i'm the escape to something that's worse
i am the shadow driving the hearse
i am the shadow driving the hearse
A hum escapes the butcher, akin to a yeah, yeah. But he doesn’t announce it verbally, if only because he doesn’t want to be too snarky considering the fact he did just accidentally dislocate his lover’s arm. And it would likely bruise and be painful for some time to come – but for now, at least, he holds him close against his chest, threading firetipped fingers through golden strands, forgoing any of the previous bitterness at the bullseye or the teacup that had shattered, even if scratches lace the very hands that caress his lover.
The kiss to his neck is a welcome touch, and it’s followed by a huff of a quiet laugh that escapes him. “Yes, I imagine they would.” He murmurs, conceding the point because Danta was in pain, and perhaps that’s all that was really needed when it came to Astaroth and his high horse.
“Oh, it was cursed, was it not?” The butcher drawls, shifting slightly to continue to thread his fingers into Danta’s hair, but this time adding a little bit of pressure, like soft little scratches along his scalp, in between the diamond curvature of his horns. “Perhaps a ghost took unkindly to your bullseye? We can investigate when the morning comes?” His voice drops a touch more playfully, lips quirking as he twists to nose his way to press a kiss to Danta’s temple.
Then, keeping himself just as close despite how he twists, he aims to snatch Danta up into his arms to carry him back toward the bed to reverently lay him down amongst the strewn blankets and discarded metal muzzle.
The kiss to his neck is a welcome touch, and it’s followed by a huff of a quiet laugh that escapes him. “Yes, I imagine they would.” He murmurs, conceding the point because Danta was in pain, and perhaps that’s all that was really needed when it came to Astaroth and his high horse.
“Oh, it was cursed, was it not?” The butcher drawls, shifting slightly to continue to thread his fingers into Danta’s hair, but this time adding a little bit of pressure, like soft little scratches along his scalp, in between the diamond curvature of his horns. “Perhaps a ghost took unkindly to your bullseye? We can investigate when the morning comes?” His voice drops a touch more playfully, lips quirking as he twists to nose his way to press a kiss to Danta’s temple.
Then, keeping himself just as close despite how he twists, he aims to snatch Danta up into his arms to carry him back toward the bed to reverently lay him down amongst the strewn blankets and discarded metal muzzle.
Astaroth
what was it like to feel in love?
