His hands are big from his nature, scarred from the countless battles that he had pledged, and they burn like coals. They're calloused from his infamous axe, but now they are nothing but soft while they caress your body, your legs, slowly tracing up, exposing your bare skin.
His talons are sharp; they could rip off a heart as much as you care, but now they just make your skin crawl in anticipation. Even if he scratched you or cut you, you wouldn't even care; it would be just another marking.
His lips are small but soft, kissing your chest without leaving one angle free from his clutches. You cannot see; his raven hair covers his gesture, but you're sure that even now he's baring his fangs, projecting to bite into your soft skin.
You would allow him; you want him to do it.
He's an omen between his brothers, but here it's just the one your body and soul desire.
He raised his gaze, his ruby eyes met yours, and you just wanted to crumble. You wish he could just devour you; you wouldn't mind. You cannot hide your moan anymore; you just want him. You beg to be taken, he smiles, he rises, and—
"Y/n? Are you paying attention?"
Your daydream stops. You timidly try to look at Astaroth, his data log still in his hand, still waiting for you to give him an affirmative nod, a word, anything. You almost drop the quill, your face so red that it could rival his robes. The chaplain looks at you with his usual stern solemnity, getting closer and examining your latest work.
"M-my apologies, my lord. I… I was d-di-distracted…" You mumbled, fearing he could notice how your legs clutched each other, searching for some friction.
"I had notice," he spoke, "but I want your mind on me now…then, you can rest."
You swallow your anxiety and everything else your mind kept on suggesting to you about you and your chaplain, Lord Astaroth. You beg your mind to stop wandering, your heart to calm down, and whatever kind of force that could save you to hide your arousal from his attentive eyes.
You, on the other hand, fail to see his smirk.
