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[ When his cock finally stops pulsing inside the younger man and the stupendous force of his orgasm turns him loose, Mihawk himself slumps to the side in his throne, caught by the elbow of the hand covering his mouth. He can't help a shiver from that final suck over his sensitive skin, and doesn't protest Buggy letting him go even if that hand stays in his hair, fingers relaxed enough to give implicit permission to do so.

For a moment, it seems the only sounds are the attempt to settle their breathing and the steady waft of it from the sea lapping the shore. When Buggy breaks the silence, Mihawk gives a low, humming note; he knows. His eyes blink slowly, smug as a cat on the sill after a meal. The fingers in Buggy's hair shift over his scalp, giving it silently praising little strokes as if the clown is the pet; to be fair, he has spent a significant time now in Mihawk's lap. ]

Mm. I believe that was your best performance yet. Hand me that rag, will you?

[ He means the leftover tatters of Buggy's undershirt. It had been one of the options he thought of when he'd given the command to clean him up - he's glad Buggy either hadn't considered it all or had decided against using it at the time. Now, though, he'll finish the job the tongue bath didn't quite get. ]

[the fingers in his hair are already melting him further over mihawk's lap, practically purring all over again, admiring the sheen over mihawk's skin in the strange light and absolutely basking in the positive attention. he's running one hand rather drunkenly over the curve of a pale hipbone when mihawk prompts him for the rag, and for a second it's clear in the way buggy looks at him that he has no idea what he's talking about. then--]

Oh. You mean my favorite shirt ever, that you ruined.

[repeat: he does not give a fuck about that shirt; it died for a worthy cause. buggy sends a hand groping across the deck to find it, not wanting to turn away from the erotic tableau of mihawk lounging like a panther with red lipstick all over his chest and stomach and cock. the moon, the candles, the shifting sea - it almost feels like some kind of ritual has taken place. very gothic, incredibly sexy. oh yeah, the critics love this one.

buggy nudges the shirt/rag into mihawk's hand, nuzzling his cheek against the older man's thigh like he's making himself comfortable. he is, but not for very long.]

Will you think about it?

[ For whatever reason, Mihawk tolerates what seems like a reverent touch over his skin. He puffs a breath, unrepentant. ]

It looked as if it were the only shirt you ever had. You can afford a new one.

[ Mihawk reluctantly lifts his head from his hand to accept the cloth, beginning to wipe off what he can see of the incriminating red lip prints at the top of his torso and working his way down. He'll have to do a more thorough job later, but this will do; the panther lazily grooming his coat clean. Ritual or not, they were definitely out here doing something unholy together.

As Buggy sets his cheek against his thigh, the older man brushes a few stray strands of blue from his face. Absently, his thumb finds the blue brow to trace, wondering if this too is makeup or if Buggy actually dyed the hairs. ]

Think about what?

Edited 2023-12-28 02:54 (UTC)

[he considers insisting that mihawk replace it, but decides not to push his luck without the swordsman having a better sense of humor. buggy wouldn't let anyone shy of his shadow rulers tear his clothes off of him without pitching a fit; with mihawk or crocodile, it's simply an acceptable loss on the road to greater riches. he's determined to get the hang of this cross guild thing, one way or the other.

an eyebrow lifts slowly under the light touch; the color, like many of his other distinguishing features, is real. buggy grins.]

About celebrating like this more often.

[about fucking me would have been the more direct answer, but buggy deliberately doesn't say it. he can't help wondering if mihawk actually would think about that if he didn't mention it, after tonight - and he refuses to beg twice without a good reason. not even when mihawk is lightly brushing the hair out of his face, making his skin tingle.

before the rag cleans too low, the clown tucks the swordsman's cock, still ringed with lipstick, back into his pants and closes them up.]

You know how to have a good time, Hawk Eyes.

[ Sense of humor or not, Mihawk did tear it. He had actually considered offering to replace it before rather stubbornly deciding it was a favor to rip it in the first place. Buggy might have been able to convince him.

But it seems those green eyes are set on a bigger prize. Mihawk's yellow pair narrow a bit at that grin, shrewd. Before he can answer, he's swallowing it with a surprised little grunt and sitting straighter in his seat as the clown proceeds to tuck him away, apparently still a little sensitive. The clown is lucky he didn't just get swatted with the cum rag.

Settling back in the next moment with a sigh, he draws both arms back to settle on those of the throne, considering the little emperor at his feet with a cock of his head. ]

I'm open to more being earned in the future. I think it's possible we can do better than even this victory.

[ But Mihawk feels this about just about everything he involves himself in. There is a reason he stands above others. God, it's good to have a project again... ]

[worth getting swatted with a cum rag to protect one of his finer artistic pieces to date, but evading consequence is even more exciting. when mihawk sits back, buggy finally does too, rocking back on his knees to pull his boxer-briefs back up his hips, tucking himself away as well. his grin widens.]

You and me both!

[they're gathering momentum, slowly but surely - maybe not even that slowly, considering. buggy can't wait to see how the news reports on the loss of the marine fort; with the cruise ship being taken and released so close by, there's no chance of the story not breaking across the new world. it's excruciating to have to bow and scrape and claw for every single victory, but given the alternative, he's willing to grin and bear it (so to speak).

gloves, costume, hat... accounted for. he'll collect himself shortly, and toss the rag into the bonfire on his way back to his ship.]

I guess we'll see what comes next, won't we?

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