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 likely wouldn’t be asked any time soon – not after he’d let all of them unleash earlier today. Though, perhaps it also gives away the fact that his puppet show is less to do with the shadows and silly stories than it does to become a horror movie – which means it’s likely a never again occurrence unless he could get away with it. But for now, he doesn’t feel like he can. He doesn’t even really feel like he wants to.
Which is saying a lot.
So, he presses into the kiss with all the appreciation and desire and adoration he has within him for the man beneath him before he’s forced to withdraw and cling to the sensation of the fingers in his hair, the weight of Danta’s arm around his neck, choosing to instead replace it with the kiss of fire from the fireplace that reaches out to brush against his shoulders and arms alike, even licking against the dark strands of his hair that have spread across his shoulders and back.
Once he’s settled, his dark gaze tracks Danta as he slinks out of the bed to join him, sitting beside him in the ash and comfort, leaning a touch into his space when he presses a too soft kiss to his shoulder. “Much.” He hums on a breath of relief, jostled against the stone and brick of the fireplace when Danta bullies himself under his arm. Easily looping it across his shoulders, the butcher tugs him in and squeezes him lightly, tilting his head into the flame to press another kiss to his lover – one wreathed in the very same fire they’re wrapped up in.
His free hand seeks out the other Ancient’s hand and he withdraws to inspect it and ensure every portion of grey has started to turn back to a normal color with the flame pouring around them. "Are you warming up well, my love?" He asks softly as a piece of wood cracks behind them.
Which is saying a lot.
So, he presses into the kiss with all the appreciation and desire and adoration he has within him for the man beneath him before he’s forced to withdraw and cling to the sensation of the fingers in his hair, the weight of Danta’s arm around his neck, choosing to instead replace it with the kiss of fire from the fireplace that reaches out to brush against his shoulders and arms alike, even licking against the dark strands of his hair that have spread across his shoulders and back.
Once he’s settled, his dark gaze tracks Danta as he slinks out of the bed to join him, sitting beside him in the ash and comfort, leaning a touch into his space when he presses a too soft kiss to his shoulder. “Much.” He hums on a breath of relief, jostled against the stone and brick of the fireplace when Danta bullies himself under his arm. Easily looping it across his shoulders, the butcher tugs him in and squeezes him lightly, tilting his head into the flame to press another kiss to his lover – one wreathed in the very same fire they’re wrapped up in.
His free hand seeks out the other Ancient’s hand and he withdraws to inspect it and ensure every portion of grey has started to turn back to a normal color with the flame pouring around them. "Are you warming up well, my love?" He asks softly as a piece of wood cracks behind them.
Astaroth
run, baby, run, run for your life
