[ Their secret, just for them. Silco protects it like he does all of his secrets, like a jealous little creature protecting its find. He fears them, trying to remind Vergilius as to who he is β as if he doesn't know? β as if he's forgotten, or Silco would see him slip through his fingers, if anyone intervened. His jealous fingers, they brush against the scar, as if he could hold him there in place.
He chases that sound he makes, the way he sighs with something that makes Silco want to lean down and swallow that from his mouth. Take it all and consume it. Something about the way he sounds, he wants to chase it and pull it out more, and more. It's just a sigh. It's a sigh that says so much, and he wants to understand it, too. Like it's a little mystery he doesn't quite get yet, or maybe there's a warped little version of it in him, that ties them together, that he doesn't examine too closely. ]
Such faith you put in me... [ He cajoles, a slight twist of teasing amusement. ] Maybe I will.
[ Isn't that just damning? Lead him back to where he came from? No, but he could lead him to that place somewhere in the middle, like weathering a storm. He doesn't want him to come back from it fully, to let that guilt and restraint occupy his thoughts. He wants him to remember what it is to be selfish from time to time, to take, even if it's just him he takes.
He already feels tight, and hot, maybe it had been the dancing, maybe it's his lips against him, and the flush on his face says enough that he already wants him, so much that he feels as if he would tremble from trying to control it. A part of him wants to wait, another part... it doesn't want to. He sinks down, to straddle him, to push him further onto the bed, to take his lips with his in a snap of a bite, a soft note of satisfaction escaped. His clever fingers drawing down, to find a path under his shirt towards more scars, more of his exposed skin, tugging his way down to pull it off. ]
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He chases that sound he makes, the way he sighs with something that makes Silco want to lean down and swallow that from his mouth. Take it all and consume it. Something about the way he sounds, he wants to chase it and pull it out more, and more. It's just a sigh. It's a sigh that says so much, and he wants to understand it, too. Like it's a little mystery he doesn't quite get yet, or maybe there's a warped little version of it in him, that ties them together, that he doesn't examine too closely. ]
Such faith you put in me... [ He cajoles, a slight twist of teasing amusement. ] Maybe I will.
[ Isn't that just damning? Lead him back to where he came from? No, but he could lead him to that place somewhere in the middle, like weathering a storm. He doesn't want him to come back from it fully, to let that guilt and restraint occupy his thoughts. He wants him to remember what it is to be selfish from time to time, to take, even if it's just him he takes.
He already feels tight, and hot, maybe it had been the dancing, maybe it's his lips against him, and the flush on his face says enough that he already wants him, so much that he feels as if he would tremble from trying to control it. A part of him wants to wait, another part... it doesn't want to. He sinks down, to straddle him, to push him further onto the bed, to take his lips with his in a snap of a bite, a soft note of satisfaction escaped. His clever fingers drawing down, to find a path under his shirt towards more scars, more of his exposed skin, tugging his way down to pull it off. ]