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The Swede hurried into the kitchen, wringing his hands anxiously as he looked around for the Revenge’s chef come doctor. He jumped a little when the man appeared suddenly from the store room. The cigarette dangling from his lips quirked up as he smiled in greeting to the blonde.
“Hey. You here to help me with this?” Roach gestured to the sacks of supplies that they’d recently relieved a small merchant ship of.
Swede shook his head. “Can you take a look at this for me?”
Roach sighed. He had noticed Swede’s bloody split lip immediately - how could he not - but had tried to ignore it. Since the infamous scurvy incident, the Swede had become a little over cautious about his general health, particularly when it came to his teeth. He’d seen him take the blow to his face during today’s raid and was quietly impressed at how quickly the Swede had struck back, sending his assailant sprawling onto the deck. He assumed the man wouldn’t think too much about it.
“Fine,” he said, stubbing his cigarette out on the table and placing it behind his ear. “Step into my office.”
Swede smiled, showing a few blood-stained teeth. “Thank you. I think they might have knocked a tooth loose.”
Roach stopped himself from rolling his eyes and led the man further into the kitchen where there was a small window to provide better light. Best to get this over with.
“Stand here,” said Roach, pointing. “Open up.”
Doing as he was told, the Swede stood in front of Roach, his mouth open, hands awkwardly twisting around the rope hung about his neck. Roach peered in, his hand going to the Swede’s jaw to tilt his face to a better angle. He swallowed and tried to focus on the task at hand but his mind started wandering to thoughts he assumed he’d done a good job of burying.
When they were marooned on that small island he was ashamed to admit that he had entertained certain thoughts about his fellow crewmate. Mostly along the lines of what cuts would be the most tender and what kind of sauce he could craft from the scant foliage. After they were rescued and had a decent meal inside of them, he couldn’t look at the Swede for a few days.
Now, with the man closer to him than he had ever been, pliant and trusting, the dark red of the blood contrasting with the soft pink of his mouth, Roach was struck by how much he still wanted to know what he tasted like.
He leaned forward and boldly swiped his tongue over the swollen lip. The Swede jerked back, hand flying up to his mouth.
“What was-”
“Did that hurt?” Roach interrupted nonchalantly, as if it was standard procedure to lick your crewmate on the mouth. Swede’s eyebrows scrunched and he experimentally prodded his lip with his finger.
“No? But why did you…” The Swede trailed off, gesturing to his mouth.
Roach shrugged. “You asked me to check, didn’t you?” He was trying to keep his eyes fixed on the Swede’s and not let them stare at his lips. He’d mainly tasted the sharp tang of blood but he was sure that there was something else underneath. He just needed another taste. “This makes sure I can feel if anything is loose or chipped without causing more damage.”
At the mention of his beloved teeth, the Swede nodded. “Alright then.” He lowered his hand and, absently licking his lips, opened his mouth again. Roach felt a little bad at how easily the man trusted him but was immediately distracted by the soft pink flesh.
“Tell me if anything hurts, yeah?” said Roach. Swede nodded slightly, his cheeks dusting with a darkening blush as Roach leaned closer.
Gently Roach let his tongue touch Swede’s bottom lip, swiping it slowly across the lightly chapped skin. When he reached the cut he danced delicately around it, cleaning the dried blood. Swede made a soft sound in the back of his throat when Roach finally laped his tongue over the wound. It was only a small cut after all and had already stopped bleeding. Rather than being grateful that the injury was superficial, Roach was more pleased by the fact that there was no more blood to taint the flavour of his crewmate.
He switched his attention to the Swede’s top lip, sucking lightly and daring to run his tongue over the Swede’s teeth. He felt hot breath panting against his skin and a hand pressing against his chest. Roach pulled back a little. The Swede’s face was flushed, eyes screwed shut.
“Um,” Swede started, “you don’t have to check there.” He blinked open his eyes but flitted his gaze away to a point somewhere over Roach’s shoulder. “It’s, um, over here, mostly.” His hand fluttered to the side of his face where his lip was split.
“Yeah, no, right,” said Roach. He swallowed again. “Thought I’d examine everything, you know. While we’re here.”
Roach watched as the blonde mulled this over and noticed that his hand which had gently held the other’s jaw had, at some point, been joined by its twin. He felt more than saw the Swede nod once more. Before he could open his mouth, Roach used his thumbs to coax the now moist lips apart and dove in before either could lose their nerve.
Swede made a choked sound and fisted his hand into Roach’s shirt as the chef’s tongue plunged into his mouth. Roach was frantic yet methodical, running his tongue over each tooth in turn, relishing in the new flavours and textures. He focused on the roof of the Swede’s mouth, his gums, the silky skin on the inside of his lips. The mix of sensations was heady. Roach sucked eagerly at Swede’s tongue, drawing out another breathy sound from the blonde. He could make out a hint of something completely unique, something Roach had never tasted before. It was intoxicating.
When the need for air became too much, Roach pulled back, gasping. Swede nearly toppled onto him, his legs shaky. It took a few moments for the two to get their breath back. There was a glazed look in the Swede’s eyes as he stared at Roach. Roach openly stared back. He was sure he could feel the heat radiating off of the Swede’s face, or perhaps he was only feeling their damp breaths in the close space between them like a rising steam.
The Swede gingerly licked his now swollen lips. “You taste like smoke,” he said.
Roach’s eyes had followed the movement and was now staring at Swede’s slightly parted mouth. The flesh of his lips looked like a ripe fruit and all Roach wanted at that moment was to bite them.
“Sorry,” he mumbled before he did. It was a playful nip and he made sure to avoid the cut. The Swede gasped but didn’t pull away, so he did it again. He easily licked his way back into the Swede’s warm mouth and was pleasantly surprised to feel the blonde’s tongue tentatively glide along his own.
Roach lost track of how long they stood there, languidly savouring every mouthful of one another, slowly picking apart every nuance of their intermingled flavours. Neither overpowered the other, only complimenting each other’s unique palette. Eventually, they both eased back, lips then hands, then physical distance.
Another warmth started to fill the room, but this was more oppressive and uncomfortable. Neither man looked at the other. The Swede composed himself, still red in the face, and mumbled an excuse. He tried to step around Roach to leave the kitchen when the chef placed a hand on his shoulder. He could’ve shrugged him off and left but he stopped. When Roach didn’t move or say anything, Swede turned to face him.
Roach didn’t say anything but just looked into the Swede’s eyes. Then, ever so slowly, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to the blonde’s burning cheek. Roach lingered for a moment then patted the Swede’s shoulder, placing his cigarette back between his teeth before going back to the store room.
The Swede hurried out of the kitchen, wringing his hands together to stop himself from touching his cheek.