Astaroth
// but if you think I'm misery,
A soft snort leaves him, the knowing glint in his eyes as he scans Danta’s handsome face — the way the light plays against the golden strands of his hair, warming the sultry blue of his gaze. “Ironic isn’t it?” His accent grows thicker, lessening the prim and proper tones as he sighs contently. He wasn’t really one for politics, and the only true political person in this room was the very one he has kneeling once they part.
He watches the robe slip further as Danta descends and only once he’s made it fully down onto his knees does Asta’s shadow apply further pressure to his legs as his hand that’s trailed up his body finally reaches the mark in his crown of hair, blissfully free of the sharp spines of diamond. “Mm, almost. Just one thing..” Precisely the reason he should be apologizing in the future.
A lick of scorch magic comes to life in his blonde stands, curling down across his neck like a collar and sinking lower and lower until the robe catches flame, ash spitting out little weightless puffs until Danta’s fully unclothed, before he has the fire rise to press warmly against his chest. It’s a sight to behold and certainly affects the butcher almost as much as the blood does, the mixture of it all melding to make it so his fingertips tighten in his lover’s hair, a guidance toward the waiting length of him as he purrs a husky “Much better, don’t you think?”
He watches the robe slip further as Danta descends and only once he’s made it fully down onto his knees does Asta’s shadow apply further pressure to his legs as his hand that’s trailed up his body finally reaches the mark in his crown of hair, blissfully free of the sharp spines of diamond. “Mm, almost. Just one thing..” Precisely the reason he should be apologizing in the future.
A lick of scorch magic comes to life in his blonde stands, curling down across his neck like a collar and sinking lower and lower until the robe catches flame, ash spitting out little weightless puffs until Danta’s fully unclothed, before he has the fire rise to press warmly against his chest. It’s a sight to behold and certainly affects the butcher almost as much as the blood does, the mixture of it all melding to make it so his fingertips tighten in his lover’s hair, a guidance toward the waiting length of him as he purrs a husky “Much better, don’t you think?”
then baby, all the company,
it never leaves me alone, no //
it never leaves me alone, no //
