southern comfort's comforting, isn't it?

all you have is your fire, and the place you need to reach

"I think we more than tried, Asta," Danta says with certainty, a crooked grin on his lips as he glances down at the other man. "For me certainly, even when I was too out of my mind to enjoy it, I'm sure there was never a dull moment for anyone who watched us having it out." That likely hasn't changed, in fact, though the type of having it out is much different these days.

His smile softens, fingers scritching further against the spaces where the butcher's horns would usually make it impossible, only shifting to accept the kisses that Asta aims against his shoulder. "Careful," he teases. "A tongue as wicked as that and I might end up wanting to roll around in these sheets with you again." No, they hadn't actually used the bed the first time around, but he's sure Asta will catch his drift.

Nosing into the other man's dark hair, Danta's eyes close briefly to enjoy the simplicity of the moment, the way the moonlight turns the world soft and pale behind his eyelids, the warmth of the butcher pressed against his side. He's only drawn out of it by the craving for another long sip of wine, nodding his agreement at the same time. "Two sides of the same coin, two peas in a really charred up pod, whatever analogy you want."

Dantalion

don't you ever tame your demons, but always keep 'em on a leash