A/N: A birthday fic for becausethereisonepiece on tumblr! Happy birthday wonderful friend!
It was pitch black under the blindfold. Zoro blinked, his eyelids fighting against the fabric in an instinctive attempt to see. The blindfold was perfect though, and Zoro was left in the dark, mostly uncertain about his surroundings.
What he did know were things he'd managed to detect through his other senses. His hands were tied together securely above him, and an experimental tug revealed them to be bound to something else as well. The sway of his limbs after this tug told him it was probably the ceiling or something similar. His feet were strapped down by the ankle, the bindings around them were something softer than the rope on his hands but no less secure, and the tugs he gave against them were useless.
A piece of fabric was tied tightly around his head and clenched securely between his teeth. His own bandana, he guessed, as the one he kept tied around his arm at all times wasn't there now. It effectively kept him from being able to speak but pulled just a little too hard on his lips, straining the corners to the point where it was uncomfortable.
He was naked…
The ring around the base of his cock kept him full and erect, and even the slightest movement of the air made him shiver. It was cool in the room, not cold, but not pleasantly warm like their living room had been.
"Comfortable, Marimo?" A familiar sultry voice hummed by his ear. It was deep and coarse, a voice that did things to Zoro without even trying, and it was even worse when it was trying.
In answer to the question, well, with the cold surface below him digging into his knees and the tightly bound ropes constraining his hands, this was not exactly what he'd call comfortable. Before he could voice his complaints (or at least attempt to from around his bandana) however, there was a sharp cracking sound followed immediately by a stinging pain on his hip.
"I asked a question," Sanji growled.
"No," Zoro said as best he could through the gag. It came out as an unintelligible grunt, but Sanji seemed to have understood anyway because a second later the stinging crack landed against his thigh.
"I'm sorry, what was that?"
Zoro glared in his direction, not that he was entirely sure which direction that was, and the glare really didn't have any effect under the blindfold anyway.
"Yes," Zoro grunted, the word again distorted around the bandana.
"Good," Sanji smiled, the gentle purr seeping back into his voice. "Good Marimo."
Zoro could feel the cook's fingers thread through his hair running down his scalp, scratching lightly behind his ears. He was being petted, he realized, like some kind of pet. The thought pissed him off. He was no one's lap dog. He growled deep in his throat, a warning sound he'd used often to warn Usopp out of his garage and Luffy away from his plate. He could be frightening when he wanted to be.
Sure enough, Zoro felt a sense of satisfaction as those nimble fingers left his head be. His victory was short lived though as the stinging sensation burned against the curve of his ass. The pain against his sensitive flesh caused him to cry out, a strangled shout beneath the gag. Leather met flesh once more, and Zoro grunted, tensing as the stinging line crossed over its predecessor and made the pain ache deeper.
"Just when I thought you were going to behave," Sanji sighed wistfully against his hear, his hot breath tickling against Zoro's skin, causing the swordsman to shiver.
"Behave," The blond warned, sliding his fingers back into Zoro's hair.
Zoro had half a mind to protest again, but he could feel the growing welts still burning on his skin, and really, what the cook was doing wasn't that bad. If felt kind of nice actually, the way those skillful fingers raked gently against his scalp. They scratched down the back of his head before wrapping themselves tightly around green strands, tugging backwards in one harsh yank.
Zoro hissed but made no other sound of protest. Sanji chuckled, a pleased sound, and released Zoro's hair.
"Good boy," Sanji murmured.
Zoro grunted as soft leather dragged gently against his cock, base to tip.
"You know, it's almost pathetic how turned on you are by this," Sanji mocked. The leather tapped lightly against the head of his erection, making Zoro twitch. "I knew you liked it rough, but I didn't know you liked it this rough."
The leather smacked against his inner thigh, burning his skin with the force of it. He shouted, a strained sound trapped in his mouth, and he could practically feel the cook's cocksure grin as the bastard's whip smacked against his chest this time.
The hit was lighter, but aimed directly onto the sensitive bud of his nipple, and he jerked with the sensation. Sanji seemed to particularly like that reaction, and the leather hit him again and again, increasingly harder with each snap. Zoro flinched and attempted to avoid the sensation. A small sound spilled out around the gag. He refused to admit it was a whine, but it was something near that range as he desperately struggled against the painful pleasure Sanji was torturing him with.
Having had enough with one nipple, Sanji started on the other, and the sensation began anew. Starting almost softly and working up to harsher slaps until Zoro made that same sound again. Sanji chuckled in satisfaction, and there was a light clattering noise before Zoro felt the warm feeling of Sanji's hands on his chest.
"They're hard," The cook commented. Zoro had to bite back the urge to scoff and say, 'no shit', and it was fortunate Sanji's fingers took that moment to roll across the buds of Zoro's nipples, thoroughly wiping his mind of all thoughts.
"And so sensitive."
Zoro growled again. Despite the fact that Zoro was somewhat interested in learning about the cook's sudden, unusual fetishes, Zoro wasn't sure he liked being toyed with. The shitty cook was obviously having too much fun humiliating Zoro, and while the swordsman enjoyed a good round of pain mixed with pleasure, he did not enjoy the degradation.
Sanji scoffed, pulling away. He wasn't gone long though, and when he returned again he brought the whip back, cracking it hard against Zoro's lower back. Zoro tensed in pain but remained silent, despite the fact that he felt as if his skin had been torn open. He didn't wait for Zoro to recover this time, nor was he going easy on the moss head. The whip slapped against Zoro's skin again, lower than the first strike but not by much, he could feel the pain doubled as the two hits combined. A hiss of pain left his lips, nothing more.
Sanji continued his assault, hitting Zoro wherever he saw fit; against his chest, across his ass, down his back, around his tensing thighs, Sanji lit Zoro's skin ablaze with pain. Zoro kept quiet, only the occasional pained grunt escaping him. He'd experienced worse pain before, he could handle anything the shit cook could dish out.
The blond didn't hold back, and on the final strike he crossed with several of his previous marks. Zoro couldn't stop the first genuine shout of pain as he strained against the bindings around his wrists and legs.
The whipping stopped. There was a moment of stillness that Zoro used to catch his breath. His body ached and burned, he couldn't even make out the individual sensations of pain anymore, everything blurred together into one collective pain.
"Are you going to apologize, Marimo?" Sanji asked. He sounded winded, though he couldn't have been working that hard to abuse Zoro. It was arousal, the swordsman realized, the shitty love cook was turned on by Zoro's pain.
The idea did things to Zoro. Did this happen often? When they fought and Sanji got in a lucky blow, was the cook secretly turned on by Zoro's cursing in pain? That thought was…intriguing.
"I said," Sanji gripped Zoro's hair again. There was no pretense of gentleness this time though, as he yanked it and forced Zoro's head back. "Are you going to apologize?"
"I'm sorry," Zoro spoke through gritted teeth. He didn't want to, but he had a new found interest in the matter. He wasn't keen about the idea of being humiliated, but he was dying to know just how all of this was affecting Sanji.
The feeling of Sanji's teeth scraping along the column of his neck made the swordsman groan in appreciation. Sanji's tongue tasted his skin, played along the flesh of Zoro's throat and down towards his chest. He licked lightly at a stinging welt.
Zoro hissed as Sanji's clever tongue played along his sore skin, but the cooling feeling of the cook's saliva as it dried on his skin was almost soothing. Sanji traced the line of the welt across Zoro's chest with gentle kisses and presses of his tongue.
He pulled away, and Zoro sighed at the loss.
"Good boy," Sanji murmured. "You're going to like the special treat I have for you next."
Sanji stepped away, and there was another noise to Zoro's left. The sound of metal moving against metal could be heard for a moment before the room was quiet once again.
Zoro felt something cool press against the line of his spine. The touch was nothing he immediately recognized; something solid and unyielding, metal perhaps. It wasn't until Sanji moved the object, sliding it down Zoro's back, that Zoro realized what it was.
"I'm not going to cut you yet," Sanji assured him, working the blade down to the top of Zoro's ass, gently sliding the pointed edge along one of the mounds of muscle. "But I'm not going to tell you before I do."
Zoro shuddered as he felt the metal trace along the crack of his ass before moving to the other side of his body, gliding over the ridges of his muscles. Knives (as Zoro assumed it was) were definitely Zoro's thing. He was no stranger to the stinging pain of cuts sliced into him by blades, it was familiar territory. The feel of metal against his skin, biting into the flesh as Sanji dragged the edge along his hip, reminded him of battle. The thought of battle got his blood pumping.
"I knew you'd love this," Sanji chucked. Zoro felt the flat of the blade circle around his ribs before the point traced the shape of his abs. "You're such a sword freak."
Zoro groaned as the knife sank into the skin just above his navel. It stung and burned the way only a well-cared for blade would. A clean, easy slice. The idea of Sanji taking his time to sharpen and maintain the knife he was now using to delicately carve Zoro's body was more erotic to Zoro than anything.
Sanji touched the knife to Zoro's erection, rubbing the flat of it against the head where precome was pooling.
"You're wet," Sanji sounded like he was biting back a groan. "I knew you'd love this."
Zoro panted, hissing when Sanji moved the knife down along his shaft. The cook was so careful, and just the danger was only egging Zoro on further.
"I want to fuck you," Sanji confessed in a harsh whisper.
The knife was cast aside easily, and Zoro felt the heat of another body behind him. Familiar hands reached around from behind him, eagerly exploring the expanse of muscles in their reach. They dragged against open cuts and sore wounds but their familiar touch brought pleasure out of the pain. Hot lips worked against the back of his neck and shoulders; sucking, licking, the occasional bite, all helping to fuel the flames of his arousal. The hard cock rocking against the cleft of his ass left him wanting more.
Zoro tilted his hips back, forcing himself back against Sanji, hoping the cook would get the idea. Fortunately, Sanji's domineering attitude seemed to have taken a backseat to his current lust, and after only stopping long enough to apply some lube, he granted Zoro's wish, guiding himself into the heat of the swordsman's body.
"Shit," Sanji cursed, thrusting lightly, slowly, more for his benefits than Zoro's. Zoro could take it.
It took a few seconds for Sanji to adjust, or rather, to be able to move without threatening to come right then and there. He pulled out slowly before rolling his hips and sliding back into Zoro. The swordsman groaned appreciatively at the action. It felt relieving to be filled this way, his body was nearly trembling with sensory overload.
Sanji continued to rock into him, his hands tight on Zoro's hips, pulling the swordsman's body back to meet his with every thrust. Zoro bounced back against him willingly, impaling himself on Sanji's cock in a desperate search for release.
Zoro could feel his cock bounce with each roll of their bodies. He was so hard and full, and he could feel the wetness leaking from his cock when it bounced against his stomach. He was desperate for Sanji's hands on him, or hell, even his own hand would work if he had one freed, but the cook's hands remained stubbornly still on his hips.
Zoro needed release so badly it hurt, and he lost rhythm in the blinding desire for it. Sanji noticed his faltering and pushed through it, thrusting deeper and harder inside of him. He recognized the need though, and with the heat building in his own gut, he sympathized with Zoro's needs.
A skillful hand wrapped around Zoro's erection in a tight grip, and Zoro voiced his approval as best he could around the bandana in his mouth. It only took a few firm pumps to send Zoro over the edge, shouting words that lost their meaning in his bliss. He was only dimly aware of Sanji's pulsing inside of him, still lost in the high of his own orgasm, waves of pleasure threatening to drown him.
His body started to feel heavy and unresponsive, and his senses dulled and fading. He tried desperately to hold on to consciousness, but it faded fast until he lost it all together.
Sanji stared curiously down at Zoro next to him in the bed. The swordsman had been restless, waking Sanji up with his constant tossing and turning. Sanji had been watching him for some time now, listening as the swordsman's breath hitched and small moans forced themselves out of tightly closed lips. His body twitched occasionally, and he was rock hard beneath the sheets.
It was a few minutes later a loud gasp was followed by a satisfied moan as Zoro's hand moved to palm himself in his sleep. Sanji watched with some disgust as his clean linen sheets became stained with the results of Zoro's dream.
Sanji thought to wake him up, but he was too tired to deal with the resulting fallout. Besides, it would serve the bastard right to have to sleep in his own spunk. Instead the cook grabbed his pillow and a spare blanket from the closet and moved out onto the couch.
Whatever the hell kind of dream Zoro had been having, Sanji hoped it was worth it.