meet me in the middle

// I thought of angels choking on their halos //

"We're about to find out, aren't we?" Danta grins, bouncing his eyebrows at her in the mirror and adjusting his grip on the headboard. He can only attest to himself - and he's very hard, as Flora has undoubtedly noticed - but then again, he's not the one doing the fucking today.

There might not be a window full of people to watch them (though if that's really what she's into, Danta can absolutely arrange for an audience), but the Maverick's gaze is all for Flora, greedy and appreciative of her clever fingers and abundant curves. "I can only agree," he purrs; even without all that's to come (winkwonk again), he could happily watch her touch herself for as long as she cares to do so.

But then that touch is on him instead, Danta inhaling a shivery breath to feel her hands and fingernails skitter down the length of his back. Her grip against his hip is so different and yet similar to what he's grown used to, the Maverick letting himself relax into it, his knees spreading further on the bed, his back arching ever so slightly. "Ready as I'll ever be," he says, flashing her a catlike smile in the mirror. "Fuck me slow at first, won't you?"

Dantalion

// get them drunk on rose water //