stay your pretty eyes on course

// divide me down to the smallest I can be //

Danta is no stranger to breaking things, mostly on purpose and almost always for fun, and as the scent of liquor curls into the air around them he can only smile, careful not to knock into the glass with his own horns as his head tips back. "I doubt you do. That doesn't mean it won't break," he whispers back, the heat of Asta's breath against his throat enough to send fire roaring down his spine where it blooms and burns in the pit of his stomach.

As the window fogs up behind him, revealing only the press of his back and shoulders, the Maverick's grin twists into something crooked, especially as the butcher's blunt fingernails drag across his chest and down the length of his body. He doesn't know what it is, but there's always something about Asta's glamour settling into place that scratches a very specific itch. It's with an expression not unlike awe that Danta lets his eyes dance across olive skin struck silver with scar tissue, up to dark hair and eyes like molten mahogany and lips whispering instructions that broker no room for argument.

And so, for once, no argument is given, and Danta shifts forward enough (cheeks flushed and a soft gasp escaping him at the fingers that come ghosting across the hard length of his arousal) that he might turn as Asta desires. "Like this?" he asks, flashing a coy glance over his shoulder that suggests he's entirely at the butcher's mercy.

Dantalion

// put your, put your v-v-venom in me //

run, baby, run, run for your life
i'ma tear out your heart, it'll always be mine

“Then we will have to be careful, mm?” Comes the deeper rumble before the show, before he’s willing away his horns and tail in favor for ensuring that the window won’t break. It also serves to give him a more rugged look, hair that despite being sleep tousled, typically used to being tucked behind the fire obsidian horns, comes loose to fall into his face as he takes in his lover, smirking down at him as he’s looked back at with doe eyes.

He really, truly does expect an argument. So when it doesn’t come, the butcher’s grin twists into something purely delighted. The light from the window brightens his expression some, turning dark eyes into amber honey; at least for the moment before he’s making his demands, withdrawing to give space for him to turn.

Asta doesn’t wait to put his hands back on him for Danta to be completely turned around. No, his hands find his lover’s sides, his back, stroking in smooth and warm passes of a thank you before he’s meeting that coy look from the Maverick that has Asta purring a “perfect, love. Just like that.” Sparking more flames to his hands, the butcher draws up behind him, fire encasing his fingers and his palms as he presses initially between Danta’s shoulder blades, before he drags down and down to his hips.

The gentle and loving touches seem to pause there, though, as he manhandles the Theocrat, flame coated hands lifting his hips a touch higher to ensure Danta’s on his knees. One hand smooths back up his back to push him down into a stretching kind of position; the kind that makes one’s back pop in such delightful ways. Yet, regardless of whether Danta’s back would pop, he’s treated with the smooth caress of his other hand, before he’s letting his golden gaze scan the fogged reflection of his lover when he slips a finger in; not quite giving in just yet — like he wants to see what kind of sounds and reactions he can drag from his lover first.

Astaroth

run, baby, run, run for your life

// divide me down to the smallest I can be //

"I'm not sure I know how to be careful," Danta says through a grin, though luckily enough, it's not really up to him to make any decisions this morning. And for what it's worth, he trusts Asta a lot more than he trusts himself with delicate panes of glass. (To a point, he might add - he's got no doubt that whatever they get up to might well bring out the butcher's reckless and chaotic side).

With heat and fire flaring in the shape of Asta's hands as they ghost between his shoulder blades and down the ladder of his ribcage, Danta feels just as worshipped as the other man had suggested, the flames licking against his skin, caressing it to a temperature that would be unbearable for any non-Ancient. His tail curls its delight, and as Asta's fingers grip his hips just so, he practically feels made for this.

He can still feel the butcher's phantom touches on his body even as those passes turn more possessive and insistent; Danta's knees spread and his chest melts down towards the table, his back crackling deliciously suggesting that he is not at all unfamiliar with the position. About to ask what Asta plans next, he just about catches sight of him in the reflection of the glass when his breath hitches at the unexpected touch, fingers flinching into fists. "Gods--" he hisses, before shivering out a hot breath of laughter.

Dantalion

// put your, put your v-v-venom in me //

run, baby, run, run for your life
i'ma tear out your heart, it'll always be mine

A soft chuckle slips past his lips, one at odds with the way he handles his lover. “I will keep you in line.” Comes the decisive answer, lips twisting into a smirk as he focuses his affections and intentions against the smooth warm skin of the Maverick, gaze darting between him and the glass window fogged up, making out the barely there reflections.

Danta’s back cracks delightfully so and it only broadens the appreciation in the lines of his olive toned face, slipping his finger in enough to simply watch for the reaction before a low hum sighs past his lips. “I think it might be you who’s wound up this morning, no?” Comes the playful tease, his hands withdrawing to slip along his skin again, gripping his hips in a way that would certainly have fingerprint bruises forming in all the ways that would remind him of this every time he moved.

There isn’t much bravado to it, nothing more to lead up before he grants Danta his wish. He lines them up, sinks in with enough speed to be cautious yet not too slow it seems he’s too careful, and he muffles the low keen of a groan from his throat with the splay of his hand against his lover's lower back. “Tell me what you see.” He purrs through a lower tone, stubbornly preventing himself from sinking wholly into the pleasure, craving the hitching of the blonde’s voice, the moans that he hopes to receive.

Astaroth

run, baby, run, run for your life

// divide me down to the smallest I can be //

"Can you blame me?" Danta whispers with a mischievous smile over his shoulder, even as Asta withdraws and prompts a hum of impatience and anticipation to rumble in his throat. "He pins me to a door, he - nn - grabs and strokes me in all the right places, and I'm supposed to be bored or something?"

Feeling the crackle of something that isn't quite pain at the bruises he know will decorate his hips in perfect fingerprint markings, eager as Danta is, he could exist quite happily in this space indefinitely. With Asta's hand on him, with the warmth of his body so close by and the purr of his voice filling his ears, it's one of the Maverick's favourite places to be.

Of course, another one of his favourites very much involves what Asta does next. His breath catches around a moan of surprise and pleasure - very much as expected - Danta tensing hard around him before relaxing by degrees, gripping the edge of the table for purchase. As for what he sees? He can't resist, and it's through a chuckle of amusement that he says, "Some guy making a delivery to the tailor's, a barfly crawling home, someone setting up a breakfast stand--"

Pressing back against Asta and rewarding himself with another soft moan of enjoyment, of course Danta suspects that isn't what the butcher had in mind. But sue him, he's a child of Dygra.

Dantalion

// put your, put your v-v-venom in me //

run, baby, run, run for your life
i'ma tear out your heart, it'll always be mine

“Mmm, well, no.” He responds, tongue clicking when he adjusts the two of them. And he fully anticipates on snatching Danta’s breath away (and then some), when he moves again. He sinks in, a shiver of delight flitting down his spine to feel the way he tightens then loosens, an acceptance of sorts that only spurs the butcher on.

One hand remains splayed, fire licking against the divots of scars and the smoothness of his skin, the other digging into his hip for purchase. And to Danta’s amused chuckle, a breathy one passes by his own lips. “Mhm, ah—” He growls when Danta sinks back against him, pressing himself deeper. It’s a growl that pairs alongside the moan of delight that passes his lover’s lips, and it’s one that the butcher focuses on as he withdraws, beginning to pick a pace that’s perfect enough to keep conversation (mostly), but enough to also derive pleasure.

“All of them.. going about their day.” Asta drawls, shifting a bit to lean over the Maverick, increasing the pace a fraction before his fiery hand expels its flame again, slipping down to stroke along Danta’s chest and stomach. “Unaware of just how perfect their Theocrat looks right this very second.” He purrs, a loose hand enclosing around his lover’s hard arousal, so that each thrust the butcher gives, offers a loose stroke.

Astaroth

run, baby, run, run for your life

// divide me down to the smallest I can be //

Feeling a shiver chase across his skin, not just from the touch of Asta's hands but from the growl of pleasure leaving his lips as well, a flush has already heated Danta's cheeks long before the buck and roll of the butcher's hips have him fighting for breath. "Their day doesn't seem to have started as well as ours..." he remarks, head tilting back as if he might observe the view outside the window a little better, even as his fingers flinch against each rock of the table.

"Do you feel sorry for them...?" he wonders, smiling darkly. "I could always... open a window.. to let them hear--" Ironically enough, Danta cuts himself off with a moan of near relief to feel Asta's fingers reach their fiery destination, and though the pressure and the pace isn't nearly enough, hells but it still feels incredible. "Gods, I love the way you fuck me," he pants, already imagining rough fingers tightening in his hair and his body forced down against the table.

Dantalion

// put your, put your v-v-venom in me //

run, baby, run, run for your life
i'ma tear out your heart, it'll always be mine

He’s pretty sure none of them woke up with a stranger in the bed they shared with their partner, but rather than beating a dead horse, the butcher instead hums a breathy chuckle. The question isn’t what he expects, though, and it’s clear with the slight dip of the rock of his hips, the rhythm that changes as he thinks about it, he picks up tenfold a second later.

“Do you want them to hear?” He asks, completely and utterly hanging on the question even as the moan escapes his lover. Smirking to himself as he pants, still hovered over the Maverick enough for that loose grip to encircle his cock, the butcher thinks he very well might want them to hear as he continues the line of thought. “Hear how perfect you are? How well I fuck you?” There’s a possessive tone in it, one that subconsciously follows Danta’s thoughts.

The hand that grips his hip abandons it as it smooths up his lovers back, to blonde hair that bounces with the movement of his thrusts. His breath hitches on the moan he bites back as he tangles his fingers into the blonde locks, while the rest of his forearm pushes Danta down further, pulling on his hair in the process. The loose grip tightens slightly, enough to offer a decent amount of friction against his cock, a reward.

Astaroth

run, baby, run, run for your life

// divide me down to the smallest I can be //

For a moment Danta honestly believes they've cracked the code of the Attuned bond, so instantly does Asta do what he's been craving. Hissing in a breath that's all feral anticipation at the grip in his hair, as he's forced further onto the table and the butcher's pace increases, it's all the Maverick can do to hold on and let his lover fuck him in every way he knows how.

"I think... they ought to know, don't you?" he manages in a tight voice that gives way to a sharp moan as Asta strikes a chord in him that has his back arching against the other man's hands. "Maybe a certain demigod will hear." His voice dips towards something velvet and dark, knowing well the line he's tiptoeing by bringing Sunjata into it.

But then Asta is squeezing his cock and with every thrust he feels as though something golden and unsteady is about to be knocked loose from him, Danta gritting his teeth and shifting on the table as if to offer as much of himself to the butcher as he can. "Fuck, Asta," he hisses, his voice breaking into something plaintive and charged with a rising ecstasy. "Right there - don't stop--"

Dantalion

// put your, put your v-v-venom in me //

run, baby, run, run for your life
i'ma tear out your heart, it'll always be mine

The butcher’s breath picks up, his own sounds of pleasure relatively quiet compared to the ones he draws out of the Maverick. He nearly purrs as Danta’s back arches, as he shifts just enough that the sensation for the butcher is twice as intense, sparking a low moan to escape him louder, alongside the ones he pulls from his lover.

“I certainly hope he does.” Asta’s voice is low, husky and deep and thickly accented as he pants the words out around the quiet groan of the thought. It has his fingers tightening in Danta’s hair, the buck of his hips momentarily heavier, slightly slower for it.

He recovers easily enough, though, the pace returning to a faster snap of his hips, as if he’s seeking out a prize as he tightens his hand against Danta’s cock, letting his thrusts do most of the work for him. The forearm of his other arm pushes down a touch more, tugging his lovers hair back enough to cock his head up, enough to see the foggy and blurry smug reflection of the butcher.

It’s that pitch that has the muscles of his body flexing as he increases his speed to give him what he wants. And while he hasn’t needed the sweet crimson iron of blood to spur this event on, he still does require it to finish it, and so he waits until he can feel the tension burn tighter within his lover, with each punishing thrust before he slices the inside of his cheek with his too sharp teeth. “Cum for me, Dantalion, love.” Comes the copper tinged growled request, because he fully knows the second Danta does, the butcher will succumb along with him.

Astaroth

run, baby, run, run for your life

// divide me down to the smallest I can be //

Since Asta is much more restrained than Danta when it comes to expressing his pleasure, every slip of the butcher's control is like a hard-won reward to the Maverick. Every rough groan and audible hitch of breath sends a fresh crackle of pleasure right to the core of him, and as he feels the other man's fingers tighten in his blond hair, it's enough to have the table beneath his hands start to smoke and scorch.

There's no chance Sunjata is anywhere close enough to The Last Whisper now to hear them, he thinks, but it's a nice (read: wicked) thought anyway, and as Asta's hips snap into him at a pace that he soon realises is unsustainable, he's more than happy to let those sorts of ideas carry him forward. "Oh, fuck--" he hisses, his head pulled up to watch the foggy reflection of the butcher behind him, possessive and perfect and using him to the best of his ability.

Already he can feel his climax racing up the backs of his legs against the base of his spine, and as the scent of blood hits the air and Asta purrs his command, Danta is heedless to do anything but obey. He cums hard enough that there will be perfect burns against the edge of the table in the shape of his hands, the Maverick arching up and back as if to drive the other man's cock as deeply inside him as he can. His tail curls in ecstasy, and though the odds of anyone hearing them are low through the window, he's loud enough that... well. They just might.

Dantalion

// put your, put your v-v-venom in me //

run, baby, run, run for your life
i'ma tear out your heart, it'll always be mine

He couldn’t have imagined it any better than the reality he’s receiving. Not as he watches the smoke slip from beneath Danta’s hands, as he realizes those handprints will be there forever, strewn over the table in such a position that anyone would have to know. And in a way, it sates that possessive glimmer within the butcher, enough that his focus is wholly on the Maverick and the way his body moves beneath him, the way he drives their pleasure forward to be seen in the foggy reflection.

He makes his command, slices his cheek, and fully aims to bury himself in the sensation as the tether within him snaps and he can’t bite back his own sounds any longer. Well restrained as he is, it cracks through him, especially as Danta drives back and sinks down onto his cock as much as he could. “Fuck, Danta—” Slips past his lips in a deep, gratifying sound, drowned out by the much louder sounds coming from the Maverick, but he finds he really doesn’t care. His hand loosens in Danta’s blonde locks, smoothing out over his back, riding out the lingering waves of pleasure for as long as he can as his chest heaves and he pants all kinds of sweet nothings, kisses pressed along his lovers spine tinged in red.

It’s fine, they need a shower anyway, right?

Astaroth

run, baby, run, run for your life

// divide me down to the smallest I can be //

A shower is the last thing on Danta's mind right now, but in the hours to come he'll happily lavish every inch of Asta's skin with suds and perfumed oils and whatever else he desires, for as long as he can stand to be beneath the jets of scalding water. For now though, the seconds drip by like honey, every brush of the other man's lips enough to send goosebumps chasing across the Maverick's flesh, his lungs burning as he tries to catch his breath.

Eventually - and it's not without reluctance or protest from his sore muscles - he pushes against the scorch marks on the table to shift enough to get to his knees, almost instantly slouching back against Asta's chest. His head tips back to rest against his shoulder, fingers greedily reaching back to smooth through the butcher's dark hair and across the sharp tines of his horns. "Gods," he whispers, a shaky smile in the words, Danta closing his eyes as if the effort to keep them open is too much.

"When I say no one fucks me like you do, I mean it," he continues, turning his head enough to nose against the side of Asta's neck, treating it to a lazy necklace of kisses. "...I haven't forgotten about the stag I promised you," he adds, grinning. "But I might need a minute."

Dantalion

// put your, put your v-v-venom in me //

run, baby, run, run for your life
i'ma tear out your heart, it'll always be mine

In the time it takes to regain breaths and come down from the bliss, the butcher has loosened his glamour as he presses soft and reverent kisses to Danta’s spine. His tail curls contently even as Danta moves, sinking back to rest with his back to Asta’s chest. His arms wind around his middle, a kiss pressed to his temple before he shivers with the sensation of Danta’s fingertips running through his tousled hair and along the sharp tines of his horns.

“I am sure, darling.” He purrs, his head tilting slightly to feel the warm brush of his lips against his neck. It sparks a gentle smile to rest on his face, easy and tender, that accompanies the deep rumble of a chuckle that vibrates through his chest. “Truthfully, love, I could care less about the stag. You promised me luxere, after all. I am happy to wait.” He purrs, shifting slightly to make it easier for the Maverick to slip off the burnt table, though he does affectionately reach over to brush his fingertips along the hand marks.

Astaroth

run, baby, run, run for your life