lord help anyone who stands in my way; for I am not merciful, and i am not kind
and i am not afraid to make you wish that i was
and i am not afraid to make you wish that i was
It feels the same — because what’s around the corner that could be better than all of this? They don’t know and won’t know until it happens. And that is precisely what the butcher finds himself worried about. But the Maverick’s touch is a siren song against his scalp, and he’s far too drunk to be able to focus and indulge in his multitasking capabilities when those hands are in his hair.
“If you are certain.” Astaroth rumbles, as if still unsure, tilting his head back and listening as Danta tries to regain his attention again. And it doesn’t, initially, until those three little words spill from his lips. And that’s what brings his dark gaze back to focus on the blonde, hands snaking around Danta’s middle, clasping his hands there to rest against his hips.
It is equally as relieving as it is sweet, and the butcher leans forward enough in his seat to press his forehead against the Theocrat’s. “I love you too.” He whispers back, as if testing the words on his tongue again, because he can’t fully remember the last time he’d said them. “Just.. I want a heads up next time. I will make myself scarce.” He decides on a slow contemplative thought before he continues. “And I will reclaim any marks left on you.” It comes off as a vow — like he couldn’t fathom the idea of someone else’s marks remaining on the Maverick’s beautiful skin.
“If you are certain.” Astaroth rumbles, as if still unsure, tilting his head back and listening as Danta tries to regain his attention again. And it doesn’t, initially, until those three little words spill from his lips. And that’s what brings his dark gaze back to focus on the blonde, hands snaking around Danta’s middle, clasping his hands there to rest against his hips.
It is equally as relieving as it is sweet, and the butcher leans forward enough in his seat to press his forehead against the Theocrat’s. “I love you too.” He whispers back, as if testing the words on his tongue again, because he can’t fully remember the last time he’d said them. “Just.. I want a heads up next time. I will make myself scarce.” He decides on a slow contemplative thought before he continues. “And I will reclaim any marks left on you.” It comes off as a vow — like he couldn’t fathom the idea of someone else’s marks remaining on the Maverick’s beautiful skin.
Astaroth
say your prayers now
