Marco lets out a groan as he wraps his arms around Al's waist for a moment, burying his face against the man's strong chest.
"Fine," he says as he pulls away, jaw clenched and eyes a little wild as he glances at the stairs that lead to the deck. "I need some rope."
The mere thought of going out there chills him to the bone and makes his movements slow as he reaches for a coil of strong rope and starts towards the chairs. He nudges on the tether he has rooted in Al, making sure it's still there.
That tether pulses with a strong surge of pride, but Al doesn't say anything, just following right after Marco because there's no way in hell he's letting his husband out there on deck alone. He takes the rope from Marco and picks up the blond, holding him easily to his chest before opening the hatch to go topside, instinctively baring his teeth at the first flash of lightning that greets them.
"Hold on," he growls, staying low, feet wide apart as he keeps his balance, getting them to the main mast of the ship.
"Al, no!" Marco protests as Al starts to push onto the deck with him. He had happily burrowed against his husband's giant chest when he thought it was just Al's way of sending him away with some cuddling.
But now he's daring the madness on the deck with him and Marco finds himself double as terrified as he was before. "No, you can't--" He struggles against the hold Al has on him only so long as he realises that they're already out of the hatch and on the deck, cold rain making him shiver and burrow closer to Al's chest.
"You need to go back," he tries to shout over the roar of the ocean as Al struggles them through the rain and wind and unpredictable way of the ship to the main mast. "Al, listen to me, I don't want anything to happen to you!"
"Shut up and hang on," Al grunts, cradling Marco tight to himself until they reach the mast. He's quick to whip the rope around the thick wood, looping it around them both several times before settling with his back against the mast, turning Marco so the blond's back is to his front. Then the rope is being tightened, enough to tie them firmly to the mast before being knotted off. His arms wrap warm and tight around Marco, holding him against Al.
"Where you go, I go, remember?" he says in Marco's ear, grinning wild and sharp before kissing the blond's cheek. "Now concentrate. I'll keep you safe."
Marco closes his mouth when Al tells him to quiet and puts hauls them across the deck. They're already out there and if he keeps distracting Al, he's going to make the storm wipe them both away into the sea.
The storm is already speaking to him in any case, it's demanding his attention, pressing down on them until his breath is shallow and laboured. Al turns him around and he's like a ragdoll in the man's arms, slumping back against Al's chest as he stares at the open sky.
"Concentrate," he repeats, his eyes misted with rain falling on them. Al goes where he goes. Marco remembers that, it's the only thing that keeps him grounded right now, keeps him somewhat rooted in reality, the way Al's chest feels firm against his back, the way the fabric of his pants feels coarse under his fingertips.
He tries to concentrate and gather his magic but manages nothing but a sliver of it, a weak whisper that has nothing to the storm against them.
Al feels that little flutter of attempted magic, but doesn't push Marco to do more. He keeps his arms solid around the little blond, hands rubbing over Marco's front and sides, pressing warm kisses over the pale neck and shoulders.
"Breathe, love," he murmurs, nuzzling behind Marco's ear. "You don't need to stop the storm, just get it to flow past us."
Well, he has no other option than to do something. The storm is going to sink them if he doesn't. And while Marco might be able to accept himself drowning because of his short comings, he can't do that when Al is right there with him.
There are warm kisses on his wind-chilled skin and they make him remember that he's not alone. They're like warm stars on his skin, easy to concentrate on to give himself a point of focus. And from that focus, he spins magic like he used to back with his father. Cool, collected, not bound by any element. A whisper of something in his ears, a whisper of madness, something just beyond that veil that seems to stretch between the worlds.
He draws in a breath and the wind around them seems to follow that same rush, in and out of his lungs. He lifts his hands, brows furrowing a little as the sea suddenly mellows down around them. A little bubble of their own, surrounded by raging seas. The storm stops some fifteen feet away from the boat, what comes through is a light, pleasant rain. Marco's eyes look glassy, unfocused...
This is the kind of power that no mage should wield, it's going to drive them mad.
It's an abrupt change in atmosphere and one that makes the hair on Al's arms stand on end. But he lets Marco deal with that, focused more on his lover and continuing to give him gentle kisses, rubbing his hands over exposed pale skin to keep him warm. With the calm in the middle of the storm, Aidan runs over from the wheel, padding over to them with quiet wariness on his face.
Al calls over to him, "We need to weigh anchor. I'm not letting Marco keep this up too long, it's not safe. Grey can keep himself safe while it's storming, so let's find an island to take shelter on until it passes."
While Aidan clearly doesn't want to leave his brother out there alone, he has to agree that this is the sensible course of action and nods, heading back to steer them towards one of the dark smudges of land in the distance.
A little twitch at the corners of Marco's mouth turns into a small, fond smile as he tilts his head back and looks at his husband. Still no one is home, obviously, but that smile is very Marco-like, fond and sweet as he sways a little against Al, like the waves surrounding them, calm and peaceful.
His Al, perfect in all the ways Marco could describe. He doesn't understand the crazy Sawall magic and Marco understands it makes him wary and scared. It's hard to explain because Marco doesn't know all the variables either.
A tentacle of water slips past the railing, rising from the sea like a living being, followed by a few similar appendages. Marco looks at them and lets out a whimper as he closes one of his fists tightly and the tentacles suddenly loose their composition and slosh down to the deck. Marco shakes his head slowly, eyes squeezing shut.
"I'm not made for storms," he struggles out. "But I'll weather this one out. We can go on."
The wind picks up when he breaths in deep, holding it in while it fills the sails and propels the ship forward.
The fact that Al is right there makes him steady, makes him capable of holding the magic that used to run him completely to the ground.
Al had watched those telltale tentacles of water, but didn't say anything, just nosing along Marco's hairline, knowing somehow in his gut that the blond would keep things under control. When the wind fills the sails and they start moving, Al reaches for one of Marco's hands, tangling their fingers together and squeezing gently.
"We're too close to too many islands to risk the storm even with a weathered ocean or wind mage," Al murmurs, squeezing his arm around Marco's middle. "Just hold it together for a little longer, sweetheart. We'll find a place to weigh anchor safely until it passes."
"If you think that's the best," Marco gives in easily. He tilts his temple back against Al's chin and pushes back a few more tentacles that slither across the deck. His other hand seek's Al's as well, lacing their fingers together. His brows are furrowed in a pained frown as he digs in deep in his husband to keep his hold steady.
The storm is raging outside his barrier, waves washing against it easily above their ship, lighting flashes somewhere, the rumble of it muffled as it reaches them. A few strayed sharks swim close enough to the barrier wall that they become visible, also well above the ship's deck.
"Al," Marco murmurs, his nose brushing against Al's chin. "I'm sorry I am such a coward."
"You're not a coward," comes the immediate response, Al's voice quiet but firm.
He squeezes both hands and kisses Marco's temples, making sure to push his overwhelming sense of pride for his husband through that magical tether. "You're braver than you know, darling. You've just been convinced through all the shit you've been through that you're weak."
When in reality, Al knows only someone strong could get through even half the nightmare Marco survived.
Shaking his head mildly, Marco breathes out a soft sigh. No, Al doesn't see it like that. Marco doubts that he should either, but he does. Mandor's indoctrination game is strong.
The pride and warmth that comes through the tether gives him a sense of security and being loved. But it doesn't help with his work. Marco works under pressure the best, he knows this about himself. (True or not.)
He doesn't mention the strong built mages of Al's home who could endure this and more without a problem. They might not bring a calm like this, an eerie still that isn't natural, but they would weather a storm without a problem.
He tilts his head back and smiles at Al, warm and sweet, his eyes still hooded and unfocused but mouth curved and fond. "You're the sweetest thing I know," he says softly.
"That's because the rest of them are blind," Marco murmurs as he tilts his face towards Al and manages to catch the corner of Al's mouth with his lips. Briefly but just enough.
Aidan who stands on the elevated place behind the wheel might see the watery tentacles that have woven themselves around the sides of the boat. But they rarely venture to the deck and wind is filling the sails well enough that they make good time towards one of the islands that has been marked on the sea charts.
Marco leans back against Al's chest and finally closes his eyes completely to focus on the lull of the power inside him. He burrows deep in the tether he has with Al to keep himself grounded. Some of the sheer madness of his magic might spill over but he trusts that Al can handle it. He hasn't complained this far.
Al's always been wary of magic, but there's no way he'd buckle when his husband depends on him. Even now in the middle of the storm, with Marco's mad magic whipping the sea around them, Al just closes his eyes and grits his teeth, holding the blond firmly to his front, nose buried against the wet, pale hair.
It takes longer than he'd like for them to weigh anchor at safety, but when Aidan informs him of it, he dips his head, giving a little kiss to Marco's cheek.
"You can stop casting, sweetheart," he murmurs, giving a squeeze to Marco's middle. "We can rest here until the storm's passed."
It's a curious thing, magic. Marco is always reluctant to start but when he has committed himself in the task, it becomes an addiction so easily. So readily. It's a lullaby that seduces him to dig in a little deeper, to sink himself into it further and further.
Happily there's Al, who still looks like his husband when Marco cracks open his eyes and stares at Al, for a brief moment the look in his glassy eyes distant and confused. Then crinkles appear around his eyes and Marco smiles up at Al, nodding.
"Alright, love."
The wind is what calms first, the still around them going eerily quiet for a moment as Marco struggles with letting go.
Marco hums under his breath and finally manages to ease his aching grip on the magic. The ship suddenly dives out from the wave, the sea rushing in and sloshing on the deck all around them. Marco gasps as he's drenched from head to toe, for a moment unable to breathe while they struggle up onto the surface. His fingers squeeze tighter around Al's as the storm tosses them around. Quite a bit of velocity is directed at the both of them and they'd be washed away into the sea if they weren't tied to the mast.
It's violent and scary and there will be bruises from the ropes to endure. The anchor weights them down and struggles against the howling wind. Marco wishes he would have been tied face first to Al's chest because there's no relief from the cold showers straight to his face like this.
He sputters and tries to burrow as close to his husband's chest as possible.
"Can we go under the deck?" he shouts and ends up with a mouthful of salty seawater.
"Yeah, hang on-" Al growls back, quickly loosening the rope around them and leaving it wound around the mast so they won't lose it to the storm. Then Marco's gathered up to his chest, though this time higher up so his head's more likely to stay over the water should another wave hit before they get to the hatch.
Al snaps his head around to see where Aidan's got to, and the selkie just waves the couple off from the rigging he's tightening to make sure the sails aren't in danger of dropping open in the raging winds. Trusting Aidan can handle himself in violent waters better than anyone else on the ship, Al yanks the door up and jumps down, letting it slam shut over them. It's certainly quieter below, but the roar of the ocean is around them as the waves slam and swirl around the vessel, making the wood creak and groan.
All that's ignorable though. Al carries him over to their section of the crew's quarters, wanting to get Marco dried off and warm and safe.
Marco feels like a little monkey, clinging to Al's shoulders as they move across the tilting deck. He will be a little ashamed to admit it but he closes his eyes at some point tightly and just lets Al handle the rest while he counts from one to at least two hundred before they pop under the hatch and the rain stops beating against his face.
He reaches up to brush his wet hair out of his eyes and leans back just far enough that he can look at Al.
"Lucky," he says warmly as he presses his forehead to Al's. "Damn lucky."
He doesn't quite fathom the idea that someone would not feel lucky having someone like Al in their corner. Even the storm doesn't have much to him now that he's still burrowed tight into the tether between them.
Smiling a bit, Al gives a little squeeze to Marco's waist, not stopping until they've reached their corner. Then he sets the blond down on a crate, fingers reaching up to gently brush over his cheeks before the big man reaches up, digging through the hanging net bags the crew have taken to using to keep their things stowed away and out of reach of potential water flooding the the floor.
A towel is tugged out, wrapped around Marco before Al then gets some dry clothes for them both, setting these in their large hammock. "All right, lets get dried off, and we can try to get some sleep. Sound doable?" he asks, smiling down at Marco as he strokes back the blond's hair from his face.
Curling up in dry clothes against Al's warm side sounds like a dream come through to Marco right now. The storm is still raging outside, so maybe something else as well, it's curling the bottom of Marco's stomach in tight, tight knots that have everything to do with magic.
"Alright," he says as Al strokes his head with the towel, drying the curly hair that is starting to stand up. "Alright, we'll get dry and then you put that dick of yours into me," he suggests warmly as his pruned fingers are peeling open the belt and sash around his waist.
Al snorts at the demand disguised as suggestion, tweaking his husband's nose as he helps the blond strip off. "And then going straight to sleep, hm? Gonna keep my cock warm for me all night?" he teases softly, crouching down as he helps take Marco's shoes off before peeling the soaked pants down and off the long, pale legs that he can't resist giving a little kiss to the knees of.
"If that's what you like," Marco replies with a steady look in his eyes that might be a little challenging or it might be just very straight forward. "If you want me as your cocksleeve, that's exactly what I shall be."
Let lets Al undress him, helping along with clothes that stick to his skin and force him to wriggle and sigh a little while he peels the fabric off of himself.
When Al kisses his knee, Marco smiles down at him and reaches for his husband's cheeks to cup them between his hands so he can tilt the man's face up and then kiss him on the mouth. "I don't know why, but I feel grounded with you inside me so... as long as you want to stay, that's preferable."
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perhapstomorrow2020-01-25 10:33 pm
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"Fine," he says as he pulls away, jaw clenched and eyes a little wild as he glances at the stairs that lead to the deck. "I need some rope."
The mere thought of going out there chills him to the bone and makes his movements slow as he reaches for a coil of strong rope and starts towards the chairs. He nudges on the tether he has rooted in Al, making sure it's still there.
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"Hold on," he growls, staying low, feet wide apart as he keeps his balance, getting them to the main mast of the ship.
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But now he's daring the madness on the deck with him and Marco finds himself double as terrified as he was before. "No, you can't--" He struggles against the hold Al has on him only so long as he realises that they're already out of the hatch and on the deck, cold rain making him shiver and burrow closer to Al's chest.
"You need to go back," he tries to shout over the roar of the ocean as Al struggles them through the rain and wind and unpredictable way of the ship to the main mast. "Al, listen to me, I don't want anything to happen to you!"
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"Where you go, I go, remember?" he says in Marco's ear, grinning wild and sharp before kissing the blond's cheek. "Now concentrate. I'll keep you safe."
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The storm is already speaking to him in any case, it's demanding his attention, pressing down on them until his breath is shallow and laboured. Al turns him around and he's like a ragdoll in the man's arms, slumping back against Al's chest as he stares at the open sky.
"Concentrate," he repeats, his eyes misted with rain falling on them. Al goes where he goes. Marco remembers that, it's the only thing that keeps him grounded right now, keeps him somewhat rooted in reality, the way Al's chest feels firm against his back, the way the fabric of his pants feels coarse under his fingertips.
He tries to concentrate and gather his magic but manages nothing but a sliver of it, a weak whisper that has nothing to the storm against them.
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"Breathe, love," he murmurs, nuzzling behind Marco's ear. "You don't need to stop the storm, just get it to flow past us."
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There are warm kisses on his wind-chilled skin and they make him remember that he's not alone. They're like warm stars on his skin, easy to concentrate on to give himself a point of focus. And from that focus, he spins magic like he used to back with his father. Cool, collected, not bound by any element. A whisper of something in his ears, a whisper of madness, something just beyond that veil that seems to stretch between the worlds.
He draws in a breath and the wind around them seems to follow that same rush, in and out of his lungs. He lifts his hands, brows furrowing a little as the sea suddenly mellows down around them. A little bubble of their own, surrounded by raging seas. The storm stops some fifteen feet away from the boat, what comes through is a light, pleasant rain. Marco's eyes look glassy, unfocused...
This is the kind of power that no mage should wield, it's going to drive them mad.
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Al calls over to him, "We need to weigh anchor. I'm not letting Marco keep this up too long, it's not safe. Grey can keep himself safe while it's storming, so let's find an island to take shelter on until it passes."
While Aidan clearly doesn't want to leave his brother out there alone, he has to agree that this is the sensible course of action and nods, heading back to steer them towards one of the dark smudges of land in the distance.
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His Al, perfect in all the ways Marco could describe. He doesn't understand the crazy Sawall magic and Marco understands it makes him wary and scared. It's hard to explain because Marco doesn't know all the variables either.
A tentacle of water slips past the railing, rising from the sea like a living being, followed by a few similar appendages. Marco looks at them and lets out a whimper as he closes one of his fists tightly and the tentacles suddenly loose their composition and slosh down to the deck. Marco shakes his head slowly, eyes squeezing shut.
"I'm not made for storms," he struggles out. "But I'll weather this one out. We can go on."
The wind picks up when he breaths in deep, holding it in while it fills the sails and propels the ship forward.
The fact that Al is right there makes him steady, makes him capable of holding the magic that used to run him completely to the ground.
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"We're too close to too many islands to risk the storm even with a weathered ocean or wind mage," Al murmurs, squeezing his arm around Marco's middle. "Just hold it together for a little longer, sweetheart. We'll find a place to weigh anchor safely until it passes."
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The storm is raging outside his barrier, waves washing against it easily above their ship, lighting flashes somewhere, the rumble of it muffled as it reaches them. A few strayed sharks swim close enough to the barrier wall that they become visible, also well above the ship's deck.
"Al," Marco murmurs, his nose brushing against Al's chin. "I'm sorry I am such a coward."
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He squeezes both hands and kisses Marco's temples, making sure to push his overwhelming sense of pride for his husband through that magical tether. "You're braver than you know, darling. You've just been convinced through all the shit you've been through that you're weak."
When in reality, Al knows only someone strong could get through even half the nightmare Marco survived.
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The pride and warmth that comes through the tether gives him a sense of security and being loved. But it doesn't help with his work. Marco works under pressure the best, he knows this about himself. (True or not.)
He doesn't mention the strong built mages of Al's home who could endure this and more without a problem. They might not bring a calm like this, an eerie still that isn't natural, but they would weather a storm without a problem.
He tilts his head back and smiles at Al, warm and sweet, his eyes still hooded and unfocused but mouth curved and fond. "You're the sweetest thing I know," he says softly.
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"You're the only one who'd say that, sweetheart," Al jokes, squeezing those delicate hands again.
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Aidan who stands on the elevated place behind the wheel might see the watery tentacles that have woven themselves around the sides of the boat. But they rarely venture to the deck and wind is filling the sails well enough that they make good time towards one of the islands that has been marked on the sea charts.
Marco leans back against Al's chest and finally closes his eyes completely to focus on the lull of the power inside him. He burrows deep in the tether he has with Al to keep himself grounded. Some of the sheer madness of his magic might spill over but he trusts that Al can handle it. He hasn't complained this far.
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It takes longer than he'd like for them to weigh anchor at safety, but when Aidan informs him of it, he dips his head, giving a little kiss to Marco's cheek.
"You can stop casting, sweetheart," he murmurs, giving a squeeze to Marco's middle. "We can rest here until the storm's passed."
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Happily there's Al, who still looks like his husband when Marco cracks open his eyes and stares at Al, for a brief moment the look in his glassy eyes distant and confused. Then crinkles appear around his eyes and Marco smiles up at Al, nodding.
"Alright, love."
The wind is what calms first, the still around them going eerily quiet for a moment as Marco struggles with letting go.
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"Just like that," he encourages quietly. "Let it go. We're safe."
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It's violent and scary and there will be bruises from the ropes to endure. The anchor weights them down and struggles against the howling wind. Marco wishes he would have been tied face first to Al's chest because there's no relief from the cold showers straight to his face like this.
He sputters and tries to burrow as close to his husband's chest as possible.
"Can we go under the deck?" he shouts and ends up with a mouthful of salty seawater.
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Al snaps his head around to see where Aidan's got to, and the selkie just waves the couple off from the rigging he's tightening to make sure the sails aren't in danger of dropping open in the raging winds. Trusting Aidan can handle himself in violent waters better than anyone else on the ship, Al yanks the door up and jumps down, letting it slam shut over them. It's certainly quieter below, but the roar of the ocean is around them as the waves slam and swirl around the vessel, making the wood creak and groan.
All that's ignorable though. Al carries him over to their section of the crew's quarters, wanting to get Marco dried off and warm and safe.
"How are you feeling?"
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He reaches up to brush his wet hair out of his eyes and leans back just far enough that he can look at Al.
"Lucky," he says warmly as he presses his forehead to Al's. "Damn lucky."
He doesn't quite fathom the idea that someone would not feel lucky having someone like Al in their corner. Even the storm doesn't have much to him now that he's still burrowed tight into the tether between them.
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A towel is tugged out, wrapped around Marco before Al then gets some dry clothes for them both, setting these in their large hammock. "All right, lets get dried off, and we can try to get some sleep. Sound doable?" he asks, smiling down at Marco as he strokes back the blond's hair from his face.
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"Alright," he says as Al strokes his head with the towel, drying the curly hair that is starting to stand up. "Alright, we'll get dry and then you put that dick of yours into me," he suggests warmly as his pruned fingers are peeling open the belt and sash around his waist.
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Let lets Al undress him, helping along with clothes that stick to his skin and force him to wriggle and sigh a little while he peels the fabric off of himself.
When Al kisses his knee, Marco smiles down at him and reaches for his husband's cheeks to cup them between his hands so he can tilt the man's face up and then kiss him on the mouth. "I don't know why, but I feel grounded with you inside me so... as long as you want to stay, that's preferable."
(no subject)