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
At the first series of kisses pressed to his palm, Astaroth’s eyes close, content to continue to brush his hands along him gently wherever he can reach. His eyes open slightly, watching quietly as Danta begins to move with a good amount more mobility than he’d had previously. And without too much trouble, the blondes bed is abandoned in favor for the butcher’s.
His good arm winds around him, careful to not touch his back too much or his spine, brushing against his side softly as his cheek tilts to press against the horned crown of his head. He can feel the smile that presses to his skin, though there isn’t one that sits on his face. Just a quiet attempt at relaxing without falling asleep, trying to remain awake to the best of his ability even if he wants nothing more than to sleep.
It would be a disaster, though. So instead, he hums a quiet sound, far less vocal than he typically was, an indicator of his rebounding thoughts. “I miss our bed.” He drawls, huffing a warm sigh into the blonde that sticks up from their trek here and the time spent in the infirmary beds. “And I despise wearing this contraption.” He whines, pressing his cheek to Danta’s a touch harder.
His good arm winds around him, careful to not touch his back too much or his spine, brushing against his side softly as his cheek tilts to press against the horned crown of his head. He can feel the smile that presses to his skin, though there isn’t one that sits on his face. Just a quiet attempt at relaxing without falling asleep, trying to remain awake to the best of his ability even if he wants nothing more than to sleep.
It would be a disaster, though. So instead, he hums a quiet sound, far less vocal than he typically was, an indicator of his rebounding thoughts. “I miss our bed.” He drawls, huffing a warm sigh into the blonde that sticks up from their trek here and the time spent in the infirmary beds. “And I despise wearing this contraption.” He whines, pressing his cheek to Danta’s a touch harder.
Astaroth
run, baby, run, run for your life
