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

“I have an office, my dear. I could sleep there.” He teases, like an office is an upgrade from a walk-in closet. At least the closet would have clothes to bundle and utilize as pillows. But he can’t help the soft laugh that leaves him with the thought of it, regardless, nestling into the hands and arms that wind around his neck, shifting his head a little to give Danta more room against his neck.

His hands continue their gentle strokes even as he hums a note of his own approval with the heat that crests from the fire at Danta’s fingertips. “I was very much hoping you would say that.” Here he doesn’t hide the touch of eagerness in his tone, twisting a little to pull the Maverick with him toward the edge of the bed, snagging a blanket to come with them (given they’re both still nude). Once his feet touch the floor, he slips his arms under Danta to pick him up and hold him against his chest.

Drifting toward where Danta left the cigarettes, he lets the blonde snag them before taking him out to the balcony, to the white metal seat beside the small table to accompany the balcony, aiming to settle into it without having to part from the blonde for too long. “I left my pipe back in the Grounds.” He murmurs with a sheepish, sharp smirk.

Astaroth

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