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With cheeks damp with the swell of heat beneath your skin, your breath huffing and panting with overexertion, you finally felt that final wave of adrenaline push you to accomplish what your training and education in the mastery of combat taught you. Your mentor in the way of the sword and your home away from the life you had known prior, you were Mihawk’s protege, joined hand in hand with your role as his spouse.
You trained to beat him in battle in your own right, not to take away his title as world’s best, but to simply be better than what you were yesterday, and desired the smile Mihawk would give to you whenever you succeeded. With Zoro returning to the Thousand Sunny, Perona leaving of her own volition to return to her prior home, all that remained in Kuraigana was yourself and the sporadic appearance of Dracule Mihawk.
Once he was returned to you, and ensured you were both fed, and watered adequately with the spoils of his land, Mihawk finally accepted your offer of a spar to check your development in the realms of combat mastery in his absence. What Mihawk didn’t know is that you had begun to read up on playing dirtier for the sake of the win as opposed to the love of the technique.
This particular technique you used to disarm Mihawk was to cross your blade with his, kiss him desperately and needily in the crossed window, claim the sword around his neck inside the hilt and immediately press the small blade against his jaw and jab up hard. No blood seeped from the wound given the fact it was covered, but the shock of the onslaught had his hand and your own dropping your main blades and focussing on lingering in this moment.
You used your leverage to cause him to back up in his steps. With the terrain raised surrounding you, Mihawk’s boot heel caught on a root and tripped him. His hands reached for your hips to steady himself, falling you directly into his lap while the smaller blade remained pointed beneath his chin.
“And what is this technique, little dove?” Mihawk stuttered out with a laugh. Still with his jaw elevated to the sky by will of your hand, his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed a dry lump of overexerted breath, “Reading those books in my library on fighting dirty? Not playing nice?”
“Since when did you care about nice, Mihawk?” you scoffed back at him, using your unoccupied hand to cast aside his belt buckle and open his pants. You rose to stand, looking down at him with a smug expression while you still planted the edge of the hilted cross against his chin. Tugging down your pants, you kicked them away and resumed your position straddling his lap.
“I am always nice to-, ah-!” Mihawk’s hands moved to clasp around your hips while the heat of your body pressed into him hard, “Not so rough. I have been travelling for the past few days.”
“And I have been here,” you retorted, pressing the hilt of the smaller sword firmer while your hand moved to his cock to grasp it, “Isolated,” you slowly pumped along the length and awoke the shaft of your master, “Alone.” You gave his cock a few choice pumps before moving your body above his. Angling his blunt tip against your entrance, already feeling aroused by the adrenaline of the fight and the return of your partner, you began to push his cock inside you to claim your victory.
“Easy now, dear. It’s been-... stars,” Mihawk gasped as his lips parted, gaping softly while his eyes rolled at the warmth gripping his girth, “...How I’ve missed you.” His hands slowly returned to your hips and aided in guiding you down his cock. You both sighed out as you drew yourself down to his hilt, all the while pressing Mihawk’s smaller blade to his neck harder.
“You leave me alone for too long, and how am I supposed to be, hm?” you retort with a small snarl, all while chuckling darkly at your lover, “I’ve been here without the company of another person while you get to enjoy all of the finer things in life with the company of one Crocodile.” You slowly rise and fall on his length, taking him deep into your body while he hummed out in protest, “And the entertainment of a genius jester-.”
“-Make mention of the clown again while I’m buried inside you, and you will regret-, ah-!” With a curt jab of the hilt, bruising your lover’s flesh in the process as he hissed out in pleasure.
“I am the one in control here, Dracule,” you growl up at him, rolling your hips and feeling your pleasure begin to mount at the base of your belly and travel up to your every sense, “I have been without you for far too long and have missed you.” Mihawk’s grip on your hips grew weak while you picked up the pace of riding his cock and focusing on your pleasure. He huffed, gasping at your possessiveness while being proud of your dominance at once.
He had missed everything about you, but this feral streak was new to him. He had little time to prepare for the way you were being with him aside from simply taking the loss of battle and be used in the way you needed him. His hands were soft, gentle, but mentally equally as possessive as you were about him - barely restrained by the blunt edge of his own weapon digging into his neck.
“I missed you,” he whispered softly, “So much, my darling.” Mihawk attempted to bounce his hips up to meet your pace, only encouraged by a soft whine he tugged from your throat. The limp grip of his hand moved towards your pleasure, slowly taking it within his fingers and rolling your flesh through soft actions.
“I missed you,” your whimper released in an unmatched way to the dominance you were granting to him. You slowly ground yourself down onto his cock while encouraging his hand to continue their motions, “Don’t ever leave me here by myself again. I can’t stand being alone cooped up here.” You increase your pace, feeling that build spark in your veins and slowly tighten in the pit of your belly.
Mihawk groaned deeply and continued his gentle handling while you felt on the cusps of your ecstasy. With one harsh baring down atop his cock, and him focussing upwards while blindly petting needily along where you needed him, stars shot behind your vision and your world erupted into the call of rapture. Blooming along your chest, the warmth cracked like lightning along your spirit while your souls beat as one.
Your swordsman had simply been away for too long and not focussed enough on his own pleasure while departed from you that he toppled behind. The way your body gripped him while the sinful display of your purity washing over your features was enough to have him flooding your body with his own euphoria.
Both you and Mihawk slowly rode lazily and desperately through your highs before you dropped his sword from his neck and replaced its mark with your lips. Kissing along the small bruise your battle against his skin invoked, you pressed your apologies against the mark. Mihawk’s hand moved to your back and gently held you while your prior violent victory led to a gentleness he yearned for in his travels.
“When I am called to return, I swear I’ll take you with me,” he promised while holding you close to his chest, “I swear it on my life and my heart. Also,” he tilted his head down towards you with his brow raised, “While I am very proud of you that you used an arsenal of tricks to best me, I will have you know that this outcome does not feel like a loss, my sweet.”
“I will aim to do better,” you chuckled against his neck, still panting while clasping his necklace back against his chest, “For now, I’m just happy you’re back.” You nuzzled against his embrace while he gently stroked his hand along your spine.
“As am I, my love. As am I.”