[AUTHOR NOTE: Promised extra chapter for 5 reviews.]
Gol D. Roger skipped across the waves like a skipped stone, disappearing over the horizon.
On the island, silence reigned.
No one actually thought a single punch could kill Roger. They assumed York had pulled a fast one—a trick to land a clean hit.
But minutes passed. Roger didn't come back.
"Could it be..." Kaido murmured, eyes wide. "Did York actually kill him?"
"Don't be stupid!" Scopper Gaban snapped. "Captain wouldn't die from that!"
Rocks sneered, turning away. "That idiot Roger gave up the fight. Let's go. Show's over."
York stood in the ruins, dispelling the Haki from his fists. He pouted.
"Roger! You bastard!" he shouted at the sea. "Getting knocked out on purpose?! Next time, I'll beat you for real!!"
The Rocks Pirates disbanded, disappointed.
The Roger Pirates scrambled to their ship. They sailed swiftly to the coordinates where their Captain had landed.
They found him floating on his back.
Roger had a goofy, blissful smile plastered on his face. His eyes were glazed over, seeing a paradise only he could see.
"Eh heh~" Roger mumbled, drooling. "Shakky... don't be shy... oh ho ho... so comfortable..."
Rayleigh's face turned pitch black. He slowly drew his sword.
"Gaban. Don't stop me. I'm going to kill him."
Gaban didn't stop him. He pulled out his twin axes.
"Stop you? I'll help you chop him up! That bastard is dreaming about our crush!"
Skull Mountain.
Regardless of the method, York had won.
He returned to his quarters. Gloriosa pounced on him like an octopus the moment the door closed, rewarding her champion with passionate, fiery kisses.
York carried his beautiful wife to the bathroom, leaving the chaos of the world behind.
The Bar.
As the sun set, Stussy sat alone in the corner of Shakky's bar, surrounded by empty bottles.
She was drowning.
She saw Whitebeard standing up to leave. Desperation clawed at her throat.
"Newgate..."
She stood up, swaying.
"I... hiccup... I'll ask you one last time..."
Tears welled in her eyes.
"Are you willing... to marry me?"
Whitebeard stopped. He turned, looking down at the flushed, broken woman. His expression was soft, but firm.
"I'm sorry, Stussy."
"I truly don't have those feelings for you."
He turned and walked out the door. He didn't look back.
THUD.
Stussy collapsed onto the table. Bottles shattered on the floor.
Shakky walked over. She gently patted Stussy's shoulder, her own heart aching. She knew the pain of loving a stone wall.
"I'll take you back to your room," Shakky whispered.
She helped Stussy up. The two women—one rejected by a King, the other by a legend—walked slowly towards Skull Mountain.
They reached the residential corridors.
York had just finished with Gloriosa and was heading to the kitchen. He saw them.
He changed course immediately.
"Do you need help?"
Shakky looked up, instinctively pulling Stussy back. "It's not good to take advantage of the vulnerable, York."
York smiled, but said nothing. He just looked at Stussy.
Stussy lifted her head shakily. Through her tear-blurred vision, York's face and Newgate's face seemed to merge.
She suddenly pulled away from Shakky and stumbled forward, falling into York's chest.
"Wuwu... Wuwuwu..."
She buried her face in his shirt, sobbing uncontrollably.
York wrapped his arms around her. It wasn't a grope; it was a solid, comforting embrace.
After a long while, Stussy looked up. Her makeup was ruined, her eyes raw.
"York! Help me!" she rasped. "Help me forget him!!"
"Stussy, you..." Shakky started to intervene.
But she stopped.
This was Stussy's choice. And Shakky knew that sometimes, the only cure for a broken heart was a new distraction.
York looked at Shakky. "Thank you for bringing her here. Leave the rest to me."
He scooped Stussy up into a bridal carry. She wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging to him like a drowning woman.
York carried her to her room. The door clicked shut.
Shakky stared at the wood for a moment. She sighed.
"I hope... this gives you peace, Stussy."
The door to Stussy's room clicked shut with a soft finality, sealing the two of them away from the rest of Skull Mountain.
York set her down gently on the edge of the bed. Stussy's legs wobbled; she clung to his shirt, fingers twisting the fabric like she might fall apart if she let go. Her mascara had streaked black rivers down her cheeks, lips swollen from crying and liquor. She smelled of rum, salt, and desperation.
"York…" Her voice cracked. "Please. I need… I need it to stop hurting."
He didn't answer with words. Instead he cupped her face with both hands—gentle, almost reverent—and kissed her.
The first kiss was slow, coaxing. Her mouth opened under his immediately, hungry, sloppy with need. She tasted like rum and tears. York deepened it, tongue sliding against hers, swallowing the little broken whimpers she made into his mouth. One hand slid down her neck, thumb brushing the frantic pulse there, then lower—over the swell of her breast through her thin dress. Her nipple was already hard, stabbing against the fabric. He pinched it lightly between thumb and forefinger.
Stussy gasped into the kiss, back arching. "Ah—!"
He broke the kiss to trail his mouth down her throat, teeth grazing skin. She tilted her head back, offering more, fingers digging into his shoulders. York's other hand found the zipper at the back of her dress and dragged it down in one smooth pull. The dress pooled at her waist, revealing pale skin, small perfect breasts with dusky pink nipples already tight and aching.
He bent and took one into his mouth.
Stussy cried out—a sharp, needy sound. "Hah—York—!" Her hands flew to his hair, clutching. He sucked hard, tongue flicking the tip, then grazed it with his teeth. Her hips jerked forward involuntarily, thighs pressing together. He could smell her arousal already, sweet and heady.
He switched to the other nipple, lavishing it the same attention while his hand slid between her thighs. She was soaked through her panties. The fabric clung to her folds, outlining every detail. He rubbed the heel of his palm against her clit through the cotton.
Stussy's whole body jolted. "Nngh—! There—please—"
He hooked two fingers under the edge of her panties and yanked them down her thighs. They caught briefly at her knees before she kicked them off. Now she was bare to him—pink, glistening, untouched. Her virgin slit was puffy, clit swollen and peeking from its hood, a thin string of slick stretching between her folds as she parted her legs wider.
York groaned against her breast. "Fuck, Stussy… you're dripping."
She whimpered, embarrassed and aroused at once. "Don't—don't look—"
But he did. He dropped to his knees between her spread thighs, hands pushing her legs wider. He blew a soft stream of air directly over her clit.
Stussy shrieked, hips bucking. "Ahhn—!"
He leaned in and licked her in one long, slow stripe from entrance to clit.
Her taste exploded on his tongue—sweet, musky, virgin-clean. She screamed, hands flying to his head, thighs clamping around his ears. He didn't stop. He sealed his mouth over her clit and sucked, tongue circling the sensitive bud in tight, relentless loops.
Stussy's cries turned incoherent. "York—York—oh gods—hah—hah—too much—!"
Her hips rolled against his face, grinding, chasing. Wet, obscene slurping sounds filled the room as he devoured her. He slipped one finger inside her—slowly, carefully. She was impossibly tight, walls fluttering around the single digit like they were trying to pull him deeper. He curled it upward, searching.
The moment he found her g-spot she convulsed.
"AAH—! There—there—there—!"
He added a second finger, scissoring gently to stretch her while his tongue battered her clit. Her thighs trembled violently. Slick gushed around his fingers, dripping down his wrist. Her breathing turned ragged, desperate.
"I—I'm gonna—York—!"
She came with a wail, back bowing off the bed, thighs locking around his head. Her walls clamped down hard on his fingers, pulsing, milking. A fresh flood of slick coated his hand. She sobbed through the aftershocks, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes.
York pulled back, lips glistening. He stood, stripping off his shirt and pants in quick, efficient movements. His cock sprang free—heavy, thick, veins standing out, the head already leaking pre-cum.
Stussy stared, eyes wide. "It's… big…"
He climbed over her, kissing her softly. "We'll go slow. Tell me to stop if it hurts too much."
She nodded, trembling. "I want it. I want you."
He notched the head at her entrance, rubbing it up and down her slit, coating himself in her wetness. Then—slowly—he pushed in.
Stussy's breath hitched. The head popped past her entrance with a wet sound. She whimpered at the stretch—burning, aching fullness. "Nngh—it hurts—"
He froze, kissing her tears away. "Breathe. Relax for me."
She nodded, forcing herself to exhale. He sank in another inch. Her walls fluttered wildly around him, trying to accommodate. Blood tinged the base of his cock—proof of her virginity. He groaned at the sight, hips twitching.
"Fuck… so tight…"
Another inch. Stussy's nails dug into his back, leaving red trails. "Ah—ah—full—too full—"
Halfway now. He paused again, letting her adjust. Her inner muscles rippled around him, squeezing rhythmically. She was crying softly, but her hips were rocking in tiny, needy movements.
"More…" she whispered. "Please… all of it…"
York gritted his teeth and pushed the rest of the way in with one slow, relentless thrust.
Stussy screamed—half pain, half pleasure. "Aaaah—!"
He bottomed out, hips flush against hers. Her walls clamped down like a vice, fluttering wildly. He could feel every ridge, every pulse. She was crying openly now, but her legs wrapped around his waist, heels digging into his ass, pulling him deeper.
"Don't stop," she sobbed. "Move—please—"
He pulled out halfway—slow, dragging—and thrust back in.
The wet slap of skin on skin echoed. Stussy keened, high and broken. "Hah—hah—yes—!"
He set a slow rhythm at first, letting her get used to it. Each thrust punched a new sound out of her—sharp gasps, needy whimpers, wet squelching as her pussy swallowed him again and again. Her nails raked down his back. Her heels spurred him faster.
"Harder—York—harder—!"
He snapped his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt. The bed creaked. Stussy's cries turned into full-throated moans.
"Ah—ah—ah—! Yes—there—right there—!"
He angled his thrusts to hit her g-spot on every stroke. Her walls spasmed around him. Slick dripped down his balls, soaking the sheets. The room smelled of sex—sweat, musk, her sweet arousal.
She was babbling now. "York—York—don't stop—fuck me—make me forget—make me yours—!"
He growled against her throat, teeth sinking in lightly. "You're mine now. Say it."
"I'm—hah—yours—! Yours—!"
He fucked her harder, hips snapping, balls slapping against her ass. The wet, filthy sounds of their joining filled the room—schlick-schlick-schlick—punctuated by her desperate cries.
She came suddenly, violently. "AAHH—! Cumming—cumming—!"
Her pussy clamped down like a fist, milking him. York groaned, thrusts turning erratic. He buried himself deep and came with a guttural sound, flooding her with hot spurts. She whimpered at the sensation—warmth blooming inside her, marking her.
They stayed locked together for long moments, panting. His cock twitched inside her, still hard. She shivered, oversensitive.
He kissed her softly. "Better?"
She nodded, tears of a different kind in her eyes. "Again… please… I still see him…"
The Morning After.
York woke up early. Stussy was still asleep, exhausted from the hangover and the... activity.
He went to the kitchen to get breakfast.
In the hallway, he passed Whitebeard.
The two men stopped. They exchanged a glance. There was no hostility, only a silent understanding among men.
"Although I don't love her," Whitebeard rumbled softly, looking straight ahead. "Please don't let her down."
"Don't worry," York replied calmly. "You don't need to concern yourself with my woman."
York returned to the room with a tray of food.
Stussy was awake.
She lay on the edge of the bed, looking fragile and scared, like a startled kitten. The bravado of Miss Buckingham was gone.
"York..." she whispered, reaching out a trembling hand. "Where did you go..."
Her eyes were filled with panic.
"I... I still see his shadow... Newgate is still in my head..."
"Help me..." she begged, pulling him down. "Help me forget him again..."
"Then we keep going until you can't see anything but me."
This time he took her from behind.
She was on her knees, face pressed into the pillow, ass in the air. York knelt behind her, hands gripping her hips as he slid back inside. She was still slick with their combined release; he bottomed out in one smooth glide.
Stussy keened into the pillow. "Mmmph—deep—!"
He set a punishing pace—hard, deep, relentless. Each thrust punched the air from her lungs in sharp, needy cries. "Ah—ah—ah—! York—!"
His balls slapped wetly against her clit with every stroke. She reached back, fingers finding her swollen nub, rubbing frantically.
"Gonna—gonna cum—again—!"
He leaned over her, chest to her back, teeth at her ear. "Cum for me. Squeeze my cock. Milk me dry."
She shattered with a muffled scream, walls convulsing. York followed seconds later, groaning as he filled her again—hot, thick pulses that made her whimper.
They collapsed together, tangled, breathless.
Stussy turned in his arms, pressing her face to his chest. "I don't see him anymore," she whispered.
"Just you."
York kissed her forehead. "Good. Because I'm not letting you go."
She smiled—small, fragile, real.
"Promise?"
"Promise."
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