all you have is your fire, and the place you need to reach
"Better for who?" Danta grins, all dark promise and indulgent touch. "I happen to love hearing you give me warnings, not that I'm going to heed a single one of them." Hence the profoundly dangerous situation they suddenly find themselves in; violence paired with a love that runs so deep it almost begs for it. "You know I will," he assures him, the words a soft rumble in his throat as Asta leans in to drag kisses against his skin.
Danta settles in his lap as if he belongs there, fingers twisting softly through the butcher's dark locks to cradle the back of his head. It's an affection Asta will recognise easily as something that might tighten at any moment into something intended to hold the other man at bay - though whether that will even be possible this time is debatable. His eyes slip shut to better feel the heat of lips and teeth against his throat, but gods - gods - Asta's teeth are so sharp and practiced that the Maverick barely realises what's happened until the hot spill of blood coats his chest.
"Shit..." It's a combination of awe and desire that he clutches the butcher closer, breath hitching at the way Asta comes to life anew beneath him, heat rolling from his body amid the smell of blood that hangs heavy in the air. Pain starts to sting in Danta throat at the same time as he realises - distantly, in a way that might be funny if he lets it - that he's already growing lightheaded. His front is coated crimson already, blood continuing to pulse from his throat in waves times with the beating of his heart.
"Asta," he mumbles, trying to clutch the healing water more tightly between fingers that have started to lose their feeling. He raises the bottle, grip tightening feebly in the butcher's hair as he tries to draw back, but never has he been more at the other man's mercy than right now.
Danta settles in his lap as if he belongs there, fingers twisting softly through the butcher's dark locks to cradle the back of his head. It's an affection Asta will recognise easily as something that might tighten at any moment into something intended to hold the other man at bay - though whether that will even be possible this time is debatable. His eyes slip shut to better feel the heat of lips and teeth against his throat, but gods - gods - Asta's teeth are so sharp and practiced that the Maverick barely realises what's happened until the hot spill of blood coats his chest.
"Shit..." It's a combination of awe and desire that he clutches the butcher closer, breath hitching at the way Asta comes to life anew beneath him, heat rolling from his body amid the smell of blood that hangs heavy in the air. Pain starts to sting in Danta throat at the same time as he realises - distantly, in a way that might be funny if he lets it - that he's already growing lightheaded. His front is coated crimson already, blood continuing to pulse from his throat in waves times with the beating of his heart.
"Asta," he mumbles, trying to clutch the healing water more tightly between fingers that have started to lose their feeling. He raises the bottle, grip tightening feebly in the butcher's hair as he tries to draw back, but never has he been more at the other man's mercy than right now.
Dantalion
don't you ever tame your demons, but always keep 'em on a leash
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
