meet me in the middle

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

It is work, though it's the sort of work Danta is pleased to say (and moan, and beg) that Flora takes to remarkably quickly, and as her pace grows harder and faster with her growing confidence, he's there to praise her at each and every thrust. "Just like that," he groans, his fingers biting into the headboard before he suddenly finds his hands drawn away.

Inhaling sharply - a mixture of surprise and pleasure, as it happens - to feel his arms pinned behind his back and his body used for Flora to properly fuck against, while the Maverick is as relaxed and flexible as he'd assured her he would be, there's a note of almost frustrated bliss in his expression as he flicks his gaze up to meet her own in the mirror. "If only I had more hands--" he breathes, before her hips snap into him again and the words taper off into a needy moan.

Swearing under his breath and letting his head hang forward, Danta is happy to be used and fucked for as long as Flora wishes, but of course he knows she's not getting nearly the same pleasure out of it as Asta someone else would. As such, it's with the memory of what she likes echoing in his mind that he hisses out a curse and glances back up. "Please, Flora," he moans, fingers flexing in her grip, as if begging her to let him touch himself.

Dantalion

// get them drunk on rose water //