[ A crush on him, as if they aren't currently holding each other in hand, as if he doesn't seek Vergilius out, or as if Vergilius doesn't seek him out in kind. As if he hadn't sought him out here, as if Silco hadn't just hours ago. Push and pull, back and forth, they're still dancing, even now.
Silco's brief experiment with honesty feels like a weight on his chest, but Vergilius kisses him like he should forget all of it. He worries his lips, and Silco kisses him like a knife cuts, as always. Sharp, unyielding, like he's trying to flay a part of him off for his own personal consumption. ]
You say that enough β [ He breathes against his lips, his hips shifting, so he can wrap thin fingers around the both of them, seeking heat and pleasure, and so his fingers can brush against his. ] β I'm starting to think that may be a guilty man speaking.
[ Maybe they were both guilty in their own ways. Silco has already said something he shouldn't β sharing that secret little part of him, the one that claws in, and never lets go... Is it truly so surprising that he would admit that he doesn't tire of him β that he wouldn't?
His free hand plays with skin, and he bites a line from his lips to his jaw, giving into temptation to nibble against his skin, to suck at it. He so desperately wants to leave a mark, but he can't. He shouldn't. Not after admitting that he wants to stay in secret. His breath hovers over skin, warm, shaking with half-restrained gasps and starts of breath. ]
no subject
Silco's brief experiment with honesty feels like a weight on his chest, but Vergilius kisses him like he should forget all of it. He worries his lips, and Silco kisses him like a knife cuts, as always. Sharp, unyielding, like he's trying to flay a part of him off for his own personal consumption. ]
You say that enough β [ He breathes against his lips, his hips shifting, so he can wrap thin fingers around the both of them, seeking heat and pleasure, and so his fingers can brush against his. ] β I'm starting to think that may be a guilty man speaking.
[ Maybe they were both guilty in their own ways. Silco has already said something he shouldn't β sharing that secret little part of him, the one that claws in, and never lets go... Is it truly so surprising that he would admit that he doesn't tire of him β that he wouldn't?
His free hand plays with skin, and he bites a line from his lips to his jaw, giving into temptation to nibble against his skin, to suck at it. He so desperately wants to leave a mark, but he can't. He shouldn't. Not after admitting that he wants to stay in secret. His breath hovers over skin, warm, shaking with half-restrained gasps and starts of breath. ]