so what, my friend, whatever will it be?
i can give you what you crave, just not for free
i can give you what you crave, just not for free
He had also misread the situation, a fool and oblivious as can be, because to Danta’s imagining of the date, Asta nods his head. “I thought we would go shopping.” He says with a hint of a whine. “I did not imagine it would be a rushed courting.” A perhaps too close admission of just how much Astaroth understood about all of it.
Danta’s fingertips trace along the spreading bruises of the bites and scratches on his bicep, they don’t really hurt precisely in this moment, probably because of the fact he’s in his most comfortable spot – somewhere in the back of his mind he thinks of how Danta had held him in the windowsill in Levinsward, how despite how fucked up he was, the memory remained strong. It had been safe.
“No. It may have taken the whole rest of the day for me to get back to that point anyway.” Despite Flora trying. Either way, the butcher peers down at Danta, arms shifting to brush his fingertips along the sharp jut of his cheekbones, a ghosting touch. “You are right.” He admits softly, exhaling a sigh. “I just wish she hadn’t cried.” That was the crux of it, really. He hadn’t cared when tears had spilt when he’d marked her thighs, but the second that shift from tears of pain turned into emotional tears, that is what tears at him.
Sighing, he carefully runs his tongue along his too sharp teeth. “But, it does not matter now. What’s done is done.”
Danta’s fingertips trace along the spreading bruises of the bites and scratches on his bicep, they don’t really hurt precisely in this moment, probably because of the fact he’s in his most comfortable spot – somewhere in the back of his mind he thinks of how Danta had held him in the windowsill in Levinsward, how despite how fucked up he was, the memory remained strong. It had been safe.
“No. It may have taken the whole rest of the day for me to get back to that point anyway.” Despite Flora trying. Either way, the butcher peers down at Danta, arms shifting to brush his fingertips along the sharp jut of his cheekbones, a ghosting touch. “You are right.” He admits softly, exhaling a sigh. “I just wish she hadn’t cried.” That was the crux of it, really. He hadn’t cared when tears had spilt when he’d marked her thighs, but the second that shift from tears of pain turned into emotional tears, that is what tears at him.
Sighing, he carefully runs his tongue along his too sharp teeth. “But, it does not matter now. What’s done is done.”
Astaroth
you know what's on the line
