// as long as there's bread and as long as there's an appetite //
It’s a beautiful thought, isn’t it Danta? The beating thrum of one’s pulse right beneath lips so primed and ready to take a bite. Instead, a mark is left, one that has the butchers low thrum of a sound vibrating against the lips that have caused the mark. His breath hitches, body tensing and tightening like a coil slowly being wound.
The steady pace warms him up to being in this position, spurs the thrill that heats up his spine and before he knows it he’s losing himself a touch in how he aims to press back with a touch more speed; a silent way to say I’m not broken, before another curse escapes his lips to feel his task taken over by his lover’s hand. He braces the other against the door, a quiet groaning sound as his weight is pressed against it and the thrusts cause it to thud dully in its hinges, drowned out by the bustle of the kitchen.
It’s thrilling, to say the least, and despite how much he wishes to hang his head to pant his breaths he knows he’ll scratch the door with his horns if he does. So he tilts it back, stubbornly, dark hair trailing against his scarred back. “What would.. gods— what would you do, darling?” He asks, trying to temper his voice down as he bites back the moans that leave him, his cock throbbing in Danta’s hand.
The steady pace warms him up to being in this position, spurs the thrill that heats up his spine and before he knows it he’s losing himself a touch in how he aims to press back with a touch more speed; a silent way to say I’m not broken, before another curse escapes his lips to feel his task taken over by his lover’s hand. He braces the other against the door, a quiet groaning sound as his weight is pressed against it and the thrusts cause it to thud dully in its hinges, drowned out by the bustle of the kitchen.
It’s thrilling, to say the least, and despite how much he wishes to hang his head to pant his breaths he knows he’ll scratch the door with his horns if he does. So he tilts it back, stubbornly, dark hair trailing against his scarred back. “What would.. gods— what would you do, darling?” He asks, trying to temper his voice down as he bites back the moans that leave him, his cock throbbing in Danta’s hand.
Astaroth
// as long as everyone you need is stepping in line, you are camouflaged //
