// sun comin' up on a dream come around //
"Power naps, huh?" Danta grins. "I like the sound of that more than feeling old enough to need a late afternoon snooze," he admits, tilting his head to the side to generously accept further kisses to his throat, smoothing his hands down the length of Asta's back as if to feel every place where his body has succumbed to relaxation. Shifting enough to allow himself to curl up with his lover, using the bear carcass as a pillow to boot, he lets out a content sigh and leans into the other man, like he might be able to burrow closer to him somehow.
It takes only moments for the Maverick to fall into a doze, his breathing slow and deep and his limbs heavy, tail twitching its contentment before stilling as he drifts into a deeper sleep. It's only meant to be for half an hour or so - a quick nap before heading back to the Grounds for further shenanigans. Alas - as is usually the case - he sleeps for much longer than intended.
Long enough to dream. Or, in Danta's case, long enough for the dreams to turn sour with old memories.
It's almost dark before he startles himself awake on a sharp inhale, having been shifting fitfully in his sleep for a few moments before that. But as he's dragged into abrupt wakefulness, it's with snapping shadows and a too wide smile flashing in the forefront of his mind, with Asta's laughter - not his Asta, but one from centuries before - echoing off cavern walls. And gods, if it weren't for the wilderness, weren't for the butcher's arms wound around him, it might have been alright.
But in the unfamiliar setting and with the scent of old blood still heavy in the air, Danta's already trying to fight his way back from the other man, lips pulled back in a snarl.
It takes only moments for the Maverick to fall into a doze, his breathing slow and deep and his limbs heavy, tail twitching its contentment before stilling as he drifts into a deeper sleep. It's only meant to be for half an hour or so - a quick nap before heading back to the Grounds for further shenanigans. Alas - as is usually the case - he sleeps for much longer than intended.
Long enough to dream. Or, in Danta's case, long enough for the dreams to turn sour with old memories.
It's almost dark before he startles himself awake on a sharp inhale, having been shifting fitfully in his sleep for a few moments before that. But as he's dragged into abrupt wakefulness, it's with snapping shadows and a too wide smile flashing in the forefront of his mind, with Asta's laughter - not his Asta, but one from centuries before - echoing off cavern walls. And gods, if it weren't for the wilderness, weren't for the butcher's arms wound around him, it might have been alright.
But in the unfamiliar setting and with the scent of old blood still heavy in the air, Danta's already trying to fight his way back from the other man, lips pulled back in a snarl.
Dantalion
// one hundred years from the empire now //
Horns: Diamond - they look very similar to #2 in this image.
