// standing, stomping in the damage and the ruins of a slip of tongue //
The kiss is a slight surprise for an answer, until they part and Asta’s almost chasing after his lips for another when the answer comes. And then, it’s with an almost cocky look, lips smirking and hiding his shark-like teeth as Danta works to clean him up. His hands are gentle as they are careful, running the steaming water along his skin and hair, over his horns and his chest and shoulders, and the entire time his tail winds around the Maverick’s to keep them connected. He’s content to be pampered over — another sign that he’s far more relaxed than he was before, thoughts of gore crows away from his mind.
The dream quickly becomes a bit of a nightmare, though, as the butcher starts to utilize the soap to get the rest of the blood off of him. Sudsing it up and rolling his eyes for the first few times Danta interrupts the attempts, it’s with a dark gaze that’s more readable than it had been most of the night that he looks to the other Ancient with mischief lingering in his eyes.
“You know,” he starts to say, twisting their positions as he reaches for the Maverick, only to press him back against the wall of the shower, dropping soap and water. “If I fall and get a concussion you will have to care for me.” It drips from his lips in a playful threat, one that doesn’t last as his soapy hands spread across the Theocrat’s chest, shortly lifting up and over his shoulders, then down his arms. He leans in to steal a more devouring kiss, utilizing the soap to wash Danta up now that he’s completely clean, if not still covered in soap.
The dream quickly becomes a bit of a nightmare, though, as the butcher starts to utilize the soap to get the rest of the blood off of him. Sudsing it up and rolling his eyes for the first few times Danta interrupts the attempts, it’s with a dark gaze that’s more readable than it had been most of the night that he looks to the other Ancient with mischief lingering in his eyes.
“You know,” he starts to say, twisting their positions as he reaches for the Maverick, only to press him back against the wall of the shower, dropping soap and water. “If I fall and get a concussion you will have to care for me.” It drips from his lips in a playful threat, one that doesn’t last as his soapy hands spread across the Theocrat’s chest, shortly lifting up and over his shoulders, then down his arms. He leans in to steal a more devouring kiss, utilizing the soap to wash Danta up now that he’s completely clean, if not still covered in soap.
Astaroth
// with tragic consequences, i think that we've all made our gravest mistakes //
