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
“Very rarely do we have a stranger in our bed.” Comes the dark hum, the honesty over whether or not it was just a fleeting jealousy, or the full train of it crashing into him, it’s clear this reaction is due to the latter. And while the morning is great so far, he isn’t sure whether or not he wants to make it a habit.
His lips curl with a twitch of a smirk as he keeps that distance, enough that Danta’s lips do brush against his own with the whispered admission. “Good.” It’s a thickly accented purr of his own, staunching any responses with the press of his kiss — finite, like sealing the deal.
“Everything.. And then some?” He purrs as he withdraws from the kiss, arms smoothing along Danta’s hips, curving up to get a better hold on him. “Let us see what we can do, shall we?” He ensures he’s got a good pin on the Maverick, withdrawing his torso enough to shift his hands, flattening with curls of flame against his chest and up along his shoulders, one drifting up to Danta’s neck where he winds a smoking hand around reverently. “I am thinking that perhaps we switch it up.” Which, with the lilt of his smirk, has his arms winding around his lover again to lift him, to cradle him close, before he’s taking them to the window where the light filters in streams of golds and cool whites. He sets him down atop the table that’s been shoved there, pushing aside anything left on it like a cat might knock a glass off of a table.
And once he’s done that, he plants both hands beside Danta’s legs, half bent over to get into his space, pushing him back toward the cool glass of the window; seeking out another chaste kiss before he aims to trail his lips along his lover’s jaw and neck, then, down along his collarbone in a slow and calculated movement.
His lips curl with a twitch of a smirk as he keeps that distance, enough that Danta’s lips do brush against his own with the whispered admission. “Good.” It’s a thickly accented purr of his own, staunching any responses with the press of his kiss — finite, like sealing the deal.
“Everything.. And then some?” He purrs as he withdraws from the kiss, arms smoothing along Danta’s hips, curving up to get a better hold on him. “Let us see what we can do, shall we?” He ensures he’s got a good pin on the Maverick, withdrawing his torso enough to shift his hands, flattening with curls of flame against his chest and up along his shoulders, one drifting up to Danta’s neck where he winds a smoking hand around reverently. “I am thinking that perhaps we switch it up.” Which, with the lilt of his smirk, has his arms winding around his lover again to lift him, to cradle him close, before he’s taking them to the window where the light filters in streams of golds and cool whites. He sets him down atop the table that’s been shoved there, pushing aside anything left on it like a cat might knock a glass off of a table.
And once he’s done that, he plants both hands beside Danta’s legs, half bent over to get into his space, pushing him back toward the cool glass of the window; seeking out another chaste kiss before he aims to trail his lips along his lover’s jaw and neck, then, down along his collarbone in a slow and calculated movement.
Astaroth
run, baby, run, run for your life
