[It's moments like these that will be so hard to shrug off as the drug-addled effect of that pocky. They're vulnerable, inside and out, and the hunger that drove him almost mad before seems to be somewhat satiated now. Silco whispers his truth against his lips, and his ears feel like a candle has been lit behind them, even though his cheeks don't hold the same warmth.]
[See, this is evidence of the rot of the City that would be impossible to extricate from his soul. Any average person would find something vile about the confession. Vergilius finds it to be a notion that fits right at home. Even back in the City, what few relationships one had between Fixers weren't built on things like attractiveness or pleasant feelings. It was about strength, survival, the physical highs and the grit of two souls finding each other wandering through the muck of it all. Silco thought about this since he acted as what he was: a monster.]
[Of course, his tender heart took some argument with that, but...]
[It made sense. It was in the same way his eyes fell on Silco for such similar things. This man that now shifts against him, makes another little shiver of pleasure spark into his abdomen, was as rotten as they come. He had no excuse of not having something like this for a long time. Malkuth had been sweet as anything, even if they both came from the same fabric of the City. But with her he had been so careful, so tender, like a bull unwilling to move a step further in a china shop lest he break everything in it.]
[With Silco, he can simply act without thinking, and the harm that results is not only encouraged, but returned with interest.]
[He sighs against the man's lips, as if swallowing down that truth before he returns it with one of his own, his hand moving up to trace fingers over the scarred part of his face, following jagged lines towards those pursed little lips.]
...I thought you were beautiful from the day I first met you in that alleyway. All roiling rage and all.
[He had snapped like a dog, he had been a nasty little thing that wouldn't back down for anything. How pretty that was. To see his own wrath reflected in another.]
[He's grasping the hand over his bangs to pull to his own mouth, sucking kisses over the tips of his fingers one by one.]
You've become only more beautiful since, you know.
no subject
[See, this is evidence of the rot of the City that would be impossible to extricate from his soul. Any average person would find something vile about the confession. Vergilius finds it to be a notion that fits right at home. Even back in the City, what few relationships one had between Fixers weren't built on things like attractiveness or pleasant feelings. It was about strength, survival, the physical highs and the grit of two souls finding each other wandering through the muck of it all. Silco thought about this since he acted as what he was: a monster.]
[Of course, his tender heart took some argument with that, but...]
[It made sense. It was in the same way his eyes fell on Silco for such similar things. This man that now shifts against him, makes another little shiver of pleasure spark into his abdomen, was as rotten as they come. He had no excuse of not having something like this for a long time. Malkuth had been sweet as anything, even if they both came from the same fabric of the City. But with her he had been so careful, so tender, like a bull unwilling to move a step further in a china shop lest he break everything in it.]
[With Silco, he can simply act without thinking, and the harm that results is not only encouraged, but returned with interest.]
[He sighs against the man's lips, as if swallowing down that truth before he returns it with one of his own, his hand moving up to trace fingers over the scarred part of his face, following jagged lines towards those pursed little lips.]
...I thought you were beautiful from the day I first met you in that alleyway. All roiling rage and all.
[He had snapped like a dog, he had been a nasty little thing that wouldn't back down for anything. How pretty that was. To see his own wrath reflected in another.]
[He's grasping the hand over his bangs to pull to his own mouth, sucking kisses over the tips of his fingers one by one.]
You've become only more beautiful since, you know.