[SE] 'til you get to the bottomland

// there's a reason that they hate me, a reason that they need me //

Asta can feel any lingering tension from setting up the tent begin to melt from his lover’s back the longer he’s pressed against him. Heat swallows them up like a blanket, comfortable and necessary even as Asta still squints out into the desert – and squints hard, without having his sunglasses on at the present moment. He doesn’t mind, though, because being satisfied with the fact that nobody was around for miles meant that his focus could remain precisely on the Maverick – as if the butcher would want it any other way.

“Mm, well, I suppose we will have to find out when the time comes.” He murmurs, alleviated by the quick catch up Danta has offered over whether or not they’d be heading back soon. Even if he seems unfettered by it, his fingertips do twitch against Danta’s sides from where he’d wrapped his arms around him.

At the question, though, Asta can’t help the brattish nature that comes so easily to him with this particular season now. “How do you think I am feeling, darling?” He asks, tilting his head again to press another kiss to his neck and his cheek, tearing his attention away from the sand to entirely focus on his fiancé.

Relaxed isn’t exactly the word he’d go for, but it’s not not wrong.

Astaroth

// there's a reason to enslave me and a reason to defeat me //