Astaroth
// i ride the edge, my speed goes in the red //
“Use you, mm?” Astaroth purrs, content that the Maverick has not asked him to elaborate further on that admission – because it would likely turn into something stupid and sentimental again, and truthfully how many times can the butcher recover from his sudden bout of loose lips? Not too many more times.
Grateful to get Danta to move along with him, Astaroth settles easily behind the other man, hands ghosting and moving along in taunting, tantalizing ways, that’s truthfully a front for him to survey the curve of the other man’s body and come up with a little plan of just how he wanted to fuck him. It’s prolonging it out, of course, but as Danta’s wondering voice reaches him, Astaroth hums out a laugh, because he does know better than to assume Danta wouldn’t beg for whatever he wanted, so long as he got it. “Something tells me that it would not feel like a victory if you did.” He muses, realizing that’s how it often seemed for those that craved to hear them beg. “I prefer to believe you're entirely mine.” At least for this moment, this second, the minutes they share just like this.
Instead, the butcher’s game plan starts to fall into place, the ghosting touch replaced by a sudden withdrawal, leaving the air cold where his hands had been – but only momentarily – because no sooner than Danta can realize he isn’t hovered and pressed against him, Astaroth’s sharp teeth find purchase against the swell of Danta’s ass, leaving a mark that will certainly bruise into a round shape before his hands find both of the blonde’s hips again, pressing into fingerprint bruising just as before, pressing harder as he lines them up without much warning and sinks his cock into the other man with a groan.
Grateful to get Danta to move along with him, Astaroth settles easily behind the other man, hands ghosting and moving along in taunting, tantalizing ways, that’s truthfully a front for him to survey the curve of the other man’s body and come up with a little plan of just how he wanted to fuck him. It’s prolonging it out, of course, but as Danta’s wondering voice reaches him, Astaroth hums out a laugh, because he does know better than to assume Danta wouldn’t beg for whatever he wanted, so long as he got it. “Something tells me that it would not feel like a victory if you did.” He muses, realizing that’s how it often seemed for those that craved to hear them beg. “I prefer to believe you're entirely mine.” At least for this moment, this second, the minutes they share just like this.
Instead, the butcher’s game plan starts to fall into place, the ghosting touch replaced by a sudden withdrawal, leaving the air cold where his hands had been – but only momentarily – because no sooner than Danta can realize he isn’t hovered and pressed against him, Astaroth’s sharp teeth find purchase against the swell of Danta’s ass, leaving a mark that will certainly bruise into a round shape before his hands find both of the blonde’s hips again, pressing into fingerprint bruising just as before, pressing harder as he lines them up without much warning and sinks his cock into the other man with a groan.
// hot blood, these veins, my pleasure is their pain //
