// there's a reason that they hate me, a reason that they need me //
He succumbs so quickly he hardly even knows it’s happened. And with the weight of the season already starting to bear down on him, the butcher sleeps heavily as if subconsciously knowing that where they were in the desert and with not a single soul around that he can sleep this deeply. It works out, though, because he doesn’t move aside from the twitch of his hands for the loss of heat from Danta’s departure to set up their tent further, nestled into the furs and by all means comfortable in his sleep.
As he starts to wake, though, his eyes have yet to open when he starts to stretch. He doesn’t quite register the weight of Danta on him as he indulges in the full body stretch, back arching with a satisfied little huff of breath, drawn back down for his hands to brush against Danta’s legs that have his eyes opening slowly at first.
The tip of the braid rests in the hollow of his throat, and he peers up through a heavy lidded view to spy his fiancé looking absolutely magical in the thrum of firelight from the sconces and braziers. It wakes him up, his dark gaze tracing the sharp lines of his face and the rainbow hue of his horns, trailing down along the much less red bite mark left behind from their earlier rendezvous, to the box cradled in his hands, then back up to try and catch those stunning blues of his eyes.
He wants to say that Danta was right when it came to relaxing him, but what comes out instead is a quiet, sleep drenched “you are so beautiful” before he tries to wake himself up a bit more, a smile tugging on the corners of his lips as his gaze drops back down to his lover’s hands.
As he starts to wake, though, his eyes have yet to open when he starts to stretch. He doesn’t quite register the weight of Danta on him as he indulges in the full body stretch, back arching with a satisfied little huff of breath, drawn back down for his hands to brush against Danta’s legs that have his eyes opening slowly at first.
The tip of the braid rests in the hollow of his throat, and he peers up through a heavy lidded view to spy his fiancé looking absolutely magical in the thrum of firelight from the sconces and braziers. It wakes him up, his dark gaze tracing the sharp lines of his face and the rainbow hue of his horns, trailing down along the much less red bite mark left behind from their earlier rendezvous, to the box cradled in his hands, then back up to try and catch those stunning blues of his eyes.
He wants to say that Danta was right when it came to relaxing him, but what comes out instead is a quiet, sleep drenched “you are so beautiful” before he tries to wake himself up a bit more, a smile tugging on the corners of his lips as his gaze drops back down to his lover’s hands.
Astaroth
// there's a reason to enslave me and a reason to defeat me //
