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"Fuck, you're beautiful like this."
Law hums absently, adjusting how he kneels to ease the ache of his bones against the cold floor.The gold jewelry through his nipples is bright against his amaretto skin, his amber eyes hazed over even as they nearly glitter in the light of his personal quarters.
Sanji laughs where lounges easily- wearing nothing but one of Law's old shirts unbuttoned and loose over pale scars like angel feathers and creamy skin like the dregs of milk and honey offered to a starsent messiah in a manger.
The beads of the rosary tangled around tattooed hands clink softly as Law half-drowses in the comforting fog of submission.
["What's this?"
Law glances to the side as Sanji wanders the quarters comfortably naked, skin bare in the gold light and Law lets himself enjoy the view before glancing at what Sanji holds in sacred hands.
"...My old rosary."
"You're religious?"
"I was, once."]
A holy hand reaches out, cupping Law's jaw as Sanji smiles down with unsanctified grace and Iscariot's hunger in seagrave eyes, "You look good on your knees, mon cher. Especially when your eyes get all..."
Sanji trails off, shivering slightly as if the realization he has a powerful man kneeling like he seeks absolution is something he feels physically- racing over his bones and nerve endings like holy fire, like something tangible and unable to be named by mortal words. He runs a thumb over Law's lower lip before slight pressure lets the captain know the chef wants him to open his mouth.
He does, wordlessly obedient when held fast by the hands of a savior far more real than the one he read about in schoolday stories, when soft voiced Sisters gently recited prayers and morals like it could save anyone, in the end.
Sanji's thumb releases Law's lip to move over Law's wine-red tongue; gliding over the muscle and the gold bead nestled in the center like a pearl.
["What's it for?", Sanji asks, moving the string of beads with it's dangling crucifx around in the light to watch the way they shimmer, "Good luck, or something?"
"Contemplation.", continues Law, scanning over his haphazardly stocked bookshelves before pulling one free, flipping through its pages for a moment, "Comfort. Prayer."
He absently gnaws a thumbnail as he reads before he hears Sanji huff softly, "Why's it so cold, the fuck?"
Law looks over again, and feels his breath catch in his throat when he realizes Sanji has decided to wear the rosary like a necklace; the crucifix glowing golden against the cook's lean chest right over the bottom of the sternum.]
Law flexes his hands carefully, feeling the beads move against tendon and bone and inkdrenched flesh as Sanji replaces his thumb with his middle two fingers.
"Suck, pretty thing."
Law moans heavily, swallowing once before he leans forward to take Sanji's fingers fully into his mouth- feeling fingertips press against the back of his tongue as the bead of the muscle's piercing presses between the digits. He suckles almost gently, laving the base of the fingers with the tip of his tongue as his eyes roll back and fall shut like cathedral doors slamming closed at the back of an early congregation.
"Mmn. Good boy."
Law's pelvis aches.
["What's the prayer?", asks Sanji as he casually toys with the holy tool he wears like a harlot's pendant, "Is it something special."
"It- uh. Hm.", Law clears his throat and gives his head a shake to focus, "Depends on the size of the beads, the number, that kind of thing."
"Show me." purrs Sanji as he returns to Law's bed to lounge upon it in a mess of angles and angelflesh, "C'mere- show me."
Law doesn't notice that he's dropped his book as he obeys- but the cook notices; his eyes glint with something predatory as he beckons almost lewdly with a crooked finger and naked silhouette.]
Law almost growls when the fingers are pulled from his mouth; lips slick with spit as a line of saliva leaks from the corner of his mouth and he watches the saturated and reddened fingers retreat from his reach. He swallows his voice, and swallows his voice- until he can't choke off the whine as he watches Sanji's flexibility taunt him with impossible geometries and sinuous movement as those fingers press into the cook and the moan wrapped in a smoker's rasp haunts the very air the captain breathes.
Law knows he's started panting, watching the cook finger himself; but he can't find it in himself to be able to give a fuck about things like dignity when he can feel his heartbeat in his cock.
Sanji's head lolls back as he moans open mouthed again, the sound caressing the name wrapped in the sound like the Devil's own accursed hands.
"Nnghfuck, Law-"
[Sanji relaxes- a hungry serpent, a loving betrayer; watching Law's tattooed fingers pass over the beads for a moment before the low hum of the captain's voice sounds into the room. Recitation, rusty and almost foreign but still familiar enough to be loved, to be missed.
Sanji reaches out to trace his fingers over Law's bare chest, trace along each rib with dancing fingertips and law swears the touch leaves burnmarks behind like the licking of a lake of fire's rolling tides- intent on turning whatever pieces of a soul he has left into greyblack ashes.
The cook rolls onto his back as Law murmurs old prayers, and Law stutters when the position of Sanji's body lets the crucifix rest just above the navel, just above the beginning of a soft trail of gold that leads down to the source of a primal offering.]
Law rests hi head against one of Sanji's legs- he knows the words he whispers are desperate and hungry and holy all in equal measures before he sinks his teeth into soft skin- feels capillaries burst under his tongue to imperfect the perfected and he growls when he feels the resistance of muscle and skin against his ever-hungry teeth. When he tastes the hint of a metallic tang he releases, dragging his tongue over the taste with a sonorous groan as Sanji calls out sharply with a hard shudder that nearly rattles his bones from the force.
"Fuck, do that again, again right fuckin' now-"
And Law obeys, oh how he obeys- the starving apostle, the fallen one drenched in ink and blood and apologies and the taste of copper and frailty saturates his tongue as he pants hoarsely; like a hunting dog run too hard, like a man running from the weight of his sins.
And Sanji looks down with lidded eyes and bright cheeks, looks down with with something far more vicious than hunger in his eyes.
["I'm almost a little jealous.", teases the chef once Law has told him the old prayers, the old ways. Law meets the cook's gaze with a raised eyebrow and a tilted head, inquiring further without spoken words.
Sanji pushes himself up into a sitting position, his smile sly and vulpine to match the blacked out blown wide pupil stare of his demanding eyes, "I wish I could make you beg like you pray; fuck, I wish I could make you talk to me like you talk to the holy deadbeat."
"If anyone could, it would be you I'd think.", Law answers before he stumbles over a swear in his mothertongue and feels a blush begin to creep up his neck and Sanji's expression turns wicked and burning.
"..Is that so, mon cher."]
Sanji's thighs are littered in vicious bites, the bruising mottled purple and red and stinging like whip-wounds before Sanji's shaking voice sounds a last time and he pulls his fingers free. He looks down to Law... and grins.
"If I call myself a sacrament, would you swallow me?", he croons, and Law nods lazily, "Would you, you pretty wicked thing? If I promised you absolution would you pray for me?"
"Anything.", rasps the captain.
"I'll keep that in mind for later.", says Sanji with a whisper of laughter in the words, "...For now, on your back."
Law swallows, his mouth dry- feels the weight of Sanji's gaze as he moves carefully from his kneeling position to be able to fall back against the floor in a half sprawl- bound hands over his head and the floor cold against his bare back. The whisper of air over his chest and stomach makes the skin prickle, makes nipples harden and he can't help the slight arch of his back when he hears Sanji kneel over a hardened waist- feeling unscarred hands trace the memorial etched into a scarred chest in methodical patterns of fingertips and blunt fingernails in equal measure. Law's eyes lose focus so easily it would almost be embarrassing if he had the presence of mind to acknowledge it. The touches trace and tease higher and higher- a squeeze to lean pectorals before thumbs trace the subtle notches of a sternum pushing through inked skin, up and up before those hands close on Law's throat. The grip tightens, cruel and holy, and Law's voice cracks around the cook's name like a dying man asking for forgiveness.
"God you're so fucking pretty like this.", hisses Sanji, squeezing just a little tighter before he releases; before those hands move away from Law's neck to travel back down.
Law's head turns, slowly stupefied when fingernails drag teasingly light over the captain's abdomen to watch the flesh shiver and Law's chest to jump with shaky breaths. Sanji hums- pleased at the position he has his favorite sadist in- before the sound of movement and the blessedly merciful sound of jeans being unbuttoned and unzipped. The cook lets off a soft laugh as Law's hips buck almost desperately, as Law gasps while Sanji traces a single finger down over the slice of the captain's pelvis exposed by the now loose denim.
"Heaven's probably out of reach...", muses the wicked thing calling himself a cook, "Guess I'll have to ride you t'hell, huh?"
“Fuck, please?”, Law manages to say, his voice strangled even in it’s honeysoft tone; the usual bite of his words gentled by the sand-rough edge of desperate hunger.
“Oh, now it’s please, hm?”, hums Sanji, “...What a good boy, being so polite.”
And Sanji’s eyes close momentarily when he hears the brainless moan that oozes from the bottom of Law’s burned-church ribcage.
[“You should let me tie your hands up.”, Sanji says easily one day- a while after the discovery of the rosary.
Law snorts a laugh, “I don’t much feel like involving seastone in our bedroom activities.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t use seastone.”, purrs Sanji at Law’s ear before nuzzling just under the golden hoops decorating it.
The sound of the rosary’s beads tapping together is a loud chime in the quiet room as he dangles it in front of the captain.
“Lemme show you God, mon cher.”]
Law’s breathing was erratic, shaky and hoarse already as he felt Sanji’s hands still teasing him, still taunting him with unmarred touches and uncalloused fingers. His back pushed into an arch again when he felt those hands ease his dick from the confines of his pants, caressing rigid and hot flesh and rubbing a thumb carefully around more golden jewelry punched through the skin like the marks of a pious man’s penance.
“Sometimes I can’t help but wonder- do you pierce yourself for the pain or the pleasure?”
“Mboth-”, stutters the captain and Sanji laughs- rising up on his knees to pat over the desk for lubricant he had set aside during his cruel teasing of a man named Death. Law thudded a bootheel against the floor at the loss of touch- letting a growl bubble up from just under the bronchi leading to his lungs before a slick hand gripped tight and stroked slow- Law’s mouth fell open, voice silenced like a saint’s entombed bones as amber eyes fluttered unfocused and he turned his head to bury it against his arm- instinctual little sounds breaking free once he was able to pull a full breath into his shivering lungs.
He forces his eyes to focus- just long enough for him to move his head and glance down to where Sanji kneels in sacramental nakedness with slick hands working Law’s aching cock. Law’s voice rises in pitch, hips rocking against his will and control to thrust into the cook’s firm grip and the captain’s abdomen aches from the winding tension in the musculature.
[“Lemme show you God, mon cher.”]
“F-Fuck, Sanji PLEASE-”
“You sound delicious when you beg. Do it again.”
“PLEASE!”
Sanji hums his approval, tightening his grip on the upstroke to pull Law’s shaky voice free in a drawn out moan before he lets go of the captain’s twitching cock. He watches Law pant into the open air, glancing up to the hands that flex and shake but remain still and bound against the floor. And the cook smiles, divine and almost merciful as he traces a fingertip over the head of Law’s cock thoughtfully.
“Next time, I wanna give you head with your hands bound like that.”, he says, his voice gentle and cruel, “And I want you to say those prayers while I do. I want you to talk to God when I swallow you.”
Law’s entire body shudders hard- opalescence leaks form Law’s cock and Sanji feels something writhe behind his ribs like it could tear free, like it could swallow the lust-weakened captain in a single bite and finally fill the gaps left by starvation in the multiplicative.
And then Sanji moves to kneel over Law’s cock, leans back just enough to guide it into a stretched and waiting hole- sighs hot and pleased as he slowly works himself onto it with slow rolls and rocks of his hips.
And oh, the way Law’s eyes roll back and his jaw falls slack makes him wish his teeth were sharp enough to chew the veins out of the man’s neck.
Sanji rides Law slow, almost tortuously slow. The sound of skin against haphazardly bunched denim from where Sanji had just pushed the jeans as out of the way as he cared to; the way Law’s boots thudded against the floor as he tried to find traction even as his mind went blank and drifted away like a fine mist- like the red cloud left from a bullet to the temple.
[Let me show you God.]
“Come on- pray to me.” hisses Sanji, dropping down hard and grinding against the sprawled Captain, relishing the choked noises Law gave up in place of the low hums and moans he graced the cook with when Sanji relinquished control with foggy blue eyes and the taste of a handrolled cigarette on his tongue, “Fucking pray to me, Law- Tell me I’m better than your God.”
[Let me be your God.]
“F-Fuck- fuck you are, you know that, gghk-”, Law gags on his words, thrashing gently and shaking his head back and forth before he pressed his head against the floor and arched under the cook, “Saints be damned you’re better, y-you’re better fuck f-fuck don’t stop-”
“Good boy.”, snarled Sanji, eyes alight, “Now beg.”
[Let me be your new God.]
“Please- Christ alive please, please-!”
Sanji leans back with a laugh, the sound underscored by bootheels clicking crooked against the floor as sacred hands brace on Law’s thighs and Sanji rides with purpose- with a vindictive intent that would make the Devil proud.
Sanji watched as Law’s words devolved into his mothertongue before syllables scattered like spilled communion and the captain was reduced to near animalistic noises- hands curled into pale-knuckled fists as the pitch and tone of his moans rose higher and higher and Sanji’s eyes burned ice cold.
[Make me your God.]
Law howled, body shuddering and writhing as Sanji dropped down hard for a final time; the chef biting at his own lower lip to silence his voice as he felt Law’s cock throb inside of him. Blonde hair falls like a feathered halo as Sanji sighs happily and lets his head hang back as he rocks his hips- as Law shudders and gasps beneath him.
The cook nearly purrs when he looks at Law again, seeing the man’s lips shiny with saliva and trembling from the aftershocks of sensation.
“Catch your breath, surgeon.”, purrs the cook, “You still have a sacrament to swallow for me.”
Law’s half-focused and barely open eyes slowly glances down as the captain cranes his neck carefully to be able to look at the vision astride his hips- sees the aching red of the head of Sanji’s dick and a shiver races over Law’s spine.
He licks moan-damp lips.
“Glory be to my New God, I suppose.”