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“The sea is
blue Lucifer.
The fallen sky
for wanting to be the light.
Poor sea, condemned
to eternal movement,
long ago resting
quietly in the firmament!
But love
redeemed you from your misery.”
—“Mar” (1919) by Federico García Lorca (extract, rough translation)
The sound of waves is a grounding lullaby. They say you can hear it if you put a seashell close to your ear. Law knows that’s just an illusion, the effect of the air trapped inside, vibrating through the shape of the shell. You could easily recreate it by cupping your hand over your ear. But that’s not very romantic, is it?
If he tried hard enough, Law could make out the distant buzz of the ocean rocking the ship, but it’s difficult to concentrate when there are louder noises surrounding him. Is the rustling of the bedsheets supposed to ring inside his head like that? Is his rapid heartbeat really echoing through the room, or is it just his imagination? He can barely hear his own voice, hitched sighs and gasps deafened by the sound of gentle lovemaking.
Luffy’s face looks blurry above him, the movement of their bodies and the dimness of the room make it hard to distinguish his features. He’s like an oil painting in progress. His jawline is a rough brushstroke, the texture of his skin looks glossy, fresh on the canvas, and the shape of his eyes seems almost liquid.
Law brings both his hands to his lover’s face and cups his cheeks with hesitant tenderness. He feels like he’s smudging the paint when he wipes the sweat under his thumbs.
“Torao…” Luffy breathes, as he puts one hand over Law’s.
He traces the outline of his knuckles before circling his wrist. Then he pulls softly until Law’s palm is against his lips and presses a kiss there. It should feel out of place. The gesture is too delicate for someone like Luffy, and too soft for the primal and obscene nature of sex. But, somehow, it’s right. It’s both nothing like you’d expect and exactly how it’s supposed to be.
“You look sleepy,” Luffy says. “You said you weren’t too tired.”
“I’m not,” Law answers, with a hushed sigh.
“You’re telling dumb lies again.”
“I’m not. I’m not tired, I’m just…” Overwhelmed. On the verge of tears. Drowned in ecstasy. “Just dizzy.”
Luffy gives him a knowing smile. Not the kind that takes up half of his face and shines even in total darkness, but a softer one. It’s the elusive “I got you” smile. The one that happens when Luffy asks him “what’s wrong?” and Law grumbles a “nothing.” It’s also the one from when he told Law “I love you” for the first time.
“I know there’s a lot you don’t tell me,” Luffy had said out of the blue that night, breaking the silence on the deck where they stood alone.
The tone had been neutral, almost lighthearted, but to Law it still felt like an accusation. So he was quick to bite back, defensive.
“I don’t see how that’s—”
“Ah, it’s alright, I didn’t mean it like that,” Luffy cut him off nonchalantly. “I just wanted you to know that I know. And that it’s okay. I don’t need you to tell me. But you don’t need to hide either.”
And then, the smile. Kind, soothing, understanding. “What could he possibly understand?” Law had thought, though it was actually him who was yet to grasp what was going on. But he wasn’t aware of that at the time. It was still a little early. He’d figure it out eventually.
Law didn’t get to say anything before Luffy started talking again. And his next words would stay permanently tattooed somewhere on the back of his skull:
“I love you.”
What the fuck.
“You can’t just—!”
“No, shut up, you don’t tell me what to do. I love you. Shut up.”
And that had been it.
And only a few months later, Law is coming undone under him as he accepts that love without complaints, over and over again. He has become addicted to it.
“Love me, love me, love me,” he hears himself chant inside his head, as if not saying it out loud would make it less obvious and less shameful.
Love me harder, love me more. Love me enough to empty my head and fill it with thoughts of your touch, your warmth, your affection, because I don’t need anything else.
And Luffy does, he always does. Because, like he said that time, he doesn’t need Law to tell him.
He follows the lines of Law’s tattoos with a featherlight touch. It tickles his chest and Law swears he can feel it inside his heart—he swears his blood flows at the rhythm of Luffy’s loving.
Take me and rebuild me until I am yours only. I want to be born again in your arms.
Lips on lips, warm skin melting into his as a raspy moan gets ripped from the back of his throat. It’s raw and vulgar, but Luffy looks at him as if he was a choir singer in his best performance.
Law knows he looks at him like that too, sometimes.
“Torao…” Luffy pants. “Torao, you’re so pretty. Torao, you feel so good.”
Always so talkative. It used to embarrass Law, but now he just hides his face in the crook of his neck and breathes the saltwater scent of his body.
They stay like that for a brief moment, embracing each other in silence, a mess of tangled limbs twisting in inhuman ways to touch better, blend better, feel better. They must look like a monster from the outside. But what a beautiful, genuine monster.
They stay like that and, this time, Law can hear the waves in the distance, keeping them company.
Luffy had told him about the seashell effect once too, he remembers. Law was taking a walk by the shore at sunset, when suddenly he saw Luffy running up to him like an excited little kid, holding a conch with both hands.
“Torao, Torao, look!” he had said, right before putting the shell against Law’s ear, perhaps with a little too much enthusiasm. “Can you hear it? The ocean waves! It’s like magic, they’re trapped inside the shell!”
“Magic? Are you five?” Law responded. “Besides, what’s so special about it? You live in a ship, you hear the real ocean waves every single day at all times.”
And yet, his heart skipped a beat. With Luffy’s palm almost grazing his jaw as he held the shell in place, and the vanishing light of dusk casting orange shadows on his face. It was oddly intimate.
“I know, I know. You hear it all the time too, but do you ever listen?”
The memory blends with reality as Luffy brushes his earlobe and slowly trails his fingertips towards Law’s chin, making him shiver. Luffy’s touch always has that effect on him, whether it’s just a gentle caress or a demanding pull. Whether it’s a kiss on the forehead or a hand between his thighs.
A whimper escapes Law’s voice when Luffy drags his thumb over his lower lip. Another one gets lost in his lover’s mouth when they kiss. Luffy devours each and all of his moans with hunger, savors his tongue as his hands stroke and grab every inch of skin they can reach, and their hips clash delightfully out of tempo.
Law is certain he could map every single crease of Luffy’s lips with his eyes closed. He’d recognize the chapped texture and the saline flavor anywhere. He could draw their shape when they press against his nape with the precision of a portrait artist, or outline the mark of his teeth when they bite his shoulder. And still, they never stop feeling new. Every kiss is both the first and the last.
“You taste good,” Luffy says against his mouth, in between gasps.
It’s not dirty talk, not really. It’s just honesty.
“Fuck,” Law can only sob, as he digs his nails in his partner’s back. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
And he can’t stop thinking about that stupid shell from that day, and how he wishes he had kept it. He should have picked it up right after Luffy dropped it in the sand. It was nothing out of the ordinary, completely useless too, but he’d store it in the first drawer of his desk and take it out to follow each of its dents with his thumb, and every time he did so, it would remind him of Luffy’s scarred skin.
Sticking your fingers inside an empty seashell. Wouldn’t that make quite an obscene picture? But again, it would be just an illusion. Though it’s easy to recreate it with your own body too.
What are you waiting for? You’ve already claimed my body, claim my soul too. I've been saving it for you.
It’s too much, he’s burning from the inside. It’s so intense that Law doesn’t know if he can take it, but he still wants more. He’s always handled pain better than pleasure. Pain is easy to control, he knows where to store it, how to keep it in and how to disregard it. But he’s still learning how to feel good and embrace it without restraints.
“You deserve to feel good too,” is what Luffy always tells him.
“Does it feel good?” is what he asks him now, earnestly.
And Law nods.
“Too good, too good...” he moans.
Kiss, touch, suck, pinch. Luffy’s tongue is everywhere, his hands are everywhere. And he is patient in all the ways you’d never expect him to be. Happy to guide Law through his desire, eager to please him, ready to catch him. Proud of him.
“It’s alright, Torao, it’s alright,” he coos. “Just take it, okay? You can have nice, let it be nice.”
I can have nice. You always give me nice. Even when I want it to hurt, you kiss the pain away. You kiss me like I’m beautiful.
And Law lets his hands roam through Luffy’s body languidly, because he wants it nice for him too. He wonders if he’ll ever be able to swim in his own pleasure like he does, so effortlessly, so naturally. If he’ll learn to love as if he’s always known how to.
He thinks he’s getting there. Slowly.
“I’m—!” he moans. “Ah, ah, Luffy, I’m—!”
“Me too, Torao, I—!”
Luffy grabs him by the waist as his movements start turning more erratic, and Law arches his back until his body is no longer touching the bed. He throws his head back screaming, letting his eyes get clouded with seafoam and his shaky legs strangle Luffy’s hips. Climax hits him like low tide water splashing violently against the rocks.
Luffy follows him shortly after.
They both collapse on the bed, filthy and messy in between the sheets and pillows, and Law feels something wet on his cheeks as he starts becoming aware of his surroundings again.
Why am I crying? When have I started crying?
Luffy doesn’t wipe Law’s tears away. He lets him cry and watches his glassy eyes dissolve like watercolor into his. It’s a victory, in a way, because letting go has stopped feeling like defeat at last.
And then Luffy places his hands over Law’s ears, cupping them.
“What are you doing?” Law asks, his voice small and hoarse.
“One time you told me this is the same as putting a seashell against your ear. Is it working?”
Ah, the artificial sound of the sea. Luffy has created an illusory ocean just for him.
And isn’t that romantic? Who would have thought.
“Yes. Yes, it works,” Law sniffles.
He sees Luffy’s mouth laughing, but he can barely hear it, with the simulated whisper of the waves muffling it. It resembles a storm. The sea that Luffy has crafted for his ears only is a little dangerous, a little troubled, but something about it makes him want to dive in head first. It’s not scary. Not anymore.
He’s not afraid of drowning this time.