Warnings for blood, violence, m/m, and mentions of cannibalism.
Zoro rolled his hips, thrusting deep into the body below him. Sanji let out a pained whimper when Zoro slammed into him, but Zoro hardly relented his pace. He slammed repeatedly into the tight space, knowing he was being too rough, knowing he was causing Sanji a fair amount of pain to overshadow his pleasure, but still he continued.
Sanji cried out with the next thrust and twisted his head to look at Zoro over his shoulder. Pained whines and cried poured from his lips and tears filled his eyes, but his gaze reflected only love and adoration for the man causing him such pain.
The look shot fear into Zoro's system. He couldn't have that. He reached out, fingers threading through golden strands before yanking them roughly. Sanji cried out again, but Zoro ignored him, instead using his hold in the blond hair to force the man's head down. Sanji dropped from his hands, allowing his face to be smashed into the mattress beneath him as Zoro doubled the speed and force of his thrusts until he came, spilling deep inside his lover.
Sanji whimpered, imploring Zoro with his eyes to help him as Zoro pulled out and turned to make for the bathroom. Zoro ignored the plea, needing to be clean as soon as possible, and Sanji was left to finish himself off with his hand alone.
When Zoro returned, Sanji was already curled up beneath their comforter, his eyes closed and his breathing even. Zoro sighed in relief, sliding under the covers beside him. He pulled him close, one arm hooked around his waist to keep them pressed together, and the movement seemed to rouse Sanji enough for the blond to roll over to face him.
"I'm sorry," Zoro mumbled, pressing his face into the crook of Sanji's neck.
Sanji's hands came up, one threading through Zoro's hair and the other rubbing tension from his shoulders.
"It's okay," Sanji assured him. His voice was warm and loving, reassuring Zoro that Sanji held no anger towards him. "Are you okay?"
Zoro nodded once into Sanji's shoulder.
"Good," Sanji spoke softly. "Then let's get some sleep."
It wasn't long after that that Zoro could feel the hands working at his shoulders still and the fingers wrapped into his hair lost their grip. He could hear Sanji's heart rate slow, and feel the blond's body relax. But even long after Sanji had fallen asleep, Zoro laid awake, tangled in his embrace.
Sanji was a blessing in Zoro's life. Before he'd stumbled into the blond, his life had been empty. There were others before, lovers Zoro felt enough affection towards to spare, people he'd let into his life. None of them were lasting though; no one was as tolerant of Zoro's hobbies as Sanji was. They came to fear him, and when they did he could no longer keep them.
Sanji was more than just tolerant; he found a use for Zoro's kills, he welcomed each new body, and he indulged in the same fantasies as Zoro. He was patient, loving, and warm, traits Zoro had once given up on ever finding in another person. In a sense, Sanji was his other half. They worked in harmony, creating a perfect balance between them, and neither was complete without the other.
In a word, Sanji was perfect.
Lately, however, Zoro had been feeling the rising need to kill. Of course he'd given in to that desire, coming home with more bodies this month than Sanji knew what to do with. No matter how many he killed though, he wasn't satisfied. Something else was eating at him, some other desire.
It didn't take long to pin point the reason. He could feel it every time Sanji smiled at him, every time they embraced, and every time he could feel Sanji's presence nearby. Sanji was a light in his life, and something deep inside of him, the part of him that was more monster than man, wanted to see that light extinguished.
Of course Zoro couldn't do that. The very idea of killing Sanji repulsed him as much as it satisfied the monster with in. The idea of ending the blond's life and staring down at his lifeless body was equally horrifying and appealing.
Zoro nuzzled closer to the blond, inhaling the sweet smell of his skin. He felt warm and comforted, like the nightmares of his world didn't exist. With Sanji, he was never alone, no matter how horrible he may be. With Sanji, there was always a reason to come home, and in fact because of Sanji there was a place to call home now. He wasn't simply surviving, floating through his days with only his kills for any source of company. He had lived for each kill, and the time in between was something hazy and undefined. With Sanji in his life now, he had another reason to be happy.
But with every day that went by, the monster inside of him grew more and more restless, desperate for Sanji's blood. He wasn't sure he could contain it forever, already it was trying to take control, trying to hurt Sanji whenever possible. How much longer would it be before it took over entirely? It had happened before, the monster had taken over his body, and when Zoro returned to consciousness the mess he was surrounded with had made even him sick to his stomach. What would happen to Sanji when that time came?
No, Zoro's mind roared in indignation, not Sanji. He needed Sanji. Sanji wasn't like the others. The others had been nice, for a time, and Zoro had been at least a little sorry to see them go. They weren't as special to him though, and he grew tired of them. So when they were gone, he only felt slightly bad about it.
None of them were even close to Sanji. None of them fit him like Sanji.
It was a long time until his mind was finally relaxed enough to sleep. He was afraid to sleep, afraid of what would happen when his consciousness faded, but he couldn't avoid it forever. He could only hope that being wrapped up in Sanji's arms would put his body enough at ease to keep the monster at bay.
Sanji hummed while he worked, separating the muscle from the flesh and bone, sectioning it off by part, and wrapping it up in air tight packages. He labeled them neatly before turning to slide them into the freezer.
He sighed when he opened the freezer and looked inside. It was packed full with various packages of meat, all nearly identical to the ones in his hands. He wouldn't be fitting any more in here. Fortunately, they kept a chest freezer in the garage for this very reason.
Sanji continued humming his song as he made this way through the house to the connected garage. He struggled a moment with the doorknob, trying to balance the stack of meat in one hand as he did so. Finally having managed to get it open, he pushed into the garage and made his way over to the freezer.
He kicked the freezer open with one leg, and peered inside. It was more than half full itself, and while there would be plenty of room for today's haul of meat, there wouldn't be much more room beyond that. Certainly not enough for Zoro to bring home another body.
Sanji sighed, stacking the meat in his hands neatly inside before giving the freezer a considering look. Zoro had been bringing home a new body every day this week. Sanji never said no to the fresh meat, but he was starting to get concerned. It wasn't like Zoro to kill so often, he was usually selective about his victims, and planned their deaths out carefully. After all, the act of killing was the fun of it, and Zoro savored his planning as much as he savored the actual murder.
Lately though, it seemed Zoro's killings were spontaneous. Unplanned and at random, and they were happening so often Sanji wondered what was happening to Zoro that he would feel the need to kill without his usual attention to details.
That wasn't the only strange thing about Zoro lately. He seemed distant, much colder than the man Sanji had fallen in love with. Zoro was attentive and sweet most of the time, but lately it seemed he was avoiding Sanji. Not on the surface of course; Zoro still went through their usual routines when he came home from work. But in their moments when they would usually be more intimate and close, Sanji could feel Zoro close a part of himself off. It was colder than Sanji was used to from the usually warm and caring Zoro.
Something was wrong, but when Sanji asked, Zoro assured him he was fine. Whatever was bothering his marimo, it wasn't something Zoro felt inclined to share. Sanji's feelings might have been hurt by the fact Zoro didn't feel like talking to him, but that pain was completely overshadowed by Sanji's worry. He was worried about Zoro, and afraid he wouldn't be able to help.
With no clue as to what might be wrong with Zoro and no idea how to go about helping the other man, Sanji resolved to be patient and supportive, and to watch for any opportunity to find out what might be bothering his lover.
The house smelled divine when Zoro stepped inside. It always did, ever since Sanji came along, but on a day like today when the temperature had dropped outside and the wind was sharp with the smell of oncoming snow, the smell was more welcome than ever.
The house was warm and the savory smell of cooking meat and potatoes warmed Zoro up instantly. He would miss this when it was gone.
It wasn't that he planned to lose Sanji, in fact he was still fighting tooth and nail to prevent that from happening, but the voice in his head grew louder every day. The primal need to kill Sanji was stronger today than it ever had been before, and the monster he had been fighting with was steadily darkening his vision.
This was the one enemy he had never been able to beat, and try as he might, he was failing again. At this rate, he really would lose Sanji.
The thought sent a stab of pain through his chest that was sharp enough to clear his vision again, if only for a little while. Still, it was enough to see by as he made his way into the kitchen where he had no doubts he'd find the blonde chef hard at work.
Sanji was standing at the counter slicing up vegetables to go along with their meal. He wore his apron as always. It was far more stained now than it had been when Sanji first came to live with him. Back then it had been a simple blue apron, and now it was spotted and splashed with dark brown stains that had once been the blood of some of Zoro's victims.
It hadn't taken Sanji long to realize that wearing the apron or not his clothes would get bloody, and he'd given up on wearing it altogether when he was butchering the bodies. He had always liked to have it on when he was preparing their meals, but it spent more time in the laundry covered in blood than not, and now he saved it strictly for when he was cooking. Butchering he did in his pajamas.
The knife Sanji was using wasn't overly long, but it was sharp. It sliced through the vegetables in Sanji's hands like it was cutting through air, and Zoro watched mesmerized as Sanji dragged it through each slice. It wouldn't be much for stabbing but it would be wonderful for slashing…cutting through the skin and biting into the veins and arteries beneath…deep gashes that would bleed endlessly…until the body crumbled…and the heart stopped from the lack of blood…
"Oh! You're home!" Sanji exclaimed, pulling Zoro from his darkening mind. "Dinner's not quite ready yet."
Zoro shook his head, hoping to clear away the rest of the fog from his brain. "It smells great," he commented moving further into the kitchen, giving the air another experimental whiff.
"Of course it does," Sanji smiled cockily. "It's made by me after a-ah!" His bragging was put to an abrupt end by and exclamation of pain. He hissed and dropped the knife, bringing his other hand up to cover his thumb. "Shit," he cursed, wincing as he inspected the wound.
"Are you okay?" Zoro asked, taking a started step closer, eyebrows knitting in concern.
"I'm fine," Sanji assured him, moving his hand over to the sink. "It's just a cut. I feel a little stupid, maybe. Just when I had opened my big mouth…"
But Zoro was no longer listening to Sanji's lament. He'd been thoroughly distracted by the blood filling the cupped palm of Sanji's good hand, spilling between the fine crevices of his fingers, and trailing softly down the back of Sanji's hand.
"Damn it's deep," Sanji sighed, inspecting his wound under the light above the sink. "I wonder if it would need stitches. I guess a hospital is kind of out of the question though, huh?"
It was then that Sanji realized Zoro wasn't listening to him. Zoro hated hospitals, and the mere mention of one was usually enough to get a rise out of the man. On the rare occasions that Zoro sustained an injury from one of his victims, it was usually Sanji who patched him up. If the victim was a real fighter and the injury was more serious there was exactly one doctor that went by the name of Law that Zoro allowed to stitch him up or give him drugs. Sanji was fairly sure Law didn't have a proper medical license, but if he helped Zoro then Sanji couldn't complain.
The lack of response to Sanji's hospital statement was alarming enough for the cook to turn around and look at Zoro properly. He hadn't moved since Sanji had cut himself. He stood exactly in place, his eyes trained carefully on the gash on Sanji's thumb. Instead of concern, however, Zoro was fixing Sanji's thumb with an unidentifiable look; some kind of mixture between rage and desire that darkened Zoro's already dark eyes until they were lightless and blackened.
Sanji moved his hand, just slightly, and watched as Zoro's eyes followed its movement like a hunter tracking its prey.
"Zoro?" He called, hoping to rouse Zoro out of his trance, but to no avail. His lover's eyes only left the wound on his hand long enough to follow the progress of a drop of blood that landed with a splat into the sink.
There was something not quite Zoro in the predatory stare, or at least not quite Zoro the way Sanji was used to seeing him. Sanji wondered briefly if this was the Zoro that the green haired man's victims saw right before they fell by his hands. The thought entered his mind for barely a moment before Sanji realized he was probably in trouble here.
Zoro's eyes had moved from his hand to the knife on the counter a few feet away, and Sanji didn't miss the movement. He recognized the intent in Zoro's eyes; he'd seen flashes of it more and more often in the past week. Suddenly, Zoro's behavior lately made perfect sense, and Sanji felt horrible for not having realized it sooner.
Zoro moved for the knife an instant before Sanji reacted, but Sanji was closer and quicker and managed to snatch it up before the larger man could get to it. Not that Sanji's body being in the way was going to prevent Zoro from trying to get what he wanted.
The full force of Zoro's weight slammed against him, crushing him between the kitchen counter and the wall of muscle that made up his lover's body. Sanji let out a pained shout, but kept enough presence of mind to keep the knife held out of reach. Zoro was grabbing for it blindly; coordination and skill lost in his current state.
"Zoro," Sanji growled, trying to keep his voice as menacing as possible to not to betray his pain or the slight hint of fear he felt. With one arm braced against the other man's chest, he tried to hold him off as best as possible. "Listen to me for a second you shitty bastard."
Sanji managed to create enough space between them to maneuver his leg, just enough to slam his heel down onto Zoro's toes. The green haired man hissed, reeling backwards a bit from the pain and giving Sanji a chance to breathe from a moment. His left side hurt, and he was sure he'd have a nasty bruise in the shape of their kitchen counter tomorrow. The pain was manageable though and he had far bigger things to worry about right now.
Zoro was regaining his composure, and Sanji could see the spark of irritation in his eye, however brief, before he looked down to his smashed toes. Zoro was still in there, though not entirely in control at the moment.
Zoro had tried to explain it to Sanji once, the reason he killed people. It was not really a form of sick pleasure, though Zoro did enjoy it quite a bit, but more of a method of keeping something at bay. There was something inside of Zoro that demanded blood, and by killing people Zoro had managed to keep that something at bay.
Sanji hadn't really understood it at the time, but now that he was standing face to face with those darkened, hungry eyes, he finally got it. Zoro had been battling that inner demon for some time now, that was why he'd been so cold and distant lately. He hadn't wanted to worry Sanji, and so he'd kept it to himself. Now it seemed he'd lost that battle.
Sanji wondered why. It wasn't as if Zoro hadn't been killing plenty lately. They had more meat than Sanji knew what to do with at the moment thanks to Zoro's constant kills. So why was Zoro's inner self not happy with that?
He remembered the way Zoro's eyes had changed when Sanji had cut himself. As if the blood had triggered the release of the monster. Not just any blood, Sanji's blood. That was why no matter how many people brought home, Zoro never seemed completely at ease. He wasn't satisfied, he needed a specific body, a specific person's blood.
Sanji's body. Sanji's blood.
The realization hit Sanji like a ton of bricks. He was the reason Zoro had been so tormented lately, and the reason Zoro was not in control of himself right now. He felt horrible for not realizing it sooner, for not finding some way to help his marimo before it was too late. Now he was too late to do anything.
Zoro was over his shock about the pain in his foot and was advancing on Sanji again. He was moving slowly, apparently in no rush at the moment. That frightened Sanji more than anything, if Zoro was in no hurry it meant he was confident he would get Sanji eventually. Sanji was by no means weak, but he wasn't sure he could commit himself to hurting Zoro, least of all in the state he was currently in, and that inhibited his ability to fight back greatly.
Sanji had two options. He could let Zoro have him; let the green haired hunter murder him and thereby set Zoro free. Surely the thing inside Zoro would release him, letting him come to his own senses again. But for how long? It was obvious this monster was always lurking just beneath the surface. Killing Sanji might release Zoro from its control, but it wouldn't vanish entirely.
He didn't really want to die though. He would gladly do it if it meant he could free Zoro, but he wasn't sure it would actually do anything, and he would only be hurting Zoro in the long run once the other man came to his senses and saw what he had done. No, Sanji didn't like the idea of dying. Not yet, not without at least trying something else first.
His other option was to run. He could flee, leave town and disappear. It wouldn't have been the first time he'd done that. It wasn't exactly the same, but he had enough experience to know exactly how to go about doing it. Certainly he knew enough to escape Zoro, no matter how unquestionably skilled the other man was at tracking down his prey.
But the thought of leaving Zoro behind permanently hurt as badly as he was sure any torture Zoro could bestow on him would. It was selfish, maybe, to want to stay despite how horribly he was affecting Zoro. Maybe if he left, Zoro would eventually forget about him; the beast inside of him would quiet, and both Sanji's and Zoro's lives could continue on. Leaving meant never seeing Zoro again though, and Sanji hated that idea. Zoro was special to him in ways that Sanji had never felt from another person before. After years of distrusting people and keeping them away from his innermost emotions, he'd finally found someone worthy of his affections. Losing Zoro meant living alone again, with friends that barely scratched the surface of who he was. Surrounded by people he could never care about.
Zoro was within reaching distance now, and Sanji's decision had to be made or Zoro would be making it for him. His brain panicked, flying through his options in the hope that one would stand out as the correct choice.
His hand flinched involuntarily when Zoro's hand reached out and tugged sharply as Sanji's hair. The grip he had on the knife startled him back into realization. Maybe there was another option; maybe he wasn't doomed to leave Zoro in one form or another.
Quickly, not giving himself time to think or Zoro time to move, Sanji pressed the blade of the knife against the flesh of his shoulder. In one clean slice he dragged it down, over his collar bone and only stopped when the blade ran into the collar of his shirt. It was relatively painless, a simple stinging burn as the flesh parted before settling into an odd sort of sensation. Not painful, just strange, and Sanji was grateful that he always kept his knives as sharp as possible.
Blood welled up quickly in the wound, spilling over and staining a path down his shirt and apron. It was disappointing to have ruined another shirt, but Zoro paused in his movement and Sanji knew he'd made the right decision.
"If you want my blood, you can have it," Sanji said to Zoro, an inviting smile on his face. "On the condition that I'm the one that gets to draw it, fair enough?" Sanji waved the knife in front of Zoro to show he meant it. In truth, Zoro was in the perfect position to take the knife from Sanji and run it through him is he so wished. Sanji could only hope his offering of blood was appealing enough to prevent that from happening.
Zoro watched the blood pouring from Sanji's shoulder with a sense of wonder. He still wasn't himself, Sanji could see it in his eyes, but there was something about the look of awe on his face that was distinctly Zoro.
Sanji hardly had time to react before Zoro was on him. For one tense second Sanji thought Zoro would do exactly what Sanji worried he would. But Zoro didn't grab for the knife at all. Instead his hands fisted into Sanji's shirt on either side of his waist and his head fell into the space between Sanji's neck and his shoulder.
For a moment Zoro only took deep breaths. Sanji thought perhaps the other man was trying to regain control of himself, but he then realized Zoro was smelling him. Not just him, he was sniffing at the blood on Sanji's shoulder, deep intakes of breath that seemed to make him very happy.
Zoro moved closer to the wound, his tongue darting out to sample the flavor. He hummed with satisfied approval and made to taste some more. Sanji winced as the green haired man's tongue found the gash in his skin. Zoro lapped at it, licking up at the blood that had already spilled from it, tonguing the space between the broken skin.
Sanji hissed as Zoro's tongue worked into the cut he had made. It hurt now that Zoro was playing with it. But his idea was working; Zoro seemed satisfied with his offering, at least for now.
Zoro cleaned the wound thoroughly, and when he was finished he stood back with a kind of disappointment written in his expression, like a child that lost their favorite toy. The blood flow from the cut had slowed, it was clotting already. Sanji sighed with some relief as Zoro stepped back. The slice on his shoulder continued to throb and ache, but the torment of Zoro's tongue had eased for the moment.
Sanji took a moment to observe Zoro. He wasn't entirely present still, but the madness inside of him seemed to be placated slightly and if Sanji looked closely he could see a spark of light in the other man's eyes that was entirely Zoro.
Sanji undid the knot on his apron, pulling the fabric over his head, all while carefully keeping his eye on Zoro. He couldn't be sure when the other man would snap again, or that the effects of Sanji's blood would wear off before Sanji could make another move. He wasn't going to let Zoro kill him, he'd decided, not if there was such an easy alternative.
Zoro didn't move, he just observed. He watched as Sanji pulled the apron and then the sweater beneath over his head. He admired the trail of blood that had run down under the shirt, still staining the pale skin a deep red. Sanji couldn't help but shiver under the other man's gaze. It was disturbing, but desirous; the way Zoro might look at him in the heat of sex.
With his apron and sweater out of the way Sanji brought the knife to his skin once more. He drew one line with the blade across the top of his chest, just above his heart, gritting his teeth against the pain. It hurt more now, in a more sensitive area, but he could handle this pain. Again he moved the knife, drawing a second line down his side, the blade rising and falling over the ridges of his ribs.
The slight grunt that the second cut pulled from him seemed to catch Zoro's attention even more so than rivulets of blood coming from the wounds themselves. Interest sparked in his eyes when Sanji made the sound, and Sanji shuddered to think Zoro probably enjoyed his pain.
Finishing the second slice, Sanji pulled the knife away and fixed Zoro with a steady stare.
"It's all yours," He offered.
It was dark. Really dark. Much darker than any darkness Zoro had ever experienced before. He didn't like it, he knew it was wrong, but something about the darkness clouded his thoughts, making him forget why it was wrong, convincing him is was okay to stay. It was comfortable here, after all, and safe. Despite it being too dark to see anything, he knew he was safe here.
A voice seemed to break through the darkness, breaking the deafening silence. It was unintelligible, the words were lost in the echoing space but the sound was so familiar. It roused something in Zoro; stirred up a feeling he couldn't quite identify. Something about the voice seemed to call to him, but he couldn't remember why.
It smelled like blood. That was strange. He didn't remember the smell being there before, but suddenly it filled his safe place. It smelled so strongly he could taste the coppery tang of it every time he swallowed. He wondered where it came from, a sense of panic jolting him when he realized it could be his own. He didn't feel pain though, just the smell.
A light pierced the dark abyss, and even though it was dimmed by the shadows it still stung Zoro's eyes after so long in the dark. He squinted, trying to find its source. It seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere all at once. Zoro wanted it. He wanted to follow it, hoping it would lead him out of this endless darkness. It no longer felt safe here, and the feeling that something was wrong welled up in him again, wrenching at his gut almost painfully. He needed to find the source of light.
Sensation seemed to return to him in steady increments. The comfortable warmth of the kitchen against his bare skin, the soft light of the lamp above the sink, the hard press of the tile against his knees, the smell and taste of blood overwhelming his senses.
He found himself sheathed inside of Sanji, his punishing pace never relenting despite the fact that he only just realized what he was doing. Sanji's face was pressed against the tile, his body limp as Zoro pounded into it. Zoro's hands on Sanji's hips seemed to be the only thing keeping the blonde from collapsing entirely. Blood formed small pools on the tile below Sanji's body, and deep reddened gashes ran the length of his torso.
He's dead, Zoro thought in agony. He'd done it again, even though he'd fought so hard not to. He'd killed the most important person in his life. Sanji was dead.
Despite the painful cries of sorrow in his mind, his body worked automatically, jerking his hips forward and deep into the blonde's body. Sanji's head shot up and he cried out, a startled sound that was a combined mixture of pleasure and pain.
Sanji was alive.
"Sanji," Zoro groaned, his body tensing in pleasure. No matter how confused his mind still was, he was going to come whether he liked it or not.
"Zoro?" Sanji asked, his head turning to face Zoro.
Sanji's eyes were glazed with lust but alert, and more importantly alive. He looked at Zoro with relief and shared a small smile before Zoro drove into him again and his jaw dropped as he released a shaky moan.
Deciding to worry about the details later, Zoro continued to work himself inside the blond, thrusting in and out and building himself up so orgasm. Sanji was growing more vocal by the minute. The blond reached down, taking his own cock in his hand and jerking it in time with Zoro's thrusts.
The vision of Sanji, bloody, abused, and still at the height of pleasure sent Zoro over the edge. Sanji followed almost immediately after, shouting Zoro's name over and over and settling Zoro's frayed nerves.
Zoro pulled out, collapsing onto the tile next to Sanji, and Sanji followed suit. He let his body fall, dimly aware that he was now laying a mixture of his own blood and come on the cold kitchen floor. His body ached from the slices he'd carved into it and from Zoro's rough mistreatment before he had come to.
After Sanji's invitation, Zoro hadn't wasted any time licking and sucking every drop of blood he could get from Sanji's body. Once he'd thoroughly cleaned the last wound he'd thrown Sanji to the floor, making quick work of the rest of their clothes before slamming into Sanji without warning and without holding back.
None of that mattered at the moment though. He was distracted by Zoro now, the Zoro who lay on his back next to him, still breathing hard but looking at Sanji with clear eyes tinged with relief and concern.
"You're back," Sanji grinned.
"I'm back," Zoro nodded, casting a sorrowful glance down Sanji's body. His fingers reached out, tracing one of the cuts on Sanji's side. Sanji hissed quietly through his teeth and Zoro's hand retracted with a startled jerk.
"What did I do?" Zoro asked sorrowfully.
"You didn't do anything," Sanji smirked. "As if I'd let you. I did this to myself."
Zoro's eyes widened in surprise and he looked down at the gash on the blonde's side again. It was a clean cut, precise and practiced, the way only Sanji could cut. Zoro was never so careful with his victims; the idea was to draw as much blood as possible, it didn't have to be neat and clean.
"How do you feel?" Sanji asked, ignoring the way Zoro was staring at his cut. He was fortunate that he was laying on his stomach at the moment. Each of his cuts stung and burned, but they were hidden from the Zoro's sight.
Zoro looked back to Sanji's eyes, truly appreciating the fire he could see burning in them, the spark of life that ignited behind the blue orbs.
"Relieved," Zoro admitted. "I thought I'd killed you."
Sanji scoffed sitting up and maneuvering carefully. He hated to let Zoro catch sight of his chest, but he needed a cigarette badly.
Zoro's gaze fell on the pattern of cuts that covered Sanji from shoulder to hip. They were red, irritated, and looked painful, but it was clear they had all been caused by Sanji himself. Sanji did that to himself in order to please Zoro's inner monster…
"He'll come back, you know," Zoro said quietly, sitting up as well. "He's gone for now but he'll come back one day. This might happen again."
Sanji took a drag of his cigarette, seeming to consider that for a moment before smiling at Zoro. His smile was blazing with confidence and Zoro wondered how he managed it.
"He wasn't so hard to handle," Sanji smirked. "When this happens again, I'll take care of it."
Zoro was relieved, Sanji wasn't leaving him because of this, wouldn't leave him even if it happened again. He was happy, and reached out to pull the blond closer to him, relishing in the warmth of their contact. He could never be happier than he was with Sanji.
Deep in his gut though, something dark welcomed the challenge in Sanji's words.
A/N: Zoro's "monster" probably isn't literally a monster. It's more of a mental thing.