Dantalion
but you can't be free
Danta will take the rough, possessive touch of the butcher over anyone else's any day of the week, so perhaps that fateful conversation, when it happens, won't be such a difficult one. (Especially if it comes on the heels of a moment like this). His grip tightens around Asta's shoulders, hips grinding forward, and as calloused fingers tighten in his hair he's forced back from the kiss by the tilt of his head, lips still painted crimson, throat bared and his free hand splayed against the butcher's scarred chest.
"Maybe I was wrong," he whispers, gazing down at Asta through hooded blue eyes. "A little blood and you're anyone's." Not simple, not exactly, but not particularly complicated when you know what works, either.
Flicking out his tongue to lick away the blood still flowing freely from his bottom lip, he raises his eyebrows as if to ask if Asta wants to continue to be creative - his throat is on full display for the butcher, after all - or if he's content with the scarlet splash against his mouth, minor as it might be compared to what they'd achieved in, say, the Temple with the stag.
"Maybe I was wrong," he whispers, gazing down at Asta through hooded blue eyes. "A little blood and you're anyone's." Not simple, not exactly, but not particularly complicated when you know what works, either.
Flicking out his tongue to lick away the blood still flowing freely from his bottom lip, he raises his eyebrows as if to ask if Asta wants to continue to be creative - his throat is on full display for the butcher, after all - or if he's content with the scarlet splash against his mouth, minor as it might be compared to what they'd achieved in, say, the Temple with the stag.
'cause I'm selfish, I'm obscene
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
