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
Work is as far away from his mind as ever, with the sand beneath them, the cries of hels in the distance, the dull roar of the ocean and the sea salt tang in the air that melds with the citrus that wafts closer from the Maverick’s own scent with where his hands are pressed against his neck while he forces the horns and tail to vanish, utilizing his glamour to keep them away and free from impediment.
Not thinking much of anything past what kind of terribly wonderful things Danta’s hands are doing to him, he expects to be requested to tuck his head in further where his horns now wouldn’t knock against the board he’d placed to lean against. When it doesn’t come and his hands instead plunge into the ruffled dark hair, over spaces where his horns typically sat, the butcher’s body shivers with delight hard enough that it jostles the other man ever so slightly, leaning into the touch as goosebumps line and pepper along his exposed neck and shoulders before vanishing deep beneath the floral print scarlet shirt.
In his daze of delight and trying to bite back the huff of breath that wants to escape in another sound, the butcher knows subconsciously that Danta is making a joke of it, but physically he can’t help but to lay praise down instead. “Ah, but you are a brilliant Theocrat, darling.” He purrs, trying to chase the sensation of the hands in his hair. “However... You could do both, you know, if ever you decide to change your mind. Magic and masseuse.” Planting the idea, there’s the crinkle of crows feet at the corners of his eyes and the smile that stretches so wide his cheeks bunch up and can be seen where he’s got his face initially pressed into the towel and his arms.
Not thinking much of anything past what kind of terribly wonderful things Danta’s hands are doing to him, he expects to be requested to tuck his head in further where his horns now wouldn’t knock against the board he’d placed to lean against. When it doesn’t come and his hands instead plunge into the ruffled dark hair, over spaces where his horns typically sat, the butcher’s body shivers with delight hard enough that it jostles the other man ever so slightly, leaning into the touch as goosebumps line and pepper along his exposed neck and shoulders before vanishing deep beneath the floral print scarlet shirt.
In his daze of delight and trying to bite back the huff of breath that wants to escape in another sound, the butcher knows subconsciously that Danta is making a joke of it, but physically he can’t help but to lay praise down instead. “Ah, but you are a brilliant Theocrat, darling.” He purrs, trying to chase the sensation of the hands in his hair. “However... You could do both, you know, if ever you decide to change your mind. Magic and masseuse.” Planting the idea, there’s the crinkle of crows feet at the corners of his eyes and the smile that stretches so wide his cheeks bunch up and can be seen where he’s got his face initially pressed into the towel and his arms.
Astaroth
you know what's on the line
