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
[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.
His greedy maw, maybe he wants to break him into little pieces, and see what he can dig out from the remains, like tossing dice and seeing if he can win from the toss β a toss with loaded die, carefully putting things in place, like he can make something out from him. Tugging him down into this muck with him.
Or maybe just another weight on the rest of it, to keep him in the muck. Keep them both drowning in it. ]
Do you think I would make light of this?
[ 'Of you?' Hangs in the air, like a weighted blade hanging in the air over their heads. ]
[Once upon a time, they laid side by side in a bed and held each other's hands. It had been so deceptively simple, then.]
[Now, its a real mess. Like a bundle of blood vessels tied together in a tangle, fit to burst. He can't detach from Silco as easily as he would like, and he knows Silco knows that. Has him pinned like a butterfly in a box.]
[Silco bites him. His hand, at his collar, slides down to press over his chest. Over where his heart is, or should be. Do monsters have hearts?]
[His eyes search Silco's, almost a little imploring as he whispers back.]
...We talked about understanding each other, once. [In a dark hallway, their mouths filled with blood.] Is this that? Or simply pleasures of the flesh?
[ Their mouths don't have each others blood this time, but for all that they have shared each others breath, maybe that's something different. Just as present. He stares back at him, that ever open eye as wide as ever, like he can stare back at him, like he can see right through him. He wants some kind of answer that makes it all make sense.
He's not a kind monster, but they have not fully separated. He can be an honest monster, between them, now, in this space. ]
There is nothing simple about this, is there?
[ Between them? Silco still could hardly believe he'd done this. Excuses β and there were plenty of them β aside, when he had none left, could he say that he would seek simple pleasure?
Fingers dug into the back of his neck, he doesn't bite this time, but their lips are still so close. ]
This has always been about understanding each other.
[ mumble mumble understanding as a stand in for whatever else this was mumble mumble. ]
[Is that it? He has some doubts. It doesn't feel like understanding - surely their in-depth talks is more evidence of it versus something as heated and lustful as fucking each other in the midst of a massacre. He doesn't know what to believe, anymore. Maybe this is how monsters should understand each other. It definitely feels like they've pried their dirty fingers under each other's skin, didn't balk at what they've seen.]
[Silco's hand holds him steady. His eyes flicker downwards, catching the sight of their cocks still out, the slick stain against Silco's abdomen. Is this understanding?]
Ha.
[A sigh against his lips - they brush against each other, like paraphrasing a kiss. There are no excuses. His fingers twist once more in the man's vest, tormented.]
You want me to belong to you, don't you? Do you want to belong to me?
[ Maybe it is seeking simple pleasure, he doesn't think it is. Silco has had plenty of opportunity to do so, and yet he didn't. He didn't seek it out, he didn't feel the need to, but yet he seems to get wrapped up in to things with him -- it's like there's a need to consume him like he's a living furnace. He has peeled back his skin, and seen what is underneath.
The monster inside is tempting. He sees the shape of it, and it makes him want more and more of him. To pull him apart and sift through the pieces. Again, and again. Every way he can.
Did he just simply like this? Was he excusing base urges for something bigger? Or was it all the same thing? Didn't he want to understand all of him? Didn't he want to be understood by him? Wasn't this all the same? What else could it be? Base lust?
No, he wasn't the type. He didn't think Vergilius was either. So understanding, it has to be, then. Right?
Is there any other excuse for what this is? So vulnerable, with the two of them still bared, still messy, like they haven't quite stepped out of the fugue state that had descended over them. ]
I told you before, isn't that what understanding is? [ One of those conversations, where is seemed like they were half trying to cut each other, and half winding together like wrought iron. ]
Belonging?
[ He says the word against his lips, like it is an oath. His fingers dig in like he is worming his way into him. Like he can settle underneath like poison. ]
[He's already settled underneath him. He's already poisoned him. He's already doomed, he feels. There's nothing to protect him, here. He might as well have opened his shirt and showed the man his chest to take a knife to.]
[Understanding is belonging. To belong is to understand. Was that why Malkuth couldn't work out? Because as much as they wanted to belong, they couldn't really understand each other? Does that mean, with something like this, that Silco can understand him better? Or understand him at all? Sometimes it feels like he's far off base. Sometimes it feels like he sees something that isn't there.]
[There's a selfish little worm in his heart, and it says, ah, but it's the same the other way around, isn't it?. It's not just about Silco holding him in his hand. He has the same control over him, has Silco in a way nobody else in this world can have.]
[He pauses, his red eyes trembling in his sockets like flickering flames, before he crosses what little space is in between them to steal a proper kiss, sighing into it like he's had a small weight tipped off his shoulders (there still is so much left).]
[ It feels like a kiss to seal something, like he is being made to swallow something, a bit of that weight upended onto him, so that he can burn it up and consume it. Silco has his own burdens, but they are not something he recognizes, not something he feels like Vergilius feels. He takes it gladly, something searing and painful, teeth and tongue when he kisses back. Raw, sharp edges.
Silco doesn't sigh, but he breathes out through his nose, like there's a finality to it, his fingers still digging in, still holding him close. Is there an end to it, the poison? How much can they share before the is equilibrium? How much should they share? Could they corrupt each other both ways, or will one win out over the other? He knows there are still soft parts to this monster before him, weaknesses, but can he dig into those, or will his own reveal something dark and deep that he will take in kind? Vergilius always knows his greatest weakness, the spot that Silco will always protect carefully.
It's shared, though, between the two of them. That weakness. ]
Oh, Vergilius -- [ He says it against his lips. ] -- I do not make decisions I regret.
[ He finally relaxed his fingers at his neck, to instead brush his bangs from his eyes, to see those flickering flames unimpeded. His own stares back, unwavering. He wonders if he sees it, understands yet, how much he has wormed in as well? How much Silco is just as tied to this as he is? He's given him too much now, he could use it anytime. It's so much of himself in the aim of understanding, that maybe it's edging towards something different. ]
[A kiss to seal a union of two men who belong to the Inferno, to hell itself.]
[He always likes kissing Silco. The uneven teeth, the way he's so eager to bite and leave his mark. It makes him feel alive, at least a little bit. A spark of something more than just a wallowing self-misery and burning wrath.]
[They're only men, in the end. That's what he's realized about Silco, no matter how monstrous he is. A monster wouldn't sincerely enjoy this, wouldn't bear his weakness like this in exchange for his own. In the end, man is the cruelest animal, isn't it?]
Hm. [The bangs are brushed back, his red gaze without cover. Silco always stares into his eyes. He likes that.] I guess we'll see where that decision takes you. Takes us.
[ He's always tried to be a monster, since that first moment he'd slipped out of the water, reborn a new man, scarred and broken, he wanted to be the monster that was created in that baptism. Underneath it all, he's still just a man, weak as any of them. Weaker, even, than he projected, with that hateful eye and sharp edges. He cuts, and gnashes his teeth, and lunges out violently, and protects those soft, weak spots.
Here it is, they're exposed. This might be a poor idea. Silco knows the cost, oh so intimately of what happens when trust is destroyed, or dashed aside. He lives it, his unblinking eye and the scar surrounding it the price he paid for it once.
He stares into his eyes anyway. His gaze is just as eerie as Vergilius's. Sometimes, it feels a little bit like seeing his own strangeness looking back at him. His lips twitched, almost a smile. Almost, before it's drug back down underneath the waves. ]
Perhaps we will. [ A beat, and: ] First, I think it should take us back to base, don't you think? Before this...mess is found?
[If only he could drag that smile back out and make it stay. Ah, well. Small victories where he can have them.]
[Small victories, instead of massive losses. They know what it means to lose.]
[A little sigh, as he nods in agreement, moving back off of Silco. He grimaces a little, swiping himself off to smear it on the table before he rezips himself. The laundry will absolutely be his go-to after this.]
Let's go, then. I suppose you don't need an escort?
[ He does the same, although he uses a kerchief, and tucks it into his pocket. It's already stiff with blood, but he may as well. It's ruined as it is. ]
Is the job done if I don't get back safe?
[ His eyebrow lifted, as if there's an implication of a deeper question there. Maybe there is. Maybe he just doesn't expect to take a separate way back. To be fair, they're going to the same place. ]
[He really could just say no. It's easy for him, anyways. He is becoming overly conscious of the scene around them, wine-red blood splattered on every surface. Vergilius swallows.]
[ Less one of his usual soft half-grunts, this one was more thoughtful than most were.
His hand is not heavy β it is a pressing weight at his back β he looked over his shoulder at him, his good eye focused on him for a moment, and he lifted his eyebrow, in silent communication. Saying something he wasn't going to say out loud, even as he didn't hesitate to move. ]
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no subject
[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.
crying
[The gentle touch scraping up his neck and scalp make him close his eyes for a moment, shivering. His own warnings feel so close and yet so far away.]
[What is he, in the long run of things? A man, a monster, a Fixer, a guilty sinner? Should he put a label to it?]
[Does it matter to Silco, who wants it all? This black hole of a man?]
Will your hunger ever be sated? You bastard.
[He says, voice now a hoarse whisper, as he sucks a little on his lower lip. His face feels like it's twitching.]
You're not joking, are you.
why in the FUCk are they
[ He murmurs into his mouth.
His greedy maw, maybe he wants to break him into little pieces, and see what he can dig out from the remains, like tossing dice and seeing if he can win from the toss β a toss with loaded die, carefully putting things in place, like he can make something out from him. Tugging him down into this muck with him.
Or maybe just another weight on the rest of it, to keep him in the muck. Keep them both drowning in it. ]
Do you think I would make light of this?
[ 'Of you?' Hangs in the air, like a weighted blade hanging in the air over their heads. ]
By now, you know me better than that.
[ With another bite, a teasing nip this time. ]
me exploding silco and verg with my mind.gif
[Now, its a real mess. Like a bundle of blood vessels tied together in a tangle, fit to burst. He can't detach from Silco as easily as he would like, and he knows Silco knows that. Has him pinned like a butterfly in a box.]
[Silco bites him. His hand, at his collar, slides down to press over his chest. Over where his heart is, or should be. Do monsters have hearts?]
[His eyes search Silco's, almost a little imploring as he whispers back.]
...We talked about understanding each other, once. [In a dark hallway, their mouths filled with blood.] Is this that? Or simply pleasures of the flesh?
no subject
[ Their mouths don't have each others blood this time, but for all that they have shared each others breath, maybe that's something different. Just as present. He stares back at him, that ever open eye as wide as ever, like he can stare back at him, like he can see right through him. He wants some kind of answer that makes it all make sense.
He's not a kind monster, but they have not fully separated. He can be an honest monster, between them, now, in this space. ]
There is nothing simple about this, is there?
[ Between them? Silco still could hardly believe he'd done this. Excuses β and there were plenty of them β aside, when he had none left, could he say that he would seek simple pleasure?
Fingers dug into the back of his neck, he doesn't bite this time, but their lips are still so close. ]
This has always been about understanding each other.
[ mumble mumble understanding as a stand in for whatever else this was mumble mumble. ]
no subject
[Is that it? He has some doubts. It doesn't feel like understanding - surely their in-depth talks is more evidence of it versus something as heated and lustful as fucking each other in the midst of a massacre. He doesn't know what to believe, anymore. Maybe this is how monsters should understand each other. It definitely feels like they've pried their dirty fingers under each other's skin, didn't balk at what they've seen.]
[Silco's hand holds him steady. His eyes flicker downwards, catching the sight of their cocks still out, the slick stain against Silco's abdomen. Is this understanding?]
Ha.
[A sigh against his lips - they brush against each other, like paraphrasing a kiss. There are no excuses. His fingers twist once more in the man's vest, tormented.]
You want me to belong to you, don't you? Do you want to belong to me?
no subject
[ Maybe it is seeking simple pleasure, he doesn't think it is. Silco has had plenty of opportunity to do so, and yet he didn't. He didn't seek it out, he didn't feel the need to, but yet he seems to get wrapped up in to things with him -- it's like there's a need to consume him like he's a living furnace. He has peeled back his skin, and seen what is underneath.
The monster inside is tempting. He sees the shape of it, and it makes him want more and more of him. To pull him apart and sift through the pieces. Again, and again. Every way he can.
Did he just simply like this? Was he excusing base urges for something bigger? Or was it all the same thing? Didn't he want to understand all of him? Didn't he want to be understood by him? Wasn't this all the same? What else could it be? Base lust?
No, he wasn't the type. He didn't think Vergilius was either. So understanding, it has to be, then. Right?
Is there any other excuse for what this is? So vulnerable, with the two of them still bared, still messy, like they haven't quite stepped out of the fugue state that had descended over them. ]
I told you before, isn't that what understanding is? [ One of those conversations, where is seemed like they were half trying to cut each other, and half winding together like wrought iron. ]
Belonging?
[ He says the word against his lips, like it is an oath. His fingers dig in like he is worming his way into him. Like he can settle underneath like poison. ]
no subject
[Understanding is belonging. To belong is to understand. Was that why Malkuth couldn't work out? Because as much as they wanted to belong, they couldn't really understand each other? Does that mean, with something like this, that Silco can understand him better? Or understand him at all? Sometimes it feels like he's far off base. Sometimes it feels like he sees something that isn't there.]
[There's a selfish little worm in his heart, and it says, ah, but it's the same the other way around, isn't it?. It's not just about Silco holding him in his hand. He has the same control over him, has Silco in a way nobody else in this world can have.]
[He pauses, his red eyes trembling in his sockets like flickering flames, before he crosses what little space is in between them to steal a proper kiss, sighing into it like he's had a small weight tipped off his shoulders (there still is so much left).]
As long as you don't regret it.
[Please don't.]
no subject
Silco doesn't sigh, but he breathes out through his nose, like there's a finality to it, his fingers still digging in, still holding him close. Is there an end to it, the poison? How much can they share before the is equilibrium? How much should they share? Could they corrupt each other both ways, or will one win out over the other? He knows there are still soft parts to this monster before him, weaknesses, but can he dig into those, or will his own reveal something dark and deep that he will take in kind? Vergilius always knows his greatest weakness, the spot that Silco will always protect carefully.
It's shared, though, between the two of them. That weakness. ]
Oh, Vergilius -- [ He says it against his lips. ] -- I do not make decisions I regret.
[ He finally relaxed his fingers at his neck, to instead brush his bangs from his eyes, to see those flickering flames unimpeded. His own stares back, unwavering. He wonders if he sees it, understands yet, how much he has wormed in as well? How much Silco is just as tied to this as he is? He's given him too much now, he could use it anytime. It's so much of himself in the aim of understanding, that maybe it's edging towards something different. ]
no subject
[He always likes kissing Silco. The uneven teeth, the way he's so eager to bite and leave his mark. It makes him feel alive, at least a little bit. A spark of something more than just a wallowing self-misery and burning wrath.]
[They're only men, in the end. That's what he's realized about Silco, no matter how monstrous he is. A monster wouldn't sincerely enjoy this, wouldn't bear his weakness like this in exchange for his own. In the end, man is the cruelest animal, isn't it?]
Hm. [The bangs are brushed back, his red gaze without cover. Silco always stares into his eyes. He likes that.] I guess we'll see where that decision takes you. Takes us.
no subject
Here it is, they're exposed. This might be a poor idea. Silco knows the cost, oh so intimately of what happens when trust is destroyed, or dashed aside. He lives it, his unblinking eye and the scar surrounding it the price he paid for it once.
He stares into his eyes anyway. His gaze is just as eerie as Vergilius's. Sometimes, it feels a little bit like seeing his own strangeness looking back at him. His lips twitched, almost a smile. Almost, before it's drug back down underneath the waves. ]
Perhaps we will. [ A beat, and: ] First, I think it should take us back to base, don't you think? Before this...mess is found?
no subject
[Small victories, instead of massive losses. They know what it means to lose.]
[A little sigh, as he nods in agreement, moving back off of Silco. He grimaces a little, swiping himself off to smear it on the table before he rezips himself. The laundry will absolutely be his go-to after this.]
Let's go, then. I suppose you don't need an escort?
no subject
[ He does the same, although he uses a kerchief, and tucks it into his pocket. It's already stiff with blood, but he may as well. It's ruined as it is. ]
Is the job done if I don't get back safe?
[ His eyebrow lifted, as if there's an implication of a deeper question there. Maybe there is. Maybe he just doesn't expect to take a separate way back. To be fair, they're going to the same place. ]
Why don't you escort me anyway?
no subject
[He really could just say no. It's easy for him, anyways. He is becoming overly conscious of the scene around them, wine-red blood splattered on every surface. Vergilius swallows.]
Why don't I. Go ahead, then.
[He places a hand against the man's back.]
Lead the way.
π
[ Less one of his usual soft half-grunts, this one was more thoughtful than most were.
His hand is not heavy β it is a pressing weight at his back β he looked over his shoulder at him, his good eye focused on him for a moment, and he lifted his eyebrow, in silent communication. Saying something he wasn't going to say out loud, even as he didn't hesitate to move. ]
Come on, it's starting to stink in here.