[Oh, beautiful anger. It could fester. He could imagine it as such, because his heart is full of wrath, no matter how cold he runs. He could let it fester, and one day, Silco might find his own head being sliced from his shoulders as easy as anything.]
[But not now. Not today. Not at least, while some amount of affection, even twisted, remains in his body. For yes, perhaps, he does care about this man. Takes pleasure in his pleasure. If Silco wants to harm him, then perhaps, a small voice offers, he really deserves it.]
[As he harms him now - Silco's uneven teeth drag down from his neck, causing Vergilius to arch into it, a moan dripping from his mouth. He doesn't back away. Instead, he leans into it, daring, as if begging for blood to be spilled.]
[His own hand grips the man's hips, tucks him against him, asking for more.]
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[But not now. Not today. Not at least, while some amount of affection, even twisted, remains in his body. For yes, perhaps, he does care about this man. Takes pleasure in his pleasure. If Silco wants to harm him, then perhaps, a small voice offers, he really deserves it.]
[As he harms him now - Silco's uneven teeth drag down from his neck, causing Vergilius to arch into it, a moan dripping from his mouth. He doesn't back away. Instead, he leans into it, daring, as if begging for blood to be spilled.]
[His own hand grips the man's hips, tucks him against him, asking for more.]