I told you, you were brave

// too many war wounds and not enough wars //

Humming his approval into Asta's mouth, Danta's hips shift to anchor him further against the other man, a leg locking around his waist, a gasp breaking from him to feel calloused fingers smooth decadently through his hair. And there's something that feels right about the butcher keeping himself wholly Ancient, from the spaded tail wrapped tightly around his calf to the sharp points of fire obsidian he knows are more than capable of tearing flesh and fabric. 

"You always taste so good." Breaking their kiss to snatch in a breath or two of his own, Danta's moan is comparatively quiet at the way Asta's hips roll against him, though he's well able to feel the hard press of the other man's cock between them. The Maverick's body has long been responding in kind, such that as Asta's clever hand blazes a trail down his torso, he's heedless to stop the way he arches greedily into the touch.

Quietly frustrated that the butcher is still wearing his pants, though Danta doesn't try to interrupt him, the hand smoothing down the length of his back does grab his ass somewhat mischievously, as if to remind Asta not to neglect such a thing.

Dantalion

// too few rounds in the ring and not enough settled scores //