one hundred sleepless nights

reaching for a book of matches
strike a light and then you'll see the real mess that i am

“Oh, I was, but I may have had differing strategies.” And what a shame that would have been, given this comforting closeness that they can’t look at too closely. What a shame indeed.

Amusement fades visibly within the blonde and the butcher’s attention lingers on each shift and change in his face, demeanor, the exhaustion that seems to have settled in. “Surprising.” He says, despite having quite a few varying thoughts dancing around his head of what exactly she anticipated the justice to be. It deflates him a fraction too, but at the very least he has the warm comfort of Danta basically in his lap, a pipe in his hand, and a light buzz from the whiskey he swaps the pipe for if only to keep his other hand against pale, warm skin.

“Why do you think I always have to look the part?” The playful accented banter is offered, before he raises a dark brow and flashes a shark tooth grin. “Also, I am dressed down, thank you very much.” I mean, look at him. His shirt has two buttons unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up, and a smudge of charcoal on his cheek with no tie in sight.

Astaroth

i swear it's nothing personal - i swear it's nothing personal //////

// light shines in the darkness //

"Mm, it really was. Not that I'm complaining too much. I spoke to Charlie before to tell her I might have to replace some of that new decor she'd made for the Temple. At least I don't have to make good on that," Danta reasons with a shrug of his shoulders, settling further against Asta as his clever fingers dance across his skin beneath his shirt.

"Alright, but I don't think you know how to look dishevelled," he quips. "Not on purpose, anyway. And this is dressed down?" Scoffing and sitting back enough to look at the other man properly, of course the Maverick finally notices the smudge of charcoal on his face, and he reaches out to carefully rub it away with his thumb.

"Anyway," he grumbles, as if to tie a little knot in the whole Meeting With Maea situation, "it's done, she'll hopefully stay out of the Whisper, and whenever you feel up to it, you can go out there and do whatever you like."

Dantalion

// and the darkness will never understand it //

reaching for a book of matches
strike a light and then you'll see the real mess that i am

Humming a note as the whiskey goes down and Astaroth picks the pipe back up, he drags a deep pull on it. “Small blessings.” He agrees, content to keep that hand under Danta’s shirt, drawing little designs like he’s one of the pieces of paper to the charcoal Astaroth had used to craft the design for his cane.

Dark eyes take him in as he leans back to get a full view, bringing a barking chuckle out of him as he rolls his eyes. “Correct, shall I dress down more?” Eyeing him with a glint of mischief in his eyes, the butcher stills as Danta fusses over him, wiping away that smudge of charcoal he hadn’t even noticed he’d gotten there.

Consider the knot of the conversation tied, Asta exhales a cloud of smoke, letting it curl around his lips and nose before he shakes his head and glances back down toward the cane sketches. “Thank you, darling.” True gratitude was a rare thing from the Butcher. “You do not seem satisfied, though.” He notes, letting his dark gaze flit back to scan the sharp cut of Danta’s jaw, his free hand slipping up under his shirt a bit as a comforting touch.

Astaroth

i swear it's nothing personal - i swear it's nothing personal //////

// light shines in the darkness //

If you say so, Danta might have said; part of him feels as though he ought to have pushed over a statuette or nudged a painting off the walls just to say he'd managed to cause some damage to the Temple. Alas. With the charcoal safely removed from Asta's cheek, the Maverick's arm slips back around his shoulders, and he raises his eyebrows very approvingly at the suggestion he further dress down. "I don't know what you expect me to say to that," he drawls, letting out a laugh and relaxing back against him.

"Mm? You are always welcome," he purrs in response to the butcher, though as Asta continues Danta can't help but wrinkle his nose; the other man always knows just where to pick at (which, based on their recent conversation about fighting each other, really shouldn't be surprising). "It's just been a funny sort of evening," he admits. "I think part of me was so ready for Maea to object or argue, now it doesn't know what to do with itself."

Dantalion

// and the darkness will never understand it //

reaching for a book of matches
strike a light and then you'll see the real mess that i am

“I half expect you to say yes.” Astaroth boldly claims, though looking nevertheless put off by it. Not as he can get the Maverick to laugh, to smile, anything but this… Strange, knotted up person he sees. So of course, he cuts right to the chase, head cocking slightly to rest his cheek against the arm that settles across his shoulders, taking another drag as he listens, the cherry of the pipe sparking red and illuminating their faces for a brief moment before he exhales out plume – this time, not in Danta’s face of vicinity.

Not that he thinks the blonde would mind, of course.

But he listens, and truly focuses on the thoughts that come out of the Theocrat, and he knows all too well what it’s like to be so prepared and itching for a fight, only for the flame to go out in a whispering blow. It feels frustrating, like one’s insides are bouncing around a helpless cage with no sign of freedom in sight. Bottled up and caught.

He clears his throat and his hand stills a little before it twitches into a possessive sort of hold over the other man’s hip. “I think that you need to relieve some of this tension.” Otherwise, the butcher imagines it’ll hit a little too close to the traumas the Maverick endured in the Climb. “That being said, we can fight out your frustrations, or,” pausing as he arches a brow and continues that cool and aloof façade. “Perhaps you can enact your deal with me from Levinsward, Dantalion.” For the Butcher to make it up to him.

Either way, Astaroth fully intended on getting rid of whatever was tearing him up inside.

Astaroth

i swear it's nothing personal - i swear it's nothing personal //////

// light shines in the darkness //

"But then however will I get to see you like this?" Danta says, gesturing to the unfastened buttons, the rich green of the other man's vest and so on. "...Okay, other than every day," he adds, because it's not like Asta ever wanders around the main floor of the Dusklight looking anything less than immaculate. Either way, the Maverick has already reached out to run his fingers across the gilded buttons at the top of the other man's shirt, his touch grazing ever so briefly against the yellowed bruises beneath.

Humming a note of contentment to feel himself anchored closer to the butcher's heat and touch, Danta raises his eyebrows as if in challenge. "Is that so?" he says, pointedly not thinking about how similar these feelings are to those he harboured in The Climb; balled up anger with no outlet, forced to heel when all he'd wanted to do was tear and savage. "Well I'm not going to fight you, Asta," he already interrupts, as if he might have forgotten that the state of him is in large part why he feels so tense.

As he continues, though, it's with genuine surprise that the Maverick listens, having fully expected sex to be at the very bottom of Asta's priorities. "You sure you're up to the task?" he drawls, fingers slipping beneath the top of his shirt now. Mentally and physically?

Dantalion

// and the darkness will never understand it //

reaching for a book of matches
strike a light and then you'll see the real mess that i am

“Keep that key to my room, I suppose.” He answers with a soft snort, because he certainly wasn’t about to go wander around the Dusklight like this, not if he could help it at all. As Danta had found out, it’s part of the whole vibe he gives off, and it was a powerful thing.

Dark eyes linger on the blonde’s face, even as he can feel those warm fingers trace the wisps of yellow bruising poking out and Astaroth takes a moment to pause to hit the tobacco pipe one more time, giving him the option to decide whether or not they relieve some of this tension within him.

Humming a note with a curl of smoke, the butcher flashes the Maverick a sharp toothed grin. “It is so.” It comes out a touch haughtily, because of the plan running through his head, one that’s already at least half dashed away as Danta says he won’t fight him. But his dark eyes continue to watch for any shift in the Maverick’s face for the second option, sparking a twitch of a smirk to bloom on the corners.

He withdraws his hand from Danta’s hip, though it slides and caresses along the other Ancient’s lower back, before he downs the rest of the whiskey in the glass and snuffs out the pipe, leaning into the wandering touch at his chest, before those hands unbutton the next two buttons of the white shirt, down to the vest he thinks Danta might prefer to deal with himself. Either way, the more revealed his chest is, the more it’s become only green and yellows rather than the stark blues and purples. Obviously the rest he’s been getting has been working.

But because the butcher is the butcher and he is stubborn, a snort escapes him as he pins Danta with a gleam of mischief, (because honestly he’ll do anything right now to make him feel better, even if it hurts himself in the process). “I would not have offered, darling, if I did not think myself capable of it.” He drawls stubbornly, rolling his eyes for added effort. A kind of silent way to say; Come on, play with me.

Astaroth

i swear it's nothing personal - i swear it's nothing personal //////

// light shines in the darkness //

"Hey - it isn't just your room. It opens all the doors in the Dusklight," Danta says with a smug smile, the hand not teasing beneath Asta's buttons starting to gently feather through the back of his dark hair. "But I will keep it, thank you very much." How else is he supposed to climb into the butcher's bed when he isn't looking, or hide trinkets or tricks around the place?

Watching as the glass of whiskey is emptied and Asta snuffs out his pipe through whorls of grey-blue smoke, Danta glances down as the other man so kindly unbuttons his shirt further, and that on its own is an answer to the Maverick's question even before it's reaffirmed with words. "Right, right," he drawls, shifting from the butcher's lap to perch on the desk between his knees, reaching out to stroke greedy hands down the deep green of his vest before beginning to unfasten it.

"How foolish of me to think you, of all people, might just be out to tease." Grinning, because they fucking both know that's absolutely how Asta might choose to play, Danta is nonetheless invested in revealing the other man's bruised chest.

Dantalion

// and the darkness will never understand it //

reaching for a book of matches
strike a light and then you'll see the real mess that i am

Snorting to the smug smile that Danta flashes when it comes to the skeleton key he keeps, Astaroth knows all too well what kind of shenanigans the Theocrat gets up to throughout the establishment. Most of the time, it isn’t his problem, until of course it’s the time where one of his little trinkets goes missing only to find it in a completely different spot a day later. He knows, Danta.

Dark eyes watch the blonde Ancient as he shifts, finding a space to settle in at the edge of the desk, which gives Astaroth the ability to spread his legs a bit, to lean back and lift his chin, his hands abandoning Danta (selfishly, of course) to have him run both hands through his own dark hair, clasping on the back of his neck to watch as the buttons of his vest start to come loose.

“Me? Never.” He flashes a grin, sharp toothed and with an edge of something hungry within it, pleased to see the shadows leave the Maverick’s sparkling blues. As soon as the vest is completely unbuttoned and more of his chest is visible, the scars lingering within are peppered with a yellow edge around some splotches of green, but it’s quite clear that Astaroth pays it little mind as he moves to stand between the Maverick’s legs, allowing him to dishevel him as much as he would like as he bends down to encroach on the other Ancient’s space, tail whipping about behind him with a hint of excitement. “I could be inclined to, should you deserve it.” Raising a brow with a little do you deserve it? the Butcher settles in like a cat with a mouse.

Astaroth

i swear it's nothing personal - i swear it's nothing personal //////

// light shines in the darkness //

"Mm, that's what I thought," Danta agrees, his voice little more than a teasing purr all of its own. Unfastening the buttons enough to open the butcher's vest, he raises a brow to watch Asta sit back as if this is all a show for his enjoyment, and fuck the other man for the plume of dark heat the sight of him sends curling low in the Maverick's belly. Having reached out to trace a few of the yellow-tinged scars with his fingertips, Danta is promptly interrupted by Asta suddenly crowding into his space, leaving him gazing coyly up at the butcher and his remarks.

"Should I deserve it," he repeats, legs spreading to welcome Asta to stand between them, his hands smoothing down the length of his still half-buttoned shirt. "And what, pray tell, decides whether I deserve it?" Plucking open another button and letting a hand glittering with rings slide to rest against the other man's hip, he tilts his head up at him. "I think I've done plenty tonight alone, if you want me to start listing my accolades."

Dantalion

// and the darkness will never understand it //

reaching for a book of matches
strike a light and then you'll see the real mess that i am

Smirking in spite of himself, the butcher’s eyes glitter with mischief in the face of the coy look shot back up at him, hands finding the table on either side of the Maverick to plant himself precisely right there in his space, invading and taunting, even as Danta’s warm hands pop open another button on his disheveled shirt. “Do you deserve my teasing or taunting for the things you have done tonight?” He reiterates the point, leaning in if only to press that hand against his unblemished hip a bit harder.

One hand lifts from the table, immediately seeking out the sharp jut of his jaw, lifting it with a touch more force than is necessary to ensure their eyes lock. More mischief sparkles in the dark honey of his eyes, his shark grin on display as he drifts in just close enough to give a whisper of a kiss to the other Ancient’s lips, before withdrawing and releasing his jaw to slip his hand down to the fine shirt he wears as the butcher stands up straight, still pressed between Danta’s legs.

“Tell me your accolades and I shall judge them.” It’s stubborn and playful, with all the air of old arrogance and cockiness the butcher had been known for. Depending on the decisions, it could result in praise or a playful variant of punishment. He leaves that precisely in the Theocrat’s court with a cocky grin.

Astaroth

i swear it's nothing personal - i swear it's nothing personal //////

// light shines in the darkness //

"That entirely depends. Is the teasing and taunting a reward or a punishment?" Danta wonders, more than willing to play the part of coy and uninterested (despite the way his pants already feel a little too tight with the butcher all up in his space like this). Leaning into the hand that lifts his jaw, his own fingers spreading in a warm starburst across the other man's chest, the Maverick raises an eyebrow up at Asta only to find a too-soft kiss delivered against his lips.

Hissing a soft curse in the wake of his departure - not that he goes far, but it may as well be a thousand miles away regardless - Danta shoots the butcher a sly smile and proceeds to unfasten the remaining two buttons getting in between himself and the other man's flesh. "Let's see," he drawls. "I dressed my best so I might at least emulate your presence in the Temple." That has to count for a handful of points, at least.

"And I banished the woman who beat you black and blue from all your favourite places. I didn't lay any sort of hand upon her, or on the Temple..." Racking his brain, eventually he lifts blue eyes back up to meet Asta's gaze. "Ah, and I made sure to restock all of your preferred liquors behind the bar."

Dantalion

// and the darkness will never understand it //

reaching for a book of matches
strike a light and then you'll see the real mess that i am

“That depends entirely on you.” Astaroth purrs, amused with the wordplay so far, reiterating the very same points, repeating the very same words, just jumbled and bounced around to mean entirely different things. It’s amusement that lingers behind the aloof appearance, one that seems playful yet indifferent, that threatens to break when he hears the hiss slip from the blonde’s lips as he withdraws.

The last two buttons are freed and his torso is now revealed, even as he doesn’t quite shrug out of all of it yet, instead he simply watches and waits for the accolades to come pouring in. Truth be told, Astaroth wasn’t sure which he’d preferred out of this little arrangement, but he realizes it fairly quickly when it comes to the ego flare that Danta immediately starts with.

Yes, it certainly does rack up a lot of points.

Points that have him standing a bit straighter, slipping out of the vest initially and draping it over the back of the chair, followed by the white shirt that meets the same fate behind him. Now entirely shirtless with the range of his scarred and bruised torso for Danta to focus on, Astaroth bites back the smirk that threatens to form as he continues to listen, rewarding Danta with each one he approves of, starting by reaching out to untie the strap of leather that ties the blonde hair back before following down the back of his neck, over his shoulder, to the other man’s buttoned shirt.

He hesitates here, though, as their eyes meet, and that glimmer of mischief grows in the deepening of the crows feet on the corner of his eyes when a deep chuckle leaves him. “Now you are just flattering me.” He says on the edge of a whine, like it’s too good to be true that it can’t possibly be. So rather than unbutton the other man’s shirt, his hand lifts to cup the side of Danta’s neck, thumb pressing up against the soft underside of his jaw and he meets those blue eyes of the Maverick with a somehow sharper grin, as if waiting to see how he might just explain himself or navigate this. “Too much of a good thing can become suspicious.”

Astaroth

i swear it's nothing personal - i swear it's nothing personal //////

// light shines in the darkness //

"Oh, does it now?" Blue eyes lightning up with something very wicked indeed - does Danta like to be teased? let's find out - the Maverick watches as the man before him removes his clothes with painstaking grace. He barely keeps his greedy fingers to himself, left gazing up at Astaroth as if wondering whether his list of accolades is enough to merit any reward at all. The strip of leather loosed from his hair is a good start, it's true, and the pale blond comes tumbling back around his shoulders, left unadorned thanks to his attempts to seem sleek and dangerous in the same way the butcher does.

But that's where his luck ends, it seems, and the Maverick's hands can't resist sampling the warm skin on display, even if he knows all too well that Asta isn't going to let it go any further than that while he remains displeased. Then again, more than one person can play a game, and Danta raises an eyebrow at his comment. "Is that so?" he drawls. "Gods, I'm glad you told me. What happens between the two of us must be incredibly suspicious indeed by now." At least, if they go by Asta's logic.

"We'd better cut this short so we don't get accused of anything." With a sly wink, Danta straightens up so he might sidle out of Asta's space, a decision that has them more or less flush against one another while he steps away.

Dantalion

// and the darkness will never understand it //