Astaroth
// i ride the edge, my speed goes in the red //
“Loud and clear, darling.” Astaroth purrs as he maneuvers the other man, shifting and adjusting them in gentle touches that he knows drives Danta insane. (He’s seen him with people in the rest of the Dusklight, he knows the speed of which Danta wishes to go, but Asta’s more meticulous.) As such, it allows him the time to enact his plan.
A mark of claim felt any time Danta will sit, paired with the sudden and quick shift into gripping his hips and sinking into him. Bruising fingers lay more of a claim, a hidden smirk as Danta’s confusion flares and turns immediately into a moan. The way his back arches offers up a brilliant view for the butcher as he picks his pace, a punishing one at first that allows him to keep adding more and more bruises along his skin.
Hands move so that one can hook into the anchor point Danta offers, hips snapping into the other man’s at a meticulous pace before he starts to slow, as if savoring the moment while his free hand splays against Danta’s spine at his lower back, pressing down and sliding across his skin to his shoulders, before his fingertips grab and tug at rogue, sleep tousled hair. “What was that, my dear? I didn’t hear you.” Comes the cocky purr, broken up by a hoarse and throaty hum.
A mark of claim felt any time Danta will sit, paired with the sudden and quick shift into gripping his hips and sinking into him. Bruising fingers lay more of a claim, a hidden smirk as Danta’s confusion flares and turns immediately into a moan. The way his back arches offers up a brilliant view for the butcher as he picks his pace, a punishing one at first that allows him to keep adding more and more bruises along his skin.
Hands move so that one can hook into the anchor point Danta offers, hips snapping into the other man’s at a meticulous pace before he starts to slow, as if savoring the moment while his free hand splays against Danta’s spine at his lower back, pressing down and sliding across his skin to his shoulders, before his fingertips grab and tug at rogue, sleep tousled hair. “What was that, my dear? I didn’t hear you.” Comes the cocky purr, broken up by a hoarse and throaty hum.
// hot blood, these veins, my pleasure is their pain //
