[ His lips peel into a little smile, at the way the fracture splits for him, letting him peek behind the curtain. His fingers relax, before they idly trail, nails scratching against where the wound had been. It's a little secret they share, the reason why they were already so intertwined, how wrought iron had wound around wrought iron, and made something jagged and unappealing.
To anyone but them, it seemed. ]
Of course, I wouldn't.
[ He says, that sharp smile still there. His eyes dart to his mouth, considering. ]
[His tone is lighter - he sees the way Silco's gaze moves to his lips, but he makes no move. Like a predator waiting for prey to twitch, to give itself away.]
[ He murmurs, low in his throat. His eyes can't help but chase the motion of his tongue on his lips, before it's back to his eyes. Slotted like they are together, it's hard to see anything but him right now.
Not that he minds. Is there anything else he wants to see right now? ]
Maybe it's to see more of you. [ He keeps his voice low, like this is a secret between them. ]
The real thing, underneath that pretense.
[ That monster that he knew existed. That violent beast slithering under his skin that still only reared its head when it caught the scent of blood. Drawing it out would keep him coming back, pushing him, and this heady... thing that existed was still a game of push and pull between them. Silco pushing, nudging, trying to tug him under with him.
Besides, I would hate to be made the fool for looking so closely, only to find you wanting.
[ Closer, closer. His nails dig into his shoulders like he could reach into him and draw him out. ]
[From what was an intrigued look from before recedes into something darker - bitter, thinking of a certain woman who stood above him, and claimed the children he helped were nothing more than a pretense, too.]
[As if by instinct, his hand reaches up, grasps a handful of the other's hair, and yanks backward. Punishment.]
[His eyes flare, like that of a hellhound.]
You really don't know, do you? You have your notions, but this is all they are. Perhaps I should call you a fool.
[ He hissed, his head yanked back, and Silco's lips peeled back into a sharper smile.
There it is. Is it punishment, if the man enjoys it? The spike of violence sends his adrenaline spiking, and his eye narrows, sharpening as he looks at him. ]
Should you?
[ He asked, watching him. When he did this? Did he really not see it? That violence, that slithering beast he could draw out with a few choice words? He leaned forward — tried to — his hair keeps him back, but he strained against his grip. ]
[His grip doesn't let up - in fact, it almost becomes tighter, like he's half ready to go the full mile, yank back, and rip off the man's head from his neck like he's pulling a flower off a stem.]
[ His breath catches from the force of it, and this time he actually winces. It's violent, it very nearly threatens to tug him under a flood of memories that he keeps trying to drown — even though it's all he can do to not think about it — his eyes look hazy, unfocused,for a half second. It's terrible, it burns at his scalp, and flutters down his spine.
Heartbeat racing, he finally focused on him, his lips peeled back into something between a grimace and a smile. It's ugly, it's sharp, it wants him to think about it. He can feel the rush of violence just as much as he can see it in his face.
He never looks away from his eyes. ]
Understanding. [ There's strain in his voice, he says it with a hiss. ] Freedom. How can you choose what you want, if you can't even see all of the options?
[ Nails digging into his shoulder, slotted against him — they're still spent, and naked — it's more intimate, to speak of this like this. Like they're already both flayed open, without pretense. ]
[It's similar to before. It's different than before. Here they are, completely well entangled mind, body, and spirit.]
[Even here, the rush to ruin is mixed with a heady, confusing heat - unable to extricate himself from this need to fight, to fuck. Silco smiles so naughtily, and he wants to shove it down his throat.]
I don't want all the options.
[Because what does freedom give him? Happiness? Hardly not.]
Besides. You just want to put me in another cage.
[He bends forward, nose pressed against the other's jawline. His breath is hot, his free hand that splays over the other's back even more so.]
[ He asks, his voice is a slithering little thing. Insidious in the way it coils, asks the question, challenges him in that. He's still strained, but Vergilius's nose is against his jaw, and it's hot and warm, his body against him, hand on his back, breath tickling his skin.
He rails against him, but surges forward. It's violent, but Silco knows nothing but violence. What would something else get him? He would crush it into pieces before even getting here. Vergilius is strong, hard, and angry — oh yes, so angry. ]
I wouldn't cage you.
[ Voice low, a tickle of it against his ear. Is it a promise, or a lie? Does he even know himself? Is it a cage that he offers, even if he doesn't hold the key? Perhaps, more honestly... ] Do you think I could?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
To anyone but them, it seemed. ]
Of course, I wouldn't.
[ He says, that sharp smile still there. His eyes dart to his mouth, considering. ]
You wouldn't be worth the attention.
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[His tone is lighter - he sees the way Silco's gaze moves to his lips, but he makes no move. Like a predator waiting for prey to twitch, to give itself away.]
[He smiles, ever faintly.]
To spite you.
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[ He watches his lips. Considering. Maybe — ]
Maybe if you did, I'd take it as a challenge, to try and draw you back out, and I already know you aren't.
[ He leans forward, lips not-quite to his yet. ] I can be persistent, you know. Especially when motivated.
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[Yes, that is a word that fits the other man well. Maybe stubborn. Arrogant. There's a lot of words to describe Silco.]
[Bad words. And yet, he doesn't seem to mind.]
[He can be described with a lot of bad words, too.]
[His tongue flicks out to whet his own lips.]
What motivates you, then?
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[ He murmurs, low in his throat. His eyes can't help but chase the motion of his tongue on his lips, before it's back to his eyes. Slotted like they are together, it's hard to see anything but him right now.
Not that he minds. Is there anything else he wants to see right now? ]
Maybe it's to see more of you. [ He keeps his voice low, like this is a secret between them. ]
The real thing, underneath that pretense.
[ That monster that he knew existed. That violent beast slithering under his skin that still only reared its head when it caught the scent of blood. Drawing it out would keep him coming back, pushing him, and this heady... thing that existed was still a game of push and pull between them. Silco pushing, nudging, trying to tug him under with him.
Besides, I would hate to be made the fool for looking so closely, only to find you wanting.
[ Closer, closer. His nails dig into his shoulders like he could reach into him and draw him out. ]
no subject
[From what was an intrigued look from before recedes into something darker - bitter, thinking of a certain woman who stood above him, and claimed the children he helped were nothing more than a pretense, too.]
[As if by instinct, his hand reaches up, grasps a handful of the other's hair, and yanks backward. Punishment.]
[His eyes flare, like that of a hellhound.]
You really don't know, do you? You have your notions, but this is all they are. Perhaps I should call you a fool.
no subject
There it is. Is it punishment, if the man enjoys it? The spike of violence sends his adrenaline spiking, and his eye narrows, sharpening as he looks at him. ]
Should you?
[ He asked, watching him. When he did this? Did he really not see it? That violence, that slithering beast he could draw out with a few choice words? He leaned forward — tried to — his hair keeps him back, but he strained against his grip. ]
I want you to see what I see.
no subject
[His grip doesn't let up - in fact, it almost becomes tighter, like he's half ready to go the full mile, yank back, and rip off the man's head from his neck like he's pulling a flower off a stem.]
What does it give me?
no subject
Heartbeat racing, he finally focused on him, his lips peeled back into something between a grimace and a smile. It's ugly, it's sharp, it wants him to think about it. He can feel the rush of violence just as much as he can see it in his face.
He never looks away from his eyes. ]
Understanding. [ There's strain in his voice, he says it with a hiss. ] Freedom. How can you choose what you want, if you can't even see all of the options?
[ Nails digging into his shoulder, slotted against him — they're still spent, and naked — it's more intimate, to speak of this like this. Like they're already both flayed open, without pretense. ]
no subject
[Even here, the rush to ruin is mixed with a heady, confusing heat - unable to extricate himself from this need to fight, to fuck. Silco smiles so naughtily, and he wants to shove it down his throat.]
I don't want all the options.
[Because what does freedom give him? Happiness? Hardly not.]
Besides. You just want to put me in another cage.
[He bends forward, nose pressed against the other's jawline. His breath is hot, his free hand that splays over the other's back even more so.]
no subject
[ He asks, his voice is a slithering little thing. Insidious in the way it coils, asks the question, challenges him in that. He's still strained, but Vergilius's nose is against his jaw, and it's hot and warm, his body against him, hand on his back, breath tickling his skin.
He rails against him, but surges forward. It's violent, but Silco knows nothing but violence. What would something else get him? He would crush it into pieces before even getting here. Vergilius is strong, hard, and angry — oh yes, so angry. ]
I wouldn't cage you.
[ Voice low, a tickle of it against his ear. Is it a promise, or a lie? Does he even know himself? Is it a cage that he offers, even if he doesn't hold the key? Perhaps, more honestly... ] Do you think I could?