I told you, you were brave

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

Danta has never liked hearing his full name, in truth, not until Asta's return into his life, but as the butcher growls it out at the point of his orgasm, the Maverick thinks he might want to hear it said that way forever. With the scent of blood hanging heavy in the air between them, his grip around the other man grows more gentle if no less possessive, holding him through the waves of pleasure that crash and seize his body.

Left panting and exhausted despite this easily being one of their laziest tumbles between the sheets, Danta strokes careful fingers through the back of Asta's dark hair, releasing the sharp obsidian of his horn to curl around and brush his thumb across lips he knows will be red with blood. Leaning in to press chaste and gentle kisses to his mouth as if to chase away the scarlet stains, his free hand whispers feather-light touches across the butcher's back, looping patterns that take the suspicious shape of their initials if anyone - Asta - has the sense to realise it.

Only once he's content that he's made the butcher somewhat presentable (it's his excuse and he's sticking to it) does Danta settle back somewhat, brushing his nose against the other man's and offering him a small smile that says everything they don't need words to express.

Dantalion

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