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

"But I'm guessing you're not interested at the moment," comes the amused comment, hush as it is as Ulysse is stripped of his shirt and vest. He lightly tosses his hair back, the beads clicking quietly against each other, and smiles, reaching for Rook's shirt and unlacing the front. Of course, he can't take the shirt off with the bracers on, but he doesn't grab for them, only lightly brushing his fingers over the buckles of one.

"How are you liking these? Not too uncomfortable?"

Rook's hands pause for a moment to look at Ulysse's fingers unlacing the front of his shirt. The bed is right there, Ulysse's legs bumping against it. But they're not exactly in a hurry here.

Rook takes one of Ulysse's hands and pulls it up to his mouth, pressing his lips to the meaty side of it, laying little kisses on his way to the man's wrist and from there to his arm all the while looking him in the eyes.

"Do you want them back?" he asks quietly.

Ulysse's fingers twitch from the soft kisses and he finds himself smiling, shaking his head.

"Not at all. They rather suit you, actually," he answers, voice just as quiet, giving a little squeeze to Rook's wrist with his free hand before reaching up, fingers gentle as they carefully comb back the sun and ocean bleached hair. His fingers eventually reach back enough to find that little bone pin, tugging it free and letting it drop to the floor.

There's still a few beads and braids in Rook's hair to hold it back from his face, but the rest of the mop flops down to his shoulders, spilling down to his back.

He hums as a response but follows the rounding up of Ulysse's shoulder with his mouth. Then he pulls back, making some room between them so he can slowly, if surely, open the buckle around the man's wais, letting his belt drop to the floor soon after.

"Then I'm keeping them," he says simply.

The shorter man finds himself chuckling quietly at that statement, goosebumps lightly prickling over his skin in wake of that mouth running along his shoulder. He really should step back and take off his boots so he can get rid of the tight trousers, but that would mean stepping away from Rook... and that seems unfair.

Instead, he sighs with quiet pleasure and turns his head, lightly drawing his teeth along the edge of Rook's ear before settling at his earlobe, tugging on the soft flesh lightly and then nuzzling the mage's cheek and jaw, much like a cat rubbing its face over its owner's. Now that both arms are free, they loop around Rook's shoulders to pull him close again, the red-stained lips seeking his out for a long, lingering kiss.

This is... distinctly different to their previous encounters.

Ulysse can't say he's annoyed by it.

Rook snorts softly as Ulysse rubs his face on his cheek like a kitten. He might be more of a cat than he is a pirate. His fingers are slow and gentle as they unlace the fastenings of those tight pants, but he doesn't bother pushing them down yet, instead his fingers tease the waist, caressing instead of rushing through the undressing process.

The kiss lingers between their mouths, slow and thorough, Rook's fingers reaching up to thread into Ulysse's hair while they chase each other's lips.

The difference with their earlier encounters is stark and obvious, even Rook can't deny it.

But he doesn't care.

He just doesn't care.

He will punch the first person to demand him to put titles and words to this. It just is and it... is kind of perfect.

The kiss doesn't just drag on and on (as much as Ulysse enjoys those), but instead peters off into shorter, softer ones, a brief mingling of lips, gentle sucks and bites before their tongues tangle again and again. Each kiss flows into the next as naturally as breathing, waves swelling and cresting before receding and starting the cycle anew all over again.

Then Ulysse murmurs against Rook's lips as his hands trail down to those bracers again, "As much as I like seeing you in these... Best take them off for the moment, yes?"

He'd rather like to see Rook completely bared, given they have the rare luxury of time and privacy for once.

Rook finds that he likes the best the kisses that make Ulysse smile like a cat, his lips quirking at the corners ever so quickly when there is a little bit of playfulness mixed in those little nibbles on the man's mouth. There's not much reason or rhyme to it, Rook just likes seeing those brief glimmers of light in the man's eyes.

The bracers are for protection and in a situation like this, Rook should feel attached to them. But he wordlessly starts to unbuckle the fastenings when Ulysse asks him. He wants both of them naked, without anything between them.

When he has his wrists bare, he wets a corner of his shirt sleeve in his mouth before wiping away the rouse from Ulysse's face. The kohl is around his eyes, so it stays, but the redness not there for Rook, it never was.

While Ulysse is confused at first, on realising that the rouge is being wiped away, those red lips smile and he waits until the shirt is removed from them before speaking up.

"Were they that offensive to you?"

"No," Rook replies, then shrugs mildly as he rubs his thumb over cleaned up cheek. "I just like you more like this."

It's not easy to say, there's awkwardness about him.

"Maybe if you'd put them on for me..." The idea that Ulysse would doll himself up for him is intoxicating to be honest.

The admission just endears Rook further to Ulysse, making his little smile grow and linger longer than most.

"Hmm... That could be arranged," he murmurs, turning his head to kiss the pad of Rook's thumb, smiling against it while his eyes stay focused on the mage's face.

He'll definitely keep it in mind, especially if Rook's going to enjoy it quite so much.

But for now, he reaches between them to help undo the man's belt and trousers.

Not that Rook has counted how long those flashes of smiles last but this one was definitely longer and something about his answer made Ulysse quite... happy? Rook holds that gaze, the look in his one good eye milder than it tends to be, crinkles appear at the corners of his eyes and they're not there because of turbulent water but something completely else.

He doesn't say anything, but it makes him flash a rare smile as he brushes the thumb over those soft lips.

He doesn't know how long he would have just stood there. But Ulysse breaks the spell by unfastening his belt and pants. Rook takes a moment to yank up his shirt and pulling it over his head and then joins the growing pile of discarded garments on the floor.

Then he moves forward, wrapping one arm around Ulysse's waist as he pushes the man back and onto the bed, supporting him with a hand behind his back. Rook pulls up when he has Ulysse laid out on the bed and starts pulling off his boots, laying the bared foot onto his own chest when it's been undressed.

It's not completely unusual for some men to be so mindful in manhandling Ulysse in bed, but he'd never imagined the coarse mage might be one of them. He lies back comfortably, tucking an arm under his head while his toes lightly flex against Rook's chest, watching the man with warm eyes that might be just a little bit fond of him.

With the boots gone, he helps in pushing down his trousers, faint bruises lingering on his hips now visible from when Rook had pinned him for their quick rut in the alley. He doesn't bother sitting up to get the pants off down his legs, letting Rook deal with those. Instead, he keeps his eyes on the mage's face as he lets his hand trail down the center of his chest, heading lower and lower until his fingers are lightly teasing right at the edges of his pubic area, drawing attention to how his cock is definitely starting to take interest in the proceedings.

Rook pushes Ulysse's legs over his shoulder after pulling his pants off of him completely then standing beside the bed, he unlaces his own pants. He toes off his boots and shoves down his pants, shimmying out of them while he presses absentminded kisses to Ulysse's calves. His gaze never leaves the man's eyes but he notices that hand and its downward direction.

He stays there, quietly just watching Ulysse for a moment, his hands tracing the outlines of the man's legs, his mouth pressing soft kisses here and there. He's never seen Ulysse completely naked like this, dressed in just his jewelry and the marks Rook left on his skin.

But finally, the desire to feel him closer becomes too much and he moves to sit on the edge of the bed and from there to lay down beside Ulysse. He props himself up on one elbow while his other hand tilts Ulysse's face up, then sweeps down along his front in a slow caress as he leans in for a kiss.

It's sweet. A soft exploration of each other's bodies, unhurried and gentle, Ulysse's back arching to press his front against that stroking hand while he leans into the kiss with a soft sigh. He pushes up on his arm as well, turning sideways and cupping Rook's cheek as he lines their bodies up together. Their legs loosely tangle and it's warm and gentle in a way that Ulysse has rarely, if ever, had the opportunity to experience.

Rook pushes his knee between Ulysse's legs when he turns, his hand sliding over the man's hip to pull him closer until there's no air between them, just warm skin, warm and subtle, eager to touch and feel.

They might kiss every now and then, but there are moments in between where only the tips of their noses touch, Ulysse's brow rests against Rook's chin, the mage presses his lips to that perfect hairline.

Sex, or even foreplay, has never been like this to the mage. It's a completely new and fascinating thing for him.

It's not completely new to Ulysse, but it's never been quite this... comfortable and satisfying. Even if he's growing harder, he honestly does feel that if they did nothing more than this, just touching each other lightly and sharing lingering kisses and learning each other's bodies... he'd be perfectly fine with that. Better than fine, he'd be content with that.

Utterly bizarre.

He huffs a soft chuckle and lightly shakes his head, brushing their noses together. "I still think you might've enchanted me, somehow," he murmurs, voice intimately quiet.

Graceful fingers lightly stroke over the curve of Rook's shoulder, following it in a sweeping arc down to his clavicle and the top of his chest. Ulysse marvels at the heat radiating off the man, relishing in it and how it's such a comforting reminder that the mage is alive. Ducking his head, he noses along Rook's throat and over those scars, remembering the cold dread that had gone through him on seeing the collar placed over them.

As if to remove the memory of that iron, Ulysse's lips leave warm, open-mouthed kisses all over the scars. No sucking or licking or biting, just gentle, warm pressure, learning the texture of Rook's scars contrasting with the patches of unscarred skin, faintly tasting the tang of salt and traces of blood as they linger over Ulysse's lips.

Rook tilts his head to the side to give Ulysse an easier access to his neck. He might not cover his scars with anything, but he's never liked it when someone pays attention to them. Some have tried along the years. But there's something different about Ulysse and the way he acknowledges the marks. Not in the way he does it, but in the way they both understand the meaning and weight behind those scars. It's not just about being sympathetic.

And there's been people in his life before who have shared those experiences, but Rook tends to keep people at arm's length, he doesn't offer any glimpses to his vulnerable heart.

His hand slides to Ulysse's neck, tracing the outline of his body as it goes, his fingers threading along the dark locks, only to brush them down to the man's back. Usually he would have gripped them tight and made Ulysse face him for kisses, or pushed him down. Now, he's just exploring, leaning in to press warm, open mouthed kisses to the round slope of his shoulder, down to his chest, amused by how the dark body hair sticks to his tongue as he swipes the flat of his tongue against one eagerly perked nipple.

"Maybe I have," he says in an equally quieted voice that still comes out sounding rough around the edges. "Sometimes I think I must have." Why else would Ulysse keep doing this. He surely could find someone better, someone less of an asshole, someone prettier.

There's a soft, thoughtful hum from somewhere above Rook's head as he takes his kisses down Ulysse's chest. Nuzzling the top of the mage's head, Ulysse murmurs, "I supposed you'd better take responsibility, then."

His arms loosely wrap around the mage's neck and head, one of his hands shifting to trail blunt fingernails lightly along the top few knobs of his spine. It's as natural as breathing, then, to shift their hips so Ulysse can press his thigh up between Rook's legs while his cock rests warmly against the mage's hip, drawing a low, pleased noise from deep in Ulysse's throat.

"What do you think I'm doing?" Rook asks him while he lifts his head to nose up along Ulysse's throat, mouthing a bit of his jaw on his way to his lips.

He straightens when Ulysse presses against him, his arm wrapping around the man's waist to pull him close, their legs threaded along each other and hips pressed tight against one another.

His lips curve a little as they press against Ulysse's, shivering as those nails drag down along his back.

That deliberate press of their hips makes Ulysse's lips fall open on a soft gasp, gusting against Rook's cheek. Even as his nails continue to play along the mage's back, Ulysse shifts his free hand down to Rook's hip, slipping around to grasp his rear, gently pulling him tighter into those rocking motions of their cocks against each other.

"... Indulging?" he finally answers, smiling into the kiss.

Rook is hard too, but he ignores his own erection for now, making sure to angle his hips in a way that makes those soft gasps spill from Ulysse's lips, his pelvis and coarse pubic hair dragging along the man's dick as their hips come together.

Indulgence isn't exactly the word he would have picked for what they're doing, but he doesn't know what about it is not correct.

He slides his arm beneath Ulysse's neck and curves his arm around him, his hand coming to rest on his jaw, his fingers gently tucking a bit of hair behind Ulysse's ear while his other hand trails down to the man's chest, rubbing his perky nipple under his thumb while they kiss, and kiss, and kiss deeper, his tongue licking slowly and relentlessly into Ulysse's mouth.

Ulysse shivers and eagerly writhes against Rook, his body a warm, slowly shifting presence as he leans into those kisses and touches. Each time his cock or nipple are teased at, he gasps audibly against the mage's lips, but he can't really voice them much louder when Rook seems so intent on stealing the breath from him.

Eventually he breaks away from the kiss, panting quietly and dipping his chin, brow brushing against Rook's nose as he catches his breath. He keeps his eyes closed because he knows if he opens them, he won't be able to control himself with how Rook's watching him. Tanned fingers squeeze at the mage's hip to just grounding himself in that moment.

Ulysse looks almost peaceful with his eyes closed like that. Peaceful and so beautiful, the kohl accenting his already dark-lined eyes, lashes fluttering against his golden skin as he ruts forward in the slow swaying rhythm of their hips.

Rook can't look away, and he doesn't want to, he wants to see this from start to finish.

He lets his hand from Ulysse's chest slide lower, brushing over the man's hips to slide under his thigh and pulls it up against his own side. His fingers trace slowly and gently the underside of the man's thigh all the way to his arse, finding the crack and sliding along it just as tenderly, fingertips dancing over Ulysse's asshole. His mouth presses little kisses to those dark brows, trailing his mouth further south, catching cheek and nose before their faces are pressed together, breathing the same air.

That intimate touch is what encourages Ulysse to open his eyes, glancing up at Rook's face as he takes a breath and then slides his leg up over the mage's thigh, spreading himself to press better against those fingers. He sighs against Rook's lips, lightly drawing his teeth along them before smiling.

"Is there something on my face?"

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