(Mihawk didn't need an invitation. Not with pirates, not with marines. He went where he wanted to and no one had any right to question him about it. Though he was far from a cruel man, he still took what he wanted and it had been a long time since he had seen something he had wanted to take so badly. Whenever he visited Garp, he rarely paid attention to the cadets that scurried about like ship rats.
This time though his attention had been drawn sharply to Garp's newest cadet and apparently a boy who just might wind up being Garp's new prodigy of sorts. To say he was intrigued would be an understatement. He had seen men and boys of all kinds from one edge of the world to the other. Beautiful men, handsome, cut, scrawny, muscled, skilled, stupid...He had taken a handful, but it wasn't something he rarely bothered with. He was as every bit cold as people assumed him to be - usually.
The boy, Koby, brought him back. Not that he announced that to anyone and he certainly didn't announce himself. He bypassed a dozen marines without so much as a single one noticing the infamous warlord. When he finds Koby, he doesn't bother making any sort of elaborate entrance. Just folds his arms over his chest and winds up leaning against the wall just beside Koby before the boy can even see him. Now that he's next to him, he delights silently in the guy's side profile. He had a nice nose.)
Your observational skills could use some work, cadet.
[Koby is -- thinking. He usually is, when he's not busy with other duties. He's thinking about everything he thought he knew, about how the marines and the pirates and the Warlords all fit together. He's thinking about how the Go board was probably a metaphor of some sort. He's thinking --
And then he's not, because there's someone right next to him and instead of thinking, he's making an incredibly undignified squawking noise that is not at all befitting of a marine.]
You -- don't do that, you -- [The identity of who he's talking to sinks in, and Koby almost reflexively salutes. But he stops, because this is a pirate. You don't salute pirates. So instead he sort of just stands there, glaring.] The -- the Vice Admiral is occupied. If that's. What you need.
(He states this coolly, examining his polished nails as if there was nothing else in the world more interesting. He's not the sort of man to crack a grin even if there's a flicker of amusement at the Koby's obvious surprise.)
I couldn't help but notice that last time I was here, the Vice Admiral seemed to have taken a liking to you. (He slowly looks Koby over, from head to toe, and then slowly back up, pausing deliberately on Koby's waistline before he finally looks up to the boy's eyes.)
I've known him for a rather long time. He doesn't take a liking to his cadets. It makes me wonder...What do you offer that man?
[Oh, he's big. Koby's roughly 5'6 (embarrassingly), but Mihawk is...so big. And dangerous. And the very picture of a pirate, from head to toe and every inch in between. And it should make any real marine's blood boil.
But it's having a very...very different effect on Koby right now. He's warm, but not with anger or righteous fury. More with the almost tangible feeling of the pirate's eyes gliding down, then up again. The cadet swallows hard, trying to stand tall, to seem intimidating.
It's not super effective when the very mention of the Vice Admiral liking him prompts a hopeful, eager grin.] He does? [Then, quickly, face reddening:] Not. He does not. N-No more than anyone else. I don't -- offer anything. I don't know what you're talking about.
(Why wouldn't the Vice Admiral like him? Those sweet eyes looking up with earnest desire for approval and understanding. Even the eager grin is endearing. Mihawk understands for a split second why others were so willing to take on students.
Ah. The blush. He feels a burning wave of warmth that nearly makes him growl. Only years of control kept him pinned to the wall rather than acting out on base instincts. He can't fully help himself though. He reaches his hand out and hooks a thumb under Koby's chin to lift his face up even further. He grips him so the cadet couldn't squirm away so easily.)
Oh? You really can't imagine why someone might want to keep a thing like you around?
(It was probably a little insulting to imply the cadet had no other merit than being pretty, but Mihawk wasn't here to be kind. He keeps his gaze on Koby, unwavering, unblinking.)
[That should be enough. Koby should jerk backwards and get as far away as possible -- maybe raise some sort of alarm, even though that'll likely just get him in trouble with the Vice Admiral. But he definitely shouldn't stand there, eyes wide behind the lenses of his glasses, lips parted a little as the innuendo finally hits home. Koby might be innocent, inexperienced, but he did spend a while on a pirate ship. He understands when someone is implying what...Mihawk is implying.
And the blush intensifies, spreading like wildfire up the back of Koby's neck, his ears, his face, a more intense shade than his hair. Voice stammering, squeaking:] That is -- extremely inappropriate, sir. I would -- never think of the Vice Admiral like -- like that.
[Which is true. Because when Koby has those thoughts, they're always, always about pirates. Usually ones he knows (Luffy, most commonly, embarrassing and heartsick and wistful), but sometimes ones he's only seen on wanted posters (Buggy featured very prominently in his nighttime fantasies for a couple weeks). But it's always pirates. Always.]
(It would probably be the wiser choice, no doubt. But Koby had already proved to be a smarter cadet than most. Not a boy to blindly follow orders. He had a good head on his shoulders and could make his own decisions based off his own decisions. When that perfect mouth slides open in surprise, Mihawk has to stamp down the urge to slide a finger inside to see if his insides are as soft as he looks outside. He'd find out in due time, he thinks, given the blush on Koby's face.)
Why not? Not your type? The poor bastard is handsome in his own way.
(He doesn't quite smirk, but there's a lifted edge to his voice that suggests it.
Finally, he does slide his finger over that bottom lip, resting his thumb just against Koby's bottom teeth. Not quite in, but on the cusp.)
No, he wouldn't be your type, would he? He's too by the books. I think you like them a bit wild. Someone who doesn't bother with the rules.
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.]
Darling, as charming as I find your desperation, you should be careful. You're the kind of boy who one too many men might take advantage of if you're caught by the wrong sort.
(Mihawk would never admit it to a soul alive but between the delay and the last text, there's a stitch in his brow and an unpleasant feeling in the pit of his chest.
It's all followed up by a clean, simpler rage that is far easier for him to digest.)
On my way.
(RIP the poor bastards who may or may not be hassling Koby right about now. )
[In the morning, Koby will have time to feel embarrassed about -- all this. The getting drunk and the insisting on going to meet up with Mihawk himself, and the fact that he's meeting up with Mihawk at all. And, of course, the indirect message for help, because he's gotten completely over his head.
It's not other marines he runs into -- that might've been easier, considering that Koby's clear rapport with the Vice-Admiral makes him untouchable for anything more than light teasing. But instead it's a couple of ship's hands, reeking of alcohol and more than a little handsy, and they crowd into Koby's way and refuse to step aside, and he only has time to send that last message before one of them has an arm around his shoulders.
You're Garp's newest pet, arencha? the man is slurring, as his friend looks equally annoyed and anxious, and Koby tries to disentangle himself as quickly as possible. It's all anyone at the base talks about, how he's got a new favorite. They wanna know how you got his attention, what you had to do...]
Nothing. [Koby mutters it, trying to duck away, red-faced and tipsy and embarrassed, because they have it all wrong. If he's giving anyone favors, it sure as hell isn't Garp.
But apparently that's also a rumor, because the man adds, arm tightening, face twisted in a sneer: We know the truth, though. It isn't Garp that's fucking you, is it? Unless he likes to lend you out now and again. Can't blame him, you're a pretty little thing, arencha...
Maybe it's the allusion to Mihawk, or the shots or something else, but this is right about when Koby turns and punches the guy right in the face. Which is awesome, but stupid, because there's two of them and one of him, but he'll enjoy the brief surge of triumph as long as it lasts.]
(It isn't shocking to Mihawk. Koby underestimated just how beautiful he actually was and just how vile other people could be. Granted, Koby knew of certain brands of cruelty, that was for sure, but at times like these, Mihawk felt frustrated that Koby wasn't more aware. It didn't help that the Marines had their own fair share of bitter enemies who would do anything to rip a Marine down just for existing.
He's on the move immediately after he sends back his own text. It doesn't take long to find Koby. He always had him on his radar and a drunken Koby even more so.
Mihawk arrives just in time to see Koby deck a guy in the face. Admittedly, it's a beautiful sight and though Mihawk's expression doesn't change, he feels a swell of proud affection. There's a good boy. The thought slides in and out of his head before he moves in.)
Now, now.
(His smooth voice croons into the alley. Normally, he would just cut them down and he's sorely tempted to do so, but then it might get Koby whining at him about bloodlust. For the time being, he merely stands there, head tipped and cold gaze locked onto both of the men. The fact that he doesn't immediately kill these men might just be the biggest proof yet that he was completely smitten, really, but no one needs to know that.)
Let's not make poor choices, gentlemen. It won't end in your favor. (His eyes shift just slightly to Koby, and he tips his head to the side in a silent gesture of come here. Now.)
[The man who got decked is staggering a little, shocked at the sheer force behind the punch -- Koby doesn't look like he'd be able to actually hurt someone, but there's a shocking amount of power in his fists. That doesn't mean he isn't also affected by it -- quite the opposite, Koby's shaking out his hand, wincing.] Still hurts...
[Fuckin' -- broke my nose, you little shit-- The man lurches forward, winding up to hit Koby back, when that smooth, lilting voice fills the alley. Both ruffians freeze, and despite his best intentions, pure relief floods through Koby at Mihawk's voice. Like some sort of guardian angel, as absurd as that is -- he's a pirate, a warlord, standing there silhouetted against the streetlight like a deadly predator.
There's a smile flickering across Koby's face before he can stop it, and he stands a little straighter, already moving to Mihawk's side. He doesn't even try to defy the summons, and the men notice it. The one cradling his punched face sneers: Fuckin' knew it. Got him on a tight leash, pirate? Wonder what the Marines think about that...]
(Good boy. His eyes follow Koby and when he's beside him, something in Mihawk relaxes. He reaches out a hand to take the hand Koby had used to punch the man and examines his knuckles carefully. He doesn't respond to the accusation of fucking Koby. Instead, he rests his lips against Koby's knuckles, kissing them with a tenderness most men might not imagine possible from a pirate.
He breaks the kiss a second later, gazing at Koby.)
It would be a better situation for you if that were the case. (He finally looks over at the man.)
But unfortunately for you, this one is the closest thing I have to a treasure.
(He sighs, letting go of Koby's hand and finally pulls Yoru out from behind his back.)
And I really don't care what the Marines would think. You really are a stupid man, aren't you?
(He swings his sword out in a clean arch. It all happens in the blink of an eye. The men gape at him in their last moments of life before their bodies simply slide apart, falling to the ground, and dying soundlessly. Mihawk sighs, flicking his blade free of what little blood he managed to shed on it.)
[Mihawk probably assumes that Koby's too tipsy to remember anything about tonight -- the curl of fear when he realized he was outnumbered, the call for help, the sting of his now-bruised knuckles. The softness of the warlord's lips, pressed to those bruises. His words -- a treasure.
But he won't. He'll wake up fuzzy-headed and dry-mouthed (probably in an empty bed, reaching out for the swordsman the way he does almost every morning) and things will be hazy, but he'll remember this. Koby doesn't think it's possible he can ever forget that traitorous, treacherous thrill that runs through him when Mihawk meets his eyes. He doesn't even notice the men's quick, businesslike deaths, doesn't look around.
He doesn't look away from Mihawk for a second.
Finally, in the silence after the body bits crumple to the ground, Koby manages to find his voice again. Cradling his hand to his chest, still looking upwards, very softly:] I'm sorry. I should've...let you come to me instead.
[There's a shuddering exhale, and suddenly those wide eyes are embarrassingly bright.] I'm sorry. I -- sorry. [He doesn't know what else to say. He doesn't say what he does want to say, which is did you mean that? Were you just trying to scare them? Can you kiss me again, properly this time?]
(Once the men are disposed of, Mihawk turns his complete attention to Koby. He turns to face him, gazing down at him as he starts to apologize. He reaches his hand out once more, but this time to cup Koby's face, a stark contrast to the violence the same hand had committed only seconds before.)
Don't apologize. (Koby was young. He was figuring life out and frankly, Mihawk only cared that he had gotten to Koby in time. Before anything worse could have happened. He tips his head down and gives Koby that proper kiss he was looking for, a firm press of their mouths. It lasts longer than usual and without tongue.
He breaks the kiss a second later, rubbing his thumb just beneath Koby's eye.)
Are you all right?
(It has been a long time since Mihawk has asked if someone was okay. He kept to himself and was indifferent to the suffering of others. This was different though. Koby was different.)
Next time you'll let me get you. Promise me that and you have nothing to be sorry for.
[Koby rises up on his tiptoes for the kiss, hands curling into Mihawk's open-fronted shirt -- a fashion choice he gripes about, but secretly adores. He's still wobbly, the distinct tang of cheap Marine liquor on his lips, and he leans forward, resting his weight against Mihawk.
The words get a nod, a shaky exhale, Koby closing his eyes tightly. He's starting to shiver all over, adrenaline ebbing away and letting him feel the fear that had been blocked out moments before by the need to act.] I promise. I -- thank you.
[Another exhale, then he looks upwards again, this time hopefully.] Are you all right?
(His free hand automatically moves to Koby's waist to help steady him. He had a secret fondness for the way Koby had to stand up on his toes just to kiss Mihawk. As that weight settles against him, he moves his hand and encircles Koby's waist with his arm instead. Especially when the shivering begins. It spikes something hot and violent inside of Mihawk, and he almost regrets killing those men so swiftly. Perhaps drawing it out a bit would have been better.)
Good. (He kisses Koby again because he may or may not be relieved too.
That sweet face...Mihawk gazes back at Koby, unblinking, his expression unchanging . But there's a clenching twitch of his jaw to suggest he's not quite as composed as he seemed.)
Quite all right now.
(The closest thing he can give to admitting that he had been...anxious.)
Come here. (He exhales slowly, and with one easy motion, he's scooping Koby up into his arms, bridal style, holding him close. He would blame it on Koby being wobbly.)
Let's get you back to my room. I do recall you said you were drinking for a reason, after all. Perhaps you will be able to enlighten me once we're there.
[Normally being carried as if he's small and delicate has Koby squawking and protesting -- especially when it's Mihawk. He suspects that this is part of why the pirate insists on doing it so often.
But right now he's trembling too hard to argue, letting himself be scooped up and held, breath shuddering, bruised hand curled to his chest. Still, he reaches out, traces his un-injured fingers across Mihawk's clenched jaw, like he's trying to soothe the tension.] You were worried?
[There's an undeniable note of hope in his voice -- the alcohols doing. That's why. That's the only reason why.
That's also why Koby bluntly answers:] I wanted to get up the courage to come surprise you. I had a whole plan. I practiced.
the way this ship has me in a chokehold and is giving me a new personality trait-
I don't get worried. (Is Mihawk's immediate rebuttal, quick enough to be obviously defensive and he nearly wants to curse himself. Instead, he finds himself trying to relax as Koby's finger skirts over his jaw. He glances at Koby and clears his throat, backtracking reluctantly.)
...But...I suppose I was not happy with the idea of you being caught in a situation like that, no.
(It wasn't just a possessiveness either. He just loathed the idea of anyone hurting Koby...Especially like that. But he's a dangerous man and admitting to such a thing would be even more dangerous. If anyone knew he had this soft spot, they would rush to exploit it. And Koby was the only soft spot he had ever had in his life. He holds him a bit tighter.)
Oh? (An elegant eyebrow is raised.)
Did you now? (A slight smile lifts the corner of his mouth.)
And what did this plan consist of exactly? (He was walking swiftly, cutting through alleys to get them back to his place quicker, but his attention was on Koby and Koby alone.)
seriously like my entire heart and soul and mind tbh???
Oh. [It's soft, wondering, Koby's fingers resting on Mihawk's jaw for another moment. Then he leans in, rests his cheek against the warlord's shoulder. He has to think about that, untangle the different emotions it prompts inside him -- hope, mostly, helpless and wild and fervent. But it's hard to think about anything else, not with Mihawk holding him, chasing away the fear and discomfort.
Koby absently let's his fingers trail down the side of Mihawk's neck, the shivering slowly ebbing away, replaced again with the warm confidence from too many shots.] I can't tell you. It requires a practical demonstration.
[Only Koby would insist on proper protocol when post-murder flirting.]
(Mihawk doesn't know which is worse: the tone Koby says 'oh' in or the feeling of him resting his cheek against his shoulder. Mihawk was not familiar with such tenderness and it makes his mind go completely blank. The little touches to his neck, the way he could feel Koby relaxing against him does something to him that was far more effective than even their most passionate nights together.
He holds Koby a little tighter.)
I see.
(There's the slightest suggestion of amusement in his voice.
This behavior was precisely why Koby was so good for him, okay.)
Then I shall wait with bated breath.
(Thankfully it doesn't take that long to reach their destination. He gets the door open to his room without trouble and slips inside, kicking it shut quietly behind him. Before setting Koby down, he tips his head and presses his mouth against Koby's forehead. He probably wouldn't have done that if Koby were more sober, but alas, he's still feeling a bit off-kilter from the whole situation.
He carefully sets him down.)
Now. For your practical demonstration would you prefer I sit or stand?
[Even if the alcohol blocks out everything else, Koby will remember that -- the press of Mihawk's lips to his forehead, the softness of it, the tenderness. It might make waking up alone in this room a bit easier.
For now, though, he's a tipsy man on a mission. After a moment of wobbling to get his balance, he waves Mihawk towards the bed, impatient and tipsy.]
Sit. Sitting is -- better. [He's bright red, already rethinking things, but -- well, Mihawk has already committed murder for him today. Why not follow through and return the favor.
Taking a deep breath, Koby slowly starts to undress, pulling off his tie and hat and unbuttoning his shirt.]
Yes, sir. (Said in mockery, but followed up with obedience. He sits on the bed's edge, his bright eyes focused intently on Koby. His focus becomes razor-sharp as Koby begins to undress.
This was pretty much the only reason they got together alone, so he's not surprised, but he is surprised by how endearing and attractive the display manages to be at the same time.)
I do love watching you undress.
(An appreciative murmur, but otherwise he's silent, already captivated by Koby's little plan here.)
Shhhh. [Koby scowls, looking not the least bit ferocious, consiserinh he's simultaneously fussily folding his uniform. After all, he doesn't want to get written up for wrinkles. Shirt unbuttoned, Koby hesitates for a moment before slowly pulling off the sleeveless undershirt he wears underneath the neatly starched button-down.
And that's -- new. Despite the multiple times they've gone to bed together, and the fact that Mihawk's mouth has been on every other inch of his body, Koby's always insisted on keeping this piece of clothing on. It's sort of illogical, considering that Mihawk knows perfectly (and intimately) well exactly how Koby is made and what's between his legs. And, for all that the warlord can be maddening and frustrating, he's never once treated Koby as less of a man.
Maybe that's why Koby's doing this, finally letting himself be completely bare, for the first time. His shoulders are hunched forward, hands curling into fists so he doesn't instinctively cover his chest, and the jagged scars there. Though fully healed, it's clear whatever surgery left them was not careful or finessed -- the scarring is thick, deep red, still, and uneven where it stretches over Koby's ribs.
It's not a part of himself that the young marine is especially proud of. But -- Mihawk's somehow made him feel desired and cherished in an hundred different ways. Against all odds, Koby trusts him with this.]
(Mihawk behaves for once and falls silent. Perhaps he was just in a good mood tonight or maybe, more than likely, he was in the mood to give Koby just about anything he asked for.
His brows do raise ever so slightly when Koby strips entirely down. It is new and he's swift to realize where the significance might be. The way Koby curls over and acts as though Mihawk might cast him aside immediately for such vulnerability. He understands now why Koby might have needed the alcohol and something in him becomes softer than crushed velvet.
His eyes wander freely, taking in the jagged scarring, and truly, he sees them no different than the scars most pirates wore except perhaps these scars were undoubtedly of braver stuff. Mihawk lets out a faint breath before he raises a hand and beckons to Koby.)
Come closer. (He needed to make up for lost time.)
[There's a brief thrill of fear, an insidious whispering voice that hisses he's disgusted with you now, see, he'll reject you, like you always knew he would, like everyone does-- but Koby's already stepping forward. Maybe it's the liquid courage or an ingrained obedience moving his feet.
But more likely it's the lingering sensation of Mihawk's lips pressed to his forehead, the memory of that tensing jaw, the tiniest giveaway that yes, he'd been worried. This one is the closest thing I have to a treasure.
Koby will realize later that he's already too far gone, that maybe he has been this whole time, but those words had clinched it.
Now, though, he steps forward until he's standing between Mihawk's knees, shivering a little with nerves. They're nearly the same height, with the pirate sitting. Somehow it's reassuring to be able to see those eyes directly, see how they take in the jagged, inexpert scars.]
I -- bribed the ship's doctor with two bottles of rum. After a year on Alvida's ship. She was furious. The doctor ended up dead. [The words are flat, emotionless.]
(He rumbles smoothly as Koby comes between his knees. He automatically slides his hands over Koby's hips and up the small of his back. He doesn't look away from Koby for one second, understanding that this is valuable. This was proof of Koby's defiance and courage even in the worst of situations. It fans the flames that had already been burning inside of Mihawk for some time now.)
Hmm. (He smiles ever so slightly, a rare genuine one, something akin to pride in his eyes.)
Only you would spit in the eye of such a foul-tempered pirate to chase after what you truly want.
(Nothing but admiration.)
That might just be my favorite thing about you, did you know? (He lowers his gaze to Koby's chest and bows his head to kiss the edge of one of those scars.)
Maybe you're not as strong as me. (Physically. No one really was. But...)
You're just as driven. In a different way, but you certainly have no intention of letting anything stand in your path.
(He moves to kiss the other scar, skimming his mouth across it, peppering kisses until finally he lifts his head and brings their mouths together in a short kiss.)
Would you like me to kill her for you? (It's an earnest offer. And perhaps a silent gesture of love if there ever was one.)
[As soon as those big hands are on him, sliding around to his back, warm and callused and familiar, Koby doesn't know why he was worried at all. He doesn't presume to know Mihawk deeply -- he doesn't actually know if that's possible -- but he knows enough. He knows that courage and determination are highly prized, admired, no matter who they come from. It's why Mihawk had let the Straw Hat swordsman live, why he'd let Luffy go.
Koby doesn't think much of himself, but he knows he's good at surviving. And at standing up when push comes to shove, no matter how terrifying.
The touch of lips on his scars gets a soft shiver, both hands coming up to rest at the back of Mihawk's neck, toying with his hair. There aren't words for what the gesture means, the acceptance, the warmth. But it's written all over Koby's face.
He huffs out an amused sound at the murder offer, though something dark glints in his eyes for a fraction of a second. If there was anyone he'd want to kill, it'd be Alvida, a fact that sickens him. Finally he shakes his head.]
It was a long time ago. She didn't hurt me, she just said if I wanted this so bad, I had to deal with the consequences. No shirking duties to heal up. [The bitterness is back in his voice.] I tore my stitches probably -- seven, eight times. That's why the scars are so...ugly.
[Does Koby realize that by talking about Alvida's reaction, Mihawk's going to want to kill her anyway? Maybe...]
(Even though Koby shakes his head, Mihawk makes a mental note to keep a closer tab on Alvida. He could make her life a living nightmare at the very least and when he finally got disatisfied with that, he could kill her. Because yeah, he was absolutely going to kill her anyway.)
Ugly?
(Bloodlust for Alvida aside, mild surprise slips into his voice. He eases back to look Koby in the eye, his brow furrowed slightly. He shakes his head, guiding his hands to Koby's sides before he traces said scars with his thumbs.)
The only kind of ugly scars in this world are ones that represent failure.
(Scars on the back of a swordsman, for example, but not these. Never these. He gazes at them directly then, from side to side.)
These are perseverance. There is never anything ugly about that.
(He's not just being kind. He believes this wholly, and again, he kisses the scars. But this time, he stops to open his mouth against one of Koby's nipples and give it a gentle suck. He's not sure if Koby would be into the gesture, but only one way to find out. If he needed to, he would build up Koby's esteem about his chest. It was such a beautiful one - just like the rest of him, really. It was a crime for Koby to think otherwise.)
[Of course Koby's about to argue (when is he not, really, it's sort of a constant state with Mihawk), and insist that if not ugly, they're certainly not pretty, but those words stop him. Mihawk isn't the type to waste energy on empty flattery. So if he's saying these things...
He must mean them. That, more than anything, staggers Koby, coupled with the realization of just how deep in this he is. How it's no longer a passing, trivial fling. How maybe it never was.
And then all thoughts are driven away by the dizzying shock of pleasure from Mihawk's mouth on his chest. The sound Koby makes -- a gasping, needy sort of whine -- is deeply embarrassing, but he doesn't care. It's been years since anyone's touched his chest, including himself, and he'd half-believed the inexpert surgery would've resulted in a loss of feeling there.
But it definitely hasn't. If anything, Koby's especially sensitive now, knees literally buckling as his nails dig into the back of Mihawk's neck for stability.]
How did -- that isn't. That's. New. [Koby sort of gasps it out, shivering all over for a completely different reason.]
(Mihawk had a hunch that Koby had a bit of a kink for arguing with Mihawk. He endlessly humored the boy partially because it was cute seeing Koby get riled up about anything, and partly because he actually was that patient with Koby. He was worth the patience.
Anything about Koby struck Mihawk as beautiful. He hadn't been lying when he said he was his ultimate treasure. More valuable than the dozens of rare jewels and treasures he had found in his time as the world's greatest swordsman. More intriguing to Mihawk than the fabled one piece.
Ah. What fun they could have been having this entire time...No matter. Mihawk was good at making up for lost time. He sucks harder on Koby's nipple until he can feel it pebbled against his tongue. He smirks.)
Mmm. (He pops off of the nipple, looking ridiculously pleased with himself. )
Is it? (A bored drawl as he moves to Koby's other nipple to clamp down on. He sucks that one to hardness too, his other hand sliding up to play with the nipple he wasn't sucking at. He lets go of both, leaning back, exhaling slowly.)
I hope you don't expect to go anywhere else for the evening. You owe me. (His hands have gone to the waist of Koby's pants, already working them open and sliding them down over his hips.)
[Koby would likewise argue that Mihawk had a kink for riling him up -- everything about the warlord was maddening, like it was specially tailored to make Koby lose control. In softer moments, that actually makes him feel sort of flattered, which is probably a sign he's too far gone.
Right now, though, the teasing of Mihawk's mouth and long, clever fingers against his nipples is enough to completely block out any other thoughts. Koby's hands are knotted in Mihawk's hair by the time the pirate's done, simply to keep himself upright.
There isn't even a token protest, just a wordless, whimpering sound -- yes, he owes Mihawk, he'll make it up to him, anything he wants, anything. Koby always gets to this point, beyond his reservations, beyond thinking about anything that isn't Mihawk, Mihawk's hands, Mihawk's mouth, Mihawk's cock inside him.
So he gladly steps out of the rest of his clothes, knees wobbly, thighs trembling, so turned on that his boring, Marine-issued underwear clings like a second skin, absolutely drenched.
But he does find the words to gasp out:]
Not...done with the surprise yet. [One trembling hand reaches for Mihawk's, grabbing and guiding it around, pushing down the soaked underwear at the same time so the pirate can feel the unmistakable shape of a plug, nestled snugly inside Koby's ass.
(A fair argument, really, and completely true. Mihawk had a kink for anything involving Koby these days. Koby has become almost as familiar to him as his sword and he wasn't always sure what to do with that information. He had never exactly pictured someone for him in the life he led.
Yet here he was. Stopping by wherever Koby may be more often than he has ever bothered to stop by anyone else. He watches Koby step out of his pants, devouring him plainly in sight, his eyes soaking in how wet Koby evidently already was.
But then his eyes raise up to Koby, brows quirked in mute surprise.)
Oh...?
(Then he's being guided and when his fingers brush against something hard, he has to take an actual moment to remind himself to breathe. It's far from the first time he's ever encountered a toy like this, but he would have never in all his life imagined Koby would know about that sort of thing let alone use it.
There's an unmistakable glimmer in Mihawk's eyes. Full of surprises indeed. Were he a lesser man or infinitely younger, his stoic expression may have cracked.
He lets out a breath and moves to stand instead.)
You.
(A deeper breath. He lifts Koby off the ground and moves him onto the bed in one effortless motion, laying Koby against his back, sliding onto the bed after him.)
Are the most delightful creature I've ever discovered.
(An understatement. He moves south at once, stripping Koby of that standard underwear and tossing it aside.)
[Somehow Koby maintains the innocent, doe-eyed expression, even pausing to push his glasses up his nose with one finger. He'd been very businesslike about the whole thing -- he'd done research, finding that while the Marine library had almost nothing on the subject, there were plenty of side street stores with limitless knowledge. He may or may not have made a list of pros and cons of various toys (and almost definitely had to frantically tear said list to pieces when Helmeppo found it).
But it's all worth it for that reaction -- it's subtle, like everything Mihawk says and does, notable only in the slight brightening of those intense golden eyes. But by now, Koby has learned to read those signs, knows that he's thrown the pirate off balance, genuinely surprised him. It's a delightful, addictive feeling.
Being manhandled onto the bed is equally enjoyable, albeit much more familiar. It even gets a slightly tipsy, breathless laugh from the young cadet, who reaches out immediately, shaky fingers stroking along Mihawk's sharp cheek, his jaw.]
Good surprise? [There's a sweet, genuine note of hope in his voice, an eagerness to be praised that Koby can't ever pretend he doesn't possess. He craves every bit of approval, every sweet word, even more so because Mihawk rarely gives them. Being called things like delightful and treasure mean even more because of their rarity.]
(Koby is cute tipsy, Mihawk discovers. He should get him drunk more often for this side of Koby. He settles down against Koby and kisses him firmly, already hard against Koby's hip. It really would have been a disaster if those two men had had their way with Koby in the alleyway...Finding him with this toy inside of him. It occurs to Mihawk then that Koby had planned to come over and...
What a minx. He grins against Koby, hiding the rare expression in their kiss as he slides his tongue into Koby's mouth. As he kisses him, he strips himself of his own pants and his hat. Everything gets tossed aside without a care, a rarity as well from Mihawk, but there are more important things to appreciate right now than neatness.
He breaks their kiss to begin kissing down the length of Koby's neck. Once he reaches his chest, he takes care with sucking at each nipple yet again, one after the other before repeating.)
Have you ever- (A pause between licks.)
Taken a man like that before? (He's doubtful, but he wants to make sure anyway. Granted, the plug would have taken care of most of the work, but still. Some people were rather skittish about that sort of thing.)
[There's a very satisfied, smug look on Koby's face, triumphant at the success. Definitely worth all the research, not to mention figuring out how to actually use the toy. He'd said he'd been practicing, after all, no easy feat in a Marine base.
But it's all worth it, having the long, lean, muscled form of Mihawk pressed against him, kissing him deep and possessive. Even the alleyway is forgotten, in favor of Koby getting his hands all up in the pirate's hair, pulling him even closer, panting against his mouth when they finally pull apart.
And then Mihawk is moving back downwards, and Koby has truly created a monster. A chest-tormenting monster. The question comes in between those teasing, maddening licks and sucks, each one sending electric pulses of pleasure right down the young cadet's spine, pooling hot between his legs.
And Koby's so distracted, so thoroughly caught up in how good it feels that he tells the truth without thinking, breathless and whimpering:] N-No. Never been with -- anyone else, s-so.
[Which Mihawk probably already guessed, but this is the first time Koby's admitted it aloud.]
(No, Mihawk could imagine not. Not with how nosey some cadets were known to be. CoughcoughKOBYcough. What really makes Mihawk's blood run hot is perhaps the idea that Koby was thinking extensively about him in his downtime.
Enough to do the research. Enough to get the toy. Enough to practice. It makes something simmering hot flow through his chest and threatens to capsize his better sensibilities.
It's what causes him to physically pause over Koby.
It shouldn't be a surprise, really. Koby really was not the sort of guy who struck Mihawk as the sort to sleep around. Too dedicated to his duties and too shy. Still too insecure. They had never once discussed anything like commitment - why would they? They had only ever fallen together for the sake of sex, after all.
Yet something like relief creeps into Mihawk anyway. It's a foolish, stupid emotion. He was a grown man. If Koby had wanted to sleep with other men, it wouldn't have been surprising. By the sea gods, he knew he was hardly Koby's ideal sort. No, Mihawk always figured that title was reserved for the likes of Luffy.
Knowing that Koby hadn't though...He feels elated. He hadn't slept with anyone else since entering this thing with Koby either. But he was never a particularly sexual man to begin with. He doesn't realize he's come back up to look Koby in the eye, something bright and nearly starved in his gaze, uncharacteristically open for Mihawk. He grabs him by the jaw and gives him a firm kiss. One that speaks volumes: Good. You better not.)
You know who you belong to then. (A growl of words, utterly satisfied.)
[If Koby was more sober, the pause would've worried him, prompted a downward spiral of concern that was unfortunately very characteristic of him. As it is, though, all it makes him do is huff in annoyance that Mihawk's stopped doing that truly exquisite thing with his tongue.
But then the pirate is rising back up, meeting Koby's eyes, and it's surprisingly easy to read the emotion there -- dangerous and fierce as always, but also alight with a hunger Koby usually only catches glimpses of. It makes him relieved that his glasses are still in place -- he'd tried to take them off, the first time, but apparently Mihawk liked them? Strange.
In response to the look, there's an almost shy smile. Now that it's out there -- there hasn't been anyone else, there isn't now -- Koby isn't sure why he'd been so desperate to keep that secret. Because it's the truth. Luffy is -- both complex and breathtakingly simple, a symbol of all the things Koby had been too afraid to pursue for years. He's idealistic and unattainable, like trying to touch the sun.
Mihawk is intimidating, but he's real. He's flesh and heat and pleasure and sweat. Koby can reach out and touch him, know he's real. There's something about him that's addictive, that stokes the feverish hunger Koby usually tries to pretend he doesn't have.
The firm, hard kiss, the grip on his chin does that as well, sending the cadet into luxurious shivers. He's already soaked, has been since they got here, thighs pressing together to try and alleviate the insistent pulse of desire that Mihawk's words bring.]
Mmmhmm. [It's barely words, mumbled against the warlord's mouth, some irrational part of Koby wanting that hand to bruise his face, leave some physical reminder of the ferociously possessive words.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
for koby
This time though his attention had been drawn sharply to Garp's newest cadet and apparently a boy who just might wind up being Garp's new prodigy of sorts. To say he was intrigued would be an understatement. He had seen men and boys of all kinds from one edge of the world to the other. Beautiful men, handsome, cut, scrawny, muscled, skilled, stupid...He had taken a handful, but it wasn't something he rarely bothered with. He was as every bit cold as people assumed him to be - usually.
The boy, Koby, brought him back. Not that he announced that to anyone and he certainly didn't announce himself. He bypassed a dozen marines without so much as a single one noticing the infamous warlord. When he finds Koby, he doesn't bother making any sort of elaborate entrance. Just folds his arms over his chest and winds up leaning against the wall just beside Koby before the boy can even see him. Now that he's next to him, he delights silently in the guy's side profile. He had a nice nose.)
Your observational skills could use some work, cadet.
not even waiting til i have decent icons lmao
And then he's not, because there's someone right next to him and instead of thinking, he's making an incredibly undignified squawking noise that is not at all befitting of a marine.]
You -- don't do that, you -- [The identity of who he's talking to sinks in, and Koby almost reflexively salutes. But he stops, because this is a pirate. You don't salute pirates. So instead he sort of just stands there, glaring.] The -- the Vice Admiral is occupied. If that's. What you need.
who needs icon when u have a horny agenda
(He states this coolly, examining his polished nails as if there was nothing else in the world more interesting. He's not the sort of man to crack a grin even if there's a flicker of amusement at the Koby's obvious surprise.)
I couldn't help but notice that last time I was here, the Vice Admiral seemed to have taken a liking to you. (He slowly looks Koby over, from head to toe, and then slowly back up, pausing deliberately on Koby's waistline before he finally looks up to the boy's eyes.)
I've known him for a rather long time. He doesn't take a liking to his cadets. It makes me wonder...What do you offer that man?
u understand
But it's having a very...very different effect on Koby right now. He's warm, but not with anger or righteous fury. More with the almost tangible feeling of the pirate's eyes gliding down, then up again. The cadet swallows hard, trying to stand tall, to seem intimidating.
It's not super effective when the very mention of the Vice Admiral liking him prompts a hopeful, eager grin.] He does? [Then, quickly, face reddening:] Not. He does not. N-No more than anyone else. I don't -- offer anything. I don't know what you're talking about.
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(Why wouldn't the Vice Admiral like him? Those sweet eyes looking up with earnest desire for approval and understanding. Even the eager grin is endearing. Mihawk understands for a split second why others were so willing to take on students.
Ah. The blush. He feels a burning wave of warmth that nearly makes him growl. Only years of control kept him pinned to the wall rather than acting out on base instincts. He can't fully help himself though. He reaches his hand out and hooks a thumb under Koby's chin to lift his face up even further. He grips him so the cadet couldn't squirm away so easily.)
Oh? You really can't imagine why someone might want to keep a thing like you around?
(It was probably a little insulting to imply the cadet had no other merit than being pretty, but Mihawk wasn't here to be kind. He keeps his gaze on Koby, unwavering, unblinking.)
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And the blush intensifies, spreading like wildfire up the back of Koby's neck, his ears, his face, a more intense shade than his hair. Voice stammering, squeaking:] That is -- extremely inappropriate, sir. I would -- never think of the Vice Admiral like -- like that.
[Which is true. Because when Koby has those thoughts, they're always, always about pirates. Usually ones he knows (Luffy, most commonly, embarrassing and heartsick and wistful), but sometimes ones he's only seen on wanted posters (Buggy featured very prominently in his nighttime fantasies for a couple weeks). But it's always pirates. Always.]
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Why not? Not your type? The poor bastard is handsome in his own way.
(He doesn't quite smirk, but there's a lifted edge to his voice that suggests it.
Finally, he does slide his finger over that bottom lip, resting his thumb just against Koby's bottom teeth. Not quite in, but on the cusp.)
No, he wouldn't be your type, would he? He's too by the books. I think you like them a bit wild. Someone who doesn't bother with the rules.
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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.]
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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.
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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.]
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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.)
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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.]
continued tfln
Diversions are for people who lack skill and imagination. I have an abundance of both.
Are you finally drunk enough to face me then?
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DON'T make a dirty joke here.
Yes. As soon as I remember how the door works.
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Darling, as charming as I find your desperation, you should be careful. You're the kind of boy who one too many men might take advantage of if you're caught by the wrong sort.
I can always come to you.
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I'm not scared, I can walk. It's fine.
[A concerningly long pause before the next message:] Found a shortcut. Alley.
[Another pause.]
Not an empty alley.
[How does it feel to be always right, Mihawk.]
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I have no doubt about your ability to walk, Koby.
(Mihawk would never admit it to a soul alive but between the delay and the last text, there's a stitch in his brow and an unpleasant feeling in the pit of his chest.
It's all followed up by a clean, simpler rage that is far easier for him to digest.)
On my way.
(RIP the poor bastards who may or may not be hassling Koby right about now. )
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It's not other marines he runs into -- that might've been easier, considering that Koby's clear rapport with the Vice-Admiral makes him untouchable for anything more than light teasing. But instead it's a couple of ship's hands, reeking of alcohol and more than a little handsy, and they crowd into Koby's way and refuse to step aside, and he only has time to send that last message before one of them has an arm around his shoulders.
You're Garp's newest pet, arencha? the man is slurring, as his friend looks equally annoyed and anxious, and Koby tries to disentangle himself as quickly as possible. It's all anyone at the base talks about, how he's got a new favorite. They wanna know how you got his attention, what you had to do...]
Nothing. [Koby mutters it, trying to duck away, red-faced and tipsy and embarrassed, because they have it all wrong. If he's giving anyone favors, it sure as hell isn't Garp.
But apparently that's also a rumor, because the man adds, arm tightening, face twisted in a sneer: We know the truth, though. It isn't Garp that's fucking you, is it? Unless he likes to lend you out now and again. Can't blame him, you're a pretty little thing, arencha...
Maybe it's the allusion to Mihawk, or the shots or something else, but this is right about when Koby turns and punches the guy right in the face. Which is awesome, but stupid, because there's two of them and one of him, but he'll enjoy the brief surge of triumph as long as it lasts.]
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He's on the move immediately after he sends back his own text. It doesn't take long to find Koby. He always had him on his radar and a drunken Koby even more so.
Mihawk arrives just in time to see Koby deck a guy in the face. Admittedly, it's a beautiful sight and though Mihawk's expression doesn't change, he feels a swell of proud affection. There's a good boy. The thought slides in and out of his head before he moves in.)
Now, now.
(His smooth voice croons into the alley. Normally, he would just cut them down and he's sorely tempted to do so, but then it might get Koby whining at him about bloodlust. For the time being, he merely stands there, head tipped and cold gaze locked onto both of the men. The fact that he doesn't immediately kill these men might just be the biggest proof yet that he was completely smitten, really, but no one needs to know that.)
Let's not make poor choices, gentlemen. It won't end in your favor. (His eyes shift just slightly to Koby, and he tips his head to the side in a silent gesture of come here. Now.)
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[Fuckin' -- broke my nose, you little shit-- The man lurches forward, winding up to hit Koby back, when that smooth, lilting voice fills the alley. Both ruffians freeze, and despite his best intentions, pure relief floods through Koby at Mihawk's voice. Like some sort of guardian angel, as absurd as that is -- he's a pirate, a warlord, standing there silhouetted against the streetlight like a deadly predator.
There's a smile flickering across Koby's face before he can stop it, and he stands a little straighter, already moving to Mihawk's side. He doesn't even try to defy the summons, and the men notice it. The one cradling his punched face sneers: Fuckin' knew it. Got him on a tight leash, pirate? Wonder what the Marines think about that...]
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He breaks the kiss a second later, gazing at Koby.)
It would be a better situation for you if that were the case. (He finally looks over at the man.)
But unfortunately for you, this one is the closest thing I have to a treasure.
(He sighs, letting go of Koby's hand and finally pulls Yoru out from behind his back.)
And I really don't care what the Marines would think. You really are a stupid man, aren't you?
(He swings his sword out in a clean arch. It all happens in the blink of an eye. The men gape at him in their last moments of life before their bodies simply slide apart, falling to the ground, and dying soundlessly. Mihawk sighs, flicking his blade free of what little blood he managed to shed on it.)
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But he won't. He'll wake up fuzzy-headed and dry-mouthed (probably in an empty bed, reaching out for the swordsman the way he does almost every morning) and things will be hazy, but he'll remember this. Koby doesn't think it's possible he can ever forget that traitorous, treacherous thrill that runs through him when Mihawk meets his eyes. He doesn't even notice the men's quick, businesslike deaths, doesn't look around.
He doesn't look away from Mihawk for a second.
Finally, in the silence after the body bits crumple to the ground, Koby manages to find his voice again. Cradling his hand to his chest, still looking upwards, very softly:] I'm sorry. I should've...let you come to me instead.
[There's a shuddering exhale, and suddenly those wide eyes are embarrassingly bright.] I'm sorry. I -- sorry. [He doesn't know what else to say. He doesn't say what he does want to say, which is did you mean that? Were you just trying to scare them? Can you kiss me again, properly this time?]
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Don't apologize. (Koby was young. He was figuring life out and frankly, Mihawk only cared that he had gotten to Koby in time. Before anything worse could have happened. He tips his head down and gives Koby that proper kiss he was looking for, a firm press of their mouths. It lasts longer than usual and without tongue.
He breaks the kiss a second later, rubbing his thumb just beneath Koby's eye.)
Are you all right?
(It has been a long time since Mihawk has asked if someone was okay. He kept to himself and was indifferent to the suffering of others. This was different though. Koby was different.)
Next time you'll let me get you. Promise me that and you have nothing to be sorry for.
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The words get a nod, a shaky exhale, Koby closing his eyes tightly. He's starting to shiver all over, adrenaline ebbing away and letting him feel the fear that had been blocked out moments before by the need to act.] I promise. I -- thank you.
[Another exhale, then he looks upwards again, this time hopefully.] Are you all right?
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Good. (He kisses Koby again because he may or may not be relieved too.
That sweet face...Mihawk gazes back at Koby, unblinking, his expression unchanging . But there's a clenching twitch of his jaw to suggest he's not quite as composed as he seemed.)
Quite all right now.
(The closest thing he can give to admitting that he had been...anxious.)
Come here. (He exhales slowly, and with one easy motion, he's scooping Koby up into his arms, bridal style, holding him close. He would blame it on Koby being wobbly.)
Let's get you back to my room. I do recall you said you were drinking for a reason, after all. Perhaps you will be able to enlighten me once we're there.
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But right now he's trembling too hard to argue, letting himself be scooped up and held, breath shuddering, bruised hand curled to his chest. Still, he reaches out, traces his un-injured fingers across Mihawk's clenched jaw, like he's trying to soothe the tension.] You were worried?
[There's an undeniable note of hope in his voice -- the alcohols doing. That's why. That's the only reason why.
That's also why Koby bluntly answers:] I wanted to get up the courage to come surprise you. I had a whole plan. I practiced.
the way this ship has me in a chokehold and is giving me a new personality trait-
...But...I suppose I was not happy with the idea of you being caught in a situation like that, no.
(It wasn't just a possessiveness either. He just loathed the idea of anyone hurting Koby...Especially like that. But he's a dangerous man and admitting to such a thing would be even more dangerous. If anyone knew he had this soft spot, they would rush to exploit it. And Koby was the only soft spot he had ever had in his life. He holds him a bit tighter.)
Oh? (An elegant eyebrow is raised.)
Did you now? (A slight smile lifts the corner of his mouth.)
And what did this plan consist of exactly? (He was walking swiftly, cutting through alleys to get them back to his place quicker, but his attention was on Koby and Koby alone.)
seriously like my entire heart and soul and mind tbh???
Koby absently let's his fingers trail down the side of Mihawk's neck, the shivering slowly ebbing away, replaced again with the warm confidence from too many shots.] I can't tell you. It requires a practical demonstration.
[Only Koby would insist on proper protocol when post-murder flirting.]
it has EVERYTHING going for it
He holds Koby a little tighter.)
I see.
(There's the slightest suggestion of amusement in his voice.
This behavior was precisely why Koby was so good for him, okay.)
Then I shall wait with bated breath.
(Thankfully it doesn't take that long to reach their destination. He gets the door open to his room without trouble and slips inside, kicking it shut quietly behind him. Before setting Koby down, he tips his head and presses his mouth against Koby's forehead. He probably wouldn't have done that if Koby were more sober, but alas, he's still feeling a bit off-kilter from the whole situation.
He carefully sets him down.)
Now. For your practical demonstration would you prefer I sit or stand?
literally I have a 32 song playlist for them
For now, though, he's a tipsy man on a mission. After a moment of wobbling to get his balance, he waves Mihawk towards the bed, impatient and tipsy.]
Sit. Sitting is -- better. [He's bright red, already rethinking things, but -- well, Mihawk has already committed murder for him today. Why not follow through and return the favor.
Taking a deep breath, Koby slowly starts to undress, pulling off his tie and hat and unbuttoning his shirt.]
u must share it with me
This was pretty much the only reason they got together alone, so he's not surprised, but he is surprised by how endearing and attractive the display manages to be at the same time.)
I do love watching you undress.
(An appreciative murmur, but otherwise he's silent, already captivated by Koby's little plan here.)
careful what u wish for xoxo
And that's -- new. Despite the multiple times they've gone to bed together, and the fact that Mihawk's mouth has been on every other inch of his body, Koby's always insisted on keeping this piece of clothing on. It's sort of illogical, considering that Mihawk knows perfectly (and intimately) well exactly how Koby is made and what's between his legs. And, for all that the warlord can be maddening and frustrating, he's never once treated Koby as less of a man.
Maybe that's why Koby's doing this, finally letting himself be completely bare, for the first time. His shoulders are hunched forward, hands curling into fists so he doesn't instinctively cover his chest, and the jagged scars there. Though fully healed, it's clear whatever surgery left them was not careful or finessed -- the scarring is thick, deep red, still, and uneven where it stretches over Koby's ribs.
It's not a part of himself that the young marine is especially proud of. But -- Mihawk's somehow made him feel desired and cherished in an hundred different ways. Against all odds, Koby trusts him with this.]
<3
His brows do raise ever so slightly when Koby strips entirely down. It is new and he's swift to realize where the significance might be. The way Koby curls over and acts as though Mihawk might cast him aside immediately for such vulnerability. He understands now why Koby might have needed the alcohol and something in him becomes softer than crushed velvet.
His eyes wander freely, taking in the jagged scarring, and truly, he sees them no different than the scars most pirates wore except perhaps these scars were undoubtedly of braver stuff. Mihawk lets out a faint breath before he raises a hand and beckons to Koby.)
Come closer. (He needed to make up for lost time.)
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But more likely it's the lingering sensation of Mihawk's lips pressed to his forehead, the memory of that tensing jaw, the tiniest giveaway that yes, he'd been worried. This one is the closest thing I have to a treasure.
Koby will realize later that he's already too far gone, that maybe he has been this whole time, but those words had clinched it.
Now, though, he steps forward until he's standing between Mihawk's knees, shivering a little with nerves. They're nearly the same height, with the pirate sitting. Somehow it's reassuring to be able to see those eyes directly, see how they take in the jagged, inexpert scars.]
I -- bribed the ship's doctor with two bottles of rum. After a year on Alvida's ship. She was furious. The doctor ended up dead. [The words are flat, emotionless.]
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(He rumbles smoothly as Koby comes between his knees. He automatically slides his hands over Koby's hips and up the small of his back. He doesn't look away from Koby for one second, understanding that this is valuable. This was proof of Koby's defiance and courage even in the worst of situations. It fans the flames that had already been burning inside of Mihawk for some time now.)
Hmm. (He smiles ever so slightly, a rare genuine one, something akin to pride in his eyes.)
Only you would spit in the eye of such a foul-tempered pirate to chase after what you truly want.
(Nothing but admiration.)
That might just be my favorite thing about you, did you know? (He lowers his gaze to Koby's chest and bows his head to kiss the edge of one of those scars.)
Maybe you're not as strong as me. (Physically. No one really was. But...)
You're just as driven. In a different way, but you certainly have no intention of letting anything stand in your path.
(He moves to kiss the other scar, skimming his mouth across it, peppering kisses until finally he lifts his head and brings their mouths together in a short kiss.)
Would you like me to kill her for you? (It's an earnest offer. And perhaps a silent gesture of love if there ever was one.)
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Koby doesn't think much of himself, but he knows he's good at surviving. And at standing up when push comes to shove, no matter how terrifying.
The touch of lips on his scars gets a soft shiver, both hands coming up to rest at the back of Mihawk's neck, toying with his hair. There aren't words for what the gesture means, the acceptance, the warmth. But it's written all over Koby's face.
He huffs out an amused sound at the murder offer, though something dark glints in his eyes for a fraction of a second. If there was anyone he'd want to kill, it'd be Alvida, a fact that sickens him. Finally he shakes his head.]
It was a long time ago. She didn't hurt me, she just said if I wanted this so bad, I had to deal with the consequences. No shirking duties to heal up. [The bitterness is back in his voice.] I tore my stitches probably -- seven, eight times. That's why the scars are so...ugly.
[Does Koby realize that by talking about Alvida's reaction, Mihawk's going to want to kill her anyway? Maybe...]
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Ugly?
(Bloodlust for Alvida aside, mild surprise slips into his voice. He eases back to look Koby in the eye, his brow furrowed slightly. He shakes his head, guiding his hands to Koby's sides before he traces said scars with his thumbs.)
The only kind of ugly scars in this world are ones that represent failure.
(Scars on the back of a swordsman, for example, but not these. Never these. He gazes at them directly then, from side to side.)
These are perseverance. There is never anything ugly about that.
(He's not just being kind. He believes this wholly, and again, he kisses the scars. But this time, he stops to open his mouth against one of Koby's nipples and give it a gentle suck. He's not sure if Koby would be into the gesture, but only one way to find out. If he needed to, he would build up Koby's esteem about his chest. It was such a beautiful one - just like the rest of him, really. It was a crime for Koby to think otherwise.)
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He must mean them. That, more than anything, staggers Koby, coupled with the realization of just how deep in this he is. How it's no longer a passing, trivial fling. How maybe it never was.
And then all thoughts are driven away by the dizzying shock of pleasure from Mihawk's mouth on his chest. The sound Koby makes -- a gasping, needy sort of whine -- is deeply embarrassing, but he doesn't care. It's been years since anyone's touched his chest, including himself, and he'd half-believed the inexpert surgery would've resulted in a loss of feeling there.
But it definitely hasn't. If anything, Koby's especially sensitive now, knees literally buckling as his nails dig into the back of Mihawk's neck for stability.]
How did -- that isn't. That's. New. [Koby sort of gasps it out, shivering all over for a completely different reason.]
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Anything about Koby struck Mihawk as beautiful. He hadn't been lying when he said he was his ultimate treasure. More valuable than the dozens of rare jewels and treasures he had found in his time as the world's greatest swordsman. More intriguing to Mihawk than the fabled one piece.
Ah. What fun they could have been having this entire time...No matter. Mihawk was good at making up for lost time. He sucks harder on Koby's nipple until he can feel it pebbled against his tongue. He smirks.)
Mmm. (He pops off of the nipple, looking ridiculously pleased with himself. )
Is it? (A bored drawl as he moves to Koby's other nipple to clamp down on. He sucks that one to hardness too, his other hand sliding up to play with the nipple he wasn't sucking at. He lets go of both, leaning back, exhaling slowly.)
I hope you don't expect to go anywhere else for the evening. You owe me. (His hands have gone to the waist of Koby's pants, already working them open and sliding them down over his hips.)
For wandering off down a dark alley by yourself.
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Right now, though, the teasing of Mihawk's mouth and long, clever fingers against his nipples is enough to completely block out any other thoughts. Koby's hands are knotted in Mihawk's hair by the time the pirate's done, simply to keep himself upright.
There isn't even a token protest, just a wordless, whimpering sound -- yes, he owes Mihawk, he'll make it up to him, anything he wants, anything. Koby always gets to this point, beyond his reservations, beyond thinking about anything that isn't Mihawk, Mihawk's hands, Mihawk's mouth, Mihawk's cock inside him.
So he gladly steps out of the rest of his clothes, knees wobbly, thighs trembling, so turned on that his boring, Marine-issued underwear clings like a second skin, absolutely drenched.
But he does find the words to gasp out:]
Not...done with the surprise yet. [One trembling hand reaches for Mihawk's, grabbing and guiding it around, pushing down the soaked underwear at the same time so the pirate can feel the unmistakable shape of a plug, nestled snugly inside Koby's ass.
Full of surprises today, apparently.]
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Yet here he was. Stopping by wherever Koby may be more often than he has ever bothered to stop by anyone else. He watches Koby step out of his pants, devouring him plainly in sight, his eyes soaking in how wet Koby evidently already was.
But then his eyes raise up to Koby, brows quirked in mute surprise.)
Oh...?
(Then he's being guided and when his fingers brush against something hard, he has to take an actual moment to remind himself to breathe. It's far from the first time he's ever encountered a toy like this, but he would have never in all his life imagined Koby would know about that sort of thing let alone use it.
There's an unmistakable glimmer in Mihawk's eyes. Full of surprises indeed. Were he a lesser man or infinitely younger, his stoic expression may have cracked.
He lets out a breath and moves to stand instead.)
You.
(A deeper breath. He lifts Koby off the ground and moves him onto the bed in one effortless motion, laying Koby against his back, sliding onto the bed after him.)
Are the most delightful creature I've ever discovered.
(An understatement. He moves south at once, stripping Koby of that standard underwear and tossing it aside.)
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But it's all worth it for that reaction -- it's subtle, like everything Mihawk says and does, notable only in the slight brightening of those intense golden eyes. But by now, Koby has learned to read those signs, knows that he's thrown the pirate off balance, genuinely surprised him. It's a delightful, addictive feeling.
Being manhandled onto the bed is equally enjoyable, albeit much more familiar. It even gets a slightly tipsy, breathless laugh from the young cadet, who reaches out immediately, shaky fingers stroking along Mihawk's sharp cheek, his jaw.]
Good surprise? [There's a sweet, genuine note of hope in his voice, an eagerness to be praised that Koby can't ever pretend he doesn't possess. He craves every bit of approval, every sweet word, even more so because Mihawk rarely gives them. Being called things like delightful and treasure mean even more because of their rarity.]
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(Koby is cute tipsy, Mihawk discovers. He should get him drunk more often for this side of Koby. He settles down against Koby and kisses him firmly, already hard against Koby's hip. It really would have been a disaster if those two men had had their way with Koby in the alleyway...Finding him with this toy inside of him. It occurs to Mihawk then that Koby had planned to come over and...
What a minx. He grins against Koby, hiding the rare expression in their kiss as he slides his tongue into Koby's mouth. As he kisses him, he strips himself of his own pants and his hat. Everything gets tossed aside without a care, a rarity as well from Mihawk, but there are more important things to appreciate right now than neatness.
He breaks their kiss to begin kissing down the length of Koby's neck. Once he reaches his chest, he takes care with sucking at each nipple yet again, one after the other before repeating.)
Have you ever- (A pause between licks.)
Taken a man like that before? (He's doubtful, but he wants to make sure anyway. Granted, the plug would have taken care of most of the work, but still. Some people were rather skittish about that sort of thing.)
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But it's all worth it, having the long, lean, muscled form of Mihawk pressed against him, kissing him deep and possessive. Even the alleyway is forgotten, in favor of Koby getting his hands all up in the pirate's hair, pulling him even closer, panting against his mouth when they finally pull apart.
And then Mihawk is moving back downwards, and Koby has truly created a monster. A chest-tormenting monster. The question comes in between those teasing, maddening licks and sucks, each one sending electric pulses of pleasure right down the young cadet's spine, pooling hot between his legs.
And Koby's so distracted, so thoroughly caught up in how good it feels that he tells the truth without thinking, breathless and whimpering:] N-No. Never been with -- anyone else, s-so.
[Which Mihawk probably already guessed, but this is the first time Koby's admitted it aloud.]
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Enough to do the research. Enough to get the toy. Enough to practice. It makes something simmering hot flow through his chest and threatens to capsize his better sensibilities.
It's what causes him to physically pause over Koby.
It shouldn't be a surprise, really. Koby really was not the sort of guy who struck Mihawk as the sort to sleep around. Too dedicated to his duties and too shy. Still too insecure. They had never once discussed anything like commitment - why would they? They had only ever fallen together for the sake of sex, after all.
Yet something like relief creeps into Mihawk anyway. It's a foolish, stupid emotion. He was a grown man. If Koby had wanted to sleep with other men, it wouldn't have been surprising. By the sea gods, he knew he was hardly Koby's ideal sort. No, Mihawk always figured that title was reserved for the likes of Luffy.
Knowing that Koby hadn't though...He feels elated. He hadn't slept with anyone else since entering this thing with Koby either. But he was never a particularly sexual man to begin with. He doesn't realize he's come back up to look Koby in the eye, something bright and nearly starved in his gaze, uncharacteristically open for Mihawk. He grabs him by the jaw and gives him a firm kiss. One that speaks volumes: Good. You better not.)
You know who you belong to then. (A growl of words, utterly satisfied.)
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But then the pirate is rising back up, meeting Koby's eyes, and it's surprisingly easy to read the emotion there -- dangerous and fierce as always, but also alight with a hunger Koby usually only catches glimpses of. It makes him relieved that his glasses are still in place -- he'd tried to take them off, the first time, but apparently Mihawk liked them? Strange.
In response to the look, there's an almost shy smile. Now that it's out there -- there hasn't been anyone else, there isn't now -- Koby isn't sure why he'd been so desperate to keep that secret. Because it's the truth. Luffy is -- both complex and breathtakingly simple, a symbol of all the things Koby had been too afraid to pursue for years. He's idealistic and unattainable, like trying to touch the sun.
Mihawk is intimidating, but he's real. He's flesh and heat and pleasure and sweat. Koby can reach out and touch him, know he's real. There's something about him that's addictive, that stokes the feverish hunger Koby usually tries to pretend he doesn't have.
The firm, hard kiss, the grip on his chin does that as well, sending the cadet into luxurious shivers. He's already soaked, has been since they got here, thighs pressing together to try and alleviate the insistent pulse of desire that Mihawk's words bring.]
Mmmhmm. [It's barely words, mumbled against the warlord's mouth, some irrational part of Koby wanting that hand to bruise his face, leave some physical reminder of the ferociously possessive words.]