Me: I can't believe I wrote this...
Mid: You meant to say that I wrote this, right?
Me: ...I can't believe I wrote this...
Mid: Final chapter; it was a good run while it lasted! Thank you for reading and enjoying our little weird plot. It makes us happy to know that we can entertain you. Warnings: ZoSan/SanZo lemon. Dirty talk, too. Mature stuff so go and play with Legos, all you kiddies out there.
Re-Adjusting
"Sanji-kun, you usually clean the deck around this time!"
The cook raised an eyebrow at the orange-haired goddess, but smiled and nodded obediently regardless. He closed the cabinet doors and made his way over to the exit, when a familiar squeaky voiced excitedly called for him. "Sanji! You normally would have come down to the sick bay to discuss herbs with me!"
Again, Sanji raised a spiraled eyebrow. How the hell did he manage this stuff? First it was Usopp's annual morning chat (no trouble at all, really), then Luffy's ridiculously long and tedious game of hide and seek (which was pointless since the captain claimed he cheated every time), then Robin's specialized green tea (anything for a goddess though~!), then Franky and Brook's duet of their new songs (he apparently agreed to audience before the rest of the crew did), and now the fucking deck swabbing? Had being in a relationship with Zoro make him a push-over? The worse part was Sanji seemingly did this almost every day. Why couldn't the shitty longnose do it, or any of the others? He'd been up and about instead of chained in the infirmary for only five days, and the routine was beginning to imprint in his mind. Any second, Luffy would come barging in, shouting obnoxiously at the top of his lungs-
"ONEE~! TWOO~! THREEE~! FOURR-"
-overly drawled-out numbers.
Goddamn this routine, Sanji thought. And just where was Zoro in all of this? The green-haired bastard napped his ass off; all day, every day. If they weren't being attacked by marines or giant sea monsters, the first mate spent his free time in the mikan grove, having peaceful dreams while Sanji was pestered with chores. Why hadn't he forced Zoro to help him at least once? Maybe it was ignorance on Sanji's part, or perhaps the desire for Zoro to be comfortable and sated.
The fuming cook stormed past the eagerly counting captain with a deep scowl etched into his features.
Fucking ignorance.
XVX
Sanji watched the first mate snooze against the mast, one arm slung over his stomach while the other rested on Wadou's hilt. He looked so peaceful, so cute and at ease that Sanji almost walked away with no more bad intentions. Key word: almost. "Marimo," the blonde announced the word like it was of great importance and carried a different meaning instead of just an insulting nickname. Zoro shifted slightly and groaned, but didn't bother to open his eyes. The tip of a shoe gently prodded his jaw line repeatedly, along with the monotone chants of "Zoro, Zoro, Zoro, Zoro." Zoro's eyes slowly opened, immediately taking in sight of the black dress shoe in his line of vision. He scooted back in disgust and violently wiped his chin off with both hands.
"What the hell is your problem?!" he practically shouted in annoyance, "Do you know where the fuck your shoes have been?!"
Sanji rolled his eyes. The Neanderthal himself wanted to talk about hygiene? "Yeah, on my feet, kicking your ass as usual," he smugly countered, not taking the pride he normally would in verbally fighting the marimo. Zoro noticed this all too soon, raising an eyebrow at the cook's strange behavior.
"Oi..." he said, "what's wrong with you, shit-cook?"
The blonde sighed and limply sunk beside the curious other, sliding down the Sunny's mast. Zoro automatically leaned on him, since sleep was still trying to overtake him. Of course he wouldn't doze off when something was obviously troubling the cook, but there was nothing rude about resting his eyes. One thing Zoro noted was how much the shoulder muscles his temple touched were tensed. Sanji didn't let petty stuff get to him; he was a calm and go-with-the-flow person most of the time. The smell of tobacco reeked on his suit, even more so than any other day. His crop of blonde hair was frazzled and the single fringe covering his right eye had terrible split-ends. What could have possibly happened to make the shitty cook on edge?
"You're lucky, you mossball," Sanji huffed, taking a long puff of his cigarette. "All you do is sleep all day and night. Even on watch you sleep."
"Anything more is pointless and a waste of energy," Zoro defended. He received a weak glare from the cook, who slouched further back into the wood.
"Waste of energy, huh? I wish I could have that choice..."
Zoro blinked, "Choice?"
"Yes, Zoro," Sanji snapped, "A fucking choice. Ever since we've been back, I don't just sit in the kitchen making preparations anymore. I'm always running ragged around the damn ship, either cleaning or doing some kind of favor. I can't refuse them since I already accepted; I'd be an asshole." The cook sighed heavily in frustration. Zoro observed the other's body language and came to a sudden realization of why Sanji was so strung out, so stressed and irritable.
"I just wish I had an outlet," he breathed quietly.
A tanned hand grasped his own milky white one tightly, picking him up from the ground in haste and heading towards the crow's nest's rigging. Zoro urged him to climb upwards, though Sanji was still confused as hell about what was happening. Once there, the swordsman locked the door behind him swiftly, making sure Usopp wouldn't come bargaining in. Sanji opened his mouth to speak, but Zoro's soft lips cut him off abruptly. Eyes wide as a wandering tongue broke through Sanji's mental barrier; the cook let them droop at the pleasurable sensation, raking his fingers in the swordsman's hair.
The cook attempted to eagerly dominate the marimo's mouth, but Zoro wouldn't let him. His tongue stroked the roof of his mouth and plunged deeper, drawing a moan form the other. When they reluctantly pulled away, Sanji stared at him in understanding, seeing as he was pushed up against the wall at some point. Zoro went to work on his suit jacket, irritably muttering about wearing tank tops instead of an entire clothing center for a change. Sanji snickered, pulling his kimono off his shoulders and untying the sash at his waist. "Your clothes were always too easy," he chuckled.
"Shut up, curly-brow," Zoro smashed his mouth into the cook's again while fumbling to get his pants off. "I'm cashing in my birthday present."
The first mate trailed down Sanji's collarbone (having thrown the cook's shirt and jacket God knows where), ignoring the fact that he already used his present that same day months ago. Sanji also chose not to call him out on it, and let the swordsman lick and nip at his neck, gently forcing him down onto the lookout's couch. His pants were halfway off, giving enough room for his growing member to breathe beneath his boxers. Zoro ran one hand along the curves of the blonde's sides, and roughly cupped Sanji's crotch with the other, earning a long pleased grunt. The hand slowly rubbed him through the fabric in torturous circles, causing Sanji's breath to quicken. Smirking, Zoro gave his nipple a hard and precise lick, pushing down on it when Sanji arched up.
The reason Zoro chose the couch and not the floor, besides the obvious reason that splinters were a possibility, was because he kept peach-scented lube in between the cushions. Not his favorite, but it was recommended at the last port. It claimed that it could produce "mind-blowing sensations" and "weaken resolve" when inserted.
"Fuck, wait a minute," Sanji growled lowly, completely ruining the atmosphere of the moment.
"What the fuck is it? I'm trying to be sexy, you cockwad."
"Lemme do it."
Zoro blinked, "...What?"
"Lemme do it."
"...T-...the prep-"
"Just gimme it, shitty marimo," Sanji snarled, snatching the clear bottle out of Zoro's grip. The swordsman was surprised to say the least; watching as the cook's slim fingers coated themselves in the slick, orange-ish substance. He swallowed visibly as Sanji's hand disappeared behind his back, and his face contorted after he pushed a finger in. Zoro couldn't believe this was happening. His cheeks burned hotly. The cook was fingering himself in front of the swordsman, and Zoro was just staring like a dazed idiot.
It had been quite awhile since Sanji was on the receiving end. The foreign but familiar burn and stretch made him exhale heavily in discomfort, stopping for moment to adjust. After torturous seconds, he smoothly added another finger and began twisting and flexing between the two. His breathing ran ragged as something peculiar happened. Dull pain almost immediately evaporated, leaving nothing but hot jolts of pleasure every time Sanji's fingers made the slightest movements. He suddenly moaned aloud, losing it when he added yet another finger. The lube enhanced every small detail he normally wouldn't even notice. His insides were boiling, and he had to restrain from fondling his prostate in fear of cumming too soon.
Zoro felt his cock twitch at the cook's desperate noises. Fuck, he was enjoying himself a little too much, writhing and squirming on his knees, directly across from Zoro, who was having a hard time controlling his sex drive. He wanted to make sure the cook was ready and prepared before slamming him against the wall. Sanji's face was strained as he held back his sounds, his mouth hung open with a bit of drool seeping out. The sight alone was too damn much to handle. Finally, Zoro grew tired of watching, and grasped Sanji's tight, weeping erection. The cook gasped, and his free hand reached for Zoro's hair, tugging it hard backwards. Zoro grunted and started stroking the cook with mild vigor. Sanji's body convulsed and shuddered as he came, pulling his fingers out reluctantly since his body became too sensitive from intense simulation.
The swordsman's breath hitched slightly as Sanji came down from his high and took a hold of his wrist. Then, to his shock, the cook brought his seed covered hand up to his lips, absently licking him clean with his warm slippery tongue. That was the final straw; Zoro couldn't take it anymore. With every ounce of his strength, Zoro tackled the dazed blonde, forcing him back on the couch. Fuck foreplay; Zoro was sure neither of them could withstand it. He poured a large amount of lube onto his cock hastily, lifted Sanji's waist and pushed through the first ring of muscle, causing a strangled groan escape from his throat. "Ah...fucking hell," Sanji moaned, arching and thrusting his hips upward. The more lube there was, the more the little sparks of electricity flowed up and down his spine. And it seems like Zoro used the whole damn bottle. Sanji couldn't control his body, or the loud panting and groans. Zoro pulled out agonizingly slow and quickly snapped his hips forward repeatedly, again and again, rocking into the squirming cook under him.
"Fuck...! Shit...! Zoro, slow down," the blonde practically shouted in pleasure, tears beginning to form.
This was one of those times where Zoro automatically knew what they both desired, therefore increased his pace until Sanji was bouncing back and forth violently. Zoro was positive the couch's fabric was chaffing the cook's back, but Sanji didn't seem to care. His cock was fully hardened again, leaking and standing tall. Sweat dripped down the first mate's brow as he calmed his breathing. Sanji was tight and hot and twitching in a way that Zoro concluded shouldn't be legal. Keeping his fast pace uninterrupted, Zoro grabbed Sanji's cock, earning a stifled whine from him. The blonde shivered and arched inhumanly as he came for the second time, clear and slick spilling across his chest. He tightened and squeezed around Zoro until he, too, came, thrusting deep until he gave a shuddering finish.
The swordsman limply pulled out and attempted to collapse on Sanji's chest, but ended up ungracefully falling off the narrow couch face first. Sanji rolled his eyes and sat up, oddly enjoying the fresh ache in his backside. Zoro groaned, sitting up to awkwardly scratch his head which slowly sprouted a small bump. "Damn mosshead," Sanji sighed.
"Stupid dartboard."
Sanji smirked; a devious idea springing to life in his thoughts, "What did you say?"
"You heard me, curly."
"Come over here and say it to my face, Mr. Tree Fungus!"
Zoro should have known something was off when Sanji's face spilt into a creepy smile, but his ego wouldn't let him back down from the challenge. He stood up and loomed over the cook, staring into his eyes smugly, "Stu. Pid. Dart. Bor-OI!"
Sanji's arms wrapped around the marimo's waist in a sneak attack and slid him into his awaiting lap. Zoro straddled his thighs with an irritable frown at being tricked, but certainly didn't seem opposed to it. He bent forward and kissed him, rubbing his soft cock against Sanji's reawakening member. "I feel like we've done this before," the cook hummed gently.
"That's...because we have," Zoro clarified, cutely (in Sanji's eyes) raising an eyebrow. "We do this almost every day. You don't remember?"
"...No."
Zoro blinked, "Really?"
"Really."
"Then you were just...?"
"'Going with the flow'? Yeah, pretty much."
"Hm."
"Yep."
Sanji brought Zoro's head down and kissed him again, shoving his tongue inside his willing mouth. The kiss didn't last long, but it proved to be satisfying enough when Zoro pulled away. Sanji wondered briefly if Zoro used the peach-scented lube before, picturing his immense reactions and wanton expressions only made him harder. He felt compelled to ask, but saved it for a surprise to himself. Sanji saw the lube bottle, carelessly squished in between the cushions, and reached for it, only to have his roughly hand slapped away. He glanced up curiously at the swordsman, who flashed a cheeky grin. "Lemme do it," he mocked, picking up the bottle.
Sanji considered this for a moment. Then, "Did you ever use it before?"
Zoro shook his head, not seeing what this had to do with anything.
Sanji smirked devilishly and snatched the bottle away, "Then request denied."
The cook noticed Zoro's pout, but gave his focus on apply the familiar smooth lubrication on his fingers once again. Just having the thick liquid on his skin sent apprehension down his spine of what was to come. He quickly invaded Zoro's entrance with the first digit, knowing the masochistic swordsman could handle the brief pain. Sanji pushed the finger in as deep as possible, skillfully massaging and stroking Zoro's scorching inner walls, waiting for his desired reaction. Sanji couldn't recall how long it took for the lube to work its magic, but figured less than a nanosecond.
Suddenly, Zoro moaned loudly in confused arousal, arching his back slightly and twitching his hips. Sanji took a gentle hold of his neck, laying his chest on top of the blonde's. Seeing Zoro like this did more to his libido than he thought. He nibbled and sucked on his ear as he added another finger, receiving a shaky sigh. "Zoro," the cook whispered lowly into the swordsman's ear, "you're so fucking hot on the inside. Can you feel my fingers worming in and out of you?" Sanji added another digit, causing Zoro to take a large intake of breath. He knew what talking did to the swordsman during this particular activity, and, frankly, Sanji loved seeing how much it affected him and how much he despised it. Zoro squeezed around his fingers and growled, clearly telling him to shut his trap. But the cook only smirked.
"Zoro~ how do you feel?" Sanji purred, digging deeper, purposely coating the marimo's prostate in left-over lube. The swordsman moaned and bucked, continuing to pant loudly. "Tell me."
His face seemed on fire from Sanji's angle, and his harsh breathing tickled the nape of his neck. Sanji knew that he had him right where he wanted. "I'll take them out if you don't answer," the cook threatened. Zoro tensed slightly, averting his gaze away from Sanji's direction. The cook expected an embarrassing confession, including a few moans and pleads, but this was not the case. The marimo bastard had the gull to shrug and bluntly state, "M'alright." The sudden urge to fuck Zoro until he admitted the truth came to mind, but Sanji had a better, more erotic idea. Grasping the swordsman's hips, the blonde rammed his fingers in hard, again and again, dead-on into Zoro's prostate. The grip on Zoro's waist prevented him from escape and/or re-angling his position. Therefore, rendering him useless and trapped.
Zoro was practically trying to push himself off of the cook, though at the same time rolling his sides in encouragement. Messages of all kinds were given, to stop, to keep going, to please stop, to for the love of God keep going. Soon enough, Sanji felt him shiver and cringe, then a damp, slick feeling of something spilling over his stomach. Grinning devilishly from ear to ear, he knew the job was done. Zoro acted like his pleasure slave once past a certain point.
After slicking his member (and coming down from the fact that it burned pleasantly to high heavens), Sanji set down the damn near empty bottle. Quickly drawing out his fingers, earning a low sigh of disappointment, Sanji positioned his cock at Zoro's entrance. He teasingly only forced the tip in, raising Zoro's hips to pull out. After Sanji did this repeatedly for a while, the swordsman's patience ran out and he begrudgingly sat down fully. He couldn't believe he let the cook get to him like this, but at the same time, he didn't really give a damn at the moment. Sanji groaned, biting his lip to keep from yelling at the tight hotness engulfing him, and the dull pain his balls suffered from Zoro's brutal pressure.
Sanji thrust his hips forward every once in a while to change-up the rhythm, causing the swordsman to cry out in surprise. Although he loved these honest reactions, and could do this all day, he knew he wasn't going to last very long. Zoro's cock was halfway hard again, so Sanji used his index finger to tease and lightly stroke the tip. Unexpectedly, Zoro's movements ceased as he stared at the cook's face. "I can't," he panted.
Confused, Sanji raised a curled eyebrow, "Can't what?"
"It's too much," he stated wearily, eyes fluttering closed, "I'm tired."
No, there was no way in hell Zoro was falling asleep in the middle of...this. He knew the swordsman's sleeping habits varied, but seriously? Sanji flipped him over on all fours with little trouble, though Zoro was a bit dazed at the sudden change. He shoved his way back in, (immediately re-acquainted with completely boiling insides) receiving a grateful harsh breath. He rammed and bucked roughly into him, not bothering with a pattern, but more so trying to keep the other awake.
"F-fuck...What's got you so...s-Nngh! Nagh...! San-ji! It's too d-deep," Zoro moaned as the cook only continued with vigor. The swordsman felt like he was dying; Sanji's cock rubbing all the places inside him raw. He was positive it was dragging out his organs. With one, precisely hard thrust, Sanji came violently with a groan of his name, digging his nails into Zoro's sides. The hot sensation stung a lot, but in an oddly satisfying, "I want more" sort of way. It tipped him over the edge, twitching as the white cleared from his vision and he laid his forehead on the couch's arm in front of him.
Sanji regained his composure and retracted, his back hitting the opposite arm behind him. He watched as Zoro's asshole convulsed, even as said man slept soundly. We do this almost every day? the cook thought, retrieving the folded up blue blanket beside the couch. He spread it across the marimo's body, which unconsciously snuggled into it. Sanji flashed a toothy smile. I wouldn't mind doing the chores then if this was my reward.
The End
Me: Yay! Smexy happy ending for all!
Mid: We hoped you've enjoyed!