I told you, you were brave

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

Hissing in a breath that suggests he has to think very hard all of a sudden, Danta can't stop the mischief from flickering into his expression. "I recall it being quite a terrible idea to make a deal with the likes of you," he purrs. "But you know... I like my odds, so you got it." Grinning down at the other man and reaching out to smooth a few stray locks of hair back and behind Asta's sharp horns, the Maverick resigns himself to be a docile and willing subject for the butcher's scrutiny.

Sitting up a little so his hands (and mouth) can roam across his skin as they please, Danta tilts his head into the examination of his neck, his wine dark shirt slipping from his shoulder as Asta leans in further to kiss and nip his final thoughts against his flesh. Inhaling a quick breath at the tang of blood in the air, he lifts his fingers to rest his hand against Asta's on his cheek, relishing the warm touch. "Only ever yours," he echoes, and he isn't talking about the marks on his skin.

Leaning in to press his lips against the butcher's, Danta kisses him as if to keep the taste of him in his mouth, wanting every touch to overwrite those that had come before, even if nothing comes of it. (With how drunk Asta is, the Maverick already has his doubts).

Dantalion

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