Astaroth
// so sip the gossip, drink 'til you choke. sip the gossip, burn down your throat //
“So true, darling.” The Butcher’s agreement comes without a second of hesitation, pressed into the Maverick’s mouth alongside the kiss that harbors all the promise and desire in it that he finds he needs. But it also gives him all the time in the world to focus, to get out of the clothes still tinged with the air of the Climb and the cold, until he’s precisely as he should be between his fiance’s legs, all olive skin and scars (and a new one in the shape of Dygra’s perfect lips).
The light of the morning is faint as it blankets his back, but it’s there enough to let his shadow blanket the Maverick, unmovable and without the mischief and smiling face it otherwise had, safe at last again from Asta’s Haunt. But he doesn’t focus on that, not with the other Ancient looking as though he’s ready to be ravished, and the Butcher fully inclined to do such a thing.
His fingers stroke along Danta’s length in that teasing, testing yet attentive movement he often did, unable to hide the lilt of the smirk that blooms on his face as his dark eyes drink him in. “You should have known, yes. We are celebratinggg.” His voice drips with equal accent and mischief, cheshire and amused as he curves back over his fiancé, propped up by one hand. His dark hair sweeps forward, nearly long enough now to brush against Danta’s chest where he presses a kiss and reaches for Danta’s leg to tug him a bit closer, pressing in against him until he’s snagging both of their lengths in a stronger grip, stroking them together a little faster than his teasing touch had been.
The light of the morning is faint as it blankets his back, but it’s there enough to let his shadow blanket the Maverick, unmovable and without the mischief and smiling face it otherwise had, safe at last again from Asta’s Haunt. But he doesn’t focus on that, not with the other Ancient looking as though he’s ready to be ravished, and the Butcher fully inclined to do such a thing.
His fingers stroke along Danta’s length in that teasing, testing yet attentive movement he often did, unable to hide the lilt of the smirk that blooms on his face as his dark eyes drink him in. “You should have known, yes. We are celebratinggg.” His voice drips with equal accent and mischief, cheshire and amused as he curves back over his fiancé, propped up by one hand. His dark hair sweeps forward, nearly long enough now to brush against Danta’s chest where he presses a kiss and reaches for Danta’s leg to tug him a bit closer, pressing in against him until he’s snagging both of their lengths in a stronger grip, stroking them together a little faster than his teasing touch had been.
// you're not iconic, you are just like them all. don't act like you don't know //
