love, do you want love?
do you want lust? say you don't know
do you want lust? say you don't know
A part of him does wish for the ability to brush back his hair as easily as Danta’s do, but the larger part of him is equally attached to the horns that sprout from his skull. So he fiddles enough with the dreamcatcher strings his hair has made within the tines, droplets falling from their tips as he begins to ferry Danta back toward the edge to simply love and dote on him.
He doesn’t blame him for the initial wariness, though. He doesn’t have a good track record of not starting short within pools of any variety. This one, though, is more relaxed, more comfortable, and Astaroth’s tension bleeds from him with excruciating ease with each second that passes of Danta melting against him and the blonde’s lips that brush against the stubble growing along his jaw.
Humming a soft note that rumbles from his throat, he pulls away briefly to focus on the bright blues of the Maverick’s, admiring the sharp jut of his jawline against the way the water laps against his skin and the prismatic hues that blossom from the lights reflection of his own curled horns. “It is lovely.” He agrees, cutting himself off before he can say something like just like you. “I used to sneak out and come soak on occasion.” He’d make an appearance at any parties and then vanish later on — while everyone assumed he’d been in his room, he was spending time here, soothing old aches and pains.
He doesn’t blame him for the initial wariness, though. He doesn’t have a good track record of not starting short within pools of any variety. This one, though, is more relaxed, more comfortable, and Astaroth’s tension bleeds from him with excruciating ease with each second that passes of Danta melting against him and the blonde’s lips that brush against the stubble growing along his jaw.
Humming a soft note that rumbles from his throat, he pulls away briefly to focus on the bright blues of the Maverick’s, admiring the sharp jut of his jawline against the way the water laps against his skin and the prismatic hues that blossom from the lights reflection of his own curled horns. “It is lovely.” He agrees, cutting himself off before he can say something like just like you. “I used to sneak out and come soak on occasion.” He’d make an appearance at any parties and then vanish later on — while everyone assumed he’d been in his room, he was spending time here, soothing old aches and pains.
Astaroth
maybe you just like the control
