You notice them the moment they make port.
No stranger to pirates limping their way into your seaside town’s little harbor, the sight of the emblazoned sails and a jolly roger barely make you do more than blink. Surely, the skull with flaming hair and a dagger was supposed to intimidate anyone who was unfortunate enough to see it. That, or the gaping maw of some massive fish-like creature that preceded the front of their ship. Your brow raises, wondering if it had once been a living being or if it was just made to look that way.
They’d had a rough time through Devil’s Reef. The razor-sharp coral and rock deposits that jutted up just off the island’s southernmost point was a danger to any sailor familiar with them, and downright near-fatal to those ignorant of their existence. The ocean’s current dragged any passing ship through their watery claws, damaging keels and hulls and bulkheads if one weren’t careful. And, that’s if you even made it out without being crushed or capsized by the unforgiving sea.
These pirates were spared the harshest fate at least, though not without scars. Judging by the way they disembarked from the gangplank and stood around the ship’s hull with shaking heads and animated conversation, they’d sustained some sort of damage, if the gesturing arms were anything to go by.
Just as you knew they would, the handful of crew soon decided that surely there must be someone in town who could provide them with the help they needed to bring their vessel back up to sea-faring condition. With a patient gaze, you watch as they speak with nearby locals, who all end up pointing the same direction.
You try not to let the amusement show through your eyes as they inevitably make their way to the front of your little wooden, ramshackle shack. Judging by the scowl on the redhead’s face as he steps up to speak—the captain, presumably—you weren’t entirely successful in doing so. Oh well.
“You’re Y/N?” Is his gruff and unkind question, arms of flesh and metal crossing over his uncovered chest. You contemplate the handsome sight in stride, filing away that fact for later. Neither do you miss his curious perusal of your uncovered tattoos. Which, in your curve-fitting tank top, reveals quite a number of them.
You take a moment before answering his question. “I am.”
“I’ve been told you can fix my ship.”
You look away from his stare briefly to gaze over the large vessel they’d docked at the port. Despite the distance, experience had taught you the difference between a ship with a few planks busted and one that was beyond salvage. This ship, you knew, still had life left in it to sail. How fortunate for them.
A smirk settles in place. “I could.”
The redhead went to speak, but the man beside him with his face hidden behind a striped blue and white helmet beat him to it. “How much are your services?”
“Expensive.” You admit freely, leaning comfortably against the wooden frame of your home. By all accounts, you fit the visible definition of ‘smug.’ His friend, you decide, is just as delicious as his redheaded companion. There’s no need to see his face to make that observation. The way he carries himself, the way he speaks, is evidence enough.
His helmet remains trained exactly on you. “How expensive are you talking?”
“Depends. What do you have?” You question without hesitation or remorse. This wasn’t the first time you’d dealt with men who believed themselves dangerous, so the flash of anger behind the captain’s eyes didn’t surprise you in the least. In fact, you would have been disappointed somehow if he hadn’t reacted at all.
He let out a curse and stepped forward aggressively, glare leveled plainly on you. “Name a damn price. A fair one. I don’t have time for con artists.”
One brow raised, unperturbed by the hostile stance. Wasn’t this one cute, thinking he could intimidate you? At least he was pretty. “You do know what this place is, right? Didn’t you read the sign at the port?” You point towards the dock where they’d come from.
A pirate with light blue hair and grayish complexion, until then having been silent, looked back the way you indicated, then shook his head with a sigh. “Swindler's Bay…”
Whatever the town had been named before the locals had adopted the new one, you hadn’t a clue. It had been decades since anyone bothered remembering. For as long as you’d been alive, the little port city had boasted its reputation openly and proudly. If one didn’t take it seriously, well, that was their own poor judgment.
“Mhmm. Not like we didn’t warn you…” You mutter with a slow shake of your own head. You oh-so-loved the exasperation as it settled in their faces. Poor things, if only they weren’t in the New World, then maybe someone would have taken pity on their plight.
But this was the New World, after all. No one who made it here didn’t deserve it.
“So?” You ply, shifting on your weight on your feet and crossing your own round arms over your ample chest. “What do you have to offer?”
“Tch.” The captain, unhappy with such an answer, turned his back to you with an uncaring dismissal of his hand, the dark-red feathered coat fluttering as he did. “To hell with your damn services, wench. I’ll find someone else.”
You watch in silence as the rest of his men follow in his wake. Another smile creeps up on your face, and you lift a thick, tattooed arm in farewell. “Good luck with that, boys!” If they can sense the pointlessness of their situation in the sounds of your laughter, they don’t show it.
It’s an entire 5 hours before they come back. All in all, you’re rather impressed they held out as long as they did. The island wasn’t that large. No doubt, the captain had stewed in his anger for a majority of that time before reluctantly agreeing to return.
A heavy, impatient knock at the door steals your attention. Not having expected anyone that day, you grin to yourself and lift out of your chair. Oh, this ought to be wonderful…
An angry redheaded pirate is the first thing you see when you open your shack door, glowering with resentment. Your idle musings in the past few hours had been correct. He looked just as fine a specimen pissed off as he did simply angry.
The hours of wandering and asking other residents where the nearest shipwright was had taken a toll on his patience. So much so that he didn’t bother with a greeting. “Name your price.”
“I hope you enjoyed the tour of the island.” You say, ignoring the way his eyes darkened even more as you stood there and disregarded his demand. “The wheat fields are especially beautiful this time of year-”
Something in his face snaps. “I’ve had enough of your-”
“Kid, don’t.” The masked man once again steps forward, laying a placating hand on his captain’s arm. It speaks to their bond that that alone is enough to get the man to back off, even if he isn’t entirely happy to do so. “She’s the only one who can fix the ship. We need her.”
“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.” He retorts bitterly, but you only laugh at the exchange.
“If you hadn’t gone stomping off in a huff, I could have told you I’m the only shipwright on the island. The next one is about 5 days sailing to the East, which…doesn’t really help you at the moment.”
They’re silent, loathe to admit that you hold the cards in this little exchange. Pirates…fools, the whole lot of them. All the same. Though, these ones were a bit more handsome than the ones you typically dealt with. That was a bonus.
You savor the moment, the smugness, and their only hope, before your professionalism begins to kick in. You had your fun. Now down to business.
“How much do you have?”
Kid, as you’d learned his name to be, wasn’t all too thrilled to reveal such a thing. But it seemed his helmeted companion could put his pride aside long enough to move this conversation along. “Around 40 million berry.”
“...that’s all?” You ask, then shake your head. “That won’t buy you a new sail around here, let alone enough boards to repair a hull.”
“How much would you need?”
“I’ve dealt with ships passing through the Devil’s Reef for longer than you’ve probably been pirates. On a ship like yours?” You bother to glance over their shoulders to see their ship still sitting at the port. “The currents drag the bow further down into the sea, often damaging the beakhead. You probably felt it drag along when it swung your stern, right?”
You continued. “Keels are known to be cracked or even sheered by those reefs. I don’t see you tilling to either side at the port, so that shouldn’t be the case. But starboard side panels on the hull are usually scraped to all hell if you’re spared the keel, so…best case scenario? You’re looking at at least 100 million, if I can source the right timbers for it. And that’s only if Old Gill down at the lumber mill is in a good mood.”
The pirates turn to look at their ship as you describe the possible damages. And, you must have sounded competent enough as you went, they didn’t even question how you could possibly know all this without even taking a closer look at their ship. Good. It spared you the extra waste of breath.
Silence settled as you finished, but you began again before they could ask any questions.
“I wasn’t kidding when I said my services were expensive. But luckily for you, I don’t just deal in berry.” They eye you intently, trying to figure out what exactly you were alluding to. You only smile slyly. “I can get started on work with a deposit of 35 million and I’ll figure out what else I want from you by the time you’re ready to set sail. I figure that’s a decent price, given you don’t have much choice, considering.”
Kid seemed to come to life again at the mention of a solid price. He faces you again with hard eyes. “20 million and you have a deal.”
“33.”
“27. If this place is full of cons, I need something to feed and house my crew with, at the least.” He retorts.
“Why not just sleep on the ship? I’m sure you have supplies left over too.”
“If it’s not seaworthy, I’m not risking more damage than it has.” There’s a hard edge to his voice when he speaks. “We’re beached until it’s done.”
Your brow raises at his logic, but the smile remains in place. At least he was a decent captain, you surmise. Given the circumstances, you figure this was the best you were going to get without him raising further upset.
Right hand lifted in a gesture to shake his own, you nod. “27, plus whatever else I think of before you set sail.”
The ambiguity of your second condition makes him pause, but he nonetheless takes it. Not like he had much choice. His grip is firm on yours as you agree on the amount, and you decide you like the strength of this Captain Kid. Your eyes never drift from his, and you wonder if he can see the curiosity and intrigue swirling behind them.
“I’ll begin work in the morning.” Then, you notice the darkening yellows and oranges of the impending sunset. “Until then, I suggest you find somewhere to sleep before too long. The innkeepers triple their prices after 8 pm.”
“Come to stare at me like a creep?” You ask without turning around, hammering the next board in place along the starboard side of the Victoria Punk. The presence had been there for a few minutes, and you’d waited that long to see if whoever it was would announce themselves, but thus far there’d been no clearing of a throat or shouting to get your attention. You figured it would waste less time if you just called them out.
“Just making sure you actually know what you’re doing with my ship.” The surly Captain replies, footsteps indicating he was approaching closer. “You don’t exactly look the part of a shipwright.”
“Is it my size or because I look like a woman?” You venture to guess, not bothering to hide the roll of your eyes as your voice drips with sarcasm. He wouldn’t be the first pirate to ask such a pigheaded question. And here you’d been thinking he was halfway decent for a pirate…
“Tch.” He even has the audacity to scoff at your assumption. “It’s the tattoos.”
Pausing your work, because he’d honestly surprised you with that admission, you spare him a curious glance. He stood a few feet from you, eyes locked on the hull of his ship, body language keeping a clear distance between the two of you.
Deciding you could take a break after a morning full of hard work, you set the boards down and swipe a wrist over your sweaty brow, turning to regard your visitor. “Lots of people have tattoos. I don’t see how that’s relevant.”
“Yours look significant…meaningful.” He admits, glancing briefly at your exposed skin and the ink that decorated it. “Like you did them yourself, or something.”
“I did.” You admit, pride showing through in the way you looked at your own handiwork. “A good friend taught me how.”
“Thought you’d be a tattoo artist, then.”
“There’s already a tattoo artist on the island, so it’s really nothing more than a side hobby.” You say with a shrug. And, upon seeing the confused look on his face, a wicked grin flashed in his direction. “We can’t really swindle people if there’s competition in the area, can we? One household per trade, that’s the way things are around here.”
You think you hear him mutter ‘bastards’ under his breath, but choose to ignore it.
“But yes, nearly all of my tattoos are my own. Took me years to finish them.”
“What about that one?” He asks, gesturing to your back. Clearly he’d seen part of the ornate design while you’d been working, between the fabric where your tank top didn’t cover. You wanted to smile at the thought that he’d been staring at your skin. “Couldn’t have done that one on yourself.”
“That good friend I mentioned’s handiwork. And my favorite, as it happens.” You say flippantly. “The last piece they did before they died.”
Your pirate visitor is silent after that, perhaps contemplative. Perhaps feeling awkward about the topic now that you’d thrown that tidbit in. You didn’t feel anything weird about it, and so you simply shrugged and turned back towards his ship.
“I should get back to work. Figured you’d want to leave as soon as you can, right?” Then, as an afterthought, you gave a chuckle. “And don’t forget. You still owe me for the work.”
“Have you figured out what you want from me yet?”
“Not quite. I’ll let you know when I decide.”
“Right.” He gruffs after a quick clearing of his throat. Then, before he steps away, he commands one final, “Quit slacking off and do what I paid you to do.”
“Of course, Captain.” Is your intoned reply, amused and ever-intrigued by the handsome and rough pirate. Oh, the possibilities…
With the starboard side hull almost fully repaired, the Victoria Punk was looking a lot less weathered and pitiful than it had after being battered by the reef. It was a beautiful vessel, you had to admit. Bringing her back to her former glory was as rewarding as the payment.
The next day, it’s the first mate who comes to see you. The one with the blue and white helmet, you couldn’t deny you’d been curious about him since he’d so easily calmed his captain’s rage. Killer, you learned his name to be. How fearsome and yet…clear-headed.
He stays longer than his captain did, though imposes less as he watches your progress on their ship. With barely a word, he sits on a stack of beams amongst your pile of supplies you’d brought to the ship, and simply observes as you work tirelessly to repair the damage.
Another shipwright, another person, might have felt stifled with an audience. But you reveled in displaying your skills and beauty. And, with a shapely body like yours, it was no wonder you took the opportunity to flaunt. Every shift jostled your body in just a way to draw attention to the parts of yourself you wanted him to gaze upon. In shorts and a tank top, there were plenty of wonderful places where his eyes might drift…
What could you say? These pirates intrigued you to no end. Already, you had the beginnings of an idea of what you’d ask for of them before they departed.
Behind the lecherous temptation you projected was a pride in your work. The way you lifted heavy wooden beams, showing off the well-maintained muscles hidden beneath the curves of your larger body, gave you no small amount of joy. The speed at which you could fit a board and secure it where it needed to be, able to do the job of several people on your own. With any luck, even his limited knowledge of ship repair would recognize what a feat that truly was.
Unfortunately, with that helmet in the way, it was so hard to know if he was actually paying attention. What a shame…and yet you tried nonetheless.
“You’re much quieter than your captain.” You blurt out after an hour or two of his presence. “Although, I don’t imagine that’s very hard, from the little I know about him.”
“That’s a fair assessment.” He admits, and you think you hear a quiet laugh behind the mask.
You offer a smile, snatching up a nearby bottle of water while you pause in your work for the meantime. You lounge in a pose that invites him to stare against the part of hull that had already been repaired. “Did he send you to make sure I wasn’t slacking off?”
“No. Just felt like watching you work.”
“And? Have I bored you yet?” Your curiosity was piqued now.
“Hardly.” He summarizes. “You’re extremely skilled. I’ve seen a whole team of shipwrights do less work than what you’ve managed in two days.”
It’s impossible to keep the smirk of pride off your face as you sip at your water. So he had noticed…that was nice. “I enjoy what I do.”
“Enjoying it doesn’t necessarily make you good at it. But I see your point.” He says, standing from his seat on the wood and walking closer. He touched the newly-applied board you’d just finished nailing in and gazed over the work done thus far.
He’s quietly contemplative, and you let him dwell in his own thoughts for a moment, before looking over the vessel yourself. “It’s a beautiful ship.”
“Victoria Punk.” Killer mutters, almost reverent. You could appreciate a man who appreciated his vessel. “It’s gotten us a long way. I’m glad this isn’t her final resting place.”
“Sounds like she means a lot to you. I’m glad the reef didn’t sink her.”
“There’s that…and I’m certain you’d figure out a way to charge us for decommissioning a ship somehow.”
The laugh that springs from your mouth is unexpected, but you can’t help it. His humor had surprised you, but damn if he wasn’t wrong. You’d done exactly that to pirates in the past.
“There are better places than Swindler’s Bay for a ship to die.” You agree, the laughter beginning to die down to low chuckles. “Much less costly ones, at the very least.”
It’s silent again for a long while, as he thinks and you think and your minds are adrift in several directions. You gaze upon the first mate with a new perspective. What a man, this Killer…
Shaken from his introspection somehow, he steps back and looks your way again. “I’ll let you work in peace.”
“You’re no bother. I don’t mind letting you watch.”
A low hum makes it past the mask. “...So I noticed.”
Your mouth opens, half from shock and half to retort something smart, but Killer’s already turned away and started walking back towards wherever his crew had lodged for the duration of their stay.
The expression of shock slowly morphs into a half-lidded interest, mouth upturned into a lecherous little smile. Oh, you liked these pirates indeed…how fortunate for you they washed up into your port like this.
You knew what you’d ask them for.
The repairs were complete, and the Victoria Punk looked like new where it sat moored in the port, bobbing along with the momentum of the sea.
With the starboard hull almost entirely replaced, and the finishing touches to the fearsome maw of the beakhead giving it new life, you gazed upon the results of your hard work with fondness. There was almost nothing quite like seeing a ship like this find its sea legs once more, strong enough to brave the New World sea that lay ahead.
It was there, standing along the dock, that Kid and Killer found you, gazing fondly upon their vessel.
“I’ll admit…” Kid said with an appraising eye, a grin threatening to lift the corner of his lip. “She looks good.”
“Of course she does.” You reply with a shrug, both out of pride of your craft and because the Victoria Punk had been beautiful to begin with. All it needed was some polish to the rough areas. “I’m a professional.”
“A damn expensive one at that.” He said with a low chuckle. Then, he turned to look at you. “You haven’t told me what it is you want as the rest of your payment.”
You regard him for a moment, eyes sweeping down and then back up his figure. He always was a sight to gaze upon, you think. “Not just gonna cut and run like most pirates do?”
“I keep to my agreements.”
“Honor. Hmm. So rare in pirates nowadays.” You mention, leaning back on one of the wooden railings that line the dock.
Ignoring your comment, Kid shakes his head and presses on. “Name your price, Y/N.”
Despite your attempt to remain neutral about it, you can’t help the slow smile that takes up your face as you think about your request. Fantasies and imaginations had been plaguing you all evening and even into your dreams. You only hoped they’d be willing to make them reality.
“My price…” Eyes glancing between the captain and his first mate, your head cocks to the side. “...is sex.”
Killer’s mask swivels to peer directly at you, silent. Kid, to his credit, doesn’t seem surprised at all. Perhaps you were just that obvious, or he thought highly of himself. If you had to guess, maybe a mix of both. His eyes narrow only slightly, appraising your body with an obvious and slow perusal upwards. They linger between your thighs and around your wide waist. Was he imagining gripping there as he slammed you down onto his hard cock? If he wasn’t, you certainly were…
“And not just any sex.” You go on, using the opportunity to spell out all your terms while you can. “I’m talking the ‘can’t walk in the morning,’ ‘a night I’ll never forget,’ ‘ruin me for anyone else who comes after’ kind.”
“What a brazen minx you are…” Kid steps forward with what you can only describe as a purr at the back of his throat, a wolfish grin now firmly in place. “If that’s all you want…I can give it in spades, Y/N.”
Chin lifting to meet his sultry gaze with your own, you mumble a reply. “Not just from you. Your friend here, too. My price is a threesome that leaves me a drooling mess, and you can sail away from here with your debt to me cleared.”
Killer makes a noise you don’t know how to interpret, and Kid swings to look at him. While you can’t see his expression or that of his masked friend’s either, you stay quiet as they ponder the terms of your proposal.
Truthfully, you don’t know what you’d do if they refused. It’s not like you could force them to fuck you senseless. They had all the power to steal away with their ship in the middle of the night without so much as entertaining your demand and you wouldn’t be able to really do anything to stop them. Sure, there was security at the port, but you suspected that any fight they put up would be crushed in the face of these ruthless pirates.
But, looking back at the handful of visits you’d received from both Kid and Killer during the course of the repairs, all bearing a flirtatious undertone you couldn’t deny, something in you knew he wouldn’t turn your offer down.
At least…you thought. You hoped.
Whatever unspoken exchange had occurred between the crewmates had apparently ended, because Kid swung his gaze back to your own with an intensity that had you nearly trembling. Oh…
“Tell me Y/N…” Kid reached up and gently grasped your jaw between the fingers of his hand of flesh, just as Killer stepped closer to the both of you. “Which one of us should paint that tattoo on your back white?”
You thought you’d learned long ago, that dreams were nothing like reality. Usually, that was meant in a bad way. Disappointment and longing for something wonderful that could never really be obtained in life, and imaginations of a mind without limitations.
But as you welcomed the naked girth of Killer’s cock in your mouth—your spit wetting the skin of his shaft and dripping down your chin in thin streams as the head pressed against the back of your throat—while Kid’s length sank itself deep into your awaiting heat, you thought that for once, your daydreams paled in comparison to the real deal.
For one, you were used to be a bit bigger than most of the men who came stumbling and grumbling to your shack. But Kid and Killer were beasts of men, large and wide and built. You felt dwarfed between them, that thought alone sending a sharp thrill up your spine.
“You said you wanna be fucked, wench, so I’m not gonna hold back.” Kid promises in a breathless mutter. Even with one hand, his strength is enough to yank you back into each of his sharp thrusts. The fiend of a pirate doesn’t build up slow, just sets a pace he prefers and groans his pleasure behind you. “Be as loud as you want to…”
Each one hits so deep inside, your toes curl amidst the comforter on your bed. On your knees, your nose buried in the dark blonde curls of Killer’s pubic hair, you can’t see the captain’s expression. But hell, if the noises he was making were anything to go by, he must have been immensely enjoying himself. You’d kill to see how he looked turned on and fucking you…
Killer’s a bit less eager to be so rough so early, but he makes an effort to use your mouth for his own desire. That insistent hand at the back of your head nearly has you choking as his tip pushes harder at the back of your throat. You gag, only for a moment, and he pulls back just a bit.
“If only you could see the way you look on your knees.” The blonde mutters in a surprisingly adoring tone. “Gorgeous, Y/N, fuck…”
Your eyes track upwards to stare at his face—you’d been floored to see him without the helmet earlier, but no matter how long you look at him it would never not shock you—and you put further effort into sucking his cock like he deserves. The stuttered curse that leaves his lips as he throws his head back is music to your ears.
Between a captain so intent on wrecking you, and his sweet first mate caving to his carnal pleasures, you can barely think straight. You’d gotten what you’d asked for. By god, you had. And now all you could do was kneel there and take what they gave you.
Eager to please, your knees spread further on the bed beneath you, allowing Kid that inch or so deeper into your cunt. He growls his approval, the grip on your waist already bruising giving a little squeeze.
“Fuck, you’re something else…so wet around me, and just begging me to go deeper, aren’t you?” Kid’s mouth spills his dirty words, making you moan around the cock in yours. Killer breathes out at the vibrations of your voice, more of his restraint slipping away. “Hell, I would have fucked you even if you hadn’t made it part of the deal, wench…”
“Do that again, Y/N.” Killer demands in a husky voice, staring down at you with heat. And without any further encouragement needed, you oblige, earning a guttural noise from the back of his throat as he stares at you in awe, struck by the way you moaned around his length. “F-fucking shit…you’re good at that.”
Whatever response you try to muster is lost against the tip of his cock.
The pleasure is too much. The last of Killer’s restraint wanes and finally ebbs entirely. Kid’s hard thrusts encourage you to take him faster and with more vigor, and soon enough Killer’s buried both of his hands in your brown hair, pulling you into his own thrusting hips with little regard to if you can take him fully or not.
They use you, little more than a wet hole to seek their own release, and you’re swimming in a haze of your own lust. The pathetic little noises that get trapped around Killer’s shaft is all the reciprocation you can provide, thoughts funneling to how fucking good it felt to be between them. They’re rough and dirty and barely give you time to adjust to the new angle when they shift their hips. You’re dragged along with them on this sweaty, steamy, deliriously sexy ride and you discover you’re in no rush to get off.
So you take it, Kid’s thick cock claiming your cunt as his with every grunt and curse under his breath, and Killer’s doing the same to your mouth, praising how good you feel amidst his own keening noises. With the reflexive tears in your eyes, you can hardly see in the blur, and keeping balance with the force of both men’s hips as you kneel on the bed is getting harder by the minute, but this night would be burned in your mind forever.
You got all that you asked for. Even if you hadn’t asked for the 27 million berry, receiving these two cocks was more than enough for the days of work you had undertaken for their ship.
…would one night be enough? Fuck, you were a goner. Completely and totally a sucker, a goner. Watching them sail away later would break something inside of you, you think.
You’re certain you’ve reached climax at least once during this whole ordeal, though through the intensity you’re not certain. But as their speeds increase, their own releases drawing near and the curses spilling from their lips coming with increasing frequency, you too can feel that peak approaching ever nearer.
Killer is the first to reach it, his hand shoving your head all the way against his pelvis to bury his shaft to the hilt. Hot seed coats the back of your throat, and while you can’t help but gag once, you manage to take everything he pumps into you without complaint. You feel him shudder out a moan as the sensation of you swallowing it presses your mouth against his tip.
You’re not long behind him, eyes rolling back and you quake and tremble as the liquid pleasure consumes your every nerve, rolling down your spine to your toes and up through your shoulders live a wave. You choke out your euphoria, Killer’s cock still shoved into your mouth. Feeling the first mate softly pet your hair as you rock through the sensations has you fluttering your eyes shut in contentment.
Kid lasts another dozen thrusts, all faster than the last, rushing to meet that edge with a fury you’d never experienced before. And just as you think your overstimulation would be too much, he yanks himself out of your cunt and pulls your ass back against his hips, cock nestled between your cheeks and throbbing with each spurt of cum that coats the Oni tattoo inked to your skin.
The design was your pride and joy, but something about Kid leaving his mark on it did something to you that was difficult to explain. It was fucking hot, whatever it was…
The room is suddenly still, only your labored, panting breaths filling the space. Killer slowly extracts himself from your mouth, his cock beginning to soften and hang naturally. Your body feels electrified and raw, sticky and sweaty and your limbs like jelly as you kneel there between them. Your wrists are sore from planting them upon the bed, your legs tingling from numbness after so little activity.
Holy fuck…you were well and truly fucked.
Kid lets go of the skin of your waist, and you fall limp between them on the bed. It’s all you can manage at this point, needing time to recover from…all of that.
As the lust cools, the embers of heat dying and life shifting back to normal, an unfamiliar ache in your heart begins to settle. Trepidation. Sadness. That this would be the only time you’d experience something so beautiful…your heart broke for yourself. The world would feel so different after they left…
What you don’t expect is Kid’s dark chuckle to break the silence.
“Hey, Y/N. I’ve got an offer for you.”
You shift your head to peer his direction, brown hair sticking to your forehead in strands as you try gaining your breath back. “Oh yeah?”
“Join my crew, and you’ll get more than just one night with us.” His lecherous smile is laden with cunning that makes you shiver. With anticipation or fear, you can’t be certain. “I can see it in your face. You want more. Once isn’t enough, is it? Perverted wench, you’re drunk on cock and only ours will satisfy, huh?”
You’re silent, because your pride doesn’t allow an answer to such a lewd question. But the hope that blossoms in your chest and you assume in your expression is all the answer he needs. Kid leans over and grabs your jaw again, tilting your chin to face him directly.
“I’m willing to let you aboard my ship and sail the seas with us…but it’ll cost you.”
Your eyes flicker between his, intrigued. “What are you asking for?”
“What do you have?”
Amusement darkens your gaze and widens your smile, a coy little tilt of your head following. “27 million berry, and my permanent services as a shipwright.”
“Tempting.” He mutters, pretending to think it over for just a moment. “I think I’ll accept that for now. As for the rest of your payment, I’m sure I’ll think of something before we reach the next island. What do you think, Killer?”
“We’ll get creative.” He promises, gazing down at you with thick emotion you can’t name.
Kid nudges you to look at him again. “Deal?”
Some part of you wonders if this sort of decision one should ruminate upon, ponder, and analyze for some determined amount of time. Such a decision, to uproot the life you’d known since you were born, surely couldn’t come so easily. So then why, you think, was it so simple to say…
“Deal.”
ns 15.158.61.54da2
