fuck that shit let's start a riot

// you knew who I was //

Humming his acknowledgement at that - he might still be concerned by the way Asta has buried himself under layers of his past personality, but that doesn't make the butcher any less suave or correct in his comments - Danta slips his arm into his lover's so they can make their way to bed. Leaning on him more out of comfort now than necessity, he can already feel himself struggling to stay awake and he's not taken any sedatives; kicking off his shoes and wriggling out of his pants, he's already gotten himself very comfortable in bed by the time Asta joins him.

They arrange themselves as best they're able, but with painkillers flooding his system and having practiced in the infirmary, it's relatively easy for Danta to curl himself against the other man, leaving his glamour up so he can nuzzle into the crook of his neck. (All the better to keep his teeth away from his throat, my dear). "Gods, you're so comfortable," he mumbles, winding his arms around him as best he's able to keep him clutched close.

"I'll try. And you just... sleep," he suggests, smiling just a little and letting his fingers stroke along the butcher's bare skin in slow passes than only stop as he gives up the fight for consciousness and drops into a deep and necessary slumber.

Dantalion

// with every step that I ran to you //