onepieceyaoi100 | (no subject)

Title: Assumptions
Rating: PG-15
Word Count: 316 *fail!*
Pairing: Sanji/ ?
Topic: Bad Company

~*~

It was late and a dozen rough-looking men lingered in the dining room. Before Sanji could slip out again they spotted him.

"Hey kid!" one said. "C'mere!"

He walked closer. "The kitchen's closed," he muttered, bristling at the 'kid'. He was almost sixteen. Couldn't these shitty jerks tell?

"Don't see hair like yours much in these waters," the man said, grinning. "You imported special?" The way his companions laughed and jostled each other made Sanji frown.

"What do you care?" he said, slipping his hands under his apron into the pockets of his tight pants.

"No chit-chat, eh? Good." The man's eyes flashed and he grabbed Sanji's upper arm in a meaty fist, yanking him close. Rum-sour breath made him wrinkle his nose in disgust. "How much?"

"For your tab, shithead?" Sanji asked, lifting his brow disdainfully. The table errupted instantly into raucous laughter but the man holding his arm didn't join in. His gaze was hungry - as if he hadn't just consumed half the menu.

"Eh, mouthy brat." The hand shifted, sliding higher, tightened. A rough thumb rubbed over the ball of his shoulder with disturbing audacity. "How's 'bout you show me what else you do with that foul mouth, pretty-boy?"

Then hands were on him from both sides. And stinky-breath was grabbing his neck. Shoving down. He fell between the man's spread knees. Pants were wrenched open and his face was pressed forward into wiry hair, against something thick and hot.

He choked in outrage as wet, rounded flesh pushed against his teeth. Struggled wildly. Uselessly. Not happening this was not not, his mind shrieked.

A scream of pain. Blinding impacts. Rush of wind. He fell forward, coughing, to his hands and knees, freed. Then the shitty old man was standing over him, mustache bristling, glare like death.

"Get back to the kitchen, little eggplant. I'm cleaning up here."

Face burning, Sanji ran.

-end-