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
The line of kisses are a warm fire as they descend down his throat and his collarbones, over the rough edges of where the scars of his chest flatten into unaltered skin. “Perhaps.” Comes the low rumble, the hum that doesn’t seem like he believes it. He’s fairly certain he didn’t dream last night. He doesn’t dream most nights, now that the crow charm has permanently been wound around his wrist. But it’s easier to explain that idea than it is just why he’s suddenly so protective, as if he’s jealous of the way even the light spills across his lover’s face in it’s golden, muted light.
But all of it collapses down into the thought of breakfast, broken up by the knock on the door that sparks an over possessive hold and grip on the Maverick. His breath escapes him in a slow hiss, even as he tilts subconsciously into Danta’s hand as it cups his cheek. He shivers a little, into the kiss, distracted, melting briefly and for far too short of a time, before Asta’s withdrawing with an affectionate nuzzle. “I will get it.” He murmurs softly, confident, unwilling to let Danta slip out of the bed.
He exhales another quiet sigh before he draws himself up, his shadows pulling into him as an onyx cloak, wisping as he slips out of the den, as if taking all of the shadows of it with him in a long train as he steps toward the door, horns wide and extended out in multiple tines. He waits a few heartbeats before he snags the paper, scanning it, and after a few more heartbeats does he open the door, snagging their breakfast tray to a blessedly empty corridor.
He closes it quickly behind him, bringing the tray and the letter back toward Danta, sitting on the edge of the bed with one leg tucked under him while his tail continues to whip about against the wood of the floor. “Kiada was just informing you that she is back from her honeymoon.”
But all of it collapses down into the thought of breakfast, broken up by the knock on the door that sparks an over possessive hold and grip on the Maverick. His breath escapes him in a slow hiss, even as he tilts subconsciously into Danta’s hand as it cups his cheek. He shivers a little, into the kiss, distracted, melting briefly and for far too short of a time, before Asta’s withdrawing with an affectionate nuzzle. “I will get it.” He murmurs softly, confident, unwilling to let Danta slip out of the bed.
He exhales another quiet sigh before he draws himself up, his shadows pulling into him as an onyx cloak, wisping as he slips out of the den, as if taking all of the shadows of it with him in a long train as he steps toward the door, horns wide and extended out in multiple tines. He waits a few heartbeats before he snags the paper, scanning it, and after a few more heartbeats does he open the door, snagging their breakfast tray to a blessedly empty corridor.
He closes it quickly behind him, bringing the tray and the letter back toward Danta, sitting on the edge of the bed with one leg tucked under him while his tail continues to whip about against the wood of the floor. “Kiada was just informing you that she is back from her honeymoon.”
Astaroth
it's a roulette kinda deal, black and red is what you get
