Late into the night aboard the Red Force, the crew’s festivities raged loud into the black, starry sky. Another successful day of pirating–there was no other notable occasion to host such a celebration–and spirits were high.
Of course, it wouldn’t be a party without alcohol. And seeing as Shanks had pilfered a storehouse’s worth of premium rum from an illegal smuggler, it flowed like water through all of the crew’s tankards. Smooth and sweet, and much higher quality than the usual stuff you were able to get your hands on.
You laughed and sang to the background sound of jaunty sea shanties. The few cremates with any musical talent had broken out their instruments and composed for all to hear, just as drunk as the company they played for.
Shanks watched the party from the sidelines, enjoying his own barrel of rum to himself, a specialty marked one that had been hidden away in the captain’s quarters. It must have been the highest quality stuff to be secluded away from the rest of the crew. And, having the fortunate title of captain himself, Shanks thought he’d also give himself a little reward. His own private reserve.
But the more he drank, the more…hot he became. Sure, drinking always made you feel warm and fuzzy, but this was entirely different. A man who drank as often as him would be able to tell the difference, and notice he did. After his fourth tankard of the stuff, he peered into the bottom and frowned in thought, head cloudy and slow.
And then you laughed raucously, snatching his attention away from his tankard and holding it as you sway and sing along with your fellow crew mates. His attention is rapt on you, unable to look away from any of your movements, and it’s then that he begins to realize what the specialty marked barrel actually was.
He swallows thickly, eyes trailing down your neck. His mind fogs over and spirals down the rabbit hole of increasingly lewd and naughty thoughts. His hand clenches tightly, trying to ward off the increasing need to drag you away from the crowd where you can both get some privacy.
Usually he was a lot more subtle with his advances to you, but the burning lust coursing through him was so unusual, and so persistent. His hand tremble around the tankard, and with a shaky exhalation, he tenses his muscles to stand and approach you-
“Wahh!” He hears you cry, just a moment after an wobbly-footed crew mate stumbled his way beside you, dumping the contents of his full tankard all over you and your clothing. You sputter, shaking off the sudden wetness with a gasp.
Everyone looked towards you, the music dying down for a moment as the moment passed. They were unsure what your reaction would be, but given the atmosphere and the light-hearted mood, you only gave a loud belly laugh.
“I’ll be back!” You cried, excusing yourself from the festivities to, presumably, change clothes into something not covered in rum. The music picked up again, crew mates laughing at your sudden misfortune.
Shanks could hear his inner reasoning whispering to sit down and enjoy the rest of the night with his crew. But the louder, much more persistent and persuasive aphrodisiac the smuggler’s rum was laced with, pulled him from his seat by the railing and pushed him to follow after where you had disappeared to in the lower decks.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
You peel away the wet clothes, now soaked and sticky, smelling of sweet rum. You sigh in relief, feeling the uncomfortably clinging fabric leave your skin. They land on the floor with a wet slap, leaving you in nothing but your undergarments.
Unfortunately, your skin underneath still felt sticky, and you decide that perhaps a shower is in order, to truly get yourself free and clean from the spilled alcohol. You can feel your thighs stick as you walk around your room.
A sudden knock has you looking towards the door, frowning. The whole crew saw the accident, saw you leave. Why were they looking for you so soon? Did you forget something? Mindful of your state of dress, you stalk to the door and hide yourself behind the wood, creaking it open a few inches.
“Captain?” You ask, seeing the bleary-eyed man leaning against the doorframe just beyond the crack. He looks as concentrated as he can be, given his wobbly state.
“Y/N, please…” He mutters, eyes flicking up to your face. “Let me in, won'tcha?”
You blink, shaking your head. “I’m not dressed-”
“Damn it, I know…” He groans, head thumping against the wall. “It’s drivin’ me wild, thinkin’ about it. There was somethin’ in the rum…”
“In the rum?” He wasn’t making sense now.
“Y/N, I’m gonna combust out here…if I don’t get a taste.”
You freeze, face suddenly hot and your heart thumping hard against your chest. You knew that look. He was imagining all the ways he’d make you cum, in his head. “Taste-?”
“Just wanna taste it…wanna taste you…” He continues on, rambling half to himself now. He hasn’t made a move to push his way in, but you’re sure he certainly wants to, a desperation in the way he’s hunched his shoulders, leaning against the frame. “Please…”
“I…” You let out a breath, flustered and shaky at the thought of opening the door to him. He was pretty far gone on rum…then again, when wasn’t Shanks partially drunk?
And when he looked at you so longingly, spoke to you so breathlessly, asking to do such dirty things…you couldn’t resist.
You step back to open the door enough that he can make his way inside. He groans the moment he sees you in nothing but your undergarments, hastily stepping inside as soon as the door cleared. It shuts behind him with a kick of his boot.
His hand buries itself in your hair, bringing your mouths together in a crushing kiss. You moan, a shot of hot lust coursing through you at the way he presses your bodies together. He’s rushed, almost frantic. As if he truly would catch fire if he didn’t have you up against him right this moment.
He walks you backwards in a stumble, lips molding sloppily against yours, until the back of your legs hit your bed. But he keeps pushing, until you’re on your back, pressed into the comforter.
Wet kisses begin to trail down your jaw, past your neck and through the valley of your covered breasts. You push yourself up on your elbows, watching him curve his lips along your chest and stomach.
His eyes are hyper-focused on your thighs, yet you’re still caught off guard as he latches his mouth to the flesh, hand lifting it up so he has better access. Teeth nip in spots he knows you’ll quiver in pleasure at, before smiling with glee and laving the sticky skin with his tongue.
He tastes your skin like a starved man given a feast, and you’re unsure if it’s you or the rum that he’s most after. Either way, you can’t help but tense and squirm under his attentions. You feel idiotic for forgetting how good he is with his mouth at anything he does.
For as hasty as he is, he takes his time with you, not missing a single inch of your precious skin, down almost to your knee and then back up towards your panties. He hums in delight, perhaps tasting the rum on his tongue or maybe you. Either way, he’s pleased with the result.
“Sweet girl…” He mutters into the flesh of your thigh, head closing in on your covered entrance.
And you gasp as his teeth snatch at the edge of your panties and pull down.
“Shanks-!” You cry, fingers digging into the plush comforter as his fingers tug them the rest of the way down, bearing your pulsing cunt to him.
“Want more…” He begs. “Let me have you?”
You can’t help but chuckle out breathlessly. “You always have me, Captain.”
He shoots you a pleased grin, before that devilish tongue of his swipes unashamedly along your slick. You nearly jump, but the force of his hand on your thigh stops you in place. Ragged, keening moans leave you in tandem with each fast swirl. You don’t know if you want to pull away or push in for more.
Shanks knows just where to pay attention, just where to target and how to tease you best. He’s the one on his knees, but you’re at hismercy as he chooses whether to let you cum or prolong this as long as he wants to.
You didn’t have enough rum to be drunk, but damn do you feel that way as your cunt is lapped and plunged into by your giving captain. You see stars as he suddenly switches from teasing flicks to dizzyingly precise and fast licks right where you needed him to.
Your toes curl, your hips jerking upwards as you chase that orgasm with whatever means you could. Shanks doesn’t slow and you’re crying loud into your room as his tongue flicks right against your clit in quick succession, rocketing you through the breach.
You shake and spasm around him, overstimulated cunt sending pleasurable yet painful signals you felt even in the back of your spine. You’re pushing his head away to stop the sensational assault, and he quickly gets the message, releasing you from his mouth.
“Fuck…” You breathe, chest rising and falling rapidly. “Shanks, that was-”
“-just the beginning.” He promised with smile, tearing off his cloak and shirt and rising from his knees to kiss you once more.
ns 15.158.61.20da2
