the gold and the rust

// you knew who I was //

Rumbling a laugh against the other man's lips - don't tempt him, Asta, because he'll definitely do it again as soon as he's able - it's a long few moments where passing out feels preferable to drawing away, but eventually Danta does need to breathe. Panting hard against the pillows and tilting his head willingly to allow the butcher to mark him, he can only grin at his comment, however sentimental it threatens to be.

"I know," he huffs, as if to make it better. "Don't forget it."

Drawing back just enough to catch the mischief in warm black eyes, Danta raises a brow only to be suddenly assaulted by fluffy white feathers. Shifting back onto his knees as if to try and avoid them, of course it's impossible, the light sheen of sweat on his skin acting as a perfect surface for them to stick to. "He sneaks into my bed, shreds my bedding, and now this," he drawls, trying (and failing) to swipe them away and snorting out a laugh.

He's not quite cruel enough to throw feathers between them (because they will stick, and it won't be to sweat), Danta nonetheless reaches out to sprinkle a few into the other man's hair, crowning him in angelic down.

"Suits you," he purrs. "Perhaps you should reconsider life as a nun."

Dantalion

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

// standing, stomping in the damage and the ruins of a slip of tongue //

“Darling, it would be impossible to forget.” He drawls, shifting the second that Danta does, figuring it works better for his sly attempt at coating Danta with the pure white downy feathers. And he watches with delight as his tail curls around the other man’s hip at the failed attempts to swat it away. “Surprisingly, white suits you.” The grin returns with an air of amusement, though, given just how much he starts to think white and gold would be a great addition to add to the Maverick’s wardrobe.

But the retaliation is placed in a spot that’s immensely better than between them to stick to the less, and Astaroth snorts as he sits up a bit more, tilting his head in a way that has more feathers falling over his shoulders and fluttering down from the crown of his head. “Perhaps you should be a priest.” His lips quirk in a smaller smirk, before he’s suddenly surging forward and latching onto Danta to twist them.

Pressing the Maverick down into the bed it’s with a snap of teeth to his neck and a playfully apologetic kiss that he withdraws to stand, feathers falling further in a slow descent to the floor, sticking to the wine that had spilled from the goblet the night before. His back to Danta, he stretches, and the shorter man might notice a distinct lack of tension in his shoulders as he looks over one of them back toward Danta. “Care to join me for a bath?”

Astaroth

// with tragic consequences, i think that we've all made our gravest mistakes //

// you knew who I was //

Scoffing and managing to pull at least one feather off his exposed skin - for all the difference it makes - Danta doesn't exactly disagree, but the idea of any white clothing remaining that way once he starts wearing it is laughable, as he imagines they will both agree. "A priest?" he echoes, raising his eyebrows. "Is that so? I'll let Charlie know later today - I'm sure she'll be delighted." Priest is a step down from Theocrat, granted, but Danta can actually see himself doing something like that if he ever gives up leadership over the Grounds.

It's at this point that Astaroth takes advantage of his thoughtful musings, and it's with a hitch of surprised breath that Danta suddenly finds himself pinned beneath the butcher, feeling heat in his cheeks and down his neck despite the fact that his body is in no position to take again just yet. Grumbling something that might be construed as affectionate if one listens closely, the Maverick gets his elbows beneath him to watch the other man straighten up.

Running his tongue across his teeth (because no small part of him wants to prowl after Asta for reasons that have nothing to do with getting clean), eventually he hums an affirmative and also rolls to his feet. "Why not," he rumbles, sauntering past - and if he's able, his tail will flick out to slap at the other man's bare ass as he goes by.

~FIN

Dantalion

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