#ockiss23

Ari feels like his lips are burning every single time he thinks of the previous night.

He’s already late for work, he’s never late for work. At some point he’d thought about getting out of bed, but the idea of coming face to face with Edward fills him with an unrelenting sense of panic and desire.

He feels as though he lies there - near-comatose and trying to make sense of it all - forever. It felt like a dream, the sort of thing that happens to men who aren’t him. Men who knew how to be approachable, and agreeable. This is the sort of tale he expected April to star in, but not him.

Yet, for some unintelligible reason, Edward had chosen to kiss him.

The thought alone had his heart racing to the point he brings his hand to his chest and sucks in a deep, unsteady breath. When on earth had he become an object of the other man’s affections? Was it truly intended for him or was it a by-product of loneliness in an extremely social environment?

He drags himself into work eventually.

He ducks into his office as soon as he gets there, avoiding the odd look that Ember gives him as he brushes past the workers to his little ivory tower. Ari cannot fathom conversation right now, and luckily Ember simply tends to assume simple things – he’s hungover, or he went to bed too late.

Ari gets through most of his day as normal. His attention wanders often, and he found himself unable to fixate on his work as he usually does, lost in a cavern of thought that mostly pertained to Edward’s head on his chest, or the feeling of his lips. Everything about that man is so soft and gentle, what on earth is he thinking to take interest in someone like him?

Surely a man like that deserves a person just as capable of gentleness as he is.

Ari sighs in frustration and drops his pencil on his desk, the needle of his compass pricking his finger in his aggressive movement. Growling low at the back of his throat, he shoves back his chair and throws open his desk drawer. He pours himself a drink from his bottle of whiskey and drains it in one fell swoop.

His uninterrupted day is punctured with a knock at his door. When he calls for the person on the other side to enter, he makes no move to mask his irritation. Anyone who knows Ari knows he likes his days to be undisturbed by outside influence.

But his face softens from the glare that had come prepared when he sees Edward on the other side, looking much worse for wear. His eyes were tired and unfocused, his demeanour that of a man struggling to stay upright, exhaustion tied neatly around his clear nervousness.

He holds out the folder in his hands, stammering through his rehearsed - yet broken - lines. “This…this…uh…from April, the folder, for you.” He thrusts his hands out at a distance, clearly not wanting to be much closer to Ari than he had to be. “I’m so sorry about last night, I…I…I clear…clearly overstepped and I…I don’t know what…I’m so sorry.”

Ari stands silently, crossing the room. He towers over Edward, and he’d be lying to say that this difference did not provide him with some form of satisfaction, of euphoria. Like Edward was made to fit against his body and be held by his arms. He shivers slightly, cheeks suddenly hot at the mere remembrance of Edward’s body held against his own as they swayed to the music.

He'd felt somewhat whole for the first time in a long while.

“I’m not upset with you,” he utters in a flat tone, placing the folder on his desk, which he leans back against. Ari swallows down a dry throat, closing his eyes for a flicker of a moment, before shaking his head. “I don’t know what on earth compelled you to do such a thing, but I don’t hold it against you, it’s only human to make rash decisions when you’re drunk and lonely…”

Edward’s eyebrows furrow, and he shakes his head slowly, but Ari only continues.

“…I understand that you made a mistake, and it feels…odd, and the dynamic feels odd, now, but I assure you that I have no complaint to make,” other than the fact I can’t seem to concentrate on anything else, he thinks to himself, somewhat bitterly.

“You don’t?” Edward asks, his eyes suddenly a little wider.

“No, of course not, you were looking for someone to make you feel better, and I just…happened to be there.”

“That’s not-”

“Ultimately I hope you find someone far more compatible to your characteristics as a person because-”

“-Ari, wait-”

“-I really could not provide you with any-” he laughs, but it is dry and bitter “-any sort of happiness that you may be searching for, I’m afraid I’m about a useful as a partner as a chocolate fireguard.”

Edward stares at him, shoulders loosening. For a moment, he simply looks drained, absent, nothing in his expression but vacancy. Then he smiles, but it refuses to be any brighter than his impassiveness. “I see,” he whispers “…okay.” He blinks a few times, shakes his head, and then turns to leave. “I didn’t kiss you because I was lonely,” he uttered, on the last legs of courage infused by sheer exhaustion.

“Then…why?”

“I kissed you because you’re you, and I wanted to kiss you.” He refuses to look at Ari, his shoulders shaking with the nervous breaths he takes.

The words linger in Ari’s mind as they’re spoken, refusing to assimilate in his thought process at all. First, all he feels is confusion, the second is dread, and lastly there is a distinct yearning to comfort Edward. He swallows the first two emotions and crosses the room to rest his hand on Edward’s shoulder.

The younger man turns, looking up at him with dark eyes full of tears, looking up at Ari with something akin to real fear, of what he hardly has to ask. Ari pulls him closer and wraps his arms around him as he had done the night before.

“I’ve not been kissed in a very long time, I fear I don’t quite know how to react to this situation,” he admits quietly “…I don’t have the words, or the thoughts, and there is so very much you don’t know about me, Edward, but…”

Edward leans back, looking up at him, he brings his hand to wipe his tearstained cheeks. In Ari’s arms, he trembles. “…but?” He presses.

"I don't..." Ari's head feels tight, like the walls of his skull are trying to suffocate his brain "...I don't feel I disliked the kiss, even if I would have preferred you to be sober."

Edward laughs quietly through his tears, reaching a hand between them to wipe his eyes. "I want to know you."

Thomas emerged, coughing and waving some of the steam away as he stumbled for a moment. “Damn!” he coughed. “Didn’t think that would happen.”

“Mm,” she said noncommittally. “Tell me again how I’m not allowed in the kitchen?”

“You’re not allowed in the kitchen,” he said, taking a towel and waving it to dispel the steam further, “because your concoctions nearly raised the dead last time.”

“That’s hardly funny,” she said, musing over a picture.

He grinned. “Funny is perspective.” He came over with another cough and checked the window before slipping it open a little and propping it up with a stick before coming over. “What’re you lookin at so intently?”

“Old clippings,” she muttered, moving aside a little to let him see. Glanced up at him.

“Our first few cases,” he said with a smile, wiping his hands on the towel before slinging it back over his shoulder. “Well…first few that the papers reported on.”

She nodded, keeping an eye on him. “Why’d you keep these?”

He shrugged. “Dunno. Seemed like a good idea at the time.” He glanced at her, his grin sliding down into a smile. “Does it…bother you? That we were in the paper?”

She shook her head and looked back down. “Not really. I don’t…quite know how to feel about it, exactly. Spent so long in the shadows, it’s strange to be in the spotlight.”

“Spotlight keeps us safe for now,” he said, tapping one of the pictures. “‘Specially after that one with the mayor.”

She snorted. “Mysterious disappearance my foot. His kid just wanted to escape for a while.”

“Good thing we convinced him to get back home before anyone found out about his…friend.”

She frowned. Looked up at him. “Was it? We told him to hide. Just like you were told. Like I was. Like we are. Why didn’t we just let him…be?”

“We needed cash,” he answered, sitting on the desk. “And to hide from a certain vampiress. Plus it…it was just the right thing for now. You know how careful some secrets need to be managed.”

She considered it for a moment. “You don’t…regret staying hidden, do you? I didn’t…”

He gave her a small smile, put a finger under her chin and turned her to face him. Finger slid away from her as they met eyes. “Miss Becka, I may regret a lot of things about my life. Meeting you has never been one of them. I don’t doubt it one bit, and I hope you never do either.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead, giving her another small smile.

Something shrill began to whistle in the kitchen and he started. “Oh damn, that’s goin off already?!” He rushed out of the room and left her with a small smile. She turned back to the little book and kept flipping through the clippings. She knew that most of the time they would take pictures of only him; a white man in the white man’s world. She didn’t mind. It was their arrangement, allowing her to move more freely and with less notice. Snoop easier.

Yet every picture he had in this book was one where the two of them were pictured together. She put her fingers against the ink and muttered, “you’re too good for me, doll. You’re just too good.”

She takes in the smell, as the magazines on the table were scattered. There were articles about fashion, some were cut outs on art description that Elin has been collecting. Her gaze falls towards a few food centered magazines, which belong to Max himself. She stands, leaving the scatter as she makes her way following the trail of the smell. Their apartment in the middle of the city, was quaint but it felt like home to them.

-

After a few steps, Max's figure is evident as he stood over the stove with a white shirt and pants to complement him. And she absolutely adores the view everytime.

"So, what's for dinner chef?" She says, before standing beside him; observing the two pans on the stove.

"Patience madame, it's a surprise."

"Well, what about a clue?"

He hums, before feeding her a spoonful to taste. It's something she always done, and he finds it amusing to see her excitement over it.

"So, mon chéri ; what's the verdict?"

"I think it's perfect." She smiles his way, the only smile that melted his heart; where it vows to love her for all the she could give.

His grin widened, before he shuts the stove off. Taking a step forward, with his hands wrapped around her waist. He pulls her closer, underneath the dim light in the kitchen.

He move the hair that's covering her eyes, and says to her.

"You're perfect and you got something over your lip." He says in amusement.

Her fingers immediately wanted to wipe it away, only for it to be stopped by max himself.

"Let me." He says before his thumb wiping it in a way, that makes her breath stops.

-

And afterwards, his hands were wrapped again upon her waist; as he pulls her into the kiss. Something about the way, their lips met makes her heart flutter in giddy, and yet there's a hint of desperation from his kiss that melts her. His kisses always done this to her, and she indulges it all.

After pulling away, as her hand is wrapped around her neck. She asks, "what was the for?"

He just shrugs, however the sly smirk is still intact.

"Do you wanna join in making our dessert together?"

She nods, excitedly - as they begin working on the dessert together. It's become a routine for them, him helping her with the paintings. And her, helping him to perfecting his recipes.

-

Something about a life like this everyday, feels right for them both. As it could be a routine in their own home, within the city that brings them both together. It feels right, it feels comfortable...it feels like.

Home. she thought.

It feels good to be home.

He huffed a laugh and they lapsed into silence again. They sat shoulder to shoulder with their backs against one of the benches, sharing body heat to keep from freezing in their damp clothes. Above them, thousands of stars stretched from one horizon to the other, and the twin moons shone brightly over the calm ocean.

It was a strange comfort, having Dorian with her. If she’d been alone with nothing to fret over but her own fate, she surely would’ve been lost to hysteria. He and his gunshot wound gave her something else to worry about, something to keep her focused, a task—keeping him alive—that no one else could accomplish given their situation.

“Do you think we would’ve been friends if we’d met under different circumstances?” he asked.

“Depends on the circumstances,” Tess replied lightly. “If Captain Dorian Hale the fearsome pirate had kidnapped me off a ship and held me for ransom, I doubt we would’ve been friends.”

“And if Tess Bowen, heiress and socialite, had stumbled upon a petty criminal in the streets of Ayrith? You wouldn’t have given me a second glance out of your carriage window.”

“You’re right,” she agreed. “It’s a good thing we met how we did, then, as I’ve rather enjoyed our time together.”

“Me too.” His words were quiet, but there was something… sad, almost, in his tone. Wistful.

She took his hand under the blankets and scooted closer. “Even if it did end up here: floating in the middle of the ocean with no food, no drinking water, and no oars.”

“Maybe the mermaids will bring us some fish,” Dorian said dryly.

She stared at him for a moment, trying to gauge if he was being serious, then gave in to the urge to laugh. What else was there to do—nothing in her life had prepared her for a moment like this. If the version of her who had arrived at Ayrith for the start of the social season could see her now, she would’ve been horrified by the impropriety of it all.

“Tess?”

“Mm?”

“Would you be upset if I kissed you?”

She tilted her head thoughtfully. “You’re injured, you’ve lost a lot of blood, and there’s a real possibility that we die of exposure before we reach any sort of help. I don’t think anyone would begrudge you a rash decision.”

“That was a lot of words and none of them were yes or no.”

“No, I wouldn’t be upset,” she said with a smile. None of her suitors back home would have bothered asking.

He leaned towards her and pressed his forehead to hers. His warm breath whispered across her skin but he didn’t draw any closer. His brow furrowed, and she could feel him shaking his head almost imperceptibly. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“It would ruin you.”

She wanted to laugh again. The social rules of reputation and respectability seemed absurd after dodging cannonfire and befriending mermaids. “Is that all?”

Dorian managed to look affronted for half a second before she raised her free hand to his jaw and pressed her lips to his. He was deliciously warm, if salty from his time in the ocean, and she angled her body so she could get closer without putting pressure on his injury.

Their boat jolted into motion, startling them apart. Tess pushed herself up so she could see the water around them—the mermaid pod had returned, and were pushing their boat at a far faster speed than they would’ve been able to achieve themselves.

She settled back in next to her pirate and curled into his side. “Always someone to interrupt, even when we’re the only humans for miles.”