One Piece: Lust Haki

The officers' corridor was empty at 2200.

I'd stayed late at the advanced training room running Observation drills. Solo work, no partner, just me and the lamps and the frequency my Haki could hear buzzing in the fixtures if I held the focus long enough. The range had plateaued at fifteen meters clean. It wouldn't move. I'd been pushing at the ceiling for weeks and the ceiling wasn't budging and I knew exactly what would make it budge and that knowledge sat in my boot with a crumpled note and six sentences I couldn't tell anyone.

The corridor smelled like floor polish and lamp oil. My footsteps echoed. The officers' quarters were to the left, past the briefing rooms, in the wing that recruits weren't supposed to be in after 2100 unless they had authorization or a reason good enough to survive a question they couldn't answer honestly.

I had authorization. Gion had written it herself two months ago. "Late training access, advanced mentorship track." The paper was technically correct and practically a lie and the paper stayed in my pocket because paper made things official and official things were harder to question.

Her door was on the right. I was going to walk past it. She hadn't said anything about tonight and the last time I'd shown up uninvited she'd told me that assumptions were unattractive, which had been delivered in her measured voice with her coat still on her shoulders and her lipstick perfect, and I'd gone back to the barracks and thought about the word unattractive for longer than it deserved.

I was close to her door when it opened.

Her hand closed around my wrist and she pulled.

The motion was fast. Vice Admiral fast. The grip was Haki-hardened and it dragged me through the doorway before I'd processed the visual of her face in the corridor light. The door closed behind me. The lock clicked. Her quarters were dark except for the harbor light coming through the window, grey and blue, and she was standing between me and the door and her hand was still on my wrist.

Her lips were parted. Her eyes were wide. The curl that always fell against her neck was tucked behind her ear, which meant she'd been running her fingers through her hair, which meant she'd been pacing. Her uniform was buttoned but the coat was on the chair, not her shoulders. She'd taken it off. She never took it off in her quarters when she was expecting company.

She wasn't expecting company. She'd opened the door and grabbed whoever was walking past.

Whoever happened to be me.

"What hap-"

She kissed me.

Hard. Her mouth hit mine and her hands were on my jaw and she pushed me backward until my shoulders hit the wall beside the door. Her teeth caught my lower lip. She tasted like tea she'd drunk hours ago, cold and bitter, and her fingers were cold on my neck but her mouth was hot and she kissed me like she was trying to climb inside my chest.

I kissed her back because my body was faster than my brain and my hands were on her waist before I'd decided to put them there. She was shaking. Fine tremors through her ribs under my palms, the shaking of someone who'd been holding still too long and then stopped. Her fingers went into my hair and pulled. Too hard. My scalp stung and I didn't care.

She turned us. Pushed me toward the door. Changed her mind. Pulled me back. Put her own back against the door and pulled me into her and her legs came up.

I caught her. My hands under her thighs, her weight against me, and she was light or I was stronger. My Armament held without thinking about it. She wrapped her legs around my waist and her heels dug into my lower back and her skirt was around her hips and she wasn't wearing anything under it.

She'd been waiting. For me, or for whoever walked past.

Her hand reached between us. Found me through the fabric of my trousers. I was hard. Her urgency had done that in seconds and she freed me with fingers that were still shaking and then she shifted her hips and I was inside her.

She was wet. Already, before I'd touched her, before the kiss had gone longer than ten seconds. Wet and tight and her body clenched around me the moment I was all the way in and her forehead dropped against mine and she breathed out through her nose, a long ragged exhale that fogged the air between our mouths.

Her eyes were open.

She was looking at me. Straight at me. Her pupils were blown in the dim light and the irises around them were dark and she didn't blink. I started to move. Her back slid against the door. The wood creaked. Her thighs tightened around me and her heels pressed harder into my spine and I held her up and moved and she kept her eyes open.

Fast. She wanted fast. Her hips rocked to meet mine and her breathing was rough through her nose and she gripped my hair with both hands and her mouth was close to mine but she wasn't kissing me anymore. She was breathing into me. Short, sharp breaths. Her body was hot against my chest through two layers of uniform and her hands in my hair hurt and I was holding her entire weight against the door and my arms weren't tired.

I pushed deeper. The angle was steep, gravity pulling her down onto me, and her body opened and her jaw dropped and a sound came out that I'd never heard from her before. Low, broken, like she'd lost the beginning of the word halfway through. Her eyes stayed open.

I went still for a second. Adjusted my grip. Lifted her higher. She made a sound at the shift, high and sharp, and then I moved again and the door rattled in its frame. Her fingers tightened in my hair, both fists, pulling until the roots ached. Her thighs were trembling against my sides. Her breath was coming in bursts now, each one louder than the last, and her eyes were open and wet and locked on mine and she said my name. Once. Just "Kael." Quiet. Like she was confirming I was real.

I didn't answer. I was past answering. My hips moved and her body moved with them and the door creaked and her legs shook and her fingers twisted in my hair and she was building, her walls gripping tighter with each thrust, and then her hands locked and her thighs clamped and her whole body went rigid against the door.

She came with her eyes open. Looking at me. The sound she made was a sob. A single, cracked sound that came from somewhere in her chest, and it broke through her mouth and hit my face and I felt it in my teeth.

I finished shortly after. Her body was clenching in waves and the sound was still in the air between us and my vision went white at the edges and I pushed into her and stayed and my forehead was against hers and her pulse was in every point of contact. Rapid. Uneven.

We stayed against the door. Her legs around me. My hands under her thighs. Her forehead against mine. Breathing.

The harbor light moved on the ceiling.

She lowered her legs. I let her down. She stood on her own feet, heels on the floor, and her skirt fell and she was still pressed against the door and her hands were still in my hair.

"Tell me what happened."

She took her hands out of my hair. Slowly. One finger at a time, untangling from the curls. She smoothed my collar. Straightened the front of my shirt where she'd crushed it.

"Tsuru knows."

Two words. The room went cold.

"How much."

"Enough to warn me." She reached behind her and turned the doorknob with one hand. The lock clicked open. She didn't open the door. "Not enough to report me."

Tsuru. The woman who'd trained Gion for thirty years. Tsuru knew about us, and she'd said enough that Gion had come to her quarters and waited behind the door and grabbed the first man who walked past because the first man at 2200 in the officers' corridor on a Tuesday was always me.

She straightened her skirt. Buttoned the button I hadn't noticed was undone at her collar. Her hands were steady now. The shaking was gone. She tucked the curl back behind her ear and the curl stayed this time.

Her jaw settled. Her shoulders squared, her spine straightened, and her eyes dried. Her mouth closed and the lips reset into the line that looked like composure and wasn't. The Vice Admiral rebuilt herself in front of me with her back against the door and my cum still inside her.

"She told me to choose my career."

"What did you say?"

"Nothing." She opened the door. The corridor light came in, orange from the lamps. Her face in the light was the Vice Admiral's face. The scared woman was behind it, somewhere, but the architecture was back in place. "I came here instead."

She held the door open. The corridor was empty.

"Go."

I went.

The corridor was long and empty and my footsteps echoed. I fixed my shirt as I walked. My hair was a mess. The roots ached from where she'd pulled. The ache felt warm, spread across my scalp in a pattern her fingers had mapped.

She was choosing me. She was choosing me and it might cost her the Admiral seat and she'd told me to go and I'd gone because she'd asked me to come and she'd asked me to leave and neither of those were my decisions to argue with.

Tsuru knew.

The corridor turned and the barracks were ahead. A recruit was coming the other direction, heading to the head. He passed me without looking up. My shirt was fixed. My hair was just messy hair. There was nothing on my face that said I'd just been inside a Vice Admiral against her door while she chose between me and thirty years of work.

I reached my bunk. Sat on the edge. The ceiling crack was there. Same crack. Same bunk. Same ceiling.

She told me to choose my career.

I came here instead.

The ceiling crack didn't have an answer. The note in my boot didn't either. I lay down. The ache in my scalp faded. The mess hall bell would ring in seven hours.

I didn't sleep for a while.

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