Immediately, he wants to laugh. Needing this, of all things... this frenetic push and pull, this outlet for all the anger and sadness that's been building up and up since arriving here, this senseless violence that feeds his more base instincts while the rest of him grows a little more hollow.
Maybe he did need this, but he doesn't need Tartaglia, and he makes that known by slamming into him with particular vehemence. Don't talk to him like you know him, like you understand what he needs. There's anger in Diluc's voice, but there's sorrow too.]
...Don't speak as if you understand what I need.
[And yet he does, sickeningly, this Fatui trash. Could it be that Tartaglia is just as angry, just as sad, bereft of purpose in a land where everything he's ever wanted has been taken from him? Are they the same? They're both hell-bound, but don't tell him they're the same. Don't tell him that this was meant to happen, needed to happen, to prove some larger point.
No matter how hard he pistons into Tartaglia, that wellspring of anger and sadness grows. Wishing to bring this to a swift end, Diluc pitches forward and wraps his hand around Tartaglia's cock, jerking at him.]
Don't pretend to understand. Open your mouth again and I'll kill you.
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Immediately, he wants to laugh. Needing this, of all things... this frenetic push and pull, this outlet for all the anger and sadness that's been building up and up since arriving here, this senseless violence that feeds his more base instincts while the rest of him grows a little more hollow.
Maybe he did need this, but he doesn't need Tartaglia, and he makes that known by slamming into him with particular vehemence. Don't talk to him like you know him, like you understand what he needs. There's anger in Diluc's voice, but there's sorrow too.]
...Don't speak as if you understand what I need.
[And yet he does, sickeningly, this Fatui trash. Could it be that Tartaglia is just as angry, just as sad, bereft of purpose in a land where everything he's ever wanted has been taken from him? Are they the same? They're both hell-bound, but don't tell him they're the same. Don't tell him that this was meant to happen, needed to happen, to prove some larger point.
No matter how hard he pistons into Tartaglia, that wellspring of anger and sadness grows. Wishing to bring this to a swift end, Diluc pitches forward and wraps his hand around Tartaglia's cock, jerking at him.]
Don't pretend to understand. Open your mouth again and I'll kill you.