꧁ Prfect Illusions ꧂

At first, it was faint. An indistinct sensation. Like the gentle curls of smoke from a cigarette making their way up to a ceiling. Completely shapeless and hard to make out. But as Marco became more conscious, he was able to understand what he felt.

There was a feminine figure standing above him. Flush skin pressed together, hands gliding across subtle curves. It felt like answering a beckon and call, like scratching an itch that he begged to go away, but finally experiencing the ripples of pleasure it sends up the spine.

He wanted to call out, but nothing came of it as he felt a pair of lips crash against his. After a moment, he welcomed them. This soft skin, gentle dark hair, sweet yet intoxicating smell...it was Hazel. And for that reason only did he relax into the feeling of her weight above him, or more precisely on him, as he felt a warm sensation wrap around him. Her hands travelled over his torso, feeling each dip of his stomach and the rise and fall of his chest. Hazel's touch lit his skin on fire, a burning passion building up in his body that he could no longer control. A symphony of desire pulsed through his veins, as if the very essence of his being yearned to meld with hers, entwining in a dance as ancient as time.

Their bodies moved with a synchronicity born from an unspoken understanding, an intimate language that defied the constraints of words. Marco's fingertips, guided by an invisible thread of desire, traced a trail of fire along Hazel's body, committing every delicate curve to his memory.  The sensation was achingly real — the softness of her skin, the warmth that radiated from her very core. Yet, a lingering uncertainty clouded his mind, whispering doubts and questioning the boundaries of this shared ecstasy.

Marco tried grabbing her hips more firmly, but Hazel quickly pushed away his idea of taking control. She grabbed each of his arms, forcing them down onto the bed above him as she leaned forward. She hit a newer, deeper angle, making Marco desperately want to moan, whine or beg even, if that's what he had to do. But instead, he held his tongue, biting down hard on his bottom lip to subdue his voice and letting Hazel have her way with him.

A heat pooled deep within his abdomen, a familiar sensation of overwhelming pleasure as Hazel's moans pushed him over the edge. Everything was perfect. The feeling, the sound, the view of her above him. Marco felt restrained to the bed in the safest way possible. He knew the woman above him would take good care of him, and as their lips met again, he was completely sure of that. Happily, Marco could've stayed in this moment forever, revelling in the feeling of him and Hazel melting into each other. The allure of her presence was too enticing to resist, and yet, a small part of him clung to the question that refused to be silenced. The boundaries between reality and dreams blurred once more, leaving him lost in a world of enchantment and uncertainty.

However, as quickly as the sensation had started, it faded away.

✵✵✵✵

Marco slowly opened his eyes, squinting against the intrusive sunlight streaming through the half-closed blinds. A throbbing headache pounded in his temples, a relentless reminder of the excesses from the previous night. He winced as he sat up, trying to piece together the fragments of his muddled memories. His heart raced as flashes of his dreams flooded his mind. Passionate embraces, whispered promises, and the electrifying touch of Hazel's skin. It felt so vivid, so real, as if the dream had been a stolen glimpse into an alternate reality. Marco's brow furrowed as he struggled to discern between the boundaries of fantasy and the tangible world.

Rubbing his temples, Marco turned his gaze to the side, expecting to find the bed empty. Instead, much to his surprise, he found Hazel sleeping peacefully next to him, her chest rising and falling rhythmically with each breath. She was still dressed in the same provocative outfit Ivankov had made her wear, a clear indication that their night together had not extended beyond the confines of his imagination. Marco let out a deep sigh, grappling with the complexities of his emotions. He couldn't deny the ache in his heart, nor the bittersweet longing that refused to fade. However, he couldn't help the small smile that bent his lips as he gingerly brushed a strand of Hazel's hair from her face, his fingertips lingering on her cheek for a brief moment.

Feeling an inexplicable mix of embarrassment and desire, Marco carefully extricated himself from the bed, trying not to wake Hazel. He needed some space to clear his head and figure out what had triggered such an intense dream. Perhaps it had been merely the result of too much alcohol mixed with the longing he couldn't entirely suppress; or maybe the swinging of her hips in that little black dress, or the confidence she radiated in those stilettos. Marco truly had no idea.

As he stumbled into the kitchen, he searched for a glass of water to alleviate his parched throat. The events of the night seemed to be slipping further away as the morning haze clouded his memory. But deep down, a nagging feeling remained.

Lost in thought, Marco didn't hear Thatch entering the kitchen until he spoke, his voice laced with sarcasm. "Oi, Marco. Feeling okay?" the brunette chuckled.

Startled, he turned to face him, trying to hide the unease he felt. "Yeah, just a bit of a headache, yoi," he replied, forcing a smile.

His brother arched an eyebrow, a smirk on his lips. "Well, then maybe you should take it easy next time. I know resisting certain urges is difficult, but the alcohol didn't make it easier, did it?"

"I wouldn't have to resist anything if you guys weren't such a pain in the ass," Marco retorted without thinking, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

Thatch gasped dramatically at those words, bringing a hand to his chest. "Excuse you? Whatever do you mean?" he asked with a high-pitched voice.

"You know exactly what I mean. You people always get in the way, yoi."

It was at that moment that all Thatch's self-control crumbled and he let out a loud, heartfelt laugh. Marco shook his head but smiled at his brother's antics nonetheless.

"Right. Well, I promise we'll do our very best to leave you two alone from now on. Is that enough to gain your forgiveness?" the brunette asked sarcastically, but with all the intention to keep his word.

"Yeah, yoi. That will do," Marco sighed, giving his brother a defeated look.

"Come on, you picture of misery, let's get ready for work," Thatch added, before making himself and Marco a strong black coffee.

Marco nodded, hoping to be able to turn all those confusing feelings and thoughts off for the day.

✵✵✵✵

In the realm of longing, time bends and twists, teasing with its merciless pace. Each second seemed to be an hour long, as if the night was too shy to come. Hazel tried her best to keep herself busy through the day — bringing Luffy to school, helping out Sabo preparing his law exam, cleaning up Ace's hellish room — nothing seemed to work to speed the clock hands forward.

It was a peculiar cocktail of emotions that surged through the woman's veins — a blend of anxiety, excitement and impatience that ignited her senses. The very thought of Marco, his presence and touch, kindled a fire that burned relentlessly in her core. Her mind became a battleground of lust and restraint, each thought and desire intertwining with the next, fuelling a tension that could not be quelled. The exact moment she completed a task, her mind wandered into forbidden territories, painting vivid scenes of stolen glances, tender caresses, and lips locked in a fervent kiss.

✵✵✵✵

The sun had clocked out way before Marco did that day, it seemed that fate enjoyed making his heart ache by keeping him away from her for the longest time possible. When Marco pulled up in the driveway, the house was already draped in the darkness. All lights were off...except for one.

As quiet and nimble as a thief, Marco made his way inside. He then quickly walked to the kitchen, an annoyed expression on his face as he mentally cursed his brothers for wasting electricity. As he reached the doorway, however, he froze.
Hazel sat on the counter, a mug in her hands — warm milk with honey, no doubt. Her hair was a mess and she was in a simple and comfortable attire, wearing one of his shirts and a pair of sweatpants, but to Marco, she still looked like a goddess.

"Hazel," Marco called her, his voice low and husky, "What are you still doing up, yoi?"

Hazel lifted her gaze, her eyes finding his. "I was waiting for you," she murmured.

In an instant, Marco could feel his mouth become dryer than the Sahara. He took a few steps towards her, his heart pounding in his chest. He cleared his throat before speaking again. "About last night...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have drunk that much."

"It's okay," she replied, her voice just above a whisper. "I understand. Things happen."

Encouraged by the small smile on her lips, Marco walked even closer, until he stood directly in front of her. He could feel the heat radiating from her body, and he knew he couldn't resist any longer. He reached out and gently took the cup of warm milk from her hands, setting it aside. His hand lingered, his fingers lightly brushing against hers. Then without a hint of warning, he brought a hand to her cheek, caressing it with his thumb. Their eyes locked, and time seemed to slow. He didn't have his usual bored expression, instead, he looked at her with heavy eyes, laced deeply with lust.

"I can't deny how much I want you, Hazel," Marco murmured, never breaking eye contact.

Her breath hitched at his words. She leaned in slightly, inviting him closer. "Then don't," she whispered back.

In one swift motion, Marco closed the gap between them, capturing her lips as his hands found their way to her waist to pull her closer. His kiss was sweet and tender, but also passionate and daring; it had a sort of wilderness to it, as if he was losing control of himself, falling prey to his desire. Marco savoured every inch of her mouth with an insatiable hunger, his grip on her hips unexpectedly tight, ferociously possessive, as if to show her she was his and his alone.

Hazel kissed him back with equal fervour, bringing her hands up to his soft, blond hair and pulling him closer. She instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist, pressing her body against his as a familiar heat pooled in her abdomen.

Marco had wanted to take things slow, to savour every moment with her, but he couldn't ignore his growing hunger. He moved his lips to her neck, to kiss and nibble every inch of it, sending a cascade of shivers down her spine. He felt her hands travel down his shoulders, gripping him tightly as soft moans escaped her lips. He found the sound to be even more beautiful and addictive than in his dreams, he yearned to hear more of it. He started tracing the contours of her body, his touch both gentle and possessive as he explored every curve and dip. But it wasn't enough. His fingers craved her skin.

It was a moment they both had longed for, a moment they both had yearned for, and as fate seemed to want, a moment that didn't last long. A series of muffled steps brought them back to reality, together with the sudden realisation that they weren't alone anymore.

"Sanji...I'm hungry..." a sleepwalking Luffy murmured while entering the kitchen, totally unaware of what he was walking into.

Hearing his younger brother's voice, Marco jumped in surprise, bumping against one of the cupboards above him. "I'm killing him," he muttered under his breath while massaging his head and glaring at Hazel, who was doing her best not to laugh.

"Don't blame Luffy just because you are so freakishly tall," she whispered back with a teasing tone.

Marco almost growled in response. "That's not why I'm going to kill him, yoi."

Hazel shook her head and gave him a quick peck on the lips. Then, under his stunned gaze, she got down from the counter and sauntered her hips to the fridge. She picked up one of the fried chicken legs that Thatch kept as emergency food and carefully put it in Luffy's hand. The boy instinctively started eating it, not bothering to wake up.

"I'll bring him back to bed. We don't want him wandering outside on the streets like last time," Hazel whispered as she gently grabbed Luffy's shoulders to lead him to his room.

Marco sighed while leaning back against the counter, his hand clutching the marble so hard he thought he could break it. Nonetheless, he nodded, knowing how dangerous his brother could be for himself and others in this state. He watched them leave, cursing under his breath. He was upset at himself more than he was at Luffy; the boy didn't even know what he was doing after all. And as a grown man, Marco should have been able to control himself, instead, he allowed his emotions to get the best of him. Even now, all he wanted to do was to run upstairs, snatch Hazel away from Luffy's room, throw her on his bed and make her his. He would have chained her to that bed if he just could have, and made her moan his name over and over again, until he had no more strengt left in his body to satisfy her. How did I get to this point? he asked himself, ashamed of his own thoughts.

Author Space

Hello everyone! I'm so sorry it took me this long to release this chapter. I know my uploading schedule has been quite slow lately, but I promise I'll pick up the pace andthe next chapters will be out soon!

Until next time,
Lis