i've always liked to play with fire

Astaroth

// i ride the edge, my speed goes in the red //

Humming a note, Asta’s gaze focuses a bit too sharply on the Maverick’s, the tone not harboring the bite he expects even as his brows pinch and his stomach sinks a bit further as the gift is passed off to the side. He’s nearly prepared to start a monologue of why now is precisely the best time, if only so it meant that the blonde doesn’t push him out or away, his lips twitching as they gear toward a frown. His shirt is disregarded as he formulates the words and Danta kicks off his shoes, which certainly should be an indicator to the butcher that he isn’t going anywhere, but Astaroth doesn’t trust it well enough yet.

At least, until the arm snags him and he loses just enough balance to slip onto the bed – one he’s so sorely missed it almost hurts how welcome the feeling is with the weight and warmth of Danta curling up into him. He loosens a breath that’s been caught in his throat, good arm winding around the other man’s shoulders, head adjusting to offer him more room when the quiet stay is heard.

And with the anxieties slowly leeching from his churning stomach, Astaroth curls and holds Danta to him a bit too tight. “Of course I’ll stay.” He says as if there’s no other option – which for him, the idea of blasphemous – and he tilts his head to rest his cheek against the spikey part of Danta’s horn, finally taking a breath that seems far less shaky than he expects it to be. “Take as long as you require.” Comes the softer edged request – both for himself, too, because gods, he doesn’t know what he would have done had the Maverick pushed him away. Something dramatic and stupid, he imagines.

For now, though, he shifts to curl into Danta all the same, arms winding around him and one hand lifted to run through sunkissed gold, simply taking in the shared heat, the familiar scent, and using each and every one of those grounding feelings to piece him back together.

// hot blood, these veins, my pleasure is their pain //

Dantalion

innocence died screaming
honey, ask me, I should know

Completely unaware of the importance of his staying or the potential travesty that Asta pairs with his initial rejection of the gift, for Danta at least, now that the anger (and fear, not that he'll ever admit it) has fizzled out and has nowhere else to go, exhaustion is all that's left. Exhaustion and relief and the overwhelming desire to return to something familiar and easy, so as the other man curls around him, offering the warmth of his skin and a welcome darkness to hide in, the Maverick wants for nothing else.

"Thanks," he mumbles, his voice muffled against the side of the butcher's neck, and though his eyes are already closed, Asta might feel the smile that curls across Danta's lips at the feel of fingers in his hair. "He can get thoughtful presents, but he can't write a fucking letter," he sasses quietly, an indication above all that things are exactly as they should be between them again.

Alas, there won't be any further witty remarks from the Maverick after that for some time, because for the best part of the next couple of hours, he's out cold, snoring against Asta's shoulder and flailing should the other man try to extract himself. By the time Danta comes around from his nap, in fact, the distant music from outside the butcher's door will indicate that the Dusklight is back in full swing and then some.

"If anyone causes trouble they can just kill each other," he decides, voice roughened by sleep and still mumbled into Asta's neck. "Security is busy right now."

I slithered here from Eden
just to sit outside your door

Table base by Skylark

Astaroth

// i ride the edge, my speed goes in the red //

He can feel the exhaustion that clings to Danta, if only for how heavy the other man becomes in his arms, but the butcher will never find a complaint come to mind, even when the quip is met with such normalcy that he can’t help the huff of a laugh that escapes his throat. “My writing hand is sore.” He responds as if it were only that and not the fact he hadn’t even fucking thought about it. Though it doesn’t matter – because no sooner than the quip has left Danta’s lips, the blonde is passed out in his arms, and Astaroth finally finds some semblance of peace.

He spends those couple of hours half dozing himself and half continuing to offer attentions to Danta in the face of fingercombing his hair, running his hand along the other man’s shoulder in gentle swipes, soaking in the comfortable warmth and weight offered in the familiarity of his own room. And it feels like things should be right as they were, like there wasn’t any argument beforehand, like there wasn’t any worry that he might not show up to darken the Dusklight’s doorstep anymore.

Music swells from outside the room and Astaroth finds himself lulled by it, until Danta’s hoarse voice rises and signals he’s woken up, allowing the butcher to shift ever so slightly to press his bearded cheek back in against Danta’s crown. “I am perfectly content with that.” Asta hums, tail curling up against Danta’s leg that’s still thrown over his own. “Besides, I am your security. I am currently succeeding at my position.” Comes the quieter playfulness, like a test that things are back to normal.

// hot blood, these veins, my pleasure is their pain //

Dantalion

innocence died screaming
honey, ask me, I should know

"Damn straight," Danta rumbles his agreement, the words framed by a smile, and he spends a moment to stretch out in the bed and against the other man like a lazy cat, before curling right back up once more. "I'd argue that you deserve a promotion, but I wouldn't want your ego to get too big," he continues with a smirk. "Besides, where do you go from head of security? I could make you... elite bodyguard?" he suggests.

Peeling his eyes open to peep towards the butcher's door, Danta spends a moment or so listening to the music and voices before deciding he has no interest right now, nestling back against the other man. "I wish we had a cup and some string," he mutters. "We could order wine from out at the bar." It would never work, especially with the current noise levels, but the Maverick evidently isn't firing on all cylinders again just yet.

"Unless you want to get up and get it?"

I slithered here from Eden
just to sit outside your door

Table base by Skylark

Astaroth

// i ride the edge, my speed goes in the red //

He doesn’t think he’s ever been so relieved to hear such a simple string of two words, evident in the way he relaxes the rest of his taught muscles the second that Danta stretches out before returning. Playfulness returns in full and Astaroth chuckles lightly to hear the fumbling of what his new title would be. And after a second of thinking about it, he decides that elite has a quite nice ring to it. “Elite, mm?” He asks, letting his lips quirk in a smirk as if it truly is getting to his head. It isn’t, but the fun is still there.

Music continues to bleed through the closed and locked door, and his hand continues to run idle little marks and symbols into the Maverick’s back, when the suggestion hits of wine and retrieving such a thing. Gods, it sounds heavenly too, and with everything he has to make up for the other man, Astaroth is already starting to move the second it’s suggested.

Pressing his luck as well, Astaroth shifts the other Ancient more onto his back, hovering over him as he gets his legs untangled from the mess of blankets and limbs, and once he has he leans in for a chaste kiss, before withdrawing to stand. It’s with a bit of soreness that he slips on his shirt, deciding to wear something rather than have the rest of the Dusklight oogling his new (and admittedly beautiful) stitches.

He flashes one of his charming sharp toothed grins over his shoulder before he vanishes for a few minutes, slipping into the heat and warmth of the Dusklight in full swing, returning with a bottle of Danta’s favorite wine, two glasses, and a tray of snacks. It’s a bit of a juggling act, but he manages to get it to the bed, sliding the tray on before he hands Danta his own glass and sits on the bed to remove his shirt once more (hating the sensation of the fabric against the stitching), before he opens it to fill Danta’s glass. “Help yourself, darling.” He hums to the tray of snacks he’d brought, as if it weren’t obvious it was for the both of them.

// hot blood, these veins, my pleasure is their pain //

Dantalion

innocence died screaming
honey, ask me, I should know

Rolling his eyes - whether he's joking or not, Danta knew elite would have a nice ring to it for the butcher - but deigning not to comment, the Maverick instead relaxes back in to enjoy the soft and idle touches running across his back and shoulders. It's the sort of affection he'd balk at were they upright and in public, but here and now, gods but nothing seems to matter but the continued warmth and the sleepy presence beside him.

Which is precisely why it's a surprise (despite the fact that he'd instigated it with his question) when Astaroth shifts and moves, and the protest is already on his lips as he's pinned in bed, only to find himself promptly silenced by the other man's kiss. Frowning but not seeming at all put out by it, Danta glares after Asta as he leaves, and then draws the blankets over his head.

By the time the butcher returns, at least, the Maverick pulls himself into a reluctant sitting position, the blanket still around his shoulders and his fair hair a desperate mess around his horns. "Mm, I plan to," he grumbles, barely waiting for Asta to shrug out of his shirt and sit down before shuffling to sit behind him, pressed against his back and holding out the glass expectantly for the wine.

"Thanks," he adds with a belated smile, snagging a slice of apple drizzled with honey to enjoy even as his head lolls back against the other man's good shoulder. "How is it out there? Busy? I bet the staff were all dying to get a look at you."

I slithered here from Eden
just to sit outside your door

Table base by Skylark

Astaroth

// i ride the edge, my speed goes in the red //

Not unlike a little ghost shrouded in blankets, does Astaroth find Danta as he returns. Temporarily, given the blanket comes off as he sets the tray down and the second he shrugs out of the shirt and sits back on the bed, Danta’s warmth is shared against his spine, and the tension that has been settling in his shoulders starts to bleed away.

Pouring the wine into the glasses and setting it on the nightstand beside the bed, Asta draws his long legs up and crosses them under him, reaching back with his free arm to tug the Maverick a little bit closer. “You’re welcome, my dear.” He hums as he takes a sip so casually, swallowing it down to tilt his head lightly against the long blonde he can feel brushing against his good shoulder, bearded jaw meeting the stubble of the other man’s shaved head. “Quite busy.” He begins to say. “I got invited thrice on my journey to retrieve this. And someone even managed to grab a handful of my ass.” He drawls the last bit, and if he had visible fyrhund ears at the moment, you can bet they’d be pinned.

“I left behind an imprint of my tail. My hands were busy, you see.” A low hum of a laugh starts to break from him.

// hot blood, these veins, my pleasure is their pain //

Dantalion

innocence died screaming
honey, ask me, I should know

Munching on his slice of apple before nestling his head back against the crook of Asta's neck, Danta's chuckle is something the other man will feel before he hears it. "Quite busy is no bad thing," he assures him, more than happy to be tugged closer, his tail sweeping decadently behind him against the sheets. "It's been quiet here, since you've been away."

Which, in fairness, given the time between Danta leaving and Asta joining in that journey, is only a couple of days at most. But the tension that has been locked in the Maverick's shoulders until now makes it seem like a lot longer.

"Thrice, you say?" He grins, pausing only to take a generous sip of his wine, his free hand working its way around the other man's middle to leech away all of his warmth. "You are one of the most popular men in the Dusklight, you know. And you haven't once shown my workers what they are missing." He smiles a fanged kiss against the butcher's throat; they both know why, of course, but imagining it is still entertaining.

At the news that someone had actually tried to cop a feel of Asta, though, Danta barks out a laugh that's only a touch tinged with possessive jealousy. "Good," he purrs, nuzzling his way obnoxiously beneath the other man's jaw. "Don't want anyone getting too comfortable with you. You're meant to be untouchable elite security, you know."

Hypocritical of him, but so be it.

I slithered here from Eden
just to sit outside your door

Table base by Skylark

Astaroth

// i ride the edge, my speed goes in the red //

He has a large ego, obviously, but not so large as to assume that the Dusklight’s quiet lull was due to his absence. He had noticed, of course, that it seemed almost wilder, like it had held a breath for so long and now without harboring the tension, the ante has been upped double. Either way, the butcher settles, sipping at the wine as he offers the news of how his trek had gone, taking a slice of the honey drizzled apples and snapping into it with ease from his sharp teeth.

“Thrice.” He confirms, adjusting slightly to better fit Danta’s hand that winds its way around his middle, while the butchers tail starts to twist around one of Danta’s legs. “And I shall continue to do so.” He says casually, with a rumbling laugh of his own as his head adjusts to the kiss pressed to his throat.

A laugh that he sighs away as the other man nuzzles up under his jaw in such a way he can’t indulge in the wine. It isn’t as though he minds it, though, popping in the rest of the apple bite, chewing it quickly before swallowing it down and promptly leaning back a bit to press against Danta’s chest. “Mm, correct. What kind of image would that give off if everyone could touch me?” He muses the hypothetical before he tilts his head toward Danta to press his lips nearer to his ear. “That is a perk only designated for my employer.” Comes the quiet hum of amusement, the way his grin perks in the corners toward a smirk.

// hot blood, these veins, my pleasure is their pain //

Dantalion

innocence died screaming
honey, ask me, I should know

Asta believing it or not doesn't make it any less true, though whether it's because of the tall Ancient's absence or rather the effect said absence has had on the Dusklight's proprietor is anyone's guess. (And those within the establishment are quite astute at guessing, though they likely keep it to themselves).

"How disappointed they will be," Danta croons, reaching back to the tray to select another slice of apple. "You're quite right, though," he adds, juggling the wine and the apple so he can eat without putting either down or letting go of the butcher. "You do have a reputation to maintain."

A reputation he really ought to be flaunting right now, instead of being sequestered away with the Maverick, but as he turns and his lips brush along Danta's jaw and closer to his ear, he can't find himself caring too much. "Well, I ought to have some perks," he agrees with a grin, pausing only to finish his apple before chasing it down with another sweet sip of wine. "It's a very stressful job, you know, running this place."

It's a remark that may or may not be true, depending on the day, but what is clear is that Danta has been feeling the other man's absence, professional or otherwise.

"I'm glad you're alright," he mutters, the words almost mumbled into Asta's shoulder. "And I'm well aware that we should probably be out there with the rest of the Dusklight. I just don't want to, right now."

I slithered here from Eden
just to sit outside your door

Table base by Skylark

Astaroth

// i ride the edge, my speed goes in the red //

A low chuckle leaves his lips as he watches Danta juggle the wine and the apple slice, all while pausing until the other man is content before he takes another sip of his wine, letting it warm his insides and chase away the lingering frost of awkwardness and nervousness that has uncharacteristically trapped the butcher earlier. Things feel back to normal, at least, with their playful banter returning. “I most certainly do.” He murmurs softly, before he’s making a go at nuzzling his head against Danta’s shaved portion, lips finding a jeweled ear to purr his little hum of the blonde’s position over him.

He can feel the grin stretch across the Maverick’s face, even as he withdraws slightly to allow him to finish the apple slice and the sip of wine. “I can only imagine, darling.” He hums – surprisingly truthful, given that he’d never ran a place like this (wouldn’t even dare to try), but he can keep an eye on security. That, at least, lands within his repertoire.

The mumbled words into his shoulder have him tilting his head back again to press into the blonde waves of Danta’s crown, nose wrinkling at the admission. “I am too.” He says to the first half before he heaves a quite whiny sigh. “Let them manage. They manage just fine without us when we travel, do they not?” He hums thoughtfully, downing the rest of his wine and placing the glass elsewhere to focus on Danta as he starts to half turn a little, enough that his free hand with the dark stitching can reach up to try and tame some of the blonde back from his face, before his finger trails along the other man’s jaw. “I selfishly wish to remain unbothered, right here with you.” He realizes he doesn’t have any room to be selfish, but it doesn’t stop him from saying it anyway.

// hot blood, these veins, my pleasure is their pain //

Dantalion

innocence died screaming
honey, ask me, I should know

"Mm, and if your imagination gets bored with that, just add being Theocrat into it as well," Danta mutters, preening and shifting under the other man's attentions, the nips to his ear, the nuzzles against his jaw and cheek. Taking another long sip of his wine - and, like Asta, finishing the glass - he stretches enough to set it down beside the other man's before both arms slip around the butcher, treating him as an impromptu hot water bottle.

The smile that curls across the Maverick's lips is one of indulgent rebellion as he hears Asta's opinion on the party they're missing and the shenanigans that might go on out from under the butcher's watchful eye. "Mm, I suppose that's a good point. Or at least if they don't manage, we don't hear about it." But then perhaps they should employ an apprentice for Astaroth to train. Something to consider in a time that isn't now.

Sitting up a fraction as the other man turns, Danta nips playfully at the fingers that try to fuss over his hair before leaning into the hand that grazes across his jaw, indulgent of this particular touch. "Good," he purrs, his lips brushing carefully over the soft skin just before the dark stitching. "Then it's guaranteed to be a good night."

I slithered here from Eden
just to sit outside your door

Table base by Skylark

Astaroth

// i ride the edge, my speed goes in the red //

“Theocrat.” Asta repeats the words on an airy, dramatic purr, despite giving Danta all of the attention he can muster in this particular position where the Maverick is more inclined to be a backpack than anything else. But he does manage to adjust them and garner his affection wherever he can, smirking lightly to the idea that they’re nonethewiser should the Dusklight not manage without their boding presence.

Danta’s teeth nip at his fingers as he fusses and it only sparks a sharp grin to tug across the butcher’s face, cupping the other man’s cheek eventually and indulging in the gentle brush of his lips against his soft inner wrist, Asta’s tail unwinds from the Maverick’s leg to instead brush against the side of the other man. “Indeed it is.” He hums, punctuating it with a glimmer of mischief before he’s twisting and tugging Danta into his lap, keeping him just as close against him as possible as his free hand waves around in search for the gift that had gotten pushed to the end of the bed.

Plopping it back into the Maverick’s lap, dark eyes are expectant this time as he scans the other man’s face. “Now will you indulge me and open your present?”

// hot blood, these veins, my pleasure is their pain //

Dantalion

innocence died screaming
honey, ask me, I should know

"Mmhm," Danta confirms with a smug raise of his eyebrows. "I chose that title specifically because of the connotations it had to Dygra. I don't feel as though any Ancient wants to be a king or a queen. Nothing so lowly would suit us. A representative of our goddess, though, and everything she stands for?" He grins. "Jealous?"

He doubts it, honestly, given the way Asta twists and manages to tug him around and into his lap, the Maverick's expression flooded momentarily with surprise. "Someone has gotten stronger," he remarks, shifting to adjust against the other man, an arm winding carelessly around his shoulders as he fusses for the gift Danta had so casually discarded earlier.

Rolling his eyes as it's placed into his lap, the Maverick eyes the deep purple paper before he smirks back at Asta. "Isn't purple the Family's colour?" he remarks, but nonetheless settles enough so he can tear the paper away. Some might have carefully unwrapped it, being minfdul of each crisp fold, but the Maverick is not that way.

I slithered here from Eden
just to sit outside your door

Table base by Skylark