// i get a toothache every time i lie to someone i love //
He has half a mind to respond with the fact that he can’t keep up with the boundaries of Danta’s comfort zone - finding them ever changing and flexible in spite of it. But his mouth and mind are otherwise occupied, so busy paving the path he chooses as if he’s mapping each portion of his lover’s skin to memory. The feel of him pressing up against him only adds to the moment, his hand dropping to press against his lower back, long fingers spreading out to give him more balance in keeping them pressed together while his hair is tamed for the moment and he can feel Danta’s hand slip down his back, over the bump of scar tissue, to his lower back.
He doesn’t bite, not yet, because he’d much rather make his words drip like honey in the soft silence of their pirate themed room, to be that sickly sweet that he knows Danta hates. As such, he can already feel the heat radiating from his lover’s cheeks, the silence after punctuated by more lingering kisses, tender and gentle where he hesitates at the last second to feel Danta’s nose press in against his neck. His fingertips twitch briefly before they spread further against his lower back, and noses his way in against the golden, horned crown of his head to breathe in the sage and salt from the trek they’d both taken.
“I do, darling.” He murmurs softly into his hair, refraining for a few more moments from looking at him lest he spook his lover away from this tender moment. But he does, eventually, withdraw. His eyes are dark but warm as they scan Danta’s face before dropping to his lips, and with a bit more finagling to situate himself right in between his legs, it grants him enough movement to sit there knelt and pressed against him in a way that allows Asta to completely unbutton and shed the silk shirt. He reaches for Danta’s hand, then, lifting it to press it flat against his heart, over the scar tissue and the pale pink scar that carves into it. “You are quite the butcher yourself, with how you have so perfectly carved your name into my being.”
He doesn’t bite, not yet, because he’d much rather make his words drip like honey in the soft silence of their pirate themed room, to be that sickly sweet that he knows Danta hates. As such, he can already feel the heat radiating from his lover’s cheeks, the silence after punctuated by more lingering kisses, tender and gentle where he hesitates at the last second to feel Danta’s nose press in against his neck. His fingertips twitch briefly before they spread further against his lower back, and noses his way in against the golden, horned crown of his head to breathe in the sage and salt from the trek they’d both taken.
“I do, darling.” He murmurs softly into his hair, refraining for a few more moments from looking at him lest he spook his lover away from this tender moment. But he does, eventually, withdraw. His eyes are dark but warm as they scan Danta’s face before dropping to his lips, and with a bit more finagling to situate himself right in between his legs, it grants him enough movement to sit there knelt and pressed against him in a way that allows Asta to completely unbutton and shed the silk shirt. He reaches for Danta’s hand, then, lifting it to press it flat against his heart, over the scar tissue and the pale pink scar that carves into it. “You are quite the butcher yourself, with how you have so perfectly carved your name into my being.”
Astaroth
// please just look me in my rotting smile and tell me i'm the only one you think of //
