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 feels it the second Danta finally collapses into sleep. It’s boneless and heavy, impossible to move - not that the butcher would. And he remains awake for Dygra knows how long, settling in the best that he can with the numbing of the pain still dressed up in a nice bandage. The pain meds work well, keeping the stinging from being unbearable as he tries to fall asleep after his lover, but it definitely takes work and time.
Eventually, though, he succumbs. And not unlike the other times he’d been injured and taken these painkillers, he’s a statue in the bed once he’s gotten onto his back and tugged the blonde Ancient into his chest. Still close, still radiating heat. He doesn’t even stir when the sun starts to try and trickle into the dark of their den.
If anything, he shifts now to roll onto his side, biting back the fresh sting of pain from the wound with the movement, having forgotten about it briefly in his sleep. He mutes it, though, but it certainly wakes him up. He hears the no, mumbled hoarsely into the pillow, and he knows that he should get up and take more of the pain medication, but he can’t bear to part with Danta for too long upon waking up.
So he swallows down the pain, propping himself up a little more comfortably, arm still wrapped around his lover while the other lifts to thread his fingers through the still bloodstained blonde, gently brushing it back. Enamored silently with the way the sun filters along his golden hair, even though it’s tainted with copper, has all the appearance of liquid gold. “I will not go anywhere.” Comes his equally hoarse whisper, fussing gently over the Maverick while he can, committing every second to memory and to soothe the pain in his heart.
Eventually, though, he succumbs. And not unlike the other times he’d been injured and taken these painkillers, he’s a statue in the bed once he’s gotten onto his back and tugged the blonde Ancient into his chest. Still close, still radiating heat. He doesn’t even stir when the sun starts to try and trickle into the dark of their den.
If anything, he shifts now to roll onto his side, biting back the fresh sting of pain from the wound with the movement, having forgotten about it briefly in his sleep. He mutes it, though, but it certainly wakes him up. He hears the no, mumbled hoarsely into the pillow, and he knows that he should get up and take more of the pain medication, but he can’t bear to part with Danta for too long upon waking up.
So he swallows down the pain, propping himself up a little more comfortably, arm still wrapped around his lover while the other lifts to thread his fingers through the still bloodstained blonde, gently brushing it back. Enamored silently with the way the sun filters along his golden hair, even though it’s tainted with copper, has all the appearance of liquid gold. “I will not go anywhere.” Comes his equally hoarse whisper, fussing gently over the Maverick while he can, committing every second to memory and to soothe the pain in his heart.
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
