nothing is as simple

quietly, it slips through your fingers, love

"Oh, I bet she won't," Danta says through a quiet laugh; he'd not quite had the words to express his gratitude to Flora when his blindfold had been whisked away from his eyes earlier, but he'll be sure to find them later. For now, as he's ushered towards their bed, his fingers are already doing their best to untuck Asta's shirt and unfasten any buttons he comes across, keen to feel the heat of the butcher's body as well as the warmth rippling through the air around them.

"Good," he purrs in reply, the word huffed out as his back hits the bedpost, tail flicking in anticipation. Though when Asta delivers nothing more than a soft, chaste kiss to his lips, the Maverick can't help but tug at the other man's shirt a little too hard, sending the last couple of buttons popping off and scattering to the ground. "Oops," he mutters, not sounding at all apologetic for it.

Leaning in to steal the response from Asta's mouth with a much hungrier kiss, his hands slip into the ruined shirt and against warm, scar flecked skin, Danta doing his best to relay his desires with tongue and teeth and the press of his body against the butcher's. "And if I'm the one who wants to be played with?" he whispers, grinning.

Dantalion

fallin' from you, drop by drop