i will never go backwards, i will never be seen
in the wake of disaster ...
in the wake of disaster ...
Civility is lost the further they drift from the party, the further they delve into this quiet part of the woods. He’s left the cloak of manners and ease back where the silver chainmail cape is left in a pile, with only one focus on the forefront of his mind. He hums a quiet and airy laugh to feel Danta’s teeth bite into the flesh of his lower lip, his smile sharpening into a smug smirk of arrogance.
Slipping him out of his clothes proves easy, though it isn’t as if Danta exactly makes it hard. The clothes are left in a pile and before Asta has a chance to slip his hands toward himself to free him of the rest of his own, he’s stepping out of his shoes when Danta surges in for a kiss, desperate and wanting and gods does Asta provide. He surges back into it as if he’s water and Asta’s been living through a drought, needy and possessive and ultimately greedy.
Ferried backwards just after slipping out of his own clothes, one of Asta’s hands threads through the silver of Danta’s hair while the other drops to his hip, steadying even as his tail sweeps out behind him as if in search for a space they can make this little fantasy a reality. Though, not given much of a choice, the second he feels the change of slightly plush moss, Danta’s insistence grows and they’re dropping. He tugs Danta with him as he sinks down with a grunt, back close to the thick trunk of a smooth tree, but enough for purchase should either of them need it. He breaks the kiss to nose his lips against Danta's cheekbone, a certain smugness to his voice when he purrs a "this should do nicely."
Slipping him out of his clothes proves easy, though it isn’t as if Danta exactly makes it hard. The clothes are left in a pile and before Asta has a chance to slip his hands toward himself to free him of the rest of his own, he’s stepping out of his shoes when Danta surges in for a kiss, desperate and wanting and gods does Asta provide. He surges back into it as if he’s water and Asta’s been living through a drought, needy and possessive and ultimately greedy.
Ferried backwards just after slipping out of his own clothes, one of Asta’s hands threads through the silver of Danta’s hair while the other drops to his hip, steadying even as his tail sweeps out behind him as if in search for a space they can make this little fantasy a reality. Though, not given much of a choice, the second he feels the change of slightly plush moss, Danta’s insistence grows and they’re dropping. He tugs Danta with him as he sinks down with a grunt, back close to the thick trunk of a smooth tree, but enough for purchase should either of them need it. He breaks the kiss to nose his lips against Danta's cheekbone, a certain smugness to his voice when he purrs a "this should do nicely."
Astaroth
will you sink down to me?
