I told you, you were brave

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

Shivering at the feel of Asta's tail dragging up the length of his back, Danta's lips part again in a soft moan, savouring the grip of the other man's hand against his thigh, the hot breath against his neck, the rumble of his voice. "You have no idea--" he begins, cut off by the way Asta thrusts forward again, deep and slow and filling him completely. Frowning in a way that suggests anything but pain, the Maverick savours the bruise he knows will be left against his pale skin, his hips rolling decadently against the butcher's.

"Gods, just like that," he whispers, the encouragement delivered against a gasp of pleasure. His free hand slips down the length of Asta's spine, pressing against his lower back and the base of his tail as if to somehow get more of him despite there being nothing more to have. Either way, it's with his pulse thundering that he fights not to pick up his pace, to beg to be fucked fast and hard even if he knows they'll both enjoy it.

Dantalion

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