// make me bleed if you need to confirm that it's something i can do //
Her fingernails scrape against his skin, harder this time, emitting a low rumble from the butcher’s throat to the pale pink lines left behind against his skin. Her head falls back against his shoulder and he refocuses on holding her as the waves of pleasure reach a cresting point. Asta leans back ever so slightly to allocate for the arch of her back, his hand at her neck and cheek dropping to get a better hold of her as he feels her tension break, as he feels her vibrating against him.
The tremble is there, but as she recovers Asta’s hold loosens a touch. Hands smoothing down along her stomach as Danta rises, a breathy groan passing his lips as her hips press back against his. Her hand cups the side of his face and he nestles into it, dark eyes hungry as he takes in the Maverick. A soft kiss is pressed to Flora’s palm as he answers. “You will have to show me.” He purrs playfully in return to Danta, finding himself perfectly content in being trapped in between Flora’s hand and Danta’s kiss.
He dives into the kiss with an almost consuming sense of desire, spurred by the iron taste he shares and the taste of Flora on his lover’s tongue — such that when he parts, he’s careful to keep her steady between them, but enough that he has room to finally start unbuttoning his waistcoat and then to his own tented pants. “At your mercy, Flora darling.” He purrs near her ear, teeth clicking quietly.
The tremble is there, but as she recovers Asta’s hold loosens a touch. Hands smoothing down along her stomach as Danta rises, a breathy groan passing his lips as her hips press back against his. Her hand cups the side of his face and he nestles into it, dark eyes hungry as he takes in the Maverick. A soft kiss is pressed to Flora’s palm as he answers. “You will have to show me.” He purrs playfully in return to Danta, finding himself perfectly content in being trapped in between Flora’s hand and Danta’s kiss.
He dives into the kiss with an almost consuming sense of desire, spurred by the iron taste he shares and the taste of Flora on his lover’s tongue — such that when he parts, he’s careful to keep her steady between them, but enough that he has room to finally start unbuttoning his waistcoat and then to his own tented pants. “At your mercy, Flora darling.” He purrs near her ear, teeth clicking quietly.
Astaroth
// and i'll paint it red //
