southern comfort's comforting, isn't it?

/// sorry, but you just got in my way
i promise honey, i can feel your pain

Happy to hand over the bone flower, Asta holds the bottle of wine by the neck as they walk, keeping their hands intertwined for the trek back down toward the shore and the Wildering House. He spies the sidelong glance, however, and tilts his head toward his fiancé with an easy smile that’s settled on his lips too. “You flatter me.” He purrs warmly, turning to look over at him with all the confident arrogance the butcher always exudes.

“You truly thrive in the sunlight, darling. It is almost as if you were made from the fire and brimstone of it.” The compliment drips from his lips in a low thrum that’s playful as much as it is true – Danta was made from the very thing the Climb exuded. Fire, sunlight, heat, magma and lava in turn, the quiet of a resting pool to the explosion of the eruption. And Asta loved him for every single part of it, even if he himself was meant more for the opposite side of the coin.

He is the shadow – the colder nights where the stars twinkle overhead, the darkness that comes with the flash of the moon and the unknowns that sit within it. Fire was just one part of him, a part that had both harmed and saved him, but a part none the less. His thoughts on the matter are distracting enough that Asta finds himself shifting the conversation quietly and easily. “I made the flower from the bones of speaking squirrels.”

Astaroth

and maybe i enjoy it just a little bit
does that make me insane? ///

all you have is your fire, and the place you need to reach

"I do," Danta agrees, smirking at Asta as he raises the bone flower up towards his face as if he might smell it, despite it having no fragrance. "And I don't plan to stop any time soon, so you might as well get used to it." Squeezing his hand and wending a little closer to the butcher as the boardwalk melts into the warm sands, he's not nearly sober enough to be able to navigate the uneven beach without help, so hopefully Asta is feeling generous.

"Now you're just making it a competition," Danta accuses affectionately as the other man lays his own flattery on thick, not that he's complaining in the slightest. Gazing back down towards the flower, he raises his eyebrows with interest and holds it up to admire it further. "I'm surprised it was so quiet during dinner," he jokes, glancing up as the silhouette of Wildering House appears in the distance.

"Is it just me, or are we walking quite quickly?" He grins. Why ever might that be?

Dantalion

don't you ever tame your demons, but always keep 'em on a leash

/// sorry, but you just got in my way
i promise honey, i can feel your pain

Brows lifting and his grin spreading a bit wider, he lets the laugh leave him unbidden and warm to hear the tone with which Danta assures him he’d better get used to it. Glad for Danta to slip closer, the butcher squeezes his hand before dropping it, wrapping his arm around his lover’s shoulders to keep him closer as they reach the sandy beach so he might be able to keep them on the straight and narrow. “I do not think I will have any trouble with that, darling.” He murmurs once they finally take a step into the squishy sand.

As for the competition, the butcher’s chuckle lingers in his throat as he smirks. “When have we not been in some form of a competition?” He prods and pokes – because it was a centuries old tradition for them at this point. They just understood the rules better this time around and Asta was more than content to let Danta win now and then (which is some form of personal growth for the man that would tear limbs off of those that claimed to have won when they hadn’t). “They were surprisingly quiet, weren’t they? A shame.” The butcher purrs playfully, ensuring they don’t slip on the way along the sand.

When the grin occurs, Asta’s head tilts toward his lover with a grin that has the crows feet in the corners of his eyes tightening. “Well, we could go slower, but I fear parts of this beach may be closer to quicksand in our states.” He answers with a wink – not at all naming the obvious reason why – of how he wants him all to himself without prying eyes on the beach or out and about to cross paths.

Astaroth

and maybe i enjoy it just a little bit
does that make me insane? ///

all you have is your fire, and the place you need to reach

"Ah, touche," Danta concedes with a theatric nod and a half-bow of concession, because Asta is absolutely right - when haven't they been trying to one-up each other, whether it's in a fight, through acts of love or (in Asta's case especially) coming home the most torn apart by something. "Well, you win this round I suppose," he continues; his tongue is nowhere near silver enough to match the butcher's compliments, and so instead the Maverick nestles against his side under his arm, letting him lead them onward.

"Mm, maybe next time," he agrees of the bone flower, gazing fondly down at it before remembering to keep an eye on where his feet are going, lest he trip and drag them both down to the sand. Normally it would be something he found thoroughly entertaining, but just like the butcher, he doesn't want to delay the time between now and when they get to lock themselves away.

Grumbling at the parts of the beach that do seem more quicksandy, Danta nevertheless hurries them up to the doors of Wildering House, breathing a long sigh of relief when they finally arrive. "I declare a draw on the race home," he says, grinning. There's still the race up to their room, but he'd consider himself the winner no matter who got there first.

Dantalion

don't you ever tame your demons, but always keep 'em on a leash

/// sorry, but you just got in my way
i promise honey, i can feel your pain

“Perfect.” Asta crows playfully, his voice a touch thicker accented than it usually was as he focuses on the playful boast. It’s only there for a moment before it fades, their walk taking much more of the butcher’s focus to ensure they don’t slip and fall in the sand. There’s only one spot in which seems a bit shaky, but they manage it.

Only when theyre on solid ground and stepping through the doors of the Wildering House does Asta finally exhale a sigh of relief, squeezing his fiancé’s shoulders with a bright grin of his own, playfully body blocking any potential for anyone to stop them as he tugs him toward his room. He is still polite to the spirits, of course, but it’s very clear he has a goal in mind – one that means little to no interruptions when they’re so close to finally settling in for the night to take in everything that’s happened this evening and how that might or might not change their future.

“A draw suits me just fine, darling.” The butcher says, a touch breathless as he shifts the bottle of wine into the crook of his elbow so he can open the door to their room – greeted by the heat of the fireplace among the rest of the Longheat sweltering temperatures and the long stretched shadows of the shark jaws hanging above the mantle. He only releases Danta when he’s sure they’re both inside, closing the door behind them and finding a space beside the door where he might be able to snag a couple of crystal glasses in case they wanted more wine. “There. No interruptions. It can be solely us for the rest of the night.” The answer seems to bring some relief into Asta’s shoulders, his posture relaxing in the way it only seems to when it’s just them.

Astaroth

and maybe i enjoy it just a little bit
does that make me insane? ///

all you have is your fire, and the place you need to reach

Trundling along in Asta's wake quite contently, Danta has to be careful about watching his step on their way up the (endless, it feels) staircase, and he waves at a disembodied feather duster clearing cobwebs away from an arch before he's ferried along after the butcher once more. Feeling simultaneously more clear-headed than on their walk but also much more chaotic, as they swan into their room at last and he's released, Danta is already stretching his arms high above his head and kicking his shoes across the room.

"Like poetry to my ears," he purrs, flashing a fanged grin to the butcher and delicately setting the bone rose down on a side table before he prowls across the room to his lover. Draping himself up against Asta like he's the only warmth he needs in the world, one of Danta's arms coils around his shoulders, fingers plunging into the back of his dark hair, whilst the other grasps the butcher by the front of the shirt to draw him down against his lips.

Danta kisses him like he's the very air in his lungs, melting into every place their bodies touch and ignoring the way the room spins dizzyingly as his eyes slip shut. He's panting for breath by the time he parts with a final flick of his tongue, nose brushing against Asta's. "How would you like to spend the evening?" he asks, the words almost mumbled against his mouth. "And not how you think I would like to spend it. What do you want?"

Because don't get him wrong, Danta will always want Asta, the butcher a carnal drug he can't get enough of, but the other man is a selective gentleman at the best of times. And so if they celebrate tonight with little more than this and this alone, the Maverick will still consider himself Torchline's happiest Ancient.

Dantalion

don't you ever tame your demons, but always keep 'em on a leash

/// sorry, but you just got in my way
i promise honey, i can feel your pain

It’s like a switch clicks the second they’re past the threshold to their room. Danta steps away, stretching out and more awake and less quiet, like the chaos within him had settled for precisely long enough to get into a space to unleash it. He watches the shoes get kicked across the room, the stretch of his arms above his head and catches the glint of that golden ring on his finger and it settles that portion of himself that he’s attributed to the new dragon shift under his skin. Everything is right, as it should be, and if the idea of Danta being his wasn’t obvious enough before, it certainly should be now.

His tail twitches a little as he steps away from the door to set everything down but doesn’t make it very far but slipping out of his own shoes by the time Danta’s back against him – warm and diving those wicked fingers of his into the dark strands of his hair, easily messing up the style he’d put it into. The golden chains clink against each other and his horns with the movement as he sinks into the kiss that means absolutely everything to him – pressing into it with as much gusto as Danta has – connecting the two of them in a way that he hopes paints the image of just how much he loves him. His arms wind around his middle and lower back, tugging him into him a bit harder before they part, equally panting as his dark gaze slits open to take in the Maverick, cheeks slightly flushed from the alcohol and the intoxication of Danta’s kiss.

“I—” He’s cut off with Danta’s continuation, a smile breaking across his face with a soft laugh. He doesn’t answer immediately, letting the question settle so he can think about the answer if only to prove to Danta he isn’t doing it based off what he thinks Danta wants. He is selective, yes, but the blood stars have aligned in a way that has him surging back down into Danta’s lips for a chaste kiss, his fingertips pressing in a little harder against the hollows of his lover’s hips. “I want you all to myself tonight, Dantalion, darling.” He breathes his fiancé's whole name out, the exhale one of wine and liquor, blood and smoke as he presses the next kiss to the corner of his lips - positive that it will get the point across, unable to stop the soft beat of the excited wag the tip of his tail takes, knocking into the leg of the table beside them.

Astaroth

and maybe i enjoy it just a little bit
does that make me insane? ///

all you have is your fire, and the place you need to reach

"You...?" Danta echoes with a raise of his eyebrows, a wicked smile curling across his lips as he waits patiently for Asta to decide what he wants. Kissing him back indulgently, as he finally speaks and the Maverick's full name spills from his lips, the heat that crackles up through his spine is immediate. "Then that's exactly what you'll have," he purrs, turning his head ever so slightly to nibble at the butcher's lower lip, breathing out a soft laugh as he realises the rhythmic thumping he can hear is Asta's tail against the leg of the table.

"You'll break it if you're not careful," he warns, though he doesn't specify whether he means Asta's tail or the table. Stepping back just enough to keep the butcher (and the furniture) out of immediate danger, he leans in for another kiss and lets his hands smooth around to the front of the other man's shirt, carefully unfastening each button. When he's finished and is able to push the shirt over Asta's shoulders, his lover might be surprised to note that tonight Danta opts to carefully fold the garment, smirking over his shoulder at him as he gently sets it aside.

Dantalion

don't you ever tame your demons, but always keep 'em on a leash

/// sorry, but you just got in my way
i promise honey, i can feel your pain

Smirking at the question, the butcher still takes his time – deciding eventually what he wants as he descends back into the wine-soaked taste of his fiancé’s lips. He leans in to hear the purr, his hands sweeping up along the back of the acid watched shirt he’d suggested Danta wear earlier as he feels the light nibble to his lower lip. His bearded chin brushes softly against his lover’s cheek as he nuzzles in and huffs a soft laugh as Danta guides him back.

“Oh nooo.” The butcher whines dramatically despite the grin that lingers on his face. His tail flicks a little softer now, gentler, the thump a mere brush rather than the harder wag of the ashen tip, though it hardly matters when Danta’s stepped them back enough to make sure he doesn’t take out the leg of the table in his quiet excitement. As his shirt is unbuttoned, he’s distracted by the next kiss he greedily dives into, his own hands slipping up under his shirt to feel the heat of his scar flecked skin beneath.

He withdraws only when the shirt is pushed over his shoulders, exposing his scars to the heat of the room and the light of the oil lamps and fire in the fire place. And he watches with eager anticipation to see Danta start to fold his shirt, smirking over his shoulder at him in a way that very nearly has him frog blinking at him before he barks out a laugh. “Of course you would choose tonight to enact my prior traditions. Feeling nostalgic, are we, darling?” He asks, prowling a bit closer to unbutton Danta’s own shirt and slip it from his skin, folding it over his arm in a swift motion as he crowds in again for another kiss, letting his hands take and map the full expanse of his skin no longer blocked by fabric.

Astaroth

and maybe i enjoy it just a little bit
does that make me insane? ///

all you have is your fire, and the place you need to reach

Asta's laughter is contagious, Danta shrugging his shoulders innocently as he finishes folding the shirt and setting it aside, though of course he doesn't complain at all when the other man follows suit. Moaning his encouragement into the kiss and freeing himself of the garment, his hands blindly reach up to unloop the chains from the butcher's horns with uncharacteristic care. He has to fumble back to set them on the table though, of course, an act that has him crowding even further into Asta's space, warm hands pressing to his scarred chest when he's done.

"Do you trust me?" he whispers suddenly, the words low and rich and full of dark promise. Providing the answer is an affirmative - which Danta assumes it will be, naturally - his fingers will slip into the waist of Asta's pants, tugging him and one of the chairs from the table towards the centre of the room. "Sit," he invites, mumbling the command into his mouth and drawing back at last.

Slinking across the room to one of the drawers, Danta steps back with a couple of bottles of fountain water, which might give the butcher some indication of what he has planned.

Dantalion

don't you ever tame your demons, but always keep 'em on a leash

/// sorry, but you just got in my way
i promise honey, i can feel your pain

The moaned encouragement is entirely unneeded by the motivation the butcher harbors, but he soaks it in anyway – absorbing the sound of the kiss as he sheds the Maverick from his own shirt. The blind feeling of Danta’s fingers up at his antlers removing the chains isn’t as messy as he anticipates, the chains not knotting together as they’re removed and set on the table.

“Of course I do, darling.” He purrs, absolutely having zero reasons to not trust him these days. As he’s reaching him again, Asta’s easily guided by the warmth of his lover’s fingers in his waistband alongside the way Danta snags a chair as well. Dropping into it, his tail winds around the chair leg as he sits back until his spine and scars press against the back of the chair, his dark gaze lifting up to watch him slip away, departing with a soft nip from Asta as they part.

Hands rise to thread through his dark hair that’s come undone now, his eyes tracking his lover as he retrieves bottled fountain water, absolutely picking up what Danta’s putting into the air. He bites his cheek away from asking if Danta was sure, because he’d asked if he trusted him and he absolutely does – but the movement has him slicing a small scratch into his cheek, flooding his mouth with a sweet iron tang that flushes him darker and has the tightness of his pants betraying the butcher’s quiet watch.

Astaroth

and maybe i enjoy it just a little bit
does that make me insane? ///

all you have is your fire, and the place you need to reach

"Good," Danta purrs, keeping one of the bottles in hand as he returns, setting the other beside the chair before he's shifting to straddle Asta's lap, fingers coaxing through his dark hair as if to neaten it up for him. He recognises the dark flush to the butcher's cheeks even before he scents the faint blood in the air, the Maverick tutting under his breath and kissing the corner of his mouth. "No fair," he whispers. "I wanted to be the reason you look like that."

Grinning another kiss against his flushed cheek, Danta uncaps the bottle with one hand and rocks his hips against the other man, a soft huff of breath leaving his chest to feel the hard, trapped length of him already begging for attention. "We both know you've wanted to go for my throat for about as long as we've met," he mumbles, lips brushing against Asta's until he abruptly sits up, chin lifting to bare the sun-kissed column of his neck to the butcher.

"If I didn't offer it to you now, when would I?" he continues, gazing down at him with hooded eyes made molten in the light of the fire, his pulse jumping against his jugular, begging for a bite.

Dantalion

don't you ever tame your demons, but always keep 'em on a leash

/// sorry, but you just got in my way
i promise honey, i can feel your pain

Quite content to sit there and watch his fiancé prowl back over, his dark gaze drifts from the bottled fountain water to the blonde Ancient as he straddles his lap. A soft hum leaves him as he feels his hands thread through dark strands, deftly avoiding the points of his horns with expert practice as he dives down for a kiss to the corner of his mouth. A soft laugh leaves him, tilting to press a kiss to his jaw as his hands smooth out over his lover’s thighs and the billowy fabric still found there. “I was going to say something but I figured it was better that I did not.” Hence the bite to his cheek.

Don’t worry Danta, the offer you’re giving will have him absolutely dark and dangerous. He hears the bottle open but doesn’t look at it, not as he tilts his head back and chin up, pressing into the kiss and loosens a soft hiss into it to feel Danta’s hips rock against his own, his arousal still trapped but not without a certainly desirable amount of pressure. When the Maverick withdraws and slyly places his throat within bite distance, though, Asta’s fingers twitch against his lover’s thighs, a slow and measured exhale leaving him as his pupils blow — darkening the otherwise honey hue of his eyes.

He meets Danta’s hooded yet molten blues with the silence of a question forming, before the glint of healing water catches him, and between that and the pulse that rabbits in Danta’s neck, the butcher finds himself on quite the losing battle when Danta’s silver tongue is moving so beautifully like this.

He doesn’t bite just yet, though, testing the waters so to speak as he dives in to press the start of his kisses against the other Ancient’s collarbone, trailing it up over previous scars in the meatier bits of his shoulder he’d already left behind. “You will tell me if it is too much, won’t you?” He purrs, the rumble a vibration against his skin. He hesitates and continues to pepper his sun kissed throat with kisses that grow more and more greedy and pressured but still there’s no slice of sharp teeth into the waiting veins.

At least, until there is.

It’s the expert precision of a man who’s used his teeth for far more than just a tool to charm and eat. They’re a practiced weapon as much as his knife collection is, and the second that they sink in, the pain isn’t there immediately. The immediate swell of blood is, though, filling the butcher’s mouth with it far enough that he can’t even keep it all contained. It spills from the corner of his mouth into his dark beard, down against Danta’s chest and his own. A combination of a growl and a groan leave him with force, a punch escaping his throat against Asta’s will. He almost loses himself in it, if not for the last split second of pulling back and pressing his cheek against the wound in a piss poor attempt to staunch it, preventing himself from rocking his hips lest he make the bite worse but Danta will feel the effect it sparks through him. He flushes tenfold, his cock jumping hard against where the Maverick has him trapped, and the throaty, deeply accented “fuck, darling—” that leaves him as he tries desperately to not lose this battle and to enjoy it as much as he’s allowed himself.

Astaroth

and maybe i enjoy it just a little bit
does that make me insane? ///

all you have is your fire, and the place you need to reach

"Better for who?" Danta grins, all dark promise and indulgent touch. "I happen to love hearing you give me warnings, not that I'm going to heed a single one of them." Hence the profoundly dangerous situation they suddenly find themselves in; violence paired with a love that runs so deep it almost begs for it. "You know I will," he assures him, the words a soft rumble in his throat as Asta leans in to drag kisses against his skin.

Danta settles in his lap as if he belongs there, fingers twisting softly through the butcher's dark locks to cradle the back of his head. It's an affection Asta will recognise easily as something that might tighten at any moment into something intended to hold the other man at bay - though whether that will even be possible this time is debatable. His eyes slip shut to better feel the heat of lips and teeth against his throat, but gods - gods - Asta's teeth are so sharp and practiced that the Maverick barely realises what's happened until the hot spill of blood coats his chest.

"Shit..." It's a combination of awe and desire that he clutches the butcher closer, breath hitching at the way Asta comes to life anew beneath him, heat rolling from his body amid the smell of blood that hangs heavy in the air. Pain starts to sting in Danta throat at the same time as he realises - distantly, in a way that might be funny if he lets it - that he's already growing lightheaded. His front is coated crimson already, blood continuing to pulse from his throat in waves times with the beating of his heart.

"Asta," he mumbles, trying to clutch the healing water more tightly between fingers that have started to lose their feeling. He raises the bottle, grip tightening feebly in the butcher's hair as he tries to draw back, but never has he been more at the other man's mercy than right now.

Dantalion

don't you ever tame your demons, but always keep 'em on a leash