OP Fic: Liquid Courage 1/2
Title: Liquid Courage
Fandom: One Piece
Pairing: Zoro x Sanji
Rated: NC-17
Notes: Thanks again to metal_dog5 and bronzetigress who had to suffer through betaing all this porn. Any mistakes you find are my own pervy changes, post beta.
Summary: "You don't remember anything?"
Sanji watched with both amazement and disgust as Zoro tilted the sake barrel to his lips. The crowd egged Zoro on - Nami’s voice ringing clearly above the rest. Worn, curling wanted posters plastered the smoky tavern’s walls, stained brown with old, dried blood from bounties claimed. Flames danced in their glass houses on the wheel helms made into chandeliers. Scuffed wooden tables were bolted to the floor so as not to be knocked over and destroyed in the inevitable fights that broke out. The open windows let in the salty scent from the sea.
Sanji’s cigarette smoke joined the smoggy air and he eyed the urchin-haired bartender behind the length of bar. The cocky middle-aged man didn’t look so cocky anymore. Sanji supposed he felt a little sorry for the guy. The contest was a great racket. If a patron drank an entire barrel full of sake, it was free. If the patron failed to finish, they had to pay for what they’d drunk. Most people, Sanji had learned, passed out before they reached the bottom of the barrel. But most people weren’t Zoro.
“Finish it!” Nami bellowed in Zoro’s ear, making his earrings chime. It was Zoro’s second barrel - the first had only wet his thirst for more - and the price was high. If he didn’t finish, the bartender would make him pay for both barrels, not to mention what Nami would do to him.
Zoro leaned back on his stool, gulping the sake as if it were water. A few droplets spilled down his chin. The swarthy, uncultured swine filling the tavern banged their cups on the tables, chanting, “Drink! Drink! Drink! Drink!”, while Franky performed a weird routine in the background, spelling out Zoro’s name with his body.
The last sips of sake slid down Zoro’s gullet. He thumped the empty barrel on the floor and released a long, loud belch that blew the hair back on the people standing closest to him. “UUUUURRRRRRPPPPPPP.”
The crowd cheered. Nami squealed and hugged Zoro, and Sanji muttered jealously, “I could’ve done that.” If two barrels resulted in a hug from his sweet Nami-swan, three barrels might garner him a kiss. Sanji threw his arms in the air. “I’m next!”
His volunteering to be the next contestant was drowned out by the roar of approval from the tavern’s patrons for Zoro. Eyes flashing with beli signs, Nami rushed from table to table, taking money from the bets she’d won. The bartender slumped miserably. Zoro belched again, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and squinted as he looked around the tavern. Rising from the stool, he staggered like a pachinko ball, first bumping into the empty barrel, then knocking against the bar, and finally tottering into a table.
“Whoa,” Zoro said, sitting down on the tabletop. He clutched the edge and blinked rapidly. “That was some good shit.”
One of the burly pirates at the table smacked Zoro heartily on the back in congratulations and sent Zoro sprawling face-first into Sanji. Sanji caught him before he knocked them both over. “Learn how to walk, shitty drunk.”
“M’not drunk.” Zoro’s glazed eyes said otherwise. His hands kneaded Sanji’s forearms. “I gotta piss.”
“What are you telling me for? Do you need someone to hold your dick?” Sanji shoved Zoro off of him. Zoro stumbled backwards, but managed not to fall. His hand went for the hilt of a katana.
“Wanna fight, blondie?” Zoro said, gaze narrowing.
Sanji grinned around his cigarette. Wiping the floor with Zoro’s drunken ass would be a cheap way to have fun. The night was looking up.
“Sanji-kun,” Nami sang from across the tavern. “Take Zoro back to the ship.”
“Yes, Nami-swan!” Sanji sent her his love and obedience with a heartfelt salute, and then shot Zoro a withering look. “Come on, dipshit. Let’s go.”
Zoro straightened, wobbled, and his hand fell to his side. “I still gotta piss.”
“How wonderful for you,” Sanji said, leading the way outside, amused by the way Zoro pinged against the tables between the bar and the door. It was a rare occasion that Zoro got drunk - it took an abundance of alcohol to get him merely tipsy, and he usually didn’t have enough money to reach even that state. Zoro wasn’t fond of having his senses dulled by alcohol, either, not wanting to be felled like a sloppy swordsman. He’d trained so his tolerance would be extremely high for that reason.
Sanji finished his cigarette as Zoro relieved himself like an uncouth cur against the side of a building. The pirate quarter of Boomingtown was alive with activity. Taverns outnumbered the other businesses in the quarter, raucous laughter, curses, and fights spilling from every one. Disreputable traders lurked in nameless doorways. Scruffy kids bumped into random pirates on the street, earning hard cuffs to the head. They ran away with gleaming smiles, pockets full of stolen coin. Perfumed ladies overflowing with beauty twitched their skirts at passersby with an invitation to visit the several brothels along the street.
Sanji’s heart pattered at the looks he received from a trio of ladies nearby. He thought their corsets appeared a bit tight and they might need assistance loosening them. He’d hate for them to faint. And if they brought him inside to show him their gratitude, he wouldn’t mind. It had been a while since he’d availed himself of a woman’s pleasure.
Zoro staggered out of the alley, reminding Sanji that he couldn’t do anything until he got the disgusting idiot back to the ship. Sanji crushed his cigarette butt beneath his heel and shot the ladies an apologetic smile, glad they weren’t able to hear the sourness of his tongue. “Damned marimo. I’m going to kick your head in when we get back to the Sunny.”
“Heh. I’d like to see-” Zoro bumped into Sanji and tottered, “-see you try.”
Annoyed, Sanji grabbed Zoro’s upper arm and dragged him in the direction of the docks. “I should just leave your ass and go and pay a visit to that brothel.”
“We’re going to a brothel?”
Sanji snorted. “You wouldn’t know what to do at one.”
Zoro scowled and tilted his chin in a way that meant he’d taken it as a challenge. The thought of Zoro rampaging like a bull through a brothel made Sanji shudder and vow to protect the ladies at all costs.
A hand grew out of the gangplank and stopped Zoro from falling off the bouncing board, as Sanji pulled him along. Sanji smiled in the direction of the crow’s nest. “Thank you, Robin-chwan! But his safety isn’t worth your exerting yourself!”
Robin didn’t answer, or acknowledge that she’d heard Sanji. Sanji would have to bring her something to drink and eat before returning to town. Maybe she’d want to show her gratitude for Sanji’s thoughtfulness and he wouldn’t have to return to town at all.
Sanji pinched his nose to stop the bleeding and hustled Zoro across the deck lawn and into the men’s cabin. He flipped the switch for the gas lanterns hanging on the cabin wall, shoved Zoro in the direction of his bunk, and debated whether to put on a fresh shirt.
Discarded dirty clothing, crumb-filled plates, medical texts, crude drawings and even cruder song lyrics, a broken sandal, full ashtrays, empty booze bottles, some of Usopp’s tools, and a dismembered invention littered the flat surfaces of the cabin. A burn hole singed the couch. Usopp and Luffy’s black powder-burned outlines marred one of the walls. The crew’s wanted posters hung with honor on another wall. Lockers, with the men’s names written neatly on them, overflowed with items that spilled from the partially open doors. Sheets and blankets hung like curtains from two of the top bunks. One of the bottom bunks was stripped bare. A red ball was stuck in the deck head from being thrown too hard.
“Is this the brothel?” Zoro asked, scratching his chin as he looked around.
Sanji snorted and opened his locker. “I didn’t think it was possible, but you’re even stupider when drunk.”
“Not drunk.” Sanji could see Zoro wobbling in the reflection of the mirror hanging on the locker door and rolled his eyes. Zoro turned around, caught his balance, and squinted in Sanji’s direction. “Are you the whore?”
Sanji whipped around. “What?!” He couldn’t have heard that right.
Zoro stumbled leftward as he pulled his shirt and haramaki over his head. “How much?”
Sanji didn’t know whether to be angry, dismayed, or laugh his ass off. Zoro was plowed. “I’m not a girl, idiot.”
“I sure as hell hope not,” Zoro said. The shirt and haramaki were tossed negligently onto the floor and Zoro wove unsteadily closer to Sanji.
Several confusing ingredients of Zoro’s makeup in Sanji’s mind suddenly made perfect sense. Sanji wanted to smack his forehead for being such a dunce. The indifference towards females, the lack of participation in the “education” of Luffy, Usopp, and Chopper about the fairer sex, the complete disregard for anything resembling manners or cleanliness, the perverse way he’d lovingly clean his swords - it all meant that Zoro didn’t like women. No wonder he and Zoro didn’t get along, with such a fundamental difference between them.
“You could’ve said something, dickhead,” Sanji told him, with an irritated shake of his head. It’s not like Sanji would’ve held it against Zoro - though, it would’ve given Sanji a whole lot more ammunition in their verbal warfare. Sanji smiled at the possibilities.
“You know, you kind of look like Sanji,” Zoro said and Sanji’s eyebrows climbed. Zoro was close enough that Sanji could smell the sake on his breath and see his unfocused eyes. Standing beside Sanji, Zoro propped a forearm against the locker and tried to lean in towards him. His forearm skittered against the metal surface when the sake sloshed in his brain and he stumbled forward. He caught himself by snaking an arm around Sanji’s waist and banging them both against Sanji’s open locker door.
“Oi, asshole, watch it,” Sanji growled, feeling the mirror behind his shoulders. It better not have broken.
“Talk like him, too,” Zoro continued as if he hadn’t bumbled into Sanji. From behind the strands of hair that had fallen in front of his eyes, Sanji saw Zoro lick his lips and the arm around his waist felt suddenly like a vice. “But Sanji’d never let me do this.”
Swifter than a drunk person should be able to move, Zoro darted in and pressed his lips to Sanji’s. Sanji banged the back of his head against the locker door in shock. Zoro was kissing him. Zoro was fucking kissing him! Badly. Not that Sanji wanted a better kiss, but Zoro just stood there with his mouth covering Sanji’s, not moving his lips.
But he was certainly moving his hand! Sanji meeped against Zoro’s mouth and his eyes bugged. Zoro had shoved his hand down the front of Sanji’s trousers a heartbeat after their mouths had met and was pawing at Sanji’s cock. Sanji’s lack of clean boxers meant Zoro was palm to bare skin and holy fuck Zoro was touching his cock.
Fuck, it felt good.
Wait, no! It was not good. Zoro was touching Sanji’s cock!
Sanji pulled his knee up between them and tried to kick Zoro away, but Zoro’s arm was down Sanji’s trousers and all he succeeded in doing was sending them both sprawling on the floor. Zoro’s katana sheaths clanked. Zoro landed on his back, Sanji landed on top of him, and Zoro’s hand was still wrapped around Sanji’s cock.
Zoro’s fingers flexed and he grinned drunkenly. “Good idea,” he said, and he started stroking Sanji’s cock. He arched his hips, grinding his pelvis against the back of the hand shoved down Sanji’s trousers. His other hand clamped on Sanji’s ass.
“What the fuck-nngh-are you doing?!” Sanji had to get free from the groping pervert. “Let go of me, you-rrrgghh-” Damn, Zoro was good with his hands. “Nuhhgg-”
“Yeah,” Zoro panted, hooked his ankle around the back of Sanji’s knee, and bucked harder.
Sanji’s fingernails dug into Zoro’s bare shoulders and he pressed his sweaty forehead against the back of his wrist. Pleasure melted his spine and the idea of moving vanished with a flick of Zoro’s thumb over Sanji’s cockhead. He was really letting this happen. His breath hitched, his body tightening. Fuck. Zoro’s rough, deft strokes were doing him in. He never would’ve thought- he didn’t- he- “Nnrrgh.”
Sanji came hard, spilling over Zoro’s hand and into the trousers. Spots danced behind his tightly closed eyelids and blood rushed in his ears. Climax blew the thoughts from his mind and it wasn’t until his cock became too sensitive that reality intruded again.
Sanji pushed up and back on his knees, grabbing Zoro’s wrist to keep him from accidentally ripping Sanji’s cock off. “Enough,” Sanji grunted, his voice as wrecked as the rest of him. Zoro was spread before him, bare skin flushed, chest heaving, and face slack with lust. His erection pushed against the material of his pants.
Panic twisted Sanji’s gut and he tugged Zoro’s hand free from the waistband of his trousers. He scrambled to his feet and choked when he saw Zoro bring his come-dampened fingers to his mouth and lick. Sanji turned on his heel and did what any sane ladies man would do - he fled.
“Wait,” Zoro called after him, as the cabin door was swinging shut. “Does that mean it was free?”
Sanji failed to drown himself in the bath after his encounter with Zoro and instead tried drowning himself in cooking to forget what had happened. He puffed on his cigarette and kneaded the bread dough with more vehemence than finesse. Flour decorated his apron covering his clean clothes (that he’d thankfully found in the bathroom). The scent of pastries baking in the oven didn’t soothe his nerves.
He couldn’t believe he’d allowed Zoro to jerk him off. What was wrong with him? Zoro was a guy, for fuck’s sake, and an asshole to boot. Okay, sure, Zoro was pretty damned good at giving hand jobs, which made sense since he liked having sex with men, but Sanji wasn’t the man that Zoro should be giving hand jobs to!
Sanji pounded the dough with his fists, switching his dwindling cigarette to the other side of his mouth. Fuck. What the hell was he going to do? Zoro was never going to let him live it down. Or worse, Zoro would want a repeat performance. Sanji’s cock stirred traitorously at the thought. He jabbed his cigarette out in the overflowing ashtray and immediately lit another. The haze of smoke hung heavily in the galley.
The only recourse that Sanji could think of was that he’d have to kick Zoro’s molesting ass. That way Zoro would know that Sanji hadn’t appreciated having a hand job forced on him and that it would never, ever happen again. No matter how much Sanji had enjoyed it.
Sanji cursed, adjusted his hard-on through his trousers, and went back to punching the bread dough. Damned, stupid, drunken marimo…
Sanji waited all of the following morning, but Zoro never said a word about what had transpired the night prior. No innuendo, no sly gestures, not even a knowing look. Zoro went about his morning as if nothing had happened, clomping in for breakfast stinking of sweat from his workout, eating like a slower version of Luffy, and then tromping back outside again to nap in the shade of the tree on deck.
It was driving Sanji insane. He knew Zoro was simply lying in wait to let it fly. The bastard probably had a ton of new, cutting insults to unleash, ranging from Sanji becoming a woman to Sanji’s dick size.
Sanji seethed and grew more restless from anticipation as the morning dragged by. The galley gleamed from the aggressive cleaning he’d given it while waiting for Zoro to show up. Zoro never showed and Sanji finally snapped.
Nami fluttered by with a cheerful, “Hello, Sanji-kun,” as Sanji climbed the steps to the bow. Her beauty made his heart sing before it plummeted again at the sight of Zoro staring after Nami with a worried look. The anger at the lack of confrontation swept over Sanji again.
Zoro eyed Sanji as he stomped up the remaining steps. “Did I win last night?” he asked, knocking Sanji for a loop.
“What?”
“Did I win last night?” Zoro repeated, scratching his ass. “I don’t remember much after I started on the second barrel, and that witch keeps cooing at me. It’s freaking me out.”
Sanji stared at Zoro for a long moment before saying slowly, “You don’t remember anything?”
Zoro shook his head and shot another apprehensive glance in the direction Nami had gone. “Should I worry that she’s going to cut me into pieces and sell the parts?”
“You won. Nami-san’s ecstatic,” Sanji said, tapping the toe of his shoe on the deck.
Twenty minutes later, Zoro slammed against the mast with the force of his three-katana block against Sanji’s kick and panted, “If I won and Nami’s happy, why are you trying to kick my ass?”
The party was winding down. The full orchestra had finished the last song and performers were packing their instruments away. Streamers drooped. Candles melted to stubs on the plate-strewn tables. Traces of wine lingered in glasses discarded on any flat surface. Linen napkins and confetti littered the carpeting. A few drunken revelers swayed to the music in their heads on the black and white marble dance floor. Finely dressed locals drifted from the ballroom in pairs or groups, heading home for the night.
Using his suit jacket as a pillow, Chopper was curled up beneath a table, sound asleep. Luffy had lost his suit and shirt sleeves at some point during the party, and was currently going from table to table, eating any leftover food he could find. Nami and Robin, beautiful in evening dresses, were conversing with their hosts. Franky and Usopp had discarded their suit coats, loosened the ties they’d been forced to wear, and were playing cards with new friends. Zoro had vanished hours ago. Sanji figured the idiot had gotten lost looking for the toilet.
Suit coat unbuttoned, Sanji leaned back in a chair and took a drag on his cigarette. He had a lingering buzz from the copious amount of wine that he’d drunk. The celebration of Wellington’s victory against the sadistic religious cult that had been terrorizing the city had started early and gone well into the night. Sanji had been blessed with filling many ladies’ dance cards throughout the evening. Dinner had been masterful, as well, and he’d visited the kitchens to give his props to the chef.
A gentle hand touched his shoulder. “Cook-” Robin paused and corrected herself with a soft smile. “Sanji-san, Nami asked if you would find Zoro-san. We are preparing to leave.”
“Of course! I am but a humble servant to my dazzling Queens.” Sanji captured Robin’s hand, pressed a kiss to her knuckles, and tried not to faint in joy from her allowance of such trespass. “I shall find that brainless moron, tie him up, and deposit him at your feet as a gift.”
Robin laughed lightly. “Meeting us at the carriage will be fine, Sanji-san.”
As she returned to Nami’s side, Sanji stabbed out his cigarette, buttoned his jacket, and floated off with wings of love on his feet. Perhaps they would reward him after he’d succeeded with his task. He hadn’t gotten to dance with either of them all evening. Maybe they’d like to share a private dance with him in their cabin once they’d returned to the ship. A private, naked dance…
Sanji stopped his nosebleed with a handkerchief as he stepped into the grand foyer. The main doors stood open and groomsmen assisted people to their carriages as they pulled up to the manor. Sanji eyed the door, hoping Zoro hadn’t wandered off outside. Searching for him would take too long if that were the case and Sanji would have to kill him once found for cutting into Sanji’s private dance time with Nami and Robin.
Turning the opposite way, Sanji began hunting through the interior of the manor for Zoro. Ornate mirrors and gilded framed oil paintings hung on the stone walls. Scrolled furniture made of dark wood partially hid the richly colored plush carpets that covered the floors. Vases, golden statues, and other treasures were displayed prominently on pedestals and in glass cabinets.
Sanji nodded to servants that he passed, occasionally asking if they’d seen a big, dumb ox in a suit wander by. No one had seen Zoro, but Sanji was undaunted. Sanji searched rooms set up for games, for seduction, and for study. The restrooms were empty. He slipped through an unused dining room and into the servants’ areas of the manor. The laundry, small dining area, and kitchen yielded no luck. Sanji spared another praising word for the chef before sliding past the wash boys to head downstairs into the wine cellar.
It was the first place Sanji should have thought of to look. Zoro was in the cool cellar, sprawled on the dirty floor in front of the giant wooden casks. Kongo, their hosts’ massive personal guard, was slumped against a tall wine rack. Gas lanterns hung from the ceiling, their lights glinting on what appeared to be hundreds of empty wine bottles strewn around. Zoro and Kongo’s combined snores echoed against the stone walls.
The rows of racks seemed light of stock and Sanji made a sound of disgust. “Ill-mannered ass,” he said as he walked over to Zoro. Zoro’s tie had disappeared and his dress shirt was unbuttoned obscenely to the ratty haramaki around his waist. His suit coat sleeves and shirt sleeves were shoved up his forearms. His katanas stood propped against one of the giant casks. A snot bubble expanded from his nose with each elephant-sized snore.
“Oi, shit swordsman, wake up,” Sanji said with a drop-kick to Zoro’s stomach.
Zoro oofed and bolted upright. Hand pressed against his stomach, he swayed a little as he looked confusedly up at Sanji from his seat on the floor. “What?”
“Time to go,” Sanji told him.
“Huh?”
Sanji kicked him much lighter in the thigh. “I said: time to go.”
Zoro blinked the slow blink of someone who’d imbibed heavily. “Where?”
“Fucker, how much did you drink?” Sanji said with a scowl when his foot bumped into an empty bottle, sending it rolling. “We’re guests, moron. You’re not supposed to drink them dry!”
“Hn.” Zoro yawned, lifted his arms in a stretch, and scratched the back of his head. “‘M’tired. What d’you want?”
“I said we’re leaving!”
“Oh.” Zoro smacked his lips, a sleep tear caught in the corner of his left eye. He looked around as if he didn’t recognize where he was, but otherwise didn’t move.
“Will you get up already?” Sanji bent and grabbed him by the arm, intending to yank him to his feet. Or drag him out of the cellar on his ass if need be.
Zoro apparently had other plans, though, and he wrapped his arm behind Sanji’s knees and tumbled Sanji onto the floor.
Sanji’s head smacked against the stone with a nasty crack. Lying on his back, he rubbed his head and cursed viciously. “Ow! Fuck! You stupid shit.” He was going to murder Zoro.
Zoro crawled up and over Sanji on his hands and knees. His body smelled like he’d fallen into a wine vat and he gazed down at Sanji wearing a lazy grin. “Hey.”
Sanji’s heart leapt to his throat in sudden distress, blocking the next round of curses. He was on his back, on the floor, with a drunken Zoro hovering over him. Not good, not good! Months might have passed, but Sanji was still traumatized from the last time Zoro was this drunk and this close to him.
Zoro began lowering his head. Sanji gibbered silently. He had to do something. He had to say something. He had to kick the pervert in the balls and run far, far away.
So why wasn’t he moving?
Zoro’s lips connected slightly off course, catching the side of Sanji’s mouth. The kiss was as terrible as the first one, nothing more than a firm pressure and a strong exhale from Zoro that gusted across Sanji’s upper lip. Sanji’s stomach coiled into quivering knots.
Zoro’s mouth sort of slid off Sanji’s like he couldn’t expend the effort to lift his head, and then the rest of him dropped heavily onto Sanji. The impact of his weight knocked some sense into Sanji. “Get off!” he yipped, shoving at Zoro’s shoulders.
Zoro’s response was to hold on tighter and nuzzle Sanji’s neck. “D’wanna. Comfy.”
“Well, I’m not!” Sanji’s legs were between Zoro’s thighs, which gave him the option of kneeing Zoro in the ass or flipping them over. But flipping them over would put Sanji in the exact same position he was when Zoro had jerked him off, and the enthusiastic response from his cock made his mind spasm in panic. He did not want to have sex with Zoro!
“Mmn,” Zoro hummed against the curve of Sanji’s neck, his mouth burning Sanji’s skin. “Wanna fuck?”
Yes. “No!”
Zoro ground his hips down against Sanji’s. Sanji could feel Zoro’s erection firming beside his own through the material of their trousers. “You can do me.”
Sanji’s mouth ran dry and all the remaining blood in his body made a straight shot for his cock.
Zoro nosed under Sanji’s jaw. “C’mon, sweetheart, I’m horny.”
The endearment made Sanji sputter incredulously. “Sweetheart?”
Sanji could feel the rotten smile against his Adam’s apple. “That’s what I’m gonna call you from now on.”
“Die,” Sanji growled, shoving at Zoro’s shoulders.
Zoro’s husky laugh pooled hotly in Sanji’s gut.
“Bas-nngh.” Sanji bit his tongue as Zoro ground against him again. Shit, that felt good.
“You’re so fucking hot when you’re mad,” Zoro’s lips branded Sanji’s skin, “even when you’re a jackass.”
Sanji rocked his hips upwards reflexively, meeting Zoro’s steadily building thrusts. The friction made his eyes roll back. He clung to Zoro’s shoulders and swallowed a moan. What was he doing? Wasn’t he supposed to be stopping- fuck- stop- oh god-
“One of these days, I’m going to break,” Zoro growled, his knees tightening on either side of Sanji’s hips. “I’m going to break and take you right out on the deck where everyone can see.”
Sanji squeezed his eyelids shut, heat licking at his spine. Zoro pumped his hips faster, harder. The steely length of Zoro’s cock rubbed beside Sanji’s, and Sanji would have done anything to have their clothing gone. His fingers twisted the material of Zoro’s suit coat, bucking into Zoro’s thrusts.
“I’d fuck you hard-” Zoro’s rhythm faltered and breathing turned ragged, “-fuck you until it’s only me that you want- ever- forever-”
Sanji’s head scraped against the stone floor as he threw it back and shoved his knuckles into his mouth to keep from crying out as orgasm slammed through him. His body jerked helplessly, cock pulsing, shooting come into his boxers. Zoro rutted against him savagely, driving towards his own release. Sanji was lost in the buzz of aftershock, heart racing, lungs starving for air.
“Sanji-nngghh-” Zoro came shuddering against Sanji, and the sound of his name on Zoro’s lips was like a lightning jolt. Sanji had just had sex with Zoro and, this time, Zoro knew who he was.
Dread, mortification, and some other weird emotion Sanji couldn’t name coalesced in a ball in his stomach. He stared, frozen, at the cross beams of the ceiling as Zoro collapsed atop of him. What the hell did he do? How could he let this happen? What did it mean? Oh fuck, had Kongo woken up?
A great, honking snore expelled from Zoro’s lips and tickled Sanji’s neck. The sensation vaulted Sanji into motion. In a blink of an eye, he’d thrown Zoro off, leapt to his feet, and fled to the opposite end of the cellar. Pressing into the corner made by two wine racks, Sanji drew a cigarette out of his pocket and cursed his shaking hand as he lit it. The deep drag he took from the cigarette did nothing to calm the storm inside of him.
Zoro’s snores blended with Kongo’s, who was still passed out across the room. The two slept on, oblivious to the blonde having a breakdown in the corner.
Sanji’s fretting had been for nothing, because Zoro didn’t seem to remember what he’d done to Sanji. “I’m not sure what happened after that,” Zoro told Luffy about drinking with Kongo, when, during breakfast the next morning, Luffy asked where Zoro had gone. Zoro flicked a glance at Sanji and rubbed the back of his neck. “But apparently I had a good time.”
Zoro had had a great time. Sanji couldn’t forget it. How could he? It was like a horrifying nightmare that he couldn’t wake up from and he didn’t know how to save himself.
Zoro, for his part, didn’t let on that he’d molested Sanji on the floor of the cellar in Wellington, or that he had any more perverted notions of getting into Sanji’s pants locked in that stupid head of his. The bastard ate, trained, and slept like normal, with the occasional roughhousing with Luffy, Usopp, and Chopper thrown in. He helped Franky with the ship, ignored Robin and Nami, and never failed to snipe back at Sanji when Sanji bitched deservedly at him. There were no implications, no hooded glances, and no provocative touches to show he felt anything towards Sanji but loathing.
Sanji was close to pulling his hair out over it. How could Zoro want to fuck Sanji and still treat Sanji like a piece of shit? Not that Sanji wanted Zoro to treat him any other way. In fact, Sanji wanted Zoro to treat him worse than usual, to make up for what he’d done. But it didn’t matter, anyway, because there wasn’t even a hint of lust from Zoro towards Sanji as weeks went by.
“What the fuck are you doing in here?!” Sanji exclaimed, startled, when Zoro barged into the bathroom. The cool cloth folded on Sanji’s head fell into the steaming bath water with a plop.
Sunlight streamed through the window above the tub. Puddles formed near the floor drain and dampened the stool standing beneath the shower head. Soap bubbles lingered on the shower knob from Sanji’s body scrubbing before he’d entered the bath.
Zoro held up the bucket of cleaning supplies. “My turn to clean the bathroom.”
Sanji was aware of how very naked he was in the bath. His skin pinked from the heat. “You could wait until I’m done.”
“You take too long. You’re like a fucking girl.”
“I am not a girl!” Sanji’s vehement shout bounced around the bathroom with embarrassing shrillness.
Zoro snorted, setting the bucket down on a stool. “Could’ve fooled me.”
Sanji shot to his feet, water cascading down his body and splashing over the rim of the tub. “Do I look like a girl to you?!”
Sanji regretted his irate actions the moment Zoro turned his head in Sanji’s direction. Sanji was naked in front of the guy who’d molested him twice. He may as well have tattooed “Take me, I’m yours” across his forehead. But his masculine pride was at stake and he clenched his fists to keep from covering his crotch. He did not look like a girl!
Zoro cast a disparaging glance over Sanji from head to knee and responded bluntly, “Yes, you do.”
Sanji’s jaw fell in shock from Zoro’s answer. Then, he saw red. “I DO NOT!” he exploded, launching from the tub into a handspring and slamming his heel down on top of Zoro’s head. He landed upright on his feet, bare toes digging into the tiled floor.
Zoro shook his head hard and smiled maliciously at Sanji. “You’re more of a girl than Robin and Nami put together.”
“Don’t you talk about them like that.” Sanji pivoted on the ball of his foot, lashing out in a side kick. Zoro blocked with a forearm and ducked the follow up round kick to the head.
“Afraid of your competition in the girly department?”
Sanji dropped to a crouch and swept his leg towards Zoro’s ankles. Zoro jumped and the air was cut where his feet had been. Hands on the floor, Sanji twisted his body, bringing his other leg off the ground in a raised scissor kick that connected with Zoro’s stomach before he landed. Zoro flew backwards at the impact and slammed into the wall separating the bathroom from the head.
Zoro gasped for breath and dropped to one knee. His arms shot up and crossed in a block as Sanji went in for a straight shot to the face. Zoro peered around his wrists. “Beating me up won’t change the fact that you have a chick’s legs, miniscule waist, and a pert little ass.”
“MY ASS IS NOT PERT!!!”
Sanji spun into a back kick, followed with a round kick, snap kick, side kick, round kick, and another spinning back kick. Zoro kept his head ducked behind his crossed arms, his knee and toe of his boot squealing against the tile as he was pushed backwards. “Your dick is so tiny, you may as well not even have one,” he jeered as he was pummeled.
“Fuck you!” Sanji flipped and cracked his heel on the cross block of Zoro’s wrists. “I have a huge-”, he pivoted into another side kick, “-damned-”, round kick, “-fucking-”, snap kick, “-manly-”, drop kick, “-dick!” With a leap and a turn, Sanji planned to kick Zoro right through the wall.
Zoro moved with Sanji’s jump, darting forward and under Sanji’s body. He shot upright, nabbed Sanji around the waist, and sent them both tumbling into the bath. Water plumed and overflowed from the tub. Sanji inhaled water up his nose and choked. He struggled against Zoro, the backs of his calves smacking against the edge of the tub, his feet in the air.
Zoro gurgled and held on, not seeming to care that they were drowning. Sanji writhed, trying to get free. Zoro’s shirt and haramaki dragged wetly against Sanji’s bare skin. One solid thigh dug into Sanji’s crotch. Sanji bucked against Zoro and realized, with horror, that his not-small-cock was getting hard.
Sanji’s fighting intensified. He twisted, jerked, and shoved in a panicked frenzy to get away. He only succeeded in making himself harder, frissions of pleasure jolting along his nerves everywhere he rubbed against Zoro. Soon, Zoro was going to notice and Sanji would be humiliated and Zoro would never let him live it down.
Or maybe Zoro would wrap his hand around Sanji’s cock and jerk him off again.
Sanji’s body tightened, his blood raced hotly through his veins. Fuck, he wanted that. He wanted Zoro’s big, solid fingers gripping his cock, jacking him with short, rough strokes that almost hurt. He wanted another bad kiss, to feel Zoro’s lips pressed against his own, using their mouths for something other than fighting. He could show Zoro what a good kiss was supposed to be like, hold that ugly face between his hands and plunder Zoro’s mouth until he whimpered breathlessly. Kind of like how Sanji sounded now.
Zoro released him suddenly, but shoved Sanji underwater with a hand to the chest as he pushed himself out of the tub. Sanji flailed and sputtered when he finally came up for air. The bathwater churned around him, clamped knees poking above the surface. He pushed his wet hair out of his face and glared at Zoro.
Zoro was across the bathroom, back to Sanji, wet clothes plastered to his body. Water sluiced from the sheaths strapped to his side. “Fucking target-brow. You made me get my katanas wet,” he growled, snagging a towel from the rack before storming stiffly out of the bathroom. The door slammed shut behind him.
“Oh, yeah?! Well…” Sanji trailed off feebly, his cheeks feeling like they were on fire. What was he going to say? ‘You made me horny.’ “Fucking marimo.”
Sanji sat in the bathtub, knees drawn to his chest, until his erection went away.
Sanji wanted to have sex with Zoro. Denying it was only making him want it more the longer it went on. Zoro would take off his shirt on deck, Sanji would get hard. Zoro would bend over to pick up his weights; Sanji had to run to the head to take care of his erection. When Zoro started a fight with him on the deck in front of everyone, Sanji nearly came in his pants. Zoro invaded Sanji’s fantasies when he masturbated and kicked the girls out of his dreams. He was always at the forefront in Sanji’s thoughts, tempting him to cross the line.
Sanji finally decided to give in, but he also decided that he’d have to get Zoro drunk first. There was no way he was letting the bastard remember them having sex. Sanji might have to be drunk, too, after learning what he needed to know about male pirates fucking from a cabin boy in port.
“It only hurts the first few times, after that you get used to it,” the fair teen had told him. “Just keep your bum greased and you’ll be fine. I use cooking lard. Keeps you slick all day and usually I can do four or five in a row before it dries up.”
The conversation had traumatized Sanji so badly he didn’t use cooking lard to make meals for a week.
The conversation hadn’t reduced Sanji’s longing to have sex with Zoro, though. He knew Zoro enjoyed sex in the ass, since he’d volunteered to let Sanji do him in Wellington. And it wasn’t as if Sanji wouldn’t be the one doing the fucking, anyway. With that in mind, and Sanji’s cock begging for some action, Sanji finally gave into his desire and set a plan in motion to get laid.
The bottles clinked against each other as Sanji shifted the brown bag in his arms to grasp the door handle. Quiet waves lapped against the Sunny’s hull in Confor harbor. Twilight colored the sky. Confor City rose from a hilltop surrounded by forest, with wide roads leading to and from the portcullis gates. Zoro had pulled first watch, and Luffy and the others had vanished into town the moment they’d docked. Sanji had spent most of the day restocking the supplies, and then he’d taken a quick bath and changed before returning to town to make a purchase of his own.
Sanji took a deep drag from his cigarette and stared at the wood door in front of him. If he’d timed it right - and he had, since he was watching from the harbor - Chopper would be up in the crow’s nest and Zoro would be in the men’s cabin gathering what little money he had to head into town. All Sanji had to do next was convince Zoro to drink with him without it being blatantly obvious that Sanji had an ulterior motive.
Here goes nothing. Tapping the toe of his shoe on the deck, Sanji exhaled a smoky breath and opened the door.
Zoro’s ass was in the air, his head in the locker as he searched through the cluttered bottom. Arousal surged at the sight of the taut stretch of Zoro’s pants. Sanji heeled the door shut behind him and twisted the lock.
Zoro poked his head out of the locker, saw it was Sanji, and sneered, “Oh, it’s you.”
“Feeling’s mutual.” Feigning nonchalance, Sanji carried the bag over to the low table and set it down amidst the mess strewn across the surface. Turning his back to Zoro, he swept the dirty clothes off the couch, removed the small jar he’d filled with cooking lard from his inner coat pocket, and shoved it deep between the couch cushions.
“Oi, marimo,” he said, taking off his coat and draping it over the back of the couch. He sat over where he’d stuffed the jar, removed a dark green glass bottle from the bag, and leaned back casually. “It’s your lucky night.”
Zoro shot Sanji a dark look as he slammed his locker door shut. “What are you talking about?”
Sanji held up the bottle. “Look what I won.”
“Yeah - And?”
“There’s ten of them,” Sanji said, baiting the hook, “and I’m in the mood to share.”
“With me,” Zoro said flatly, arms crossing.
Sanji shrugged. “You’re the only one here. But if you’re not interested in free booze…”
A pencil cracked under Zoro’s boot as he stalked over to the couch and snagged the bottle from Sanji. He looked at the bottle suspiciously, unplugged the cork, and took a long guzzle. Wiping the mouth with the back of his hand, he studied the label again. “Where’d you get this?”
“I told you, I won it. Clean out your ears, dumbshit.” Sanji crowed inwardly when Zoro took another drink. It looked like his plan was working. Sanji pulled another bottle from the bag and pried off the cork. The clear alcohol was a fairly expensive brand that reportedly had the kick of a Zeff in a bad mood. One bottle of it supposedly knocked a normal man into his cups.
Zoro wasn’t a normal man. Neither was Sanji. That’s why he’d bought ten.
After leaning his katanas against the side of the couch, Zoro plopped down onto the far end of it, leaving a large gap between himself and Sanji. His boots thunked on the table and sprinkled dirt on the papers caught beneath them. “What’d you do? Was it a contest for the best dressed pussy in town?”
Sanji bristled. “It was a cooking contest, asshole.” He stuck with the lie he’d created and was ready to elaborate right down to the type of knives he’d used to prepare the fake meal, if Zoro asked.
But Zoro merely indicated that he’d been listening. “Ah,” he said, and took another drink.
Sanji tilted the bottle in his hand to his lips and the sharp, bitter alcohol burned down his throat. He failed to completely suppress the reflexive cough and thumped his fist against his chest. That was some damned strong stuff.
Zoro sniggered. “Too strong for you, wimp?”
“No,” Sanji sneered and took another swig. He expected the taste this time and had no problems drinking it. He brushed the dampness from his lips with his fingers. “Bet I could drink twice as much as you.”
Zoro’s eyes narrowed. “Bet you pass out before you finish that bottle.”
Challenge crackled in the air. They held each other’s measuring gazes for a long, silent moment, and then simultaneously tilted the bottle in their hands to their lips and began drinking.
In the back of his mind, Sanji reveled in anticipation of what was to come. Zoro had taken the bait, hook, line, and sinker, and all Sanji had to do was reel him in one bottle at a time. Victory - and sex - was so close he could taste it.
Too bad he’d forgotten to factor his competitive spirit into his cunning plan.
Part Two
Fandom: One Piece
Pairing: Zoro x Sanji
Rated: NC-17
Notes: Thanks again to metal_dog5 and bronzetigress who had to suffer through betaing all this porn. Any mistakes you find are my own pervy changes, post beta.
Summary: "You don't remember anything?"
Sanji watched with both amazement and disgust as Zoro tilted the sake barrel to his lips. The crowd egged Zoro on - Nami’s voice ringing clearly above the rest. Worn, curling wanted posters plastered the smoky tavern’s walls, stained brown with old, dried blood from bounties claimed. Flames danced in their glass houses on the wheel helms made into chandeliers. Scuffed wooden tables were bolted to the floor so as not to be knocked over and destroyed in the inevitable fights that broke out. The open windows let in the salty scent from the sea.
Sanji’s cigarette smoke joined the smoggy air and he eyed the urchin-haired bartender behind the length of bar. The cocky middle-aged man didn’t look so cocky anymore. Sanji supposed he felt a little sorry for the guy. The contest was a great racket. If a patron drank an entire barrel full of sake, it was free. If the patron failed to finish, they had to pay for what they’d drunk. Most people, Sanji had learned, passed out before they reached the bottom of the barrel. But most people weren’t Zoro.
“Finish it!” Nami bellowed in Zoro’s ear, making his earrings chime. It was Zoro’s second barrel - the first had only wet his thirst for more - and the price was high. If he didn’t finish, the bartender would make him pay for both barrels, not to mention what Nami would do to him.
Zoro leaned back on his stool, gulping the sake as if it were water. A few droplets spilled down his chin. The swarthy, uncultured swine filling the tavern banged their cups on the tables, chanting, “Drink! Drink! Drink! Drink!”, while Franky performed a weird routine in the background, spelling out Zoro’s name with his body.
The last sips of sake slid down Zoro’s gullet. He thumped the empty barrel on the floor and released a long, loud belch that blew the hair back on the people standing closest to him. “UUUUURRRRRRPPPPPPP.”
The crowd cheered. Nami squealed and hugged Zoro, and Sanji muttered jealously, “I could’ve done that.” If two barrels resulted in a hug from his sweet Nami-swan, three barrels might garner him a kiss. Sanji threw his arms in the air. “I’m next!”
His volunteering to be the next contestant was drowned out by the roar of approval from the tavern’s patrons for Zoro. Eyes flashing with beli signs, Nami rushed from table to table, taking money from the bets she’d won. The bartender slumped miserably. Zoro belched again, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and squinted as he looked around the tavern. Rising from the stool, he staggered like a pachinko ball, first bumping into the empty barrel, then knocking against the bar, and finally tottering into a table.
“Whoa,” Zoro said, sitting down on the tabletop. He clutched the edge and blinked rapidly. “That was some good shit.”
One of the burly pirates at the table smacked Zoro heartily on the back in congratulations and sent Zoro sprawling face-first into Sanji. Sanji caught him before he knocked them both over. “Learn how to walk, shitty drunk.”
“M’not drunk.” Zoro’s glazed eyes said otherwise. His hands kneaded Sanji’s forearms. “I gotta piss.”
“What are you telling me for? Do you need someone to hold your dick?” Sanji shoved Zoro off of him. Zoro stumbled backwards, but managed not to fall. His hand went for the hilt of a katana.
“Wanna fight, blondie?” Zoro said, gaze narrowing.
Sanji grinned around his cigarette. Wiping the floor with Zoro’s drunken ass would be a cheap way to have fun. The night was looking up.
“Sanji-kun,” Nami sang from across the tavern. “Take Zoro back to the ship.”
“Yes, Nami-swan!” Sanji sent her his love and obedience with a heartfelt salute, and then shot Zoro a withering look. “Come on, dipshit. Let’s go.”
Zoro straightened, wobbled, and his hand fell to his side. “I still gotta piss.”
“How wonderful for you,” Sanji said, leading the way outside, amused by the way Zoro pinged against the tables between the bar and the door. It was a rare occasion that Zoro got drunk - it took an abundance of alcohol to get him merely tipsy, and he usually didn’t have enough money to reach even that state. Zoro wasn’t fond of having his senses dulled by alcohol, either, not wanting to be felled like a sloppy swordsman. He’d trained so his tolerance would be extremely high for that reason.
Sanji finished his cigarette as Zoro relieved himself like an uncouth cur against the side of a building. The pirate quarter of Boomingtown was alive with activity. Taverns outnumbered the other businesses in the quarter, raucous laughter, curses, and fights spilling from every one. Disreputable traders lurked in nameless doorways. Scruffy kids bumped into random pirates on the street, earning hard cuffs to the head. They ran away with gleaming smiles, pockets full of stolen coin. Perfumed ladies overflowing with beauty twitched their skirts at passersby with an invitation to visit the several brothels along the street.
Sanji’s heart pattered at the looks he received from a trio of ladies nearby. He thought their corsets appeared a bit tight and they might need assistance loosening them. He’d hate for them to faint. And if they brought him inside to show him their gratitude, he wouldn’t mind. It had been a while since he’d availed himself of a woman’s pleasure.
Zoro staggered out of the alley, reminding Sanji that he couldn’t do anything until he got the disgusting idiot back to the ship. Sanji crushed his cigarette butt beneath his heel and shot the ladies an apologetic smile, glad they weren’t able to hear the sourness of his tongue. “Damned marimo. I’m going to kick your head in when we get back to the Sunny.”
“Heh. I’d like to see-” Zoro bumped into Sanji and tottered, “-see you try.”
Annoyed, Sanji grabbed Zoro’s upper arm and dragged him in the direction of the docks. “I should just leave your ass and go and pay a visit to that brothel.”
“We’re going to a brothel?”
Sanji snorted. “You wouldn’t know what to do at one.”
Zoro scowled and tilted his chin in a way that meant he’d taken it as a challenge. The thought of Zoro rampaging like a bull through a brothel made Sanji shudder and vow to protect the ladies at all costs.
A hand grew out of the gangplank and stopped Zoro from falling off the bouncing board, as Sanji pulled him along. Sanji smiled in the direction of the crow’s nest. “Thank you, Robin-chwan! But his safety isn’t worth your exerting yourself!”
Robin didn’t answer, or acknowledge that she’d heard Sanji. Sanji would have to bring her something to drink and eat before returning to town. Maybe she’d want to show her gratitude for Sanji’s thoughtfulness and he wouldn’t have to return to town at all.
Sanji pinched his nose to stop the bleeding and hustled Zoro across the deck lawn and into the men’s cabin. He flipped the switch for the gas lanterns hanging on the cabin wall, shoved Zoro in the direction of his bunk, and debated whether to put on a fresh shirt.
Discarded dirty clothing, crumb-filled plates, medical texts, crude drawings and even cruder song lyrics, a broken sandal, full ashtrays, empty booze bottles, some of Usopp’s tools, and a dismembered invention littered the flat surfaces of the cabin. A burn hole singed the couch. Usopp and Luffy’s black powder-burned outlines marred one of the walls. The crew’s wanted posters hung with honor on another wall. Lockers, with the men’s names written neatly on them, overflowed with items that spilled from the partially open doors. Sheets and blankets hung like curtains from two of the top bunks. One of the bottom bunks was stripped bare. A red ball was stuck in the deck head from being thrown too hard.
“Is this the brothel?” Zoro asked, scratching his chin as he looked around.
Sanji snorted and opened his locker. “I didn’t think it was possible, but you’re even stupider when drunk.”
“Not drunk.” Sanji could see Zoro wobbling in the reflection of the mirror hanging on the locker door and rolled his eyes. Zoro turned around, caught his balance, and squinted in Sanji’s direction. “Are you the whore?”
Sanji whipped around. “What?!” He couldn’t have heard that right.
Zoro stumbled leftward as he pulled his shirt and haramaki over his head. “How much?”
Sanji didn’t know whether to be angry, dismayed, or laugh his ass off. Zoro was plowed. “I’m not a girl, idiot.”
“I sure as hell hope not,” Zoro said. The shirt and haramaki were tossed negligently onto the floor and Zoro wove unsteadily closer to Sanji.
Several confusing ingredients of Zoro’s makeup in Sanji’s mind suddenly made perfect sense. Sanji wanted to smack his forehead for being such a dunce. The indifference towards females, the lack of participation in the “education” of Luffy, Usopp, and Chopper about the fairer sex, the complete disregard for anything resembling manners or cleanliness, the perverse way he’d lovingly clean his swords - it all meant that Zoro didn’t like women. No wonder he and Zoro didn’t get along, with such a fundamental difference between them.
“You could’ve said something, dickhead,” Sanji told him, with an irritated shake of his head. It’s not like Sanji would’ve held it against Zoro - though, it would’ve given Sanji a whole lot more ammunition in their verbal warfare. Sanji smiled at the possibilities.
“You know, you kind of look like Sanji,” Zoro said and Sanji’s eyebrows climbed. Zoro was close enough that Sanji could smell the sake on his breath and see his unfocused eyes. Standing beside Sanji, Zoro propped a forearm against the locker and tried to lean in towards him. His forearm skittered against the metal surface when the sake sloshed in his brain and he stumbled forward. He caught himself by snaking an arm around Sanji’s waist and banging them both against Sanji’s open locker door.
“Oi, asshole, watch it,” Sanji growled, feeling the mirror behind his shoulders. It better not have broken.
“Talk like him, too,” Zoro continued as if he hadn’t bumbled into Sanji. From behind the strands of hair that had fallen in front of his eyes, Sanji saw Zoro lick his lips and the arm around his waist felt suddenly like a vice. “But Sanji’d never let me do this.”
Swifter than a drunk person should be able to move, Zoro darted in and pressed his lips to Sanji’s. Sanji banged the back of his head against the locker door in shock. Zoro was kissing him. Zoro was fucking kissing him! Badly. Not that Sanji wanted a better kiss, but Zoro just stood there with his mouth covering Sanji’s, not moving his lips.
But he was certainly moving his hand! Sanji meeped against Zoro’s mouth and his eyes bugged. Zoro had shoved his hand down the front of Sanji’s trousers a heartbeat after their mouths had met and was pawing at Sanji’s cock. Sanji’s lack of clean boxers meant Zoro was palm to bare skin and holy fuck Zoro was touching his cock.
Fuck, it felt good.
Wait, no! It was not good. Zoro was touching Sanji’s cock!
Sanji pulled his knee up between them and tried to kick Zoro away, but Zoro’s arm was down Sanji’s trousers and all he succeeded in doing was sending them both sprawling on the floor. Zoro’s katana sheaths clanked. Zoro landed on his back, Sanji landed on top of him, and Zoro’s hand was still wrapped around Sanji’s cock.
Zoro’s fingers flexed and he grinned drunkenly. “Good idea,” he said, and he started stroking Sanji’s cock. He arched his hips, grinding his pelvis against the back of the hand shoved down Sanji’s trousers. His other hand clamped on Sanji’s ass.
“What the fuck-nngh-are you doing?!” Sanji had to get free from the groping pervert. “Let go of me, you-rrrgghh-” Damn, Zoro was good with his hands. “Nuhhgg-”
“Yeah,” Zoro panted, hooked his ankle around the back of Sanji’s knee, and bucked harder.
Sanji’s fingernails dug into Zoro’s bare shoulders and he pressed his sweaty forehead against the back of his wrist. Pleasure melted his spine and the idea of moving vanished with a flick of Zoro’s thumb over Sanji’s cockhead. He was really letting this happen. His breath hitched, his body tightening. Fuck. Zoro’s rough, deft strokes were doing him in. He never would’ve thought- he didn’t- he- “Nnrrgh.”
Sanji came hard, spilling over Zoro’s hand and into the trousers. Spots danced behind his tightly closed eyelids and blood rushed in his ears. Climax blew the thoughts from his mind and it wasn’t until his cock became too sensitive that reality intruded again.
Sanji pushed up and back on his knees, grabbing Zoro’s wrist to keep him from accidentally ripping Sanji’s cock off. “Enough,” Sanji grunted, his voice as wrecked as the rest of him. Zoro was spread before him, bare skin flushed, chest heaving, and face slack with lust. His erection pushed against the material of his pants.
Panic twisted Sanji’s gut and he tugged Zoro’s hand free from the waistband of his trousers. He scrambled to his feet and choked when he saw Zoro bring his come-dampened fingers to his mouth and lick. Sanji turned on his heel and did what any sane ladies man would do - he fled.
“Wait,” Zoro called after him, as the cabin door was swinging shut. “Does that mean it was free?”
Sanji failed to drown himself in the bath after his encounter with Zoro and instead tried drowning himself in cooking to forget what had happened. He puffed on his cigarette and kneaded the bread dough with more vehemence than finesse. Flour decorated his apron covering his clean clothes (that he’d thankfully found in the bathroom). The scent of pastries baking in the oven didn’t soothe his nerves.
He couldn’t believe he’d allowed Zoro to jerk him off. What was wrong with him? Zoro was a guy, for fuck’s sake, and an asshole to boot. Okay, sure, Zoro was pretty damned good at giving hand jobs, which made sense since he liked having sex with men, but Sanji wasn’t the man that Zoro should be giving hand jobs to!
Sanji pounded the dough with his fists, switching his dwindling cigarette to the other side of his mouth. Fuck. What the hell was he going to do? Zoro was never going to let him live it down. Or worse, Zoro would want a repeat performance. Sanji’s cock stirred traitorously at the thought. He jabbed his cigarette out in the overflowing ashtray and immediately lit another. The haze of smoke hung heavily in the galley.
The only recourse that Sanji could think of was that he’d have to kick Zoro’s molesting ass. That way Zoro would know that Sanji hadn’t appreciated having a hand job forced on him and that it would never, ever happen again. No matter how much Sanji had enjoyed it.
Sanji cursed, adjusted his hard-on through his trousers, and went back to punching the bread dough. Damned, stupid, drunken marimo…
Sanji waited all of the following morning, but Zoro never said a word about what had transpired the night prior. No innuendo, no sly gestures, not even a knowing look. Zoro went about his morning as if nothing had happened, clomping in for breakfast stinking of sweat from his workout, eating like a slower version of Luffy, and then tromping back outside again to nap in the shade of the tree on deck.
It was driving Sanji insane. He knew Zoro was simply lying in wait to let it fly. The bastard probably had a ton of new, cutting insults to unleash, ranging from Sanji becoming a woman to Sanji’s dick size.
Sanji seethed and grew more restless from anticipation as the morning dragged by. The galley gleamed from the aggressive cleaning he’d given it while waiting for Zoro to show up. Zoro never showed and Sanji finally snapped.
Nami fluttered by with a cheerful, “Hello, Sanji-kun,” as Sanji climbed the steps to the bow. Her beauty made his heart sing before it plummeted again at the sight of Zoro staring after Nami with a worried look. The anger at the lack of confrontation swept over Sanji again.
Zoro eyed Sanji as he stomped up the remaining steps. “Did I win last night?” he asked, knocking Sanji for a loop.
“What?”
“Did I win last night?” Zoro repeated, scratching his ass. “I don’t remember much after I started on the second barrel, and that witch keeps cooing at me. It’s freaking me out.”
Sanji stared at Zoro for a long moment before saying slowly, “You don’t remember anything?”
Zoro shook his head and shot another apprehensive glance in the direction Nami had gone. “Should I worry that she’s going to cut me into pieces and sell the parts?”
“You won. Nami-san’s ecstatic,” Sanji said, tapping the toe of his shoe on the deck.
Twenty minutes later, Zoro slammed against the mast with the force of his three-katana block against Sanji’s kick and panted, “If I won and Nami’s happy, why are you trying to kick my ass?”
The party was winding down. The full orchestra had finished the last song and performers were packing their instruments away. Streamers drooped. Candles melted to stubs on the plate-strewn tables. Traces of wine lingered in glasses discarded on any flat surface. Linen napkins and confetti littered the carpeting. A few drunken revelers swayed to the music in their heads on the black and white marble dance floor. Finely dressed locals drifted from the ballroom in pairs or groups, heading home for the night.
Using his suit jacket as a pillow, Chopper was curled up beneath a table, sound asleep. Luffy had lost his suit and shirt sleeves at some point during the party, and was currently going from table to table, eating any leftover food he could find. Nami and Robin, beautiful in evening dresses, were conversing with their hosts. Franky and Usopp had discarded their suit coats, loosened the ties they’d been forced to wear, and were playing cards with new friends. Zoro had vanished hours ago. Sanji figured the idiot had gotten lost looking for the toilet.
Suit coat unbuttoned, Sanji leaned back in a chair and took a drag on his cigarette. He had a lingering buzz from the copious amount of wine that he’d drunk. The celebration of Wellington’s victory against the sadistic religious cult that had been terrorizing the city had started early and gone well into the night. Sanji had been blessed with filling many ladies’ dance cards throughout the evening. Dinner had been masterful, as well, and he’d visited the kitchens to give his props to the chef.
A gentle hand touched his shoulder. “Cook-” Robin paused and corrected herself with a soft smile. “Sanji-san, Nami asked if you would find Zoro-san. We are preparing to leave.”
“Of course! I am but a humble servant to my dazzling Queens.” Sanji captured Robin’s hand, pressed a kiss to her knuckles, and tried not to faint in joy from her allowance of such trespass. “I shall find that brainless moron, tie him up, and deposit him at your feet as a gift.”
Robin laughed lightly. “Meeting us at the carriage will be fine, Sanji-san.”
As she returned to Nami’s side, Sanji stabbed out his cigarette, buttoned his jacket, and floated off with wings of love on his feet. Perhaps they would reward him after he’d succeeded with his task. He hadn’t gotten to dance with either of them all evening. Maybe they’d like to share a private dance with him in their cabin once they’d returned to the ship. A private, naked dance…
Sanji stopped his nosebleed with a handkerchief as he stepped into the grand foyer. The main doors stood open and groomsmen assisted people to their carriages as they pulled up to the manor. Sanji eyed the door, hoping Zoro hadn’t wandered off outside. Searching for him would take too long if that were the case and Sanji would have to kill him once found for cutting into Sanji’s private dance time with Nami and Robin.
Turning the opposite way, Sanji began hunting through the interior of the manor for Zoro. Ornate mirrors and gilded framed oil paintings hung on the stone walls. Scrolled furniture made of dark wood partially hid the richly colored plush carpets that covered the floors. Vases, golden statues, and other treasures were displayed prominently on pedestals and in glass cabinets.
Sanji nodded to servants that he passed, occasionally asking if they’d seen a big, dumb ox in a suit wander by. No one had seen Zoro, but Sanji was undaunted. Sanji searched rooms set up for games, for seduction, and for study. The restrooms were empty. He slipped through an unused dining room and into the servants’ areas of the manor. The laundry, small dining area, and kitchen yielded no luck. Sanji spared another praising word for the chef before sliding past the wash boys to head downstairs into the wine cellar.
It was the first place Sanji should have thought of to look. Zoro was in the cool cellar, sprawled on the dirty floor in front of the giant wooden casks. Kongo, their hosts’ massive personal guard, was slumped against a tall wine rack. Gas lanterns hung from the ceiling, their lights glinting on what appeared to be hundreds of empty wine bottles strewn around. Zoro and Kongo’s combined snores echoed against the stone walls.
The rows of racks seemed light of stock and Sanji made a sound of disgust. “Ill-mannered ass,” he said as he walked over to Zoro. Zoro’s tie had disappeared and his dress shirt was unbuttoned obscenely to the ratty haramaki around his waist. His suit coat sleeves and shirt sleeves were shoved up his forearms. His katanas stood propped against one of the giant casks. A snot bubble expanded from his nose with each elephant-sized snore.
“Oi, shit swordsman, wake up,” Sanji said with a drop-kick to Zoro’s stomach.
Zoro oofed and bolted upright. Hand pressed against his stomach, he swayed a little as he looked confusedly up at Sanji from his seat on the floor. “What?”
“Time to go,” Sanji told him.
“Huh?”
Sanji kicked him much lighter in the thigh. “I said: time to go.”
Zoro blinked the slow blink of someone who’d imbibed heavily. “Where?”
“Fucker, how much did you drink?” Sanji said with a scowl when his foot bumped into an empty bottle, sending it rolling. “We’re guests, moron. You’re not supposed to drink them dry!”
“Hn.” Zoro yawned, lifted his arms in a stretch, and scratched the back of his head. “‘M’tired. What d’you want?”
“I said we’re leaving!”
“Oh.” Zoro smacked his lips, a sleep tear caught in the corner of his left eye. He looked around as if he didn’t recognize where he was, but otherwise didn’t move.
“Will you get up already?” Sanji bent and grabbed him by the arm, intending to yank him to his feet. Or drag him out of the cellar on his ass if need be.
Zoro apparently had other plans, though, and he wrapped his arm behind Sanji’s knees and tumbled Sanji onto the floor.
Sanji’s head smacked against the stone with a nasty crack. Lying on his back, he rubbed his head and cursed viciously. “Ow! Fuck! You stupid shit.” He was going to murder Zoro.
Zoro crawled up and over Sanji on his hands and knees. His body smelled like he’d fallen into a wine vat and he gazed down at Sanji wearing a lazy grin. “Hey.”
Sanji’s heart leapt to his throat in sudden distress, blocking the next round of curses. He was on his back, on the floor, with a drunken Zoro hovering over him. Not good, not good! Months might have passed, but Sanji was still traumatized from the last time Zoro was this drunk and this close to him.
Zoro began lowering his head. Sanji gibbered silently. He had to do something. He had to say something. He had to kick the pervert in the balls and run far, far away.
So why wasn’t he moving?
Zoro’s lips connected slightly off course, catching the side of Sanji’s mouth. The kiss was as terrible as the first one, nothing more than a firm pressure and a strong exhale from Zoro that gusted across Sanji’s upper lip. Sanji’s stomach coiled into quivering knots.
Zoro’s mouth sort of slid off Sanji’s like he couldn’t expend the effort to lift his head, and then the rest of him dropped heavily onto Sanji. The impact of his weight knocked some sense into Sanji. “Get off!” he yipped, shoving at Zoro’s shoulders.
Zoro’s response was to hold on tighter and nuzzle Sanji’s neck. “D’wanna. Comfy.”
“Well, I’m not!” Sanji’s legs were between Zoro’s thighs, which gave him the option of kneeing Zoro in the ass or flipping them over. But flipping them over would put Sanji in the exact same position he was when Zoro had jerked him off, and the enthusiastic response from his cock made his mind spasm in panic. He did not want to have sex with Zoro!
“Mmn,” Zoro hummed against the curve of Sanji’s neck, his mouth burning Sanji’s skin. “Wanna fuck?”
Yes. “No!”
Zoro ground his hips down against Sanji’s. Sanji could feel Zoro’s erection firming beside his own through the material of their trousers. “You can do me.”
Sanji’s mouth ran dry and all the remaining blood in his body made a straight shot for his cock.
Zoro nosed under Sanji’s jaw. “C’mon, sweetheart, I’m horny.”
The endearment made Sanji sputter incredulously. “Sweetheart?”
Sanji could feel the rotten smile against his Adam’s apple. “That’s what I’m gonna call you from now on.”
“Die,” Sanji growled, shoving at Zoro’s shoulders.
Zoro’s husky laugh pooled hotly in Sanji’s gut.
“Bas-nngh.” Sanji bit his tongue as Zoro ground against him again. Shit, that felt good.
“You’re so fucking hot when you’re mad,” Zoro’s lips branded Sanji’s skin, “even when you’re a jackass.”
Sanji rocked his hips upwards reflexively, meeting Zoro’s steadily building thrusts. The friction made his eyes roll back. He clung to Zoro’s shoulders and swallowed a moan. What was he doing? Wasn’t he supposed to be stopping- fuck- stop- oh god-
“One of these days, I’m going to break,” Zoro growled, his knees tightening on either side of Sanji’s hips. “I’m going to break and take you right out on the deck where everyone can see.”
Sanji squeezed his eyelids shut, heat licking at his spine. Zoro pumped his hips faster, harder. The steely length of Zoro’s cock rubbed beside Sanji’s, and Sanji would have done anything to have their clothing gone. His fingers twisted the material of Zoro’s suit coat, bucking into Zoro’s thrusts.
“I’d fuck you hard-” Zoro’s rhythm faltered and breathing turned ragged, “-fuck you until it’s only me that you want- ever- forever-”
Sanji’s head scraped against the stone floor as he threw it back and shoved his knuckles into his mouth to keep from crying out as orgasm slammed through him. His body jerked helplessly, cock pulsing, shooting come into his boxers. Zoro rutted against him savagely, driving towards his own release. Sanji was lost in the buzz of aftershock, heart racing, lungs starving for air.
“Sanji-nngghh-” Zoro came shuddering against Sanji, and the sound of his name on Zoro’s lips was like a lightning jolt. Sanji had just had sex with Zoro and, this time, Zoro knew who he was.
Dread, mortification, and some other weird emotion Sanji couldn’t name coalesced in a ball in his stomach. He stared, frozen, at the cross beams of the ceiling as Zoro collapsed atop of him. What the hell did he do? How could he let this happen? What did it mean? Oh fuck, had Kongo woken up?
A great, honking snore expelled from Zoro’s lips and tickled Sanji’s neck. The sensation vaulted Sanji into motion. In a blink of an eye, he’d thrown Zoro off, leapt to his feet, and fled to the opposite end of the cellar. Pressing into the corner made by two wine racks, Sanji drew a cigarette out of his pocket and cursed his shaking hand as he lit it. The deep drag he took from the cigarette did nothing to calm the storm inside of him.
Zoro’s snores blended with Kongo’s, who was still passed out across the room. The two slept on, oblivious to the blonde having a breakdown in the corner.
Sanji’s fretting had been for nothing, because Zoro didn’t seem to remember what he’d done to Sanji. “I’m not sure what happened after that,” Zoro told Luffy about drinking with Kongo, when, during breakfast the next morning, Luffy asked where Zoro had gone. Zoro flicked a glance at Sanji and rubbed the back of his neck. “But apparently I had a good time.”
Zoro had had a great time. Sanji couldn’t forget it. How could he? It was like a horrifying nightmare that he couldn’t wake up from and he didn’t know how to save himself.
Zoro, for his part, didn’t let on that he’d molested Sanji on the floor of the cellar in Wellington, or that he had any more perverted notions of getting into Sanji’s pants locked in that stupid head of his. The bastard ate, trained, and slept like normal, with the occasional roughhousing with Luffy, Usopp, and Chopper thrown in. He helped Franky with the ship, ignored Robin and Nami, and never failed to snipe back at Sanji when Sanji bitched deservedly at him. There were no implications, no hooded glances, and no provocative touches to show he felt anything towards Sanji but loathing.
Sanji was close to pulling his hair out over it. How could Zoro want to fuck Sanji and still treat Sanji like a piece of shit? Not that Sanji wanted Zoro to treat him any other way. In fact, Sanji wanted Zoro to treat him worse than usual, to make up for what he’d done. But it didn’t matter, anyway, because there wasn’t even a hint of lust from Zoro towards Sanji as weeks went by.
“What the fuck are you doing in here?!” Sanji exclaimed, startled, when Zoro barged into the bathroom. The cool cloth folded on Sanji’s head fell into the steaming bath water with a plop.
Sunlight streamed through the window above the tub. Puddles formed near the floor drain and dampened the stool standing beneath the shower head. Soap bubbles lingered on the shower knob from Sanji’s body scrubbing before he’d entered the bath.
Zoro held up the bucket of cleaning supplies. “My turn to clean the bathroom.”
Sanji was aware of how very naked he was in the bath. His skin pinked from the heat. “You could wait until I’m done.”
“You take too long. You’re like a fucking girl.”
“I am not a girl!” Sanji’s vehement shout bounced around the bathroom with embarrassing shrillness.
Zoro snorted, setting the bucket down on a stool. “Could’ve fooled me.”
Sanji shot to his feet, water cascading down his body and splashing over the rim of the tub. “Do I look like a girl to you?!”
Sanji regretted his irate actions the moment Zoro turned his head in Sanji’s direction. Sanji was naked in front of the guy who’d molested him twice. He may as well have tattooed “Take me, I’m yours” across his forehead. But his masculine pride was at stake and he clenched his fists to keep from covering his crotch. He did not look like a girl!
Zoro cast a disparaging glance over Sanji from head to knee and responded bluntly, “Yes, you do.”
Sanji’s jaw fell in shock from Zoro’s answer. Then, he saw red. “I DO NOT!” he exploded, launching from the tub into a handspring and slamming his heel down on top of Zoro’s head. He landed upright on his feet, bare toes digging into the tiled floor.
Zoro shook his head hard and smiled maliciously at Sanji. “You’re more of a girl than Robin and Nami put together.”
“Don’t you talk about them like that.” Sanji pivoted on the ball of his foot, lashing out in a side kick. Zoro blocked with a forearm and ducked the follow up round kick to the head.
“Afraid of your competition in the girly department?”
Sanji dropped to a crouch and swept his leg towards Zoro’s ankles. Zoro jumped and the air was cut where his feet had been. Hands on the floor, Sanji twisted his body, bringing his other leg off the ground in a raised scissor kick that connected with Zoro’s stomach before he landed. Zoro flew backwards at the impact and slammed into the wall separating the bathroom from the head.
Zoro gasped for breath and dropped to one knee. His arms shot up and crossed in a block as Sanji went in for a straight shot to the face. Zoro peered around his wrists. “Beating me up won’t change the fact that you have a chick’s legs, miniscule waist, and a pert little ass.”
“MY ASS IS NOT PERT!!!”
Sanji spun into a back kick, followed with a round kick, snap kick, side kick, round kick, and another spinning back kick. Zoro kept his head ducked behind his crossed arms, his knee and toe of his boot squealing against the tile as he was pushed backwards. “Your dick is so tiny, you may as well not even have one,” he jeered as he was pummeled.
“Fuck you!” Sanji flipped and cracked his heel on the cross block of Zoro’s wrists. “I have a huge-”, he pivoted into another side kick, “-damned-”, round kick, “-fucking-”, snap kick, “-manly-”, drop kick, “-dick!” With a leap and a turn, Sanji planned to kick Zoro right through the wall.
Zoro moved with Sanji’s jump, darting forward and under Sanji’s body. He shot upright, nabbed Sanji around the waist, and sent them both tumbling into the bath. Water plumed and overflowed from the tub. Sanji inhaled water up his nose and choked. He struggled against Zoro, the backs of his calves smacking against the edge of the tub, his feet in the air.
Zoro gurgled and held on, not seeming to care that they were drowning. Sanji writhed, trying to get free. Zoro’s shirt and haramaki dragged wetly against Sanji’s bare skin. One solid thigh dug into Sanji’s crotch. Sanji bucked against Zoro and realized, with horror, that his not-small-cock was getting hard.
Sanji’s fighting intensified. He twisted, jerked, and shoved in a panicked frenzy to get away. He only succeeded in making himself harder, frissions of pleasure jolting along his nerves everywhere he rubbed against Zoro. Soon, Zoro was going to notice and Sanji would be humiliated and Zoro would never let him live it down.
Or maybe Zoro would wrap his hand around Sanji’s cock and jerk him off again.
Sanji’s body tightened, his blood raced hotly through his veins. Fuck, he wanted that. He wanted Zoro’s big, solid fingers gripping his cock, jacking him with short, rough strokes that almost hurt. He wanted another bad kiss, to feel Zoro’s lips pressed against his own, using their mouths for something other than fighting. He could show Zoro what a good kiss was supposed to be like, hold that ugly face between his hands and plunder Zoro’s mouth until he whimpered breathlessly. Kind of like how Sanji sounded now.
Zoro released him suddenly, but shoved Sanji underwater with a hand to the chest as he pushed himself out of the tub. Sanji flailed and sputtered when he finally came up for air. The bathwater churned around him, clamped knees poking above the surface. He pushed his wet hair out of his face and glared at Zoro.
Zoro was across the bathroom, back to Sanji, wet clothes plastered to his body. Water sluiced from the sheaths strapped to his side. “Fucking target-brow. You made me get my katanas wet,” he growled, snagging a towel from the rack before storming stiffly out of the bathroom. The door slammed shut behind him.
“Oh, yeah?! Well…” Sanji trailed off feebly, his cheeks feeling like they were on fire. What was he going to say? ‘You made me horny.’ “Fucking marimo.”
Sanji sat in the bathtub, knees drawn to his chest, until his erection went away.
Sanji wanted to have sex with Zoro. Denying it was only making him want it more the longer it went on. Zoro would take off his shirt on deck, Sanji would get hard. Zoro would bend over to pick up his weights; Sanji had to run to the head to take care of his erection. When Zoro started a fight with him on the deck in front of everyone, Sanji nearly came in his pants. Zoro invaded Sanji’s fantasies when he masturbated and kicked the girls out of his dreams. He was always at the forefront in Sanji’s thoughts, tempting him to cross the line.
Sanji finally decided to give in, but he also decided that he’d have to get Zoro drunk first. There was no way he was letting the bastard remember them having sex. Sanji might have to be drunk, too, after learning what he needed to know about male pirates fucking from a cabin boy in port.
“It only hurts the first few times, after that you get used to it,” the fair teen had told him. “Just keep your bum greased and you’ll be fine. I use cooking lard. Keeps you slick all day and usually I can do four or five in a row before it dries up.”
The conversation had traumatized Sanji so badly he didn’t use cooking lard to make meals for a week.
The conversation hadn’t reduced Sanji’s longing to have sex with Zoro, though. He knew Zoro enjoyed sex in the ass, since he’d volunteered to let Sanji do him in Wellington. And it wasn’t as if Sanji wouldn’t be the one doing the fucking, anyway. With that in mind, and Sanji’s cock begging for some action, Sanji finally gave into his desire and set a plan in motion to get laid.
The bottles clinked against each other as Sanji shifted the brown bag in his arms to grasp the door handle. Quiet waves lapped against the Sunny’s hull in Confor harbor. Twilight colored the sky. Confor City rose from a hilltop surrounded by forest, with wide roads leading to and from the portcullis gates. Zoro had pulled first watch, and Luffy and the others had vanished into town the moment they’d docked. Sanji had spent most of the day restocking the supplies, and then he’d taken a quick bath and changed before returning to town to make a purchase of his own.
Sanji took a deep drag from his cigarette and stared at the wood door in front of him. If he’d timed it right - and he had, since he was watching from the harbor - Chopper would be up in the crow’s nest and Zoro would be in the men’s cabin gathering what little money he had to head into town. All Sanji had to do next was convince Zoro to drink with him without it being blatantly obvious that Sanji had an ulterior motive.
Here goes nothing. Tapping the toe of his shoe on the deck, Sanji exhaled a smoky breath and opened the door.
Zoro’s ass was in the air, his head in the locker as he searched through the cluttered bottom. Arousal surged at the sight of the taut stretch of Zoro’s pants. Sanji heeled the door shut behind him and twisted the lock.
Zoro poked his head out of the locker, saw it was Sanji, and sneered, “Oh, it’s you.”
“Feeling’s mutual.” Feigning nonchalance, Sanji carried the bag over to the low table and set it down amidst the mess strewn across the surface. Turning his back to Zoro, he swept the dirty clothes off the couch, removed the small jar he’d filled with cooking lard from his inner coat pocket, and shoved it deep between the couch cushions.
“Oi, marimo,” he said, taking off his coat and draping it over the back of the couch. He sat over where he’d stuffed the jar, removed a dark green glass bottle from the bag, and leaned back casually. “It’s your lucky night.”
Zoro shot Sanji a dark look as he slammed his locker door shut. “What are you talking about?”
Sanji held up the bottle. “Look what I won.”
“Yeah - And?”
“There’s ten of them,” Sanji said, baiting the hook, “and I’m in the mood to share.”
“With me,” Zoro said flatly, arms crossing.
Sanji shrugged. “You’re the only one here. But if you’re not interested in free booze…”
A pencil cracked under Zoro’s boot as he stalked over to the couch and snagged the bottle from Sanji. He looked at the bottle suspiciously, unplugged the cork, and took a long guzzle. Wiping the mouth with the back of his hand, he studied the label again. “Where’d you get this?”
“I told you, I won it. Clean out your ears, dumbshit.” Sanji crowed inwardly when Zoro took another drink. It looked like his plan was working. Sanji pulled another bottle from the bag and pried off the cork. The clear alcohol was a fairly expensive brand that reportedly had the kick of a Zeff in a bad mood. One bottle of it supposedly knocked a normal man into his cups.
Zoro wasn’t a normal man. Neither was Sanji. That’s why he’d bought ten.
After leaning his katanas against the side of the couch, Zoro plopped down onto the far end of it, leaving a large gap between himself and Sanji. His boots thunked on the table and sprinkled dirt on the papers caught beneath them. “What’d you do? Was it a contest for the best dressed pussy in town?”
Sanji bristled. “It was a cooking contest, asshole.” He stuck with the lie he’d created and was ready to elaborate right down to the type of knives he’d used to prepare the fake meal, if Zoro asked.
But Zoro merely indicated that he’d been listening. “Ah,” he said, and took another drink.
Sanji tilted the bottle in his hand to his lips and the sharp, bitter alcohol burned down his throat. He failed to completely suppress the reflexive cough and thumped his fist against his chest. That was some damned strong stuff.
Zoro sniggered. “Too strong for you, wimp?”
“No,” Sanji sneered and took another swig. He expected the taste this time and had no problems drinking it. He brushed the dampness from his lips with his fingers. “Bet I could drink twice as much as you.”
Zoro’s eyes narrowed. “Bet you pass out before you finish that bottle.”
Challenge crackled in the air. They held each other’s measuring gazes for a long, silent moment, and then simultaneously tilted the bottle in their hands to their lips and began drinking.
In the back of his mind, Sanji reveled in anticipation of what was to come. Zoro had taken the bait, hook, line, and sinker, and all Sanji had to do was reel him in one bottle at a time. Victory - and sex - was so close he could taste it.
Too bad he’d forgotten to factor his competitive spirit into his cunning plan.
Part Two