// i get a toothache every time i lie to someone i love //
Even if Danta did decide to burn the clothes away, at least they had extra in their bags. But then they’d have to explain the charred marks in the floor and the rug that would likely go up in flames - though it isn’t like it would stop the butcher from repeating these sweet nothings in the midst of a fire’s white heat. If anything, it might become too dramatic.
But it’s with the silence of their beautiful evening so far, the way he feels the warmth of Danta’s hands as they rise up his thighs, only to be captured and placed in the space where he can tell Danta each and every poetic that comes to mind until he shuts him up. Because that’s how it always has to happen. And he’ll gladly do it again and again if it made the Maverick aware of just how much he meant to him.
He sees the stuttered blink of surprise. He sees the the way the red flush clings to his skin. He sees the way Danta doesn’t seem to really know how to react. And that’s okay. He’ll stay there, perched between his legs, letting the warm dark abyss of his gaze provide all of the things still unsaid, all of the things Asta knows Danta knows, but feels as though they’re worth saying anyway.
Because Danta deserves it. He deserves so much after everything. And he’d give him the world if it was all the Maverick wanted. Luckily for him, at least, it seems all he wants is the butcher. And that is something he can provide immediately.
Dark honey brown meets vibrant blues harboring a touch of surprise, suspended in this moment for a few long seconds before Danta’s surging up and Asta’s there to greet him with all of his fiery chaos. His hand curls around Danta’s where it’s still pressed to his heart, keeping him anchored there as their lips collide, as Asta presses everything unsaid into the kiss. The i love yous, the you’re everything I want, the you make me complete.
The room melts away, hammock and all in favor for drowning himself in the Maverick. And he does, completely, pressing back with just as much greed, incapable from this position not to nick Danta’s lip or tongue with the sharp press of his teeth with how they try to devour each other. The tinge of iron lingers, flaring in its metallic bitterness that has the butcher humming a note of pleasure into their carnal kiss, surging with a renewed vigor.
But it’s with the silence of their beautiful evening so far, the way he feels the warmth of Danta’s hands as they rise up his thighs, only to be captured and placed in the space where he can tell Danta each and every poetic that comes to mind until he shuts him up. Because that’s how it always has to happen. And he’ll gladly do it again and again if it made the Maverick aware of just how much he meant to him.
He sees the stuttered blink of surprise. He sees the the way the red flush clings to his skin. He sees the way Danta doesn’t seem to really know how to react. And that’s okay. He’ll stay there, perched between his legs, letting the warm dark abyss of his gaze provide all of the things still unsaid, all of the things Asta knows Danta knows, but feels as though they’re worth saying anyway.
Because Danta deserves it. He deserves so much after everything. And he’d give him the world if it was all the Maverick wanted. Luckily for him, at least, it seems all he wants is the butcher. And that is something he can provide immediately.
Dark honey brown meets vibrant blues harboring a touch of surprise, suspended in this moment for a few long seconds before Danta’s surging up and Asta’s there to greet him with all of his fiery chaos. His hand curls around Danta’s where it’s still pressed to his heart, keeping him anchored there as their lips collide, as Asta presses everything unsaid into the kiss. The i love yous, the you’re everything I want, the you make me complete.
The room melts away, hammock and all in favor for drowning himself in the Maverick. And he does, completely, pressing back with just as much greed, incapable from this position not to nick Danta’s lip or tongue with the sharp press of his teeth with how they try to devour each other. The tinge of iron lingers, flaring in its metallic bitterness that has the butcher humming a note of pleasure into their carnal kiss, surging with a renewed vigor.
Astaroth
// please just look me in my rotting smile and tell me i'm the only one you think of //
