One Piece oneshot
Title: Life’s Lesson
Author: Reyn
Rating: M for monkey love.
Disclaimer: I don’t own One Piece.
Warnings: porn, oneshot
Author’s Note: This was written one night during a bout of insomnia. So the overall feel may be a bit different from my normal style.
Summary: Zoro knew better. Really, he did. But that wasn't enough to stop him in his battle with lust.
Life’s Lesson
Zoro knew better. Really, he did. He was a swordsman, for crying out loud. One who picked up quick on life’s little lessons and acknowledged them in his way of livelihood. After all, if he didn’t grow based on the experience he gained, he would become ensnared and grow weak.
And this was why he always, always kept his eyes closed during sex. Always.
Why, you may ask? Because with his eyes shut, there were no attachments, nothing for him to become fascinated with. No beauty to fall for, to think about to keep himself going.
No, none of that. He only wanted to rely on himself.
But this…this was a mistake. A dangerous mistake that, for some reason, he preferred to try and fool himself into believing rather than pulling out of as fast as possible like he should have.
The first time it happened had been an accident, really. The cook was horny and frustrated, and he himself was just plain frustrated, and their fight simply held a different tune that both were quick to answer.
It was in the midst of this that his first mistake was made.
The cook had been silent for the most part, with the obvious exception of panting, until the very end. And for some reason, that tensed, suppressed groan had shocked Zoro, causing his eyes to snap open in surprise. It was here that he had the misfortune of having his vision filled with a glistening stretch of neck, complete with an Adam’s apple bobbing as its owner swallowed before another moan was sounded, followed by a small splash of seed reaching the hollow of the throat.
This would not have been a problem if it wasn’t this sight that caused the swordsman to reach his own climax, forcing him to once again squeeze his eyes shut, that image forever burned into his mind.
It haunted him.
For the first time, he experienced Lust. He wanted more. He wanted to make that cook sweat; to make that throat sound in every way and every pitch possible. He now had a weakness that he wasn’t sure how to win against, how to overcome.
The second mistake was more of a compromise in Zoro’s mind. He was frustrated and horny and the cook was just plain frustrated. He forced the fight into that tune, wanting to get it out of his head; wanting to satisfy this beast that he couldn’t defeat. He forced his eyes to remain shut by burying his head into that neck he now had fantasies about so that he wouldn’t see anything. But with the thrusting and squirming, his head had a hard time staying buried.
His eyes found themselves opening on their own accord as the cook’s movements grew more desperate and hurried before suddenly stilling. It was then that Zoro had the misfortune of having his vision filled with the sight of a chest and stomach; muscles clenching and unclenching as hot milky liquid was splashed against them.
Zoro spent the next week avoiding the cook.
What else could he do? If he looked at him, his mind would run rampant with wistful fantasies, wondering what the rest of him looked like in the throes of ecstasy. Did his muscles tense like that before his climax or only during? How long before his skin glistened with sweat during the actual act?
The third mistake was sabotage. The cook had sought him out, looking pissed beyond reason, and the next thing the two of them knew, they were at it again. Zoro did his best to keep his eyes shut, letting his lips, tongue, and teeth do the viewing as he explored as much as he could. But just a peek couldn’t hurt, right?
Unfortunately, that peek landed on the cook’s face and never before had the swordsman been so fascinated by one’s expression. His gaze remained fixated until his own orgasm overtook him, hitting him harder than before.
Zoro made it a point to take the cook from behind the next time they met.
If only that had worked. By this point, all of his senses were on fire. He had given up on keeping his eyes closed and now reveled in every inch of lithe body that he could set his sights and fingers on, never understanding why he couldn’t get enough.
And now, standing here out in the marketplace, watching that bastard cook as he gushed while some random lady flirted with him, Zoro remembered why he had always made it a point before to keep his eyes closed.
Because he was a fucking swordsman, for crying out loud. And swordsmen were considered to be dangerous men. And dangerous men weren’t exactly known for keeping their jealousy issues in check.
The woman reached out and brushed a few stray blond strands aside, neatly tucking them away before taking a moment to toy a bit with the cook’s ear. Damn it, that ear was one of his sensitive spots!
The cook blushed pink and Zoro saw red.
Life’s lessons were a real bitch.
The fight that happened later on was brutal, with both sides sporting some real injuries. The swordsman suffered from several cracked ribs, other bruised bones, and a whiplash that was severe enough to make it nearly impossible to turn his head more than ten degrees to the left. The cook suffered from ribbons of shallow cuts all over his body, a ruined suit, and a wrist broken in two places.
Zoro’s patch up job consisted of some pain ointment, a securely wrapped bandage around his upper torso, and strict orders to take it easy on his neck for the next few days.
The cook’s patch up job consisted of hydrogen peroxide being poured over all of his wounds, bandages being placed over a few of the deeper cuts, and his left hand being immobilized due to a hard cast being placed around his wrist with the strict instructions that it could not be removed for at least four weeks lest he suffer from problems for the rest of his life thanks to it not being allowed to heal properly.
For the first time, Zoro experienced Regret.
They hadn’t even acknowledged one another’s existence in nearly a month, and meals now took twice as long to prepare, even with the help of others.
Suddenly, all of the images that had once preyed upon Zoro’s weakness vanished. The raging beast had somehow shrunk down into a whimpering puppy, roars gone in exchange for uncertain whines that wanted to call out and apologize.
He didn’t want it to end. He didn’t know what ‘it’ was. He wanted to learn what ‘it’ was. He needed more of whatever ‘it’ was.
The lust was subsided, but the longing wasn’t.
Reconciliation came in the form of a middle finger at full salute the second that cast came off.
His presence noted for the first time in a month, Zoro followed the cook out, his mouth open and fully ready to let out something that would be close to an apology, only to let loose a surprised grunt as the cook roughly grabbed his balls and looked him in the eye, the threatening message clearly being conveyed despite the absence of words. The death grip then turned light and teasing and the next thing Zoro knew, the cook was on top of him.
This time, rather than fight it or plunge into it like a starved man, Zoro savored it. He allowed it to wash over him and fill him to the brim with peace.
After all, Sanji’s message had been quite clear.
He would not allow this to become a weakness to the swordsman. Ever again.
Owari.
Author: Reyn
Rating: M for monkey love.
Disclaimer: I don’t own One Piece.
Warnings: porn, oneshot
Author’s Note: This was written one night during a bout of insomnia. So the overall feel may be a bit different from my normal style.
Summary: Zoro knew better. Really, he did. But that wasn't enough to stop him in his battle with lust.
Life’s Lesson
Zoro knew better. Really, he did. He was a swordsman, for crying out loud. One who picked up quick on life’s little lessons and acknowledged them in his way of livelihood. After all, if he didn’t grow based on the experience he gained, he would become ensnared and grow weak.
And this was why he always, always kept his eyes closed during sex. Always.
Why, you may ask? Because with his eyes shut, there were no attachments, nothing for him to become fascinated with. No beauty to fall for, to think about to keep himself going.
No, none of that. He only wanted to rely on himself.
But this…this was a mistake. A dangerous mistake that, for some reason, he preferred to try and fool himself into believing rather than pulling out of as fast as possible like he should have.
The first time it happened had been an accident, really. The cook was horny and frustrated, and he himself was just plain frustrated, and their fight simply held a different tune that both were quick to answer.
It was in the midst of this that his first mistake was made.
The cook had been silent for the most part, with the obvious exception of panting, until the very end. And for some reason, that tensed, suppressed groan had shocked Zoro, causing his eyes to snap open in surprise. It was here that he had the misfortune of having his vision filled with a glistening stretch of neck, complete with an Adam’s apple bobbing as its owner swallowed before another moan was sounded, followed by a small splash of seed reaching the hollow of the throat.
This would not have been a problem if it wasn’t this sight that caused the swordsman to reach his own climax, forcing him to once again squeeze his eyes shut, that image forever burned into his mind.
It haunted him.
For the first time, he experienced Lust. He wanted more. He wanted to make that cook sweat; to make that throat sound in every way and every pitch possible. He now had a weakness that he wasn’t sure how to win against, how to overcome.
The second mistake was more of a compromise in Zoro’s mind. He was frustrated and horny and the cook was just plain frustrated. He forced the fight into that tune, wanting to get it out of his head; wanting to satisfy this beast that he couldn’t defeat. He forced his eyes to remain shut by burying his head into that neck he now had fantasies about so that he wouldn’t see anything. But with the thrusting and squirming, his head had a hard time staying buried.
His eyes found themselves opening on their own accord as the cook’s movements grew more desperate and hurried before suddenly stilling. It was then that Zoro had the misfortune of having his vision filled with the sight of a chest and stomach; muscles clenching and unclenching as hot milky liquid was splashed against them.
Zoro spent the next week avoiding the cook.
What else could he do? If he looked at him, his mind would run rampant with wistful fantasies, wondering what the rest of him looked like in the throes of ecstasy. Did his muscles tense like that before his climax or only during? How long before his skin glistened with sweat during the actual act?
The third mistake was sabotage. The cook had sought him out, looking pissed beyond reason, and the next thing the two of them knew, they were at it again. Zoro did his best to keep his eyes shut, letting his lips, tongue, and teeth do the viewing as he explored as much as he could. But just a peek couldn’t hurt, right?
Unfortunately, that peek landed on the cook’s face and never before had the swordsman been so fascinated by one’s expression. His gaze remained fixated until his own orgasm overtook him, hitting him harder than before.
Zoro made it a point to take the cook from behind the next time they met.
If only that had worked. By this point, all of his senses were on fire. He had given up on keeping his eyes closed and now reveled in every inch of lithe body that he could set his sights and fingers on, never understanding why he couldn’t get enough.
And now, standing here out in the marketplace, watching that bastard cook as he gushed while some random lady flirted with him, Zoro remembered why he had always made it a point before to keep his eyes closed.
Because he was a fucking swordsman, for crying out loud. And swordsmen were considered to be dangerous men. And dangerous men weren’t exactly known for keeping their jealousy issues in check.
The woman reached out and brushed a few stray blond strands aside, neatly tucking them away before taking a moment to toy a bit with the cook’s ear. Damn it, that ear was one of his sensitive spots!
The cook blushed pink and Zoro saw red.
Life’s lessons were a real bitch.
The fight that happened later on was brutal, with both sides sporting some real injuries. The swordsman suffered from several cracked ribs, other bruised bones, and a whiplash that was severe enough to make it nearly impossible to turn his head more than ten degrees to the left. The cook suffered from ribbons of shallow cuts all over his body, a ruined suit, and a wrist broken in two places.
Zoro’s patch up job consisted of some pain ointment, a securely wrapped bandage around his upper torso, and strict orders to take it easy on his neck for the next few days.
The cook’s patch up job consisted of hydrogen peroxide being poured over all of his wounds, bandages being placed over a few of the deeper cuts, and his left hand being immobilized due to a hard cast being placed around his wrist with the strict instructions that it could not be removed for at least four weeks lest he suffer from problems for the rest of his life thanks to it not being allowed to heal properly.
For the first time, Zoro experienced Regret.
They hadn’t even acknowledged one another’s existence in nearly a month, and meals now took twice as long to prepare, even with the help of others.
Suddenly, all of the images that had once preyed upon Zoro’s weakness vanished. The raging beast had somehow shrunk down into a whimpering puppy, roars gone in exchange for uncertain whines that wanted to call out and apologize.
He didn’t want it to end. He didn’t know what ‘it’ was. He wanted to learn what ‘it’ was. He needed more of whatever ‘it’ was.
The lust was subsided, but the longing wasn’t.
Reconciliation came in the form of a middle finger at full salute the second that cast came off.
His presence noted for the first time in a month, Zoro followed the cook out, his mouth open and fully ready to let out something that would be close to an apology, only to let loose a surprised grunt as the cook roughly grabbed his balls and looked him in the eye, the threatening message clearly being conveyed despite the absence of words. The death grip then turned light and teasing and the next thing Zoro knew, the cook was on top of him.
This time, rather than fight it or plunge into it like a starved man, Zoro savored it. He allowed it to wash over him and fill him to the brim with peace.
After all, Sanji’s message had been quite clear.
He would not allow this to become a weakness to the swordsman. Ever again.
Owari.