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The setting sun dyed the streets a warm gold as Law, having finished his evening study session at the medical school library, walked home clutching a few heavy professional books. The evening breeze carried the slight chill of early autumn, brushing against the stray hairs on his forehead. Passing by a newly opened pet supply store with a rather playful, childlike decor, he unconsciously slowed his steps.
The window display was filled with all sorts of pet toys, soft beds, and rows of ingeniously designed collars and leashes. One particular dark brown leather collar caught his eye-its design was simple, the leather looked soft and glossy, the buckle was matte metal, and the inside even seemed to allow for custom engraving. Somehow, Shanks' image instantly flashed through Law's mind-the feel of his soft red hair when he nuzzled against Law's palm, and those sparkling red eyes, always brimming with smiles and dependence.
"We just opened! Make a purchase and you can enter our lottery! The grand prize is a deluxe pet package!" The clerk's enthusiastic voice interrupted Law's thoughts. He had no intention of participating, but the clerk had already extended the lottery box towards him.
Out of politeness, Law casually drew a slip-a small card printed with a paw print. He scratched off the coating. It read: "Third Prize: One Exquisite Leather Collar (Custom Engraving Available)".
Law froze. He looked down at the card, then up at the dark brown collar in the window, his heart inexplicably skipping a beat.
"Congratulations!" The clerk smiled brightly, handing him a simple small paper bag. "It's this exact style. Would you like the engraving done now? Or you can take it home and think it over."
Completely out of character, Law nodded. "...Engrave it." His voice was a little dry. He took the small piece of paper the clerk offered, picked up the pen, hesitated for a few seconds, and finally wrote down three letters:
Law.
The moment he wrote those letters, Law's cheeks flushed slightly, a feeling of secret, almost transgressive shame washing over him. But he didn't cross it out.
During the few short minutes while waiting for the engraving, Law's mind was already in turmoil. What am I doing? Shanks is a person, my lover, not a pet. Although he always clings like a big dog, loves to nuzzle, rubs against me when happy, and shows that aggrieved yet obedient look when scolded... he's not actually a dog. Giving him a collar? What is this? An insulting joke? Objectifying him? Reason sharply criticized this impulsive and inappropriate thought.
Yet, another weak but stubborn voice argued in his heart: But this was won in a lottery, practically 'fate'? Besides, would Shanks like it? He seems to... really enjoy that feeling of being 'marked', of being 'claimed'. The test after the fire, the Valentine's Day chocolate, even that time in the alley with the public 'taming'... He showed extraordinary joy and satisfaction every time.
The two thoughts clashed fiercely, making Law's steps heavy as he walked out of the store holding that seemingly light paper bag. The bag felt as heavy as a thousand pounds; inside wasn't just a small collar, but a potential 'bomb' that could cause misunderstanding, even hurt Shanks.
Arriving home, the warm light of the entrance and the familiar aroma of home-cooked food couldn't immediately dispel the conflict in Law's heart. Shanks, as usual, poked his head out from the kitchen wearing that silly little whale apron, his smile radiant: "Welcome back! We've got grilled salmon and mashed potatoes for dinner, almost ready!"
"OK." Law responded vaguely, and almost subconsciously shoved the small paper bag deep into the innermost pocket of his backpack hanging by the entrance, as if it were something shameful.
"What's wrong? You look a bit strange today." Shanks wiped his hands and walked over, instinctively leaning in, sniffing near Law's neck, his brow furrowing slightly. "Mm... the smell of old books from the library, disinfectant, and... a little bit of new leather? Law, did you buy a new bag?"
Law's heart leaped. Was this guy's nose part bloodhound? He forced himself to stay calm and pushed Shanks' face away. "No. I passed a newly opened store, might have picked up the smell. I'm going to wash my hands."
He practically fled into the bathroom, closed the door, and leaned back against the cool tiles, letting out a long breath. In the mirror, the tips of his ears were suspiciously red. It was too obvious; he couldn't hide it from him. But should he take it out now? How would he even say it? "Shanks, I won a dog collar in a lottery and thought it might suit you, here you go?"-Just thinking about it made Law feel like that would be an utterly outrageous thing to say.
During dinner, Law ate absentmindedly. Shanks keenly noticed his distraction, but this time didn't pry. He just silently placed the boneless fish meat onto Law's plate and pushed Law's favorite mashed potatoes closer to him. This quiet thoughtfulness made Law's guilt weigh even heavier.
Forget it, I'll find a chance to throw it away tomorrow. Law decided silently. Pretend it never happened.
However, things weren't that simple. That small paper bag was like a planted seed, quietly taking root in Law's heart. Over the next few days, he couldn't help but think about it. When blow-drying Shanks' hair, watching the soft, obedient red locks, he'd imagine what the collar would look like around that slender neck; when Shanks dozed off on his lap, warm breath against his stomach, he'd unconsciously glance towards his backpack at the entrance; even when they slept embraced, feeling Shanks' unconscious nuzzling and holding, that thought would surface like a phantom-what if I put it on him? What would it be like?
Would he feel offended? Would he be upset? Would he think I don't respect him? Worry entwined Law like vines. But at the same time, a small, undeniable spark of anticipation and curiosity stirred in a hidden corner of his heart. What if... he likes it? Just like he likes those seemingly childish interactions?
This repeated back-and-forth made Law somewhat distracted even in front of Shanks. Shanks obviously noticed, but he said nothing, just became doubly gentle and clingy, as if silently asking with his actions: "What's wrong? Need me to do anything?" This unconditional tolerance and waiting made it even harder for Law to bring it up.
Until the evening of the third day.
Law came out of the shower and found Shanks wasn't in the living room. Shamrock was sitting in his usual armchair reading. Hearing the movement, he looked up at Law, his red eyes calm as ever, and tilted his head almost imperceptibly towards Law's bedroom.
Puzzled, Law walked towards his bedroom. Pushing open the door, the scene inside made him freeze instantly on the spot.
Under the warm yellow glow of the bedside lamp, Shanks was kneeling on the carpet beside the bed. He was only wearing simple lounge pants, his upper body bare, the lines of his flexible muscles clearly visible in the light. His head was slightly bowed, red hair a little messy, and in his mouth, he was carefully holding something –
It was that dark brown leather collar.
The collar looked exceptionally distinct between his lips, the matte metal buckle reflecting a faint light, and the three letters "Law" were engraved on the inside near the buckle, now facing directly towards Law, like a silent proclamation.
Time seemed to freeze. Law's heart pounded wildly, blood rushing to his head, his cheeks and ears burning. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out; he could only stare dumbly at Shanks.
Shanks looked up, his red eyes astonishingly bright in the lamplight. There was no trace of embarrassment, grievance, or reluctance in them, only a pure, intense anticipation and joy that was almost scorching. He tilted his head slightly, his gaze clear like a big dog awaiting its owner's next command, the collar held steadily between his teeth, a questioning "Mm?" sound rumbling faintly in his throat.
Law's mind went blank. All the pre-planned scenarios of awkwardness, explanations, and apologies evaporated in that instant. He was left only with his most instinctive reaction-slowly, step by step, he walked over, knelt down in front of Shanks, his eyes level with his.
Shanks' eyes were fixed on him, reflecting Law's own slightly flustered yet equally emotion-driven face.
Law reached out, his fingertips trembling slightly, and gently, with infinite slowness, took the collar from between Shanks' lips. The leather was still warm from Shanks' mouth and slightly damp, the touch so real it was breathtaking. He looked down at the collar in his palm, then back up at Shanks.
Shanks tilted his head back slightly, fully exposing the long, graceful line of his neck to Law, his gaze focused and trusting, even carrying a hint of urging, as if saying: "Hurry up."
Law's breathing quickened. He unfolded the collar, the cool metal buckle touching his fingertips. He took a deep breath, and with gentle movements, looped the collar around Shanks' neck. The touch of leather on his skin made Shanks squint his eyes in pleasure, his Adam's apple bobbing. Law carefully adjusted the tightness-not too tight, not too loose, just fitting snugly against the skin while allowing room for movement. His fingertips inevitably touched the warm skin of Shanks' neck and his pulsing carotid artery, each touch sending a faint electric current through him.
A soft "click" sounded as the metal buckle fastened securely at the back of Shanks' neck. The warm texture of the leather settled against his skin, bringing a moment of coolness, quickly warmed by his body heat.
Shanks immediately let out a long, satisfied sigh. The sound resonated from deep within his chest, carrying a sense of complete relaxation and immense joy. He closed his eyes, his lashes casting fine shadows, the corners of his mouth lifting uncontrollably, as if he had received the most precious treasure in the world.
Law's fingers still rested on the collar, clearly feeling the movement of Shanks' Adam's apple beneath the leather and the strong, rhythmic pulse of his carotid artery. He stared, mesmerized, at Shanks' expression-that unguarded, pure happiness washed away the last shred of doubt in his heart like a warm current.
The next moment, Shanks' eyes snapped open, their red brilliance dazzling. They churned with even more warmth, dependence, and a devotion bordering on reverence than usual. He didn't speak. He just extended his arms and, with a gentle yet irresistible force, pulled Law completely into his embrace, holding him tight.
His face buried itself deep in Law's neck, his scorching breath spraying against the sensitive skin, sending shivers down Law's spine. Law could feel every muscle in his body relaxing, yet with a strange tension-the natural result of overwhelming emotion.
"Law..." Shanks' voice was muffled against Law's shoulder, trembling slightly, thick with an indescribable joy. "Yours... here." He lifted one hand, groping for Law's hand still resting on the collar, guiding Law's fingers to grip the leather tighter. "Law's. Only Law's."
His tone held no trace of joke or teasing, only a profoundly serious declaration and satisfaction. Law's heart felt gently squeezed by a warm hand, aching and swelling, almost melting. He held Shanks' hand in return, his other arm circling Shanks' bare, warm back, gently patting. Under his palm were firm, sleek muscle lines, smooth and elastic skin, now slightly hot with his master's excitement.
"Yes." Law responded softly, his voice a little hoarse. "Yours."
Shanks, receiving this response, let out a joyful whimper, like a big dog finally receiving confirmation from its owner. He started nuzzling his cheek and nose against Law's neck and collarbone, his movements gentle but possessive, over and over, as if wanting to completely cover every inch of skin with his own scent, to remark it more deeply. His lips occasionally brushed against Law's skin, leaving warm, damp trails. With his upper body bare, the scorching heat of his chest transmitted through Law's clothes without any barrier, their bodies pressed closely together.
Law found it ticklish, the sensitive skin on his neck prickling, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he tilted his head back slightly, making it easier for Shanks, his fingers threading through Shanks' soft red hair, unconsciously stroking. He could smell Shanks' familiar, warm, sunny scent, now mixed with the faint smell of leather, creating a strangely harmonious blend. His other hand slid from Shanks' back to his waist, feeling the powerful lines there.
"Cool... but feels so good." Shanks mumbled while nuzzling, evaluating the collar, "Feels here... like Law is always holding me." His arms tightened, pressing their chests even closer, leaving no space between them.
Law's heart melted completely. He turned his head, pressing his lips to Shanks' temple in a gentle kiss. "Glad you like it."
Shanks' response was a tighter hug and even more vigorous nuzzling. He practically hung onto Law, pulling them both back a few steps until they tumbled onto the soft carpet together. Shanks took the opportunity to hold Law in his arms, letting him sit back against his bare chest. The warmth of his skin pressed directly against Law, letting him clearly feel the contours and heat of Shanks' chest and abdominal muscles, and their rhythm rising and falling with each breath. The back of the collar, with Shanks' movements, gently rubbed against the skin on Law's nape, a constant, subtle reminder. Shanks' arms wrapped around Law's waist from behind, his chin resting on Law's shoulder, his cheek against Law's neck.
"Law..." Shanks' voice was right by Law's ear, warm breath brushing his earlobe. "Feel it."
He took Law's hand and guided it to the collar around his own neck, then moved Law's hand slowly along the collar's outline, caressing it. The leather was warm, the metal buckle cool, and beneath it all, Shanks' warm, pulsing veins and taut yet relaxed muscles. Because he was bare-chested, Law could more intuitively see and feel how the collar fit his slender neck, how it slid slightly when he spoke or swallowed.
"Here, Law fastened it." Shanks murmured, his voice carrying a subtle, excited tremor. "Here, Law's name is." He guided Law's fingers to touch the engraved letters on the inside.
Law's fingertips traced the indentation of "Law". An unprecedented, powerful sense of possession and protectiveness surged within him. He turned sideways, looking at Shanks in the dim lamplight. Shanks looked back, his red eyes shimmering, filled with complete trust and unguarded love. The collar accentuated the long, elegant lines of his neck, and somehow added a unique aesthetic of wildness tamed. His bare upper body, with its clearly defined muscles, was bathed in a warm halo under the light, yet now he was utterly docile, allowing Law's gaze to roam freely.
Law couldn't hold back anymore. He cupped Shanks' face and kissed him deeply.
This kiss carried a different meaning than before. It wasn't just about intimacy or passion; it was filled with confirmation, marking, and possession. Law's tongue eagerly explored, sweeping across every part of Shanks' mouth, as if claiming ownership. His hands weren't idle either; one remained on the collar, feeling the leather and the pulse beneath, the other slid over Shanks' bare shoulder, down the line of his arm, feeling the fullness and strength of his muscles, finally resting on his firm waist, pressing and kneading with some force, eliciting a muffled, pleasured groan from Shanks.
Shanks softened instantly. He opened himself up completely, letting Law's tongue explore and even actively responding, small, pleased sounds humming in his throat. His arms held Law's waist tightly, his body trembling slightly-not from fear, but from overwhelming excitement and happiness. His bare chest rose and fell more rapidly with his accelerated breathing, his skin beginning to flush a faint pink.
When the kiss finally ended, both were breathing heavily. Shanks' lips were slightly swollen from the kissing, his gaze hazy. He leaned against Law like a puddle of water, forehead against Law's, noses rubbing intimately. The collar rose and fell gently with his quickened breaths.
"Law..." he called, his voice soft and clingy, "Touch me more... like it when Law touches here." He took Law's hand, not just placing it on the collar, but guiding it over his collarbone, his chest, finally stopping over his heart. Under his palm were the firm, warm pectorals and the wildly pounding heart.
Law's heart raced. His fingertips touched the collar again, this time with even more tenderness and affection. He started from the buckle, slowly stroking along the curve of the leather, feeling Shanks' skin temperature and muscle texture, occasionally pressing the engraved letters with his fingertip. Every time he touched the engraving, Shanks would squint his eyes in pleasure, purring contentedly, even unconsciously lifting his neck slightly to facilitate Law's touch. Meanwhile, Law's other hand continued its exploration over Shanks' bare upper body, from the broad shoulders and back to the narrow waist and abdomen, feeling the elasticity and warmth of every inch of skin, like surveying and confirming his territory.
"You like it this much?" Law asked softly, his voice carrying a huskiness and doting he himself hadn't noticed.
"Of course!" Shanks nodded, like a cat being petted to its limit, his body relaxing further into Law because of his touch. "Because... it's from Law. Proof that I'm Law's." He looked up at Law, his eyes clear and serious, yet also hazy with rising desire, "Before... although I knew Law liked me too, sometimes I still felt... uneasy. Afraid I'm too clingy, afraid Law finds me annoying, afraid one day Law won't want me anymore..." His voice dropped, carrying a rare vulnerability, his body curling slightly.
Law's heart clenched painfully. He remembered those displays of unease from Shanks when he was preparing the chocolate and neglecting him. So this unease had never really disappeared, just been masked by Shanks' smiles and clinginess.
"But with this," Shanks touched the collar, his face lighting up again with that incredibly bright smile, dispelling all shadows, now mixed with his aroused state, looking particularly captivating, "it feels like Law is always holding me, telling me 'You're mine'. Then I'm not scared anymore. Law can pull me back anytime, tell me what to do. I know I'm needed, I'm held tight." As he spoke, he actively pressed Law's hand against his chest, letting him feel the racing heart, "Here, is Law's too."
This frank and profound confession, mixed with the intimacy of their skin contact and the unique psychological implication of the collar, nearly consumed Law's remaining reason. He lowered his head and gently kissed the leather of the collar, right next to the engraved "Law". Then, his kisses moved along the collar's edge, slowly to Shanks' collarbone, then to his bare chest, finally stopping over his heart, kissing it deeply.
He looked up at Shanks, whose face was already flushed with arousal and anticipation, and spoke each word with crystal clarity:
"Shanks, you will always be my most important person. Not a bother, not a burden, but someone I willingly want to take care of, want to possess, want to hold onto tightly. This collar isn't some restraint; it's my promise to you-you are mine, and I, am forever yours."
Shanks' eyes widened instantly, quickly filling with moisture, then large teardrops rolled down uncontrollably, sliding over his flushed cheeks and neck, dripping onto the collar's leather. But his face was smiling, beaming radiantly, as if he'd finally gotten the answer he most longed for, his body trembling slightly with emotion and arousal.
"Law!" He hugged Law tightly again, his bare upper body pressing firmly against Law, tears soaking Law's shirt. But these weren't tears of unease; they were a release of relief, happiness, immense joy, and overwhelming love.
Law hugged him back just as tightly, letting him cry, his fingers repeatedly stroking through his sweat-dampened hair, the collar around his neck, and his bare, smooth, burning back, silently comforting, and also igniting deeper flames.
After a long while, Shanks' emotions gradually settled, but his physical response grew even more pronounced. He looked up, eyes red, nose also red, but his smile was as pure as a child's, yet carried the sexuality of an adult male. He leaned in, pressing a kiss on Law's lips that was wet with tears, incredibly gentle, yet gradually deepening.
"Law, I love you." he said, voice still a little nasal, but resolute.
"I love you too, Shanks." Law responded, kissing the corner of his eye, then actively deepening the kiss, his hands exploring the waistband of Shanks' pants.
The rest of the time, they mingled gently yet passionately on the carpet. The collar stayed around Shanks' neck, the leather swaying and rubbing slightly with his movements and breaths, making faint sounds, becoming the most unique and private soundtrack of their intimacy. Shanks was more docile and devoted than ever, constantly kissing and licking, also guiding Law's hands to touch the collar, as if it gave him double the pleasure and reassurance. Law was also unprecedented in his immersion in this absolute sense of possession and Shanks' complete surrender. The collar's presence wasn't a barrier, but a catalyst, pushing both their emotions and desires to new heights.
When everything calmed down, Shanks, soaked in sweat, lay contentedly in Law's arms, his cheek against Law's chest, his fingers unconsciously tracing the collar's edge. Law's hand rested on his sweat-dampened back, the other gently playing with the collar, both immersed in the post-passion languor and immense satisfaction.
"Law..." Shanks' voice was husky with afterglow and heavy with sleep.
"What?"
"Tomorrow morning... wear it..." he mumbled, then fell into a deep sleep.
Law looked at his peaceful sleeping face, the collar around his neck, looking even warmer and glossier under the mixed effects of sweat and other fluids, intertwined with the marks he had left. He lowered his head and kissed the collar one last time.
"Okay." he agreed softly, and closed his eyes.
Moonlight gently enveloped the two sleeping embraced, and the dark brown collar symbolizing love and belonging that connected them. This night was especially deep and sweet.
The next morning, Law woke to a peculiar sensation-warm breath on his neck, soft hair tickling his collarbone, and most distinctly, the feeling of a smooth, scorching, muscular chest pressed against his back, and the clear presence of the warm leather collar against his own nape.
He opened his eyes groggily. Morning light filtered through the curtain gaps, illuminating the bedroom. Shanks was holding him tightly from behind, limbs tangled like vines, sleeping soundly. Law could feel that Shanks wasn't wearing a shirt, and the collar was still securely around his neck, the leather pressing against Law's own nape.
Law moved slightly, trying to turn over, and Shanks immediately tightened his arms in his sleep, mumbling vaguely: "Law... don't leave..." His face was buried in Law's nape, his lips unconsciously pressing against the skin there.
Law's heart melted. He stopped moving, letting Shanks hold him, his fingers gently resting on the arm wrapped around his waist. He could feel Shanks' steady breathing and heartbeat, and the slight rise and fall of the collar leather with each breath. This feeling of being tightly wrapped, as if fused together, brought back the exhaustion and satisfaction of the previous night, yet also brought a strange sense of peace.
After a while, Shanks' eyelashes fluttered, and he slowly opened his eyes. His gaze was first a little confused, then focused on Law's nearby profile, his red eyes instantly lighting up like morning stars.
"Good morning, my little doctor." His voice was husky with sleep as he leaned in to plant a wet good morning kiss behind Law's ear. The collar moved with him, gently rubbing against Law's skin.
"Morning." Law turned his head to meet his sparkling eyes. "Sleep well?"
"... especially well." Shanks nuzzled contentedly against Law's neck, then loosened his arms slightly so Law could turn and face him. In the morning light, his bare upper body was completely visible, the smooth lines of his muscles looking exceptionally beautiful in the soft light. And that dark brown collar was conspicuously wrapped around his slender neck, the leather's sheen contrasting with the warm tones of his skin, carrying an indescribable, wild yet tamed sensuality.
Shanks seemed completely unaware, or rather, didn't care at all about being shirtless. His attention was entirely on Law, and on Law's gaze falling on his collar.
"Law, look, it's still on." Shanks tilted his head back slightly, as if displaying a prestigious medal, letting the collar be seen more clearly, his fingers gently touching the engraved inside. "A bit damp from sweat, but feels even more fitting now." His tone carried a hint of smugness and satisfaction.
Law's gaze involuntarily traced the collar, then slid down to his bare chest, his firm abs... his cheeks warming slightly. He reached out, his fingertips stroking the collar, feeling the warm, smooth texture of the leather warmed by body heat and sweat. "Still on." he murmured, his fingertips inadvertently brushing the skin just below Shanks' collarbone.
Shanks immediately squinted in pleasure, a purring sound in his throat, like a big cat being scratched in its favorite spot. He grabbed Law's hand and pressed it against his chest, letting Law feel his steady, strong heartbeat. "Here, beating fast, because waking up and seeing Law." He grinned, then suddenly remembered something, his eyes brightening further, "Law, let's have breakfast like this, okay?"
"Like this?" Law blinked, his gaze sweeping over Shanks' bare upper body and the conspicuous collar. "...Without clothes?"
"YES!" Shanks nodded vigorously, his expression serious yet pleading, "Anyway, it's just us and Shamrock at home. Shamrock won't mind. And..." He leaned closer, his nose rubbing against Law's, his voice dropping, coaxing, "I want Law to always see... that I'm yours. All of me." He guided Law's hand, from the collar down his chest, his waist, stopping at the waistband of his pants, the implication clear.
Law's face flushed crimson. The suggestion was too bold, especially in front of Shamrock. But looking at Shanks' eyes, filled with anticipation and pure dependence, feeling the warm, smooth skin and the leather of the collar under his palm, he couldn't bring himself to refuse. And... in some hidden corner of his heart, this suggestion, full of possessiveness and declaration, seemed to quietly ignite something.
He took a deep breath, avoiding Shanks' too-intense gaze, and mumbled a vague "Okay."
Shanks, as if given a royal decree, cheered and leaped out of bed. There he stood, his strong upper body bare, only wearing loose lounge pants and the collar, stretching luxuriously in the morning light. His muscles stretched with the movement, full of strength and a relaxed, lazy sensuality. The collar slid slightly against his collarbone with the motion.
Law sat up, watching him, his heartbeat a little erratic. He looked away and started getting dressed, but his peripheral vision kept drifting back to Shanks.
During their morning routine, Shanks was exceptionally clingy. He insisted on squeezing beside Law while brushing their teeth, his arm occasionally rubbing against Law, the collar sometimes bumping Law's shoulder. While washing his face, he deliberately splashed water onto Law, then laughed and rubbed his wet face against Law's, smearing water and the fresh scent of shaving cream everywhere. Throughout it all, his bare upper body and the collar around his neck were strikingly prominent under the bright bathroom lights.
As they walked out of the bedroom, Law could already hear the sizzle of frying eggs from the kitchen-Shamrock was making his own breakfast.
Law's steps faltered almost imperceptibly. Shanks didn't care at all. He naturally put his arm around Law's waist and guided him towards the dining area.
Shamrock was standing by the stove in his impeccably neat dark loungewear. Hearing footsteps, he turned his head, his calm red gaze sweeping over them. His eyes rested on Shanks' bare upper body and the collar for about a second, his expression unchanged, as if this were the most ordinary sight. Then, he nodded almost imperceptibly at Law, his gaze returning to the frying pan, his tone flat: "Morning. Coffee's in the pot, bread's in the oven. There's some for you too."
Law's ears warmed slightly, but Shamrock's excessively normal reaction eased his tension a little. He murmured a greeting, "Morning, Sham."
"Morning, Shammy!" Shanks greeted cheerfully. He released Law, hummed a tune as he walked to the coffee pot, poured a cup for Law first, then one for himself. As he poured, the muscles in his back stretched, the collar standing out prominently on his neck. He carried the two cups back to the table, placed one in front of Law, and sat down right next to him. His bare arm naturally pressed against Law's pajama-clad arm, the warm, firm touch transmitting through the thin fabric.
Shamrock brought his own egg and coffee, sat at the other end of the table, and began eating quietly, his gaze fixed on the tablet in his hand, as if the two people clinging together and the conspicuous collar on the other end of the table didn't exist at all.
Shanks was completely unaffected by his brother's indifference. His attention was entirely on Law. Before even touching his own breakfast, he leaned over to inspect Law's plate.
"Law, your fried egg looks rounder than mine!" he pointed at the perfectly circular sunny-side-up egg on Law's plate, his tone carrying a childish comparison.
"It's the same." Law sighed, cut off a piece, and brought it to Shanks' lips. "Want to try?"
Shanks immediately opened his mouth and took it, his eyes squinting in pleasure as he chewed, the collar rising and falling slightly with each swallow. "Mm! Good! But tastes better when Law feeds me!" After swallowing, he took advantage and rested his chin on Law's free arm, his bare chest pressing against him too, warmth continuously transferring. "More!"
Law fed him another piece. This time, after eating, Shanks didn't pull back immediately. Instead, he turned his head and gave Law's cheek a resounding kiss, leaving a little moisture. "Thanks, little doctor!" His lips brushed against Law's skin, carrying the scent of coffee and egg, and his own warm body heat.
This intimate gesture, with the collar on and his upper body bare, seemed especially straightforward and intimate in the morning light. Law's cheeks burned even more. He could sense Shamrock's possible, though invisible, attention. He reached out, not to push Shanks away, but his fingers unconsciously played with the extra bit of leather strap on Shanks' collar, as if this small gesture could ease his shyness and also more directly touch this "proof of ownership".
Shanks immediately let out a pleased hum, like being scratched in his favorite spot. He even lifted his chest slightly, tightening the collar a little to make it easier for Law to touch, his eyes half-lidded, full of complete trust and enjoyment, his bare upper body seeming to relax even more against Law under his touch.
Throughout breakfast, Shanks was exceptionally clingy and... conspicuous. He hardly stayed properly in his chair, always leaning towards Law. He would ask Law to feed him a piece of jam-covered bread, or spear a sausage from his own plate for Law. Each time he leaned over, his bare shoulders, arms, and chest would move within Law's sight, the collar swaying slightly with a faint leathery sound. He would also occasionally rub his cheek against Law's shoulder, or play with Law's free hand. Once, he even pulled Law's hand over and pressed it directly against his firm abs, letting Law feel the vibrations as he laughed.
At first, Law felt extremely awkward, especially with Shamrock present. But Shanks was so natural, and Shamrock was so calm-he even finished his coffee and stood up to wash his own dishes without changing expression while Shanks was clinging again. Gradually, Law relaxed, infected by Shanks' unreserved, primally attractive intimacy. He started indulging Shanks' clinginess, even occasionally reaching out, not to push him away, but to gently stroke along the lines of Shanks' bare back, or circle his finger around the collar's strap, or, when Shanks offered him food again, open his mouth and take it, his tongue accidentally brushing Shanks' fingertips.
Every time Law responded with these subtle actions, Shanks' eyes would light up like he'd received the best reward, making pleased little sounds in his throat like a pampered big dog, and would cling even more, almost trying to melt himself into Law's arms. The warmth of his bare skin, the feel of the collar's leather, mixed with his clean, warm scent, firmly enveloped Law.
By the end of breakfast, the edges of Shanks' collar were glossier from repeatedly rubbing against Law's skin and clothes, and his bare upper body was slightly sheened with a thin layer of sweat, shining healthily in the morning light.
"I'll do the dishes!" Shanks offered actively, standing up to clear the table. Shirtless and collared, he carried the plates towards the kitchen, his movements still light and natural. His broad shoulders and narrow waist traced a smooth silhouette in the morning light, the collar swaying slightly with his steps.
Shamrock had already cleaned his own utensils and was drying his hands with a towel. Seeing Shanks approach, his gaze briefly swept over the striking upper body and collar once more, then shifted to Law following behind. His red eyes calm, he merely stated flatly: "The bread this morning was quite good." He paused, then added, "Lipid intake is recommended to be kept within a reasonable range." His gaze seemed to unintentionally sweep over Shanks' defined abdominal muscles.
Law was momentarily stunned, then realized Shamrock might be using an extremely subtle way to indicate he'd noticed Shanks' state and that "eye-catching" appearance, offering a health suggestion. He nodded somewhat awkwardly: "...Got it."
Shamrock said nothing more, put down the towel, and turned towards his study. Passing Shanks, he didn't stop, just muttered rapidly in a very low voice: "Mind the temperature difference, avoid catching cold." His gaze seemed to flicker over Shanks' bare shoulders and back.
Shanks paused in his washing for a second, then grinned, turning to shout towards Shamrock's retreating back: "Got it, Sham! I'm in great shape!"
Shamrock's figure disappeared behind the study door.
Law stood at the kitchen entrance, watching Shanks hum a tune, shirtless and collared, expertly washing the dishes, water streaming down his strong arms. Sunlight streamed through the window, falling on his skin dotted with water droplets, on his red hair swaying as he hummed, and on that dark brown collar engraved with "Law".
A feeling mixed with love, possession, helplessness, and immense satisfaction filled Law's chest. All of this was so beyond logic, yet so natural and harmonious, as if it were meant to be. In their home, just for the three of them, love could exist and express itself in any form, as long as it was accepted by each other, and that was the warmest kind of normalcy.
Shanks finished the dishes, dried his hands, and turned around. Water droplets slid along his lean waistline into his waistband. He walked over to Law and naturally pressed against him again, his damp yet warm arms encircling Law's waist, chin resting on Law's shoulder, the collar touching Law's collarbone.
"Law..." his breath fanned Law's ear, carrying the faint scent of dish soap and his own warmth.
"What?"
"What do you want for lunch? I'll cook for you later." he asked, his lips nearly touching Law's earlobe.
Law turned his head, looking at the smiling face so close, adorned with the collar, and those red eyes filled with sunlight and love. His golden eyes rippled with gentle, indulgent amusement.
"Anything. Whatever you make."
"No 'anything' allowed!" Shanks protested, rubbing his nose against Law's sensitive neck, "Tell me, my little doctor deserves the most carefully prepared lunch!"
Law laughed, ticklish, dodging slightly: "How about... teriyaki chicken rice bowl?"
"Deal!" Shanks agreed instantly, eyes curving into crescents, "Promise it'll be even better than last time! And I'll add extra sesame seeds you like!" He gave Law's cheek another resounding kiss, leaving a slightly damp mark.
Only then did Shanks contentedly straighten up, ready to go change, the collar tracing a smooth arc in the morning light. He took two steps, then turned back, winking at Law: "Don't forget, the 'regular check-up' tonight when I get home."
Law's cheeks warmed slightly, but his gaze didn't waver, instead carrying a hint of a smile as he nodded.
Shanks hummed a tune contentedly towards the bedroom.
The dining room air was filled with the lingering scent of breakfast, the slight bitterness of coffee, and a sweet, warm aura named "happiness". A new day, amidst the faint sounds of the collar, the clinging interactions, and Shamrock's calm observation, had begun, ordinary yet extraordinary.
Law thought, maybe he should keep an eye out for strong, good-looking leashes in the future... Of course, that was just a fleeting thought. For now, this collar alone was enough to keep his "big dog" happy for a good long while.