[SE] hold my wood

// but i'm weak, and what's wrong with that? //

Good, Danta echoes to himself silently, his lips too occupied by kissing to make other use of them. Only as they settle back and Asta corrals him closer does the Maverick try to gather his scattered thoughts, though anything he might want to bring up dissolves into a grumble of pleasure at first thanks to the fingers that rake through his hair and press against the nape of his neck. "Mm... nothing too important," he mumbles, catching the brief honey-gold of his lover's eyes before his head tips forward to let himself be fussed over.

"Oh, wait," he mumbles belatedly, fingers tickling against Asta's lower back as if he's just remembered. "I got a book for you, signed by the author and everything. He was in the Dusklight looking for inspiration." The butcher won't be able to see it, but Danta is definitely grinning. "He actually asked if he could watch while we inspired him," he continues, figuring the other man will catch his drift. "I said I'd check with you when you weren't so murdery."

Dantalion

// boy oh boy I love it when I fall for that //

// And they glow, with the help of Lucifer Yellow //

The nothing too important has him humming a little somberly, as if he’d been hoping Danta had some other juicy gossip to share even as his head tips forward. He indulges his fiancé even more, fingers massaging away at the knots and tension lingering in his neck with careful strokes against the blonde strands there too. His tail twitches with a quiet bit of delight to hear the belated mumble, however, and the confusion isn’t seen across his face as much as it’s felt with the distracted movement of his fingers now.

“Inspiration, mm?” He considers it, even the fact that the man had asked for them to be inspiration – and truthfully, it’s a better alternative for him than Danta and someone else at the present moment, which is a shade of his leftover Leafchange attitude. “I am not entirely opposed. Do you think he is the type to offer his own opinion during the act?” He snorts, not knowing who the person is just yet and assuming it was some kind of young up and coming author of something raunchy. “What is his name?”

Astaroth

// I had it, concerning madness, sink into satin, focus on the static //

// but i'm weak, and what's wrong with that? //

Nuzzling closer into Asta's chest and humming his approval against his fire-heated skin, Danta all but melts into the other man's arms, tail swishing through the embers in lazy enjoyment. "Yes - yes he is," he offers immediately of the writer and his opinions, the confirmation riding its way out through a quiet laugh. "Though I daresay he will heed a warning if we give it." Advice and opinions unwelcome unless they are paid for with a blood sacrifice.

"Porn Lord," he mumbles of the author's name, before catching himself and shaking his head. "No wait, that's just what I called him. It was... uh... Quincy Kling? Fuck." Sighing heavily and peeping up at Asta, he flails a hand out of the fire towards the rest of the den. "I put the book on your bedside table. It was called THE PATH TO CLITVANA," he says, announcing the title with an air of mysticism and fanning his hand before them as if the words might form in the air out of cum.

"He was a funny little guy," he adds, as though that might help.

Dantalion

// boy oh boy I love it when I fall for that //

// And they glow, with the help of Lucifer Yellow //

The immediate answer has a quiet groan slipping from his lips, a small vibration that Danta will be able to feel with the way he’s melted into him. “Is it something you wish to do?” He asks, once again not opposed especially if a warning is given, gods knew the butcher any other season did enjoy the thrill of someone watching, though perhaps not so intentionally. It would be an experience for the both of them, he supposes.

But he’s asking about the name of this author, and a bark of a laugh leaves him to hear Porn Lord, the butcher’s affections pausing as he withdraws with a vibrant grin as Danta peeks up at him and gestures to the side table. “Oh my gods, darling. You do not mean Quentin King??” He nearly gasps with the dramatic surprise – not because he’s a fan, but because the writing as far as Asta was concerned was no form of poetry and yes he has heard of it.

Unfortunately for Danta, though, it completely distracts him from the affections and warmth of the fire, stealing a chaste kiss before he withdraws to leave Danta in the flame to cool his fingers down enough to snag the book without burning it, already cringing at the title.

His back to Danta, the firelight casts shadows against his scars and the way his dark hair falls between his shoulder blades along his spine, flipping it open and turning back to Danta as he clears his throat to say it aloud – when in reality he should have proof read it first.

“”The Mighty Astaroth” -- good choice. “Embarking upon a snail trail to clitvana is no easy adventure to make.”” He drifts closer to Danta, tail twitching as he focuses and tries to hide the way he wants to melt in the process of saying this aloud. “”It will be wet, it will be wild, and it will be life changing. May you come away from it”, errr, ”rock hard..”” here is where the butcher pauses, hoists the book up with all the dramatics as his tail flicks with more surprise and honestly? Horror. And if you can imagine him with deer ears atop his head you would most certainly see them flat as his fingers flatten against the book’s spine. “and inspired to take your FIANCE’S MUCUS??? to new heights?????” He looks over at Danta with dark eyes of confusion and quiet terror. “Darling, darling, darling..” He promptly plops down on the floor before their hearth, far enough that the fire can’t reach out for it despite the fact that he very desperately wants to burn the book for that sentence alone. “ ¿Qué carajos es esto?”

Astaroth

// I had it, concerning madness, sink into satin, focus on the static //

// but i'm weak, and what's wrong with that? //

"Oh, you know me," Danta says, as breezily as he can with his face buried in Asta's chest. "Once I'm up, I'm up for anything." His dirty little chuckle is almost completely hidden, but the meaning is clear enough - he isn't begging for an audience with the Porn Lord, but if Asta isn't opposed and Danta isn't opposed and they happen to find themselves in the man's presence together, why the fuck not?

Then the butcher says the author's name and Danta snaps his fingers like the letters have just arranged themselves properly at last. "Yeah, that's the gu--HEY." Because suddenly Asta is leaving(?) the fire(??) and padding across the room, the Maverick rolling to prop himself up on his elbows and scowl after him with all the dramatics of a child whose dessert has been stolen right out from under their nose.

"He isn't that good," he complains as he flops back in the embers, assuming Asta had gone to grab the book because he couldn't wait to commence his journey to Clitvana, and as he starts to read out the inscription, Danta is half mouthing the words along with the other man. (He'd made sure to read it properly so he'd know what it said).

"Isn't it fun?" He beams, popping back up to look out at Asta when he's finished. "He said the book will be worth more because it's personalised and everything."

Dantalion

// boy oh boy I love it when I fall for that //

// And they glow, with the help of Lucifer Yellow //

The hey and the glare go unnoticed on this adventure to see what fresh horror has been written – no, inscribed for him specifically. “No, he most certainly is not.” The butcher laughs, a still surprised sound, and by the time he’s done and reeling from the horror of the thing it had said, the butcher sits across from Danta in the fire with the book still splayed and half a mind to burn it to ash. The most he manages, however, just in case Danta wishes to read it (or unfortunately have him read it for him), is a few fingerprint marks singed into the cover.

“Fun?” He repeats, his gaze snapping to Danta’s handsome face with such surprise that he could be so beautiful and smart and find something like this fun. The book snaps shut and he slides it across the floor out of the way as he shifts to prowl forward, tail whipping now that only has the flames banking with the air it draws as he blankets his fiancé again. “Anything we do is more fun and worth more than that book is, darling.” He drawls, burying his face into his shoulder with a huff of a sigh as he draws his glamour up to not impale the Maverick, tail still flicking back and forth. “I think that is possibly the most horrifying line I have ever read in a book.” He whines.

Astaroth

// I had it, concerning madness, sink into satin, focus on the static //

// but i'm weak, and what's wrong with that? //

Asta knows him far too well, because yes of course Danta was hoping to be read chapters of Snail Trail before bed for inspiration and entertainment, and despite the other man's dramatics, he's given no indication that he'd refuse to do as much. "Yeah, fun," he chirps, flashing a pointy grin the butcher's way. "What's not fun about erotica? I thought you were well read, Astaroth." Sly and smug now, he shuffles back just enough to be properly enveloped by the fire again as his lover prowls back over to him.

"Oh, well obviously," he agrees immediately regarding their own brand of fun, his arms winding back around Asta as if to cage him against his body and prevent him from getting distracted by ink and paper again. "And which line would that be?" he wants to know, pouting down at the butcher. "Not the one about being inspired to new heights, surely? Are you saying there's something wrong with my mucus?"

Would you still love me if I was a worm walked so this conversation could run.

Dantalion

// boy oh boy I love it when I fall for that //

// And they glow, with the help of Lucifer Yellow //

“I am well read, Wasp.” Asta points out. It isn’t the erotica specifically within the book that he’s got complaints about, it’s the descriptors of such things. But the complaints have only seemingly just begun as Danta cages him in to prevent him from leaving to read the book – which he shouldn’t have to worry about, given the regret that pools in the pit of his stomach and the way he wonders if he can inhale enough of the fire currently by his face that it might latch onto the memory in his mind and burn it out.

He feels Danta shift slightly and he peeks up at him with those dark eyes, flickering honey gold with a nose wrinkle as if trying to read the double meaning of what Danta asks. Because his initial gut reaction is to say it absolutely is that line which would also mean that he would not love Danta if he were, in fact, a worm. Which is something he can be at times and Asta loves him even if he’s shrieking and biting at him.

It has him rising slightly, enough that he can cup both sides of Danta’s cheeks with fire hot hands, scanning his face. “There is nothing wrong with your mucus. But there are far better ways to describe such a thing that does not make one think of, perhaps, things that would not inherently make someone rock hard.” He tries to explain, a delicate dance on the edge of a sword that could go either way at this point and the butcher already has an impending sense of doom that he’s falling. “Things that may, perhaps, inspire me to take you to the stars. That may, perhaps, inspire me to make you light up like an ignis pulse at the pinnacle of a storm..” He lists out just the two that come immediately to mind, before he puffs out a sigh because this was absolutely not the right kind of vibe he was going for and he is not an author of erotica, even if he was a man that had a sway with words.

Defeated, somewhat, the butcher plants his face into his fiance’s chest.

Astaroth

// I had it, concerning madness, sink into satin, focus on the static //

// but i'm weak, and what's wrong with that? //

Well yes, compared to me you are, Danta might have responded, but at that point Asta is already working himself well into his theatrics, and the Maverick is too amused to want to pour more fuel onto that already blazing fire. Even so, he does his best to continue to look dramatically hurt by the implication that his snail trail is not to Asta's liking, cheeks squashed between the butcher's hands as he pouts up at him.

"That does make some people rock hard, you know," he says, voice muffled by the other man's grip on his cheeks. "The Dusklight is full of kinks. Porn Lord even said he had someone jerking off at the end of his bed. Like, someone he didn't ask to." His eyebrows raise as if this information alone should boost the butcher's estimations of the writer tenfold.

But then he's being taken to the stars and lit up like a sparkler at a Blood Moon festival, and by the time Asta collapses back down Danta is laughing too hard to keep up the charade of seriousness. "I'm quite happy being taken wherever you decide is good enough at the time," he tells him with a bounce of his eyebrows. "So does that mean you do not want Quattro Klang to watch and learn while we teach him what a good time looks like?"

Dantalion

// boy oh boy I love it when I fall for that //

// And they glow, with the help of Lucifer Yellow //

He sees the pout with the way he cups Danta’s face – but it’s an attempt to prove a point that he’s unsure actually will get across the more he fumbles his words. Even so far as the squished muffled answer that it does get some people rock hard.

Let it be known that he is not one of them, honestly. And as he hears the explanation of the Dusklight, he releases his fiance’s cheeks with a huff and slight mumbling, full of all of his dramatics and whipping tail in the exact opposite of a wag that would otherwise accompany the butcher’s heels. “That makes sense, though.” He assumes, at least. From what he’s seen at the Dusklight just below them and through his well read adventures. Mucus, though? Ew.

Defeat shows in the way he drops his head onto his fiance’s chest, bouncing with the laughter that exudes from his chest. And only when he hears Quattro Klang does Asta finally feel a laugh bubble up from his throat. Tilting his head up, chin propping on his fiance’s sternum as the fire pulls through his mess of dark hair, the butcher finds a response that isn’t a poor attempt at becoming his own author of erotica. “If anything, darling, I kind of want to do it more.” He can’t believe he’s saying it, evident in the way his lips quirk up. “Perhaps his work could be improved by actually seeing something as extraordinary as us.” He raises his brow, before he’s shifting to sit up a little more to be able to peer down at the Maverick more fully. “What do you think he would call our book?” He asks, fully intending on being a brat and distracting Danta’s response with the way he leans down to press a kiss to his jaw and ear, trailing along his neck.

Astaroth

// I had it, concerning madness, sink into satin, focus on the static //

// but i'm weak, and what's wrong with that? //

Grinning as he succeeds in dragging a laugh from Asta's throat, Danta lets his hands plunge through the butcher's dark hair as he peers up at him, deft fingers scritching against the base of where his horns should sit. "Oho, is that so?" To say he doesn't expect the other man's agreement is an understatement, dark delight simmering in the Maverick's blue eyes as he shifts and adjusts to let Asta prop himself over him once again.

"I'll let him know to expect a performance soon, then," he purrs, head tilting automatically into the warm lips that drag across his jaw and down the column of his throat. "He'd call it Too Hot to Handle, or... or A Tale of Two Horns..." Were it not for the butcher's sudden distractions, Danta might have a plethora of other working titles. Alas, he eventually nudges the other man into glancing up at him so he can kiss him properly, tail curling possessively around one of his calves.

Dantalion

// boy oh boy I love it when I fall for that //

// And they glow, with the help of Lucifer Yellow //

“That is so.” The butcher answers with a surprising amount of confidence – because honestly, what’s the worst that happens? Poor Porn Lord loses a finger or a hand for the sheer fact of judging them? As far as Asta knew, he wrote with some kind of weird quill. But that’s neither here nor there as he starts to litter his lover with affection, only barely able to keep the low thrum of a sound from leaving his throat where Danta focuses his fingers where his horns typically sat as the equivalent of rubbing a dog’s ears.

Humming a note of agreement that Danta would handle the arrangement of such an affair, he focuses on dragging his kisses along his fiance’s pulse, the smooth, fire hot skin against his lips as he carefully poses each kiss. The distraction works as he intends, though, while Danta gets two of the potential titles out before he’s nudging him up to kiss him properly and the butcher dives in more than willingly.

His tail finally has calmed down to wrap around Danta’s own leg, intertwined together as he delves into the kiss. He withdraws enough to nip his own tongue with his too sharp teeth, so the next press of their lips is painted in crimson, before he’s withdrawing with a playful nip at Danta’s lower lip, and if it draws more blood… well. It’s to be expected. “I think he should call it Blood Diamond.” He muses playfully, voice low and thickly accented.

Astaroth

// I had it, concerning madness, sink into satin, focus on the static //

// but i'm weak, and what's wrong with that? //

More than used to having Asta's kisses come away tasting like iron, Danta lets pain mingle with the pleasure and presses himself closer, humming his approval into the butcher's mouth. "Blood Diamond?" he echoes, the words all but mumbled against Asta's lips, painting them red in the process. "You do have a way with words." The praise falls easily from his tongue, hands slipping through the back of the other man's hair and trailing down his shoulder blades.

"We'll make an erotica author of you yet," he decides. "Keep Blood Diamond for your book - I like that one best." Winking, he soon settles back into the fire and, with a pulse of Scorch magic, intensifies the heat around them to something stifling and, for Ancients at least, entirely perfect. "Now stop teasing me and settle down for the nap we both know you're going to take after all that hard work."

Dantalion

// boy oh boy I love it when I fall for that //

// And they glow, with the help of Lucifer Yellow //

The praise does wonders for the butcher’s ego after horribly fucking up all the poetics he wished to say previously – so much so, in fact, that there’s a bloody smile where their lips brush against each other and he’s jostled only slightly by the hands that run through his hair, down his shoulder blades and across the rough edged scar tissue. “I do.” He agrees, because he’s well read and a charming bastard when he’s not on the spot.

Though he does laugh at the mention of making him an erotica author, though, and for that he sighs slightly and nestles in while Danta deals with the scorch magic to draw it up higher around them, stifling and absolutely perfect. “Alright, alright, fine.” It takes everything in him to stifle the yawn that wishes to escape. “But when we wake up, you are mine, darling.” The confident purr is punctuated with a softer and chaste kiss but no less thick with iron, before Asta’s wrapping his arms around him tightly and nestling in, and to be honest? It probably takes all of three minutes before the butcher passes out.

Astaroth

// I had it, concerning madness, sink into satin, focus on the static //