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“C’mon, Sanji, you’ve been cooking all night! Take a load off,” Nami beckoned, speaking in that boisterous and blithe tone she favored when she was good and tipsy. It was hardly any wonder she’d taken the occasion to drink - they’d just come into a pretty big haul of gold, and she was always the happiest to have more for the crew’s shared funds.
“But my darling Nami! I am all too happy to serve,” Sanji crooned, scooping up plates as he went and directing a moony grin her way. “And besides, there’s a certain guy here who wanted a feast - I’d hate to disappoint.”
“Who, this guy?” Usopp snickered, and when Sanji turned to check, he saw Usopp indicating Robin’s lap. Luffy wasn’t quite asleep, but he was looking pretty boozed up, his head pillowed on Robin’s thighs - that was unusual for him. “For once, I think he’s good.”
Robin hummed in agreement, stroking Luffy’s hair with a quiet warmth all about her. Jealousy flared in Sanji’s chest - whether for her or for his beau, that remained to be seen.
“Oy, moron,” Sanji groused, lifting a foot to jab Luffy in the knee since his hands were occupied. “Weren’t you just bugging me for more meat?”
Damn, but he was cute, blinking blearily like that. He focused on Sanji with what seemed like a tremendous effort, and then a precious, joy-filled grin bloomed across his face. Sensing what was coming, Sanji abandoned both stacks of plates on a free surface - and there was Luffy, throwing himself into his arms with a happy holler.
“Sanji!” Luffy cheered, wrapping both arms and legs around him, and Sanji couldn’t help a lopsided grin of his own. Dammit - as reluctant as he’d been for as long as it’d taken him, he did love to bask in Luffy’s love like this, even with the rest of the crew’s eyes on them. “Sanji, my Sanji.”
“Good evening to you, captain… Luffy,” Sanji murmured, planting a kiss on Luffy’s cheek. Luffy pecked him right back on the lips. “Did you still want more meat?”
“Want my Sanji,” Luffy pouted. The slur on his tongue, the alcohol on his breath - he was properly wasted.
“Who got you to drink so much,” Sanji pondered aloud.
“Lil man wanted to prove he wasn’t a lightweight - chugged one of Zoro’s bottles all in one,” Franky provided, “It was pretty super!”
Sanji shook his head good-naturedly. “Moron.” He gave Luffy another quick kiss. “Got enough in your stomach? Don’t want you too hungover tomorrow.”
“Want meat…”
“Right, right, I’m -”
“Sanji’s meat,” Luffy giggled, and a stretchy hand grabbed at Sanji’s rear. Somebody wolf-whistled, and Sanji snorted.
“I’ll drop you right on your ass.”
Dramatic gasp. Luffy wound his rubbery limbs further around him. “You can’t!”
“If he’s all set on food, the rest of us’ll be fine,” Nami called to them. “C’mon, Sanji, let’s relax!”
A chorus of support echoed from all sides - Sanji sighed. “Lemme at least get the dishes.”
“Somebody else can do ‘em!”
“Then I’m tucking this idiot in before he hurts himself,” Sanji decided instead, and Luffy whined - even as he nuzzled into Sanji’s neck, rooting with a sleepy, vulnerable energy.
“‘Tucking him in’”, Robin teased in a low voice, and whoops passed around the deck again. Sanji rolled his eyes, deciding to make for the oft-neglected captain’s quarters. Luffy didn’t love waking up alone, but it’d probably be for the better twice over - Luffy wouldn’t wake anyone if he woke up sick, and the rest of the crew wouldn’t disturb him during his hangover the next day. Luffy wasn’t especially prone to hangovers anyway, what with his powerful constitution, but Sanji’d seldom seen him quite so drunk as this.
As the air grew quieter, Luffy only grew more clingy - not that Sanji was surprised. He was every bit the demanding lover, but it was hardly incongruous with how their relationship had always been - and Sanji felt warm at the thought that he only demanded so much because he knew Sanji could provide. That faith Luffy had in him - it’d been so hard to accept, but it was the highest honor to Sanji.
Sanji arrived at the captain’s quarters and, sensing that Luffy wasn’t about to unwrap himself from him, sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing between Luffy’s shoulder blades. Luffy was nuzzling between Sanji’s neck and his shoulder, and it hardly surprised him when he felt the brush of Luffy’s tongue there.
“And here I was thinking I’d be getting back outside,” he murmured, a complaint only in the most distant sense. Luffy snickered - and his intent couldn’t be mistaken, not here.
“I said I wanted Sanji’s meat,” he mumbled. He licked Sanji’s cheek - just licked it, like a dog, god why was that hot - and nuzzled him again.
“You’re wasted, idiot.”
Even as he complained, he didn’t resist when Luffy coaxed him back, still kissing as he pressed Sanji into a supine position. He was over-affectionate in every touch, cuter than he was hot except that he was hot, irresistibly hot. He wiggled in Sanji’s lap, sucking on his neck and his collar and between his pecs, tugging at Sanji’s floral-print shirt where he’d unbuttoned it down to his chest. Sanji petted his hair and Luffy paused for a moment, smiling so, so sweetly up at him.
He wiggled again. “Can I, Sanji?” he begged, heavy and honeyed, and.
Sanji heaved a sigh.
“Okay, Captain,” he said.
Luffy shot upward with a whoop - and swayed on the spot, heavily blinking wide, unsettled eyes. “Whoa. Whoa.”
Sanji tried to sit up too, to offer him a stabilizing hand - but Luffy hurriedly shook his head. He stifled a burp with a rare wince, and Sanji only grew more concerned.
“Maybe we should -”
“Nope! I’m good!” Luffy cut in, finally back to his usual beaming grin. “Just needed a second. Sitting up got me feeling weird.”
“You have been mostly staying still, the alcohol metabolizes slower that way,” Sanji reasoned - he cocked an eyebrow. “Maybe we could… metabolize together?”
“I’m gonna suck your dick,” Luffy decided, and Sanji had to snort at how he didn’t even try to engage with the wordplay. Luffy carried on talking as he stood unsteadily, allowing him to kneel between Sanji’s legs - uncharacteristically chatty of him, cute. “Cuz Sanji always takes care of me… cooks and - and stuff. And I wanna take care of Sanji, too.”
“And you have an oral fixation.”
“I have a… a that.”
Sanji propped himself up on his arms, peering lovingly down at Luffy as he began nuzzling at his still-clothed cock. If he allowed himself, he could invent any number of reasons why he should be the active party, rather than Luffy - not least of which because he was so drunk, and so vulnerable.
He’d been trying to be better about accepting Luffy’s love, though. And he was real cute about this - nuzzling and rooting and even licking Sanji’s pants, smothering giddy giggles as he did. With or without the oral fixation, Luffy was such a tactile person - it was genuinely easy to believe his enthusiasm for this, just for touching another person.
Sanji exhaled, long and hot, and reached down - squeezing his own thigh first, sliding his hand onto his bulge. Luffy gave him a curious look and kissed the tip of his thumb; Sanji rested it on Luffy’s lower lip, caught stock-still in Luffy’s wide-eyed gaze for just a moment.
Luffy smiled. He kissed Sanji’s thumb again, and he gently moved Sanji’s hand aside. He unzipped Sanji’s trousers and pulled the panels of either side forward, bracketing his cheeks as he licked over top of Sanji’s underwear.
Another, higher, exhale. “Who taught you how to tease,” Sanji tried for a scold, but even he could hear the waver in his voice. Luffy snickered.
The question wasn’t without its place - when they’d first gotten together, Sanji had been the one perpetually urging Luffy to go slower, to savor even the mental stimulation of foreplay. He almost had to beg Luffy to let him show him the pleasantries of a slower, tender sort of lovemaking; much as Luffy had matured in the time they’d known each other, Sanji knew it wasn’t the kind of thing that came intuitively to him.
The point was, Sanji appreciated the effort - even if, immediately following his making note of it, Luffy seemed to lose his patience. He straightened suddenly, stealing Sanji’s shoes right off his feet before turning his attention to his pants. Sanji had to aid him a little, pushing his waistband - of pants and underwear alike - down to his knees, and laughing aloud when Luffy shucked them the rest of the way off with a grand flourish.
Luffy then lifted him - not far, just enough to scoot him further onto the bed, enough that he could lie on his stomach rather than kneel on the floor - and landed in his rightful place with a bounce of the mattress and a high, joyful peal of laughter.
Laughter that cut off abruptly, leaving Sanji breathlessly laughing alone for a moment before he realized. Sanji looked to his partner again, faintly concerned to see one of Luffy’s cheeks puffed out. Was he pouting?
“Alright?” he prodded, and Luffy blinked. He exhaled, sounding almost careful about it.
“Yeah. I got it,” Luffy replied. He was quiet. But his smile returned soon enough, and Sanji haltingly returned it. “Meat time!”
“Yeah, yeah,” Sanji breathed, reluctantly charmed by the familiar cheer applied to this different context. “Enjoy it, you.”
Luffy grasped Sanji’s cock, dipping in to lick the bead of precum from the tip - that was a bright spot of sweet bliss, cut all too short. Luffy wouldn’t tease for long, though.
He opened his mouth wide next, and it was all Sanji could do to inhale before crying out hard enough to empty his lungs. Luffy made it look easy plunging to the very base of his dick, swallowing him all the way up -
No, something was wrong. Something was too - hot, and - full?
Watching Luffy retreat upward was something like horror, or like watching a bottle come uncorked upside-down. There was an aggressive stream parting around the intrusion, muddy brown liquid spurting out in a thin sheet - and then a proper stream.
Luffy shuddered as he rose. He puked on Sanji’s dick.
It felt, for a moment, like Sanji’s heart wasn’t beating. He wasn’t seeing Luffy, or hearing his stuttered, half-panicked apology. The only sensation for a moment was the hot, hot, chunky liquid on his dick, staining the tails of his shirt, seeping into the bedding beneath him.
Luffy burped. Urped. Just another little spout of puke. Sanji gasped when it hit him.
His heart was beating again. Too hard.
Luffy sniffed. He wasn’t crying, but his eyes were dewy. He was quivering like Sanji had never seen him do.
“It’s - i-it’s okay,” Sanji tried to say, pushing past the horror. When Luffy ducked down again, he thought that was okay. More puke couldn’t hurt now.
He felt a tongue on his thigh before he processed what he was seeing.
“Wait - Luffy!”
“It’s okay!” Luffy shot back - his voice sounded high, high and almost scared. “I’ll get it all, don’t worry!”
“I can clean it off myself, don’t - you’ll just get more sick, moron!”
Luffy looked at him, and for a second Sanji would have done anything for that face. That teary-eyed, sniffling, pouting face, with vomit dribbling down his chin.
“But Sanji’ll hate me,” Luffy choked out. “I can’t waste your food.”
Sanji gaped. At length, he recovered; “You already ate it once, stupid. It’s not wasted.”
“But it came back out!”
“It’s not food anymore,” Sanji tried to soothe him - but the expression he saw through the shock and the tears wasn’t giving him any consolation. Luffy was calling forth his most obstinate self, and Sanji knew damned well how damned hard it was convincing him of anything. “You’re not wasting food, okay? You’re making yourself feel worse.”
Luffy glared at him for a long second, his thick, dark lashes still wet with tears. He turned his head, and he slowly lapped his tongue over Sanji’s thigh.
“You…” Sanji groaned. He tried to get up - but Luffy grabbed both his thighs and hefted them, lifting his whole lower body such that he couldn’t move. “Luffy!”
“I’ll get it! All of it,” he swore, and Sanji startled. There was a tongue lapping at one of his buttcheeks!
“Lu-” he gasped, trying to - to brace with his arms against the bed, get some leverage, something. But Luffy was always stronger than his lean frame implied, and the combination of lingering shock and spikes of arousal had him feeling weak. He made one more token effort and gasped when his hand grazed a spot of rapidly-cooling vomit on the bedspread.
Sanji curled his toes. He felt Luffy carefully lapping up all the filth that had dribbled down to his ass from his front half, or smeared on him via the bedspread, and he took a shuddering breath.
Fuck. Fuck.
Was it just that Luffy was so seldom careful like this? Attentive and precise and thorough? He was cleaning every inch that he could, licking the whole of either of Sanji’s cheeks - while holding up the whole lower half of his body, no less - before nosing between, starting from the very peak of his crack and working down.
“L-Luffy - I haven’t cleaned -”
As though Luffy had ever cared about that. He grunted - almost purred, like this was just another dish served to him by Sanji and he was partaking with all the enthusiasm he always did. He diverted as he went, licking in the creases between Sanji’s ass and thighs.
Dammit!
“Fuck,” Sanji breathed, low, swooning from the head rush and the attention and all else. He felt hot, flushed. He could feel trickles of fluid tracing up his stomach, seeping into his shirt and tickling like teasing hands. This sensation of being overpowered was good, and furthermore by someone weakened by sickness and trembling…
And of course, the icing on the cake was Luffy’s reasoning. What better way to indicate his care for food - Sanji’s food - than to eat it all up a second time?
Sanji looked down-up at his torso and crotch as Luffy carried on, blearily taking in everything that had come up. His gut lurched at the sight, only halfway neutralized by his overpowering arousal; Luffy was licking up thinner streams of liquid, but actually on his dick there was a mushy, half-solid layer of half-digested party food slowly cooling, caking itself on. One of the chicken wings still had its whole bone intact, and a distant part of him wanted to lecture Luffy about actually chewing his damned food.
Luffy was beginning to lower him down, licking up the backs of his thighs, and Sanji realized something with a start. “W-wait - don’t put me down here!” he begged, wincing at the thought of the pool of cold vomit under him.
“Hm?” Luffy perked up, distracted. He dropped Sanji’s ass so that he could meet his eye, and Sanji sucked in a cold, awful breath at the feeling.
“There’s… a puddle of puke under me,” he said in a thin voice. Luffy made a regretful noise of understanding, all too late. “It’s… fine.”
He sort of shuffled, sort of crabwalked to the side of the offending pool, not wanting to spread the vomit along with him. It did occur to him that this was his chance to get up, to run along to the baths and jump in before Luffy could catch him, but -
Dammit. Even with everything that’d happened, his idiot dick was still hard.
Sanji cast a look at Luffy, who hadn’t followed him. Luffy was bent down close to the puddle, and when he met Sanji’s eye, he was chewing something. He had even more vomit smeared on his chin and even over his lip, and a little brownish smudge on his nose. His dark-brown, almost-black eyes shone with guileless charm, all the more so when he smiled wide - with a big bit of seasoning stuck on one of his teeth.
He should not have been so cute. Not like that.
“That can’t taste good,” Sanji muttered.
Luffy plucked one last chunk of filth up off the bedspread with his teeth - what looked to be a chunk of potato skin - and spoke around his mouthful. “Sanji’s food always tastes good!”
“Equating my food with the vomit that results isn’t a compliment!”
“Oh. I mean - it tastes good, even when it, uh…”
“Shut up,” Sanji grunted. He swallowed, weighing his own repulsion and nausea against his arousal. There was something awful, and incredible, about this wet mess weighing down on his cock. He shuddered, glancing down at himself again - and with incredible shame, he spread his legs. “Y-you’ve got… you’ve got more over here.”
“Oh, yeah!” Luffy bounced into the appropriate spot once more, and Sanji swallowed when he saw him wince again, grasp his stomach for a split second. “Oh.”
“You can puke again,” Sanji rasped, hardly believing his own ears. “If it makes you feel better.”
Luffy seemed to think that over - as though it was an impulse he could control, in any meaningful way. “I’ll be okay, this time. I think.” And then, he grinned. “I’m still gonna clean you all up!”
Sanji exhaled. He lifted his thigh, inviting Luffy in. “I think… some more got on my ass. When you dropped me.”
“Whoops!” Luffy planted his hands at the pits of Sanji’s knees, lifting him again - and Sanji’s head swam. The heat in his cheeks contrasted horribly against the cold liquid seeped most of the way into his shirt now, and he had half a thought to remove it.
That was what a sane person would be doing. Sanji clearly wasn’t particularly sane right now.
He basked in the space between that heat and the cold, and Luffy lapped up whatever had transferred from the sheets to his ass. He was quicker this time, not so exacting about getting to every square inch. It was no wonder - he’d already cleaned there once, and he had so much left to go.
Luffy put Sanji down more carefully this time, and immediately negated whatever effect that had in containing the mess when he folded Sanji’s thighs up against his torso.
Sanji shuddered and gasped, feeling that big, thickening cake on his dick squish and squelch over his thighs and his stomach. It felt cold but not, not having lost its temperature quite so fast as the thinner sheets of liquid but still bad, bad and congealed and filthy and amazing. It’d be matted into his pubic hair, wouldn’t it - clinging to him in all the worst and best-concealed places.
But if Luffy processed the new complication, he didn’t let it distract from his task. He licked up and around both of Sanji’s thighs, the inside and the outside. He let Sanji’s thighs come down around him as he worked his way up the insides, and eventually he must have seen the mess he’d spread because Sanji heard him say a low “oops.”
Sanji had a consolation halfway out of his lips when Luffy licked a clean stripe through the mess of one thigh, all the way up to the crease of his hip. Shit.
“Why the fuck is this so good,” Sanji hissed, half to himself. At Luffy’s noise of interest, he half wished he hadn’t.
“Really? I didn’t ruin everything?”
Sanji squinted through the whatever of everything he was feeling - it was awful, it was amazing, why did he like this so damned much - to see Luffy looking almost hopeful.
And adding to the arousal and the horror, his heart was melting too. Ugh.
“What, did you do it on purpose?” Sanji tried for a deadpan, but he couldn’t help the warmth in his tone. “Idiot.”
Luffy giggled a little, sinking back down to resume. Sanji folded his lips around his teeth as he came up higher and higher, further and further inward. Sick heat wound up the sides of his neck when Luffy lapped at the uppermost parts of his inner thighs, even nudging his balls aside to get at every crease of his legs. Sanji let his head fall back, panting and all but tasting that sour vomit-scent coating the air as he did.
But Luffy didn’t start on his genitals just yet. He worked up over and around Sanji’s hip, slurping up chunks of puke as he did, and started licking Sanji’s stomach. He even sucked the tails of his shirt into his mouth, wringing fluid from the fabric as best he could, and even that - feeling cold air rake up his stomach where Luffy pulled it away from his skin - was so much.
Sanji chanted curses with whatever breath he had. He wished, prayed, that Luffy’s newfound patience would cave - but it didn’t, and even that was damned good. His stomach wasn’t even as much of an erogenous zone for him as it was for Luffy, or his thighs were for him. It was the drawing out of it, the slow, slow circling toward where he needed it. It was how he’d felt heat pulse all out to every extremity so many times, he felt like he could burst into flames. Wait, could he actually do that?
He felt spikes of arousal like lances with every stroke of Luffy’s tongue now. He was zigzagging back down now - on level with his hips, and lower, and lower. He paused to take extra time to tug something from Sanji’s pubic hair with his teeth on the next pass, and that tiny spike of pain made Sanji cry out.
Luffy giggled. Sanji fought to even out his breath.
“You’re - you’re enjoying this?!” Sanji panted, and Luffy blinked innocently.
“So’re you.”
Shit.
He really, really was.
And Luffy did it again - scraping at Sanji’s pubic hair as best he could, working all the way up to the very root of his shaft. When he lifted Sanji’s balls again from the bottom, sparing effort for his taint, Sanji thought he was finally going to cum.
Hold it, hold it. Luffy deserved a fresh treat after all the effort he’d gone through.
Sanji felt high when Luffy’s lips carefully formed around his balls. He could’ve stretched his mouth, taken them all in at once - but no, he lip-nibbled all over their expanse, picking little clumps out of the sparser hair there, and it was so good.
He had to grit his teeth as Luffy slowly, slowly worked his way up. Soon. So, so soon, it would just be his dick left. His eyes stung with the effort - god, he could cry.
Lick up and around one side, then the other. Please, please, it was time. It was just his dick. He could almost see how purple it was from over-arousal through the mess of it. He never would’ve ever thought he’d want to see his dick this way.
Luffy formed his fingers into a ring around the base. He pulled up, up, pulling the mess with him, forming some… awful… hors d'oeuvre of refuse that he held in his hand.
And he ate it as joyfully as he ate anything Sanji made for him. He did it messy and happy and cute, and Sanji was going to sob.
“Pleasepleaseplease,” Sanji hiccuped, and Luffy blinked.
“Oh, yeah!” he started. He retreated downward and swallowed Sanji’s dick down just as easily as he’d done earlier that night.
It was over, all over. Sanji cried out - and cried, period - like a virgin, driven mad by all that waiting.
Luffy crawled up his body as he came, and he cuddled up to Sanji’s side. He didn’t seem afraid of whatever mess still lingered - that wasn’t surprising. It was Luffy, after all. And besides, Sanji realized as his vision cleared, his face was still a mess - of cum as well as puke, now.
He sucked in a belabored breath. He leaned his forehead against Luffy’s. He still had a little puke on his nose.
Well. Waste not, want not.
Sanji flicked his tongue over the tip of Luffy’s nose, his heart singing at the startled giggle he got from his partner. The taste wasn’t good - but after all Luffy had done, it was the least he could do. He rolled, situating himself half-on top of Luffy, and started lapping up the vomit on his chin, working his way up toward his mouth, drinking in every titter and snicker he got on the way.
And Sanji kissed him. And he loved him so, so much.
And then he scooped Luffy up in his arms and stood, ignoring Luffy’s astonishment.
“Time for a bath,” he decided aloud, and Luffy squawked in disgust.
“Ew, no!”
Sanji squinted at him. He barked, “You just ate your own barf, idiot! You don’t get to say ew now!”
“I don’t wanna. I’m tired. And I’m sick!”
“You’ll feel better if you’re sick and clean,” Sanji argued, deciding he’d just go out without covering his lower half. They’d all seen each others’ dicks more times than they could really count - this situation was a clear excuse. (And if sweet Nami did happen to see him - no! He’s taken!)
Luffy was quiet for a moment - he let Sanji open the door and kick off into the air, taking the shorter route to the baths. “Next time,” he mumbled, wrapping his arms around Sanji’s neck and nuzzling warmly into him, contrasting the cool night air, “I’m really gonna take care of you. I promise.”
Sanji pondered that. He tried to look at Luffy - but his face was buried into his neck. After another moment, he kissed the crown of his head.
Little did Luffy know - Sanji felt quite loved enough.