bang bang bang

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

Toasting in turn with the Maverick (consider it cemented ;) ), the butcher takes another sweet sip of the tea, warming himself further from the inside out, relishing in the way those beautiful blues brighten up. It’s in a similar vein of how the butcher’s own darken with a playful shadow of his own aloof mischief, an almost snobby tilt of his head as he lets the low laugh tumble from his lips. “You could not have gotten rid of me if you tried. You needed the distraction of the large crowds, did you not?” Because he is attentive. When he tries to be, at least.

At any rate, tucking the Maverick in against his chest, the butcher sparks his glamour right in time to let his horns vanish, his hair falling forward somewhat as he tucks his head in against Danta’s shoulder in a reversal of earlier. “Is it everything you wished it to be?” He asks, surprisingly considerate, surprisingly and suddenly willing to change whatever if it meant that his lover had the perfect day.

Astaroth

come a little closer

idealism sits in prison
chivalry fell on his sword

"Mm, I suppose that's true. And it would be even more difficult now that you aren't fresh out of the rock." The bustling, half-floating island had been a perfect shock to the system for Asta and a perfect escape for Danta at the time. In retrospect it had been remarkably cruel of him to leave the other man to fend for himself after centuries beneath the stone, but then again, they hadn't exactly been friends at the time. Now, though, he leans into the butcher just as he nestles against his shoulder, more comfortable here than anywhere else in Caido.

"Yes, it is," he tells him softly, turning his head to take full advantage of not being skewered by the sharp tines of Asta's horns, kissing the crown of his head and reaching out to set his cup down on the table. "Though it could probably use more cowbell, if I'm being honest." The wickedness of his smile is audible in his voice, and he twists to slip his arms around Asta to hold him close as if to prevent any of the consequences the butcher might be considering.

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?

“Precisely.” He agrees before he’s nestling in comfortably against his lover’s smooth, warm shoulder. Regardless of how cruel it was, Astaroth had some experience when it came to visiting places that were vastly unlike what he was used to. And it allowed him to get a change of clothes before he appeared in the Hollowed Grounds to torment the Maverick some more.

Here and now, though, apparently Asta is the one to be tormented. And it is a very good thing that his lover’s arms slip around him when the horrible reminder passes through his too perfect lips. “Absolutely not!” Comes the immediate complaint, arms attempting to move to shrug out of this comfortable embrace if only so there’s some kind of punishment for the terrible thing the Maverick has reminded him of.

He gets nowhere (though he admittedly isn’t trying very hard) and instead huffs a very hot breath against Danta’s neck before his chaos seizes him with the sensation of being ‘trapped’, he leans in and presses his teeth against Danta’s shoulder — not enough to draw blood unless his lover shifts just so to make him, but enough that the threat is there.

He still despises the cowbell.

Astaroth

come a little closer

idealism sits in prison
chivalry fell on his sword

Danta's laughter echoes around the room, especially as the butcher gives him the reaction he's been hoping for, though he does have to lock his arms around him further to stop him from squirming out of reach. "Come on, just a little cowbell?" he teases, tail lashing with amusement even as he feels the sudden prick of teeth against his shoulder. Perhaps wisely, the Maverick stills to avoid unintentionally introducing the other man's sharp fangs to his flesh, relaxing his grip around Asta.

"Fine, fine - you win this time," he grumbles good-naturedly, grinning and tilting the other man's chin up to meet his lips in a kiss. One that he almost doesn't want to part from, in truth, Danta melting against Asta and looping his arms around his waist. "Come on," he invites, nodding over his shoulder towards the large mirror. "Let's pamper you, and then we can see about the rest of the day."

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?

A hiss precedes the threat that becomes very apparent as Astaroth’s teeth find their place to rest against his lover's shoulder, not intending to bite unless Danta forces his hand. Or, more likely, forces the sharpened teeth to sink into flesh that’s already scarred from the very teeth that offer the threat.

Honestly, the Maverick is quite the warning sign. And it’s a good thing Danta doesn’t mind it.

Immediately withdrawing so he doesn’t scratch or draw blood when Danta concedes. He’s easily readjusted, chin tilting up into the siren song that are Danta’s lips. And there’s some sense of equal reluctance from the butcher, pressing into the kiss and lingering, relaxing as he does snake a hand out of the trap the blonde has put him in to caress the side of his jaw if only to prolong it a few moments longer.

Parting is inevitable, though, and Astaroth trails his nose and lips against the sharp jut of his high cheekbones as he hums a wistful sound. “Is there something I can do for you in return?” He asks, in case there’s something he hasn’t thought about beyond the tea and general being a blanket and at his whim, that Danta might be craving.

At any rate, he does reluctantly withdraw enough to finish his cup of tea and make his way to the large mirror, settling into the seat in front of it.

Astaroth

come a little closer

idealism sits in prison
chivalry fell on his sword

"Aside from the cowbell?" Danta raises his eyebrows playfully, patting Asta on the ass as he sends him on his way to the mirror, the Maverick pottering around to get his comb and scissors and brightening the fire in the lanterns so he might better see what he's doing. "I don't offer expecting anything in return," he says thoughtfully, padding across the room and dragging up a stool to sit behind the other man, dropping a kiss or two against the top of his shoulder.

"Spending time around you makes me happy." He shrugs, flashing a wry smile to Asta in their reflections. "Even more when I can do something for you. Then again, I imagine you feel the same way..." Furrowing his brow and scooting a little closer, Danta considers. "Alright. In return, after this... I'd like to stretch my wings a little." It's a testing of the waters; the Maverick has kept his first and oldest shift under a tight hold for the best part of three seasons, and whilst he absolutely won't push the butcher on the matter, well, he did ask.

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 smack to his and the cowbell comment are answered by the very dramatic eye roll as he stalks over to the, settling into the seat in front of it, taking a good look at himself for a few long moments without his horns, looking for all the world, mundane and dull while Danta retrieved the scissors and comb. He watches him in the reflection of the mirror upon his approach, a soft smile blooming on his face as he feels and sees the gentle press of kisses. “Neither do I, darling. Yet I enjoy treating you.” Comes his honest answer.

And for all the golden threads Danta has blossomed in the shadowed veins of the butcher’s heart, wild and untamed, they suddenly start to freeze awkwardly in place when the request is made. Luckily for the Theocrat, the smile on Asta’s face remains small and soft as before, if not contemplative. Even if internally, there’s a moment of deep seated realizations.

He can handle it. (Maybe). He can certainly try. And he should, because if he had to go for so long in between letting his most inherent shift out into the open now and then, he’d probably lose his mind. And for it, the butcher feels selfish — because at least when they hadn’t shared a room, he’d been able to become one of those gore crows and enjoy Moira’s company.

Yet another being he hasn’t seen in a while, all for his comfort.

The only thing that betrays his answer and the casualness of how he’s settled, is the way he swallows before he nods. “Of course, darling.” The agreement is easy, especially with the awkward feeling of sorrow that burrows in amongst the gilded strings. He has plenty of time to prepare, doesn’t he? “Perhaps Moira should come as well?” He suggests, shifting to straighten up in the chair a touch, pulling his mahogany gaze back toward himself before he runs a hand through it, debating. “Would you prefer horns or no horns?” He asks gently, flitting his gaze back toward the Maverick’s reflection.

Astaroth

come a little closer

idealism sits in prison
chivalry fell on his sword

"Sorry," Danta says instantly, as if anticipating those external stressors that will tell him everything he needs to about his misstep, even as Asta remains as calm and relaxed as ever. (That's just more suspicious, in Danta's opinion). "I can just... I'll head out tomorrow and-- wait, what?" Brows flinching together, it takes the Maverick a second to remember he's supposed to be doing something, and he clears his throat quietly and adjusts to be able to run the comb gently through Asta's hair.

"Are you sure? I can just take her out myself, we'll only be gone for an hour or two." Which, no, isn't the day off holed up inside that they had planned, but suddenly the Maverick is keen to rectify what he's clearly seeing as a misstep. "Oh, uh... leave them for now. You can bring them back towards the end," he says of his horns, trying to force his mind to concentrate on the task at hand now.

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?

“No.” Astaroth decides then and there that he needs to be better. He has to at least try. Because for all of the ways Danta has conceded to him, he feels as if he’s done absolutely nothing in return except offer more scars (of a different kind, at least, but permanent reminders nonetheless). “I am positive, darling.” He reiterates, letting his gaze flit back up to his sunshine lover in the reflection of the large mirror, past the hand that tugs at a lock of midnight hair that would likely be a bang of some sort should he have worn his hair differently.

He only lets go when the comb runs through his hair and he straightens to make it easier, even as his gaze drifts from the reflection of Danta and the way things feel suddenly so off. Like Danta would wish to continue to bury his own needs to continue to make the day more comfortable for the butcher, and gods if it doesn’t open that yawning pit within him. Even the tone of his lover’s voice is different, tentative, as if he’s thousands of miles away from the fact that he’s about to trim his hair.

Horn and tailless the butcher may be, but an Ancient he fully remains as he sparks flame from his fingertips and dances it up Danta’s arm toward his neck and cheek in an affectionate nuzzle while he tugs at the hand with the comb as if to pull him forward. “Come here, love,” it’s a gentle request, one that he doesn’t give his lover too much choice in evading. Once he’s managed to either pull Danta in between his chair and the mirror or to spin in the chair to face him, he lets a crooked and sharp smile bloom on his face as he stuffs any and all anxieties that have sparked, down into the tarry pit of his soul. “It would be good for me. And I need you to be at your perfectly stunning, confident self if you intend to cut my hair.” His hornless head angles as he lets his smile twist more genuine, pointed up at the blonde, hoping to be as soothing as can be.

Astaroth

come a little closer

idealism sits in prison
chivalry fell on his sword

"Okay." Danta nods, though he still seems strangely subdued as he passes the comb through Asta's hair once again, gently ridding it of any snags or loose tangles until he's satisfied. The lick of fire that comes kissing against his bare shoulder and his cheek is enough to have a smile touching to his lips, at least, though it's only a moment later when he's ferried forward, his hand captured in the butcher's.

"Is something wrong?" Of course it's the instant ask, worry flooding through Danta's expression as he gazes down at the other man, at the firelight playing through his dark hair and across his face, ringing his eyes in bands of gold. He doesn't expect to see that sharp, suave smile, or to hear Asta double down on his decision, and before he knows it he's melting forward to drape himself in the butcher's lap, stealing the smile from his lips in a kiss.

"If you're sure," he whispers, holding him close. "And thank you," he adds, pressing another few kisses across his cheek and down the side of his neck, before he finally withdraws and takes a deep breath. "Alright. Let's make you even more devastatingly handsome, shall we?"

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?

As open and honest as the butcher can be, it’s to the question that more guilt becomes suppressed within the confines of the abyss of his heart, as he smiles up genuinely and explains his thoughts. No, there’s nothing wrong. Not for Danta to worry about, anyway. If there’s a good time at all, today is probably the time. His blood lust is sated, he’s gotten enough sleep, and mentally he’s probably the best he’s been in a long while.

Making room for his lover to melt down into him, he winds his arms up and around his face, slipping back into blonde locks and down his shoulders. The smile fades into the kiss, one that the butcher hopes expresses all of his adoration and love into and perhaps a touch of apology. Because he hadn’t even realized. “I am positive.” And he is, immensely so. Even if it’ll spark issues later; he has time right now to prepare.

As the Maverick withdraws, Astaroth’s hands smooth around his sides and up to his chin, thumb brushing along the slight divot he finds against smooth skin. “Lets.” He agrees in a rumbling, playful purr, before he flashes another shark tooth smile and releases the blonde so the haircut can get underway. He straightens up, preparing himself to watch out of pure curiosity, and to distract himself while he prepares mentally for what will come after.

Astaroth

come a little closer

idealism sits in prison
chivalry fell on his sword

Soaking in every touch the butcher has to offer like an addict after a fix, Danta breathes in the scent of smoke and blood and sweetness and finds himself relaxing fully at last, such that when Asta does draw back, it's as if nothing had ever happened. "If that changes, let me know," he says, peppering kisses against his hand wherever it brushes across his skin close enough for his mouth to find it.

With that settled and with the uncertainty in the Maverick's mind replaced with a tentative anticipation - it has been a long time since he got to stretch his wings properly, after all - he slips out of Asta's lap and returns to sit behind him, deft fingers much more confident as they work through the butcher's soft hair. He falls quiet to work, knowing in his mind what he wants to achieve, but opting for smaller cuts at first in case Asta should change his mind.

The soft sound of the scissors soon fills the room, Danta gently tipping the butcher's head down or up as he needs, until he's finally shifting around to his front working on the layers that frame his face.

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?

“Of course, love.” His honey soft voice hums to the soft press of his lover's lips against his wrist. The smile remains, even as he releases the blonde so he can get started. He already can see and feel the confidence that has bloomed and it does wonders to relax the butcher further. His worries are swallowed down, ignored to be dealt with later, because that way he can simply indulge in this moment, in the fingers that comb through his hair, of the sound of the scissors as they cut through inky black hair.

He adjusts however Danta needs him to, easily and without any thought to argue or prevent it; and when he rounds to the front of him to continue the trim, Asta’s gaze focuses on his face, the soft focus and the furrow of a brow as he tries to make sure he gets it precisely right. It’s so horribly domestic and it floods him with a surprising amount of warmth he doesn’t know what to do with. His body does, though, a silent flush of red to his cheeks and the tips of his ears that he can’t hide while Danta’s trimming and framing his face.

Astaroth

come a little closer

idealism sits in prison
chivalry fell on his sword

Luckily for Asta, Danta is much too busy concentrating now to be worried about any shitfuckery at play, though if he's still flushed and bashful by the time the Maverick is finished, he's guaranteed to take full advantage of it. For now, though, he's pulled his chair around so he might be able to sit before the other man, gently turning his face this way and that to make sure his work is neat and even.

"You know," he says, his voice low and amused between them, "of all the things I say I ought to have been doing instead of being Theocrat, perhaps this is The One." Chuckling to himself at the idea of a monstrous Ancient owning a dinky little salon, he sits back at last and carefully tousles Asta's hair in the way he'd usually wear it, before nodding. "Alright, if you wouldn't mind showing me those horns now?" Bouncing his eyebrows at his lover, now he does notice his reddened cheeks, and - so sue him - he's delighted.

Dantalion

I slithered here from Eden
just to sit outside your door