synflux | CATCH-ALL

[The initial question the man asks actually makes him pause - and then let out a little low noise. A hahaha that seems a little unnatural to a man so dour.]

...I know I was that good, if the way you're throwing yourself at me is any indication.

[Silco is a careful man. To show any vulnerability would be akin to showing a sore spot to an enemy to dig a knife into. And yet here, with those wonderful little groans and the way his body twists to eliminate as much spact between them, Silco is as vulnerable as anything. It doesn't mean he's still not a threat. It doesn't mean he's not going to make this easy. Vergilius's breath hitches with the nails into his back, little wounds to join the rest of them.]

[Greedy. How very greedy. Silco covets him like a magpie with a little bauble of treasure, to have only for him and him alone.]

[Trouble is, Vergilius can be very greedy too. A surprising new element to himself, he's discovered. Or maybe it's always been there.]

What am I going to do...

[He pauses, muses, even as now his other hand is diving in to slip under fabric, slide up Silco's back. He knows his scars must feel rough.]

Perhaps I should leave you to your thoughts. Your dreams. [He is more than happy to meet that little nip with one of his own, sucking on the man's bottom lip as he sighs. How funny, how wretched he is, that such an affair has pushed his self-loathing behind him, even if they're still standing in a sin of their own making.] I'm sure you still like being able to walk. Hardly would want to get in the way of that. Again.

[ Oh, he's far too confident. Silco considers denying it -- throwing himself at him? As of they haven't been playing a game, sniping at one another over and over again, little quibbles and insults. How many times had he pestered him on the network, or reached out?

Had he wanted to hear his voice? See if he could goad him into breaking down? Now that he was -- he was threatening to walk away? No, he didn't think so. This was just another step in the game, both of them trying to twist into one another, while protecting the tender spots they do carefully shielded. He'd breached this barrier, and Vergilius had leaned into him, opened his mouth to him. Even now, he's biting at his lip, aaaaand Silco doesn't think he'll just walk away.

Not after so much time.

He's pressed against him, his fingers running over scars on his back. They're like latticework, and he wants to pick them apart. ]

You think you would enjoy that? [ He asked, against his lips. ] Knowing that I'm just a few doors down from you, thinking about it? [ His teeth came out, uneven and sharp, to bite at him again. ]

Thinking about that missed opportunity? [ A smile that almost looks a sneer. ] I'm not so delicate, that you have to worry about breaking me.

[ Well, maybe a little. That few days after had been... Hm. ]

I like making you suffer a little. Leave you to stew in it. Imagine that opportunity however you want, while never getting it.

[He says this, but he's currently feeling up the other man, here, touch somehow both oddly tender and a little insistent as a finger trails down every edge of his vertebrae. He has made threats to others to rip out their spine. He could do it here, now. Add Silco to the bodies around them. He could.]

[Another bite. He never stops biting. Vergilius kisses him again, wrestles with those lips as if to worry them away. He only pauses to hiss, licking over the wound already there.]

Don't I have to worry? Aren't you a busy man? My, my. What will people think?

[A little laugh - heady, his mind pulled from one extreme to another here. He feels a little insane.]

Or will they be okay with you missing for a few days?

Hm, would that be enough for you? [ His lips curl beneath his, half like he doesn't believe him, and half like he thinks the suffering would spread to him in turn. Would it be worth it, if it cut both ways? ] You can't tell me you don't think about it, too. I wonder how long you would put yourself through that?

[ He doesn't want that, despite his tone, and he punctuated the question with his fingers into his back, starting to drift upwards and wondering just how long it would be until this toppled over. Scars under his fingers that he wanted to pick apart, like he could reveal the pieces of him underneath laid bare.They were still playing this out, like a script. Hot and cold -- playing like they could just go their separate ways tonight, because this was nothing, obviously.

But they're giving it away, too. Aren't they? His fingers on his spine are almost... Almost -- He shivers, stones forward by fingers at the too-bony points on his back, each one like a peak on a mountain ridge. ]

Oh, you think you can do that again? [ He sounds almost amused, as he opened his mouth to him again. His teeth scraped against him, each bite received one in response. Never one to back down, a soft sound to accompany it, pleased.]

I'd like to see you try. [ he, too, must be insane. For goading him like this. He was a doomed man, but being doomed never made his blood practically simmer like this. ] Imagine the public service you would be doing, putting the criminal up for a few days.

I'm an exceedingly patient man.

[Oh, but Silco is right. He would imagine it, just like he imagined it after their little cookie incident. He had his taste whetted, and here he is to have his fill. And then some.]

[And then some.]

[This isn't the time or place fpr such base thoughts. But Silco is right- he's been thinking of it too much to not let it sink into the way he covets the man's body here. He just killed a lot of people. He will likely kill more. He should be well deep in his own perpetual sorrow, but he's not. How?]

[Silco speaks against his lips, and he has an an understanding of why. He's too good of a distraction. He's a hateable figure he wants to put into place. These people he killed are mere mooks, even if he still has sadness over their deaths. Silco is the big prize, and one of the ways to really punish him is-]

[Well. They're sort of already talking about it.]

[No. He can't leave here and now. But this is inconvenient, too. Vergilius bites a little in a line over the jaw, almost love bites. Hungry, hungry.]<

I like that idea. Let's try. I'll be lauded like a hero by the time you wake up.

[A beat, a little shiver. ]

Maybe we should start right now. Silco.

Hm.

[ He murmurs, because he knows. He knows he's right, because it wasn't just the cookies, was it? Sure, Vergilius wouldn't admit it, but every now and then, between the anger or the insults, there are the little fractures peeking through. Like the outfit, or the way he hadn't just taken the kiss under the mistletoe or even — now.

No, he's already shown his hand, but then again... so had Silco, hadn't he? He could have simply turned the other way, or not spoken to him after... the cookie incident, but instead he'd signed a contract to keep him around, hadn't he? Given him those little hints at who he was — been honest with him, at least in the way that he knew how.

No, he was damned too, a little bit. He'd already given away the secret, that he was greedy, and wanted more of him.

Maybe a little more of what he was promising. ]

You'd like that, wouldn't you? All the accolades for nothing more than taking what you already wanted.

[ He tipped his head, allowing him to do what he wanted. His fingers drifted back down his back, to trail along the line of a scar there. His fingers ached to do more, so he did. Let them drift forward, tracing to his sides, inward — to the dips of his hips, to press his thumbs in there. ]

You're going to start here? [ No question of 'now', but he doubted the man would make a throne of fallen bodies, would he? Topple him over into the mess of blood and gore? As much as he enjoyed the look of carnage on his face, of all the blood on him... Well. He felt stupid enough though — foolish enough — that he might agree.

Then again, he hardly wanted to break it, what was hanging in the air. It felt a bit like, if he just pushed it would fall apart in his fingertips as readily as it was... simmering between them like electric wire, like the high of shimmer suspended and holding just right. ]

[It's fragile. It's new. It's familiar. It's been around forever. It's strong as anything. It's infuriating. It makes him insane. What they have here has been brewing, and the cup runneth over now.]

[It's time to admit, at least, that he likes the way the man touches him. Perhaps he's just that desperate for touch - Malkuth was the one to really start that snowball down the mountain- but no, really, Silco was special. He mapped him out like he was one of his documents. He hoped he would memorize every scar, somehow. He doesn't know why he wants him to do it. Maybe he just wants someone in his life currently treating his body like a little more than a machine.]

[Is he going to start here? At least a small logical part is crying out that this isn't the best place. Another part is too recklessly aroused to think of anything else than descending into madness and taking him here and now.]

[He sighs into his mouth, a shudder as his thumb plays with the man's waistband.]

We could take it back home. Nothing stopping us. Do you think...you could survive until then, though?

[ He's going to go mad, he thinks. He thinks of just pushing him over into the mass of blood and bodies, and making a mess of them even more than they already were. Like they were sinking into the gore all around them, a pair of monsters making a bed of their own sick, horrendous making.

His mouth goes dry, when he plays with his waistband, like he's tempted to not even listen to whatever he says, and start right now. Would it be enough? It was scandalous to think about, almost driving him to some kind of mad high, thinking about it. Drifting back into base covered in blood, gore, each other? What if someone saw them? Did he even care? ]

Hm... [ The tone was playful, for how short it was. He found the end of a scar at his abdomen, his nails scraping against it. ] Can you? [ he's so tempted to drift his fingers down, down, down.

They're both patient men.

He feels like he's been more than patient. ]

Haven't you had enough waiting?

[ Maybe he's just trying to goad him to join hands with him, and plummet into insanity with him? ]

[Hasn't he had enough waiting?]

[His kneejerk instinct is to say no. Of course not. He is well controlled. He is patient. He is not a slave to base emotions.]

[Lies, lies, lies. As if he hasn't had fretful thoughts about the man's teeth in his shoulder, or the knees pressing into his sides as they move in bed. Silco is not some gorgeous specimen of humanity, but he meant what he said that night, that he was beautiful. There's something about this man that screams addiction. There is that component that he does deserve this. Silco is a horrible man, and Vergilius seeks repentance for his sins.]

[But is this really repentance? With the way he enjoys it, isn't it just another way to sin?]

[Regardless, the taunt makes his heart rate flare up - his mind wavers between taking him home, taking him against the wall, dropping them both into the viscera - and he finds a middle ground. The table which these dead men were working on from before. It's splattered in blood, with a few bodies draped over it, but it doesn't matter.]

[With a rush of energy like anxiety, he's twisting them both to press Silco down against it. His hands are too rough as he's undoing his belt to start yanking his pants down, all while he bends in to capture his lips with a low growl of a noise. He's too hungry. What a problem that is.]

[ He grunted from the back of his throat, the moment his backside crashed against the table — hands moved to splay against the surface — his fingers brushed a dead man's, and he swatted them out of the way carelessly, one of them dropped to the floor unceremoniously as soon as he brushed the limb limb aside. It splashes in blood, but Silco doesn't give Vergilius a moment to contemplate it — if he even would — he drives his head upward, to offer another biting kiss, a soft groan to accompany it.

There's so much possibility right here, right now. He wants to tug at his lapels, make sure he keeps his gaze locked on him — he wants to help him, his fingers drifting down to make sure they're both exposed — he wants to do So many different things that it's making his head spin with indecision.

He'd thought about all of them, after all. How could he not? He hadn't been lying, that there'd been plenty of times that his traitorous brain, in an attempt to avoid sleep — maybe he shouldn't have indulged that first time — it's like a break in the dam, after so long not and now —

His fingers drift up to tug him close, making sure to keep him from drifting too far, so he can bite a line along his lips, chipped teeth threatening to rip at the skin there, as if he could take his due from him here, if he can't from his neck. He wants to do it, so he slips his knee between Vergilius's legs, it might even get in the way of his efforts, he doesn't care — not when he can press it against the weight of him there, nudging it with none of the gentleness of lovers. ]

[What a poison the mind is. What tender thoughts he had about Silco in the beginning and their stories about fatherhood and survival in a cruel world are still there. But the vampirism changed a lot of things. Introduced the concept of Silco underneath him, the concept of those beautiful noises gracing his ears again. He resisted the notion because they were simply thoughts. He didn't deserve them.]

[But here and now in the dizzying rush of things, its all painfully real. Thoughts can become reality. He can find those little nooks and crannies of Silco's body he had yet to pay attention to before. What a gift. The man presses his knee upwards, and Vergilius shifts his hips against it, feeling the spike of heat swelling as he adds to the friction. It does get in the way of his undressing. No matter. He will start working on Silco's belt instead.]

[The biting kisses make him gasp and hiss, his own kisses just as rough as he worries at those scarred lips. He will add scars. He hopes he does. Better these wounds to focus on than the bloody corpses around them.]

[He fumbles a bit, but one hamd manages to be sent ahead as the belt pops open, squeezing over his groin to coax him out.]

[ His fingers send a warm rush all the way down to meet them, he'd already felt his pants getting tighter (they were already tight) but he responded automatically to his fingers squeezing against him, a soft note breathed out against his lips. Involuntarily — traitoriously — his hips give away how much he wants it, slowly, hesitantly pressing up against his hand.

It's so dangerous to give so much away, whether it's what he wants, whether it's a need for pleasure, even being seen as wanting something is dangerous. It can all be taken away so easily, after all, can't it? Even here, even now, his traitorous little mind always has that nagging little piece, a whisper reminding him that if he knows he wants this — can it not be used against him? Would Vergilius?

He can swat the idle thought away — it was always there, would always be there — but right now there is solid wait pressing him down, and Vergilius's fingers were enough to keep his mind more occupied by this than... everything else. He keeps returning to this, his thoughts keep circling back around from the paranoia to his fingers wrapped around him, his mouth on him, the sting of his bites, or that way he looked at him. After all, he's suffered his sting, hasn't he? He still stole into his room like a looming specter and left these lingering thoughts and moments in his wake that he can't forget them.

He doesn't want to, he wants more of them. Another raspy groan against his lips, bites to accompany it, he moved his knee, a gentle rotation as if to draw more of him out, drive him just made enough to forget what logic was.

Forget where they were, or what they were doing in the midst of all of it, only the dead to witness it. ]

[Had Silco really desired him from when he had beheaded a man for him?]

[It had been weighing on his mind, a cool little stone in the hand he returned to hold and stroke again and again. Was that true? When the man's head went flying at the end of his blade, was there the thought of something like this in Silco's mind? The idea of Vergilius on him, skin to skin, taking bites hard enough to cause scandal? Was he imagining it then? Was this a revelation of a dream for him, then?]

[Time to make both their rotten dreams come true, then.]

[He dives his scarred fingers further in, grasps the man solidly. Another victory. But he refuses to take this nicely. A little vengeance is what is necessary - so he grasps the man's member solidly before he strokes him, thumb dragging behind as if to memorize every little space of it.]

[Want, want, want. This should be a one and done deal. This...should be. Vergilius feels his hips shift along the edge of his knee to follow that circular movement, the tent he's pressing almost becoming painful now with the arousal shooting into his belly.]

Enjoying...yourself?

[ Would it be so surprising, this man that had purchased his time to slaughter a room full of lackeys would find him beheading someone at his behest desireable? Would it be so surprising, this man who talked about monsters and power and strength would covet something like this? Silco had given him some of the pieces of his puzzle, but not all of them, maybe. He'd seen strength and a willingness to do, even if it ended in the death of another man. A guilty man, but were they not all guilty men in this realm?

Maybe Silco shouldn't be allowed these sorts of thoughts, but he had them all the same. He wanted those bites, marring his flesh — wanted to dole them out in return. Wanted to mark him and sink his claws into him like he can find a way to worm into that man he'd just seen slaughtering his way through a room. Vergilius had complained about Silco wanting to come along — that he wanted to watch, but...

Could he argue with the results?

His fingers grip the whole of him; stroking, his thumb making his cock twitch in response, and tipped his head back, exposing neck and his jaw open, practically tugging him forward, offering him as much exposed skin as his clothing would offer — he should have thought to take it off, should have thought not to wear his high collared shirts and ties —

He wanted more of that, he wanted to feel him against him, more than just that pleasant swell of heat against his knee. ]

Hm — [ He murmured. It's almost a groan. almost. ] — Could be better... [ He punctuated with his knee, as if serving as a reminder that he wasn't half as exposed.

As if he needed the reminder. Greedy, greedy. ]

[He can't argue the results at all. No, actually, he can. Can he? He never knows what to think, anymore. He himself is a bundle of contradictions. He wants to be touched, yet feels it is too much of a hypocritical thing to want. He desires connection, but shuns it all the same. He's a man. He's a monster. He has too many pretenses. He cannot know his own face.]

[So what can he fall back on, if what he has is a mess of things? All he can do now is just live in the moment, let himself feel. A selfish thing, he thinks, but he's too far gone. His heart, not wanting to bear the weight of his own painful guilt, shuts off. His body takes over. Silco prods against him, and he sighs - almost aggravated - before he pulls his hand back to pull his own pants down after some fumbling with the belt. Now, he's bare - half-hard, and still going - and he's not pausing. He attacks him again, hissing bites down his neck with a pure little moan.]

Touch me.

[As his own hand moves back to where it belongs, pumping him anew.]

[ Silco's little chuckle at the aggravated sigh is perhaps a dead giveaway, that he enjoys that — for all their little interplay, this little step of a game, he had enjoyed the moments where he seems to get under his skin, like he's able to twist him up to dance on his personal puppet strings.

He sounds annoyed and Silco's lips curl up in a slight pleased little quirk of his lips, his fingers lifted, aiming to take his hair and — ]

Demanding —

[ He chides, but his fingers redirect from where he'd been aiming, and slide down. His breath catches in his throat, with his fingers wrapped around him, more bites down his neck. It's sharp, and maybe that's the point. His fingers wrap around his cock, gripping just this side of tight, pumping slowly, as if it's begrudging.

The way he pressed his head against his, a half-insistent bid to tempt his lips away from his neck, back to where he can look at him. ]

[He almost wants to snap at that - and there is a flare of his eyes with that word as the man manages to get him to look back at him, face to face. His eyes glow with that eerie bright light, his face tight with concentration. Demanding, he says. As if he wasn't the one tormenting him with all of this. His apple of Eden. His damn snake.]

Bastard.

[He doesn't mean it, but he absolutely means it. There has never been a sweeter thorn in his side. He settles into that grip, pressing his hips against it for more friction - to the point that it brushes against his own hand rubbing over Silco below.]

[They move in tandem, in the midst of viscera and blood. He steals a kiss like a lover. He bites his lower lip like a thief in the night.]

[ He keeps his gaze, staring back at it with his two-toned, mismatched eyes. A study in contrasts. He doesn't shy away from his eerie eyes, he only meets them, his own dark and glowing pit of an eye to match his, to stare back, without blinking, always staring. His lips quirked, because he knows what he's doing. Silco is teasing, in his own way. Like he is digging in with temptation. As if to say: "And?"

A soft exhale against his lips, when he surges forward, biting his lips like it's all he can do — they will be more than raw tomorrow — but does he mind? Won't more be?

Can't he tease more out of the man? His mouth open against his, one eye staring directly at him while the other closes from the sheer, overwhelming feeling of it all. His fingers tightened around him, rocking to match his own hand, his grip shifts, tighter at the base, his thumb makes a motion against his head — a twist of his wrist. His hips lift, as if he's chasing sensation, chasing him just a bit more. ]

[Such a direct challenge in regular times would have warranted a violent reaction. To stand against a Color of the City would be paramount to spitting on Death's face.]

[And yet, he allows Silco this. Almost enjoys it, because all it does it makes his heart race from the gall of it. Even what they are doing now isn't making love. They're trying to put each other in their places, like rabid animals fighting for dominance.]

[The flick of his wrist is horrifically good - it makes him shake and shudder, a low moan dropping from his throat. Not to be outdone, he encircles the man's cock to slowly pump him, over and over, with a pressing strength as if he is milking the man and all his reactions.]

[He tastes blood between them as he licks his lips, keeps stealing kisses between the movement of his hand.]

Did you...expect this, Silco?

[ Had he expected it? Expected Vergilius to overlook a sea of blood and to slam him into a table, and pull him out like this? To lick another man's blood off his lips, while they touched each other? Had he expected that? ]

Hm —

[ It's not the usual sound, more a soft, drawn out little moan against his mouth. Not ashamed, but pleased, like he hadn't expected any of this, but he was pleased all the same.

Could he say that he had planned for this? Not quite, but from the soft moans against his lips, can he actually lie, and say that it hadn't been a stray thought in his mind? This specifically? Maybe not, but he'd been honest with the man, when he'd said what had drawn him in. Could he be surprised that he'd led him to a slaughter? Would it be so shocking, then, if he just — ]

No, but — [ his fingers tighten around the base of him, he shivered. His mouth dry, breathed a soft sound against his lips, hot breath mingling with the wet sound, his whole body shudders, his free hand reached out to grip his shoulder, fingers gripping like it was the only thing he could hold onto. His hand on his cock is drawing him out, his one eye closed while the other rolls back slightly, his hips rocking to meet his hand. Oh, it's not what he'd expected, but... ] — I can be surprised, Vergilius —

[ His fingers are going slack, he can barely keep up with him though he still tries, breathing hot, surprised gasps into his mouth, before he bit down on his lip while his body shivered, and he spilled all over his hand. ]

[Can he? It always felt like Silco had the upper hand. A beautiful little spider waiting for flies to fall into his trap. Then again, part of him thinks that the cookie incident from before wasn't exactly...planned. Maybe it was? Hard to say, with Silco. A schemer if he ever saw one. He hated him for it. Where did the lies start and the man ended?]

[Well. Perhaps it ended here. Silco had been as vulnerable as he had ever been, in their vicious marathon from before, but that didn't come from true circumstances. This? This was reality. The man with his hair unruly, his mouth gasping with pleasure, his hips jutting up fiercely.]

[The man who spills himself all over his hand and abdomen must be the real Silco.]

[And he gets to have this all for himself.]

[The wave of possessiveness almost bowls him over. The bite even more so. He grits into it, a fierce kiss to stake his claim, before he thrusts harshly into the man's grip. Another few movements, and a moan-]

[And he's finding his own peak, his whole body shaking with unrestrained, selfish pleasure. He won't simply stay here and moan, though - for he's kissing him with a fervency that burns them both. He kisses him as if he will never have him to hold again.]

[ He rides it out, they both ride it out together, fingers tightening around each other, hips bucking, the too-honest gasps that slipped free from his mouth, disseminating into soft moans breathed against Vergilius's lips — it feels so much like he's being held down. Like he's worried that Silco might vanish underneath him now that he's had his fingers around him. Like he's something that might disappear if he isn't careful.

His heart pounds a little harder, blood rushing to his head, through his ears, like he couldn't hear a thing. Something about thinking that he's being held down — like he's something to keep from leaving makes that tightness in his chest from his heart pounding even tighter. He reached up with his free hand to brush those bangs back again, so he could stare at him, unimpeded, while he kissed him.

Did he know, how he wasn't lying? Here? Now? Oh, an idle fantasy was little compared to the real thing, and the real thing was so much better. He felt possessed, or maybe simply tied down, just from the bulk of him.

It might be the way he kisses, or maybe it's the way his fingers stay locked around him, but Silco can't help but shift underneath him, letting him milk more out of him — as if he could with the mess that they've both already made on themselves.

He doesn't want to leave, maybe they should — he isn't ready to move anywhere — but it was a bit of a trek back to base, and eventually the next shift would come. They needed to be out of here before then, cleaned up. Unless Vergilius would kill the next lot of them too.

Could he handle watching him again like that so soon? Oh, he didn't know if he could. He almost wanted to anyway. ]

[It's too good - and this is him at his most honest, he feels. No excuses, nothing to blame. He wanted this. All this time, he wanted Silco with a greed he didn't know he was capable of. Even as his body starts to calm down, aftershocks shuddering down his spine, the way Silco moves as if to pull more out of him almost makes him go mad.]

[He doesn't even feel he can recognize himself like this. Messed up, bloody, with warm fluids caked between them. And he's terrified that...he doesn't mind it. Or course, regret beats like a drum at all times, but there's no crushing guilt. Not yet. Simply warmth that does not abate.]

[He pants, pressing against the man's forehead with his own. A rare little smile crosses his face as his kisses become a little more clipped, teasing.]

Pretty little one. There you are.

[As if saying welcome home to an old friend.]

[ It's disgusting. It's fantastic. He feels like the edge is abated, but at the same time, he feels like it's just out of sight, ready to lurch forward if he just relaxes for a moment. If he lets him in again. He shouldn't — but he was so greedy, and his fingers stayed wrapped around him, even as he went soft in his hands. He could just hold him here.

One of his eyes is still closed, he feels like if he dares open it, he'll break the spell. Like whatever is suspended between them will dissipate if he breaks it, or if he pulls away too soon, or — or — or —

They're pressed together, forehead to forehead. His lips quirk, he's still breathing too hard. He finally braved it, he opened his other eye to look up at him, to take in the details. He doesn't think he's seen that many smiles on his face; there's a slight realization that this one might be for him. How odd. To cause that. ]

Missed me, did you?

[ They literally haven't stopped talking. It's not like they haven't been taking the steps through this little dance; a game that only they're playing. It doesn't matter, this is different, isn't it? Like the dance is finally over, the winners determined — except there are no winners, or maybe they're both winners.

Maybe it doesn't matter, for once, which of them won out first, if they were both here like this? ]

[They are both winners. This is akin to a draw, but they both revel in their rewards. Vergilius is loathe to let go so soon. He doesn't know why - maybe he's worried this will just be as temporary as it feels the other times were. A fluke, nothing more.]

[And so, even though he usually keeps his feeling under grumpy lock and key, a little sincerity spills out. His body feels raw. He wants to keep swallowing those breaths when I can.]

And what if I said I did? What then?

[Would that change anything? Would Silco move away? Is it too much? Would it scare him off?]

[He kisses him, hand moving to stroke gently through his hair.]

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😑 nsfw...............

hate them

RATTLES THEM!!!

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