sweetest tongue has sharpest tooth

in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue

"Then who am I to keep all my compliments to myself?" Danta says with a smirk, falling quiet to focus on not toppling off the couch entirely as he strips his clothes off blind. Humming a mix of surprise and approval as he's tugged into a sudden kiss, his hands press to the butcher's bare chest, wisps of fire flaring beneath his fingertips as if to warm him to the core, through scars and flesh and bone alike.

With his cock now trapped between them if not freed from the tight confines of his pants, he gasps softly against the playful roll of Asta's hips, but before he can respond in kind he's distracted by the way his hand is promptly stolen. "Wh-- oh," he says through a breathless laugh as he realises what's happening, his free hand pressing harder against the other man's chest so he can lean in and drip compliments like honey against the shell of his ear.

"I love the wicked things your tongue can do," Danta whispers, fingers blazing a trail down Asta's chest now. "Almost as much as I love what you do with your hands." Grinning, he shifts just enough to reach for the buttons of the butcher's pants. "Sometimes all I want is for you to grab me and toss me onto the bed, just so I can have your hands on me again."

Dantalion