// make me bleed if you need to confirm that it's something i can do //
It’s angelic, a beautiful serenade of the choir that makes his name. And his appreciation is given in each thrust of his hips, helping her ride out the orgasm that tears through her, that he can feel the tremble and twitch of her as it pounds through her in waves. It’s only when she softens and her greed paints the air in a hoarse whisper does the butcher finally regain some focus, stepping back a fraction to catch his breath, to make enough room for his lover to slip between them to indulge just as he had.
It’s in this time his hand lifts to carve through his dark hair, pushing it back and out of his face from where it had begun to come loose from their endeavors tonight. He tries to ground himself and the burning lightning in his stomach and chest as Danta slips between them, the familiar press of his back against his chest. He wants to be snarky and stubborn, a brat as per usual, but he’s so fucking focused on not sinking his teeth into Danta or Flora at present that the low hum that leaves him more akin to a growl is the confirmation he receives.
It’s a smooth, quick movement, as Danta curves over Flora and sinks into her heat, the butcher’s hands find Danta’s hip and wind around his shoulder. He sinks into the Maverick with just as much attention, curving over him enough to press a kiss and suck a mark into Danta’s shoulder, dark eyes burning over the pale scar flecked skin to let the rawness of his dark gaze focus on Flora. Its carnal and feral, the twitch of his hips once they’ve settled, withdrawing enough to give Danta the space to make his own thrust before he’s following suit, a hard snap of his hips.
It’s in this time his hand lifts to carve through his dark hair, pushing it back and out of his face from where it had begun to come loose from their endeavors tonight. He tries to ground himself and the burning lightning in his stomach and chest as Danta slips between them, the familiar press of his back against his chest. He wants to be snarky and stubborn, a brat as per usual, but he’s so fucking focused on not sinking his teeth into Danta or Flora at present that the low hum that leaves him more akin to a growl is the confirmation he receives.
It’s a smooth, quick movement, as Danta curves over Flora and sinks into her heat, the butcher’s hands find Danta’s hip and wind around his shoulder. He sinks into the Maverick with just as much attention, curving over him enough to press a kiss and suck a mark into Danta’s shoulder, dark eyes burning over the pale scar flecked skin to let the rawness of his dark gaze focus on Flora. Its carnal and feral, the twitch of his hips once they’ve settled, withdrawing enough to give Danta the space to make his own thrust before he’s following suit, a hard snap of his hips.
Astaroth
// and i'll paint it red //
