Astaroth
// but if you think I'm misery,
“Of course I let you know when it happens. They are proud moments, darling, it is not to my benefit if we forget.” He drawls as the knowing grin sparks across his face, wide and sharp and amused as he pushes his lover back entirely hands free and fills the space he’d left with his body. He watches the shoulders of the robe completely give up its attempt to remain in place as he comes to a pause once Danta can’t go any further back.
The shadows remain applying some amount of pressure and his tail whips playfully behind him as he reaches out to run a fingertip along the smooth pale silk, over the bunched up embroidery of the crows within it. “I simply need to know how much of an apology I will need to make.” He says as Danta takes a sip of his tea and really sends the sentiment home.
He can tell, briefly, before the Maverick’s even lowering the mug from his lips as the scent of iron paints the air. Faint and mixed with the hint of chai and sage, smoke and florals from their shower. But seeing the sight of it cling to the rim like lipstick in an abandoned coffee mug in the sink tugs at him harder than even he anticipates. “My, my, what have you done.” It doesn’t come out as a question despite how he’s worded it.
If anything, Asta becomes the shark that’s scented blood. His body and smile react instantly, poised and perfected, tense in the way a carnivore is on a hunt. It doesn’t stop the flush from darkening, the arousal blooming brighter now as he reaches up to take Danta’s cup and set it off to the side, slow and methodical because he’s pretty sure the rest of it won’t be.
He reaches up, then, one hand cupping his jaw to lift his chin up to get a better look, pinned there as he leans in to inspect, teasing and taunting for a few excruciating moments before he dives in for a greedy bloodstained kiss.
The shadows remain applying some amount of pressure and his tail whips playfully behind him as he reaches out to run a fingertip along the smooth pale silk, over the bunched up embroidery of the crows within it. “I simply need to know how much of an apology I will need to make.” He says as Danta takes a sip of his tea and really sends the sentiment home.
He can tell, briefly, before the Maverick’s even lowering the mug from his lips as the scent of iron paints the air. Faint and mixed with the hint of chai and sage, smoke and florals from their shower. But seeing the sight of it cling to the rim like lipstick in an abandoned coffee mug in the sink tugs at him harder than even he anticipates. “My, my, what have you done.” It doesn’t come out as a question despite how he’s worded it.
If anything, Asta becomes the shark that’s scented blood. His body and smile react instantly, poised and perfected, tense in the way a carnivore is on a hunt. It doesn’t stop the flush from darkening, the arousal blooming brighter now as he reaches up to take Danta’s cup and set it off to the side, slow and methodical because he’s pretty sure the rest of it won’t be.
He reaches up, then, one hand cupping his jaw to lift his chin up to get a better look, pinned there as he leans in to inspect, teasing and taunting for a few excruciating moments before he dives in for a greedy bloodstained kiss.
then baby, all the company,
it never leaves me alone, no //
it never leaves me alone, no //
