Your Love...
Dec. 15th, 2005 06:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
chibi_trillianBehold what happens when ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
asherhyder and I have a fandom Mexican standoff.
Title: Better Than Ice Cream
Series: One Piece
One Piece: Not mine.
Rated: PG-13 for language and improper treatment of ice cream.
Notes: Sanji/Zoro shonen-ai. Inspired by Sarah McLachlan's "Ice Cream." It's not exactly a giftfic, since what happened was closer to Nami saying "I'll give you a present...if you get me one first." The "present" is this picture byasherhyder, so this fic is a full multimedia experience.
Your love is better than ice cream, better than anything else that I’ve tried…
“Ooooooh shit, this is good.”
Zoro looked grumpily at Sanji. He was practically spooging his pants in the middle of the street, and, for a change, it wasn’t over some pretty woman.
“Mmmmmm…”
Sanji was getting a massive chef-boner…for an ice cream cone. Admittedly, this island was renowned throughout all the Blues for its ice cream and other dairy products, but still, it was frozen moo juice. With sugar. Not worth the production Sanji was making out of it.
Sanji’s pink tongue slipped out to molest the ice cream cone again. Molest, because that’s what it was: food molestation. Little flicks and curls and slurps, with way too much cream-covered tongue showing. Of course Sanji didn’t have the balls to take decent, man-sized bites, and fuck brain freeze because a real man doesn’t care about that.
Real men didn’t eat ice cream cones to start with, actually, which was why Zoro didn’t have one. Not that he had wanted one or anything. Any chance he had of desiring one had vanished when Sanji had offered to pay like they were on a date or something and Zoro was Sanji’s bitch. No thanks, stupid Love Cook. You can have your girly ice cream all to yourself.
“I want the recipe.”
Damn. That must be some good ice cream.
“Hold this while I go talk to the stand owner, marimo-head. DON’T EAT ANY.”
And Zoro was left in the middle of the street holding an ice cream cone.
The hell?
He looked down at the ice cream cone. It looked back. It had been pretty thoroughly ravaged by Sanji’s tongue, licked into a smooth, rounded mound. It was also starting to melt. Zoro glared at the cone, willing it not to drip down onto his hand.
Naturally, it started trickling liquid ice cream onto his knuckles. Dammit. Sanji had said not to eat any, but Zoro wasn’t going to stand here with frigging sugar spooge running down his hand. He might need to fight at some point, and he wasn’t touching his swords with hands that were sticky with anything other than blood.
So he glanced over to make sure that Sanji was still occupied, and started licking at the mess on his hand.
Sanji was right. This was good. It was just the right amount of sweet, with an odd, faintly smoky aftertaste that he really, really liked…
Wait…smoky?
Shit, he’d just gone “yum” over Sanji-spit.
Sanji naturally chose that moment to show up. “IDIOT! What part of ‘Don’t eat any,’ didn’t you get?” Zoro could tell he was only restraining a kick because he didn’t want the cone to get hurt.
Zoro quickly licked the last of the ice cream off his lips. “The part where you shoved your melty-ass dessert into my hand and expected me to stand here with it oozing all over me.”
“Bastard. That ice cream is like a beautiful woman; it needs to be savored and appreciated by someone with the right sense of aesthetics to delve all of its wondrous depths of flavor. It’s utterly wasted on uncultured swine like you. Give it back.”
Zoro handed the frozen treat over with only a little reluctance. He was proud of himself.
“All of it.”
“The hell? I gave you the fucking ice crea—WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!”
Sanji had just licked him. On the cheek, where a little splatter of ice cream had dripped while he was cleaning his hand.
“Taking what’s mine.”
Then Sanji licked him again. Slower, this time, like he was savoring it. Zoro could feel his cheeks going red and his heart pounding. Because Sanji was being a freak in public, of course, not for any other reason.
“A little salt makes it taste sweeter, I think. I’ll have to remember that. Thanks, marimo-head.”
Zoro touched his damp cheek as Sanji turned around and went strolling down the street happily eating his ice cream cone. Smoke and ice cream. Maybe Sanji would smoke while making his own batch of this stuff, and it would impart the same flavor.
Or maybe he could get it at the source.
asherhyder and I have a fandom Mexican standoff.Title: Better Than Ice Cream
Series: One Piece
One Piece: Not mine.
Rated: PG-13 for language and improper treatment of ice cream.
Notes: Sanji/Zoro shonen-ai. Inspired by Sarah McLachlan's "Ice Cream." It's not exactly a giftfic, since what happened was closer to Nami saying "I'll give you a present...if you get me one first." The "present" is this picture by
asherhyder, so this fic is a full multimedia experience.Your love is better than ice cream, better than anything else that I’ve tried…
“Ooooooh shit, this is good.”
Zoro looked grumpily at Sanji. He was practically spooging his pants in the middle of the street, and, for a change, it wasn’t over some pretty woman.
“Mmmmmm…”
Sanji was getting a massive chef-boner…for an ice cream cone. Admittedly, this island was renowned throughout all the Blues for its ice cream and other dairy products, but still, it was frozen moo juice. With sugar. Not worth the production Sanji was making out of it.
Sanji’s pink tongue slipped out to molest the ice cream cone again. Molest, because that’s what it was: food molestation. Little flicks and curls and slurps, with way too much cream-covered tongue showing. Of course Sanji didn’t have the balls to take decent, man-sized bites, and fuck brain freeze because a real man doesn’t care about that.
Real men didn’t eat ice cream cones to start with, actually, which was why Zoro didn’t have one. Not that he had wanted one or anything. Any chance he had of desiring one had vanished when Sanji had offered to pay like they were on a date or something and Zoro was Sanji’s bitch. No thanks, stupid Love Cook. You can have your girly ice cream all to yourself.
“I want the recipe.”
Damn. That must be some good ice cream.
“Hold this while I go talk to the stand owner, marimo-head. DON’T EAT ANY.”
And Zoro was left in the middle of the street holding an ice cream cone.
The hell?
He looked down at the ice cream cone. It looked back. It had been pretty thoroughly ravaged by Sanji’s tongue, licked into a smooth, rounded mound. It was also starting to melt. Zoro glared at the cone, willing it not to drip down onto his hand.
Naturally, it started trickling liquid ice cream onto his knuckles. Dammit. Sanji had said not to eat any, but Zoro wasn’t going to stand here with frigging sugar spooge running down his hand. He might need to fight at some point, and he wasn’t touching his swords with hands that were sticky with anything other than blood.
So he glanced over to make sure that Sanji was still occupied, and started licking at the mess on his hand.
Sanji was right. This was good. It was just the right amount of sweet, with an odd, faintly smoky aftertaste that he really, really liked…
Wait…smoky?
Shit, he’d just gone “yum” over Sanji-spit.
Sanji naturally chose that moment to show up. “IDIOT! What part of ‘Don’t eat any,’ didn’t you get?” Zoro could tell he was only restraining a kick because he didn’t want the cone to get hurt.
Zoro quickly licked the last of the ice cream off his lips. “The part where you shoved your melty-ass dessert into my hand and expected me to stand here with it oozing all over me.”
“Bastard. That ice cream is like a beautiful woman; it needs to be savored and appreciated by someone with the right sense of aesthetics to delve all of its wondrous depths of flavor. It’s utterly wasted on uncultured swine like you. Give it back.”
Zoro handed the frozen treat over with only a little reluctance. He was proud of himself.
“All of it.”
“The hell? I gave you the fucking ice crea—WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!”
Sanji had just licked him. On the cheek, where a little splatter of ice cream had dripped while he was cleaning his hand.
“Taking what’s mine.”
Then Sanji licked him again. Slower, this time, like he was savoring it. Zoro could feel his cheeks going red and his heart pounding. Because Sanji was being a freak in public, of course, not for any other reason.
“A little salt makes it taste sweeter, I think. I’ll have to remember that. Thanks, marimo-head.”
Zoro touched his damp cheek as Sanji turned around and went strolling down the street happily eating his ice cream cone. Smoke and ice cream. Maybe Sanji would smoke while making his own batch of this stuff, and it would impart the same flavor.
Or maybe he could get it at the source.
