[ He scoffed. Vergilius, i have bad news for you. ]
I do hate to break it to you — [ He says with a put-upon sigh (he doesn't) ] — but you know more about me than anybody here, save for the gods I arrived with. Interesting, isn't it?
[ Undaunted, he stepped closer to him, just right on the edge of what would be considered comfortable. Like it's a line he's aware of, and that his toes just brush against. Toy with the line there. ]
I thought you wanted to understand me.
[ He reached up, and pressed the foil packet to his chest. ]
Now eat a cookie with me and pretend like we're normal human beings.
[He releases the most aggravated sigh in the world, half considering just to grab the man by the collar to toss him out like yesterday's trash.]
[He closes the door instead, pulling back towards the inside of the room.]
As if we could pretend we're normal at all.[And a gesture to the other chair at the table, as he sits himself with the worst slouch possible.] You go first.
I spent money on these. [ It's not really about the cookies, anyway. for them at least
He doesn't sit, but instead leaned against the end of the little table. ]
Sorry, you're right. How about barely functional, then?
[ He asked it with an eyeroll and a snap of the foil opening. He pulled one of them out, and handed the package to him. He snapped a piece off, the end, before he put it in his mouth.
Who the hell made cookies shaped like this? There was barely anything to eat. ]
[ His lip curled, a hint of those teeth bared. He broke off another part and popped it into his mouth. He may not be a normal person either, but he can at least make an effort with enough motivation.
Sure, the motivation is that the demon who tried to eat his soul attacked him in his room and now he's messed up about it.
But still. ]
These might have been flying off the shelves, but... [ A shrug. ] They are hardly anything to write home about, are they? I suppose this just proves people are idiots.
[ He's so busy complaining, he doesn't really notice the slight rise in temperature. ]
[ He doesn't even have the decency to look ashamed about the vampire thing. He's said his own piece about it — that he thinks he's without guilt (lol) — so instead he only lifts a single real eyebrow, and tipped his head with a silent smile. As if he's saying 'nobody's perfect'.
He ate the last piece of his stick, all snapped into neat little pieces. He's still standing, one leg crossed over the other. ]
Hardly.
[ The words come out a touch more automatically than he usually speaks. His ears are tinged pink at the tips. ]
So quick to kick me out? [ A soft tut. ] Even I was more hospitable.
[ He shrugged, closed his one good eye, as if he was bearing a great burden. ]
And here I am, trying to make nice, being told these things. Then people wonder why I so often do not try.
[ Insult here, rebuttal there, a bit like a dance. The flush takes to the back of his neck, but he does his best to ignore it. Something about it, the cookie, settles odd in his stomach. Maybe it's because he's not used to the food, but...
Hm. ]
What if you... give it to me anyway? See what happens?
[ He drug his fingers across the desk, like he's leaving a stain in his wake. ]
I think people see you make little effort in trying to make nice, if at all.
[Another little jab, mildly. He should pull his eyes away, but he doesn't. watching the color move. It's an odd thing, to see so much flow to someone so pale.]
[He swallows, palpably. The man shifts his fingers over his table, and his hand moves as if by its own bidding, capturing his wrist.]
I don't know the meaning of it. So I can't give what I don't have.
[ His hand stills, and his lips curled into a smile that's maybe too self-satisfied. ]
Little effort? And here I brought a gift and everything. Isn't that nice?
[ He moved to shift himself off the table, though he doesn't really go anywhere, just turned a little more toward him, looking down at him. for once He focused on his lips, but he doesn't tug his hand away, but it's like he's stuck, standing there right before him. ]
Don't know the meaning? [ he asks with a scoff. ] Wasn't I perfectly hospitable when you visited me?
[ The slight shrug of his shoulders is all he has. He kept looking down at him, that pit of an eye matches, more like a spotlight, searching through the darkness to see what it can find, before it meets the predator.
His lips quirked into a smile. ]
In some places it is considered quite hospitable behavior.
[ He can feel that heat down his spine, shivering down it, like it's got it taut as a wire, like it's both too hot, but that's not enough. His other hand shot out, to land on his shoulder. It rest there, a slight, but solid weight. ]
[Which is....sort of a lie, sort of not. The circumstances were hateful. Everything that happened...somehow wasn't, even if he sees it with some distaste after the fact. Or maybe that's his regret? His own hindsight?]
[It's harder to think here. The hand is so small, but it feels like a pin skewering a butterfly wing in place.]
[Something feels......off? Not off?]
...I feel sick.
[Is it really sickness. There's something brewing, like some pleasurable sense of nausea in his chest.]
[ He says it with confidence, with that sort of self-assured smile Silco so often has. Sure, the reason he'd visited had been hateful. Silco didn't doubt that, he'd been angry about the vampire thing -- which, again, he was faultless for. (No) But he hasn't forgotten everything else he'd said that evening. What he sounded like when --
That flush still dusts his ears. He's still too hot, like he's next to a furnace, like his lean, too-thin body is shivering trying to hold back from --
What? He doesn't know. Or maybe he does, the same fluttering kick to his heart, too loud in his head. ]
Are you trying that hard to kick me out?
[ He asked, he leans forward, without thinking about it, not even really realizing what he's doing. He stared at him, leaning down to meet his eyes, so they were on the same level, only inches away. He looks for... Something, whether it's honest illness in his expression or otherwise, he isn't sure he finds what he's looking for. ]
[Of course not. Definitely not. It wasn't good. It was terrible. He doesn't think about it. Not even a little. ]
[...It's nice to lie to himself, sometimes. Even so, his initial complaints feel like they're melting away, leaving something raw and heated, an open wound he didn't account for. It's not a new feeling. He had it that night, in the midst of bites and swallowed blood. But this feels like someone swung a hammer over his head when he least expected it.]
[Silco is bending in. Vergilius's eyes flicker - to his eyes, to his hand, to...his mouth, now. He feels a breath seize in his chest that he lets out, almost stuttering.]
I guess not. [Finally an admission, quiet, but with that he's striking like a viper, hand curling around the man's collar to yank him in.] Come here.
[It's nowhere near chaste. He's taking this kiss like he's starving for it. He won't let him go with a familiar hunger like this. Not now.]
[ He'd thought to point out that he was still lying — but the heat makes his mind slow and sluggish, he was so stuck on tracing the line of the scar on his face that with his eyes that he was still caught by surprise when he tugged him forward, a soft note that lands against his lips.
He slotted against him easily, tugged forward by his grip, settled into his lap, straddling it. He weighs next to nothing up against him, lean and sharp, all bones and sinew. Silco snaps at his mouth when he tugs him, a bite against his lip before he can get far, but Vergilius pushes further, and his mouth opened automatically, allowing him in to pursue what he sought.
He tastes like cheap cigars and whiskey. It had been buried with all the blood, but now that his diet has been forcefully realigned, his bad habits shine through. He reached up, his fingers clawed at his neck, his jaw, a thumb traced along that scar on his face, the same one that had drawn his attention. Something in him makes him want to keep tracing it, the flush that takes to the back of his neck makes him think he would like to find the rest of his scars too, scrape his nails against them like he could open him up.
He feels frantic for it, like that flush of heat was going to roast him alive, like he needs — needs something to sate that churning fire in him — this doesn't seem enough, but...
But he feels satisfied digging his fingers into scarred flesh all the same. ]
[It's terrifying, in its own way. He could blame their previous tryst on the vampirism. Here, there's no hunger for blood that can explain this. He's overwhelmed, his mouth letting out a pleased noise as the other shifts to fit squarely into his lap, like he belongs there.]
[Silco digs in as if to pull him apart. He can match the same, what with his hands shamelessly launching themselves at the other's collared shirt to roughly start to try to pull off his vest, open those buttons. He wants skin to skin, to douse himself in it like one would to the snow from a fire, but - no, even he knows deep down this won't help with the inferno within. It would make it worse.]
[He digs his tongue past those scarred lips into Silco's mouth, prodding, swallowing kiss after kiss. Only a few gasps of breath are allowed - he moans a little into the movement, his ears feeling like they're on fire. Its an intensity that feels like its going to split his head open if he doesn't- what? What does he need, here?]
[ He wants — needs — something to sate this fire burning under his skin, a flush that creeps down his neck and lower, lower, lower. His fingers look to dig into flesh, but it isn't enough for that, that roaring hunger seems as insatiable as the monster he proclaimed himself to be. He gasped against his mouth, all teeth and tongue, it's as violent as Silco always is — no softness, nothing pleasant to be found here — but his fingers stop digging into his face and his neck.
It's not enough. What will be enough?
He digs further in, like he's searching for something that will sate his hunger. his fingers ineffectively tug at his shirt, before he finally gets a few buttons loose. His fingers follow, tugging more of his shirt open with that heated desperation, he needs — he needs more of whatever this is.
What can sate this hunger? What will quell that insatiable raging inferno that's making his heart pound so fast and so hard? His fingers light on scars that he wants to dig into, scrape furrows next to and leave lasting marks next to them, like he can leave a mark on him.
It doesn't feel like enough, it's not enough to satisfy.
Slotted on his lap, he leans forward — into that kiss a little more, still biting, still all sharp and mean — but he groans against him from the friction, rubbing up against him, sending a jolt of something electric and hungry straight down his spine. ]
[He finds bare skin as he exposes it. No, not enough. The kissing is not enough, either, neither is the exploration of those agile little fingers. It's simply suffocating. Like they're baking in a fire that desires to heat them to their bones and not let go.]
[He has an idea, though. Breaking the kiss, he's swiftly diving down to unzip his own pants, before he forces Silco's hand away from his chest to brush his abdomen, press against what is clearly growing from the shooting spikes of throbbing arousal from his spine into his groin. He's then back to completely depriving Silco of his top, here caring little for what he tears in his wake.]
I'm going to break you into two. [And now he'll take the man's earlobe in between his teeth, sucking on it as he growls.] Get ready.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[Silco "NO FRIENDS" "ULTERIOR MOTIVE".]
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I do hate to break it to you — [ He says with a put-upon sigh (he doesn't) ] — but you know more about me than anybody here, save for the gods I arrived with. Interesting, isn't it?
[ plus... ]
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[....................Glances to the side.]
I would blame that on you.
[Ignores his own checking in....and otherwise.....................]
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[ Undaunted, he stepped closer to him, just right on the edge of what would be considered comfortable. Like it's a line he's aware of, and that his toes just brush against. Toy with the line there. ]
I thought you wanted to understand me.
[ He reached up, and pressed the foil packet to his chest. ]
Now eat a cookie with me and pretend like we're normal human beings.
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[He releases the most aggravated sigh in the world, half considering just to grab the man by the collar to toss him out like yesterday's trash.]
[He closes the door instead, pulling back towards the inside of the room.]
As if we could pretend we're normal at all.[And a gesture to the other chair at the table, as he sits himself with the worst slouch possible.] You go first.
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for them at leastHe doesn't sit, but instead leaned against the end of the little table. ]
Sorry, you're right. How about barely functional, then?
[ He asked it with an eyeroll and a snap of the foil opening. He pulled one of them out, and handed the package to him. He snapped a piece off, the end, before he put it in his mouth.
Who the hell made cookies shaped like this? There was barely anything to eat. ]
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[He takes the foil, plucks out a cookie...]
[And then stares at Silco for a good long moment.]
These are barely cookies. Waste of money. [A beat.] Also? Swallow it.
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He rolled his eyes, and made a show of another chew before he swallowed. ]
And people call me paranoid? Are you that worried I'm going to poison you?
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[But fine - now that he's confirmed Silco has indeed swallowed his piece, he will take a chomp.]
[...]
Its...fine. I guess. Still kind of small....
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[ His lip curled, a hint of those teeth bared. He broke off another part and popped it into his mouth. He may not be a normal person either, but he can at least make an effort with enough motivation.
Sure, the motivation is that the demon who tried to eat his soul attacked him in his room and now he's messed up about it.
But still. ]
These might have been flying off the shelves, but... [ A shrug. ] They are hardly anything to write home about, are they? I suppose this just proves people are idiots.
[ He's so busy complaining, he doesn't really notice the slight rise in temperature. ]
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[Another bite of his own, snapping it between his teeth. There's something to the sensation of it, even if the taste is lacking.]
[No, this is nowhere near being normal. It's just a stupid cookie. Makes his stomach turn slightly, oddly.]
People really don't know what's quality. Get a proper cookie, for crying out loud.
[Vergilius sighs, glancing up at the man.]
So? Had your fun with me?
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He ate the last piece of his stick, all snapped into neat little pieces. He's still standing, one leg crossed over the other. ]
Hardly.
[ The words come out a touch more automatically than he usually speaks. His ears are tinged pink at the tips. ]
So quick to kick me out? [ A soft tut. ] Even I was more hospitable.
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[He finishes it, the last crunch a mild one. And that is that. Maybe he could eat more, but what would be the point?]
[Hardly, he says. A scoff from him, but his eyes shift to those ears, suddenly, like they're pulled there by a magnet.]
[They linger.]
....You're not the type to deserve hospitality. I think you know why.
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And here I am, trying to make nice, being told these things. Then people wonder why I so often do not try.
[ Insult here, rebuttal there, a bit like a dance. The flush takes to the back of his neck, but he does his best to ignore it. Something about it, the cookie, settles odd in his stomach. Maybe it's because he's not used to the food, but...
Hm. ]
What if you... give it to me anyway? See what happens?
[ He drug his fingers across the desk, like he's leaving a stain in his wake. ]
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[Another little jab, mildly. He should pull his eyes away, but he doesn't. watching the color move. It's an odd thing, to see so much flow to someone so pale.]
[He swallows, palpably. The man shifts his fingers over his table, and his hand moves as if by its own bidding, capturing his wrist.]
I don't know the meaning of it. So I can't give what I don't have.
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Little effort? And here I brought a gift and everything. Isn't that nice?
[ He moved to shift himself off the table, though he doesn't really go anywhere, just turned a little more toward him, looking down at him.
for onceHe focused on his lips, but he doesn't tug his hand away, but it's like he's stuck, standing there right before him. ]Don't know the meaning? [ he asks with a scoff. ] Wasn't I perfectly hospitable when you visited me?
[ The night they — ]
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[So not very nice at all. Silco moves, but Vergilius stills, his eyes vibrant like a predator's glint in the underbrush. He doesn't let go.]
[It's as if he has him right where he has him, and he feels a shiver move from his neck downwards.]
[It does feel hot. Why does it feel hot?]
I don't know if that even counted as hospitality. [His thumb shifts up the man's wrist.] Did it?
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[ The slight shrug of his shoulders is all he has. He kept looking down at him, that pit of an eye matches, more like a spotlight, searching through the darkness to see what it can find, before it meets the predator.
His lips quirked into a smile. ]
In some places it is considered quite hospitable behavior.
[ He can feel that heat down his spine, shivering down it, like it's got it taut as a wire, like it's both too hot, but that's not enough. His other hand shot out, to land on his shoulder. It rest there, a slight, but solid weight. ]
Wouldn't you say you had a good time?
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[Which is....sort of a lie, sort of not. The circumstances were hateful. Everything that happened...somehow wasn't, even if he sees it with some distaste after the fact. Or maybe that's his regret? His own hindsight?]
[It's harder to think here. The hand is so small, but it feels like a pin skewering a butterfly wing in place.]
[Something feels......off? Not off?]
...I feel sick.
[Is it really sickness. There's something brewing, like some pleasurable sense of nausea in his chest.]
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[ He says it with confidence, with that sort of self-assured smile Silco so often has. Sure, the reason he'd visited had been hateful. Silco didn't doubt that, he'd been angry about the vampire thing -- which, again, he was faultless for. (No) But he hasn't forgotten everything else he'd said that evening. What he sounded like when --
That flush still dusts his ears. He's still too hot, like he's next to a furnace, like his lean, too-thin body is shivering trying to hold back from --
What? He doesn't know. Or maybe he does, the same fluttering kick to his heart, too loud in his head. ]
Are you trying that hard to kick me out?
[ He asked, he leans forward, without thinking about it, not even really realizing what he's doing. He stared at him, leaning down to meet his eyes, so they were on the same level, only inches away. He looks for... Something, whether it's honest illness in his expression or otherwise, he isn't sure he finds what he's looking for. ]
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[Of course not. Definitely not. It wasn't good. It was terrible. He doesn't think about it. Not even a little. ]
[...It's nice to lie to himself, sometimes. Even so, his initial complaints feel like they're melting away, leaving something raw and heated, an open wound he didn't account for. It's not a new feeling. He had it that night, in the midst of bites and swallowed blood. But this feels like someone swung a hammer over his head when he least expected it.]
[Silco is bending in. Vergilius's eyes flicker - to his eyes, to his hand, to...his mouth, now. He feels a breath seize in his chest that he lets out, almost stuttering.]
I guess not. [Finally an admission, quiet, but with that he's striking like a viper, hand curling around the man's collar to yank him in.] Come here.
[It's nowhere near chaste. He's taking this kiss like he's starving for it. He won't let him go with a familiar hunger like this. Not now.]
[Maybe not ever.]
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He slotted against him easily, tugged forward by his grip, settled into his lap, straddling it. He weighs next to nothing up against him, lean and sharp, all bones and sinew. Silco snaps at his mouth when he tugs him, a bite against his lip before he can get far, but Vergilius pushes further, and his mouth opened automatically, allowing him in to pursue what he sought.
He tastes like cheap cigars and whiskey. It had been buried with all the blood, but now that his diet has been forcefully realigned, his bad habits shine through. He reached up, his fingers clawed at his neck, his jaw, a thumb traced along that scar on his face, the same one that had drawn his attention. Something in him makes him want to keep tracing it, the flush that takes to the back of his neck makes him think he would like to find the rest of his scars too, scrape his nails against them like he could open him up.
He feels frantic for it, like that flush of heat was going to roast him alive, like he needs — needs something to sate that churning fire in him — this doesn't seem enough, but...
But he feels satisfied digging his fingers into scarred flesh all the same. ]
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[Silco digs in as if to pull him apart. He can match the same, what with his hands shamelessly launching themselves at the other's collared shirt to roughly start to try to pull off his vest, open those buttons. He wants skin to skin, to douse himself in it like one would to the snow from a fire, but - no, even he knows deep down this won't help with the inferno within. It would make it worse.]
[He digs his tongue past those scarred lips into Silco's mouth, prodding, swallowing kiss after kiss. Only a few gasps of breath are allowed - he moans a little into the movement, his ears feeling like they're on fire. Its an intensity that feels like its going to split his head open if he doesn't- what? What does he need, here?]
[And what does Silco need from him?]
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It's not enough. What will be enough?
He digs further in, like he's searching for something that will sate his hunger. his fingers ineffectively tug at his shirt, before he finally gets a few buttons loose. His fingers follow, tugging more of his shirt open with that heated desperation, he needs — he needs more of whatever this is.
What can sate this hunger? What will quell that insatiable raging inferno that's making his heart pound so fast and so hard? His fingers light on scars that he wants to dig into, scrape furrows next to and leave lasting marks next to them, like he can leave a mark on him.
It doesn't feel like enough, it's not enough to satisfy.
Slotted on his lap, he leans forward — into that kiss a little more, still biting, still all sharp and mean — but he groans against him from the friction, rubbing up against him, sending a jolt of something electric and hungry straight down his spine. ]
nsfw from here.....closes eyes
[He finds bare skin as he exposes it. No, not enough. The kissing is not enough, either, neither is the exploration of those agile little fingers. It's simply suffocating. Like they're baking in a fire that desires to heat them to their bones and not let go.]
[He has an idea, though. Breaking the kiss, he's swiftly diving down to unzip his own pants, before he forces Silco's hand away from his chest to brush his abdomen, press against what is clearly growing from the shooting spikes of throbbing arousal from his spine into his groin. He's then back to completely depriving Silco of his top, here caring little for what he tears in his wake.]
I'm going to break you into two. [And now he'll take the man's earlobe in between his teeth, sucking on it as he growls.] Get ready.
😌 pocky u do the most for us
thank u pocky
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me reading my tags missing like 100 words like don't tag late kids
god when it happens and u realize after... 🤝 the worst
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my HTMLLLLLL
😔 i do not see it
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"little old me" verg you've got almost a foot on him
kinning himself as a short person
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