A/n: I just realised that in all the stories I've written, I've some how (unconsciously) tortured all my favorite characters. Guess my sadistic nature is taking over my conscious actions. #proudofit.

So here's Chapter 5 as promised~

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Love~

Chapter 5

Zoro pulled the hood of his cloak low over his face as he neared the end of the red-light district. A bunch of large guards, Oberon's men probably, stood at the intersection where the red-light district's main street abruptly ended and continued on as the main street of the town. Zoro almost laughed at the shocking contrast between the over populated street he was on and the desolate one behind the men. He spotted another group exiting and merged in like he was a part of them.

Of course that didn't work. The men spotted him immediately and made towards their group. Zoro instinctively reached for his swords, but his hands clutched nothing but air. He growled in frustration as the men neared. He was sure his wounds had opened and he was in no position to take on all of them. But it seemed the goddess of luck was on his side. A scuffle broke out behind them and a gunshot sounded. The men cursed and hurried to the scene.

Zoro slipped past the startled group and hid in the shadows of the town's main street. Compared to the red-light district's main road, this one barely had a street light or two, several houses and stores cramped together beside tall apartment complexes and – the swordsman didn't have any qualms about how dark and devoid of life it was in comparison – a few drunk men lying on the streets. Otherwise it was eerily silent and empty. The sounds and noises coming from behind him were the only things that interrupted the deafening silence, and the light that escaped into this part of town were the only things disrupting the blinding darkness.

Zoro picked up his pace as he spotted a medium sized building with a large red plus mark on it. He wondered, when he saw the lights on the second floor were still on. He walked into Amelia's clinic through the back door and slowly ascended the stairs that led to her living quarters. He slid open the unlocked door and stared blankly at the sight before him.

The building was square and not nearly as wide in area as the others surrounding it. So the entrance opened out into the living room-cum-dining hall, with the kitchen counter and washing machine to the far right and a single long table that held a rusty computer and all Amelia's study and research materiel plus stray medicines and bandages and the like to the far left. The dining table was a small round wooden thing that could seat two people. One of the worn out chairs was in front of the computer and on the other one was the doctor. The small table was full of reference books and paper and writing materials. A small plate of some kind of jelly balanced precariously on the edge.

The top half of the woman's body lay sprawled over half the table and the objects on it. The woman held a spoon in her outstretched hand and her glasses were crooked on her nose. Zoro stared at her sleeping face. The doctor was pale and had a constant frown on all the time. Her hands were always flying here and there and she sometimes kept muttering random bits of research stuff to herself. The dark circles and bags under her eyes were like an invaluable part of who she was.

Zoro had almost thought it was a miracle this woman had saved his life. When he had come to, his chest burning and his throat parched, he had found a brown head slouched over the side of his bed, white clad shoulders rising and falling as she muttered in her sleep. He had stared at her head for a long time, stray thoughts coming together in his mind as everything slowly started to fall in place.

He was wondering about what had happened to the cook when she had bolted up right with a sudden yell. Obviously, that had startled the swordsman enough for him to yelp, causing him to move, causing him to cry out in pain – which he found extremely hard with his parched throat. Amelia had then started fawning over him, going on and on about how glad she was that he was finally conscious and that his wounds were healing much faster than she had expected and oh he had lost a lot of blood so he shouldn't move for awhile and oh my goodness she had left the stove on! Zoro had just watched her run out, tripping over her long lab coat and there were several crashes and bangs and swearing. Yes, he really wondered if she had saved his life.

As Zoro continued to stare down at the sleeping form while slipping out of his cloak, the woman stirred and hazy brown eyes blinked at him. He wasn't very surprised when she bolted up and started to blabber random nonsense. He was used to her incoherent babbling during her early wakefulness. He draped the cloak over the back of the other chair and made his way to the lone door at the back of the room. Amelia finally seemed to have found her bearings and was walking towards him.

"Roroan-san! Where had you been?! I nearly went mad looking for you!"

Zoro raised an eyebrow. "There aren't all that many places to go to on this island, now are there."

The woman's eyes flashed and she huffed.

"I told you it was dangerous! What if you got caught again!"

Zoro shrugged and made his way to the bed. He flumped down on it and promptly began to snore. Amelia spluttered in indignation, said a loud 'Mou!' and shut the door behind her.

Zoro opened his eye and stared at the beige ceiling. He replayed his chance meeting with the blond, a frown steadily deepening on his face. He did not want to owe the man. It was his own stupidity that had gotten them into this situation and there was no need for Sanji to be the one to suffer for it. But what had he done other than nearly get himself killed? The blond had thrown away his pride and was kissing some fucker's boots just so he could live to see another sunrise. For what reason? What reason did that stupid curlybrow idiot have to go so far for him?

Because they were Nakama, a voice said in his head. But Zoro found himself wondering if he would do the same for the other had their roles been reversed.

He found with some disgust, that no he would not. He would probably have sliced all of them up had he had his swords, but he would have never done what the blond was doing for him. Zoro scoffed at himself. And he had been the one who had greatly spouted 'Do as the Romans do'. His eyes followed a long crack in the paint as his mind whirred. So he would definitely not do what the blond did. His stomach roiled with disgust and hatred as he imagined what the other man was being subjected to. Did the blond like it? Of course not… right?

And Roronoa Zoro found realization was like a bitch who slapped you across the face and kicked you in the balls for being a complete and utter idiot.

He didn't know, he realized. He didn't know if Sanji liked or disliked it. He didn't know anything about the man. Except that he was an excellent cook, had an intolerable infatuation with beautiful women, whose dream was to find All Blue, was rather strong and an indispensable member of the crew.

Of course Zoro would rather take a million more cuts on his chest and bleed to death than admit any of this to anyone. But that was it. He knew nothing more. He didn't know what the cook liked, what he disliked, nothing. Hell, for all the food Sanji made them, Zoro didn't even know what was the other's favorite. He didn't know what Sanji thought about when he sometimes watched the sunset, a faraway look in his eyes. He didn't know what the cook felt when he watched his Nakama with a crooked smile on his face. He didn't know what the cook wanted when he looked through the windows of stores they passed.

All he knew was that Sanji felt the same normal things that everyone else did in normal situations; he felt the same way about their Nakama and about a particularly strong opponent. Zoro could almost say he completely understood the man from their constant bickering and brawling. But not once did Zoro ever wonder as to what went through the other's mind while they fought. Did he feel the same sense of irritation and frustration yet immense satisfaction at the closeness and the fact that the two could share a fight; he didn't know.

As the swordsman continued to ponder about his knowledge on the blond – or lack of it, another thought struck him. It was like a tub of ice cold water had been poured on his head while he was sleeping. He realized with a jolt that other than the fact that they were Nakama, the two men were literally strangers. If not for the fact that some twisted fate had caused Luffy to force them to join his crew, the two would never have crossed paths.

What reason would a wandering swordsman and a young chef have to meet each other? Their dreams would probably not lead them in the same direction and had they not joined the crew, most likely would have passed by each other without a second glance. Like they passed by any other stranger on any other day. Sanji probably would have thought 'why the hell would someone dye their hair green' and Zoro would have probably thought 'what kind of shitty hairstyle covers one eye and blocks a person's vision', but beyond that, their existences would have meant nothing to the other. A minute later neither would probably recall the other.

So other than the fact that they were Nakama because a certain raven-haired, grinning idiot gave them no other choice, the two were complete strangers. Except for their occasional brawls and name-calling – and maybe certain occasions where they were forced to fight together or close by – he had no form of relationship with the other. He found this fact more shocking than his previous revelation as it led to one single question that made his blood run cold.

If what he thought was true – and he knew it was – what reason did Sanji have to sacrifice himself to such an extent for Zoro?

He ruffled his short spiky hair in frustration, an image of a scantily clad blond flashing through his mind. Why was he going so far? For what reason? What was making him push himself to such an extent? And all for Zoro's sake? Why? The questions were bouncing around in his head, laughing and jeering at him like they were taunting him. Zoro shivered and frowned at the ceiling. He didn't understand these thoughts that were overrunning all other rational ones. He had to know. He needed the answer to his questions. He knew he couldn't go back for a couple of days atleast. He had already caused suspicion. He needed to lay low. He was sure Oberon knew he was alive. But the man was leaving him alone for a reason. Like the blond had said, it was foolish to stick his head into the lion's mouth.

'Though I'm pretty sure even a lion's fangs can't pierce your thick skull,' an overly familiar voice said in his head. Zoro closed his eye and could see the image of the cook, smirking at whatever, a knife pinning it to the wall. And then everything was black….

Sanji woke up to the familiar dark ceiling and the scent of sex. His stomach churned, but he ignored it. His head throbbed, his body ached and his vision swam. He slipped off the bed and stood on shaky feet. He watched with disgust as white semen trickled down his inner thighs. He padded his way to the bathroom, intent on letting the scorching water wash away the filth. But he knew that no matter how clean he washed himself, the filth wouldn't go away.

He noted with some satisfaction that there weren't any new marks on his body, the old ones still healing. He slicked his hair back, cold fingers smoothing shampoo into the strands. Hard, lifeless blue eyes met in the glass, as Sanji stared at his reflection. He couldn't recognize himself anymore. The person staring back at him was some whore who was desperately trying to cling to whatever sanity was left in him. He laughed darkly. He wondered why he was letting these pushovers walk all over him without a second thought. His mind flashed back to certain scenes.

Bartholomew Kuma loomed over Zoro as the man got on his knees and begged.

Zoro standing in a lake of blood, barely alive, barely breathing, so much blood everywhere..

'Absolutely.. nothing.. happened…'

Sanji's blood had run cold at the sight. When the swordsman collapsed, he thought for sure the man was dead. He found himself shouting and screaming, begging the other to hang on, desperately trying to pry open those lifeless bloodshot eyes..

But Sanji never once wanted to replace him. Sure, he thought about 'what if it were me' and 'what if I were dead', but he never actually would have taken Zoro's place. Even as he pushed the other out of the way, his body and mind wanted to run. Even as Zoro smashed his ribs and knocked him out, he felt a sense of relief. Even as he carried the nearly dead Marimo to Chopper, his beating heart was proof that he was alive.

Sanji was a coward. He had valued his life more than his Nakama's. To such an extent, that he almost thanked the stars that it had been Zoro and not him. The blond had turned away his guilt by telling himself that Zoro was stronger and stupider and more reckless, his thick-headedness the reason he could follow through near death stunts.

So that was why he was letting himself become a public cesspit for worthless human beings who fed off their libido like parasites. He could easily burn the place down, tear down the buildings brick by brick and behead every single fucker who stepped onto that street, but no; he chose to suffer the more painful way. An atonement of sorts.

The blond scoffed at himself for such vain thoughts. In the end, he was a coward who was running away from his guilt by losing himself to torture. Actually, he'd much rather be cut open and left to bleed to death than become a public toilet of sorts. His eyes skimmed down his body and his eyes bulged out at a swelling on his left hip. There was a large fancy Z tattooed on his hip, the skin red and tender, veins of blood joining the streams of water as they pooled around his feet. A flash of green passed through his mind before his brain brought up the actual memory.

"What the hell are you doing kussoyaro?! Owowow!"

"Haha, you have very sensitive skin don't you?"

"Stop! Get your hands off-"

"I'm engraving my name on you."

"Why the fuck?!"

"To show people who you belong to."

"I belong to no one asshole!"

"Haha!"

"Don't engrave your fucking name on me!"

And he'd pushed the guy off before he got beyond Z. he was pretty sure the man's name was Zubin. Or was it Zahail? Whatever. It's not like the frickin' tattoo was visible anyway. He brushed the skin and immediately regretted it a jolt of pain shot through him. He sighed. He wondered how long he would survive in this whore hole. His stomach rumbled and whined, reminding him again how little food he had eaten. Finally deciding to do something about it, he slipped into tight black pants, a full sleeved white shirt that had a boat neck and a sleeveless black jacket. Whore or not, his sense of fashion would always remain the same.

Slipping out of the building, he made his way to the end of the red-light district. He could feel several pairs of eyes follow him as he stepped into the normal part of town. Even though it was well past noon, there were barely a few people out on the streets. He walked past the ominous buildings and hungry looks and spotted a small café snuggly fitted between an apartment and a clinic. The bell jingled as he walked in. The smell of food caused his empty stomach to growl and roar like a starved beast and he eyed the menu, not wanting to push his luck by eating something complicated. As he waited at the counter, there was a commotion behind him and someone called his name.

"Prince! It really is you!" Sanji slowly swiveled his head to find the idiot who called out to him. Already people were eyeing him with lusty eyes. His eyebrows shot up as he saw a bespectacled brunette in a white lab coat. Immediately his eyes shot to the person in front of her. Whoever it was, was wearing a hoodie, effectively blocking his face and head from the blond.

"Sir? Your scrambled eggs and bacon."

Sanji took his plate, muttered his thanks and walked towards the doctor.

"Amelia-san, what a pleasant surprise." Even he was revolted by how easily his voice turned smooth and silky and how effortlessly a smirk played on his face. They were sitting by the window, so Sanji pulled up a chair and sprawled himself over it. After exchanging several minutes of pleasantries between each other, the woman turned to look at her companion who hadn't spoken a word. Sanji followed, his neck twisting slowly as he placed his chin on his hand and half closed his eyes. He thanked his ability to look bored and uninterested, and not burst out laughing, because Zoro looked ridiculous.

He was wearing dark pants, some worn out boots, an overly large hoodie that could fit a man twice his size and a ridiculous baseball cap. The hood was pulled over the cap, effectively covering his green hair and most of his face. All that was missing were a pair of glasses that would complete the hipster look.

A pfft escaped the blond's lips and his obvious mirth played across his cerulean eyes. The swordsman just snorted back at him and went back to drinking his coffee. Since when did Marimo drink coffee? Sanji stuffed the eggs and bacon into his mouth and chugged down a glass of lemon tea, hoping his revolting stomach would be beast enough to hold it down. After what seemed like an hour, the trio exited the café – through the back door much to Sanji's surprise – and walked through the back door of the clinic. The blond smacked himself mentally for not relating two and two. Amelia took her leave then, - spluttering something about waiting patients and a long break – and Zoro marched up the stairs that led to the floor above. Sanji followed the man into a small cozy living quarters and watched as the other flopped down on the corner of the worn sofa at the far end of the room. The swordsman propped his boots on top of the tepoy and folded his hands behind his head. Sanji sat on the other side, hands deep in his pockets. An awkward silence stretched between them like a rubber band pulled to its limit. Unable to bear it anymore, the cook began;

"So, you're ok walking around and stuff?"

Zoro grunted in reply. Sanji shrugged.

"You looked like you were in pain yesterday."

Zoro grit his teeth and scowled. Sanji sighed. He suddenly spun to face the other, hands in front of him like he was desperately pleading the man to understand.

"Look I know I was an asshole but-"

"Why?"

Sanji frowned, his mouth still open as he had been abruptly cut off.

"Why? Well because I drank a can of-"

Zoro growled and finally turned to look at the blond. His dark eyes were intense and sharp, like they were trying to cut right through Sanji, straight to his soul.

"Why are you doing this?" The meaning of the question was clear. More obvious than anything else. But Sanji chose to feign ignorance. He shrugged.

"Aren't you the one who said 'Do as the-" Another growl cut him off and Sanji scowled.

"Oi don't fucking ask me questions if you're not gonna let me finish." Zoro shook his head and sighed like as though Sanji was some brat that couldn't understand anything that was being said to him. The blond grabbed the other by the front of his hoodie and pulled him close, their faces inches apart.

"What's your problem huh? You think just because you made it out of that whore hole you're all fine and dandy but now I'm some pathetic sex slave who can't do nothing but fuck and get fucked?" He was hissing by the end and he could feel his face grow hot from anger. What pissed him off more was the indifferent expression on the other man's face as those eyes burned into Sanji.

"..You haven't smoked recently." The simple change of topic completely deflated the cook. His shoulders sagged and a huff of breath left him, but he didn't let go of the other.

"Ran out."

"You can buy them now."

"Half the stores are closed."

"True."

"You look like shit Marimo."

"Don't wanna hear that from you ero-cook."

"Haah?! Are you insulting this fashion genius' taste in clothes?!"

"I wasn't talking about your clothes." Zoro said softly and raised a hand to flick a stray strand of blond hair off of the other's face. Sanji's eyes widened and his breath caught. Something inside him broke at the simple yet warm gesture. Something completely unlike Zoro, but felt absolutely right, at the moment. He ducked his head and grit his teeth, refusing to let the other see his weak side. But he couldn't stop his clenched fist from trembling and his knuckles from turning white. A broad hand ruffled his hair and stayed on his head, the warmth seeping through Sanji's cold body like a newly lit fire. There were several unspoken reasons and reactions behind the small act.

Zoro owed the man his life. It was the least he could do for all the suffering the cook's sacrifice was putting him through. He sympathized but didn't pity. It was a dignified act of a man's honour.

Sanji felt the gesture bring to the forefront his crushing guilt. He felt disgusted at how weak and how much of a coward he was. He knew Zoro felt anything but pity towards him. Yet that was what fuelled his sense of disgust towards himself. The moment of closeness the two shared seemed surreal compared to how they normally couldn't tolerate the other's existence. This whole situation seemed surreal. Just the two of them, completely alone, on some dismal island swarming with people who lived and breathed sex, with no hope of escape, he wondered if any other situation would have led to the one they were in. He was sure none would. He would never let a stupid moss ball comfort him. He'd much rather it be Nami or Robin- his heart ached at the thought of his Nakama.

He pulled away and retreated to his side of the couch, effectively shattering the moment that would never come to repeat itself. Zoro returned to his previous position, with his hands behind his head. They lapsed back into silence and this time Sanji didn't want to break the ice.

"Oi. What you said about having to buy you-"

"Don't even think about it Marimo. I ain't gonna stick my ass out for you." Sanji found himself smirking at the familiar glare.

"I meant, is it applicable to during the day?" Zoro scratched his head, deep in thought. Sanji raised an eyebrow as he understood the meaning of the other's question. He nodded slowly.

"I guess so. Don't think they'll mind the extra cash." Zoro nodded, fished in his pocket and pulled out a wad of notes. Sanji eyed them warily.

"Take it, ero-cook. Bet your stalkers aren't going to leave any time soon and you might have to bribe them on your way back."

"Where'd you get this?" Sanji asked, voice thin, as he pocketed the cash carefully. Zoro grunted. Sanji shrugged. Not that he cared. He sighed and stood up. He ran a hand through his hair and came to stand in front of Zoro.

"Cameras?" he mumbled, lips barely moving, but sure that the other had heard. Zoro hummed, the deep sound reverberating between them and sending shivers down the blond's spine. Zoro was still looking at him with that intense, burning gaze and for some reason Sanji was finding it hot.

'All the sex slave shit must've really gotten to me if I'm getting turned on by a Marimo ball piece of shit swordsman.'

Sanji raised a leg and placed it on the other side of Zoro's. he stepped forward and eyed the man below him, waiting for a reaction. Confusion flitted through Zoro's one good eye and a growl ripped itself from his down turned mouth. His eyes became hooded, and darkened dangerously – like a wild beast's, as it laid eyes on its prey. Sanji started when the swordsman hooked two fingers in the front of Sanji's pants and pulled the other towards him. He yelped ungracefully, as he clutched the back of the sofa, hands on either side of Zoro's head, their faces an inch apart. Blue eyes flashed against dark gun-metal ones, as the two men leaned into the kiss.

At first, it was just hot lips pressed against thin cold ones. But then Sanji's tongue darted out and they were devouring each other, fighting for dominance, vying to come out on top. Sanji lost, his awkward position over Zoro causing him to shift uncomfortably and lose concentration. Zoro growled with satisfaction into the blond's mouth, the sound ripping itself from the depths of his throat, causing the other to shiver again. Sanji tried to move but found Zoro's grip on his pants unbreakable. He sighed and resigned himself to his fate.

As he shut his eyes, his mind shut itself down and was replaced by his animal like instincts. When he turned off all rational thought, his body moved on it's own, craving and needing like a man deprived of the basic necessity of a human being: the craving for sexual pleasure. He felt his consciousness float away, overridden by instinct and the need for survival that complied with the need to escape through sexual release. He found his trademark smirk stretch on his face, as he gave himself up to his twisted fate.

Zoro watched with alarm as the light of life slowly dimmed from those cerulean orbs, leaving behind a ghost of it's former self, a shadow of what it used to be. He found the cook's body leaning in, settling on his lap, arms twisting around him, hands knotting in his hair, hips grinding together. Zoro wrenched himself away from Sanji and threw the man on the couch.

The blond was paler than usual. He looked so fragile, like one touch and he would shatter into a million pieces. His lips were parted and panting for breath, his golden locks framing his thin face, his blue eyes had turned dark and murky. He was a shadow of his former self. The damage on the man was far worse than anything Zoro had imagined. A lump formed in his throat as the blond raised his arms, as though begging for the other.

What had he done? How could he have let this man, who he saw as someone strong enough to stand up to him, break down into this pathetic wreck lying under him. A whimper broke free from Sanji's lips and Zoro found his chest clenching painfully. The state the other man was in, could not be reversed without satisfying him of his needs. If Zoro didn't fuck Sanji senseless, he would remain a broken shell of the proud man he once was. Zoro cursed loudly, his eye flashing angrily. Is this how every one of those sex slaves ended up? As mindless sex machines that completely shut down and lived only for pleasure? Is this what Sanji had become? And if so, was the damage irreversible? An image of a smirking blond pinned to the wall with a knife flashed through his mind and he knew what to do. If fucking Sanji was the only way to bring him out of whatever hole he'd drowned himself in, Zoro would do whatever it took to save him. After all, a life for a life, and a debt to repay.

A/n: Well I can't help it, but I get a high on torturing these two 3 -evil maniacal laughter-

Well Review, favorite and Follow!

Sneak peak at next week's chapter: The newly forming relationship between the green-haired swordsman and the golden-haired cook is something of confusion and frustration for the two. Is it just the guilt, the need to repay a dept and/or the need to atone for their mistakes that are pushing them to that extent, or is it something completely different, that neither are expecting or anticipating? How will Sanji deal with his life as a sex slave and what will Zoro do to find a means of escape and a way to save the blonde from the depths of despair? Stay tuned~

Love~