[SE] with dirt on your knees and blood in your teeth

// once you're in my shining cathedral, heed the tolling bell //

He can’t help the snort that leaves him – knowing how not-forthcoming the apology would be if there was one to give. It’s amusement that reflects in the dark of his gaze as his Ancient traits melt away and Danta finds those perfect spaces against his scalp that has him melting into his touch. Shivering in delight, there’s a low hum that leaves him as he tilts his head ever so slightly into the touch.

“Perhaps when we take a trek to the House of Midnight I can show you what it was like.” The butcher hums thoughtfully, because yes – it had been just as dreadful as Danta can imagine, he’s sure. It’s a small mercy that he hadn’t been anything but an Accepted at the time, otherwise he truly wouldn’t have survived it.

He works to unbutton his shirt, smiling affectionately up at the Maverick to hear that he feels better, he returns his hands to Danta’s skin when he leans forward enough for the shirt to be pushed down. He doesn’t get a chance to respond, though, not with the press of the kiss – though the butcher would never complain. If anything, his arms tighten around him and he presses back into the kiss, greedier than normal, a true indicator of just how much he missed him in the time he’d been gone.

Astaroth

// it's the final sound you hear as you descend to hell //