// i've got a lot to show for the time you're gonna lose //
Peering down at the Maverick, it’s to the wild flare of heavy lidded vibrant blues, reflecting the fire as it dances both between them and in the fireplace at the foot of their bed. The flame along Danta’s chest curls against his neck, a fiery collar that singes the silk and smokes, burning dimly and easily extinguished despite the very strong distraction his lover makes.
The scent of smoke and iron flood his senses, the faint hints of salt and citrus mixed in take everything in Asta to not lose himself completely in the arcs of the other Ancient’s spine and the way he seems to be waiting for something — something he receives surprisingly quickly. It’s a shift from the butcher, the one that goes from prim, proper, calculating every moment to become something more feral, more spontaneous, a touch janky in the way his hand continues to stroke his lover’s length.
But Danta cages his hand underneath his and Asta’s hips rock into him a touch slower — the opposite of what he’s asking for, but it allows for the butcher to dive down to press against him, trailing those blood smeared kisses along his sternum to the sharp juts of his collarbones, finding a particularly sensitive place to suck a dark mark into that does have him accidentally nicking him with an elongated canine, the flare of blood bringing a new series of darker groans from Asta’s throat. His thrusts get faster, his pulse rabbiting in the side of his neck as he fucks him with an almost new vigor, a pace matched with his hand.
The scent of smoke and iron flood his senses, the faint hints of salt and citrus mixed in take everything in Asta to not lose himself completely in the arcs of the other Ancient’s spine and the way he seems to be waiting for something — something he receives surprisingly quickly. It’s a shift from the butcher, the one that goes from prim, proper, calculating every moment to become something more feral, more spontaneous, a touch janky in the way his hand continues to stroke his lover’s length.
But Danta cages his hand underneath his and Asta’s hips rock into him a touch slower — the opposite of what he’s asking for, but it allows for the butcher to dive down to press against him, trailing those blood smeared kisses along his sternum to the sharp juts of his collarbones, finding a particularly sensitive place to suck a dark mark into that does have him accidentally nicking him with an elongated canine, the flare of blood bringing a new series of darker groans from Asta’s throat. His thrusts get faster, his pulse rabbiting in the side of his neck as he fucks him with an almost new vigor, a pace matched with his hand.
Astaroth
// by the time i go, i'll tear you up in two //
