[ He catches him by surprise, taking the lead for just a moment, before he's slotted right back into place, pressed up against each other. He leans forward, a soft chuff of amusement against his lips, pushing up against him, nudging him in just the right direction, keeping their hips, their thighs, their chests locked together, like they're working in tandem. ]
Oh no, I didn't think you would complain.
[ He pushes him forward, guides him. They aren't complicated motions. Just tight, and constrained.
Imagine being packed in a little fissure β or maybe an abandoned warehouse β music playing on a cheap record player, echoing through the small space despite the skips and starts. Bodies all trying to hold close to their partner, in their own little worlds. The smell of sweat soaked bodies, the smell of the mines, and the putrid lingering gray, all comingled in a small space. Maybe lights, if they're lucky. Moonshine flowing freely, and sure, other things. Mushrooms grew well in caves, and Zaunites knew what was good.
Silco keeps him close, too close. His thumb still scrapes, his other found its way back to his face. He feels like he can control him like this, push him this way and that. ]
Only managing your expectations, Vergilius. [ He turns them, Vergilius's back towards the interior of the room.
Just them. In private. Maybe Silco's a touch freer here, a little bit looser. He's found something to roost in, to dig his claws into. He doesn't want to let go. ]
no subject
[ He catches him by surprise, taking the lead for just a moment, before he's slotted right back into place, pressed up against each other. He leans forward, a soft chuff of amusement against his lips, pushing up against him, nudging him in just the right direction, keeping their hips, their thighs, their chests locked together, like they're working in tandem. ]
Oh no, I didn't think you would complain.
[ He pushes him forward, guides him. They aren't complicated motions. Just tight, and constrained.
Imagine being packed in a little fissure β or maybe an abandoned warehouse β music playing on a cheap record player, echoing through the small space despite the skips and starts. Bodies all trying to hold close to their partner, in their own little worlds. The smell of sweat soaked bodies, the smell of the mines, and the putrid lingering gray, all comingled in a small space. Maybe lights, if they're lucky. Moonshine flowing freely, and sure, other things. Mushrooms grew well in caves, and Zaunites knew what was good.
Silco keeps him close, too close. His thumb still scrapes, his other found its way back to his face. He feels like he can control him like this, push him this way and that. ]
Only managing your expectations, Vergilius. [ He turns them, Vergilius's back towards the interior of the room.
Just them. In private. Maybe Silco's a touch freer here, a little bit looser. He's found something to roost in, to dig his claws into. He doesn't want to let go. ]
On where things will go.