[ No, there's nothing kind, or sweet here. Silco's all sharp edges, as rotted to the core as the river he'd been drowned in. It's an insidious thing, maybe, trying to tug him down into the undertow with him, while his fingers found purchase and dug into healed-over scar lines like they were something he could hold onto, dig into. This is control, and maybe hunger β he feels like he can almost hear the blood rushing between them, open wounds everywhere they've bitten each other, or poked into open wounds β and he wants to pull him down.
His lips part almost automatically, his fangs are a sharp hazard, like everything else about him, and he's quick to drag them against his tongue, or his lips, whatever he can find, leaving a stinging cut against his skin wherever he can find purchase. It's half a kiss, half a biting, stinging response, snapping down against his lips when his hands sink downward, an automatic response that lacks whatever control he's managed to pull from his white knuckled grip on his side.
He fights back, not just biting kisses against his lips and tongue, or the tightly-dug grip against his sides β his legs now freed found place to rest, he pressed a knee against him digging in with just on the side of too much against his groin, pressing just too hard.
It was never going to be gentle, or warm. But there was something honest in that, the both of them were fighting, trying to break each other apart. What would happen if one of them broke?
He hissed out against his lips, that lack of control slipping out, escaping from that iron grip. His voice slipped out with it, soft, barely there, but the room is silent except for their shared breaths. It's hard to miss the edge of a groan into the quiet between them, while they try both try to pull each other apart piece by piece. ]
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His lips part almost automatically, his fangs are a sharp hazard, like everything else about him, and he's quick to drag them against his tongue, or his lips, whatever he can find, leaving a stinging cut against his skin wherever he can find purchase. It's half a kiss, half a biting, stinging response, snapping down against his lips when his hands sink downward, an automatic response that lacks whatever control he's managed to pull from his white knuckled grip on his side.
He fights back, not just biting kisses against his lips and tongue, or the tightly-dug grip against his sides β his legs now freed found place to rest, he pressed a knee against him digging in with just on the side of too much against his groin, pressing just too hard.
It was never going to be gentle, or warm. But there was something honest in that, the both of them were fighting, trying to break each other apart. What would happen if one of them broke?
He hissed out against his lips, that lack of control slipping out, escaping from that iron grip. His voice slipped out with it, soft, barely there, but the room is silent except for their shared breaths. It's hard to miss the edge of a groan into the quiet between them, while they try both try to pull each other apart piece by piece. ]