Standard disclaimers: this is a work of fiction. These characters don't belong to me, they belong to Volks. Don't sue me, I'm poor, I just love Cecile and Reisner (and Williams, and Sylvie, and...) very much. ^^
The story itself, however, belongs to me. Don't post, steal, or do anything nasty to it. If you want to post this story somewhere, please ask me first. I'll most likely say yes, but I'd like to know.
This story contains yaoi; that's m/m love and sex. If that offends you, go read something else and stop wasting my time. ^_^ This story also contains incest, which may be a squick for you, so please stop if it is.
Any comments or constructive criticism are most appreciated! Just email me at cassiel@crysania.com
Note: This fic is based off the character backstories created for several of Volks' Super Dollfies; most particularly, those involved in the story arc called "Oath of the Silver Coin". If you're unfamiliar, please read the story info for: Cecile the Scarface 1, Cecile the Scarface 2, Reisner, Williams, Cyndy, and Lady Sylvie.
by Cassiel Kelner
As Reisner stepped away from the gangway and started to move off down the pier, a hand grabbed him by the arm. He pulled free and whirled around in the same movement, his hand reaching for his sword at once. Then he saw his opponent and stopped, gawking.
A young lady stood before him, so short she barely reached his shoulders. But unlike every woman he'd ever seen in his life, this one was wearing a man's shirt, and men's pants. Her hair was tied back in a utilitarian ponytail, and -- wonder of wonders -- a sword was strapped to her waist.
Reisner was aware that he was staring, but he couldn't stop himself. He'd never seen a woman in men's clothing, never even imagined that one would want to dress that way. There was something almost indecent about it. And yet, she seemed perfectly comfortable in the clothes. As he continued to stare, she folded her arms and arched an eyebrow at him.
"What?" she demanded, and he snapped his mouth shut. Men's clothing or no, she was a woman, and she deserved better manners than he was currently showing.
"Nothing," he said, a little too quickly. "Was it you who grabbed my arm?"
"Yes," she pursed her lips, looking him up and down, as if sizing him up. He wondered what she was thinking. He couldn't possibly imagine what she wanted, but it was obvious there was nothing ordinary about this girl.
"What can I do for you, then?" he asked.
She opened her mouth, closed it again. Then she took a deep breath and drew herself up to her full height, which still was not quite enough to bring her even with his shoulders.
"Would you let a woman join your crew if she was as capable as a man?"
Reisner forgot all about his manners and gawked at her again, his mind suddenly blank; he could not possibly fathom a reply to her question. She narrowed her eyes, and her hand strayed to the hilt of the sword strapped to her waist.
"I don't wear this for show," she said, and there was real menace in her voice.
"Who the hell are you?" Reisner managed, at last, discarding manners completely. The girl snorted, and then her expression relaxed somewhat, her lips twisting into a smirk.
"You're right, maybe explaining would be helpful." She held out her hand to him, as a man would, to shake, and acting automatically, he reached out and shook it. She grinned suddenly.
"See, you can treat me like a man if you don't think about it."
He blinked at her, and then shook his head slowly. He still had no idea what was going on, or what to think of this crazy girl. But he was curious. Very curious.
"You were going to explain...?"
She pulled a face. "Fine. I... my name is Sylvie." She glanced up at him, hesitating, then shrugged and looked away. "My father is a blacksmith; he deals mostly in weapons. All of his sons, my brothers, died when I was still young." Her gaze became distant. "So he brought me up in their place."
"As a boy?"
"As an equal." Her gaze returned to his, defiant. "He taught me to work, and he taught me to fight. He taught me to be strong, and to think and act for myself. And that's how I have grown up."
Reisner considered her words, considered her. She was small and scrawny like a teenage boy, but there was a strength to her, and he was willing to bet that she could be light, fast on her feet. He wondered, then, what she would be like to fight.
Then he shook his head.
"But what does that have to do with joining our crew?"
Sylvie folded her arms across her chest, and her expression turned black.
"Now that I am of age, my father dismisses all he has taught me and thinks only of marrying me off."
Reisner blinked at her, unable to imagine this spitfire creature as a bride. She confirmed his thoughts with her next words.
"I will not consent to be some fool's lapdog and servant, to spend my days meek and subservient, confined to a kitchen or a sitting room." She glared at him, as if he had suggested otherwise.
"And you think running away with us is going to help?" he raised his eyebrows at her, and she shrugged.
"I could marry a member of your crew. Any one of them ought to be enough of a husband to placate my father."
Reisner smirked and decided to let the implied insult slide. "And what then?"
"I can work as well as any man. I have sailed on ships before. I can do whatever is required of me."
Reisner looked her over again. There was true determination in her eyes. He wondered if she was as strong as she thought. He wondered what the crew would do if he brought a woman on board; not as recreation, but as a member of the crew. But most of all, he wondered what Cecile would think. Wondered if Cecile wouldn't be awed by the sheer audacity of it.
But instead of voicing his thoughts, he said,
"We're not just your average sailing vessel, you know." It was one thing for a girl to join a regular ship. It was another for her to join a band of pirates.
Sylvie gave him a withering look, as if he was a child, and not a very bright child at that.
"I know what you are."
"Oh?" He smirked at her, and she rolled her eyes at him in response.
"Of course. Who else could I possibly expect to take me seriously, to be brave enough to treat me with equality, except those men who have already chosen to reject the rest of the trappings that society attempts to place on them?"
That was the first time that he realised that Sylvie was every bit as smart as him, every bit as smart as Cecile, and probably smarter than half the crew.
And knowing that, he knew what Cecile would do.
He reached for the hilt of his sword.
"Then prove to me that I can presume to treat you with equality," he said, sliding it free from its sheath.
Her eyes seemed to light up then, with excitement, with anticipation, and her sword was loose of its trappings but a moment later.
Reisner assumed a fighting stance, for a moment just sizing her up. Her sword grip was good and strong, her stance defensive. He feinted to her left, and found the movement smoothly parried. A feint to the right, and she parried again.
He found himself smiling all of a sudden.
He came at her with real force, and found himself deflected to the right. Her blade bounced his off, and then swung about and came at him, and he hurried to raise his own in defense. The 'clang' of sword hitting sword rang in his ears, and he spun about to change his angle of attack, to come at her again, only to find her ready and waiting to counter his move.
She was good; she had not lied about the training she'd received. Though she was lightweight and had not the brute strength that he could bring to bear, she was lightning fast on her feet, and knew how to use this to her advantage.
At first, Reisner was only toying with her, but all too soon, he was fighting with earnest, determined to place a real blow on her. He was no longer fighting just to test her. He was fighting to win. Their swords met and bounced apart again, ringing with each strike, and their bodies moved in time, back and forth along the pier, whirling and striking and dancing away again.
And frustrated as he was that he could not lay even a single strike on her, Reisner could not stop grinning.
Their swords clashed again, and then abruptly, a third sword lashed out between them, separating their swords and sending them both staggering backwards.
"Enough!!" The roar was Cecile's.
Reisner caught his balance, and lowered his sword. He'd been so intent on the fight with Sylvie that he had not noticed the crowd that had gathered to watch them, had not noticed his Captain approaching from the Black Shark.
Reisner looked at Cecile. His brother's expression was part confusion, part anger, and the single blue eye met his for only a moment before moving to look at Sylvie.
Reisner looked at Sylvie. She was sweating freely, her chest was heaving, and her knuckles were white where she gripped the sword, but her eyes as they met his were dancing, and her expression said she was having the time of her life. And in that moment, he felt like he understood her, all at once.
"Reisner." Cecile was looking at him again, and the confusion had the upper hand of his expression now. "What the hell is going on?"
Reisner made up his mind then and there, and he found himself grinning stupidly at his brother.
"Captain, I believe I've just decided to get married."
The look on Cecile's face was more than worth it.
It was a whirlwind marriage, arranged and executed in two days, and Reisner let Sylvie handle all of it. If he was fully honest with himself, he didn't really know what he was doing; but he was sure that making her a part of their crew was the right thing to do. A wild spirit like hers deserved better than to be married off to some fool who would waste all that she had to offer, and a sword arm as good as hers deserved to be fighting in defense of the Black Shark and its Captain.
He knew Cecile wanted to be gone from this port within three days, and when he impressed that upon Sylvie, she promised that they could be married in two, and further, that she could be packed and aboard the ship within hours of the ceremony's finish.
"Your father won't object to me whisking you away immediately?" he had asked, and Sylvie had snorted, an incredibly unladylike gesture that nonetheless did not seem strange coming from her.
"He just wants me married so that he's done the right thing. After that, my husband can do whatever the hell he wants with me."
So she arranged the wedding while he went about his usual business of overseeing the restocking of the ship's supplies.
He made his usual updates to Cecile, as he always did, and although his brother was treating him exactly the same as usual -- talking, planning, and occasionally even joking in the same manner -- it was not the same. Cecile refused to even touch upon the topic of his impending marriage, and Reisner somehow felt as though Cecile had built an invisible brick wall between them. As though his sudden announcement had made Cecile decide to close off completely from him.
It took him awhile to come to this realisation, but when he did, the idea of it sickened him so thoroughly that he may well have cancelled the entire thing if there'd actually been time in which to do so. He wanted Sylvie to be a part of their crew, and he was willing to marry her in order to make it so, but not at the cost of the closeness he shared with his brother.
But before he could make any sort of decision, the time for the wedding had come about. And it was Cecile who hustled Reisner off to the nearby church, and who sat quietly amidst the otherwise almost completely empty pews as the minister muttered words over them.
The words spoke of love, and devotion, of loyalty, and obedience, of a myriad of things that Reisner did not even remotely feel. And he doubted that Sylvie felt any of them either; or at least, he hoped she did not, because he did not know how to return them. As the minister said the closing words of the ceremony, and joined their hands together, Reisner looked over at Sylvie, smiling so happily at him, and wondered if he wasn't in over his head.
But it was too late to be wondering that by then. Sylvie was embracing him, and he returned the gesture awkwardly. She stood on tiptoe to whisper in his ear that he should go back to the ship, and that she would be there with her belongings in just a few hours. Then she was gone before he could reply, her father in tow, and he was alone again with Cecile.
He looked beseechingly at his brother. Cecile smirked and shook his head.
"It was your bright idea; you deal with it." He turned and stalked out of the church.
By the time Sylvie returned to the Black Shark, evening was nigh; the sun had sunk into the ocean behind the ship, disappearing in a glittering golden spread of water, and the sky was streaked in menacing shades of purple and grey, quickly darkening. Reisner had been starting to wonder if perhaps her father had changed his mind and forbade her to leave after all, and a part of him had almost hoped it was true.
Nonetheless, he stayed on deck, at the railing, watching the pier for her, and when at last she appeared, he was both relieved and disappointed all at once. She was dressed in men's clothes again, the sword once more strapped to her waist, and she carried only two small suitcases.
His experience with women was admittedly limited, but Reisner was pretty sure that two small suitcases was barely enough space for most women to pack what they needed for a trip of a single night. But then again, Sylvie was not most women, which was the whole point, was it not?
He met her at the top of the gangway, taking one of the suitcases from her before she could protest.
"Are you sure you have everything?" he asked, and she nodded.
"I don't need much to get by. Not really."
"And you're absolutely sure you're ready to leave this place?"
She looked over her shoulder, back towards town, and then shrugged and looked up at him again, smiling.
"I've never been readier."
He looked down at her. There was fear in her eyes, and he couldn't blame her for that; she was leaving the only home she knew, the only people she knew, to sail off with a ship full of pirates that she knew nothing about. But there was excitement in her eyes, too. Whatever might befall her, good or bad, she was prepared to face it head on. He liked that about her.
He smiled back at her. "Let's get you settled in, then." He turned and led the way towards the lower decks.
He'd had ample time while waiting for her to realise that they'd made no allowances for the fact that a woman was about to join their crew, and after a lot of panicking and cursing himself for being an idiot, he'd eventually come to conclusion that he would give her his cabin. As first mate, it was the next biggest cabin after Cecile's, and would be more than enough room for her. Then he could just bunk in with Cecile, or whoever else was willing to take him.
He'd also had enough time to realise that since they were now technically married, he was probably well within his rights to share the cabin with her. But the thought terrified him. Oh, he liked the girl well enough, but he barely knew her. The ring that now graced his finger did not magically give him the right to share living space with her. Or sleeping space. It was the idea of shared sleeping quarters that bothered him the most.
It was only now, as he led the way towards his cabin, that it occurred to him that there was a chance that she might expect them to be sharing quarters, and the thought was enough to make his step falter. He wondered yet again what on earth had possessed him to decide that getting married was a good idea.
As they reached the bottom of the narrow stairs that led into the bowels of the ship, he heard footsteps in the hall up ahead. The passageways were as narrow as the stairs, and he automatically moved to one side to get out of the way of whoever approached.
Cecile appeared from out of the gloom of the passageway. As he spotted them, he stopped, and his eye slid across Reisner's face, down to the suitcase in his hand, and then moved to Sylvie, standing against the wall behind him.
Feeling awkward, realising they had not really been properly introduced yet, Reisner opened his mouth to do so. Cecile's eye moved back to his, and he saw anger burning deep within it, anger directed at him, and the words stuck in his throat. Then Cecile was pushing past both of them, and the sounds of his angry footsteps up the stairs were like gunshots, hard and quick and explosive.
Reisner stood frozen to the spot. His worst fears were realised; bringing Sylvie on board the ship was going to ruin what he had with Cecile. His brother resented the choice he had made... and Cecile was the type who held a grudge. He was going to lose the only thing that he had lived for, all these years.
"That was the Captain, right?" Sylvie's soft voice intruded upon his whirlwinding thoughts, and after a moment he managed to nod his head.
"Are you and he.. related? You look.. a bit similar."
Reisner swallowed several times, and found his voice, finally.
"He's my brother."
"Do you get along okay?" She sounded unsure, and he wondered at how Cecile must have seemed to her, so angry and volatile; that, coupled with his rugged scars, had probably made him quite terrifying.
"Usually we're fine," he said, to reassure himself as much as her, and then he forced himself to start moving again. He could stand here, frozen to the spot all day and night, and it wouldn't help him or anyone else. And Sylvie was his responsibility now. He had to look out for her. And he would, he told himself determinedly. If she had cost him Cecile's friendship, then he would have to simply devote himself to her instead.
They reached his cabin at last, and he ushered her into the small room, and then followed, closing the door behind him. He set down the suitcase he was carrying next to the door, and then leaned against it, feeling suddenly very tired.
"Is this.. your cabin?" she asked, turning to face him. He nodded, and after a moment, she put the suitcase she was carrying down next to the other.
"Is it... my cabin now, too?" This question was even more hesitant than the last, and he winced.
"Yeah, I guess it is," he said, and noted dully to himself that after the encounter in the hall, his likelihood of bunking with Cecile was pretty low.
"Reisner..." She stood in the middle of the room, her hands shoved in her pockets, staring up at him, her face clouded with indecision and doubt. He looked down at her and realised that what he wanted from this girl was friendship. Friendship and understanding. From the first, he'd had the feeling that they could be good friends; and now, he felt overwhelmingly that they could never be anything more. But the ring on his finger said otherwise.
He ran a hand across his eyes, wondering how things might have turned out if she had accosted Cecile on the pier instead of him. Surely Cecile would have found a better way to deal with this situation.
Or maybe he would've married her too. Who could say?
When he removed his hand from his face, Sylvie was standing right in front of him, and he jumped with surprise. Her face was thoughtful, now, as she stared up at him, and then she reached out and took one of his hands in hers. He stayed silent, wondering what she was thinking, wondering what she really wanted. Wondering if he would have to lie and pretend, for her sake.
"Reisner," she said softly, "I'm not expecting anything of you."
He stared at her, his mind suddenly blank. She smiled a little bit and shook her head.
"I needed to get married to get away from my father, I told you that. This is a marriage of convenience, nothing more. Of course, I'm glad that it's someone like you.. I feel like we can be friends. But.. that's all I want from you."
Reisner stared at her a moment longer. Then he took a deep breath, and expelled it all at once in a loud sigh of relief.
Sylvie laughed suddenly.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get you so worked up about it."
He smiled and shook his head at her, feeling much lighter and more relaxed than he had a minute ago.
"It's okay."
"Anyway, this marriage may work out advantageous for both of us in the long run," she went on, and he cocked his head at her.
"Oh? How so?"
"I can use my marriage to you to keep others off my back." She was watching him carefully. He nodded in agreement, and she continued. "And you can use your marriage to me to hide from everyone how you really feel about your brother."
His jaw dropped. His mind reeled. He heard stuttered, confused denials issuing from his mouth. Sylvie quirked her lips and shook her head.
"You don't need to deny it. I'm a woman; I understand these things better than you." She folded her arms across her chest, as if she considered the case closed.
Reisner winced, and wrapped his arms around himself.
"He's my brother," he said softly.
"So?" Sylvie raised her eyebrows. "You go out of your way to break every other law and taboo that the world throws against you, why must you hold true to that one?"
"He... I...." Reisner closed his eyes. In his mind, he pictured that foggy morning, when he'd followed Cecile secretly to his rendezvous with Elizabeth, burning with quiet jealousy, and in the end had only just managed to save him from Williams' wrath. "His heart belongs to someone else. Someone from his past."
"I know." There was something wistful in Sylvie's voice that made him open his eyes and look down at her, but she was looking away from him, her gaze focused on something distant, or perhaps on her own memories. But then she looked up at him again.
"Nonetheless, he is jealous of you and I."
"That doesn't mean..." Reisner trailed off as he realised that Cecile's reaction in the hallway could possibly be read as jealousy. Somewhere deep inside of him a little spark of hope caught alight and began to burn.
He loved his brother, and he had always loved his brother; but always silently, knowing that what he felt was not right, knowing that it could never be. And it was enough, just to be by his side. But... what if there was a chance, that his brother felt something for him too? He knew that Cecile pined for what he had lost, and he knew that he could never replace that... but he didn't mind being second best.
"Surely he doesn't.." he said, but the protest was more half-hearted this time, and Sylvie smirked at him.
"You won't know unless you try."
They ate dinner together in his cabin that evening; Sylvie did not feel ready to meet the entire crew all at once over food, and Reisner was happy to concede to that. So he slipped out quietly to get the meals and bring them back while nobody was looking. He kept an eye out for Cecile while he was out, but the Captain was nowhere to be seen. He wondered if he was getting drunk. Cecile had a tendency to drink himself into oblivion when he got upset or angry over something, and the end result was usually not a pretty sight.
Without the tense expectations of married life bogging them down, Reisner found that he and Sylvie got along famously. She was smart, she was quick, and she had a sense of humour. She was interested in the day-to-day workings of a pirate ship, and ready to offer her observations, opinions and ideas. Reisner quickly came to decide that he had made the right decision bringing her aboard; she was going to prove a valuable asset to the crew in more ways than one. Now he just had to convince Cecile of that fact.
They were just finishing eating when there was a sharp knock at the door. Reisner got up to answer it, somewhat confused; nobody really bothered with formalities like knocking on the Black Shark. But he had to concede that perhaps they felt uncomfortable with a woman on board.
He opened the door to find Cecile standing there. They stared at each other for a moment, and Reisner saw the anger still simmering deep in Cecile's eye. Instinctively, he drew back from the intensity of Cecile's glare, and he saw his brother's eye narrow in response.
"We need to talk. In my cabin. Alone." Cecile stressed the final word, his gaze shifting to take in the rest of Reisner's cabin, as if he expected Sylvie to appear and disagree with him. But she was sitting off to the side, out of his sight, so he was denied the satisfaction of glaring at her.
Reisner sighed, running a hand through his hair. He glanced over at Sylvie, to find her giving him a big grin and a very cheesy thumbs-up. He swallowed the sudden, nervous laughter that threatened to spill forth; it would hardly improve Cecile's mood.
"Will you be okay by yourself for awhile?" he asked Sylvie.
"Of course!" she said. "Shoo!" She made hurried shooing gestures at him.
He grinned ruefully. "Alright. I'll be back later."
He turned back to Cecile, only to find that his brother was already stalking away down the hall. He hurried after him. In his head, he replayed the short conversation he'd just had with Sylvie, wondering how it sounded to Cecile, wondering if Cecile was mistaking their relationship further still. And wondering how he was to go about fixing that without just blurting out something stupid like 'I love you'.
By the time he reached Cecile's cabin, his brother was standing on the far side of the room, in front of his desk, staring out the window that looked out the back of the ship to the sea beyond. All that was visible in the night's inky blackness was a few distant torches or lamps, but Cecile did not turn around to look at Reisner.
He closed the door behind him, and stood there, feeling more awkward around Cecile than he ever had in his life. Once again, he cursed himself for not thinking this through more thoroughly before he'd charged headlong into it.
"Cecile --" he began, but his brother cut him off.
"Why did you bring her aboard my ship?" Cecile's voice was harsh, accusing, and Reisner blinked. He knew his brother was angry, but he hadn't expected that.
"Did you actually watch how she fights?" he retorted, and Cecile spun around, his eyes wide and blazing.
"How she fights? What the hell has that got to do with anything?"
"It has everything to do with anything." Reisner frowned. Cecile only got this angry when he was drunk. He hadn't smelt alcohol on his brother, but a sober Cecile kept his temper in check, always. He really, really hated seeing a drunk, angry Cecile.
"You married her! Tell me why the hell her fighting style is related to shacking up with her?" Cecile was gesturing as he spoke, his movements controlled but full of vibrant force, as if the anger was so strong within him that words alone were not enough to express the degree of it.
Reisner put his hands on his hips. "You never asked me a damn thing about why I was marrying her. In fact, you avoided the damn topic almost from the moment I first brought it up. Don't you think it's a little late to object after the fact, after she's already packed everything and come here?"
Cecile's lips went thin, turning white with compressed rage. His hands clenched into fists. He stared at Reisner across the room, and Reisner felt as if there was real weight behind his stare; as if Cecile were capable of bowling him over by sheer force. But he held his ground, kept his hands on his hips, and stared right back. He didn't give up that easily, not when it came to Cecile.
"Fine," spat Cecile suddenly. "I'll ask now. Why did you marry her?" He continued to glare.
Reisner let his hands fall from his hips. He wondered if Cecile was going to not only listen, but actually hear and understand what he was saying.
"She can fight, Cecile. Like a man. She's as good as me with a sword. And quick on her feet. She's better than half the crew, at least. And she's smart... there's a lot going on up here;" he tapped his forehead, "and she has ideas. Good ideas. She's motivated."
He watched his brother's expression carefully, hopefully. The rage seemed to be fading, to be replaced by something akin to bewilderment. Taking that as a good sign, he stepped forward, his hands held forth, entreating, placating.
"I've never in my life met a woman less suited to be a housewife. And I've yet to meet someone more suited to be a high ranking officer on this ship. I want her right here. I want her sword where it belongs, protecting you."
Cecile sputtered suddenly as he spoke the last words, and then his hand came up, covering his face, hiding his eyes from Reisner. He scrunched up his face, as if in pain, or upset, and Reisner moved closer, unnerved by this reaction. He reached out and put a hesitant hand on Cecile's shoulder, and his brother tensed under the touch.
"You... were thinking about protecting me?"
"What else should I have been thinking about?" Reisner reasoned, feeling mildly confused by this question.
Cecile dropped his hand away from his face again, staring upward into Reisner's eyes. Reisner's jaw dropped; in that moment, Cecile looked so vulnerable, so helpless and confused and pained that his heart ached suddenly in his chest. He hadn't seen Cecile look like that since the time Williams had betrayed him.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, not knowing what he apologised for, only knowing that he couldn't look into those eyes and do anything else. "You are my brother, and dearest to my heart; you are all I have; I've devoted my life to protecting you; was it wrong of me to have been thinking of you, even then?"
Cecile shook his head wildly, as if to negate whatever it was his eyes were saying, and then without warning he was in Reisner's arms, arms wrapped tight enough around his middle to hurt, face buried in his shirt.
Reisner wrapped his arms around Cecile and simply held him, stroking his back gently. He had embraced his brother a thousand times. After Williams had hurt him, there had been countless days and nights when the only thing he could do was hold Cecile like this and listen to him cry. And he would do it as often as he needed it.
"Why?" Cecile's voice was choked, half-caught in his throat, his words muffled by the shirt, his breath warming Reisner's chest. "Why were you thinking only of me? Aren't you meant to marry the person you love?"
And there it was. Reisner closed his eyes briefly, took a deep breath, and then reached up and tangled his fingers in Cecile's hair. He lowered his head, placing the gentlest of kisses on the top of Cecile's head.
"But I love you, brother."
Cecile tensed in his grasp, as if he understood instantly the difference between this and all of the other times that Reisner had proclaimed to love him, as a brother should. Slowly, achingly slowly, he raised his head until at last Reisner could see his single blue eye, staring up at him from a face flat with shock. There was a tear running down his cheek, and Reisner ached to see it.
"You don't have to --" he began, and suddenly Cecile was pressing a single finger against his lips, stilling his words.
"How long?" Cecile whispered, his voice quivering. Reisner swallowed. His brother's gaze was still stunned, but his expression was softening, no longer quite so shocked. But what it was turning into instead... that, Reisner couldn't tell. And that scared him. He knew he'd taken it too far already. But there was no stopping now; it was too late to turn back.
"All my life," he said softly, and Cecile's face scrunched up.
"Why?" His voice was even softer. Reisner just stared at him for a moment, bemused.
"Why? Why not?" he asked. "Is there ever a reason? All I know is, you are all that has ever mattered."
Cecile's gaze wavered, and Reisner sighed.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, and moved to untangle himself from Cecile's grasp.
"No," said his brother. "I'm sorry."
And then Cecile was kissing him.
Reisner froze. His brother's lips were warm and moist, fumbling and uncertain as they pressed hesitantly against his. Yet there could be no doubt about what he was doing. He was kissing him. Cecile, the only person he had ever loved, was kissing him. For a moment, Reisner felt an overwhelming urge to wake up, before the dream went any further and left him even lonelier when he did finally awaken.
The feather-light touch of Cecile's unsure tongue flickering against his unresponsive lips snapped him right out of it. He was awake. This was not a dream. He had never dreamed anything like this; not this real, not this good, not this right.
He wrapped his arms completely around Cecile, engulfing him, strong fingers clutching desperately against his back, and he kissed his brother. Everything he'd ever wanted from Cecile, every dream he'd ever had about him, every flickering thought that had passed through his head when Cecile had looked at him a certain way, or walked around without his shirt on... it was all rushing crazily through his brain, unhindered, the way that his lips were crushed against Cecile's, finally unhindered, and he wanted to laugh and cry and scream all at once. And Cecile -- he wanted Cecile, more than anything, right here, right now. He tightened his already tight grip on his brother's smaller body, putting every ounce of feeling into that kiss, tasting and savouring every moment of it, touching and learning and loving every single millimetre of that beautiful, pouty mouth, of those salt-tanged lips, of the tongue that twisted and twined against his.
When at last he stopped, he was panting, and light-headed, sweat sheening his cheeks, and somehow he had pressed Cecile up against the desk, pinning him in place. He stared into his brother's wide, dazed eye, and felt just how close their bodies were, and how perfectly Cecile molded against him.
"Why are you sorry?" he asked, when he could find the voice to speak again. Cecile's gaze turned gentle, and a little sad.
"I'm sorry I didn't say or do anything earlier," he replied. His hand reached up, as hesitant as his lips had been, and stroked Reisner's cheek, ever so softly. Reisner leaned into the caress. He felt like a starved creature, suddenly given food after a lifetime of being forced to live on the mere scent of it. Just a little taste was not enough, and it would never be enough. He wanted it all, now, forever, unending.
He crushed his lips against Cecile's again, and his hips ground against his brother's, pushing his already stiff cock against Cecile's. Cecile gasped into his mouth, the kiss breaking and then coming together again with force, like a wave slapping the shore; never truly leaving, always to return.
His hands moved of their own volition, and he was ripping at Cecile's shirt, driven crazy by the need to get it off, to see and touch and taste his brother's bare skin. He fought with Cecile, and with the fabric, until somehow it was gone, and his hands pressed against soft skin; lean and wiry with not an ounce of fat, his arms weathered by their life at sea but his chest, stomach and back smooth and silky under Reisner's work-roughened, roaming fingers.
Cecile's hands pawed uselessly at Reisner's front, as if imitating his frantic attack, and Reisner didn't stop to question; he would always do what Cecile wanted. He all but tore off his own shirt, his head too addled to figure out the buttons. Now their bare chests pressed together, hands roving across each others backs, and Reisner wanted almost to cry at the overwhelming pleasure he felt, to be so close to his brother, to have Cecile wanting and needing to share this with him.
His cock was rock hard and straining against his pants, straining against Cecile's cock, desperate and needy for release. He slammed his hips against Cecile, and his brother growled in response, deep in his throat.
Cecile's hands vanished from his back, and then he heard as much as felt Cecile clumsily unbuckling his own belt. Cecile shifted against him, and then his fingers were at Reisner's belt as well, and Reisner groaned helplessly as they brushed and bumped against him, driving him even madder with desperate need.
His pants dropped, and Cecile's fingers cautiously stroked his engorged head, slicking it with his pre-cum till the whole of it was wet and sticky. He cried out, softly, desperately, and Cecile's other hand came up to his face, shushing him.
"Please, Reisner..." Cecile whispered the words, his voice hoarse and thick, and his single blue eye shone with desperate need as he stared up at his brother. His lips and chin were wet, his whole mouth swollen and red from the force of their kisses. As Reisner stared at him, mesmerized by how beautiful and stunningly sensual he looked, Cecile gasped softly, his eye half-lidding, and then he pressed his hips forward, and his cock thrust against Reisner's.
Reisner opened his mouth, but he remembered Cecile's silencing hand, and no sound came out. His whole body seemed to convulse, and then he was moving forward, pressing his brother against the hard desk, pushing upwards between his legs. Somehow, he found the entrance he was seeking, and he pressed inside him, not entirely sure what he was doing but knowing only how right this felt, and how Cecile quivered and whimpered in his arms, pressing against him, driving him deeper still.
Their bodies rocked together, hard and fast and furious, and Cecile's arm wrapped around his neck, almost tight enough to choke, pulling him down. Their lips found each other, and fought for dominance of the situation, all but choking on each other's saliva, as they gasped and panted and sobbed for breath.
Cecile's cock quivered, trapped between their stomachs, and suddenly Cecile, who had shushed him only moments earlier, cried out his name, his voice loud and hoarse and keening. Reisner pulled back enough to see his face, and the desperate love and pleasure that he saw there overwhelmed him so completely that he barely remembered coming; only that suddenly his body was so filled with happiness and desire and fierce, possessive love that he thought he might die in that moment, and he would not regret anything anymore.
He might have passed out then, for the next thing he recalled was being slumped over the desk, his brother's body crushed beneath him. Cecile's arms were wrapped around his neck, and his legs around his waist, all clinging tight enough to hurt. But he didn't mind in the slightest.
He raised his head so that he could see Cecile's face. The lamplight flickered, driving shadows across it, but he did not doubt the love for him that he saw written in that expression, and he wondered that he had never seen it before. He felt weak all over again, weak and disbelieving and thankful.
"I will never leave you," he swore softly, remember the original oath that he had pledged to Cecile, so many years ago, when their pirating career was just beginning. "I will always take care of you. And I will never, ever stop loving you, dear brother."
Cecile's eye filled with sudden tears, and he buried his head in Reisner's shoulder.
"You know.." his voice was choked again, "that you're not the only one in my heart..."
Reisner just smiled quietly and closed his eyes, planting a gentle kiss against his brother's tangled hair. "I know, Cecile. I've always known. I don't care. Just.. let me try and make you as happy as I can."
Cecile clung to him.
"You do," he whispered softly. "You do."
When Reisner shamefacedly returned to his cabin the next morning, quietly seeking a shirt whose buttons were still firmly attached, he found Sylvie already awake and dressed, doing push-ups in the middle of the floor.
"You train this early in the morning?" he blurted, completely forgetting himself. She looked up at him, her eyes knowing, and her face crinkled into an amused smile. He remembered, then, where he'd been and what he'd been up to -- and the fact that she probably had a pretty good idea -- and the embarrassment returned with full force. He could feel his cheeks burning.
"As opposed to you, who 'trains' with your Captain in the middle of the night?" she shot back, and for a moment he gaped at her, completely stunned to hear a woman being so forward. Then she winked at him, and he found himself laughing.
"Somebody has to keep him in shape," he returned, and she grinned, shaking her head.
"I hope that in the process you convinced him that you and I are a complete sham -- because I for one don't need the Captain ready to draw his sword on me every time I show my face on deck."
"Oh, he's pretty thoroughly convinced," Reisner replied smugly, feeling obscurely pleased and proud of himself for how the night's events had turned out. Sylvie got up from the floor, and wiped absently at the sweat on her brow.
"Good. Then I'd like to meet him. At his convenience, of course," she added, drolly.
Reisner grinned, crossing the floor to the chest where he stored his clothes. "He wants to meet you too. Now, if you don't mind. Well, when I find a new shirt, that is."
She eyed his current shirt, flapping open down the front, and then turned to look the other way, but he could see the laughter threatening to spill forth. "I'm not even going to ask," she said.
"Good. Don't." He changed into a shirt that he could actually button up, and then headed back for the door, ready to take her back to his waiting Captain. His Captain, his brother, his lover. Who loved him back. And now, he'd found them the perfect second mate. For the first time since they had become pirates, he felt that things were finally starting to go right for them. And he was determined to hold on to that feeling for as long as he possibly could. Didn't he deserve some happiness? And more importantly, didn't Cecile?
