nothing is as simple

// i've got a lot to show for the time you're gonna lose //

The party begins to wane, filled with a variety of drinks and scorched (but mostly raw) meats, gifts strewn about for the Maverick that haven’t got touched yet. In fact, with the help of the spirits (he figures) the gifts have all arrived in their room. Which is a welcome enough surprise that the butcher doesn’t have to worry about trying to corral them all in here. The only thing he does have to try and corral is the man of the hour.

Which, given Frey’s earlier appearance, there’s very little that he has to do in order to whisk him away. A prolonged kiss of promise here and there, the guiding yet gentle touches to his sides, the departure happens slowly but it’s all for the crescendo that awaits. The halls are dark as they slip through and Asta can’t go a second without his hand somewhere on Danta — settling for his hip as he unlocks the door for them both to step into. “Have you enjoyed the festivities so far, darling?” The butcher asks, glancing sidelong at his lover to see what he thought.

Their room is beautifully macabre, though laden with gifts and all the charm of knives and the like,all of it coming to life as he drags the fireplace up into properly heating their room to a sweltering heat that would long remain in the walls upon their departure. Tonight, though, tonight is theirs and he is Danta’s entirely.

Astaroth

// by the time i go, i'll tear you up in two //

quietly, it slips through your fingers, love

"Oh, very much so," Danta purrs, kept steady by Asta's arm around him and by the anchoring hand against his hip, lest he go tumbling back down the flight of stairs they've just ascended. He'd noticed the plethora of wonderful gifts at the time - the crown jewel being sex!Frey themselves in all their Astaroth glory - but it's been a few drinks since then, and he'll be sure to be equally as amazed by their presence in the bedroom tomorrow.

For now, though, and perhaps understandably so, his attention is all for the butcher as he clicks open the door to their room. "Shame that Flora disappeared," he says, having noticed their hostess being notably absent when they'd been saying their goodbyes. "We'll have to thank her properly in the morning."

In the morning being the operative word, Danta kicking the door shut behind them and humming his soft approval as heat ripples through the room, kissing against his skin and causing him to melt a little harder against the butcher. "Did you?" he asks belatedly. Enjoy the festivities, he means.

Dantalion

fallin' from you, drop by drop

// i've got a lot to show for the time you're gonna lose //

Unlocking the door and stepping in so he can ensure Danta’s along with him, the butcher’s dark gaze slides over toward his lover. “Truly.” He agrees about Flora’s absence on the air of a slightly buzzed yet dramatic whine. “I am sure she will not mind the belated gratitude.” Why would she, after all?

But the butcher catches on the time frame Danta’s offering, one that has his lips quirking slightly in anticipation. The door is kicked shut by the Maverick’s heel and Asta’s drawing Danta closer to the heat of the flame as he melts against his side, soaking in the warmth that begins to radiate. The question has a low chuckle escaping him, his arm sweeping against Danta’s lower back as he begins to corral him toward their bed.

“Oh I most certainly did, darling.” He purrs. Truthfully, the butcher was entirely banking on Danta’s reaction for it all. And seeing just how delighted his lover was influenced the butcher’s opinions on the events tenfold. Even if they hadn’t gotten to the gifts yet. Instead, they step around them easily as they spill over from the pile they’ve become (toppling slightly by the brushing of his tail that sent one spiraling down that hit a couple of others on the path).

Asta doesn’t care much, though, because he’s pulling Danta in front of him toward the foot of their bed, walking him back until his back pressed against the post of their bed, his hands already seeking out the Maverick’s skin beneath his lovely attire, leaning in to snag a chaste kiss that leaves his head close enough to Danta’s that his voice is a low thrum of his accent when he speaks. “Now for the rest of the night, I am yours to play with, my Wasp.”

Astaroth

// by the time i go, i'll tear you up in two //

quietly, it slips through your fingers, love

"Oh, I bet she won't," Danta says through a quiet laugh; he'd not quite had the words to express his gratitude to Flora when his blindfold had been whisked away from his eyes earlier, but he'll be sure to find them later. For now, as he's ushered towards their bed, his fingers are already doing their best to untuck Asta's shirt and unfasten any buttons he comes across, keen to feel the heat of the butcher's body as well as the warmth rippling through the air around them.

"Good," he purrs in reply, the word huffed out as his back hits the bedpost, tail flicking in anticipation. Though when Asta delivers nothing more than a soft, chaste kiss to his lips, the Maverick can't help but tug at the other man's shirt a little too hard, sending the last couple of buttons popping off and scattering to the ground. "Oops," he mutters, not sounding at all apologetic for it.

Leaning in to steal the response from Asta's mouth with a much hungrier kiss, his hands slip into the ruined shirt and against warm, scar flecked skin, Danta doing his best to relay his desires with tongue and teeth and the press of his body against the butcher's. "And if I'm the one who wants to be played with?" he whispers, grinning.

Dantalion

fallin' from you, drop by drop

// i've got a lot to show for the time you're gonna lose //

Danta’s fingers are well versed in the form of getting the butcher out of his clothes, and this time is no exception. By the time he gets him back against the bedpost, his shirt is untucked and half unbuttoned, leaving the heavy ropes of scar tissue on full display and his vest lost somewhere on the floor in the journey it took to get here.

It's teasing and playful if not a touch honest — if Danta wanted the reins tonight he’d hand them over — but it seems they both get their wish with the insistence of Danta’s tugging that shoots the buttons off the rest of his shirt with mocking plinks across the wood floor, rising with a low rumble of a laugh from the butcher. He has half a mind to remind Danta of his favorite tailor lest he ruin more of his shirt, but his mouth is occupied shortly after Danta speaks.

The hungrier kiss is met with equal fervor, at least, the butcher drowning himself in the wine soaked taste of his lover as his tail winds around Danta’s leg and the base of the bedpost, pinning him there rather than his arms which are certainly injecting him with all the heat and attention he wants. “Then it would be my honor to play with you, darling.” He purrs out, pressing in closer to press his body to Danta’s a little harder. His hands sweep up to drag and tear away the sheer golden too large shirt from his torso, diving in with a kiss that’s sure to nick one of them and increase the heat that’s already blooming in him.

Astaroth

// by the time i go, i'll tear you up in two //

quietly, it slips through your fingers, love

Luckily for Asta, Danta is already well aware of his favourite tailor - it's why he's so confident in yanking at the threads and seams of his clothing despite the threat that they might break. Like the butcher, though, he's soon lost in the heat of their bodies and the iron that nips through the air from a kiss suddenly tinged with crimson, Danta moaning softly and surrendering to the strength of Asta's grip as his shirt is torn away.

With a breathless laugh to feel the warm air caressing at his bare skin, the Maverick is already at Asta's mercy, hands sweeping up beneath his shirt to push it back and over his shoulders. There's only a heartbeat of distance between them before he's kissing him again, and between them the butcher will already be able to feel the effect he's having on Danta, his body standing to attention in every way it knows how as if that will somehow convince him to eliminate the remaining distance between them.

"You always feel so good," he whispers, like it isn't fair, or like Asta is cheating somehow by being so irresistible.

Dantalion

fallin' from you, drop by drop

// i've got a lot to show for the time you're gonna lose //

Whatever’s destroyed tonight can likely be fixed, so it’s with very little upset that the butcher pulls away his lover’s clothes with an equal amount of greediness that the Maverick tears his own off. It gets lodged around his shoulders, which requires him to unfortunately pull his hands away – keeping his tail wrapped around Danta’s leg and the bedpost so that at least there’s that keeping him there so he can fully slip out of his shirt and leave his torso free and open for Danta’s hands to roam to his hearts content.

The whisper is met with a low laugh from the butcher as he crowds back in, hands sweeping down the length of his sides, following over the curves of ribs and the jut of his hips, thumbs poking in the hollows of his hips before his fingers dip beneath the other Ancient’s waistband. “Do I?” He prods playfully, lips coated with a faint sheen of crimson before he’s diving in to leave little red kisses along his neck and shoulder. “Which part of me do you like the best, darling?” He drawls playfully, wondering if it’s something he’s capable of flaunting more of just to drive the Maverick wild.

Astaroth

// by the time i go, i'll tear you up in two //

quietly, it slips through your fingers, love

A soft, dark laugh escapes Danta's throat as he finds himself still trapped against the bedpost when Asta is forced to create a fraction of distance between them, the Maverick raising his eyebrows at the other man in playful challenge, as if to ask if the butcher truly thinks he plans to go anywhere right now. Stripped to the waist and with his pants mostly unbuttoned, his arousal painfully apparent even at a passing glance, he's clearly exactly where he wants to be.

A fact made all the more evident when Asta crowds back into his space, Danta's fingers curling gently through the back of his dark hair, a warm hand pressing to his scarred chest. "You're asking for a lot if you think there's part of you I like more than the rest," he whispers, head tipping to the side, eyes shutting to fully focus on the hot, copper-spiked kisses trailing against his throat.

"I will say, though," he adds, the corner of his mouth kicking up in a mischievous smile, body arching against Asta's as if to persuade him to kick his teasing up a notch, "I do love to hear you enjoying yourself. Especially when I know you're trying to keep quiet."

Dantalion

fallin' from you, drop by drop

// i've got a lot to show for the time you're gonna lose //

It’s all a part of the dance they do, the playful way Asta only grants attention to Danta’s arousal infrequently at first, focusing instead on all the other ways he can wind and rile him up. It’s now as he crowds in that he grants that fleeting attention, lips trailing along his jaw and neck and shoulder as his fingers slip into his waistband, sliding with ease toward the button to unbutton.

The press of his hand into his dark hair has a soft hum escaping him, the hand at his scarred chest warm enough to spur more heat under Asta’s skin. It’s a slight flush to his cheeks that reddens it. “I am a king of asking for a lot, you know.” He purrs the whisper as Danta takes the matters into his own hands, arcing against him like a heated live wire with all the thrums of ego stoking he knows how to do so well.

“Mm, well, I was not intending on keeping quiet tonight, but if it helps—” Asta pauses, his tongue dancing out to trail a hot line along his lover’s shoulder and neck as he refrains from tugging down the other Ancient’s pants to instead palm him. “—I can try to be.”

Astaroth

// by the time i go, i'll tear you up in two //

quietly, it slips through your fingers, love

"You're a king of so much more than that," Danta says through a huff of laughter, fingers tightening ever so slightly in the back of Asta's hair like he can persuade his lips to remain against his throat even while the rest of his body gets up to its usual mischief. His own tail coils around the butcher's calf, squeezing tight, and a soft gasp escapes his lips at the hot line of fire his tongue paints against his neck.

"Not too quiet though," he adds breathlessly, the words half caught in a broken moan to feel the sudden heat and pressure against his still-trapped erection, his cock throbbing hard and his hips rocking into the touch of their own accord. "I wouldn't want people to think you're not enjoying yourself."

They both know Danta doesn't intend to be quiet in any sense of the word, the Maverick's free hand teasing down Asta's chest towards his belt now, tugging it free from the buckle with a mix of skill and impatience. "Please," he whispers, the words little more than a soft breath against the other man's ear, "fuck me like you mean it."

Dantalion

fallin' from you, drop by drop

// i've got a lot to show for the time you're gonna lose //

“Am I?” Asta purrs, pressed to his lover’s neck by the insistence of the hand perfectly in his hair. He presses more kisses to the smooth, faintly scarred skin there from bites he’d left in the past. “It does have a lovely ring to it.” The king portion, that is – all hypothetically. He doesn’t want the responsibility of leading anything. He never has. But the temptation to be called a king in some retrospect blooms in that part of his ego that craves recognition.

Not that he’s lacking at this moment, because he’s very much not. Danta gives it to him any chance he gets, despite the overwhelming fact he most certainly comes second to the Maverick. And while a version of himself years ago would balk at the thought, he can’t imagine any other place he’d rather be.

They jostle as Danta’s hips rock into the butcher’s touch, the laugh he offers warm and low, pressing a kiss to his jeweled ear. “Oh, but of course, darling.” They both know Danta won’t be, though it should come as no surprise given it’s the other Ancient’s birthday party. It’s the cherry on top of a lovely evening. As such, they part ever so slightly, the butcher forcing his head away from Danta’s neck despite any intent to keep his head against his neck.

And just like that, Danta does precisely the thing that the butcher adores – the pleading whisper that Asta can’t help but to give into. It’s a switch up from the slow procession, the way his hands move to deftly finish unbuttoning his pants, tugging them down to leave him bare – one hand rising to cup his jaw as he surges in for a kiss that sparks more blood to bloom between them. His tail unwraps from the bedpost but stays around Danta’s leg as he moves him from the edge of the bed to push him back until he’s surrounded by the silks and furs of their bedding, leaving the butcher standing to shed the rest of his clothes, illuminated by the light of the flame that flickers against his dark hair, horns, and flushed skin. “I always mean it, Dantalion, my love.” He drawls, giving him a bit of a show as the last of the clothes are kicked away, allowing him to descend into the blankets with the Maverick.

Astaroth

// by the time i go, i'll tear you up in two //

quietly, it slips through your fingers, love

Asta surges forward for a kiss that Danta gives willingly, relishing the iron that floods onto his tongue and shifting impatiently for the other man to finish undressing him. He tries to chase the taste of his lips when Asta draws away, however small the distance created between them; left panting and with his mouth still painted crimson, instead of further attention, he's nudged into the decadent splay of furs and silks. Danta kicks away the rest of his clothes and arcs into the cool bedding, fully intending to heat up the sheets before they're finished here, and he watches Asta with lusty, half-lidded eyes as he takes his sweet time in joining him.

"Mm, then fuck me like you need it," he corrects with a devilish little smile, leaning up to meet the butcher halfway when he finally descends into the blankets with him. One of Danta's legs is already hooking around Asta's hips, arms lacing around his neck and across the back of his shoulders, and now it's his turn to kiss bloody marks against the other man's throat, coaxing him closer, all but begging to be taken.

Dantalion

fallin' from you, drop by drop

// i've got a lot to show for the time you're gonna lose //

Now, fucking him like he needs it is something the butcher can absolutely do — even if he can’t get the words out with the way Danta curves up to meet him as he climbs into the bed with him. It’s the perfect connection, the leg wrapped around his hip, the way his arms curl around his neck. Asta’s head tilts slightly to accommodate more space for him to litter his neck with the coaxing press of his siren’s lips.

One hand props up by Danta’s head while the other sweeps in between them, smoothing down the other Ancient’s chest and stomach, ghosting against his hard cock. It’s then that the butcher readjusts them, curling a bit closer to him as he lines him up with his own, a teasing press of the tip of his length that, too, is already proof of his desire between the blood and the fire of having Danta precisely where he wants him. “I do need you, for the record, darling.” The butcher purrs in a deeper accented honey sweet drawl, the hand that had lined them up now moves to Danta’s cock, fingers wrapping around in a tight enough hold to hopefully make the strokes he then does enough that he can draw those beautiful sounds from his lover’s throat. And while he has him distracted like that, he rolls his hips in a slow but testing means, driving himself into the other Ancient with a growl of a groan, holding himself back just enough to make sure Danta’s warmed up.

Astaroth

// by the time i go, i'll tear you up in two //

quietly, it slips through your fingers, love

Caught between the cool silk of the sheets and the living fire of Asta's body, Danta's senses are already overwhelmed with the other man's presence even before one of his wicked hands starts to stray south. Busy and distracted with his attentions against his throat, the butcher will doubtlessly feel and hear it as Danta's breath catches with the sudden brush of fingers against his cock, and he's already lifting his hips and hooking his other leg around Asta's waist as he shifts tantalisingly closer - but not close enough for him, not yet.

The honey-sweet purr of the other man's voice in his ear has a rush of heat flushing his cheeks pink and setting his blood alight, and whatever response the Maverick might have had in mind, whether clumsy or poetic or something in between, it warps into a sudden - and very vocal - moan of pleasure. "Oh, fuck, Asta--" The words are clipped, half whispered against his lover's ear as he takes him, his cock throbbing hard in his skilled grip.

"More," he groans, fire flaring between his fingertips to chase down the butcher's back, as if he can stoke the heat between them to something raw and overwhelming and out of control.

Dantalion

fallin' from you, drop by drop