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I
Silver didn’t amount to much, when it came to worth. Cast off into second place, it never had the slightest chance for the spotlight unless compared with the lackluster shine of lesser metals.
Perhaps that association was one reason Rayleigh idled through life, taking his time finding a place for himself. Being a leader seemed out of his reach and too much pressure, yet he was reluctant to follow anyone who proved to be less than the best. For a long time, he was alone.
As skeptical as ever when that man walked into his life, he resented being taken for a fool. But in that way where one is played while pretending to ignore it, he was rapidly pulled into the unceasing current that was Gol D. Roger. The man had a drive about him so powerful that his head ached before he felt the wind sweeping him off his feet.
He knew then, this was what it was like to truly lead. To draw in others before they’re given the chance to make a decision. A simple ‘us’ from the man let him know they were glued together by an irresistible force like that of gravity. Any statement was filled with so much confidence and knowing that it came off as fact.
Beside this man, he was content to follow for the first time, just to see where he would be taken.
II
However, it wasn’t long before Rayleigh discovered that many aspects of being led around by Roger were frustrating.
The man didn’t appear entirely conscious of the fact that he was nigh impossible to turn down, for one. It encouraged light teasing, where Rayleigh would avoid committing to anything from important questions to imbecilic nothings for hours before making a show of coming to an agreement. How elated the man would be when he won each time was bothersome.
There was a golden glint to his unceasing smile, which Rayleigh couldn’t be sure was his imagination after some weeks. With it came a certain charm that brought many to swoon; while Roger never lost sight of his goal, his popularity wherever they went was wearing. Just being acquainted with a man who was the center of attention tired him, so it was remarkable how he managed in his eye.
How unguarded he was, especially in his sleep, was not only troublesome, but stressful. In case anyone were to attempt an ambush in the night, Rayleigh slept sitting up at attention, only to be graced by Roger’s content snoring accompanied by the gentle lapping of waves when he drifted between dreams and consciousness.
There were dozens of times when Roger didn’t apologize for his actions, and yet the few times he tried, Rayleigh couldn’t help feeling at fault for some inexplicable reason.
On numerous occasions, his personal boundary was breached by an oblivious Roger. Only drinking himself off the deep end allowed him to relax in the man’s friendly embrace, and that never resulted in a pleasant morning. Of course, while Rayleigh was stuck over-thinking things, Roger’s behavior was relaxed as can be.
What went on in his captain’s head was an enigma. Rayleigh found himself wondering to no end what he thought about - what he understood and what slipped through his grasp. Was he really so naïve? It didn’t seem the case any time Rayleigh had the opportunity to glimpse that inner knowing side.
The effect of his own actions on others was one thing Rayleigh was confident did not leave a clear picture in Roger’s mind. As much as he claimed to care, his intentions were unabashedly geared towards personal gain. Fortunately, that didn’t bother Rayleigh terribly. Roger’s happiness was contagious, so before long he took pleasure in simply being there to see the man advance. It didn’t seem like anything could stop him, and the thought allowed him security.
His own confidence leapt when they made a name for themselves as partners: as equals. He couldn’t tell when it happened, but there was a point when he stopped feeling like second place to the man. Instead he was the other side of a single coin. Most people hadn’t heard of them, but any that knew the name “Gold” Roger knew Silvers Rayleigh with him.
III
“Oohhh, a bite- Rayleigh, I’ve got one ‘ere!” Roger gestured hurriedly with one hand for attention, leaning his whole weight against the tug opposite his end of the thin string. So much that he nearly fell from his seat beside Rayleigh upon the bulwark.
“Quit shouting,” Rayleigh started, ignoring the incessant rambling he’d grown only somewhat accustomed to in their short time together, eyes focused on his own pole. Not having had a spot of luck for hours, he let his attention drift to the point where Roger’s line met the ocean. “Hey-” he barked, and more frantically, “don’t pull yet!”
The hook popped up from the surface anticlimactically, bringing with it an air of dismay that weighed down upon them. “Aw bugger me,” Roger said, ruffling his own hair as he watched the surface, calm as it had been throughout the afternoon. Good-natured as ever, he chuckled and began to reel his line back in.
“What did I tell you last time?” Rayleigh sighed, perhaps with more exaggeration than necessary.
He was answered with a short bout of laughter, and, raising his brow, he continued in exasperation, “There ain’t gonna be any dinner tonight if you keep scaring the damn fish away. You know how far we are from the next patch of land.”
Again, Roger’s obnoxious sniggering.
“What in hell is so funny about starving?” he asked finally, bewildered. The reaction was beyond his comprehension, and for a moment he felt the man may have been sent overboard by hunger.
“‘S not that.” An apologetic wave caught Rayleigh’s eye as Roger appeared to be calming. “Y’ could be someone’s mum, Ray,” he explained, stifling a final chuckle.
The dry look that was sent back by Rayleigh was enough to straighten him up a little, a wide, reassuring grin filling out his features. It was the kind of expression that shot down any sense of uncertainty he felt without even a word. Of course, by now, he knew what was coming next.
“Don’t get yer knickers twisted, neither o’ us is gonna die ‘ere.”
And Rayleigh didn’t need to hear any more to feel content, his shaking shoulders the only sign of an otherwise silent laugh.
He smiled - not big, but warm - as he asked, “And who told you that?”
Without hesitation Roger responded, “The fates, who’d ya think? Nyahaha!”
Reaching up to his face, Rayleigh shook his head and exhaled a short breath. In the next moment, his eyes widened. “Ah.”
“Ooh! Get ‘im, Rayleigh!” Roger turned excitedly, casting his rod aside in favor of cheering the other man on.
“I will if you shut your trap already,” Rayleigh grumbled through his teeth, eyes focused on the taut fishing line before him. Distantly, he could hear Roger’s laughter, but paid it no mind. He waited, ignoring the other’s impatience. Sound dripped away from him, so he was left with only the fish, the line, the arched tip of the rod. The waves concealing the fish were no longer. When all was right, he moved without hesitation, guiding it - flopping and frantic to escape - into the air. In the next several seconds all he could think of was sleeping with a full stomach, and before he knew it he had the wobbly fish over the rail and on the deck at their feet.
The slap of a hand on his back pulled him into reality with a start, and Rayleigh cast his captain a weary look as he set down the rod and pulled the hook out the lip of his catch. Typically, Roger either didn’t catch it or was ignoring him (it was always difficult to decipher which).
“Whew, that’s a big’un. Who’s starving tonight again, huh?” Roger’s laugh was sharp beside his ear, and he winced, shoulders hunching up.
Sometimes, he couldn’t help but wonder if some god (devil?) had been on the man’s side all his life. Despite his every intention to deny the ‘destiny’ they were apparently bound to, it managed to bother him from time to time. Especially so when they were blessed with such good fortune. He had nearly lost hope a couple times already, but they seemed to be sent just the right amount of luck to survive.
“You are, catch your own damn fish,” Rayleigh grumbled tiredly, wishing he meant it. Of course, Roger already appeared to know it was going to be shared in the end. “Quit laughing. I’m serious.” There was no substance to his words, obligatory at best. His hand found a knife in a nearby bucket; in a moment he’d put the fish to rest.
“Sure y’are, sure! Nyahaha.”
Feeling the hand on his shoulder, Rayleigh gave in. He knew it was a futile attempt, unable to argue any further on the subject. A fish this size was easily a meal for two, and he should get to preparing it rather than wasting time. While he wanted to get up, having Roger over his shoulder made the process a little difficult. Feeling the man’s breath on his face didn’t exactly aid the situation.
“Is hovering necessary?” Rayleigh asked uncomfortably, doing his level best to prevent his body’s natural desire to shudder.
“Mhmn,” Roger drawled, watching as the fish’s head was separated cleanly from its body. He inhaled deep, eyes closed as he said, “Smells good.”
“The fish, I hope you mean.” Rayleigh had to question that himself, the smell of raw fish and guts permeating the air around them. It was the accompanying smell of the salt and the sea that he supposed Roger enjoyed, and supplemented by pangs of hunger, it was, he admitted, a comforting scent.
“Mn?” There was a brief spell of confusion, before Roger nodded eagerly. “Yup, the fish. Le’mme decide what piece I want.”
Some part of Rayleigh was unsure if that was the truth, only realizing belatedly that it was perhaps just not the answer he had wanted. The thought didn’t particularly shock him, he simply didn’t know what to make of it. He supposed it had been this way for some time already, having little issue coming to terms.
“If you don’t mind...” Reaching back with one hand, he gave Roger’s face a shove and ignored the hungry whine. “At least wait until I’ve gone and cooked it.”
IV
They ate together normally that evening, drank what little ale remained on the ship, and, eventually, slept. At least, Roger did. Rayleigh had a few hours left to himself as per usual, sometimes watching the waves or the stars, sometimes watching his captain doze with his hat covering his face and a blanket pulled over his shoulders. (On such a small boat, it was rare for the other man to be out of sight.)
Whether or not he had been trying to rile him up, Rayleigh found himself somewhat disappointed that he hadn’t sensed much intent from Roger’s end earlier. The man had never proven to be a particularly sexual person, so he was hardly surprised at this. But he couldn’t possibly imagine him being ignorant at his age; it was more that there seemingly was a much stronger ambition he refused to be distracted from. His grand desire to turn over the world made such relations seem disruptive at most, but Rayleigh knew he was thinking too far into it once again.
More likely, the possibility hadn’t even crossed Roger’s mind.
V
Another month passed
“This destiny of yours...” Rayleigh started, dropping a blanket in Roger’s lap and getting settled beside him with his own. Draping it over his shoulders and adjusting it until he was comfortable, he leant back against the bulwark as Roger was, watching him do the same with less care.
“Hmn?” Questioned Roger when Rayleigh showed no sign of finishing his thought without a prompt. He had been about to fall asleep, yawning as he pushed his hat out of his face to acknowledge the conversation.
“How much of it is based off some horse shit you made up?” The question was blunt, as Rayleigh was tired of wondering to himself if Roger knew how ridiculous the prospect was. He felt entitled to an answer before they were much further down the line.
“Ah. Mmn.” Roger was quiet for a minute, sitting up enough that Rayleigh was confident he realized this was important to him. “All of it,” he replied just as plainly.
“So-”
Clearly sensing Rayleigh’s discontent with being dragged into a journey by baseless statements, Roger interrupted anything he was about to say. “Before y’ get ruffled, who else’s gonna make up my destiny, hmn?”
Rayleigh thought about this for some moments, quickly coming to realize Roger’s point. “Touché,” he conceded, though he looked at him expectantly, waiting for some sort of validation.
“What matters is makin’ it happen, yeah?” Roger gestured with one hand, knocking his blanket down his front and having to pull it back up. Rayleigh couldn’t help a chuckle, contented by the action as well as the knowledge that his captain was not leading him as blindly as he had suspected.
“So you haven’t been babbling about some act of the gods all this time,” he thought aloud, simply wanting it confirmed.
“Gods my ass.” Roger sat forward as he spoke, again pushing the blanket into his lap. His brows were furrowed in some sort of internal conflict. “Ray, y’ think I’ve been a quack since the beginnin’?”
“The thought came up frequently enough,” admitted Rayleigh, shrugging loosely. Despite his own prior confusion, it probably only happened like this because the grand words were so motivating, so he wasn’t as bothered as he suspected he might be upon hearing the truth. Roger just happened to be a normal guy with a big dream and the kind of voice people listened to.
He appeared baffled by Rayleigh’s amused smile though, as if he believed he had been transparent from the start. When he did manage to turn the events around from an outside perspective, he laughed out heartily. Rayleigh could only wonder silently to himself if this was the first time the man realized what he could do to people. It wasn’t something he could bring himself to ask, nor did he want the answer.
“Thing about destiny ‘s...” Roger began to explain, pausing to pull his blanket up another time and get settled. “All it takes ‘s bein’ in the right place at the right time. I’ve just happened to inherit a knack for it.”
“Wouldn’t anyone else just say you’re a high stakes gambler with a lucky streak?” Rayleigh pointed out, finding it a lot simpler to understand that way.
“Nyahaha!” Roger laughed out, resisting the urge to reach out and pat Rayleigh on the shoulder. “Y’ could put it that way, sure sure.” Chuckling more quietly to himself, he let his head fall back and closed his eyes.
“And all that talk when you hopped on my damn boat like it was yours?” Added Rayleigh.
There wasn’t any hesitation in Roger’s voice as he answered, “I liked the boat. Don’t pass up anythin’ I like.”
Unconvinced, Rayleigh turned more to get a better look at Roger’s face, belatedly noticing he was cut off from making eye contact. It wasn’t something that happened frequently, and he suspected it meant the gears in Roger’s head were working harder than he showed on the outside. “There were dozens of better boats in town that day.”
“Mmn.” There was a short, calculated pause, but it was just long enough to confirm Rayleigh’s suspicions. “Suppose I didn’t like the people on ‘em.” In reality, Roger could barely remember anything about the day besides their meeting.
“And you happened to like me...” Rayleigh prompted, a sense of disbelief still lingering in his tone, feeling bold enough right now to back the man into a verbal corner for the answer he wanted to hear.
“Mmyup, had a feeling here.” Noticing Roger’s arm moving under the blanket, Rayleigh assumed correctly that he was patting his gut. “Somethin’ said you can put up with a lot o’ horse shit, ‘s all we’re gonna run into on the Grand Line y’know.”
It wasn’t exactly how he had hoped it would be phrased, but Rayleigh was happy to take what he could get out of the man. Knowing he had felt connected to him rather than just the boat was comforting, and he was glad to have started this little talk.
“I’m not entirely sure if I should take that as a compliment,” he responded warily, cocking a brow and sending an attractive smirk in Roger’s direction. It wasn’t missed, as the man had looked over in the same moment, but Rayleigh wasn’t sure if he was embarrassed to be caught or pleased.
Either way, Roger didn’t appear to glean anything from the look besides sarcasm, a typical “Nyahahaha!” bursting from deep in his chest.
Deciding to allow himself a moment’s respite, Rayleigh refrained from responding this time around. He relaxed his shoulders, resting his head back. Roger thankfully did appear to pick up on his occasional need for quiet, occupying himself by shuffling under his blanket more to keep it from slipping off his shoulders again anytime soon. Enough time passed with only the sound of their breathing and the ocean accompanying him in the frosty night air that Roger was left wondering if Rayleigh had fallen asleep earlier for once. He scrutinized the man’s face for what ended up being several minutes, though he barely felt the time pass. About to reach out to rouse him, he visibly started when one of Rayleigh’s eyes opened questioningly.
The light laughing, Rayleigh realized, was an attempt to come off as nonchalant when he was clearly perturbed by something - he’d never heard Roger laugh like that before. It wasn’t something he had a built-in response to either, so he let it gloss over him as though he didn’t notice, if just to assuage the man’s conscience. Regarding him quietly and examining what of his face he could make out in the dark, he eventually turned his attention to the night sky instead. A sigh indicated Roger’s apparent relief, and he took note.
“As much as you like it, this boat isn’t capable of sailing the Grand Line.”
Confused by the line of conversation, Roger was silent, his prior thoughts distracted as he attempted to follow Rayleigh’s pace.
“We’ll need a proper crew as well,” Rayleigh added decisively. He knew it was obvious to both of them that it would happen eventually, but putting it out there in the open let him feel secure in the fact. He was starting to understand little by little what made Roger tick.
“Wull yeah, but-” Roger attempted to interject, only finding that he had nothing to argue.
“No buts, I don’t care how sure you are, turning everyone on their ass is going to take more than luck,” Rayleigh pointed out, deciding here and now that Roger wasn’t going anywhere without a voice of reason by his side. His captain could spout all the ideals he wanted, but it was his self-appointed duty to ground those thoughts in reality.
“’S a good boat.” Roger sounded a little discomfited by the thought of ditching the boat he had met Rayleigh on, that had been his home for a couple months that felt like longer. He was well-aware Rayleigh was right though, it was far too small to house a crew.
“It’s not touching the water on the other side of the Red Line,” insisted Rayleigh. “We’ll have a much better ship.”
Rayleigh was amused with the disconcerted look on Roger’s face, only watching out the corner of his eye. The man didn’t seem accustomed to being on the receiving end of such assuring, confident words. Deciding a change of subject was in order, he asked, “So, what’s the Grand Line like?”
“Dunno, but I heard ‘s a pirate’s paradise.”
They laughed, and sooner or later, they slept.
VI
A bead of sweat ran down Rayleigh’s forehead in a thin rivulet, coming to hang off his eyebrow. Before the back of his hand made it to his face, it dripped onto the newspaper he was trying to read, and he exhaled a long sigh. Across the way, Roger was propped up on the stairs, fanning himself with his hat. The sun beat down on their skin mercilessly at high noon in this area, and neither bothered to expend much energy to even speak.
Grimacing at the words blurred by countless splotches of oils, Rayleigh gave up and set the paper aside. Pushing his damp bangs out of his face, he belatedly decided his shirt was too much and peeled it off. While Roger had done so much earlier, Rayleigh was more prone to burning with his fair skin, and what had been bare already was a pinkish tinge that formed distinct lines around where his shirt had covered.
Rayleigh could hear Roger laughing at this and regarded him with an irritated glance, before returning to wiping himself down with his shirt. Once he tossed the article of clothing aside, he turned to lean over the side of the ship, resting his weight on his forearms. Though he felt Roger’s eyes on him, he showed no response, too lethargic to question him or derive anything from it.
He didn’t even think much of it when he heard him standing and moving around, or his footsteps approaching. It was only when he felt hands on his ankles lifting that Rayleigh reacted with a surprised shout, flailing as he was flipped and tumbled down into the ocean. Submerged in the cool water so suddenly, he expelled countless air bubbles as he struggled to find up. Eventually surfacing and overwhelmed by an immediate coughing fit, he wasn’t given a moment’s notice as Roger cannonballed in right on top of him, subsequently pushing him underwater once more. He didn’t manage to come up on his own this time, hauled to the surface by his overly delighted captain who didn’t seem at all sorry that he hadn’t calculated his jump right.
“You... son of a-” He broke down into another fit of coughing, and was somewhat relieved to find he was still being supported with Roger’s hands under his arms. It also made him feel like a child, but being able to finish coughing up salt water without worrying about treading was enough to appease him.
“Hmn? Feel better now, Rayleigh?” Roger asked when the fit appeared to be dying down, gradually releasing Rayleigh into the water.
“H-hardly.” Hacking like a cat for another moment, he spit out a large amount of water and wiped his mouth.
“Oh yer fine,” insisted Roger, brushing off Rayleigh’s plight as if nothing had happened. “A little salt and fish shit ain’t killed no one.”
Turning towards his captain with a wary eye, Rayleigh noticed that Roger had allowed himself the liberty of removing his trousers and shoes before jumping in. “Could have let me change too,” he complained half-heartedly. “These boots ‘ll take days to dry.”
“Eh, we don’t have t’ depart anytime soon,” responded Roger noncommittally.
“Could you be anymore carefree?” Rayleigh’s tone was clearly annoyed, and had been since he’d been knocked off the boat.
A loose shrug. “‘S not like we’re in any rush right now, yeah?”
“There’s no reason to hang around this island.” It wasn’t anything particularly great; it was always sweltering, and they would need to stock up on food a second time since they were bound to use a decent amount of what they already picked up.
“Mmn,” Roger gestured to Rayleigh’s shoes, already soaked through with water. “Haven’t I just made a reason?”
“Oh, shove off.” With the back of his hand he sent a splash of water at Roger’s face.
He probably should have predicted the retaliation would be several times stronger, a large wave of a splash washing right over him. Admittedly, it felt pretty good when he was already wet. In the next moment he lunged at Roger, catching him by surprise and pushing him under with his weight. He could feel arms about him, unable to react in time before he was dunked full-force. Instead of attempting to come back up like Roger expected though, he pulled until his head pointed down and kicked out rapidly with his feet, drawing the man under with him. The way Roger’s hands were positioned was ideal however, and the space between them gave him ample tickling room. Startled, Rayleigh exhaled a cloud of bubbles, his face contorting. He shook his head ‘no’, but that didn’t stop Roger’s onslaught. It soon forced him to rise to the surface, laughing and breathless. He held onto Roger’s shoulders for support as he came down from laughing, relieved that the tickling had stopped at least. He couldn’t help but notice Roger’s hands had yet to move from the spot just below his ribs, but didn’t make any attempt to deter him for several moments.
Eventually, he spoke. “Let’s get back on the damn boat, Captain...”
Roger looked disappointed at this, but removed himself from Rayleigh’s space to lay back in the water. “A’ight... yeah...” he murmured, chest heaving with deep breaths.
Rayleigh didn’t wait up, climbing aboard while Roger waded, looking up at the cloudless blue sky. Fleetingly, he wondered what he was thinking about - if anything - until he was out of sight.
By the time Roger was aboard as well, Rayleigh had changed into a pair of dry trousers. He had a towel about his shoulders, and was hanging out his wet clothing. Out the corner of his eye he watched his captain, dripping wet, wring the water out his hair and shake his head like a dog. When he began to stretch his arms above his head and turn to crack his back, Rayleigh looked away.
“Ahh, I really needed that.” Rayleigh barely heard Roger speak, his voice growing distant. His own thoughts swelled to occupy the space in his mind, leaving no room for external noise. So when Roger asked for him to pass the towel, it went in one ear and out the other.
The next thing Rayleigh knew, Roger’s hand was before his eyes, waving for his attention. He blinked a few times, turning his head to find him standing directly behind him with his face in his towel. Shrugging it off his shoulder when it occurred to him to do so, Rayleigh watched him as he ruffled his hair with it and patted himself down.
“Just ask next time,” he murmured belatedly, soon returning his attention to the task at hand.
“Did.”
Picking up the next piece of damp clothing, Rayleigh shook it out and began to hang it on the line with the others. “Hn,” was the only acknowledgement he gave Roger.
“The heat already getting t’ y’ again, Ray?” He heard Roger ask, and had to wonder to himself if it was the case. He wasn’t feeling up to speed at any rate, but he had attributed that to being annoyed and distracted in his thoughts.
“Not particularly,” he answered eventually, if just to satisfy Roger.
“Liar,” Roger insisted, only further concerned by the behavior. “Y’ look a lot redder than I thought.” Reaching out, he set his palm on the burnt part of Rayleigh’s arm. There was a sharp hiss of surprised pain and Rayleigh flinched away. Red seeped rapidly into the white print left by his hand, but neither said anything for several moments.
Within the minutes that Rayleigh spent finishing hanging out his clothing, Roger opened his mouth a few times, attempting to make an apology. When he was finally geared up for it though, Rayleigh cut him off with a sharp couple of snaps. Back still turned, he gestured for Roger to give him something. “Hand ‘em over,” he demanded.
Roger could only look blankly at Rayleigh’s hand, then down at himself. The only thing he had was a wet pair of... “Ah,” he realized then. “Sure.” Pushing his underwear down, he stepped out of them and handed them over.
As he hung them out and tied the line down, Rayleigh could hear Roger padding across the deck towards the spot he dropped his pants. He had picked them up and was stepping into them by the time Rayleigh said sternly, “And go fetch a clean pair before you get dressed.”
Chuckling when he heard Roger huff, Rayleigh watched him stomp through the corner of his vision towards the cabin carrying his pants. It wasn’t a big deal to Rayleigh, just amused with the fact that he complied without making a jibe about ‘being mothered’. The action was more than enough to show he felt bad.
But the man was inside far longer than necessary, and after roughly ten minutes sitting on the steps watching the waves as he had been before being tossed in, Rayleigh had to wonder what he was up to. Deciding he was overdue to get out of the direct sun himself, he got up and headed inside. It wasn’t any cooler, unfortunately, and perhaps worse without the breeze, so he grew only more confused over what Roger was doing.
Hearing noise from the small kitchen area, he found him cutting something up. Upon closer inspection, he realized it was an aloe plant they had collected in abundance at a prior island. While Roger hadn’t looked up, Rayleigh knew he noticed his presence.
“Ah. You didn’t have to-” he started, only for Roger to butt in.
“What good’s a cap’n who doesn’t take care o’ his first mate, yeah?”
Not impressed in the least, Rayleigh commented dryly, “You say this after throwing me overboard...”
“It helped and y’ know it,” insisted Roger, who would not easily be convinced otherwise. The cold water had certainly made him feel better.
Unwilling to put up much of a fight, Rayleigh yielded earlier than usual, giving Roger a half-hearted wave and a, “Yeah, yeah.”
Roger was grinning already, gesturing for Rayleigh to take a seat. He patted the back of a chair with enthusiasm, and Rayleigh reluctantly strode the few steps towards him and turned around. He watched Roger juice the aloe leaf, eyes lingering on his hands as he squeezed the medicinal oils into a whiskey glass, and waited silently in hopes that it would prompt him to speak.
“This’ll fix y’ up in a jiffy.” Roger wiped the excess on his trousers and took the glass in his hand, dipping his fingers in.“‘S cold, so don’t jump.”
Rayleigh had a distinct feeling then that Roger was avoiding something important on his mind, but he got into a position that would make it easier for him to go about this anyway. As Roger began to spread the cool liquid over the back of his neck, he shuddered despite the warning. The man was being particularly generous with the amount, some trailing down his spine before it was rubbed in. He could feel the rough calluses on Roger’s hand as he did so, and closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling.
When Roger asked if that was enough here, he only nodded in response. Even then, he barely moved, but it was enough for Roger to read him. It continued in a similar silence while Roger tended to his arms, and Rayleigh occupied himself within his thoughts. He barely noticed that he was smiling. After a while, he picked up on how Roger was concentrating on his arms when only a small section of them had been burned.
“My chest needs a lot more of that, don’t waste it,” he pointed out, unable to help wondering if he missed a shift in Roger’s expression with his eyes closed.
“Wull turn around then,” Roger didn’t hesitate to say, patting Rayleigh on the shoulder. Once Rayleigh pulled his legs around to the opposite side of the chair, he made eye-contact quietly, but he couldn’t pick anything out of the man’s eyes like he had hoped he might. Roger held his gaze steadily, confidently. Unsatisfied, Rayleigh made a grab for the aloe, but his hand was pushed aside. “I got it, a’ight?”
“Alright.”
Pouring a liberal amount into his palm, Roger made a mess of Rayleigh’s front in seconds, causing the man to shiver violently for a moment. “Too much, damn it.”
“Gotta slouch a bit, or ’s gettin’ all over yer pants too,” Roger warned, chuckling softly as he waited.
When Rayleigh seemed comfortable enough in his adjusted position, he said, “Go on, then,” encouragingly. Roger’s hand was soon on his chest again, rubbing in careful strokes over the wide stretch of pink skin. It should have taken a minute or two at most, but it was several later that Rayleigh made to remove the hand. It didn’t budge, however, tensing under his grip.
He frowned as Roger looked him straight in the eye, and knew he was the one being analyzed.
“That’s more than enough,” Rayleigh insisted, frustrated with the thought that Roger’s eyes may have delved directly through to the root of his concerns when he still struggled to figure out what the man was thinking.
Finally, Roger spoke up. “Close yer eyes,” he said, smiling in a way that relaxed every muscle in Rayleigh’s body “Jus’ do it.”
And Rayleigh did so apprehensively at first. Then, in anticipation.
With his whole hand, Roger smeared the aloe down from Rayleigh’s forehead to his chin. Startled, Rayleigh waved an arm out to bat at Roger, but it was dodged.
“Nyahaha!” he laughed, obnoxiously loud. “What’d y’ think I was gonna do? K-”
“Kiss me, you jackass,” was enough to bring the laughter to a sudden halt, and Roger regarded Rayleigh evenly for a short stretch of time.
“A’ight.” He didn’t need to be told twice, soon bridging the gap between them, his lips meeting Rayleigh’s with perhaps too much force. A little late to realize he’d be getting a mouthful of aloe, he grimaced as he pulled back. “That doesn’ taste too good, for th’ record.”
VII
Urging Rayleigh back, Roger clambered over him until he straddled his thighs, the cot creaking under their weight. The two were short of breath and, needing to catch up, Rayleigh laid back willingly. His chest heaved under Roger’s explorative hands, which lingered and groped as though they had been itching to do so earlier. He watched his captain fumble with his belt next, a deep noise escaping when he felt a light brush of friction through the fabric. Lifting up, he helped in pushing his trousers down until his hands met Roger’s thighs.
Sitting up just enough to undo Roger’s belt for him, Rayleigh yanked at the jeans, still damp from when Roger got into them without drying off. He grunted in exertion, unable to do much from his current position. Soon, Roger noticed the issue, resting his weight on one hand and leaning forward enough to slide them down his hips. Finding his forehead flush against Roger’s chest, Rayleigh made a noise halfway between appreciation and complaint.
It was still unbearably hot at dusk, and all Rayleigh could smell was the sweat dripping off Roger, a thick musk built up between them. He spent a moment off in his head before noticing that the man in his lap had stopped moving. Taking a few deep breaths, he prompted, “Cold feet, Captain?”
Roger pulled back enough that he realized that wasn’t the case, expression concerned. But before Rayleigh could tease him further, he spoke up, short of breath. “We haven’t uh, got any slick.”
“Isn’t there anything else?” There was a desperation not often heard in Rayleigh’s voice as he realized their predicament.
“Uhm,” Roger started, reaching up to wipe his forehead with the back of his hand. “The aloe?”
“No.” He couldn’t imagine that being anything other than painful.
“Cooking oil.” Roger seemed hopeful at this, but Rayleigh shook his head.
“Too expensive,” he insisted. His body ached for touch and Roger responded to his groan by taking him in his hand. Rayleigh’s hips bucked and Roger stroked him as he wracked his brain.
“Soap?” he suggested weakly, his own arousal throbbing for attention.
“This is ridiculous,” groaned Rayleigh, his frustrations mounting in time with his desperate need.
“Wasn’t me who started it,” returned Roger. A few moments passed in quiet, the two simply listening to one another’s heavy panting. “Ah,” he said suddenly. “Hold on.”
Roger moved back, and Rayleigh’s legs were lifted, pulled over his shoulders. Any confused objections went ignored, though Rayleigh hardly put up a fight when it occurred to him what the other man was doing.
“Have you done this before?” Regardless, the anticipation welled up within him, and he took a sharp inhale as he watched his face disappear between his thighs.
Roger began to utter a negative before correcting himself with a grunt. “A girl asked for it once...” His breath was hot on Rayleigh’s skin seconds before he came into contact.
While he tried to respond to that, Rayleigh’s words were a jumbled mess that fell from his lips in a low moan. He made to relax as best as he could for Roger’s tongue, a shudder washing through him as he felt the gentle pressure. “Go on...” he encouraged, only receiving a muffled acknowledgement as Roger’s tongue pushed past the clenching ring of muscle. Gasping, his head fell to the cot, back arching involuntarily. He barely registered the sight of Roger raising his head just a bit, or that his expression was being gauged.
Pleased with the positive response, Roger’s enthusiasm rose quickly. His tongue slipped out and pushed back in with more gusto, eliciting a yelp from Rayleigh, whose hands had found their way into the dark mop of hair, gripping tight. Despite his attempts, his body was tense under the foreign intrusion, rejecting the slick muscle with ease. Unperturbed by this, Roger was already making up for lost time. Saliva dripping from his fingers, he eased one in slowly. His other hand occupied itself tending to Rayleigh’s arousal, alternating between light gripping and pumping.
“How’s it...?”
“Doesn’t hurt...”
Taking that as his cue to move forward, Roger added a finger. Another deep moan rumbled in Rayleigh’s chest, but he gradually relaxed enough that the digit slipped in next to the first. His thighs trembling, he flexed his legs, consequently digging his heels into Roger’s back and drawing him closer. Grinning at this, Roger chuckled softly and encouraged Rayleigh with a firm squeeze. His fingers pushed in to the knuckles, and he took great delight in the strangled sound that wrenched its way from his first mate’s throat.
His back arching off the cot, Rayleigh coughed out, “Goo- ...good! Hell...” Through squinted eyes he picked up on how intently Roger was eyeing him, but the eager fingers within him kept him far too distracted to consider the implications.
“Yeah? ‘S that good?” Roger didn’t expect a reply, half muttering to himself. The most Rayleigh could do at this point was nod anyhow. Curling his fingers and loosening him up a little further, he then removed them. Strong, adamant hands pushed Rayleigh’s thighs back until his knees hit his chest and Roger had his face down once more. It was several times easier to work his tongue in this time, the excess of saliva trailing between the cleft and along his raised spine. Overwhelmed by the sensations washing over him, obscene sounds dripped from Rayleigh’s lips, a tight clenching in his chest. His toes curled and his legs tensed until Roger’s face was smothered.
But it had been some time now since Roger had received any attention, and he had something else in mind entirely now. Seeing first-hand how much Rayleigh was enjoying this had him craving similar treatment, so before the man reached his expected release, he lifted his head and let his legs drop. The cot creaked in complaint beneath them as he adjusted their positions, getting into Rayleigh’s lap as he had been before and causing the man below him to do a double take.
“The hell’re you... doing...” he slurred, gasping between words as Roger’s ass brushed the overly sensitive tip. It took several seconds to put one and one together in his heady state, but by the time he had Roger already had his fingers in his own ass. The arm he braced himself on shook under his weight, so he didn’t spend too much time on the process before he was sitting on Rayleigh’s cock and giving him an insistent look.
It was too much - Rayleigh had resigned himself to not having to do much of the work. He’d been an inch from orgasm before it was taken away and his focus was waning. Still, desperate to finish, he took hold of the reins and drove himself into Roger; despite the rush, the resistance wasn’t as strong as expected. The precome that had gradually coated his full length aided things as well as the fact that Roger was apparently several times more relaxed and capable of letting him in. The next thing he heard was his captain’s voice hitting a much deeper note than usual, gritty and thick with need.
In Rayleigh’s lap, Roger moved to sit straight up, allowing gravity to settle him on the unyielding pressure. “Y’ weren’t shittin’ me.” He gasped as he shifted, tentatively rolling his hips.
“You’re a... goddamn... bastard,” Rayleigh responded when he could manage, trembling. His expression didn’t match his tone at all, and Roger laughed when he caught sight of the smirk.
“Giddy up already.” Reaching back, he slapped the side of Rayleigh’s thigh, then drew his hand along it.
It didn’t take any more than that to spark Rayleigh into action, his hips bucking. As they came down, the cot creaked in protest, but their pleasured moans drowned it out, as well as everything else.
Solely focused on each other, their erratic grinding and bucking and clenching drove the pair over the line within a few minutes. By the end of it, Roger had fallen forward, arms looped beneath his neck. Rayleigh’s face was smushed into his armpit as Roger clung to him, though he could hardly bring himself to complain, only turning his head enough that he could breathe.
Roger’s hips continued to give the occasional involuntary jerk, his body taking its time coming down from the overstimulation after some minutes that felt like an incredible delay. Neither spoke for quite a while, but when the quiet was eventually broken it was Rayleigh who decided to take the initiative.
“You reek,” was all he said, attempting to pull his face out from Roger’s armpit, but the man’s grip was overbearing. “Come on...” he said, more forcefully pushing at him. It was then that he finally picked up on the light snoring, an unconscious murmur the only response he got.
His brows furrowed and he struggled under the weight to pull himself out, limbs seeming to behave more like jello than bone. Eventually, he resigned himself to sleep as well.
VIII
He woke sometime in the early morning, before Roger as per usual. He felt sticky and weary, but had been kept warm by the body-heat blanket that had been covering through the night, despite his trousers being half down his legs. Very belatedly, he realized Roger had never completely removed his jeans either, and he couldn’t help laughing at how he must look from another angle. The man could sleep in any situation, he reckoned.
While he would have liked to convince himself he was content enough to lay around until Roger woke on his own, he didn’t have such luxuries thanks to his insistent bladder.
“Get up.”
“....Mmnn.. hmng,” Roger grumbled, half-conscious.
“Get up or you’re hitting the floor,” Rayleigh said, with more force behind his words.
“...’M not g-... giving you the treasure...”
Not in the best humor right this moment, Rayleigh didn’t get much amusement from Roger’s dream-talk. Taking a moment to gather what energy he had, he rolled onto his side and sent the man to the hardwood floor and stepped over him towards the toilet. When he returned several minutes later (he’d taken some time to get himself cleaned up), Roger was both back in the cot and under the blanket, snoozing away. The position he adopted did not allow the slightest room for him to get back in, as it was meant for only one person anyway, so he sat on the edge, watching him sleep in silence.
At least, he thought he was asleep. In the moment he turned his head away he caught the flicker of a blanket out the corner of his eye before getting dragged back under Roger (who had, to Rayleigh’s mild surprise, thought to fix his pants). To Roger’s dismay, Rayleigh was too mentally worn to react with much shock. There had been far too many surprises in the last twenty-four hours for him to be rattled easily.
“Don’t need any more sleep,” he said, regarding Roger calmly. With the man awake and not a dead weight, it was easier to sit up and urge him off. He couldn’t help but wonder what he had gotten himself into, a distant look in his eyes as he considered the differences this path would have than the one where he had never asked for a kiss.
“Who said we’re goin’ back t’ sleep, hmn?”
Rayleigh looked at him blankly for a number of seconds before it registered with him. “It’s mid morning!” he protested.
“So? We slept damn good,” Roger pointed out as though that explained everything.
“Don’t just assume, asshat,” Rayleigh retorted, beginning to get a bit heated in his tone.
“You didn’t?” Skeptical, Roger raised a brow, not believing the statement for a minute.
“I did,” admitted Rayleigh reluctantly. “But-” he paused, hesitating momentarily under Roger’s intense gaze. “But that’s not the point.”
“‘S my turn, I didn’t finish what I started.” Roger’s tone was insisting now, and Rayleigh already knew he was fighting a losing battle.
“You got distracted,” he reminded him anyway.
“Yer distracting,” Roger said, entirely unabashed by admitting to it.
Too flustered to speak immediately, it was all he could do to hold back a blush. In the next moment, Roger was moving in for a kiss. Rayleigh’s senses caught up to him just in time to remember where the man’s mouth had last been and he held him off. “Brush your goddamn teeth before you even think about it!”