hold me tight or don't

// standing, stomping in the damage and the ruins of a slip of tongue //

His first thought of the tally was to make it in origami, hidden yet in plain sight. But it’s a fleeting thought as the sudden anxieties sweep in – something the butcher isn’t used to in the slightest. It’s a slick sensation within him that he tries desperately to smooth out, even as Danta’s lips press against his throat and lifts to capture his own lips. Humming a sound into the kiss, arms and body twisting and moving to better press the Maverick to him, it’s with a low huff of a sound that Danta speaks into his mouth and nips at his lip.

He isn’t doing a good job, though. At least not up until this precise moment. He’d tried to eat him, leaving him bruised and in pain – and if not for the weeks before where he’d not come back home on time and in the angry spiral had made comments he wish he could’ve hid, well…

Safe is probably the only thing he has done right.

“Thank you.” He lies, and rather than let it cement the sorrow injection into the mood it wants to do, Astaroth presses forward enough to chase Danta’s kiss. “We should probably try to sleep now, mm?” He asks quietly, already sinking into the bed, praying to Dygra silently for a dreamless sleep.

Hopefully the alcohol does that enough for him.

Astaroth

// with tragic consequences, i think that we've all made our gravest mistakes //