// make me bleed if you need to confirm that it's something i can do //
The recovery is slow going with the crumbs that have set the back of his throat ablaze, but the butcher maintains the dramaticism in the way he sighs heavily to see the rolling of his fiance’s eyes, fighting hard to prevent his lips from quirking up with amusement and failing only in the far reaches of the corners of his mouth. “Alas, I am afraid this may be the hill I do die on.” He aims for all the dramatics in his tone, the frown he can’t help but to put back into place as he tries to sell the point more.
Though, in true drama fashion, he does gasp a little to hear the potential persuasion efforts, amusement flickering in his eyes even if the rest of his face doesn’t convey it as well. “I see. Well, I suppose that is something to consider.” He decides before he’s flatly thanking the fire for its help in crafting such a deliciously sweet breakfast, taking another sip of the tea to hide the grin of amusement behind the rim of the cup as Danta laughs a rich, beautiful sound.
The fire hand slinks back to the flame and Asta sets the cup down, his hand smoothing out over Danta’s leg that’s settled in his lap, adjusting it in a way he can encroach on his lover’s space to place a kiss where he can reach from this angle – the ridge of his lower rib on his chest. “And what might the requirements look like, darling?” He asks, sinking down enough to rest his chin on Danta’s stomach and peer up at him with eyes made honey bright between the glint of the sun and the flames of the fire that still reach out toward them that he plays with to sell the point some more.
Though, in true drama fashion, he does gasp a little to hear the potential persuasion efforts, amusement flickering in his eyes even if the rest of his face doesn’t convey it as well. “I see. Well, I suppose that is something to consider.” He decides before he’s flatly thanking the fire for its help in crafting such a deliciously sweet breakfast, taking another sip of the tea to hide the grin of amusement behind the rim of the cup as Danta laughs a rich, beautiful sound.
The fire hand slinks back to the flame and Asta sets the cup down, his hand smoothing out over Danta’s leg that’s settled in his lap, adjusting it in a way he can encroach on his lover’s space to place a kiss where he can reach from this angle – the ridge of his lower rib on his chest. “And what might the requirements look like, darling?” He asks, sinking down enough to rest his chin on Danta’s stomach and peer up at him with eyes made honey bright between the glint of the sun and the flames of the fire that still reach out toward them that he plays with to sell the point some more.
Astaroth
// and i'll paint it red //
