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?
The chastise is gentle and soft and the butcher smiles into the brush of their noses, and if he had his mind on him to verbalize it, he’d quietly tell Danta that it would never be enough. Instead he says it with his body language, as he drapes and caresses the blonde’s cheek and toys with the strands of gold that are soft and featherlight against his fingertips.
He’s also content to settle into the comfort of zero expectations for the both of them, even as he starts to formulate some plans.
A shiver races up his spine with the warm fingers that dance up his back, over ridges and extended lines and fingers of scars that stretch out, into divots where his skin had healed poorly. It almost burns with the heat and the small amount of pain that sparks and the butcher relishes in it, trailing his kisses up the side of his jaw. Once his lovers fingers have made it to where they plunge into his dark hair, the butcher’s warm breath exhales out a touch sharply against Danta’s neck. “It has gotten a bit out of hand, I believe.” He drawls a little, shifting to dive his face into the open space of his neck and shoulder that the Maverick’s created where his head tilts.
“I typically cut it myself, you know. Alas I have never quite let it get this long.” He muses as he withdraws, nose brushing against his lovers jaw before he hovers back over him, the shadowed moon to eclipse his sun.
He’s also content to settle into the comfort of zero expectations for the both of them, even as he starts to formulate some plans.
A shiver races up his spine with the warm fingers that dance up his back, over ridges and extended lines and fingers of scars that stretch out, into divots where his skin had healed poorly. It almost burns with the heat and the small amount of pain that sparks and the butcher relishes in it, trailing his kisses up the side of his jaw. Once his lovers fingers have made it to where they plunge into his dark hair, the butcher’s warm breath exhales out a touch sharply against Danta’s neck. “It has gotten a bit out of hand, I believe.” He drawls a little, shifting to dive his face into the open space of his neck and shoulder that the Maverick’s created where his head tilts.
“I typically cut it myself, you know. Alas I have never quite let it get this long.” He muses as he withdraws, nose brushing against his lovers jaw before he hovers back over him, the shadowed moon to eclipse his sun.
Astaroth
come a little closer
