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The chief downside of working at the Baratie, you figure, is the lingering aroma of unwashed pirate.
The job has its perks, don't get it twisted. A kitchen full of world-class chefs means that family meal is always good, at least. Zeff's fair with wages. Sort of. Most of the time. Tips are usually pretty good, too. Sailors are so easy. One low-cut shirt, two well-placed touches, and three bats of your eyelashes and you've brought in enough Bells to pay your way for the next week or two.
And then, you thought, leaning one elbow onto the hostess stand and gazing into the dining room, there's the coworkers.
The sight of Sanji's pert ass, bent over the closest table as he hands out heavy plates of steak, is about the only thing that can take your mind off of the eye-twitchingly rank stench that permeates the restaurant. Propping your chin in one hand, you let your eyes glide over the arch of his back, the curve of his ass under tight slacks, the long, long length of his legs, all the way down to the shiny black Oxfords. He straightens up, frowning at the sight of the four nasty pirates tearing into their perfectly cooked steak. There's a stern cough behind you, and you jolt, jerking your eyes away from Sanji and spinning around to stand ramrod-straight at the hostess stand.
"Welcome to the Baratie," you say with a smile. "Do you have a reservation?" You can practically see the green aura leeching off of the pirate in front of you. Now that you look closer, he might actually have flies buzzing around him. You stifle a gag.
"Yeah," he says gruffly.
You check the books. "Party of six?" He nods, and you look over his shoulder to see five other brainless lumps behind him. "Follow me," you gesture and lead the way into the dining room.
The smell hits you in the face as you cross into the dining room - medium rare steak, shitty booze, and sweaty pirate, a fantastic combination. Skirting by Sanji's section, you make eye contact with him and stick a finger in your mouth, miming throwing up. He eyes the bedraggled string of pirates following you to their table with a grimace and falls into step beside you.
"If you seat these idiots in my section, I'm telling Zeff to fire you."
You look at him sideways. "Zeff's already this close to firing you. You think he'll listen to whatever you have to say?"
"Okay, if you're talking about the incident with the swordfish and bechamel sauce -"
"- You're really gonna get on his shit list if you keep serving food that's off the menu -"
"- If I have to serve one more medium-rare steak, I'm going to throw myself off of this goddamn boat -"
"- Do it, please, it would make my life so much easier -"
"- If I was a less principled man, I'd have something to say about that -"
You stop suddenly in front of the nearest booth. Sanji stares at the wall, breathing heavily with his lips pressed in between his teeth. Smiling sweetly, you wave the pirates into their seats.
"Sanji here will be your server," you say with a grin. "Please let him know if there's anything that he can do to make your visit more comfortable!"
Sanji wrestles his face into what is probably supposed to be a pleasant grin. You place six menus on the table and back away, letting Sanji take over. He grabs your arm and yanks you into his side, turning slightly so that you face away from the booth.
"I can't serve these imbeciles," he hisses. "They reek of rotten fish, I swear I'm going to gag -"
"Don't fuck with me," you scoff. You tug your arm out of his grip and walk backwards toward the hostess stand, keeping eye contact with Sanji. "We both know you like to gag."
Grinning, you watch as the telltale blush spreads north from his shirt collar, up his neck, across his cheeks. Wiping his nose with the back of his hand, he turns back around to talk to his table. Back at the hostess stand, you watch like a hawk as the red flush recede from the back of his neck.
It's his own fault, really. If he wanted to have a decent shift, Sanji should have just been on his best behavior.
Two brunettes and a blonde check in for their 7:00 P.M reservation, and you watch as Sanji's jaw goes slack when he sees the three women, how they're falling out of their dresses. You lead the party straight to the open three-top in his section, keeping eye contact with him the whole time, watching as he straightens his waiter's apron and runs his hands through his hair. At the last possible second, you veer left and seat the women in the far back corner. Sanji stands stock-still in the middle of the dining room floor, surrounded by tables of dirty sailors, face furious.
You wink.
Twenty-seven pirates check in for their 8:00 PM reservation, and with glee, you help them push together five empty tables in the front of the dining room. You corner Sanji in the kitchen, where he's laden down with six plates of steak and potatoes. You lean against the countertop and grab a piece of carrot.
"For the booth of pirates?" you ask, gesturing with the end of your carrot.
Sanji rolls his eyes. "Steak's the only fucking thing that these beasts order - oh, I'm sorry," he gasps, eyes going wide. "I shouldn't use such language around a lady, forgive me -"
"Sanji," you say as you give his back a push and steer him toward the front of house, "Why are we acting like I've never heard you say 'fuck' before?"
He pauses in the middle of the hallway.
"I've heard you say it several times before," you continue, walking around to look him in the eye. "Several times per night, usually. And usually when I've got you bent over, pants at your ankles, with my tongue in your -"
"Stop," he hisses through gritted teeth. His hands are shaking under six ceramic plates of medium-rare steak and potatoes.
You step forward, bringing your faces just inches apart. Slowly, you drag your eyes down the front of Sanji's body, past his long, pale neck, down the row of shiny buttons on the front of his shirt, down to his apron. You bring your eyes back up to meet his and bring your hands to his waist.
"Apron's messed up," you coo. Keeping the eye contact, you wrap your hands around his waist, feeling for the apron ties in the back. You redo the knot, relishing in the full-body shudder that wracks through his body when you pull the apron taut with a jerk. Task complete, you drag your hands across his hips, back to the front of his pants, where you let your hands linger as you adjust the apron. Sanji's jaw muscles flex as he swallows hard.
Biting your lip in a smile, you smack his ass and step away. "Oh, and I just seated a twenty-seven top."
"I feel for the poor server that has to deal with them."
"Yeah, you're never going to believe whose section I sat them in."
You watch the angry flush creep up onto his face again. Your grin widens as you watch his eye twitch, just once.
"You wouldn't do that to me," he says pathetically.
"I," you respond, holding the door into the dining room, "Will do anything to you that I please."
Sanji rotates, using his back to help prop open the door as he walks through. "I consider it to be a point of pride that I've never been provoked to hit a woman, but I swear, you test me."
"Don't kid." You cross your arms and follow him to the six smelly pirates' booth. "You're perfectly happy to let me do anything to you that I please." Reaching over, you grab a hot plate off of his arms and set it in front of Smelly Pirate Number Three. "I'm off at closing tonight, by the way."
You watch a single bead of sweat traces its way from Sanji's hairline down the length of his jaw. "Good to know."
"Will I be seeing you then?"
"Yes ma'am," he breathes. Satisfied, you spin on one heel and stride back to the hostess stand.
It's half an hour after closing until Sanji cracks open the door to his bunkroom. One thin band of light illuminates the dark room, throwing your figure, stretched out on Sanji's bunk, into relief. He sticks his head into the room, breaking up the line of light and silhouetting his face. You watch as his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows.
Lazily - because really, what's the hurry? - you slide from the bed onto the plank flooring and stand in the doorway, weight on one leg, hip cocked, arms crossed under your tits. There's a faint wet noise, the sound of spit in Sanji's mouth, as he swallows again, harder.
"Are you coming in?"
The hinges creak as Sanji opens the door further and steps inside. Closing the door with a click, he leans against the doorframe, hands on the wall, breathing heavily. You take another step forward.
"It's dark in here." His voice breaks the tenuous silence.
"Does that bother you?"
"I want to be able to see you," he responds, quiet in the dark.
You flick open a cigarette lighter, and the small flame roars to life inside the small room. One side of your face, the slope of your shoulder, the swell of your tit comes into focus, and you watch the way that Sanji's eyes soak up your skin as it flickers in the flamelight. He pulls a cigarette out of his back pocket, sticks it between his teeth, and leans in to the lighter, eyes never leaving yours as his cigarette lights up flame-orange. With a sigh, he exhales, blowing smoke into the room, and lets his head thunk back against the wall. You cut the lighter and the room goes dark, save for the small orange glow at the end of Sanji's cigarette.
"I want to see you more," he says, small, blowing smoke into your face. You trace one hand from his shoulder, down his arm, enjoying the feel of his starched shirt. You bring your hands together, letting his fingers tangle with your own, and he takes a long drag in on his cigarette. Slowly, you bring both your hands up to one tit, letting his fingers fall naturally and cup you. He squeezes, just once, and lets his thumb brush over your hard nipple. The cigarette shakes between his lips.
Tightening your grip, you pull Sanji's hand downwards, running his palm down the cool, smooth skin of your stomach. His hand flexes, extending and relaxing over your ribs, and you hear his breath come shaky in the dark room. You pull him down further, over your navel, until his hand hits the warm leather and cool silicone of your strap-on. The cigarette wobbles again and he whimpers, a small noise in his throat.
Keeping your hand over his, you mold his fingers around the shape of the dildo, pushing his hand up the length of the dildo, then down. Up, then down. He breathes out shakily, and you keep your hand on his, setting the pace, keeping his movements slow. You bring your other hand up to your chest, feeling the heat of your blood pumping and the chill of your skin, pinching a nipple between finger and thumb. Your cunt throbs traitorously, like your body can feel the way that Sanji jerks your cock.
"I want -"
You breathe out slowly as you roll your nipple between your fingers, fighting the urge to fuck your hips forward into Sanji's fist. "What do you want?"
He speeds up the pace at which he jerks you off. You let him. "I want to -" The cigarette shakes dangerously, and ash drops onto your conjoined hands.
"I want to…" You move your hand from your tit to his chin, grabbing it and bringing his face level with your own. "You want to… what? Use your words, baby, I can't - did I say stop touching my cock?" Sanji chokes and restarts the pace, a slow drag of his rough palm against the silicone, and you hear the swish of his starched shirtsleeves as he moves his arm up and down, up and down.
"Good job, baby," you simper, stroking his cheekbone with your thumb. "Let's try this again. What do you want?"
"I want -" The sharp lines of his jaw quiver in the flickering light from his cigarette. "Let me suck it, please."
You remove your hand from his, enjoying the gentle rock of the harness as Sanji keeps the pace without your guidance. Gently, you pluck the cigarette from his lips and stick it between your own, taking a long drag. You slide a thumb into his mouth, enjoying the feel of his rough, slick tongue under your finger, the presence of his teeth at the base of your thumb.
"This is practice, baby." Sanji moans, high-pitched, as you press down on his tongue. "Open up." He does so without question, and you slide your second thumb into his mouth. Your fingers cup his face, resting at his jawline, and you squeeze just a bit right below his ears. He moans again, louder, and tips his head back against the door to give your fingers better access to his neck. You smile as a thin line of drool leaks out of his stuffed mouth and slides down his chin. You lean in and flick your tongue up his chin, cleaning up the spit, and he whimpers around your fingers.
You remove your thumbs from Sanji's mouth with a wet squelch and he sighs at the sudden emptiness. Sticking his cigarette back in his mouth and your finger in his waistband, you pull him backwards until your knees hit his bunk. You fall backwards, and he follows. You shimmy backwards until you lean back on the headboard, legs out in front of you, strap-on standing at attention. Sanji hovers around your knees, cheeks red in the light of his cigarette, waiting for directions.
He places one tentative hand on your cock, runs his thumb around the tip. "Please, haven't I been good? Please, I can suck it so well, can I -"
"Strip," you interrupt, popping the 'p.' Reaching up, you take his cigarette again and place it between your lips.
Sanji brings both hands up to his starched collar and undoes the first button. The white of his undershirt stands out in the dusky room. He undoes another button, exposing more undershirt. Another button. He works slowly, moving south, until his hands are at his waistband.
The zip of his fly is loud in the quiet room. He undoes the button, then pushes his pants down to his knees. Shifting his weight on the bed, he kicks off one leg, then the other, until the pants are puddled on the floor. His newly exposed shirttail falls over his hips, covering him completely. He brings his hands back to the shirt buttons that cover his crotch and unbuttons one, then the next, then the next, until his shirt is completely unfastened. He drops his hands, and the shirt falls open at his sides to reveal -
"Oh, baby," you whisper. Your voice echoes around the bunkroom. "All this for me?"
Tucked under his undershirt and framed by his opened buttondown, white lace panties sit low on Sanji's hips. His cock bulges obscenely out of the thin cotton, and the tip, flushed an angry red, pokes hard and leaking out of the waistband. His balls hang low, barely contained by the panties' gusset. Your breath comes shallowly, a little raspy, as you take in the way that the panties pin his cock against the flat of his stomach. You take another drag on the cigarette.
Sanji shrugs off the buttondown and pulls the undershirt over his head, baring his chest to the cold room. You watch, captivated, as his nipples pebble and the pinky blush, barely visible in the dark, spreads down his chest. He heaves one breath, then two, as he kneels in the weight of your gaze.
"You're so beautiful." You reach up to place the cigarette back between his lips and run one knuckle up his jawline. You let your eyes and your hands move down at the same time - down the length of his neck, down the jut of his collarbone, over one hard nipple, down the skin that stretches across his ribs, down his abs, until your fingers rest just above the panties' waistband.
Sanji keeps his eyes trained on your hand the entire time.
"I'm a lucky woman, Sanji," you say into the dark room. One finger traces a loop around his navel, and he shivers and swallows down a whimper. You bring your hand down to his inner thigh and squeeze, letting your thumb rub into the crease between his thigh and the panties' lacy edge. He sinks his weight onto your thighs and leans back, letting his arms hold him upright. He opens his legs a few inches more, pushing his weeping cock closer to your warm hand.
"Oh, did you want me to touch you?" You act confused, and Sanji groans, low in his throat.
"Yes, ma'am."
You slide your hand down his leg, towards his thigh. "I thought - I thought you were about to suck me off," you respond with a frown. Grasping your cock firmly, you start up a slow rhythm, up-down-up-down, jerking off the dildo. Sanji's eyes are glued to the head, watching how it emerges from your fist as you push your hand down towards the base. "If you don't want my cock, that's fine, I guess, but -"
"No," Sanji cuts in. You raise your eyebrows. "No please, I do want it, really, but -"
"But?"
He shoves his hips forward along your thighs, inching closer to your strap-on. "Please, just touch me, I need it, please."
"If you say so, baby." You bring your hand back to his thigh and slide it, so slowly, towards the lacey edge of his panties. "Do you want me to touch you like this?"
He tips his head back and blows a thin line of smoke towards the ceiling. "Yes, please, thank you."
"Perfect." You reverse the course, moving your hand back towards his knee. "This is all you want? A hand rubbing your thigh? You're easier than I thought, Sanji."
"No!" He gasps as you slide your palm back along his inner thigh.
"No? You're not grateful?"
He exhales shakily as you move your hand back down his thigh. "I need - more - please, can you - just a touch, that's all I want, really, just that much, can you give it to me? Please, please, I want it so bad -"
"Demanding, princess," you warn. You run one knuckle up the length of his cock, from the base to the tip.
Sanji shudders violently, a full-body shake, as his orgasm rips through him. His hands fist the bedsheets as his hips jerk forward, chasing the ghost of your touch. He gasps, high-pitched, and exhales a breathy moan as he shoots cum onto his stomach. It drips, warm and sticky, onto the white lacy panties and down, further, onto his thigh. His shoulders shake as he ruts his hips against your thighs, once, twice, and then his body stills.
The surprise of his sudden climax shocks you out of your persona. "Did you just…"
"I didn't mean to, I swear." Sanji takes another huff of the cigarette. "I just…"
You tilt your head. "Just what?"
"You make me crazy," he sighs. "One touch, and I'm…" His voice trails off.
Grinning, you grab a towel off of the shelf and wipe around Sanji's thighs, being careful around his sensitive cock. Reaching up, you grip his chin in one hand and direct his eyes down to yours. Cigarette smoke hovers between you two in the dark room.
"Keep going?"
"Yes, please," he breathes.
"Can I open you up?"
He nods.
"Turn around."
Sanji spins and shuffles backwards until he's kneeling above your stomach, staring at the footboard. At your gesture, he drops onto his hands and knees. You yank the panties down his thighs, letting his cock hang soft and wet above your strap-on. You grab lube off of the nightstand and smear it onto your fingers. With your dry hand, you grip one asscheck and spread him open, running your thumb over his tight rim. Sanji shakes under your touch.
Keeping him spread, ass exposed to the cold room, you bring one lubed finger to his hole. He shifts his weight forward onto his hands as you work it in up to the knuckle.
"Good?"
"Keep going. Please."
He exhales around the cigarette as you push your finger in further. You pull out, leaving just the tip inside, and push back in again, watching his hole swallow up your finger. In-out, in-out, and he hisses as you wiggle your finger.
"Still good?"
"Sensitive."
"Keep going? Two fingers?"
He breathes out. "Yeah. Yes."
Gently, you work the second finger in alongside the first. You scissor your fingers, watching as his rim expands and contracts, as it remembers how to be stuffed full. You pull out, all the way out this time, and watch Sanji cant his hips back, wanted to be filled up. The waistband of his panties is stretched taut and cuts into his thighs where you yanked them down, creating red marks. You snap the elastic against his skin, and he groans into the mattress.
You shove two fingers in again.
"Already, baby?" You laugh as he pushes his hips back to meet your thrust. "Just came, and you're already this hungry for my cock?"
"Yes," he pants as he rocks forward. "Yes, please, I can take it so good, let me show you -"
You let go of his asscheek and watch it jiggle as he humps back into your fingers. "You're not ready yet, baby. Just a little more."
He snaps his hips forward, freeing your sticky, lubed fingers to the air, then fucks himself back onto your fingers. With a creak of the bedsprings, he drops his weight onto his arms and tilts his ass up into the air. You watch as his cock begins to chub up, just a bit, and swing against your strap-on. Sanji moans, but it's a muffled, aborted noise. He's got his face pressed into his arms, you realize.
You smack his ass. "Stop that. Face up."
He pulls his head out from his arms right as you work in a third finger, and the surprise from the sudden fullness punches out a moan. Shoving himself backwards, he takes three fingers like it's what he was made to do. He snaps his hips forward, and the cool air hits the warm lube on your fingers, and he humps backwards, and his hole sucks your fingers in. You watch between his legs as his soft little cock begins to fill out, as his abs contract with each thrust, as sweat runs down his neck.
"Can I -"
"No," he pants as he rocks back onto your fingers. "No, not yet. Too -" he gasps as the tip of his cock brushes the tip of your silicone dildo, "Too sensitive."
"Okay, baby. Here. Sit up." You pull his hips down until he's kneeling with a thigh on either side of your stomach, your fingers still buried inside his ass. At this angle, his cock stands half-hard right beside your strap-on. You tilt your hips up, and Sanji whimpers as your cock brushes against his own. He looks back over his shoulder at you, waiting for instructions.
"Play with your little cock, princess." He lets out a shuddery moan. "And ride my fingers." His back is to you, but you can feel the harness shift when he grips both your dildo and his cock in one fist. You let your head thunk back against the headboard as he grinds down into your fingers, snapping his hips forward. There's a translucent ring of lube where your fingers get swallowed up by his hole, and you watch as Sanji humps backwards, taking your fingers even deeper, then rocks forward to push his cock into his fist. The sway of his hips and the curve of his ass feels magical. You can't look away.
In the dark room, and with his back to you, you can't see how his cock slides messily against the silicone, so touch takes over. You bring one hand up to his hips, helping push him on and off of your fingers, and bring the other hand to where he frots against your strap-on. You feel the warm press of the silicone, the hard heat of Sanji, the wetness of his precum as he leaks over his hand, the strength of his knuckles as he fists both cocks. He moans as you rub your thumb over his wet tip and fucks his hips up into your hand. Before he can fully enjoy the touch, you release him, and he groans at the loss.
"I can't last much longer," Sanji gasps.
"We don't want a repeat of what happened in the panties, do we?" He chokes at the slight humiliation. "Suck my cock, baby."
He pulls himself off of your fingers, and you watch, as best you can in the dim room, as his hole contracts with the sudden emptiness. Under your gaze, he slides down the bed until his hot mouth hovers right over your cock. You pluck the cigarette out of his mouth and stick it between your teeth.
"What are you waiting for?"
Sanji swallows your cock down.
You watch, mind dulled by the smoke, as he takes the dildo down to the base. His lips wrap perfectly around the silicone, stretching his mouth wide. You rest a hand on his throat carefully, feeling him gag as he slobbers on your cock. He pulls off with a wet smack, panting, and licks one long stripe from harness to silicone tip. His ass hovers in the air as he lays between your legs.
You blink stupidly a few times to take in the sight.
His tongue hangs out of his mouth, and a line of spit falls from his tongue to the tip of your cock. You thumb at his lips, wiping away the residual drool, and push him back down, gently, onto the dildo. He licks up each side, letting his tongue play, slicking up the smooth surface.
Your pussy throbs again, craving the heat from Sanji's wet mouth. All you can hear is your breath in your ears and the squelch of his tongue against your cock.
Sanji swallows the dildo again, and you feel the harness shift when he presses his tongue flat against the underside, dragging up, leaving a long, wet line. Teetering on the edge, unable to take any more, you fist your hand in Sanji's hair and pull him off of your cock. He moans unabashedly at the force and looks up at you through his eyelashes, his spitty, drooly chin hovering around the tip of the dildo.
"Is it slick enough? Can you take it?"
He plants one hand on either side of your hips. "Yes."
"Just yes? That's all you have to say? You ride my fingers, slobber all over my cock, moan like a ten-cent prostitute, and when I ask if you want my cock, all you can say is yes?"
You tighten your grip on his hair, watching the way his breath hitches.
"Beg for it."
"Please," he breathes. "Please, please, let me have it, I'll ride it so good, I'll make you so happy, please, I need it, I've never needed anything more, I want it -"
You tug his hair up towards your face. "Take what you need, baby."
"Thank you, Mommy," Sanji whimpers as he walks his knees up to your hips. He lifts up one leg, then the next, so you can push the panties down his thighs and onto the floor. You push his blonde hair off of his sweaty forehead. His strong, muscled thighs hold up him as he places both hands on the headboard, his hole hovering just above your cock.
Taking another long drag on the cigarette, you exhale smoke into the dark room and line up the slick strap-on with Sanji's lubed-up hole. You place your other hand on his narrow waist, guiding him down onto your cock. The tip slips in and he breathes out a noisy sigh, pausing on the descent. His thighs quiver as he holds himself up, challenging his body to take the pleasure at a slow pace.
You rub one finger at the juncture between Sanji's slick rim and the silicone, watching his eyes squeeze shut as he lowers himself further onto your cock, inch by inch. The muscles in his thighs shake as he keeps a controlled pace. He bottoms out, and his ass hits your hips with a slap.
The two of you breathe together as he sits, speared on your cock, your chests rising and falling at the same pace. He squirms a bit, and his cock bobs in midair. You watch the way it sways, mesmerized.
Smoothing one thumb over his waist, you break the silence. "Can you move?"
"Can I? Please?"
"Fuck yourself on my cock, baby. Please."
Sanji lifts himself up and drops himself back onto the dildo with a whine. He sets a steady pace, dragging himself up off your cock agonizingly slow and spearing himself onto your cock with a smack of skin again skin. You keep your hands on his hips, helping him up, pulling him down onto the dildo. He feels tiny between your hands. Breakable. Precious.
"Fuck," he moans as he sinks down onto your cock. He lets his head loll back, and you watch the way the muscles in his long neck work as he swallows. With a slap, he drops himself down again and whimpers when his pink tip slaps against his stomach with the impact. It leaves a sticky line on his abs.
Sanji's grip tightens on the headboard as he pistons himself up-and-down, up-and-down, unable to do anything except use your cock to chase his release. There's something special about it, you think. Sanji's strong, and capable, and fiery, and smart, but all it takes is a woman with a sharp tongue and a fake dick to reduce him to what he is now: a whiny, slobbery, brainless mess.
It's a good look on him.
"Cigarette," he gasps as he ruts back down onto your cock.
You take one last drag on the cigarette and place it neatly back between Sanji's lips. He inhales as he lifts himself up and breathes out as he fucks himself down, blowing smoke into the few inches between your face and his. You watch the way that his face screws up, illuminated by the faint orange glow from the lit cigarette, the way that his abs tense, the way that his cock hangs between your bodies, the way that his legs shake with exertion.
"Close, baby?"
"Yeah," Sanji gasps. He's white-knuckling the headboard now, doing his best to keep both hands off of his needy, weeping cock.
"Tell me you don't need my hand. All you need is my cock, right, princess?"
He grinds his hips forward, fully seated on your cock, whimpering and panting and sweating. "All I need is your cock," he echoes. He grips the headboard tighter, fights the urge to hump into your stomach. His cock bobs pitifully.
"Then get off on my cock, baby. I know you can do it."
He groans, aroused and frustrated and right on the edge of release, and lifts himself off the dildo. Setting a frenzied pace, irregular, arhythmic, he lets himself go as he fights his way towards climax. His balls smack against your stomach as he rides, and the pain-pleasure makes him whine, loud in the dusky bunkroom.
"I… can't…" he pants. He drops his head into your shoulder, wanting to be even closer.
"Can't what?" You squeeze one asscheek and stretch him open, letting one finger feel the way that his rim catches on the head of your cock.
"I need something else." Sanji sinks back down with a slap of skin again skin, groaning as the dildo hits that perfect spot inside. "Please, Mommy, anything, I need to cum, please -"
He trails off into a high-pitched moan as you wrap your hand fully around his cock. Overwhelmed by the sudden touch, he tips his head back and stays seated, his hips flush against yours, as you jerk him off. He pants, mouth open, tongue spit-wet, with each push and pull of your hand.
You speed up the pace, watching his flushed pink tip disappear into your fist on each thrust. "You gonna cum, baby?"
"Yes," Sanji gasps. "Yes, yes, yes, yes, thank you, yes -" He thrusts forward and spills into your hand with a groan. His hips piston into your fist as his body shudders through the orgasm, and you run one finger around his hole as it clenches around your dildo. Moving your hand down to place a soothing hand on his shaking thigh, you keep your fist tight around his cock, wringing the last drops of his orgasm from his body.
"So good, Sanji," you whisper. "You're made for this." You unclench your hand from his cock and carefully wipe the cum off of your fist and dab around his soft, wet cock. He shivers with the contact.
As you toss the towel onto the floor, he pulls at the harness' buckles. You look at him, eyebrows raised, and he yanks harder. With one hand, you grab the cigarette from between his lips and stick it back between your teeth.
"Go ahead, baby."
Sanji unclicks the harness and, as you lift your hips, shoves it off your legs. He slides backwards down the bed and noses at your pussy, letting his tongue dance at the crease between your inner thigh and your slit. With his cheek resting against your thigh, he looks up at you expectantly.
"Can I?"
"Please do, princess."
Without warning, he sits back on his heels and yanks your legs up onto his shoulders, until your cunt sits right at his chin. He tilts his head down and licks a long, wet line, letting his tongue flick across your clit. You clench your jaw with the effort not to cum from just the one touch.
"I'm not going to last, Sanji," you say between gritted teeth. He responds by wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking. Your hips jerk, pushing your pussy further into his hot mouth, but he keeps you in place with two strong hands on your thighs.
You feel him drop his jaw, exposing his tongue, and you take the invitation. Bracing your hands on the bed, you rock your hips up onto his tongue, riding his face. His eyebrows furrow in concentration as you rut into his face with uncharacteristic enthusiasm.
It's his fault, really. You've been on edge since he started jerking your strap an hour ago. It's his fault for being so fucking perfect, his fault that you're going to cum from, like, a minute of head.
"I," you pant, "I'm close," he tightens his grips on your thighs, "I," he pulls you impossibly closer onto his tongue, "ohfuckSanji," you whine as he sucks at your clit and you pitch head-first into orgasm. Your hips jerk up and your abs clench as Sanji lets you fuck his face through your release. You press your shoulders down into the bed for better leverage, groaning through your teeth as you ride out the aftershocks.
Sanji takes one leg, then the other, down from his shoulders and lays them on the bunk. He stares down at you, relaxed, calm, something near happy, as you lie on the bed and catch your breath.
"You're good at this." He reaches over and takes the final drag on the cigarette, then crushes the burnt end in the ashtray.
"I've had some practice," you sigh. "Some life experiences, y'know."
He lies down beside you, shoulder-to-shoulder on the small bunk. "I wish I had more life experiences."
You snort. "Don't worry, princess. I'm sure that some day, some smelly pirate will come and sweep you away from all of this."
"Why the fuck would I want to be a pirate?"
"Don't know," you acknowledge. "There's freedom in it, I guess. Freedom to be whoever you want to be. Freedom to, I don't know, chase your dreams. Make friends. Love however and whoever you want."
He exhales slowly. "You make it sound so easy."
"Freedom to wear panties as often as your heart desires."
"Why the fuck would I want to wear panties on a pirate ship?"
You look over at him, eyebrows raised. "Why the fuck did you wear panties to serve medium-rare steaks to pirates today?"
"Touche."
"Thought so."