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Even with your foot to my chest.
[ He responded, teased, but there's a measure of honesty there. He'd already told him what frightened him that day, and his foot to his chest wasn't one of them. Yes, Vergilius was strong — would always outclass him in strength — but the man hadn't killed him yet. He'd had ample opportunity, hadn't he? There had been the night in the castle, even his rooms after, he'd already threatened it plenty, but he never quite makes good on his threats.
It makes him foolhardy, maybe. He knows he's being foolish. He's aware of how dangerous this is. Then again, maybe that's a part of why he does it willingly. To prove a point? Because it floods his veins with that old excitement? He isn't sure. He doesn't examine it, when there's something else to indulge in. ]
Punish me, and how are you going to do that? [ He's already trying to pluck his shirt free, and Silco's fingers are already under his shirt, making their way across the expanse of his chest, touching him here and there, his fingers walk a tempting path, and they brush against the surface of his bandages. His lips curl into that smile that Vergilius has probably gotten used to by now, a challenging one.
He knows he tempts fate, and he does it anyway.
It's not stabbing, after all. ]
[ He responded, teased, but there's a measure of honesty there. He'd already told him what frightened him that day, and his foot to his chest wasn't one of them. Yes, Vergilius was strong — would always outclass him in strength — but the man hadn't killed him yet. He'd had ample opportunity, hadn't he? There had been the night in the castle, even his rooms after, he'd already threatened it plenty, but he never quite makes good on his threats.
It makes him foolhardy, maybe. He knows he's being foolish. He's aware of how dangerous this is. Then again, maybe that's a part of why he does it willingly. To prove a point? Because it floods his veins with that old excitement? He isn't sure. He doesn't examine it, when there's something else to indulge in. ]
Punish me, and how are you going to do that? [ He's already trying to pluck his shirt free, and Silco's fingers are already under his shirt, making their way across the expanse of his chest, touching him here and there, his fingers walk a tempting path, and they brush against the surface of his bandages. His lips curl into that smile that Vergilius has probably gotten used to by now, a challenging one.
He knows he tempts fate, and he does it anyway.
It's not stabbing, after all. ]
[Vergilius falls into a sort of awkward beat, trying to think of what to say.]
Appropriate in what way?
Appropriate in what way?
[They glance up at him.]
She's the one who gave me it, so bringing it along...
[...and look away once more.]
I know. I'm being too sentimental.
She's the one who gave me it, so bringing it along...
[...and look away once more.]
I know. I'm being too sentimental.
[In the City, there really is such a thing as too much sentimentality. It's beaten out of you when becoming a Fixer.]
[Vergilius has to think of his reply for a moment - before he shakes his head.]
Perhaps you are. Do you feel that it hinders you?
[Vergilius has to think of his reply for a moment - before he shakes his head.]
Perhaps you are. Do you feel that it hinders you?
I don't know?
[Their brow furrows.]
It's hard to say, especially here. But, I'll be honest, thinking of what happened back home, I feel like things have gotten better as I've grown closer to everyone else? I don't know about smoother, but...
But that could just be because I'm gaining experience, too.
[They're overthinking again.]
[Their brow furrows.]
It's hard to say, especially here. But, I'll be honest, thinking of what happened back home, I feel like things have gotten better as I've grown closer to everyone else? I don't know about smoother, but...
But that could just be because I'm gaining experience, too.
[They're overthinking again.]
[There he goes. Right where he expected him to. Silco finds a wound, and digs in. He can't help himself from the hurt, the pain, if he's causing it for someone else.]
[He should reprimand him. Instead, he takes a different route. Silco brushes forward, and Vergilius, with strong scared hands, takes the man by the thin curve of his waist and turns him around so that his back is to his abdomen.]
[Immediately, he's leaning foward to kiss and then bite at the nape of his neck, like an animal would mark a mate. He's pressing against him, leaning as to make Silco almost fall to the bed.]
Haa. [Comes the scratchy growl against his skin - Vergilius's hands palms downward between his legs, lewd and desperate for taking what he has missed all this time.] By doing it so you don't get a chance to look at me when get my due. Is that not fair?
[He should reprimand him. Instead, he takes a different route. Silco brushes forward, and Vergilius, with strong scared hands, takes the man by the thin curve of his waist and turns him around so that his back is to his abdomen.]
[Immediately, he's leaning foward to kiss and then bite at the nape of his neck, like an animal would mark a mate. He's pressing against him, leaning as to make Silco almost fall to the bed.]
Haa. [Comes the scratchy growl against his skin - Vergilius's hands palms downward between his legs, lewd and desperate for taking what he has missed all this time.] By doing it so you don't get a chance to look at me when get my due. Is that not fair?
[ It's hard to tell whether it's the scrape of teeth, the rush of air, or his hands that does it. Maybe all three, or maybe it's the promise murmured against his skin, but that warm flush down his spine leaves him spreading his legs too-obedeiently for him. His hands are what keep him from falling all the way forward, though his slight weight feels off-kilter.
Out of control even, but maybe just like Vergilius is often out of control with him, he finds himself in the same position. Caught by surprise. Just like now, his weight solid against his back, boxing him between that and the bed.
But Silco doesn't just comply. He never just complies, does he? His lips curl as he turned his head to look over his shoulder, leveling that blackened eye towards him, even if he's settled against the back of his neck. ]
Oh? Is it? [ He asked, a shark's smile on his face. He shouldn't like this, the way he pushes him into place, but he likes it regardless. It makes him want to fight back just a little bit spitefully. Like now. It makes it better, he can feel how his body reacts to his palms, his fingers, to this. He makes him want to comply — and fight back — all at once. ] How are you going to do that? [ Put him into his place? ]
Out of control even, but maybe just like Vergilius is often out of control with him, he finds himself in the same position. Caught by surprise. Just like now, his weight solid against his back, boxing him between that and the bed.
But Silco doesn't just comply. He never just complies, does he? His lips curl as he turned his head to look over his shoulder, leveling that blackened eye towards him, even if he's settled against the back of his neck. ]
Oh? Is it? [ He asked, a shark's smile on his face. He shouldn't like this, the way he pushes him into place, but he likes it regardless. It makes him want to fight back just a little bit spitefully. Like now. It makes it better, he can feel how his body reacts to his palms, his fingers, to this. He makes him want to comply — and fight back — all at once. ] How are you going to do that? [ Put him into his place? ]
[How beautifully Silco slots against him. Slender little spine pressed against his broad chest, and his pelvis weighing heavy, with meaning, onto him. Oh, of course Silco will fight back. That's why he wants the upper hand.]
[A different sort of fight, fought with hands and skin and tempted sighs. He hooks a finger into the man's pantline to tug it down, while his other hand slides over abdomen, down past his underwear, before taking him solidly into his hand.]
By fucking you into the mattress from behind.
[A crude, blunt statement if there ever was one, but he means it. He wants his due. And Silco will be powerless to stop it, just like he can't stop himself from taking the tip of the man's ear to suck on it.]
[A different sort of fight, fought with hands and skin and tempted sighs. He hooks a finger into the man's pantline to tug it down, while his other hand slides over abdomen, down past his underwear, before taking him solidly into his hand.]
By fucking you into the mattress from behind.
[A crude, blunt statement if there ever was one, but he means it. He wants his due. And Silco will be powerless to stop it, just like he can't stop himself from taking the tip of the man's ear to suck on it.]
[ He's rewarded with a rush of air through clenched teeth, already starting to tempt those sighs out of him. He wondered if Vergilius would punish him for that stabbing — and this was a punishment in its own way, reminding him of what they had; here, and now — his legs spread for him, barely upright. If he tipped him over any more, he would fall forward, and onto the bed. ]
Oh — [ Is it surprise? Something else? He takes his ear in his mouth, and Silco does gasp this time, his fingers searching, searching, for something to hold onto. He can't grip his shoulders like this, he can't reach out to take him or grip him.
He can find his fingers, reaches for his arm, but it's an ineffective squeeze at best, tightening around the flesh there, holding him, digging fingers in. He pressed his back up against his, arching his back so he has as much as he wants from him, and his touch leaves him chasing it with a lewd thrust of his hips.
He's been craving it just as much as Vergilius has. Maybe that's the most shameful thing of all, even more shameful that he gives it up, allows him to see it. ]
And you think you can keep me in line to do that?
[ He says it, knowing what it will do. Maybe he's playing with fire, tempting him out a little bit, tempting him to show him that monster.
If his voice came out a little breathless, no it didn't. ]
Oh — [ Is it surprise? Something else? He takes his ear in his mouth, and Silco does gasp this time, his fingers searching, searching, for something to hold onto. He can't grip his shoulders like this, he can't reach out to take him or grip him.
He can find his fingers, reaches for his arm, but it's an ineffective squeeze at best, tightening around the flesh there, holding him, digging fingers in. He pressed his back up against his, arching his back so he has as much as he wants from him, and his touch leaves him chasing it with a lewd thrust of his hips.
He's been craving it just as much as Vergilius has. Maybe that's the most shameful thing of all, even more shameful that he gives it up, allows him to see it. ]
And you think you can keep me in line to do that?
[ He says it, knowing what it will do. Maybe he's playing with fire, tempting him out a little bit, tempting him to show him that monster.
If his voice came out a little breathless, no it didn't. ]
...
[Well.]
If being closer to them allows you to work well as a Manager...then I wouldn't say its altogether a bad thing.
[...]
Just...be careful.
[Well.]
If being closer to them allows you to work well as a Manager...then I wouldn't say its altogether a bad thing.
[...]
Just...be careful.
I know. Things can go wrong at any time. Something might happen that I can't fix, or someone might leave.
[Realities that feel all the more real after the events of La Manchaland back home and the Imugi's rampage here.]
...Do you regret meeting them? Not the Sinners, but the people who...
[A pause--they frown as they search for the right words.]
...who taught you the lessons that made you so cautious.
[Maybe there's no right way to word a question like that.]
[Realities that feel all the more real after the events of La Manchaland back home and the Imugi's rampage here.]
...Do you regret meeting them? Not the Sinners, but the people who...
[A pause--they frown as they search for the right words.]
...who taught you the lessons that made you so cautious.
[Maybe there's no right way to word a question like that.]
[What a question. He's thought about it, here and again. So, although it is a difficult question, the answer, is, surprisingly simple.]
No.
[But...]
I regret them meeting me.
[Since his presence, assuredly, was the very thing that made it all rot.]
No.
[But...]
I regret them meeting me.
[Since his presence, assuredly, was the very thing that made it all rot.]
[It's not the answer they expected to hear. For a moment their steps falter, but Dante is quick to recover, returning to walk at Vergilius's side.]
They meant a lot to you, didn't they?
[No...]
They mean a lot to you still.
They meant a lot to you, didn't they?
[No...]
They mean a lot to you still.
But of course.
[He can probably hear the smile in that reply, see the twinkle in those usually dull eyes. Vergilius lets a scarred thumb brush a circle around the shaft before rubbing down, a drawn-out touch he hopes will produce more of those lovely little hitches and noises.]
How many nights have you wanted this? To feel me filling you? Making you cry my name? Tell the truth, now. I like when people are honest.
[His other hand is unbuckling his own belt, yanking his pants down so he can press the heated yet clothed swelling against the man - he sighs, knowing he's practically teasing himself, here. He has to take his time. Punishment asks for that.]
How bad do you want this, hm?
[He can probably hear the smile in that reply, see the twinkle in those usually dull eyes. Vergilius lets a scarred thumb brush a circle around the shaft before rubbing down, a drawn-out touch he hopes will produce more of those lovely little hitches and noises.]
How many nights have you wanted this? To feel me filling you? Making you cry my name? Tell the truth, now. I like when people are honest.
[His other hand is unbuckling his own belt, yanking his pants down so he can press the heated yet clothed swelling against the man - he sighs, knowing he's practically teasing himself, here. He has to take his time. Punishment asks for that.]
How bad do you want this, hm?
[ A gift for you, Vergilius, his fingers on his cock do draw out those hitches he's seeking, unrestrained, a secret shared between just them. His breath comes out with that shaky little gasps, his hips seeking more of it, but finding little control. It's all whatever Vergilius deems to give him, after all, despite his little starts, or attempts to chase it.
Maybe that gives it away enough, to answer his question. He wants to lie — he should lie, despite their agreement — but he is forced into honesty here, in this shared space. ]
Plenty — [ Honesty ripped from his throat; and he presses back against him, but he swallows back the sound that threatens to escape, that familiar rush of want that still shocks him down to his core. He wants this, has since — ]
— Since the last time. [ They were like this. He would have cornered him in the campers, had they had the opportunity. After seeing him wreathed in blood... oh, even more so. ] I've wanted you almost every night —
[ He teases him, and his mouth feels dry, and he wonders if he recognizes what he's done, giving him this, dragging him down into this mire, where he hardly feels like either of them can escape. ]
Maybe that gives it away enough, to answer his question. He wants to lie — he should lie, despite their agreement — but he is forced into honesty here, in this shared space. ]
Plenty — [ Honesty ripped from his throat; and he presses back against him, but he swallows back the sound that threatens to escape, that familiar rush of want that still shocks him down to his core. He wants this, has since — ]
— Since the last time. [ They were like this. He would have cornered him in the campers, had they had the opportunity. After seeing him wreathed in blood... oh, even more so. ] I've wanted you almost every night —
[ He teases him, and his mouth feels dry, and he wonders if he recognizes what he's done, giving him this, dragging him down into this mire, where he hardly feels like either of them can escape. ]
[Almost every night.]
[He would be lying if he didn't say the same. That night in the camper, hands over the other's body with perfect restraint, had been like he was keeping a dog chomping at a metal bit. It frightened him. As if that pocky all that time ago was now simply ingrained into him.]
[It must be ingrained into Silco, too. With such an admission from a proud man, Vergilius can't help but feel a sense of twisted pride. Only he could make him cowe like this, beg like this, utter sweet little noises like this. Only he. No one else.]
[He presses a kiss against the back of the man's neck - almost sweet, tinged with some bit of sincerity within the lustful squall of feeling - as he rubs hus groin lazily, yet heavily, against the man underneath.]
Thank you. [For the honesty.] You're addicted to me, aren't you?
[A callout. He strokes him again, a solid pump, and it almost feels, irrationally, that he was meant for this hand of his.]
Where is your lube, Silco?
[He would be lying if he didn't say the same. That night in the camper, hands over the other's body with perfect restraint, had been like he was keeping a dog chomping at a metal bit. It frightened him. As if that pocky all that time ago was now simply ingrained into him.]
[It must be ingrained into Silco, too. With such an admission from a proud man, Vergilius can't help but feel a sense of twisted pride. Only he could make him cowe like this, beg like this, utter sweet little noises like this. Only he. No one else.]
[He presses a kiss against the back of the man's neck - almost sweet, tinged with some bit of sincerity within the lustful squall of feeling - as he rubs hus groin lazily, yet heavily, against the man underneath.]
Thank you. [For the honesty.] You're addicted to me, aren't you?
[A callout. He strokes him again, a solid pump, and it almost feels, irrationally, that he was meant for this hand of his.]
Where is your lube, Silco?
[ His lips send a shiver down his back, his fingers start searching for something, but like this he can't touch him like he normally does, grip him and dig in. ]
Of course n — [ ot — he protests, but his hand strokes him again, and yes, of course it feels good. It always feels good — large, scarred hand wrapped around him — but after being bereft, after keeping their little dance muted and hidden... He hisses out a breath, a gasp, his protest cut off.
Maybe he is addicted. He'd gone so long without it, anything like it — hell even touch — and he feels that little old beating in his heart quicken time after time, it leaves a trail of heated danger on his skin that he doesn't want to fight off. He welcomes it, his legs spread for him, and Vergilius rubs against him, leaves him throbbing in his fingers, while he palms at him. He doesn't want to fight him off, and the thought should be sobering, but maybe that fire is still infecting him too.
It couldn't be anything else. Couldn't be that he was feeling empty, needy, like he would welcome him again and again, if he just — ]
— Bag — [ His hands started reaching for the bag of the few belongings he'd brought with him. It's at least nearby, and he tugged it by the handle, shoved his hand in and fished; frantically, before he finally emerged victorious, before he handed it over his shoulder, turning to look at him. Maybe because he wanted to see his face when he did it, and maybe because he wanted to give him sight of him, already flushed — just because of him. He wanted to see it too, and maybe that was greedy of him, to want it. They'd whispered that in the campers, hadn't they? That it was a dirty little secret that only they were sharing. Only he could pull this indulgent part of Vergilius out, to draw him in, and offer this. This was his to see in that same way. ]
Of course n — [ ot — he protests, but his hand strokes him again, and yes, of course it feels good. It always feels good — large, scarred hand wrapped around him — but after being bereft, after keeping their little dance muted and hidden... He hisses out a breath, a gasp, his protest cut off.
Maybe he is addicted. He'd gone so long without it, anything like it — hell even touch — and he feels that little old beating in his heart quicken time after time, it leaves a trail of heated danger on his skin that he doesn't want to fight off. He welcomes it, his legs spread for him, and Vergilius rubs against him, leaves him throbbing in his fingers, while he palms at him. He doesn't want to fight him off, and the thought should be sobering, but maybe that fire is still infecting him too.
It couldn't be anything else. Couldn't be that he was feeling empty, needy, like he would welcome him again and again, if he just — ]
— Bag — [ His hands started reaching for the bag of the few belongings he'd brought with him. It's at least nearby, and he tugged it by the handle, shoved his hand in and fished; frantically, before he finally emerged victorious, before he handed it over his shoulder, turning to look at him. Maybe because he wanted to see his face when he did it, and maybe because he wanted to give him sight of him, already flushed — just because of him. He wanted to see it too, and maybe that was greedy of him, to want it. They'd whispered that in the campers, hadn't they? That it was a dirty little secret that only they were sharing. Only he could pull this indulgent part of Vergilius out, to draw him in, and offer this. This was his to see in that same way. ]
...
[A sigh, like a sound through an oak tree. Of course, Dante would find it surprising, want to ask more.]
Yes. They do. Such is the nature of caring, Dante. As much as I would like it not to be.
[A sigh, like a sound through an oak tree. Of course, Dante would find it surprising, want to ask more.]
Yes. They do. Such is the nature of caring, Dante. As much as I would like it not to be.
[Continuing this line of conversation may as well be dancing through a minefield. But it's not like they don't have one foot in already.]
...Was Garnet one of them?
...Was Garnet one of them?
[There's a palpable swallow at the mention of that name, his eyes overshadowed.]
Yes. He was.
Yes. He was.
[They catch the sound over the bustle of the city streets--just barely--and wince.]
S-Sorry... Um... What about the others? Ah--happy memories. Any happy memories?
S-Sorry... Um... What about the others? Ah--happy memories. Any happy memories?
Happy...
[Said a little listlessly. Really, you want to do this, Dante? But fine. Better to think of something happy than the alternative, though it makes that alternative all the more sadder.]
The kids would play pranks on me sometimes. Garnet was always a proper sort. Gave them all a lecture once, even though some were younger than him and regardless if I minded. That's how he was.
[Said a little listlessly. Really, you want to do this, Dante? But fine. Better to think of something happy than the alternative, though it makes that alternative all the more sadder.]
The kids would play pranks on me sometimes. Garnet was always a proper sort. Gave them all a lecture once, even though some were younger than him and regardless if I minded. That's how he was.
[They're reminded of the way he looked at Don Quixote when she challenged that member of the Cinq to a duel.]
Sounds like a good kid. Or maybe "strong-willed" would be a better way to put it?
[...]
Kinda hard to imagine anyone pranking you, though.
Sounds like a good kid. Or maybe "strong-willed" would be a better way to put it?
[...]
Kinda hard to imagine anyone pranking you, though.
Definitely strong-willed.
[The huff that comes is tinged with amusement.]
Sometimes I would get a "kick me" sign on my back.
[The huff that comes is tinged with amusement.]
Sometimes I would get a "kick me" sign on my back.
[Give them a moment. That's an image they have to reconcile with the rest of him.]
...Nope, I still can't imagine it.
[Though he's always been pretty patient with Charon, so maybe...]
Did any of them try it?
[They have to know.]
...Nope, I still can't imagine it.
[Though he's always been pretty patient with Charon, so maybe...]
Did any of them try it?
[They have to know.]
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