Indeed, the Shell Pirates succeeded in what they had come for. They had just overturned a kingdom-not for gold or glory, but to free its people from the merciless rule of a tyrant king. The air of this kind of pirate victory lay in the atmosphere, and this peculiarity filled the throne room like a constant fog.
The elaborately carved throne was then for the mighty captain of the crew, Zadael.
It was almost comically small beside him, its ornately carved armrests creaking under his weight as his broad shoulders wholly obscured its back, like an adult trying to fold themselves into a child's chair. And yet Zadael seemed utterly relaxed. He had set his boots before him on the marble floor, his hands draped idly over the sides of the throne, and it was just another day on the high seas.
"This place," Zadael rumbled, "is not half bad. It does lack somewhat in personal space, though." A rumbling chuckle escaped his chest as he looked on at the faded opulence of the room.
Tessa sat easily on the armrest of the throne, her elven tail swishing about with negligent ease as she watched the surroundings. "I am more surprised that you fit in it at all," she said-a sardonic smile played across her lips. Her whiskers fluttered as she looked up at him. "Shall we call the carpenters to attend it? And perhaps a 'king-sized' throne?"
The captain snorted. "Funny."
"Merely saying," Tessa said, her voice was chipper, but her looks were cutting. She shifted, her talons clicking softly on the varnished wood. "The humans didn't put up much of a fight. Something to consider, isn't it?"
A moment before Zadael could reply, the odd clatter of boots on marble announced the arrival of Bonesaw Bill.
He strode in with a roll of map clutched under one arm, the latter donning a razor-sharp smile that could cut through sails. "Captain," he said with unwanted flamboyance in unrolling the map, "the reports have come in. The people are desperate, salivating for change. They'll follow you into the pits of hell so long as you give them hope."
Zadael snatched up the map and surveyed it long, his deep-set eyes tracing around the borders of the kingdom, the scattered marks of nearby territories. His countenance fell from casual to calculating, and the cogs shifted behind his gaze. "Good," he finally said. "We'll give them what they need-shelter, food, freedom-but they'll give us something in return."
Tessa's head jerked a fraction; curiosity flickered in her eyes. "Which is?
"A future," Zadael said simply. "The Shell Pirates won't be merely a name whispered upon the waves. We'll be a force that none dare cross. A kingdom gives us more than treasure. It gives us stability-ports, supplies, a foothold. With this as our base, we'll have everything we need to stay ahead of the hunt."
The yeasty smell of newly baked bread diffused through the room as Cookie wheeled in his cart loaded with roasted meats and pastry. His voice was a breath of fresh air, like a warm puff of salt air. "And you wouldn't want your crew to go on an empty stomach, now would you, Captain?" he boomed, the laughter that followed loud as the crew started to converge upon the cart.
The jests and guffaws filled the air as pirates of every shape-human, mink, and towering sea giants-filled their bellies. The rafters rang with tales of their pasts, their voices right up to the vaulted ceiling. Even in celebration, however, Tessa had kept her globe upon Zadael: the untouched plate of food set beside his elbow, a certain rigidity of his jaw.
"You have not eaten anything," she said softly, drifting to the throne. Her tail twitched, showing how ill-at-ease she was. "Not even a crumb."
Zadael looked at her, his face betraying nothing. "Just a little off my appetite," he said airily, waving his hand. "Big day, lots to think about.
Tessa squinted at him. "Captain, you cannot run on fumes forever."
He smiled, one of those comforting gestures, but it wasn't honest. "Don't worry about me, Tessa. I have been running on that longer than you know."
Her gaze became focused, a hint of suspicion behind her serenity; from this, she refrained, pounced instead from the armrest to land with feline lightness. "Fine," she said, light, though her tail twitched in a way that spoke volumes of not quite believing him. "But if you faint, I'm taking your hat."
Zadael chuckled, leaving them to disappear into the hall, his face still half visible, twisted in his excitement as he turned back to the map. The room was considerably quieter without the loud discussions of his crew. He lifted himself from the throne, his strides heavy but purposeful, crossing the cool marble floor to a narrower, private room behind the throne room.
The air was stale and heavy inside; dust motes danced delicately in the stale light seeping through the fractured stained glass. On a simple table in the middle of the room sat his object of reflection-a very peculiar fruit. The outer skin was dark gray, with some very curious patterns in purple and gold in an entrancing pattern, seemingly shifting with the tremulations of the lantern's light.
The Devil Fruit.
The Lord of the Skies had granted him its power, guiding him to this very moment. It wasn't a reward but a key-a means to finally transcend the chains of blood and flesh. And in this very place, Zadael gazed at the fruit, his large hand hovering above it.
He had prayed for this and wanted it so badly, not for himself but for his crew, for the great story they would tell. He knew his name would go down in history-not as a person, but as something so much more important.
Zadael calmed himself, his fingers wrapping around the fruit and raising it high. The room seemed to vibrate with the moment.
No turning back now.
Pungent, it was. It burst in his mouth hot and acrid, like a sip of spoiled wine gone to salty brine; near to vomiting, he forced it down, though his whole body clenched in revolt. There was silence in the room as he stepped backward. He clutched at his chest, his face contorting in a grimace. And then it came.
Power surged through him, like a storm bursting its chains. He shuddered, as if he had been struck by lightning; his great body trembled with the sudden flow of life through it. The air around him seemed to distort and ripple and the pressure inside the room rose. He panted, his breathing heavy, as the shift took him and not just his body, but something far more vital, his very being.
Now, where his eyes had been were not eyes at all: a hurricane's center of swirling patterns in shades of green and white. The very air seemed electric, ready to go at his beck and call.
Zadael's crew showed up in the doorway, feeling the power which had brought them here. Silent and utterly aghast, moving one step back automatically. Even Bonesaw Bill who had fought against mights of the sea and braved the blast of cannons appeared ill at ease. Even the sea giants standing guard shrank a little, their tall frames dwarfed by the strong presence their captain showed.
Zadael turned to them, his cape flowing with the strong winds. His voice was like a loud thunder, and seemed to emanate from the heart of the storm. "You all have seen the change." He paused, keeping his Prayer Maul at his side, and the winds that swirled around him began to move much more rapidly. "I have eaten a Devil Fruit, and now, I am able to command the power of the Hurricane!"
The winds surged, sending dust and loose tapestries flying, and his crew stumbled backward, shielding their faces. A stunned silence fell, marked only by scattered whispers: "Impossible…" "He's… he's a devil now."
Bonesaw Bill moved ahead, his face marked with scars showing both wonder and worry. "Cap'n," he said, speaking slowly, "you know what that means. You're cursed. You'll never swim again."
The winds stilled at his words, and Zadael's eyes locked onto him. "I am aware of the cost," he said, his voice was calm. "But no storm will ever hinder us again. With this power, we'll rise above the seas. We'll claim the skies! We'll be unstoppable!"
There was a moment of only wind, soft and uneasy, as if it had waited for just this moment to start causing mischief. Then the crew erupted in cheers: their terror turned to excitement, and their trust in their captain proved to be stronger than the doubts. Ever strong, the Shell Pirates were now nothing more than unstoppable-at least it felt that way to them-with their captain having a hurricane's power in his hands.
The crew finally left the room to rejoice with Zadael remaining behind, near a window. He looked at the fruit core that lay empty; his face did not show even the remotest suggestion of feeling. His crew cheered from the corridors, but he was alone. He had the trust and admiration of his people, but the onus of his choice was his and his alone.
"Captain," a quiet voice spoke, breaking into his reverie. He turned to see Tessa filling the doorway with her lean form, she was back again, walking as silent as a ghost with bright eyes that contrasted with the light. She stopped in the room, crossing her arms. "That fruit… it didn't just come to you. Tell me where you found it."
The winds around him died down to a light breeze with a sigh. "Does it matter?" he asked, his attention back to the window. The Moonlight fell upon his broad shoulders in silver, and in his whirling eyes was the night sky.
"It means something to me," she insisted. "You have risked everything for this power. Why?
There was silence from Zadael for a time. "I found it upon an island," he said at last; his voice was grave. "A place which the world had forgotten. It was… given unto me by something ancient. Something that knew what I could become." Tessa's eyebrow lifted as her tone grew suspicious. "Something? Or someone?
"Enough," he snapped, turning to face her. "We have what we need. Let us not waste our time questioning a blessing when we have an empire to build.
Tessa was looking for the breaks in resolution before she nodded. Still, her face betrayed some of her doubt. "All right," she said-the resignation creeping into her voice-"but don't forget, Captain, that there is a price to pay for power."
With an ease in her gait, she began to go and was brought up short by Zadael's voice.
"Tessa."
She looked over her shoulder, her eyes all-consuming with questions.
He stepped closer to her, and the air around him subtly changed. "I know," he said, his voice low and expressionless. "I know that you have feelings for me."
Tessa's eyes grew even bigger, and she stepped back, her face reaching an all-time high color of pink. "W-what do you mean?" she stuttered out in a shaking voice.
Zadael let out a laugh. The residual power of the Hurricane-Hurricane Fruit flickering subtly in his eyes.
"Do not play the innocent with me, Tessa," he said, his voice was deliberative. "I see the way you look at me when you think I do not see. The way your eyes flash when I am angry. The way your tail twitches every time I approach. Do not think I have not noticed."
Tessa's body became frozen, all muscles tense as if ready for a fight. Yet again, that thought was useless against a scrutiny that had so wholly trapped her already. Just one stride brought him closer, but that one step proved enough to fill the entire room with his form. His towering build and laid-back confidence filled the air, not allowing any straight thought process due to the lack of oxygen.
"You're always talking to me," Zadael continued, his tone softer now. "Checking up on me. Challenging me. Pushing me harder than anyone else." Another step, deliberate and measured. "You don't do that for just anyone."
Tessa's breath hitched. Her fists clenched-of all the reactions she didn't bother hiding. "I… I don't know what you're talking about," she said, though the words sounded hollow. Her ears folded, giving her away.
Zadael tilted his head, a smirk beginning to show. "Liar." His voice was quieter now, intimate, like a secret they both already knew. "But I'll make it easy for you." He closed the remaining distance between them, his hand coming up to her face with surprising gentleness. His thumb brushed her cheek, his touch warm against her fur. "I feel the same way."
Tessa's eyes went wide as she looked for any hint of deception. But what she saw was Sincerity. Or at least something that looked an awful lot like it.
"I…", she started, but it was barely audible. "I do, Captain. But what does it matter?" She was exposed raw and vulnerable that she wasn't ready to show.
"It matters," he said, "because you matter. I've seen how much you care for this crew, how much you've sacrificed. And I care for you, Tessa."
She found herself leaning into his touch despite herself, the firmness of his hand a grounding force as the storm inside of her threatened to carry her away. "Really?"
"Indeed," he replied to her, the other finger settling on her waist. Pulling her close to him. "But let us not dupe ourselves. This is bigger than feelings. Our connection? That's quite different altogether. We are unstoppable when together, strong. You see that too, don't you?"
The century-defining moment hung in time. She felt his heartbeat right against his chest-steady, sure. Words intoxicated her, promising more than just her life and bigger than the two lives combined. She nodded because her voice was nowhere to be found; her heart drummed loudly in her ears.
Yet in the bottom of Zadael's eyes, beyond the earnestness and the brilliance in his expression, lay something different. Cold and calculating. He cared for her; it was real enough, in its fashion. Yet not as it seemed. Love, certainly-not of a form Zadael had cared about. Lust, ambition, a taste for power and for that intoxicating rush when the world bent to one's whim.
Zadael's life had once been so… ordinary, so regular. One Piece had been nothing but a fanciful dream, a means of escaping the dreariness of reality. But now, here? Here, he was someone. Someone powerful. Someone who mattered. And if it meant putting on the face of a lover-to bind Tessa tighter to his cause with sweet words and soft promises-then so it would be.
To Zadael, love wasn't a weakness; it was a tool, a gun. And Tessa? Just another piece in this big design.
But none of that showed on his face. Not as he leaned closer, his lips touch her ear. "You and me, Tessa. We'll change the world."
Tessa felt a rush of excitement, not knowing the sinister undertones of her Captain's words. Not knowing the truth.
Zadael smiled, his hold on her tightened to convey unmistakably that she wasn't going anywhere. Zadael found a good place to sit down, and his bulk folded into the chair with a loud creak that seemed to resound throughout the whole room. Tessa followed his example, her eyes not releasing his, her curiosity tickled by the unspoken strain now filling the air like the scent of an oncoming storm.
He settled back and the chair groaned under him, his long legs splaying out before him as his trousers tugged across his arousal. Tessa's gaze fixed, her eyes wide as she couldn't tear her gaze away. His cock was a living, breathing beast beneath the fabric, so thick and long its head Standing out enough to set her fancy alight; it is a proof of his dominance and masculinity, symbolic of the wild passion she had felt since the very first meeting.
"What are your thoughts on this, Tessa?" Zadael asked in a subdued voice, husky with longing.
Her eyes flared to his. "I think… I think it's wonderful," she managed to whisper, shakily.
"Do you?" he asked, his thumb stroking down the line of his jaw, sending shivers running down her spine. "Prove it."
And without warning, her hands automatically flew to his trouser s. Quaking with anticipation, quaking with fear, somehow her fingers shook out the sash and pulled down his fly in one smooth motion. As the material went down, his erection sprang out: large pulsating evidence of his desire - a sight to make even seasoned pirates envious - it was as much a weapon as any sword or cannon.
It was long and wide, the veins throbbing in its length as if to proclaim that this could be the king of the world, the top swollen like some kind of kingly crown demanding attention. His balls were big and heavy, nestled in a bed of curly, coarse hair which seemed to echo the hair of her head. And smell wafted from him, rich and pungent, muddling her legs.
"Suck it," Zadael said, seeming to vibrate the floor beneath her. Tessa's body reacted on instinct, unfolding onto her knees as if turning hunter, stalking her prey, her eyes locked to what lay before her.
She reached up with small hands that were far too little to wrap around him and hugged him hesitantly. She began to touch him in slow, almost rhythmic motions, with purpose and meaning, her eyes never leaving his face. With each touch, a wave of sensation was sending ripples within his body, and his eyes closed in pure delirium as she traveled up and down his length. His breathing quickened further, and his chest rose and fell with every such breath. It was about time Zadael had a woman pleasuring him. He almost didn't think it was possible thanks to his size but then The Lord of The Skies was with him.
Tessa tilted her head, her dainty pink nose wrinkling as she took in his smell. She licked her lips as her tongue darted out to take a sample of the pre-cum welling from the tip. It tasted salty, sweet, immediately going into the tummy in a flip. She settled her mouth over him, her stretched lips taking him inside. Zadael groaned aloud in pleasure.
"Good girl," Zadael managed, his hand falling onto the back of her head, petting her. Tessa kept her eyes on his, her pupils dilated with desire. She bobbed her head rhythmically, taking a little more of him into her mouth with each movement, the teeth light against his sensitive skin. The smacking noises she made - along with his groans - were the only ones in the silent room.
Overpowered by sensations of power and control, having this powerful captain imprisoned in her mouth-so much so he could crush her with his hand but was subjugated, lying before her-her tail moved rhythmically to the cadence of her attentions, her arousal greater with every successive moment.
"Faster," he ordered, his petting was urging her to move faster, his tone growing more needy as this continued. Tessa felt the slow rise of his control breaking, his excitement building heavier inside her mouth. She felt his completion approach, could tell by the slow tensing of his form, by the irregularity of his breaths.
Her own sexual arousal was building, too, her vagina wet and pounding with need. She dropped her hand down her skirt to find her clitoris while her other arm remained wrapped around the shaft of his penis. She began to masturbate to the rhythm of her bobbing head, her groans muffled by his size. Tessa knew he was close. She sucked harder, the cheeks caving as she took him in deeper, the tongue swirling around his cockhead, teasing the slit. A primal sound escaped Zadael, his hand closing on the armrest of the chair with such force it sent splinters flying out of the wood.
"Tessa," he grated, the word had compulsion. "I'm going to cum." She shone brighter with growing excitement, compulsion to hurry her along, her need driving her to feel his release's warmth. She knew well the tension of his arousal, the turgid veins that betrayed his imminent release. And then, it happened. With a roar that echoed loud across the palace, Zadael reached his climax, spewing forth his semen in heavy, hot streaks.
It sprayed on her face and torso, masking her in the thick, salt-laden liquid.
"Now it's your turn." Zadael's words became an oath, a vow of what was to come. He gazed down upon Tessa, who showed submission. He knew she was ready; her desire evident by the way she twisted beneath his fingers.
With a gentle urging, he bade her rise, her body undulating softly at the prompting. He watched as dew gathered between her thighs, her quim glittering with her own arousal. "Undress," he said replete with powerful command. Tessa didn't demur; her lithe fingers moved swiftly to loosen the laces of her bodice to reveal the fullness of her abundant breasts
.
They were large and firm, the dark pink areolas wrinkling in excitement, and her nipples pointed. The garment she wore cascaded to the ground in a fabric puddle that unveiled her firm, rounded posterior. The spectacle spurred an involuntary reaction in Zadael - his arousal, so recently sated, began to build anew. She pivoted to face him. She let her blouse slide from her shoulders. He watched her form, his pinky already wet with her juice.
"You are so beautiful," he whispered, his voice husky. She went right up to him, his intensity making her quivering body shake. Reaching out with her shaking hand, and touching his hand.
Zadael kept his facecard on her while his pinky was at her entrance, so small compared to the width of his huge hand. He slipped it inside. Her vagina wrapped itself around his finger. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and a low moan escaped her lips as he started to pump his finger in and out of her, his movements very slow. "Oh, Captain," she gasped, the word barely a whispered breath. "That feels… incredible."
Zadael watched her closely, very much aware of the power of his fruit, the Hurricane-Hurricane, running inside his body and enhancing his physical prowess. His small pinky was such a minute tool, but he knew exactly where to place it on her for maximum effect. He curled it slightly and hitting that spot inside her, causing her legs to shake.
Tessa squealed in delight as the pinkie of Zadael worked its magic. New, was this for her-a mix of sensations and pressure which built her up to wild ecstasies. The walls of her vagina clamped down around his finger, the muscles palpating in time with the movement.
"You like that, don't you?" Zadael asked, an erudite smile playing about his lips.
Her voice spilled over deep with passion. "More."
Zadael was all too ready to indulge her. He inserted a second finger, stretching her even more. His thumb found her clitoris, and he started applying friction in large, swooping circles, his motions in time with the cadence of his little finger. She was close to orgasm, powerfully feeling the first stirrings of a maelstrom brewing inside her, a storm of pleasure threatening to flood her senses.
"Tell me when," Zadael whispered, as he locked with her look, the weight of his gaze every bit as overwhelming as the wind he could now control. "Tell me when you are ready to cum."
Tessa was breathing in short, sharp gasps now, her chest heaving as she rode the waves of pleasure that crashed through her. She nodded, her face glassy with passion. "Now," she managed to choke out, her voice barely audible. "Please, Captain."
Zadael smiled. "As you would have it," he whispered, renewing the motion of his thumb and pinkie. He felt the tempest rise in her, her muscles constricting, her pussy clamping down on his fingers again. And with one last, hard shove, he pushed her over the edge.
And then suddenly, Tessa was there-her body shuddering with quakes of delight. She wailed, her nails clawing into his palm as she rode the crest, her hips bucking at his hand. Her juices were flowing copiously, dripping off his hand onto the ground, a testimony to the strength of her orgasm. As the storm inside of her finally subsided, Zadael drew his fingers back, the satisfied watch as she panted and trembled before him. "Go clean up," he ordered softly. "We wouldn't want anyone finding us like this."
Tessa nodded, still weak-kneed from the depth of her orgasm.
She was turning and almost floating from the room, her body an exciting mix of satisfaction and aftermath. It was like she was in near disbelief of what just transpired, because the balance of power in their relationship had shifted in some way unexpected. Yet, she felt neither used nor degraded; in fact, owned. It was almost as if she'd passed some sort of test with him; like her entrée into the privy council was somehow deeper than respect and fealty.