// i get a toothache every time i lie to someone i love //
More than one cigarette is produced and the butcher is quite pleased with the idea of it as they pad toward the window. Already the light from outside overwhelms the inside, allocating for a beautiful view without the reflection of them staring out at it. But the butcher isn’t peering out at the glittering waves that look like starlight in the night, he’s looking at Danta instead, watching, waiting.
The glamour vanishes, diamond horns melting away into nothing but soft waves of fair hair, and the butcher immediately steps into motion, reaching the bench-like sill. He immediately gets comfortable, back pressed against the edge of the wall that juts out, the wood warm and comfortable and worn where it meets scar tissue and flesh. Reaching for Danta, then, to tug him back into his lap so his back can press against his own, he tucks the blanket up around them, arms winding around Danta’s middle as his tail wags a touch too canine-like.
Resting his bearded chin on his lover’s shoulder, he waits patiently for the cigarette to be placed between his lips before the spark of flame ignites the both of them once they’re ready, and one hand lifts to brush through the Maverick’s hair gently, brushing it back and out of his eyes so that he might get the perfect view of the ships. “It is a lovely view, isn’t it?” He hums softly, muffled only by the cigarette from where it hangs from his lips.
The glamour vanishes, diamond horns melting away into nothing but soft waves of fair hair, and the butcher immediately steps into motion, reaching the bench-like sill. He immediately gets comfortable, back pressed against the edge of the wall that juts out, the wood warm and comfortable and worn where it meets scar tissue and flesh. Reaching for Danta, then, to tug him back into his lap so his back can press against his own, he tucks the blanket up around them, arms winding around Danta’s middle as his tail wags a touch too canine-like.
Resting his bearded chin on his lover’s shoulder, he waits patiently for the cigarette to be placed between his lips before the spark of flame ignites the both of them once they’re ready, and one hand lifts to brush through the Maverick’s hair gently, brushing it back and out of his eyes so that he might get the perfect view of the ships. “It is a lovely view, isn’t it?” He hums softly, muffled only by the cigarette from where it hangs from his lips.
Astaroth
// please just look me in my rotting smile and tell me i'm the only one you think of //
