lord help anyone who stands in my way; for I am not merciful, and i am not kind
and i am not afraid to make you wish that i was
and i am not afraid to make you wish that i was
As the Theocrat’s head tilts into his hand that still rakes through blonde hair, the butcher takes the moment to run his nose and lips along the Maverick’s exposed neck — still just as tender and gentle, he’s distracted immediately by the way his hand suddenly can sink into Danta’s hair further, no spiked horns of diamond to prevent his fingertips from plunging into the blonde. Asta very nearly comments on it, lips parting in order to do so when Danta claims his kiss and the subsequent slice of his tongue against his even sharper canine.
Now it’s the butcher that lets a stuttery sound escape him, pouring the sound into Danta’s mouth as he presses into the kiss. His hand tightens in the blonde, his fingertips stroking along spaces where horns would typically prevent. The butcher keeps his own on full display, tail curling to wind around Danta’s leg to hook it around him, pressed against the other man’s chest with how tight the other Ancient winds his arms around him. It leaves little space, keeping them pressed together in such a way that Danta would be able to feel the heat that swells deep in Asta’s gut, flaring across his cheeks and in patchy hues along his neck and shoulders.
With their minds set and the butcher diving into the kiss long enough to chase the taste of iron, his own tongue promising all kinds of ways he’d worship him, his cock starts to fill out between them as he manages to smoothly roll his hips against Danta’s as if to prove to him just how much he does want him. He breaks the kiss when he desperately needs to breathe, twisting just enough to keep one hand in Danta’s hair while the other spreads along his chest, ghosting light touches against his collarbone, down over a nipple, before he continues to trail down toward his navel, the movement slow and reverent as opposed to the heated times of before.
Now it’s the butcher that lets a stuttery sound escape him, pouring the sound into Danta’s mouth as he presses into the kiss. His hand tightens in the blonde, his fingertips stroking along spaces where horns would typically prevent. The butcher keeps his own on full display, tail curling to wind around Danta’s leg to hook it around him, pressed against the other man’s chest with how tight the other Ancient winds his arms around him. It leaves little space, keeping them pressed together in such a way that Danta would be able to feel the heat that swells deep in Asta’s gut, flaring across his cheeks and in patchy hues along his neck and shoulders.
With their minds set and the butcher diving into the kiss long enough to chase the taste of iron, his own tongue promising all kinds of ways he’d worship him, his cock starts to fill out between them as he manages to smoothly roll his hips against Danta’s as if to prove to him just how much he does want him. He breaks the kiss when he desperately needs to breathe, twisting just enough to keep one hand in Danta’s hair while the other spreads along his chest, ghosting light touches against his collarbone, down over a nipple, before he continues to trail down toward his navel, the movement slow and reverent as opposed to the heated times of before.
Astaroth
say your prayers now
