am i the wolf or the savior?
is my smile too sharp or just my teeth?
is my smile too sharp or just my teeth?
Asta is not so lucky to get those additional dozing sessions in. The five more minutes actually forces him to start to think, like they’ve missed something or have an appointment for some godforsaken thing. But he does not move, not when sense comes to him and the delirium of the night before is easily forgotten.
No, the butcher simply relishes in the way Danta’s arms feel against him, wound tightly as if to prevent him from leaving. As if the butcher would dare to. He counts the minutes only by the soft and warm breaths that leave his lover, in the low din of the morning that soon changes to afternoon. It’s only when the light begins to creep into their curtained off den that he moves slightly, ensuring his head is angled enough to make sure his horns don’t accidentally harm the Maverick.
His calloused fingertips have taken to gentle smooth strokes, like a painters paint brush down along Danta’s arms, stopping only when the blonde wakes and stretches, the morning greeted by the butcher’s soft smile and slow, soft blinks against the light that’s crept in to turn the otherwise mahogany into vibrant golden amber as he peers over at the Maverick. “Good morning, love.” Comes the deep and gentle purr, the butcher twisting a little bit more to nose his way to press a soft kiss to his jaw.
No, the butcher simply relishes in the way Danta’s arms feel against him, wound tightly as if to prevent him from leaving. As if the butcher would dare to. He counts the minutes only by the soft and warm breaths that leave his lover, in the low din of the morning that soon changes to afternoon. It’s only when the light begins to creep into their curtained off den that he moves slightly, ensuring his head is angled enough to make sure his horns don’t accidentally harm the Maverick.
His calloused fingertips have taken to gentle smooth strokes, like a painters paint brush down along Danta’s arms, stopping only when the blonde wakes and stretches, the morning greeted by the butcher’s soft smile and slow, soft blinks against the light that’s crept in to turn the otherwise mahogany into vibrant golden amber as he peers over at the Maverick. “Good morning, love.” Comes the deep and gentle purr, the butcher twisting a little bit more to nose his way to press a soft kiss to his jaw.
Astaroth
come a little closer
