my, my, those eyes like fire, i'm a winged insect, you're a funeral pyre
come now, bite through these wires,
come now, bite through these wires,
“A must.” The butcher repeats in a quiet and easy purr, one that has him a touch distracted while Danta continues to thread those wicked fingers through his hair, smoothing back the dark strands out of his face in feather light waves that spool around his neck and the tops of his shoulders. The shiver continues down his spine when Danta’s hand smooths down the nape of his neck, only opening his eyes by the time his lover’s nose brushes against his own.
His fingers continue their idle designs in the small of his back, and to Danta’s dark little grin, Asta’s own is sharp and amused. “Mm..” He trails off, debating whether to be predictable or not. In the end, however, he had done this to prove a point hadn’t he? And with the little roguishly sharp grin, the butcher sits back a touch, pulling Danta a bit more into his lap as his tail wraps around his lover’s leg. “Dare, darling.”
His fingers continue their idle designs in the small of his back, and to Danta’s dark little grin, Asta’s own is sharp and amused. “Mm..” He trails off, debating whether to be predictable or not. In the end, however, he had done this to prove a point hadn’t he? And with the little roguishly sharp grin, the butcher sits back a touch, pulling Danta a bit more into his lap as his tail wraps around his lover’s leg. “Dare, darling.”
Astaroth
i'm a waking hell and the gods grow tired
