[How badly...? Vergilius doesn't need to ask. He knows he doesn't need to ask, but Lobelia understands why he is. Curling his fingers into a tight ring, Lobelia beseeches Vergilius to thrust himself into his grip, just as giving as he is demanding. He won't be the only one begging, the only one slaking his ego on the confirmation of the fact they both know well.]
Just as badly as you want me... as it should be, oui?
[But that isn't the answer Vergilius craves, nor the one that he needs, Lobelia is certain. He thumbs gingerly along his tip, a harsh contrast to the tight ring of his fingers, as if toying with prey. A little more. Just a little more. As desperate as they both are, Lobelia isn't done playing with him, the delicate tips of those fingers deceptively cruel while the others, splayed along the grass, pull it up from the roots.]
Do you want me to beg, Vergilius? Do you want me to scream? My desires begin and end with you. That much will never change... no matter how many years pass, no matter how much I infuriate you. Tout ce que je veux c'est toi.
[Yes, he infuriates him. There's never been anyone like that before. His angers were wide, directed at a City and its horrors, with disdain left for a select individuals. But Lobelia especially is someone with a vile history, the blood of innocents bathing his form. All for the selfish pursuit of happiness.]
[Yes. He has never hated anyone more. And yet, he's never wanted anyone so badly.]
[What a paradox. The shift of the man's fingers over his cock make him gasp and bite down on an already wounded lip, a shudder cascading down with a new fire over his spine. He's leaking already.]
How...good for you. [His breath is ragged, but he's not tired, even as his hips jut roughly against the other's hand. He steals a kiss now, panting his words.] You'll never be done with me.
[A threat, a confession, a promise. How funny, how everything comes together.]
[Keep it from dripping, was it? Sure, Vergilius was referring to the blood now clotting in that angry red wound encircling his finger, but Lobelia twists wrist to capture what Vergilius' cock leaks onto his fingers and spreads it along his length, his touch betraying the loss of his composure.
A little more. Can he last that long? Pleasure is nothing Lobelia kept himself waiting for in the past, always eating his desserts first, but Vergilius is different. Vergilius is a dessert he wants to savor as long as possible.]
Hm... You stole the words right out of my mouth. Vergilius... Je t'aime. J'ai besoin de toi. Tu m'appartiens.
[In the midst of heated, half-bitten breaths, Lobelia spills sentient and affection. He knew he loved Vergilius from the moment he dangled happiness before his eyes like a prize to be won. By the time they made their pact, he knew that love was no passing infatuation, and now... this is certain, isn't it? This is forever.
Lobelia steals another kiss from that bloody lip, giving in to beg, to need, to demand. With Vergilius, he simply can't help it.]
You'll never be rid of me. Not in this life, not in the next. I'm done waiting.
[It's not fair, really. Lobelia was all pathetically new to this only a few weeks before. Why is the movement of his hand done with such an expert hold? His kisses, as if he's been through this for years upon years? Perhaps he has only himself to blame. A good teacher, an eager student.]
[One will learn all they can in the name of love, won't they?]
[The murmurs Lobelia pants against his lips, stinging the wounds there that smear and paint the other's mouth and chin, feel more potent than they've ever been. Je t'aime. He had shrugged that off when he had first heard it from Lobelia's lips. Now, with blood rushing into his temples, the coils of his ears, he honestly feels like he believes it.]
Not in the next, either? Ah. [Another shudder, groan pitching into the air from deep within his chest as he roughly thrusts into the other's grip.] Greedy. You're so greedy..a-ah....
[Dearest Lobelia. The greediest of all.]
[And here, he overflows, gasping, sucking onto Lobelia's lower lip as he lets himself empty out with a full body shiver - though even though he's feeling the heat lower from his high, it still hasn't abated.]
[Lobelia is a quick study, always has been, and someone who devotes himself fully to the things that interest him. With a teacher as diligent as Vergilius, would it not be terribly insulting to shrug off his lessons? In so little time, he's taught him so very much — how to please, how to satisfy, how to tease — and the best gift any student can give their teacher is a demonstration of all they've learned.
Still, who's to say he can't innovate on perfection? Lobelia feels that telltale, rhythmic pulsing against his palm and smiles, all teeth, the resulting mess confined to the fingers he licks clean. Mixed with the flavor of blood on his tongue, Lobelia has never tasted anything finer. is this what the cool kids call umami]
Non...? I would hope not, mon cher Vergilius. We've only just begun.
[Hope those old bones can keep up! That restless energy humming beneath Vergilius' skin is palpable, and clearly he needs it all excised so he can relax and forget all about the nightmares they endured together, but it's not as if Lobelia is entirely selfless. Never is, never will be.
Lobelia doesn't leave Vergilius to linger in the afterglow for very long, lest that fire in him cool, dragging the man's hand down to his groin and shoving it in his pants. The rough fabric can't feel good rubbing into that bloody wound around his finger, but that's all the better. Let it sting. Let Vergilius remember who left this particular scar.]
No matter how much I take of you, I still crave more. Plus, plus, plus. Vergilius... Are you quite certain you can satisfy me?
[A quiet voice inside of him, somehow even heard above the rush of blood, asks "Is this necessary? Do you deserve this? Why indulge in this, knowing it fixes nothing?"]
[Another voice says "Keep going until you both fuck each other to oblivion."]
[Oblivion. What a word. It's not like he wants to forget. His memory he has is all that if left of his children, his office family, the events of that horrific day. No, he wants oblivion for these feelings. He recognizes them as suddenly as remembering the face of an old friend. When he had lost everything, he had wanted to destroy everything.]
[And now, he is channeling them into Lobelia. He will destroy him, raze him like the fields until there's barely a gasp left. Perhaps he really has become the Tower in his own way, fated to annihilate.]
[He hisses at the raw feeling of his wound being rubbed, but he has always tolerated pain. Vergilius chuckles.]
...Who else could? [He kisses him, hungry.] Who else could.
[No dice? Lobelia laughs, burying Vergilius' hand further into his pants. He wants to feel the same rush of release, but Lobelia can wait, as he always has, for that momentary happiness. In the interim, every kiss is met with eagerness, hunger, teething along that bloodied bottom lip.]
No one else. Seulement vous.
[No one else has fulfilled him as fully as Vergilius does, in all the ways Vergilius does. Lobelia knows what fleeting happiness feels like better than most, and by the same token, he knows what it feels like when happiness is meant to last.
His infatuation with Vergilius only grows by the day, as does his impatience, rutting up against that rough palm with no ounce of shame. Why should he care if he's chastised for his impatience? No matter how Vergilius responds, Lobelia will simply covet his attention.]
How does that make you feel, Vergilius? I have eyes for no one but you. That will never change.
Given that is what I asked of you...it is what I expect.
[The movement makes his wound smart, fingers curling over his shaft. It's rough and imperfect in all the right ways. Their blood oath is binding - Vergilius is too faithful a person in all ways to ever go back on it. He says what he says, and he means what he says.]
[He turns his head to press his teeth against the ridges of the other's ear - as he does so, even within the confines of fabric, he flicks his wrist to stroke hard over the other's cock. His hot breath pours into the man's ear, the rasp of it tinged with desire, pleasure.]
I hope you aren't thinking of going back on our arrangement, Lobelia...
[Where else could he get happiness from? Let him dash upon the rocks of the cliff he's created for him in his throes.]
[Will Lobelia admit that he's bitten off more than he can chew? No, never, but it's in the way he sharply gasps like a drowning person finally breaching the water, sensitive ears exposed to the guttering rasp of Vergilius' voice. His breaths seize in his lungs like he's been suddenly submerged in ice cold water when in fact the opposite is true, every inch of his body burning beneath Vergilius' touch, the worst of it centralized in his gut.
He won't last at all, not like this, and Lobelia instinctively thrusts a hand down to arrest Vergilius' wrist. Still, is he really intent on stopping him? No, no, as if he could. Instead, Lobelia relents with a shuddering laugh and undoes the front of his slacks, leaving Vergilius to do as he pleases. It's fine if he doesn't last more than a minute or two, isn't it? They're not nearly done with each other. They'll never be done with each other.
In the meantime, Lobelia's fingers crawl up the front of Vergilius' hips, his abdomen, his chest, forever fixated on that constellation of scars that mar his body. To him, they're all so beautiful, all so dear.]
As if... I would do such a thing. Jusqu'en enfer. Really though... can you imagine me being disloyal, knowing me as you do?
[He doesn't want Lobelia to last. He may not have witnessed how the man met his end, but he would agree with the Tower on this. Bring him to death, destroy him, rebuild him, start again. It doesn't matter what kind of death. A bloody death. A sweet death. A little death.]
[And so, Lobelia opening up to give him access is an invitation. He groans at the light touch to his sides, moving to lick a thin line down over chest, the swells of his abs. It's so hot on his tongue. He feels he could drown in it.]
No. I couldn't. After all, you are nothing but devoted.
[He grasps the other's cock roughly, gnarled fingers surrounding the base before he dips his head down to lick the underside. A low rumble emnatates from his throat, vibrating through skin. Dear Lobelia. Damned Lobelia.]
And such devotion...desires its price.
[And there's no other warning - he takes him by loosening his grip and sucking down hotly on the tip with a moan, wanting to coax his downfall and reap the rewards. All of it, for him.]
[A price...? Lobelia isn't slow on the uptake, not usually, but he's struggling to cobble together a meaning from Vergilius' words while he licks a trail down his body before enveloping him in his mouth.
Has he always been so simple a man? This easily outdone by Vergilius' mouth... but it's always been this way, Lobelia realizes. No one has picked him apart and deconstructed him as effortlessly as Vergilius. No one has Brought him to death, destroyed him, and rebuilt him like Vergilius has, crafting something worse and worse from him with each cycle.
Only Vergilius manages to break that veneer of unflappable giddy with such little effort, thrusting Lobelia right over the edge into release by simply taking his cock into his mouth. Ah. The heady afterglow is not enough to wall Lobelia off from his frustrations, visibly petulant and audibly huffing.
Terrible, awful, horrible. Is this what shame feels like? Suddenly, struggling to understand emotion as normal people feel it isn't so bad after all.]
Un prix, was it? Hmph. Would you consider this adequate compensation?
[The stream of heat pours into his mouth - its been a while since he's done, well, anything quite like this, but he's determined to keep himself where he is. Lobelia might be hungry, void of a man that he is, but Vergilius is an endless well in his own right. He grunts as he takes it in, swallowing thickly. It's bitter and awful and it burns. Its what he deserves.]
[After a moment, he pulls away, lips stained and dripping from what he could not keep - he moves to wipe it off with the back of his arm, red eyes fixed on that juvenile expression.]
[Ah.]
[A smile graces his lips, pleased as anything. What a beautiful little downturn of his eyebrows. He moves ahead, body overshadowing Lobelia's like a curtain, and moves to kiss over that knitted brow, that wrinkled nose, and then finally a kiss to seal it, letting Lobelia still taste himself on his tongue.]
[He pulls away, tone rumbling like a growl.]
You're cute. [Very cute. He means to say it to dig under the skin further, a blatant tease.] And come now. This is hardly enough. Be careful what you wish for.
[Ah... Should he find these kisses offensive or comforting? Is Vergilius mocking him, or is he trying to pacify him? Well, he needn't ask himself these questions. In his heart of hearts, Lobelia knows the answer, scowling just a little more severely in the wake of that bitter, salty kiss.
With a very dramatic, very put upon sigh:]
I know, Vergilius. There are few cuter than I, but do not try to pacify me. It's on me to rectify my mistake.
[What a good man his wife is, clearly trying to soothe his battered ego............ but really, Lobelia saw that attempt to burrow a little further under his skin and chose instead to hear only what he wants to hear. Thank you for comforting him, dear.
No amount of shame can keep him from leaning into every kiss, but he does take Vergilius' hand and guide it back to his cock which is, incredibly, just as hard as before. He has the power of youth on his side, you see.]
Try again, mon amour. I promise I will leave you with an ache in your lips and a severe case of lockjaw. Je promets! I won't fail you twice!
[Now its Vergilius's turn to scowl when his hand is moved down and he feels that nothing has abated here. Holy No Refractory Period, Batman!]
Now that you're asking for a second chance, I almost want to say no. [After all, he is the type of person who doesn't like giving people what they want. Lobelia especially, pact or no pact.] Are you really this eager?
[He'll let his hand drift down, past the shaft, to fully grip him by the balls to. Give them a hard squeeze. That's what you get, dear husband. :)]
[Refractory periods are for nerds. Lobelia is fine, perfectly fine, and raring to go— until Vergilius mercilessly squeezes his balls? Hello??]
Aieee! J'abandonne!
[In true French fashion, Lobelia doesn't take long to throw in the white flag, hand darting down to grasp Vergilius' wrist. Congratulations, wife! You've learned the limits of Lobelia's pain kink. For the record, he's not hard anymore, so thanks for taking care of that for him.]
That's quite underhanded, Vergilius! Such tactics are unbecoming!
[The moment Vergilius relents is the moment Lobelia curls forward and buries his face in his assailant's shoulder. Woe is he, his balls aching terribly... Comfort him, bully.]
Everyone has limits, chéri. How would you like it if I treated you the same way?
[Lobelia's just gonna snake a hand down like he intends to repay the favor, but even if Vergilius lets him get that far, Lobelia won't subject his balls to such torment. He said he wouldn't hurt Vergilius anymore, after all.]
I don't even know if you're strong enough for that.
[His hand does go to slide around the other's back, splaying fingers against his upper back to keep him close. Body against body. For as much as he was teasing Lobelia earlier with the cute comment, the feeling of the man's head tucked in the crook of his neck makes something sincere twinge in his chest, a soft, aching feeling. A sweet toothache.]
Mm. [How funny. It's like Lobelia is so vulnerable here, even if he knows very well he isn't. He's not even going to stop his hand moving where it does.] Serves you right for that attitude.
[He's longed for years to simply be held in a loving embrace again and hadn't even realized it, but when Vergilius' hand winds around him, his heart aches terribly. On impulse, Lobelia frees up both hands to squeeze Vergilius in his arms. He'll betray his lover's trust and bust his balls some other time, but for right now, the best remedy for his aches and pains is simply Vergilius' warm embrace.]
You expect far too much modesty from me. I believe that is your issue.
Not as strong as me. If we took your audiomancy away from you, where would you be? I'd pulverize you to dust.
[He says it matter-of-fact as anything. The arms wrap around him. He wants to sink into them, suddenly. The memories he was trying to push back from what just happened feel like they've been brought to the forefront again. Warm touches, love, the gentle laughter of children.]
[He holds Lobelia tenderly, like he hasn't held anyone in a long, long time.]
... [It takes a moment for him to say anything.] Oh? What should I expect, then...?
What a silly thing to say, Vergilius. If you take away the source of anyone's strength, they become weak.
[He'd sought this embrace out for purely selfish reasons, but he isn't the only one benefitting from it, Lobelia realizes. Distracting each other with their bodies can only do so much to detract from the nightmares they'd walked through together, the agony so much more poignant for Vergilius. To that end, this hug might be just what Vergilius needs.
So, about that nap. It's certainly not off the table, Lobelia bringing them down on their sides in the grass while still tucked in their embrace. If they want to smash each other's brains out, they can do that later. After all, they've got nothing but time now. They've got nothing but each other.]
But you can expect that I'll act on your behalf should that strength of yours ever fail you. Call me an égotiste if you will, but I'm confident in my abilities. They're enough to protect even you, and of that I am nothing but certain.
[He tips along with him, still holding him close. Lobelia. Of all people, Lobelia. Who would've even thought this could happen? Them right now, held so close?]
[He doesn't know what to feel. Even sex was only something temporary to keep everything at bay, like a measly little barrier to keep away a flood.]
[He still doesn't cry.]
[Maybe he just doesn't know how to.]
...Hah. [An exhale of a laugh, tickling the other's ear.] You make me sound like a damsel in distress.
[Everyone needs a helping hand every now and then, even crotchety old men like Vergilius. If he won't fight for the sake of his own interests, why can't Lobelia take up the mantle?
Lobelia shifts, fingers idly combing through Vergilius' hair. What will it take to lift his spirits? Time, perhaps, in the absence of anything more comforting. Warm arms and quiet words are all Lobelia knows to offer, for whatever those things are worth.]
Who do you turn to in times of need, Vergilius? You know it's foolish to bottle up every ounce of pain and expect it not to burn you a second time.
[Not that Lobelia has much room to talk, having isolated himself from the wider world long ago, but he doesn't feel pain as Vergilius does.]
[Life is easier to move through alone. Lobelia knows this well, but a lonely life is an unhappy one. As such, he won't allow Vergilius to overlook the pact they've made to one another and the bond that comes along with it, his touch softening as if to implore Vergilius to listen well.]
I won't leave you behind. Not in this life and certainly not in the last. Do you think me so weak that I cannot shoulder your burden with you?
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Just as badly as you want me... as it should be, oui?
[But that isn't the answer Vergilius craves, nor the one that he needs, Lobelia is certain. He thumbs gingerly along his tip, a harsh contrast to the tight ring of his fingers, as if toying with prey. A little more. Just a little more. As desperate as they both are, Lobelia isn't done playing with him, the delicate tips of those fingers deceptively cruel while the others, splayed along the grass, pull it up from the roots.]
Do you want me to beg, Vergilius? Do you want me to scream? My desires begin and end with you. That much will never change... no matter how many years pass, no matter how much I infuriate you. Tout ce que je veux c'est toi.
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[Yes. He has never hated anyone more. And yet, he's never wanted anyone so badly.]
[What a paradox. The shift of the man's fingers over his cock make him gasp and bite down on an already wounded lip, a shudder cascading down with a new fire over his spine. He's leaking already.]
How...good for you. [His breath is ragged, but he's not tired, even as his hips jut roughly against the other's hand. He steals a kiss now, panting his words.] You'll never be done with me.
[A threat, a confession, a promise. How funny, how everything comes together.]
[A little more. Just a little more.]
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A little more. Can he last that long? Pleasure is nothing Lobelia kept himself waiting for in the past, always eating his desserts first, but Vergilius is different. Vergilius is a dessert he wants to savor as long as possible.]
Hm... You stole the words right out of my mouth. Vergilius... Je t'aime. J'ai besoin de toi. Tu m'appartiens.
[In the midst of heated, half-bitten breaths, Lobelia spills sentient and affection. He knew he loved Vergilius from the moment he dangled happiness before his eyes like a prize to be won. By the time they made their pact, he knew that love was no passing infatuation, and now... this is certain, isn't it? This is forever.
Lobelia steals another kiss from that bloody lip, giving in to beg, to need, to demand. With Vergilius, he simply can't help it.]
You'll never be rid of me. Not in this life, not in the next. I'm done waiting.
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[It's not fair, really. Lobelia was all pathetically new to this only a few weeks before. Why is the movement of his hand done with such an expert hold? His kisses, as if he's been through this for years upon years? Perhaps he has only himself to blame. A good teacher, an eager student.]
[One will learn all they can in the name of love, won't they?]
[The murmurs Lobelia pants against his lips, stinging the wounds there that smear and paint the other's mouth and chin, feel more potent than they've ever been. Je t'aime. He had shrugged that off when he had first heard it from Lobelia's lips. Now, with blood rushing into his temples, the coils of his ears, he honestly feels like he believes it.]
Not in the next, either? Ah. [Another shudder, groan pitching into the air from deep within his chest as he roughly thrusts into the other's grip.] Greedy. You're so greedy..a-ah....
[Dearest Lobelia. The greediest of all.]
[And here, he overflows, gasping, sucking onto Lobelia's lower lip as he lets himself empty out with a full body shiver - though even though he's feeling the heat lower from his high, it still hasn't abated.]
[His words come like a rumble of a growl.]
I'm not...done with you.
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Still, who's to say he can't innovate on perfection? Lobelia feels that telltale, rhythmic pulsing against his palm and smiles, all teeth, the resulting mess confined to the fingers he licks clean. Mixed with the flavor of blood on his tongue, Lobelia has never tasted anything finer.
is this what the cool kids call umami]Non...? I would hope not, mon cher Vergilius. We've only just begun.
[Hope those old bones can keep up! That restless energy humming beneath Vergilius' skin is palpable, and clearly he needs it all excised so he can relax and forget all about the nightmares they endured together, but it's not as if Lobelia is entirely selfless. Never is, never will be.
Lobelia doesn't leave Vergilius to linger in the afterglow for very long, lest that fire in him cool, dragging the man's hand down to his groin and shoving it in his pants. The rough fabric can't feel good rubbing into that bloody wound around his finger, but that's all the better. Let it sting. Let Vergilius remember who left this particular scar.]
No matter how much I take of you, I still crave more. Plus, plus, plus. Vergilius... Are you quite certain you can satisfy me?
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[Another voice says "Keep going until you both fuck each other to oblivion."]
[Oblivion. What a word. It's not like he wants to forget. His memory he has is all that if left of his children, his office family, the events of that horrific day. No, he wants oblivion for these feelings. He recognizes them as suddenly as remembering the face of an old friend. When he had lost everything, he had wanted to destroy everything.]
[And now, he is channeling them into Lobelia. He will destroy him, raze him like the fields until there's barely a gasp left. Perhaps he really has become the Tower in his own way, fated to annihilate.]
[He hisses at the raw feeling of his wound being rubbed, but he has always tolerated pain. Vergilius chuckles.]
...Who else could? [He kisses him, hungry.] Who else could.
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No one else. Seulement vous.
[No one else has fulfilled him as fully as Vergilius does, in all the ways Vergilius does. Lobelia knows what fleeting happiness feels like better than most, and by the same token, he knows what it feels like when happiness is meant to last.
His infatuation with Vergilius only grows by the day, as does his impatience, rutting up against that rough palm with no ounce of shame. Why should he care if he's chastised for his impatience? No matter how Vergilius responds, Lobelia will simply covet his attention.]
How does that make you feel, Vergilius? I have eyes for no one but you. That will never change.
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[The movement makes his wound smart, fingers curling over his shaft. It's rough and imperfect in all the right ways. Their blood oath is binding - Vergilius is too faithful a person in all ways to ever go back on it. He says what he says, and he means what he says.]
[He turns his head to press his teeth against the ridges of the other's ear - as he does so, even within the confines of fabric, he flicks his wrist to stroke hard over the other's cock. His hot breath pours into the man's ear, the rasp of it tinged with desire, pleasure.]
I hope you aren't thinking of going back on our arrangement, Lobelia...
[Where else could he get happiness from? Let him dash upon the rocks of the cliff he's created for him in his throes.]
[He palms over the man's tip, sighing.]
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He won't last at all, not like this, and Lobelia instinctively thrusts a hand down to arrest Vergilius' wrist. Still, is he really intent on stopping him? No, no, as if he could. Instead, Lobelia relents with a shuddering laugh and undoes the front of his slacks, leaving Vergilius to do as he pleases. It's fine if he doesn't last more than a minute or two, isn't it? They're not nearly done with each other. They'll never be done with each other.
In the meantime, Lobelia's fingers crawl up the front of Vergilius' hips, his abdomen, his chest, forever fixated on that constellation of scars that mar his body. To him, they're all so beautiful, all so dear.]
As if... I would do such a thing. Jusqu'en enfer. Really though... can you imagine me being disloyal, knowing me as you do?
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[And so, Lobelia opening up to give him access is an invitation. He groans at the light touch to his sides, moving to lick a thin line down over chest, the swells of his abs. It's so hot on his tongue. He feels he could drown in it.]
No. I couldn't. After all, you are nothing but devoted.
[He grasps the other's cock roughly, gnarled fingers surrounding the base before he dips his head down to lick the underside. A low rumble emnatates from his throat, vibrating through skin. Dear Lobelia. Damned Lobelia.]
And such devotion...desires its price.
[And there's no other warning - he takes him by loosening his grip and sucking down hotly on the tip with a moan, wanting to coax his downfall and reap the rewards. All of it, for him.]
[And much more to come.]
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Has he always been so simple a man? This easily outdone by Vergilius' mouth... but it's always been this way, Lobelia realizes. No one has picked him apart and deconstructed him as effortlessly as Vergilius. No one has Brought him to death, destroyed him, and rebuilt him like Vergilius has, crafting something worse and worse from him with each cycle.
Only Vergilius manages to break that veneer of unflappable giddy with such little effort, thrusting Lobelia right over the edge into release by simply taking his cock into his mouth. Ah. The heady afterglow is not enough to wall Lobelia off from his frustrations, visibly petulant and audibly huffing.
Terrible, awful, horrible. Is this what shame feels like? Suddenly, struggling to understand emotion as normal people feel it isn't so bad after all.]
Un prix, was it? Hmph. Would you consider this adequate compensation?
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[After a moment, he pulls away, lips stained and dripping from what he could not keep - he moves to wipe it off with the back of his arm, red eyes fixed on that juvenile expression.]
[Ah.]
[A smile graces his lips, pleased as anything. What a beautiful little downturn of his eyebrows. He moves ahead, body overshadowing Lobelia's like a curtain, and moves to kiss over that knitted brow, that wrinkled nose, and then finally a kiss to seal it, letting Lobelia still taste himself on his tongue.]
[He pulls away, tone rumbling like a growl.]
You're cute. [Very cute. He means to say it to dig under the skin further, a blatant tease.] And come now. This is hardly enough. Be careful what you wish for.
[Another kiss.]
Unless you can't take the heat?
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With a very dramatic, very put upon sigh:]
I know, Vergilius. There are few cuter than I, but do not try to pacify me. It's on me to rectify my mistake.
[What a good man his wife is, clearly trying to soothe his battered ego............ but really, Lobelia saw that attempt to burrow a little further under his skin and chose instead to hear only what he wants to hear. Thank you for comforting him, dear.
No amount of shame can keep him from leaning into every kiss, but he does take Vergilius' hand and guide it back to his cock which is, incredibly, just as hard as before. He has the power of youth on his side, you see.]
Try again, mon amour. I promise I will leave you with an ache in your lips and a severe case of lockjaw. Je promets! I won't fail you twice!
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Now that you're asking for a second chance, I almost want to say no. [After all, he is the type of person who doesn't like giving people what they want. Lobelia especially, pact or no pact.] Are you really this eager?
[He'll let his hand drift down, past the shaft, to fully grip him by the balls to. Give them a hard squeeze. That's what you get, dear husband. :)]
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Aieee! J'abandonne!
[In true French fashion, Lobelia doesn't take long to throw in the white flag, hand darting down to grasp Vergilius' wrist. Congratulations, wife! You've learned the limits of Lobelia's pain kink. For the record, he's not hard anymore, so thanks for taking care of that for him.]
That's quite underhanded, Vergilius! Such tactics are unbecoming!
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[He does relent, pulling his hand back - his red eyes are aflame, like a demon. A ball-crushing demon.]
Oh? I'm sorry. This old guide thought you were asking him to put you in your place.
[Here, have a little peck of a kiss - almost gentle and playful compared with being an absolute bastard, here.]
Here I thought you liked pain. Could've fooled me.
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Everyone has limits, chéri. How would you like it if I treated you the same way?
[Lobelia's just gonna snake a hand down like he intends to repay the favor, but even if Vergilius lets him get that far, Lobelia won't subject his balls to such torment. He said he wouldn't hurt Vergilius anymore, after all.]
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[His hand does go to slide around the other's back, splaying fingers against his upper back to keep him close. Body against body. For as much as he was teasing Lobelia earlier with the cute comment, the feeling of the man's head tucked in the crook of his neck makes something sincere twinge in his chest, a soft, aching feeling. A sweet toothache.]
Mm. [How funny. It's like Lobelia is so vulnerable here, even if he knows very well he isn't. He's not even going to stop his hand moving where it does.] Serves you right for that attitude.
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[He's longed for years to simply be held in a loving embrace again and hadn't even realized it, but when Vergilius' hand winds around him, his heart aches terribly. On impulse, Lobelia frees up both hands to squeeze Vergilius in his arms. He'll betray his lover's trust and bust his balls some other time, but for right now, the best remedy for his aches and pains is simply Vergilius' warm embrace.]
You expect far too much modesty from me. I believe that is your issue.
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[He says it matter-of-fact as anything. The arms wrap around him. He wants to sink into them, suddenly. The memories he was trying to push back from what just happened feel like they've been brought to the forefront again. Warm touches, love, the gentle laughter of children.]
[He holds Lobelia tenderly, like he hasn't held anyone in a long, long time.]
... [It takes a moment for him to say anything.] Oh? What should I expect, then...?
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[He'd sought this embrace out for purely selfish reasons, but he isn't the only one benefitting from it, Lobelia realizes. Distracting each other with their bodies can only do so much to detract from the nightmares they'd walked through together, the agony so much more poignant for Vergilius. To that end, this hug might be just what Vergilius needs.
So, about that nap. It's certainly not off the table, Lobelia bringing them down on their sides in the grass while still tucked in their embrace. If they want to smash each other's brains out, they can do that later. After all, they've got nothing but time now. They've got nothing but each other.]
But you can expect that I'll act on your behalf should that strength of yours ever fail you. Call me an égotiste if you will, but I'm confident in my abilities. They're enough to protect even you, and of that I am nothing but certain.
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[He tips along with him, still holding him close. Lobelia. Of all people, Lobelia. Who would've even thought this could happen? Them right now, held so close?]
[He doesn't know what to feel. Even sex was only something temporary to keep everything at bay, like a measly little barrier to keep away a flood.]
[He still doesn't cry.]
[Maybe he just doesn't know how to.]
...Hah. [An exhale of a laugh, tickling the other's ear.] You make me sound like a damsel in distress.
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Lobelia shifts, fingers idly combing through Vergilius' hair. What will it take to lift his spirits? Time, perhaps, in the absence of anything more comforting. Warm arms and quiet words are all Lobelia knows to offer, for whatever those things are worth.]
Who do you turn to in times of need, Vergilius? You know it's foolish to bottle up every ounce of pain and expect it not to burn you a second time.
[Not that Lobelia has much room to talk, having isolated himself from the wider world long ago, but he doesn't feel pain as Vergilius does.]
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[That's the honest truth. After everyone died, even Lapis, in her own way, there was no one else.]
[The lone guide, carrying the burden of thousands of lost souls.]
I can handle it. [He makes a soft noise at the hand in his hair, red eyes fluttering a little - the eyelashes brush Lobelia's cheek.] I always have.
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[Life is easier to move through alone. Lobelia knows this well, but a lonely life is an unhappy one. As such, he won't allow Vergilius to overlook the pact they've made to one another and the bond that comes along with it, his touch softening as if to implore Vergilius to listen well.]
I won't leave you behind. Not in this life and certainly not in the last. Do you think me so weak that I cannot shoulder your burden with you?
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