// there's a reason that they hate me, a reason that they need me //
So long as they’re in agreement with the playful complaint, the butcher is happy to draw quiet and melt into his fiancé while his glamour slips away. “Precisely, darling.” Still with the thrum of that thicker Whitebrim accent, the butcher caves shortly after Danta starts working the magic in his fingers. His shoulders relax, tension in his neck melting away with each focused touch, and before he knows it, he’s sunk down onto Danta surprisingly easily – drawn into a submission that only the Maverick has the know-how and boldness to do.
Probably because if anyone else tried, they’d lose a finger (or two, or a whole hand). “No.” He lies so easily, having sunk and caved in to where Danta’s shoulder is precisely the space his head has sunk down to, cushioned by the stubble of his beard. “Not at all.” He continues, despite how Danta would very well be able to tell with the putty Asta’s become. He’s more like a blanket now, his body warm and soaking up the other Ancient’s heat even as a cooler breeze slips through their tent and brushes against the space of his neck and shoulder that are open from where his hair has been captured to the other side.
It’s only a few more long moments of indulging and focusing on the pathways of the fingertips that drum a beautifully relaxing motion against his spine and the back of his neck, before Danta successfully tames the beast with a stubborn little slump to prove he’s fallen asleep.
Probably because if anyone else tried, they’d lose a finger (or two, or a whole hand). “No.” He lies so easily, having sunk and caved in to where Danta’s shoulder is precisely the space his head has sunk down to, cushioned by the stubble of his beard. “Not at all.” He continues, despite how Danta would very well be able to tell with the putty Asta’s become. He’s more like a blanket now, his body warm and soaking up the other Ancient’s heat even as a cooler breeze slips through their tent and brushes against the space of his neck and shoulder that are open from where his hair has been captured to the other side.
It’s only a few more long moments of indulging and focusing on the pathways of the fingertips that drum a beautifully relaxing motion against his spine and the back of his neck, before Danta successfully tames the beast with a stubborn little slump to prove he’s fallen asleep.
Astaroth
// there's a reason to enslave me and a reason to defeat me //
