You're swordsmen, it's different. You don't operate like normal people. [Um??? Brat.]
But I guess you're right. This is definitely one of the outcomes I least anticipated. [And you know he had allll kinds of terrible worst-case scenarios seconds after arriving here.
Koby hesitates as well before replying, seriously considering just letting Mihawk leave. But then:] What I want is to see you. If you're patient enough to wait, that is. And if you trust it'll be worth it.
You have your own sort of weird connection thing. You can almost kill each other and it's just a compliment you didn't ACTUALLY kill each other. I don't understand it at all.
[Koby has...no idea how to react to that. He'd anticipated being shot down, or at least griped at about having to wait to get laid. Something Mihawk had said -- your value is not based on what you can or can't do for others -- echoes back to him, but he shoves it away. He can't afford to think like that. It's never been true before, why would it be true now?
Instead, he packs up his supplies and starts back towards his room, pausing to scribble:] Maybe I want to. I can want THAT as much as you can. [You aren't the only one who's horny sometimes, Mihawk.]
It is about honor and integrity. He understands that better than most I have met who ignorantly swing about pathetic sticks they have found.
(He feels deeply about swords and swordsmanship. He actually almost gets into an entire speech about it but realizes that Koby probably wouldn't have too much interest.
Mihawk never prioritized sex in his life and even though Koby was addictive, he wasn't the sort of man to sulk over not getting off. He probably would have just wound up reading while Koby slept or rested.
He stares at the notebook, at Koby's response, and he realizes that Koby is young and maybe he did want it every time they were together. It makes enough sense, really. That seemed to be their arrangement so maybe an offer of time spent without it wasn't something on Koby's mind.
But really, he doesn't mind. It's fine.)
You do know saying words like 'fuck' or 'sex' won't get you in trouble, don't you?
That's exactly what I'm talking about. Who says things like "pathetic sticks"?
[Truthfully, Koby would be interested to hear that speech -- Mihawk's twice his age and probably has hundreds of fascinating stories. But that falls solely into the dangerous "doing things that aren't sex" category, which he is trying so staunchly to avoid.
Walking with his arms full makes responding difficult, but Koby does pause long enough to doodle something in response -- a drawing of himself, glasses and all, sticking his tongue out. Mature!
Then, several minutes later:] Can you get the door?
People who have seen what others consider to be swords.
(It's so offensive sometimes, Koby. Mihawk's tragic backstory is actually just dealing with shitty fighters and a lot of people who think they knew what it meant to be a swordsman.
This might inspire the slightest smile. He doesn't respond, mostly because he's tidying up Koby's room for an excuse to pass the time.
Only a few seconds after Koby sends his message, Mihawk is at the door, swinging it open. He's without his hat and without his cloak. Loose black trousers sitting low on bare hips. Are u sure you want that nap first-)
[Yes, Mihawk, you have the insurmountable burden of being the only person who really understands swords. Koby us so sympathetic.
His room could use it -- there are books and stacks of papers everywhere, mostly map fragments and lists of things people have asked for and potential places to supply them. There's also a detailed description of the healing ritual, and the mostly-untouched wine bottle of blood.
And then Koby's back, arms full of more papers, blinking at Mihawk for a moment. He'd expected him to be there, of course, but the lack of hat or cloak is...unexpected. Maybe it's the long day and how tired he is, but there's a brief, very warm smile on Koby's face as he steps into the room.]
Hi. [None of the clothes here fit right, all either too baggy or too fitted, so Koby's settled for a loose shirt that keeps falling off one shoulder or the other, and pants he has to pin at the top to keep from falling down. Not quite as impressive as Mihawk manages to make a simple pair of pants look.]
(Mihawk winds up just staring intensely back at Koby, his jaw clenching ever so slightly at the sight of that warm smile. Things would make more sense if Koby would just stop looking at him like that.
...And also if he started to wear more fitting clothes. Mihawk doesn't respond. He follows the line of Koby's exposed shoulder and then scales down. He reaches out and takes the papers from Koby and sets them aside. Silently, he reaches out and closes the door to lock it.
Then he proceeds to just. Pick Koby up right by the hips and bring their mouths together because Koby didn't need to eat or sleep first, he needed to maybe get undressed and then some first. Though who knows. Mihawk would probably stop if he's asked to.)
[Koby is genuinely exhausted -- he's been out mapping and checking in on people since early that morning. His hands are smudged with ink, his eyes are dry from staring intently at his notes, trying to make them fit together, his feet hurt from standing and walking so much.
And then, all of a sudden, he's being swept up into Mihawk's arms and none of that matters anymore. Koby forgets about being tired, or hungry, or wanting anything beyond his mouth sealed to Mihawk's, his hands coming up to cradle the older man's face, leaving smudges of ink. He hooks both legs over Mihawk's hips, presses forward against the warmth of his bare chest, kisses him deep and eager and hungry.
Even when they pull apart to breathe, Koby doesn't think about sleeping or eating. He takes a shaky breath, hands sliding down to rest on Mihawk's shoulders. There are dark shadows under his eyes, and he looks tired, but he's still got that warm, happy little smile on his face.
Again, softer:] Hi. [Unspoken: I missed you. I'm glad you stayed.]
(Koby looks good exhausted like this. Mihawk planned to thoroughly relax the cadet before he actually went to bed. He had an idea or two in mind and from the look of Koby's smile, he was already on the right path.)
Hello, dearest. How was work? (He drawls it with dripping sarcasm, yet there's something like sincerity there too. I was waiting for you. I missed you too. He kisses Koby back with just as much hunger, just as much depth. He moves them to the bed, lowering Koby down onto his back, and hovering over him. He kisses Koby a few more times on the mouth before he sits back onto his calves.
He takes off Koby's shoes, one after the other, then socks. Almost as if he knew, Mihawk stops for a moment to grind his thumb into the arch of Koby's foot, massaging deep.)
You chide me about my shirt and yet yours barely fit.
Shut up. [It's soft, no real heat behind it, especially not when followed up by more of those kisses. Koby had never really understood the appeal of kissing before, but he's also well aware that not everyone kisses like Mihawk does.
Propping himself up on his elbows, he watches in mild amusement at the removal of his (also ill-fitting) footwear. Usually Mihawk isn't this meticulous, and Koby wonders vaguely what his plans are. And then those skilled fingers are massaging deep into his aching foot and -- well, Mihawk's inspired some truly embarrassing sounds from Koby since their arrival, but the groan this prompts is near-pornographic.
And the young marine can't bring himself to care, too busy flopping back onto his back and surrendering entirely to the blissful feeling of Mihawk's clever hands banishing the aches from his feet.] That -- I didn't know you knew how to do that.
[Still on his back, Koby pushes his glasses up (a bad habit, they're going to get cracked one of these days) and rubs at his eyes.] Nothing ever fits me right. My shoulders aren't broad enough for most men's shirts, but my chest is too flat for any women's. [Also he has terrible posture, but he's in denial about that.]
(At this point he knows that Koby doesn't have much bite when it comes to telling him things like this. Granted, even if he did, Mihawk wouldn't be put off by it.
No, he wasn't, and truthfully, in the past when he slept with people, it was usually under rushed or short circumstances. There was never any reason or benefit to taking his time. He had nowhere to be tonight and Koby had insisted on him coming over anyway. And...if he's being honest...Those messages had been a pleasant surprise.
He scoffs quietly when Koby lets out that moan.)
It isn't exactly a complex skill.
(Any swordsman worth his weight should have strong fingers. Now that he knew Koby could do with a bit of a massage, he worked on the rest of the foot, rolling Koby's ankle. He hums while Koby talks, filing the information away. It made sense though. He can't imagine it was easy to find a cut for Koby's particular body.
He moves to the other foot, digging his thumb into the arch.)
You do have a wonderful chest.
(Sliding his thumb up the center of Koby's foot, he looks up at him, watching him rub at his eyes.)
I'm sure someone around here would be able to help you with that. I have heard making adjustments to loose clothes isn't too difficult.
[Koby let's out another soft groan, blinking hard a couple times and propping back up on his elbows. The glasses slide down after a moment and he nudges them back in place.] Still. It doesn't seem like something you'd just...know. Unless you give a lot of foot rubs, and I've misjudged you.
[The compliment has him blushing a little, tugging his shirt shoulder up with one hand.] I think you're a little biased.
...maybe. Jennifer sews, she mentioned. [Still, his expression is tense, a bit pinched.] I don't...know how she would react if I explained things. You're the only one here who knows.
cw: probably themes of transphobia and gender stuff moving forward
I haven't given any. (He lowers Koby's foot and begins to crawl up the bed, over Koby. He winds up resting his hand on Koby's chest and pushing him back down against the bed.)
Yes, that's how attraction tends to work. It doesn't make my compliment less valid.
(And to be difficult, he pushes the shoulder back off Koby's shoulder and leans down to kiss the slope where his neck slides into the shoulder. He's kissing softly, listening absently, but then Koby says the last part and he stops. It didn't exactly occur to him that Koby didn't go around telling him, but why would he? Mihawk certainly never walked around declaring his own gender.
He lifts his head to look at Koby properly. He has never discussed this sort of subject before and had never thought much about it, but he never thought about the lived experiences of others much. He was, at his core, mostly a selfish man. He shifts next to Koby, settling onto his side, resting his head into the palm of his own hand as he looks at him.)
Oh. [Maybe it's true, maybe not. That doesn't stop the little curl of warmth in Koby's chest at the words, the idea that Mihawk hasn't been this tender with many people.
He's more than ready to surrender to the soft touch of those lips on his neck, so relaxed from the massage that he doesn't feel the need to sleep anymore. But then Mihawk's pausing, moving away, and -- asking that question. And part of Koby wants to deflect, close the gap and move things back towards the physical. Back towards something simpler.
But...he's never talked about this. And Mihawk already knows very intimately what Koby's body is like. So...
Rolling onto his side, facing Mihawk, Koby tucks his arm under his head, echoing the other man's posture.] I didn't, really. I was one person for years and years, and then when I was old enough to get away, I just...stopped being that. I found a position on a fishing boat, cut my hair and tried to start a new life. [Somewhat flatly:] I got on the wrong boat. Alvida's boat. And then I was stuck.
[Koby hesitates, breaking eye contact for the first time.] She knew, too.
(Mihawk, like a fool, would deny it is a gesture of tenderness. He would argue it's just practical.
He wouldn't have forced Koby to answer. It wasn't any of Mihawk's business and if there was anything Mihawk could appreciate, it was not wanting to discuss the details of one's background. Many pirates escaped their past by fleeing to the sea. People in poverty, people with no family, people who felt aimless and didn't know where they were supposed to go or who they were supposed to be. It's a tale as old as time and no one owed you their backstory.
Mihawk included.
But then Koby begins to share and Mihawk listens intently in his way, his eyes unblinking, never looking away. Mihawk reaches a hand out, idly sliding his fingers through Koby's hair, twisting it around his finger.)
So few of us are lucky enough to be born exactly who we are meant to be. It takes work to get there and even fewer of us figure it out by the time we are- (How old is Koby again? Legal, he knows, but...)
Eighteen. Nineteen? You've done a better job of it than most.
(Alvida. He nearly rolled his eyes but didn't want it to be read the wrong way. He frowns at Koby looking away, the hesitance.)
I imagine she wasn't particularly accommodating. She isn't exactly known for understanding anyone's potential or value.
[Riiiight, totally practical tender foot massages. Very strategically sound.
The hand in his hair gets a brief pause before Koby closes his eyes, leans slightly into the touch. It's nice. He already knows he likes Mihawk's fingers in his hair, but usually there's a bit more...pulling involved. This is just more of that same gentleness. Part of Koby whispers that this could be a trap, but it's a much smaller part than even a couple days before.
The words are nice too, kinder than Koby anticipated. Mihawk's experience is drastically different, but there's a compassion present all the same. Compassion and a touch of...pride, even. He smiles, bemused.] Nineteen. Thank you. I'm assuming there are people who are... [Thirties? Forties?? Something??] ...older who haven't figured it out either.
[The way Koby draws in on himself, shoulders going tense speaks volumes -- he's grown a lot since Luffy rescued him, but Alvida still clearly has a hold on him.] She mostly used it as another way to control me. She'd threaten to tell the rest of the crew, then leave me locked in a room with them.
[Shaking his head, Koby moves closer, squeezing his eyes shut.] I don't want to think about her. Not here.
(Mihawk was merely being blunt. He so often saw the world plainly and to him, Koby was a young man. Nothing short of it. There was no trap to be had when Mihawk made his interest in Koby plainly. There was nothing here for him to gain from Koby or even the others, though they were all fairly on guard around him. He preferred it that way anyhow. He was not a man built for closeness.
He scarcely knew why he had taken such a closeness to Koby. He told himself it was because the sex was good and Koby was beautiful - it would be ridiculous to not indulge after they already had at the ritual.
The seal was broken so there was no going back anyway. May as well enjoy it while it lasted before Koby's morality reminded him that sleeping with a pirate and a warlord probably went against the grain for a marine.)
There are. (Some people just never had the right interactions or language or experiences.
His jaw tightens at the sight of Koby curling in on himself. He knew Koby had a habit of doing that, a poor posture that reflected a complete lack of self-esteem. Then Koby drops that information and something hostile and hot burns in Mihawk's chest. He has to force himself to relax.
He guides Koby into his chest, curling an arm around him, tight and secure. If they ever wound up back home, he would make quick work of Alvida. The world wouldn't miss her.)
That won't happen to you here. (It's a quiet promise. He won't say I'll keep you safe, but he may as well. He slides his hand up to curl it against the back of Koby's neck, squeezing gently.)
I will take care of your clothes. Think no more of it.
(He hesitates.)
And I will not speak of this to anyone. (He already wasn't the sort to brag about his sexual exploits, but this was different. It was up to Koby who he wanted to share such information with.)
Though, for what it is worth, Jennifer strikes me as the sort of girl who would treat you well regardless.
[The embrace isn't expected -- Koby knows better, he doesn't expect that sort of comfort, that gentleness from anyone. But Mihawk has been nothing but gentle to him, not just that night, but period. He's been flippant and careless and blunt, but not cruel. Not for an instant.
So when he tugs Koby to his chest, smooths a hand over the back of the young man's neck, there's no caution in the arm sliding around the warlord's waist, the nuzzle against his shoulder. Koby doesn't hesitate or flinch from Mihawk's touch, not anymore. He knows it's dangerous, that he's playing with fire and eventually it's just going to hurt him. Logically, he knows: Mihawk is going to end up dropping him when he gets bored. Politely, maybe even gently, but the end will come. This can't last forever.
But right then, it's real. Mihawk is holding him, stroking his hair, banishing the sick fear that comes up whenever Koby thinks too hard about his past -- or his future, for that matter. Mihawk doesn't let him live anywhere but the present, and Koby is shaken by what a gift that is.
So he presses closer, nods faintly at the reassurances and tries to savor the feeling of being held, protected, safe. His fingers absently trail down Mihawk's back, then settle at his hip, thumb stroking back and forth.] Thank you. I -- maybe I'll ask her. I'll work up to it.
[Then he huffs out a sheepish laugh, leaning back enough to look up, meet Mihawk's eyes.] Sorry. You're being so nice and I'm being -- gloomy and stupid. Tell me something you did today. Besides stand in the rain without a shirt.
(Naturally, Mihawk would reject any idea of him being gentle. He was practical, he was fair. He wasn't a recklessly cruel and thoughtlessly violent man like some pirates were known to be. He didn't enjoy bloodshed and suffering for the sake of it all. Well. At least not to the same extent as some. He did have something of a temper when things interrupted his peace. Interrupting a good nap was only fairly compensated with the life of dozens, obviously.
...So maybe he was being a little gentle. Hardly like he was going to think about that anytime soon. Especially not when Koby's body was warm and soft against his own, near enough to enjoy, and he did so want to enjoy. In truth, Mihawk thought similarly to Koby. This was a fling. Mihawk figured he would get bored of it as well one day and leave, and if not that, he figured that that boy Luffy would come to this world and snare Koby's attention entirely. Or some other blucky, high-spirited bastard with a cleaner background and better morals than Mihawk.
He knew that was the reality of what was happening. Whatever this was, they weren't soulmates and they were far from compatible in the long run. If it wasn't Mihawk who ended things, it would be Koby.
But for now, like Koby, it's hard to think about the rationale behind those beliefs. It's hard to feel like there might be a day when he didn't feel like holding Koby after a long day, rubbing his feet, and listening to his problems. It felt...
It felt like there was a point to be had.
For now, it was enough to hold and be held.)
Take your time with it. (There was no rush. He planned to get Koby well-fit clothes as soon as possible. He looks down in surprise when Koby laughs, and then says such an absurd thing that Mihawk almost looks irritated. He grabs Koby's jaw, holding it steadily.)
I'm not being nice. I'm being honest. And you are not being gloomy or stupid. You're being reasonable. There is nothing stupid about wanting basic respect.
(His words cut like a sword, probably a bit too heated, but damn it.)
You want to help people. You say so yourself all the time. Consider showing that same compassion to yourself, Koby.
(Gosh!!! He lets go of his chin at last, sighing, relaxing a bit now that he has said his piece.)
[There's the question, really -- when and if Luffy ever shows up, how would Koby explain this? Would he lean on the strange magic of this place, the ritual that led to this odd alliance? Would he dismiss it as purely physical, seeking comfort and entertainment wherever it could be found?
Or would he try to articulate the way it felt right then, curled up in Mihawk's arms, the way he smelled, the soft rumble of his voice, the way he stroked those deadly fingers through Koby's hair over and over. The way he gripped Koby's face and sternly told him to maybe be a little kinder to himself -- the only person in the world besides Luffy who'd ever suggested he deserved anything better.
Hundreds of men would've quailed under Mihawk's stern words, his intent golden gaze. Hundreds had. But Koby doesn't. He doesn't flinch or pull away or draw in on himself again. He just looks up at Mihawk with those big, intent eyes, open and heartfelt.] You aren't just being honest. You can deny it all you want, but I do know what kindness feels likd.
[Then, dragging his tongue over his lower lip in that thoughtful, anxious way he has, Koby adds:] I've never talked about these things with anyone. I don't know when it's too much, or when to stop. But it's...a relief, to say them. So. Thank you.
[And then, narrowing his eyes slightly in annoyance, Koby inches a bit closer, fingers trailing up Mihawk's side.] I'm being serious. You don't have to tell me all your...secret warlord business, but something. I'd like to hear about your day too.
(It's funny, in a way. Had Mihawk envisioned the ideal partner for himself, it would have been another man who could take him on in a fight. Who could be a complete equal; an exact reflection of his own talent, skill, and passion. He had spent his life wanting to be the best and once he became the best, he now spent it waiting impatiently for someone good enough to try and take that title from him. It was the only relationship he had ever cared about.
But now there was Koby. Koby who didn't even know how to throw a punch let alone wield a sword with a degree of expertise, even the most amateur, and who probably cared nothing for personal power. Yet Koby who, despite being smaller and weaker in every way to Mihawk, showed unwavering boldness and bravery. He didn't cower and back down from Mihawk, and didn't shiver because Mihawk looked at him a little too long.
For someone who spent so much of his life curled over on himself and wished to be unseen, Koby was so much braver than he gave himself credit for. Mihawk could understand why Garp had taken Koby directly under his wing. The potential was maddening.
Yet it wasn't just the future of who Koby could become that intrigued Mihawk. It was the boy in front of him now too. With those wide, earnest eyes that never failed to pin Mihawk more precisely than any sword ever had. He had taken blows that were less agonizingly aimed than this. He says nothing about his kindness, nothing about refusing it or trying to convince Koby otherwise.
Koby thought he was kind.
He watches Koby's tongue and it makes something burn hotter inside of Mihawk. Not just a want, but a fondness, which felt infinitely more dangerous.)
...It has not been too much. And you needn't stop. If you need to talk about these things, I will listen. Regardless of when.
(Every time. He shakes his head at the 'thank you' because there is nothing to provide thanks for. The corner of Mihawk's mouth twitches when Koby gets that telltale look of annoyance on his face. It has quickly become one of Mihawk's favorites.)
Secret warlord business.
(Said so seriously. He exhales shortly through his nose, a puff of amusement and nearly a laugh. He brings their mouths together briefly, because he has to, because Koby was licking his lip and looking so kissable it kind of ached. Mihawk breaks the kiss and settles against the bed, contemplating Koby and what he should say.)
Well. (There was no harm in some honesty, right?)
I am actually quite fond of agriculture. I have been working on a garden when I have the time and resources.
(Which suggests that he definitely lives somewhere out of the castle and maybe has his own place. That or he's just taken over some plot of land who even knows.)
I can't deny that the claw isn't useful for such things. It's rather effective in cutting down weeds.
[Maybe that's the heart of what keeps pulling Koby back here, curled up against Mihawk, watching the deadly grace of his movements, the slight shift of his expressions, learning to read what he'd been convinced was imperceptible -- the belief in what Koby could become, coupled with an appreciation for who he is. Maybe someday the scrawny, scared little pirate captive could become someone impressive, someone courageous and strong and fearsome -- anyone could, with the right training.
But Mihawk's here now. With every one of Koby's insecurities, every fear, every weakness, finding something appealing amidst them all. Kissing Koby like this, like there's something valuable already there. Like Koby himself can be enough.
It's too much to think about, too heavy and warm and painful for how exhausting the day has been. So Koby just leans up into that kiss, humming softly in something dangerously close to contentment. Then he settles, close enough now to share the pillow Mihawk's using, dangerously close to just resting his head on the warlord's shoulder.
That answer is -- unexpected. Very unexpected. Koby blinks a couple times, mouth opening around about forty different questions. A garden? Agriculture? Weed cutting?? Dracule Mihawk is cutting weeds in his free time???
But he wisely refrains, instead just tilting his head to one side, an action which sends that damn loose shirt sliding off his other shoulder, exposing his collarbone. A collarbone littered with marks from Mihawk himself, all vivid against Koby's skin. Totally an accident, of course, the shirt falling off. Definitely not a calculated attempt to get more garden knowledge via seduction.] What kind of garden?
(It's nearly amusing watching Koby gape at him like a fish and Mihawk doesn't offer him any sort of life vest. Then that damn shoulder drops and Mihawk's eyes drop with it. Koby was an absolute menace. Mihawk's mouth began to water and damn it all, it's an effective means of extracting information because Mihawk becomes absentminded in what he says:)
Mostly herbal. Looking for your flowers. And I have been looking for crops. Though the season likely won't take any of it now, it can still be prepared.
(The entire time he's talking, he's moving in on Koby and tucking his face into that delicious part of his body. He kisses over soft skin, leaving bites and sucking at the skin here and there to pepper Koby with fresh bruises. His hand slides down Koby's side and up his shirt.)
I see. [Koby nods very seriously, trying and failing to hide the bemused smile at Mihawk's eyes flicking to the completely-accidental wardrobe malfunction. His moment of feeling smug is short-lived, because then Mihawk's perfect, maddening mouth is on his neck, his shoulder, and it's soon very evident who's in control here.
Trying, as always, to stifle the needy, pleading sounds building in his throat, Koby manages a:] I-I think it's interesting-- [And then there's teeth teasing a particularly sensitive spot where his neck and shoulder meet, and Koby breaks off in a breathless moan.
Any exhaustion is completely forgotten, his whole body gone hot and needy and shivering, the way Mihawk always makes him. One of his hands slides down Mihawk's side, fingers ghosting under the low, loose waist of his pants. Recovering a bit, not willing to be wholly undone just yet, Koby turns to murmur, teasingly, against Mihawk's ear:] More interesting than swords, any day.
[Tfw your not!bf makes fun of your interests to be a brat.]
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But I guess you're right. This is definitely one of the outcomes I least anticipated. [And you know he had allll kinds of terrible worst-case scenarios seconds after arriving here.
Koby hesitates as well before replying, seriously considering just letting Mihawk leave. But then:] What I want is to see you. If you're patient enough to wait, that is. And if you trust it'll be worth it.
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(He definitely knows. He might not have known Koby for long, but he knew him well enough to figure it wasn't the easiest transition.
Ah.
Maybe this shouldn't be so surprising after all their shared messages.)
I can stay. It is worth it well enough on its own. You don't need to do anything additional.
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[Koby has...no idea how to react to that. He'd anticipated being shot down, or at least griped at about having to wait to get laid. Something Mihawk had said -- your value is not based on what you can or can't do for others -- echoes back to him, but he shoves it away. He can't afford to think like that. It's never been true before, why would it be true now?
Instead, he packs up his supplies and starts back towards his room, pausing to scribble:] Maybe I want to. I can want THAT as much as you can. [You aren't the only one who's horny sometimes, Mihawk.]
Be back in twenty minutes.
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(He feels deeply about swords and swordsmanship. He actually almost gets into an entire speech about it but realizes that Koby probably wouldn't have too much interest.
Mihawk never prioritized sex in his life and even though Koby was addictive, he wasn't the sort of man to sulk over not getting off. He probably would have just wound up reading while Koby slept or rested.
He stares at the notebook, at Koby's response, and he realizes that Koby is young and maybe he did want it every time they were together. It makes enough sense, really. That seemed to be their arrangement so maybe an offer of time spent without it wasn't something on Koby's mind.
But really, he doesn't mind. It's fine.)
You do know saying words like 'fuck' or 'sex' won't get you in trouble, don't you?
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[Truthfully, Koby would be interested to hear that speech -- Mihawk's twice his age and probably has hundreds of fascinating stories. But that falls solely into the dangerous "doing things that aren't sex" category, which he is trying so staunchly to avoid.
Walking with his arms full makes responding difficult, but Koby does pause long enough to doodle something in response -- a drawing of himself, glasses and all, sticking his tongue out. Mature!
Then, several minutes later:] Can you get the door?
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(It's so offensive sometimes, Koby. Mihawk's tragic backstory is actually just dealing with shitty fighters and a lot of people who think they knew what it meant to be a swordsman.
This might inspire the slightest smile. He doesn't respond, mostly because he's tidying up Koby's room for an excuse to pass the time.
Only a few seconds after Koby sends his message, Mihawk is at the door, swinging it open. He's without his hat and without his cloak. Loose black trousers sitting low on bare hips. Are u sure you want that nap first-)
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His room could use it -- there are books and stacks of papers everywhere, mostly map fragments and lists of things people have asked for and potential places to supply them. There's also a detailed description of the healing ritual, and the mostly-untouched wine bottle of blood.
And then Koby's back, arms full of more papers, blinking at Mihawk for a moment. He'd expected him to be there, of course, but the lack of hat or cloak is...unexpected. Maybe it's the long day and how tired he is, but there's a brief, very warm smile on Koby's face as he steps into the room.]
Hi. [None of the clothes here fit right, all either too baggy or too fitted, so Koby's settled for a loose shirt that keeps falling off one shoulder or the other, and pants he has to pin at the top to keep from falling down. Not quite as impressive as Mihawk manages to make a simple pair of pants look.]
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...And also if he started to wear more fitting clothes. Mihawk doesn't respond. He follows the line of Koby's exposed shoulder and then scales down. He reaches out and takes the papers from Koby and sets them aside. Silently, he reaches out and closes the door to lock it.
Then he proceeds to just. Pick Koby up right by the hips and bring their mouths together because Koby didn't need to eat or sleep first, he needed to maybe get undressed and then some first. Though who knows. Mihawk would probably stop if he's asked to.)
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And then, all of a sudden, he's being swept up into Mihawk's arms and none of that matters anymore. Koby forgets about being tired, or hungry, or wanting anything beyond his mouth sealed to Mihawk's, his hands coming up to cradle the older man's face, leaving smudges of ink. He hooks both legs over Mihawk's hips, presses forward against the warmth of his bare chest, kisses him deep and eager and hungry.
Even when they pull apart to breathe, Koby doesn't think about sleeping or eating. He takes a shaky breath, hands sliding down to rest on Mihawk's shoulders. There are dark shadows under his eyes, and he looks tired, but he's still got that warm, happy little smile on his face.
Again, softer:] Hi. [Unspoken: I missed you. I'm glad you stayed.]
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Hello, dearest. How was work? (He drawls it with dripping sarcasm, yet there's something like sincerity there too. I was waiting for you. I missed you too. He kisses Koby back with just as much hunger, just as much depth. He moves them to the bed, lowering Koby down onto his back, and hovering over him. He kisses Koby a few more times on the mouth before he sits back onto his calves.
He takes off Koby's shoes, one after the other, then socks. Almost as if he knew, Mihawk stops for a moment to grind his thumb into the arch of Koby's foot, massaging deep.)
You chide me about my shirt and yet yours barely fit.
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Propping himself up on his elbows, he watches in mild amusement at the removal of his (also ill-fitting) footwear. Usually Mihawk isn't this meticulous, and Koby wonders vaguely what his plans are. And then those skilled fingers are massaging deep into his aching foot and -- well, Mihawk's inspired some truly embarrassing sounds from Koby since their arrival, but the groan this prompts is near-pornographic.
And the young marine can't bring himself to care, too busy flopping back onto his back and surrendering entirely to the blissful feeling of Mihawk's clever hands banishing the aches from his feet.] That -- I didn't know you knew how to do that.
[Still on his back, Koby pushes his glasses up (a bad habit, they're going to get cracked one of these days) and rubs at his eyes.] Nothing ever fits me right. My shoulders aren't broad enough for most men's shirts, but my chest is too flat for any women's. [Also he has terrible posture, but he's in denial about that.]
flees 2 this at last
No, he wasn't, and truthfully, in the past when he slept with people, it was usually under rushed or short circumstances. There was never any reason or benefit to taking his time. He had nowhere to be tonight and Koby had insisted on him coming over anyway. And...if he's being honest...Those messages had been a pleasant surprise.
He scoffs quietly when Koby lets out that moan.)
It isn't exactly a complex skill.
(Any swordsman worth his weight should have strong fingers. Now that he knew Koby could do with a bit of a massage, he worked on the rest of the foot, rolling Koby's ankle. He hums while Koby talks, filing the information away. It made sense though. He can't imagine it was easy to find a cut for Koby's particular body.
He moves to the other foot, digging his thumb into the arch.)
You do have a wonderful chest.
(Sliding his thumb up the center of Koby's foot, he looks up at him, watching him rub at his eyes.)
I'm sure someone around here would be able to help you with that. I have heard making adjustments to loose clothes isn't too difficult.
EMBRACES
[The compliment has him blushing a little, tugging his shirt shoulder up with one hand.] I think you're a little biased.
...maybe. Jennifer sews, she mentioned. [Still, his expression is tense, a bit pinched.] I don't...know how she would react if I explained things. You're the only one here who knows.
cw: probably themes of transphobia and gender stuff moving forward
Yes, that's how attraction tends to work. It doesn't make my compliment less valid.
(And to be difficult, he pushes the shoulder back off Koby's shoulder and leans down to kiss the slope where his neck slides into the shoulder. He's kissing softly, listening absently, but then Koby says the last part and he stops. It didn't exactly occur to him that Koby didn't go around telling him, but why would he? Mihawk certainly never walked around declaring his own gender.
He lifts his head to look at Koby properly. He has never discussed this sort of subject before and had never thought much about it, but he never thought about the lived experiences of others much. He was, at his core, mostly a selfish man. He shifts next to Koby, settling onto his side, resting his head into the palm of his own hand as he looks at him.)
How did you handle it back home?
DEFS lmao
He's more than ready to surrender to the soft touch of those lips on his neck, so relaxed from the massage that he doesn't feel the need to sleep anymore. But then Mihawk's pausing, moving away, and -- asking that question. And part of Koby wants to deflect, close the gap and move things back towards the physical. Back towards something simpler.
But...he's never talked about this. And Mihawk already knows very intimately what Koby's body is like. So...
Rolling onto his side, facing Mihawk, Koby tucks his arm under his head, echoing the other man's posture.] I didn't, really. I was one person for years and years, and then when I was old enough to get away, I just...stopped being that. I found a position on a fishing boat, cut my hair and tried to start a new life. [Somewhat flatly:] I got on the wrong boat. Alvida's boat. And then I was stuck.
[Koby hesitates, breaking eye contact for the first time.] She knew, too.
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He wouldn't have forced Koby to answer. It wasn't any of Mihawk's business and if there was anything Mihawk could appreciate, it was not wanting to discuss the details of one's background. Many pirates escaped their past by fleeing to the sea. People in poverty, people with no family, people who felt aimless and didn't know where they were supposed to go or who they were supposed to be. It's a tale as old as time and no one owed you their backstory.
Mihawk included.
But then Koby begins to share and Mihawk listens intently in his way, his eyes unblinking, never looking away. Mihawk reaches a hand out, idly sliding his fingers through Koby's hair, twisting it around his finger.)
So few of us are lucky enough to be born exactly who we are meant to be. It takes work to get there and even fewer of us figure it out by the time we are- (How old is Koby again? Legal, he knows, but...)
Eighteen. Nineteen? You've done a better job of it than most.
(Alvida. He nearly rolled his eyes but didn't want it to be read the wrong way. He frowns at Koby looking away, the hesitance.)
I imagine she wasn't particularly accommodating. She isn't exactly known for understanding anyone's potential or value.
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The hand in his hair gets a brief pause before Koby closes his eyes, leans slightly into the touch. It's nice. He already knows he likes Mihawk's fingers in his hair, but usually there's a bit more...pulling involved. This is just more of that same gentleness. Part of Koby whispers that this could be a trap, but it's a much smaller part than even a couple days before.
The words are nice too, kinder than Koby anticipated. Mihawk's experience is drastically different, but there's a compassion present all the same. Compassion and a touch of...pride, even. He smiles, bemused.] Nineteen. Thank you. I'm assuming there are people who are... [Thirties? Forties?? Something??] ...older who haven't figured it out either.
[The way Koby draws in on himself, shoulders going tense speaks volumes -- he's grown a lot since Luffy rescued him, but Alvida still clearly has a hold on him.] She mostly used it as another way to control me. She'd threaten to tell the rest of the crew, then leave me locked in a room with them.
[Shaking his head, Koby moves closer, squeezing his eyes shut.] I don't want to think about her. Not here.
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He scarcely knew why he had taken such a closeness to Koby. He told himself it was because the sex was good and Koby was beautiful - it would be ridiculous to not indulge after they already had at the ritual.
The seal was broken so there was no going back anyway. May as well enjoy it while it lasted before Koby's morality reminded him that sleeping with a pirate and a warlord probably went against the grain for a marine.)
There are. (Some people just never had the right interactions or language or experiences.
His jaw tightens at the sight of Koby curling in on himself. He knew Koby had a habit of doing that, a poor posture that reflected a complete lack of self-esteem. Then Koby drops that information and something hostile and hot burns in Mihawk's chest. He has to force himself to relax.
He guides Koby into his chest, curling an arm around him, tight and secure. If they ever wound up back home, he would make quick work of Alvida. The world wouldn't miss her.)
That won't happen to you here. (It's a quiet promise. He won't say I'll keep you safe, but he may as well. He slides his hand up to curl it against the back of Koby's neck, squeezing gently.)
I will take care of your clothes. Think no more of it.
(He hesitates.)
And I will not speak of this to anyone. (He already wasn't the sort to brag about his sexual exploits, but this was different. It was up to Koby who he wanted to share such information with.)
Though, for what it is worth, Jennifer strikes me as the sort of girl who would treat you well regardless.
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So when he tugs Koby to his chest, smooths a hand over the back of the young man's neck, there's no caution in the arm sliding around the warlord's waist, the nuzzle against his shoulder. Koby doesn't hesitate or flinch from Mihawk's touch, not anymore. He knows it's dangerous, that he's playing with fire and eventually it's just going to hurt him. Logically, he knows: Mihawk is going to end up dropping him when he gets bored. Politely, maybe even gently, but the end will come. This can't last forever.
But right then, it's real. Mihawk is holding him, stroking his hair, banishing the sick fear that comes up whenever Koby thinks too hard about his past -- or his future, for that matter. Mihawk doesn't let him live anywhere but the present, and Koby is shaken by what a gift that is.
So he presses closer, nods faintly at the reassurances and tries to savor the feeling of being held, protected, safe. His fingers absently trail down Mihawk's back, then settle at his hip, thumb stroking back and forth.] Thank you. I -- maybe I'll ask her. I'll work up to it.
[Then he huffs out a sheepish laugh, leaning back enough to look up, meet Mihawk's eyes.] Sorry. You're being so nice and I'm being -- gloomy and stupid. Tell me something you did today. Besides stand in the rain without a shirt.
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...So maybe he was being a little gentle. Hardly like he was going to think about that anytime soon. Especially not when Koby's body was warm and soft against his own, near enough to enjoy, and he did so want to enjoy. In truth, Mihawk thought similarly to Koby. This was a fling. Mihawk figured he would get bored of it as well one day and leave, and if not that, he figured that that boy Luffy would come to this world and snare Koby's attention entirely. Or some other blucky, high-spirited bastard with a cleaner background and better morals than Mihawk.
He knew that was the reality of what was happening. Whatever this was, they weren't soulmates and they were far from compatible in the long run. If it wasn't Mihawk who ended things, it would be Koby.
But for now, like Koby, it's hard to think about the rationale behind those beliefs. It's hard to feel like there might be a day when he didn't feel like holding Koby after a long day, rubbing his feet, and listening to his problems. It felt...
It felt like there was a point to be had.
For now, it was enough to hold and be held.)
Take your time with it. (There was no rush. He planned to get Koby well-fit clothes as soon as possible. He looks down in surprise when Koby laughs, and then says such an absurd thing that Mihawk almost looks irritated. He grabs Koby's jaw, holding it steadily.)
I'm not being nice. I'm being honest. And you are not being gloomy or stupid. You're being reasonable. There is nothing stupid about wanting basic respect.
(His words cut like a sword, probably a bit too heated, but damn it.)
You want to help people. You say so yourself all the time. Consider showing that same compassion to yourself, Koby.
(Gosh!!! He lets go of his chin at last, sighing, relaxing a bit now that he has said his piece.)
I stood inside without a shirt. (Smarmy bastard.)
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Or would he try to articulate the way it felt right then, curled up in Mihawk's arms, the way he smelled, the soft rumble of his voice, the way he stroked those deadly fingers through Koby's hair over and over. The way he gripped Koby's face and sternly told him to maybe be a little kinder to himself -- the only person in the world besides Luffy who'd ever suggested he deserved anything better.
Hundreds of men would've quailed under Mihawk's stern words, his intent golden gaze. Hundreds had. But Koby doesn't. He doesn't flinch or pull away or draw in on himself again. He just looks up at Mihawk with those big, intent eyes, open and heartfelt.] You aren't just being honest. You can deny it all you want, but I do know what kindness feels likd.
[Then, dragging his tongue over his lower lip in that thoughtful, anxious way he has, Koby adds:] I've never talked about these things with anyone. I don't know when it's too much, or when to stop. But it's...a relief, to say them. So. Thank you.
[And then, narrowing his eyes slightly in annoyance, Koby inches a bit closer, fingers trailing up Mihawk's side.] I'm being serious. You don't have to tell me all your...secret warlord business, but something. I'd like to hear about your day too.
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But now there was Koby. Koby who didn't even know how to throw a punch let alone wield a sword with a degree of expertise, even the most amateur, and who probably cared nothing for personal power. Yet Koby who, despite being smaller and weaker in every way to Mihawk, showed unwavering boldness and bravery. He didn't cower and back down from Mihawk, and didn't shiver because Mihawk looked at him a little too long.
For someone who spent so much of his life curled over on himself and wished to be unseen, Koby was so much braver than he gave himself credit for. Mihawk could understand why Garp had taken Koby directly under his wing. The potential was maddening.
Yet it wasn't just the future of who Koby could become that intrigued Mihawk. It was the boy in front of him now too. With those wide, earnest eyes that never failed to pin Mihawk more precisely than any sword ever had. He had taken blows that were less agonizingly aimed than this. He says nothing about his kindness, nothing about refusing it or trying to convince Koby otherwise.
Koby thought he was kind.
He watches Koby's tongue and it makes something burn hotter inside of Mihawk. Not just a want, but a fondness, which felt infinitely more dangerous.)
...It has not been too much. And you needn't stop. If you need to talk about these things, I will listen. Regardless of when.
(Every time. He shakes his head at the 'thank you' because there is nothing to provide thanks for. The corner of Mihawk's mouth twitches when Koby gets that telltale look of annoyance on his face. It has quickly become one of Mihawk's favorites.)
Secret warlord business.
(Said so seriously. He exhales shortly through his nose, a puff of amusement and nearly a laugh. He brings their mouths together briefly, because he has to, because Koby was licking his lip and looking so kissable it kind of ached. Mihawk breaks the kiss and settles against the bed, contemplating Koby and what he should say.)
Well. (There was no harm in some honesty, right?)
I am actually quite fond of agriculture. I have been working on a garden when I have the time and resources.
(Which suggests that he definitely lives somewhere out of the castle and maybe has his own place. That or he's just taken over some plot of land who even knows.)
I can't deny that the claw isn't useful for such things. It's rather effective in cutting down weeds.
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But Mihawk's here now. With every one of Koby's insecurities, every fear, every weakness, finding something appealing amidst them all. Kissing Koby like this, like there's something valuable already there. Like Koby himself can be enough.
It's too much to think about, too heavy and warm and painful for how exhausting the day has been. So Koby just leans up into that kiss, humming softly in something dangerously close to contentment. Then he settles, close enough now to share the pillow Mihawk's using, dangerously close to just resting his head on the warlord's shoulder.
That answer is -- unexpected. Very unexpected. Koby blinks a couple times, mouth opening around about forty different questions. A garden? Agriculture? Weed cutting?? Dracule Mihawk is cutting weeds in his free time???
But he wisely refrains, instead just tilting his head to one side, an action which sends that damn loose shirt sliding off his other shoulder, exposing his collarbone. A collarbone littered with marks from Mihawk himself, all vivid against Koby's skin. Totally an accident, of course, the shirt falling off. Definitely not a calculated attempt to get more garden knowledge via seduction.] What kind of garden?
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Mostly herbal. Looking for your flowers. And I have been looking for crops. Though the season likely won't take any of it now, it can still be prepared.
(The entire time he's talking, he's moving in on Koby and tucking his face into that delicious part of his body. He kisses over soft skin, leaving bites and sucking at the skin here and there to pepper Koby with fresh bruises. His hand slides down Koby's side and up his shirt.)
Nothing interesting.
(At least not as interesting as Koby's body.)
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Trying, as always, to stifle the needy, pleading sounds building in his throat, Koby manages a:] I-I think it's interesting-- [And then there's teeth teasing a particularly sensitive spot where his neck and shoulder meet, and Koby breaks off in a breathless moan.
Any exhaustion is completely forgotten, his whole body gone hot and needy and shivering, the way Mihawk always makes him. One of his hands slides down Mihawk's side, fingers ghosting under the low, loose waist of his pants. Recovering a bit, not willing to be wholly undone just yet, Koby turns to murmur, teasingly, against Mihawk's ear:] More interesting than swords, any day.
[Tfw your not!bf makes fun of your interests to be a brat.]
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i can't believe they invented love
LITERALLY i'm literally feral abt them
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a mile long of pining lmao
put that tag in the moma tbqh
Re: put that tag in the moma tbqh
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