// there's shadows on the walls //
Having been expecting a lot more in terms of Asta's fight against his restraints (and that says more about you than it does him, Danta babe), the Maverick's hand has been splayed out over the other man's chest and collarbones in preparation to have to physically keep him down. Still, he holds himself motionless over the butcher, his bloody lips made black and glistening in the moonlight, until he feels as though he's not immediately in danger.
Or more accurately, when Asta's hips roll up and against him, dragging a soft and surprised moan from his throat. "If by indulge you mean fuck you, I'd be all too pleased to comply," he growls back, grinding against him and inhaling a stuttering breath as he's forced to move, if for no other reason than so he can shed them of the rest of their clothes.
He both does and doesn't intend to tease, knowing better than to tempt Asta to the point of breaking a wrist to free himself from the leather, but the urge to paint the other man's body with crimson kisses is almost too much to resist. Still, he manages to keep himself mostly on track, stepping out of his pants and unbuttoning the butcher's to tease them down around his hips, taking a minute to tug them off with his shoes before he's free to simply admire him for a moment.
Gods, look at you, he might have said, or some other trite compliment, but those aren't the sorts of men they are - not drunk as all hell and high on the moment, anyway. So instead Danta risks himself enough to stretch himself over Asta, kissing a pathway down his torso and between his hips, his destination very clear.
Or more accurately, when Asta's hips roll up and against him, dragging a soft and surprised moan from his throat. "If by indulge you mean fuck you, I'd be all too pleased to comply," he growls back, grinding against him and inhaling a stuttering breath as he's forced to move, if for no other reason than so he can shed them of the rest of their clothes.
He both does and doesn't intend to tease, knowing better than to tempt Asta to the point of breaking a wrist to free himself from the leather, but the urge to paint the other man's body with crimson kisses is almost too much to resist. Still, he manages to keep himself mostly on track, stepping out of his pants and unbuttoning the butcher's to tease them down around his hips, taking a minute to tug them off with his shoes before he's free to simply admire him for a moment.
Gods, look at you, he might have said, or some other trite compliment, but those aren't the sorts of men they are - not drunk as all hell and high on the moment, anyway. So instead Danta risks himself enough to stretch himself over Asta, kissing a pathway down his torso and between his hips, his destination very clear.
Dantalion
// of moments far too troubling to recall //
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
