perhapstomorrow | The bell has been raised from its watery grave...

It's hard not to soften a bit at that, silencing Ulysse's protests for the moment as he stares at Rook's face.

"... You won't like what you see," he comments softly. "Will you be able to contain yourself if you something that might anger you?"

The kisses they shared have taken the edge off of Rook's anger, and he's much calmer now, strangely more clear headed too. He shakes his head a little, his forehead pressed against Ulysse's and rubbing against his gently.

"Aye, I've seen so much shit I don't like and it hasn't driven me to act like an idiot before," he says quietly while his thumbs brush over Ulysse's cheeks.

Those light touches will be the death of him, along with Rook's voice.

The thumbs stroking over his cheeks make his lashes flutter and Ulysse finds himself sighing softly.

"Very well."

He nods slightly, nose lightly pressed to one side of Rook's, lips almost touching. His hands slip around to cup Rook's cheeks, thumbs rasping over the man's stubble, and he sighs again, tilting his head to brush a soft kiss to one side of Rook's lips. A dangerous move, admittedly, given how it's been so easy to get drawn into each other through their kisses.

That soft kiss is not enough for Rook, definitely. Now that they've managed to clear away the conflict between them he wants to do nothing more than lift Ulysse off his feet and carry him to the table and fuck him until he makes those soft sounds of pleasure again.

But they have things to do.

So, instead he contents himself with one last head-spinning kiss, claiming the man's lips with a low groan, his hands sliding down to grab Ulysse by his waist to pull him flush against his own chest. Between deep, breathless kisses he mutters: "We need to go. Figure out how many there are and how to, you know--" That's clearly enough of information and more importantly, he needs to kiss that soft, flush mouth again. To see if he can make it any more redder by sucking on Ulysse's lips.

Ulysse doesn't even attempt to answer, too busy being kissed and sighing quietly into them at the sensation. The slender body leans in, pressing against Rook eagerly, his hands remaining at the mage's cheeks, shivering each time his lips are sucked at.

Rook's not wrong. There's plenty to plan out for the night, to scout out the slavers, find where in town they're most likely to spend the night. Ulysse needs to see if his kohl and rouge are still good to use to doll himself up, air out those snug, soft breeches that accentuate his round ass...

But in spite of all that needs doing, Ulysse finds himself more focused on chasing after Rook's lips to prolong the kisses for as long as possible.

Apparently neither of them is very good at breaking away from the kisses that are more than a little heady and addicting. Rook lets himself go for a while, playing a game of which part of Ulysse's mouth makes him shiver the most when it's nipped and sucked at.

Finally he wrenches his mouth away and grins wolfishly against Ulysse's ear. "We'll do this quickly," he says, it's more of a question. They'll make haste about it and then have time to ruin each other properly at before the sun comes up.

"I want to be inside you tonight," he rasps out in a whisper.

A faint quiver goes through Ulysse's frame and his eyes briefly close at that comment, breath catching sharply at the thought. That quick little smile flashes across his lips and he shakes his head, giving Rook an amused (if heated) look.

"Then you'd better be especially careful so things go smoothly, no?"

Laughing, rook leans in to press his mouth to the sensitive spot under Ulysse's ear while his hands sneak down to the man's arse, pulling him up while he squeezes it.

"Same goes for you, princess."

There's delight and thrill in the fact that Ulysse is just as eager as he is to get that moment later...

With a little huff of amusement, Ulysse shakes his head, smiling despite how he feels himself shiver from that deliberate kiss behind his ear.

"I suppose we'll need to get a room at the inn. Or stay on the beach."

Otherwise the crew might complain at the noise, unless they go into the cargo-hold for their fucking.

"An actual bed wouldn't sound that bad," Rook comments lightly, already imagining all the things they can do in that bed.

He pulls back then, reaching up to finger one of the golden baubles in Ulysse's hair as he looks at the man with half lidded eyes, heat simmering in his one good eye.

"Shall we get to it then?"

"I suppose we should..."

And it's a fair amount of ground to cover. They have to track down their crew to warn them and make sure Midnight and Marco are both out of harm's way, and then to watch the slavers as they conduct their business in the little town.

Once the sun begins to set, they see the slavers head towards the local taverns, leaving only a couple of men to guard the brig at the dockside. The fishers and sailors have cleared off for the evening themselves, not wanting to linger around the unsavory strangers longer than they have to.

Ulysse excuses himself to their ship for short while, going through his things and taking the time by candle light to line his eyes with kohl and adding a hint of rouge to his lips, deliberately biting and sucking on them to make them swell. His clothes are traded for finer, sleeker pieces that leave little to the imagination, a gold-beaded belt and dark red sash around his waist accentuating how slim his hips are, draping over the contours of his hips and ass. Delicate jewelry adorns his throat and wrists, his hair undone artfully to frame his face.

Hopefully it's dark enough that Rook won't notice how much like a painted whore Ulysse has made himself to be when he returns to the deck, because he's honestly not sure the man would find it attractive or plain ridiculous. It's worked in the past to make slavers lower their guard, though.

Rook spends the time Ulysse paints himself up by sitting at the deck of their ship and watching the guards come and go on the brig. His hair that has a few wooden beads here and there is braided from the sides to keep it from dropping to his face. It's pinned up with a bone of a fish, a loose knot at the back of his head. He still wears the bracers Ulysse gave him and it's likely he's never going to take them off unless the other man demands the gift be returned. They fit well over the rolled sleeves of his blue shirt. Over his sash he has tied a leather belt, wide enough to cover most of his midriff, fitted to his form and rocking a few hardy metal rings that he's going to use to hook a few tools in. He's going to enter the brig through water and climb. That way he can free the slaves before the guards on the docks will notice him.

When he meets Ulysse on the docks, he pauses. There's no one but them and Noel standing guard at the end of the dock, and the moon and the lights of the shore are quite enough to give Rook a good look at that painted face and those clothes that he's never seen on Ulysse before.

At first one of the corners of his mouth twists up, then the flash of a smile is gone when he remembers where Ulysse is going like that.

His hand reaches up, grabbing Ulysse's belt and drags the man close. "I can see what you were thinking," he says, voice low and dangerous. "I do not like it."

Ulysse gives him a beady little stare, letting himself be pulled in. The expression is only emphasized with the kohl lining his eyes, making them seem larger and more angular, demanding whoever looks at Ulysse's face be drawn into them whether they like it or not. Then he's just responding quietly, "I did warn you. You said you could and would control yourself."

Rook's jaw tightens as he stares at Ulysse. He had promised this. And while he generally isn't against breaking his promises, somehow it seems like a good idea to keep every last one to Ulysse. In Rook's mind he is like the ocean, not exactly forgiving when he's not pleased.

He fingers the thin fabric of Ulysse's shirt and then lets him go with a growl that is both angry and frustrated.

"There's only one guard at the dock," he says sharply while clipping on his tools onto his belt. "Keep him occupied." Then he slips off the blanks and right into the water, as quietly as a ghost and disappears completely into the darkness as he dives.

Watching the ripples fade from the waters for a moment, Ulysse calmly smooths his shirt down from where Rook had grabbed him and then heads for his target.

It doesn't take long to flirt his way into the pirate's good graces. While not all of them are interested in men, months of being at sea without a single pretty face in sight can make some desperate enough to be swayed by just the right makeup, the right hair, the right clothes. Once Ulysse has the man's interest, the pirate's convinced to take the dolled up man back to the schooner where a couple more of the pirates are on duty.

Along the way, the pirate calls out to his mates, getting the attention of the two that had been onboard the brig to get them to climb down the ropes connecting the schooner to its side.

Rook calls upon a little bit of magic as he swims, making his breath last until the brig. He doesn't want to go all the way and change his ability to breathe under water. It would require some adjustments to be made once he's breathing air again. Once he's at the ship, he grabs a hooked tool from his belt and starts climbing. He takes some time to do a little bit of research on the way, pressing his ear to the hull of the ship and leading an echo from the water into it. It gives him an idea what's inside and how it's situated. Usually these ships aren't completely magic resistant, they enchant the chains and the guards, but that requires constant magical upkeep and they get lazy when there's no push back.

When he gets to the deck, it's suspiciously empty. He directs an annoyed look down at the docks and doesn't see Ulysse anywhere. The dickweed has taken matters into his own hands. This more than annoys Rook because anything could happen before he gets there and he really doesn't like where that anything could lead. It's not so much the fact that he doesn't like Ulysse touched by others - which he doesn't - but it's also the fact that he doesn't want the man hurt. And hurt he will even if he went into that bullshit willingly.

He moves fast then, diving under the deck and going straight for the slaves. He doesn't even think about anything else but locates them at the below in the cargo hold and finds the man who stands up first. This will be the person who leads their own rebellion. He talks with the man for a few moments, making sure he's not going to abandon the rest when Rook leaves him at it, all the while breaking the bond on his strains. It's a slow work because he can't use magic, he'll have to do it by hand. But he brought tools for it. They can't quite pride open the chains around their wrists and ankles, but they manage to yank up the chain that links them to each other. They're still unable to cast magic and that's a problem. So, when they have the whole group moving to save themselves, prying up the chains, Rook focuses on the man he named as a leader the moment he stood up. He has to muddle through some magic that will break the bond on the man's shackles. It takes time and concentration that he doesn't have.

Damnit Ulysse.

But they will need someone who can steer them out of the storms once they leave the harbour. And later to learn how to break the bonds of the rest of their shackles. Rook has to put his mind to it twice before he manages to crack the spell open. He doubts the mage hunter who cast the spell will notice one of their work going asunder but he warns the slaved mages to keep this at minimum for the rest of the night because he doesn't want to warn these assholes ahead of time what's coming. He tells the man to keep their work silent for now, go and get the ship ready, he says. But don't raise the sails yet. An hour, he says, that should be enough. By then he and Ulysse have taken care of the guards and dismantled the schooner.

Once that's done, then he's running, feeding juuust a little bit of magic through the bracers on his wrists to locate Ulysse. Down along the robes, silently on the deck of the schooner, finding a nasty looking hooked knife on both hands and onward...

Rook needn't have worried.

Shortly after he's boarded the schooner, Ulysse is climbing back up out the hatch, looking mostly unruffled. The rouge on his lips has been smeared a bit, his hair is a bit messed, and he needs to adjust his shirt, but otherwise he seems unharmed.

His face though... is cold. Almost statue-esque and otherworldly in how still it is. The expression shifts and warms a bit on seeing Rook, at least, and Ulysse asks softly, "Did you free them?"

Cold and distant, that's exactly what Rook was afraid of. The knives are on one hand while he reaches for Ulysse with the other, patting over him, looking for injuries and upon finding none, he yanks the man close, kissing his forehead.

"What happened? You were supposed to just distract the one at the docks." Also where are the men?

Ulysse might smile but the expression is brittle and quick to vanish. He then shrugs, looking away. "I never said I would only take care of the one at the docks."

He doesn't say where the pirates are, now, because there's no point. "They won't be bothering anyone. Ready to go to the tavern?"

"You--" Rook sighs. There's frustrated anger in his eyes as he stares at Ulysse. "Are you planning to do the rest of this thing like this? Where you let me believe one thing while you do another? Because let me tell you right now.... Don't do that."

His expression is tight and careful.

"I told you I would distract and take care of the pirates," Ulysse retorts, voice just a tad flat, now. "Which is exactly what I did. I'm not letting a single one of their crewmen leave with their lives, tonight."

"I don't want them to leave with their lives," Rook spits out. "But I want you to leave with yours."

There's actual anger and fear now in his tone. Frustration a warm memory, this is real now.

"I mean it," he hisses, his one good eye glaring daggers at Ulysse. "I need to know you won't pull this shit at the tavern. I will clobber you right here and right now and tie you up and go take care of it by myself."

He's glancing towards the schooner's cabin at the back. They're all dead, aren't they? Something about that makes him shiver a little. This man he's holding here is dangerous. Very much so. But so are the people at the tavern. All of them are dangerous.

"Can I trust you?" he asks finally.

Ulysse just continues to meet Rook's glare, refusing to be cowed by it as he answers, "That's entirely up to you. I'm aware of the risks and know how to manage them."

Then his eyes narrow and his voice drops to a low murmur that could almost be seen as intimate, if it weren't for the undercurrent of danger lingering in the air.

"Just try raising your hand to me. Get the ropes. I dare you."

Infuriating. This man is just...

Rook has no word for it. But oh, it gets under his skin.

Usually it takes something drastic to get him so mad that his magic is swayed by it. He is a steady thing, on his own course, like a moon orbiting a planet. But there's something about this man that just ruins him.

The ocean roars into his call, wind picks up, gusting over the deck while a massive wave makes the ship shift restlessly. Rook is wet all over, but soon will Ulysse be as well because the small schooner is rushed and slammed against the docks, waves washing over the deck as if they were on deeper waters.

"I said," Rook grits out between his teeth, his arm tightening around Ulysse's waist. "Can I trust you? Because if I can't, what is the point of us going there together? You asked me time and time again if I will behave. What about you? Will you behave and not do something stupid?"

His jaw is tight and eyes narrowed, his whole body tense as he stares at Ulysse and demands answers.

Getting soaked is an unwelcome sensation at the moment, but Ulysse doesn't let himself be taken aback by it, only lifting his chin as he squarely stares into Rook's eyes. That now-familiar irritation from the afternoon in Grey's cabin is starting to rear it's head again, and Ulysse is only doubly annoyed at how easily Grey's working his hooks under his skin.

"I've yet to do anything stupid tonight. I was in control of the situation."

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