Back at the Start (02)

Kastor exhales softly, his eyes fluttering shut for just a second as your lips brush his forehead. When he opens them again, there’s something unguarded in his expression, something raw and unspoken hanging between you. His fingers tighten around yours, his thumb tracing slow circles over your skin. "Jewels…" he says, voice barely above a whisper, but full of meaning. He turns his face slightly, pressing a lingering kiss to the inside of your palm, his lips warm and reverent. "After your mother heals me... I have other things you could take care of." He delivers it with a tease, but you see a hope in his eyes, as well as a hunger.

What do you do?

Kastor blinks at you, tilting his head like he’s replaying your words in his mind to make sure he didn’t mishear. Then he lets out a short, incredulous laugh, shaking his head. "Wait - hold on." His fingers tighten slightly where they rest against your waist. "You mean to tell me… you actually wanted me to make a move? I thought you were just teasing me."

"Jewels." His voice is lower now, rougher, his thumb skimming the curve of your hip. "You were waiting for me?" He exhales a breath, part frustration, part disbelief.

Kastor goes very still for a moment, his gaze locked onto yours as if he’s trying to confirm that you really said what he thinks you did. Then something shifts in his expression - his breath catches, his pupils darken, and the teasing glint in his eyes melts into something deeper, something more intense.

"Jewels," he says, almost like a prayer, almost like a curse. Then he moves. His hand slides up your side, slow and deliberate, his fingertips dragging heat in their wake. His other hand cups your jaw, his thumb brushing over your cheek, over the corner of your mouth. His lips part slightly, like he’s savoring the moment, like he’s about to say something else - but then he doesn’t.

Because he kisses you. And gods, does he kiss you.

It’s not hesitant this time, not teasing or restrained - it’s everything he’s been holding back, everything he thought he wasn’t allowed to want. His lips press against yours with heat, with hunger, with a desperation that makes your pulse spike. He leans into you, his body warm and solid, his fingers threading into your hair as he deepens the kiss, like he’s been starving for this. For you.

When he finally pulls back, just enough to let you breathe, his forehead rests against yours. His voice is rough, breathless. "Tell me you’re not messing with me," he murmurs. "Tell me I get to have this - get to have you."

Kastor’s breath catches in his throat, captivated by the sight before him. He gently eases you down onto the boat, moving to peel off his toga and join you. "Oh, I want you," he answers hungrily between kisses. Your head swims, tangled in the intoxicating pull of desire, as his mouth moves across your cheek to your neck, peppering kisses along your sun-dappled flesh, his mouth as hot as the sun shining above. The waves lap gently against the hull of your boat, the sound blending seamlessly with the erratic rhythm of your shared breaths. The clouds overhead drift by like dozens of puffy witnesses to your passion. It feels like Protigi needs this moment and savors it with you.

Your body arches as Kastor frelling Black kisses down your neck to lavish affection on your breasts - each in turn. His hands move down your sides, caressing and worshipping your body. He scoops a hand behind your back to hold you close as he suckles and nibbles at your flesh. "I've missed you, Jewels... so much," he whispers to your flesh reverently. He trails kisses down your tummy towards your core.

What do you do?

Kastor’s hands, rough from sword practice yet careful in their reverence, glide over your skin, tracing the curve of your waist with aching slowness. He leans over you, his breath warm against your belly before he presses a kiss there, then another, the press of his lips a worshipful contrast to the heat of the sun above. "You have no idea," he murmurs, his voice thick, almost reverent. His fingers skim up your side, memorizing, savoring.

The boat shifts slightly with the weight of him as he moves, his lean frame solid against you. Every touch, every stolen breath between kisses, speaks of all the time you spent apart - of longing, of want, of something deeper. The warmth of his body against yours is undeniable, and the way he looks at you - like you're the only thing in this endless sea - sends a thrilling shiver down your spine.

"Jewels…" he exhales your name like a prayer before his lips trail lower, down to where your pulse beats wildly beneath his touch. The rhythm of the ocean matches the rhythm of your heartbeat, steady yet insistent, carrying you both toward something inevitable, something you’ve both been aching for.

Kastor’s mouth is warm - so warm it feels like fire against your sun-kissed skin, yet it sends shivers down your spine with every slow, deliberate press of his lips. His breath is a soft contrast to the heat of the sun above, teasing where it lingers after each kiss. When he moves lower, the dampness of his mouth against your thigh makes your skin feel impossibly sensitive, like he’s marking you, branding you with the shape of his lips.

His kisses aren’t rushed; they linger, savoring, as if he’s memorizing every inch of you with his mouth. When his tongue flicks out, just barely tracing along the edge of your labia, a soft gasp escapes you. He exhales a quiet chuckle against your skin, and the vibration of it - low and husky - sends a slow ache curling through your stomach.

His teeth gently graze against your clit, testing, before he soothes the spot with another lingering kiss. There’s a delicious contrast between the sharp and the soft, between the reverence in his touch and the growing urgency in the way his lips map your body. Every time he pulls away, the breeze off the Aegean makes the places he kissed feel cooler, more exposed, making you crave the warmth of his mouth again.

And gods, when he presses an open-mouthed kiss on your wetness, his tongue barely teasing the salt from your skin, the world tilts. The boat rocks gently with the waves, but it’s nothing compared to the way Kastor is unraveling you, piece by piece, with nothing more than his lips, his tongue, his devotion.

His breath is warm against your collarbone as he murmurs your name like a prayer, the syllables of it melting into your skin. The ocean rocks the boat in time with your own unsteady breathing, the salt air mixing with the scent of him - earthy, familiar, utterly intoxicating. And the way he touches you - it's not just passion, it's something deeper. It's a promise in the way he maps you out with his mouth, in the way he lingers as if memorizing the way your pulse flutters for him. His hands press against your skin like he’s afraid you’ll slip away, as if anchoring himself to you is the only way to keep from drifting out to sea.

You don’t know how long you lie there beneath him, tangled in sunlight and the rhythm of the waves, but when he lifts his head to look at you, there’s something raw in his gaze, something that steals the breath from your lungs. "I never stopped wanting you," he murmurs, and you know it isn’t just about this moment - it’s about every stolen glance, every time he turned away when you wished he wouldn’t, every second that led you both here.

Kastor slides up your body when you reply to his confession. He exhales, his breath warm against your cheek as he presses his forehead to yours, his fingers brushing over the tear on your temple, catching it before it disappears into your hair. His touch is achingly gentle, a contrast to the storm of emotions swirling between you both.

"It's in our past," he murmurs, but you can hear the strain in his voice, the way he wants to believe it even if the pain still lingers between you. His thumb strokes over your cheek, tracing the shape of you like he’s memorizing it all over again. "We're here now."

His lips ghost over your skin - not in hunger this time, but in something quieter, something deeper. He kisses the tear’s path, his mouth soft against your temple, your cheek, down to the corner of your lips where another sigh escapes you. "I..." Kastor closes his eyes for a beat before he speaks again. "I want to make love to you, my precious Jewels."

The rocking of the boat mirrors the slow, deliberate movement between you, the rhythm of the water below lulling you into something deeper than passion - something vast, like the ocean surrounding you both. Kastor lies beneath you, his hands gripping your waist, his fingers pressing into your skin as if grounding himself in your presence. His eyes, dark with something unspoken, never leave yours, and in them, you see the reflection of everything you both have lost and found again.

The sun has begun its slow descent, painting the sky in hues of gold and fire, the light catching in the waves and shimmering against Kastor’s skin. He is warm beneath your hands, the steady rise and fall of his breath against you an anchor in the shifting tide of sensation. You can feel the strength of him, the tension in his muscles beneath your fingertips as you trace his shoulders, the curve of his jaw, committing the shape of him to memory as if he might disappear the moment you close your eyes.

His lips part as he exhales your name, the sound barely louder than the sighing of the wind through the sails. It’s reverent, like a prayer, like something he has held inside for too long. And when he reaches up to brush his fingers along your cheek, there is nothing hurried in the gesture - just a quiet, aching tenderness that makes your heart clench in your chest.

"I love... this world you created, Jewels," he says between soft sounds of pleasure. "I could stay here forever."

The wind shifts, catching the sail, sending the boat rocking slightly, but neither of you move away. Here, on the Aegean, with the salt air thick around you and the warmth of Kastor’s hands steady on your skin, the rest of the world feels impossibly far away.

Kastor's skin is warm beneath your fingertips, still flushed from your shared passion, and the rise and fall of his chest beneath you is slow, steady, peaceful. He turns his head slightly into your touch, sighing when your fingers trace over his cheek, the line of his jaw, the sensitive curve of his ear.

"Then why leave?" he murmurs, his voice still thick with satisfaction, with something softer, more vulnerable. His fingers move in slow, lazy circles against your back, his other hand drifting over your hip, your thigh, as if memorizing the shape of you all over again. "We could stay here - just us, the sea, the sky. No more gods, no more monsters. Just this." He punctuates the words with a slow, lingering kiss against your shoulder, then your collarbone, his lips barely grazing your skin as he breathes you in.

Something shifts in the air between you, a sense of timelessness settling over the boat like a spell, as if his words could make it real. Just for a moment, you allow yourself to believe in it too - that the world beyond the horizon doesn’t matter, that nothing exists beyond the warmth of Kastor’s body beneath yours, the salt breeze whispering through the sails, the lull of the waves against the hull.

It’s only when your fingers drift lower, tracing the place where his wound had been, that you pause. The skin there is smooth, unbroken, as if the deep gash from battle never existed. A spark of energy tingles against your fingertips, the remnants of something old, something powerful.

You lift your head, searching his face, and Kastor only smiles, lazy and knowing. "You healed me," he says simply, his voice full of quiet wonder. "Even without meaning to." His fingers brush a stray lock of hair from your face, his touch reverent. "Maybe we really could stay here forever."

Kastor exhales a long breath, his arms tightening around you for a moment, as if reluctant to let go. His hands stroke idly over your back, tracing the shape of your spine, mapping you like he never wants to forget a single inch. "Yeah," he finally says, his voice quieter now, thoughtful. "I remember the vampires."

His fingers drift up to tangle in your hair as he tilts his head slightly, giving you better access as you kiss along his jaw. He sighs, the sound somewhere between pleasure and resignation. "I remember all of it," he admits. "How much there still is to fight for. How much we can't just... leave behind."

For a moment, he doesn't move, doesn't try to pull away or start shifting the boat back on course. Instead, he watches you, eyes soft and unreadable, like he's memorizing you all over again. "But damn it, Jewels," he murmurs, voice rough, "it feels nice to have a new start, doesn't it? The idea we could write our own story?"

Then, with a low groan, he finally - reluctantly - moves. His hands slide down to your hips, squeezing once before he shifts to sit up, taking you with him. "Alright," he says, something warm and aching in his gaze. "Let's get moving." Even as he reaches for the boat’s rigging, though, he steals one last kiss, deep and lingering, as if trying to take a piece of this place, this moment, with him.