[ His neck is already aching from the bruises; they seem to keep multiplying around him β as if he'd known what a weak spot it was β but his breath gasped in a sudden burst, when he broke skin, his fingers white-knuckled against his, fighting for composure that seemed to keep slipping through his fingers. The blood was a small salve on the loss of his own, but this wasn't really about consumption, was it? Not really.
It was about something else, maybe something like reminding each other about the danger they were both in from each other β Silco from physical danger, Vergilius from the danger of being wrapped up in Silco's little plans and plots β but Silco knew exactly the kind of danger he was in, and hadn't sought to step back; he'd so often had his life threatened that it almost seemed to be nothing β and yet here he was, allowing him close. Closer than he'd even allowed the demon he'd sold his soul to.
This was foolish for how dangerous it was, but there was the power too. Like he had that feral dog's leash, even if it snapped back at him and bit him. When had he ever wanted safe, or kind things? No, he knew that Vergilius could kill him, and wasn't half of the rush the fact that he survived? Escaped with only puncture wounds and bruises that he made sure to match?
He isn't satisfied with one wound on his wrist, he pulls his fangs free, but the blood pooling in the twin wounds draws his mouth back to the wound, his tongue pressed to the puncture wounds, and did the blood just keep coming? Was his heart pounding that hard?
He bit him again, a second mark just a touch higher than the first, the blood smearing over his lips and cheek, a soft, satisfied sound seemed to escape from somewhere in him, when he sank his fangs back in. The scent of blood hanging in the air between them just made him want more of it, to leave a series of bites down his arm so he couldn't cover all of them up and hide them away. ]
no subject
It was about something else, maybe something like reminding each other about the danger they were both in from each other β Silco from physical danger, Vergilius from the danger of being wrapped up in Silco's little plans and plots β but Silco knew exactly the kind of danger he was in, and hadn't sought to step back; he'd so often had his life threatened that it almost seemed to be nothing β and yet here he was, allowing him close. Closer than he'd even allowed the demon he'd sold his soul to.
This was foolish for how dangerous it was, but there was the power too. Like he had that feral dog's leash, even if it snapped back at him and bit him. When had he ever wanted safe, or kind things? No, he knew that Vergilius could kill him, and wasn't half of the rush the fact that he survived? Escaped with only puncture wounds and bruises that he made sure to match?
He isn't satisfied with one wound on his wrist, he pulls his fangs free, but the blood pooling in the twin wounds draws his mouth back to the wound, his tongue pressed to the puncture wounds, and did the blood just keep coming? Was his heart pounding that hard?
He bit him again, a second mark just a touch higher than the first, the blood smearing over his lips and cheek, a soft, satisfied sound seemed to escape from somewhere in him, when he sank his fangs back in. The scent of blood hanging in the air between them just made him want more of it, to leave a series of bites down his arm so he couldn't cover all of them up and hide them away. ]