run, baby, run, run for your life
i'ma tear out your heart, it'll always be mine
i'ma tear out your heart, it'll always be mine
He’s learned to concede – even if he thinks that it shouldn’t be Danta’s place to constantly have to reach out on his behalf when something goes wrong, he knows that it’s just as important for Danta in those instances to feel as though he’s also being heard. So he leans in to pepper him with kisses after he hums a quiet agreement of not flying in this shitty weather.
Hearing the scoff of laughter his lover tries to hide loosens the held tension in his bones, his muscles relaxing as Danta’s hand cups his jaw and his thumb brushes against his cheek, allowing him to peer down at him with a small twitch of a smile on his lips – deepening familiar smile lines. “It did not help.” He mumbles a little, his smile twitching brighter before he’s making the suggestion of a fire bath.
He feels the blonde sag against him and his fingers twitch against his back as if prepping to carry him. “Mm, do not take too long to join me.” He murmurs, shifting slightly so that he cranes over his lover, reaching up with a hand to brush away loose strands of blonde before he claims a real and proper kiss.
It isn’t one he makes short, either, withdrawing when it feels appropriate to even if he’s still reluctant about it. His dark gaze glitters with his affection and apology, and a surprising sober exterior as if all of his worrying had cut through the alcohol like a hot knife in butter. He draws the fire up a bit brighter once he slips from the bed and the nest of blankets, his figure shrouded by the dark with the flame behind him. Lowering himself down toward the fireplace, he sticks his hands into the ash and soot with a sigh of relief, slipping in all the way to his elbow.
Then, when he thinks he’s moved enough things around within the flame, he shifts to sit against it, half in the flame, unable to fold his long legs into the space, at the very least his chest is warm enough that he beckons Danta over.
Hearing the scoff of laughter his lover tries to hide loosens the held tension in his bones, his muscles relaxing as Danta’s hand cups his jaw and his thumb brushes against his cheek, allowing him to peer down at him with a small twitch of a smile on his lips – deepening familiar smile lines. “It did not help.” He mumbles a little, his smile twitching brighter before he’s making the suggestion of a fire bath.
He feels the blonde sag against him and his fingers twitch against his back as if prepping to carry him. “Mm, do not take too long to join me.” He murmurs, shifting slightly so that he cranes over his lover, reaching up with a hand to brush away loose strands of blonde before he claims a real and proper kiss.
It isn’t one he makes short, either, withdrawing when it feels appropriate to even if he’s still reluctant about it. His dark gaze glitters with his affection and apology, and a surprising sober exterior as if all of his worrying had cut through the alcohol like a hot knife in butter. He draws the fire up a bit brighter once he slips from the bed and the nest of blankets, his figure shrouded by the dark with the flame behind him. Lowering himself down toward the fireplace, he sticks his hands into the ash and soot with a sigh of relief, slipping in all the way to his elbow.
Then, when he thinks he’s moved enough things around within the flame, he shifts to sit against it, half in the flame, unable to fold his long legs into the space, at the very least his chest is warm enough that he beckons Danta over.
Astaroth
run, baby, run, run for your life
