// standing, stomping in the damage and the ruins of a slip of tongue //
What can he say, he likes giving gifts. And as far as he knows, everyone enjoys receiving them. Who’s going to say no?
The Maverick’s shirt is slipped off, safe from the fire that blooms along shoulder blades and pale skin, washing away the pale blue with flickers of warmth and orange and heat. His lips remain at Danta’s ear, a lick of fire curling up against his ear and the butcher’s lips with the huff of laughter. “I can be good.” Vowing quietly, Asta knows it’s a bold lie.
He knows the second he breaks skin that he’ll be like a shark in the water, chasing the scent of blood.
He already starts to chase the moan that leaves him, pressing into the kiss with a fiery need. His shirt and waistcoat are unbuttoned, pushed back enough to reveal scarred skin beneath. Teeth nip at the butcher’s lower lip, sending shivers down his spine and his tail coiling tighter around Danta’s leg.
A whine escapes his lips, hands growing more possessive in how they envelop Danta’s hips and lower back, guiding the stream of fire up his spine and around his neck. “Yes.” He says it quietly, like if he were to say it too loud someone might hear.
He doesn’t trust easily, but Danta? The one person and place he feels the safest? He trusts him with his whole being.
The Maverick’s shirt is slipped off, safe from the fire that blooms along shoulder blades and pale skin, washing away the pale blue with flickers of warmth and orange and heat. His lips remain at Danta’s ear, a lick of fire curling up against his ear and the butcher’s lips with the huff of laughter. “I can be good.” Vowing quietly, Asta knows it’s a bold lie.
He knows the second he breaks skin that he’ll be like a shark in the water, chasing the scent of blood.
He already starts to chase the moan that leaves him, pressing into the kiss with a fiery need. His shirt and waistcoat are unbuttoned, pushed back enough to reveal scarred skin beneath. Teeth nip at the butcher’s lower lip, sending shivers down his spine and his tail coiling tighter around Danta’s leg.
A whine escapes his lips, hands growing more possessive in how they envelop Danta’s hips and lower back, guiding the stream of fire up his spine and around his neck. “Yes.” He says it quietly, like if he were to say it too loud someone might hear.
He doesn’t trust easily, but Danta? The one person and place he feels the safest? He trusts him with his whole being.
Astaroth
// with tragic consequences, i think that we've all made our gravest mistakes //
