OP fic: The Two Year Drought
Title: The Two Year Drought
Author: aviss
Pairing: Sanji/Zoro
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Humour, shameless smut
Summary: Two years in hell is a long time.
Word Count: ~2.000
Notes: When I saw the reunion between Sanji and Zoro I knew I had to write this. For allalabeth_san who always encourages me to come back to OP.
The Two Year Drought
Two years.
They had been the longest, ugliest, and worst two fucking years of Sanji's life. And they were finally over.
Since the moment he had set foot on Shabaody and seen the first real woman, Sanji had felt like dancing. He could finally get rid of those ugly bastards, could finally leave two years of nightmares and fear for his sanity behind.
He looked around, running as fast as his legs would allow him towards Groove 13, where they where supposed to meet. There was a real man, and another, and another. All of them dressed as men, with no wigs or make up on their faces. And there was a real woman, and another one. It didn't matter if they were beautiful or ugly, they were real. They had real curves and no stubble on their faces.
He was so happy he was feeling delirious.
Once he was there, Sanji couldn't just stay inside the Groove when they told him almost everyone had arrived but hadn't stayed there. He needed to go out and find someone: beautiful Nami-san with the gorgeous body or precious Robin-san with the elegant curves, or even him, the moronic marimo with the plain manliness and no artifice.
Sanji was among real people again, and he couldn't wait to see them.
And he had an itch he had been unable to scratch for two long years.
He walked along the Grooves, imagining he could as well get some fresh fish while he was at it, when he heard the old man muttering.
"--the green haired guy is gone--"
It was enough to make him stop and ask some questions, disbelief and amusement fighting inside of him as he put together the chain of events, annoyance following suit. He shouldn't be surprised, shouldn't be surprised at all. It was Zoro, after all, they were talking about. Two years down the line and the idiot was still capable of getting lost walking a fucking straight corridor.
Sanji felt a vein in his forehead pop in anger, his face settling in a fearsome scowl. There went his plan for a private reunion with the moron, all thanks to his stupid empty head. Well, at least Sanji knew now they shouldn't wait for him once Luffy arrived, they would probably meet in Merman Island. Unless the idiot managed to get himself killed in the meantime, not that it was very likely.
The old man was talking, but Sanji wasn't really listening to him. Two fucking years and Zoro screwed up the meeting when they were so close to be all of them together. Sanji was going to kill him.
"--something's coming out of the ocean--"
Sanji turned to look only half interested, a million bubbles forming on the surface of the water. It appeared then, a ship broken in half with a ridiculous jolly roger and an even more ridiculous and drenched marimo sitting on it. That thing had his signature written all over it.
Some of his anger abated, Sanji already thinking about the million ways he was going to take the piss for this one. He registered Zoro's appearance then: two years hadn't altered him that much. His clothes had changed, and black suited him disturbingly well. He hadn't got rid of that stupid haramaki, but the shirt he wore now open exposed Zoro's powerful chest and the deep scar that adorned it. His hair was still the same awful shade of green, and where his left eye had been there was now just a vertical scar.
Sanji wondered what had happened to Zoro during those two years.
"I got on the wrong ship," Zoro said, spluttering. Sanji felt like kicking him in the head just for that.
"I would have been surprised if you got on the right one, you idiot," Sanji said, calling Zoro's attention to him.
Zoro's head swivelled and his one eye focused on Sanji. He jumped off the ship and walked unhurriedly to him.
Sanji watched him approach, each step measured and giving off an aura of barely contained power. He looked more or less the same as before, but the feeling was different, more intense. Sanji felt his mouth drying; it had been two fucking long years.
"You've got scruff on your face, shit-cook," Zoro said as a way of greeting, looking at him up and down. "And still look like a weakling." He finished with a smirk, and Sanji gritted his teeth and took a pull of his cigarette.
"I see someone tried to make you a new face, moss-head," Sanji retorted, blowing the smoke on his face. "It's an improvement, not that it could have been worse."
They stared at each other for a long minute, both of them refusing to back down while some of the wrecked ship's pirates reached land. They made for Sanji and Zoro, surrounding them and shouting expletives.
"Friends of yours, Marimo?" Sanji asked, smirking.
"Nah, they just refused to bring me back to land, so I had to get out of their ship before it sank any further. I might have overdone it a bit," Zoro replied, totally unconcerned that they were being surrounded by at least twenty pirates. He kept staring at Sanji with the same amused expression, his one eye appraising him.
"A bit," Sanji agreed easily. "You muscle-brain don't know your own strength."
They were still looking at each other intently, almost challengingly, when the pirates attacked. They shouldn't have bothered attacking a man who had cut their ship in half without breaking a sweat, and the one staring him down as his equal. They were obviously idiots, and they were also quite weak.
They weren't even good enough as training, not after Sanji had to fight daily with hundreds of crazy okama just to keep his dignity. And as ugly and weird as the okama were, they weren't weak.
It was over before Sanji had the chance to see how much Zoro had improved his fighting technique, and that was saying something. Sanji turned to the pirates attacking him and delivered a quick barrage of kicks. When he turned back to Zoro he found the marimo staring back at him, a pile of groaning and bleeding pirates on the ground.
"I was faster," Zoro said and Sanji bristled.
"No, you weren't."
"I was," Zoro repeated, "and I arrived first."
Sanji narrowed his eyes. "And you got on the wrong ship, idiot!"
Zoro waved a hand dismissively. "Still, I got here first."
Sanji wanted to kick him badly. So he did. He aimed his foot at Zoro's head and did a back flip when it got stopped with the flat of a blade, jumping back and launching himself at Zoro again. Zoro was smiling as he unsheathed two of his swords, the glint in his eye familiar and exciting.
The circled each other, attacking and defending with practiced ease, as if nothing had changed in the past two years. Sanji saw his own growth reflected in Zoro's movements, the same old exhilaration of fighting someone who matched his strength--and didn't give him the creeps--singing in his blood.
He was about to attack Zoro with a new and particularly vicious move when a hand grabbed the front of his shirt, rendering immobile for a second. Zoro pulled him close, their faces scant inches apart.
"Let's get out of here," Zoro snarled on his face, the look on his face one Sanji knew well and had missed for two years.
Sanji headed towards the buildings, his steps hurried as he guided them through narrow streets and alleys, turning corners sharply.
"Do you know where you're going, cook?" Zoro asked after two minutes. "You'll get us lost."
Sanji shot him a scathing look over his shoulder, not dignifying it with an answer. And they were finally there, a tiny alley that led to a dead end, a stack of crates almost covering the entrance. Sanji pushed Zoro past the crates and into a space no bigger than a closet, and was on him the next second.
This was what he had been missing. Men who were men, proud of what they were, of their strength and manliness. And women who were women, feminine and soft, but strong in their own ways.
Sanji was under no delusion that, as much as he loved and worshipped the girls, he had exactly zero chances with them. Zoro was a different question, and he was there. And that was also perfect for Sanji.
Zoro's mouth wasn't soft and sweet, it was hard and demanding, devouring. The last two years of separation making themselves present in a sort of desperation, a thirst they were beginning to slake but by no means quench. Sanji relearned the shape and texture of Zoro's mouth, the taste and feel of him pressed against a grimy alley, the hardness of his muscles under Sanji's eager hands.
"Missed me, Cook?" Zoro growled against his mouth, his lips moving to nip at his jaw and neck.
Sanji shuddered, hands clawing at Zoro's hips, trying to find the opening in the folds of his hakama.
"No. But I missed this," he retorted, throwing his head back to give better access to his neck.
He moaned when a rough hand cupped him over his clothes, pressing against his cock while the other hand deftly removed his belt and opened his trousers. Sanji fumbled with the folds of Zoro's hakama, and finally managed to undo the sash and get hold of his prize, his hands sure and firm around Zoro's cock. He relished the moan he forced from his throat, and increased the pace of his hand.
"Wait," Zoro groaned, and he gripped Sanji's hips and reversed their positions, pressing him against the wall and pinning him there with his body. His large, calloused hand batted Sanji's away, and they were pressing against each other, the delicious friction enough to tear a moan from Sanji's mouth.
Sanji grabbed their cocks, stroking them at the same time while Zoro plundered his mouth again, Zoro's hand covering his immediately and increasing the rhythm. It wasn't going to last long, two long years of drought and ugliness finally being released.
They stayed like that, panting against each other mouth once it was over, their sticky hands still covering their softening flesh. Sanji took a deep breath, his heartbeat steadying, and pushed Zoro away.
"Luffy is in the island," he said, taking a handkerchief from his pocket and cleaning his hand. He looked at Zoro and regretted it immediately. The bastard was cleaning his hand with his tongue, licking every finger with a smug expression as Sanji gaped at him. He shook his head to clear it. "We have to go back to the meeting point."
Zoro rearranged his clothes and moved out of the alley. "This way, then," he said turning to his left.
Sanji rolled his eyes and grabbed him by the scruff of his neck. "This way," he said pointedly, turning in the opposite direction.
"What does number seven have to say?" Zoro protested, "I was here first!"
"Yeah, and you got lost! I lead the way."
"I know how to get there, shit-cook."
"In your dreams, idiot!"
They walked towards the meeting point, bitching all the time, and Sanji couldn't help the smile on his face.
They were finally all together again.
The two years of hell were over.
…
Author: aviss
Pairing: Sanji/Zoro
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Humour, shameless smut
Summary: Two years in hell is a long time.
Word Count: ~2.000
Notes: When I saw the reunion between Sanji and Zoro I knew I had to write this. For allalabeth_san who always encourages me to come back to OP.
The Two Year Drought
Two years.
They had been the longest, ugliest, and worst two fucking years of Sanji's life. And they were finally over.
Since the moment he had set foot on Shabaody and seen the first real woman, Sanji had felt like dancing. He could finally get rid of those ugly bastards, could finally leave two years of nightmares and fear for his sanity behind.
He looked around, running as fast as his legs would allow him towards Groove 13, where they where supposed to meet. There was a real man, and another, and another. All of them dressed as men, with no wigs or make up on their faces. And there was a real woman, and another one. It didn't matter if they were beautiful or ugly, they were real. They had real curves and no stubble on their faces.
He was so happy he was feeling delirious.
Once he was there, Sanji couldn't just stay inside the Groove when they told him almost everyone had arrived but hadn't stayed there. He needed to go out and find someone: beautiful Nami-san with the gorgeous body or precious Robin-san with the elegant curves, or even him, the moronic marimo with the plain manliness and no artifice.
Sanji was among real people again, and he couldn't wait to see them.
And he had an itch he had been unable to scratch for two long years.
He walked along the Grooves, imagining he could as well get some fresh fish while he was at it, when he heard the old man muttering.
"--the green haired guy is gone--"
It was enough to make him stop and ask some questions, disbelief and amusement fighting inside of him as he put together the chain of events, annoyance following suit. He shouldn't be surprised, shouldn't be surprised at all. It was Zoro, after all, they were talking about. Two years down the line and the idiot was still capable of getting lost walking a fucking straight corridor.
Sanji felt a vein in his forehead pop in anger, his face settling in a fearsome scowl. There went his plan for a private reunion with the moron, all thanks to his stupid empty head. Well, at least Sanji knew now they shouldn't wait for him once Luffy arrived, they would probably meet in Merman Island. Unless the idiot managed to get himself killed in the meantime, not that it was very likely.
The old man was talking, but Sanji wasn't really listening to him. Two fucking years and Zoro screwed up the meeting when they were so close to be all of them together. Sanji was going to kill him.
"--something's coming out of the ocean--"
Sanji turned to look only half interested, a million bubbles forming on the surface of the water. It appeared then, a ship broken in half with a ridiculous jolly roger and an even more ridiculous and drenched marimo sitting on it. That thing had his signature written all over it.
Some of his anger abated, Sanji already thinking about the million ways he was going to take the piss for this one. He registered Zoro's appearance then: two years hadn't altered him that much. His clothes had changed, and black suited him disturbingly well. He hadn't got rid of that stupid haramaki, but the shirt he wore now open exposed Zoro's powerful chest and the deep scar that adorned it. His hair was still the same awful shade of green, and where his left eye had been there was now just a vertical scar.
Sanji wondered what had happened to Zoro during those two years.
"I got on the wrong ship," Zoro said, spluttering. Sanji felt like kicking him in the head just for that.
"I would have been surprised if you got on the right one, you idiot," Sanji said, calling Zoro's attention to him.
Zoro's head swivelled and his one eye focused on Sanji. He jumped off the ship and walked unhurriedly to him.
Sanji watched him approach, each step measured and giving off an aura of barely contained power. He looked more or less the same as before, but the feeling was different, more intense. Sanji felt his mouth drying; it had been two fucking long years.
"You've got scruff on your face, shit-cook," Zoro said as a way of greeting, looking at him up and down. "And still look like a weakling." He finished with a smirk, and Sanji gritted his teeth and took a pull of his cigarette.
"I see someone tried to make you a new face, moss-head," Sanji retorted, blowing the smoke on his face. "It's an improvement, not that it could have been worse."
They stared at each other for a long minute, both of them refusing to back down while some of the wrecked ship's pirates reached land. They made for Sanji and Zoro, surrounding them and shouting expletives.
"Friends of yours, Marimo?" Sanji asked, smirking.
"Nah, they just refused to bring me back to land, so I had to get out of their ship before it sank any further. I might have overdone it a bit," Zoro replied, totally unconcerned that they were being surrounded by at least twenty pirates. He kept staring at Sanji with the same amused expression, his one eye appraising him.
"A bit," Sanji agreed easily. "You muscle-brain don't know your own strength."
They were still looking at each other intently, almost challengingly, when the pirates attacked. They shouldn't have bothered attacking a man who had cut their ship in half without breaking a sweat, and the one staring him down as his equal. They were obviously idiots, and they were also quite weak.
They weren't even good enough as training, not after Sanji had to fight daily with hundreds of crazy okama just to keep his dignity. And as ugly and weird as the okama were, they weren't weak.
It was over before Sanji had the chance to see how much Zoro had improved his fighting technique, and that was saying something. Sanji turned to the pirates attacking him and delivered a quick barrage of kicks. When he turned back to Zoro he found the marimo staring back at him, a pile of groaning and bleeding pirates on the ground.
"I was faster," Zoro said and Sanji bristled.
"No, you weren't."
"I was," Zoro repeated, "and I arrived first."
Sanji narrowed his eyes. "And you got on the wrong ship, idiot!"
Zoro waved a hand dismissively. "Still, I got here first."
Sanji wanted to kick him badly. So he did. He aimed his foot at Zoro's head and did a back flip when it got stopped with the flat of a blade, jumping back and launching himself at Zoro again. Zoro was smiling as he unsheathed two of his swords, the glint in his eye familiar and exciting.
The circled each other, attacking and defending with practiced ease, as if nothing had changed in the past two years. Sanji saw his own growth reflected in Zoro's movements, the same old exhilaration of fighting someone who matched his strength--and didn't give him the creeps--singing in his blood.
He was about to attack Zoro with a new and particularly vicious move when a hand grabbed the front of his shirt, rendering immobile for a second. Zoro pulled him close, their faces scant inches apart.
"Let's get out of here," Zoro snarled on his face, the look on his face one Sanji knew well and had missed for two years.
Sanji headed towards the buildings, his steps hurried as he guided them through narrow streets and alleys, turning corners sharply.
"Do you know where you're going, cook?" Zoro asked after two minutes. "You'll get us lost."
Sanji shot him a scathing look over his shoulder, not dignifying it with an answer. And they were finally there, a tiny alley that led to a dead end, a stack of crates almost covering the entrance. Sanji pushed Zoro past the crates and into a space no bigger than a closet, and was on him the next second.
This was what he had been missing. Men who were men, proud of what they were, of their strength and manliness. And women who were women, feminine and soft, but strong in their own ways.
Sanji was under no delusion that, as much as he loved and worshipped the girls, he had exactly zero chances with them. Zoro was a different question, and he was there. And that was also perfect for Sanji.
Zoro's mouth wasn't soft and sweet, it was hard and demanding, devouring. The last two years of separation making themselves present in a sort of desperation, a thirst they were beginning to slake but by no means quench. Sanji relearned the shape and texture of Zoro's mouth, the taste and feel of him pressed against a grimy alley, the hardness of his muscles under Sanji's eager hands.
"Missed me, Cook?" Zoro growled against his mouth, his lips moving to nip at his jaw and neck.
Sanji shuddered, hands clawing at Zoro's hips, trying to find the opening in the folds of his hakama.
"No. But I missed this," he retorted, throwing his head back to give better access to his neck.
He moaned when a rough hand cupped him over his clothes, pressing against his cock while the other hand deftly removed his belt and opened his trousers. Sanji fumbled with the folds of Zoro's hakama, and finally managed to undo the sash and get hold of his prize, his hands sure and firm around Zoro's cock. He relished the moan he forced from his throat, and increased the pace of his hand.
"Wait," Zoro groaned, and he gripped Sanji's hips and reversed their positions, pressing him against the wall and pinning him there with his body. His large, calloused hand batted Sanji's away, and they were pressing against each other, the delicious friction enough to tear a moan from Sanji's mouth.
Sanji grabbed their cocks, stroking them at the same time while Zoro plundered his mouth again, Zoro's hand covering his immediately and increasing the rhythm. It wasn't going to last long, two long years of drought and ugliness finally being released.
They stayed like that, panting against each other mouth once it was over, their sticky hands still covering their softening flesh. Sanji took a deep breath, his heartbeat steadying, and pushed Zoro away.
"Luffy is in the island," he said, taking a handkerchief from his pocket and cleaning his hand. He looked at Zoro and regretted it immediately. The bastard was cleaning his hand with his tongue, licking every finger with a smug expression as Sanji gaped at him. He shook his head to clear it. "We have to go back to the meeting point."
Zoro rearranged his clothes and moved out of the alley. "This way, then," he said turning to his left.
Sanji rolled his eyes and grabbed him by the scruff of his neck. "This way," he said pointedly, turning in the opposite direction.
"What does number seven have to say?" Zoro protested, "I was here first!"
"Yeah, and you got lost! I lead the way."
"I know how to get there, shit-cook."
"In your dreams, idiot!"
They walked towards the meeting point, bitching all the time, and Sanji couldn't help the smile on his face.
They were finally all together again.
The two years of hell were over.
…