[There's a thoughtful nod, but it's been a long day, so even Koby's insistent need to know everything, all the time isn't as strong as usual. He can find out later, can ask a million questions and start harassing the Witches to see if they can get it back.
Oh, called out. Koby's ears turn pink and he scowls deeper, because Mihawk is definitely not going to believe that he hasn't been spying. In fact, Mihawk probably knew damn well Koby was there, once or twice. Or three times. Or -- he has a routine, okay, and it happens to take him past the dumb remote field where they train shirtless. How is that his fault?
But he doesn't have time to dwell on it, because Mihawk says that and Koby's abruptly sitting upright, a flash of genuine hurt on his face. It's raw, unguarded, a brief glimpse of just how deep his feelings go. He wants to -- yell, demand an explanation for why Mihawk would think that, why he assumes this (they) is inevitably doomed to failure.
Yet -- Koby had already left Mihawk, recently enough that it's still clearly an open wound. Of course. Of course. His shoulders drop a little, the aching pain disappearing from those big, sad eyes, replaced with a solemn resignation.] I...can't blame you for thinking that way. I haven't exactly shown you otherwise yet.
[A slow exhale, then Koby reaches out, setting his hands on either side of Mihawk's face, very gently.] So I have to...ask you to wait and see, again. Give me a chance to prove it. That I don't want to go anywhere. That I won't.
(He most definitely has. It is hard for him to not be aware of Koby's presence and the pink hair really didn't help him. He didn't mind it though. If he knew Koby was out training with someone, he would likely be stopping by as well to stalk and assess the situation. For science.
Mihawk watches him sit up sharply, watches that look of hurt, and again, he feels another dull pulse of guilt. It's not an emotion he's familiar with and he immediately decides he doesn't like it in the slightest. A small part of him wants to assure Koby, but it would be a lie to act like anything else was the truth.)
You did just spend quite a bit of time going on about how much his approval means, yes.
(And just- looking like he does whenever he talks about Luffy. Which. It's fine. Totally fine that Koby is close with other people. Mihawk believed Koby should be close to other people. Koby deserved friends and nice things. He does have to clench his jaw again because it feels unnatural to not rush to comfort Koby when he has that upset look on his face.
He doesn't expect Koby to reach out to him, to cup his face. The gesture catches him off guard enough that his eyes widen marginally. He softens again and slides a hand over one of Koby's, turning his face to kiss the inside of Koby's wrist.)
We're friends. [And -- yes, at one time, Luffy had meant everything to Koby, a mixture of worship and affection and gratitude that was more potent than anything he'd ever felt. It had been enough to have him standing up to Garp, the first step in a very long, exhausting journey that had brought him where he was then -- sitting in Mihawk's lap, hands on his face, watching his stony expression for the telltale signs that it seems like only Koby knows. If not for Luffy, he wouldn't be here. Koby doesn't know how not to light up when talking about him.] It'd be nice to have his approval, but...
[A pause, thumb stroking over the swirling, intricate edge of Mihawk's beard.] If he tells me I shouldn't keep seeing you, I'll tell him he's wrong. [And hopefully Luffy will listen. Hopefully it won't end in Koby having to choose. He can't let himself think that it might all be for nothing, that he might be doomed, otherwise he'll want to give up before he even starts.
Mihawk kisses his wrist, and some of the anxiety is gone. Koby smiles, soft and sleepy and affectionate.] One second. [Then he leans forward, presses his lips to Mihawk's forehead, gentle and fervent at the same time, unbearable tenderness in the gesture.] Okay. Don't want you to catch a cold. [Right, because Mihawk's the one in danger of that.]
Yes, I'm incredibly aware. (Mihawk was also aware of the situation too. He knew what Luffy had done for Koby, and he wouldn't blame Koby if he wasn't still quite over that. It didn't take away the mild sting though. Everything was fresh from the sacrifice, but also the arrival of Shanks, and now Luffy. Mihawk was feeling a bit ground down on all sides and he missed the familiarity of his sword, his regular powers, and now, the control over his own body and emotions.
He wasn't the sort to admit it, but he was running on a thin line. He wouldn't describe himself as hopeless either. His realism was just bordering more on pessimism right about now.
It felt like for the first time in...Well, maybe since he was a child or a teenager, he had lost in some way.)
All right. (Mihawk isn't so sure how that will go. Although, truthfully, he can't imagine Luffy was the sort of person who would demand Koby choose anyway. After all, the boy let Koby chase after his dream of being a marine without ruining their friendship. So.)
For what it's worth, I don't think he will tell you that. He seems to be an advocate for people going after what they want even if it contradicts his own dreams.
(He really didn't hate Luffy. And he didn't hate what he's done for Koby. Part of him does want to comfort Koby because he didn't want Koby to worry so much about it either - even if Mihawk wasn't so positive or sold on everything, that didn't mean he had to fill Koby's head up with insecure jibes that Mihawk didn't even believe. Uncomfortable or not, he was always going to be honest with Koby.
He didn't want Koby to think his friend would abandon him after everything he has done for him. He doesn't like how Koby lights up thinking about him, but he didn't want there to be a reason that thinking on Luffy made him sad either.
At the end of the day, it was just like back at the sacrifice. He wanted Koby to do what he wanted. He wanted Koby to go after his dreams and do what felt right to him. Mihawk would never stand in the way of that. Even if that dream wound up not including him at all.
He knew he had never made Shanks light up that way either. Some part of him grappled with the fact that this was merely the outcome of the life he had led and he had no right to be bitter about it. He said he was fine on his own so he should be fine on his own.
He doesn't even realize he has a headache until Koby is kissing his forehead and he feels the slightest pulse of relief. Luffy or Shanks or sacrifices or not - he did know how he felt about Koby. Koby who worried about him catching a cold. He scoffs.)
Honestly.
(He's never caught a cold in his life. He grabs Koby then, and stands up out of the tub, holding Koby in a classic bridal pose. He undoes the drain and steps out of the tub, sighing.)
That was less sexy than I had envisioned. (The tragedy of being emo. He sets Koby on the edge of his bathroom counter and reaches for two fluffy black towels. He wraps one around his waist before getting to work on patting Koby dry beeecause he can!)
You're probably right. [Koby smiles wryly, a little self-deprecating.] But who would I be if I didn't worry anyway?
[Then he quiets, watching the tiny shifts in Mihawk's expression, the tightening of his jaw, the faraway look in his eye. There's more there than his and Luffy's history -- something deeper, older, something that Mihawk clearly doesn't want to talk about. Koby is desperately curious, but he can sense the weight of whatever it is, and wisely bites his lower lip and says nothing.
If Mihawk wants to say it, he will, eventually. Despite being obviously the stronger, more dominant one in this -- thing of theirs, Mihawk has let Koby take the lead in every actual decision, all the way back to the fireside ritual. Part of Koby is relieved by this, by the sense of control it gives him, but sometimes...he wishes Mihawk would ask things. Material comforts aside, Koby doesn't think Mihawk's very good at making requests. Even someone with a very high opinion of themselves can have low self-esteem in specific areas.
Still, there's visible exhaustion in the man's furrowed brow, the slight tension of his shoulders as Koby holds onto his neck. Now is not the time to get into a conversation as complex as their self-image issues. Koby smooths his thumb along Mihawk's jaw, soothingly, fretting a bit.] You look tired. Do you need any food before we go to bed?
[The comment makes Koby laugh, obligingly letting Mihawk towel him dry. Well, sort of -- he does make a nuisance of himself by stroking and petting the man's now-clean, fluffy wolf ears.] We can always try again when we're less tired. [Nuzzling one ear now, kissing the pointed tip, he murmurs:] Seeing you all wet and soapy was nice, though. Definitely my favorite part.
(Mihawk didn't know how to talk to people about things. He never had and had never thought he would. It's true. He didn't ask things, didn't ask for help, didn't vocalize anything of the sort. Mostly he figured he could do things on his own. Whatever this thing between them was, it was only beginning to build better habits. Even if it didn't exactly feel like that right now.
It's nice to be soothed by Koby. Some of that tension relaxes and he decides he's done enough sulking for the past twenty-four-hours. Koby's fretting was sweet as ever and he relaxed even further at hearing his laugh.)
No, I'm fine. Do you need anything?
(He's pretty sure he ate a whole lot of something as a wolf and was still feeling that. His ears flick about on his head at the attention, and then Koby is nuzzling his ear, kissing it, and it's actually too much! The tragedy of wolf ears meant that he no longer blushed in the tips of his ears, but now, he blushed a bit across the bridge of his nose, an unfamiliar burning.)
I could say the same. (He reluctantly pulls away from Koby and removes his own towel because it just wasn't cutting it. He had to...He had to...
Mihawk proceeds to shake himself like a dog. Sorry, Koby, you're getting some spray back. He scrubs at his hair with one of the towels and then moves it to dry off his tail. Koby now gets to finally see the sight of a Mihawk without his hair slicked back. His hair is spiked and a bit long, and truthfully, he looks younger with his hair down. Maybe even softer. Mihawk pulls his towel away from his tail, approving of its dryness at last.)
Please tell me I don't smell like a wet dog. (Oh god.............
Thankfully he doesn't although his musky scent was a bit stronger.)
[Oh yeah, the ears are going to become a thing -- they're so soft, fluffy and plush at the bases with velvety-fine fur in the delicate hollows. And they're clearly sensitive, twitching and flicking under Koby's gentle attention. He's ready to tease more, see just how flustered it makes Mihawk, when he steps back. Left on the counter, Koby is unaware of the imminent danger, beginning to reply:] No, I ate before I--
[And then Mihawk is shaking himself off, spraying water all over and Koby's words break off in a squawk as the droplets splatter his glasses, his face again. He's about to lecture, about to get huffy, reaching up and furiously toweling off the lenses. But then he sees Mihawk's hair, loose and soft and tumbling around his face, pointed ears pricked in the middle, tail curling sleek and powerful, and of course the now-familiar splendor of his bare chest, his shoulders, his legs and stomach.
And Koby's seen Mihawk naked several times now. But something is different about this, the wolf features and the just-drying hair and the now-clean trail of fur down Mihawk's lean stomach. It's oddly vulnerable, like Koby's finally seeing behind the constantly put-together persona, like he's really seeing Mihawk for the first time.
His breath catches in his throat, and for a moment he can't speak. When he does, what he means to say is something about Mihawk smelling perfectly fine. What he does say is:] You're beautiful.
(It seemed as though every time they were together, more walls came down even as Mihawk was convinced he was putting more up. Even tonight, despite the uncomfortable conversation, it was a more upfront and vulnerable conversation than he was used to. Acknowledging problems. Talking about...insecurities even if they hadn't been directly referred to as such. Turning his back to Koby.
He may be uncertain about their future, but he wasn't uncertain about Koby. Koby who was staring at him in that way, Koby who was looking at him like it was the first time he'd ever seen another person before. Mihawk's eyes are narrowed, but there's no anger in him. He's curious about that look, about what exactly is running through Koby's mind.
Then that comes out and Mihawk's head jerks back absently, surprise open on his face. Excuse you?!
A bit of heat fills back into his face but this time a healthy flush crawls into his chest too. Maybe it was the wolf's blood running far hotter, or maybe it was because no one alive had the audacity to call him things like beautiful - at least not to his face.
To someone who knew less, they might think he was looking at Koby with murderous intent, but really, it was just a moment of overwhelming emotion. He moves forward in a rush, grabbing Koby by his face and bringing their mouths together in a fierce sort of kiss. Every unsaid thing burned through the kiss.
Then he's pulling away in an embarrassed fashion, strolling out of the bathroom swiftly.)
[Even a month ago, saying something that soft, that audaciously romantic would've immediately prompted Koby to stammer and backtrack, blushing furiously and apologizing for his forwardness. But instead he just sits there, gazing at Mihawk like he hung the stars, the moon, like he's singlehandedly responsible for every good thing in the world.
He knows that expression, but he's only ever seen glimpses of it in the most intense, heated moments he and Mihawk have had, and then only in passing. Now it stays, oddly softened by Mihawk's loose hair, the flush across his nose, the soft, pointed wolf ears. Koby finally manages to do something other than stare openly, a small smile curling across his face just as Mihawk leans forward and kisses him hard, ferocious.
There's a bright, delighted laugh as Mihawk strides out of the bathroom, and Koby's already calling after him:] You should be resting, you know. [But of course, when he joins Mihawk a few moments later, he's wearing the strawberry-print panties as directed, sitting low on his hips, clingy and silky and hiding absolutely nothing.]
I rested earlier. You did suggest I eat something.
(Mihawk, he didn't mean that!
He's waiting for Koby. The moment he steps into view, Mihawk is growling appreciatively. An actual growl, something feral and animalistic. He really didn't appreciate this properly earlier.)
Oh. I do love how those look on you.
(He's waiting for Koby, standing over him, but now that Koby is near again...He gets the strongest instinct to just...
Get down onto his knees. Which he does in one fluid motion. His hands slide up the backs of Koby's thighs.)
[But Koby doesn't have it in him to argue, not when Mihawk's looking at him like that, all hunger and raw, animal desire. He's slowly getting used to Mihawk's intense gaze, but the new wolf traits bring it to another level entirely. It thrills that new, animal-like part of Koby, terrifying and compelling all at once.
And then Mihawk goes down on his knees. And Koby's left breathless again, by the act of it, the show of submission from someone so huge, so powerful. He reaches out immediately, slides his fingers through Mihawk's hair, curling them through the loose strands. Then, tongue sliding across his lower lip in that unerring cue of how much he's enjoying something, Koby tugs firmly on Mihawk's hair, prompting him to look upwards.]
Good. I'm glad you like them. [There's a strange glint in his eyes, something almost -- possessive, free hand slowly reaching out to stroke along Mihawk's face, cradle his cheek. Koby's teased Mihawk before -- it's one of his favorite things, actually -- but he's never been this dominant in bed before. It's...kind of nice, having Mihawk on his knees, looking upwards, like a good boy.
That thought has Koby blushing immediately, ears and nose and cheeks. He clears his throat, runs a thumb along the ruffled elastic.] I liked these best. No daisy ones though. [Daisies are his favorite.]
(He obediently lets Koby tug on his hair to pull his head back. He's already let his hair down and shown his back to Koby tonight. Why not let him have it all? He already did, practically.
He gazes up at Koby with half-lidded eyes, something warm simmering through him. This was a new angle entirely and he finds that he loves looking up at Koby from his knees. Why had it taken so long to get here again? Never the occasion for it, he supposed. He had always taken the reigns and dominated every time they rolled into bed.
The sight of Koby's blush rouses a smug smirk, as if Mihawk could read his mind. He leans forward, humming, pressing his face against Koby's crotch. He breathes him in and having that deeper appreciation of scents is doing something completely new to his body. He winds up nuzzling in deep, rumbling low in his throat. Daises. What do daisies have to do with anything again?
His tongue slides out over the material, and Koby might find that his tongue was a bit different now too. Thicker, longer. He doesn't push past the material, but mouths at Koby. His instincts were screaming to claim and mark Koby as his. Any dread about Luffy or Shanks or their life back home was completely gone from his mind.)
[That look -- a mixture of heated desire and adoration -- is one Koby's going to remember for the rest of his life. His thumb traces the shape of Mihawk's lower lip, near-reverently, before both hands slide into the loose, slightly damp hair, holding on for stability. Because the second Mihawk's mouth is pressed to the thin, gauzy fabric, Koby's knees go weak, buckling a little, a shuddery gasp escaping him.]
That's -- different. [The tongue he means, the size, the texture, the heat. It has Koby's stomach going tight, heat coursing through his body, pooling right where Mihawk's tongue is soaking through the fabric. He's shivering at how much he wants it, how every sense feels heightened, intensified.
Koby's blunt nails dig deeper into Mihawk's hair, and he breathes out, without pausing to think:] Wonder what else is different about you now?
(A growl vibrates through his throat and into his tongue in answer to that question. We'll just have to find out. He can't be bothered to pull away because he had thought he loved Koby's pussy before, but now, he was already achingly hard and half drunk on the smell and taste of it. Something insatiable grows in him in a split second and then he just snaps.
He winds up ripping away at Koby's panties, tearing the delicate fabric easily. His hands go to grip Koby's hips after, holding him up. He proceeds to slide that new tongue of his into the deepest part of Koby without any real effort. He could never get that deep with his regular tongue, but this one...
Then he just goes at Koby. He's drinking everything up, pumping his tongue in and out of Koby like he was something worth lapping at. There's an unhinged vigor, like he was a man starved who just discovered a feast and didn't know where to start. His eyes were starting to glow bright and his hands gripping Koby so hard they would no doubt leave marks. Again.)
[The panties were nice while they lasted, but if the two options are wearing them or having Mihawk's -- longer, thicker, somehow even more talented -- tongue buried in his cunt, Koby knows what's going to win every single time. He gasps thickly, clutching at Mihawk's hair, bucking his hips forward, against that wicked wonderful tongue.
There are going to be bruises all around his hips, and Koby doesn't even remotely care, too busy riding the slick heat of Mihawk's tongue, knees going weak, breath coming in shuddery moans. The angle is brand new -- usually he's on his back when Mihawk eats him out -- and it's only that firm grip on his waist that keeps him upright.]
Good, so, s-so good... [Koby's gasping out, nails grazing the bases of Mihawk's ears, looking down at him with adoration and want and fondness. He's absolutely soaked against Mihawk's tongue, shivery pleasure through his whole body and the next words just sort of tumble out:] You're being so good for me.
(They could always get more later. Once Mihawk came to his less horny senses, he would look into finding some daisy pattern things for Koby. Mihawk is absolutely relishing in Koby, both his taste and the way he sounds above him. He loves the texture of Koby, sweeping his tongue faster through him until his own cheeks were dripping and a bit of Koby's wetness had dripped down his own chin.
Being called good gets a solid wag from his tail and he huddles up closer against Koby. He somehow grips him harder and tongue-fucks him even deeper. This time he keeps his mouth clamped on Koby and just twists his tongue around inside of him. He licks alone his walls, curls his tongue, and flicks it back and forth. He lets out a low whining noise, huffing quietly because holy fuck was he hard.
But he was intent on getting Koby off first. Maybe a soft apology for being so miserable earlier. He slides his tongue slowly out of Koby before sweeping it up over his lips, around his clit, and sucks on that spot for a long moment, just pushing his tongue against it again and again before he's back to driving his tongue into Koby. He really couldn't get enough of it right now.)
[Honestly, at this point Koby's forgotten his own name, much less the purpose of clothing. The only thing that exists is the relentless deep thrusts of Mihawk's tongue, hot and slick and so, so damn eager. Granted, he's never really lacked motivation when it came to getting his mouth on Koby, but this is a completely new level of intensity, possibly spurred on by the canine instincts?
Who knows -- there's not room for anything except Koby's hands clutching at Mihawk's hair, his voice high and needy and sharp, begging or praising or somewhere in between. The grip on his hips is the one thing that keeps him upright when he finally comes with a shattered moan, shamelessly rutting against Mihawk's mouth, soaking his chin and beard once again, because apparently that's going to become a habit.
Feeling untethered, shaky, and not at all sated, Koby tugs hard at Mihawk's hair, breath raspy, eyes heated and dark and hungry.] Bed. R-Right now. [It's a command, skirting close to that compulsion and just barely holding back -- no time for teasing, he needs Mihawk inside him right that fucking second.]
(There is almost a ferocious growl when he's interrupted by Koby's hard tug. He likes that tug though, and by now, his cock is absolutely throbbing between his legs. He jerks his head back to glower up at Koby as if he was annoyed at having to stop his indulgence.
But then he realizes........
Maybe it's not so bad. He stands up and as he does, he just picks Koby up with him. Who needed to walk when your boyfriend could whisk you around as though you weighed absolutely nothing? He manhandles Koby onto the bed and immediately puts Koby on his stomach. Which is unusual for them, but he had some instincts going against his usual desire to stare Koby down while they fucked. Besides...
Koby does look lovely from behind. He lifts him up onto his knees and within seconds, his cock is sliding in deep, and as Koby had theorized, Mihawk was different here too. He was hotter, bigger, thicker. He growls again, hooking an arm around Koby's waist, curling protectively around his back as he begins to thrust into Koby.)
[The way Mihawk snarls, the way he looks up with those ferociously stormy eyes is pure predator, reminding Koby just how intensely dangerous this man is. But he isn't afraid -- not now, not after this long, not with the aftershocks of his first climax still shuddering through his body. He just smiles giddily, almost drunkenly, lets his fingers go loose in Mihawk's hair, doesn't resist when they're both swept towards the bed.
The position isn't a normal one, aside from a few times bent over the desk or the edge of the bed -- when there wasn't much time, back at the beginning. These days Mihawk tends to linger, take his time taking Koby apart, watching him shudder to pieces spread out on the blankets. But that doesn't make this angle any less preferable -- elbows and knees, Mihawk's warm weight at his back, the familiar press of his cock sliding through the mess he's made.
And then -- also new, different, bigger and thicker and part of Koby wants to pull away and turn around and see what, exactly, is different about Mihawk's cock, because he's deeply attached to that part of him, okay. But the depth is wonderful, the stretch, the burn almost like the first time, and Koby just drops his forehead against the blankets with a whimpering, broken sound, back arching hard, hips lifting back to meet each thrust. He can examine the nuances later -- what matters right now is that it's Mihawk, inside him, where he's supposed to be. Where he belongs.
One hand reaches back, shakily, finds the back of Mihawk's neck, trembling fingers squeezing -- one. Two. Three. Resting there, like even when actively fucking him, Mihawk isn't close enough. Like Koby needs to hold onto him, even now.]
(Mihawk knew Koby could handle him. If it were their first time, he might have been a bit more cautious. He would have restrained himself more just to make sure he didn't split Koby apart in a bad way. But he knew Koby's body thoroughly and he knew Koby thoroughly. He knew he could handle far more than anyone would probably give him credit for.
The pulsing squeeze on his neck makes Mihawk freeze against Koby for a moment and he knows, he knows damn well what that means because he knew what he meant when he did it earlier in the bathroom. He knew Koby knew what it meant. Neither of them were stupid and for a second, he's seized with the wild desire to just-
No, from behind wasn't going to do after all.
He slides out of Koby only so he can flip him around and bring their mouths together hard. He's back inside Koby a second later, pulling one leg up to get a deeper angle. He wanted to be as close and personal with Koby, his tongue melting into his mouth. One hand goes into Koby's hair and he's soon fucking him in fluid motions against the mattress, relentless in his pace, his body heat nearly scorching against Koby.)
[There's an instant where Koby almost second-guesses himself, wonders if it was too much, if he's finally crossed the line that'll make Mihawk want to pull back, want to retreat and close himself up again. But when he's flipped onto his back, when Mihawk slips back into him, the full length of his warm, powerful, beautiful body pressing Koby into the bed, kissing him slow and deep and hungry -- it's always better, like this. When it's easier to catch more of those kisses, one leg hooked over Mihawk's hip, keeping him deep, buried nearly to the hilt, drowning in the musky scent of bergamot and sweat and him. It's the scent Koby seeks out on his sheets when Mihawk wakes up before him, when there's a lingering kiss to his temple, a hand smoothing along his back, a murmured word of farewell. Mihawk doesn't let him wake up alone, not anymore.
And Mihawk doesn't let Koby forget who he's with, his taste and scent and the feel of his body moving rhythmic and steady and languid the one real thing in the world. Koby's hands are in Mihawk's hair, he's smiling against Mihawk's lips and he wants -- to say it, wants to promise things, make guarantees, ask for things he knows he can't. He wants the rest of this world and their world and any others to disappear, wants to stay forever right here, just the two of them.
Logically, it's because Koby's just come and he's well on his way to doing it again, riding the fluid waves of Mihawk's hips rocking down against his, Mihawk's cock moving inside him. But it doesn't make the urge any less present, doesn't have the words any farther from the tip of his tongue. There's a dangerous moment when Koby almost -- almost --
And then Mihawk's moving just slightly different into him, and the sparks that sets off blot out everything else, and Koby's nails snag blunt and desperate at the back of the man's neck, voice shaky, hoarse:] There, there, j-just -- like that, please-- [He gulps a shuddery breath, ducks to catch Mihawk's mouth with his again, clumsy and eager and hungry, mumbling between kisses:] Been too long, need you to fill me up, please, please...
(Mihawk had lived a long life and he had accomplished everything he had thought he wanted. He didn't actually think life could have gotten better than it already was. Back home, he was just passing the time and playing his cards because that was all there was to do. What's a guy to do when you reached your dream years ago?
It had never occurred to him to create a new one. But now, with Koby beneath him, blossoming around him, fragrant and warm, tight and welcoming, he can feel himself getting completely lost in this new possibility. It's far from the first time he has thought about that with Koby, but each time just seemed to be more real and heavier.
It has been too long. Far too long. Granted...Too long for them. Mihawk picks up the pace and hardens his thrusts when Koby begs for it. He's fucking Koby harder and harder until all he can see is white and there is a blinding surge of pleasure burning through him. When he fills Koby up, it's far more than ever before. He pumps him full and it soothes some wild, restless part of him, a satisfaction like no other spreading into him.
Mine. He grumbles against Koby, panting quietly, and that's when he feels a soft swelling begin. He blinks against Koby, and by the time he realizes what it is, his knot is snug inside of Koby, locking him in place. Mihawk pants quietly, flicking his head. He rests on his elbows, looking at Koby with complete adoration and wonder.)
[Anything more than a day, a few hours is too long. Every time they tumble back into bed -- usually like this, Koby spread out and breathless and moaning Mihawk's name as they move together like they were each born to do it -- the idea of keeping distance becomes that much more ridiculous. He misses this, the taste and scent and feel of Mihawk inside him, atop him, the way his whole body lights up every time, gentle or rough or somewhere in between. They rarely go more than a day or two without sleeping together, and it's still too long.
Like some force in this place has heard the silent plea that fills Koby's entire soul every time he's with Mihawk -- stay, stay, stay -- there's something different this time, making his breath catch in his throat. The swelling is almost too much, getting a soft whine as Koby shifts and adjusts and -- there, right there, pressure and heat just right, and he shivers blissfully through his (third? maybe) climax just from the feel of Mihawk knotting him.
Maybe there is a god after all. The breathless comment gets a sleepy, fucked-out grin, blissful and crooked, Koby's shaky hands smoothing over Mihawk's broad shoulders, petting clumsily through his hair. His words are a little slurred, but undeniably smug:] Good. Keep you to myself for a little longer.
[Then he shuts his eyes, nails curling against the back of Mihawk's neck, shivering all over again. Every shift of Mihawk's hips has Koby jolting back up to that unbearably perfect peak, though it's not clear whether he's coming more than once or one long, staccato time. He doesn't care, just shudders and throbs and clenches around Mihawk's knot, testing his own limits, seeing how long he can go.] This -- is okay? I -- can't stop, I'm -- [Another shift and a broken, needy whine, both hands tugging Mihawk closer, wanting to feel his full warmth, his weight, wanting to drown in him.<./small>]
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Oh, called out. Koby's ears turn pink and he scowls deeper, because Mihawk is definitely not going to believe that he hasn't been spying. In fact, Mihawk probably knew damn well Koby was there, once or twice. Or three times. Or -- he has a routine, okay, and it happens to take him past the dumb remote field where they train shirtless. How is that his fault?
But he doesn't have time to dwell on it, because Mihawk says that and Koby's abruptly sitting upright, a flash of genuine hurt on his face. It's raw, unguarded, a brief glimpse of just how deep his feelings go. He wants to -- yell, demand an explanation for why Mihawk would think that, why he assumes this (they) is inevitably doomed to failure.
Yet -- Koby had already left Mihawk, recently enough that it's still clearly an open wound. Of course. Of course. His shoulders drop a little, the aching pain disappearing from those big, sad eyes, replaced with a solemn resignation.] I...can't blame you for thinking that way. I haven't exactly shown you otherwise yet.
[A slow exhale, then Koby reaches out, setting his hands on either side of Mihawk's face, very gently.] So I have to...ask you to wait and see, again. Give me a chance to prove it. That I don't want to go anywhere. That I won't.
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Mihawk watches him sit up sharply, watches that look of hurt, and again, he feels another dull pulse of guilt. It's not an emotion he's familiar with and he immediately decides he doesn't like it in the slightest. A small part of him wants to assure Koby, but it would be a lie to act like anything else was the truth.)
You did just spend quite a bit of time going on about how much his approval means, yes.
(And just- looking like he does whenever he talks about Luffy. Which. It's fine. Totally fine that Koby is close with other people. Mihawk believed Koby should be close to other people. Koby deserved friends and nice things. He does have to clench his jaw again because it feels unnatural to not rush to comfort Koby when he has that upset look on his face.
He doesn't expect Koby to reach out to him, to cup his face. The gesture catches him off guard enough that his eyes widen marginally. He softens again and slides a hand over one of Koby's, turning his face to kiss the inside of Koby's wrist.)
You know I will wait.
(That he can say without any hesitation.)
Let's get out. The water is getting cold.
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[A pause, thumb stroking over the swirling, intricate edge of Mihawk's beard.] If he tells me I shouldn't keep seeing you, I'll tell him he's wrong. [And hopefully Luffy will listen. Hopefully it won't end in Koby having to choose. He can't let himself think that it might all be for nothing, that he might be doomed, otherwise he'll want to give up before he even starts.
Mihawk kisses his wrist, and some of the anxiety is gone. Koby smiles, soft and sleepy and affectionate.] One second. [Then he leans forward, presses his lips to Mihawk's forehead, gentle and fervent at the same time, unbearable tenderness in the gesture.] Okay. Don't want you to catch a cold. [Right, because Mihawk's the one in danger of that.]
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He wasn't the sort to admit it, but he was running on a thin line. He wouldn't describe himself as hopeless either. His realism was just bordering more on pessimism right about now.
It felt like for the first time in...Well, maybe since he was a child or a teenager, he had lost in some way.)
All right. (Mihawk isn't so sure how that will go. Although, truthfully, he can't imagine Luffy was the sort of person who would demand Koby choose anyway. After all, the boy let Koby chase after his dream of being a marine without ruining their friendship. So.)
For what it's worth, I don't think he will tell you that. He seems to be an advocate for people going after what they want even if it contradicts his own dreams.
(He really didn't hate Luffy. And he didn't hate what he's done for Koby. Part of him does want to comfort Koby because he didn't want Koby to worry so much about it either - even if Mihawk wasn't so positive or sold on everything, that didn't mean he had to fill Koby's head up with insecure jibes that Mihawk didn't even believe. Uncomfortable or not, he was always going to be honest with Koby.
He didn't want Koby to think his friend would abandon him after everything he has done for him. He doesn't like how Koby lights up thinking about him, but he didn't want there to be a reason that thinking on Luffy made him sad either.
At the end of the day, it was just like back at the sacrifice. He wanted Koby to do what he wanted. He wanted Koby to go after his dreams and do what felt right to him. Mihawk would never stand in the way of that. Even if that dream wound up not including him at all.
He knew he had never made Shanks light up that way either. Some part of him grappled with the fact that this was merely the outcome of the life he had led and he had no right to be bitter about it. He said he was fine on his own so he should be fine on his own.
He doesn't even realize he has a headache until Koby is kissing his forehead and he feels the slightest pulse of relief. Luffy or Shanks or sacrifices or not - he did know how he felt about Koby. Koby who worried about him catching a cold. He scoffs.)
Honestly.
(He's never caught a cold in his life. He grabs Koby then, and stands up out of the tub, holding Koby in a classic bridal pose. He undoes the drain and steps out of the tub, sighing.)
That was less sexy than I had envisioned. (The tragedy of being emo. He sets Koby on the edge of his bathroom counter and reaches for two fluffy black towels. He wraps one around his waist before getting to work on patting Koby dry beeecause he can!)
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[Then he quiets, watching the tiny shifts in Mihawk's expression, the tightening of his jaw, the faraway look in his eye. There's more there than his and Luffy's history -- something deeper, older, something that Mihawk clearly doesn't want to talk about. Koby is desperately curious, but he can sense the weight of whatever it is, and wisely bites his lower lip and says nothing.
If Mihawk wants to say it, he will, eventually. Despite being obviously the stronger, more dominant one in this -- thing of theirs, Mihawk has let Koby take the lead in every actual decision, all the way back to the fireside ritual. Part of Koby is relieved by this, by the sense of control it gives him, but sometimes...he wishes Mihawk would ask things. Material comforts aside, Koby doesn't think Mihawk's very good at making requests. Even someone with a very high opinion of themselves can have low self-esteem in specific areas.
Still, there's visible exhaustion in the man's furrowed brow, the slight tension of his shoulders as Koby holds onto his neck. Now is not the time to get into a conversation as complex as their self-image issues. Koby smooths his thumb along Mihawk's jaw, soothingly, fretting a bit.] You look tired. Do you need any food before we go to bed?
[The comment makes Koby laugh, obligingly letting Mihawk towel him dry. Well, sort of -- he does make a nuisance of himself by stroking and petting the man's now-clean, fluffy wolf ears.] We can always try again when we're less tired. [Nuzzling one ear now, kissing the pointed tip, he murmurs:] Seeing you all wet and soapy was nice, though. Definitely my favorite part.
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(Mihawk didn't know how to talk to people about things. He never had and had never thought he would. It's true. He didn't ask things, didn't ask for help, didn't vocalize anything of the sort. Mostly he figured he could do things on his own. Whatever this thing between them was, it was only beginning to build better habits. Even if it didn't exactly feel like that right now.
It's nice to be soothed by Koby. Some of that tension relaxes and he decides he's done enough sulking for the past twenty-four-hours. Koby's fretting was sweet as ever and he relaxed even further at hearing his laugh.)
No, I'm fine. Do you need anything?
(He's pretty sure he ate a whole lot of something as a wolf and was still feeling that. His ears flick about on his head at the attention, and then Koby is nuzzling his ear, kissing it, and it's actually too much! The tragedy of wolf ears meant that he no longer blushed in the tips of his ears, but now, he blushed a bit across the bridge of his nose, an unfamiliar burning.)
I could say the same. (He reluctantly pulls away from Koby and removes his own towel because it just wasn't cutting it. He had to...He had to...
Mihawk proceeds to shake himself like a dog. Sorry, Koby, you're getting some spray back. He scrubs at his hair with one of the towels and then moves it to dry off his tail. Koby now gets to finally see the sight of a Mihawk without his hair slicked back. His hair is spiked and a bit long, and truthfully, he looks younger with his hair down. Maybe even softer. Mihawk pulls his towel away from his tail, approving of its dryness at last.)
Please tell me I don't smell like a wet dog. (Oh god.............
Thankfully he doesn't although his musky scent was a bit stronger.)
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[And then Mihawk is shaking himself off, spraying water all over and Koby's words break off in a squawk as the droplets splatter his glasses, his face again. He's about to lecture, about to get huffy, reaching up and furiously toweling off the lenses. But then he sees Mihawk's hair, loose and soft and tumbling around his face, pointed ears pricked in the middle, tail curling sleek and powerful, and of course the now-familiar splendor of his bare chest, his shoulders, his legs and stomach.
And Koby's seen Mihawk naked several times now. But something is different about this, the wolf features and the just-drying hair and the now-clean trail of fur down Mihawk's lean stomach. It's oddly vulnerable, like Koby's finally seeing behind the constantly put-together persona, like he's really seeing Mihawk for the first time.
His breath catches in his throat, and for a moment he can't speak. When he does, what he means to say is something about Mihawk smelling perfectly fine. What he does say is:] You're beautiful.
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He may be uncertain about their future, but he wasn't uncertain about Koby. Koby who was staring at him in that way, Koby who was looking at him like it was the first time he'd ever seen another person before. Mihawk's eyes are narrowed, but there's no anger in him. He's curious about that look, about what exactly is running through Koby's mind.
Then that comes out and Mihawk's head jerks back absently, surprise open on his face. Excuse you?!
A bit of heat fills back into his face but this time a healthy flush crawls into his chest too. Maybe it was the wolf's blood running far hotter, or maybe it was because no one alive had the audacity to call him things like beautiful - at least not to his face.
To someone who knew less, they might think he was looking at Koby with murderous intent, but really, it was just a moment of overwhelming emotion. He moves forward in a rush, grabbing Koby by his face and bringing their mouths together in a fierce sort of kiss. Every unsaid thing burned through the kiss.
Then he's pulling away in an embarrassed fashion, strolling out of the bathroom swiftly.)
Bring those panties.
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He knows that expression, but he's only ever seen glimpses of it in the most intense, heated moments he and Mihawk have had, and then only in passing. Now it stays, oddly softened by Mihawk's loose hair, the flush across his nose, the soft, pointed wolf ears. Koby finally manages to do something other than stare openly, a small smile curling across his face just as Mihawk leans forward and kisses him hard, ferocious.
There's a bright, delighted laugh as Mihawk strides out of the bathroom, and Koby's already calling after him:] You should be resting, you know. [But of course, when he joins Mihawk a few moments later, he's wearing the strawberry-print panties as directed, sitting low on his hips, clingy and silky and hiding absolutely nothing.]
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(Mihawk, he didn't mean that!
He's waiting for Koby. The moment he steps into view, Mihawk is growling appreciatively. An actual growl, something feral and animalistic. He really didn't appreciate this properly earlier.)
Oh. I do love how those look on you.
(He's waiting for Koby, standing over him, but now that Koby is near again...He gets the strongest instinct to just...
Get down onto his knees. Which he does in one fluid motion. His hands slide up the backs of Koby's thighs.)
You think I'm beautiful. Look at you.
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[But Koby doesn't have it in him to argue, not when Mihawk's looking at him like that, all hunger and raw, animal desire. He's slowly getting used to Mihawk's intense gaze, but the new wolf traits bring it to another level entirely. It thrills that new, animal-like part of Koby, terrifying and compelling all at once.
And then Mihawk goes down on his knees. And Koby's left breathless again, by the act of it, the show of submission from someone so huge, so powerful. He reaches out immediately, slides his fingers through Mihawk's hair, curling them through the loose strands. Then, tongue sliding across his lower lip in that unerring cue of how much he's enjoying something, Koby tugs firmly on Mihawk's hair, prompting him to look upwards.]
Good. I'm glad you like them. [There's a strange glint in his eyes, something almost -- possessive, free hand slowly reaching out to stroke along Mihawk's face, cradle his cheek. Koby's teased Mihawk before -- it's one of his favorite things, actually -- but he's never been this dominant in bed before. It's...kind of nice, having Mihawk on his knees, looking upwards, like a good boy.
That thought has Koby blushing immediately, ears and nose and cheeks. He clears his throat, runs a thumb along the ruffled elastic.] I liked these best. No daisy ones though. [Daisies are his favorite.]
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He gazes up at Koby with half-lidded eyes, something warm simmering through him. This was a new angle entirely and he finds that he loves looking up at Koby from his knees. Why had it taken so long to get here again? Never the occasion for it, he supposed. He had always taken the reigns and dominated every time they rolled into bed.
The sight of Koby's blush rouses a smug smirk, as if Mihawk could read his mind. He leans forward, humming, pressing his face against Koby's crotch. He breathes him in and having that deeper appreciation of scents is doing something completely new to his body. He winds up nuzzling in deep, rumbling low in his throat. Daises. What do daisies have to do with anything again?
His tongue slides out over the material, and Koby might find that his tongue was a bit different now too. Thicker, longer. He doesn't push past the material, but mouths at Koby. His instincts were screaming to claim and mark Koby as his. Any dread about Luffy or Shanks or their life back home was completely gone from his mind.)
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That's -- different. [The tongue he means, the size, the texture, the heat. It has Koby's stomach going tight, heat coursing through his body, pooling right where Mihawk's tongue is soaking through the fabric. He's shivering at how much he wants it, how every sense feels heightened, intensified.
Koby's blunt nails dig deeper into Mihawk's hair, and he breathes out, without pausing to think:] Wonder what else is different about you now?
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He winds up ripping away at Koby's panties, tearing the delicate fabric easily. His hands go to grip Koby's hips after, holding him up. He proceeds to slide that new tongue of his into the deepest part of Koby without any real effort. He could never get that deep with his regular tongue, but this one...
Then he just goes at Koby. He's drinking everything up, pumping his tongue in and out of Koby like he was something worth lapping at. There's an unhinged vigor, like he was a man starved who just discovered a feast and didn't know where to start. His eyes were starting to glow bright and his hands gripping Koby so hard they would no doubt leave marks. Again.)
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There are going to be bruises all around his hips, and Koby doesn't even remotely care, too busy riding the slick heat of Mihawk's tongue, knees going weak, breath coming in shuddery moans. The angle is brand new -- usually he's on his back when Mihawk eats him out -- and it's only that firm grip on his waist that keeps him upright.]
Good, so, s-so good... [Koby's gasping out, nails grazing the bases of Mihawk's ears, looking down at him with adoration and want and fondness. He's absolutely soaked against Mihawk's tongue, shivery pleasure through his whole body and the next words just sort of tumble out:] You're being so good for me.
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less hornysenses, he would look into finding some daisy pattern things for Koby. Mihawk is absolutely relishing in Koby, both his taste and the way he sounds above him. He loves the texture of Koby, sweeping his tongue faster through him until his own cheeks were dripping and a bit of Koby's wetness had dripped down his own chin.Being called good gets a solid wag from his tail and he huddles up closer against Koby. He somehow grips him harder and tongue-fucks him even deeper. This time he keeps his mouth clamped on Koby and just twists his tongue around inside of him. He licks alone his walls, curls his tongue, and flicks it back and forth. He lets out a low whining noise, huffing quietly because holy fuck was he hard.
But he was intent on getting Koby off first. Maybe a soft apology for being so miserable earlier. He slides his tongue slowly out of Koby before sweeping it up over his lips, around his clit, and sucks on that spot for a long moment, just pushing his tongue against it again and again before he's back to driving his tongue into Koby. He really couldn't get enough of it right now.)
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Who knows -- there's not room for anything except Koby's hands clutching at Mihawk's hair, his voice high and needy and sharp, begging or praising or somewhere in between. The grip on his hips is the one thing that keeps him upright when he finally comes with a shattered moan, shamelessly rutting against Mihawk's mouth, soaking his chin and beard once again, because apparently that's going to become a habit.
Feeling untethered, shaky, and not at all sated, Koby tugs hard at Mihawk's hair, breath raspy, eyes heated and dark and hungry.] Bed. R-Right now. [It's a command, skirting close to that compulsion and just barely holding back -- no time for teasing, he needs Mihawk inside him right that fucking second.]
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But then he realizes........
Maybe it's not so bad. He stands up and as he does, he just picks Koby up with him. Who needed to walk when your boyfriend could whisk you around as though you weighed absolutely nothing? He manhandles Koby onto the bed and immediately puts Koby on his stomach. Which is unusual for them, but he had some instincts going against his usual desire to stare Koby down while they fucked. Besides...
Koby does look lovely from behind. He lifts him up onto his knees and within seconds, his cock is sliding in deep, and as Koby had theorized, Mihawk was different here too. He was hotter, bigger, thicker. He growls again, hooking an arm around Koby's waist, curling protectively around his back as he begins to thrust into Koby.)
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The position isn't a normal one, aside from a few times bent over the desk or the edge of the bed -- when there wasn't much time, back at the beginning. These days Mihawk tends to linger, take his time taking Koby apart, watching him shudder to pieces spread out on the blankets. But that doesn't make this angle any less preferable -- elbows and knees, Mihawk's warm weight at his back, the familiar press of his cock sliding through the mess he's made.
And then -- also new, different, bigger and thicker and part of Koby wants to pull away and turn around and see what, exactly, is different about Mihawk's cock, because he's deeply attached to that part of him, okay. But the depth is wonderful, the stretch, the burn almost like the first time, and Koby just drops his forehead against the blankets with a whimpering, broken sound, back arching hard, hips lifting back to meet each thrust. He can examine the nuances later -- what matters right now is that it's Mihawk, inside him, where he's supposed to be. Where he belongs.
One hand reaches back, shakily, finds the back of Mihawk's neck, trembling fingers squeezing -- one. Two. Three. Resting there, like even when actively fucking him, Mihawk isn't close enough. Like Koby needs to hold onto him, even now.]
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The pulsing squeeze on his neck makes Mihawk freeze against Koby for a moment and he knows, he knows damn well what that means because he knew what he meant when he did it earlier in the bathroom. He knew Koby knew what it meant. Neither of them were stupid and for a second, he's seized with the wild desire to just-
No, from behind wasn't going to do after all.
He slides out of Koby only so he can flip him around and bring their mouths together hard. He's back inside Koby a second later, pulling one leg up to get a deeper angle. He wanted to be as close and personal with Koby, his tongue melting into his mouth. One hand goes into Koby's hair and he's soon fucking him in fluid motions against the mattress, relentless in his pace, his body heat nearly scorching against Koby.)
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And Mihawk doesn't let Koby forget who he's with, his taste and scent and the feel of his body moving rhythmic and steady and languid the one real thing in the world. Koby's hands are in Mihawk's hair, he's smiling against Mihawk's lips and he wants -- to say it, wants to promise things, make guarantees, ask for things he knows he can't. He wants the rest of this world and their world and any others to disappear, wants to stay forever right here, just the two of them.
Logically, it's because Koby's just come and he's well on his way to doing it again, riding the fluid waves of Mihawk's hips rocking down against his, Mihawk's cock moving inside him. But it doesn't make the urge any less present, doesn't have the words any farther from the tip of his tongue. There's a dangerous moment when Koby almost -- almost --
And then Mihawk's moving just slightly different into him, and the sparks that sets off blot out everything else, and Koby's nails snag blunt and desperate at the back of the man's neck, voice shaky, hoarse:] There, there, j-just -- like that, please-- [He gulps a shuddery breath, ducks to catch Mihawk's mouth with his again, clumsy and eager and hungry, mumbling between kisses:] Been too long, need you to fill me up, please, please...
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It had never occurred to him to create a new one. But now, with Koby beneath him, blossoming around him, fragrant and warm, tight and welcoming, he can feel himself getting completely lost in this new possibility. It's far from the first time he has thought about that with Koby, but each time just seemed to be more real and heavier.
It has been too long. Far too long. Granted...Too long for them. Mihawk picks up the pace and hardens his thrusts when Koby begs for it. He's fucking Koby harder and harder until all he can see is white and there is a blinding surge of pleasure burning through him. When he fills Koby up, it's far more than ever before. He pumps him full and it soothes some wild, restless part of him, a satisfaction like no other spreading into him.
Mine. He grumbles against Koby, panting quietly, and that's when he feels a soft swelling begin. He blinks against Koby, and by the time he realizes what it is, his knot is snug inside of Koby, locking him in place. Mihawk pants quietly, flicking his head. He rests on his elbows, looking at Koby with complete adoration and wonder.)
I don't think I can move anytime soon.
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Like some force in this place has heard the silent plea that fills Koby's entire soul every time he's with Mihawk -- stay, stay, stay -- there's something different this time, making his breath catch in his throat. The swelling is almost too much, getting a soft whine as Koby shifts and adjusts and -- there, right there, pressure and heat just right, and he shivers blissfully through his (third? maybe) climax just from the feel of Mihawk knotting him.
Maybe there is a god after all. The breathless comment gets a sleepy, fucked-out grin, blissful and crooked, Koby's shaky hands smoothing over Mihawk's broad shoulders, petting clumsily through his hair. His words are a little slurred, but undeniably smug:] Good. Keep you to myself for a little longer.
[Then he shuts his eyes, nails curling against the back of Mihawk's neck, shivering all over again. Every shift of Mihawk's hips has Koby jolting back up to that unbearably perfect peak, though it's not clear whether he's coming more than once or one long, staccato time. He doesn't care, just shudders and throbs and clenches around Mihawk's knot, testing his own limits, seeing how long he can go.] This -- is okay? I -- can't stop, I'm -- [Another shift and a broken, needy whine, both hands tugging Mihawk closer, wanting to feel his full warmth, his weight, wanting to drown in him.<./small>]