Fandom: One Piece
Genre/Rating: kind of PWP/soft R
Word Count: 2335
Summary: Walking home drunk from Blueno's bar in Water 7, Kaku bumps into a furious Lucci whose intentions he entirely misinterprets.
Warnings: A sex scene.
Notes: For op_fanforall request: "In my opinion Kaku is a total Uke, but he has too much guts to actually let himself behave like one. So, I want a "Drunk-Kaku-is-a-slut-fic" ^^ Please some smut. I don't care who he ends up with (Tilestone, Spandam, Blueno?), just make people know about it later :D."
Before Water 7, Kaku had been in the CP9 for two years. In that time, he'd never had a mission last more than a few months and he'd found a sort of comfort in the odd little family the group had become for him. He'd also found that he—well, he missed it. He missed the way Kumadori's hair formed lots of exclamation marks when he was surprised, and the scarcity of privacy there was with Fukurou around, and he even missed Jyabura's constant teasing. Sort of.
And, since he was maybe just a little be drunk and going all out with this, he missed Kalifa claiming sexual harassment whenever Spandam spoke to her, and Blueno doing whatever it was Blueno did that was different to now. Oh! Being unfriendly and emotionless. Which felt like a strange thing to miss, but Blueno's smile was always so unsettling.
He missed Lucci's voice too. And his suits. And how Hattori couldn't fly straight after a few drinks.
Kaku's foot caught on a cobble along the footpath and he stumbled, barely managing to regain his balance before he fell. Maybe…maybe he was more than a little drunk. Maybe moderately applied. Or very. Or, you know, completely smashed probably worked just as well as anything else.
He missed being sober too. Being sober was fun. He could walk faster and he could jump off buildings without having to worry that he might end up forgetting to engage Geppou and he never lost his hat. He missed his hat.
It had disappeared somewhere between leaving Blueno's bar and seventeen paces back when he'd realised it was missing and felt like chucking a hissy fit, except World Government agents don't chuck hissy fits over hats, even nice ones, so he didn't. Or he did a little. In his head. Or aloud. But not loudly. And he didn't stamp his foot like a child which he could have done.
Alright, so he'd done that too, but it was a nice hat. People didn't appreciate hats enough. Jyabura always laughed at his hats, especially after Fukurou told him how many Kaku owned. Jyabura was an idiot. Which wasn't to say Kaku didn't like him because he did; he was part of Kaku's family so Kaku had to like him.
Kaku tilted his head back and looked at the segment of sky visible above Water 7. If Jyabura was part of his family than he'd be an older brother; the mean kind. Kaku snickered. But didn't that mean Spandam was the dad?
Kalifa would have to be the mother, simply because she was the only woman in CP9, and Fukurou was the little brother who couldn't keep his mouth shut. Kumadori could be his crazy cousin and Blueno was—maybe Blueno could replace Spandam. Kaku didn't like Spandam enough for him to fit him into this strange family portrait. He should though, so Spandam could be that uncle nobody liked. That suited him.
But what was Lucci then? Lucci was—Lucci was hard, but, Kaku supposed, since Jyabura competed with him so much he'd have to be an older brother too. And Gyatherine fit into that picture so well, especially after Fukurou—and subsequently everyone on Enies Lobby—found out that the reason she wouldn't date Jyabura was because she fancied Lucci.
Kaku grinned as he returned his gaze to the path in front of him in lieu of tripping again and—oh! Speak of the devil really did work; there was Lucci.
Lucci glared, which wasn't, in itself, unusual (and Kaku had quickly established within the first few months of their acquaintance that he didn't much mind; mostly because he'd decided that Lucci secretly didn't hate him at all), but there was added menace to it. Not that Kaku noticed.
Hattori was glaring too, which he did notice and thought was a little mean. Kumadori wasn't the only one who fed him treats, but he remained the only member of CP9 Hattori liked aside from Lucci. A fact that Kaku still—privately—considered monumentally unfair.
"I have spent the last twenty minutes fielding enquiries about my pretty voice," Lucci greeted icily.
That phrase sounded familiar but—Kaku frowned in thought—he couldn't place where exactly he may have heard it. "Really? Why?"
There was a sound like teeth scraping together. "Because you are so intoxicated that you thought it was appropriate conversation. You idiot."
Oh. Oh. Now he remembered. Some of the new boys from other islands had been talking about things they missed about their hometowns. And then—then what? Oh, that's right.
I miss Lucci's voice.
"Oh," said Kaku. "Oh dear."
That did explain his train of thought earlier though. About missing things.
He used to speak all the time. Before the—well, we don't talk about it, but he had *such* a pretty voice.
Maybe it hadn't been a good idea to bring up Lucci, but he'd had to relate somehow. He couldn't just sit there in silence. That would have been weird. And rude. And Kaku wasn't ever rude if he could help it.
"In my defence," Kaku pointed out in an entirely too slurred way that only seemed to fuel Lucci's irritation, "you do have a very nice voice."
Lucci narrowed his eyes. "The only reason you aren't dead is because we need you to finish the mission."
"At least I didn't give us away." Which was true; he could have started spouting out about his nice room back at Enies Lobby or killing or something. He didn't miss killing though. He didn't mind it; it was fascinating, especially the way men with dignity would fall to their knees and beg when they saw the end coming, but it wasn't something he particularly enjoyed. Not the way Lucci and Jyabura did.
Lucci's response was to slam him against the nearest wall, cutting off this thought. And then, as Kaku struggled to recover both his bearings and his breathe—because, ouch, he hadn't engaged Tekkai in time—he said, "You will not drink on this mission and you will not compromise it again. If you do, you will die."
Kaku tried to focus on his face, but everything had become a little blurred as if the alcohol in his blood stream had just been given an almighty shake. He thought he'd grasped the main point of whatever it was Lucci had just said and the few inches that now separated their faces served to prove this. But he should check, really. Out of decorum at the very least. "Are you coming onto me?"
Lucci blinked. Still on his shoulder, Hattori did the same.
Somewhere in the back of Kaku's mind, a small part, less intoxicated than the rest, was screaming that what he was about to do was a Very Bad Idea. Which was stupid. And wrong. Lucci hadn't discredited his theory in any way and, yes, maybe it was practically incest but Kaku could accommodate. He could—he could change Lucci's role in his family portrait. He could be the adopted brother. There. That was much better.
Oh, but Lucci had been there first. So, really, Kaku should be the adopted brother. That made more sense, even if he didn't much like the new distance it put between him and the others. He nodded, failing to notice that for, perhaps the very first time, Lucci had been floored by something.
He did notice, however, that Lucci hadn't made any move towards what Kaku had accepted as a perfectly legitimate thing to do. "If you want," he suggested, trying and failing to sound debonair and seductive in the way he'd often heard Kalifa employ, "I could…make it up to you…"
And then he tilted his head just so, to make sure his nose didn't get in the way, and closed that already short gap. He abstractedly thought he felt the tip of his nose bump something feathered and Hattori made a protesting noise and flapped away, but then Lucci seemed to finally decide to participate in what he'd started and Kaku forgot about Hattori altogether as his head was pushed—much too roughly—against the brick wall and Lucci's tongue invaded his mouth.
Kaku felt an odd sort of pleasure run through his body as Lucci's teeth found his jaw and scraped along it and then down to his Adam's apple, digging in just enough to be painful. He grinned and his fingers found the top of Lucci's pants, dipping under and dragging his shirt out so he could slip his hands across that solid back.
Lucci made a noise against Kaku's throat that sounded suspiciously close to a purr and the short rush of breath that followed made the wet skin of his face feel suddenly icy so one hand left the task of outlining the scars of Lucci's back to slip into his hair and pull his mouth back where Kaku wanted it.
As Lucci resumed the assault on his mouth, Kaku realised something else. Lucci appreciated hats; he was always wearing that handsome top hat. Kaku wondered absently, his hands again finding the scars that made his fingers tingle deliciously when their tips touched a rough edge, whether Lucci had a secret reason for wearing his hat like Kaku once had. But, unless Lucci had needed to accommodate for height, which Kaku couldn't really see at all, there wasn't really anything, not like Kaku himself, who had always worn them to make his nose look shorter by comparison (which had never really worked as well as he'd once thought).
It didn't matter though, not really. Not when Lucci could make up for it with silky hair and rough scars, sharp teeth and wandering hands. And Kaku couldn't demand perfection, even from Lucci who sometimes seemed it.
Calloused palms suddenly brushed Kaku's hips, pushing up his jacket and shirt and exposing his stomach to the night air. Goosebumps rose along his arms and legs and he opened his mouth a little wider to protest. Instead, Lucci's tongue dipped deeper and swirled around and—and, oh, that felt good. Kaku squirmed against the body pressing him to the wall and moaned.
He could feel the downturn of Lucci's lips against his and realised that behaving like a wanton teenager probably wasn't much of a turn on, but the irritation was obviously short-lived because the nails of one of Lucci's hands were digging excruciatingly into his hip and the other was—oh, my—tracing an almost imperceptible pattern that may or may not have been Lucci's own name on the inside of Kaku's thigh, staking a possessive and invisible claim, like a wildcat marking its territory.
It was strange to feel such pain without doing anything about it, but Kaku trusted Lucci—probably much more than anyone ever should trust someone who so enjoyed causing suffering to others—and when his nervous system perceived a equal feeling of pleasure, so close by, it created a sensation he hadn't experienced to anywhere near as high a degree before.
The polite part of Kaku's mind firmly asserted then that, really, he should be repaying such a favour, so he slipped his hands towards Lucci's cock, which he could feel pressing against his own. But before they could reach this destination, Lucci cut them off, lifting Kaku's arms to curl around the back of his neck and, when Kaku retried the attempt, curtly insisting, "No," before unceremoniously pushing his thigh between Kaku's.
The mental training from being in CP9 that kept his mind whirring at a thousand miles an hour failed completely when Lucci did it again and Kaku's brain was wiped blank of hats and etiquette and families and how he definitely needed to do that laundry tomorrow morning because it was starting to build up, and all he could manage was a gasp that sounded vaguely like, "Again."
For one of the few times in his life, Lucci acquiesced without a raised brow or a sneer or barely-passable obedience, pushing his thigh forward into Kaku's straining cock, grinding in and out in measured circles and simultaneously kneading with his hands as he dug in and withdrew his nails from Kaku's hips until it felt like they were bleeding; pushing Kaku further towards the edge and making his mind scramble hopelessly.
A gasp, a murmur, then a breathy moan, and the tension released with sweet oblivion. He tilted forward, resting heavily against Lucci with his eyes shut, until the last remnants of his orgasm were over.
Lucci tolerated it only briefly before pushing Kaku away to lean against the wall behind him and stepping back, watching with a mix of satisfaction and contempt that only he could attain.
"But what about you?" Kaku asked, sobering enough in the afterglow to comprehend what had just happened—and what hadn't.
Lucci looked at him stonily for a moment as Hattori returned to his shoulder. He looked normal, disinterested and possibly somewhat irritable, if a little ruffled, and for all intents and purposes appeared as if he'd done nothing more than go for a walk in a slight breeze.
Kaku affectionately read into it that Lucci had enjoyed himself immensely but was too stubborn to let Kaku finish him off now that the moment was ruined. And, because it was Lucci, decided that whatever he said before he left didn't really apply as he very rarely said anything that indicated what he was feeling.
At last, Lucci replied. "Next time," he said, and his lips twitched upwards into what would, by Lucci's standards, be considered a besotted smile. "When you're sober."
As he walked away, Kaku frowned thoughtfully as his mind carefully processed the words to make sure he didn't miss a single hidden meaning. And though he'd been wrong about Lucci's reaction (even the closest of siblings could misjudge), he grinned.
Lucci had said next time and this mission at Water 7 was definitely taking a turn for the better.