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Stone. A steady rock, indifferent to the sea of quicksilver around him.
That’s what Fleet Admiral Sakazuki aspires to be. There are currents that pull at the Navy, that try to erode it and fragment it from the inside. He will not allow them to succeed.
He's sitting on his bed now, leaning back on hard feathered pillows. Naked down to his underwear, the petals and black flames his second skin. A timid trickle of moonlight caresses the sheets and the floor. The working desk in his room has seen the last of use for tonight, but still, he can’t find peace.
Pressure is all the more damning when it comes from above. Sakazuki grits his teeth at the thought of Rob Lucci, coming to Headquarters only to make demands, to taunt and belittle him. His ships are still docked at the port of New Marineford like bothersome fleas nibbling on a mastin: they add insult to injury in an already stressful situation, where he's caught juggling the needs of his Navy and those of the Government with wild cards such as Issho among his own men.
It doesn't matter. Why is he even awake and thinking? What's he waiting for?
Hell—what use is it to fool himself? He's waiting for Borsalino. Hoping that, once again, he knows what Sakazuki needs better than himself. His fucking base desires are the worst, most unavoidable distraction. They're displaced, he's sure, but perhaps Borsalino will have sensed this shift and will pay him a visit. Perhaps he will dash through the darkness to shed his light on Sakazuki's skin, to tickle his ear with feather-thin words.
Whether his way with Sakazuki is borne of intuition or experience with hundreds of other lovers, he doesn't want to know. But his urges are catching up with him after neglecting himself for too long, and Sakazuki only seldom allows himself to yearn.
Perhaps it’s not obvious to anybody but himself. Perhaps he’s delirious. In this sorry state, he could well believe it.
The next moment, he hears a tentative, soft rattle on his door. He hates being right. (In retrospect, that’s the first sign that something is different that night; Borsalino never knocks.)
“Come in,” Sakazuki says, and senses the tall, broad figure stepping inside in the dark. The bright sliver of moonlight creeps on the floor all the way to Borsalino’s shoes. Gilded buttons glint like his eyes: a gleeful, malicious thing.
Sakazuki shuts his own eyes tight. Wraps his Observer’s Haki around that golden aura, breathing it in, taking it upon himself.
Something inside him turns cold.
Borsalino is not alone.
Sakazuki sits up, not quite flinching forward despite the alarm rippling under his skin. He closes his fist, the muscles of his arms hardening.
“What is this,” he growls.
“Sakazuki,” Borsalino says, as casual as if he were talking over a cup of tea, and makes an elegant step forward, “it’s a shame you have to be so lo-onely, isn’t it…? I brought us some company…”
There, in the dark, Sakazuki finds himself gritting his teeth at Rob Lucci.
The drum in Sakazuki’s chest pounds angrily when his features sharpen in the shadows: the arched eyebrows, the petulant, pressed line of his lips. At least he’s got enough decency to have left his ridiculous pet pigeon behind.
It’s almost unbelievable, so bold that Sakazuki can’t even find words for it. Inviting him. Him. To this, between them, this space that no one else has the right to know, let alone tread. Usurping him of what little dignity he has in Lucci's eyes.
(Borsalino knows him. Knows him too well. Even the things he'd never allow himself to think, not consciously. That Lucci— that brat, that entitled little bastard— has managed to claw his way into Sakazuki’s bed long ago, if only in his deepest fantasies.)
There are no words for this, but he can try.
“Are you out of your damned mind?”
Borsalino casts light on Lucci’s side, a faint ochre glow delineating the shapes of his cheekbones and chin. His unblinking stare locks with Sakazuki’s, and Borsalino props him closer with a gentle hand on his back.
“Show yourself to your Fleet Admiral, Lucci,” he whispers, his glowing fingers playing with the shadow as they draw a tress of hair over Lucci's ear, “Plea-ase…?”
“You have a bad memory,” Lucci says. And Sakazuki is taken aback to see that he obeys, that he starts matter-of-factly unbuttoning his black shirt. “Akainu is your boss. Not mine.”
Lucci has spat his old alias like a fishbone, but Sakazuki doesn’t let it get to him. Anything that comes out of that mouth is poison. It’s not lost on him that Lucci’s steely integrity is a dark mirror of his own, that he’d be attracted to that willpower if it weren’t in the service of all that is corrupt and rotten in the system they serve.
He breaks visual contact, addresses Borsalino instead, lest he get enthralled.
“You’re bold to let him see us like this,” he says. “To let him talk to me here. Thought you’d be smarter than to willingly let a secret agent in your bed,” a scoff, “I guess not.”
All the while, Borsalino has been fondling Lucci’s hair. The way his fingers intertwine with the black locks makes something bubble deep inside Sakazuki. Then, Borsalino’s hands trace two paths down Lucci's shoulders, and with a pull, he peels the black shirt from Lucci's chest. The muscles underneath are lean, hard.
“O-oh… who knows… are you here on business, Lucci?” Borsalino tilts his head, and Lucci looks up at him, “Ah well… if you are, better make the best of it, isn’t it so…?”
To Sakazuki’s surprise, a smile gashes through Lucci’s moonlit face.
“Yes, Kizaru. Better do.”
“Shut that mouth,” Sakazuki’s fingers tighten on the sheets, “or I will make you.”
“Oh… don’t start arguing,” Borsalino says, frowning, “You are both so quick to anger. I think the powers that be… would find it good if you got, ah… a bit closer…”
Sakazuki focuses on him and only him. Not on the way he's stroking the hard lines of Lucci’s chest, orderly and symmetrical like the angular tattoos on his forearms. Damn Borsalino can't keep his hands off that brat for one second. But he's so tall, he’d have to lean forward to kiss him, to draw his lips and tongue across his body—
Shit. The thought has assaulted him. It has him.
“He’s considering,” Lucci says.
“Be nice and don’t provoke the Fleet Admiral… he can be a ve-ery scary man…” Borsalino’s sentence fades to silence when he presses his palm onto Lucci's chest, onto the small circle of his nipple, and breathes longer for a second. “Now… before we get, ah… distracted… would you please tell him you'll stay silent about this, boy?”
“Of course,” Lucci's eyes hardly flicker. “It’s our deal.”
Sakazuki feels his cock stir at the exchange. He’s already half-hard from the anticipation of Borsalino’s presence, and from seeing them touch. It gets worse when Borsalino runs his free palm down the younger man’s abdomen, gently sliding under the waist of his pants, and smiles sheepishly at whatever he feels there.
It is tugging at Sakazuki’s reigns. A need to participate, to dominate, rises over the turmoil and washes over him like a strong wave. Something he didn't know was in him, but pushes all his buttons. Any justification or negotiation with himself falls to the background.
Perhaps Lucci notices, because he's still glaring, and Sakazuki can't peel his eyes away either.
“Do you need me to be clearer?” Lucci asks.
Once again, Sakazuki addresses Borsalino only.
“You’re letting too much slide. Punish him.”
On command, Borsalino seizes the little brat and twists his arm gently, pushing him toward the desk. Lucci's compliance has Sakazuki's pulse rising. Borsalino lays Lucci's face onto the wooden surface, smiles back at Sakazuki and caresses the side of the smaller body as if to demonstrate.
"Mmm. Did you hear that, Lucci…? I should be harder with yo-ou," Borsalino grins. He stands tall and genial as he slips the belt off Lucci's waist, the rest of clothes spilling into a puddle of black fabric on the floor. At the sight of Lucci's trained thighs against Borsalino's pinstripe, Sakazuki realizes he hasn't been breathing.
He cups himself over his underwear. The sight is finishing what Lucci's compliance started, swelling him to his full size.
"Luckily for you, he doesn't, ah… know you that well," Borsalino continues mock humbly, "…he doesn't know that's what you want…"
"That Navy dog is sending you to do his dirty job, as usual," comes Lucci's reply. Borsalino hums. Grabs the belt, flattens a loop out of it. Cracks it against the muscles of Lucci's thighs.
"Oh… when you say it like that, it sounds insulting," Borsalino muses, no rush to his words of gestures, "kitten…"
Another crack against the hard flesh. Lucci stays silent. Sakazuki carefully shifts forward to sit at the edge of his bed and gain a better angle. He tries to ignore his erection stirring. Lucci's back is scarred with what looks like the Government's flag, springing Sakazuki's own tattoo to mind, his own black fire forever etched onto his skin as a reminder of his conviction. He is fascinated.
More cracks of leather on skin tear through the silence. Lucci’s ass bounces back on Borsalino's thighs. The Admiral leans forward to compensate for their height difference, planting a hand on the desk while casting light on his cheeks with the other. No signs of reddening or swelling.
"Like iron," Borsalino chuckles. He smacks down on Lucci, an acid flash of light in the dark that has Sakazuki squinting.
"Mmm. Kizaru," the deep voice sounds throaty. Then there's another slap: harder, the flash brighter, a stab of light. A formless, soft groan slips from Lucci’s mouth, a sound like Sakazuki has never heard from him before. At the next smack, his naked body twists.
Now Borsalino has seized Lucci's hands at his back and allowed him to straighten up, bringing him to Sakazuki like a prisoner caught.
"More," Lucci says. A demand, a threat.
"My, my, can I even keep up with you…?," Borsalino's eyes fall on Sakazuki’s lap, where he's leaking under his underwear, "There… why don't you put your bold mouth to use…?"
Sakazuki swallows, his mouth suddenly too dry. He watches as Borsalino pushes Lucci to his fours, has him slithering toward Sakazuki like a feline. Satisfied, Borsalino vanishes to sprawl on the reading seat, next to the bed— but Sakazuki sees that only from the periphery of his vision.
Under the full moonlight coming in through the window, the look in Lucci's eyes is razor-sharp, the pupils dilated like a cat hunting. The spasm of lust is so sudden it threatens to tumble him.
"Is this what you want?" he says through gritted teeth. In the corner of his eye, Borsalino has lit up a cigarette— the smell of vice. Lucci wordlessly hooks his finger on the elastic band of Sakazuki’s underwear and peels it away. His tongue traces from the root to the shaft of Sakazuki’s cock in one, clean lick, causing Sakazuki to flinch forward, "Fucking hell—"
Another lick and he's dripping on Lucci's tongue. Lucci laps him up greedily, still working spit from the top to the bottom. Both his hands are working. He is sucking Sakazuki off the same way he kills: methodical, precise. He'd say emotionless if it weren't for that intensity, that bloodlust in his dark eyes.
Pausing, Lucci jerks his face up. He wipes Sakazuki's cock against the skin of his chest.
"You wanted to see me like this, didn't you," he says, squeezing him hard like the enemy he is. "Say it."
No, Sakazuki is about to answer, but the tip of Lucci's tongue tracing a circle around his shaft leaves him breathless.
He palms Lucci's head, tugs at the roots of his silken hair. He cannot for the life of him figure out what to do with this insane young man kneeling before him. So he throws his head back, breathes, and takes .
The sensation is unbearable. It sweeps all other thoughts away, all other feelings. There's only that tongue and— his lips, cool against Sakazuki’s heat, wrapping around the swollen shaft. Sakazuki feels himself pulsate inside Lucci’s mouth. The cool, smaller body wiggles between his legs. He's muscled and toned like any warrior should be, but small near Sakazuki's bulk. At once, Sakazuki knows. He's having trouble taking him inside.
"He's so cu-ute, isn't he…?"
Sakazuki drags his look towards Borsalino, comfortably sprawled on the reading armchair. His lips are curled at the corners, a gentle, indulgent smile. Sakazuki only breathes.
Lucci stops. He presses his cool palms on Sakazuki’s knees to straighten up. Wipes his mouth with the back of a hand, leaving precum and spit glistening on the pink, swollen head. Sakazuki is horny enough that he doesn't want to wait, and starts stroking himself instead. Under his underwear, Lucci is pretty damn hard too. The outline of his hard-on is lean, appealing, like him.
He hasn't touched himself yet, though. A will of iron.
With a look, Lucci is calling Borsalino. Expecting him.
One flash and the other one's obliging. He leans forward to kiss Lucci, and at once, they both show their hunger. Hips rolling against each other, bodies pressed. Sakazuki isn't sure you can feign that. It pisses him off.
Lucci is prepared to fall back and sit on Sakazuki’s lap, his fingers already halfway up the golden pinstripe. But Sakazuki taps at his waist.
"You," he grunts, holding his own cock, "You're not done here."
Borsalino chuckles, holding the sides of Lucci's face to coo at him.
"Ah, what's wro-ong, kitten…? Haven't you been up to par…?"
"Performance trouble," Lucci states without sparing a look over his shoulder, "Not uncommon in men his age. Or yours."
"Yes, yes…" Borsalino waves the mockery away and guides Lucci to turn around. "You can do better, can't you…?"
Lucci’s eyes flicker up and down Sakazuki. Unreadable.
And, all of a sudden, there's a joint attack on him. Borsalino's lips are closing on Sakazuki’s, his kisses always playful. And Lucci is wrapping his own mouth around Sakazuki with double the energy, letting the length of his cock slide midway inside him. Two pairs of lips on him, on his body— unthinkable. His arousal is rising in waves, running through him like a current.
Borsalino kisses a trail down the muscle of his neck now. Down to his chest, sliding over a nipple. A gentle bite draws a breath from him. Cupping his biceps, Borsalino guides Sakazuki’s free hand over the fine fabric of his pants, and grinds into it. At once, that's more dizzying than anything else happening, than the movement of Lucci's head down below.
No, he won't lose control. He feels so damned naked this way . He presses his hand down on the mattress for balance, looking down at Lucci instead. His hair obscures part of his face. Fucking annoying long hair. Sakazuki slides a palm on Lucci's forehead to tuck it aside and thrusts forward with his hips. Lucci stirs in silent surprise at the pressure, the sheer size of it.
Sakazuki slides out and leaves Lucci space to breathe. His shaft dragging obscenely against the other man's lower lip, his beard slick with saliva and precum.
“Ah, Sakazuki, don’t be shy… he can take a lot… ,” Borsalino mutters, successfully distracted, and at once he’s beaming on Lucci's face and gently guiding him to bob his head up and down. The gag reflex puts a slight resistance before his throat tightens about Sakazuki’s cock.
Lucci's throat muscles around the top are a contrast to the plush, wet tongue sliding down the base. Sakazuki grimaces. Smiling, droopy eyes are mocking him.
He slides in and out feebly, no more than an inch. Needs to be careful. Lucci's eyes meet his— a heavy breath goes through his nose. He props himself up on his knees, lifting his thighs slightly.
Pleased at the sight, Borsalino loosens his grasp of Lucci's hair. Stands up. As Sakazuki starts rocking again in a calm, discrete rhythm, Borsalino is undressing in the background; without any rush, hanging his jacket on the armchair, picking up something. Metal rattles in the dark. The clink of handcuffs.
Lucci retreats, lets Sakazuki slide out. Even in this situation, he still looks so petulant.
"I wager I'm fitter than your Marines."
Sakazuki's hand, firm at the side of Lucci's face, flares hot, and Lucci lets his thumb in, blunt between the teeth. He doesn't wince at the heat. Behind him, Borsalino crouches to his knees, smiling, flicking the ash from a cigarette in a lazy gesture. He blows the smoke on Lucci's face.
"Mmm. Now, now… You're not an agent now. You're our toy kitten," his sunglasses flare under his own light as he focuses on Lucci and raises the handcuffs, hanging from a finger, "And I… don't want to see you bite, you see…?"
Sakazuki examines both of them. Borsalino, not even half undressed; and Lucci on his knees, his mouth wet and red. It's obvious who belongs where. And still the brat acts like he's in charge.
Lucci leans forward, perks his thighs a bit higher from the floor so that Borsalino can take a look at his ass. That obedience must not have been easy to attain if it's real, but Borsalino's slow words can be persuasive. Borsalino has shifted and found a spot behind Lucci, where the younger man's asscheeks will bounce against his groin if he starts bobbing on Sakazuki again.
And damn, he does. He's been going on his knees for a while now, and is unfazed. Nothing is enough for him. Sakazuki's orgasm is builds, bubbles inside him.
"Here… look at this," Borsalino mutters to himself. He searches in his breast pocket with a finger for his little bottle of lubricant. Then his hand sinks under Lucci, and at once, the bound body tenses up.
Around Sakazuki, Lucci lets out a soft, "Kizaru."
"Fucking brat," Sakazuki shuts his eyes, enjoys the friction as he pumps himself inside and out. A grunt escapes his lips. Of power, of pleasure. He feels Lucci's cool shoulders weighing on his thighs and around his waist, getting leverage to fuck his own mouth on Sakazuki’s cock.
"Should I join in, Rob Lucci?" Borsalino draws in his ear.
Lucci can barely breathe. No sound comes out of his throat, no vibration around Sakazuki’s cock, raw in and out of him. Lucci tilts his head a bit, trying to look over his shoulder with watery eyes, but Sakazuki holds his head in place.
No. Concentrate on me. Sakazuki won’t be less at giving this brat what he wants. He sends himself in with a small thrust, then another, then a long motion sending him all the way in and out again. It’s just in response to Borsalino slapping his asscheeks that Lucci shakes slightly, that his throat vibrates. A stifled moan. The next spanking rips another, muffled sound, and his body twists.
"Would you kindly answer…?"
"Yes," Lucci breathes, his face so wet under Sakazuki’s fingers, "You better bloody do."
"Mmm… have you forgotten what your job is…?"
"Kizaru," the whisper sounds frustrated.
"Then don't stop… will you? Make the Fleet Admiral come…"
At once, Borsalino stops doing whatever it is that has Lucci so heated, behind him. He draws up a hand to squeeze Lucci's mouth, to yank him back and expose the handsome column of his neck. His perfect, symmetrical collarbone, and his chest...
Then Sakazuki sits up slightly, balancing his weight on one hand and thrusting forward. A few, steady strokes and he's splattering on Lucci's mouth. The drops overflow his lips and drip on his chest.
Lucci lets out a shallow grunt when Borsalino releases him, the tongue flicking against Sakazuki's cock before his shoulders relax.
Sakazuki throws his head back.
"Fuck. Fuck," his chest rises and falls.
For the second afterward, he floats. His head empty, or full of nothing .
Lucci. The first passing thought: is he hurt? But no. Haki. Borsalino was there. Besides, why should he care for that little bastard. (Still, spy or not, he’d be sorry for anybody who ends up tangled that way with Borsalino, an accessory to his perverted whims. Anybody including himself.)
Sakazuki sits up over his side, turning to peer at the young man. Blinks awkwardly when Lucci catches him. Borsalino is wiping him, not without smearing his nipple and holding up his fingers to Lucci's mouth. Sick ideas.
"No magma… how disappointing," Lucci muses after he's licked the rest off Borsalino's fingertips.
Sakazuki glares back. "Is this what you want? To be hurt and belittled?"
There's a hint of amusement in Lucci's black-on-black eyes, and it stays there as they draw toward Borsalino. Sakazuki should have denied that young man the victory while he could. But he knows it's not done between the other two.
He wants to see.
Borsalino's smiling eyes lock on Sakazuki's, a polite request of permission. Without a word, the Fleet Admiral picks up his cigar and fumes— a rare occasion, smoking in the bedroom.
"Felt nothing," he lies dismissively, "If you have any use for this brat, get him on bed and show me."
He gains power when he sits, a red dragon cooling to grey in the dark.
Borsalino needs no further convincing. He phases to the bed and lays back on it. He has an arm flexed nonchalantly behind his head, his third cigarette of the night hanging limply from his lips. His shirt is on and open, his pinstriped trousers still at the hips. From his demeanor one would guess he's already come, but his erection is obvious under the undone zipper.
Patient bastard.
"On my lap, please," he says, patting himself.
Lucci scrambles to him. He tugs his hair over a shoulder, giving Sakazuki a good view of the scars and back muscles, then starts rocking his hips on Borsalino.
"We-ell, well…" Borsalino chuckles, indulgently, guiding Lucci's rhythm. He pulls a hand to massage the space behind Lucci's balls, too, under Sakazuki's inquiring glare. The swaying is almost calming as Sakazuki cools down. "You're certainly a handsome thing…"
He puts the cigarette between Lucci's lips. Expertly, the younger man takes a drag.
Sakazuki is sure Lucci is rock-hard against Borsalino's flat abdomen, yearning for touch. Borsalino's noises pick up with the pace. He draws his utterances out, humming and ooh ing at Lucci's weight on him but denying anything more. His bulge grows huge, and soon pokes at Lucci's ass from under the underwear. As Lucci throws his head back his breathing is not silent anymore.
Then, Lucci shifts down to slide the golden pinstripe down Borsalino's legs. He does it carefully, like Borsalino himself would, and lowers his head to… Sakazuki squints… bite?... On the elastic of his underpants. Tugs at it without his hands. A slight humph of effort sends a wave of desire through Sakazuki's stomach, as sated as he feels.
Over Lucci's work, Borsalino glances over at Sakazuki, smiling lips pursed. Boasting.
Sakazuki realizes they can predict each other's moves, each other's wants. They're synchronized. Have been playing this game for a while.
Pried free from the underwear, Lucci is straddling him now, one knee at each of Borsalino's sides. His back to Sakazuki. Both Admirals watch keenly as Lucci spreads his own cheeks open, and slicks a finger between them.
Borsalino hums. The only clue that he's not indifferent is his solid erection, lodged between Lucci’s thighs. Borsalino produces the small vial of oil from his breast pocket again, tosses it Lucci’s way.
"Stop being so damned lazy," Sakazuki admonishes him. Lucci stays indifferent, lubbing up his own fingers, splaying them inside himself, inside his small, round hole… Sakazuki feels almost timid at the sight. An unexpected current twitches through him. He frowns at Borsalino.
"...mmm… when have I ever been lazy…?" Borsalino says around his smoke. Lucci draws circular motions inside himself, strains his ass to stretch his fingers inside, breathes, "Oh, he has a job, you see..? And he's ve-ery good at it…"
With Borsalino's hand tenderly placed on Lucci's hip, the younger man shifts around. His body is lean, agile, hard, could be easily covered completely by Borsalino's or Sakazuki's own.
Lucci has turned around to face Sakazuki now. His cock and Borsalino's are touching, stirring together. When Lucci presses his down for some friction, the Admiral digs his fingernails on his hip.
"Ah… who told you you could try to come…?" he mutters. Lucci's cheekbones get rosy as Borsalino starts guiding the rhythm of his hips again. "You are… a disobedient… pet…"
To hell with it. Sakazuki cups himself again to give himself a few strokes, too, blood running to his groin with renewed vigor. Then approaches, with caution, his steps on the floor soundless.
"I'm glad to see how you're loosening up…"
Borsalino sinks a bit deeper into the pillow to grope Lucci's ass with one, lazy hand. He's readjusted his erection, pointing at Lucci's entrance. Only one push and he could sink Lucci on it, fuck him, and by the looks of it that's all Lucci craves. But he won't. He won't. He likes torturing the young man.
Sakazuki puts a burning hand on Lucci's shoulder to hold him in place.The look Lucci gives him is of utter contempt and desire. A need flashes in his mind— seeing that hole filled, ravished. In his mind's eye he's the one doing it.
"Wait," Sakazuki groans before he thinks, "He's mine."
That seems to roll Borsalino off his reverie. He pats at Lucci's shoulder and sits up, his light bursting white in curiosity. It makes the lines of Lucci's body seem sculpted in marbre.
Sakazuki gets closer, "On your back."
Borsalino whispers an order. He's worked up himself.
Lucci complies— shit, he does — and when he leans back, his hair sprawls messily sprawling on Borsalino's chest.
Sakazuki wields his cock to draw a circle on Lucci's opening. Pushes into him, the preparation easing it some. The breath that leaves Lucci's lips is gorgeous, and so is the way his face starts to color. Borsalino shifts to kiss Lucci on the cheek, nuzzling close to his ear.
"Mmm, very good, I knew we would hear you purr…" he says, smiling modestly, shadows playing on the wrinkles of his face.
With each push, Sakazuki can feel Lucci's ice start to melt, sounds between moans and whimpers wrestling themselves from deep inside him. Sakazuki wants to take them, wants to hear him falter. He understands what it is to be Borsalino, to play like he does.
No mercy. He looks down to see the last of him disappearing into Lucci, the tattooed thigh kissing Lucci's then slapping it. The moans are now a formless torrent flowing from his mouth; his eyes are teary.
Sakazuki bends his body over Lucci's, feels him squirm when sinking his teeth on his shoulder. Borsalino is helping him by propping Lucci's ass up some. He will see this through to the end. Fuck Lucci while looking straight into his eye.
"I loathe you," Sakazuki grunts in his ear, conscious of how Lucci's cock twitches against him at the words. How he contracts around Sakazuki. How expectantly the black eyes slide across him, how he pants. "You brat…"
Borsalino makes a displeased noise. "Be nice to him…" Against Sakazuki's abs, Borsalino's hand takes care of stroking Lucci, tracing his length up and down.
As heat builds harder inside him, Sakazuki collapses on Lucci. He's at the point where he needs contact, and his lips seek skin; they find Lucci's hair, and behind him the muscle of Borsalino’s neck.
He's more instinct than brain. Sakazuki jerks his head up to seek Borsalino's lips, finds him smiling like an idiot. Sakazuki grits his teeth at the affront. Instead of pursuing Borsalino, he folds his arm around Lucci's shoulders for leverage and pulls him closer, seeking the younger man's mouth while pulsating inside him. The full, insolent lips open and Lucci's tongue clashes with Sakazuki’s.
A grunt rumbles from his throat, or from Lucci's. Impossible to tell. He's wet against Sakazuki’s almost dangerous heat, nails like claws raking the back muscles.
"Now… don't stop," Lucci says into his mouth.
"Careful," Sakazuki replies.
The position is too straining, and Sakazuki's cock slides back out. As he tries to shift on the pair, his arms pushing down on Borsalino's sides, he finds resistance. Lucci's legs clench like a fist around his back, urging him on.
"Or you will burn me?" he taunts, feline eyes full of heat.
Borsalino draws his fingertips down Lucci's breast. The exchange seems to have awoken him.
"Ah, we said no powers," he hums, "will you turn around…? I'd like to see your face…"
Sakazuki scoffs. Borsalino doesn't want his plaything to have too much fun with him. Lucci sneers briefly before complying, turning over Borsalino on his fours. Shows Sakazuki the reddened, stretched ring of his ass.
Borsalino places his palms down on Lucci’s pecs, pressing them together.
"I haven't toyed with you nearly eno-ough…"
Lucci shifts slightly so he's at level with his cock. Then presses flat against him, his pecs on Borsalino's, letting out an undignified grunt when Borsalino starts grinding against his chest. Sakazuki imagines how the sensation is, getting his chest fucked— or as close as Borsalino can. To be seized under the ribs, slipped and pressed against: all of Lucci's sweat-damp body a toy, an object to come against.
Sakazuki frowns at Borsalino. The interrupted waves of his arousal make him irritable.
"You're being lazy again. Get on your knees so I can fuck him."
Borsalino looks at him, feigning disinterest in his order, his own voice worked up.
"Ah… do you always need… to be so impatient, Sakazuki…?"
Then Lucci pushes himself up— to Sakazuki's surprise, pressing his ass back on him.
"You said I should do what he wants."
Borsalino knows how to conceal his annoyance, but he's not half as subtle as he'd like to be. Sakazuki knows that tightness in the corners of his smile.
"As you wish…," he drawls, getting on his knees and pressing his shaft against Lucci’s lower lip. Closes his fist around it in a few, sure strokes. Sakazuki tilts to see how Borsalino slides himself on Lucci’s lips, how he rubs on them, how he stretches them with a finger to see himself bulge under Lucci's cheek. All the while, Lucci takes it, impavid. "We-ell, Sakazuki...aren't you going to give him… ah… what he wants…?"
He's right. Cause and consequence.
A surprised breath escapes Lucci's mouth when Sakazuki shoves him down on his cock.
Lucci clenches around him. He pushes down another half-inch. And another. It's a feeling like being wrapped by hot, hard muscle, the hottest thing he has ever felt. He stays put, concentrates in not melting into magma. Lucci stays put too, keeping his delicious sounds to himself, a mirror.
He's do anything now to be Borsalino and see Lucci's face as Sakazuki fucks him. He seems to have lost interest in the blowjob and has rolled aside, his smile crooked and devoid of all shame.
"Oh, Lucci," Borsalino lowers to cup the side of his head, Lucci's lips smacking against Borsalino's as Sakazuki pounds down on him, "See how obedient you can be too…? You're taking him so-o good…"
Lucci will rather stay silent than show how ragged his voice is. Sakazuki knows. He's been there, horny and used and humiliated, determined to show he's unfazed.
"Away. You're all talk," Sakazuki grunts, and Lucci pushes back on him. "Do something productive."
"Mmm… would you like to come, Lucci?" Borsalino in time for Sakazuki to ram his cock in and stay there, hard, pulsating. Borsalino tries to tuck Lucci's clammy hair behind his ear again, grinning at the lucky sight. "After thinking about this for so… long…"
"Do you?" Sakazuki says, and circles his hips to pump halfway in and out of him.
"Yes," comes the ragged reply, Lucci’s deep voice gashed by a sob. "Yes. Make me come."
"Mmm… how rude…" Borsalino grins at him, caresses Lucci's nose with a fingerip. Sakazuki has to squeeze himself to keep himself from coming on the spot.
"Please," another ragged grunt, another ferocious thrust. Borsalino is delighted at tormenting the young man, and if there's one thing he doesn't mind, it's stretching out a game. "Borsalino."
Upon hearing his name, Borsalino perks up. He raises his eyebrows at Sakazuki, as though he were asking for permission. So damned cynical.
Sakazuki nods.
Borsalino takes Lucci from the neck and pushes him upright. The gesture squeezes Sakazuki out. Lucci’s thighs tense as Borsalino strokes him, and Sakazuki takes him from the wrists, pinning them together at his back. He quickly aligns his cock with the space between his buttocks. Borsalino leans in to close his lips around one of Lucci's nipples. As if forgetting it's forced in place by the wrists, the body beneath his twists, and Sakazuki lets him go.
Lucci starts stroking himself. Borsalino concentrates fully on kissing and licking Lucci's chest, giving him the contact his skin is burning for by now. Sakazuki wraps a dominant arm around Lucci's body, the cool shoulders tensing up. Judging from their shaking, they'll go limp soon, when he comes. Sakazuki is there, too- he only needs to move one bit and he will, he's sure…
Sakazuki spasms. The heat gives way to a violent pleasure, the thrill of knowing he's filling Lucci up with his cum. He lets out another groan, the peak hitting him unexpectedly hard, pushes deeper into Lucci. Once, twice. Before he slips out and leaves the perfect round 'o' of his rim dripping.
Sakazuki shuts his eyes tight. Lucci is still leaning back to rub himself up and down the shaft— Sakazuki grimaces, then drags him aside with a hand.
He feels like a bout of liquid fire has been released in his brain, making everything bright around him. He lets his head pound for a few seconds.
Getting on his feet, he flares heat to his hands and groin, the magma easing the soreness and calming his organs. A minute and he shall be like new.
He spies, from the corner of his eye, that Lucci's forehead has found a spot against Borsalino's shoulder. It could look like an embrace if it weren't for the morbid, curious way he's examining his own hand, covered in thick white threads— his or Borsalino's, Sakazuki doesn't care to know.
"Kitten," comes the mellow voice, "I'm not done…"
It's Lucci's, then. "Will you die if you don't come once?"
Sakazuki grimaces. He's ready to kick Borsalino and his brilliant ideas out. He will only tolerate this utter chaos for so long.
"Go cuddle elsewhere," he says. He scans the room for his underpants, snatches them from under the armchair. A memory flashes behind his eyelids and he shakes it off. "And don't be late to the office tomorrow."
"Your friend is very selfish," Lucci says.
"Ah… but he's my boss, too, you know…?" Borsalino is already shrugging his shirt on.
Sakazuki draws a palm over his face. That idiot is going to get them in trouble. And Sakazuki, he's the biggest idiot of them all for allowing himself to be dragged along, for wanting him so.
At his quarters, Borsalino has enjoyed torturing him some more— but that, as the Admiral himself would say, is water under the bridge.
Now, Lucci has washed away the soreness on his back and arms until it's faded into a delicious tingle. What's left of the pain inside him is titillating, too. He's satisfied to test his own limits, to remind himself of them when he moves.
His body is wrapped in plush satin, his damp hair combed back. And Hattori has his tree-branch toes wrapped around his hand, gives his fingers a nip here and there, for reassurance. Soon, they will leave.
He hears Borsalino's cigarette hiss away on the ashtray. Turns to him. Lucci knows his thoughts still linger on the night behind them.
"He's amusing," he says. He seeks something in Borsalino's face, a hint of that contempt that he displayed as Lucci was in Akainu's hands. But no… there's none of it. The only clue he's not asleep in delight is the glint in his eyes. "Quite excessive. But amusing."
Borsalino chuckles.
"You should be one to talk about excess, Rob Lucci…"
He rolls over to pet Hattori. The first one smart enough to win the pigeon over first. Not that anybody would know, from the disperse way he carries himself… but appearing weak is a strength in itself.
"Ah, Sakazuki thinks you're in my bed to gather intel… so, in a sense, being that you earned none… it was a victory for me-e…"
"Why? Do you have anything to hide?" Lucci unveils his smile, two rows of teeth like white tombstones.
Borsalino smiles, too. Smiles as he brushes his lips against Lucci's. If this were a trap, they both know he would escape by the skin of his teeth and come back for more. He would get tangled in this spiderweb, they both would, all over again.
Until that happens, all they can greedily take from each other, they will.