run, baby, run, run for your life
i'ma tear out your heart, it'll always be mine
i'ma tear out your heart, it'll always be mine
Well, at least he understood it was a den. He supposes that allocates Frey’s demigod a small amount of a boon. Yet, as the crack of light flares across the other man’s face, Astaroth’s grin remains a touch sharper, judging in a way that seems to scream you’re slipping, boy. Ah, but Danta is speaking up and he has a moment to hide that too sharp grin that wants to tear through that tattooed skin for the sheer audacity of just how much he was imposing, in order to take a long slow sip of the liquor, tense beneath the warm arm that slips around him as if he isn’t expecting the touch.
“Oh? Do tell.” He imagines he’d hate it. He also imagines that — why, if the Flood had owned all kinds of places and a whole region, why he was here practically groveling for a room. Yes, Danta had explained, but it still didn’t quite register for the butcher. Not in the way that it mattered. Following up the sip with another, because he does know somewhere within that he’s being unfair and the stranger is trying, but fuck, it was confusing.
He also despises how much the demigod smells like Danta. And as the comment of small talk is made, Astaroth’s gaze finally twists away from Sunjata to look over toward Danta, exhaling a small and quiet sigh before his tail winds around his lover's leg, his arm slipping around the blonde’s shoulders. Begrudgingly inclining his head toward Sunjata. “Apologies, I am not the type to share easily.” He despises the idea still, but he could actually try to be somewhat nice.
It wouldn’t kill him, right?
“Oh? Do tell.” He imagines he’d hate it. He also imagines that — why, if the Flood had owned all kinds of places and a whole region, why he was here practically groveling for a room. Yes, Danta had explained, but it still didn’t quite register for the butcher. Not in the way that it mattered. Following up the sip with another, because he does know somewhere within that he’s being unfair and the stranger is trying, but fuck, it was confusing.
He also despises how much the demigod smells like Danta. And as the comment of small talk is made, Astaroth’s gaze finally twists away from Sunjata to look over toward Danta, exhaling a small and quiet sigh before his tail winds around his lover's leg, his arm slipping around the blonde’s shoulders. Begrudgingly inclining his head toward Sunjata. “Apologies, I am not the type to share easily.” He despises the idea still, but he could actually try to be somewhat nice.
It wouldn’t kill him, right?
Astaroth
run, baby, run, run for your life
