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

“Mhm, of course.” But it is charming, even if he tries very desperately to not let it affect him. Its sweet and gods if he doesn’t have to stay his hand from visibly swooning at it — he’s almost thankful for the cold chill of his shorts, for the hiss that escapes the Maverick.

What he isn’t thankful for, is the subsequent pantsing, an outrage of a sound passes his lips, swatting at the blonde again. “It is payback for the last how many months?” He points out, stepping past Danta and twisting stubbornly to keep the blonde from touching him, he steps out of the pile of cold shorts on the floor now as he trudges toward the bed.

On the way there, though, he conjures his own flame and lets it wind around him to warm himself up before he extinguishes it before he has a chance to catch the bed on fire. And continuing with the dramatics, he slips himself into the bed and under the blankets like a heat rock, utilizing his glamour again to make his horns and tail vanish if only to wind one thin blanket up and around his head to glare back at the Maverick. “You are very demanding tonight.”

Astaroth

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