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

“Ah, so I would lose ten years simply by making the switch?” He muses with amusement in his tone, his accent taking on a touch of a conspiracy, watching the shrug of the blonde’s shoulders and the glance. But he settles to let his offer be considered, hand still smoothing out warmth against Danta’s lower back even as his gaze studies the other Ancient’s profile, following the way the moon and Torchline’s lights reflect against the curve of his nose, the way his cheekbone casts harsh shadows.

He drags from the cigarette again before flicking the ash off instead of leaning in and planting a kiss to the shadow, not wanting to distract. “Well, if you are seeking low effort, I do still need a shower.” To wash off the fountain and their other activities of the day and night.

Nodding at the mention of the ramphire, though, and the whole reason for going to the fountain in the first place that had slipped his mind, he gladly lets him lean in, head pressed against his neck where the kiss presses in. “It feels so.. free? Open?” He frowns a little before pressing his cheek to Danta’s crown as he searches his mind for the word, coming up empty he shrugs a fraction, trying not to jostle the blonde too much.

Astaroth

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