hold you to the light, let you shine

// as long as there's bread and as long as there's an appetite //

Indulge, they do. The two Ancients feasting on the deer as the hot blood continues to cool and soak into the earth, there’s satisfaction that lingers within the butcher’s bones, one that curls comfortably around the chaotic dark heart laying within his chest, beating with content at the way this date has gone so far.

Withdrawing with a hum of content, it’s then that Astaroth’s shirt is grabbed by the blonde — smattered and drenched in red — and gods what a beautiful sight it is. He nearly says as much as he’s used as an anchor point for Danta to slide over the cooling body of the stag beneath them, pushing the butcher back and down (something he ordinarily wouldn’t do, but he’s content and satisfied and happy to oblige).

He finds himself on his back, blood slick hands press against Danta’s hips and sides, keeping him held close as he presses back into the kiss, only somewhat careful this time to not nick the other man’s lips with the force of it. There’s no need to worry on the butcher’s side, his bloodlust sated and content, enough that the additional blood and the pool he’s pressed back into don’t send him spiraling over the edge.

Astaroth

// as long as everyone you need is stepping in line, you are camouflaged //