[He has to ask himself: would he be in this position at all if it wasn't dangerous? If there wasn't that shadow hanging over them? If he wasn't bred to be a weapon in human form?]
[Of course not.]
[The bump against his legs make him blink, caught by surprise. Silco has led him to his spider's web. Here, fly. Lay down and enjoy the strings.]
[His hand travels to grab a handful (really, whatever Silco has) of his ass to give it a squeeze. His breath is hot against his scarred, thin lips.]
[ He says he's a man, and a part of Silco accepts that, understands that he's more than merely a monster β but he is still a dangerous man, and wasn't that what he wanted? Had always wanted? The danger was a part of it, whether it's taken out on his skin or not, it's the implied danger of it all. The curl of his finger against his spine, the way his hands grab him, strength and intent clear in his grip.
He shudders a little soft chuckle against his lips, pleasure coupled with desire all in one. His fingers drag along his arm, against his face, toward his shoulders, not quite digging in, feeling at hard muscle. He could snap his neck if he wanted, he could kill him in a thousand different ways, but maybe he'll allow for another little death, and another, and another. ]
Perhaps we'll test the waters, see how long you can hold your breath.
[ He breathes it against his lips, teeth and scarred lips promising to pull him under, if he lets it. How far they can drift, how long they can last, join him in the undertow, and see how far they can drift before they're forced to the surface.
He nudges him, pushes him to the bed with no strength, but the expectation that he'll follow anyway. ]
[There is no strength to it, but he acquiesces to it anyways. How funny, for someone as powerful as him. He doesn't lay down right away, instead wrapping his arms around the the slender excuses Silco has for legs as he nestles his chin against the line of his abdomen.]
You say that like a threat.
[There is absolutely glimmering, affectionate amusement in his hoarse voice at that one. He places a kiss against the line of his groin, knowing he's teasing. He may allow Silco to push him around, but...]
[ A soft 'hm', a tip of his head. He looks down at him, thin fingers drag along his shoulders. No, loyal dog he isn't, but he doesn't mind that. Would it be any more interesting than if he were to lay down and simply allow it to happen?
He lifted a finger, to brush at the fringe at his forehead, drawing down to catch against the scar on his face, his nail scraping along the length of it. He stares down at him with his own half-unblinking gaze, a pinprick of light that never seems to waver; a sharp little expression β a hint of teeth and a sharp, knowing little smile came to life. ]
Maybe it is... after all... [ He nudges to plant a knee between his legs, just at the edge of the bed. ]
I could lead you astray.
[ Weren't they both already? Astray. Somewhere in between?
He wants to push him down fully, but he waits, taking the opportunity to watch his lips against the line of him, a sharp little shuddering breath gives it away, that he wants him, just like this, to sink his teeth into, and hold him down. Keep him here, where he can keep their secret behind locked doors, keep him behind those doors. Satisfaction settled onto his face, feeling the raised skin of his scar, and scraping his nail against it. ]
[Should he be kept secret? Probably. Maybe. Yes. The City hangs over any connection he makes like a shroud. If he gets too close to anyone, then if they are lost to the whims of cruel fate...]
[He doesn't want to think of it now. Silco is here in his arms. It's easy to focus on everything physical, like an itch to be scratched. He knows its more than that. More threads tie them now instead of simple honest lust. But even in his denial, he can't help the way he sighs, almost longingly, at the nail that scrapes over his scar.]
And maybe you could lead me back, too.
[Since he already was astray. This feels more grounding. He feels more human, more vibrant, more alive. His constant guilt feels more like a shadow in the back of the room than something infecting every waking moment.]
[Another few kisses, meaningful, against the cloth that feels so heated already. He wonders if he can coax him with such simple gestures, make him gasp and keen and want for more. Want him more.]
[ 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. ]
[It's wrong to put faith into those spider-like hands. It's insane to even think about trusting them, too. This is the same man who stabbed him, transformed him into a monster against his will.]
[And yet, he's here. He must be obsessed, desperate. There's something about Silco he has to return to over and over again. Like a self-punishment that burns into his skin like another type of scar. But can it be punishment when it feels so good?]
[Silco descends like a vulture. He is at mercy for his talons, his teeth. He accepts them readily, allows his lip to be bitten. As Silco makes good work of his shirt, he does the same in return for the other man as he yanks off his top to reveal that sight he knows so well. The slender waist, the spine that he can carress and fondle over.]
[Vergilius sighs again into his mouth. The flush on Silco's face...he has to say something about it. So he mutters it into his ear as he kisses and nips at his jaw. His hands keep him solidly where he is, clamped down on his tights to tug him snug against his pelvis.]
[ Vergilius is a welcome sight, laid bare, though he hardly has the opportunity to look, but he's starting to map it all out, the lace of scars and muscle, his fingers find the ones he always gravitates toward, starts at his neck, where he'd bitten him, and draw down from there, always beginning where it all started β or at least where it changed. He could admit it, that something had shifted, tipped like gravity went askew.
Again, it happens, he says things that catch Silco off guard, the heat in his face spreading a little further β it's a half thing, on half his face, over his nose, but the dead, mottled skin over his scar doesn't change. It might look healed over with the makeup he wears, but they both knew what it really looked like by now β Vergilius had seen him fully bare in every way, after all β and his lips part, before he leans in to scrape sharp, chipped teeth against his neck. ]
Please, that's because I'm in your lap.
[ He punctuates it with a slight roll of his hips, what little he can move it, with his large hands holding him down like he's liable to squirm out of his grip from the words. He doesn't, he just drives to press his lips and teeth against that space of his neck, the juncture where his jaw and ear meet, to press in there, and suck a bruising mark against him.
Fingers draw down, scraping across his skin, the scars, a familiar little path he'd been aching to touch all night when he sat across from him β even when he'd caught his eyes across the room β he always seeks him out, as if it's only natural to find sight of him whenever he looks across the room. Even now, even trying to duck his face away, he can't stay for long, pulling back to look him in the eye β despite the obvious flush β and his lips curled, reaching up with a hand to brush his bangs back. ]
I very nearly tried to pull you into a β hah β business meeting while we were there.
[ So, so, tempting. He'd admit it, there's addiction here; obsession. He aims to cling and not let go of him. ]
[The flush moves. He finds himself enraptured by it, almost distracted before those dull teeth meet his neck to eke out a groan from his chest. A nice flush to remind him that Silco is very much human. And what a nice thing that is. This little paranoid creature of the dark was just a man. Same as him. Regardless of how monstrous they were to their core.]
[The mark is lovely, the pain more so - and it almost makes him miss the sharp sting of the man sucking his blood so long ago. His fingers dig in a little as he grunts and murmurs, before Silco shifts to grace him with his face once more. Again, red eyes are exposed, stared into, like they mean nothing.]
[His chest heaves, mouth curled up into a smirk.]
That so. [He shivers at the way the man maps him out. He must know him so well by now, all his scarred little roads. His on thumbs stroke dangerously close to his groin.] A business meeting. Ha. I would do that. Pull you aside into the bathroom. Talk business.
[He pushes past his grip to kiss him with a teasing nip, almost grinning, now.]
Maybe we can one day. And I can show you just how good I can make you shut up with my mouth.
[ Breathing against his mouth, Vergilius can feel the way his breath catches when his fingers drift toward his groin, pressed up against him like he is, nestled so perfectly right against him, slotting in so neatly. His thin thighs tighten around him, as if he could escape β where would he even go? β as if he wants to keep him right here.
He teases back, nips at his lips, his unblinking eye stares at his. There's a lurch somewhere, like something draws him closer, as if he could be closer. Like he melds against him, his fingers still find the little scars, like tributaries on a map, he follows them down, down, down. Fingers graze against scars, the remnants of wounds.
He still wants to learn about them, the ones that matter, but right now β he's distracted, too busy worrying his lips with his own, teeth and tongue snaking out to tease him. His fingers holding him in place, touching him, and that blossom of heat where his fingers just teased at the edge of him. ]
Oh? I thought you liked it when I made noise? [ He asked, his words formed against his lips. ] Maybe you should. Take me aside... steal me away from whatever nonsense they force us into next.
[ A better use of his time, perhaps. He says it with a press of his hips, rubbing against him through paings, enjoying the heat pressed against his admittedly thin and too-tight pants. ]
[Where would Silco even go? Would he ever lay with someone like this, bared? Not a chance. What he has here, with every ridge and curve of this slender body, belongs to him and him alone. This is a sight made for Vergilius. No one else.]
[He's never been a possessive man. His selfishness has always been buried deep, punished for existing. But perhaps here, with the taste of Silco on his tongue, he can acknowledge how pleased he is to have this all for himself.]
Mm. [Another mumble into the biting kiss, his hand palming over the hot swell in those pants, teasing.] Of course I do. But I'm sure you wouldn't want just anyone to walk in on your dick halfway down my throat.
[Crude, crude, crude. He will break out poetry, and then follow up with something as dirty as this. He unzips him now to relieve pressure, his own tent aching as he shifts it ever so slightly against the man on top of him.]
...I like - mm - when you touch me. [A little exhale, almost a laugh, to be stolen by Silco's mouth.] I think you've memorized everything by now.
[ It's crude, it's shameless, but he shivers a bit at the image he crafts with just a few words. The sight of him wrapped around him was scorched into his brain, but the idea of him with his knees on cold tile, unwilling to wait long enough to seek privacy. He could tug his hair back, look down at him, and β
His cock twitches, freed from his pants, and he pushes forward, seeking his scarred hands like they're drawn to him, lips and tongue hungry, like he's swallowing each and every crude little word and promise. They're all for him to take. It's all his, and he greedily sucks them down with little bites and pleased gasps breathed against his lips. ]
All the more reason to prove to you I know them... [ He promises, a thumb grazing one of them, just along his abdomen, right where he can fiddle with the edges of his pants, a little promise of something more.
And maybe, foolishly, he's more honest when he's bare before him. ] I don't think I could tire of tracing them. [ Thin, clever little fingers slip the button free, so he can find his way in. ] Or of touching you.
[ He pulls him free, offering something like relief that comes with the price of his fingers wrapped around him, his hips rolling in time with his hands. ]
[It sounds like a sigh. But it comes out unbidded, a genuine little exhalation of surprise against those lips. He could never tire of him? It sounds almost like a fantasy. Words that aren't meant for simple wanderings of lust, perhaps, but for-]
[He interrupts himself. He has something here to focus on - his cock thickening so lovingly in the man's distinct bony grip. A little whine edges from his throat as he also reaches out to stroke alongside Silco, pumping from his groin.]
Say something - mm - like that and. Hah. Makes me think you have a crush on me.
[His hand on Silco's hip moves up to cup the back of his head, stealing a passionate kiss that he worries into the other's lips.]
[ 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. ]
Edited (I wake up and perceive a typo don't tag at 1 am π) 2025-05-12 11:19 (UTC)
[Can the pot recognize when the kettle calls it black in return? Maybe. Maybe not. They say such things, and yet they still guard their cores like frightened little animals. As if they can keep playing their same games. Over and over and over again, refusing to look directly into the sun.]
[Silco's fingertips brush against his. His mouth quirks upward, almost a smile. His own hand brushes through Silco's hair, almost petting it as the man attempts his work on his jaw. A pleasurable tickle, but...no, he's getting frustrated, a little.]
[His hand grasps the back of Silco's head, a little tug to gather attention. His growl rumbles as he leans forward, his own teeth encircling the man's earlobe to give it a bip.]
[ What would they have, if they gave up the game? It would be something tangible. Something to...
No, it must remain intangible.
He's holding back, a little, taking his time. Like a little spider that sets the web, and lets the fly land in it, all that patient waiting manifests as hunger, settling beneath his skin. He's controlled it this long, nestled up against him, but that want threatens to spill forth, like a monster threatening to split his skin and crawl out, leaving bones and skin behind to some other Thing that wants nothing more than to consume him.
He calls him a coward, and Silco's fingers scrape against his skin again, a little sharper, a little meaner.
His laugh, though, is of course that, but there's... something else there. Pleased. Even though he tugs at his hair and bites at his ear. It sends another little shiver down his spine. ]
Don't complain later, then.
[ His nose brushes the space behind his jaw, a breath that's half a laugh, and half something more heated, he presses his lips there, his teeth, still those barely-there marks against his jaw, before there's a sharp inhale, the flood of a memory. Of blood in his mouth, and how good it had tasted then.
It's sharp, it's rough, it's a bite that comes with pressure, as if he were trying to suck his blood out from him, though he doesn't break skin. He almost seems to relax in his lap, when he stops holding back, as if the spider has finally pinned the fly down against the web. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[Of course not.]
[The bump against his legs make him blink, caught by surprise. Silco has led him to his spider's web. Here, fly. Lay down and enjoy the strings.]
[His hand travels to grab a handful (really, whatever Silco has) of his ass to give it a squeeze. His breath is hot against his scarred, thin lips.]
And where shall our captain take us today?
no subject
He shudders a little soft chuckle against his lips, pleasure coupled with desire all in one. His fingers drag along his arm, against his face, toward his shoulders, not quite digging in, feeling at hard muscle. He could snap his neck if he wanted, he could kill him in a thousand different ways, but maybe he'll allow for another little death, and another, and another. ]
Perhaps we'll test the waters, see how long you can hold your breath.
[ He breathes it against his lips, teeth and scarred lips promising to pull him under, if he lets it. How far they can drift, how long they can last, join him in the undertow, and see how far they can drift before they're forced to the surface.
He nudges him, pushes him to the bed with no strength, but the expectation that he'll follow anyway. ]
no subject
You say that like a threat.
[There is absolutely glimmering, affectionate amusement in his hoarse voice at that one. He places a kiss against the line of his groin, knowing he's teasing. He may allow Silco to push him around, but...]
[Well, some blind loyal dog he is not.]
no subject
He lifted a finger, to brush at the fringe at his forehead, drawing down to catch against the scar on his face, his nail scraping along the length of it. He stares down at him with his own half-unblinking gaze, a pinprick of light that never seems to waver; a sharp little expression β a hint of teeth and a sharp, knowing little smile came to life. ]
Maybe it is... after all... [ He nudges to plant a knee between his legs, just at the edge of the bed. ]
I could lead you astray.
[ Weren't they both already? Astray. Somewhere in between?
He wants to push him down fully, but he waits, taking the opportunity to watch his lips against the line of him, a sharp little shuddering breath gives it away, that he wants him, just like this, to sink his teeth into, and hold him down. Keep him here, where he can keep their secret behind locked doors, keep him behind those doors. Satisfaction settled onto his face, feeling the raised skin of his scar, and scraping his nail against it. ]
no subject
[He doesn't want to think of it now. Silco is here in his arms. It's easy to focus on everything physical, like an itch to be scratched. He knows its more than that. More threads tie them now instead of simple honest lust. But even in his denial, he can't help the way he sighs, almost longingly, at the nail that scrapes over his scar.]
And maybe you could lead me back, too.
[Since he already was astray. This feels more grounding. He feels more human, more vibrant, more alive. His constant guilt feels more like a shadow in the back of the room than something infecting every waking moment.]
[Another few kisses, meaningful, against the cloth that feels so heated already. He wonders if he can coax him with such simple gestures, make him gasp and keen and want for more. Want him more.]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
[And yet, he's here. He must be obsessed, desperate. There's something about Silco he has to return to over and over again. Like a self-punishment that burns into his skin like another type of scar. But can it be punishment when it feels so good?]
[Silco descends like a vulture. He is at mercy for his talons, his teeth. He accepts them readily, allows his lip to be bitten. As Silco makes good work of his shirt, he does the same in return for the other man as he yanks off his top to reveal that sight he knows so well. The slender waist, the spine that he can carress and fondle over.]
[Vergilius sighs again into his mouth. The flush on Silco's face...he has to say something about it. So he mutters it into his ear as he kisses and nips at his jaw. His hands keep him solidly where he is, clamped down on his tights to tug him snug against his pelvis.]
You're cute when you blush.
no subject
Again, it happens, he says things that catch Silco off guard, the heat in his face spreading a little further β it's a half thing, on half his face, over his nose, but the dead, mottled skin over his scar doesn't change. It might look healed over with the makeup he wears, but they both knew what it really looked like by now β Vergilius had seen him fully bare in every way, after all β and his lips part, before he leans in to scrape sharp, chipped teeth against his neck. ]
Please, that's because I'm in your lap.
[ He punctuates it with a slight roll of his hips, what little he can move it, with his large hands holding him down like he's liable to squirm out of his grip from the words. He doesn't, he just drives to press his lips and teeth against that space of his neck, the juncture where his jaw and ear meet, to press in there, and suck a bruising mark against him.
Fingers draw down, scraping across his skin, the scars, a familiar little path he'd been aching to touch all night when he sat across from him β even when he'd caught his eyes across the room β he always seeks him out, as if it's only natural to find sight of him whenever he looks across the room. Even now, even trying to duck his face away, he can't stay for long, pulling back to look him in the eye β despite the obvious flush β and his lips curled, reaching up with a hand to brush his bangs back. ]
I very nearly tried to pull you into a β hah β business meeting while we were there.
[ So, so, tempting. He'd admit it, there's addiction here; obsession. He aims to cling and not let go of him. ]
no subject
[The mark is lovely, the pain more so - and it almost makes him miss the sharp sting of the man sucking his blood so long ago. His fingers dig in a little as he grunts and murmurs, before Silco shifts to grace him with his face once more. Again, red eyes are exposed, stared into, like they mean nothing.]
[His chest heaves, mouth curled up into a smirk.]
That so. [He shivers at the way the man maps him out. He must know him so well by now, all his scarred little roads. His on thumbs stroke dangerously close to his groin.] A business meeting. Ha. I would do that. Pull you aside into the bathroom. Talk business.
[He pushes past his grip to kiss him with a teasing nip, almost grinning, now.]
Maybe we can one day. And I can show you just how good I can make you shut up with my mouth.
no subject
He teases back, nips at his lips, his unblinking eye stares at his. There's a lurch somewhere, like something draws him closer, as if he could be closer. Like he melds against him, his fingers still find the little scars, like tributaries on a map, he follows them down, down, down. Fingers graze against scars, the remnants of wounds.
He still wants to learn about them, the ones that matter, but right now β he's distracted, too busy worrying his lips with his own, teeth and tongue snaking out to tease him. His fingers holding him in place, touching him, and that blossom of heat where his fingers just teased at the edge of him. ]
Oh? I thought you liked it when I made noise? [ He asked, his words formed against his lips. ] Maybe you should. Take me aside... steal me away from whatever nonsense they force us into next.
[ A better use of his time, perhaps. He says it with a press of his hips, rubbing against him through paings, enjoying the heat pressed against his admittedly thin and too-tight pants. ]
me slapping on the nsfw tag...smh
[He's never been a possessive man. His selfishness has always been buried deep, punished for existing. But perhaps here, with the taste of Silco on his tongue, he can acknowledge how pleased he is to have this all for himself.]
Mm. [Another mumble into the biting kiss, his hand palming over the hot swell in those pants, teasing.] Of course I do. But I'm sure you wouldn't want just anyone to walk in on your dick halfway down my throat.
[Crude, crude, crude. He will break out poetry, and then follow up with something as dirty as this. He unzips him now to relieve pressure, his own tent aching as he shifts it ever so slightly against the man on top of him.]
...I like - mm - when you touch me. [A little exhale, almost a laugh, to be stolen by Silco's mouth.] I think you've memorized everything by now.
π i hate them....
His cock twitches, freed from his pants, and he pushes forward, seeking his scarred hands like they're drawn to him, lips and tongue hungry, like he's swallowing each and every crude little word and promise. They're all for him to take. It's all his, and he greedily sucks them down with little bites and pleased gasps breathed against his lips. ]
All the more reason to prove to you I know them... [ He promises, a thumb grazing one of them, just along his abdomen, right where he can fiddle with the edges of his pants, a little promise of something more.
And maybe, foolishly, he's more honest when he's bare before him. ] I don't think I could tire of tracing them. [ Thin, clever little fingers slip the button free, so he can find his way in. ] Or of touching you.
[ He pulls him free, offering something like relief that comes with the price of his fingers wrapped around him, his hips rolling in time with his hands. ]
no subject
[It sounds like a sigh. But it comes out unbidded, a genuine little exhalation of surprise against those lips. He could never tire of him? It sounds almost like a fantasy. Words that aren't meant for simple wanderings of lust, perhaps, but for-]
[He interrupts himself. He has something here to focus on - his cock thickening so lovingly in the man's distinct bony grip. A little whine edges from his throat as he also reaches out to stroke alongside Silco, pumping from his groin.]
Say something - mm - like that and. Hah. Makes me think you have a crush on me.
[His hand on Silco's hip moves up to cup the back of his head, stealing a passionate kiss that he worries into the other's lips.]
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. ]
no subject
[Can the pot recognize when the kettle calls it black in return? Maybe. Maybe not. They say such things, and yet they still guard their cores like frightened little animals. As if they can keep playing their same games. Over and over and over again, refusing to look directly into the sun.]
[Silco's fingertips brush against his. His mouth quirks upward, almost a smile. His own hand brushes through Silco's hair, almost petting it as the man attempts his work on his jaw. A pleasurable tickle, but...no, he's getting frustrated, a little.]
[His hand grasps the back of Silco's head, a little tug to gather attention. His growl rumbles as he leans forward, his own teeth encircling the man's earlobe to give it a bip.]
Don't be a coward. Claim me.
no subject
No, it must remain intangible.
He's holding back, a little, taking his time. Like a little spider that sets the web, and lets the fly land in it, all that patient waiting manifests as hunger, settling beneath his skin. He's controlled it this long, nestled up against him, but that want threatens to spill forth, like a monster threatening to split his skin and crawl out, leaving bones and skin behind to some other Thing that wants nothing more than to consume him.
He calls him a coward, and Silco's fingers scrape against his skin again, a little sharper, a little meaner.
His laugh, though, is of course that, but there's... something else there. Pleased. Even though he tugs at his hair and bites at his ear. It sends another little shiver down his spine. ]
Don't complain later, then.
[ His nose brushes the space behind his jaw, a breath that's half a laugh, and half something more heated, he presses his lips there, his teeth, still those barely-there marks against his jaw, before there's a sharp inhale, the flood of a memory. Of blood in his mouth, and how good it had tasted then.
It's sharp, it's rough, it's a bite that comes with pressure, as if he were trying to suck his blood out from him, though he doesn't break skin. He almost seems to relax in his lap, when he stops holding back, as if the spider has finally pinned the fly down against the web. ]