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
Danta will be able to feel the smirk that tugs on the corners of his lips as he dives in against his lover’s neck, drifting up toward his jaw and jeweled ear with a neediness that can only be helped by the grinding increase of the rocking of his hips. Of course, hearing the sounds that leave the Maverick’s lips only spur him on further, desire dragging an indulgent curl of his tail around Danta’s thigh as he gives into his begging both in his voice and the space he’s tugging his hand.
It drifts up and Asta’s position changes, lips painted a faint red from the brief scratches caused on his lover’s neck as he hovers around his shoulder as he squeezes his throat with the encouragement practically pouring from his lover’s lips, that he works him enough to work himself up in the process. His tongue sweeps across his bloodied lips, pairing Danta’s request and panting breaths with quieter grunts of confirmation and groans of his own.
And as he watches him come undone, the butcher’s lips twitch in a breathy smirk before his own orgasm claims him with a sharp and stuttered, deep thrust that has him buried. “Gods, Danta,” comes his own unbidden moan, louder and more possessive as his arms sweep around to caress him closer - reverently as they ride out the bliss that floats in their limbs, uncaring weather the tailor had stayed or left as far as he’s concerned.
Though he’d be lying if the thought of him lingering didn’t help spur him further in a possessive he’s mine and I’m his kind of way.
It drifts up and Asta’s position changes, lips painted a faint red from the brief scratches caused on his lover’s neck as he hovers around his shoulder as he squeezes his throat with the encouragement practically pouring from his lover’s lips, that he works him enough to work himself up in the process. His tongue sweeps across his bloodied lips, pairing Danta’s request and panting breaths with quieter grunts of confirmation and groans of his own.
And as he watches him come undone, the butcher’s lips twitch in a breathy smirk before his own orgasm claims him with a sharp and stuttered, deep thrust that has him buried. “Gods, Danta,” comes his own unbidden moan, louder and more possessive as his arms sweep around to caress him closer - reverently as they ride out the bliss that floats in their limbs, uncaring weather the tailor had stayed or left as far as he’s concerned.
Though he’d be lying if the thought of him lingering didn’t help spur him further in a possessive he’s mine and I’m his kind of way.
Astaroth
if you want me all to yourself, then take on the leap
