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Summary
Mihawk’s lips ghost your neck, tongue brushing against the still bruising bite mark. “Is that what you needed to get you to behave? Did you need my attention, my affection.”
He leaves a chaste kiss against the mark. Everything is still for a moment, the castle air warm and clammy on your skin, suffocating in your lungs. The breeze has paused the branches rhythmic thumping against partially open windows.
Mihawk is perfectly still except for the tilt of his head to look in your eyes. “Why did you let your pride get in the way of me being a dutiful husband?”