Astaroth
// a beast in the business of selling forgiveness //
“The fight would have likely already started by the time I got to Ehhntalman.” He complains swiftly, though his lips quirk into an amused smirk as his accent pours over the word – as if in real time. Distinguished Ge-- would be as long as it took before something broke out or someone simply lost interest.
Either way, the amusement remains even if the subject matter turns more morbid, because he has to agree with the thought process. He’d always assumed Danta would die young, too, though admittedly in the past there had been a tiny portion of him that wished it to be by his hands. Now, though? His hands are for nothing more than keeping the Maverick safe and happy, and worshipping him and Dygra. “Well, I certainly hope that has changed.” Because if he’s only had just a taste of this, so help him if Danta gets taken from him.
He imagines it’s probably the same in reverse, despite not feeling the need to air such a question. Especially when he lowers the hand that had laid so many scars on the blonde’s body from the warm press of his lips, when Danta leans in and steals his lips for himself. And Astaroth melts in absolute adoration, humming a soft note into the Maverick's mouth as he drowns himself in the kiss, greedy and clingy (talk of mortality evidently did that to him), his hand letting Danta’s go so that he can cup his cheek and cradle his jaw, fingertips threading through bed tousled gold.
Either way, the amusement remains even if the subject matter turns more morbid, because he has to agree with the thought process. He’d always assumed Danta would die young, too, though admittedly in the past there had been a tiny portion of him that wished it to be by his hands. Now, though? His hands are for nothing more than keeping the Maverick safe and happy, and worshipping him and Dygra. “Well, I certainly hope that has changed.” Because if he’s only had just a taste of this, so help him if Danta gets taken from him.
He imagines it’s probably the same in reverse, despite not feeling the need to air such a question. Especially when he lowers the hand that had laid so many scars on the blonde’s body from the warm press of his lips, when Danta leans in and steals his lips for himself. And Astaroth melts in absolute adoration, humming a soft note into the Maverick's mouth as he drowns himself in the kiss, greedy and clingy (talk of mortality evidently did that to him), his hand letting Danta’s go so that he can cup his cheek and cradle his jaw, fingertips threading through bed tousled gold.
// dead eyes on a treacherous grin //
