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Summary
Dohalim couldn't help it if he tried. Which he didn't even in the slightest. Every single time Law lifted his arms above his head to stretch his back, every time he bent down to pick something off the ground, every time he raised his hand to point at a zeugle in the distance, Dohalim's eyes were drawn to the expanse of milk-white skin peeking through Law's sinfully cut attire. Law's sides were always on display, however, when he moved his arms up, Dohalim could get a glimpse of the abs hiding underneath the thin fabric. The sight made Dohalim's mouth water so much so he had to bite his lower lip hard to prevent a moan from rising from his throat.