[he can also clone himself with audiomancy, don't ask me about that shit either
Well, he certainly wouldn't mind performing for Vergilius... but given the circumstances, he would rather hear this old bird sing for him. Lobelia is about to suggest as much when Vergilius starts shaking down his mattress for some reason?
No, no, this scenario feels all too familiar. He must suspect Lobelia is going to record this, and as expected, a series of conch shells come tumbling out of the mattress.]
Oh! You've unearthed my collection. Did you want to listen to them together...?
[Clearly Vergilius is just fascinated with his craft and wants to work himself up by listening to the sounds of destruction Lobelia has recorded with his conches. Clearly!!]
[Except he just sneers, displeased but not surprised. A few more shakes, and he's putting the bed down to pick up the shells in his hands, moving to the bathroom.]
[You'd better not be thinking about hurting his precious conches, Vergilius! Lobelia heaves a heavy sigh, but he does as he's told and wanders into the bathroom to fill up the tub.]
Do you intend to wash my conques for me?
[As if. If submerging them in water makes Vergilius feel better, then Lobelia won't stop him. Still, what a shame... He'll just have to settle for committing the sounds of Vergilius' body to memory.]
[Is. Is he not going to stop until he's unearthed every conch...? There are a few more to be found hanging out on window sills and tables, but the lion's share of the conches are hidden in the depths of Lobelia's coat pockets. He's hoping Vergilius won't think to frisk him.]
Heh-haha! So straightforward. There really isn't a romantique bone in your body...
[Truly, none of Vergilius' bones want him. Lobelia is at least somewhat compliant, shrugging his coat from his shoulders and carefully folding it over a chair behind him. Smooth. Casual. Vergilius will never in a million years know his hammerspace pockets are loaded with conches.]
[Yep, he's as bare as a frozen tundra when it comes to true romantic emotion. Aren't you so lucky, Lobelia? Your first time, being done with such little feeling?]
I'd rather not have to ruin more clothing.
[So that's likely a no.]
[He is beelining towards that coat, though, HE'S SEEN YOU PULL CONCHES FROM IT, PUNK. TAKING IT TO THE BATHROOM, BINCH.]
[It sure is fortuitous that Lobelia's never cared about sex until now! Even so, sexual gratification is one of the last things on his mind. He's far more interested in thinking about what sort of sounds he can coax out of Vergilius than what it might feel like to get railed, but everyone has their thing. Vergilius understands, surely.]
[But there's no sense in trying to stop Vergilius now, so Lobelia just focuses on undressing... slowly. By the time Vergilius has added another 50+ conches to the tub, Lobelia will have worked his way down to his pants. Someone's clearly taking their time.]
[INTO THE WATER IT GOES TO DIE A LONELY DROWNING DEATH. Jesus. There are so many conches. What the hell.]
[He's coming back, though, after all of that, and the man is still going. Vergilius glances up and down, before quirking an eyebrow. Yes, of course, everyone has their Thing, but even this is...]
Don't tell me you're shy.
[After all that horny talk....the true Lobelia...]
You're truly a cruel man, Vergilius, but at least Lobelia has his fuckboy summer outfit to run around in while he dries his poor coat later. When he's accused of being shy, of all things, Lobelia belts out a laugh.]
Is that your assessment of me? Don't be silly! I have no reason to be shy.
[This is the body of a man who spends plenty of time looking at himself in the mirror, Verg. You only wish he had the decency to be shy.]
And what about vous? I see you're still fully dressed. Go on! Put on a proper show for me!
[Lobelia slips out of his slacks and sets them aside, but if Vergilius wants him to take his underwear off, he'll have to take them off his damn self. Perching on the edge of the mattress, Lobelia watches Vergilius expectantly.]
[Life would be so much better if Lobelia was shy. Except maybe he would be shy in a new messed up way.]
[When Lobelia turns the tables on him, Vergilius closes his eyes, exasperated. It's not like he can hold back on this forever. He's here, the conches are out, and it's showtime.]
[...........So he starts pulling off his clothes with as much aplomb as if he's about to head to the shower after a long day. No fanfare. No sneak peeks or quick glances. Shirt off. Shorts off. All dumped unceremoniously on the floor.]
[His body is as scarred as his hands - the lines criss-cross over dull skin, some even layered. A tapestry of the brunt of injury he's borne over the years.]
[So anticlimactic, but what might be worse is the way Lobelia is studying Vergilius' body with a certain scientific curiosity. This man has clearly forged a path to hell and back with all the scars to show for it, but what piques Lobelia's interest more is whatever might be going on just beneath the surface.
By comparison, there's very little by way of injuries to be seen on Lobelia's skin. On the sole of one foot is a scar from a conch he'd stepped on as a boy β the catalyst for a life of destruction and ruin β but little else. The sheer contrast between their bodies has Lobelia snickering all over again.]
[But Vergilius didn't sign up to be flayed alive, so that will have to wait. Alas! Lobelia's feeling helpful, so he snaps his fingers and blows Vergilius' underwear into fine shreds of confetti. Ta-da.]
How long do you intent to keep me waiting? It's not as if you've put forth any effort to set the scène. If you like, I can light some candles and play you a most glorious hymne...
[...Which would require making a quick trip to the bathroom to grab a conch or five. How about it? Turned on yet??]
[Not if he can help it. If this is a displeasing, boring affair, then all the better for it. Let Lobelia reap nothing from the soil of this encounter. He wanted so much, and he gets the bare minimum.]
[All it takes is to make sure he stays stoic through the whole thing. All this is, is merely physical. Nothing more.]
[He moves to press his hand against Lobelia's shoulder to push him down against the mattress, moving to hover over him with hands pressed against the sheets on either side of his head.]
You really haven't done anything like this, have you?
[The muscle under Vergilius' palm is stiff though not out of anything like reluctance or hesitation. It speaks to Lobelia's lack of experience that he relaxes only when he's been pushed onto the bed and understands why, straightening out his legs so Vergilius has easier access to his body. Mount him, Grandpa. He's ready for you.
Perhaps some men would be ashamed to admit to a lack of experience, but not Lobelia. Who can satisfy his needs better than himself? Sex won't make him happy, but making Vergilius suffer through it with him will.
Lobelia shakes his head without hesitation.]
Non. Do you suppose I should have? There's little in it for me, and that's why I haven't.
Sort of surprising. It's pain and pleasure, after all.
[Also still a little surprising given how he acts. Depravity soaking through his entire wretched being, yet pure in the body. Somehow. Then again, he thinks, anyone sane probably would run miles away before jumping into bed with this man.]
[He lets out a little huff, moving a hand to slide a finger underneath the edge of the other's underwear to start pulling it down.]
[you BINCH. His eyebrows furrowed, he pulls it down and off, tossing it away. Bye.]
[He's bracing himself again over the other man, not even looking down - just meeting the man eye to glowing red eye. An exhale - he pauses, a part of him thinking this was somehow much more enjoyable of a prospect in the midst of viscera and blood, even if only by a margin - before he leans his head down, hovering lips over lips.]
[There's a low rumble of a laugh lodged in his throat, but Lobelia is actively trying not to ruin whatever semblance of a mood they can build up between them. It feels strange being entirely bare beneath another person, but as of right now, that's all it feels. Perhaps he's also incapable of enjoying pleasure like the common man? The thought makes Lobelia chuckle again.]
[Not that Lobelia is any better, meeting Vergilius halfway to fit their lips together. On the way out of that kiss, he drags his teeth along Vergilius' bottom lip.]
[.............That's a bit of a lie. Just a bit. But he won't give information for Lobelia to smear right back on him as much as he wants. The less he knows, the better. Let this be as mysterious and as empty as any tryst, he thinks.]
[(That's already a failure, though, given that his emotions regarding the man are far past neutral.)]
[The man leans up to kiss him - its not quite like any of the kisses he had before, even if the elements are there. A copy of the way those teeth pull over his lip, even.]
[It's not hard enough.]
[He returns the kiss, now - and although he could make it bland, flavorless, chaste like before, he decides to be a little lenient - a mirrored move, to worry at the other's lip as he sighs into the other's mouth.]
[It's getting there, the throb of his bottom lip almost pleasant when Vergilius draws back, a thin sigh exhaled through his nose, but it's not quite enough to satisfy. Shouldn't it please him that Vergilius is putting some effort into the act? Make him happy, even? But it doesn't, the answer dawning on Lobelia quickly enough.
It's not hard enough.
What if that throbbing lingered just a little bit longer? What if it ached? Would that satisfy him?
Lobelia lifts his arms to loosely circle Vergilius' shoulders, nails drawing along that canvas of scars. A curious touch here, a scratch there, all in an effort to see if tugging at old wounds stirs anything in the other man.]
That's a shame, but it's no surprise. That means you've never been with someone who truly satisfait you.
[Now that makes him let out a breathless little huff of a laugh, side of his mouth quirking upward. The nails tickle - he almost instinctively flexes his shoulders a little as they move down his back. They don't hurt, not anymore. Its as part of him as all of he's experienced, at this point.]
And are you going to say that you'll be the one who will? What a silly daydream.
[He tilts his head to plant another kiss against the other's lips, before moving to grant him another on the corner. Nothing special. Nothing more. The little shiver of interest with the bite from before has abated.]
[That garners a laugh, this one a bit less measured, a lot more earnest in its harshness.]
Pas du tout! Pursuing happiness is your responsibility.
[I couldn't care less whether you're satisfied or not. I'd much rather you not be.
It's so absurd an assumption that Lobelia seeks to punish him for it, turning his head to catch that second kiss and bite Vergilius' lip harshly enough to leave a mark. Shame on you, old man.]
But it will all be mine in the end. Just remember that.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Well, he certainly wouldn't mind performing for Vergilius... but given the circumstances, he would rather hear this old bird sing for him. Lobelia is about to suggest as much when Vergilius starts shaking down his mattress for some reason?
No, no, this scenario feels all too familiar. He must suspect Lobelia is going to record this, and as expected, a series of conch shells come tumbling out of the mattress.]
Oh! You've unearthed my collection. Did you want to listen to them together...?
[Clearly Vergilius is just fascinated with his craft and wants to work himself up by listening to the sounds of destruction Lobelia has recorded with his conches. Clearly!!]
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[Except he just sneers, displeased but not surprised. A few more shakes, and he's putting the bed down to pick up the shells in his hands, moving to the bathroom.]
Turn the water on.
[That's an order.]
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Do you intend to wash my conques for me?
[As if. If submerging them in water makes Vergilius feel better, then Lobelia won't stop him. Still, what a shame... He'll just have to settle for committing the sounds of Vergilius' body to memory.]
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[Once the water is filled up, he is drowning each shell one by one. There you go. All they can capture is the sound of the water, now.]
[But not satisfied, he is rounding back to commit further investigation of the room to look in nooks and crannies. He is SERIOUS about this. SERIOUS.]
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[Is. Is he not going to stop until he's unearthed every conch...? There are a few more to be found hanging out on window sills and tables, but the lion's share of the conches are hidden in the depths of Lobelia's coat pockets. He's hoping Vergilius won't think to frisk him.]
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[And now, finally, they can begin. He faces Lobelia, heaving an exhausted little sigh. This man is........more tiring than anything.]
Take off your clothes.
[wow so hot so sexy not at all said deadpan. except it is]
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[Truly, none of Vergilius' bones want him. Lobelia is at least somewhat compliant, shrugging his coat from his shoulders and carefully folding it over a chair behind him. Smooth. Casual. Vergilius will never in a million years know his hammerspace pockets are loaded with conches.]
Do you intend to remain fully dressed?
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I'd rather not have to ruin more clothing.
[So that's likely a no.]
[He is beelining towards that coat, though, HE'S SEEN YOU PULL CONCHES FROM IT, PUNK. TAKING IT TO THE BATHROOM, BINCH.]
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HΓ©, hΓ©, hΓ©! Don't get my coat wet, alright? It took me far too long to dry it last time!
[But there's no sense in trying to stop Vergilius now, so Lobelia just focuses on undressing... slowly. By the time Vergilius has added another 50+ conches to the tub, Lobelia will have worked his way down to his pants. Someone's clearly taking their time.]
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I don't really care.
[INTO THE WATER IT GOES TO DIE A LONELY DROWNING DEATH. Jesus. There are so many conches. What the hell.]
[He's coming back, though, after all of that, and the man is still going. Vergilius glances up and down, before quirking an eyebrow. Yes, of course, everyone has their Thing, but even this is...]
Don't tell me you're shy.
[After all that horny talk....the true Lobelia...]
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You're truly a cruel man, Vergilius, but at least Lobelia has his fuckboy summer outfit to run around in while he dries his poor coat later. When he's accused of being shy, of all things, Lobelia belts out a laugh.]
Is that your assessment of me? Don't be silly! I have no reason to be shy.
[This is the body of a man who spends plenty of time looking at himself in the mirror, Verg. You only wish he had the decency to be shy.]
And what about vous? I see you're still fully dressed. Go on! Put on a proper show for me!
[Lobelia slips out of his slacks and sets them aside, but if Vergilius wants him to take his underwear off, he'll have to take them off his damn self. Perching on the edge of the mattress, Lobelia watches Vergilius expectantly.]
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[Life would be so much better if Lobelia was shy. Except maybe he would be shy in a new messed up way.]
[When Lobelia turns the tables on him, Vergilius closes his eyes, exasperated. It's not like he can hold back on this forever. He's here, the conches are out, and it's showtime.]
[...........So he starts pulling off his clothes with as much aplomb as if he's about to head to the shower after a long day. No fanfare. No sneak peeks or quick glances. Shirt off. Shorts off. All dumped unceremoniously on the floor.]
[His body is as scarred as his hands - the lines criss-cross over dull skin, some even layered. A tapestry of the brunt of injury he's borne over the years.]
...That's that.
[He won't even make a move after that.]
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By comparison, there's very little by way of injuries to be seen on Lobelia's skin. On the sole of one foot is a scar from a conch he'd stepped on as a boy β the catalyst for a life of destruction and ruin β but little else. The sheer contrast between their bodies has Lobelia snickering all over again.]
Heheh! Where is your bedside manner? [lobelia this isn't a hospital] Fortunately for you, it isn't your body I have much intΓ©rΓͺt in. Even so, stripping you of your flesh would be exquis!
[But Vergilius didn't sign up to be flayed alive, so that will have to wait. Alas! Lobelia's feeling helpful, so he snaps his fingers and blows Vergilius' underwear into fine shreds of confetti. Ta-da.]
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[...]
........
[Wow. Sudden cool breeze.]
[Vergilius blinks, glancing down at the remnants of fabric on the floor around him. And then.....lets out the most suffering sigh.]
Really. [WHY.] You could have just waited.
[But he will finally take a step forward, even if this is the most awkward start to a sexual encounter he's ever had in his life.]
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[Bonjour, Vergilius Jr...]
How long do you intent to keep me waiting? It's not as if you've put forth any effort to set the scène. If you like, I can light some candles and play you a most glorious hymne...
[...Which would require making a quick trip to the bathroom to grab a conch or five. How about it? Turned on yet??]
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[Not if he can help it. If this is a displeasing, boring affair, then all the better for it. Let Lobelia reap nothing from the soil of this encounter. He wanted so much, and he gets the bare minimum.]
[All it takes is to make sure he stays stoic through the whole thing. All this is, is merely physical. Nothing more.]
[He moves to press his hand against Lobelia's shoulder to push him down against the mattress, moving to hover over him with hands pressed against the sheets on either side of his head.]
You really haven't done anything like this, have you?
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Perhaps some men would be ashamed to admit to a lack of experience, but not Lobelia. Who can satisfy his needs better than himself? Sex won't make him happy, but making Vergilius suffer through it with him will.
Lobelia shakes his head without hesitation.]
Non. Do you suppose I should have? There's little in it for me, and that's why I haven't.
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[Also still a little surprising given how he acts. Depravity soaking through his entire wretched being, yet pure in the body. Somehow. Then again, he thinks, anyone sane probably would run miles away before jumping into bed with this man.]
[He lets out a little huff, moving a hand to slide a finger underneath the edge of the other's underwear to start pulling it down.]
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[But neither of them are anything close to normal, are they? Lobelia arches his hips to aid in the removal of his underwear.]
Do you like it when pleasure and pain are one in the same?
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[you BINCH. His eyebrows furrowed, he pulls it down and off, tossing it away. Bye.]
[He's bracing himself again over the other man, not even looking down - just meeting the man eye to glowing red eye. An exhale - he pauses, a part of him thinking this was somehow much more enjoyable of a prospect in the midst of viscera and blood, even if only by a margin - before he leans his head down, hovering lips over lips.]
I don't really know. I don't think about it.
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Come now, experience begets wisdom. Don't tell me you've paid such little mind to your own prΓ©fΓ©rences.
[Not that Lobelia is any better, meeting Vergilius halfway to fit their lips together. On the way out of that kiss, he drags his teeth along Vergilius' bottom lip.]
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[.............That's a bit of a lie. Just a bit. But he won't give information for Lobelia to smear right back on him as much as he wants. The less he knows, the better. Let this be as mysterious and as empty as any tryst, he thinks.]
[(That's already a failure, though, given that his emotions regarding the man are far past neutral.)]
[The man leans up to kiss him - its not quite like any of the kisses he had before, even if the elements are there. A copy of the way those teeth pull over his lip, even.]
[It's not hard enough.]
[He returns the kiss, now - and although he could make it bland, flavorless, chaste like before, he decides to be a little lenient - a mirrored move, to worry at the other's lip as he sighs into the other's mouth.]
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It's not hard enough.
What if that throbbing lingered just a little bit longer? What if it ached? Would that satisfy him?
Lobelia lifts his arms to loosely circle Vergilius' shoulders, nails drawing along that canvas of scars. A curious touch here, a scratch there, all in an effort to see if tugging at old wounds stirs anything in the other man.]
That's a shame, but it's no surprise. That means you've never been with someone who truly satisfait you.
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And are you going to say that you'll be the one who will? What a silly daydream.
[He tilts his head to plant another kiss against the other's lips, before moving to grant him another on the corner. Nothing special. Nothing more. The little shiver of interest with the bite from before has abated.]
[At least, for now.]
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Pas du tout! Pursuing happiness is your responsibility.
[I couldn't care less whether you're satisfied or not. I'd much rather you not be.
It's so absurd an assumption that Lobelia seeks to punish him for it, turning his head to catch that second kiss and bite Vergilius' lip harshly enough to leave a mark. Shame on you, old man.]
But it will all be mine in the end. Just remember that.
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