Title: Replacement
Rating: M
Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece.
Spoiler warning: Takes place post time-skip.
It was the first time he had truly lost control of his desire.
Sure, there had been a few times when Sanji had gone overboard with his flirting and courting. Not to mention, he often pursued certain women until they were quite tired of him bothering them. And in his darkest moments, there may have been been a time or two when he not-so-subtlety approached a woman to smell her (but to give him credit, that had been right after he had spent two years in his own personal hell).
But he couldn't really think of a time when he had lost control and just succumbed to every carnal desire struggling to burst out of him. Even if she was willing, even if they were in the heat of the moment together, he had always tightly held the reins of his passion, to make sure that his desire did not gallop out of control.
Sanji and Zoro weren't really trying to get in a fight with anyone; they just needed to get back to the ship and rejoin the others. The fastest way to do that was to climb over a rocky, steep hill, and when they descended on the other side below, they would be at the water's edge. It was either that, or circle the hill through an incredibly dense forest. The hill seemed like the easier way; they didn't mind a climb, even if it was a bit steep.
They happened to stumble onto what was undoubtedly someone's private property. But all they wanted to do was pass through it; the two men had no qualms with the oversized man who careened out of his rickety cabin, meaty fists raised, hollering and cursing at the top of his lungs. The cook and the swordsman would have been quite satisfied with just being able to apologize for trespassing, and then continuing on their way. However, the enormous man would have none of their apologies or excuses; and so, a very needless skirmish broke out.
"This is such a pain," Sanji growled lowly, cigarette loosely hanging from his lips.
Sanji hated participating in fights like this—fights with enemies so weak, the outcome wasn't even the slightest bit in question—and he hated it even more when he was in one of these fights beside Zoro. Since the opponent wasn't particularly challenging, they had no need to coordinate with each other, so they wound up wasting more time bickering than actively disabling their assailant.
"Quit bumping into me, shit-cook," Zoro warned through teeth clenched around his sword.
"It sure as hell isn't intentional," Sanji spat back, as he and the swordsman took turns trading half-hearted blows with their attacker. "It's just hard to move around on this shitty hill." It wasn't a lie; the steep terrain was making it hard to get good footing. His fury incrementally increased as the fight continued.
"Tch, then you should stand back," Zoro said.
"What's that supposed to mean, shitty swordsman?" Sanji asked, his eyes narrowing.
"Because, if you're too weak to take on the hill and this guy at the same time, you'll just be in the way," Zoro taunted.
"Oi, marimo, I'll make it clear so your idiot brain can understand it. I could be standing on the side of a damned wall and I could still beat I can beat you and him—" Sanji started; but he never got to finish his sentence.
Unexpectedly, the mammoth-like man accomplished a feat of strength that Sanji had not expected, and both he and Zoro were violently thrown backwards. It wasn't a devastating blow, but it did knock them off of the edge of the path ascending the precipitous hill. Unable to regain their footing, the pair tumbled downward, neither man able to get a good grip on anything to stall them as their bodies gained momentum.
When it was obvious that there was nothing solid enough for them to latch onto, Sanji instinctively grabbed the other man. Actually, it may have been the other way around, and Zoro had grabbed him first, but either way, as some point Sanji realized they had firmly grasped one another's arms. As uncomfortable as it was, it was huge relief, as getting separated would have been beyond inconvenient.
They tumbled into each other a few times, but it Sanji didn't have time to think about it too much. That was, until at some point during their plunge, a stray elbow from the swordsman hit him in the sternum, knocking the wind out of him. Finally, they reached the bottom, and their bodies stopped rolling just as they were barely inside of the edge of a particularly dense forest.
"Stupid, shitty hill," Sanji managed to gasp, after landing on his front, laying motionless for a few moments as he struggled to catch his breath.
As he felt a slight movement between his legs, he gasped a second time; only this time, it was for a very different reason. Suddenly, he took note of how they had landed: the cook was face-first on top of Zoro, his hand and a cheek pressed against the swordsman's exposed chest. His knees were on either side of Zoro's right leg, and the other man's arm was pinned there as well. The unexpected sensation near his groin, which had made Sanji gasp, was undoubtedly the swordsman's hand.
Sanji's mind reeled. This was not the kind of situation in which he should be able to get excited at all, but for some reason, he felt a hot flush across his pelvis.
Still panting, he sat up slightly, peeling his face away from the other man's chest, and glanced down. The top part of Zoro's clothes had been pulled back, completely exposing his chest and shoulders. His cheeks were slightly flushed—probably from the exertion of the fight followed by the tumble down the hill—and there was a bead of sweat at his hairline, threatening to drip down his face at any moment.
For some reason, Sanji felt the hot flush increase, and he felt a drop of sweat form at his own forehead. What the hell was wrong with him? He sure as hell shouldn't have that kind of reaction while looking at a shitty marimo.
"Why the hell are you always shirtless?!" Sanji hissed, abruptly pushing his body further upward, so his torso wasn't directly pressed against Zoro's body.
Zoro scowled at him. "Why don't you get off of me before you start complaining about—"
An uncontrollable gasp, considerably louder than the previous one, cut the swordsman short. As Zoro had started to speak, he had tried to pull his hand free once again, and this time, it hit Sanji in a way that felt a little too right.
The cook's gasp was loud, passionate, and completely embarrassing. For a second, his arms felt momentarily depleted of strength, and he fell back down on Zoro.
Ba-dump.
Once again, he wondered what the hell was wrong with him; the skip in his chest wasn't what he expected in this situation. And then, his heart began to beat erratically out of control. He peeled his face away from Zoro's exposed chest once again, this time pausing to look at him, their faces startlingly close.
"Oi... I'm just trying to get my hand free," Zoro said, his tone a bit alarmed. But the look on his face was one of wonder, like he had just seen something incredible for the first time.
"I know, it's just—" Sanji started.
And then, the hand moved again, ever so slightly, cutting Sanji off. He drew in a sharp breath, and tried his best to hold back any other sounds; it came out as a sort of strangled whimper.
"Are you really that sensitive there, ero-cook?" Zoro asked, raising his eyebrow.
"You just keep hitting a certain spot!" Sanji protested, his cheeks reddening slightly. And what the hell kind of reaction is that, he wanted to scream at Zoro, but he was too afraid to speak. He wasn't sure what his voice might do.
As the strong hand moved again, the cook realized that this time, its movements were a bit more intentional. Fingers reached forward, stroking purposefully, deliberating.
"What the hell are you doing, marimo?" he yelped, his heart beginning to race out of control.
The cook knew he should pull away—and yet he really didn't want to because it felt really damn good.
Sanji was very conscious of how heavily he was breathing, and how flushed his face felt. He was also very aware of just what a fucked up predicament this was—he, staring down at Zoro, an inexplicable wave of longing that he couldn't quite comprehend surging through him. And the swordsman, with his sturdy fingers diligently stroking through Sanji's pants, was looking up at him with a puzzlingly lustful gaze.
It didn't make any sense and it was going to make even less sense when he thought about it a bit more clearly. Sure, he couldn't concentrate very well when those stupidly nimble fingers were hitting all the right places but he knew, at the very least, he could be very upset with himself for this later. There's no way he should be turned on by those rough, mannish hands touching him there, or the feeling of the brawny chest underneath his fingers—the chest that, for some reason, he couldn't stop stroking right now.
The urge was getting stronger than stronger, blindingly bright, an itch that he wanted to scratch more than anything else he could imagine at that moment.
Oh, fuck it, the cook thought finally; in the battle between his judgment and his desire, it was already clear he was going to make a huge fucking mistake anyway, so there was no point in fighting back any longer. In the next moment, Sanji leaned downward, crushing his mouth against the swordsman's.
It was greedy and desperate. The swordsman's kiss was rough and left him breathless; it was dominating and competitive, and Sanji felt like it took every ounce of his concentration just to fight back.
The hand crept inside of his pants. His own hands pulled off Zoro's loose-fitting garments, exposing even more of his skin. An impossibly hard grip seized his already aching erection, and he let out a cry that could have probably been heard for quite a distance.
"That guy isn't coming after us," Sanji murmured suddenly, realizing he had not even given the enemy they had been fighting another thought once he had found his hands on Zoro's bare skin.
"No shit, ero-cook," Zoro replied, his lips against Sanji's neck. He sank his teeth into the sensitive skin aggressively.
And that was all the thought they gave the burly man who had shoved them off the side of the mountain.
Sanji inhaled sharply again, digging his fingernails into Zoro's shoulders. "Fuck off, shitty swordsman, I'm a little distracted right now."
Lips made their way up to Sanji's ear. "Grab me," the swordsman rumbling lowly, threateningly.
"Why should I do what you tell me, marimo," Sanji replied in breathless defiance, but in fact, he did do exactly as he was told. He'd honestly never grabbed another dick besides his own, so he was surprised that it felt so different, even if the differences in size were only marginal.
He was a bit stunned to discover that this observation was really fucking exciting. Fingertips fervently traced the details, noticing the smoothness of the skin, the difference in the shapes and curves... And then suddenly, he clamped down firmly, in a way he knew from years of personal experience would cause a surge of pleasure.
The swordsman's moan seemed to vibrate through Sanji's body; a chill ran down his spine, making him want more skin, more touching. Just more. It was a lecherous hunger that possessed him, overtaking all of his common sense.
It was the first time he had truly lost control of his desire. He wondered if that was the case for Zoro, too; after all, he had never imagined the swordsman would have such a vigorous sexual appetite.
It was the first time he had slept with someone more than a couple of times.
It had never bothered Sanji that he never seemed to have a lasting physical relationship with anyone. After all, he had never really lived a lifestyle where it was convenient to do that. At Baratie, most of the customers were travelers, and even if they came in frequently, it wasn't like they lived a short distance away so Sanji could go shack up with them at night. He may have fallen deeply in love—but he did that every day. So if they got just a few hours in each other's arms, that was more than he could have hoped for. And then, she would be gone, and he would find a new lover to replace her, the next momentary companion.
But this... This was certainly something new. He and Zoro had been fucking on a regular basis. (He normally hated using such a crass term for it, but that's all he was willing to call it.) Unlike his beautiful maidens with whom he had been able to share one or two enchanting evenings of sweet lovemaking, with the swordsman, it was rough and gritty. There was no glamor, no romance, nothing but the two of them desperately seeking release.
And shit, it was more satisfying that Sanji wanted to admit. Maybe it was because they were both men, but Zoro knew exactly what to do to leave Sanji feeling practically ill with lust. Even if he wasn't particularly enthralled with Zoro himself, he was fucking amazed by hard he could make him come. Not to mention that, for some reason, it seemed to get increasingly more pleasurable, the more they did it. He abhorred the idea of the swordsman getting to know his body, but he wasn't exactly sure how else to consider it.
There wasn't even need for appropriate timing or place, either. If one of them felt in the mood for it, the other was sure to follow suit.
As if to prove his point, a powerful hand suddenly reached out, snatching Sanji's arm as he exited the library.
"Oi, where are you going?" Zoro asked. Sanji turned to make eye contact with him... The intensity of his gaze was impossible to misinterpret.
"I was going to see if Robin-chan wanted more tea, but it looks like she may have left."
"So there's no one in there?" he inquired, nodding in the direction of the library door, his keen gaze—and his hand—never once stripping away from Sanji's body.
"No, I didn't see anyone," Sanji replied, inhaling sharply; he was already feeling the tinge of longing overtaking him, too, even with just this sultry look fixed on him. It was as stupid as it was impossible to ignore.
With an affirmative nod, the grip on Sanji's arm tightened, and the green-haired man forcibly yanked him into the large room.
"Here?" Sanji asked, surprising himself with how devoid of surprise his voice was.
"What do you think," Zoro said gruffly, pressing his mouth again Sanji's before the cook could get in another word.
But Sanji didn't give a shit at that point; he was already as ready to go as Zoro, and as long as they locked the door and kept away from windows, there wasn't a whole lot to worry about.
It was the first time he had had sex with the same person more than a couple of times. Sanji was a little bit irritated when he realized it might have made it the most regular relationship he had ever had—but it's not like it was anything beyond sexual release, so he couldn't really think of a good reason to put an end to it. It's not like he was doing anything (or anyone) better.
It was the first time he had watched Zoro work out.
Of course, he had seen him work out hundreds, maybe even thousands of times before. It seemed like whenever the swordsman had an idle moment, he was either napping or lifting ridiculously heavy objects. He often brought weights and barbels down to the deck, if he didn't lock himself away in the Crow's Nest. Sometimes, he didn't even bother with fitness equipment—he just began to lift whatever shit was lying around him, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Sanji had seen the other man work out over and over, but it was the first time he had really watched it.
They were alone in the Crow's Nest. Sanji was vaguely surprised he had actually fallen asleep, but he was even more taken aback that the swordsman hadn't. Zoro usually had no trouble passing out. It seemed to follow that he would have conked right out after all the things they had done, but for some reason, instead, he was sitting down, doing concentration curls with an impossibly oversized barbel.
Sanji wasn't exactly sure why he was studying him so hard. Maybe it was because his mind was still brimming with lewd thoughts—because he could still taste the salt from the other man's sweat on his lips; still smell the sex lingering in the air.
He has seen Zoro do this same exercise time and time again, but he had never really noticed the way sinewy muscles coiled as he lifted the weights upward, again and again. Or the way his brow started to crinkle more and more as the repetitions became more strenuous; and shortly thereafter, the swordsman started to gnaw on his lower lip slightly.
The cook felt the heat begin to stir in his groin again. He couldn't help but stare at that lower lip, getting bitten again and again. He couldn't help but want to bite it, too.
He could see sweat glistening on Zoro's body. A part of his brain told him it should have been an unsightly thing, but for some reason, he felt himself getting increasingly turned on, like the wet glow was an irresistible aphrodisiac that he just couldn't ignore. He knew what it felt like to have that slick body sliding against him, and he liked it. He wanted it.
And then, he couldn't take it anymore. An animalistic instinct took over, and before he could think better of it, the cook sprang to his feet and lunged toward the swordsman.
Even if they had already done it, this appetite could not be ignored. But even as he closed the distance between them, not even the slightest flicker of surprise shown in the swordsman's eye. He simply dropped the barbel and focus his attention on the cook whose mouth was already pressed against his own. Sanji felt a tingle of lust and excitement as he bit the lip that he had so fervidly coveted just a moment before.
It was the first time Sanji had really paid attention to Zoro working out... And it was the first time he admitted to himself just how much another man could turn him on.
It was the first time he had made plans with the swordsman.
He wasn't exactly sure how it had happened. The island they were at was filled with natural hot springs, so there were more onsens than just about anything else. But somehow, despite their passive aggressive hints and endless bickering, they really had snuck away from the rest of the crew to get a room boasting its own private spring, the perfect size for two.
The room was clearly meant for a romantic getaway, and Sanji couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to bring a woman there. He could just imagine her—whoever "her" referred to—gushing over the scented bubbles and toiletries, the silky-soft robes and the delicious sweets laid out on the table to welcome guests. He could picture lighting the various candles around the room, and turning off all the lights while they made love to a romantic glow. It would surely be straight out of any woman's fantasy, and Sanji was more than confident that he could prove to be her prince in such a setting.
He glanced over at the swordsman. It was clear that Zoro wasn't taken in by the fancy embellishments and lovely little extras. Barely bothering to glance at the room, he started to disrobe as he headed toward the shower.
"You coming or what?" Zoro called over as he turned on the water.
"We've been here two minutes and you're already going to the bath?" Sanji replied, taking a long drag from his cigarette.
"It's an onsen, what else am I supposed to do?" Zoro replied.
"Most people would take a little bit of time to check out the room they're staying in."
"What's there to look at? It's a room," Zoro replied brusquely.
"Just give me a damn minute, then," Sanji replied with a sigh, glancing around the room in search of an ashtray. Finally, he spotted one, and smushed his cigarette butt the center of it.
Of course it'd be heart-shaped, he thought to himself, as he started to unbutton the front of his shirt.
"We can do it first, if you'd prefer," Zoro said, his voice suddenly startlingly close to Sanji's ear. A chill ran down his spine; something a little hotter surged through his groin.
Scowling, Sanji turned around and shoved him away. The other man was completely nude, his muscular body dripping with water. "Hurry up and get in the bath, shitty swordsman," Sanji barked.
"Tch, fine," Zoro replied, shrugging indifferently as he turned around and headed toward the spring.
As Sanji reached the shower, he breathed a slow sigh of relief as he realized just how much less he had to worry about, going to a place like this with Zoro instead of with a woman. The swordsman didn't need any wooing or excessive compliments; he didn't need to be made to feel special or desired; and he sure as hell didn't want to have someone make him feel pretty.
Even if Sanji didn't show up the slightest hint of pleasure at their carnal endeavors, he was pretty sure Zoro wouldn't have been disappointed. But there was no way to tell for sure, because Sanji had never been able to hold back his expressions of satisfaction; there was no way in hell he could, when the swordsman was doing everything so damn right.
It was the first time he and Zoro had made plans to do something alone together. There was no way it was a date; but even though it was utterly devoid of romance, Sanji felt if it had been a date, he would have probably considered it a success.
It was the first time Sanji felt that kind of emotion.
He wasn't even sure what it was. Fear, hysteria, jealousy... Any word that came to mind was ridiculous.
And whatever it was, it was stupid, unjustified, and inexplicable. He didn't understand it; he was in no danger, and no one around him was in danger. There was no reason he should care about this, or be affected in any way.
Any word that he could think of to describe it was ridiculous... But nevertheless, there it was, in big, bold letters, fluttering across his consciousness, impossible to ignore.
Clapping a hand to his mouth, he ducked against the wall so that he was no longer visible through the doorway to the men's quarters.
What the fuck was going on?
Unnerved, he forced himself to take in big gulps of air. He had been walking down the hallway, and as he drew nearer to the men's quarters, he had noticed he could see Zoro and Luffy standing at the far end of the room. At first, he had thought nothing of it; the two men were standing and facing each other, and it just looked like they were just having a conversation.
But as he got closer and the details became clearer, he could see that Zoro had his arms crossed and his expression was grim. Meanwhile, Luffy's hands were clenched in tight fists, and he stared at the ground intensely.
Sanji's footsteps slowed. It looked like they were arguing. He wasn't sure if he should step in if there was something going on. Maybe it would be best for him to hang back for a moment until he could figure it out. Struggling to make out anything at all, he could just barely hear strained voices, but he couldn't catch any words.
Then Zoro's voice boomed a little bit louder, and Luffy shouted something back at him, his shrill voice loud enough to make Sanji cringe. It sounded something like "What am I supposed to do then, Zoro?" but he wasn't positive.
The swordsman bellowed something in reply—again, completely inaudible—and suddenly Luffy was clutching the front of Zoro's shirt, looking more pained than angry. Meaning, the swordsman was incrementally closing the distance, with a look in his eye that Sanji had seen too many times to mistake.
Sanji's heart jerked violently; he already knew what would happen next.
Zoro and Luffy's lips crushed together in a maddeningly feverish kiss. The pirate captain was awkward and graceless, but the swordsman's skillful mouth quickly began to guide him through the motions.
Sanji felt the cigarette in his mouth tumble to the floor as his jaw dropped, but he could not fucking care less about it. He mindlessly brought his foot forward to crush down on the cigarette, stamping out the smoldering stick, his eyes still locked on the unfathomable scene before him.
A million thoughts trampled Sanji's consciousness; thoughts of Zoro and Luffy, and the sort of loyal connection they shared that often seemed to outshine any other connections among the crew. Sanji had always thought it was because Zoro was the first crew member; Luffy's first nakama.
But what the hell was this.
It was all he could do but stare in awe. He felt very disconnected, watching Zoro fervently kiss the captain, hungry lips crushing against him. Sanji was so familiar with this lips; he knew exactly what those strong hands clutching at Luffy's shoulders felt like. He could imagine what that dominating tongue was doing inside of Luffy's mouth right now. As Zoro pressed in closer, Sanji knew exactly what Zoro was going to do next.
Except after a few seconds—that was probably about all the time that had elapsed, even if Sanji felt like he hadn't been able to breath for ages now—Luffy stopped moving. His hands, once again clutched into fists, began to tremble violently. Realizing his partner was no longer responding, Zoro pulled back, a pained expression on his face.
Luffy shouted something at Zoro; Sanji was pretty sure he should have been able to make out whatever it was, but the blood roaring in his ears was making it a little difficult to hear any sounds around him, let alone make out the syllables.
Even more perplexing, Sanji was trying to figure out why the hell he was hyperventilating, and how long he could hold back his panicked breath before someone heard him. He slipped further down the hallway, stealing away to another corridor, sinking down into a sitting positive as he tucked away in the cover of the shadows.
Then he heard the violent sound of splintering wood, and a moment later, Luffy stormed out of the men's quarters. Eyes enshrouded in darkness, the captain disappeared in the opposite direction of where Sanji was crouched.
A long silence followed. Luffy was long gone, and now, it was so quiet Sanji could hear his pounding heart; the echo sounded deafening to his ears.
Then Sanji heard something else breaking; this time, it was accompanied by a low shout of frustration.
A moment later, Zoro took a heavy step out of the room, heading in the opposite direction of Luffy—right toward the cook. Sanji tried his best to shrink his body even further out of sight, but the swordsman noticed him instantly.
An eye filled with rage fixed on him for a moment. Then the green-haired men lunged at him, grasping the front of his shirt and effortlessly lifting him in the air and slamming him against the wall.
"Nothing happened," he croaked, unable to make eye contact with the cook even as he pinned him against the wood.
"The hell it didn't, shitty marimo," his managed to get out, despite the wind being knocked out of him.
The grip relaxed slightly, and Sanji's body slid down the wall until his feet touched the floor. Then without a word, Zoro let go of him and stormed away.
"Oi—" he started to shout, but Zoro spun around and gave him a look that was so easy to read, he nearly let a strangled cry slip out of his throat.
Then he sat on the floor again, overwhelmed by the emotion ripping apart his chest. He had never experienced anything like it before. He wasn't sure if it was hurt or jealousy or something he couldn't even think of a word for, but all he knew was that it made no fucking sense.
It was the first time Sanji had ever felt a fear like that before—the fear of being replaced. Or maybe worse still, the fear that he himself was actually the substitute; maybe all along, he had never been in a position to be replaced in the first place.
It was the first time Sanji realized he had feelings for Zoro.
The swordsman didn't seek him out anymore—and Sanji was too confused to go to him, after he had seen that private moment between Zoro and Luffy.
But now that he had seen it, Sanji couldn't mistake it; the bond between the swordsman and his captain was something far more complicated than just the swordsman being his first nakama. It was complex and incomprehensible to him, but even if he couldn't understand it, he couldn't deny it.
Most of the time, the cook felt he didn't want to disturb that connection; who was he to step in and trample all over such a precious bond?
Yet a selfish part of him was often overcome with detestable jealously, and at the worst moments, he started to feel like he had been wronged or betrayed.
Logically, he knew it was unreasonable. It's not like Zoro said it was anything other than sex; and at the time, Sanji had thought that was all it was, too.
But at some point, it had morphed and changed into something that Sanji looked forward to. Even without speaking, he felt like when they were joined together, they understood each other. Beyond the passion, he valued those unspoken exchanges. And it occurred so regularly, as well; he had gotten to know the swordsman's body more intimately than anyone else, and the more he got to know, the more he wanted it.
He didn't realize this was what his terrible, twisted feelings were turning into. He didn't want to think about it. But one day, he couldn't ignore it any longer.
It was first time Sanji realized he had feelings for Zoro.
And out of all the unattainable and out-of-reach women he had ever fallen for, he had never felt like any other person was so far out of his grasp.
It was the last time Sanji let those kinds of emotions sneak up on him.
As the years passed, whatever delicate and intangible thing that had started to bud between Zoro and Luffy never bore fruit. It was just a mess of frustration and unspoken emotions, and it never moved beyond a few awkward moments. It was excruciating to watch... And Sanji was pretty sure that the anguish of it all affected him just as much as it did them.
Sanji berated himself endlessly for letting himself develop feelings for someone like Zoro. It was a huge mistake, but he had learned his lesson. And he was pretty damn sure he couldn't handle suffering through it a second time. It was one thing to fall in love-at-first-sight with a beautiful woman, but he couldn't take his heart being torn to shreds like that again. And to think, it was over someone like the shitty marimo.
It was the very last time Sanji would ever let himself feel that way about anyone; he would stake his very life on it.