"Kouya," Shanks murmured drunkenly, his voice muffled as he nestled his face into the warm curve of my neck. His strong arm wrapped tightly around me, creating a cocoon of intimacy as we lay together on the bed. "Can I kiss you?" he whispered softly, his breath warm against my ear. A shiver coursed through me, igniting a blush that crept across my cheeks. I could feel the solid press of his chest against my back, heightening my awareness of the heat radiating between us as something distinctly firm brushed gently against me from behind. "Just a kiss." I felt his lips press lightly against my ear, making me tingle all over.
"Okay," I whispered back, feeling the rapid thump of my heart resonate throughout my entire body. Today was Shanks's "birthday"—the day he was found in a chest and brought aboard the ship of the Roger Pirates —but it was celebrated as if it were his true birthday. We had thrown a raucous party at the tavern in Nanohana, where laughter mingled with the clinking of mugs as the guys drank themselves into a merry haze. As the tavern closed its doors for the night, we continued the festivities on the ship deck, the salty sea breeze brushing against our skin as we reveled beneath the stars.
I had finally managed to coax Shanks away from the chaos and into the warmth of the bath, determined to rid him of the stench of alcohol and help him find the comfort of our bed instead of sprawling out on the cold, wooden floor.
At my soft response, Shanks's entire body froze, his playful nuzzling abruptly halted in shock. I couldn't help but chuckle lightly as I turned to face him, his previously drunken gaze replaced by an intense focus, as if he were trying to decipher a riddle only the two of us shared.
"Are you sure?" Shanks asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes plumbing the depths of my soul like the vast, uncharted ocean.
"Yeah." I nodded, certainty swelling within me. I knew that the depth of my affection for him might not rival his feelings for me, but after countless moments spent together, I couldn't envision my life with anyone but Shanks. Although the thought of taking this leap towards intimacy felt daunting, I didn't think I would mind exploring that path with him.
This wasn't a decision I was taking lightly; I had deliberated on how far I might be willing to go with Shanks. He had shown me a patience that seemed to stretch infinitely, always respecting my boundaries. He often brushed his lips against my neck, my ear, or my cheek, a teasing warmth that made my breath hitch, yet he never dared to press his lips against mine. When desire would make him tense, he would discreetly handle his needs in private, letting my name slip from his lips in a hushed reverie that left me both intrigued and shyly aware of the unspoken tension between us.
"If you don't feel comfortable, tell me to stop. If you can't speak, then hit me." Shanks's expression mixed with an unparalleled amount of gentleness, but a dark glint of desire slipped through.
"Yeah." I nodded, tilting my head slightly to give him better access. My gaze locked onto Shanks as he inched forward, an almost electric anticipation coursing through me. Suddenly, I jerked myself forward, our lips colliding with a surprising force that sent a jolt of pain through me. "Ow," I muttered, rubbing my lips gently.
"Sweetheart, I know I said you could hit me to stop, but I didn't mean like that," Shanks chuckled softly, pressing his forehead against mine, our shared laughter lingering in the air.
"Sorry," I grunted, a hint of embarrassment creeping in. "Try again?" I asked, my voice carried a slight desire that I didn't really know I had.
"Of course, Sweetheart." A playful smile danced across his lips as he leaned in again, this time his lips brushing against mine with a gentleness that took me by surprise. It wasn't quite the explosion of fireworks or the fluttering of butterflies that I had read about in romance novels; rather, it was a strange mix of warmth and softness, a little chapped but undeniably inviting. I felt an unexpected tension in my body as I sensed his tongue near my lips. He paused, noticing my sudden stiffness, and slowly pulled back, a look of concern flickering across his face.
I didn't realize I had closed my eyes until I blinked them open, feeling slightly dazed and confused at my own reaction. "Sweetheart, are you uncomfortable?" he asked, his tone gentle and concerned.
"I don't know," I admitted, struggling to find the right words. The realization hit me that the sensation of his tongue was likely part of this so-called French kiss I had read about, leaving me both intrigued and unsure. "Again?" I asked, my voice a mix of curiosity and disbelief.
"If you wish," Shanks replied, a sly smile creeping across his face as he leaned back in, his tongue brushing against his lips in anticipation.
"Yeah," I whispered, tilting my head upward to meet his gaze. My lips parted ever so slightly, granting him access as a warm rush of anticipation coursed through me. When our lips pressed together once more, I felt a flutter in my chest, a sensation I struggled to put into words. Time seemed to stand still as our mouths melded together, and I could sense his realization that my lips remained parted, inviting him in.
His tongue ventured forth, exploring with a gentle curiosity that made my breath hitch. Unsure of what to do next, I surrendered to the moment, letting Shanks take the lead. I allowed him the freedom to be as whimsical or dominant as he wished, completely lost in the intoxicating rhythm of this new experience.
As our lips finally separated, I found myself breathless, struggling to catch my breath in the aftermath of our passionate kiss. The intensity of the moment had left me dizzy, and the heat between us only intensified when I felt Shanks' lower body press against mine. It ignited a surprising response deep within me, stirring sensations that were both exhilarating and unfamiliar.
I had never experienced sexual intimacy with another person, though I was familiar with various aspects of sex, primarily gleaned from school sex education classes and the novels I read. My own desires were surprisingly minimal, almost nonexistent. Even after waking as a man, the desire often associated with such a change never materialized. Instead, my dreams remained rather dry.
"I'm quite glad to know I make you this stirred up, Sweetheart," Shanks chuckled, his voice warm and inviting, sending a thrill through me. He closed the distance between us, rubbing our lower bodies together, and a wave of shivers cascaded over my entire form. "Can I touch you?" he asked, his gaze intense and slightly mischievous.
Something within me awakened at his words, and without fully understanding why, I nodded, my pulse quickening as I whispered, "Yeah."