Warnings For This Chapter:
1) There is a chunk of SanjixZoro towards the end. (My blood is actually boiling in response to the fact that I have to make this a warning, but there it is. In short, I. Don't. Care. If. You. Don't. Like. Sanzo. It's important to the narrative in this story and there will be a nice chunk of Zosan in the last chapter so Deal With It.)
2) Zoro and Sanji say fuck a lot. Like, a LOT.
3) I may have messed with canon timeline a bit. I'm not actually sure.
4) Drunk dialogue.
Chapter 13
Rough hands moved over soft skin; chapped lips pressed on the lightly stubbled underside of a jaw. Muscles rippled slowly beneath tanned thighs as they rolled against slender, pale hips. Words, whispered between panting breaths, tumbled over the shell of an ear as fingers threaded through sweaty, dark hair.
Sanji had not moved from his seat on the wide couch since he had returned from the impromptu tour with Roe. He still reclined against the same cushions, still leaned his elbow on the same armrest. Nothing had changed. He was still in the same place.
But then again, everything had changed, and the cook was in another world.
Roe's hands gripped the edge of the table a mere few inches from where Sanji's ankle rested on his opposite knee. The companion lay on his back, his legs wound tightly around Sky's waist, and he was breathing in soft, broken gasps into his lover's mouth.
Sky was the one speaking, whispering what could only be described as sweet nothings against trembling lips. Sanji had heard every one of the phrases before—had even said some of them to a girl here or there at some point, but he had never said them like Sky said them to Roe. No, he had never meant them. Never in his life had Sanji heard anyone say those things with such reverence, such love, and the difference could have been measured in universes.
This was what it was like to be with someone you loved.
The dancers weren't even doing anything that erotic, they were just rocking together, Sky's cock sliding in and out of Roe's body at a slow, sensual pace. He palmed at Roe's length on and off, but it was like the brunette didn't even need it. The tension in the air was tangible, the intensity of their lovemaking—holy shit that's what it was, wasn't it—bled out from their bodies, driving up the temperature in the room, making Sanji shiver even as sweat beaded on his forehead and ran down the back of his neck. It was heady, tantric.
Sanji couldn't look away, and he almost couldn't breathe.
Would he ever find something like this? Was he even worthy of something like this? God, what would it be like to have Zoro like this? To listen to the swordsman's hitching breath as that amazing body wrapped around him? To feel that dark skin sliding against his so slowly it was almost painful? Shit. To be balls deep in Zoro as that fucking beautiful, green-haired, bastard ran his tongue up his throat? Could there be anything better than that? All Blue, maybe. Maybe not. Was it possible?
Roe let out a breathy moan and slid his hands up and over Sky's shoulders. He cupped the back of the blond's head and spoke so softly Sanji almost didn't hear him.
"I'm gonna come…"
Sky's arms started to tremble as he held himself over the other man's body. His hips still moved slowly, but there might have been a bit more force in his thrusts.
"Wait," he breathed, his voice breaking under the strain of his pleasure, "Wait for me, I'm so close… Please, baby, wait for me…"
Sanji's stomach did a little flip and his cock jumped. He was already so turned on he wasn't sure if he could take much more.
And then he heard Zoro's voice in the back of his mind. A gasping, growling, Zoro, whispering words against Sanji's own lips.
"Sanji… Sanji… I'm gonna come…"
The cook shuddered, his loins tightened deliciously, and he did the only thing he could think of.
He lifted his glass and polished off the last of the whiskey.
Edgar's back was warm and slick against Zoro's chest. The boy's breath had finally slowed and evened out a while ago, but both he and Zoro were too comfortable to move. The swordsman lay staring at the ceiling, wondering how after having sex four times in the last few hours, and drinking three bottles of what was probably ludicrously expensive whiskey, he was almost ready to go again. He was young, yes, but hell, there was virile and then there was just fucking ridiculous.
Edgar stretched on top of him and turned his head to nuzzle his nose under Zoro's chin. When he did, that smell invaded the swordsman's senses. That smell of cigarettes and smoke from a fire and toast and aftershave and Zoro felt himself getting hard again—
He gently rolled Edgar off him and kissed the skin between the companion's shoulder blades as an apology. He felt ashamed, not because of anything he had done with this kid that looked like he might be younger than Luffy, but because while that kid had been riding him like his very life depended on it, Zoro had pressed his face into that soft, blond hair, inhaled that familiar, smoky scent, and had come so hard he had definitely forgotten how to breathe for longer than was probably good for him. Now, he was smelling that scent again and would pound this companion into the mattress if he didn't get up and go now.
Not that Edgar wouldn't mind being pounded into the mattress, no, Zoro was pretty sure he would love that. It was the principle of the thing. He couldn't stomach fucking prostitutes while he actively thought about Sanji the entire time. Yeah, it had been in the back of his mind for months, and yeah let's not forget Christian and all that shit, but come on. That was just fucked up. Zoro was fucked up.
He knew he was fucked up.
And drunk. Really drunk.
Standing, Zoro found the floor tilted towards the window. He hadn't remembered it tilting that far when he had entered. Then again, Edgar had been ripping off his clothes and climbing him like ship's rigging so maybe he just hadn't noticed?
"Hey, sexy," Zoro grunted—shit did he just actually say that? Sounds so fucking stupid—"Where'd y'throw my clothes?"
Edgar giggled into a pillow and pointed to the floor by Zoro's feet.
"Hn, thanks," Zoro mumbled and went to work. Did shirts usually have so many holes in them? Which one did his head go through?
He stumbled out of the room, buttoning his pants. His boots had never come off, thankfully, he wouldn't have been able to figure those out on his own. He looked right and then left, not sure which direction he needed to go to get back to the lounge, but not really caring either. If he got a little turned around it would give him some time to regain his composure. Wouldn't do to come back in and have the cook see him falling all over himself. He would be hearing about it for weeks if he did.
He trailed his fingers along the wall as he made his way towards a lamp fixture he thought he remembered. He breathed deeply, ignoring the various noises coming from different rooms, focusing on his heart rate and thinking about drills his sensei had taught him to improve clarity. It wasn't really helping, but it made Zoro feel like he was regaining some sense of control. Damnit, why was he going back to the lounge again? He could have just stayed the night with Edgar. He could have been sleeping right now.
No, no… Edgar smelled like Sanji, and Zoro needed to get away because Sanji's smell was apparently a very dangerous aphrodisiac. He might actually die from all the sex that Sanji's smell would make him have. At the very least he would cripple poor Edgar.
The lounge door was closed but Zoro knew he was in the right place. There were letters written in flowery script that spelled out Blue Room on the door about eye level. He remembered snickering at this earlier that evening, but he couldn't remember why. He fumbled with the handle and slipped inside.
The room was hot.
It took Zoro a minute to process what was happening and why the temperature had increased so much since he had left, but when he finally did, he was impressed, to say the least.
The dancers, Sky and that other one, the dark haired one, were fucking on the table. They were going at it slow and hard, looking into each other's eyes, gasping into each other's mouths. It was sexy as hell, mostly because they were so into each other. Even completely blitzed Zoro could see there was more than just years and friendship and working relations between the two of them. There was love and trust.
Shit, if he could have Sanji like that, just once…
Speaking of Sanji, the cook was sitting in his same spot, his empty glass hanging from his fingers. A cigarette sat precariously between his lips, and those blue eyes watched the companions lazily, not noticing that Zoro had come back and was watching him in turn.
He was so fucking beautiful.
Zoro's stomach rolled, not with nausea like he would have expected after as much alcohol as he had ingested, but with something like grief. How could he even entertain a thought like making love—pppfft, making love, that sounds so stupid—making… slow, gentle, passionate sex with Sanji? Maybe if Zoro played his cards right, they'd fuck someday. Maybe. If he could not screw things up, or at least not screw things up too badly, maybe someday Sanji would let Zoro suck him off. Maybe, if there was a god, and he or she wasn't too terribly angry at the swordsman for not believing in them, Zoro could kiss Sanji. Just once. That would be…
Sanji's gaze slid from the companions on the table and met Zoro's eyes. The swordsman held his breath, waiting for the cook to look away or wave him off or whatever, but to his complete and utter astonishment none of those things happened. Sanji carefully set his glass down, took a long drag from his cigarette, and then beckoned to Zoro with one slender finger.
Time stopped and the floor did that strange tilting thing again.
What did this mean?
When Zoro didn't budge, Sanji beckoned again, this time with his whole hand. He looked like he was getting impatient so Zoro, against his better judgement, moved. He stepped carefully around the table, not even sparing a glance at the amazing display going on only inches from where he stood, and slid onto the opposite end of the couch. His eyes never left Sanji's face.
"Marimo," Sanji said softly, his speech was slow and thick. The cook was drunk too.
Not knowing exactly what to say, Zoro replied simply, "Shit-cook."
Sanji actually chuckled, and then turned back to watch the dancers. "You made it just in time."
He had. The swordsman could hear the dark-haired one starting to keen, and the blond was grunting softly, whispering breathlessly against the other man's lips. It was intoxicating, probably one of the sexiest things Zoro would ever get the chance to see.
However, Zoro spared them only a quick glance before letting his eyes drift back to Sanji's face. The cook was sucking on the cigarette again, cheeks hollowed and lips pursed. Then he did that sexy thing where he pulled the stick from his mouth and breathed in deeper, bearing his teeth before letting it all out in a slow, thin stream.
Zoro wanted nothing else but to simply watch the cook. He just wanted to be there in that space while the tension mounted and peaked and the sound of the companions coming would shatter everything entirely. He wanted to see Sanji's reaction, wanted to feel it when that tension finally broke and caused the cook's arousal to flare brighter.
He was a few feet from where Sanji sat but he could still clearly see those lines of sweat running from that jaw down to slip below a starched collar.
Okay, Zoro changed his mind. What he really wanted was to lick the sweat off that pale skin.
Any moment now, Zoro knew that Sanji was going to reach his limit. He would turn to the swordsman and growl at him for being a creep. Or he would bark at him for being awkward or distracting or something like that. There was no way Zoro was getting away with this.
But again, Zoro was surprised. Sanji obviously knew he was being watched, but he said nothing, did nothing. He continued to watch the companions and let the swordsman watch him.
Shit, Zoro thought. What had he gotten himself into? He should have just stayed upstairs with Edgar.
Sanji was aware that he was drunk. Very, very drunk. He was also aware that despite Roe and Sky's display being one of the hottest things he had ever seen, Zoro had no interest in it. He could feel the swordsman's eyes on him, obvious, and penetrating. The bastard wasn't even trying to be discrete.
If this had happened a few days ago, hell, if this had happened earlier tonight, Sanji would have been out of his mind with anxiety, and with questions. But as it happened, the alcohol, the heat of the room, the smell of sex in the air, and the sensual, beautiful, amazingly intense display in front of them occupied Sanji's mind and provided just the right amount of distraction. He was so focused in the moment, and so turned on that he just… let it happen. What was the point of fighting it? Why ruin a good thing?
Sky was coming finally, hitching a ride on the last few waves of Roe's climax. The two of them moaned and panted as Sky shuddered and stilled over Roe's body. Sanji's heart ached at the sight, his cock throbbed, his mouth was already dry but he swallowed against it because, well, what else was he going to do?
Zoro watched the cook shiver as the dancers slowly came back to themselves. He could hear them kissing, murmuring softly to each other as they caught their breath. When they parted and slid down off the table, Sky said something snarky and Sanji laughed. The brunette talked softly with Sanji and the two teased each other as the companion slipped his pants on and moved to sit on the arm of the couch. He looked tired but thoroughly fucked in the best way.
"Sky and I are going to go clean up real fast," he said. "Is there anything we can get you two?"
Sanji smiled. "We could all probably use some water."
Finding this incredibly funny for some reason, Zoro turned his head and snickered into the couch cushions.
"Yes, water, we can do that," Sky murmured softly.
"Anything else?" the brunette asked. "You want us to… take our time, maybe? Give you two a few, uh, minutes?"
That made Zoro lift his head. The companion had a peculiar look on his face, and his eyes were trained on him, not Sanji. That was odd. But he was too drunk to be able to make sense of any underlying meanings, so Zoro chose to ignore this and reposition himself on the couch instead. He ended up sprawled with his back resting on the armrest, and his feet crossed a few inches from Sanji's thigh.
"Take all the time you need," Sanji chuckled, "We've worked you kind of hard tonight."
"Don't be silly," the companion grinned, "It's not work if you're enjoying yourself."
Then to Zoro's horror, the brunette leaned down and pressed his lips to Sanji's. It was a simple kiss, soft and chaste, but that was not the point. For some stupid reason, Zoro was sure this companion was doing this solely because he knew about Zoro's obsession and was taunting him. It was ludicrous, but at that moment the swordsman was absolutely positive. He was about to sit up and tell the pretty, dark-eyed, menace to get the hell out if he wanted to stay pretty, but Sanji chose that moment to reach up and slide his fingers through dark hair.
Now embarrassed on top of being horrified, Zoro backed down and resigned himself to wallow in his own drunken misery. No matter how much it bothered him, he had no right to say anything if Sanji wanted it.
"You were… really great tonight, Roe," Sanji's said when they parted. His words came slowly as if he had to think about them for a few moments before trying them out. "You too, Sky. Thank you both." His voice had gained that rough edge reserved for fights and low-lit rooms. Zoro fucking loved that edge.
"We'll take our time, but we will come back."
Zoro was back to being confused. Why did this companion—this Roe—think they wanted to be alone? Zoro did of course, but why would he think Sanji would be okay with that?
"All right, we'll see you later then."
Zoro didn't even have the capacity to ponder what was happening anymore. It was obvious he was dreaming. You know what then? Fine. Bring it on, dream Sanji.
Sanji was silent for the few moments after the door closed, then he turned and looked at the swordsman lounging next to him. Zoro was completely wasted, but he seemed relaxed enough. Apparently, Edgar had done well working the rest of that tension out.
"So," the cook said, "funny thing: earlier when I asked you to explain yourself, you said you were too drunk. Now, we have the perfect opportunity to hash things out and we're both three sheets to the fucking wind."
Zoro cocked his head to the side. "Wha-the hell duhz that even mean?"
Sanji grinned. "Never mind."
"Meh," Zoro adjusted himself once more, uncrossing his legs and then crossing them again the opposite way. "H'ad a good time?"
"Yes," Sanji nodded.
"I don't unnerstand how you… do that."
The cook's eyebrows lowered. His brain was pretty fuzzy so trying to figure out what Zoro meant was like wading through bog water. Figuratively of course. He wasn't physically moving anywhere for a while.
"Do what?"
"Watch… that and then… do nothin'. I mean, I get how you do it, I just don-understand why."
Sanji chuckled and then surprised himself with an honest answer.
"This shit's still new to me. I'm getting better at being okay with it, but the whole thing still makes me… kind of nervous."
Zoro's face was thoughtful as he sat looking at Sanji. His eyebrows came together as his fingers lifted to scratch at his neck.
"Nervous… sex nervous?"
The smile that pulled at Sanji's lips could not be contained. "Shut up. You know what I mean."
Zoro nodded. "I… unnerstand."
For some reason Sanji's heart fluttered.
"Yeah?"
Zoro nodded slowly. "I don-ussually care what people think of me—"
"—Well, that's obvious."
"Ssshutup. I'm trynna sound all wise and shit."
Chuckling, Sanji took another drag and watched Zoro try to hide a smile behind his fingertips.
"I don-care what people think of me… mossof the time. They don-like how I look er how I fight, I don-fucking care. But when it comes to thiss…" Zoro swallowed, and his eyes went dark and far away. "No one's ever actually… giv'n me a hard time. Iss always been juss me, I giv' myself a hard time. But 'cause no one talked about it when I's young, I felt it was wrong. I fellike it was a test. Something that I had'ta fight or it was gonna make me less than… what I could be. Blacken my soul… or whatever."
He paused again, fingering at his eyelid. "Never mind, I dunno… 'm fukin' drunk. I don't know how to explain it."
A tightening in Sanji's chest had stopped the cook's breathing. He ached suddenly, his heart hurting for Zoro and for what Zoro had to have gone through. The swordsman's words "I give myself a hard time" echoed through his mind, opening doors that he thought were locked tight, or didn't even exist at all.
Then another thought struck the cook: Zoro seemed to be more inclined to talk the drunker he got. That was interesting, Sanji had never noticed that before.
"You seem to do philosophical conversations just fine while drunk."
Zoro's smile returned. He pulled his gaze away from whatever he was remembering and turned back to look at Sanji.
"I'm not asstupid as you think I am."
There was something in the way the swordsman said those words that caused pain to tear itself through Sanji's chest. The ache in his heart multiplied tenfold as the cook was reminded of just how little Zoro thought of him.
"I don't…" he said softly, trailing off. The alcohol had slowed his speech, but the sudden despair he felt made it impossible to speak at all.
Zoro eyed him sideways and cocked an eyebrow. "Did I juss make you feel bad by making you think you made me feel bad?"
"I can't make sense of that sentence," Sanji murmured, rubbing at his eyes.
The room was quiet for a long stretch of moments. Sanji felt the tension rising, unwarranted and unwanted. Damnit, he was making things awkward and he had no idea how to fix it.
Finally, Zoro spoke.
"Okay," he said softly and shifted. He sat up and moved sluggishly across the couch to sit on the cushion next to Sanji. He rested his elbow on the back and held his head up with the heel of his palm.
"I'm just gonna be straight with you for a second—"
"—Really? Here in a male brothel? I don't think so."
Sanji expected Zoro to bark at him for interrupting again but the swordsman just laughed.
"Okay, okay," Zoro smiled, "that wass funny."
Wow, Zoro was smiling at him.
"Thanks. Now, what were you saying?"
Zoro sighed. "I'm gonna try'n clear the air so promise you won't interrupt for like, a minute."
"I can't go a whole minute," Sanji smirked. "I'll give you thirty seconds."
"Okay fine," the swordsman swallowed, paused as if coming to a precipice and realizing it was a much higher drop than he had anticipated. "I-don-hate-you-okay?" he said suddenly, the words coming out in a rush so that they all bled together. Sanji stared at him, wide eyed, unsure if the words had even been said at all.
"W… what?"
"I know you think I hate you, but I don't," Zoro repeated. "I might even like you a bit. You're annoying ass hell and you dress like a fucking peacock but you're not a bad person."
He seemed to be waiting for Sanji to explode because of the "peacock" comment, but Sanji held it in and when he said nothing, Zoro continued.
"I like that your fighting style comp… hm… is like mine. And both of us…" he hesitated, just for just a moment.
"I would die for Luffy, and'm pretty sure that you would too."
Zoro wasn't looking at him but Sanji nodded anyway, heart pounding.
"You piss m'off," the swordsman said, his voice growing quieter. "You piss m'off every fuckin' day, s'metimes I don-even know why. But you're brave's hell and a damn fine cook n…" he trailed off again, sighing heavily before he spoke again. "Sucks for me, cause you're also, like, a-hunerd percent my type."
Sanji felt like his whole body was on fire. It took every ounce of his already depleted self-control to stay silent as Zoro continued.
"The sshit with Chrisstian, yeah he looked like you n' stuff but… I mean I wassn't tryin' to…"
The swordsman seemed to struggle with something for a few seconds and it was all Sanji could do to stay quiet.
"There he wass n' you juss happ'n t'look like each other, an I juss wanted to get it out of my sysstum. An then he saw'n opp… opp… a chance to fuck with our heads n' took it. So don't… don-fuckin' worry about that shit. Don-make it out t'be more than it was."
Disappointment welled in Sanji's chest, but he only had a few moments to feel it before Zoro continued.
"Okay, that bein' said," the swordsman stopped and sighed heavily, "You're a fuckin', walkin' tease. You're a goddam fantassy come to life. I mean… with th'shit-eating grin n' how you cut down guys ten times your size n' you're so f'ckin' flexssible… Iss juss impossible not t' think about it s'metimes. N' now that you're tryin… exp… doing new stuff—my'kina stuff… M'sry but I juss don-think I c'n deal withit 'nymore."
The words were out of Sanji's mouth before he could even think about it.
"Don't apologize."
Zoro's eyes opened and he fixed Sanji with an unreadable look.
Sanji's heart was pounding against his ribcage and he tried to smile under all his trembling and found it was easier than he thought.
"You just complimented me in the most amazing way so don't ruin it all by apologizing for it."
Two dark eyebrows rose, drunkenly.
"Y'took that ass a complement?"
"How else would I take it?"
"I d'know," Zoro said, "badly."
Okay, Sanji deserved that. He wasn't known for keeping his cool around the swordsman so Zoro's fears were warranted.
There were many questions the cook wanted to ask. So many unspoken things sat on the tip of his tongue, waiting to slip out and cross lines that had been made without anyone ever drawing them. He wanted to ask every single one, screw the lines, bring on whatever consequences they produced. He wanted them. He could handle them.
Instead Sanji returned to the conversation they had dropped earlier.
"So, what you said before, about feeling responsible?"
Zoro made some sort of noise in the back of his throat and lowered his head to the back of the couch. He looked unbelievably tired in that moment, like the world had just dumped an ocean of problems on his shoulders.
"I am ressponsible, no matter how y'look at it," he growled. "The reasson it bothers me 's that sometimes I wonner if I did it n' purpose."
"What?"
"Like I trieda ssteer you towards it t'make you more like… what I want? I d'know, shit I sound crazy."
"You don't sound crazy," Sanji said quickly. "You sound… like—"
"—Like I'm obsessed? Like m' really fuk'in attracted to you? Like I want you? Yes."
Sanji couldn't make his mouth move. His mind was blank with shock. Those simple, unbelievable words hung in the air between them, said almost offhandedly by a Zoro that was so pumped full of alcohol he was probably a fire hazard. The cook couldn't believe it. The damn swordsman had just opened himself up and made himself the most vulnerable target possible in the eyes of his one and only rival.
What was Sanji supposed to do with that? It's not like Zoro had just handed him his heart, but he had given over his pride, and with Zoro it was quite possible that was a much more valuable gift.
And it was a gift, Sanji was sure of that.
Shifting, Sanji turned his body to face the other man's. He put an arm up on the back of the couch and studied the deep lines in Zoro's brow. He hated that he was the one who had put those there, and he hated that he was the one that had caused so much uncertainty and discourse in the swordsman's soul.
"Zoro," he said, almost in a whisper.
Dark eyes opened and looked at him, hazy with drink, but calm and unexpectant.
Sanji took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
"What do you want from me?"
Zoro's guts did a weird flip thing. He was already sick from all the honesty, it wasn't like he needed more to stress out about. He was such an idiot. Why had he just given all the ammo and advantage over to Sanji the fucking Love-Cook? He had to be some kind of masochist or pain slave or something because this just didn't make any sense at all.
What did he want? Well, okay, there was a lot that he wanted. He wanted to lick every inch of the stupid cook's skin. He wanted to shut that voice up with his cock and shove himself down that long throat. He wanted to ride Sanji's dick until they both bled. He wanted to leave bite marks on Sanji's back that didn't go away for months…
…but he also wanted to wake up in the morning with blond hair tickling his nose. He wanted to get a sundae with all the frilly trimmings like nuts and whipped crème like he girls did. He wanted to drink and play cards in the boy's bunk and look into blue eyes that were kind and filled with laughter. He wanted to hold hands on Sunny's deck and watch the moon—shit, shit, shit!
Zoro was fucked, he was so fucked.
Steeling it all away before a panic attack could make things even worse, Zoro sighed and shook his head.
"I d'know."
That was such a copout but what was he supposed to say?
His stomach did another flip as Sanji shifted closer and brought his face so close to Zoro's that he could feel the warm breath against his cheeks.
"If we're really being straight with each other right now," Sanji said in that dick-teasing baritone, "there's probably a few things I need to say too."
Zoro took a deep breath and tried to will his mouth to close on his next words, but they came out maddeningly clear, and pathetically slow.
"If those things 'r bout how much y'want me to suck your cock, I'll listen. If not, I d'wanna hear 'em."
Sanji laughed. Not, just a quick chuckle at Zoro's crassness or some kind of condescending snort, but a real laugh, straight from his belly. The cook threw back his head and bellowed at the ceiling for a few seconds before he brought himself close again. His forehead almost touched Zoro's as he smiled wide and ran his fingers over the swordsman's jaw.
"You're gonna be the death of me, Marimo."
Zoro wasn't sure what to say, or do for that matter. The sensation of Sanji's fingers on his skin was sending shivers rocketing down his spine, and that goddamn smile was tearing him apart. To his complete and utter dismay, his dick filled and pressed hard against the inside of his pants. Fucking great, that was just what he needed.
"Cook, if you're fucking with me—"
"—I'm not right now, but I want to."
Zoro wasn't sure how long his breathing completely stopped before Sanji slapped gently at his cheek. It's not like he had a choice. There was no air in the room. No more air at all anywhere. He was dead, and this was a cruel kind of hell where Sanji demons propositioned him as a joke.
"It just makes sense," Sanji said once Zoro had let his breath out in a long whoosh. "We're nakama, we trust each other. We both… want each other. With you I can learn in a safe place."
"What d'you mean learn? What about Saul?"
"I didn't fuck Saul," Sanji chuckled suddenly. "I didn't realize I was being shifty about that until I saw you get upset over it."
Swallowing thickly, still not sure that this conversation was even real, Zoro closed the distance between them and rested his forehead against Sanji's. The realization that Sanji had not yet… that he still hadn't…
"So we've gone t'all these brothl's and been around all these guyss that would fall allover themsselves at the shance to get fucked by you… and you've never..."
Sanji nodded. "Yes."
"Well, we c'n fix that," Zoro tilted his chin, ghosting the words across Sanji's lips. "Right now. You c'n fuck me right here on thiss couch. Less go."
He felt Sanji's sharp inhale and was momentarily filled with a sense of overwhelming victory, but then the cook put his hands on Zoro's cheeks and held him still.
"Not like this," Sanji said softly. "I want you sober. I want me to be sober. I wanna look you in the eye when you come and know you're totally there with me."
Zoro shuddered so hard he teeth rattled. His cock was so hard it hurt. Unable to look into those sharp, blue eyes for another second, Zoro closed his eyes and growled low in his throat.
"Shit… shiiiit. Goddamnit, okay. I need water. Sobering up now."
Sanji let out another one of those charming belly laughs, and as if their conversation had signaled them, the door opened and Sky and Roe returned.
"Someone say they need water?" Roe's smile was shit-eating. Zoro wouldn't have been a bit surprised if he discovered that the two companions had been listening at the door this entire time.
"We brought coffee too," Sky said, "and breakfast."
"Oh my God, breakfast?" Sanji turned around bewildered. "Is it morning already?"
Chuckling, Roe set a tray with a pitcher, a kettle, and several glasses down on the table. "It's a little after five." Sky followed suite and started to unload covered dishes and bowls.
Not particularly hungry, especially after his conversation with Sanji, Zoro was not very interested in eating. However, when the tray covers were removed and the smells of bacon and sausages and pancakes invaded his senses, Zoro thought this was the greatest idea ever. Coffee would help sober him up. The food would soak up the alcohol.
Maybe they could rent a room at a hotel or something and just hole themselves up for the day. Would Sanji be okay with that? Some shabby room somewhere that was quiet and private where Zoro would let Sanji do literally anything he wanted to him? Shit he would let the cook tie him up and slap him around with a rubber chicken if that was his thing. Dress him up like a panda. Make him bark like a dog or moo like a cow. Just as long as Sanji was going to touch him, put his mouth on him. Fuck, Zoro couldn't think of anything he wouldn't do.
The companions entertained them with stories as Sanji drank coffee and Zoro stuffed his face. He wasn't worried about getting sick. He would be fine as long as he didn't sleep for a while. The cook gave him sly looks across the table once in a while, but didn't talk to him or try anything like groping at him underneath the table, which Zoro had been sure he was going to do.
As the haze of drunkenness began to lift and things started to get clearer, Zoro started to doubt the events of the past few hours. There was no way he had actually blurted out his feelings for Sanji—well, a toned down version of his feelings anyway. There was no way in hell he was going to tell the fucking cook the entire truth. And there was no way Sanji had propositioned him. That was just ridiculous. Zoro had been really drunk. It was completely understandable that he had hallucinated everything. Except for Edgar, that had definitely been real. He had the scratches to prove it.
At quarter after six, Sanji finally stood and excused them both. Sky and Roe escorted them back to the foyer, but said their goodbyes at the double doors where they had come from the night before. Sanji kissed them both, praising and thanking them for their time and their services. Sky grinned at Zoro and the swordsman gave him a small twitch of his lips and a nod, and then they were gone.
Sanji collected their belli and paid the bill, assuming that Zoro was still too drunk to settle affairs of any kind.
The swordsman was not still drunk, in fact the food and coffee had managed to sober him up quite nicely. It was just he wasn't sure what to say or how to act. How much of it had been real? What should he do?
As he stood there contemplating the floor, Sanji moved in close and handed Zoro his swords before he slid his hands in his pockets.
"Feeling okay?" he asked.
Zoro nodded as he returned his weapons back in their place at his hip. "Yeah, feeling good."
"That's good."
The tone of the cook's voice made Zoro lift his head. Sanji was watching him with a small smile, and his eyes were soft and unchallenging.
"Where to?" Sanji asked.
Zoro felt a lump rise into his throat. "What?"
Sanji chuckled, "I said where to?"
Understanding, but still unable to completely believe it, Zoro swallowed and said carefully, "I don't care."
Smile widening, Sanji's head tilted in that charming way, the same way it did when the cook was talking pretty barmaids out of their dresses, and he took a step backward. Zoro knew that tilt, and that sexy drop in his voice very well. He had heard it hundreds of times over the last few months, and oh fuck-him-running it was a million times sexier when it was directed at him.
"I need a bath," the cook said quietly, "or at least a place to rinse off… join me?"
Zoro couldn't get the words out so he merely nodded and followed the cook out the door.
They ended up returning to the ship. It just seemed right. The walk had been quiet and comfortable, the silence filled with a strangely wonderful tension. An excitement that neither man could put a name to, or even contemplate fully. They hadn't planned it, their feet just took them in that direction and before long they were standing at the foot of the dock.
Sanji said nothing and climbed aboard. Zoro followed.
They had no idea who was on watch, or if anyone was on watch at all. Franky had installed safes with locks on them so complicated only himself and Nami could open them. And if anyone tried to steal the ship itself… well, good luck to that poor soul trying to operate the damn thing. There wasn't really much need for a watchman.
Zoro hoped they were alone. He personally didn't care if they weren't, but he was a little anxious as to what Sanji might do if he discovered Luffy, or Chopper, or—god forbid—one of the girls was on the ship with them.
That thought flew out of his head when Sanji turned to him, still making his way across the deck, and slipped his tie from around his neck.
"Still need that shower," he said softly.
Zoro felt like a hungry dog being offered steak. He followed Sanji without question through the surveying room and up the ladder. When they reached the bathroom, Sanji pulled off his shirt and kicked off his shoes. He swiftly stripped the rest of his clothing off and moved into the spa. Zoro heard the sudden spray of water and swallowed thickly. Shedding his own clothes, he stepped through the door and watched the cook run his hands through his hair and down his neck. Water cascaded down his pale skin, tracing lines through hard muscle and down long legs.
He looked up at Zoro, no doubt sensing the swordsman's hesitancy, or his disbelief, or whatever the hell Zoro was feeling at the moment. He couldn't decide what it was.
"Come here," the cook said softly.
Zoro had never felt this way before, and the uncertainty of it made him nervous, wary. Sanji seemed to know just what to do, however, so when strong hands gripped his arm and pulled him under the spray, Zoro didn't fight it. When the cook turned him around and slid his hand up the swordsman's back and across his shoulders, Zoro just let it happen. He relaxed into the beat of the hot water and let Sanji work his magic. The cook had always been better at this sort of thing. He was more intuitive, more into the sensuality of the act. Zoro was fine with that and let himself be maneuvered and gently controlled, washed with care and reverence. He already trusted Sanji with his life, it wasn't that much farther of a stretch to give in and trust the cook with his body and his heart.
"I have a pull-out bed in the galley," Sanji said as he toweled Zoro's hair dry, "that okay?"
Zoro nodded, still unable to speak. Would he ever be able to speak again? He didn't know.
They wrapped towels around their waists and threw their clothes over their shoulders before they made their way back down the ladder. Sanji unlocked the door to the galley and then locked it again behind them, laying his clothes on a chair and dropping the towel in a heap on the floor. Zoro just stood watching, unable to decide his next move. His heart was pounding in his chest, his stomach was tying itself into knots as Sanji moved about his kitchen, completely nude, his hair glowing a golden yellow in the mellow rays of sunlight pouring in through the portholes.
"I sleep here sometimes when breakfast prep keeps me up late," he said as he pulled out a full-size bed hidden in the couch. "It's not the most comfortable thing in the world, but it does the job."
The cook straightened and turned to look at Zoro, a half smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.
"You gonna stand by the door all day, or are you coming over here?"
Zoro swallowed again, thickly, his mouth had gone completely dry. Still saying nothing, he dropped his clothes and boots on the floor and pulled the towel from his waist. He moved carefully across the room, his fingers ghosting over the dining table as he passed in a vain attempt at steadying himself.
When he neared Sanji, the cook reached out his hand and pulled Zoro close. His blue eyes were still soft and held the tiniest bit of humor.
"You haven't said a word since we left the brothel. Having second thoughts?"
"No," Zoro managed to choke out. Hell no, there was no goddamn way he was having second thoughts. It would take a monsoon, the entire Navy, and army of sea kings, and the wrath of Nami on a treasure-hunting tirade to get him to back out of this now.
"I just don't know what to think," he said.
"Why do you need to be thinking about anything?"
Zoro had only a moment to ponder those words before Sanji's hands went to his jaw. Strong fingers slid around to the back of his neck and a thumb pressed underneath his chin, tilting his head.
Everything in Zoro's body pulled tight as Sanji's lips came a hair's breadth from his own. The cook inhaled Zoro's sharp exhale and spoke softly into his mouth.
"Last chance…"
Zoro's restraint snapped. He was already damned, why hold back?
There was a brief space of time, a blink, one single heartbeat where Zoro thought that this couldn't be real, there was no way he was this lucky, and then he was kissing Sanji.
The cook's lips were soft but chapped, exactly the way Zoro thought they would be. He tasted of coffee, and his tongue was as sly in this as it was when he hurled dirty insults at an enemy or slipped silver-laden compliments into the ear of a lovely woman. Zoro's hands went to muscled hips, but before he could pull the two of them closer together, Sanji pulled away and was pushing Zoro backward.
"Lie down," the cook breathed, and Zoro was glad to hear the cook's voice was as raspy and uneven as he felt himself.
The mattress was firm but in a supportive kind of way. There was a single, blue sheet as cover, and two thin pillows. Sanji had tossed the blanket aside. Zoro lay on his back and rested his head on one of the pillows. He wasn't sure if this was how the cook wanted him but it seemed like the most obvious option.
He watched, humming with excitement as Sanji took three bottles from the counter, all of which he had found during the search of his cupboards, and placed them on the lamp stand beside the couch. Then he sat on the edge of the bed next to Zoro's hip. His eyes had gone a darker shade of blue, and when he caught Zoro's gaze, the swordsman shuddered helplessly.
Their lips met again, and this time the kiss had heat behind it. Zoro felt the pillow sag next to his head as Sanji leaned over him. He felt fingers sliding around his throat, tilting his jaw, manipulating his movements. Zoro had never surrendered himself like this to anyone before, and was surprised to find it so easy, so natural. His experiences before this had all been fleeting, meaningless encounters with people he didn't care about, or at least, didn't care deeply about. There had been no reason to give them this part of himself. He had been holding back, waiting. Waiting for a reason to let himself go.
Sanji was trailing kisses down his jaw, and then his neck. Biting softly at junctions and running his tongue over contours of muscle. Zoro tried desperately not to moan. He could surrender himself to Sanji, because of their bond, because of their trust, but he was not yet ready to let himself break completely open. There would be time for that later.
At the same moment he reached up to push his fingers through blond hair, Sanji swept his tongue over the tip of his scar. Zoro arched and hissed, pulling roughly at the damp locks at the back of the cook's head.
"Shit…" he whispered.
"You like that?" Sanji asked.
"No one's ever tried that before."
He could feel Sanji's smile against his skin. "And?"
"Yeah, I like it."
"Ah," was all the response Sanji gave him before he shifted, and climbed up onto the bed. He straddled Zoro's thighs and the swordsman got one quick flash of a mischievous smile before strong thumbs pressed into the sensitive flesh at the edges of the scar, and a hot tongue ran the length of it from center chest all the way up to his shoulder.
Zoro's back bowed. White hot pleasure rocketed through him. He could feel it tingling in the tips of his fingers and toes, dancing through his loins, making his cock ache.
"H—holy shit…" he couldn't breathe. He was losing his mind.
"I didn't know you had any feeling in it," Sanji said.
"I… didn't either." He couldn't decide what to do with his hands, and because he didn't want to rip Sanji's hair out, or something equally stupid, he fisted both in the pillow on either side of his head. He had never experienced sensations like these before. The press of Sanji's thumbs into his scar was painful and exquisite at the same time, and if the feel of the cook's tongue on his skin was already amazing, then the feel of it on his scar was unbelievable.
Of course, it would be Sanji that brought these new sensations to life. No one in their right mind would have the audacity to do the things that Sanji was doing to him. No one else would have the balls to even try.
Abruptly, Sanji's touch left him, and Zoro opened his eyes in time to see the cook reaching for one of the bottles on the lampstand. He popped the top and poured a small amount of whatever it was into his hand, and then replaced the cap and tossed the bottle. He then rubbed his hands together slowly, and Zoro smelled a sweet smell that made him think of desserts and fruity cocktails.
"What's that?"
Sanji grinned. "Coconut flavored body oil."
Zoro snorted a laugh. "Are you serious?"
Lowering his hands, Sanji returned his touch to Zoro's chest, this time massaging in small circles at the edges of the scar.
"You have no idea how long I've wanted to touch this thing."
"Probably as long as I've wanted to lick the sweat off your back," Zoro murmured.
"Hm, that's fair."
The cook continued to rub small circles along the outside of the raised flesh, and with every press he left a soft kiss or a teasing swipe of his tongue. Zoro let his head fall back and he growled softly up at the ceiling. He wasn't used to this kind of treatment, this gentle exploration. Not that Zoro would have let anyone else in the known universe do this to him. It undid him in ways he had never thought were possible, and it was terrifying. Terrifying and exhilarating.
Finally, just as Zoro was about to beg Sanji to stop, the cook's hands slid to his hips and he felt the blond's weight shift. A warm hand gently slapped the inside of his thigh, and Zoro obliged, understanding the request. The swordsman spread his legs so Sanji could kneel between them, and before he could adjust himself, that hand was coming around his cock, slick and deft in its touch.
Zoro made a sound that probably shamed his ancestors, and pushed up on his elbows. He was almost mad with the ache and the pleasure Sanji was coaxing from his body, he almost couldn't breathe with it, but more than anything, he wanted to see. He wanted to watch as Sanji stroked him, wanted to see his eyes.
Shit, he was so hot. The look Sanji was giving him as he watched Zoro writhe beneath his hands was almost one of reverence. The swordsman couldn't take it, he wasn't going to last if Sanji was going to look at him like that, and the last thing he wanted was to come all over himself prematurely while sobbing like a goddamn baby.
He sat up and propped himself on his hands. He was breathing heavily but he managed to keep his voice under control as he spoke.
"Come on, cook. We gonna pop your cherry, or what?"
Teeth flashed in one of those grins that drove Zoro completely wild.
"Full disclosure, this is where I get a little lost."
"What," Zoro chuckled breathlessly, "you don't know where to put it?"
Sanji laughed against his mouth. "Don't be an ass. I understand the basics, I just don't want to do something that's going to kill the mood or… hurt you or something." His voice had gone quiet, like he was nervous. Zoro found he liked that a little and kissed him again, rough and wet, and entirely too short.
"I'll walk you through it," he said, lying back. "You have lube in one of those bottles?"
Sanji nodded, reaching for what was left on the lamp stand. "Do I need to um…"
Shit he was cute sometimes. "I said I'll walk you through it. We'll go slow."
"Okay."
Sanji took instruction well; better than Zoro had ever hoped. It was strange, telling the cook what to do, where to touch—fuck yeah, just like that— and how to move. They had been at such odds only weeks ago, and now here they were, doing this perfect, intimate thing, completely in synch with each other. Zoro setting the pace, and Sanji following in seamless rhythm.
Zoro began to see how Sanji had gotten so good at so many things. He listened, he understood, and when he got the essentials he took the reins and made it his own. It was fascinating and sexy the way his eyes calculated and the way his jaw set in quiet determination. When he watched Sanji's hand close around himself, watched as the cook lifted Zoro's knee and spread his legs wide, the swordsman's breath caught. Sanji was gentle as he pressed forward, listening to Zoro's instructions on when to stop and when to start again. By the time he was fully seated, they were both covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and Zoro was panting once again.
"Oh my god," Sanji whispered.
Zoro was floating in a haze of pain and raw, exquisite, pleasure. His eyes were closed, so when the cook's fingers traced the line of his jaw, he started. When he opened them, he found Sanji close, watching his face and running his thumb over the line of Zoro's lips.
It was in that moment, as the cook's body settled over him, and his blue eyes searched far deeper than either of them would like to admit, that Zoro felt a wave of emotion take hold of him. It was unexpected but only in its timing. Zoro knew that something like this was bound to happen, but he had been sure that it would come after this was over, and he had nothing but the memories of their time together to cling to.
"Hey," Sanji whispered, "still with me?"
The cook was trembling, his hand was shaking as it trailed down Zoro's face. The tenderness in his touch undid the swordsman and he responded the only way he could. With action.
He wrapped his ankles around Sanji's thighs, and lifted his head to capture the cook's chapped lips in another one of those rough, wet, kisses.
"Fuck me," he growled into Sanji's mouth, "come on." Please. "Gimme all you got." I need you.
Sanji groaned and braced himself on his elbow, the opposite hand lowering from Zoro's face to grip the sheet. He kissed the swordsman's lips once, softly, and then snapped his hips forward.
Lightening flashed behind Zoro's eyes.
Oh god…
Sanji dug the balls of his feet into the mattress and snapped his hips forward again. Zoro's breath caught as another lightning bold of pleasure shot through him.
"F—fuck!"
The muscles in the cook's thighs flexed as he moved, rippling on the inside of Zoro's legs. He snapped his hips forward a third time and made a soft sound of pleasure against Zoro's lips.
"Ah, goddamn cook," Zoro heard himself say, "don't you fucking stop."
Another powerful thrust forward and pain was synonymous with pleasure.
"Like I could stop," Sanji's voice was still low, just barely above a whisper. "You undo me, you fucking bastard. You fucking sexy son of a bitch."
Their movements were fluid. Zoro's hips rose to meet Sanji's, and the two of them rocked together, breathing each other's air. Zoro watched Sanji's face, the way his hair fell across his cheeks and nose, the flush of his pale skin, the line of sweat running from his brow all the way down to his chin. Zoro reached up with both hands and slid his fingers into blond locks. He pushed them back, out of those blue eyes, and shuddered when he discovered the full intensity of Sanji's gaze.
It had never felt like this before, and Zoro wasn't sure if it was the effortless power in Sanji's hips, the strength of his body, or if it was their emotional connection cunningly playing with the strings of his heart. Sex wasn't supposed to be like this. It wasn't supposed to be this overwhelming. It wasn't supposed to make you feel this powerful, or this fucking complete.
It seemed to go on forever, and Zoro wanted it to never end. Sanji's pants turned into soft moans of pleasure. Zoro finally closed his eyes and let the feeling take him away. He held on to Sanji's shoulders and kissed the cook's mouth, his neck, his forehead. He felt the pressure building, coiling in his muscles, and in his gut. His cock ached with neglected tension as his loins started to tighten up.
"Holy shit," Sanji breathed, "you're close, aren't you? I can feel it."
Zoro nipped at the cook's bottom lip and tried to form coherent thoughts.
"Yeah."
"What do you want me to do?" Sanji asked, and his movements slowed just a little.
Shit, he was losing it. Zoro was slipping fast, faster than he ever had before. Sanji's fucking voice and his fucking body, and those goddamn, fucking eyes. Shit… shit it felt so good.
"Just… harder," he growled as he nipped at the cook a second time, managing to catch some of that pale neck between his teeth. "Try and break me."
Sanji did as he was told. He raised himself up on his hands and brought his knees up underneath Zoro's thighs. This time when he thrust forward, he had leverage. The force of his movements nearly knocked the wind right out of Zoro's lungs. More of that same white-hot pleasure shot through him and he made a noise through his teeth. He couldn't hold the noises back anymore. It was time to break open.
One of Sanji's hands found the back of the couch and that changed the angle to something even more exquisite. His hips pounded into Zoro with a force that was as brutal as it was satisfying. Zoro wrapped his hand around his cock, pumping himself in desperate, uneven jerks. The fingers of his other hand went around Sanji's wrist. The cook still had one hand fisted in the sheet by the swordsman's head.
Zoro's orgasm tightened in his balls, and he tugged on himself roughly as Sanji laid into him. The cook's gasps of pleasure and fatigue were a symphony on his ears as ecstasy boiled up and spilled over. He pulsed in his hand, spilling warmth over his fingers as bliss coursed through his veins and out to every corner of his body.
He lost a few moments of time, his vision blackening temporarily before he returned to himself. He was still breathing hard, still throbbing, riding on echoes of his release as he opened his eyes, and found Sanji watching him with eyes wide and lips parted.
Their movements had slowed to almost nothing, and the cook was looking at him desperately. He was panting heavily as well, sweat beading on his forehead.
"Can I keep going?" Sanji asked.
"Yeah," was all Zoro could say. He was still coming down and he was sure if he tried to say anything else, he wouldn't be able to form the words.
Sanji started moving again, and Zoro let go of himself and slid his hands over pale hips to grip a lean but muscled ass. He spread his legs a little wider and lifted his knees.
"Ah… fuck…" Sanji gasped as he adjusted to the new position. "I'm gonna come. You want me to pull out?"
"Hell no," Zoro growled, and gripped Sanji's ass harder. There was a little pain now, but it was worth getting to watch Sanji's face as he started to lose it.
Expletives started to tumble from Sanji's lips and the cook froze. Zoro felt the first pulse inside him and shuddered when Sanji dropped his forehead to rest it against his own. The cook gave a few more slow, easy thrusts that drove Zoro almost mad before he finally stilled.
"Holy shit," Sanji panted. "Holy shit holy shit…"
Feeling loose and completely satisfied with himself, Zoro pushed at the cook's hips and carefully extricated Sanji from between his thighs. The sharp pain of Sanji's softening cock leaving his body was startling but it was also sweet, and the swordsman maneuvered that lean body to lie next to him.
The cook went easily and then lay with his eyes closed, breathing heavily. Zoro propped himself up on his elbow and watched Sanji slide his fingers through his hair and rest his palms on his forehead. He found the action overwhelmingly sexy and leaned in to kiss a few stray beads of sweat off Sanji's jaw.
"There," Zoro said softly, "you've been educated in the ways of gay sex."
Sanji laughed and slipped one hand behind his head, the other he let fall to his chest. "Not completely."
"Oh?" Zoro said, moving his lips down Sanji's throat. "There something else you want to try?"
The cook lifted his hand and absently ran his fingers into the back of Zoro's hair. "Of course. You still have to fuck me."
Zoro stilled. He wasn't sure if it was Sanji's words, or the cook's gentle, intimate touch that had slowed his heart, but he found himself frozen, unable to speak.
He must have been silent and unmoving for too long because Sanji tugged on a strand of his hair and scoffed. "Okay, fine, if you don't want to—"
"—No no no," Zoro cut in and adjusted himself so he could look up into Sanji's face, "Don't be stupid, of course I want to. I just didn't think… you'd want to."
Sanji cocked an eyebrow and smiled at him. "Why?"
"I don't know," Zoro made a face, "Some guys just don't… I thought you wouldn't want… I don't know, never mind."
Rolling his eyes, Sanji kissed Zoro's lips around a smile and sat up. "I can take whatever you can dish out, Marimo. Don't forget it."
Zoro snickered at the phrasing and lay back, sleepy and sated. "Okay, love-cook. You can't get enough of me, I get it."
His pants hit his face and he heard his boots hit the floor next to the bed. When he pulled the fabric away and looked up, Sanji was there, smiling softly around an unlit cigarette.
"You can sleep here, but you have to put your clothes on. Don't want to scar the other members of the crew."
Zoro snorted. "Worried your Nami-san will come in and discover our little secret?"
Sanji turned away and Zoro heard the click of the lighter. "No, I'm more worried about Chopper or Usopp wandering in and going blind."
Chucking, Zoro sat up and pulled his pants back on.
The Strawhats left the island before the Marines or anyone of interest caught their scent, and made it back out onto the open sea without damaging too much property and only stealing a few valuables. The crew was in high spirits, excited to be on the move again.
Days passed and Sanji felt himself floating through them in a strange haze, a mixture of contentment and surrealism. He found himself drifting off in the kitchen more than once. One minute he would be chopping vegetables, the next he would catch himself staring out at nothing, thinking of tanned skin and a low, growling voice in his ear. These lapses would range from a few short seconds, to ten, sometimes fifteen minutes. He didn't mind, he was allowed to do this kind of thing, now that he had nothing to hide. So what if Zoro caught him staring off into space? The swordsman did it too. Sanji had seen him do it only yesterday.
Their rivalry was different now too. They still bickered, still fought, but there was a different motivation to it all now. After an insult was thrown or a foot thoughtlessly shot out to trip up a pair of boots, there was always a hidden smile or a quick flash of teeth between the two of them when no one was looking. They had not been intimate since that morning a few days ago, but their confidence hadn't changed in the slightest. They were sharing a private joke, a special secret that held them together, even when they were on opposite sides of the ship.
Sanji enjoyed this new, uncharted territory. It was unpredictable and exciting. From where they were, they could go so many different ways, travel down so many different paths. The doors that had been unlocked in Sanji's mind and heart, had been blown wide open, and he was thrilled and terrified to find out where they all led.
At the moment, the cook was standing in his kitchen, knife in hand, staring at a space somewhere between the floor and the dining table. He wasn't seeing anything there in the room, no, he was replaying the sight of Zoro's jaw clenching and the muscles of his neck flexing as he came, shuddering and shaking against his body. The thought of it still managed to slow Sanji's heart. The cook had been so overwhelmed by Zoro's power, his sexuality, that it was still all he saw when he lay his head down at night. Yesterday he had broken into a sweat in the middle of the deck just because he had glanced at Zoro as he lifted weights and was reminded of how the swordsman's ab muscles had tensed when Sanji had rubbed his thumbs across that scar.
I want him again, he thought and set down his knife. He rolled his head, trying to work the tension out of his neck. If we don't have sex again in the next day or two I'm going to go crazy.
He thought about their last conversation and a pleasant shiver rolled down his spine. Zoro was going to take him next. He was actually going to let Zoro fuck him, and the most amazing part about it all was that Sanji wanted it so fucking badly. He couldn't even begin to—
An alarm went off.
It wasn't the usual alarm, the one that buzzed throughout the ship letting the crew know a rival pirate ship or a Marine vessel had been spotted. No, this was something else that Sanji had not experienced yet.
He left the kitchen and moved out to the rail overlooking the lawn deck. Nami was there, and Usopp, and the two of them were looking wide-eyed out at the horizon on the starboard side.
"What's happening?" Sanji asked.
Nami turned to him, her lovely eyes were dark and excited, not always a terrific combination with her.
"Hurricane," she said simply.
"Oh," Sanji breathed, "that's all?"
Usopp was shaking next to the navigator. "No no, you don't get it. This is the biggest hurricane that we've ever encountered. It's even bigger than the one I lassoed and rode from Lilly Island all the way to—"
Sanji cut in, addressing Nami. "It's far enough away that we can steer clear though, isn't it?"
Nami shook her head.
"Shit."
"We're doomed," Usopp wailed.
Seventeen hours later, the seas were calm, the wind had completely died down, and the entire crew of the Thousand Sunny lay sprawled on the deck, groaning and nursing various minor wounds, bumps, bruises, and more than one severe headache.
"That was the most amazing thing…" Nami said breathlessly.
"You're amazing, Nami-san!"
"Seriously, I thought we were gonna die."
"No way, not on my ship. Ow OW!"
Luffy clapped his hands together from where he hung bonelessly over the railing. "You guys were great! I knew I could count on my crew! We should celebrate making it through the storm by eating lots of meat!"
"I second that. Meat and wine."
"That's a really good idea, we all need to eat something. Our bodies need nutrients and lots of water. Everyone's probably severely dehydrated."
Sanji sat up slowly, rubbing a sore spot on the back of his head. Chopper had been knocked off the rigging a few hours before, had flown through the air, and the only thing that had stopped him from falling into the sea was the back of Sanji's skull.
"I got it," the cook said, "give me a minute to change my clothes and wash up first though."
The crew cheered tiredly as he got to his feet and headed towards the boy's cabin. Maybe he would grab a bottle of painkillers too.
Inside the cabin was a disaster. The lockers had been warped and the doors had flown open, dumping their contents out, and then the rocking from the wind and waves had stirred it all up and spread it across the entire floor.
"Oh great," Sanji murmured, smiling despite the mess. He was enough passed annoyance and anger that everything seemed a little funny. He was also pretty tired.
The door opened behind him and the cook didn't have to turn around to know who it was. Only one person on this ship opened and closed doors like that. He listened to the sound of graceful feet clad in heavy boots moving across the room, and started only a little when hands came around his waist. Warm lips pressed against the skin just below his jaw, and a rough voice growled into his ear.
"Nothing like almost dying to get you in the mood, huh?"
Sanji laughed and let his head fall back against Zoro's shoulder. The swordsman left open-mouthed kisses down his neck and then pulled his collar away to reach his shoulder.
"It's not that I'm not completely on board with this idea," Sanji was grinning around his words, "but I'm expected in the galley in like, five seconds to make food for some of the biggest appetites in the universe."
"I think my appetite right now would give theirs a run for their money," Zoro's voice was muffled as he continued kissing and mouthing down Sanji's back, pulling the cook's ruined jacket and shirt off as he went.
Turning, Sanji put his hands on Zoro's chest and backed him up against the wall of the cabin. He pressed his lips to the swordsman's, opening his mouth and licking inside to tease at Zoro's tongue. They wrapped themselves around each other, grabbing onto the thing they both wanted so badly. They had been unable to think of anything else for the past four days, and now that buildup was at its peak. They were threads that had been pulled so tightly they had frayed and were now ready to snap.
"Look," Sanji said between kisses, "let me put something together for them. I'll wash up while they're eating and then slip away. I can meet you in the crow's nest."
"You're gonna make me sit in the galley and watch you cook? Like this? I'll fucking kill someone."
"Either that," Sanji's lips brushed across Zoro's temple, "or you go ahead, fuck me in here, and Luffy barges in and starts asking questions."
Zoro finally slowed and took a few deep breaths. He pulled back and his eyes seemed to clear. "Damnit…" he murmured. "Okay, fine, but you take too long washing up and I'll come drag you out."
Sanji laughed. "Deal."
They separated, reluctantly, and Sanji moved toward the mess looking for his things amongst the clutter of insane items and objects belonging to his crewmates. He spotted a simple yellow button-down and picked it up. His examination found no snags, tears, or mysterious stains, so he slipped it on. A dark blue tie peeked out from under a drawer. He lifted the broken drawer and untangled the tie from the handle.
A flash of gold caught Sanji's eye and he stopped.
Underneath the drawer was a mess of polishing oils, sharpening tools, and a pair of woven, gold earrings. They were long, meant to dangle from the tip of the earlobe, all the way to the shoulder. Threaded into the gold were small, round beads of varying colors.
Sanji remembered running his hands over those earrings, finding the beads and rolling them against the pads of his fingers. He would know these earrings anywhere, as he associated them to a moment of profound weakness on his part. They were burned into his memory and Sanji would never forget them as long as he lived.
But why were they here?
Something started to coil in Sanji's gut. Trepidation, fear, shame. Then when the reality of the situation, and the gravity of what it could actually mean settled over him, white-hot anger flared up from somewhere deep inside him.
He stood and turned to Zoro, who had his back turned and was rifling through a pile of valuables a few feet from where Sanji was standing.
"Zoro…" Sanji said softly.
"Yeah," Zoro didn't stop what he was doing.
The anger flared brighter. "Zoro, look at me."
Dark eyes glanced at him from over a shoulder and the swordsman straightened and turned around. "What the hell, cook? I'm not…"
Zoro's face went white as a ghost when he saw what Sanji was holding, dangling from his fingers.
Trope's earrings.
"What the hell is this?" Sanji asked. His voice was steady, but the look on Zoro's face confirmed his worst fears. "Why the hell do you have these?"
"Uh…" Zoro took a step forward and put up his hands. "Okay, I can explain—"
"—Was it you?" Sanji interrupted. "That time in the dark?"
There was a little part of Sanji, a very tiny part, that was still holding out hope that this was all a mistake. There was in fact an explanation, and any moment now, Zoro was going to explain why Trope's earrings were hidden away in one of his private drawers. But then the swordsman dropped his hands, and his face fell. Sanji saw the truth in every line of his face, in the curved way his back hunched. His mistake and his lie stood there between them like a dead, rotting animal. The smell of it thickened the air of the cabin with it's sweet, sickly, scent.
Anger was all Sanji knew. His head was filled with it. It was beating through his heart.
"You bastard…" he said softly.
"Sanji—"
"Don't fucking say my name," Sanji hissed. "I can't believe…" he dropped the earrings like they were hot, like they had burned his fingers. He backed away and started pacing, his hands going into his hair. The rage and disbelief were building, fighting with his mounting feelings of shame and betrayal.
"I actually felt bad," he wasn't looking at Zoro anymore. He couldn't. "I felt so ashamed that I'd gone there and chosen someone that looked like you. I was so embarrassed… but you…"
"I was going to tell you—"
"—Don't fucking talk to me!" Sanji roared. "You forfeited your right to say anything! I can't believe… Oh god, oh fuck. I slept with you… I can't…"
Sanji doubled over, his head swimming. Zoro had broken into one of the most private and vulnerable moments of his life, without him even knowing and now he was never going to be able to trust the swordsman ever again.
He didn't realize he was crying until the tears fell from his cheeks and slapped against the metal of the drawer at his feet. How had this happened? He had been so happy only minutes ago, and now he was broken. His fucking heart was broken.
Taking a few breaths, Sanji found his equilibrium and was able to straighten again. He lifted his eyes and glanced up to see Zoro leaning against the open lockers, his face a picture of agony. He looked like someone had died and it was his fault.
Even after everything, even after the betrayal and the lies, Sanji still felt sorry for Zoro. He was angry, god he was furious and so fucking hurt, but he also knew that Zoro had not done what he had done out of malice, or some nefarious plan of humiliation.
The cook to several deep breaths before he wiped at his face and tried to speak.
"Just tell me one thing," at the sound of his voice, Zoro flinched. "Why? Why did you do it?"
Zoro was still looking at a point on the floor a few feet from where Sanji stood. His jaw clenched and unclenched, and his left hand tightened around the hilt of his white sword as if searching for strength, or maybe just comfort.
A few long moments of silence stretched between them. Neither of them moved. They might not have even breathed.
"I'm fucking crazy over you," Zoro finally said.
Sanji's broken heart thumped in his chest.
"Not an excuse," the swordsman continued in a soft, unsteady voice, "but I don't know what else to say. It happened fast, and I swear I was going to tell you, but then I didn't."
He looked up, miserable dark eyes finding Sanji's and holding them.
"I'm sorry."
There wasn't anything else to say. Sanji needed time to think, and Zoro needed to be alone, so the cook sniffed and bent to pick up the tie he had dropped on the floor. When he straightened, he looked back up at Zoro and nodded.
"Stay away from me for a few days," he said. "We can figure this out later."
Zoro nodded, his gaze moving away again to stare at that same patch of nothing. When Sanji opened the door, he heard Zoro slide to the floor, but he didn't look back.
The cook wiped at his face again, and made his way to the galley.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Sanji and Zoro did not get a chance to figure it out until much, much later.
Not long after Sanji had fed the crew, they had rested and cleaned up most of the damage and debris from the storm, and they were back to their regular routines, they met a mermaid. That mermaid took them on an adventure that led them to the final island in Paradise. An Island which wasn't an island at all, but a massive mangrove forest.
In this place, the Strawhats were separated, and Zoro and Sanji did not see each other again for over two years.
TBC
Author's Notes:
The next chapter is the last, and I promise it will end well. You know me, unsatisfying, unhappy endings aren't my thing. I will try and get it done in a reasonable time frame, unlike many of the chapters in this fic har har.
I (loosely) based Sky and Roe on Sting and Rogue from Fairy Tail. You're welcome.