drip down the bluff

The sunlight slants low through the trees as evening draws closer, syrupy light dripping through the rustling fronds and pooling dappled shade over the beaten trail towards the oasis. It might hold a certain idyllic appeal, if Hugo cared beyond the relief that the sun is turning its incinerating gaze elsewhere, and that the encroaching evening means that Gabriel has set his campfire.

He makes his way cautiously along the trail, rapier pommel under one palm and irritation buzzing around his head in much the way that insects did not on this unearthly, gods-cursed isle. One would think that it was sizable enough for two men to coexist, if not peacefully, then with at least some small sum of privacy. 

Then again, Gabriel never was much for respect, or boundaries, or decency. 

It's far less charming these days.

His stomach is empty, his mouth parched, and now that wisps of smoke are rising from the far side of the island, Hugo will take his shot at the fresh water. Gods willing, he won't have to contend with his former first mate cross-armed and barring the way with his imposing bulk, nor the infuriating assertion that he's staked full claim to the oasis, so if Hugo wants to slake his thirst on more than leaf dew and what he wrings out of his coat of a morning, then tough shit.

Finders keepers, indeed.

At the lake, Hugo finds the surroundings empty of hard-headed holy terrors, and so allows himself to relax an inch. As he crouches at the bank to scoop a double palmful of the muddy-smelling water, his belt digs into his abdomen, and another pressing matter arises instead.

He's ignored it for as long as he can for a variety of reasons—foremost being the risk of Gabriel catching him literally with his pants down—but as he gulps a handful of water, cool droplets rolling over his chin and down his neck, his bladder makes its fullness known with a dull ache.

Hugo shakes his hands, droplets spattering over the lake's bright surface. He's tempted to piss directly into it, since the thought of Gabriel drinking it unawares while he refuses to let Hugo dip his cup is about as poetic as such a thing can be.

The idea amuses him the more he thinks about it, and if that's how he's going to play things then it stands to reason he should satisfy his own thirst first. He makes a ladle of his hands and brings them to his mouth—and hears a sound, almost lost in the trickle of the water through his fingers. A recalcitrant stomping in the undergrowth.

Wonderful.

"And what the hells do you think you're doing?" Gabriel emerges from the foliage with sweaty belligerence, his imposing frame backlit by the lowering sun. Dark ink writhes over his biceps as he folds his arms across his chest.

Hugo clenches his back teeth and lets out a long, tired breath. "What does it look like I'm doing."

"What it looks like is that you're helping yourself to something that don't belong to you, Commodore. But that can't be right, 'cause I'm pretty sure you forsook your thievin' ways when you turned your back on me and the rest of the fold."

Hugo rises to his feet with a scoff. "Proclaiming the oasis yours doesn't make it so."

"Anything saltwater touches belongs to Xeheia, and what's hers is mine. Ain't a place on this island that you can't hear the ocean so you're lucky I'm letting you stay on dry land at all."

Hugo opens his mouth to point out that the fresh water is clearly not touched by salt, as that is, in fact, what makes it fresh water, but spies the twitch at the corner of Gabriel's mouth and narrowly saves himself from being baited into a particularly idiotic argument.

"Whatever, I ain't here to get into a pissing contest," Gabriel says when denied the rise he was angling for, and Hugo barks a laugh before he can stop himself. "Yeah? What's so bleedin' funny?"

"Very little at present." Hugo subtly shifts his weight onto his other foot. Things have gotten somewhat urgent since he decided to relieve himself and was immediately stymied, and yet he can't resist needling Gabriel now that he's here. "I notice you were as quick on my heels as a whelp starved for scraps. You must have been watching for me."

"Yeah, I was," Gabriel says easily. "Not like there's anything better to do around here. May as well amuse myself how I can."

"Well, if you're done being entertained..." Hugo rests one hand on the hilt of his rapier and sweeps disdainfully with the other: go away.

Gabriel laughs, a low rumble of mirth precisely calibrated to make Hugo bristle, as is his decision to invade Hugo's personal space instead of leaving like a reasonable person might. His folded arms press against Hugo's chest; he leans in close enough to kiss. Waves of hair that have escaped from his braid brush Hugo's face. 

"C'mon, Hugo. How do you think this is gonna go? You ain't caught me slack in the stays this time, and we both know you need to get the jump on me to stand a chance."

"Hm, how do I think this will go." Hugo drums his fingers on his sword hilt as though giving it some contemplation. "I think that your soul's so rinsed with blood and brine that whatever shred of decency you had is long since sluiced away. I think you will resort to unrepentant bloodshed before you'll afford a man enough grace to take a drink and wash his face. I think, Berthelot, that you are so consumed by the Fury's zeal that you believe such petty malice to be a righteous act. But mostly what I think is that you're only starting another gods-bedamned fight because you're that desperate to get down in the dirt with me again."

As gratifying as it is to watch Gabriel's smug grin melt into a black look, Hugo knows this is a course charted in crimson. But his only other option is retreat, and his pride demands that he tolerate neither going thirsty nor Gabriel's self-satisfied crowing.

"Bold words coming from a man who sold himself out to the navy. You scrub the sin out of your own miserable soul with your watered-down rum ration?"

"Unfortunately, no. So you should have known that things would go like this."

Hugo swiftly draws his rapier along the length of his body, belting Gabriel in the nose with the pommel. He was aiming for the underside of his jaw, but it lands with a satisfactory crunch nevertheless. 

Gabriel staggers back with a bellow of pain, hands flying to his face. Blood streams from between his fingers and patters onto the slope of his chest as he glares at Hugo, wide-eyed with wrath.

"Godsdamn rotten son of a—" he manages, before Hugo charges into him shoulder-first, hitting low and hard with all his strength, moved by a blistering anger he's become fast reacquainted with on this island sojourn. Triumph flares in him as Gabriel loses his footing and lands hard in the gritty sand, even if he pulls Hugo down with him. 

What follows is little more than an undignified scuffle. Hugo scrambles astride Gabriel, taking an elbow to the jaw that fills his mouth with the tang of blood. He spits while he rides out a round of enraged bucking. They roll, his sword tumbling out of reach, and for a delirious moment he's crushed under Gabriel's weight, shark's grin filling his vision and sweat dripping onto his face. 

A vicious knee to his gut and a shove with the strength in his thighs rights them again. He fends off Gabriel's grasping hands as he tears at his coat and mashes his face, managing to pin one to the sandy ground. The other he restrains under his knee to a fresh chorus of fuck-yous.

"Don't worry," Hugo says, panting as he unfastens his belt buckle one-handed. If he has any hope of getting away from here unmangled, he will need a head start. "A broken nose always suited you." 

He whips his belt from its loops. It brings dangerous relief and further urgency to the situation. 

Gabriel eyes the belt wildly, blood trickling from his nose and soaking his beard, a hectic flush to his cheeks. A slow, insidious heat coils in Hugo's gut. Just like on the beach, the sight brings a long-steeped desire surging back, black water brimming up and only the finest tension preventing its spill.

"This again already? Didn't get enough last time you tied me up, huh?" There's a curl to Gabriel's lip, but his attempts to unseat Hugo have become noticeably half-hearted. Enough that he manages to cuff one wrist without much difficulty, pulling it tight enough that the belt leather indents Gabriel's skin. "Pathetic."

"I'm not the one who's angling for another fuck. I know you missed me, but it's a little embarrassing." Hugo lifts off Gabriel enough to turn him onto his front, shoving his head down and kneeing him in the kidney when he acts up, then twists his arms behind his back, lashing his wrists together while he thrashes and curses about it.

"Drown in an inch of piss, asshole," he spits. "I'll sheath my blade in your guts. I'll skin you alive."

"You always know just what to say." Hugo yanks the buckle tight, and satisfied that Gabriel's restrained enough for the time being, releases his white-knuckled grip and springs back. 

Gabriel rolls over to glare up at him, powerful shoulders flexing as he tests his bonds. Given an hour or so he could probably loosen things enough to free himself, but his immediate response is to try and get up.

Hugo shoves him back down with a foot to the sternum.

Gabriel flashes his teeth at him, huge hairy bare chest heaving under his sole, nipple piercings glinting in the retreating daylight. "Come on then," he says. "I already know the navy didn't teach you any new tricks, so how about you just shove your Imperial-issue cunt in my face and get it over with."

Tempting as that is, there's an ache between Hugo's thighs that he can only partially put down to arousal. Abruptly he knows how this is going to go, an idea that tugs in his belly like a fish hook embedded.

If what Gabriel craves is some novel debasement, then he can have it. 

Dry mouthed, he lets his unbelted breeches drop, kicks them away and plants his feet either side of Gabriel's thick waist. Gabriel's blood-smeared face is a picture of puzzlement, until Hugo shoves down his underwear and spreads himself with the v of his fingers.

Then he figures it out.

"Oh, nah, you—"

It's delicious to let go. Physical relief, and a compelling transgression as well. Hugo is no stranger to urges that both repel and allure, though the navy's gimlet eye and his own efforts at reform have left him scarce leeway to tread that line in recent years. There's wild satisfaction in the way his water arcs from between his spread legs and rains down onto Gabriel's chest, how it streams over the swell of his breasts, his chest hair slicked in the direction of the flow. It drips off his body to soak into the sandy loam around him, its acrid scent dominating the air. 

The last of the sun makes it glimmer, drenching him in liquid gold, but for once Gabriel doesn't appreciate his share of the wealth.

"—filthy godsdamn dog!"

Rage and desperation and rage again, fury in him always, Gabriel sputters in wordless apoplexy. He flattens his feet to the ground and twists, halfway managing to turn over, then obviously realises that exposing his bondmark will only get it pissed on and so throws himself onto his back again, snarling.

His furious humiliation is real, but so is the dark eclipse of his eyes, the hitch of his breathing. Turned on, despite his vehement objections, but then he's used to being covered in Hugo's fluids. There was always more than blood spilled between them.

A rivulet of piss streaks down Gabriel's stomach, soaking the soft hair beneath his navel. He glowers like a thunderhead as a wet blossom spreads into his sash. In a fit of spite, Hugo drags his fingers so his stream hits the crotch of Gabriel's slops instead, drenching the loose fabric until it grows heavy and clings to the telltale jut of his cock. 

Not that Gabriel has anything to say about this particular development besides blasting more vitriol in his general direction. "I'll pull out your innards and strangle you with 'em! You son of a bitch, I'll crush your bones and pick my teeth with the splinters!"

Hugo smiles thinly. "You've been failing at something of the sort for years. It's not the threat you think it is."

"Eat," Gabriel says, "shit."

He's lucky that Hugo is almost through or he'd rinse his mouth out for him. As it is, his flow's ebbed to a trickle and arousal has surged to the fore in a hot wave. He dips his fingers to his cunt lips, gathers the different kind of wetness there and idly rubs his clit, scattering the last few droplets where they may land. 

Mostly over Gabriel's face. Some of it trickles down his nose and into the corner of his eye, and he attains glorious incandescence. 

Hugo's ready for the vicious kick Gabriel aims at his cunt, though barely; he was more expecting him to go for a knee. Always practical in his violence, but occasionally overambitious. 

"Craven-ass bastard... if you ain't got the guts to untie me, least admit you only want one thing here. Like you only ever wanted one godsdamn thing from me."

Hugo's stomach twists like a nest of eels. He should wash himself down, retrieve his breeches and make himself scarce, but he already knows he won't. It's been so long, and Gabriel is... so very Gabriel.

That he's not going to leave things here is bad enough. Even worse that he's going to prove Gabriel right, in his eyes, but it's not as though amends are on the table.

"Yeah, that's what I thought." Gabriel's temper blunts as Hugo comes to a kneel above his face, bitterness cooling its glowing edge. His eyes are dark as Hugo courses his fingers through the waves of his hair, grips a handful and pulls his head back. "Same old fuckin' view."

Of course, sometimes Gabriel has the general effect of a tropical malaise, sapping Hugo's energy and making him desperate for a way to keep him quiet. He hovers over him, bearing down and pressing the heel of his hand to his lower belly, finding a last reserve in his bladder. It patters over Gabriel's bloodied chin and beard, running over his lips and his bared teeth, amber dewing him.

Hugo doesn't give him time to complain. He straddles Gabriel's mouth, cunt pulsing at the coarse scratch of his beard against his inner thighs and the sharp prick of his focus beads, the muffled indignation that vibrates against his lips. Then comes more furious bucking, as predictable as the rising tide. Hugo clenches his thighs to keep from being ousted. 

"Done?" Hugo asks once he's exhausted this latest outburst. "The sooner you let me finish, the sooner you can wash yourself off. Give me your mouth or lie here reeking in the dirt, your choice."

Gabriel's breath comes in hot gusts through his nose, glaring up at him red-faced, animosity glittering in his eyes like precious gems. He growls deep in his throat, a rumble of distant thunder, but doesn't relent. Hugo yanks his hair, yanks again, yanks until angry tears bead at the corners of his eyes, until finally the heat of Gabriel's mouth engulfs him, the flat of his tongue questing along Hugo's soaked folds, heedless of why they are so wet.

It's no surrender, but it's an improvement. Hugo shifts, leaning forward to roll his hips into Gabriel's face, grinding down hard. It used to be that he'd never accept anything less than worship from his first mate, and even here, fucking in the ashes of their relationship, Gabriel's presence flensed from his soul, that hasn't changed. 

Not when Gabriel still fights him for it. Not when he still yields with such animal hunger. 

He ignores the collapsing emotion that strains inside his ribs, the slow crush of a wreck under a hundred fathoms of ocean water, and shifts so that Gabriel can distract him with a roll of his tongue against his clit. It makes his thighs jolt, portent to the lightning that shears down his spine when Gabriel flicks it, then widens his mouth to envelop Hugo's mound, damp curls of hair and all, and sucks fiercely. Hugo's back snaps into an arch without his say-so, sensation mounting too swiftly for him to fend it off, and with a guttural exhale he comes all at once, hot pleasure pouring through him with bone-shaking force. 

Seems he has a drop more to spend; he releases in a flood over Gabriel's mouth and chin. He feels Gabriel's throat spasm as he struggles to breathe, his panting exhales bubbling against his overheated flesh, and lifts off him enough to see his shining lips, the moisture darkening his beard.

Gabriel licks his lips, wrinkles his nose, and with a defiant scowl, spits onto Hugo's cunt. Hot saliva lands on his folds and slides off them in a slow viscous drip.

It takes every ounce of his willpower for Hugo to get up instead of smothering him, or worse, grabbing his chin to delve his tongue into his vulgar mouth, but does manage to leave him snarling while he kneels at the lake. 

He splashes water into his face, then cups a series of handfuls to sluice his thighs and belly, and a handful more to quench the raw heat between his legs.

"If you don't untie me, Melançon," Gabriel says, "I swear on the Fury's—"

"Swear on whatever part of her you like, it makes no odds to me." Hugo cradles a palmful of water to his mouth and drinks. "I'll think about untying you once I'm done with your precious lake. Was it worth all your posturing? Did you get what you wanted?"

"What I wanted?" Gabriel's voice is hoarse with affront. "You markin' me like I'm your godsdamned property after you gave me up... where the hells do you get off?" A vast shuddering breath. "Let me free!"

The goading was easier to deflect. Hugo lets his handful of water drop back into the lake.

The sun has pitched below the horizon. It's darker here than on the beach, thick foliage blotting out the light of the moon. Stray stars scatter the lake's surface, but their cold spark is barely enough to see by. His breeches are a ghostly crime in the sand. They cling accusingly to his skin when he pulls them on. Every inch of him feels humid with use. 

He loosens Gabriel's bonds with the kind of caution he'd reserve for freeing prickly, poisonous sea life from a fishing net, and retreats to the beaten path while he struggles to get the rest of the way untied. 

"I hate you!" Gabriel hurls the words after him with all the heated passion of a love confession, halfway twisted in the damp sand, the curve of his shoulder gleaming wet.

"So I hear," Hugo replies, but doesn't say it back.