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
The bratty response to his own cocky one, ears a huff of a breathy laugh to leave the butcher – lips quirking into a sharp and indulgent smile as Danta presses a brief kiss to the curve of his jaw. His head tilts into him as he pants and refrains from muting any of the sounds that leave him, allowing them to reverberate in the snow block house. “Perhaps.. I can, fuck, indulge you more.” He gets out, nipping toward Danta’s face but nowhere near skin to bite into, but the click of his teeth is evident enough.
His hands lower along Danta’s chest, dragging down and down as Danta props above him. The invitation sparks a deeper red hue to burst along his cheeks, the arch of his back and the tilt of his head back enough that the sharp tines of his obsidian horns encase where Danta’s hand has settled but digs into the furs all the same, puncturing them again and again with each perfect thrust of his lover’s hips.
Arched up by the time his hand drops to stroke his cock, he feels like a livewire, sucking in a breath as he presses against Danta enough that his legs slide up and heels dig in, meeting the perfect space between them with each stroke for the tip of his length to press against Danta’s stomach, adding to even more friction as he matches – distractedly, admittedly – the intense and yet slow pace of Danta’s hips, ensuring that each one sends him deeper and deeper and perfectly aligns with the pressure he’s manufactured to be both himself and Danta against his cock. “Fuck, Danta.” Comes the quieter moan, breathless as if he can’t capture his breath quite enough, but it's clear he doesn't mind, not as each passing second sparks more and more lightning through his veins. "More." Comes the half request, half demand.
His hands lower along Danta’s chest, dragging down and down as Danta props above him. The invitation sparks a deeper red hue to burst along his cheeks, the arch of his back and the tilt of his head back enough that the sharp tines of his obsidian horns encase where Danta’s hand has settled but digs into the furs all the same, puncturing them again and again with each perfect thrust of his lover’s hips.
Arched up by the time his hand drops to stroke his cock, he feels like a livewire, sucking in a breath as he presses against Danta enough that his legs slide up and heels dig in, meeting the perfect space between them with each stroke for the tip of his length to press against Danta’s stomach, adding to even more friction as he matches – distractedly, admittedly – the intense and yet slow pace of Danta’s hips, ensuring that each one sends him deeper and deeper and perfectly aligns with the pressure he’s manufactured to be both himself and Danta against his cock. “Fuck, Danta.” Comes the quieter moan, breathless as if he can’t capture his breath quite enough, but it's clear he doesn't mind, not as each passing second sparks more and more lightning through his veins. "More." Comes the half request, half demand.
Astaroth
if you want me all to yourself, then take on the leap
