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
Asta also leaves the fire as it is, focusing instead on taking Danta’s hand into his own, pressing gentle kisses to each and every swollen and red finger. Taking diligent care in not hurting more but simply offering affection where he could, where he didn’t think it would trigger anything of their past by doing it. But he hears Danta’s soft voice, and presses a warm kiss licked with fire against the back of his lover’s hand before he lets it go. “I did not realize either.” He says in a mournful tone, exhaling a slow sound and making a mental note to make sure he helps him clean them up in the morning.
Because right now, the Maverick is finally curling into him, stiff and awkward but pressed against him and he can feel the soft press of the oversized clothes that Danta wears, and he presses in equally as much - slowly to start, because he’s still unsure. And just like that, he feels his lover’s body finally relax. He feels the tension bleed out, the brush of his nose against his neck, the quiet kiss pressed to his throat.
The butcher’s head tilts down a little to press against Danta’s golden hair, slipping his arms around him to keep him just as close and closes his eyes, suddenly overwhelmed with a surge of affection and surprise that feels so heavy in his throat that not even swallowing gets the sensation to lessen. "I love you." He repeats the mantra quietly, the silver thread that had blossomed in the entirety of the day. It's 319. I won't hurt you. I love you.
Because right now, the Maverick is finally curling into him, stiff and awkward but pressed against him and he can feel the soft press of the oversized clothes that Danta wears, and he presses in equally as much - slowly to start, because he’s still unsure. And just like that, he feels his lover’s body finally relax. He feels the tension bleed out, the brush of his nose against his neck, the quiet kiss pressed to his throat.
The butcher’s head tilts down a little to press against Danta’s golden hair, slipping his arms around him to keep him just as close and closes his eyes, suddenly overwhelmed with a surge of affection and surprise that feels so heavy in his throat that not even swallowing gets the sensation to lessen. "I love you." He repeats the mantra quietly, the silver thread that had blossomed in the entirety of the day. It's 319. I won't hurt you. I love you.
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
