youshidiots | open 🤡 overflow

[ Mihawk isn't the world's best people reader, but even through the makeup, the apprehension in the other man is apparent. He knows he deserves that. There is no real trust between the leaders of this guild, at least not presently, though they do have a few unifying goals. That's enough for now.

Now that he clearly has Buggy's eyes, Mihawk will let him go at the question, giving a soft huff as he settles back again. ]

That's an entirely different issue than what we're discussing.

[ He won't make promises about not getting angry - he'd have broken it only a few minutes ago when the cartoon idea was brought up. Now what he does about that anger could possibly change. Will it? Well, one thing at a time. What he's about to offer up feels major enough. ]

... But I wouldn't have minded terribly tonight. You did something deserving of the recognition, finally. I've never been interested in those sorts of accolades.

Edited (we needed the pouty icon) 2023-12-05 06:09 (UTC)

[this time buggy's silence isn't forced. even without mihawk's hold on him, it takes him a second to sink back again, certainly looking as bemused as he feels. the validation wraps itself around him like a warm, heavy blanket, and buggy wants to clutch at it, conscious of how easily it could be ripped right out of his hands again - less likely to be an act of cruelty than by his own miscalculations, it seems. although buggy can't imagine giving up the screaming horde of devoted followers who cheer on everything he does, there is something altogether priceless by comparison about mihawk's hard-won acknowledgement. whether it's obvious yet or not, he's starting to pay better attention to the nuance of this particular treasure hunt... learning to pick the lock, perhaps, instead of just blowing it up.

mollified, buggy picks up the supplies again to resume polishing the boots. it helps to be doing something with his hands when he's considering his options.]

What if it's something I wouldn't think to ask?

[less of an immediate concern, more of a preemptive one, for which mihawk will hopefully have a suggestion as opposed to just a warning to watch his back. he glances up again, very mindful of the polish in his hand and the boot still being (respectfully) manhandled in his lap.]

I'll do my best, obviously - but you're not the easiest guy in the world to get to know, Hawk Eyes.

Often I see no reason to allow myself to be known.

[ In other words, this is a feature, not a bug. Until Perona decided to just invade his home and his life, Shanks was probably the person who knew Mihawk best. In some ways he still is. And like Buggy, that had started off in an effort not to be murdered by the swordsman.

He spares a moment and another sip of wine to wonder what they're up to now, his gaze going off into the middle distance of the tent. ]

I can hardly give a reliable answer for vague hypotheticals. I suppose - what's the parlance? We'll "cross that bridge when we get to it".

[ Buggy may just have to keep on learning the hard way. ]

I would suggest you focus on doing your best with what you have before you now. [ His heel pushes itself into Buggy's thigh - not hard, but enough to draw attention back towards it. ] This is what's in the scope of your control.

[buggy had his mouth open to argue, for all the good it would have done him, but the sudden beat of unexpected pressure gives him a noticeable start; it does drop his attention immediately back to the task at hand, and also serves as a perfectly timed reminder to shut the fuck up for a second. he really feels like he's fucking getting somewhere right now so get out of your own way, you idiot.

if you see him flushing under his makeup, no you don't.]

Quit it - you're gonna have some patchy-ass boots if you jostle me around.

[he gets mouthy when he's feeling confident, which mihawk is free to take as either a good or bad sign, depending on what he's hoping to accomplish with this whole encounter. buggy has definitely taken some things to heart, though the chances are good that he's taking more than mihawk intended to give. but the chances are also good that these boots are going to be polished as hell in a few minutes; buggy works in near silence, switching boots halfway, until both of them are sleek and shiny.

then he sits back, grabbing the damp cloth so he can rub his hands clean.]

Since we're trying to stay on the same page and everything, I just feel like I have to tell you: if you smudge up my work before it dries, I will never invite you to another party ever again.

[ Unbeknownst to Buggy, Mihawk had planned to make this very difficult for him - crossing his legs, maybe kicking the other in the process, test the clown's temper, that sort of thing. But now they've had this little tete-a-tete, he feels content to watch the other man take care of his boots. He notes the silence and sees no need to break it; this focused, diligent side of Buggy is an interesting one to be sure, and for once it feels like he really is able to separate the makeup from the man. Hawk Eyes finishes his wine and even waits for an opportune moment before placing the glass aside. By the time the other finishes, he feels centered, the sting of the earlier offense soothed.

Instead of taking hold of the man's chin for attention this time, Mihawk gives in to the temptation to push his fingers down into that cotton candy hair. They slide across Buggy's scalp, coming to grip at the root firmly, though not enough to hurt. He could tell the other man that he did a good job and that would surely be enough, but he's just finished doing Dracule a service, so there's an even more appropriate pair of words to give. He wonders how they'll land. ]

Thank you.

[every time buggy tells himself he's got a decent handle on how to deal with dracule mihawk from now on, the swordsman does some new fucking thing to smack him right back down off his high horse.

except in this case it's not a slap - it's fingers in his hair. he's been taking better care of it these days, so it's thick and perhaps surprisingly soft, very fun to touch in fact, for a tactile sort of person. but whether mihawk intended it for the purpose or not, having his hair stroked and then gripped like that sends a charge straight through him, heat blooming under his skin; his breath hitches, catching his voice in his throat so he can't say anything without swallowing first.

is it possible getting that thank you feels even better? maybe. but the hand in his hair is very distracting.]

You're... welcome. [he very clearly envisions himself climbing into the swordsman's lap. distracting.] Just don't get used to me doing your chores for you.

[said as if he might not fuck everything up all over again tomorrow, or the day after, or the day after that. that's future-buggy's problem. present-buggy tilts his head a little just to see if mihawk will maintain that solid grip.]

But I wouldn't be opposed to doing you a favor or two, every now and then. If you felt like it. [pushing his luck? there's plausible deniability in there still, for either one of them. but buggy is prepared to kick that door wide open if mihawk agrees to unlock it.] Just something to think about~

[ He's surprised by the texture, having expected something closer to wool or raw cotton with how much volume there appears to be. More interesting at the moment, however, is Buggy's response. The touch had been experimental, a venture into finding something that might be considered rewarding to the younger man. Well it certainly seems to prove effective, though Mihawk wasn't expecting the effect it might have on him in turn. His sharp eyes pick up the flush beneath the make-up and his libido stirs with the same sort of interest as a shark smelling blood in the water. It's not the first time tonight it's happened, though it is the one where he feels the least disgusted with himself over it; being turned on by a man flustering beneath his hand and between his thighs seems pretty reasonable.

It's the thought of using his grip to guide the clown's face further between them that's ill-advised and should stop immediately. Buggy helps by trying to pull his head away, something he can interpret as discomfort; the grip maintains for a moment longer before Mihawk releases him. His traitorous fingers take another stroke across that scalp, though, wanting another little pass through the soft strands before Buggy either does or doesn't take the opportunity to escape.

And then there's talk of favors. Hawk Eyes tilts his head, one feathered brow arching. With a meal mostly consisting of a bottle of sangria and a handful of kettle corn in him, Mihawk feels it's perfectly acceptable to be ~~catty~~ curious since he's been presented the opportunity. ]

Would those be the same sort of "favors" you provide Crocodile?

[ Actually, it's a thought that has crossed his mind a couple of times tonight, so it's really more like he's finally giving in to the temptation to call Buggy out on it to confirm suspicions. Better him than Crocodile. ]

[disappointment flickers visibly across his face when mihawk lets him go, but he takes it in stride - he hasn't been pushed away or hit or even told to shut up just yet, and more than that, it's clear that mihawk is curious now. buggy can do so much with curiosity.

he doesn't disguise the shiver that the lingering touch gives him, or the way his lips part on a sharp little exhale, or the way his eyes dilate, going dark with want. there's no trick to it: mihawk is outrageously attractive, after all, tall and dark and strong, and - at least for the moment - not trying to kill or maim him. once again, buggy is faced with a dangerous gamble: quit while he's still ahead, or try and double his winnings, at the risk of losing everything he came in with and then some.

when mihawk mentions crocodile, any lingering caution evaporates instantly. now buggy is certain he has the older man's attention.]

Maybe. I mean, I wouldn't mind.

[without admitting specifics just yet. that's less about plausible deniability now, and more about not discussing private affairs between himself and crocodile without the right assurances being in place. he shifts on the floor, back onto his knees, in the process bringing himself a little bit closer between mihawk's spread thighs. buggy keeps his hands to himself for the moment, but there's blatant invitation in the way he looks coyly up at the swordsman through long lashes covered in blue glitter.]

It would only be fair - if that's what you wanted. See, Croccy's real good about letting me know exactly what he wants. You like to be all mysterious about it. But we all want this arrangement to work out... don't we?

[buggy certainly does. he's made that abundantly clear and will continue to do so. he knows crocodile is invested, and suspects he's becoming more so all the time. mihawk is the one who only seems to be here because he's bored. if that's the case, buggy is very interested in keeping him entertained.

now he risks losing a hand by running his fingers up the back of mihawk's leg, above his freshly polished boot, trailing up the side of his knee, toward his thigh, coaxing him to open his legs a little more.]

How about just a taste? To help you decide. [he grins - wicked, darting his tongue across the red paint on his lips.] You can keep touching my hair if you want.

[ Once again, Mihawk is surprised by Buggy's response. He anticipated at least a little floundering under the question, but it actually seems to embolden the clown. He draws a slow, steadying inhale through his nose as the other man comes up onto his knees, refusing the urge to sit up straighter himself.

Hawk Eyes doesn't intend to let anyone - much less someone like Buggy - see him sweat. He can't really do anything about the bit of a flush crawling across the pale skin of his throat and chest, though, when that tongue darts out suggestively and something between arousal and repulsion rolls hotly over him. Incredible how brazen this man has gotten - that momentary coyness combined with the glitter is funny - while knowing Mihawk has at least three blades within arm's reach. No more than a day or so ago, he'd have made Buggy regret it.

For now, he gives a soft scoff. His leg refuses to budge, but that also means a boot isn't going into Buggy's chest either. ]

If I allowed such a thing, I'd be the one doing you the favor.

[without the fact of crocodile to embolden him, mihawk would likely have seen the exact side of buggy he was expecting. but it famously takes very little success for the clown to get extremely cocky - and crocodile, by comparison, is a very big one. although buggy is not nearly as in control of that situation as he would, if pressed, insist he is, having gotten as far as he has with the devilishly pragmatic crime boss has bolstered his ego considerably. he wasn't lying about crocodile making his... desires... perfectly clear.

one performance after another, drawing him ever closer to the one piece. he'd much rather have his back blown out over a desk than get pummeled by a big angry fist covered in heavy rings. he's even optimistic that crocodile is starting to develop a similar preference. give him an inch, and buggy will always take a mile, if not more.

since he's still got his hands, the caress presses further up the swordsman's inner thigh. it's exclusively a demonstration of respect that he doesn't touch anywhere else without mihawk's permission, as much as he wants to, but surely there's nothing about the offer that isn't obvious now.]

Does that mean you want me to say please?

[ The thing Mihawk didn't really understand was why. Why would Crocodile engage in any sort of intimate acts when he seemed to hate Buggy even more than Hawk Eyes did? Was it just another way to brutalize him, or was there something more to it? A man like Mihawk has very few peers in the world, but he considers Crocodile to be one of them. And if there's one thing about him that could be said to be a fatal flaw, it's that he's always had a certain inclination to see how he measures up against his peers...

Mihawk settles an elbow on the arm of the chair and drops his jaw into his hand, fingers musing across his immaculately curated mustache. He's looking at Buggy as if they're sitting across a poker table right now and he's trying to decide to call the man's bluff or fold. It's only how loose his trousers are that are keeping his own major tell from being obvious. ]

It wouldn't hurt.

[buggy and crocodile both happen to be of the opinion - come by very different processes of logic - that you don't actually have to like someone personally to like how it feels to fuck them. or get fucked by them, in buggy's case. it's worth assuming that at some point, not long after buggy's grand declaration, he made an offer to crocodile very similar to the one he's giving mihawk now, on his knees (undoubtedly under less civilized circumstances, with a more effusive display of submission), and crocodile had, for his own reasons and with absolutely no affection, given the prostrate emperor what he begged for. maybe his disgust doesn't actually extend to how buggy looks with less clown paint all over his face. maybe he was just really in the mood at the time to have his dick sucked. neither of them figure it matters.

in any case, buggy's goal is to make this point in his favor count for more than all the ones currently being held against him. he thinks he's making progress. mihawk would have to find out from crocodile directly whether buggy is deluding himself again... or not.]

Mihawk... [another deferential play, biting his tongue on the pet name at the tip of it. buggy keeps his voice soft.] ...please let me stuff your cock down my throat.

[ How vulgar... It absolutely works for him. Arousal goes from a disconcerting glow of coals in his gut to a proper flame as Buggy tosses some lighter fluid on it with that stunt. Mihawk understands he's being catered to, but he doesn't really mind in this instance. Maybe it's the wine talking. Maybe it's the fact he hasn't had something like this in longer than he cares to admit. Maybe it really is just that damnable morbid sense of curiosity.

Really, what matters is that he can just put a stop to things if he's not impressed. And there's always, always the option to kill Buggy later. Mihawk's bright eyes half-hood themselves. His response is a dark sort of drawl. ]

Very well, clown. Amuse me.

[ The command comes with Mihawk finally parting his thighs. His free hand drops into his lap, almost lazily undoing his belt with a clink and glitter of gold. He's already well on his way to being erect thanks to Buggy's tentative touches and unfettered phrasing. ]

[it is buggy's dearest wish, at the moment, that by the end of the night mihawk will actually want to kill him less.

amuse me, he says, and buggy shudders so deliciously it makes him laugh - not unlike his manic giggle, but practically breathless as his stomach goes tight with pleasure. it's possible mihawk isn't being strictly catered to as much as he thinks... buggy really, really loves attention. and he really fucking loves how it feels to win.

the gleam of the belt may as well be the lock on a treasure chest as it pops open, and buggy's caress can finally spread from the swordsman's strong inner thighs to wrap around his cock. if left to his own devices, buggy will take a moment just to admire him (fuck yes, he knew he'd be sexy as hell all over) as the shaft fills out in his hand, before he leans in closer and draws it to his mouth for the taste he promised.

buggy's free hand slips inside the older man's trousers, running along the angle of one lean hipbone as the other works him fully to hardness, attended by buggy's eager tongue tracing the vein, teasing beneath the head. his hair is already coming free of its loose binding thanks to mihawk's rewarding touch, but it would be relatively simple to collect it all again, if mihawk is the type that likes to steer.]

[ Funnily enough, Buggy achieved his goal for the evening before they got this far, which is also why they got this far. Now he's definitely put himself in a position of double-or-nothing. He's lucky Mihawk takes the laugh for what it is and doesn't decide to take offense.

That cock is far more forthcoming than its owner, twitching strongly inside of the gloved touch of a sailor working it to full mast. Mihawk merely gives a soft sigh. The tease of tongue is rewarded with not just an actual shiver through the swordmaster, but a pearl or two of pre-cum as well.

Hawk Eyes is perfectly capable of steering (one could say he's been steering most of the night) but he's not going to do Buggy's job for him after issuing the challenge, at least not before he's close. The diva can have his stage, Mihawk's undivided attention, and enough rope to hang himself with if he's not careful. The older man will push his hand back into that blue hair, however, actively beginning to card through it this time to get a better feel for it without a care for how it spills loose from its binding in the process. His abs tighten just above where Buggy warms his hip with a low, humming sort of note of approval. So far, so good. ]

[every little shiver of pleasure from the man above him melts buggy further over his lap. it makes him sink mihawk's cock into his mouth, makes his roaming touch more shameless, pressing his fingers into the taut muscle of the man's stomach as his head starts to bob, and every time mihawk's fingers move in his hair, buggy takes the hard length of him in deeper.

when he hears that low sound, it makes his eyes roll shut. if he loses everything else, that's the treasure he's leaving with.

he draws all the way up once, working his tongue into the sluggishly weeping tip. then buggy's eyes open, lifting to mihawk's face as he lowers his mouth over him, until his cock opens up the tight circle of buggy's throat with a filthy wet sound. he swallows him to the base, both hands spreading open across the swordsman's hips, digging in as if to pull him even closer; hopefully mihawk won't mind the ring of red lipstick left behind when the clown starts to move again.]

[ It very quickly becomes apparent he's not dealing with an amateur - for once the clown's confidence doesn't seem misplaced - and more than that, it's an act the other probably enjoys. The difference between those who like it and those who do it out of necessity is usually night and day in his experience. Mihawk allows Buggy to feel up his chest, the dig into his belly calling more heat to crawl down to those fingertips.

There's a responsive jerk as the tongue works into his slit, thighs and jaw flexing. It's only predicting what's coming when Buggy looks up at him - no doubt because he's about to pull some shit that he wants to see the response for - that keeps him from being overwhelmed by it. The feeling is incredible, a tight and slick heat that only a throat can give. The make-up gives the illusion that Buggy's face is splitting open as he takes the swordsman to the hilt; it's fascinatingly macabre. Mihawk is still unaware his own lips part for the show of it, though, chest heaving all the more obviously as both arousal and the multiple times he's had to swallow sounds by now have thickened up his breathing. His grip hardens in Buggy's hair at the base of his skull, making to keep him exactly where he is sealed against Mihawk's pelvis. Dark lashes shiver a bit over his striking eyes, which have darkened themselves to more of a honey gold for being so stimulated, but his gaze doesn't waver from the green one below.

His free hand drops to cup Buggy's cheek and jaw, thumb tracing over where that stained upper lip stretches around his erection. ]

I can't decide whether I'd rather come in you or on you.

[ It would sound conversational if not for how breathy it is. Mihawk holds Buggy another second or so more before finally relenting his grip. ]

[the clown takes that hold like a champ, even when his jaw starts to ache from the strain; he's so turned on that the only sensation he really notices is the lust that keeps spiking in his belly every time mihawk's fingers flex in his hair. he can only breathe through his nose, buried in the dark hairs at the base of the swordsman's cock, and the scent of mihawk is intoxicating, thick and heavy, sinking into buggy's brain as those long fingers twist in his hair.

he can barely make a sound without gagging, but he manages an eager little whine as mihawk's thumb brushes his mouth. it's only when mihawk speaks up that the sound becomes high and desperate; when the grip relaxes, buggy draws off of the hard length with a greedy, gasping moan.]

I want it in me.

[his voice is hoarse and hitched, but insistent, and the double meaning is intentional, even if it's only for the next time. if mihawk decides there is one, of course. buggy's flush is high and pronounced, eyes glassy with desire and utterly shameless, as he strokes the hard shaft in one soft glove and covers the head with a suckling kiss.]

I want you to fill me up. Make a mess of me. [a little kitten lick across the tip, as buggy offers mihawk a wanton grin. there's really no wrong answer here as far as he's concerned.] But it's your call, Hawk Eyes... whatever you want.

[ Mihawk takes very good care of his body, so it should come as no surprise his grooming habits extend down to where Buggy gets to bury his nose, as dark and tidy as the rest. This is already definitely the most significant amount of makeup he's going to have to clean off of himself, but the older man is about where Buggy is at the moment in terms of giving a damn about the details that don't immediately relate to his lust. All that whining travels right down his dick and wraps a threatening fist around his balls. Thank god Buggy can clearly be counted on to babble when given the opportunity.

He uses the moment of impassioned pleading to take some stabilizing breaths through his nose. A few more tricks of experience are employed when the clown continues to coax and tease, focusing instead on each of those individual elements of arousal on the other rather than the whole picture. A low groan drags itself out of Mihawk, meant to be considering, but it's more wanting than he would have hoped. It's easily the best idea that's ever come out of Buggy.

His own tongue makes a brief appearance to wet his lips as Buggy points out it's whatever he wants. Very good. ]

You have been working very hard...

[ The fingers of one hand pet back the cotton candy blue hair from the other's temple. The other comes to curl around the one working him over, squeezing to put a stop on it, at least for now. The predatory eyes rake over the younger man, this time all the way down his body to the floor. He grabs hold of the man's hair and tilts his head back just so his view isn't obscured; the bared throat isn't a bad bonus either. ]

Touch yourself.

[when buggy hears that groan, he has to squeeze his thighs together, without thinking, needing just a shred of relief for his own aching cock before he can think straight enough to do what he's told. he isn't nearly as accomplished at compartmentalizing his pleasure as mihawk, even though all he's really gotten so far is a few thoughtful caresses... and the most tantalizing little morsels of appreciation.

he nearly dives back into the swordsman's lap to swallow him again, but once again the hand in his hair keeps him still. the deceptive gentleness of that first touch alone makes him visibly tremble, catching his lower lip between his teeth - until mihawk tightens his grip again, wrenching a gasp of delirious arousal from the clown's throat as his neck arches back, exposed.]

Ah-h--

[thank fuck mihawk chooses to give him that order; buggy receives it like a gift.

his first touch is impatient, out of sheer necessity; one hand starts at his stomach and drops almost immediately to the front of his trousers, so he can give himself a firm, grounding squeeze, drawing in a sharply uneven breath. it makes his eyes flutter shut, but not for long - he wants to keep his eyes on the older man's face to make sure he's being watched and hopefully admired, even if it's only for the obedience. his free hand slides over his chest, fingers ghosting across the base of his throat, and with the other he opens up his pants and reaches eagerly inside to take hold of his own erection with a gasping moan. buggy is too hot all over, drawing fire and electricity across his own skin, arching against mihawk's hold and into his own hands as he strokes himself and works his fingers inside his vest to touch bare skin.]

Like this...? [it's hard to choose between watching mihawk's face and staring hungrily at his cock, although the sharp angle makes the choice a little easier.] I'm so fucking hard just from sucking your dick... do you like that?

[ A sword is, in Mihawk's opinion, ultimately an extension of oneself, thus mastery in swordplay required mastery of oneself. With an unfamiliar partner, his tendency is to be on the defensive and discern what he's working with before he decides on how to proceed. It's almost perfectly antithetical to how unrestrained and obvious Buggy is about enjoying himself, though it'd be a lie to say it isn't having an effect on the more aloof man.

There's no mistaking his focus, absorbing every little aspect of this private show as it unfolds; it wouldn't be wrong to see a hunger there, a well-trained animal that knows it will be fed eventually. The hand that isn't holding Buggy draws its index finger down his chin, smearing red as it lightly tugs down the man's lower lip and draws a line down the center of that vulnerable throat. If it wouldn't be so inconvenient to lean down so far, Mihawk would sink his teeth into it just to feel one of those whines rattling against them. He leans a little more into Buggy's space anyway, following the path that the man has made with his own fingers tracing across collarbones, tugging at the edge of that vest to better see it and how it's being touched. ]

Mm. [ It's a note of agreement. He does like it. He likes it a lot. ] You're not to finish unless I do. Understand?

[ The stare is back on Buggy's face, unnerving as ever, to try and pin him down beneath the order. ]

[that marking touch makes him swallow a please, not sure yet what he'd be pleading for and not wanting to derail whatever mihawk's intentions are either, because he is basking in this graceful indulgence and will do or say whatever is likely to win more. so of course mihawk proceeds to make the one demand that feels impossible.

buggy doesn't bite back his pleading sound this time, gripping himself tight to quell the heavy pulse of arousal that goes straight through him so he won't fail the challenge as soon as it's issued. but he doesn't stop touching himself, snapping the top buckle of his vest to make it easier to watch as his hand moves to his chest; as mihawk noted once already, the clown's body is lean and athletic and clearly accustomed to movement. and because he was built for self-sabotage, he pinches a nipple between two gloved fingers and twists.]

Yeah... yeah, I understand.

[it probably sounds a little desperate. he's hypnotized by that harrowing gaze. even the barest hint of displeasure on mihawk's face won't escape buggy's notice now, and he's so primed for the swordsman's approval that he's willing to fight himself just to get it. he's just waiting for whatever scene mihawk decides to set... so to speak.]

[ The other man seems as tightly drawn as a wire on a guitar and Mihawk cannot help but want to strum him. Buggy makes it far too tempting, being so eager and responsive, a fact that is going to bother Hawk Eyes when blood makes a return to his brain but right now is making him imagine how this ends. He can think of at least half a dozen ways to break the other man right now, the simplest and most effective of which would be to tell him to pack it up and leave immediately. How fortunate it is that Mihawk isn't as self-sabotaging as the clown, and he remembers the purpose of this little exchange isn't punishment for once.

That doesn't mean there isn't still room to tease him a bit. His fingertips curl against Buggy's chest, scraping ever so lightly down his sternum - Mihawk wants to claw properly, but he's pretty sure that'd snap the string he just wants to pluck at for now. They then wander over, making like they're about to complete the same gesture for Buggy on the other nipple... But then no. Psych. He sits back up, abandoning the younger man's chest in favor of gripping himself, giving a lazy sort of stroke. ]

Help yourself, then.

[ He instructs, and maybe there's just the hint of a smirk as he says it. It's tough to tell, and he makes it tougher by guiding Buggy's face back into his lap, slow enough the other man will be able to understand the swordsman is going to feed him his cock once more. ]

Edited 2023-12-08 06:26 (UTC)

[between mihawk's teasing and crocodile's manhandling, buggy couldn't guess for sure which one is more likely to kill him - although if mihawk put a premature end to this engagement, that might answer the question. not much of his responsiveness is performative, but there's definitely some wiggle room, a degree to which buggy could still be reined in if he needed to do it, if that's what mihawk wanted to see to keep treating him nicely. comparatively speaking.

the pathetic little whimper that falls out of him after that fake-out is genuine, and so is the shiver that follows it. his hips buck toward his fist before he can catch himself.

as soon as he's given his cue, he doesn't wait for mihawk to guide him all the way in. buggy opens his mouth for mihawk's cock with an obscene moan of satisfaction, muffled as soon as his lips seal around the shaft again. he keeps one hand on himself, alternating between a loose hold to fan his arousal and a tight grip to stave off release. but almost all of his energy pours into servicing mihawk: he takes the entire length into his mouth at once, letting the head stretch his throat open before he swallows around it, groaning in filthy pleasure so that the swordsman's substantial dick hums with it. then he relaxes, and pulls back to the head, where he seals his mouth and sucks, swiping every milked drop of precome from the tip with his enthusiastic tongue.

this time, when his eyes fall shut, they stay that way. mihawk can enjoy (or detest) the sparkle of his long eyelashes fanned above flushed cheekbones, as buggy diligently works back and forth between shallow and deep like he's trying to suck the man's brains out.]

[ It seems the time allowed earns Mihawk what he predicted, and wanted. Buggy's mouth and throat fits around him like a sleeve, tipping Mihawk's head back on his shoulders as his breath falls out of him in a sigh, thighs further parting to accommodate the guest between them. Damn. Dracule might consider one area of expertise - swordsmanship - above all the rest, but he can appreciate skill and determination when he sees it (and in this case experiences it). There isn't enough trust between them to shut his eyes, but he does allow his mind to clear as the other pirate begins to take him through the finale of tonight's service call. The lights are on upstairs, but there's only one bored look-out at home waiting for a snake to rise up and bite him while his guard is down. He's already planned ahead for such a possibility, so it won't take much thinking.

His thighs tighten into steel as the groan vibrates straight through him again, shivering with pleasure like it's managed to rattle his spine. It's the tongue flickering across his head that gets a light stomp from one of his boots and a choked off noise behind the flash of his teeth before Mihawk thrusts himself deeper into the clown's mouth; the closer he gets, the more sensitive it's becoming. When the electricity of it settles, he practically melts back into his seat, panting as Buggy begins to shift into a rhythm. After a moment, possibly not even consciously, Mihawk begins to follow it, rocking his hips to meet the painted lips. Glitter, lipstick, and nose-prints under his navel are decidedly a small price to pay for good head. Self-respect? That's a problem for a sober Hawk Eyes tomorrow.

His hand has stayed in Buggy's hair, fluctuating between worrying across the scalp and clutching at the root depending on how much Mihawk is affected by whatever he's doing, like a weather vane or a compass for the older man's pleasure where the tides of his breathing and the occasional strangle of sound offer far less. So it should come as little surprise that as the swordsman begins to approach climax, both his hands sink into that blue hair and clench, holding Buggy's head in place with his mouth still partly full of cock, though not so much he shouldn't be able to breathe.

Both Mihawk's thumbs smooth over blue brows, once again deceptively gentle. It contrasts with the intensity of his gaze and how, slowly at first, the older man begins to try and fuck Buggy's throat. Mess him up, the clown had invited him. There's probably enough sweat and saliva by now - all that's left are some tears. ]

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