southern comfort's comforting, isn't it?

/// sorry, but you just got in my way
i promise honey, i can feel your pain

He’s uncoordinated, but Asta’s sure if he tempers himself and doesn’t immediately take the advantage of more blood loss with the other bottles lingering about that it shouldn’t be too long before Danta starts feeling better. So he goes slowly, gently, as much for the Maverick as much as it is for himself. His hands smooth along his lover’s skin, spreading and smearing blood everywhere he touches.

Red marks settle at Danta’s hips eventually in the long stretch of his fingers. An open mouthed “I want you too. Gods, so much so.” He can’t stop himself from the slight vocal gush, the whisper back one that’s made of his own lightheadedness — though while it isn’t from blood, it’s from admiration and adoration for everything Danta does for him.

When he sinks forward, the weight of his arm over his shoulders has him moving a little slower than he usually does. He aligns them, his cock aching as he sinks into the Maverick. It’s with a guttural growl that escapes his throat, the rhythm a gentler one than he might usually do, but the possessiveness of his hands and how he holds Danta screams everything else that usually sits in the butchers heart.

Astaroth

and maybe i enjoy it just a little bit
does that make me insane? ///