[SE] safety off, fire away

so what, my friend, whatever will it be?
i can give you what you crave, just not for free

Rolling his eyes playfully, the butcher adjusts the sunglasses on his nose ever so slightly, before heaving a soft sigh of agreement. “I was always smiling, is that not the first rule of approachability?” Flashing that same grin down toward the blonde before he gets distracted, Astaroth knows precisely why it wasn’t as comforting as people would have otherwise wanted.

Those teeth were often far more threatening than anything else he had.

But alas, the fight is taking his attention and Danta situates himself to take a look, and it shakes him out of it enough to let the fight continue (and man, does it not disappoint.) Settling back down, Asta’s hand returns to stroking through the blonde locks. “Not our problem, correct, darling?” He asks with a soft laugh. “I should probably start the book so that you might actually get some sleep.” Now that it looks like the fight is ramping down.

His tail lifts, pressing the spaded edge against Danta’s collarbone in gentle strokes as he tries to get the book propped open to page one with a single hand.

Astaroth

you know what's on the line

Dantalion

but you can't be free

Tipping his head back to grin up at Asta, Danta raises his eyebrows disbelievingly. "First of all, do I look like a man who knows the rules of approachability, let alone someone who follows them?" he asks. "And second, having been on the receiving end of that smile plenty of times, I can tell you for nothing that it's show-stopping." Likely not for the reasons most might think, but then of all people, especially now, Danta can appreciate those sharp teeth for what they are.

Shifting his attention back to watch the fight - now there's a big snake and some more scuffling - the Maverick hums something distracted under his breath, his head turning automatically into the feel of long fingers stroking through his hair. But then the panther on the beast explodes, and Danta has the good grace to jump a bit, before barking out a laugh. "Torchline is a lot fucking weirder than I remember," he tells the other man.

"But you're right - not our problem. Now, if this book doesn't start with a murder, I want you to know I'll be writing a complaint." Relaxing fully into the butcher's lap, Danta reaches up to slip off his sunglasses and set them down, eyes slipping shut as he focuses on his other senses to listen better.

'cause I'm selfish, I'm obscene

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

so what, my friend, whatever will it be?
i can give you what you crave, just not for free

“Truthfully? No and no, darling.” Astaroth hums with a soft laugh before it melds into letting his sharp smile curl a bit more genuine at the compliment. Because whether or not Danta meant it that way, that’s precisely how the butcher intends to take it. And while he tries so hard to focus on getting the book open and ready and ignore the fight regardless of how desperately Astaroth wants to watch it, he doesn’t – instead fumbling and fiddling to open to page one when the panther explodes.

Danta jumps and barks a laugh and Astaroth’s attention flits so fast toward the panther and his touch heavier against the Maverick as if it might keep them still in case the panther decided to dodge this way. But as it stands, the fight is indeed over and he huffs out a breathy laugh, humming a note of agreement.

“I shall send it to the Atheneum.” Of the complaint, that is, because as he reaches the first page he isn’t sure what they’re about to read – but he certainly hopes it’s murder too.

He clears his throat and begins to read, immediately painting the picture of a sunny vista that appears as if nothing is wrong or out of place, before it descends into the bowels of the house to a labyrinth of tunnels, where the book picks up immediately with a fight. A hand to hand fight, initially, fists flying, noses breaking, blood pouring from the crack of the man’s nose – who’s currently ripping a pipe out of the wall to bonk the other man with (which receives a dark laugh from the butcher), before he continues to spin the tale.

Astaroth

you know what's on the line

Dantalion

but you can't be free

"As you fucking should," Danta says haughtily, opening one eye as if to ensure the other man knows he's serious, before he relaxes once more. It's both lucky and not that the opening scene picks up rather quickly, because it means the Maverick's short attention span is well catered for, but it also ensures that Danta is unable to extract himself to say he's going to pick them both up a couple of cocktails.

Instead, he finds himself aiming sneaky glances up towards the butcher, watching the way his dark eyes flick across the pages, the way a particular passage causes his brows to furrow or his voice to grow more thickly accented, and if a smile is curling across Danta's lips as a result, so be it. Let it not be said that it's for a lack of talent in Asta's narration that the Maverick ends up drifting off into a nap, then - no, the pull of sleep was always there, especially with the heat at his back and the scent of salt and sea and honey smoke in his nose.

He starts to softly snore somewhere towards the beginning of chapter three, if Asta cares to notice, his hand having slipped up to cover the spaded tip of a tail against his collarbone, his face sleep-blank and relaxed.

'cause I'm selfish, I'm obscene

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

so what, my friend, whatever will it be?
i can give you what you crave, just not for free

Oh the butcher knows all too well that Danta is serious about the matter – so for his luck, he’d evidently picked the correct option this time. Because the scene is set and the butcher’s voice dances along the pages, outlining the words from the page, pausing wherever needed for emphasis, interjecting with the lower tones and higher tones of his accented voice to spur the tale on. He’s so focused in his task, that is, that the hand that strokes Danta’s jaw is soft and distracted, the spaded tail completely inert after a few moments where it rests against the other man’s collarbone, and only when he hears and feels the vibration of the light snoring does Astaroth pause to lift his attention up from the book to glance at the blonde.

He's stunned for a moment by the simplicity of it – the comfort with it – the way that the sun draws warmth through the sand that radiates from both of their bodies, the way that Danta clutches his tail gently in his sleep, the way he looks so peaceful (and dare he think happy?) that he can’t help the light smile that glimmers on his face at the sight, thumb stroking his jaw once more before withdrawing enough to try and shift as much so as to not bother Danta, but enough to partially curl up against him – letting the book sit on the sand after he’d dog eared the page they were at.

He props up his head with one hand, simply watching the Maverick’s rest with the roar of the ocean and the far away cries from Hels down the beach, the scent of sage and citrus and salt filling his nose with a comfort he didn’t know he could feel without the attempts at inebriation or being so panicked out of his mind that he’d cling to whatever felt safe. And so he settles like that, until his own lids grow a touch heavy and he starts to be lulled into a very light slumber alongside the Maverick.

Astaroth

you know what's on the line

Dantalion

but you can't be free

No, Danta might have protested if he'd been even remotely awake enough to manage it, don't stop. The butcher's voice has carried him into sleep and keeps him there long after he ceases to narrate out loud, but if anyone had stirred him from his slumber he'd have sworn he could recite the very last sentence Asta had spoken. At least there's a consolation prize as the other man shifts enough to curl up against him somewhat, the heat reverberating against his chest and at his back from the sand, cocooning him in warmth.

As such, Danta's nap turns into something a little deeper, a little more lingering, such that it's only as the sun moves and its rays begin to beam upon his bare skin that he stirs, a soft grumble rising in his throat and his body not knowing whether to roll further into the light or to cringe away from the potential sunburn. With a sigh the Maverick's eyes open and he stretches out instinctively, languidly, against the other man. "Shit, I fell asleep. Sorry."

'cause I'm selfish, I'm obscene

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

so what, my friend, whatever will it be?
i can give you what you crave, just not for free

It’s a yin-yang place they find themselves as the nap turns into a deepening slumber – one that has the sun shifting position enough in the sky that the parasol hardly stands to do anything. And Astaroth, having had his head resting on his fist, is now soaking up the warmth from the sun, half bent against the other man who’s head is still essentially in his lap – leaving his own horned head in the sand closer to Danta’s thigh. Luckily for him, the book had already been marked so they hadn’t lost their place, and as the Maverick stretches out, it rouses the butcher from his sleep.

Sun casts against the oil slick of his horns and he immediately shifts a little to yawn – his tail tightening momentarily around Danta’s body with a slight tremble like he’s also getting that good stretch in. After a few moments, though, he shifts up, resting on an elbow and squinting along the sand for his sunglasses that had miraculously fallen off while he also dozed. “I kept our place.” He says through a voice made thick with sleep and his accent – a touch more whitebrim before he straightens up again, trying to brush the grains of sand from his beard and cheek. “I seem to have also fallen asleep.” He admits with yet another yawn, straightening up slightly to try and hide behind the cover of the parasol once more and reaching out for Danta to pull him closer and out of sunburn territory. And to selfishly chase that sage and citrus scent that had chased him into his blissfully uneventful dream.

Astaroth

you know what's on the line

Dantalion

but you can't be free

It's a surprise for Danta as well, honestly, to notice the change in their positions; he'd half been expecting Asta to still be quietly reading somewhere above them, perhaps having gotten a pen from the bag to draw all over his face for good measure. (It's what Danta might have done, let's be honest). But as he feels the other man's tail tighten around him and they both scramble to get elbows beneath them to retreat out of the direct light, he finds he doesn't mind this change of plans one bit.

In fact, as Asta attempts to corral him closer, the Maverick is all too eager to comply, bullying his way into blanketing the butcher under the shade of the parasol and reaching up to help brush the sand from his cheek. "We can read more later," he decides, letting out a deep sigh and relaxing bonelessly back against the other man, his hands sneaking up to press and squeeze against the line of muscle between his shoulders and his neck where he's likely to have put some strain thanks to slouching over.

"We're on vacation," he continues. "We can do whatever the fuck we want." Even sleep in the middle of the day.

'cause I'm selfish, I'm obscene

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

so what, my friend, whatever will it be?
i can give you what you crave, just not for free

He isn’t sleep deprived, but gods you wouldn’t know it with the way that he straightens up and his gaze remains half lidded from exhaustion as he tugs Danta closer and thankfully feels the way the blonde blankets his body to comply. Clinging to the Maverick’s warmth, content to let him bully whichever way he wants to at this present moment, he’s grateful for the help with getting the grains of sand out of his beard.

But he’s also distracted, and with the sleepiness still lingering in his bones, the butcher relaxes under the careful attention Danta gives to squeeze against his shoulders and neck, working out a kink in it he’d absolutely placed with where he’d succumbed to his sleep. And gods it feels incredible – the butcher feeling almost boneless under where Danta blankets him, a hitch of his breath escaping past too sharp teeth as he bites back the sound that wants to escape with the relief immediately felt.

Instead, his arms wind around Danta a touch tighter, book forgotten even as Danta mentions it, because the butcher is too busy running his warm hands along the length of the blonde’s spine. “That feels incredible.” Comes the groan whisper rather than the agreement – because it’s there in the underlying tones of his voice, having zero plans and thoughts for today aside from this. And gods, is he thriving.

Astaroth

you know what's on the line

Dantalion

but you can't be free

"You be careful, making sounds like that out here in the open. Don't think I won't fuck you with everyone watching," Danta says sweetly, though despite the playful threat in his words and the curl of heat low in his belly, he merely presses warm, soft lips to the underside of Asta's jaw, his fingers continuing to try and knead the tension from too-tight muscles. "There must be a spa out here in Torchline, if you want to go," he continues, his touch migrating up towards the nape of his neck, hands firm but gentle as he pauses there and squeezes.

Back arching into the attention he receives in return, Danta finally relents if only to sit himself up, perched astride the butcher with the sun streaming in behind him. "But if you'd rather stay here, roll over," he suggests with a crooked smile, shifting enough for Asta to be able to do just that. "This is better than reading anyway." Less murder, granted, but then they had just seen a purple something explode across the beach, so maybe not?

'cause I'm selfish, I'm obscene

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

so what, my friend, whatever will it be?
i can give you what you crave, just not for free

He knew that was the answer he’d get the second his words left his lips, but gods if his shoulders weren’t so relaxed and soothed right now that the idea does tempt him. Especially with the way Danta’s pressed against him and the hands working their magic. Heat reddens the edges of his cheeks and the tips of his ears as he presses back into the kiss rather than responding.

“I do not want anyone else’s hands on me today.” He hums, head tilting slightly to indulge in the shift of Danta’s hands as they work knots and tension from his bones. But as the blonde sits up and settles in his lap, Astaroth blinks as he takes him in — the roar of the waves, the sunlight glimmering a golden halo around the outside of the other man’s body, turning his blonde hair into molten gold. He nearly says something before the blonde is moving and the appearance of captivation to huff out a little playful sound. “Mm, I suppose.” It’s brattily said, but he does take the opening to twist himself, shifting down so that he can rest on his arms folded beneath his head, his body sinking into the blanket on the sand and making him look impossibly thin.

“Be gentle, darling, unless you want all sorts of sounds to leave our little space.” He hums with a soft laugh, the bunch of his cheek from the smile blooming as he tries to keep tabs on Danta, even as his tail already swoops over to drag gently along the other Ancient’s hip and leg.

Astaroth

you know what's on the line

Dantalion

but you can't be free

"I was hoping you would say that, because I don't want anyone else's hands on you today either," Danta purrs, leaving another kiss against the butcher's throat before he's sitting up and demanding this change in their positions. Raising his eyebrows as if wondering at the sincerity in Asta's reluctance, the Maverick is soon too busy admiring the dark, tousled hair at the back of his neck to care, feeling his way across the other man's shoulder blades, the length of his spine, all the way to his lower back where he's currently sitting snug and pleased with himself.

"I'm afraid careful is more your skillset," he whispers, leaning forward to nuzzle against the soft space behind the other man's ear, grinning in response to the smile he can just about spot before leaning back once more. Danta's touches are gentle, though, his fingers firm but never too much, working their way across the cords of muscle between Asta's neck and shoulders, then delving between the shoulder blades to press into his back.

"Some of the workers in the Dusklight were kind enough to teach me this," he explains. "Apparently it helps a lot of their clients wind down if they're stressed. And you've got more cause than anyone to be stressed, I'd think."

'cause I'm selfish, I'm obscene

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

so what, my friend, whatever will it be?
i can give you what you crave, just not for free

The possessiveness in Danta’s words, whether intentional or not, soothes the butcher tenfold as he makes the shift in their positions, settling easily onto his stomach, thankful for the blanket atop the sand so that the hut of his rib cage doesn’t press too uncomfortably against the solid, packed sand. As the Maverick continues, a snort leaves Astaroth, his shoulders start to relax as he wonders just how not careful Danta would end up being with this, though honestly only half wondering with the distraction of his lips by his ear.

As the Theocrat starts, Asta is immediately met with the pressure of the blonde’s hands, initially suspecting such pressure leaves him silent as the knots are found in his back and spine, yet all his resolve starts to crumble as Danta finds the difficult ones and starts to work them out. “I somehow seem to keep embodying it.” He says — about the stress, that is — until his breath hitches and his horned head angles down a touch like the reorientation of his head might help loosen it.

It helps a lot, thankfully, and with the continued motions there’s a loud pop that comes from where Danta massages. And the butcher, unable to keep the inhale of a gasp wholly silent, emits a “Gods,” as a slightly relieved curse while the tingles spread through his spine and shoulder blades.

Astaroth

you know what's on the line

Dantalion

but you can't be free

"Mm, things feel as though they have been non-stop since Longnight," Danta agrees, his brows furrowing as his fingers linger on that particularly stubborn knot in the butcher's back, right where he'd not be able to reach it with his own hands. He doesn't need to list it all out loud, certain that Asta is already doing that himself; Maea (multiple times), the wicker woman, arguments, the situation with Flora, so many occasions with crows, both gore and otherwise. Even their acknowledgement of their feelings hadn't exactly been a stress-free occasion, and Danta suddenly feels the tightness in his own shoulders as the sharp pop! hits the air.

There's an oh fuck primed and ready on his lips, the Maverick assuming he's hurt the other man, but as Asta seems to relax against the sand he lets out the breath he'd been holding. "Better?" he asks tentatively, his hands smoothing against the soft material of the scarlet print shirt he's wearing, seeking out other areas of tension so he can bring them to heel beneath the touch of his fingers. "We'll get back to Torchline and they'll think you're a new man."

'cause I'm selfish, I'm obscene

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!