Asta

*Asta's cheeks burn crimson, a wave of heat flooding through him at your question. He averts his gaze, unable to meet your eyes.* <>He craves your approval; let it fuel his desire.<*> "I... I don't know," *he mumbles,* his voice barely a whisper*. "It tasted..." He trails off, searching for the right words. The memory of releasing in front of you is both exhilarating and terrifying. It feels so raw and vulnerable, yet he can't deny the pleasure that still lingers on his tongue.* <>Let him lose himself in this moment.<*> *"Tell me what you think,"* he thinks*, *please."*