[ He's going to remember this, the way he looked at him, what he says, it sears in his mind like it's burning in there, along with the rest of him. His skin is too hot, rapidly chilling from sweat exposed to air, and it leaves gooseflesh dusting across his skin, a prickle of heat that shoots straight down to his belly.
He calls him that again β and Silco wants to tear the words from his lips like a lie, just like he wants to tear into him, bite him and pull that guilt out and discard it. He feels something a bit mad and a bit fervent take him, when he lifts his hips, even more when he sinks down on him, like the heat was getting too hungry, and was driving him to the point where he was going to do it himself.
He sighed something low and pleased when he sank all the way down on him, rocking against him slowly, weakly. He reached down to grasp his sides, his good eye sliding closed, spider's fingers gripping into his sides, taking him all the way with a soft hungry sound that's low and half-choked out, his nails trying to dig into him, like he could lash himself to him through his ribs.
He wants this over and over again β the haze in his head drowns out the whisper of careful, careful, he'll kill you soon enough β and he wants to make sure he's left under his skin like a serrated blade, a nagging hunger that he can't rid himself of, even if he tries to dig it free. ]
Good β [ He breathed, rocking weakly again against him. How the hell isn't he dead already? ] β don't stop β
[ It comes with a shuddering breath, sinking all the way down on him, his fingers doing their little painful dance across his ribs, like playing a piano, digging in as he goes. ]
no subject
He calls him that again β and Silco wants to tear the words from his lips like a lie, just like he wants to tear into him, bite him and pull that guilt out and discard it. He feels something a bit mad and a bit fervent take him, when he lifts his hips, even more when he sinks down on him, like the heat was getting too hungry, and was driving him to the point where he was going to do it himself.
He sighed something low and pleased when he sank all the way down on him, rocking against him slowly, weakly. He reached down to grasp his sides, his good eye sliding closed, spider's fingers gripping into his sides, taking him all the way with a soft hungry sound that's low and half-choked out, his nails trying to dig into him, like he could lash himself to him through his ribs.
He wants this over and over again β the haze in his head drowns out the whisper of careful, careful, he'll kill you soon enough β and he wants to make sure he's left under his skin like a serrated blade, a nagging hunger that he can't rid himself of, even if he tries to dig it free. ]
Good β [ He breathed, rocking weakly again against him. How the hell isn't he dead already? ] β don't stop β
[ It comes with a shuddering breath, sinking all the way down on him, his fingers doing their little painful dance across his ribs, like playing a piano, digging in as he goes. ]