[SE] I walk my days on a wire

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