[SE] refugee from stone and sand

we thieves and lovers will keep up our urges to sin, to sin
let your desire be simply acquired within, within

Oh, how he loves being right. And he loves hearing the praise that spills from his lovers lips, more so this season perhaps. “Nor would you, darling, if you were more comfortable with apt fitting attire.” His accented voice rumbles with amusement and playfulness, inclining his head slightly, briefly before he’s pinning and placing, letting the satisfaction of seeing the image come together.

His hand remains warm against his lover as they admire the imagery coming together in the mirror, before he’s crowding his space again to press a kiss to the sharp jut of his cheekbone, right where the smirk bunches up his cheek. “Ah, such as this?” He purrs playfully, stepping back in and crowding, hovering over his shoulder like the murderous, grinning shadow he is.

His hands smooth back around toward his front, deftly undoing the pins he’d placed and marked already, distracting his lover with an all encompassing kiss as he carefully undresses him from the cape and the vest like it had been part of his plan all along.

Astaroth

if you want me all to yourself, then take on the leap

// you knew who I was //

"My attire fits me perfectly, thank you," Danta says with playfully narrowed eyes. "Fashion is different for everyone Asta - we can't all be the silhouette of a sharp-dressed man. Besides, I wouldn't want to start showing you up everywhere we went." He's still smirking like the cat that's got the cream at that last little quip, though it promptly melts from his expression as the butcher's lips press to his jaw instead.

Whatever agreement he might be about to make - and it is an agreement, make no mistake about that - is promptly forgotten in lieu of the warmth of the butcher's body pressing in against his own. Danta turns his head in time to meet the other man's lips, distracted enough that he really doesn't care whether the pins prick against his skin as he angles himself to face Asta properly, stepping flush against him on the platform as if to make it difficult for him to remove the clothing he'd so painstakingly helped him into.

"Gods, you're a menace this season," he whispers against his lips, voice pitched low for his ears only. "I love it," he adds, all mischief and delight, just in case Asta thinks otherwise.

Dantalion

// with every step that I ran to you //

we thieves and lovers will keep up our urges to sin, to sin
let your desire be simply acquired within, within

“Showing me up, mm?” The butcher purrs from where his lips are pressed against the sharp jut of his lover’s jaw, amusement lingering in the smile still tugged on his face. He imagines it wouldn’t be so much of a competition when they had essentially become quite the package. Instead, he might actually look like Danta’s shadow, rather than the well-dressed murderer he is.

All of those thoughts and the argument back against the quip vanish in turn, too, when his lover’s lips find his with the precise tilt of his head. He’s angled against him, warm and beautiful and impossible. His hands still, hesitating over the lingering pins in the vest that still cling to him, and his tail whips with a hint of frustration that he’s still harboring the vest even if the cape has been at the very least successfully dropped to the platform they stand on.

Withdrawing enough to feel Danta’s whisper where it presses against his lips, he meets it with a low and knowing chuckle. “You have always adored me at my worst.” These days, at least, since reawakening. And he takes that moment to let his hands drop, warmth sparking against bare skin of his hips and the swell of his ass as he hitches him closer to him to feel the desire that bulges there once again without the help of iron to get him going. “Alas, we still must see how my choices look, don’t we darling?” Which really only means Danta gets the free pass to undress him in turn, even if the Maverick won’t let him fully remove the vest from his skin.

Astaroth

if you want me all to yourself, then take on the leap

// you knew who I was //

"You heard," Danta purrs, but as is always the case when he gets Asta to himself like this, the subject of their conversation is becoming vanishingly unimportant. Skipping in a breath at the greedy hands that drop to his hips and ass, his hips angle forward very much of their own accord, feeling the hard press of Asta's arousal. "I would argue that you're at your best like this," he whispers, the words all but caressing the butcher's lips before Danta steals away any further response with another lusty kiss.

Fully intending to at least get as far as undressing his lover (and it's becoming increasingly clear that this is Asta's intention more than putting any clothes back on), Danta's hands move distractedly against the buttons of the vest he's still wearing, then to the other man's shirt and belt. It's difficult to concentrate when, in truth, making out with Asta is much more interesting, and it's with a breathless laugh and a final flick of his tongue that he finally steps back enough to shrug out of the vest.

"Remember," he whispers, his tone low and wicked, "if you break any of these mirrors it's seven years of bad luck."

Dantalion

// with every step that I ran to you //

we thieves and lovers will keep up our urges to sin, to sin
let your desire be simply acquired within, within

Chuckling deeply, the butcher’s knowing look is paired with a deep rooted fire that glimmers in his gaze as he drags his hands all across his lover. Pressed together as they are, it allows his hands a touch more time to wander as his lips are caught in another warm kiss, making it impossible for him to respond to the quip of just how much he’s at his best right now.

He presses into the kiss, adding his chaos in the press of his body that makes it difficult for Danta to unbutton and remove his clothes, but with enough diligence (that he knows Danta is very capable of with this on the line) he fully intends to continue to distract him with the devouring kiss, a hint of smoke in the taste they share.

And then he parts from him and Asta’s fingers twitch with the absence of his lover’s warm body, immediately moving to shed himself of the clothes. His scarred body is patchily flushed and he takes the moment to rake his soft dark hair behind his antlers, peering at Danta through the reflection of the mirror with that same shark tooth grin as he snags that chainlink fabric to drape across his scarred shoulders — and gasp, nothing else.

“Only seven years, darling?” He asks, making as if to study the mirrors in just how many years he’d harbor bad luck for if he did deign to destroy them, even though he thinks he’d much prefer to keep them intact for what comes next. “I believe I could manage twenty-eight or so years of bad luck. Of course, that is assuming that each one of these mirrors gets ruined."

Astaroth

if you want me all to yourself, then take on the leap

// you knew who I was //

"Perish the thought." Danta's eyes widen as he gazes dramatically towards each of the mirrors. "Not that I don't think you'd wear that much bad luck well, but I'd much prefer to see you in all of these reflections instead." Speaking of wearing it well, the Maverick's eyes track the glittering chain as Asta adjusts it around himself, his eyes all but molten with hunger and arousal.

"You know, I don't think that needs much of an adjustment at all," he whispers, all but prowling around to admire the cloak from all angles, utilising the mirrors and his own roving gaze to get a full view. Reaching out to brush his fingers across the shining metal, he admires the way it sits in contrast to his lover's olive skin, flushed attractively in places as it is.

Stepping back onto the platform - behind Asta now - Danta lets his hands sweep down the butcher's sides and towards his hips, leaning over his shoulder to leave a slow, hot kiss against the side of his neck. "I think I still prefer you with it off," he whispers, grinning.

Dantalion

// with every step that I ran to you //

we thieves and lovers will keep up our urges to sin, to sin
let your desire be simply acquired within, within

“Ah, so we are in agreement.” The butcher smirks, watching his lover scan the mirrors before looking back at him — both wearing the heat of desire that blooms around them warmly and comfortably, and Asta is suddenly quite thankful for his past self in how he’d warned the tailor to stay far away.

He stills, centering himself in the platform as Danta makes his assessment, watching with a hunter’s gaze as he prowls around him, little shivers and goosebumps sparking where the cool chains press against hot skin with the brush of his lover’s fingers. His dark gaze tracks the Maverick as he steps up behind him, the warmth of his hands relaxing the butcher further such that he melts into it, head angling to the side to offer up more of his neck for the warm kiss that sparks more heat to flood through him.

Lifting the hand closest to Danta, the touch is gentle against his cheek before his fingertips grow a touch rougher in the blonde strands, deftly easily missing the beads and adornments his lover had decided to wear that day. “Is that so?” He purrs distractedly, his smile tugging up far more playful and sharp. He takes a moment to guide Danta back to peer at him in the mirrors before his other hand is lifting slowly against his own body, up toward the chain clasp that keeps it connected to his neck. Unlatching it and sweeping it off his shoulders to fall to the side in a rather large thud in comparison, the butcher’s smirk blooms a touch wider as he loosens his hold on the Maverick. “Is this better, darling?” Completely shed of the clothes and additions added, warm and aroused in the ways that he wisely assumes has Danta’s mouth watering.

Astaroth

if you want me all to yourself, then take on the leap

// you knew who I was //

Asta assumes right, and as the chain cloak falls to the ground loudly enough to have his lips curling in mischievous delight, Danta is already putty in the butcher's hands. Indeed, as he turns to face him once more, the Maverick melts forward to drape against Asta's front, an arm curling loosely around his neck. "This is much better," he whispers, all too aware of the way their bodies have caged their arousal between them. Danta nevertheless angles his hips forward, inhaling sharply at the friction against his cock.

"Are you going to fuck me against one of these mirrors?" he wonders, his voice barely beyond a whisper as he leans up, balancing on one leg so he might hook the other around Asta's hips. "Or here on the platform where you can see us on all the walls?" Danta has learned enough this season so far to leave the decisions to the butcher - his pleasure is absolutely guaranteed either way.

Dantalion

// with every step that I ran to you //

we thieves and lovers will keep up our urges to sin, to sin
let your desire be simply acquired within, within

“Very good.” He purrs through the grin that greets Danta as he melts forward, immediately finding a place to put his hands — a smooth stroke from beneath his shoulders down along the jut and curve of his thin body, over silvery and raised scars to his hips. As Danta’s leg wraps around his own, the butcher’s tail sweeps out to wind around the leg still planted in a steadying motion. Though the movement has a hitch of his own breath escaping him as their arousals are pinned between them.

Rolling his hips gently to continue the sensation, however brief and as much of a taunt as it is for the both of them, Asta’s hands curve backward, stroking fingers along the base of Danta’s tail to the curve of his ass. “The platform, obviously, darling.” Comes the confirmation, the sharp smirk that greets his lover as he dives in to steal a quick and too chaste kiss.

He withdraws from it to drag the kiss to the inside of his arms that are still wound around his neck. “I love seeing each reaction I can drag out of you.” His fingers tap against the swell of his ass to punctuate the point, before he’s twisting him around to face the mirrors, still planted in the middle of the platform. His hand sweeps around his lover’s middle as he readjusts them, one hand lifting up to cup the Maverick’s neck, the other delving down to loosely snag his cock in a not fully there grip but with enough friction to feel something.

Astaroth

if you want me all to yourself, then take on the leap

// you knew who I was //

"Oh, obviously," Danta repeats, a touch breathless and grinning as if he's been a fool to imagine otherwise. Asta's hands paint lines of fire wherever they drag along his body, the Maverick's tail thrashing its frustrated delight to have his lover pinned so close and yet feeling still so far away from him. Humming encouragingly into the kiss that is far too quick and far too chaste for his liking, he's nevertheless turned with ease to face the mirrors, the memory of Asta's mouth and hands still all over him.

"And I love seeing you get to work," he whispers, his voice hitching a touch as the other man's hands carefully encircle his throat and his cock at the same time. And it's not enough, as Asta well knows it won't be, though Danta - accustomed to teasing and being a shit as he is - rocks his hips back rather than forward, grinding against his lover's arousal and watching him expectantly through their array of reflections.

"Make me moan," he almost challenges, voice husky with reckless desire.

Dantalion

// with every step that I ran to you //

we thieves and lovers will keep up our urges to sin, to sin
let your desire be simply acquired within, within

Astaroth would silently consider him a fool to think otherwise, so it’s good that they don’t delve down that rabbit hole in favor for the way he twists Danta around to press against him, letting him take in the view reflected back at them. The way the other Ancient fits so perfectly against him, the difference between Danta’s pale skin and the way that Asta’s darker olive toned arm as it covers a portion of his lover’s with the hand cupped against his throat while the other delves down in a teasing touch.

“I know you do.” The butcher purrs, head twisting to press a warm kiss against the other Ancient’s shoulder, his thumb brushing against the side of his neck. His dark hair sweeps across his skin in a featherlight touch, huffing a breathy laugh that’s broken into a small grunt as Danta grinds against his hard cock rather than angling forward to get more friction. He should have anticipated, if he’s being honest with himself, but he’s losing his rational thought in favor for thinking solely through the lusting portion of his mind.

He hears the nearly there challenge, the smirk that presses against his lover’s shoulder rises to peer over his shoulder at him in the mirror. “So demanding tonight, darling.” Comes the chastising, the brief squeeze of his hands both on his lover’s neck and his length, utilizing the distraction to readjust them again. The hand at his lover’s throat loosens, pressing against his collarbones now, stroking his cock a little quicker and harder as he grinds his hips against Danta’s ass for his own added friction.

And just like that, he releases him, hands falling away from his lover as if in an exhale of breath. “On your knees.” It’s his turn to grow demanding, challenging.

Astaroth

if you want me all to yourself, then take on the leap

// you knew who I was //

They do make a very fine pair together, according to their reflections, and Danta feels, not for the first time, how the rest of the world might be envious to see him on Asta's arm. The butcher is a work of art no matter how he's dressed (or not, as it turns out) or whether he's playing at effortless charm or barely contained chaos. And as his fingers squeeze about his throat, the Maverick is left with a fanged smirk curling across his lips, one that dissolves into a silent moan with the sudden friction against his cock and pressing against his backside.

"Gods," he whispers, the word almost a gasp as Asta releases him as quickly as he'd taken hold of him, and Danta is sinking to his knees, utterly obedient, before the demand even properly hits the air. He doesn't ask out loud if this is to the other man's liking - he doesn't need to, he thinks - his blue eyes pinned to the butcher's reflection behind him. Spreading his knees to get properly accommodated on the platform and leaning forward on one hand, he raises his eyebrows questioningly, running his tongue across his teeth.

Dantalion

// with every step that I ran to you //

we thieves and lovers will keep up our urges to sin, to sin
let your desire be simply acquired within, within

It’s funny, because while Danta might be surprised and swooning at the idea of being on his arm, it’s precisely the opposite for the butcher. He’s his shadow, the one that always lingers close and watchful with that charming, unholy obsession. What a pair they do make, where each of them stand in bewilderment that they get to be on each other’s arm.

Ah, but those charming thoughts are for Deepfrost Asta, because right now he’s too focused on the feel of Danta against his skin, the way his hand at his throat can feel the hitch of his breath and the beat of his pulse as it quickens, the nearly there vibration that dissolves before it can fully take root.

The Maverick does as is requested, though, and sinks down to his knees and finds the brilliantly sharp grin aimed at him from where he hovers above. It’s temporary, and Danta will find that it is to his liking as he follows him down, one knee popping as he catches the beautiful blues of Danta’s gaze, the drag of his tongue across his teeth that has the butcher’s blood burning hotter. He situates himself between Danta’s legs, his hands smoothing up his back and sides, flaring brilliantly hot fire along his spine to caress his torso and neck, crafting a little collar of heat around his neck as he uses it as a distraction. “Gods, Dantalion, you are perfect.” He purrs in a rougher, accented tone, lining them up properly but not sinking in just yet. Just deep enough to drive him crazy, knowing fully well Danta would sink back the moment he could.

Astaroth

if you want me all to yourself, then take on the leap

// you knew who I was //

Following Asta's reflection in the mirrors as he sinks between his legs, Danta is suddenly impatient and hungry for the fraying control he knows is strumming through the butcher's body. It won't take much at all, he can tell, for them to finish what the season's mood has started, but as fire licks its way up the length of his spine, it's entirely instinctive, the way his back arcs into it, the way his throat bares to the necklace of flame.

Only for you, he might have said, though the words that try to form melt away again as his lover adjusts himself so teasingly against him. Danta has never been described as perfect before Asta - never felt anything like it until now. But the other man always finds a way to make him feel wanted, coveted even, that he has neither the will nor the energy to put up an argument.

Instead, just as Asta has suspected, he sinks back onto his cock the moment he feels as if he can get away with it, begging the butcher to thrust forward and fill him at the same time. A moan breaks from his lips at last, raw and unbidden, and his other hand drops to brace himself against the platform.

Dantalion

// with every step that I ran to you //