Astaroth
// but if you think I'm misery,
It was very much a vibe for the butcher to believe he could manage something with flying colors or ten out of tens on the first try. Perhaps because it has been so long since he’d had to learn something new, in a season that has allowed him to feel the most like himself for half of a year. Deep down, though, it was arrogance and the assumption it couldn’t be that hard, when it actually was.
His hair is back where it should be, at least, and he doesn’t have to feel the stickiness of mud on his face or his eyes every time his nose scrunches. Relief swells with it and allows him to focus more on the Maverick, not giving either of them a chance to respond to the quip of a crowd as he claims his lips in a kiss.
Danta shrinks the distance between them and one hand sweeps around to spread his hands against his lower back, the other rising to tug mud and dirt free from the golden strands of his lover's hair. “I did have an audience when I threw myself into the mud.” He admits in a low hum against his lips. He twists them slightly after a moment of enjoying the little massage, so that he can press him against the wall of the shower, pinning him by his hips as he leans back to run his hands more fully through his hair, losing more and more of the mud in dark rivers of water down his skin and the butcher’s arms.
“But no, it was not all that bad. We did finally get home and did not turn to stone in the muck.” It could be worse, right?
His hair is back where it should be, at least, and he doesn’t have to feel the stickiness of mud on his face or his eyes every time his nose scrunches. Relief swells with it and allows him to focus more on the Maverick, not giving either of them a chance to respond to the quip of a crowd as he claims his lips in a kiss.
Danta shrinks the distance between them and one hand sweeps around to spread his hands against his lower back, the other rising to tug mud and dirt free from the golden strands of his lover's hair. “I did have an audience when I threw myself into the mud.” He admits in a low hum against his lips. He twists them slightly after a moment of enjoying the little massage, so that he can press him against the wall of the shower, pinning him by his hips as he leans back to run his hands more fully through his hair, losing more and more of the mud in dark rivers of water down his skin and the butcher’s arms.
“But no, it was not all that bad. We did finally get home and did not turn to stone in the muck.” It could be worse, right?
then baby, all the company,
it never leaves me alone, no //
it never leaves me alone, no //
