i've always liked to play with fire

Astaroth

// i ride the edge, my speed goes in the red //

She watches as his hands move along the blonde’s skin, as he meets that blue gaze that seems almost more confused with the raise of his brow and the words the butcher airs. It isn’t until the back of the Maverick’s hand is pressed against his forehead that Astaroth understands, and it immediately sparks the rolling of his eyes, even if that sharp toothed smirk twists a bit more vibrant. “Not quite, darling.” He admits, puffing out a breath that could be akin to an exasperated sigh.

Dark eyes blink back to meet the blue’s as Asta’s hands continue their little soft plunge into the golden strands of hair and his thumb brushes along the hard edge of the other man’s jaw, content with however the night goes and simply glad to be home. He feels as Danta’s thumb swipes along his lips but his gaze remains on the Maverick regardless, lips parting to speak, however briefly. “I read quite often, Dantalion.” It’s said in a somewhat amused and bland tone, but there’s mischief in his dark eyes as his fingertips curl to tighten in the blonde locks and he leans in to nip lightly at Danta’s finger on his lip, dragging it further into his mouth with too sharp teeth, careful to not draw blood, but checks with the swipe of his tongue just in case.

// hot blood, these veins, my pleasure is their pain //