Heavily OCC, non-canon, adventure, Western
A/N: During my daily OP scroll for pictures on Insta, I found this picture; it's a Western-style One Piece pic – it's 'realistic', and I don't know if it's an actual story but it's freaking beautiful. I made it my phone wallpaper. Then it kept haunting me so I wrote this to get it out of the way! IDK what to do with it, I just needed it out of my head. Does anybody know if that pic is a story of some kind? Pls. I need it.
Part One
The desert didn't cool down too much at night. It was often just as painful as it was during the day, minus the sun. The rugged dirt roads that came in from the east brought a busy line of travelers throughout the week, using the town as a stop before easing on for a brutal ride towards the west. There was talks of gold in the hills just beyond the horizon, but there hadn't been actual truth to the story.
Coyotes yipped around the boundaries, with larger wolves calling out from the mountainous hills that loomed over from the north. The ground was speckled with desert brush, and large herds of steer were coaxed through the area with careful mind to the occasional sinkholes that rain water caused near the hills. While the town was often active with rowdy cowboys, overeager bandits chasing after bank riders and the occasional criminal hanging, the surrounding boundaries were peaceful, quiet, and uneventful.
That was what he preferred. The solitude of the desert gave him time to his own thoughts, and didn't mind what he did whenever he decided to do it. He'd come in some time ago – maybe six months – and put a stake on some land just beyond the hills. He intended on mining for gold later on, but found himself straying away from that path and just minding his own business because the nightmares kept him from functioning properly.
Occasionally he rode into town for supplies, mail and a drink. The bar he liked to stop by was located near the edge, often ignored because the liquor was weak, the food was bad, but the people that stopped there had nice tales to tell. He suspected it was used as a cover for Something Else, but he didn't care to find out what, when or who. He just wanted to sit and enjoy his drink and listen for the sound of his name leaving any traveler's lips.
Coming in from the East on a bad note had left him feeling slightly paranoid – he'd left behind a corrupt city with ruthless owners and his separation from them hadn't been on the best of terms.
The night was young, and the dusty streets were full of revelers. Drunken cowboys, rambunctious women and animals waiting for their riders lined the wooden sidewalks. There was a fight at the corner of the street that had Sheriff Smoker walking over to investigate, his deputy trailing behind him with a terrified expression.
His yellow horse walked diligently towards the bar and settled calmly at the railing. The bar was lively, tonight, with the piano going in the corner, some cowboys getting rowdy at the gambling tables. The smell of smoke was extremely pungent, and the two bartenders were scrambling from wall to counter to serve drinks.
It was unusual for such activity, and he hesitated on whether or not to continue in. But the bartender who always wore a very low hanging hat that obscured his eyes, Shachi, gestured at him from the empty end of the bar with his usual drink in hand, and so he felt he had no choice but to go enjoy it. He set down his long rifle next to him, the unusual gun resting comfortably from floor to counter – nearly his height.
"It's terribly busy because Drum Town was burnt down, last night," Shachi explained hastily. "By thieves. Wiped their bank clean and set fire to everything else."
It made him only slightly uncomfortable. Banks were the East's favorite tool of choice when it came to controlling territories. But Trafalgar D. Water Law relaxed at the counter and watched the mirrors behind the bar, seeing men sing along to the piano with grand action, and four men at a poker table accuse each other of cheating, guns being drawn.
Occasionally he'd meet his own eyes in the reflection – wide brim hat pulled down low, with a hatband of spotted animal fur covered thick black hair that was left untended to. He wore two pairs of hoops in each ear – striking much conversation with many macho men that demanded to know why. He was a tall man, standing over most of the men in town, and while wiry, he wore multiple layers of clothes that covered nearly every inch of him, including half-fingered gloves. The hooded coat he wore needed replacing and his boots were scruffed, but he considered himself an invisible guy, fitting in with the rest of them out there. The only item on him that struck up interest was the long rifle he carried – it was nearly his height, with a thin barrel and a thick stock. Many of the guys had scoffed at the seemingly useless weapon – it required too much time to balance and strength needed to hold when fired, but when it did, Law didn't have any complaints. Many men that he'd shot down with it had no complaints, either.
He sipped at his whiskey, enjoying the burn as it went down. Shachi hastily waved at one of the owners peeking in from the staircase, indicating more alcohol.
Gunfire erupted, bullets splintering the wall around him, but he knew he wasn't in any danger. Men screamed and hollered, throwing chairs, and soon most of them were fighting over dropped money, drinks and whatever else had displeased them. The piano continued, and he glanced over his shoulder in that direction.
He stilled, feeling caught. Sitting at the edge of the piano was a traveler that definitely wasn't from the area. Both him and the singer, a tall, skinny older man with a top hat and absurdly loud clothes weren't dressed for the desert heat. They looked far too comfortable enjoying themselves as men fought around them, shooting at the ceiling and at each other.
But what made Law stare was the beauty of the man. He wore a white long sleeve shirt left unbuttoned, underneath a black vest fitted tightly over his torso. He had bright, shiny blond hair that hung over one side of his face, and a cigarette dangling from his mouth as he sang along with the piano player. When he kicked out with one leg to keep a pair of men from crashing into them, Law saw that he wore extremely fitted pants with black boots that didn't fit the desert environment.
He was a gorgeous man, and Law couldn't help but notice that.
It annoyed him, turning back around and nursing his drink as the fights simmered down, and games continued. The singer changed the song to a corny jingle that had most of the guys at the counter booing.
Shachi returned with a fresh bottle and refilled his glass. "I don't know where most of them came from," he said with a shrug. "But Sheriff's been busy. It'll clear out by tomorrow. Mail was delayed, I heard, too."
He ducked suddenly, glass crashing into the bar as an upset gambler threw a tantrum. Law turned his head to glare back at the man that missed him, and the cowboy sat hastily, burying his face in his cards while the rest of the table hunched over.
Shachi straightened up. "Well, since you asked, I've heard nothing about them East cities, either. Not much is said about them, and those kinds of travelers don't stay long."
"I didn't ask."
"You did a long time ago. I remember," Shachi said, tapping his forehead. "I've listened ever since."
Law stared at his drink for several moments. "Okay. Thanks."
Shachi wiped down the bar, making a face, then hastily set down an extra glass, and poured a new drink in, leaving it there. Law was about to complain when the man from the piano sidled up next to him, taking the drink with tobacco stained fingers and a heady smell from his cigarette.
"Hi," he said with a beautifully slow smile and an irritatingly animated expression. "Everyone's having fun out there, and you're the only one in the corner, keeping to himself. I know everyone else's name, here. What's yours?"
Shachi shrugged at Law and walked off to serve the others.
It was hard to concentrate when he saw that the man was even more attractive up close. That blond hair hung to the side of his face, obscuring one eye briefly, seemingly fluttering with every movement of his head. He had a finely chiseled in the jawline. He still looked young – but there were lines around his eyes that suggested an active life outside and with the way he moved about, he wasn't one to sit still.
But he smelled so nice – nothing like the sweaty scent of body odor and dirt, plus animal that every one else smelled like. He had friendly blue-grey eyes that gleamed with sultry knowledge and mirth and Law was drawn in like a moth to light.
It was exactly all those things he'd noticed before that made him intensely wary. Because assassins were anybody, and they definitely weren't the dusty type. It made him sneer at the thought of the Donquixote family sending one of their well-groomed killers unprepared for the West.
He slipped his hand into his jacket, just in case, to feel the handle of his knife there. Then he noticed that even though the man wore holsters strapped to his thighs, he lacked a gun in either of them. So he had to give him a look of question.
"What's up with those?" he asked. "There's nothing in it."
"Well, nobody's complained before," was the airy answer. "Are you looking at them, or are you looking at something else?"
"My name's none of your business," Law then added with a scowl at the peculiar line.
"All right, None Of Your Business, if that's how you want to be, then I'll let you be. My name's Sanji Blackleg, by the way. You want to know why they call me Blackleg?"
"No."
"You're supposed to say, 'Why?' I can say it for you, if you'd like."
"Don't care. This overall presentation you have going on is making me uncomfortable."
"Why? Can't look away? Or you want to look even longer?" Sanji asked, tipping his head to the bar so that Law was forced to keep him in sight. "I saw you looking, earlier. Thought I'd drop on by so you can look up close."
"Comments like that get men killed, you know."
"Well, obviously, I ain't killed yet! Hey, you, I ran out of matches!" Sanji then said, gesturing at Shachi while Law scrunched his face at the gall of this man's cheeky conversation.
"Please don't harass our regulars," Shachi said, tossing him some matches.
"You actually live out here?" Sanji asked Law with a laugh, pulling out a tin from one of the holsters. He plucked out another cigarette, lit it with another laugh, then tossed the used match into his drink. Law frowned at him, shoving the glass aside with irritation. "Who did you kill back East to actually come live out here? There's nothing out here."
"It's nice," Law said tightly.
"It's a nice cemetery for all you brush people! Look, I'm here for awhile," Sanji then said, leaning against the counter. "Let's say we get to know each other a little better, how about that?"
"I don't want to talk to you, anymore."
"I don't want to talk to you, either, but I'd like to get to know you. We're not going to see each other again, right? Who's to know that you and me were talking, hmm? Why don't you show me how that there rifle works – prove to me you're not overcompensating for something else," Sanji added with a grin, reaching out to curl his fingers over Kikoku's barrel. Then proceeded to jerk it lightly, maintaining eye contact with him the entire time.
Law was inwardly horrified at how aggressive the man was. How open. For the moment, he didn't say anything, or even react.
But Sanji flipped his hair out of his face and then walked away, encouraging people to sing along with the newest song that was being played. He stole off with someone's glass and drank it all while the man protested. The singer played with one hand, and then used the other to shoot the man dead when he rose to charge after Sanji. The blond only laughed and rejoined him at the piano, both of them singing in tandem while others joined in.
Who the hell are these people? Law wondered with bewilderment. He had the urge to wipe off Kikoku's barrel with one of Shachi's cleaning rags but Shachi was busy serving others down the other end of the bar.
He paid for his drinks, grabbed his rifle, and proceeded to walk out. He was untying his horse when Sanji reappeared next to him, leaning against the animal with a casual air.
"I have a room upstairs," he said, still smiling. "Unless you have a wife at home. Maybe you should bring her, too. I do both."
"Out of the way, weirdo."
"It's only weird if people catch you doing it," Sanji said. "Look, I'll make a deal -you don't have to pay me. I won't even ask. I won't even steal anything after you wake up. Pinkie promise. When was the last time you had action, anyway?"
"You're an odd one, and get off my horse."
"If you were so bothered with it, you would've shot me dead a long time ago. But you like it. And you're considering it, and I say go for it. Live a little."
"I live here."
"I'll make you feel right at home," Sanji promised him, reaching out to smooth the wrinkles of his jacket, to pat the brim of his hat.
"No," Law repeated, "now move."
"Did I mention how much I adore taller men? Afterward, when I'm laying there all proud of myself for rocking his world and having him call my name instead of his wife's, I like that thing they do where they hold me close. Kind of a snuggle thing. Treat me gentle and nice and tell me pretty things that all the good girls like to hear. I like that. And I peg you for that type of man."
Law stared at him for several seconds. He liked it too. But it was just too strange to be approached so boldly and propositioned so easily and he was wary of it.
Sanji frowned at the feel of his knife pressed up against his belt line. He looked down at the thin sharp blade that was barely visible at the angle Law held it. He pulled away. "Fine. You're missing out, though. I don't usually do it for free."
"I love me a sale," Law muttered, climbing atop of his horse as Sanji finally moved. Sanji shifted across the porch, and Law couldn't help but notice just how tight those damn pants were. It was a mystery as to how he could move in them.
Sanji caught the reins before they could leave, looking up at him with a grin. That gap that displayed his chest showed off too much skin. How a man like him could walk around like that, unbothered by the opinions and minds around him was unusual.
"I'll make you breakfast. Even if people complain about the way I look, they've never complained about the way I cook."
"My stuff is just fine."
Sanji let the reins go and gave him a light wave. Law coaxed the horse forward, but he couldn't help but look back over his shoulder to see if he'd catch the other man walking away. But Sanji stood there with a knowing smile and Law decided his night was over.
The next morning, he waited for the grocer to finish counting up the credits owed for his canned goods when the doors opened and closed grandly. The grocer looked up with a tentative smile, then left hastily without saying another word. Law frowned at this, watching him walk briskly to the back and shut the heavy door, lock sliding into place.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" he mumbled, looking down at the goods he'd intended on paying for.
Then he froze because there was another body too close to him, and he reacted with a jerk back, watching as Sanji examined his groceries.
"This is single man portioning," he said with a 'tsk'. "A can a day, at least? With nothing to treat the bland taste?"
The other man was the piano player, and he had busy hands in the hard candy section, mumbling to himself. His tall, skinny frame was outfitted in garish material and a silk shirt, with his hair braided thickly behind him. He moved with such fluid and silent action that Law's instincts made him keep them in sight.
"I could've made you something grander," Sanji told Law with a frown. "And salt pork? Not good for the pores. Look at this, this is terrible. Brook, tell him he's terrible."
"You're a terrible man, stranger," Brook said with a vague wave in their direction.
"But it works for me," Sanji decided, setting the packages aside and sitting on the counter with a smooth hop. He leaned forward on one knee, and Law couldn't help but notice a lot of him. The way his hair fell over one eye, the way those lips curled into a knowing smile, the way his shirt revealed a surprisingly muscled chest and overly strong abs. Muscles that would make any man weak in the knee.
But Law held himself sternly and kept his distance.
"If you're eating like shit, it means you're single as shit."
"As I told you before, not interested."
"Keep lying to yourself. You can't keep your eyes off me."
"You're sitting right in front of me, obviously."
"Tell me I'm pretty and I'll move," Sanji then said with a wide grin.
Law refused to say such things out loud, especially when Brook walked by, humming, his arms full of rock candy. He walked right out of the store, which was startling because the man had taken without paying.
He looked for the grocer, certain that this was wrong, but there wasn't anymore movement from the back. He looked back at Sanji with a suspicious expression. "Who are you people?"
"It's just me and Brook, right now. Well, technically there was supposed to be three of us. But certain people will get lost walking a straight line," Sanji mentioned with a scowl.
"Were you guys behind Drum Town?"
"Are you working for Smoker? That ghastly beast of a man. Your town's going to burn with that sort of attitude. But, no, we weren't. That wasn't us," he added calmly, reaching up to fiddle with Law's jacket again, then reaching up to touch his earrings. "I'm going to be in town for another night. And I'm a lonely, lonely man."
Law pulled his head back to avoid being touched. "Sucks for you."
"There's that offer. I've been told I'm very good at it."
"We all have talents we're proud of. But something like that shouldn't be one of them," Law said, reaching around him to snatch the credits the grocer had been adding up. "Move."
"I like when men play hard to get. Makes it even funner when I finally prove to them what they've been missing out on."
"'Funner' isn't even a word." Law tossed down some cash and grabbed his things, Sanji sliding off the counter to walk with him. He held the door open for Law, who stared at him with irritation before passing through. Shoving his things into his bag, Law looked out at the street, noticing that some cowboys were herding steer through town, again. Brook was sitting nearby, sharing his candy with some kids.
"So, I'll see you tonight?" Sanji asked him. "Same place? Same spot? I asked the bartender about you. He had some stories to tell. You and I have a lot in common, you know. If that makes things any easier."
"Not at all," Law muttered, riding away.
"Will you be there?" Sanji called after him. "At least let me know so I can dress appropriately!"
Law's answer was to flip him off.
But he thought about it. He had most of the day to thing about it. He sat on the porch of his home and stared out at the sun as it began setting in the mountains, the sky turning various colors, and he thought about how lithe the man was. How perfectly round, high and tight his ass sat. He thought about that perfect mouth of his, and the way he flipped his hair out of his face to talk.
The coyotes called out around his area, their lonely cries echoing off the hills, and Law felt annoyed with himself as he flicked the cigarette away.
Later on, he did find himself in the same spot he was last night, and Shachi told him that the mail had made it to town. Along with more people, with news that another town had gone up in flames.
"You can still see the smoke!" Shachi exclaimed over the racket. In the mirror behind the bar, Law could see Sanji singing along with Brook, both of them drinking from a bottle of their own, but there was another person sitting with them. A surly faced man with a black hat and low brim, a black bandanna covering most of his hair, and seated catty corner from them with a few bottles on the table. The area in that section was empty save for them, and Sanji would alternate sitting with the pianist to bugging the man trying to sleep in his chair. Law watched Sanji force expressions onto the other man's face, physically pushing him into a tense conversation before the other man punched and kicked at him, forcing Sanji to dart out of his reach with a playful laugh.
Law's instincts were ringing. The man in the corner was danger, and he made a lot of the gamblers uncomfortable. He didn't know of many men that presented such an aura just by looking sleepy, but he could feel it from where he was sitting.
He sipped at his drink and wondered why his loneliness made such odd decisions for him. Sanji was there moments later, leaning against the counter with that same expectant look to his face and Law knew it was now or never. Sanji told him the room number and left with a happy 'peace' sign to Brook, who played a cringe-worthy jingle that made everyone boo him. The man in the corner snored loudly.
Nearly an hour later, Sanji was proving his claim about his talents right – Law honestly felt like losing his mind. Sanji was on his knees in front of him, practically sucking the life right out of him, and wasn't shy about the entire thing. He had a dirty mouth and he knew another language and by the time Law came into his mouth, Law had pretty much forgotten his own name.
Sanji wiped his mouth with a victorious purr, and climbed atop of Law, kissing every exposed inch of him save for his mouth. The feel of his skin, the sensation of his facial hairs against Law's skin made him break out in goosebumps.
"Told you I'd make you feel good," he whispered into Law's ear before licking and biting his earlobe. "Next time you won't try so hard ignoring me. I don't like being ignored."
"Put my money back, and I'll believe you," Law said, frowning at him.
"Oh, bother, you're one of those guys, aren't you?" Sanji said, straddling his hips but tossing the wad of cash aside. "So attuned to the world around you, all aware and shit."
"Some people have to be."
"Do you have to wear so much, right now?" Sanji then asked, undoing the buttons to Law's shirt, but Law wasn't having that. He quickly sat up and Sanji fell to the floor with an awkward noise. "Bastard!"
He caught the foot aimed for his knee and stood, tossing it to the side. But not quick enough to evade the next kick – a blur of limbs and an impressive headstand later, had Law knocked completely across the room. He righted himself with a startled look as Sanji turned and faced him, hands sliding into his pockets.
"What's this?" Law asked warily. "You're going to rob me, now?"
"You're wearing a ton of clothes. You've worn fingerless gloves this entire time. You won't remove that jacket. What are you hiding under all that?"
"You're the one they sent?" Law asked skeptically. "Must not be from where I'm from. You're from another family."
"So I'm right!"
"Depends on what you're looking for."
"Word is, a very big family is very upset that their youngest went missing. But it's none of my business. That's just word," Sanji said, pacing slowly towards him. "Moving on, this is a whole new world out here. We're just exploring it, seeing what we find."
"'We'?"
"There's more of us. Separated along the way. Occasionally, we run into independents and other groups that find us a challenge," Sanji said. "Sometimes we just have to check them out, see if they're a threat. Are you a threat to us?"
"I live in the middle of no where. I prefer it that way. I'm avoiding people who get curious. If they're too curious, they will disappear," Law promised, fixing his pants. "You made good with your word. I dropped my guard a little."
"Just imagined what could've happened if we had more time," Sanji said with a grin. "I could've had you dropping more than that."
"I could make good on mine. If you promise to keep your hands to yourself."
For the first time, Sanji looked taken off guard. Law gestured at the bed, and Sanji hesitated for a few moments before crawling atop of it. Once Law gestured at him to turn over, Sanji followed his direction with an obvious reluctance. Law walked over with slow action, indicating that he clutch the pillow underneath his chin. With a curious frown, Sanji did so, Law climbing onto the bed to straddle his middle. He grabbed his cash, first, stuffing it into his inside jacket pocket.
With light action, Law began touching him. Stroking the sides of his neck, touching his jawline, taking his time to soothe and relax tense muscles. Once Sanji started to relax to his touch, Law bent over his back, stroking up Sanji's neck and chin with firm action.
"You're a very pretty man," he murmured, stroking the tensing muscles of his neck with fingers calloused from riding, from working outside. He traced the length of Sanji's neck and jaw with his fingers and palms, as if he were stroking an animal. "Very attractive. Couldn't take my eyes off you since the moment I saw you. You carry yourself well, very strongly. I can tell you can hold your own. But I find it disturbing that they sent only you."
"Wait - !" Sanji started to say, jerking up when Law grabbed the loose collar of his shirt; one hand over the other, both sides of his collar pulled tightly against his neck. Sitting firmly so Sanji couldn't move, Law pulled the material with his elbows out. Sanji struggled, but all it took was the firm angle of his collar shirt pressed against both sides of his neck to stop oxygen and blood flow. It took less than ten seconds before Sanji dropped and Law released the choke. He stood up and away from the bed, and began investigating the suitcase nearby.
He found fine clothing, a pair of shoes, paperwork with what looked to be various receipes, and a couple of books on elementary arithmetic and the West's geography. None of it matched, and nothing made sense. He found a thick roll of money in the lining of the suitcase and a pocket watch. He put those all away, then rifled through the long jacket hanging nearby, finding some old train tickets. Sanji's destination had been to a town Law hadn't heard of, along the west coastline – starting from the lower south east. None of it near his own hometown.
He put everything away, then checked on the other man. Sanji was still out but he'd be fine, and Law had to admire his beauty once again. He gave his neck another stroke of his fingers and then walked out from the room, shutting the door softly behind him. He headed for the back staircase, hearing the sound of approaching footfalls. He didn't look back or feel alarmed at that point, but at least he felt comfortable admitting that this assassin wasn't sent for him.
He untied his horse and went home, feeling irritated that he'd given into his loneliness.
The next morning, he was looking through the pieces of mail that had come for him. The post master was upset because a majority of it had been splattered with blood, the delivery man killed in action on the way in. there were a couple of letters and a small package, and Law took them outside. He jiggled the package, curious about the weight, then opened one of the letters.
The cursive handwriting made him cringe. He refolded the letter and shoved all three items into his saddle bag. He was finished with the town – he guessed he wouldn't be back in for a month. He was just about to ride back home when Sanji ran at him, grabbing the reins to his horse and giving him a furious look.
"You bastard! You can't do that to me!" he snapped, the horse fidgeting in place.
"I'm going to run you over," Law threatened, noticing that Smoker and his deputy were looking over their way.
"I told you, I'm not one of them! But now I want answers!"
"Nothing to give you." His horse reacted, rising up onto its back legs so Sanji let go. But that didn't stop him – he waited for the animal to turn, and suddenly he was right behind Law with his arms around him, kicking at the horse's flanks.
"Hey!" Smoker called out, moving to walk over, and Law wasn't about to linger around the law man in the position he was in. Not even when Sanji had a knife against his back and was hissing at him to "go!" so Law urged the horse forward.
"Ha ha! Yes! I did it!" Sanji yelled, holding onto Law tightly with both hands. "Let's go faster!"
Just on the outskirts of town, though, Law flung both himself and Sanji off the back of his horse. Sanji wasn't prepared, hitting the ground with a loud curse as the horse stopped and waited nearby while Law turned to face him.
"Now you're getting too bold," he warned, jerking the long rifle from the holster on his saddle, his horse snorting.
"Okay look, to be honest, I just wanted to say 'I'm sorry'," Sanji said from the dirt, hands up. "You're right, I was planning on robbing you. I needed some extra cash. If I hit a nerve with the whole back East thing, it was only luck. I'm from back East, I don't know half the people that live in my own neighborhood! All I know is that all sorts of characters come out this way to escape what they did back there! I know I did!"
"I don't appreciate you hounding me."
"Is it because I'm good looking?" Sanji asked, folding his hands behind his head. "Or am I a little too pushy? I get that, sometimes."
"Maybe all of it."
"I can fix the pushy part, but the first part is something I can't help." He stood up with an exasperated expression. "God, this ground's hard! And hot! How can you live like this? I'm dying just lying right here – can I at least stand up?"
Law motioned at him to do so, resting his long rifle against his shoulder as Sanji brushed himself off. He looked towards town, squinting at the bar, then at Law again. "Can you take me to your place? Those guys I'm with are hounding me. They won't leave me alone."
"It's probably the other way around."
Sanji laughed. "You're right! So, how about you help them out? I promise, the only thing I plan on assassinating is your dick."
"No."
"C'mon, you had a little taste of it the other night…wasn't I good to you? I can be real good to you," he said, purring up to Law, and Law felt annoyed because having that body of his pressed against him was distracting. He was definitely interested. It had been awhile, and the way Sanji carried himself promised a lot more than a blowjob.
So of course his brain wasn't strong enough to cause protest, because Law did take him back to his place. Sanji gave the small, built from hand house a sort of horrified expression, but liked the quaint setup of the inside. It was only one room but it had all the essentials. Even an icebox with actual ice in there, showing off packaged meat and bottled drinks. Then he made do with his promise, and Law really wasn't ready for it, but Sanji didn't waste any time.
He stripped off his clothes as Law put his mail away, and when he turned, there was a naked man waiting for him on his bed, clothes tossed everywhere. Sanji's body was perfect, and Law stood there and drank in every inch of him for some time before Sanji gestured at him to join him.
"Ha ha, kinky!" he commented when he finally pulled Law's gloves off and saw the tattoos. But he kissed each letter, and when he removed more clothing and saw more tattoos, Sanji kissed every one of them and finally made his way up to his face. When he pulled off his hat, he hovered just over Law's face with his own, breathing him in. "Can I kiss you?"
"Probably not," Law said, thinking that Sanji must do this a lot if he were that comfortable with himself, and it didn't matter. But that was too intimate.
"Just thought I'd ask," Sanji then said with a sigh, drawing him atop of him.
He came prepared, and made Law watch him prepare himself, to encourage him to be ready. Just as he had the other night, he made Law lose all thought. He alternated between languages and pushed, pulled, squeezed and rode him hard, and by the end of it, they were both sticky with sweat and come and it was one of the most satisfying experiences Law ever had.
Night had fallen at that point, and Sanji had come to him a couple of times, draining the life out of him each and every time. Between sessions he'd talk about life back home, about a restaurant he wanted to open once he reached the west coast and about how lucky he was to take a chance on a friend that had yet to make it to town.
"There's three of us, right now," Sanji said, tracing Law's tattoos with his hands, laying between his legs with his elbows over Law's torso. Law had himself propped up on his pillow, drinking the last of his whiskey and sharing it with Sanji but Sanji wasn't that much of a drinker. "There should be five more arriving, soon. After that, we'll move on again."
"You're just a crowd of friends?" Law asked curiously. "Just…passing through?"
"We've got just one goal. Get to the other side. And yours? You're just going to live here in the middle of no where like this and wait for someone like me to pounce?"
"Yep."
"Eventually, the coast catches up. So if you're moving again, you should make out it out west," Sanji said with a wide yawn. "Come visit me in my restaurant. I'll cook you up something nice. Better than this canned crap you have here. All that's there to taste is dirt and dust. It's no wonder you're so skinny."
"Says you," Law pointed out.
"I've got a lot of energy to burn," Sanji admitted. "It's hard being a man-eater."
"You consider yourself a predator?" Law asked with a chuckle. "I don't think you've even seen that type of thing, before."
"You don't think I'm threatening? Then I obviously haven't done my job well," Sanji said, pushing up to lean over him, leaning over to nibble on his chest tattoo. "These are funny looking pictures. What do they mean?"
"It means none of your business."
"After I let you up my ass and everything, you're still on that," Sanji complained, leaning further up to bite his chin. Law pushed him away, rising up from the bed to find his own clothes. The blond relaxed, folding his arms behind his head, and Law, pulling on his pants, had to look over to appreciate the picture. It wasn't very often he had a man like that in his bed. Sanji was the type to have ballads named after him, paintings done. His beauty was just that exquisite.
Sanji lit up a cigarette and blew smoke towards the ceiling. "This has been fun," he murmured as Law rummaged about for food. "Better than being secluded up in that damn hotel. The other two don't mind, but they're damn slugs. As long as Brook has all the music he can play, and Zoro has his goddamn alcohol, they can just sit there and be satisfied. This is torture, almost. It's too hot out here, there's not much to look at, and with all the attacks going on, there's no word from our friends. I'm glad I spotted you, though. You made this much more bearable."
"You're welcome," Law said, looking at the letter again, chewing on some jerky. The family business was growing – expanding westward. They'd catch word of him soon, so it was encouraged for him to continue on. He burned the letter and the envelope it came in over the sink.
"What are you doing?" Sanji asked curiously, rolling onto his stomach to look over.
"Noisy," Law commented, pushing away from the kitchen. "None of your business."
Sanji sat up, waving him over. Lifting onto his knees, he gestured at Law to take his cigarette. Once Law did so, Sanji began kissing his chest again, hands roving over his hips and thighs.
"Again?"
"I am hungry and I always want more," Sanji muttered. "It drives me crazy, it's mostly all I think about. With men and women and I wish I could stop, but I can't. This is how trouble starts."
"Not tonight, then. You've taken it all from me. How about if I tell you you're pretty, instead?"
Sanji laughed. "Please do! Say it to my face. Look at me right in the eyes and tell me all that nice stuff I want to hear. With a straight face. With some damn sincerity."
Law crawled into bed beside him, Sanji cuddling up to him once more, fully comfortable with his nakedness. Stroking his hair, Law stared up at the ceiling, the candle flickering nearby. He told him how pretty he was and said all the nice stuff he heard other people say to their wives out in town, and pretty soon Sanji was snoring over his chest like a content animal.
Law leaned over, blew out the candles, and settled for sleep as well.
Sometime in the night, he was woken up by Sanji pushing at him, whispering low.
"You're the only one living out here, right?" he asked, a slight edge of panic in his tone as Law started stirring. "There's no one else out here?"
"No," Law answered, feeling fully awake. "Why?"
"There's footsteps outside! Too heavy to be anyone I know," Sanji said, pushing away form him and creeping onto the floor, searching for his clothes in the dark.
Law sat up quickly, straining to hear what he did. He heard his horse calling out, and he reached for his rifle, knowing that it was still where he'd left it. But as he did so, the floor creaked too close to him, and a hard force caught him upside the head. He involuntarily slumped over, head ringing, and the house was suddenly full of voices, Sanji cursing out with frustration as men laughed.
When Law finally came to, his place was an absolute mess. Whoever it had been had left nothing unturned, nothing untouched. The only indication Sanji had been there was a discarded cigarette lying on the floor. There was blood spotting from the bed to the door, and Law got up cautiously, holding onto his head as it exploded with a headache.
Wincing, he looked around the inside of his house, then ventured onto the porch. He saw with dismay that they'd killed his horse. There were multiple horse tracks around the house, though, but no sign of Sanji anywhere. He walked back inside, bewildered that his rifle was visible underneath his bed.
At the same time it made sense. When it came into his hands, the rifle was rumored to be cursed. Sometimes, it had a mind of its own.
Rubbing his head, Law looked around his place helplessly. The mail he'd picked up the day before was scattered on the floor, the package open. Someone had sent him a small hand-sized book, and he walked over to it, picking it up with curiosity. Inside was a children's tale – about a cat on the run from some ugly looking dogs. While it spoke of a simple story, the ending vague, the smell of ink and paint suggested that this was his only copy.
He tossed it aside, hands on his hips as he surveyed the damage done to his house. Another item that caught his eye was the pack of cigarettes that Sanji had. The book of matches from the bar was found closer to the kitchen and as he walked in that direction, he caught sight of a single boot lying there.
It wasn't just him targeted, he realized. They'd come for Sanji.
But who?