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Sabo’s seventeen now, or they think he might be. His age is one of those things he lost in the fire, but Sabo never seemed to mind much either way.
He’s difficult to read nowadays, even for Koala, who’d known him longer than most. She doesn’t fully blame him. Dragon’s been involving Sabo in more things now, tutoring as much as you could educate someone in the matters of war and revolution.
But Sabo is seventeen now and this number means something to him.
She watches as he drops on his side of the bed that was just Koala’s once upon a time before the nightmares got too heavy. He’s exhausted, but more in the way that suggests Hack’s been making him train the ash orphans again, rather than from the mission he just returned from.
“I don’t get it,” Sabo says aloud, the closest way he comes to asking for company these days.
Koala sits up in her chair and pushes away the papers. She has to memorize them until tomorrow before they’re burned. “What?”
“Sex,” Sabo replies, then he smiles crudely, his scar setting the grin a little lopsided, making him look mean. “Fucking. It’s just bodies. It hurts or it doesn’t, seas if I know. Why do they care so much that they’d make it a whole trade?”
Sabo’s mission, Koala thinks, was information gathering. She hasn’t known what kind, but she can guess now.
“It’s about power,” she says. “Dominance.”
“I mean, yes, obviously,” replies Sabo. “But I still don’t get it. It’s not like—”
He pauses, squints.
“Power,” he repeats, pauses. “Strength, huh.”
In a dirty fight, Koala knows she can take him. If she has the advantage due to the environment or the element of surprise. Otherwise, Sabo’s been kind of above her level for a while. He spars mainly with the other higher-ups for the exercise, Dragon only if he wants to actually train or get beaten to the ground depending on his mood.
“Koala, do you think Dragon would fuck me?”
Koala opens her mouth, pauses. She doesn’t think he would, but Dragon’s crossed many lines for their survival.
But this isn’t about Dragon, really.
“Why?”
“’Cause I wasn’t feeling very dominated. Oh, I played the part just fine, the guy bought it, but I knew I could kill him at any moment. I wasn’t helpless or felt like he’d made me submissive or anything. I knew I was in control. There are very few people here stronger than me.” It’s a miracle that he doesn’t sound like an arrogant bastard saying that. “But Dragon’s stronger. Leagues stronger. I wouldn’t be in control if it were him.”
The more Sabo thinks about it, the more convinced he seems to be of his idea. It’s not a bad one, Koala has to admit, but she isn’t sure whether this is Sabo thinking logically about it or if this is Sabo coming home and crashing after the events of his mission.
“Are you sure you want to ask him that?”
Sabo grins. “Yeah,” he says. “Worst case, he sends me away, best case, I learn something new. He could hold me down, Koala. I could struggle all I want, but he could just pin me down with Armament and that would be it.”
By the end of his little speech, Sabo sounds downright cheery and enthusiastic about his plan. A little out of breath too, maybe, eyes blown wide. It could be arousal, but the color is that of pre-battle excitement. Admittedly, they’re the same to many of their soldiers.
Koala throws her pen at him. “Go wild then. And don’t fuck in our room. I still intend to sleep here later.”
Sabo throws a meaningful look at her papers.
“Shut up, I do plan to go to sleep. Now go bother our esteemed leader.”
Sabo gets up and bows to her once as if signaling the end of a performance, then he’s out of the room, leaving Koala to her thoughts.
And her work.
Urgh.
Sabo knocks on Dragon’s door but doesn’t wait for the man to actually call him inside. At this time, nobody will be bothering Dragon unless there’s an emergency, and Sabo wouldn’t be able to get any peace of mind in that scenario anyway. As expected, their leader is sitting at his desk, looking over another report. It is strange how much paperwork is involved in running a revolution. He certainly hadn’t noticed it when he’d been younger.
“Sabo,” Dragon greets without looking up. “How can I help you?”
Sabo rolls his eyes and sits down at the chair that, over time, had become his chair by virtue of him claiming it and pushing everyone else off it when he wanted to sit on it.
“I could just come check up on you,” he says.
“You’ve just returned from a mission and are meant to rest with Koala. Unless she has thrown you out of your room because she’s still working, I will assume you’re here because you want something.”
There is no way Dragon just concluded that. He’s had to be using Observation Haki to get such a read that quickly. Sabo still isn’t so good that he can differentiate precise activities, but he supposes that with some training. He’ll get there soon enough.
“That was harsh, Commander,” Sabo sighs and leans back in his chair, watching Dragon.
The man is hyper-focused on his task, his green cape and black jacket for once lying abandoned on another chair, leaving the man in his white dress shirt. For fire-starting, storm-bringing terrorists, they were pretty well dressed.
“Dragon.”
“Yes?”
“I want you to fuck me.”
Dragon stays silent, finishes reading his sentence, then puts his pencil down and turns to look at Sabo, who’s lounging in his chair like he has had so many afternoons in the past.
“Does this have to do with your mission?” Dragon asks.
Sabo rolls his eyes. “Obviously,” he says. “I did write out how the extraction went, didn’t I?”
He’d been kind of looking forward to a proper honeypot mission just for the sake of writing a report that is a little more interesting. Unfortunately, it turns out that there’s very little difference between ‘I extract information by bashing that guy’s head in’ and ‘I sucked his dick while he talks’ when it comes to actually writing out a report.
“You did,” Dragon affirms. “Do you want to talk to one of the Kamabakka personnel, perhaps?”
Annoyed, Sabo clicks his tongue. “For what purpose? They don’t know me all that well. Besides, I talked to Koala and I know what I want.”
“Sex.”
“Yes, with you, preferably. Or rather, only with you. Don’t really think anyone else would be capable of helping me out.”
Dragon doesn’t even look particularly surprised by the request. Sabo’s giddy with the need to take him apart and ask about all his firsts. Had he been fifteen too the first time he got on his knees for a stranger’s confession? Testing out which drugs got you all pliant and willing at sixteen? There has to be some history hiding beneath the coat and all the ways Dragon puts their sexual education in the hands of whores and hookers and rather has them learn too early than too late.
“Walk me through your thought process,” Dragon orders and sits back in his chair. Sabo would look small in his lap, and even though he isn’t quite done growing yet, the height difference will remain. Dragon could probably bend him over the desk without any trouble. This too pleases him for the plan he intends to put into practice.
“I don’t really care about sex,” Sabo says. “I’d rather have a good fight than anything like that. But with the missions we take, the people we meet, it’s about fucking and not fighting. They like control, the dominance. Their slaves can’t refuse no matter how much they beg, and I don’t understand why they enjoy that, what having that power does to them because they’ll never have that power over me.”
He can think of some marine admirals that would have that power, but they’d rather imprison or kill the Revolution’s Firebrand than fuck him, so they don’t count.
“So you want to experience having that type of control over me?” Dragon summarizes.
Sabo laughs and shakes his head. “No, no. I want you to force me into submission. I can’t quite play my part otherwise. I need to know the helplessness.”
I want you to put me on my knees and make me beg, Sabo doesn’t say, but Dragon seems to get it either way.
“Are you sure?”
Sabo clicks his tongue. “Have I ever been unsure in my demands, Commander?”
They both know the answer to that. Sabo is as stubborn as can be, always speaking his mind and forcing people to go along with his insane plans. He can’t be restrained, not even by the worst of injuries, pushing through the pain toward his goal. Nobody makes Sabo do anything he doesn’t want to, so he needs this.
“I won’t cry wolf,” Sabo promises. “How about ‘fire’ if I need an out?”
Dragon deems this acceptable by dragging Sabo out of his chair. He hardly has the time to yelp when Dragon puts him on his knees. Were they on the street and not indoors, Sabo would have probably come away with scratches. This is still familiar territory at least and Sabo can’t help his cocksure grin. He finds that he wants to put on a show, tease Dragon for starting with such an easy task until his patience snaps and he makes Sabo regret mouthing off.
He doesn’t get the chance to voice his complaints as Dragon undoes his fly and pulls himself out. His cock is bigger than what Sabo took before. Had Sabo known, he would’ve prepared himself more. If they want him functional tomorrow morning, he will need more prep than the hours he expected to spend here. Or maybe it was closer to reality like this, and Sabo should just learn to take it.
This doesn’t push his limits yet, so Sabo is obedient and puts his mouth on Dragon. He could probably learn to enjoy this stretch, being full and incapable of speaking for a while, his thoughts not racing quicker than any racing boat.
Dragon stays quiet, which ruins the performance a bit as all the men always like to talk about how much they loved having their dick sucked, but this isn’t about Dragon or pleasure, so Sabo pretends the Commander tells him all the filthy degrading things. He almost falls into the bored lull when Dragon suddenly reaches for Sabo’s hair. He pulls at it until Sabo has all of him in his mouth. His gag reflex is a thing of the past, but Sabo still chokes at the unexpected movement. He flails, instinct telling him that he needs to pull off to breathe properly, but Dragon won’t let him. Sabo struggles, fingers digging into Dragon’s legs, but he won’t let go of Sabo.
He can’t push him off.
With the same iron will that forced him to stay quiet as he broke his bones, Sabo forces himself into compliance. He remembers to breathe through his nose, relax his mouth and let the tension bleed from his shoulders. He can do it, all he needs to do is perform his job adequately. He needs to be soft and pleasant, as entertaining as a pretty piece of furniture.
Dragon draws back a bit to fuck into Sabo’s mouth. He’s slow at first, which could be mercy or preference, but his pace becomes difficult to keep up with as he continues. Drool runs down Sabo’s chin, the sensation entirely uncomfortable. He wants to pull back, but even the slightest attempt has Dragon dragging him back by his hair. His grip on it is firm enough that Sabo wonders whether some strands have been ripped out.
He bears it, not having much of an option.
Just when Dragon’s movements become a little erratic, promising the end of this entanglement, he lets go of Sabo. Fresh air fills his mouth, and Sabo coughs, the taste of precome at the back of his mouth not the worst he ever had, but definitely low on the list. He’ll have to brush his teeth properly tonight. Koala will have his head if he comes to bed like this.
Dragon watches him struggle, his expression entirely unreadable. He isn’t cold, just distant. The sensation settles like warmth in his stomach.
“Was it good?” Sabo asks, his voice already a little raw.
Dragon doesn’t answer, but he does reach for Sabo’s collar and lifts him into his lap and a bruising kiss. Sabo squirms, but there’s no control to be gained when large hands pin his own. Dragon bites at his lips until Sabo tastes copper and only then leaves them while the pain lingers. Being manhandled is starting to get to Sabo. If he could, he’d sneak a hand into his pants just to get off himself and lower the sensations he feels, but his hands are still tightly gripped, so he can’t.
Hauled into Dragon’s lap as he is, he can actually feel his dick against his ass. Attempting to put some space between them is futile, especially once Dragon tips him over his desk, face mushed uncomfortably against the wood. He raises his arms to push himself up, but Dragon pins them behind his back with one of his own.
It doesn’t even seem to take him any effort.
Kicking up his legs does nothing to give him some leverage. Sabo whines in frustration, but his complaints go ignored as Dragon reaches for his pants and pull them, together with his underwear, down in one go.
Until now, Sabo’s put up some effort, testing himself and Dragon, but this is when he freezes. He can’t get out. Struggling against Dragon’s hand on his back does little, and he can’t reach anything else. Even the nearest weapon, a sharp pair of scissors, is too far away from his mouth, and his teeth can’t reach anything.
He’s trapped.
His heartbeat quickens as the knowledge sinks in. Sabo’s been trained to get out of most bindings, made a game out of who could do it the quickest, but there’s no getting out of this, not with Dragon pinning him down. He’s incapable of freeing himself, and Dragon can do whatever he wants.
Dragon’s hand palms his ass, then reaches between his cheek. A single finger brushes over his rim, and an unwilling sob escapes Sabo.
“No,” he whimpers. “Don’t.”
But Dragon doesn’t listen. He pushes at the entrance, one digit not even entering him, but Sabo starts to trash, redoubling his efforts to get free as it becomes hard to breathe. He can’t mean to fuck Sabo just like that, can he? They need some lube or Sabo will tear for sure. He’s bled plenty of times already, but never like this.
“Dragon, stop,” Sabo orders. “You have to wait. You can’t—”
“I can do everything,” Dragon breaks his silence. “You, however, can’t tell me what to do.”
And then he pushes not only the one finger inside but also a second, and Sabo cries out. He knocks his head against the wood in an attempt to get away, tears running down his cheek. The intrusion is rough and hurts, but Dragon doesn’t seem to care. He just fucks Sabo with his fingers.
“Dragon, stop, please,” Sabo begs. “Please, it hurts.”
Sabo broke his leg before so severely they’d worried about his ability to walk. The pain had been terrible, but this was somehow worse. He’d been able to extend control, but all his words fall on deaf ears as Dragon takes what he wants.
“Please,” Sabo chokes. “Please stop, I can’t—I don’t—”
But Dragon doesn’t listen, leaving Sabo struggling for movement, space, and breath. His tears roll into his mouth, tasting worse than seawater, and for all his begging and screaming, nothing stops Dragon from pushing a third finger inside as Sabo screeches.
“Stop! Let me go. Dragon, Dragon, please, Commander, stop, I don’t want this.”
He cries and suffocates on his own difficult breaths. Dragon leans over him, and the usually so comforting scent of thunder and rain nearly makes him gag. He thinks of everyone fast asleep in their dorms, far away from this office, unable to hear him scream. Nobody is coming for him. If he wants to get out, he has to do it himself, and he can’t. He’s immobile under Dragon’s hands and nobody is coming to save him.
“Please,” Sabo begs unnecessarily, as Dragon won’t let up. Instead, he sinks his teeth deep into Sabo’s shoulder, staking some pointless claim. Something wet trickles down his collarbone. Blood, Sabo thinks, but he has no way to confirm it.
Is this what the infliction of dominance feels like? Being bled against your will?
Sabo doesn’t know how long Dragon has been at it already, can’t even see the position of the stars out of the window. It can’t have been longer than half an hour. He thinks of the stories of the whores in their pockets, speaking of information extracted over hours, being taken over and over again until they couldn’t even talk anymore.
He thought he understood, but he still has his voice even after all of this. How much worse is it for them?
When Dragon finally withdraws his fingers, Sabo feels raw, hollowed out, and used. He knows there was a point to this exercise, but his legs are too weak to hold him up now, never mind whatever grand plan he had.
He expects Dragon to withdraw, ask him if he’s satisfied, but that doesn’t happen. Instead, he hears a drawer open. Dragon removes something from it, then closes the drawer again. Without any effort, he turns Sabo around. He can’t imagine making a very pretty picture, eyes red from crying. Dragon stays impassive.
“That bad, Commander?” Sabo asks with a laugh he isn’t sure he means.
Dragon stays quiet but seizes Sabo’s hands again, wrapping some rope around them until they’re tied together, and any wiggle only burns his wrists.
“Dragon, what—”
“We’re not done yet,” Dragon says easily, unbothered.
Sabo’s eyes go wide. Having his hands in front of him should make it easier to escape and scramble away, he knows he can break through them with Armament Haki, but he can’t measure up the concentration for it. He wheezes, panic closing around his throat. His haki hasn’t failed him in years, not even when he is close to fainting.
“Dragon, no,” Sabo presses out. “This is enough. I get it now. You don’t have to—there’s no need to go that far.”
He tries to kick, but Dragon effortlessly pushes himself between his legs. Dragon’s always pushed Sabo beyond his limits, but he’s also always listened. Rarely has a meaningful demand gone unacknowledged, a question unanswered. And yet Dragon refuses to listen to Sabo now. He tears at Sabo’s clothes and takes the cravat from his throat. It should come as a relief, but he gags Sabo with it.
“Hand sign if you must,” he comments and inspects Sabo’s torso. He runs his hands over the old burn scars Sabo doesn’t even allow Koala to touch. Slowly, counting the ribs beneath his fingertips. This is worse than sex because rape happens to everyone, but his scars are personal. Dragon knows this, and still he continues as if the tears Sabo can’t cry anymore mean nothing.
He tries to speak around the gag, but the cloth takes away even this last resistance. Sabo cannot move, cannot keep Dragon from dragging his hands over his scars, down to his crotch. He spits in his hand before he wraps it around Sabo’s cock. To his embarrassment, it only takes a few strokes for him to come. This is worse than any betrayal. Shouldn’t his body know better than to derive pleasure from unwanted touch?
Dragon wipes the come from his hand and picks Sabo’s pants up from the floor, rummaging through them until he retrieves a bottle of lube.
“So you did come at least a little prepared.”
Sabo grabbed the bottle when passing the medical wing. Somehow the fact that Dragon thought of it only now has him hiccupping. Hasn’t his body already endured enough? Lying on his stomach, Sabo couldn’t see what was done to him, and while the ignorance was frightening, this might be worse. He can see Dragon slick himself up without any care in the world before he aligns himself with Sabo’s entrance. He pushes in without another word until he bottoms out. Sabo isn’t given a second to adjust when Dragon sets a brutal pace. He puts one hand on Sabo’s hips, leaving bruises he will see for days. The other goes to his throat, not quite choking him, but most certainly a threat and a promise.
He’s utterly at Dragon’s mercy.
There’s no fight left in him after that realization. Sabo just lies there, takes it, and waits for it to finally end.
He wants to crawl back to his room, safe in his bed under the blanket, with Koala curled up next to him. The desire sounds so pathetic and childish, hate curls in his gut. He should be better than this, but safety seems so far away with Dragon holding him down, forcing sobs out of his throat.
Eventually, Dragon spills inside him. He remains for a moment, then he withdraws, leaving the come to slowly trickle out of Sabo. He can’t make himself relax, expecting yet another violation even as Dragon removes the ropes from his hands and pulls the gag from his mouth. Sabo remains on the desk, panting even as Dragon gets himself dressed again and steps away from his desk. He returns after a while with a towel and cleans the blood from Sabo’s shoulder, the come from his legs.
“You need to take a shower,” Dragon says. “Clean yourself up properly before you go to bed. Can you do that?”
And here’s the ugly truth, Sabo doesn’t know.
“I don’t think I can even walk,” Sabo replies. “Give me a second.”
His voice sounds like the aftermath of battle and Dragon handing him a glass of water shouldn’t be a surprise. It gets rid of the worst of the taste and refreshes him somewhat.
Sabo stays on the desk even as Dragon returns to his paperwork like he didn’t just fuck resistance out of him. In all his years with the Revolutionary Army, Sabo has never expected that his anger could be taken from him, leaving someone passive and inactive behind, but now he’s sitting here, feeling just like it.
Like taint, it clings to him, utterly revolting.
Sabo watches Dragon, whose calm betrays none of his thoughts.
“Did you like it?” Sabo hears himself ask. “Fucking me even when I was begging you to stop?”
Dragon finishes his sentence – instructions for their spies in Alabasta, Sabo reads over his shoulder – and exhales. He leans back in his chair, larger than life still.
“I don’t enjoy feeling helpless,” Dragon says.
Sabo rolls his eyes and begins closing the buttons on his shirt. Dragon didn’t ruin it, luckily. “I don’t either, but that doesn’t answer my question. Did my begging turn you on?”
Some things are just simple biology, but Dragon had been hard under Sabo’s touch. This whole endeavor wasn’t supposed to be about Dragon, but Sabo finds himself curious and craving knowledge.
“Does it matter?”
Sabo wasn’t sure before, but now he thinks that it more than matters or there’d be a straightforward answer. He looks down at his hands. His wrists are bruised and sensitive to touch when he runs his thumbs alongside them.
Dragon doesn’t take the kinds of missions that require getting on your knees. He’s their strongest fighter and also their most precious. The secrets Dragon holds cannot fall into enemy hands as they will ruin the whole revolution. If they can afford it, they keep him away from active danger.
But this revolution is older than Sabo. There must have been a time when Dragon struggled just as Sabo did now.
He wonders if Dragon expects to survive their cause, if he trains Sabo as ruthlessly because he thinks he might and needs somebody capable of putting him down. If, in another ten years, it’ll be Sabo rendering Dragon helpless.
“I suppose it doesn’t,” Sabo replies.
His legs feel steady now, and although putting his pants on is uncomfortable, he’s sure he can walk back to his room now.
“Thank you, Dragon,” Sabo says and stretches. He winces when it hurts. “Good night!”
“Good night,” says Dragon and remains behind his desk as Sabo disappears down the corridor.
Sabo looks like shit when he stumbles back into their room. Enough time has passed that Koala is done with her work so she can pay him her full attention. His hair is wild and he doesn’t walk quite right.
“So?” Koala prompts.
Sabo grins, bright and brilliant, although the light of the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “I get it now.”
He drops down on their bed and removes his dress shirt to change into another. His torso looks worse, with bruises around his throat and wrists, and a bite mark on his shoulder.
“He didn’t even need to use haki,” Sabo says. “He didn’t—”
Sabo goes quiet.
In all the years Koala has known him, Sabo has never been quiet. Even on stakeouts, sitting still for hours without speaking a single word, Sabo isn’t quiet.
His shoulders start to shake. Laughter, she thinks at first. Hiccups, a moment later, but it only takes a second to reveal that he’s crying. Koala sits up straight in her chair, ready to fling herself across the room to Sabo’s side as his distress rises.
“He could just pin me down,” Sabo echoes his earlier statements. “I couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything at all and he didn’t even need haki. I was just there, letting it happen. I don’t—”
He looks at her, all confused and heartbroken.
“I don’t know why I’m crying. I asked for this, I wanted it, I…”
His voice trails off as another terrible sob escapes him, followed by pitiful weeping. He raises his arms and Koala follows him into them. She wraps them both up in their blanket.
This is where they will stay, safe from the world.