// once you're in my shining cathedral, heed the tolling bell //
It’s a calculating series of thoughts that the butcher indulges in as he specifically does not choose to delve into another kiss, instead focusing his attention on the insides of Danta’s thighs. His dark gaze is hidden by his mostly closed lids, going off of feel much more than sight — at least until he feels the threading of fingertips through his hair, avoiding the fire obsidian tines that poke out right at him.
It’s the question that as him fully opening his gaze, dark and void of light as he peers up at his lover, lips quirking in the twist of his traditional sharp smile. “Not in the slightest.” There were times where he loved to indulge Danta right away, but there were other times where he preferred to tease and taunt until the Maverick’s mind was little more than crossed wires, sparking and twitching with each new spark.
This time seems to be the latter as he lowers himself again, dark eyes focused wholly on Danta’s molten blue gaze, rising up and up his thighs until it seems as though he’s about to capitalize on indulging him. He wets his lips, hands shifting, knuckles brushing against the length of his lover’s cock, before in a swift movement he shifts his attention, nipping at the inside of Danta’s thigh surprisingly gently and cautious, but still sharp enough to draw a bead of blood. It’s a simultaneous movement that has his opposite hand wrapping around his length in a languid stroke.
It’s the question that as him fully opening his gaze, dark and void of light as he peers up at his lover, lips quirking in the twist of his traditional sharp smile. “Not in the slightest.” There were times where he loved to indulge Danta right away, but there were other times where he preferred to tease and taunt until the Maverick’s mind was little more than crossed wires, sparking and twitching with each new spark.
This time seems to be the latter as he lowers himself again, dark eyes focused wholly on Danta’s molten blue gaze, rising up and up his thighs until it seems as though he’s about to capitalize on indulging him. He wets his lips, hands shifting, knuckles brushing against the length of his lover’s cock, before in a swift movement he shifts his attention, nipping at the inside of Danta’s thigh surprisingly gently and cautious, but still sharp enough to draw a bead of blood. It’s a simultaneous movement that has his opposite hand wrapping around his length in a languid stroke.
Astaroth
// it's the final sound you hear as you descend to hell //
