black magic preacher

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

Blah blah blah, tournament.

Honestly, after both he and Asta bet on Deimos and had the Sword come up a winner, it seemed disingenuous to keep to the rules of their engagement given that the result would always be whoever got dibs on Deimos first. Regardless of how things end, Danta will maintain that. (So said because the tourney hasn't yet finished IC, lololol).

And so as the sun starts to dip below the line of the ocean, staining the sky in hues of pink and indigo, Danta is strolling through Haulani with the intention of finding some nice inn to stay in for the night. He also has a coin in his hand.

"Alright, we'll flip on it," he's telling Asta, a devilish smile on his lips. The hearty dose of sunlight, booze and chaos have him in a thoroughly good mood, and he glances to the other man to ask if he's ready. "I choose heads."

Dantalion

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

Not buzzed to the point of being drunk but still comfortable, Asta is very content as he walks alongside Danta, cane clicking against the ground alongside his boots as he lets the shorter blonde decide where they stay tonight. The coin catches his eye and he hums a light laugh, deciding that leaving it to fate was probably for the best. “Tails.” Comes his low rumble, amused at the prospect to decide just how they spend their night.

More realistically, who’s holding the reins.

Watching as Danta flips it, pausing in their adventure toward the Inn, Astaroth waits for the reveal, rolling his eyes with a wrinkle of his nose (entirely for the dramatics of it), because the coin flips and is revealed as heads. “Ack.” He starts, before Danta’s shadow crowds in a little closer. “Well, a deal is a deal. Are you going to keep it a secret?” He asks with a drawled sigh, still feigning all of the dramatics of it.

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

Feeling very smug to see that he's won their bet despite it all, Danta even gives Asta proof of his victory by holding up the coin and turning it, proving that it does, in fact, have both a heads and a tails and he hasn't cheated. "Wonderful," he purrs, turning them down a lane where he can see a hanging sign and a lantern displaying a bustling inn with available rooms.

"Of course I'm going to keep it a secret," he drawls, kicking out at Asta's cane for no other reason than to be a prick, before offering him a saccharine smile and ducking into the establishment. He engages the receptionist in all the small-talk expected of the Maverick in a good mood, sliding her the coin for good measure and receiving a key on a bit of blue string - apparently the colour corresponds to the door they ought to look for.

"Shall we?"

Dantalion

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

Asta huffs a little sound, trying to remain stoic but can’t help the twitch of his lips as Danta seems quite excited. Even so much as kicking at the cane, swinging it wide, which gives him the precise amount of movement to slip it back to smack against Danta’s calf. “Careful now. Bragging is unlike you.” He taunts.

Because they both know it absolutely fucking is like him.

Either way, not knowing what to expect, Asta tries to remain that polite gentleman, standing beside the Maverick as he does all the small talk, inclining his head to the receptionist with a polite smile, before nodding to Danta as they start to step away from the desk. Dark eyes scan the rooms as they wander down the halls, finally settling on a surprisingly beautiful oak door, adorned with blue that matches all around it. “I don’t suppose this is it?” He asks, fully expecting it to be with how he stands idly beside the frame.

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

"What gave it away?" Danta wants to know, tilting his head at the door and its decorations that perfectly match the colour on their key. Smirking and reaching forward to unlock their room, they'll be greeted with a modest sized if not clean and well-decorated (blue, did you guess) space, with soft, sheer curtains fluttering against the open doors to a balconette.

"We didn't have shit like this in the Climb," Danta remarks, glancing around and tossing the key into a bowl before turning on heel to face the taller Ancient. "You stay here," he tells him, all fanged smiles and dark confidence. "I'll be back in a few minutes." It isn't every day one gets to tell a force of nature to sit and have him comply, is it?

Dantalion

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

“You know, I’m not quite sure.” He says, dripping with sarcasm before he inclines his head for Danta to open the door. Inside is surprisingly nice — open and airy and with a balconette that has him drawn toward the warmth that’s sunk into the wood and stone. Either way, he turns just in time to be face to face with Danta and his excitement. “No, we did not. It’s quite nice, though.”

His head tilts a little and he starts to set the cane off to the side. “Alright. If you insist.” Which he’s sure the Maverick does, in a way that burns a small amount of annoyance at just how gleeful the Ancient is. So, proving to be the good boy that he is, Asta sits politely on the edge of the bed, waiting until Danta’s left to shrug out of his coat and hang it on the coat rack, ensuring he’s completely put together by the time he comes back. That, and ensuring that the fireplace is working.

And when he does he’ll find Asta in his silken shirt, standing by the window, watching the hues of color change in the sky as the sun starts to set, silently taking it all in (and basking in the warmth).

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

Danta does insist, yes.

Still, the Maverick isn't gone for very long, and when he does return, it's with both the items he's gone to procure, and a couple of bottles of wine - a local vintage that tastes more like a punch, and hits like one, too. Setting down the bottles on a small side table, he can't help but stare at the tall Ancient at the window; a pristine gentleman, for all intents and purposes, hiding dark, raw chaos beneath. It's enough to make his mouth water.

"If you had told me even a season ago," he murmurs, sidling up behind Asta to press against his back, his hands ghosting down the other man's biceps, "that you and I would have done this once, let alone a second time, I'd have laughed you out of the room." Smiling against his neck, it's with a slow, almost sensual touch that he guides Asta's arms behind his back - only to promptly bind his wrists there.

"Funny how things work out, isn't it?"

Dantalion

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

The door opens and Asta glances over his shoulder to spot the Maverick arrive, with a bundle of items in his hands. He focuses back out to the sunset, watching as the darkness creeps in from the setting sun, awaiting the approach and not at all surprised by the gentle feel of Danta’s hands on him.

It does have his chin dipping a little, arms moving as Danta gestures. “Truth be told, I am surprised as well.” He rumbles as a quiet admission, keeping his posture just as straight even as his hands are bound behind him. His head tilts to look back at Danta over his shoulder, horns imposing a long shadow against the blonde.

“I don’t despise it thus far, though.” Given the opportunity, though, and the infrequency of when Asta gets the sensation and thought to even indulge, it makes it far more comfortable that Danta is the one to handle him in the moment, even if his dark brow rises with the choices made so far.

Hands bound first, now what?

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

"Thus far," Danta echoes, smiling against the other man's throat and giving the bindings an experimental tug to ensure they're secure. Asta won't be able to see it yet, but later, if he gets a chance, he'll note that they're made of the same fine leather as a certain matchbook - as is the other item the Maverick has procured.

"Now, don't be angry with me," he continues, the words sounding like a petition even if they're wrapped in that same dark smile. "This just means that if you've had enough you'll have to find another way of telling me." Cryptic remarks to say the least, but for Asta it will likely all make sense as Danta's hands come up again, smooth and swift, ghosting along the taller man's shoulders - and suddenly snagging around his mouth.

To call the tough strip of leather a muzzle might be giving it too much credit - but it'll certainly put up a fight if the other man wants to try and bite through it, and the buckle Danta fastens seems sturdy as well. "Would it be cruel of me to say I've wanted to see you like this for a while?"

Dantalion

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

He can’t see it yet, but it isn’t uncomfortable. The leather presses against his wrists in a way that’s smooth and doesn’t pinch, even as the Maverick tests it and Asta does the same as he shifts his arms a little. It goes nowhere, though, and he’s immediately focusing on the touch the Maverick sparks, up his shoulders as confusion flares over the anger, lips parting to try and ask why that might be, when suddenly he’s muzzled.

“Mm,” is all he can surmise to say, but given the body language he seems to almost say fine, because a deal was a deal and Asta was a man of his word. Sharp teeth nibble at the leather, getting nowhere, at least until Danta’s last comment reaches his ears and a deep rumble of a laugh leaves him, snorting through his nose as he squints a little back at Danta.

It’s with a cocky arrogance the cannibal is known for, but it almost seems to scream is it everything you hoped for?

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 is and then some, Danta cocking his head as if to make sure he's properly heard the lack of a coherent response from the other man. "That's what I thought you'd say." He grins, his fingers smoothing across Asta's shoulders as the Maverick moves at last, stepping around to stand before him. "I think it rather suits you," he murmurs of the muzzle, leaning in to drop a kiss or two against the strong line of Asta's jaw.

Meanwhile his hands are busy unfastening the buttons of his silk shirt, tugging it open so he might bare the taller man's scarred chest and continue his greedy explorations. "I never realised how alike we were," Danta continues, conversational despite the fact that it's understandably one-sided, and he leans in to blaze a trail of kisses down the side of Asta's neck, his hands possessive at the other man's waist.

"Want to know a secret, though?" he whispers, and suddenly the cadence in the Maverick's voice is softer, almost sinister in its confession.

"I don't really get bloodlust any more, I don't think. I'm always hungry."

And this time it's Danta who'll leave marks on the other man's skin - and then some - because as his sharp teeth come down against Asta's neck, he breaks the skin completely, and the heady scent of blood fills the room.

Dantalion

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

Dark eyes made darker by the calculating curiosity Astaroth remains there bound with, follow the Maverick as he moves to stand in front of him, clearly expecting a bit more taunting now that he can’t quite literally bite back. But rather than words coating the air between them, warm lips press to the line of his jaw and it has that sliver of tension in his shoulders starting to relax (a mistake, as he’ll find out soon enough).

He remains straightened, shoulders pulling back a little as if to offer more room for Danta to explore his crisscross carved out chest, the scar tissue tough where its settled against his sternum and the edges, while his head tilts slightly as if in question to the Maverick, wishing for him to elaborate, yet also offering plenty of space along his skin for Danta to continue to explore, tugged a little closer in the possessiveness of his hands.

A low murmur of a sound is heard, saying a mumbled yes to wanting to know what the secret is, his tail waving behind him back and forth in his anticipation. And gods, if the muzzle wasn’t there, the grin would be all teeth and sharp, and Danta wouldn’t have a chance to bite first. In reality, though, the Maverick is the only person who’s managed to leave a love mark on the cannibal, and it sparks an electric thrum in his gut, nostrils flaring and a muffled out sound akin to a bitten back moan leaves him, buried in the leather that keeps him quiet.

His pain tolerance has always been high since he’d become an Ancient, attributing it to the gore crow attack and the layers of scar tissue, but the Maverick had found a slightly more sensitive spot, the iron tang filling  his nose immediately and the throbbing sensation of warm blood pooling against his skin. He’s going to be sore tomorrow, but for now his skin flushes and pulses with dull pain, and its evident immediately that Astaroth doesn’t hate it.

It's not his particular flavor, but that doesn’t mean he can’t indulge in it further as his head tilts, offering up more expanse of his scarred body for Danta to explore and test, particularly while he couldn’t do anything more than wind his flicking tail up to brush against the outside of Danta’s leg.

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

Danta surges forward as if given permission by the rumble in Asta's throat and chest, dragging bloody lips along his jaw and snaking his hands up to push down on the other man's shoulders, as if to force him onto his knees. The scent of rust in the air and the crimson dripping from his chin (and soaking greedily into Asta's silk shirt, and down his chest, and gods know where else) is enough to make the Maverick lightheaded, and as he steps away, it's without being fully cognizant of the movement.

Running his tongue across bloody teeth, Danta collects the cane that his fellow Ancient has painstakingly placed within the room, turning back to approach Asta with all the soft steps of a predator. "I think you used to have one of these back in The Climb too, didn't you?" he says, reaching out to use the head of the cane to tilt up the other man's chin. "I recall being on the receiving end of it, once or twice."

And he sees it, too, all at once in his mind's eye - if he were to step back in this blue room and lash the cane out with enough force to crack a skull. He sees the spray of blood that would fleck onto the walls, hears the sound of fracturing bone. And if Asta went down from it, gods, what would stop Danta from turning him inside out with sharp teeth and blunt fingers and painting the whole place red?

Suddenly it isn't the taller man bound and muzzled before him, either. It could be any hapless stranger on a bad day, any Ancient he's been told to target. Maybe it's even Morax, getting everything she deserves.

Danta hasn't realised he's propped the cane casually over one shoulder, or that he's gazing down at the other man with more murder than lust in his eyes, but as a group of people outside laugh and jostle each other as they head up the street, something jerks him back to reality.

Blinking and feeling a sudden, sick mix of enjoyment and guilt (a foreign emotion and he doesn't like it), the Maverick lets the cane slip from his fingers to clatter on the floor. "Shit," he mutters. "Shit, sorry, I..." Shaking out his hands as if they've gone numb, Danta reaches out to tug the strip of leather from Asta's mouth, to hastily unbind his hands.

"This was a bad idea. I don't think I can do this."

Dantalion

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

Blood spreads from the bite up the side of his neck toward his bearded jaw, Astaroth incapable of doing much in the sudden and quick realization that the Maverick was much stronger than he was, is easily forced to his knees when Danta applies pressure to his shoulders. And from his height, it isn’t exactly graceful. He drops with a thud, a huff of air from his nose as his dark gaze continues to watch Danta, especially as he collects the cane.

He did, in fact, have one back then. And he had used it a great deal of times on varying things that he’d been told to. But it’s still with a hint of wariness that creeps in as Danta starts to pass over a threshold of haha fun! to haha, fuck you! with the lifting of his chin by the handle of the cane. Of course, he does as instructed, the bite still dripping a little stream of blood into his silken shirt, but his dark gaze remains wholly focused on the Maverick.

And then laughter from outside changes something. And he sees Danta suddenly in a way that he’d never expected to see him. There’s no flinching or wincing when the cane clatters, just a statuesque watchfulness that Asta offers as Danta comes to, peering up at him from dark hair that’s fallen into his eyes.

The muzzle is removed first, followed by the bindings, and the taller Ancient surges to his feet, immediately moving to crowd Danta. “It’s alright. You didn’t hurt me.” Comes the deep rumble, hands and tail trying to pull the Maverick in against his scarred chest. Sure, he was bleeding, but to be honest it was nothing in comparison. “Would you prefer to talk about it or would you prefer to dip into the wine and forget about it?” He asks, his hand threading through Danta’s shoulder length blonde, snagging at a diamond horn.

Astaroth doesn’t care one way or another. Danta had helped him through his own panic when faced with gore crows. It only seems fair that he does the same now with this.

Astaroth

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