and you'll wake up all alone, on an old beat-down dirt country road
and you'll crawl back through fire and snow
and you'll crawl back through fire and snow
It comes with its own little relief when Danta slips the fabric the rest of the way from his shoulders – all scars and nearly gone bruises on full display alongside the intense heat of his body. “I do not know.” The butcher hums, an inch of worry finding itself in the soft laugh that leaves him. “On one hand, you would never not be tired because I have been ensuring that. On the other hand, it is a bit like going from a drought to a flood.” Sexually, if he isn’t being obvious enough. “I am unsure if I can meet in the middle.” The middle is relative – but its somewhere he imagines Danta’s libido to be.
And he knows he’s swung rapidly from one side to the other at a whiplash pace.
The agreement softens him, though, and he hums a soft sound to feel Danta’s hand stroke through his hair and press against the base of his horns. It relaxes him, enough that his haunt makes a small appearance in how he seems like he’s bleeding shadows out of him, blanketing the couch like spilled ink.
As for the offer? The butcher tilts his chin up with enough movement to press a soft kiss of agreement to his lips, withdrawing a small amount. “That sounds perfect. I can make some tea and keep you in my lap at the window sill while we people watch.” Already planning it, the butcher’s tail starts to wag with his quiet delight.
And he knows he’s swung rapidly from one side to the other at a whiplash pace.
The agreement softens him, though, and he hums a soft sound to feel Danta’s hand stroke through his hair and press against the base of his horns. It relaxes him, enough that his haunt makes a small appearance in how he seems like he’s bleeding shadows out of him, blanketing the couch like spilled ink.
As for the offer? The butcher tilts his chin up with enough movement to press a soft kiss of agreement to his lips, withdrawing a small amount. “That sounds perfect. I can make some tea and keep you in my lap at the window sill while we people watch.” Already planning it, the butcher’s tail starts to wag with his quiet delight.
Astaroth
'cause there ain't no other place to go
