WC: Marvel Journey

... Aidan Quinn

I woke up to a warm feeling.

But it wasn't the dry, scorching heat of Alabasta — the kind that drags across your skin like hot sand and fills your lungs with dry air.

This was different. Wet and obscene.

My brain was still floating somewhere between the last traces of sleep and the first sparks of awareness, but my body had already responded — pulsing, wide awake way before my mind. And when my eyes finally opened and adjusted to the soft light slipping through the curtains, everything made sense.

She was there.

Rogue.

Lying in my sheets like a vision pulled straight from the dirtiest part of my dreams. Her messy hair covered half her face, forming a dark, wild frame. But the eye I could see… it wasn't just teasing.

It was hungry.

And she was feeding on me.

Those full, purple-painted lips were wrapped around my cock, moving up and down with a rhythm that was filthy in the most calculated way. Not slow enough to be torture. Not fast enough to be over. Just the perfect tempo to trap me there — no escape — like a current of pleasure running straight through my core.

I didn't speak. Didn't dare interrupt.

I sank into the mattress, my neck falling back into the pillow, eyes half-lidded as I watched her head bob between my legs.

Rogue's hands were steady on my stomach, keeping the pressure just right, adjusting the angles. She knew exactly what she was doing — how to grip, how to suck, how to break me from the inside out with just her mouth.

And she enjoyed it.

Literally.

She took me as deep as her body allowed, then came back up with that slick, obscene sound that made me let out a low grunt. Her tongue slid under the head, pressed into the most sensitive spot, swirled, licked — not rushed, but insanely precise. Technique wrapped in raw want.

A moan escaped my throat — uninvited, unstoppable.

She smiled with my cock in her mouth, looking up at me, that gaze steady and full of control.

Then she picked up the pace — just a little. Just enough to make my body tense.

My hips moved on their own, chasing more, and Rogue didn't back off.

The heat of her mouth, the muffled sounds of suction, the scent of our barely-woken-up bodies mixed with the dry morning air… it was too much.

My whole body locked up. My breath stuttered. My thighs clenched.

And Rogue took me again. Her throat swallowing me like it was the last good thing left in the world.

I didn't even have to say a word — I came in her mouth with a deep, guttural sound.

And she stayed there, lips sealed around me, like she was waiting for every last drop. Then, with a slow, almost ceremonial motion, she slid her mouth off, licked the tip like she was cleaning up something sacred, and let out a husky sigh.

She didn't say anything. Just wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand, then slid her fingers over her tongue — like she was savoring the moment.

She climbed on top of me with the ease of a satisfied predator. Every curve, every movement designed to tease, reminding me exactly what had just happened.

She leaned over my chest, her breasts brushing against my warm skin, her breath hot on my neck.

"The girls are downstairs having breakfast", she said casually, like she was giving me a report. "I was sent to wake you up."

I took a deep breath, my body still buzzing. The taste of her still fresh in my memory.

"You picked the best possible method."

She let out a soft, dirty laugh. The kind of laugh meant to make a filthy mind filthier.

"Knew you'd like it, Sugah."

"Rogue… I should give you a medal."

"I'll take it in the form of payback…" she stood up and started walking off, slipping out of the shirt she was wearing, letting it fall off her shoulders, "… later."

Before leaving, she glanced back over her shoulder. Hair falling across her face, eyes gleaming with dangerous promises.

"Try walking after that, will you?"

The door closed.

I just laid there, chest rising and falling. Body still in a trance.

...

I walked down the stairs with the kind of calm only someone with sky-high dopamine levels could have at the start of the day.

The hotel was old, but comfortable — one of those forgotten stone gems in the middle of the desert, with thick columns, carved wooden furniture, and tapestries hanging on the walls like someone was desperately trying to hide the scent of sand and political tension.

The main lobby was decorated in a mix of tribal flair and barely disguised extravagance. A small restaurant sat in the left corner, with round tables, cushioned benches, and a counter that smelled like burnt coffee and spices. Desert breeze slipped in through the open windows, bringing the scent of the street and that constant hum of life outside.

And there, at a quiet corner table, I found them.

Jean was sipping some weird green infusion that smelled like medicine. Ororo was slicing up a local fruit with the patience of a diplomat in surgery mode. Rogue, already composed and relaxed, had a smirk on her lips that said more than words ever could.

And Raven, of course, looked at me the second I approached, her hood slightly lowered.

"You took your time", she said, voice low and flat.

The kind of line that carried silent judgment and a touch of sarcasm.

"I was woken up very gently", I answered, pulling out a chair. "Not the kind of thing you rush."

Rogue chuckled but kept her eyes on her plate. Ororo rolled hers. Jean just sighed and pushed a basket of bread toward me.

But what really made me stop for a second… was her.

Sitting there like she'd always belonged to the furniture.

Nico Robin.

She was leaned back casually, one leg crossed over the other, eyes hidden beneath the tilted brim of a black cowboy hat. She wore a fitted, low-cut black denim shirt that outlined her curves in a way that was wildly inappropriate for breakfast. The skirt was short, as always. Legs crossed, elegant. Over it all, a white fur coat — open, soft, and obviously expensive.

The whole look was pure provocation. And still, she gave off the serene vibe of someone just there for coffee.

Since I walked in, she hadn't said a word. Just watched me — that kind of stare that doesn't ask, doesn't accuse, doesn't invite. Just analyzes. Like deciding, right then and there, if I was worth the next sentence.

I sat down with a soft exhale.

"Good morning."

"For some", she replied, smiling with her lips but not her eyes.

Ororo was the first to lean slightly toward Robin, voice polite but sharp.

"Did you follow us, or were you already waiting?"

Robin didn't answer right away. She picked up the cup in front of her, took a sip, and only then said, "Let's just say… I tend to know where interesting people end up."

Jean tilted her head, arms crossed.

"And what does a woman like you want with us?"

"With you? Nothing", Robin smiled, then locked eyes with me. "Just him."

The table went quiet for two full seconds.

I raised an eyebrow.

"Well. Considering you didn't wake up in my bed this morning, now I'm curious."

"A shame", she said, not missing a beat. "But maybe it's just a matter of time."

Rogue coughed. Ororo raised an eyebrow. Raven muttered something that sounded like "this story's already off track."

Robin uncrossed her legs and shifted in that slow, graceful way like she was born in slow motion. The fur coat settled better on her shoulders. The sunlight from the window brought out the contrast between her tanned skin and the tight black denim. An intentional visual trap.

Then she dropped it — casually, like she was just commenting on the weather: "Sir Crocodile would like to speak with you, Aidan."

Smooth and light. Like she was inviting me for tea and not a conversation with one of the world's most dangerous men.

"The great hero of Alabasta?" I raised an eyebrow. "The savior who uses sand as an excuse to wipe away the last bits of humanity from this region?"

Robin gave that smile — the kind that says yes, and also no.

"The leader of Baroque Works. One of the Shichibukais recognized by the World Government."

Rogue leaned forward, elbow resting on the wooden table, bread forgotten in her hand.

"And why does he wanna talk to Aidan?"

I answered — mostly because I wanted to hear it out loud too.

"Well… when a new face shows up right when your years-long master plan is about to pay off… getting a little paranoid is fair game", I shrugged. "I'd be suspicious too."

Ororo shot me a look that blended irritation and affection in equal parts.

"You expected this."

"I figured it might happen", I said, stretching in my chair and grabbing a piece of bread that probably dated back to the last century. "I just hoped I'd get one more morning off."

Silence fell over the table.

Outside, the city kept buzzing. Market noise, shouts, wooden wheels, camel bells. Life went on like nothing was about to collapse.

Robin broke the silence, rising with the elegance of poison being poured into a crystal glass.

"He's expecting you", she said. "Today. Before noon", she paused. "And Crocodile doesn't usually ask twice."

She adjusted the cowboy hat with a gesture that deserved to be replayed in slow motion, turned without hurry, and started walking toward the exit. Her coat swayed behind her like a curtain of judgment.

Before disappearing behind the lobby columns, she looked over her shoulder. Her eyes sparkled with calculated amusement.

"Dress well, Aidan. He appreciates men with presence."

And then she vanished — like she'd left a carefully wrapped trap behind at the table.

I leaned back, staring at the ceiling for a moment.

"Well…" I sighed. "Anyone here want to stop me from going?"

Silence.

Just the sound of Rogue biting into her bread with a face that clearly said obviously not. Ororo crossed her arms. Jean looked away like she already knew asking would be a waste of time.

Raven was the one who spoke, emotionless, like she was stating that the sun exists.

"You're going either way."

"Obviously", I said, spreading my arms. "It's a golden opportunity! When else will I get the chance to have tea with a main villain while he decides whether to kill me or upgrade me to 'worthy obstacle'?"

Jean leaned back in her chair, her eyes still half-focused on the spot where Robin had disappeared.

"Then what we need to do is obvious", she said. "Because I doubt this Crocodile guy can tolerate someone like you for very long."

I smirked.

"Yeah, I do have that side effect."

Jean continued, "So… how do we save this kingdom?"

The question hung over the table. Because, let's be real — when you've got a group of absurdly talented, gorgeous, and deadly women sitting around a guy like me… the question stops being if we'll get involved.

And becomes when.

I grinned, tossed a piece of bread in the air, and caught it with my mouth.

"First, we finish breakfast. Then I go have a little chat with the sheriff. And if he tries anything funny…" I glanced at each of them. "I'll tell you exactly what to do."

… Ororo Munroe (Storm)

Vacation, my ass.

Ororo could spot a cover story from miles away — and Aidan, that charming, sarcastic, and dangerously clever idiot, hadn't made a single move by accident since his feet hit the sands of Alabasta.

He'd known from the start.

He knew who'd be here, he knew the state of the kingdom, and he knew exactly how to light the fuse and walk away whistling while the desert burned behind him.

And it wasn't just because of Nico Robin — although Ororo would admit, with a touch of brutal honesty, the woman was absurdly beautiful, poised, silent, and deadly.

Yeah. Aidan had a thing for that type.

But it wasn't only that.

From day one — from the casually dropped location names over breakfast, from the "accidental" strategic detours — Ororo had seen the seams in the performance. He'd planted every piece with the same smug grin he used to seduce them.

And now, he'd given the orders. Calm voice, relaxed tone. Like he was picking off a menu.

Jean — sharp-minded and emotionally precise — had been sent straight to the rebel army's core. Officially? A "diplomatic opinion." Realistically? The only person who could stop a rebellion from blowing up too early was a telepath who could feel a general's hesitation before he even thought about defecting.

Rogue and Raven had gone into the back alleys of Alubarna. A duo that, honestly, was weird.

Rogue was fire — fierce, bold, destructive. Raven was shadow — quiet, unreadable, ethereal. They didn't mesh… which is exactly why they might work. One hit, the other vanished. One spoke with fists, the other with silence.

Their role was simple: take out any Baroque Works agent trying to attack from the edges while Crocodile focused on his "special guest."

And her? Well.

Ororo Munroe's role had been obvious from the beginning.

This city was collapsing from drought. The people's desperation rose with every grain of sand choking their windows. Kids fainted at noon. Crops? Gone. Wells? Bone-dry.

And Aidan, with all his sarcastic calm, had looked at her and said: "You're the Goddess who'll grant this land's wish."

Ororo Munroe. Storm. The Weather Goddess.

She wasn't here for sightseeing. She was the miracle no one expected.

Her power wasn't just a spectacle — it was salvation. She could bend the sky. Call rain to places that hadn't seen it in years. Make gods look down on Alabasta again.

And he knew that. And he used it.

All while pretending to be a curious tourist. While smiling at Robin like he was just there to flirt. While strolling through Alabasta like some laid-back vacation guide…

He was already winning. Because everyone — even Crocodile — was dancing to his rhythm.

Ororo looked toward the horizon, where clouds were slowly forming — deliberate, intentional, born of her will.

"You want to play theater", she murmured to the wind. "But you're the one who picked the perfect weapons, Aidan."

And for a second — just one — she pitied Crocodile. That man who thought he could handle someone like Aidan.

But when the desert trembled… When dark clouds formed in the blinding blue sky… When that first drop of rain hit the cracked earth…

"They'd understand."

This war was already lost.

They just didn't know it yet.

… Nico Robin

The sound of footsteps came first — steady, unhurried, way too confident for someone walking straight into a monster's den.

Robin leaned against one of the inner columns of Rain Dinners, arms crossed under her white coat, silhouette framed by the soft light of late morning. She watched the main entrance with that usual calm that always threw off anyone who didn't know her.

And then he appeared.

Hands in the pockets of dark pants, hair deliberately messy like he'd just walked off a high-fashion shoot for the underworld, and ridiculously blue eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses. Almost comical, considering the glow she knew was behind those lenses — way too bright for a man who should've been cautious.

He walked like he was heading to brunch. Or maybe a casual chat about the weather. Definitely not like someone about to face one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea.

And alone, without the women.

"Interesting", Robin murmured, a subtle smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

The absence of his companions said more than any excuse could.

Either he was absurdly arrogant… or unbelievably dumb.

Probably both.

He stopped in front of her and took off the sunglasses with the kind of theatrical flair that only someone fully aware they were being watched could pull off.

"Like the outfit?" he asked, spinning the glasses between his fingers. "I was gonna wear a hat too, but figured it might outshine you."

Robin let her smile grow just enough.

"Most people tremble before walking through those doors", she said, voice soft, almost sweet.

"Most doors don't have you standing in front of them", he replied, wearing a grin that was somehow both dumb and charming.

Robin didn't bother hiding her amusement.

Without another word, she turned and started leading him down the long hallway of polished stone that led to Crocodile's private chambers. With each step, their footsteps echoed into the heavy silence — the kind that usually hung over decisions that ended in blood puddles and late regrets.

They walked side by side with a disturbingly natural ease. Like accomplices. Like living curiosities to one another.

Robin didn't ask about the women. She knew he wouldn't tell her. And honestly, she preferred to find out on her own. It was more fun that way.

They turned into a wider corridor, where the air felt heavier.

That's where they ran into Mr. 1 — standing still, posted up like a statue made of steel. Stone-faced, arms crossed, gaze sharp enough to cut like the blades built into his body.

He stared at Aidan with eyes that didn't blink.

Aidan, of course, looked at him like he recognized him from a wanted poster.

"This is the guy who turns into a Swiss Army knife, right?"

Mr. 1 didn't answer or move a muscle. He just kept watching until the two of them disappeared around the next corner.

Robin let out a low sound — almost a laugh.

"If he chopped your head off right now, it wouldn't be personal. That's just his sense of humor."

Aidan blinked, "Comforting."

"He respects quiet people. So you're not exactly winning here."

"And you?"

Robin glanced sideways at him, the subtle smile returning.

"I prefer sharper wit. It cuts deeper."

They stopped in front of a tall door — dark wood with carved details, old symbols etched in discreet patterns. Not just an office door.

The brass handle gleamed in the light. It was always warm, like it knew what went on behind it.

Robin turned slightly, her eyes still shaded under the brim of her hat. A calm smile on her face.

"Last chance to pretend you're just here for sightseeing."

Aidan mock-adjusted an imaginary tie.

"I am sightseeing. Full package. Includes villains, ancient secrets, and the occasional rebellion attempt. All-inclusive."

Robin shook her head, "If he decides to kill you, at least it'll be quick. Sir Crocodile doesn't like drawn-out suffering. He prefers clean solutions. Like ripping lungs out through the throat."

"Efficient."

"Almost poetic."

Aidan raised an eyebrow, "And if he wants to hire me?"

"Well…" She smiled, one of those smiles that sounded like a sentence. "You might end up wishing he'd just killed you."

She lifted a hand and knocked gently on the door. From the other side, a slow, deep, commanding voice answered: "Enter."

Robin turned the handle, and together, they stepped through the doorway.