bang bang bang

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

A dramatic gasp leaves him in response to Danta’s statement, as if it’s wholly and completely unbelievable. “It most certainly does not.” He feigns all sorts of tired, loopy dramatics, even as he keeps his hand at Danta’s lower back. At the offer, though, perfectly sated as he is, his teeth are nowhere near when he laps up any lingering taste of chocolate and rum.

Then, straightening as he collects his cup to take a heavy sip as Danta drifts to lock the door, the butcher flashes him a bright smile as he returns and takes a sip. Once the cup is down, the butcher finally finds it in him to help — warmed externally by the flames and internally by the rum, he helps to peel Danta’s clothes off. Once he’s successful, he collects his mug and drifts toward their den, his hand reaching out to drag along the bones that hang around the outside under the mezzanine. “I do, don’t I?” It’s a belated purr of ego, the butcher twisting to set his cup on his side so that he can slip out of the rest of his clothes.

Astaroth

come a little closer

idealism sits in prison
chivalry fell on his sword

"Does it not? Tell that to your expression right now," Danta purrs back at Asta, grinning around another sip of cocoa after he's succeeded in shoving down the suspenders off his shoulders. Which happens to be very well-timed, given that the butcher is soon on his way to help, the Maverick stifling a laugh as he balances his drink while trying to slip out of his shirt. For better or worse, they seem to be successful, Danta ducking beneath the canopy of their den in time to hear the soft, hollow music of the bones.

"You haven't made any new trinkets for a while," he remarks, setting down his mug as well and slipping up behind Asta to interrupt him, draping himself against his scarred back. "We'll have to find some time for you to get out all your creativity." His arms slip loosely around the other man's waist, taking over in tugging off his belt and unbuttoning his pants, even as he delivers a warm kiss to the back of his neck.

"Not tonight, of course. But soon."

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?

“Pshhh,” Astaroth rolls his eyes affectionately as he steps closer to the Maverick to start to help remove the rest of his clothes. Once he’s content with the result, he’s collected his cup and sat on his side of the bed, listening to the slow resounding echoes of the bones as they clink dully together.

He starts to work on the rest of his clothes when he feels Danta’s arms snake around him and the press of warmth that floods along his scarred back. “That is why I took the antlers.” He informs him, tilting his head to give Danta a bit more room, his dark hair meshing with the feathery light gold of Danta’s as he’s helped in turn.

His shoulders seem more slumped, like he can’t bring himself to retain his perfect posture from his exhaustion. “I do agree, however. Perhaps with the weather getting colder there will be more opportunity for trinkets from the clinic..” He muses idly, slipping out of the rest of his clothes before he’s pressing back against Danta, angling his head to rest it back against his shoulder where he won’t impale him with his antlers, pressing a soft kiss to the side of his neck in turn.

Astaroth

come a little closer

idealism sits in prison
chivalry fell on his sword

"Yeah, that's what I thought." Grinning and deciding that he's had the last word on the matter, Danta settles comfortably behind the butcher after helping to tease him out of the rest of his clothes. All but catching him as he slouches back, the Maverick's hands are warm and gentle, passing over the scars on Asta's chest and pressing carefully into the tense muscles of his shoulders.

"Oh, I see. What do you think you want to do with them?" he asks of the antlers, turning his head to leave a featherlight kiss against the other man's temple. "When it gets to Deepfrost maybe we can find some luxere antlers. I always wondered if they still glowed once they left the deer." Not to mention whatever goodies he might be able to obtain from the clinic.

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?

Content to let the conversation die and Danta to have the last word, it’s only due to his exhaustion that he doesn’t try to continue it as he embraces the comfort of warmth that spreads from the Maverick. His eyes shut, lips brushing against the side of his neck as the butcher considers what he intends to make with the antlers in question. “I am not sure, yet.” He hums, before the Maverick’s musing has him perking up despite the kiss to his temple.

“Ooh,” he purrs, tail curling around Danta wherever it can, the flat spaded portion flattening against his skin. “Perhaps we should try to take an entire skull and craft it into a finger bone chandelier.” Comes his tired and crafty musings, pausing only as he considers it a little bit longer before he’s twisting and pressing another kiss to the Maverick’s neck, invading his space to push him back so that he might fight with the blankets to get the two Ancients underneath them.

Astaroth

come a little closer

idealism sits in prison
chivalry fell on his sword

"We'll get you a board to pin all your ideas onto," Danta suggests with a smile, his head tilting to welcome Asta's affections against his throat, his lips warm and voice seeming to rumble throughout the Maverick when he speaks. "Now that would be something," he agrees, able to envision such a thing in the Temple, or perhaps in the main floor of the Dusklight. (And nobody needs to know they are real finger bones, right?)

Flailing a bit as he finds himself bullied back into bed, Danta barks out a laugh and helps as best he can to settle the blankets over them, tugging them across Asta and twisting enough that the other man can collapse atop him if that's what he wishes. "Sleep," he urges softly, letting his fingers plunge into the back of the butcher's dark hair. "You're exhausted. We can think about this more tomorrow."

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?

Snorting at the idea, the sound is deep and amusing as the butcher tries to imagine a board with all of his crafty desires, little sketches drawn out from the parchment of his office down below, pinned to the board, to be viewed and enhanced upon. It isn’t a terrible idea, even if the butcher pretends like it’s a lot. Instead, he focuses on the chandelier while he starts to bully Danta back into the bed. “The tines glowing with wicks at the ends for added light, each one draped with bones by wires to move within the breeze..” Comes the quiet, nearly delirious musings.

Until he’s finally gotten where he wants to be — precisely where he drapes over Danta like a thin, bony and tall blanket. His eyes shut as he winds his arms around the blonde, nosing into his chest, relaxing to scent the sage amongst the faint citrus, the hint of rum and chocolate lingering as well. But his relaxation only truly occurs when Danta’s slipping his hands into the butcher’s long, soft hair. “Sure, darling.” Comes the muffled purr from where his face is pressed into the other man.

He doesn’t last long after that, his body slumping a bit more as sleep takes him away once again.

Astaroth

come a little closer

idealism sits in prison
chivalry fell on his sword

Danta doesn't have the heart to admit to Asta that he likely won't remember this idea in the morning - and the Maverick has very little chance of keeping track of it either, given how quickly his mind is liable to flit from place to place. It's enough that the thoughts are able to lull Asta back into his slumber, Danta shifting only a little to get comfortable and to arrange the blankets around them, before he's drawing the fire and the candles low and letting himself relax further.

He isn't long to pass out after the butcher, and thankfully for them both, it's a quiet and dreamless night.

That doesn't mean the Maverick is an early riser the following day, though, and it's only the thud of someone unloading a delivery outside that finally drags him out of his snooze. Having moved during the night only enough to roll onto his side, he's still got his arms wound around Asta, nose buried in his dark hair and the tines of his horns dangerously close to his face, not that he seems to care.

Grumbling and clutching the butcher a little closer, his tail thrashes with annoyance beneath the sheets, giving him away entirely.

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 sleeps like a rock. Moving only with Danta’s encouragement in his sleep, the butcher hardly notices that he’s warm from both the bundle of blankets he’s corralled into his front and the warmth that radiates from Danta at his back. He’s completely unaware, head pressed into the pillow and horns pointed in a dangerous angle toward the Maverick’s handsome face. Luckily, when the delivery is dropped, the butcher doesn’t move in response to it.

Not immediately, at least.

He hears the grumble in his odd and strange dreams of crafting the biggest most menacing antler tiered chandelier (ironically), and slowly feels the heat of his breath breathed into his dark hair. “Mm?” Asta grumbles, himself, throat hoarse and soft. His eyes don’t open, nor does he change anything about the positioning aside from shifting his arms down to wind with the other Ancient’s, tail winding around Danta’s leg as if to prevent him from getting up. (Like his subconscious thinks Danta would.)

Astaroth

come a little closer

idealism sits in prison
chivalry fell on his sword

"Five more minutes," Danta breathes, as if the butcher's soft sound of confusion had been an alarm clock and he'd been trying to convince them to rise and shine. Smiling to himself to feel the familiar press of a tail winding around his leg, the Maverick takes it for all the permission in the world to stay right where he is, nuzzling further into the crook of Asta's neck and letting himself melt against the other man's body.

He even slips in and out of a doze after that for gods know how long, their combined heat and the heavy curtains (not to mention the canopy of fabric for their den) easily fooling him into believing it's still dark outside. Eventually, inevitably, though, Danta does stretch out against Asta's back, body trembling with the effort, and his blue eyes peep open. "Morning."

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?

Asta is not so lucky to get those additional dozing sessions in. The five more minutes actually forces him to start to think, like they’ve missed something or have an appointment for some godforsaken thing. But he does not move, not when sense comes to him and the delirium of the night before is easily forgotten.

No, the butcher simply relishes in the way Danta’s arms feel against him, wound tightly as if to prevent him from leaving. As if the butcher would dare to. He counts the minutes only by the soft and warm breaths that leave his lover, in the low din of the morning that soon changes to afternoon. It’s only when the light begins to creep into their curtained off den that he moves slightly, ensuring his head is angled enough to make sure his horns don’t accidentally harm the Maverick.

His calloused fingertips have taken to gentle smooth strokes, like a painters paint brush down along Danta’s arms, stopping only when the blonde wakes and stretches, the morning greeted by the butcher’s soft smile and slow, soft blinks against the light that’s crept in to turn the otherwise mahogany into vibrant golden amber as he peers over at the Maverick. “Good morning, love.” Comes the deep and gentle purr, the butcher twisting a little bit more to nose his way to press a soft kiss to his jaw.

Astaroth

come a little closer

idealism sits in prison
chivalry fell on his sword

What's so good about it? Danta might have asked if it hadn't been quite so obvious - Asta is what makes it good - and instead he smiles and loosens his grip on the other man enough for him to turn. Accepting the soft kiss and letting out a long, content sigh, he reaches up to smooth a lock of hair from Asta's forehead, settling it behind his horns like a bit of liquid night.

"I can trim this for you, you know," he says, sleepily latching onto the first thought in his head, letting his finger curl around the dark tendril of hair. "Not much, of course. Enough to keep it from getting out of hand, though." Unless the butcher wants it out of hand, of course, and Danta's smirk suggests that he's entirely fine with that prospect as well.

"How did you sleep?"

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?

There are many good things about this morning, and he would iterate them along the same lines that Danta’s internal thoughts land. He settles precisely in his arms despite how the hair is tugged from his face, far longer now than it had been when he’d first come back. And in lieu of trusting anyone enough with it, it’s grown past his shoulders now, a mane that he’s managed to keep under control. Except when sacked out as he had been, or when sedatives seem the vibe for the night.

“I adore waking up to the imagery of you wielding blades near my face.” He hums with a playful tug of a smirk, flashing pale and sharp teeth at the Maverick. His own hand lifts, slipping up to caress his cheek in turn, fingertips carding through the rays of gold just above the shaved portion of hair.

The butcher very quickly realizes he’s the shadow to the Maverick in more ways than one. Danta is the golden sunflare, the fire that burns so brightly and so swiftly, chaos and beauty wrapped into one, so bright it almost hurts to witness. And in comparison? The butcher is the oil slick night, the foggy evenings that make the world seem so small, that fill the air with such heavy dread that one would choke if not careful.

Two sides of the same coin, at the end of the day.

“I slept as if I had died for a portion of my slumber.” He says before his mind can run away with more poetics. “How did you sleep?” He asks, thumb brushing against the high arch of his cheekbone.

Astaroth

come a little closer

idealism sits in prison
chivalry fell on his sword

"Mm, I thought you'd like that." Grinning and leaning into the touch that grazes across his cheek, Danta relaxes against the heat radiating from Asta's palm, turning his head eventually to press his lips to the inside of his wrist. "Of all the people in Caido, you are the safest around me with any weapon you could think of, you know that." Except perhaps for the Maverick's tricky fingers, but he tries to only use those for good when he's with the butcher.

Relaxing back into the bed and against the other man, he offers him a sleepy and content smile. "I slept as if I could happily go back to it for the rest of the day," he admits. "I think the cold last night must have taken it out of me more than I thought." It's true that Leafchange is still fairly mild, but being out in only single layers all the way into the dead of night probably hadn't been their wisest move.

Dantalion

I slithered here from Eden
just to sit outside your door