Salmon Pink (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
salmon_pink) wrote2014-09-29 08:12 pm
salmon_pink) wrote2014-09-29 08:12 pm
(One Piece) Helping Hand
Title: Helping Hand
Fandom: One Piece
Pairing: Benn/Shanks
Rating: NC-17
Words: 387
Notes: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
writers_choice, prompt "lend a hand".
The crew’s been teasing him mercilessly, of course. Lucky Roo has even been cutting up Shanks’ food for him, making a great show of it, never mind that the man eats his own meat straight off the bone. Every one-handed joke imaginable, he’s pretty sure he’s heard them all by now, and Shanks laughs along with them, because it’s damn ridiculous that for everything he’s been through, he lost his arm to an oversized eel.
The only one who doesn’t laugh is Benn. He just rolls his eyes and ignores every bad pun, cigarette hanging between his teeth and rifle slung over his shoulder.
Of course, that doesn’t mean he isn’t paying attention to Shanks’ situation.
He’s probably paying the most attention out of all of them.
Shanks appreciates it, he really does, but the thing is that Benn strokes him so slow, never as fast as Shanks needs it. His hand grips Shanks’ cock tight and firm, and when Shanks tries to buck his hips up, tries to force the pace, Benn responds by slowing down, which is so damn evil Shanks is starting to worry about the man’s morality.
Shanks grumbles as his latest attempt at getting Benn to speed up fails, sinking down petulantly in the circle of Benn’s arms. His back to Benn’s chest and stomach, getting a little bit lost in the way Benn’s fingers are longer than his own, in the way his calluses are in different places.
Benn’s thumb presses down against his slit, making Shanks moan, getting him nice and wet. Twisting his wrist now on every upstroke, and Shanks pants and murmurs encouragement. Reaching his good hand out to lace through the fingers of the hand that isn’t working him expertly, letting his head fall back against Benn’s shoulder, feeling the curve of Benn’s smirk against his neck.
“You know you don’t have to do this, right?” he offers, merely a token protest because there’s no way he’s going to survive Benn stopping.
“I know,” Benn replies easily, voice a deep rumble. “But I want to.”
Shanks chuckles, low and throaty, tilting his head until he can press his lips to Benn’s cheek. “Taking advantage of an invalid,” he mutters, and Benn laughs, clever fingers making Shanks groan and gasp, lost arm forgotten to the waves of pleasure.
Fandom: One Piece
Pairing: Benn/Shanks
Rating: NC-17
Words: 387
Notes: For
writers_choice, prompt "lend a hand".The crew’s been teasing him mercilessly, of course. Lucky Roo has even been cutting up Shanks’ food for him, making a great show of it, never mind that the man eats his own meat straight off the bone. Every one-handed joke imaginable, he’s pretty sure he’s heard them all by now, and Shanks laughs along with them, because it’s damn ridiculous that for everything he’s been through, he lost his arm to an oversized eel.
The only one who doesn’t laugh is Benn. He just rolls his eyes and ignores every bad pun, cigarette hanging between his teeth and rifle slung over his shoulder.
Of course, that doesn’t mean he isn’t paying attention to Shanks’ situation.
He’s probably paying the most attention out of all of them.
Shanks appreciates it, he really does, but the thing is that Benn strokes him so slow, never as fast as Shanks needs it. His hand grips Shanks’ cock tight and firm, and when Shanks tries to buck his hips up, tries to force the pace, Benn responds by slowing down, which is so damn evil Shanks is starting to worry about the man’s morality.
Shanks grumbles as his latest attempt at getting Benn to speed up fails, sinking down petulantly in the circle of Benn’s arms. His back to Benn’s chest and stomach, getting a little bit lost in the way Benn’s fingers are longer than his own, in the way his calluses are in different places.
Benn’s thumb presses down against his slit, making Shanks moan, getting him nice and wet. Twisting his wrist now on every upstroke, and Shanks pants and murmurs encouragement. Reaching his good hand out to lace through the fingers of the hand that isn’t working him expertly, letting his head fall back against Benn’s shoulder, feeling the curve of Benn’s smirk against his neck.
“You know you don’t have to do this, right?” he offers, merely a token protest because there’s no way he’s going to survive Benn stopping.
“I know,” Benn replies easily, voice a deep rumble. “But I want to.”
Shanks chuckles, low and throaty, tilting his head until he can press his lips to Benn’s cheek. “Taking advantage of an invalid,” he mutters, and Benn laughs, clever fingers making Shanks groan and gasp, lost arm forgotten to the waves of pleasure.