drink 'til you choke

Astaroth

// so sip the gossip, drink 'til you choke. sip the gossip, burn down your throat //

Her Butcher has a lovely ring to it, and it lingers in the crevices of the Butcher’s mind as he descends back over his lover, stealing a kiss briefly before he’s commenting on it. “Lucky for you, she told me I should go and explore the new abilities at my disposal.” Which means that he’s assuming she won’t be calling on him the second he’s come back home and that she might be willing to give him a little bit of time to wrap his mind fully around the entire ordeal.

Or to lose himself for a while in the Maverick and the comforts of their room, far away from the chill of the snowy outside world. Either way, the Butcher focuses back in when Danta’s head tips back and he chuckles, the birthday gift subject one that Asta isn’t entirely sure he can handle having more surprises today. So it’s with a hot breath of a laugh that rakes across his fiance’s collarbones that he draws his attention up, dark eyes soaking in the sharp panes of the blonde Ancient’s face briefly before the Maverick is stealing another kiss and blessedly helping him to rid himself of his attire.

The belt slips away with a quiet sigh and Asta situates himself to brace over the Maverick with both arms now, one curved down to plunge into his golden crown. He can’t stop the hitch of his breath as Danta palms him, the nip to his lower lip only flushing him more and making the task of removing his pants that much more difficult. Still, though, the Butcher surges back down and steals his own greedy kiss, fingers tugging at the blonde strands of hair, hips shifting just enough to help shimmy out of the pants the second Danta does get them unfastened.

And before they know it, the Butcher’s just as he would have been in their bed had their goddess not called for him. He breaks the kiss to straighten up a little, to take his time in watching the Maverick come to life beneath him as one hand wraps around his thigh and the other trails a tantalizing touch down his chest in a very clear path that ends with his fingers stroking along Danta’s length and watching for the reaction. He may or may not be taking his time with this, but he feels like he deserves it.

// you're not iconic, you are just like them all. don't act like you don't know //

when I was a child I heard voices, some would sing and some would scream

"I'll join you. Exploring is more fun with two," Danta murmurs into their kiss with a crooked smile; how he chooses to explore the other man's abilities might be deemed unconventional, but rest assured he'll be thorough. He shifts his hips to allow for Asta to shimmy out of his pants, a laugh escaping on a sigh of warm breath, until they are finally exactly as they should be. Still, if ever the Butcher had a good reason to sneak out of bed in the middle of the night, it's this.

Sinking back into the plush softness of their bed as Asta straightens up, Danta needs no encouragement to rise to the occasion, not with his lover backlit by the pale morning light as he is, crowned in obsidian, as regal and enticing and seemingly untouchable as he's always been. Only now he's been kissed by the divine, and the thrill of it as much as the touch of his lover's hands has his back arching up, cock twitching hard in his grip.

"Fuck," he almost whispers, tipping his head back and closing his eyes as if to better focus on Asta's teasing strokes. "I should have known you'd want to tease me." And it doesn't sound as if he minds it one bit.

The Maverick

you soon find you have few choices, I learned the voices died with me

Astaroth

// so sip the gossip, drink 'til you choke. sip the gossip, burn down your throat //

“So true, darling.” The Butcher’s agreement comes without a second of hesitation, pressed into the Maverick’s mouth alongside the kiss that harbors all the promise and desire in it that he finds he needs. But it also gives him all the time in the world to focus, to get out of the clothes still tinged with the air of the Climb and the cold, until he’s precisely as he should be between his fiance’s legs, all olive skin and scars (and a new one in the shape of Dygra’s perfect lips).

The light of the morning is faint as it blankets his back, but it’s there enough to let his shadow blanket the Maverick, unmovable and without the mischief and smiling face it otherwise had, safe at last again from Asta’s Haunt. But he doesn’t focus on that, not with the other Ancient looking as though he’s ready to be ravished, and the Butcher fully inclined to do such a thing.

His fingers stroke along Danta’s length in that teasing, testing yet attentive movement he often did, unable to hide the lilt of the smirk that blooms on his face as his dark eyes drink him in. “You should have known, yes. We are celebratinggg.” His voice drips with equal accent and mischief, cheshire and amused as he curves back over his fiancé, propped up by one hand. His dark hair sweeps forward, nearly long enough now to brush against Danta’s chest where he presses a kiss and reaches for Danta’s leg to tug him a bit closer, pressing in against him until he’s snagging both of their lengths in a stronger grip, stroking them together a little faster than his teasing touch had been.

// you're not iconic, you are just like them all. don't act like you don't know //

when I was a child I heard voices, some would sing and some would scream

"Well, when you put it like that," Danta says through a distracted smile, the Maverick forcing his eyes to stay on Asta rather than risking a hungry glance down the length of their bodies. "You can celebrate with me all day if you want." His laugh is breathless, hitching as he's tugged down a fraction and the Butcher descends over him. Reacting automatically by curling an arm around the other man's shoulders, he sweeps the dark silk of his hair back out of his face just as the grip around his cock grows tighter with the press of Asta's arousal to join it, causing his fingers to flinch.

A low whimper escapes Danta's throat quite without his permission, his grip tightening in the back of the Butcher's hair. "Fuck, I love it when you touch me," he whispers, legs hooking more tightly around his lover's hips as if to try and encourage further friction between them, whether it's by Asta's hand or the rest of his body.

The Maverick

you soon find you have few choices, I learned the voices died with me

Astaroth

// so sip the gossip, drink 'til you choke. sip the gossip, burn down your throat //

“Mm, like music to my ears.” He purrs to Danta’s breathless laugh, one that sparks Asta’s twitch of a cheshire smile that blooms on his face. Today was a day where he fully intends on exploring everything Dygra has changed, to realize the gifts he’d received, and to fully indulge in what remains. And with the warmth of Dygra’s veins still pumping through him, he’s bolstered even more to sharing with his fiancé.

The sweep of Danta’s hands winding around him is warm and steadying, just as Asta strokes them both at the same time. And to Danta’s low whimper, a deep hum leaves him with the combination of it and the tightening of the fingers in his hair. His cock throbs against the Maverick’s, tugged and beckoned closer to let a hot kiss press to the hollow of his fiance’s cheek, angling himself back for the other Ancient’s lips. “Good.” He purrs, lips brushing against his before he snatches a kiss and his pace with his hand increases for a fraction more before he’s adjusting them again.

Just so much that he can curve and press himself further against Danta to offer that friction he wants, while also angling himself to fill him with a growled groan poured into his lover’s mouth.

// you're not iconic, you are just like them all. don't act like you don't know //

when I was a child I heard voices, some would sing and some would scream

Just you wait, Danta might have said if his senses weren't so thoroughly scrambled. If Asta wants music then he'll serenade him right up to the point of no return, the Maverick rolling his hips against his lover's hand as if he might tease him into losing a fraction more composure. He's rewarded with the heat of his lips against his cheek, at least, and as those same lips find his own, Danta moans greedily into his mouth just as the pace against his cock grows tighter and faster.

"Fuck--" Cut off by the way Asta reduces the distance between them to nothing but delicious heat and pressure, Danta drinks in the groan poured into his mouth, rewarding the brief loss of composure with tongue and teeth and the taste of iron. "More," he begs through a whisper, arched against the other man as if he might get somehow closer than this. "I want to feel all of you."

The Maverick

you soon find you have few choices, I learned the voices died with me

Astaroth

// so sip the gossip, drink 'til you choke. sip the gossip, burn down your throat //

Oh he can already tell that Danta’s intending on serenading him. Between the sounds already slipping past his lover’s lips, he gladly swallows down the moan that escapes him as he sinks lower onto him, as if he might be able to get into his skin if he tries hard enough. The kiss deepens with everything that sparks heat to the butcher’s body, zeroing in and focusing on the tinge of iron that floods through and the sharpness of teeth and fangs – and at this point, it could be either of theirs that sparked it as far as he knows.

Danta knows precisely the things that get the Butcher in motion, though, with the begged whisper and the arch of his back, Asta is helpless to ignore it. “You will, darling.” He promises, the tone of his voice thickly accented, a vow made true with the way the hand that had propped him up curves so he can plunge his fingers into golden strands, tugging at them a little sharply at the same time he finally lines them up and wastes zero time in sinking in as deep as he can, his body shivering with delight and restraint.

The shakiness of the restraint in him is evident in his tail the most, where it wraps around Danta’s legs to hook him there, anchoring as the Butcher picks a pace and dives in for another bloody kiss, riled up enough to not care where his sharp teeth land.

// you're not iconic, you are just like them all. don't act like you don't know //

when I was a child I heard voices, some would sing and some would scream

It's Danta's blood that brings that first, sweet hint of iron into the air, and the Maverick might have said as much if Asta had truly wanted to know. Luckily for them both, perhaps, they are too preoccupied with one another for conversation, and as the Butcher takes him properly at last it drives the breath fully from his lungs, leaving him uncharacteristically silent with the overwhelming bliss of it. Of course, Danta being Danta, that doesn't last very long.

His groan of pleasure is half lost in the way Asta's mouth seals against his own, and this time he's not so certain whose lips and tongue are painting the kiss red, but already it has stopped mattering. His body moves with his lover's almost of its own accord, his hand tangling further into Asta's hair until he can grip at the base of one of his obsidian horns, as if he might be able to use the leverage to further his own ecstasy.

"No one fucks me like you," he whispers through a snatch of breath, meaning every word of it. No one else leaves the same proprietary marks of fingertips and teeth, no one else dances that thin line between bliss and certain death the way Asta does. And Danta will fall with him from those heights every time, caring little for the chaos they might leave in their wake.

The Maverick

you soon find you have few choices, I learned the voices died with me

Astaroth

// so sip the gossip, drink 'til you choke. sip the gossip, burn down your throat //

This close, the mess of blood is impossible to see. This closely intertwined with the Maverick, the sting of pain from either one of their fangs or nips are barely able to be felt over the bliss of Danta wound around him. He moves against the Butcher perfectly, and for as much chaos as Danta embodies, they’re perfectly in sync and aligned with each thrust of the butcher’s hips.

His fingers tighten in the Maverick’s hair, blunt fingernails scraping against the small space under the chipped diamond horn, and as his lover grips the base of one of his horns, Asta’s appreciation for it is groaned into Danta’s mouth.

The break of breath doesn’t slow the Butcher’s hips any, if anything, it makes it a fraction more punishing, knowing it would be well received. “Because you’re mine.” It’s possessive and greedy, and bolstered by Asta’s free hand slipping up under his lover’s lower back and digging in fingerprint bruises where he helps him keep that angle, driving harder and harder into him and losing the edge of teasing focus he’d had before.

// you're not iconic, you are just like them all. don't act like you don't know //

when I was a child I heard voices, some would sing and some would scream

Despite the cold season, for a moment Danta feels the fever of Leafchange between them all over again, and it's enough to bring colour to his cheeks and to have him surrendering all the more to every slam of the Butcher's hips. "I am," he moans, hissing in a satisfied breath at the fingers that bruise against his lower back, clutching more tightly at the base of Asta's horn. "Always."

And you're mine, he might have added if the sudden, brutal pace and the perfect angle of their bodies hadn't set him alight, some dark and perfect pleasure coiling tightly at the base of his spine. "Fuck," he gasps out, blood dripping from his chin and the world starting to fizz at the edges. "Fuck, Asta--"

Danta cums without much more warning than that, his lover's name leaving his lips like a plea or a prayer, ecstasy erupting through him and stealing his breath and his senses along with it. He forgets how to breathe, how to think, lost in each cresting wave of his orgasm and left entirely at the Butcher's mercy.

The Maverick

you soon find you have few choices, I learned the voices died with me

Astaroth

// so sip the gossip, drink 'til you choke. sip the gossip, burn down your throat //

The tighter grip at the base of his fire obsidian horn has him trembling again, paired with the answer that boosts his ego even further than he thought possible with the news of the day, the Butcher growls out a sound akin to a promise that Danta would always be his. It’s a sentiment that can be reflected too, with the fact of the matter being that Asta could never imagine himself with anyone else, least of all like this without the Maverick.

Each punishing thrust is met with tension he can feel creeping through his lover’s body, through the twitch of his shoulders and the way he arcs against him. His fingers bruise further, changing position just enough to litter Danta with the little spots of darkened skin once this is all over, but it’s pure delight and possessiveness that overtakes the Butcher to hear Danta’s voice in those deliciously broken moans and gasps.

Luckily, he isn’t far behind him, between the entirety of the ascension with Dygra and Asta’s typical exhaustion this season, and when he feels the tether of his climax begin to snap, it’s all he can do to growl out more promises and pleasure. “My darling Dantalion–” is all he’s really capable of when he drives himself deep into the other man as he cums, panting and breathless but still managing to litter Danta’s cheek and shoulder and throat with ruby kisses of his own, body alight with tingling and the brief flicker of ghoulish green flame that crests through his hair and skitters along Danta’s hand in its own lover’s caress.

// you're not iconic, you are just like them all. don't act like you don't know //

when I was a child I heard voices, some would sing and some would scream

Danta feels every lingering touch like a brand he's proud to receive, and he'll be sure to wear those bruises with just as much pride and ego as soon as his mind reorders itself into something capable of rational thought. The fire that warms his fingers in Asta's hair is ghoulish and beautiful, seen only through the periphery of the Maverick's hooded gaze, and he feels the crimson kisses the other man paints against his face as a distant pleasure, one that takes a necessary backseat to the aftershocks of bliss that pulse through his body.

For the longest time, it feels, it's just the thunder of two heartbeats and the soft sound of panting breath, Danta having closed his eyes properly and surrendered himself to his other senses for a bit. His fingers loosen in Asta's hair at last, trickling through the dark strands to ghost along the back of his neck and down between his shoulders, clasping there to keep him close. His other hand drifts upwards to cup the other man's cheek, and before he knows it, Danta is laughing breathlessly.

"I think you broke something," he whispers, sounding thoroughly amused by the fierce ache in his hips and the deep satisfaction that lingers there. "Do it again later?"

The Maverick

you soon find you have few choices, I learned the voices died with me

Astaroth

// so sip the gossip, drink 'til you choke. sip the gossip, burn down your throat //

It’s that tingling static that bolsters the Butcher as he starts to concede into it, draped over the Maverick as he is, fire extinguished and far more comfortable than he has any right to be. The blood has begun to dry, and they’re both quite a mess that would need either a shower or a fire bath to rid themselves of, but for now the Butcher is content to sit here and hold Danta close.

His tail reluctantly loosens its hold around his lover’s legs, sweeping across the bed but with less vigor than it might have had, had his fyrhund shift still been in his soul. As it turns out, even Dygra hadn’t thought that the shift accurately described his soul shift as much as the Feirw has become. Still, he shivers lightly to feel Danta’s fingers trail down his dark hair along his neck and back and he shifts just enough to wrap both of his arms around Danta’s head, propping his chin up on his fiance’s chest to look up at him with satisfied dark eyes.

“Is that so?” He asks, fingertips playing with the ends of the longest portion of his golden hair, managing a small, bloodstained smirk. He’d gladly do it again later whenever Danta was up for it, with zero qualms over it in fact. “I had to see what I was capable of as a fresh demigod, of course.” He waggles his brows playfully, before he’s tilting his head to press another kiss to his collarbone.

// you're not iconic, you are just like them all. don't act like you don't know //

when I was a child I heard voices, some would sing and some would scream

Whatever they need to do later can wait - it might be the morning but to say Danta could easily doze for another couple of hours after that is an understatement, and he'll need at least a few more minutes tangled up with his lover before he even considers trying to move. (And to check if he really has pulled a muscle or fractured something, which - incredible job to Asta if so). "Mmmmhm," he says, riding the confirmation out on a sigh as the Butcher arranges himself atop him, leaving Danta gazing down at the other man with a pleased little smile.

"You did seem stronger," he purrs, leaning into the fingers twining through his hair as if to search out Asta's hand to sneak kisses to the inside of his wrist. "And more vigorous, if I do say so myself." Winking, the Maverick relaxes into the bed again and lets his arms relax around his fiance, relishing the heat that ripples off his bare skin.

"Maybe we'll have to do some training and see what else is up your sleeve from now on."

The Maverick

you soon find you have few choices, I learned the voices died with me