burned me up and down

// make me bleed if you need to confirm that it's something i can do //

He apologizes in case it had been too close, inciting some amount of fear or wariness. He knows it wouldn’t be from Danta, but Flora had only just barely scratched the surface back at Frey’s Breath. The kiss to the corner of his mouth where blood lingers for a moment is appreciated, until he has a moment to burn it away, leaving sooty little smears behind against his skin, the scent of smoke sharp as the iron still. “I did. Very much so.” The butcher confirms, flashing Flora a sharp and still red stained smile, glittering in the reflection of the fire Danta has sparked to clean himself up as well.

It's as he finally is grounded that the butcher returns to the chaise with Flora, sinking down onto it beside her and reaching up to cup her cheek gently and appreciatively. “Thank you darling.” Whether it’s for the healing or the softer twist to her smile aimed at him, he doesn’t clarify. Instead, he leans back to peer over at Danta with the softness of his adoration. “I have certainly sobered up.” He murmurs across the way, tail flicking as if to say we should fix that.

As for the healing water, he notices a few moments after that Danta is collecting it, without a need for it any longer. “Oh, Danta darling, Flora healed my cheek.” He wouldn’t say no to drinking some regular water, but as for the healing water? He feels revitalized already. It would be a waste.

Astaroth

// and i'll paint it red //

flora

Flora wrinkles her nose slightly at all the fire suddenly sparking to life. Still, the flame doesn't bother her so much as the heat, with her skin flushed already, her limbs languid with satisfaction. When Asta returns to the chaise, his presence no longer predatory but steady and warm, she tilts her head into his palm with a smile that edges towards adoration and affection.

"Hey," she murmurs, catching his hand in hers before shifting her weight. With the ease of someone who’s now arguably seen the butcher at both his best and worst, Flora twists to lean back against his chest, dragging his arm across her collar bones and holding it there like a tether. Her forehead rests just below his jawline, the steady rhythm of his breath easing her own as she watches Danta stroll across the room—unhurried, naked, and wholly in his element.

At the mention of healing, she lifts her hand and waggles her fingers at the Maverick, a smug little smirk curling across her lips. "I'm very handy," she says sweetly, letting the ring catch the low light with a glittery little flourish.

But as Danta pokes around the bar, Flora lifts her chin slightly. "Back left shelf. Very back. There’s a bottle of whiskey that’s older than me—don’t bother with glasses." A grin flashes over her shoulder at Asta, mischief back in full bloom.

We can't make any promises now can we babe?
But you can make me a drink.

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

// you knew who I was //

"Hm...?" Popping back up from behind the bar with the flask of healing water in hand, Danta playfully rolls his eyes as Flora waggles her ring-clad fingers at him. "Well why didn't you say so?" He huffs, grinning to them both and turning to reach for the whiskey where directed instead. Rifling though the shelves, tail flicking its anticipation, it's with a soft aha that the Maverick retrieves what he's looking for, turning back to find the Doubletake very comfortable indeed with the butcher.

"A boy could get jealous," he remarks, leaning one arm against the bar and taking a long pull from the aged bottle of whiskey, humming his immediate approval from it. "Careful you don't fall asleep there," he adds as a warning to Flora, one that's accompanied by a mischievous wink. "He's very comfortable, and you'll miss the rest of your party."

Granted, he thinks the party they've started in here is much better, Danta sidling out from behind the bar and back to the chaise. Flopping down onto it and shifting to rest his head in Flora's lap, one long leg hooked over the armrest, he offers the bottle up to them.

Dantalion

// with every step that I ran to you //

// make me bleed if you need to confirm that it's something i can do //

“Hey you,” Asta hums softly, voice still hoarse but warming up as he finally has a moment to regain his breath and the comfort of settling into the chaise, her warmth shifting to lean back against him and shift his arm so that he can keep her against his chest. He radiates warmth, a steady pillar as she rests against him and he sees her mischievous grin, a spark of his own lingering in the curve of his own lips.

His dark gaze finds Danta’s grin and subsequent remark while the butcher’s fingertips trace idle patterns into Flora’s shoulder, a certain softness of adoration in his gaze as he watches the Maverick take that long sip from the aged bottle of whiskey. Flora will feel the snort from the butcher at the warning, though, tilting his horned head slightly toward her. “He has done that once or twice.” He murmurs to Flora like it’s a conspiracy, before Danta’s joining them.

He reaches out his free hand to stroke a gentle sweeping pattern up Danta’s chest, before it rises to snag the whiskey and offer it to Flora in case she wishes to have a sip of it first. Whether she does or doesn’t, the bottle is soon lifted to the butcher’s lips in turn, downing a heavy sip of it to wash away the taste of iron still flooding his mouth with a hiss of appreciation for the burn.

Astaroth

// and i'll paint it red //

flora

"Then what are you doing all the way over there, hmm?" Flora purrs the moment Danta so much as suggests jealousy, bouncing her brows in his direction. When he drinks without sharing first, though, she lets out a soft gasp, more scandalized than upset. "Gods, now who's making who jealous?" she mutters now knowing precisely what the Maverick's mouth felt like before nudging Asta with her shoulder and glancing up at him over it, wrinkling her nose with mock offence that doesn’t hide the adoration brimming in her eyes.

As Danta flops back onto the chaise, Flora shifts instinctively, rearranging herself to give him more room before curling her fingers into his blonde hair without hesitation. Her nails slide through the strands as if seeking out tension to soothe, carefully smoothing back the waves around his diamond horns, her movements unhurried and fond. When Asta offers the bottle, she accepts it with a little sigh of appreciation, taking a swig that sends a hot line down her throat and pools low and warm in her stomach.

Outside, the muffled sound of the party rages on; chants of SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS followed by triumphant cheering as someone, surely, made a very poor decision. Flora winces and lifts one hand to look at the smears of blood still drying across her fingers. "Honestly," she murmurs with a sigh, "with the two of you like this, I absolutely could stay here all night." But even she knows that eventually she’ll have to return to her adoring public. Just...in a minute.

"Let’s at least work our way through a bit more of the whiskey first," she suggests with a wicked little grin, settling deeper between Asta’s warmth and Danta’s weight on her lap. "Wouldn't want anyone out there to think anything about what we were doing in here was hurried."

We can't make any promises now can we babe?
But you can make me a drink.

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

// you knew who I was //

"I was playing a good host. You shouldn't have to lift a finger at your own party," Danta huffs, though whatever feathers were at risk of ruffling are promptly smoothed down by the feel of Flora's fingers in his hair and Asta's hand drifting across his chest. "Hey," he adds in response to the butcher's quip - not that it's even remotely a lie - and he settles back as the whiskey goes around and the sound of the party echoes, loud and proud, through the walls and beneath the door.

"Mm, well you can always feel free to come and find us at the end of the night," he quips, the offer an easy one to make given their current positioning, though he does flick his eyes up towards Asta for confirmation that he's in agreement. "The last person who should be leaving alone tonight is you, Flora." Smirking and reaching up to snag the whiskey again, he tilts his head up to carefully enjoy another mouthful without spilling any of it.

"For the record, though, I wouldn't say any of this was hurried so much as it was... passionate. Impatient. Fiery, you might say." He winks.

Dantalion

// with every step that I ran to you //

// make me bleed if you need to confirm that it's something i can do //

Listening to the party rage outside and finding himself quite content to be pinned here beneath Flora and Danta, the butcher sets the bottle down within easy reach of anyone who wants to take a sip. Listening and feeling the gentle vibration of Flora’s voice, the butcher’s head angles enough to press warmly against the side of her head, his dark gaze catching Danta’s own in confirmation. “Danta is right, darling.” Comes the soft hum. “We would be happy to join you tonight after you keep up your appearances.” The smoky stubble of his jaw brushes against the smooth skin of Flora’s cheek as he shifts just enough so that his tail can ground itself against Danta’s leg.

The low chuckle that leaves him to hear the Maverick’s answer is a warm one, one that has his arm tightening against Flora’s collarbones briefly in a soft shift of a hug. “How are you feeling?” He directs his question to her, given that he’d not been fully aware of everything in the throws of their pleasure, but ensuring he checks all the same. His gaze flits over Danta in turn, knowing that if he wasn’t alright he would say as much, but something tells him he enjoyed this adventure very much. He’ll have to show him how much he appreciated Danta keeping him in check later.

But for now he’s very contently trapped against the chaise, pinned beneath two stunning blondes.

Astaroth

// and i'll paint it red //

flora

Flora hums, her lashes fluttering as she imagines the whispers that’ll bloom from this room alone. Not that she’d planned it—none of tonight had been planned—but the image of their party guests racking their brains to guess just what the queen had been doing behind closed doors? That was a reward all its own. (Even if they were all too busy licking salt from throats and cleavage).

As Danta speaks, her gaze drifts downward to meet his, and for a moment the amusement softens into something quieter. She threads her fingers through his hair again, gently carding through the strands as he drinks. "I was gonna spend my last night in my house in Hualani," she admits, her voice low and warm. "Maybe even be pathetic and sleep in Enzo’s old bed before getting evicted."

She tries to smile, and does, after a moment. "But I like to cuddle,”" she adds, a little lighter now. "And I’m not sure the two of you can handle that." Which is, of course, an outrageous lie. The way Asta has coiled around her and Danta has tucked himself across her lap? They’re a blanket fort of affection. But she still smirks, tilting her head just enough to glance up toward the butcher.

When he asks how she’s feeling, the question catches her just slightly. Her eyes flutter half-closed as she rests her temple more firmly against his shoulder, her thumb drawing slow, idle circles across Danta’s temple. "I’ve never actually...done that before," she murmurs. "More than one person, I mean." Biting at the inside of her cheek, Flora's smile grows a touch secretive and sly. "But as far as fantasies go? You certainly didn't leave me wanting."

We can't make any promises now can we babe?
But you can make me a drink.

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

// you knew who I was //

"Ew, no," Danta barks out, instantly rejecting the idea of Flora being pathetic at any point during her last night in Haulani. Subtly tilting his head into the fingers that card through his hair, his eyes close to further enjoy it even as he listens to the ongoing conversation. "Flora, you have no idea what you're in for," he adds with a grin; when it comes to cuddling, he's not sure whether the Doubletake can handle them, especially after a night of drinking and debauchery.

"It's settled, then. You come find us when you're ready to leave, and we'll make sure you spend the night feeling on top of the world, whatever house it's in." Be it her old place in Haulani, her boat, or the room where they're staying for their time in Torchline.

Blinking his eyes back open as the conversation turns to everything they'd just done for and to each other, Danta's crooked smile is unmistakeably proud. "Having been tangled in many sets of limbs in my time, I can say that I would never have known." He purrs. "You're a natural."

Dantalion

// with every step that I ran to you //

// make me bleed if you need to confirm that it's something i can do //

Gaze dancing between the way Flora’s fingers thread through Danta’s hair and the woman herself, the butcher also is keen to reject the idea of her being alone. But his lover says it better than he does, and his arm tightens a fraction in a small gentle squeeze before the pattern traces continue on the jut of her shoulder. “I shall warn you now, we run hot, darling.” Comes the soft hum, meeting her gaze as she responds to him. His own is warm, if not a touch tired. And it parts from her only to down another generous sip of the whiskey.

Her temple presses against his shoulder and his head tilts down to press his cheek to her forehead. Her admission is one that Asta can share, but it’s Danta’s confirmation that Flora was a natural that the butcher’s rumble of agreement vibrates in his throat before he can verbalize it. “It was my first, too, so you are in good company.” He purrs in the soft whisper of conspiracy and mischief, the whiskey smoke of his breath sweet in comparison. “But you did beautifully in my own limited experience.” He flashes her the too sharp smile, clear of blood and pale as ivory again, agreeing with Danta’s sentiment tenfold, enough that his gaze drops down to his lover with warmth and admiration too.

Maybe one day he’d have a better hold of his urges. But for now, she was fine and Danta didn’t need any healing, so all in all the butcher finds it to be a success. A success that entirely banked on Danta keeping Asta’s leash held tight.

Astaroth

// and i'll paint it red //

flora

Flora lets out a content little hum at the warmth pressed against either side of her, utterly unbothered by the heat. "Mmm, well," she murmurs, voice rich with affection. "I’ve got a dragon to help keep me cool." Her fingers massage softly against Danta’s temple, her smile audible in her tone. "As long as my house doesn’t burn down, I can handle your oven-ass body temperatures." (That is, until 2am when she's drowning in sweat beneath a pile of limbs—but that’s a problem for future Flora.)

But then Asta speaks—and what he says has her blinking once before her brows lift in mild surprise. "Wait, really?" She turns just enough to glance down at Danta for confirmation, her expression clearly skeptical and thoroughly intrigued. "You two are so well-oiled," she accuses lightly, "I assumed this was just...like...a Tuesday for you."

Her head tips back to rest once more against Asta’s shoulder, and her voice softens to something sweeter. "By which I mean you performed fantastically too."

Still, as the sounds of the party bleed through—cheers, distant glass breaking, someone yelling about winning a bet—Flora sighs and slowly starts to untangle herself. "Alright," she groans, melodramatic, "we should get cleaned up before someone comes looking." Not that the trio of them didn't paint an exquisite portrait of sin and satisfaction just as they were.

Padding toward the bar, she gathers a cloth and dips it into the canal water nearby, wiping the blood from her hand with care before stepping into her underwear and shorts, snugging them over her hips. Shirtless and unhurried, she picks up her corset and twirls it around one finger as she saunters back toward the couch. "Alright, gentlemen," she purrs, "would one of you be so kind?"

We can't make any promises now can we babe?
But you can make me a drink.

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

// you knew who I was //

It's a good thing that Flora makes the decision to get up when she does, because with her fingers gently massaging against his temples and playing through his hair, Danta is in real danger of drifting off into a nap. "Time will tell, mm?" He grins, quite looking forward to seeing how she handles their oven-ass temperatures, especially when they're tangled up with her in their preferred way of sleeping.

Blinking up at her as she gazes to him for confirmation about Asta, the Maverick offers a small, proud little smile and a nod. "I just like watching him work," he purrs, winking at the butcher. "Makes it easier to bend myself whichever way you both need." As he's happily demonstrated just now, in fact.

With an equally as heavy sigh, Danta reluctantly rolls himself to sit up to let Flora extract herself, watching appreciatively as she cleans up and wiggles her way back into her shorts. It gives him the chance to lean in and brush his lips across Asta's cheek, nosing into his dark hair in a silent question as to whether he's truly alright.

Drawing away at last, the Maverick works on pulling his jeans back on and figuring out which holes in his macrame shirt at the ones for his head and arms. "Oh, I volunteer our resident cannibal for that honour," he quips, gesturing to her corset. "You won't thank me for trying, but Asta is very good at it."

Dantalion

// with every step that I ran to you //

// make me bleed if you need to confirm that it's something i can do //

Danta answers the thought that blooms in Asta’s head, wondering just how much work Spice would have in her future to keep Flora cool, without freezing a part of them to stone. But her surprise is equally as amusing as it is truthful, his dark gaze slipping down to peer at Danta over Flora’s shoulder just as she seeks out the confirmation. Danta’s response sparks a snort from the butcher. “Thank you, darling.” Comes the soft hum to Flora’s sweet voice.

He settles for a few moments longer like that, drinking in the warmth and letting the alcohol flood through him, until Flora begins to move – untangling herself from them. His arm immediately moves from keeping her caught against his chest with a parting gentle flare of his fingers, and when Danta replaces her momentarily to check in with him, he’s all too pleased with the constant checks that he angles his head toward Danta, pressing a series of gentle kisses to his own cheek, ear, and neck. A silent confirmation that he’s fine, but a small whisper of “I will need to hunt in the morning,” that might accentuate why he’d been so intense.

Pulling away and watching as Danta pulls his clothes on, Asta wastes little time in standing as well – feeling his shoulders pop as he rolls them out, snagging his own clothes to slip on with much more ease than he would otherwise have if he had his full get up. Suddenly glad for the minimalist waistcoat he wears, he perks up immediately to the corset, already in motion before Danta volunteers him – flashing a sharp grin over his shoulder to his lover in confirmation.

Snagging the corset from her and standing behind her, he slips it gently onto her skin, hovering over her shoulder as he gets the laces even in the top so that it wouldn’t be lopsided at the base. “He whines the whole time, too.” He touts playfully, shooting a wink to Danta before his warm fingers make deft work of her corset, tying it up beautifully.

"There, how is that?" He hums, pulling away and raking a hand through his hair to place it back to mostly perfect, surveying his work.

Astaroth

// and i'll paint it red //

flora

Flora hums in agreement, her grin sharp as she tips her chin toward Danta. "I like watching him work too," she says, more purr than statement, her gaze drifting toward the butcher with unmistakable fondness. "Wonder if I’ll get the chance again..." she adds, soft and thoughtful, letting the question hang in the air like incense.

Then she twists to face Asta, raising her arms slightly as she lets the corset settle into place. Her skin’s still warm from their bodies, her curls wild around her shoulders, and when his fingers begin working the laces, her eyes flutter shut for just a moment. The pressure, the intimacy, the easy way his hands know what to do—it has her smiling softly before she even speaks. "Perfect," she says over her shoulder, voice thick with contentment.

One last glance, one last lingering look at the room—the half-drunk bottle of whiskey, the tangled cushions, the stolen quiet in the chaos of the party—before Flora waggles her fingers at both of them. "Gonna slip to the bathroom, make myself presentable," she drawls, already moving toward the door. "I'll come find you at the end of the night?"

And with a final wink, she waits for them to follow before slipping back into the buzz and roar of the party, the door clicking shut behind her.

~FIN

We can't make any promises now can we babe?
But you can make me a drink.

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!