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"Don't be a brat. I've given you days to finish that map."
"Do you want it to be a good one or do you want me to do it quickly?" Nami crossed her arms over her chest, thunderstorms in her eyes. "Also, they're charts once they start showing submarine cartography."
"Not gonna take the advice not to be a brat, I see." Arlong grinned, rows and rows of grin, and Nami's lip curled in disgust for not the first time. "Well, if that's the case..." He draped one of his long, grey arms across her shoulders, heavy, and she shuddered at the sandpaper texture along her arm. "Why don't you indulge my favorite thing to do with brats?"
Nami's gut went cold.
Her nipples tightened under her shirt.
"Ulcch," she grunted, tacking down the corners of her current chart more firmly so it wouldn't roll up and smudge the ink. "Fine."
Don't let him see you afraid, she'd learned.
She turned in her seat, draping her elbow across the back of her chair and looking up at him with defiance and heat in her eyes. "You gonna be a gentleman and carry fair lady to her ravishment?"
It's easier if you like it, her body had learned on its own.
"I should bend you over the damn desk," the fish-man growled - no. Purred. She'd learned the difference. "But if you insist."
He was as rough as his skin. Always. Her bed was feet away, but did that matter? She tried to have a little power here, where she could eke it out. Not much. It wasn't possible to have much.
But anything was better than nothing.
He hauled her out of her seat with an arm around her waist, threw her onto her bed hard enough to make her whole body slam into the wall. Her only indication of pain was the twist of her mouth, the furrow of her brow, before her glare turned up at him again.
"I keep telling you bruises get attention when I go out thieving."
"Then you'll just have to stay in and do more charting until they heal, you little shit."
His hand was bigger than her whole head, giving her no choice as he pulled her back to the near edge of the bed, other hand loosing his sash to drop to the floor and pulling his fly open with too much practice.
Ugh. Of course he was hard already.
Whatever. Less work for her.
She took one gross blue dick in each hand, stroking both in non-matching intervals like he liked; she took the whole head of the shorter one into her mouth first, like he didn't.
"You're really testing my patience for bratty little shits today, aren't you?"
His hand shoved down, forcing his cockhead into the back of her throat without giving her any real chance to slick it up. She gagged, and he just thrust deeper like that, several hard rocks of hips to make her choke, drool all over his right cock and her entire chin. Just as unceremoniously he yanked her back by the head, way back, holding her up by the head until her knees left the bed and her neck hurt from the weight.
"Shahahahahaha... look at you. You sure make a pretty mess for a human."
She spat out the corner of her mouth.
"You gonna get to the chase so I can go back to my charts?"
"Feisty. Not sure I like that."
That same damn hand on her head made it too easy for him to throw her into the wall again, back first, knocking the air out of her lungs. Fuck. Her chest burned, her head hot and nauseated, as he yanked off her shorts, tearing the button of the fly. Again.
She hated it like this. Hated the way her heart raced when her lungs were seized up. It never felt less like dying.
Fucking him never felt less like dying.
But that massive hand reached out to her shirt instead of between her legs, pinching one of the little nubs pebbled up so clearly through the fabric, and she arched despite the fact that she could hardly move otherwise, despite the fact that the only sound she could make was a strained rasp.
"This, though. This I like."
Those fingers rolled, back and forth, too kindly, too sweetly, the pinch not tight enough. Stop it, her mind burned. Stop faking gentle, you fucking bastard.
He didn't. Wouldn't, when she was at his mercy like this, when she didn't have the oxygen to do more than squirm. When his other hand yanked one of her thighs to the side, leaving her exposed. When he curled up those webbed fingers to drag the tip of his index finger up her slit.
She was dry as a bone, to neither of their surprise.
Didn't stop him from wiggling that fingertip at her entrance, shoving in a bare inch and making her hips writhe, making her gut lurch with the chafe.
"Think you need a little attention," he growled, narrowed eyes burning into hers. Wordlessly, with just enough motion come back to her, she dragged one hand between her legs and began rubbing gracelessly at her clit. "There you go." The other finger pinched harder, too hard, gagging a raspy scream out of her throat, ripping at her slowly-unclenching lungs. Wet flooded against his fingertip immediately. "That's it." Her eyes burned lightning and smoke up at him. But she kept rubbing, slowly less and less clumsily, as he switched his fingers to the other side of her chest, waggled the other one inside her hole.
God, she hated this.
But between his pinches and twists, the rough drags and wiggles inside her and the angry mashing over her own fingers against herself, she slicked up as slowly but surely as her breath came back.
"Think that's good enough, don't you?" His grin was menacing. It wasn't enough, not nearly, but she gritted her teeth and nodded all the same as he pulled back.
"Yeah. Let me at those cocks."
"Shaaaaahahahahaha! Even a human like you knows fish-man dick is superior, huh?"
Not really. If she hadn't been pretty sure she was gay before the first time he touched her like this, that one time would have been enough to convince her.
"Can't think of any dick I'd like more than yours, Arlong."
Can't think of any dick I'd ever like.
"There's the brat I like."
As always, she wasn't even sure how he moved them both so effortlessly and so fast. One second she was slumped against the wall; the next, he was lying on her bed (god, she hated the way he smelled, hated that her sheets would reek of him until she got a chance to sneak them out for a wash), and she was straddling his massive hips, his toothy skin rough on her bare thighs.
"Now be the bitch I like."
It's easier if you like it.
She didn't bother with foreplay. He'd had his foreplay already, making her squirm, making her hurt. Keeping him waiting would do her no good.
So she clambered up instead, glaring but smoldering, wet and tingling, knowing he'd feel good if she made herself relax.
She hated how good she was at faking anything, even to herself.
His left dick - the bigger one - was easy enough to rub along her slit. Easy enough to catch the head of in her hole, since he'd stretched her uncomfortably with his finger. Less easy to sink onto - never easy to sink onto - but she let her weight do it anyway, discomfort be damned. The sooner she got this over with, the sooner he'd leave.
The rougher it was, the harder she'd come.
He didn't fit all the way. Never did. But she rocked down anyway, hard as she could, far as she could, until she flinched, mouth and eyes both screwing up in full grimace. His stupid laugh was a chuckle, and he reached out to pinch both her nipples hard again. She keened, half pleasure, half horrible pain. He liked it when she suffered.
She felt better about doing this willingly when she suffered.
Her legs were weak from the abuse to her torso, the burn still low in her lungs, but she braced both hands on his stomach all the same, scratching up her palms, as she pushed up, sank back down. It hurt. She was sopping wet. The next movement was easier. She felt sick. Eventually, she started to manage a weak rhythm, difficult with how big he was, feet instead of knees braced on the mattress. His fucking fingers got rougher, meaner, twisting this way and that, pulling, pinching so hard she half thought he'd rip her skin apart. His whole cock was wet with her slick: not just what she was taking, but all the way to his balls, her fluids dripping down.
As the rhythm got easier, as he mashed at her nipples and made her hips start to shake, she shifted her weight, wrapping her left hand around his right dick and stroking faster than she was fucking, jerking him hard and palming at his huge head, wanting to tear both cocks and his balls off with every touch.
He let her, broad grin in too many teeth, groaning occasionally and rolling his hips up as she rocked down, pushing too deep, making her stomach lurch. She hated this. She hated him. She hated herself.
"Look at you sweat. Look at those hips rock. You're close, aren't you, brat?"
She hated that he was right.
"You know what to do. I wanna see those fingers back on that little nub."
She shifted her weight, sitting up, all her balance on her feet. She started to do squats, taking him inside as she did, more exercising on his dick than riding it. Her left hand kept stroking his right cockhead. His fingers stayed brutal on her tits.
It only took a few minutes with her right hand before she came sobbing.
"That's right."
He hadn't come.
She shivered, tears streaming down her cheeks, whole face screwed up. Crying was fine. Grimacing was fine.
As long as she didn't let him know she was scared.
It was no surprise when he flipped her, grabbing her by the neck and slamming her facedown at the foot of her bed, rolling easily onto his knees behind her as he did. She clutched at the sheets, bracing, teeth dug into her lower lip.
Screamed, no surprise to either of them, when he shoved both those fucking claspers in her pussy at once.
He was too big.
He was always too big.
It hurt, and she sobbed, and he laughed that stupid, ugly laugh as he fucked mercilessly into her, yanking her hips back every time he slammed forward.
She was screaming in minutes.
They were only half from pain.
"Only thing I'll give human women," he huffed above her. "Nice and tight."
"Arlong..." It was a sob, thick and wet. Her voice dripped need as thickly as her pussy dripped slick.
"That's it, Nami. You're my obedient little girl, aren't you?"
"Yes..."
"Done being a brat for a while?"
"Please..."
"There's a good little bitch."
His breath was rough. Hers was high and tight. His thrusts shortened, his hands jerking her hips back far more smoothly than his own slammed forward.
And when he groaned, as always, he came enough to flood her, to fill her, to overflow her. Her belly bulged. His cum splattered out onto her sheets and thighs. She wailed as the heat of his seed took her there, made her twitch and come and squirt.
At least now he'd let her change the sheets.