when you're close to me

we thieves and lovers will keep up our urges to sin, to sin
let your desire be simply acquired within, within

A laugh bubbles up from his throat, acknowledging the ‘blizzard’ for what it was. “Child’s play.” He touts, arrogantly, as if he’d gone through worse before (he had) and it was no match to the brutal landscape he’s crafted before them, with no shelter in sight aside from those they built themselves.

But he’s awestruck and stupidly in love so much that he softens immediately with the view and how he curves into Danta to watch it sink low, until familiar constellations overtook the skies — ones that had changed since they had woken. “If you had not shown me the skyships, I would have been horribly lost.” He admits, tearing his gaze away from it to look at Danta with a soft smile.

He’d always used the stars to navigate, and were he attempting to use them to get out of the Climb a year ago he would have been lost.

But the mood grows softer as night overtakes the village and Asta nods, not minding it in the slightest. “I am sure that can be arranged.” He hums, not knowing how exactly the rooms worked, but sure that they could ask for some to be brought up. He’d carefully masked the door to the room into the entrance of another home of the village, so he reluctantly parts from Danta with a grin, stepping over the crunch of snow toward it to open it and have some things brought up.

It’s almost as if they knew, though Asta suspects it has a hand in how cozy Danta and the proprietor were, because after a few moments he’s handed a platter full of food and two bottles of deep red wine. Returning to Danta now, tail flicking lightly, the butcher’s smile brightens as he nods toward the snow block house that was his own. “Shall we settle in, then?” He hums, already planning on shifting his home enough to make it comfier for the both of them.

Astaroth

if you want me all to yourself, then take on the leap

// sun comin' up on a dream come around //

"Wow, rude," Danta drawls, sounding quite a bit like their favourite queen of Torchline for just a second, though the smile that plays across his lips is telling enough. He has no doubt that Asta has seen the sorts of blizzards that make anything the Grounds goes through at Deepfrost seem like little more than a pretty sprinkle of snow.

Looping an arm around the taller man's waist and smirking a touch, he glances up at him, tail flicking in amusement. "Don't say that too loud," he warns. "The version of me who woke you up will be spinning in his grave to know that he could have left you following dead stars for a few seasons."

Blinking a few times to adjust to the starlight in place of the watercolour of sunset, the Maverick reluctantly peels himself away from the man at his side only to see him walk to one of the other houses in this imaginary cannibal village. Only as the door opens to show them the hall outside in the House of Midnight does he remember where they actually are, and it's with a soft chuckle that he steps over to help Asta with the food and drink.

"I can think of nothing I'd like more," he purrs, already uncorking one of the bottles with his teeth, balancing a couple of glasses in his free hand and pouring them both a large measure of the dark liquid.

Dantalion

// one hundred years from the empire now //

we thieves and lovers will keep up our urges to sin, to sin
let your desire be simply acquired within, within

“Darling, the version of you that woke me is already rolling in his grave to see us together at all.” Comes the cocky response, a low chuckle accompanying his path to the door to retrieve their food and drinks. Once it’s secured and he’s handing Danta the glasses and wine, the butcher trails after Danta toward the center of the village again, though he doesn’t stop under the starry sky in the center of everything.

Instead, the butcher opens the door to his home, letting Danta in first before he follows after him, setting the tray down by the still blooming fire in the center. After a few moments of shifting his thoughts, the room changes. The bed at the back becomes larger, softer, not made of a snowpack and dirt but rather the comfort of a lush mattress still lined and adorned with furs and hand woven blankets.

The next to change are the walls of the house, expanding them out a fraction to layer the sides with shelves, adorning them with feathers and charms not unlike their home back at the Grounds. And off to the side of the fireplace there’s room for a small table now, one he plucks the tray up from the floor to set on it, before he’s finally ready to take the glass Danta had poured for him. The fire brings a stifling and comfortable warmth for the Ancients and Asta sips from it lightly, plucking a piece of summer sausage from the plate to nibble at before snagging one for Danta, sidling over to invade his space to offer it. “Is this better?” He asks as mischief glitters in his gaze.

Astaroth

if you want me all to yourself, then take on the leap

// sun comin' up on a dream come around //

Danta opens his mouth to retort before remembering that Asta is absolutely right, and so instead he merely scoffs affectionately at the other man and follows him back into his little snowblock home, already sipping at his wine. Raising his eyebrows as they duck inside and he watches the place morph into something more resembling Asta's creature comforts, the Maverick is left smiling quietly to himself, handing over the other man's glass of wine and accepting the snack in return.

"It was perfectly fine just the way it was," he boasts, hooking an arm around Asta's waist to keep him pinned close now that he's got a hand free. "But yes, this does look a little more like a place you would live, if I have to be honest." And more like a place they could both comfortably hole themselves up for as long as they liked without being bothered.

"Now, I know lately the only thing we've really wanted to do is lay around and sleep," Danta admits with a self-deprecating laugh, "and so if that's what you'd like to spend our evening here doing, you know I won't complain. But do you have any other preferences, before I commit to crawling into that bed over there?"

Dantalion

// one hundred years from the empire now //

we thieves and lovers will keep up our urges to sin, to sin
let your desire be simply acquired within, within

Snorting, the butcher shrugs a shoulder before he takes a sip and tries not to completely melt into Danta’s warm embrace. “I lived here long enough that I think given the opportunity, might as well make it comfortable.” He touts, swapping the hand holding the glass to drape it over Danta’s shoulders.

Dark eyes watch his lover as he lists out the options of what they could do, but given that it’s Danta’s birthday, he’s more than happy to let him make the decisions. If he wanted to sleep all night and day and never leave their comfortable bed, well, he wouldn’t complain. But there is something he has to do first.

So he leans in to press a kiss to Danta’s cheek then his lips, before he flashes a grin full of mischief. “Well.. Seeing as it is your birthday, I do have something else you may be interested in?” Tugging Danta with him so he doesn’t have to pry himself away, his tail snakes out toward one of the bags they’d brought, dragging it toward the bed where Danta would be able to open it if he wanted to.

“Happy birthday, darling. And thank you for putting up with me the last few weeks.” Inside, and perfectly wrapped as always, are a variety of boxes. The first four are varying tins of tea from the Greatwood, some uniquely flavored with spice and others more floral. Then, beneath them, sit two larger boxes. Within these, the first is a blood red turtleneck sleeveless shirt — thin and with a cut out at the chest in the shape of a starburst pattern. The second, mimicking the first in style, is dark with rectangles oddly cut through the fabric as if it were glitched out.

Astaroth

if you want me all to yourself, then take on the leap

// sun comin' up on a dream come around //

Danta doesn't try not to melt into Asta's touch - in fact, if they stand together for too much longer the butcher is likely going to have to carry him to the bed, such is the way he drapes himself against the other man. "Well, then who am I to deny you that opportunity?" he purrs, sipping again at his wine; just in time for kisses to be welcomed against his cheek and stolen from his lips.

"Mm? My birthday?" His brow furrows and he tilts his head, ferried all too willingly wherever Asta wants to bring him. "I suppose it is. You'll forgive me if it slipped my mind a bit this year." What with the whole void thing and the crow thing, Danta has been a bit occupied since Deepfrost ticked over to Flowerbirth.

But really, he ought to have known that if anyone was going to remember, it would be the man beside him, and the flush of affection that fills him at that thought is one he doesn't try to shove away. "Asta, it is always a pleasure to put up with you," he informs the butcher as he sinks down onto the bed and puts his wine down, if only to free up both hands to open the gifts.

Grinning appreciatively at the boxes of tea and raising his eyebrows, he shakes one at the other man almost threateningly. "Are you sure this wasn't a present for the both of us?" he teases - not that he ever wasn't going to share every cup he can with the butcher. The boxes come next, and Danta's cool blue eyes darken with delight at the sight of the arguably quirky garments he draws out. "You know me so well," he says, almost purring out the words. "Though I would argue that these might also count as a present for you, once I put them on."

Turning to lean in suddenly, stealing a soft, wine-sweet kiss from Asta's mouth, Danta nips affectionately at his lower lip as they part. "Thank you. This is all lovely."

Dantalion

// one hundred years from the empire now //

we thieves and lovers will keep up our urges to sin, to sin
let your desire be simply acquired within, within

Exactly. Who is he to deny him the opportunity to make this room however was more comfortable? The perfect line between Ferox and Astaroth, enough of the Halovian edge to it with the creature comforts that screamed Astaroth. After all, when you grow up sleeping amongst beds made of solid earth and furs, why not indulge in the luxuries of a mattress?

So he settles in, watching as Danta’s brow furrows and for a heartbeat of a second, Astaroth questions whether or not he’d gotten the dates wrong – even if he was sure time and time again that it was around now that Danta had chosen his birthday. But before he has a moment to fully let the panic settle, the confirmation is all he needs to flash that comfortably sharp smile back at his lover. “It has been a lot, darling.” He agrees softly, before he’s drawing quiet to let the Maverick open his gifts, banking in a touch of praise for whether or not it really is always a pleasure to deal with him.

He has half a mind to glance down to the scar he knows sits on Danta’s arm, but refrains in favor for the tins of tea. “The teas in particular are more up your alley, but I will be happy to indulge.” He touts playfully, letting his nose wrinkle with his grin when the shirts come next. A low rumble of a laugh leaves him to hear that it would also be a gift for himself – which… He’s not wrong. “You, in general, are a present for me.” He hums gently, a touch of softness breaking through the cocky arrogance of earlier.

But before he can respond further, he’s cut off with the kiss that’s soft and wine-sweet, and with the nip to his lower lip, the butcher’s arm winds around Danta’s middle a bit tighter, drawing him closer so he doesn’t part too far away. “You’re welcome, love.” Comes the soft purr before he’s leaning back in for another soft and gentle kiss that doesn’t last as long as either of them likely want it to.

He reaches up to cup Danta’s jaw, stroking his thumb along the sharp jut of a cheekbone as he smiles affectionately over at him, scanning his face from the fiery blues to the soft pout of his lips. “I love you, Danta.” It’s a soft admission, one he’s getting bolder with saying more often, lest they forget (how could they?)

Astaroth

if you want me all to yourself, then take on the leap

// sun comin' up on a dream come around //

"You're telling me," Danta agrees, the words almost murmured under his breath. "Here's for it being a lot less for the rest of the season at the very least." Smirking across at Asta, he reaches out to pluck up one of the boxes of tea that does look very much to his taste, inhaling the scent of it deeply and humming his approval. "Mm, I've rarely seen you turn down a cup of tea," he says with a low chuckle and a nod. "Maybe we can have some later. I'm still quite partial to that wine for now."

Unable to respond to the tooth-achingly sweet remark that spills from the butcher's lips, Danta does grumble good-naturedly against the kiss he presses to Asta's mouth, smiling as they part. "You say that now, when we're still catching up on some well deserved rest. You might feel differently about me when I'm back up to my old bullshit."

His laughter is cut short by the second kiss Asta steals from him, not that Danta will ever complain, and he's still trying to chase after the butcher's affections when he parts too soon, only for that soft admission to fill the air, for calloused fingers to cradle his chin. Feeling heat rise into his cheeks in the wake of the butcher's thumb, Danta forces himself not to drop his gaze or to reply with a knee-jerk reaction. Instead, setting down the gifts he still holds, he all but topples forward to drape himself against Asta, arms slung around his shoulders, a leg thrown over his waist, his lips determined to cover him in kisses.

Dantalion

// one hundred years from the empire now //

we thieves and lovers will keep up our urges to sin, to sin
let your desire be simply acquired within, within

Here’s to it being a lot less for the rest of the season, indeed. They’ve earned it, after the tumultuous beginning of the season. And the butcher finds he’d be happy to try the tea out whenever Danta deemed it was time. For now, he’s happily content with the wine, ensuring he’s stolen a sip of his own before placing it in a safe spot to not get knocked over as he returns his affections back to Danta.

He truly doubts he’ll get annoyed with his shenanigans, but he doesn’t have time to respond claiming any differently as he confesses his love and dives in for a second kiss, wine sweet and gentle, pulling away long enough for Danta to set the gifts down and drape against him. A low hum leaves him as his lover presses against him.

His arms wind around his middle, drifting up his back under his shirt, spiderwebbing his fingertips out against his lower back, happily indulging in the kisses Danta lavishes upon him. He tugs Danta further against him until he lays back amongst the soft bed and the furs bunched up beneath him. His hands rise, driving up his back to his shoulder blades, spreading warmth everywhere he touches. Diving back in, he steals a deeper kiss, greedier.

Astaroth

if you want me all to yourself, then take on the leap

// sun comin' up on a dream come around //

With the wine already forgotten, Danta settles atop Asta all too easily, as if he was made to lay right here with the butcher's warm fingers cascading up the length of his back beneath his shirt. Already regretting his choice of leather pants, for their restricted movement if not the way he guarantees they're about to feel about three sizes too small, the Maverick is happy to distract himself against Asta's lips for now.

Feathering his fingers through the other man's dark hair and willing the room to become a good deal hotter - which it does, given the nature of the House of Midnight - when Danta parts to brush his lips across the curve of the butcher's jaw, the air almost ripples with heat. "Bet you never had this in your old home either, mm?" He grins. Not this level of heat and certainly not someone to warm his bed as well - at least not without the intention of eating them afterwards.

Dantalion

// one hundred years from the empire now //

we thieves and lovers will keep up our urges to sin, to sin
let your desire be simply acquired within, within

The fingers that drift in his raven dark hair always soothe a bone deep itch, and if it weren’t for the comfortable press of Danta against him and their deepening kiss, the butcher might have leaned so far into the hands that comb through his hair as a complete and utter distraction of everything else. But he doesn’t, instead allowing the goosebumps to ghost along his neck and the brief bit of his shoulder that can be visible with the shift and press of their clothes as he lays back against the bed.

Heat erupts in the room, sweltering and perfect to the point that Astaroth’s tail curves up and winds around Danta’s leg, keeping him close even as he parts the kiss and peppers them against his bearded jaw. Huffing a soft laugh, the butcher exhales an entirely too dramatic sigh. “Absolutely not.” The butcher responds, almost offended, but the smile on his face gives him away. “I didn’t want to be devoured.” His tone returns to that mixture of Astaroth and Ferox, more relaxed than he typically kept it.

His hands smooth down Danta’s back again, before stilling at the top of the leather pants, fingertips toying with the waistband. “And given that I wasn’t Ancient when I lived here, I may have gotten heatstroke with the heat.” The laugh bubbles out of his chest, vibrating through him and Danta in turn with how they’re pressed together. “It’s perfect, though.”

Astaroth

if you want me all to yourself, then take on the leap

// sun comin' up on a dream come around //

"And here I thought you'd be the one doing the devouring," Danta remarks with a grin, before he recalls the strange, black widow-esque custom within Asta's cannibal village. "Lucky for you, I'm only a visitor to this place. I'll devour you if you want me to, though." With a filthy smile and a bounce of his eyebrows, Danta nibbles at the side of his neck for good measure, before the feel of clever fingers toying at the waistband of his pants has him melting forward automatically.

"Mm, I figured it was only fair to bring a little of The Climb to this very Halovian scene," he purrs, hips grinding down against Asta's a second time, just as the Maverick leans in to silence his lover with his lips. "Gods it feels good to kiss you," he confesses, the words almost mumbled into Asta's mouth.

Dantalion

// one hundred years from the empire now //

we thieves and lovers will keep up our urges to sin, to sin
let your desire be simply acquired within, within

Everywhere else, he was certainly the black widow type. Here, though? It was far more likely growing up that he would be devoured rather than reaching the point where he could return the favor. As for it being lucky that he’s only a visitor to this place, Astaroth snorts into the press of Danta against his neck, the low laugh breaking from his chest, head tilting automatically to give him all the room he required if he wanted to spend more time against his revealed skin.

His fingers continue to toy with the waistband, dragging along the soft and warm pale skin beneath it in slow arcs, ones that pause when Danta grinds his hips down and Asta shivers with a small sound of encouragement. “The perfect cross.” The butcher hums, something poetic popping into his mind of ice and fire, but it doesn’t last as he’s silenced from saying anything more with Danta’s kiss, the muffled admission that pours into his mouth.

It’s like the sweetest wine, and the butcher presses up against him to delve into the press of his kiss. Parting only briefly as his hands move again to only make those leather pants tighter as he dips his hands in beneath them, cupping his lover’s ass. “You feel good.” He counters, lips quirking briefly into the smirk that blooms before he’s arching back up against the Maverick, claiming another chaste kiss before he’s drawing back down against the furs and soft mattress and pulling Danta further down with him, rocking his hips up against him in turn with his own blossoming arousal. Between the heat and the comfort already sparked, the ghost of iron on his tongue, he’s already flushing with heat against his cheeks.

Astaroth

if you want me all to yourself, then take on the leap

// sun comin' up on a dream come around //

"Mm, I couldn't agree more--" Cut off by the hands suddenly down the back of his pants and the press and grind of the other man's body against his own, Danta is heedless to stop the rough moan that Asta's touch drags from his throat. His fingers force their way between them if only so he can unbutton the butcher's shirt, eager to touch and taste more of his bare skin, and already it feels as if he can't quite catch his breath for the impatient need that roars through his veins .

"Do I?" he all but whispers, drawing back just enough to grab at his own shirt and pull it over his head, huffing something that's a mix of frustrated and exquisitely uncomfortable, given the way his erection is caged behind leather and the press of Asta against him. "You can feel a lot more of me before the night is through." Dropping further kisses against the butcher's throat and towards the scars that litter his collarbones, he nevertheless leaves the choice up to his lover.

Dantalion

// one hundred years from the empire now //