there's an angel on your story and a demon in your bed
feels a bit surreal, feeling bad, don't feel it yet
feels a bit surreal, feeling bad, don't feel it yet
“Good.” To hear that he isn’t going to complain, that is, because he’s not sure right now rationally that he could stand it. And even still, with their minds made up, he finds himself asking just on the off chance Danta had some important leadering things to do that Asta internally snarls at. Instead, he hears some of the best news, even if it’s snarky and playful. “Mm, well, there will be time.” He assures Danta as he tilts his head gently into the whispered kisses along his stubbled jaw.
It’s a tender touch that doesn’t last that long, not as he concedes to the coiling within him. The restlessness that makes him both frustrated and demanding, he presses back into the kiss as if he can explain all of those with just the press of his lips and the swipe of his tongue. But it’s lacking, as if trying to race time, unable to eloquently express it how he otherwise might.
His hands are possessive where they drag along his lover’s sides, surging back into the kiss until he aches before he withdraws. All thoughts blur into one as he shifts again, this time murmuring a low growl of “that can be arranged.” belatedly, like his mind is still trying to catch up with the strangeness blooming in him.
Furs and sheets are disregarded as he rises, knelt between Danta’s legs as his hands and tail drag across smooth, sleep warmed skin, before he encouragingly tries to twist Danta around, to mirror him on his knees all while giving him the option to stroke warm fire tipped fingers up the expanse of his spine and to the nape of his neck. “I want nothing more than to ravage you.” Comes the low and husky sound, the growl scraping through the deeper recesses of his accent as fire drags back down Danta’s spine toward his hips, helping to hitch him up steadier.
It’s a tender touch that doesn’t last that long, not as he concedes to the coiling within him. The restlessness that makes him both frustrated and demanding, he presses back into the kiss as if he can explain all of those with just the press of his lips and the swipe of his tongue. But it’s lacking, as if trying to race time, unable to eloquently express it how he otherwise might.
His hands are possessive where they drag along his lover’s sides, surging back into the kiss until he aches before he withdraws. All thoughts blur into one as he shifts again, this time murmuring a low growl of “that can be arranged.” belatedly, like his mind is still trying to catch up with the strangeness blooming in him.
Furs and sheets are disregarded as he rises, knelt between Danta’s legs as his hands and tail drag across smooth, sleep warmed skin, before he encouragingly tries to twist Danta around, to mirror him on his knees all while giving him the option to stroke warm fire tipped fingers up the expanse of his spine and to the nape of his neck. “I want nothing more than to ravage you.” Comes the low and husky sound, the growl scraping through the deeper recesses of his accent as fire drags back down Danta’s spine toward his hips, helping to hitch him up steadier.
Astaroth
it's a roulette kinda deal, black and red is what you get
