bang bang bang

am i the wolf or the savior?
is my smile too sharp or just my teeth?

“Mm, I do know that.” He doesn’t trust just anyone to wield weapons within such close proximity to him. When it comes to the striking blonde, the butcher finds that he only need worry for miniscule things. (Or, you know, when Danta’s decided to offer a deep tissue massage. In which case, the butcher’s afraid for very accurate reasons). In lieu of that, though, he lets his fingers curl into his hair even more, threading a strand of gold to shimmer against the scarred bronze of his skin – light and beautiful and everything he can imagine. “My, my.. How far we have come.” It comes out more akin to a whisper than anything else, unintentional likely due to how he still wakes, or his distractions with how this version of the Maverick is perhaps one of his favorites.

The calm and beautiful version of a man so happy and content to enjoy as simple comforts such as small talk from sleeping in and refusing to move anywhere.

When the Maverick relaxes, Astaroth shifts a little bit closer, if only to keep that same comfortable distance between them (aka, despite being touched a lot now that he has Danta, there’s a selfish streak that still feels touch starved, like he’s making up for lost time). He may be the center of attention at the present moment, but like woodsmoke against the sun, he pales in comparison to the man he nestles in against. “I would be quite content with a day spent together, away from everyone else and the cold.” He murmurs thoughtfully, before he’s shifting enough to drape back over the Maverick’s torso, invading his space to press soft kisses along the edge of his jaw, aiming up to his ear. “And, perhaps I may be inclined for a haircut after some tea, what do you think, darling?” He withdraws with a playful glint to his dark gaze now that he’s moved out of the line of light that’s invaded their dark den.

Astaroth

come a little closer

idealism sits in prison
chivalry fell on his sword

"Enough," Danta whispers with a grin, as if to scold the other man for his sentimentality. He doesn't mean it one bit, of course, leaning in to brush his nose against Asta's and letting himself sit with the feeling for a moment, of being obligated to no one but himself and the man he's curled up against, of freedom and peace and the ability to simply relax when it suits him. Something he takes full advantage of now, Danta nuzzling against the hand in his hair and huffing out a laugh as Asta turns to stretch across him again.

"You know, I think I would enjoy that as well," he whispers, letting wicked fingers trickle up the length of the butcher's back, his head tilting to better welcome the chain of kisses Asta leaves along his jaw. "Mm, I could be tempted by tea," he agrees, grinning and slipping those same fingers up and into his lover's hair, gently teasing at the dark locks. "And only if you're sure. I would never presume to change anything about you that you didn't actually want."

Dantalion

I slithered here from Eden
just to sit outside your door

am i the wolf or the savior?
is my smile too sharp or just my teeth?

The chastise is gentle and soft and the butcher smiles into the brush of their noses, and if he had his mind on him to verbalize it, he’d quietly tell Danta that it would never be enough. Instead he says it with his body language, as he drapes and caresses the blonde’s cheek and toys with the strands of gold that are soft and featherlight against his fingertips.

He’s also content to settle into the comfort of zero expectations for the both of them, even as he starts to formulate some plans.

A shiver races up his spine with the warm fingers that dance up his back, over ridges and extended lines and fingers of scars that stretch out, into divots where his skin had healed poorly. It almost burns with the heat and the small amount of pain that sparks and the butcher relishes in it, trailing his kisses up the side of his jaw. Once his lovers fingers have made it to where they plunge into his dark hair, the butcher’s warm breath exhales out a touch sharply against Danta’s neck. “It has gotten a bit out of hand, I believe.” He drawls a little, shifting to dive his face into the open space of his neck and shoulder that the Maverick’s created where his head tilts.

“I typically cut it myself, you know. Alas I have never quite let it get this long.” He muses as he withdraws, nose brushing against his lovers jaw before he hovers back over him, the shadowed moon to eclipse his sun.

Astaroth

come a little closer

idealism sits in prison
chivalry fell on his sword

Feeling very much like something cherished and not knowing quite what to do with the sensation, the heat that rises in Danta's cheeks is luckily (mostly) hidden from Asta as he blazes his trail of kisses, leaving the Maverick to fuss over him accordingly. Even more so as he nestles in against his neck, Danta letting a crooked smile spread across his lips as he toys with the gentle waves in the butcher's hair, shamelessly admiring it.

"That's no bad thing," he says gently, bouncing his eyebrows up at the other man as he appears in his field of vision again. "I quite enjoy it when you get a bit out of hand," he reminds him. Nevertheless, he's sure he can do a satisfactory job if that's what Asta would like. "Mine used to be a touch longer than this," he muses. A long time ago now, granted, but still.

"Shall we make tea, then? Together, so I don't have to suffer through you abandoning me in bed?"

Dantalion

I slithered here from Eden
just to sit outside your door

am i the wolf or the savior?
is my smile too sharp or just my teeth?

He does cherish him. Immensely. Of all the things the butcher has collected and adored, the Maverick was absolutely at the top of the list. And he burns with a substantial amount of love and adoration for him. He continues to burn as Danta’s wicked fingers thread through the loose waves of his hair, in and behind the horns that sprout from his skull.

“It can be difficult in close combat.” Bouncing a brow playfully, the butcher’s lips quirk into a smirk as he peers down at his sun. “I recall a few times where even you had a chance — and succeeded — in grabbing a handful of my hair.” He muses playfully while he brushes his thumb along the soft, velveteen shaved portion of Danta’s locks. “Oh?” He asks as he begins to withdraw with the confirmation that tea was on the docket.

“Always, love.” Shifting to slide off the bed, his hand trails down the smooth scar flecked skin of the Maverick’s shoulder and arm until he can take his hand and help him up to stand with him. Nor does he let his hand go when he reaches for the beautiful red tea pot and a collection of varying teas, peering at each one to decide whether he was more in the mood for something sweet and deep and dark like a black tea or something more refreshing and fruity like a green tea. “Do you happen to have an opinion for what we should brew?” He asks, tail waving idly as he tries to decide.

Astaroth

come a little closer

idealism sits in prison
chivalry fell on his sword

"Why do you think I learned to braid?" Danta says with a sharp smile. "I only ever had to get my hair ripped out by the roots once to know I wasn't having it happen a second time." Then, of course, he'd awoken from his slumber a free man, and any sense of self-expression had been quick and chaotic - and he hasn't stopped since. Turning his head to nibble affectionately at the inside of Asta's lips, although he had been the one to suggest it, Danta does sigh dramatically when the other man finally draws away.

"Mm, I was quite proud of it," he says of his veritable lion's mane of hair. "I don't remember why I decided to cut it." It's a lie - he does, he just doesn't want to ruin their morning with his usual traumatic woes. Anyway. Slipping from bed with Asta's assistance, he leans easily against the other man, brushing his lips across his bare shoulder in a kiss and gazing down at the collection of tea that Asta has procured.

"Which is the one with, uh... with the cinnamon and cloves in it?" he decides (sort of), nodding down at the boxes as if they will understand what he means. "We should have that one."

Dantalion

I slithered here from Eden
just to sit outside your door

am i the wolf or the savior?
is my smile too sharp or just my teeth?

“Mm, understandable.” He rumbles with a soft laugh, before he presses a soft kiss to his lover in return. Ah, but then he’s tugging him up out of bed and as he listens, he draws the fire and candles up a bit higher for the added warmth in lieu of no longer having the blankets around them. “I quite like the variety you have come up with.” He purrs, because he can imagine why Danta would have wanted to cut it, but he also doesn’t wish to bring it up.

Even if he’d give him all of his loving attention to try and combat the cold, horrible memories.

“Mm, this one?” He asks as he reaches down to pluck a tin up. Scrawled on the side within a label reads Spiced Blend. Popping the lid off, the scent is immediately invasive with cloves and cinnamon, allspice and nutmeg. “A beautiful choice, darling.” Beyond content, the butcher releases the Maverick’s hand once he’s lowered it to the jut of his hip to keep their connection (sure that Danta would appreciate it) because he needs both hands to start getting the tea ready. The tea pot begins to warm in the flame while he preps the cups, and if Danta’s nestled in behind him, he’ll see just how long Asta’s hair has gotten.

It almost seems like a point of a spear where it drapes down his back, the sides much shorter and just past his shoulders while the main bulk of it stretches down to nearly the bottom of his shoulder blades, even with the way it weaves around his horns.

Astaroth

come a little closer

idealism sits in prison
chivalry fell on his sword

Danta absolutely appreciates it, all but glued to the other man as he fusses with the teapot and their cups, wondering briefly whether he'll always feel like this - like he wants his hands and his body all over Asta at every minute of the day - or whether eventually they'll settle into an equilibrium. He finds he wouldn't mind it either way, letting his fingers stroke thoughtfully across the jut of the butcher's hip, whispering kisses across his shoulder as he arranges the teapot and their cups.

"Damn, I didn't realise it was so long," he remarks, almost to himself as his free hand carefully fingercombs the dark hair spilling down Asta's back. "It's been a year since you woke up now, hasn't it...?" It had been Leafchange, he's sure of it. The realisation is a stark one, Danta smiling softly and tilting his head a bit to glance up at Asta over his shoulder.

"I almost feel like we should start a fight with each other. Tradition and all that," he says through a chuckle.

Dantalion

I slithered here from Eden
just to sit outside your door

am i the wolf or the savior?
is my smile too sharp or just my teeth?

The soft laugh bounces through him, slowly, so as to not jostle the soft touches to his hip that Danta offers. “Trimming has not been a priority.” Amongst other things, he supposes, like trying to figure out how to navigate this new version of Caido. At any rate, it is long, and a problem should it come loose during a brawl. He does glance over his shoulder to feel warm fingers comb through it with the soft rumble from his lover as he continues to fix their tea, pausing to drag the fire higher for the kettle. “It has been a year, yes.” Since so much had happened. It’s a wonder his head isn’t spinning right now.

He lets the water continue to come up in heat, only to bark a soft laugh of surprise as he turns to focus on the blonde, half turning in his embrace. “It would have to, quite literally, begin with you trying to bury me in a stony coffin, darling.” Despite the words, it’s very much affectionate alongside the smile that graces his face before he goes to steal a chaste kiss. “And I suppose, for me to try and devour you.” He says as he withdraws when the kettle sings. A smirk blooms on his face as he turns back, pulling the kettle away from the heat to add the tea to steep.

Astaroth

come a little closer

idealism sits in prison
chivalry fell on his sword

"Mm, well now you can make it a priority. Nothing has even tried to kill you in a season," Danta points out, the words mumbled against Asta's shoulder in another kiss, and he gently fluffs his fingers through the back of the butcher's hair as if to see how it falls. "How much do you want cut? It sits about here right now," he says, those same fingers falling between Asta's shoulder blades and falling to a halt.

Then the other man is turning, however, and Danta offers him a fanged grin as the memory replays itself. "I bet we could arrange that," he purrs, leaning into the kiss pressed to his lips. "Or at least the part where you try to devour me. I think we can probably skip the stony coffin part this year." Inhaling deeply as the scent of cinammon and spices fills the air, the Maverick relaxes anew, content to ignore the world outside for the one playing out in their room.

Dantalion

I slithered here from Eden
just to sit outside your door

am i the wolf or the savior?
is my smile too sharp or just my teeth?

“And it has been such a glorious session, no?” He nearly purrs with the thought, before he’s relaxing a fraction with amusement lingering in his gaze and actions as he goes by the dulled feeling of where Danta’s fingertips press gently against the scarred portion of his back. He considers the question, trying to decide what length he preferred — and without having to worry about scrapping so much, perhaps he can leave it longer. “Two inches of a trim, perhaps?” He suggests.

Ah, but the scent floods in and he twists in Danta’s arms to grow nostalgic over the thought of his awakening, the laugh still held behind shark toothed teeth. “I would very much appreciate that. My arms are sore just reminiscing about it.” Comes the feigned dramatics as he twists back around and snags the cups to pour the brew into when it’s ready. “Would you still abandon me on Torchline’s sunny shores?” He asks as he makes their tea precisely how they liked it. Asta’s a bit sweeter, but still beautifully spicy and comforting.

He turns to hand Danta his cup, next, and raises a brow with a small smirk to follow up his question.

Astaroth

come a little closer

idealism sits in prison
chivalry fell on his sword

"I certainly don't have any complaints," Danta smirks, though if he thinks about it, if anything or anyone has come close to killing him lately, it's the man in his arms and his flirting with the limits of his bloodlust. And he supposes he'd be worried, if Asta wasn't so damned irresistible when he gets in those moods. "Mm, I can do that," he confirms, walking his fingers those two inches up between the butcher's shoulders and nodding.

With a scoff of laughter, Danta draws back enough to let Asta make their tea, giving his bucep a gentle squeeze as he does. "I don't know, I'd say you're much stronger than you were when you first woke up. I think I could get away with throwing at least one boulder at you." As for abandoning him, though, the Maverick thinks they can probably do away with that part entirely.

"If I did it would be by accident," he assures him, accepting his cup and lifting it to his lips to enjoy the warmth of the spices in his throat. "It could have been worse. I might have abandoned you somewhere colder."

Dantalion

I slithered here from Eden
just to sit outside your door

am i the wolf or the savior?
is my smile too sharp or just my teeth?

With the decision made for exactly how much they intend to remove from his mane, the butcher focuses instead on the memory of how weak he had been upon waking up. A more sorrowful part of him realizes that in comparison to Danta, the butcher could have (and did) barely put up a fight even if they did end up brawling. The realization comes alongside the anger and trauma that his face inspired for the Maverick once he’d come back to.

He pushes the thoughts aside and sips from his tea, relishing in the gentle squeeze of his bicep. “I will allow the throwing of one boulder.” He decides as he’s turning. Tradition and all that.

It makes the shark toothed grin on his face soften into a more thoughtful one before he takes his sip, to hear that he wouldn’t be abandoned on purpose this time. And he might have let the sweetness of that comment stay if it weren’t for the follow up that has a deep laugh chuckling from him, having. To silence himself with the sip of tea he takes. “You would not have dared.” He bounces his brows playfully before he twists fully to lean against the table he’d put together their tea at, his free hand inviting Danta into his warmth.

Astaroth

come a little closer

idealism sits in prison
chivalry fell on his sword

Regardless of whether he'd ever take advantage of such permission, that he's granted one boulder has Danta's blue eyes lighting up with mischief, and he raises his cup in a toast with another sip of tea, as if to set it in stone. (Get it? Stone? Boulder?) "You and I know very well that of course I would have dared," he purrs, petulant and overconfident as he had been during their very first reunion. "Whether I was successful is another matter entirely."

Honestly, the odds are good that Danta would have ended up trapping himself in said cold region alongside Asta, and wouldn't that have made for a grand story? Putting it to the back of his mind, he instead sidles closer so he can tuck himself against the butcher, enjoying the slow thrum of heat from his body and from the drink in his hands. Smiling to himself, he glances around the twilit room.

"I think this is the first real day off I've taken in a long time," he remarks. For all of his chaos and shenanigans, Danta does scatter work in between it. It's a rarity for him to keep to his rooms all day.

Dantalion

I slithered here from Eden
just to sit outside your door