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☏ call. ≔ text. 💻 video. ✘ action.

[ john was never one to fully appreciate a quick act for the sake of getting your release over and done with. it's why he so often liked to worm his way at least a little into the affections of others, into their good graces, so that it seemed worth spending time to draw it out. it helped that he generally knew what he was doing, too, when it came to sex. he wouldn't mind that, fucking until dawn, fucking until they could barely keep their eyes open and then do it all again after sleeping. it's all time that he doesn't have to spend alone. hours sleeping in bed with company are hours that he won't have when he's by himself.

the satisfaction that floods john as cassidy grips his hair and really, truly gets going is obscene. his knees feel unsteady for a moment as he finally gives in to the need to touch himself, slipping a hand down beneath his shorts to take hold of his slick, almost sore cock and pump his hand over it a few times just to feed the desire, staying still for cassidy, breathing regularly and carefully through his nose. the way cassidy's cock slides between his lips is absolutely ideal.

reluctant to release his own cock, now, john contents himself with keeping just one hand dug into the flesh of cassidy's arse. as the momentum picks up, as he listens to the sound cassidy makes, john grips his skin harder for a moment before moving his hand to press a finger between his cheeks, teasingly brushing against him, groaning around cassidy's cock, almost coming himself when he hears the noise that cassidy makes, when john's nose is pressed against his skin, when he has cassidy in his mouth up to the hilt.

christ, how he loves to be the cause of these sounds. ]

[ oh, john certainly knows what he's doing. cassidy would be the first to agree. it's part of the reason he wouldn't mind losing time with him, hours, even half a day (or an entire day). he'd claim it was the whole reason, but deep down he knows it's not. john has done exactly what he so often likes to do and stolen his way into cassidy's affections. that's why a text from him at four in the morning brings a smile to cassidy's face before he even knows the reason for the message.

considering their (very brief) history, however, it wouldn't have been difficult to guess to reason. their intentions towards each other have never been anything but clear. it doesn't go unnoticed when john's hand disappears into his shorts and the sight sends a shock of heat through cassidy's system. as much as he wishes it were his hand doing the job, watching john do it himself and knowing the cause was the act of sucking him off is just as satisfying in its own way.

almost too satisfying. he nearly comes when john teases his ass, letting out a strangled moan and a curse. he draws back, pressing against that finger, until the head of his cock rests against john's bottom lip. the next few thrusts are quick and shallow before his fingers tighten in john's hair and he pushes all the way in again, down his throat. ] How's that? [ his voice is a low rasp. ] Deep enough for you?

[ precariously close to the edge, he pulls back and pauses to catch his breath. ]

Look at me. [ he tilts john's head, bringing one of his hands down from his hair, his thumb brushing the corner of his mouth where it's stretched around his cock. ] You wanna fuck me? [ it's a rhetorical question. he knows john does. ] You want me to come down your throat first? Or you want to be a bloody bastard and make me wait?

[ the way cassidy moves his cock in john's mouth makes him groan and his shoulders shiver. pressing his finger against cassidy's entrance, he doesn't try anything too adventurous yet. there's more than enough time for that. the drag of his palm on his own cock is rough, needy. he wants to fuck cassidy so, so badly, his own need starting to override his desire to please the young man.

it shouldn't be so easy to find himself here. this is always john's problem, always his trouble, the fact that he should find a reason to think and hesitate before he solicits sex from people he's fond of, and for christ's sake, he shouldn't damn well be fond of him in the first place. his knees ache slightly from the floor beneath, and his back arches, his body dipping down as he grips himself harder in his hand, almost painfully. ]

I want to hear those sounds you make when you come, feel your body tremble beneath my hands and then do it all over again when I fuck you. [ his eyes never leave cassidy's as he speaks, pausing only to suck softly on the head of him. ] So I won't make you wait. I'll just make it happen over and over again.

[ his voice slows as he says "over and over" and there's not much time for cassidy to reply, because john sinks down over him again, taking his hand off his cock and gripping cassidy's hips as he takes him deep in his mouth, taking over the duties of it. he's given cassidy enough power recently; it's time to take it back. he won't stop until cassidy is done, until he can feel the warmth of him in the back of his throat, until he's sensitive and shaking from it and can barely take it anymore. ]

[ if anyone could make him come just by talking to him, it would be john. as if the sound of his voice weren't erotic enough, the words he says – the images he creates in cassidy's head – are downright obscene. he doesn't come yet but it's a near thing, especially when john dips his head mid-speech to tease him. his hips jerk in response, an involuntary reaction because his mind is elsewhere, playing out the idea of john fucking him while he's still sated and sensitive from coming once, fucking him until he hardens and comes a second time, then doing it all again.

over and over again. he won't forget the sound of those words anytime soon.

he only returns to the present when john takes him back in his mouth, and his fingers tighten in john's hair and his head tips back and a hot, needy moan is torn from his throat. his hips rock forward, though it's clear john has the control now and frankly, cassidy is happy to give it to him. he's reaching a point where he might give john just about anything he asked for.

pushing his fingers through john's hair, he tilts his head down again to watch, his breathing ragged. ] Over and over again, huh? Can you— ah, recover that fast? [ he doesn't say old man, but it's implied in his tone, in the way his lips tick upwards at the corner.

that self-assured smile doesn't last for long, though, since each time john sinks down and sucks back up it brings him closer and closer, his noises growing more desperate, his chest rising and falling more rapidly. ] Fuck, fuck... John.

[ christ above, john needs to start telling people about his telepathy. it always made it so convenient, the opportunity to keep whispering filthy things to whoever he's gone down on, even though his mouth is occupied. he doesn't answer, this time, because he doesn't want to break the rhythm, so all he does is raise his brows, looking up at cassidy from beneath his lashes, cheeks hollowing sharply for a moment as his lips tighten around his cock. he waits for cassidy to catch his gaze before lowering it again, a gaze that says it all, that promises cassidy he can recover that quickly. he digs his fingers harder into cassidy's hip, possibly enough to bruise, later, or at the very least leave flushed red marks from his nails.

with a casual sort of deftness, a ridiculous and stupid confidence in himself that he knows what he's doing (as if cassidy's not making that clear enough as it is), he makes two shallow, short movements before sliding all the way down again, agonisingly staying there for just a moment. a moment that he takes to watch cassidy squirm, his body reacting on impulse and lust. it's so satisfying. his own cock twitches, and he moans softly, subdued around cassidy, part of it involuntary and part of it purposeful. he vastly enjoys the way cassidy says his name, the way it trips and stumbles out of his mouth when he's so, so close to coming. john's always pretty ambivalent about people coming in his mouth until the moment that it's almost or has happened, and in that moment the vaguely smug pleasure of making someone else come kicks in.

if john knew exactly how much cassidy liked his talk, he probably wouldn't last long enough right now to get around to fucking him.

he'll stay there until the young man can barely take it anymore, lick him clean and slow down, soften the movements of his tongue and mouth on cassidy's cock until it's a whisper of a touch, but just enough, all the same, to keep him trembling. almost too much, but not quite. and when he feels cassidy's body slump, sink against the wall, he'll know it's time to press on. ]

[ if there are bruises left behind by john's fingers, cassidy will wear them gladly. civilized society already considers him an animal, and in this at least they're not wrong. he just likes having the reminder days later, so he can look at them and remember john's hands on his hips, holding him steady as he surrounded cassidy with the tight, wet heat of his mouth. those two shallow bobs cause him to teeter, but it's when john sinks all the way down again and fucking moans that he finally goes over the edge.

his body goes tight as a bowstring and he tries to pull john's head away as he draws his hips back, but he doesn't get far before he's coming on john's tongue, crying out a litany of curses and wordless moans, punctuated by gasps. as the waves of pleasure ebb, he drops back against the wall, one hand splayed on it for added balance, left panting as the fingers of his other hand comb through john's hair where he'd been grabbing it. ]

Fuck.

[ a smile tugs up the corners of his lips as he tips his head back. the way john continues to tease him sends shocks of nearly painful pleasure down his spine and wrings a few more quiet moans from him. his legs might actually shake a little as he struggles to stay upright against the gentle onslaught, until he gives john's hair another tug to interrupt the caresses of his tongue. ] Christ... Enough! [ he laughs softly. ] Enough.

[ john resists, just slightly, when cassidy tries to pull him back. the sudden spike in heat and salt in his mouth is of no concern to him, he relishes openly in having brought cassidy this far, even if it's not for the first time. he obliges quickly, though, when the young man pulls at his hair, a wild grin emerging on his face as soon as his lips finally slip away from cassidy's cock.

he stands slowly enough that he can kiss his way back up cassidy's stomach, the line of his sternum and up his neck, curving his body inwards against the young man without grazing their hips, conscious of cassidy's sensitivity more so than the ache he's feeling. having relegated his hands to touching cassidy and subsequently pulling his own shorts off entirely, kicking them aside, his own cock is left to need and neglect, but it will only make fucking cassidy that much sweeter. his palms slide and press against cassidy's sides, his voice quiet but rough. ]

Enough? [ the flash of his teeth is as coy as it is promising, electrified and even more enthralled now by this that he already was. ] Darling, I've only just started with you.

[ it would probably be manhandling if john wasn't so damn elegant about it. he steps away from cassidy, but takes his hand to pull him away from the wall, towards him, smoothly taking his waist and twisting him around to face the bedroom. it's kind of like a dance routine, one that they've both experienced enough times. with his chest pressed against cassidy's back, he grinds his hips forward, sliding the firm, damp weight of his cock against cassidy's arse as he nudges him towards the bed. patience is not a virtue that john can boast about, but sometimes, he has a handle on it. just enough. when the want to get his mouth on cassidy again is strong enough to override the already overwhelming need to get right down to a good fuck. ]

[ wherever john puts his lips and hands on the way back up leaves a bloom of tingling warmth behind, and by the time he's standing cassidy feels it all over. as john strips out of his shorts, cassidy shoves his sweatpants the rest of the way down and kicks them off. glancing down, he takes in the blessed sight of john's cock and his mouth nearly waters when he remembers the taste of it, the weight on his tongue, sliding between his lips. it's all he can do to keep from touching it now, getting his hand around it and relishing the heft in his palm.

but then, a mark on john's hip grabs his attention, which leads him to notice other marks he was too ... distracted to notice before. john's sporting quite a few, such that cassidy might think he'd been in a scrap – might, if he didn't know exactly how one acquires marks such as those. and it's not from getting punched in the chest or knocked to the ground.

a smirk flicks the corner of his lips, and he'd comment on it if john didn't choose that moment to speak. so, cassidy settles for a knowing look, a silent promise to return to it later.

the sound of john's voice sparks against cassidy's nerves, lights a fire in his veins. reminds him of an itch that still needs scratching. honestly, he doesn't mind being manhandled, but he really likes the way john does it, exactly like a dance. the only kind of dance in which cassidy has any talent. when john grinds against him, his eyes roll shut and his head drops back, his breath shuddering as he exhales. god, he needs john to be fucking him yesterday. ]

Yeah? [ he raises one arm, bends his elbow and threads his fingers through john's hair. a grin plays across his lips, his voice low. ] We'll see how long you last once you're inside me.

[ his hand trails down from john's hair and twists to grab his wrist instead, and he laces their fingers as he leads john to the bed and climbs on. ]

[ freedom from all clothing is quite the relief, right now, even if john's shorts hadn't been of the most restrictive material. there's a sense of liberation in the body, all over the skin, to be completely naked, especially in the company of people around whom you're not very shy. not that john's shy around anyone, really, but sometimes a little more comfort creeps into the action that just trying to pull off being sexually impressive in some capacity.

he's practically forgotten his souvenirs from his time with daphne himself, if only from the sheer distraction of cassidy being naked and very much in touching distance. as they move towards the bed, john presses his nose into his hair, breathing in the scent of him, of cleanliness and of the faint musk that follows people around when they're aroused.

just before the bed, when cassidy speaks, john stops him, holding him tight against his body. equal parts the sheer pleasure and enjoyment of having a taut, stupidly handsome body in such devastating close proximity to your own, and also to maintain that sense of challenge, the push and pull they give each other.

the hand that isn't entwined with cassidy's slides upwards to curl into the young man's hair, tugging back on it firmly but with no intention to cause pain, just so that cassidy would lean his head back and expose the plane of his neck to him. john trails his mouth roughly over his skin, scraping teeth as his muffled voice teasingly, distracted continues to chatter even though mind and body are in an awkward entanglement currently. ]

What, you think I want you that badly? [ as if he doesn't punctuate the sentence with another grind of his hips against cassidy's arse, as if a soft groan doesn't quickly spill out of his mouth afterwards. ] I can't imagine what gave you that impression.

[ only now does john let cassidy onto the bed, reluctantly releasing both his hair and his hand, pressing the palm against the small of his back to encourage him to lie flat on his stomach. he positions one knee between cassidy's thighs, leaning forward to run both hands down cassidy's sides as he peppers a trail of kisses down his back, along his spine, taking his time to nose and explore this line of skin. ]

Such confidence you have.

[ as his kisses lower, so do his hands, and when they've made their way all the way down cassidy's thighs, john's body has slide down so that he is positioned neatly where his knee had been before. his breath is warm against cassidy's hot skin. his tongue warmer still as it laps against cassidy's entrance in a way that could almost be described as lazy. ]

[ despite being from the seventeenth century, when men and women tend to cover themselves more than they do in the modern era, cassidy is entirely comfortable in his own skin. he prefers wearing as few clothes as a situation permits, but that's the pirate in him. on land, he likes to dress up just to show off his ill-begotten finery, not out of any sense of modesty. and of course, in a time without sunblock, clothing is often the foremost line of defense against sunburn. that doesn't stop him from removing his shirt and shoes on the long, lazy days at sea, and when they go swimming they usually do so naked.

but his favorite place to be naked is in the presence of someone to whom he is extremely attracted. he's especially appreciative of the lack of clothes when john holds him against his body and they're skin-to-skin and he can feel every line and contour of john's front along his back. it doesn't take much for john to tip his head back, he's still so sated from his orgasm his movements are rather like a rag doll's. the scrape of john's teeth on his neck sends a shiver down his spine and causes a hitch in his breath. but it's the feel of john grinding against his ass that makes him moan, his jaw tight as he refrains from reaching back for john's cock and putting it in himself. he's not exactly ready for it, but at this point he'd take it anyway.

fortunately, they're on the bed before he loses that self-control, and cassidy stretches out on his stomach as john wordlessly instructed. he retrieves the knife from under his pillow (sheathed) and tosses it on the floor before shoving his arms back under the pillow, bunching it beneath his head as he gets comfortable. he hums appreciatively as john trails his mouth down his back, lazy waves of pleasure rolling through him. a smile curves his lips. ]

Mm, I know you do. You wouldn't be here if you didn't.

[ honestly, it's only going to boost his confidence if john's messaging him in the middle of the night for a fuck. he might've said something else, too, if john weren't then sliding down, settling between his thighs, and–

oh. ] Fuck.

[ the reaction is instantaneous and racks his whole body, his muscles coiling, his fingers clenching the underside of the pillow. he inhales deeply and his lips part in a silent moan, before he lets the breath go in a rush. he's still sensitive enough that john's tongue there is almost too much. he feels a tightening in the pit of his stomach, though he can't possibly get hard again so soon. even so... he bends one of his legs, bringing his knee higher to spread himself wider. don't stop. ]

[ he can't help snorting with laughter at the sight of cassidy tossing a sheathed knife out of the way, not even remotely surprised by its presence beneath the young man's pillow. he went through a similar phase, once, though admittedly with a gun and not a knife. another time, though, for sharp objects being held at one's neck.

of course john wants to be here. he's spent most of his life always being where he wants to be, never sticking around the places he doesn't, but knowing what it's like to be trapped is still fresh in his mind, even though he's been here for months. knowing that you don't want to be in your own home, the home you have loved and cared for and built long enough to make your own, feeling like a ghost in its corridors, resenting all the things you used to adore about it. the solidity, the safety of it, all gone. while he's been here in eudio, john's made something of a point of only doing what he wants. obligations haven't come into any part of it. the freedom of choice and movement is all that he has needed, and it feels so good, when he doesn't mire himself down in guilt for being here and for being fractionally happy.

but that's not what he's thinking about right now. far from it.

idly, he strokes the back of cassidy's thigh, brushing his fingers up and down in a way that could almost be termed as affectionate. rolling his hips down, he slides his cock against the bed, aching and needing, but not enough yet to give himself the attention he's craving. times like these are practically the only ones when john is actually quiet, diligent in his attentions to other people, tongue drifting in lazy, purposeful circles around cassidy.

the gentle stroking comes to an end, however, when john's hand catches against the back of the young man's knee and pushes it up that little bit higher as he sinks lower, licking down his perineum until he's teasing a little at cassidy's balls. you know, just to double check how that sensitivity is going. once he's satisfied with this, his entire body shifts and rises. he needs to get the essentials ready.

again, as he moves up the bed and over cassidy, john slides his body against him, cock hard and a little wet as it teases between the man's cheeks, mouth and tongue sliding in a lazy collection of bites and kisses up cassidy's back. until he's back by cassidy's ear, breathing soft but shallow against it, not uttering a word, pulling at his lobe with his teeth. revelling in the silence, as he stretches an arm across to wrestle with the bedside drawer where he knows cassidy keeps lubricant and condoms. a silent "thank you, freddie baxter" passes through his mind, and it makes him smile a little.

he could go back down again, pleasure cassidy with his mouth, but he rather likes where he is now. he rises only enough so that he can move his hands into a position where he can squeeze lube onto his fingertips. ]

So, Captain, [ he murmurs, low and gravelly into cassidy's ear, ] Tell me what it is you want.

[ with that, a slick finger presses at cassidy's arse, but agonisingly, goes no further into him. not until he hears it come from the man himself. ]

[ the freedom to do what he wants is a large part of why cassidy turned pirate. for most men, freedom is as much a lure to piracy as gold. it's a bit of a double-edged sword, though, because a pirate is free only so long as he isn't caught. often it means he can't return to civilization and whatever home or family he might've had there. for some, it isn't a problem; for some, it's a welcome reprieve. for others, it's a cause of many drunken nights. and it's the reason cassidy hasn't had anywhere to call home for a long time, the reason he sleeps with a knife under his pillow. the closest thing he has to home is his ship, and aside from that nassau's inn where his rapport with the owner guarantees him him a room... six out of ten times. a pirate is a vagabond.

that was one of the biggest adjustments he had to make in eudio. electricity and running water aside, the strangest thing about the apartment was just having it at all. a single, unchanging place he was meant to stay, a place he could wake up in every morning and return to every night if he so chose (he often didn't at first, just from the mere strangeness of it, and opted instead to pass out in bars or on park benches, or camp out on the beach). since then, he's gotten more comfortable with sleeping in his own bed. there are perks to having a stationary home. he doesn't have to carry his belongings with him everywhere he goes, for one, though he still tends to bring most of them anyway out of habit. he can have more than one outfit. he can store food in his kitchen and even keep it from spoiling too quickly by using the refrigerator.

and, not least of all, when someone wants to find him in the middle of the night for a tumble in the sheets, they know where to look.

that last one seems the most important right now, as john hitches his knee higher, spreading him wider, and trails his mouth lower. cassidy squirms and makes a noise that is not a whine, but might be compared to one, as he feels a sharp stab of pleasure from john licking that place between his balls and his ass that's already sensitive, usually, without him being overstimulated on top of it. he makes that noise again, breathless, as john goes ever lower, and squirms again. ] Jesus— fuck, John. You're an utter bastard.

[ he might've even reached back and pushed john's head away, if john didn't choose that moment to move up cassidy's body. he breathes out, tingling all over, faintly dizzy from the headiness of it as john kisses up his back and bites his ear, his cock so close to where he wants it. so close he aches, his want bordering on need. his low, dissatisfied groan is half-muffled by the pillow. a shiver races down his spine as john speaks against his ear, and he tries to push back against that finger but he doesn't get far with john caging him in.

when john asks him that question, he turns his face into the pillow and whatever he says next is muffled so badly as to be incomprehensible. ]

[ having a home, a space of your own to return to, it's always been something that john has appreciated in life. though his home life had been reasonably charmed and by no means difficult, he had absolutely leapt at the chance to live on his own once he had graduated university. he didn't even care that it meant starting off in an absolute shithole in south london with damp and peeling paint and included furniture that would fall apart if you so much as brushed your finger along it. it didn't matter, because he could call it his and always have that to come back to. that's why it galls and pains him so much that the house he has called his home for almost ten years is now so suffused with discomfort and hurt. why he although he tries to keep himself detached from his eudio apartment, he still layers it with aspects of himself. covers it in books and little whimsical decorations that make it homely.

having a home is like having a harbour to return to, and until a few years ago, john had never realised that people could be exactly the same. how a harbour needed more than just your creature comforts sometimes, but also the familiarity of someone who was happy to welcome you back. it's not surprising, really, that he twists and charms his way into the affections and good graces of others, as much as he can. lots of harbours, trying to stake a gentle enough claim in each that they are all welcoming; but none of them home.

it's not the best means of coping, and not exactly fair on others, but it's all that john really knows. ]

Sorry, what was that? [ cassidy's protests essentially fall on deaf ears. the young man will be able to feel the curve of john's smile as he murmurs against cassidy's nape, nosing at the line where his hair begins. his finger trails lazily, still not pushing, not giving cassidy what he wants. he's astonished, frankly, by his own patience, considering how ridiculously hard he is right now and how badly he just wants to fuck him. ] Come on, Cassidy. You know what I want.

[ the hand that's propping john up at cassidy's side shifts upwards, until it can wriggle under the pillow to find and catch the pirate's hand. pulling it out from where it's hidden, john's hand closes down over it, curling his fingers between cassidy's, pressing it down into the bedsheets. in between all the immeasurable, awful teasing, it's a little sign of affection, a wordless comment on the fact that he might be pulling out all the terrible stops right now, but he's always there to put back together whoever he unravels. the kisses he presses to cassidy's cheek are soft. ]

I want you around me, tight and hot. I want your back to arch against me, a tremble in your knees as your breath hitches and you say my name. [ he gives cassidy just a little, pushing in with the very tip of the his finger, though it doesn't last. he withdraws it almost as quickly as he introduces it. ] So I'll ask you again, darling. What do you want?

[ though cassidy's come to accept his apartment as his own, it still only bears small traces of him. the drawer full of limes in the refrigerator, open boxes of sugar cereals that he's recently discovered on the counter, a growing collection of alcohol on the kitchen table along with groceries he never bothered to give a proper place. abandoned clothes draped over the couch arm in the living room, and in the bedroom, sparse papers strewn about the desk, hand-drawn maps and star charts and a couple sketches. he keeps his frock coat draped over the back of the desk chair, his hat set at a jaunty angle on one corner, his belt with his pistol and cutlass on the seat.

other than that, the walls, shelves, and most of the flat surfaces remain bare, failing to reflect their vibrant, borderline flamboyant, but ultimately temporary owner. it's the temporary part that's the key. cassidy doesn't want to settle in too deeply, lest he forget that he can't stay forever.

it's his relationships that are fast making this strange city feel a little like home. faces he's used to seeing, voices he's used to hearing. skin he's used to touching. it's becoming a little like nassau, but cleaner, brighter, and with far fewer prostitutes. he didn't mean to form attachments. he'd never needed them before, though he did, secretly, appreciate returning to the same port after a week or several weeks at sea and being greeted by the same faces. the same barkeeps and tavern wenches, the same fences and fellow pirates. at least with john, he can almost entirely blame it on that sentimental idiot, his charm, and his romantic sensibilities.

he can blame it on the way john's hand seeks his under the pillow and draws it out into the light, fingers slotted together. john's hand isn't as soft as some others he's felt, but it's still softer than his own, and warm. familiar. as familiar as the lips on his cheek, the voice in his ear. they're his own kind of creature comforts.

but they don't negate what a bastard john is. cassidy bites back a whimper as john's finger teases him, pushing in too shallow and too brief. a pitiful noise still escapes him, sounding in his throat. (a complete bastard.) he turns his cheek under john's lips, twists until his mouth is free of the pillow and he can see john from the corner of his eye. ] Fuck you. [ it's low and gravelly, almost a growl. ] You know what I want.

[ his fingers tighten around john's. ]

I want the same things you want. Only, I don't want to talk about it, you lousy cur. I want to fucking do it. So... [ he pushes back against john's finger, insistent, impatient- ] shut your fucking mouth and fuck me.

[ with all the people he has brought to his bed and then never seen again, john should be better at being distant. at being charming without being too meaningful, giving himself enough depth for others to explore without seeming shallow and dull, but without giving himself away. he used to be so good at it. is that a sign of age, the simple way he falls into like, so to speak, with people here as though it's nothing. maybe it's what isaac did to him. gave him someone to come back to, someone to actually love, as easily as they ever skipped around the subject, avoided it as though it didn't existed even though it lay in bed with them every quiet sunday morning they shared together.

john wishes he didn't care. but as much as he tells himself that he picked cassidy's number out of his phone tonight for practicality, for the fact that he thinks they are both quite suited to this business of being casual about their partners, but now that he's here, he knows he cares a little more than he should. he knows that he cares about several people here far more than he should. but he tells himself that the pleasure rippling through him at the pathetically attractive sound that cassidy makes is the same kind of pleasure he'd get from doing this to anyone. ]

Now, now. [ with that, john dips his finger into cassidy properly, at long last, twisting and crooking, his nose pressing along the line of the young man's cheek until their mouths meet again in a brief but firm kiss that muffles the words that john mumbles against them. ] There's no need for that kind of language, is there?

[ if cassidy has an answer to that, it will have to wait until john is done with kissing him again. properly, this time. he doesn't care that his neck strains a little with the angle, all he wants is the taste of cassidy's mouth and the press of his tongue, coaxing and encouraging cassidy to turn his head and receive this movement that borders on apologetic in the way that john opens his mouth to him, pliantly, as though it's cassidy in control and not the other way around. steadily, john fucks him with his finger, alternative the rhythm between a smooth middle ground and something a little rougher, a little more telling of his own need. sweat is gathering between them where their skin slides together, heat that radiates from the activity of their bodies, and sometimes, john likes to think, heat that generates figuratively through the dialogue of possibility, of sex, coming into tangible existence.

gently, at first, john introduces a second finger to the first, his mouth still on cassidy's as he does so, starved of contact like a man in a desert without water. the pace of his fingers quickens and he groans softly as he feels his own cock twitch slightly, and he leans back from the kiss only to bite down on his lip a little, eyes squeezed shut for a moment before he opens his mouth to speak, sounding breathless. his tone has effortlessly gone from seeming sultry and filthy to something far gentler, something that cassidy won't have heard before. he makes requests that aren't requests at all, but the words seem so soft in his mouth, so plaintive and careful, like he's handling something so beautiful beneath his hands (which he is). ]

Lie on your back for me, Cassidy.

[ caring more than he should is what gets cassidy into trouble. it's dangerous to care too much in what is quite literally a cutthroat trade. everything is temporary in a pirate town. people appear and disappear like castles in the sand, and all the time you spent cultivating a relationship can be dissolved in an instant by the ocean. and god forbid you let your guard down around anyone. if someone you trusted betrays you, it's your fault for trusting them in the first place. that's not to say cassidy doesn't have people he trusts, but they're a small group, and their bonds were formed over time by blood, sweat, and tears. he gives the impression of trusting the rest of his crew, enough to get them to trust him in return, but in truth he trusts most of them as far as he can throw them.

casual is better. casual is easier. he's very much like john, or the way john used to be, changing bed partners as often as the tides change. when he was younger, his mother entertained the idea of him settling down with a nice, respectable girl one day and having a family. she'd even had a particular girl in mind up until the day he left. the thought of settling down, of having a family, of having anyone that ties him to shore, interests him as little now as it did then. maybe one day he'll grow out of it, but it's just as likely he'll be dead before that day ever comes. and then he'll be someone's lost connection.

a pirate isn't meant to be moored, or so he tells himself. and as long as he doesn't dwell on the comfort and familiarity he feels in john's presence, he can keep telling himself that. as long as it's always fun, what's the harm?

and even as he complains, swearing a blue streak about john's unbearable teasing, it is fun. it's a game, and games are meant to be fun. whatever string of curses cassidy might've uttered next are aborted when john covers his mouth with his, and by that point john's fucking him properly with his finger, eliminating his need to complain any further.

instead, he moans into the kiss, pushing back as john thrusts forward. a smile curves his lips, forcing him to break the kiss for all of a moment, and in the space he mutters, ] You fucking bastard, [ in response to be chided for his language, but it's wrapped in a playful tone. he rekindles the kiss, just as hungry for it. heat races down his spine and coils at the bottom, the glide of skin against highly sensitive skin glorious. he realizes he's half-hard again and doesn't know when that happened. he becomes aware when his cock twitches as the second finger is added, and he feeds another pleased noise into john's mouth. though john seems to be giving him control of the kiss or perhaps because of it, the kiss is sloppy. cassidy has very little control over what his body is doing anymore. even the way his fingers squeeze john's is unconscious.

and when john gives that instruction, the tone of his voice tugs on something in cassidy's chest and suddenly it doesn't feel so much like a game anymore. he lets out a breath, his heart hammering for no good reason, and then slides his knees out from under him and turns onto his back. his eyes never leave john's face. despite the change in tone, he still tries to joke, ] Going to fuck me like a proper woman?

[ for all that john starts to care, he's mercifully (unhealthily) good at bottling it up. he's pushed feelings he's had for someone for seven years so deep into the recesses of what he qualifies as "transient liaisons" that the realisation of its permanence almost destroyed him, broke him down into pieces that he barely managed to pick up off the floor before he came here, and still he tries to blame himself for letting it matter, for letting it be one sided when it was no such thing. he tells himself that he's still over-reacting, as if someone you love threatening to kill you isn't a big deal. he treats every lingering thought as a product of sexual desire, casual interest, but it's not that, not really. he desperately needs something stable, but he won't accept it. he can't. not when the closest thing he once had to stable fell apart the way it did, and proved itself to be as untrustworthy as he ever thought it to be.

he'll sweep it all under the rug until there's a lumpen mound that he can no longer cross, and at that juncture, he won't know what to do with any of the things he's been trying his hardest to ignore. he wears the denial like it's the height of fashion.

grinning a little at the pointed way in which cassidy swears, john adds a bite to the kiss, catching the young man's lip between his teeth, chuckling softly. he should have expected that, cassidy being as he is, and yet the retort still catches him just a little bit off guard. enough to amuse him. the messiness of the kiss doesn't concern him, for his concentration is in too many places at once to care, and because it remains enjoyable all the same, the obvious hunger that passes between them only sets him more into motion as he flicks his wrist slightly to twist his fingers into cassidy. he ducks under the swing of cassidy's legs, fingers not leaving him, smiling just a little smugly at the sight of the other man growing hard again. it reminds him exactly how long he's been aching to fuck him. ]

Oh, of course. [ he ducks down to take cassidy's chin between his fingers, and that soft, meaningful tone has disappeared into the wind as quickly as it arrived, replaced instead by sultry amusement. ] Only the best for a well-to-do lady such as yourself.

[ but it's still there in the way that john leans down to kiss him yet again, a different kind of need that creeps into the pressure of their mouths, though it could easily be lost in the way that he takes cassidy behind the knee and hitches his leg up. with a sideways inclination of his head, gesturing to the bedside drawer and the condoms, he murmurs, ] If you wouldn't mind doing the honours, please.

[ as a person with experience with someone you love trying to kill you, cassidy can say for certain that whatever john's feeling is absolutely not an overreaction. or, he would if he hadn't made an unspoken pact with himself to not open that box ever again. for all intents and purposes, he left it on that spit of land where he'd been stranded. he left it with the blood that had dripped steadily onto the sand from the gash in his arm, courtesy of a shot from the pistol of someone he loved. he left it with the part of himself that thought it was okay to let someone get that close to him. and the man who sailed away from that island days later told himself, never again. the experience had tempered him the way the harshest of conditions temper a blade, but it hadn't made him cold. rather, his anger and his hatred for that person fueled a fire in him that's kept him going ever since.

it's not a healthy lifestyle by any means, but the steady diet of rum and tobacco, not to mention the near constant exposure to danger, have already ruined him for that.

maybe it's the need to forget the past and the ones who've harmed them that brings them together. maybe they've run from those ghosts straight into each other. there's nothing wrong in that, is there? it's all about mutual benefit, nothing more. at least, that's what cassidy will keep telling himself because like hell he's going to repeat the mistakes of his past. it doesn't matter, anyway, because regardless of what develops between them, eventually they'll both return to their own homes and be once more separated by a gulf of three-hundred years, and it will be as if they never met at all.

(and yet, something tells him that even after he goes home to the west indies, he'll remember the sound of john's laugh against his lips, that stupidly smug grin, and the way he kissed him like maybe it meant a little more than just mutual benefit. the way cassidy might've kissed him back with a similar kind of need.)

as john leans back, cassidy makes an affronted sound. ] If you were really treating me like a lady, you'd do the fucking honours yourself, you lazy dog.

[ despite his complaints, he twists and arches, reaching for the bedside drawer. the compass rose inked into his shoulder seems to come alive momentarily with his movements, as if the needle might actually start spinning, seeking true north. his fingers grasp the square packets he's come to associate with condoms and with a grunt he sits back again. he pulls off a square and bites one corner to make a tear that he can then pull the rest of the way open with his fingers. he still marvels at the thin material, which seems like it shouldn't be enough, but he's more than willing to accept that it is. ]

God, you future lot are so fucking lucky you have these. [ he sits forward, as best he can with only one foot for balance and no hands, the muscles in his stomach pulling in. his hands are busy reaching for john's cock, assuming he meant him to do all the honours. ] You know what we make them of? [ he holds john's cock with one hand and rolls the condom on with the other, nice and slow, squeezing just a little, just to be a bastard since he know how much john must ache. it's his own damn fault. ] Fucking animal skin. Can hardly feel a damn thing.

[ once the condom's on, he strokes john from base to tip for good measure, completely on purpose. ] Now, are you finally going to fuck me?

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HOW IS THIS FOR A DRUNK TAG >:c

IT'S BEAUTIFUL you're beautiful

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omg this ran away from me i'm so sorry

no ur not don't lie. also i'm sorry (not sorry) for this.

not even a little and aaaAARRHGHH

roars back

ROARS LOUDER

huffs

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