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Sabo placed his glass against the bartop—a bit too harshly, based on the loud thunk it made. At least it didn’t crack. The man next to him did the same, slightly less harsh. He was, however, in a similar state of inebriation—just a bit past tipsy, but not quite at the loss of balance stage yet.
Sabo leveled a look over at his companion. They knew each other in the sort of way that was not particularly amenable—in the way that the commander-in-chief of the revolutionary army knew of the strongest member in CP9’s history. Again, not particularly conducive towards friendship.
Sharing a few drinks, however, as they’d been doing for the past few hours with no problems, seemed to be a good way to smooth over any urges towards beating each other senseless. In fact, it was even a bit of an encouragement towards something
more—
Sabo found himself caught on the material of Lucci’s suit. His jacket had been shed a while ago, and Sabo had been unrepentantly eating him up with his eyes for at least the past half hour. He wore a silk shirt, because of course he did, and Sabo wanted to feel it beneath his fingers.
Before he could even think through his actions, he was running a finger down Lucci’s spine. Heated up to far past the normal human body temperature thanks to his devil fruit, he could tell the other man felt it by the way his back arched. Sabo smirked.
Lucci turned towards him, something dangerous flashing in his eyes. Sabo shifted in his seat, finger hooking into Lucci’s belt loop and staying there. The other man’s lip curled upwards, showing off a hint of the fangs his own devil fruit liked to give him.
Sabo’s smirk widened.
Sabo moaned as Lucci’s cock pushed into him, stretching him wide in a stupidly pleasurable way. Seas, he’d needed this for a while now.
When his ass was flush with Lucci’s thighs, he rose up until only the head of the zoan’s dick remained inside of him, then dropped down abruptly. Following that rhythm, he set a fast pace, ripping moans and whimpers from his throat that he attempted to trap behind clenched teeth. It didn’t work, but evidently, Lucci was having the same or worse luck—every movement Sabo made had the man tense, hypersensitive and unused to not doing all the work. It was fun to see him look both horny out of his mind and unsure as a man like him could be, lust clouding his better senses.
Now, there was one thing Sabo had been curious about as he convinced Lucci to warm his bed for the night—zoan fruits, unlike the other two classes, were a bit strange. They linked in better with instincts and the mind, almost as if possessing one of their own. Now whether that transferred over to fucking…
Well, the pricking of claws at Sabo’s hips certainly helped answer that question. Lucci’s hands had settled there moments earlier, but it seemed he couldn’t fully control himself—when Sabo glanced downwards, there were tiny rivulets of blood painting his skin, trailing down to his thighs. He shot a grin up towards Lucci, but the man’s own expression was more of a match with what he was feeling—a baring of teeth, fangs on prominent display, lips curled in a snarl. Oh, he was turning into an absolute beast. Sabo’s grin changed to match the other man’s, only for his eyes to roll back as he moved just slightly and Lucci’s cock slammed against his prostate on the next thrust. He forgot all about Lucci’s more beastly qualities then, more focused on bringing as much of that sensation as possible as soon as possible. Fuck, he wanted to cum, not drag it out—that was why he’d sought out Lucci in the first place.
He picked up his pace once more, tossing his head back as the incessant pressure against his prostate made him unable to focus on anything else.
“Seas, yes,” he moaned, the hand he didn’t need for support making its way up his torso to press against his nipple, roll it between his fingers. He didn’t need to see to know what a sight he made—practically absolutely debauched, fondling himself like he didn’t give even half a shit about the man below him. And truth be told, he really didn’t.
He felt his edge coming faster than it usually did—probably due to him not taking the time or effort to make sure Lucci was getting the same pleasure out of their movements—and bit down a moan. His other hand flew to his dick, and he cut off his harsh bouncing, switching instead to jerky grinding that pressed Lucci right where he needed him, milking the most overwhelming sort of pleasure out of him. The glide of his hand against his dick was slickened by the sheer amount of precome that Sabo had been leaking, sticky drops crowning from his head and being swallowed up by the up-and-down glide of his hand.
“Fuck!” he moaned once more and then he was coming, the prick of Lucci’s nails digging deeper into his skin as Sabo tightened around him. Cum shot in steady pulses, painting Lucci’s chest and abdomen in ropes of pearly white.
What a sight.
When he felt as though he could move again, his muscles freed from the coiled tension of lust and orgasm, he went boneless, listing to the side and then falling, landing limply on the mattress. Lucci’s cock slipped out of him, and Sabo ended up half on his side and half face down, sheets and his own hair in his mouth, wrist pinned beneath him.
Lucci, to his right, remained motionless for the space of a few heavy breaths. When Sabo glanced over, his eyes were wide, disbelieving—but only for another second. Within the next, Lucci, was on top of him, snarling and flashing sharp, cat-like fangs in Sabo’s face. Sabo could only grin in return—a threat was not a threat to someone it could not harm, right? Still, the visual served quite well to get the fire in his veins thrumming once more.
“Are you serious?” Lucci all but snarled in his face, throat tight. Sabo’s grin remained, but now it took on a challenging edge. “Selfish prick. Think you can do whatever you want, is that it?” Lucci bit out. Without waiting for a response, he took hold of Sabo’s wrists and jerked them up above his head, pinning them against the mattress with one hand in each of Sabo’s.
In retaliation, Sabo hiked his legs up around Lucci’s waist, locking them in place by crossing one ankle over the other, digging into the small of Lucci’s back. It restricted the zoan’s movement, and once more, Sabo was met with gleaming white fangs. He bit his lip.
Their stalemate lasted for less than a moment before Lucci’s lust and
need
forced him to surrender, releasing one of Sabo’s hands to better brace himself. He began to move—harsh, bruising thrusts that nearly dislodged Sabo’s legs. As it was, he was struggling to remain still—Lucci either had impeccable aim or very good luck, because he was driving directly into Sabo’s prostate
again
.
And despite having come not ten minutes ago, he could feel a familiar heat boiling in his belly.
He shifted his now-free hand to Lucci’s shoulder, steadying himself and digging his fingers into the muscle for a sense of grounding. Lucci continued his movements without pause, huffing into Sabo’s neck—didn’t even hesitate when Sabo began to smell smoke, burned flesh, and realized he had begun to sear his handprint into Lucci’s bicep. There wasn’t a moment of hesitation or pause from the zoan, who just continued to fuck him as though his life depended on it.
An involuntary moan escaped Sabo’s throat, and he forced himself to peel his hand away. Sparks shot along his spine at the sight of the mark—it would scar, for sure, an obvious vivid, angry red that Sabo had learned meant it was at least second-degree. It had partially mutilated the tattoo Lucci had there, burning away skin and ink alike.
Sabo was so absorbed in the image he forgot that the mark was actually attached to living, breathing flesh—or at least, he did until he pressed a nail into it, testing the give, cruelly and harshly dragging the jagged edges across sensitive, injured skin.
Lucci, in turn, hissed—the sound startled Sabo out of the sort of reverie he had fallen into, and he pulled away once more. Lucci’s movements stuttered, then picked up a tell-tale, frantic pace that Sabo knew meant he was close. He waited just a half of a second more, then shoved the other man off of him—it wasn’t very hard, considering how distracted Lucci was with the pleasure coursing through his veins.
Lucci’s oncoming orgasm was
ruined
—
his cock jerked pitifully in the cold air, no longer stimulated by Sabo’s tight heat, dribbling spurts of cum onto his abdomen. Lucci snarled, hips jerking fruitlessly, but Sabo held him down—a reversal of positions, Lucci’s hands pinned to the bed, away from his aching dick, Sabo above him. Sabo, however, wouldn’t be letting go any time soon.
Sabo pushed him further onto his back, straddling his chest with a grin. Lucci had no idea what he had gotten himself into.
Hands still pinned up above his head, Sabo moved so that both of his knees were pressing down against Lucci’s biceps, restricting them from moving in a way that was far more painful than necessary.
“Now then, Lucci,” he purred, “Since I’ve been so kind… I expect a little bit of repayment, do you understand?” He swayed his hips, practically hovering above Lucci’s face at this point. “After that, well… maybe I’ll let you come once more.” His grin grew, wide and cruel.
It had been a while since Sabo had found anyone who could handle what he liked to give out, and now that he had… well, he wasn’t going to let Lucci go until he had his fun.