somewhere in the between

// day breaks sorrow //

Carefully collecting himself over the last couple of days to ensure that his new magic doesn’t slip – that he doesn’t fall into old habits – the butcher has finally gotten everything in order for the date night he and Danta had planned. So it’s with their room adjusted, furniture moved out of the way to make a little ballroom area, fires illuminating candles and the fireplace to brighten the space, even if the sun still shone through the sheer curtains of the window.

He'd already spent the morning snagging coffee for Danta and tea for himself, the attire he’d figured would be more comfortable for Danta to be able to move in – courtesy of his favorite tailor, that he stands here with an easy smile and a glimmer of excitement in his gaze as he holds up the clothes, showing them off to Danta (and would you believe it? They almost match his own current attire perfectly). “It is different from the one you wore at the Midwinter Ball. It should allocate for more flexibility.” He says matter of factly, pointing to the different kind of boning that lines the handsome corset, soft silken laces that are loose and hanging so as to be slipped on. The fabric itself is a slate grey with hues of gold and orange, detailed threads crafting an almost lace-like appearance amongst the dark grey.

Astaroth

// and i still feel the edge of this cold knife //

you were automatic and as hollow as the 'O' in god

Oblivious to his lover's new magic, Danta has spent most of the morning thus far doing his very best not to ruin things by being his usually chaotic self. He helps to move the furniture out of the way, ensures the candles are away from anything particularly flammable, drinks his coffee without complaint and has spent the past few minutes showering. Only as he emerges, hair already drying in soft waves about his face, a towel around his hips, does he see the corset, and the first little hint of reluctance twitches in the smile he conjures.

"I see," he says, clearing his throat and rolling his shoulders before schooling himself into acquiescence. "Well, we all know I'm nothing if not flexible." In body if not in attitude, but for today he's willing to put himself into Asta's more than capable hands. "Alright - I suppose we'd better get me into this, hadn't we? I hear that ballroom dancing with my dick out is somewhat frowned upon in proper social circles."

Dantalion

// day breaks sorrow //

He does realize that it’s likely very difficult for Danta to be as calm and collected as he has been – but that’s why there’s a gift waiting for all of the ways his lover will put up with him for the night. His dark gaze scans the freshly showered skin of the Maverick, the damp but drying waves of golden hair as he hoists the corset and explains.

It’s all the acceptance he needs, stepping forward to get closer to him so that he might be able to slip the corset over his skin, he pauses at the last second to lean in and steal a kiss, withdrawing with a bright chuckle. “It is incredibly frowned upon, love.” He informs him, his brows bouncing in a playful manner. “It is important to keep how well endowed you are a secret, rather than show the entirety of society.” He tacks on with a wink, before he’s helping Danta’s arms and head slip through the corset, sliding the soft fabric down to rest at his chest, the cuts of the corset matching the sharp jut of his hips perfectly. His hand is warm where he presses it against Danta’s chest and slides to his back, reaching for the silk laces to start situating them evenly.

"Will you hold this here?" He asks, his voice a soft hum at his lover's jeweled ear. The hand at his chest keeping it in the correct spot wiggles a bit to help him understand just what he's asking him to hold.

Astaroth

// and i still feel the edge of this cold knife //

you were automatic and as hollow as the 'O' in god

Slipping off the towel (and folding it, and hanging it on the back of a chair) as Asta approaches, Danta lets a few wisps of flame jump across his bare skin to ensure he's completely dry before they die away again, leaving him quiet and still and obedient before the other man. "See? I knew I had some manners to know that much," he says, the rest of his response stolen by the kiss the butcher presses to his lips.

His ah, I see! is conveyed in the raising of his brows, at least, and it's with far too devilish a smirk for polite company that he allows himself to be adjusted however Asta pleases to get into the offered garment. All of a sudden, though, he feels as if he's standing on the step at the tailor's all over again, except the intimacy between he and Asta is enough for him to feel every touch and adjustment like a spark jumping across his skin. Shivering involuntarily as he feels the butcher's breath tickle against his ear, Danta manages a gentle nod and slips his hand up to press against the fabric, holding it in place.

"Like this?" he asks, tail curling at his heels and utterly betraying his enjoyment.

Dantalion

// day breaks sorrow //

“You do have manners, darling.” It’s just whether or not Danta acted upon them that made the whole difference. But he leaves that unsaid as he slips the garment into place, the fabric soft and smooth — light in terms of weight and surprisingly breathable. And the boning that would soon snug up against his lover’s curves, feel more flexible and gentler than the last one had been.

He takes note of the stark change despite Danta’s attempts to hide them, and it’s with a hidden smile that he presses a kiss to Danta’s neck, over the healing sharkbite bruises he’d given him. “Just like that.” He purrs, clearly delighted as his fingertips skate across old scars on his lover’s back, situating the ribbon so it’s centered, before he starts to tighten it.

Unlike Kiada’s last fight with the Maverick over this attire, the butcher is gentler and matter-of-fact. He’s much more confident in the way he pulls the laces, tightening them enough to cut the harshest, most attractive figure, but still allocating a small amount more room to breathe. His hands trail down Danta’s spine, until just above the base of the tail that betrays his enjoyment, and if his fingers linger as they tie them, he won’t ever admit it.

“Do you mind if I am indulgent?” He asks over his lover’s shoulder, rounding to face him and reach into the carefully hidden collection of goodies for the attire he’s picked out. The sound of metal clinks against something more organic while Asta’s eyes linger on Danta’s face, a dark hue of desire sparking there with the sight of his lover in nothing but the beautiful corset.

Astaroth

// and i still feel the edge of this cold knife //

you were automatic and as hollow as the 'O' in god

"Ah, now you're just flattering me," Danta says with a quiet huff of laughter, though it's true that he's doing his absolute best to use all of those manners here and now, however difficult it might be to just get dressed when they're like this. Still, he can already tell from the feel of the fabric and boning gliding against his skin and flexing against his ribs that this will be a more enjoyable experience - and the lack of Kiada's knee in his back is certainly a step up as well.

Still, it's with his breath hitching softly at the sudden feel of warm lips against the side of his neck that Danta does his best to keep still - and to keep his hand flat against the front of the corset to avoid messing things up. "Whose corsets did you used to die, back in the day?" he wonders idly, able to feel the confident movements of the other mans hands against the ribbons tightening at his back.

Straightening automatically as the garment is tightened and tied off, Danta is left feeling as if his posture matches Asta's, taking a few breaths before seeming satisfied that he's not going to be at risk of fainting. "Hm? By all means. When have I ever denied you?" He smirks.

Dantalion

// day breaks sorrow //

Always a charmer, the butcher’s only answer to flattering the other Ancient is the knowing smile that blooms on his face, hidden by the fact that he’s standing behind him lacing up the corset. The follow up question is one that brings another soft hum of a laugh from the butcher’s lips as he finishes tying the corset. “Well, I had many people to practice with when I went on my studying how to be a civilized person trek. However, when I came back, Rayla would often be whom I practiced on.” He pauses, as if recalling those moments.

“I wanted to keep the skills sharp, so she would occasionally come to my den to help me when we had nothing else occurring.” Similarly to this, dancing practice, attire, talking (though it had mostly been gossip). It’s almost fond the way he thinks about it, before he’s shaking his head and digging his hand in the carefully concealed bag of goodies he’d brought.

His smile sharpens a touch to hear the answer and to see the smirk that blooms on Danta’s face. “I always like to ask.” Just in case. Even though Danta had never once denied him the opportunity. Producing a large draping necklace, the butcher holds it carefully in his hands to angle it so Danta can see it. There’s multitudes of chains intermixed with pieces of bone that connect each section, a perfect addition for the Maverick who’s shoulders and chest are still bare from how low the corset sits. He steps forward after a moment of unclasping it, reaching around his lover’s neck to slip it on and hook it back together. A few portions settle on his shoulders, connecting to the middle section that mirrors the back, a too wide piece of chainmail in the sense that it drapes cool and glittering on Danta’s skin.

Astaroth

// and i still feel the edge of this cold knife //

you were automatic and as hollow as the 'O' in god

"Ah, yes. Astaroth's adventures around Caido - of course," Danta recalls, a smile curling across his lips as he shifts and adjusts to ensure he's comfortable - though with the butcher's hands still lingering on him, there's very little for him to complain about at all. Hearing Rayla's name has him raising his eyebrows, though (it's still strange for the Maverick to imagine all that went on around him in The Climb while he was, for the most part, leashed and locked away), and he hums a note of curiosity.

Curiosity that only sharpens - albeit at whatever Asta is rummaging around to get - as the butcher continues. "Mm, you are a stickler for consent," he agrees fondly, before something glittering and ivory comes into his line of sight. "Where in Caido did you get that?" Danta breathes, clearly delighted, and he remains perfectly still and obedient to allow the other man to arrange it around his neck and across his shoulders.

Only once he's finished does Danta turn to show him, tilting his head. "I'm not sure this is ballroom appropriate," he says (especially since he's still not wearing pants), but he's absolutely not complaining.

Dantalion

// day breaks sorrow //

A soft laugh leaves him, nodding. “A vital series of lessons, no?” He says softly, lips quirking into a smirk. After all, if he hadn’t learned how to slip under the radar and learn as much as he could about the average person, he honestly thinks he wouldn’t be here at all.

So the nostalgia comes and goes, his smile sharpening when Danta mentions that he’s a stickler for consent, the butcher’s head inclining mischievously before he nods. “I am.” He murmurs softly. “When it is important to be.” He could care less about those that have broken laws that have found themselves in the recesses of jail.

But there’s the chain and ivory necklace to show, and he smiles more genuinely once he has it draped perfectly. “I made it for you. With help, of course.” He says, withdrawing for Danta to feel the weight of it, the heaviness. At his quip, the butcher’s laugh is warm and easy as he nods, flashing his lover a wink. “Did I not say it was indulgent?” No, the beautiful piece of jewelry wouldn’t be appropriate elsewhere, but for the purposes of this room and their lessons, it’s absolutely perfect. Just as he’d hoped.

He snags the pants from where they’re folded up while Danta spins to show the jewelry off to him and he steps forward and kneels in front of Danta with a small wicked smile as he peers up at his lover, helping him slide his foot into the leg hole of the pants. He’s well aware this is something Danta can do on his own, but something about the moment screams that he should help. And so, with the butcher on his knees, knelt before his Theocrat, he gets both of the Ancient’s legs into the slate grey pants and pulls them up, deftly buttoning them before reaching for the deep brown belt that he hands to Danta.

Astaroth

// and i still feel the edge of this cold knife //

you were automatic and as hollow as the 'O' in god

"For someone hoping to get away with passing in ordinary society, I would say so," Danta quips, smiling a fraction over his shoulder at Asta. "Though I would say that many people find your manners quite refreshing, these days. And not in a bad way - I happen to know that most of them almost fall over themselves to get to speak with you." The butcher exudes a charm that's difficult to find anywhere else; written into his very bones, it makes him a rare find indeed.

But then he's fastening and adjusting the necklace and Danta's focus is forced to pivot between the glittering links of bone and chain and the man who had gifted it to him. "Of course you made it," he breathes, a half-smile on his lips that bares the tip of one fang. It drapes perfectly across his chest and shoulders, the Maverick adjusting his posture ever so slightly to ensure it sits the way it should, and he just about thinks he's got it in him to remain polite when Asta is dropping to his fucking knees.

With his mouth suddenly dry and his cheeks hot, it takes everything in his power not to take full advantage of the situation and say hell to behaving himself to learn how to dance, Danta - quietly and reluctantly - steps into the pants and allows the other man to button them. "Thank you," he says, the words loaded with implication, and he snags the belt to quickly buckle it in place before his hands do something else entirely.

Dantalion

// day breaks sorrow //

“Mm, I can tell.” He responds swiftly, already thinking of a particular regular that does her best to “accidentally” stumble upon him while he’s working, just so he can say a few words to her and watch as she flushes a red fierce enough to challenge the red lava spills of the Climb. He doesn’t mind it, though, it means whatever he’s doing is working. That people are charmed enough away from digging into anything deeper, like why his teeth are so sharp or why he sometimes arrives with somewhat suspicious looking bags in hand.

But, that’s neither here nor there. Because right now, he’s too busy lavishing his lover with all kinds of overdue attention, helping him slip into his pants as he kneels before him, peering up at him as he hands him the belt with a soft twitch of a smile on his bearded face. The starry reflection of the necklaces casts glittering light against the walls from the sun that filters in, and Asta realizes that if anyone were to shine so beautifully and unapologetically, it would be his Theocrat.

So Asta slowly rises, his knee popping in the process as his tail twitches contently. “You are welcome, darling.” He hums softly, leaning in to steal a too-quick kiss. “You look beautiful. Would you like to see?” Already he’s stepping aside and hovering over Danta’s back, angling him over to peer at the floor length mirror, to the two of them standing there in all their finery. Gentlemanly, of course, but brutal in their own way.

Astaroth

// and i still feel the edge of this cold knife //

you were automatic and as hollow as the 'O' in god

"Careful," Danta chastises automatically as the protests from Asta's knee echo briefly around the room. Whatever else he has to say is stolen by the other man's lips, his eyes closing briefly at the soft warmth of a kiss that doesn't last nearly long enough. "Mm, I suppose I had better, since you went through all this effort," he murmurs, blinking himself back to the present and allowing the other man to angle him appropriately towards the mirror.

And what he finds staring back at him is nothing short of perfection; macabre, dangerous and oh-so-charming, the fact that they match one another has a curl of heat igniting low in Danta's belly, and he offers a darkly delighted little smile to Asta's reflection. "I don't think we've ever looked so good together," he purrs, glancing to the butcher and raising his eyebrows. "I suppose I should put my shoes on so you can teach me to be graceful?"

Dantalion

// day breaks sorrow //

He’s always careful, though he doesn’t have enough time to make the bratty remark as he claims his lovers lips in a gentle and too short kiss. The smile that blooms is one that’s of pure agreement to having gone through the trouble, and as he twists them to look, hovering over Danta’s shoulder, they make the most stunning pair. “Perfectly.” He purrs, his grin sharper as he withdraws from hovering over the other Ancient’s shoulder.

He parts, reluctantly, so Danta can slip on his shoes. “You are already graceful. Just.. perhaps not so much on a ballroom floor.” In most aspects Danta was graceful in the way a feline was, moving like water when something came too close to boxing him in. And that was part of the fun of this — because while it seemed rigid and intense and boring, the butcher knows just how to make it fluid and intimate.

And he fully intends on showing Danta just how beautiful it could be.

He steps away to add on a finishing touch of his own, only to make them match that much more. A matching trinket to the one Danta wears — albeit much smaller — is quickly adorned on the tines of his horns, draping in waves that move and catch the light in a poor mimicry of the ones Danta boasts. “Ready?” He asks, turning to Danta with a vibrant smile, nestled among olive skin and black and slate grey attire with golden jewelry to match.

Astaroth

// and i still feel the edge of this cold knife //

you were automatic and as hollow as the 'O' in god

"Not yet, anyway," Danta trills with a wry smile at the other man as he steps across the room to slip his feet into his shoes. "I'm trusting you to rectify that with these lessons." He doesn't think that learning to dance on a ballroom floor will make him any more of a gentleman, but at the very least, at least he'll be able to stand toe to toe with Asta in the event of any future parties.

Straightening up and turning just in time to see Asta's own glittering addition, Danta's expression is nothing short of impressed (and maybe a tiny bit lovestruck). Crossing the room to his lover, the Maverick reaches up to admire the way the chains hang and glitter amongst the liquid dark of fire obsidian. "Ready," he confirms at last, clearing his throat and stepping back just a fraction to allow Asta to direct what happens next.

"I trust you are going to lead us," he says. "And you'll tell me where to put my hands - and chastise me if they start to wander."

Dantalion