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
Numb fingers rake through the butcher's hair, but they feel determined in the way it adds to the careless sleep tossed way the long strands of onyx have become. He indulges in the touch, catching his breath as much as he can as the weightlessness comes careening down back into reality. Reality in which his emotions haven’t changed despite the release.
So when he hears the whisper, the answer is nothing short of no, not really. But unsure how to even explain it, the butcher finds himself hesitating, indulging in the press of lips to his crown, the way he still is writhed in shadows as he curls into Danta for a few moments longer before beginning to withdraw.
Not far, though. Just enough to sink back into their bed and tug his lover back in with him. “I feel… wrong.” He starts to admit, the smile lines on his face tugging awkwardly with the frown that finds its place there, his shadows disappearing from his shoulders to sneak up into his horns to make them larger, pointier, one akin to what he’d prefer if given the choice. “In the sense that I need you close.” It’s so cryptic but he doesn’t know how else to describe it. So he shifts a little instead, fingers dancing up Danta’s side as he lets his amber gaze swarming with his confusion scan his lover’s stunning face. “I do not know how to describe it.” The apology in his tone is only barely there, gentle as he tries to parse the sensation.
So when he hears the whisper, the answer is nothing short of no, not really. But unsure how to even explain it, the butcher finds himself hesitating, indulging in the press of lips to his crown, the way he still is writhed in shadows as he curls into Danta for a few moments longer before beginning to withdraw.
Not far, though. Just enough to sink back into their bed and tug his lover back in with him. “I feel… wrong.” He starts to admit, the smile lines on his face tugging awkwardly with the frown that finds its place there, his shadows disappearing from his shoulders to sneak up into his horns to make them larger, pointier, one akin to what he’d prefer if given the choice. “In the sense that I need you close.” It’s so cryptic but he doesn’t know how else to describe it. So he shifts a little instead, fingers dancing up Danta’s side as he lets his amber gaze swarming with his confusion scan his lover’s stunning face. “I do not know how to describe it.” The apology in his tone is only barely there, gentle as he tries to parse the sensation.
Astaroth
it's a roulette kinda deal, black and red is what you get
