A/N: Thanks all, for reading my last story, 'The Long Run'. I left some stuff going in that fic, but they'll be resolved in this one. I had to do a lot of changing and rearranging to make it fit, and it'll go a little more slowly (less updates) than the last fic. But I'm super excited for the confrontations i have planned in this fic. I'm way more excited about writing more of the DQ family than I am about my established couple, haha - i'm such a sucker for action scenes, it ruins my life.

A/N2: TBH, i never even heard of the particular pairing that I established for a moment in this one - thanks to those that put it out there! It changed a lot of things, haha

Part One

The saloon was a large one. The town was located on a rocky mountain that boasted of a tree heavy landscape, the mountains in the distance overcrowding the skyline. The humidity was sticky, the wildlife was loud, and even though the town was small, it was a popular traveler's rest stop. It had all the necessities – an open market, a couple of taverns, a few hostels, and the Skypiea River that crossed through from the north down to the south ocean boasted of river ferries that would take a traveler into whatever destination they desired. The river was nearly a mile wide across, rushing with heavy action, sweeping through rocky banks and threatening towns that sat too close to it.

It had been a few weeks since Dracule Mihawk had seen Shanks, who practically begged him to help his former protégée, Monkey D. Luffy. Luffy was an apparent leader of a group of bandits named the Strawhats, who'd made a name for themselves in recent weeks in a spectacular showdown against the West's Marines. The shootout had meant to wipe out the group growing with surprising strength – all of them thrown together in a rag tag bunch from various backgrounds. Shanks had supplied him with some information, and Wanted posters.

Luffy was a charismatic 'simpleton' with surprising fighting prowess that caused grown men to fall before him, no matter their size, age or experience. He was hard-headed, loved a challenge, found justice in his own way, and had a soft spot for those that crossed his path. He'd met Shanks in a small town from the Northeast, where Shanks had fallen for a woman that worked in a restaurant he frequented whenever he was in town. The kid was an orphan with aspirations, who dreamed of living out an adventure he'd only experienced in books read to him by anyone with patience. How he wound up this far away from home on an adventure only formed by dreams was something Mihawk didn't care for.

Roronoa Zoro was a foreigner who wound up in the country by mistake – Mihawk himself had met the dangerously angry man straight off a boat, where he'd stowed away on some accident, ended up killing everybody because of some wrong doing, and somehow made it to the south east coast on a raft. It truly was a mystery how the man had not died crossing the oceans as he had, so far from his native country. But he carried three swords, and Mihawk, a swordsman himself, had been interested. The man was too angry to teach, but he had some respect for the older man, and a few months of living together had taught Mihawk enough to know that Zoro still had much potential in being his equal. Their separation had been an amicable one – the last Mihawk had heard, Zoro had found his way back from the northern continent, and the next he was with Luffy, traveling through the east coast.

Sanji Blackleg – his Wanted picture was not the man himself, Shanks had warned him – was the next pickup in Luffy's travels. He worked in a pleasure house in the large Eastern city, Dressrosa, and Shanks confessed he wasn't clear on the details, but Luffy met the man and blew up the house behind them. Sanji's name was based on his kicking ability – Mihawk had seen the bodies himself. The foot imprint in a man's skull had impressed him.

Ussop was a former Marine sniper that was next on their list – he was the closest to Luffy's age, ready to depart to the South, but his engineering ability was as equally impressive to his sniping ability. Ussop had a rather distinguishing feature – a long nose. He was nicknamed 'Pinnochio' for awhile. The sighting genius was capable of picking off a man from long ranges, from impossible angles. He was quite a troublemaker himself, getting the crew in small fights that were often ridiculous, but Shanks admitted that Luffy was the same way.

Nami was a gambler from the south, and the possible mastermind. She was the only female in the group who navigated the Strawhats through hostile territories, performed negotiations with territory lords, and conned any wealthy man in her path into giving up all his riches. She was a swindler, and she wasn't shy about obtaining her riches – money disappeared within her reach, and gambling halls had her picture posted, banning her from the grounds. Nami was the one Luffy consulted most, and while Shanks didn't understand why her bounty wasn't higher, she was the one the group relied on to get them to the West coast.

Tony Chopper was a nine year old the group 'stole' from a farm in their travels. He was just a kid taken from a strong tuberculosis controlled region, and had no known connections to any of the Strawhats. If he were sighted, then the Strawhats were no doubt nearby, as he was always in the company of one of them.

Eustass Kidd was a bandit of his own making with his own crew, but somehow, the massive magnetic weapons master had gotten caught up with the Strawhats in the shootout, and had been with them since. He was brazen with his bank robberies, stagecoach stoppages, and had no qualms in making his presence quiet. The man wanted a strong reputation, and while he had it, Shanks thought that Kidd's presence with the Strawhats meant he was up to something.

Trafalgar Law was their latest addition, and a surprising one at that. He was a known member of the Donquixote family, the Surgeon of Death. The media labeled sociopath had been raised by Doflamingo and Rosinante Donquixote themselves – educated in the medical field, spoiled with money and power, and had suddenly vanished three years ago. The rumors were that a rival had caught up and done away with the so-called Surgeon, who participated in torture and unwilling survival of Doflamingo's enemies. But when his name popped up after the battle with the Marines, the media had been curious to Doflamingo's response. When it came to that family's power and reach, the atrocities Law had performed back then, there had been no response. He had a large bounty, and he was Wanted like the rest of them. Shanks figured Doflamingo's power would reach Law sooner than any government or Marine controlled grasp could. The reasoning behind his disappearance had not been known, not even by Shanks.

The last one, with only Shachi above an artist's rendering of a smiling man with his eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses, was a true mystery – not much was known about him, but he'd served as a bartender in Loguetown, responsible for stealing a locomotive. But he wasn't to be discounted – the man was an excellent fighter and often backed up the others. Shanks had mentioned that this man lingered mainly around Law, so Mihawk was to expect that perhaps he, too, served the family back East.

The ragtag group was steadily moving their way West – to see the damn ocean, for all odd intent after such a name made for themselves – and Shanks had wanted Mihawk to cover their backs as they traveled through the area. This was only a single favor Mihawk felt he was going to return for Shanks. It seemed simple enough.

Mihawk had planned on living the rest of his life in peace within the isolated silence of the unexplored and unclaimed territories, until Shanks tracked him down. He figured if Shanks had exerted that much effort to do so, Mihawk would treat it seriously.

The saloon was overly crowded – it was nice weather, the late summer sun dropping steadily, allowing the open market to take on later hours, so the outside was bustling with activity. Being surrounded by so many people made Mihawk extra cautious, but no one took a second glance at him. He was a tall male in all black, wearing a black jacket with floral lining, an open 'vee' shirt tucked into fitting black jeans, a black wide brim hat with a silver and turquoise hat band, his fingers covered with silver rings. The heels of his boots were silver as well, clacking heavily over the wood floors. The sword on his back was holstered on the inside of his jacket, the material slack enough to allow for easy and quick unsheathing. Most of his opponents didn't know he had a sword until it was too late.

He scanned the faces at the bar, looking for anybody that fit the description of the Wanted posters he had. He knew the Strawhats were in the area – there was a town they'd left behind that had been freed from a corrupt Marine general that had been terrorizing the population with high taxes and impossible tasks. After his fall, the town had taken on its independence with a vengeance, possibly inspired by the Strawhats to do better for themselves.

As he reached the bar, the barkeep hastily set down a full pint of beer, turning away to look at the din. The tables were full, the activity high, and none of the people there looked twice in his direction. Until he turned to leave, and a woman pushed up against him with a surprised flutter of body and hands.

"I'm so sorry, sir!" she tittered, blushing as she pulled her hand away from his bared chest. Her long, orange hair was pulled up in tendrils around her pretty face, her long lashes batting with embarrassed action. Her beauty was natural and slightly exaggerated with light rouge, but she knew men wouldn't be looking her in the face to appreciate that beauty – her chest was expertly plumped and nearly spilling from a tight emerald green bodice, her average height holding firm to a slender, pleasing form.

She already had men staring at her, visibly admiring the view of her chest. She smelled of citrus and musk, and when she looked at Mihawk, her lashes fluttered again.

Without a word, he lifted his hand, palm up. She blushed again, and reached up to take his hand, showing off neatly groomed nails. He leaned and kissed her knuckles. "You're forgiven."

"Oh, kind sir, you are much too gentlemanly to be of these parts," she said, holding a foreign fan to her face and lightly fluttering it. "I'm traveling to my mother's house, up north, near the border, and only stopped in for the evening. I was hoping to find some company for the hour. I'm curious about the area's gem mining, and was hoping to find a spot amongst the unclaimed ridges, around here."

" 'Gems'? Not gold?" Mihawk asked curiously.

"Gold is such a competitive sport, nowadays, and everyone's looking to get rich quick, but they're forgetting about their own lives in the process. Much of this area is so isolate, rugged, and there's too many disappearances associated with it. I'm looking for a more, um, safer extension of the rock mining," she said, lowering the fan to flutter near her bosom.

"There is a man just up the road, in the trading post. He knows more about the gems in the area than I do," Mihawk said. "If you'd like, I can escort you there."

"Ah, I was just there, and the humidity is atrocious," she exclaimed, reaching up to her hair with a light pat. "I don't intend on going back out there, especially when it's getting late. I'm just a lady on my own."

She then wiped her fingers over the curves of her chest, causing them to bounce slightly. When she noticed that his expression hadn't wavered in the slightest, she gestured at the bar. "Come. Let me buy you a drink. You look parched."

"It is the other way around, m'lady. You, yourself, look as if you'd just crawled out of some dusty coach. Your shoes still have a ring of dust commonly found in the southwestern part of this territory on the toe – your day of travel on the river must've been a long one."

She fanned herself again, then told the barkeep, "Buy this man anything he wants. Put it to my tab."

She winked at him and sauntered away, greeting a few hungry faced men with a titter.

Mihawk frowned ever so slightly, then gave his order to the man with a handlebar mustache. He took a few moments to find the bottle, then pour into a glass he hadn't even cleaned, first. Mihawk gave him a look of revulsion, causing him to fumble and drop the glass behind the counter. The other barkeep barked an order, and Mihawk turned away from the counter because it was obviously too much of a hassle.

He caught sight of the man in that moment – he was leaning over the counter talking to another, who was obviously enamored of him, offering him a drink. But the way he turned to walk away had the older man pinned in place. It was the eye contact, the way he carried himself that caused Mihawk to look after him. When he made his way through the din, disappearing for a brief moment, Mihawk went to take a seat in the back of the room to observe for a few minutes.

He had just settled back when the man returned, and he was carrying a couple of glasses and a bottle of wine. Mihawk watched him as he set one glass before him. "An imported '54 red," he said, in a smooth voice, loud enough to be heard over the roar of laughter and voices, and just low enough so that only Mihawk heard him. He waited for Mihawk to sample the amount he'd poured, and the older man had to approve.

"I haven't seen you around these parts, stranger," he said, smiling over the glass. "It's nice to come across someone that approves of finer flavors."

"You don't find this type here in these parts. It's too refined," Mihawk said, taking another appreciative sip of the wine. "Please, take a seat."

"Thank you." He poured himself a glass, and refilled Mihawk's cup. Mihawk ran his eyes over the other man – he wore a black Stetson style hat, but his hair was golden colored, hanging over one side of his face. His features were fine, his skin well kept. He wore a flowery pink shirt with a black vest, with fitted black pants that showed off impossibly long legs and boots that looked as if they were well kept. The way he carried himself, with so much confidence and prose, was different from the other men lingering in the saloon.

He knew what he looked like, and he seemed to flaunt it like a challenge. It definitely caught Mihawk's attention. The other man also looked him in the eye, and it wasn't with an aggressive stare, or a flowery appraisal – he knew why Mihawk allowed him to sit. He knew exactly what he was doing as he lifted the glass to his lips, maintaining eye contact the whole time.

"A little bold, aren't you?" Mihawk finally asked.

"Out here in these parts, one has to be. Otherwise, their catch slips away."

"Your clothing tells me you're not from these parts."

"I'm looking for a new territory to explore. Where I'm from, the observation was a little too stifling, and I couldn't fit in."

"A normal family life was out of the question? For a man such as yourself?"

"Sometimes, a man can't fit that normal family life." Mihawk watched him as those grey blue eyes coursed over him, taking in his features, moving over his exposed flesh. Then the glass was lifted again, but not without a knowing smirk. "I think you know exactly what I mean."

"And if I do?"

"I'm in room twelve. I'll leave the door unlocked. You look like a man that likes his men fresh and clean. Bring this up with you," he said, leaving the bottle as he left the table.

For a few minutes, Mihawk sat there. He could smell the other man. It was spicy and clean and it reminded him of something, but he just couldn't place it at the moment. He sat back in his chair and enjoyed the rest of his wine in silence, looking out the nearby window with some thought. Then he grabbed the bottle and went looking for the staircase.

: :

Sure enough, the room was unlocked. When he walked in, he saw that the room was spacious and neat, and there was a candle burning on the nightstand. It smelled woodsy. But it illuminated enough to showcase the bed, the windows shut to keep the noise outside out there. Mihawk heard the sound of water, and turned a corner to see the exquisite man in the single bathtub within a very small bathroom, smoking and enjoying the suds that frothed over the edge of the tub.

He liked the appearance of strong shoulders and a defined chest, with a promise of abs disappearing in the soapy water. The way his arms looked, curved with muscle tone with slender wrists, added nice definition to the man's body. Mihawk appreciated when a man looked like a man, and was not feminized with little definition and loose toning.

The blond tipped his hat up, smiling at him. One foot appeared over the edge of the tub, away from Mihawk, displaying a leg with beautifully shaped calves, strong ankles and an arched foot. Even his toes were perfect.

"How much?" he asked shortly.

"I would say I'd be insulted," the blond said with a languid sprawl against the back of the tub, "but then I'd be discrediting myself. It'd be everything you have on you. The jewels, the money, even that coat. I like that coat."

"None of its for sale."

"I wasn't intending on buying any of it," came a familiar voice behind Mihawk, as a shotgun pressed against his back, and he stilled, frowning.

"Hands up, grandpa, you perv. How in the world could you bypass all this just for some of that?" the woman asked impatiently, pushing the barrel up against his back. The room door opened, and the barkeep was coming in as well, shotgun lowered.

"Hey, c'mon, anybody can fall for a pretty face!" the blond in the tub complained, exhaling smoke towards the ceiling. Water sloshed to the floor as he wiggled uncomfortably. "Young, old, it doesn't matter. They all fall for me in the end."

"Har, har. I said, hands up!"

"Nami, switch me spots," the barkeep said impatiently, his handlebar mustache slipping to the side. Looking at him now, Mihawk recognized that his curly hair was pulled into a thick ponytail, thin braids popping out here and there, and his nose was long. That mustache had been rather sizable to throw off the cartoonish length.

Mihawk chose not to show any expression, but he felt a huge sigh leave him. He moved to reach into his jacket pocket to retrieve the Wanted posters when both guns pressed into him with warning.

"Ussop, frisk him. Grab all those stones. They're going to look prettier on me!" Nami said cheerfully. "Sanji, out of the tub! You're going to get all wrinkly!"

"This is the last time I get to play in a tub for awhile! I'm so sick of the damn river!" Sanji complained, splashing around before turning and hanging over the edge with a wide grin. "Come in here, Nami, and enjoy it with me. Ussop can handle the rest."

"No way! We can't be taking baths while we're robbing people! Our closet is filling up, this is the last one!" Nami said, glancing behind her. There were three other men tied and gagged, all of them with frightened expressions, all of them missing their valuables and pieces of clothing.

"This is rather rude of you," Mihawk then said, hands up to his shoulders and giving Ussop an impatient look as the teen pressed the gun against his chest. "Remove that from my person, and I won't remove your hands."

"He's talking tough to me! Trying to intimidate the both of you, but don't worry – I got this, guys," Ussop said, but his brave words weren't reflected on his face.

Sanji pulled himself from the tub with a grumble, straightening his hat as he looked Mihawk over. He was wearing a pair of loose cotton pants that were rolled up the calves and hung low on the hips. It took Mihawk a few moments to realize he was wearing a pair of woman's pantaloons. Dripping wet, he walked up to the other man, and blew smoke in his face, as Nami patted and removed all of Mihawk's valuables from his coat. "It's too bad. I'm into older men."

Ussop gave a forced laugh, squatting just slightly to keep his knees from wobbling. The man they chose to rob had a very intense expression that never seemed to change, even with guns pointed at him. "Hurry up, guys. We've been gone long enough."

Nami counted out the bank notes she found, whistling with glee. She stuffed it all into her bra, then started stuffing the rings, necklace and hatband into the folds of her dress. She kicked the heel of one boot with hers. "Even those, old man. What size are those?"

"Elevens."

"Zoro won't wear them," Ussop said.

"It's too bad, it'd give him some height to fit that short man complex he has going on," Sanji said.

"Put some clothes on, man!"

"As amusing as this has been, I'm going to have to stop you there," Mihawk said to Nami, as she reached for the cross that he wore. "That piece you're going for is of significant value to me. I'm afraid I'll have to react if you ignore my warning."

"Well, 'react', then," she said, fingers clasped around the piece.

It happened quickly – he sidestepped and shifted to the left of Nami, using her as cover against Ussop's shotgun. The woman automatically ducked to avoid his hands, and Sanji twisted up in a combination high and low kick that would have taken Mihawk's head back if he didn't pull back at the same time. Nami hit the floor, but twisted towards him, intending on hitting him with the shotgun like it were a bat, and Sanji caught himself with one foot against the wall, somersaulted up, and brought his shin down on Mihawk's shoulder as he reached for his sword.

With a slight hiss, he withdrew the black blade, and had it whipping around himself just to cause all three of them to back up. Before the movement even settled, Ussop fired at him, the shotgun blast noisy and strong. Their three faces reflected victory because of the proximity – but Mihawk's expression still hadn't changed, and his sword was still swinging.

The scattershot went no where, and by the time the trio realized it, Mihawk was already swiping the blade around, intending on at least marking them so they'd learn a harsh lesson.

But before his blade could touch any of them, there were three that stopped his swing in mid-movement, their fourth party knocking both Ussop and Sanji to the side like bowling pins. Nami shrieked because she was looking at the black blade just a breath from her chest, which she pulled in and scooted away with a panicked expression.

"You idiots!" Zoro snarled, barely holding Mihawk's blade up. Only he knew just how close they'd been to disfigurement, and he recognized that his mentor was holding back. "What the fuck were you thinking?"

Mihawk was amused at seeing the man again – he was wearing head to toe black, with a loose cotton shirt tucked into calf baring pants, feet laced into split toed shoes that must have been uncomfortable with the rocky terrain. The green sash he wore hung low at the hip, and the black hat and bandanna covered much of his unusual green hair. He'd put on some muscle since the last he'd seen him, looking much healthier and a lot less angry, but covered with more scars.

"He didn't look dangerous! You got this, then?" Nami asked him.

"Sensei, I apologize for them. They're brain damaged," Zoro then said to Mihawk visibly straining. Ussop gaped because he could hear the vibration of the swords' metal clinking together. Mihawk had such a casual stance that it looked as if Zoro was only putting on the hold for show. "They don't know of you."

Sanji rolled his eyes to the ceiling, trying to remember what that particular word meant. Then he snapped his fingers. "Teacher! Oh, this is the guy that trained you?"

He couldn't help but lean over Zoro's shoulder with his chin to say close to his ear with a smirk, "And what else did he train you in? Hmm?"

Zoro elbowed him back with a furious expression. "Get your damn clothes on, you fucking harlot."

"Zoro!" Nami asked impatiently. "Why weren't you here, sooner? Ussop! Grab the bag!"

"First off, you're Zoro's trainer?" Ussop asked Mihawk curiously, as Nami went for the burlap sack herself near the closet, grumbling. "I thought you guys met back east? What are you doing way out here?"

"Shanks sent me," Mihawk answered patiently. Seeing that Zoro was struggling to hold his blade aloft, he withdrew his sword.

"Shanks?" Nami, Sanji and Ussop repeated.

"We thought he got picked off in town!" Nami said. "When the fire broke out!"

"He wouldn't die that easily, unfortunately," Mihawk said, almost with a scoffing tone. He looked at Zoro. "I will need to meet with all of you. Is there a place where you all are residing?"

Zoro looked at the three men in the closet, all of whom looked scared out of their minds once they realized what they were seeing. He turned in their direction, face shifting into something dark before Mihawk stopped him, hand on his shoulder.

"Killing them won't do. Your friends are only robbing them. Let them go."

"I don't want them knowing where we're located," he growled.

"Then wait downstairs. I trust you to convince your friends to listen in to what I have to say," Mihawk told him, lifting one wrist and pointing it at Sanji. "Except for you. You stay."

"What? Why?" Sanji asked with a slight edge of panic.

"You and I will need to have a talk about your behavior."

"Sensei, that's not necessary, he knows he's a whore."

"If you'll excuse us," Mihawk then said to him firmly, gesturing at the door. Nami and Ussop looked at Sanji with worry, whose face had dropped as he looked at Zoro for assistance. Zoro looked at him, making a grimace that looked rather embarrassed. He looked away from Sanji with a somewhat helpless gesture.

"No, all of us will go together, we'll listen to you," Nami said, as Sanji hastily found his clothes and boots near the dresser by the bathroom, and put them on over his wet pants. "We don't leave anybody behind!"

"Zoro."

With a frustrated expression, Zoro looked at Sanji, then the others. Sanji's expression clearly said for him not to leave him alone with the man, the others looking worried, and all of them knew why they didn't want to leave without him. But Zoro was torn between his own respect for the older man and his friend, and it showed on his face.

Mihawk touched his shoulder with the tip of his blade. "Your hesitation is starting to irritate me. As I've said, I need to talk to all of you regarding Shanks. We'll meet you downstairs after I'm done."

Zoro continued to stand there, fingers clenched tight on his swords. Just looking at him had Sanji swallowing hard, reading the situation. The hesitation the man made touched him. While it had been appreciated thus far, Sanji felt capable of taking care of himself without his crew mate losing his pride – or life - in front of another man he respected.

"It'll be fine," Sanji then said tightly. "Just go downstairs and make sure we're not disturbed. All right? It shouldn't take that long."

"Not 'long' indeed."

"Sanji," Ussop said with hesitation, as Nami threw the burlap sack over one shoulder.

"Make it quick," she told her friend, before leading the way out. Sanji was aghast at how quickly she was to leave when she had her treasure in hand, and Ussop left with her. Zoro looked at him with a measure of doubt, then looked at Mihawk.

With frustration clear on his features, he turned and left the room, closing the door behind him. Mihawk looked at Sanji, who looked at him with a great deal of tension, not looking like the man he was earlier. With the flat of his blade, he shut the closet door so the three roped inside could no longer see what was to happen. Then he pointed at the bed, and Sanji just stood there, frozen solid, thoughts of panic running through his mind.

"Bend over. You may use that pillow to muffle your voice, if you like," Mihawk told him, starting to smile devilishly.

"Look, obviously we were just planning on robbing you, it wasn't anything serious - !" Sanji tried to say, feeling his toes curling with anxiety. He wasn't ready for this. His mind was still damaged by the rape in the cave, and while he'd convinced himself that he was 'okay', he suddenly found himself struck stiff with fear at being expected to perform anyway.

Mihawk stepped up to him, and Sanji could smell the leather he wore, the wine he'd accepted. He looked up at the older man with extreme nervousness because those eyes were something else – they looked as if they missed nothing. He swallowed tightly, then started at the feel of the man's hand on his back. His skin crawled, detesting the sensation of another man's hands on him.

Reluctantly, he turned to the bed, feeling his shoulders stiffen and his fingers clench over his boots. Feeling the other man follow him, he grit his teeth. Then he stabbed his cigarette out on the bed post and tossed the filter, turning to give Mihawk a shitty look.

"Pants off. You know how it is," Mihawk told him, dropping his eyes to watch Sanji do so.

With a set frown, Sanji followed his instructions, feeling minutely aware that the men inside the closet could hear everything. His ears burned with humiliation, and his heart thudded loudly as he bent over the bed, hearing the other man step up close to him. The tips of his boots touched Sanji's bare heels, and he grit his teeth again, feeling himself tense up.

He wanted to call out for Zoro to come back. He felt like throwing himself out the window. But he held firm, thinking that none of the men in the group would turn and run from a situation – other than Ussop, but Ussop always turned back to fight from a distance. If he continued to let the others fight a battle for him, he couldn't continue to feel like a man capable of standing alongside the others. And for that, he couldn't bear to continue.

He looked over his shoulder at the other man, who noted the change in Sanji's form.

"Let's see what you've got. You're that eager to give it to me, you better not disappoint me," Sanji said low, taking on a position that caused Mihawk some pause just to appreciate the view. He reached back to stroke one cheek, to show off what he had. "With all that flair, you'd better have what it takes to make me make it worth your while."

"Aren't you the dangerous one?" Mihawk murmured, reaching in to cover Sanji's hand with his, before pushing it away altogether. "No wonder you're looking for a so-called 'father figure'. It's obvious no one has punished you enough so that you know your boundaries."

"What are you going to do? Can I move that mirror over there so I can watch you?"

"There's no need for that. You'll know right away what I'm doing to you. Now, take that pillow to you, as I've instructed. I have a feeling you're a vocal man. Let's try not to arouse the neighbors next door."

Sanji rolled his eyes, but he did grab the pillow. He didn't care who heard. He felt Mihawk's other hand on the top of his back, fingers curling in over his shoulder. His palm swept down the length of his back, lingering near the top of his ass cheeks. Then moved back up, tracing along the rigid muscles there, briefly twirling the lines of his shoulder blades. Then his fingers were going through his hair, and Sanji had to fight the urge to throw that hand away from him.

"Aren't you exquisite?" Mihawk murmured, just a trace of an accent in his words. "A fine balance of beauty and strength. All the right muscles in all the right places, all the soft spots equally as tempting."

Sanji crinkled his brow to try and place that accent as he felt the man's hand leave his hair, sliding back down the length of his spine, fingers tracing the curve of his ass before palming one cheek. Then the hand was gone, returning very briefly with terrible force, and he was jolted into such surprise that he did cry out. Once he realized the man had spanked him, he looked back with outrage.

"That's for the tease, earlier."

Another swat, almost in the same place, had Sanji grasping the bed with another sound. The sting was terrible, and it was not expected, and his system burned hotly for a moment before Mihawk swatted him again.

"Those two are for involving your friends."

Another one had his eyes stinging, and he cried out with pain, losing that earlier cool he had. "That's for even challenging me in the first place. Ah. Does it hurt?"

"You fucking cocky bastard, yes, it hurts!"

Another one had Sanji curling leg, arching his back. "That's for talking back. Have we learned our lesson?"

Breathing shortly, Sanji looked at the man thoroughly, very confused and startled to see that Mihawk was only messing with him. His expression hadn't changed, nor was there any indication that the man was getting hard – there was no sign of arousal in that face at all. He reached back and grabbed the man's crotch, growing furious when nothing happened to switch his expression at that.

So he let go and sneered, "I'm good for another round. You look tired. You want to take a nap, first, gramps?"

Mihawk's lips curled with a slight smile, but he withdrew from the man, and unbuckled his belt.

Outside the door, Zoro muttered, shaking his head with some mortification and a red face, walking away.

: :

"I'm not going to walk right for a week," Sanji grumbled, walking tenderly while Nami and Ussop looked at him with horror. "At the end of it, I wasn't sure if I felt punished not to do it again, or if I should've asked for a smoke, afterward. He wasn't even hard - he wasn't even doing it to be sexual, but at the same fucking time it was! I'm so confused."

"I'm so embarrassed," Zoro muttered from a short distance behind them. His face and ears were a bright red, and he couldn't make eye contact with anybody.

"Shut up! You're embarrassed? Why are you embarrassed?" Sanji yelled back at him before lighting up with an angry expression. But his face was equally as red.

"I forgot how goddamn perverted he was!"

Nami roared with laughter, the sound echoing off the trees around them. The four were walking back to their 'hideout', carrying with them her treasure, Ussop some food supplies, Zoro some material things, and Sanji holding his ass.

The evening had fallen, and the stars were visible just beyond the treetops. The Skypiea River rang with magnificent grandeur nearby, and their only light was the moon that rose slowly overhead. The call of owls and other night life shifted on and off, the narrow pathway belonging only to travelers on foot that moved from one small spread to another within the area.

"How were we supposed to know who this guy was, anyway?" Nami asked Zoro impatiently. "You never talk about that part of your life! You never talk about anything!"

"I talk enough. I didn't think I'd see him again, to be honest. I should be dead, by now."

"You will be," Sanji promised him.

"Don't talk to me, little perv."

Ussop had to laugh. "Sanji, honestly! I mean, I get it, but to egg him on? Like, what's wrong with you?"

"I couldn't help it! It's a man to man, thing. I can't talk about it to virgins, you wouldn't know."

"I am not!"

Nami had to laugh again. "Well, to be honest, I'm glad he chose you. I don't think I can do that. I'm just a shy, modest, little girl. I've never heard of that sort of thing ever happening!"

Sanji snatched the book she'd given him weeks ago, the one with the bullet holes that she kept close to her. "This spoke up and told me you lie!"

She laughed again, snatching it out of his hand to flip through it. Reading aloud, she shared one of the smuttiest passages in there, Ussop blushing.

"This stuff is available to ladies?" he asked vaguely.

"With a carrot?" Zoro asked, horrified.

"You never did toy play?" Sanji asked him curiously. "Swords don't count. Maybe next time I'll bring something to the bed and show you."

"That is some of the most wrongest things I've ever heard so far, today," Ussop mumbled.

As both men grappled briefly, Zoro tossing Sanji into some brush nearby, Nami put the book back where it belonged; inside of her bodice, close to her heart. She laughed again, looking at the road ahead of them. Their camp was coming up, soon, and she couldn't wait to tell the others of their latest adventure. She knew that they could hear them coming, because Luffy's voice rang out through the trees, telling them to hurry up.