Chapter 23

Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece, but Kyra is my idea.

Beta'd by Tomas the Betrayer.

Law runs his tongue up his magician's throat, feathering his fingers over the bare skin of her stomach. She twitches against him, trying to move away and pressing herself deeper into the snow as he takes the lobe of her ear between his teeth. He has recently discovered the ability to alter the clothing Kyra wears in their shared dreams, and he is taking full advantage of that tonight by having her don a midriff-baring halter top that hugs her curves and leaves a good portion of her lower back exposed. The girl is extremely self-conscious about the multitude of scars decorating her torso, though the Surgeon of Death finds them fascinating. So many life-threatening injuries rained down upon this slip of a woman; it's amazing that she hasn't died already.

The pirate's wandering digits pause at a deep gash just under her rib cage, tapping out a nonsense rhythm and shifting to watch her delicious blood coat his fingers. Kyra's breath hitches and she shoves at him, attempting to escape to the side. He shushes her gently, free hand rubbing soothingly against her cold arm.

"Just relax," he breathes into her ear, nose buried in her hair. "It won't hurt as much if you stop fighting me, my magician."

Law grins at how his words sound, amused at the scenarios that immediately come to mind. The dreamscape shifts around them: the moonlit field of snow dissolves into a dark room with some unfixed light point rotating somewhere over their heads. The bed is large, the sheets of fine-quality satin. The blackness of the fabric is a perfect contrast to Kyra's milk-white skin, with her terrified eyes darting around like trapped animals in the cages of her optical sockets. Law knows that she hates her lack of control in these dreams, hates that he has all the power, hates that she cannot wake up until he allows it. If the surgeon so wishes it, Kyra could spend an entire dream frozen, completely without the ability to move as he plays with her. On nights when the Dark Doctor wants to punish his wayward crew member for her three months unauthorized furlough, this comes in handy - although he has yet to steal her voice from her. Listening to her cries when she is unable to muffle them is very entertaining.

Two weeks his magician has been back on his sub. During the day she follows him like an obedient ghost, hardly speaking a word unless it's directed at Aaron, the timid little brat she brought back with her. The kid is weirdly attached to Kyra, considering he was to be a sacrifice on her account. Aside from the boy, Kyra shows no sign of acknowledgement on the few occasions the braver of his men try to speak to her. Bepo avoids her - Law thinks his first mate is still upset about the hearth rug threat - and Jambarl has developed the habit of looming menacingly around her whenever she is not shut up in the infirmary or his captain's quarters. She ignores it all. Sachi and Penguin have tentatively tried to draw her into harmless conversations with no success. Neil hisses filth at her at every opportunity while his captain turns a purposely deaf ear. No one but Law himself and the kid manages to drag a reaction out of her.

The stubborn wench barely eats, initially refused to sleep until forcefully sedated, and watches everything through dull blue eyes that irritate the hell out of the Surgeon of Death. He takes out his frustration in these dreams, adding to her extensive collection of scars a little more each night. Kyra is always healed before morning, not even blood on the sheets to give proof to what he does to her. The only evidence is the new mark, hidden from the others by her clothing.

Law smiles down at his magician, bringing his bloody fingers to his mouth and lapping off the sweet crimson liquid. He then lowers his still wet digits to the skin right over her breastbone, tracing his favorite addition: a tattoo of his Jolly Roger, grinning out of Kyra's chest all to see. It had been quite the successful experiment to see if a tattoo given in the dreamscape would carry over into reality. The twisted doctor is well pleased with the results, very much approving of that black smile on his woman.

There is no pulse underneath his hand, which only widens Law's smirk while Kyra squirms beneath him. Her heart is safe, somewhere she will never find it no matter how hard she tries. When she initially joined his crew, Law told Bepo to give her a thorough tour of every room but the crew's quarters and his own for a reason. His little hiding place will remain a secret from her, Kyra's heart accessible only to him. It will come to no harm, so she really has nothing to complain about. It's probably safer with him than in her, as she has a habit of landing herself in dangerous situations.

"What would your dearly departed mother say now, Kyra?" he hisses, leaning down to nip at her chin. "What would she say to know her precious daughter is bonded to pirate scum? That you crave my touch, whether you admit it or not? That your precious magic chose someone like me as your soulmate? Do you think she would still be so proud of you now, my little monster? Would she still see you as her darling daughter, or would she have handed you over to the shaman just as fast as your cousin did?"

It has become a favorite pastime, needling Kyra about her family. Some nights he conjures images of the young man for whom she left him, makes her watch as he cuts her cousin into pieces. Other dreams Law simply talks about his magician's dead mother. On really good nights, when he feels particularly vindictive, he does both.

He likes to bring the spark back to her eyes, and the fastest way to do that is to make her extremely angry.

Right on cue, the shifting light in the room hits Kyra's face, highlighting the murderous look she is giving him and revealing the rage in her blue orbs. Her hands strike out at him, one barely missing his cheek in the poor lighting while the other connects hard with his bare chest. Law chuckles lowly, shifting so that he straddles her thighs and grabbing one flailing hand as she swings at him again. He uses his hold to pull her up, wrapping his arms around her torso and drawing her against him. Tattooed fingers trace the brand on her back, feeling the way she twitches and shivers at his touch. The notorious pirate is well-versed in the human body, both from sex and from his side-occupation as a surgeon. As much as she will deny it, as much as she might hate herself for it, Kyra is fast becoming addicted to skin-on-skin contact with Law - even when that contact brings pain. The much-loathed soul-bond is literally pushing her into his arms, as shown by how docilely she lies against his chest when she could probably pull out of his rather loose grasp. Every day she fights just a little less.

Law estimates that it won't be very much longer before Kyra is the one initiating contact, and when that happens... well. Let's just say he hopes it occurs sooner rather than later.

"I hate you," Kyra whispers into his pectoral muscles, her breath warm against his skin. "I hate you. I hate you."

He smiles to himself, rotating his hands so that he can bunch them in the ends of her hair and tilt her head back. He takes her mouth in a rough kiss, holding her still until she is struggling for air. Law is laughing when he pulls away, massaging the girl's scalp with nimble fingers. He brushes his lips over her closed eyelids, lets his tongue taste the sweat at her temples, inhales the lavender-steel-woman smell he has come to crave.

"You say that so often," he murmurs, tightening his hold until Kyra lets out a pained gasp before rubbing the hurt away. "I think perhaps you protest just a little too much. Like reverse psychology on yourself: maybe if you say that you hate me enough times, you might even begin to believe it. A novel idea."

The pirate hears his magician's teeth snap together and laughs again, moving back a little so that he can leer at her.

"Go ahead," Law purrs tauntingly, intentionally cocking his head at such an angle that his throat is bared to her. "Bite me. You want to, don't you Kyra? Then go ahead: do it."

He waits for a moment, but as he expected, his magician has locked her jaws probably to the point of pain and has her eyes screwed shut. She has only bitten him once, that first night back on the sub after Law sedated her and they were in the dreamscape. He had reached down to touch her face and ended up with her teeth buried in his hand. Kyra had frozen the second she broke his skin, unmoving with the taste of his blood in her mouth until the surgeon had pulled his hand free. The look on her face had been one of mingled shock... and extreme pleasure. Law had known immediately that his blood must be just as tasty to the girl as hers is to him. Another side effect of this bond they share.

Sometimes he will give himself a shallow cut within the dreams, just to tempt her with it. She has yet to take the bait, but Law is confident that it is only a matter of time.

For the moment, the sadistic Supernova opts to simply lay his head against Kyra's collarbone with a sigh, enjoying the shiver that goes through her at the feel of his breath against her skin. So responsive. So stubborn. So... his tongue darts out for a taste... addictive. To distract himself from the ever-present drug in his arms, Law starts to talk again.

"Gable informed me that we should reach the next island within a week. I am considering the possibility of taking your little pet onshore with us. I'm curious to see if he will be so quick to run into your arms after watching you slaughter whoever we happen to meet. What do you think?"

Kyra shrinks weakly against his hold, pressing cold little hands against his chest as her head shakes frantically from side to side.

"He's just a kid," she whispers, eyes still shut tight. "Just a little boy. Don't you dare make him watch that. Kids shouldn't... see shit like that."

Law hums thoughtfully, sliding his chin up and down the length of her throat. "I am a pirate, Kyra, not a nursemaid."

"Then let me take him back! Five fucking seconds and I'll be right back here again! You've got my fucking heart locked up on the damn sub, Law, do you really think I'm going to go anywhere without it?" She is coming out of her shell again, adamant in her desperation for the boy's safety. As if they haven't had this conversation a hundred times already. As if her captain is foolhardy enough to risk taking her at her word.

"Where the hell would I go anyway, you paranoid bastard? Do you think I'll stay on Veneficus if I take Aaron back? Are you fucking stupid? The only reason I went back in the first place was for my mother, and - and obviously t-that's not a problem anymore." Her voice is quivering by the end, her chest heaving slightly for a moment before she slips her iron control back into place and goes quiet again. Law is grinning, pleased with her reaction. He is working on pushing her to cry. He believes that if she finally loses that control of hers and weeps, it will be the start of a period during which he can mold her. She needs to let go of her dead mother. He will drive her to that conclusion in whatever way possible, even keeping a kid as a virtual hostage on his sub.

Hey, like he said: he's a pirate. Such a heartless course of action is second nature to him, especially when the boy's well-being personally means less than nothing.

The cruel seafarer slides his hands down Kyra's sides, lingering over the sensitive points right under her rib cage on both sides. She trembles against him, her breath whooshing out to warm his skin as Law rubs his thumbs into those spots that force her to react. He watches as she yanks her own hands away from him, fisting them in the bed-sheets in a hopeless attempt to keep from reaching out to the Heart Pirate captain.

"Why do you keep doing this?" his stubborn magician hisses, trying desperately to hold her body still when it's clear all she wants to do is press closer. "Why do you play with me in these fucking dreams? I'm not a goddamn toy, you bastard! Fuck, you almost got yourself killed yesterday during that fight with those idiots because you're too busy gawking at me during the day to fucking pay attention! Maybe I should have tried harder just to let their captain chop your damn head off."

This is true: since Kyra's return to his sub, Law has found himself rather distracted by her at the worst of times. If not for the interference of her magic, the Surgeon of Death might have found himself dead on several occasions these past couple of weeks. To be fair, he has an inkling that this soul-bond and Kyra's continued refusal to give in to it has more than a little to do with his moments of dangerous preoccupation. The weakling yesterday should never have gotten close enough to almost take his head off, but there's just something... hypnotic about watching his magician tear their enemies to pieces with her bare hands.

And it's somewhat adorable that Kyra is lecturing him on being more careful while trying to convince them both of how much she despises him. Especially since Bepo privately told Law right after the fight ended that she smelled absolutely terrified when she had turned and seen that rival pirate seconds away from killing him. She has yet to realize that she isn't fooling anyone with her little rebellion. The whole crew is aware of the situation, having been told by their captain but given strict orders not to say anything about it to their resident witch. Bepo can both smell and sense just how much she wants Law at every second of every day - which, now that Law thinks about it, might have something to do with why the overgrown fuzzball is avoiding Kyra as much as possible.

The Surgeon of Death brushes these thoughts aside and refocuses on the here and now, alone in his mind with his delectable magician in his arms. He will worry about his obsession when they wake up; for now he wants to indulge. He leans into her, pressing her back down into the mattress and swallowing her protests in a searing kiss. His Kyra tastes so damn sweet. Law could spend all day sampling her flavor, thoroughly enjoying the way she fights him at every opportunity. Though the Demon Witch's pigheadedness is sometimes extremely frustrating, Law is quite sure he wouldn't be half so interested in her if she threw herself at him the way other women do. The fight is half the fun.

And the best part is: Kyra can't bite him to make the kisses stop, because she's terrified of her reaction to the flavor of his blood.

"Shhh," he whispers against her cheek after Kyra tears her head to the side and separates their lips. "Just relax..."

"Stop fucking molesting me and I might be able to!" she snaps in retort, sounding close to tears again. "Why can't you just leave me alone for one damn night? Go find a whore or something and stop pawing at me!"

Law actually pauses at that, a frown tugging at his lips. "Why would I bother paying for a whore when you are here?"

Kyra seems to wilt, going limp against the sheets and closing her eyes again. The pirate studies her face for a long moment, an idea niggling at the back of his mind. Eventually he shifts off of her to lie on the bed, gathering his magician close so that her back is pressed into his chest and he has easy access to her hair. She is predictably tense in his arms, trembling with the effort not to relax. Law smiles to himself at the sheer force of will wrapped up in such a frail frame.

He wonders what her reaction is going to be when he takes her advice.

He's sure it will be entertaining.

A week later finds Kyra sitting stoically at the table in Law's galley, surrounded by crewmates with her unwanted captain nowhere in sight. Today has been hell for all of them. The island they've docked at is like something out of a horror story. The place is simply one giant volcano, with a single village built at its base. The explosive mountain is even now shooting flaming blobs of magma into the air, with lava flowing freely down its sides. Remarkably, the little village is like a negatively charged magnet in regards to the fiery liquid; the flow of molten rock comes within a mile of the collection of homes and shops before suddenly splitting, making a narrow V the rest of the way to the ocean. The navigator had a hell of a time earlier trying to figure out where to dock. The waters around the island are hot enough to bubble, making the air within the metal submersible like the inside of a sauna. Everyone is dripping with sweat, Bepo having stripped from his jumpsuit for fear of a heat stroke.

Kyra had briefly considered throwing up a shield around the sub to get rid of the unbearable heat, but Law had told her before he left not to do so. She will have to suffer with the rest of the crew until the captain returns. It is late in the evening, and the boy - Aaron - has already been put to bed by his canine nursemaid. No one else feels comfortable enough to sleep in this heat. The whole crew is crowded into the galley, sitting around drinking and talking while they wait for Law to get back so Kyra can provide them all with some relief.

Someone pokes her sharply in the side. Turning her head, the sweaty sorceress pins the brute of a cook in place with a blood-chilling glare. "Don't touch me."

Neil has the sense to look afraid for a second before his customary sneer returns. He leans close to her, putting his face near her own so that she can smell his body odor. She can feel the tension in the room suddenly shoot through the roof as the rest of the crew sees what their chef is doing. Apparently they have yet to forget the spectacle of watching Kyra drive a fork through the man's chest right before she beat the shit out of him. The cook in question, sadly enough, seems to have recovered from his previous fear of the woman whose personal bubble he is now thoroughly invading.

"So how jealous are you, witch?" Neil leers, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Kyra, having no idea what he is referring to, raises an eyebrow in response. The nasty smirk grows.

"Haven't you figured it out yet? Where do you think Captain's going, you dumb bitch? Did you really think he'd put up with all your teasing forever? Nah, Captain's decided to remedy that little situation." Here the pirate chef chuckles, giving Kyra a lingering once-over that has her magic jumping to peel his skin from his bones. "Guess Captain finally got sick of you, freak."

She twitches at that last word. Freak. She's a freak. Didn't this bozo call her that right after he felt her up before? Everybody resorts to that title eventually. Kyra wouldn't be surprised if Law is no different.

But that doesn't do anything to explain what the hell Neil is blabbering on about.

"Wanna find out what it feels like to get castrated with your pants on?" she asks her tormentor in a low voice. There is a collective shudder from the crew as Neil draws back sharply, eyeing her with the previously absent wariness. "Then get to the point of your little speech, or shut the fuck up and get out of my face."

Someone makes a disappointed tsking noise from the doorway leading towards the hatch. "Making threats to my crew, Kyra? I've only been gone for a few hours."

Kyra turns her attention to the newly arrived Law, fully prepared to let him know exactly how little she gives a shit. The sight that greets her, however, has the mage's mouth snapping shut again in an instant. Law is not alone, and he has just answered Kyra's question as to what Neil had been getting at with his taunting. Hanging off of one arm, wearing a dress so revealing she might as well be nude, is a woman. With very large breasts. Who is gazing at Trafalgar Law with some serious bedroom eyes as she presses her prodigious mammaries into his side, rubbing herself against him in a classic 'I-want-you-to-fuck-me' manner.

The Surgeon of Death, meanwhile, is staring directly at Kyra.

Who suddenly finds it very difficult to breathe.

"If you could put up a shield to lessen the heat for us, Kyra, you'll be spending the night in your old room," Law tells her as he escorts the strange woman across the galley. Her magic instantly responds to the captain's orders, pushing out of her skin and expanding through the walls of the sub. The inside temperature immediately drops to a much more comfortable level; the whole crew lets out a collective sigh of relief. Bepo gives a happy cheer and shakes himself, flinging saliva everywhere to general disgust.

Kyra barely registers any of this, however. She's preoccupied by the way her magic is trying desperately to wrench itself free of her control so that it can tear Law's whore to pieces. That irritating little voice is back, whimpering in the corners of her mind as she wrestles with her own powers.

Interloper. Bitch. Whore. Kill her!

Kyra is not going to kill the whore.

He is ours! Ours! She will take him from us.

Why is that a bad thing? Law gets laid, and Kyra gets a night of uninterrupted sleep. It's a win-win situation. Hell, she's pretty sure she told the man a week or so ago that it'd be great if he would just get a whore and leave her alone. This is just Law following her advice. This is good.

He is ours! He has your heart! Only he! He is our match, and we are his. Go to him. Touch him. Go before the whore steals him away.

"Um, Kyra?"

The sorceress jerks her head up with a jolt, realizing as she does so that she has been staring at the tabletop for an unspecified amount of time. The crew has shifted, with everyone except Sachi and Penguin trying to get as far from her as possible without actually leaving the room. The two friends are standing just on the other side of the table, looking extremely uneasy. Bepo is nowhere to be seen, and Law has apparently left with his bitch.

"Are... are you okay?" Sachi asks hesitantly. Kyra stares at him, hardly processing his words.

"Fine."

"Okay... well... um, you're kind of -" Sachi gestures to her face. Kyra brushes a hand across her cheeks and pulls it away to find that her fingers are wet. She is crying.

She needs some air.

Wrapping her magic around herself, Kyra teleports to the deck and collapses in a heap. She curls up in the tightest possible ball and buries her face in her thighs, shaking as the tears begin wetting the fabric. She doesn't even know why the hell she's crying. Shouldn't she be happy? Law has apparently lost interest in her. This is a good thing. If he gets tired of her, then Kyra will eventually be able to convince him to give her damn heart back. Once that happens, surely Law won't give a shit where she goes; she'll be free to kill off the shaman and his bitch-daughter. She can go after Merrick and see how he likes it when she peels his face off. Maybe if the sorceress is really lucky, she can dig up some way to completely sever this damn soul-bond.

But first she needs to figure out why seeing Law with another woman on his arm has her guts tied up in knots.

Gods, Kyra's life is such a clusterfuck.

She wants her mother. She wants to put her face in Naomi's lap and just bawl until there are no tears left. She needs to feel her mother's fingers stroking through her hair, scratching at her scalp to calm her. She needs Mama's voice telling her that everything is going to be alright, that she isn't alone, that she isn't an unlovable freak of nature destined to forever be isolated until someone wants to use her.

The shaman wants to use her.

Merrick wants to use her.

Law wants to use her and have sex with her whenever he feels like it.

Kyra's luck sucks.

Sometime later, when her tears are spent and the agony inside her chest has abated a little, the Demon Witch lies sprawled across the deck of the Heart Pirates submarine and stares at the sky. The volcano and its accompanying cloud of sulfuric ash are obscuring the stars, so Kyra is left to watch as her protective shield is covered on top with a thick layer of grey. Her magic is flittering around her, tendrils reaching out to stroke her face and arms like a parent trying to comfort a depressed child.

She doesn't move when the hatch opens somewhere behind her.

"Has my magician become spoiled? Can't sleep without me, perhaps?"

She closes her eyes and bites her lip so hard she tastes blood. The little fingers of black energy disperse into the air and vanish. The deck beneath her vibrates slightly to the beat of his footsteps as he crosses over to her and sits, immediately burying fingers in her disheveled curls. Kyra tries to ignore him, tries not to think about the way her hands have started shaking or how badly she needs to put those hands on his bare skin.

A calloused thumb swipes at the tear tracks on her cheek. Warm breath puffs against her forehead as lips press a short kiss over her left eyebrow. "Pining for me, Kyra? I'm flattered."

She can't do this anymore.

"Please don't touch me," Kyra all but whimpers, trying so hard not to press against his hand as it strokes up and down her cheek. "Please, it hurts."

The hand pauses, and she almost whimpers again. "What hurts? Where does it hurt?"

"Everything," she confesses. "Everywhere. Every time you're anywhere near me. It feels like I'm coming apart at the seams and I just can't do this anymore. Just... just kill me or stay the fuck away from me, please. You're tired of me, right? That's what the cook said. He's right, isn't he? So it shouldn't be hard for you to kill me. Here -"

The distraught woman tilts her head back, eyes still closed, baring her throat to the Surgeon of Death.

"You've always got a scalpel on you somewhere. Just slide it across my throat. I won't struggle, I won't try to -"

Her words are abruptly cut off by a hot mouth on hers, his strong tongue forcing its way in and sweeping around like a prodding finger. The last threads of her control snap like twigs, and Kyra kisses Trafalgar Law with all the passion of a thousand stars imploding. Her hands come up to clutch at his head, tearing the fur cap off and tossing it away so she can rake her nails through his messy black hair. She kisses him like a starving man falling on an endless feast, letting out an uninhibited whine when he pulls away. Her skin is burning, her insides are burning, and she needs him so bad -

"Shh," he murmurs, his body heavy on hers, his hands under her shirt and lips on her throat. Kyra never even registered that he was moving. He has come from his whore wearing only his long lounge pants, his upper body bare for her needy hands. She feels the smoothness of his skin, the way his muscles flex as he shifts against her. He is hot to the touch, burning just like Kyra burns.

"Please," she gasps out, digging her nails into his back as though she can pull him closer simply by that hold alone. "Please, please, I need - I -"

"I know," Law interrupts, nipping at her lips again, his hands busy and those grey eyes shining in the dark.

"I know."

She doesn't remember Law picking her up to carry her back to his room. She doesn't remember his curt dismissal of the woman he brought to the sub earlier. Much of the remainder of the night is a blur to her for a long time after. Her shirt will never be worn again, torn in half for a quick removal by strong hands dotted with tattoos. There is a vague impression of her teeth in Law's arm, his blood trickling down her chin as he groans under her. She knows he tasted her at some point. She knows that she couldn't not be touching him for more than a few seconds at a time for the duration of the night.

But it doesn't matter.

For once, the details really aren't important.

Law kicks the door shut behind the dismissed whore, his magician still cradled in his arms. She clings to him, shivering like an addict in desperate need of her next fix. The Supernova crosses to the bed and deposits his cargo, stepping away only long enough to kill the lights and shed his pants before climbing up next to her. Kyra immediately moves to press herself against him, sweaty little hands grasping at his shoulders.

She looks quite beautiful in her frantic need for him, lit by the continuous rain of magma visible through the round windows along the far wall. He claims her mouth in a bruising kiss, biting her already split lip and laving at it so that her blood trickles onto his tongue. Kyra lets out a sexy little moan, jerking her head away and giving him perfect access to the slender expanse of her neck.

"Please," she gasps breathlessly as he rolls her onto her back, straddling her hips and attacking that pale throat with teeth and tongue. Blunt nails dig into his shoulders, sending little pings of pleasure down the Dark Doctor's spine. "Please-please-please-"

Kyra is literally begging him for sex. Law takes a moment to enjoy the experience, making a mental note to tease her mercilessly for it later. For now, however, his magician is wearing too much clothing. His hands smooth down her flat belly to bunch in the fabric of her shirt. The surgeon deliberates attempting to pull the unnecessary garment over Kyra's head. Upon further deliberation he simply fists both hands and tears the shirt from hem to collar, easily sliding it from the girl's trembling frame. Once this is accomplished, questing fingers find their way under the waistband of her loose pants and begin to tug them firmly down restless legs. Undergarments are likewise discarded, until Law settles himself comfortably between her shaking thighs. He can feel his magician's pulse racing where her femoral artery presses against his hip. She is whimpering helplessly beneath him, and Law's blood is boiling from the sound.

He slides a hand under Kyra's head, fisting it in her hair and holding her still while he swoops down to plunder the sweetness of her mouth. It is immensely pleasing when she kisses him back, wrapping her tongue around his and sucking like a child with a lollipop. Law growls his approval as he brings his free hand up and lets the tips of his fingers dance teasingly against the side of her breast. Kyra jerks away from the touch, obviously startled if the widening of her blue eyes is anything to go by.

Law follows through, giving her hair a warning yank as he reclaims her mouth and lays those tickling fingers flush against the small globe of flesh. It's just as scarred as the rest of her, and the pirate explores the texture of her sensitive skin with the roughness of his palm. This earns him a squeal the likes of which he never thought to hear from the Demon Witch, another little thing to file away for blackmail later. He relinquishes his monopoly of her mouth, trailing his tongue languidly down to her throat. Kyra's pulse throbs here as well, her jugular jumping under his lips as he worries the skin over it with his teeth. After a moment the Heart Pirate captain moves to the side of that slender column and sinks his teeth into his magician, biting down hard and letting out a groan of his own as her addictive blood floods his taste buds.

"Law," Kyra is gasping, her skull pressing hard against his hand as she arches into him. "Shit it burns, everything's burning make it stop -"

Law pauses in his ministrations, his hand going still over her breast while his mouth withdraws from the temptation of her bleeding neck. That last part sounded suspiciously like an order, and Trafalgar Law does not take orders from anyone under any circumstances. It doesn't matter that he can't quite make himself pull completely away from the girl. It makes no difference that his left hand refuses to release its hold on her sweat-soaked hair. He will show his woman exactly who is in control here, and introduce her to the consequences of trying to rearrange the position of leadership.

Kyra apparently realizes her mistake once the majority of their bodies have separated, as she falls still except for the continued shaking. She looks up at Law with glazed eyes, covering in sweat, her lips red and swollen from his assault and fresh blood trickling down her neck to stain his sheets.

"You seem to have let the moment run away with you, my magician," Law purrs, sliding one down through her curls until it touches the rough brand burned into her lower back. He digs his fingers into her skin hard, dragging a yelp from the girl just before his free hand clamps around her throat and squeezes threateningly. He smiles then, pulse thrumming in his ears, so hard with his lust for her it is painful.

"You do not have the authority to give me orders. If you would like to make a request, you had better be careful how you word it. This -" - he scraps his nails through the brand, feels her skin peel off and hears her pained whine - "- means nothing. Merrick does not own you, Kyra: I do. And I think I can come up with much more torturous punishments for you than a simple brand."

Law stares down at her, half-expecting a fight, waiting to see if she will try to get away from him now. Will his words have shattered the lust-induced haze that has brought her willingly to his bed? It doesn't matter, really - she is more insane than he is if Kyra really thinks she will be leaving his arms anytime soon.

His musings are unfounded. A trembling hand reaches for him, finds his chest and presses over his heart.

"I'm sorry."

The Surgeon of Death smirks wickedly.

"Please... don't stop. I... I need you."

Kyra's really going to hate herself in the morning.

Releasing her throat so that he can grasp both hips in his strong hands, Law melds himself to his magician and takes a long taste of the mouth which has just said those words, the ones he has been waiting to hear for too long. He pulls away and lowers his face to Kyra's heaving chest, blowing hot breath against sensitized skin and chuckling at the sounds coming out of her. His tongue darts out for a taste before his teeth bite down and pull gently. He does not break the skin, and a moment later he is moving on, skating his lips ever lower, following the line of her stomach as she squirms and grabs at his head. Those dangerous hands of hers clutch his hair, trying futilely to stop him as he smooths his palms down and around and presses her quivering thighs further apart.

"Wait wait what are you doing?" she gasps out, sounding frantic and frightened and sexy as hell. "Don't Law wait please -"

He did tell her that she is free to make requests.

He never said anything about actually listening.

The power to form words is soon beyond Kyra's capability, and when Law has tasted his fill and moved up to her mouth again she lies underneath him like a puddle of jello. He smirks again in satisfaction against her lips, toying with an idea in his head before he leans away and to the side, stuffing his hand beneath the mattress. His fingers grasp cool metal, and the surgeon withdraws the scalpel he keeps hidden in his bed before sitting up. Exhausted blue orbs drift from the deadly tool to the captain's grinning face, a question in their depths that Law has every intention of answering. He quickly flips them so that he lies upon the pillows while Kyra scrambles to brace herself above him, surprised by the sudden change in positions. She opens her mouth to say something, only to snap it shut again when Law cuts a deep gash in his own arm before tossing the scalpel aside and reaching up to grab a handful of black curls.

"Your turn for a taste," the deranged doctor murmurs as he uses his hold on her to pull Kyra down, placing his bleeding arm against her lips. Her eyes widen and she jerks against his restraining hand in a futile attempt to pull back. He is relentless, keeping her firmly where she is and pressing her mouth to his arm until she reluctantly parts her lips. And then Law is gone, from the bed, from the room, from the sub - everything disappears except for the extreme waves of pleasure that wash through his being as his magician sucks the blood from his self-inflicted wound, swirling her tongue inside to get more and growling like an animal. Magic floats around them, wafting out of her skin in waves, stroking the groaning pirate and raising his pleasure to impossible heights.

Law is no virgin by any means. He has had countless women. He has spent hours availing himself of the pleasures of the flesh.

But never before has he felt so close to drowning in it.

When it becomes too much, when he feels as though his insides will burst from the overload of sensation and he literally throbs with his need, Trafalgar Law takes his magician to the mattress once again and relieves his agony.

His last coherent thought is to wonder if this is what it feels like for a star when it goes supernova.

A/N: Please review.