love, do you want love?
do you want lust? say you don't know
do you want lust? say you don't know
“It is our space now, is it not?” Comes the tease as he twists them, the lilt of Danta’s laugh like music to his ears as he boxes the blonde in to steal a much needed kiss. After all, he’d been mostly all work no play for the beginning half of the day. This part? It’s utter devotion to the Theocrat, and he hopes the idea of such is understood in the sweet kiss he claims.
Relishing and relaxing in the warmth of the Maverick’s hand curled around his shoulder and his long fingertips threading through the hair at the nape of his neck, Astaroth reluctantly pulls away with a slight pang, pulling back to let his dark honeyed gaze take in the warm flush of Danta’s paler skin, the way his blonde hair sticks to his neck, the way his eyes are vibrant and playful with the sentence that leaves him.
It reflects in his own gaze as a soft laugh leaves him and he shifts slightly to box Danta in a touch more, water clinging to his fingertips as he slips his hand back to comb through wet blonde hair from where he’d cupped the Maverick’s jaw. “Which one of us would be more distraught, do you think?” He asks playfully, head tilting back into the touch but adding to the mischief in his gaze, as if he’s trying to listen for the quiet panicking screams.
Personally? He thinks it would be the older version of himself.
Relishing and relaxing in the warmth of the Maverick’s hand curled around his shoulder and his long fingertips threading through the hair at the nape of his neck, Astaroth reluctantly pulls away with a slight pang, pulling back to let his dark honeyed gaze take in the warm flush of Danta’s paler skin, the way his blonde hair sticks to his neck, the way his eyes are vibrant and playful with the sentence that leaves him.
It reflects in his own gaze as a soft laugh leaves him and he shifts slightly to box Danta in a touch more, water clinging to his fingertips as he slips his hand back to comb through wet blonde hair from where he’d cupped the Maverick’s jaw. “Which one of us would be more distraught, do you think?” He asks playfully, head tilting back into the touch but adding to the mischief in his gaze, as if he’s trying to listen for the quiet panicking screams.
Personally? He thinks it would be the older version of himself.
Astaroth
maybe you just like the control
