Dantalion
how the fuck am I supposed to know
Dygra help him, because the sight of Asta complying with his wishes without so much as a teasing look is enough all on its own to have a plume of dark heat unfurling in his belly. Huffing out a shuddering breath and running his hands through his fair hair as if to ground himself, Danta glances back up in time to catch the coy look over the butcher's shoulder, the purring demand for him, and he all but groans as the very last of his self-control crumbles to nothing.
A soft shift of fabric heralds the drop of his shirt onto a nearby crate, the Maverick ghosting up behind Asta and using warm, sure fingers to mimic the movement on the other man. It isn't just because he wants - needs - to have his hands all over his bare skin; the lick of flame dancing up the length of Asta's back proves that their clothes would also likely become a fire hazard if not.
"Just say the word and I'll stop," he murmurs; he's not oblivious to the privilege of this role reversal, especially when considering the Maverick's own dark impulses and sudden flares of brutality when handed the reins. But Asta trusts him, and Danta trusts himself now as well, and his touch, when it comes, is surprisingly gentle against the butcher's skin.
Leaning in, he presses a soft kiss to the back of his neck, mouth hot with need, his hands grazing down scarred shoulders and across his torso to his hips, where he unbuckles belt and buttons and provides some relief against the pressure tenting the front of Asta's pants. "Touch yourself," he invites in a whisper, raising a brow as someone drops something out in the kitchen beyond the door, allowing himself an amused smile.
A soft shift of fabric heralds the drop of his shirt onto a nearby crate, the Maverick ghosting up behind Asta and using warm, sure fingers to mimic the movement on the other man. It isn't just because he wants - needs - to have his hands all over his bare skin; the lick of flame dancing up the length of Asta's back proves that their clothes would also likely become a fire hazard if not.
"Just say the word and I'll stop," he murmurs; he's not oblivious to the privilege of this role reversal, especially when considering the Maverick's own dark impulses and sudden flares of brutality when handed the reins. But Asta trusts him, and Danta trusts himself now as well, and his touch, when it comes, is surprisingly gentle against the butcher's skin.
Leaning in, he presses a soft kiss to the back of his neck, mouth hot with need, his hands grazing down scarred shoulders and across his torso to his hips, where he unbuckles belt and buttons and provides some relief against the pressure tenting the front of Asta's pants. "Touch yourself," he invites in a whisper, raising a brow as someone drops something out in the kitchen beyond the door, allowing himself an amused smile.
if we're in love or if we're in pain?
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
