a romantic, candelit dinner would be incomplete
As the tension bleeds away in the heat, Asta manages to break through his frustration previously and rumble a little laugh that’s half muffled by his pillow. “Shall we have a code word?” He asks, though the air is replaced with amusement over the prospect. He’ll commit if Danta picks the word.
He does manage a sharp toothed grin that either says Danta’s right or not right as the Maverick strips down and crawls under the blankets, and despite the gentleness of the question, Asta grunts slightly as he’s maneuvered around in a position best benefitting the Maverick’s comfort. “It hurts.” He says like it either does matter or doesn’t, depends on how deep into it Danta looks. “How’s yours?” Matching wounds. He wonders if they’ll scar.
He does manage a sharp toothed grin that either says Danta’s right or not right as the Maverick strips down and crawls under the blankets, and despite the gentleness of the question, Asta grunts slightly as he’s maneuvered around in a position best benefitting the Maverick’s comfort. “It hurts.” He says like it either does matter or doesn’t, depends on how deep into it Danta looks. “How’s yours?” Matching wounds. He wonders if they’ll scar.
Astaroth
without all this blood /////
