you were destined for the glory, the honor and the fame
i was destined for the bullet, to be the gun with no name
i was destined for the bullet, to be the gun with no name
Having never had a time where he’d experienced being a horny teenager, Astaroth has to simply take the Maverick’s words (and actions) as example, and suffice to say he can’t help the smile that continues to try and tug on his face even as he presses into the kiss more, all consuming and devouring attentive.
If Danta asked, he would say that he’s simply been attentive. Despite it seeming like he wasn’t paying attention, he was. He’s security for a brothel, after all, and his eyes drift often over groupings and couplings of people, indulging and paying extra attention to ways to bring the most pleasure. And where his hands had typically drenched themselves in so much blood of pain, perhaps a few things had stuck around to try the opposite.
That, and he has each tangle with Danta to focus on when it comes to figuring out just what he liked, too.
He worships him, in the best way that the butcher knows how that doesn’t involve cleavers. He worships him in a way he thinks the other Ancient deserves. And it’s with panting breaths against Danta’s ear, that the words bloom around him, and he indulges the other man with a faster pace stroked along his cock, a tighter squeeze, thumb pressing against the head. “Is that so, darling?” He purrs, as if debating pulling himself away from the pressure of his kiss to focus his mouth elsewhere if only to free up his hands. “How much more?” He continues the question, centered mentally enough to keep the conversation which is decidedly less easy when he’s also struck with overwhelming lust.
If Danta asked, he would say that he’s simply been attentive. Despite it seeming like he wasn’t paying attention, he was. He’s security for a brothel, after all, and his eyes drift often over groupings and couplings of people, indulging and paying extra attention to ways to bring the most pleasure. And where his hands had typically drenched themselves in so much blood of pain, perhaps a few things had stuck around to try the opposite.
That, and he has each tangle with Danta to focus on when it comes to figuring out just what he liked, too.
He worships him, in the best way that the butcher knows how that doesn’t involve cleavers. He worships him in a way he thinks the other Ancient deserves. And it’s with panting breaths against Danta’s ear, that the words bloom around him, and he indulges the other man with a faster pace stroked along his cock, a tighter squeeze, thumb pressing against the head. “Is that so, darling?” He purrs, as if debating pulling himself away from the pressure of his kiss to focus his mouth elsewhere if only to free up his hands. “How much more?” He continues the question, centered mentally enough to keep the conversation which is decidedly less easy when he’s also struck with overwhelming lust.
Astaroth
fate's been playing the long game on us, sweetheart
