// standing, stomping in the damage and the ruins of a slip of tongue //
Oh it isn’t going to be an easy ride, because while he doesn’t have access to his hands, his legs are free and the rest of his body — despite being lithe and thin — is toned enough to be able to utilize his muscles with surprising ease. Then, there’s the newly realized addition of being able to hands free utilize his shadow, something he hasn’t quite realized just yet in the mixture of pleasure the Maverick brings.
It’s taunting and slow, a tease to start before the slap echoes in the quiet room. He can feel the stutter and pause, his tail flicking idly against the Maverick’s chest still, before the moan rocks a shiver through the butcher’s spine. “Mm?” He asks, blinking as if to try and regain some of his senses rather than the two blinding ones flickering at either side of his vision.
The pace picks up before he can really understand what’s happening, though, and it’s with a moan that breaks from him that he can see the shadow warbling against the Maverick in spaces that it shouldn’t be. It’s one that continues, though, because as the Maverick’s thumb swipes across his lips, iron fills his senses once more, and the shadow cast by his horns start to rise, as if to give an appearance of four prongs rather than just the two.
His hips buck against Danta’s, hands tugging at the bindings again as his tongue swipes out, seeking the pad of the other man’s thumb to encourage it closer — though the both of them know that if the Maverick gives in, he might lose the digit.
It’s taunting and slow, a tease to start before the slap echoes in the quiet room. He can feel the stutter and pause, his tail flicking idly against the Maverick’s chest still, before the moan rocks a shiver through the butcher’s spine. “Mm?” He asks, blinking as if to try and regain some of his senses rather than the two blinding ones flickering at either side of his vision.
The pace picks up before he can really understand what’s happening, though, and it’s with a moan that breaks from him that he can see the shadow warbling against the Maverick in spaces that it shouldn’t be. It’s one that continues, though, because as the Maverick’s thumb swipes across his lips, iron fills his senses once more, and the shadow cast by his horns start to rise, as if to give an appearance of four prongs rather than just the two.
His hips buck against Danta’s, hands tugging at the bindings again as his tongue swipes out, seeking the pad of the other man’s thumb to encourage it closer — though the both of them know that if the Maverick gives in, he might lose the digit.
Astaroth
// with tragic consequences, i think that we've all made our gravest mistakes //
