there's an angel on your story and a demon in your bed
feels a bit surreal, feeling bad, don't feel it yet
feels a bit surreal, feeling bad, don't feel it yet
It’s a good thing he’s very much not thinking about the Flood at this particular moment. Right now, the burning thoughts of what awaits them on the other side of the door are enough to drive him insane. Anything added to that and he might actually combust into flame, despite how well he’s tried to keep his haunt mostly at bay.
But the shadow is a sentinel as he lets Danta’s mind focus from the shadows of slumber he’s dragged him from, ignoring the questions before the realization sinks in if only so he can nestle in and steal another kiss from his cheek. Subconsciously following the lines felt from Danta’s fingers as they smooth up against his back, the butcher shifts, situating himself into a blanket that drapes against his lover just as he presses back in. “If I am being honest, I do not know.” He admits, feeling the huff of a laugh leave him in just as much surprise as his admission had been, but it doesn’t stop the way his arms start to smooth down along his sides and hips. “I do know, however, that I want nothing more than you right now.” Which he thinks (even in his sleepy state) that Danta might appreciate.
It’s when he finally dives in to stake that claim of a kiss that somehow is not tinged in the iron of blood or the smoke of fire that makes it seem all the more strange when he situates himself where he can press his hips against Danta’s own, desire clear despite not having the usual precursors. “I hope you do not have plans.” Comes the husky purr, the sudden neediness and greed in the butcher’s tone that’s so very rarely there.
But the shadow is a sentinel as he lets Danta’s mind focus from the shadows of slumber he’s dragged him from, ignoring the questions before the realization sinks in if only so he can nestle in and steal another kiss from his cheek. Subconsciously following the lines felt from Danta’s fingers as they smooth up against his back, the butcher shifts, situating himself into a blanket that drapes against his lover just as he presses back in. “If I am being honest, I do not know.” He admits, feeling the huff of a laugh leave him in just as much surprise as his admission had been, but it doesn’t stop the way his arms start to smooth down along his sides and hips. “I do know, however, that I want nothing more than you right now.” Which he thinks (even in his sleepy state) that Danta might appreciate.
It’s when he finally dives in to stake that claim of a kiss that somehow is not tinged in the iron of blood or the smoke of fire that makes it seem all the more strange when he situates himself where he can press his hips against Danta’s own, desire clear despite not having the usual precursors. “I hope you do not have plans.” Comes the husky purr, the sudden neediness and greed in the butcher’s tone that’s so very rarely there.
Astaroth
it's a roulette kinda deal, black and red is what you get
