// standing, stomping in the damage and the ruins of a slip of tongue //
“Because it wasn’t you, my dear.” He says with a breathy and bratty remark, grinning despite himself to try and explain. “A spar.” He manages to get out in between the wonderful work that Danta does, sparking such a brilliant sensation through him as the butcher flushes and gasps for a breath, sharp teeth biting down on his lower lip as he pants through his nose before figuring out the rest of what he’s trying to say. “A newish Ancient I met in Torchline.” That’s as much of an explanation as he can offer, swallowing down anything else with the groans that pull from his throat.
Alas, Danta tortures him, and his hips roll a little as if chasing the sensation of the wonderful and despicable things the Maverick’s mouth had done, before he settles a bit and his tail pats against Danta’s back as if asking what the problem was. But he blinks up at Danta, all flushed and nearly torn apart, seeing the silhouette of the light swarming Danta’s skin and the rainbow hues that reflect from his horns in a pattern against his skin, and it’s nearly angelic compared to his previous monstrous appearance that it feels almost like a perfect yin and yang.
And then Danta’s reaching into the drawer and Asta rumbles a little laugh, adjusting to help Danta wherever needed, allowing a playful suspicion to slip into his gaze. Skepticism, perhaps, as he runs his hands along Danta’s stomach and sides and chest, cocking his horned head which catches on one of the pillows with a small tear, feathers spilling out into his sleep tousled dark hair. “They have not.” He purrs, shifting his legs a little to better accommodate the other man. “But I look forward to the real experience. I imagine it’s better than any potential dreams.” A subtle way to say get on with it, despite his crooked sharp grin, and despite the way his cock throbs hard, as if in anticipation.
Alas, Danta tortures him, and his hips roll a little as if chasing the sensation of the wonderful and despicable things the Maverick’s mouth had done, before he settles a bit and his tail pats against Danta’s back as if asking what the problem was. But he blinks up at Danta, all flushed and nearly torn apart, seeing the silhouette of the light swarming Danta’s skin and the rainbow hues that reflect from his horns in a pattern against his skin, and it’s nearly angelic compared to his previous monstrous appearance that it feels almost like a perfect yin and yang.
And then Danta’s reaching into the drawer and Asta rumbles a little laugh, adjusting to help Danta wherever needed, allowing a playful suspicion to slip into his gaze. Skepticism, perhaps, as he runs his hands along Danta’s stomach and sides and chest, cocking his horned head which catches on one of the pillows with a small tear, feathers spilling out into his sleep tousled dark hair. “They have not.” He purrs, shifting his legs a little to better accommodate the other man. “But I look forward to the real experience. I imagine it’s better than any potential dreams.” A subtle way to say get on with it, despite his crooked sharp grin, and despite the way his cock throbs hard, as if in anticipation.
Astaroth
// with tragic consequences, i think that we've all made our gravest mistakes //
