A/N: Thanks to all the lovely people who left reviews and also to those who didn't but took the time to read the story~! Just a warning, this chapter contains explicit sexual scenes towards the end, which you can skip if you don't like that kind of stuff. Just as a warning, this was the very first time I've ever written any explicit smut, so there are some pretty cringe-worthy parts. Sorry about that. Sometimes I think about changing it, but again, the story has already been posted. To put it into perspective, this is the first story I ever, ever wrote, even before all the One Shots I've posted. So yeah...it gets better, I promise.
On Thursday, Chopper stays with Kobato again. Chopper really likes the older girl, and Kobato is in awe of Chopper's adorableness. Zoro is sure the two will be great friends, more so now that classes start in less than two months.
He leaves his home at five though the fight isn't supposed to start until eight. His foresight proves to be correct when the streets move on his way over and he wastes a couple of hours trying to find his way back to Mock Town. When he arrives, he's stopped by a curly-haired man he has seen Luffy fight a couple of times. The man introduces himself as Lucci, Robin's assistant, and leads him to one of the private rooms in the back where the black-haired woman is waiting for him.
"Good evening, Mr. Roronoa," she greets him. She's standing in the middle of the room, a glass of wine held in her small hand. "I'm very happy to see you."
"Yeah, whatever. So, when is my fight starting?" Zoro growls, squeezing Kitetsu as he feels the sharp jab of bloodlust the sword lets out. Robin's gaze falls to it.
"In a couple of minutes. Black Leg arrived just moments before you. He's getting ready as you speak. I just want to make sure our deal still holds."
"Yeah, yeah. Kill the guy, hand you his head on a stick. Anything else?"
"That would be it." Robin's smile is amused, but her eyes are sharp. "Good luck, Mr. Roronoa. You'll need it."
Zoro scoffs and leaves. He has met a couple of opponents in the ring that have tested his skills though none that have defeated him yet. Zoro has only experienced defeat twice in his life: the first against his best rival, and the second in the hands of the world's best swordsman, Mihawk.
He makes his way to the pit's entrance, waiting for the announcer to call his name. He can hear the people outside cheering and yelling, eager to see violence and blood, but blocks them out.
This is the biggest fight of his life. It will change everything. If he kills this man, all of his problems will be solved. He can go a whole fucking year without paying Crocodile and the fucker won't even be able to say anything. He can finally get his life together, get himself out of the shithole he dug for himself all those years ago. He can climb his way up to Sanji's level and become his equal. He will finally be able to offer Chopper something more than scraps.
He grabs his bandana and ties it around his head as the announcer yells out his epithet, some stupid shit his friend Johnny gave him during his first fight. He walks forward, the bright lights momentarily blinding him until he's at the center of the ring, facing his opponent.
"Zoro?"
Zoro takes a step back, shock numbing his body. Sanji stands in front of him, dressed in his usual black suit, the smooth fabric pulled taut around his wide shoulders and firm ass. His hair is styled like usual, parted to reveal that stupid curly eyebrow that Zoro will never admit he actually finds attractive. A cigarette is held between the index and middle finger, forgotten as the cook gazes back at him in surprise.
"Zoro? What the hell are you doing here? Holy shit, are you—are you the Demon?"
He has to kill Sanji. He looks down at the cook's legs—the same ones he imagined wrapped around his waist so many times—and at the black clothing hiding them from sight. Black Leg. He has to kill Sanji. There is no other way. Chopper is more important than the cook, more important than anyone.
He has to kill Black Leg.
"Zoro, are you listening to me, you shitty moss? I'm talking to—!"
Zoro strikes suddenly with Kitetsu, the dark sword crying out in glee as it's finally given the opportunity to draw blood. Sanji is surprised, but he reacts quickly, bringing up a leg to block the sword.
Zoro is surprised when Kitetsu doesn't slice through the leg. The cook must be stronger than he looks. He remembers the perfect kick he delivered to Ivankov, a member of the Revolutionary Army. Yes, Sanji is strong. It won't do him well to underestimate him.
"What the hell is wrong with you, marimo?!" Sanji yells, jumping back. "Are you trying to kill me?"
Zoro draws Yubashiri in lieu of an answer, instantly falling into another attack.
"Fine, then, you stupid moss," Sanji yells. "You wanna fight? I'll give you a fight!"
He blocks Kitetsu with his right leg, twisting his body away to evade Yubashiri. Zoro's eyes widen in grudging admiration. The cook is fucking flexible as hell. His mind instantly provides him with ways he can take advantage of that flexibility: bending him over until his knees touch his shoulders, or maybe on their feet, with the cook bent at the waist and completely spread open as Zoro—
"Stop blanking out!" Sanji snaps, delivering a kick that would've taken Zoro's head if the man hadn't blocked it with Kitetsu. "You can't defeat me that easily, shitty swordsman."
Zoro pushes him back, trying to knock him off balance, but Sanji simply drops into a handstand and lashes out at his chest.
It's exhilarating. Sanji is challenging him in ways no one has done in a long time. Trying to fight Sanji is like trying to fight water. He isn't as physically strong as Zoro—though apparently still stronger than a normal person—but he makes up for it with his speed. Every time Zoro tries to trap him, the cook frees himself, his body flexing in ways that just aren't possible.
It's clear that Sanji's strength lies on his legs, each one showing the power to easily crush him if he lets himself be trapped by them. Every time Zoro parries, a long leg blocks it. They are equally matched.
Maybe it's time to bring out Wado.
"Is that how you use that third sword?" Sanji scoffs when Zoro puts Wado in his mouth. "You look fucking ridiculous!"
Zoro snarls, pissed off, and delivers one of his flying attacks, the strength of it destroying part of the ring and sending the spectators fleeing back. Sanji evades it, landing perfectly upright a couple of feet away.
"You're pissing me off, marimo," Sanji growls, tapping the toe of his shoe on the ground. "I'm going to kick your ass."
"Bring it, shit cook," Zoro snarls, goading the cook into fighting.
Seriously pissed off now, Sanji's legs seems to have doubled in strength, and his speed is so fast, Zoro can hardly keep track of him. The cook is fighting him seriously now, and while he isn't aiming to kill, like Zoro, he's definitely not afraid to do some serious damage to the swordsman. His previous assessment of the cook's strength is shot to hell when he realizes Sanji is just as physically strong as he is, maybe even more.
He seriously needs to stop underestimating the cook.
But Sanji has a weakness. Zoro has noticed that the man never strikes with his hands. In multiple occasions, he's had the chance to punch Zoro, but he jumps back instead. It seems like Sanji doesn't want to damage his hands, which make sense seeing as he's a cook.
It leaves him vulnerable and open, just the thing Zoro needs to gain the advantage. He feints left and strikes forward.
"Careful, marimo. That's my hand," Sanji mutters when Zoro swings Yubashiri at his right arm, the cook twisting to block it with his leg.
Zoro ignores him, taking advantage of the fact that Sanji has been forced to put all of his weight into his right leg to knock him off balance. Sanji falls on his back painfully and Zoro instantly straddles him so he won't be able use those fucking powerful legs of him.
"This is fucking it, cook," he growls, pressing Kitetsu to the tender skin of his neck. Sanji bucks in surprise and Zoro grinds down with his hips, forcing him back down.
"Ah!"
Zoro blinks, watching as the blood rushes to Sanji's cheeks, his eyes just as wide as Zoro's. Did he just…?
"Get off me, you useless swordsman!" Sanji snaps, trying to dislodge him. He nicks himself with Kitetsu, a drop of blood dripping down his neck to hit the floor. Sanji doesn't seem to notice, struggling harder.
Does he think Zoro is going to move Kitetsu? Why isn't he scared? Zoro has a fucking sword to his neck and the cook is still spouting off insults—and apparently hard underneath him. What the hell is wrong with him? Doesn't he understand Zoro is going to kill him?
No. He trusts you.
Sanji bucks harder, the cut on his neck deepening, and Zoro jumps off him as if burned. What the fuck is he thinking? He can't fucking kill Sanji!
Not after all Sanji has done for him. Not when he trusts Zoro so much. Not when killing him would mean Zoro will never get to eat his food again, or hear his insults, or smell that tantalizing combination of smoke and a thousand other spices that isn't supposed to smell as good as it does.
"Finally, moss head! I was—."
Zoro grabs his arm, dragging him out of the ring. He needs to get them as far away from Robin as possible. He needs the cook to be prepared. He needs the cook to know.
"What are you doing?" Sanji hisses, but he follows Zoro. "Zoro? Oi, marimo, answer me!"
"Somebody hired me to kill you," Zoro spits, opening a random door that leads to a familiar looking room. Has he been here before?
"What? You were trying to kill me? Why?"
"Because I asked him to."
Zoro pushes Sanji behind him and raises Kitetsu to point threateningly at Robin. He didn't even hear her sneak up on them.
"Robin?" Sanji asks, looking at the woman confusedly from behind Zoro.
"She's the one who hired me," Zoro growls. "She's the one who wants you dead."
"Wait, what?"
"If you put the sword down, we can discuss this calmly," Robin says, completely disregarding Zoro's sword.
"Yeah, fuck that," Zoro snarls. "You're going to get the fuck out of our way, or I will fucking kill you."
"Don't speak to her like that!" Sanji snaps, kicking him in the back of the head and bringing him to his knees.
"Ow! What the fuck, cook?!" he yells, jumping to his feet. "I'm trying to protect you here!"
"Protect me? Like you fucking can, you useless swordsman!"
"What did you call me, shit cook?"
"Watch your mouth, shitty moss. My food is heavenly!"
"Yeah, right. Dartboard brow!"
"Marimo!"
"Pervert!"
"Pervert?!"
"Oh my," Robin interrupts, giggling behind her hand. "You two sure are passionate."
Sanji blushes and steps back from Zoro, smoothing his suit. "Robin, can you please tell me what is going on? Why is Zoro saying you hired him to kill me?"
"Because I did," Robin replies simply, her slender shoulders shrugging. "Well, I made him think I did."
"What?" Zoro frowns, confused.
"Sanji is my friend, Zoro," Robin informs him, nodding towards the cook. "I've known him for close to ten years now. He's one of the few people I trust with my life. I would never wish him any harm."
"Then why did you tell me you were going to pay me three hundred thousand Beri to kill him?" Zoro snaps.
"Three…Robin, you didn't!" Sanji exclaims, blushing bright red for some reason.
"I wanted to see if you were capable of going through with it," Robin says, her gaze sharpening. "I was…nervous about you, I admit. Sanji seems to have taken a liking to you unnaturally fast, even more so considering that he has never shown any other man the compassion he shows you. When I first noticed his sexual attraction towards you, I was momentarily put at rest, thinking it was purely physical."
"Robin!" Sanji yelps, anguish clear on his face as the woman reveals his attraction for Zoro. The swordsman glances back at the cook, surprised. Sanji likes him?
"But then, Sanji started asking me for favors." Robin continues as if she hadn't heard Sanji, ignoring the mortification in the cook's face. "He first asked me to learn about the debt you owed Crocodile. That didn't seem too harmful though I was curious about his intentions. When he asked me for two of my agents to protect your son, I began to worry. It's clear he cares much about you; I was simply trying to see if you are worthy of his affections."
"Oh my god. Please kill me now," Sanji moans, hiding his face behind his hands.
"So the offer you made…"
"Completely coincidental." Robin smiles and shrugs. "Sanji is the one who gave me the three hundred thousand Beri. I was simply going to deliver it to Crocodile. But when I saw you, the plan formed in my mind, and I couldn't help myself. I had already paid Crocodile the money when I spoke to you. If you'd met with the man that day, he would've told you so."
"Wait…you mean you did pay that money?!" Zoro exclaims, completely floored.
"Of course. I wasn't supposed to tell you it was Sanji's money, but oh well." Robin shrugs in a 'what will you do' manner, then waves. "Well, have fun you two. Goodbye, Sanji!"
"Goodbye, Robin," Sanji replies weakly, his eyes on the floor.
Zoro's mind is reeling. Sanji likes him? Sanji paid the three hundred thousand Beri? But wait…does Sanji work for Robin? Is that how he made all of his money? It's clear this is not his first underground fight, and these things tend to pay a lot.
"Zoro, I…I'm sorry," Sanji says softly, distracting him from his thoughts. "I know you think this is pity, but I just wanted to help you, I swear."
"You like me?"
Sanji splutters, staring at Zoro with wide eyes even as his cheeks turn pink. Does that blush travel all the way down his chest?
"I, uh—it doesn't mean anything," the cook says quickly. "I'm not helping you because I like you. I know you're with Saga now and I wouldn't do anything to jeopardize that. I just don't want us to…to stop being friends."
What? He and Saga? Where did the cook get that idea? He needs to set things straight…but maybe not here.
"Can you give me a ride home?" he asks the cook.
Sanji doesn't say anything at first, his gaze burning a hole on the ground. When he finally speaks, he's still not looking at Zoro. "Yeah. Sure."
Zoro watches Sanji move with a new eye. Just looking at him, there is no way of telling the strength he holds. The many times he has imagined sleeping with Sanji, he has always pictured smooth and soft skin, miles and miles of it. But now, having felt firsthand the power on those legs of him, he knows he will most likely find hardened muscle below those clothes.
He shivers and licks his lips. He can't wait to get his hands on the cook. He doesn't notice the cook's anxiousness, his mind taken over by fantasies.
Sanji walks with him to his apartment, and stands awkwardly in the middle of the room as Zoro put up his swords in the closet.
"I should probably get going," Sanji begins when Zoro comes back out to the living room. "Can I still come in the morning? I still want to—."
Zoro interrupts him with a kiss. He grins when Sanji moans, his whole body relaxing as he opens his mouth for Zoro's tongue to go in and just taste.
The taste of cigarettes and chocolate hits him, and just like he imagined, it's too addicting. He sinks his fingers into Sanji's hair—it's soft, like liquid silk—and drags the cook closer with a hand around his waist. A firm chest presses against his, and a strong leg lodged between his to rub at his rapidly growing erection.
When Zoro finally lets go, it's only for lack of breath. "You were saying?"
Sanji stares at him dazedly, pink tongue tracing his lower lip. "Wait…you like me?"
Zoro snorts. "Did my raging erection give that away?" Only his quick reflexes save him from getting a kick to the face.
"You couldn't tell me that before that fucking awkward car ride?!" Sanji snaps, grunting in discomfort when Zoro grabs his leg and pushes it up until his knee hit his shoulder. His cock hardens purely at the sight of the flexible feat. Sanji doesn't even look bothered, standing perfectly balanced despite the standing split.
"My bad," Zoro mumbles against his lips, and reaches down to grab Sanji's other leg.
Sanji jumps and wraps his legs around Zoro's waist, grabbing hold of the short, green-hair to bring the swordsman in for a second bruising kiss. "B-bedroom," he moans when Zoro squeezes his ass.
When Zoro first imagined himself sleeping with Sanji, he thought it would be slow and sensual, taking his time to unravel the cook and have him begging for Zoro's cock. That sounds like fun, but it's not going to happen today.
This is going to be hard and fast, a clash of two burning forces fighting for the upper hand on a battle of heated kisses and groping hands. Zoro throws Sanji on the creaking bed and the cook drags him down, hands roaming his chest.
There are too many clothes. Zoro growls and pulls on Sanji's jacket, his left hand reaching down to press against the cook's erection. Sanji gasps, his back arching beautiful as he obeys Zoro's silent command, almost ripping his jacket off before his dress shirt follows.
Zoro groans as the pale chest is revealed, every lean muscle sharply carved to perfection and ingrained with impossible litheness. His whole body is a well-oiled machine, every flex and pull of muscle breathtaking.
For the second time that day, Zoro finds himself comparing the cook's body to the grace and power of the ocean. His hands tremble in anticipation as he touches the supple skin, feeling the soft skin quaver under his calloused hands. Dusky pink buds call to him, and he latches on to one with his mouth, grazing the nipple with his teeth and groaning when it hardens. Sanji makes a soft noise, his fingers digging into Zoro's back, hips grinding up to meet his own.
"Zoro…"
Ugh, that voice. Smoky and broken, crying out Zoro's name. It sets his veins ablaze, blood boiling as it travels down to his already painful erection. Never before has he experienced this urgency, this starving need to make someone his, to touch their very core and unravel them.
He sits up with his knees on either side of Sanji's hips and reaches for the edge of his shirt, snarling as his hand gets caught in the fabric before Sanji reaches up to help him. Slender hands map the expanse of his heaving chest, and a torturously soft touch follows the length of the scar Mihawk left him all the way down to his his hip. Nimble fingers traced the edge of his pants before a firm hand presses down against the bulge in his crotch, eliciting a moan from the swordsman.
Fuck, he isn't going to last. He's too wound up, too far gone to take things slow. He wants to be inside of the cook, now.
Giving in to his instincts, Zoro reaches down to tear Sanji's pants open; the cook yelps in surprise but doesn't get a chance to stop the swordsman from dragging his pants off. The temptation to kiss him is too strong, and Zoro grinds down as his lips meet Sanji's again. They both groan as their bodies rub together, Sanji naked and Zoro still with his pants on. Sanji's arms wrap around his shoulders as he deepens the kiss. Zoro's hands trail down his amazing body until he reaches the two perfectly round masses. Sanji moans when Zoro grabs his ass possessively, kneading the soft flesh.
"Oi, what makes you think you can top me?" Sanji whispers, their lips still pressed together but no longer kissing. "I'm older, I think I should be the one fucking you."
"Come off it," Zoro mutters, breath hitching when a particularly delicious grind rubs his clothed cock against the cook's groin. "I have more experience. Or have you ever fucked a guy before?"
"How hard can it be?"
Zoro pauses at that. Letting Sanji fuck him might not be such a bad idea. The only guy he's ever slept with is Saga, and the other man never liked to top. Zoro is actually a bit curious about how it feels—after all, Saga always reacted like it was the best fucking thing ever. But all of the fantasies he's had about the cook are clamoring at him to get his dick inside him, and Zoro is really looking forwards to acting one of them out.
"You've never fucked a guy, and I've never been fucked," Zoro finally answers. "So it would feel like our first time. And do you really want to make this the awkward elbow-in-the-face, knee-in-the-groin loss-of-virginity sex?"
Sanji snorts. "Is that how you lost your virginity, marimo?" When Zoro only gives him an unimpressed look, he rolls his eyes and sighs. "I guess you have a point. But I'm so fucking you next time."
"Yeah, yeah," Zoro grins, and before Sanji can find another excuse, he flips the cook over.
"Oi! What are you doing, you idiot swordsman?" Sanji snaps, struggling to get on his hands and knees before Zoro pushes him back down, one hand clasped firmly on his hip to keep only his ass up.
"Sorry." His own voice is rough with anticipation, his hands shaking a bit in excitement. "I can't wait." He presses his body against the cook's, reaching for the bottle of lotion he keeps on the bedside table.
Sanji gasps at the first touch, a low groan ripped out of him as Zoro massages his entrance with a rough finger. Zoro watches, fascinated, as the tight ring of muscle slowly loosened up, allowing him to insert his index finger. Sanji curses, his hands grip the covers in tightly, and he buries his head in the pillow. Zoro can still see the redness in the back of his neck, though.
Shit, Sanji is hot inside, and oh so fucking tight. His balls hang tight, ready to burst, his flushed cock hard and dripping on the bed sheets. Zoro can see some discomfort in the tense set of his shoulders, so he leans down and bites softly at his perineum before inserting a second finger.
Sanji moans loudly, back arching painfully and thighs shaking, but Zoro doesn't let off, moving his mouth to lick and suck on the cook's balls.
"Zoro!" The word is muffled against the pillow, his moan cut off as he bites down. He stretches on the bed, lowering his body until he can grind his painful erection against the soft covers for some kind of relief. Zoro pulls his fingers out, biting his tongue to keep from moaning at the squelching sound, and spreads his cheeks open.
He's always been a sucker for rough, hard fucking and knowing that Sanji may very well be stronger than him only makes him want to fuck him until he can't even walk anymore. He leans down and bites at the inside of one cheek, chuckling when Sanji tries to muffle a noise with the pillow. Shit, his voice is fucking amazing. Zoro wants to hear more of it, so he continues to kiss and bite at the sensitive flesh until Sanji is a quivering mess of muffled whimpers and cut-off groans.
"Zoro, I can't," Sanji gasps desperately, his hips contradicting him as he grinds back into Zoro's face.
"I want to hear you," Zoro grunts into the skin, moving back a little to watch as he rubs the puckered entrance with the pads of his thumbs. The skin marks red every time his grip roughens, a stark contrast to his pale skin. "Do you have any idea how long I've been waiting to do this? The first time I saw you I just wanted to bend you over that kitchen counter and fuck you until you couldn't see."
Sanji groans, the sound low and rugged. Zoro digs his fingers in roughly, grinning when he tears another pleasured cry from the cook. A pool of precum has gathered on the sheets, Sanji's weeping cock still painfully hard.
"You like it when it hurts a little, don't you?" Zoro growls, leaning in to whisper in the cook's ear, dragging the coarse texture of his jeans against the cook's trembling legs, and scissoring his fingers. "That's why you're dripping wet. I bet I can get you to come on my cock without even touching your sweet spot, just from the force of me fucking you."
"Don't tell me you're the dirty-talk kind of fucker," Sanji scoffs breathlessly, glancing down at him with a dazed expression.
"Like you didn't just tighten deliciously around my fingers," Zoro replies, smirking widely when Sanji averts his gaze.
"Fuck you," he snarls, the heat of his words lessening as they dissolve into a breathless gasp at a particularly sharp jab of Zoro's fingers.
"No, Sanji. Fuck you." Zoro grins, finally slipping his fingers out. He frees his own painful erection, pushing his pants mid-thigh, and holds his weight with one arm placed next to Sanji's head, the other hand spreading Sanji's cheeks apart. He's so fucking hard and Sanji is so perfectly prepared, he doesn't even have to guide himself inside, his cock easily pushing past the tight ring of muscle.
"Oh shit," Sanji groans as Zoro slowly lowers his weight on top of him, sinking deeper inside. Zoro moans as his hardened flesh is enveloped by tight, silken heat until he bottoms out, his whole body pressed from chest to feet against Sanji's. He can feel every tremor of the cook's body against his own, every ragged breath, every lick of sweat.
"You're too fucking big to be topping," Sanji gasps, and Zoro groans when he flexes the muscles of his ass, squeezing him tightly.
"Aren't we about the same size?" Zoro mutters, but he places soft kisses into the trembling skin of his shoulders, trying to get him to relax before he starts moving. He runs his hands down his sides, Sanji grunting when Zoro's weight presses him down, and slowly starts to grind his hips, short and slow little thrusts that get Sanji's breath to speed up.
"Fucking move," Sanji snarls once it becomes too much, pressing up into him. "I'm not made out of glass—fuck me right."
Zoro grins at the order, placing his hands on either side of Sanji to raise his body, slipping out of the cook. He moves until only the tip of his cock is inside of him, then fucks back into him using his weight as his strength. Even the loud sound of his hips smacking against the cook's ass isn't enough to cover up the moan Sanji lets out, but Zoro doesn't let up, quickly striking up a fast and rough tempo.
"Shit!" Sanji cries, using his hands to push against the headboard as Zoro's thrusts drive him forward. The bed is creaking loudly, moving with them, but Zoro hardly cares about the noise. He only cares about Sanji below him, Sanji around him—the heat is unbearable, boiling his blood and pumping his veins. His skin glides against the cook's, aided by their sweat. Every movement gets him deeper inside the blond—it gives him the sweet sound of his cries, the amazing contradicting scent of his body, the smooth and powerful flex of Sanji's muscles.
Sanji's body is fucking perfect, and Zoro can't believe he gets to touch it, to kiss it, to worship it.
Zoro changes his pace, moving from long and hard thrusts, to quick and sharp ones. A shift makes him strike right into Sanji's sweet spot, causing the cook to let out a long, winded curse and a shiver to run down his body that Zoro feels almost as if it were his own.
"There it is," he murmurs into Sanji's ear. "It feels good?"
"S-shut up," Sanji gasps, hiding his face in the pillow and muffling his cries.
Oh that won't do at all. Zoro didn't spend months imagining this to be cheated out of watching the cook in ecstasy. Zoro pulls out, ignoring Sanji's indignant cry, and quickly slips his pants all the way off and throws them somewhere on the floor. He flips the cook on his back, pulling him by the hips to slip inside him again, the cook's legs spread obscenely open in front of him. Zoro set up a brutal pace again, this time getting a front-row seat as he watches pleasure ripple through the cook's body and face.
Sanji's eyes are lidded, the blue of his irises a thin line around his large pupils. His lips are swollen and red where he keeps biting them, his cheeks a rosy color. His blonde hair is a sweaty mess, pushed back to reveal the second, matching eyebrow. He looks drunk, his eyes shining brightly before he covers them with his arm, looking away from Zoro.
Zoro can't help himself and leans in to kiss the cook again, moving his hands down to grab Sanji's ass and push him into the thrusts of his hips. He swallows the cook's sounds, feeling as if he can taste them in the back of his throat.
"Let me see you," he breathes into Sanji's lips caught in between his teeth. "Let me hear you."
Sanji's sigh is almost silent, but he moves his hand and looks Zoro in the eye. His legs snake high around Zoro's waist, subtly changing positions again, and the heels of his feet dig into his back, pushing him deeper. His hands grip Zoro's face softly and brings him in for another breathless kiss. It changes the pace from rough to gentle, but it's not any less intense because of it.
Zoro hungrily chases Sanji's lips, already addicted to his taste. He lets Sanji set the pace, content to let the blonde's heat and passion envelop him. Finally, his lungs demand air and he stops the kiss to move his mouth to Sanji's neck. "You look so fucking gorgeous," Zoro whispers, pressing a quick kiss into his clavicle.
"Zoro…"
He squeezes his eyes shut, moves his head down until his body is crouched over the cook and he can latch his mouth around a hard nipple—the movement pushes up Sanji's legs to Zoro's shoulders and he almost has an aneurysm right then because fuck is the cook flexible—and gives more power to his thrusts. With a normal person, having Sanji's legs hooked on his shoulders would cause more space to be put in between them, but with the cook's flexibility, Zoro can push down until he can almost touch his chest to Sanji's again. Sanji grips him tightly, his blunt nails digging into his back, and moves his head up to kiss him again. He can hear Sanji's heart beating, feel his breath rattle in his lungs. His muscles quiver with every moan, shifts with every pleasured cry, flexes every time a well-placed thrust hit his center.
He doesn't know what Sanji's catalyst is, but he feels it when the cook tightens around his cock, a sharp cry escaping his mouth as his body locks up. Zoro feels the splash of something hot on his stomach, and he grunts with effort as he continues to fuck into the vice-like grip, feeling his orgasm tip over the edge when Sanji pulls on his hair, planting a sloppy kiss below his pierced ear.
They stay frozen, sharing each other's pleasure as a white haze blinds them. It recedes slowly, leaving behind warmth.
"Fuck," Zoro groans in post-orgasmic bliss, letting his body fall on top of the cook, flaccid cock slipping out of Sanji. Both men are breathing hard, limbs tangled and bone tired.
Sanji hisses at the sensation of come leaking out of him, and makes a face. "Can I smoke?" he asks after a moment of silence.
"Sure," Zoro mumbles, letting the cook push him to the side. He watches through lidded eyes as the cook struggles to get up, face contorting in pain at a particular movement.
Zoro winces, feeling guilty at pushing the cook so hard during his first time. "I'll get them," he says, pushing the cook back down on the bed.
"Breast pocket."
Zoro quickly finds the pack of cigarettes, and hands one to the cook along with his lighter. As the cook lights the death stick and takes a long draft, Zoro heads off to the bathroom to clean his stomach. Once he's done, he wets a second towel to clean Sanji off, ignoring the cook's eyes on him as he works.
"What?" he finally snaps, irritated.
"My ass fucking hurts," Sanji says simply and Zoro bursts out laughing.
"Yeah, sorry about that." Zoro balls up the dirty towel and throws it across the room, narrowingly missing the dirty clothes hamper. He shrugs and returns to the bed, kicking the dirty sheets off him and Sanji.
The cook moves to lay his head on Zoro's chest, and the swordsman wraps an arm around his hips. Zoro stares at his cracked ceiling, feeling no need to break the comfortable silence that has fallen between them.
It's a new feeling, this comfortable silence thing. He has never experienced it before, always having to suffer through the few one-night stands he had before Chopper. And with Saga—the only person he's ever had a relationship with—he had felt an unsettling discontentment.
But this…this is a nice feeling, and he can definitely get used to it.