[Shanks can't help but wonder how much of a bad idea this had been on a scale of one to terrible as he takes a seat. He's on the edge of the beach where sand twists into soil, growing into foliage and trees with an ease Shanks could almost envy right now. Trees didn't need to go through ordeals or have their thoughts occupied by handsome clowns with flashy personas.
No, that was apparently his job after the last party had gone in ways even Shanks hadn't planned. Ever since, the evenings had felt infinitely longer, stretching out for eternity as the redhead replayed the feel of Buggy's mouth on his over and over. He couldn't blame it on remembering old times anymore and drinking had helped little on the matter; all that had done was make the mental images all the more daring with only his hand for company and a side of hangover the next day.
In the end it had been overhearing a crew member that had set the next journey in motion, Shanks picking up on half a conversation where one of them wanted to send a letter to a bartender at the last port that had caught their eye. A letter sounded perfect, the best way to exorcise the emotions that the last party had pulled to the surface! And if Buggy didn't like it, he could throw it away and say nothing. Win, win.
It had taken a few days of staring at a blank sheet of paper before Shanks finally scrawled down a few words, disgustingly sober for once as he throws in the towel.
We have unresolved business. Meet up with me.
Along with a location, Shanks had sent the letter and even now as he sits and looks towards the ocean, Shanks isn't sure if Buggy will show or not at this allotted time and place. It's quiet and the rest of his crew have gone on to the next port, knowing they can pick their captain up later the next day and Shanks feels it's the perfect place to put the chaos between them to rest. Or make it worse.
Shanks slowly rubs his chin in thought. If Buggy doesn't show it wouldn't be the first time he's been stood up and the redhead leans back in his seat, letting out a breath as he ignores the bottle of liquor nearby for now. ]
[vanity alone wouldn't let buggy discard without reading anything with his name on it. but when the letter is dropped in his hands and he realizes who it came from, his first impulse is to hold it over the nearest open flame without reading it. if it had come twenty years ago, he might have, no matter how hurt he is now that shanks didn't try to change his mind.
now - after what happened that night on the beach - the worst he can do is stare at the letter in silence for a long time, before he finally reads it.
Meet up with me. a time, and a place.
so apparently buggy isn't the only one still thinking about it. he could have convinced himself of that, and almost had done before this message turned up - shanks was drunk, he was just going with the flow, he did it because he wanted to fuck with buggy, he did it because he knew buggy wanted to fuck with him, he doesn't give a fuck, he never gave a fuck - but he can't tell himself shit now. now there is physical proof sitting right in front of his sober eyes that shanks gives at least enough of a fuck to write.
buggy crumples it up tight in his hands. for his own good, he should ignore it. didn't he tell shanks he'd never take his orders? is he gonna let himself be summoned like a dog to a whistle? no way! sure, it might eat away at him for the next two decades until he's an even worse version of himself, but at least it wouldn't hurt as much as having that treasure dangled in front of him again, only to get snatched away. because how could buggy ever expect to hold onto something (someone) that priceless?
...but he can't just turn his back on it, either. this is a map to that treasure, sitting in his hands. shanks owes him one. what will buggy find, exactly, if he follows these instructions to the appointed spot?
he decides he has to know.
buggy burns the letter without crafting a response, and tells the crew to set a new heading for supplies. When they reach the port, buggy claims to have his own business to handle alone; when alvida asks him what he's off to do all by himself, he makes up a reasonably plausible lie about incendiary materials. buggy leaves his highly noticeable hat behind and pulls his hair up to hide it under the hood of his cloak, and then sets off on what feels like an inevitable path to the beach, his heart pounding along with his footsteps. he's not even sure what he plans to do. he just knows he can't let shanks think he won somehow.
actually seeing him again, sitting there all relaxed on the beach like he's exactly where he belongs, grips at buggy's heart so ferociously that it almost causes him to turn and run. i don't need him, buggy tells himself sternly - desperately - balling his hands into fists. i just want him. there's a difference.
he stops at a distance, pushing his hood back and folding his arms across his chest.]
[Part of Shanks had expected a no-show from Buggy, that he would end up spending the evening with a bottle of booze watching the stars as they travelled across the sky all by his lonesome. He's almost made peace with that too, that decades have been too long to wait before finally sending a letter. It's something that should have been done years ago, a week after their argument at the most, and as he sits there Shanks feels a heavy weight settling in his chest. That one is on him; their argument had been bad, but he really should have sent something sooner. But then surely Buggy would have thrown said letter away?
No matter how many years have passed, Shanks still wonders about that, the idea the other would simply laugh and toss the paperwork so potent an image it's easier to just not send anything at all.
He believes Buggy won't show right up until the moment he does, watching as the figure in the distance pushes his hood down. Shanks feels his mouth go dry at the sight of Buggy sans hat, hair tied up like it's no big deal and the urge to bury his hand in that hair and pull is almost overwhelming. Words. A question has been asked and Shanks can barely remember how to speak, suddenly and painfully aware of how sober he is right now. A damned drink should have been the first thing upon arriving on this island! Did Buggy even have any idea of how striking a figure he made?! He can feel his pulse beginning to race, the sound almost thunderous in his ears as Shanks does his utmost to get a grip, suddenly feeling like an apprentice all over again.
Shanks gives his best smile and waves, motioning at a nearby empty seat. Never let it be said he didn't have some foresight to bring an extra on the off chance Buggy did show up. Right now it's difficult to tell what Buggy wants, so Shanks is just going to have to play it by ear, falling back into his usual joie de vivre with practised ease.]
[shanks isn't the only one who feels like an apprentice again. it really seems to buggy that if he takes another step forward, he'll be going back in time to a beach with this beautiful boy sitting on it, grinning so easily, waving him over. he almost can't take it.
fortunately, shanks keeps him grounded.]
You didn't even ask!!
[shit, okay, wait. can't get hung up on stupid pointless arguments if he wants to be able to take something away from this - one way or the other. he looks at the chair next to shanks, extremely tempted but hesitant. the instinct is in him to stay just out of reach when he's been called. like a cat. why should i?]
I mean, you brought me out here, lazy. You got something to say to me?
[ Shanks watches as Buggy glances at the chair and he wishes for once the other wouldn't question it too much, that he'd just take a seat and go with things.
But Buggy has questions and rightly so; Shanks hadn't exactly been forthright in his letter and the redhead feels his heart skip a beat at the word lazy. Just hearing the other calling him names is a fierce throwback to squabbles and arguments that later melted into much more.
Shit, is he staring? Shanks is sure he's staring and he wets his lips, getting to his feet as he decides to just go with it. Buggy can always punch him later.]
I kept thinking about the party so thought I'd ask you out here.
[ Shanks knows he should add "to talk about it" but a small, almost petty part of him leaves it out, curious to see what Buggy will make of it.]
[even though he knew the better part of that answer, hearing shanks say it out loud is somehow startling - or maybe it's the part that sounds like something shanks couldn't possibly mean, flustering him more than he wanted to show. buggy doesn't think it's unreasonable to want to be incentivized to voluntarily do something that might make him look stupid. or worse - stupid and lovesick, which is frankly the worst kind of stupid.]
What is that supposed to mean?
[now his cheeks are hot, which makes him want to clock shanks right in his handsome face. it doesn't make him want to leave, surprisingly. fascination has him trapped here now.
bastard better not think buggy didn't come to play.]
If you want to pick up where we left off... [he unwraps himself from his cloak, and in the process tugs the band from his hair, letting it tumble in loose blue coils down his shoulders. make something of that, shanks.] ...just say so already.
[Shanks watches as Buggy loosens his hair tie, unable to tear his eyes away from how long and stunning it looks right now. When they were younger the pair of them were guilty of headgear crimes but now as Shanks stares, all he can do is lament the fact that as a captain, Buggy's hat would cover most of that. Shanks steals another quick look, memorizing the sight before Buggy undoubtedly tells him to piss off.
He gives his head a small shake, snapping his attention back to the present. Feelings over hair? There's obviously something very wrong with him and if Shanks had both arms he'd be folding them about now to try and convince himself that every part of this is normal. Just two guys who think the other is fine, hoping to hook up. No big deal! It isn't like this is his first rodeo, but reminding himself of that does little to ease the disorientating sense of concern that threatens ever so slightly. If Buggy says no then Shanks is already making plans to drink himself to sleep. ]
Alright. [Shanks steps on to the sand, closing the distance between them with a few steps as he keeps his attitude casual and confident. No matter what happened or what the answer is, Buggy would still be special to him. Nothing would ever change that and he stops within arms reach of the clown, lips curling back into a grin that promised nothing but trouble. ]
[buggy is going to his own lengths to convince himself there's nothing weird or dangerous about this, just as long as it's physical and he doesn't let his emotions leak all over the place again. without alcohol it should be no problem. because the answer is an emphatic yes, he wants to pick up where they left off, he's been tingling with the ghost of shanks' mouth and hands since the moment they were interrupted. shanks just doesn't need to know how bad he wants him. he doesn't need to know buggy has any feelings at all.]
Fine. [how dare shanks grin at him like that - he can't possibly be feeling butterflies in his stomach right now. what the hell is that!
before he starts to fucking blush again, buggy grabs shanks by the collar of his shirt with both hands, like he's about to start a fight.] But don't think having one arm means you can just sit there and do nothing.
[and before shanks can reply, buggy drags him the last few inches forward, crushing their mouths together again, kissing him fiercely.]
Edited (why did it kill my icon) 2024-05-11 18:25 (UTC)
[It's all kinds of thrilling and dangerous to be in this position right now; everything feeling on the edge of a precipice and then some more. There's the potential for this to blow up in both their faces but just like Buggy, Shanks is more than willing to put that to the back of his mind. How much worse could it get? The pair of them were — technically — not talking anyway. And acting sensibly when Buggy is looking at him like that? Common sense had no chance of prevailing.
Before he can laugh at the comment on taking it easy, Shanks feels himself being pulled in for a kiss and the redhead matches the ferocity and heat of it all, pressing his lips back just as hard. He should be concerned by how effortless everything feels as he closes any remaining gap between them, firmly pulling Buggy against him with a hand at the small of the other's back. But that's a thought for later when there's time to think. ]
[that same question - how much worse could it get? - is the one that almost prevented buggy from coming in the first place. if he commits himself to this as a purely physical thing that just happens to involve the man he was in love with as a teenager, it can be one and done and they can go back to their own lives as if nothing happened. that's what he's telling himself. that's a good thing. right?
more thoughts for later. it is effortless, more than habit, like fitting himself against shanks is something his bones remember. the intensity when shanks meets the kiss snatches the breath out of him, but buggy presses back greedily on the next one, deepening the kiss as his hands release the shirt and slide around shanks instead, drawn in close by the hand on his back. he hooks one hand up over shanks' left shoulder, like he's compensating for the lost arm, his hold there tight as the other hand buries itself in red hair all over again.]
[ It's almost astonishing how much Shanks has missed this now that things are happening. There's an instant familiarity with Buggy that drives away any need for caution, instead urging Shanks on as he runs his tongue along the line of Buggy's lips. Just the taste of the other is enough to have his heart skipping a beat or two as he struggles to catch his breath. Not many could claim to have brought Red-Haired Shanks to his knees, but Buggy could do that and easily.
Shanks knows it's best to keep that thought to himself a little longer.
Such things should be a problem; he'd been intent on crossing paths with Buggy and acting totally casual about it, but the meeting on the island had been unplanned. Welcome, but a cosmic spanner in the works and then some. Any notion of casual had gone out of the window never to return. Though if Shanks if honest with himself, had Buggy written the letter, Shanks would have fallen over himself in his haste to meet back up.
Now they're in the perfect place, the electric press of Buggy's lips against his enough to send a skitter of heat down his spine. A hand in his hair only helps further that sensation and Shanks can't help but slip his hand back under clothing, pressing against the warmth of Buggy's back. When they had been younger there had been the thrill of being caught hanging over their heads. That has long since passed, replaced by the knowledge there's no-one to stop them right now and Shanks drags his nails across Buggy's lower back, teeth pulling at the other's lower lip in a silent demand for more. ]
[it's terrifying how familiar it is. if buggy was being sensible, he'd run for the hills before this disaster waiting to happen drags him down into total ruin. but shanks has always had this effortless way of making buggy do things despite his reservations, fears, or inadequacies. apparently that's another thing that simply hasn't changed.
it's only a matter of time before flight mode kicks in, but right now buggy couldn't tear himself away if he tried, and because no one is watching them, he doesn't have to. he can sink his fingers in, nails biting, and leave marks like shanks belongs to him. he can pretend that's true for a little while and bask in it, demanding it, drawing shanks' tongue in deep with his own, half-forgetting that they can do other things besides just make out until they're both lightheaded.
then the nails and the teeth make his breath catch on a greedy, wholly accidental sound of want, and just hearing it makes buggy flush - couldn't be him! - and pull back sharply, lips swollen and red even beneath the makeup, eyes sharp and bright and somehow feverish despite the fact that he hasn't had a drop of alcohol either. shanks' mouth is also red - just like the bonfire. buggy is going to lose his entire mind.
without breaking eye contact, he pushes shanks backward, hands on his chest, toward the chairs sitting side by side a little higher up the beach. sober buggy is absolutely not going to risk sand in uncomfortable places but the chairs are a good compromise for now; he manhandles shanks back to the chair he was sitting in, and then pushes him down into it, and then straddles his lap again, so that now they're almost exactly where they left off. buggy rakes his hands through shanks' hair and pulls his head back, exposing his throat for more hungry kisses, red lipstick marks like flower petals tracking the path.
as long as he's in control, he'll be able to get away at the end of this with his heart intact. no problem. all he has to do is not focus on how beautiful this redheaded bastard still is, and always has been, and always will be - the brightest star in the sky.]
[The needy sound from Buggy goes straight to Shanks' cock. It's music to his ears and whilst Buggy might find the noises he's making mortifying, Shanks loves them, delighted and turned on that the other feels enough to be making them in the first place. He'll never tire of hearing them as long as Buggy enjoys making them and the feel of nails biting into his skin gets another low rumble from the redhead in return.
Shanks lets Buggy manhandle him into the chair as he realises that his old friend has the foresight to consider sand in places no-one wants. The lips at his neck cut off any smart-ass comment he tries to make, the words cutting off into a short gasp of sheer want he can't hold back. Especially with how his mind sees fit to point out where else those lips could go that night. The hands at his hair only serve to underline the heated need that truly begins to take hold as years of denial begin to unravel.
Letting Buggy lead is ideal for a few reason and Shanks is more than happy to allow it. There's the smallest concern that Buggy could change his mind, that such a hot and heavy thing could end abruptly as common sense kicked in. That and ultimately there are few moments Shanks allows someone else take charge, to truly enjoy, such is his trust in Buggy. He can control things later when the walls have crumbled further.
Shanks tilts his head back further, giving Buggy more access to his neck as he presses down at the other's back again, rolling his hips upwards to revel in the friction it brings with an audible hitch of his breath. ]
[buggy had managed to convince himself that it was never really as good as he thought it was at the time, that he and shanks were just teenagers fooling around and what do teenagers know about anything, but now that it's happening again he has to confront the shocking truth: yes, it was really that good.
every time shanks makes a sound of pleasure loud enough to catch, buggy's whole body practically trembles with lust. nothing has ever made him feel as powerful - or as vulnerable - as shanks moaning and gasping and arching because of him. it's why he climbed into shanks' bed night after night no matter how much they bickered during the day. as soon as shanks pulled him into his arms, buggy always seemed to forget how to be mad at him.
he's melting quickly in shanks' lap, not-so-iron resolve taking massive damage from the red-haired pirate's appreciation while his cock takes full advantage of every charge, and then shanks makes the lethal decision to roll his hips up, giving buggy total awareness of the growing bulge digging into his inner thigh. a real moan pulls itself right out of buggy's throat, and without a moment's hesitation he realigns himself on shanks' lap and grinds down on him, pleasure and lust spiking straight into the clouds.
buggy wrenches his mouth away from shanks, drawing back enough to watch his face as he drags one stiffening cock against the other through well-worn cloth. the brightness hasn't left his eyes; the whole world has narrowed down to shanks again.]
Tomorrow... this never happened.
[which means tonight, they can do whatever the fuck they want.]
[Feeling Buggy reciprocate is worth all the treasure in the world and then some more right now. Each shift and movement is enough to have heat streaking through Shanks, curling into sheer excitement over every touch and the promise that each one brings.
There's no shame in admitting to himself that the lust is undeniable and ironically, unbeknownst to Buggy, the other has everything he ever wanted; the entire spotlight on him and no-one else as Shanks' worldview narrows down to only the pair of them in the moment. Pirates could invade and he'd likely not notice.
Shanks clasps tightly at Buggy's hip to pull the other down into another roll of his own, unable to resist as the urge to take charge finally begins to take hold. How can he not with the words Buggy comes out with, each syllable full of imagery that Shanks had never dared think much about. Lucky for them they're no longer younger, sneaking in their time when they could. Now there had an evening to doa s they wished and if Shanks has anything to do with it, he'd be making sure that tomorrow is more of the same.
One night only? As if.]
Lucky for us I got a place for the night. [He doesn't add it's for a handful of nights, a basic place that's perfect for the pair of them and Shanks is already making a move, attempting to scoop Buggy up with one hand as he gets to his feet, unwilling to let the other stop at his neck as they move. ] Want to see?
[buggy is just about to point out indignantly that shanks didn't even know for sure he was coming - presumptuous bastard - but then his balance abruptly shifts and he nearly tumbles backward off of shanks' lap with a very undignified yelp. by the time he gets a grip back on the emperor's shoulders, he's bright red and indignant for an entirely different reason.]
Idiot - !! Warn me next time before you do that! [as if there's guaranteed to be a next time. which there isn't. and yet, despite his protests, he's clinging tighter, thighs squeezing shanks at the waist, just shy of wrapping both legs around him. buggy can't look too desperate (ideally he wouldn't look desperate at all, but that ship might have already sailed).
and yet, shanks did just pick him up and go from sitting to standing with only one arm, which is so unbelievably sexy of him buggy's almost mad about it, but more than mad, he's turned the fuck on. so that shanks doesn't see too much of the eager flush in his cheeks, buggy presses his face into the other pirate's neck, peppering kisses wherever he can reach, nipping the soft skin behind his ear.]
[Shanks can't help a low chuckle at the indignant noise that escapes Buggy, equally thrilled and grateful at the feel of legs tightening around him. He may be making this look easy, and there hadn't been much thought over it, but the reality is anything but. Carrying someone with one arm is more than enough work, but to try and attempt it whilst every part of him is just screaming for the other is a whole different kettle of fish. Walking is going to be difficult with how hard he is, something that Buggy can't miss from that position. ]
Where's the fun in that? [The redhead can't help but tease back, giving a good natured roll of the eyes at Buggy's demand to hurry up. It's a sentiment Shanks shares, but he can't just give Buggy everything so easily.
He catches sight of a flush that makeup can't quite cover and that, coupled with the nip behind his ear is enough to give Shanks pause as he bites his lip, eyes briefly fluttering closed as sheer want and need threaten to take over. If Buggy had any idea how hot he looked right now.... ]
Keep on like that and we might not make it there. [Seriously, the urge to throw caution out of the window is growing stronger with every second. Sand could always be washed off later right? But no, a place has been promised, he can see it through the nearby trees. It's not far away at all and yet it feels like a million miles away as Shanks starts the awkward walk, keeping his grip on Buggy and pausing only to nuzzle against the other's jawline. ]
[where's the fun, he says, when buggy knows he's just doing it to be obstinate. jerk! if only he weren't so very hot.]
Lazy.
[it's repeated, muffled, against shanks' throat, but they're still moving in what he assumes is the right direction so he doesn't try to derail things with an argument. in fact, he can make things a lot easier - for his own sake, obviously. he's a bad guy, bad guys aren't helpful. so of course it's totally selfish of him to come apart, leaving only his lower half for shanks to balance in one arm, legs still clamped firm on the redhead's hips; buggy grabs him by the shirt and kisses him again, fiercely, floating torso half-dragging shanks along without even paying attention to where they're going. as long as his feet are on the ground, he's effectively weightless, but with total control over his pieces he can still flex his hips just enough to tease the bulge digging into him.
he's paying attention to nothing but tugging shanks and kissing the breath out of him when his back hits a tree, just a few yards away from the little beach hut. it forces a breath out of him, half gasp and half moan, sending a fresh spike of lust through his body. this is the least efficient method of making it from one place to the other but buggy couldn't care less; if they have to stop now for any reason, he's going to scream.
detached hands will start making quick work of shanks' shirt in the meantime, stripping it off so that buggy can drag his fingers over lean muscle, following the ripple over shanks' abdomen. then he grabs his ass with both hands and pulls him forward, grinding their hips together, pressing buggy's back harder against the rough bark and another filthy moan into the eager kisses.]
[Getting to the shack had been one of Shanks more pressing priorities, the thought of spending a day (or two) wrapped up with Buggy in bed both potent and vivid in his mind. How could either of them refuse the allure of indulging in each other as much as they could without the interruptions of crew and life. But before Shanks can even wrap his head around what's happening — too distracted by the feel of Buggy against him — there's a sudden pair of hands at his shirt, dragging him along.
Anyone else would be concerned by such an event, if not freaked out that their partner had just literally come apart. But if anything it only serves to make Shanks' blood run all the hotter as he allows Buggy to drag him along, his imagination fueled with all the things they could do with those devil fruit powers. Now it's easy to carry the other with only one arm, but the way Buggy grinds against him tests the last shred of the redhead's patience as he gives another heated groan at the friction.
They're only a few steps away from the door but Buggy isn't helping any as they both connect with a tree and instantly Shanks is pressing up against Buggy harder, loathe to miss the opportunity to push him firmly against it. He's only just aware of his shirt being removed, gasping as cool air hits heated skin, and the feel of fingers along his abdomen only serves to underline the way Buggy's groan goes straight to his cock. The noises Buggy makes are filthy, sinful and hot. Shanks has no doubt he'll be hearing them ringing in his ears for eternity and right now he can't help but claim Buggy's lips with his own, freeing his only hand to tug none too lightly at the other pirate's hair.
If things keep on they're not going to make it to the hut and Shanks breaks the kiss, giving Buggy's lower lip a small bite to get his attention. Full sentences aren't a thing as the redhead's mind is more occupied with the hands at his ass, on giving a slow, purposeful roll of his hips against Buggy's and he utters a single word before leaning in to bite lightly at the other's neck. ]
[buggy could talk a lot of shit about being the one doing all the work here, but the folly of that becomes apparent when shanks pins him harder against the tree, kissing him, burying a hand in his hair, fingers tightening and pulling. the kiss breaks when buggy's head arches back with a ragged gasp.]
Ahh-h--
[he only just stops himself from moaning out shanks' name as intense need starts to disintegrate what's left of his self control. his fingers dig in harder, demanding another flex of the redhead's hips, meeting them with a sinuous ripple. he's so keyed up that the friction against his own hard cock leaves him shaking.]
Yeah, yes - right here - [demanding is starting to sound more and more like pleading; buggy wants shanks so badly that he doesn't care where they are anymore - fortunately, however, he has just enough clear thought in his head to remember that they are literally steps away from not needing to fuck against a tree.] Wait. No, wait -
[he's more aware of shanks' body than his own and isn't even sure which of his pieces are attached right now, but his feet are one the ground and that's all that matters. it takes a surge of willpower to push shanks back, and to keep going in the direction of the nearby bed, but buggy's patience gives out just in time for every piece to collide into shanks at once, sending them both across the threshold of the little beach hut in a tangled heap. buggy is kissing him again before they even hit the ground.]
( Luckily they both manage to muster up enough coherency between them to realise that the tree is not the greatest of ideas. Or something like that. Shanks isn't sure, he's too wrapped up in dragging more sounds from Buggy to spare too much energy on trite things such as thinking.
Wait. Bed. By the time Shanks pieces two and two together that the bed isn't that far away they're already tumbling through the doorway, his back hitting the floor hard enough it would have taken his breath away had Buggy's lips not already been back against his.
The floor is marginally better than a tree, but even with Buggy on him Shanks can see the bed from his vantage point. The sooner they get there the sooner there's nothing to think about and he can focus on more important things, like fucking Buggy until the sun rises. He breaks the kiss only to press his own back against Buggy's in an almost chaste peck of the lips, ignoring how his body screams against the notion of stopping temporarily. )
Bed. C'mon. ( Shanks takes a breath, steeling the last of his resolve to grab a handful of Buggy's shirt, tugging the other up and only relinquishing his grip to give Buggy a shove down on to the bed. Manhandling? Maybe, Shanks knows he can apologise later for it, focusing on removing Buggy's shirt instead, desperate to feel heated skin against his own. )
[he might have grumbled or whined a little about having to move yet again when he's already moved so much and he wants shanks so bad it's starting to physically hurt. but buggy isn't expecting to be so effectively manipulated from floor to bed; that sweet little kiss hits him like a pause button, and before he even realizes what's happening he's suddenly landing on his back on the bed with a grunt of surprise, eyes wide, heat lancing through him again in a way that has nothing to do with embarrassment.
shanks won't hear a single word of argument. buggy is quick to wriggle out of his own shirt, and then the rest of his clothes, trying to press close and kiss shanks as much as he can the whole time. no sooner has he stripped himself bare than he drops a floating hand between them, fondling the bulge of shanks' cock even while buggy wraps both arms around his neck.
fuck. did he get bigger? of course he did, they grew up. fuck.]
[Buggy get the silent request, pulling off his clothes and exposing skin that takes Shanks' breath away, brown eyes greedily drinking in the sight before him. The understanding they're both larger and older (though not particularly wiser) also hits home, something that equally thrills and concerns the redhead. So much time has passed, and they have all night to catch up on it.
Even the sight of Buggy's cock has Shanks' mouth watering and not for the last time that night the wish to have both hands at his disposal crosses his mind. He'll just have to use the one to leave as many marks as he can and Shanks is already digging fingers in at Buggy's hip as the comment reaches his ears. Each syllable skitters down his spine heatedly and Shanks can't help the shudder that ripples through him. How long has he wanted to hear that? Too long.
Still, trust Buggy to issue such a challenge and, despite thinking on how grown up they were not mere moments ago, Shanks can't help but push back, flashing his teeth as he smirks. ]
[buggy firms his grip on shanks' cock through his trousers, heart thumping wildly in his chest, wanting to eat that unbearable smirk right off the red-haired pirate's beautiful face. it's not really the courtesy buggy cares about, after all. he just wants shanks to want him badly enough to do something about it. he can't give up when he can tell he's having an effect.]
Then you'll have to make me.
[it's such a dare that buggy might as well just say so, and it's written in his hungry gaze, the challenging lift of his chin. they're well past the point of him using something like that as an excuse to abandon shanks here; now buggy's determined to make it worth his while to have answered the summons at all. one way or another he's going to get the treasure he came for.]
[ Shanks seriously gives the nice route a quick, if not distracted, thought. He could put on his best pout and say please so very sweetly, knowing it would more than likely slay Buggy to see and hear such a thing. And when would they be doing this again? But there's a reason why Shanks is where is he these days, a stubborn (and often drunken) fool to the very end. Playing nice he can save for later.
The challenge is issued from Buggy, the dare unspoken but still ringing in the redhead's ears and he delights in the defiant tilt of Buggy's chin in a familiar motion that promised the best kinds of trouble. The urge to just shrug his pants off and press up against the other pirate captain is almost a mantra in Shanks' mind and he takes a deep breath, steeling himself to hold out a little longer in the name of tormenting Buggy for daring to be so wilful at such a time. ]
Guess I'll have to. Make you wait that is. Tease you — [ Shanks dips his head, nipping at the pale skin of Buggy's shoulder none too lightly in between words. ] — until you're the one — [ another nip, this time further down ] — begging for my dick.
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No, that was apparently his job after the last party had gone in ways even Shanks hadn't planned. Ever since, the evenings had felt infinitely longer, stretching out for eternity as the redhead replayed the feel of Buggy's mouth on his over and over. He couldn't blame it on remembering old times anymore and drinking had helped little on the matter; all that had done was make the mental images all the more daring with only his hand for company and a side of hangover the next day.
In the end it had been overhearing a crew member that had set the next journey in motion, Shanks picking up on half a conversation where one of them wanted to send a letter to a bartender at the last port that had caught their eye. A letter sounded perfect, the best way to exorcise the emotions that the last party had pulled to the surface! And if Buggy didn't like it, he could throw it away and say nothing. Win, win.
It had taken a few days of staring at a blank sheet of paper before Shanks finally scrawled down a few words, disgustingly sober for once as he throws in the towel.
We have unresolved business. Meet up with me.
Along with a location, Shanks had sent the letter and even now as he sits and looks towards the ocean, Shanks isn't sure if Buggy will show or not at this allotted time and place. It's quiet and the rest of his crew have gone on to the next port, knowing they can pick their captain up later the next day and Shanks feels it's the perfect place to put the chaos between them to rest. Or make it worse.
Shanks slowly rubs his chin in thought. If Buggy doesn't show it wouldn't be the first time he's been stood up and the redhead leans back in his seat, letting out a breath as he ignores the bottle of liquor nearby for now. ]
Sure hope you read your mail....
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now - after what happened that night on the beach - the worst he can do is stare at the letter in silence for a long time, before he finally reads it.
Meet up with me. a time, and a place.
so apparently buggy isn't the only one still thinking about it. he could have convinced himself of that, and almost had done before this message turned up - shanks was drunk, he was just going with the flow, he did it because he wanted to fuck with buggy, he did it because he knew buggy wanted to fuck with him, he doesn't give a fuck, he never gave a fuck - but he can't tell himself shit now. now there is physical proof sitting right in front of his sober eyes that shanks gives at least enough of a fuck to write.
buggy crumples it up tight in his hands. for his own good, he should ignore it. didn't he tell shanks he'd never take his orders? is he gonna let himself be summoned like a dog to a whistle? no way! sure, it might eat away at him for the next two decades until he's an even worse version of himself, but at least it wouldn't hurt as much as having that treasure dangled in front of him again, only to get snatched away. because how could buggy ever expect to hold onto something (someone) that priceless?
...but he can't just turn his back on it, either. this is a map to that treasure, sitting in his hands. shanks owes him one. what will buggy find, exactly, if he follows these instructions to the appointed spot?
he decides he has to know.
buggy burns the letter without crafting a response, and tells the crew to set a new heading for supplies. When they reach the port, buggy claims to have his own business to handle alone; when alvida asks him what he's off to do all by himself, he makes up a reasonably plausible lie about incendiary materials. buggy leaves his highly noticeable hat behind and pulls his hair up to hide it under the hood of his cloak, and then sets off on what feels like an inevitable path to the beach, his heart pounding along with his footsteps. he's not even sure what he plans to do. he just knows he can't let shanks think he won somehow.
actually seeing him again, sitting there all relaxed on the beach like he's exactly where he belongs, grips at buggy's heart so ferociously that it almost causes him to turn and run. i don't need him, buggy tells himself sternly - desperately - balling his hands into fists. i just want him. there's a difference.
he stops at a distance, pushing his hood back and folding his arms across his chest.]
What am I doing out here, Shanks?
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No matter how many years have passed, Shanks still wonders about that, the idea the other would simply laugh and toss the paperwork so potent an image it's easier to just not send anything at all.
He believes Buggy won't show right up until the moment he does, watching as the figure in the distance pushes his hood down. Shanks feels his mouth go dry at the sight of Buggy sans hat, hair tied up like it's no big deal and the urge to bury his hand in that hair and pull is almost overwhelming. Words. A question has been asked and Shanks can barely remember how to speak, suddenly and painfully aware of how sober he is right now. A damned drink should have been the first thing upon arriving on this island! Did Buggy even have any idea of how striking a figure he made?! He can feel his pulse beginning to race, the sound almost thunderous in his ears as Shanks does his utmost to get a grip, suddenly feeling like an apprentice all over again.
Shanks gives his best smile and waves, motioning at a nearby empty seat. Never let it be said he didn't have some foresight to bring an extra on the off chance Buggy did show up. Right now it's difficult to tell what Buggy wants, so Shanks is just going to have to play it by ear, falling back into his usual joie de vivre with practised ease.]
Cause I sent a letter? I asked nicely enough.
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fortunately, shanks keeps him grounded.]
You didn't even ask!!
[shit, okay, wait. can't get hung up on stupid pointless arguments if he wants to be able to take something away from this - one way or the other. he looks at the chair next to shanks, extremely tempted but hesitant. the instinct is in him to stay just out of reach when he's been called. like a cat. why should i?]
I mean, you brought me out here, lazy. You got something to say to me?
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But Buggy has questions and rightly so; Shanks hadn't exactly been forthright in his letter and the redhead feels his heart skip a beat at the word lazy. Just hearing the other calling him names is a fierce throwback to squabbles and arguments that later melted into much more.
Shit, is he staring? Shanks is sure he's staring and he wets his lips, getting to his feet as he decides to just go with it. Buggy can always punch him later.]
I kept thinking about the party so thought I'd ask you out here.
[ Shanks knows he should add "to talk about it" but a small, almost petty part of him leaves it out, curious to see what Buggy will make of it.]
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What is that supposed to mean?
[now his cheeks are hot, which makes him want to clock shanks right in his handsome face. it doesn't make him want to leave, surprisingly. fascination has him trapped here now.
bastard better not think buggy didn't come to play.]
If you want to pick up where we left off... [he unwraps himself from his cloak, and in the process tugs the band from his hair, letting it tumble in loose blue coils down his shoulders. make something of that, shanks.] ...just say so already.
[that would be so much better than talking.]
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He gives his head a small shake, snapping his attention back to the present. Feelings over hair? There's obviously something very wrong with him and if Shanks had both arms he'd be folding them about now to try and convince himself that every part of this is normal. Just two guys who think the other is fine, hoping to hook up. No big deal! It isn't like this is his first rodeo, but reminding himself of that does little to ease the disorientating sense of concern that threatens ever so slightly. If Buggy says no then Shanks is already making plans to drink himself to sleep. ]
Alright. [Shanks steps on to the sand, closing the distance between them with a few steps as he keeps his attitude casual and confident. No matter what happened or what the answer is, Buggy would still be special to him. Nothing would ever change that and he stops within arms reach of the clown, lips curling back into a grin that promised nothing but trouble. ]
Want to pick up where we left off?
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Fine. [how dare shanks grin at him like that - he can't possibly be feeling butterflies in his stomach right now. what the hell is that!
before he starts to fucking blush again, buggy grabs shanks by the collar of his shirt with both hands, like he's about to start a fight.] But don't think having one arm means you can just sit there and do nothing.
[and before shanks can reply, buggy drags him the last few inches forward, crushing their mouths together again, kissing him fiercely.]
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Before he can laugh at the comment on taking it easy, Shanks feels himself being pulled in for a kiss and the redhead matches the ferocity and heat of it all, pressing his lips back just as hard. He should be concerned by how effortless everything feels as he closes any remaining gap between them, firmly pulling Buggy against him with a hand at the small of the other's back. But that's a thought for later when there's time to think. ]
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more thoughts for later. it is effortless, more than habit, like fitting himself against shanks is something his bones remember. the intensity when shanks meets the kiss snatches the breath out of him, but buggy presses back greedily on the next one, deepening the kiss as his hands release the shirt and slide around shanks instead, drawn in close by the hand on his back. he hooks one hand up over shanks' left shoulder, like he's compensating for the lost arm, his hold there tight as the other hand buries itself in red hair all over again.]
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Shanks knows it's best to keep that thought to himself a little longer.
Such things should be a problem; he'd been intent on crossing paths with Buggy and acting totally casual about it, but the meeting on the island had been unplanned. Welcome, but a cosmic spanner in the works and then some. Any notion of casual had gone out of the window never to return. Though if Shanks if honest with himself, had Buggy written the letter, Shanks would have fallen over himself in his haste to meet back up.
Now they're in the perfect place, the electric press of Buggy's lips against his enough to send a skitter of heat down his spine. A hand in his hair only helps further that sensation and Shanks can't help but slip his hand back under clothing, pressing against the warmth of Buggy's back. When they had been younger there had been the thrill of being caught hanging over their heads. That has long since passed, replaced by the knowledge there's no-one to stop them right now and Shanks drags his nails across Buggy's lower back, teeth pulling at the other's lower lip in a silent demand for more. ]
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it's only a matter of time before flight mode kicks in, but right now buggy couldn't tear himself away if he tried, and because no one is watching them, he doesn't have to. he can sink his fingers in, nails biting, and leave marks like shanks belongs to him. he can pretend that's true for a little while and bask in it, demanding it, drawing shanks' tongue in deep with his own, half-forgetting that they can do other things besides just make out until they're both lightheaded.
then the nails and the teeth make his breath catch on a greedy, wholly accidental sound of want, and just hearing it makes buggy flush - couldn't be him! - and pull back sharply, lips swollen and red even beneath the makeup, eyes sharp and bright and somehow feverish despite the fact that he hasn't had a drop of alcohol either. shanks' mouth is also red - just like the bonfire. buggy is going to lose his entire mind.
without breaking eye contact, he pushes shanks backward, hands on his chest, toward the chairs sitting side by side a little higher up the beach. sober buggy is absolutely not going to risk sand in uncomfortable places but the chairs are a good compromise for now; he manhandles shanks back to the chair he was sitting in, and then pushes him down into it, and then straddles his lap again, so that now they're almost exactly where they left off. buggy rakes his hands through shanks' hair and pulls his head back, exposing his throat for more hungry kisses, red lipstick marks like flower petals tracking the path.
as long as he's in control, he'll be able to get away at the end of this with his heart intact. no problem. all he has to do is not focus on how beautiful this redheaded bastard still is, and always has been, and always will be - the brightest star in the sky.]
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Shanks lets Buggy manhandle him into the chair as he realises that his old friend has the foresight to consider sand in places no-one wants. The lips at his neck cut off any smart-ass comment he tries to make, the words cutting off into a short gasp of sheer want he can't hold back. Especially with how his mind sees fit to point out where else those lips could go that night. The hands at his hair only serve to underline the heated need that truly begins to take hold as years of denial begin to unravel.
Letting Buggy lead is ideal for a few reason and Shanks is more than happy to allow it. There's the smallest concern that Buggy could change his mind, that such a hot and heavy thing could end abruptly as common sense kicked in. That and ultimately there are few moments Shanks allows someone else take charge, to truly enjoy, such is his trust in Buggy. He can control things later when the walls have crumbled further.
Shanks tilts his head back further, giving Buggy more access to his neck as he presses down at the other's back again, rolling his hips upwards to revel in the friction it brings with an audible hitch of his breath. ]
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every time shanks makes a sound of pleasure loud enough to catch, buggy's whole body practically trembles with lust. nothing has ever made him feel as powerful - or as vulnerable - as shanks moaning and gasping and arching because of him. it's why he climbed into shanks' bed night after night no matter how much they bickered during the day. as soon as shanks pulled him into his arms, buggy always seemed to forget how to be mad at him.
he's melting quickly in shanks' lap, not-so-iron resolve taking massive damage from the red-haired pirate's appreciation while his cock takes full advantage of every charge, and then shanks makes the lethal decision to roll his hips up, giving buggy total awareness of the growing bulge digging into his inner thigh. a real moan pulls itself right out of buggy's throat, and without a moment's hesitation he realigns himself on shanks' lap and grinds down on him, pleasure and lust spiking straight into the clouds.
buggy wrenches his mouth away from shanks, drawing back enough to watch his face as he drags one stiffening cock against the other through well-worn cloth. the brightness hasn't left his eyes; the whole world has narrowed down to shanks again.]
Tomorrow... this never happened.
[which means tonight, they can do whatever the fuck they want.]
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There's no shame in admitting to himself that the lust is undeniable and ironically, unbeknownst to Buggy, the other has everything he ever wanted; the entire spotlight on him and no-one else as Shanks' worldview narrows down to only the pair of them in the moment. Pirates could invade and he'd likely not notice.
Shanks clasps tightly at Buggy's hip to pull the other down into another roll of his own, unable to resist as the urge to take charge finally begins to take hold. How can he not with the words Buggy comes out with, each syllable full of imagery that Shanks had never dared think much about. Lucky for them they're no longer younger, sneaking in their time when they could. Now there had an evening to doa s they wished and if Shanks has anything to do with it, he'd be making sure that tomorrow is more of the same.
One night only? As if.]
Lucky for us I got a place for the night. [He doesn't add it's for a handful of nights, a basic place that's perfect for the pair of them and Shanks is already making a move, attempting to scoop Buggy up with one hand as he gets to his feet, unwilling to let the other stop at his neck as they move. ] Want to see?
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Idiot - !! Warn me next time before you do that! [as if there's guaranteed to be a next time. which there isn't. and yet, despite his protests, he's clinging tighter, thighs squeezing shanks at the waist, just shy of wrapping both legs around him. buggy can't look too desperate (ideally he wouldn't look desperate at all, but that ship might have already sailed).
and yet, shanks did just pick him up and go from sitting to standing with only one arm, which is so unbelievably sexy of him buggy's almost mad about it, but more than mad, he's turned the fuck on. so that shanks doesn't see too much of the eager flush in his cheeks, buggy presses his face into the other pirate's neck, peppering kisses wherever he can reach, nipping the soft skin behind his ear.]
Obviously I want to see. Hurry up.
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Where's the fun in that? [The redhead can't help but tease back, giving a good natured roll of the eyes at Buggy's demand to hurry up. It's a sentiment Shanks shares, but he can't just give Buggy everything so easily.
He catches sight of a flush that makeup can't quite cover and that, coupled with the nip behind his ear is enough to give Shanks pause as he bites his lip, eyes briefly fluttering closed as sheer want and need threaten to take over. If Buggy had any idea how hot he looked right now.... ]
Keep on like that and we might not make it there. [Seriously, the urge to throw caution out of the window is growing stronger with every second. Sand could always be washed off later right? But no, a place has been promised, he can see it through the nearby trees. It's not far away at all and yet it feels like a million miles away as Shanks starts the awkward walk, keeping his grip on Buggy and pausing only to nuzzle against the other's jawline. ]
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Lazy.
[it's repeated, muffled, against shanks' throat, but they're still moving in what he assumes is the right direction so he doesn't try to derail things with an argument. in fact, he can make things a lot easier - for his own sake, obviously. he's a bad guy, bad guys aren't helpful. so of course it's totally selfish of him to come apart, leaving only his lower half for shanks to balance in one arm, legs still clamped firm on the redhead's hips; buggy grabs him by the shirt and kisses him again, fiercely, floating torso half-dragging shanks along without even paying attention to where they're going. as long as his feet are on the ground, he's effectively weightless, but with total control over his pieces he can still flex his hips just enough to tease the bulge digging into him.
he's paying attention to nothing but tugging shanks and kissing the breath out of him when his back hits a tree, just a few yards away from the little beach hut. it forces a breath out of him, half gasp and half moan, sending a fresh spike of lust through his body. this is the least efficient method of making it from one place to the other but buggy couldn't care less; if they have to stop now for any reason, he's going to scream.
detached hands will start making quick work of shanks' shirt in the meantime, stripping it off so that buggy can drag his fingers over lean muscle, following the ripple over shanks' abdomen. then he grabs his ass with both hands and pulls him forward, grinding their hips together, pressing buggy's back harder against the rough bark and another filthy moan into the eager kisses.]
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[Getting to the shack had been one of Shanks more pressing priorities, the thought of spending a day (or two) wrapped up with Buggy in bed both potent and vivid in his mind. How could either of them refuse the allure of indulging in each other as much as they could without the interruptions of crew and life. But before Shanks can even wrap his head around what's happening — too distracted by the feel of Buggy against him — there's a sudden pair of hands at his shirt, dragging him along.
Anyone else would be concerned by such an event, if not freaked out that their partner had just literally come apart. But if anything it only serves to make Shanks' blood run all the hotter as he allows Buggy to drag him along, his imagination fueled with all the things they could do with those devil fruit powers. Now it's easy to carry the other with only one arm, but the way Buggy grinds against him tests the last shred of the redhead's patience as he gives another heated groan at the friction.
They're only a few steps away from the door but Buggy isn't helping any as they both connect with a tree and instantly Shanks is pressing up against Buggy harder, loathe to miss the opportunity to push him firmly against it. He's only just aware of his shirt being removed, gasping as cool air hits heated skin, and the feel of fingers along his abdomen only serves to underline the way Buggy's groan goes straight to his cock. The noises Buggy makes are filthy, sinful and hot. Shanks has no doubt he'll be hearing them ringing in his ears for eternity and right now he can't help but claim Buggy's lips with his own, freeing his only hand to tug none too lightly at the other pirate's hair.
If things keep on they're not going to make it to the hut and Shanks breaks the kiss, giving Buggy's lower lip a small bite to get his attention. Full sentences aren't a thing as the redhead's mind is more occupied with the hands at his ass, on giving a slow, purposeful roll of his hips against Buggy's and he utters a single word before leaning in to bite lightly at the other's neck. ]
Here?
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Ahh-h--
[he only just stops himself from moaning out shanks' name as intense need starts to disintegrate what's left of his self control. his fingers dig in harder, demanding another flex of the redhead's hips, meeting them with a sinuous ripple. he's so keyed up that the friction against his own hard cock leaves him shaking.]
Yeah, yes - right here - [demanding is starting to sound more and more like pleading; buggy wants shanks so badly that he doesn't care where they are anymore - fortunately, however, he has just enough clear thought in his head to remember that they are literally steps away from not needing to fuck against a tree.] Wait. No, wait -
[he's more aware of shanks' body than his own and isn't even sure which of his pieces are attached right now, but his feet are one the ground and that's all that matters. it takes a surge of willpower to push shanks back, and to keep going in the direction of the nearby bed, but buggy's patience gives out just in time for every piece to collide into shanks at once, sending them both across the threshold of the little beach hut in a tangled heap. buggy is kissing him again before they even hit the ground.]
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Wait. Bed. By the time Shanks pieces two and two together that the bed isn't that far away they're already tumbling through the doorway, his back hitting the floor hard enough it would have taken his breath away had Buggy's lips not already been back against his.
The floor is marginally better than a tree, but even with Buggy on him Shanks can see the bed from his vantage point. The sooner they get there the sooner there's nothing to think about and he can focus on more important things, like fucking Buggy until the sun rises. He breaks the kiss only to press his own back against Buggy's in an almost chaste peck of the lips, ignoring how his body screams against the notion of stopping temporarily. )
Bed. C'mon. ( Shanks takes a breath, steeling the last of his resolve to grab a handful of Buggy's shirt, tugging the other up and only relinquishing his grip to give Buggy a shove down on to the bed. Manhandling? Maybe, Shanks knows he can apologise later for it, focusing on removing Buggy's shirt instead, desperate to feel heated skin against his own. )
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shanks won't hear a single word of argument. buggy is quick to wriggle out of his own shirt, and then the rest of his clothes, trying to press close and kiss shanks as much as he can the whole time. no sooner has he stripped himself bare than he drops a floating hand between them, fondling the bulge of shanks' cock even while buggy wraps both arms around his neck.
fuck. did he get bigger? of course he did, they grew up. fuck.]
I'll suck your dick first if you ask me nicely.
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Even the sight of Buggy's cock has Shanks' mouth watering and not for the last time that night the wish to have both hands at his disposal crosses his mind. He'll just have to use the one to leave as many marks as he can and Shanks is already digging fingers in at Buggy's hip as the comment reaches his ears. Each syllable skitters down his spine heatedly and Shanks can't help the shudder that ripples through him. How long has he wanted to hear that? Too long.
Still, trust Buggy to issue such a challenge and, despite thinking on how grown up they were not mere moments ago, Shanks can't help but push back, flashing his teeth as he smirks. ]
And if I don't ask nicely?
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Then you'll have to make me.
[it's such a dare that buggy might as well just say so, and it's written in his hungry gaze, the challenging lift of his chin. they're well past the point of him using something like that as an excuse to abandon shanks here; now buggy's determined to make it worth his while to have answered the summons at all. one way or another he's going to get the treasure he came for.]
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The challenge is issued from Buggy, the dare unspoken but still ringing in the redhead's ears and he delights in the defiant tilt of Buggy's chin in a familiar motion that promised the best kinds of trouble. The urge to just shrug his pants off and press up against the other pirate captain is almost a mantra in Shanks' mind and he takes a deep breath, steeling himself to hold out a little longer in the name of tormenting Buggy for daring to be so wilful at such a time. ]
Guess I'll have to. Make you wait that is. Tease you — [ Shanks dips his head, nipping at the pale skin of Buggy's shoulder none too lightly in between words. ] — until you're the one — [ another nip, this time further down ] — begging for my dick.
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