sweetest tongue has sharpest tooth

// up above so, up above so quiet //

He keeps his smile on display as if prepped for the inspection Danta does — feeling the warmth of his hand as it cups his jaw, each gleaming fang visible and wickedly sharp. It’s a temporary inspection, however, because of how he tilts his head back and closes his eyes, prepared to continue their little guessing game so that not all is lost. “I am sure to indulge you on those occasions.” With the trinkets he brings back from the few ventures he takes, that is. Although, unfortunately, they aren’t alive any longer.

Regardless, the butcher’s eyes remain closed as he feels his lover shift in his lap, the smile on his face brightening a fraction before the scent of the cake hits him and he opens his mouth quite swiftly. He’s right in that it doesn’t take a lot of guesswork. The flavor is sharp, warm, sweet, and fucking strong.

He chews it (minimally because it definitely falls apart the second it hits his tongue), and he hums a warm and bubbling laugh, muted because he swallows the bite and lets the heat of the brandy warm him further as it descends down his throat and chest. “Wow.” He says as he rumbles another soft laugh, eyes still closed, fingers tracing idle lines against Danta’s legs. “Brandy. I would very much like this all of Deepfrost, if it is not too much trouble.” Opening his eyes, the dark honey swims with amusement and truth.

Astaroth

// down below so, down below so violent //