Title: One to a Thousand
Rating: M
Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece
Spoiler Warning: Takes place after the time skip.
CHAPTER SEVEN
As Sanji listlessly mucked about in the kitchen, he contemplated how the last couple of weeks had gone much smoother than he could have imagined.
He should have felt more pleased with himself; with stubborn determination, Sanji had somehow managed to avoid anything but the most minimal contact with Zoro. It had been much simpler than he thought.
Yet instead, he found himself agonizing over the notion that maybe, over the years, he had stupidly allowed himself to purposely get into situations where he would be alone with the shitty marimo. Maybe this thing was more beyond his control than he had ever anticipated.
If that was the case, though, then that decisive moment—that moment when Usopp had seen them together in the Crow's Nest, after Sanji had stupidly convinced himself no one would see them up there—truly had been the end. It had to be, unconditionally and unquestionably. Even if the period at the end of their sentence seemed to feel like an unbearable weight on his chest.
Sanji hadn't exactly conveyed his decision to Zoro. However, he was certain his refusal to have anything more than minimal exchanges with the swordsman had been explanation enough.
The cook felt confident in his ability to at least keep up the appearance of no longer having interest. Even if he didn't always understand what Zoro was thinking, he had some idea of how his disinterest must have felt to him... Apathy toward each other was far worse than any curses or kicks they could throw at each other. Zoro would get it soon, if he hadn't already.
In a way, the hollow feeling left inside him from burying away the feeling was a bit nostalgic. After all, he had done it once before; years had passed between the first time he had kissed Zoro at Thriller Bark, and the moment they shared at Coleherne Island.
Sanji sighed heavily. If that thing had never happened at Coleherne, he wasn't even sure if the two men would have ever been drawn together again. Just as with a woman, if the right romantic atmosphere was never set, feelings of love would never blossom; he was sure that if the mood never presented itself with the swordsman again, then whatever the hell had been starting to bud between them would probably wither beyond the point of resurrection.
He wasn't even sure how that made him feel.
As he absentmindedly put things away, he tiredly reflected on just how naïve and foolish he had been, to let himself be overtaken by such inane, faux-romantic feelings at Coleherne. How ridiculous his reasoning had been, to think he did not want that lapse of stagnant time to pass by him again. Now that he had seen the consequences of him being selfish instead of logical, he knew just what an ass he had been.
Maybe right now, he didn't exactly know what he wanted, but it sure as hell wasn't the panicked, unpalatable feeling that had plagued him lately. Even this emptiness was better than that.
And so, Sanji did whatever he could to avoid the swordsman. When they were on the ship, he timed everything so that from the moment he woke up in the morning to when he went to sleep, he wouldn't be alone with Zoro. When they were on shore, he did whatever he could to avoid the group Zoro was in. Even if there was something he really wanted to do, if Zoro was going, he opted to do something else. It had been almost laughingly simple.
There was no doubt Zoro was trying to confront him, but Sanji had been very successful in his avoidance. He was quite confident he could keep this up until Zoro grew sick of it and gave up... even if it was a somewhat unsatisfying confidence.
But, as long as no one else interfered, he could continue evading the swordsman indefinitely; and he couldn't think of a reason anyone would interfere.
A female voice suddenly jarred Sanji out of his trance.
"Sanji, would you mind making me some coffee?" Robin asked, staring at him calmly from the doorway of the kitchen.
Startled, Sanji nearly dropped the stack of plates he was putting away. But seamlessly, he righted himself. "Of course, Robin-chwan, I'll bring it to you in just a moment!" he called out affectionately, quickly abandoning the dishes to spring into action.
A few minutes later, he bounded toward the dining hall table, a cup and saucer balanced on his fingertips, where Robin was seated with a book in hand. "Here you are, Robin-chwan," he purred, elegantly setting the items in front of her. "Can I get you anything else?"
"Hmm, perhaps if there's something that might go well with the coffee?" she suggested, smiling faintly. "Maybe something sweet."
"Absolutely, I know just the thing," he exclaimed, rushing back toward the kitchen.
"Oh, and Sanji?" she called after him.
"Yes, Robin-chwan?" he spun around to look at her.
"Won't you join me, as well?"
A sickeningly doting smile broke out over Sanji's face. "How could I turn down Robin-chwan's invitation? Of course I will, just a moment," he called out a bit too excitedly as he headed into the kitchen, practically floating as he rushed to put together a plate of fruit and chocolates.
There was a nagging voice in the back of his head telling him that this was very suspicious. However, just her brief appearance had been enough to pull him out of his mopish gloom, so he decided to ignore his skeptical feelings and simply enjoy his time alone with her.
Eagerly, he joined her at the table, focusing on enjoying the coffee and conversation. He easily lost track of the time that passed by as they chatted.
In fact, he did not even think about how late it was growing, and how likely it was that most of the crew had gone to bed, until he heard the door to the dining hall open. He glanced over, wondering who it could be.
His expression instantly turned cold as he laid his eyes on the grim-looking swordsman, who stared at him with apparent displeasure.
Sanji looked at Robin again, the smile back on face, although a bit more forced than before. "Are you all done, Robin-chwan? Or can I get you anything else?"
He started to get up, anxious to clear the table and leave now that the shitty marimo had shown up, but all of the sudden the dark-haired woman smiled mysteriously as she raised her arms, crossing them in front of her.
"Seis Fleur," she said calmly, her unreadable gaze fixed on Sanji.
The cook already knew what was about to happen, but he didn't move fast enough to avoid it. Six arms suddenly sprouted from his chair, wrapping around his body and firmly holding him in place.
"What are you doing?!" he cried out, staring at Robin in awe.
Wordlessly, Robin stood up and walked over to Zoro. "Do you need me to hold him down while you talk?" she asked calmly.
Sanji stared at her in disbelief. "Robin-chwan?" he cried out, a bit pathetically.
Zoro shook his head. "No, I can take it from here," he replied. "I owe you, though."
"Not at all," Robin replied coolly, glancing back at Sanji with that faint, indecipherable smile still on her lips.
"Robin-chwan?" Sanji called out again, even more pitifully than before. His head spun as he tried to grasp why the hell was she helping the shitty swordsman.
Then she disappeared through the door, and a few moments later, the arms pinning him down vanished.
"What the hell did you tell her, shitty marimo?" Sanji demanded furiously, springing to his feet. He knew he probably should have bolted for the door, but now he was far too enraged to avoid a confrontation. Angrily, he pulled a cigarette out of his pocket, jamming it between his teeth forcefully.
Zoro took a few steps closer to him. "Nothing. I just said I needed to talk to you for a minute. She's the one who thought this up."
Sanji clenched his jaw. "There was no reason to involve Robin-chwan."
"I didn't want to," Zoro said angrily, raising his voice. "I couldn't figure out how the hell else to talk to you, though."
The cook furrowed his brow, taking a pensive drag off of his cigarette. His fury was nearly bubbling over, but with chagrin, he realized he had partially brought this on himself, and his rage started to gradually subside.
Yes, he was at least a little bit to blame. He should have said it plainly to begin with, so there was no room for misinterpretation.
"Alright," Sanji said with a weary sigh, exhaling smoke as he spoke. "I was wrong to not tell you earlier—but I'll say it now so you won't have any more wrong ideas." He looked at Zoro, dead-on, his expression darkening. "This stupid thing that has been going on between us is going to stop."
Sanji did not think anything else needed to be said, so with those words, he tried to walk past Zoro to exit the room. However, a forceful hand clamped down on his shoulder, stopping him.
"Oi, you think I'm going to be satisfied with that, after I went to all this trouble to get you here?" The swordsman's strong fingers squeezed his shoulder painfully.
"There's nothing left to talk about," Sanji replied. He was surprised to hear a slight quaver in his voice as he spoke; after all, he was sure that he was completely resolute in his decision.
"There is!" the swordsman bellowed, a bit too loudly, a startling expression of anguish on his face as he shouted. Perplexed, Zoro bit down on his lip, clenching his eye closed as he tried to regain his composure.
"Bastard, do you think I wanted to have to ask for help to get you here?" he finally uttered with difficulty.
"I'm disappointed that you got Robin-chwan involved in something like this," Sanji replied.
"It wasn't what I wanted to do. But, I didn't see another way, either."
"Then don't do it at all!" Sanji barked.
"You said you wouldn't ignore it!" Zoro barked back, yanking Sanji violently toward him until he was standing in front of him and they were forced to face each other directly.
Sanji glanced downward, feeling far too close to the other man's face. "What the hell are you talking about, shitty swordsman?"
"Remember," he said sternly, as more of a command than a question. "When we were on that fucking island you were so terrified of... You said you'd try not to ignore it anymore."
The cook's jaw dropped slightly, but he did not know how to reply. He was astounded that Zoro had remembered such a thing, let alone brought it up. That night at Coleherne Island, that had sparked that flame he had been trying to snuff out for such a long time… He indeed remembered the conversation.
"Then will you stop ignoring it, at least?"
"Tch, again, what am I supposed to say to that..."
"It's a yes or no question. I don't get what's so hard about answering that."
"Of course it's hard!"
Sanji closed his eyes and buried his face in his hand, a wave of remorse washing over him as he recalled his answer.
"Maybe. That's all I'm saying for now."
"Ah, I did say something stupid like that, didn't I," he muttered. After regaining his composure again, he looked up at Zoro, his eyes dark. "Well, I did try it, and I've decided it was the wrong thing to do."
The finality of his tone was enough. The swordsman released his grip and took a step back, staring downward. When he finally spoke again, his voice was far more subdued. "Huh, I guess that is all we had to talk about, then."
"I guess so," Sanji murmured. He stepped aside and started to step past him.
"I didn't want to feel this way about an ero-cook like you, either," Zoro stated resignedly as Sanji walked by him.
He wasn't sure if it was the defeated tone or the startling words that made him stop, but either way, he did.
Sanji scolded himself for all of the flip-flopping his mind was doing whenever it came to matters involving Zoro. Wasn't it simpler when they just insulted each other and fought occasionally?
But the truth was, it has been so long since his feelings toward the other man were purely platonic, he could not even remember what that was like anymore...
The only thing he could remember was when he realized, deep in his mind, that no matter what, acting on any of his impulses was forbidden. No matter what he may have imagined doing in the darkest parts of his mind, he was able to stop himself from going too far.
Now, he was trying to lock away those feelings again, but it was so hard to do when Zoro was right there, speaking such uncharacteristically emotional words. It was so hard, when he knew if he reached out to touch him, he would respond with that lustful expression that left him aching for more.
"Dammit, why do you make everything so hard, you shitty marimo," Sanji complained. He puffed on his cigarette agitatedly, trying to will his feet to move forward.
"You want to hear more?" Zoro asked lowly.
"No, I don't," Sanji replied, but there was no conviction behind his words. He still did not take a step; he felt his heart start to pump a bit more forcefully as he wondered what else the other man could possibly say.
Zoro glanced over at him for a brief moment before returning his gaze to the floor. "Fine, then I'll just talk. I don't give a damn if you listen or not."
The swordsman's expression was grave as he studied the floor, as though it was hard for him to summon the words he wanted to say. When he finally spoke, it was with great difficulty that he formed the consonants.
"When I woke up on Thriller Bark, I remember you were there. In fact, the first couple of times I was awake, you were there every time, so I knew you must've been checking in on me a lot. You were trying to act like a bastard, but it was the look on your face that I couldn't get past. I don't know if anybody else noticed it, but I sure as hell did." He paused for a moment, his brow furrowing even more deeply. When he spoke the next sentence, there was a faint but unmistakable quaver in his voice. "Nobody's ever looked at me like that before."
Sanji knitted his brow.
"Then after that," Zoro continued, "when we were alone, and you kissed me—"
"You kissed me," Sanji interrupted. "At least get your shitty story right, marimo."
Zoro glanced over at him, openly surprised that Sanji had chimed in, and for the briefest moment, a wry grin crossed his face before his expression turned serious again. "Tch, fine, I kissed you. What I'm trying to say is, after that, I never stopped looking at you."
An agonizingly long pause followed.
Sanji's brow twitched as he stared at Zoro, a bit more expectantly than he wanted to admit to himself, as he waited for the other man to say something else to wrap up his puzzling monologue. Finally, he realized the swordsman had nothing left to say.
"That's it?" Sanji finally said. "You never stopped looking at me? What the hell does that even mean?" he muttered indignantly. With apparent frustration, he started clearing the cups and dishes on the table. He had long since forgotten his original goal of leaving the room altogether, and he needed to keep his hands busy with something.
"It means I noticed a lot about you," Zoro replied to Sanji's mostly rhetorical question, a bit too simply. "And I'll probably keep doing it, too, no matter what dumbass decision you're going to force on me to make yourself feel better."
The words cut, but the cook didn't know how to respond to them. With nothing left on the table to bus, Sanji hurriedly headed to the kitchen to clean the few dishes he and Robin had used. To his dismay, he felt Zoro's looming presence follow him. As Sanji set the dishes down in the sink, Zoro stood in the doorway, faintly gnawing on his lip as if he still had more to say.
"Is that all?" Sanji asked impatiently, looking up from the dishes.
Zoro narrowed his eye. "Yeah, that's it."
"Then why don't you get the hell out of here."
The swordsman crossed his arms and glared at Sanji, a blend of fury and dejection in his eye. "You don't get it," he said flatly.
"Get what?" Sanji snapped irritably. "You watched me. Okay." He shrugged his shoulders, his hands still preoccupied with agitatedly scrubbing the dishes. "You're watching me right now. Fine. Are you getting anything out of it?" Sanji incrementally raised his voice as he spoke, loudly clanging the glassware together. "Is it making even a damn difference?" he said, finally shouting, emphasizing his frustration by slamming a clean glass down a little too hard on the drying rack. The sound of cracking glass echoed across the room.
Sanji was too busy glaring at Zoro, trying to steady his ragged breathing, to even bother looking at the broken glass or notice the fresh cut on his hand.
After another infinitely long pause, Zoro finally responded, his expression and tone provokingly calm. "It means I noticed you were looking at me, too."
Sanji wasn't sure if it was the implication of his words, or the composure the other man managed to keep in response to his own outburst, but he felt as though all of the rage that had been building up inside of himself suddenly drained away.
There were so many directions he felt he should steer their argument into… Such a wide spectrum of feelings he wanted to impose on Zoro, to let him know all of the miserable, despondent emotions he had been experiencing. He wanted to shout. He wanted to fight him—to kick the swordsman right in that stupidly sorrowful face he was making, that face that didn't fit him at all, as he waited for a response that he was clearly not looking forward to hearing.
There were so many other things he wished he could think about, besides the remembrance of the painful feeling he had when he made those expressions Zoro was referring to, when Sanji spent his days watching the swordsman teeter in and out of a consciousness that may have been his last.
There were so many words Sanji wanted to say, to do, but for some reason, when he finally spoke, he only heard a rueful voice that barely sounded like his own, uttering words that he was sure were far too pitiful to come out of his mouth.
"How the hell do you think I felt, seeing you like that?"
A flicker of uncertainly reflected in Zoro's eye.
Sanji covered his face with his hand. "I mean, it's not like it was the first time I saw you hurt. Hell, I've seen you fight when you weren't even recovered from injuries that would've probably killed most people. But seeing you like that… Knowing what you did, why you did it…" he trailed off, unsure of what he was trying to say. That awful vision filled his mind again; Zoro's damaged body, dripping crimson, blood pooling on the ground.
"I probably know exactly how you felt," Zoro said carefully, finally stepping out of the doorway and into the kitchen, hesitantly heading toward Sanji, the sound of his slow footsteps and rumbling voice seeming to fill the kitchen. "You keep complaining about what I did, but you tried to take my place first."
Sanji's head shot up as he met Zoro's gaze. "What the hell, that's not the same at all," he scowled deeply.
"I'm saying it is, dumbass cook," the green-haired man insisted.
Suddenly, Zoro was closer than he realized. He felt a warm touch against his skin, as the swordsman reached out and softly grazed his cheek with the side of his hand.
The cook inhaled sharply, surprised at the touch, and the fluttery feeling it caused inside of his stomach and chest.
Was this really the same touch he had sworn he never wanted to feel again, just a short while ago? Did he truly think it wasn't worth all the trouble it caused?
As Zoro came closer to him—or maybe he was the one drawing nearer, he could no longer tell—he found himself unable to recollect why he felt that was the answer. All of the shame and embarrassment of the rest of the crew finding out about something as ridiculous as he and the swordsman being like this with each other suddenly didn't seem nearly as appalling as the thought of pulling away.
The hand that had brushed his cheek slid behind his head, entangling its fingers in his hair, the nimble fingertips softly stroking the nape of his neck. Another hand reached forward toward him, finding its place somewhere along his back.
When their lips touched, the first thing Sanji noticed was the heat. The warmth of Zoro's lips seemed to burn into his skin, in an enticing, sensual way that made him desperately want to lap it up. With a mouth burning at such a perfect temperature, there was no way he could resist devouring it.
Or perhaps he was the one being devoured. Before he knew it, he realized that the same tender hands that had gently caressed him moments before had forcibly pushed him back against the counter, so that he could feel the edge digging into him, just below his lower back. He had no idea how the swordsman had managed to conquer that much ground, but for some reason, just this once, he didn't actually care if he was overtaken a little bit.
He was far too focused on that mouth. Surprisingly soft, somehow gentle yet terrifying, like at any moment it could eat him alive. A rough hand slipped under his shirt, and he cried out in surprise at the feeling of skin on skin. Unconsciously, he ground his body against Zoro's, feeling that hard, satisfying confirmation that they were both burning with a similar passion.
When Zoro pulled away and their lips broke contact, Sanji found himself outraged at the separation. He dug his nails into the swordsman's broad, muscular back, urging him closer again. Then he felt scorching lips graze his neck.
He tried to let out a cry, but it came out as more of a strangled whimper. Gasping for air, he clutched onto Zoro, unable to make a coherent sound to tell him to stop; but maybe that was for the best, because deep down, he didn't really want him to.
Consumed by lust, Sanji could only string together a single, intelligible thought. He found himself repeating it over and over, with each wave of pleasure surging through his body as Zoro found another place to rub his tongue, mouth, hands, that made Sanji want to crumble to his knees.
What the hell was I thinking?
No matter how many times he repeated it, he couldn't remember why he thought the embarrassment of others finding out could possibly be worse than not being able to experience this.
Tangling his fingers in the swordsman's hair, Sanji finally gained enough coherence to be able to properly respond. He leaned forward and softly nibbled at Zoro's right earlobe. The muffled, rumbling cry that came out of the swordsman's mouth was like no sound he had heard from him before. He wanted to make the other man repeat it, over and over, until he was satisfied, but it was so hard to concentrate while a tongue and lips were greedily tracing his collarbone.
Their bodies pressed against each other, legs intertwined, pelvises grinding together. Zoro's hand had slipped further up his shirt; so far, in fact, that Sanji could feel cool air billowing against his exposed abdomen, where he assumed his shirt was pulled up.
But he didn't care. Still clutching a fistful of green hair, he wrapped his other arm firmly around the swordsman's broad back, so that he couldn't pull away even if he wanted to.
He heard a gasp that sounded much different than all of Zoro's previous lustful cries—almost startled. In surprise, he paused to look at Zoro, who had also fixed his gaze back on him with a similarly befuddled expression. In an instant, however, they both came to the same conclusion; that gasp hadn't been from either one of them.
In horror, Sanji turned toward the doorway of the kitchen. He was met with an abysmally blank stare.
Maybe blank wasn't the right way to put it—but he did find himself staring into two hollow, empty sockets. Perhaps the only thing to indicate the skeleton's shock was his jaw, which dropped so low, it was practically unhinged.
Sanji and Zoro were also too shocked to move, apparently. The cook inhaled sharply—he did not even dare imagine what they looked like at that moment.
"Oh my. My eyes must be playing tricks on me," Brook said composedly, staring at them.
Sanji was too petrified to move; Zoro seemed to be in a similar predicament.
Brook tilted his head slightly. "Oh, but I don't have have any."
Still, the two men did not move. Sanji found himself desperately wishing Zoro would at least take his hand out of his damn shirt.
"Yo-hohohoooo..." Brook laughed suddenly, making a graceful retreat as he slowly backed out of the doorway until he was no longer visible.
A moment later, he heard the creak of the door to the dining hall close—why the hell didn't it creak that loud when he was coming in? Sanji thought with frustration—and they were alone again.
Then the panic set in; that fight-or-flight sensation that left him trembling to his very core. Aggressively, he tried to shove Zoro away, managing to shake loose the hand that had been creeping under his shirt and put a few inches in between them.
Powerful hands grasping his wrists momentarily halted his struggle, however. After a moment, Sanji tried to renew his efforts, but he was unable to shake himself free from the swordsman's impervious grip.
"Just wait a minute," Zoro commanded, shoving Sanji backward, pinning his back against the counter while holding his arms in place at his side. "What the hell do you think running away is going to do now?"
"Let go of me, you bastard," Sanji responded through clenched teeth, still trying to free himself.
Unexpectedly, a stupidly hard head cracked against his own forehead, stunning him. He winced in surprise, wondering what the hell the shitty marimo was thinking.
"Shut up and listen to me," Zoro said, his eye tightly squeezed closed; surely he, too, was seeing stars from the head-butt.
"Why the hell should I," Sanji muttered with frustration, trying to ignore the pain; however, he did momentarily halt his struggling.
"That—" Zoro started, nodding his head in the direction of the doorway, obviously referring to Brook's inopportune entrance, "—That just happened. You can run and avoid me like before, but nothing is going to undo it."
"It doesn't mean I should keep letting it happen, just because you spout off a shitty philosophy at me," Sanji protested, averting his gaze from Zoro's intense stare, feeling uneasy about how easy it was to go with the flow when it came to the swordsman's fiery touch.
Swallowing hard, Sanji tried to ignore the stinging pain of his own hypocrisy. Mere moments ago, he had been wondering how he could have ever wanted to give it up—now he was ready to back out again. Why did it have to be so much easier to think he knew what he wanted than it was to actually have the balls to go through with it?
"Tch, why shouldn't you?" Zoro replied, his inflexible grip on his wrists started to subside as the swordsman continued speaking. "At some point, everyone's going to find out anyway."
Sanji stared at him disbelievingly. "How can you say it like it's no big deal… I don't want to deal with something that troublesome."
The swordsman's brow twitched. "It'll happen whether you want it to or not, stupid dartboard-brow."
"Then we should stop." Sanji replied. "How the hell can you be so casual about this?!"
"I'm not being casual about this—I've been worrying about the same damn things as you!" Zoro bellowed.
A flicker of surprise crossed Sanji's face; he had not expected such a fierce response.
"But I made a decision…" Zoro continued, his voice still raised, "and I'm going to stick with it, instead of pussyfooting back and forth about what I want to do like a damn brat."
Sanji's face contorted into a sneer. "Bastard, are you saying that's what I'm doing?"
Zoro looked at him condescendingly. "Damn right I am. Every time you act like you've made up your mind, you find an excuse to back out of it when the smallest thing happens."
"Having one of our nakama see you with your hand up my shirt isn't a 'small thing,' shitty marimo," Sanji disagreed. With difficulty, he tried to gather his words. "It's not that I'm saying I don't want this at all… but I don't want to face everyone about it, either. I don't know what to do to—"
"No one can get anything they want without sacrifice!" Zoro interrupted angrily, the hands around Sanji's wrists tightening again as the swordsman pressed his muscular body against him.
The intensity of his words—not to mention the pressure of his body again his own—left Sanji feeling momentarily breathless.
"You think I'm okay with this?!" Zoro continued angrily. "You think I would choose to have everybody find out? Because I fucking wouldn't. But if I want anything, there's something else I've got to give up."
Zoro's vehement gaze bore into him, and as desperately as he wanted to turn away, Sanji could not help but stare back. Looking at the swordsman's expression, he felt like his own feelings were being mirrored back at him; mortification, panic… and somewhere beneath it all, a simple want.
He became aware of how wildly his heart was pounding; he was sure Zoro could feel it, as their bodies pressed together so closely. But as he concentrated for a moment, the cook realized he could feel the other man's chest pounding as well.
For some reason, that racing heart surprised and captivated him. It was the second time he had noticed such a thing. Sanji unconsciously raised his hand and pressed it against the swordsman's chest.
An emotion that he thought might be embarrassment flickered across Zoro's face; with a faint blush, the green-haired man averted his gaze. But even if it made the other man a bit uncomfortable, Sanji did not pull away; he was too busy marveling over the breakneck speed of the other man's pounding heart.
It wasn't the reaction of a person who was being casual about what was happening, Sanji realized. It was someone who was just as distressed as he was… Once again, Sanji found himself in awe of Zoro's absence of hesitation, though. Just like that night on Coleherne Island, when he had patiently waited for Sanji to come to his decision—however halfhearted it may have been.
The other man's unwavering determination made him start to feel foolish inside. Zoro was right; he had to make a choice.
So I need to sacrifice something, huh… Sanji thought. He idly wondered if the thing he had to give up would be the comfort he found in his life.
But even if that was the case, to hell with it all.
Resolutely, Sanji stretched his arms outward, cupping his hands around the sides of Zoro's face. The hint of astonishment in the other man's eye made his heart skip; the small smile creeping at the corner of his lip that immediately followed made it skip again. And the feverish lips covering his own made it pound wildly out of control.
"Even if it gets hard," Zoro murmured in between ardent kisses, "I won't back down… My mind is made up."
"Tch, aren't you embarrassed at all, talking like that," Sanji replied, pressing his lips against Zoro's neck, murmuring his words into his burning skin. He felt Zoro shudder in delight.
"It's not embarrassing to resolve to do something," he replied, his voice a bit strained as he tried to hold back his pleasurable moans. "I don't know exactly what might need to be done, because I sure as hell haven't felt like this about anyone before. But since I've made up my mind, I won't be half-assed about it."
Sanji felt his cheeks redden. "I'm not some woman in need of a love confession," he muttered, his lips now near Zoro's ear. He nibbled at his earlobe softly, causing the swordsman's earring to jangle slightly.
"I didn't think you were," he responded when he could speak again.
Strong arms fiercely wrapped around him, forcing him closer, as smoldering lips crushed against his own, holding him in a kiss so fiery and suffocating that when they finally pulled away, he found himself gasping for air. It was like the conflagration of the other man's kiss was stealing all his oxygen away.
"I don't know what it means to be in love with somebody," Zoro murmured again, planting kisses along Sanji's mouth and jaw, eager hands rubbing sensually over the fabric of his pants along the inside of his thigh. "But you don't seem like you'll mind very much if I don't do it the way I'm supposed to." Sanji shivered in pleasure as the hand slowly crept upwards.
Still the swordsman continued speaking, his baritone voice making Sanji's heart feel like it was trembling. "And I don't care if you're in love with a thousand women, just as long as you're only in love with one man."
The cook's jaw parted slightly in astonishment. As the words sunk in, he realized it was a momentous comment for Zoro to make; even if he didn't really get what the hell the strange sentiment was supposed to mean, his words felt as real and impactful as a blow to his chest. There was no way he could hold it back for long, though...
He pulled back for a moment, clapping a hand over his mouth, observing the uncharacteristic blush on Zoro's cheeks. The swordsman averted his gaze, as though unable to take Sanji staring at him at that moment.
And then he couldn't hold it back anymore. At first, he tried to only let out a small chuckle, but after a moment, Sanji was roaring with laughter.
"The hell, shitty marimo... that... was such a... corny line," he cracked up, his eyes starting to tear.
Zoro's cheeks turned redder. "Oi, shut up, ero-cook!" he growled, shoving Sanji away from him, a slightly confused look on his face.
Sanji wasn't quite sure how to take Zoro's hackneyed comment, and he wasn't really in the mindset to mull it over too much. There was one thing he was certain of, however, and that was that the short space separating them felt far too large. Reaching out his hand to clutch the back of Zoro's head, he yanked the green-haired man back toward him, pulling him into a greedy kiss.
"Well, I'm pretty familiar with how damn stubborn you are when you make up your mind about something," Sanji commented when they briefly pulled their mouths apart, "so I guess I have some idea of how hard it's going to be for me to get out of this now."
"Ah," Zoro nodded. He started to lean forward so their lips could meet again.
Just as Sanji started to lean forward to meet the kiss, however, Zoro suddenly pulled his head away.
"Although it's going to be hard to put up with a stupid ero-cook more than I already have to," Zoro muttered, rubbing his chin as though deep in thought.
Sanji glared. "Tch, can't be worse than a shitty swordsman who doesn't know how to restrain himself."
"You're right, I really don't," Zoro agreed, resuming their kiss with a renewed energy.
This time it was Sanji's hand that slipped into Zoro's shirt, marveling once again over how his body seemed to be almost broiling as they pressed against each other.
With each touch against his skin, each stroke of their tongues sliding past each other, each grind against one another, Sanji felt his desire grow stronger.
He began to wonder what the next step was, in something like this... what they should do. The throbbing beneath his constrictive pants was almost unbearable.
The erotic slide of a hand against the clothes over his groin made him cry out. Sanji's face flushed a deep shade of red as he panted heavily, while he let the swordsman devour the sensitive skin by his neck and clavicle.
He felt like he could have continued like that forever; lost in pleasurable sensations, barely able to sense anything around him besides the other man's heated body. But it was actually Zoro who began to slow his movements, until finally their touching had regressed back into a simple, gentle kiss.
"I'm sleeping in the men's quarters tonight," Zoro said suddenly, out of nowhere, abruptly separating their lips.
Sanji was taken aback.
"Hah? You're not sleeping in the Crow's Nest?"
Zoro shook his head negatively. "Not tonight, no."
"The hell, but I..." Sanji trailed off, realizing he was about to unthinking say he was going to sleep up there with him.
The swordsman smirked, lightly scratching the outline of Sanji's jaw with a fingertip, tracing his finger over the coarse hair of his goatee. "What, you were gonna join me, ero-cook?" he finished the sentence. Before Sanji could try to deny it, he shook his head again, pulling his hand away from Sanji's face.
"See, that's the reason why." The swordsman peeled his body away from Sanji's, and the cook felt an aching throb as soon as they were no longer touching.
For some reason, Sanji suddenly felt very aggravated. Zoro's inexplicable halt seemed to come out of nowhere, and somewhere deep down, he had sort of been hoping something would happen.
In fact, with Zoro's pushy behavior, he expected to be led right into it... Even if he wasn't ready to make a move himself, or even if he realized it was a mistake later, he could have blamed the other man.
Standing in the doorway to the kitchen, Zoro turned back and smirked, a mirthful gleam in his eye. "Let's say I'm getting back at you for the last couple of weeks, ero-cook."
"Bastard," Sanji growled, but the swordsman had already retreated, presumably to head down to the men's quarters.
The cook adjusted his clothes uncomfortably. Honestly, he didn't see how Zoro was able to walk so casually at the moment... He was going to need at least a few minutes to cool down before he was ready to leave the kitchen.