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Rum, Sodomy, and the Lash	By : Rhov Category: +M to R > One Piece Views: 5473 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: Eiichiri Oda-sensei is the captain and commander of "One Piece." I'm not even worthy of being his cabinboy because I make no money writing these fics.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
Chapter 5: The Day of the Injury
Present Day, a Pub in the New World
Zoro shook his head. Missing Hawk Eyes? Was he really insane? Those memories must be affecting his ability to reason logically. There was one sure cure for such problems.
"Hey, bartender! More sake," he demanded.
"Again?" the portly man exclaimed in astonishment.
"Don't 'again' me. You just keep it coming until I stumble out the door, got it?"
The bartender muttered, "I usually cut people off at this point."
Zoro grasped the hilt of one of his swords just hard enough for the man to hear it. "Do, and I'll cut you off."
The bartender paled. "Y-yes, sir!"
"Good to have a smart bartender," Zoro said wryly, relaxing his hand again as he saw the paunchy man grabbing a bottle of what was a very strong brand of sake. "Hey, let me try a chicken leg or something. I should probably test out the meat before my captain arrives."
He wondered when Luffy would show up. Not that Zoro was all that hungry, but having Luffy around suppressed these troublesome memories. When he was alone, especially when drinking, they came back to haunt him, rising from the depths of his mind like the ghosts that haunted around Perona.
Perona...God, he hated that woman! Yet after two years of living in the same house with her, her also came to respect her. At least, a little. Perhaps "tolerate" was a better word.
Two years! He had gone from a naïve teenager into a wiser adult during that brief time.
Despite himself, those memories brought smiles. During those two hellish months of bedroom training, Zoro had spent many nights sleeping beside Mihawk, often too weary to go to his own bed. As the days passed, he began to enjoy Mihawk's company. The smell of his expensive cologne was comforting. The warmth of his body gave a sense of protectiveness. Zoro felt happy and safe in the man's arms, despite their rivalry. There were times when he was pained by a sense of guilt, worried that he was betraying Luffy's feelings, but never once did Zoro question whether or not he would return to the Straw Hats at the end of the two years. After all, this was training to get strong enough to sail into the New World with his crew.
Although he never once forgot about Luffy, he began to take a liking to Mihawk. He was older, wiser, someone Zoro had admired since the first day he read about him. Zoro spent those two years studying how the swordsman moved, his gait, his carriage, how he reached for his goblet, what position he slept in. Due to their play and the delicate techniques used in the Delight of the Blade, he knew every inch of Mihawk's body, every scar, every mole. He even heard stories of how the swordmaster got some of those scars, battles he fought, enemies he defeated, wars Zoro had only read about in history. Mihawk had truly lived. He won some, he lost some, he clashed with Marines in his youth, pirates later on as a shichibukai. The more stories Zoro heard, the more he admired the man and wanted to follow in his footsteps.
No, not follow. Surpass!
Yet as he heard the tales this older man had to relate, Zoro sensed more and more that the distance between them truly was great. Simply learning techniques was not enough to be the best swordsman in the world. Zoro still needed experience. That would come later, when he rejoined Luffy and continued onward through Grand Line.
Training, then experience. That was the way to becoming the greatest.
At least Mihawk was true to his word. He was a pervert who forced Zoro into situations he did not like: cruel one minute, gentle the next; brutally abusing his body in the day, holding him closely throughout the night. Yet not once did he penetrate him. Mihawk always used toys or his own hands. During the second month, Zoro had questioned this. Mihawk simply explained that Zoro was another man's lover. He was not going to, as he put it, "cuckold the man who thinks he can be the Pirate King." It was surprisingly thoughtful and noble, yet also a little frustrating. Zoro despised the feeling of wanting to be taken by force. He thrust that thought out of his mind, blocking it just as he was learning to block his physical responses.
After the two months, Mihawk was satisfied with Zoro's level of focus, meditation, and control over physical and emotional stimuli. Finally, he allowed the young student to pick up his swords again. Zoro had rarely gone so long without a fight, and it took a while for his muscles to remember some of the subtleties. Mihawk took that opportunity to train him on fine points. He admitted, getting Zoro away from the swords for so long was part of his plan, so he could get those basic lessons in from the beginning rather than force them upon a stubborn teen who thought he knew everything.
Just because they were back to sword training did not mean the bedroom was off-limits. It was not every day anymore, yet there were occasions when fights disintegrated into kissing and groping. A few times, Mihawk stumbled upon Zoro out on the island, shirtless as he trained his muscles, and he could hardly help himself. The youth was enticing and stirred emotions the master swordsman did not often allow himself to feel.
Still, he kept true to one rule: no penile penetration.
That was...until the day of the injury.
The Day of the Injury, Kuraigana Island
Zoro woke up in his own bed and instantly felt pain. The earlier part of that day was a blur now. He only remembered the slice to his face, gushing pain through his eye, Perona's screams mixed with Mihawk's worried voice shouting for him. He eventually fell asleep, although he could not recall when. Had he passed out?
He felt bandages, smelled medications, felt a stinging sensation and tightness of stitches, and heard a low chant in the background. One eye was bandaged, but he opened his other one. He recognized the green hue his bedroom curtains gave to the stormy light outside. Against one wall, Zoro had set up a shrine to meditate. It was not meant for religious prayers or supplications—Zoro did not believe in a god—but the shrine was dedicated to a memory, a certain girl who set him on his path. Wado Ichimonji sat in a prominent spot, with Shusui and Sandai Kitetsu standing upright on the sides like two sentinels overlooking a pure white bride.
Mihawk knelt by the shrine with his crucifix in his hand. "I feel you by his side," Zoro overheard the shichibukai saying in a low, solemn mutter. It seemed he was in the middle of his prayer, so Zoro kept respectfully silent. "I feel your presence every time I cross swords with him. Whatever you may be, your spirit is strong. Rarely have I felt a sword love its owner, yet I feel that with you. Angel or demon or spirit unknown: guard him once more, and...and forgive me for allowing such an injury to befall your master." Mihawk dropped his head until it leaned against the top of the crucifix. "Forgive me," he whispered.
"God won't forgive you," Zoro said, yanking Mihawk out of his prayer. "Even if he did, I don't think I'd let it go that easily. I once met a guy who said he was God. I've met angels too. They probably don't give a shit if I get hurt."
Mihawk strung the crucifix back around his neck. "Perhaps, but these swords care. I feel them even now," he said, looking at the trio. "They are worried if you'll be able to fight with only one eye. They tremble at the thought of losing you as a master. These swords...admire you." His hand caressed Wado Ichimonji. "Especially this one. The spirit in this sword is powerful. It holds no malice like I feel with the others: one brutal, one cursed. This sword..." For a moment, he lost himself in reverie at the spirit he felt so clearly. "Swords can be like lovers or like children. Some we raise and train to obey us. Others come to us filled with passion to serve us and make us happy."
He turned his eyes off the swords and back to Zoro lying on the bed. Deep emotions stirred in the shichibukai's heart, and despite his attempts to suppress it, Zoro saw those feelings in Mihawk's face.
"Sometimes, a sword comes into our hands," the shichibukai said gently, staring with a piercing golden gaze at the shirtless, enticing youth lying amidst disturbed satin sheets. "We train them hard to obey our every command. Through such harsh domination, that sword comes to love the wielder. As swordsmen, we all realize that our blade may betray us one day, but when there is that union of desire—when the blade is one with our body, an extension of our very soul—those moments are more fulfilling than the pleasures of some random man or woman. We know the blade may be taken away and strike against us, but...we still love that blade," he said quietly. "We hope its new master will treat it well, grow stronger because of it, become one with the blade...honor it, use it to its fullest potential, cherish what a finely-wrought thing it is. We...I..."
Mihawk turned his face away and suddenly strode to the window to look out at the moonlight. The pain in his chest troubled the master swordsman. Of all the pains he had known in his life, this sort was the hardest to ignore. It could gnaw at him without end. It could cloud his thoughts and slow his actions. This was a danger to which even the shichibukai could fall prey.
Zoro stared in surprise. Mihawk never spoke like that. The tenderness in his voice made the young man tremble. Slowly, he sat up. He felt lightheaded from blood loss, but he still rose to his feet.
Mihawk heard the bare toes approaching and looked over in shock. "What do you think you're doing, Roronoa! You shouldn't even sit up, let alone be out of bed. Are you truly that eager to die?"
Zoro had a grim face as he came over with plodding, slightly unsteady steps. Over the past few months, Mihawk often saw that demon's glare, a flame of determination no one could extinguish, not without snuffing out Zoro's very life. Few men looked at Mihawk this way. Each time the young man did, it thrilled him. It reminded him that, if any man in this world was going to succeed him, he wanted this green-haired enigma to be the one.
Finally Zoro stood in front of Mihawk and stared firmly into his golden eyes. "You're right," he said lowly. "You are my goal, Dracule Mihawk. I'm training to one day turn on you, betray you, hopefully defeat you. That day may happen at the end of these two years, or it may happen two decades from now. One day our swords will cross, and we'll see once and for all who is stronger. I honestly don't know why you'd train the man who wants to defeat you, but...I'm thankful," he said humbly.
Zoro bowed his head and leaned it against the master's chest. Mihawk felt he was also using this to ease his weakness, leaning on his teacher, showing that he as a student still needed support. Mihawk felt touched by the trust Zoro was showing, and he wrapped an arm gently around the young man's muscular shoulders.
"I'm thankful for the opportunity to study under the man I admire most," Zoro went on. "I'm thankful for the chance to get to know you so personally. Until our training is done, I am your blade. Yet we've never once had that union you spoke of." He raised his head to stare into those golden eyes, and the forbidden desire he had often felt yet never acted upon now shined clearly in his remaining eye. "Never once have I been an extension of your body."
Mihawk's brow tightened and he gazed silently at the youth's anguished face.
"Maybe it's the pain killers talking," Zoro sighed, feeling a wave of dizziness but fighting it with the training Mihawk had instilled to ignore physical sensations. He forced himself to keep looking straight into the shichibukai's golden eyes. "I want to feel what it's like to be your blade, Mihawk. I want to feel...us being one."
Mihawk's mouth tweaked into a tiny smirk. "I told you on our first day of training, whether or not we have sex will be decided by you. I will not forcefully steal a blade from another man, but if the owner requests I use his blade for some purpose, I will treat that blade with utmost care until I can return it. If that blade submits into my hands willingly, I will use it with honor. That is my pride as a swordsman."
Zoro gazed at him with his good eye and said with determination, "This blade submits to you."
That night, Mihawk was the most gentle Zoro had ever experienced. He knew it likely had more to do with the injury and fearing that too much strenuous activity would reopen the wound. Still a part of him imagined that this was similar to how a man treated a virgin. It made Zoro a little nervous but even more eager.
It was his first time being entered like this. Not even with Luffy had he been on bottom. However, he knew that in the presence of such a man, he as a student had no right to be on top. He had to earn that spot. As they kissed one another and groped muscular flesh, Zoro often looked up at the moon's argent reflection in Mihawk's predatory golden eyes, seeking reassurance and always finding it.
When Mihawk kissed him, it was tender and filled with passion. His facial hair tickled Zoro's lips until he wanted to moan. Mihawk's hands were everywhere. He was like an adventurer forging through an untamed forest, although he and Zoro had been in this situation numerous times already. Mihawk realized he had to win the trust of this 'problem child' blade.
Zoro felt Mihawk rub two fingers over his lips. He looked up at that piercing gaze again. Zoro knew what those fingers meant, and a slight flutter of uncertainly buzzed through his stomach again. Mihawk's eyes shined as if to silently say, "Trust me." Zoro did, and he opened his mouth.
The fingers slid in, and Zoro closed his eyes as he enjoyed the rough feel of calused skin. He hungrily licked at them, rubbing his tongue and his lips all around the fingers until they dripped with saliva. While he did that, Mihawk took a small bottle of lube and put a few drops onto Zoro's entrance. Then the older man reached between their bodies and carefully rubbed around that taut pucker of muscles. Zoro moaned at the teasing touches. Slowly, watching his partner's face for the slightest pain, the master swordsman slid one finger inside.
Zoro was used to this much. He had come to enjoy Mihawk's thrusting fingers. Even as a second finger pressed in, he groaned heavily, bucking his hips up into his hand, relaxing and letting himself be opened. Up to this point, this was all Mihawk had allowed, but this time...
"Is it okay if I slip it in?" the swordmaster asked, already drizzling the bottle of lube onto his arousal as if the question was merely a formality.
Zoro looked up to him, panting hard already and beginning to sweat. His injured eye burned, but his desire was stronger. "Yeah, it's okay. I...I want you in me."
He felt ashamed for saying it like some cheap slut, but that feeling was thrust away when Mihawk began to press at his entrance. Zoro shouted in shock at his size. It was nothing at all like those two thin fingers, nor like the anal beads they had used up to that time. It filled him and made him cry out from a pain edged with ecstasy. And this was only his tip!
"No good," Mihawk muttered, and he suddenly withdrew.
"What the fuck?" Zoro shouted. "Bastard, you break into me and then suddenly say you're going to stop?"
Mihawk lay on top of him and smothered Zoro with his body. He was warm, sweaty, and breathing heavily. "You're injured and still bleeding. If I did this..."
Zoro's eye went wide with shock as he realized the master swordsman was trembling. "Wha-...?" His brain could not even comprehend what this meant. Was Mihawk...scared? Was that even possible? No! No, it couldn't be! This must be a delusion, a result of blood loss, or maybe delayed shock.
"Forgive me, Roronoa," he whispered.
The bewildered marimo had a thoroughly confused expression tweaking his eyebrows.
"I thought I had enough control so I could make love to you while still being gentle, but I don't think that's possible," Mihawk confessed in shame. "If I start up now, I won't be able to hold back. I'll hurt you more, and right now," he said, caressing the skin around the bandage that marred Zoro's face, "right now...the last thing I can do is hurt you. I feel too guilty already."
"Mihawk," Zoro whispered in surprise, yet he had no clue what he could say in reply.
"Please forgive me if this is a disappointment, but I can't do that to you. You're...too special to me," he admitted, and he hugged Zoro closer. "Just for tonight and until you heal, let me be the one to receive. At least that way I won't hurt you as badly."
The thought of entering Mihawk, of piercing into him in a way his blades had not the skill to do, was intensely arousing to Zoro. He was shocked that such a man would submit like this, and the tenderness in his words touched Zoro's heart deeply. Still, he felt he had to put up a front to this man. He could not allow Mihawk to see his true emotions.
"Bastard," Zoro grumbled. "When I'm better, you better fuck me hard."
Mihawk chuckled mirthfully as he reached for more lube. "If that is what my special pupil needs, then I shall certainly provide it!"
The shichibukai drizzled thick lube onto Zoro shaft, then positioned himself to sit on top. He reached between them, holding that thick cock still, and slowly aligned himself.
"Hey," Zoro muttered, watching all this with a dry throat. "Don't you need prepped?"
Mihawk's determined expression was unmoved. "I deserve the pain for allowing you to get injured today."
Then suddenly Zoro felt himself entering something tight...very tight! And warm. He moaned, but the blood pressure building up caused white pain to shoot through his mauled eye. He had to relax himself. This was when Mihawk's training truly came in handy.
"Good," the swordmaster praised, seeing his student at work as he gritted through the pain of relaxing his own muscles. "Stay in control. Keep focused despite instinctive reflexes. Allow yourself to feel the pleasure, but don't let it consume you." Finally he settled fully onto Zoro's cock. "Impressive, I must say," he said in admiration. The slight blush on Zoro's cheeks at the compliment to his manhood was almost adorable and nearly made the swordmaster crack a smile. "How about a little wager? Whoever comes first polishes the other's swords for a week."
Zoro scoffed out a laugh at that. "Against you, that's not really fair."
"Do you lack that much confidence, Roronoa?"
"No, I'm that fucking horny."
Mihawk actually chuckled. "Well then, this should be a challenge for me as well: to keep my student from firing before I give the order."
Zoro hissed at the idea of Mihawk taking such control despite being the one taken. However, as the older man moved on top, thrusting down, then sliding up, working his way deeper, slowly loosening up, Zoro realized that if someone else did not take the reins, he would have lost all control in mere minutes.
For the first time, but definitely not the last, Zoro hated that he could only see out of one eye. He watched Mihawk riding on top of him, those golden eyes gleaming in the low light of candles with the occasional flash of lightning from a storm outside. Zoro wished he could watch this glorious sight fully. Instead, other senses became more sensitive, already trying to compensate. He smelled the muskiness of sweat and dripping precum from his master. He listened to the schlop-schlop of his cock moving in and out of the shichibukai's body. He felt every touch as Mihawk ran his hands up along the massive scar, then parted to the sides to tweak Zoro's nipples, rolling them, teasing him just enough to get a guttural moan.
"Use my sword, Roronoa," Mihawk ordered.
Zoro complied, held his teacher's cock, and massaged it with a firm yet gentle grip, finding the right tension, the right angle, watching that hawk-like face for cues. The shichibukai did not hide it from him this time. As he felt the fluid motion of Zoro's fingers stroking him, those golden eyes tensed and his teeth gritted.
Zoro had a conceded smile. "You look like you really enjoy being the receiver, like this is normal to you," he observed, and the flash in those searching eyes told the young swordsman that he was right. "Another lover? To top you, he must be damn strong. Or damn good."
"He is both," Mihawk admitted, with a hint of reluctant admiration to whoever this other lover was.
Zoro laughed softly. "Well shit, now I have some fucking competition."
The shichibukai shook his head. "You're many decades away from reaching his level, little frog."
Zoro knew he was probably right. His sexual experience was minimal, so he had to make up for it in other ways. Mihawk had seemed impressed by his size, at least. It was a slight advantage, and the young man used it, bucking his hips up, using his leg muscles and stomach muscles, thrusting up as Mihawk forced his way down. The low hiss from his teacher told him that this was definitely a vantage for him.
Still, Zoro could not keep it up for long. Despite his struggle to maintain control, the pain in his eye threw off his concentration. He felt himself losing focus as pain interrupted his meditation.
"Enough," Mihawk whispered, aware of his student's struggle. "Let yourself go, Roronoa. I shall do the same. No competition this time. Just pleasure. Release your control. Enjoy it purely."
That order from his master could not be disobeyed. At his gentle words, Zoro came instantly, shouting in ecstasy at being allowed to release. A moment later, Mihawk also relaxed from his constrained equipoise. With a surge of sensations that had been dammed up, his chiseled face flinched, his back arched, his mouth opened in a brief cry of immense pleasure, and white semen painted the scar he had placed on this cocky young swordman's chest.
They both paused to catch their breaths. The air was thick with heat, musk, sweat, and the smoke of candles. Zoro's eye opened slowly, blurred with weariness, but he saw the silhouette in the semi-darkness. He could not speak, unsure what could possibly be said now that they had tipped the scale on their student/teacher relationship. This moment had nothing to do with training. It was plain sex, a desire for one another, carnal...nothing more.
Slowly, Mihawk slid off the deflated cock, trying to be careful not to drip semen onto his student nor the bed sheets. He rested on his elbow beside Zoro for a moment, gazing over the glistening skin and the shadows of thick muscles.
"Are you all right, Zoro?"
Hearing the swordmaster call him that and not Roronoa brought up a deep heat into Zoro's chest. "I'm good," he replied curtly, too flustered to say more.
"I shall clean you, then you should rest. Take it easy for a couple of weeks until you properly heal."
Zoro stared at the ceiling, but he felt the heat of Mihawk's sinewy body move away. His eye turned as he watched the man walk to a water basin and splash a towel into it. When the shichibukai returned, the wet towel was warm, soaking Zoro's chest as his teacher gently wiped up the mess. Then with utmost delicacy, Mihawk wiped clean the soft flaccid member, as well as Zoro's inner thighs where some lube had dripped. The young swordsman merely watched all this silently, admiring the tender attention. Then Mihawk placed the used towel aside, reached to a nearby table, and held a goblet up to Zoro's lips.
"Drink," he ordered.
Zoro did not question the contents. It tasted like medicine mixed with wine, but he swallowed it down with only a slight grimace.
"You should rest now," Mihawk whispered, setting the goblet back on the table. "I shall stay with you tonight, and as long as you need."
Zoro felt oddly happy to hear him promise this, and the medicine kicked in fast. His eye felt heavy, his head swam, and he barely noticed the swordmaster covering his naked body with blankets.
"Thanks...Mihawk," he mumbled as sleep took control.
In a haze of dreams that rushed forward eagerly, he heard a faint voice. "You're a good blade, Roronoa Zoro. To have you come into my hands makes me...happy."
Zoro smiled weakly as the blackness took over, sweeping him away.
End of Chapter 5

A/N: As of writing this, we don't know how Zoro injured his eye, or if it's really gone. What if he's like Kenpachi and when he opens his eye he gets totally serious? To prevent causing utter destruction, he keeps one eye closed. I've read that theory in a few places. He TOTALLY needs an eye patch. That would be epic!
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Rum, Sodomy, and the Lash