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Summary
“Perhaps I can make it up to you.” Said in a salacious tone, deep enough to make mountains shiver.
Law’s traitorous body trembles, but it’d do him no good getting involved with a man like this. He smells foreign and rich, a slight accent to his tone as if he’s putting on a façade.
“No need to look so afraid little one,” both hands now cradle Law’s, and he’s distinctly reminded of a bird being caught in a cage, “unless you need me to help you relax.”
Law’s jaw drops, and not at all because of the suggestive comment, but because of his audacity.
