so give me your prayers up on your feet
and i'll give you a show, it helps fill the seats
and i'll give you a show, it helps fill the seats
He knows Danta wasn’t teasing. Not with that soft, genuine smile, the way his touch grows feather light and tender, as if the butcher is something to be revered rather than a weapon to be utilized. Its with the fact, that even if it’s only in the dark recesses of their rooms and away from eager ears, that Danta can say such beautiful things to him. It melts him, and it’s simultaneously a sensation he cannot place, not in the state he’s in. He can’t even restrain his mask from preventing the rosy flush to crest on his cheeks. And finally, it's with the acceptance of the fact Astaroth had teased him that isn’t met with typical snark but gentle affections that has his chest feeling like it might combust.
So the genuine smile crosses over Asta’s face, and he grows bold in his attempts to down the coffee (finding that it settles okay, all things considered) but it frees him up to return the affection and attentions, bolstered by the gentle drag of the Maverick’s nose against his hot cheek. Winding his arm around him and keeping him close, the butcher snorts to Danta’a question, head lolling a fraction to flash his charming too sharp grin over toward the handsome blonde. “You will just have to find out, darling.” He wasn’t in the business of giving up his secrets after all.
Squeezing him for emphasis, the butcher leans in toward the Theocrat, snatching another soft kiss as if he thinks he might die going too long without it. Which, given his hungover and dramatic self, he very well might.
So the genuine smile crosses over Asta’s face, and he grows bold in his attempts to down the coffee (finding that it settles okay, all things considered) but it frees him up to return the affection and attentions, bolstered by the gentle drag of the Maverick’s nose against his hot cheek. Winding his arm around him and keeping him close, the butcher snorts to Danta’a question, head lolling a fraction to flash his charming too sharp grin over toward the handsome blonde. “You will just have to find out, darling.” He wasn’t in the business of giving up his secrets after all.
Squeezing him for emphasis, the butcher leans in toward the Theocrat, snatching another soft kiss as if he thinks he might die going too long without it. Which, given his hungover and dramatic self, he very well might.
Astaroth
so give me your sins, give me your lies
but whisper your love, and i'll whisper mine
but whisper your love, and i'll whisper mine
