// make me bleed if you need to confirm that it's something i can do //
It’s true, for all of the butcher’s original apprehension toward diving in completely, very little of it remains in this moment. He’s learned a lot thanks to Danta and his own person, cravings and desires and ways to alleviate the initial impulse of devouring. There are other ways to satisfy it, things he’s learned after Flora and he had their dalliance.
Flora pulls him in and he’s steady as a pillar as she does, curving into her with a hum of appreciation, even as he hears her demand. His gaze lingers on his lover when he answers, the agreement with the sentiment one that goes unvocalized with the view of Flora tugging Danta in. Fire curls in him at the sight and the moan, deciding little time is to be wasted as he adjusts, one warm hand smoothing along the outside of her thigh, hitching her up against him until his own hard length presses against her slick heat, sinking into her with a smooth and almost exploratory thrust.
The low groan rumbles from the butcher as he hitches forward, his freehand reaching for Danta’s wrist while his tail curves to wrap the ashen tip around Flora’s other leg. He spends a moment like that, feeling her stretch around him, the warmth that he craves, before he’s withdrawing agonizingly slow so that she can, in fact, feel him, before he snaps his hips back into her, fingertips digging into Danta’s wrist and the curve of Flora’s ass simultaneously.
Flora pulls him in and he’s steady as a pillar as she does, curving into her with a hum of appreciation, even as he hears her demand. His gaze lingers on his lover when he answers, the agreement with the sentiment one that goes unvocalized with the view of Flora tugging Danta in. Fire curls in him at the sight and the moan, deciding little time is to be wasted as he adjusts, one warm hand smoothing along the outside of her thigh, hitching her up against him until his own hard length presses against her slick heat, sinking into her with a smooth and almost exploratory thrust.
The low groan rumbles from the butcher as he hitches forward, his freehand reaching for Danta’s wrist while his tail curves to wrap the ashen tip around Flora’s other leg. He spends a moment like that, feeling her stretch around him, the warmth that he craves, before he’s withdrawing agonizingly slow so that she can, in fact, feel him, before he snaps his hips back into her, fingertips digging into Danta’s wrist and the curve of Flora’s ass simultaneously.
Astaroth
// and i'll paint it red //
