// i get a toothache every time i lie to someone i love //
His heart thunders under Danta’s hand, a rabbits pace as it races with an increased speed from the tinge of iron flooded into the kiss. The words so silently written in his mouth are all the encouragement Asta needs, the lust, love, fear that he can feel in both the press of Danta’s hand in the dark raven strands of his hair. He presses back in, a renewed vigor of proving to him that he could sit there raw and at his worst self and still, even still, Asta would burn the world down for him.
His hands are busy the second Danta moves, immediately ridding him of his clothes so that he can spread his warm, scarred hands across every inch of fresh skin, blunt fingernails dragging pale pink lines against his sides from his hips up to his arms, spreading to drag down his back from his shoulders as he’s shifting back to make it easier for Danta to straddle him, a grunt of sound is breathy as Danta’s kiss trails against his jaw.
He doesn’t realize he’s started panting until fingers tighten in his hair, until Danta’s violent promise is poured into his ear, when his breath hitches and a shiver races down his spine and his tail sweeps forward to press the flat spaded end in between Danta’s shoulder blades. His hands trail down, thumbs hooking into the waistband of his pants, already eagerly trying to shimmy him out of them, even if it’s at the cost of losing the precarious balance he has from where he’s sitting with him in his lap.
He does lose his balance, for what it’s worth, falling backwards just enough that his ass hits the rug and he rolls backwards somehow smoothly, jostling them back until his spine is flat against the floor. “Fuck.” Comes the rough and soft laugh, settling for a moment before he’s surging up again, finally stripping the rest of Danta’s clothes off, chin tilting up to give him all the space against his throat he might want, bearing himself to the Maverick in all the ways he so rarely did.
His hands are busy the second Danta moves, immediately ridding him of his clothes so that he can spread his warm, scarred hands across every inch of fresh skin, blunt fingernails dragging pale pink lines against his sides from his hips up to his arms, spreading to drag down his back from his shoulders as he’s shifting back to make it easier for Danta to straddle him, a grunt of sound is breathy as Danta’s kiss trails against his jaw.
He doesn’t realize he’s started panting until fingers tighten in his hair, until Danta’s violent promise is poured into his ear, when his breath hitches and a shiver races down his spine and his tail sweeps forward to press the flat spaded end in between Danta’s shoulder blades. His hands trail down, thumbs hooking into the waistband of his pants, already eagerly trying to shimmy him out of them, even if it’s at the cost of losing the precarious balance he has from where he’s sitting with him in his lap.
He does lose his balance, for what it’s worth, falling backwards just enough that his ass hits the rug and he rolls backwards somehow smoothly, jostling them back until his spine is flat against the floor. “Fuck.” Comes the rough and soft laugh, settling for a moment before he’s surging up again, finally stripping the rest of Danta’s clothes off, chin tilting up to give him all the space against his throat he might want, bearing himself to the Maverick in all the ways he so rarely did.
Astaroth
// please just look me in my rotting smile and tell me i'm the only one you think of //
