we thieves and lovers will keep up our urges to sin, to sin
let your desire be simply acquired within, within
let your desire be simply acquired within, within
Chuckling deeply, the butcher’s knowing look is paired with a deep rooted fire that glimmers in his gaze as he drags his hands all across his lover. Pressed together as they are, it allows his hands a touch more time to wander as his lips are caught in another warm kiss, making it impossible for him to respond to the quip of just how much he’s at his best right now.
He presses into the kiss, adding his chaos in the press of his body that makes it difficult for Danta to unbutton and remove his clothes, but with enough diligence (that he knows Danta is very capable of with this on the line) he fully intends to continue to distract him with the devouring kiss, a hint of smoke in the taste they share.
And then he parts from him and Asta’s fingers twitch with the absence of his lover’s warm body, immediately moving to shed himself of the clothes. His scarred body is patchily flushed and he takes the moment to rake his soft dark hair behind his antlers, peering at Danta through the reflection of the mirror with that same shark tooth grin as he snags that chainlink fabric to drape across his scarred shoulders — and gasp, nothing else.
“Only seven years, darling?” He asks, making as if to study the mirrors in just how many years he’d harbor bad luck for if he did deign to destroy them, even though he thinks he’d much prefer to keep them intact for what comes next. “I believe I could manage twenty-eight or so years of bad luck. Of course, that is assuming that each one of these mirrors gets ruined."
He presses into the kiss, adding his chaos in the press of his body that makes it difficult for Danta to unbutton and remove his clothes, but with enough diligence (that he knows Danta is very capable of with this on the line) he fully intends to continue to distract him with the devouring kiss, a hint of smoke in the taste they share.
And then he parts from him and Asta’s fingers twitch with the absence of his lover’s warm body, immediately moving to shed himself of the clothes. His scarred body is patchily flushed and he takes the moment to rake his soft dark hair behind his antlers, peering at Danta through the reflection of the mirror with that same shark tooth grin as he snags that chainlink fabric to drape across his scarred shoulders — and gasp, nothing else.
“Only seven years, darling?” He asks, making as if to study the mirrors in just how many years he’d harbor bad luck for if he did deign to destroy them, even though he thinks he’d much prefer to keep them intact for what comes next. “I believe I could manage twenty-eight or so years of bad luck. Of course, that is assuming that each one of these mirrors gets ruined."
Astaroth
if you want me all to yourself, then take on the leap
