(One Piece-General. 017. Confused.)
Title: That Simple
Author: formerly princeivy, now under cuethe_pulse
Fandom: One Piece
Characters: Zoro x Sanji
Prompt: 017-Confused
Word Count: 810
Rating: NC-17
Warnings/Spoilers: Lots of swearing and man sex
Summary: Zoro didn’t know where the sudden interest came from and he shouldn’t have cared, but he did.
“Wanna fuck?”
He’d asked just like that, like it was that simple. Zoro didn’t know-maybe it was.
He couldn’t remember what his reply had been-“sure,” “whatever,” “hell yes”-but that wasn’t really important anymore, because his hand was down Sanji’s pants. Sanji’s fingers were convulsing on his shoulders, grip going lax then hard, pinching, kneading his skin like it was bread dough. Sanji’s tongue was trying to follow a sweat bead’s trail down to his collarbone; but if the whispered curses against his neck were any indication, the hand job he was currently giving was effectively distracting him from his task.
Zoro gritted his teeth and concentrated on the pulsing flesh in his hand like it was some new training exercise he had to master. He didn’t do this to himself often and doing it to someone else was-strange, for lack of better word. (Or rather, lack of mental ability to come up with a better word at the present time.) But he seemed to be doing a decent job, judging by the way Sanji was writhing and wriggling against him. Zoro’s free hand held onto one of Sanji’s legs, feeling its tremors against his palm, pressing their bodies flush together. He could feel the movement of his own jerking hand against the straining cock in his pants.
And then Sanji was pushing against his shoulders, and groaning-“Stop, shit-”, and pushing at the waistline of those constricting pants. And Zoro’s mind-maybe it was conscience-just would not let him enjoy this: If it was all so simple, then why hadn’t they done this already? Why had it taken so long? Why was the cook suddenly so damn interested?
“You get your heart broken or something?”
“What?” Sanji’s visible eye narrowed slightly when he looked up from unbuckling his belt and Zoro vaguely realized that it might not have been the best time for a conversation.
“…Nothing.”
“Good.” And then Sanji’s pants were around his ankles. Zoro tried to turn his mind off after that.
Sanji’s body was all angles. His hipbones were sharp under Zoro’s hands. One leg was thrown haphazardly over Zoro’s shoulder, the other clenched tight around his waist. His back was arching against the wood beneath him, and Zoro growled some unintelligible order for him to hold still, for fuck’s sake.
“Then hurry up and do it,” Sanji practically whined, kicking at Zoro’s back with his heel.
And so he did. He rammed himself in, falteringly, in two thrusts. Fuck, it was tight. He felt Sanji’s legs shaking around him and he nudged-or shoved, depending on who was asked-in a little deeper, perhaps impatient, perhaps inexperienced, until Sanji hissed for him to hold still, for fuck’s sake.
Zoro would’ve laughed, had it been a laughing moment. Instead, he stilled, wordlessly, jaw tightened. He waited out the seconds-that felt like minutes that felt like hours that felt like days-while Sanji’s shallow breathing slowed and his muscles spasmed and his hands gripped Zoro’s arms. And then the cook leaned up-another damn angle-and almost kissed him, but didn’t (and Zoro was grateful because a kiss would’ve definitely set his mind to thinking again) and just whispered, “Move.”
Zoro moved like a man possessed. He tried to start slowly, but there were just too many things working against him: Sanji’s fingernails digging into his skin, the hot-tight-oh-god-yes feeling of being inside another man’s body, the stuttered groan of “fuck, I knew it would be good” into his ear, the raging-burning-building ache in his balls that was begging to be relieved.
Sanji’s teeth on his ear and the sudden jerking, pulsing movement of the cook’s body were what threw him over the edge. Spent, he leaned heavily on the bent form in his arms and Sanji let himself fall back to the floor, pulling Zoro down with him. Zoro took a few moments to catch his breath before he pulled out, cringing slightly at the feeling and the noise, and rolled off the cook and onto his back. The wood wasn’t the most comfortable of things to lie on, but he didn’t think he could move if he wanted to. Sanji didn’t seem to be going anywhere, either; Zoro heard a cigarette being lighted before the smell of smoke wafted over to him.
Now that his lust was appeased, the wheels in his mind slowly began turning again and he wondered: What just happened here? Had he really just fucked a ladies’ man? The ladies’ man? Goddamn Mister Prince?
“I don’t get it,” he said, finally, breaking the smoke-filled silence between them.
“What’s to get?” Sanji asked, sounding slightly defensive for some reason Zoro didn’t want to bother figuring out. “I wanted it and so did you.”
“…Ah.” He said and his mind smacked itself. Duh. It was that simple.