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yohohonabottle · 2 months ago

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Potions mishap -Dire consequences (Reposted from A03)

🖋️Summary: Usually his smooth-talk is enough to get him through the day, except this time things went down differently and the situation got...Out of hand. Very out of hand, in so many ways. You'd think he was attempting to fill out a bingo card of 'what could possibly go wrong' that day. Also 'Merlin' happened to be close-by, too. Funny how it's always the two of them whenever trouble crops up, maybe funnier how no matter what- They seem to always inadvertently run into each other at the worst of times. It's like fate has it out for them for whatever reason. [❗] Trigger Warning:{❗} Obsessive, manipulative, love-sick and overall toxic behavior all across the board. Also mild foul language. 📖 Work status: Completed one-shot. (Chapter II is a bonus.) ----------------------------------------------- Notes: Had this brain-rot spawn in randomly, so I gave it the bum's rush. 🎧 Song recommendation: -> Butcher vanity -> Stalker's tango

Just your typical run-of-the mill day in Rustport, the town ever so steadily on its way to getting better, now that the Immortal Fleet are gone and there's no fog or kraken in the way. But change doesn't turn up overnight even as things are several ideas better looking for the next tomorrows. The Water Wights, leaderless now and in slightly more declining numbers, are still a damn menace. I may be a captain and a hero of this dear town now, but money won't pool itself at my feet. Still gotta work, gotta hustle.

It's not like Sonja can keep a hawk-eye on Brineville nowadays either. If anything, her 'free time' is over and she'll be busy drowning in heaps of work from now on, and it would only pile on up higher.

Plus, the newly acquired Chainkeeper is still out of commission and will be in Hugin's care for a while, so no adventuring or treasure-hunting. Which means-- Back to intel-brokering and scurrying for whatever other opportunities that flit into his line of sight or grasp, or both. Today's deal looks to be pretty promising, and after that- A bit of networking, a bit of bounty-hunting, a quick stop at the Golden guest for a drink..

Boy didn't that deal turn out to be a surprise. A not so good one.

As soon he reaches the meet-up point in a back alley on Shark street by the Warehouse district, things swiftly spun for the crazy.

Holding a pick between his teeth, Sinbad reaches into his bag and pulls out a scroll, unrolling it. Names accompanied by dates and places, and notes look back up at him, some crossed out and others circled or underlined with some question marks. Little miscellaneous notes he'd jotted down about each client- Intel he'd gotten from his wide network that he has meticulously built up over the years and whatever info he'd managed to get by doing his own thorough research. Plus what to dig more into later.

One in particular jumps out at him-- A nameless chap going by a pseudonym strictly, a rather elusive one at that. The only thing he's come to know is that the fellow is from the Wights and dabbles in potions or drugs, having gotten hired several times. And yet, each time- It was never in person, always through letters and smaller fry.

Each time he manages to remotely begin to catch a pattern, he's been met with either a dead-end or a massive red herring that makes everything prior look nonsensical.

—"Alright, should be here.. Now, the carrier pigeon should be turning up about any moment." Wonder who would it be this time. -The sailor hums with a laid-back charming smirk, looking up from the scroll as he quickly rolls it up. But nothing out of the ordinary comes up. No courier, no lackey, no boss. Only him and the silence of the shaded corner, the sun high and the seagulls flying overhead. Tucking the rolled-up paper back into his bag and keeping his calm face on, he reaches for his daggers slowly, stance deceptively relaxed but on guard and on-edge.

Taking a leisurely stroll to scope out the place while waiting, Sinbad moves the pick to the other corner of his mouth, taking stake of his surroundings. Still no hair or hide, the hour of meeting is passing, the minutes wheezing by. This is the place, Atropine clearly specified in the letter earlier. Where's that bookie? Nowhere.

Ten more minutes go by which easily string into fifteen then twenty. No bookie or henchman turns up.

Was I duped? Not the first time to happen, but I did make sure to be locked-in when doing my homework. Did I overlook something somehow?

"I'm just wasting my time. Guess deal was postponed or called off." And right as the blond intel-trader mutters this to himself under his breath with a displeased sigh, preparing to leave--

Something darts like a flash, a silhouette.

On alert, Sinbad sharply turns on his heels, ready to fight and about to yell 'Who's there? Show yourself!'-- all the daring street-rat gets, is a glimpse of a person in a high-collar trench coat and a hat. But it's impossible to tell if it's a man or woman under those, and everything happens in seconds, he could barely react at all. A bottle is thrown straight at him, the cork bouncing off the wall like that from a bottle of champagne and whizzes past like a bullet, missing his head by centimeters as he stumbles with a pained curse, dropping his weapons.

Wiping off the liquid from his face and clinging onto consciousness like a drowner with adrenaline screeching like a kraken in his veins, he shrugs off the blow, blinking to clear his vision. But the blasted scoundrel is gone, had bolted like a coward. Bending to pick up his daggers and sheathing them, the tanned man staggers a little but retains his balance through sheer stubborn will. A step, two, away from the crates of the deserted warehouse- His vision blurs and the world spins, then turns black.

It's a few long moments of drifting in the weightless void, that the seaside savant finally comes to. What greets him, is a familiar face of a friend and that voice... It's the sweetest music to his ears. His mind immediately drops everything else to laser-focus on those things alone- the sight and voice, the perfume or cologne Pirin wears, the fancy tailcoat, shirt, the red embroidery on it, sash and slacks- committing it all to memory fully. Like the greatest, most precious treasures. Sinbad has never felt this strongly enraptured--Never needed or revered someone so, very, terribly badly before or had the insurmountable compulsion to keep that person by his side, safe and sound. All to himself body, mind and soul, surrender himself fully with near religious devotion and worship the very ground they walk on, no hesitation, regrets or second thoughts.

Until now.

Until laying his eyes on the best, most lovely gem one could possibly wish for. No pearl, diamond, moonstone, opal or quartz can come remotely close.

No matter what the cost, everything else be damned.

Forever.

—"Sinbad? Sinbad!" -A very much anxious Pirin barks, tone sharp with worry barely concealed, shaking the man by the shoulders with a death-grip. A pang of relief washes over him when the sailor's rum-like brown eyes open and meet his own pearlescent, vision focused and clear. Conscious and responsive, good.

The relief instantly fizzles out the second he takes notice of the look in that gaze, one he's been unfortunate enough to have gotten acquainted with a little too well.

Devotion that goes beyond what's healthy, reverence that crosses far from normal admiration. Fanatic, obsessed. Like that of a maniac. It sends chills down the vampire's spine, chalk-pale face going even paler with dawning horror as a ghastly realization strikes, one that entirely confirms his suspicions as to why a particularly cold feel of dread has been tailing him this day. Something happened here, Sinbad no doubt has gotten himself into trouble like the bloody magnet he is for it. If the glass shards lying around on the ground a meter or two behind his back are anything to go by.. Then it appears whatever was in that bottle, a potion or drug maybe, is causing this state. "..No..." Not this again! For gods' sake not again! How many times would this thing be happening? First it was Valen and solving that problem was a bitch, then it was Soren who fell prey to the same 'plague'. And both times Berial turned out to be the culprit for casting that disastrous jinx. And now it's Sinbad who's affected! How did that wretched clown get his gangly little hands on him?? How?! Each time someone fell victim to this accursed madness, hell was one tiny step away. Waking them up only got harder and more complicated, preventing chaos and unnecessary deaths even more so.

Merlin's hamsters nearly died those two times, the call much too close.

This one won't be all too different, will it? Could be, for worse unfortunately.

Letting go of the blond's scarred shoulders as though slapped, Pirin hastily gets up to his feet from how he was crouched down by the man's side and almost stumbles as he backs away from him. As if stung, narrowly tripped over his own feet. His brain instantly blanks--

Whoever this is, isn't his trusted friend he has been adventuring with all these months while stuck in Rustport. Not Sinbad, no- only a lunatic wearing his skin and voice. It reels as he keeps his eyes trained on the other like how he'd watch a lethal foe. Someone is targeting me. Someone really wants to rattle me, poisoning my friends like this to severely hurt us both in the most sadistically diabolical way.

"Pirin?" -He distantly hears the scruffy young man breathe in a confused tone of mild concern, sitting up and getting up on his feet shakily. The small spike of excitement and happiness a smidge too strong doesn't go unnoticed. "What's wrong? Why are you looking at me like this?" Like I'm a madman to be scared of? No answer falls out of his lips, too shocked and stifled to speak, only shakes his head as he keeps backing away. Distance that the tanned orphan closes with steady yet swift strides, a comforting smile on his stubbled face.

It's not reassuring at all. It makes matters worse, somehow makes him look deranged instead of the usual charisma. A monster.

—"Hey now, it's me- Sinbad, your old mate! I'm a friend, remember? Come on, I'm not going to hurt you. I would never want to!"

Almost misspoke there, said 'love'. Whoops! "There's nothing to be scared of." -His tone softens ever so slightly, loosing its light-hearted vivaciousness. But it doesn't dip low enough as to sound threatening or intimate and loving. Adoring. Devoted. No, no. It would only spook his poor 'Little finch', his dear lovely siren, scare him away. Can't have that happening, can we? Instead it's sincere.

—"You can trust me, you know that, right?" Or do you still not trust me at all after all the trials we went through? Do I still seem that unreliable to you as I did on day one?

—"You're not yourself." -The shorter, slimmer man finds his voice at last, uttering the words hardly above a whisper with a shake of his head. Images resurge into his mind's eye, vivid memories of desperately fighting to keep matters under control so tragedies don't occur. Having to deal with his friends' worst tendencies rising and twisting them into senseless love-sick creeps. Potential stalkers and murderers.

How on Esperia he managed to dodge getting assaulted, Pirin has zero clue, but it was a close call. Instead he made sure to steer things right back to friendly, mildly affectionate territory or put distance and shut it down before matters could snowball into unwanted directions.

But dear gods did they made it hard at each turn. If there was any genuine interest and desire prior to the illness, it was cranked up to terrifying intensity of lustful desperation. And where there were none, the curse warped its victim's mind to reach the same result.

"I don't know how you got hit with that plague- But you're not yourself." You're sick. Corrupted.

And I'm terrified of what disaster you'll become.

A part of him wishes to run back towards the baffled, lost sailor and offer comfort- Promise the man that things will be back to normal soon. Gods know how pained he feels right now somewhere deep down, how scary it must be.. to be still lucid and see the changes taking place. Like rotting from the inside out alive, and unable to put a stop to it on his own--Only watch helplessly as the curse keeps on gnawing away like ravenous maggots. The strained look lurking underneath the slowly settling madness is proof, a strangled muted cry for help. And it tugs at his own bleeding heart to be seeing his companion in such a state. The look on Sinbad's scarred angular visage, crestfallen and pleading like a kicked lost dog- It pulls on his heartstrings like playing masterful arias.

Pirin wants nothing more than to pull the weathered intel-broker into a bear-hug. But the knowledge of how the hex festering under the man's skin is ever so slowly but surely distorting him into someone else, into a threat-- It holds him firmly at bay. Rooted in place, keeping a wary eye on how the distance between them shrinks with each careful step Sinbad takes so to back away if he gets too close.

—"Seriously, Sinbad- tell me...How's it that you always get yourself neck-deep in trouble?" -The vampire huffs with a small haggard laugh and a weak smile, attempting to lift both their spirits with humor. Which isn't too far from a genuine question. For all those months he's spent in this rundown coastal town and by Sinbad's side, trouble always somehow found its way to nip at their heels tirelessly without fail. You'd think the adventurous savant is doing it on purpose. And sometimes, that is the case. However most of the time, it happens on accident. A trouble, hazard-magnet.

Problem is, he himself isn't much better in this regard- Pretty much on the same scale as Sinbad.

And what happens when you put two equally strong trouble-magnets together?

Nothing good, that's what.

—"Sometimes I honestly think you're using it as a strange way to 'advertise your intelligence-gathering skills' and draw in clients. No PR is bad PR, right?" Too bad I know better. And already just as neck-deep in this mess.

Yet the thought of leaving this punk alone feels like a bad idea, considering how unpredictable he is with what kind of shenanigans he tends to get into one way or the other. Unlike the knight of Holistone who has always given him the feeling that he'll be fine. No need to worry about him and be on-edge. Something I wish I could confidently say about mister seadog here. Already, Pirin's mind whirls to work on quickly analyzing the current predicament and how to fix it. This isn't about him being Merlin's little helper and substitute, carrying the legendary mage's long-winding heroic legacy. It's a personal matter, about saving a friend first and foremost. The rest being safe from danger is a major bonus, granted everything works out long before any damage is done.

Would it be as simple as 'confessing' like it was with Valen? Or would it be as risky as playing along to get close and extract the curse like it was with Soren? ...Or would it be worse? It's almost as though whoever it is behind this maddening plague is mocking him. Can this even be reversed?

The disheveled young man chuckles at his words, appreciating the gesture while also feeling a stab of guilt and throb of sick thrill. It's comforting, knowing his dear friend cares about him, is willing to flip the world upside-down without batting an eye, just to help him in any way possible. Just as Pirin would do for his other comrades. He could see the gears in his mind rapidly turning, thinking up of a solution and several back-up plans.

Dimly, Sinbad remembers the show-down with the Immortal, when he had managed to use Merlindabest and get in contact with Sonja and Pirin while distracting Hodgkin so they can strike from behind.

When the pale mage had seemingly sassed with him as he asked if everyone is okay, saying he should be asking that. At the time, he had assumed that the 'Magister' was just sarcastically deadpanning, implying to him that he can't be relied upon in the least. In truth, looking back at that moment and disregarding his role as Merlin, Pirin actually meant it genuinely, as in 'Are you okay?', worried-sick.

It shouldn't be such a big deal, that the pale man cares about him, it's completely normal after all. It's what friends do. But by the gods, does the potion amplify and blow it out of proportion. It skews his thoughts and messes him up, fans the wildfires of desire with each second. It..taints the tiny, flickering, embers of real much deeper affection that have recently come to life at the back of his mind and heart. Corrupts them into foul decay of infatuation and bloodlust, plants nagging intrusive thoughts filled with a sickening giddy excitement. Perverted. The last few make Sinbad visibly shudder with a wince. The most scary part is that they're slowly beginning to not repulse him as much, instead feel like something completely mundane. Natural. Appealing, even.

The world is fading away, narrowing down to only one, single thing- The breath-taking angel standing in front of him. Pirin. Perfect, beautiful Pirin. My Pirin. My dear, gorgeous, siren. Only mine.

Oh how he just wishes to run his hands through that snowy, silky hair, feel the ice-cold skin shivering under his lips. Just for a little bit. Imagine those thin, pretty lips screaming his name, claws digging in his back and wanting for more- how wonderful it would be.... But he restrains himself, firmly keeping his hands at his sides.

—"You could say that, yeah. What can I say? Guess not even danger can resist my handsome charm." A small step closer with a shrug of his shoulders, fingers itching to reach out and grab that pretty-face by the sharp elbow; Pull him into his embrace, wrap his arms around that slim form, curved trim waist and not let go ever again. Hold tight, tighter than a python constricting its prey.

Deep down, distantly, the sailor feels a creeping sense of cold dread and helplessness, buried under layers of infatuation and messed-up insatiably intense lust. The desire to fully possess and claim, hide away the ghostly beauty like a greedy old seawolf would his treasure or like how a dragon vehemently guards its hoard, is only growing more and more.

"And it's right on-brand, don't you think? Plus, I know you'll lend me a hand if things get dicey." Still, Pirin's words ring true and cut like a knife through his heart- More so the knowledge that he really is a threat to one of his most dear companions, knowing that he's not being himself. The tendrils of saccharine insanity wrapping around his sinking heart and throat in a suffocating grip like a kraken, drag him under the abyssal waters further. The urge to lunge in hurt, betrayed anger, shake Pirin up, make him see that he is his one and only, burns like a searing brand. Why don't you get it? I'm the only one who loves you, more than anyone else. We're meant to be. It's not that complicated.

The mere thought of someone else laying a hand on the vampire, having his love, make him happy-- sends a tsunami wave of pure, raw, intense rage. It makes his hands itch to grip the daggers on either side of his waist and spill the blood of any poor sod who so much as dares to lay eyes on his Pirin for a millisecond too long. Let alone try stealing the phantom away from him.

Already, simmering jealousy bubbles and boils within him. The way his love had recoiled away from him before he could reach out a hand, really wasn't the reaction he had expected or hoped for. It stung. And it was so nice, waking up with an angelic face looking down at him, cradling him close. The one time he's not being a charming smooth-talker with a dashing smile, and he's written off as a horrible monster. You'd think a vampire, out of all people, wouldn't be quick to judge. But oh well, it is what it is. I'll take it. I've had to make do with far less.

Another step closer. Almost there.

Looking down at the shorter man cautiously eying him and taking a small step back, the look of brewing ire melts away to something softer. Reverence, boundless love and adoration, marveling at the sight before him. The soft, triangular face, the sharp, pointy nose, the thin lips, and those mesmerizing pearl-white eyes with their vertical pupils – It's as if he's seeing them for the first time. And he can't tear his eyes away. For once Tritonus has smiled upon me. The mild scowl of wounded, wary and conflicted uncertainty sprawled on the humanoid's delicate, porcelain, doll-like features easily catches his eye.

I know that look.

Thinking, mulling something over more thoroughly. One, split-second of distraction and hesitation.

The cunning, savvy hustler closes the gap swiftly before the opportunity slips by.

Placing a hand on the other's waist and pulling him close, a legend that he's once heard idly rises to Sinbad's mind as he cups that pretty face - Of a stunning young shepherd man whom was chosen by the gods as their cupbearer. How fitting. The downcast, clear pale eyes instantly snap up to meet his like a deer caught in headlights. Goes stiffer than a plank, torn between attempting to flee and fighting back, or melting into the touch. Gotcha.

It appears the pretty-boy has had developed a pretty hard crush on Sinbad ever since the man had first found him washed ashore after the kraken had ruined his boat. What inevitably set off the events of their adventures like a chain reaction, all the way to facing off against the Immortal Fleet and its leader in one last showdown that ended Rustport's crisis for good and lifted the fog.

That crush hasn't dissipated throughout the duration of those adventures, even as the vampire dutifully played his role as the Magister Merlin and did his best to hide it. Even now, he still fights to wrestle it down, treating this situation as another day of being on-duty and prioritizing his recovery along with ensuring the safety of everyone else foremost. All while shoving his own personal feelings far aside to stay focused with as much of a brave face as he can.

In that regard, he's a lot like Sonja--Serious. Always serious and dutiful, focused on the mission at hand, barely smiles or laughs. Always acts efficiently to cold-bloodedly uproot the problem at its core while thinking of how to minimize casualties down to zero as much as possible.

Too bad the current issue is rather personal. Not much leeway to be 'Merlin' here. And that, unfortunately, is the chink in his armor. All of that, paired with this secret yearning for affection and love, and you've got yourself a weak spot. Maybe that's why he froze up like this, knows he has slipped and left himself open to fire, and it's too late to cover up now.

This is the problem with smart, perceptive and mighty sharp socially-skilled people like Sinbad and Valen. Almost nothing gets past them, whether it elicits a comment or not. It's even worse when those same folks actually know him pretty well, having spent enough time with him to observe and learn quite a lot. Little things like general attitude, mindset, fears and hopes, all the trivial ticks and habits that can help all the more to read him like an open book and make rather spot-on educated guesses.

Shit. I'm done for. He's got me.

A slow, sly grin spreads across Sinbad's face as he leans in closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper that sends goosebumps along the pallid skin.

—"Well, well, well." -He drawls, eyes sparkling with mischief and desire. "Looks like someone's been keeping secrets from me." No witty or refuting retorts meet him, the other lad mute as a fish and pointedly looking anywhere else but him. It's not like this silly little crush has really been a secret either.

Contrary to playing dumb and being a buffoon deliberately, Sinbad isn't blind. That look of strangled, suppressed, secretive desire and inner war about it isn't new to him, having seen it flash in the haunting depths many times over. At the beach, the inn, at the pier south of Brineville, the Chainkeeper and during the showdown- Every time their eyes met, it was there. Doesn't stop him from poking fun at the poor chap though, pretend to have just discovered this revelation.

—"I had no idea you felt this way about me." Sinbad continues, his voice dripping with seduction. "But now that I do, I'm not going to let you slip away so easily." And then his loose grip tightens, pressing their bodies close. Right away, that lovely delicate face turns a nice shade of red from shame, swallowing thickly with a hammering heart. And, by the god of the waves, the way Pirin's breath hitches and gets a tiny bit less controlled as he leans in ever so slightly- It sends his own heart thumping with anticipation. Satisfaction. His warm breath ghosts over that keenly sensitive ear of his, the claws gripping onto his shoulders try to push him away meekly.

—"You're a different kind of damedangler. Has anyone ever told you that, my dear friend?" A playful nip, and a little bit more of the stoic composure crumples to dust. Ever so steadily like a black widow, the captain spins his sweet web of smooth charm with a silver tongue. Like the poison coursing in his veins driving him mad. The tall sailor plays up his act, turning the heat up. Working up the poor bat and drawing him in like a moth to a flame.

"You could sing, walk me right to my death. And I'd gladly follow with a smile...My angelic siren." A pinch of flattery murmured in a soft lilt that teeters on being husky, wear away more of the defensive walls. And finish it with a pleading whisper of sincerity as though confessing to a sin or deepest secret. "Stay here, in Rustport. Stay with me."

Of course Sinbad knows what he's doing, how he is taking advantage of the night nymph's spark of vulnerability as he used his second of hesitation to make a move and how he's being an underhanded manipulator.

Oh but it'll be worth it.

He'll be sure to make up for the slights in full with no regrets guaranteed soon enough.

The small hands on his shoulders tighten for a brief second like the flutter of a butterfly's wings upon sensing imminent danger. Relax their hold slowly.

—"What, are you talking about Sinbad?" -A weak, strained attempt to put up resistance in denial. How endearing. A tad too late, however.

—"I've seen the way you look at me, when you think I'm not paying attention." His thumb brushes gently over Pirin's cheekbone, a feather-light touch that sends a shiver down the other's spine. There's no need to pull back to look into the clear pearls to see the war between duty and desire churning. It's palpable as the buzzing tension highly-strung between the two of them, and it breaks his heart. Sends it fluttering with giddy excitement.

"How about you let me make you forget about this incident?" Placing a teasingly light peck little under his love's jaw, his tone rolls down to a seductive purr at the end, the hand resting on the shorter man's waist slides under the hem of his shirt to feel the cool and smooth skin.

"I promise it'll be worth your while."

Let me love you. Please, Pirin- Don't make me beg.

Still, the youthful-appearing doll doesn't go under without a struggle, like the whale tugging at the Billy 'O Tea from one of the wellerman's shanties. And much like the captain of that ship, Sinbad was dead-set on taking that whale in tow.

—"I'm not sure this is a good idea..." Playing hard to get, while ultimately slipping right into his grasp. Pulling back slightly to look him in the eye, he notices how the leaner man still doesn't have the courage to meet his gaze- keeping his hypnotizing eyes cast off to the side as though worried someone might walk in on them doing something...taboo, inappropriate. How Pirin has subtly shrank in on himself, uneasy and nervous. Ah yes, the age old dilemma- The rational mind says one, and the heart wants what it wants.

So close to victory.

And once again, the crafty captain dives in, snatching the opportunity without second thought to tip the scales fully into his favor. Sealing the deal with a deep kiss of hot, whirlwind passion without warning. The insatiable, all-consuming hunger for more burns as though melting him from the inside- like the green gravecalling magic fires of the Immortal. Drunk on the taste, high and addicted to the feel of that frigid skin pressed against his own. It's not enough. The frail-looking nocturnal being doesn't push him away, already under his spell and it's more than enough for Sinbad to take it as consent, getting all the bolder with his advances. His kisses are messy, fiery and deeply needy, barely giving much opportunity to gasp for air before reclaiming his lover's mouth again and exploring the form in his arms eagerly. The hand that is cupping the other's face move down to hold onto his waist to both steady and keep him in-place from slipping away like sand, savoring each muffled hum of protest like ambrosia. His other hand slinks up, fingers tracing over the lean stomach and the curve of his ribs, over the planes of his chest like handling a priceless artefact most sacred.

One by one the buttons are undone, loosening the linen garment around the narrow, sharp shoulders, giving a lovely glimpse of the flawless skin, a little tease of his prize. The hardy shmoozer has never bothered to hide his desires for money and treasures, always dreaming of adventures far and wide, but now both couldn't be any further from his mind--

Nothing matters. Nothing, nothing, nothing, only the elusive young man in his grasp. Nevermind how he probably looks like a downright wasted kook or an unhinged lunatic like Nara was. ...Or how disgusted and horrified this mess makes him be deep down inside with seeing himself spiral as though watching a stranger from the outside, so guilty, ashamed. Sick.

A new wave crashes over, the riptide throwing him back under the suffocating effects. Except no compass will save him from this one, left to fight for air, for lucidity and regaining control all on his own. For Pirin's sake, before it's too late and rapidly running out of time.

I'm sorry my friend...Please forgive me..

—"I want to make you feel good." -Sinbad softly murmurs in a low, amorous voice between kisses, nearly breathless. It's true, he's fallen hopelessly head over heels for the quiet, aloof lad since the day he first laid eyes on him --It's not true at all.--however the gnawing hunger had been suppressed for so long.. It's unbearable, bursting at the seams, trickling out like ale from a faulty keg. I want to know everything, all of you. With each kiss and touch, he only finds himself ten times more ravenous as if having been starved for ages. Once again, the vampire tries to fight against the sailor's charm, overwhelmed akin to swimming upstream against a mighty current. Fails. Barely manages to get a word in at all beyond the insistent 'Sinbad!' in objection with the barrage of hot kisses.

With a vexed hum at the next kiss, Pirin finally gives the blond's bare scarred shoulders a firm push, halting the man. Good grief, let me breathe for gods' sake! Damn!

Somewhere in his mind, a stab of bitterness and pain echoes.

For months and months he had waited, sighing over the guy like some love-sick loon but not once were those feelings met.

No, because Sinbad was too busy pining after the Carmine Whispers' leader, despite how the woman has never shown an ounce of interest back. And then the handsome info-gatherer had noticed him and his feelings, despite how much he's been trying to hide them away.

The bitter pain turns to sorrow in Pirin's heart, swiftly igniting to wrath.

Every time the tanned orphan had teased, skillfully played him like a cat toying with a mouse--It was like twisting a dagger ever so sadistically slow, after embedding it deep into his heart. But the flames have long started to die out now, reduced to mere flickering embers in preparation to let go..

How cruel of you to fan them now.

—"Sinbad! Knock it off!"- He huffs out, catching his breath at long last with an annoyed frown on face. Which the tall charmer certainly doesn't take seriously, rather finding it cute. This is no good- Things are going south too fast. How can I veer us back to friendly grounds? Or at least stall enough for the wretched drug to fizzle out.

Maybe offer to go for a swim or seashell- collecting? Make it a game to take the seafarer's attention elsewhere, like the friendly competition and 'adventure'?

By the look of things, the Seaside savant would still pivot them right back to this point no matter what he attempts. Looking back on the events earlier today, choosing to leave Chippy and Hammie with their rightful owner was a wise decision. Those two would've no doubt interfered in a pitiful attempt at saving him and gotten in terrible trouble, possibly get themselves killed instead of escaping with an extremely close call.

At least this way I'll be the only one in hot waters. No need for more casualties.

—"We'll get caught out here." The nerve of this shmuck. Even still, Sinbad isn't deterred, only so much more determined. Instead of taking the hint, he persists stubbornly, dives back in for more. Едно си баба знае, едно си баба бае.

—"C'on Vanya--I'll give you everything you've ever wanted, everything you've ever dreamed of. Just say "yes" and let me show you how much I love you." -The corrupted intel-trader murmurs, lips trailing along Pirin's jawline, fingers yet again find the hem of his shirt. In a single motion, the offending cloth is pulled over the assistant's head and tossed aside in a heap with his tailcoat. Without wasting time, con artist is quick to continue exploring fervently.

"You're beautiful."

With each heated, reverent kiss that the daring street-rat leaves-- along his neck, collarbone, down to the center of chest, over his navel--Merlin's substitute shivers involuntarily. The way Sinbad works his way lower, his callous palms resting on the waistband of his slacks and he traces the fabric as he looks up...It drives him utterly mad- both with rekindled desire and indignance. That old spark he's been fighting to smother suddenly blazing brightly anew much to his chagrin, the wooden floor beneath his back proving some much needed anchor. Worst part is that I don't actually want to resist...I've wanted this for so long....

With a soft sigh through his nose, a wry smile of mild amusement slowly slithers onto the vampire's lips as he sits up on his elbows. Reaching out with a hand, he gently grasps the seadog's jaw, lifting his head a little.

—"Какви медени слова ми думаш.. Почти ти се вързах." -His tone is a fond, softly tranquil murmur if not with a small lilt of mirth and longing as he holds the half-lidded smolderingly wanton gaze evenly. Pirin's grip sharply tightens, claws digging into the tanned skin. And whilst the look in his pearly irises remains warmly serene- his breathless, deathly, tenor adopts an edge of bitter humor.

"Нямаш си на представа колко ме дразниш." And then the calmness, mild amusement falls off to reveal the suppressed hurt anger that's been lurking underneath. Just as the smile fades away from his face. "I've been waiting for months, naively held out hope that maybe-some day- you'd come around. All while watching you hopelessly pine after Sonja, even though she didn't even once show interest back." Letting go of the man's jaw sharply, his claws leave stinging nicks.

Slipping out of Sinbad's grasp like sand or an eel, Pirin smoothly rises to his feet and crosses over to where his shirt lies discarded. Picking it up from the floor and slipping it back on, he fixes up the buttons. Deft, firm, steady hand. The shorter man's voice is.. steadier, more flat as he speaks up again, keeping his back towards the swindler he once wanted. There's still a listless note of pain in it, albeit much more withdrawn than mere moments ago.

—"I knew you were only larking back then, whenever you teased me with empty flirting." For a brief second his tone becomes humorous as he adds in after that. Self-deprecating. "Didn't stop me from wishing you wouldn't toy with me, though."

When he glances over his shoulder back at Sinbad, the hurt is gone. Steeled to affable fondness.

"And then came a point where I finally realized the day I'm hoping for won't come. So I resigned myself to accepting the situation and move on. Still sucked, but what to do? It happens."

And here you are, reopening old scabs all over again.

—"I'm still grappling with toning those feelings down, making myself see you as a friend and nothing else. But I've been getting better at it, slightly. I'll still love you just as deeply as I have before- Just through platonic lens."

Adjusting his tailcoat and smoothing out its wrinkles, he finally turns back to face his friend with a genuinely peaceful smile. Even if a tiny bit wistful.

—"And now you're pining after me, after I finally accepted you only got eyes for the Roses' leader." A chuckle. "Funny how the tables have turned, isn't it?"

Goodbye, my friend.

And then pulsating pain hits, like a sledgehammer coming down hard. Nearly makes his vison blur and swim. It stops, then comes back- just as merciless. The outlaw's hands snap up, back hunching over as he clutches at his head with gritted teeth. The hammering doesn't leave him alone, only pauses for a long second or two before coming back with the same brutal force.

Just where did these come from?!

This is pure torture- The rapidly start-stop cycling of the migraines pounding all over his skull. ..Oh boy, here comes the vertigo and nausea. Yup, there they are. What a horrible hangover. Several minutes pass by with this ongoing sporadic hammering haunting him without remorse. Serves me right for drinking ale like water, I guess. Honestly- Between the filthy water of those rusty old pipes and alcohol? Yeah, no- I'm sticking to ale, thanks. And then it all screeches to a halt-- The pain, the insanity and intrusive whispering voices and thoughts. Like they were all burnt away, letting blissful silence to settle over. Finally, clarity. Peace. Oh sweet, sweet relief.

A familiar voice seeps through the quiet, like the gentle and distant wash of waves ashore. Yet crystal clear all the same.

The words come as a slap and a gut-punch, leaving Sinbad reeling and winded. His hands drop at his sides, brows knitting together into a look of realization. The revelation that the vampire knew about his pursuing of the Whispers' head-honcho, that he kept silent about his feelings for his sake all that time-- It stings worse than the bleeding claw-marks on his jaw. Or any other physical blow ever could. It's mind-boggling and so heart-wrenchingly bittersweet, finally shaking him out of the potion's weak, wretched grip.

Suddenly the envious glances that Pirin threw the woman back when the five of them and Nara were about to depart from the Scandia Isles make sense. When Sonja offered him to be his first mate and he had reacted like a surprised love-struck fool, or whenever the nightly humanoid caught them bantering at the tavern and picked up on the subtle, hopeful flirting subtext lurking under his playful jokes. However not once did the other man complain or make a face, even less made an attempt to swoop in and proclaim his longings. And Sinbad perfectly knows, understands why.

Because above all else, Ioan wants for him to be safe, well, satisfied, and happy.

And if being with the mafia woman will make him truly happy, then so be it. Right as it seemed.

Pirin, the reckless, infuriatingly kindhearted soul he is, is more than willing to let his own yearnings die and become his wingman, and stay as a friend. The peaceful smile playing on the other man's lips and the look of serene, wistful acceptance leave him stunned, at a loss for words with an aching heart. You--!

Never before in his life, has the Seaside savant met someone this selfless. But it makes sense, doesn't it? It's so, obviously on-brand for Pirin to pull this kind of stunts, make great sacrifices in the name of those close to his heart.

There's still a chance to fix this mess, before that fool leaves and disappears to bury his hopes again.

Before Pirin really looses that spark and becomes cold.

—"Pirin, wait!"

Hastily getting up onto his feet, the brown-eyed man dashes to catch up with his companion's retreating form. There are still lingering effects from the toxin running in his veins along with obsession, but to hell with them! (They're so nearly gone. Barely but a tiny speck that gets washed away.)

Pausing in his tracks, the false magister turns his torso slightly to look at the other with a faintly baffled look. Immediately his expression morphs to one of shocked surprise as warm lips crash against his own in a brief, scorching kiss. Two arms encircle him fully into a tight hug, as though the scarred blond is scared he'd turn to smoke and fizzle out. The final blow was most shocking- Three, simple candid words said quietly in a voice raw with emotion, that it cracks. No bravado, no teasing yet full of many things left unsaid.

—"I love you." Pirin blinks, stumped. Did I hear right? I think I misheard.

What follows next throws him for a loop further. A stream of honesty that has never come out of the intelligence-gatherer before, the money-loving man pouring his heart out as though under another spell or potion. With being laid bare like this, he honestly has no idea what to do or say. It feels far too poignant to be merely an act. At the same time, it's not out of Sinbad's league to shed some mighty convincing crocodile tears in order to get what he wants. Just like how he's not averse to being silver-tongued, and concoct elaborate ruses and other questionable methods to reach his goals.

...And yet, he had distinctly chosen to trust this shifty weasel nonetheless on day one contrary to his own deeply-rooted trust issues screaming to do otherwise. That trust has been proven to be well-placed time and time again. Nothing jumps out as malign or false, triggers his intuition.

"I know I've been caught up chasing after Sonja while flirting with you on the side...When I should've seen what's right in front of me much sooner. I thought I could have my cake and eat it too, without pausing to consider how unfair it would be. Forgive me." Hesitantly, the magical creature hugs back. Allows him to go on- Once again places his faith in him without wavering or judgement.

It's all the courage he needs to continue. So Sinbad presses on.

"It had completely slipped my mind that you'd keep quiet like that for my sake. Even though I've already seen you make plenty of sacrifices before." A strained, humorless chuckle followed by a half-lighthearted remark. "Really blundered there, didn't I?" Pirin stays mute as a fish, an air of quiet understanding and compassion to his silence as he hears him out without interruption.

Like always.

Didn't matter in what kind of troubles he dragged him into or how much he bitched about things at times, passed out drunk or needed to be bailed and insensitively pulled his leg-- The 'ghost' remained by his side until the very end. Right from the very start, throughout the entire hellish craziness.

Sinbad had thought the man is just plain gullible, laughing off his faith in him and then moved on. Only to be astonished by the fierce loyalty later on, the humble but fiery spirit and quiet strength that he got to see; the witty sharp tongue and what a fiend the 'frail' night nymph is in action onto the battlefield, pitching in with his own strategies and ideas.

Unknowingly-little by little, that same allegedly naïve shorty became one of his pillars to draw courage and strength from. Find solace in during rough times.

His compass.

The thought of losing him, letting Pirin down is devastating.

—"I was, such a foolish idiot, taking you for granted." I won't make the same mistake again. "You're right--The tables have turned. And I can't imagine my life without you." Taking a moment to compose himself and get his thoughts sorted with a deep shuddering breath, Sinbad pulls back slightly to press his forehead against his partner's. A hopeful smile rests on his face.

If...the vampire rejects him, chooses to leave altogether, then..so be it.

At least he'd know the truth in full.

—"I know I'm making a tall order.. I get it if you refuse to hear me out on this one-And I'll respect your choice either way. I won't hold it against you." The moment of truth, huh? Sure is nerve-wracking. Mustering up all of his bravery, he finally forces himself to face his friend. Look him in the eye as just himself. Just, Sinbad. A flawed, knowledgeable, goofball of a man with his heart on his sleeve for once. Instead of running away from his desires like he's always done.

—"Can you give me one last chance, Vanya?"

There. Said it.

No answer. And then a small clawed had ruffles his hair harshly in a sign of playfulness, making it a far bigger mess than it already is. There's an affectionately amused grin in the shorter man's tone, the edge of feigned disapproving exasperation having no real bite as he mutters- "You really are something, alright."

Looking down at him with a sheepish grin, the sailor scratches the back of his head. Not quite sure what to make of this one.

—"So, uh- Is this a yes, or....?" What greets him, is a devious smirk quickly followed up by a brief peck to his lips as cold arms wrap around his neck and rest there casually. Tease.

—"Did I answer your question, Jolly sailor?" The silly nickname of endearment makes him smirk, certainly noticing how it thematically matches the one he gave. No doubt a playful nod to the Jolly sailor Bold shanty and their own respective backgrounds fitting with the story pretty well.

Everything considered, this incident wasn't such a misfortune eventually. Not bad at all. Maybe I should thank Atropine next time around. —"C'mere-" Hooking an arm under his love's back and under his knees, a small yelp slips from the doll as he hoists him up- It turns to a reserved giggle as he peppers his skin with kisses. The stubble on his chin tickles, causing the slimmer man to laugh, no longer able to stifle it.

Absolutely worth it, the way Pirin laughs-- It's music to his ears. Light, clear and ringing like windchimes softly jingling as they sway.

------------------------------------------------------------------------ 📑 Translations: ✒️ "Какви медени слова ми думаш.. Почти ти се вързах." - What honeyed words you're saying to me... I almost got fooled. ✒️ "Нямаш си на представа колко ме дразниш." - You have no idea how much you annoy me.

#afk journey #afk journey fanfic #fanfic #yandere scenario #oc #afk sinbad #tiny spice #reposted from ao3

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