Random Shanks and Ben ficlets
Sep. 4th, 2011 06:25 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dethoratsTitle: Winding
Rating: G
Pairing: Ben/Shanks
Word Count: 416
Prompt: Pendulum
A/N: inspired by "Pendulous Fall" by Kamelot
Highs and lows, peaks and valleys, troughs and waves. All endlessly repeating in a steady arcing swing. It was enough to drive a man to distraction, and although he wanted to be diverted, Ben couldn’t permit his thoughts to travel any further down the path they’d found. He shook himself, raised weary eyes to the clock face. It was just after four in the morning and Cooky hadn’t yet risen to begin the day’s baking or put on the coffee. At least that was something he could do.
Ben rose, made his way over to the massive stove and carefully fiddled with the gas. The Red Force was an older vessel but at least they had gas and plumbing even if they lacked fancy things like coffee makers. He measured out the beans, poured the water, and set the pot on to boil. Thick, black coffee would be the result, ready to be laced with sugar and cream and brandy and whatever else happened to be handy to the crew. Normally he took his black, taste lost to nicotine and early rising, but today he could use a shot of hard stuff himself. The clock drew his attention again as he sat back down to wait, the battered brass pendulum moving hypnotically in its never-changing path. He gazed at it and let his vision blur, fuzz out as he thought of blood on the water, swords glinting in the sunlight, laughter around a fire.
“Beckman!” The sound of his name, and of Cooky bustling over to the clock to wind it for the day, broke him out of his daze. “You almost burned it. Haven’t I banned you from my galley?!”
No excuses and Cooky shook his head, made Ben a mug and poured in a liberal amount of alcohol and cream. “Off you go. He’ll wake soon enough and be wanting a drink. I’ll bring you both a plate later.”
Ben went, bemused and tired but feeling better than just the coffee warranted. Shanks was pale, hair too bright against sheets and bandages, but he opened his eyes when Ben sat down. The captain stretched out his hand – for the coffee, Ben thought – and managed to catch his fingers in an unruly lock of hair when the first mate leaned forward. He wound the strand, reeling Ben lower, and the whisper of breath against his lips was enough to make Ben smile and bend in, spirit lifting to meet the light of a new day.
Title: Going For It
Rating: Rish
Pairing: Ben/Mihawk/Shanks
Word Count: 1043
A/N: Meh suggestive pr0n because I was bored at work and finally had some free time on the internets.
The tension is too ridiculously high, thick enough to feel and almost taste. Shanks looks away first, head tipping back as he laughs, long and loud, the line of his throat pale in the moonlight. It’s too funny, they all are, and he’s never had a problem yielding to a good thing. He has his pride and it isn’t worth getting ruffled over, not when it’ll be awkward and clumsy and probably amazing as hell. He leans back on his hands, still chuckling, to watch the fallout. Ben is impassive, still as stone except for his left brow, which is slowly creeping closer to his hairline. Mihawk is still puffed up from before, bristling, and it’s all the more hilarious because that’s the tactic that’s never worked on his first mate. And Ben probably wouldn’t even care except Mihawk had gone and challenged him. This could go on for hours, although Ben probably has more common sense than that, and Shanks knows what he wants. He stops laughing and tilts into Mihawk, lets his fingers walk up the seam of pants that are deliciously tight and are probably going to be a bitch to take off.
“Come on. Night’s not getting any younger and neither am I.” He stops just short of where he wants to touch, puts on the guileless expression that never fools his first mate but generally works anyway. And he lets his voice drop just a bit with his challenge. “You can handle both of us…” He leaves the questioning note off the end but still lets his voice trail off as he grins up into the swordsman’s face.
Mihawk scowls, drops a hand on top of Shanks’. Then he sighs and looks over to catch Beckman’s eyes. Ben rolls his and shrugs and they share a small smile. Shanks always gets what he wants. And right now what he wants is exactly what Mihawk wants as well. He drags the nimble fingers beneath his own higher, bites down on the noise that wants to escape. Ben stands up, disappears for who knows how long as Shanks and Mihawk get reacquainted. When he comes back it is to steal a kiss from the shichibukai and to pluck up his captain and toss him over one shoulder.
Shanks isn’t helpless, fingers attacking without mercy, and they’re all laughing by the time they stagger through the door to Shanks’ cabin. Shanks bounces when he hits the bed, doesn’t get time to plan a counter maneuver as the pair pounce and cleverly divest him of covering and leave him breathless in the middle of his bed. They tease him, probably just because it IS him and he watches with appreciative eyes as they take turns removing clothing and touching. He knew they’d done this before but he’d never asked, never seen, none of his business considering that he’s had both of them for a while, and if this works out, he’s going to ask to watch one day.
Ben whispers something in Mihawk’s ear, turns to go lock the cabin door. The swordsman stares at his retreating backside for a moment and then takes advantage of Shanks’ inattention to pin him to the bed, a hand questing beneath the pillows until it encounters what it seeks. Pliant and warm and grinning from ear to ear beneath his hands and yeah, when Ben settles at his back and props a chin on his shoulder to watch and Shanks beams even more, he knows it’s going to okay. Mihawk passes back the lube, leans down to rub against Shanks, friction a weapon against the careful stretch and burn that make him want to arch back and into steady fingers.
He’s never seen it quite like this before and Ben drinks it in, the expression on Shanks’ face as Mihawk strokes carefully into him. This was one of the captain’s better ideas and if asked Ben probably could have come up with a dozen or more reasons why they hadn’t done this before but none of them would have been more than half-assed excuses. This is frightening as all hell and excellent and he’s very glad Shanks is limber as the captain practically folds himself in half so he can prop his ankles on Mihawk’s shoulders. A big toe prods Ben in the cheek and he nips at it, unable to stop smiling even as he tries to figure out the logistics of what they’re trying to do.
It is awkward at first, full of fits and starts and Shanks laughing his head off every damn time Mihawk’s cross smacks him in the nose, but they figure it out eventually. It’s all give and take, rhythm in three count time. And it’s good to watch Mihawk’s eyes lose focus when Ben murmurs in his ear, to catch Shanks looking up at someone beyond the swordsman’s shoulder, for Ben to rest his forehead against dark hair instead of red. They make Mihawk give out first, with Ben not far behind, and then they both fall on Shanks. He teases, pretends that they’re worshiping at his manly altar, and just groans in satisfaction when they bite at him in revenge. He makes a mess on his stomach and wishes he could go again instantly when they lick him clean, share his taste with clever tongues. Shanks pulls them down, steals his flavor from both of them, and laughs again just for the sheer joy of it.
The bed’s a mess and so are they but Ben is in the best shape so they make him go for supplies, making him vow to try a different spot next time. ‘Next time?’ Shanks asks, not bothering to hide the hopeful note in his voice. Mihawk rolls his eyes but doesn’t bother to clout him the way Ben would. ‘Next time you can do some work, lazy ass.’ Shanks beams and Ben comes back through the door laden with the necessary provision, ie booze and a couple of towels. One dark head soon hits the pillow, is followed quickly by another. Shanks, caught in the middle, takes a last long drink before he settles down between them and finds a space for his legs amidst the tangle of their own.
Rating: G
Pairing: Ben/Shanks
Word Count: 416
Prompt: Pendulum
A/N: inspired by "Pendulous Fall" by Kamelot
Highs and lows, peaks and valleys, troughs and waves. All endlessly repeating in a steady arcing swing. It was enough to drive a man to distraction, and although he wanted to be diverted, Ben couldn’t permit his thoughts to travel any further down the path they’d found. He shook himself, raised weary eyes to the clock face. It was just after four in the morning and Cooky hadn’t yet risen to begin the day’s baking or put on the coffee. At least that was something he could do.
Ben rose, made his way over to the massive stove and carefully fiddled with the gas. The Red Force was an older vessel but at least they had gas and plumbing even if they lacked fancy things like coffee makers. He measured out the beans, poured the water, and set the pot on to boil. Thick, black coffee would be the result, ready to be laced with sugar and cream and brandy and whatever else happened to be handy to the crew. Normally he took his black, taste lost to nicotine and early rising, but today he could use a shot of hard stuff himself. The clock drew his attention again as he sat back down to wait, the battered brass pendulum moving hypnotically in its never-changing path. He gazed at it and let his vision blur, fuzz out as he thought of blood on the water, swords glinting in the sunlight, laughter around a fire.
“Beckman!” The sound of his name, and of Cooky bustling over to the clock to wind it for the day, broke him out of his daze. “You almost burned it. Haven’t I banned you from my galley?!”
No excuses and Cooky shook his head, made Ben a mug and poured in a liberal amount of alcohol and cream. “Off you go. He’ll wake soon enough and be wanting a drink. I’ll bring you both a plate later.”
Ben went, bemused and tired but feeling better than just the coffee warranted. Shanks was pale, hair too bright against sheets and bandages, but he opened his eyes when Ben sat down. The captain stretched out his hand – for the coffee, Ben thought – and managed to catch his fingers in an unruly lock of hair when the first mate leaned forward. He wound the strand, reeling Ben lower, and the whisper of breath against his lips was enough to make Ben smile and bend in, spirit lifting to meet the light of a new day.
Title: Going For It
Rating: Rish
Pairing: Ben/Mihawk/Shanks
Word Count: 1043
A/N: Meh suggestive pr0n because I was bored at work and finally had some free time on the internets.
The tension is too ridiculously high, thick enough to feel and almost taste. Shanks looks away first, head tipping back as he laughs, long and loud, the line of his throat pale in the moonlight. It’s too funny, they all are, and he’s never had a problem yielding to a good thing. He has his pride and it isn’t worth getting ruffled over, not when it’ll be awkward and clumsy and probably amazing as hell. He leans back on his hands, still chuckling, to watch the fallout. Ben is impassive, still as stone except for his left brow, which is slowly creeping closer to his hairline. Mihawk is still puffed up from before, bristling, and it’s all the more hilarious because that’s the tactic that’s never worked on his first mate. And Ben probably wouldn’t even care except Mihawk had gone and challenged him. This could go on for hours, although Ben probably has more common sense than that, and Shanks knows what he wants. He stops laughing and tilts into Mihawk, lets his fingers walk up the seam of pants that are deliciously tight and are probably going to be a bitch to take off.
“Come on. Night’s not getting any younger and neither am I.” He stops just short of where he wants to touch, puts on the guileless expression that never fools his first mate but generally works anyway. And he lets his voice drop just a bit with his challenge. “You can handle both of us…” He leaves the questioning note off the end but still lets his voice trail off as he grins up into the swordsman’s face.
Mihawk scowls, drops a hand on top of Shanks’. Then he sighs and looks over to catch Beckman’s eyes. Ben rolls his and shrugs and they share a small smile. Shanks always gets what he wants. And right now what he wants is exactly what Mihawk wants as well. He drags the nimble fingers beneath his own higher, bites down on the noise that wants to escape. Ben stands up, disappears for who knows how long as Shanks and Mihawk get reacquainted. When he comes back it is to steal a kiss from the shichibukai and to pluck up his captain and toss him over one shoulder.
Shanks isn’t helpless, fingers attacking without mercy, and they’re all laughing by the time they stagger through the door to Shanks’ cabin. Shanks bounces when he hits the bed, doesn’t get time to plan a counter maneuver as the pair pounce and cleverly divest him of covering and leave him breathless in the middle of his bed. They tease him, probably just because it IS him and he watches with appreciative eyes as they take turns removing clothing and touching. He knew they’d done this before but he’d never asked, never seen, none of his business considering that he’s had both of them for a while, and if this works out, he’s going to ask to watch one day.
Ben whispers something in Mihawk’s ear, turns to go lock the cabin door. The swordsman stares at his retreating backside for a moment and then takes advantage of Shanks’ inattention to pin him to the bed, a hand questing beneath the pillows until it encounters what it seeks. Pliant and warm and grinning from ear to ear beneath his hands and yeah, when Ben settles at his back and props a chin on his shoulder to watch and Shanks beams even more, he knows it’s going to okay. Mihawk passes back the lube, leans down to rub against Shanks, friction a weapon against the careful stretch and burn that make him want to arch back and into steady fingers.
He’s never seen it quite like this before and Ben drinks it in, the expression on Shanks’ face as Mihawk strokes carefully into him. This was one of the captain’s better ideas and if asked Ben probably could have come up with a dozen or more reasons why they hadn’t done this before but none of them would have been more than half-assed excuses. This is frightening as all hell and excellent and he’s very glad Shanks is limber as the captain practically folds himself in half so he can prop his ankles on Mihawk’s shoulders. A big toe prods Ben in the cheek and he nips at it, unable to stop smiling even as he tries to figure out the logistics of what they’re trying to do.
It is awkward at first, full of fits and starts and Shanks laughing his head off every damn time Mihawk’s cross smacks him in the nose, but they figure it out eventually. It’s all give and take, rhythm in three count time. And it’s good to watch Mihawk’s eyes lose focus when Ben murmurs in his ear, to catch Shanks looking up at someone beyond the swordsman’s shoulder, for Ben to rest his forehead against dark hair instead of red. They make Mihawk give out first, with Ben not far behind, and then they both fall on Shanks. He teases, pretends that they’re worshiping at his manly altar, and just groans in satisfaction when they bite at him in revenge. He makes a mess on his stomach and wishes he could go again instantly when they lick him clean, share his taste with clever tongues. Shanks pulls them down, steals his flavor from both of them, and laughs again just for the sheer joy of it.
The bed’s a mess and so are they but Ben is in the best shape so they make him go for supplies, making him vow to try a different spot next time. ‘Next time?’ Shanks asks, not bothering to hide the hopeful note in his voice. Mihawk rolls his eyes but doesn’t bother to clout him the way Ben would. ‘Next time you can do some work, lazy ass.’ Shanks beams and Ben comes back through the door laden with the necessary provision, ie booze and a couple of towels. One dark head soon hits the pillow, is followed quickly by another. Shanks, caught in the middle, takes a last long drink before he settles down between them and finds a space for his legs amidst the tangle of their own.
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no subject
Date: 2011-09-05 12:20 am (UTC)the first one broke my heart in a very good way; I love the details you put into your fic: the everyday burning of coffee because they don't have a coffee maker, the blend of modern tech and old styles that's One Piece, and Shanks, always Shanks, always so... so bright and clear, even in extremity.
I hope you write more of these because *clearly* I need more Shanks and Ben in *my* life, especially the way you write them.
no subject
Date: 2011-09-06 07:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-05 06:22 am (UTC)Makes me sad that I haven't wrote anything myself for months now XD
no subject
Date: 2011-09-06 07:49 am (UTC)Anyway, thanks! These are actually kinda lame imo but eh, anything to get to trying again. I feel so rusty but Pixiv is kinda inspiring.