// once you're in my shining cathedral, heed the tolling bell //
As Danta’s back arches, they grow flush with one another, the curve of his body lining up against the butcher’s chest, his fingertips spreading out to keep the pressure applied as he leaves those possessive marks, greedy and full of just how much he missed him.
He doesn’t mind the wrinkle in his shirt, especially now when he’s got ways to straighten them back out. So Danta’s free to clench the smooth fabric of his shirt as the butcher’s kisses pause briefly, stuttering almost to hear the admission, unbidden and for his ears only.
It guides him back out from Danta’s neck, to trail kisses along his lover’s jawbone toward his lips, laying another claiming kiss upon him before he withdraws again, chest heaving slightly. “I love you too, darling.” He murmurs with all the confidence of a man not in the misty fog of nightmares, or after a fight, or when they’re so inebriated all of the thoughts spill from their lips.
It’s with another wave of wind that pelts rain against the windows that the butcher surges back in, twisting them so that he can fit between Danta’s legs and shed his shirt, releasing his glamour so that his horns and tail can return without worry of knocking into the headboard or wall. “Might I show you how much I missed you?” He asks as he folds the shirt mostly well enough, tossing it toward the end of the bed to likely be knocked off in the middle of the night, but he finds he doesn’t care as his dark gaze returns to his lover’s face.
He doesn’t mind the wrinkle in his shirt, especially now when he’s got ways to straighten them back out. So Danta’s free to clench the smooth fabric of his shirt as the butcher’s kisses pause briefly, stuttering almost to hear the admission, unbidden and for his ears only.
It guides him back out from Danta’s neck, to trail kisses along his lover’s jawbone toward his lips, laying another claiming kiss upon him before he withdraws again, chest heaving slightly. “I love you too, darling.” He murmurs with all the confidence of a man not in the misty fog of nightmares, or after a fight, or when they’re so inebriated all of the thoughts spill from their lips.
It’s with another wave of wind that pelts rain against the windows that the butcher surges back in, twisting them so that he can fit between Danta’s legs and shed his shirt, releasing his glamour so that his horns and tail can return without worry of knocking into the headboard or wall. “Might I show you how much I missed you?” He asks as he folds the shirt mostly well enough, tossing it toward the end of the bed to likely be knocked off in the middle of the night, but he finds he doesn’t care as his dark gaze returns to his lover’s face.
Astaroth
// it's the final sound you hear as you descend to hell //
