// once you're in my shining cathedral, heed the tolling bell //
He very much knows Danta likes to see him wound up, but hearing it claimed so easily is a comfort he didn’t realize he needed so much as he makes his move. Everything is deliberate, from the way he pins the Maverick down, shifting him just so, lining them up before he’s able to indulge his lover in precise and quick movements, calculating despite the way his attraction and arousal would suggest otherwise.
He stakes his claim with a greedy kiss, drowning everything the Maverick might try to say. His hand moves a quick pace while the butcher leans into the hand in his hair and the way Danta’s leg hooks around him, his breath hitching as he’s tugged closer. It works, though, while the butcher refrains from being as immovable as a statue. The movement itself is rather bratty, but rather than comment on it, the butcher rewards him by giving in – breaking the kiss to trail his lips and panting, warm breaths down against the sharp edge of his jawbone.
Sinking into Danta, it’s with a purred groan of the Maverick’s name against his jeweled ear, a sudden hesitation and pressure applied to his wrists where he’s pinned him before he manages to balance himself to loosen that hold and snap his hips, picking a quick rhythm to mirror that of his hand. “Well? Have I?” The butcher says through his panting breaths, bratty and mischievous in his own right, as if allowing Danta to answer the question now that he’s mostly satisfied.
He stakes his claim with a greedy kiss, drowning everything the Maverick might try to say. His hand moves a quick pace while the butcher leans into the hand in his hair and the way Danta’s leg hooks around him, his breath hitching as he’s tugged closer. It works, though, while the butcher refrains from being as immovable as a statue. The movement itself is rather bratty, but rather than comment on it, the butcher rewards him by giving in – breaking the kiss to trail his lips and panting, warm breaths down against the sharp edge of his jawbone.
Sinking into Danta, it’s with a purred groan of the Maverick’s name against his jeweled ear, a sudden hesitation and pressure applied to his wrists where he’s pinned him before he manages to balance himself to loosen that hold and snap his hips, picking a quick rhythm to mirror that of his hand. “Well? Have I?” The butcher says through his panting breaths, bratty and mischievous in his own right, as if allowing Danta to answer the question now that he’s mostly satisfied.
Astaroth
// it's the final sound you hear as you descend to hell //
