black magic preacher

in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue

For all of the events leading up to now, there's still a sliver of cognitive dissonance in Danta to see the taller man's sharp teeth so close to his most sensitive parts; simultaneously his cock twitches in anticipation of pleasure and yet his jaw clenches in case he's about to lose a very important asset. But let it never be said that the Maverick isn't glad to be wrong sometimes, because as Asta takes him into his mouth it's with a breathless and stuttering moan that he arches back against the sheets.

One hand tangles automatically into dark hair and darker horns, the other clutching at the sheets as if it might prevent his hips from rising and gagging the other man on the length of him. "Fuck," he hisses, eyes squeezing shut despite the fact that he also wants to burn this image into his mind forever.

Dantalion

so give me your prayers up on your feet
and i'll give you a show, it helps fill the seats

There’s something that’s almost more satisfying in reducing Dantalion to this as opposed to his previous endeavors. Cowering fear, while fun for him, wasn’t the same as being able to drag this kind of response out of him, and with the fingers that thread through his dark hair, undoing it from its carefully slicked back state. Fingers snag on pronged horns and it only spurs Astaroth on, eyes opening the second he hears the curse leave the Maverick.

The pace slows and he rises to the very tip of Danta’s cock, hot tongue dragging along it as he removes himself completely, hands dragging nails along his thighs, slipping back down to his backside to keep loosening him up. He peers at him in that very Astaroth Arrogance despite his panting and the redness to his lips. “Careful, I might be thinking you’re enjoying this too much.” He drawls in a slightly hoarser tone, moving to blanket Danta again, hands possessive as they maneuver the Maverick’s legs up and over his own hips, giving him little time before he growls out a groan, slipping into him with a shudder of relief.

Astaroth

so give me your sins, give me your lies
but whisper your love, and i'll whisper mine

in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue

Arrogant and a fucking tease as it so happens, Danta hissing in another curse as he feels the other man leave him desperately wanting, and cold blue eyes flutter open to gaze down the length of his body at Astaroth, shit-eating expression and all. "Don't flatter yourself, I haven't screamed your name yet," he whispers back, voice tight from the other Ancient's continued ministrations.

With fair hair a tousled mess and his cheeks pink from wine and pleasure both, the Maverick happily welcomes the other man between his thighs, the hot weight of his body already enough to send a lick of pleasure thrumming through the base of his spine. Seeming to relax and tense up all at the same time as Asta finally enters him, Danta's hiss of encouragement comes pressed against the side of the Ancient's throat, blunt fingernails leaving crescents along his back and shoulders.

"Like you mean it," he pants against the shell of his ear.

Dantalion

so give me your prayers up on your feet
and i'll give you a show, it helps fill the seats

A breathy laugh leaves him as Danta’s tight voice reaches him and a smirk remains curled at the corners of his lips. “Well, if that’s on the table…” He drawls, blanketing Danta, slipping into him with surprising ease and relief, it’s with a growl that reaches the Maverick’s ear as his lips press against his throat. A low hum that breaks into a moan leaves him as he picks exactly the pace that suggests precisely that he means it.

He noses his way in against Danta’s neck, teeth biting in little marks against his skin, not hard like the last time (like he’s only intending to mark and not devour), but his hands continue to move, one snaking down between them to match the stroking pace on the Maverick’s length that matches the thrusts Astaroth provides, growling a breathy sound against his skin.

Astaroth

so give me your sins, give me your lies
but whisper your love, and i'll whisper mine

in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue

It's on the table, but whether it's achieveable is entirely up to Astaroth, though Danta soon becomes aware that the other man is in it to win it. Soon rendered silent by the brutal pace and the slap of skin against skin, at first Danta can only offer his encouragement in clipped curses or hushed whispers that break into moans.

"Gods, just like that--" he praises just as Asta's hand slips between them, the Maverick's head tipping back to inadvertently expose his throat.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he hisses, almost making it sound resentful, and though they aren't exactly in a rush - not like the last time - that's not to say that the other man isn't doing a thorough job at teasing him closer to his climax in record time.

Dantalion

so give me your prayers up on your feet
and i'll give you a show, it helps fill the seats

As it turns out, Astaroth still hasn’t quite figured out the right amount of time. But he is in it to win it, and with how infrequently he does this, well, he’s certainly a dog in a chase. Even more so when Danta exposes his throat, and much like seeking out the prize does Asta’s teeth travel directly for it.

It helps that it’s also painted in blood. his own, but still.

Like a shark in the water he leaves marks along Danta’s throat, going so far as to leave one just under his jaw and impossible to hide (not that he figures the Maverick would hide it anyway). The pace remains punishing and Asta breaks from latching onto his neck to nip at a jeweled earlobe, purring a “I want you to fall apart.” Comes the hoarse sound, clearly intending to have Danta do such a thing with the still punishing pace and the matching movement of his hand while the other plants in the bed above him to brace him.

Astaroth

so give me your sins, give me your lies
but whisper your love, and i'll whisper mine

in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue

Pleasure and pain mingle into a ball of chaos that seems to thrum low in Danta's gut and at the base of his throat, the Maverick left panting for breath as the press of the other man's teeth force his head back. Falling apart is on the cards and then some, and while he has no partial shift of claws to draw upon, there will certainly be marks against Asta's back and shoulders, though they by no means rival the old scars there.

"Gods, I'm close--" He moans, unaware - but also not caring - that the curtains are still fluttering over the very open doorway to the balcony. As a result, when Danta cums, it is with Asta's name on his lips - and it's there for all of Torchline to hear.

With a mind entirely blank with static and ecstasy and a sudden and inexplicable urge to hurt as if to balance things out (and that's not a kink, Danta, that's trauma), the Maverick is left adrift in the wake of Asta's own pursuit of pleasure. Happily so, as it happens.

Dantalion

so give me your prayers up on your feet
and i'll give you a show, it helps fill the seats

If he wasn’t so preoccupied with the taste of his blood on his tongue and the teeth leaving marks against the Maverick’s neck, he might have found it in him to respond. As it stands, he’s far too distracted by the lullaby leaving Danta’s lips, the feel of him, the heat radiating between them. All he can offer is his own symphony, paired with chasing that rabbit.

And it’s true that he is close, because no sooner than it leaves his lips, does the warm mess spread between them and Asta gasps with the sensation, his name cries out loud enough that if he cared more about his status he might find shame in appearing along the alleys of this seedy region. But he doesn’t, and he growls his pleasure as the tension snaps within him and his calves tingle with the sensation as he lurches forward into Danta as he cums, panting and shifting incredibly fast as he presses his forehead against Danta’s sternum, biting the inside of his cheek enough to draw blood once again.

It drips from the corner of his mouth as he draws up, muscles trembling, hand snaking up between them to grip Danta’s jaw and crash into his lips for a greedy kiss.

Astaroth

so give me your sins, give me your lies
but whisper your love, and i'll whisper mine

in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue

Later Danta might realise how close he's come to having his throat ripped out, but for the here and now he's only just about capable of coherent thought again, such that as Asta grips his jaw and pours a kiss against his lips, he offers little more than a hoarse moan in return. The tang of blood on the other man's tongue is almost addictive, granted, and although he does need to clean up, for now he melts into the sensation, his arms chasing possessively around Asta's shoulders, the need to breathe secondary to the press of lips and tongue.

It does win out eventually, though, and it's with his chest heaving that he parts from the other man, head lolling back into the pillows. "Fuck," he whispers, patting the bed for an errant item of clothing - it's his own shirt, don't worry - to wipe away the evidence of the pleasure Asta has dragged from him.

"Fuck," he says again, and this time the words are painted around a smile. Discarding the shirt and shifting enough to roll onto his side, he clearly has no intention of letting the other man go, nosing against his dark hair and letting his fingers trace the tips oil-black horns.

Dantalion

so give me your prayers up on your feet
and i'll give you a show, it helps fill the seats

He presses into the kiss before his limbs start to feel wholly boneless, shifting and breaking from the kiss when his lungs seize, only to curl up on his side with Danta’s arms around his shoulders. As the blonde cleans up, Asta pants and waits, brushing back the dark hair from his face, the blood dripping from his lips, only to hum a soft laugh of agreement, flushed and content. “Third ones the charm?” He drawls, hoarser, before he pokes and prods his at his bitten cheek, the joke aside in the air.

It’s about the time Danta nuzzles back in and his bearded jaw presses against the top of his head, tucking him into his side, settling into the pillows with a boneless heaviness that seems to make him appear bigger than he is (it’s the height, honestly). “Do you feel any better?” He asks, wanting to know if it harbored any effect on the beginning of the night and the darker twist it could have taken.

Astaroth

so give me your sins, give me your lies
but whisper your love, and i'll whisper mine

in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue

"Something like that," Danta mumbles, deciding not to punctuate the air with a third fuck just to be contrary about it. Besides, there's much more interesting things to be done now, and as Asta gathers him against his side he goes willingly, throwing a leg across the other man's waist and letting his head tuck in against the crook of his neck. "Much better," he confirms, twisting a lock of dark hair around one of his fingers as if to see if he can make it curl.

"Thanks," he adds, belated but sincere, and now that he's spent in both body and mind, he realises that Asta has succeeded in the element of taking care of him that he'd balked at previously. Scoffing something to the effect that the taller Ancient is an asshole - the words muttered against Asta's throat to add insult to injury - Danta gropes for one of the blankets so he might drag it over them.

Dantalion

so give me your prayers up on your feet
and i'll give you a show, it helps fill the seats

“Mhm.” Asta mumbles, leaning into the touch against his horns, the flicker of the fire bringing out his own muted rainbow hues that are dull in comparison to the Maverick’s. However, he tucks him into his side and curls up with him, hand slipping to rest against Danta’s thigh, nestling in further (now that Danta’s taught him how to cuddle and not be half bad.)

Despite not being able to see it, Danta would feel the smirk that blooms on his face at the thanks, about to respond when he hears the curse and he chuckles a deep sound, that cocky and arrogant grin spreading further. “You’re quite welcome, darling.” He drawls in the face of being called an asshole.

But, as his hair (paired with the humidity of Torchline, does start to make a small curl around Danta’s finger), Asta’s arm slips around Danta’s shoulders to thread and comb through the tousled blonde at his shoulders, still trying to groom him despite it. “You shouldn’t look as ravaged in the morning as last time, at least. I, for once, cannot say the same.”

Astaroth

so give me your sins, give me your lies
but whisper your love, and i'll whisper mine

in space the stars are no nearer; just glitters, like a morgue

Grumbling further and dragging the blankets over the two of them - and it's mostly incoherent complaints now, though perhaps Danta does mumble something about a charming sonovabitch - he relaxes completely, at last, into the bed. And Asta can absolutely pat himself on the back about his skills at pillow-talk and post sex cuddling, which the Maverick confirms have improved exponentially.

"I think you will survive," he purrs, sounding proud of himself now, and of the wound he's left against the other man's shoulder. "You will probably show it off." It isn't as though either of them have anything to hide. As for the attempts on his hair, Danta is much too tired and content to swat Asta away for now, but if he teases too much with the blond locks, he might get a snap of teeth or two for his trouble.

Dantalion

so give me your prayers up on your feet
and i'll give you a show, it helps fill the seats

He’s content to let Danta figure out the blanket situation, boneless as he sinks into the bed with the warmth of Danta pressed up against him, toying with his hair. A snort leaves him to hear the mumble, nuzzling his head into the top of Danta’s blonde locks. And yes, he is absolutely patting himself on the back figuratively.

His lips part to comment on his survival, though, falling silent as the follow up comment, a hint of pride reflecting from the Maverick’s own, muffled in the air between them (or lack there of, with how Danta is pressed against him). “I think I might.” He draws, stifling a yawn, and luckily for the other Ancient, his hand slips away from toying with the blonde locks to smooth down the other man’s spine to settle between his shoulders.

It doesn’t take him a long time before sleep takes him, lulled by exhaustion and the crackling of waves and the sound of people milling about on the streets below through the still open balcony.

- FIN <333

Astaroth

so give me your sins, give me your lies
but whisper your love, and i'll whisper mine