Chapter Two
Malevolent Lover
You'll never make me stay, so take your weight off of me
I know your every move, so won't you just let me be
I've been here times before, but I was to blind to see
That you seduce every man, this time you won't seduce me
She's saying that's ok, hey baby do what you please
I have the stuff the you want, I am the thing that you need
She looked me deep in the eyes, she's touchin' me so to start
She says there's no turnin' back, she trapped me in her heart
She likes the boys in the band, she knows when they come to town
Every musician's fan after thecurtain comes down
She waits at backstage doors for those who have prestige
Who promise fortune and fame, a life that's so carefree
She's says that's ok, hey baby do what you want
I'll be your night lovin' thing, I'll be the freak you can taunt
And I don't care what you say, I want to go too far
I'll be your everything if you make me a star
-"Dirty Diana", Michael Jackson
~0~
If the green-haired man-Zoro, Sanji reminded himself, get in the habit of calling him Zoro-heard him step outside, he gave no sign, only continued to gaze up at the stars, his back to him. Though Sanji thought he detected a sort of delicate tenseness in the shoulderblades which seemed unnatural.
He wasted no time, a moment of indecision could ruin everything or kill him. It was something he had learned early in this trade. Sanji walked softly up to the man at the balcony, not bothering to hide his footsteps, leaned his back against the railing right next to the man-Zoro; and trained his eyes on the other man's face.
Zoro gave no sign to show that he was aware that he was no longer alone, though Sanji, with a species of amusement, noticed the knuckles on the banister turn white.
"Beautiful night," he commented, though he made no attempt to look out into the night.
"Y-" Zoro coughed, clearing his throat, "Yeah, yeah it is." He didn't look at Sanji.
It was funny, considering how he observed this man for months already, that these were the first words he was finally exchanging with his newest victim. It was funny how much he knew about this man already and they hadn't even spoken. But then again, Zoro probably knew as much about himself then he knew about him. The only difference was that of all the things Zoro might have found out about Sanji- they were all lies.
Sanji began to unbutton his shirt slowly, thinking about how easy it was becoming to strip himself, the sounds of the metal buttons slipping out of their loops were inaudible, though the movements quickly brought the green-haired man's attention.
"W-What the hell are you doing?" Zoro's voice was wary, embarrassed, nervous, guilty, knowing. Every nuance of his voice assured Sanji that he had been right in choosing the time in starting. The eyes of the other man were wide, but they made no effort to tear away from the uncovered skin. Sanji dropped his shirt at his feet and snaked his arms out, his hands finding the collar of Zoro's shirt, and pulling him in close.
"You've been watching my ass this entire evening," he whispered, into Zoro's mouth, pausing to lick the lower lip seductively, "Fuck, you've been watching me for months. What can that mean, I wonder?"
"That-", Zoro was blushing, Sanji could only barely tell, as his tan skin and the dim lighting rendered details fuzzy. He was momentarily surprised, it had been a while since he had had that kind of reaction. Innocence was something he rarely associated with seduction. The tenseness of the other man's body had not left, his hands were stiffly at his sides, looking like they were struggling not to wrap around his waist.
"If you wanted me, you just had to ask…", Sanji murmured, he pressed himself roughly, suddenly against the body in front of him. He felt the sharp intake of breath as his self-manipulated erection pressed greedily against the other man's. "As you can see…I really don't have a problem if you want to be inside of me…", he let his voice trail away in unspoken promise.
"You want to fuck?.", he heard Zoro ask. The invitation was quiet, almost polite to the point of ridiculousness. As if it was him, and not Sanji who was begging, and again, Sanji found himself momentarily surprised. And he wasted no time sliding down the hard body, making sure that the hard head of his arousal ground into Zoro with every inch as he slowly dropped to his knees in front of him.
He looked up, from his low vantage point, knowing full-well how sexually vulnerable he looked, letting Zoro enjoy the sight of him on his knees before him and the expectant knowledge of what was coming. Sanji let his eyelids close halfway, and opened his mouth slightly.
"Not yet…"
Zoro was breathing hard, and Sanji felt his thighs trembling minutely, underneath his hands which were hooked in his belt, he hadn't made any motion to leave or to speak again.
"Aren't you going to unzip? I'm not going to suck you properly through these.", Sanji said softly, his hands shook the cloth of Zoro's dress pants lightly, "Unless you want me to suck you through them?" He leaned forward slightly, just enough so that his tongue, when out, barely grazed the tip of the bulge in Zoro's crotch. Sanji could feel every fiber of the cotton roll dryly over the bumps and ridges of his tongue; all his senses were heightened, tuned to perfection, as was always the case when he worked, when he hunted. He closed his lips over the growing bulge and squeezed lightly.
And then, rough hands were lifting him up and thrusting him against the iron railing hard enough to hurt. Sanji felt the adrenaline surge through him, and he fought the overwhelming urge to resist. "Don't fucking move.", he heard Zoro growl into his ear, and Sanji willed himself to subside, to put aside his natural instinct to turn around and kick the bastard in the face for daring to mishandle him.
Meanwhile, the same hands flew over his body, his jeans were unbuckled from behind, unzipped, and pushed halfway down; warm hands were thrust inside, they quickly slid around his hips and along his inner thighs, grasping his hard cock and lifting, feeling beneath, searching.
Fingers rapidly slid from his base of his balls to the small entrance of his anus and Sanji gripped the railing, knowing what was coming, he arched his back prettily and bent over slightly, ignoring the stretching pain and the burning humiliation, and not forgetting to let out an aroused moan as fingers entered briefly, felt around and withdrew. He was, after all, very professional in everything he did, which was why he had been selected of all the potential seducers for this job.
Hands were working his pants down, and he helped them, kicking off his shoes and waiting quietly, completely nude, listening to the rustling sounds as his clothes and shoes were thoroughly searched. He wasn't worried from that quarter; he wasn't stupid enough to carry weapons on such a crucial mission, like Mr.5. Anyway, all he needed was his legs to protect himself if things got a little dangerous.
The rustling stopped, Zoro was apparently satisfied with his search and it wasn't long before Sanji felt two hands on his bare hips, massaging, tracing smooth circles on around his waist, in an almost apologetic fashion. There was a few seconds of silence before Sanji turned around, he kept his voice low and amused, betraying nothing, nothing of how he had felt throughout the little examination, "I'm not an assassin."
The first lie. The most important one.
"You never know.", the green-haired man said, and he sounded a little ashamed of himself, "But I have to make sure…I get these all the time, kind of makes it hard to trust anyone. Last time, I got a guy who had a knife up his ass...I was kind of scared that you'd be one because…", he paused, his hands continued to grip Sanji's hips, "…because I really didn't want you to be one. And the way you've been just hanging around for the past few months…made me wonder."
Sanji shrugged, "The reason I was 'hanging around' was so I could get a chance to be with you.", and he pressed himself forward again, insistently, his nudity enticing, and he purred, "You know why? So I could get your hard cock inside of me…Zoro. Don't make me beg to suck you." He dropped to his knees again, this time wrapping his hand around the shaft of his cock invitingly, "I think I want to come when I swallow you."
He watched Zoro dry-swallow, obviously aroused by the dirty talk, and slowly unbuckle his jeans. It was all the invitation he needed, Sanji pulled the cloth roughly down, along with his boxers, until his erection was exposed and stuck out ridiculously.
Then shifting himself so that he was on all fours, knowing it was the dirtiest position he could manage, Sanji raised his head and kissed the tip, pausing to make out with it like it was a mouth, hearing Zoro cry out when he did this, and running out his tongue and lathering the head with saliva, he opened his mouth wide and enveloped the first inches of Zoro's arousal, not sucking yet, but blowing hot air into his mouth and using his cheeks to force the heated air around the erection in his mouth.
Sanji understood he didn't look the handsomest while he did this, what with his cheeks puckering out like he was blowing a balloon, but he had been assured the sensations were incredible.
And he was proved right once again, as he heard Zoro cry out his name, and felt the man's knees sag slightly as he grabbed onto the railing for support. Sanji inventoried the use of his name, knowing that it meant that he had been researched and his background checked. Again, it was to be expected, and he wasn't worried. His background was completely clean, as seeing it was completely fake. It would take much more time, money, and effort to pull apart that particular façade.
Even while this analysis was running through his head, turning the cogs and gears of his mind, Sanji was lathering lick after long slurping lick on the underside, the front, and the sides of Zoro's thick, erect cock. Sanji listened, enjoying the harsh, strangled moans of the man above in a distant, calculated way which would have brought his bosses' praise.
Stretching his neck a little further, Sanji licked, kissed, and nibbled down the underside of Zoro's penis, not stopping at the base, but continuing, licking the heavy sac and slurping at it obscenely, feeling the shaft bump across his nose as he forced his face into Zoro's groin.
Shifting his weight a little, Sanji freed one of his hands and grasped his own hard cock, thrusting his lower hips into his hand, moaning at the friction, letting the vibrations travel so that Zoro let out a long moan and squirted a little semen out of his weeping tip. Sanji saw the white fluid dribble down the hot length, and he licked up after it, chasing the white backtrail eagerly, leaving behind a wet lick.
Returning his attention to the sac, Sanji opened his mouth and eagerly accepted one of the balls, he fondled with his tongue the heavy ball, and closing his mouth tight, he sucked the sac hard, earning breathy groans from Zoro. After sucking the other ball just as hard, Sanji licked slowly over the slight indentation between the sacs, slipping his sore tongue over the dent expertly. Zoro moaned at the sensation.
Sanji mouthed the side of Zoro's erection, his lips arching over the flesh daintily, and suddenly, abandoning the excessive foreplay, Sanji took the hot and aching cock fully into his mouth, sucking and slurping, moving his tongue frantically over the length in his mouth. The saliva quickly accumulated and Sanji swallowed, the reflexive motion drawing the coming erection further down into his throat, and Zoro cried out his name, and began to thrust his hips forward in time to the sucking.
Sanji continued to suck, letting Zoro thrust into him, relaxing his throat and stifling the gag reflex, each time the hard cock humped into his mouth. He increased the pace of his hand, stroking himself, and sucked harder, on what he was sure was the borderline between pain and pleasure.
Zoro was shuddering above him, and with an erratic spasm of his hips and another low cry, he came, pulsing and hot into Sanji's throat, the liquid momentarily back flowed into his mouth, and Sanji played the come over his tongue before he swallowed it hungrily, tasting in the semi-salty fluid, the bittersweet flavor of victory.
Zoro's cock lay warm and still semi-hard in his mouth, and Zoro shuddered as Sanji continued to suck him, knowing that the sensations of over-sensitivity were almost painful. And soon, he knew that the fire of arousal in Zoro's crotch and upper belly had rekindled with the way he could almost feel the blood rushing to the penis in his mouth once again.
Sanji reached behind him and traced his entrance with a finger, with an inward grimace, he slowly slid a finger he had moistened with his own come, into himself and pulled it in and out methodically. Two fingers, then three. The pain waxed and waned. Then receded again, as he finished pushing his muscles apart.
Judging from the stiffness of the cock in his mouth, Sanji decided it was time. He pulled himself off the arousal, and turned around, ignoring the protestations. Sanji's months-long research had assured him that Zoro liked his sex rough and direct, and so he wasted no time in the invitation. "Fuck me.", he ordered, without turning around, and dropped to his forearms, spreading his hips and legs out so that his ass and slick hole were presented in a blatant display. The balcony was stone, and Sanji grimaced as his knees begun to ache.
He immediately felt his hips taken in warm, oddly gentle hands, and shifted even wider, and a throbbing heat at the small, puckered entrance of his anus as he was mounted from behind. This was followed by the burning ring of heat he was already familiar with and that came as he was entered. Sanji bit his forearm to stifle the groan of pain and concentrated on accepting every inch of the cock that was fucking him.
Zoro's pants were rough and erratic and he thrust in and out of him greedily. Sanji arched his back and moaned, just like he was supposed to, and he cried out Zoro's name again and again, lacing his cries with the perfect amount of honey and desire. Sanji thrust himself back against Zoro's back, begging for more. Taking himself into his hand again, Sanji continued to pump himself, feeling that unique euphoria overwhelm him, that euphoria which came from the intoxicating mixture of intermixing sex and danger, of mingling sex and secrecy.
All pain had dissolved by now, or it had so completely dissolved in the pleasure that he was unaware of it anymore, and Sanji threw himself into the intercourse with wild abandon, pulling himself forward while Zoro pulled out, and slamming himself back onto the erection with a precision which was almost mechanical. With each fuck, Sanji pushed himself back until he felt the round heat of Zoro's sac slap his bare ass, and he briefly wondered, not without amusement, if his saliva was still decorating the other man's balls.
His prostate was found quickly, and Sanji rose his vocals appropriately, crying and moaning for more, demanding for faster, harder fucks. Zoro compiled, and Sanji lost it, semen burst from his erection and filled his cupped hand, splashed the stone floor leaving behind pale white tracks of need.
Sanji thought that Zoro would come too, but the cock that continued to pull in and out of his ass was just as hard and hot as when he had started, if a little more wet and dripping traces of come. And for the first time, Sanji felt himself subjected to the post-orgasmic sensitivity which he loved to force on his chosen lovers. It was usually him who came last or right before, who lasted out the other, who managed to keep his inner sexual frigidity even while his lover was losing it right beneath or on top of him, who managed to collect his post-climax senses so quickly and calmly, it was like he never had an orgasm at all.
Surprise and anger at the sudden change clouded his senses for a fraction of time, then it faded as his body shuddered and shuddered and his hips contracted in erratic spasms, twitching his spent cock with each pulse. Sanji could distantly hear Zoro drawing in low, rapid pants as he filled him up again and again; now, without Sanji's cooperation, he was going slower, but no less deep.
Sanji's thighs trembled from the exertion of not just collapsing into a puddle of orgasmic delight; because each time Zoro pressed his erection fully inside, he was reduced to crying out unoriented syllables of words and half-words, mewling and whimpering his surrender. And again, he felt a strange sentiment of offense at having somehow lost his iron-control of the situation as well as an even-stranger sense of challenge and excitement engulf him.
Gathering all his wits, Sanji suddenly moved himself backward, helping Zoro sheath himself completely up to his sac once again, and squeezed his muscles tightly as he pulled out. Sanji heard his name cried out, once, drawn out longingly, the 'a' sound raised in thick arousal and the ending 'i' trailed off in a sort of out-of-place wistfulness, and then the tell-tale pulse which ended in the heated liquid which seemed to bathe his innermost intestines and dribbled down the curves of his ass.
Sanji finally let himself collapse, taking Zoro down with him, who still hadn't pulled out, his mind waiting, expectant. He didn't relax until he felt the strong arms wrap him uncomfortably from behind and cradle him to an unfamiliar chest. Then he snuggled back, smiling genuinely; the sex had been different, true. And for a second there, he might have thought he was the one who was being manipulated, but in the end it was him who had been the victor.
~0~
{Six months ago}
He had been at home, or what he called the temporary residence he now resided in for his latest project. He had had his feet up on the love seat, an unfiltered cigarette hanging lazily at the corner of his mouth. His eyes were gazing sightlessly out into the metropolis of Kyoto, Japan as he waited.
The millions of movies he always liked to watch on his spare time always portrayed the life of a seductress to be action-packed and full of adventure, danger, and love. Sanji supposed that was true for the first two to some extent, but when he wasn't doing what he liked to refer to as 'working', life was almost as boring as any regular joe's. More boring even. Few friends, no family, no regular job. No activity allowed lest he should be discovered. The hours dragged by when he wasn't needed.
He supposed he could cook; it was something that he secretly loved and that calmed him down as well as something that could productively pass the time. But the constant moves from country to country, from continent to continent, had frayed him. Just as he adjusted to a new gleaming, Formica kitchen, he was rudely torn from it and transferred to another house, another city. He would only collect a few pots and plates before he left them sitting in the cabinets as he swept the door to the apartment shut, effectively closing another era in his life.
Sanji had given up cooking; cooking seriously. It hurt too much to cook when his heart wasn't it. Each shining counter was a lover torn from his side. His cooking and his love for cooking was his base; one of the two golden rules he lived his life by, it was something he knew he could always rely on, something he knew would always be there for him. And to wake up one day and realize that his love had evaporated would kill him. And so Sanji refused to cook; fearing the possibility of feeling a sense of nothingness when he turned the dials on the stove on and the fire flared out.
So that particular afternoon had been like the countless ones before it. Smoke filled the apartment, hanging in wisps around the bland, generic furniture. He hadn't been expecting anything, no one had contacted him for weeks and he was beginning to wonder if he had been forgotten. Perhaps there was no need for a seduction. Different people and different cases varied in the ways they were dealt with. There were times the organization succeeded in their missions without so much as calling him; and then there were times where his phone was ringing as soon as he opened the door to his new place.
What he did was simple. He was what was femininely called a seductress. Women and men. The reason why was just as simple. Because in the deepest throes of intimacy, people talked. Because during the sweatiest, dirtiest parts of sex, people whispered secrets. Because after the near-divinity of orgasm and release, they opened their mouths and let things slip. Maybe because they thought that the bed had a magical perimeter, that what was done as well as what was said in a used bed would never pass from between the damp bedsheets.
Usually it was nothing. But important people belied important secrets. And when these certain people slipped, he was there to catch it.
Sometimes it was nothing. Sometimes it was everything.
But it was always sex. He had fucked and been fucked so many times he had lost count. He had fucked in so many different ways and positions he could have put the Kama Sutra to shame. There was nothing he didn't know about the human body and its pleasure centers. What hurt and what didn't. What brought pleasure and what brought pain. And what brought both.
He had become the best at what he did. He was paid handsomely, was given a small white card which he could flash in the right places to be able to obtain the finest of whatever was available, whether it be the presidential suite at a Hilton hotel or the best seats in the baseball stadium; he was handed the keys to several luxury sports cars and to several skyline apartments; he was given a bank card which had a fixed amount of $1 million no matter how much he withdrew, he was given everything and anything he had ever wanted and would never need. And if he ever wanted something, anything, he only need ask.
He was also given a set of papers every time he switched residences. Birth certificate, driver's license, passport, and pages and pages of his new persona. Including fingerprints and personality. It took him a week, sometimes less, to shapeshift, to molt his old self and take up this new one.
These extremes to eradicate his past movements were never taken lightly. Because sometimes, he left behind a body in the bed. He hadn't always been a seducer; Sanji had begun his meteoric rise to infamy in the ample field of assassination. It was an experience which stood him in good stead.
Right now he was Sanji Jambe. The use of his real first name had been a small concession granted to him by the surly man who handled his profiles. Usually he didn't care to be called any name or other, but just this once, on a foolish, spur-of-the-moment whim, he had asked for his real name to be kept.
There had been some protest, but Sanji had stood firm. After all, it didn't really matter if anyone knew his real name since he was a man without a background, without a history or a home. Research on his name would turn up nothing and they knew it. So they had reluctantly printed the name Sanji Jambe at the top of his newest profile.
Anyway, it went with his manufactured history. A French father, a Japanese mother. They each imparted their nationality into his name. It's a cute story. He liked to tell it over cocktail sausages.
He grew up in France, spoke a little Japanese. He is currently in Japan attending some conferences about the future of his company Mouton which produces silverware worldwide; and at the same time he appears on a cooking show each day for twenty minutes and gives helpful tips to aspiring chefs. He lets his face be known, but does not overdue it. Waiting is better.
Then, the call. He knows who it is and what he wants as soon as is ring. It is a private direct line.
"Moshi-moshi?", Sanji picks up, the Japanese response rolling off his tongue automatically.
"Sanji, it's me~. Were you beginning to think we had forgotten you, honeybunch?", the annoying, grating laughter honks away in his ear. Sanji grimaces and pulls the cell away from his head, but he doesn't lose his temper as he might have done if it were somewhere else. Mr. 2, or Bonclay, as he is known to his closer associates, is the closest thing to a true friend he has in the organization collectively known as Baroque Works.
"Bonclay. How've you been?", Sanji smiles, as he mentally pictures the man he is talking too. Obscenely tall and with a strange square haircut, Bonclay stands out.
"Mwahahaha~ I've been Octa-Puuurfect Saaa~nji-dear! The Organization has been trying to get this man to crack and spill something about his bosses, buuuu~t he's a tough nut to craaaa~ck! We neeeed your heeee~lp!"
Sanji tips his feet back on the coffee table in front of him, "Man? What is he, gay?" He doesn't mind, but he has only worked on five or six men in his long career as opposed to countless women, "This sounds more like your field Bon-boy."
"Don't joooo~ke around!~", is the reply, "You're the only one who can do this Saaaanji~"
"Yeah, okay, whatever.", and Sanji realizes that he's snapped out of his funk, colors have brightened and lines have sharpened, it is time for him to move, "What? Who? Where?" His fingers are itching for pen and paper to begin scribbling down notes, and he seizes a nearby 'To do' list, grinning at the irony.
Sanji grins again as he catches himself tapping his foot in a quirky rhythm as Bon begins to speak. Pages quickly fill with his messy handwriting, barely legible. It doesn't matter, he'll have to burn them later. An hour later, he gently hangs up on Bonclay after exchanging a bantering goodbye.
Sanji leaned his head back and closed his eyes, a sluggish smile lighting up his features, and he thinks Sometimes it sucks. Sometimes it's hell. Is it dangerous? Hell yes. Is it illegal? In all four hundred or so countries that I'm aware of. Is it morally and ethically wrong? Without a doubt. Do I love it?
Fuck yeah.
~0~
The second call comes the next day. It's Bon again, sounding unusually subdued. Sanji doesn't ask, knowing that Bon always sounds sad when he relays the 'Start' message. They are friends, after all, and every time he works Sanji knows he is risking his life.
The conversation is oddly formal and ritualistic. Information that has been given is given again and questions asked. Sanji answers smoothly, knowing that the conversation is being recorded to be listened to later by the boss. It is his formal acceptance and agreement to the terms. Though he is always given exactly three weeks to merely observe; and then either call it off or signal his willingness to continue, though he has never taken the three-week escape hatch.
"Hello. It's me. It's what we talked about before."
"What can I do?"
"Are you ready?"
"Always am."
"Address: 31978 Grand Line. Name: Roronoa Zoro. You have three weeks."
"Okay…got it.", he writes it down. Just in case.
"Good luck…and take care of yourself Sanji. This is probably the most important mission of your life…. and the most dangerous.", Bon is serious, his normally loud and obnoxious voice is strangely handsome when subdued.
"Yeah.", Sanji can feel Bon wanting to add something more, to warn him again to watch his ass, it's already cracked, kid. He doesn't though.
"Sayonara Sanji." It seems like he wasn't the only one who picked up some bits and fragments of Japanese.
The click as Bon hangs up is very loud in Sanji's ear and he lights up a cigarette, just like he always does when he starts something new. Then he goes into his kitchen and cooks for what seems like the first time in years. He has a feeling that, this time, he is going to be here for a very long time.
~0~
Sanji spent the next few months observing Roronoa Zoro. And cleverly used his fake prestige to manage to get invited to all the cocktails, receptions, and other social gatherings that Zoro attends thanks to the other man's position as a juvenile military tactician of the Marines. Though Sanji made sure to manipulate the situation so they never actually could meet.
He could feel the other man's interest increasing, and he redoubled his efforts to avoid contact, heading to the bathroom when he saw Zoro moving near him, or simply leaving when the green-haired man tried too many times to grab his attention. He knew that the other did not broadcast his orientation and relatively few knew; and so Sanji made sure to discreetly spread the news that he, himself, was bisexual; knowing that it would reach Zoro's ears eventually.
But he made sure he was always there; a constant temptation. It was only a few more weeks later that he followed Zoro out into the balcony.
~0~
{Three months ago}
"Look, over there! How about him, Zoro?", Zoro turned, annoyed, as his younger, adopted brother tugged on his sleeve and made an obvious show of pointing someone out.
"Shut up! Don't be so fucking obvious Luffy, Jesus Christ, man!", They were at one of those social parties that were so fucking annoying, but were mandatory that he attend. Ever since he had admitted to his younger brother that he wasn't exactly interested in the opposite gender, the black-haired idiot had been adamant on settling him down with a man, regardless if the potential lover were gay or straight, a close friend or even a complete stranger. Luffy had pointed them all out, from ancient wizened old men to young teenage boys.
"If it's another kid, Luffy, for once and all I am not a pedophile.", Zoro said, turning and following with his eyes the direction of his brother's pointing finger. He seriously didn't know why he kept on turning and seeing who Luffy had pointed out. Maybe he just did it for the laughs. Maybe he still had some hope left.
"Aghh, Luffy, the guy's fucking fat and he looks old enough to be friends with Jesus! Will you stop-"
"No! Not him, the guy next to him! On the right!"
"What-Oh.", Zoro did a double-take in spite of himself. Hot blonde looking bored, his age or a little younger, with his hands in his pockets, leaning against a wall, talking a woman up, "Who's that?"
"I don't know! Haven't seen him before. Should I go ask?", Luffy poised himself to hurtle across the room in the blonde's direction.
"No, you idiot. You'll freak him out. How come I've never seen him before? I've been at these fucking parties since day one.", Zoro asked thoughtfully. He liked his job well enough; working for the marines as one of the military strategists, though he was only a rookie, had its perks, and was rewarding. But all the social events he had to attend to cater to the right people were annoying. Luckily, Luffy was allowed to tag along. Guests were welcome, if you were the right person.
And he was the 'right person' so help him God. (Though he didn't believe in God, he just liked saying that.) He didn't really notice when people started to recognize him or to introduce themselves timidly or with an air of importance. But suddenly, he just hadn't been Roronoa Zoro. He had been the Roronoa Zoro, brilliant new military rookie who was in direct contact with all the really big names.
Or as Luffy liked to say, '"You're famous, Zoro!"
It wasn't that much of a drag; amazing travel opportunities; currently, he was residing in Japan of all places . Japan! He had never thought much of it, out of it being the place where sushi and anime originated. Fucking great salary. Zoro was pretty sure he took in more than $5 million a year, after taxes. All for designing tactics for potential warfare and overseeing the designs of the different weapons. It wasn't even hard. …Summertime…and the living's easy…or so Sublime said.
Though the frequent assassination attempts were rather annoying. Sometimes they were so half-assed, he felt embarrassed, but there were times when he could feel the wind of the bullet graze his cheek. Why people wanted him dead, he didn't know, or care. He didn't bother with that stuff. It probably had to do with organized crime and foreign politics, anyway. That people wanted him dead, he was also okay with him, he accepted it as part of the life that came with his job.
Though it did make having friends and lovers he trusted far and few between.
Which was why Luffy was observing the newcomer with such insistence, "Well, what about him? Does he look good?", Luffy demanded, as though her were talking about a hunk of meat, sitting beneath the butcher's glass in the supermarket.
"Of course he looks good Luffy. It's not all about looks though. And it doesn't mean he's interested either. He doesn't look like the type.", Zoro said, casting another cursory glance at the blonde near the buffet tables.
"You don't look like the type either.", Luffy pointed out, quite reasonably.
"Yeah, but still, what are the chances?", Zoro replied, thinking Goddamn it, Luffy makes so much damn sense sometimes.
"You could at least try.", Luffy had persisted.
"No.", he had said, and that had been that. Anyway, Zoro thought Guy looks straighter than a fucking freeway.
So when he heard that Sanji Jambe, as the mysterious man turned out to be named swung both ways quite cheerfully, he was surprised as any. The information had found his way to him from Luffy, of all people.
"Are you sure?", he had asked, skeptic.
"Yeah! That's what he said! Coz I said, 'Have you found anyone special?' and he said, 'No. I'm still looking for the right girl, or guy.' And I said, 'Guy? Are you gay?' and he said, 'No, I just love fall in love with people without caring which way they pee. Got a problem with that?' and I said, 'No! That's great!' and he said, 'You're weird kid.' And I said, "I'm not the one with the curly eyebrows-"
"Okay, Luffy. Okay, I see where this is going."
Zoro had kept his eye on Sanji Jambe, not just for a potential fooling around type of deal, but for something more lasting. Friends he had; but it would be great if he could hang out with one who actually could step foot in these damn parties.
But Sanji Jambe kept his distance. He would always keep in the fringes of Zoro's vision, moving politely away if he came too close, dancing just out of reach without seeming to even realize that he was doing so. It was intoxicating. And since there was nothing better to do at these events in which Sanji showed up at then watch Luffy throw boogers in people's drinks, he made it a sort of game to chase after the blonde man, making his intentions clear with soft, secretive glances and signals.
And be damned if he didn't catch Sanji Jambe smiling at him from beneath his yellow hair and at times posing very provocatively. It go so, Zoro nearly salivated on sight when he saw the black suit and jutting cigarette. He hadn't even talked to the other guy, and Zoro already carried a small tube of Lubriderm in his pocket.
It became a sort of game to him, to try to capture Sanji Jambe; and Zoro began to look forward to the parties he had disliked so much before. A feeling of mutual friendship seemed to spring between them without even exchanging a word.
It had taken another assassination attempt to open his eyes more widely and snap him out of his daze. He had been right about to go down on a one-night-stand type of guy who had also been a sort of friend when the same so-called friend had nearly put six inches of steel into his chest.
It had been rather close, Zoro had managed to dodge and counter-attack; but the man had swallowed a cyanide pill just before, and he died writhing in his arms. Not only had been a harrowing experience and settled him into gloom for weeks, but he saw Sanji Jambe in a different way. Could it be that the blonde temptation was just another trap set out for him?
He had finally done a thorough background check on the man, feeling like a rat for doing so, but doing it nevertheless. And Zoro had been immensely relieved to see that it had turned up clear. Though, that in itself could mean nothing. His 'friend' had also been clear.
So when the balcony door had opened up behind him, and he knew exactly who it was because only one man in his life at the moment could get his stomach all tense and coiled like that; he had been excited, apprehensive, euphoric, and wary all the same time.
The rest that happened was history.
~0~
