oh darling get me drunk, invite me in

all you have is your fire, and the place you need to reach

Danta's moan pitches into something a little louder as the butcher's hips buck into him, toppling him fully against the other man. "Fuck, Asta..." He whispers, his arms coiling around him properly now, fingers plunging into the back of his dark hair, nails pricking against his shoulder blades. Panting softly into the space between them, Danta gives himself a second or two to adjust before utterly relaxing around the butcher, hips rolling forward of their own accord and drawing a soft whine of pleasure from his throat.

"I've wanted this all night," he murmurs against the shell of Asta's ear, like it's the confession of a sin and the only way to be forgiven is for the other man to fuck him into absolution. "Everyone with their eyes on you, wanting to get closer but afraid to get too close..." Groaning, he nips at Asta's jewelled earlobe, continuing to grind against him. "I can't believe it took us this long to get out here."

Dantalion

don't you ever tame your demons, but always keep 'em on a leash

i will never go backwards, i will never be seen
in the wake of disaster ...

As Danta topples into him, Asta smirks despite the warmth that continues to bloom like lightning through his veins. “Mm?” Asta purrs before it’s broken up with the way he rolls his hips. There’s a sharp inhale as he starts to settle, handing Danta the reins in preparation for him to indulge in the plan he’d already made, to ride him until he comes undone.

It leaves him open to lean back a touch, planting one hand behind him to prop himself up as the other drags along Danta’s spine. He pants softly into the space between them, soft moans broken up with the brief hitch of a laugh. “And yet my eyes are only ever on you.” Everyone could pine and imagine to their hearts content, but at the end of the day it would only ever be a fantasy.

The nip against his earlobe has his cock throbbing hard with where he tries to keep his hips from moving of their own accord, only pitching up a little before he gets himself controlled again, head tilting to give Danta more room to rake his teeth. “If you had said that before, we would not have made it out of the party before I buried myself in you.” There’s a growl of promise and a smug, arrogant tone to his hoarse and thick accent.

Astaroth

will you sink down to me?

all you have is your fire, and the place you need to reach

"Oh I'm well aware. I could feel you watching me wherever I went," Danta says, his voice quiet and rough against Asta's ear, breath hitching with the delicious way they move together. Leaning in to press bruising kisses to the side of the butcher's neck as he bares it to him, the sharp moan that rumbles from Danta's throat at the sudden lift of Asta's hips is, if anything, encouraging.

Panting against his neck and bucking his hips more insistently, the Maverick's grip tightens in the other man's hair, nails leaving blunt crescents in his flesh and silvered scar tissue. "Now that we're not in the party any more, you can have me as often as you like. Here, on the skyship, against a wall in the Last Whisper, on one of the tables in the Dusklight--"

Biting his lower lip at the mere thought, Danta's cock throbs between them, begging for attention.

Dantalion

don't you ever tame your demons, but always keep 'em on a leash

i will never go backwards, i will never be seen
in the wake of disaster ...

“Good,” He groans against the rough and quiet voice that fills his ear, their bodies rising and falling in a perfect rhythm to match each other. Asta continues to burn with his desire, with each press of a bruising kiss feeling more like a brand ringed around his throat as a badge he’d gladly leave in the open to shine. And with the encouragement, well, it doesn’t take longer than a split second for the butcher to catch the hint, helping with the rocking of his own hips, trying to dredge up all kinds of sounds to reverberate and echo from the trees around them.

He grows more insistent and the butcher mirrors him with it, the need for control beginning to take over despite how much he’d stuffed it down, such that with each sharp press of nails in his skin and the crescent marks left behind, the butcher’s own drags lines up and down his lover’s sides, pink in the low light. “Mm, the scandalous deal of the century.” He pants, tilting his horned head to bury his lips in Danta’s neck as the hand along his side slips around to the front, dragging more pink lines down along his chest and stomach in pursuit of his cock.

Gripping it with a kind of confidence that the butcher’s seemed to master as of late, the strokes are perfectly in time with how he bucks his hips against Danta’s own. “How envious all of them will be, hm? The jealousy.” He growls with delight at the thought, teeth scraping gently enough to cause nothing more than superficial scratches against his neck, body splotching with more red as if imagining pinning him to the multitudes of options — the deck of their skyship, a wall in the Last Whisper with a view of the Dusklight in the distance, the Dusklight itself against the large table that breaks up the traditional booths as a centerpiece.

Astaroth

will you sink down to me?

all you have is your fire, and the place you need to reach

Danta will treat him to a musical by the time they're through here, and as the butcher starts to move with him he moans his praises with every sharp buck of his hips, head tipping back to bare his throat to Asta's waiting teeth. "Envious of me?" he wonders, voice tight with need and mounting pleasure. "Or jealous of you for fucking me so good?" He doesn't know how wise it is to tease his lover's jealousy, especially with the rising possessiveness he can feel in Asta's touch and breath and the rhythm of his body, but he can't help it.

"All those wandering eyes." He pants. "Watching you, wishing they wer-- oh fuck--" Silenced, perhaps wisely so, by the firm and confident hand around his cock, Danta automatically arches into the touch, even if his hips stutter a little for a moment. "Gods, fuck me, Asta," he hisses, more than ready to surrender to the other man's control.

Dantalion

don't you ever tame your demons, but always keep 'em on a leash

i will never go backwards, i will never be seen
in the wake of disaster ...

“Perhaps— Perhaps both.” He starts off, broken up by the way Danta tilts his head back, baring his throat to him. He jumps on the opportunity, bathing and lavishing his lover’s neck with his own form of bruising, sharp kisses. He’s cautious, though, not wanting to make him too sore, so the bites aren’t strong but enough to prick and draw blood to the surface.

It’s that which distracts him temporarily as his lover pokes and prods at his own jealousy. It stokes the flame in more ways than one, making his hips buck sharper and more decisive. Danta’s words cut and break along the grunts and groans that leave the butcher, tongue sweeping along the beads of blood as he tries to figure his words out — distracted as much as anyone would be to have Danta in his lap like this.

His hand quickens along Danta’s length, as does the rhythm of his hips, aching and throbbing with tension. “Wishing they were me?” Comes the huff, the growl. “Gods, but nobody does it better than I do, do they darling?” The arrogance flares, the thrust of his hips with more neediness and desire, a tipping point of trying to prove something that doesn’t need proving.

Astaroth

will you sink down to me?

all you have is your fire, and the place you need to reach

The forest overhead is all but ringing with the sound of Danta's pleasure by the time Asta obliges him, heat flushing across his chest and up his throat to his cheeks, his fingers tight in the back of the other man's hair as if to either spur him on or hold him at bay (perhaps both). "No, they don't," he bites out, breathless and feeling his climax start to crackle up the backs of his legs to roar through the base of his spine.

"No one does it like you," he moans, tilting his head down as if greedy for the look on Asta's face, for the warm and endless black of his eyes and the rough skill of his hands. "No one fucks me like you do, no one can make me cum like you--" As if summoning it with words alone, Danta's orgasm rocks through him like the gods have lost their grip on the world's foundations, sudden and intense.

Groaning something that sounds like the butcher's name, he all but crumples forward, clutching him close as if worried the moment will slip from his fingers.

Dantalion

don't you ever tame your demons, but always keep 'em on a leash

i will never go backwards, i will never be seen
in the wake of disaster ...

Hands pour through his hair, gripping the raven strands tight to keep him held at bay but it also sparks that sensation of sharp pinpricks from where it tugs at the roots. Satisfaction curls in the butcher’s chest, a yawning pit of warmth and desire that glitters around the folds to soothe and abate any potential jealousy that had started to take root. He laps up the beads of blood until Danta’s head tilts down, until the butcher’s forehead is there to meet his, to watch him come undone when his climax strikes.

Dark eyes take him in, reflecting a similar sharp obsidian of Dygra’s soak in each and every shift of his lover’s face, from the hitch of his breath, the way his lips work with the words that break through him, the curve and twist when he cums with a force even Asta isn’t sure he’s witnessed just yet. It’s enough to undo him, too, the burning sensation finally reaching a sharp pitch, the tension taught enough that his tail curls as he rocks his hips to help Danta ride it out while he comes undone too.

The hand slips away from Danta’s front when he crumples, smoothing up his back to press him in against him as he pants for breath, pushing up enough that the hand that had been used to steady him can wind and wrap around his lover’s body. “I love you, darling.” He says in this moment of bliss, of relief and serenity in spite of the iron that still trickles through the air.

Astaroth

will you sink down to me?

all you have is your fire, and the place you need to reach

Aware only of the sound of his panting breath and the thunder of his heartbeat for a few blissful moments, Danta's hips shift of their own accord, riding out the swell of his orgasm as well as carrying Asta through his climax. He cares little for their surroundings or who might hear or come to investigate, his fingers relaxing in the butcher's dark hair to stroke through the midnight strands, savouring the silken feel through his fingertips.

"I love you too," he whispers, the words something Asta will feel against the side of his neck as well as hear, Danta's head dropping to rest on his shoulder. And that's where he stays for he doesn't now how long, the warmth between them doing wonders to stave off the chill of the evening, the sound of the party distant, still, but audible once his senses return enough to listen properly.

Words form more than once on his lips before he lets them go, not wanting to disturb their peace with the obvious; eventually, he sits up just enough to gently cup Asta's jaw and tilt his head up against his waiting lips. Danta kisses him slow and sweet and reverant, as if that might tell the butcher everything that words fail to articulate.

Dantalion

don't you ever tame your demons, but always keep 'em on a leash

i will never go backwards, i will never be seen
in the wake of disaster ...

Danta’s fingers through his hair spark that sensation of warmth and serenity to last even longer. Their breaths heavy and nearly coordinated with how they try to catch it, all while Asta leans forward to wind his arms more fully around his lover, trailing his fingers along the other Ancient’s sides and back in strokes of random designs. He feels and hears the whisper back, his horned head tilting enough to press his bearded cheek into the golden crown of the Maverick’s, still free from the diamond horns that typically sat there.

Not that Asta minds that much at this moment, not while he has him precisely where he wants him and he can douse him with love and attention in all the ways the butcher craves. He hardly even hears the party, so focused on hearing Danta’s heartbeat and any potential immediate threats, that when his lover pulls back and cups his jaw, his dark midnight eyes focus on him briefly as if in confusion before he’s swept up in the kiss.

It's one that speaks more than anything, a sweet little serenade for the butcher only, and it charms him enough to curve his arms up to spread along his shoulders and trail his fingers into the long blonde strands that are swept back, keeping them together and Danta held in such a precious way that proves that it’s how much he means to him. It’s slow, sweet, gentle and everything, and Asta sparks over and over again with each unsaid word pressed into it. “I think I could very well stay out here all night with you.” He whispers hoarsely as they part, pressing his forehead against Danta’s gently and shuts his eyes. "If you did not wish to make the trek back so soon."

Astaroth

will you sink down to me?

all you have is your fire, and the place you need to reach

Humming soft affection against Asta's lips as his hands sweep up along his shoulders and into his hair, Danta is left panting once again as they finally part, his forehead tilting to rest gently against the other man's. "Yeah?" His grin is audible through a voice left rough and exhausted by the past few moments, Danta's hands dropping slowly to land on Asta's shoulders, bracing himself there. "Perhaps not all night," he purrs. "I feel like we'd have a few complaints when it gets colder."

But for right now? There can't be much harm in that, surely.

Leaving another brief, chaste kiss against the butcher's lips, Danta sits back properly in his lap at last, long fingers trailing down his bare chest, over the ridges of scar tissue and against soft olive skin. "Or," he supposes, "we could sneak off to the skyship now. I bet we'll be one of the only ones on it for a few hours yet, before the party is over."

Dantalion

don't you ever tame your demons, but always keep 'em on a leash

i will never go backwards, i will never be seen
in the wake of disaster ...

Reverence and adoration take place of any lingering aggression or possessiveness that’s been building in the butcher the entirety of the night. Such that when he presses his forehead against Danta’s, he takes a few long slow and steadying breaths to inhale the sweet lingering scent of sage, smoke, and blood, complete with the brief undercurrent of citrus. His fingertips thread and twirl along varying strands of blonde, some with a tinge of faded dye. “Mm, perhaps you are right.” He concedes in a rough voice, the smile still tugged on his face growing fraction by fraction as he holds him.

His eyes open only when he feels Danta move, dark midnight spotting him only briefly before he’s captured in a chaste kiss, gentle and sweet but far, far too short. His breaths relax with the trail of his lover’s fingers along his chest, shivers sparking in place of where he’s been, sparking some flame from his own fingertips to wind around Danta’s chest in a lover’s caress that prevents the flame from catching on anything around them. “You do drive an intriguing point.” He concedes, humming as if he’s debating whether or not to do it before he starts to shift.

Leaning forward to steal another chaste kiss briefly from his lover’s lips, he moves his hands still wreathed in little candle-like flames from his fingertips to help Danta up before he’ll follow suit to stand, extinguishing the flame enough to not burn or melt their clothing as they go to pick them up.

Astaroth

will you sink down to me?

all you have is your fire, and the place you need to reach

"I make nothing if not intriguing points," Danta agrees, grinning and tilting his head into the fuss against his hair much in the way a cat might. Rarely logical or practical are his points, but intriguing he has in abundance. Still, he can't help but to regret the suggestion when Asta finally starts to move, the Maverick having been relishing the lick of flame against his bare flesh.

He grumbles himself to his feet with the other man's assistance, cleaning himself up and accepting his clothes to shimmy back into as they find them scattered around the forest. In the end, he's not nearly as put-together as when they arrived at the masquerade - and he keeps his mask tied to his cape (which isn't on straight but whatever) - but it's passable. "Alright," he says at last, drifting back towards the butcher like they are magnets of opposing poles.

"Let's go home."

~FIN

Dantalion

don't you ever tame your demons, but always keep 'em on a leash