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
The sharp hardness and spikes of diamond horns vanishes, allowing for a much closer tuck of his lovers head into his neck, and Astaroth breathes a soft sigh of relief as he presses his head harder against the Maverick’s. It’s a momentary nuzzle as he feels the kiss to his cheek, his eyes still closed as he tries to mentally prepare himself for whatever awaits him when he does open his eyes.
A low hum of agreement slips from his nose, muffled with the way Danta shifts, and it’s with a kiss that’s all consuming that the butcher does finally open his eyes when they part, his own black in the light and hesitant, careful and cautious. He scans his lover’s face, ensuring he’s okay for the umpteenth time, his tail slipping across his legs to wind around Danta’s leg, to ground them both. “Do you think that is wise?” He asks, given their state. Would Danta be able to walk the cold trek to the Dusklight with their clothes that had been cut off, a lost cause.
Before Danta has a chance to answer, though, the butcher leans forward to close the miniscule distance between their lips, claiming a selfishly soothing kiss of his own, trying to push through the fact that he’s somewhat okay.
A low hum of agreement slips from his nose, muffled with the way Danta shifts, and it’s with a kiss that’s all consuming that the butcher does finally open his eyes when they part, his own black in the light and hesitant, careful and cautious. He scans his lover’s face, ensuring he’s okay for the umpteenth time, his tail slipping across his legs to wind around Danta’s leg, to ground them both. “Do you think that is wise?” He asks, given their state. Would Danta be able to walk the cold trek to the Dusklight with their clothes that had been cut off, a lost cause.
Before Danta has a chance to answer, though, the butcher leans forward to close the miniscule distance between their lips, claiming a selfishly soothing kiss of his own, trying to push through the fact that he’s somewhat okay.
Astaroth
run, baby, run, run for your life
