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

Ulysse's eyes look almost as though he's ready to doze off from how heavy his lashes have gotten, but the soft moan that slips past his lips makes it evident that's not something he's in danger of actually doing. His spine arches a bit, canting his hips as Rook's hands direct.

There's definitely a sort of relaxed, even indulgent air to Ulysse in the moment. He doesn't preen or make himself look pretty as Rook keeps toying with him, but there's that liquid grace to how he writhes over the bedding, jewelry glinting in the dim candlelight as his skin turns to burnished bronze as it gleams with the gathering sweat.

His hand settles over Rook's at his hip, lightly grasping the mage's scarred wrist and giving it a gentle squeeze as he lets out another low moan, gradually easing up and letting himself enjoy getting sucked off. It's probably a bit telling that he's finding himself enjoying it even more just because he knows Rook's not the sort to go down on anyone. He knows he's already leaking heavily with each delicious suck to his cock, but there's only so much self-control he can have, and it's clearly being worn away as he finds himself letting out another airy, strangled noise from deep in his throat.

There are all those sounds that Rook wanted to hear. He can't quite keep his eyes closed as he mouths Ulysse's cock, but keeps glancing up at the man at every soft moan that he lets out. Those sounds make sure that Rook himself is rock hard against the sheets, rocking his hips into the mattress every now and then.

He shifts his hand on Ulysse's hip, lacing their fingers together as he drops them onto the sheets, squeezing those narrow fingers between his own. He had thought he would put his fingers back in Ulysse eventually but now he's reconsidering it with how much the man is enjoying just having his cock sucked. Rook has a feeling he mostly is the one sucking the cock...

Instead he brings his hand to the dick buried deep in his mouth and covers the rest of the length with his calloused fingers, stroking the rest of him while his mouth is busy sucking him off. He pulls up for a little bit of air at some point and to close his jaw that's getting tired of the unusually wide position its been in. He watches Ulysse with one very keen eye as his hand pumps his wet cock. Rook lays a few kisses to his hips and stomach, sweet and wet, before he goes back to it, tongue swirling around the head of Ulysse's cock before he takes it further in, tracing veins and teasing the ridge around he plump head.

He's developing a thing for this, quick... (Mostly because of how Ulysse looks and sounds, though. He isn't about to get on his knees for anyone else.)

There's a moment when Rook's pulled off his cock that Ulysse is tempted to tell the mage to stop, to come back up and kiss him so they can move along to something both of them will enjoy equally, but Rook seems intent on not giving him the option. Those tender kisses over his stomach make his abdomen quiver, goosebumps breaking out briefly as he watches Rook's face, his own cheeks feeling unbearably warm while his mouth can't quite seem to close any more with how he's left breathing through it, hips absently rocking up in time with the stroking hand around his prick.

As the tip is sucked past those thin lips again, Ulysse's eyes flutter closed and his chin dips to his chest with a helpless little noise. A faint frown mars his brow as he concentrates on not thrusting up into that slick heat, his balls already feeling tight and heavy and it would be so damn easy to just...

"I'm close," he warns quietly, fingers flexing around Rook's and tangling their hands in the bedding.

There's barely a hum from the mage as he glances up at Ulysse, his one good eye narrowing as he takes in the sight of Ulysse on the verge of tipping over the ledge. Damn but the man is pretty, there's nothing quite like it. The temptation to just crawl over him and fuck him to the mattress is right there, riding heavy on his shoulders that strain under the weight of it.

But if Rook is something, he is stubborn and he wants to see this through exactly like it is.

There's curiosity in the way he presses his tongue again to the slit at the top of Ulysse's cock, lapping away the salt. He's never swallowed, been sure not to be forced to do that. Yet, here he is, wanting it, curious for the taste of it.

He seals his lips around the head of Ulysse's cock, his tongue curiously rounding the ridge and playing with it. Then he abandons his own curiosities and settles to suck, cheeks hollowing, his gaze keen on Ulysse's face as his hand keeps moving up and down, slick with his own spit. Come on, that gaze says.

Helpless against that demanding gaze, Ulysse's eyes squeeze shut and the heat surges right through him. He finds himself arching back against the bed with a strangled gasp, muscles tensing sharply as his climax is literally sucked right out of him, fingers tight around Rook's as he crests. Even in his moment of total abandonment, he's careful not to thrust up.

All the energy leaves him in a rush and Ulysse is left in a shuddering heap over the covers, chest heaving as he gasps for air, black lashes fluttering over flushed cheeks as he tries in vain to gather himself.

It's a show and then some. Rook finds himself groaning with Ulysse as the man spills into his mouth. The taste of it is salty and bitter, the texture weirdly thick on his tongue but not bad at all. It coats his mouth in a way that he can't quite describe and while it might have been very unpleasant if he hadn't chosen this himself, he finds it quite fascinating and weirdly arousing because he did.

He licks Ulysse off, cleaning him for those drops that spilled from the seal of his lips and then crawls over him, leaning his weight upon his hands both sides of Ulysse and just looks at him as he tries to recover.

There's something inside him that says this, this sight right here, Ulysse soft like a kitten, trying to find his bearings, this should be just for him, just for Rook to see.

He snorts softly, and flops onto his side on the bed, then he turns Ulysse onto his side and pulls the man close, warm and flush against his chest.

It's warm and ridiculously comforting being spooned by Rook. Ulysse is certainly too exhausted and weak to protest, just shivering and pressing back into the warmth of the other man's body. It's difficult remembering how to talk after that, but once he can, he idly strokes Rook's arm and turns his head so he can watch the mage out the corner of his eyes, murmuring in a voice that's gone syrupy thick with lazy pleasure, "Once I can move again, I'm returning the favour."

Rook snorts again. Ulysse is far too invested in making things even and fair. It must be a personality thing...

He funnels a little bit of magic through his fingers, crooking one of them at the bottles that have been left on a little shelf by the tub. There are some salts and oils for the bath, and one that looks clean enough that he is willing to explore the contents of it. It's knocked off the shelf as if a wind blew to it, but it carries a little too far, ending just near enough on the bed that Rook can grab it.

"Stop worrying about it," he tells Ulysse, breathing the words beside his ear. "You look and sound like a lazy queen right now," he teases while he works the bottle open and some of the oil only his palm. It ends up neatly on his cock soon after. "I like it." The last is whispered against Ulysse's jawline as Rook smears the rest of the oil on the crack of his ass and then spreads him open to push his dick in there. He doesn't make a fuss about it, knowing that he stretched Ulysse open earlier enough that he can slide inside him fairly comfortably.

But instead of moving, he settles like that, his hard cock buried inside Ulysse, their bodies pressed together, relaxing, Rook's arm loosely wrapped around Ulysse's middle, his other folded under both of their heads as a pillow.

"Were you a whore before?" he asks quietly while his fingers trace idle patterns on Ulysse's chest. There's no judgement in his voice, just curiosity.

Getting filled so soon after he'd climaxed and so casually at that leaves Ulysse breathless and letting out a little strained noise that could almost be a whine. He settles shortly after, though, and shivers, closing his eyes and resting his arm over Rook's at his waist. This is... new. Not unpleasant, just very different to his usual encounters.

"Briefly," he answers, unembarrassed and comfortable. "When I was found, I was taken in by a brothel at the town I got brought to, but they didn't have me working for a few years since I was still too young and injured from whatever my life had been before. The men and women took good care of me, and at first I was more an escort and guard when they were brought to a client's home. Eventually I started working as one of them, paid off my debt of them taking care of me before then, and then saved some coin before moving on."

There's a soft chuckle and Ulysse shrugs, absently turning his head to nuzzle against Rook's arm. "They taught me a good deal on understanding and manipulating men and women, and not even with just sex. It helped in convincing lonely ship captains into allowing me cheap passage and getting good pay for other jobs I worked afterwards."

Rook laces their fingers together absentmindedly while he listens to Ulysse talk, his eyes narrowing every now and then when he tries to imagine Ulysse as an escort or hurt after being found at the sea.

He doesn't say anything, just nods once or twice. It all rings true to him. It's a life, not one that many would respect but he isn't many and he knows how tough it can be, everywhere, not just in the poor parts of the world. Respect is something that is hard to come by and you have to work hard to get it and take a lot of risks.

"My mother was a concubine," he says after a moment, his fingers entwined with Ulysse's drawing little circles on the man's chest. "Sex is something you can survive by in this world." He buries his nose into Ulysse's hair, the little beads in his hair clinking against one another as he makes his way to Ulysse's neck, pressing absentminded kisses there. "But it doesn't have to be." It can be just something to enjoy, or apparently it can be like this...

"Certainly," Ulysse agrees, humming quietly as he's given all those gentle little touches. "But that life... it wasn't for me."

Something about being kept, even if he could choose his own clients... it made him uncomfortable, and as soon as he was able, he got out.

He's curious about Rook's mother, this being the first time he's heard anything of her, but he's not sure the mage will want to speak of her. He turns his head, glancing back at Rook with quiet curiosity.

"Did you know your mother?" he asks gently.

"That life definitely isn't for you," Rook says with a soft snort. He sounds very certain of his position. Like he knows it's inherently true.

Rook presses his mouth to Ulysse's nose when he turns his head, not bothering to kiss him, just dragging the line of his teeth under the guise of his lip across the man's skin. There's a strange sense of intimacy here that he hasn't experienced ever before, a lack of any posturing and pretending.

"Yeah, for as long as she was alive, I did," he says quietly. "There was a coupe, and she was killed in the process. Destroyed along with the rest of the property. I was spared because of my magic. I still had value, you see."

Ulysse nods in silence, hand gently squeezing Rook's. "I see... I'm sorry," he murmurs.

Obviously he himself doesn't know anything about his own mother, if she's even alive out there, if he ever knew her, even. But he can imagine the feeling one might have over losing theirs.

This is also possibly the worst conversation to have while having a dick up his ass, but Rook doesn't seem to be in a hurry to move things along, so he'll keep gently probing.

"... How old were you?"

Rook is not in any kind of hurry to be honest. Strangely he's content to just lay there, as close as they possibly physically can ever get, his hand lazily tracing sweet little circles on Ulysse's chest and sides.

He snorts and pulls Ulysse's fingers to his mouth, kissing the tips of them. He doesn't need pity or even compassion, it was a long time ago.

"I was ten when I served in my first ship. It was a slaver brig."

Ulysse frowns, his fingers stiffening around Rook's and against the mage's lips. The thought of Rook as a slave had already disturbed him deeply, but the thought of Rook at such a young age being taken...

He closes his eyes, resting his cheek to Rook's arm, taking several slow, deep breaths, cold fingers stroking absently over the mage's lips and face, feeling the spirit stir aggressively at the back of his mind. When they're both calmed again, he shifts, shuddering slightly as the cock slips out of him, gently pushing the man over onto his back, straddling his hips, a hand lightly pressed to the center of Rook's chest to indicate he should stay down. Dark eyes remain locked on the mismatched blue and white even as Ulysse reaches behind him, grasping Rook's cock and holding it steady as he rises up and sinks back down on it, taking it in with a slight hitch to his breathing.

Apparently he's done talking, for now. At least on that particular line of conversation.

It's not a hard, fast, desperate ride. It's slow and sensual, calm as the waves lapping at the shore at dawn, the faintest flicker of blue briefly flitting across Ulysse's eyes as he gazes down at Rook. There's that faint smile ghosting over his lips and his head tilts up just a bit, showing off the long line of his neck all the way down to his waist just a tiny bit for Rook's benefit.

Rook goes down easily, groaning at the loss of the warmth around his dick but not resisting Ulysse when he obviously wants to take the lead. He rests against the bed quietly while he watches the man straddle his hips, all clean lines of bronze gold skin and cat-like grace. The jewellery around Ulysse's wrists and neck tingle gently as he moves, shadows shift over him, creating interesting depths to places that otherwise would be flat.

Rook buries his thumbs in one of those depths as he slides his hands up along Ulysse's thighs, finding purchase on his hip, his thumbs digging into the crevices between his leg and torso. There's heat there, softness that he knew would be there and still didn't expect.

He lets out a rough breath as Ulysse sinks onto him, eyes hooded and mouth slightly parted to allow his quickened breathing a room to work in.

When he starts to move, rocking gently up and down, Rook finds his gasps to be occasionally coloured with a hint of a moan. The mage reaches up with his calloused fingers and presses them to the centre of Ulysse's chest, smoothing them down along the centre of his body. The faint clinking of gold around Ulysse's wrists and neck is something Rook will dream about for years to come.

There's almost an art to how Ulysse moves, unhurried and graceful, never once shifting his gaze from Rook's eyes. His hips gyrate, deliberately grinding Rook's cock inside him and making his lips part on a soft moan from the delicious friction. He's still feeling sensitive from his last orgasm and it might make shivers go down his spine, but it's worth it just to see how Rook's reacting to him.

The mage might not be considered a beauty by any stretch, but Ulysse is fascinated by those sharp features. A bit coarse, angular, rough, but handsome, to him. The striking eyes in that tanned face that practically glow in the candlelight as they stare up at him, making him feel like he's pinned in place, even when Ulysse is the one on top. It's a strangely enticing feeling.

Arching into the hand at his chest, Ulysse takes it in his own and draws it up, kissing Rook's palm and then drawing a couple of those fingers past his lips, suckling on the tips with a little moan.

Rook has never been self-conscious, not even as a child. He knows what he's doing and how he's doing it. He's confident to a point of it being a little obnoxious at times. But he's never considered himself to be something desirable, something that people would look at like Ulysse is looking at him, with honey-heavy gaze and intent heat rippling just below the surface.

It's hard to deny the connection that is growing deeper and deeper between them. Rook has no idea what it is or what it will become, but he wouldn't give it away for any riches of the world. Because he feels like there's no pretence here, nothing that they're both hoping to pull out of each other with a performance. It's real and it's almost tangible.

It's intoxicating.

His fingers brush against the silky wetness of Ulysse's tongue, his breathing caught in his chest as the pressure and wet heat around two parts of his body create a weird dual sensation that only heightens the pleasure of it. He wants to kiss that mouth, but he doesn't want to stop watching Ulysse as he rocks on top of him. Instead he pulls his fingers out of Ulysse's mouth and paints his flush lips with his own saliva, his fingertip rounding that generous mouth, pushing in to trace the contours slowly.

Ulysse moans quietly and laps at those fingers before they slide back into his mouth, lashes fluttering as he stares down at Rook, teasing around the digits with his tongue as the mage feels around the inside of his mouth. Rook's not alone in wanting to kiss again, but that would mean stopping what he's doing and that would mean breaking the spell that seems to have settled between the two of them...

Whatever's growing is too precious, too perfect to be spoiled so soon. Ulysse's teeth lightly grasp around the invading fingers as his brow furrows in an almost agonised expression, his eyes closing as he presses his hips down more firmly, a soft groan slipping out his mouth as he feels the thick cock grinding inside of him. His fingers dig into Rook's chest before loosening again with a little tremor going through them as he continues the steady pace. It's a bit more intense, just a bit firmer, but Ulysse absolutely refuses to speed up so soon, just as he refuses to bend down to kiss Rook just yet.

It's all a show for Rook's benefit and Ulysse wants those eyes on him the whole time. He wants the events of the night, the horrors of their combined pasts that they're jaded to when no living being should ever have to experience it, all gone, at least for one night. He wants those eyes to keep looking on him with that fierce, tender affection, as opposed to the cruel lust that he'd been subjected to less than an hour ago. These soft touches and intense looks, the low noises they both release with such selfish rarity into the air, they combine to make the moment precious and private and theirs alone. Something good to take away from all the bad.

They've both been owned by people before, they've been taken without their consent and made to do horrible things, without any respect to their worth as human beings. They've both come out of it violently independent. It's no wonder that belonging to somewhere, to something, to someone is strange and new and awfully addicting.

It's both liberating and terrifying at the same time, giving away that fierce self-governing spirit that they both have in spades to relent to something the other wants, giving away the lead. Rook knows there's a plea in his gaze, but he doesn't know what he's begging for or what he even wants, just knows it is there. A yearning that makes his chest feel heavy as he watches that pretty face twist into an aching frowning that he seems to understand on a gut level alone. He feels the same, even if he has no words to describe it.

His head tilts back with a shuddering groan as Ulysse tightens around him and drives home with more heat. Their gazes for a moment blocked with darkness to endure the pleasure that seems to kick on overdrive right then and there. And when he cracks open his eyes again, there's almost a lost look in that one good eye, searching Ulysse's eyes again.

When their eyes meet, he lets out a soft, desperate moan and surges up, arms wrapping around Ulysse as they rock together, slow and intense. Rook's mouth finds a Ulysse's neck and drags up along it, not even having the mind to kiss but just taste, just feel, over the edge of that jaw and over that smooth cheek to those lips that he needs to kiss.

The sudden shift in positions drags a low groan from Ulysse's throat, feeling the cock shift in him as Rook sits up. It's a dirty pleasure that's surprisingly intimate just from how the mage doesn't start immediately rutting into him but instead wraps himself around Ulysse, that hot mouth tasting along his throat and cheek like he'd die without it.

When Rook reaches his mouth, Ulysse pushes into the kiss with a choked gasp, eyes fluttering shut as they rock together. Two bodies as tightly entwined as they physically can. He can't get enough of it.

The bangles on his wrists chime quietly as he shifts his arms up, wrapping one around Rook's shoulders so he can hold the back of the shaggy head. The other hand clutches at the mage's bicep, nails threatening to dig in each time he rocks up and down, fingers flexing with each delicious, slow, grind of flesh to flesh.

There's barely enough to push then over the edge, but that seems to matter less and less. What's important is the slick glide of their tongues, the squeeze of rough hands over scarred flesh, the mingling of breathy gasps each time they have to part for air, all of it tied up in each other until Ulysse can't tell where he starts and Rook ends.

Edited 2020-02-14 07:46 (UTC)

Entangled together like two interlaced twines, Rook holds Ulysse in a tight hold, his fingers digging into the man's back as his arms provide support for Ulysse to rock up and down on his lap. It's not a whole lot of friction but it's... intense, it's intimate in a way that sex has never been before. It seems that the end result lose their meaning more and more as they just come together in a ebb and flow that could be associated to the undulating of waves, ceaseless and unaffected by outside influences. The sea will make love to the rocks at the shore as it pleases.

Kissing becomes less important as well, as long as they can share the same breath, their mouths brushing against one another, gasping for air, lips wet with breathed mist and sweat and saliva, linger on skin.

It feels almost like madness. Rook can't quite make heads or tails of his own thoughts, but he knows they're all circling around the man who he has in the circle of his arms, rocking on top of him. Would, if he could, continue this forever, the pleasure and strange, new feeling of belonging that wraps around him like a glove.

One of Rook's hands slips down to Ulysse's ass, into his crack and traces his fingers along the stretched rim of his hole while it clings to his dick. It makes him tremble and groan against Ulysse's mouth, the dual sensation of it maddening.

That careful touch makes Ulysse shiver and moan quietly, breath gusting over Rook's lips as he feels those fingers along such a sensitive area that's already experience quite a bit as is. He draws his head back a bit, staring into the mage's eye, hands rising to lightly grasp Rook's face with his fingertips, as if any firm pressure might potentially shatter him, somehow.

This man...

Ulysse's voice is hushed and full of soft fondness as he murmurs, "What are you doing to me...?"

He's not even referring to the sex itself. It's the way Rook's somehow managed to arrest all of Ulysse's attention, filling his thoughts and all his senses with seemingly no effort at all, in a way no one has ever done before. It's almost frightening, even, but he's also feeling so very safe on top of everything else that he doesn't recoil at all.

If Ulysse were a mage, Rook would assume the man has him under a spell. He could still assume that about the entity that seems to be locked inside the man. But somewhere deep inside him he knows it's not that. He knows this is not a possession or a charm that has fallen upon him. And that's even more frightening than the prospect of facing a magic that he can't seem to usurp.

He tilts his chin up and stares into Ulysse's eyes as they move slowly against one another. That question makes him snort softly, their noses brushing together as he leans in, not enduring the separation well at all between their lips.

"The same thing I assume you're doing to me," he replies with a hoarse whisper. To be this vulnerable and open, Ulysse could knife him in the back whenever he wanted and Rook wouldn't even stop him.

It's quite clear that Ulysse would sooner cut off his own hand than put a knife to Rook's back, at least to him. The thought of any harm coming to this bizarre, fierce, hypnotising man is just...

Ulysse shakes his head and leans in again, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to one side of Rook's lips before resting their brows together. His breath hitches a bit as he starts to move a slight bit faster, squeezing around the cock he's riding so leisurely. How long have they been doing this? It feels as if this is all he knows or cares about, now, as though everything before this had been irrelevant. Completely consumed as he is by Rook.

Hmm, perhaps he's better suited to being a whore than he'd previously thought. At least when it comes to Rook...

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