(One Piece) So There
Title: So There
Fandom: One Piece
Pairing: Sanji/Zoro
Rating: NC-17
Words: 856
Summary: Point made.
Zoro is aware his head is lolling back, throat exposed, lips open and panting. Aware that, in that moment, every one of his weaknesses is showing. Aware that, fuck, no matter how hard he tries, his body won’t obey him. Can’t draw on his strength, can’t do anything but gasp and roll his hips, and the hands on his thighs are keeping him from even doing that with as much force as he needs.
Sanji moves between his spread legs, dipping his head to lick at Zoro’s cock, long stripe of saliva and electricity, along the underside, base to tip. Worries at the vein there with his lips and the barest hint of teeth, and Zoro growls and fists his hands by his sides. Wants to bury them in Sanji’s hair, not sure why but that’s where they itch to be. But they’re just another set of unruly limbs that don’t seem to be listening to him, and he’s going to kill the shitty love cook, just as soon as his legs stop shaking.
Sanji does this thing with his tongue, ripples it against Zoro’s heated skin, and Zoro grunts and grits his teeth and tries to blink the sweat out of his eyes. Really, can’t understand why they haven’t been doing this since the beginning. Finds himself irrationally angry at Sanji for keeping this from him. Because the cook must know how good this feels, better than good, better than slicing down their enemies, better than the blood of villains spraying over his skin, better than the rush of battle and glory of victory. The cook must know, Zoro can guess by the way he’s humming low in his throat, and the vibration of it runs straight through Zoro’s cock, up his spine, sparks a brilliant white inside his mind.
Sanji’s mouth closes over the tip, tongue pushing at the yielding flesh, into the slit. Swirling the moisture there over the skin and his own teeth, just a touch too rough to be comfortable, and Zoro feels his eyes cross. And then Sanji presses forward, taking half of Zoro’s length into his mouth, and Zoro knows, in a detached sort of way, that he just shouted something but he doesn’t know or care what it may have been. His own mouth feels empty, and it should be bizarre and wrong to realise that he wants to taste Sanji, to reverse their positions, but it just feels like a challenge to his feverish brain. Return this pleasure, make it better…
Sanji swallows around him, sucks hard enough to hollow his cheeks, string of saliva dripping from one corner of his mouth, and Zoro can feel it burn a path down to his balls, and it’s getting more and more difficult to keep his eyes open. And Sanji shifts, raises himself higher on his knees, and when he leans forward again the angle is beyond perfect, and Zoro feels all of him slip into Sanji’s mouth, feels the head of his cock bump against something. And whatever part of him that is still capable of thought informs him it must be the back of Sanji’s throat, and that’s just too fucking hot for words. Grinds his teeth down against the noise in the back of his own throat, fights against the tightening in his balls, the not-quite pain gripping his stomach. Close, can’t be there yet, needing it to never stop…
But then Sanji pulls back, and Zoro can feel every ridge of the roof of Sanji’s mouth as he allows the head of Zoro’s cock to drag over it, and he’s shouting, blood rushing in his ears, too hot and too drawn, cursing Sanji and coming harder than he thinks he’s ever come in his entire life.
Feels as though he’s thrown himself into Hell, sweating and aching, and as dizzy as he usually feels after losing far too much blood. But he’s still on the ship, and now Sanji’s standing over him, and he’s clearly trying for smug, but his lips are too swollen, his face too flushed, and the apron does nothing to hide the tenting of his trousers.
“What was that about how I’m the one led around by my dick?” he says, and his voice sounds cracked and strained, and Zoro really wishes he had the energy to pounce. But his limbs still aren’t obeying him, and Sanji’s already turned on his heel to strut from the room, although the slight limp to his step dampens the effect.
Zoro watches him go because, really, there’s not much else he’s capable of in that moment. Of course, he’ll have to repay the cook. Thinks back on some of the stuff Johnny and Yosaku used to babble about, wonders why he dismissed them at the time, because now he can appreciate that they were really on to something. Let’s his mind mull over some of the more outrageous, and suddenly intriguing, stories that they’d insisted on sharing, and settles back to sleep, cock still hanging out, legs still spread.
Later, his mind soothes him, and he falls asleep with a smirk on his face.
Fandom: One Piece
Pairing: Sanji/Zoro
Rating: NC-17
Words: 856
Summary: Point made.
Zoro is aware his head is lolling back, throat exposed, lips open and panting. Aware that, in that moment, every one of his weaknesses is showing. Aware that, fuck, no matter how hard he tries, his body won’t obey him. Can’t draw on his strength, can’t do anything but gasp and roll his hips, and the hands on his thighs are keeping him from even doing that with as much force as he needs.
Sanji moves between his spread legs, dipping his head to lick at Zoro’s cock, long stripe of saliva and electricity, along the underside, base to tip. Worries at the vein there with his lips and the barest hint of teeth, and Zoro growls and fists his hands by his sides. Wants to bury them in Sanji’s hair, not sure why but that’s where they itch to be. But they’re just another set of unruly limbs that don’t seem to be listening to him, and he’s going to kill the shitty love cook, just as soon as his legs stop shaking.
Sanji does this thing with his tongue, ripples it against Zoro’s heated skin, and Zoro grunts and grits his teeth and tries to blink the sweat out of his eyes. Really, can’t understand why they haven’t been doing this since the beginning. Finds himself irrationally angry at Sanji for keeping this from him. Because the cook must know how good this feels, better than good, better than slicing down their enemies, better than the blood of villains spraying over his skin, better than the rush of battle and glory of victory. The cook must know, Zoro can guess by the way he’s humming low in his throat, and the vibration of it runs straight through Zoro’s cock, up his spine, sparks a brilliant white inside his mind.
Sanji’s mouth closes over the tip, tongue pushing at the yielding flesh, into the slit. Swirling the moisture there over the skin and his own teeth, just a touch too rough to be comfortable, and Zoro feels his eyes cross. And then Sanji presses forward, taking half of Zoro’s length into his mouth, and Zoro knows, in a detached sort of way, that he just shouted something but he doesn’t know or care what it may have been. His own mouth feels empty, and it should be bizarre and wrong to realise that he wants to taste Sanji, to reverse their positions, but it just feels like a challenge to his feverish brain. Return this pleasure, make it better…
Sanji swallows around him, sucks hard enough to hollow his cheeks, string of saliva dripping from one corner of his mouth, and Zoro can feel it burn a path down to his balls, and it’s getting more and more difficult to keep his eyes open. And Sanji shifts, raises himself higher on his knees, and when he leans forward again the angle is beyond perfect, and Zoro feels all of him slip into Sanji’s mouth, feels the head of his cock bump against something. And whatever part of him that is still capable of thought informs him it must be the back of Sanji’s throat, and that’s just too fucking hot for words. Grinds his teeth down against the noise in the back of his own throat, fights against the tightening in his balls, the not-quite pain gripping his stomach. Close, can’t be there yet, needing it to never stop…
But then Sanji pulls back, and Zoro can feel every ridge of the roof of Sanji’s mouth as he allows the head of Zoro’s cock to drag over it, and he’s shouting, blood rushing in his ears, too hot and too drawn, cursing Sanji and coming harder than he thinks he’s ever come in his entire life.
Feels as though he’s thrown himself into Hell, sweating and aching, and as dizzy as he usually feels after losing far too much blood. But he’s still on the ship, and now Sanji’s standing over him, and he’s clearly trying for smug, but his lips are too swollen, his face too flushed, and the apron does nothing to hide the tenting of his trousers.
“What was that about how I’m the one led around by my dick?” he says, and his voice sounds cracked and strained, and Zoro really wishes he had the energy to pounce. But his limbs still aren’t obeying him, and Sanji’s already turned on his heel to strut from the room, although the slight limp to his step dampens the effect.
Zoro watches him go because, really, there’s not much else he’s capable of in that moment. Of course, he’ll have to repay the cook. Thinks back on some of the stuff Johnny and Yosaku used to babble about, wonders why he dismissed them at the time, because now he can appreciate that they were really on to something. Let’s his mind mull over some of the more outrageous, and suddenly intriguing, stories that they’d insisted on sharing, and settles back to sleep, cock still hanging out, legs still spread.
Later, his mind soothes him, and he falls asleep with a smirk on his face.