"Strong Enough" is playing on the playlist, which explains the weird title.
Standard disclaimers apply. (heck if I owned One Piece, I'd have a whole arc dedicated to Zoro and Sanji's love life… then the series would have to be labeled 'BL' instead of 'shounen' xD)
Oh, and yaoi warnings.
Don't like, don't read.
I am not your mother/caretaker. Don't blame me for exposing your 'innocent' little mind to the realities of the world.
Zoro: hn. brat.
neko: of course ♥
Sanji: -sniggers-
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Lie to Me
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It had been six days since they'd left the last island they'd docked on Grand Line for supplies. Six days since Sanji's world started—no, had—crumbled, so disastrously so that he had volunteered for every goddamned midnight watch.
The Mugiwara cook leaned back against the crow's nest, puffing away in between muttered curses and the occasional agitated run of fingers through blonde hair. If only he could scream his head off! But noo they were out at sea and doing so in the middle of the night would just earn him angry glares and death threats (if not broken bones).
Sanji sighed again. This wasn't doing him any good. He hated thinking too deeply—he firmly believed that he was not brooding in any way. He was fine with just the smoke.
Yeah. That's it. Concentrate on the smoke; the slow spiral of gray coiling ever upward, fading then disappearing as though it was never there. He could pretend that the thin haze could hide him, blur him from the world, just like the haze of cigarettes and pub lights on that island; the dim glow and shadows playing on the muscled form of his drinking partner…
Shit.
He did it again. And how the hell did his favorite vice turn into an associative freefall for unwanted reminiscing anyway?!
Sanji shook his head, as though he could shake away the onset of images and fleeting touches playing like a slow, taunting slide show in his head. He took another drag of his cigarette, noticing that it was almost at its end. The annoyed cook didn't bother stubbing it out on the railing like he always did, and just flicked it into the ocean below, falling in a graceful glow-y arc as he lighted another—the blur of orange triggering images of unfocused street lights over a broad shoulder as he was kissed roughly and shoved against a back alley wall—
If Sanji could bang his head against the mast without waking the whole crew he would. But since he couldn't, he just resorted to gripping the edge of the crow's nest's railing, nails scraping at wood and knuckles turning white. Why, oh why did his last night of fun at the island end that way? And why oh why did it have to be with the muscle-brained marimo?
The blonde cook dropped his head on his arms, his half-finished cigarette hanging precariously between limp fingers. He sighed. It wasn't that the sex was bad, no, it was fucking mind-blowingly awesome. It was just that the mind-blowing sex that had happened was because he was mind-numbingly drunk. With the marimo no less.
It was just not fair. If the cook had ever entertained any thoughts of having 'mind-blowing sex down a dark alley' it was with a very pretty, very willing lady and not with a shit-for-brains swordsman. And he would be the one doing the thrusting, not the wanton moaning.
Sanji shook his head again. No.
Nononononono. NO.
Must. Not. Go. There.
He did not moan.
No he did not—not wantonly, at least.
Sanji stared blankly at the glowing end of his half-finished cig,
Well, maybe he did. But he was not about to vocally admit to it. (No pun intended.) And that wasn't even the problem here. The problem was that Zoro—marimo bastard that he was—had not said anything about their little encounter since they'd left (woke up, which ever came first, since he had not stayed to find out the state of things after the swordsman had passed out on him, leaving him very sated, very sober, and very shocked—Sanji did, however, have the decency to zip the idiot's pants up for him before he bolted back to the ship. What? So he was a gentleman even after getting raped.)
Ravished, a little voice in his head corrected. Rape is when the other party is unwilling.
Sanji groaned inwardly. He was unwilling damnit! Up until the part where he had licked (and nipped) at the back of your ear… or maybe before that, when his tongue swiped at the roof of your mouth making you shudder…
Sanji hated the little voice in his head.
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How many years since I wrote anything? –counts- six years? Oo
My god that felt strange. Oo
The only series I was comfortable at writing the charas was Gundam Wing… and snippets of Naruto… lol
So tell me, do I still have what it takes? I know the style has changed somewhat, tho I can't put my finger on what tho…maybe I sound less 'dreamy-float-y' now? (I miss being dreamy-float-y tho TT and no, I don't take drugs -swt- )
Oh, and "Don't Say You Love Me" is playing now… god I love my jinx! xD
(neko's jinx: if the radio/player is on, when I am paying attention the least to it, it will play a song that matches what ever I am reading/writing at the moment xD すごいね?)