mississippi boys, inner city boys

// I thought of angels choking on their halos //

Danta doesn't realise he's been holding his breath until his lungs start to burn, the Maverick trying to parse the difference between where he'd assumed he just was and where he actually is. Letting out a shivering sigh and panting for air, he finally registers Asta curled around him, the warm arm against his chest, the sleep roughened voice, and he mutters another exhausted curse. "Gods, sorry," he says in a hoarse voice, melting back into the other man's embrace just a little. "I didn't mean to wake you up."

Or himself up for that matter, Danta closing his eyes and leaning into the fingers working through his fair hair as if trying to focus on that instead of the images still flickering through his mind. "And here I was expecting you to be the one causing problems on vacation," he mumbles, scoffing out a mirthless laugh that does little for his still rabbiting pulse. "I hope it wasn't too bad."

Dantalion

// get them drunk on rose water //