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Shanks was the first to present between the two of them — because of course he was, always getting ahead of Buggy one way or another. He was an alpha, another foregone conclusion, just like Captain Roger and Rayleigh.
Buggy was jealous. How could he not be jealous? It was just another way Shanks had beaten him. There was still a chance that Buggy could present as an alpha, too, but he was doubtful that his atrocious luck would ever work in his favor like that. At this point, all he could do was hope to end up as a beta rather than an omega.
For all the fuss everyone made about Shanks’ presentation though, it didn’t seem like he had changed all that much, at least not to Buggy. Aside from growing a little bit taller (another thing Buggy resented) and his canine teeth getting just a little bit sharper, he looked pretty much the same.
Shanks also acted pretty much the same, which meant he was still annoying and awful and frustrating in equal measure. He may have been an alpha now, but to Buggy, he was just the same old Shanks that he had unfortunately grown up with.
Maybe nothing had to be different, Buggy thought. Maybe Shanks being an alpha didn’t mean much at all.
Buggy was, as usual and quite unfortunately, wrong. Of course.
Buggy woke up to a warm and heavy weight against his back. There was only one person it could be, so without a second thought, he shoved his elbow back, hoping to catch Shanks in the side, if not his stomach.
“Get out,” Buggy mumbled, not bothering to open his eyes. He was too tired to do much more than that. He didn’t want Shanks in his bed, but it was too much effort to kick him out right now. He could only hope that Shanks would just leave on his own.
Unfortunately, Shanks didn’t seem to get the memo, wrapping himself around Buggy even more until there was basically no space between their bodies. His arms had a firm hold around Buggy’s waist, and his face was buried somewhere in Buggy’s hair. He was like an octopus wrapping its tentacles around an unsuspecting fish.
Maybe if they had been sailing closer to a Winter Island, Buggy wouldn’t have minded Shanks’ extra heat, but right now, it was much too hot, and he could feel himself starting to sweat through the thin shirt he wore to sleep. “Shanks,” he tried again, louder this time so the idiot couldn’t pretend not to hear him. “If you’re not going to get out of my bed, at least get off of me. It’s too hot!”
Shanks didn’t listen. He never listened to Buggy, but it was even more annoying now since all Buggy wanted was to get back to sleep. Sweating to death was not going to help that.
“I said get off of me, stupid Shanks!” Buggy detached one of his hands and sent it back around to Shanks, roughly tugging at the back of his shirt. If the shirt tore, it would be Shanks’ fault anyway.
Instead of a normal response, Shanks growled, like he was some kind of wild animal instead of an idiotic teenage boy. The growl was deep and threatening, and even though Buggy would never admit it, a harsh shiver of fear ran through his body at the sound, freezing him in place.
Shanks nudged his face closer to the back of Buggy’s neck, pushing his long hair out of the way to get at the bare skin. It was only when Buggy felt the wet flat of Shanks’ tongue, followed by the points of his teeth, against the nape of his neck that he lurched into motion again.
“Shanks!” Buggy yelped, way too loud for this time of night. He didn’t care if he got in trouble, though. It might have been better if Rayleigh came thundering in to lecture him anyway. “Let go of me!” He let his limbs go every which way, knocking into whatever part of Shanks he could reach while he did his best to flail his way out of Shanks’ vise grip.
It wasn’t until Buggy detached his head, pulling it as far away from Shanks’ gnawing mouth as possible, that he was able to get in a good hit, walloping Shanks hard enough on the nose to finally wake him up.
“Ow!” Shanks’ hands automatically went to his sore nose, releasing Buggy’s torso so he could roll the rest of his body out of bed. “What the hell was that for?!”
“You don’t get to say that to me!” Buggy yelled, collecting the various severed parts of his body so he could put himself back together again. “You deserved it for getting in my bed, trapping me with your body, and trying to EAT ME!”
For a moment, Shanks just looked confused. “Eat you?”
“What else would you call licking and biting at the back of my neck, huh? What’s wrong with you!”
Shanks flushed a brilliant red, almost the color of his hair, though it was difficult to see in the near dark of their room. “I wasn’t—that’s not,” he stuttered out, though Buggy was not interested in hearing his excuses. “I didn’t want to eat you!”
Thankfully, it seemed like Shanks still had enough sense to feel shame, quickly lowering his head underneath Buggy’s angry gaze. “Sorry,” he said, instead of trying to protest some more. “I really didn’t mean to, Buggy.”
Buggy wasn’t happy with the apology, but at this point, it was probably all he was going to get from Shanks. He was too tired to drag this out anymore anyway. “Just get back into your own bed,” he snapped, giving Shanks a stink eye that seemed to make him deflate even more. “If you try to crawl back into mine again, I’ll stab you.”
“…Okay.” Shanks crawled out of the bunk under Buggy’s watchful eyes, and it was only when he was safely up the ladder and in his own bunk that Buggy felt comfortable enough to go back to his own bed.
“Sorry, Buggy,” Shanks said, his voice small and contrite as it floated down to where Buggy was trying to get comfortable again.
“Whatever. Just don’t do it again,” Buggy huffed as he dragged his blanket over his head. The next time Shanks interrupted his sleep, he’d just kick him out and lock the door so he couldn’t get back in.
Unfortunately for Buggy, whatever strangeness had plagued Shanks the night before continued into the morning and the rest of the day. If anything, he got worse as the day went on.
All day long, Shanks was absent-minded and distracted, but not in his usual way where he’d be pulling Buggy this way and that to check something that had caught his eye on the ship or out on the open sea. Instead, he seemed to zone out for minutes at a time, staring out at nothing until Buggy got fed up enough with him slacking on their chores that he’d smack Shanks on the back of the head.
He also wouldn’t stop following Buggy around. They were already pretty attached at the hip, but this was worse than it had ever been. Shanks was always right next to or behind Buggy, trailing after him like a lost chick. It was all Buggy could do to keep the barest amount of distance between them so he could breathe without Shanks hovering over his shoulder.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Shanks was so close that he was basically in Buggy’s lap at this point, and Buggy shoved him roughly, detaching his hands so he could push Shanks even farther away. “Did you hit your head or something? You’re being super weird.”
“I’m fine,” Shanks said, even though he was clearly not fine, as evidenced by how weirdly glassy his eyes were and how sweaty he was. It wasn’t even that hot today. “I just wanna hang out with you, Buggy.”
Buggy scowled, especially since Shanks just crawled back from where he had shoved him like nothing happened. Maybe if he tossed a bomb at the same time, Shanks would finally get the hint. “Well, I don’t want to hang out with you, so go away.”
Shanks didn’t go away. In fact, he invaded even more of Buggy’s personal space, reaching out to wrap an arm around Buggy’s waist, like it was the only thing keeping him upright. “You smell good,” he murmured, sounding almost dreamy, as he pillowed his cheek against Buggy’s shoulder.
“And you stink,” Buggy said, wrinkling his nose exaggeratedly. It wasn’t really untrue either. Shanks didn’t smell gross or anything, but his body odor seemed stronger than usual, making Buggy even more aware of his presence, not that he could usually ignore Shanks anyway.
“Don’t be mean,” Shanks complained, but he kept quiet after that, seemingly content to just drape himself over Buggy and nothing else. Even as annoying as it was to have Shanks all over him, Buggy knew it would be more energy than it was worth trying (and failing) to get away from him.
It wasn’t until dinner that Buggy finally found out what Shanks’ issue was, though it seemed glaringly obvious in hindsight.
They were having dinner with the rest of the crew as usual. The atmosphere was rowdy as everyone enjoyed their food and drinks. Even Shanks seemed to have found some energy again, wolfing down his meal with enthusiasm. Any other day, Buggy would’ve competed with him to see who could eat more or finish their food faster, but he was just grateful to be able to eat without Shanks clamoring all over him.
As crowded as it was, it was no surprise that Buggy was getting jostled around a bit. It was something he was used to, though, so he didn’t mind all that much. It was like getting mad at the swells of the seas.
Shanks, on the other hand, seemed to mind very much. The more other crew members bumped into Buggy or gave him a rough pat on the head as they passed by, the less he ate until all he was doing was holding his spoon in a tight grip and glaring daggers in Buggy’s direction.
It was weird, but Shanks had been acting weird all day. It wasn’t Buggy’s problem to handle, so he ignored it — until he couldn’t at least.
There was a crew member at Buggy’s side, talking about something or another. Buggy was only half listening, but he nodded along anyway to make it seem like he was paying more attention than he actually was. It wasn’t until an arm was thrown over Buggy’s shoulder, pulling him closer by the neck that things went wrong.
A growl, much like the one Buggy heard last night, reverberated through the room, loud enough to be heard over the usual rowdy dinnertime din. It was Shanks, with his mouth open and still growing fangs bared.
There was a beat of silence, long enough that Buggy was worried that the ship had somehow frozen in time, before it was broken by a loud guffaw from Captain Roger. “You hear that, boys? Shanks has a mighty fine growl already!”
Like a spell being broken, everyone was hooting and hollering again, some coming over to slap Shanks on the back, though Buggy had no idea why he even deserved it. Shanks didn’t seem to know either, looking more and more confused by the second.
“Shanks, look at me.” It was Rayleigh, who had come over from where he was seated with the captain. Shanks obeyed without question, lifting his head up to meet Rayleigh’s eyes. Whatever Rayleigh saw had him huffing out a sigh.
“Go see Crocus after you finish eating,” Rayleigh said, giving Shanks a pat on the shoulder. “You’re in rut, and we can’t have you causing too much trouble.”
Buggy didn’t know much about ruts, but that was to be expected. The alphas on the crew never talked much about their ruts anyway, other than to complain when they went through it and the ship wasn’t close enough to an island so they could blow off some steam with the omegas there. He had an explanation for Shanks’ weirdness now, but that didn’t mean much if there wasn’t any way to stop it. At the very least, he hoped Crocus could give Shanks some medication to control some of the symptoms.
Buggy had been alone in their shared room for a while before Shanks finally came back from his visit with Crocus. “Welcome back,” he said, not looking up from the book he had spread across his lap. It was an encyclopedia of gems, making it infinitely more interesting than Shanks.
Shanks didn’t say anything, but Buggy could hear him moving across the room. A moment later, and he was sitting behind Buggy, pulling him into the spread vee of Shanks’ legs. A pair of arms circled around Buggy’s waist, and Shanks’ forehead fell onto Buggy’s shoulder. “Ugh,” he groaned, sounding more pained than Buggy had ever heard him.
“What the hell are you doing?” Buggy tried to squirm out of Shanks’ grip, but all that did was make him hold on even tighter. “What’s wrong with you?”
“I’m in rut,” Shanks said, which duh, they already knew that. He rubbed his head against Buggy’s shoulder, like a forlorn dog seeking comfort. “It’s just…a lot.”
“What does that even mean?” Buggy asked, growing annoyed. “Didn’t Crocus give you something to make things easier?”
“He said I couldn’t take any suppressants yet, not until I’ve had a few natural ruts at least,” Shanks said. Buggy could barely hear him since his face was buried in Buggy’s shoulder. “This sucks.”
“Why’s that my problem then?” Buggy wanted to detach parts of his body to get away, but he was sure that Shanks would just grab them all in a tangled bundle to stop him from leaving, and that was even more annoying. “Isn’t there anything else you can do?”
“Being with you helps.” Buggy could feel Shanks’ breath against him, warm even through the fabric of his shirt. Involuntarily, he shivered, and then grew irritated with himself right after. What was there to shiver about anyway? It was just stupid Shanks.
Buggy didn’t know why Shanks was so fixated on him right now. It wasn’t like he had any pheromones to give out, at least not yet anyway. And he was sure that he was a beta anyway, if anything, so he wouldn’t be able to help with Shanks’ rut even if he had already presented.
“I hate you,” Buggy said, injecting as much vehemence into his voice as he could. Leave it to Shanks to be even more troublesome as an alpha than he was before. Buggy had half a mind to start a fist fight just to get Shanks to stop being so clingy.
He didn’t though, because it was obvious that Shanks was already feeling bad. He was still too hot, like a furnace, and his breathing was rough even though all he was doing was taking up too much of Buggy’s personal space.
Buggy detached a hand and used it to bonk the back of Shanks’ head. “Don’t bother me too much at least.” If Shanks kept quiet, maybe Buggy could ignore him and just read his book in peace until they went to bed.
For a while, Shanks was docile, enough so that Buggy was lulled into a false sense of security. He even got comfortable enough to lean back against Shanks’ chest, using him as a cushion instead of hunching over the book.
Buggy felt Shanks moving behind him, but he ignored it, figuring that it was just Shanks adjusting his position a little. In the end, he wasn’t wrong, but it wasn’t at all innocent like he originally thought.
“Buggy,” Shanks whispered against his hair, which was down after his bath earlier. His voice was low and raspy, unlike his usual tone. “It’s not enough.”
Shanks’ arms, which had loosened over time, tightened again, and his hands began to move. One of them slipped under the edge of Buggy’s shirt, skirting over his side and dragging across the soft skin of his belly. The other slipped between Buggy’s legs, gripping his thigh tightly, mere inches away from his crotch.
“What are you doing?!” Buggy yelped, jerking forward to try and get away only to be pulled back in an instant. “Let go, you bastard!”
“No.” It was a growl this time, stilling Buggy’s movements against his will. Shanks turned his head to mouth at the bare skin of Buggy’s neck, his tongue laving wetly across the flesh. “I need you, Buggy.”
Buggy shoved his hands between his legs, hoping to prevent Shanks from touching him further. It only sort of worked, since Shanks’ other hand had already made more progress, groping across Buggy’s chest and pinching one of his nipples in a way that sent confusing sparks across his brain.
The hand between his legs didn’t help. Shanks didn’t seem to be deterred by the barrier, only placed his hand on top of Buggy’s own and pushed further in. It was Buggy’s own hand cupping his soft cock, but Shanks was the one controlling the movement, making the touch feel strange and new.
There were too many conflicting sensations running across his body, and Buggy was getting dizzy, confused. He wanted to push Shanks away, but part of him also wanted to lean further into his touch. It was maddening.
Teeth touched the back of Buggy’s neck, soft enough that he didn’t notice at first, before they sank in a deep, harsh bite. Pain exploded from the back of Buggy’s neck, more than enough to knock some sense into him.
Thrashing like a wild animal caught in a trap, Buggy severed several parts of his body, sending them into all directions of the room, knocking various items over and just causing an overall mess. He severed his head last, yanking it away from Shanks’ mouth with as much force as he could.
“Let go, let go, let go!” he yelled, causing as much ruckus as he could. His detached hands flew at Shanks and furiously yanked on his hair, clothes, anywhere they could reach until Shanks finally let go of Buggy’s torso, and he was able to get out of his hold.
There was blood on Shanks’ mouth, Buggy’s blood. He looked like a beast, like an idiot running on instinct alone, and Buggy hated him so damn much.
“Get out!” Using every part of his body, Buggy dragged Shanks and shoved him out of the room. He landed in a crumpled heap in the hallway, and Buggy quickly locked the door, pressing his body against the wood to hold it shut just in case.
“Buggy,” came Shanks’ voice a few moments later, plaintive and regretful. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
“I don’t care!” Buggy shouted through the door, barely able to keep his anger in check. He didn’t know if he was still bleeding or not, but the back of his neck felt wet and tacky. It was gross. “Go die!”
For a few breathless moments, Buggy thought Shanks would try for the door, force his way through and push Buggy down again, but after that, there was just silence. Buggy waited a few more minutes just to be safe, but when he finally opened the door, just a crack, there was no one outside.
When Buggy woke, he was disoriented, unsure of where he was. He didn’t remember falling asleep, and it seemed like he hadn’t made it to his bed anyway, since the lamp in the room was still on.
It took him a few seconds, slowly blinking away the sleep from his eyes and letting his brain come back online, to realize that something was wrong. He should have been alone in the room, but there was another presence, right between his legs, pushing them carefully apart.
Bracketed by Buggy’s thighs, there was Shanks, who had somehow managed to get back into the room. Shanks was usually shit at lock picking, but Buggy hoped he had managed to improve enough to succeed this time, if only because a broken door would be an even bigger pain to explain to Rayleigh.
“You stupid bastard, get out!” Buggy hissed, barely keeping his voice down. He tried to scramble away, but Shanks was faster, wrapping his arms around Buggy’s waist to keep him still.
“Sorry, I’m sorry.” Shanks’ voice was shaky, and he looked worse than before if that was possible. His face was flushed pink, and his hair was a wild mess. “I won’t do anything you don’t want, I promise. But I need to be here. With you.”
Buggy wanted to throw Shanks out again, but he was weak and stupid in the face of Shanks’ pleading eyes. He might have looked like a puppy, but Buggy knew that he was a wolf, with a strength and ferociousness to match. Even so, Buggy didn’t say no, didn’t kick Shanks in the face and beat him to hell.
“Fine,” Buggy said, swallowing roughly against his dry throat. “But you can’t get near my neck. Or bite me anywhere.”
The relief on Shanks’ face was so obvious that it made him look stupid. Alphas were supposed to be strong and intimidating, but Shanks just looked like a pathetic idiot in all his desperation. In a way, Buggy liked that.
“Thank you,” Shanks said, reaching forward to hug Buggy. “You’re the best.” If only Shanks could tell him that at any other time.
Even though Buggy was still a bit reluctant, he let Shanks pull him onto his lap, holding him close. In this position, Buggy was taller than Shanks for once (without using his powers at least) and able to look down at him easily.
Shanks was staring up at Buggy like he had put the stars in the sky, his face so full of awe that it was almost embarrassing. Stupid Shanks and his stupid face.
“Can I touch you?” Shanks asked. “I wanna touch you, please.”
You’re already touching me, Buggy wanted to snipe, but he refrained. It wasn’t like it would have any meaning to Shanks anyway. “Fine,” he said. “But you have to be gentle.”
“I will,” Shanks said, his hands eagerly sliding under Buggy’s shirt. He pushed up the fabric, but didn’t pull it off completely, leaving it bunched up at the top of Buggy’s chest.
Shanks cupped the curve of Buggy’s chest first, his hands warm. Buggy didn’t understand his interest. It wasn’t like he had any breasts, or even pecs that were that defined.
“Cute,” Shanks breathed, and Buggy didn’t know what he was talking about until Shanks leant down and took one of Buggy’s nipples into his mouth. The other one he rubbed with his fingers, gentle, not pinching like he had done before.
The wet sensation of Shanks’ mouth against Buggy’s chest had him jerking in surprise, and he tried to pull away, but as always, Shanks held him in place.
Shanks continued to suck on Buggy’s nipples, alternating between the two until they were both wet and swollen, sensitive even to just the air. Buggy had never paid attention to his nipples before, but now they were all he could feel.
“So good,” Shanks said, nuzzling his face into the center of Buggy’s chest. Both of his hands were playing with Buggy’s nipples, pinching and pulling them in a way that sent shivers down Buggy’s stomach.
“Don’t just focus on my chest, idiot.” Buggy grabbed Shanks’ hair and pulled roughly, trying to tug him away.
Shanks went easily, seemingly more than happy to obey. “Where else do you want me to touch?”
There was one obvious place, and Buggy was sure that Shanks could already feel it. Their hips were pressed together after all, and Buggy could more than feel Shanks’ interest.
“You know where,” Buggy said, scowling down at Shanks. If he tried to get Buggy to anything more, he’d put a stop to the whole thing in a heartbeat.
“Yeah, I know.” Shanks leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Buggy’s mouth. “Let’s do it together, okay?”
When Shanks’ hands moved to the waistband of Buggy’s shorts, he lifted his hips to help him pull them down, his underwear following along.
Even though they had been naked in front of each countless times, Buggy felt embarrassed about showing his hard cock to Shanks. He wanted to cover himself, but like he knew what Buggy was thinking, Shanks grabbed his wrist and held it back.
“You look so good, Buggy.” Shanks’ eyes were glued to Buggy’s cock, and he looked like he was seconds away from salivating.
Using his free hand, Shanks pushed down his pants and underwear just enough to pull out his cock. It was hard and red, with the tip already shiny with precome.
Buggy couldn’t help himself. He stared. He had seen Shanks’ cock before — not on purpose of course — but it hadn’t looked like this. It was bigger now, the difference even more obvious as Shanks pressed his cock against Buggy’s own.
Did presenting as an alpha give Shanks a size boost or something? It was just another unfair advantage that Shanks got, but Buggy couldn’t bring himself to be mad about it, too focused on more pressing matters.
“C’mon, Buggy, help me out.” Shanks reached out and pulled Buggy’s hand toward his cock. With his other hand, he wrapped his hand around Buggy’s own arousal, quickly moving it up and down.
Buggy followed suit soon after, not wanting to be outdone by Shanks, though it was probably a bad idea to make a competition out of things like this. Under his hand, Shanks’ cock was warm and firm. It felt different from his own, thicker, and somehow the thought made Buggy squirm.
They were both staring at their laps, watching the movements of their hands and the flashes of skin between their fingers. Everything was wet and slippery, the schlick schlick schlick of their hands almost too loud in the quiet room.
“I’m close,” Shanks said, knocking his head gently against Buggy’s arm. “Are you close?”
“M’close,” Buggy agreed, voice quiet. He couldn’t speak without panting, so he didn’t want to say anything at all. It was fine if Shanks embarrassed himself while doing this, but Buggy wasn’t going to let that happen to him.
It only took a few more strokes of Shanks’ hand, plus a rough thumb pressed into the tip of his cock, before Buggy was coming, his hips jerking forward without conscious thought. At least he had the foresight to bite down on his free arm, muffling the loud moan that would’ve fallen out otherwise.
“Fuck,” Shanks cursed, “Buggy, god.” Buggy barely managed to get enough brain cells together to continue stroking Shanks, dragging him toward his orgasm. He came all over Buggy’s hand, painting it white with thick streaks of come.
Despite having just come, Shanks was still hard, and based on the way his hips twitched, he was more than ready to keep going. Buggy, still trying to catch his breath, wasn’t sure he could keep up.
Shanks wrapped an arm around Buggy’s waist, pulling them closer together. The come on their skin was sticky, and Buggy knew they would have to clean up soon or deal with an even worse mess in the morning.
“Hey, Buggy,” Shanks said. His other hand came around Buggy’s back, moving down until it squeezed the curve of his ass. “I wanna…” He didn’t finish, but it was clear what Shanks was asking for.
Give him an inch, and Shanks would take a mile. If Buggy didn’t stop Shanks now, he’d be split open on his cock in minutes and full of come not too long after that. If Buggy didn’t want to die tonight, he had to do something and soon.
“Shanks, hey,” Buggy said, his voice as soft and soothing as he could make it. “Look at me.”
Shanks perked up immediately, like a dog hearing a command, and he did as Buggy asked, turning to face him without question. He almost looked cute like this, Buggy thought, which was a clear sign that he was going crazy.
To make up for what he was about to do, Buggy leaned down and gave Shanks a kiss, gently tangling their tongues together. Then, with one of his detached hands, he picked up his encyclopedia of gems, a book with a good amount of heft, and bashed it against the back of Shanks’ head, knocking him out.
A day and a half later, the Oro Jackson docked at a nearby Summer Island, something Buggy was extremely grateful for. Shanks had been dragged off the ship by a rowdy bunch of crew members, with Rayleigh leading the way, to visit one of the local brothels.
In his heart, Buggy wished for Shanks to be wrung utterly dry by whatever omega he spent his time with. If Shanks came back sex drunk and feeble, all the better for him to never bother Buggy again.
Although Buggy would usually be happy to explore the island, he decided to stay on the ship this time. It was quiet and peaceful, especially without Shanks hanging onto him like a limpet, and he spent the time quietly relaxing.
Sooner than Buggy would have liked, it was time for the crew to come back. Sadly, Shanks was among the members, having not been eaten alive during his time in the brothel. A pity.
Buggy could feel Shanks’ eyes on him as he stepped onto the ship, but Buggy resolutely ignored him, looking out into the ocean instead. If he was lucky, Shanks would avoid him, and they both could go on their merry way.
“Buggy,” Shanks called, because Buggy was never lucky.
“What do you want?” Buggy didn’t turn to look at Shanks, but he did send him a glare out of the corner of his eye.
Faster than Buggy could blink, Shanks was next to him, an arm around Buggy’s waist to pull him closer. “I’ll show you what I learned on the island later,” he said, mouth pressed up against Buggy’s ear. Then, with a brief, smacking kiss to the side of Buggy’s head, Shanks ran off, a great peal of laughter following him.
For a moment, Buggy was frozen, unsure of what had happened. When it did sink in, Buggy felt like his head was exploding, going from 0 to 1000 in an instant.
“Who wants you to show me anything!” Buggy yelled, furious with rage as he turned to give chase to Shanks. He was going to wring his neck like a wet towel. “You should just stay on this island and rot instead!”