Astaroth
// i ride the edge, my speed goes in the red //
Asta can certainly guarantee that the Maverick’s body will be littered with bruising that perfectly matches the butcher’s hands by the end of the night, especially if he keeps looking the way he does at this precise moment. As it stands, it doesn’t take him very long to slip out of the rest of his clothes, bare aside from old scars and soon to be new ones with the stitching that adorns his arm and collarbone.
Turning his dark gaze back toward Danta once he’s shifted to his stomach, Astaroth snorts in response and exhales a somewhat dramatic exasperated sigh. “Yes, well, it’s still true.” He pauses, biting back a hum of a sound at the press of Danta’s hips. “It’s somewhat different these days.” And he doesn’t know why or how or what changed, but he does know that it has helped immensely with the other aspects of his life. “Perchance I am too fond of interior design that I would feel terrible replacing good pillows, and can simply use you as an excuse to satisfy my conscience?”
But rather than getting sentimental, well, Astaroth’s gaze darkens a fraction as he reaches forward to place both hands on Danta’s hips, hard enough to bruise now, and tugs him toward the edge of the bed to make it easier for him to lavish the Maverick in his attentions. And once he’s satisfied with the placement, one hand moves to trail along the curve of his ass, the other slipping up underneath him to trail down his chest toward his cock, before he simultaneously ghosts his fingers along the other man’s length and teases at his entrance, surprisingly patient in the moment despite how hard his own length is.
Turning his dark gaze back toward Danta once he’s shifted to his stomach, Astaroth snorts in response and exhales a somewhat dramatic exasperated sigh. “Yes, well, it’s still true.” He pauses, biting back a hum of a sound at the press of Danta’s hips. “It’s somewhat different these days.” And he doesn’t know why or how or what changed, but he does know that it has helped immensely with the other aspects of his life. “Perchance I am too fond of interior design that I would feel terrible replacing good pillows, and can simply use you as an excuse to satisfy my conscience?”
But rather than getting sentimental, well, Astaroth’s gaze darkens a fraction as he reaches forward to place both hands on Danta’s hips, hard enough to bruise now, and tugs him toward the edge of the bed to make it easier for him to lavish the Maverick in his attentions. And once he’s satisfied with the placement, one hand moves to trail along the curve of his ass, the other slipping up underneath him to trail down his chest toward his cock, before he simultaneously ghosts his fingers along the other man’s length and teases at his entrance, surprisingly patient in the moment despite how hard his own length is.
// hot blood, these veins, my pleasure is their pain //
