// there's a reason that they hate me, a reason that they need me //
“Oh, that is an option?” The butcher smirks, intimately aware of how his fingers twitch against his back, just at the hem of the thin shirt he wears. Its below enough of his scar tissue to be very sensitive, high enough that it doesn’t delve into the start of his tail, and it only adds to the desire thrumming through him when he meets Danta’s gaze.
Delight flickers in the lust driven dark of his eyes, lips parting enough to start saying “make m-” before Danta does just that. Everything else falls away with the feel of his lover’s tongue pressing against his sharpest tooth, the blood painting both of their lips a crimson and flooding their mouths with the delightful twinge of iron that Asta can’t bite back the low growl of need that leaves him, pouring into his lover’s mouth.
It sends him into overdrive, almost as if any sensation of clothes whatsoever might be a threat – and it has him sharply sent into action. He parts from the kiss with a panting breath, tail flicking behind him as he draws up enough to slip out of his shirt and leave it gods know where. It leaves his hair a mess, and probably a tear in the shirt from his antlers he was not careful about when removing it. And when he descends again it’s to tug Danta’s off any way he can. It’s overdrive in the sense that Asta doesn’t stop there, either, curling over the blonde to claim him in another kiss as his hands drop between them, palming his trapped length before working to get his pants off.
Delight flickers in the lust driven dark of his eyes, lips parting enough to start saying “make m-” before Danta does just that. Everything else falls away with the feel of his lover’s tongue pressing against his sharpest tooth, the blood painting both of their lips a crimson and flooding their mouths with the delightful twinge of iron that Asta can’t bite back the low growl of need that leaves him, pouring into his lover’s mouth.
It sends him into overdrive, almost as if any sensation of clothes whatsoever might be a threat – and it has him sharply sent into action. He parts from the kiss with a panting breath, tail flicking behind him as he draws up enough to slip out of his shirt and leave it gods know where. It leaves his hair a mess, and probably a tear in the shirt from his antlers he was not careful about when removing it. And when he descends again it’s to tug Danta’s off any way he can. It’s overdrive in the sense that Asta doesn’t stop there, either, curling over the blonde to claim him in another kiss as his hands drop between them, palming his trapped length before working to get his pants off.
Astaroth
// there's a reason to enslave me and a reason to defeat me //
