[ Each thrust gets punctuated by another sound, just as incoherent as Vergilius, his rise and fall from his thrusts, and it feels like he's splitting him wide open, like he's going to fracture into two pieces. He's so much smaller than him, he lifts and holds him against the wall like it's nothing, and that does something so odd to his head.
He doesn't even notice, those little racking sounds with each thrust, when the thrusts stutter, and lose rhythm, his fingers only trying to find something to hold β he finds his shoulders, holding onto his scarred skin for dear life, like if he lets go he may very well actually perish on him. He's so much bigger than him, like an indomitable, large weight. Bearing down on him, making him feel small, practically crushed up against the wall. Like he could just push him down and he would crumple from the force. It's so much, it's just too much β even more than when he'd had his hand on him β and it's maddening how much it is, and how it isn't enough. How he feels that heat flood from his head, how it pools in his belly and makes his cock twitch when he fucks into him just right.
How he pulls him out, before he slides all the way in, Silco's wet choking groan escaped unfettered, before he too started babbling β there it was; he'd promised to make him see stars and his vision blanks out for a moment, everything totally gone from him. His brain like white hot coals being stirred around in a stove, he can't think, he can't see, he can't even hear, all he can do is feel, and his whole body twitched around him, lean and trembling, and it's still β His whole body feels white hot and on the edge, like he's stuck there on the precipice, and it keeps getting further and further away.
He's uncontrolled, his voice finally finds words; I need β Vergilius β I need β it's less a promise, and more a demand. Always demands with this voracious creature, no veneration here. He can feel him leaking out of him, that burst of heat that's burning him up inside as much as it's keeping him suspended and half-mad. His throat practically vibrates against Vergilius's mouth, and he can feel him mouthing his name over and over into him. He needs more, just a little more, an offering to the fire that rages low in his gut, that burns him up. That insatiable maw demanding more, more, more. This isn't enough, it feels like nothing could quench that fire. No matter how much they feed it, it just demands more.
He's greedy, so greedy, He used his hands and legs to find leverage, still riding him through it, angling forward with his hips, pushing against him, greedy, so greedy. He needs more β friction, something, anything β even the barest brush of his cock, sandwiched between them β
Finally; he breathes out a low gasp, the slightest promise of friction is like a kick over the edge, hurtling him over it with such force he feels as if he's in freefall, suspended against the wall, his cock throbbing and spilling between them, leaving a mess, his hands still holding himself up, his hips still weakly trying to move β his breaths are shuddered and weak, and it's all gasps and groans through his twitches; slipping through between the spaces; Vergilius, more, more, more ]
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He doesn't even notice, those little racking sounds with each thrust, when the thrusts stutter, and lose rhythm, his fingers only trying to find something to hold β he finds his shoulders, holding onto his scarred skin for dear life, like if he lets go he may very well actually perish on him. He's so much bigger than him, like an indomitable, large weight. Bearing down on him, making him feel small, practically crushed up against the wall. Like he could just push him down and he would crumple from the force. It's so much, it's just too much β even more than when he'd had his hand on him β and it's maddening how much it is, and how it isn't enough. How he feels that heat flood from his head, how it pools in his belly and makes his cock twitch when he fucks into him just right.
How he pulls him out, before he slides all the way in, Silco's wet choking groan escaped unfettered, before he too started babbling β there it was; he'd promised to make him see stars and his vision blanks out for a moment, everything totally gone from him. His brain like white hot coals being stirred around in a stove, he can't think, he can't see, he can't even hear, all he can do is feel, and his whole body twitched around him, lean and trembling, and it's still β His whole body feels white hot and on the edge, like he's stuck there on the precipice, and it keeps getting further and further away.
He's uncontrolled, his voice finally finds words; I need β Vergilius β I need β it's less a promise, and more a demand. Always demands with this voracious creature, no veneration here. He can feel him leaking out of him, that burst of heat that's burning him up inside as much as it's keeping him suspended and half-mad. His throat practically vibrates against Vergilius's mouth, and he can feel him mouthing his name over and over into him. He needs more, just a little more, an offering to the fire that rages low in his gut, that burns him up. That insatiable maw demanding more, more, more. This isn't enough, it feels like nothing could quench that fire. No matter how much they feed it, it just demands more.
He's greedy, so greedy, He used his hands and legs to find leverage, still riding him through it, angling forward with his hips, pushing against him, greedy, so greedy. He needs more β friction, something, anything β even the barest brush of his cock, sandwiched between them β
Finally; he breathes out a low gasp, the slightest promise of friction is like a kick over the edge, hurtling him over it with such force he feels as if he's in freefall, suspended against the wall, his cock throbbing and spilling between them, leaving a mess, his hands still holding himself up, his hips still weakly trying to move β his breaths are shuddered and weak, and it's all gasps and groans through his twitches; slipping through between the spaces; Vergilius, more, more, more ]