— frozen grounds and leafless trees
“Do I?” The bucher asks with a hint of sarcasm interlaced in the quiet tones of his hoarse voice, his smile still tugging on his face as Danta disentangles his raven dark strands of hair from equally dark horns. It’s something that he leans into slightly – craving the heat of the other Ancient’s kettle warmed hands before they vanish. Leaning in for the brush of his nose against his cheek, the butcher’s head tilts enough to press a soft kiss to wherever he can reach.
A soft laugh leaves him, a hand bundled beneath the bunch of furs and blankets rising as if in gesture to wave off the laziness. “So long as I have approval for an extended vacation, Danta, darling.” The butcher teases as he does slowly rise, drawing himself over toward the fire to sit by where Danta had placed their tea. He’s there when the Maverick returns to adjust everything he’d snagged to create a perfect little den of warmth right in front of the fire, complete with their plus pillows and multitude of blankets.
His smile stretches more as he readjusts himself, settling into the pillows and loosening his deathgrip on the blankets wrapped around him as the heat pours in from the crackling flame. “This is perfect.” He murmurs in a softer tone, one laced with a touch of surprise and affection. “Now come here.” He says once he’s stifled another yawn, this season harboring none of the possessive neediness last season had. Such that if Danta indulges him, it’ll be to wrap up in his lap with the blankets and their tea in front of the fire where the butcher definitelywill won’t pass out with his arms around his lover.
A soft laugh leaves him, a hand bundled beneath the bunch of furs and blankets rising as if in gesture to wave off the laziness. “So long as I have approval for an extended vacation, Danta, darling.” The butcher teases as he does slowly rise, drawing himself over toward the fire to sit by where Danta had placed their tea. He’s there when the Maverick returns to adjust everything he’d snagged to create a perfect little den of warmth right in front of the fire, complete with their plus pillows and multitude of blankets.
His smile stretches more as he readjusts himself, settling into the pillows and loosening his deathgrip on the blankets wrapped around him as the heat pours in from the crackling flame. “This is perfect.” He murmurs in a softer tone, one laced with a touch of surprise and affection. “Now come here.” He says once he’s stifled another yawn, this season harboring none of the possessive neediness last season had. Such that if Danta indulges him, it’ll be to wrap up in his lap with the blankets and their tea in front of the fire where the butcher definitely
Astaroth
the woods will haunt you like a frigid breeze —
