FIC: The Best Laid Plans (2/3): Flynn Fairwind/Mathias Shaw (World of Warcraft)
Chapter one here or whole thing on AO3!
Chapter Two
Flynn waited a reasonable - and definitely not paranoid, given Mathias’s skill at espionage didn’t diminish at sea - amount of time to open the triple-locked chest beneath the bunk of his cabin on the Arva and slip out a familiar scroll case. Rolled up carefully among the trove of his most valuable I.O.U.s and a few favourite letters from Mathias were a couple of sheets of parchment, in their own unique code.
He was quite proud of the cipher he’d used, which was based on the pages of a Steamy Romance Novel. While Mathias was occasionally amenable to him reading some of the saucier passages out loud, Flynn knew he would never willingly leaf through Stormy Seas - and Flynn certainly wasn’t going to part with his signed copy in the first place.
Feeling safer from prying eyes than he had in weeks, Flynn sat down at the desk, shoved his map of the Dragon Isles to one side, and looked down at the dog-eared pages in front of him.
A FOR-ONCE-NOT-INDECENT PROPOSAL
TO DO:
Find perfect location
Identify perfect time
Obtain perfect ring
Write perfect speech
PLACES:
Meaningful
Accessible
Must be somewhere I can get M without suspicion
Duskwood - not going back if I can help it
Silvermoon - unlikely to get invited again anytime soon.
(note to self: order sin’dorei silk bedsheets for less decent part of proposal)
Stormwind Lighthouse - can’t let people know we’re there and start digging (literally - hah!)
Country cabin - takes a miracle to drag M away for a trip
Home - could put ring on Ruby’s collar
Docks on arrival - bit public for M? Crew would be insufferable, too
Flynn leaned back in his chair until he hit the bulkhead. The problem with having an incomparable spy for a boyfriend was that a solid sixty percent of their most meaningful places were either highly dangerous, highly classified, or very far away. He could never have anticipated that the best months of his life would be those he’d spend completely landlocked, travelling the length of the Kingdoms with only one other person for company; but the intimacy he and Mathias had built during that mission was more valuable than any plunder.
Unfortunately, dragging the man all the way up to the Hinterlands so he could propose in the cave where they’d made passionate love while sheltering from a lightning storm was hardly a viable option.
He also liked to think he had more imagination than to simply pop the question at home, much as he adored the house in Stormwind with its eclectic mix of trinkets from Flynn’s travels and Mathias’s gradually-growing collection of personal items.
“You know, you’re allowed to have opinions about the décor, love,” Flynn had teased, setting aside the picture he was putting up. “This is our house, not just mine. Tides know I would fill it with all sorts of rubbish if I had the chance, but you’re supposed to live here too.”
Mathias stood in the middle of the room, clearly overwhelmed. “I shouldn’t care about one stupid painting.”
“And why not?” Flynn pushed, folding his arms and putting on his best unimpressed face.
“I…” He reached up to fuss with his moustache, a nervous gesture Flynn was becoming increasingly familiar with. “It’s not what I do, Flynn. I can’t afford to let my feelings be swayed by things like this.”
Flynn muttered, “Unbelievable,” and strode over, putting his hands on Mathias’s shoulders gently. “I don’t want you to eat dinner sitting under a painting you hate because you think someone will exploit the fact you have feelings about it.” Mathias winced, so Flynn knew he was on the right track. “Anyone who thinks a man in your position can be brought down by his loathing of pictures of lighthouses is an idiot. And I’m including you in that statement.”
Mathias gave a small laugh at that, but still looked at Flynn as if he’d hung the moons.
“It’s less the lighthouse, and more the colour palette,” he asserted with a shake of his head, swallowing hard and holding Flynn’s gaze. “You’re the first person who’s made me feel as if I can want things for myself,” he added eventually, voice rough with emotion. It made Flynn want to take arms against everyone who had a hand in moulding him into nothing more than the dagger in the dark.
“You’re a person first and a job title second, love. I don’t want to live with Master Shaw, who fades into the shadows behind the doorway. I want to live with Mathias, who prefers the purple bedspread, would like to set fire to my artwork, and desperately wants a cabinet for his whittled birds, much as he tells himself they’re mere trifles.”
“Thank you,” Mathias whispered, pulling Flynn into a fierce kiss. They had christened the dining table that evening, and the lighthouse painting had been relegated to the galley of the Bold Arva.
That no one else in Mathias’s life had let him believe it was okay to be human made Flynn’s blood boil, and even now it felt like a struggle to get him to admit what he wanted: Ruby being a case in point. They had built their home into a sanctuary, and it would be a perfectly adequate place for a marriage proposal - but Mathias deserved more than just adequate, and Flynn was determined to give it to him.
Flynn sighed, turning his attention to the next section of his list.
TIMING:
Perhaps after one of us has been away? Take advantage of highest level of emotional neediness!
Must get M away from work for at least a couple of hours
At sea - no distractions? Need to get M a valid reason to sail with us - never thought I’d be keen for an intercontinental crisis
The problem was, Flynn's desire to propose had gone from a vague longing that arose in his chest each time they parted to a constant phrase on the tip of his tongue. It was getting harder and harder not just to blurt out 'Marry me' at an inopportune moment. He'd reached the point of physically having to clamp his mouth shut.
He had to come up with a plan soon, or he’d end up blurting out the world’s clumsiest proposal while Mathias was lecturing the new recruits, or sharpening his daggers, or giving a particularly spectacular blow job.
Flynn knew that Mathias had, from the beginning, felt freer at sea: before they were really together, he spoke wistfully of their nights sailing for Zuldazar, and how he had managed to find some measure of peace tucked away in the captain’s cabin of the Arva with Flynn, in between encrypted memos and hostile weather. It was even better now, on the rare occasions where Mathias had to travel by ship: with his guard down and Flynn no longer hiding in the bottom of a bottle, it felt as if they could both just be for a while.
It couldn’t, of course, ever happen without a mission: as often as Mathias said he wished he could stow away and avoid Turalyon’s more erratic demands, he was never going to be spared just to join Flynn for a sunny jaunt to Pandaria. There would always be reports swimming up in mechanical sharks, and danger waiting on the far shore: the only blessing was that wherever Master Shaw had to go by sea, Flynn was now the only captain permitted to take him.
Apparently their relationship was a good cover story for Mathias’s presence on board the Arva at any given moment. Which was, frankly, ridiculous, because the odds of him leaving Stormwind for love rather than duty were too long even for a gambler like Flynn, but apparently Mathias’s enemies didn’t know him at all.
Frustratingly, even on his worst behaviour, Flynn could hardly manufacture an incident serious enough to get Mathias shipped off with him so he could pop the question.
“I need a drink,” he announced to himself, leaving his chair briefly to grab a bottle of emergency whiskey and take a hearty swig. He froze.
He knew exactly where this whiskey was from. It was a dwarven small batch from Loch Modan, which he’d first sampled in Stormwind, on an evening which would forever be ingrained in his memory. “Don’t be late,” Shaw had said, so Flynn had cleaned up and rushed out even though he knew Shaw would be in debriefings for hours. He hadn’t wanted to get sloshed while he waited, so he’d ordered a top-shelf spirit to nurse while he turned over the blade of grass in his hands and let himself hope.
The Gilded Rose, he wrote. Evening. Request private table. Tell M not to be late. Me - Thelsamar Single Malt; M - find name of that wine asap.
With a sigh of relief and a satisfied grin, Flynn turned to the next page. Now for the hardest part.
RING
Stormwind jewellers
Boralus jewellers
Literally any continent this side of the Dark Portal????
The place where Kelson got his gold teeth
Oribos - Taelia? Brokers currency query…
Bloke in cave in Drustvar who makes silver charms against witches
Ask goblins for a hook-up? - too expensive
He sighed and looked at the map of Azeroth pinned up beside the bookshelf. Definitely not Kalimdor or the Eastern Kingdoms. He was too well known in Kul Tiras to do anything discreetly. The Dragon Isles were still crawling with adventurers, and Northrend always had tons of eyes and ears, especially now it was without a Lich King. Mathias had told him how underprepared they were for Pandaria when Anduin had run off there decades ago, and Flynn knew they wouldn’t make that mistake again. Honestly, with the King still missing, SI:7 was, quite literally, everywhere.
It seemed utterly hopeless. Maybe he should ask the question first, and then they could go out and buy rings later. It wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to choose them together, a matching set for when they were actually married.
But Flynn was rather attached to his messy sketch of the ring; the design was perfect and he desperately wanted to see it on Mathias's finger.
He had won with longer odds than this; he just had to figure out how to stack the deck. At least he had a good few weeks to do it, since there were no SI:7 eyes and ears on the ship. If only Axleq were a blacksmith instead of a carpenter - not that there was any place for a forge on a wooden vessel.
“By the Tidemother,” he exclaimed, dropping his quill with a spattering of ink and making a frantic dash down to the mess.
“Latimer!” he exclaimed. “Latimer, I need your help!”
The tidesage immediately stood to attention in alarm, as did the rest of the crew.
“Oh, no, not help help,” Flynn clarified, holding his hands up to placate everyone. “More like, a huge personal favour.”
“Oh yeah? What's in it for me?” Latimer folded his arms in challenge, and Flynn despaired of the fact that even honest Kul Tiran sailors had finely honed plundering instincts.
It used to be simple to just offer up a larger share of the loot, but now that he was a supposedly reputable seaman reporting to the crown, that wasn't really an option. “How about, for the next three champions I take on private island tours, I’ll give you fifty percent of the dubloons.”
Latimer cocked his head to one side in thought, then nodded. “All right, I’ll bite. What do you need?”
“I need something crafted, but it can’t be done in port - prying eyes and all that,” Flynn began.
“Hey, I’m ya carpenter, and Trylla sews the sails,” Axleq piped up, gesturing between himself and his wife with his mug. “If we ain’t craftin’ shit, what’re we gettin’ paid for?”
“Relax, mate,” Flynn replied, “this is outside your wheelhouse. Unless you can use waterforging to make storm silver trinkets, in which case you can have an apology and a healthy bonus.”
“Yeah, metalworkin’ ain’t our thing, cap’n,” Trylla conceded cheerily, “but please keep us in mind for all future commissions!”
“Goblins,” muttered Latimer, and Flynn looked at him in disbelief.
“As if you didn’t just refuse to help me out until I’d agreed to pay you,” he pointed out with a laugh.
Latimer guffawed. “Aye, you’ve got me there! Now what is it you’re wanting? If I can’t do it, there’ll be someone down at the Monastery who can - but not if this is like the time you asked Brother Pike to bless a set of dice.”
Flynn tried to look chagrined, but he felt no shame about having asked the esteemed tidesage - granted, perhaps a formal soiree at Proudmoore Keep wasn’t the time and place, but he would have kicked himself for not seizing the opportunity. “Is there anyone who doesn’t know about that? I swear, you tidesages are bigger gossips than the Academy cadets. Let it be known that I am good enough at dice that I don’t need the Tidemother’s blessing.”
“You cheat,” shouted Novi from the galley.
“Got me this ship, which got you this job,” Flynn called back.
Novi just snorted in response, but still came through with a mug of very boozy coffee for him.
“What're you looking to have made, then?” asked Latimer, all business, and Flynn suddenly felt very self-conscious.
“This goes no further than the ship, you hear me?” he said, managing to sound every inch the stern captain. “I mean it, there are eyes and ears everywhere.”
Novi’s eyes went wide. “Do you need a murder weapon, captain?”
“Oh, I want a piece of that action!” his gunner Rufus piped up, Scythe the cat suddenly alert beside him.
Flynn rolled his eyes. “Number one, this is not a pirate ship, and wanton slaughter is off the table.” He began to count on his fingers. “Number two, I have perfectly serviceable weapons on me at all times, thank you very much. Number three, if I did want someone quietly assassinated, I would entrust that task to my capable and fearless fia - partner - who is far less likely to blab about it while he’s in his cups.”
Rufus’s face fell, and he took a desultory swig of his ale.
“Tell you what, next time some idiot tries to raid us, you can be first in line to incapacitate them, Rufus, how does that sound?”
Rufus’s face brightened again immediately. Flynn really worried about his crew sometimes.
“Interesting, Cap’n,” said Trylla with a smirk, “I coulda sworn you almost called Shaw your fiancé.”
Flynn blushed. “Yes, well, he’s not quite yet. I was actually hoping that Latimer would be able to help me get a ring crafted so I can pop the question.”
“That’ll be delicate work,” Latimer observed, “but the Tidemother will guide my hand. You already got the storm silver?”
Flynn nodded, “Had it blessed and everything. Also got some truesilver from the mainland ready. Give me one second…” He dashed back to his cabin, buoyed immeasurably by the idea that he might actually be able to make this happen, and get to see a vanishingly rare look of surprise on Mathias’s face. He dug through his footlocker and came out with a few ingots, wrapped in the parchment where he had painstakingly drawn out the design.
He hurried back down to the mess and spread everything out on the table, and Latimer cracked his knuckles. “Right, I’ve got an hour till my watch starts. Talk me through it.”
~~~~
By the time the Arva docked in Iskaara, Latimer had already begun to “put tentacles out” for advice from the other tidesages through some kind of watery network that Flynn couldn’t envisage, and Flynn was feeling more optimistic than he had in a long time.
He whistled happily as the crew started to disembark, and even the disorientation of talking through cargo manifests with the glowing mirror image of a dragon aspect couldn’t dampen his spirits.
“Mail call, Cap!” shouted Aimee, the cabin girl, handing over a few scrolls. Flynn’s eyes were immediately drawn to the familiar seal on one of them, but before he could make his excuses she tugged on his hand.
“Are you comin’ for soup?” she asked eagerly. “Everyone says it’s a-maz-ing!”
“Actually, I still have some paperwork to attend to on the ship,” Flynn began.
“You want to read the letter from your boy-friend,” she interrupted, and Flynn once again despaired at how little authority he seemed to have over his crew. “But you can do that later. I can’t bring you soup aboard or I’ll spill it everywhere.” She looked up at him, eyes wide and guileless.
Kalecgos’s mirror image chuckled beside him. “It is especially good soup,” he added, “and even better company, I’m sure.”
Flynn heaved a theatrical sigh. “How can I possibly resist?”
He shoved his various mail scrolls in his pockets, making sure Mathias’s was safely tucked away inside his coat, and let Aimee lead the way.
A few hours later, full of deliciously fishy soup that made him rather homesick for Kul Tiran cooking, the anticipation became too much: it felt as if Mathias’s letter was burning a hole in Flynn’s pocket, and he kept reaching in to make sure it was still there.
He headed back to the ship with a few of the crew, and forced himself to keep to their meandering pace rather than giving into the impulse to dash ahead.
At last, he was safely behind his cabin door, and he unfurled the scroll with trembling fingers, heart in his throat and quill at hand to decipher the careful code.
My dearest Flynn,
By the time you receive this, a week will have passed. I hope your passage to Iskaara was refreshingly uneventful, and that you and the crew are safe and enjoying the Tuskarr’s hospitality.
I have a feeling you will love their cooking. You and I will forever disagree on whether aromatic fish oil belongs in every dish: I do not miss being stationed in Boralus, although the view from my post of the Middenwake and its beautiful captain was beyond compare. I only wish I had recognised the potential in our relationship sooner.
I am feeling particularly wistful this morning. I miss you terribly, though it has only been a few days since your departure. I continue to be amazed at how easily our lives fit together, and how dramatically different everything feels while you are away. At work, I can sense your presence at my shoulder. I imagine your cutting observations about my agents, your irrepressible humour as I grow increasingly stressed throughout the day. I brace myself for a touch to my arm reminding me to rest; I hear your familiar footsteps outside my office as you come to break the monotony with an anecdote, a coffee, a kiss.
I have never told you this, but when you are away I don’t use your side of the bed. I know you prefer to sprawl like a starfish in my absence, but I’ve grown so used to having you beside me that I find it impossible to take a space that is so irrevocably yours.
It is not the case that I lost hope of finding someone with whom to share my life: rather, I hadn’t even dreamed of the possibility until you came along and broke through my walls. You know this, but I fear I do not tell you enough. You saw the torn and frayed map of my life, and with patience, determination, and love, helped me chart a different course. You wrote over all my carefully laid plans, and in bold strokes created something new and altogether beautiful.
Whether we are at home in Stormwind, or thrown to the opposite ends of Azeroth, I know that we walk together. I take fewer risks in the field, and trust that you are also less reckless - though nothing is without peril in our lines of work, I hold true to the knowledge that we both do everything in our power to return to one another. That I can have so much faith in another person still shakes me to my core.
I confess, the one thing I do use of yours is your pillow. I breathe your familiar scent, and my mind travels back to the Zandalari ship in Stormwind docks, to the Bold Arva: the first times I held you, wittingly and unwittingly. I feel the same thrill in your arms even now.
If I lie still and close my eyes, I can feel your breath on the back of my neck, the ghost of your arm around my waist. I sink into your phantom embrace, breathing you in and finding peace for a moment.
Perhaps in my next letter I will tell you more about what it does to me to bury my face in your pillow and surround myself with you, and what else I imagine for us, pressed together in our bed. Consider it a reward for reaching Dragonblight and the turning point of your voyage, to put the wind in your sails for a swift return.
Until then, I remain
Yours always,
Mathias
~~~~
My darling, dashing Mathias,
First off, it was incredibly cruel of you to end your letter on that cliffhanger! I expect nothing less than a full Steamy Romance Novel in my mailbox when I get to Northrend.
I love the way you write - even your dry mission reports manage to make me feel something, you know? The document you made on the Eastern Kingdoms for the King reads like the best history book - though the additions by your delightful travelling companion are certainly part of the appeal.
And your letters! That last one really took me on a journey, love. Laughter and sorrow, longing and awe and adoration, and the tiniest promise of horniness right at the end… it’s almost a shame that no one else gets to see that side of you. Almost. These letters are kept so secure that only one rogue alive could possibly get to them. (That’s you. Also me, but I created the cache, so sadly have no need of my incredible lockpicking skills!)
Anyway, your letter has made me miss you even more than I already did: I just want to reach across the ocean and hold you tight. But also suck your cock. I’ve been on a dramatic rollercoaster of emotions since I glimpsed your seal in my stack of post!
At least sailing keeps me busy, though I have to admit I’ve had more booze than usual this trip - you and I were so lucky to have that whole month together before this, but it makes it even harder to be apart. Axleq and Trylla have noticed that I’m a bit more moody than usual. I quote: “Redheads on board are s’posed to be bad luck, but Cap's a heck of a lot nicer when he’s got his fella around!”
I imagine it’s worse at home, though you do have Ruby now. I’m hoping that the need to take care of her has helped pull you away from your desk, though if I were a betting man (which I am!) I would say that you’ve created a little nest for her in your secret office behind the bookcase. I’m right, aren’t I? I bet Shiv thinks it’s hilarious that you’ve got a pet squirrelled (foxed?) away in there. Just don’t let her sneak out in stealth… though she could definitely teach your recruits a thing or two about remaining undetected (and how to steal their dad’s lunch out from under his nose - I’m still mad about that sandwich!).
I hope you’re reading this at home, lying resolutely on your side of the bed - which is really odd, by the way! If someone asked me the best thing about you being out in the field, it would absolutely be getting a whole bed to myself. Second place would be the letters, and then the passionate reunion, and then knowing that afterwards you’ll be safely in one place for a bit.
Speaking of passionate reunions, are you interested in what I would be doing to you if I were there? Other than making sure you’re fed and watered, of course?
How vividly do you imagine me, love? You say you can feel my arm around your waist, my breath on your neck… can you sense the kisses I press against your shoulders, the way I slide my leg between yours, intertwining us as closely as possible? I can envisage the exact moment when you yield to me, tipping your head back so I can kiss you properly before working my way down your jaw.
I would be biting you, just shy of leaving a mark, and you would wrap your leg around mine, pulling me in closer, desperate for the press of skin-on-skin. I would run a hand across your chest, toying with your nipples and teasing you with the lightest pressure of my fingertips. You would kiss me again and try to catch your breath so you can let me know that it’s not enough, that you want me to move lower, to give you attention where you most need it. And because you have spread yourself out so beautifully, and I can feel every inch of your heated body against mine, I would give in, and reach down to wrap my hand around -
And I believe that’s a story for the next port. Turnabout’s fair play, love!
Until then, I will be thinking of you and the space between us. May the Tidemother watch over us both, and bless us with a swift reunion.
All my heart,
Flynn
P.S. I love you xxx
P.P.S. THANK YOU for the treats you slipped into my pack, you sneaky thing - I hope the chocolates weren’t code for anything this time, because they disappeared in short order!
P.P.P.S. I mean it about not letting Ruby slip out: I’m still settling the bill with that dwarf whose garden she ransacked.
~~~~
It boggled Flynn’s mind that even after so long, seeing his partner waiting on the docks made his heart skip a beat every time. It would be even better when he could think of him as his husband, and the idea made him smile uncontrollably. He clenched his fist to stop himself from reaching into the pocket where the newly-forged ring was hidden.
“You’re looking unusually cheerful,” Mathias called over as they threw down the mooring ropes.
“Can’t a man be pleased to be home?” he asked, smile growing even wider as Mathias raised an eyebrow.
“Another man could be, but you can’t grin like that without arousing my suspicions.”
“That’s not what I want to arouse, mate, but it’s a start,” Flynn threw back with a wink, to laughter and wolf-whistles from the crew around him.
Mathias shook his head in despair, but when Flynn could finally vault down and wrap him in his arms, he returned the embrace fiercely, grasping Flynn’s coat as if he never meant to let go.
Sadly, he did let go, before Flynn could properly breathe in his familiar scent of steel and leather and parchment, but stayed close, arms loosely wrapped around Flynn’s waist. “Do you have to head over and report to Jaina?” he asked.
“Thankfully the Blue Dragonflight are all over this one, so most of the debriefing and cargo tracking was done back in Iskaara. Just the routine check-in with the Harbourmaster and we’re done here. Don’t suppose you’re able to finish early today…?” Flynn trailed a teasing hand down Mathias’s spine, relishing the slight shudder that ran unbidden through his body. He understood Mathias’s natural caution, but couldn’t resist pushing his luck after so long apart.
Mathias gave him a stern look, but didn’t move away, which Flynn counted as a victory. “I scheduled all my meetings for this morning, so just an hour’s worth of paperwork to do and then I can head home,” Mathias said.
“That’ll give me time to bathe, too,” Flynn replied, thrilled at the thought of hot, fresh water. “Don’t want to be all dirty before you get me all dirty.”
Mathias rolled his eyes, and a rush of fondness swept through Flynn. “Tides, I’ve missed you,” he breathed, tightening his arms around Mathias’s lithe form.
“I’ve missed you too.” Mathias let his mask drop for a brief shining moment, and Flynn felt so overwhelmed by how much he loved him that almost dropped down to one knee then and there.
“Shall I grab us something for dinner on my way home?” he asked instead. “That way we won’t have to leave the house for anything short of the sky falling in.”
“You’re tempting fate,” Mathias pointed out with a grimace. “Keep talking like that and we’ll have the Lord Commander beating down our door at midnight.”
Flynn laughed softly. “Fair point, mate.” He rested their foreheads together and tamped down the urge to lean in for a kiss, in no mood for the arguments that had put a damper on so many of their reunions.
“You’re here!” Flynn exclaimed, reaching out to embrace Mathias and feel the solid weight of him, warm and real.
“King Greymane’s not best pleased that I didn’t go straight through the portal this morning, but I had to see you,” Mathias admitted, wrapping his arms around Flynn’s waist. “I need to report within the hour.”
Mathias looked exhausted, and all Flynn wanted to do was spirit him away to some secluded island, with nothing but a large bed and a well-stocked larder.
Flynn groaned. “But we haven’t had a night together in…” The fact that he couldn’t even count just made it worse. “...I don’t even know. I’ve got three new tattoos since then, and I’d wager you’ve a scar or two.”
Mathias reached up to brush Flynn’s hair from his face, “No scars,” he assured him, “but you need to stop getting tattoos. I fear I won’t recognise you next time we’re together.”
“It’d better be soon,” Flynn grumbled, and Mathias made such a sad noise of assent that he couldn’t help himself, and leaned in to press a firm but chaste kiss to his lips.
Mathias pulled back immediately. “This is hardly the place,” he admonished.
“Sorry,” said Flynn, although he definitely wasn’t sorry at all.
“You’re not sorry at all,” Mathias asserted, pulling away and folding his arms. “You just do what you feel like with no thought of the consequences.”
“Oh, come on,” Flynn said. “Don’t tell me you don’t feel like it, too. We’ve not been alone together for months.”
“Exactly,” Mathias growled, voice low but strict, “we’re not alone. At least seven of my people are watching us right now.”
“Then bloody let them!” Flynn balled his fists by his side to resist the urge to just grab Mathias by the shoulders and shake him. “I hate to break it to you, but our relationship is hardly a state secret.”
“There is a big difference between knowing about something and seeing it. I would rather keep my private life private, especially from my employees,” Mathias said sternly, eyes flinty.
Flynn shook his head. He had tried his utmost to be patient and understanding with Mathias, but it was impossible to stay calm after months of just letters and longing and loneliness. “I’m hardly asking you to strip off right here! I just think it’s perfectly reasonable to expect my lover to greet me with a kiss, just like everyone else!”
Mathias’s eyes grew even harder, and he looked every bit the master assassin. “I am not everyone else. I am the head of SI:7 and I have to act with a certain level of professionalism here.” He gestured angrily at Stormwind’s white walls, cold and imposing above them.
“For tides’ sake, Mathias, you’re a human being!”
Flynn exhaled slowly, trying to simmer down. He knew Mathias was moments away from turning tail and heading for the portal room, and he couldn’t bear the idea of parting like this. “Besides, it’s good luck to give a sailor a welcome-home kiss,” he asserted, deliberately casual.
He could see Mathias also trying to calm himself, trying for playful as he replied, “I thought it was sending a sailor off with a kiss. You hardly need good luck on dry land.”
Flynn smiled. “The Tidemother will take you whenever she sees fit,” he said lightly. “Just think of what happened to poor Arva.”
Mathias’s mask broke then, and he was clearly trying not to laugh. “I’m sorry,” he answered eventually. “I’ll try. It’s just… it’s hard for me. You know how Pathonia raised me. An emotional rogue is a dead rogue.”
“I get it,” Flynn replied, the familiar resentment of Mathias’s grandmother rising up within him. “I don’t like it, but I get it.” He held out his arms and Mathias came willingly, resting his head on Flynn’s shoulder with a sigh.
“I’ll be back within the week,” Mathias murmured. “If you’ve no new contracts on the horizon, let’s just… be together, for a while. I’ve missed you.”
Flynn squeezed him, hard. “Count me in.”
If Flynn was honest, lack of welcome home kisses aside, there was something about how reserved Mathias could be that really did it for him. He felt like a character in a romantic drama, titillated by every brush of hands when they walked the cobbled streets, heart beating out of his chest when their ankles tangled together under a table at the inn. In some ways it was actually more thrilling than their alleyway trysts in Hook Point or lovemaking in the lush grass of the Highlands: the moment they were alone and the façade dropped, tension boiling over, made it all feel worthwhile.
As he gazed happily into Mathias’s eyes, Flynn was dimly aware of crew members all around him grudgingly disentangling themselves from their own families.
“The sooner we leave, the sooner we can get behind closed doors,” Mathias said, though there was regret in his voice at the thought of even a few more hours apart.
The promise of having his soon-to-be-fiancé all to himself just made Flynn want to hold on tighter, but he forced himself to step back. “You’re right, as usual,” he replied lightly. “I’ll see you at home.” He lowered his voice. “Love you.”
“You too,” Mathias whispered, reaching out to squeeze Flynn’s hand briefly before he turned and strode towards his SI:7 gryphon.
Flynn sighed dramatically as he watched Mathias leave, and Elia clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Very authoritative, Captain,” they said with a smile. “Not at all like a lovesick teenager.”
“Quiet, you, or you’ll have middle watch the whole way out on our next job.”
Elia just laughed at the empty threat and headed back up the gangplank, with Flynn following reluctantly. Only a little more captaining to go before he could make his latest letters a reality.
~~~~
By the time Mathias got back to their Old Town house, Flynn was blessedly clean and lounging deliberately casually on the bed wearing just a towel, hair loose around his shoulders, the perfectly calculated picture of everything it took to make his partner lose his mind.
He smirked at the way Mathias’s eyes ran over him in appreciation.
“And here I thought you were the one meant to be getting a warm welcome home today,” Mathias mused, peeling off his armour and rolling his shoulders in relief. Flynn watched in appreciation as he swiftly and methodically stripped down to his undergarments.
“Well, it seemed pointless to get myself all dressed up again. Waste of energy that would be better spent on other things, if you ask me.” He reached up and snagged Mathias round the waist as he walked past, pulling him forward to stand between his legs.
One of Mathias's hands went up into his hair, tugging lightly, and Flynn couldn't help the low moan as he tilted his head back obligingly and let himself be thoroughly kissed.
Mathias pulled back for air, face flushed with interest as he ran his eyes over Flynn’s body. He stopped and touched Flynn’s right bicep, gaze unerringly drawn to the image now inked around it, a vibrant green blade of grass, the ends tied in a knot resembling a heart. The artist had done some amazing things with shadows, and it looked as if it would lift right off his skin.
He was pretty impressed with how quickly Mathias had spotted it, a slim band tucked between a pair of dice and a saucy mermaid. He wouldn’t be surprised if the man had his own map of Flynn’s tattoos tucked away somewhere, maybe on one of the weird outline parchments they used to document injuries on corpses.
“This is new,” Mathias said, puzzled, “but it looks…”
“I know, amazing, isn't it? One of the bronze dragons did it. They do something time-magicky and it freezes the ink at the perfect age. I suppose I was feeling sentimental, but I wanted it to be evergreen.” He dropped his gaze for a moment, irrationally worried that Mathias would hate it. He had a fair few that Mathias disapproved of, but every new one since they’d been together had carried a fear that he’d suddenly lose all appeal. Even though he now put more thought into each design than the previous lot combined, he still felt flayed raw, because they were much more emotionally charged than the rope bracelet you’d find on every deckhand in Tiragarde Sound.
“It’s perfect,” Mathias murmured fondly, leaning down to kiss him again, with one hand firmly wrapped around the new tattoo, fingers brushing it the same way Flynn’s had worried that lovely blade of grass all those years ago. “It's also very subtle,” he added with a smirk. “That's not like you.”
His hand ran to the middle of Flynn's chest, where there was a vivid red heart being pierced by a familiar lion-emblazoned dagger.
Flynn chuckled softly. “To be fair, that one is gorgeous and I have no regrets. Still trying to work out where your other dagger's going.”
“I have some thoughts on that,” Mathias replied, pressing into him.
“Tides, just imagine,” Flynn cackled. “What would you do if I got your mighty weapon tattooed on my arse?”
“You’d better not be getting any ideas,” Mathias said, trying to sound stern through his laughter.
“Oh, plenty,” Flynn answered with a lofty tone, “but these are places I’d rather be poked by something other than a needle.”
They dissolved into more laughter, Flynn’s arms still wrapped around Mathias’s waist and face pressed into his chest. “Hello there, my true north,” he murmured, kissing the compass rose reverently.
“Hello yourself,” came the warm reply, accompanied by a gentle hand through his hair.
Flynn smiled up at Mathias and tugged him forward, pulling him down onto the bed. After some slightly ungraceful shuffling, he finally managed to get the man right where he wanted him, spread out beneath him in just his smallclothes.
“You’re so gorgeous,” he said, delighting in the blush that rose up in Mathias’s pale skin. “I would say that I could look at you forever, but tides know I’m not a patient man.”
With that he bent to firmly kiss the smile off Mathias's face, trying to pour all his desire and love and longing into it and feeling Mathias respond in kind, so eager and soft and warm in a way that drove Flynn wild.
Flynn let himself get swept away, lost in the practised dance of their tongues, the heat of Mathias’s skin, the way their hips rocked together, deprivation making their movements less coordinated than usual but no less pleasurable.
Mathias pushed him back reluctantly, still breathing hard. “If we don’t stop now, this will be over far too quickly.”
Flynn grinned. “I’ve got you all to myself until tomorrow morning, love. We can take our time later; right now I just need to feel you.”
He leaned down for another kiss but Mathias gripped his biceps and held him back. “Shame,” he said with a smirk, “I was hoping to make good on some of the promises we made in our letters.”
Flynn melted immediately, kissing him hard. “Excellent plan, let’s absolutely do that,” he agreed. “C’mere.”
He pulled on Mathias’s hips and rolled them both onto their sides, pushing off Mathias’s undergarments in the process and running his fingers down Mathias’s side from shoulder to knee, enjoying the goosebumps that rose in his wake. He couldn’t help pressing himself forward with a groan at the sight before him; his tanned thigh pressed obscenely between Mathias’s pale legs; the jut of Mathias’s arousal. Flynn reached down and took him in hand, relishing Mathias’s sigh and the flush spreading across his skin.
Even his most teasing strokes had Mathias thrusting unbidden into his fist, every backward thrust pushing him against Flynn in the most distracting way, and before long they were both covered in a sheen of sweat; plans to live out their letters all but forgotten once again as they got lost in the fevered press of skin to skin.
Flynn’s aim had been to coax Mathias into a frenzy, but watching the way he bit his lower lip, the flex of his glistening muscles, the slide of his cock in Flynn’s loose grip, drove Flynn just as wild, and it took all he had to stop himself from rutting against Mathias like an animal.
In a moment of monumental willpower, Flynn paused his movements to slow down his racing heartbeat, and was gratified to see Mathias had to do the same.
“Perhaps I spoke too hastily,” Mathias said, arching into Flynn’s touch.
“Oh yeah?” Flynn murmured against his neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses against the heated skin.
“Maybe an… abridged version of the letters,” he breathed. “Only the most salient - Light, Flynn, I can’t think when you’re doing that!”
Flynn smirked and stilled his hand. “If you’re still able to find words like ‘abridged’ and ‘salient’ then clearly I’m not trying hard enough.” He twisted his fingers with a low chuckle and Mathias gasped.
“You’re incorrigible, Fairwind,” he announced, pushing his body back against Flynn as hard as he could. It was Flynn’s turn to gasp, then, hand moving to splay across Mathias’s hip to maintain the exquisite pressure. Mathias tipped his head back to give Flynn a desperate, artless kiss, and in one fluid motion pulled away to palm the jar of oil from the nightstand before returning to Flynn’s waiting arms.
Flynn clumsily uncorked it, sending a mental apology to the bedsheets as it spilled down his hand. Mathias, usually so fussy, didn’t even seem to notice the mess as he obligingly draped his thigh back over Flynn’s leg, and Flynn kissed him deeply as he ran teasing fingers down to his entrance.
It was near impossible to keep his arousal from boiling over as he readied Mathias, the steady stream of sounds of pleasure enough to have him biting back curses of his own. He knew he was struggling to find the right balance between speed and finesse, but felt that at this stage he could hardly be blamed for his impatience: besides, Mathias was clearly in the same boat, and even Flynn’s less dexterous ministrations were rewarded with the most gorgeous litany of praise.
“I never thought - thought it possible to miss someone’s hands,” Mathias murmured, pressing back onto Flynn’s fingers as far as he could. “But, Light, Flynn, when you’re away… it drives me to distraction, imagining everything you do to me, longing for your touch. When I -” he broke off into a guttural moan as Flynn crooked his fingers, and then abruptly pulled away. “That’s enough; please.”
“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Flynn agreed hurriedly, haphazardly tipping more oil over himself. He wrapped one arm firmly around Mathias’s leg, and with the other guided himself forward until at last he was sheathed within Mathias’s tight heat.
He couldn’t help crying out at the sensation, and rested his head on the back of Mathias’s neck, panting. “This is going to be embarrassing,” he muttered.
Mathias craned back to kiss him. “I think we should both be commended for getting this far,” he pointed out, rocking his hips back with a satisfied groan. “Now fuck me, Flynn.”
Flynn didn’t even try to take it slow, was barely able to maintain a rhythm, but they were both too overwhelmed for it to matter as they moved together; not so much kissing as breathing each other’s air, their desperate gasps filling the room.
Mathias was working a palm over his straining cock, trying to keep time with Flynn’s staccato thrusts, and Flynn somehow had the wherewithal to reach down a slick hand to join him, and with a flick of his wrist he elicited almost a keen of pleasure; probably the hottest sound Flynn had ever heard.
Mathias just managed to whimper, “You’re so… fuck, Flynn,” before he was coming apart, body taut as a bowstring as he cried out his release, and Flynn couldn’t stave off his own completion any longer, utterly overcome as he buried himself deep in Mathias’s body with a shout.
They lay together catching their breath, and for once Mathias didn’t even try to get up and clean them off, which Flynn took as testament to his talent. He nudged Mathias to roll over so he could see and kiss him properly, knowing he was smiling like a sap but not caring at all, as a feeling of utter peace washed over him. He’d spent his life in berths and bunks from Boralus to Anyport, and it felt unbelievable that in all those years he hadn’t realised how much he needed somewhere to call home.
The silence was broken by a string of barks from outside the bedroom, followed by the distinctive scratching of Ruby’s claws against the floorboards, and they both dissolved into laughter.
“It’s good to be home,” Flynn announced happily, pressing one last kiss to Mathias’s lips before jumping up to get a washcloth, let Ruby in, and open a window, not necessarily in that order.
“How do you still have the energy?” Mathias grumbled, collapsing onto his back before realising just how disgusting the bedsheets were and sitting up again with a grimace.
“That was neither particularly drawn-out nor particularly athletic,” Flynn teased. “Should we be worried about your stamina, old man?”
Mathias made a rude gesture and threw a quill from the nightstand at Flynn’s chest with unerring accuracy. “Forgive me,” he started, following Flynn’s lead and getting up to pull on some clothes, “I must be tired from weeks of lying awake and pining for you.”
“Oh well in that case, no judgement at all,” Flynn replied with a wink, stealing one last greedy glance at Mathias’s body before it was covered up. “Now, are you hungry? I'm hungry.”
Ruby yapped an affirmative, hovering in the doorway as if trying to lead them to the kitchen and the waiting dinner supplies. Mathias followed her, and Flynn stood still for a moment and just watched them, overwhelmed with love and gratitude. He was horrified to feel tears welling up.
Mathias noticed, as he always did. “Are you okay?”
Flynn cleared his throat. “‘Course I am. Right as rain.” Mathias just cocked his head and waited, not letting him off that easily. “I suppose I’m feeling a bit sentimental,” he admitted eventually. “It’s just…” He gestured helplessly between them, struggling to put it into words that weren’t ‘marry me’, because he’d be damned if he were going to propose wearing just his undergarments, even if all he could think was ‘I need this to be my family forever’.
Mathias simply nodded, his gaze soft and understanding, and he held out a hand which Flynn gladly took. “I know,” he said softly. “Me too.”
Flynn just squeezed his hand, opening his mouth to speak without any real idea of what he was about to say. Luckily at that exact moment, both his stomach and Ruby let out impatient growls.
“All right, let’s get you two fed,” Mathias chuckled, heading down the stairs. Flynn took a moment to compose himself, then another few to dash back into the bedroom and check the ring was safely hidden, before heading into the kitchen after his family.
Chapter Three
Chapter Two
Flynn waited a reasonable - and definitely not paranoid, given Mathias’s skill at espionage didn’t diminish at sea - amount of time to open the triple-locked chest beneath the bunk of his cabin on the Arva and slip out a familiar scroll case. Rolled up carefully among the trove of his most valuable I.O.U.s and a few favourite letters from Mathias were a couple of sheets of parchment, in their own unique code.
He was quite proud of the cipher he’d used, which was based on the pages of a Steamy Romance Novel. While Mathias was occasionally amenable to him reading some of the saucier passages out loud, Flynn knew he would never willingly leaf through Stormy Seas - and Flynn certainly wasn’t going to part with his signed copy in the first place.
Feeling safer from prying eyes than he had in weeks, Flynn sat down at the desk, shoved his map of the Dragon Isles to one side, and looked down at the dog-eared pages in front of him.
A FOR-ONCE-NOT-INDECENT PROPOSAL
TO DO:
Find perfect location
Identify perfect time
Obtain perfect ring
Write perfect speech
PLACES:
Meaningful
Accessible
Must be somewhere I can get M without suspicion
Duskwood - not going back if I can help it
Silvermoon - unlikely to get invited again anytime soon.
(note to self: order sin’dorei silk bedsheets for less decent part of proposal)
Stormwind Lighthouse - can’t let people know we’re there and start digging (literally - hah!)
Country cabin - takes a miracle to drag M away for a trip
Home - could put ring on Ruby’s collar
Docks on arrival - bit public for M? Crew would be insufferable, too
Flynn leaned back in his chair until he hit the bulkhead. The problem with having an incomparable spy for a boyfriend was that a solid sixty percent of their most meaningful places were either highly dangerous, highly classified, or very far away. He could never have anticipated that the best months of his life would be those he’d spend completely landlocked, travelling the length of the Kingdoms with only one other person for company; but the intimacy he and Mathias had built during that mission was more valuable than any plunder.
Unfortunately, dragging the man all the way up to the Hinterlands so he could propose in the cave where they’d made passionate love while sheltering from a lightning storm was hardly a viable option.
He also liked to think he had more imagination than to simply pop the question at home, much as he adored the house in Stormwind with its eclectic mix of trinkets from Flynn’s travels and Mathias’s gradually-growing collection of personal items.
“You know, you’re allowed to have opinions about the décor, love,” Flynn had teased, setting aside the picture he was putting up. “This is our house, not just mine. Tides know I would fill it with all sorts of rubbish if I had the chance, but you’re supposed to live here too.”
Mathias stood in the middle of the room, clearly overwhelmed. “I shouldn’t care about one stupid painting.”
“And why not?” Flynn pushed, folding his arms and putting on his best unimpressed face.
“I…” He reached up to fuss with his moustache, a nervous gesture Flynn was becoming increasingly familiar with. “It’s not what I do, Flynn. I can’t afford to let my feelings be swayed by things like this.”
Flynn muttered, “Unbelievable,” and strode over, putting his hands on Mathias’s shoulders gently. “I don’t want you to eat dinner sitting under a painting you hate because you think someone will exploit the fact you have feelings about it.” Mathias winced, so Flynn knew he was on the right track. “Anyone who thinks a man in your position can be brought down by his loathing of pictures of lighthouses is an idiot. And I’m including you in that statement.”
Mathias gave a small laugh at that, but still looked at Flynn as if he’d hung the moons.
“It’s less the lighthouse, and more the colour palette,” he asserted with a shake of his head, swallowing hard and holding Flynn’s gaze. “You’re the first person who’s made me feel as if I can want things for myself,” he added eventually, voice rough with emotion. It made Flynn want to take arms against everyone who had a hand in moulding him into nothing more than the dagger in the dark.
“You’re a person first and a job title second, love. I don’t want to live with Master Shaw, who fades into the shadows behind the doorway. I want to live with Mathias, who prefers the purple bedspread, would like to set fire to my artwork, and desperately wants a cabinet for his whittled birds, much as he tells himself they’re mere trifles.”
“Thank you,” Mathias whispered, pulling Flynn into a fierce kiss. They had christened the dining table that evening, and the lighthouse painting had been relegated to the galley of the Bold Arva.
That no one else in Mathias’s life had let him believe it was okay to be human made Flynn’s blood boil, and even now it felt like a struggle to get him to admit what he wanted: Ruby being a case in point. They had built their home into a sanctuary, and it would be a perfectly adequate place for a marriage proposal - but Mathias deserved more than just adequate, and Flynn was determined to give it to him.
Flynn sighed, turning his attention to the next section of his list.
TIMING:
Perhaps after one of us has been away? Take advantage of highest level of emotional neediness!
Must get M away from work for at least a couple of hours
At sea - no distractions? Need to get M a valid reason to sail with us - never thought I’d be keen for an intercontinental crisis
The problem was, Flynn's desire to propose had gone from a vague longing that arose in his chest each time they parted to a constant phrase on the tip of his tongue. It was getting harder and harder not just to blurt out 'Marry me' at an inopportune moment. He'd reached the point of physically having to clamp his mouth shut.
He had to come up with a plan soon, or he’d end up blurting out the world’s clumsiest proposal while Mathias was lecturing the new recruits, or sharpening his daggers, or giving a particularly spectacular blow job.
Flynn knew that Mathias had, from the beginning, felt freer at sea: before they were really together, he spoke wistfully of their nights sailing for Zuldazar, and how he had managed to find some measure of peace tucked away in the captain’s cabin of the Arva with Flynn, in between encrypted memos and hostile weather. It was even better now, on the rare occasions where Mathias had to travel by ship: with his guard down and Flynn no longer hiding in the bottom of a bottle, it felt as if they could both just be for a while.
It couldn’t, of course, ever happen without a mission: as often as Mathias said he wished he could stow away and avoid Turalyon’s more erratic demands, he was never going to be spared just to join Flynn for a sunny jaunt to Pandaria. There would always be reports swimming up in mechanical sharks, and danger waiting on the far shore: the only blessing was that wherever Master Shaw had to go by sea, Flynn was now the only captain permitted to take him.
Apparently their relationship was a good cover story for Mathias’s presence on board the Arva at any given moment. Which was, frankly, ridiculous, because the odds of him leaving Stormwind for love rather than duty were too long even for a gambler like Flynn, but apparently Mathias’s enemies didn’t know him at all.
Frustratingly, even on his worst behaviour, Flynn could hardly manufacture an incident serious enough to get Mathias shipped off with him so he could pop the question.
“I need a drink,” he announced to himself, leaving his chair briefly to grab a bottle of emergency whiskey and take a hearty swig. He froze.
He knew exactly where this whiskey was from. It was a dwarven small batch from Loch Modan, which he’d first sampled in Stormwind, on an evening which would forever be ingrained in his memory. “Don’t be late,” Shaw had said, so Flynn had cleaned up and rushed out even though he knew Shaw would be in debriefings for hours. He hadn’t wanted to get sloshed while he waited, so he’d ordered a top-shelf spirit to nurse while he turned over the blade of grass in his hands and let himself hope.
The Gilded Rose, he wrote. Evening. Request private table. Tell M not to be late. Me - Thelsamar Single Malt; M - find name of that wine asap.
With a sigh of relief and a satisfied grin, Flynn turned to the next page. Now for the hardest part.
RING
Stormwind jewellers
Boralus jewellers
Literally any continent this side of the Dark Portal????
The place where Kelson got his gold teeth
Oribos - Taelia? Brokers currency query…
Bloke in cave in Drustvar who makes silver charms against witches
Ask goblins for a hook-up? - too expensive
He sighed and looked at the map of Azeroth pinned up beside the bookshelf. Definitely not Kalimdor or the Eastern Kingdoms. He was too well known in Kul Tiras to do anything discreetly. The Dragon Isles were still crawling with adventurers, and Northrend always had tons of eyes and ears, especially now it was without a Lich King. Mathias had told him how underprepared they were for Pandaria when Anduin had run off there decades ago, and Flynn knew they wouldn’t make that mistake again. Honestly, with the King still missing, SI:7 was, quite literally, everywhere.
It seemed utterly hopeless. Maybe he should ask the question first, and then they could go out and buy rings later. It wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to choose them together, a matching set for when they were actually married.
But Flynn was rather attached to his messy sketch of the ring; the design was perfect and he desperately wanted to see it on Mathias's finger.
He had won with longer odds than this; he just had to figure out how to stack the deck. At least he had a good few weeks to do it, since there were no SI:7 eyes and ears on the ship. If only Axleq were a blacksmith instead of a carpenter - not that there was any place for a forge on a wooden vessel.
“By the Tidemother,” he exclaimed, dropping his quill with a spattering of ink and making a frantic dash down to the mess.
“Latimer!” he exclaimed. “Latimer, I need your help!”
The tidesage immediately stood to attention in alarm, as did the rest of the crew.
“Oh, no, not help help,” Flynn clarified, holding his hands up to placate everyone. “More like, a huge personal favour.”
“Oh yeah? What's in it for me?” Latimer folded his arms in challenge, and Flynn despaired of the fact that even honest Kul Tiran sailors had finely honed plundering instincts.
It used to be simple to just offer up a larger share of the loot, but now that he was a supposedly reputable seaman reporting to the crown, that wasn't really an option. “How about, for the next three champions I take on private island tours, I’ll give you fifty percent of the dubloons.”
Latimer cocked his head to one side in thought, then nodded. “All right, I’ll bite. What do you need?”
“I need something crafted, but it can’t be done in port - prying eyes and all that,” Flynn began.
“Hey, I’m ya carpenter, and Trylla sews the sails,” Axleq piped up, gesturing between himself and his wife with his mug. “If we ain’t craftin’ shit, what’re we gettin’ paid for?”
“Relax, mate,” Flynn replied, “this is outside your wheelhouse. Unless you can use waterforging to make storm silver trinkets, in which case you can have an apology and a healthy bonus.”
“Yeah, metalworkin’ ain’t our thing, cap’n,” Trylla conceded cheerily, “but please keep us in mind for all future commissions!”
“Goblins,” muttered Latimer, and Flynn looked at him in disbelief.
“As if you didn’t just refuse to help me out until I’d agreed to pay you,” he pointed out with a laugh.
Latimer guffawed. “Aye, you’ve got me there! Now what is it you’re wanting? If I can’t do it, there’ll be someone down at the Monastery who can - but not if this is like the time you asked Brother Pike to bless a set of dice.”
Flynn tried to look chagrined, but he felt no shame about having asked the esteemed tidesage - granted, perhaps a formal soiree at Proudmoore Keep wasn’t the time and place, but he would have kicked himself for not seizing the opportunity. “Is there anyone who doesn’t know about that? I swear, you tidesages are bigger gossips than the Academy cadets. Let it be known that I am good enough at dice that I don’t need the Tidemother’s blessing.”
“You cheat,” shouted Novi from the galley.
“Got me this ship, which got you this job,” Flynn called back.
Novi just snorted in response, but still came through with a mug of very boozy coffee for him.
“What're you looking to have made, then?” asked Latimer, all business, and Flynn suddenly felt very self-conscious.
“This goes no further than the ship, you hear me?” he said, managing to sound every inch the stern captain. “I mean it, there are eyes and ears everywhere.”
Novi’s eyes went wide. “Do you need a murder weapon, captain?”
“Oh, I want a piece of that action!” his gunner Rufus piped up, Scythe the cat suddenly alert beside him.
Flynn rolled his eyes. “Number one, this is not a pirate ship, and wanton slaughter is off the table.” He began to count on his fingers. “Number two, I have perfectly serviceable weapons on me at all times, thank you very much. Number three, if I did want someone quietly assassinated, I would entrust that task to my capable and fearless fia - partner - who is far less likely to blab about it while he’s in his cups.”
Rufus’s face fell, and he took a desultory swig of his ale.
“Tell you what, next time some idiot tries to raid us, you can be first in line to incapacitate them, Rufus, how does that sound?”
Rufus’s face brightened again immediately. Flynn really worried about his crew sometimes.
“Interesting, Cap’n,” said Trylla with a smirk, “I coulda sworn you almost called Shaw your fiancé.”
Flynn blushed. “Yes, well, he’s not quite yet. I was actually hoping that Latimer would be able to help me get a ring crafted so I can pop the question.”
“That’ll be delicate work,” Latimer observed, “but the Tidemother will guide my hand. You already got the storm silver?”
Flynn nodded, “Had it blessed and everything. Also got some truesilver from the mainland ready. Give me one second…” He dashed back to his cabin, buoyed immeasurably by the idea that he might actually be able to make this happen, and get to see a vanishingly rare look of surprise on Mathias’s face. He dug through his footlocker and came out with a few ingots, wrapped in the parchment where he had painstakingly drawn out the design.
He hurried back down to the mess and spread everything out on the table, and Latimer cracked his knuckles. “Right, I’ve got an hour till my watch starts. Talk me through it.”
~~~~
By the time the Arva docked in Iskaara, Latimer had already begun to “put tentacles out” for advice from the other tidesages through some kind of watery network that Flynn couldn’t envisage, and Flynn was feeling more optimistic than he had in a long time.
He whistled happily as the crew started to disembark, and even the disorientation of talking through cargo manifests with the glowing mirror image of a dragon aspect couldn’t dampen his spirits.
“Mail call, Cap!” shouted Aimee, the cabin girl, handing over a few scrolls. Flynn’s eyes were immediately drawn to the familiar seal on one of them, but before he could make his excuses she tugged on his hand.
“Are you comin’ for soup?” she asked eagerly. “Everyone says it’s a-maz-ing!”
“Actually, I still have some paperwork to attend to on the ship,” Flynn began.
“You want to read the letter from your boy-friend,” she interrupted, and Flynn once again despaired at how little authority he seemed to have over his crew. “But you can do that later. I can’t bring you soup aboard or I’ll spill it everywhere.” She looked up at him, eyes wide and guileless.
Kalecgos’s mirror image chuckled beside him. “It is especially good soup,” he added, “and even better company, I’m sure.”
Flynn heaved a theatrical sigh. “How can I possibly resist?”
He shoved his various mail scrolls in his pockets, making sure Mathias’s was safely tucked away inside his coat, and let Aimee lead the way.
A few hours later, full of deliciously fishy soup that made him rather homesick for Kul Tiran cooking, the anticipation became too much: it felt as if Mathias’s letter was burning a hole in Flynn’s pocket, and he kept reaching in to make sure it was still there.
He headed back to the ship with a few of the crew, and forced himself to keep to their meandering pace rather than giving into the impulse to dash ahead.
At last, he was safely behind his cabin door, and he unfurled the scroll with trembling fingers, heart in his throat and quill at hand to decipher the careful code.
My dearest Flynn,
By the time you receive this, a week will have passed. I hope your passage to Iskaara was refreshingly uneventful, and that you and the crew are safe and enjoying the Tuskarr’s hospitality.
I have a feeling you will love their cooking. You and I will forever disagree on whether aromatic fish oil belongs in every dish: I do not miss being stationed in Boralus, although the view from my post of the Middenwake and its beautiful captain was beyond compare. I only wish I had recognised the potential in our relationship sooner.
I am feeling particularly wistful this morning. I miss you terribly, though it has only been a few days since your departure. I continue to be amazed at how easily our lives fit together, and how dramatically different everything feels while you are away. At work, I can sense your presence at my shoulder. I imagine your cutting observations about my agents, your irrepressible humour as I grow increasingly stressed throughout the day. I brace myself for a touch to my arm reminding me to rest; I hear your familiar footsteps outside my office as you come to break the monotony with an anecdote, a coffee, a kiss.
I have never told you this, but when you are away I don’t use your side of the bed. I know you prefer to sprawl like a starfish in my absence, but I’ve grown so used to having you beside me that I find it impossible to take a space that is so irrevocably yours.
It is not the case that I lost hope of finding someone with whom to share my life: rather, I hadn’t even dreamed of the possibility until you came along and broke through my walls. You know this, but I fear I do not tell you enough. You saw the torn and frayed map of my life, and with patience, determination, and love, helped me chart a different course. You wrote over all my carefully laid plans, and in bold strokes created something new and altogether beautiful.
Whether we are at home in Stormwind, or thrown to the opposite ends of Azeroth, I know that we walk together. I take fewer risks in the field, and trust that you are also less reckless - though nothing is without peril in our lines of work, I hold true to the knowledge that we both do everything in our power to return to one another. That I can have so much faith in another person still shakes me to my core.
I confess, the one thing I do use of yours is your pillow. I breathe your familiar scent, and my mind travels back to the Zandalari ship in Stormwind docks, to the Bold Arva: the first times I held you, wittingly and unwittingly. I feel the same thrill in your arms even now.
If I lie still and close my eyes, I can feel your breath on the back of my neck, the ghost of your arm around my waist. I sink into your phantom embrace, breathing you in and finding peace for a moment.
Perhaps in my next letter I will tell you more about what it does to me to bury my face in your pillow and surround myself with you, and what else I imagine for us, pressed together in our bed. Consider it a reward for reaching Dragonblight and the turning point of your voyage, to put the wind in your sails for a swift return.
Until then, I remain
Yours always,
Mathias
~~~~
My darling, dashing Mathias,
First off, it was incredibly cruel of you to end your letter on that cliffhanger! I expect nothing less than a full Steamy Romance Novel in my mailbox when I get to Northrend.
I love the way you write - even your dry mission reports manage to make me feel something, you know? The document you made on the Eastern Kingdoms for the King reads like the best history book - though the additions by your delightful travelling companion are certainly part of the appeal.
And your letters! That last one really took me on a journey, love. Laughter and sorrow, longing and awe and adoration, and the tiniest promise of horniness right at the end… it’s almost a shame that no one else gets to see that side of you. Almost. These letters are kept so secure that only one rogue alive could possibly get to them. (That’s you. Also me, but I created the cache, so sadly have no need of my incredible lockpicking skills!)
Anyway, your letter has made me miss you even more than I already did: I just want to reach across the ocean and hold you tight. But also suck your cock. I’ve been on a dramatic rollercoaster of emotions since I glimpsed your seal in my stack of post!
At least sailing keeps me busy, though I have to admit I’ve had more booze than usual this trip - you and I were so lucky to have that whole month together before this, but it makes it even harder to be apart. Axleq and Trylla have noticed that I’m a bit more moody than usual. I quote: “Redheads on board are s’posed to be bad luck, but Cap's a heck of a lot nicer when he’s got his fella around!”
I imagine it’s worse at home, though you do have Ruby now. I’m hoping that the need to take care of her has helped pull you away from your desk, though if I were a betting man (which I am!) I would say that you’ve created a little nest for her in your secret office behind the bookcase. I’m right, aren’t I? I bet Shiv thinks it’s hilarious that you’ve got a pet squirrelled (foxed?) away in there. Just don’t let her sneak out in stealth… though she could definitely teach your recruits a thing or two about remaining undetected (and how to steal their dad’s lunch out from under his nose - I’m still mad about that sandwich!).
I hope you’re reading this at home, lying resolutely on your side of the bed - which is really odd, by the way! If someone asked me the best thing about you being out in the field, it would absolutely be getting a whole bed to myself. Second place would be the letters, and then the passionate reunion, and then knowing that afterwards you’ll be safely in one place for a bit.
Speaking of passionate reunions, are you interested in what I would be doing to you if I were there? Other than making sure you’re fed and watered, of course?
How vividly do you imagine me, love? You say you can feel my arm around your waist, my breath on your neck… can you sense the kisses I press against your shoulders, the way I slide my leg between yours, intertwining us as closely as possible? I can envisage the exact moment when you yield to me, tipping your head back so I can kiss you properly before working my way down your jaw.
I would be biting you, just shy of leaving a mark, and you would wrap your leg around mine, pulling me in closer, desperate for the press of skin-on-skin. I would run a hand across your chest, toying with your nipples and teasing you with the lightest pressure of my fingertips. You would kiss me again and try to catch your breath so you can let me know that it’s not enough, that you want me to move lower, to give you attention where you most need it. And because you have spread yourself out so beautifully, and I can feel every inch of your heated body against mine, I would give in, and reach down to wrap my hand around -
And I believe that’s a story for the next port. Turnabout’s fair play, love!
Until then, I will be thinking of you and the space between us. May the Tidemother watch over us both, and bless us with a swift reunion.
All my heart,
Flynn
P.S. I love you xxx
P.P.S. THANK YOU for the treats you slipped into my pack, you sneaky thing - I hope the chocolates weren’t code for anything this time, because they disappeared in short order!
P.P.P.S. I mean it about not letting Ruby slip out: I’m still settling the bill with that dwarf whose garden she ransacked.
~~~~
It boggled Flynn’s mind that even after so long, seeing his partner waiting on the docks made his heart skip a beat every time. It would be even better when he could think of him as his husband, and the idea made him smile uncontrollably. He clenched his fist to stop himself from reaching into the pocket where the newly-forged ring was hidden.
“You’re looking unusually cheerful,” Mathias called over as they threw down the mooring ropes.
“Can’t a man be pleased to be home?” he asked, smile growing even wider as Mathias raised an eyebrow.
“Another man could be, but you can’t grin like that without arousing my suspicions.”
“That’s not what I want to arouse, mate, but it’s a start,” Flynn threw back with a wink, to laughter and wolf-whistles from the crew around him.
Mathias shook his head in despair, but when Flynn could finally vault down and wrap him in his arms, he returned the embrace fiercely, grasping Flynn’s coat as if he never meant to let go.
Sadly, he did let go, before Flynn could properly breathe in his familiar scent of steel and leather and parchment, but stayed close, arms loosely wrapped around Flynn’s waist. “Do you have to head over and report to Jaina?” he asked.
“Thankfully the Blue Dragonflight are all over this one, so most of the debriefing and cargo tracking was done back in Iskaara. Just the routine check-in with the Harbourmaster and we’re done here. Don’t suppose you’re able to finish early today…?” Flynn trailed a teasing hand down Mathias’s spine, relishing the slight shudder that ran unbidden through his body. He understood Mathias’s natural caution, but couldn’t resist pushing his luck after so long apart.
Mathias gave him a stern look, but didn’t move away, which Flynn counted as a victory. “I scheduled all my meetings for this morning, so just an hour’s worth of paperwork to do and then I can head home,” Mathias said.
“That’ll give me time to bathe, too,” Flynn replied, thrilled at the thought of hot, fresh water. “Don’t want to be all dirty before you get me all dirty.”
Mathias rolled his eyes, and a rush of fondness swept through Flynn. “Tides, I’ve missed you,” he breathed, tightening his arms around Mathias’s lithe form.
“I’ve missed you too.” Mathias let his mask drop for a brief shining moment, and Flynn felt so overwhelmed by how much he loved him that almost dropped down to one knee then and there.
“Shall I grab us something for dinner on my way home?” he asked instead. “That way we won’t have to leave the house for anything short of the sky falling in.”
“You’re tempting fate,” Mathias pointed out with a grimace. “Keep talking like that and we’ll have the Lord Commander beating down our door at midnight.”
Flynn laughed softly. “Fair point, mate.” He rested their foreheads together and tamped down the urge to lean in for a kiss, in no mood for the arguments that had put a damper on so many of their reunions.
“You’re here!” Flynn exclaimed, reaching out to embrace Mathias and feel the solid weight of him, warm and real.
“King Greymane’s not best pleased that I didn’t go straight through the portal this morning, but I had to see you,” Mathias admitted, wrapping his arms around Flynn’s waist. “I need to report within the hour.”
Mathias looked exhausted, and all Flynn wanted to do was spirit him away to some secluded island, with nothing but a large bed and a well-stocked larder.
Flynn groaned. “But we haven’t had a night together in…” The fact that he couldn’t even count just made it worse. “...I don’t even know. I’ve got three new tattoos since then, and I’d wager you’ve a scar or two.”
Mathias reached up to brush Flynn’s hair from his face, “No scars,” he assured him, “but you need to stop getting tattoos. I fear I won’t recognise you next time we’re together.”
“It’d better be soon,” Flynn grumbled, and Mathias made such a sad noise of assent that he couldn’t help himself, and leaned in to press a firm but chaste kiss to his lips.
Mathias pulled back immediately. “This is hardly the place,” he admonished.
“Sorry,” said Flynn, although he definitely wasn’t sorry at all.
“You’re not sorry at all,” Mathias asserted, pulling away and folding his arms. “You just do what you feel like with no thought of the consequences.”
“Oh, come on,” Flynn said. “Don’t tell me you don’t feel like it, too. We’ve not been alone together for months.”
“Exactly,” Mathias growled, voice low but strict, “we’re not alone. At least seven of my people are watching us right now.”
“Then bloody let them!” Flynn balled his fists by his side to resist the urge to just grab Mathias by the shoulders and shake him. “I hate to break it to you, but our relationship is hardly a state secret.”
“There is a big difference between knowing about something and seeing it. I would rather keep my private life private, especially from my employees,” Mathias said sternly, eyes flinty.
Flynn shook his head. He had tried his utmost to be patient and understanding with Mathias, but it was impossible to stay calm after months of just letters and longing and loneliness. “I’m hardly asking you to strip off right here! I just think it’s perfectly reasonable to expect my lover to greet me with a kiss, just like everyone else!”
Mathias’s eyes grew even harder, and he looked every bit the master assassin. “I am not everyone else. I am the head of SI:7 and I have to act with a certain level of professionalism here.” He gestured angrily at Stormwind’s white walls, cold and imposing above them.
“For tides’ sake, Mathias, you’re a human being!”
Flynn exhaled slowly, trying to simmer down. He knew Mathias was moments away from turning tail and heading for the portal room, and he couldn’t bear the idea of parting like this. “Besides, it’s good luck to give a sailor a welcome-home kiss,” he asserted, deliberately casual.
He could see Mathias also trying to calm himself, trying for playful as he replied, “I thought it was sending a sailor off with a kiss. You hardly need good luck on dry land.”
Flynn smiled. “The Tidemother will take you whenever she sees fit,” he said lightly. “Just think of what happened to poor Arva.”
Mathias’s mask broke then, and he was clearly trying not to laugh. “I’m sorry,” he answered eventually. “I’ll try. It’s just… it’s hard for me. You know how Pathonia raised me. An emotional rogue is a dead rogue.”
“I get it,” Flynn replied, the familiar resentment of Mathias’s grandmother rising up within him. “I don’t like it, but I get it.” He held out his arms and Mathias came willingly, resting his head on Flynn’s shoulder with a sigh.
“I’ll be back within the week,” Mathias murmured. “If you’ve no new contracts on the horizon, let’s just… be together, for a while. I’ve missed you.”
Flynn squeezed him, hard. “Count me in.”
If Flynn was honest, lack of welcome home kisses aside, there was something about how reserved Mathias could be that really did it for him. He felt like a character in a romantic drama, titillated by every brush of hands when they walked the cobbled streets, heart beating out of his chest when their ankles tangled together under a table at the inn. In some ways it was actually more thrilling than their alleyway trysts in Hook Point or lovemaking in the lush grass of the Highlands: the moment they were alone and the façade dropped, tension boiling over, made it all feel worthwhile.
As he gazed happily into Mathias’s eyes, Flynn was dimly aware of crew members all around him grudgingly disentangling themselves from their own families.
“The sooner we leave, the sooner we can get behind closed doors,” Mathias said, though there was regret in his voice at the thought of even a few more hours apart.
The promise of having his soon-to-be-fiancé all to himself just made Flynn want to hold on tighter, but he forced himself to step back. “You’re right, as usual,” he replied lightly. “I’ll see you at home.” He lowered his voice. “Love you.”
“You too,” Mathias whispered, reaching out to squeeze Flynn’s hand briefly before he turned and strode towards his SI:7 gryphon.
Flynn sighed dramatically as he watched Mathias leave, and Elia clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Very authoritative, Captain,” they said with a smile. “Not at all like a lovesick teenager.”
“Quiet, you, or you’ll have middle watch the whole way out on our next job.”
Elia just laughed at the empty threat and headed back up the gangplank, with Flynn following reluctantly. Only a little more captaining to go before he could make his latest letters a reality.
~~~~
By the time Mathias got back to their Old Town house, Flynn was blessedly clean and lounging deliberately casually on the bed wearing just a towel, hair loose around his shoulders, the perfectly calculated picture of everything it took to make his partner lose his mind.
He smirked at the way Mathias’s eyes ran over him in appreciation.
“And here I thought you were the one meant to be getting a warm welcome home today,” Mathias mused, peeling off his armour and rolling his shoulders in relief. Flynn watched in appreciation as he swiftly and methodically stripped down to his undergarments.
“Well, it seemed pointless to get myself all dressed up again. Waste of energy that would be better spent on other things, if you ask me.” He reached up and snagged Mathias round the waist as he walked past, pulling him forward to stand between his legs.
One of Mathias's hands went up into his hair, tugging lightly, and Flynn couldn't help the low moan as he tilted his head back obligingly and let himself be thoroughly kissed.
Mathias pulled back for air, face flushed with interest as he ran his eyes over Flynn’s body. He stopped and touched Flynn’s right bicep, gaze unerringly drawn to the image now inked around it, a vibrant green blade of grass, the ends tied in a knot resembling a heart. The artist had done some amazing things with shadows, and it looked as if it would lift right off his skin.
He was pretty impressed with how quickly Mathias had spotted it, a slim band tucked between a pair of dice and a saucy mermaid. He wouldn’t be surprised if the man had his own map of Flynn’s tattoos tucked away somewhere, maybe on one of the weird outline parchments they used to document injuries on corpses.
“This is new,” Mathias said, puzzled, “but it looks…”
“I know, amazing, isn't it? One of the bronze dragons did it. They do something time-magicky and it freezes the ink at the perfect age. I suppose I was feeling sentimental, but I wanted it to be evergreen.” He dropped his gaze for a moment, irrationally worried that Mathias would hate it. He had a fair few that Mathias disapproved of, but every new one since they’d been together had carried a fear that he’d suddenly lose all appeal. Even though he now put more thought into each design than the previous lot combined, he still felt flayed raw, because they were much more emotionally charged than the rope bracelet you’d find on every deckhand in Tiragarde Sound.
“It’s perfect,” Mathias murmured fondly, leaning down to kiss him again, with one hand firmly wrapped around the new tattoo, fingers brushing it the same way Flynn’s had worried that lovely blade of grass all those years ago. “It's also very subtle,” he added with a smirk. “That's not like you.”
His hand ran to the middle of Flynn's chest, where there was a vivid red heart being pierced by a familiar lion-emblazoned dagger.
Flynn chuckled softly. “To be fair, that one is gorgeous and I have no regrets. Still trying to work out where your other dagger's going.”
“I have some thoughts on that,” Mathias replied, pressing into him.
“Tides, just imagine,” Flynn cackled. “What would you do if I got your mighty weapon tattooed on my arse?”
“You’d better not be getting any ideas,” Mathias said, trying to sound stern through his laughter.
“Oh, plenty,” Flynn answered with a lofty tone, “but these are places I’d rather be poked by something other than a needle.”
They dissolved into more laughter, Flynn’s arms still wrapped around Mathias’s waist and face pressed into his chest. “Hello there, my true north,” he murmured, kissing the compass rose reverently.
“Hello yourself,” came the warm reply, accompanied by a gentle hand through his hair.
Flynn smiled up at Mathias and tugged him forward, pulling him down onto the bed. After some slightly ungraceful shuffling, he finally managed to get the man right where he wanted him, spread out beneath him in just his smallclothes.
“You’re so gorgeous,” he said, delighting in the blush that rose up in Mathias’s pale skin. “I would say that I could look at you forever, but tides know I’m not a patient man.”
With that he bent to firmly kiss the smile off Mathias's face, trying to pour all his desire and love and longing into it and feeling Mathias respond in kind, so eager and soft and warm in a way that drove Flynn wild.
Flynn let himself get swept away, lost in the practised dance of their tongues, the heat of Mathias’s skin, the way their hips rocked together, deprivation making their movements less coordinated than usual but no less pleasurable.
Mathias pushed him back reluctantly, still breathing hard. “If we don’t stop now, this will be over far too quickly.”
Flynn grinned. “I’ve got you all to myself until tomorrow morning, love. We can take our time later; right now I just need to feel you.”
He leaned down for another kiss but Mathias gripped his biceps and held him back. “Shame,” he said with a smirk, “I was hoping to make good on some of the promises we made in our letters.”
Flynn melted immediately, kissing him hard. “Excellent plan, let’s absolutely do that,” he agreed. “C’mere.”
He pulled on Mathias’s hips and rolled them both onto their sides, pushing off Mathias’s undergarments in the process and running his fingers down Mathias’s side from shoulder to knee, enjoying the goosebumps that rose in his wake. He couldn’t help pressing himself forward with a groan at the sight before him; his tanned thigh pressed obscenely between Mathias’s pale legs; the jut of Mathias’s arousal. Flynn reached down and took him in hand, relishing Mathias’s sigh and the flush spreading across his skin.
Even his most teasing strokes had Mathias thrusting unbidden into his fist, every backward thrust pushing him against Flynn in the most distracting way, and before long they were both covered in a sheen of sweat; plans to live out their letters all but forgotten once again as they got lost in the fevered press of skin to skin.
Flynn’s aim had been to coax Mathias into a frenzy, but watching the way he bit his lower lip, the flex of his glistening muscles, the slide of his cock in Flynn’s loose grip, drove Flynn just as wild, and it took all he had to stop himself from rutting against Mathias like an animal.
In a moment of monumental willpower, Flynn paused his movements to slow down his racing heartbeat, and was gratified to see Mathias had to do the same.
“Perhaps I spoke too hastily,” Mathias said, arching into Flynn’s touch.
“Oh yeah?” Flynn murmured against his neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses against the heated skin.
“Maybe an… abridged version of the letters,” he breathed. “Only the most salient - Light, Flynn, I can’t think when you’re doing that!”
Flynn smirked and stilled his hand. “If you’re still able to find words like ‘abridged’ and ‘salient’ then clearly I’m not trying hard enough.” He twisted his fingers with a low chuckle and Mathias gasped.
“You’re incorrigible, Fairwind,” he announced, pushing his body back against Flynn as hard as he could. It was Flynn’s turn to gasp, then, hand moving to splay across Mathias’s hip to maintain the exquisite pressure. Mathias tipped his head back to give Flynn a desperate, artless kiss, and in one fluid motion pulled away to palm the jar of oil from the nightstand before returning to Flynn’s waiting arms.
Flynn clumsily uncorked it, sending a mental apology to the bedsheets as it spilled down his hand. Mathias, usually so fussy, didn’t even seem to notice the mess as he obligingly draped his thigh back over Flynn’s leg, and Flynn kissed him deeply as he ran teasing fingers down to his entrance.
It was near impossible to keep his arousal from boiling over as he readied Mathias, the steady stream of sounds of pleasure enough to have him biting back curses of his own. He knew he was struggling to find the right balance between speed and finesse, but felt that at this stage he could hardly be blamed for his impatience: besides, Mathias was clearly in the same boat, and even Flynn’s less dexterous ministrations were rewarded with the most gorgeous litany of praise.
“I never thought - thought it possible to miss someone’s hands,” Mathias murmured, pressing back onto Flynn’s fingers as far as he could. “But, Light, Flynn, when you’re away… it drives me to distraction, imagining everything you do to me, longing for your touch. When I -” he broke off into a guttural moan as Flynn crooked his fingers, and then abruptly pulled away. “That’s enough; please.”
“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Flynn agreed hurriedly, haphazardly tipping more oil over himself. He wrapped one arm firmly around Mathias’s leg, and with the other guided himself forward until at last he was sheathed within Mathias’s tight heat.
He couldn’t help crying out at the sensation, and rested his head on the back of Mathias’s neck, panting. “This is going to be embarrassing,” he muttered.
Mathias craned back to kiss him. “I think we should both be commended for getting this far,” he pointed out, rocking his hips back with a satisfied groan. “Now fuck me, Flynn.”
Flynn didn’t even try to take it slow, was barely able to maintain a rhythm, but they were both too overwhelmed for it to matter as they moved together; not so much kissing as breathing each other’s air, their desperate gasps filling the room.
Mathias was working a palm over his straining cock, trying to keep time with Flynn’s staccato thrusts, and Flynn somehow had the wherewithal to reach down a slick hand to join him, and with a flick of his wrist he elicited almost a keen of pleasure; probably the hottest sound Flynn had ever heard.
Mathias just managed to whimper, “You’re so… fuck, Flynn,” before he was coming apart, body taut as a bowstring as he cried out his release, and Flynn couldn’t stave off his own completion any longer, utterly overcome as he buried himself deep in Mathias’s body with a shout.
They lay together catching their breath, and for once Mathias didn’t even try to get up and clean them off, which Flynn took as testament to his talent. He nudged Mathias to roll over so he could see and kiss him properly, knowing he was smiling like a sap but not caring at all, as a feeling of utter peace washed over him. He’d spent his life in berths and bunks from Boralus to Anyport, and it felt unbelievable that in all those years he hadn’t realised how much he needed somewhere to call home.
The silence was broken by a string of barks from outside the bedroom, followed by the distinctive scratching of Ruby’s claws against the floorboards, and they both dissolved into laughter.
“It’s good to be home,” Flynn announced happily, pressing one last kiss to Mathias’s lips before jumping up to get a washcloth, let Ruby in, and open a window, not necessarily in that order.
“How do you still have the energy?” Mathias grumbled, collapsing onto his back before realising just how disgusting the bedsheets were and sitting up again with a grimace.
“That was neither particularly drawn-out nor particularly athletic,” Flynn teased. “Should we be worried about your stamina, old man?”
Mathias made a rude gesture and threw a quill from the nightstand at Flynn’s chest with unerring accuracy. “Forgive me,” he started, following Flynn’s lead and getting up to pull on some clothes, “I must be tired from weeks of lying awake and pining for you.”
“Oh well in that case, no judgement at all,” Flynn replied with a wink, stealing one last greedy glance at Mathias’s body before it was covered up. “Now, are you hungry? I'm hungry.”
Ruby yapped an affirmative, hovering in the doorway as if trying to lead them to the kitchen and the waiting dinner supplies. Mathias followed her, and Flynn stood still for a moment and just watched them, overwhelmed with love and gratitude. He was horrified to feel tears welling up.
Mathias noticed, as he always did. “Are you okay?”
Flynn cleared his throat. “‘Course I am. Right as rain.” Mathias just cocked his head and waited, not letting him off that easily. “I suppose I’m feeling a bit sentimental,” he admitted eventually. “It’s just…” He gestured helplessly between them, struggling to put it into words that weren’t ‘marry me’, because he’d be damned if he were going to propose wearing just his undergarments, even if all he could think was ‘I need this to be my family forever’.
Mathias simply nodded, his gaze soft and understanding, and he held out a hand which Flynn gladly took. “I know,” he said softly. “Me too.”
Flynn just squeezed his hand, opening his mouth to speak without any real idea of what he was about to say. Luckily at that exact moment, both his stomach and Ruby let out impatient growls.
“All right, let’s get you two fed,” Mathias chuckled, heading down the stairs. Flynn took a moment to compose himself, then another few to dash back into the bedroom and check the ring was safely hidden, before heading into the kitchen after his family.
Chapter Three