WHO: Silco & Others WHAT: 2025 Catch-all π WHERE: the world is our oyster WHEN: Day or night WARNINGS: blanket warning for drug references, other subjects will be warned for in threads
[ 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 β traitoriously β 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 β can it not be used against him? Would Vergilius?
He can swat the idle thought away β it was always there, would always be there β 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.]
[ 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 β 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 β 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 β he should have thought to take it off, should have thought not to wear his high collared shirts and ties β
He wanted more of that, he wanted to feel him against him, more than just that pleasant swell of heat against his knee. ]
Hm β [ He murmured. It's almost a groan. almost. ] β Could be better... [ He punctuated with his knee, as if serving as a reminder that he wasn't half as exposed.
[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 β 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 β ]
Demanding β
[ 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 β they will be more than raw tomorrow β 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 β 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.]
[ 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 β
[ 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 β ]
No, but β [ 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... ] β I can be surprised, Vergilius β
[ 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 β 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 β 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 β as if he could with the mess that they've both already made on themselves.
He doesn't want to leave, maybe they should β he isn't ready to move anywhere β 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.]
[ 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 β 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 β or β or β
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 β 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.]
[ It's a split pot, split right down the middle for them both to reap the rewards β and Silco is loathe to let the moment pass any more than he is. His lips stay almost linked to his, sincerity falls on both of them like ill-fitting coats, but maybe a shred of it isn't terrible to share between them. Like a secret only they can hear between them.
Vulnerability is something that feels like a knife on his sternum, but even still he thinks it might cut pleasantly. ]
Then I would say it took you long enough.
[ Maybe he should have been more guarded. Maybe he should keep their game going β dancing back and forth, toeing that line over and over. Then again, if he did, would he have this again? Their fingers wrapped around each other, his hand in his hair? Was he just going to keep playing at having nothing, when he could have something like this in contrast? Wasn't it better?
He reached up to brush those bangs out of his face with his free hand, biting a line on his bottom lip. ]
[Perhaps Malkuth is somewhat to blame for this. He removed himself from her life, wanting better for her, thinking he would never be the best to choose. His own doubts, his self-esteem held him back. He dabbled in selfishness. Had some warmth to hold and have, and in the end, when he couldn't see the end line with her, he pulled himself back.]
[So what is this? Maybe part of it us because he was so thirsty for what he missed. The hot nights, the gentle touches. He always wants what he can't have. So, again, what is this? A moment of weakness?]
[Or maybe, a moment of strength? He doesn't know right now. He now sees the sight of what is around them, the blood he's spilled. Like a guilty child, he wants to avert his gaze, bury his head away.]
[For this moment, he can hold Silco, banter with him, kiss him, fuck him, and its better. It's better than his own misery waiting around the corner. And the realization he has?]
[He could do this again, and nothing could stop him.]
[Silco bites his lower lip, and he sighs, welcoming it.]
...You weren't half bad. [A glowing compliment, from him. He's moving to kiss a line up the man's cheek and jawline.] Maybe you were well worth the wait.
[ Before, it had been a part of the game. Refusing to acknowledge what they'd done, Silco had been plenty willing to accept that he may have even been sub-par, given... well. How long it had been, and the circumstances around it. It was something he'd just accepted, after the cookie incident. There had been little after beyond insults β easy to trade, quick to rise to the surface.
The cracks, though, they'd been showing. The Mistletoe, the way he sometimes seemed to almost...almost make it across that line. Silco had been no more willing than Vergilius to dance over it, not really. Maybe they just needed the honesty of violence to spark it, or maybe it had just been time.
It wasn't lost time, just an extension of it.
But now that the bubble had burst? It was... hm. ]
Is that so? [ He starts to pull his other hand away.
It's starting to reek of death, now that they're not heated in the moment. ] You're not going to wait so long next time, are you? Or am I going to have to make a habit of hunting down more gangs to eliminate?
[ He would, he thought. Maybe that's selfish, hell, maybe it means he's particularly weak. Maybe it means that he's a foolish man. It could be all of them. It's not something Silco thought would happen, truly, but here he is, pushed up underneath the man with all of his weight pressing down, and he can't help but think that he wouldn't mind that again, and again, and again. ]
[It is a tease from Silco, he realizes that, but even so, he echoes it not with doubt, but almost wonder. Next time. The two words hold a weight that threatens to drown him if he thinks about it too long. Like a string, pulling him into the center of an abhorrent little labyrinth. Silco, the monster at the center.]
[How very honest. How very dark. They danced, and now they're here, and they can never, ever go back.]
You make it seem like doing this gets me off. [He muses for a moment - his red eyes glance to the sides, their hue almost in mimicry of the spilled blood, drying on floor and ceiling and walls.] I would hope that you don't think so low of me.
[A sigh. He steals another kiss, as if he can't help himself, like a fool tripping into a minefield.]
[ It's not chiding, but it is teasing. He doesn't mind, being surrounded by blood and death, but one can't take five steps in the Undercity without encountering some atrocity or another. It's starting to reek, but there are distractions that keep his attention focused on Vergilius, on the fact that he keeps leaning in, keeps pressing lips to his.
Like it's easy. Like he can. It has none of the surge that they'd had earlier, none of the desperation.
Like he can just take them, and Silco won't protest β he hasn't yet, has he? ]
I would hate to come up with another reason to hire you, just to get you alone again. [ He leans forward, saying it against his lips, a twitch of his own as if it's almost a smile. Teasing. He stares at his red eyes, the blood is dull by comparison. ]
[As if Silco is a predator, ready to strike in the right circumstances. He doesn't know how he feels about it. As if one day he could be on his lonesome, Silco would step out, they would embrace, they would kiss one another, and then-]
[One thing would lead to another. And it would happen again. And again. Because doing this? Neither of them have had their satisfaction satiated for good, have they?]
Well. You could just approach me for no reason. Unless you're scared.
[Another tease in return. It's taking some willpower not to descend on him again, go another round for the sake of it. No. He did a job. They are surrounded by death. He has to detach himself.]
[ Back to the game, then. Not that he would mind that much, it's not interesting β too routine β if the man just slips into his room night after night. If they spent whatever time they wanted wrapped up in one another. Silco may be... amenable to the man (nice way to say it, sure) but they both knew the stakes here. He'd bitten him that night in the castle, after all. Vergilius had wrapped his fingers around his throat. They'd drank from one another, and poked each other's wounds,
There was nothing, if the game didn't exist for them. Silco might even need it, though he would hardly admit it to even himself.
He let him detach, he watched him do it. They would need to clean up. His kerchief is already stiff from drying blood in his pocket. ]
Haven't I proven you wrong every time you've tried that?
[ He asked, his voice low. He leaned up to follow him, his hands reaching out to tug him back to meet him, where he could bite at his lips again, speaking against his lips when he did so. ]
[He pulls back, like a wave. Silco rises, like the tide. He's grasped, pulled forward, and his lips are captured once more. His words come as a vicious threat, or perhaps a promise for more.]
[Vergilius's own lips pull back, a practical snarl.]
Goading, now? [An exhaled sigh against his lips, though his tone feels tense, like a held sword. His own hand reaches up to scruff the man's collar, as if to pull him off but the grip stiffens.] Big brave Silco. If you want what you want, then take it. I never knew you for hesitation. Do it, and I shall match in kind, hm?
[ They each grip at each other, snarling and snapping, lips peeled back like predators. Only moments before there had been actual kisses, touches that were too-tight but needy. The dance has steps that must be followed. Silco's lips twitch into one of those nasty smiles, his head tilted, to stare up and into his eyes, and meet his gaze. ]
Careful what you give me permission to take, Vergilius.
[ He let go of his collar, to wrap his hand around the back of his neck, fingers clawing there, as if he had the strength to hold him in place. His lips are against his, sharp with exposed teeth, but his mouth moves against his as he speaks. ]
I may just take all of you, if you're not careful.
[How easy they fall into this - like it's their latent nature, impossible to deny. No, this is why they can never be sweet lovers. Silco's fingers dig in, and part of it is laughable. As if that could do anything. He has the image of taking that hand, ripping it off, and beating him over the head with it.]
[He doesn't do any of the sort. The warm stains from before now are cold and sticky, the scent of death is making him flare his nostrils.]
[He's never hated himself more than this.]
And what does that mean? [He doesn't back off, his teeth scraping against the other's already worn lips.] My body? My brain? The heart I don't have? What do you want?
[ Isn't that the question? He is a greedy maw, holding him close like this. It's hardly enough, but Silco doesn't need strength to keep him in place. Isn't that what he'd told him once, in a dark castle, covered in blood? That he hadn't needed strength like that, to be powerful in his eyes? He stays locked in at his fingers, even if it's starting to smell, even if Silco would rather wipe his hands off, and tuck themselves away. They should do this back on base β but at the same time...
His fingers remained at the back of his head, half-digging in β nails making crescents on skin β and half a thumb brushing against the fine hairs at the nape of his neck.
He was so greedy that he thought he would like to consume all of him. ]
Perhaps I want everything. [ A teasing bite at his lips. ] You're the one telling me to take it.
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RATTLES THEM!!!
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 β can it not be used against him? Would Vergilius?
He can swat the idle thought away β it was always there, would always be there β 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. ]
no subject
[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?
no subject
Maybe Silco shouldn't be allowed these sorts of thoughts, but he had them all the same. He wanted those bites, marring his flesh β 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 β 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 β he should have thought to take it off, should have thought not to wear his high collared shirts and ties β
He wanted more of that, he wanted to feel him against him, more than just that pleasant swell of heat against his knee. ]
Hm β [ He murmured. It's almost a groan. almost. ] β 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. ]
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[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.]
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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 β ]
Demanding β
[ 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. ]
no subject
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.]
no subject
A soft exhale against his lips, when he surges forward, biting his lips like it's all he can do β they will be more than raw tomorrow β 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 β a twist of his wrist. His hips lift, as if he's chasing sensation, chasing him just a bit more. ]
no subject
[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?
no subject
Hm β
[ 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 β ]
No, but β [ 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... ] β I can be surprised, Vergilius β
[ 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. ]
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[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.]
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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 β 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 β as if he could with the mess that they've both already made on themselves.
He doesn't want to leave, maybe they should β he isn't ready to move anywhere β 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. ]
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[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.]
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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 β or β or β
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 β 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? ]
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[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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Vulnerability is something that feels like a knife on his sternum, but even still he thinks it might cut pleasantly. ]
Then I would say it took you long enough.
[ Maybe he should have been more guarded. Maybe he should keep their game going β dancing back and forth, toeing that line over and over. Then again, if he did, would he have this again? Their fingers wrapped around each other, his hand in his hair? Was he just going to keep playing at having nothing, when he could have something like this in contrast? Wasn't it better?
He reached up to brush those bangs out of his face with his free hand, biting a line on his bottom lip. ]
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[So what is this? Maybe part of it us because he was so thirsty for what he missed. The hot nights, the gentle touches. He always wants what he can't have. So, again, what is this? A moment of weakness?]
[Or maybe, a moment of strength? He doesn't know right now. He now sees the sight of what is around them, the blood he's spilled. Like a guilty child, he wants to avert his gaze, bury his head away.]
[For this moment, he can hold Silco, banter with him, kiss him, fuck him, and its better. It's better than his own misery waiting around the corner. And the realization he has?]
[He could do this again, and nothing could stop him.]
[Silco bites his lower lip, and he sighs, welcoming it.]
...You weren't half bad. [A glowing compliment, from him. He's moving to kiss a line up the man's cheek and jawline.] Maybe you were well worth the wait.
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[ Before, it had been a part of the game. Refusing to acknowledge what they'd done, Silco had been plenty willing to accept that he may have even been sub-par, given... well. How long it had been, and the circumstances around it. It was something he'd just accepted, after the cookie incident. There had been little after beyond insults β easy to trade, quick to rise to the surface.
The cracks, though, they'd been showing. The Mistletoe, the way he sometimes seemed to almost...almost make it across that line. Silco had been no more willing than Vergilius to dance over it, not really. Maybe they just needed the honesty of violence to spark it, or maybe it had just been time.
It wasn't lost time, just an extension of it.
But now that the bubble had burst? It was... hm. ]
Is that so? [ He starts to pull his other hand away.
It's starting to reek of death, now that they're not heated in the moment. ] You're not going to wait so long next time, are you? Or am I going to have to make a habit of hunting down more gangs to eliminate?
[ He would, he thought. Maybe that's selfish, hell, maybe it means he's particularly weak. Maybe it means that he's a foolish man. It could be all of them. It's not something Silco thought would happen, truly, but here he is, pushed up underneath the man with all of his weight pressing down, and he can't help but think that he wouldn't mind that again, and again, and again. ]
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[It is a tease from Silco, he realizes that, but even so, he echoes it not with doubt, but almost wonder. Next time. The two words hold a weight that threatens to drown him if he thinks about it too long. Like a string, pulling him into the center of an abhorrent little labyrinth. Silco, the monster at the center.]
[How very honest. How very dark. They danced, and now they're here, and they can never, ever go back.]
You make it seem like doing this gets me off. [He muses for a moment - his red eyes glance to the sides, their hue almost in mimicry of the spilled blood, drying on floor and ceiling and walls.] I would hope that you don't think so low of me.
[A sigh. He steals another kiss, as if he can't help himself, like a fool tripping into a minefield.]
Should I say... "we'll see"?
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[ It's not chiding, but it is teasing. He doesn't mind, being surrounded by blood and death, but one can't take five steps in the Undercity without encountering some atrocity or another. It's starting to reek, but there are distractions that keep his attention focused on Vergilius, on the fact that he keeps leaning in, keeps pressing lips to his.
Like it's easy. Like he can. It has none of the surge that they'd had earlier, none of the desperation.
Like he can just take them, and Silco won't protest β he hasn't yet, has he? ]
I would hate to come up with another reason to hire you, just to get you alone again. [ He leans forward, saying it against his lips, a twitch of his own as if it's almost a smile. Teasing. He stares at his red eyes, the blood is dull by comparison. ]
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[As if Silco is a predator, ready to strike in the right circumstances. He doesn't know how he feels about it. As if one day he could be on his lonesome, Silco would step out, they would embrace, they would kiss one another, and then-]
[One thing would lead to another. And it would happen again. And again. Because doing this? Neither of them have had their satisfaction satiated for good, have they?]
Well. You could just approach me for no reason. Unless you're scared.
[Another tease in return. It's taking some willpower not to descend on him again, go another round for the sake of it. No. He did a job. They are surrounded by death. He has to detach himself.]
[He's starting to pull away, almost reluctant.]
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[ Back to the game, then. Not that he would mind that much, it's not interesting β too routine β if the man just slips into his room night after night. If they spent whatever time they wanted wrapped up in one another. Silco may be... amenable to the man (nice way to say it, sure) but they both knew the stakes here. He'd bitten him that night in the castle, after all. Vergilius had wrapped his fingers around his throat. They'd drank from one another, and poked each other's wounds,
There was nothing, if the game didn't exist for them. Silco might even need it, though he would hardly admit it to even himself.
He let him detach, he watched him do it. They would need to clean up. His kerchief is already stiff from drying blood in his pocket. ]
Haven't I proven you wrong every time you've tried that?
[ He asked, his voice low. He leaned up to follow him, his hands reaching out to tug him back to meet him, where he could bite at his lips again, speaking against his lips when he did so. ]
Or are you still going to keep goading me?
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[Vergilius's own lips pull back, a practical snarl.]
Goading, now? [An exhaled sigh against his lips, though his tone feels tense, like a held sword. His own hand reaches up to scruff the man's collar, as if to pull him off but the grip stiffens.] Big brave Silco. If you want what you want, then take it. I never knew you for hesitation. Do it, and I shall match in kind, hm?
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[ They each grip at each other, snarling and snapping, lips peeled back like predators. Only moments before there had been actual kisses, touches that were too-tight but needy. The dance has steps that must be followed. Silco's lips twitch into one of those nasty smiles, his head tilted, to stare up and into his eyes, and meet his gaze. ]
Careful what you give me permission to take, Vergilius.
[ He let go of his collar, to wrap his hand around the back of his neck, fingers clawing there, as if he had the strength to hold him in place. His lips are against his, sharp with exposed teeth, but his mouth moves against his as he speaks. ]
I may just take all of you, if you're not careful.
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[He doesn't do any of the sort. The warm stains from before now are cold and sticky, the scent of death is making him flare his nostrils.]
[He's never hated himself more than this.]
And what does that mean? [He doesn't back off, his teeth scraping against the other's already worn lips.] My body? My brain? The heart I don't have? What do you want?
i close my eyes
His fingers remained at the back of his head, half-digging in β nails making crescents on skin β and half a thumb brushing against the fine hairs at the nape of his neck.
He was so greedy that he thought he would like to consume all of him. ]
Perhaps I want everything. [ A teasing bite at his lips. ] You're the one telling me to take it.
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why in the FUCk are they
me exploding silco and verg with my mind.gif
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π