"2834... 2835... 2836..."
Hah! Hah!
It was late at night once again, and his increasingly boundless physical energy was becoming a source of sheer, agonizing torment for Darian.
It was truly a case of stepping in dog shit: Nami's period hadn't even ended yet, and—lo and behold—Carmen's period had just begun that very afternoon.
Drip! Drip!
Sweat dripped onto the wooden deck as Darian strained to perform rapid-fire handstand push-ups in the moonlight.
Yes, handstand push-ups—the kind where his hands supported his entire body weight on the ground while his legs dangled straight up in the air.
He was forced to use this specific exercise because his "little brother" was simply too unyielding. If he attempted standard push-ups, his torso wouldn't even make it all the way down before his rock-hard erection would slam painfully right into the deck.
Gasping for breath, having already soaked the wood beneath him with his sweat, he was desperately attempting to burn off his surging sexual energy through grueling physical training. However, for Darian's **Outer Path** physiology, this was essentially adding fuel to the fire.
While his exhausting workout in the moment did indeed consume calories, as his training progressed and his body grew stronger, his overall vitality—and consequently, his libido—would only become even more boundless. It was a vicious, escalating cycle.
There was no other choice; for now, this was the only method available to provide some immediate, albeit temporary, relief.
Whoosh!
Having completed a set of three thousand handstand push-ups, a thoroughly exhausted Darian finally flipped backward and collapsed flat onto the deck, his chest heaving.
Lying there beneath a sky full of stars, Darian felt his muscles succumbing to the heavy, burning fatigue of lactic acid—yet his "brother" remained standing as tall and furious as ever.
Glancing down at the conspicuous, throbbing "tent" bulging aggressively beneath his athletic shorts, Darian felt a profound sense of helplessness. His strategy—to use the inverted exercise to divert blood flow from the "head" down below to the actual head on his shoulders—had failed completely.
"It's only been four days!" Darian groaned, dragging a hand down his sweaty face. "In my past life, I was single for over twenty years without any major issues. Yet now—after just four days without release—I feel like I'm going to explode. Is it a case of 'it's hard to go back to frugality after living in luxury,' or are the side effects of this demonic fruit just too potent? If I go too long without Dual Cultivation, the heat simply won't subside."
Darian sighed helplessly into the night air.
Of course, Darian knew how to handle things with his own hands. However, with so many beautiful women right there on the ship, having to resort to self-gratification in a corner felt rather frustrating and humiliatingly undignified for a man of his current power.
After resting for a while, the surging blood and vital energy—stirred up by his recent physical exertion—had finally calmed down slightly. Yet, his member showed absolutely no signs of going soft. It ached with need.
Sighing once more in resignation, Darian stood up. The beast needed to be fed. There were some things he simply had to do, whether he wanted to play the gentleman or not.
On this ship—aside from Nami and Carmen, who were out of commission—there were three other women available to him: Robin, Mikita, and Alvida.
As for the two young girls, Princess Vivi and Marianne (Miss Goldenweek)—leaving aside the fact that they shared a heavily guarded cabin with Nami—Marianne's figure was still entirely that of a child, so Darian had absolutely no desire to touch her. Vivi was untouchable until he saved her country.
Regarding Robin, Darian desired both her body and her heart; he had no intention of taking her by blunt force and ruining the delicate psychological game he was playing with her.
That left the two former syndicate agents and pirates: Alvida and Miss Valentine (Mikita). They, presumably, wouldn't mind if he took a much rougher, more direct approach. They understood the laws of power.
Perhaps it was just a lucky coincidence.
Darian had barely reached the hallway in the lower deck when the door to the two bounty hunters' shared cabin swung open. Alvida—clad in nothing but a string bikini—stepped out into the hall.
Typically, in her days as a pirate captain, Alvida went topless on her own ship, leaving her ample bosom fully exposed to assert dominance. Thus, it was hardly surprising to find her wearing nothing more than two tiny scraps of fabric while sleeping in the sweltering heat of the Grand Line.
Bathed in the pale moonlight streaming down through the skylight above, Alvida froze for a moment as her eyes landed on Darian.
"C-Captain! You...?"
Seeing Darian standing in the narrow hall—his upper body bare, slick with sweat, his lower body surging with the undeniable intensity of an enraged bull, and a dark, predatory impulse he could barely contain radiating from his frame—Alvida was taken aback.
Darian offered no polite verbal response. Instead, he strode forward, closing the distance instantly, and with a swift, rough motion, grasped her soft, heavy breasts with both hands.
Alvida's current appearance was the result of the Smooth-Smooth Fruit, a power that had refined her skin and slimmed her figure to absolute perfection—all without any adverse side effects.
The sensation in his hands was exquisite—firm, elastic, yet incredibly yielding. Thanks to her Devil Fruit, her skin also felt impossibly smooth and silky beneath Darian's rough touch, slipping delightfully against his calloused palms.
Darian's own former appearance in his past life had been merely average; his current god-like good looks and imposing physique were likewise a gift from a Devil Fruit ability. Thus, between Darian and Alvida, there was no room for either to judge the other's superficial vanity.
Caught completely off guard by Darian's sudden, aggressive assault, Alvida was momentarily stunned, gasping softly.
However, as a seasoned pirate captain, Alvida did not react to Darian's crude behavior by screaming in protest or slapping him like some ordinary, blushing maiden.
Instead, a seductive, knowing smile played upon her glossy lips. "I've noticed the hungry way you've been eyeing us these past few days, Captain. You've been pacing like a caged animal. I never expected you'd finally lose your self-control and make a move on me in the hallway!"
Gazing at the flawless face before him—easily an objective nine-out-of-ten—Darian found it utterly impossible to conjure up the disgusting image of Alvida's former, overweight self. Humans, after all, are creatures of sight and touch, and right now, she felt incredible.
Responding directly to Alvida's teasing, Darian squeezed her chest harder. "Isn't this exactly what you wanted when you boarded my ship?"
At that blunt remark, Alvida's pride flared. She slapped away the hands Darian had placed upon her curves. Looking genuinely annoyed, she retorted, "Do you take me for some desperate, cheap whore who just drops to her knees in the hallway? I am the most beautiful woman on the sea. If you want me, you have to earn it properly. Get out of my way—I'm heading to the washroom."
With that, Alvida brushed past him, her bare shoulder bumping his chest, swaying her shapely, bikini-clad hips deliberately as she made her way down the hall toward the restroom.
She appeared calm and composed, but in reality, Alvida was anything but. It was obvious that Darian was dead serious this time, and she could feel her heart pounding furiously in her chest, a mix of genuine fear and intense arousal.
In her days as a pirate captain, even though her crew consisted entirely of ruthless men, none had ever dared to get this close to her or touch her so brazenly—a testament to both her formidable, violent strength and her striking beauty. To be handled so effortlessly by Darian was a massive shock to her ego.
A mere thin strip of fabric traced the deep valley between her two voluptuous curves. Watching the seductive, taunting sway of her firm, shapely assets as she walked away, Darian's breathing grew heavier still.
He didn't chase her. He simply turned his head and glanced through the open door she had just stepped out of.
Inside the dark cabin, he saw Miss Valentine (Mikita)—clad in a sheer, yellow silk nightgown—lying fast asleep on the large mattress.
Unlike Carmen and Robin, Mikita and Alvida shared a single, large bed in their cabin, rather than having one each as the others did.
Because Alvida had gotten up during the night, the covers had been thrown back. Mikita, too, was sleeping restlessly in the heat, leaving one of her long, pale legs and a slender arm exposed to the cool night air. Her nightgown had ridden up past her thighs.
The small, brass lamp on the bedside table cast a faint, warm orange glow over her form, making her appear exceptionally vulnerable and alluring.
Having suppressed his violent desires for days—and now that his blood was fully boiling—how could Darian possibly hold back any longer?
He strode into the cabin, swept the remaining covers off the bed in a single, rough motion, and pressed his heavy, sweat-slicked body down upon Mikita.
As a professional Baroque Works Officer Agent, Mikita's trade consisted of two things: killing targets and making money.
She had previously operated under the banner of Crocodile, but just a few days prior, she had been soundly defeated by Darian and forcibly conscripted into his ranks to save her own life. To her, it was merely a matter of switching allegiance from one powerful organization to another.
In this brutal, unvarnished world of the Grand Line, the weak submit to the strong, and the strong lay claim to everything the weak possess.
Living a life constantly teetering on the edge of death—a life of "licking blood from the blade"—she and her associates had followed a simple, ruthless rule: whenever they went out to recruit new members, if a prospect refused their offer, they simply killed them.
The reason nothing romantic had happened to her before was simply that her previous male colleagues (like Mr. 5) weren't as powerful or intimidating as she was. Now that she had fallen into Darian's hands—a man who radiated absolute, overwhelming power—Mikita was, of course, fully prepared to offer herself up to secure her position and safety.
After all, hadn't she seen what happened? When the attempt to recruit Darian failed and they turned against him, Mr. 5 was instantly fried, captured, and then accidentally blew himself up!
For Mikita, the mere fact that she was still alive, eating good food, and able to enjoy life on this ship was more than enough. She had actually been somewhat surprised that Darian had held off for so long over the past few days, assuming he would have claimed her the first night.
Deep in her slumber, Mikita was roused by a strange, heavy sensation of discomfort and heat pressing down on her chest and hips.
She opened her eyes groggily, only to find a pair of dark, predatory eyes staring right back at her in the dim orange light.
Startled, she gasped, just about to scream for help, when a large, rough hand clamped firmly over her mouth, muffling the sound abruptly.
Mmph! Mmph! Mmph!
Terrified, Mikita struggled wildly for a moment, her legs kicking out. However, the moment her eyes adjusted and she recognized the imposing silhouette pinning her down as Darian, her violent resistance quickly melted away into compliant submission.
Mikita's initial, panicked struggles had provided Darian with a unique, dominant thrill, though her physical strength was, of course, absolutely no match for his enhanced muscles.
Pinning both of Mikita's wrists above her head with one of his hands, Darian removed his hand from her mouth. He expertly parted her lips and began to fiercely devour the taste of her mouth.
Darian roughly teased her tongue—which felt surprisingly cool to the touch. Mikita had a deep, well-known fondness for lemons; even her saliva carried a distinct, sharp citrusy tang, making Darian feel as though he were sipping on a spiked, lemon-flavored liquor.
After a passionate, bruising tangle of tongues that left Mikita gasping for breath and arching her back, Darian finally released her lips.
Darian's body now constantly exuded a potent, intoxicating scent of male pheromones due to his **Outer Path** fruit. Following their intimate, breathless exchange, Mikita began to feel its overwhelming effects; her cheeks flushed a deep, feverish crimson, her eyes glazing over slightly.
Having just finished a grueling training session on the deck—and sweating profusely in the process—Darian was clad in nothing but a pair of athletic shorts.
Catching sight of the bare-chested, muscular look Darian was sporting, and feeling the massive, rock-hard heat pressing insistently against her thigh, Mikita instantly knew exactly what he had in mind for her tonight.
"C-Captain!" Mikita breathed out, her voice trembling with a potent mix of fear, submission, and sudden, overwhelming shyness.
Mikita had once been just an ordinary girl; however, after accidentally consuming the Kilo-Kilo Fruit, she had transformed into a superhuman—and subsequently, a ruthless secret agent. Since becoming an agent, ordinary human men were no longer a match for her, a fact that had left her with very few opportunities to actually interact with men on a dominant, romantic level.
Now, confronted by Darian's sudden, unannounced, and entirely overpowering advance—even though she had mentally prepared herself for such a possibility—Mikita couldn't help but feel a massive surge of both vulnerability and fear.
Unlike Alvida, who dressed in revealing bikinis, Mikita was currently clad in a modest yellow silk top and matching shorts, draped in a sheer, lightweight robe. Yet, this did nothing to diminish the allure of her seductive, athletic figure.
Having suppressed his desires for a long time, and now gazing upon Mikita's enticing, trembling form pinned beneath him, how could Darian possibly hold back any longer?
Offering no superfluous explanations or gentle coaxing, Darian proceeded with a startling, breathtaking roughness.
RIIIIP!
With a few sharp, powerful pulls, Mikita's silk nightclothes were torn to shreds by Darian's bare hands, revealing a fair, seductive, and completely naked body laid bare before his hungry eyes.
Witnessing the ravenous, almost demonic look of pure lust on Darian's face, Mikita was genuinely terrified.
She instinctively used one hand to cup her bosom—trying to hide that lush, exposed landscape—while using the other to modestly shield her joined thighs, though a neat patch of golden blonde hair remained tantalizingly visible through her fingers.
However, her majestic, full breasts and the valley lush with golden foliage were simply too vast for her two small hands to conceal entirely.
Gazing at the frightened, naked Mikita, a lewd, lascivious grin spread across Darian's handsome features—a dark smile that caused the carefully cultivated, gentlemanly image he usually maintained around Nami to crumble completely.
When it came to such primal matters, Darian never believed in playing favorites; since he had forcibly helped Mikita shed her coverings, he reasoned, he certainly couldn't remain covered himself.
He stood up beside the bed and quickly shoved his shorts and boxers down, kicking them aside.
When that imposing, impossibly large member was laid bare before her eyes—its thick veins bulging grotesquely, throbbing with fierce, angry intensity in the lamplight—the mere thought of such a massive thing entering her body terrified Mikita so much that she clapped both her hands over her mouth, completely oblivious to the fact that she was now leaving the bounteous charms of her exposed bosom completely undefended.
Seeing her in such a state of shock and awe, the dark smile never left Darian's face.
Although Mikita was somewhat frightened, when Darian roughly tore her clothes away, she neither cried out aloud for help nor offered any genuine physical resistance—a fact that pleased Darian greatly. She knew her place.
Mikita and Alvida were not like Nami or Carmen. As seasoned bounty hunters and pirates, their entire worldview was governed by the brutal law of the jungle—survival of the fittest.
Submitting to the strong and becoming the woman of a powerful conqueror were deeply ingrained concepts in their minds; thus, Darian had absolutely no intention of treating them with the gentle, slow coaxing he reserved for the others. They expected dominance.
Gazing at Mikita—who looked just like a startled, helpless fawn caught in the jaws of a predator—Darian lunged forward onto the mattress.
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