// up above so, up above so quiet //
“Good. I look forward to hearing his grumbling complaints in passing.” The butcher teases, his smile tugging a bit brighter as he notices the rest of the cakes laid out. He reaches out, then, snagging a bite of the first cake - citrus and cream cheese frosting, uncaring for the moment that he dips his fingers into the frosting. He takes the bite and spends a moment licking the icing from his fingers as his free hand continues to sweep up his lover’s side. He relaxes into the cushions a bit more, too, brows lifting a fraction to see the apologetic smile bloom.
And he isn’t really expecting the apology, but not unlike a cat does the butcher tilt his head into his touch, affection glittering in the dark honey of his eyes. “Do not be sorry, darling.” He hums, pressing a soft kiss to his palm before he blinks back over at him as he leans in. “Perhaps we can go run amok in the swamp again?” He teases, head tilting up to press a kiss to the tip of his lover’s nose once he’s brushed his own against his.
A low, dramatic gasp is inhaled, his fingertips twitching against Danta’s skin from where he’s tucked his hand up under the oversize shirt he wears. “A fight club? An extracurricular activity that sounds heavenly this season. I cannot wait.” He murmurs with a warm laugh. And then he’s surging in to capture him in a kiss, something gentler than he’s been initially capable of instigating this season. It’s sweet and gentle but borders on the edge of desire and need that he seems to be trying to restrain.
And he isn’t really expecting the apology, but not unlike a cat does the butcher tilt his head into his touch, affection glittering in the dark honey of his eyes. “Do not be sorry, darling.” He hums, pressing a soft kiss to his palm before he blinks back over at him as he leans in. “Perhaps we can go run amok in the swamp again?” He teases, head tilting up to press a kiss to the tip of his lover’s nose once he’s brushed his own against his.
A low, dramatic gasp is inhaled, his fingertips twitching against Danta’s skin from where he’s tucked his hand up under the oversize shirt he wears. “A fight club? An extracurricular activity that sounds heavenly this season. I cannot wait.” He murmurs with a warm laugh. And then he’s surging in to capture him in a kiss, something gentler than he’s been initially capable of instigating this season. It’s sweet and gentle but borders on the edge of desire and need that he seems to be trying to restrain.
Astaroth
// down below so, down below so violent //
