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 is indeed okay, because for whatever experiences Danta never got to receive when it came to dancing or simply being held in a sway to soft and slow music, Astaroth intends to change that. It’s already established he can sing, and humming is really not that different. He hums the tune, finding a pace that’s easy for Danta to match with, even if he’s unsure.
And isn’t that just a reflection of the past season — the want to be something more, the uncertainty of how it might be once in action. For Astaroth to take the lead (knowingly or not) when it came to his dates with Flora to show Danta’s hand.
And he sees that thoughtful expression, content to hold him close all the same and sway him to the music, the firelight low as it and the moonlight reflects on their faces, the way it glints a multitude of hues from Danta’s horns. He tilts his head slightly to rest against the horns as he presses in to rest against his head against his shoulder. “You deserve it, darling.” And he does. He deserves the world. And Astaroth intends to show it to him, however much he might rebel from it from time to time.
He returns to the humming, the vibration felt from his shoulder as well as heard by his ear as he continues, swaying them into a slow circle, until the song is complete and he drifts into a stillness — having spun them enough that the moonlight silhouettes Danta’s face and body. His hand loosens from the blonde’s to rise to his cheek, lifting his head to claim a very much wanted kiss, soft and slow and sweet, like he’s savoring this memory.
And isn’t that just a reflection of the past season — the want to be something more, the uncertainty of how it might be once in action. For Astaroth to take the lead (knowingly or not) when it came to his dates with Flora to show Danta’s hand.
And he sees that thoughtful expression, content to hold him close all the same and sway him to the music, the firelight low as it and the moonlight reflects on their faces, the way it glints a multitude of hues from Danta’s horns. He tilts his head slightly to rest against the horns as he presses in to rest against his head against his shoulder. “You deserve it, darling.” And he does. He deserves the world. And Astaroth intends to show it to him, however much he might rebel from it from time to time.
He returns to the humming, the vibration felt from his shoulder as well as heard by his ear as he continues, swaying them into a slow circle, until the song is complete and he drifts into a stillness — having spun them enough that the moonlight silhouettes Danta’s face and body. His hand loosens from the blonde’s to rise to his cheek, lifting his head to claim a very much wanted kiss, soft and slow and sweet, like he’s savoring this memory.
Astaroth
say your prayers now
