hiding in plain sight

// as long as there's bread and as long as there's an appetite //

Oh the second the blood wells, the butcher is more like a shark. He would chase, if it weren’t for the pressure preventing him to, looking up at him with a flushed and heavy smirk, tongue wetting his lips as if to chase after any lingering tinge of iron or the sweet taste of the other man’s kiss.

Without any answer of whether or not Danta intends to hand over the reins, Astaroth remains in this position, watching with heavy lids and anticipation, hands smoothing out from the other man’s back to trail down his sides, dragging blunt and carefully kept nails down the other man’s sides to his hips, not pushing or pressing any kind of thoughts behind what Danta’s intending to do.

Relief swells through him, as does the tension when the blonde Ancient sinks down onto his cock, a groan breaking from his throat as those fingertips dig bruising marks in against Danta’s hips. The hand at his chest prevents him from sitting up further, but he’s content to watch the show, knowing Danta puts on the best.

The butcher growls a throaty sound, approval from where he lays, tail winding around Danta’s leg as if to keep him precisely where he is, and a challenging look glimmering in his gaze.

Astaroth

// as long as everyone you need is stepping in line, you are camouflaged //

// you knew who I was //

Thoroughly enjoying himself and his position of relative control, despite knowing he's the one who will eventually be fucked into oblivion in this tryst (if he's lucky, at least), Danta's smirk cuts into something breathless and needy with the first roll of his hips. Sinking down fully onto Asta's cock, the pace he picks is necessarily slow and almost sensual, his lips painted crimson with the blood that wells against them, his head tipping back as if he might be able to find Asta's hands around his throat just by wanting it enough.

Eventually, of course, the Maverick's fingers slip away from the other man's chest, giving him movement and free rein to sit up and do as he pleases. Danta is already more than willing to submit now that he's had his moment of teasing, though there is still mischief in his blue eyes as he gazes down at Asta.

Dantalion

// with every step that I ran to you //

// as long as there's bread and as long as there's an appetite //

Despite this not being a common occurrence for the butcher, he does know Danta and he does know just how their ideas can align. So even without speaking, the clues are there, left like breadcrumbs, in the way Danta’s head tips back, in the way he rolls his hips sensually rather than any other quick fuck. It’s enough to drive him insane, creating a vibrating tension of something else in the growls and pants that leave him, the twitch of his hips to help along the Maverick’s movements.

Like any other predator, the immediate second Danta’s hand and pressure slip away from pinning his chest, Astaroth is rising to meet him. His hand lifts, cupping Danta’s jaw and throat, fingertips tanging at the nape of his neck, palm pressed to the edge of his throat, while his thumb tilts his chin up just enough for the butcher to dive in and claim the reward. Iron paints his tongue and he moans approval into the blonde’s mouth, in a greedy and too quick kiss, his other hand smoothing out down Danta’s spine to his ass, pressing him down harder against his cock, mindful enough to lean back, keeping the hand at his neck while the other helps with the pace, Astaroth’s hips immediately snapping up into the blonde.

“Do you prefer this position?” He asks bluntly in a throaty tone, hazy and dark eyes scanning Danta’s face as the hand at his throat starts to drop, thumb pressing against the hollow there, light enough to let him speak and breathe but hard enough to feel the vibration of his voice.

Astaroth

// as long as everyone you need is stepping in line, you are camouflaged //

// you knew who I was //

Hiccuping out a soft laugh to feel Asta immediately surge up to meet him, the breath catches in Danta's throat as the butcher's hand encircles it, effectively keeping him in place. A thrill of something dark and delicious runs the length of his spine to see the other man lean in and take the next kiss from his lips, the Maverick left moaning and open mouthed as he's pressed deeper onto his cock. Hips arching and fingers flinching against Asta's chest - though doing nothing to keep him pinned now - it's through eyes made hazy by arousal that he tries to find the words to respond.

"Do I prefer being able to see your face when you cum?" He pants, a wicked smile kicking up the corner of his mouth, exposing a sharp fang. "There are definitely worse positions, put it that way." The butcher, of course, can take that however he likes; having surrendered control, if he wants to flip Danta over and fuck him instead, that's entirely his prerogative.

Dantalion

// with every step that I ran to you //

// as long as there's bread and as long as there's an appetite //

The brief pause in the Maverick’s speech sparks that sharp smirk to bloom on the butcher’s face, dark eyes taking in the way that the blonde seems to succumb to whatever it is Astaroth chooses. It itches that controlling part of him, pausing in the thrusts to give him a chance to respond, head cocking slightly with the amusement of the initial answer to his blunt question, relishing the feel in the vibration that he can feel from where his thumb presses against Danta’s throat.

“Good.” He decides swiftly, giving zero hesitation before that hand at his throat lifts, pressing his chin up and exposing the hollow of the Maverick’s throat, Asta’s mind restrained enough (and thankfully recently sated by quite the best option for his bloodlust) that he simply nips light enough to leave a scratch or two, before he sucks a dark mark into the Maverick’s pale throat. His hands lower, dropping to Danta’s hips with that same possessive touch before they wind around behind him, helping to lift him just enough to sate that demanding pace of before, greedy and all encompassing.

Astaroth

// as long as everyone you need is stepping in line, you are camouflaged //

// you knew who I was //

Words form on Danta's lips, only to scatter to the wind as Asta tilts his head back and leans in to stake a claim against his throat. Gasping something that vaguely sounds like the other man's name, he lets one arm slip up into the back of his dark hair, the other braced across his scarred shoulders for leverage. Given that he owns a brothel and has sex enough to rival a lot of the workers there, it's a high bar for the Maverick to say he's been thoroughly fucked, but gods if the butcher doesn't manage it each and every time.

(There's probably subtext there too, but no one needs to look too deeply at that).

The hand in Asta's hair is eventually forced to slip between them, Danta stroking a hard and feverish rhythm against his own cock, cheeks flushed and bruises already threatening against his hips and throat. "Fuck, I'm about to cum--" he manages, just about, the words stuttered between the relentless pace of the other man's thrusts.

Dantalion

// with every step that I ran to you //

// as long as there's bread and as long as there's an appetite //

With how infrequently the butcher partakes, (more frequently now that he’s realized the ticks and tells and having a way to actually succeed in releasing the tension), it’s always a bit of a surprise for him to be as demanding as he is, to know exactly what it is he wants. With Danta it’s by far the easiest, no secrets, no hidden agendas, no nothing. Simply just release (and possessiveness, but we won’t delve into that entirely).

Lips smirk against the Theocrat’s neck, nosing his way rather forcefully to the side of the other man’s throat, placing another dark bruise there that will certainly be on display in the coming days. Hot breath and groans escape him, raking across the other man’s neck as his pace grows a touch more erratic, one that mostly matches the rhythm Danta provides to his own cock. Hands squeeze at his hips, growling his approval with a breathy and sultry “make a mess, darling.” because he’s most certainly not lasting long himself either. And remembering the prior comment, he does withdraw enough to give the Maverick a perfect view.

It's evident in how he doesn’t quite outpace the Maverick (unsurprisingly), not as he gasps out a sound of Danta’s name amongst a colorful variety of curses, head tilting back, burying himself as deep as he can as the tether snaps within him and he cums hard, hand snaking and trembling up the other man’s spine to his blonde hair, twisting his fingers in the golden strands.

Astaroth

// as long as everyone you need is stepping in line, you are camouflaged //

// you knew who I was //

Danta doesn't have to be told twice, and especially not by Asta; usually contrary to the point of his own detriment, this time he complies all too eagerly. His hips roll hard against the other man's, the hand not gripping his own cock slipping from around Asta's shoulders to grasp his jaw, even as his head is tugged back by the fingers in his hair. They both cum hard, pain mingling with pleasure in a way that feels almost like worship, and with his mind dissolving into static bliss and his limbs fizzing weightlessly with the force of his orgasm, Danta is good for precisely fucking nothing for a good few seconds and then some.

Panting hard and jealously wanting to claw back to the minutes before so he might enjoy them all over again, his head tips forward against Asta's forehead, and the grip against the butcher's jaw grows softer, fingers grazing across his cheeks and lips. "Fuck," he whispers eloquently, the word nearly formed around a breathless laugh. "I love the way you fuck me. Gods, I'm going to be sore, though."

Dantalion

// with every step that I ran to you //

// as long as there's bread and as long as there's an appetite //

His head doesn’t dip back as far as he would have intended the second warm fingers grasp his jaw, keeping him relatively pinned as the curses slip from his lips and they both fall apart. It’s with gasps of breath and trembling limbs, toes and fingers that feel tingly with static and a hazy comfort glimmering in his dark gaze as he blinks through the haze, pulled forward and loosening the touch of Danta’s blonde through his fingers enough to cup the back of his neck – both of their foreheads meeting as he sucks down breath after breath, letting his fingers trace along his cheeks and lips.

A huff of a breathy laugh is offered in response, his head tilting slightly to press a soft kiss to fingers that he would have nipped at seasons ago. “That was entirely intentional, love.” He drawls hoarsely, a new little pet name added into the mix that has never quite fully passed by his lips previously. Too numb and blissful in his head to even think about it before it’s slipped out, he doesn’t dwell on it as he noses his way in for a proper kiss, the hand at Danta’s hip smoothing up his spine while the one at the back of his neck trails down, massaging little patterns into the other man’s back.

Astaroth

// as long as everyone you need is stepping in line, you are camouflaged //

// you knew who I was //

"You know, I thought it might have been," Danta says through a breathy laugh, letting his hands drop to wind loosely around the other man's shoulders as their lips meet. As kisses go this one lacks the usual hunger and passion afforded by lust and impatience, though the Maverick does start to see stars at the edge of his vision at one point (it's because he's forgotten he needs to breathe). Love - he's sure he's heard it, but the touch of the butcher's hands is too warm and too comfortable, and the faint taste of iron on their lips too enticing to dwell on it any further.

His tail curls to snag around one of Asta's wrists as he's forced to part for breath, the Maverick panting softly and letting his fingers tease through the other man's dark hair. "You're going to have to give me a couple of minutes," he warns him playfully. "I'm not sure I can stand right now."

Dantalion

// with every step that I ran to you //

// as long as there's bread and as long as there's an appetite //

It’s softer, gentler, alongside the hidden possessiveness that doesn’t quite have the fire as it had before. Astaroth also ends up with a darkening static around the edges of his vision, though he says nothing about it and does nothing about it until Danta’s parting. Hand easily snagged by the Maverick’s tail, the butcher pants for breath, completely having not realized what terms have slipped past his loosened lips.

And instead he sits there, letting the Theocrat's fingers run through his dark hair, passing over the sharp edge of his horns as his dark gaze focuses fully on the bright blues of Danta’s, the way the firelight turns his hair into golden strands of liquid fire. His comment sparks a rumbling chuckle from his lips, a knowing and cocky smirk gracing his bearded face. “As if I had any other plans past this, darling.” He drawls in that same tone, a touch too arrogant. His not softly bound hand lifts to cup the blonde Ancient's jaw, lifting his head slightly to inspect the reddening marks, dragging his thumb softly across the bruises that will certainly be there the next morning. “I did not intend to place those so visibly. I apologize” His hoarse voice drawls, dark eyes lifting to seek out Danta’s gaze for his reaction.

Astaroth

// as long as everyone you need is stepping in line, you are camouflaged //

// you knew who I was //

"Ah, you always know just what to say," Danta croons - no plans other than to allow the Maverick to recover in his lap? And they say LongNight is a terrible time. Tilting his head to allow the other man whatever examinations he wants to make, Danta busies himself in placing a sneaky braid through the back of Asta's hair around his horns, humming a note of surprise as the butcher speaks. "What part of me looks as though I hide any treasures left on my skin?" he inquires with a languid smirk.

Leaning in to nip gently and playfully at the other man's lower lip, Danta narrows his eyes at Asta. "Besides," he says, "I'm not all that sure your apology is sincere." With a dark laugh, the Maverick can at least try to lean across to the butcher's bedside table, fumbling for anything - a hand towel, a box of tissues - to clean them both up, since he's still not ready to test his feet on the ground.

Dantalion

// with every step that I ran to you //

// as long as there's bread and as long as there's an appetite //

The croon is met with a knowing grin, a bounce of his brows as if to prove the point further. Perhaps he’d spent plenty of time crafting just what to say at the right time, but here at this present moment, the butcher has managed to be both honest and utilizing the cards, content to keep Danta precisely where he wants him, still in his lap with his arms wound around him as if that was the only thing he cared about.

(We’re not going to look into that too deeply, obviously.)

“None, however…” He trails off because he doesn’t have a good answer to that question. A subconscious part of him seems to say because it’s from me as if that made the entire difference, but that would be admitting things the butcher doesn’t even recognize within himself as anything out of place.

Snorting, because he’s effectively cut off from any follow through with the nip to his lower lip, Astaroth twists just enough to help Danta reach into the bedside table, where there certainly would be a couple of hand towels stashed away, while he parts from Danta’s chest just enough to give him enough room to clean them both up. “How might I make it come across more sincere?” He teases, dark eyes focusing intensely on the other man’s face.

Astaroth

// as long as everyone you need is stepping in line, you are camouflaged //

// you knew who I was //

Raising his eyebrows at Asta's however, luckily the butcher is saved by Danta's own chaotic nature, and he's soon distracted by the task of cleaning them up and relishing the delicious ache that has started to settle in his hips and lower back. Once he's finished he tosses the towel over his shoulder - maybe towards the fire, maybe on the floor, maybe to a laundry basket, who knows - and lets his arms rest warmly around the other man's shoulders once more.

"You could start by kissing them better," he informs him haughtily, chin lifted just enough to allow Asta to do just that. And really, the correct response after that is to not do it again, but he neither thinks the butcher is capable of it, and nor does he truly want that for either of them. So instead, he follows up with, "And then you can find us some wine to drink."

Dantalion

// with every step that I ran to you //