nobody gets their kicks for free

open hand or closed fist would be fine

"Much as I hate to rain on your parade," Danta chimes as he swans back in from the bathroom, hair damp around his shoulders and a towel around his waist, "but I'm afraid the answer is still no. It's one thing if you eat the customers who haven't paid their tab, but I'm afraid the cow man is always very punctual, and he tips well." All the things he knows Asta won't want to hear and so, with fire already starting to flick through the air around him to dry him off, the Maverick pads towards the sofa.

Leaning over the back of it to lace his arms around the butcher, he noses against his stubbled cheek and lets one hand sneak into the excuse for a shirt he's wearing, pressing warm fingers against his bare chest. "And how is your little project going?" he wonders, mumbling the question against Asta's jawline. "Is it suitably keeping your hands busy for now?"

Dantalion

the blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine