stay your pretty eyes on course

// divide me down to the smallest I can be //

A shower is the last thing on Danta's mind right now, but in the hours to come he'll happily lavish every inch of Asta's skin with suds and perfumed oils and whatever else he desires, for as long as he can stand to be beneath the jets of scalding water. For now though, the seconds drip by like honey, every brush of the other man's lips enough to send goosebumps chasing across the Maverick's flesh, his lungs burning as he tries to catch his breath.

Eventually - and it's not without reluctance or protest from his sore muscles - he pushes against the scorch marks on the table to shift enough to get to his knees, almost instantly slouching back against Asta's chest. His head tips back to rest against his shoulder, fingers greedily reaching back to smooth through the butcher's dark hair and across the sharp tines of his horns. "Gods," he whispers, a shaky smile in the words, Danta closing his eyes as if the effort to keep them open is too much.

"When I say no one fucks me like you do, I mean it," he continues, turning his head enough to nose against the side of Asta's neck, treating it to a lazy necklace of kisses. "...I haven't forgotten about the stag I promised you," he adds, grinning. "But I might need a minute."

Dantalion

// put your, put your v-v-venom in me //