Astaroth
// but if you think I'm misery,
“Mine know what they are doing.” Astaroth boldly says, this time knowing what Flora means and flashing a sharp, shark toothed smirk for the answer of it. Not unlike a bull attracted to red, the butcher does keep his head on his shoulders where his touch is of the gentler possessive type, and nothing more than that.
Pulling his gaze away from her shoulder, even as he leans in a bit more to feel her fingers run through the back of his hair, if he could stay there purring like a cat, he would. Instead, she gets the brief reflection of his tail waving contently like a lazy feline. And in an attempt to remain that aloof and charming figure, a soft hum leaves him in consideration. “It is quite a shame.” He agrees on the edge of a whispered whine. “Perhaps we could find a way to leave one for the physical reminder?” He muses thoughtfully, glancing toward her again in the mirror as her cheek brushes against his bearded jaw and Astaroth presses in against her in turn.
Perhaps it says a lot about the butcher, for having scars he would just as soon forget, to wanting to have others wear the reminders of where he’d been.
Perhaps that’s just trauma.
Either way, she replies and he snorts, “that is the goal, darling.” Withdrawing from her enough to let her untangle herself and spin slowly, his hand lifts to gently caress her cheek and jaw, before slipping down her neck and shoulder, down her arm to her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze before he guides her out toward the alcove of mirrors again, ever the gentleman, helping her up onto the pedestal again. “I think perhaps it isn’t for the occasion you seek, but you definitely should still purchase it.” Selfishly, of course. It’s his favorite color and a mixture of his favorite fabrics, and he cant deny the way it makes her look absolutely ravishing.
Pulling his gaze away from her shoulder, even as he leans in a bit more to feel her fingers run through the back of his hair, if he could stay there purring like a cat, he would. Instead, she gets the brief reflection of his tail waving contently like a lazy feline. And in an attempt to remain that aloof and charming figure, a soft hum leaves him in consideration. “It is quite a shame.” He agrees on the edge of a whispered whine. “Perhaps we could find a way to leave one for the physical reminder?” He muses thoughtfully, glancing toward her again in the mirror as her cheek brushes against his bearded jaw and Astaroth presses in against her in turn.
Perhaps it says a lot about the butcher, for having scars he would just as soon forget, to wanting to have others wear the reminders of where he’d been.
Perhaps that’s just trauma.
Either way, she replies and he snorts, “that is the goal, darling.” Withdrawing from her enough to let her untangle herself and spin slowly, his hand lifts to gently caress her cheek and jaw, before slipping down her neck and shoulder, down her arm to her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze before he guides her out toward the alcove of mirrors again, ever the gentleman, helping her up onto the pedestal again. “I think perhaps it isn’t for the occasion you seek, but you definitely should still purchase it.” Selfishly, of course. It’s his favorite color and a mixture of his favorite fabrics, and he cant deny the way it makes her look absolutely ravishing.
then baby, all the company,
it never leaves me alone, no //
it never leaves me alone, no //
