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
It’s a touch ironic, keeping himself wholly Ancient in the face of Danta’s glamour, but it’s comfortable and adds to the requirement of control that the butcher preferred so much. His tail wound around the blonde’s calf, his fingers threading through the available space, pressing gently along parts of his head that otherwise are blocked away. And despite their kiss breaking, there’s the feeling of the smile that tugs on his face to the compliment, pressing his lips to the corner of Danta’s lips as the butcher’s hand makes its trajectory down.
He feels the press of the blonde’s body against his, helpless to keep the rough breathy laugh from leaving him at the insistence of his Theocrat in regards to the pants that still remain, as if he’s forgotten them. Perhaps, though, for the first time the butcher wishes to take his time. “I have not forgotten, darling.” Comes the playful purr – tail coiling to squeeze Danta’s leg gently as the hand continues to move between them.
Ghosting the touch along Danta’s length, it’s a prime position to unbutton his pants the rest of the way, unable to keep the slight hitch of his breath with the relief it offers, before he’s forced to unwind his tail from the Maverick’s leg and forced to gain some distance between them as he sits up a bit – peering down at Danta with dark, lustful eyes, lips reddened by the lingering blood spilled into their kiss. Both hands abandon the other Ancient for the moment if only to give him a show as the butcher slips his pants off, and in prior tradition of Asta's preferences, he teases Danta longer as he folds them before setting them aside, taking his time before he allows himself to return to Danta’s warm comfort, hardly able to keep the amusement from tugging up the corner of his lips.
He feels the press of the blonde’s body against his, helpless to keep the rough breathy laugh from leaving him at the insistence of his Theocrat in regards to the pants that still remain, as if he’s forgotten them. Perhaps, though, for the first time the butcher wishes to take his time. “I have not forgotten, darling.” Comes the playful purr – tail coiling to squeeze Danta’s leg gently as the hand continues to move between them.
Ghosting the touch along Danta’s length, it’s a prime position to unbutton his pants the rest of the way, unable to keep the slight hitch of his breath with the relief it offers, before he’s forced to unwind his tail from the Maverick’s leg and forced to gain some distance between them as he sits up a bit – peering down at Danta with dark, lustful eyes, lips reddened by the lingering blood spilled into their kiss. Both hands abandon the other Ancient for the moment if only to give him a show as the butcher slips his pants off, and in prior tradition of Asta's preferences, he teases Danta longer as he folds them before setting them aside, taking his time before he allows himself to return to Danta’s warm comfort, hardly able to keep the amusement from tugging up the corner of his lips.
Astaroth
say your prayers now
