hold me tight or don't

// there's shadows on the walls //

"You and your gifts," Danta scoffs against Asta's shoulder, the Maverick shifting enough to assist the other man in stripping him of his shirt, even as he succeeds in drawing the belt from his waist. He doesn't discard it, though - he feels like he'll need all the help he can get to pin the butcher down. 

"Oh? Then for what it's worth, it was very nice knowing you." He almost wants to laugh despite the real, cold danger of having his throat so close to Asta's teeth right now, but with enough narcotics and alcohol in his system to dull his inhibitions to nothing, not to mention the different high attached to their recent admissions, and fuck it if it's going to happen anyway.

"I want you," he fires back, his breath hitching as fire blooms across his shoulder blades, the hand not holding the belt fumbling with the buttons of his vest and then his shirt, though his lips are more interested in trying to catch Asta's, pressing into the kiss and moaning something feral and needy into his mouth.

"Do you trust me?" he whispers when they part, pushing Asta's shirt over his shoulders and nipping at his lower lip.

Dantalion

// of moments far too troubling to recall //