OP fic: Next Time (Zoro/Sanji)
Title: Next Time
Character(s) and/or Pairing(s): Zoro/Sanji + Sanji/Zoro
Rating: R (Sanji’s dirty mouth and implied sex)
Words: 600ish
Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. I do not own One Piece or its characters.
Summary: Sanji didn’t want to wait any longer, but then he had to wait two years.
A/N: Sappier than a maple tree in early spring.
Next time. You can do it next time.
He knows they probably said a few things to each other after that, but those words were the only ones he can remember. Those were the last words they shared.
Those words made him twinge with anticipation for their 'next time.' His 'next time.'
He hadn’t expected it to be his time on their first night (a cold and quiet night alone at the palace in the desert), or even on their second (among the towering forest and away from the group, but still close enough to see the dim light of the fire), but after a while, he grew impatient.
It was always that guy who was in the lead. Was there ever going to be a chance for him to be in charge? He didn’t mind the gentle times (hidden below deck on the small ship they shared with four people and a reindeer), or the rough times (high above in the crow’s nest on the large ship they shared with six people and a reindeer), but it was never his time. On their last night together, he asked.
"Next time," was that guy’s answer. "You can do it next time." Sealed with a kiss.
Once he realized it would be two years before they would meet again, it occurred to him that those were the last words that guy said.
---
"What’s wrong with right here?"
They had said a few things to each other before that, but those words were the only ones he could think about at the moment. Those words the green-haired, coat-wearing, sword-swinging, map-rejecting, marimo-moron had just spoken.
What’s wrong with right here...? What’s wrong with having your first fuck in two years on a patch of shitty swamp grass and bristly tree roots?
"Did all that algae on your head soak through to your brain for the past two years? I am not having sex with you in such a non-intimate setting," Sanji huffed out harshly and took a long drag from his cigarette.
Zoro crossed his arms as he surveyed the area. "Does it have to be intimate? I was thinking more like desperate." And Sanji might have agreed with that statement if not for the look of utter boredom the grass-headed asshole had plastered on his face.
"Screw you, shithead! I am not having my first time be down in the mud!" Did he just say that out loud?
Two eyebrows raised and one eye stared. "What do you mean 'your fist time,' swirly-brows?"
A smoky breath of air caught in his throat. "You said I could be on top...for once." He dropped his spent cigarette on the ground and crushed it with the toe of his shoe.
"Did I? Don’t remember," Zoro said so nonchalantly as he scratched the side of his neck.
Sanji started to dig frustratedly into his pocket for another stick. "Go to hell, moss-ball! Even if you don’t remember, I do!" Darn it all, he was out. "I’m going back to Sunny!"
Zoro watched the shit-cook storm off through the mangroves. He grumbled and followed.
"Wait."
Sanji stopped, but didn’t turn around. He heard Zoro closing in behind him, and he suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. Then, warm breath and a strong, soft voice.
"Next time. You can do it next time."
After a quick peck on his lips, he was sure his face was bright red. As he watched that guy go on ahead of him, he thought he heard something else.
"I promise."
He felt a familiar twinge of anticipation. However...
"I changed my mind." He started loosening his tie. "I think I can afford to get a little dirty."
He watched Zoro smirk and walk back towards him. Next time could wait. This was now.
Character(s) and/or Pairing(s): Zoro/Sanji + Sanji/Zoro
Rating: R (Sanji’s dirty mouth and implied sex)
Words: 600ish
Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. I do not own One Piece or its characters.
Summary: Sanji didn’t want to wait any longer, but then he had to wait two years.
A/N: Sappier than a maple tree in early spring.
Next time. You can do it next time.
He knows they probably said a few things to each other after that, but those words were the only ones he can remember. Those were the last words they shared.
Those words made him twinge with anticipation for their 'next time.' His 'next time.'
He hadn’t expected it to be his time on their first night (a cold and quiet night alone at the palace in the desert), or even on their second (among the towering forest and away from the group, but still close enough to see the dim light of the fire), but after a while, he grew impatient.
It was always that guy who was in the lead. Was there ever going to be a chance for him to be in charge? He didn’t mind the gentle times (hidden below deck on the small ship they shared with four people and a reindeer), or the rough times (high above in the crow’s nest on the large ship they shared with six people and a reindeer), but it was never his time. On their last night together, he asked.
"Next time," was that guy’s answer. "You can do it next time." Sealed with a kiss.
Once he realized it would be two years before they would meet again, it occurred to him that those were the last words that guy said.
---
"What’s wrong with right here?"
They had said a few things to each other before that, but those words were the only ones he could think about at the moment. Those words the green-haired, coat-wearing, sword-swinging, map-rejecting, marimo-moron had just spoken.
What’s wrong with right here...? What’s wrong with having your first fuck in two years on a patch of shitty swamp grass and bristly tree roots?
"Did all that algae on your head soak through to your brain for the past two years? I am not having sex with you in such a non-intimate setting," Sanji huffed out harshly and took a long drag from his cigarette.
Zoro crossed his arms as he surveyed the area. "Does it have to be intimate? I was thinking more like desperate." And Sanji might have agreed with that statement if not for the look of utter boredom the grass-headed asshole had plastered on his face.
"Screw you, shithead! I am not having my first time be down in the mud!" Did he just say that out loud?
Two eyebrows raised and one eye stared. "What do you mean 'your fist time,' swirly-brows?"
A smoky breath of air caught in his throat. "You said I could be on top...for once." He dropped his spent cigarette on the ground and crushed it with the toe of his shoe.
"Did I? Don’t remember," Zoro said so nonchalantly as he scratched the side of his neck.
Sanji started to dig frustratedly into his pocket for another stick. "Go to hell, moss-ball! Even if you don’t remember, I do!" Darn it all, he was out. "I’m going back to Sunny!"
Zoro watched the shit-cook storm off through the mangroves. He grumbled and followed.
"Wait."
Sanji stopped, but didn’t turn around. He heard Zoro closing in behind him, and he suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. Then, warm breath and a strong, soft voice.
"Next time. You can do it next time."
After a quick peck on his lips, he was sure his face was bright red. As he watched that guy go on ahead of him, he thought he heard something else.
"I promise."
He felt a familiar twinge of anticipation. However...
"I changed my mind." He started loosening his tie. "I think I can afford to get a little dirty."
He watched Zoro smirk and walk back towards him. Next time could wait. This was now.