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re-voicetesting.

[ 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. ]

[buggy would be even more forthcoming with his enjoyment if his mouth wasn't full, but he's not going to risk ruining a successful blowjob just to say a bunch of filthy shit about it, particularly when dracule mihawk is the one coming incrementally undone whenever he gets something right. every time one of those solid muscles goes taut and tense, buggy's greedy touch makes an almost reverent pass over it, like he's collecting spilled coins, wanting everything he can get his hands on.

the unexpected caress makes him tremble, and then go still... like he's bracing himself, for the briefest moment, to get yanked off of mihawk's dick and have his neck snapped. but it's only a breath before he melts again, jaw going slack to let the swordsman fuck his face with no resistance. the harder mihawk thrusts, the more pliant he'll become, casting a plaintive - but not discouraging - look up at the older man as that thick cock saws his throat open, until his eyes start to water.

it's degrading and dirty and buggy is blindingly turned on, although that might just be the tears prickling forward as his mouth and throat are stretched and used. he can barely hold himself together enough to breathe, let alone make more noise than the wet, choking sounds that are already obscenely loud in the quiet room. on his knees, his thighs spread open, and his hands drop, too keyed up to risk even a light touch until the older man has shot his load; on a particularly bruising thrust, the tears spill over, leaving muddy tracks through white face paint.]

[ Incrementally undone is right. And now every thrust he puts into Buggy's willing throat seems to strip off another layer, earning a short moan here, or an arch of his spine there that makes it seem like he's actively pushing his body into whatever part the younger man is touching as opposed to simply tolerating it. And all the while he notices how pliant Buggy is becoming, submitting even though it's so obvious he must be struggling. The older man's observation is a breathy thing. ]

Astounding.

[ Mihawk can see what Crocodile must have before him: it's like this man was made to be used. And either he's the best actor Mihawk has ever seen - and he's spent the night with a few whores in his time - or he relishes it. It's time to reward his efforts and his obedience by releasing them both. ]

Do mind my boots, B--

[ But whether he thinks better of finishing that sentence or can't hold back anymore, Mihawk's breath hitches and his jaw clenches. His hands are a vice, pulling the clown's mouth flush against his pelvis as he comes down Buggy's throat. Each pulse of his cock is signaled by a heavy blink of those dark lashes; like a child stubbornly fighting sleep, he fights completely succumbing to the pleasure rolling over him in waves, though he has no predilections against humping the younger man's face until he feels like he's properly emptied his load inside of him.

Only then does Mihawk melt back against his chair, exhaling hard before following up with a low, sated groan. The heel of one of his hands pushes against Buggy's forehead to free him from the swordsman's spent dick, finally allowing him some well-deserved air while Hawk Eyes himself works on catching his breath. ]

[the increasingly lightheaded clown does experience a brief moment of vague, detached concern for the idea that mihawk may have been planning to kill him like this the whole time, or perhaps even just saw an opportunity - but it passes, roared away in the tide of delirious satisfaction he gets from knowing that mihawk is fucking him this ruthlessly because buggy made him want to.

the first rush of come down his throat makes him whimper, properly ravaged by lust, jaw aching, eyes stinging and blurred as those strong hands clutch at his skull. with mihawk's cock stuffed so deep he can't even breathe through his nose without choking, he's still prompted by some higher plane instinct to lift his eyes in time to catch a glimpse of something he wants to remember for the rest of his life. the discipline that the swordsman has over his body even in the middle of an orgasm is fascinatingly erotic, and attaching the image of mihawk breathless with ecstasy to the way mihawk's dick throbs inside him is simply more than buggy was prepared to handle. he feels himself come, untouched, like the pleasure is pouring straight from mihawk's body into his own, going from a tremor to a quake. the only reason he doesn't jerk off and really lose himself to it is because he can't seem to remember how to make his arms move. frankly, he's amazed they stayed attached.

he's lucky mihawk offers him a hand, because by the time the dick slides out of his mouth buggy scarcely knows which way is up. it leaves the taste of come on his tongue and a little pearl on his lower lip and the pure exhilaration of air in his lungs; buggy coughs, inhales, coughs again, and starts to slump against mihawk's thigh - only remembering, at the last possible second, about the fucking boots.

so instead the clown just flops backward, going limp onto the wine-colored rug. give him a minute and he'll start running at the mouth again, no matter how ruined he sounds. but his lungs need to stop burning first.]

[ The world is a bit of a blur, everything in it surrounded by an extra halo of light, but it's a pleasant thing. With Buggy spilled out over his rug, Mihawk stares off towards his kitchenette and his freshly swept floors. One of his hands rubs lazily at his bare chest with satisfaction as he swims in the cocktail of chemicals provided by orgasm, unconsciously smearing white and blue paint across it as he does from a few of his fingers. The other hand just as unhurriedly tucks himself away. He feels incredible; he always forgets how much of a stress reliever sex can be when he's gone without it for a while.

After his own minute of sorting himself, he leans forward to look down at the mess on his floor - that is to say Buggy. All the coughing left him sure the man was still alive, but conscious might be another matter. Not that he's concerned or anything, you see, it would just be terribly inconvenient... Mihawk also gives his boots a once-over for cum stains. ]

[if he lost consciousness he would miss this and he absolutely does not want to forget a second of feeling this good. he still feels a low thrum of electricity beneath his skin; as soon as he goes back to his own room, he's going to replay all of this in his mind and see about taking the remaining edge off. but as his heartbeat slows and his head clears, he thinks he's probably won about as much as he can expect at this game.

heaving one last sigh, he manages to prop himself up onto his elbows, flushed and shiny with sweat and admiring both of those things about mihawk. the smear of lurid color across those muscles, holy shit - if you want him to stop savoring this moment, you're going to have to kill him.]

...figures you'd have a killer dick to go with the everything else about you.

[clearing his throat doesn't help much; he sounds like he's swallowed sand.]

Boots?

[ Killer dick. Mihawk scoffs softly. Why does he let himself fuck pirates? He would have been more disgusted if he wasn't still in recovery from Buggy sucking his ~~bitchiness~~ brains out, a fact he's reminded of by the huskiness in the aforementioned pirate's voice. The boots? ]

Unsullied.

[ He relaxes back once more in his chair and doffs his hat, using one hand to protect the feather while fanning himself slowly with the brim like he's a sinner in church (well, the sinner part is right at least). The other hand pushes through his thick, dark hair, getting a bit more air circulation going through it. Indeed, Mihawk is flushed all over with his arousal, though patches are beginning to fade back to pale skin as he winds down. His eyes, half-mast, consider the clown. ]

This never happened. [ He drawls. ] Do I need to threaten you?

[ He has all the attitude of a teacher who doesn't want to run detention any more than the one student they have in it wants to be there. If they can just come to an agreement, they can go about the rest of their nights without wasting time standing on ceremony. ]

[thank fuck for that, at least, that buggy doesn't have to worry about fixing his own fuckup because he was too dickmatized not to come all over the boots he'd just finished polishing. the clown keeps winning and the star keeps rising!

it's hard to take his eyes off of the swordsman without any real motivation to do so; buggy watches him cool himself with naked interest now, imagining what it would feel like to run his own fingers through mihawk's hair, or what the man would look like with a patchwork of red lipstick kisses all over his neck and chest. at least he wisely keeps his thoughts to himself.]

No sir~

[it would take more than the sum total of blades mihawk has on his person to slice the smugness out of the emperor, but he knows the rules of this game. buggy arguably has more to lose by running his mouth about tonight's events, no matter how precious mihawk's reputation may be to him. and it's hardly the first time buggy the clown has been someone's dirty little secret. he gets to go to sleep tonight with a load of come in his belly and his brain full of big ideas about where to go from here.

maybe the world's greatest swordsman won't ever let buggy touch him again after tonight. but the cross guild endures... who knows what'll happen?

buggy cards his own hair out of his face with a softer sigh, shaking the disheveled mess back over his shoulders before he gets to his feet. only then does he tuck himself away, buckling his vest and rubbing a hand across his flushed, tender mouth, smearing already-ruined makeup even further.]

If you ever want to... release some tension, [one hand floats to the fruit bowl, and quickly steals a wedge of pineapple before darting back to its owner,] you know where to find me. No questions asked.

[luck sufficiently pushed, buggy takes a bite of pineapple and opts for a quick getaway.]

Buggy.

[ Mihawk attempts to stop the clown with the sound of his name alone before he gets out of the door. ]

Take this with you.

[ He rolls his yellow eyes sidelong and pushes both the wine bottles to the edge of his desk, both the empty one he drank and the one that Buggy attempted to give him. If the man learns from it, good. If not, at least he's taking trash out so Mihawk doesn't have to. Whether Buggy chooses to soothe that surely stinging throat of his with the one during his walk-of-shame back to his accomodations is neither here nor there to Hawk Eyes. ]

That'll be all.

[ You know, in case Buggy thought he was getting away with the last word. ]

[his name is enough to stop him, not least of the reasons why being that he doesn't know if he's ever heard mihawk say it before. certainly not without a layer of venomous contempt making it less of a name and more of a curse. it almost makes up for the fact that mihawk is just using the opportunity to dump one more chore on him before he escapes.

so be it; buggy will foist the bottle of piss-wine onto the first sailor he sees or just toss it out of the pavilion to be discovered and consumed later; mihawk was right about the crew at large having no taste to speak of, but buggy has decided to pay closer attention to such things. see where that gets him. he'll recognize the bottle of the good stuff if he sees another one, that's for sure.

the last word belongs to mihawk. buggy knows he's getting away with plenty. all he offers is a twisted grin beneath the streaked remains of his makeup before he slips out through the tent flap into the darkness beyond.]

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