oh darling get me drunk, invite me in

all you have is your fire, and the place you need to reach

As expected, the night heats up and the masquerade devolves into the frenetic sort of chaos that Danta can feel drum through his veins like a heartbeat. He watches as liquor lowers inhibitions and dances become less formal, less about listening and more about feeling, and the food and wine flow all too freely. Alas, it also means that there are many more people about than there were at the beginning of the night, and whilst the Maverick has certainly capitalised on one of his rules - that being his freedom to socialise - he makes sure to check in very regularly with his guard dog.

He's just returning to their little spot (much less secluded than it had been) against one of the gnarled, lantern strewn oaks, this time with a basket in hand that he's filled with pilfered sweets, including the cherries he'd seen Asta coveting earlier on. "I'm back," he announces, however obvious it might sound, holding the basket aloft as if bringing a prize back to his lover.

"How are you holding up?" he asks in a lower voice, hanging their spoils on a low brance and slinking close enough to lean agains the butcher's chest, his arms looping gently around him.

Dantalion

don't you ever tame your demons, but always keep 'em on a leash

i will never go backwards, i will never be seen
in the wake of disaster ...

Nestled up against the oak as he has been for nearly the entirety of the night, the butcher’s spent much of the time tracking the rest of the party. Trying his best to give Danta as much time to mingle as possible without chewing a hole through his cheek in the process, it had been a challenge to say the least. So instead, he’d busied himself with his own little means of amusement in the interim, extending out his haunt with the smiling shadow to only just get caught in the corner of people’s eyes enough to look and end up seeing nothing.

Luckily, though, the vast majority have left him alone. The drink Danta had given him before departing to go and socialize has been empty for some time now and having not trusted himself to get a refill without causing some kind of scene, he’d opted to lean against the trunk, arms across his scarred chest, the chainmail rags weaving with the little bouts of breezes here and there. The occasional will-o-wisp catches his attention, but nothing quite like when Danta returns to him.

He sees the path he takes through the crowd, less people now than there had been originally, and he watches him with outward admiration from beneath the mask and muzzle he bears, ignoring the basket he carries for the moment until he’s actually within speaking distance. His muscles seem tense, like he was fighting against meeting him halfway, but once he hoists the basket it seems to lessen the tension some. “Welcome back, darling.” He purrs softly, arms unfolding from his chest as Danta sinks into it, his arms wrapping possessively around him and under the half shoulder cloak. “I am managing well enough.” Which is a good way of saying he’s only fucked around a little bit and that he should be proud of him.

He really should be. "Did you enjoy your socializing?"

Astaroth

will you sink down to me?

all you have is your fire, and the place you need to reach

"And without anything to drink as well," Danta chimes, raising an eyebrow at the empty glass and stepping automatically closer as Asta's arms wind around him, as if to melt through even the smallest amount of distance between them. "I should have brought something back for you - I do apologise." Because of course the Maverick is very socially lubricated by now, his fingers stroking across the other man's lower back as if to relish the feel of him.

"I did, very much. I particularly enjoyed listening in to a few people claiming that this part of the masquerade might be haunted." He grins, fangs flashing in the dancing firelight. "But you wouldn't know anything about that at all, would you Asta?"

Of course he wouldn't - not the butcher and certainly not his smiling shadow. "Do you want to brave the drinks table with me, or is it still a very risky move?" he wonders.

Dantalion

don't you ever tame your demons, but always keep 'em on a leash

i will never go backwards, i will never be seen
in the wake of disaster ...

“I am parrrrched.” Comes the playful complaint, dramatic even as he sinks his muzzled head down onto Danta’s golden crown, absent of those beautiful diamond horns. As for the apology, he shakes his head enough to ruffle Danta’s hair with the smooth hardness of the muzzle and the brief press of his beard that pokes through. “Ah, darling, I have managed quite well.” Even without a refill of his refreshments.

Ah, but as he hears the rumor, he withdraws from the press of his head against his lovers to spy the reflection of flame in his lover’s fangs, allowing his own smile to bloom on his face with the warm laugh that leaves him, his hand smoothing along the Maverick’s shoulders and up and down his spine, trailing along each vertebrae. “Oh, no, nothing at all. It has been quite quiet here aside from the occasional will-o-wisps.” Ever the air of arrogant nonanswer, the butcher flashing a smirk.

At the prospect of the drink table, though, the butcher pushes up off the trunk he was still somewhat lounging against, nuzzling his muzzled cheek against Danta’s temple. “With you on my arm I will be perfectly fine.” Mostly. If the smiling shadow still trails him, well, that’s between him and Ludo’s Woods. Obviously. "Shall we?"

Astaroth

will you sink down to me?

all you have is your fire, and the place you need to reach

"You have managed more than well, and in more than one way," Danta purrs, utterly willing to shower the butcher in praise for his considerable restraint out here in Ludo's woods, muzzle or no muzzle. Leaning into the affection - and perhaps tipsily overbalancing, just a bit - the Maverick might have been content to stand there for the rest of the night with Asta's warmth radiating out against him and his fingers strumming a tune down the length of his spine. Alas, he's ruined it with his own suggestion.

"You know, I thought it was just a silly rumour. I bet people get spooked so easily at this time of year. Maybe we'll have to hunt for ghosts in our bedroom when we get home, like we did last year." Grinning, even as he peels himself away from the butcher, Danta waits for him to straighten before he fits himself snug against Asta's side.

Barking for the basket to stay!, as if it might walk off on its own without their supervision, he nuzzles the other man obnoxiously right back as they meander around the fringes of the masquerade dancefloor. "Oh. OH," he says suddenly, all but swatting at Asta in his sudden delight. "Dance with me now."

Dantalion

don't you ever tame your demons, but always keep 'em on a leash

i will never go backwards, i will never be seen
in the wake of disaster ...

“Thank you for noticing.” He hums confidently back, chuckling softly to feel Danta’s overbalance, the way he twists into his chest a touch harder than he probably would have had he not indulged out while socializing. Not that Asta blames him, he’d be doing the same thing if given the chance.

As for the haunted portion of the woods they find themselves in, the sharp grin that lingers on Astaroth’s face mirrors the amusement of the flicking of his tail back and forth in anticipation. “Yes. I do believe this year I shall be better prepared.” Whether it was to ensure the ghosts were truly gone or if it would be his own fuckery that made it more of a game, well, time would tell them.

His arm winds around him gently as they start moving toward the drink table as Danta instructs the basket to stay, they pick a path that leads them toward the fringes of the dance floor. Not that Asta is focused on it for once, but when Danta suddenly speaks up the butcher stills immediately, dark gaze drifting to him immediately as if he might be searching for anything wrong – dark brows pinched yet hidden by the mask he wears. The swatting hits against his side, chest, and against the chainmail, and when the demand is made, the butcher’s confusion is very visible in his amber gaze. “Dance?” He’d be lying if he thought about the waltz, given the most recent experience with dancing had been in the Hanged Man. Such that he really doesn’t particularly think it’s a good idea, until he notices the variety of which everyone else on the dance floor is dancing.

And Danta seems delighted by the idea. And if it were something that could be a danger for him to do, he wouldn’t be suggesting it. So he pulls away, snagging his lover’s hand instead to take him up to the dancefloor with a quizzical look. “Alright, darling. What did you have in mind?” He asks, waiting to see just what the Maverick had planned.

Astaroth

will you sink down to me?

all you have is your fire, and the place you need to reach

"And so will I," Danta declares, though he might just be better prepared at 'planting' a few spooks and ghouls in their room for them to find and vanquish. And though he doesn't say it - what if I get haunted, will you fuck the ghosts out of me? - we all know he thinks it. It's probably lucky in a way, then, that he's distracted by the dancefloor.

And Asta's quizzical look only seems to delight Danta further, the Maverick seizing his hand and hurrying them onto the dancefloor where, blessedly, the beat of the music does actually seem suited to his purpose. (He'd have still done what he's about to do, don't get him wrong, but it helps when you want to waltz if there's a waltz).

Clearing his throat and straightening up with a deep breath, as if to persuade himself to be a little more sober and get this absolutely right, Danta offers his lover a roguish bow before he steps forward, an arm upon his shoulder and the other grasping his hand. And then he leads them in a waltz which, while not perfect, is certainly graceful and passable enough to prove that he's been working at it. "I've been practicing," he whispers to Asta, "to surprise you. I just didn't know when to show you."

Dantalion

don't you ever tame your demons, but always keep 'em on a leash

i will never go backwards, i will never be seen
in the wake of disaster ...

It’s probably a very good thing that Danta doesn’t put that thought up into the air, because the butcher might latch on it far sooner than either of them anticipate. After all, what harm was there in a greedy fuck in a haunted forest? But without the thought to push Asta away from the idea of the dance floor to the woods instead, he’s left confused and curious what exactly his lover has planned.

Reaching their space in the dance floor as the song shifts to something that’s far less akin to the upbeat pulse of a club’s music and rather one ore suited for what Asta does know how to dance to. And as he watches him bow, the smile that blooms on the butcher’s face is one that’s wholly charmed as he takes Danta’s hand and rests his hand along the blonde’s hip.

He’s far more surprised when Danta takes the lead, though, moving them through the waltz a touch clumsily but enough that Asta knows that he’s been working on it. His dark gaze softens immensely, the smile on his face is warm and his fingers at his hip squeeze gently, before he leans in a little closer and presses his masked forehead against his lover’s in a gentle touch before their feet force them to part again. “You are so thoughtful, darling. Whenever did you find the time?” He asks with a soft laugh, warm and for the first time this night, replacing the wary arrogance with devoted adoration. "You have done beautifully." Content for once to let Danta lead them, it should be another indicator -- especially this time of year.

Astaroth

will you sink down to me?

all you have is your fire, and the place you need to reach

Far more pleased that Asta is pleased than by anything he might have been able to achieve, as the music continues and Danta settles into the rhythm of the waltz, he manages to lead with much more confidence and grace, to the point where even as the other man leans in, he doesn't miss a step. "Oh, you know. Late at night. When you're out. At the shrine." He shrugs, laughing to himself. "I hope our dark lady likes the sound of a waltz. She hasn't smited me yet, at least."

Sighing almost in relief when he realises he hasn't tripped or fucked it up, it doesn't take long at least before, with a brief break in the music, Danta shifts the placement of his hands as if to give up the lead to Asta - and he's not sad about it in the least. "Thank you," he says, voice low and earnest, his smile giving away how happy he is with the compliment. "Now I did promise you a drink, so do you think you could direct us towards the table while the music finishes?"

Dantalion

don't you ever tame your demons, but always keep 'em on a leash

i will never go backwards, i will never be seen
in the wake of disaster ...

There’s no tripping, there’s no loss of steps or rhythm when he leans in, and it’s only more proof that Danta has been honestly working his ass off for something that Asta adored. And for that, the butcher hangs on each word of when he’d found the time to practice. “Ah, I do hope so. She has often heard it when I have visited her as well.” And here they are, both definitely not smote.

His tail curls in quiet delight as the chainmail and links of the metal clink against each other with their movements, looking absolutely perfect with one another as they move across the dance floor. “You are very welcome.” He says earnestly as Danta gives up the lead, repositioning their hands so that the butcher can guide them. And if it weren’t for the fucking muzzle still placed on his lips, he’d have leaned in and completely ruined the movement of the people around them if only to indulge in the sweet taste of Danta’s lips.

As it stands, though, he’s forced to guide them toward the refreshments. And with a soft laugh, he nods, still wholly charmed and warm. “Mm, I believe I can manage that.” He purrs, taking the lead to bring them off the floor toward the table, only this time his hands are far more possessive than they had been around his lover. “Now, did you only indulge in spiced wine, or was there something else delicious I have missed out on?” He asks, leaning in against his lover’s ear with a conspirator’s whisper.

Astaroth

will you sink down to me?

all you have is your fire, and the place you need to reach

"She has? Well that's a relief at least," Danta says with a breathless chuckle, silently relaxing in the butcher's hands as he surrenders the lead, more than happy to leave the waltz to the other man's expertise now that he's shown him the results of his practice. And honestly, he dances even better when he doesn't have to think about it as much, such that their route to the refreshments table is a particularly enjoyable one, in fact.

When, at last, they are twined together instead of whirling around the dancefloor, Danta takes full advantage of the fact that he can claim kisses from his lover. Granted, he's forced to scatter them across the delicate metal panes of his muzzle, but it still counts, he likes to think. "The mulled cider is quite good," he purrs as they come across the table. "Oh, and there's blackberry champagne, too, but it was a little sweet for me. Which means you will love it."

Already he's reaching out for a flute of it - and a little straw, Asta, not to worry - to offer it to the butcher with a smile that's still wholly elated.

Dantalion

don't you ever tame your demons, but always keep 'em on a leash

i will never go backwards, i will never be seen
in the wake of disaster ...

“Indeed she has.” The butcher confirms, soothing any metaphorical worries Danta might have of Dygra growing tired of classical music. She hadn’t in all the years prior to the butcher’s reawakening, when he’d often prayed in the confines of his den to similar tunes, or when he’d practiced and learned how to do it for the first time. He’s so well versed in fact that the trek to the refreshments is an easy one that he cuts through the rest of the dancers with ease until they’re stepping off of the dance floor and Asta’s possessiveness grows.

Letting the grin bloom across his face as he leans into each press of a kiss to the muzzle, the butcher’s tail sweeps low and around to his leg, curling against him in a gentle press. “Blackberry champagne, mm?” He immediately latches onto the idea as Danta mentions it was too sweet for him, and when the flute comes within sight and the straw is plunked into it, the butcher takes it gently, fingers brushing against his lover’s in the process. Leaning in to steal a sip from the straw, it works funnily with the bubbles, such that it feels as though it’s mostly bubbles he’s sipped.

Such that his nose wrinkles and he casts a glance around the fading event before his warm gaze flits back to Danta with a mischievous glint. “How terrible would it be if we were to remove the muzzle for a few moments?” He asks, head tilting enough that his dark hair slips to the side slightly, still trapped by the antlers that sprout from his skull.

Astaroth

will you sink down to me?

all you have is your fire, and the place you need to reach

Raising an eyebrow beneath his mask as Asta's nose wrinkles - Danta had been reasonably confident that he'd like the beverage - he can't help but to laugh as he realises what has happened. "I think it's safe enough that you can go without," he agrees, reaching up with deft and careful hands to locate the clasps of the muzzle delicately in place beneath Asta's bone mask. "After all, I don't plan to go anywhere away from you now. And it means we can stop by the food after this if you like."

In retrospect it was probably good that the butcher had been left without any refreshments given that he'd be drinking on an empty stomach, Danta gently easing the metal cage away from his lover's jaw with a soft ta daaaa. Of course, rather than letting him take a drink from the flute, the first thing he does is seize the opportunity to steal a real kiss from his lips; tipsy enough not to care about any public displays of affection (and besides, that ship has likely already sailed with Asta's seasonal behaviour), he smiles into the kiss, drawing back only when he's had his fill.

"Alright - all yours." He gestures to the drinks.

Dantalion

don't you ever tame your demons, but always keep 'em on a leash

i will never go backwards, i will never be seen
in the wake of disaster ...

His elation at Danta’s agreement is nearly impossible to hide as he leans down just enough for Danta to reach up and snag the clasps of the muzzle. “Thank Dygra.” The butcher breathes a soft relief, shifting the hand that holds the flute of blackberry champagne, eyes slipping shut momentarily to indulge in the press of his lover’s warm fingers as they work diligently to unclasp the muzzle on his face. There’s only a few red lines along his cheeks when Danta removes the muzzle fully, and with the promise of food being an option, he nearly groans with the thought. “Yes.” He says as the ta daaa reaches his ears, warmth blooming back in his face as he goes to lift the glass to his lips, spinning the straw so it’s pinned behind his index finger.

Of course, that’s when he’s silenced perfectly well by Danta’s lips – a real kiss that he’s been craving the entirety of the night – and the butcher very nearly sags into it and Danta. His free hand slips around the Maverick's middle and lower back, keeping him close just in case he had any thoughts about leaving so soon. He also prolongs it just as much as Danta does, as if making up for the entirety of the party thus far, and only when Danta’s satisfied as well do they part. “Mm, I don’t know, I think I might rather hydrate myself with your kiss. It is, after all, the sweetest thing here.” His lips quirk in a smirk, tail weaving easily behind him but not giving away whether or not it’s sarcasm or truth.

Though he doesn’t immediately lift the glass to his lips to taste it without the straw, which may be an indicator.

Astaroth

will you sink down to me?