"You weren't," comes the calm response, as though Ulysse knows this for a fact even as he trembles and rocks up against Rook, hands settling along the mage's scarred back to encourage the movements. "Otherwise you would've been joining Al and Marco on one of their 'open nights' with Midnight. You kept your pants on for quite a while before the storm. Before you came for me."
"So," Rook husks out with an amused snort. "I am picky. What of it?"
Truth be told, he hadn't seen anything much interesting in the rest of the crew after seeing Ulysse in that bar. There were other mages, half-mers, things in the crew but no one who was like Ulysse. The man was all about deliberate grace and seductive mystery that got right under Rook's skin. He was a glimmer of gold and smoky scent of incense. He was an addiction and craving in one.
Rook pushes himself up just enough to be able to look at Ulysse's eyes while he lets his hips rock forward, taking his time observing the heat rising up to the man's cheeks again.
"I have high standards," he says in a rough whisper.
There's a soft laugh that's just a bit strained as Ulysse's lashes flutter closed, teeth digging into his lip as he breathes through the waves of sensation being dragged out of his still too sensitized body with each rock of their hips.
"You're laying with a retired whore, are you sure your standards are that high?" he teases, that husky purr returning to his voice.
There's definitely something... addictive about Rook's attention. That despite being surrounded by a rather exotic cast of characters onboard their ship, some arguably more beautiful or charming or desirable than Ulysse in so many ways, Rook's still focused in on him. It's obviously in part due to the spirit dwelling in him, but even without Rook saying as much, Ulysse knows that's not the only reason.
Sure, it's partly the spirit that grasped Rook's attention but it definitely wasn't the spirit that held it captive after the fact, that commanded it from there on out. No, that's all this retired whore right here that made Rook incapable of looking away.
"Anyone who disagrees can come talk with me," he says in a low, menacing tone that says clearer than a hundred words that anyone who would dare would find themselves tied to a rock at the bottom of the endless ocean or bleeding in a gutter.
Rook reaches between them and brushes his rough thumb over Ulysse's nipple while he rocks his hips against the man, deliberately hounding him, trying to find that rhythm and angle that will drive him crazy.
A sharp inhale accompanies that stroke over his nipple and Ulysse arches his spine just a fraction, eyes remaining closed as he savours the sensation. As Rook keeps rocking into him, he finds himself biting his lip, legs loosely wrapping around the mage's waist, inviting him to continue.
There's no way Ulysse would stop him. The heat returning to his cheeks, the way his cock is valiantly trying to harden between them, and his nipples tightening at the teasing touches paint the picture clear enough. He's more than happy to be wrecked by Rook tonight, and he suspects the mage won't have any complaints about Ulysse returning the favour.
"There are all kinds of stupid in this world," Rook says, his voice distracted as he watches Ulysse stretching under him. He's beautiful. If Rook were a poet, he would try to describe the way Ulysse makes him feel, if he were a painted, he might try to portray the perfection Rook finds on that golden skin.
But he's neither and all he can really do is worship with his hands and mouth.
His touch is gentle as he rubs his thumb over the hardening nipple and watches quietly the flush from Ulysse's cheeks to spread down to his neck and shoulders, darkening his complexion faintly.
They're going to be so exhausted when the night is done but Rook honestly wouldn't want it any other way.
He shifts onto his knees, slowly pushing down Ulysse's legs from his hips and moves to straddle his thighs before he pushes himself up on both of his arms, Ulysse caged in between his legs and arms. He leans down to whisper: "Turn around."
Dark eyes stare up at Rook's face as Ulysse takes a moment to gather his wits. He looks utterly comfortable and debauched, lips swollen from how he's been biting at them, hair slightly tangled and draped over the sheets, his skin practically glowing with heat and sweat... and he feels it. He feels utterly spoiled, and for a moment considers refusing to turn.
Ultimately, he rolls over, taking his time like a lazy cat and even throwing in a little nip to Rook's wrist and a sly, amused glance over his shoulder before he's resting on his front, scarred back exposed to the mage. Those eye-catching tattoos at his throat don't extend past his nape, either, so there's nothing but Ulysse's hair obscuring a small portion of his scars.
There's the faint jingle of metal as he reaches over to one of Rook's hands, bracelets glinting in the candlelight, fingertips stroking along the mage's knuckles, waiting to see what he's got planned.
Rook waits for him to do his little dance. Fondly tilting his head as he watches the man take his time and stretch and tease like a cat. There's a hard stare in Rook's eyes as he reaches down to brush aside the dark hair from Ulysse's nape, but while his face looks strict and tough - stark lines and unyielding edges - there is simmering warmth under his lashes as he leans down to press a few kisses to the very nape of Ulysse's neck.
Then he pushes up again and sits on Ulysse's thighs. He reaches for the oil bottle and pours some onto his palm, letting it warm against his skin before he rubs his hands up and down along Ulysse's back, fingers digging into sore muscles all the way up to Ulysse's shoulders that he squeezes between his fingers, kneading the tension away.
The massage is unexpected - he'd honestly thought Rook was just getting it for more slick down below - but it's a welcome surprise that manages to draw a warm, pleased little sigh from Ulysse's lips. He brings his hands under his face, resting his cheek over them and closing his eyes as he savours the sensation of Rook's hands smoothing over his back.
"You're just full of surprises, aren't you?" he hums, lips curling into a brief, fond little smile.
Rook just hums as a reply and shrugs while he smooths his hands over Ulysse's back.
He focuses on Ulysse's upper back for a while, even dragging his intruding fingers down to the man's arms here and there. Then he moves down, paying attention to his lower back and buttocks. He kneads the thick muscle at Ulysse's ass and slips his thumbs into the man's crack to rub a bit more slick over his hole, a little bit inside him as well.
And when he seems ready to move back up, he sits forward and without making a fuss about it, slides his cock inside that loosened hole as if he belonged there.
Because of how relaxed Ulysse had ended up with the massage, the thumbs pushing into him had only drawn out a soft moan and a little shiver up his spine, otherwise leaving him still and content to remain so on the bed. But when the mage slides his cock in without much ceremony or warning, Ulysse finds himself arching up a bit with quiet surprise, a gasp choked in his throat as he throws his head back. His fingers hand tightened over the bedding and stayed so even when his back relaxes again.
The man eventually settles back down on the bed again, cheek back to resting on his hands as he takes several slow breaths. The way his ass flutters around Rook is speaking volumes despite the calm facade he's put on. The spike and erratic pulses of pleasure coursing unchecked through the tether Rook had set in place tells the rest whether Ulysse likes to be so exposed or not.
Rook simply buries himself inside Ulysse, groaning a little at the perfect, slick heat of him around Rook's oversensitive flesh. But he leaves it there, just seating himself balls deep inside him and leans forward to continue the massage, his hands kneading steadily Ulysse's neck and upper back, focusing on tense spots and smoothing out knots in muscles.
The fact that Ulysse obviously isn't quite as calm as he would like to portray makes Rook snort softly but not tease him about it. It feels right to be privy of the knowledge but not make it into a thing that Ulysse needs to feel embarrassed about.
Instead he makes it his business to let his hands move all over Ulysse's back, muscles and tendons but also his scars, every last one of them owned slowly and tenderly by rough fingertips.
As the massage continues, Ulysse eventually settles back down, shivering occasionally when Rook shifts in him with his motions. The arousal is of course still there, but it's no longer so erratic or jumpy. It's become more of a steady, warm pulse that thrums between them, letting the man melt down bonelessly against the bed with a quiet moan.
His cheeks might be growing increasingly flushed and his ass continues to give occasionally squeezes around Rook's cock, but otherwise Ulysse is completely relaxed and pliant, content as a cat and all but purring from the attention he's receiving.
Rook watches him stretch on the bed, melt into it. There's a small smile curving his lips, pale but very fond, just a little bit amused by the feline charm of Ulysse's relaxed state. He brings his hands down to Ulysse's ass eventually, continuing to massage his buttocks, spreading him open so he can feel the rim of Ulysse's asshole while he rocks inside the man.
He wonders if he could get a finger or two inside there but doesn't try it just yet. Instead he establishes a slow, slow rhythm, not sliding far out at all before pushing back in fully, nudging himself as deep as he can physically manage. While he presses himself tight against Ulysse's ass he lets his hands slide down to the man's back, pressing him down into the mattress.
Each rocking motion that presses that dick in and out of him in such tiny increments has Ulysse sighing quietly, his fingers flexing over the sheets like a cat kneading its claws. The way he's practically pinned down by those rough hands pressing at his back should make him uncomfortable. It should make him have bad memories of his past, of even the events of that very night...
Instead, it makes him moan quietly, spine arching with the downward slide of Rook's hands. "Are you trying to spoil me?" he asks in his purr of a voice, eyes briefly flicking open as he glances back at the mage.
"Trying?" Rook asks in a low, amused murmur. "I thought I was doing it."
Instead of finding the restraints suffocating and awkward, Ulysse seems to enjoy it. So, Rook slides one of his hands up to the man's neck, pressing the flat of his palm against the nape of his neck and presses him down, holding him down. He lengthens his stride slowly, fucking Ulysse with thorough, long thrusts that end deep within him, completely owning him with each thrust.
He doesn't have to voice the deeply possessive feelings that taking Ulysse like this brings to surface. Their tether is heavy with them, singing with his determination to take care of Ulysse, to bring him pleasure while he's laying down and just taking it.
Rook's possessive desire just wraps around him like a thick blanket, making Ulysse shudder with a pleased little hum, rocking back as best he can into each of those steady thrusts. His own cock is now hard and pressed down against the bed, leaking against the bedsheets as he grinds down against them.
He reaches down with one of his hands, lightly grasping at Rook's knee warmly.
"You're doing a good job of it," he admits with a small smile. He gleams with oil and sweat alike, and his muscles feel pliant and soft, even as he tries to tense with how he's being fucked to just try to push back into those thrusts. But with how Rook's got him held down, there's really not much more he can do than lie back and take it like the spoiled cat of a queen the mage is intent on turning him into.
Ulysse tends to do more than he needs to do when he has the free range do what he thinks he should be doing. Rook isn't much of a people's person but he has one very keen eye when it comes to this cat of a man. He has been paying attention and while Ulysse isn't exactly forthcoming, he isn't impossible to read at all. Rook isn't sure if it's because he doesn't think he deserves the pampering or if it just makes him uncomfortable because he thinks he should be serving others himself.
He doesn't think Ulysse should become a queen who just lazes on a pillow and takes whatever is given to him, but sometimes he should just lay back and let Rook take care of his needs.
Like right now.
He hums as he takes one hand off of Ulysse's back and reaches for the one that is grasping his knee, lacing their fingers together as he presses their hands to the mattress beside Ulysse's shoulder, bowing over him in the process. His weight leans more onto Ulysse's shoulders as he leans in to nose and kiss Ulysse's ear, his thrusts becoming heavier as his point of balance shifts forward.
"Do you feel good?" he asks in a breathy whisper, his tone private and intimate.
There's a quiet choked laugh at that and Ulysse retorts, "Not like you to ask questions you know the answers to..."
His fingers squeeze around Rook's as he pushes back into those heavier thrusts, breath growing faster and more labored. The kiss to his ear makes a little flutter of warmth travel through their tether with a bit of emotion neither of them are ready to address.
Wetting his lips, he gives another squeeze to Rook's fingers and murmurs, "You're making me feel very good."
"Shush," Rook laughs and gently bites Ulysse's earlobe. "Maybe I want to hear you say it."
And he does, and it makes something snap and twang inside Rook, like a cord being pulled taut and released, then stretched out again, this time longer. Something inside him relaxes a little, hollows out to give room for something that he doesn't quite know how to name.
He shifts, giving room for Ulysse to push back more, to gain some ground under his knees. He's still caged right there, between Rook's arms and his legs, exactly where he should be. That hand that was pressing against Ulysse's neck sneaks out to wrap around the man's shoulders, holding him instead as their bodies keep undulating against one another, slow enough that there's no slapping of skin, but hard enough that they might leave marks on each other. Rook's mouth is pressed against Ulysse's ear, breathing roughly as he whispers: "You feel so damn good."
That whisper drags a shiver down Ulysse's spine and he can't help the little groan that escapes his lips. He does his best to use the space he's given to grind back into Rook's hips, meeting those deep thrusts with soft, barely audible grunts.
They've been wrapped up in each other for the past hour at least, and yet it's somehow not enough. Ulysse finds himself turning his head towards that mouth, eyes just a bit dazed and heavily lidded as he murmurs, "I'm asking this time... Kiss me?"
Rook is slowly coming to realise that it might never be enough. He's always going to crave a little bit more, a little bit deeper and harder and... more.
He doesn't hesitate, he doesn't tease, he doesn't even make Ulysse wait for it - he kisses him on the lips. His hand reaches up to cup Ulysse's jaw and tilts it to the side while Rook leans past his shoulder to kiss him deeply, licking into his mouth as if he couldn't breathe without doing it tandem with Ulysse.
The taste of him makes him groan somewhere deep within his throat, his pace broken, driving into Ulysse quicker and harder.
There's an answering moan helplessly voiced into the kiss and Ulysse quivers under Rook, ass tightening for a moment as the pace picks up. His chest feels tight as Rook holds onto him and kisses him like his life depends on it, that need for more echoed from both of them as Ulysse tangles their tongues eagerly, fingers tightening around the mage's and shoving their joined hands down into the mattress.
The tether thrums with their joined emotions, an unspoken plea with just the faintest tint of desperation coming through from Ulysse. There's a madness that threatens to grow with each intoxicating thrust of Rook's hips, with each swipe of his tongue in Ulysse's mouth, doing it's damned best to consume his mind whole. That arm around his shoulders and the hand in his seem to be the only things grounding him.
Ulysse finds himself gasping against the mage's lips, "What... are you doing to me...?"
"Hush," Rook whispers back, his brow pressed tight against Ulysse's as they both pant against one another's mouth. "Don't think."
Just let go.
Rook definitely isn't equipped to deal with the thoughts that are flitting around in his mind, so he decides to put them aside and for the moment just enjoy the immediate sensations and the way they make him feel.
He grabs Ulysse's hand a little tighter and wraps both of their arms around the man, his weight resting on Ulysse's upper back while his thighs work to lift his hips after each plunging thrust.
Ulysse feels as though he's being lightly crushed in the best way possible. He holds Rook's hand tight to his chest, rocking back eagerly into the deep thrusts, the mattress creaking under them. It's a steady, inescapable downward spiral to another climax.
It will be a miracle if either of them are up for returning to the ship early in the morning.
His body shudders and tightens without Ulysse's input, only being wound further and further with each push forward of Rook's hips. After having climaxed twice within the past hour, it's a grueling pace, but there's no way Ulysse will tell Rook to stop. If the mage so much as considered it, he'd find himself pinned on his back and ridden hard.
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perhapstomorrow2020-01-25 10:33 pm
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Truth be told, he hadn't seen anything much interesting in the rest of the crew after seeing Ulysse in that bar. There were other mages, half-mers, things in the crew but no one who was like Ulysse. The man was all about deliberate grace and seductive mystery that got right under Rook's skin. He was a glimmer of gold and smoky scent of incense. He was an addiction and craving in one.
Rook pushes himself up just enough to be able to look at Ulysse's eyes while he lets his hips rock forward, taking his time observing the heat rising up to the man's cheeks again.
"I have high standards," he says in a rough whisper.
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"You're laying with a retired whore, are you sure your standards are that high?" he teases, that husky purr returning to his voice.
There's definitely something... addictive about Rook's attention. That despite being surrounded by a rather exotic cast of characters onboard their ship, some arguably more beautiful or charming or desirable than Ulysse in so many ways, Rook's still focused in on him. It's obviously in part due to the spirit dwelling in him, but even without Rook saying as much, Ulysse knows that's not the only reason.
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"Anyone who disagrees can come talk with me," he says in a low, menacing tone that says clearer than a hundred words that anyone who would dare would find themselves tied to a rock at the bottom of the endless ocean or bleeding in a gutter.
Rook reaches between them and brushes his rough thumb over Ulysse's nipple while he rocks his hips against the man, deliberately hounding him, trying to find that rhythm and angle that will drive him crazy.
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A sharp inhale accompanies that stroke over his nipple and Ulysse arches his spine just a fraction, eyes remaining closed as he savours the sensation. As Rook keeps rocking into him, he finds himself biting his lip, legs loosely wrapping around the mage's waist, inviting him to continue.
There's no way Ulysse would stop him. The heat returning to his cheeks, the way his cock is valiantly trying to harden between them, and his nipples tightening at the teasing touches paint the picture clear enough. He's more than happy to be wrecked by Rook tonight, and he suspects the mage won't have any complaints about Ulysse returning the favour.
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But he's neither and all he can really do is worship with his hands and mouth.
His touch is gentle as he rubs his thumb over the hardening nipple and watches quietly the flush from Ulysse's cheeks to spread down to his neck and shoulders, darkening his complexion faintly.
They're going to be so exhausted when the night is done but Rook honestly wouldn't want it any other way.
He shifts onto his knees, slowly pushing down Ulysse's legs from his hips and moves to straddle his thighs before he pushes himself up on both of his arms, Ulysse caged in between his legs and arms. He leans down to whisper: "Turn around."
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Ultimately, he rolls over, taking his time like a lazy cat and even throwing in a little nip to Rook's wrist and a sly, amused glance over his shoulder before he's resting on his front, scarred back exposed to the mage. Those eye-catching tattoos at his throat don't extend past his nape, either, so there's nothing but Ulysse's hair obscuring a small portion of his scars.
There's the faint jingle of metal as he reaches over to one of Rook's hands, bracelets glinting in the candlelight, fingertips stroking along the mage's knuckles, waiting to see what he's got planned.
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Then he pushes up again and sits on Ulysse's thighs. He reaches for the oil bottle and pours some onto his palm, letting it warm against his skin before he rubs his hands up and down along Ulysse's back, fingers digging into sore muscles all the way up to Ulysse's shoulders that he squeezes between his fingers, kneading the tension away.
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"You're just full of surprises, aren't you?" he hums, lips curling into a brief, fond little smile.
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He focuses on Ulysse's upper back for a while, even dragging his intruding fingers down to the man's arms here and there. Then he moves down, paying attention to his lower back and buttocks. He kneads the thick muscle at Ulysse's ass and slips his thumbs into the man's crack to rub a bit more slick over his hole, a little bit inside him as well.
And when he seems ready to move back up, he sits forward and without making a fuss about it, slides his cock inside that loosened hole as if he belonged there.
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The man eventually settles back down on the bed again, cheek back to resting on his hands as he takes several slow breaths. The way his ass flutters around Rook is speaking volumes despite the calm facade he's put on. The spike and erratic pulses of pleasure coursing unchecked through the tether Rook had set in place tells the rest whether Ulysse likes to be so exposed or not.
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The fact that Ulysse obviously isn't quite as calm as he would like to portray makes Rook snort softly but not tease him about it. It feels right to be privy of the knowledge but not make it into a thing that Ulysse needs to feel embarrassed about.
Instead he makes it his business to let his hands move all over Ulysse's back, muscles and tendons but also his scars, every last one of them owned slowly and tenderly by rough fingertips.
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His cheeks might be growing increasingly flushed and his ass continues to give occasionally squeezes around Rook's cock, but otherwise Ulysse is completely relaxed and pliant, content as a cat and all but purring from the attention he's receiving.
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He wonders if he could get a finger or two inside there but doesn't try it just yet. Instead he establishes a slow, slow rhythm, not sliding far out at all before pushing back in fully, nudging himself as deep as he can physically manage. While he presses himself tight against Ulysse's ass he lets his hands slide down to the man's back, pressing him down into the mattress.
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Instead, it makes him moan quietly, spine arching with the downward slide of Rook's hands. "Are you trying to spoil me?" he asks in his purr of a voice, eyes briefly flicking open as he glances back at the mage.
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Instead of finding the restraints suffocating and awkward, Ulysse seems to enjoy it. So, Rook slides one of his hands up to the man's neck, pressing the flat of his palm against the nape of his neck and presses him down, holding him down. He lengthens his stride slowly, fucking Ulysse with thorough, long thrusts that end deep within him, completely owning him with each thrust.
He doesn't have to voice the deeply possessive feelings that taking Ulysse like this brings to surface. Their tether is heavy with them, singing with his determination to take care of Ulysse, to bring him pleasure while he's laying down and just taking it.
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He reaches down with one of his hands, lightly grasping at Rook's knee warmly.
"You're doing a good job of it," he admits with a small smile. He gleams with oil and sweat alike, and his muscles feel pliant and soft, even as he tries to tense with how he's being fucked to just try to push back into those thrusts. But with how Rook's got him held down, there's really not much more he can do than lie back and take it like the spoiled cat of a queen the mage is intent on turning him into.
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He doesn't think Ulysse should become a queen who just lazes on a pillow and takes whatever is given to him, but sometimes he should just lay back and let Rook take care of his needs.
Like right now.
He hums as he takes one hand off of Ulysse's back and reaches for the one that is grasping his knee, lacing their fingers together as he presses their hands to the mattress beside Ulysse's shoulder, bowing over him in the process. His weight leans more onto Ulysse's shoulders as he leans in to nose and kiss Ulysse's ear, his thrusts becoming heavier as his point of balance shifts forward.
"Do you feel good?" he asks in a breathy whisper, his tone private and intimate.
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His fingers squeeze around Rook's as he pushes back into those heavier thrusts, breath growing faster and more labored. The kiss to his ear makes a little flutter of warmth travel through their tether with a bit of emotion neither of them are ready to address.
Wetting his lips, he gives another squeeze to Rook's fingers and murmurs, "You're making me feel very good."
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And he does, and it makes something snap and twang inside Rook, like a cord being pulled taut and released, then stretched out again, this time longer. Something inside him relaxes a little, hollows out to give room for something that he doesn't quite know how to name.
He shifts, giving room for Ulysse to push back more, to gain some ground under his knees. He's still caged right there, between Rook's arms and his legs, exactly where he should be. That hand that was pressing against Ulysse's neck sneaks out to wrap around the man's shoulders, holding him instead as their bodies keep undulating against one another, slow enough that there's no slapping of skin, but hard enough that they might leave marks on each other. Rook's mouth is pressed against Ulysse's ear, breathing roughly as he whispers: "You feel so damn good."
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They've been wrapped up in each other for the past hour at least, and yet it's somehow not enough. Ulysse finds himself turning his head towards that mouth, eyes just a bit dazed and heavily lidded as he murmurs, "I'm asking this time... Kiss me?"
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He doesn't hesitate, he doesn't tease, he doesn't even make Ulysse wait for it - he kisses him on the lips. His hand reaches up to cup Ulysse's jaw and tilts it to the side while Rook leans past his shoulder to kiss him deeply, licking into his mouth as if he couldn't breathe without doing it tandem with Ulysse.
The taste of him makes him groan somewhere deep within his throat, his pace broken, driving into Ulysse quicker and harder.
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The tether thrums with their joined emotions, an unspoken plea with just the faintest tint of desperation coming through from Ulysse. There's a madness that threatens to grow with each intoxicating thrust of Rook's hips, with each swipe of his tongue in Ulysse's mouth, doing it's damned best to consume his mind whole. That arm around his shoulders and the hand in his seem to be the only things grounding him.
Ulysse finds himself gasping against the mage's lips, "What... are you doing to me...?"
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Just let go.
Rook definitely isn't equipped to deal with the thoughts that are flitting around in his mind, so he decides to put them aside and for the moment just enjoy the immediate sensations and the way they make him feel.
He grabs Ulysse's hand a little tighter and wraps both of their arms around the man, his weight resting on Ulysse's upper back while his thighs work to lift his hips after each plunging thrust.
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It will be a miracle if either of them are up for returning to the ship early in the morning.
His body shudders and tightens without Ulysse's input, only being wound further and further with each push forward of Rook's hips. After having climaxed twice within the past hour, it's a grueling pace, but there's no way Ulysse will tell Rook to stop. If the mage so much as considered it, he'd find himself pinned on his back and ridden hard.
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