you tell me it feels a little colder

// too many war wounds and not enough wars //

"Oho, speaking of kinks," Danta purrs, his tone as wicked as it gets as he realises the mischief his fingers might make with Asta's glamour in place. But he behaves for now, if for no other reason than he'd hate to ruin a comparatively fun exploration in the midst of what is still a bit of a breakdown for the butcher. And so instead, giving the other man's dark locks a gentle tug before leaving them be, he merely takes advantage of being able to nose against the crown of his head unimpaled.

"I'm absolutely in it for the horns," he murmurs, smirking. "And also the rest of the man they're attached to, as it happens." Lifting his gaze back to luxere-man and the redhead as they disappear beneath an awning, Danta scoffs as if they've ruined their fun by going somewhere private. "I'd suggest you try sleeping with the glamour up so we can see, but I don't want to be poked in the eye if it does drop," he remarks, gazing down at him and realising all of a sudden that this would have been how Asta had looked before The Climb, back at Whitebrim.

Unable to explain the complicated tangle of feelings that curl in the pit of his stomach, or his sudden need to be closer to the other man, the Maverick merely does instead of thinking about it, leaning in to brush his lips against Asta's in a slow and gentle kiss.

Dantalion

// too few rounds in the ring and not enough settled scores //