you were destined for the glory, the honor and the fame
i was destined for the bullet, to be the gun with no name
i was destined for the bullet, to be the gun with no name
There’s a laugh that slips from him, the warm breath of it ghosting across the blonde’s neck, felt just as strongly as the curved smirk on his lips. “Is that how you feel?” He purrs, guided up and back toward Danta’s lips. With the encouragement of the blonde’s hips, the butcher’s hand picks up its pace a fraction — not wanting to rush it, of course, but wanting to feel the way the Maverick’s muscles tighten with the attention, the way his breath hitches in the kiss he presses into.
There’s something in him that blooms akin to devotion, like he’s got nothing else to think about other than pleasing the Theocrat, and it warms him internally to be able to focus so intensely on it.
His kiss deepens, trying to devour the sounds that leave him, curled up into the other Ancient as his soft dark hair frames his face, his fingers tangled into blonde locks tightens and twists a little, trying to add that extra spark.
There’s something in him that blooms akin to devotion, like he’s got nothing else to think about other than pleasing the Theocrat, and it warms him internally to be able to focus so intensely on it.
His kiss deepens, trying to devour the sounds that leave him, curled up into the other Ancient as his soft dark hair frames his face, his fingers tangled into blonde locks tightens and twists a little, trying to add that extra spark.
Astaroth
fate's been playing the long game on us, sweetheart
