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.
[The laugh rings in his ears - obviously laughing at him instead of laughing with him. His eyes narrow, glimmering like gems in a flowing stream. How amusing. To think that Lobelia thinks like that.]
[The bite makes his breath hitch, almost becoming a noise but escaping only as a hiss.]
How laughable. Your arrogance will be the end of you.
[A flick of his tongue against the mark. A little taste of iron. He tilts his head to place a kiss over the other's jawline, with a tiny signature of a bloodstain.]
[Will he meet the same fate as Merlin, undone by his own ego? Lobelia thinks not, but should it come time to pay the piper, he'll only accept death as his fate when he's found his reason to live. Anything less would simply be unacceptable.]
Do you think so? Non, I can't agree with you. Every time I begin to feel as if I've lost my way, something new comes along to prove that I'm on the right path.
[His eyes are locked on Vergilius' as he says that, unable to restrain a shiver when that kiss stains him in a speck of his blood. That's more like it. They really should've stayed behind in that bloodstained world and made a mess of each other there, but in lieu of that, Lobelia's nails seize into Vergilius' back and draw angry red welts right down to his hips.
The smell of blood, of life pouring out of an open wound, has always been enlivening. All the better when it's the blood of a man like Vergilius.]
Heheh... I've come to realize something, Vergilius. We're meant to be! Γmes soeurs. You can argue otherwise, but I know the truth.
[One may call it "flow". The hells and high waters a person goes through...the lines from dots....]
[Ah, but once again, Lobelia focuses too much on the moments. The flow isn't about that. To lean back on brief blips of happiness and search for the next hit is a miserable effort. Even this is a momentary thing. Even these nails digging in are ephmeral to him.]
[He bites on his lower lip to muffle the noise, before it comes out as a frustrated, shuddering little sigh. More scars to add. Thanks. He is also ignoring the scent of blood, something rushing into his head like a fog. Again, that world of destruction, and the scent of death...]
Mm.
[He opens his mouth against the other's neck, breath hot against a beating carotid.]>
What do you even mean by that? [He tooths along the edge of the artery.] We aren't mean to be. What nonsense.
[Ah, that sigh of frustration... What a nice sound. If only Vergilius had been the least bit reasonable and allowed him to keep a conch or two on his person, then they could both savor the sounds of his gradual collapse long after this moment has run its course. Living life in the moment doesn't suit Lobelia as well as recollecting on the past, but even documented memories fade and fray at the edges over time.
Perhaps it's appropriate that this moment is doomed to fade more quickly than any other, but that's alright. Beauty is ephemeral, so they say, but there are other ways Lobelia can leave his lasting mark on this man. He can and he will.]
But of course we are! It's plain to see, Vergilius. Just look how much we have in common.
[Vergilius will feel it beneath his lips, the blooming warmth of Lobelia's skin when his canines threaten that beating artery. His pulse stops, his breath held, for all of a moment, and then it's hammering so mightily that Lobelia can hear the blood rushing in his ears. Delightful. If Vergilius wanted, he could simply bite down hard enough to do some serious damage... or perhaps even kill him.
The thought coats Lobelia in goosebumps, and shifting, he presses into those threatening teeth. As it so often does, Lobelia's body knows what it wants just before he does.]
Bite me, chien.
[They're both animals, aren't they? Monsters. There's no need to complicate this when they both know what will urge them forward.]
[The guttural words, tinged with anger, spill out of his mouth like drips of tar. The idea is hateful. Lobelia, a cheerful hedonist. Him, a self-punishing husk of a man unwilling to give himself one instance of happiness. Not even similar.]
[The very laughable, horrifying idea that they could be anywhere close to "soul mates" makes his eyes flare. He can feel the changes in pulse under the other's skin - and its not even the heartbeat that grabs his attention, but the flow of blood. That power of his, coated in blood - is it not a sign of his being? The blood he's spilled, the blood yet to be spilt? It makes his own heartbeat race, muscles of his neck tensing as he tries his best to focus, pull away from the obvious carrot and stick.]
If you'll call me a dog, I won't give you what you want.
[He turns to qualm the rush by pressing his teeth over the edge of the other's ear. Little nibbles. Holding back, once more.]
[For all of Vergilius' barking, isn't he giving him exactly what he wants...? His threats make him shiver and chuckle. So angry! If anger were a renewable resource, Vergilius could power entire cities all on his own.]
Heheh! Such a tease...
[But for a man determined to deny Lobelia what he wants, he really should pick his targets more carefully. Teething along the edge of his ear... Vergilius knows how sensitive his hearing is, doesn't he? It stands to reason that his ears would be sensitive to the touch as well, a full-bodied shiver tensing every muscle in Lobelia's body, teeth sunk into his bottom lip.
Oh. Maybe now he understands why people chase sexual gratification like slavering dogs. That almost felt good.
He's turned his head away from Vergilius without intending to, but he's laughing, this time at himself.]
[........To be fair, he should have seen that coming. But that full body shiver he can almost feel, stemming from the ear like a wave moving through and down the other's spine, makes him pause for a moment. His eyebrows furrow.]
I won't do any such thing.
[Right. No ears. Not if he can help it. Because this is a game, isn't it? A tug of war from either side, Vergilius wanting to deny, Lobelia wanting to pull him further in. He grunts, leaning back - he needs to get this done and over with. But at the same time, he doesn't want to make this some affair that this man will hound him for again and again. It has to be one and done. A blase sort of thing.]
[He wishes it could be so simple.]
This isn't about you.
[And yet it is, isn't it? He moves to straddle the other man, now, splaying his hand over the other's chest, trying to think of what to do next. He has to resist.]
[What a curious thing to say... This isn't about him? Lobelia's brow arches, curious, and he doesn't resist taking another stab at the open wound Vergilius has bared before him.]
You're right, Vergilius. This is about us... heheh.
[And it is, isn't it? It takes two to tango and all that. When Vergilius moves to straddle him, Lobelia arrests him by the hips and coaxes him down to sit. Beneath him, he's already hard. Thanks for biting his ear, boo.]
But I know that isn't what you meant. What did you mean by that, hm?
[A noticable click of the tongue - and there's a little hateful inclination to imagine Lobelia capturing all his little sounds in those unbearable shells. Its made him more self-conscious of what he lets himself utter, what noises he allows himself to let out.]
[Of course he's hard. He finally glances down at it with a withering sort of look. A brief pause, before he reaches for it, grasping at the base of it with sturdy, thick fingers - perhaps something like this will distract him to the point of making him shut up. He slides it up slowly, carefully, before returning to the base and starting anew.]
[Meanwhile, he's hardly excited himself - so far, Lobelia is the only one showing any true physical signs of this whole encounter so far. Perhaps its for the best, Vergilius thinks. Get him off, and then go.]
[This stubborn old man... The look on his face betrays what he's thinking, that he can skirt his way out of this by getting him off and dipping as soon as the deed is done. Lobelia doesn't like that, receptive to his touch on only a physiological level, staring up at Vergilius as if measuring something intangible. Scheming.]
Non, you would much rather I dig the answers out of you, I'm sure.
[That can easily be arranged... but he'd rather not get viscera and gore all over a shared bed. Ripping Vergilius apart will have to wait, and in the interim, he's going to rip apart his poor attempt at a handjob.]
C'est terrible! Have you never heard of lotion? If you keep going like that, we'll be here all day!
[Not that Lobelia minds, mischief in his eyes while he sizes Vergilius up. Still... it's not like Lobelia is slinging mud just for the sake of it. Vergilius' half-hearted effort are making it impossible to stay hard, and completely unnecessarily, Lobelia yawns.]
[Don't call him out as a hit it and quit it type, Lobelia! Except that's what he is, sighing in response to the insults. In fact, stubbornly, and clearly annoyed, he's simply just going to draw his hands back to fold his arms and stare down at the man underneath him. If he wasn't so stern, he'd probably be putting on a pout.]
You didn't prepare anything for me. I don't even know if you have lube. Then again...you have no experience. What should I expect?
[Now throwing it right back with the digs in return. Not HIS fault if this is going poorly because Lobelia is a virgin. Clearly.]
[He's just calling it as he sees it, Gramps! Maybe Vergilius has never deflowered a pure innocent maiden before? Lobelia is certainly not that, but the point still stands.
Impatience makes Lobelia want to throw a fist into the side of Vergilius' head and see if that gets the blood going any better, buuut...]
...In the nightstand, friend. It reeks of artificial coconut, but it will suffice, non? If you're uncertain, I can be the one to take you instead.
[What about it, Vergilius? Was that ass bioengineered to withstand high impact sexual violence?]
[Maybe it IS bioengineered for that! Not that Lobelia will ever find out! Probably!]
Hrm.
[He'll swing his leg behind him so he can move to stand and go over to the nightstand in question, rummaging. He finds the thing, and...chucks it back onto the bed, near Lobelia's head.]
[He comes back around to his previous position, shifting to let his hips lower down before giving the other his characteristic disgruntled look.]
How bad do you really even want this? [....Something has to happen here. He understands that. But also he wants to see what its like to have that displeased little pinch of an expression and a worn smile on Lobelia's face. He bends down to place a kiss between the other's clavicles, red eyes glancing to watch the other's expression.] One wonders.
[He's already begun to lose his patience, having expected Vergilius might go the lengths to make this as unpleasant as possible but still managing to find that fact disappointing. This is what Vergilius owes him for allowing him out of The Tower's world, so remaining obstinate flies in the face of fulfilling his end of the bargain. With that in mind, maybe it's time to be far less lenient with the man.
Settling back with his arms tucked up above his head, Lobelia looks Vergilius up and down, settling on the exact details of his plan.]
I would've preferred if you upheld your end of the bargain by choice, but I don't mind taking what I want from you by force. What other choice have you left me with?
[A strange but nevertheless familiar hum starts up again, a gradual buzz that works its way up from the tip of Vergilius' toes to the top of his head. At the same time, Lobelia sits up to face him, planting either palm on Vergilius' shoulders. Slowly, gradually, the vibration escalates in intensity. This is a warning.]
Ne t'inquiète pas, Vergilius. Rest your old bones. I'm more than capable of taking it from here.
[There it is. Beautiful frustration. Delicious impatience. The satisfaction of someone clearly not happy that he's not doing this the way he's wanted. He can't help but let the light of his own amusement flicker in his eyes as the other draws up. Even the vibration that courses through his body might be irritating enough, but it doesn't quite abate his mood.]
[To him, it doesn't feel like a warning, but a bluff he can take advantage of. It's still distasteful to engage in this sort of thing, of course, but now that the other has finally made a move, he feels he's allowed his chance of movement too. He reaches up with a vibrating hand to grasp the other's throat, before moving in to capture the other's lips, teeth grating against the other's. Nothing as hard and forceful as their first kiss (Lobelia-given), but definitely teasing enough, with a squeeze of his fingers.]
[...That smirk. Denying him any sort of real pleasure was the goal all along, wasn't it? Go figure. Lobelia doesn't find it anywhere near as humorous, huffing his frustration into Vergilius' mouth. In this constant tug of war between them, neither of them can win for long.
Between kisses, a thin whisperβ raw, unrestrained.]
[If Vergilius can't amuse him, he'll outlive his purpose sooner than he realizes. No... Vergilius already has, and maybe he did long before he met Lobelia. To put this old dog down would be merciful, wouldn't it? Pleasurable, even, far more so than kisses given to him only out of spite, touches that anger him more than relieve him.
So Lobelia's had enough. He won't kill Vergilius, not now where his mess would be too difficult to clean up afterwards, but he'll fill him with so much regret that he'll wish for the merciful embrace of death.
The pressure of those vibrations ratchets up considerably, and were Vergilius a normal man, they would be enough to completely immobilize him. Instead, Lobelia shoves Vergilius to the bed and drops himself in his lap, a portent of things to come.]
What was it you said to me before? "Fuck you"? We say things a little differently where I come from.
[Bending down low, Lobelia bites into the side of Vergilius' neck, promising bruises over that carotid artery.]
Va te faire foutre. [Another bite.] TΓͺte de noeud. [Another bite, this one harder.] Roi des cons. [Can be break the skin, he wonders? Lobelia's certainly trying.]
[He wonders how long the worm will writhe in its sickening void-like hunger.]
[Because that's all Lobelia will ever do, right? Everything will be disappointment to him. Even if he gets the upper hand, there's the keen sense of victory that this will only be a drop of water in the depths of a dried up well.]
[The vibrations strengthen - he can feel his teeth chattering in his mouth, but the muscles of his inhuman body become taut like a rope out of reflex. He's shaking, but he stands as stubborn and immutable as a statue. Maybe that's all he is. Even if he burns out, this body will remain, like a resolute reminder of the journey of Inferno.]
[He gives Lobelia the chance to eke out his frustration. One bite is met with no sound. The second one is met with a little sigh, a pleased sensation shooting down his spine with a new sense of warmth that moves in waves with the vibrations, as if he is a transmitter for signals making his cells come alive. Vergilius's hand moves away from the throat to grasp behind his head. Not to pull him away, or push him in, but to keep him stable.]
[The spoken phrases only make the shine of teeth in his mouth shine all the brighter when he smiles.]
How pitiful it is. Giving me what you want from me. [He whispers into the other's ear, husky and hot against the edge.] Jealousy is an ugly thing. But it suits you, doesn't it?
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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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[The bite makes his breath hitch, almost becoming a noise but escaping only as a hiss.]
How laughable. Your arrogance will be the end of you.
[A flick of his tongue against the mark. A little taste of iron. He tilts his head to place a kiss over the other's jawline, with a tiny signature of a bloodstain.]
Your pursuit has been doomed from the beginning.
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Do you think so? Non, I can't agree with you. Every time I begin to feel as if I've lost my way, something new comes along to prove that I'm on the right path.
[His eyes are locked on Vergilius' as he says that, unable to restrain a shiver when that kiss stains him in a speck of his blood. That's more like it. They really should've stayed behind in that bloodstained world and made a mess of each other there, but in lieu of that, Lobelia's nails seize into Vergilius' back and draw angry red welts right down to his hips.
The smell of blood, of life pouring out of an open wound, has always been enlivening. All the better when it's the blood of a man like Vergilius.]
Heheh... I've come to realize something, Vergilius. We're meant to be! Γmes soeurs. You can argue otherwise, but I know the truth.
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[One may call it "flow". The hells and high waters a person goes through...the lines from dots....]
[Ah, but once again, Lobelia focuses too much on the moments. The flow isn't about that. To lean back on brief blips of happiness and search for the next hit is a miserable effort. Even this is a momentary thing. Even these nails digging in are ephmeral to him.]
[He bites on his lower lip to muffle the noise, before it comes out as a frustrated, shuddering little sigh. More scars to add. Thanks. He is also ignoring the scent of blood, something rushing into his head like a fog. Again, that world of destruction, and the scent of death...]
Mm.
[He opens his mouth against the other's neck, breath hot against a beating carotid.]>
What do you even mean by that? [He tooths along the edge of the artery.] We aren't mean to be. What nonsense.
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Perhaps it's appropriate that this moment is doomed to fade more quickly than any other, but that's alright. Beauty is ephemeral, so they say, but there are other ways Lobelia can leave his lasting mark on this man. He can and he will.]
But of course we are! It's plain to see, Vergilius. Just look how much we have in common.
[Vergilius will feel it beneath his lips, the blooming warmth of Lobelia's skin when his canines threaten that beating artery. His pulse stops, his breath held, for all of a moment, and then it's hammering so mightily that Lobelia can hear the blood rushing in his ears. Delightful. If Vergilius wanted, he could simply bite down hard enough to do some serious damage... or perhaps even kill him.
The thought coats Lobelia in goosebumps, and shifting, he presses into those threatening teeth. As it so often does, Lobelia's body knows what it wants just before he does.]
Bite me, chien.
[They're both animals, aren't they? Monsters. There's no need to complicate this when they both know what will urge them forward.]
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[The guttural words, tinged with anger, spill out of his mouth like drips of tar. The idea is hateful. Lobelia, a cheerful hedonist. Him, a self-punishing husk of a man unwilling to give himself one instance of happiness. Not even similar.]
[The very laughable, horrifying idea that they could be anywhere close to "soul mates" makes his eyes flare. He can feel the changes in pulse under the other's skin - and its not even the heartbeat that grabs his attention, but the flow of blood. That power of his, coated in blood - is it not a sign of his being? The blood he's spilled, the blood yet to be spilt? It makes his own heartbeat race, muscles of his neck tensing as he tries his best to focus, pull away from the obvious carrot and stick.]
If you'll call me a dog, I won't give you what you want.
[He turns to qualm the rush by pressing his teeth over the edge of the other's ear. Little nibbles. Holding back, once more.]
Didn't your mother tell you to ask nicely, hm?
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Heheh! Such a tease...
[But for a man determined to deny Lobelia what he wants, he really should pick his targets more carefully. Teething along the edge of his ear... Vergilius knows how sensitive his hearing is, doesn't he? It stands to reason that his ears would be sensitive to the touch as well, a full-bodied shiver tensing every muscle in Lobelia's body, teeth sunk into his bottom lip.
Oh. Maybe now he understands why people chase sexual gratification like slavering dogs. That almost felt good.
He's turned his head away from Vergilius without intending to, but he's laughing, this time at himself.]
Will you chew my ear off if I don't beg properly?
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I won't do any such thing.
[Right. No ears. Not if he can help it. Because this is a game, isn't it? A tug of war from either side, Vergilius wanting to deny, Lobelia wanting to pull him further in. He grunts, leaning back - he needs to get this done and over with. But at the same time, he doesn't want to make this some affair that this man will hound him for again and again. It has to be one and done. A blase sort of thing.]
[He wishes it could be so simple.]
This isn't about you.
[And yet it is, isn't it? He moves to straddle the other man, now, splaying his hand over the other's chest, trying to think of what to do next. He has to resist.]
[He has to.]
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You're right, Vergilius. This is about us... heheh.
[And it is, isn't it? It takes two to tango and all that. When Vergilius moves to straddle him, Lobelia arrests him by the hips and coaxes him down to sit. Beneath him, he's already hard. Thanks for biting his ear, boo.]
But I know that isn't what you meant. What did you mean by that, hm?
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[A noticable click of the tongue - and there's a little hateful inclination to imagine Lobelia capturing all his little sounds in those unbearable shells. Its made him more self-conscious of what he lets himself utter, what noises he allows himself to let out.]
[Of course he's hard. He finally glances down at it with a withering sort of look. A brief pause, before he reaches for it, grasping at the base of it with sturdy, thick fingers - perhaps something like this will distract him to the point of making him shut up. He slides it up slowly, carefully, before returning to the base and starting anew.]
[Meanwhile, he's hardly excited himself - so far, Lobelia is the only one showing any true physical signs of this whole encounter so far. Perhaps its for the best, Vergilius thinks. Get him off, and then go.]
[His voice comes out as a murmur.]
Like I'll tell you.
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Non, you would much rather I dig the answers out of you, I'm sure.
[That can easily be arranged... but he'd rather not get viscera and gore all over a shared bed. Ripping Vergilius apart will have to wait, and in the interim, he's going to rip apart his poor attempt at a handjob.]
C'est terrible! Have you never heard of lotion? If you keep going like that, we'll be here all day!
[Not that Lobelia minds, mischief in his eyes while he sizes Vergilius up. Still... it's not like Lobelia is slinging mud just for the sake of it. Vergilius' half-hearted effort are making it impossible to stay hard, and completely unnecessarily, Lobelia yawns.]
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You didn't prepare anything for me. I don't even know if you have lube. Then again...you have no experience. What should I expect?
[Now throwing it right back with the digs in return. Not HIS fault if this is going poorly because Lobelia is a virgin. Clearly.]
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Impatience makes Lobelia want to throw a fist into the side of Vergilius' head and see if that gets the blood going any better, buuut...]
...In the nightstand, friend. It reeks of artificial coconut, but it will suffice, non? If you're uncertain, I can be the one to take you instead.
[What about it, Vergilius? Was that ass bioengineered to withstand high impact sexual violence?]
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[Maybe it IS bioengineered for that! Not that Lobelia will ever find out! Probably!]
Hrm.
[He'll swing his leg behind him so he can move to stand and go over to the nightstand in question, rummaging. He finds the thing, and...chucks it back onto the bed, near Lobelia's head.]
[He comes back around to his previous position, shifting to let his hips lower down before giving the other his characteristic disgruntled look.]
How bad do you really even want this? [....Something has to happen here. He understands that. But also he wants to see what its like to have that displeased little pinch of an expression and a worn smile on Lobelia's face. He bends down to place a kiss between the other's clavicles, red eyes glancing to watch the other's expression.] One wonders.
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Settling back with his arms tucked up above his head, Lobelia looks Vergilius up and down, settling on the exact details of his plan.]
I would've preferred if you upheld your end of the bargain by choice, but I don't mind taking what I want from you by force. What other choice have you left me with?
[A strange but nevertheless familiar hum starts up again, a gradual buzz that works its way up from the tip of Vergilius' toes to the top of his head. At the same time, Lobelia sits up to face him, planting either palm on Vergilius' shoulders. Slowly, gradually, the vibration escalates in intensity. This is a warning.]
Ne t'inquiète pas, Vergilius. Rest your old bones. I'm more than capable of taking it from here.
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[There it is. Beautiful frustration. Delicious impatience. The satisfaction of someone clearly not happy that he's not doing this the way he's wanted. He can't help but let the light of his own amusement flicker in his eyes as the other draws up. Even the vibration that courses through his body might be irritating enough, but it doesn't quite abate his mood.]
[To him, it doesn't feel like a warning, but a bluff he can take advantage of. It's still distasteful to engage in this sort of thing, of course, but now that the other has finally made a move, he feels he's allowed his chance of movement too. He reaches up with a vibrating hand to grasp the other's throat, before moving in to capture the other's lips, teeth grating against the other's. Nothing as hard and forceful as their first kiss (Lobelia-given), but definitely teasing enough, with a squeeze of his fingers.]
[He wants to throw him off course.]
What about now?
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Between kisses, a thin whisperβ raw, unrestrained.]
Je vais te dΓ©truire.
[If Vergilius can't amuse him, he'll outlive his purpose sooner than he realizes. No... Vergilius already has, and maybe he did long before he met Lobelia. To put this old dog down would be merciful, wouldn't it? Pleasurable, even, far more so than kisses given to him only out of spite, touches that anger him more than relieve him.
So Lobelia's had enough. He won't kill Vergilius, not now where his mess would be too difficult to clean up afterwards, but he'll fill him with so much regret that he'll wish for the merciful embrace of death.
The pressure of those vibrations ratchets up considerably, and were Vergilius a normal man, they would be enough to completely immobilize him. Instead, Lobelia shoves Vergilius to the bed and drops himself in his lap, a portent of things to come.]
What was it you said to me before? "Fuck you"? We say things a little differently where I come from.
[Bending down low, Lobelia bites into the side of Vergilius' neck, promising bruises over that carotid artery.]
Va te faire foutre. [Another bite.] TΓͺte de noeud. [Another bite, this one harder.] Roi des cons. [Can be break the skin, he wonders? Lobelia's certainly trying.]
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[Because that's all Lobelia will ever do, right? Everything will be disappointment to him. Even if he gets the upper hand, there's the keen sense of victory that this will only be a drop of water in the depths of a dried up well.]
[The vibrations strengthen - he can feel his teeth chattering in his mouth, but the muscles of his inhuman body become taut like a rope out of reflex. He's shaking, but he stands as stubborn and immutable as a statue. Maybe that's all he is. Even if he burns out, this body will remain, like a resolute reminder of the journey of Inferno.]
[He gives Lobelia the chance to eke out his frustration. One bite is met with no sound. The second one is met with a little sigh, a pleased sensation shooting down his spine with a new sense of warmth that moves in waves with the vibrations, as if he is a transmitter for signals making his cells come alive. Vergilius's hand moves away from the throat to grasp behind his head. Not to pull him away, or push him in, but to keep him stable.]
[The spoken phrases only make the shine of teeth in his mouth shine all the brighter when he smiles.]
How pitiful it is. Giving me what you want from me. [He whispers into the other's ear, husky and hot against the edge.] Jealousy is an ugly thing. But it suits you, doesn't it?
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