Blindfolds were kinky. The thought of being completely vulnerable, at the mercy of another human being, blind to the world…while potentially being fondled here and there was sexy.
Handcuffs were suggestive. Definitely. There's no way that two civilians could have a pair (or two) in their possession without automatically being a little turned on…right?
"Hey Zoro...want to have a little fun?"
When Sanji had approached Zoro with these items and winked slyly at him, it had taken more than a little self-restraint to keep the swordsman from ravishing the cook right then and there. Sanji was holding out a dark blue silk tie and a pair of--oh my god--fuzzy handcuffs.
What Zoro didn't know was that the items were meant for him to wear. Zoro had hoped he'd be on the receiving end of a strip tease or something equally torrid, but instead found himself bound to the chair without a single lingering touch or teasing kiss. The cook had moved so quickly that it took a moment for the swordsman to realized what had happened. The hard wood of the chair was cushioned by a plump pillow, and Zoro half-heartedly shifted while trying to find a means of escape.
Being blindfolded, handcuffed to a chair, and ordered by a perverted chef to stay, like some mangy cur, was not sexy. He didn't belong to anybody. Roronoa Zoro, Ex-Pirate Hunter and Second Mate to the infamous Monkey D. Luffy, was nobody's bitch. Especially not some prissy little cook who didn't even have a real picture on his bounty poster.
Zoro felt a rumble in his chest and a feral growl tore out of his lips. "You got me all riled up and hopeful, but you're just going to keep me tied up?"
He heard the steady rhythm of a knife chopping vegetables pause momentarily, then resume.
"Yeah, I am." The simple response betrayed a hint of amusement, and an ocean's worth of patience. There was a slight hissing sound, and the aroma of beef cooking on a pan wafted towards the bound swordsman.
Zoro squirmed, trying to escape his bonds. He could have simply torn through the wood of the chair, but then he'd have a money-grubbing navigator nagging him about the cost of furniture, a pissed-off carpenter wailing over the lost craftsmanship, and a sniper who was just sentimental about ships after losing Merry. He decided that it would be better to let the chair live.
But that shitty cook definitely would not, if he kept this up.
The sound of footsteps carried over to the chair, and he knew that it was Sanji. The steps were light for his weight, but carried a sense of confidence and comfort with his body. They were the steps of a man who could kick your face in while serving a tray of delicacies to his precious ladies. The thick soles made surprisingly little noise on the creaking wooden floor.
Zoro felt a slight draft in front of his face as something was waved before his nose. His nose twitched, and he could smell a mix of spices and some kind of meat. His mouth betrayed him as he began to drool a little.
"What the hell is this? You're not going to just—oooh, that's good," Zoro said as a pair of chopsticks gently placed a piece of whatever was on the plate on his lips. He opened his lips slightly, and was rewarded with the rich and savory taste of some stewed meat. It was tender, hot, and perfectly seasoned. Zoro chewed slowly and swallowed. "Uh, I'm not complaining or anything but is that all we're going to do? Because I don't really need someone to feed me."
Zoro felt a smooth hand run from his collarbone up his neck, then up to his chin and along his cheek. The fingers were cool, but he felt himself burning wherever they touched. Another hand rested gently on his knee, squeezing lightly as it moved up and down his leg. He could feel a pair of long, lean legs resting just above his own, and he could only imagine what kind of position the cook was taking right now. He groaned, trying to squint through the opaque fabric.
"Next dish," Sanji cooed, and Zoro licked his lips in anticipation. If only the cook wasn't so damned good at cooking then he wouldn't be so complacent.
It was a spoon this time, and the aroma of tomatoes and basil drifted towards Zoro's olfactory glands. He breathed in deeply and opened his mouth willingly. As the spoon went in, Zoro tasted tomato soup with some sort of cream sauce dribbled on it. He heard Sanji chuckle.
"If only you were that willing to open your mouth for me all the time, little marimo," Sanji chortled affectionately. Zoro felt something hot spill off the side of the spoon and run down his face. "Oh, it looks like you spilled a little. We can't let you sit there with soup running down your chin, can we?" Zoro shuddered as he felt something warm and moist run up his neck, lapping up the drops of soup that had trickled down. He bent his head forward to take the chef's mouth in a kiss but was disappointed when Sanji drew away.
"What the—"
"Dessert time!" Sanji said cheerfully. Zoro felt something cool pressed against his lips on a fork, and he obliged. Rich cheesecake, covered in raspberry sauce with a sweet crust. It was impossibly smooth and Zoro opened his mouth for more, almost pleading with his actions.
Zoro could have sworn he heard the bastard grin and could sense the fork being waved in front of his face with another morsel of cheesecake. He growled when he heard Sanji pop the fork in his mouth and practically moan in pleasure.
"Damn, I make a good cheesecake," Sanji said, swallowing the cake.
"Ero-cook, what the hell is the point of all of this?" Zoro asked impatiently. He shook his head, trying to get the blindfold off.
A slight sigh, low and breathy, tickled his ear. "Marimo, have you ever heard that when one of your senses is gone, that the others become much more acute? My theory is that when you can no longer see or move, then your sense of smell and taste become much stronger." He felt the warmth of the blond's body leave his, and the sound of plates being put in the sink. Again, those shiny leather shoes (for Sanji always kept them in impeccable condition) must have been coming closer, and he heard them stop just short of the chair.
Zoro heard a clicking sound and felt the bonds around his hands slacken. He pulled his arms out of the cuffs and tore off the blindfold, only to find that the kitchen was empty now. He looked around and saw that all that was left of their activities was an empty plate, with a few drops of raspberry sauce left on top.