Chapter Text
The sound of the cork popping echoed through the room, quickly followed by the delicate clink of crystal glasses being filled.
Sanji was a man of taste. Not an epicurean in the vulgar sense of the term, but a genuine connoisseur of food and wine.
He had taken advanced oenology classes during his hospitality training. He had even graduated top of his class despite originally studying culinary arts.
He did not do it out of pretension, but out of passion, though nobody ever seemed willing to believe that. The handsome blond simply assumed men were jealous and women admiring.
The young woman sitting across from him, to whom he was currently pouring a pinot noir, looked delighted watching him in action. She quickly tucked a strand of black hair behind her ear.
It was their third date, and Sanji was not a little proud to have invited such a charming woman into his apartment. She was in her thirties, just like him. They had met during a breast cancer charity event. Sanji had been volunteering there, raising funds for an organization that organized banquets for the city’s elite.
When he was not working in the kitchen, Sanji would walk through the dining hall talking to — and charming — potential donors. Or rather, female donors. Using his looks and talent for a cause directly tied to these women? That, in his eyes, was an honest way to live. If his pleasure was charming people, he might as well combine business with pleasure.
Sometimes, like tonight, the seduction genuinely worked. The young woman was especially attentive to Sanji, and he himself enjoyed listening to her talk about music since she was a pianist.
Sanji had prepared a creamy pumpkin velouté as a starter, and by the time they reached the main course, they were already on their second bottle of wine. His guest’s cheeks were flushed pink from the alcohol. The blond decided to slow things down a little by offering her only one more glass alongside a glass of water.
The evening dragged pleasantly on, and Sanji slipped out onto the balcony while Meiko was in the bathroom, allegedly to freshen up before dessert. The host lit himself a cigarette, pretty damn tipsy himself by now, savoring the cool night air. He loosened the collar of his off-white shirt and closed his eyes for a moment, elbows resting against the railing, head pleasantly foggy.
The alcohol made him lose his balance for half a second and, while catching himself against the iron railing, he accidentally knocked over the lighter he had left perched there. His gold-plated Zippo fell straight into the inner courtyard below. He cursed under his breath and pushed his hair back into place.
Sanji went back inside and awkwardly apologized for having to leave his guest alone in his apartment for a moment. But he only had one lighter for the evening, and he would need it for the cigarette he reserved for himself every night before bed.
He headed downstairs, loosening his tie as he descended the stairwell. The alcohol made him feel warm, as did the stress of possibly having damaged his collector’s item.
To access the inner courtyard, he would have to bother his downstairs neighbor around ten at night. The hour was unacceptable, and the situation made him deeply uncomfortable.
Standing in front of the wooden door, the handsome blond cleared his throat quietly, hoping he would not be disturbing someone this late at night. Hoping not to draw the wrath of a neighbor he barely ever crossed paths with.
He knocked gently but clearly. Three times. He waited a few moments. Nothing. His jaw tightened at the thought of having to go to bed without his nightly cigarette, and the idea made him knock again — louder this time, and slightly less graceful.
Sanji heard dragging footsteps approaching before the door finally opened.
The first thing that caught the blond man’s attention was not his neighbor’s outfit. Not the ridiculously short athletic shorts low enough for the waistband of his boxers to show. Nor the sweat-stained tank top exposing one stubbornly visible nipple. Not even the tanned biceps threatening to burst with every movement.
No.
It was the glass tupperware container the athlete was holding in his hands. Through the transparent lid, Sanji could make out what appeared to be rice and chicken so pale it looked whiter than a newborn baby’s ass. Sanji wrinkled his nose immediately, utterly scandalized by such a shameful display of under-seasoning.
He completely forgot his request — and the fact that it was absolutely not an acceptable hour to show up at someone’s door. What kind of barbarian ate straight out of a tupperware container without even bothering to use a plate?
Sanji nearly jumped when a particularly deep voice echoed through the doorway.
“Need something?”
The blond blinked briefly at the neutral expression on his neighbor’s face. The man did not seem surprised by the late hour. Nor by Sanji standing in front of him. He simply brought another spoonful of rice to his mouth without much concern.
Suddenly reminded of basic social etiquette, Sanji bowed his head slightly.
“Good evening, please forgive the disturbance. I accidentally dropped my lighter into your courtyard. Would it be possible for me to retrieve it quickly?”
Sanji received no immediate answer and looked back up in confusion. He met the gaze of his green-haired neighbor, whose raised eyebrow looked even more confused than he was.
“You need a lighter? I can just give you one if you want.” he said around a mouthful of food.
Sanji resisted the urge to comment with tremendous difficulty. The alcohol was pounding against his temples.
“No, thank you. It’s a collector’s lighter. I’m rather attached to it.”
The man stepped aside to let him in while continuing to stare at him with open curiosity. They looked like two strange species encountering one another for the first time — which, technically, they were.
Sanji was surprised his neighbor had taken him at his word so easily. He stepped inside the apartment and immediately removed his shoes. The blond instinctively searched for guest slippers.
There were none.
The downstairs neighbor simply walked around barefoot in his own home. Sanji tensed slightly at the realization he would have to remain in socks on the wooden floor.
The green-haired man crossed his apartment to guide him toward the veranda. The place was simple and bare. Sanji followed him while carefully avoiding looking around too much like some nosy animal, only to find himself standing in wet grass in nothing but his socks.
He wanted to scream.
His heartbeat quickened slightly from both the sensory horror and the alcohol. He pulled out his phone and turned on the flashlight, searching desperately for the lighter.
He clenched his teeth, praying this assault on his senses would end immediately. The blond was already struggling to stand upright properly and feared that bending over too quickly would send him crashing face-first into the ground.
Despite paying attention to that exact issue, Sanji stepped on a rock and completely wiped out.
Flat on the ground.
He prayed to every god he did not even believe in that his neighbor had not just witnessed him crawling around in the dirt on all fours with his ruined Hermès trousers.
Slowly, Sanji turned his head.
His neighbor stood there with shoulders barely fitting inside the doorframe, one shoulder lazily leaning against it. The athlete continued eating his meal in silence while watching him with the calm fascination of someone binge-watching Netflix.
“You want help?” he asked out of basic principle, seemingly unsure how drunk the blond actually was.
“No… I’m fine, thank you.”
Sanji expected the man to leave after that, but he simply kept watching him, head tilted slightly to the side. Eventually, a smile formed at the corner of his lips. The blond assumed it was mockery… though the delayed reaction made it oddly difficult to tell.
Still on all fours, Sanji swept the flashlight around the ground. Relief washed over him when he spotted the lighter beneath a bush.
Of course it was.
Which meant he now had to stretch his arm out and twist himself awkwardly just to reach it with the tips of his fingers.
The pathetic little battle lasted several minutes. At one point, Sanji nearly gave up entirely. He arched his back slightly and groaned when a branch snapped against his face. Still, he eventually managed to grab the object.
The blond let out a breath of relief, kneeling in the grass and slightly out of breath. He quickly checked that the lighter was not damaged before slipping it back into his pocket.
When he looked back up, he realized his neighbor had nearly finished his meal without missing a single second of the spectacle. That faint amused smile was still there.
Which irritated Sanji immensely.
He knew he looked ridiculous rolling around in the dirt for a lighter, one aggressive movement away from ripping part of his shirt in the process. His entire evening outfit was ruined. A sweat-damp blond strand clung to his forehead, and the alcohol was beginning to pound harder behind his skull.
He sighed and attempted to salvage what little dignity he still possessed.
Sanji stood back up and walked toward his neighbor. He held up the lighter with falsely satisfied pride.
“Well. Mission accomplished. I won’t keep bothering you any longer.” the blond commented as he approached the neighbor, who still had not taken his eyes off him.
The moment Sanji stepped back onto the terrace with his soaked socks, he visibly tensed again. Once inside, he bent down to brush dirt off his trousers.
The problem with tight pleated pants was that the pockets were under constant strain.
His keys slipped out during the movement.
Panicked, Sanji immediately tried to catch them — only to accidentally kick them farther away instead, sending them sliding underneath the living room cabinet.
His shoulders slumped in defeat.
When Sanji finally met his neighbor’s gaze again, the man had his fist pressed against his mouth, visibly trying not to laugh at the blond’s utterly miserable expression.
Sanji surrendered and rolled his eyes toward the ceiling, accepting his role as the evening’s entertainment. He went back down onto the floor — first on his knees, then on all fours — arm stretched beneath the cabinet in search of his keys, cheek practically pressed against the ground.
By some miracle, he got them on the first try.
When he straightened up again, his neighbor had not moved an inch. Still watching him. Still amused.
At this point, Sanji could not even blame him anymore. He was fully aware of how absurd the situation was: ridiculous and entertaining.
The man in front of him finally spoke.
“You want a glass of water to recover from all that emotional trauma?”
Sanji sighed while massaging his painfully throbbing temples.
“I wouldn’t say no.”
The green-haired man placed the criminal tupperware container down on the counter while motioning for Sanji to sit. He pulled a bottle of water from the fridge as the blond settled onto one of the high stools.
“Roronoa Zoro,” he introduced simply.
“Sanji… just Sanji.”
About twenty minutes into the conversation, the blond finally found himself wondering why his neighbor was wearing full workout clothes at nearly half past ten at night.
Not casual sportswear meant for lounging around, either. This was very clearly the kind of outfit intended for actual physical effort.
“Aerobics class?” Sanji asked almost automatically, mostly because he knew absolutely nothing about fitness. He accepted the glass of water handed to him.
“Weight training,” Zoro corrected.
Sanji raised an eyebrow and suddenly wondered whether it was even legal to walk around in public dressed in something that revealing.
The blond drank his water while watching Zoro pull out a container of powder and scoop some into a shaker bottle. He watched him shake it vigorously with practiced movements.
It was oddly fascinating.
For a brief moment, Sanji reflected on the fact that he had never once stepped foot inside a gym. He maintained himself physically through running and a few basic exercises — nothing more. Meanwhile, judging by the sheer state of Zoro’s body, the man’s entire life clearly revolved around this kind of training.
As the alcohol slowly began making his eyelids heavier, Sanji found himself sincerely wondering whether his neighbor’s biceps were bigger than his own thighs.
“Impressed?” the green-haired man asked with a crooked smile before taking a sip from his shaker.
“Honestly? Yes,” Sanji admitted without thinking. “Do you practically live there?”
That earned him a low chuckle.
“Pretty much. I train every day.” He set the shaker down and crossed his arms over his muscular chest.
Sanji emptied the rest of his glass in one go.
“That’s admirable. You should be proud if you dedicate yourself that much.”
“If you’re interested, I’m a coach. First session’s free,” Zoro offered casually.
The sentence immediately made Sanji smile. Genuinely touched, he declined anyway.
“Thank you for the consideration, but I’m a very busy man unfortunately… I spend most of my life locked inside a kitchen.”
Zoro smiled with easy confidence.
“You can come by whenever you’ve got time. I’ve got a garden. Plenty of space.”
Sanji looked at the man standing before him. He was leaning lazily against the counter, completely relaxed.
The blond replied simply,
“I’m sure we’ll run into each other again. I could teach you how to season your food properly—”
The sentence slipped out before he could stop himself.
His hand immediately flew over his mouth. He had never intended to sound condescending and knew instantly he had crossed a line.
But Zoro’s expression brightened immediately, strangely delighted.
“You give private lessons too?”
“Not really…” Sanji visibly shrank into his chair. “Sorry, that was inappropriate… completely out of line… it’s just that—”
“No offense taken,” the athlete smiled. “Cooking’s not really my thing. That’s hardly a secret.”
“Yes, but—”
Zoro winked at him.
Sanji relaxed almost immediately. Thanks to his neighbor’s easygoing nature, he had narrowly avoided a diplomatic disaster, and that was probably for the best.
Then Sanji’s eyes landed on the clock. 10:30 PM. He stiffened. A wave of panic suddenly caught up to him.
“Problem?”
“I have… a guest.” He grimaced. “Talking with you completely made me forget about her. What an idiot.”
He stood up clumsily and steadied himself against the counter.
“A woman?” Zoro’s tone brimmed with curiosity. He looked impressed — and slightly surprised. One eyebrow lifted again.
Sanji felt a small surge of pride rise in his chest.
“Yes, a woman… She’s a professional pianist. She’s charming. Her company is genuinely delightful, and I would hate to be even more inconsiderate by making her wait any longer. It’s getting rather late as well…”
“She interested you?” the neighbor asked, seemingly very interested in the answer himself.
“She is interesting. Fascinating, even.” the blond insisted, placing a hand dramatically over his chest.
“She can’t be that interesting if you’re down here chatting with me instead of cooing over her at this hour,” Zoro shot back dryly.
Sanji’s eyes widened slightly, his arms falling limp at his sides.
“Well, I mean - ”
Zoro continued casually,
“It’s not an insult. If I had a date I was genuinely into, I wouldn’t be wasting time talking to the downstairs neighbor.”
He smiled afterward. Charmingly. Sanji genuinely did not know how to respond to that.
“You sure you’re not avoiding her because your pianist is actually boring as hell?”
“No, no, there’s a misunderstanding, I—”
A strange anxiety suddenly tightened in Sanji’s chest, and he found himself responding almost automatically.
“No, she’s interesting and charming. Women are always the most interesting company. In fact, I should go back to her immediately — you’re absolutely right. She must be wondering what could possibly be keeping me here.”
Sanji smoothed out his shirt and adjusted his tie with a movement slightly too abrupt.
He nearly strangled himself in the process.
Searching desperately for a reflective surface, he looked toward the kitchen window to fix his hair, his hands trembling faintly while the taste of wine crept unpleasantly back up his throat.
“You sure you’re in any condition to go upstairs?” Zoro asked from where he now sat in Sanji’s previous seat.
“Yes. Yes, absolutely no concern there. I’m perfectly fine. I must always be fine. A gentleman never falters.”
He sounded as though he were trying very hard to convince both of them.
“If you say so,” Zoro concluded flatly, arms crossed.
Sanji looked at him for a moment without really understanding why.
Beside the massive, solid frame of his neighbor, he suddenly felt faintly ridiculous. Between the two of them, the one who truly looked unshakable certainly was not the blond.
Subconsciously, Sanji straightened his own posture slightly, mirroring him, suddenly hyperaware of himself.
“Relax. If she likes you, she’ll still like you even with messy hair.”
For some reason, the sentence irritated Sanji immediately.
“Keep your advices for yourself.”
The bitterness in his tone was unmistakable.Sanji regretted it instantly.
“Sorry, I—”
Zoro waved a hand dismissively, as if brushing away a fly.
“It’s nothing.”
But his smile had disappeared.
Sanji felt as though he were sinking straight into the floorboards.
He blinked rapidly, somehow even more panicked than before. Guilt twisted immediately in his stomach at being responsible for the sudden closure in his neighbor’s expression.
His brain started racing at full speed while he stood there with his mouth slightly open.
“Well? What are you waiting for? Go back to your princess.”
Zoro’s voice sounded a little rougher now, though not enough to truly qualify as hostile.
“Yes. Yes, of course,” Sanji stammered, oddly wounded by the comment despite having absolutely no reason to be. “I’m sorry for bothering you and—”
Zoro rolled his eyes toward the ceiling, visibly annoyed.
Sanji’s heart tightened a little more, reinforcing the awful sensation that he had overstayed his welcome. He stepped backward too quickly and lightly bumped into the table behind him.
On instinct, he grabbed his empty glass on the way and placed it in the sink before heading toward the entrance.
He was sincerely disappointed to have ruined what, for a brief moment, had genuinely felt like a pleasant and mutual interaction.
Obviously, with his stupid remarks about the food, his rude comments, and his complete ignorance about sports, he must have made a terrible impression on his warm-hearted neighbor.
Sanji awkwardly hopped a little while trying to put his shoes back on.
When he looked up, he noticed Zoro silently watching him from the hallway. He looked worried.
“Don’t worry. I’m not exactly at risk of getting lost on the way upstairs.”
Sanji attempted a joke before immediately fleeing like a startled rabbit, head lowered.
As he climbed the stairs back to his apartment, Sanji cursed himself internally. He did not even understand why he had spoken to Zoro with such condescension. The man was probably going to hate him now. Sanji had never truly understood why it remained so difficult for him to behave properly around other men. Usually, he could at least blame competition or pride. But this time there had been none of that.
He knew perfectly well he never would have used that tone with a woman — not even during a banquet service. Yet somehow he had allowed himself to do it with a man who had welcomed him kindly instead of slamming the door in his face at ten o’clock at night.
Sanji sighed as he opened the door to his apartment.
The handsome blond removed his shoes and searched for his guest. The wonderful woman had fallen asleep on the couch, most likely drunk from waiting for him for so long. Sanji immediately grabbed one of his blankets and draped it over her. He had truly managed to ruin the evening with absolutely everyone.
After settling the beautiful brunette more comfortably on the couch, he cleared away the wine bottles and dishes from the living room table before instinctively starting the dishes himself, disappointed. Once his apartment was spotless again, he stepped out onto the balcony for a comfort cigarette. He placed one between his lips and searched his pockets for his Zippo to light it.
Sanji froze.
He had forgotten his lighter at Zoro’s place. He had left in such a hurry that he must have abandoned it somewhere. The blond mentally slapped himself and checked the time.
It was past midnight. Completely inconceivable to bother Zoro again at this hour. And yet he still found himself standing in front of his neighbor’s door. He needed a cigarette. He prayed his neighbor would open.
He would retrieve his lighter without trouble, or perhaps under the wrath of his irritated neighbor. He would drown him in apologies and disappear immediately afterward.
He knocked nervously. The nicotine craving had started prickling beneath his skin and at the tips of his fingers.
The athlete opened the door with shaving cream still half-spread across his face. Bare-chested. A towel draped around his neck and comfortable pajama pants hanging low on his hips. Sanji’s eyes widened instantly and he could not articulate a single syllable.
“Your lighter’s on the counter,” Zoro commented simply.
Sanji slipped inside quickly. This time, he did not even need to remove his shoes — he had forgotten to take off his own slippers before leaving his apartment.
Without a word, he headed for the kitchen and felt immediate relief upon spotting his lighter. He pulled out a cigarette, incapable of stopping himself, and hurried outside into the garden to inhale his poison.
He forgot to ask permission. The moment nicotine hit his brain, he shivered faintly in discomfort at the entire situation. Tonight, wine truly was disastrous for him. The blond slowly recomposed himself and noticed Zoro watching him from the living room with strange amusement.
“Isn’t it a little late to shave?” Sanji asked without thinking.
“I was making myself pretty for you,” Zoro teased while stretching lazily across his couch.
Sanji stared at him in confusion.
“But that wasn’t necessary… I came here in slippers.”
Zoro still had traces of shaving foam lingering along his jaw after wiping most of it away.
“So it doesn’t do anything for you?” he asked with fake disappointment.
“What exactly doesn’t do anything for me?”
“A man shaving.”
“I wouldn’t phrase it quite like that, but yes, a clean-shaven man is certainly more elegant,” Sanji answered automatically.
Zoro burst into loud laughter as though he had just heard the funniest joke of the year.
The blond looked utterly confused, unable to understand what had provoked such a reaction from his neighbor. He finished his cigarette while mentally replaying his own sentence.
Once he was done, he stepped back into the living room, only half-relaxed despite the nicotine. Zoro had calmed down somewhat and looked at his visibly lost neighbor. He inhaled once before speaking plainly.
“No, what I meant was: does a man shaving turn you on? Like… would you suck his dick?”
Silence.
Sanji stared at him with wide eyes and parted lips.
“Okay, now you get it, right?” Zoro asked, visibly pleased with himself.
Sanji stammered immediately.
“No, of course not. I… I don’t engage in… that kind of practice doesn’t…”
“Got it.”
Zoro stood up and casually walked back toward the bathroom.
The handsome blond remained frozen in the middle of the living room, slowly processing what had just been said. He blushed instantly, scandalized.
Had Zoro just implied he was homosexual?
Sanji had absolutely nothing against gay people, of course. But what exactly was his neighbor basing such accusations on? He stiffened. It was probably the shirt. Slightly too fitted around the waist.
Obviously, an ultra-masculine athlete like Zoro associated elegance with a lack of masculinity. It was an old grievance people had thrown at him for years because of his refinement and popularity with women. He felt strangely disappointed that the athlete carried those same prejudices.
Clenching his fists, the blond marched toward the bathroom with the firm intention of clarifying the misunderstanding. He pushed the door open after taking a steadying breath. Sanji immediately decomposed on the spot.
Zoro was completely naked in the bathroom, seconds away from stepping into the shower.
Silence.
“It’s usually better to knock before coming in, you know?”
Sanji wanted to scream an apology and flee immediately.
But his eyes had become locked onto one very specific thing.
His voice died in his throat and his shoulders slowly slumped as he stared at the athlete’s crotch.
“Impressed?” Zoro crossed his arms, clearly enjoying the indirect compliment.
The wine rushed violently back into Sanji’s cheeks.
“It’s just a physiological difference!” he defended himself immediately.
Zoro laughed again, wholeheartedly this time.
“You really refuse to let this go, huh?”
At last, the blond tore his gaze away, utterly defeated.
“Alright, I get it now,” Zoro concluded. “Follow me.”
He walked out of the bathroom and back into the living room, Sanji following behind him without finding anything to object to.
“Sit down,” the muscular man instructed politely.
The blond settled onto the couch in silence, unwilling to think too hard about any of this. Zoro cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders with complete natural ease, like someone preparing for physical effort.
The athlete was still completely naked in all his physical glory, perfectly comfortable. For a brief moment, Sanji genuinely wondered if the man’s body contained any fat at all.
While he was lost in that thought, Zoro grabbed his jaw with one hand and tapped lightly against his cheeks with his fingers. Sanji simply watched him. He felt the other man’s thumb brush softly across his lips.
He did not resist.
“Good,” Zoro concluded in an encouraging voice. “Open just a little bit.”
He slipped his thumb into Sanji’s mouth.
The blond said absolutely nothing. He looked almost enchanted by the words of the naked man standing in front of him. His brain simply refused to process the situation for what it truly was.
Zoro moved his thumb slightly inside his mouth in silence.
“That’s good.”
He withdrew it slowly before caressing Sanji’s cheek again.
“Ready for what’s next?”
Sanji blinked, entirely focused on the other man’s confident smile. He nodded faintly and then felt the tip of Zoro’s cock press softly against his lips. It was warm.
“Disgusted?”
The blond gave a tiny shake of his head, still staring at Zoro’s mouth.
“Then open up.”
Sanji parted his lips slowly, uncertain, and felt the length begin to ease its way inside.
“Wider,” Zoro instructed with a low hum.
The blond obeyed and tried to take as much as he could. Zoro only pushed halfway in so he would not overwhelm him. One firm hand rested in Sanji’s hair without pulling. It was stabilizing him.
“Now just focus. Don’t move. Don’t do anything. Let me work on it.”
That was exactly what Sanji did. He let Zoro control the movements, slow at first so his jaw could adjust.
“Breathe through your nose.”
The motions gradually became smoother, though they remained slow overall.
Zoro let out a deep rumble of satisfaction.
“You’re good,” he grunted before gently rubbing Sanji’s cheek again in encouragement.
The steady rhythm continued, never too rough. Meanwhile, Sanji kept his eyes lifted toward the Greek-statue physique above him, abs tightening with effort.
Zoro eventually pulled himself free from Sanji’s mouth.
“Stick your tongue out.”
He tapped the head of his cock lightly against the cook’s tongue, visibly pleased.
“Good boy,” he praised.
Sanji’s blood rushed violently through his body the moment he heard those two simple words. Zoro immediately noticed the effect his praise had on the blond. His voice became lower. Softer. While lazily stroking himself, he continued giving instructions.
“Lie back for me.”
Sanji laid down on his back and felt lips brushing against his throat and chest. His entire body relaxed instantly, melting into the softness of the attention.
The blond had obviously had sexual experiences before, but this one made him feel as though he were sinking straight into the couch itself. His torso was covered in kisses. No part of his body was neglected: chest, stomach, ribs, hips, thighs. Zoro even kissed the soles of his feet. Sanji felt worshipped. Like some honored god.
A soft moan escaped him when Zoro finally wrapped a hand around his hard cock. Head thrown back and eyes closed, he arched instinctively beneath the touch.
He trembled slightly.
“You’re so good, you know that?”
Sanji nodded instinctively — not out of arrogance, but because he desperately wanted to believe it.
Waves of pleasure ran through him with every movement of Zoro’s hand.
Right before Sanji came, he felt Zoro’s thumb brushing teasingly against the tight ring of muscle at his entrance. Zoro continued stroking him with the damp thumb while reaching toward one of the drawers behind the couch. Sanji did not even have time to check what he was doing before he felt something cool running down between his thighs.
“Keep your eyes closed, baby. Don’t think about it.”
The blond let his head fall back again, relaxing further beneath the endless caresses and the discovery of every hidden erogenous zone in his body.
“Breathe.”
The word came alongside the slow intrusion of a thumb.
Sanji’s eyebrows lifted slightly at the unfamiliar sensation. A kiss was pressed against his temple.
“Good boy.”
The praise made him practically purr.
Zoro eventually added a lubricated finger and began preparing him carefully while continuing to scatter reassuring kisses across the blond’s chest. The motions were smooth and patient. Then came a second finger. Sanji tensed immediately.
“You’re doing great. If it hurts too much, I’ll stop.”
When Zoro finally pushed inside him, he did so as gently as physically possible, though he knew some pain would inevitably come. He kissed Sanji’s forehead and repeated several times for him to breathe and relax. Eventually, the movements became fluid despite the ache. Everything was softened by Zoro’s reassuring presence. His words. His kisses. At some point, Sanji even thought he could feel pleasure underneath the pain.
Zoro made a near-superhuman effort to restrain the pace of his thrusts to something manageable for an inexperienced man. Even so, he eventually reached orgasm through sheer slowness and depth, his cock tightly compressed by Sanji’s body.
A deep groan echoed through the room. The green-haired man only needed a few moments to recover himself. He pulled out carefully before turning his attention back to Sanji immediately. He took him into his mouth with determination. He loved doing this anyway. It only took a few steady sucks before Sanji came in his mouth.
Zoro let out a pleased sound before pressing one final kiss against the blond’s throat.
Sanji sat upright like a drowning man finally breaking back through the surface for air.Pain exploded through his skull. And another through his ass. Simultaneously.
The blond looked around in confusion before realizing he was not home: he had fallen asleep on Zoro’s couch. The other man was asleep against him, chest pressed against Sanji’s back, forehead resting heavily against his shoulder.
The cook panicked, suddenly understanding what had happened during his drunken state. Over the course of the evening, he had consumed the equivalent of an entire bottle of wine on his own, on top of an aggressively strong aperitif cocktail.
He carefully freed himself from his neighbor’s hold and hurriedly got dressed while trying not to react to the pain. He refused to look at Zoro even once. He grabbed his lighter from the counter and fled back to his own apartment.
Meiko had left him a note:
Sorry, I fell asleep waiting for you! I had a meeting this morning so I had to rush out. We’ll see each other another time — preferably with less wine <3
An immeasurable wave of shame crashed over Sanji. He threw the note straight into the trash before heading immediately for the shower, determined to erase every trace of the previous night.
After scrubbing himself as hard as he physically could, he finally found himself standing naked in front of the bathroom mirror. His reflection refused to lie: Sanji was covered in hickeys… At least a dozen of them. Chest, throat, even his thighs included. He shuddered in horror and dressed himself again immediately.That settled it.
He immediately forbade himself from ever crossing paths with his neighbor again.