southern comfort's comforting, isn't it?

all you have is your fire, and the place you need to reach

Let it never be said that they don't take full advantage of all the furnishings in their room. With the bed in Danta's eyeline, the Maverick nevertheless wants to be nowhere else but here, marked with the shape of Asta's hands in his own blood and dizzied by everything leading up to and including this moment. The soft moan that escapes his lips as the butcher finally takes what he's been craving is nothing to the feral growl that rumbles between them, and the combination is music to Danta's ears.

"Fuck, you're so--" Everything, is what he can't find the words to say. Everything he didn't know he needed, everything he craves, charm and wit and horror all wrapped together in a perfectly fitted suit. Giving up on the attempt and rocking his hips in time with Asta's gentle rhythm, the feel of him is overwhelming in an entirely different way, Danta's fingers gripping hard against Asta's shoulders as if to tell him not to stop.

"I love the way you fuck me," he whispers, his free hand smoothing through the butcher's hair to keep his head tilted up towards him, wanting to see the look on his face when he comes undone.

Dantalion

don't you ever tame your demons, but always keep 'em on a leash