You ask Law what his kink is
Content Warning: NSFW, minors DNI, you're feeling bratty
Law traces his long, slender fingers down your spine, his touch agonizingly slow.
Heâs tracing loopsâor perhaps heâs writing a prescription on your skinâand you canât tell which. Every nerve ending he passes flares. You shiver. Law exhales, the vibration of a chuckle rumbles against your skin.
"I like when I can make you do that," he murmurs. His voice is gravel grinding.
You roll onto your back, steadying your breath, and catch his hand as it slides toward your stomach. Before he can claim more territory, you slip two of his fingers into your mouth. You suck to the E and A on his knuckles. Hard.
Law raises his eyebrows. "Oh?"
You pull back, your lips parting with a lewd, sharp pop.
"I'm not continuing until you tell me your kink, Captain," you challenge. You do well to keep your voice steady despite the flip-flop of your stomach.
Law's hand twitches in your own. For a fraction of a second, the Surgeon of Death looks caught off-guard, his eyes widening before narrowingâsharper and hungrier than before.
"My kink," he repeats slowly, as if the words are thick on his tongue.
"Yeah," you breathe. "What is it that actually gets youâ"
"I know what it is," he interjects, a rare interruption; his voice dropping an octave.
Law doesn't wait for your permission. In one fluid motion, his hands encircle your wrists. He brings them taut above your head, a little rough but mostly predatory. He cages you in with his body; you feel the muscles of his abs bunching and coiling tighter against you.
"I thought you knew," he rasps against the shell of your ear. His breath is hot. "In the ROOM or in my room⌠you don't moan, you don't twitch, you don't even breathe unless I allow it."
"Control isn't just a preference. It's who I am," he asserts, his palm sliding down to cradle the curve of your hip. "I like to see how things work. I like to take things apart. I want to see exactly how you come undone for me."
A dark, dangerous smirk tugs at the corner of his thin lips. He watches your pupils dilate; he tracks the shallow hitch of your chest. "Now I want you to keep your lips right here," he hisses, guiding your face to the crook of his neck. His inked fingers tangle deep in your hair. "I want to hear you."
He shambles his underwear away and reaches down to push your panties aside. You wrap one hand around his broad shoulders and reach between your legs with the other. You line up the pulsing heat of his cock with your slick folds.
He drives into you, the thick length stretching you. "So wet for me," Law grunts as he bottoms out. He kisses your neck, not exactly tender but there's a hunger between the press of his lipsâlike he wants to bite, but is holding back.
You raise your hips just as he pulls back to begin rutting into you. Each thrust slaps his weight against the curve of your ass. You reach back and stroke the underside of his shaft, dragging your fingertips down the seam of his balls.
"Ah, heyâ" Law gasps as his hips stutter. He reaches for, and then brings your hand back up over your head. "Don't be a difficult patient," he rasps.
You giggle. Law doubles down on his next thrust. "Your laugh is even worse," he grunts, biting his lip to keep it together. Your breasts bounce against his chest; you can feel his heart thumping fast against your belly.
Law's pace is relentless, a rhythmic heavy friction that has your vision swimming. He reaches between your legs, his fingertips stroking your clit with clinical precision. Just as your breath hitches into a high-pitched whine, Law suddenly stills. He stays buried inside you, but he freezes, his muscles locking.
"Law, pleaseâ" you gasp, your hips rolling shallowly.
"Did I tell you to finish?" he asks as he pulls back, nearly sliding out entirely. When you try to arch your hips into him, he presses you back down. "You're going to stay here with me, right on the edge. Until you're shaking."
He begins to move again, but it's different nowâslower, shallow strokes. He alternates a single, deep thrust in. You moan, your body clenching around him.
"That's it," he commands. "Focus on me."
The sensory overload has you adrift. Your toes curl. You gasp sharply.
"Say my name and I'll let you come," Law says, his E and A fingers returning to your throbbing clit. "You're so close," he whispers. He strokes.
"Law," you sob, coming hard around his cock. Each flutter of your orgasm makes your legs tremble.
The sound of you saying his name pulls Law over the edge. He comes with a soft gruntâa dark, jagged exhale against your neck. You feel each throb of him inside you.
He pulls out, his cum and your slickness dripping hot onto your thighs. He collapses back against the pillow, pulling you with him. The room is heavy with the scent of salt air and skin. Law's breath mingles with yours, finally evening out into a slow, rhythmic drag. The silence is thick, broken only by the distant creak of the Polar Tangâs hull.
He doesn't pull away. Instead, he shifts just enough to look at you.
"Now that weâve established my preferences," he rasps, his voice a low, vibrating hum that settles in the space between your skin.
"Tell me," he murmurs, his eyes locking onto yours with a heavy, magnetic weight.
"What's your kink?"