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    Summary

    "What do I smell like?"

    "Damned if I know," the warlord breathed, shoving the swordsman down so he could pull his damned coat off, yank his haramaki over his head. "You're the first person who's ever smelled this good and I want to eat you alive."

    Zoro's breath caught. Not in the way Law expected, not in one of the many gasps of pleasure he'd already pulled out of the other man. His brows were high when Law's gaze returned to his face, his working eye just a little wide. Law felt a sudden heat rush up his throat and into his face.

    "Shut up," he mumbled, moving back to work off Zoro's boots (to break eye contact).

    The younger man's swallow was audible.

    "...Nobody's smelled as good as you, either."

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