Nights aboard the Moby Dick--when the crew wasn't up late drinking and partying--were peaceful. Out on the open sea, the wind in your hair...there was nothing like it, truly. You close your eyes and breathe deeply, content with the smell of salt that always hung heavy in the air.
Your favorite nights were when the moon was at its fullest, casting pale light over the choppy sea waves, where you got to watch them ripple and pool all around you. You could stare out at them for hours, never growing bored of the sight and sound of the waves. It was a big reason you offered to take watch so often, a fact Whitebeard found infinitely amusing.
The idea that the Whitebeard Pirates needed to keep a nightly watch at all sounded absurd. There were few out there who would even consider attacking a man of Pops' caliber, especially knowing just how many powerful division commanders and subordinates under them there were onboard his ship at any given time. Anything short of an army was a bug to be crushed underfoot.
Still, Pops never turned you down when you requested to keep watch, at least for awhile, each night. As he'd say, everyone was a child of the sea, and you simply heard the call of its waves stronger than any other of his children.
Atop the crow's nest, you lean against the railing. The night air was cool, a far cry from the temperate heat you'd all experienced during the day time. The breeze chills you, and you shiver a moment before resuming your watch.
You hear a familiar noise above the woosh of the waves below. The flapping of bird wings, and the crackle of fire. You smile, wondering why Marco was up so late. Hadn't he gone to bed? He'd been doing monthly check-ups with the crew today, and had been rather busy. You suspected he was tired.
The phoenix circles the air in front of your post on the crow's nest, soaring high and around until he lands on the railing beside you with taloned feet. You feel the warmth from his wings as he flaps himself steady, a moment later disappearing to take his fully human form once more. He balances well on the railing.
"Y/N." He greets with a typical smile. "Keeping watch again, I see?"
"Mhmm."
"How's it looking?" He hops down easily, letting out a sigh as he straightens.
You give another cursory glance around, if only to be certain. "Clear in all directions. Nothing but us and the sea tonight."
"As expected, yoi. You don't really think anyone will attack us, do you?" He says with a chuckle, shifting to stand beside you against the railing. His back to the sea, he looks at you patiently. "I mean, it's Pops we're talking about."
"I know."
"No need to lose sleep over it, then. I think we can afford to slack off justthis once." He remarks, reaching out to brush his fingers on your cheek.
You lean into his touch, having missed it all day long. You hadn't wanted to distract him from his duties. "I don't mind it. Watching the sea relaxes me. A nice view before bed."
"A nice view, huh?" Marco mutters, amused all of a sudden, and you glance at him. You know that tone of voice, all too well. You practically hear him purr. "There's a certain view I'd hope to see before I shut my eyes for the night..."
"Really?" You ask, humoring him. "And what might that be?"
"Hmm, let's see..." He pretends to think for a moment, his fingers drifting down from your cheek to your jaw and then lower along your neck. "My lover, relaxed and content, right beside me. Hair tussled and free, eyes full of the care and kindness I love so much..."
"That does sound rather nice." Your eyes close as his voice grows quieter, his fingers still trailing down until he reaches the collar of your shirt, giving it a gentle tug.
"Or, even better, writhing underneath me as we make passionate love under the moonlight that comes through the window." He leans down until he's whispering directly next to your ear, giving you a shiver that has nothing to do with the cool breeze. "It's a stunning sight...what a shame you can't see it from my perspective, yoi. Always the best part of my day..."
You're smiling, you can feel it. His words leave you tingling and your mind wanders. He's painted a delightful picture for your subconscious to pick apart and imagine. You look off along the waters below, savoring your imagination a little longer, before glancing at him from the corner of your eyes.
"You have had a long day, haven't you?"
He gives a shrug. "Updating the crew's records always takes a while. A little rest and relaxation is definitely in order."
"Perhaps we should go to bed then." You say, glancing down at his lips. "You make all of that sound so delightful."
"Oh, it is indeed." He chuckles, gaze caught on your face. With a step back, his arms transform into the warm, blue flames of his phoenix form. You're quick to wrap your arms around his neck, preparing for him to take off. "Shall we take the fast way down?"
"That's probably for the best. Wouldn't want you to miss that view."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The ship is quiet. Peaceful. The crew has retired to sleep for the night, restful and comfortable in their beds. But breathless, low gasps of pleasure emanate from within Marco's room, late into the night. You try your best to muffle them, but your lover's attentive fingers make it difficult to keep up.
You shiver, thighs quaking, the shocks of pleasure shooting through them as he swirls careful circles over your slit. He's patient, slow. You aren't sure whether you want to beg for something more or take it at the pace he's chosen. Either one is a pleasure. But since you can barely form words to speak, you elect to leave him to his desires and pleasure you however he wants.
"If only you could see yourself, Y/N..." He murmurs into your ear, groaning when you bite your lip. "You'd understand...why I can't take my eye off you."
"Marco..." You groan low.
"I'll take care of you, love." He promises, lowering his lips to yours to lead you in a slow, passionate kiss.
His fingers switch from their easy swirling of your core to easing their way into your entrance. You moan into his mouth, lifting your hips to take his fingers deeper. But he never quickens, never rushes. He takes his time to savor your every response.
You're overwhelmed by a mix of pleasure and the overflowing love in the way Marco holds you, tastes you, breathes you in. You feel the twitch of his cock on your thigh, but he makes no move to do anything about it. Yet.
The build-up is slow, but definitive. His fingers inside of you reach a spot that has your hips lifting and bucking as much as he allows. You're whimpering, begging without words to let the orgasm crash over.
"Just a little more, beautiful..." He murmurs against your lips, lowering his forehead onto yours to get a good look at your expression. You must look a mess, panting and desperate to cum by now. But he drinks it up with eyes full of lust.
He holds you at the precipice of ecstasy for as long as he can, before a precise pinch of your clit has you gasping and writhing beneath his hold. It's far more intense than you'd expected. You gaze up at Marco, stars at the corner of your vision, your hearing muffled. You think he speaks something to you, but you can't hear the words.
And then he's shifting, his fingers disappearing from your core to be replaced with the head of his cock. You're still feeling the waves of your first orgasm as he enters you.
"Squeezing me already..." He groans in pleasure, one hand caressing your cheek. The tenderness nearly brings tears to your eyes. "You feel so good, Y/N."
"Please!" You manage to beg, hoping he understood what you wanted. You were beyond much higher brain function than that.
His hips push into you with slow, measured thrusts. He's careful not to overwhelm you in the aftermath of your first orgasm. You'll never know how he does it, catching the last vestiges of your first and using it to bring you halfway to the second without overstimulating you, but it's a skill that never goes unappreciated.
You pull him closer, lifting your hips to meet his every time he snaps his forward. You don't know if it's your movements or the breathless panting right beside his ear that causes it, but he shudders and lets out a needy moan. His pace quickens, if just a little.
The warmth that had settled in your belly grows hotter and begins to rise up the back of your spine. You want more. Need more. You so wish to feel him cum deep inside of you. You want him to find such pleasure from your body, from the way you call out his name into the dimness of his room.
Marco shifts, just enough to gain him a little more leverage, before he's chasing his orgasm with determination. You cover your mouth to muffle the unabashed moans that threaten to escape it, and he kisses the back of your hand lovingly.
Just a little more. Your toes curl in preparation, heels digging into his back. And when you reach that threshold again, your back arches off the bed.
Marco swears under his breath, pushing himself those last few seconds before he too succumbs to the pleasure. He buries himself as deep as he can go, rutting hard as your walls squeeze everything they can get from him. It's warm. It's hot. It's so satisfying you couldn't put words together to say so.
Marco snatches kisses from your lips--soft and sweet--as you both come down from your orgasm. His arms hold you tenderly, keeping you close despite your skin being a little sweaty. He doesn't seem to mind in the least.
When the feelings of lust fade, you're left with a fatigue, and the desire to sleep. He seems to notice, because after he pulls out and helps you clean up the mess between your thighs, he slips you both under the covers to lay together.
You're moments from sleep when you hear his loving whisper. "Best view on the seas..."
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