[ He barely hears him, his head still filled with that same insatiable ringing that keeps echoing through his head, his limbs felt shaky, like he had been melted down to near-nothing, like there was little left of him. He could say that it was the length of time since β anything, but it was not even close to that, the heat still thrumming through him, like it wanted more, more, more; and his lips finally stilled when he stared speaking, his breathing not evening out, but finally less frantic, like the heavy pulls of breath had finally slowed down. Still heavy gasps, his hands still dug into his shoulders, like he had to hold on for dear life, but β
He pulls free, and it's wet and Silco can feel it, lewdly leaking out of him. He suddenly feels chill and empty; but that hunger, it boils in his belly, burning up anything and everything, that insatiable maw, tearing through every lick of sense that he has.
Vergiius deposited him on to the bed, and he barely bounces on the surface β but he doesn't leave him alone for long, swooping in after him, blanketing him. He's larger than Silco by far, more solid β and the weight of him up against him leaves him feeling pinned like a spider caught on a board for study. It should leave him panicked, or trying to scramble out of his weight, but instead that insatiable heat bubbled uncontrollably, leaving him only writhing under his mouth following the weight.
How is he everywhere? Every single prick of his lips on skin feels like a searing brand, taking another piece and claiming it for himself, like a conqueror taking land, and Silco finds that he cedes it willingly, letting him take and take freely. His fingers slip up, and it looks like he is about to brush his bangs from his eyes again β but instead he reaches to his jaw, and those spider-thin fingers find the bite he'd left, digging into the little injury like it would ground them. Remind them. ]
Nice, is it? [ He would hate to see hateful, then. It feels hateful, to promise something like this, that roaring fire in him wants it, and more, and a part of him β that little logical creature that seems buried in the coals β knows that it will leave him unable to move. Like an extended, pleasurable attempt on his life, though Vergilius hardly needs this to kill him. ]
Again β [ He hissed out the demand, hunger that's just not quite like the bloodlust they'd shared, but it's close. Roaring through him, taking his logic and drowning it like everything else he'd once been. ] β Then I'll let you suck me off.
[ Demanding, horrid little man. Vergilius knew who was in his bed, this creature who demanded and took, and gave so little in return, but he was here, and maybe that was giving enough β more than any else β a hungry little spider trying to whisper in his ear and entangle them together even further. Like putting little hooks in him, trying to pull him in more.
Or maybe it was the other way around. Did these hooks go both ways? ]
no subject
He pulls free, and it's wet and Silco can feel it, lewdly leaking out of him. He suddenly feels chill and empty; but that hunger, it boils in his belly, burning up anything and everything, that insatiable maw, tearing through every lick of sense that he has.
Vergiius deposited him on to the bed, and he barely bounces on the surface β but he doesn't leave him alone for long, swooping in after him, blanketing him. He's larger than Silco by far, more solid β and the weight of him up against him leaves him feeling pinned like a spider caught on a board for study. It should leave him panicked, or trying to scramble out of his weight, but instead that insatiable heat bubbled uncontrollably, leaving him only writhing under his mouth following the weight.
How is he everywhere? Every single prick of his lips on skin feels like a searing brand, taking another piece and claiming it for himself, like a conqueror taking land, and Silco finds that he cedes it willingly, letting him take and take freely. His fingers slip up, and it looks like he is about to brush his bangs from his eyes again β but instead he reaches to his jaw, and those spider-thin fingers find the bite he'd left, digging into the little injury like it would ground them. Remind them. ]
Nice, is it? [ He would hate to see hateful, then. It feels hateful, to promise something like this, that roaring fire in him wants it, and more, and a part of him β that little logical creature that seems buried in the coals β knows that it will leave him unable to move. Like an extended, pleasurable attempt on his life, though Vergilius hardly needs this to kill him. ]
Again β [ He hissed out the demand, hunger that's just not quite like the bloodlust they'd shared, but it's close. Roaring through him, taking his logic and drowning it like everything else he'd once been. ] β Then I'll let you suck me off.
[ Demanding, horrid little man. Vergilius knew who was in his bed, this creature who demanded and took, and gave so little in return, but he was here, and maybe that was giving enough β more than any else β a hungry little spider trying to whisper in his ear and entangle them together even further. Like putting little hooks in him, trying to pull him in more.
Or maybe it was the other way around. Did these hooks go both ways? ]