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The last thing Mihawk expected at this late hour was a visitor. Yet here she was anyway, darkening his doorstep with her good cheer and intolerable smirk.
"I see your little bird has flown the nest," she remarked, noting the absence of his green-haired pupil.
Zoro had set sail the week before, chasing his heart to reunite with his captain. He had finally found something greater than his ambition, and it set his feet on the right path to surpassing Mihawk and conquering the seas.
The thought of it made Mihawk smirk with delight. It would be very interesting indeed to see his pupil’s crew tear the New World asunder.
“He’s off to bigger and better things,” Mihawk replied coolly, stepping aside to let the she-devil in. No use arguing with this one, he thought, she gets her way no matter what.
She stepped briskly in, examining the dilapidated castle’s entryway with a careful eye. “I see this place is as gloomy as ever,” she remarked, tracing a finger along the stone wall. She grimaced when her finger ended up coated in dust.
“And it’s filthy too. Good god Draccy, do you ever clean?”
“I clean,” he said through clenched teeth, irritated at both her presence and her ridiculous nickname. “And don’t call me that, you insufferable woman.”
She flashed him a smirk then, full of mischief as she replied, “Okay, Hot Eyes.”
Mihawk’s hands twitched towards where he hid his dagger. “Don’t you have anything better to do,” he griped, “than to bother me?”
She pretended to think for a minute, then pulled out several bottles of the South Blue’s finest rum from the basket she carried. “Now that you mention it,” she slyly smirked, “I do have these fine bottles of alcohol, and regrettably no one to share it with.” She placed the back of her hand to her forehead in a dramatic gesture.
“Oh, if only there was a big, handsome swordsman with decent alcohol tolerance to share these with.” Her voice took a teasing tone. “But you’ll do in a pinch, I suppose.”
Dear God, this woman was worse than Red Hair. Defeatedly, he gestured in the vague direction of the dining room. “Go have a seat,” he sighed, “and I’ll get the rum tumblers.”
Once everything was settled, she uncorked the bottle and poured out two generous helpings of rum.
“So,” she asked, kicking her feet up on the dining table, “what have you been up to these days, aside from playing babysitter?”
They chatted idly for a while, the conversation growing heavier the deeper they got into their cups.
“I worried about you, you know,” she slurred, tracing the rim of her cup with her finger, “at Marineford. I was so sure you were gonna die.”
Mihawk huffed at that. “Thank you,” he slurred back sarcastically, “for that vote of confidence.” He took another sip of rum.
“Don’t take it personally,” she replied, “ I thought everyone on that battlefield was gonna die. That was the only possible outcome, when an Emperor and the World Government clash.”
She turned her eyes to look at him, her gaze intense, “I’m glad I was wrong, you know,” she said.
Mihawk snorted. “I find that very hard to believe.” he remarked, pulling another sip from his tumbler.
She frowned, her cheeks rosy. Whether from irritation or alcohol, Mihawk couldn’t tell. “Well, why wouldn’t I be?” she demanded. “You’re my favorite person, Draccy, of course I’d want you to stay alive.”
Mihawk snorted in disbelief. “I don’t believe you,” he said.
She frowned at that. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to prove it to you.”
She got up and straddled his lap, bracing her arms on either side of his face. He could smell her sweet perfume at this distance, adding to the fog from the alcohol. She began to slowly lean in, her eyes beginning to close.
Mihawk could feel his face burning uncomfortably. “What are you-” he was interrupted by her placing a finger on his lips.
“Sssssshhhhhh” she slurred, “you talk too much.”
Well, no one had accused him of that before.
“An’ you think too much,” she continued, “I can practically hear it sometimes, you think so loudly.”
She placed her forehead on his, her lips inches from his. “I wanna kiss you,” she said, “Can I do that?”
There were a million reasons he shouldn’t let her. They were both drunk, for one. And as much as this woman infuriated him, he didn’t want her to regret this in the morning.
(And if, somewhere in the deepest recesses of his black heart, he wished that this would lead to more, to be more than a one-night thing, well. No one had to know.)
"We're drunk." He replied. "We shouldn't."
She traced a finger around his ear, coming around to tug at the cross around his neck. The cord bit painfully where it dug into his neck, pulling him even closer to her.
“Now, Draccy,” she purred, those rosy lips of hers pulling into a sultry smirk. “When has that ever stopped you?”
God damn, he hated when she had a point.
She shifted in his lap, getting more comfortable. Her eyes widened as she felt the burgeoning tent in his pants, then turned mischievous. With a slow, deliberate movement, she rolled her hips directly over his erection.
Mihawk threw his head back and hissed. This woman, he swore, would be the death of him.
He gripped her arms, meaning to stop her, but found himself pressing her down as his hips snapped up.
She leaned into his ear, softly caressing his cheek. "See?" She purred, "You want this just as badly as I do."
When Mihawk didn't say anything, she began to nip and suck and tease at his neck and collarbone, her nails gently scraping his exposed chest.
A good man would have stopped her there. A good man would have put her in a spare room and let her sleep off the alcohol. A good man would watch her leave in the morning, and wallowed in his regrets.
Mihawk was not a good man.
He gripped her bottom and stood up, carrying her easily. She squeaked and clung to him, moderately surprised at the sudden movement.
When they finally got to his room, distracted as they were, Mihawk gently laid her on the bed. He leaned in and brought his lips to hers in a passionate kiss.
She responded eagerly, pushing his shirt off effortlessly and working frantically on removing his pants. She fumbled frustratingly with the belt, scrambling desperately he marked her in turn, his beard scratching softly at her sensitive neck and shoulders.
Chuckling lowly, he slipped off her dress, teasing her nipples as she finally got the blasted buckle off, freeing his erect manhood.
With a muffled cry of victory, she flipped their positions, startling Mihawk. She once more sat astride him, legs quivering as she slowly enveloped him in warm, wet heat. When she moved her hips, it produced an ecstasy unlike any he’d experienced with another partner.
“Oh, quierdo,” he whispered between kisses, his golden eyes intense, “you will be the death of me.”
“Oh, Draccy,” she purred, “Don’t die on me yet! We haven’t- ah, yes there~!- haven’t gotten to the best part!”
He growled at the nickname, flipping her over and taking control. He pinned her arms above her head and slowly drew out halfway.
“Draccy,” she begged, “please move, please, I need you Oh God.”
Mihawk smirked. She was finally at his mercy. “How many times,” he growled, “have I told you not to use that infernal nickname?”
He leaned in and nipped her ear, listening to her mewls and pleads. “Too many. You will beg me properly .”
“Oh God, Draccy, you asshole, fuck you, just fuck me already. ” she demanded.
Mihawk pulled out even further, ignoring her pleads for mercy. “Say my name,” he demanded, “ properly. Then, just maybe, I’ll give you what you want. If you’re a good girl.”
She whimpered prettily at his words. His gaze, more intense with the promise of sex, bore into hers. Slowly, she crumpled and begged, “ Dracule, please fuck me hard .”
Mihawk’s smirk grew, “ That’s my girl ,” he said as his hips snapped up, causing her to cry out in ecstasy.
He continued to snap his hips with force, the two of them rocking and creaking the old bed. It didn’t take very long for the two of them to crest the peaks of pleasure together. It was, after all, the culmination of years of pent-up frustration, and both were massively impatient.
One round turned into two, which turned into three. The two of them couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Eventually, however, they both collapsed from exhaustion. Mihawk pulled the blanket over them both and cuddled her to his chest.
Tomorrow, they would talk properly. Tomorrow, she would either walk out forever or finally be a more permanent fixture in his life.
But that was tomorrow.
For now, he’d enjoy his time with her and keep the memories of this night close to his heart.
And with that thought, he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.