// as long as there's bread and as long as there's an appetite //
Forced to look up at him as he sits, Astaroth’s lips quirk into a sharp smirk, watching as his question is answered. “Ah, so it’s for my benefit.” He hums, fully believing it as his hands smooth along Danta’s hips over the tight leather pants, drifting slowly even as his dark gaze brightens with the reflection of the flame and the anticipation of the Maverick’s hands smoothing over his shoulders.
His chin is tilted up more, greedily pleased to have the kiss that greets him, pressing up into it with a soft sigh of relief, especially as Danta’s fingertips dip to start unbuttoning his shirt. He dives into the kiss a bit deeper, briefly as Danta starts to lower, and his hands slip up against the Maverick’s sides, drawing that gilded shirt up, bunching around his shoulders.
The butcher takes a deep breath when they part, dark eyes aglow in a hue of honey in the reflected firelight, leaning back slightly to give more room for him to unbuckle his pants while promptly removing Danta’s shirt in the process, his own shirt opening enough for him to shrug out of it and reveal all the scars still dark and deep, shadows casted from the dancing firelight. Asta’s legs spread a bit, as if offering more room to work with while one hand lifts to Danta’s blonde locks, thumb brushing along diamond hued, spiky horns. “Let’s see what you’ve planned, then.” He purrs.
His chin is tilted up more, greedily pleased to have the kiss that greets him, pressing up into it with a soft sigh of relief, especially as Danta’s fingertips dip to start unbuttoning his shirt. He dives into the kiss a bit deeper, briefly as Danta starts to lower, and his hands slip up against the Maverick’s sides, drawing that gilded shirt up, bunching around his shoulders.
The butcher takes a deep breath when they part, dark eyes aglow in a hue of honey in the reflected firelight, leaning back slightly to give more room for him to unbuckle his pants while promptly removing Danta’s shirt in the process, his own shirt opening enough for him to shrug out of it and reveal all the scars still dark and deep, shadows casted from the dancing firelight. Asta’s legs spread a bit, as if offering more room to work with while one hand lifts to Danta’s blonde locks, thumb brushing along diamond hued, spiky horns. “Let’s see what you’ve planned, then.” He purrs.
Astaroth
// as long as everyone you need is stepping in line, you are camouflaged //
