Silas & Darcy go a step farther...NWS ()
Silas had been drifting in and out of sleep for several days while his body healed. Dr Tam's sanity might have been questionable, but he knew his medicine.
Darcy wasn't often away from Silas's side, and when he was ... well, it was to get something for him to eat or drink. Presently he was sitting on the edge of the bed, preparing the last of the antibiotics.
Silas finally seemed to be waking up fully, and sat up a little in the bed to look at Darcy. "Hey." He forced a weak smile and pushed a hand through his hair, which had grown out just enough to hang down in his face.
"Hello, Silas." He thought the other man looked quite fetching in his longer hair, but he wouldn't object to Silas cutting it if that was what he wanted. "Feeling any better?"
Silas leaned back against the pillows and accepted the last round of his antibiotics. "Better, yes."
"Good." He nodded and then picked up a glass of water for Silas to chase the pills down with.
After taking the pills, Silas lumbered up, to use the restroom. Pushing the sheets off his body, he looked down at his abused legs. He made a little sound of distress in his throat. Whether from the sight of his wounds or the sudden realisation that he had agreed to give up the cilice was unclear.
Darcy frowned gently, moving a hand to stroke the side of his face. "Silas..?" The whimpering sound confused him greatly. "Shall I fetch the doctor again..?"
Silas shook his head. "No. No. I am...fine." He pulled himself up to his feet. His steps were slow, to the bathroom and back again. "I just didn't realise," he was saying as he climbed back onto the bed.
"Realize...?" He wrapped the blankets around Silas again, worried that he'd become cold again.
Red eyes drifted closed. "All my life I was treated like some kind of freak because of my skin. I was taken from that life, only to...to recreate it."
Darcy smoothed his fingers through the other's hair, settling closer. "Not here, Silas." Perhaps in his other life.
Silas lifted a hand up to Darcy's cheek. "You are too good to me, Will."
He smiled faintly. "Well, I do rather think you deserve such things."
Silas knew not to mention the murders and use that truth of his past to question what he deserved now. He'd nearly driven Darcy away from him then, he would not make that mistake again. He simply nodded and picked at a ball of lint on the blankets.
Darcy settled closer to Silas, sliding his hand through the other man's hair. He spoke cautiously, quietly. "Even if you've done things in the past, Silas, it does not mean that you deserve to be treated badly."
Silas smiled tentatively. "Will you...kiss me again?"
"Of course." He'd been wanting to for quite some time now, but Silas had been ill and .. he hadn't wanted to bother him.
Silas licked his tongue across his lips. His eyes were dull, from too much sleep, but were focused and intense.
He leant forward carefully, hand sliding through the other's hair again to draw him into a soft kiss. It was careful - not pushy in the least.
Silas' eyes closed as he submitted to the kiss. He slid his tongue against Darcy's, his hands moving up to Darcy's hair, to the back of his neck. The moan that escaped him then was pure pleasure.
The sound of Silas's moan made him shiver and he pressed into the kiss a tad more, deepening it as much as possible before he ran a hand down the side of his throat. "Silas.."
"Will..." Silas answered, purring slightly. His hand drifted over Darcy's back, and inched back up to finger the fine hairs at the back of his neck.
He leant back into the touches with a sweet, careful smile and began to nudge his mouth across Silas's throat, over the smooth, pale skin. It's sinful how lovely he looks like this.
Silas shivers, and his hand spasms against Darcy's neck. "Please..." he murmured. He' d never associated pleasure with being touched. Touch has always been violent and unpleasant for him.
Darcy, for all rights and purposes, is not terribly experienced at such things as sex and rubbing and kissing, but he hopes he's doing well enough. His hand rests at the smooth curve of the man's hip, stroking up across his side.
Silas is wearing nothing more than his loin cloth, and his erection is growing beneath the thin material. There is scarcely an inch of skin at a stretch that isn't marked and scarred all across his body. The softness of Darcy's touch is intoxicating to him, and his eyes roll back in his head as he moans softly.
Darcy smiled softly, stroking his hands down the small of his back. He was feeling suddenly too over-dressed and unbuttoned his shirt accordingly, letting it slide off his shoulders.
Silas' hands moved up, instinctively, to assist the removal of the shirt, to guide it over smooth shoulders and down the slope of strong, beautiful arms. He sat up, pressing against Darcy as he followed through with the shirt.
He sighed out firmly then, fingers coming to rest into the small of Silas's back so that he can draw him in and up, kissing his throat.
"Yes," Silas purred, arching his neck, tilting his head back. His hand sought Darcy's, and guided the man's hand to his burning crotch.
He doesn't startle, exactly - his hand flexes in Silas's grip before he nudges the material of the cloth away, gasping.
Silas moaned, his back arching against the pillows. "More," he begged, trying to get Darcy's hand around his erection.
He'd never been one to deny Silas. His fingers wrapped gently around him and he stroked slowly, meaningfully as he kissed the man again.
Silas moaned, his head rolling, and finally finding the support of Darcy's shoulder. His hand had a firm grip over Darcy's, his other hand groped blindly, trying to find a grip on Darcy's cock.
Through his trousers, Darcy rolled his hips and purred. "Silas.." He whispered, brushing his mouth down over the other man's collarbone.
Silas pulled back, and met Darcy's gaze. "Am I...is this...is it...bad?"
"No." He whispered, kissing Silas's lower lip again. "No, not at all. It's..." Perfect.
"It's never...been like this." Silas confessed, barely a whisper.
"We can always stop, Silas." He didn't want to push.
"No. Please. No. Don't...don't stop." Silas pulled his hand up to Darcy's face. "It's...nice."
Darcy nodded, cautiously sliding his hand over the other man's to squeeze. "Of course. Shh." He soothed, kissing his throat.
Silas squeezed his eyes shut, unexpected tears starting to leak out. They were happy tears, though. Silas had never felt so happy. So content. So loved. The Bishop had wanted to control him, he knew that now. It had never been about acceptance with the Biship, it had been about controlling somethng that on the surface seemed wild and untamed, dangerous.
Darcy curled his arms around Silas after a spell, lips brushing the edge of his throat and his jaw. "Silas.." He pressed their hips together, rocking slowly against him.
It was all so new for Silas, to feel truly accepted and safe with another person. Add tot hat the sensations swirling in his body, and he felt like his boy was electric. His hips surged with a sudden ferocity, franticly seeking to rub himself against Darcy.
Darcy slid a hand down to stroke his lover's hip, stilling him from thrusting for the moment to kiss him a bit more soundly.
Silas' entire body trembled with ache and need and lust. His mind clouded with lust and confusion, struggling to understand the things he was feelings. He opened his mouth, but only moaned, unable to articulate a coherent sound.
Which was perfectly fine. He purred low in his throat, fingers trailing down Silas's stomach until he wrapped his hand around the other again. "What.." He pauses, swallowing thickly. "What do you want, Silas?"
Silas pulled his eyes up to Darcy's face. He blinked rapidly and swallowed hard. "I want...want...you."
Darcy leant in and kissed Silas again, hands sliding over his stomach again. "Tell .. tell me if I should stop."
Silas was fairly certain he wouldn't want that at all. His eyes closed, his body seemed to melt into Darcy's touch. He trusted wholly this man who had cared for him now for several days. Silas wasn't even sure how long it had been that he'd been sick and unable to function or care for himself.
Smiling, Darcy kissed Silas again. His hand slid down between his thighs and he slowly hitched the man's legs over his shoulders.
There might have been a little pain, pulling against the stiff and abused muscles of Silas' thighs, but he grit his teeth through it. He had denied and chastised himself long enough. This, with Darcy, was about allowing himself pleasure.
Darcy let his lips wander to Silas's throat again, fumbling for something in the drawer that he'd picked up a day or two ago with much blushing. He squeezed a bit of the stuff into his fingers and then glanced to Silas again, intent on preparing him adequately.
Silas quivered in anticipation. If he'd been able to find his voice he might have asked DSarcy what he was doing. Instead, he silently watched, a content expression on his face.
Darcy wasn't often away from Silas's side, and when he was ... well, it was to get something for him to eat or drink. Presently he was sitting on the edge of the bed, preparing the last of the antibiotics.
Silas finally seemed to be waking up fully, and sat up a little in the bed to look at Darcy. "Hey." He forced a weak smile and pushed a hand through his hair, which had grown out just enough to hang down in his face.
"Hello, Silas." He thought the other man looked quite fetching in his longer hair, but he wouldn't object to Silas cutting it if that was what he wanted. "Feeling any better?"
Silas leaned back against the pillows and accepted the last round of his antibiotics. "Better, yes."
"Good." He nodded and then picked up a glass of water for Silas to chase the pills down with.
After taking the pills, Silas lumbered up, to use the restroom. Pushing the sheets off his body, he looked down at his abused legs. He made a little sound of distress in his throat. Whether from the sight of his wounds or the sudden realisation that he had agreed to give up the cilice was unclear.
Darcy frowned gently, moving a hand to stroke the side of his face. "Silas..?" The whimpering sound confused him greatly. "Shall I fetch the doctor again..?"
Silas shook his head. "No. No. I am...fine." He pulled himself up to his feet. His steps were slow, to the bathroom and back again. "I just didn't realise," he was saying as he climbed back onto the bed.
"Realize...?" He wrapped the blankets around Silas again, worried that he'd become cold again.
Red eyes drifted closed. "All my life I was treated like some kind of freak because of my skin. I was taken from that life, only to...to recreate it."
Darcy smoothed his fingers through the other's hair, settling closer. "Not here, Silas." Perhaps in his other life.
Silas lifted a hand up to Darcy's cheek. "You are too good to me, Will."
He smiled faintly. "Well, I do rather think you deserve such things."
Silas knew not to mention the murders and use that truth of his past to question what he deserved now. He'd nearly driven Darcy away from him then, he would not make that mistake again. He simply nodded and picked at a ball of lint on the blankets.
Darcy settled closer to Silas, sliding his hand through the other man's hair. He spoke cautiously, quietly. "Even if you've done things in the past, Silas, it does not mean that you deserve to be treated badly."
Silas smiled tentatively. "Will you...kiss me again?"
"Of course." He'd been wanting to for quite some time now, but Silas had been ill and .. he hadn't wanted to bother him.
Silas licked his tongue across his lips. His eyes were dull, from too much sleep, but were focused and intense.
He leant forward carefully, hand sliding through the other's hair again to draw him into a soft kiss. It was careful - not pushy in the least.
Silas' eyes closed as he submitted to the kiss. He slid his tongue against Darcy's, his hands moving up to Darcy's hair, to the back of his neck. The moan that escaped him then was pure pleasure.
The sound of Silas's moan made him shiver and he pressed into the kiss a tad more, deepening it as much as possible before he ran a hand down the side of his throat. "Silas.."
"Will..." Silas answered, purring slightly. His hand drifted over Darcy's back, and inched back up to finger the fine hairs at the back of his neck.
He leant back into the touches with a sweet, careful smile and began to nudge his mouth across Silas's throat, over the smooth, pale skin. It's sinful how lovely he looks like this.
Silas shivers, and his hand spasms against Darcy's neck. "Please..." he murmured. He' d never associated pleasure with being touched. Touch has always been violent and unpleasant for him.
Darcy, for all rights and purposes, is not terribly experienced at such things as sex and rubbing and kissing, but he hopes he's doing well enough. His hand rests at the smooth curve of the man's hip, stroking up across his side.
Silas is wearing nothing more than his loin cloth, and his erection is growing beneath the thin material. There is scarcely an inch of skin at a stretch that isn't marked and scarred all across his body. The softness of Darcy's touch is intoxicating to him, and his eyes roll back in his head as he moans softly.
Darcy smiled softly, stroking his hands down the small of his back. He was feeling suddenly too over-dressed and unbuttoned his shirt accordingly, letting it slide off his shoulders.
Silas' hands moved up, instinctively, to assist the removal of the shirt, to guide it over smooth shoulders and down the slope of strong, beautiful arms. He sat up, pressing against Darcy as he followed through with the shirt.
He sighed out firmly then, fingers coming to rest into the small of Silas's back so that he can draw him in and up, kissing his throat.
"Yes," Silas purred, arching his neck, tilting his head back. His hand sought Darcy's, and guided the man's hand to his burning crotch.
He doesn't startle, exactly - his hand flexes in Silas's grip before he nudges the material of the cloth away, gasping.
Silas moaned, his back arching against the pillows. "More," he begged, trying to get Darcy's hand around his erection.
He'd never been one to deny Silas. His fingers wrapped gently around him and he stroked slowly, meaningfully as he kissed the man again.
Silas moaned, his head rolling, and finally finding the support of Darcy's shoulder. His hand had a firm grip over Darcy's, his other hand groped blindly, trying to find a grip on Darcy's cock.
Through his trousers, Darcy rolled his hips and purred. "Silas.." He whispered, brushing his mouth down over the other man's collarbone.
Silas pulled back, and met Darcy's gaze. "Am I...is this...is it...bad?"
"No." He whispered, kissing Silas's lower lip again. "No, not at all. It's..." Perfect.
"It's never...been like this." Silas confessed, barely a whisper.
"We can always stop, Silas." He didn't want to push.
"No. Please. No. Don't...don't stop." Silas pulled his hand up to Darcy's face. "It's...nice."
Darcy nodded, cautiously sliding his hand over the other man's to squeeze. "Of course. Shh." He soothed, kissing his throat.
Silas squeezed his eyes shut, unexpected tears starting to leak out. They were happy tears, though. Silas had never felt so happy. So content. So loved. The Bishop had wanted to control him, he knew that now. It had never been about acceptance with the Biship, it had been about controlling somethng that on the surface seemed wild and untamed, dangerous.
Darcy curled his arms around Silas after a spell, lips brushing the edge of his throat and his jaw. "Silas.." He pressed their hips together, rocking slowly against him.
It was all so new for Silas, to feel truly accepted and safe with another person. Add tot hat the sensations swirling in his body, and he felt like his boy was electric. His hips surged with a sudden ferocity, franticly seeking to rub himself against Darcy.
Darcy slid a hand down to stroke his lover's hip, stilling him from thrusting for the moment to kiss him a bit more soundly.
Silas' entire body trembled with ache and need and lust. His mind clouded with lust and confusion, struggling to understand the things he was feelings. He opened his mouth, but only moaned, unable to articulate a coherent sound.
Which was perfectly fine. He purred low in his throat, fingers trailing down Silas's stomach until he wrapped his hand around the other again. "What.." He pauses, swallowing thickly. "What do you want, Silas?"
Silas pulled his eyes up to Darcy's face. He blinked rapidly and swallowed hard. "I want...want...you."
Darcy leant in and kissed Silas again, hands sliding over his stomach again. "Tell .. tell me if I should stop."
Silas was fairly certain he wouldn't want that at all. His eyes closed, his body seemed to melt into Darcy's touch. He trusted wholly this man who had cared for him now for several days. Silas wasn't even sure how long it had been that he'd been sick and unable to function or care for himself.
Smiling, Darcy kissed Silas again. His hand slid down between his thighs and he slowly hitched the man's legs over his shoulders.
There might have been a little pain, pulling against the stiff and abused muscles of Silas' thighs, but he grit his teeth through it. He had denied and chastised himself long enough. This, with Darcy, was about allowing himself pleasure.
Darcy let his lips wander to Silas's throat again, fumbling for something in the drawer that he'd picked up a day or two ago with much blushing. He squeezed a bit of the stuff into his fingers and then glanced to Silas again, intent on preparing him adequately.
Silas quivered in anticipation. If he'd been able to find his voice he might have asked DSarcy what he was doing. Instead, he silently watched, a content expression on his face.