it stings sometimes

// you've got a passion in those eyes //

This isn't their first tumble in the sheets, not by any stretch of the imagination. But there's something about this time that has Danta feeling vaguely untethered, and by the time he comes back to himself, there's nothing but Asta in his field of vision, in his spiralling thoughts, in the immediate press of the rest of the world. Huffing out a shuddering breath at the same time as his fingers gently ease in the other man's dark hair, he's leaning up and pulling the butcher down at the same time, desperate to taste the sweet blood on his lips.

Moaning softly into the kiss and feeling himself continue to relax to the point where he wants nothing more than for Asta to blanket him with his body and be done with it, Danta's fingers are already carefully apologising for the marks he's left in the other man's skin, even if he's not sure whether he's actually sorry about it. He kisses him slowly but with the sort of irreverence reserved for acts of true chaos, and by the time they part their bodies will remain painted by their actions, but their lips will be clean.

Danta almost says something, but he feels like any words might ruin it, and so he settles instead for leaning up to press his lips to Asta's forehead, eyes closing and his hands straying up and through his hair to play against the dark tines of his horns.

Dantalion

// so aim it straight and true //