[SE] 'til you get to the bottomland

// there's a reason that they hate me, a reason that they need me //

His heart hammers in his chest, slowing down every few seconds, but mirroring the rain that pelts against the striped tent. Not that he notices it, only focusing on the person that matters to him. His eyes open, dark gaze taking in the blurred form of his lover’s disheveled face, dropping his weight slowly onto the Maverick so as to not squish him.

His tail loosens from Danta’s leg, sweeping across the furs as he indulges in the touch sweeping down his back, over scar tissue and sensitive skin that draw out gentle shivers and hitches of breath. “I’m yours, too.” His voice keeps with that Whitebrim accent, losing himself to the basest version of himself, his head drawn back enough now to be able to take Danta in perfectly well and reaching up to brush loose strands of gold from his face. The tension in his shoulders slowly starts to dissipate.

“Mm, well, it’s their funeral if they interrupt. I’m quite happy where I am.” The butcher’s red tinted lips quirk in a smirk as his hand drops toward Danta’s shoulders, to the teeth marks there. “Did we bring anything to heal you?” He asks, brushing away the blonde tipped in crimson, his head tilting as he inspects the bite more closely.

Astaroth

// there's a reason to enslave me and a reason to defeat me //