drink 'til you choke

when I was a child I heard voices, some would sing and some would scream

"Good," Danta replies through a sly smile, his eyes tracking every movement and shift of fabric, every peek of olive skin on show before Asta succeeds in tugging off his shirt. "I wouldn't want you to be too tired for our goddess right after she's chosen you to be her butcher." The thought thrills him all over again, and a mixture of pride and adoration shines in his expression as he welcomes Asta back against his lips.

"And it's bold of you to think that this is the only birthday gift you're getting from me," he mumbles with a chuckle, head tipping back to enjoy the hot brush of lips against the hollow of his throat, and as the Butcher braces over him to try and fumble with his belt, it's the least Danta can do to assist. Sneaking another kiss as his hands help to unbuckle and draw the strip of leather away, he can't resist the urge to press his palm against Asta's growing arousal through the fabric of his pants, nipping gently at his lower lip and squeezing the hard length of him.

Any wit or sly remarks die on his tongue at that point; surging forward to deepen the kiss again, the Maverick has to force himself to actually unfasten buttons instead of merely ripping them away, but that doesn't make him any less impatient for the Butcher's body.

The Maverick

you soon find you have few choices, I learned the voices died with me