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Vasco wakes slowly, like the waves that crash against the hull of the ship when they’re docked at port; it does sound unusually quiet on the ship though and something tells him to get up and go see what his men are doing lazing about, but he can’t find it in himself to rise. Sun streams through the window in his cabin as he shifts in the bed, arching his lower back as he digs his face further into the pillow. The warmth bleeds along his back and he lets out a long sigh as he begins to lull deeper into sleep once more. That is until the scent of cinnamon and leather reaches his senses, and he cracks a single golden eye open, taking in the crimson walls and unfamiliar portraits on the walls.
He realizes all at once that he is in fact, not aboard his ship nor is he in his bed in his captain’s quarters, but in an unfamiliar yet very familiar bed. He lifts his head, blinking blearily around the room, then he turns to his side where he sees De Sardet quietly flicking through a few documents that Petrus wanted him to review from the night before.
“You snore like an old dog when you’re completely exhausted,” he says without moving his sharp eyes from the pages. “Did you know that?”
Vasco blinks again, flopping over onto his side to lazily stare at De Sardet. “How long have you been awake?”
“A few hours, give or take a couple minutes.”
“You should’ve woken me,” Vasco mutters, rolling onto his back, though he inconspicuously shifts closer to De Sardet’s side. “I’m sure the others are wondering why we haven’t set out yet.”
“And yet, none have come up here to tell me that they want to, so I think we’re in the clear.” De Sardet absentmindedly curls his arm around Vasco’s head, palm flat along his toned and tan chest, thumb brushing circles in his skin. “How are you feeling?”
“Not as sore as I assumed I would be.”
“I can’t help but wonder if perhaps that is a good thing because I was thorough on preparation or if it is a bad thing because I didn’t perform well. The latter would severely damage my pride.”
Vasco can’t help but snicker and he turns his head, lips brushing against De Sardet’s hand as he replies, “Preparation was good, and you were even better.”
“Well, now I feel like you’re just stroking my ego.”
“I am, but don’t let it go to your head,” he murmurs, turning back to face him. “It’s in fact, quite large.”
De Sardet still hasn’t looked at him, and Vasco hopes that the next words that come from the Legate’s mouth after this aren’t what his worst fears are. Because he’s slept with nobles before but he also knows that this might be the last time he ever does.
He clears his throat quietly, gazing out the window as he repeats aloud, “Those who fear the waters should stay within the shore’s sight. Those who fear the pain that love procures, should shun the flames when love endures. And both shall be safe from founder and blight.” His fingers dig into his ribs in hesitation. “That’s the next part of the poem. De Sardet…are you afraid of sinking?”
“Hmm…”
It’s a quick and clean grunt that severs every muscle in Vasco’s young and fiery heart. A flame so carefully tended suddenly snuffed out, deprived of life. And it hurts. It hurts worse than the first time he’d ever gotten his heart broken.
“I understand,” he murmurs, trying not to let his heart fall out of his throat, tears in his eyes as he slips from the warmth of the noble beside him, feet touching the cold floor that causes the second break in reality as it really comes to life that De Sardet didn’t want him like he did. How could he be so foolish as to offer a noble his heart? Him, a man with nothing to his name, nothing to offer De Sardet in terms of equality. A single sailor with nothing. “I swear I won’t let this affect our work. I’ll see to it that—”
“For if water could quench loves dying embers, your love that burns and pain and severs, I would douse this fire with the sea of all my tears.”
Vasco stops dead in his tracks, staring up at De Sardet in shock, fingers stilling from where he was tying his pant laces. Did he just—
“Such an impatient lover I have,” he notes, finally looking up over the documents; his eyes pierce the very depths of Vasco’s soul as he adds, almost chastising, “You are not the only one who has read that poem more times than he cares to admit in order to one day speak it to the one he loves.”
“You…you feel the same?”
De Sardet merely raises a hand, crooks a finger in a beckoning motion that books no room for any other answer than to obey; and Vasco obeys, crawling back onto the bed as he watches the Legate set the documents on the table followed by the glasses he’d been wearing, and Vasco has half a mind to make a joke about him being hard of sight and that’s why his accuracy is terrible.
He pulls Vasco down atop him, wrapping his arms around the Naut’s bare back, one arm secured tightly around his middle, the other hand firmly at the back of his neck, thumb brushing the base of his skull.
“I thought you didn’t feel the same as I.”
“Now we know to wait before we jump to conclusions, Captain Vasco,” he retorts, tugging at a caramel strand; he sighs wistfully, hugging the sailor impossibly close as he buries his nose in Vasco’s hair, breathing in the scent of gunpowder and sea salt. “I would follow you to the ends of the earth if it meant I would be with you forever, Vasco,” he murmurs, hand shifting from the back of his neck to cup his chin, tilting the sailor’s face to look at him; he gently caresses the cheek of his lover and confesses, “I love you.”
Vasco’s entire body feels as light as the sail catching a breeze and he smiles at De Sardet. “We shall set sail on the bitter seas together, my Tempest.”
The man’s expression softens in a way that Vasco has never seen before and suddenly knows that it is only for him; he lays his head back down on De Sardet’s chest, eyes slipping shut as he breathes in deeply, all negative feelings leaving his body.
And as much as he doesn’t want to say it, he does. “And we should begin to get ready. We can’t waste daylight. We’ve too much to do.”
De Sardet lets out a long and whiney sounding groan, wallowing against the bedsheets as Vasco laughs. “I do not want to move. I want to stay here all day.”
I want to stay here all day with you. Is the unspoken that has goosebumps rising all over Vasco’s body and he rises slightly, shimmying up De Sardet’s body until he can bury his face in the noble’s neck. “We can spend one more hour here.”
“I am the Legate of the Congregation of Merchants. If I so choose to stay in bed all day with my lover then I shall.”
It makes Vasco giddy to hear him be called De Sardet’s lover. “One hour.”
“You’re no fun.”
“Someone has to keep you accountable.”
“Then in turn, someone must also keep me satisfied,” De Sardet purrs, and it takes all of one intake of breath before Vasco is staring dazedly up at the Legate who is wearing a rather hungry look. “Well, well, well, look what we have here. I seem to have found my source of satisfaction.”
Vasco squirms under De Sardet’s heavy grip, suddenly very aware of how close their hips are, practically slotted together. “De Sardet…” he starts. “We don’t have enough time for this.”
“Oh, we have enough,” he replies, dipping down to take the sailor’s lips in a searing kiss that has Vasco panting when they part, body set aflame with desire; De Sardet nudges their noses. “I love you,” he murmurs, fingers tracing at the black-inked tattoos along Vasco’s chest and abdomen.
The Naut swallows thickly, unable to fight the fluttering in his chest as he breathes softly, “I love you, my Tempest.”