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

While he doesn't react at the first call of his name, Midnight does twitch his head up at the second call, dark eyes turned white again as they stare up at Grey's face. The wind plucks at their hair and clothes, the tree Grey's leaned against swaying above them dangerously.

Some part of Midnight recognises that calm in Grey, though, and latches onto it. For a moment, it's like that first time in the ship when Midnight had given Grey a brief glimpse into what it was like, feeling and hearing the pressure of the oncoming storm and the agitated spirits attacking him for it. The enraged spirits are relentless. Perhaps it's because they're freshly killed, or because the storm is giving them more power, but they're intent on making their voices heard.

Grey's brows furrow at the sight of Midnight's white eyes. It's chilling to witness this, not just from far away but this close up... His jaw tightens as he leans in to press his brows against the mage's, inviting him to lean in as well.

The hollering of the spirits is... awful. There's no way to describe it. No way to justify it to his own brain. Grey isn't someone who has any experience with the world beyond the living. He's fully and simply a human being, nothing extraordinary about him. Except perhaps the way he can stand in the middle of that wailing and screeching and crying and not crumble under it.

It gets to it, it's certain, fraying him at the edges, but there's still more solid presence to him than one could expect, steady and peaceful. His eyes close for a moment, squeezed shut against the cacophony but after a moment he opens them again, looking into Midnight's eyes quietly.

Then he leans in to kiss the mage, simply and sweetly.

It's not an immediate cure, and the mage doesn't even seem to realise he's being kissed, at first. But then he shifts with a little sigh, his magic dying down to instead pour into Grey, wrapping around him intimately tight. The spirits are still there. They're still screaming, still clawing at him, but... they feel muted. As if through his magic surging into Grey, Midnight's absorbing some of the pirate's solid quiet, just a bit, as a barrier between himself and them.

Grey tucks the mage's head under his chin as he stands there, back against the palm tree and listens to the screaming. Eventually it'll have to stop. Eventually. He hopes it will at least. Because this is a lot...

Midnight's magic roots in him and Grey feels it, he can sense it growing roots inside him, and it's terrifying and sickening and he has to swallow several times to hold himself steady under the pressure. Had someone suggested that he would be allowing a mage to tether onto him a few months ago, he would have told them to fuck off. But here he is, suggesting it, willingly giving himself over to be the wage holding down Midnight when he spirals out of control.

And he... likes it. The idea of it. He likes it. He likes how it feels, the strange new thread that is growing inside him, strengthening by the minute.

Grey pushes himself on the move. He doesn't have time to think about it right now. They need to find shelter, a storm is coming.

The tether isn't fully formed, but clearly wanting to, settling heavy in the pirate and practically holding him in its grasp, like a cat delicately flexing its claws with fierce tender care around a new toy. So close to piercing the thin membrane, but not quite doing so.

As the spirits seem to draw back a bit, Midnight sighs more audibly, white eyes closing as he nuzzles in under Grey's jaw, the trembling finally easing a bit. The wind stills around them a bit, too, allowing the storm to do its thing unaided. The mage himself isn't fully settled, but... he's getting there. Just drawing on Grey's strength and quiet, his magic wanting so desperately to just bridge that last little gap but barely held back as Midnight curls up tight in the pirate's arms like a kitten.

It's not much when Grey finds them their little shelter. It's just a little cave-like formation of rocks on a hill side. They're mostly hidden from the view by the shrubbery that grows around it and protected from the storm by the rocks. He's content with it.

It's a little tight fit with both of them there, but Grey wouldn't let Midnight wander far like this in any case.

He squeezes in with the mage cradled against his chest. Then scoots down to sit with his back against the rock. They'll have to wait and for the storm to pass over. And then see if the fishing boat is still at the shore.

While the sky blackens above them and the sounds of the ocean grow louder as the waves roil, ready to cause some chaos once the storm actually hits, Midnight remains in Grey's lap, almost in a fever-dream state. While the spirits voices have been muffled with that temporary shield provided by Grey, there's no denying the way the growing storm pulls at Midnight's magic, making his skin crawl faintly with the increasing energy in the atmosphere.

Eventually it's enough to shake Midnight out of his daze, the mage sitting up and attempting to crawl out of Grey's lap. He's abruptly made aware of how he's still naked, feeling the way the pirate's clothes rasp against his too-sensitive skin, the increasing warmth in Grey's hands that have been holding him close. Even with the horrors of the day, the faint stirrings of lust are practically instinctual, a long-developed response to oncoming changes in weather, his magic and body craving some form of release to get rid of that excess energy that makes his skin tingle.

"... It's hot," he mumbles, trying to push away from Grey because the pirate's done enough and Midnight shouldn't need sex for this. He shouldn't.

Grey can feel the shift through the incomplete tether. He can feel the nervous energy crawling over the mage and it's not a surprise to him when Midnight pulls away. He doesn't know exactly what's happening, but he can guess given how mages tend to react to storms.

He's just never seen it close up.

His arm tightens around Midnight's waist and he murmurs: "Hold on," as he extends his hand outside the cave, letting rain fall onto his palm. When he pulls his hand back there's water in the cup of his palm. He pours it onto Midnight's shoulders, then spreads it across the mage's chest, washing away grime and blood and dirt from his skin. It takes a few tries to get him actually clean. His hand, wet and chilled with the rain water, splays on the mage's chest, one rough thumb brushing over a nipple quite deliberately as Grey looks at Midnight.

"You okay?"

The rain water is a surprise, and a welcome one at that, the mage shivering with a soft gasp as Grey cleans and cools him off at the same time. It actually seems to help a bit, at least until that thumb strokes over his nipple, making goosebumps shiver over him. His head falls back, dark eyes staring almost helplessly up at Grey as the mage's hands flutter restlessly over the pirate's thighs.

Then he shivers and closes his eyes, unable to keep himself from biting his lower lip. "No," he admits quietly. "But this is normal, so no need to worry."

Grey watches him with eyes gone dark and intense. Generally the situation isn't exactly the most inviting in terms of sex and arousal but they left things at a very awkward angle back in harbour and he can feel that tether that burns between them.

"Are you holding back because you don't want me or because you think you should?" he asks directly as he brushes his thumb over that nipple again, this time leaving it there, rubbing over the perky little nub.

"If it's the latter, please stop."

"But- I'm a mage," he answers immediately, frowning and twitching away from the hand at his chest because he shouldn't be so distracted (and getting turned on). "You saw what I did to those- those men. You were right."

Maybe it's because of the building storm that's already got him on edge, but Midnight's breath is growing short and his chest tight. It's worse that his self-disgust is apparently doing nothing to stop his body from getting increasingly desperate for some outlet. He ends up scrubbing at his face with both hands hard enough to turn the golden brown skin red, swiping his damp hair back with a shuddering sigh.

"It's fine. I'm not going to... lose control. I'll just... It's fine. The storm will get here soon and it'll pass."

"I saw a man defending himself," Grey says quietly but doesn't force Midnight to stay close to him. He loosens his hold immediately when the mage struggles against it. He's not someone to force himself upon anyone. Even if it were good for them.

"They kidnapped you, and then were about to rape you..." The captain's stormy eyes narrow as he stares at Midnight. "You're supposed to strike back. You don't belong to anyone just because they're stronger and want it. Not them, not me, not anyone."

He points a finger at Midnight's chest and gently prods it. "I said if you want me, stop being an idiot. If you don't, then fine. I'm not going to fuck you just because you need a release from the storm. Nor should you."

It's... incredible how easily this mage worms his way under Grey's skin. He seems to have a real talent for it.

Dark eyes stare mutely up at Grey, Midnight's face both strained and just a bit confused as he leans back against a 'wall' of their shelter. His skin prickles all over but he stubbornly ignores it and how he's now covered in a fine sheen of sweat, hair sticking to his face and neck as he shakes his head, staring down at his feet.

How does he explain to Grey how the magic is pulsing in his veins, wanting some way to get out, but at the same time, it now terrifies him? He'd always known to some degree that his particular branch of magic could cause harm... he'd just never done it, beyond accidentally calling in the storm that had destroyed his last 'owner's' ship.

Now, as much as he wants to grab Grey, to slide into his lap and lick his way into that stern mouth, he's too aware of how dangerous he is. How Grey had been so right to be so wary of him. Not only that, but Grey had admitted to him, less than a day ago, that he didn't just jump into casual sex.

The mage lets out a dry, bitter little chuckle and hangs his head before dropping it back, turning his gaze out of their shelter to the darkening skies. "I'm a pretty shit liar, so I won't bother pretending I don't want to ride you like a pony. But you don't do casual sex. You said so yourself. And you hate magic."

His eyes slip over to Grey's face, his smile humorless as he shrugs and continues, "If we fucked, now? I don't know what my magic will do, and after... what happened earlier, not sure it's a good idea to risk it."

So, there's the problem. Midnight doesn't want him to think that this is going to be something more than sex. Grey understands it. It's not hard to see why he wouldn't want someone like Grey fixating on him. Especially because it's his ship and his crew.

Eventually he shrugs and looks away. He can handle rejection. Even if it's not familiar to him given his lack of trying.

The mage doesn't look that good with the storm obviously riding heavy on his shoulders. Grey offered to help and Midnight did not want it. There's nothing much he can do about it.

"You don't seem like you're struggling with control," he says but then folds himself up and stands, even if he has to bow over in the shelter that isn't exactly made for his height. "But it's up to you."

He peers outside into the darkening jungle. "I'll go see if I can spot the rest of the crew." They need to have their throats slit open.

That immediately grabs Midnight's attention and he tenses up, eyes going just a bit wider.

"Isn't that dangerous? You're outnumbered out there, and the storm's coming," he says, voice just a bit agitated at the thought of Grey going back out there.

"It's just a storm," Grey says, a little pointedly. And as if he weren't throwing the mage's own words at him, he shrugs and steps outside into the pouring rain. "They're not going to see me coming."

Midnight stares after him, hands clenching at his own knees.

Then, quietly, "Do... do you have to kill them?"

That makes Grey pause and look back at the mage.

He struggles with it for a moment, turning his face to the pouring rain and takes a few deep breaths.

Then he scoots down again, diving under the shelter to sit at the opposing side of their tiny cave, his jaw clenching as he looks at Midnight.

"No."

He certainly hadn't expected Grey to comply, but he's grateful for it, and Midnight remains silent for a bit, staring at the pirate from his side of the cave, legs tucked up to his chest.

"... I'm sorry," he mumbles at last, chin dipping and pressing the lower half of his face against his knees. "I know it's dangerous to let them live, I just..."

Shuddering, he wraps his arms around his knees and head, taking a deep inhale and exhaling in a loud, long sigh.

Grey watches him for a moment, lips pressed into a thin line. Then he sighs and pulls at the hem of his shirt, yanking it over his head and out of the bracers that are tight around his wrists. He offers the garment to the mage.

"You're going to be cold eventually. It's getting chilly."

Midnight's eyes are a bit distracted by the sight of a half-naked Grey rather than the shirt being held out to him, and he hesitates in reaching out. It's really, really not helping him keep his hands to himself, because he can see the sweat and rainwater mingling over all that skin, just begging for a warm mouth to kiss up-

"What about you...?"

Grey holds the shirt quietly, urging with his gaze for Midnight to take the shirt.

"I have the rest of my clothes. I'll be fine."

The way the mage looks at him like he were something absolutely delicious does not help with the arousal that is swimming just below the surface, just under his skin, ready to open the floodgates.

There's clear hesitation in Midnight's face but he eventually takes the shirt, biting his lip at the jolt of electricity that goes up his arm from the brief brush of his fingers against Grey's.

"... Thanks."

He pulls the shirt on, feeling the residual heat of the pirate in the dampened cloth as it settles over him. Without meaning to, he finds himself burying his nose against his sleeve-covered arm, a little shiver of delight going down his body on smelling Grey's scent that's been drenched into the worn fabric. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to accept the shirt...

And there, the floodgates have been opened. Grey's nostrils flare wide open when Midnight dives into his shirt that is practically a tent on the mage's slight built, constantly wanting to drop from one elbow or spill over his fingers.

Grey swears he sees white spots in the air with how quickly blood is rushing downward, his cock suddenly very uncomfortable in his pants.

He looks away sharply, staring into the rain and blinks several times.

Midnight combs his hair back as he settles with the shirt, closing his eyes as he savors the scent as it wraps around him. Unfortunately, that scent is also reminding him of that passionate night back on the ship, how Grey's musk had been especially strong between his legs when Midnight was doing his damned best to choke on his-

Lightning arcs across the sky and the mage lets out a quiet, helpless little moan, shivering and squeezing his arms tight around his knees, feeling his cock harden against his belly. He doesn't want to make it even more awkward for Grey, but his skin is itching and despite Grey having worried he might get cold, he's starting to feel feverishly hot with each passing second.

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