Vibrations [One Piece, Zoro/Sanji]
Title: Vibrations
Fandom: One Piece
Pairing: Zoro/Sanji
Rating: Hard R/NC-17
Disclaimer: One Piece and its characters do not belong to me.
Summary: Summary? Um. There’s a chair. And some sex. Also, it’s a modern AU.
A/N: I’ve never even sat in a massage chair, so any and all descriptions of it are 90% BS. XD
Written for this prompt at the zosan_kinkmeme (which has been pretty quiet lately!).
“What is that?”
“A pony. What does it look like, idiot?”
It looked like a massage chair. One of those really expensive massage chairs Zoro saw whenever he passed by a Brookstone or some other place where he couldn’t afford to shop. It certainly didn’t look like something that belonged in their cramped apartment, where their most expensive luxury was the Star Trek Voyager box set.
“What’s it doing here?”
“I bought it for you,” Sanji said, looking rather pleased with himself. “To help you relax after all your workouts. We’ll be eating ramen and drinking Kool-Aid for a while, but if it keeps you from whining-”
“I don’t whine.”
“Mmhm.” Sanji nudged him a little with his hip. “Try it out.”
“I don’t need you to buy things for me.”
“What?” Sanji looked at him, saw the way he was frowning at the chair like its mere presence was insulting him. “You can’t be serious.” Zoro shrugged and Sanji could practically smell the wounded man-pride emanating from him. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Sit down.”
Zoro didn’t budge. He hated being reminded that Sanji made more money than him, and maybe that was stupid but what-the-hell-ever.
Sanji sighed. Zoro could be so stubborn. Luckily, he possessed just the right amount of charm and tact to handle the situation.
“I said, sit your ass down!”
That was the charm. The tact? Kicking the idiot into the chair. Zoro grumbled something inaudible, but didn’t resist much. Sanji climbing into his lap probably helped.
“Just to make sure you stay put,” he murmured, lips curving upward suggestively.
“Yeah, sure.” Zoro reached for his hips and was rebuffed; Sanji caught his wrists, guided his arms to the armrests. “Oi-”
“Hush.” Sanji picked up the chair remote and looked it over before deciding on a button. “I want you to get the full effect.”
“Tch.” Zoro scoffed, but it felt undeniably good when the massage rollers started gliding over his back. (Certainly better than the half-assed, one-handed shoulder rubs Sanji would give him on occasion. Not that the sentiment wasn’t appreciated…)
Sanji pressed another button and there was a kneading sensation traveling from his neck all the way down to his calves that made him want to melt. Damn chair. He knew the bliss he was feeling was evident, judging from the smug look on the chef’s face.
“Stop gloating and c’mere.”
Sanji arched an amused eyebrow and obliged, leaning in until their faces were inches apart. Zoro closed the distance between them quickly, allowing a sub-vocal groan to escape as they kissed; the chair’s vibrations even had his lips moving against Sanji’s steady smirk. Sanji dropped the remote and took Zoro’s face in his hands, promptly plundering the other man’s mouth. He tasted fresh, like mineral water and Pepsodent toothpaste. (He thought of Zoro freshening up at the gym before coming home, hastily brushing his teeth while beads of sweat pooled in the crook of his neck…) He rolled his hips and felt Zoro shiver.
“Too much for you, huh?”
Zoro narrowed his eyes, but wisely kept his mouth shut. With the vibrations and Sanji hardening against his own erection, he was pretty sure that any words he tried to say would come out as embarrassing moans of incoherent pleasure. Instead, he caught Sanji’s bottom lip between his teeth and tugged.
“Nnh.” Sanji sat back a little, gave him a predatory grin. “Take your shirt off.”
--
With the press of another button, the chair was in a reclining position and the massagers were kicked up a notch. Sanji’s fingers were threaded in Zoro’s hair, pulling his head back and sucking on the tendon of his neck. Their naked chests were plastered together with sweat and heat, their pants undone and open so their arousals could touch.
They barely had to move. The vibrations did most of the work, had them rubbing against each other with a speed they usually only managed to reach in the moments right before climax-when they were rutting and riding with a frenzied desperation that threatened to leave them reddened and raw.
Zoro’s nails raked down Sanji’s bare back. He reached beneath the slack waistband of Sanji’s pants and gripped at him, bringing him impossibly closer. His fingers followed the crease of his ass and he felt, rather than heard, Sanji whine into his skin. Zoro wanted to fuck him, but it was too much. Their flushed erections pulsed beside each other, slick and sensitive, and when his finger teased Sanji’s puckered entrance, the cook was gone.
Sanji gasped, mouth releasing Zoro’s neck. Zoro bit his lip as air hit his saliva-soaked skin, as Sanji ground against him and rode out his orgasm. Zoro kept himself from following-although the kneading, quivering chair would’ve been enough to push him over the edge-as Sanji caught his breath and found the remote.
--
The chair was straightened, Zoro’s pants were around his ankles, and his cock was in Sanji’s mouth. The ministrations of Sanji’s tongue were slow and lazy, but that didn’t matter. The massagers were tapping his back, the chair pads continuing their steady vibration, intensifying every warm, wet sensation to the point of being damn near mind-blowing.
He didn’t last long. He dug into the armrests until his knuckles whitened and watched the muscles of Sanji’s throat move as he swallowed.
--
“All right,” Zoro sighed as he turned the chair off. “It stays. But I doubt I’ll do much relaxing in it.”
Fandom: One Piece
Pairing: Zoro/Sanji
Rating: Hard R/NC-17
Disclaimer: One Piece and its characters do not belong to me.
Summary: Summary? Um. There’s a chair. And some sex. Also, it’s a modern AU.
A/N: I’ve never even sat in a massage chair, so any and all descriptions of it are 90% BS. XD
Written for this prompt at the zosan_kinkmeme (which has been pretty quiet lately!).
“What is that?”
“A pony. What does it look like, idiot?”
It looked like a massage chair. One of those really expensive massage chairs Zoro saw whenever he passed by a Brookstone or some other place where he couldn’t afford to shop. It certainly didn’t look like something that belonged in their cramped apartment, where their most expensive luxury was the Star Trek Voyager box set.
“What’s it doing here?”
“I bought it for you,” Sanji said, looking rather pleased with himself. “To help you relax after all your workouts. We’ll be eating ramen and drinking Kool-Aid for a while, but if it keeps you from whining-”
“I don’t whine.”
“Mmhm.” Sanji nudged him a little with his hip. “Try it out.”
“I don’t need you to buy things for me.”
“What?” Sanji looked at him, saw the way he was frowning at the chair like its mere presence was insulting him. “You can’t be serious.” Zoro shrugged and Sanji could practically smell the wounded man-pride emanating from him. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Sit down.”
Zoro didn’t budge. He hated being reminded that Sanji made more money than him, and maybe that was stupid but what-the-hell-ever.
Sanji sighed. Zoro could be so stubborn. Luckily, he possessed just the right amount of charm and tact to handle the situation.
“I said, sit your ass down!”
That was the charm. The tact? Kicking the idiot into the chair. Zoro grumbled something inaudible, but didn’t resist much. Sanji climbing into his lap probably helped.
“Just to make sure you stay put,” he murmured, lips curving upward suggestively.
“Yeah, sure.” Zoro reached for his hips and was rebuffed; Sanji caught his wrists, guided his arms to the armrests. “Oi-”
“Hush.” Sanji picked up the chair remote and looked it over before deciding on a button. “I want you to get the full effect.”
“Tch.” Zoro scoffed, but it felt undeniably good when the massage rollers started gliding over his back. (Certainly better than the half-assed, one-handed shoulder rubs Sanji would give him on occasion. Not that the sentiment wasn’t appreciated…)
Sanji pressed another button and there was a kneading sensation traveling from his neck all the way down to his calves that made him want to melt. Damn chair. He knew the bliss he was feeling was evident, judging from the smug look on the chef’s face.
“Stop gloating and c’mere.”
Sanji arched an amused eyebrow and obliged, leaning in until their faces were inches apart. Zoro closed the distance between them quickly, allowing a sub-vocal groan to escape as they kissed; the chair’s vibrations even had his lips moving against Sanji’s steady smirk. Sanji dropped the remote and took Zoro’s face in his hands, promptly plundering the other man’s mouth. He tasted fresh, like mineral water and Pepsodent toothpaste. (He thought of Zoro freshening up at the gym before coming home, hastily brushing his teeth while beads of sweat pooled in the crook of his neck…) He rolled his hips and felt Zoro shiver.
“Too much for you, huh?”
Zoro narrowed his eyes, but wisely kept his mouth shut. With the vibrations and Sanji hardening against his own erection, he was pretty sure that any words he tried to say would come out as embarrassing moans of incoherent pleasure. Instead, he caught Sanji’s bottom lip between his teeth and tugged.
“Nnh.” Sanji sat back a little, gave him a predatory grin. “Take your shirt off.”
--
With the press of another button, the chair was in a reclining position and the massagers were kicked up a notch. Sanji’s fingers were threaded in Zoro’s hair, pulling his head back and sucking on the tendon of his neck. Their naked chests were plastered together with sweat and heat, their pants undone and open so their arousals could touch.
They barely had to move. The vibrations did most of the work, had them rubbing against each other with a speed they usually only managed to reach in the moments right before climax-when they were rutting and riding with a frenzied desperation that threatened to leave them reddened and raw.
Zoro’s nails raked down Sanji’s bare back. He reached beneath the slack waistband of Sanji’s pants and gripped at him, bringing him impossibly closer. His fingers followed the crease of his ass and he felt, rather than heard, Sanji whine into his skin. Zoro wanted to fuck him, but it was too much. Their flushed erections pulsed beside each other, slick and sensitive, and when his finger teased Sanji’s puckered entrance, the cook was gone.
Sanji gasped, mouth releasing Zoro’s neck. Zoro bit his lip as air hit his saliva-soaked skin, as Sanji ground against him and rode out his orgasm. Zoro kept himself from following-although the kneading, quivering chair would’ve been enough to push him over the edge-as Sanji caught his breath and found the remote.
--
The chair was straightened, Zoro’s pants were around his ankles, and his cock was in Sanji’s mouth. The ministrations of Sanji’s tongue were slow and lazy, but that didn’t matter. The massagers were tapping his back, the chair pads continuing their steady vibration, intensifying every warm, wet sensation to the point of being damn near mind-blowing.
He didn’t last long. He dug into the armrests until his knuckles whitened and watched the muscles of Sanji’s throat move as he swallowed.
--
“All right,” Zoro sighed as he turned the chair off. “It stays. But I doubt I’ll do much relaxing in it.”