Astaroth
// i ride the edge, my speed goes in the red //
He can feel the exhaustion that clings to Danta, if only for how heavy the other man becomes in his arms, but the butcher will never find a complaint come to mind, even when the quip is met with such normalcy that he can’t help the huff of a laugh that escapes his throat. “My writing hand is sore.” He responds as if it were only that and not the fact he hadn’t even fucking thought about it. Though it doesn’t matter – because no sooner than the quip has left Danta’s lips, the blonde is passed out in his arms, and Astaroth finally finds some semblance of peace.
He spends those couple of hours half dozing himself and half continuing to offer attentions to Danta in the face of fingercombing his hair, running his hand along the other man’s shoulder in gentle swipes, soaking in the comfortable warmth and weight offered in the familiarity of his own room. And it feels like things should be right as they were, like there wasn’t any argument beforehand, like there wasn’t any worry that he might not show up to darken the Dusklight’s doorstep anymore.
Music swells from outside the room and Astaroth finds himself lulled by it, until Danta’s hoarse voice rises and signals he’s woken up, allowing the butcher to shift ever so slightly to press his bearded cheek back in against Danta’s crown. “I am perfectly content with that.” Asta hums, tail curling up against Danta’s leg that’s still thrown over his own. “Besides, I am your security. I am currently succeeding at my position.” Comes the quieter playfulness, like a test that things are back to normal.
He spends those couple of hours half dozing himself and half continuing to offer attentions to Danta in the face of fingercombing his hair, running his hand along the other man’s shoulder in gentle swipes, soaking in the comfortable warmth and weight offered in the familiarity of his own room. And it feels like things should be right as they were, like there wasn’t any argument beforehand, like there wasn’t any worry that he might not show up to darken the Dusklight’s doorstep anymore.
Music swells from outside the room and Astaroth finds himself lulled by it, until Danta’s hoarse voice rises and signals he’s woken up, allowing the butcher to shift ever so slightly to press his bearded cheek back in against Danta’s crown. “I am perfectly content with that.” Asta hums, tail curling up against Danta’s leg that’s still thrown over his own. “Besides, I am your security. I am currently succeeding at my position.” Comes the quieter playfulness, like a test that things are back to normal.
// hot blood, these veins, my pleasure is their pain //
