seven sins, don't let them in

// Greed won't rest 'til he's crowned as a king //

“Does that mean you are the baby when it comes to etiquette?” The butcher drawls, playfully sent back to the Maverick as he remains there against their furs and comfort, keeping his gaze lingering on every inch of his fiance’s exposed skin. A low laugh leaves him at the idea that he isn’t as annoyed as he’s pretending to be – which is true but still beside the point as the butcher relaxes.

The glamour is drawn up and they look as normal and boring as can be, humming a note. “Thank Dygra.” The butcher drawls at the mention of it being in time for this birthday. And he watches as he folds the pants and feathers his fingers through his golden hair, and as he makes his approach to join him in the den does the butcher start to move – greedily and gladly drawing him in up against him.

Immediately wrapping his arms around him to tangle himself up with him, the butcher dives in and presses a chaste kiss to his lips then descends down to his neck and his shoulder, nuzzling in. “So much better, darling.” He purrs, shifting them enough that he can rest on his back and have the Maverick drape over him to soak up all the heat still splotching his olive skin.

Astaroth

// From the land to the sea, he'll take all that he needs //