Not Just About You

You're in the bathroom, cleaning up after an incident involving a duck, a hand-cannon, and a tin of sliced beets.  Franky avoided the mess by being on watch, but everyone else will be dripping beet juice from their ears for a while.  The girls had showered first, followed by the kids, and now it's Sanji's and your turn.  It's the normal post-chaos ritual onboard the Thousand Sunny.

Except for the part where your hand's on Sanji's cock.

Sanji's staring at your hand, mouth agape, and you'd be amused by the expression on his face if you weren't making the same one.  You hadn't really thought this one through, had you?  You were just doing what you always do with Sanji: fighting and competing.  It's more surprising that you haven't compared cock sizes before; although, before, on the Merry, there was only room for one in the head, and you hadn't really thought about it until now.

Sanji is hard and pulsing in your palm - the only way to measure accurately is with an erection - and it's nothing like holding your own cock.  He's bigger than you - damn it - and curves towards the left.  You'd only grabbed it when he'd claimed to be the winner, wanting to know first hand, so to speak.  Now you know. 

Sometimes, you really are an idiot. 

Sanji's Adam's apple bobs as he swallows convulsively.  Your hand's still on his cock and it's gotten past the point where you can brush it off somehow.  You feel hot all over.  You're sitting beside him on a stool in front of the showerhead.  The scrub brush on the floor between the stools is tinted pink from scrubbing off beet juice.  You can hear Nami yelling at Luffy to clean the deck through the open window above the bathtub.

You don't know what to do.  You've never touched another man's cock before.  You've kept your desires to fantasies while hidden in the storeroom.  You've never felt the need to cross that final line against the Marines' laws that your Sensei told you about long ago, when he'd taught you about sex with girls and you'd asked about sex with boys.

Your heart is pounding hard against your breast.  Your own cock is throbbing with arousal and you close your legs to put pressure on it.  The movement grabs Sanji's attention and his gaze is drawn upward to your face.  You don't know what you see reflected in his expression, but you know what you feel and the soapy slide of your fingers on his erection as it twitches make you both inhale sharply.  Your grip tightens reflexively and Sanji makes an almost inaudible noise that goes straight to your cock.

The bathroom shrinks around you.  It's just you, Sanji, and your hand on Sanji's cock.  Fear tickles the nape of your neck, even as desire threatens to strangle you.  Your thoughts are racing in circles, want chasing sanity with no winner.  You finally ignore your head and go with your gut.  You stare into Sanji's eyes as you give him a purposeful stroke. 

Sanji's teeth clamp onto his lower lip, his eyelids squeeze closed, and his cock jumps in your palm.  You suddenly want to laugh - you're giving someone a handjob!  It's not at all like you've imagined.  For one thing, it's Sanji.  For another, it's better.  The texture, the weight, and the heat make it real.  The pads of your fingers run along the vein stretching the length of Sanji's shaft.  The curve of your hand catches on the flare of his cockhead with every stroke.  The small sounds of pleasure that Sanji fails to suppress echo in your ears.

Giving a handjob is amazingly hot and you can't help touching yourself as you jack Sanji off.  Sanji's eyes fly open right as you take yourself in your fist, and there's a long moment when you stare at each other that makes your breath hitch and your stomach tighten.  Then it's his hand, not yours, wrapping around your cock and it's a new kind of competition that you lose spectacularly fast.  You can't help it; you were overly excited and someone else's hand was on your cock.   

There's amusement in the crook of his lips that you want to smack off.  Instead, you firm your grip and pull an embarrassingly loud moan from him.  You should be triumphant, but you're mostly turned on again and your spent cock tries valiantly to rise.  You soak in the details as you bring Sanji towards completion, wanting the experience to last.  When Sanji finally spills over your fist, you think it's the hottest thing you've ever seen and you want to do it again immediately.

You can't, though.  Nami's screeching and a mini-explosion pierces the heady fog in the bathroom,  and if you don't get out there to help clean the deck she'll probably charge you a fortune.  You let go of Sanji's cock reluctantly and rub your thumb through the slick mess coating the side of your finger.  You feel giddy and maybe a little queasy - it's your first time, after all.  You glance at Sanji, wondering how he feels.  Sanji's face is flushed and he's breathing raggedly, but he looks you in the eye with a mulish tilt to his chin, as if daring you to make a big deal over what had just happened.  You only grin and, since you're not one to play coy, ask when you can do it again.

Once, you were in a tavern waiting for a bounty worth something to come through the door and you overheard a group of pirates talking about sex.  You were sixteen, so of course you listened, and you learned things about women that made you glad you liked men.  Then two more pirates walked in that the group seemed to know, though they didn't sit together, and you found out in nasty tones that sex happened between men on pirate ships.  You weren't too surprised; pirates broke every Marine rule that they could. 

You waited and listened some more, but they didn't go into any detail that you'd hoped to hear.  You weren't a pirate, anyway, and sex wasn't something you needed in your quest to become the world's greatest swordsman.  Your hand worked just fine on its own.

You're a pirate, now.  And someone else's hand works a hell of a lot better.

You and Sanji meet every day you're not in port or being attacked by Marines or by Eskimos intent on eating Chopper.  You use the bathroom, as it has a lock on the door and you stink after training anyway.  During the dead time between breakfast and lunch, Sanji sits naked on the bath stool across from you, your knees bumping as you jerk each other off.

It's your favorite part of the day.  Sanji seems keen on it, too, as he keeps showing up.  Your conversation is limited to harder and faster peppered with grunts and moans.  You don't think about why he's doing this or how much he annoys you.  He has a cock that you want to touch and he wants to touch yours, and that's all that matters to you.

You finally get to the point where you don't go off like a firecracker when a nervous-looking Sanji suddenly changes the game and bends his head over your lap.  He uses his tongue, your brain explodes, and you come on his face. 

His glare keeps you from saying that he looks kind of hot wearing your spunk.  He cleans himself up - another bonus of doing it in the bathroom - and gestures at his own stiff cock with an impatient flick of his wrist.  You get that he wants reciprocation.  You'd never thought of mouths and cocks going together before, but since it felt embarrassingly good you're fine with trying it out.

You wrap your fist around the base of his cock to hold it upright, bend at the waist, and put your mouth to the task.  His cock stretches your lips wide and you're reminded of the stick candy canes you'd eaten on Drum Island, only bigger.  Sanji tastes like skin, not sugar, and you're sure it wouldn't be smart to bite.  You don't really know what to do now that it's in your mouth and so you decide to follow your train of thought and lick and suck on him like you would a candy cane.

From Sanji's reaction, you're doing it right.  Sanji grabs your hair, makes a pained sound, and comes nearly as fast as you did.  His spunk hits the back of your throat and coats your tongue, and you pull off with a disgusted face.  It tastes gross, bitter and slimy, and you spit in the drain.

Sanji looks a little more wrecked than usual and it makes you grin.  It's about time Sanji had a quick trigger, too.  You ask where he learned about it as you turn on the showerhead and snag the soap, and he tells you about overhearing a couple of guys at the last port talking about their assignation with a courtesan before kicking their asses for speaking about a lady in such a way.

The mouth thing becomes a part of your activities and despite the taste you enjoy it as much as the handjobs.  Sometimes, you go down to the hold where the spare sails are stored and you suck each other simultaneously on the bed of canvas.  Because you are who you are, it becomes a race to see who can make the other come first.  You usually lose, but in this you don't mind to a great extent.  And, anyway, he makes more noise than you.

It's your turn to do the dishes when all you want to do is get out of the galley.  It's stifling in there; you've stripped down to your trousers and your bare feet slap on the floor when you move.  Franky's serenading is mildly amusing, coming through the open door from out on deck.  You'd like to be on deck, too, taking a nap beneath the cool shade of the tree.

You set another washed dish in the drainer to be dried.  Sanji finally returns from the head and you get hotter just looking at him.  You can't figure out how he can wear so many clothes in this heat.  He drapes his suit jacket over a chair and rolls up his green shirtsleeves as he rounds the counter.  He stubs out the dwindling cigarette in the ashtray above the sink.

You expect him to reach for the dishtowel, sitting on the counter beside you.  He reaches for you instead, surprising you.  You glance questioningly at him as his rough palms slide across your sweat-slicked skin.  His lips quirk mischievously and you suck in a sharp breath as his fingers dip beneath the waistband of your trousers.  Your cock roused the moment he touched you and now it's firming fast.  He doesn't touch your cock, though.  He tickles your pubic hair and scrapes his fingernails lightly over your lower belly before removing his hand from your pants.

You protest when he takes his hands away completely.  He clucks his tongue, rinses his hands, and picks up the towel.  He starts drying the dishes like you aren't banging against the counter with the hard-on that he caused.  Casually, he mentions how sweaty you are and, after you finish the dishes, it might be smart to take another bath.

You like it when he gets frisky outside of the normal routine.  He's so busy with his duties as the ship's cook that he doesn't have much free time.  There's also six other nakama on the Sunny to contend with, and you're happy to disappear with him when you get the chance. 

You always look forward to being with Sanji and pleasure is never lacking.  After a while, however, you have an itch for something more.  What you know about sex has to do with women, so when Sanji shows up in the bathroom one day you ask him if he knows what else two men can do.  He eyes you suspiciously before telling you that he doesn't and you frown and wonder how the hell men have sex.  All your life you've fantasized about men, but you'd only picture them naked and touch them in your mind, or they'd touch you.  Nothing you'd overheard in the past about sex between men went into any specifics.

And so the next time you're in port and not starting or stopping a revolution, you drag Sanji to a brothel and ask the first woman you see where the male whores are.  She titters and gives you directions to another brothel down the street.

Sanji yanks you to a stop once you're back outside.  His face is as dark pink as his shirt and there's anger in his eyes.  He demands to know what you're doing, so you tell him point blank that you want to have sex with him but don't know how.  His face gets even pinker, but the anger leaves and after he lights a cigarette he leads you the opposite way down the street.

The second brothel is brown where the first one was red, but they smell the same and the whores are on display.  The men are mostly fair and pretty, some way too young, and you aren't much interested in them.  You like men who look and act like men.  Sanji may dress nicely, but he's more of a man than you are in attitude (when he's not being an idiot around women) and he's got plenty of muscle hidden beneath his clothes.

An oily looking older man with a slim mustache inquires about your business and you tell him that you want to watch men having sex.  His quicksilver smile sets your teeth on edge.  He motions to the whores in the room for you to pick from, and you glance sideways at Sanji before choosing two of the brawnier men.  You barely have enough money from the loan Nami gave you to pay.  The sex better be worth it, considering the amount of interest she's charging.

You and Sanji follow the two whores upstairs to a small room with a single bed and a side table.  On the table are a wash bowl, pitcher, dingy towel, and a tall, clear bottle filled with oil.  Sanji closes the door behind the four of you, and you're getting hard as the whores waste no time in removing their clothes.

Then one of them asks how you want them to fuck Sanji.  It makes you weirdly angry and you half step in front of Sanji with your hand on a katana hilt and a definitive no on your lips.  You tell them just to show you and Sanji how to have sex with each other.  Their sudden smiles make you want to cut their lips off, but Sanji's hand on your shoulder pulls you back.  He gives you a sharp look, you cross your arms over your chest, and lean against the door beside him.

You forget your anger as the whores start touching one another.  It's like your fantasies come to life.  Your pants grow tight quickly and you become warm under the collar.  One stands behind the other, reaches around his body, and fondles his cock and balls.  You stare hungrily, your mouth watering as the one in front grows hard.

The black haired whore is half a head taller than the brunet one, and is bigger all around.  The black haired one gives the other a light push toward the bed and snags the bottle of oil from the side table.  Sideways on the bed on his hands and knees, the brunet looks back over his shoulder and wiggles his muscular ass.  You swallow convulsively as the black haired whore coats his fingers with oil, parts the brunet's asscheeks, and pushes his fingers into the brunet's asshole.

The black haired whore is saying something about getting the other guy ready, but arousal is buzzing in your ears and making it hard to listen.  Sanji bumps your arm and you cut a glance to him.  He's loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt.  The normally pale vee of his exposed chest, his neck, and his cheeks are flushed from desire.  He puffs vigorously on his cigarette.  He's as affected as you are, and it makes you want to touch him.

A deep moan from one of the whores pulls your attention back to where it should be and the black haired whore is four fingers deep inside the brunet's asshole.  He slides his fingers in and out, the brunet starts begging, and your hand drops to the front of your crotch to give yourself a pinch to stop from coming.

The black haired whore's erect cock is bigger than yours or Sanji's and you briefly wonder how you'd fit it in your mouth, as he slicks it with oil.  You watch as he climbs onto the bed behind the brunet, lines his cock up with the brunet's asshole, and pushes inside.  You have a moment when you realize that you're a moron - of course that's how you'd have sex - and then you're shoving Sanji into the corner, yanking open his suit jacket, and forcing your hand down his pants.

Sanji doesn't miss the hint, and his calloused fingers wrap around your aching cock.  It's difficult to get a handjob with your pants still on, but you don't last long enough for it to matter anyway.  You get a face full of cigarette smoke when he comes soon after and you try not to burn yourself as you rest your forehead against his with a dry chuckle.  It's like the first time again with your lack of control over your cock.  You feel a little embarrassed, but luckily Sanji's pants are just as wet and the whores are still too busy going at it to care.

You don't get to try out what you learned at the brothel with Sanji right away because the Marines show up on the island and make a mess of things, as usual.  It's not until the Sunny is well out to sea and the crew's settled back into routine that you get the chance.  You dance awkwardly with Sanji about it as you decide a time and place, because it'll take more than a few minutes locked in the bathroom to have sex.

You choose the infirmary as it has a bed, doors that lock, and curtains on the windows.  You meet Sanji after everyone has gone to bed, except for Usopp on watch.  You're pretty nervous.  Cigarette smoke hangs heavily in the galley and the ashtray on the counter is overflowing, indicating that you're not the only one who feels that way.

Sanji stabs out his last cigarette, tells you to come on already, and, with his hands in his pockets, swaggers into the infirmary.  His attitude shifts things back to the realm of normal and you call him the usual insulting names as you lock the door behind you.  You strip like it's any other time you get together and argue about who gets to do what.  You're both hard enough to hurt.

You get on your hands and knees on the infirmary bed readily - the brunet whore sounded like he was having more fun - and wait for Sanji to dig out the oil from Chopper's supplies.  Anticipation tightens your body.  You didn't realize how badly you wanted to have sex until you saw it.  You've been haunted by the phantom desire for something you told yourself you didn't need.  Now, you're finally getting it.

Sanji is already breathing hard and his skin is flushed from arousal.  The dimmed light makes his gaze dark as he rakes his eyes over you.  You shiver in excitement and your voice is hoarse when you tell him to hurry up.

Sanji climbs onto the bed behind you and you scoot forward a little more when he asks.  Your eyelids fall shut when you feel his slightly sweaty hand on your ass.  You bathed twice before venturing across the ship to meet Sanji, but suddenly feel worried that you're not clean enough.  The worry is blown away by a slick finger sliding down your crack.  A shudder of pleasure wracks your body.

Sanji yanks his hands away, but you order him back with several curses.  His hands return, and he slides his finger between your asscheeks again.  You tell him to keep going, so he gets bolder and breaches you, and it feels just like when you did it while washing in the bath: kind of weird, strangely hot, and it makes you want more.

Sanji gives you more, adding fingers and sliding them in and out.  You crumple the bed linen beneath your hands and rock backwards into it like that whore.  You're moaning like him, too, but it's so intense and oddly pleasurable you can't help yourself.  You completely understand why he started begging.  You don't beg, but you do demand in ragged tones that Sanji do something already, damn it.

Sanji shifts behind you, the bed squeaking with his movements.  His fingers leave.  All you can hear is your jagged breathing and the racing of your heart.  A thread of trepidation snakes through you as you know what comes next.  Sweat drips from your forehead to the linen.  You can see your cock hanging heavy and dark with blood between your quivering thighs.  Sanji's hairy leg is visible as he adjusts behind you.

You feel pressure against your asshole that gets harder and harder until there's sort of a pop and the world suddenly zeroes in on your ass.  Sanji's cock is in you.

Sanji's hands scrabble at your hips and there's a bit of a sting as he slams all the way in.  You can feel him pulsing inside of you and realize that he's coming already.  It's really pretty hot, but you're disappointed that it's over when the part you'd been waiting for just started.

Sanji curses and you're amused by the self-direction of it.  You comment on his pathetic lack of stamina, he tells you to fuck off, and while still inside you, reaches around your waist for your cock.  You exhale sharply at the familiar grip.  Sanji's firm strokes have you riding the edge quickly, especially with the change of position.  You hold off much longer than you used to and he's hard again and thrusting shallowly by the time you come.

You collapse onto your elbows.  Sanji gasps a strangled curse, latches onto your hips, and shifts on his knees.  You're gasping for breath as he starts fucking you in earnest.  With your damp forehead pressed against the linen, you watch your cock and balls swing between your legs with every slap of Sanji's pelvis against your ass.  His cock seems huge inside you now, drilling so deep you're surprised you can't taste it.  It's a wild feeling and you can't settle on whether you like it or hate it.  You decide that it's sex and it's Sanji and you no longer care.

It's your turn to be hard again when he comes the second time and you want a go at fucking him.  Your voice is raw when you tell him to move, and maybe you were more vocal than you'd thought.  There's a gross squelching sound when he pulls out, and you feel suddenly very empty, and messy. 

Sanji flops onto the bed between you and the wall.  Spent and panting, he makes a have-at-it gesture and gives you a sloppy grin that says volumes.  Your anticipation skyrockets and you fumble for the oil as Sanji rolls onto his belly.  Fingers first, you tell yourself, though it feels like you have all thumbs.  It's your first time, you want to do it right.

The long lines of Sanji's muscles are lax and his body is unresisting as you slip a slicked finger into him.  Inside, he's warm and soft, and it feels totally different than doing it to yourself.  He mumbles that it's weird, his face pillowed on his folded arms, his left eye peeking through the damp strands of his hair.  He's so flexible that he can lift his ass with the rest of his body spread flat on the bed.  You run your other hand up the length of his thigh, tickling your palm with the hair on his leg, as you slide another finger in.  His soft exhale makes your heart pound.  Your cock twitches impatiently, but you don't do anything about it until he growls at you.

Your nervousness returns full force and knots your insides when you climb over him.  Your mouth runs dry as you line up your oiled cock with his asshole.  You have to blink the sweat out of your eyes and you pretend you don't see your hand shaking.  This is it.  You push in.

And you're really glad to be a pirate.

You get why Sanji came so quickly the first time.  Your eyes cross at the tight, warm clamp around your cock.  Since you saw the whores having sex, you've imagined what it would feel like and it came nothing close to this.  Sanji releases a string of curses when you begin to thrust.  He shoves his ass higher into the air, your name tripping from his lips.  His sharp hips bite into your palms under your clinging grip.  You don't know which way is up any longer; your entire being is focused on your cock.

Your climax hits you like one of Sanji's kicks without much warning.  Orgasm rakes along your spine and you shoot inside him as deep as you can go.  You're not sure you can form words afterwards.  Your heart is slamming against your ribcage.  Your fingers feel welded to Sanji's hips.  You pull out at his direction, collapse on the bed beside him, and gasp like a fish on dry land.  Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Sanji make a face as he shifts and he mutters something about there always being clean up after the best meals.

A laugh bubbles in your chest.  Sanji's looking at you funny and then he squawks when you suddenly slap his bare ass.  You have the urge to yell banzai but manage to not make a total fool of yourself.  It's a close thing, though - you had sex!   

Sanji props his cheek on a fist, grumbles about his cigarettes being too far away, and tells you to stop smiling stupidly and fetch them.  You don't do what he says and end up in a fight that breaks a few things.

You manage to save the oil from destruction, because you're definitely going to need it again.

Now that you've had sex, you want to do it all the time.  You can't, though, because it takes time and space and bathing and supplies, so you have sex when you're able and otherwise try to satisfy yourself with Sanji's mouth or hand.  Sanji doesn't make it easy.  He constantly gives you heavy-lidded looks that go right to your cock.  It makes it difficult when you have to fight, no matter how many fourth sword jokes Sanji makes.

You don't think the rest of the crew knows what's going on between the two of you, or at least they haven't said anything (though Chopper keeps wondering how he uses up his oil supply so quickly).  Nothing's really changed since you started fooling around with him.  He still annoys you like crazy at times and you tend to fight for no reason.  You gravitate to his side when you're in a new place out of habit that you picked up somewhere along the way.  You've always watched his back, just like he watches yours, and maybe your eyes linger a little longer than before when you get to see him in the heat of battle, but that's only because you know what those legs feel like wrapped around you in passion.

When you do have sex, it's usually late at night in the infirmary or down in the hold with the sails.  You've played around and found a bunch of positions that feel good.  You still like it from behind, though, with him at your vulnerable back.  He enjoys it best on his back, his arms and legs binding your body like a snake.  But however you do it you never rush because you don't know when you'll get to do it again.

The lantern gives off just enough light for you to see.  The curtains over the portholes help to shade your privacy.  Sanji writhes under you, head tossing back and forth, his hair matted damply.  The infirmary bed squeaks faintly as you stroke into him.  It's your second go around because you still come too damned fast when you first enter him.  He laughs when you do, and you punish him with a teasing hand on his cock until you're hard again.

His body's practically bent in half beneath you, your weight resting on your elbows under his arms.  He clutches at your shoulders, his heels digging into your back.  He's intoxicating in his abandon, and you watch him unabashedly, biting back your own search for completion.  You like him like this, caught by you, his pleasure at your mercy.  You drag the second time out, possessing him over and over until you see him start to break. 

You whisper his name and he comes, streaking across your belly and his own.  His body tightens around you, and you're broken, too.  You pump your hips faster, driving into him, your climax crashing through your restraints.   

Afterwards, lying beside him as he smokes, too sated to move right away, you talk to keep awake like you always do - you don't need Chopper finding you both naked in the infirmary in the morning.  You ask what's on the menu or mention whatever you're contemplating for your training.  Sanji orders you to go fishing, talks about ways he's going to kick Luffy or Usopp's asses for the new annoyance they've caused, or ponders what the crew will find at the next port.  If he brings up women, you make derogatory remarks about his prowess, and you end up tussling with him until you either damage something or have sex again.  Sometimes you do both.

Eventually, you clean up, get dressed, and wander back to the men's bunk to catch some sleep.  Luffy wakes you for breakfast by trying to eat your arm and it's the usual start of another day.

Things continue on at their normal pace.  Days pass, the weather changes, Marines attack, and some crazy pirate you meet makes you cluck like a chicken for a week.  Overall, you're pretty content with your life.  You have your nakama, you're working towards your dream, and you get off with Sanji one way or the other almost daily. 

And then Sanji kisses you.

You're dozing on the port rail, leaning against the support between the aft decks outside of Chopper's infirmary.  The clink of Sanji's lighter rouses you and you crack open an eye.  He seems to be having trouble getting a flame.  He finally gets it, takes a deep drag, and informs you that it's time for dinner.  You tell him okay, and he takes his cigarette from his mouth, sets his jaw, leans in, and kisses you.

You're so surprised that you jerk away and promptly fall off the rail of the ship.  The water is cold, as you're in an autumn climate, and you sputter as you surface holding tightly to your katanas.  Sanji is laughing hard as he throws you a rope and helps pull you up.  Dripping on the deck, you glare at him, but he only tells you to come and eat dinner and walks away laughing again.

You go into the men's cabin to change your wet clothes, and you have one foot in a new pair of pants when you pause with a frown.  Sanji kissed you.  You thought that only people who were intimate did that, like married couples.  Why would Sanji kiss you?

It confuses you and freaks you out a bit, but Sanji doesn't act any differently at lunch or at any other time after that.  He doesn't kiss you again.  Days turn into weeks, and everything is just like it was before he gave you your first kiss.

You don't know if you like it.  You feel like something's missing, which doesn't make sense since things are just the same.  You fail to put a name to it, even though you try.  It's not the kissing thing because you wouldn't do that without meaning behind it.  You kind of want to ask Sanji what it could be, but you don't because he calls you stupid enough as it is.

It makes you irrationally angry, not knowing.  You find yourself storming into rooms to shout at him, only to have nothing to shout about.  He gives you bemused looks when you do this and invites your company in his usual insulting manner.  You think maybe he knows what's wrong, but then he doesn't say anything, and you don't say anything, and you sulk in a non-sissy way with your cheek propped on your fist at the bar in the galley, eating the bacon he feeds you while he makes breakfast, or you take books off the shelves in the library searching for something to keep your attention while he reads.

Today, you are lying on the padded bench seat beneath the aquarium in the lounge.  You failed again at voicing your anger, set aside your katanas, and sprawled on the bench at his rude urging.  The scratch of Sanji's pencil is the only conversation between you.  You watch the fish swim behind the aquarium glass, brightly colored exotic species you never imagined existed.  It soothes you, as does the scent of cigarette smoke, which drifts overhead whenever he exhales. 

Content and comfortable, you put out of your mind why you came into the lounge to begin with.  The lunch dishes are done, and you don't need to start afternoon training for a while.  When watching the fish gets boring, you raise your arm above your head and grope until you find something fun.  Sanji looks down at you with a crook of his curly eyebrow.  You give him a grin, he slouches further, and you turn on your stomach to undo his zipper.  It's risky to do this in the lounge in the middle of the day when anyone could come in.  That just serves to make it more arousing.

Sanji is heavy and broad on your tongue, and you slurp and suck the way you know he likes.  He leans back on the bench, cigarette arm stretched along the top of the curved seat, his other hand carding through your hair.  You watch him watching you through the fringe of your eyelashes.  He bites on his lower lip and you can tell when he's going to come because his nose scrunches just before his eyelids squeeze shut.  His spunk still doesn't taste good, but swallowing is easier to clean up.

You want to drag him to the hold to have sex, but you settle for his mouth after rearranging yourself on the bench seat.  You drag your hand through his hair, pulling it back so you can see his lips stretched thin around your cock.  He's gotten excellent at this, probably from all his smoking, and you last as long as you can - which still isn't long - before coming down his throat.  He wipes his mouth with his sleeve as he sits up, gives you a knowing smirk, and reaches for the half-smoked cigarette resting in the ashtray.  He chuckles when you tell him to fuck off.

Straightening your pants, you lie back down on the bench with your head on his leg and listen to the pencil start scratching again as you watch the fish swim by.

You're in the galley searching through the refrigerator for the extra piece of pie you know that Sanji saved for you even if he said there was no more at dinner, when Sanji wanders in and gives your ass a kick.  You scowl over your shoulder, he reaches past you and plucks out the pie, and there's enough on the plate for two.  You head towards the bar seat as he fetches forks and rounds the counter.

His sudden shriek scares the crap out of you and you reach for your katana only to catch Sanji when he leaps into your arms.  Somehow, he doesn't lose the pie plate, and you're holding him like a princess as he yells up a storm about the big, huge, fucking gigantic, monster bug on his galley floor.

You look where he's looking and, fuck, it's a pretty damned big bug.  It's at least half the size of Chopper with snapping pincers and wicked teeth.  If you were alone, you might have jumped, too, when you saw it scuttle across the floor.

You shove your heart back down where it belongs.  Sanji is shouting in your ear to be useful for once and kill the damned thing.  You can't kill it when he's in your arms, so you set him safely on the galley table, draw your katana, and attack.

You cleave the bug in two with one strike - it's all size and no strength - and get rid of the corpse parts by tossing them overboard.  You cut through the storage room back into the galley and you see Sanji sitting on the table, his knees drawn to his chest, peering cautiously over the edge at the floor.

The laugh starts somewhere around your feet, rising up through your body until it booms from your throat.  You throw your head back and let it flow.  Sanji is such a tough, rough, foul-talking, ass-kicking man that you always forget how much of a coward he is when it comes to bugs. 

He tells you to shut it and starts to get off the table but changes his mind.  He orders you to make sure there's no more of those shitty creatures in his galley.  You do a quick check, laughing the whole time, and block the kick to your ribs when you get near him.  You take his legs and wrap them around your waist as you step up to the table. 

It's normal, and real, and nothing changes but everything does as what's been missing clicks into place.  It's not just about you, is it?  You've been so focused on yourself that you couldn't truly see that you aren't in this thing alone.  He's touched you, he's experienced the same things as you, and he probably figured out what was happening to you both when this started. 

But you know now.  It's no longer about you, it's something you share, and you know what you have to do.  Embarrassment lurks in the corners of his scowl, he's still holding the pie plate, and you don't think there's ever been a moment more perfect than this.  You cup the sides of his cheeks, your insides shaking, and you lower your mouth and kiss him.

He looks at you afterwards like he's been waiting for that, and maybe sometimes you are a little dumb, but this is another first for you.

You find out later it's all been a first for him, too.