Chapter 11: Deep Sea

The warm body that Spade rested her head on stirred, causing her to open her eyes blearily. Ace's body heat always made her feel like she was in a sweltering sauna, but she did not mind. His arm was wrapped tightly around her shoulders, locking her protectively against his chest. Spade lifted her head, her skin sticky from sweat, and looked up to see him smiling at her.

"Morning, Skye," he yawned.

"Hey," she smiled, kissing him on the chin. "I guess we should get up. Marco should be arriving today."

"Yeah," Ace said, sitting up and pushing Spade up with him.

"I will dress more modestly today," she said primly, turning and dangling her legs off the edge of the bed. "He always gives me so much shit for distracting everyone—it's very rude."

"I think he mainly means me," said Ace mildly as he pressed a kiss between her shoulder blades. "Apparently, I have a short attention span when I get caught up with you."

"That's ridiculous. If that were true, how'd Ace of Spades ever get anything done?" she grimaced as she clipped her bra back in place and pulled a shirt over her head.

"Hard work and destiny," he answered.

"Two concepts that could not be further apart," Spade said dryly, standing up and searching their room for shorts.

Ace looked at her, surprised. "What d'you mean?"

"You seriously believe in that?" she said, somewhat incredulous. "Destiny?"

"Of course!" he said with startling sincerity. He scrambled up from the bed, hair messily falling over his face. Spade ran her hand through his hair to brush it out of the way. "You don't believe in destiny?"

"I guess not," she said.

"How?" he said, disbelieving. "You don't think you and I were destined to be together?"

"What?" she laughed. "No, Ace, that's so cheesy."

"Are you kiddin'? Our story screams destiny. I found you in a random bar, on a random island. I tried to hit on you, not even recruit you! Only for you to get chased that same night and show me that not only are you a Devil's Fruit user, but you're a wind-user, which is the best match to fire."

"It wasn't totally random," she said. "I was on the run from the Marines, and the island you found me on was the smallest off the shore of a local base…"

"Still, not a super likely chance. Plus, our names, Skye. We are literally Ace of Spades. Our names make a pun. It does not get better than that."

"They're not uncommon names," Spade said shortly, making a movement to exit.

Ace frowned and grabbed her by the wrist. "Am I makin' you mad?"

"No," she said irritably.

"Skye," he groaned, "don't do that thing where I say something stupid and you get mad but never tell me what I did wrong—I'm tryin' to be better but ya gotta help me out! I don't think I said anything bad just now."

"You didn't," she said, frustrated. "It's just…do you really think we're together just because fate or destiny made that happen? We're together just because we're meant to be?"

Ace blinked. "I wanna say yes but I feel like that's not the answer you're looking for."

"I get the sentiment," she said, averting her eyes to the corner of their small cabin room. "It's supposed to be sweet. But having destiny in the picture means that we're never responsible for our own choices, and I want to think that…that despite having slept with over a hundred girls before me—"

"Give or take," Ace muttered.

"You chose me to be your partner long-term," she continued, ignoring him. "And despite hating all pirates and thinking for the most part that men are stupid and incompetent…I chose you, too. But when you say that we're together because we're just meant to be, that…"

Her voice trailed off. God, Spade hated talking about her feelings, but Ace was so straightforward that he made it impossible to avoid the problem. She'd learned the hard way over the last year and a half how much Ace could badger her for the contents of her mind and now knew that talking things through made life easier in the long run. Who would've thought that Portgas D. Ace, of all people, would eventually believe in open and honest communication to build a healthy relationship?

Ace pulled her into his arms.

"It cheapens things, a little bit?" he guessed.

"Just a little," she mumbled.

He tightened his hold around her and pressed his lips to the top of her head.

"I take responsibility for you," he said. "I never thought for a second that it wasn't my choice. But I still believe in fate. I think that's what brought us together in person and then we had to choose everything beyond that. They can work together, y'know."

"Sure," she said, lifting her head and kissing him on the cheek.

"You're just humorin' me, aren't ya?"

"No, I think there's coincidence or chance and you can call that fate if you want."

"Fine," he said. "But I don't mean it just related to us, y'know. Some people were just born to do things. Like Pops. He's meant to be Pirate King."

Spade smiled. She'd never understood Ace's firm reverence for Whitebeard, but she admired it all the same.

"Not you?" she said jokingly.

Ace's face hardened and he shook his head. "I dunno if I was meant to be born at all."

Before she could ask, there was a knock on the door from one of the men, announcing that Marco had arrived. Ace's expression cleared and he led her cheerily out of the room, excited to see his best friend. Spade didn't forget that look on Ace's face, but never asked about what he'd meant. It was only right before Ace's death, when she found out that he was the son of Gol D. Roger, why Ace had been such a firm believer in the fickle thing called Fate.

And it made her believe in it even less.


The Polar Tang was deathly quiet as it glided through the seas overnight. No one was around, as most of the Heart Pirates were crammed in the mess hall earlier discussing who had won the bet, while the subjects of the bet were most likely fulfilling the objectives of said bet. Uni had declined to participate in the pool, given that he found it disrespectful to the captain, and also he did not have much money to spare on trivial things. He was saving up for a new set of scalpels; the most recent issue of the Underworld version of Naval Medicine had showcased a brilliant "never rusts, never needs sharpening" kit of scalpels of varying sizes made of titanium, diamond, and Kairouseki. They were hideously expensive but extremely unique. Uni had always wondered how surgery using Kairouseki tools on a Devil's Fruit user would affect their powers beyond the immediate post-operative period. It was an interest shared with Captain Law, but being a Devil's Fruit user himself, Law was cautious with the idea of operating with seastone. Uni was certain Law would give him the money if he knew how invested his crewman was in acquiring these blades, but Uni did not want to trouble his captain with a simple and personal interest.

To earn some extra cash, Uni offered to take Shachi's shift manning the cell that currently held one of the Yonkou's Titanic Captains for one thousand beli an hour. It was a pretty hefty sum, but Shachi was one of the weaker members of the crew and was jittery at the thought of guarding a Yonkou Captain alone. Uni was not frightened and did not mind, even though it meant a twelve-hour shift. If anything, he was used to half-day shifts, having been professionally trained as a surgeon in his hometown in North Blue. He was nothing compared to his captain, the son of Flevance's most prestigious doctor, but he was qualified enough that he was Law's first assist on all surgical cases.

Uni first met Law when the Heart Pirates had started making a name for themselves in North Blue, which was saying something because Law had only been sixteen at the time. Though he had not yet earned the epithet "Surgeon of Death," rumors ran abound that the Heart Pirates were qualified in all medical specialties, which was slightly farfetched given how broad the field truly was.

It was Uni's first trauma call as an attending when the Heart Pirates had stormed the hospital he was working in. "Stormed" was perhaps not the most accurate descriptor. Law always held hospitals in reverence, and so the team had really just waltzed in to the emergency department, but the site of a horde of men in drab gray boiler suits flocking a teenager with discolored skin and gaunt shadows under his eyes felt as much of a disruption as any.

"May I help you?" Uni, the most junior attending at the time, asked them cautiously.

"I need some supplies. One of my crewmen has a bowel obstruction. I really just need some sterile materials to work with." The boy's voice was inflectionless but commanding. Uni couldn't help but shudder at the way Law's eyes looked like cesspools of cement.

"That's an emergency. You should bring him here."

Law barely blinked. "He's a polar bear."

Uni really didn't know what to say to that, but a horde of other trauma victims suddenly entered the bay (the city he was from was really rife with crime) so he'd sent Law out with the materials he'd asked and went to attend to other matters.

The truth was, Uni didn't really enjoy being a surgeon. If he'd had a chance to redo his life, he would've chosen to pursue forensic pathology, because he loved cutting things up and not having to worry about whether his patient lived or not. Sometimes, he was seized with the urge of cutting simply to learn—if he anastomosed this artery with another, what would be the ramifications? Could animal parts be used as prosthetics? Lastly, what were the structural changes that occurred on a cellular level for Devil's Fruit users? Could the power be harnessed, replicated, separated from the body itself? There were many answers Uni sought, but very few methods to do so ethically.

The night after Law had appeared in the emergency room, Uni was in the middle of a complicated case: malignant pheochromocytoma with disseminated metastases into the peritoneum. It was a rare and honestly fruitless case, but the surgical technical skills required to remove the endocrine tumor were of the highest level. The slightest disturbance of any part of the tumor could cause an immediate release of catecholamines that could lead to deathly cardiovascular complications. Uni had been delicately removing tiny yellow globs of tumor for six hours when the doors to the O.R. burst open and in waltzed a stranger, fully scrubbed and properly sterilized.

"Who the fuck are you?" Uni demanded, not recognizing the shadowed eyes that peered back at him over the surgical mask.

"We met yesterday. My name is Trafalgar Law. I'm the Captain of the Heart Pirates and I'm a surgeon. I've been searching for a first assist and your name has cropped up several times. I'd like to evaluate your skills."

"The fuck? You're a kid—how the hell would you be able to 'evaluate' my skills?"

"I'm board-certified, don't worry," Law said, ignoring the nurses and scrub technicians gaping at him. "I got an overview from one of the nurses outside about this case. Metastatic pheos are fairly rare—I'd like to see how you approach this operation."

"Get the fuck outta here," Uni said angrily.

"I don't take orders well," Law said, eyes narrowed, voice as sharp as the scalpel Uni was holding. "Know that should I extend you the offer to join my ship, you'll be deferring to me, not the other way around."

"You lil—"

The entire room was engulfed in a pale blue light, and Law snatched the scalpel out of Uni's hand. With one quick swipe to his left, the blade cut through the nearest scrub tech's body, bisecting it completely. A scream echoed through the O.R. as the tech grappled for his now separated lower body, but no blood spilled from the cut. The bisected halves fell to the ground, and the tech whimpered from his upper body.

"What the fuck?!"

"Work," Law said calmly, handing the scalpel back to Uni. "Let's see what you can do. If I'm impressed, I'll put your technician back together."

"How did you do that?"

"You are in no position to demand answers from me. Operate."

And so Uni did, cowed in the presence of Law's command. Never mind that Law was a teenager—something about him felt imposing in a way that Uni had never experienced, even from his most senior attendings. Law watched him with the concentration of a hawk stalking its prey, mostly in silence, though when Uni removed a metastasis that was dangerously close to the abdominal aorta, Law stopped him just in time from nicking the giant blood vessel.

When the surgery finally finished, almost three hours later, Law stayed true to his word and put the bisected technician back together. He was entirely unharmed. Uni closed up the incisions and was finishing tying the last superficial stitch when Law made his offer.

"My Devil's Fruit ability allows me to control anything and anyone within a given Room," he said. "I could've completed this case in less than five minutes, with likely higher accuracy. Nonetheless, your technical skills are decent enough and I hear your interests are varied." His steely eyes captured Uni's gaze. "With me involved, you can operate as you see fit, without fear of patients dying. Unless I want them to."

"You want me to join your crew?" Uni said, aghast. "Why? I just became an attending. I can start a family, have a job, earn a solid living."

Even behind the mask, Law was smirking. "Who the fuck cares about that?"

Uni became a member of the Heart Pirates that very night. He never regretted it.


Spade woke up and the room was dark. Someone was breathing deeply beside her, and a clock ticked twice with each breath.

She felt absolutely terrible, like she'd been trapped under the Polar Tang for hours and had to have the submarine rolled off her body to be freed. She was quite certain she'd woken up because she was in so much pain. Every muscle ached, especially in her back, and her head throbbed. As she sat up, she winced with the movement. There was that sharp pain between her legs that only served as a reminder that she had just let Trafalgar Law fuck her in a manner that she really shouldn't have. The way Trafalgar Law fucked could be described as many things, but gentle was not one of them.

Said man was sleeping soundly beside her, flat on his back with his arm draped loosely over her pillow. No part of his body was touching her. Spade had been correct in her assumption that he was not a cuddling kind of person; she'd been surprised that he'd offered his bed at all, given how he was angled at the very edge of the bed with determination.

She took some time to look at him. Law looked oddly peaceful when asleep, his normally furrowed brow smoothed by his dreams, his tattooed chest rising and falling with every breath. He looked like a living work of art. She was surprised he hadn't woken up with her movements.

Gingerly, Spade crawled out of bed, itching to shower. All the rooms of the Polar Tang echoed in some way, given that all walls were made of metal, so she was particularly careful to not make a sound as she made her way to Law's private bathroom. She'd always used the communal showers before, but given that she'd just had sex with the captain, she was in no mood to meet any of the rest of the Heart Pirates and answer any of their judgmental gazes.

The entirety of Law's room, with the exception of his desk, was pristine, and his bathroom was no different. It was a rectangular tiled room, with a small shower tucked in the corner and a ceramic bath seated at the right side. A private bathroom was a luxury already, but the taps on the bathtub looked like they were made of real silver. There were no garish decorations, and quite honestly the bathroom was rather austere, but the amount Law must've spent on the room was not small. Further proving this point, Spade was happy to find that unlike most pirates, Law appreciated hygiene and kept quite high-quality cleansing materials in his bathroom. They were mint-scented, a respectable, un-offensive fragrance for all genders.

She drew a bath and sank in the tub when the water was still scalding, but she did not mind. Spade felt somewhat disgusting, covered in blood, sweat, salt, and probably Law somewhere too. Feeling like he owed her, she used Law's luxury products liberally, scrubbing the dried bodily fluids off her skin and hair. The steam filled the bathroom and she allowed herself to relax a little in it as she reflected on what had just happened.

Spade had long nursed the inkling that her preference in the bedroom had changed slightly since Ace's death. Perhaps it wasn't Ace's death itself that had been the trigger, but rather her assumption of the role of Hurricane. Ace had always been more sexually experienced than she was, but the fun they had between the sheets always felt collaborative and open. In the bedroom and outside of it, Spade had always been Ace's partner and vice versa.

It was the few times she'd slept with Marco after becoming the Whitebeards' Underworld contact that Spade began to notice how she enjoyed the sex more if Marco was a bit rough with her. Rarely, when they were frustrated with each other and their situation as a whole, Marco's actions became less than delicate, and Spade liked it. She liked that she could turn off her brain, could let Marco do what he wanted and feel liberated when he fucked her with complete abandon, because that's what Spade wanted too—to stop thinking, even for a brief moment, about anything and everything.

If Marco noticed, he never mentioned it. His profuse apologies after a more animalistic coupling made Spade disinclined to bring up her preferences; she knew they would bother him, and honestly, they bothered her, too. Spade had always been an argumentative, headstrong woman in a world ruled by men. What would it say about her if she liked being dominated in the sheets? Any deep self-reflection on the trait made her slightly nauseous. No one knew, and no one had to know—it wasn't like Spade would let anyone she didn't trust with her life touch her, and Marco would ignore this change in her until the day he died because acknowledging it would only make him feel more guilty about their relationship, and he had plenty of that already.

Of course, that all changed now. She just had fairly rough sex with Trafalgar Law, he had made her beg for it, and he knew she'd liked it.

Spade wanted to drown herself. What the fuck was wrong with her? The conviction to leave the Heart Pirates after recognizing the attraction she felt for their captain had disappeared the moment she'd seen him after finishing off Burgess. She honestly had not expected him to return, and seeing him there made Spade realize just how much she'd wanted him in the first place.

This was a dangerous, slippery gangplank she was attempting to traverse. Law was not someone she should turn her brain off around. She was frightened of people who thought too much, and Law thought more than anyone she knew, including herself. What was she doing, willing putting herself in his hands to abuse as he saw fit?

It was a one time thing, she told herself. But that was stupid, because Spade couldn't do one night stands and already the thought of Law's sleeping profile back in his room made her hot. It wasn't just physical. She just wasn't capable of acting purely on physical attraction.

Which meant that Law had already sunk his claws into her heart, shallow enough that she could rip them out and still survive, but deep enough that it would hurt significantly should she force the break.

Fuck, she thought. This wasn't supposed to happen.

But Spade wanted it. She wanted Law. She didn't know in what capacity and to what extent, but sleeping with him had crossed a self-drawn line that meant more. Yet, Law wasn't the same. Law was casual with his trysts and that reputation was well known. Spade did not think she was any different from Eustass Kid and even Robin—Law might've been more interested than normal because Spade had held out for longer, but now that they'd fucked, there was nothing left for him to pursue. He'd wanted to break her, and last night, he'd gotten it.

Law did not want her in whatever exclusive or romantic capacity—she was sure of it. Deluding herself in any other way would only get her hurt, or worse, killed.

Marco had always told Spade that she cared too little until she cared too much.


Two hours before Uni's shift was complete, Skye Spade wandered down the dark hall and appeared in front of the cell that Uni was guarding. She looked freshly showered and scrubbed clean, and she was wearing a loose-fitting T-shirt that was large enough to fall past her shorts. Uni wondered if the shirt belonged to the captain, but decided not to ask.

The Heart Pirate had only had one prior conversation with the somewhat legendary Spade, and that had been whether there were any more vegetables onboard. Beyond that, Uni had never felt particularly inclined to talk to her; the captain's interest in her was clear, but Uni had been one of the few who had been against the Strawhat alliance and even more against the presence of a dangerous Whitebeard affiliate on their ship. He had no intent to cross her path, for better or for worse.

Spade was respectful and got along easily with most of the Heart Pirates, but she seemed to understand Uni's distance and never made a move to bridge that gap. Having her approach him now, therefore, felt eerie.

"Has he made any noise?" Spade asked without any other greeting.

"No," Uni answered, voice quiet behind his mask. "I believe he's still out cold."

Spade nodded and made a movement to walk past him. He stretched out his arm, blocking her path.

"What do you think you're doing?" she said, green eyes narrowed, voice so soft it made Uni contain a shudder. Spade sometimes had a similar vibe to Captain Law whenever he was in a mood.

"I have not received Captain's orders regarding the prisoner," Uni said. "Until I do, no one is to see him."

"Burgess is my prisoner," she said coldly. "Your captain brought him on this sub for me. I guarantee you, Trafalgar will have no issue."

Uni paused, but finally stepped aside. There were some battles worth fighting, but this wasn't one of them. Spade was correct. There was no reason for Law to have a problem.

He unlocked the heavy metal door and pushed it open, allowing Spade to walk in first. The sound of her footsteps resonated with dull thuds that sounded heavier than they should've been for a woman of her stature. The cell, a round, small compartment, was tucked on the lowest level of the submarine with no windows and lit only by two flickering torches. Burgess was chained to the wall with Kairouseki cuffs, his impressive profile making his cell appear even more cramped. His face was bloodied and his eyes closed, but his breathing was audible despite being shallow.

"Kairouseki was a good precaution," she said, her voice echoing in the chamber. "I didn't get the sense he could use any Devil's Fruits abilities, but it doesn't hurt to be careful."

"Of course."

"Uni," Spade said after a brief silence. "I have some questions for Burgess. I will not kill him, but he will not talk freely without some encouragement." She looked at Uni with a glint in her eyes that was indescribable. "You can step outside. This may get gruesome."

Uni felt a rush through his veins and was careful to keep his voice even as he replied.

"You will torture him?" he said casually, as if inquiring about the weather.

Spade blinked. "Of course. If that bothers you—"

"It does not in the slightest," Uni interrupted. "I was curious to see how a man of Burgess's stature would hold up under painful persuasion. If you do not mind, I would like to remain and watch."

Spade stared at him, and Uni returned her gaze squarely. Her lips curled.

"I suppose it makes sense that this crew isn't full of fuzzy cute polar bears," she said. "Fine, then, you can watch. Just don't blame me if you get sick."

Uni wouldn't dream of it.


Law woke up the next day with the excellent, satisfied feeling in his muscles that always accompanied good sex. His hips felt slightly sore from where he'd carried the bulk of Spade's weight when he'd toyed with her against the wall, and his thighs ached subtly too, but it had all been worth it. Just the thought of Spade's desperate, "Please" made Law half-hard. He turned to his side, expecting to find her on his bed and ready for a morning round, but was surprised to find the bed cold and empty.

He paused, thinking. Law was a notoriously light sleeper, and it unsettled him that Spade could climb over him, out of bed, and leave the room without him waking up at all. It meant that if she'd wanted to kill him, Law could have very likely slept through his own murder.

Slightly disappointed, Law sat up and stretched. The clock read eight o'clock, which gave him pause. Law always woke up around six on his own; things just felt very off, and he briefly wondered if Spade had drugged him, before remembering just how heated and needy she'd been the night before and discarded the suspicion.

The surgeon tossed on a T-shift over his gray sweatpants and left the room to search for food and for Spade. Having the two for breakfast sounded delightful.

He was on his way to the mess when he heard a sound akin to a high, bloodcurdling scream, and he paused. The voice did not belong to anyone from his crew. Was it Spade? It didn't quite sound like her, but the thought of her being under so much duress unnerved him.

Law headed toward the dungeons, stride swift and long, and threw open the cell door that he knew held Burgess.

He was greeted by blood splattered all over the cell floor, all over Uni, who was standing impassively in the corner, and all over Spade, whose long black tresses fell freely over her face. She didn't even look at him. She had a knife in one hand and several flesh-colored pieces in her other. Burgess was whimpering, a sound uncharacteristic of a man his size, but Spade looked down on him with an expression of ice as she tossed what was clearly pieces of Burgess's skin onto the blood-soaked floor.

"Well, you made it through your fingernails without screaming," she said callously. "That's something. Skinning is always what gets people though."

"Miss Spade," Law said coolly.

"Good morning, Captain Trafalgar."

"You bitch," Burgess said with venomous loathing as he saw Law. "You teamed up with this bitch to betray us?"

"You need to come up with better insults," Spade said dryly. "If you call us both bitches, how am I gonna know who you're complaining about?"

Something in Law felt like it was on fire and he tried very hard to temper it. There were many things he'd found attractive about Spade—her control, her acidity, her sharp tongue and her strength—but seeing Spade so cold while torturing someone was on an entirely different level. Law had spent his entire life believing that he was the only one this conflicted, the only one who struggled between wanting to do good while loving evil just a little too much to be normal. Whether it was Doflamingo who had imprinted into him or it had existed in Law from birth just didn't matter. Seeing Spade, who tried so very hard to fight for everything she believed was right and for the people she loved, exhibiting that infamous control while flaying Burgess was so fucked up and disgusting but so beautiful.

"Miss Spade," Law said again.

"If you're gonna make me stop, the answer is no," she said in that same detached voice. "I'm getting good info. They broke out Doflamingo so he can teach them how to make a factory like the SMILE one. Doflamingo's request in return was you."

"That's not surprising," he replied. "I wasn't going to stop you. I merely wanted to say that skinning is rather…rudimentary."

She arched an eyebrow at him. "It's working."

Law gave a cruel smirk. "Miss Spade. Your Marine background is showing. Marines have always been so painfully uncreative in this regard."

"You've never been in Impel Down," she said pointedly.

"True," he yielded, "but there is no one as skilled at torture as Doflamingo is. I learned from the best."

Law created a Room that engulfed the cell, and with one casual swipe, Burgess was screaming so loudly that Spade covered her ears. All of Burgess's remaining skin seemed to levitate millimeters off the rest of his body, only to resume their initial position once the scream died down.

"The Ope Ope no Mi introduces an entirely different world of torture," Law said, "especially when I can put back the pieces I've broken."

He found Spade watching him, her pupils dilated.

"Mister Burgess," Law said over the wheezes of the Titanic Captain, "understand that what you felt was an appetizer of what I'm truly capable of. I will return later today with some questions. Think wisely of how you want to answer them."

Law extended a hand to Spade. "I don't believe you've had breakfast yet."

She looked like she wanted to take his hand and devour him. Instead, she brushed past him with a whisper.

"I'll be waiting in your room."


Law did not take long to get breakfast. If anything, Spade was fairly certain he'd just gone to give orders to the rest of his team not to disturb them because she'd barely stepped into the shower when Law appeared behind her, clothes already discarded, and began mouthing at her neck. She leaned into him, her body hot and craving his touch that he seemed only eager to give. His hands slid over her hips, down her thighs, his dark skin tracing the bruises he'd left only hours earlier, as he pulled her so tightly against him she felt like she would melt into him. She had reservations about this, about him, about everything, but she did not dwell on them because all she could think of was this incredible desire to fuck Law after seeing how such a little action on his part could make a man like Burgess scream.

Spade turned her head so her mouth could find his and they kissed, tongues toying with each other, while the hot water of the shower poured over both their faces. She brought her arm behind her, around his neck, and pressed into his mouth deeper. Every part of her wanted to sink into him, every surface of her skin wanted to be touching his, and more than anything she wanted him to be buried deep inside her. This kind of desire, uncontrollable and dangerous, was new to her—everything in her mind screamed to back away but she couldn't, she didn't want to. Law's presence was a drug that, after a one-time use, now exposed the extent of its addictive properties. Spade was already beginning to make obscene noises as Law's fingers found way between her legs and made quick work of her remaining resistances.

"You learn quickly," he said, his other hand holding her tightly against him. "No more hiding those sounds, are you?"

"Don't tease," she said, teeth gritted and face flushed, as the fingers inside her pumped slowly.

"Don't order," he countered, quickening his pace. "That's for me to do."

"Law," she whispered. She felt his teeth sink into her shoulder and knew that the sound of his name in that tone, her own begging tone, made him insane. So she did it again. "Law."

The bite into her shoulder became almost painful and Spade almost screamed as three of Law's fingers thrust into her violently and she was close, God this was going to be such a fast orgasm and it was just going to be from his fingers, just a little more of that pain overlapping pleasure and she would be there—

He pulled out and Spade collapsed back onto him, gasping for air and ready to kill him.

"You fucking asshole."

"You're not in the right position to be making insults," he said. He brought his hand, covered in her fluids mixed with the scalding shower water, up to her lips. "Suck."

"You—"

He shoved two of his fingers in her mouth, almost causing her to gag, as his other hand played with her breasts. Spade could've bitten him, and a part of her really wanted to, but the majority of her could only think of how she'd wanted Law's fingers in her mouth since that first night. As she obediently licked away her own essence off his fingers, her tongue trailed over the calluses of his digits.

"I know what you're trying to do," he said, voice soft by her ear as she continued to suck. "Calling my name, trying to set the pace on your own. Don't be foolish, Spade." He pinched her nipple and Spade moaned, the sound muffled against his fingers. "I'll get you off. It'll just be on my terms. Don't try something like that again."

He took his fingers out of her mouth and used both hands to grope her breasts briefly before sliding them down the rest of her body. She could feel his cock pressed between her back and his stomach; he was already so hard, she had to be impressed that he could remain this levelheaded.

"Bend over," he ordered. "Hands against the wall."

She didn't resist and did so, palms trying to find traction against the slippery tiles. Law did not waste time—he was buried to the hilt in her in a matter of seconds, with no preparation, no adjustment. Spade whimpered, a searing pain shooting her insides, rebelling in protest as her legs shook with the effort to keep this position. She was still wildly sore from the night before, still injured from her fight, but stopping seemed out of the question. Law's stiff prick moved with rigid purpose and Spade could only be grateful that he did not appear to be interested in taking it slow. She felt the pressure in her lower abdomen build with each thrust, as the ache between her legs melted into an undeniable pleasure. She gripped the wall for purchase and found none. The water from the shower caused her to slip and almost fall over, had Law not been supporting her hips. At her loss of stability, he pulled out and turned her around so her back was against the wall.

It was not unexpected that Law preferred to fuck so impersonally. At the sight of his face, Spade realized that neither of them had seen each other's expressions as they'd come the night before. She was certain Law would've liked to keep it that way, being a man who had such limited emotional expressions in the first place. She didn't mind. It made sense to her, confirmed that whatever this was for her, Law saw it just as sex. There was no grander connection, nothing that he dwelled on. If it was just that for him, then things remained simple and whatever delicate, immature feelings she had for him could be managed simply because they were not reciprocated.

Much to her surprise, instead of moving them out of the shower onto the bed where he could take her on all fours, Law rather gently lifted her up so that her legs were wrapped around his waist. He entered her again, this time slowly, carefully, and Spade leaned her forehead against his and buried her hands in his wet hair as Law took her indolently.

Her shallow breaths mingled with his and she let herself stop thinking about anything beyond the climbing pleasure inundating her, the stability of Law's lean body supporting her weight, the heat of the shower as the bathroom fogged. Law looked incredible like this, hair soaked, breath ragged and expression focused on her and only her; his gray eyes were half-lidded and he looked mesmerized with her. Their gazes were locked, which shouldn't have been as discomforting as Spade found it to be, but she did not avert her eyes.

It was Law who broke the intimate contact first, when he leaned up and pressed his mouth open against hers. His hands on her waist tightened and the pace of his thrusts began to climb. Spade winced with the sudden change but did not stop him, feeling her lower body clench as Law plunged into her deep. A broken moan sounded through the bathroom and Spade realized it was her only as the blinding wave of pleasure dulled into an afterglow. Law's rhythm became irregular and Spade, dazed in the oversensitivity of her orgasm, watched his face as he reached his peak and fell over it. He kissed her as he sheathed himself one last time and the heat of his seed bloomed inside of her.

Law had the face of an innocent man only when he slept and when he came.

The pitter-patter of the shower followed as both of them caught their breaths. Law, movements delicate, pulled out of her while supporting her weight carefully with his arms before bringing her down onto her feet. She staggered slightly, but he trapped her between his body and the wall, preventing her from falling over. They looked at each other, uncertain.

She felt it. Whatever they had, chemistry, connection, whatever sentimental thing it could be called—she felt it. It was dangerous and stupid and they'd just fucked each other and watched each other come like they were intimate with each other, like they were some ridiculous couple in love. That was too far. Law was on the wrong side of morality if Spade was looking for a partner; she needed someone she could trust to always do what was right, what was good, because if she fell off the deep end of her own thoughts, she needed someone who could pull her back.

Law kissed her again, tenderly, in the direction that Spade knew she was supposed to run away from. This didn't mean anything to him. Spade was in her own head, twisted in knots that couldn't be undone, while Law was likely still trapped in the pleasant exhilaration of his orgasm. They were not on the same page, and she pulled away from his kiss, upset and unable to verbalize why. He chased after her, teeth catching her lower lip and sucking as his hands roamed her body like he was mapping territory he was comfortable with.

She broke it off by pushing against his chest. He gazed down at her, expression dark and questioning of the rejection.

"We should get out of the shower," she muttered. "We're wasting water."

Law nodded, expression clearing with this practical excuse, and turned the knob off, leaving both of them dripping wet. He guided her into the bedroom, where he located two clean towels and tossed one over to her. As they dried themselves off, Law spoke, his voice husky.

"Spade. What do you want from Burgess?"

She looked at him, startled by the question. In retrospect, she shouldn't have thought Law was as simple as other men. He had clearly been thinking about something other than sex, or perhaps at the same time. Whatever the reason, she welcomed it. Better to talk about work and business than to discuss feelings and to have Law comment on how inexplicably submissive she was when he handled her.

"Anything," she said honestly. "Where Blackbeard's ships are, why they attacked the Revolutionary Army, who do they have fighting for them…"

"Did he say how they'd broken Doflamingo out of Impel Down?" Law asked as he pulled on a pair of ripped jeans.

"Yeah," she said, her tone practiced and neutral. She had suspected her old mentor's involvement since Laffitte's not-so-subtle hint, but it made Burgess's confirmation no easier to swallow. "They had Aokiji."

Law looked stunned. "The ex-Admiral?"

"Yeah, there have been rumors in the Underworld that Kuzan joined Blackbeard," Spade said. "It's just unfortunate to hear it for sure."

He grimaced. "That's a huge gain for Blackbeard."

"I know."

Law looked at her appraisingly. "You were Kuzan's student, weren't you?"

She nodded curtly. "He disowned me after I deserted though. Don't forget he was right there at my execution, waiting to do the deed himself."

"Seems a bit hypocritical of him now that he's left the Marines too."

"I'm sure he doesn't see it that way," she said, making sure she sounded resentful. Guarding Marco from strangers was one thing, but her affiliation with the Whitebeards was obvious and understandable. Very few knew that Aokiji had been the reason she'd even gotten off that executioner's platform in the first place. She would go to the grave before letting anyone know just how frequently she was in contact with the ex-Admiral, and that he was in Blackbeard's ranks by their agreement.

Seeing that she was just wrapped in a towel, Law dug into his drawers and handed her a hoodie and pair of sweatpants.

"I have my own clothes, Trafalgar. I don't want to look like your whore."

He frowned. "That wasn't my intention. Plus, no one on this ship thinks like that."

"Spoken like a true man," she scoffed. "Everyone thinks like that. As a woman, sleeping with you reduces my credibility dramatically."

"I don't select my crewmembers like that," Law said coldly. "Whatever dynamic that occurs behind closed doors remains there—judgment for sexual activity is something that is stamped out the moment they step aboard the Polar Tang."

"That seems unlikely, especially when you've made it a rule not to sleep with your crewmembers."

"That's different," he said, stepping over toward her with clothes in hand. "I'm their captain, so there's a power dynamic there. I'd never be able to tease out if I'm forcing anyone to do something against their will, even if they said it was consensual."

"And you're not forcing me?" she said dryly as he pulled his shirt over her head.

"I'm trying to prevent you from getting a cold," he said. "And if you mean sex, both times have been initiated by you."

Spade didn't answer and let Law dress her. He was patient and gentle, tugging the towel off her body as he let the hoodie fall past her waist.

"Arms in the sleeves," he said, amused as she glared at him from beneath the hood. "Do you want me to put on your pants, too?"

"I got it," she said shortly, appropriately dressing herself in the mustard-colored shirt. "This hoodie is hideous."

"On the contrary, I like the sign of my Jolly Roger on you."

Law was such a contradiction—he could go from business-like and professional to teasing and flirtatious in a matter of minutes. Perhaps it was because he'd just gotten laid.

Or perhaps it was because he was easing up around her too.

Spade brushed aside the thought, even as Law pulled the hood off her wet hair and bent down to kiss her. She let him because she enjoyed it, and enjoyed that Law being careful with her even though it was a measly whim only she entertained. Sensing that she was responding encouragingly, Law brought his hands around her waist and held her against his bare chest, the sound of his heartbeat reassuring against her own.

"I have to say," he murmured against her lips, "that being capable of torture is a plus in my books."

"You really a creepy asshole," she said.

Law chuckled. "You hardly have room to talk."

"I don't enjoy it," she said warningly.

Law's eyes darkened. "Really? The look in your eyes when you were skinning Burgess said otherwise." Her breath hitched as Law mouthed at her jawline. "It's not a bad thing, Spade, as long as you can control it."

"Like you can?" she whispered, hating how easily her body responded to his touch.

"Even I slip up sometimes if I get angry. But yes, I'm largely very controlled. So tell me what you want from Burgess, Spade, and I'll find out for you."

She stepped out of his reach.

"Everything," she said. "Anything and everything, and you can tell Marco what you find in person."

Law's eyes flickered. "You're bringing me to him?"

"I will," she relented. "Just you, though. We need the rest of your crew to distract from Blackbeard if they're following Burgess's Vivre card."

"You want me to walk into Whitebeard territory alone?" he said. "Do you take me for a fool, Miss Spade?"

"Oh, we're back to fucking your grade-school teacher," she said, smile wry. "Now that the intimacy's gone, we're back to normal, aren't we?"

Law slid his hand around her jaw. "This is the way things should've been from the beginning, Miss Spade. You did not need to resist for so long."

"Sleeping with you took trust," she answered calmly. "If you want to meet Marco, you'll need to trust me too."

Law looked hesitant, and because Spade was feeling a conglomerate of conflicting emotions and could not make up her mind, she took his hand in hers. She realized it now, that she had always liked Law's hands, tattooed and all, and that this was her way of showing comfort when he seemed so resistant to anything sentimental otherwise. It was normal for Law to be cautious—smart, even. But Marco would not hurt him if he were Spade's guest, and every other Whitebeard deferred to Marco, no matter how much they resented Spade.

"Very well," Law said thinly. "I am putting my life in your hands, as unwise as that may be."

"I'm offended. It's not like you literally had my heart in your hands just days ago."

"True," he smirked. "I suppose it's back in its rightful place now."

It was, beating evenly at a regular rate and rhythm inside her ribcage. It was not in Law's hands, where the slightest squeeze could cause catastrophic pain.

What a fool she was, to think that she was free.