Mizu kisses him harder than he would expect, leaving his kiss in return likely a little clumsier than she would prefer. There is passion in the kiss, but there is something else he feels in the intensity behind her kiss that Vergil cannot name, cannot identify. Except, he thinks, he has heard similar talk before. Not as heated, no, and certainly gentler, but...
Mizu breaks the kiss with a noise that sounds near to a growl, but Vergil does not stop her. He does not, however, sink into the feeling of her mouth against his skin. There is too much disconnect between the act and himself, between Mizu and him for him to feel even the harshest press of her teeth as happening to his own skin. For all that Mizu has been confused regarding his thoughts of and feelings for her, never has she had such force behind her refutation of it. Not even when he called her beautiful had there been such an energy behind it.
He finds it... he finds it so difficult to understand. Months ago, he had taken her on the floor of her living room, and in that fit of passion sprung forth a greater intimacy than either of them had ever really known. Vergil let the words slip from him as quietly as he could for fear of a reaction like this one. But he received its opposite then.
She buries her face in his neck and Vergil wraps his arms firmly around her. He doesn't believe it will make a difference to how she's feeling, but Vergil doesn't know what else to do, how to possibly soothe what she's feeling. He considers it briefly, but declaring his feelings firmly and true would likely only produce a worse result. Mizu knows how he feels, and to some extent, that appears to be the problem. Asking her to explain it to him doesn't even cross his mind as a possibility. Teasing her even gently or at his own expense just seems cruel. So, he is left without any words. Not his own. Not borrowed. Useless as it feels to him, a warm embrace and silent patience is all he can offer.
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Mizu breaks the kiss with a noise that sounds near to a growl, but Vergil does not stop her. He does not, however, sink into the feeling of her mouth against his skin. There is too much disconnect between the act and himself, between Mizu and him for him to feel even the harshest press of her teeth as happening to his own skin. For all that Mizu has been confused regarding his thoughts of and feelings for her, never has she had such force behind her refutation of it. Not even when he called her beautiful had there been such an energy behind it.
He finds it... he finds it so difficult to understand. Months ago, he had taken her on the floor of her living room, and in that fit of passion sprung forth a greater intimacy than either of them had ever really known. Vergil let the words slip from him as quietly as he could for fear of a reaction like this one. But he received its opposite then.
She buries her face in his neck and Vergil wraps his arms firmly around her. He doesn't believe it will make a difference to how she's feeling, but Vergil doesn't know what else to do, how to possibly soothe what she's feeling. He considers it briefly, but declaring his feelings firmly and true would likely only produce a worse result. Mizu knows how he feels, and to some extent, that appears to be the problem. Asking her to explain it to him doesn't even cross his mind as a possibility. Teasing her even gently or at his own expense just seems cruel. So, he is left without any words. Not his own. Not borrowed. Useless as it feels to him, a warm embrace and silent patience is all he can offer.