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It's so hot.
That’s the only thought in Rosinante’s head right now. He knows he was supposed to be patrolling around the supply depot, keeping… something safe, but true conscious thought is eluding him. He remembers a fight—stumbling, glass shattering, a sharp slice into the meat of his forearm as he'd used it to break his fall, a high shout from—who? Right. The guy he's on top of right now.
Fuck, he's pretty. And small. From behind, sitting on his back, Rosinante can tell that. Everyone's small compared to Rosinante, but not everyone is pretty. Especially not like this guy, who's pretty and cute and smells so good and—he must know that, right?
Just in case, Rosinante tells him, grabbing him by the chin and arching his head backwards to look him in the eyes.
“You're so fucking pretty,” he rasps, voice hoarse. He’s sweating. He’s so hot. He can’t remember why, but god, he’s burning up. Why the hell do Navy uniforms have so many layers?
“Fuck you!”, the pretty man shouts. He must be a thief. What else could he be if he's in a Marine warehouse, but not a Marine? The probably-a-thief strains under Rosinante, back arched like a full sail. Rosinante shucks his coat (it's so hot!), then he suddenly remembers that his dick is hard, and that he's rocking it against the guy's ass.
“Fuck? Yeah.” Rosinante grabs for his belt buckle. “Yeah, we can do that.”
“Wha–The fuck!”
Rosinante can feel the thief squirming underneath him, but squeezing the hand he's got around the guy's throat stops that pretty quickly. When the struggling slows, it's a whole lot easier for Rosinante to yank his pants down and rub and oh.
The cleft of his ass is heaven. Rosinante loses himself just rutting his dick between those plush cheeks, wet with his own precome, and tight, so tight. On one thrust, he feels the guy’s ass clench as he wheezes, and suddenly all he can think about is getting his dick inside.
“Hot…”
He shoves down on the man’s shoulder blades, forcing his chest down to the floor. With his head low, and his ass yanked up, the angle is perfect. Rosinante shoves in. There's no resistance; the world melts into smooth, soft heat wrapping around his dick, and god, it’s wet and getting wetter as Rosinante's dick leaks and drools.
“So good!”
He pants, red washing over his vision and heat burning through his veins. Lust bows his head until his nose brushes sweaty hair. The thief's hat got knocked off at some point. Rosinante doesn't know why he notices. Maybe it's because he's got dark hair. Short, scruffy, and black—it looks almost like Law's did. Grumpy little Law, so small, so cute, so precious. Rosinante had wanted to give him the world.
He’d lost him instead.
Just like that, all of the regrets that Rosinante had been trying to repress surge to the forefront of his brain. Memories of Law, his halting breaths, his trembling hands, his fever-bright eyes, his gorgeous smile… Gone, all gone, but Blues, would he have been this beautiful if he'd lived?
He'd be taller, so much taller, maybe even shoulder height on Rosi? Maybe not. He'd be perfect anyway, because he'd be fully grown and healthy—strong. His Law would have been so strong. Rosinante can see him in his mind's eye: fluffy hair, shining eyes, broad shoulders, and clear, unmarked skin. He'd be tugging at his sleeve and calling him Cora-san, just like he used to…
Rosinante's eyes start to burn, and his nose starts to clog, even while his hips continue to move, tangled up in passion that he can't stop his body from chasing. His memories, his emotions, his body— nothing is under control anymore. For all the despair rising inside of him, so too comes pleasure. Plush, slick muscle squeezes around his cock, and Rosinante comes with a wretched sob as tears slide down his face.
Law grunts, crawling out from the dead weight of the Marine with a grimace. This is not what he'd planned to have happen when he'd broken into a secure Navy storage facility. He'd been aiming to restock the Tang's dwindling medical supplies using a five finger discount. If he'd been aiming for rare goods, he might have used more caution, but he'd assumed that common pharmaceuticals would have a lighter guard.
He'd been wrong.
This must be a much higher level storage cache than he'd thought. That's obvious in hindsight. There's a distinctive scent in the air—Law recognizes it as that one of the Grand Line’s most powerful vasodilators, one that's far too expensive to be stored with the rubbing alcohol and sterile saline. It's unlikely that any active-duty sailor would be using it for its listed medical properties, but its off-label effects include potent aphrodisiac qualities.
The Celestials must keep it around for that reason.
The Marine who'd attacked him must have gotten a dose of it through the laceration on his forearm. Knowing that his attacker was under the influence doesn't make Law feel any less slimy—it's distasteful to have had a man push him down and fuck his thighs, no matter how conscious he'd been of what he'd been doing.
With that reminder of just what exactly is creating the wet mess between his legs, Law frowns and searches for something to wipe himself clean. The Marine's neckerchief should do. It looks like a personal item, big and bulky enough that it covers his face from his nose to his chin, and Law gets a thrill of vengeance when he yanks it free.
At least he looks a little like Cora, Law thinks, considering the man's blond hair. When he finishes wiping himself clean and looks closer at the man, though, he pauses. Because sure, there might be a lot of blonds on the seas, but blonds with that nose and that jawline are rarer, and if Law imagines him with a starburst under one eye and a painted grin…
There's no way, right?
But now that Law's got the idea in his head, he can't get rid of it. He has to know.
Grimly, he smacks the Marine's cheek to wake him up, cursing the fact that the guy had managed to get a cuff on Law before he'd gotten drugged, killing Law's access to his ROOM and its instant detox abilities.
Granted, if Law had been able to teleport away, he might have missed who this is.
Because, when Law smacks him and hisses, "Cora-san!", the man rouses and mumbles one damning syllable before he even manages to open his eyes: "Law?"
Rosinante comes to with a muzziness to his awareness. It feels like his head is wrapped with gauze, and his mouth stuffed with cotton. Whatever he got dosed with must have done a number on him, because he could have sworn he saw Law there for a moment, where surely there was only a thief who Rosi had… greatly wronged.
"Cora-san!"
Rosinante's eyes snap open as a tap on the cheek rouses him from his gloomy thoughts.
"Hng?!"
Rosinante remembers noticing the man's hair before, but now that he's sober, other details catch his eye. The set of his jaw, the slope of his nose and the metallic gleam of his eyes paint a picture straight from Rosinante's most beloved memories turned dreams: The man in front of him looks startlingly similar to Law, if he'd only been allowed to grow up.
Rosinante can't help but murmur, "Law?"
When he hears that name, it's not confusion that lights this not-so-stranger's face, but recognition.
"It's really you," says the man who cannot be anyone other than Trafalgar Law. He takes Rosinante by the chin and tilts his face up to examine it, and his voice is full of wonder when he says, "I never thought I'd see you again."
The explosion of joy in Rosinante's chest is immediately tainted by horrified shame. Law is alive. The kid had managed to grow up despite the pittance that Rosinante had left him with, and he'd struggled his way out of the North Blue successfully! But, on reuniting, before he'd even been able to introduce himself, Rosinante had—
Rosinante slams a hand over his mouth, trying to curb the nausea roiling in his stomach. He jerks out of Law's hold and stumbles to his feet. Or at least, he tries. Standing up makes the world sway. He rolls his ankle and immediately goes down again with a yelp.
"Cora-san!" Law shouts, shuffling forward on his knees to check Rosinante's condition. "You haven't changed a bit, have you? You're just as clumsy as ever!"
"Yeah, that's me," Rosinante stutters as Law cups his face again, turning it this way and that. "S-still the same old fuck up of a man." Law's grip is too strong to dislodge, so he brings one of his hands up to cover his eyes in a vain attempt to hide the fact that he's on the verge of tears. "I'm sorry…"
"Sorry?" Law asks, sounding utterly confused. Why? Why isn't he angry?
"Law, what I did to you—it was unforgivable!"
"What, just now?" Law's brows crumple into a dark frown. "Cora-san, you were drugged—"
"That doesn't change the fact that I hurt you!"
Law blinks. "I'm not hurt," he says, pulling his sleeves up to show Rosinante his wrists. "Do you see me bleeding? There aren't even any bruises."
Rosinante looks up at Law's face, so empty of the hatred and disgust that Rosinante deserves, and knows that Law is being oblique on purpose. He wants to give Rosinante an out, and allow him to pretend that he'd never sinned.
Rosinante can't do that.
Frustrated, he shouts, "Law, I-! I violated you!"
"Cora-san…"
It's only when Law's hand curls around his wrist that Rosinante realizes that he's trembling. Now that he's noticed, he can't make it stop. He whispers, "I ... Fuck…", clutching at himself as the weight of what he's done settles even heavier upon his shoulders.
"Law, I pushed you down and I raped you!" Rosinante chokes out. He scrubs at his face as tears burn in his eyes, overwrought with despair. "You should be trying to kill me, not checking me for injuries!"
"… Kill you?"
Law's grip goes slack in his shock, and Rosinante manages to pull free. He doesn't try to stand again, knowing he won't make it, but he turns away and scrubs his fingers through his hair to hide behind his bangs. "Fuck, I'm disgusting. The first time I see you again, I push you down and—I don't even know if death would make up for my actions."
"Cora-san…" Rosinante hears Law's voice, but doesn't register it until two hands clamp down on his shoulders, startling him into looking up. When he does, Law's expression is intense.
Ah, Rosinante thinks. That's what he's supposed to look like: furious.
Then, Law says, "Cora-san can't die."
One thing that Law knows for sure about Cora-san, one thing that he's sure hasn't changed even in the years since they last saw each other is this: once Cora-san makes up his mind about something, there's no changing it.
Law had spent months trying to convince the man to give up on him, but even starving and cold, with no real hope, Cora-san had insisted that they'd make it. He'd held a feverish Law in his arms and tearfully sworn that they would find a cure for Law's condition, no matter what.
He's got the same look in his eyes now that he had then.
When he recognizes that stubborn expression, Law realizes that Cora-san won't believe that he's done Law no wrong. Moreover, he won't accept Law's insistence that he needn't atone for his imagined crimes.
Them to let me bring the sweetest punishment to bear upon your shoulders.
"Cora-san can't die," Law says. "If you're going to take responsibility for your actions by offering me your life, give it to me properly." When Cora-san's brow crumples in confusion, Law squeezes his shoulders and says, "Join my crew."
"Wha-?" Cora-san asks, suddenly taken aback.
"Join my crew," Law repeats, after he's swallowed down the lump in his throat. "I spent years thinking that you died for me, and it didn't make me happy, not for even a moment. It wouldn't make me happy now, either. So, if you want to make it up to me, join my crew and fight for me. Care for me. Live for me."
Cora-san gapes like a fish for a few moments, mouth opening and closing in a fluster as he chokes on broken syllables. "I-! Well, you-! Its-!"
Eventually, though, under the force of Law's unwavering stare, the man wilts into a slump, and says, "Alright." He raises his hands to his shoulders and shrugs Law off. "This will be my justice." And then Cora-san drags his coat off the floor, and offers it to Law, still on his knees with his head bowed. "For what little I'm worth, I'll be yours until the end of my days."
Law finally allows a grin to stretch across his face as he takes the heavy garment out of Cora-san's hands. "Mine. I like that." Before Cora-san can stand, Law impulsively leans down and grabs him by the collar, so he can steal the kiss he's been yearning for this entire time.
"Mmph!"
Cora-san flails as Law lets him go and turns away, trusting Cora-san to follow him properly.
"'Til death do us part, Cora-san!"
"What?!"
"Didn't you say that you'd be mine for the rest of your life? Then take responsibility for stealing my virginity and marry me!"
"Eh?!" Cora-san sputters, "Marry?! Virginity?! W-what?!!"
Law can hear Cora-san scrambling to get up behind him, and he laughs as he digs through the pockets of Cora's old coat to find the keys to his cuff.
"Law!"
Silly, silly Cora-san. Did he think that Law was going to let him get away with being a regular crew member? No, Law's a pirate with a pirate's greed. If he can steal Cora-san away as his husband, there's no way he's letting that opportunity slip between his fingers.
"Cora-san," Law says, voice husky with joy. "Look at what I can do now."
Cora-san's hands comes down on Law's shoulder just as Law frees himself from the seastone. Whatever he was about to say is cut off when Law says, "ROOM."
"Ah!"
Blue flashes around them, the bubble bigger and brighter than Law's ever managed before.
Then, there's nothing left on the warehouse floor, but a smudge and a scattering of glass.