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The third time they wind up in bed, Law realizes that if he doesn’t do something soon he’ll be condemning himself to an endless series of throttled orgasms.
Because he’s certainly not about to stop jumping Strawhat’s bones. Sex with Luffy is scaldingly intense, and the way Luffy looks at him—the way he touches him, the way he wants to fuck all the time—all of those things go right to Law’s head. A single heated glance in his direction is enough to make Law’s temperature rise, and the noises Luffy makes when Law gets him off are nearly enough to make the whole thing worth it all on their own.
But.
Law would also really, really like to get off himself, without having to drag himself over the finish by biting his tongue or digging his nails into his hip.
The problem is, Luffy is gentle. Oh, he’s fast and rough about getting them into bed, dragging off clothes and pushing Law down, but when it actually comes to fucking him, hell. Law wouldn’t have thought it possible for someone brimming with so much energy to be so careful, but he is, oh, he is, and that care makes Law’s heart squeeze in his chest in the most wrenching way and also, by way of ironic corollary, makes it almost impossible for him to get off.
Because this is what Law has known about himself since even before he figured out that he just doesn’t like sex very much, under most circumstances and with most people: he needs pain to get off. Any pain, so long as it’s sharp and immediate and simultaneous—which is why he’s able to, more or less, make do for himself, sending the needed spark to wherever the wires are crossed in his head.
But having to give that push to himself in the middle of sex that he actually likes, that he actually wants to be having—it’s like suddenly having to break out the oars when a moment ago the sails were pulling the ship full speed ahead. It’s frustrating in the extreme, and Law keeps finding himself just close enough to feel where he’s headed and then realizing that he’s going to have to get there all on his own, because for all Luffy’s innate impatience he will never, ever hurt Law in bed.
Unless, of course, Law asks him for it. Unless he comes out and tells Luffy that he needs Luffy to hurt him, because without that his orgasms are a frustrating washed-out version of the real thing.
And he’s not at all sure he wants to do that, considering. Given his experience of Luffy’s affection so far it seems entirely possible that having to hurt Law could ruin the whole affair for him, and if Luffy won’t do it then he’ll probably be distressed that Law’s not getting off, and that could push him away altogether. And Law would very much like to keep having sex with him, even if that means settling for his own part in it being mediocre.
But, fuck. He would like to get off without expending excessive effort, considering that in every other respect sex with Luffy is the best sex he’s ever had in his life.
The fourth time, the problem resolves itself.
*
Their fourth time takes place in an inn room, stealing a night together while their crews drink and party across three different common rooms in the harbor. There’s a dozen other pirate ships anchored at the same port, no navy presence to speak of, and a dealer’s choice of diversions, fueled by the island’s vigorous illicit trade—all of which means that for one night nobody cares where the captains of their respective crews are, and Law is able to shove a stack of coins across the bar at a halfway decent establishment and get a big bed and fur rugs to boot.
Despite which, of course, they promptly end up on the floor—not that this diminishes Law’s reasons for congratulating himself on his choice of accommodations. The floorboards in this place are polished, so at least he doesn’t get splinters in his back when Luffy lays him out barely two feet from the bed.
The moment he’s down Luffy is crawling over him, licking his way into Law’s mouth, hands sliding under Law’s shirt. Luffy is eager, fever-hot where they touch, and Law gets caught up in his pace like he always does, drinking down kiss after kiss and shivering as Luffy’s attention strays to his jaw and the sensitive spot under his ear. Luffy kisses him like he can’t get enough of it, and that suits Law just fine, because he can’t get enough of it, either. Maybe the novelty will wear off eventually, but it hasn’t yet: every time Luffy catches his mouth it bowls him right over, just like the very first time. Because every time he can feel how much Luffy wants him; can feel Luffy just as breathless as he is, as urgent as he is, steadily losing track of everything save their bodies moving together.
Luffy is already taking the lead, because of course he is—and god, but Law likes that about him, likes the way his own hands get thrown suddenly back over his head as Luffy settles over his lap, the press of Luffy’s knee between his own making him spread his thighs.
And then Luffy shifts slightly wrong, and pinches Law’s dick against his inseam.
Law’s whole body jerks. A choked sound punches out of him, and those goddamn crossed wires inside him spark like a short circuit, half-mast arousal encountering pain.
Luffy yelps, “Shit, sorry, Torao! Sorry, sorry—”
Keeping back his groan is impossible. It comes out loud and desperate, and Luffy shuts up mid-phrase, staring down at him with wide eyes. There’s no way, no way at all, for him to miss the involuntary shudder that wrenches through Law, causing his eyelids to flutter.
Law is left staring at the wooden beams of the ceiling, chest heaving. He has absolutely no idea what to say.
“Wow,” Luffy says, eyes still very round. He’s looking at Law so intently it’s like being held under a magnifying glass on a clear day, burning up in a concentrated beam of the sun, and all Law can do is lie there, trapped at some calcified midpoint between breathtaking arousal and being totally blank with self-horror. “Torao,” Luffy says slowly, “did you like that?”
Law’s breath shudders out of him. “Fuck, Luffy, yes.” Then, all in a rush: “I want—I want it to hurt. I want you to hurt me, please,” and his voice is so needy that he can’t stand it, but god, oh, god, he can’t bear another night of Luffy’s tender care, not after that. “Hit me. Pull my hair. Anything.”
For a long moment Luffy just stares at him, kneeling over him, and Law’s stomach sinks. He doesn’t want to. He’s disgusted. He’s—
Luffy slaps him across the face.
The blow is open-handed and hard, knocking Law’s head to the side. The sting that ignites in his face goes straight to his dick, and Law gasps harshly, hips trying to lift off the floor beneath Luffy. The casual strength behind the slap, the sure knowledge that this is Luffy pulling his punches, hits him almost as hard as the actual contact, instantly filling his cock. Law pants, stunned, cheekbone pressed to the floor.
Luffy watches him carefully through all of this, not looking away. “Like that?” he asks.
“Fuck,” Law breathes, feeling like he’s ascended to some impossible, spectacular higher plane of existence, so hard he can feel his own pulse between his legs. “Exactly like that.”
Luffy hums, gaze sliding with thoughtful interest down over Law’s body, then back up. He rises up on his knees for more leverage, and reaches up to press Law’s hands together against the floor, pinning him down. Law turns his head to look up at him, breathing hard, anticipation thrumming inside him. Luffy’s hand on his palms is like iron, welding him to the spot, and Luffy’s free hand traces lightly over his jaw, down Law’s neck to his sternum. There Luffy detours to undo the buttons of Law’s shirt, all the way down; the shirt slips open, baring the rise and fall of his breast. Luffy’s fingertips come to rest over Law’s tattooed jolly roger, five pinpoint touches, and Law stares down at that hand, waiting with bated breath to find out what Luffy is going to do.
Luffy’s fingers slip lightly down Law’s front to his stomach, causing the muscles there to jump, then down over the bulge in Law’s jeans. His palm settles over Law’s crotch; Law bites his lip, and can’t hold back the short groan that yanks out of him when Luffy gives him a harsh squeeze. His hips buck into that touch, and Luffy snickers and says, “Wow, Torao. You did like that.”
He returns his attention to Law’s chest, and Law inhales sharply as Luffy’s fingers trace along his tattoos before circling tantalizingly around his right areola, not touching the nipple. Law’s mouth goes dry with anticipation.
Without warning, Luffy pinches his nipple between two knuckles, and gives it a brutal twist.
Law cries out, his back arching, legs spreading wider to push his heels into the floor. His cock jolts, and Luffy doesn’t let go: he just keeps pinching, pulling up until Law is a straining arc underneath him, kept off the floor by that single agonizing point of contact. Law writhes, choking on air, drowning in sudden, overwhelming sensation. It hurts so bad—so good—and he can’t get away from it, can’t do anything but buck and swear and make stupid animal sounds, letting Luffy torment him.
When Luffy finally lets go Law falls back with eyes flung wide, gulping huge breaths of air. The pain still throbs in his chest, radiating from the abused nipple, and he’s distantly aware of a wet spot spreading inside his underwear, precome dribbling out of him.
Luffy doesn’t let him catch his breath. He pinches Law’s other nipple, and pulls up again.
Law’s body reacts just the same, straining up with the motion, pleasure rippling through him alongside the pain. Tears sting at his eyes, and he half-whimpers as Luffy keeps pulling, adding a mean little twist.
Luffy’s eyes dance with interest, watching his face. He asks, obviously delighted, “Torao, are you close?”
Law is so close there’s a funny weak feeling spreading down through his thighs, making them start to tremble. He’d like to think himself capable of lasting longer, but the whole situation—Luffy holding him down, watching him, fascinated by how pain is making Law’s body jump like a live wire—is driving him right out of his mind. His cock throbs inside his jeans, his underwear are so wet that they’re clinging to his tip, and the burn in his chest is almost, almost enough. He moans into his bitten lip, then releases it to say, “Fuck! Fuck, Luffy—”
Grinning, Luffy releases the nipple to rake his nails hard down Law’s side. Law hisses in appreciation; the tip of his cock catches and slips against the wet spot he’s already made in his underwear, and he feels a warning tightening of his balls. Just a little more. All he needs is one more little push, one more little burst of sensation. His eyes meet Luffy’s, Luffy still looking down at him with the edges of his lips curling up, and Law thinks, Please, please, please—
And then Luffy leans down and bites him, sinking his teeth into the join of Law’s neck and shoulder.
Law shouts. The pain lights him up, and he comes sudden and hard, jerking underneath Luffy, spilling into his jeans. His hips buck, pushing out spurt after spurt, pleasure spasming though his body.
Luffy pulls suddenly back, letting go of Law’s hands to roughly undo his own fly, leaving Law in a dazed sprawl beneath him. Luffy yanks down his underwear, pulls out his dick, and gives himself a few frantic jerks, saying in a squeezed voice, “Torao, I’m gonna—”
“Yes,” Law gasps, “yes, please,” and scrambles to sit up and tilt forward, face upturned.
Luffy swears. His shaft smacks weightily against Law’s cheek, and Law groans as the first spurt of come splatters across his face, leaning into it. His own hips give another stuttering jerk, vividly acquainting him with the sticky-wet mess in his own pants, and he shudders hard, suffused by the sheer filthy ecstasy of Luffy coming all over his face. Luffy comes a lot: it runs over Law’s cheekbones, drips from his lowered eyelashes, coats his lips, and Law moans brokenly in appreciation, feeling debauched and anointed and perfect, covered in Luffy’s come.
By the time Luffy’s done Law is firmly back at half-mast, savagely turned on by the evidence of Luffy’s orgasm cooling across his cheeks and his mouth. He doesn’t think he’s ever recovered so quickly, and when he licks thoughtlessly over his lips and tastes Luffy’s come he’s seized by an urgent need to put his mouth over Luffy’s cock, to suck another orgasm from him and swallow all of it down.
And Luffy isn’t even going soft, which may or may not have something to do with his weird physiology, and somewhere in the back of Law’s head the part of him that’s never stopped being fascinated by what living things look like turned inside out ardently wants to ask—but Law’s going to do that later, because right now Luffy’s cock is still dripping a bit at the tip, and pointing squarely at Law’s lips.
Law doesn’t need more of an invitation than that. He shifts hurriedly onto his knees, takes Luffy’s dick in his hand, and leans in to lick a savoring stripe up the side, winning an appreciative shiver and a hand in his hair. He sets about cleaning Luffy up, licking with the flat of his tongue, mouthing along Luffy’s length all the way down to his balls. His thumb rubs careful circles into Luffy’s tip while he bends down to suck each of Luffy’s balls, and once he’s licked his way sloppily back up to the cockhead he puts his mouth over it, starting to suck and bob his head. His lips stretch around the girth, his eyes sliding helplessly closed.
The tactile detail of Luffy’s cock in his mouth has him almost painfully hard again, and Law reaches up to close his hand over Luffy’s in his hair, silently begging him to close his fingers. Luffy says, “Fuck, Torao,” his voice satisfyingly breathy, and tightens his hand until Law feels that sweet sting in his scalp.
Law reaches hurriedly down to his own fly—
And gasps with pleasure-pain as Luffy’s hand in his hair gives him a sharp warning tug. “Don’t touch yourself.” The little growl in Luffy’s voice makes Law’s cock twitch hard, going so stiff in his jeans he’s once again unpleasantly aware of both inseam and zipper. Almost in afterthought, Luffy adds, “And don’t come. Focus on me, ’cause I’m gonna give it to you so hard.”
Law’s eyes snap open—and then Luffy starts pulling Law onto himself, shoving his cock too far back into Law’s throat. Law chokes, his eyes watering, and makes urgent little sounds around each thrust, gagging on that hard curve.
The brutal intrusion has him slobbering over it, spit running messily down his chin. Luffy is using him, looking down at him like it’s simply the way of things for Law to be a hole for him to fuck, and that casual entitlement and disinterest winds Law up even more, makes him want to do anything that might break through that lust-fogged remove. He pushes himself harder, takes Luffy’s dick deeper, swallowing steadily and relaxing his throat. It earns him a sudden grunt, the taste of Luffy’s precome spreading over the back of his tongue, and Law pulls back, curling his tongue around Luffy’s cockhead and lapping a bit at the tip.
“Don’t tease, Torao.” Luffy pushes down on his head, making Law take him again. Law wants to touch himself so badly that he’s fisting his hands in Luffy’s waistband, keeping his hands busy so he doesn’t try to reach down. He feels trapped in a maddening combination of heaven and hell: there’s the girthy push of Luffy’s cock on the one hand, pressing down on his tongue and filling the back of his mouth, Luffy’s tight hand in his hair a steady reminder of who’s in control; and on the other there’s his own throbbing dick, so stiff that his hips are twitching of their own accord, desperate for any hint of friction. The combination—the tug at his scalp, the steady harsh thrusts in his mouth, the heavy line of tension between his legs—is utterly stupefying, leaving him mindless and wanting, willing to do anything Luffy asks.
Suddenly Luffy makes him tilt his head further back, and pushes sideways into his mouth, holding there, bulging Law’s cheek. He looks down at Law through half-lidded eyes, and the fingers of his free hand brush Law’s face, tracing the shape of himself in Law’s mouth. Lowly, he says, “Fuck, Torao. You take me so good.”
Nothing has ever hit Law like that during sex, not even pain.
The words are like warm water poured down his back, like a firm hand on his cock. His toes curl with pleasure inside his boots, and for a moment everything is perfect: his cock tense, his mouth full, a giddy warmth spreading through his entire body. It’s so good that he trembles, and possibly even whimpers; certainly someone makes a high, needy sound.
Without stopping to think, Law moves his tongue a bit under Luffy’s cockhead, tightens his cheeks, trying to please him. He’s abruptly desperate for another crumb of approval, so stunned by how good it feels that he can’t manage to care about how he must look.
And Luffy must notice, because he gives a lazy pump of his hips—once, twice, still watching the push of himself inside Law’s cheek—and purrs, “Good, Torao, that’s good.”
Law melts. Pushes helplessly into the hand that’s gone loose again in his hair, rather like a big cat, and focuses totally on Luffy’s pleasure, the heavy pull between his own legs almost forgotten. Pulls off to Luffy’s tip and takes to doing his very best with his lips and his tongue, helping himself with his hand at Luffy’s base—kisses Luffy’s precome-slick tip and traces his tongue ever-so-lightly along the edge of Luffy’s foreskin, mouths sloppily at the glans, drags his open mouth down Luffy’s shaft. Comes back up to retrace his route down with far more attention, licking and sucking and following up on every minute reaction, dedicating himself to honest worship of Luffy’s cock.
And is rewarded, oh, how he’s rewarded. Luffy’s fingers comb through his hair, stroking his head, and Luffy keeps telling him how good he’s doing, how well he takes Luffy’s cock, how good he looks when Luffy resumes fucking him, making him drool and swallow against the steady drip of Luffy’s precome. Calls him Good boy, and the shiver that works its way through Law’s belly and thighs and clenches his buttocks at that is so intense that for a moment he thinks he actually came, feeling a fresh spurt of damp in his pants. But no: he’s still quiveringly erect, and Luffy’s still petting his hair, still praising him so sweetly that it makes him weak in the knees.
It makes him feel like a dog, a good dog, and fuck, fuck, Law hadn’t known that he wanted this but the rightness of it settles right into his balls, making him want more. He wants to beg for more direction, to do what he’s told and get pet on the head for doing it, because oh, he likes that, he likes doing well, likes Luffy’s attention, likes the way his own focus on Luffy’s pleasure is like a steadying hand at the small of his back. More than anything he wants to live up to everything Luffy has said to him so far, to make Luffy come and swallow every last drop.
So he keeps sucking him, pliant and needy and so focused on Luffy’s minute responses that when Luffy’s hand slips down to tuck a strand of Law’s hair behind his ear Law almost purrs, too far gone to think. Luffy’s starting to get erratic, panting, “Keep going, Torao, you’re doing so good,” and Law’s own breathing goes uneven in answer, because he swears he can almost taste Luffy’s approach to orgasm, the tang of precome on his tongue growing somehow more intense. His own balls tighten in anticipation, and he swipes his tongue neatly around Luffy’s tip, sucks him in again, lips parting smoothly around the head—
—and feels Luffy start to come, Luffy’s hand suddenly tightening in his hair. “Ah, Torao—!” But he yanks Law closer instead of pushing him back, forcing his dick just a bit further into Law’s mouth, and Law groans blissfully at that even before the first spurt of come spills over his tongue.
It’s almost as perfect as having Luffy come in his face. Better, maybe, because this time Luffy keeps hold of him, clutching his hair with both hands, dragging Law in so close that he nearly ends up with his nose in the curls above Luffy’s dick—and then his mouth floods with come, almost making him choke. It coats his tongue, the walls of his mouth, and Law swallows urgently against the thick sluice of it, trying to take it all—and still it spurts from the corners of his mouth as he gulps, running in rivulets down his chin. It’s the filthiest thing he’s ever felt, and he moans and swallows and doesn’t try to pull back until he’s lapped up the last dribbling spurt, Luffy’s hands finally releasing his hair.
Luffy says, “Ahhhhh,” and staggers back a bit, slipping out of Law’s mouth with a slick little pop. He casts a dazed look behind himself, and takes the one step necessary to flop down on the edge of the bed. He leans back on his hands, his head falling back. “Torao, that was amazing.”
Law shuffles a couple kneeling steps after him, staying at Luffy’s feet. The inside of his mouth is still coated with come, his lips wet with more, and he raises a hand to collect the spill, licking it carefully off his fingers. Swallows repeatedly against the thick feel of it on his tongue, and focuses on the task to keep from touching himself, still desperately hard.
The sound of his noisy gulping gets Luffy to lift his head and look down. On seeing what Law’s doing his eyes go dark, and he says softly, “Fuck, yeah, Torao.” His hand sinks back into Law’s hair, and he strokes his fingers through it as Law finishes the job, urging him on: “Yeah, lick it up—you sucked me so good, Torao, I can’t believe you just swallowed it down like that, that was so hot, you looked so good choking on my cock . . . yeah, finish it.” And, when Law does, “That’s it, Torao. Good boy.” Another approving stroke.
Law whimpers, intimately aware of the long, agonizing dribble of precome that squeezes out of him at the words. He’s so close. It feels like he could come without so much as another touch, just by releasing his white-knuckled grasp on his self-control. The slight friction of his own zipper pressed into his dick, Luffy’s hand in his hair, the lingering bruises on his chest—any of it would be enough.
Only: he can’t, because Luffy told him not to.
Luffy’s hand comes down to cup his face, and Law leans into it, leans his head against Luffy’s knee. He looks imploringly up at him. This far along he can’t even ask for it: his mouth opens and all that comes out of it is a desperate animal pant, his whole body shuddering, begging in place of his voice.
Luffy looks down at him with that same dark fascination, without a trace of sympathy. “You’re still being good, aren’t you, Torao?” And, at Law’s desperate nod, “You’re being so good.” He strokes Law’s face, lips curving up. “Do you want to come?”
Another harsh nod, and Luffy strokes his hand back through Law’s hair again. Says, casually cruel: “No, Torao, use your words.”
Law’s lungs squeeze out another pained noise. Somehow, with a herculean application of will, he manages to find his voice: “Please—please let me come, I’ve been so good, please,” and if Luffy doesn’t give him permission now he thinks he might actually die. Cardiorrhexis, right there at Luffy’s feet, his heart beating so hard that he can hear it over the roar of blood in his ears.
“Hmm,” muses Luffy. “Take out your cock.”
Law practically rips open his jeans. It takes him two tries to catch the zipper, and he gets it barely halfway down before hauling pants and underwear down together, just enough to release his dick. It blooms out between the wings of his shirt, thrusting out in front of him. A clear spurt of precome splatters onto the floor.
“Good,” Luffy says, “good boy, Torao,” and Law feels his balls tense with sudden inevitability, eyes widening, spine jerking in shock—
And Luffy laughs and says, “Okay. You can come,” and Law does, harder than he’s ever done in his life.
The totality of it wrenches his entire body. He grabs blindly for Luffy’s hand in his hair, clutches at Luffy’s knee, and leans hard into it as all that built-up desire finally discharges, bowing his back. Pleasure sparks up his spine, shivers down his inner thighs, pulses in sweet hot spasms down his cock—and Law gasps harshly and comes and comes, spurt after spurt at Luffy’s feet, each contraction wringing him out. The orgasm seems to go on for a long time, rolling through him like a long peal of thunder, reverberating instead of dying away.
When it finally releases him he slumps against Luffy’s knee, shuddering a bit from the aftershocks. He lets go of Luffy’s hand—his own falls limply beside him—and inhales deep, waiting for his galloping heartbeat to slow, the blood-rush hiss in his ears to fade.
Luffy pokes him in the shoulder. “Y’know, Torao, if you’d said about the hurting thing sooner, you coulda been having orgasms like that months ago.”
Law snorts into Luffy’s knee. Now that his head is starting to clear he can hardly believe how high he’d been, how caught up in Luffy’s praise. “Actually,” he says wryly, “I don’t think anything I could have come up with would have given me orgasms like that.” Even now, thinking about the things Luffy said to him settles a shivery feeling low in his belly.
Trust Luffy to figure out what he wanted, even before he knew it himself.
Luffy gives a pleased little snicker, and plucks at his shoulders: Law’s still got his shirt on, though by now it’s hopelessly damp with sweat. Law lifts his head, and gets pulled into an immediate kiss, deep and very thorough. The way Luffy licks the taste of himself out of his mouth knocks any coherent thoughts that may have been starting to form in Law’s head right back out of it, leaving it blissfully empty.
When they break apart Law looks up at him, and says quietly, “I’d—like if you did that more. Both of those things.” The pain, and the praise. “That was . . .”
“So hot,” Luffy says again, fervently, and pulls him up, urging Law onto the bed with him, starting to scoot himself back.
Law can only agree. He pushes up off the floor, and crawls after Luffy, fully intending to continue kissing him senseless. They’re certainly not done for the night.
All of a sudden, his future sex life looks much more exciting.