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2023-11-02
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Gentle Hands

Summary:

Soon after Jinbe joins the crew, they invite him to partake in all their cook has to offer.
He decides to observe, instead.

Notes:

Wahooo it's finished!! Took me a while but a little break was just what I needed.
⭐illustration by @meldoujin on twt 👉here!👈 It's gorgeous, please check it out⭐

Ok so, 2 disclaimers:
1. Explicit verbal consent is given just once, at the start.
2. I just can't imagine Luffy having sex, personally; not that I think he's "too pure" or doesn't understand it or w/e, just that I think he's like, WAY too adhd and silly and so he's just here to touch, look, love, and have fun, but you can read it any way you like of course! Maybe he's just not interested THIS time.
(Speaking of, I was just vague enough with certain descriptions that you can read several characters as trans if you prefer.)

ALSO, depending on the reception, I had planned to write a second chapter where Jinbe does participate. 🦈💙

Anyways that's enough talking. Please enjoy ❤️

Work Text:

When they lead him into the room, Jinbe does not look straight ahead. He looks at their hands guiding him; on him, but neither pushing nor pulling. It has to be unequivocally his choice to be here, and it is.

He proves it by stepping reverently over the threshold, but still he cannot bring himself to see what waits in the center of the spacious room. Not yet.

He looks to the floor, at first. Beautiful smooth hardwood planks, polished to a shine. Like much of the ship, it's Franky's handiwork.

Blue is reflected across the glossy beams; the circular space is ringed with a massive curving aquarium, dimly backlit and glowing like the ocean, like home. It's teeming with fish of all kinds -- caught mostly by Usopp, they told him.

There are heavy curtains in a style that Jinbe thinks might be Robin's choice -- they're dark and velvety and she looks right sitting shadow-like beneath them as they enter, her arms crossed in that pose she adopts when using her powers.

He doesn't check to see how she's using them. Not yet.

Nami's hand slips from his arm as she goes to the raven-haired woman, and though Robin's eyes are gently closed, a smile graces her lips when Nami whispers in her ear.

Luffy dashes from Jinbe's side with a wink, pulling Usopp along with him. Usopp squawks when Luffy half-jumps, half-trips, landing them both hard on the plush couch opposite from the girls; the couch circles the room same as the aquarium, bordering it to allow the occupants a view of the fish from any angle, but right now nobody is interested in the fish.

Usopp smacks his captain and Luffy laughs, apologizing in that non-apologetic way of his. His grin turns to a heated smile, and Jinbe watches both of their gazes be drawn to the great pole in the center of the room. He sees Usopp redden, but does not look to it himself.

Not yet.

Franky's huge robotic hand leaves his shoulder, but not before delivering a reassuring thump; the cyborg pushes past and takes a seat next to Nami, leaning over her to kiss Robin on the cheek. Nami grumbles in mock annoyance but leans against his solid chest; Franky ruffles her hair, messing it up, and she growls then in real annoyance while the cyborg cackles. Robin continues smiling serenely.

Something bumps Jinbe's hip.

It's Zoro; he's nudged him with his elbow, arms crossed. His eyebrows are less furrowed than usual, and a small smirk quirks his mouth. He's looking straight ahead as he speaks, not at Jinbe.

"Nervous?" he asks.

Jinbe takes his time answering, and when he does it's with a simple nod.

Zoro didn't see it, but he knows.

"No need to be." The swordsman strides over to his captain, propping his weapons against the wall at the very end of the couch, and sits comfortably cross-legged on the floor at Luffy's feet, eyes closed, waiting. Usopp leans down to say something and Zoro nods, once. Luffy laughs, joyful, and he and Usopp give Jinbe a thumbs-up in unison, giggling.

The last hand is on Jinbe's shoulder, opposite to where Franky's had been; Brook drums his skeletal fingers there as if coming to a decision.

"Well Jinbe, where shall you sit? I'll join you, if you like." Jinbe grins bashfully, shaking his head.

"Please, do what you'd normally do. Don't let me keep you -- I'll sit right here." Jinbe tilts his head, indicating the ground beneath his feet; he'll sit near the doorway, the furthest spot from the center of the room, but the best view.

"As you wish!" Brook gives his shoulder a bony squeeze before taking his place halfway between Franky and Usopp, yo-ho-ho'ing as he goes. He sits gracefully, leg crossed over his knee, fleshless hands folded patiently in his lap.

With the last of them in the room, Jinbe feels a tiny tap on his calf. It's Chopper, fidgeting nervously; it's easy to forget he's not as young as he appears.

"Be... be safe," he says, then louder, to the room, "Be safe, all of you! I'll be in the infirmary if you need me."

With that he leaves, closing the door behind him. Robin's voice cuts through the silence that follows.

"You heard our kind doctor, everyone. Let's not upset him, hmm?" The whole crew nods at once, save one, but Jinbe is not quite ready to acknowledge who.

He glances at Robin who has cracked an eye to watch him questioningly. He nods assent and takes his seat, cross-legged on the floor just as Zoro is. Robin's smile grows.

"Excellent. Shall we begin?" The crew stays silent; she's not talking to them, Jinbe realizes. He gulps. She was speaking to just one of the crew.

A moan breaks the silence and finally, finally, Jinbe looks.

The circular structure at the room's center is a service elevator, designed to carry food from the galley to here, or further up to the crow's nest. A counter rings the post at waist height and a few barstools sit around it on the opposite side, out of the way of the counter's single occupant.

The ship's cook sits upon it, held bodily against the post by Robin's devil fruit limbs, arms above his head, wrists clutched in delicate hands.

Fingers cover his eyes and mouth, but now his mouth is freed to allow his answer.

"Yes," Sanji whispers, writhing; his tight black slacks are bunched at the hips, crisp wine-red shirt opened to the second button with his tie rakishly loose, as it always was.

His knees had been pressed together, but with the single word he speaks, delicate arms bloom from the counter and spread them apart, holding him like that.

He whimpers.

All at once, the crew moves.

Luffy gets to Sanji first, kissing him, the captain taking his rightful share. Usopp comes next, sliding his arm around Luffy's waist in a loose hug, watching. His other hand brushes through Sanji's hair, allowing the silky bangs to trickle back against Robin's blindfolding fingers. Across the room she titters, ticklish. Usopp leans back and grins at her.

Behind him Zoro rises and stands nearby, arms crossed, still out of reach. Jinbe has the sense that he's eager, but waiting his turn.

Respecting his captain, even here.

The crowd in front of Sanji makes it unclear who has done it -- or if they all have, together -- but Jinbe's next full glimpse of the cook is a debauched one; his pants are undone, shirt fully open, and a mess on his abs proves he's already come. Jinbe wonders how many times it will be before the night is over, as Robin's ever-present limbs peel his shirt away and fasten a red ball-gag between his teeth.

Franky has slid forth a large board from some slot in the wall, clicking thick legs into position to produce a table that he brings over just in time for the others to carry Sanji to it, sit him on it, and pull his slacks off hungrily. His wrists are quickly restrained above his head by Robin and he's pulled down to lay on his back.

Luffy pulls off Sanji's underwear with Usopp's help, then contents himself with touching his cook all over, feeling his muscled thighs and, funnily enough, poking his nipple. Sanji jolts and Luffy laughs, and does it again. Usopp pushes the captain's hand away and gives the cook an apologetic kiss there, instead, then takes Luffy by the shoulder to wait and watch patiently with Zoro.

Patient, in the same way a tiger is patient before a sure kill.

Nami, with her sandals slipped off and moving silent as her thieving-cat namesake, goes to Sanji's side. He's hard again in her presence; his whole body wriggles in her direction but obeys Robin's gentle pressure. He whines.

Nami hikes up her tiny skirt, hooks her thumbs underneath, and pulls her panties down her thighs, calves, ankles, and off.

Sanji's nose begins to bleed.

"Not a word," she commands, unclipping the gag, "or I put it back on and leave."

Sanji nods. He flexes his freed jaw, licks his lips. Silent.

Nami braces her hands on the table and swings herself up, seating her perfect hips over Sanji's face.

She moans immediately, Sanji wasting no time with her pleasure. Her voice is soft but high and ragged, licked out of her by the cook's (apparently talented) mouth. He does with his tongue what his hands cannot, restrained as they are; Nami shakes and cants her hips above him, helping him be exactly where she wants him.

Jinbe hardly notices Usopp return. The man's calm presence is simply there all of a sudden. He leans over the table and taps Nami on the foot; she tips her head back, gaze cloudy through her sweet-smelling hair. Usopp grins and together they get back to their tasks -- Nami riding Sanji's face like her life depends on it, and Usopp taking Sanji's cock swiftly down his throat.

Sanji thrusts and whines, muffled in Nami's quaking thighs, until the sniper releases him and lets the cool air have him while he undresses.

It's quick. He's only wearing overalls; no shirt and apparently no undergarments, either. He climbs on the table to straddle Sanji's hips back-to-back with Nami, mirroring her. He hangs his head, reaching back; with an exceedingly quiet hiss he removes a plug from himself.

He places it on the table with a clack and rises on his knees, hand raised to catch something Zoro just tossed him. Usopp beams in thanks, eyes crinkling as they often do. He clicks open the bottle of lube and pours it over Sanji, capping and discarding it in his haste to sink, finally, onto the cook's red and weeping cock.

Sanji half-screams, half-moans into Nami, who has to stop for a moment at the sensation.

Usopp's only just begun, however, and Nami fights her building pleasure as their storyteller and sniper wrenches guttural gasps from Sanji with every slick glide down his cock.

Jinbe can see how easily the man takes it, and that unlike Nami, Usopp is mindful of Sanji's enjoyment, rolling his hips and taking sometimes just the tip, sometimes the whole length into his velvet walls with unerring rhythm.

Sanji is quieter now, gasping, whining, trembling. The two bodies above him notice the change and speed their efforts, fucking onto him with their own moans, taught and pitched to impending finality.

As one the three bodies shake and climax together; Usopp's hand works languidly over his own length, spend leaking with each pump; he squirms and jolts over Sanji's hips, no doubt filled by the cook's own release.

Nami's spaghetti straps have fallen off her shoulders. She moans contentedly, her head tipped back, hair sweaty around her temples. Sagging, boneless, Jinbe has to trust she's not suffocating the cook.


Robin likes the control, Jinbe decides. It's not the holding him down she likes, or his rare struggles. It's his submission that she loves.

When Nami and Usopp are done with him and Sanji does not immediately part his legs for Franky to take his place, Robin takes her satisfaction from coaxing him open again.

"You must share, Cook," she tuts. She advances from her spot like a panther, like a spider from her web. Her black heels clack and her tight dress glistens like oil on her body, covering everything yet leaving nothing unseen.

Her smile is entrancing. She leans in, her raven hair just barely brushing Sanji's cheek.

Despite her many hands holding him all over, stroking and restraining him in equal measure since the night began, this is the touch that makes Sanji moan.

"Surely there is enough of you to go around?" She asks, with a tone that suggests only one answer.

Sanji's eyes roll back and he nods, desperation in the way he spreads his wobbly and twitching legs further than Robin asks. She straightens up, eyes flashing.

Sanji will never deny her.

"Very good," she purrs, and stalks back to her preferred vantage point, fitting back into the shadows seamlessly. Jinbe shivers.

Franky is not nearly as graceful as his partner.

Where she glides, he is blunt. He's not clumsy as he prepares Sanji for his turn, but he is unrelenting. In that way, they are the same.

Sanji cries out against the ball-gag Franky has forced back into his mouth and arcs his body both into and away from the cyborg's fingers; having been swapped out for a rounded specialty model for this purpose, each of Franky's generously-sized fingers were now smooth and perfect for fucking the smaller man boneless.

It's not obvious from where he sits, but Jinbe thinks the one he's using is buzzing. Sanji shakes his head side-to-side, drooling around the gag; it seems almost against his will that his cock hardens again and spurts weak fluid, dribbling with the overstimulation of his prostate.

Franky chuckles lowly at his accomplishment -- an inventor pleased with the success of his creation -- as he withdraws the electric implement.

The cyborg surprises Jinbe then by tipping his head back and looking at him, amused and questioning.

You want a piece of this? He seems to ask, spreading Sanji's thighs with two massive thumbs for Jinbe's sake. You're big. But he would be ready for you now.

The fishman gulps; he does want to. But he shakes his head, smiling. Next time.

Franky beams and turns back to Sanji; the next finger clicks and flares with ribs along its length. Sanji moans in defeat when the whole thing whirs to life, spinning.


The swordsman's turn goes exactly how Jinbe expected, at first; he removes the ball-gag and drags Sanji from the table over to a blanket spread on the floor, where he pushes him roughly to the ground, first to his knees and then, with one hand on his back, slams his upper body down, forcing a grunt from the cook.

Zoro kneels behind him and leans forward to slip his black bandana between Sanji's teeth and gag him anew, tying it around the back of his head. Sanji glares, but his blush is fierce and telling; and when Zoro is done and has shrugged his robe off, he slides his fingers down Sanji's nape and the blonde man shudders.

"Good boy," Zoro rumbles lowly; Jinbe can see how much this affects the cook, can tell that he almost came just then. Can see the cook's eyes close in bliss as the swordsman's strong hand closes around the back of his neck and presses him down with inescapable weight.

Without further warning Zoro lines himself up and shoves in, cutting Sanji's cry short as he immediately starts fucking him, hard, muscles bulging and hips snapping almost angrily, forcing the blonde man's back to bend further and his legs to spread wider.

Moans punch out of Sanji with each thrust, his untouched cock bouncing beneath him, dripping in arousal. It's brutal, punishing, devoid of tenderness entirely, and yet Jinbe can't look away.

He knows this is a typical and consensual act between the two, just a fitting extension of their usual rivalry, but he finds himself searching Sanji's face for any sign that it isn't, peering past the sweaty curtain of hair that shifts in time to the swordsman's pace.

Sanji stares back at him.

A pulse of heat shoots straight to the fishman's groin.

For the first time that evening the cook looks straight at Jinbe, eyelids low but gaze sharp and hungry despite the brutal way his body is being used.

Zoro must have seen the way Jinbe stared, may have even felt his spike of arousal, because he suddenly leans back on his heels and hoists the cook up easily, Sanji's thighs spread wide and arms trapped between his back and Zoro's chest.

With the cook on full display and the swordsman's generous cock having never left him, Zoro whispers into Sanji's ear and begins fucking him again, pulling the completely restrained man down to meet his thrusts with arms so strong you'd think Sanji weighed little more than seafoam.

Both of them watch Jinbe as Zoro continues whispering against Sanji's jaw, and in response the cook nods desperately, still not breaking eye contact, and Jinbe comes to the slow realization that Zoro is talking about him.

Whatever the swordsman says next does the trick; Sanji groans and whimpers and tries in vain to pull his knees together as he comes, cock jumping; Zoro's hips halt flush with his ass, grinding deep with his teeth buried in Sanji's shoulder, fluids dripping down his tense thighs.

Through it all, they keep their eyes pinned on Jinbe.

Zoro releases the cook from his tight hold, letting his shaking legs drop; he hugs the man around the middle as he reaches up to pull the gag loose, letting Sanji breathe unobstructed.

He licks the bite mark he'd made, plucking a clean white cloth from a hand that appeared nearby, this time not Robin's but Usopp's, come to kneel with the pair.

Jinbe can smell the disinfectant; the crew may be reckless and... unorthodox, to say the least, but they listen well to their doctor's advice even in a time like this. Sanji hisses at the burning swipe of the cloth, but finds his mouth suddenly occupied by Usopp's, who kisses him gently and holds his cheek in his warm, brown palm.

Zoro discards the swab and lifts Sanji off his lap, pulling his -- surprisingly -- still-hard cock free and rearranges so he sits comfortably with the cook facing him on his lap.

Nami and Luffy join them, the captain hanging over Zoro's shoulders, grinning as he reaches down to presumably grope at Sanji's dick. Nami strokes the blonde's waist and leans in to kiss his cheek and jaw, soft breasts pressing against him. She takes Sanji's hand and places it over one breast, squeezing her fingers over his until he gets the hint and massages there, leaving her free to touch herself lower.

Usopp strokes Zoro, hand sliding easily over the shining, soaked length; he pulls Sanji's face away from Nami to lick into his mouth, earning a pout from the redhead who moves on to nibble the cook's neck.

Zoro merely leans his head against his captain's, watching the others take pleasure in Sanji even as the cook lifts his hips and Usopp directs Zoro's thick cock back into place, ready for round two.

Sanji sinks down, one hand around Nami and the other resting low on Usopp's waist until it slips under his hips and between those perfect cheeks, fingers apparently finding their goal when Usopp gasps against his mouth.

Luffy acts mostly as an interested observer, hands roaming wherever he pleases but never to himself, something the others seem to understand and emulate, enjoying his curious and loving touch but not pursuing it; thus, when he smiles adoringly at Nami and pets her from her red hair to her plump thighs, she moans and whines but ignores him to latch onto Zoro's huge bicep, positioning her hips close enough for the swordsman, at her urging, to plunge thick fingers into her slick heat.

Zoro chuckles lowly and kisses the crown of her head, her hips grinding intensely, out of sync with Sanji's as he rides the swordsman lazily, both of them pleasuring themselves exactly as they want to.

Usopp leans forward on Zoro too now, quaking around Sanji's skilled fingers, lips moved on to bite the steadfast swordsman's ear and puff hot breath there, eyes closed tightly, whimpering.

Meanwhile -- her job over for the moment -- Robin had allowed Franky to hike up her dress and please her, the cyborg holding her up against the aquarium glass, his head buried greedily between her thighs and her legs tight around his neck, crossed at the ankles.

Jinbe can't see it, but he suspects an errant hand or two had been sprouted to tease Franky, judging from his bucking hips.

Brook, looking for all the world like he was simply waiting for a train, watches the pair for a time and then back to Sanji's group; Jinbe swears he sees some bittersweet emotion play over the dead man's bony face when Luffy wraps the group in a stretchy embrace and hums and laughs joyfully -- but surely that's impossible for a bare skull, right?

It isn't long before the building sounds of desperate exertion break into varied orgasmic cries, each of the participants surrendering to their own form of completion; clever fingers withdraw, tired tongues give parting licks, and last of all Sanji, already half-asleep, is lifted from Zoro's lap and laid carefully on the blanket below.

Towels are passed around but, conspicuously, none make their way to the resting cook. In fact the group moves away to take care of themselves and each other, ready for a shower and a long, satisfying sleep, leaving Sanji, the star of the show, the love of their nights, alone on the floor as they trickle out of the room past Jinbe.

It isn't lack of care for the man, however; he hasn't been simply used and left neglected, not at all.

It's respect for the night's final act, and unwavering trust that it will be done right.

It's Brook's turn.

When everyone else is gone, he rises from his spot slowly.

With all the patience of a stone he approaches Sanji and carefully kneels at his head, cradling his golden crown in a bony lap.

Sanji shivers at his touch but leans into it; the musician strokes his hair, fingers carding over Sanji's scalp light as air, dancing down to his neck and jaw to stroke and linger and feel him.

Sanji's shivering ceases; he no longer trembles and his breathing slows.

Jinbe can feel that his heartbeat has slowed, too.

Brook hums, and had the skeleton possessed eyelids, Jinbe guesses his eyes could be closed as he tunes the worn-out cook like a precious instrument.

He looks pleased, though Jinbe doesn't know how he knows that.

Brook feels down Sanji's chest and arms, pausing at the bondage marks and shallow bites, stroking both to soothe and to check for discomfort. He turns Sanji gently on his side to search his back, finding nothing but pleasantly-stinging marks of love and lust.

It is Brook, after all is said and done in matters of the flesh, who produces a warmed washcloth and curls over their cook reverently to clean him.

Brook is the one trusted to tend to beloved Sanji; it is how the dead man shows his love and takes his pleasure.

He ends it with his bony fingers gliding through gold bangs again, his other hand drawing forth an object from his suit coat's inner pocket.

It is a pair of panties.

Were it any other time or place, Jinbe would have laughed at the skeleton's absurdity, but here, the soft blue and thin cotton was exactly right.

Here, where Brook expertly slides them up his muscular legs and, with an effortless lift of hips, snug over Sanji's abused pelvis.

Now, when Sanji is sated and loved half to death, falling asleep in comfortable, crafted bliss, the garment is perfect.

Brook carries Sanji to the couch and lays him down, fetching a clean blanket from the cupboard to tuck over the cook's sleeping form. He watches for a time, arms crossed behind his back.

Finally he turns and crosses to Jinbe, dropping to sit beside him, two old men having watched over their crew in their most intimate time.

"You understand now," Brook says. It's not a question. Jinbe gulps and nods, and after a hum of pleased agreement, the musician rests his skull against the shark man's wide upper arm with a minute clack of bones.

"These young ones really know what it means to live," Brook says wistfully.