ghost towns

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

He’s certainly not stopping when he’s got Danta right where he wants him, where they both want to be. If anything, the way his heels dig into his back has him embracing the chase even more. His other hand rises, another slow scrape of his blunt nails, until he winds his arm around Danta’s own, threading his fingers through the golden strands of his hair, dragging across rainbow hues of his horn as he bucks sharply, the mess spread between them with the other Ancient’s climax.

Not that Asta’s going to complain. And it’s with the softer ride after with his hand versus the mismatched pace of his own hips increasing that Asta meets him as the scent of iron grows stronger, brighter, the glimpse of scarlet on his lover’s lips as they collide. It’s everything, from the way his hand tightens in his Theocrat’s hair, from where he surges in with a groan and a gasp that’s both swallowed and poured into the waiting mouth of copper as his tongue sweeps out to indulge himself further.

The kiss breaks too short as Asta rides out the electricity still thrumming in his veins, the echos of bliss making his hands feel staticky and weightless, shifting both hands to curl Danta in against his chest as he pants for breath, burying his face into his golden hair and neck. “Gods, Danta.” Comes the hazy purr, the way his shadows suddenly pull in against his shoulders in a wreathing manner, pushing forward to blanket Danta in turn and curl around his neck and body, shrouding the both of them against this tree. “You are my everything.” It’s a soft and brutally honest whisper, one made easier by the weightlessness he feels, weighed down only by the weight of how much he loves him.

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

Whatever cuts and bruises they take from this impromptu tryst in the Mathair's presence will be worth it; as Asta surges forward, claiming a bloody kiss from Danta's mouth and thrusting hard into him, the Maverick is utterly uncomplaining. Moaning softly into the press of lips and tongue, as the other man draws back to snatch in a breath, Danta reluctantly lets him, tilting his head to brush gentle kisses against Asta's temples.

His arms curl around the butcher and a blissful silence drapes over them like a blanket from the forest, broken only by the sound of their own exertion and, eventually, by Asta's hoarse voice. "Everything, you say?" he whispers back, the amusement in his tone at odds with a pleased flush to his cheeks. "I suppose I'd better be careful, then. We both know how possessive you can get."

Danta can't keep up the swagger for long, however, and he leans in to search out Asta's lips for a soft and lingering kiss. "You're everything to me as well," he whispers. "And if it meant being with you, I'd kill every person from here to King's End without a thought."

Dantalion

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

The come down is quiet, no need for anything else to spur it on as the butcher holds his lover close, like nothing could interrupt them in the shroud of his shadows and his full and absolute attention. The whisper back, pressed into his temple, sparks a hoarse hum of a laugh to rumble through him before he sighs. “For not having a dragon shift,” like you, “I am quite fond of my treasures.”

Leaning in to claim the softer kiss, the one that lingers and fills in all the gaps formed by the quick rush of sensation and emotions their tryst in the woods has brought, he pulls away to let Danta speak, forehead to forehead as if there were no other place he’d rather be. His hands continue to curl around his lover’s body, keeping him close and in this tender, intimate moment as the exhaustion begins to start showing in the twitch and tremble of muscles in his legs, noticed only by the extension of his tail as it remains wrapped around one of Danta’s legs. “I would hate to be that person that keeps us apart.” Because between the two of them, trying to get back to one another, Asta would gladly let the world burn.

“I know we had plans, however… Would you be opposed to a nap out here?” He asks softly, withdrawing a touch to reach up and fix a loose strand of Danta’s hair, tucking it under a beautiful rainbow horn.

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

"It's only a matter of time," Danta reasons with a fanged grin. "And for what it's worth, I think you'd make a rather fetching dragon." Though, you know, they'll have to find somewhere suitable for Asta to keep his growing hoard of treasures - the Maverick included.

As his mind starts to surface from the deep well of pleasure it has sunk into, Danta finally releases his hold on the tree branch and relaxes his legs where he's hooked them around Asta's hips. He assists the butcher however possible to get his feet back on the ground (and to prevent Asta from throwing them to the floor in his exhaustion), his balance tenuous at best, Danta forced to lean into the other man to stay standing.

"I absolutely would not be opposed to a nap out here," he says with a breathless laugh, not even bothering to try and find his pants before he's tugging Asta to find a soft, mossy place to lay down. "You'd better frisk me, though. I don't think I'm carrying any knives, but it's best to be sure, right?"

Dantalion

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

It will be his first flying shift ever - not even having had one back when he’d tormented the Climb. It would be an adjustment, and he’s nearly a breath away from asking Danta if he’d teach him to fly when he hesitates. Because of course he would.

Of course his little crow would teach his wolf how to fly. It’s a question that doesn’t need an answer.

So the butcher smiles instead, snorting a hoarse sound as they work to regain their footing. Asta helps him with the boon of the tree trunk for stability, until they’ve managed to get settled and balanced, and only as he’s trying to tug up his own pants does Danta start tugging him toward a lush, mossy patch that looks like the kind he’d seek out when he’d go on his scouting missions.

“Obviously, darling.” He touts playfully as he finds one space in particular that looks perfect, thick and lush and beneath the branches of another large tree nearby without the worry of a wicker woman to come and ruin their nap. His shadows trail after them, before extending in a mock movement of laying down before they have a chance to - which is fair, given the way Asta tugs Danta back toward him, smoothing his hands in a gentle and tender motion against his skin, checking for hidden weapons. “Mm, well, you do have a tendency of hiding them. I must be thorough.” He notes, like he’s well versed in removing weaponry from Danta in particular.

He is, but for different reasons.

Guiding him with his gentle yet firm touch to sit down amongst the lush moss and his shadow, the butcher follows after, still smoothing his hands down along Danta’s hips and up his back against small superficial scratches from the bark of the tree and over pale, pearlescent scars.

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

Distracted by the way Asta's shadows settle in the lush blanket of thick grass, Danta stumbles into the other man's grip without complaint, his quiet laughter filling the clearing. "Probably for the best," he agrees. "Sometimes not even I remember what I've hidden away." And Asta will find not one knife but three - which is delightful for the Maverick to find out as well, given that he's undressed from the waist down.

"Clearly I was expecting a fight," he purrs as he's guided to sit down in the little patch of comfort they've found, leaning into every careful, calloused touch of the butcher's fingers. "Are you satisfied with your search?" he wonders, almost hoping that the other man will say no so that he can continue to enjoy his hands all over him.

Of course, he doesn't intend to be at all apart from him even once the frisking is complete, and as soon as he's permitted, Danta will stretch back against the grass, reaching out to snag Asta by the belt and tug him down atop him. "Gods, you're good to me," he mumbles, burying his face in the crook of his neck and letting out a long, content sigh.

Dantalion

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

“Mhm, I have started keeping track.” The first knife he finds is one that’s expected, plucked with a raise of his brow and a playful twist of his lips as he hides it away in the satchel brought with. The second one sparks a bit more of a surprise, a hum of a laugh, hiding it away again. But when the third is found, Asta’s deep chuckle is one of bewilderment. “Honestly, darling?” He asks, the laugh warm as it leaves him, following Danta down as his shadow melts in with the Maverick’s own.

He doesn’t completely trust that Danta’s completely weaponless, but he’s tugged down by the belt to crowd into his space, warmth bleeding into the other Ancient’s skin, his face burying into the side of his lover’s face - bearded cheek nuzzling in against his smooth and sharp cheekbone. “I am not completely satisfied, but I am content to be here, darling.” He purrs, shifting to press down into his torso, allowing his hands to continue to smooth down along his sides and skin in gentle swooping motions.

“Am I?” He asks belatedly, nosing in to press a kiss to his jaw and neck, withdrawing enough to let his warm honey gaze dance across his face.

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

"You have? How sweet," Danta purrs, as though having someone keep a tally of all the sharp things he keeps on his person is a delightful surprise. As much of a surprise as the third blade that Asta manages to locate, the Maverick offering his lover a beaming smile and an innocent shrug. "How'd that get in there?" he chirps, before he's dragging the butcher atop him and relishing in the weight of his body astride his own.

Inhaling a breath of appalled surprised to har that Asta isn't completely satisfied (and clearly taking it in an entirely different direction) Danta turns his head to whisper a kiss across his temple. "Not even after all that business with the tree? What would have you satisfied, then?" he wonders, grinning and looping his arms around him to pin him close.

"Mm, you are," he confirms, lifting a hand to brush long fingers across Asta's stubbled jawline, letting his touch dance across his lips before he replaces it with the press of his own mouth, as if only a kiss will help to explain all the things he wants to say.

Dantalion

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

Maybe he’ll have a monthly check in with Danta to tell him just how many knives he’d found on his person that month. A pleasant surprise in addition to the admission that he’s been keeping track. A mental note right now, but he does have a little portion of the dark journal he kept with him with the little tallies. He slips the other blade away with a soft chuckle to the chirp, but he settles quick enough to curl in against his lover.

Hands smoothing along his skin up and down and leaning into the kiss to his temple, Asta focuses back on his lover’s face with a crooked smile. “We shall see.. mm?” Comes the non-answer, the amusement flaring in his face that mirrors the grin as he’s kept close by the arms of the Maverick.

Not like he’d want to be anywhere else.

The butcher’s head tilts into the touch, featherlight against the stubble of his jaw and then his lips, his gaze softening before he closes his eyes to indulge in the kiss, sinking into the touch as his hands rise and lift, threading through blonde strands and the random beads and trinkets here and there. His tail curls around Danta’s leg and he withdraws when he needs breath - nudging his nose gently with his own, trailing his kiss along to his jaw.

Each and every word that felt impossible to say before is laid bare in the gentle tenderness of the kiss - at odds with the time spent at the tree and the primal desire and urges that had overcome him. This is different, careful and sweet, romantic in a way that he isn’t intending. “I love you.”

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

If Asta plays his cards right he can always join the monthly check-in Danta already has with Kiada, though it's not to tally up his weapons. (He might stand more of a chance at paying attention if it was). That scattered focus, at least, is entirely on his lover for now, his eyebrows raising at the open-ended response as if to ask whether the butcher is trying to tempt him to a further roll in the grass, because Dygra knows that he doesn't need any encouragement to do that sort of thing.

Luckily, any fire that's tempted to stoke low in his belly is tamed to a loving smoulder by kisses and gentle touches, Danta turning to enjoy the fingers that thread through his hair and drag across his pale skin. Hooking a leg around Asta as if to keep him from moving too much, the Maverick eventually shifts as if to roll them over, allowing him to glue himself against the butcher's side.

"And I love you," he says, his voice almost a whisper into the crook of Asta's neck. "Now remember to pin me down if I look like I'm having a nightmare, yeah?"

Dantalion

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

He might find himself intrigued enough to join in - if for nothing else but to make sure the monsters don’t find their way out of his office into Danta’s own across the hall. But all those thoughts die in the flare of brilliant, warm embers. Flaring a lovely heat into the hollow void of his chest as he presses into the kiss, into the way his tail winds around Danta’s leg that wraps around his waist, each pinpoint of connection that he can. His fingertips stroke along his prismatic horns, even as he huffs a soft “oof” that breaks into a soft chuckle, rolled onto his back.

He twists enough to turn toward him, arms looping back around him in turn, still toying with the ends of Danta’s hair against the nape of his neck. “Mm, so long as you have given your permission.” He tacks on with a soft hidden yawn, even if it’s the last thing he wants to do for fear that it reiterates the fear of the old Astaroth. But so long as Danta’s given his okay, he could manage it.

He hopes he can, anyway.

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

More than tempted to dismiss his horns to give Asta the chance to fully tease his fingers through his hair, in the end Danta only forgets about it when the butcher's voice echoes softly in the space between them. Peering up at him, his leg still hooked across his waist and his fingers trying to sneakily unbutton his waistcoat so he might seek out the heat of him within it, he pauses for a moment before a slow smile curls across his lips.

"You have permission, here and whenever you might need it in future," he tells him gently, punctuating the remark with a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I want you to do whatever you need to, if it keeps the both of us safe." And sometimes that means saving Danta from himself. Sometimes a few seconds of horror are worth it, when the alternative is a knife in the ribs.

Dantalion

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

Whether Danta does or doesn’t make his horns disappear, the butcher is well versed in his movements surrounding them. Stroking through the blond, gilded strands and beads and whatever other trinkets he’s chosen to slip into his hair that day while simultaneously dragging the calloused pad of his fingers along the prismatic diamond horns, careful as always to not prick himself on the sharp edges. It’s an easy distraction while his other arm is looped around him, tail connecting them all the same too, even if he bends a bit away to allocate for Danta’s attempt to unbutton his waistcoat.

He gets it open easily enough, the flare of heat from his chest is sweltering, even as he surges in with the assurance that Danta’s hands will find their way underneath it, to warm up pressed against his scarred chest and back. “Alright.” Asta hums softly, lips quirking up in that traditional smile of his with the assurance and the promise that he would do whatever it took so long as Danta never hated him for it.

At least not permanently. “Now, shall we hope that a wicker woman does not find us?” He asks in a conspirators whisper, brows lifting as he twists his head to press both against Danta’s cheek in turn but to also give him a way to glance around as if he hadn’t checked this particular spot before now for the annoying, deadly trees.

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

Danta absolutely takes advantage of the open waistcoat to sneak his fingers beneath Asta's shirt, relaxing into the heat that rolls out from his bare skin and turning more fully into it. As the other man continues to fuss over his hair and his horns - something he suffers all the more willingly these days - the Maverick manages to curl an arm around his lover in turn, stroking idle affection against olive skin and pale scars both. "It's settled, then," he purrs, nosing against the side of Asta's neck and exhaling a content breath against his throat.

"Mm, I don't think any wicker women would dare, not out here this close to the Mathair," he says, his voice muffled but no less confident in their safety. Then again, he might also just be too comfortable and happy with their arrangement to be too bothered with the Greatwood's more nefarious flora and fauna. "And if they do, I'm sure we'd wake up before anything terrible happened." You know. Probably.

Shifting a little more until he's bonelessly draped against the butcher, Danta mumbles a goodnight to Asta despite it being the middle of the afternoon, and falls quiet to nap.

Dantalion