Astaroth
// a beast in the business of selling forgiveness //
“I most certainly do.” He announces with a small smirk, amusement flickering momentarily before it shifts into sentimentality. Affection is surprisingly easy for the butcher to offer, these days, and possessive as he is Danta could say he wasn’t going anywhere and yet the butcher’s arms would still be just as tight, his tail would still be grounding him.
He nods slightly, enough that he can remain just as pressed into him. At least until he feels the Maverick shift enough to glance up at him. The honesty sparks a yawning pit of content within him, something he still doesn’t know how to place. It feels strange, it feels like for everything Danta has to offer him, he’s earned none of it.
But he swallows his insecurities down to drag a warm hand up his spine to caress the nape of his neck. “Once upon a time I would have bit anyone who dared to touch me.” Danta would remember the snapping of his teeth at the blonde’s fingers that day at the Spire. He would remember all the times before that, too.
His insecurities only stay bitten down for so long, though, as he takes a soft and deep inhale, trying to push it down again that he finds he can only block it out by nosing his way in to steal another kiss — too slow and too tender and too gentle.
He nods slightly, enough that he can remain just as pressed into him. At least until he feels the Maverick shift enough to glance up at him. The honesty sparks a yawning pit of content within him, something he still doesn’t know how to place. It feels strange, it feels like for everything Danta has to offer him, he’s earned none of it.
But he swallows his insecurities down to drag a warm hand up his spine to caress the nape of his neck. “Once upon a time I would have bit anyone who dared to touch me.” Danta would remember the snapping of his teeth at the blonde’s fingers that day at the Spire. He would remember all the times before that, too.
His insecurities only stay bitten down for so long, though, as he takes a soft and deep inhale, trying to push it down again that he finds he can only block it out by nosing his way in to steal another kiss — too slow and too tender and too gentle.
// dead eyes on a treacherous grin //
