// standing, stomping in the damage and the ruins of a slip of tongue //
Snorting softly, it’s with an affectionate — if not still sly — crookedness to his grin that the butcher agrees. “Mm, or the rum fountain.” He despairs playfully, drawing silent again so Danta can work. He doesn’t mind the healing process, in all reality. It beat the sensation he’d felt after Safrin had healed him, when every nerve ending within him had been alight with stars and the cold yet warm abyss of space.
At least he doesn’t have a chance to dwell on it as his breath hitches again for the next piercing, eyes shuddering shut for a few long seconds before Danta’s surveying his work and the butcher’s dark gaze focuses back up at him, hands smoothing possessively along the Maverick’s upper arms. “Of course I did.” He pauses, before his rough voice continues. “What do you think, love?” His accent wraps around the question, tilting his head slightly to give the blonde a very Asta look, adorned in all the makeup and jewelry, black tipped hands moving enough to slip into the robe to brush against the Maverick’s shoulders, his thumb stroking over the smooth beat of the other Ancient’s pulse.
At least he doesn’t have a chance to dwell on it as his breath hitches again for the next piercing, eyes shuddering shut for a few long seconds before Danta’s surveying his work and the butcher’s dark gaze focuses back up at him, hands smoothing possessively along the Maverick’s upper arms. “Of course I did.” He pauses, before his rough voice continues. “What do you think, love?” His accent wraps around the question, tilting his head slightly to give the blonde a very Asta look, adorned in all the makeup and jewelry, black tipped hands moving enough to slip into the robe to brush against the Maverick’s shoulders, his thumb stroking over the smooth beat of the other Ancient’s pulse.
Astaroth
// with tragic consequences, i think that we've all made our gravest mistakes //
