[No, maybe Silco has always been mad. No, wait, he knew that. He's mad, too. Two men on a bed in a labyrinth, talking about the end of the world. That's mad.]
[Vergilius finds himself flummoxed, off-teeter - his dogged pursuit of Malkuth so far away it feels like a distant memory.]
You're making no sense-
[He tries to gruffly protest, even as his fingers dig in more. And then, a clue, a glaring one at that - a mouth of fangs. Like those of the vampires. Vergilius's red eyes are wide. He should move. He should fight. Silco bends down, and something almost short-circuits as his nose brushes over the curve of his jaw, hand pressed over his scalp.]
[Move. Move. MOVE. But as some senses leech back in, its already too late. Those precious seconds, now lost as those fangs find their mark.]
Ah....a-ah....
[Comes the gasp, leaning into a groan. Silco starts to drink, and something feels cold and nasty and exhilarating all at once all over his body. It's enough to make a man puke. Vergilius doesn't. He just shudders, palpably, underneath the man's lithe body.]
[But if Silco thought he would lay there pretty, think again. For the kneejerk reflex for violence is still there, and even in such a position, he's trying to jerk his head away. He won't be satisfied with that alone, though.]
[Vergilius his mouth and bites down, hard, on Silco's own neck as well.]
[He absolutely wants to draw blood, here. Tit for tat.]
no subject
[No, maybe Silco has always been mad. No, wait, he knew that. He's mad, too. Two men on a bed in a labyrinth, talking about the end of the world. That's mad.]
[Vergilius finds himself flummoxed, off-teeter - his dogged pursuit of Malkuth so far away it feels like a distant memory.]
You're making no sense-
[He tries to gruffly protest, even as his fingers dig in more. And then, a clue, a glaring one at that - a mouth of fangs. Like those of the vampires. Vergilius's red eyes are wide. He should move. He should fight. Silco bends down, and something almost short-circuits as his nose brushes over the curve of his jaw, hand pressed over his scalp.]
[Move. Move. MOVE. But as some senses leech back in, its already too late. Those precious seconds, now lost as those fangs find their mark.]
Ah....a-ah....
[Comes the gasp, leaning into a groan. Silco starts to drink, and something feels cold and nasty and exhilarating all at once all over his body. It's enough to make a man puke. Vergilius doesn't. He just shudders, palpably, underneath the man's lithe body.]
[But if Silco thought he would lay there pretty, think again. For the kneejerk reflex for violence is still there, and even in such a position, he's trying to jerk his head away. He won't be satisfied with that alone, though.]
[Vergilius his mouth and bites down, hard, on Silco's own neck as well.]
[He absolutely wants to draw blood, here. Tit for tat.]