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

He finds himself completely content despite the playful bickering as he sinks in against the other Ancient, only letting his expression soften when he hears Danta’s apology (at least that’s what he’s taking it as). He flashes a small smile, nodding his head ever so slightly as to not bother the trail of hands that move through his too soft, fluffy hair, content to let the blondes long fingers press against the space on his scalp where his horns typically prevented.

“I accept your apology. And yes, I did bite my tongue.” He whines, chin dropping to rest against the Maverick’s sternum, peering up at him with dark eyes made somehow softer with the relaxation of their vacation, even if Danta’s had been decidedly less relaxing and more injury prone.

He tilts his head to glance over at the rum before conceding to the blonde, peeling and unwrapping himself from Danta to stand and retrieve it, giving a full view of his body without horns or tail as he retrieves it, returning to kneel above the Maverick and draping the blankets over his shoulder as he takes a long sip of it (hissing shortly after for the burn it gives the bite in his tongue). Handing it to him, he shifts to hover over the other Ancient, a small crooked smile forming on his face. “You are welcome.”

Astaroth

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