so give me your prayers up on your feet
and i'll give you a show, it helps fill the seats
and i'll give you a show, it helps fill the seats
He misses Danta the second that there’s an inch of space between them. But for right now, this was required. It was needed. And only when they were all cleaned up and well enough again does Asta think they might be at a point to curl up together.
One step at a time, though, and the butcher feels intimately aware of his actions while he fills the bowl with water and heats it up with a flare of scorch, folding the cloths beside it until Danta’s joining him. The only movement aside that of his hands is the gentle and careful flick of his tail as he focuses, trying to ignore everything else in the time it takes for the Maverick to join him.
He doesn’t look up right away, spotting the broken and bloody nails he’d missed as the blonde had tried to excavate his way out of his office. But when the other man speaks, his gaze flits up immediately to Danta’s face, as if unsure, but he lets him. His gaze closes slowly, relishing in the soft touch of the warm cloth. “Please.” Comes the soft hum, having been content to forget about it if only to not ruin this hesitant peace.
The blood wipes up easily from his neck and face, and his hands he can wash up on his own with ease. The rest of him thankfully had already been cleaned up by the medic staff in the Infirmary, and while his hair still remains bloodied and dried, it’s a vast improvement.
But before Danta has a chance to step away, it’s his turn. He snags a cloth and dips it in and moves slowly enough for his lover to be able to tell his movements are coming before they become a surprise. And he starts gently washing away the splattered blood on his forehead, down his nose, to his cheeks - swiping away the tear tracks in reverent touches.
One step at a time, though, and the butcher feels intimately aware of his actions while he fills the bowl with water and heats it up with a flare of scorch, folding the cloths beside it until Danta’s joining him. The only movement aside that of his hands is the gentle and careful flick of his tail as he focuses, trying to ignore everything else in the time it takes for the Maverick to join him.
He doesn’t look up right away, spotting the broken and bloody nails he’d missed as the blonde had tried to excavate his way out of his office. But when the other man speaks, his gaze flits up immediately to Danta’s face, as if unsure, but he lets him. His gaze closes slowly, relishing in the soft touch of the warm cloth. “Please.” Comes the soft hum, having been content to forget about it if only to not ruin this hesitant peace.
The blood wipes up easily from his neck and face, and his hands he can wash up on his own with ease. The rest of him thankfully had already been cleaned up by the medic staff in the Infirmary, and while his hair still remains bloodied and dried, it’s a vast improvement.
But before Danta has a chance to step away, it’s his turn. He snags a cloth and dips it in and moves slowly enough for his lover to be able to tell his movements are coming before they become a surprise. And he starts gently washing away the splattered blood on his forehead, down his nose, to his cheeks - swiping away the tear tracks in reverent touches.
Astaroth
so give me your sins, give me your lies
but whisper your love, and i'll whisper mine
but whisper your love, and i'll whisper mine
