// standing, stomping in the damage and the ruins of a slip of tongue //
His arm will certainly be bruised, but Astaroth is caring little for that potential pain for the bliss that blurs his gaze and has his breath coming in short pants, even more so as the butcher claims the Maverick’s lips in a searing kiss. It’s a full reversal of the night before with Danta bracing himself above the other man, his other hand cradling his jaw. There’s a purpose in the kiss, however brief, but unfortunately (or fortunately?) no tang of iron remains in the butcher’s mouth. Nothing but the taste of their kiss.
He parts, though, and the panting hiss that shifts to a laugh has a deep rumble of one leaving Asta as he tilts his head back. “I’d say fuck me yourself, but..” He doesn’t get to finish the sentence with Danta diving back in, and he gladly presses up into it, until his lungs heave and he withdraws when he feels like he’s seeing stars to trail his lips along Danta’s neck, nosing his way just under the soft space of his jaw to leave a matching mark to the one that is already starting to darken on his own neck. “Gods, you are a marvel.” Comes the hint of sentimentality, before he doesn’t let it take root.
He withdraws a split second later, and peers up at him with a mischievous dark gaze, hands moving to collect some of the feathers and drape them over Danta’s shoulders (because they’re going to stick and be a nightmare and it’s his turn for some chaos in the moment with how subdued and tamed he’s been). And with it he lets another chuckle of a laugh leave him, enough that the movement has spread some of those pale feathers along his own darker bronzed skin.
He parts, though, and the panting hiss that shifts to a laugh has a deep rumble of one leaving Asta as he tilts his head back. “I’d say fuck me yourself, but..” He doesn’t get to finish the sentence with Danta diving back in, and he gladly presses up into it, until his lungs heave and he withdraws when he feels like he’s seeing stars to trail his lips along Danta’s neck, nosing his way just under the soft space of his jaw to leave a matching mark to the one that is already starting to darken on his own neck. “Gods, you are a marvel.” Comes the hint of sentimentality, before he doesn’t let it take root.
He withdraws a split second later, and peers up at him with a mischievous dark gaze, hands moving to collect some of the feathers and drape them over Danta’s shoulders (because they’re going to stick and be a nightmare and it’s his turn for some chaos in the moment with how subdued and tamed he’s been). And with it he lets another chuckle of a laugh leave him, enough that the movement has spread some of those pale feathers along his own darker bronzed skin.
Astaroth
// with tragic consequences, i think that we've all made our gravest mistakes //
