Chapter Text
The worst thing about being vulnerable is that everyone knows your weaknesses. They’ll use your weakness to wear you thin and drag you out. It’s never a compromise of power but always and imbalance that leaves you gutted and helpless under it. Buggy feels this way as he face gets pressed too hard into the mattress below him. Shanks is always too rough when he’s drunk. And nowadays, he’s always drunk. He’s always too loud, too obnoxious, too careless in everything he does that Buggy knows he can be vulnerable because Shanks will not say anything about it when he’s ten drinks too deep. Way too deep.
“Fuck, baby. You feel so fucking good.” Shanks is panting and gripping Buggy’s hips a little too hard. “I missed you so much.”
It’s odd how Shanks gets so rough and aggressive during sex when he’s drunk then at the same time be sappy. Buggy knows it’s the alcohol talking when he says shit like this. He never dare say it sober. Not for the past twenty years at least. Buggy wonders just how many people he’s said the same thing to when he fucks them. Wonders if he fucks everyone like this on his bed after drinking too much. He could almost imagine it when shanks hand goes under to rub him and his mind short circuits.
“Shanks- fuck, right there! Please!”
He doesn’t want to beg but he’s a little wasted himself so Buggy blames it on the alcohol. Shanks groans and moves his hand faster. His thrusts are hard and sloppy and Buggy can only imagine just how much it’ll hurt when he wakes up sober tomorrow. Shanks uses his weight to push Buggy down more and go deeper which doesn’t seem possible. He’s hitting all the right spots too well for a drunk man and Buggy knows he won’t last much longer like this. Shanks leans down and kisses the side of his face that’s visible. His blue hair has mostly fallen from the ponytail he had it in and now sticks to his sweaty skin. His makeup is a mess and most of it’s on the sheets that were white before tonight.
Shanks continues to kiss his face and groans whenever he thrusts really hard. Buggy allows himself to be vulnerable right now and soak it all in. Back when they were teens, sex was so much different. They would make love and try not to get caught. Now they’re fucking so loud and it’s to blow off some steam. To hell with anyone catching them. Buggy would be leaving the island tomorrow and go back to the village he ransacked. But right now, he just needed to feel this and forget everything.
“Shanks, I’m really close.” He can feel his stomach getting taut. He whines. “I’m gonna cu-“
He’s cut off when it hits him. Buggy’s whole body shakes and he’s clenching so hard around Shanks. The red haired man moves his hand up and yanks Buggy’s head back way too hard by his hair. Much harder than he meant to. Buggy yelps and he’s so close to crying because it hurts so bad. Shanks moves his hand to his throat and his grip tightens.
“Tell me who you are.” Shanks leans his lips into the back of Buggy’s head. “Please tell me who you are, baby.”
Buggy would argue but he’s already detaching his hands trying to pry shanks hand from his throat. Trying to at least loosen it. But it’s no use when the other is so much stronger. Alphas are always so much stronger.
“I’m yours!” Buggy’s body hurts so bad but he doesn’t want the feeling to completely stop. “I’m a Red Haired Pirate! I’m yours, please-“
Shanks groans and he’s cumming. Buggy feels it when it happens and realizes while drunk they forgot to ever put the condom on. He prays to every god out there that Shanks hasn’t fucked any of the brothel whores. At least not without protection. This sobers him up quite a bit because how in the world could he have been so stupid to let this happen. It gets worse when Shanks pulls out and Buggy realizes it’s just dripping out of him. He’s messy and his insides hurt too much. His throat hurts too and if he had the energy to turn around and beat the shit out of Shanks, he would.
Shanks lays down on the mattress, his breath really slow and he looks pale. Buggy slowly sits up, trying not to move too fast because he hurts so much. He’s tempted to curse shanks out but his thought process is cut off when Shanks leans out over the side of the bed and starts violently puking. It was essentially straight alcohol, and Buggy knew sooner or later it was all gonna find a way out after all the shots he had. A few minutes later and he’s finally done dry heaving long enough to look at Buggy who’s a complete mess. His makeup is virtually gone and smeared into a big blob on the sheets. His hair is messy and tangled and Shanks wants to say something but gets interrupted.
“Don’t fucking stare at me.” His voice is hoarse and his throat still hurts
“M’sorry.” Shanks stands up and wobbles before finding his balance. To no one’s surprise he grabs the half finished beer on his nightstand and chugs the rest of it.
Buggy wrinkles his nose and almost feels bad. He would say something or try and stop him but he’s too pissed to really care what Shanks does at the moment. He just wants to wash any hint of Shanks off him and go about like nothing happened. The next time they happen to stop on the same island he’ll make sure not to get involved with Shanks again. But he says that every fucking time.
“I’m gonna go back out.” Buggy doesn’t look up at him. “I don’t know when I’ll be back.”
Shanks leaves the room luckily having the decency to close the door behind him. Buggy waits a few moments hoping he comes back in but he never does. The walk from the bed to the bathroom is uncomfortable and he knows he must have dropped questionable fluids onto the floor. But in reality it can’t be any worse than the vomit of the other side of the bed.
In the bathroom there’s a towel he can use to wipe himself down to attempt to clean off. He gets it damp with a little bit of water Shanks left in there and starts rubbing at his thighs and anywhere else Shanks touched and left a reminder of their secrete activities. In the mirror he doesn’t recognize himself with his hair and makeup absolutely fucked. His neck makes him wince and he really considers crying. The bruise is already a deep purple color and nearly a perfect hand shape. It’s disgusting and he’s trying to scrub it off but it just hurts.
“Fuck!” He punches the mirror and the glass goes flying. Fuck shanks he can get himself a new one.
Buggy doesn’t want to see himself, or he’ll cry. He’s disgusted in himself for continuing to allow it to happen when Shanks is drunk. But he has to remind himself that that’s all the time now. Shanks isn’t a sober man and hasn’t been one for many years. Buggy knows that. He knows how Shanks is when he’s drunk, but he’ll keep coming back.
Buggy hates being vulnerable because Shanks is his weakness. Always has been. Which is why he ignores him when he sees him at the bar and keeps walking. His crew will leave tonight before he has a chance to be weak again.