// standing, stomping in the damage and the ruins of a slip of tongue //
If he had half a mind to speak, he’d agree with Danta on that sentiment. But words fail him as he gasps, shivering in delight, each option he has to apply pressure is second nature, as if Danta might slip away if he doesn’t try and keep as tight of a hold.
He’s jostled with a groan as the Maverick grabs onto the leather belt, his hips stuttering just enough in the pace to feel Danta hover above him. Warmth spreads along his chest, body tingling in white static from his heels up his legs, his arms numb from how tight he’d pressed against the bindings. Eyes blink open, heavily lidded to see the blonde above him, bathed in pale moonlight, glinting and reflecting from diamond horns in cool hues of rainbows that spark against the canopy. He looks ethereal, like a god rising and falling above him with each snap of his hips.
All thoughts of poetics vanish the second the blood drips from his lips — paired with the blood dripping down his arm. Twisting just enough to try and let it fall onto his face, the butcher’s body twitches hard. Growls and groans escape him, a touch of primal fierceness in how the tension blooms and breaks with another buck of his hips, thrusting deeply into the Maverick as every bit of his resolve crumbles. Curses, mixed with Danta’s name (both the nickname and the full length of it) drip from his lips as he cums, rocking through the waves of pleasure as his shadows waver with the release of his climax, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath.
He’s jostled with a groan as the Maverick grabs onto the leather belt, his hips stuttering just enough in the pace to feel Danta hover above him. Warmth spreads along his chest, body tingling in white static from his heels up his legs, his arms numb from how tight he’d pressed against the bindings. Eyes blink open, heavily lidded to see the blonde above him, bathed in pale moonlight, glinting and reflecting from diamond horns in cool hues of rainbows that spark against the canopy. He looks ethereal, like a god rising and falling above him with each snap of his hips.
All thoughts of poetics vanish the second the blood drips from his lips — paired with the blood dripping down his arm. Twisting just enough to try and let it fall onto his face, the butcher’s body twitches hard. Growls and groans escape him, a touch of primal fierceness in how the tension blooms and breaks with another buck of his hips, thrusting deeply into the Maverick as every bit of his resolve crumbles. Curses, mixed with Danta’s name (both the nickname and the full length of it) drip from his lips as he cums, rocking through the waves of pleasure as his shadows waver with the release of his climax, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath.
Astaroth
// with tragic consequences, i think that we've all made our gravest mistakes //
