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Roronoa Zoro sat at the booth with an annoyed expression, his hand wrapped tightly around a bottle of beer as he tried to ignore what was going on around him. Dressed in his usual attire, the swordsman stuck out amongst the people there like a sore thumb; everyone else in various states of semi-undress or black clothing. There’d been a dress code at the door but they’d let him in anyway, not daring to argue the fact and a little too enchanted by who he’d brought with him. His eye twitched as he heard moans coming from behind him, a scowl covering his lips as he looked about for his partner.
He hated places like these, with their low mood lighting and loud music that did little to mask what was happening – what was the point if he could tell anyway? To make the patrons feel more comfortable in their skin while they did all manner of perverse things? Zoro simply didn’t get it. Such activities were more interesting for him when they were one-on-one.
Scanning the room, the swordsman tried not to get agitated by the sheer amount of things on display. Though some people were dressed from head-to-toe in leather or dark suits, others barely had anything on at all: choosing to parade their bodies around like they were desperate to let people see every part of them. If he was honest, he found the whole thing quite distasteful. There were times and occasions for such things and this was not one of them.
Unfortunately for Zoro, his partner was one of the latter group – clad in barely anything at all as he strutted across the room, flashing smiles at anyone who so much as looked his way. The cook was wearing women’s lingerie; a small black thong and balconette bra with mint green highlights along with a black garterbelt that held up meshy see-through stockings that went halfway up his thighs.
Zoro had to admit the look was good on him, drew his gaze to every part of Sanji that usually got him excited. Everything just seemed to enhance the litheness of his body, made his powerful legs seem even longer and leaner than he knew they were. Even empty, the bra grabbed attention; Sanji’s pink nipples appearing even starker on his pale skin when they were next to the green like that.
On some level the swordsman knew that Sanji had chosen the clothes for that mint alone. It was the same shade as his own hair, a subtle sign that marked who the cook belonged to though he doubted anyone else here would put two and two together. Despite small details like that Sanji was a massive flirt, often misleading people into thinking they had a chance with him.
It didn’t help that the idiot was a show off by nature, drinking up every second of attention and still craving more. To some degree, Sanji was social to a fault: having abandoned Zoro at this seat like a shopping bag in the galley as he’d immediately gone off to mingle with other people. The cook knew Zoro found no joy being in this kind of establishment, didn’t want to come here in the first place yet he always seemed to leave him behind in his egotistical pleasure-seeking every single time.
Evidently just turning people’s heads and getting compliments thrown his way wasn’t enough for Sanji this time; Zoro’s eye following him as he made his way to a stripper pole in the centre of the room, lit up much like the main attraction at a circus.
If the swordsman hadn’t already been scowling he would have started now. Stupid hedonistic bastard and his obnoxious need to have everyone’s attention on him. One day it was going to bite him in the ass, Zoro was sure of it.
As Sanji spun around the pole and thrust his hips against it, Zoro heard a low whistle to his left.
“Whew, that boy sure is pretty. He yours?”
The swordsman huffed in his seat, annoyed by the stranger’s gall to even speak to him.
“Yeah, that slutty exhibitionist belongs to me.” Truth be told, he knew Sanji got off on putting himself on display like this. Liked people watching him as he stretched himself into weird positions. Loved teasing people into being interested and then leave them wanting more. That didn’t mean Zoro had to like it though.
As if reading his mind, Sanji lifted his leg over his head and wrapped his ankle around the pole, sliding down on his other leg to perform an extended-split on the floor. Everyone screamed.
“I’d like to play with him tonight.” The stranger was eager, eyes on Sanji’s ass.
“No.” Zoro’s response was quick, tinged with anger. “I don’t share.”
“It’s a pity. I can pay you if you want.” Why couldn’t this bastard just give up? How many times was he going to have to make himself clear? Zoro felt a vein throb in his forehead as he turned to glare at the moron in distaste.
“What part of no do you not understand, you prick?” He spat the words as though they were filled with venom, the fingers of his unoccupied hand flexing as he subconsciously reached for his swords.
He didn’t have them with him, had been required to leave them behind to even come to this club in the first place. Not that he needed them to make his point but with a blade aimed in their direction, anyone usually gave up on pissing him off in an instant – that was, if just their presence alone wasn’t enough of a deterrent. Zoro had the feeling that this particular moron was the kind of man who would have annoyed him anyway, the kind of bastard that didn’t think of anything other than his own wants.
“Alright, alright. Just thought I’d offer.” The man huffed and walked off, far away from the angered swordsman. Exactly what Zoro had wanted.
Turning his head back, Zoro kept his eyes on Sanji as he became more and more daring with his pole tricks. Curved his back, spread his legs around widely and gave everyone an eyeful. Zoro’s eye twitched in annoyance and impatience; the swordsman just wanting to leave and get his hands on every inch of him. Zoro knew Sanji was doing this for himself; to feed his urges for showing off and getting attention. Why his own wasn’t good enough by itself, he’d never know.
Sanji met his gaze for a moment and kicked both legs out in his direction, hanging onto the pole with just his hands. Zoro scowled back at him, unimpressed. Were this just a show for him, he could enjoy it but as it was he hated that others could see it too. Was too wrapped up in the noises of the onlookers to feel even a little pleased about it.
The cook rolled his eyes at him and went back to spinning, ignoring him for now. He’d told Sanji many times that the small moments of ‘service’, as Sanji so aptly liked to call it, weren’t good enough for him; he didn’t know why the blond idiot even bothered any more.
When Sanji finally finished his performance, he was flushed and sweaty, grinning from ear to ear. Zoro drained the last bit of beer from his bottle, making it the fifth one since they’d gotten in here. Indulging him was so annoying sometimes.
He personally didn’t care much for scenes like this. If it was entirely up to him it would have just been the pair of them in a hotel all night long where no one else could interrupt them. Yet when Sanji made puppy eyes at him and said he really wanted to go play elsewhere, there was nothing Zoro could do but agree to it. If he didn’t he knew the cook would spend the night sulking and being uncooperative – it was better to come here for a few hours to alleviate his urges. At least this way Sanji would be enthusiastic later; more than eager to do whatever Zoro wanted with a slutty look on his face.
The frustrating man from earlier made his way to Sanji, clearly flirting with him. Much to Zoro’s displeasure, Sanji started flirting back. Every now and then his gaze flicked back Zoro, teasing him. He knew it angered him but liked to do it anyway; it was like Sanji just wanted to piss him off in everything he did. The stupid idiot loved attention, didn’t know when to quit.
When the man leaned closer and rested his hand on Sanji’s hip, Zoro’s patience crumbled. He was over in a flash, gripping the man’s wrist so tightly he could feel the bones creaking in his hand, giving under his strength. There was a loud crunching noise and the man screamed.
“Shit!”
Zoro felt his fingers sink into the man’s flesh far deeper than they should have, felt muscle and bone trembling around them. Didn’t care. Wouldn’t care. Dug in just that little more out of spite, watching the man’s face go pale as he freaked out and stared back at him in horror.
“What are you doing??” Sanji yelled, grabbing Zoro’s arm to pry him away. Though Sanji was straining from his efforts the swordsman didn’t budge an inch, unconcerned even as blood pooled into his palm and dripped off. Rage was boiling through his veins, not sated by this in the slightest.
“Don’t fucking touch my things.”
As the man violently nodded his head, Zoro let go. It wasn’t enough to calm him down but the hysteria he could feel bleeding through the rest of the dungeon was giving him a headache. Everyone was yelling in panic, making his ears ache as he longed for them all to just shut the fuck up.
He didn’t trust this man one bit. Didn’t trust anyone here now. They were all out to lay their hands on Sanji. They all wanted him. Sanji was going to let them do it, too. He was Zoro’s, but he didn’t fucking act like it. Had to always lead people on with his stupid bedroom eyes, tease them into desiring him when he should have fucking known better.
Zoro wished he had his swords with him. No one would have dared to pull anything if he had.
The swordsman came back to himself a little as he noticed Sanji tugging his arm again. Everyone seemed to be screaming, making Zoro’s head ring. Closing his eyes, Zoro took a deep breath before he scooped Sanji into his arms and started to make his way to the door. The blood was smearing on Sanji’s leg and stockings where he’d lifted it, just incensing him further as Sanji smacked at his head and kept yelling at him.
“Oi, shithead, what the—” Zoro tuned Sanji out as he stormed out of the building, leaving their coats and other belongings behind. He just didn’t give a shit right now about things like that – he had to get Sanji somewhere else, get this disgusting blood off of him. Nothing else mattered right now.
The pitch of the cook’s voice raised even louder as he went into the street, Sanji wriggling in his grip while trying to cover himself up. Zoro supposed that was reasonable, given he was barely wearing anything at all but didn’t feel the need to help him out. If Sanji liked showing his body off so much, why did the location matter? What was the point in trying to hide it now?
Zoro’s teeth grit tightly as he saw people turning their heads in surprise. Of course they were going to draw attention like this; half naked and splashed with blood. It would have been weird if they didn’t.
Sanji was gripping onto the collar of his coat, yanking at it and looking at him with anger in his eyes. As if he had something to be mad about. Zoro supposed he could take it off, let the cook wear it but knew that if he put Sanji down for even a second he was going to be met with a foot directly in his face. The only reason Sanji hadn’t done so yet was his harsh grip on his legs – that or the fact that he’d be dropped on his ass in the puddles that currently adorned the streets.
Still, the whole thing was starting to really get to him; all noise and discomfort as onlookers stared and spoke in what they thought were hushed tones. Zoro could hear them easily, knew just what they saying. When someone shakily whispered they were going to call the marines, the swordsman lost his temper. Fine.
Dipping into an alleyway just out of sight, Zoro lowered Sanji’s ankles to the ground, still holding tightly onto his back. He didn’t have time for this, didn’t feel collected enough to deal with the delay with any sense of calm. As Sanji tried to push out of his grip, Zoro’s free hand balled into a fist, punching him hard in the gut. A choked gasp met his ears as Sanji’s hands shook against his clothes; the cook looking at him in surprise before blacking out onto his chest.
Zoro only spared a few moments to look at the head of blond hair before he started undoing his sash, putting it between his jaws as he shrugged his coat off of his shoulder. He juggled Sanji from one side of his body to rest against the other, holding him up over his elbow as he reached around to pull his coat off. Sanji hung over his arm limply, unable to resist or say a word whilst Zoro used it to cover him up; yanking the sash from his teeth to tie it tightly around the cook’s waist.
He didn’t even bother pulling Sanji’s arms through the sleeves, pinning them against his sides under the clothes before hoisting him over his shoulder. Now that he was unconscious the cook was easier to carry; Zoro no longer having to concern himself with his frantic struggling or bitching. It did nothing to calm him down but it certainly made things less frustrating.
Single-minded in his rage, Zoro stepped back onto the main street, his eyes drawn to the slope that led straight back to the pier. Though they’d had a hotel booked, he no longer had the key; having left it in Sanji’s coat back at that shitty club. Not that he even remembered where the damn hotel was in the first place, let alone its name. That sort of thing was usually left to the cook since he claimed he was so much better at it. Too bad he couldn’t do anything now, but even if it was still an option Zoro didn’t want to go there.
The idea of dealing with hotel staff and fumbling his way into a room with Sanji slung over his shoulder was too annoying. Having to listen to others talking through the walls, keep his voice down and be cautious of drawing more attention was unappealing as well: Zoro wanted no further interruptions, no more distractions. No more idiots enamoured by his attention-seeking exhibitionist.
Making his way down the street, Zoro noticed people were still turning to look at them. It didn’t even occur to him that the sight of a half-naked man carrying another one that was passed out was still weird, would still draw attention.
As far as he could see, dressing Sanji had just been a waste of time.
Though this time the looks were not in fear or disgust, more out of curiosity and nerves. A few hushed whispers wondered if Sanji was drunk, if he was being carried like that because he couldn’t walk on his own. That was probably alright; no one was saying a word about calling for help now, much to Zoro’s relief. One less thing to have to deal with.
Turning his head to assess what they looked like anyway, Zoro noticed that the evidence of where they’d been until now was hard to notice. His bloodied hand was now on his sash, blending in with the deep red and making it almost impossible to see whilst the coat mostly covered Sanji’s lower body, hiding the bloody handprint. The only things that really stood out were the stockings that adorned the cook’s legs which, whilst weird, wasn’t much to be surprised by.
Everything was going to be alright.
As soon as they made it to the Sunny, he was going to be able to calm down.
Or so he thought.
--
However, just being back on the ship was not enough to ease Zoro’s frustrations.
When he’d gotten back, he’d sat Sanji down on one of the chairs in the dining room, grabbing a wet cloth from the sink as he’d crouched to clean away the blood. Just the smell of it made him feel sick, like that man had still kept his hands on Sanji this entire time. As though every touch Zoro had made had been from him instead.
Zoro grit his teeth as he scrubbed at his own hand, the remnants of blood left behind just making him angrier. He wasn’t concerned about the stuff on his own clothes but he stripped them from Sanji anyway, leaving him in just the lingerie as he threw them aside. His swords rested up against the dining room table, briefly shaking as his coat passed by.
One of the strings on the garterbelt had snapped by now, damaged somehow in the flurry of what had taken place. He didn’t care. Though it looked fantastic on Sanji he never wanted him to wear it ever again, never wanted to be reminded of this night for the rest of his life.
Fuck going to stupid places to make the cook happy anymore – it simply wasn’t worth it. Whether he continued to endure such things or not wouldn’t make a difference, probably never had in the first place.
The swordsman felt oddly like Sanji had just been toying with him this entire time; using everything at his disposal just to wind him up and mock him, make him angry so he’d fuck him just how he wanted it. Zoro didn’t want to play into Sanji’s hands like that anymore. If the idiot had just asked him outright he would have done it anyway – why he had to try to make him jealous was beyond him.
Did the cook have his own secret sadistic streak or something? That would probably explain it but certainly didn’t make Zoro feel better about the whole thing.
His anger shifted more and more towards Sanji as he looked at him, taking in his soft blond hair and beautiful features. There was a red mark on his stomach from where Zoro had punched him, already beginning to swell and go purple. It would be a hell of a bruise but instead of feeling guilt over it, the swordsman just felt more vindictive.
This wouldn’t have happened if the cook didn’t offer himself to others on a plate. If he didn’t practically stress-test his emotions at every possible turn. Why was it so hard for Sanji to just be faithful? To have a normal relationship where he didn’t feel the need to push Zoro until breaking point? They’d always antagonised each other but things were different now. Sanji didn’t need to act out to get his attention – he gave it willingly, prioritised him above everything else. Why couldn’t the cook do the same?
All the swordsman wanted to do was keep Sanji for himself. He’d thought that’s what relationships were about; tying yourselves to each other no matter what. Evidently Sanji did not think the same way.
He didn’t know if he could take the half-hearted commitment anymore. Either the cook wanted to be with him or he wanted to go flaunt himself in front of strangers. After this, Zoro would not allow both.
The thought that Sanji would choose that over him made Zoro suddenly very uneasy. At any other time he could have waved it off, could have denied it but when push came to shove, he couldn’t bear the thought. After all they’d been through, after all they’d done by now he needed Sanji. Imagining what they had being broken off caused the rage to flow through him again; hotter and more intense than before. His hand reflexively grasped one of his swords, the familiar weight of the hilt in his hand doing nothing to calm him.
The cook still hadn’t come to yet, was still just lying back against the chair looking heavenly in his sleep. By now though, the swordsman knew better. Behind that angelic face was a devil of a brat, someone who had no problem driving others crazy for their own self-satisfaction.
Despite knowing that, having seen the fickle and flirty nature for himself, Zoro didn’t want to give him up. Even if Sanji begged him to, even if he kicked the shit out of him. There was a limit to what Zoro would put up with and a life where the cook wasn’t his was far over it. But even in the event that he talked to him about it, that Sanji decided to choose him, there was actually no guarantee that he’d stick to it. Sanji’s exhibitionism seemed to know no bounds, take no prisoners.
Agitated beyond all reason, the swordsman reached for Sanji again; grabbing him by the arm and flinging him face-down onto the floor. He wasn’t going to give him the choice.
Zoro stood on Sanji’s back, holding him down as he drew Wadou Ichimonji from her sheath. If the cook couldn’t be trusted not to put himself in these situations, then he couldn’t just let him do as he pleased. He couldn’t let him out of his sight. After what had happened in the club, there was no telling what might occur next time. No matter what, Zoro didn’t want something like this to happen again. Which meant there was only one thing he could do: make it impossible for the cook to do things like this ever again.
Swinging his sword from the side, Zoro sliced through the thick muscles connecting Sanji’s ankles to his calves. The edge of the blade dragged across bone on its way past, sending tremors up his arm.
The cook jerked into awareness at the violent motion, his scream of pain reverberating around the room in a way that made Zoro feel a little sick. He didn’t really want to hurt him, he was doing it for his own good. If Sanji couldn’t go out alone then he’d be safer. Maybe he’d understand that someday.
Blood was dripping from his blade as Zoro looked at the wounds, feeling satisfied with how clean the cuts were. Underneath him, he heard Sanji vomit onto the floor, the cook’s body jerking under him from the strain of throwing up.
Stepping off of him, Zoro crouched down to stroke at Sanji’s hair. Sanji pulled away, twisting around as he grabbed at his ankles and shook all over. His face was contorted in panic and agony as he clasped tighter, his head snapping to stare at Zoro in terror.
Resting his hand on Sanji’s cheek, Zoro let go of Wadou and let her fall to the floor.
“It’s okay,” Zoro leaned in closer, Sanji flinching in his palm. “I’m going to keep you safe.”
Sanji didn’t say a word, didn’t move except for the extreme trembling of his body against the floor. Zoro recognised it as shock; had seen it many times during his fights when he’d slashed his enemies. His heart melted in sympathy but he didn’t regret his choice.
The cook was staring into his eyes like he was transfixed by them, Sanji’s own pupils shrinking as the irises shook slightly from side to side. It made Zoro want to reassure him further, calm him down. It was going to be alright.
Zoro kissed at the side of Sanji’s face, stroking his hands down his neck to his chest soothingly. The cook’s heartbeat was irregular under his fingertips, just causing Zoro to want to ease his stress all the more. Before he knew it he was pushing him down to the floor; his hands smoothing over every inch of Sanji’s skin. It was still soft to the touch, despite being covered in a cold sweat.
As he pushed his tongue into Sanji’s mouth he was disappointed by the lack of response in return. It was unlike Sanji to not be in the mood for kissing but he supposed it didn’t matter. Maybe he’d feel like it later, when Zoro had calmed him down more.
Besides, Zoro could taste the vomit on Sanji’s tongue and teeth, the acidic flavour of bile a little off-putting. If he’d been kissed back he’d have accepted it, tangled his tongue with the cook’s until neither of them could breathe. There wasn’t much he wouldn’t do as long as Sanji wanted it, no matter how disgusting or repulsive it would have seemed to anyone else. His feelings were just that strong.
He pulled back from Sanji’s lips, moved his own to the cook’s neck. He could feel his pulse against his tongue, felt the urge to bite down but resisted. Zoro always got told off when he left marks on Sanji’s skin, despite the cook not hesitating to scratch his back or squeeze his waist until he bruised. The hypocrisy got on his nerves yet he had never once complained about it. In some ways it was just endearing.
Though Sanji was still out of it and this hadn’t been his intention, Zoro found himself growing aroused.
Now that he’d done this the cook was all his; would have to rely on him and not wander off to get himself into trouble. There would be no more public pole dancing, no more flirting with other people. Sanji would realise that the only person he needed was the swordsman, would respond to his feelings properly from now on.
Zoro wanted to keep Sanji away from the rest of the world. He’d protect him for sure but would dedicate all his time to Sanji if that’s what he needed. Give him every ounce of his attention, fill him up with everything Zoro felt until Sanji admitted his actions until now had been stupid and apologised. He was more than happy to remodel the cook to be more obedient, to fit what Zoro hoped he’d be.
If he could have, he would have locked him in a cage where he could just watch him all day. Attending to whatever needs he had in the knowledge that Sanji was safe from prying eyes and unwanted touches. It would probably have driven Sanji mad, made him resentful and lash out but the swordsman would have been fine with that.
Realistically he knew that a cage wouldn’t have worked out. Sanji was very smart, often cunning and he knew that from experience. It wouldn’t have been long before the cook would have escaped or somehow flipped their positions so Zoro was trapped inside it instead. If Sanji’s feelings for him were anything like his own he would have been happy to be his captive, though he’d still be concerned about his safety.
That’s why this way was better: he could count on it on a lot more.
It wasn’t like this would affect Sanji forever anyway; Chopper would surely be more than capable of getting him healed up perfectly. All the injuries really did was give Zoro time to help Sanji be better, and he planned on using it to its fullest.
Giving in to his own desire, Zoro shifted to push Sanji back into the floor. He climbed over him, pushing Sanji’s legs apart with his knees as he lay bodily against him, the swordsman’s fingers sliding around his back to unhook the bra. It was pretty but it was in the way; Zoro reaching up to undo the small bow at the back of Sanji’s neck. It became loose almost instantly, getting pushed away as Zoro leaned down to kiss over Sanji’s chest.
The thong was next to go; looped into Zoro’s thumbs as he dragged it down Sanji’s thighs, bunching them up against his own chest since he was in the way. He was grateful for the cook’s forethought and vanity in having explained how to wear such things when they were getting ready at the hotel. Apparently most people didn’t realise to wear the underwear over the top of the garters, didn’t think ahead to when they’d need to remove them later. Sanji had explained it in excitement and though he hadn’t cared at the time, the information was certainly useful now.
Still, the damn things were getting frustrating.
Sanji’s knees were now pressed into Zoro’s abdomen and though the image was quite hot, that wasn’t what he wanted. His own preference was those long legs wrapped around his waist, clinging onto him for support while he pounded away.
For a moment, Zoro paused. He was supposed to be comforting Sanji; making sure the cook could recover from his daze. What he liked should be irrelevant, he should be focusing on things that Sanji liked instead. And Sanji preferred being taken from behind.
Laughing at himself in amusement, Zoro pulled back and rolled Sanji onto his front. How silly of him to get caught up in his own wants at a time like this.
The new position meant the lingerie was no longer an obstacle; Sanji’s ass bared to him in a way that made his cock jump. He grabbed onto it eagerly, groping and squeezing roughly, just how Sanji liked it. A few small noises left the cook at the molestation, causing Zoro to grin. Yeah, this was the better option. Giving it to Sanji how he liked it best would definitely make him more at ease.
The swordsman was feeling a little impatient by now though, rubbing his thumbs up and down Sanji’s inner thighs before spreading him wide. Sanji’s entrance gaped slightly at the motion, drawing his gaze and making him lick his lips. It was almost as though the cook was already prepared and ready for him; as eager to take him in as he was to push inside. As Zoro shifted his hand to press a finger against it, he shuddered in excitement as he realised that was exactly the case.
He didn’t know how and he didn’t know when, but Sanji had clearly played with his own ass that night. The muscle was soft to the touch, his finger slipping in without any resistance and finding wetness already there. He growled in his throat at the lube, pushing a second finger in just to test it. When it too went in without issue, he pulled his hand back and grabbed Sanji’s hips tightly.
The thought that Sanji had been ready for him at any time this evening got him so riled up he couldn’t stand it. What a slutty little bitch his lover was, how thoughtful and erotic did Sanji have to be? Perhaps this is what that weird ‘service’ on the pole had been about; maybe Sanji had wanted him to figure it out and drag him off instead of waiting for him to get bored. Not that it mattered now, of course.
Eyes lidding, Zoro pushed his cock right up against Sanji and slid in in one smooth motion. Even though he’d been prepped earlier he was still tighter than usual, causing Zoro to groan in satisfaction.
Sanji made a noise too – a strangled confused one. Like he still didn’t really know what was going on.
Shuddering, Zoro moved his hands to stroke up and down the cook’s sides as he felt Sanji twitching around him, adjusting to him. It was hard to hold back from just fucking him immediately, but he could tell he was still in distress.
Making sounds of reassurance, the swordsman resumed petting over Sanji’s body. Taking slow caresses over his skin with his fingertips, brushing his thumb against Sanji’s cheek when his hands reached his face. Being gentle and light with every movement, showing his feelings as softly as he could.
The cook had known for a long time just how deeply Zoro felt for him; he’d been told many times. After each one he would flush red, smack at Zoro in agitation and tell him to shut up, clearly embarrassed. Sanji didn’t like it when Zoro said it so clearly but it was difficult for the swordsman to hold the words back at times; the feelings overwhelming him and overflowing from his lips when he wasn’t paying attention. Even if he wasn’t saying it the words would lurk at the back of his mind, ready to cause trouble at a moment’s notice.
Zoro took a breath as he slowly began rocking his hips, testing his range of movement as well as the cook’s reaction. Sanji moaned softly as he pushed right up against his prostate, a smile coming to Zoro’s lips as he did it again. It wasn’t nearly as loud as he knew Sanji could get but it was a good start – the noise would come later, when he was doing him exactly how he liked it.
Moving his arms to wrap Sanji’s waist, Zoro pressed his face into the back of his neck and closed his eyes. The intimacy felt so good, touching at every point made him feel calm. Everything Sanji was was beneath him, every inch of his body against Zoro’s; exactly how it should always be. No distractions, no complaints. Just the two of them together, feeling pleasure from each other.
Unable to help himself, the swordsman began thrusting forward faster. Longer strokes, deeper and deeper until he couldn’t possibly reach inside any further. He wanted to hear more of Sanji’s moans, more of his lusty voice as he was taken over and filled up as far as he could get. Zoro wanted to crawl inside Sanji’s skin and never leave.
His feelings bubbled to the surface, the swordsman not holding back as he let the words fall from his lips.
“I love you,” Zoro moaned, slamming his hips even harder into Sanji. His voice was soft and full of devotion even as he held him down, his knuckles turning white. “Sanji, I love you.” He kept repeating the words as he squeezed him even tighter, cradling his body as close as he could get it.
Sanji wasn’t saying anything, just lying under him and letting out choked sobs. Zoro didn’t understand. Did he really hate it that much when he said it? The feeling was uncomfortable but he didn’t let it stop him. He’d been holding them in for far too long, far too many times.
Zoro’s voice dropped to a whisper as he kept moving, speaking right by Sanji’s ear. His hands slid around Sanji’s front slowly; one up his chest and one down to his penis. Sanji’s heartbeat was still irregular, still worrying, but his cock was fully erect and leaking precum. Even if he was still out of it his body was feeling good.
As soon as Zoro gripped onto it he was stroking Sanji roughly; moving his hand up and down on him like if he stopped he’d die. His breath caught as the cook tightened on him for a moment, just fuelling him to keep going and groan more insistently into his ear. Declaring his commitment like a mantra as his body strained to bring Sanji to the brink.
When Sanji came it was in silence; his ass squeezing around Zoro just like usual. Pushing him over the edge as it always did – clamping down on him as though it was trying to milk every last drop from his body. Zoro responded by shoving as deep as he could get, teeth grit as he gave him everything he had. Leaving at least a part of himself behind temporarily where he wished he could be forever.
He didn’t want to pull out, didn’t ever want there to be a moment where he and Sanji weren’t connected like this. He’d spend the rest of his life inside him if he could, buried right up where it felt good for the pair of them. Unfortunately it wasn’t an option – now spent his cock had started to soften, only still inside the cook from how close their bodies were still pressed together.
It was with great reluctance that Zoro drew back his hips, sighing as he kissed at the back of Sanji’s neck again. The cook wasn’t making any noise now, had stopped a while ago. He’d have been more worried if he couldn’t still feel Sanji’s pulse against his fingertips; still irregular but soothing to him nonetheless.
Zoro turned Sanji over, lying back on top of him as he stroked his hands over his body. Sanji’s face was wet with tears, his eyes unseeing though they were still open. Maybe he’d been a little harsher with him than was necessary but he couldn’t help it; once he’d gotten inside him it had been difficult to hold himself back, the pleasure pushing away his frustration little by little as time had gone on.
Besides, it wasn’t like he didn’t know Sanji liked it rough as well. The cook often begged him to go harder, gasping and trembling when he responded as he’d asked. Sanji always seemed to cum more intensely when Zoro treated him that way, just gripping him tighter with every stroke. In fact, the swordsman couldn’t recall a time Sanji had asked him for anything else.
The swordsman smiled down at his lover, feeling a lot more at peace now. Clearly Sanji was just tired, fucked to within an inch of his life just like he liked it. It wasn’t that weird that he’d be dazed. Maybe it had just been a little much for him this time, what with his legs bleeding and all.
Now more aware of Sanji’s injury, of the blood he could feel sticking his own legs to the floor, Zoro shifted his weight off of the cook a little bit. He could smell its scent thick in the air, mixed with the smell of sex and cum. Sanji’s blood smelt sweet, made his head spin.
Perhaps the blood loss had just made Sanji dizzy; enhanced his pleasure beyond what he was used to. Zoro had experienced that many times by now, having never held back from sex even when he’d been badly injured. It made sense.
Reaching down, Zoro dipped his fingers into one of Sanji’s wounds before bringing it to his lips. As he licked it from his fingers, a shudder ran down his spine. The flavour of the rare blood type was a little addictive, the swordsman not used to it. And now it was definitely all his. Sanji was all his.
In the back of his mind, Zoro knew he had done something wrong, something Sanji wouldn’t like. But that was the thing: Sanji always did things he knew Zoro didn’t like, no matter how many times he had told him so. The swordsman had put up with it for a long time. Sanji could put up with this.
It was his own fault anyway.
Zoro cuddled closer to Sanji and buried his face in his hair. He was starting to feel sleepy and if the cook was already out of it, now was a good time to rest. There was going to be a lot to deal with when he woke up – not only the cleaning of the blood and Sanji’s inevitable freak out but the reaction of their crew when they came back and saw what had happened.
They’d definitely have a lot of things to say about all this but right now the swordsman didn’t care. As long as they left Sanji alone – realised who he belonged to – then there would be no problem. Even if they were crewmates he wasn’t going to stand for them interfering, never had. It was always Zoro who was the voice of reason, the one who guided Luffy away from making stupid mistakes. They’d know he was right here too.
The smile didn’t leave Zoro’s face even as he drifted off into sleep, his limbs tangled tightly around Sanji. Caring, protecting, possessive. Even if they were found like this, he knew his crew would understand.
And if they didn’t? He had no problem teaching them to, just like that disgusting bastard from the club.