the evidence is on my body
but I never complain
but I never complain
Oh, the things Asta would be able to get away with when he gets his illusion magic back, and the shadow play and adjustment to his horns will be all that much more menacing and perfect. Ah, but they settle for this, and this is obviously good enough based off of the other Ancient’s whisper, sharpening the butcher’s grin all that much more.
Danta does manage to stroke his hand down the scarred rough patch of his chest and around his hip to his tail, which winds around to curl around the Maverick’s arm, the flat portion of the spaded tip pressing up into the crevice of the blonde’s elbow. “Like what? Like you need to understand that there are consequences for your actions?” He purrs, keeping that dark mischief in his voice and his eyes.
He shifts a little, withdrawing onto his knees to shed Danta of the rest of his clothes before his hand returns to him, trailing up to cradle the side of the blonde’s neck, thumb pressing up against the underside of his sharp jaw, his other hand winding around his lover’s thigh, fingertips pressing in red marks. He peers down at him as if debating just what kind of “punishment” would suit best, having bitten his lip in the process and content to let the crimson drip down his jaw and onto the Maverick’s chest, prolonging the moment out so he can figure out just how he wants to do this, giving Danta a moment to relish in it before he intends to actually make his move.
Danta does manage to stroke his hand down the scarred rough patch of his chest and around his hip to his tail, which winds around to curl around the Maverick’s arm, the flat portion of the spaded tip pressing up into the crevice of the blonde’s elbow. “Like what? Like you need to understand that there are consequences for your actions?” He purrs, keeping that dark mischief in his voice and his eyes.
He shifts a little, withdrawing onto his knees to shed Danta of the rest of his clothes before his hand returns to him, trailing up to cradle the side of the blonde’s neck, thumb pressing up against the underside of his sharp jaw, his other hand winding around his lover’s thigh, fingertips pressing in red marks. He peers down at him as if debating just what kind of “punishment” would suit best, having bitten his lip in the process and content to let the crimson drip down his jaw and onto the Maverick’s chest, prolonging the moment out so he can figure out just how he wants to do this, giving Danta a moment to relish in it before he intends to actually make his move.
Astaroth
i wear it as a lesson, a curse, and a blessing
