"So," Rook rumbles beside his ear. "You don't like responsibility either." There's a little bit of a mocking edge to it. "Isn't that at least half of your decision?"
There's something sinfully attractive about a man with this much self-restrain but obvious signs of eventually unraveling under the nudging, those gut wrenching sounds that he makes at times, the way he looks with heat crawling on his cheeks. Might drive a mage to desperate acts eventually.
Rook grunts soft under his breath as he reaches further below that ballsack, one fingertip circling Ulysse's hole.
That touch to the back gives Ulysse pause, but then he shifts his legs a tiny bit further apart obligingly. His eyes flick to Rook's face, then, and he smiles.
"Or perhaps I like mutual... 'concessions' being made," he suggests, voice breathy and low. "You have your terms, I have mine."
And as much as he'd like to kiss and touch Rook right back, until the man actually asks him, Ulysse will keep his hands right where they are.
Mutual concessions. Rook's lips twist into a feral little smile that ends up being wrapped around Ulysse's earlobe as he considers the 'suggestion'. Sorry, but no. He likes this game too much.
Eventually one of them will give in and he's not counting it out being himself. But right now he's fine. Even if his cock has been rock hard and resting against Ulysse's thigh for a while now. If it were about just pleasure, then he might have already 'yielded' because it's such a pointless thing to be stubborn about. But it's... Well, not just about sex.
"How long will you be able to stand behind that?" he asks, voice soft and light suddenly.
Then he moves and it happens like the ocean suddenly turning the tide, like a hurricane sweeping in. His hands pull away, he steps back only to grab Ulysse by his shoulders and turns him around, strong hands pressing the man against the barrels before Rook grabs his breeches and yanks them down. He grabs a solid hold of the loose shirt at Ulysse's back, bunching it under his rough hand and presses the man by it to the barrels. Then he leans in and slips his hand between those round buttocks, fingers slick with his spit as he rubs over Ulysse's hole a few times before pressing in one finger.
"I rather like the idea of you riding my cock and having nothing to hold onto, princess," Rook teases beside his ear before he maps that exposed neck with his mouth.
Ulysse's hands slap against the barrels as he's turned, stopping himself from smacking his head against the wood, looking back over his shoulder as Rook's pulling his trousers down. He barely has time to brace himself before that slicked finger's at his hole and pushing in.
Still he manages a quiet laugh, hands shifting to better brace himself against the barrels. "I seem to have something to hold right here."
The way his shirt's been bunched leaves his lower back exposed. Ulysse's usually very picky about the positions he takes in sex, just to avoid showing his back and the criss-cross of whip-lash scars that go all the way down to his upper thighs, marring even his buttocks. It's telling that he doesn't fight against Rook for the position he's put in. He knows it's probably because he knows Rook would have similar scars himself, but it's more than that. For as short a time as they've known each other, Ulysse knows the mage wouldn't let the scars distract him or draw any condescension, nor pity. They're simply there.
Seeing the scars angers Rook. That's for sure. It pisses him off to think that someone had even thought they had the right to beat this man up for whatever ridiculous bullshit they might have wanted from him. Maybe to make him perform better, maybe to punish him. It doesn't matter. What matters is that they had no right.
Rook's mouth is hot against a ridged scar that goes all the way down from Ulysse's shoulder to his hip. His touch, his hold isn't any more gentler because of it, but there is something almost possessive about it as he mouths his way up along the white line while his finger slicks back and forth a few times before he twists it around, pressing down, deeper, seeking something, somewhere nearer Ulysse's core. Once he locates what he's looking for, he presses down, hounding that little gland that will push electric pleasure through his princess.
"Don't count on it," he says roughly. Maybe it's a promise?
The man jerks hard and there's a strangled little noise caught in his throat as Rook's finger starts focusing on that little gland. Mouth falling open as he rests his brow to the barrel, breathing audibly as he stills himself, not wanting to lose himself to the pleasure already.
It doesn't escape his notice how Rook's mouthing at his scars, hot and slick playing over the much abused flesh. Ulysse isn't sure how to interpret it, but it doesn't feel bad... Quite the opposite, in fact.
"Why? Do you plan to bind me?" he asks archly. He suspects Rook would never chain him, though there are plenty of ways to immobilise a man than by simply shackling him.
There's a throaty little laughter rolling from Rook's throat as he shakes his head. "You don't need to be tied down ever again," he says roughly. "But I could just pull you back a few steps and your handhold would disappear."
He doesn't, though, because he likes the way Ulysse leans onto the barrels as if he needs the support. And to be honest, he's not eager to prove a point by giving them no choice but to cling to Rook. That wouldn't be winning this game. It would be
He brings out his finger for a moment, then replaces it with two freshly slicked digits, pushing them in slow but persistent, spreading them open when he has them sunk in to the last joint.
It's a stretch and one that makes Ulysse stiffen with a soft noise, eyes closing as a faint shiver goes down his spine as he relaxes down again. Then there's another soft, strained laugh and he glances back, eyes heated and dancing as he points out, "You could... but it would be harder for you to really ride me hard, wouldn't it?"
He even tights down on those fingers, letting Rook know exactly how tight he can get, even as the increase in pressure makes Ulysse himself shudder. It's enough to make his fingers dig into the wood, short nails threatening to draw up some splinters.
"So, you want to be ridden hard?" Rook asks with a rumble of a laughter barely managing to rise out of his throat.
Fuck yes, he wants to ride this hole so hard. The mere thought of it makes him feel dizzy for a moment as Ulysse's fingers tighten around his fingers, making him pause for a moment because the pressure is too much to move. He groans, the sound tight and strained, wheezing out through his nose.
"Aye, there's a thing I can promise you, princess," he murmurs against Ulysse's neck, holding him tight against the barrels as he starts to move his fingers again, fucking Ulysse with determined thrusts.
"I doubt you've a gentle bone in your body," comes the sarcastic response, even as his voice is cut off with a low gasp as the fingers start fucking into him. Ulysse seriously does doubt Rook even knows how to fuck slowly, let alone gently, to be honest.
Ulysse doesn't talk about himself, he doesn't express any preferences, he only reacts. The only thing he wanted was for Rook to ask to be kissed. It makes the mage curious. Before long it'll haunt him to know just how his princess prefers to have his cock...
His finger pauses as he leans onto Ulysse's back, his digits deep inside that tight hole. "Is that what you'd want?" he asks and there is actual genuine curiosity in his tone of voice.
Ulysse doesn't answer at first, more focused on how his body shakes from having those fingers suddenly stop in their movements, sweat making his shirt now stick to his body. Wetting his lips, he huffs a short, husky laugh and glances back again, staring at Rook's face.
"Does it matter?"
Such consideration is rarely used in quick, most likely one-off encounters like these, after all. Oh, he's sure Rook might come sniffing around again when there's a change in weather, but he's got little to offer anyone to even want to stay.
Rook's eyes narrow, almost like he's considering it. There's a nasty little tilt to his brows that says that he knows exactly what he's doing, though. He hums, thoughtfully and nudges his fingers against Ulysse's prostate, almost like an afterthought.
"Here I thought you said something about mutually beneficial-- or was it concessions?"
That fingertip inside him is dancing slowly over his prostate, rubbing circles around it, pressing and pressing again. Rook's mouth finds a spot on Ulysse's jaw, biting down on it, not all that hard but sharp enough to be felt.
Ulysse's eyes close again, brow furrowing a bit as his mouth falls open, soft but still audible gasps forced from him as that finger keeps massaging at his prostate, contrasted harshly by the bite to his jaw. He's absently thinking he's glad he has a beard to hide the mark, because that might be just a bit too obvious a target for Kai's teasing.
... Though to be fair, there's a very good chance any of the other crew will chance upon them at any second.
That's enough, isn't it? Rook groans against Ulysse's jaw as he pulls his fingers out and for a moment he'll have to let the man stand on his own two feet while he fumbles with his belt and trousers. A little bit of magic draws moisture from the air, thickening it as he strokes it onto his cock, hissing between his teeth at the sensation over his ignored dick.
It doesn't take long before he bunches Ulysse's shirt in his tight fist again and pulls the man close to him, his other hand busy to align his cock with that stretched hole and then it's just heat and sinking deeper and deeper with his ears buzzing with busy noise of nothing at all.
"F-fuck..." he lets out a rough curse as he bottoms out, hips pressed flush against Ulysse's.
Ulysse is silent as he's filled, biting down on his lower lip hard to hold back any noises that might try to escape. There's a euphoria specifically to having a cock pressed into him that whites out Ulysse's mind, second only to actually getting to orgasm, and the way his cheeks fill with colour and dazed eyes blink blankly at nothing could easily be mistaken as an expression of climax.
His exhale is shaky and loud while his hands blindly search for the ropes tying the barrels together, fingers curling into them to give him something solid to hang onto. This isn't going to be an easy ride and he relishes the thought. Perhaps he should be more concerned with how clearly pleased the spirit riding him is, feeling those waves of satisfaction washing through him and only intensifying the feeling of penetration, no doubt making his aura ripple for Rook's viewing pleasure, the scent of the ocean growing with a cool breeze coming from seemingly nowhere.
The breeze makes Rook's nostrils flare but he doesn't consciously make a note of the scent. Instead he breathes in deep, his chest filling with air as he lets out a grunt and then another. He's louder than Ulysse, his hands tight as they grip the man, veins protruding from his arms and chest heaving up and down as he tries to pedal back the pleasure that's threatening to overwhelm him.
There's no pulling back from it, though, it comes and it takes when it wants, like the ocean, washing against the rocks of the shore until they're worn down to nothing.
Sex hasn't been like this for him ever since his drowning. It's been muted and sort of boring. But this here, this is vibrant and raw and he has no weapons against it.
He doesn't even notice when his hips pull back until he's driving forward with force, skin slapping against skin, echoed by the ha that erupts from his lips. Then it happens again. Only faster, harder. And keeps happening. Repeatedly, endlessly. His hands find a purchase on Ulysse's hips, pulling him back while he surges forward, driving into him hard and relentless.
The first thrust is met with a low grunt, Ulysse's head bowing and fingers wrapping tight around the ropes as he braces himself. But then the next comes faster and harder, making his mouth fall open on a loud gasp. And then again. And again. Ulysse bites down on his lip again, strained moans slipping past his teeth, expression pained from the sharp, intense pleasure that's being driven into him. The spirit demands it, feeding off their lust combined, it's own deep, echoing voice slipping through with Ulysse's soft, bitten off cries.
A ship is never silent, but it seems so quiet now, while the sounds of their fucking only seem to grow deafeningly loud. From the slick squelches of Rook's cock burying itself repeatedly in Ulysse's ass to the slap of skin and the thumping of the barrels as the slender body is rocked unrelentingly hard and fast into them. Rook's grunts are animalistic and loud, single-minded as he takes his pleasure from the willing body before him, contrasted to Ulysse's barely contained cries and gasps.
He can't remember the last time he was taken so roughly, but by all the seas, Ulysse's loving it. It's likely to leave him weak-legged and unable to sit for the rest of the day, but he's not regretting it, just clinging onto the barrels with increasing desperation to make it last, because it's mind-numbingly good.
There definitely are sounds around them, the lapping of the water against the hull, the birds outside, people talking, walking, working... And yet all Rook hears are those soft, desperate cries that Ulysse lets out. They fill his ear like honey, thick and arousing.
This is definitely not going to be the last time. If it's up to him, Rook will be back for this, frequently.
His fingers cramp, his legs shake, but he doesn't care, as long as his dick isn't giving up too soon, he's good.
After five full minutes of fast and hard, he slams against Ulysse's back, deep inside him, and stays there, panting against his neck as he holds still for a moment, drawing himself back from the edge.
There are no words, but enough is said in the way his arm wraps around Ulysse's chest and pulls him up, flush against Rook's chest. His other hand wraps around the cock bobbing eagerly between Ulysse's legs, curving happily towards his stomach. The thrusts are slower now, sweat sliding between them, Rook's mouth breathing mist on Ulysse's jaw and cheek while he pumps that cock in time of his hip surging forward. After just a brief moment, that hand from lean chest rises up to wrap around Ulysse's throat, lightly so, and then it travels up to cup the man's jaw, turning his face towards Rook. But instead of a kiss, he gets a thumb pressed in between his lips, rubbing possessively over his tongue and lips.
It's the perfect sabotage and a loud moan escaped unhindered as Ulysse's mouth falls open, eyes fluttering open as the tempo is suddenly changed, his cock leaking heavily as it's stroked. Dark eyes blink dazedly as his head is turned, panting against Rook's hand as that thumb slides into his mouth like it belongs there.
Then something seems to click and a lazy smile briefly hovers over Ulysse's face before he draws his tongue along the pad of that thumb, teeth following the slick path in a rough drag. Closing his eyes, Ulysse's lets his head drop back against Rook's shoulder, swallowing hard and panting audibly, voice occasionally slipping through to colour the breathy sounds with wanton enjoyment.
It was warm before. Now Ulysse feels as though they're burning, the running trails of sweat only providing the barest of relief in the intensity of the experience.
The teeth dragging across his roughened skin makes Rook growl somewhere deep within his chest. His cock twists and he buries it inside Ulysse with hard, driving thrusts. That digit trails down from Ulysse's mouth when he tilts his head back against Rook's shoulder, down to his throat and then to his chest, leaving a path of saliva on its wake.
The air of thick with sweat and sex and mist and it's hard to breathe but Rook can't have enough of this. There's sweat in his eyes, his trousers cling to his calves, pooling just above his boots and his wrist is numb from the stroking. But he wouldn't have it any other way.
His mouth chases after Ulysse's jaw, lapping away pearls of sweat from his throat before leaving his mark on a shoulder. Everything is hot, everything, time has lost its meaning a long time ago.
Ulysse's moans are slipping out more and more, now. His eyes are screwed shut as he pushes back into Rook's thrusts, one of his hands leaving the barrels to grip the mage's wrist at his chest, anchoring himself. His heart is hammering right up against Rook's hand as though trying to escape his chest.
"Rook," he groans, turning his head and blindly nuzzling in against the mage's temples. "I'm close, ah-"
His body's now tightening with each thrust, as if it's trying to keep Rook's cock buried deep in him. He's definitely not lying when he says he's close.
It doesn't seem to matter anymore, Ulysse is grabbing his wrist, the first time he voluntarily is touching Rook and that's all it takes. The mage turns his head with a snarled growl and claims Ulysse's mouth with his own, hard and relentless. There's nothing hesitant about that kiss, it's pure filth and possession, his, his, his, this damn pretty little princess is all his right now.
His thrusts are shorter now, but all the more deeper, as if he were trying to carve himself a place inside the other man. They're both teetering on the edge of a release, Rook's hand almost punishingly tight over Ulysse's cock.
The kiss is unexpected but so very welcome, wrenching a hoarse moan from Ulysse that's swallowed by the mage's plundering mouth. There's a small flicker of triumphant satisfaction at the back of his mind, that Rook had been brought to that edge and right on over, forfeiting their little game. Though, really, neither had won or lost, given Rook hadn't asked, and Ulysse hadn't given in.
He'll enjoy the rematch, later.
For now, the tight friction around his cock and the deep thrusts into his ass are driving him to climax. When it comes, it's nothing spectacularly loud or showy, but he feels it intensely. His body stiffens from head-to-toe, spine arching and pressing him tight to Rook's front, mouth growing slack in the kiss as his breath catches, soft, desperate little gasps puffing out with each wave of orgasm that crests in him. Spurting messily into the calloused hand at his prick, Ulysse tries to break the kiss, gasping for air as his body shakes hard in the aftermath, unable to fully relax, the grip on Rook's arm now clinging out of desperation to keep him standing.
It might not be spectacular or loud, but that seems to be Ulysse's trademark, flying under the radar for what a gem he really is. Rook notices him and he sees that release too, the desperate sounds that Ulysse makes, the way he shakes and clings to hard to Rook's arm.
He doesn't have to worry, the mage isn't going to let him fall, no, he's going to be holding Ulysse against himself in a possessive grip, reaching up with the cum-striped hand too to wrap it around Ulysse's throat, his fingers tilting the man's head when he tries to get away from the kiss.
Rook fucks him hard and relentless through those aftershocks while he chases his own completion, his whole body trembling as he slams again and again inside that tight hole. And when he finally crashes over the edge, he groans right into Ulysse's mouth, hoarse and raw, all the amusement and games stripped away.
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There's something sinfully attractive about a man with this much self-restrain but obvious signs of eventually unraveling under the nudging, those gut wrenching sounds that he makes at times, the way he looks with heat crawling on his cheeks. Might drive a mage to desperate acts eventually.
Rook grunts soft under his breath as he reaches further below that ballsack, one fingertip circling Ulysse's hole.
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"Or perhaps I like mutual... 'concessions' being made," he suggests, voice breathy and low. "You have your terms, I have mine."
And as much as he'd like to kiss and touch Rook right back, until the man actually asks him, Ulysse will keep his hands right where they are.
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Eventually one of them will give in and he's not counting it out being himself. But right now he's fine. Even if his cock has been rock hard and resting against Ulysse's thigh for a while now. If it were about just pleasure, then he might have already 'yielded' because it's such a pointless thing to be stubborn about. But it's... Well, not just about sex.
"How long will you be able to stand behind that?" he asks, voice soft and light suddenly.
Then he moves and it happens like the ocean suddenly turning the tide, like a hurricane sweeping in. His hands pull away, he steps back only to grab Ulysse by his shoulders and turns him around, strong hands pressing the man against the barrels before Rook grabs his breeches and yanks them down. He grabs a solid hold of the loose shirt at Ulysse's back, bunching it under his rough hand and presses the man by it to the barrels. Then he leans in and slips his hand between those round buttocks, fingers slick with his spit as he rubs over Ulysse's hole a few times before pressing in one finger.
"I rather like the idea of you riding my cock and having nothing to hold onto, princess," Rook teases beside his ear before he maps that exposed neck with his mouth.
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Ulysse's hands slap against the barrels as he's turned, stopping himself from smacking his head against the wood, looking back over his shoulder as Rook's pulling his trousers down. He barely has time to brace himself before that slicked finger's at his hole and pushing in.
Still he manages a quiet laugh, hands shifting to better brace himself against the barrels. "I seem to have something to hold right here."
The way his shirt's been bunched leaves his lower back exposed. Ulysse's usually very picky about the positions he takes in sex, just to avoid showing his back and the criss-cross of whip-lash scars that go all the way down to his upper thighs, marring even his buttocks. It's telling that he doesn't fight against Rook for the position he's put in. He knows it's probably because he knows Rook would have similar scars himself, but it's more than that. For as short a time as they've known each other, Ulysse knows the mage wouldn't let the scars distract him or draw any condescension, nor pity. They're simply there.
It's... surprisingly refreshing.
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Rook's mouth is hot against a ridged scar that goes all the way down from Ulysse's shoulder to his hip. His touch, his hold isn't any more gentler because of it, but there is something almost possessive about it as he mouths his way up along the white line while his finger slicks back and forth a few times before he twists it around, pressing down, deeper, seeking something, somewhere nearer Ulysse's core. Once he locates what he's looking for, he presses down, hounding that little gland that will push electric pleasure through his princess.
"Don't count on it," he says roughly. Maybe it's a promise?
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It doesn't escape his notice how Rook's mouthing at his scars, hot and slick playing over the much abused flesh. Ulysse isn't sure how to interpret it, but it doesn't feel bad... Quite the opposite, in fact.
"Why? Do you plan to bind me?" he asks archly. He suspects Rook would never chain him, though there are plenty of ways to immobilise a man than by simply shackling him.
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He doesn't, though, because he likes the way Ulysse leans onto the barrels as if he needs the support. And to be honest, he's not eager to prove a point by giving them no choice but to cling to Rook. That wouldn't be winning this game. It would be
He brings out his finger for a moment, then replaces it with two freshly slicked digits, pushing them in slow but persistent, spreading them open when he has them sunk in to the last joint.
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He even tights down on those fingers, letting Rook know exactly how tight he can get, even as the increase in pressure makes Ulysse himself shudder. It's enough to make his fingers dig into the wood, short nails threatening to draw up some splinters.
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Fuck yes, he wants to ride this hole so hard. The mere thought of it makes him feel dizzy for a moment as Ulysse's fingers tighten around his fingers, making him pause for a moment because the pressure is too much to move. He groans, the sound tight and strained, wheezing out through his nose.
"Aye, there's a thing I can promise you, princess," he murmurs against Ulysse's neck, holding him tight against the barrels as he starts to move his fingers again, fucking Ulysse with determined thrusts.
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Ulysse doesn't talk about himself, he doesn't express any preferences, he only reacts. The only thing he wanted was for Rook to ask to be kissed. It makes the mage curious. Before long it'll haunt him to know just how his princess prefers to have his cock...
His finger pauses as he leans onto Ulysse's back, his digits deep inside that tight hole. "Is that what you'd want?" he asks and there is actual genuine curiosity in his tone of voice.
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"Does it matter?"
Such consideration is rarely used in quick, most likely one-off encounters like these, after all. Oh, he's sure Rook might come sniffing around again when there's a change in weather, but he's got little to offer anyone to even want to stay.
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"Here I thought you said something about mutually beneficial-- or was it concessions?"
That fingertip inside him is dancing slowly over his prostate, rubbing circles around it, pressing and pressing again. Rook's mouth finds a spot on Ulysse's jaw, biting down on it, not all that hard but sharp enough to be felt.
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Ulysse's eyes close again, brow furrowing a bit as his mouth falls open, soft but still audible gasps forced from him as that finger keeps massaging at his prostate, contrasted harshly by the bite to his jaw. He's absently thinking he's glad he has a beard to hide the mark, because that might be just a bit too obvious a target for Kai's teasing.
... Though to be fair, there's a very good chance any of the other crew will chance upon them at any second.
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It doesn't take long before he bunches Ulysse's shirt in his tight fist again and pulls the man close to him, his other hand busy to align his cock with that stretched hole and then it's just heat and sinking deeper and deeper with his ears buzzing with busy noise of nothing at all.
"F-fuck..." he lets out a rough curse as he bottoms out, hips pressed flush against Ulysse's.
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His exhale is shaky and loud while his hands blindly search for the ropes tying the barrels together, fingers curling into them to give him something solid to hang onto. This isn't going to be an easy ride and he relishes the thought. Perhaps he should be more concerned with how clearly pleased the spirit riding him is, feeling those waves of satisfaction washing through him and only intensifying the feeling of penetration, no doubt making his aura ripple for Rook's viewing pleasure, the scent of the ocean growing with a cool breeze coming from seemingly nowhere.
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There's no pulling back from it, though, it comes and it takes when it wants, like the ocean, washing against the rocks of the shore until they're worn down to nothing.
Sex hasn't been like this for him ever since his drowning. It's been muted and sort of boring. But this here, this is vibrant and raw and he has no weapons against it.
He doesn't even notice when his hips pull back until he's driving forward with force, skin slapping against skin, echoed by the ha that erupts from his lips. Then it happens again. Only faster, harder. And keeps happening. Repeatedly, endlessly. His hands find a purchase on Ulysse's hips, pulling him back while he surges forward, driving into him hard and relentless.
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A ship is never silent, but it seems so quiet now, while the sounds of their fucking only seem to grow deafeningly loud. From the slick squelches of Rook's cock burying itself repeatedly in Ulysse's ass to the slap of skin and the thumping of the barrels as the slender body is rocked unrelentingly hard and fast into them. Rook's grunts are animalistic and loud, single-minded as he takes his pleasure from the willing body before him, contrasted to Ulysse's barely contained cries and gasps.
He can't remember the last time he was taken so roughly, but by all the seas, Ulysse's loving it. It's likely to leave him weak-legged and unable to sit for the rest of the day, but he's not regretting it, just clinging onto the barrels with increasing desperation to make it last, because it's mind-numbingly good.
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This is definitely not going to be the last time. If it's up to him, Rook will be back for this, frequently.
His fingers cramp, his legs shake, but he doesn't care, as long as his dick isn't giving up too soon, he's good.
After five full minutes of fast and hard, he slams against Ulysse's back, deep inside him, and stays there, panting against his neck as he holds still for a moment, drawing himself back from the edge.
There are no words, but enough is said in the way his arm wraps around Ulysse's chest and pulls him up, flush against Rook's chest. His other hand wraps around the cock bobbing eagerly between Ulysse's legs, curving happily towards his stomach. The thrusts are slower now, sweat sliding between them, Rook's mouth breathing mist on Ulysse's jaw and cheek while he pumps that cock in time of his hip surging forward. After just a brief moment, that hand from lean chest rises up to wrap around Ulysse's throat, lightly so, and then it travels up to cup the man's jaw, turning his face towards Rook. But instead of a kiss, he gets a thumb pressed in between his lips, rubbing possessively over his tongue and lips.
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Then something seems to click and a lazy smile briefly hovers over Ulysse's face before he draws his tongue along the pad of that thumb, teeth following the slick path in a rough drag. Closing his eyes, Ulysse's lets his head drop back against Rook's shoulder, swallowing hard and panting audibly, voice occasionally slipping through to colour the breathy sounds with wanton enjoyment.
It was warm before. Now Ulysse feels as though they're burning, the running trails of sweat only providing the barest of relief in the intensity of the experience.
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The air of thick with sweat and sex and mist and it's hard to breathe but Rook can't have enough of this. There's sweat in his eyes, his trousers cling to his calves, pooling just above his boots and his wrist is numb from the stroking. But he wouldn't have it any other way.
His mouth chases after Ulysse's jaw, lapping away pearls of sweat from his throat before leaving his mark on a shoulder. Everything is hot, everything, time has lost its meaning a long time ago.
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"Rook," he groans, turning his head and blindly nuzzling in against the mage's temples. "I'm close, ah-"
His body's now tightening with each thrust, as if it's trying to keep Rook's cock buried deep in him. He's definitely not lying when he says he's close.
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His thrusts are shorter now, but all the more deeper, as if he were trying to carve himself a place inside the other man. They're both teetering on the edge of a release, Rook's hand almost punishingly tight over Ulysse's cock.
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He'll enjoy the rematch, later.
For now, the tight friction around his cock and the deep thrusts into his ass are driving him to climax. When it comes, it's nothing spectacularly loud or showy, but he feels it intensely. His body stiffens from head-to-toe, spine arching and pressing him tight to Rook's front, mouth growing slack in the kiss as his breath catches, soft, desperate little gasps puffing out with each wave of orgasm that crests in him. Spurting messily into the calloused hand at his prick, Ulysse tries to break the kiss, gasping for air as his body shakes hard in the aftermath, unable to fully relax, the grip on Rook's arm now clinging out of desperation to keep him standing.
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He doesn't have to worry, the mage isn't going to let him fall, no, he's going to be holding Ulysse against himself in a possessive grip, reaching up with the cum-striped hand too to wrap it around Ulysse's throat, his fingers tilting the man's head when he tries to get away from the kiss.
Rook fucks him hard and relentless through those aftershocks while he chases his own completion, his whole body trembling as he slams again and again inside that tight hole. And when he finally crashes over the edge, he groans right into Ulysse's mouth, hoarse and raw, all the amusement and games stripped away.
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