The Nature of Things (SanjixZoro, ZoroxSanji) Chapter 13: Part Two
Note: We don't own One Piece, obviously. Also, no beta on this one. All mistakes are mine.
Warnings for this chapter:
1) There is a chunk of SanjixZoro towards the end. (My blood is actually boiling in response to the fact that I have to make this a warning, but there it is. In short, I. Don't. Care. If. You. Don't. Like. Sanzo. It's important to the narrative in this story and there will be a nice chunk of Zosan in the last chapter so Deal With It.)
2) Zoro and Sanji say fuck a lot. Like, a LOT.
3) I may have messed with canon timeline a bit. I'm not actually sure.
4) Drunk dialogue.
Title: The Nature Of Things
Authors: sinisterbug and stark_black
Rating: Big fat R to NC-17
Paring: Zoro/hookers/Zoro, Sanji/hookers, and eventually Zoro/Sanji/Zoro
Warnings: Yaoi, language, and general stupidity.
Summary: When the Sunny docks, Sanji and Zoro sometimes seek out relief in some not so savory places. After crossing paths in town on more than one occasion, the two find they have a lot more in common than they would like to admit.
<< Part 1 Here
They ended up returning to the ship. It just seemed right. The walk had been quiet and comfortable, the silence filled with a strangely wonderful tension. An excitement that neither man could put a name to, or even contemplate fully. They hadn’t planned it, their feet just took them in that direction and before long they were standing at the foot of the dock.
Sanji said nothing and climbed aboard. Zoro followed.
They had no idea who was on watch, or if anyone was on watch at all. Franky had installed safes with locks on them so complicated only himself and Nami could open them. And if anyone tried to steal the ship itself… well, good luck to that poor soul trying to operate the damn thing. There wasn’t really much need for a watchman.
Zoro hoped they were alone. He personally didn’t care if they weren’t, but he was a little anxious as to what Sanji might do if he discovered Luffy, or Chopper, or-god forbid-one of the girls was on the ship with them.
That thought flew out of his head when Sanji turned to him, still making his way across the deck, and slipped his tie from around his neck.
“Still need that shower,” he said softly.
Zoro felt like a hungry dog being offered steak. He followed Sanji without question through the surveying room and up the ladder. When they reached the bathroom, Sanji pulled off his shirt and kicked off his shoes. He swiftly stripped the rest of his clothing off and moved into the spa. Zoro heard the sudden spray of water and swallowed thickly. Shedding his own clothes, he stepped through the door and watched the cook run his hands through his hair and down his neck. Water cascaded down his pale skin, tracing lines through hard muscle and down long legs.
He looked up at Zoro, no doubt sensing the swordsman’s hesitancy, or his disbelief, or whatever the hell Zoro was feeling at the moment. He couldn’t decide what it was.
“Come here,” the cook said softly.
Zoro had never felt this way before, and the uncertainty of it made him nervous, wary. Sanji seemed to know just what to do, however, so when strong hands gripped his arm and pulled him under the spray, Zoro didn’t fight it. When the cook turned him around and slid his hand up the swordsman’s back and across his shoulders, Zoro just let it happen. He relaxed into the beat of the hot water and let Sanji work his magic. The cook had always been better at this sort of thing. He was more intuitive, more into the sensuality of the act. Zoro was fine with that and let himself be maneuvered and gently controlled, washed with care and reverence. He already trusted Sanji with his life, it wasn’t that much farther of a stretch to give in and trust the cook with his body and his heart.
“I have a pull-out bed in the galley,” Sanji said as he toweled Zoro’s hair dry, “that okay?”
Zoro nodded, still unable to speak. Would he ever be able to speak again? He didn’t know.
They wrapped towels around their waists and threw their clothes over their shoulders before they made their way back down the ladder. Sanji unlocked the door to the galley and then locked it again behind them, laying his clothes on a chair and dropping the towel in a heap on the floor. Zoro just stood watching, unable to decide his next move. His heart was pounding in his chest, his stomach was tying itself into knots as Sanji moved about his kitchen, completely nude, his hair glowing a golden yellow in the mellow rays of sunlight pouring in through the portholes.
“I sleep here sometimes when breakfast prep keeps me up late,” he said as he pulled out a full-size bed hidden in the couch. “It’s not the most comfortable thing in the world, but it does the job.”
The cook straightened and turned to look at Zoro, a half smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.
“You gonna stand by the door all day, or are you coming over here?”
Zoro swallowed again, thickly, his mouth had gone completely dry. Still saying nothing, he dropped his clothes and boots on the floor and pulled the towel from his waist. He moved carefully across the room, his fingers ghosting over the dining table as he passed in a vain attempt at steadying himself.
When he neared Sanji, the cook reached out his hand and pulled Zoro close. His blue eyes were still soft and held the tiniest bit of humor.
“You haven’t said a word since we left the brothel. Having second thoughts?”
“No,” Zoro managed to choke out. Hell no, there was no goddamn way he was having second thoughts. It would take a monsoon, the entire Navy, and army of sea kings, and the wrath of Nami on a treasure-hunting tirade to get him to back out of this now.
“I just don’t know what to think,” he said.
“Why do you need to be thinking about anything?”
Zoro had only a moment to ponder those words before Sanji’s hands went to his jaw. Strong fingers slid around to the back of his neck and a thumb pressed underneath his chin, tilting his head.
Everything in Zoro’s body pulled tight as Sanji’s lips came a hair’s breadth from his own. The cook inhaled Zoro’s sharp exhale and spoke softly into his mouth.
“Last chance…”
Zoro’s restraint snapped. He was already damned, why hold back?
There was a brief space of time, a blink, one single heartbeat where Zoro thought that this couldn’t be real, there was no way he was this lucky, and then he was kissing Sanji.
The cook’s lips were soft but chapped, exactly the way Zoro thought they would be. He tasted of coffee, and his tongue was as sly in this as it was when he hurled dirty insults at an enemy or slipped silver-laden compliments into the ear of a lovely woman. Zoro’s hands went to muscled hips, but before he could pull the two of them closer together, Sanji pulled away and was pushing Zoro backward.
“Lie down,” the cook breathed, and Zoro was glad to hear the cook’s voice was as raspy and uneven as he felt himself.
The mattress was firm but in a supportive kind of way. There was a single, blue sheet as cover, and two thin pillows. Sanji had tossed the blanket aside. Zoro lay on his back and rested his head on one of the pillows. He wasn’t sure if this was how the cook wanted him but it seemed like the most obvious option.
He watched, humming with excitement as Sanji took three bottles from the counter, all of which he had found during the search of his cupboards, and placed them on the lamp stand beside the couch. Then he sat on the edge of the bed next to Zoro’s hip. His eyes had gone a darker shade of blue, and when he caught Zoro’s gaze, the swordsman shuddered helplessly.
Their lips met again, and this time the kiss had heat behind it. Zoro felt the pillow sag next to his head as Sanji leaned over him. He felt fingers sliding around his throat, tilting his jaw, manipulating his movements. Zoro had never surrendered himself like this to anyone before, and was surprised to find it so easy, so natural. His experiences before this had all been fleeting, meaningless encounters with people he didn’t care about, or at least, didn’t care deeply about. There had been no reason to give them this part of himself. He had been holding back, waiting. Waiting for a reason to let himself go.
Sanji was trailing kisses down his jaw, and then his neck. Biting softly at junctions and running his tongue over contours of muscle. Zoro tried desperately not to moan. He could surrender himself to Sanji, because of their bond, because of their trust, but he was not yet ready to let himself break completely open. There would be time for that later.
At the same moment he reached up to push his fingers through blond hair, Sanji swept his tongue over the tip of his scar. Zoro arched and hissed, pulling roughly at the damp locks at the back of the cook’s head.
“Shit…” he whispered.
“You like that?” Sanji asked.
“No one’s ever tried that before.”
He could feel Sanji’s smile against his skin. “And?”
“Yeah, I like it.”
“Ah,” was all the response Sanji gave him before he shifted, and climbed up onto the bed. He straddled Zoro’s thighs and the swordsman got one quick flash of a mischievous smile before strong thumbs pressed into the sensitive flesh at the edges of the scar, and a hot tongue ran the length of it from center chest all the way up to his shoulder.
Zoro’s back bowed. White hot pleasure rocketed through him. He could feel it tingling in the tips of his fingers and toes, dancing through his loins, making his cock ache.
“H-holy shit…” he couldn’t breathe. He was losing his mind.
“I didn’t know you had any feeling in it,” Sanji said.
“I… didn’t either.” He couldn’t decide what to do with his hands, and because he didn’t want to rip Sanji’s hair out, or something equally stupid, he fisted both in the pillow on either side of his head. He had never experienced sensations like these before. The press of Sanji’s thumbs into his scar was painful and exquisite at the same time, and if the feel of the cook’s tongue on his skin was already amazing, then the feel of it on his scar was unbelievable.
Of course, it would be Sanji that brought these new sensations to life. No one in their right mind would have the audacity to do the things that Sanji was doing to him. No one else would have the balls to even try.
Abruptly, Sanji’s touch left him, and Zoro opened his eyes in time to see the cook reaching for one of the bottles on the lampstand. He popped the top and poured a small amount of whatever it was into his hand, and then replaced the cap and tossed the bottle. He then rubbed his hands together slowly, and Zoro smelled a sweet smell that made him think of desserts and fruity cocktails.
“What’s that?”
Sanji grinned. “Coconut flavored body oil.”
Zoro snorted a laugh. “Are you serious?”
Lowering his hands, Sanji returned his touch to Zoro’s chest, this time massaging in small circles at the edges of the scar.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to touch this thing.”
“Probably as long as I’ve wanted to lick the sweat off your back,” Zoro murmured.
“Hm, that’s fair.”
The cook continued to rub small circles along the outside of the raised flesh, and with every press he left a soft kiss or a teasing swipe of his tongue. Zoro let his head fall back and he growled softly up at the ceiling. He wasn’t used to this kind of treatment, this gentle exploration. Not that Zoro would have let anyone else in the known universe do this to him. It undid him in ways he had never thought were possible, and it was terrifying. Terrifying and exhilarating.
Finally, just as Zoro was about to beg Sanji to stop, the cook’s hands slid to his hips and he felt the blond’s weight shift. A warm hand gently slapped the inside of his thigh, and Zoro obliged, understanding the request. The swordsman spread his legs so Sanji could kneel between them, and before he could adjust himself, that hand was coming around his cock, slick and deft in its touch.
Zoro made a sound that probably shamed his ancestors, and pushed up on his elbows. He was almost mad with the ache and the pleasure Sanji was coaxing from his body, he almost couldn’t breathe with it, but more than anything, he wanted to see. He wanted to watch as Sanji stroked him, wanted to see his eyes.
Shit, he was so hot. The look Sanji was giving him as he watched Zoro writhe beneath his hands was almost one of reverence. The swordsman couldn’t take it, he wasn’t going to last if Sanji was going to look at him like that, and the last thing he wanted was to come all over himself prematurely while sobbing like a goddamn baby.
He sat up and propped himself on his hands. He was breathing heavily but he managed to keep his voice under control as he spoke.
“Come on, cook. We gonna pop your cherry, or what?”
Teeth flashed in one of those grins that drove Zoro completely wild.
“Full disclosure, this is where I get a little lost.”
“What,” Zoro chuckled breathlessly, “you don’t know where to put it?”
Sanji laughed against his mouth. “Don’t be an ass. I understand the basics, I just don’t want to do something that’s going to kill the mood or… hurt you or something.” His voice had gone quiet, like he was nervous. Zoro found he liked that a little and kissed him again, rough and wet, and entirely too short.
“I’ll walk you through it,” he said, lying back. “You have lube in one of those bottles?”
Sanji nodded, reaching for what was left on the lamp stand. “Do I need to um…”
Shit he was cute sometimes. “I said I’ll walk you through it. We’ll go slow.”
“Okay.”
Sanji took instruction well; better than Zoro had ever hoped. It was strange, telling the cook what to do, where to touch-fuck yeah, just like that- and how to move. They had been at such odds only weeks ago, and now here they were, doing this perfect, intimate thing, completely in synch with each other. Zoro setting the pace, and Sanji following in seamless rhythm.
Zoro began to see how Sanji had gotten so good at so many things. He listened, he understood, and when he got the essentials he took the reins and made it his own. It was fascinating and sexy the way his eyes calculated and the way his jaw set in quiet determination. When he watched Sanji’s hand close around himself, watched as the cook lifted Zoro’s knee and spread his legs wide, the swordsman’s breath caught. Sanji was gentle as he pressed forward, listening to Zoro’s instructions on when to stop and when to start again. By the time he was fully seated, they were both covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and Zoro was panting once again.
“Oh my god,” Sanji whispered.
Zoro was floating in a haze of pain and raw, exquisite, pleasure. His eyes were closed, so when the cook’s fingers traced the line of his jaw, he started. When he opened them, he found Sanji close, watching his face and running his thumb over the line of Zoro’s lips.
It was in that moment, as the cook’s body settled over him, and his blue eyes searched far deeper than either of them would like to admit, that Zoro felt a wave of emotion take hold of him. It was unexpected but only in its timing. Zoro knew that something like this was bound to happen, but he had been sure that it would come after this was over, and he had nothing but the memories of their time together to cling to.
“Hey,” Sanji whispered, “still with me?”
The cook was trembling, his hand was shaking as it trailed down Zoro’s face. The tenderness in his touch undid the swordsman and he responded the only way he could. With action.
He wrapped his ankles around Sanji’s thighs, and lifted his head to capture the cook’s chapped lips in another one of those rough, wet, kisses.
“Fuck me,” he growled into Sanji’s mouth, “come on.” Please. “Gimme all you got.” I need you.
Sanji groaned and braced himself on his elbow, the opposite hand lowering from Zoro’s face to grip the sheet. He kissed the swordsman’s lips once, softly, and then snapped his hips forward.
Lightening flashed behind Zoro’s eyes.
Oh god…
Sanji dug the balls of his feet into the mattress and snapped his hips forward again. Zoro’s breath caught as another lightning bold of pleasure shot through him.
“F-fuck!”
The muscles in the cook’s thighs flexed as he moved, rippling on the inside of Zoro’s legs. He snapped his hips forward a third time and made a soft sound of pleasure against Zoro’s lips.
“Ah, goddamn cook,” Zoro heard himself say, “don’t you fucking stop.”
Another powerful thrust forward and pain was synonymous with pleasure.
“Like I could stop,” Sanji’s voice was still low, just barely above a whisper. “You undo me, you fucking bastard. You fucking sexy son of a bitch.”
Their movements were fluid. Zoro’s hips rose to meet Sanji’s, and the two of them rocked together, breathing each other’s air. Zoro watched Sanji’s face, the way his hair fell across his cheeks and nose, the flush of his pale skin, the line of sweat running from his brow all the way down to his chin. Zoro reached up with both hands and slid his fingers into blond locks. He pushed them back, out of those blue eyes, and shuddered when he discovered the full intensity of Sanji’s gaze.
It had never felt like this before, and Zoro wasn’t sure if it was the effortless power in Sanji’s hips, the strength of his body, or if it was their emotional connection cunningly playing with the strings of his heart. Sex wasn’t supposed to be like this. It wasn’t supposed to be this overwhelming. It wasn’t supposed to make you feel this powerful, or this fucking complete.
It seemed to go on forever, and Zoro wanted it to never end. Sanji’s pants turned into soft moans of pleasure. Zoro finally closed his eyes and let the feeling take him away. He held on to Sanji’s shoulders and kissed the cook’s mouth, his neck, his forehead. He felt the pressure building, coiling in his muscles, and in his gut. His cock ached with neglected tension as his loins started to tighten up.
“Holy shit,” Sanji breathed, “you’re close, aren’t you? I can feel it.”
Zoro nipped at the cook’s bottom lip and tried to form coherent thoughts.
“Yeah.”
“What do you want me to do?” Sanji asked, and his movements slowed just a little.
Shit, he was losing it. Zoro was slipping fast, faster than he ever had before. Sanji’s fucking voice and his fucking body, and those goddamn, fucking eyes. Shit… shit it felt so good.
“Just… harder,” he growled as he nipped at the cook a second time, managing to catch some of that pale neck between his teeth. “Try and break me.”
Sanji did as he was told. He raised himself up on his hands and brought his knees up underneath Zoro’s thighs. This time when he thrust forward, he had leverage. The force of his movements nearly knocked the wind right out of Zoro’s lungs. More of that same white-hot pleasure shot through him and he made a noise through his teeth. He couldn’t hold the noises back anymore. It was time to break open.
One of Sanji’s hands found the back of the couch and that changed the angle to something even more exquisite. His hips pounded into Zoro with a force that was as brutal as it was satisfying. Zoro wrapped his hand around his cock, pumping himself in desperate, uneven jerks. The fingers of his other hand went around Sanji’s wrist. The cook still had one hand fisted in the sheet by the swordsman’s head.
Zoro’s orgasm tightened in his balls, and he tugged on himself roughly as Sanji laid into him. The cook’s gasps of pleasure and fatigue were a symphony on his ears as ecstasy boiled up and spilled over. He pulsed in his hand, spilling warmth over his fingers as bliss coursed through his veins and out to every corner of his body.
He lost a few moments of time, his vision blackening temporarily before he returned to himself. He was still breathing hard, still throbbing, riding on echoes of his release as he opened his eyes, and found Sanji watching him with eyes wide and lips parted.
Their movements had slowed to almost nothing, and the cook was looking at him desperately. He was panting heavily as well, sweat beading on his forehead.
“Can I keep going?” Sanji asked.
“Yeah,” was all Zoro could say. He was still coming down and he was sure if he tried to say anything else, he wouldn’t be able to form the words.
Sanji started moving again, and Zoro let go of himself and slid his hands over pale hips to grip a lean but muscled ass. He spread his legs a little wider and lifted his knees.
“Ah… fuck…” Sanji gasped as he adjusted to the new position. “I’m gonna come. You want me to pull out?”
“Hell no,” Zoro growled, and gripped Sanji’s ass harder. There was a little pain now, but it was worth getting to watch Sanji’s face as he started to lose it.
Expletives started to tumble from Sanji’s lips and the cook froze. Zoro felt the first pulse inside him and shuddered when Sanji dropped his forehead to rest it against his own. The cook gave a few more slow, easy thrusts that drove Zoro almost mad before he finally stilled.
“Holy shit,” Sanji panted. “Holy shit holy shit…”
Feeling loose and completely satisfied with himself, Zoro pushed at the cook’s hips and carefully extricated Sanji from between his thighs. The sharp pain of Sanji’s softening cock leaving his body was startling but it was also sweet, and the swordsman maneuvered that lean body to lie next to him.
The cook went easily and then lay with his eyes closed, breathing heavily. Zoro propped himself up on his elbow and watched Sanji slide his fingers through his hair and rest his palms on his forehead. He found the action overwhelmingly sexy and leaned in to kiss a few stray beads of sweat off Sanji’s jaw.
“There,” Zoro said softly, “you’ve been educated in the ways of gay sex.”
Sanji laughed and slipped one hand behind his head, the other he let fall to his chest. “Not completely.”
“Oh?” Zoro said, moving his lips down Sanji’s throat. “There something else you want to try?”
The cook lifted his hand and absently ran his fingers into the back of Zoro’s hair. “Of course. You still have to fuck me.”
Zoro stilled. He wasn’t sure if it was Sanji’s words, or the cook’s gentle, intimate touch that had slowed his heart, but he found himself frozen, unable to speak.
He must have been silent and unmoving for too long because Sanji tugged on a strand of his hair and scoffed. “Okay, fine, if you don’t want to-”
“-No no no,” Zoro cut in and adjusted himself so he could look up into Sanji’s face, “Don’t be stupid, of course I want to. I just didn’t think… you’d want to.”
Sanji cocked an eyebrow and smiled at him. “Why?”
“I don’t know,” Zoro made a face, “Some guys just don’t… I thought you wouldn’t want… I don’t know, never mind.”
Rolling his eyes, Sanji kissed Zoro’s lips around a smile and sat up. “I can take whatever you can dish out, Marimo. Don’t forget it.”
Zoro snickered at the phrasing and lay back, sleepy and sated. “Okay, love-cook. You can’t get enough of me, I get it.”
His pants hit his face and he heard his boots hit the floor next to the bed. When he pulled the fabric away and looked up, Sanji was there, smiling softly around an unlit cigarette.
“You can sleep here, but you have to put your clothes on. Don’t want to scar the other members of the crew.”
Zoro snorted. “Worried your Nami-san will come in and discover our little secret?”
Sanji turned away and Zoro heard the click of the lighter. “No, I’m more worried about Chopper or Usopp wandering in and going blind.”
Chucking, Zoro sat up and pulled his pants back on.
* * *
The Strawhats left the island before the Marines or anyone of interest caught their scent, and made it back out onto the open sea without damaging too much property and only stealing a few valuables. The crew was in high spirits, excited to be on the move again.
Days passed and Sanji felt himself floating through them in a strange haze, a mixture of contentment and surrealism. He found himself drifting off in the kitchen more than once. One minute he would be chopping vegetables, the next he would catch himself staring out at nothing, thinking of tanned skin and a low, growling voice in his ear. These lapses would range from a few short seconds, to ten, sometimes fifteen minutes. He didn’t mind, he was allowed to do this kind of thing, now that he had nothing to hide. So what if Zoro caught him staring off into space? The swordsman did it too. Sanji had seen him do it only yesterday.
Their rivalry was different now too. They still bickered, still fought, but there was a different motivation to it all now. After an insult was thrown or a foot thoughtlessly shot out to trip up a pair of boots, there was always a hidden smile or a quick flash of teeth between the two of them when no one was looking. They had not been intimate since that morning a few days ago, but their confidence hadn’t changed in the slightest. They were sharing a private joke, a special secret that held them together, even when they were on opposite sides of the ship.
Sanji enjoyed this new, uncharted territory. It was unpredictable and exciting. From where they were, they could go so many different ways, travel down so many different paths. The doors that had been unlocked in Sanji’s mind and heart, had been blown wide open, and he was thrilled and terrified to find out where they all led.
At the moment, the cook was standing in his kitchen, knife in hand, staring at a space somewhere between the floor and the dining table. He wasn’t seeing anything there in the room, no, he was replaying the sight of Zoro’s jaw clenching and the muscles of his neck flexing as he came, shuddering and shaking against his body. The thought of it still managed to slow Sanji’s heart. The cook had been so overwhelmed by Zoro’s power, his sexuality, that it was still all he saw when he lay his head down at night. Yesterday he had broken into a sweat in the middle of the deck just because he had glanced at Zoro as he lifted weights and was reminded of how the swordsman’s ab muscles had tensed when Sanji had rubbed his thumbs across that scar.
I want him again, he thought and set down his knife. He rolled his head, trying to work the tension out of his neck. If we don’t have sex again in the next day or two I’m going to go crazy.
He thought about their last conversation and a pleasant shiver rolled down his spine. Zoro was going to take him next. He was actually going to let Zoro fuck him, and the most amazing part about it all was that Sanji wanted it so fucking badly. He couldn’t even begin to-
An alarm went off.
It wasn’t the usual alarm, the one that buzzed throughout the ship letting the crew know a rival pirate ship or a Marine vessel had been spotted. No, this was something else that Sanji had not experienced yet.
He left the kitchen and moved out to the rail overlooking the lawn deck. Nami was there, and Usopp, and the two of them were looking wide-eyed out at the horizon on the starboard side.
“What’s happening?” Sanji asked.
Nami turned to him, her lovely eyes were dark and excited, not always a terrific combination with her.
“Hurricane,” she said simply.
“Oh,” Sanji breathed, “that’s all?”
Usopp was shaking next to the navigator. “No no, you don’t get it. This is the biggest hurricane that we’ve ever encountered. It’s even bigger than the one I lassoed and rode from Lilly Island all the way to-”
Sanji cut in, addressing Nami. “It’s far enough away that we can steer clear though, isn’t it?”
Nami shook her head.
“Shit.”
“We’re doomed,” Usopp wailed.
* * *
Seventeen hours later, the seas were calm, the wind had completely died down, and the entire crew of the Thousand Sunny lay sprawled on the deck, groaning and nursing various minor wounds, bumps, bruises, and more than one severe headache.
“That was the most amazing thing…” Nami said breathlessly.
“You’re amazing, Nami-san!”
“Seriously, I thought we were gonna die.”
“No way, not on my ship. Ow OW!”
Luffy clapped his hands together from where he hung bonelessly over the railing. “You guys were great! I knew I could count on my crew! We should celebrate making it through the storm by eating lots of meat!”
“I second that. Meat and wine.”
“That’s a really good idea, we all need to eat something. Our bodies need nutrients and lots of water. Everyone’s probably severely dehydrated.”
Sanji sat up slowly, rubbing a sore spot on the back of his head. Chopper had been knocked off the rigging a few hours before, had flown through the air, and the only thing that had stopped him from falling into the sea was the back of Sanji’s skull.
“I got it,” the cook said, “give me a minute to change my clothes and wash up first though.”
The crew cheered tiredly as he got to his feet and headed towards the boy’s cabin. Maybe he would grab a bottle of painkillers too.
Inside the cabin was a disaster. The lockers had been warped and the doors had flown open, dumping their contents out, and then the rocking from the wind and waves had stirred it all up and spread it across the entire floor.
“Oh great,” Sanji murmured, smiling despite the mess. He was enough passed annoyance and anger that everything seemed a little funny. He was also pretty tired.
The door opened behind him and the cook didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. Only one person on this ship opened and closed doors like that. He listened to the sound of graceful feet clad in heavy boots moving across the room, and started only a little when hands came around his waist. Warm lips pressed against the skin just below his jaw, and a rough voice growled into his ear.
“Nothing like almost dying to get you in the mood, huh?”
Sanji laughed and let his head fall back against Zoro’s shoulder. The swordsman left open-mouthed kisses down his neck and then pulled his collar away to reach his shoulder.
“It’s not that I’m not completely on board with this idea,” Sanji was grinning around his words, “but I’m expected in the galley in like, five seconds to make food for some of the biggest appetites in the universe.”
“I think my appetite right now would give theirs a run for their money,” Zoro’s voice was muffled as he continued kissing and mouthing down Sanji’s back, pulling the cook’s ruined jacket and shirt off as he went.
Turning, Sanji put his hands on Zoro’s chest and backed him up against the wall of the cabin. He pressed his lips to the swordsman’s, opening his mouth and licking inside to tease at Zoro’s tongue. They wrapped themselves around each other, grabbing onto the thing they both wanted so badly. They had been unable to think of anything else for the past four days, and now that buildup was at its peak. They were threads that had been pulled so tightly they had frayed and were now ready to snap.
“Look,” Sanji said between kisses, “let me put something together for them. I’ll wash up while they’re eating and then slip away. I can meet you in the crow’s nest.”
“You’re gonna make me sit in the galley and watch you cook? Like this? I’ll fucking kill someone.”
“Either that,” Sanji’s lips brushed across Zoro’s temple, “or you go ahead, fuck me in here, and Luffy barges in and starts asking questions.”
Zoro finally slowed and took a few deep breaths. He pulled back and his eyes seemed to clear. “Damnit…” he murmured. “Okay, fine, but you take too long washing up and I’ll come drag you out.”
Sanji laughed. “Deal.”
They separated, reluctantly, and Sanji moved toward the mess looking for his things amongst the clutter of insane items and objects belonging to his crewmates. He spotted a simple yellow button-down and picked it up. His examination found no snags, tears, or mysterious stains, so he slipped it on. A dark blue tie peeked out from under a drawer. He lifted the broken drawer and untangled the tie from the handle.
A flash of gold caught Sanji’s eye and he stopped.
Underneath the drawer was a mess of polishing oils, sharpening tools, and a pair of woven, gold earrings. They were long, meant to dangle from the tip of the earlobe, all the way to the shoulder. Threaded into the gold were small, round beads of varying colors.
Sanji remembered running his hands over those earrings, finding the beads and rolling them against the pads of his fingers. He would know these earrings anywhere, as he associated them to a moment of profound weakness on his part. They were burned into his memory and Sanji would never forget them as long as he lived.
But why were they here?
Something started to coil in Sanji’s gut. Trepidation, fear, shame. Then when the reality of the situation, and the gravity of what it could actually mean settled over him, white-hot anger flared up from somewhere deep inside him.
He stood and turned to Zoro, who had his back turned and was rifling through a pile of valuables a few feet from where Sanji was standing.
“Zoro…” Sanji said softly.
“Yeah,” Zoro didn’t stop what he was doing.
The anger flared brighter. “Zoro, look at me.”
Dark eyes glanced at him from over a shoulder and the swordsman straightened and turned around. “What the hell, cook? I’m not…”
Zoro’s face went white as a ghost when he saw what Sanji was holding, dangling from his fingers.
Trope’s earrings.
“What the hell is this?” Sanji asked. His voice was steady, but the look on Zoro’s face confirmed his worst fears. “Why the hell do you have these?”
“Uh…” Zoro took a step forward and put up his hands. “Okay, I can explain-”
“-Was it you?” Sanji interrupted. “That time in the dark?”
There was a little part of Sanji, a very tiny part, that was still holding out hope that this was all a mistake. There was in fact an explanation, and any moment now, Zoro was going to explain why Trope’s earrings were hidden away in one of his private drawers. But then the swordsman dropped his hands, and his face fell. Sanji saw the truth in every line of his face, in the curved way his back hunched. His mistake and his lie stood there between them like a dead, rotting animal. The smell of it thickened the air of the cabin with it’s sweet, sickly, scent.
Anger was all Sanji knew. His head was filled with it. It was beating through his heart.
“You bastard…” he said softly.
“Sanji-”
“Don’t fucking say my name,” Sanji hissed. “I can’t believe…” he dropped the earrings like they were hot, like they had burned his fingers. He backed away and started pacing, his hands going into his hair. The rage and disbelief were building, fighting with his mounting feelings of shame and betrayal.
“I actually felt bad,” he wasn’t looking at Zoro anymore. He couldn’t. “I felt so ashamed that I’d gone there and chosen someone that looked like you. I was so embarrassed… but you…”
“I was going to tell you-”
“-Don’t fucking talk to me!” Sanji roared. “You forfeited your right to say anything! I can’t believe… Oh god, oh fuck. I slept with you… I can’t…”
Sanji doubled over, his head swimming. Zoro had broken into one of the most private and vulnerable moments of his life, without him even knowing and now he was never going to be able to trust the swordsman ever again.
He didn’t realize he was crying until the tears fell from his cheeks and slapped against the metal of the drawer at his feet. How had this happened? He had been so happy only minutes ago, and now he was broken. His fucking heart was broken.
Taking a few breaths, Sanji found his equilibrium and was able to straighten again. He lifted his eyes and glanced up to see Zoro leaning against the open lockers, his face a picture of agony. He looked like someone had died and it was his fault.
Even after everything, even after the betrayal and the lies, Sanji still felt sorry for Zoro. He was angry, god he was furious and so fucking hurt, but he also knew that Zoro had not done what he had done out of malice, or some nefarious plan of humiliation.
The cook to several deep breaths before he wiped at his face and tried to speak.
“Just tell me one thing,” at the sound of his voice, Zoro flinched. “Why? Why did you do it?”
Zoro was still looking at a point on the floor a few feet from where Sanji stood. His jaw clenched and unclenched, and his left hand tightened around the hilt of his white sword as if searching for strength, or maybe just comfort.
A few long moments of silence stretched between them. Neither of them moved. They might not have even breathed.
“I’m fucking crazy over you,” Zoro finally said.
Sanji’s broken heart thumped in his chest.
“Not an excuse,” the swordsman continued in a soft, unsteady voice, “but I don’t know what else to say. It happened fast, and I swear I was going to tell you, but then I didn’t.”
He looked up, miserable dark eyes finding Sanji’s and holding them.
“I’m sorry.”
There wasn’t anything else to say. Sanji needed time to think, and Zoro needed to be alone, so the cook sniffed and bent to pick up the tie he had dropped on the floor. When he straightened, he looked back up at Zoro and nodded.
“Stay away from me for a few days,” he said. “We can figure this out later.”
Zoro nodded, his gaze moving away again to stare at that same patch of nothing. When Sanji opened the door, he heard Zoro slide to the floor, but he didn’t look back.
The cook wiped at his face again, and made his way to the galley.
* * *
Sanji and Zoro did not get a chance to figure it out until much, much later.
Not long after Sanji had fed the crew, they had rested and cleaned up most of the damage and debris from the storm, and they were back to their regular routines, they met a mermaid. That mermaid took them on an adventure that led them to the final island in Paradise. An Island which wasn’t an island at all, but a massive mangrove forest.
In this place, the Strawhats were separated, and Zoro and Sanji did not see each other again for over two years.
TBC
All previous chapters here.
:]
Warnings for this chapter:
1) There is a chunk of SanjixZoro towards the end. (My blood is actually boiling in response to the fact that I have to make this a warning, but there it is. In short, I. Don't. Care. If. You. Don't. Like. Sanzo. It's important to the narrative in this story and there will be a nice chunk of Zosan in the last chapter so Deal With It.)
2) Zoro and Sanji say fuck a lot. Like, a LOT.
3) I may have messed with canon timeline a bit. I'm not actually sure.
4) Drunk dialogue.
Title: The Nature Of Things
Authors: sinisterbug and stark_black
Rating: Big fat R to NC-17
Paring: Zoro/hookers/Zoro, Sanji/hookers, and eventually Zoro/Sanji/Zoro
Warnings: Yaoi, language, and general stupidity.
Summary: When the Sunny docks, Sanji and Zoro sometimes seek out relief in some not so savory places. After crossing paths in town on more than one occasion, the two find they have a lot more in common than they would like to admit.
<< Part 1 Here
They ended up returning to the ship. It just seemed right. The walk had been quiet and comfortable, the silence filled with a strangely wonderful tension. An excitement that neither man could put a name to, or even contemplate fully. They hadn’t planned it, their feet just took them in that direction and before long they were standing at the foot of the dock.
Sanji said nothing and climbed aboard. Zoro followed.
They had no idea who was on watch, or if anyone was on watch at all. Franky had installed safes with locks on them so complicated only himself and Nami could open them. And if anyone tried to steal the ship itself… well, good luck to that poor soul trying to operate the damn thing. There wasn’t really much need for a watchman.
Zoro hoped they were alone. He personally didn’t care if they weren’t, but he was a little anxious as to what Sanji might do if he discovered Luffy, or Chopper, or-god forbid-one of the girls was on the ship with them.
That thought flew out of his head when Sanji turned to him, still making his way across the deck, and slipped his tie from around his neck.
“Still need that shower,” he said softly.
Zoro felt like a hungry dog being offered steak. He followed Sanji without question through the surveying room and up the ladder. When they reached the bathroom, Sanji pulled off his shirt and kicked off his shoes. He swiftly stripped the rest of his clothing off and moved into the spa. Zoro heard the sudden spray of water and swallowed thickly. Shedding his own clothes, he stepped through the door and watched the cook run his hands through his hair and down his neck. Water cascaded down his pale skin, tracing lines through hard muscle and down long legs.
He looked up at Zoro, no doubt sensing the swordsman’s hesitancy, or his disbelief, or whatever the hell Zoro was feeling at the moment. He couldn’t decide what it was.
“Come here,” the cook said softly.
Zoro had never felt this way before, and the uncertainty of it made him nervous, wary. Sanji seemed to know just what to do, however, so when strong hands gripped his arm and pulled him under the spray, Zoro didn’t fight it. When the cook turned him around and slid his hand up the swordsman’s back and across his shoulders, Zoro just let it happen. He relaxed into the beat of the hot water and let Sanji work his magic. The cook had always been better at this sort of thing. He was more intuitive, more into the sensuality of the act. Zoro was fine with that and let himself be maneuvered and gently controlled, washed with care and reverence. He already trusted Sanji with his life, it wasn’t that much farther of a stretch to give in and trust the cook with his body and his heart.
“I have a pull-out bed in the galley,” Sanji said as he toweled Zoro’s hair dry, “that okay?”
Zoro nodded, still unable to speak. Would he ever be able to speak again? He didn’t know.
They wrapped towels around their waists and threw their clothes over their shoulders before they made their way back down the ladder. Sanji unlocked the door to the galley and then locked it again behind them, laying his clothes on a chair and dropping the towel in a heap on the floor. Zoro just stood watching, unable to decide his next move. His heart was pounding in his chest, his stomach was tying itself into knots as Sanji moved about his kitchen, completely nude, his hair glowing a golden yellow in the mellow rays of sunlight pouring in through the portholes.
“I sleep here sometimes when breakfast prep keeps me up late,” he said as he pulled out a full-size bed hidden in the couch. “It’s not the most comfortable thing in the world, but it does the job.”
The cook straightened and turned to look at Zoro, a half smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.
“You gonna stand by the door all day, or are you coming over here?”
Zoro swallowed again, thickly, his mouth had gone completely dry. Still saying nothing, he dropped his clothes and boots on the floor and pulled the towel from his waist. He moved carefully across the room, his fingers ghosting over the dining table as he passed in a vain attempt at steadying himself.
When he neared Sanji, the cook reached out his hand and pulled Zoro close. His blue eyes were still soft and held the tiniest bit of humor.
“You haven’t said a word since we left the brothel. Having second thoughts?”
“No,” Zoro managed to choke out. Hell no, there was no goddamn way he was having second thoughts. It would take a monsoon, the entire Navy, and army of sea kings, and the wrath of Nami on a treasure-hunting tirade to get him to back out of this now.
“I just don’t know what to think,” he said.
“Why do you need to be thinking about anything?”
Zoro had only a moment to ponder those words before Sanji’s hands went to his jaw. Strong fingers slid around to the back of his neck and a thumb pressed underneath his chin, tilting his head.
Everything in Zoro’s body pulled tight as Sanji’s lips came a hair’s breadth from his own. The cook inhaled Zoro’s sharp exhale and spoke softly into his mouth.
“Last chance…”
Zoro’s restraint snapped. He was already damned, why hold back?
There was a brief space of time, a blink, one single heartbeat where Zoro thought that this couldn’t be real, there was no way he was this lucky, and then he was kissing Sanji.
The cook’s lips were soft but chapped, exactly the way Zoro thought they would be. He tasted of coffee, and his tongue was as sly in this as it was when he hurled dirty insults at an enemy or slipped silver-laden compliments into the ear of a lovely woman. Zoro’s hands went to muscled hips, but before he could pull the two of them closer together, Sanji pulled away and was pushing Zoro backward.
“Lie down,” the cook breathed, and Zoro was glad to hear the cook’s voice was as raspy and uneven as he felt himself.
The mattress was firm but in a supportive kind of way. There was a single, blue sheet as cover, and two thin pillows. Sanji had tossed the blanket aside. Zoro lay on his back and rested his head on one of the pillows. He wasn’t sure if this was how the cook wanted him but it seemed like the most obvious option.
He watched, humming with excitement as Sanji took three bottles from the counter, all of which he had found during the search of his cupboards, and placed them on the lamp stand beside the couch. Then he sat on the edge of the bed next to Zoro’s hip. His eyes had gone a darker shade of blue, and when he caught Zoro’s gaze, the swordsman shuddered helplessly.
Their lips met again, and this time the kiss had heat behind it. Zoro felt the pillow sag next to his head as Sanji leaned over him. He felt fingers sliding around his throat, tilting his jaw, manipulating his movements. Zoro had never surrendered himself like this to anyone before, and was surprised to find it so easy, so natural. His experiences before this had all been fleeting, meaningless encounters with people he didn’t care about, or at least, didn’t care deeply about. There had been no reason to give them this part of himself. He had been holding back, waiting. Waiting for a reason to let himself go.
Sanji was trailing kisses down his jaw, and then his neck. Biting softly at junctions and running his tongue over contours of muscle. Zoro tried desperately not to moan. He could surrender himself to Sanji, because of their bond, because of their trust, but he was not yet ready to let himself break completely open. There would be time for that later.
At the same moment he reached up to push his fingers through blond hair, Sanji swept his tongue over the tip of his scar. Zoro arched and hissed, pulling roughly at the damp locks at the back of the cook’s head.
“Shit…” he whispered.
“You like that?” Sanji asked.
“No one’s ever tried that before.”
He could feel Sanji’s smile against his skin. “And?”
“Yeah, I like it.”
“Ah,” was all the response Sanji gave him before he shifted, and climbed up onto the bed. He straddled Zoro’s thighs and the swordsman got one quick flash of a mischievous smile before strong thumbs pressed into the sensitive flesh at the edges of the scar, and a hot tongue ran the length of it from center chest all the way up to his shoulder.
Zoro’s back bowed. White hot pleasure rocketed through him. He could feel it tingling in the tips of his fingers and toes, dancing through his loins, making his cock ache.
“H-holy shit…” he couldn’t breathe. He was losing his mind.
“I didn’t know you had any feeling in it,” Sanji said.
“I… didn’t either.” He couldn’t decide what to do with his hands, and because he didn’t want to rip Sanji’s hair out, or something equally stupid, he fisted both in the pillow on either side of his head. He had never experienced sensations like these before. The press of Sanji’s thumbs into his scar was painful and exquisite at the same time, and if the feel of the cook’s tongue on his skin was already amazing, then the feel of it on his scar was unbelievable.
Of course, it would be Sanji that brought these new sensations to life. No one in their right mind would have the audacity to do the things that Sanji was doing to him. No one else would have the balls to even try.
Abruptly, Sanji’s touch left him, and Zoro opened his eyes in time to see the cook reaching for one of the bottles on the lampstand. He popped the top and poured a small amount of whatever it was into his hand, and then replaced the cap and tossed the bottle. He then rubbed his hands together slowly, and Zoro smelled a sweet smell that made him think of desserts and fruity cocktails.
“What’s that?”
Sanji grinned. “Coconut flavored body oil.”
Zoro snorted a laugh. “Are you serious?”
Lowering his hands, Sanji returned his touch to Zoro’s chest, this time massaging in small circles at the edges of the scar.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to touch this thing.”
“Probably as long as I’ve wanted to lick the sweat off your back,” Zoro murmured.
“Hm, that’s fair.”
The cook continued to rub small circles along the outside of the raised flesh, and with every press he left a soft kiss or a teasing swipe of his tongue. Zoro let his head fall back and he growled softly up at the ceiling. He wasn’t used to this kind of treatment, this gentle exploration. Not that Zoro would have let anyone else in the known universe do this to him. It undid him in ways he had never thought were possible, and it was terrifying. Terrifying and exhilarating.
Finally, just as Zoro was about to beg Sanji to stop, the cook’s hands slid to his hips and he felt the blond’s weight shift. A warm hand gently slapped the inside of his thigh, and Zoro obliged, understanding the request. The swordsman spread his legs so Sanji could kneel between them, and before he could adjust himself, that hand was coming around his cock, slick and deft in its touch.
Zoro made a sound that probably shamed his ancestors, and pushed up on his elbows. He was almost mad with the ache and the pleasure Sanji was coaxing from his body, he almost couldn’t breathe with it, but more than anything, he wanted to see. He wanted to watch as Sanji stroked him, wanted to see his eyes.
Shit, he was so hot. The look Sanji was giving him as he watched Zoro writhe beneath his hands was almost one of reverence. The swordsman couldn’t take it, he wasn’t going to last if Sanji was going to look at him like that, and the last thing he wanted was to come all over himself prematurely while sobbing like a goddamn baby.
He sat up and propped himself on his hands. He was breathing heavily but he managed to keep his voice under control as he spoke.
“Come on, cook. We gonna pop your cherry, or what?”
Teeth flashed in one of those grins that drove Zoro completely wild.
“Full disclosure, this is where I get a little lost.”
“What,” Zoro chuckled breathlessly, “you don’t know where to put it?”
Sanji laughed against his mouth. “Don’t be an ass. I understand the basics, I just don’t want to do something that’s going to kill the mood or… hurt you or something.” His voice had gone quiet, like he was nervous. Zoro found he liked that a little and kissed him again, rough and wet, and entirely too short.
“I’ll walk you through it,” he said, lying back. “You have lube in one of those bottles?”
Sanji nodded, reaching for what was left on the lamp stand. “Do I need to um…”
Shit he was cute sometimes. “I said I’ll walk you through it. We’ll go slow.”
“Okay.”
Sanji took instruction well; better than Zoro had ever hoped. It was strange, telling the cook what to do, where to touch-fuck yeah, just like that- and how to move. They had been at such odds only weeks ago, and now here they were, doing this perfect, intimate thing, completely in synch with each other. Zoro setting the pace, and Sanji following in seamless rhythm.
Zoro began to see how Sanji had gotten so good at so many things. He listened, he understood, and when he got the essentials he took the reins and made it his own. It was fascinating and sexy the way his eyes calculated and the way his jaw set in quiet determination. When he watched Sanji’s hand close around himself, watched as the cook lifted Zoro’s knee and spread his legs wide, the swordsman’s breath caught. Sanji was gentle as he pressed forward, listening to Zoro’s instructions on when to stop and when to start again. By the time he was fully seated, they were both covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and Zoro was panting once again.
“Oh my god,” Sanji whispered.
Zoro was floating in a haze of pain and raw, exquisite, pleasure. His eyes were closed, so when the cook’s fingers traced the line of his jaw, he started. When he opened them, he found Sanji close, watching his face and running his thumb over the line of Zoro’s lips.
It was in that moment, as the cook’s body settled over him, and his blue eyes searched far deeper than either of them would like to admit, that Zoro felt a wave of emotion take hold of him. It was unexpected but only in its timing. Zoro knew that something like this was bound to happen, but he had been sure that it would come after this was over, and he had nothing but the memories of their time together to cling to.
“Hey,” Sanji whispered, “still with me?”
The cook was trembling, his hand was shaking as it trailed down Zoro’s face. The tenderness in his touch undid the swordsman and he responded the only way he could. With action.
He wrapped his ankles around Sanji’s thighs, and lifted his head to capture the cook’s chapped lips in another one of those rough, wet, kisses.
“Fuck me,” he growled into Sanji’s mouth, “come on.” Please. “Gimme all you got.” I need you.
Sanji groaned and braced himself on his elbow, the opposite hand lowering from Zoro’s face to grip the sheet. He kissed the swordsman’s lips once, softly, and then snapped his hips forward.
Lightening flashed behind Zoro’s eyes.
Oh god…
Sanji dug the balls of his feet into the mattress and snapped his hips forward again. Zoro’s breath caught as another lightning bold of pleasure shot through him.
“F-fuck!”
The muscles in the cook’s thighs flexed as he moved, rippling on the inside of Zoro’s legs. He snapped his hips forward a third time and made a soft sound of pleasure against Zoro’s lips.
“Ah, goddamn cook,” Zoro heard himself say, “don’t you fucking stop.”
Another powerful thrust forward and pain was synonymous with pleasure.
“Like I could stop,” Sanji’s voice was still low, just barely above a whisper. “You undo me, you fucking bastard. You fucking sexy son of a bitch.”
Their movements were fluid. Zoro’s hips rose to meet Sanji’s, and the two of them rocked together, breathing each other’s air. Zoro watched Sanji’s face, the way his hair fell across his cheeks and nose, the flush of his pale skin, the line of sweat running from his brow all the way down to his chin. Zoro reached up with both hands and slid his fingers into blond locks. He pushed them back, out of those blue eyes, and shuddered when he discovered the full intensity of Sanji’s gaze.
It had never felt like this before, and Zoro wasn’t sure if it was the effortless power in Sanji’s hips, the strength of his body, or if it was their emotional connection cunningly playing with the strings of his heart. Sex wasn’t supposed to be like this. It wasn’t supposed to be this overwhelming. It wasn’t supposed to make you feel this powerful, or this fucking complete.
It seemed to go on forever, and Zoro wanted it to never end. Sanji’s pants turned into soft moans of pleasure. Zoro finally closed his eyes and let the feeling take him away. He held on to Sanji’s shoulders and kissed the cook’s mouth, his neck, his forehead. He felt the pressure building, coiling in his muscles, and in his gut. His cock ached with neglected tension as his loins started to tighten up.
“Holy shit,” Sanji breathed, “you’re close, aren’t you? I can feel it.”
Zoro nipped at the cook’s bottom lip and tried to form coherent thoughts.
“Yeah.”
“What do you want me to do?” Sanji asked, and his movements slowed just a little.
Shit, he was losing it. Zoro was slipping fast, faster than he ever had before. Sanji’s fucking voice and his fucking body, and those goddamn, fucking eyes. Shit… shit it felt so good.
“Just… harder,” he growled as he nipped at the cook a second time, managing to catch some of that pale neck between his teeth. “Try and break me.”
Sanji did as he was told. He raised himself up on his hands and brought his knees up underneath Zoro’s thighs. This time when he thrust forward, he had leverage. The force of his movements nearly knocked the wind right out of Zoro’s lungs. More of that same white-hot pleasure shot through him and he made a noise through his teeth. He couldn’t hold the noises back anymore. It was time to break open.
One of Sanji’s hands found the back of the couch and that changed the angle to something even more exquisite. His hips pounded into Zoro with a force that was as brutal as it was satisfying. Zoro wrapped his hand around his cock, pumping himself in desperate, uneven jerks. The fingers of his other hand went around Sanji’s wrist. The cook still had one hand fisted in the sheet by the swordsman’s head.
Zoro’s orgasm tightened in his balls, and he tugged on himself roughly as Sanji laid into him. The cook’s gasps of pleasure and fatigue were a symphony on his ears as ecstasy boiled up and spilled over. He pulsed in his hand, spilling warmth over his fingers as bliss coursed through his veins and out to every corner of his body.
He lost a few moments of time, his vision blackening temporarily before he returned to himself. He was still breathing hard, still throbbing, riding on echoes of his release as he opened his eyes, and found Sanji watching him with eyes wide and lips parted.
Their movements had slowed to almost nothing, and the cook was looking at him desperately. He was panting heavily as well, sweat beading on his forehead.
“Can I keep going?” Sanji asked.
“Yeah,” was all Zoro could say. He was still coming down and he was sure if he tried to say anything else, he wouldn’t be able to form the words.
Sanji started moving again, and Zoro let go of himself and slid his hands over pale hips to grip a lean but muscled ass. He spread his legs a little wider and lifted his knees.
“Ah… fuck…” Sanji gasped as he adjusted to the new position. “I’m gonna come. You want me to pull out?”
“Hell no,” Zoro growled, and gripped Sanji’s ass harder. There was a little pain now, but it was worth getting to watch Sanji’s face as he started to lose it.
Expletives started to tumble from Sanji’s lips and the cook froze. Zoro felt the first pulse inside him and shuddered when Sanji dropped his forehead to rest it against his own. The cook gave a few more slow, easy thrusts that drove Zoro almost mad before he finally stilled.
“Holy shit,” Sanji panted. “Holy shit holy shit…”
Feeling loose and completely satisfied with himself, Zoro pushed at the cook’s hips and carefully extricated Sanji from between his thighs. The sharp pain of Sanji’s softening cock leaving his body was startling but it was also sweet, and the swordsman maneuvered that lean body to lie next to him.
The cook went easily and then lay with his eyes closed, breathing heavily. Zoro propped himself up on his elbow and watched Sanji slide his fingers through his hair and rest his palms on his forehead. He found the action overwhelmingly sexy and leaned in to kiss a few stray beads of sweat off Sanji’s jaw.
“There,” Zoro said softly, “you’ve been educated in the ways of gay sex.”
Sanji laughed and slipped one hand behind his head, the other he let fall to his chest. “Not completely.”
“Oh?” Zoro said, moving his lips down Sanji’s throat. “There something else you want to try?”
The cook lifted his hand and absently ran his fingers into the back of Zoro’s hair. “Of course. You still have to fuck me.”
Zoro stilled. He wasn’t sure if it was Sanji’s words, or the cook’s gentle, intimate touch that had slowed his heart, but he found himself frozen, unable to speak.
He must have been silent and unmoving for too long because Sanji tugged on a strand of his hair and scoffed. “Okay, fine, if you don’t want to-”
“-No no no,” Zoro cut in and adjusted himself so he could look up into Sanji’s face, “Don’t be stupid, of course I want to. I just didn’t think… you’d want to.”
Sanji cocked an eyebrow and smiled at him. “Why?”
“I don’t know,” Zoro made a face, “Some guys just don’t… I thought you wouldn’t want… I don’t know, never mind.”
Rolling his eyes, Sanji kissed Zoro’s lips around a smile and sat up. “I can take whatever you can dish out, Marimo. Don’t forget it.”
Zoro snickered at the phrasing and lay back, sleepy and sated. “Okay, love-cook. You can’t get enough of me, I get it.”
His pants hit his face and he heard his boots hit the floor next to the bed. When he pulled the fabric away and looked up, Sanji was there, smiling softly around an unlit cigarette.
“You can sleep here, but you have to put your clothes on. Don’t want to scar the other members of the crew.”
Zoro snorted. “Worried your Nami-san will come in and discover our little secret?”
Sanji turned away and Zoro heard the click of the lighter. “No, I’m more worried about Chopper or Usopp wandering in and going blind.”
Chucking, Zoro sat up and pulled his pants back on.
* * *
The Strawhats left the island before the Marines or anyone of interest caught their scent, and made it back out onto the open sea without damaging too much property and only stealing a few valuables. The crew was in high spirits, excited to be on the move again.
Days passed and Sanji felt himself floating through them in a strange haze, a mixture of contentment and surrealism. He found himself drifting off in the kitchen more than once. One minute he would be chopping vegetables, the next he would catch himself staring out at nothing, thinking of tanned skin and a low, growling voice in his ear. These lapses would range from a few short seconds, to ten, sometimes fifteen minutes. He didn’t mind, he was allowed to do this kind of thing, now that he had nothing to hide. So what if Zoro caught him staring off into space? The swordsman did it too. Sanji had seen him do it only yesterday.
Their rivalry was different now too. They still bickered, still fought, but there was a different motivation to it all now. After an insult was thrown or a foot thoughtlessly shot out to trip up a pair of boots, there was always a hidden smile or a quick flash of teeth between the two of them when no one was looking. They had not been intimate since that morning a few days ago, but their confidence hadn’t changed in the slightest. They were sharing a private joke, a special secret that held them together, even when they were on opposite sides of the ship.
Sanji enjoyed this new, uncharted territory. It was unpredictable and exciting. From where they were, they could go so many different ways, travel down so many different paths. The doors that had been unlocked in Sanji’s mind and heart, had been blown wide open, and he was thrilled and terrified to find out where they all led.
At the moment, the cook was standing in his kitchen, knife in hand, staring at a space somewhere between the floor and the dining table. He wasn’t seeing anything there in the room, no, he was replaying the sight of Zoro’s jaw clenching and the muscles of his neck flexing as he came, shuddering and shaking against his body. The thought of it still managed to slow Sanji’s heart. The cook had been so overwhelmed by Zoro’s power, his sexuality, that it was still all he saw when he lay his head down at night. Yesterday he had broken into a sweat in the middle of the deck just because he had glanced at Zoro as he lifted weights and was reminded of how the swordsman’s ab muscles had tensed when Sanji had rubbed his thumbs across that scar.
I want him again, he thought and set down his knife. He rolled his head, trying to work the tension out of his neck. If we don’t have sex again in the next day or two I’m going to go crazy.
He thought about their last conversation and a pleasant shiver rolled down his spine. Zoro was going to take him next. He was actually going to let Zoro fuck him, and the most amazing part about it all was that Sanji wanted it so fucking badly. He couldn’t even begin to-
An alarm went off.
It wasn’t the usual alarm, the one that buzzed throughout the ship letting the crew know a rival pirate ship or a Marine vessel had been spotted. No, this was something else that Sanji had not experienced yet.
He left the kitchen and moved out to the rail overlooking the lawn deck. Nami was there, and Usopp, and the two of them were looking wide-eyed out at the horizon on the starboard side.
“What’s happening?” Sanji asked.
Nami turned to him, her lovely eyes were dark and excited, not always a terrific combination with her.
“Hurricane,” she said simply.
“Oh,” Sanji breathed, “that’s all?”
Usopp was shaking next to the navigator. “No no, you don’t get it. This is the biggest hurricane that we’ve ever encountered. It’s even bigger than the one I lassoed and rode from Lilly Island all the way to-”
Sanji cut in, addressing Nami. “It’s far enough away that we can steer clear though, isn’t it?”
Nami shook her head.
“Shit.”
“We’re doomed,” Usopp wailed.
* * *
Seventeen hours later, the seas were calm, the wind had completely died down, and the entire crew of the Thousand Sunny lay sprawled on the deck, groaning and nursing various minor wounds, bumps, bruises, and more than one severe headache.
“That was the most amazing thing…” Nami said breathlessly.
“You’re amazing, Nami-san!”
“Seriously, I thought we were gonna die.”
“No way, not on my ship. Ow OW!”
Luffy clapped his hands together from where he hung bonelessly over the railing. “You guys were great! I knew I could count on my crew! We should celebrate making it through the storm by eating lots of meat!”
“I second that. Meat and wine.”
“That’s a really good idea, we all need to eat something. Our bodies need nutrients and lots of water. Everyone’s probably severely dehydrated.”
Sanji sat up slowly, rubbing a sore spot on the back of his head. Chopper had been knocked off the rigging a few hours before, had flown through the air, and the only thing that had stopped him from falling into the sea was the back of Sanji’s skull.
“I got it,” the cook said, “give me a minute to change my clothes and wash up first though.”
The crew cheered tiredly as he got to his feet and headed towards the boy’s cabin. Maybe he would grab a bottle of painkillers too.
Inside the cabin was a disaster. The lockers had been warped and the doors had flown open, dumping their contents out, and then the rocking from the wind and waves had stirred it all up and spread it across the entire floor.
“Oh great,” Sanji murmured, smiling despite the mess. He was enough passed annoyance and anger that everything seemed a little funny. He was also pretty tired.
The door opened behind him and the cook didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. Only one person on this ship opened and closed doors like that. He listened to the sound of graceful feet clad in heavy boots moving across the room, and started only a little when hands came around his waist. Warm lips pressed against the skin just below his jaw, and a rough voice growled into his ear.
“Nothing like almost dying to get you in the mood, huh?”
Sanji laughed and let his head fall back against Zoro’s shoulder. The swordsman left open-mouthed kisses down his neck and then pulled his collar away to reach his shoulder.
“It’s not that I’m not completely on board with this idea,” Sanji was grinning around his words, “but I’m expected in the galley in like, five seconds to make food for some of the biggest appetites in the universe.”
“I think my appetite right now would give theirs a run for their money,” Zoro’s voice was muffled as he continued kissing and mouthing down Sanji’s back, pulling the cook’s ruined jacket and shirt off as he went.
Turning, Sanji put his hands on Zoro’s chest and backed him up against the wall of the cabin. He pressed his lips to the swordsman’s, opening his mouth and licking inside to tease at Zoro’s tongue. They wrapped themselves around each other, grabbing onto the thing they both wanted so badly. They had been unable to think of anything else for the past four days, and now that buildup was at its peak. They were threads that had been pulled so tightly they had frayed and were now ready to snap.
“Look,” Sanji said between kisses, “let me put something together for them. I’ll wash up while they’re eating and then slip away. I can meet you in the crow’s nest.”
“You’re gonna make me sit in the galley and watch you cook? Like this? I’ll fucking kill someone.”
“Either that,” Sanji’s lips brushed across Zoro’s temple, “or you go ahead, fuck me in here, and Luffy barges in and starts asking questions.”
Zoro finally slowed and took a few deep breaths. He pulled back and his eyes seemed to clear. “Damnit…” he murmured. “Okay, fine, but you take too long washing up and I’ll come drag you out.”
Sanji laughed. “Deal.”
They separated, reluctantly, and Sanji moved toward the mess looking for his things amongst the clutter of insane items and objects belonging to his crewmates. He spotted a simple yellow button-down and picked it up. His examination found no snags, tears, or mysterious stains, so he slipped it on. A dark blue tie peeked out from under a drawer. He lifted the broken drawer and untangled the tie from the handle.
A flash of gold caught Sanji’s eye and he stopped.
Underneath the drawer was a mess of polishing oils, sharpening tools, and a pair of woven, gold earrings. They were long, meant to dangle from the tip of the earlobe, all the way to the shoulder. Threaded into the gold were small, round beads of varying colors.
Sanji remembered running his hands over those earrings, finding the beads and rolling them against the pads of his fingers. He would know these earrings anywhere, as he associated them to a moment of profound weakness on his part. They were burned into his memory and Sanji would never forget them as long as he lived.
But why were they here?
Something started to coil in Sanji’s gut. Trepidation, fear, shame. Then when the reality of the situation, and the gravity of what it could actually mean settled over him, white-hot anger flared up from somewhere deep inside him.
He stood and turned to Zoro, who had his back turned and was rifling through a pile of valuables a few feet from where Sanji was standing.
“Zoro…” Sanji said softly.
“Yeah,” Zoro didn’t stop what he was doing.
The anger flared brighter. “Zoro, look at me.”
Dark eyes glanced at him from over a shoulder and the swordsman straightened and turned around. “What the hell, cook? I’m not…”
Zoro’s face went white as a ghost when he saw what Sanji was holding, dangling from his fingers.
Trope’s earrings.
“What the hell is this?” Sanji asked. His voice was steady, but the look on Zoro’s face confirmed his worst fears. “Why the hell do you have these?”
“Uh…” Zoro took a step forward and put up his hands. “Okay, I can explain-”
“-Was it you?” Sanji interrupted. “That time in the dark?”
There was a little part of Sanji, a very tiny part, that was still holding out hope that this was all a mistake. There was in fact an explanation, and any moment now, Zoro was going to explain why Trope’s earrings were hidden away in one of his private drawers. But then the swordsman dropped his hands, and his face fell. Sanji saw the truth in every line of his face, in the curved way his back hunched. His mistake and his lie stood there between them like a dead, rotting animal. The smell of it thickened the air of the cabin with it’s sweet, sickly, scent.
Anger was all Sanji knew. His head was filled with it. It was beating through his heart.
“You bastard…” he said softly.
“Sanji-”
“Don’t fucking say my name,” Sanji hissed. “I can’t believe…” he dropped the earrings like they were hot, like they had burned his fingers. He backed away and started pacing, his hands going into his hair. The rage and disbelief were building, fighting with his mounting feelings of shame and betrayal.
“I actually felt bad,” he wasn’t looking at Zoro anymore. He couldn’t. “I felt so ashamed that I’d gone there and chosen someone that looked like you. I was so embarrassed… but you…”
“I was going to tell you-”
“-Don’t fucking talk to me!” Sanji roared. “You forfeited your right to say anything! I can’t believe… Oh god, oh fuck. I slept with you… I can’t…”
Sanji doubled over, his head swimming. Zoro had broken into one of the most private and vulnerable moments of his life, without him even knowing and now he was never going to be able to trust the swordsman ever again.
He didn’t realize he was crying until the tears fell from his cheeks and slapped against the metal of the drawer at his feet. How had this happened? He had been so happy only minutes ago, and now he was broken. His fucking heart was broken.
Taking a few breaths, Sanji found his equilibrium and was able to straighten again. He lifted his eyes and glanced up to see Zoro leaning against the open lockers, his face a picture of agony. He looked like someone had died and it was his fault.
Even after everything, even after the betrayal and the lies, Sanji still felt sorry for Zoro. He was angry, god he was furious and so fucking hurt, but he also knew that Zoro had not done what he had done out of malice, or some nefarious plan of humiliation.
The cook to several deep breaths before he wiped at his face and tried to speak.
“Just tell me one thing,” at the sound of his voice, Zoro flinched. “Why? Why did you do it?”
Zoro was still looking at a point on the floor a few feet from where Sanji stood. His jaw clenched and unclenched, and his left hand tightened around the hilt of his white sword as if searching for strength, or maybe just comfort.
A few long moments of silence stretched between them. Neither of them moved. They might not have even breathed.
“I’m fucking crazy over you,” Zoro finally said.
Sanji’s broken heart thumped in his chest.
“Not an excuse,” the swordsman continued in a soft, unsteady voice, “but I don’t know what else to say. It happened fast, and I swear I was going to tell you, but then I didn’t.”
He looked up, miserable dark eyes finding Sanji’s and holding them.
“I’m sorry.”
There wasn’t anything else to say. Sanji needed time to think, and Zoro needed to be alone, so the cook sniffed and bent to pick up the tie he had dropped on the floor. When he straightened, he looked back up at Zoro and nodded.
“Stay away from me for a few days,” he said. “We can figure this out later.”
Zoro nodded, his gaze moving away again to stare at that same patch of nothing. When Sanji opened the door, he heard Zoro slide to the floor, but he didn’t look back.
The cook wiped at his face again, and made his way to the galley.
* * *
Sanji and Zoro did not get a chance to figure it out until much, much later.
Not long after Sanji had fed the crew, they had rested and cleaned up most of the damage and debris from the storm, and they were back to their regular routines, they met a mermaid. That mermaid took them on an adventure that led them to the final island in Paradise. An Island which wasn’t an island at all, but a massive mangrove forest.
In this place, the Strawhats were separated, and Zoro and Sanji did not see each other again for over two years.
TBC
All previous chapters here.
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