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

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?"

"Yeah," Rook murmurs back, the skin around his eyes crinkling with crowfeet as he gives into a brief flash of a smile.

Ulysse is held in his arms, close to his chest, rocking against his hips, securely right where he should be - Rook thinks he should probably want more, but strangely he's so very content right now, just like this.

He brings up his fingers to wet them in his own mouth before he brings them down and slides one fingertip inside Ulysse, nothing but teasing the rim, practically licking it open with his fingertips.

"A smile," he whispers beside Ulysse's ear.

He might twitch away from the ticklish whispering but he doesn't go that far and is a bit too caught on that teasing, barely-there penetration that draws a faint frown to his brow because it could be more, it could be less. Ulysse doesn't push or pull, though. He stays where he is, breath picking up a bit but otherwise remaining warm and pliant wrapped up in Rook, watching the mage's face with a warm gaze as he's played with.

"You're the last person I ever expected to comment on my smile," he retorts, that same little smile flashing across his lips before he pushes in close again to steal another kiss, hips only pressing back with the tiniest bit of pressure to invite more of that finger into him.

"It's a pretty smile," Rook replies with a look that speaks of amusement but not without a whole lot of fondness. "Yours is brief and pale most of the time."

Listen, he has paid attention. It's obvious.

Rook is in no hurry with that finger. Eventually he knows he's going to seat himself inside that hole but it's not going to happen any time soon. They have time, the whole night, just for each other. He pushes it a little bit deeper, though, just to accommodate what Ulysse obviously wants. He has a feeling Ulysse has grown used to taking it without anyone really paying attention to him. Rook has been guilty of this as well.

So, he slowly circles the sensitive rim with his fingertips, rubs it and plays with it until it softens further and further under his touch. Eventually he'll replace his groin with his hand to finish this beautiful man off but for now, they're just slowly edging towards the release and Rook is still not in any kind of hurry. His fingertips aimless as they tilt Ulysse's chin up and presses warm little kisses on his lips.

"Not tonight," he says, though, murmurs the words against Ulysse's mouth.

This kind of mindful, slow dragging out of the foreplay is so unnatural in their dynamic, but it's also incredibly novel and sweet that Ulysse can't imagine putting a stop to it. He also somehow can't imagine it coming from anyone except Rook, even when the mage has been more prone to shoving him against the nearest hard surface to shove his bottoms down to bottom-out in a hard rut. Maybe it's because of the kisses they'd shared in Grey's cabin, or the way Rook had stared at him after the slavers were dispatched, as if Ulysse were the most precious, dear thing he'd ever seen in the world.

It warms him as much as it tears down his defenses. It leaves Ulysse trembling in Rook's arms, soft gasps gusting against those kisses as thin fingers tease and probe at his ass. It makes his answering laugh weak and airy and his voice soft as he retorts, "Is that so? You've been watching my face that closely, hm?"

"What else was I supposed to watch when we were at the sea?" Rook asks a bit teasingly, his snort an airy and amused thing. "You can only stare at the sea for so long." Or the other sailors.

But he doesn't even try to deny the fact that he has been looking.

There's something awfully arresting in the way Ulysse gives into him, yielding to the gentle, patient touch. He's not pushing back like he usually is, but trembles in Rook's arms and wantonly rubs himself against Rook.

"Besides," he says because he likes the idea of surprising Ulysse, the idea of keeping him soft and open like this. "Who wouldn't want to look at your pretty face?" He hums, a little distracted as he slips two fingers easily into Ulysse and lazily starts to fuck him with him. "This golden skin," he rasps out in a whisper, the back of his fingers dragging across Ulysse's cheek. "And your full mouth, but not least of all those damn eyes..."

Those eyes in question go wide with shock, even as his cheeks go hot from the unexpected praise. But he's soon distracted by those fingers as they work him open, making him shudder as he turns his head into Rook's hand that's by his face. Pearly white teeth lightly dig into the meat of the mage's hand as Ulysse catches his breath, eyes briefly squeezing shut as he makes himself settle again.

No sense in getting too worked up too fast.

Then he glances back up at Rook and manages a little smirk, drawing his tongue over the mage's fingers. "I thought you would've been more focused on my rear."

"You would think that, wouldn't you?" Rook says with a soft snort. Ulysse obviously knows how pretty he is and how easily people are interested in his rear in particular. But he obviously doesn't seem to think there's much else that would be interesting in him.

Rook isn't the type of person who would make it his business to convince anyone otherwise. But he considers it for a moment, he truly does, his eyes narrowing as he eyes Ulysse quietly for a moment.

Then he lets it go and drags his hand away from Ulysse's cheek, leaving a wet trail of saliva on his skin as he worms that hand between them, spreading whatever is left of that slick on his fingers onto Ulysse's cock as he grips it within his fingers.

"I am quite fond of your rear," he practically purrs as he hooks those fingers inside Ulysse and pinpoints his prostate without any trouble. "But I like the way you sound much more," he admits as he rubs his fingers rhythmically against that swollen little gland and meets the beat with his hand stroking Ulysse at the same leisure pace.

Ulysse stiffens as Rook gets more 'aggressive' with his attack, a soft gasp slipping past his lips as his eyes flicker shut again. As always, he's not especially loud, but the breathy sighs and shivers going down his body speak volumes, and he even bites his lower lip, fingers settling at Rook's nape to give an encouraging squeeze.

"That," he begins, his voice a low, artlessly seductive purr as his eyes grow hooded, full of molten heat as he locks them with Rook's. "Would be because you just love to get under my skin."

Don't think he hasn't noticed it, Rook.

Rook honestly doesn't understand how Ulysse thinks his ass is his most dangerous weapon. Because there's just no way he's going to look away form those damn eyes when they stare at him like that. It should be terrifying just how tight the grip is that Ulysse has on him, but he doesn't seem to care. This man, the thing inside him owns him already, but it doesn't stop there...

"Literally speaking..." he murmurs as his body is washed from toe to the top of his head with goose bumps just from the way Ulysse sounds, his voice low and rumbling, soft like the purr of a jaguar.

"Are you going to come for me?" he asks as he tightens his grip a little, picking up the pace just enough to drive Ulysse a little mad over it, bring him right to the edge.

It's tempting to do just that. Rook's hands are both rough but careful, knowing just how much pressure to apply to his cock to make Ulysse dance, and those fingers are too sure and knowing as they fuck him. But he's a man of considerable control, and he's already had the one orgasm for the night to help in his staying power, so he shifts and shakes his head briefly, wetting his lips as he lightly draws his nails down Rook's nape to the top of his spine, those dark eyes not budging an inch even if they might narrow with concentration.

"Eventually, yes. But not until you get inside me," he answers, impressing himself with how steady he manages to keep his voice.

"Uh huh," Rook hums as he smiles briefly against Ulysse's lips. "Are you sure about that?"

He pushes his weight forward, tipping them both until he is firmly lodged between Ulysse's legs. He pulls both of his hands up to smooth them over Ulysse's sides, and all the way down to his hips, rocking against him a few times, their cocks sliding against one another while he kisses the man deeply. There's still a faint taste of blood between their lips but it's not enough to disguise the way Ulysse tastes himself. It punches a shudder through Rook before he slides his mouth down to Ulysse's neck and further down to his chest and there to his stomach, mouthing every quivering muscle on his way down.

He looks up as he picks one of Ulysse's thighs up and slides it over his shoulder, his mouth tracing the sensitive insides on his way down.

There's such clear, filthy intent to Rook's movements that makes Ulysse shudder with quiet anticipation, but he holds himself back even as his thigh shivers under the hot mouth. He even manages a small smile, huffing quietly, "Tease."

He reaches down, brushing his fingers over Rook's knuckles, but doesn't stop the man in any way. There's a very good chance he'll be eating his words and finishing a bit sooner than he'd hoped. What a way to lose, though...

"I see you're intent on wearing me out," he gently accuses, fingers shifting over to stroke over Rook's cheek and jaw.

"I'll give you time before we go again," Rook promises generously as he tilts his head into that stroking hand, giving himself a moment right now to kiss Ulysse's wrist just because he wants to.

But eventually he bows his head low again, following that shudder right to the crease of Ulysse's leg, where his thigh meets his groin. He flattens his tongue against that musky smelling hollow and licks his way up, dragging his tongue across some pubes and finally to Ulysse's cock that is resting heavy against his stomach.

It's not the first time Rook is giving head. But it's definitely something of a novel thing. He doesn't do this. He doesn't go down on anyone. Except he's doing exactly that.

Ulysse feels different against his tongue than he does against his fingers, the sensation of dragging his mouth across that hard cock is an interesting one and definitely the salty taste at the very top where he presses his mouth to, his tongue slithering against the slit at the top to lap all of that curious taste into his mouth with a growl.

That growl drags out something visceral from Ulysse's gut, his teeth ending up digging into his lower lip as his nostrils flare on a long, hard exhale as his cock's tongued at. His hand settles over Rook's head, stroking his hair with slightly trembling fingers, the motion helping to ground himself.

It's ridiculous how close he suddenly feels to orgasm now that Rook's between his legs. The mage is clearly not one to normally take this position, willingly, and while he's also obviously not a stranger to going down on a man, there's a certain unpracticed roughness to his movements that says it all, and that somehow just makes it that much more intense for Ulysse. That Rook is doing something he normally doesn't, and is apparently enjoying it to some extent.

"Rook," he murmurs, eyes growing more hooded as he stares down at the mage's face, absently shifting his free arm back to pillow and prop up his head. This isn't a sight he wants to forget any time soon, after all.

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