my, my, those eyes like fire, i'm a winged insect, you're a funeral pyre
come now, bite through these wires,
come now, bite through these wires,
Those five words are perhaps the best news the butcher has heard in the recent days and as such, he indulges in the heat of the fireplace as it roars to life, reflecting on the dark pane of glass that makes up their windows within their room. Not that the butcher is too focused on it, not while he reaches for Danta to steal a gentle kiss, appreciative as it is a touch needy – as if he’s forgotten how to be so overwhelmingly needy after last season.
His arms drop to wrap loosely around his waist as they part, and Danta’s right in the assumption that he doesn’t particularly want to part from Danta at all. “Thank you, love. And thank you for the perfect outing.” He purrs softly, ducking his head a touch as Danta slips off the delicate chains and the other gold additions from his horns.
All the while his dark gaze scans his lover’s face and memorizes the gentle lines in his face, the way the light reflects against his skin, turning his blonde strands into liquid gold. “Gods you are incredible.” His arms squeeze him lightly before loosening again so he can slip the belt off and he busies himself with helping Danta slip out the corvid feather accessory from his hair. “How did you manage that?” He asks playfully, like he isn’t talking to the Theocrat or the owner of the Dusklight.
His arms drop to wrap loosely around his waist as they part, and Danta’s right in the assumption that he doesn’t particularly want to part from Danta at all. “Thank you, love. And thank you for the perfect outing.” He purrs softly, ducking his head a touch as Danta slips off the delicate chains and the other gold additions from his horns.
All the while his dark gaze scans his lover’s face and memorizes the gentle lines in his face, the way the light reflects against his skin, turning his blonde strands into liquid gold. “Gods you are incredible.” His arms squeeze him lightly before loosening again so he can slip the belt off and he busies himself with helping Danta slip out the corvid feather accessory from his hair. “How did you manage that?” He asks playfully, like he isn’t talking to the Theocrat or the owner of the Dusklight.
Astaroth
i'm a waking hell and the gods grow tired
