[SE] love you 'til I rust

// you knew who I was //

"You did, but I imagine most of them were blinded by the rain or working on digging that cart out," Danta points out. "I only noticed because I'm always staring at your ass." It's not entirely a lie, the Maverick huffing out a breath to find himself manhandled and pinned against the shower. Arching away from the cool tiles until he's acclimatised, it isn't long before Asta's clever fingers in his hair have him hanging his head a little, dismissing his horns to avoid the butcher nicking his hands on the sharp juts of diamond.

"Thanks," he purrs, face obscured by hair that's getting closer to its usual blond with every careful touch. Only when he notices the water start to run clear does he gaze up at Asta through his lashes, offering him a crooked smile. "You think we're clean enough to be allowed back in our rooms yet?" he asks with a soft huff of laughter.

Dantalion

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

Astaroth

// but if you think I'm misery,

Danta’s comment sparks a huff of a laugh from the butcher — the first since they’d stepped foot in the Grounds. And it’s a look of amusement and exasperation that leaves him as he gazes upon the Theocrat. “Ah, right, my mistake for assuming you were focused on the wheel.” He drawls, voice thick with his accent as he slowly works his hands into the mud slick blonde. With the glamour up, the butcher takes his time scrubbing out the mud until the water runs clear, paying extra attention to the portions of his lover’s scalp that’s usually hidden thanks to the horns of diamond.

As the water runs clear, he brushes it back out of his face before he continues to pin his lover to the wall of the shower, peering down at him with warmth growing in his dark gaze as he catches the crystal blues of Danta’s peering up at him. “Mm, I am unsure. You still have something… here…” He makes a show of studying Danta’s face with absolute intent and intrigue, as if he’s spotted something that shouldn’t be there.

He’s a liar, though, because it’s another excuse for the butcher to lean in and steal a kiss, hands cupping the sides of his head as his tail wraps around Danta’s leg, indulgent and warm and kissed with the spark of ashy fire to grant him a bit of a boon as he’d done for him earlier.

then baby, all the company,
it never leaves me alone, no //

// you knew who I was //

"I wasn't not focused on it," Danta protests. "I was just also perhaps focused elsewhere at the same time." He's reminded again of the sight of Asta on his hands and knees freeing the wagon from the mudslide, and he's not sorry for the way his mind also falls straight back into the muck from the memory.

As it happens, though, the butcher is busy with a very different sort of work, but he's no less skilled or attentive for it, and Danta has to remind his knees not to buckle with the pleasure of the unexpectedly thorough touch. "Mm? I do?" His voice is a little gruff and his tail is still thrashing its enjoyment as he angles his head up for the butcher to conduct his examination - falling, of course, right into his trap.

Not that it's a trap he wants to escape in the slightest, the Maverick's surprise muffled against Asta's lips, his arms looping with uncharacteristic care around him. As much as he wants to show his appreciation with teeth and tongue and the press of his body, he's also not keen to knock the deep bruises still marring the other man's ribs, and by the time he parts, breathless and warmed by fire and mischief, Danta is equal parts dazed and a little frustrated. (Something that will be all too evident between them, he's sure).

"You better quit while you're ahead if you don't want me to start teasing you back," he warns.

Dantalion

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

Astaroth

// but if you think I'm misery,

Ah, yes, that makes so much more sense. He thinks before he’s busying himself with giving the Maverick all of the attention he’d admittedly not been doing while he brooded. He’s still a bit broody, but in the comfort of his own room and with the only person he’s mostly okay with being stupid around, it’s lessened some.

The mumble of an “mhm,” vibrates against the Maverick’s lips as he prolongs the kiss, immensely aware of just how frustrated he’s making the blonde. So he relents, reluctantly, reaching over without looking to turn the water of the shower off. Spending a moment to drip dry, he keeps one hand on the Maverick while the other tugs open the curtain and he helps him out.

A swirl of red ribboned scorch magic takes care of the rest of the dampness to their bodies, a methodical approach to drying the butcher off before it turns into more of a caress against each available patch of the Maverick’s skin. “Who informed you that I did not wish for you to tease me back?” He asks after he starts heading for their den, past the bathroom door, with a dark and wicked grin and glance over his shoulder toward his lover as his tail whips playfully behind him.

then baby, all the company,
it never leaves me alone, no //

// you knew who I was //

All thoughts of sinking wickedly to his knees in the hot water and swathes of steam vanish as Asta turns the shower off, Danta left blinking dazedly as the other man goes about drying off as if it's just another chore. Granted, he's not complaining about the playful caress of fire that comes to warm him through instead, and at the final, dark little glance over Asta's shoulder, the Maverick decides he can no longer be held accountable for his actions.

Prowling through the door after him and back into the familiar and sweltering heat of their den, Danta makes a point of breezing right past the butcher, tail swishing against his thigh as he goes, to collect one of the several silk robes he's fond of lounging around in. This one is ivory and embroidered with a scattering of crows mid-flight, tied scandalously loose and hanging off one shoulder as the Maverick approaches their mirror next.

He makes a point to raise an eyebrow at Asta in his reflection before fussing at his hair like nothing has happened between them, rings glinting on his fingers as he decides on a particularly intricate braid for one section. One that will take some time, he's sure.

Dantalion

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

Astaroth

// but if you think I'm misery,

It’s actually very surprising to the butcher as they emerge from the steamy bathroom to the hot, sweltering room, that Danta swans past him as though he’s on a mission. It stops the butcher in his tracks, hesitating as he waits to see just where Danta ends up. It takes time, however, because he remains in place with the memory of his lover’s tail ghosting his thigh, watching as he moves from him to the robe hooks to select one that Asta has always admired him in.

Then, is forced to watch as he slips over to their mirror, taking a seat and working diligently to place an intricate braid that the butcher’s fairly confident would take all day. Snorting and shaking his head a little, he meets Danta’s gaze reflected in the mirror with a shark toothed smirk.

He doesn’t hesitate now as Danta’s settled, changing his original trajectory to go and prep the kettle for some tea to warm them even more – helping the fire along to heat it up and pour them some before he returns. Danta’s tea made precisely how he likes it (aka, boring) compared to the honey sweet taste of his own.

Setting the cups down, the butcher invades his lover’s space a touch to lean in and inspect the braid. “I figure you will be here a while, darling.” He purrs, glancing up to catch his gaze in the reflection, his tail sweeping contently behind him as his smile grows a bit too sharp and the shadows return to his body in the form of a cape, one rising a touch higher above his shoulder and smiling mischievously at him, mirroring Danta's motions as if it too might be able to make a braid of darkness.

then baby, all the company,
it never leaves me alone, no //

// you knew who I was //

Smirking to himself as Asta seems to accept his game of chicken, Danta flicks his gaze to the butcher in the mirror as he potters around behind him to make tea, the Maverick selecting a few trinkets to weave into his hair as he goes. By the time Asta approaches with their drinks, he's very invested in the process, a small elastic between his lips as he glances up at the other man very much in his space.

"Like what you see?" he mumbles, watching with quiet fondness as a shadow attempts to join in. Tying off the section of his braid a moment later, he turns to reach out and run long fingers down Asta's bare chest with a raise of his brows. "Are we wearing only our shadows today?" he wonders, not bothering to hide the way his gaze dips lower, hungry and heated, if only for a moment.

Dantalion

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

Astaroth

// but if you think I'm misery,

“I do.” He hums as he acknowledges the mumble, taking a few moments to let his gaze drop as he focused on the silk slip clinging onto his lover for deer dear life. The shadow over his shoulder continues to try and mirror the movements, its grin growing wider as Danta turns to acknowledge him more fully, betraying the butcher’s internal thoughts even as his face remains impassive with that still there grin.

The warmth of Danta’s fingertips trailing down his chest spark a slight shiver, pebbling up along his skin and coating the darkening bruises in goosebumps. He leans back a touch to give him the ability to look (preening under the attention regardless), collecting his cup of tea and taking a sip of it, answering with a click of his tongue. “Perhaps. It seems you have already found yours.” His shadows coil around him, before a tendril sweeps out to look as if it might play with Danta’s pale silken robe.

It can’t actually move it, of course, but the show is amusing regardless, especially as he wraps his shadows around himself in a makeshift robe of inky darkness, watching Danta with open intrigue to see what he’ll choose to do next.

then baby, all the company,
it never leaves me alone, no //

// you knew who I was //

Oh, Danta clocks the shadow peeping over his shoulder for all the tells the butcher doesn't give in his expression, and he makes no attempt to conceal his amusement about it as he reaches absently for another trinket to thread into his hair. "Mm? So I have," he plucks at the silk robe absently, the gesture causing it to inevitably slip a little further. Only once he's finished - by which time Asta's hands are occupied by his teacup, he notes - does he glance back up to the butcher and the way his veil of shadows are trying to swat at his robe.

"Yours seem to be quite a handful," he notes, reaching for a tiny decoration - a small gold disc - to finish the braid before (accidentally on purpose, one might say) it slips conveniently from his fingers to the ground. Tutting at himself, Danta of course slips from his seat to kneel down and search for it, putting himself at a very convenient height for Asta to imagine all sorts of things he might otherwise be doing down there.

"Shame they can't help find this," he adds of Asta's shadows, not that he's remotely looking at them any more as he glances up the length of the butcher's body towards his face.

Dantalion

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

Astaroth

// but if you think I'm misery,

As Danta plucks at the robe, the shadows warp and dance around his fingers like they’re vibrating just for his attention. They might be, given how as Danta’s attention turns onto him as he continues the little tease of waiting as he collects his tea, the amused husky laugh leaves him with a small shake of his head. “They are not so bad.” He hums, cut off as the disk falls from his lover’s jeweled fingers.

He remains precisely where he is as Danta drops to look for it, the shadows warbling with the quiet surprise that escapes the butcher before understanding settles in as he peers down at Danta around the mug of tea in his hands. The view sparks a pale patchy flush to bloom against his olive skin, darkening his cheeks and splotching along his neck despite the sharper grin he aims down at the blonde Ancient.

“My, it is a shame. Do not worry, darling, I am positive you will find it if you spend more time down there.” He drawls, lifting the mug to his lips to take a sip of the hot liquid, before he fully sets the mug down and settles where he’s standing, peering down at his lover with a wicked smirk, his tail sweeping out and the flat portion of the spaded tip brushes a gentle caress to his cheek.

then baby, all the company,
it never leaves me alone, no //

// you knew who I was //

"I wouldn't complain even if they were," Danta says of the butcher's entourage of shadows with a grin. Bad or good, he's gotten used to their antics even if the rest of Asta's haunt might still cause a problem, and as they fizz and vibrate around him he makes a point to playfully swat at them. "Do you think so?" Tilting his head up towards the other man, all flushed and wrapped in darkness, it takes the sort of willpower Danta didn't know he possessed to resume his search.

"Ah, here it is," he says at last, reaching between Asta's feet to collect the tiny decoration, his fingers ghosting along the outside of his calf and his thigh as he slowly straightens back up. "You were right. Thank you," he purrs. Rather than sitting back down, though, Danta opts to reach past Asta to collect his own cup of tea, a movement that has him almost - but not quite - brushing against the length of his body, close enough to feel the heat rolling off the butcher.

Dantalion

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

Astaroth

// but if you think I'm misery,

Deep down internally, Asta does think that Danta would mind them if they were worse. His haunt and some exposure therapy with him had helped, but they still haven’t gotten to the point of the darker manifestations of it. The blocked off portion of the Backrooms with the ‘monsters’ warning was still something to consider. Later, of course, because the bravado has the butcher grinning down at his lover with a slight raise of his brow while his shadows warble.

And what a sight it is when he asks — gold and mischief wrapped up in his shadows and sharkbite scars. It only makes the flush on the butcher burn hotter, like his body’s aflame and there’s very little he can do to prevent himself from combusting right then and there as he feels the brush of smooth skin against his calf and thigh as he straightens up. “Mm, very good.” He purrs, tail sweeping back behind him with idle flicks of the ashen tip. And while he expects the other Ancient to stand, he’s quite amused to find the game continue.

Something’s got to give, though, and it doesn’t seem to be Danta just yet. Though perhaps his stubbornness is making one hell of a point while he snags his mug of tea, Asta hesitating in a way that allows him to feel the barest, briefest brush of a nearly there touch. His shadows warble before they melt, pooling on the floor, leaving his own shadow casting along Danta’s torso. “You will find I am right a lot of the time.” The arrogance drips from him almost as successfully as Danta’s coyness, and he’s polite enough to wait for him to take a long sip and swallow it before he enacts the Peter Pan magic in his veins.

His shadow grows heavier, almost as if guiding Danta back without a semblance of real touch, so much so that the butcher takes a step forward in the space that’s hopefully left behind with the suggestion to guide him back. “How much do you prefer this robe over your others?” He asks as he sets the cup down, his gaze flicking from the tea he’d left back to his lover’s face, head curving in a smooth motion.

then baby, all the company,
it never leaves me alone, no //

// you knew who I was //

"Oh, will I?" Danta grins over the rim of his teacup, taking a long, slow sip of it before cradling it in his hands as Asta had been doing before. "I don't know about you being right a lot so much as you make sure I know about it when it happens." Repeatedly - just in case he forgets. And as the butcher makes use of a very different kind of magic, the Maverick's eyebrows raise to find himself ushered suddenly backwards.

He might have pushed back against the shadow if the touch - however much it isn't technically Asta doing the touching - wasn't so welcome, the rope slipping from his shoulders entirely as he pads backwards, held up only at the crook of his elbows where he still holds the mug. "Asking me to play fashion favourites over something like this is a little unfair, don't you think?" he purrs, raising the cup for another sip of tea, only this time when he lowers it, the rim is stained ever so delicately with blood.

"Oh," Danta says, his coy smile entirely ruined by the wickedness in his eyes. "I must have bitten my tongue."

Dantalion

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

Astaroth

// but if you think I'm misery,

“Of course I let you know when it happens. They are proud moments, darling, it is not to my benefit if we forget.” He drawls as the knowing grin sparks across his face, wide and sharp and amused as he pushes his lover back entirely hands free and fills the space he’d left with his body. He watches the shoulders of the robe completely give up its attempt to remain in place as he comes to a pause once Danta can’t go any further back.

The shadows remain applying some amount of pressure and his tail whips playfully behind him as he reaches out to run a fingertip along the smooth pale silk, over the bunched up embroidery of the crows within it. “I simply need to know how much of an apology I will need to make.” He says as Danta takes a sip of his tea and really sends the sentiment home.

He can tell, briefly, before the Maverick’s even lowering the mug from his lips as the scent of iron paints the air. Faint and mixed with the hint of chai and sage, smoke and florals from their shower. But seeing the sight of it cling to the rim like lipstick in an abandoned coffee mug in the sink tugs at him harder than even he anticipates. “My, my, what have you done.” It doesn’t come out as a question despite how he’s worded it.

If anything, Asta becomes the shark that’s scented blood. His body and smile react instantly, poised and perfected, tense in the way a carnivore is on a hunt. It doesn’t stop the flush from darkening, the arousal blooming brighter now as he reaches up to take Danta’s cup and set it off to the side, slow and methodical because he’s pretty sure the rest of it won’t be.

He reaches up, then, one hand cupping his jaw to lift his chin up to get a better look, pinned there as he leans in to inspect, teasing and taunting for a few excruciating moments before he dives in for a greedy bloodstained kiss.

then baby, all the company,
it never leaves me alone, no //