[SE] I walk my days on a wire

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

Battering back his own feelings (confusing as they are to tease through, let alone admit) in lieu of not wanting to be... er, smited? smitten? smote by the Doubletake and her demigodly cohort, Danta pauses on the way into the inn, stood in the doorway and conveniently leaving Asta out in the rain for a few extra seconds as he replies. "But do you want it to be?" he asks. Official, he means. "And if you don't, does Flora know that?"

Holding the butcher's dark gaze for a fraction longer, perhaps, than is necessary, eventually Danta does turn and duck through the doorway properly, shoving up the muddy sleeves of his shirt and adjusting his bag on his shoulder before heading straight to the bar to hopefully procure some rooms - plural - for them. Asta might be fine with being dumb as a stick in all matters outside of causing pain, but Danta quite likes being alive.

Dantalion

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

“No.” The gut reaction is immediate, visceral in how it both feels good to admit and terrible — because he knows the implications of what he’ll soon have to talk to Flora about, how it might crush her even if he wasn’t one hundred percent sure what she was feeling was lust over love. And while he could certainly dabble in the lust part (as one sided as it might be), love was an entirely different ordeal.

He’s said it so quickly that he frowns in the seconds after Danta ducks into the inn, hesitating as he shakes his head and sighs, trailing after Danta as his tail continues to whip in his annoyance. “I don’t know what she wants out of it.” He admits, begrudgingly collecting his key when the innkeeper brings out two. “I will have to talk to her.” He grits out a little sharply, lips forming a fine line rather than the usual smile.

Hardly waiting, he reads the number on the key and starts to trudge up the stairs toward his room.

Astaroth

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

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

Asta's response is as immediate as it is surprising to Danta, and not just because of the speed of the reply. Feeling something relax and uncoil in his belly and shoulders that has no right to be there but that is equally as difficult to ignore, he slides the butcher's key across to him just as he collects his own. Because his point, unfortunately, still stands, whether or not Asta is intending to speak to Flora or not. He knows enough about the Doubletake to know that the wires are likely already crossed, and he doesn't envy the other man trying to uncross them.

He'd been about to ask whether the other man wants to stick around at the bar for a bit - to talk more, to drink, to watch the rain as it starts to lash angrily against the window panes - but Asta is already stalking upstairs like Danta's departing shadow, and the Maverick follows on his heels. "I suppose I'll see you in the morning then," he tells him, shoving his key into the door - they're down the hall from one another, as it so happens, so not even close enough for Danta to try and bother him by tapping on the walls.

Dantalion

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

Relief might spread through Danta’s body, but tension swells in his, trying to figure out how it must have gone so wrong so quickly. It’s what breeds the frustration in his bones, the uncertainty of how to start the conversation. The fact that the two of them barely knew each other, and what she might feel if they were to continue with her knowing what he was.

His tail continues to whip as he walks down the hall, tension in his shoulders and making him appear more butcher than the Asta that had awoken, and he pauses by the door to hear Danta’s voice with a soft nod, a glance over his shoulder. “Goodnight, Danta.” It’s deeper than previously, like he's distracted, and he opens the door to slink in and shut it behind him.

Locking it immediately, the butcher does little more than sit at the foot of his bed and play with the fire he rages in the fireplace, situating his thoughts as the minutes and hours tick on.

Astaroth

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

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

Goodnight it is.

The storm that rolls in that evening is one to rival those that constantly plague the Levinsward, and only fleetingly does Danta consider that the small seed he'd planted might have gotten more water than it perhaps needed. The Maverick spends the rest of the time with his food and wine, watching out of the window and trying to amuse himself with the parchment left on the small desk.

A few paper crows and trees later and he's given up and gone to bed - not that he can get much sleep at all.

By the time midnight comes and goes, Danta has given up entirely, and demigodly punishment or no, this is bullshit and he's done. Slipping out of bed on bare feet and dragging on the same wine-dark pants as earlier, he doesn't bother buttoning them up as he creeps for his door, clicking the lock silently and stepping out into the silent, absolute darkness.

He can't remember how many doors it is to get to the butcher's room, but he recalls the number on the key, and so it's squinting far too closely at the rooms as he creeps past that he tries to figure it out.

Dantalion

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

Sleep evades the butcher, despite the lull he’s tried to put himself into. Rain flits against the window to his room, at times hitting so hard that it nearly sounds like rocks are getting thrown against the glass. There’s a bottle of whiskey already missing some of its contents, a tray of food plucked at, notes written out and crumpled and tossed into the fire he keeps high and bright.

By the time he’s been tossing and turning in the bed, completely sleepless and a little drunk, the butcher rises with a sigh and rubs at his face for a few long moments. Vest gone, shirt tugged on half buttoned, his hand meets the doorknob before the hesitation can fully grip him.

He finds suddenly that he doesn’t care what Flora would think, (or if she even cared in the first place), and maybe there’s a fucked up additional fleeting thought of what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her, because unfortunately the Maverick has conditioned the butcher into the comfort of a warm body in his bed, and now with the Theocrat down the hall in the same building but not the same room, he finds it impossible to swallow.

He doesn’t want to be alone tonight.

The door swings open at precisely the time Danta’s squinting into his door to read the number, and having not expected it the butcher’s instincts immediately have him reaching for the Theocrat before his mind can catch up and actually say anything, tugging him in and shutting the door to push him back against the wood, sharp teeth made even sharper with the glint of flame reflected. “Oh.” He breathes out a second after the realization sinks in, fingertips twitching like he isn’t sure what to do.

Astaroth

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

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

Unsure why Dygra never saw fit to give her children night vision, Danta's brow is furrowed as he tries to make out the number on this latest door, aided at least by the line of firelight beneath it - only for it to suddenly swing open. With a sharp inhale and a muttered apology ready on his tongue, the words die in the open air, swallowed up by the hands that suddenly seize him. There's fire immediately at his fingertips as the door slams shut, the Maverick's bare shoulders pressed back against the wood by the presence that cages him in, and he's fully prepared to punch or headbutt his way out of the predicament when he catches sight of an oh-so-familiar crown of fire obsidian.

Blinking up at Asta, all bared teeth and a lashing tail and eyes made mahogany by the nearby flames, oh is quite accurate, and Danta doesn't really have anything clever to add. The fire in his hands snuffs out - he'll apologise later for the singes to the butcher's sleeves - and for a moment it's enough to simply stand in the warmth from the other man's body. For a moment being the operative word.

Leaning up from the closed door, Danta's lips are on Asta's before his mind has fully made itself up about the decision, an arm looping around his shoulders, his free hand grasping the strong line of the butcher's jaw. Saying the things words can't with a tongue made clever by kisses, Danta fights to back them up towards the other man's bed - clearly enough of the night has been wasted already, however the rest of it goes from here.

Dantalion

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

It’s like dealing with an angry cat, or two tom cats aiming for a fight initially as Astaroth grabs Danta and drags him in, his tail lashing and teeth bared, fire reflecting and cutting a menacing shadow on the both of them when the realization hits.

And it’s to fanged bared teeth and fire singing his sleeves but snuffed out before they can completely ruin his sleeves that he meets Danta’s darkened gaze. His fingertips twitch against his bare skin, warm and perfect, at a loss for words aside from the oh that leaves him.

It should be a pause, a reset, of the butcher releasing Danta and apologizing in turn, when neither of them happen and the blonde is surging up to claim his mouth with a kiss that’s all encompassing. A warm arm loops around his neck, the other hand grabbing his jaw roughly — as if he could even imagine pulling away with the sweet song he chases in Danta’s kiss. Humming a vibrating note into it, the hands that had been used to pin him previously drop to his hips, walking back with a certain dexterity of ensuring that neither of them slice their tongue on his too sharp teeth.

Clumsily, his calves hit the bed first, causing him to stumble down and back, breaking the kiss as he tugs the Theocrat down with him, swallowing down the gushing his mind wishes to do — I missed you, you’re beautiful, I’m so glad you’re here, I’m sorry I pinned you to the door — and after a moment of peering at him while he pants to try and catch his breath, his hands lift to tangle roughly in golden strands, pulling him back in for another greedy kiss.

Astaroth

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

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

It says something that Danta likely wouldn't care if he'd tasted iron in Asta's kiss, but the butcher isn't the only one who has started to keep track of bloodlust, and he'd quite like to keep his tongue in his head tonight. It's enough - more than enough - to feel the possessive grip of hands at his waist, to have the other man stumble back along with him until the bed hits the backs of his knees and they both go down. The bed isn't as comfortable as their rooms in the Dusklight, but honestly anywhere would do now that he can feel the thunder of Asta pulse under his fingertips.

Shifting to hold himself over the butcher, Danta is neither upset nor surprised to find himself pulled back down against the other man's mouth, and he hums a greedy note of satisfaction and leans into the tug of fingers in his hair. Parting after what feels like both too long and nowhere near enough, he treats himself to a chaser of kisses against the side of Asta's neck, panting softly against his olive skin.

"Sorry," he mumbles, the faintest hint of a smile in his voice and on his lips. "I couldn't sleep."

Dantalion

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

It should say a lot that the tension starts to fade from his shoulders the second Danta blankets him, that all he needs in order to relax is the possessive touch, the desire to feel wanted with each and every dark crevice of secrets exposed. Nobody is getting into anything they don’t already know. Danta’s familiar with his proclivities, and still chooses to be here, still chooses to kiss and sleep and spend time with him.

He doesn’t know if those are things Flora would be willing to do if she knew the truth of it all.

The butcher’s hands loosen in tousled golden strands as their second kiss breaks and his chest rises and falls, hands smoothing down Danta’s spine, trailing along the bump of each vertebrae. His head tilts, offering more space for him to press his lips, his pulse certainly thundering underneath them as he finally relaxes. “Do not apologize.” He says in a quiet and deep rumble. “I couldn’t either.” I was actually about to leave to find you. “I am sorry for shoving you against the door.” Comes his own apology, tail shifting to wind around Danta’s leg, anchoring him.

Astaroth

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

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

Arching his back against the warm touch that cascades down his spine, Danta relaxes considerably and continues to leave tokens of his affection against the side of Asta's neck in the form of soft kisses, lingering in the space where a mark already darkens his skin as if to pay particular attention there. "Oh? Is that why you were already at the door?" he wonders, knowing the answer even if he doesn't know that the butcher had been intending to come and find him in particular.

"Don't be, I liked it," he croons, batting off the other man's apology and grinning against his throat, before straightening up enough to gaze down at him, meeting his dark eyes with unfettered affection that thankfully doesn't need any words to confirm (he hopes, gods). "It's really fucking late, though," he reminds him, though he doesn't make any effort to move, fully expecting Asta to do all the work to get them righted in the bed.

"I have had the most boring evening without you," he adds, letting out a tired sigh and following it up with another quick kiss.

Dantalion

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

“Yes.” He says without an ounce of hesitation, even as his head shifts a bit more to let Danta’s kisses linger against a dark bruise that he didn’t place, silently relishing by in the sparks of soreness the brush of his lips cause. At his own apology, though, a breathy huff of a laugh leaves him to hear that the blonde liked it, and he’d be lying if he weren’t imagining doing more of that.

Meeting Danta’s gaze as his hands smooth out along his hips and sides, a slow and relaxed blink is what meets the Maverick, nodding his horned head against the bed. “It is very late and the rain has been very loud.” Comes the complaint as he starts to move, easily drawing Danta in to start shuffling them correctly to get into bed. He starts on slipping out of his clothes, fingertips pausing to hear the admission, a rumble of a soft laugh passing from his lips. “It has been so dull, darling.” He agrees on a dramatic whine, shut up immediately with the kiss pressed to his lips.

It’s a chaste one, because he works to get them ready for bed and it requires a bit of moving from the butcher to rid them of their clothes, before he’s reaching for Danta to pull him into his chest arms winding around him tightly to keep him close, like if he were to loosen his grip slightly that the Maverick might vanish into thin air. “Have you eaten?” He asks belatedly, as if realizing he should have probably asked before tangling them up like this.

Astaroth

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

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

"Oh? I thought you would have enjoyed the music of it," Danta drawls - it seems like the sort of weird and poetic thing Asta might like. "I'm still not used to it, to be honest. Not coming down like this." For a man who had known nothing but The Climb who had then spent most of his time in Torchline before travelling to the Hollowed Grounds, heavy downpours are a novelty.

Shifting as best he can to get beneath sheets and out of his clothes, the Maverick finds himself laughing against Asta's lips, both at their fumbling antics as well as the other man's agreement. "My fault," he mutters. "Should have just gotten the one room and been done with it. Someone could have slept on a couch." A lie, and a blatant one, but at least the effort could have been made.

More than content to be all but crushed against the butcher's chest, Danta's arms wind around him in turn, and his eyes are already closed as he noses against the hollow of the other man's throat when he speaks. "A bit," he says. "Ordered wine and food to the room. What about you?"

Dantalion

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

“It sounds like rocks are being thrown at my window.” Right when he says that, a gust of wind sends more rain toward the wall facing out, plinks! can be heard loudly as it hits the window. “Do you like rain?” He asks, as if just realizing my now that it would be a new thing for Danta to experience, and selfishly wondering if it’s something the other man enjoyed despite how it seemed to grind against Astaroth’s mental state.

Either way, it’s an uncoordinated mess of trying to shrug out of clothes, crawling my under sheets and furs. It’s Astaroth’s turn to fiddle with the fire in the oil lamps with his magic, drawing them low. “It’s fine, darling.” He reassures him, arms wound around to let his fingertips thread through golden hair like a little waterfall as it slips past his fingers. Danta’s face rests against the hollow of his throat and he finally seems perfectly content with this, even as the question leaves his lips.

“I have a mostly full plate if you are still hungry. I was not.” Hungry that is. And it isn’t that he isn’t hungry in general. He’s hungry for something else. “There is whiskey left as well.” Not that he intends on parting for long, so if Danta does want to indulge in eating a bit more, Astaroth would still be pressed up against him.

Astaroth

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