Part 36 - The Iron Republic(5)(NSFW)

Able had settled himself into the public facilities; Washing his clothing, cleaning his body, trying not to worry about his teeth. He returned to Virgil clean and washed, though he did point out that he didn't scrub very well. Able waved it off, not concerned, quickly getting ready for sleep as the whole event had left him fairly tired. He'd laid onto the floor, considering the now shift to a single bed, but was reminded that he didn't have to. He felt a little embarrassed, automatically giving Virgil more space than what maybe was wanted or needed.

He awoke with some confusion, mainly that the whole events from yesterday hadn't sunk in quite yet. The other reason was how close he was to Virgil the following day. He was fairly startled, but certainly happy overall.

He sighs, pulling the devil closer to him, a little comforted by the warmness. It was nice, Able mused to himself. He wondered a bit if Virgil did mean what he said, though.

Able could think of reasons why he might want to mislead him, but that didn't seem to be his main goal. For now, Able thought, He would take it a bit slow, at least to test the waters. Virgil is lying on their side, their head having shifted many times during the night between the head of a bee and their normal husk. Currently, they're sleeping with an arm loosely wrapped around Able, their body emitting a soft warmth.

Their chest is heaving quietly, a small, throaty buzzing accompanying every quiet breath and tickling the back of Able's head. The arm shifts; Virgil is moving, slowly rousing from rest.

Virgil: -Quietly.- . . .mh. . .

He slowly opens his eyes, the cloudy amber quickly settling into proper pupils as they wake.

Virgil: -Quietly.- . . .morning.

The deacon lifts their head, their eyes squinting a bit as they look at Able.

Virgil: -Quietly.- . . .hm. I didn't put you there.

Able stretches, slowly moving to sit up. He had been awake for a while, so was a bit more coherent that he usually was in the mornings.

Able: Ah, apologies.

Able sighs, sitting up a bit more, twisting his back a bit to stretch it further. Virgil lifts his arm, lazily holding it onto Able's shoulder.

Virgil: -Nonchalantly.- I didn't say you had to leave. Able blinks, looking at Virgil before settling back down, wrapping his arms around him. He hums a bit.

Able: Mh. Alright then I wont.

Able huffs in faux annoyance. Virgil lazily wraps an Arm around Able, closing their eyes as their head flickers into the head of a bee for a moment. . .

Virgil: -Quietly.- Now, don't be a nuisance. . .

A sigh scalds the top of Able's head, his forehead warmed by the breath.

Virgil: -Sighing.- . . .mm. I suppose I should get up, though. . .ah, but I could do with resting a while longer. Able gently squeezes Virgil, before pulling away. He sighs dramatically.

Able: Yes well, I must go deal with my oral health.

Able slowly stands, stretching out all the sore muscles he'd gained from being so tense. He'd probably have to take it easy for a day or so.

Virgil: Ha. Good luck getting the bathroom to stick. . .

Virgil lets go of Able, letting their arm rest where it may.

Virgil: Try thinking about. . .mirrors. Possibly natural urges.

---

Able had returned, clean and fresh, and with less fear of his teeth falling out of his head.

Able: Ah, so, what sorts of things were you wanting to do today, mh? Virgil had fully roused from sleep, though not without difficulty; the only reason he hadn't slept longer was because he was spoilt on the comfort of his bed at home, and the shifting fabric weaves was just a tad uncomfortable. They're sitting up, tracing two fingers along the underside of their eyes as they tuck the wax of the husk flush with the amber eyes underneath.

Virgil: -Blinking a few times.- Mh, well, I'm certain we could find a nice marketplace to wander about for a bit. It's far too early to eat breakfast, and far too late for dinner.

Able: There's this wonderful thing in between breakfast and dinner called lunch.

Able snickers, moving to his recently cleaned clothes to pull on his blue undershirt. The deacon stretches, their eyes open as they inspect their own body for imperfections and warped wax. They had slept in the same clothes they had, claiming they weren't worried about the mess (and, currently, it seems as if their outfit is mostly clean of its own accord).

Virgil: -Nonchalantly.- Don't be ridiculous, lunch is outlawed currently. Though, I'm sure that it'll be appealed to be permissible in a few minutes. Able buttons up his shirt and pulls over his sweater on top. He sighs, moving to turn towards Virgil. He furrows his brow, gently touching his face.

Able: Hm.

Able gently smooths out a small portion of Virgil's face, and seems pleased.

Able: Seems you move a bit more in your sleep.

Virgil: -Raising an eyebrow; flatly.- Ah, so you've memorized my face while I slept? You pervert.

Able: Oh don't be a twat. Mh.

Able pulls his hands away, sliding them into his pockets.

Able: Besides, I er... Had already done that.

Able looks away, flushing a bit.

Able: Not that it makes me look any better.

Virgil: -Flat.- Well, now you're a pervert and obsessive.

Virgil brushes their hand through their hair, bringing lose hairs back towards the peak of their candle-like hair.

Virgil: Good eye for detail, though; now put it towards baking. Speaking of which, if we're heading to the marketplace, you might as well stock up on some hard-to-find ingredients.

Able: Oy you're the one who made me inspect your husk.

Able sighs dramatically.

Able: I suppose, though without knowing what they're used for I'm not sure what use I'd have. Should be interesting though. I was thinking about getting some stuff from merely Thomas but... Virgil holds a finger to their mouth.

Virgil: Speak of the devil; don't mention a word of the markets to him. He would go mad knowing you were there and didn't smuggle anything for him.

Able: Ah, indeed.

---

Virgil and Able had wandered to a (rather shady) marketplace that had accompanied the space between two buildings (both of which had warped to accompany the stalls). Split into an illicit Surface market and a Neath market, the two agreed to separate on their own to find what they wished and returning at the entrance (the deacon had lent Able an indeterminate sum of money beforehand).

They knew they'd be fine, for they saw two copies of their future selves had managed to return to the entrance of their own accord. Currently, Virgil is walking alongside Able, holding two fingers to the bridge of their nose and a bag of bottles clinking against one another.

Virgil: . . .you bought flour? Able adjusts the bag close to him so he wouldn't drop it.

Able: ...Yes? Pure flour is a bit of a hard to come by object.

Able bristles a bit, the large amount of fur around his now shifted opossum face standing on edge. It was easy to see him as a lot more nervous this way, small ears constantly listening at different angles, fur fluffed up so much as to put an angry cat to shame.

Able: I'm hopeful to make some very soft bread. The bakeries around tend to only do dense loaves.

Virgil: -Groaning, almost in pain.- You had an entire unexplored market available to you, and you spent the money I lent on ground grains. Even alcohol would've resold for more.

The deacon walks along, raising their bag of clinking of bottles.

Virgil: Please tell me you got something else, at least. Able looks at Virgil, unamused.

Able: Yes, a bruised shin.

Virgil: . . .you'd make the Bishop of Southwark proud, because you are killing me right now.

Virgil lifts their bag of bottles, holding it up as they inspect it.

Virgil: Well, at least the trip wasn't a complete bust. I got some Surface liqueurs. . .elderflower, violet, rose. . .

Able: ...Ah. F l o w e r s.

Able makes a bit of a grimace, thinking about how bitter and soapy it was when he tried such flavors.

Able: What do you intend to use them for?

Virgil: They're good for cocktails. Or baking, in syrups and glazes.

Virgil reaches into their bag, lifting a bottle filled with translucent, purple-brown fluid.

Virgil: It'll be fun, getting home for this. The deacon pauses for a moment, reflecting for a bit.

Virgil: . . .hm. Jog my memory; how long have we been here?

Able: Ah, five days I believe.

Able looks up at Virgil. He wondered a bit what flower he enjoyed most. The deacon squints a bit, their eyes narrowing.

Virgil: Ah, bother. I had only scheduled to be here for two days.

Able: Erm? Two?

Able looks confused, his fur bristling more around the edges.

Virgil: Oh, don't worry, we still have time, though we're cutting it close. . .ah, we'll have to get back to our temporary lodgings and start checking out. . .

The deacon shudders for a moment.

Virgil: -Irritated.- It just felt like we got here, and now I already have to head back. . .

The deacon's head flickers for a moment, shifting between the head of a bee and a fuzzy, slightly unclear shape of dark gray. The smell of ash fills the air; the deacon has the head of a dark-gray wolf, though retaining their titular amber eyes. Able blinks looking up at Virgil with a sudden new curiosity. Able had never seen a wolf before, besides in various zoological texts the bandaged would show on occasion. He wasn't aware of how much... Fur... there was. Able leans into Virgil, still staring at him.

Able: ..Perhaps we should at least get our things together.

Able was resisting the urge to reach out and touch his ears. There was so much fur, and it all looked so soft.

Virgil: It'll be easy to pack, so long as you've got discipline and can will your luggage to stay in one place. . .

The deacon notices the pressure on their shoulder, turning to look at Able.

Virgil: . . .what's with the staring?

---

Able waited until they got back to their room to try anything. He watches Virgil as he packs, putting the terrible statue into his bag as well.

Able: Good thing I hadn't brought much, ey?

Able stares at Virgil a bit, still fairly fluffy himself. He wondered if it was soft. Had to be right? The deacon is currently sitting on the bed, struggling to close the pack, their canine head baring teeth noiselessly.

Virgil: -Strained.- I can't say I have the same luxury. Able moves over towards Virgil, leaning slightly into him.

Able: Do you need help?

The deacon slowly breathes, pausing for a moment before they slowly ease their weight onto the pack.

Virgil: I'll be fine. . .

The deacon's head flickers between the head of a wolf and their usual head; the suitcase slowly flattens, the size increasing to accommodate the new objects. The suitcase clicks close; Virgil sighs, rubbing their eyes.

Virgil: -Sighing.- There we are. . . Able reaches up and touches Virgil's wolf ear.

Able: Ah. It is soft.

The ear flicks, the deacon sitting up to look at Able.

Virgil: . . .really?

Able: Mh.

Able nods, moving both his hands to either side of Virgil's face, looking a little enamored, but doesn't do more than a light touch.

Able: ...Can I?

The deacon stares at Able with squinted eyes, the amber pupils underneath dilating a small bit.

Virgil: -Raising a finger.- Counteroffer; only if I can do the same to you.

Able: Oh. Of course.

Able presses his fingers through the deacon's fur. He looks so focused and enthused, moving his hands up to gently rub at their ears. There was so much fur on the inside. It must be difficult to hear, Able mused.

Able: So soft.. Virgil sits back on the bed, sighing a bit.

Virgil: . . .have you never seen a dog before?

Able: Yes. That doesn't mean that I've been close to one, though.

Able huffs, flattening the deacons ears, a little amused when they spring back up, doing it a second time. He seems satisfied, giving Virgil one last pet on top of his head.

Able: Curiosity sated.

Able sits next to Virgil, looking up expectantly.

Virgil sighs, sitting back in their bed.

Virgil: Well, enough of that, then. . .

The deacon settles comfortably, lifting an arm to grab Able's shoulder and pulling him close, shoulder to shoulder.

Virgil: -Flatly.- Oh, how bothersome. How would you like it if your head was caught in a scuffle like that, then?

Virgil moves a hand to lightly past Able's head, a few fingers digging in lightly.

Virgil: -Exceedingly monotone.- Woe betide you.

Able looks exceptionally happy, enjoying the small affection and pressing his head up towards the deacon's hand.

Able: I'm sensing that maybe you enjoy this.

Able snickers, wrapping an arm around Virgil.

Virgil: Now, don't project your own wants and desires onto me.

Virgil sits back with a small sigh, closing their eyes as they rub at Able's head; their head flickers between the face of a wolf and the head of a bee as they pet.

Able: Oh of course, wouldn't want me knowing that you like things. That would be scandalous.

Able moves to a more comfortable position, straddling Virgil's lap merely so he can get both his arms around him.

The deacon's head flickers, shifting to the head of a bee for the time being. Virgil reclines backwards, resting their head in the palm of their hand as he lazily scratches the top of Able's opossum head.

Virgil: Come now, you know I enjoy many things. Flowers. Honey. Baked goods.

Able seems to get very comfortable, to the point of nearly going limp. Enough for his face to shift back to normal. He sighs happily.

Able: Mhm.

Virgil suddenly clasps Able's head with their hands.

Virgil: Aha. You fell for it.

The mandibles on the deacon's face open up, exposing the secondary mandibles and other mouthparts on the inside. Inside the mouth, Able can hear a buzzing intonation, the vibrations reverberating across his skull as Virgil lowers his head.

Virgil: -Buzzing loudly.- Now that you're so relaxed. . .

The mandibles open wide, the primary mandibles going to grip Able's cheekbones while the secondary ones click menacingly; between them, a chitinous tapered tube extends, now clearly visible to Able instead of being known by tongue alone. The chitinous tube drips a fluid onto Able's face, a few drops peppering his cheeks.

Virgil: -Buzzing; hissing loudly.- . . .it's time for your abstraction.

Able gasps a bit, startled by the sudden movement. He looks at the deacon, then looks away. He gets very flush.

Able: O-Oh... goodness.. Hm..

The mandibles click, squeezing lightly for a moment. . .

Virgil: . . .hm.

. . .before retreating. The chitinous tube retracts, never touching Able; the secondary mandibles withdraw, merely grazing Able's lips for a moment; and the primary mandibles let go of Able's cheekbones, letting his head rest again. Amber pupils are staring at Able, slightly dilated. Despite the fact that the face of a bee doesn't have any eyebrows, there is still a feeling of squinting by the warped dilation of the amber eyes.

Virgil: -Buzzing.- . . .you are strangely calm for someone at risk of being soulless.

Able: . . .Well..

Able covers his face a bit, just getting more red at the thought. He is suddenly very aware of himself, trying not to show too much.

Able: ...Perhaps . . . I trust you more than you thought...?

Able gives a bit of a sheepish smile, knowing that wasn't entirely false, though certainly not the main reason. Virgil stares at Able, their mandibles clicking once.

Virgil: -Unimpressed.- Are you saying that for my sake, or yours?

Able: M-Mh..

Able looks away even more, covering his face with both of his hands.

Able: ...Both?

Virgil: . . .why, Able, are you into being hunted?

The deacon leans forward, their mandibles spreading for a moment as they grip onto Able's shoulder, pulling him close.

Virgil: -Chittering; bemused.- Are you really thinking about being caught by a devil and abstracted?

Able refuses to look at Virgil, but it's fairly easy to see his face nearly completely red. He tries very hard to cover his face and ignore the now tenseness in his pants. He curses himself a bit.

Able: Ah....mh... Not with just any devil... though.. I'm not..

Able can't seem to focus his thoughts a bit, his head already getting a little fuzzy.

Virgil leans in towards Able's neck, pulling him up and scalding his neck as the mandibles drag lightly along the front of his neck.

Virgil: Oh? Are you thinking about having your soul endangered, then?

The mandibles slowly part, the hooked ends wrapping around the sides of Able's neck. Virgil lowers Able, the mandibles dragging upwards as they make him face eye-to-eye. The buzzing reverberates in the air, with infernal breaths scalding Able's lips.

Virgil: -Buzzing; hissing, but with a bemused tone.- Are you excited about being overpowered and abstracted, then? Able presses his hands against Virgil's shoulders, pushing him away just lightly.

Able: Ah. Th...That's enough.

He sighs heavily, fairly overwhelmed.

The deacon pauses, before sitting back, holding their arms behind their head.

Virgil: -Buzzing; bemused.- If you insist, then. Virgil: -Sitting back, chittering a vague melody.- Good to know, though. Able rests against Virgil, sighing. He was glad at least to be listened to. Maybe too much, though.

---

The two spent the last day going through the markets. Well, Virgil was going through it, and Able got occasionally lost. Eventually they did meet up again, Able looking even more bristled than usual. He'd seen a vendor selling teeth, and asking if he was willing to part with his own. The two settled for a dinner, and then it seemed to be time to leave.

They talked a bit, before running into each other, and speaking with themselves. Able had to remember what he'd said and then perked up when he did. Able is quickly shuffled aside by his own Virgil, watching as the past two walk further with a tinge of confusion.

He was filled with a sudden dread as he stepped onto the docks, feeling himself shift uncomfortably when stepping through the arch.

Able: Ah... Right... Boats... The deacon is following along behind Able, hissing under their breath. As they walk, the apian head they don flakes away like burnt wood, with pieces falling off like ashen branches.

Virgil: -Through gritted teeth; to Able.- . . .that's what you told yourself?

Able grins, amused.

Able: It was what was already told to me.

He moves forward, adjusting his bag as he moves towards the ship.

Able: Besides, you seemed to enjoy it more. The deacon heads along, adjusting their rosary as they walk along.

Virgil: I shall make no comment about that.

The deacon heads forward, waving towards the ship-captain at the end of the pier.

Virgil: . . .well, I'll make one; don't ingest it orally. You could've gotten your throat scarred, if any devil decided to dig deep for it. Able: Mhm. Certainly was lovely either way.

Able looks back at Virgil, sighing.

Able: Though I am sorry for causing you such trouble. Honestly, if I was.. More aware.. Well I suppose I would have just stashed the thing and forgotten about it.

Virgil: I think it was best that you did ingest it instead of leaving it around.

Virgil: -Flatly.- Can you imagine if your good friend Thomas knew that you had it on your person? Able: ...He'd certainly get himself killed.

---

They settled in as soon as they had declared their items. Able had taken the blanket off of his bunk to wrap around him as he settled into the corner. He sat facing away from the tiny port window so he didn't have to look at it. He seemed just as uncomfortable as he was the last trip.

The deacon is seated at their cot, their back against the walls of the hull, sitting rather still as the ship bobs along the waves. They had set their suitcase underneath the cot, and laid their coat along the cot for some kind of comfort.

Virgil: . . .do you need me to put the coat over the window again?

Able looks up.

Able: Ah, no.. Er.. Perhaps I just need some distraction. Not quite tired enough for sleep anyhow.

He sighs shakily, and reaches for his bag, rifling through it.

Able: Certainly we could do something more interesting than sleep, or talk, mh? Virgil: -Craning their neck forward.- Ah, like what?

The deacon is sitting a bit stiffly, their legs separated a bit as they try to see what Able's pulling out.

Able: Well I got cards before we left.. The design was fairly appealing..

Able pulls out a small box of cards, and looks up at Virgil, squinting.

Able: . . .Er.

Able leans forward a bit.

Able: . . .Are you. . Still riled up, deacon?

Virgil: Yes, but I would like to justify that in remarking that you still have a vague smell on you.

The deacon sits back, unbuttoning their first button and popping their collar.

Able sighs, and sets the cards down.

Able: Would you like assistance, then? It's a long trip after all. The deacon stares for a moment, before they start unbuttoning down along their shirt.

Virgil: . . .I would. Close the door, while you're coming over here.

Able stands, still a little unsteady whilst walking on a moving ship. He moves to the door, closing it quietly.

Able: Must be fairly difficult to deal with on your own, I'd figure.

Able turns towards Virgil, watching for a moment before standing in front of him.

Able: What would you prefer I do?

The deacon continues unbuttoning their shirt, pausing with their shirt half-way unbuttoned; the upper part of their chest is exposed, showing several slight holes exposing black chitin underneath. They sit with their legs spread slightly, staring at Able.

Virgil: I want you to move closer. Able nods, stepping towards Virgil slowly, placing a hand on his shoulder. He still seems a bit shaky, the boat's movements very much still on his mind.

Able: Mh, and?

The deacon grabs Able's shoulder, pulling him closer as they stare into his eyes.

Virgil: Open your mouth. Able adjusts himself a bit, steadying himself against the wall behind the deacon.

Able: ..A-Ah?

Able opens his mouth, looking a touch confused.

The deacon leans in, hooking their arm around Able's back, pulling him close so he's pushed forward face-to-face.

Virgil: Thank you.

The deacon leans forward, planting a kiss onto Able's lips.

Virgil: Mh. . .c'mere.

The deacon pulls Able further forward onto their lap, pushing their lips onto him; a hot, scalding breath flows over Able's lips as they sigh contentedly.

Able is a little surprised, but that settles quickly. He slowly moves his arms around Virgil's neck, comfortably straddling his lap. He presses his mouth gently against the deacon's. He gets fairly flush, but overall seems to have settled quite a bit.

Able: Ah...-

Able still seemed to be unsure if he should call the deacon by name, and decides to just be cautious.

The deacon pulls Able closer, pushing his hip towards their own as they hold a hand behind Able's head.

Virgil: -Muffled.- Mmh. . .open up.

A stinging warmth rushes over Able's lips; something with barbed hooks is prodding at his mouth, the tips catching on the inner part of his lips and slipping in just a little bit.

Able seems to get interested, opening his mouth a bit, pressing further against Virgil. He tepidly tests it with his tongue, letting it slide in but still fairly curious to his mouth. He quietly looks at the deacon as he pulls him closer. Able gives Virgil an odd look, relaxed and possibly happy.

Virgil stares down at Able, the shades of amber thinning as they relax their gaze in a slow blink.

Virgil: -Quietly; muffled.- Mh. . .so that's what it is. . .

The hooks push its way into Able's mouth, the familiar feeling of Virgil's secondary mandibles scraping against Able's lips as they enter. The mandibles shifts over each other, the fluttery chittering tickling the tip of Able's tongue.

Virgil: -Clear; inside Able's mouth.- . . .so how long did you want this?

Able looks to the side briefly before returning back to Virgil, indicating something, but all that was likely picked up was annoyance. His tongue seems to tentatively brush against any surface that wasn't his own, he was testing things. He still doesn't make any sounds, but the deepening of the red flush on his face indicated enough interest.

As Able tongues around, he can feel the chitinous mandibles chittering inside his mouth; the claw-like extensions feel smooth, clean but with a definite interstitial grain streaked towards the tip. The barbed hooks catch lightly onto Able's tongue, not digging deep but definitely requiring a little force before Able's tongue can pull away.

In-between the mandibles, there's a tapered, narrow cone of polished chitin pushing itself forward; there are definite ridges running the length of the tube, with something fluttering about the tip. The tube parts, the ridges flexing open a bit with soft, membranous material in-between; a firm, moist length slides along Able's tongue, the length curling and uncoiling repeatedly along the surfaces of his mouth.

Virgil: -Clear; sighing.- Mmh. . .you seem to be enjoying yourself.

The deacon pulls Able back; in a moment, they readjust so they're lying on their back on their cot with Able draped over their chest. Able gets a little more excited as he explores this new appendage. He tries to get a better feel for it, but keeping the deacon's tongue-like tube down seemed to be a struggle. When he's moved on top of Virgil he props himself up, his hands sliding up the deacon's sides and moving up towards his chest and neck.

He gently feels between the little holes along his grazing fingers, not prodding deeper than a surface touch. Able pulls away, sighing.

Able: Hhf... Virgil... you are amazing..

As Able pulls away, the barbed hooks on the secondary mandibles grip the inside of his lips, letting go reluctantly. For a moment, Able can see two small hooks retract into Virgil's mouth, hiding quickly behind their lips. The deacon sighs contentedly, relaxing for a moment; as soon as Able finishes his sentence, however, he tenses up, their eyes staring at Able through amber eyes reflecting bright in the dimly lit barrack.

Virgil: -Quietly.- . . .you shouldn't have said that. . .

He grips onto Able's shoulder, quickly and effortlessly pulling him close.

Virgil: -Through gritted teeth; internally buzzing loudly.- . . .you're playing a dangerous game, Able. . .

There is a loud, almost angry buzzing reverberating in their chest, the noise tickling Able's face. The deacon suddenly pulls Able to their side, before quickly sliding over Able and pinning them below, their back pressed against the metal cot and their chest pushed up against Virgil's.

A little lower down, Able can feel a block of warmth bulging against his groin, pushing through the deacon's pants and slowly slithering upwards.

Virgil: -Buzzing.- . . .I am not responsible for what happens to you now. . .

The deacon quickly pushes their head into Able's neck, parting their lips and biting Able's neck. . .

Virgil: -Buzzing.- Mmhf. . .you did this to yourself. . .mmhf. .

. . .repeatedly. After a moment of kissing, the deacon buzzes and clamps their mouth onto the side of Able's neck; underneath the wax lips, Able can feel the chitinous mandibles pinching Able's skin repeatedly in the same spot, the points pushing hard and threatening to penetrate the flesh; they relax, however, just before they pierce through the skin. Able gasps, feeling himself fairly riled from the sudden aggression. He could see why... Able blinks. He feels an odd pit in his stomach, but its repeatedly silenced when Virgil presses into him.

He winces when he feels the deacon break skin, wrapping his arms around him tightly. He wheezes a bit, feeling a sense of guilt wash over him. He wanted this, but it felt all a bit overwhelming, and he didn't know if the deacon felt similarly at all.

Able: A-Ah... sorry.. is..

Able swallows, clinging to Virgil a bit.

Able: -Quietly, shakily- Is this ok? Am I being too much? The pinching on Able's neck ceases for a moment as the deacon withdraws; they stare at Able, their eyes narrowed a bit with their eyebrows furrowed in mild confusion.

Virgil: . . .you're the one that's under a devil. Shouldn't I be asking you if you're alright?

He pauses for a moment, before lowering himself onto Able's chest and looking him in the eye; a small grunt warms Able's face as the bulge snaking its way up along their shirt adjusts along Able's midriff.

Virgil: -Quiet.- Mhf. . .if you're concerned, though. . .

The deacon plants a kiss on Able's lips, sighing lightly; their breath dries Able's face as he holds the top of Able's head.

Virgil: . . .you are fine.

The deacon lightly pulls on Able's head, pulling his head back.

Virgil: Now, show me that neck of yours. Able looks to relax, relieved.

Able: ..Is that so.. then..

Able presses his hands on Virgil's back, pushing him into himself as he presses his groin up into the deacon, sighing heavily. He looks up at Virgil, an intense gaze that could be mistaken for lust if you were so careless. He settles back down, moving his head as to expose his neck, still staring up at the deacon.

Able: Sate yourself, then, Virgil.