mississippi boys, inner city boys

you were destined for the glory, the honor and the fame
i was destined for the bullet, to be the gun with no name

And you were surprised there were rules! Is what Astaroth would say if he wasn’t already lying in wait like a sharp ready to dive in and chomp with his sharp teeth. He doesn’t even intend to bite as hard as he does – but his teeth make up for anything that could potentially come off as gentle, turning it from something fun and playful into quite literally a potential murder scene. It’s as much of the second one to feel the blood paint his skin and teeth, enough that he doesn’t notice (much like the bystanders), the dark blood that spurts from the Maverick’s neck.

He's already releasing him by the time the less playful growl slips past Danta’s lips which is a good thing given that when his tail is grabbed he’s jostled – and had his teeth still been in the other man’s neck he would have definitely torn something out. “You’re in a healing fountain, darling, you’ll be fine.” He protests, slipping as he tries to stand with the grip the blonde has on his tail and he drops to both knees within the fountain, trying to tug Danta down with him so that the wound might heal. Already the soft little marks given from their romp on the beach had healed – surely this would too given a bit of time in the fountain.

Astaroth

fate's been playing the long game on us, sweetheart