Yes, it has a sequel. Horrors.
Title: Nine
Series: One Piece
One Piece: not mine.
Rating: R for language and Sanji and Luffy's unusual abilities.
Summary: Sanji desires vengeance and has a question of his own.
Notes: The continuation of "Six."
The question was not so much whether Luffy could do it, but if it had occurred to him that he could.
Sanji hadn’t had much else to do besides thinking while he was stuck lying flat on his back. He’d plotted out revenge on Zoro his first day. More minor revenge on Usopp had been plotted out over his morning tea the second day. Chopper’s obvious guilt was enough punishment as far as Sanji was concerned, and he’d forgiven the little reindeer quickly. Thorough revenge for whoever was using his pots and pans to make this crap that passed for breakfast had occupied most of that morning, only to be wasted when he discovered that Nami had fixed breakfast that day. His Nami-san was probably so distracted by her grief and rage over his injury that it had affected the food.
Revenge on Usopp had also been cancelled after the sharpshooter had taken a few hours the second day to come down here and play cards with him. Usopp had been the first person to pause long enough in their busy lives to think that he, Sanji, might be wasting away from boredom due to his enforced inactivity.
Usopp went back on the “Fucking Bastards” list shortly afterwards when his lovely Nami-san came to visit and couldn’t stop giggling at him and asking him what he needed women for. Sanji had gotten up to go kick his ass and found out the hard way that two days of sitting still weren’t enough to fix his back. He’d have been angrier about that, but his lovely Nami-san had been the one to help him back into bed.
After that excitement, there really hadn’t been much else for Sanji to do with himself. Robin-chan had lent him some books, wonderful woman that she was, but he could really only read for so long before he started craving physical activity. So then, all he had left was thinking and seeing how slowly he could smoke his last few cigarettes.
The question had come to Sanji at the tail end of the first week while he was meditating on the stupidity of Zoro for goading him into trying to do that. It had hit him right between the eyes and made him blink. He didn’t know if he really wanted to be thinking about his captain that way, but he couldn’t help it. Was Luffy actually as innocent as he appeared? Or had he explored the more interesting possibilities of his rubber body?
He wouldn’t even need to bend over…he could just stretch his neck down…or…
No. Sanji did not want to think about stretchy rubber penises. There are some parts of a human body that Devil Fruit should not affect, and that was one of them.
But he can do macramé with his fingers, thought Sanji. He then wondered how much boiling water he’d have to pour in his ear to get the idea of his captain doing decorative knotwork with his genitalia out of his head.
There was only one good way to deal with this poisonous question.
He innocently asked it of Zoro when the swordsman stuck his head in to laugh at him the next day. The expression on the swordsman’s face made it entirely worth it. Sweet vengeance was Sanji’s at last, and it was a bit more appropriate than the maiming and beating he’d had planned.
Unfortunately, the question, once asked, refused to go away. It hung thick between Zoro and Sanji, demanding an answer. And Sanji suddenly found that he really wanted to know whether or not he was the only guy on board to have gone down on himself.
Fortune smiled (or perhaps spat) upon the two curious men, for Luffy came ricocheting down the staircase and into the small of Zoro’s back, knocking the swordsman to the ground. Luffy went bouncing along the floor and came to a stop next to Sanji’s bed. He thrust something into Sanji’s hand, plopped his head on the bed, and smiled an utterly angelic smile.
The “something” proved to be meat. On a bone. Luffy’s favorite. What a kind gesture! Sanji felt seriously touched, as he had a secret weakness for affection involving gifts of food.
Luffy unfortunately ruined it by opening his mouth and permitting words to come out. “Nami said you’d feel better with a bone in your mouth, so I brought one just for you! Eat that and get better fast, Sanji!” Sanji’s mind, incapable of accepting that his Nami-san had just carefully manufactured and then sent him this bouncing bundle of inadvertent sexual innuendo, automatically blamed Zoro for it. He glared at the sprawled marimo-head over Luffy’s hat, and made up his mind.
“Thank you, Luffy. Nami-san is full of sweet thoughts, isn’t she?” Zoro made gagging noises in the background as he peeled himself off the floor. Sanji ignored him in favor of smiling at Luffy and saying, “You know, the idiot swordsman here was just wondering if you’ve ever done the same thing that I did. He has a suspicious penchant for asking questions like that, doesn’t he?” The look of rage and utter mortification from Zoro was fantastic. The look of blank confusion from Luffy was…not-so-fantastic.
“What? What did you do, Sanji? Whatwhatwhat?” Sanji realized in horror that Luffy had either missed hearing Usopp’s story or missed the point of Usopp’s story. Oh, bloody fuck. Now he had to explain the concept of autofellatio to his captain.
Zoro, bastard that he was, didn’t miss the opportunity to turn the tables. “Sanji,” he declared, malice and satisfaction slathered thickly over his voice like butter on a warm dinner roll, “can give himself a blow job. He was wondering if you’ve ever done the same. I guess Sanji doesn’t want to feel lonely, eh?”
“What? Oh! Yeah. Ace asked me that when I was thirteen, so I gave it a try. It’s not bad, but it’s a lot of work. How do you bend like that, Sanji? You didn’t eat a Gum-Gum Fruit! I want to see!” Sanji knew his face had to be fluorescent red by now, and Zoro was grinning and making “I win, shitty cook” gestures with his hands.
“He’s got to fold himself in half. How do you think he threw out his back?” Zoro said, visibly savoring his victory snatched from the jaws of embarrassment.
Luffy whirled and asked excitedly, “Can you do it, Zoro?”
“No! Fuck, I don’t bend like that,” Zoro snapped. He started to say something else, but then stopped. Sanji realized something wonderful: Zoro was biting off comments about Sanji’s flexibility and probable sexual implications thereof when he reminded himself that his captain could do the same thing. Oh, this was good.
“Have you ever tried?” Luffy pestered further, curiosity burning bright in his eyes.
“Do tell, marimo-head,” Sanji said, smirking. He leaned forward, winced, and laid back. He didn’t stop grinning evilly at the shitty swordsman. He was going to win after all.
“No! I’m not a-er, I don’t-just NO!” Zoro growled, taking a small step back.
“How do you know if you’ve never tried, shitty swordsman?” Sanji asked, lighting up a fresh cigarette. This was delicious. This was marvelous. This was nearly better than sex. It was like playing Luffy-ping-pong and nailing Zoro right in the forehead with their “ball.”
Luffy stretched out his arms, grabbed Zoro, and said, “Let’s help him, Sanji!”
Zoro damn near yelped out a “NO!”
Final volley, game point, Sanji for the win. “Not gonna turn down a challenge, are you, marimo?”
The question made Zoro freeze just long enough for Luffy to wrap his fingers around the back of Zoro’s neck and yank sharply down.
Sanji and Luffy learned that Zoro, sadly, really didn’t bend that way. They also learned that Zoro with a sprained neck made Chopper very, very, very bitchy, mostly because Zoro with a sprained neck was also very, very, very bitchy and most stubborn about continuing his training even when it made him go “Ow!” after every rep. Usopp spun a fantastic story out of Zoro’s failure, and Sanji spent the rest of his recovery in a far better mood.
After all, it wasn’t Sanji’s fault that Zoro just wasn’t man enough to suck his own dick.
Series: One Piece
One Piece: not mine.
Rating: R for language and Sanji and Luffy's unusual abilities.
Summary: Sanji desires vengeance and has a question of his own.
Notes: The continuation of "Six."
The question was not so much whether Luffy could do it, but if it had occurred to him that he could.
Sanji hadn’t had much else to do besides thinking while he was stuck lying flat on his back. He’d plotted out revenge on Zoro his first day. More minor revenge on Usopp had been plotted out over his morning tea the second day. Chopper’s obvious guilt was enough punishment as far as Sanji was concerned, and he’d forgiven the little reindeer quickly. Thorough revenge for whoever was using his pots and pans to make this crap that passed for breakfast had occupied most of that morning, only to be wasted when he discovered that Nami had fixed breakfast that day. His Nami-san was probably so distracted by her grief and rage over his injury that it had affected the food.
Revenge on Usopp had also been cancelled after the sharpshooter had taken a few hours the second day to come down here and play cards with him. Usopp had been the first person to pause long enough in their busy lives to think that he, Sanji, might be wasting away from boredom due to his enforced inactivity.
Usopp went back on the “Fucking Bastards” list shortly afterwards when his lovely Nami-san came to visit and couldn’t stop giggling at him and asking him what he needed women for. Sanji had gotten up to go kick his ass and found out the hard way that two days of sitting still weren’t enough to fix his back. He’d have been angrier about that, but his lovely Nami-san had been the one to help him back into bed.
After that excitement, there really hadn’t been much else for Sanji to do with himself. Robin-chan had lent him some books, wonderful woman that she was, but he could really only read for so long before he started craving physical activity. So then, all he had left was thinking and seeing how slowly he could smoke his last few cigarettes.
The question had come to Sanji at the tail end of the first week while he was meditating on the stupidity of Zoro for goading him into trying to do that. It had hit him right between the eyes and made him blink. He didn’t know if he really wanted to be thinking about his captain that way, but he couldn’t help it. Was Luffy actually as innocent as he appeared? Or had he explored the more interesting possibilities of his rubber body?
He wouldn’t even need to bend over…he could just stretch his neck down…or…
No. Sanji did not want to think about stretchy rubber penises. There are some parts of a human body that Devil Fruit should not affect, and that was one of them.
But he can do macramé with his fingers, thought Sanji. He then wondered how much boiling water he’d have to pour in his ear to get the idea of his captain doing decorative knotwork with his genitalia out of his head.
There was only one good way to deal with this poisonous question.
He innocently asked it of Zoro when the swordsman stuck his head in to laugh at him the next day. The expression on the swordsman’s face made it entirely worth it. Sweet vengeance was Sanji’s at last, and it was a bit more appropriate than the maiming and beating he’d had planned.
Unfortunately, the question, once asked, refused to go away. It hung thick between Zoro and Sanji, demanding an answer. And Sanji suddenly found that he really wanted to know whether or not he was the only guy on board to have gone down on himself.
Fortune smiled (or perhaps spat) upon the two curious men, for Luffy came ricocheting down the staircase and into the small of Zoro’s back, knocking the swordsman to the ground. Luffy went bouncing along the floor and came to a stop next to Sanji’s bed. He thrust something into Sanji’s hand, plopped his head on the bed, and smiled an utterly angelic smile.
The “something” proved to be meat. On a bone. Luffy’s favorite. What a kind gesture! Sanji felt seriously touched, as he had a secret weakness for affection involving gifts of food.
Luffy unfortunately ruined it by opening his mouth and permitting words to come out. “Nami said you’d feel better with a bone in your mouth, so I brought one just for you! Eat that and get better fast, Sanji!” Sanji’s mind, incapable of accepting that his Nami-san had just carefully manufactured and then sent him this bouncing bundle of inadvertent sexual innuendo, automatically blamed Zoro for it. He glared at the sprawled marimo-head over Luffy’s hat, and made up his mind.
“Thank you, Luffy. Nami-san is full of sweet thoughts, isn’t she?” Zoro made gagging noises in the background as he peeled himself off the floor. Sanji ignored him in favor of smiling at Luffy and saying, “You know, the idiot swordsman here was just wondering if you’ve ever done the same thing that I did. He has a suspicious penchant for asking questions like that, doesn’t he?” The look of rage and utter mortification from Zoro was fantastic. The look of blank confusion from Luffy was…not-so-fantastic.
“What? What did you do, Sanji? Whatwhatwhat?” Sanji realized in horror that Luffy had either missed hearing Usopp’s story or missed the point of Usopp’s story. Oh, bloody fuck. Now he had to explain the concept of autofellatio to his captain.
Zoro, bastard that he was, didn’t miss the opportunity to turn the tables. “Sanji,” he declared, malice and satisfaction slathered thickly over his voice like butter on a warm dinner roll, “can give himself a blow job. He was wondering if you’ve ever done the same. I guess Sanji doesn’t want to feel lonely, eh?”
“What? Oh! Yeah. Ace asked me that when I was thirteen, so I gave it a try. It’s not bad, but it’s a lot of work. How do you bend like that, Sanji? You didn’t eat a Gum-Gum Fruit! I want to see!” Sanji knew his face had to be fluorescent red by now, and Zoro was grinning and making “I win, shitty cook” gestures with his hands.
“He’s got to fold himself in half. How do you think he threw out his back?” Zoro said, visibly savoring his victory snatched from the jaws of embarrassment.
Luffy whirled and asked excitedly, “Can you do it, Zoro?”
“No! Fuck, I don’t bend like that,” Zoro snapped. He started to say something else, but then stopped. Sanji realized something wonderful: Zoro was biting off comments about Sanji’s flexibility and probable sexual implications thereof when he reminded himself that his captain could do the same thing. Oh, this was good.
“Have you ever tried?” Luffy pestered further, curiosity burning bright in his eyes.
“Do tell, marimo-head,” Sanji said, smirking. He leaned forward, winced, and laid back. He didn’t stop grinning evilly at the shitty swordsman. He was going to win after all.
“No! I’m not a-er, I don’t-just NO!” Zoro growled, taking a small step back.
“How do you know if you’ve never tried, shitty swordsman?” Sanji asked, lighting up a fresh cigarette. This was delicious. This was marvelous. This was nearly better than sex. It was like playing Luffy-ping-pong and nailing Zoro right in the forehead with their “ball.”
Luffy stretched out his arms, grabbed Zoro, and said, “Let’s help him, Sanji!”
Zoro damn near yelped out a “NO!”
Final volley, game point, Sanji for the win. “Not gonna turn down a challenge, are you, marimo?”
The question made Zoro freeze just long enough for Luffy to wrap his fingers around the back of Zoro’s neck and yank sharply down.
Sanji and Luffy learned that Zoro, sadly, really didn’t bend that way. They also learned that Zoro with a sprained neck made Chopper very, very, very bitchy, mostly because Zoro with a sprained neck was also very, very, very bitchy and most stubborn about continuing his training even when it made him go “Ow!” after every rep. Usopp spun a fantastic story out of Zoro’s failure, and Sanji spent the rest of his recovery in a far better mood.
After all, it wasn’t Sanji’s fault that Zoro just wasn’t man enough to suck his own dick.