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"Stop," Coby breathed. "If we get caught…"
"If," Helmeppo countered. "It's—" he paused, and in the dark, a bell rang — once, twice, a pause, once more. "— it's third bell.* No one but the watch is awake, and they're probably half asleep at their posts. No one's going to catch us." He paused, then pressed a hand lightly against Coby's chest. "If you really didn't want this, you would've stayed in bed."
He was right. Coby was terrified of getting caught — but he'd still followed Helmeppo out here, to this secluded little corner of the ship, and he wasn't about to turn back and go to bed. No matter how much his conscience nagged at him that it was the smart thing, the obedient thing, the right thing to do. Smart and obedient and right were all important, but sometimes you just needed a moment to be human. And the two of them — they'd found that in each other, their shared efforts at gaining acceptance as Marines binding them close and their shared loneliness cementing them together.
His gaze had wandered as he sorted his thoughts, and when he pulled it back to his partner-in-crime's face, he saw triumph glinting there. "You know I'm right," Helmeppo pointed out, a lingering echo of his past self-satisfied smugness lurking in his tone. "And I know you're not leaving."
"... No, I'm not," Coby admitted. "It's been a long few days."
The Vice-Admiral had been working them harder than ever before — working Coby especially hard. He was bone-tired, and every waking hour, on watch or off it, had been filled with surprise attacks or abrupt interrogations on all manner of sea knowledge. He hadn't had a moment to himself — or a breath to spare for his best friend — for much longer than he liked.
So, a little sleep was worth sacrificing, even if it put them here.
"And we're both dog-tired," Helmeppo agreed. "But… I need this. You need this."
"Yeah." Coby leaned back against the wall and tugged Helmeppo in close. Just… just to be close, to hold onto him and lean against him and breathe his scent. Funny how fast it had gone from alarming to comforting during the pressure-cooker of their training together. But Helmeppo himself had changed a lot during that time, too — had blossomed, in Coby's way of thinking, once he was out from under his disdainful, angry father's shadow. Once he was actually a Marine, not a hanger-on, he'd found some real pride, much better than the false bravado he'd once wrapped around himself.
If they were found like this, they might not get in trouble. Or at least, not very much. Just leaning in close together, this could be called friendship or partnership. He could say the night wind on the ocean was cold. But these little sessions of their never stayed that innocent, and Marine rules against fraternization were strict. Within your unit was grounds for permanent reassignment; within your chain of command would permanently derail your career, and with your battle partner? You'd likely never see each other again. And fair or not, if they did get caught, Coby would be the one held more responsible. He was, after all, the alpha, and the one being more pointedly groomed for command. The rules could say they were gender-neutral all they liked, that men and women, alphas and betas and omegas, were all Marines first and foremost, but these things still had a way of coming through. If anyone found them, it was Coby who'd take the brunt of the fallout.
But he didn't feel like he could keep up day after day without these moments, and so he threaded his fingers into salt-rough blond hair and kissed Helmeppo. They had no witnesses but the stars and the night wind, here in their secluded little corner of the deck, hidden in the shadow of the quarterdeck stair.
Which was what Helmeppo had wanted from the start. Satisfaction curled in his scent, and he answered Coby's kiss, leaning in against him and pulling Coby's other arm around his waist. It felt good to hold him — felt good to kiss him — felt good to have this contact, to have this moment just for each other, to be two young men and not two disciplined Marines.
Coby started to press forward, to nudge Helmeppo's lips open — and froze. Were those footsteps he heard, the heavy tread of a grown adult instead of the lighter steps of one of the boys on watch? His arm around Helmeppo's waist tightened, pulling the tall omega deeper into the shadows with him, and he broke the kiss to tilt his head back, listening carefully through the sudden thunder of his heart.
Yes. Footsteps. A heavy tread, the rolling gait of a lifelong sailor. Definitely not one of the boys who made up most of the crew of this training vessel. He couldn't quite tell if it was Garp, but getting caught by a captain who would race straight to the Vice-Admiral to report wouldn't be any better. Might even be worse.
Helmeppo had frozen when Coby did, but he was more daring, or less cautious, or something — because Coby felt fingers slide up his chest, up the side of his throat, to rub circles over the sensitive scent gland just behind his jaw.
His eyes snapped open, and in the dark, he stared wildly at Helmeppo. He couldn't risk saying anything — could barely risk breathing — but he mouthed, distinct and emphatic in the dark. What are you doing!?
Helmeppo's only answer was a teasing grin. And then he leaned in and replaced his fingers with his tongue, and it was all Coby could to do choke back the sound that wanted to escape. No fair! He made a fist, nearly thumped on Helmeppo's back to make him stop — realized at the last second that the sound would give them away just as surely as a groan or a gasp would.
The footsteps paused — up on the quarterdeck, he thought, not right above them but near. If only he'd made progress with learning Haki the way Garp was starting to tell him he'd need to! But as of yet, he'd only had the very dimmest flickers of anything, and that was when he wasn't distracted...
A sigh from up above, loud and gusty, and the sound of a lighter flicking. The scent of tobacco. Shit, shit, it wasn't just one of the captains making rounds, he was stopping not five meters from their little tryst for a bloody smoke break at one-thirty in the bloody morning.
Helmeppo nipped at Coby's throat and breathed into his ear. "Touch me." It was the softest sound, nearly inaudible, a whisper of nothing in the wind, but Coby tensed as though it were a shout, and shook his head, hard, emphatic. Are you insane?
What he got in return was a mischievous grin and a hand curling with his, pulling him until his palm settled against the nape of Helmeppo's neck. It was one of his favorite spots for attention, Coby knew. He liked having it touched, clasped, squeezed, nipped. Coby liked the way he reacted when he got it, the way he'd lose that so-brittle 'cool' posturing and lean into genuine pleasure.
Warm lips pressed against the soft skin under his ear, and he shuddered and gripped at Helmeppo's nape. Above them, the unseen, unknown captain sighed deeply and began to whistle a soft, haunting melody.
We're dead. We're so dead.
Coby pressed his lips together like his life depended on it and set his determination to not make a single sound, no matter how slight or how small, no matter what Helmeppo got it in his head to do to get a reaction out of him. He had the control. He needed to rise to the challenge.
And, some wild part of him thought, he wasn't just going to sit and take it, either. He pulled Helmeppo into a kiss, hard and commanding the way he almost never was.
Challenge accepted.