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?
“Mm, I do know that.” He doesn’t trust just anyone to wield weapons within such close proximity to him. When it comes to the striking blonde, the butcher finds that he only need worry for miniscule things. (Or, you know, when Danta’s decided to offer a deep tissue massage. In which case, the butcher’s afraid for very accurate reasons). In lieu of that, though, he lets his fingers curl into his hair even more, threading a strand of gold to shimmer against the scarred bronze of his skin – light and beautiful and everything he can imagine. “My, my.. How far we have come.” It comes out more akin to a whisper than anything else, unintentional likely due to how he still wakes, or his distractions with how this version of the Maverick is perhaps one of his favorites.
The calm and beautiful version of a man so happy and content to enjoy as simple comforts such as small talk from sleeping in and refusing to move anywhere.
When the Maverick relaxes, Astaroth shifts a little bit closer, if only to keep that same comfortable distance between them (aka, despite being touched a lot now that he has Danta, there’s a selfish streak that still feels touch starved, like he’s making up for lost time). He may be the center of attention at the present moment, but like woodsmoke against the sun, he pales in comparison to the man he nestles in against. “I would be quite content with a day spent together, away from everyone else and the cold.” He murmurs thoughtfully, before he’s shifting enough to drape back over the Maverick’s torso, invading his space to press soft kisses along the edge of his jaw, aiming up to his ear. “And, perhaps I may be inclined for a haircut after some tea, what do you think, darling?” He withdraws with a playful glint to his dark gaze now that he’s moved out of the line of light that’s invaded their dark den.
The calm and beautiful version of a man so happy and content to enjoy as simple comforts such as small talk from sleeping in and refusing to move anywhere.
When the Maverick relaxes, Astaroth shifts a little bit closer, if only to keep that same comfortable distance between them (aka, despite being touched a lot now that he has Danta, there’s a selfish streak that still feels touch starved, like he’s making up for lost time). He may be the center of attention at the present moment, but like woodsmoke against the sun, he pales in comparison to the man he nestles in against. “I would be quite content with a day spent together, away from everyone else and the cold.” He murmurs thoughtfully, before he’s shifting enough to drape back over the Maverick’s torso, invading his space to press soft kisses along the edge of his jaw, aiming up to his ear. “And, perhaps I may be inclined for a haircut after some tea, what do you think, darling?” He withdraws with a playful glint to his dark gaze now that he’s moved out of the line of light that’s invaded their dark den.
Astaroth
come a little closer
