That's -- [Koby's weak attempt at a protest breaks off into another of those shuddery breaths at the sudden press of the pirate's thumb against his lower lip. Taking what he wants, bold and daring and fearless. Like a pirate.
It doesn't matter that they're in a marine base, that anyone could come by and see. There's a tug of longing somewhere under the neat, starched uniform that Koby's so proud of. A desire that's just as potent as his dream to be a marine had been, but with an undertow of danger, like a hidden current hiding under a wave.
Swallowing hard, Koby looks up, unsure whether he's about to melt to pieces or bite down.] You -- don't know what I like. You don't know me. [But he knows -- they both know -- that the cadet isn't stepping away. Isn't raising the alarm. Hasn't left.]
(Oh, yes. He was most definitely right about this one. He's already starting to imagine how he was going to sound broken down and pulled apart.)
I don't.
(Mihawk steps forward and steadily winds up pressing Koby right up against the nearest wall. He presses his own body against the boy's and moves both hands now to simply cradle his face.)
But I'm going to.
(He leans down toward Koby, golden eyes even brighter up close.)
And you're going to let me.
(Again, not a question, but it also wasn't him forcing anything either. Because he wasn't an idiot. He knew that Koby wanted this. He knew what want looked like.)
Give me just an hour with you and I'll break you apart in ways you've never even imagined. What do you have to lose? (A beat. Finally, he does smirk.)
[There's another of those broken-off squeaky gasps as Mihawk suddenly pushes forward, tall and broad and warm, the heat of him pressing up against Koby and wrinkling the neatly-starched uniform. Beneath the rumpled tie, the boy's heart is racing a mile a minute -- but again, not with fear. He should be terrified. He should be begging for his life.
But he's not. Instead he's exhaling shakily at the warmth of those hands on his face, surrounded and wrapped up and consumed in the unyielding press of another body to his own. He can feel his head going fuzzy, wanting to close his eyes, wanting to surrender.
At the smirk, though, Koby forces his eyes open, manages a frown, even as his face turns bright red.]
Y-You don't. Know that I-I'm. That I've never. You don't know. [Yes, Koby. Yes he does. From that reaction alone.]
(A soft snort escapes Mihawk. The closest thing he has to a laugh. The boy still hadn't said no and Mihawk knew he wasn't going to. He ignores the words entirely then because he had no problem proving how right he was in other ways.
Instead, he finally brings his mouth to Koby's. He didn't always kiss the men he sought after. It was an overly intimate gesture, after all, but that didn't mean there wasn't a time and place for it. Koby seemed the sort who might enjoy kissing a lot.
And his mouth is soft. Mihawk, however, isn't. It's a firm kiss and one that hardly stays innocent for within seconds, Mihawk is sliding his lips apart to swipe his tongue against Koby's mouth, pressing in.)
[The most embarrassing thing is that this is pretty much exactly how Koby's secret hot pirate fantasies go -- someone forbidden, dangerous, mysterious (and usually wearing a hat) presses him up against a wall and kisses him senseless. It's the plot of countless cheap romance novels. It's cliched. It's tired out.
But actually experiencing it is something else entirely. Mihawk is insistent, relentless, mouth firm and experienced and demanding. Koby's whole body goes hot, knees buckling a little, hands coming up like he's about to push the pirate away.
He doesn't. He closes his eyes and fists both hands in Mihawk's (stupid, hot, impractical) coat and holds on and opens his mouth without resistance. He can feel his hat being pushed off, falling to the ground, and there's the vague concern that someone will find it and wonder. But it's passing, lost in the shivery, mind-melting sensation of someone else's tongue in his mouth, hot and filthy and sinful.]
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It doesn't matter that they're in a marine base, that anyone could come by and see. There's a tug of longing somewhere under the neat, starched uniform that Koby's so proud of. A desire that's just as potent as his dream to be a marine had been, but with an undertow of danger, like a hidden current hiding under a wave.
Swallowing hard, Koby looks up, unsure whether he's about to melt to pieces or bite down.] You -- don't know what I like. You don't know me. [But he knows -- they both know -- that the cadet isn't stepping away. Isn't raising the alarm. Hasn't left.]
no subject
I don't.
(Mihawk steps forward and steadily winds up pressing Koby right up against the nearest wall. He presses his own body against the boy's and moves both hands now to simply cradle his face.)
But I'm going to.
(He leans down toward Koby, golden eyes even brighter up close.)
And you're going to let me.
(Again, not a question, but it also wasn't him forcing anything either. Because he wasn't an idiot. He knew that Koby wanted this. He knew what want looked like.)
Give me just an hour with you and I'll break you apart in ways you've never even imagined. What do you have to lose? (A beat. Finally, he does smirk.)
Besides your virginity, of course.
no subject
But he's not. Instead he's exhaling shakily at the warmth of those hands on his face, surrounded and wrapped up and consumed in the unyielding press of another body to his own. He can feel his head going fuzzy, wanting to close his eyes, wanting to surrender.
At the smirk, though, Koby forces his eyes open, manages a frown, even as his face turns bright red.]
Y-You don't. Know that I-I'm. That I've never. You don't know. [Yes, Koby. Yes he does. From that reaction alone.]
no subject
Instead, he finally brings his mouth to Koby's. He didn't always kiss the men he sought after. It was an overly intimate gesture, after all, but that didn't mean there wasn't a time and place for it. Koby seemed the sort who might enjoy kissing a lot.
And his mouth is soft. Mihawk, however, isn't. It's a firm kiss and one that hardly stays innocent for within seconds, Mihawk is sliding his lips apart to swipe his tongue against Koby's mouth, pressing in.)
no subject
But actually experiencing it is something else entirely. Mihawk is insistent, relentless, mouth firm and experienced and demanding. Koby's whole body goes hot, knees buckling a little, hands coming up like he's about to push the pirate away.
He doesn't. He closes his eyes and fists both hands in Mihawk's (stupid, hot, impractical) coat and holds on and opens his mouth without resistance. He can feel his hat being pushed off, falling to the ground, and there's the vague concern that someone will find it and wonder. But it's passing, lost in the shivery, mind-melting sensation of someone else's tongue in his mouth, hot and filthy and sinful.]