[SE] hold my wood

// but i'm weak, and what's wrong with that? //

"Mm, don't tell anyone else," Danta quips with a grin; being a lifesaver goes against the fearsome image he's (sort of) tried to build. Nodding after the butcher as he goes to fetch them some wine, the Maverick can't help the way his smile softens a touch to see Asta able to meander between the workers and the bartender again as if the past season had never happened. For all that he's helplessly attracted to the other man when he's at his possessive and hormonal worst, it's very much the exception to the rule.

A what? is locked and loaded on his tongue as Asta returns, but he's kind enough to explain the flavour of the wine, prompting a very ready nod from Danta. "A connosieur, as usual," he purrs, unbuttoning his coat properly and ushering them upstairs where the noise of the Dusklight will fade to a faint and thrumming heartbeat.

"And you brought snacks," he adds, raising his eyebrows. "Be still my heart." Shrugging out of his coat as they head up the stairs, he's prompt in his unlocking of their door, holding it open so the butcher can sweep inside and free up his hands.

Dantalion

// boy oh boy I love it when I fall for that //

// And they glow, with the help of Lucifer Yellow //

Perhaps he should have clarified, the fact that he’s fairly confident Danta is only a lifesaver when it comes to him – something he’s quite proud of and certainly covets. So rather than comment or be more specific, he simply shoots his fiancé a sharp smile before slipping away to snag the wine and snacks. And with both of them in hand, he returns to his side as Danta continues to unbutton his coat and take the lead upstairs, and Asta has half a mind to wonder whether or not Danta will find a way out of all of his clothes by the time they reach the top step.

He stops at his coat, though, to hold the door open for the butcher to swan in and set the wine down and the plate of snacks – taking the moment to shed out of his own coat, hanging it up with all of the care for his things that he hadn’t had last season. He even goes so far as to roll up the sleeves of his turtleneck. “It felt pertinent after all of that hard work, wouldn’t you agree?” He comments belatedly, readjusting the bracelet on his arm before he’s snagging a piece of the prosciutto wrapped cheese and slipping toward Danta to offer it out to him. "We must keep our strength in these cold times." His voice drops with the joke as it slips past his lips.

Then, once his hand is free, he cups his cheek gently with an adoring smile, his thumb stroking along that handsomely defined cheekbone before he withdraws to snag two glasses for the wine and raises the flame a bit higher in the fireplace.

Astaroth

// I had it, concerning madness, sink into satin, focus on the static //

// but i'm weak, and what's wrong with that? //

"Ugh, we did work hard, didn't we," Danta agrees with a groan as he waits for Asta to swan into the room, the Maverick clicking the door shut and locking it behind him to seal themselves away for the rest of the afternoon. He's got just enough time to drape his own coat around the dressmaker's mannequin where it usually lives when the other man is approaching him with a snack in hand, Danta's tail flicking its affection as he leans in to accept it between his teeth.

"Mm, you joke, but I bet if we'd tried to do that after the sun went down we really would've been feeling the cold," he says, swallowing the bite and leaning shamelessly into the hand at his cheek. "Now, I think someone said something about a fire bath?" Smirking, Danta adds his own scorch magic to the fire Asta coaxes up in the hearth, and between them it isn't long before it's positively blazing, white hot and pouring heat out at them even from across the room.

"Wine first, obviously. But then your flames await."

Dantalion

// boy oh boy I love it when I fall for that //

// And they glow, with the help of Lucifer Yellow //

“Far harder than I had intended.” He drawls playfully – because while yes, it was to better the region and the Dusklight in particular, Asta is still tired from everything of the previous season and it had felt like it took twice the effort that it might have in Flowerbirth. Though, perhaps part of that was due to the blizzard still raging outside.

Either way, Danta accepts the snack and Asta cradles his cheek with affection, eyes half lidded in appreciation for the way he tilts his head into the touch. “I would have actually been grey.” He poses, the drama slipping past his lips as his dark brows raise as if to prove the point. But the hands that soon cradle the empty glasses are turning pinker from the pale shade it had been previously and with the cork easily popped from well practiced motions, the butcher is pouring them glasses. “I most certainly did mention something about a fire bath.” Proudly boasting to take the credit for it, he turns back to invade Danta’s space to hand him the glass of wine.

Taking a sip from it, the pepper notes spark in little bits of spice on his tongue that he hums a content sound to, even as he studies his fiance’s face to see his thoughts on the drink of choice. “Perhaps one of these days we can have an actual pit in the room rather than folding ourselves into our fireplace.” Perhaps a fire pit on the mezzanine where they can peer down over all they own from the comfort of their own mini flame, an aesthetic of the volcano Danta has threatened plopping in the middle of the Grounds.

Astaroth

// I had it, concerning madness, sink into satin, focus on the static //

// but i'm weak, and what's wrong with that? //

Danta's thoughts on the wine in question can be summarised in the way he tips his glass back and empties it in one gulp, feeling the rich fire of it warm down the length of his throat to settle in his chest. Sighing out his approval and raising his eyebrows at Asta, he holds his glass out for an immediate refill - another indication that he had enjoyed the vintage. "Mm, that's right. I did promise to kiss your grey fingertips all better, didn't I?" he drawls. "That might have to wait until we're in the fire, because as long as you keep giving me wine I'm going to keep drinking it."

He unlaces and kicks off his boots as he waits for said refill, and has half pulled his sweater over his head when he hears Asta's suggestion of a fire pit, his gasp muffled in the fabric. "That is a great idea," he tells him, strugging to escape the sweater and beaming at the other man when his head finally pops out of it. "We could even get a cover for it, like one of those futon tables, and sit with our feet in the fire while I drink and you do all your weird bone crafts."

Dantalion

// boy oh boy I love it when I fall for that //

// And they glow, with the help of Lucifer Yellow //

He really should have expected the gulp of wine rather than the taste, knowing his fiancé, but the warmth of which the laugh leaves him as the empty glass is extended toward him with the fingers of left behind wine dripping back into the glass has Asta deciding to think fuck it and if Danta was speed running getting wine tipsy, the butcher might as well join him. “Well, darling, if you keep drinking it like that I may as well bring the whole bottle.” He muses, lifting the glass and hiding the smirk behind the rim of it as he, too, downs the rest of his glass.

He does withdraw, though, returning to the bottle of wine and sets the glasses down. He snags a bite of the meat and cheese for himself, snagging the bottle of wine by its neck as he turns back to his fiancé whom appears to have become some kind of sweater cloth monster. Amusement flickers briefly as he devours the snack while Danta struggles, until his golden head pops out of the sweater and the beaming smile that meets him makes all the little chaos that much more worth it for him and amusing. “That sounds perfect. Perhaps if I am lucky enough I may be able to find a bone big enough to craft it out of.” He suggests, stepping the final little distance to help shed Danta of the rest of his clothes, take a swig of the wine from the bottle itself, and hands it off to him so that he might be able to rid himself of the turtleneck and pants and thick soled boots.

“And I do hope you mean weird in a good way, mi amor.” He comments, the roguish smirk of amusement is aimed at his fiancé briefly before he’s slipping out of his sweater with practiced care. He obviously doesn't care whether Danta does find them weird, given that he'd benefitted from such crafts in multiple ways.

Astaroth

// I had it, concerning madness, sink into satin, focus on the static //

// but i'm weak, and what's wrong with that? //

"Well I figured if the fire is that hot then the wine would evaporate or the glass would shatter if we brought it with us," Danta says, managing to sound both audacious and entirely reasonable at the same time. "So if we carry it into the fire because we drank it, we're actually keeping it safe." So there, he might have added, but at that moment Asta is helping him out of the rest of his clothes and he's too busy mumbling his thanks to continue being a shithead.

Accepting the bottle to take a long swig from it as well, his eyes widen with glee at the other man's idea for the firepit cover. "Oh, I bet one of those bones we saw in Hak Etme would do it," he says, lowering the bottle and ruffling his hair back from his face. "And of course I meant it in a good way. You're very skilled at weird bone crafts, you know." Winking and taking another long drink from the bottle before handing it back, Danta finally makes a beeline for the fire.

Slouching into the hearth wearing nothing but his scars, he immediately seems to relax, sprawling back and stretching in the embers, wreathed in flame.

Dantalion

// boy oh boy I love it when I fall for that //

// And they glow, with the help of Lucifer Yellow //

“Oh, I see.” The butcher drawls with all the dramatics of someone who could have been an actor in another life. “You make a valid point.” He murmurs as he starts to shed Danta from his clothes and only when he’s completely free does Asta swap who holds the bottle as the wine starts to warm him internally and he begins to shed himself of all of his own clothes.

This takes a bit longer of time than Danta’s did, with each article of clothing folded and set aside. “Gods those were such beautiful bones. And I am quite skilled, thank you.” His tone is nearly dreamy with the thought of it and none of the logistics behind how exactly he’d get it home. Regardless, that’s a thought for later, because as Asta joins Danta in the wearing nothing but their scars (and his trauma bracelet), the butcher approaches the fireplace with eyes only for his fiancé.

He doesn’t join him just yet, but simply admires the way the fire licks at each curve and sharp point of the Maverick’s body, the way it embraces him wholly like he’s the king of the embers. Asta supposes he is, born from the chaos, blood, and fire as he is, but the way it molds and plays around his body and illuminates the diamond horns in a brilliant display of rainbow hues almost has his breath caught in his throat – stunning him enough that he has to remember himself and set the bottle of wine down off to the side to not heat it up too much.

And only then does the butcher join the Maverick in the hearth, draping over him like a blanket to greet the flames and the absolute heat that’s already absorbed in his fiance’s body like he's trying to steal it from him.

Astaroth

// I had it, concerning madness, sink into satin, focus on the static //

// but i'm weak, and what's wrong with that? //

"I'd like that embroidered on a doily or something," Danta says, all fangs and cheer from within the embers. It isn't often that he's told he has a valid point, and it feels all the more special to be told as much by his fiance. Nestling deeper into the embers as if to allow the hottest parts of the fire to sink into his skin, he hums quiet agreement to Asta's point about the bones. "I bet if we went back as dragons we could pick a few of the bigger pieces up to get them back here," he says, untintentionally answering the other man's thoughts.

Only after a few seconds when Asta doesn't come to join him does Danta prop himself up on his elbows to arch an eyebrow out at the other man. He's about to ask what the hold-up is when he catches the surreptitious admiration in the butcher's expression; the fire hides the sudden flush to his cheeks, at least, but nothing can help the way he's suddenly speechless.

Luckily his lover is descending upon him by then, Danta flopping back again and immediately winding his arms around him and nosing a kiss in against his throat. "This more like it," he mumbles.

Dantalion

// boy oh boy I love it when I fall for that //

// And they glow, with the help of Lucifer Yellow //

“Ooh, two valid points.” The butcher practically purrs as Danta answers the question he’d let start to slip in his mind. It’s about that time that he’s admiring his fiancé and the way the fire molds around him before he actually manages to join him, quietly grateful Danta doesn’t have a quip about the pause before indulging in the flames along with him.

The fire tugs at the tension in his shoulders and his back, smoothed out only by Danta’s arms as they wind around him and the kiss is pressed against his throat. The butcher nuzzles in as the crackling flame wraps around him, too, sinking heat into the butcher’s body like it was breathing life into him. The mumble is met with Asta’s head tilting slightly, enough to press a kiss to the crown of his head.

He exhales softly, slowly in relief. “You are beautiful, darling.” He murmurs quietly, bullying his way to whisper the sweet nothing into the Maverick’s ear. “And I am quite the lucky man to get to call you mine.” Bolstered by the wine in his stomach and the relief of stress in his body and the way that Danta is utterly perfect, the butcher might continue to go on unless Danta shuts him up first.

Astaroth

// I had it, concerning madness, sink into satin, focus on the static //

// but i'm weak, and what's wrong with that? //

Carefully drawing up his glamour so as not to nick the other man with the sharp diamond of his horns, Danta huffs a laugh out against Asta's neck to hear that he's now the proud owner of two valid points. "We can head out there before Longnight," he offers, though the lazy tone of his voice suggests that neither of them might make it that far out of the Grounds for anything more than drinking and resting. Bone hauls might need to wait until Flowerbirth.

Relaxing under the heat and weight of the butcher, his fingers have already begun to sketch absent lines down the length of Asta's back when he leans in, the Maverick raising an eyebrow only to find himself hit point blank with the other man's affections. "Enough," he hisses, as affectionate as he is flustered, shifting just enough to be able to glare playfully up at Asta. "I'm already marrying you. You don't have to try to win me over," he says, smirking.

Dantalion

// boy oh boy I love it when I fall for that //

// And they glow, with the help of Lucifer Yellow //

“Mm, well, I could be convinced to wait until Flowerbirth just to ensure we do not become gargoyles.” The butcher points out, equally as lazy and not intending on making that trek so quickly. Not with the state of his exhaustion and how that might prove difficult for him to remain awake for the rest of Longnight, especially if they’re to be partying in Torchline like they had last year.

Those thoughts vanish for the sheer attention he pours onto the Maverick, warm and appreciative and shifting only just as Danta makes it so he can glare up at him. He’s met with the shark-tooth smile tugging at the butcher’s face as he gets a better view of his inferno king. “I am reminding you, darling.” He murmurs, but with the readjustment of their space it absolutely provides enough room for the butcher to dive in and steal any snarky response that will likely come back to him with the flame touched heat of his lips in the kiss. It’s gentler than much of last season, though no less indulgent or greedy.

Astaroth

// I had it, concerning madness, sink into satin, focus on the static //

// but i'm weak, and what's wrong with that? //

"Mm, perhaps Flowerbirth then," Danta agrees without even a flicker of argument, committing the plan to a memory that may or may not hold up when it counts. "Oh, speaking of the desert though, apparently that rancher in King's End who hosted the rodeo - Bolt or Jolt or something - she's looking to rule the place. No idea what she's gonna make of it, but Flora doesn't like her, so you need to be a bastard like you were at her birthday."

His tone suggests that this is a matter already very much settled between he and Flora (it is), and so when Asta leans in to try to steal his lips and his attention, Danta goes more than willingly. Warm fingers starburst across the other man's back, ceasing their idle affections to play a more active part in expressing his desire for the butcher. Whether or not they can be bothered to do more than just make out is irrelevant for Danta, the Maverick leaning up as if to somehow get closer than he is, nipping playfully at Asta's bottom lip.

"Consider me reminded," he purrs.

Dantalion

// boy oh boy I love it when I fall for that //

// And they glow, with the help of Lucifer Yellow //

Listening to the information Danta has accrued from Colt – a face he remembers form the birthday party as Danta speaks further, alongside the bits and pieces of her at the rodeo she’d put on time and time again, Asta can’t help the way the sharp smile grows a touch more ghoulish with the instruction. He’s all too pleased to be told what’s expected of him in this instance, and with it the butcher purrs his own little answer. “I can most certainly be a bastard.” The butcher manages before he’s descending and claiming a kiss.

He nuzzles in, blanketing him even more as the flame licks against their cheeks, the nip to his bottom lip one that has a huff of a hot hum leaving him when Danta speaks. “Good.” He murmurs, content to make out and indulge in this space, unsure whether or not he’d be able to manage anything else as his body starts to relax. His arms wind around him and keep him close, withdrawing with a few kisses peppered to his jaw and cheek and still providing affections in how he rakes his fingers through Danta’s hair, dragging it back and out of his face until his hand can rest against the nape of his neck, massaging little motions into the soft skin there.

“Is there anything else that has happened recently I should be made aware of? Now that I can actually focus?” He snorts, the firelight filling his eyes with hues of dark liquid gold.

Astaroth

// I had it, concerning madness, sink into satin, focus on the static //