30 Kisses Fic 1 - Alley
Feb. 16th, 2005 06:42 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dethoratsTheme: Red
Title: Alley
Rating: R/NC-17 - contains really bad pr0n
Pairing: Ben/Shanks
Time: Two and a half hours
Word Count: 2,048
“What the hell do you think you were doing back there?”
Ben glared at the man he had trapped between himself and the hard brick wall of a warehouse. Shanks stared back up at him from under the red fringe of his hair, eyes a little wide at the venom in his voice. The alley was mostly shadows, light from the gas lamp across the street giving up the struggle mere feet past the entrance. He could barely see Ben, even with the other man mere inches from his face. Pinned to the wall, he struggled to free himself from the hold Ben had on his wrist. The first mate merely shifted even closer, slipping a leg between Shanks’ own and using his larger mass to keep his hips still. His breath was hot as he leaned in even closer. He spoke softly into Shanks’ ear.
“I want an explanation, Shanks. We’re not moving from this spot until I get one.”
Soft, dark tendrils of his unbound hair tickled against his cheek, trailed over the pale flesh of his neck and shoulder. He couldn’t suppress the shiver that shook his spine; although whether it was from Ben’s tone or from the light touches he didn’t know. The pressure on his wrist was bordering on painful, and he tugged, twisted, tried to loosen the fierce grip. Ben growled, jerking his wrist up over his head and forcing it to the wall. The coarse brick dug into his flesh. It was an exercise in futility, but he couldn’t not try to dig his fingers into Ben’s hand. The man just laughed, a low, black chuckle, before he touched his lips to Shanks’ ear again.
“I’m still waiting. Don’t push me.”
There really was no chance of getting free, and Shanks finally relented. He slumped back against the wall, let Ben take up his weight. Even his tone was restrained as he tried to frame a response.
“Look, Ben. I didn’t mean nothin’ by it. I was just tryin’ to keep the ladies entertained. Might’ve even gotten free booze outta it.”
“I will not be your catspaw for such things. And I most certainly am not going to prostitute myself for you, even in jest or passing reference. I’m too old to be a catamite, Shanks, and you will not make me out to be one.”
“I wasn’t tryin’ ta prostitute you! Honest!”
“What do you call your behavior then?”
The first mate crowded even closer to Shanks, pressing him into the bricks. He lowered his head, tongue darting out to taste the lightly freckled skin exposed by an open shirt collar. It was warm, salty, damp with sweat. He could feel Shanks’ pulse when he pressed his lips to his throat, faster than normal. The juncture of neck and shoulder was solid, flesh and muscle scarcely yielding as he brought his teeth to bear. The captain surged against him, rocking up into the bite, a moan dragged from between clenched teeth.
“Ah! Ben! I was…” he panted, squirming, trapped, as Ben lessened the bite in favor of suction. “…Was just havin’ some fun. Flirtin’. Unh…I didn’t mean nothin’ by it.”
He tore his mouth away, reluctant. It was replaced by his thumb, rubbing deep into abused flesh, his hand gripping Shanks’ shoulder to keep him still.
“You don’t make a man visibly aroused in public like that. I’m not here for you to tempt bar wenches with.”
His mouth descended again, this time savaging an earlobe.
“Ya should be…haa…complimented. After all, they were impressed with what they saw.”
Ben bit along the line of Shanks’ jaw, nipping hard enough to bring deep spots of color to the surface of his skin. The captain’s stubble was rough, and he laved his tongue over it, licking a path to a panting, parted mouth.
“They shouldn’t have seen it. Besides, I thought you had issues about that yourself. And most of all…” he paused, biting Shanks’ lip. “Don’t ever take my hair down like that. I don’t like it.”
He dipped his tongue into the slack mouth, pushing lips together with bruising force. Shanks was open to him, passive as he ran his tongue over teeth and palate.
“You use me in many ways and I don’t protest. But I will not be aroused by you and thrown to the wolves just so you can get a free drink. And I will not be left wanting.”
Lips met again and Ben rubbed against him. The hardness between his legs strained in his pants, dug into the softer flesh of Shanks’ abdomen. An answering stiffness pushed into his thigh, Shanks moaning again. He drew back, reluctant to give up the contact. Shanks strained after him, still held against the wall by his wrist.
“You won’t. Lemme go.”
“…No. Tell me what you planned.”
“God. My pants. Just deal with ‘em and lemme turn around.”
Still holding Shanks to the wall, Ben reached down, pushing up the silky fabric of a sash to get at the drawstrings tucked underneath. He let his hand slide even further, cupping against the hard flesh trying to break free. Fingertips ran gently over the length, teasing.
“Ben! Please. Enough already.”
“Can’t take it? What do you think you were doing to me all that time?”
“I’ve been hard as long as you! You know what seein’ you all angry and aroused like that does ta me!”
“Shanks…” Ben’s hand slowed, closing around stiff heat. Shanks had his head down, breathing hard, hips arched forward off the wall. He mouthed through the sweaty bangs, urging his head to tip back. In the darkness of the alley, he could barely make out Shanks’ features, but the captain’s eyes glittered, twin gleams of lust. The faint light from the gas lamp caught in them, sparking the hazel, turning it deeper, tinting it red.
“Please…”
Ben shook his head helplessly, unable to stop the ebbing of his anger.
“You jackass,” he muttered, lips moving lightly against Shanks’ forehead. “Why do you always do this to me? I want to be mad, damn you.”
“So be mad.”
Shanks thrust slowly into the hand that enclosed him. “Be mad. Be happy. I don’t care what so long as you hurry up and fuck me.”
“What if I want to be slow and patient?”
The captain glared at that, lifting one knee up to stroke against Ben’s crotch. “You can’t be. I know ya want it. I know I want it. ‘Sides, who knows how much longer the streets’ll stay quiet.”
Shanks had a point. He also had a very clever knee.
“Fine.”
He let his fingers travel upwards; dragging them slowly over the moisture he felt spotting the cotton trousers. The drawstring was undone with a simple tug; Shanks wasn’t really up for any complicated knot tying. The baggy clothing fell away, pooling at their feet. Shanks’ cock, finally free, bobbed up against his stomach, red and aching. If it weren’t for the answering throb of sympathy in his own pants, Ben would have fallen to his knees in the alley. Damn Shanks and his damn dick and his damn teasing and his damn pleading. Swallowing, he loosened his grip on the slim wrist.
“Turn around.” His voice had gone husky, thick with the desire that had been plaguing him for almost two hours.
Shanks complied, turning carefully, mindful of the pants around his feet and of the bricks against his skin. He spread his palm flat on the wall, using it for support as he bent over.
“C’mon. Do it.”
“It’ll hurt if I just-“
“I know. Don’t care. Want you now.”
He moaned softly in response, free hand moving to his zipper. The hand on Shanks’ wrist tightened, moved up to cover his palm. His cock was hot as he brought it out, skin stretched tight. He couldn’t resist stroking it a few times, pulling fast, trying to relieve some of the ache. Stepping closer, he rubbed up against the other man. Shanks’ ass was cool against his heat, smooth as he moved.
“Be~n.” His name was one long groan. “Please. Do it or let my hand free. Or touch me or somethin’.”
“You’re sure about this.”
“Gods yes. I just need ya to do somethin’, anything!”
He couldn’t bear to pull away again, but he did manage to let go of his cock. There wasn’t as much moisture as he’d like when he brought his hand back, but it would have to do. He slicked himself with saliva, trying to make it as wet as possible. Shanks was going to hurt, but there was no help for it.
“Okay.”
Resting most of his weight against the other man, he guided himself between Shanks’ cheeks, pressing in slowly. Beneath him Shanks sighed, letting his body relax. There was a sharp spike of pain when Ben finally breached his opening, but he clenched his teeth and spread his legs wider. Ben’s hand found one hip; thumb rubbing circles against a jutting hipbone as he slowly pushed himself into burning tightness. Finally they were flush with one another, breathing focused, movements careful and controlled.
“Move! Move, you bastard!”
He complied. He managed to go slow for a few thrusts before Shanks started moving with him, pushing back, taking him deeper. It was so good to just drive into hot flesh, flesh that gripped and squeezed and drove the ache in his balls throughout his body. Shanks was grunting beneath him, breath coming out in choppy gasps. Under his hand, he could feel the captain’s fingers start to clutch at the brick. His penis was rigid, wetness covering the crown when he finally grasped it.
“Ungh! Yes!”
Shanks threw his head back at the touch, nearly whacking him in the nose. His body surged, rocking first into his hand and then back onto his cock. The captain was in constant motion, driving towards his climax and pulling Ben with him. Shoulders bunched and flexed, muscles working to support their weight and to keep Shanks moving. In the shadows, he couldn’t tell if a bruise had already blossomed from his earlier bite. But the same spot was calling out to him; he could practically feel it between his teeth.
“The things…huh…you do to me.”
Salt on his tongue and there was no way Shanks would not be sporting swollen flesh the next day. His jaw worked, biting harder and harder until Shanks tried to pull away. He kissed the sore shoulder, then ran his tongue firmly over the welt. The captain shivered under him, bucking wildly. Release splashed against the warehouse wall, on the pavement. Shanks sagged, boneless, and Ben pushed him into the bricks. He let him move their hands, Shanks pillowing his head on their arms. And then he fucked him. Hard. The last remnants of anger channeled through his dick, taken out of the captain’s hide. He managed to come without adding another bite mark to Shanks’ body, panting heavily in his ear.
“Feel better?”
“Yes. But if you ever do that to me again…”
“Yes?”
“…I don’t know at the moment, but I’ll think of something appropriately horrible once I’m not so tired.”
He straightened up slowly, back popping as he finally released Shanks’ wrist and stretched. The captain turned around slowly, resting against the wall. He brought his wrist to his face, rubbing it against his chin, his cheek. Ben caught it, gently this time, pulling it into the faint light. The skin was abraded, beaded with red, on the base of his palm and on the back of his wrist. Where it wasn’t open, it was flushed from the pressure of Ben’s hand and weight.
“Damn. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s not that bad.”
“At least let me massage it for you.”
“Does this mean I’m not in trouble any more?”
A long sigh escaped his lungs and Ben raised the injured wrist to his lips.
“Yes…let me get your pants back on and we’ll go find a bar. I could use a drink and you could use some ice.”
“And a drink for me too!”
“Yes. And a drink for you too. Don’t worry. I know you don’t have any money so I’ll pay. Just remember. Leave the hair alone.”
A/N: Well, keeping with my theme of posting without revising, you get really bad porn. I don't know. I'm trying to write smut differently, and I don't think this turned out very well. My normal way is dry, fast. This is just kind of boring. Meh. I like the beginning, though. If anyone can stomach the bad porn, please comment/criticize. I can definitely use help refining my smut-writing techniques!
Title: Alley
Rating: R/NC-17 - contains really bad pr0n
Pairing: Ben/Shanks
Time: Two and a half hours
Word Count: 2,048
“What the hell do you think you were doing back there?”
Ben glared at the man he had trapped between himself and the hard brick wall of a warehouse. Shanks stared back up at him from under the red fringe of his hair, eyes a little wide at the venom in his voice. The alley was mostly shadows, light from the gas lamp across the street giving up the struggle mere feet past the entrance. He could barely see Ben, even with the other man mere inches from his face. Pinned to the wall, he struggled to free himself from the hold Ben had on his wrist. The first mate merely shifted even closer, slipping a leg between Shanks’ own and using his larger mass to keep his hips still. His breath was hot as he leaned in even closer. He spoke softly into Shanks’ ear.
“I want an explanation, Shanks. We’re not moving from this spot until I get one.”
Soft, dark tendrils of his unbound hair tickled against his cheek, trailed over the pale flesh of his neck and shoulder. He couldn’t suppress the shiver that shook his spine; although whether it was from Ben’s tone or from the light touches he didn’t know. The pressure on his wrist was bordering on painful, and he tugged, twisted, tried to loosen the fierce grip. Ben growled, jerking his wrist up over his head and forcing it to the wall. The coarse brick dug into his flesh. It was an exercise in futility, but he couldn’t not try to dig his fingers into Ben’s hand. The man just laughed, a low, black chuckle, before he touched his lips to Shanks’ ear again.
“I’m still waiting. Don’t push me.”
There really was no chance of getting free, and Shanks finally relented. He slumped back against the wall, let Ben take up his weight. Even his tone was restrained as he tried to frame a response.
“Look, Ben. I didn’t mean nothin’ by it. I was just tryin’ to keep the ladies entertained. Might’ve even gotten free booze outta it.”
“I will not be your catspaw for such things. And I most certainly am not going to prostitute myself for you, even in jest or passing reference. I’m too old to be a catamite, Shanks, and you will not make me out to be one.”
“I wasn’t tryin’ ta prostitute you! Honest!”
“What do you call your behavior then?”
The first mate crowded even closer to Shanks, pressing him into the bricks. He lowered his head, tongue darting out to taste the lightly freckled skin exposed by an open shirt collar. It was warm, salty, damp with sweat. He could feel Shanks’ pulse when he pressed his lips to his throat, faster than normal. The juncture of neck and shoulder was solid, flesh and muscle scarcely yielding as he brought his teeth to bear. The captain surged against him, rocking up into the bite, a moan dragged from between clenched teeth.
“Ah! Ben! I was…” he panted, squirming, trapped, as Ben lessened the bite in favor of suction. “…Was just havin’ some fun. Flirtin’. Unh…I didn’t mean nothin’ by it.”
He tore his mouth away, reluctant. It was replaced by his thumb, rubbing deep into abused flesh, his hand gripping Shanks’ shoulder to keep him still.
“You don’t make a man visibly aroused in public like that. I’m not here for you to tempt bar wenches with.”
His mouth descended again, this time savaging an earlobe.
“Ya should be…haa…complimented. After all, they were impressed with what they saw.”
Ben bit along the line of Shanks’ jaw, nipping hard enough to bring deep spots of color to the surface of his skin. The captain’s stubble was rough, and he laved his tongue over it, licking a path to a panting, parted mouth.
“They shouldn’t have seen it. Besides, I thought you had issues about that yourself. And most of all…” he paused, biting Shanks’ lip. “Don’t ever take my hair down like that. I don’t like it.”
He dipped his tongue into the slack mouth, pushing lips together with bruising force. Shanks was open to him, passive as he ran his tongue over teeth and palate.
“You use me in many ways and I don’t protest. But I will not be aroused by you and thrown to the wolves just so you can get a free drink. And I will not be left wanting.”
Lips met again and Ben rubbed against him. The hardness between his legs strained in his pants, dug into the softer flesh of Shanks’ abdomen. An answering stiffness pushed into his thigh, Shanks moaning again. He drew back, reluctant to give up the contact. Shanks strained after him, still held against the wall by his wrist.
“You won’t. Lemme go.”
“…No. Tell me what you planned.”
“God. My pants. Just deal with ‘em and lemme turn around.”
Still holding Shanks to the wall, Ben reached down, pushing up the silky fabric of a sash to get at the drawstrings tucked underneath. He let his hand slide even further, cupping against the hard flesh trying to break free. Fingertips ran gently over the length, teasing.
“Ben! Please. Enough already.”
“Can’t take it? What do you think you were doing to me all that time?”
“I’ve been hard as long as you! You know what seein’ you all angry and aroused like that does ta me!”
“Shanks…” Ben’s hand slowed, closing around stiff heat. Shanks had his head down, breathing hard, hips arched forward off the wall. He mouthed through the sweaty bangs, urging his head to tip back. In the darkness of the alley, he could barely make out Shanks’ features, but the captain’s eyes glittered, twin gleams of lust. The faint light from the gas lamp caught in them, sparking the hazel, turning it deeper, tinting it red.
“Please…”
Ben shook his head helplessly, unable to stop the ebbing of his anger.
“You jackass,” he muttered, lips moving lightly against Shanks’ forehead. “Why do you always do this to me? I want to be mad, damn you.”
“So be mad.”
Shanks thrust slowly into the hand that enclosed him. “Be mad. Be happy. I don’t care what so long as you hurry up and fuck me.”
“What if I want to be slow and patient?”
The captain glared at that, lifting one knee up to stroke against Ben’s crotch. “You can’t be. I know ya want it. I know I want it. ‘Sides, who knows how much longer the streets’ll stay quiet.”
Shanks had a point. He also had a very clever knee.
“Fine.”
He let his fingers travel upwards; dragging them slowly over the moisture he felt spotting the cotton trousers. The drawstring was undone with a simple tug; Shanks wasn’t really up for any complicated knot tying. The baggy clothing fell away, pooling at their feet. Shanks’ cock, finally free, bobbed up against his stomach, red and aching. If it weren’t for the answering throb of sympathy in his own pants, Ben would have fallen to his knees in the alley. Damn Shanks and his damn dick and his damn teasing and his damn pleading. Swallowing, he loosened his grip on the slim wrist.
“Turn around.” His voice had gone husky, thick with the desire that had been plaguing him for almost two hours.
Shanks complied, turning carefully, mindful of the pants around his feet and of the bricks against his skin. He spread his palm flat on the wall, using it for support as he bent over.
“C’mon. Do it.”
“It’ll hurt if I just-“
“I know. Don’t care. Want you now.”
He moaned softly in response, free hand moving to his zipper. The hand on Shanks’ wrist tightened, moved up to cover his palm. His cock was hot as he brought it out, skin stretched tight. He couldn’t resist stroking it a few times, pulling fast, trying to relieve some of the ache. Stepping closer, he rubbed up against the other man. Shanks’ ass was cool against his heat, smooth as he moved.
“Be~n.” His name was one long groan. “Please. Do it or let my hand free. Or touch me or somethin’.”
“You’re sure about this.”
“Gods yes. I just need ya to do somethin’, anything!”
He couldn’t bear to pull away again, but he did manage to let go of his cock. There wasn’t as much moisture as he’d like when he brought his hand back, but it would have to do. He slicked himself with saliva, trying to make it as wet as possible. Shanks was going to hurt, but there was no help for it.
“Okay.”
Resting most of his weight against the other man, he guided himself between Shanks’ cheeks, pressing in slowly. Beneath him Shanks sighed, letting his body relax. There was a sharp spike of pain when Ben finally breached his opening, but he clenched his teeth and spread his legs wider. Ben’s hand found one hip; thumb rubbing circles against a jutting hipbone as he slowly pushed himself into burning tightness. Finally they were flush with one another, breathing focused, movements careful and controlled.
“Move! Move, you bastard!”
He complied. He managed to go slow for a few thrusts before Shanks started moving with him, pushing back, taking him deeper. It was so good to just drive into hot flesh, flesh that gripped and squeezed and drove the ache in his balls throughout his body. Shanks was grunting beneath him, breath coming out in choppy gasps. Under his hand, he could feel the captain’s fingers start to clutch at the brick. His penis was rigid, wetness covering the crown when he finally grasped it.
“Ungh! Yes!”
Shanks threw his head back at the touch, nearly whacking him in the nose. His body surged, rocking first into his hand and then back onto his cock. The captain was in constant motion, driving towards his climax and pulling Ben with him. Shoulders bunched and flexed, muscles working to support their weight and to keep Shanks moving. In the shadows, he couldn’t tell if a bruise had already blossomed from his earlier bite. But the same spot was calling out to him; he could practically feel it between his teeth.
“The things…huh…you do to me.”
Salt on his tongue and there was no way Shanks would not be sporting swollen flesh the next day. His jaw worked, biting harder and harder until Shanks tried to pull away. He kissed the sore shoulder, then ran his tongue firmly over the welt. The captain shivered under him, bucking wildly. Release splashed against the warehouse wall, on the pavement. Shanks sagged, boneless, and Ben pushed him into the bricks. He let him move their hands, Shanks pillowing his head on their arms. And then he fucked him. Hard. The last remnants of anger channeled through his dick, taken out of the captain’s hide. He managed to come without adding another bite mark to Shanks’ body, panting heavily in his ear.
“Feel better?”
“Yes. But if you ever do that to me again…”
“Yes?”
“…I don’t know at the moment, but I’ll think of something appropriately horrible once I’m not so tired.”
He straightened up slowly, back popping as he finally released Shanks’ wrist and stretched. The captain turned around slowly, resting against the wall. He brought his wrist to his face, rubbing it against his chin, his cheek. Ben caught it, gently this time, pulling it into the faint light. The skin was abraded, beaded with red, on the base of his palm and on the back of his wrist. Where it wasn’t open, it was flushed from the pressure of Ben’s hand and weight.
“Damn. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s not that bad.”
“At least let me massage it for you.”
“Does this mean I’m not in trouble any more?”
A long sigh escaped his lungs and Ben raised the injured wrist to his lips.
“Yes…let me get your pants back on and we’ll go find a bar. I could use a drink and you could use some ice.”
“And a drink for me too!”
“Yes. And a drink for you too. Don’t worry. I know you don’t have any money so I’ll pay. Just remember. Leave the hair alone.”
A/N: Well, keeping with my theme of posting without revising, you get really bad porn. I don't know. I'm trying to write smut differently, and I don't think this turned out very well. My normal way is dry, fast. This is just kind of boring. Meh. I like the beginning, though. If anyone can stomach the bad porn, please comment/criticize. I can definitely use help refining my smut-writing techniques!
