// we haven't won, and if we win, //
Snorting and shaking his head, the butcher relaxes into the touch – because while he likely would be doing a where the fuck is this motion, he imagines with this being the result of having moved things, the butcher can’t be too upset. And he isn’t, at all. He’s content to sit there and keep Danta’s hands on him for as long as possible.
“Were they the bosses of the ones that helped us sneak out?” He asks in a sleepy, conspirator’s voice, melting into the touch now that the knot is worked out. He can hear the smile, though, and he lingers on it along with the warm press of his lips to the back of his neck and the hands in his hair, humming the quiet groan from his throat.
The follow up question takes him a moment to respond, putting his thoughts together before the low timber of his voice hums out, sleepy and far thicker accented, muffled from how he’s resting his face against his arms. “I will never have enough of you, darling.”
“Were they the bosses of the ones that helped us sneak out?” He asks in a sleepy, conspirator’s voice, melting into the touch now that the knot is worked out. He can hear the smile, though, and he lingers on it along with the warm press of his lips to the back of his neck and the hands in his hair, humming the quiet groan from his throat.
The follow up question takes him a moment to respond, putting his thoughts together before the low timber of his voice hums out, sleepy and far thicker accented, muffled from how he’s resting his face against his arms. “I will never have enough of you, darling.”
Astaroth
// and if the morning light sets in, we've cheated fate again //
