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Character of the Season
Once known as the Butcher of Whitebrim, he's now The Butcher of Dygra, stepping forward as the first created demigod of the Ancients. There is no question that Astaroth casts an intimidating silhouette. Tall, domineering and dangerous, if looks could kill you'd be dead already, but to get up close and personal with the Grounds' resident cannibal tells a much different story. Dripping with charm and clad in only the finest attire, Asta is a gentleman monster, as polite as they come and committed to his role as security for the Dusklight and those who have earned his loyalty. Be careful of that smile, though - those teeth are sharp.
Congratulations, Asta!
Credits
Court of the Fallen was created in October of 2018 by Odd, Honey, and Crooked.
OG Skinning provided by Kaons, with functionality and many custom plugins made by Neowulf!
// i've got a lot to show for the time you're gonna lose //
There’s satisfaction in the way Danta’s moan escapes him, punctuated and sharp and exactly everything he’d hoped for. Between the overwhelm of the pace of the stroke he’s picked and the way he drives himself into the other Ancient, Asta’s already alight himself. Fire sparks and burns in his gut, a slow burning thread that’s no less intense for the build up.
A (barely) bitten back moan leaves Asta in turn to feel the fire burn down his spine between his shoulder blades, his posture shifting to draw himself up, keeping Danta precisely where he is as he uses his free hand to draw him in closer still, hips picking a rhythm to match that of his occupied hand. It allows him the chance to peer down at his lover — eyes dark and full of heat and desire.
“You look so good like this, darling.” The purr is so thickly accented it’s almost like a growl, his hand flattening on Danta’s chest and sparking fire to curl up to his neck, the kiss of heat flaring against the Maverick’s jaw.
Hiccuping in a breath to feel himself hitched tantalisingly closer, the fire still racing down Asta's spine sputters and flares as Danta's control over it lapses. One of his hands falls back to clutch at the sheets over his head, back arching into every thrust, and it's with that bitten back moan of pleasure still echoing in his ears that he gazes up at the other man, eyes a wild, fey sort of blue in the low light.
"You're not so bad yourself," he whispers, shivering out an exhale and tipping his head back with the telltale rush of flame encircling his throat. It'll singe the silk for sure, but the tang of smoke mingling with the blood and sex in the air will only make it better for Danta. "Gods, fuck me, Asta--"
His free hand presses over the butcher's against his chest, fingers splaying between his own, and he keeps his eyes on the other man as if he might be able to spy the moment he starts to lose himself to the madness of the moment. Already a dark eyed demon above him, dangerously handsome and with crimson on his lips, the Maverick nevertheless knows there's more to this dance yet to come.
Dantalion
fallin' from you, drop by drop
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
// i've got a lot to show for the time you're gonna lose //
Peering down at the Maverick, it’s to the wild flare of heavy lidded vibrant blues, reflecting the fire as it dances both between them and in the fireplace at the foot of their bed. The flame along Danta’s chest curls against his neck, a fiery collar that singes the silk and smokes, burning dimly and easily extinguished despite the very strong distraction his lover makes.
The scent of smoke and iron flood his senses, the faint hints of salt and citrus mixed in take everything in Asta to not lose himself completely in the arcs of the other Ancient’s spine and the way he seems to be waiting for something — something he receives surprisingly quickly. It’s a shift from the butcher, the one that goes from prim, proper, calculating every moment to become something more feral, more spontaneous, a touch janky in the way his hand continues to stroke his lover’s length.
But Danta cages his hand underneath his and Asta’s hips rock into him a touch slower — the opposite of what he’s asking for, but it allows for the butcher to dive down to press against him, trailing those blood smeared kisses along his sternum to the sharp juts of his collarbones, finding a particularly sensitive place to suck a dark mark into that does have him accidentally nicking him with an elongated canine, the flare of blood bringing a new series of darker groans from Asta’s throat. His thrusts get faster, his pulse rabbiting in the side of his neck as he fucks him with an almost new vigor, a pace matched with his hand.
Danta can sense the silk singeing beneath him, his mouth curling in a smile that's wiped away near instantly by the pleasure Asta continues to coax from him, and it's a good thing the butcher retains some modicum of control, because Danta's got no chance at keeping the flames at bay. It's with pupils blown wide and black that he continues to watch the other man do what he does best, though as the snap of Asta's hips slows to something near gentle, a moan of protest begins low in his throat.
It's stolen away, though, to feel the butcher press into him further, and his eyes slip shut to fully embrace the soft fire of bloodied lips against his skin. Gasping a note of need and near ecstasy as fresh blood springs to the surface, suddenly Asta is moving against him like something feral, Danta all but clinging to him even as the work of his hips and his hands all but drag him to the brink.
"I'm gonna cum--" It's less warning and more praise sung out into the space between them, his cock throbbing hard in the butcher's grip, and barely a second or two later Asta's name breaks from Danta's lips as something both sacred and unholy. Pleasure rocks through him as if it's holding him hostage, seizing the breath in his lungs and setting his fingers flinching against the other man's back, hard enough to leave small, crescent kisses in his skin by the time he comes back to himself.
Dantalion
fallin' from you, drop by drop
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
// i've got a lot to show for the time you're gonna lose //
He can hear the protest start and he swiftly ends it with the way he descends. He lets his lips map line up his chest and collarbones, the spark of blood the last veil before the butcher finds himself crashing through it. This close he can hear each and every quiet gasp and loud moan, making even more fire blossom in his gut. Not that he really needs the help, the sheer look and feel of Danta like this is enough.
Panting into his skin, the butcher’s about to respond when Danta breaks and Asta shivers with it, praise slipping from his lips as he uses the bliss of the aftermath to help him ride it out to bring the butcher to the edge and spill over, too. In the end it’s the crescents in his skin already blooming a reddish hue and the pressure that have him succumbing, Danta’s own name purring out from his lips as he curls into his lover even more, shifting his attention nearly immediately. He rides it out, but not before the butcher stakes his claim with a greedy kiss of iron and smoke, his tail curling around his lover’s leg while his one hand slips up to curl into Danta’s own above his head in the sheets.
Danta never likes his name more than when it falls from Asta's lips like this, little more than a sigh or a moan against his ear, and as the other man buckles over him, lips crashing against his own, he thinks he understands what true bliss might be. His fingers close around Asta's even as he's half pinned into the sheets, free hand sneaking into the back of his dark locks to hold him there. Only when his lungs start burning their protest does Danta part, panting softly against Asta's mouth and hooking his legs more tightly around his waist with a huff of brattish laughter.
"I love you." He whispers the words almost into another kiss, leaving them sweetly sealed there without any bluster or bravado to cover them. "And I want you, even though I just had you." Chuckling to himself now, Danta blazes a trail of kisses against the corner of Asta's mouth and along his cheek, his hand teasing his dark hair back into some sort of order now. "And I don't think I can let you go," he adds. It's unclear whether it's meant to be endearing or a threat, and knowing Danta, the answer is both.
Dantalion
fallin' from you, drop by drop
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
// i've got a lot to show for the time you're gonna lose //
Shivers bloom goosebumps in rows along his back as Danta’s hand threads through his dark hair. It’s a mess, honestly, strands of black falling out into his face from where it’s been carefully kept back and around his dark antlers. The strands brush against Danta’s golden crown of hair, pressing into the kiss as his pulse continues to race, held there until they’re forced to part with a quiet and deep whine escaping the butcher.
The whisper is one he wishes to reply back to, but he’s caught this time in the trap of his lover’s kiss, soaking it in and pressing back with a fervor to answer with his body rather than his voice. Not that he thinks Danta would mind in the slightest. Even still, his weight drops slightly onto his lover as they adjust again, pulling away and panting to try and catch his breath again. “Then don’t let me go, darling.” He purrs, leaning into each affectionate kiss, his tail tightening as if to prove the point.
“I love you too, Wasp.” He finally settles on, nosing his way in to brush his bearded cheek against Danta’s jaw in a slightly annoying nuzzle. “And perhaps, if you are lucky you might be able to have me again before we leave.” He teases, withdrawing slightly so his dark gaze can take in the flushed appearance of his Theocrat with a wicked grin.
"Oh I won't, don't you worry about that," Danta whispers, humming a note of content as he feels Asta's weight drop further onto him. Once he's satisfied that he's managed to tame the butcher's hair back into some sort of order, he contents himself in fussing over his scarred shoulders and back, scoffing and turning his head away from the obnoxious nuzzling without truly meaning it.
"Mmm, by before we leave do you happen to mean in the morning? Because I can promise I'll be up for that." In more than one way, the Maverick's tail flicking its amusement even if he's still pinned beneath the other man with his legs hooked around him as if worried he'll go somewhere. Eventually, of course, he inevitably starts to relax back into the bed, eyes growing heavy even if his fuss is as attentive as ever.
"Thanks for celebrating with me," he mumbles - though truly, the fact that Danta remembers it was his birthday at all is a miracle at this point.
Dantalion
fallin' from you, drop by drop
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
// i've got a lot to show for the time you're gonna lose //
“Good.” Asta purrs, pressing into the Maverick more as he starts to relax, as his hair finally starts to get into some semblance of an order. The butcher takes this as the prime opportunity to nuzzle in, hearing the scoff and feeling the way Danta turns away from it, allowing for a punctuated kiss just beneath his jeweled ear and the sharp curve of his jaw, before he’s withdrawing only enough to be able to look at his lover.
A breathy laugh leaves him, one that vibrates through his chest where Danta would likely feel it start first. “Yes. That is precisely what I meant.” He hums, his eyes softening with his adoration as he releases the Maverick’s hand he’d pinned into the bed to start brushing the golden strands out and away from his face in return. The moment grows softer, though, one that has him memorizing every lingering detail – from the way their breaths sound against the crackle of the fireplace, the heat that radiates from them and back, the swelter of the room and the presents in his periphery.
Thanks for celebrating with me. Lingers in his mind just the same, too, as if the butcher would ever find himself anywhere else but here. It’s his favorite place to be – whether it’s here in Torchline, in the Dusklight, to the Talism-Inn and the Sparkbird’s Nest. Each and every one of them had Danta in common, even before he could put the pieces together that he loved him. “I would have it no other way, darling.” He waits there for a few moments longer before he's withdrawing, only to pull Danta in against his chest, corralling them into the bed properly and wrapping his arms around him tightly.
"Then you have yourself a deal," Danta purrs, eyes alight with sudden if not sleepy mischief, as if knowing that's a sure way to press one of Asta's buttons. Falling quiet to enjoy the soft brush of lips beneath his ear and the skilled fingers sweeping his hair back from his face, he glances up towards the butcher's face, lips parted as if to say something else, only for it to die on his tongue as he catches himself being watched so reverently.
And the moment calls for nothing more than silence, he realises, his own hand curving around to brush his thumb across Asta's cheek, feeling his face flush quite without his permission. Only when the other man finally speaks and draws back does Danta even remember to breathe, hastily cleaning himself up and collapsing against his chest and into the sheets. "For now let's celebrate in our sleep, mm?" he suggests.
Still nowhere near sober, he has to flap a hand for the blankets a couple of times before finding them, dragging them across their bodies and nuzzling in towards his lover. "Gods, you're comfortable."
Dantalion
fallin' from you, drop by drop
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
// i've got a lot to show for the time you're gonna lose //
Danta’s right, the purred deal does spark a deep enjoyment from the butcher – reflective in the dark voids of his eyes, lit only by the here and there flicker of a flame. He indulges in the gentle touches, the soft diminuendo of the crescendo their night had taken. The softness of which the butcher hardly ever lets anyone else see, except for the very man he keeps pinned precisely where he wants him.
His head tilts into the touch at his cheek, his dark gaze taking in the flush that blooms on his lover’s face that comes from somewhere deeper than that of heated arousal. But the moment is there and gone as the butcher finally releases him so they can finally clamor into bed, cleaned up in the process and slipping under the blankets whether they’re singed or not (they’re Ancients, they’ll be fine).
A hum is the agreement Danta receives in terms of celebrating in their sleep, Asta tugging Danta in once he’s finally settled to feel the weight of him press against his side and chest, leaning in to bury his bearded cheek into the ruffled waves of blond that greets him. “I knew there was more than one reason as to why you loved me.” The butcher playfully purrs, smirking slightly as he settles in and stifles a yawn, letting sleep take them both away for the night of a wonderful celebration.
