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Corazon leaves Prudence's room and rests his forehead on the wall for several long minutes.
He hadn't really wanted to leave, but Prudence obviously wanted him to. He feels better than he has in his whole life, and he wants to luxuriate in it. Potentially he's not supposed to. Either way, Prudence is in there sleeping it off, and he's just going to have to pull himself back together.
It hasn't been like this every time, but it's so much better when it is.
He manages to push off from the wall; they're on the Joyful Damnation again, so at least he's on familiar territory. He walks unsteadily out to the area of the deck that they use in good weather. Luck is with him, thank god, Egbert and Merilwen nowhere to be seen. He's a little worse for wear this time, and he's more apt to involve Dob than either of them.
"Hey, Dob," Corazon says.
Dob smiles at him. "Hello, Corazon."
"Hi, hey, hello, yes," Corazon says, a little uneven on his feet. "You, uh. You wouldn't happen to have cure wounds on you, would you?"
"Yes," Dob says warily. "What have you done?"
"Me?" Corazon says. "Nothing. But if you did want to cast it. As in now." He makes a beckoning motion. "Hurry it up."
"Corazon, what happened?" Dob asks.
"Knew I should have asked Egbert," Corazon says under his breath, then louder, "Nothing happened, just totally ordinary stuff."
"Did Prudence hurt you?" Dob asks.
"No, what?" Corazon says, pressing a hand to his chest. "Of course not. How we coming with that cure wounds, by the way?"
"Maybe I shouldn't," Dob says.
Corazon sighs deeply. "Patch me up and I'll tell you."
Dob touches his hand, and Corazon groans as the healing magic enters his system. However much he needed was less than what the spell provides, and now he kind of wishes he'd just walked it off.
"Now tell me," Dob says flatly.
"Prudence likes the rough stuff," Corazon grudgingly admits. "Can't be helped."
"Okay, there were multiple issues there," Dob says, after a moment. "You know that, like, most people aren't having sex so rough it causes damage, right? Especially not, if I may make some assumptions, to the person who's giving?"
"I know that," Corazon says irritably.
"And that just because Prudence wants something, you're not required to give it to her, though god knows it's easier?" Dob says.
"It wasn't like that," Corazon protests. "It was a totally good and normal thing that I feel fine about."
Dob gives him a serious look. "Corazon, you're my best friend, and I won't tell anybody if you don't want me to."
Corazon makes a noise of frustration. "Look, fine, Prudence likes it very rough, as in like, there was a knife."
"Oh Corazon-" Dob says.
"And I've never done something like that," Corazon says, because now it's hard to stop, "and I'm freaking out a little bit because of how insanely fucking hot it was."
Dob pulls up short. "That's not how I pictured that sentence ending."
"I came so hard I thought I'd pass out," Corazon says, "but she could have told me I couldn't and I'd have died in sweet agony, kind of a thing."
"Oh," Dob says, his eyebrows all the way up. "Wow."
"Yeah so, I'm not like feeling violated or anything," Corazon says crossing his arms over his chest. "It's more like I've learned some weird things about myself and I'm slightly worried about what it means. Also, I'm annoyed I had to tell you. Also, ow."
"Well, at least you do have access to cure wounds, that's a start, although that's not what they mean by safe sex," Dob says wryly. He sighs. "I want to tell you that you and Prudence should do whatever you want, but- I don't know if I can. I mean, Corazon, she genuinely hurt you."
"Yeah, I know," Corazon says. "It was awesome and I don't understand why."
"This is mean and I'm going to ask it anyway," Dob says after a moment. "Is it just that you're so happy to finally be sleeping with Prudence that you'd let her do anything to your body that she wanted?"
"Who's to say?" Corazon says. "But if it's the same to you, I'm gonna interpret this as me learning something new about myself that would have always been true, not being forced to do something and making myself like it as a defense mechanism."
"That's fair, honestly," Dob says. "There are usually warning signs, though."
"Everybody's been smacked around a little and liked it," Corazon says dismissively.
"Like I said, warning signs," Dob says. "Look, I won't tell, but I want you to tell me that you won't let things get worse."
Corazon shrugs. "I can tell you anything you like."
"I mean it," Dob says. Corazon makes a motion with his hand, like he's cutting at his neck, but Dob doesn't really register it. "I need you to be safe. Prudence can't just-"
Corazon looks around Dob. "Hey, Prudence," he says, too loudly. "We sure were talking about something else."
Prudence looks furious, and she just rolls her eyes and turns to go.
"Prudence Prudence Prudence," Corazon says, grabbing her arm when she tries to walk away. "Lovely Prudence, wonderful Prudence, please don't, please. I'm obscenely into you and I want you to do anything you want to me."
Dob pinches the bridge of his nose. "For the love of La Vache Mauve."
"I got off on it really hard and I'm not telling you that just so you won't leave, please don't go," Corazon says, absolutely not above groveling if it means she'll stay, or really if she just asked him to.
"Fine," Prudence says tightly. She looks daggers at Dob. "What do you want to say?"
"Is there a way to do this without potentially injuring Corazon?" Dob asks.
"I'm not gonna cut anything off of him," Prudence says dismissively.
"Prudence, you hurt him pretty badly," Dob says.
"Which is fine," Corazon says quickly. "Completely alright. We are five by five here."
Prudence glances at him, then addresses Dob. "And what do you want to do about this problem that doesn't exist?"
Dob didn't want it to go this way, but he will. "Where was the aftercare?" he demands. "Why weren't you holding him? What were you going to do if he started feeling like he was going into shock? Did you bother to negotiate beforehand? Did you sterilize your instruments? Did you even give him a safeword?"
"That was a weirdly specific list of questions," Prudence says, after a moment.
"Everybody's always like 'Oh Dob's so naive, Dob doesn't know how to handle himself,'" Dob says, waving his hands. "Well guess what? I've handled more people than the two of you combined."
"Really?" Prudence says.
"That can't be true," Corazon says.
Dob snatches a paper and pencil off a nearby desk. "I'm gonna write a number on this piece of paper, and you think about it."
The number is more than one digit and makes Prudence's eyebrows go up. "Damn." She turns to Corazon, showing him the paper. "You haven't-?"
Corazon gives her a look. "Life gets weird at sea, but not that weird."
"I'm a bard, as much as everybody likes to forget it," Dob says. "I'm incredibly charming, and while you've largely seen my failures, most of the time when I want someone to sleep with me, they do. Nobody's saying I have good taste, but I do have volume."
"So what are you proposing to do?" Prudence asks pointedly.
"Me?" Dob says, alarmed. "Those were just my credentials. I wasn't proposing to get involved."
"Oh, no," Corazon says. "You made this into a problem. If you hadn't put your nose in this, it would have been fine. What do want us to do, ask Egbert?"
Dob frowns. "Does Egbert have a nose?"
Corazon makes a motion to suggest a snout. "Surely his- look, that's not the point."
"You just decided to tell us we were being dangerous and what we were doing was wrong, and you're just walking away without even explaining?" Prudence says.
"Nobody actually told you you were doing anything wrong," Dob says, holding up his hands. "You put that on me yourself. I don't think you're being immoral or anything. It just sounds to me like you're not taking safety into account."
"Then why are you not willing to tell us what safety would mean?" Prudence says.
"I didn't say that," Dob says, frustrated. "You have to stop accusing me of things I didn't say!" He looks around, not finding what he's looking for; instead, he puts his fingers in his mouth and whistles, just two notes but apparently enough.
"Fuck off," Corazon says, though he isn't angry anymore. His shoulders drop, his posture becoming loose, and he sees Prudence doing the same thing. It sucks that it feels so good.
"Can we please have a conversation now, instead of you yelling at me about stuff you made up?" Dob asks, his voice gentle, looking a bit sad.
"Oh, alright, fine," Prudence says, waving a hand. "Take it from the top."
"I don't think you need to tell either of us why it's dangerous," Corazon says.
"I really think I do," Dob says. "The knife slipping is kind of the least of your problems, when you have more than one person in shouting distance who can take care of that. It's my concern that you just kind of did it without talking to each other beforehand, and then you just let Corazon limp away afterwards."
"I didn't let Corazon do anything," Prudence says. "I fell asleep."
"That just really doesn't help your case like you think it does," Dob says.
"We talked," Corazon says. "She said something like, let me use this knife, and I was like, a knife, really? and she was like, oh yeah, totally into the knife, try it for me, and then, you know, there was a knife."
Dob tilts his head back and takes a couple of deep breaths. "I'll give it 60 out of 100."
"That seems low," Prudence says.
"It's only that high because you warned him and he did agree," Dob says. "You needed to ask just so many more things."
"Says who?" Prudence asks, unimpressed.
"Basically everybody," Dob says. "Which isn't a thing I care about a lot of the time? But this time, they're right. You should have asked how far Corazon was willing to go, and what he could say to stop everything, and if there was anything that would have made him upset in any way. Corazon should have asked if you if you were really prepared and how you planned to clean up your mess."
"We could just tack that on the front," Corazon says uncertainly. "Right? Blanket permission?"
"Yeah, of course," Dob says. "Just make sure you're on the same page." He looks to Prudence. "And then at the end, you have to take care of Corazon. That part's quite nice, actually. There's a lot of cuddling."
Prudence looks at Dob, then at Corazon. "Earmuffs."
Corazon is confused, but does put his hands over his ears.
Prudence turns to Dob, leaving Corazon unable to read her lips. "The thought of someone touching me after sex makes my skin crawl," she says.
"Oh, huh," Dob says, surprised. "Could you elaborate, maybe?"
"Cuddling is gross," Prudence says distastefully. "We're both all sweaty and sticky. I hate how it feels. I want to be out of bed, straight into the bath, so I can put myself back together in peace. I don't want to be sweet and kind."
"That's a bit of an issue," Dob admits.
"You're asking me to choose Corazon's wellbeing at the expense of my own," Prudence says, and for Prudence, she looks stricken. "If that has to be true, then I can't do it."
"Well, hold on, I'm sure we can work something out," Dob says. "You're not the only one who feels that way. Some people make arrangements in advance, or they get another person to assist with aftercare, or-"
"So that's your angle," Prudence says, looking him up and down.
Dob frowns. "What's my angle?"
"Oh, some people get a third, I dunno who that would be," Corazon says mockingly, even though he's still got his hands over his ears.
"Could I please not be accused of everything I have been accused of today?" Dob says, frustrated. "I might have said yes, but you're both being very rude to me. I thought the two of you at least liked me as a person."
Prudence is the one who folds, which is maybe not a surprise. "Hey, don't be like that," she says, taking his arm. "Of course we like you. We're just very cruel people."
Dob looks at both of them. "What would you want to give me in return?" he asks. "You're not acting like this because you don't want me to do it."
"Back up," Corazon says. "What would you be doing, exactly?"
"She could tear you up, and then she'll take five," Dob says, looking to Prudence for confirmation, and she nods. "Then I could look after you."
"I will be naked, and potentially covered in blood," Corazon points out.
"That's what prestidigitation is for," Dob says. "I don't know where you got the impression that I'm afraid of what's going on here. I just don't want to see anybody get harmed."
"I guess it's kinda up to Corazon what you get," Prudence says.
"Why me?" Corazon says.
"Because I won't be there," Prudence says. "I don't, like- I mean I don't have some kind of claim to you, where I get to approve what you do."
"Oh, right," Corazon says, like he's a little confused by it. He looks at Dob. "So, what's your price?" Dob doesn't say anything, just frowns. "Okay, do you really not know or are you trying not to say you wanna fuck me? Because I already knew that."
Dob narrows his eyes. "How did you know that?"
"It amazes me that you think that's a secret," Prudence says. "You'd jump into bed with any or all of us if you were offered the chance."
"That's not very fair, but it is true," Dob says.
"Called it," Corazon says smugly. "So, like, you'd take over from Prudence and take care of me, and somewhere in there, sex."
"If that seems okay to you," Dob says.
"Works for me," Corazon says. "If you're fully aware that I'm just gonna lie there and let you have what you want."
"I could be fine with that," Dob says.
"There's a problem here," Prudence says.
"What?" Corazon asks.
"I'm spent," Prudence says, indicating herself. "It's like two or three days before I'm gonna feel up to doing that again."
"That's fine," Corazon says. "It was great, but I'm only human."
"Just because there's planning doesn't mean it has to be today," Dob says.
"Seems awfully premeditated," Prudence says doubtfully.
Dob looks at her in confusion. "Yeah."
"Just feels weird," Prudence says, shrugging.
"Corazon, earmuffs," Dob says.
"What the hell?" Corazon says, putting his hands over his ears.
"Surely you are not concerned by the implication that you want to rip Corazon up," Dob says. "You love being cruel. It's not like being cruel on a schedule makes you any worse."
Prudence sighs. "Look, I don't know how to explain it." She frowns. "How do you know all this, anyway? Don't say you've slept with a lot of people. That's not the same thing."
"Oh," Dob says. "Well, um-"
"Little too late, big guy," Corazon says, dropping his hands.
"It's just something I like doing," Dob says vaguely.
"So you like being on top and everything?" Prudence says.
"I don't mind which," Dob says. "It's an honor just to be nominated." He's aware he's just been rooked, but he doesn't know how to redirect the conversation.
"Then you wouldn't care if, like, Prudence was on top and you weren't?" Corazon asks.
"Well that doesn't feel very hypothetical," Dob says, "but I don't think we'd find much in common."
"Wild," Corazon says, not quite able to fathom it.
"Anyway, I think maybe the two of you should talk, then come to me," Dob says.
"You're the ringer," Prudence says.
"I am?" Dob says.
"Yeah, like, you come in at the last second to take it over the line," Prudence says. "This is basic cheating strategy, you should know this."
"Whatever you like," Dob says, because truly, it's easier.
It's later in the evening before Prudence and Corazon get around to talking, there having been an issue that required Corazon at the wheel. Now they're in the captain's quarters. Corazon has his feet kicked up on the map table, and he passes Prudence a glass of brandy he's just warmed over a candle, which is not technically necessary but makes him look smooth as hell. Night has already fallen, and it's very atmospheric; quiet, intimate, maybe.
"Is this okay?" Corazon asks, his own brandy cupped in his hands.
"Is what okay?" Prudence says.
Corazon doesn't dignify that with an answer. "This feels different. If you don't want to make it complicated, we'll do something else."
"I'm not gonna stop wanting it," Prudence says reluctantly. "Maybe Dob is right. Maybe it is dangerous. I don't want to give it up." She shuffles uncomfortably. "Look, there's a line."
"Okay," Corazon says slowly, because he kinda feels, from his end, like there isn't.
Prudence sips her brandy before speaking, frowning the whole time. "The whole planning ahead thing is weird," she says. "I know I'm super evil and everything, but making an appointment to be cruel is just strange. I don't like what it says about me." She looks frustrated with herself. "I like laying plots as much as the next warlock. But I don't like feeling like I'm plotting against you when I'm trying to be nice."
"Surely you could just set a window," Corazon says. He gesticulates with his snifter. "Like, please be available to get wrecked on Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday between the hours of six and eleven PM. Would that feel better?"
"So, like, make some rules and then strike when the spirit moves me?" Prudence says contemplatively.
"Yeah, why not," Corazon says. "If I didn't want on the day, all I'd have to do is use a safeword."
"Okay, did you know that was a real thing before now?" Prudence asks, her voice lowered. "I thought it was just a thing people joked about."
"Have I heard of it? Yes," Corazon says. "Have I ever had one? No. I don't want one, but I feel like Dob would slap me in the face if I said that."
"Hey, that's my job," Prudence says, smiling tentatively. "And he wouldn't. He'd just look at you in concern."
"I would rather be slapped in the face," Corazon says. "At least I could duck." He shrugs. "We could just talk, and it doesn't have to be a big thing. You don't have to write a script. Maybe just stuff like 'I don't like leather straps' or whatever."
"Do you not like leather straps?" Prudence says, frowning; it doesn't seem like it's come up before, but it might.
"No," Corazon says firmly. "You probably don't know what a shaving strop is, but you don't need to learn."
"I don't really grow body hair," Prudence says, shrugging.
"Yeah, I know," Corazon says, and she socks him in the arm. "See? Easy stuff."
"It is the worst when you call me ma'am," Prudence blurts.
Corazon is surprised. "Really?"
"Totally hate it," Prudence says. "I thought you'd figured that out."
He eyes her. "Prudence, I'm deliberately trying to get you to hurt me. You slapping me when I said it was the desired result."
"Definitely don't do it like that," she says. "None of that milady nonsense either."
"I only said that to get a rise out of you," he says.
"It does work when you bait me, but it's hotter when you beg," she says.
"That can be arranged," he says, without reservation. "C'mon. Tell me more."
And then it's three weeks later. They have more sex than just weird sex, but their sort of arrangement to have an arrangement thing has been invoked, more than once. It turns out adding Dob just isn't very strange, not in context, anyway. Corazon can't complain, though he does anyway.
On this particular evening, Corazon is playing cards with Egbert and Merilwen, for stakes that mostly include chores that nobody wants to do; Dob is quietly reading a book, or at least looking at the woodcuts. Prudence walks in, not having been seen since dinner; she has this way of carrying herself differently. She really doesn't have to say anything at all, could have settled for the slightest inclination of her head or a flash of her eyes, but of course she comes right up to him.
Prudence bends down to speak into his ear, and Corazon tilts his head to listen. "You can either get in my bed, or you can let everybody watch while I drag you there," she says, too quiet for anyone else to hear.
Corazon could play it off; it feels uncomfortable in a way that makes him squirm, horribly exposed despite the fact that it probably just looks like Prudence wants to get laid, a thing everyone is clear she's getting from Corazon. He knows Egbert and Merilwen are rolling their eyes at each other, and he could make that worse, but he can't make it better.
"I fold," Corazon says, standing up immediately and following Prudence, because his need to jump to her tune far outweighs the embarrassment of everybody knowing he is.
"Surely there's more subtle methods," Merilwen says, picking up the cards, and Egbert doesn't notice that she didn't show her hand first.
Dob, on the other side of the room, waits a few minutes, then follows them. Merilwen and Egbert don't put those two events together, which is fine. Explaining all that will be very interesting.
Corazon follows her to her room; the door is latched with a hook and eye but not actually locked, so it can be opened with just a shim. It's possible Dob has one on him, but Corazon is really not thinking about safety right now.
Prudence likes to watch him strip for her; it's not much of a performance, but nobody's really interested in that. Corazon isn't the kind of person who's ashamed to be seen naked, because he knows he looks good. He wants more than anything to be what she wants to see, but he's got nothing to worry about or hide.
She comes over, looking at him, the difference in their height just enough that he has to look up at her. He doesn't flinch away, not even when she grabs him by the throat, not choking but the difference negligible.
"I'm gonna ruin you," she tells him, smiling.
"I really don't think you are," he says, because he might feel debased and wrung out at the end, but he also feels like he's perfect.
"Is that a challenge?" she asks.
"You don't need one," he says, and she shoves him backwards.
"You know where you belong," she says. "Hop to it, I haven't got all night."
If she hasn't shoved him to his knees, where he belongs is in her bed, face up. He's already starting to feel good, like he's loosening, unfolding. He rests his head on his hand, watching as she gets undressed. She's so gorgeous, and there isn't anything for it but to stare raptly, waiting for her to touch him.
Prudence isn't in a mood to draw it out, and she climbs on top of him, gloriously naked, staring down at him like he's a particularly delicious treat.
"Stay," she says, putting a hand on his chest and holding him down for a moment. That's all he needs, because being restrained does nothing for him; he thought for sure it would, but he finds the sensation uninteresting. Turns out Prudence doesn't care one way or the other, so they abandoned that part early on. Prudence likes it much better if he'll stay put, take everything she wants to give him. There's no real surrender when you're tied up, not for Corazon, anyway. It's so much worse to have to actively let things be done to you.
She runs her hands down his chest, studying him. He doesn't like it when they're not face to face; he can bear it for a little while, but he can't handle staying like that, not being able to see her. He feels lost when he can't see her face, can't prove that she's the one he's debasing himself for. When he told her, she called him a nerd, but he thinks, deep down, she was touched.
She just moves her hands over him, then all of a sudden she curls her fingers inwards. He hisses at the feeling of her nails biting into his skin; at this point he thinks she might only be keeping them long so she can do this to him. He's thankful for the gesture, really, because it's very good, how it feels when she tears at him with her own claws.
She bends down, kissing his neck, sucking a mark that will definitely be visible above the line of his shirt. It's tacky, probably, but more than anything he wants to point and say, "She's the one who did that to me, her, the hot scowling one with the horns, look how lucky I am."
"Tell me," Prudence says, and her teeth flash white. She looks demonic, truly evil, and Corazon is so incredibly weak against it that he doesn't know how he handles it the rest of the time.
"Do anything you want," Corazon says breathily. "Take me, please."
She grins, going up onto her knees so she can take his cock. He groans, his eyes all but rolling back in his head. He's losing his grip on everything except how much he wants it, and he has no idea why he'd want to keep it.
"Good little Corazon," she says, mocking. "So very sweet."
"If that's what you want," he manages to say.
"We'll see," Prudence says, and she extends her hand, the blade sliding out gracefully like an extension of her arm.
Prudence's favorite knife is a switchblade, and Corazon is developing a reaction to the sound, the clean snick of it. It's still kind of bizarre that any of this is happening, but he wants it to, so much more than he ever bargained for. It might be easier if he was afraid of her and got off on that, but he's not afraid at all. He doesn't have to be, doesn't even have to put up that layer of remove. He can offer himself up the way that earnest sacrifices do, open and yearning, everything stripped back.
She scratches just the very tip of the knife down the center of his chest, and he's left to imagine the red mark it's making on his skin. She likes it, her hips starting to move, and right now that's good enough, anything is good enough if she says it is.
She runs the knife along the edge of one of his tattoos; she's fascinated by them. When he got them done, it had been weird that he kind of liked how it felt, or at least the headiness a session left behind. It's much less weird now, with context. All of that pain seems like a prologue when Prudence presses in just so, enough to raise a drop of blood and nothing more.
"There's nothing I can't do to you that you wouldn't thank me for," Prudence says, rocking her hips.
"That's not true," Corazon says.
"Oh?" she says, her eyes bright. "What would be so terrible that you'd balk?"
"You could stop," he says.
Alone in the hallway, Dob can hear the noise of the bed moving, the way Prudence's laugh rings out. He doesn't really want to see Corazon like that. It's not a loss of respect thing; it just touches something protective in him, which isn't welcome right now. He wants to run in and be the hero, deliver Corazon from harm. Nobody said he could do that, and he'd be ruining everybody's good time. It is miraculous that he finally learned that that's a problem, but he has.
It's a good thing, because the last thing Corazon wants is to be interrupted.
Prudence mostly doesn't use the knife for cutting. She holds it to his skin, threatening, promising, and if he cuts himself on it, that's just what happens. It lights up the part of him that craves danger, a reckless, soaring feeling where he absolutely does his best work. Right now she's holding the blade to his throat. She's nicked him, he can feel it, and he's so turned on that he might explode. He's going to let her do everything she wants, use him however she decides. She might kill him and it seems fine. If she straight up assassinated him right this instant, he'd die and not even feel bad about it.
It's never been like this, ever. He doesn't and can't know whether it's just that he's actually in love with her, unlike a lot of people he's slept with, but that can't be all. He's never felt better in his entire life, and he'd do anything to keep doing it.
Prudence is riding him, her free hand braced on his shoulder. Corazon wouldn't let anyone else do this to him; this is the point where the fight or flight would kick in, where he'd disarm her, roll out of the way, go for his cutlass. He doesn't, and he doesn't want to. He puts his hands on her hips, not wanting to give her a chance to fall, wanting to keep her right where she is.
"Is this how you like it?" she asks. "The big scary tiefling taking advantage of you?"
"For you, anything," he says, with utmost faith.
Prudence drops the knife somewhere out of the way and falls on him, kissing him roughly. She breaks off to suck on his shoulder, no teeth just in case; Corazon now thinks Prudence making him like her would be the hottest thing that ever happened, but clearheaded Corazon knows it isn't. It still hurts, and there's no problem with that at all.
She's falling to pieces, riding him hard; he knows he should probably be desperate to come right now, but something about it feels distant. It's fine if he has to wait, because doing this is so satisfying, the only thing that really matters. He's just a thing that she's using, a toy to be chewed up. If it's making her happy, then he'll do it, for as long as she wants.
"Please," he says, feeling punchdrunk, entirely taken. "Do whatever you want to me. I want you to."
Prudence comes, her fingernails digging into his shoulder. She looks down at him and her eyes are dark, wicked; she pants, staring at him like she can see through him. He nods, not even sure what he's saying, other than yes.
She finally comes to a stop, and he rests his hands on her thighs, looking up at her. She's the most gorgeous thing ever invented, and the fact she's chosen to focus her energy on him is a blessing.
"Good boy," Prudence says breathlessly, putting her thumb on Corazon's bottom lip, and he sucks it into his mouth. Next time she's going to ride his face, and he'll let her, like he always does.
Something in her head that she still doesn't understand ticks over, and suddenly the thought of touching him for another instant seems untenable. She doesn't want to leave him and has to, spooled out and needing to be wound up again, too open to be left uncovered.
"See you in a bit," she says, climbing off of him, and Corazon can't really bring himself to do anything but give her a weak thumbs up.
Prudence sticks her head out of the door. "All yours," she tells Dob.
Dob gets up, going immediately. Prudence slips out, and he's left with Corazon. Corazon is in a heap, practically insensate, and Dob picks him up and carries him out. It feels weird to stay, nicer if there's a separation, so he takes Corazon back to his room and lays him out on the bed.
"How are you doing?" Dob asks.
Corazon lets out a satisfied, exhausted groan.
"Still flying, huh," Dob says, stroking his hair. He rubs his fingers together, magic appearing at the tips of them; he sweeps his hand over Corazon's body, and any blood and sweat disappears. He's got some cuts, not many, quite shallow, with some scratches here and there. Dob presses his hand to Corazon's arm, and they heal up and disappear. It doesn't do anything for the hickeys, but Dob didn't think it would. He also doesn't think Corazon will mind. Everybody's got a right to wear their trophies.
Corazon sighs. He looks up at Dob, and he looks hazy, untroubled. "Kiss me," he says, not quite a question and not quite a command, but either way, Dob bends down and does it. Corazon is clingy like this, and he doesn't stop himself, his hands wandering. "C'mon, Dob, fuck me."
If they hadn't already negotiated, Dob would almost certainly say no; Corazon sounds almost drunk. But Dob did already commit and everything. It'd be a dereliction of his duty not to go through with it.
The fact that Corazon is ridiculously hot like this is unrelated.
"Alright, alright, I suppose I will," Dob says. He's got something suitable for the occasion, and he gets both of them slick, not really belaboring the point.
"Do it," Corazon says. "Hurry up."
"I don't know how you can be so pushy," Dob says, but he curls up behind Corazon and presses into him. Corazon groans, not resisting at all, taking him in easily.
It's strange, seeing Corazon like this, quiet and yielding, or as much as Corazon ever gets. Maybe it looks like Dob is trying to get one over on him, take out some aggression, but Dob doesn't really think so. Dob always likes Corazon; he's just easier to like this way. It smooths off some of his edges, takes away the sharpness. Dob couldn't handle him like this all the time, but being able to hold Corazon close is very nice, appeals to the part of him that wants to comfort someone.
The door opens, and Dob freezes in place; it's no more or less damning than trying to move, because it's not like he could hide what they're doing. It's Prudence, who's wearing her dressing gown and apparently little else, her hair wet where it hangs around her face. Dob doesn't really know what to do in this situation. Prudence thinks she doesn't have any claim over Corazon, but she's literally the only person who thinks that. Everybody else, Corazon included, knows she's got every right in the world.
"Don't stop on my account," Prudence says, sitting down in a chair and crossing her legs; her dressing gown rides up to mid-thigh, and Dob can't look away for a moment.
"Right, yes," Dob says, quite literally thrown off his rhythm.
"Not feeling a lot of movement," Corazon says, though it's kind of fuzzy.
Dob rolls his eyes and gets back to work. It isn't just sex; he needs to know that Corazon is okay, that he isn't panicking or sad. He'll check in tomorrow, though Corazon hasn't dropped yet to his knowledge. Right now, it's enough to hold Corazon against him, wrapped up in his arms.
"I think I want in on this part next time," Prudence says. "Not the care part. The watching you fuck Corazon part."
"I think you're in on it now," Dob says.
"Well, you're not wrong," Prudence says.
"Not that anyone's asking you to leave," Dob adds quickly.
"I don't think Corazon could," Prudence says.
"The poor man needs his rest," Dob says.
Prudence manages to look both fond and cruel at the same time, which you maybe have to be a warlock to do. "That'd be more convincing if you weren't nine inches deep."
"It's really more like eight," Dob says.
Prudence snorts. "You keep telling yourself that."
Dob doesn't exactly know how to rebut that statement right this second, so he doesn't worry about it. He's got other stuff to focus on. Prudence watches them, interested but detached, like it's fascinating that it's happening but not hugely erotic. She's so odd sometimes, but today isn't the day to solve that particular riddle.
Corazon is getting closer, and Dob wraps his hand around Corazon's cock, stroking it as he moves. He kisses Corazon's hair, the difference in their height marked when they're this close. Corazon seems small, not in a bad way but one that makes Dob want to protect him. Maybe he's the angel to Prudence's demon, but neither of them seem interested in getting Corazon to follow the straight and narrow.
Corazon groans, and Dob moves his hand faster, wanting Corazon to fall apart for him. It doesn't take much before Corazon is tightening around him, and Dob doesn't try to drag it out. He pulls Corazon close to him, as close as it's possible to get, and he lets go, coming pressed deep inside.
Dob makes liberal use of prestidigitation and then lays Corazon out on the bed, a thoroughly satisfied lump. Corazon passes out after that, as is his right. He's so out of it that he doesn't rouse when Prudence joins them on the bed, even though she's stroking his hair, his head pillowed on her thigh. His sleep is deep and untroubled, and he barely even moves.
"It's way too late to ask, but," Dob says, in the quiet, where it's okay to ask things, "do you hate Corazon?"
"What?" Prudence says, shocked. "No, of course I don't."
"I just had to make sure you weren't doing this as some kind of punishment," Dob says. "I should have asked at the start, but I didn't."
Prudence looks hesitant, unsure; it looks odd on her features. "Can I tell you something? You can't tell a soul, not even Merilwen."
"Yes, of course," Dob says.
"I love Corazon more than anybody I've ever loved in my life," Prudence says, like she's apologizing for it. "If I didn't think he could handle anything I threw at him, he wouldn't be worth my time."
"Why do you act like you don't own him?" Dob asks, which is a cruel question that maybe somebody had to ask.
"I don't think he feels like that," Prudence says, brushing Corazon's hair away from his face.
"Why on earth would you think he didn't?" Dob says, looking at her like she's got two heads.
Prudence gives him an uncertain look. "Do you reckon?"
"Yeah," Dob says. "The phrase low-hanging fruit comes to mind." He looks at her seriously. "Prudence, he's not kidding. He takes everything seriously, even though he says he doesn't. He takes you seriously. I know I just had sex with him, but everybody knows he belongs to you."
"I'll think about it," Prudence says, her thumb running along Corazon's cheekbone. He looks so peaceful, more than he ever does any other time. He makes a noise in his sleep, and she draws her hand back.
He opens his eyes, looking up at her. "Hey," he says, sleepy, a little hoarse. "When'd you get here?"
She knows without a shadow of a doubt that Dob is right, and Prudence doesn't understand why she wants him to be. "Couldn't keep me away for long," she says, and she kisses his forehead.
Dob nudges her with his shoulder, a friendly gesture.
"You are," she says to him, even though it doesn't follow anything, and she turns her attention back to carding her fingers through Corazon's hair.
--
Merilwen has her eighth shitty hand of cards running.
She's eying Egbert, who looks perfectly content and who has managed to get rid of pieces of paper reading clean the galley - one night, mend torne sail (3x knive holes!!!), and bilge >:(. This is in no way going her direction, and he's still holding a piece of paper in Corazon's handwriting that just says hull on it.
"Hey, Egbert," she says.
"Oh no," Egbert says. "I know that voice. This has been an honest competition. You can tap out if you want, but I have observed the rules completely." He pauses. "The ones I remember, anyway."
"Yeah, but, hey," she says. "I've got a proposition for you." She leans towards him. "You agree to let me win, and I'll do that thing you like."
He puts a hand to his chest. "Right here?"
"Why not?" she says. "C'mon. Nobody here but us chickens."
He tries to hold his ground, but his resolve fails. "Okay, fine," he says, laying down his cards.
"Knew you'd see it my way," Merilwen says, and she comes over and sits next to him on the bench. He's not wearing his armor, just a loose tunic. "You need it bad, don't you?"
"Yes," he says, and he groans when Merilwen starts scratching his neck. He only just finished molting, and there's little patches of scale all stuck everywhere, making him itch. It's a cruel irony that his claws are really not good for taking them off.
"I should have done this much sooner," she says, plucking a huge intact piece off of one of the bigger scales that run down his head and spine.
"I'll take now," Egbert says, sighing as she rubs her hands hard against his skin.
Joke's on him, because she'd have done it for free. She can't explain why it's so weirdly satisfying, but it definitely is.