the wind around the willow

i'm the escape to something that's worse
i am the shadow driving the hearse

The warmth of the kisses pressed to his throat is almost enough to distract from the sore bruises that have bloomed darker over time, but even still the butcher is a glutton for punishment with how he leans into the touch again and again. “Oh, gods no, darling. I will gladly suffer through any further pain to go and be in our bed.” Where he can curl up until he feels a little less painful and stop taking up the majority of their business space.

His fingers stroke gentle massaging motions against Danta’s neck before it trails down his spine slowly, seeking out his hand once he’s tucked the butcher knife roll in his back pocket, stiffly turning toward the door that would lead them to the hall with the stairs to their room. “You should. It would be good for you.” He pauses so he can focus on the time it takes to get to the stairs, peering up them with a long deep-rooted hatred.

“Perhaps I will reach out to Flora and see if I can spend time in the Wildering House while you are gone. It would keep me out of trouble.” He suggests, sending his dark gaze back over toward Danta with a small twitch of a smile that’s broken up by the pain of taking one of the steps to start.

Astaroth

what was it like to feel in love?