ghost towns

/// come close to midnight, hell fade me down
and then my eyes got used to the darkness

He’s more than content to be the temporary lock that keeps Danta’s silver tongue from spilling out his thoughts in the moment - an overt, pressing presence that drowns any retort the Maverick might have with the smooth press of his lips and the smooth swipe of his tongue. If it wasn’t already obvious, the butcher does want him. Wants this to not feel like an apology. Wants it to not feel like he’s restraining his already reserved self just because of the events that had lead up to this point.

But they part and the butcher hears the rough addition to his lover’s voice, the way he arcs his back into him and Asta’s freehand slips around his back, spreading long thin fingers against the smooth warmth of his scarred skin. His nose nuzzles Danta’s as his breath shivers a touch with the hands through his hair, toying and teasing him all the while when he offers a whispered, far more serious answer.

And gods, does Astaroth thrive with it. As if to punctuate the point, the press of his tongue to the fang, with the scarlet kiss, the butcher’s growl is one that vibrates through him, that has the effervescent glimpse of smoky shadows trailing from his shoulders to flitter up into the air like flames of a fire as he surges in.

One hand tugs him closer, the other still between them now stroking his length into fullness as his own pants grow tight with want and desire. A faint flush blossoms across his face, darkening the tips of his ears and his cheeks before he parts from the kiss to trail his lips down an along Danta’s jaw, up to his cheekbone, pressed in against a jeweled ear. “Let me treat you, love.” It’s half a question, half a demand, releasing his lover enough to trail his hands up against his hips and then down as he sinks down in a swift motion to his knees.

Dark eyes blink up at the blonde Ancient, tugging those pants down further until he has complete unrestricted access to Danta's cock, one taken up with his hand shortly after and the teasing press of a hot tongue dragging along the length of it to the tip, all while smoky shadows continue to bleed from his shoulders.

Astaroth

and everyone that i knew,
was lost and so long forgotten after you ///

you were automatic and as hollow as the 'O' in god

Panting softly into the fraction of space that opens between them, it’s with heavily lidded eyes that Danta turns his face into the tantalising brush of Asta’s lips. He swears he can feel the heat burning in the butcher’s cheeks as a warmth on his skin, though it’s increasingly difficult to focus on the sweet nuances of their affection when the other man’s hand has found its way into his pants and is going thoroughly to work.

”How could I say no?” he breathes, though he almost changes his mind when Asta draws away, even though he’s arguably not going far. With fingers loose in his dark hair and his free hand dropping to rest against one of the butcher’s broad shoulders, Danta can’t help but stare as his lover frees him completely from the confines of his clothes.

With smoky shadows unfurling like wings from his shoulders and a hot mouth dragging wicked pleasure with every skilled curl of his tongue, Danta’s fingers tighten quite without his permission, gripping against the tines of one obsidian horn. ”Oh, fuck…” He sighs out the words in time with the unintentional roll of his hips, as if to chase the bliss of his lover’s touch.

Dantalion

/// come close to midnight, hell fade me down
and then my eyes got used to the darkness

He could say no to this, but the butcher finds it very unlikely that he would - or that he’d listen anyway when it came to indulging his lover. That’s why the butcher continues in his descent, dropping to his knees amongst the lush greenery that sprouts from the roots of the tree - likely helped by the ecosystem the Mathair provides. It creates a soft landing, something that doesn’t break his focus as he peers up at Danta.

It was a position he often hated. Especially with how proud he always was to be the tallest in the room, to look down on whomever else he was interacting with. But for Danta — for his little crow, the butcher easily and willingly makes personal concessions. The Maverick’s clothes are lost, cock bared and immediately descended upon with a teasing, focused attention.

Pressure against his horn and in the dark of his hair, paired with the sighed curse bring the corner of the butcher’s lips up in a quirked smirk, the roll of his lover’s hips enough to continue the bliss his mouth provides. One hand tightens against his hip, fingertips digging in to leave perfectly red marks behind when Asta concedes to the other Ancient, tongue flattening out in a quick swipe against the tip of his length, before he takes him completely - careful as possible with his teeth, but incapable of keeping the pleased, vibrating hum from slipping through him into his lover, pushing against the grip of his horn to pick a rhythm that has the smoky shadows pulsing with the movement, like a banner from his shoulders in the wind.

Astaroth

and everyone that i knew,
was lost and so long forgotten after you ///

you were automatic and as hollow as the 'O' in god

Hissing in a breath to feel his lover’s fingers press and bruise against his hips - not that he’s remotely complaining, by the way - Danta stutters out another curse as Asta draws back only to be suddenly all around him again, dragging a rough groan from his throat. The butcher is relentless and it’s about all he can do to hold on, legs threatening to buckle as he braces further against the trunk of the tree behind him.

”Fuck, you feel good,” Danta moans, the words bitten out between huffs of breath, his fingers flexing in Asta’s hair and against the sleek darkness of his horns, his other hand leaving his shoulder and snaking up to find a branch to grip onto. With his tail lashing and curling about the other man wherever it can reach, he has to force himself to focus lest he lose it completely.

”Gods, I won’t last like this—” he grates, feeling that it’s only right to warn the butcher about how good a job he’s doing.

Dantalion

/// come close to midnight, hell fade me down
and then my eyes got used to the darkness

He comes to life beneath him and Astaroth couldn’t be more pleased with the result as he quite literally seems to latch onto whatever he can to keep himself steady - even though the butcher’s sure that he can keep him upright. To the moan that’s bitten out, broken up by the huffs of breath, the butcher’s response is muffled and completely unheard aside from the vibration he sends right into his cock again, feeling Danta’s tail as it curls against his shoulder and neck.

Slowing with the warning, the butcher withdraws - though not far, enough that he can press his bearded cheek to his lover’s thigh, the hand moving from his hip to stroke delicately along the smooth skin of Danta’s tail, a small smirk leaving him as his dark eyes focus up, swathed in rivets of shadows. “So soon, darling?” Comes the playful tease, but one that Asta doesn’t complain about. Not with the intense pressure still trapped within his own pants.

It’s that which has him drawing up again, standing to crowd into Danta’s space, fingers abandoning him only to work at his own belt and pants - though not without claiming another kiss tinged with iron from the press of his own tongue against his sharp teeth.

Astaroth

and everyone that i knew,
was lost and so long forgotten after you ///

you were automatic and as hollow as the 'O' in god

Choking out a soft plea or a curse or something to the equivalent, it’s only as Asta withdraws that Danta is given a second to reel himself back in, to quiet the thunder of chaos and ecstasy already building in the base of his spine. ”Gods,” he whispers, cheeks flushed and eyes hazy as he gazes down at the other man, his tail flicking its approval at the fingers that ghost across its length. ”You only have yourself to blame.”

Luckily the butcher appears to be taking pity on him for a moment, and Danta is ready to catch the other man’s lips in the kiss he seeks out, tasting of iron and blatant desire. One of his arms loops around Asta, accompanied by the curl of his tail, while the other hand drops to assist in unbuckling his belt and teasing away the buttons of his pants until it can slip within to grasp the hard length of his arousal.

”Are you going to make me beg you to fuck me?” he wonders, the lascivious words whispered against Asta’s lips. ”Because we both know I will.”

Dantalion

/// come close to midnight, hell fade me down
and then my eyes got used to the darkness

“Mm, I suppose that is true.” The indifference in his tone seems to suggest that he either doesn’t believe it (false) or that he does truly only have himself to blame and take the ire with. But whatever might follow is completely gone in favor of devouring his lover in a kiss made of passion, desire, and the heavy tang of blood.

As Danta’s arm and tail wrap around him and he finds himself busy with trying to slip open the belt (a surprisingly difficult feat, if he’s being honest) the butcher gladly takes Danta’s help as he withdraws slightly, already panting and pressing a follow up kiss to the hollow of his cheek, down to the crook of his neck just under his ear. The low laugh precursors his words, heavy and thick with his Whitebrim accent, meshed with the finer, more delicate words he’s used to these days.

“I would, however we both know—” a pause as relief finally hits against his trapped cock and the following pressure of Danta’s hand, stuttering his words with a heavy huff of breath and a bit back rumble of a moan, “—it is less fun if I already know how easy it is.” He purrs into Danta’s ear, before he drops to leave gentle, barely there lines with his teeth against the smooth pale column of his lover’s neck. Not unlike a cat scratch, it blots to the surface, met with the butcher’s hot tongue as his shadows flicker and flare in their delight and his cock throbs in Danta’s grip. It’s that moment of pause to reorient himself that hangs before he’s reaching back for his lover, hitching up his leg higher, hoisting him up just enough to position them, giving a moments breath for Danta decide if he does, in fact, want to beg.

Astaroth

and everyone that i knew,
was lost and so long forgotten after you ///

you were automatic and as hollow as the 'O' in god

”Speak for yourself. I find it fun however easy it might be,” Danta whispers, a brief smile kicking up the corner of his mouth. ”Or how hard,” he adds, giving Asta’s cock a firm squeeze to punctuate the statement. Tipping his head to the side as if to properly feel the tiny pricks of the other man’s fangs against his skin, the heat of his tongue and the way his shadows flare with his delight is already enough to have the Maverick wishing he had Asta’s mouth around him all over again.

But there’s much better to come (pun intended), and it’s with a soft huff of breath that he assists to help the other man adjust them, impatiently kicking away his pants so he can hook both legs around the butcher’s waist, his back arching against the tree. And that moment of breath is all it takes for Danta to lean in close enough to drip the words into his lover’s ear. ”Please,” he begs, his hot breath ghosting across his skin. ”Please, gods, fuck me.”

Dantalion

/// come close to midnight, hell fade me down
and then my eyes got used to the darkness

He doesn’t even have a chance to get the breathy laugh to leave him, not at first anyway. Not with the wickedness of Danta’s fingers and how he squeezes his length. The shiver races down his spine, curls into the twitch of red and ash that makes up his tail as he winds it around the other Ancient’s leg.

Wreathed in shadow and smoke, Asta lifts him without too much trouble, hesitating that moment as Danta kicks his pants off. And once he’s fully wrapped his legs around his middle does the butcher withdraw from his lover’s neck and the blood still tinting his lips. Hands smooth and press in against his hips, squeezing and curving enough the long tips of his fingers dig into the hollow of his lower back when he surges in with the begging, the words a glittering gold trove blooming in the haze of his lustful mind.

“Gods, Danta,” He purrs with a moan, one that has his smoky shadows shivering in delight just as goosebumps rise beneath his lover’s lips, pebbling against tanned skin. “You do always make it sound so good.” The grittier praise leaves him, broken up at the end with a greedy growl as he thrusts up and tugs Danta down with the pressure of his hands at his hips, sinking down onto his ready, waiting cock.

The growl burns into a groan, one in the same as one hand abandons Danta’s back for purchase on the tree, not exactly planning on this being one of those slow, beautiful, intimate moments so much as it is a well needed release for them both.

Astaroth

and everyone that i knew,
was lost and so long forgotten after you ///

you were automatic and as hollow as the 'O' in god

Asta enters him at last and Danta rewards him with a soft cry of pleasure and relief, his arms winding around the butcher’s shoulders and his fingers plunging back into his dark hair as he’s pulled down onto his waiting cock. ”It feels even better than it sounds—” he promises, interrupted by his own moan as he arches against the tree trunk and into Asta’s waiting hands, grinding against him. He’s lost for a moment, then, nothing but raw feeling and breathless gasps of air as they move together, as the world shrinks down to the feel of the other man and the way every part of him comes to life in his grip.

Surging forward as if needing to taste his lover’s lips more than the air he breathes, Danta seeks out his lips in a kiss that’s utterly at odds with the way they fuck; soft and unhurried, like they might stay like this all afternoon. Only when he feels his lungs burn does he reluctantly draw back, his tail curling around the butcher’s upper thigh and squeezing hard, as if he might be able to have more of him. ”I love you,” he whispers, sudden and unbidden. It isn’t often that the Maverick is seized by affection in the throes of sex, but gods, he suddenly can’t go without saying it.

Dantalion

/// come close to midnight, hell fade me down
and then my eyes got used to the darkness

Head tilting to accommodate the Maverick’s fingers through his hair, Asta’s wholly focused on the feel of his fingers and the way he tugs him down. The forefront of his mind is wholly primal, indulgent, selfish, feeling the curve of his lover’s back and hanging onto each of the moans and panting breaths that fill the air.

The movement is easy, quick, at odds with the softness of which Danta kisses him. And he concedes, because the second the serenity of peacefulness warms the hollow void of his chest where his heart lingers. It feels like a promise, like the attachment between them doesn’t run just skin deep. Which, he’s known for a while now, but something about the disparity between how the butcher fucks him and the way they kiss, seems to cement the point.

He happily takes the sounds Danta pours into his mouth, offering his own in between, as if they were ultimately the same person. There isn’t a point where the Maverick ends and the butcher begins. They are ouroboros.

His pace slows a touch as his shadows vibrate and flicker, the hold on the leash slowing all the same as he pants in the space suddenly there, hips snapping no less punishingly, but slower now. Dragging and punctuating. And the feel of him with each slower thrust sparks electricity in his veins. “I love you too.” He purrs, voice low and broken up by the way he’s forced to suck in a breath here and there.

“You are perfect.” He shifts slightly, creating a touch more space between their chests but in a perfect way to drive himself deeper while also allocating space for one of his hands to slip in between them, a loose grip around Danta’s cock so that each time he rocks his hips, he strokes his length with the same pace.

Astaroth

and everyone that i knew,
was lost and so long forgotten after you ///

you were automatic and as hollow as the 'O' in god

Wanting, suddenly and recklessly, to be able to run his fingers through the shadows that burst and flicker like wings from the butcher's shoulders, Danta is forced to content himself instead with the dark silk of Asta's long hair and the sharp tines of his horns. His free hand reaches up to grip at one of the tree branches, offering further leverage against the rough thrust of Asta's hips and steadying them, just a fraction, so they might continue to offer sweet nothings in the space between each breathless gasp.

Groaning something primal and needy as the other man's pace slows, even if it's no less hard and punishing for it, Danta's lips part in a silent cry of pleasure to feel Asta's fingers squeeze around his aching cock. It's not enough - not nearly enough - and yet that in itself already has fire crackling at the base of his spine, lighting a fuse that's sure to detonate sooner or later.

"I love it when you fuck me like this," he whispers, just about able to persuade the words to drag out from his throat. He loves the butcher's hands all over him, taking him, possessing him in a way he'd want desperately to escape if it was anyone else. But with Asta it feels right - it feels good, even, and if this is how things ever had to end for Danta, he'd consider it a worthy death and then some.

Dantalion

/// come close to midnight, hell fade me down
and then my eyes got used to the darkness

The shadows might be temptation for the Maverick, but Astaroth’s quite content with indulging in the warm, messiness of Danta’s fingers through his dark hair. He focuses enough to not twist his head into the touch to prick his lover’s hand or arm with the sharp tines of his horns, but that’s about all. He’s busy, after all, drowning himself in the feel and iron tang of the other Ancient. The leverage granted by the tree makes it easier for the butcher to curve into him, the absorb the sweet nothings in each ravaging breath.

Situated as he is now, able to focus completely on Danta’s words and adoration, it’s with eyes heavy and dark with lust but speckled with the dappling of light, that he takes in the Maverick’s love and desire with his tortoise shell gaze, able to find that slow but still brutal pace. “I know you do.” He purrs, the confidence leaking from him with the ease of slipping into an old worn coat. “I love it when you sound like this.” He shifts a little, pace increasing both along Danta’s cock and the snap of his hips.

His lips ghost over his lovers, before he surges down to press them in messy kisses along his jaw and chin. His hand resting against the bark of the tree trunk drops again, digging blunt nails down Danta’s side to his hip, hitching him up closer and needier, drawing himself closer as his tether grows more and more taut, lightning sparking through his bones.

Astaroth

and everyone that i knew,
was lost and so long forgotten after you ///

you were automatic and as hollow as the 'O' in god

Asta's increased pace is enough to drag a rough moan and a sharp gasp from the Maverick, as if Danta is eager to reward him for his efforts with more sweet music. Fingers flinching into the bark of the tree, he finds himself caught in the honeyed shadows of the other man's gaze, even as ecstasy starts to scratch at the back of his throat and flush down the length of his spine. "Fuck, don't stop--" he whispers, suddenly urgent, his heels digging into the butcher's back to encourage every brutal thrust.

"Just like that, gods--" Tipping his head down as if to better admire his lover's very hard work, his fair hair falling in a mess around his face, Danta is undone even by the mere sight of them, and it's with a sharp buck into Asta's waiting hand that he cums, biting at the inside of his cheek as if to cage the unsteady cry of bliss that threatens to spill from his lips. The result, of course, is that his mouth floods with copper instead, and he leans in to offer a blood soaked kiss for the taking, greedy to feel Asta unravel within him.

Dantalion