i'm the escape to something that's worse
i am the shadow driving the hearse
i am the shadow driving the hearse
The pressure at his wrists spark more of that panicked breathing. Sharp and short inhales and exhales, shaking as he’s restrained from getting the contraption off, while also being held by his wrists. He flinches again, but gives up on the muzzle if only to try and free his hands. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—please— I didn’t know!”
He’s begging. Perhaps one of the things most unlike Astaroth these days.
It’s the snap of his lover’s voice that brings him out of it in a jolt. He’s light headed, he doesn’t really know where he is, what he does know is that he can’t scent any blood. So either he hasn’t done anything or nothing has been done to him. But still the feelings linger and so do the remnants of the nightmare — like the way he has to sniffle because his nose is plugged from eyes that shine with tears that stubbornly fall before he can swipe them away, vanishing into his beard.
He does still remain curled, hands pressing against the bridge of his nose and rubbing at the side of his face above the muzzle, grateful it was still secure, and he tries desperately to relax his heartbeat — in that post nightmare limbo, where only he exists at this second; Danta barely even a blip on his radar.
He’s begging. Perhaps one of the things most unlike Astaroth these days.
It’s the snap of his lover’s voice that brings him out of it in a jolt. He’s light headed, he doesn’t really know where he is, what he does know is that he can’t scent any blood. So either he hasn’t done anything or nothing has been done to him. But still the feelings linger and so do the remnants of the nightmare — like the way he has to sniffle because his nose is plugged from eyes that shine with tears that stubbornly fall before he can swipe them away, vanishing into his beard.
He does still remain curled, hands pressing against the bridge of his nose and rubbing at the side of his face above the muzzle, grateful it was still secure, and he tries desperately to relax his heartbeat — in that post nightmare limbo, where only he exists at this second; Danta barely even a blip on his radar.
Astaroth
what was it like to feel in love?
