immortalpoet: (maroon)
Vergilius ([personal profile] immortalpoet) wrote 2024-12-13 05:27 am (UTC)

my HTMLLLLLL

Oh? You must like me or something.

[The statement feels lighter than he expects it to. Silco settles, and Vergilius lets him. He's let Silco do a lot of things to him, lately.]

[He must like him. Or something.]

[The man is thorough - he explores the expanse of this skin as if it is a worn map of treasure. His nails scratch. X marks the spot here. And here. And here. Initially, he murmurs, but as he moves, Vergilius's face mildly flushes as his mouth opens with a sigh. Touch. One of the things that even he, in his right mind, would ruin himself for. He sinks into it, his fingers curling into the sheets with another low noise.]

[He looks up at Silco. Beholds him. Angles and scars and cracked lips, oh my. There's nobody like him. The man is carved as if he is a sculpture. Broken and bare and it tickles his brain in all the right way, somehow.]

[His hand reaches up to trail a finger down the man's neck.]


...Pretty.

[Just that one word, breathed like a prayer.]

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