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The weather was mild, Elwynn was eternally verdant, and the sun has only just begun meandering towards the horizon. It was autumn in name alone. Only the earlier nights alluded to the change of seasons. Outside the walls of Stormwind, an imposing and out of place effigy was erected. The Wickerman- a human figure crafted of branches and straw- stood thirty feet above the crowd that was steadily gathering around it. The revelers scrambled to retrieve food from the feast below. The scent of roasted pork and fresh pumpkin pies wafted through the air. Small stalls sold confections- nut brittles and candied apples- at inflated prices. All of it failed to awaken a hunger in Mathias Shaw.
He had seen the ceremony as intended in his youth when he was a refugee in Lordaeron during the Second War. The pine trees had shed some of their needles, littering the ground with cedar-toned kindling. The trees unfortunate enough to not be evergreens were dying with a vermilion beauty. Their leaves looked aflame with bright reds, oranges, and yellows. Shaw had never experienced such a chill and locals said it was only the beginning. The bone deep cold of that winter was his most poignant memory from those dark months.
The Wickerman was an important cultural touchstone for the people of Lordaeron. A celebration of the year's final harvest, a memoriam to those that didn't see its end, and a promise to not let the impending darkness infect the soul. King Terenas Menethil II gave a rousing speech to his citizens and the Stormwinders he now harbored. He bid them to find kindling of their own, whisper their deepest fears into it, and let the Wickerman's flames consume them. Shaw and the other Stormwinders huddled around the flames to adsorb readily available warmth. His nose burnt from the heat of the flames, the back of his neck froze from the winds. A perplexing sensation that had his younger self sweating and shivering.
The once meaningful ceremony had become as lifeless as modern Lordaeron. With Blackrock Mountain to the north and Stranglethorn's jungles to the south, Elwynn never experienced any significant drops in temperature. As a result the land was able to have harvests throughout the year. The celebration was incongruous and gauche in Shaw's opinion. King Anduin was missing, the Scourge had grown more aggressive without a Lich King to keep them in line, and the Veil had been shattered. All that, yet parents let their children run about unescorted while begging for sweets.
The watchtower on the outer wall ensured the spymaster could see any dangers on the horizon while remaining a shadow himself. Unseen and unknowable. It was a hollow familiarity. Shaw watched the couples below from his perch with envious eyes.
The click of boots ascending the tower's stairs shook the spymaster from his wallowing. Shaw straightened his posture and waited for the guard's arrival.
"Nice view, but hardly seems a good place to actually enjoy the festivities." The voice was familiar; seasoned by salt air.
Mathias turned to see Flynn Fairwind climb the final step.
"How did you know I was here?" The older rogue's heart hammered in his chest. Despite the playful greeting, Flynn's expression was unsettlingly neutral. There was neither anger nor sorrow nor joy in his face. He just was. Mathias had never seen a man so full of emotions so bereft of them.
"I have my own ways," Fairwind answered.
"Are those ways three foot nine with a shaved head and an affinity for sharp objects?"
"Mathias! You know it's bad business to give up a valuable contact." The captain said with a hint of humor. The smile lasted only a moment. Mathias missed it dearly.
Fairwind put his hands in his pockets and sauntered forward. He stood next to Shaw without sparing him another look. The captain stayed silent; watching the festivities, waiting for something.
When the silence lingered beyond what Mathias could tolerate, he spoke. "I've missed you." It was inelegant- barging past the spymaster's lips with the strength and poise of an angered bull.
“You say it like I've been on some far off isle. I'm just in the harbor, not too far.” Flynn replied softly.
So little distance, and Shaw hadn't crossed it once. Shame pooled in his gut. The chaos of the world could be blamed for some of it. The dread that he'd ruined everything between them explained most of it. If this was the end, Shaw needed to make sure it was a clean break.
"I heard about your last interaction with Lady Taelia. I never wanted you to get tangled up in this." When the squire found out that her father was not only alive, but that the spymaster knew for years and never told her she lashed out. Flynn was caught in the crossfire.
"Tangled up in you, so that means I'm tangled up in this."
"I know." It was said like an apology- meek and small. Mathias spent most of his life wondering if it was possible to have a romantic relationship, to be happy, when the chips were down. He liked to think so, but as time marched on it became less and less certain. Happiness was easy during peacetime. Things became complicated when he needed to be the Spymaster of the Alliance. It wasn't fair to Flynn to keep stringing him along- keep him from someone else. Someone who could devote their time to him. Someone who could hold him in public without leering eyes making their skin crawl.
Fairwind let out sigh and leant against the railing. "You're always so sullen." The words were whispered into the wind.
"I know." Shaw said more firmly.
The quiet descended on them with the same steadfastness as the darkness. The crowd below them had swelled to a veritable sea of people. Once the sun fled entirely the ceremony would begin.
"So what's the story with the bushy bastard?" Fairwind questioned. "He'd be more at home in Drustvar than Stormwind. Just needs a few bones strung about him."
"It's a Lordaeron tradition Stormwind adopted." Shaw couldn't find more intimate words, so he kept the conversation at a distance. "People enjoy a party."
"Wanting a fun distraction from the worries of life isn't a sin." Fairwind countered.
"Distractions lead to mistakes."
"Am I the distraction or the mistake?" The captain asked, finally looking at the spymaster.
A dagger through the heart would've felt like bliss. Mathias's hand twitched at his side, longing to reach out and hold Flynn. The captain's eyes darted to the movement. Both remained motionless. A man unaccustomed to offering comfort and one who hadn't received any in decades. A miserable combination.
"You're the sun incarnate."
Of all the horrible things the spymaster had done in his life, those months traveling with Flynn were the best of him. Even if what came afterwards couldn't survive.
The captain let out a short, exasperated laugh and shook his head.
It wasn't enough. Mathias wanted to see his crooked smile- the lines that had formed on the kul tiran's face through years of laughter. Selfish until the last. "Flynn-"
The crowd roared to life as King Greymane appeared with a torch in hand. The lanterns that illuminated the area were snuffed. A few children wailed at the sudden darkness.
The old wolf's voice rose above the clamor of the crowd:
"Sons and daughters of Gilneas! Friends and allies old and new! Please, come close! As you know, Hallow's End is a celebration of transition… of change. This is a time of neither mourning nor grief. It is an opportunity to mock the fearsome - to gaze boldly into the grim unknown and laugh! It is a time to celebrate new friends and the future we may forge together. New struggles await us with each dawn, and uncertainty weighs upon us all. As you stand before me, I pray you cast your burdens behind me. Let this wickerman embody any unrest within us. With turmoil as tinder, let it blaze; may it temper us against what tomorrow may bring. Let the flames fly! Hallow's End is upon us!"
Torch met tinder and a ravenous column of fire consumed the Wickerman. The heat was potent, even at a distance. Shaw watched Flynn's face turn red from exposure. The spymaster could feel sweat on the back of his own neck as his body responded to a warmth he couldn't feel. The crowd below readied their own kindlings, tossing them into the flames. Each addition made the beastly fire roar with renewed life. The doubts and fears carried for months burnt to a crisp. A twig turned ash had never freed Shaw's mind of its ruminations.
"In one week it'll be a year since our dinner at the Gilded Rose." Fairwind shattered the silence with a horrid efficiency.
Their anniversary- a year stolen. Guilt overwhelmed Mathias as he turned his focus to the revelers. After all these years he was still a coward. He knew what was coming and couldn't bare to face it head on.
"I wish I could return that time to you." Squared shoulders, stiff lip; bracing for a strike.
"I don't want it back." Fairwind clicked his tongue in annoyance. "If I wanted to leave this-" he gestured between them and the nebulous thing they were, "I would've. Easier on my coin purse to raise anchor and leave the harbor."
"Why stay? You're pardon will remain even if you don't." A dissonant echo from their fight weeks ago.
"Because I'm a stubborn bastard that doesn't know when to quit. Because you saw the worst of me and didn't run. Because I'd like to think that means we can make something of this. Of us." Fairwind rested his arms on the tower's railing. Flames danced across his skin, crimson kissed his cheeks. He burned brighter than any wickerman. "Because I'd like to spend our anniversary together."
A club to the side of his head would've been less jarring for Mathias. "What?"
"I'd like to spend our anniversary together. Haven't hit that milestone before, but I'm told it's usually a joyous occasion." The impish smile returned, wide and crooked.
Mathias turned to Flynn, searching for cruel deception or malicious intent behind the words. He stared into the depth of those ocean eyes and felt warmth overtake him as Flynn directed his smile- his affection- solely on him.
"I-" his voice broke. Mathias clamped his mouth closed. He nearly bit his tongue with the force of it. The older rogue cleared his throat and began anew, "I don't want you to go." It wasn't a response to Flynn's proposal, but a long buried desire. Mathias had spent the past month preparing himself for Flynn's eventual reentrance into his life- the final one before leaving it forever. He would tell Shaw it was nice, but it was becoming too much and it was time to move on. Mathias Shaw was not a man inclined towards gentle things like romance. When it happened it was a mistake, someone seeing a tenderness that never was. A core as hollow as a dagger's sheath. One that ached as though it had a heart.
Flynn's mischievous smile softened until his teeth were obscured behind his lips. The off-kilter incisor Mathias had grown unreasonable fond of disappeared.
"I need more than that. I know you've got a lot on your plate right now Mathias, but I need more than you wanting me around. Not after a month of silence. What we have is good- great even- but it's an uphill battle. I can't do it alone."
"Come back to the apartment. Please. I-" The once dignified spymaster stumbled over his words, desperate to not muddle the sentiment behind them. "It feels cold without you there." Shaw straightened his back as his heart hammered in his chest. Was it enough? Would it ever be?
Flynn stepped closer until he hovered over Shaw- a gull in the wind. "You never were good at handling the cold."
Mathias shivered, the inferno of the Wickerman offering no reprieve. "No." It was a faint whisper muted by the crowd.
Flynn leant down and pressed the side of his stubbled face to Mathias's bare cheek. "Better?"
The older rogue's skin was ablaze. His hands tightened behind his back. "No."
A soft laugh puffed against Mathias's ear as Flynn wrapped his arms around him. The front of his coat blanketed the spymaster. The wool was coarse and smelt of the sea. "How about now?"
"No." Then Mathias presumed too much and turned his head to kiss Flynn fiercely.
Flynn returned the kiss with equal ferocity. Mathias's hands unlatched from their restrained position behind his back to grasp desperately for Flynn- his hair, his waist, anything. The captain cradled the back of the spymaster's head and lower back as dipped him, deepening the kiss. They came up gasping for air before diving back into the depths of enthrallment.
Finally, Mathias pulled away, breathless and red-faced. "Come back to the apartment- our apartment. Please." He still hovered precariously over the ground, only supported by Flynn's powerful arms. The older rogue's knees had gone weak in the haze of lust. Mathias's leather-clad hands bracketed Flynn's face; his fingers traced delicate circles into his cheek bones. The older rogue tried to collect his breath as he held onto the man he thought he'd lost.
"What's waiting for me there?" Fairwind asked cautiously.
Shaw's breathing evened out. What was waiting for him- for them there? He hadn't entered the apartment for some time. The Keep and his office had become his new haunts. There was a mounting, maddening desperation for any news about the king. There hadn't been anything meaningful thus far.
"A home. With me." It sounded pitiful to Shaw's own ears. The plea of a man who had nothing to offer but a battered heart and dusty townhouse with rotten food. The longer the silence crept on, the more the cause of the spymaster's flush shifted. The passion had left him, replaced with embarrassment. Shaw found the strength in his legs once more and stood on his own. The hands that had so sweetly held Flynn fell limply to Shaw's side.
Flynn stared at him- through him. Moments felt like hours as Shaw shuttered himself away. The captain slowly extended his hand and brushed his knuckles against the back of Shaw's gloved hand. The spymaster flinched at the contact, curling his fingers further into his palm.
"A home means you inhabit it. You haven't crossed the threshold in over three weeks."
"I could. For you." Shaw said with his eyes fixed on the Wickerman. His pupils were pinpricks in the harsh light.
"It's not a matter of could, it's a matter of would. Will you live there with me? When the day's work is done I don't want to return to an empty niche. I want to see you and know no matter how shit the world is we've made a haven for ourselves." Fairwind wormed his finger into Shaw's balled fist, prying it apart and intertwining their fingers.
Mathias held Flynn's hand so tightly he worried about crushing his fingers. The captain didn't shy away from the force of it, so he didn't relinquish his hold. The older rogue raised their joined hands to his lips and pressed a kiss to the back of Flynn's hand. "I will." Another kiss. "For you."
"Take me home, dove."
~*~
The walk from the guard tower to their apartment in Old Town was swift, silent, and lined with carved gourds. There were no detours to vacant alleyways, no chatter to pass the time. Even the streets themselves were hushed as most Stormwinders had either gone to bed or were gathered at the Wickerman outside the city's walls. In a rare display of boldness, Shaw kept their hands locked in an embrace. The golden, luminous eyes of the pumpkins leered with sinister smiles. Every few steps he caressed Flynn's knuckles with his thumb. A soothing gesture, as though Shaw needed to make sure the captain was still there. When they reached the front door, Shaw finally let go as he fiddled with his key ring. A key, a click, a creak of a door that cried out from disuse, and a shuffle of feet. Home.
The apartment was dark. The air was stale, suffocating in its potency. Shaw pulled a lighter from his pocket and ignited one of the lanterns by the door. The dull light revealed the extent of the abandonment the townhouse had suffered. Fruit flies hummed around a bowl on the kitchen table that once held fresh apples. Sickly sweet juice pooled beneath the shriveled, decaying fruit. The half eaten loaf of bread on the counter was more ostentatious in its rot. Blue and green mold with white hairs speckled the pale loaf. It looked more akin to plush malachite than food.
Shaw rubbed his face with his free hand and let out a tired sigh. The apartment had seen worse, but having someone else bear witness to its decay was new. The spymaster could at least hide the more egregious smells in the sealed ice box. Cleaning it out would undoubtedly test the iron of his stomach. For now, he handed the lantern to Flynn and grabbed an empty bucket to dispose of the visible refuse. Shaw was thankful for his gloves. The first apple he attempted to pick up was so delicate the skin collapsed to reveal a cavern the bugs had hollowed out. He clicked his tongue in annoyance as he ferried the entire basket into the trash. Some of the flies followed suit, others remained in the sticky puddle on the table.
"I'll meet you upstairs once I've finished here." Shaw said with renewed exhaustion. The horrifically colorful bread joined the apples in the bucket.
"This is work for the morning. You need rest Mathias." Flynn returned to Shaw's side, bringing the light with him. The well-worn purple under the spymaster's eyes made itself known. "I'll plug my nose and haul this out to the pigs then. Let them get drunk on spoiled apples."
"This is my mess. You don't have to clean it."
"Our home, our mess." Flynn grabbed the waste bucket from Shaw and set it back on the table. "Right now I want to lay in a musty bed that the moths have eaten with you."
The older rogue shook his head with a fond levity and made his way to the stairs. "Come along, Captain." Shaw avoided the tender spots that creaked under any weight- a simple security measure rather than a structural flaw. Flynn ascended without care for the noise. Each step groaned in alarm.
"You know where to tread."
"Aye, but I want to make sure you know I'm here and not some handsome phantom of your sleep-addled mind." The lantern filled the hall with their shadows, distorted and still.
Mathias raised a hand to rub Flynn's cheek. The stubble pulled at the leather. "My fantasies are devoid of rotten food. That is an unfortunate reality."
A barking laugh echoed in the small space as the captain reached around Shaw to open the bedroom door. "Missed the bite of your humor."
The bedroom was in a better state than the kitchen. The spymaster's strict refusal to allow food in it ensured that, if nothing else, there wasn't any unsightly molds. Flynn pulled the curtain aside to reveal the white moon closer than Shaw had ever seen it. It dominated the sky with a light as potent as the evening sun. There had never been a night so luminous. The sound of a window opening wasn't enough to break the spell the lunar body had cast on Mathias. A gentle hand on his shoulder finally pulled him from his empty thoughts. Flynn pressed himself firmly against the spymaster's back.
"The White Lady's full and our bed's empty." Flynn undid the buckles holding Shaw's pauldrons in place, carefully laying them on the floor. The lantern had settled on the nightstand while Shaw was enamored by the moon. "It's bad luck." Chapped lips pressed against the spymaster's now easily accessible neck.
Mathias shivered as he undid the rest of his armor. He pulled the laces of his cuirass until it went slack, pooling at his feet. "I thought I needed rest."
It was a weak retort- the older rogue continued to disrobe until his upper body was fully exposed.
"I'm helping you work out any underlying tension. Wouldn't do to go to bed so wound up." The words were whispered into the back of Mathias's neck.
Flynn's hands roamed over every new patch of skin that was revealed. He shirked off his own coat and turned Mathias around. The Kul Tiran wore his own delighted smile.
Their lips came together in a slow passion. There wasn't a rush. This wasn't a goodbye. Flynn caught up to Mathias's state of undress- now naked from the waist up. The spymaster's eyes hungrily drank in the sight of the artwork that adorned his lover. Mathias's bare hands grasped Flynn's chest possessively while his mouth lavished the area with kisses and bites alike. The captain let out a low groan and raked his blunted nails down Mathias's back.
"Bed." Flynn said breathily. He licked his lips with a lustful hunger. "I got to get you out of those pants."
Mathias nodded and stepped towards the bed. He threw back the sheets and dust danced in the moonlight. The spymaster grimaced, but was pushed onto the mattress before he could voice his disdain. Mathias turned around to sit on the edge of the bed and found Flynn kneeling on the floor in front of him. The captain removed the older rogue's boots, tossing them haphazardly to the side. Another time Shaw might've cared more about the mess they were making. Right now it was a worry for the morning.
Rope-worn hands trailed up Mathias's legs, leaving goosebumps in their wake before landing on the ties of his pants. Flynn leant over and mouthed at the pale, freckled skin that lay just above the leathers. A trail of copper hair lead Flynn to his prize and he pried the spymaster's pants and undergarments down. He was well accustomed with the knives hidden in the false seam. The swashbuckler maneuvered them off with ease. Each inch of skin revealed was showered with attention. By the time Mathias was fully naked proof of his lust made itself know. His cock rested against his stomach, hard and slightly skewed to the left. Flynn told him once that it was amusing a man as straitlaced as Shaw had a crooked cock.
The captain whispered sweet nothings into the crook of Mathias's pelvis as he began slowly stroking his erection. Flynn moved his mouth along the underside of Mathias's cock and, after a slow lick from base to tip, swallowed him down.
The sensation pulled a low moan from the spymaster. His hands tangled in Flynn's hair as the captain worked himself up and down his cock. Mathias could feel the muscles in Flynn's mouth working around him, the twisting of his tongue. After Flynn found a rhythm, Mathias thrust his hips in time with it.
Bent over his kneeling lover, Mathias had a clear- if upside down- view of the man's elaborate back piece. Flynn had gotten it to celebrate his first year as captain, squirreling away part of the treasures and ransoms accrued over that time to pay for it. A specialist was hired, coin was exchanged, and half a week later it was finished. The majority of the tattoo was a deep indigo, with maroon and olive accents. A brig cut through the choppy waters of the ocean below and the stormy sky above; framed in rope and roses. Two scantily clad mermaids reclined on the very bottom of the artwork. The first time Shaw had seen hints of the tattoo he was intrigued. Seeing the full piece, however, had rendered him mute for too long to pass of as anything other than impressed by the beauty of the ink. It was well before he and Flynn had begun any kind of relationship beyond civility for work. Still, the captain made it a point to turn his back to the Wind's Redemption when he rigged the Middenwake, unable to deny himself the thrill of being desired. The spymaster, in turn, thought it was only fair to cast his eyes to Fairwind every so often. After all, a happy captain was a productive one.
There were imperfections on the piece, but they were consequences of life rather than a lack of skill from the artist. Corporal punishment was cruel a reality, especially for seafaring folks. The skin on Flynn's back bore proof of that. Flogging scars, some old enough to be under the ink, were infrequently scattered about his back. Others were fresher, breaking the clean lines of the tattoo. A boy with a smart mouth was rarely appreciated. A man who had turned turncoat even less so. The flogging scars were accompanied by gnarled pellet sprays from muskets and cuts from blades. Mathias bent over further to run his carefully callused fingers across one particular scar. It was two inches in length, thin, and just above Flynn's right kidney. It had a twin on the ex-pirate's stomach. Stabbed clean through. The attack would've been fatal had it connected with the organ, but luck favored Flynn that day and it struck sinew instead. Ironically, the man no longer had that kidney; lost years later through dubious means.
Mathias found himself getting lost in a sea of what ifs about the man he loved so dearly. A gagging noise and tapping on his thigh shook Mathias out of his romantic revelation. He released his hold on Flynn. The captain sat back on his calves, coughing into the crook of his elbow while he caught his breath. His lips were red as he wiped drool from them.
"I know my lung capacity is admirable, but I'm no whale." Flynn's throat was hoarse from use and abuse.
"Apologies." The disheveled sight of his lover only further aroused the spymaster. Mathias's thumb cleared away a spot of spit Flynn missed.
"Not the first time I've made someone lose their head over their desire for me." The swashbuckler teased, leaning up until he and Mathias were sharing the air from their lungs. "You alright? Felt like I lost you for a bit."
Mathias drowned the depths of Flynn's ocean eyes and delighted in the sensation. "Never." He kissed Flynn with all the love he lacked the words for. His hands grasped insistently at the captain's back, hauling him off the floor and onto his lap.
Flynn chuckled, a deep rumbling thing, and shed his remaining clothing before seating himself on his lover's lap. They sat there on the musty bed pressed impossibly close and languidly kissing each other. Softly spoken words of praise and endearment flowed from Flynn's lips between each one. He blindly reached for the nightstand to pull a vial of oil from it.
"Least this stuff doesn't spoil." The captain uncorked the glass and poured the clear liquid onto his hand.
Mathias crawled out from under Flynn and reclined on the bed. Flynn followed the spymaster, hovering over him and slowly stroking himself.
Mathias hummed in response, reaching for the vial and pouring some onto his own hand. "How do you want me?"
"Decisions, decisions Spymaster." Flynn said with a singsong.
The silver moonlight flitted across the captain's skin, highlighting his tattoos and the muscle and fat they covered. His hair was a mess; some lay against his shoulders while the rest was in a wild array around his crown. His eyes shined with merriment and his smile belied an ease few ever felt in the spymaster's presence. Flynn Fairwind enchanted Mathias Shaw; body, mind, and heart were his. The perpetual fear of the captain's abandonment disappeared. He was here, smiling at Mathias like he was the most wonderful thing in the world. They fought against their nature and found each other; held onto each other with white knuckles. A love as grounding as it was dizzying. The kind that Mathias yearned for since learning of love. He may have had it once in the twilight of his youth, but he knew he had it now. Mathias's vision blurred.
"Hey, dove, you alright?" Flynn stopped his ministrations and looked down at his lover with concern.
Hot tears defiantly streaked down the older rogue's cheeks. Prior to Flynn's comment Shaw assumed he may have been losing consciousness from overexcitement. That would've been preferable.
"Fuck," Mathias said eloquently. He wretched his hands up to wipe the offending liquid from his face only to have another join it. "Fuck!"
Flynn bit his lip to avoid laughing at the other man's distress. "You know, despite my laundry list of lovers you're an experience all your own." His voice betrayed his amusement. The captain took the corner of a blanket and wiped the spymaster's face. "And while I appreciate the ingenuity, the execution leaves me a bit concerned."
Shaw took the paisley cloth from Flynn and wiped his face more forcefully. "How did you make such a mess of me in such short order?" The satin barrier muffled his voice.
"Well there's my rakish good looks, winning smile," Flynn counted off each quality on his fingers, "fantastic sense of humor, prowess in bed, enchanting charisma-"
"Overwhelming humility."
"Yeah, that too."
Laughter bubbled forth from Mathias. He already made a fool of himself and his body seemed content to go further still. It was hoarse; an old piece of machinery rusty with disuse. It shook the older rogue's body with thundering force.
"Steady on mate. You're swinging from one end to the other." Flynn said with the perplexing combination of an easy smile and a furrowed brow.
Mathias took a deep breath; a mess of tears and smiles. "I'm fine." A pause. A gentle hand upon Flynn's rough cheek. A look he hoped conveyed the depths of his affection- his love. "And I'm cold."
"Think I may have a solution for that." The captain said as though pondering a grand philosophical querry.
"I would be disappointed if you didn't."
Their lips met in a heated passion. Their limbs tangled in a mess of flesh and desire. Flynn guided Mathias back onto the pillows, blanketing him under the inferno of his body. Mathias's clung to Flynn with the same intensity as a drowning man clinging to wreckage. The oil Flynn had used on himself earlier now coated both their cocks as they started grinding against each other. The slick heat was overwhelming, delightfully maddening, as Mathias moaned into Flynn's mouth. The spymaster released his lover's lips and began peppering Flynn's neck with aggressive affection. It was soon covered in red marks that outnumbered the tattoos there. Each one wretched a low groan and more enthusiastic thrusts from the burly man. It all was too much for Mathias. He threw his head back against the pillows and cried out in pleasure. Flynn pressed the advantage and showered Mathias's newly exposed neck with the same devotion.
"Keep going," the older rogue said through heavy breaths, grinding up against his lover's stilled hips.
Flynn shivered and thrust erratically against Mathias's spent cock and cum-covered stomach. Erotic adoration flowed from Flynn's lips as he got closer and closer to his own release. Mathias tangled his fingers in his lover's hair and pulled his face back until they were eye to eye. He held the ex-pirate's gaze and twisted his fingers. Flynn fell over the edge and collapsed onto Mathias, making the mess between their stomachs worse. The spymaster's hand turned tender as he massaged the back of Flynn's scalp. Flynn, in turn, mouthed gently at Mathias's collar bone.
"Say what you will about fights, the makeup sex is always fantastic." Flynn muttered into the warm niche of his lover's clavicle.
"I don't want to make a habit of it."
"The arguing or the phenomenal shag? I have very strong objections to one of those options."
Mathias rolled his eyes and pushed Flynn off him. He grabbed the desecrated satin and rubbed away the filth between them. Flynn lay supine, arms behind his head as he watched the older rogue clean what he could. Once satisfied, Shaw took the sheet and tossed it onto the floor with little care for where it landed. He found the wool throw blanket that had been kicked to the end of the bed and wrapped it around them. The fibers were rough against his bare skin, but the creeping autumn air was persuasive.
The only sounds in the room was their erratic breath as they bathed in the afterglow. Through the crack in the window, faint sounds of the Wickerman celebration meandered in; the distant roar of the crowd outside the walls, the footsteps of revelers returning home, the delirious delight of children who had stayed up far too late. The melody of Stormwind in autumn lulled the lovers into a gentle silence.
Flynn curled onto his side, facing Mathias. The rough pad of his thumb wiped away the last hints of Mathias's tears. The younger man's expression was sleepy serenity- drooping eyelids and stifled yawns. He defiantly fought against the night as though he was desperate to see Mathias for a few more moments. The need for rest, however, eventually won out. Flynn's eyes closed, his body went slack, and his breathing evened out.
Mathias laid on his back, admiring his lover with unblinking eyes. He should've been tired; weeks without proper rest, constant stress, and now physical exertion were a tempting narcoleptic cocktail. Instead, he continued to watch Flynn drift into dreams.
He loved him. Without the adrenaline of sex, the haze obscuring his thoughts dissipated. He loved Flynn Fairwind. His heart ached with the weight of it. What did you even do with such a feeling? Was it something shared in a quiet moment like this? Maybe a more elaborate display to ensure the gravity of the emotion was properly conveyed? Should he even say anything at this point? The questions raged like a tempest in Mathias's mind.
Ever attuned to his lover, Flynn's unconscious body crawled closer. The older rogue smiled and mirrored Flynn's position; cradling the larger man in his arms. The hair on the captain’s chest tickled and his gut was a plush cushion between them. It ignited an all-consuming fire within Mathias. The intruding autumn air was inconsequential.
For the first time in years, Mathias Shaw felt safe. It was terrifying. It was wondrous. It was his.