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
Against his throat, where Danta’s hand settles, there’s an easy heartbeat that thrums against his skin, calm and collected even as he draws back to offer the little whisper. His hands are still just as warm as they smooth against his skin, over scars he’d given and those he hadn’t, tilting his head lightly into the kisses that the Maverick places on the corner of his mouth. And yes, he does feel the swell of heat, something he clings to as he hears the answer, dark gaze taking in the easy smile that blooms.
His lips part to speak, but Danta continues, and he promptly closes his mouth until the blonde is shifting and tugging him back with surprisingly gentle hands, twisting to press into the kiss ever so lightly when he receives the nibble to his lower lip. He ends up boxing the Maverick in, body pinning him just as Danta’s subconscious wanted, pulling away from the soft and gentle kisses to trail his own along Danta’s jaw, the scruff of his beard tickling at his neck. “I know I don’t have to.” He answers after a moment, his hot breath accented in a mixture of himself along with the undertones of the heavier Whitebrim accent.
“I want to, though.” He adds on, in case it isn’t obvious, lips grazing along his cheek to his ear, soft and gentle. “I want to indulge in you and worship you and love you.” Boxing him in a little bit tighter, his fingertips stroke through the other Ancient’s blonde hair, pulling it back and away from his face while his legs press in between Danta’s own. “Will you allow me the honor?” There’s the twitch of his signature smile the Theocrat could feel from where his lips stay pressed against his ear.
His lips part to speak, but Danta continues, and he promptly closes his mouth until the blonde is shifting and tugging him back with surprisingly gentle hands, twisting to press into the kiss ever so lightly when he receives the nibble to his lower lip. He ends up boxing the Maverick in, body pinning him just as Danta’s subconscious wanted, pulling away from the soft and gentle kisses to trail his own along Danta’s jaw, the scruff of his beard tickling at his neck. “I know I don’t have to.” He answers after a moment, his hot breath accented in a mixture of himself along with the undertones of the heavier Whitebrim accent.
“I want to, though.” He adds on, in case it isn’t obvious, lips grazing along his cheek to his ear, soft and gentle. “I want to indulge in you and worship you and love you.” Boxing him in a little bit tighter, his fingertips stroke through the other Ancient’s blonde hair, pulling it back and away from his face while his legs press in between Danta’s own. “Will you allow me the honor?” There’s the twitch of his signature smile the Theocrat could feel from where his lips stay pressed against his ear.
Astaroth
say your prayers now
