#young mihawk

Whatever else Bogard had to say on the matter fell on deaf ears as Mihawk, following his comment about you, dropped the reciever of the den den mushi back onto the desk, ending the call. He lowered his hand, tracing his fingers slowly along the length of your innter thigh, slipping his other out of your bra and behind your back to toy with the clasp holding it shut.

“To think you’ve spent the better part of two months hiding yourself from me,” he murmured. He sighed, hsaking his head, his fingertips trailing a path over the edge of your panties and over the curve of your bare waist seemed to leave tendrils of flame in their wake. “Such a waste of valuable time.” You bit your lip against a whimper as he deftly slipped the claps of your bra loose, lifting his hands to gently brush the straps down your shoulders, pulling the garment away from you. “And now we’re left with only two days to correct it.”

And he stopped, cupping his hands beneath your breasts, his thumbs halting so close to the stiff points of your erect nipples, your head such a fog that it was difficult to convince yourself this wasn’t all a much too vivid dream.

“You’re trembling, my pet,” he informed you in a light, amused tone, as if you weren’t already aware. You were shaking all over, anxious, anticipating, dying to hear his next words, craving his next touch. I am curious—how many men have had you before?”

You bit down harder on your lip, clenching your eyes shut, flaring with embarrassment at the blunt question. You could barely form a single thought already—the thought of admitting that made your head spin all the more violently.

“I asked you a question.”

“None—” you gasped out, gripping so hard at the edge of the chair that you thought you might tear the upholstery if you couldn’t will yourself to stop. You swallowed, your heart accelerating as you focused every ounce of your attention on his lips caressing your jaw, on his hands pushing up your breasts, on anything but the subject at hand. “N...none.”

“Not one?” His slight astonishment didn’t sound feigned, seemed perfectly honest, and you nodded quickly, wishing he would move his hands, in any direction, whether further away or even closer. He hummed quietly. “I did wonder, with how concerned your rear admiral seemed—no?” He chuckled as you shook your head rapidly. You had never mixed work with pleasure, had never even thought to, and Bogard was your commanding officer, had never been anything but professional. “I find it difficult to believe none of your fellow cadets would have taken interest in such a pretty little thing.”

“N—n-no—” You stammered as he finally pulled the rough pads of his thumbs across your nipples. You felt him draw in a sharp breath as you lowered your hand to grip his thigh, arch your back, unintentionally grinding yourself back against the stiff bulge at the front of his pants. His breath released as a low growl vibrating against your neck, and he rewarded you for the unexpected stab of pleasure by pressing down lightly on your sensitive nipples and massaging them in slow, small circles.

“No one,” he repeated with a sigh, quickly regaining control of himself, grinding against your hips when that single taste of gratification wasn’t enough. “So innocent.” He drew in a slow, deep breath, pressing his lips hard against your neck for a moment. “That’s as good as a crime, for such a lovely creature to be untouched for so long…”

Your eyes snapped open, staring down to watch his left hand as it slipped down from your breast, his fingertips drifting like feathers down the soft plane of your stomach.

“I hardly have any choice but to make it right myself.”

Further, lower, beneath the dip of your navel, brushing across the waist of your panties—his other hand lifting away from your breast, his breath hot against your jaw as he curled it beneath your chin and spoke with his lips barely brushing the corner of your mouth.

“Turn your head.” You bit your lip, unable to tear your eyes from his hand halted at your waist, his fingertips caressing across the top of your panties. If you looked at him, allowed your eyes to lock with his for even a moment, it would all be real.

“Turn,” he repeated slowly, his voice still an intimate murmur, though a bit firmer in his command, “your head, pet. That wasn’t a request. No,” he said, shaking his head as your eyes snapped shut and you started to turn. “You will keep your eyes open. I want you here, not somewhere else.”

He knew exactly what you were trying to do. Trying to close your eyes, imagine you were somewhere else, anywhere else, that this really was all a strange dream, that you weren’t willingly going against your mission in favor of the promise of carnal pleasure—

“I would hate to have to punish my little bird,” he murmured, though from the way he pulled you back against him, close enough that you felt the throbbing of his arousal against your lower back, he hardly seemed that put off by the thought. “Especially when we’re in the middle of enjoying ourselves.” He lifted his hand from your chin, brushed your hair back from your temple and tucked it behind your ear, trailing his fingers down your neck. “Look at me, pretty girl.”

Your eyes drifted open as you turned your head, and your heart exploded into arrhythmia the moment they locked with his—hearing him murmur that pet name in your ear, as much a taunt as it was a sultry invitation, made it impossible for you to turn away. He said it so quietly, so tenderly, so salaciously that you obeyed him automatically, staring wide-eyed into the mingling amusement and hunger in his gaze. He brushed his knuckles below your chin and settled his fingertips at the edge of your hairline, at your temple.

“You belong to me now,” he said, tilting his head slightly and leaning in. “Do not forget that.”

You swallowed, unable to move at all now that your gaze was locked with his, the sharp yellow orbs holding you in place as if by some irresistible magnetic force. He still wasn’t moving either, except to stroke his thumb across your lips. Your eyes flashed down toward his other hand, wondering why he didn’t continue, wishing he would, you had done everything he asked.

“What is it, my darling pet? Did you want me to touch you? Yes?” he chuckled when you nodded several times. “You have followed most of my orders well,” he allowed, dragging his knuckles down your neck, down your collorbone, resting his hand over your breast. “I might...if you can ask nicely.”

You had no choice. The dull, throbbing ache between your thighs, only a couple inches beneath his fingertips, it was too much to bear now. Too good to resist. He seemed bent on enjoying your growing desperation as long as possible before he gave you anything else, and you had no choice but to play along.

“Please—plea…” And bent on making it as difficult as possible, as he brushed his lips to your jaw, to the corner of your mouth. You licked your lips, your mouth gone dry from your erratic breathing. “Please t—touch me,” you breathed, your eyes clenching shut briefly, a small whimper escaping you as he tightened his grip on your breast, his palm rubbing across your oversensitive nipple. But you forced them back open quickly—he had told you to keep them open, there was no choice in that. “Please…”

“‘Please’ what?”

You swallowed dryly, immediately grasping his meaning—then bluring out what he was looking for in a pained cry as he pinched your nipple hard between his thumb and forefinger.

“P-please—mm—master—please t-touch—”

But your desperate pleas were cut short, muffled as he crushed his lips so hard against yours that it nearly hurt. By the sharp breath he inhaled and the ferocity of his brief kiss he must have approved, even if his grip on your breast had tightened to the point that it pulled another gasp of pain from you—yet it also sent a jolt though you that made you pull your thighs a bit tighter against the throbbing pressure between them. He abruptly broke away, exhaling a slow sigh as he loosened his hand.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked lightly, gently massaging the soft mound under his grasp so you released your breath in a shaking sigh. He raised his eyebrows, waiting for you to respond, but all you could find the will to do was offer a short nod. “Oh, dear…” He lifted his hand to your cheek, brushing his thumb across your trembling bottom lip. “I’ll need to take care not to forget how delicate you are.” Your eyes fluttered shut as his lips brushed a tender kiss against the corner of your mouth. “I would hate to break my new toy when I’ve hardly yet had a chance to play with it.”

You glanced down as he pulled his other hand away from your stomach, shifting it to your waist—and he stood so suddenly that you three your arms around his neck with a cry of alarm, sure he would shove you right to the floor at his feet for a moment. Instead he hooked an elbow under your knees, cradling you in his arms and resting his forehead against yours.

“I suppose I ought to atone for my carelessness.”

You couldn’t have torn your gaze away from his sharp yellow eyes if you wanted to, from the ever present devilish spark glowing in their depths, unaware of where you were being carried until he lay you across the elongated daybed across the room at the huge window stretching up to an arch at the high ceiling, where he had spent much of his spare time reading with you perched near his side in your devil fruit form over the last several weeks. He brushed a few books off of it, letting them fall over the edge and to the stone floor without a care for where they landed.

You fought the impulse to cover yourself as his eyes passed slowly over you, certain he would only tug your hands aside if you tried to. You instead shifted back against the cushions behind you, your gaze flickering to his hand tracing a slow path up your inner thigh. A shiver crept through you as his light touch passed over the small triangle that was the front of your plain white panties, continuing slowly up the flat plane of your stomach—up, between your breasts as he pushed your legs apart with his knee, up to your neck to curl beneath your chin as you lay your head back on the pile of throw pillows.

He planted his elbow on the bed above your shoulder, and a soft whimper left you at the caress of his lips at the other side of your neck. You gripped at the edge of the mattress at the powerful, pleasurable quiver between your thighs that came with the delicate path his lips traced along the curve of your neck, your breath entering and leaving your lungs in short, halting bursts.

“You are truly exquisite,” he murmured, so close to your ear that his lips brushed across it. His fingers curled into your hair near your temple and you found yourself turning your head toward the light touch automatically, arching your hips as his other hand gripped at the soft flesh of your rear. His low chuckle in your ear alone was enough to pull a soft moan from somewhere in your chest. “And so sensitive. You really haven’t been touched before, have you, my pet?”

As he shifted to shove off his coat before he moved his hand up your hip, lacing his fingers around the side of your underwear, trailing his lips across your neck, you finally dared to glance down. You immediately regretted doing so as your breath stuttered to a halt and your eyes became glued to him. You had seen him shirtless before, but never so close, much less pinning you into such a compromising position beneath him. You gripped the mattress under you a little tighter, wondering whether he would be angry if you lifted your hands to touch his broad shoulders, to feel his powerful, solid chest under your palms; to brush your fingers over his sleep, jet black hair or the contours of his high cheekbones and angular jaw.

The temptation was quickly growing too great to bear—at least when he had been behind you you couldn’t see the slow rising and falling of his chest, or how each muscle in his strong upper arms flexed as his hands explored across your nearly naked body.

You could ask.

The prospect filled you with such intense anxiety that you were sure you would faint, even before you could feel his skillful hands delve below the waist of your panties. You swallowed as his lips brushed your jaw, closing your eyes for a moment and drawing in a slow, deep breath, drawing up every ounce of resolve in your mind and body to find the ability to speak.

“C...can...can I touch you—mm—master?”

You couldn’t muster more than a whisper, but he had heard you—he paused with his lips grazing the crook of your neck, and your heart stopped briefly with the cessation of his movement, your fingers digging into the edge of the mattress. Maybe you shouldn’t have asked, shouldn’t have even spoken without permission. Perhaps that wasn’t as bad as laying your hands on him, on his pale skin stretched taut across his lean, toned torso and his roguishly handsome face; but it was still surely punishable, enough to irritate him if the pressure of his fingertips digging into your waist and stomach were any indication.

Then he sighed slowly, his breath quavering as he loosened his grip. Your own breath left you in a sigh as well when he combed his fingers down through your hair, down until you could turn your cheek into the warmth of his rough palm.

“Do you really have to ask, dear?”

The brief disruption in his composure was gone in a flash in his light, amused tone. The question was rhetorical on its surface, but anything could be a test. Any oversight could potentially get you into trouble, and you were too vulnerable in your present situation to be able to do anything to counteract it. You swallowed again, and managed to force yourself to speak up. It was only a mumble, a trembling murmur, but at least it was more than a whisper this time.

“I...didn’t want to...to make you angry, sir.”

There was nothing disapproving in his quiet chuckle—if it was a test, you had passed. You lay your head back in a low, breathy moan as he brushed his lips to the column of your throat. “As reward for your obedience…”

The warm vibration of his murmur at your jaw, just below your chin, had you clenching your thighs around his knee, arching your back and your hips in a futile attempt to find some respite from the unbearable, swelling pressure throbbing between them. He shifted his other knee between your legs, forcing them apart again, refusing to allow you any relief. You felt his lips brush across your own and drew in a sharp breath as the quiet sound of his deep voice alone lifted goosebumps all over your body.

“You may.”

For a brief, terrifying moment, your hands refused to move.

Your shoulders tensed as you fought the anxiety crippling you from loosening your death-grip on the mattress beneath you—he couldn’t grant you permission if he didn’t want you to, and for you to falter now would surely do nothing more than annoy him.

Then he lifted your head, pressing his lips fully to yours, and every muscle in your body relaxed in the brief, firm kiss. You lifted your hand nearest the window, trembling, until your fingertips grazed the hard muscle adorning his thick upper arms. You gasped at the shock it sent through your body, pulling your hand away for a moment as the warmth of his skin seemed to scorch your fingers.

Then you lifted it further, your eyes fluttering shut at the delightful sensation of his lips gingerly grazing your cheek, and let your palm rest against his broad shoulder. Your other rose from the edge of the mattress, as if longing of its own accord to feel the heat of his body beneath it, and you felt as much as you heard his slow sigh as you trailed your fingertips up the hard plane of his chest, up the cords of his strong neck and jaw. Your breath stuttered to an astonished halt when your reached his sharp cheekbone and he leaned toward your touch, brushing a kiss to your lips as your fingertips slipped into his soft, dark hair.

“Is it your intention to break my will?” he asked lightly. His amusement was still present, but there was a quiet purr in his deep, sensual murmur that made your heart flutter and your breath catch. You quickly shook your head—and then gasped, digging your fingertips into his scalp and his muscular shoulder when he pressed a hard kiss to your neck and sucked the tender skin into his mouth, biting down lightly. He exhaled a slow, heavy breath of air before pressing his lips there again, gingerly, lightly grazing his tongue against the same spot.

“Are you quite sure?” You nodded automatically—you had barely done anything at all, nothing you thought would affect him remotely as much as it would you. “You do possess quite a talent for fooling me.” You opened your eyes when you felt his forehead rest against yours, and found his gaze boring into you, challenging you to show any sign of dishonesty. You swallowed, unable to blink as you stared straight back into his eyes. “Your talent for acting is nothing short of captivating.”

You swallowed as you felt his hand creep across your stomach, below your navel, his fingers curling around the edge of your panties again.

“But it makes it difficult to know whether you’re lying,” he went on, his lips grazing yours with each murmured word. You couldn’t breathe as he curled his fingers in your hair. “I can hardly tell without seeing your eyes.”

His fingertips, brushing across the small, thin triangle of fabric that barely covered your intense arousal.

“Tell me….” He brushed his thumb across your burning cheek. “Who is it you belong to?”

“Y—you,” you said automatically—and hurried to correct yourself when he lifted his eyebrows. “You, sir—y-you’re my master.”

He pressed his lips firmly to yours, drawing in a sharp breath as his tongue teased against your bottom lip, drawing a sharp moan up from your chest before releasing you.

“And should I reward my pretty little pet for being such a good girl?”

The pressure was unbearable now, as he pressed his palm down onto your lower abdomen to still your involuntary squirming beneath him, to stop you from arching your hips toward his light, teasing caresses.

“You sucked in a sharp breath through your teeth as he pushed his hand into your panties without warning—but he kept it still, only resting his palm over the heat of your arousal, barely brushing his fingertips against the mound, smirking as you uttered a low, agonized moan of protest.

“Y—yes, sir,” you breathed, nodding quickly. You needed it, needed to feel his skillful touch against your throbbing center, to feel the push of his fingers at your entrance, needed more. “Y-yes, master, please—”

“You will tell me when you’re close, pet. Until I allow it, you aren’t to come.”

You fixed your eyes on his and nodded quickly in response to his low warning, your heart racing in anticipation. You were apt to lose yourself the moment he applied the slightest pressure, but you would deal with the repercussions if it meant finding some relief from this agony. He brushed his lips to yours, and his next words gave you pause, made your eyes widen and your heart stop as you immediately reconsidered the possibility of defiance.