A bit of Ben/Shanks smuttage
Jun. 30th, 2004 11:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dethoratsTitle: Haystacks
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,476
Pairing: Shanks and Ben
"That's the eighth barn captain."
"I know, I know. Don't gotta remind me. What the hell's wrong with this island that a man can't find a nice barn to fuck in?"
Ben shook his head, staring over the captain's shoulder towards the east. The harbor, with the ship and his book that clearly wasn't going to get touched this night, lay out of sight. But the faintest glimmer of dawn was visible on the horizon. It was very late, or very early depending on whether one had actually made it to bed. Of course, he hadn't had the opportunity. Not that he'd planned on sleeping that much, what with a brand new volume about the origins of the world government to devour, but at least he wouldn't be cold, slightly damp, and smelling rather strongly of cow. No, this night had been nothing like what he'd imagined all those hours ago back at the tavern. And it was all the fault of one man. As usual. Shanks and his ridiculous notions, always dragging him around on pointless adventures, getting him into trouble, and generally annoying him. The man was simply impossible. Wanting to get fucked like a milk maid indeed. The wretched beverage that passed for liquor on this island had surely curdled what little remained of the captain's brain. That bar maid had been all over him. Whatever had possessed Shanks to pass up a warm bed, a rather impressive pair of breasts, and the strong possibility of a home-cooked breakfast to drag him across the rural countryside in search of the perfect haystack had to be a demon of the strongest sort. Oddly enough, he was still vaguely flattered. After all, even though he knew Shanks was his, the flings with the bar girls were just that, flings - one-night stands that primarily got Shanks out of massive bar tabs and a belly full of good food - it was still nice to know the captain would choose him over feminine charms. But, none of this was getting him laid, or back to the ship. Shanks was scanning the darkness, no doubt searching for yet another low building filled with livestock and more perils for them to survive in Shanks' quest to get screwed in the hay. Ben was known for his patience. After all, patience was a necessity when sailing across wide swaths of unknown ocean, but even more important when it came to surviving life with a crazy red-head. But now, the first pink streaks painting the east and the stars still glimmering overhead, his patience finally ran out. They were in the middle of the road, the only road on this backwater, but he didn't care. He dropped to his knees, thankful finally for the dirt, the mud. The road wasn't stone, wouldn't be hard on his joints. He reached for Shanks, startling the captain from his sweep of the area when he pulled him forward by his hips. Shanks stared down at him, a surprised smile on his lips.
"What're you doin'?"
"Just what it looks like. Why? Afraid of getting caught out here in the open?"
Not that that was likely to disuade Shanks. If anything, it should only turn him on more.
"No...no, just wonderin'. I guess this means I gotta give up the search for the haystack in all these farm needles."
Ben didn't dignify the mangled analogy with a reply. Instead he leaned forward, pulling open the drawstring to Shanks' trousers with his teeth. He leaned back, laces still caught tight between his lips as he watched the fabric loosen around the captain's hips. A final tug and he released the drawstrings. A soft *fwump* of fabric and the brown pants hit the dirt. Ah, good. Shanks had chosen to go without underwear. Made his job a hell of a lot easier. He glanced back up; the captain's face was mainly shadows in the darkness, but the glint of humor and lust was plainly visible in his eyes.
"Got tired of trampin' around didn't you? It was that last barn that did it. Gotta be. Who knew you were so attractive to the cows, or that their stud would get so jealous?"
He contemplated telling Shanks to shut up, but figured that actions always spoke louder than words. And he knew a sure-fire way to keep Shanks from making any coherent sorts of sounds. Besides, that cock had been teasing him since those pants had fallen. Shanks may have enjoyed stringing him along all night, but he wasn't feeling that cruel at the moment. He just wanted to get on with it and go to bed. So, no warnings, no preamble licks. Just the swiftness of lowering his head while drawing those hips even closer before that hardened flesh was sucked into the back of his throat. It cut Shanks off in mid-chuckle, his throat gasping as it switched from laughing to a long, drawn-out moan. And then he was moving, bobbing his head, pulling Shanks even deeper. It was on the edge of brutal, a fast, hard blowjob, with the edges of his teeth occasionally sending sparks of brief pain through Shanks that only added to the experience. Ben knew his throat would be sore that day, a fact driven home when Shanks began to move of his own accord, fucking his mouth as hard as he had been moving. It was almost a relief, let him hang on to a muscled thigh and worm his free hand down his own pants. And when Shanks' hand found its way onto his head, cupping his skull and tugging strands free of the holder he almost purred. Just what he, and apparently Shanks, needed: a good, fast fuck with a nice touch of danger. After all the frustrations of the night, it was marvelous to finally let go. He stroked himself faster, orgasm suddenly nigh, and he hummed deep in his throat, knowing from past experience that it wouldn't take more than that to send Shanks over the edge.
Heat and wet and suction and friction and...oooh, he was doing that humming thing, vibrations running up his cock and damn Ben was good. So much better than any woman he'd ever picked up. He smiled, the memory of Ben's eyes on him across the bar that evening sending another rush up his spine. He'd fully intended to sleep with that poor woman, but seeing Ben, sitting there with his book and his dark-eyed glances had changed his mind. He wasn't one to get that sentimental when he was sober but somehow it seemed right at this moment. He thrust a final time, hand curling against Ben's head, fingers rubbing in a light caress as he came. He sighed the orgasm pulsed through him, the words escaping quietly from between his lips.
"God I love you."
His focus was almost totally on his cock and on swallowing the release in his mouth, but he still heard. And it was enough. He came with a muffled cry, fingers catching up the warmth and stickiness. A few more lashes of his tongue, and he let Shanks slip from his mouth, leaning forward to press his cheek to a warm thigh. The hand remained on his head and it was good. Very good, more than enough to compensate for the irritations of the night. Of course a moment like this was too good to last, shattered by the crowing of a rooster greeting the rising sun. They jerked apart, Shanks reaching down to hitch up his trousers and Ben rising to his feet, wiping his palm on the bottom cuff of his pants.
"Well, I don't feel like a milk maid, but it's more than good enough for me."
"And what is that about?"
"Dunno. Just an excuse to get you to fuck me in a barn I guess."
"You are a very, very strange man. And I think, that after making me traipse all over this damned island, that you owe me breakfast."
"I surely couldn't expect you to cook, you walking disaster."
"Hmm, that may be, but at least it means you have to cook."
"Right as usual. OK. But only if you go back to that third barn and get me some fresh eggs...Hey!"
Shanks danced out of the way as Ben made to whack him on the back of the head again.
"Alright, alright. I get it. No more barns."
"Toast will be just fine, thank you."
"Toast it is. Now, do you remember how to get back to the ship? I kinda got turned around in the searching last night."
Ben sighed. No surprise there. But he knew where to go, and he pointed Shanks in the right direction. The captain charged off, and he was all too happy to be following him back to the ship.
Once again a vaguely weak ending...the second half or last third of the bits I wrote earlier. Now all I gotta do is go back and write about the misadventures of Shanks and Ben and livestock...oooh kinky (not). I like it though...even with the bit of sap. 'Cause goddamit sometimes ya need sap. I feel a bit better now. Not so damn whiney.
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,476
Pairing: Shanks and Ben
"That's the eighth barn captain."
"I know, I know. Don't gotta remind me. What the hell's wrong with this island that a man can't find a nice barn to fuck in?"
Ben shook his head, staring over the captain's shoulder towards the east. The harbor, with the ship and his book that clearly wasn't going to get touched this night, lay out of sight. But the faintest glimmer of dawn was visible on the horizon. It was very late, or very early depending on whether one had actually made it to bed. Of course, he hadn't had the opportunity. Not that he'd planned on sleeping that much, what with a brand new volume about the origins of the world government to devour, but at least he wouldn't be cold, slightly damp, and smelling rather strongly of cow. No, this night had been nothing like what he'd imagined all those hours ago back at the tavern. And it was all the fault of one man. As usual. Shanks and his ridiculous notions, always dragging him around on pointless adventures, getting him into trouble, and generally annoying him. The man was simply impossible. Wanting to get fucked like a milk maid indeed. The wretched beverage that passed for liquor on this island had surely curdled what little remained of the captain's brain. That bar maid had been all over him. Whatever had possessed Shanks to pass up a warm bed, a rather impressive pair of breasts, and the strong possibility of a home-cooked breakfast to drag him across the rural countryside in search of the perfect haystack had to be a demon of the strongest sort. Oddly enough, he was still vaguely flattered. After all, even though he knew Shanks was his, the flings with the bar girls were just that, flings - one-night stands that primarily got Shanks out of massive bar tabs and a belly full of good food - it was still nice to know the captain would choose him over feminine charms. But, none of this was getting him laid, or back to the ship. Shanks was scanning the darkness, no doubt searching for yet another low building filled with livestock and more perils for them to survive in Shanks' quest to get screwed in the hay. Ben was known for his patience. After all, patience was a necessity when sailing across wide swaths of unknown ocean, but even more important when it came to surviving life with a crazy red-head. But now, the first pink streaks painting the east and the stars still glimmering overhead, his patience finally ran out. They were in the middle of the road, the only road on this backwater, but he didn't care. He dropped to his knees, thankful finally for the dirt, the mud. The road wasn't stone, wouldn't be hard on his joints. He reached for Shanks, startling the captain from his sweep of the area when he pulled him forward by his hips. Shanks stared down at him, a surprised smile on his lips.
"What're you doin'?"
"Just what it looks like. Why? Afraid of getting caught out here in the open?"
Not that that was likely to disuade Shanks. If anything, it should only turn him on more.
"No...no, just wonderin'. I guess this means I gotta give up the search for the haystack in all these farm needles."
Ben didn't dignify the mangled analogy with a reply. Instead he leaned forward, pulling open the drawstring to Shanks' trousers with his teeth. He leaned back, laces still caught tight between his lips as he watched the fabric loosen around the captain's hips. A final tug and he released the drawstrings. A soft *fwump* of fabric and the brown pants hit the dirt. Ah, good. Shanks had chosen to go without underwear. Made his job a hell of a lot easier. He glanced back up; the captain's face was mainly shadows in the darkness, but the glint of humor and lust was plainly visible in his eyes.
"Got tired of trampin' around didn't you? It was that last barn that did it. Gotta be. Who knew you were so attractive to the cows, or that their stud would get so jealous?"
He contemplated telling Shanks to shut up, but figured that actions always spoke louder than words. And he knew a sure-fire way to keep Shanks from making any coherent sorts of sounds. Besides, that cock had been teasing him since those pants had fallen. Shanks may have enjoyed stringing him along all night, but he wasn't feeling that cruel at the moment. He just wanted to get on with it and go to bed. So, no warnings, no preamble licks. Just the swiftness of lowering his head while drawing those hips even closer before that hardened flesh was sucked into the back of his throat. It cut Shanks off in mid-chuckle, his throat gasping as it switched from laughing to a long, drawn-out moan. And then he was moving, bobbing his head, pulling Shanks even deeper. It was on the edge of brutal, a fast, hard blowjob, with the edges of his teeth occasionally sending sparks of brief pain through Shanks that only added to the experience. Ben knew his throat would be sore that day, a fact driven home when Shanks began to move of his own accord, fucking his mouth as hard as he had been moving. It was almost a relief, let him hang on to a muscled thigh and worm his free hand down his own pants. And when Shanks' hand found its way onto his head, cupping his skull and tugging strands free of the holder he almost purred. Just what he, and apparently Shanks, needed: a good, fast fuck with a nice touch of danger. After all the frustrations of the night, it was marvelous to finally let go. He stroked himself faster, orgasm suddenly nigh, and he hummed deep in his throat, knowing from past experience that it wouldn't take more than that to send Shanks over the edge.
Heat and wet and suction and friction and...oooh, he was doing that humming thing, vibrations running up his cock and damn Ben was good. So much better than any woman he'd ever picked up. He smiled, the memory of Ben's eyes on him across the bar that evening sending another rush up his spine. He'd fully intended to sleep with that poor woman, but seeing Ben, sitting there with his book and his dark-eyed glances had changed his mind. He wasn't one to get that sentimental when he was sober but somehow it seemed right at this moment. He thrust a final time, hand curling against Ben's head, fingers rubbing in a light caress as he came. He sighed the orgasm pulsed through him, the words escaping quietly from between his lips.
"God I love you."
His focus was almost totally on his cock and on swallowing the release in his mouth, but he still heard. And it was enough. He came with a muffled cry, fingers catching up the warmth and stickiness. A few more lashes of his tongue, and he let Shanks slip from his mouth, leaning forward to press his cheek to a warm thigh. The hand remained on his head and it was good. Very good, more than enough to compensate for the irritations of the night. Of course a moment like this was too good to last, shattered by the crowing of a rooster greeting the rising sun. They jerked apart, Shanks reaching down to hitch up his trousers and Ben rising to his feet, wiping his palm on the bottom cuff of his pants.
"Well, I don't feel like a milk maid, but it's more than good enough for me."
"And what is that about?"
"Dunno. Just an excuse to get you to fuck me in a barn I guess."
"You are a very, very strange man. And I think, that after making me traipse all over this damned island, that you owe me breakfast."
"I surely couldn't expect you to cook, you walking disaster."
"Hmm, that may be, but at least it means you have to cook."
"Right as usual. OK. But only if you go back to that third barn and get me some fresh eggs...Hey!"
Shanks danced out of the way as Ben made to whack him on the back of the head again.
"Alright, alright. I get it. No more barns."
"Toast will be just fine, thank you."
"Toast it is. Now, do you remember how to get back to the ship? I kinda got turned around in the searching last night."
Ben sighed. No surprise there. But he knew where to go, and he pointed Shanks in the right direction. The captain charged off, and he was all too happy to be following him back to the ship.
Once again a vaguely weak ending...the second half or last third of the bits I wrote earlier. Now all I gotta do is go back and write about the misadventures of Shanks and Ben and livestock...oooh kinky (not). I like it though...even with the bit of sap. 'Cause goddamit sometimes ya need sap. I feel a bit better now. Not so damn whiney.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2004-07-04 01:05 am (UTC)The writing was good-- just the right amount of humor worked into the story in a very effective way. The lead-in let you move back into humor much more effectively.
I'm very impressed. This is nice. ^_^
no subject
Date: 2004-07-04 11:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-07-04 11:14 pm (UTC)Anyway, I figured that was what you were going for after reading the last Ben/Shanks smutfic you wrote. ^_^;;
-k.