I'm Yours

Mihawk/OC One Shot

Set before the timeskip, when Strawhats are visiting Roguetown.

Disclaimer: Explicit sexual content to follow. Please read at your discretion. (I tried to make it as tasteful as possible, considering my...other fanfic lol)

Author's Note: Hi! This is my baby I've been planning, writing, scrapping all together, then planning again, and then writing for… probably over 8 years now. *sweatdrop* Yes, I'm that person! Hahaha I FINALLY just worked up the determination to finish it and I hope you enjoy it!

I stick closely to official terms used in Viz's One Piece English translation for the sake of continuity. Please note some of the following terms if you are unfamiliar:

Seven Warlord of the Sea = Shichibukai

Fusha Village = Foosha Village

And Japanese honorifics will not be used here, but the [last name], [first name] structure will be kept.

Happy reading, please leave me your thoughts!

**Edited 4/6/20 to comply with Content Guidelines

With a piece of paper in her hands, Jetta felt elated, "I can't believe it, he did it!"

She came back from a morning supply run to find her crewmates more animated than ever. In fact, these rascals started another party! Guess they forgot about the crippling hangover they were whining about before she left.

Nothing like more alcohol to get rid of the hangover, she thought sarcastically.

Then out of the corner of her eye, a bounty paper caught her attention and the smiling face brought back fond memories. Rushing to grab the paper, she studied it with surprise. She remembered the stubborn, scrawny kid from Fusha Village who stuck to Shanks like glue while they were there. Luffy was a wide-eyed kid who did not know the real dangers on the seas, but it did not seem to stop him. And she was happy to see his persistence still rang true today.

"Where did you get this bounty? The News Coo doesn't get here until tomorrow." She asked a rookie crew member—Erick, if she remembered correctly. Usually, the birds come to her since she was the treasurer.

The rookie's shoulders stiffened, as though he was even afraid to speak, and he gestures over his shoulders before bringing the mug to his lips. "It was H-Hawk-Eyes. He just showed up, out of nowhere! Went straight for the boss. He's probably still there."

Her ears perked up hearing the Warlord's name and she began to understand why he was so shaken up. "Oh? And was he as intimidating as they say?"

Her comrade nodded his head vigorously, making her chuckle. Hawk-Eyes still hasn't changed, it seemed. But what business does he have with Shanks?

While the two men couldn't be more polar opposites, they got along particularly well and even formed this unspoken camaraderie that would appear strange to any onlooker. They bonded over the clash of their swords, clearing away the earth, sea, and sky with mighty sweeps, proving these men were on another level entirely. They were remarkable to see in action and gave significance to their infamous titles.

Instructing the rest of the supply crew to unload the rest of the cargo, Jetta trotted over to the impromptu celebration happening at the center of the camp, expertly dodging the drunken fellows as she made her way past the trees and scrubs. They also seemed to have started a bonfire as well, giving everyone more reason to be up singing and dancing. However, her heart was set on finding a certain stoic individual...

"Ahhh Jeddaaa! Over herr!"

She turned her head at the sound of her name and the familiar slurred speech, and spotted Shanks and the rest of his lackeys to the side. Her captain waved her over, a boisterous grin on his face, but no sign of the esteemed guest. His face morphed into an expression of great drunken pride when he noticed the paper in her hand and grabbed Luffy's bounty.

"Yo see tee new bountee?! Look his biggg smile!" Whatever he said next was not comprehensible whatsoever. He was never someone that held his alcohol very well.

Chuckling, she nodded and took a seat on a log, watching her captain parade the bounty around like it's a gold medal. "The boy was always a tough one all right..." She recalled when Luffy took a knife to his face out of stubbornness. How much he's grown since then. She—no, everyone of the Red Hair Pirates couldn't deny how proud they felt.

Suddenly, a mug came into her peripheral view, an offering to her.

"Ah, thanks Beckman," she said in appreciation to the first mate before arching an eyebrow. "But you know, if we keep celebrating like this, I'll have to make another supply run again."

The corner of his lips curved upward as he shrugged his shoulders, looking over to their drunken leader. Even though he didn't say anything, his message was clear.

"CHEERS! To our little anchor!" Shanks, Lucky Roux, and Yasopp shouted merrily as they clacked their mugs together in a celebratory toast.

They expected nothing less of their captain.

As she slowly sips on the beer, her eyes darted over the crowd, scanning over each head and face. Hmm, I still don't see him…

Beckman coughed loudly, getting her attention. "If you're looking for Hawk-Eyes, I last saw him near the drinking table." He motioned his head to the left.

She nearly choked on her drink, a blush creeping up her cheeks. Oh geez… How embarrassing.

"Hah, sorry Beckman," she bit her bottom lip bashfully. "Was I that obvious?"

He gave her an all-knowing smile. "Well, you always had a thing for the swordsman," he said. "Didn't you?"

When he said it out loud, she wanted to slide away from existence. She never openly admitted her feelings because if the other guys knew about it, she would never hear the end of it! But Beckman was always too perceptive.

She merely shrugged her shoulders, tilting her head down to hide her timid smile, not really answering his question.

"Ummm, t-thanks for the tip!" She rushed to stand, wanting to leave before he could tease her further, raising her mug in his direction as a gesture of thanks. "Well, you always were the best wingman," she said with a wink, walking off while he shook his head in amusement.

It didn't take long for her to get to the drinking table Beckman mentioned. Just a couple meters away from the fire pit, a crowd of people surrounded a low tree stump as two men participated in a drinking competition. This was something that was bound to happen at every party.

The spectators cheered on as the participants downed their next drink, but the guy on the left was not looking so good—pale in the face and his eyes half-glazed over. The cup was half empty on his lips, and before they knew it, he crashed to the ground!

We have a winner! Cheers erupted from the spectators as the winner unsteady rose to his feet with a sense of accomplishment on his face. While there wasn't a prize, the winner would get bragging rights. What's not to love?

As they cleared the mess to prepare for the next competitors, she finally spotted the honored guest through the throngs of people. A tall, quiet man off in the distance, arms crossed with a mug in one hand as he leaned against a tree, his piercing yellow eyes observed the crowd.

One of the Seven Warlords of the Sea and also the Greatest Swordsman in the World—Dracule Mihawk. Calm and collected, he stood out from the wild party surrounding him. Then again, it would be hard not to notice the intimidating man in any setting.

Her heartbeat quickened and she suddenly felt her palms sweat. She never acted on her little crush, but with the bits of liquid courage in her, she felt a little more brazen tonight. She just needed to get her foot in the door.

Grabbing two kabobs from the food table, she approached him. Barely making it two steps in his direction and his eyes were instantly on her, and honestly, she didn't mind one bit.

"So," Jetta said as she came closer and met his powerful gaze with a smile, "is it you we have to thank for today's festivity?" Oh boy, his presence engulfed her.

Mihawk's expression does not budge. "...Hardly. He would have found out eventually even if I hadn't come today. I merely wanted to get confirmation."

"Confirmation? Haha you went out of your way to sail here when you could have just called like you always do. YoujYou wanted some free booze didn't you?" There! His eyebrows twitched. "But, your secret's safe with me," she whispered before smiling impishly, taking a sip out of her mug.

He scoffed and turned his head away from her, shielding his eyes with his hat but she swore she saw the tinest smile before it was gone like it was never there in the first place.

"Miss Reid, I see you're the same as ever."

"I'm only like this with you." When he gave her an incredulous look, she stuck her tongue out at him. It was somewhat the truth. No other person on the crew could match his frankness and lack of humor. This made him all the more fun to tease.

She leaned against the tree next to him and offered him a kabob. "Anyway, you should try this. It goes well with the beer."

It took some stick-wagging and her insisting proclamation "the kebob is not poisoned" to get him to accept the food. How can someone say no to free food?

He grasped it tentatively and watched as she ate her own, his gaze unwavering. She could melt under his gaze.

"Geez, Mihawk," she muttered, trying to distract herself from his exquisite golden eyes. "You have to eat your food and not just stare at it, you silly goose." She pushed his arm towards his mouth.

That seemed to get him going. "Thank you for the food," he murmured as he went on to consume the entire stick.

As the celebratory surroundings continued, the two of them stood together in a comfortable silence, finishing their food and watching the crowd. As she finished the rest of her kabob, a question came to mind.

"So I take it you met Luffy then? How was he doing?"

He didn't answer right away, making her look over to him, her eyebrow raised. Just as she was going to repeat, he finally replied. "You care about him."

It was more of a statement than a question, and he didn't sound too happy.

She blinked, taken back by his curt tone. "Um yeah, it's hard not to root for the boy. Even back when he was just a kid. It's that smile I tell you." A soft chuckle left her lips as she reminisced about all those years ago. "Wait, you didn't answer my question, Mihawk."

"Hmm, I see." His facial expression didn't give away anything, but his voice indicated something different. She couldn't help but tease him further.

Turning her body towards him, she flashed a mischievous smile as her eyes narrowed with mocking suspicion. "Am I detecting...jealousy?"

He looked at her as if she had grown another head. "Hardly."

"Ahh ah, that wasn't a definitive ''no". Sooo does that mean you were a little jealous just now because I was talking about another guy?"

"No," he said without hesitation, his voice deadpan, "I believe you're misreading things, Miss Reid."

She pursed her lips, shaking her head. "Hmmm, your tone indicated something different."

"The only thing you should note is my annoyance."

"Bleh, you're always annoyed at someone, so that's nothing new," she said with a laugh, waving her hand dismissively. "Just when I thought I could get a read on you. I must be losing my touch." She pouted, batted her eyelashes, and let out a dramatic sigh; however, her woeful, womanly charms didn't faze him. Figures.

He shook his head lightheartedly, not saying anything, but just barely… A ghost of a smile rested on his lips. How she just wanted to see his genuine smile.

"But…" she whispered as she reached out to get the crumb at the corner of his mouth, "If it'll reassure you, I've only got eyes on you."

Her eyes met in a silent, but intense stare. So many unspoken words exchanged, and yet nothing concrete, and unsurprisingly, his eyes gave nothing away.

"You're unlike any man I've ever met… And that should mean something given the crew I run with," she chuckled and shifted her gaze away, suddenly feeling very shy. Still, he said nothing and it made her all the more antsy.

Was she too forward…?

Biting on her lips, she pushed off the tree trunk and threw on her biggest smile, hiding the ache in her heart and quicking changing the topic. "Well, enough about that, how about we have some fun of our own and finally put to rest the score between us?"

This happened a couple years ago when everyone was celebrating just like this but at a small pub. Jetta and Mihawk were the last ones in the drinking contest, beating the other five participants. The poor owner never expected such a crowd on a weeknight and they drank the bar dry. Because of this, a winner couldn't be declared since neither one of them tapped out, and there was no more booze.

"This time, you'll finally accept that I can out drink you," she said haughtily.

Her statement caused his eyebrows to furrow with disdain. He took her bait. Nothing easier to taunt than a man's ego. "I recall during our last match, we ended in a draw."

"Hmm, really? I believe my 19 pints beats your 18 pints."

"18 and a half," he pointed out, "I got the bottom of the barrel."

She pursed her lips, thinking for a moment. "Fine, I can give you that given the circumstances. That's why we need a rematch."

Mihawk scoffed loudly, clearly thinking the idea's ridiculous, but he never shot the notion down.

"You may have roped me in last time. But, I have no interest in boasting my drinking capabilities to these hooligans." His last word gestured to the rowdy crowd in front of them. Indeed, nothing's very appealing about a large horde of drunken men gathered in a circle watching them.

"Haha, what are you talking about Mihawk?" Her voice went a little higher, eyes sparkling with delight as an idea came to her, holding his gaze steadily. "Who said we needed an audience? I want you all to myself."

Before he could respond to her cheeky comment, Jetta's hand enclosed around his and she tugged him along and guided him away, more excited than ever.

Instantly, the roughness of his hands stood out against her smooth palm, sending tingles up her arm. His calloused hands signified decades of relentless training and combat. The amount of power he could produce from these hands was insurmountable. It felt unreal to be gripping his hands so nonchalantly.

"Where are we going? I never agreed to anything," he murmured behind her. She could feel his piercing eyes bore into the back of her head.

"Oh come on! We're just going somewhere with a little more privacy. And it's just a little fun rematch, nothing to be afraid of. Besides, you said I was losing my touch—"

"You said that," he interjected.

"So…" she continued, her eyebrows waggled, looking over her shoulder, grinning, and giving his hand a small squeeze, "what better way to bring two people closer together than over drinks."

Despite his complaints, he never tried to shake her hand off, which he could undoubtedly do and leave. No questions asked. In fact, that was what she had expected. Why would a man of his stature entertain her whims?

He didn't respond, but merely gripped her hand even tighter.

A funny feeling began to bubble within her.

She brought him west towards the quiet coast where several men were still unloading the supplies on the dock. Her crew was surprised to see her, especially with the tall, formidable man she dragged behind her who was unabashedly glaring daggers at each and every one of them. She chuckled as she watched a series of convoluted expressions from her comrades. They were clearly unsure whether they should be shocked, apprehensive, or frightened, but they all managed to express an amalgamation of it all. After she gave them permission to join the party, they didn't ask any questions and left eagerly leaving them in private.

"Have a seat," she gestured to the crates that would become their makeshift table and chairs and began to peruse the barrels of liquor on the dock. "I have to apologize in advance though. We don't have any wine, which I know you'd prefer. We aren't as sophisticated as you."

He seemed to find humor in this as she noted the slight tug of his lips.

"No need. Wine wouldn't be appropriate for this rematch anyways."

"All right. How about these then?" she said as she nonchalantly chose two kegs and carefully rolled them across the deck. "So, oof, what will it be? Rum or whiskey?"

He studied the labels with interest while she took the opportunity to admire his defined profile casted in a soft orange glow from the sunset. All hard angles and fierce planes, he was a very handsome man. It was almost picturesque watching him with the scenic backdrop.

"These are from the Barbados Isles. He sure has expensive tastes," Mihawk mused.

"That's Shanks for ya." She put a hand on her hips and casually waved in response. "In fact, it took me a while to get these from those stubborn brewers. They know they're in such high demand that they won't pay attention to you unless you're swinging five bags of berries in front of their faces."

The corner of his mouth tugged up again. Almost there, Jetta. You'll see that smile before you even know it!

"Rum, then," he said.

She didn't even have to ask as he lifted the 150 pound barrel with ease and set it up on another crate so she could properly tap it open. How nice of him, she thought. Once the valve was in, she uncovered two lowball glasses from another box and filled it with the dark amber liquid. The fragrance instantly filled her nose with the spirit's earthy, potent aroma, only made possible from sitting years in a specially-made Barbados oak barrel. This was undoubtedly a spectacular brand of rum.

Taking her seat on the crate across from him, she folded her legs to the side and slid the other glass across. He nodded in thanks, bringing it up to his nose to take in the fragrance as well. Honestly, the man doesn't have many expressions but he looked somewhat pleased at the moment.

"Now," she said with an arched eyebrow, "has the mighty Mihawk ever lost to anyone before?"

His eyes swirled with ferocity at her jeering question. "You shouldn't be so reckless and underestimate your opponent, Miss Reid."

"Oh ho, I hope there's some bite behind that bark," she teased.

"You mustn't worry." He swirled the glass in his hand. "When it comes down to it, I know when to be gentle."

Her glass nearly slipped out of her hands by his off-handed remark. Damn.

She eyed him dubiously, clearing her throat bashfully. Geez, he had to know what he was insinuating right? And to say it with such a straight face while his eyes shone with mischief.

"I-If you talk like that, a lady will start getting some wrong ideas, Mihawk."

His movements never stopped and he did not answer her, making her even more curious. She would give anything to know what he was thinking at that moment.

"A-Anyway, how about a small toast before we begin?" she insisted, changing the topic and lifting her glass in his direction.

His eyebrows knitted together. "I hope you don't intend to do this before every drink."

"Well, that's a splendid idea! It'll be like our little ritual." She ignored his irked sigh and raised her hand higher. "To Luffy! For giving us another reason to celebrate!"

Her companion did not even share the slightest bit of her enthusiasm, however he softly knocked his glass against hers, completing the toast despite his unwillingness.

And off they go!

The moment the liquor touched her tongue, she grimaced loudly as the keen burn hit exponentially harder than she expected and slowly scorched its way down her throat and settled in her belly. She had already resolved to finish the first drink in one go so there was no backing out. Nonetheless, the alcohol content was significantly higher than she anticipated and she could feel her body grow flush in response.

"Hahhh!" She exclaimed as her face twisted in a pained expression, slamming her glass on the crate table. She touched her throat to see if there was a hole burning through. "Oh wow! I was not expecting that…!"

She glanced at the quiet man across from her and found that he had long finished before her. In fact, he looked incredibly straight-laced as he refilled the next round. How did it not burn him?! Just seeing his calm demeanor annoyed her. She felt like pinching his cheeks to get some sort of reaction out of him, and thankfully, thought better than to do it. She liked her fingers.

"...You still have a chance to concede if this is too much for you, Miss Reid," he said with slight pompousness as he offered her the glass.

She scoffed, snatching the glass in annoyance. "I-I was just caught off guard. I'm surprised they didn't dilute their rum, that's all."

She was busy ogling the guy, she got distracted and hadn't read the label. This must be Shank's personal stash. Ugh, yup, this was the 85% batch. Man, he is going to give her an earful when he finds out they put a large dent to his favorite spirit. Well, too late now.

Righting herself, she lifted her newly filled glass once again. "Would you like to make the toast this time?"

He arched his brows so high she could see he was thinking about mocking her but he politely declined giving her the airtime. Ooh, ho. Now, she was going to carry on with the toasts just to spite him.

Narrowing her eyebrow, she began. "All right, how about a toast tooo…my nonchalant, party-loving captain," said Jetta, "Mihawk's best pal of allllll time!" She ignored his peeved stare over her latter comment and quickly continued. "There's no one like him in the world. Cheers!"

They touched glasses again. This time she was ready for the strong kick of the alcohol, but she still struggled to keep a straight face as she downed it. Peering over the rim, she saw that the swordsman had no qualms with the hard liquor. It was like he was drinking water the way the liquid slid readily down his throat. How does he make everything look so easy, she wondered.

A drop of dark amber liquid trickled down his lips, drawing her attention. Her eyes lingered longer than it should have on the sliver of tongue that grazed the edge of his mouth and back over before retreating back inside. Casting her gaze to sway the perverse thoughts circling her mind, she gulped what remained in her glass and refilled the next round.

Time passed quickly as they continued with her silly toasts and the impromptu drinking contest. She lost count of the number of lighthearted declarations she made and spouted out the first thing that came to her mind. It ranged to her favorite pastry shop back in East Blue, Lucky Roux for being the best pal because he always ate the gross green peppers off her plate, the well-fitted denim jeans that made her butt look good, the main mast for being the greatest back scratcher, and much more. In hindsight, she might have been sharing a bit too much about herself. She would be more embarrassed if it wasn't for the rum.

After some time, she began to feel an uncomfortable twinge in her jaw—her telltale sign that her body was almost reaching its limit. She was lucky she wasn't a sloppy drunk, but she should still be careful and not make a fool of herself in front of him. She already lost count a while ago so she wasn't sure how much she got left in her. Even a heavy drinker like her had her limits.

"Hmm…" she said as she absentmindedly rubbed her aching jaw, "what number is this?"

Looking down, the swordsman counted the tally marks he carved into the corner of the makeshift crate table. "...35, 36, 37," he noted.

"Whew, that's some number for a night of drinking." Perhaps it was because she was a bit intoxicated but she couldn't stop smiling. Or perhaps it was because of the man in front of her. Or perhaps both?

She leaned forward, her hand under her chin, studying his face for the hundredth time. Just talk slower, she told herself, try and keep it together in front of this man. "You...are,"—a drop dead, sinfully sexy piece of work—"quite...the formidable opponent."

Placing his hat to the side, Mihawk ran his hand through his black hair and leisurely swirled his glass before shooting down the strong liquid in one go, closing his eyes in satisfaction. "...I can say the same goes for you as well, Miss Reid."

This must be because of the rum, but this was the most casual and relaxed she had ever seen Mihawk—unruly hair, slack shoulders, his jacket thrown open showing his chiseled muscles, a serene facial expression, eyes shut, even his eyebrows weren't knitted together for once. She found herself unable to take her eyes off of him, entranced by this new sight. Her heart raced like a wild animal ready to leap from her body.

Honestly, why was he so devilishly handsome? It should be a crime.

"You know, it's rude to stare."

Her body stiffened as his voice broke her trance, her eyes widened when his golden orbs swept open and fixated on her. She could feel a flush creeping up her face, caught in the act.

Immediately, she became defensive, blubbering. "G-Geez, you're one to talk!" She pouted out of indignity. "Don't you stare at people all the time?!"

He doesn't respond, his eyebrow raised inquisitively, merely watching her ramble on.

She squirmed as she straightened up in her seat, but didn't back down. "If...If anything, you're the king of staring! I'd say you're rubbing off on me, so...I should be reprimanding you! F-For all yo-your...staring and...staring!" She was losing her words. Her cheeks puffed out like a stubborn child.

Yeah, she sure got him… Not!

This seemed to get him chuckling, the smug man. She would have found such rare sounds to be delightful if she wasn't so flustered. Giving a dismissive wave of her hand, she averted her gaze as she refilled the glasses, trying to calm her racing heart.

However, he didn't make it easy for her when he shifted in his seat and leaned across, watching her every move like a hawk. It instantly became harder to keep cool.

Why does he have to do that...

"W-What?!" Her voice squeaked. Finally having enough, she eyed him with chagrin. "Oh, so you can stare but I can't? You're a terrible, hypocritical man." She thrusted his drink in front of his face out of spite, cutting off his line of sight.

He pushed her hand down, his eyes flickered with amusement as he arched an eyebrow. Clearly, he found her anger amusing. It made her more frustrated.

"Am I a terrible influence on you then?" he said.

"Yes, I'm saying you're a terrible influence!" As angry as she tried to make herself sound, it didn't come out that way with her high pitch squealing. She huffed and narrowed her eyes as she lifted her glass to take a sip, but her lips only met skin.

To her surprise, Mihawk's hand had zipped from the tabletop within milliseconds and covered the top of her glass, effectively stopping her from drinking. However...

Did she just kiss his hand?

She looked down in shock before moving her gaze back to him. The man seemed unfazed by the somewhat intimate skin-to-skin contact. Honestly, she doesn't even know what he was thinking anymore; he was surprising her left and right tonight, she still couldn't get a good read on him.

What was even more unexpected was this tenderness in his eyes she had never seen before. His softened gaze melted her heart and made him appear open and unguarded. He was...bewitching.

"Miss Reid," he whispered, his voice husky and low as if casting a spell upon her, "don't forget to give your toast before you drink."

She barely registered his words, finding herself lost in his liquid gold eyes. They seemed to glow even brighter in the night and peered into the depths of her soul and left her feeling bare and vulnerable. It was only when his finger softly caressed the top of her hand did it jolted her back to reality.

"It's our ritual isn't it?" said Mihawk.

"Oh." A tingling sensation traveled through her body from his simple touch, but most all… He said our.

She could feel her cheeks burned in response, goosebumps rose on her arms, and her breath hitched in her throat. Her eyes flickered downwards and realized his hand had cupped hers. His hand was so warm and comforting and completely engulfed hers.

Neither of them moved or said a word. The only sounds came from the gentle waves crashing against the dock below and the singing crickets in the trees from where the party must have died down. Now, they were truly alone, and it both thrilled and scared her.

Her thoughts ran rampant, but what she knew for sure was her admiration, respect, and attraction to this stunning man. There was something that drew her to him, like a moth to a flame, and she felt helpless over these undeniable feelings.

And… She didn't want to run away any longer.

Her hand shifted to grip the end of Mihawk's sleeve, tugging it softly as she tried to piece together her words. She had never felt more scared in her life.

"What if…" Jetta began, looking at him through her lashes and meeting his gaze with uncertainty, "What if we do something a little different?"

His face was drawing closer, eyes never leaving hers. "Show me."

The moment the words left his lips, her hand reached up and caressed the outline of his bearded jaw and chin, pulling him in for a gentle kiss. It was just supposed to be a peck on the lips, that was all she meant to do. However, the softest brush against his lips, ignited the passion locked deep within her and it refused to let her pull away.

With bated breath, her eyes fell closed and she gently pressed for more, molding her mouth against his, desperately wanting to taste all of him. The drinking competition was long forgotten. Her body moved instinctively. Never breaking the kiss, she climbed over the crate, knocking over the glasses, and straddled his lap. She ran her hands up his toned arms and around his neck.

Oh, how long she has waited for this.

His hand slithered its way up her neck and into her hair, tilting her head to kiss even deeper. He swallowed the moans leaving her lips, pushing his way in to allow their tongues to tangle and dance in a sensual dance for two. The flavor of the spiced rum and the scent of his salt-kissed skin forever ingrained in her mind.

Her arms still wrapped around his neck, she rolled her hips against his hard body. Each rhythmic brush against her lower half ignited a fire within her. Her body had never felt so heated. She could feel the warmth gathering at the deepest part within her, yearning for more.

Suddenly breaking from her lips, Mihawk gripped her hip tight above him, stopping her movements and growling deliciously into her ear. "Jetta…"

Breathless and in awe, the sound of her name coming from him was so foreign, and he said it in such a way that sent a chill through her body.

He pulled back slightly to gaze into her eyes, pulling her further under his mesmerizing spell. His hair was tousled, his expression was tense, and his molten gold orbs darkened with unrelenting desire. "If we go any further, I won't be able to hold back anymore."

Jetta could see he meant every word. His eyes promising a night she would never forget. If this was a dream, let her never wake up again.

"Please Mihawk..." her teeth biting her lower lips, her nails biting into her arms, "I need you. My body aches for you. You're all I can think about." She leaned in, nibbling on his ear, "Take me. Take me right now. I give all of myself to you, and only you."

Without another word, his face twisted into a hungry snarl and he lifted her effortlessly, pulling her flush against him as she wrapped her legs around him. His mouth captured hers, his kiss even more insatiable than before. She shivered as his hand ran down her back and slipped under her cotton tee, electrifying her senses.

"Your room?" he managed to murmur.

She blindly pointed to the supply ship, and then gestured to the key hanging on her wrist. The man practically glided across the deck with her in his arms, while she was more occupied tracing the line of his jaw and sucking the sensitive skin on his throat.

She didn't even realize they were in her cabin until he unwrapped her from his body.

Her hands wandered over his hard chest, feeling his heart beating rapidly beneath her fingertips, then discarding his jacket to the side. He hastily pulled her shirt over her head, and the rest of her clothes followed suit, as well as his. She didn't even get a chance to marvel his naked body before he led her backwards until they both fell on the bed.

When she went to reach him, he caught her wrists and pinned her arms above her, his gaze swirling with desire, his voice low and husky, "No… I haven't tasted enough of you."

Jetta was only able to let out a single syllable of frustration before he kissed her again.

With his weight deliciously above her, she couldn't help but mewl in pleasure, begging for him to touch her. She was every bit at his whim, wanting more, wanting all he would give her. He never wasted a second, drawing countless moans with his heated touch and his scorching lips, over her rounded breasts and trailing down to her drenched epicenter.

Next thing she knew, he nudged her legs apart and leaned in.

She yelped in a delighted surprise when he tasted her, holding her legs taut in his arms when she tried to squirm away. Oh, but he wasn't going to let her get away. Over and over, he sucked on her sensitive bud and teased its surrounding folds, tasting her essence without any hesitation. Every nerve on her body was awake and burning because of this man. Her hands fisted into the bedding, searching for some sort of relief from the overwhelming pressure building inside of her.

Never pausing for a moment, his finger slipped inside her, then another one, causing her to see stars. His tongue continued in circular motions as his fingers relentlessly pistoned in and out of her. He was driving her mad and she couldn't stop the dam that was about to burst.

"Mihawk… Mihawk…! I-I can't..." She desperately grabbed at his hair, his name on her lips, drawing his heated eyes to meet hers. She never knew a more erotic sight than looking upon her lover between her legs. He watched like a predator, watching her reaction, knowing he was responsible for every passionate moan and the flames coursing through her body. Her fingers brushed against his digits that were disappearing inside of her. Her muscles clenched and released again and again.

He knew she was close. His movement quickened, moving wildly and sporadically, finally pushing her over the edge.

Her head tossed back as she screamed his name, her body exploded and her climax flowed through her with a powerful surge. Her hips pushed erratically against him, squirming under his mouth. Even then, he didn't stop as she writhed uncontrollably, dragging her further into a passionate fervor, and he had her coming a second time.

Weakened and too sensitive, she didn't know how long he kept at it until she breathlessly begged him to stop, pulling him up to kiss her. He held her tight against his chest as his kisses brought her down from the euphoria he just gave her. With the taste of her on his tongue, she was finally convinced this wasn't a dream.

He chuckled against her lips, arching an eyebrow.

Oh, she must have said that out loud.

The tips of his finger caressed her cheek, his powerful gaze holding her in place.

"...You're so beautiful when you're screaming my name, Jetta."

She could feel her ears burn. He certainly knew how to rile her up.

Peeved, she caught one of his fingers in her mouth, biting hard, making him smile just a tiny bit. But then, she sucked it gently, twirling around it with her tongue, never breaking eye contact. "... It's all your fault," she said languidly. She reached down to stroke the length of his hard member, so hot and heavy in her hand. A deep rumble resonated at the back of his throat, making her smile. "And I guess this is my fault."

She could sense the inaudible eye roll Mihawk was giving her before he kissed the smirk away from her lips. Wrapping her hand around his girth, she positioned him between her entrance and with a roll of his hips, their bodies connected.

Blinding pleasure was all she felt. She couldn't hold back her wanton whines as he slowly stretched and filled her in the most intimate way. He kept his pace slow but steady as she assimilated to his size, each thrust making her weak. This man was going to be the death of her.

She observed through hooded eyes his strained expression, eyes closed, breath labored. He enjoyed this every bit as much as she was, but she wanted him to abandon his control. She wanted to feel every bit of his desire.

Raising her legs, she wrapped herself around his waist, pulling him further into the deepest part of her. His surprised grunt sounded from above her, his hot breath blew over her face. She arched her back, pressing her soft chest against him as she hooked her arms around his neck to take his lips into hers. She kissed him desperately, moving the lower half of her body in circular motions, in hopes to spur him on.

"Faster…" she panted, "I won't break."

Needing no further encouragement, he sat up from the bed, his iron grip tightened on her hips, and he began a merciless rhythm, impaling her into the mattress in fast, vicious strokes. She released short, sharp gasps with every wild thrust. His hands caught one of her breasts and brought it to his lips and he sucked without remorse.

His movements never slowed as his knees slipped under her hips to elevate her at a better angle. Within a few seconds, the new position hit an overwhelming spot within her and she threw her head back in a heated cry. Her fingernails dug into his back as she held on for dear life. She can feel the undeniable pressure building inside her. The thrumming and throbbing, it was all happening again.

Another desperate sob escaped her lips, Jetta mindlessly begged him for more, letting him have his way with her. She was his now.

She heard him inhale sharply, and somehow his pace hastened and it felt like he hit even deeper than before. Her hands gripped the back of the headboard to steady her body against his powerful thrusts. She could feel him getting harder, bigger. He was close.

However, all her thoughts swept away when Mihawk reached between their joined bodies and stroked her sensitive bud and it swelled immediately under his familiar touch. All her senses were going into overdrive. He was electrifying every nerve in her body with every brush of his thumb and every plunge of his member. She could barely breathe, her eyes rolled to the back of her head. Everything around her disappeared. It was just two of them.

As for him, the once well-composed man was gone, and before her was an untamed beast. Letting out a low and ferocious growl, he reached down, wrapping his arms around her body, and held her tight as he rutted her with reckless abandon. The bed shook and banged against the floor and wall.

"Hn, yes, yes, yesss…! Ah, Mihawk!" Repeatedly she muttered those words in various sequences next to his ear as he pounded the life out of her. Then, at the corner of her mind, she could feel the tension in her body release, the line finally snapped.

Endless waves of mind-shattering turbulence courses through her body as she peaked once again. A slow, everlasting groan left her lips. She couldn't believe she was coming again. He drew it out of her, and he wasn't going to let her forget.

In the midst of her blissful haze, she heard his deep, husky grunts, followed by the final, erratic jerks of his body before she felt his release inside her. So warm, and deep inside her. Her eyes closed, her entire body shuddered and spasmed underneath his weight. She never felt more tired and content in her life.

Falling to the side, he pulled her into his arms, and she nuzzled into his neck. He caught her chin and tilted her head to kiss her softly. Even after all that, she could still detect traces of rum on his lips. She will savor this moment forever.

A low hum came from him. He broke the kiss to press his forehead against hers, eyes closed, his breath steady.

Her hand reached up to cup his cheek, leaving a lazy peck on the side of his scruffy chin before lying in his arms, her eyes heavy. "Stay… Stay with me," she whispered. She wanted to look him in the eyes but sleep was calling her.

His grip on her tightened, she felt his head resting gently against the top of her head. "Sleep, Jetta."

It was all she was able to make out before she drifted.

It's been awhile since Jetta slept so soundly. For the most part, all she dreamed about were those penetrating golden eyes staring straight into her soul. It used to haunt her, always reaching out for it; but now, they enveloped her in a soft cocoon. She stirred in bed, shifting her body to cuddle into the warmth beside her. A set of strong arms wrap around her, pulling her even closer.

She couldn't help but grin.

Opening her eyes, she found Mihawk was already wide awake. Once again, it was a new sight to see him so nonchalant, no strain in his expression saved for his brilliant gaze observing her. Butterflies swarmed her stomach. Such intensity was hard to get used to. However, being this close to him, feeling his arms around her, his eyes focused only on her—she wouldn't trade this moment for anything else in the world.

"Good morning," he said softly.

"Heh, with you here, it is a good morning already," she replied with delight.

In the most unexpected turn of events, an absolute, sincerest smile appeared on his face. Her heart nearly stopped. She was finally able to see him smile, and... The man was gorgeous. So serene, honest. She couldn't look away.

Not thinking, she leaned in and kissed him lightly, pulling his hand to her chest to feel her thumping heartbeat. With all her being, she knew there was no going back.

She met into his eyes straight on. "I give all of myself to you, Mihawk. It wasn't just the rum talking. I meant what I said last night," she said, then gestured to her racing heart. "It's yours. I'm...yours."

His gaze moved between her and his hand on her chest and then meeting her eyes once again. He stared long and hard. Whatever he was searching for seemed to satisfy him because he kissed her hard, pulling an elated gasp from her lips. She found herself on top of him, her soft curves pressing into his hard body.

"Darling Jetta," his voice low, unhurried, "you make me want something more out of this life." He reached up to brush a stray hair behind her ear. "Nothing else matters anymore, except you." He took her hands and placed them over his chest, his pounding heart was unmistakable. And in time, it was beating in sync with hers.

His last words brought tears to her eyes.

"You are all mine, and I am yours."

A kiss sealed the everlasting promise.