we thieves and lovers will keep up our urges to sin, to sin
let your desire be simply acquired within, within
let your desire be simply acquired within, within
Danta’s moan is like music to his ears, sparking more of the flush across his body and the goosebumps that rise in their wake. Especially as he seems to stubbornly make it difficult for Danta to unbutton his shirt — but he manages, and when they part, the butcher peers up with a lust dark gaze, beaming that too sharp smile up at his lover before his shirt is tugged off and tossed somewhere and the butcher’s hands move from the leather pants to offer some relief to the tightness of them to take full advantage of the curve and juts of his hip bones, curving up to press against his ribs.
“You do.” He confirms, taking a moment to loosen the shirt he wears even further, the waistcoat unbuttoned in the span of a few seconds, baring his chest and scars up to Danta’s attention. “Ooh, well who am I to deny such a wonderful time?” He purrs, arching into each touch as his hands return to Danta again, dragging long fingers along his shoulders and plunging them into the long strands of blond and brushing against the buzzed portions of his lover's hair.
He doesn’t even care if he knicks himself on the sharp edges of Danta’s horns, so focused is he on giving and receiving the touch as he tilts his horned head back, very willingly baring his throat to the Maverick. “It is your birthday, though..” He trails off, voice dripping saccharine sweetly, pushing aside his usual demanding nature in order to hand the reins to Danta.
“You do.” He confirms, taking a moment to loosen the shirt he wears even further, the waistcoat unbuttoned in the span of a few seconds, baring his chest and scars up to Danta’s attention. “Ooh, well who am I to deny such a wonderful time?” He purrs, arching into each touch as his hands return to Danta again, dragging long fingers along his shoulders and plunging them into the long strands of blond and brushing against the buzzed portions of his lover's hair.
He doesn’t even care if he knicks himself on the sharp edges of Danta’s horns, so focused is he on giving and receiving the touch as he tilts his horned head back, very willingly baring his throat to the Maverick. “It is your birthday, though..” He trails off, voice dripping saccharine sweetly, pushing aside his usual demanding nature in order to hand the reins to Danta.
Astaroth
if you want me all to yourself, then take on the leap
