One Howling Adventure 7 (Patreon)

I admit, despite sharing a bed the last couple weeks, this was the first time I’d had Nami sitting in my lap. I wasn’t complaining mind you, even if no one believed her excuse about our table not having enough chairs. So the four of us (myself in human form) were waiting for the waiter to take our order, when I saw the instantly identifiable form of Sanji making his way over to a certain asshat marine lieutenant.

Gently nudging Nami’s side, I pointed them out and whispered, “I get the feeling we’re about to get a show.”

“WHAT’S THAT FLY DOING IN MY SOUP!” Asshat Marine shouted.

“Forgive me sir, it’s hard to tell. But it appears to be the backstroke,” was the calm reply.

Snerk.

I didn’t bother holding back the snort of amusement, while Nami giggled and leaned back into my chest. The marine didn’t appear to find the joke humorous, because he promptly broke the table in two, sending the wine glasses and soup bowls falling to the floor. Deep within my chest, a growl began rumbling. I wasn’t in danger of starving on that island with Katara, but after a year and a half of the same food damn near every single day, I hated seeing good quality food just thrown aside like that.

The acting waiter was of a similar mind, as with a blur of motion, his right leg snapped up to deliver three kicks to Asshat Marine. Before the concussed marine could drop to the floor, Sanji’s hand shot out and grabbed Asshat Marine by the chin.

“To offend a cook at sea is a fool’s mistake. Remember that. And food must never be wasted,” he growled, for a moment sounding even more monstrous than me. Hmm… take my hands off Nami so I can applaud, or no?

“AGAIN SANJI?!! WHAT’RE YOU DOING TO DAT CUSTOMER?!! AND HIM A NAVAL OFFICER!!!” my ponderings were interrupted by a knock-off Popeye shouting at Sanji.

“Hello, Crap-Chef. Say my name with respect.”

“How dare you call me ‘Crap-Chef,’ Crap-Server! Customers are the life’s blood of a restaurant! So why’s his life’s blood dripping out of him? Explain yourself!”

“Customer?” Sanji repeated, the disdain in his voice thick enough to cut with a butter knife, as he dropped Asshat Marine. “This lowlife wasted food, and he insulted our cooks. So I taught him some etiquette.”

It was like watching a tennis match, my head moving back and forth as first Sanji then the other chef threw insults and barbs back and forth. Of course, that’s when Asshat Marine had to open his big mouth and insult the food, the chefs, and the Baratie as a whole.

“I know we haven’t been served yet, but the show alone is worth the price of admission,” I quipped as the multitude of cooks held back Sanji from killing Asshat Marine.

“You aren’t wrong,” Nami said with a giggle, moments before there was a crash and two bodies fell through the ceiling.

One of them was our beloved, braindead captain while the other was an old man in a chef’s outfit. Though his hat was ridiculously long, seriously I think it was taller than me! The show just got better, with Luffy being made to work off the damages she caused and being dragged in back.

“So how long until Luffy gets kicked out for screwing up too much?” I rhetorically asked.

“I’d say, a week,” Usopp responded.

“Care to put some beri on it?” Nami chimed in, leaning forwards and resting her chin on her laced fingers and her elbows on the table (while also grinding her firm derrie on my dick).

“I’m going to regret this, but fuck it. Two hundred.”

“Three hundred, less than five days,” Zoro threw in his wager.

“Logan, care to weigh in?” Nami asked, leaning back into my chest and running her hand along my jawline.

“Minx,” I said with a growl, prompting a cheeky grin from her. “You first.”

Nami pouted, but relented when I just stared at her, “Fine. A thousand on three days or less. Your turn.”

“Five thousand on some other shit happening and Luffy wrangling into using that to pay off the debt instead.”

The other three Straw Hats paused, before facepalming. Zoro groaned and asked, “Should we just give him the money now?”

Any answer was cut off by Sanji approaching our table. I got ready for him to flirt with Nami, but to my surprise, he didn’t. He wrote down our orders, came out with our drinks, and in all respects was basically the perfect waiter. Huh. That was freaky. Maybe because it was obvious she and I were “together”?

Either way, soon enough, our food was brought out, looking and smelling better than any restaurant I remember before getting sent here. I barely paid attention to what everyone else ordered, my attention on the surf and turf in front of me (Nami slipping into another chair to make eating easier for both of us). Perfectly seared steak, with crosshatch grill marks, mouth watering lobster, both on a bed of mashed potatoes.

The rest of the Baratie vanished, as I put a forkful of the mashed potatoes in my mouth. Creamy, buttery, the flavors of rosemary and garlic danced across my tongue as I closed my eye. Opening it, I used the knife to carve off a piece of lobster meat, before dabbing it in the small cup of melted butter and biting into it.

“If I was in my animal form right now,” I said as I savored the taste of the lobster. “My leg would be kicking so hard.”

Nami looked up from her tangerine chicken with an amused smirk, “I’d almost pay to see that.”

I didn’t give that a response, too focused on the way the steak, medium rare and perfectly cooked with an herb compound butter melted over the top of it, was making my tongue do backflips in sheer, unadulterated joy. I never thought I’d think this, but Krieg couldn’t get here fast enough so we can get Sanji on the crew and eat like this every day!

Course, that’s when the drama involving Gin happened. I knew Luffy would handle it, so I just remained focused on the best meal of my life. My MMA career had let me eat at some five star restaurants, and I would kill the chefs at every single one of them if that’s what it took to pay for this meal.

[hr][/hr]

The next day or so passed fairly uneventfully. Usopp worked on his tinkering, Zoro and I sparred, Nami recounted the treasure in the hold for the eight thousandth time, Johnny and Yosake did whatever they did when they weren’t pissing off Nami by calling her ‘bro’. And Nami and I were still engaging in regular “stress relief”.

This time in particular, I had finally managed to talk Nami into letting me reciprocate. It was weird, I’d never seen a woman as reluctant to let a guy go down on her as Nami, and she was tense the entire time as I knelt down next to her. On a hunch, I shifted from hybrid to human form, and as I expected, some of the tension bled out of Nami’s body.

Filing that observation aside, I placed my hands on her smooth, pale and toned thighs. Leaning in, I breathed in her scent, taking a moment to enjoy being with her, and looking forward to pleasing her. I’d had plenty of practice with Katara, so I started with the tricks I’d picked up there, slowly exploring Nami to see what spots she enjoyed and set her off.

Her taste was different, slightly sweeter than Katara, with a bit of citrusy tang. The quiet whimpers and moans that my licking and dancing fingers drew from her were pure music. Glancing up at her, past her bikini-clad breasts, to her flushed face, biting down on her knuckle as she met my gaze and I gave her clit a flick with the tip of my tongue. I could see her nipples poking out through the fabric of her top, as my middle finger smoothly slid into her.

Curling my finger, I pressed along the roof of her passage until I found that key spot, making Nami’s whole body clench as she threw her head back and a rush of girlcum flooded my mouth. I gave Nami a chance to recover from her orgasm, her panting as she caught her breath doing… visually appealing things to her chest. As Nami lifted her head and looked down at me through the valley between her breasts, I smirked and gave her clit another flick.

“Dammit, Logan,” she groaned. “Still sensitive.”

“What can I say?” I asked cheekily as I gave her laiba a gentle kiss. “I’ve been feeling guilty after how much you’ve been treating me and not returning the favor.”

There was an odd look in Nami’s eyes, one that I couldn’t quite place. Her hand, the one she’d been biting on, reached out and cupped my jaw. Her thumb rubbed against the stubble I’d grown (my facial hair didn’t grow unless I was in my human form, oddly enough) as her two eyes stared into my one.

“Fuck it,” I barely heard her mumble. Louder, she said, “Take your pants off. Let’s see how good your control is.”

“Oh?” I asked as I stood up and worked at the buckle of my belt.

“No sex, that cock of yours slides into my pussy or my ass, and we’ll see how well you can doggy paddle. But my thighs are fair game.”

My dick twitched. I admit, thighjobs were not something I’d really done in the past, the ___-jobs I was experienced with being more in the lines of blow and tit, with the occasional ass. The last one mostly to rile me up before the actual sex started. My pants hit the floor, Nami’s hand caressed my cheek, our heads leaning closer together…

BANG! BANG! BANG!

“LOGAN! NAMI! SHIT’S GETTING REAL, GET OVER TO THE BARATIE!” Usopp shouted through the (thankfully locked) door. Closing my eye and taking a deep breath, I opened it and met Nami’s gaze.

“I am going to rip off his Pinocchio nose and make him choke on it,” I growled, sounding like I did in my hybrid form.

Standing, I pulled my pants back on as Nami got dressed herself. I had a liar to kill. Making my way to the Baratie, I ignored the man with pale lavender hair hauling a sack bigger than himself.

Coming to a stop in front of the gathered cooks and the rest of the crew I asked the only relevant question, “What’d I miss?

“Th-that was Don Krieg! One of the most wanted pirates in the entire East Blue!” Usopp shouted, his shaking finger pointing towards the man I’d walked past.

I gave a lazy blink, before turning to Zoro, “Double or nothing on how long it takes Luffy to kick his ass?”

“Sure,” the swordsman easily agreed, “hopefully there’ll be a decent swordsman on the crew. I could use a challenge.”

I rolled my neck and shoulders, getting some satisfying pops, and shifted to my hybrid form, much to the shock of the Baratie cooks, “You and your swordsmen. With how much sword polishing you do, I’m sure we can find you a nice guy on the next island.”

Zoro gave me a flat look, “My fondness for swords doesn’t make me gay, you oversized fur rug.”

“I know, I’ve just been sitting on that joke for over a week and couldn’t pass up the opportunity.”

“WOULD YOU TWO TAKE THIS SERIOUSLY?!” Usopp screamed at us, making both Zoro and I turn to stare at the marksman.

“Usopp, you are damn lucky I like you, because otherwise I’d be kicking your ass for what you did a few minutes ago. Now I have to fight a bunch of scrubs with a wicked case of blue balls. As it is,” I loomed over the olive-skinned teen, “You owe me two hundred berri, because I won the bet.”

As our sniper stammered, a fold-out deck surrounded the Baratie, and I got ready to step out. Only to be stopped by a peg leg held out against my waist.

“The fruit you ate, pepper shaped?” Looking at the head chef with a curious expression, I nodded, making him give an almost bittersweet chuckle. “Thought so, last one to eat it was on my old crew. Figure out the animal?”

“Some sort of canid, that’s it,” I answered.

“It was the Inu Inu no Mi: Model Dire Wolf. We make it out of this, I’ll give ya something of his. It’s just been gathering dust this last decade, might as well give it to someone who’ll get some use out of it.”

I blinked in surprise, before giving the old man a nod, “Thanks, Old Fart. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some frustration to vent, some asses to kick, and some faces to rearrange.”