Title: Existentialism
Pairing: Zoro/Sanji
Rating: R
Warning: sexual content, language, adult content
Topic: Nightmare
~*Existentialism*~
Blackness – a piercing darkness that smothered his sight and plunged him into a world of night and bleak uncertainty. Clawing at the edge of his senses, his breath was failing him, threatening to leave him entirely in this abyss of fear and anxiety.
Voice – a hushed but eerie whisper in his ear, cackling laughs of ill-intent setting worry deep within his tortured mind. Something foul was drawing near, and he was powerless to oppose it, merely a prisoner in his own unconsciousness.
Pain – a searing, aching, burning tear that ripped through his subconscious, pulling silent screams of frustration and pleas for absolution from his phantom lips. A new agony wrought from dark memories of a life he could have saved – a friend he was forced to witness rot away and fade before his ice-blue eyes, wide with flooded reverie and anguish.
But then that too was fading away…
An unanticipated relief washed over in the manifestation of blessed consciousness when strong, familiar, arms came to encircle his shoulders, pulling him tightly against an equally strong, equally familiar body.
"Shh…breathe, shit-cook. It's over now. I'm still here."
Those words – that voice…so rich and deep and so goddamn welcome, embraced him, his eyes quickly moistening with the force of his relief and realization of his position, encased in the warmth and comfort of the one man that could cause these haunting dreams to both form and abate.
Deceptively soft lips found their way to his sweaty temple, and a rough and callused hand stroked across his slick forehead, pushing his now damp bangs away from his eyes, allowing him to blearily open them to take in the figure beside him.
That scorching mouth made it's way gently and lazily down his flushed cheek, sliding breathlessly across to capture his own panting lips in a slow, heavy kiss – as if trying to pry any remnants of the nightmare from his exhausted and shaken body.
The rough hand's partner found it's rhythm stroking lazy, soothing patterns along the blonde's bare back, tracing the subtle muscles and sharp ribs beneath the pale, alabaster flesh, heated from both sleep and touch.
A soft whimper betrayed him, slipping past his gasping lips, disappearing into that demanding and overwhelming mouth against his own. It only seemed to fuel the other on, a hand plunging into his hairline at the back of his neck, massaging relaxing trails through his damp scalp.
Any lingering worry or anxiety faded away as the hand at his back slipped swiftly between their bodies, disappearing below the waistband of his black sweatpants to curl skilled digits around his half-hard member, wringing a sharp moan of surprise from his lips.
His overly sensitive flesh hung heavier as it filled with growing desire, expanding quickly beneath that callused grip stroking him softly yet firmly into full arousal.
Pulling a soft whine from his willing lips, the swordsman attacked that wanton mouth with a renewed fervor, using his free hand to shove the offending black fabric further down those slender, ivory legs.
The cook gasped softly as cold air rushed against his heated flesh, sending a shiver of pleasure down his spine. The sensations were almost too much for his already weakened defenses, unable to hold back any soft whimpers or moans of pleasure.
It wasn't long before he came – hot, hard, and shamelessly – against the swordsman's fingers, coating them and his own clenched abdominal muscles. Those sinfully careful lips muffled and swallowed any cry that managed to slip past his throat at the moment of mind-blowing release.
As he began to retreat down from his peak, spasms and aftershocks rocking his trembling body, he could feel the hot breath gliding against his earlobe.
"Feel better?"
He was too exhausted to even nod in affirmation, but that didn't stop him from settling for snuggling his body tightly against his silent guardian and thanking whatever deity that might have been in their presence that night for his faithful warrior.
While this stubborn man might have been the reason for his recurring nightmares, he was also the only one who never failed at showing him just how real he still was… that, while nightmares warped for the worse every night, only one thing could remain constant: an unconditional commitment between the two figures locked together that not even those false realities could attempt to overcome.