The Nature of Things (SanjixZoro, ZoroxSanji) Chapter 13: Part One
Note: We don't own One Piece, obviously. Also, no beta on this one. All mistakes are mine.
Warnings for this chapter:
1) There is a chunk of SanjixZoro towards the end. (My blood is actually boiling in response to the fact that I have to make this a warning, but there it is. In short, I. Don't. Care. If. You. Don't. Like. Sanzo. It's important to the narrative in this story and there will be a nice chunk of Zosan in the last chapter so Deal With It.)
2) Zoro and Sanji say fuck a lot. Like, a LOT.
3) I may have messed with canon timeline a bit. I'm not actually sure.
4) Drunk dialogue.
Title: The Nature Of Things
Authors: sinisterbug and stark_black
Rating: Big fat R to NC-17
Paring: Zoro/hookers/Zoro, Sanji/hookers, and eventually Zoro/Sanji/Zoro
Warnings: Yaoi, language, and general stupidity.
Summary: When the Sunny docks, Sanji and Zoro sometimes seek out relief in some not so savory places. After crossing paths in town on more than one occasion, the two find they have a lot more in common than they would like to admit.
Rough hands moved over soft skin; chapped lips pressed on the lightly stubbled underside of a jaw. Muscles rippled slowly beneath tanned thighs as they rolled against slender, pale hips. Words, whispered between panting breaths, tumbled over the shell of an ear as fingers threaded through sweaty, dark hair.
Sanji had not moved from his seat on the wide couch since he had returned from the impromptu tour with Roe. He still reclined against the same cushions, still leaned his elbow on the same armrest. Nothing had changed. He was still in the same place.
But then again, everything had changed, and the cook was in another world.
Roe’s hands gripped the edge of the table a mere few inches from where Sanji’s ankle rested on his opposite knee. The companion lay on his back, his legs wound tightly around Sky’s waist, and he was breathing in soft, broken gasps into his lover’s mouth.
Sky was the one speaking, whispering what could only be described as sweet nothings against trembling lips. Sanji had heard every one of the phrases before-had even said some of them to a girl here or there at some point, but he had never said them like Sky said them to Roe. No, he had never meant them. Never in his life had Sanji heard anyone say those things with such reverence, such love, and the difference could have been measured in universes.
This was what it was like to be with someone you loved.
The dancers weren’t even doing anything that erotic, they were just rocking together, Sky’s cock sliding in and out of Roe’s body at a slow, sensual pace. He palmed at Roe’s length on and off, but it was like the brunette didn’t even need it. The tension in the air was tangible, the intensity of their lovemaking-holy shit that’s what it was, wasn’t it-bled out from their bodies, driving up the temperature in the room, making Sanji shiver even as sweat beaded on his forehead and ran down the back of his neck. It was heady, tantric.
Sanji couldn’t look away, and he almost couldn’t breathe.
Would he ever find something like this? Was he even worthy of something like this? God, what would it be like to have Zoro like this? To listen to the swordsman’s hitching breath as that amazing body wrapped around him? To feel that dark skin sliding against his so slowly it was almost painful? Shit. To be balls deep in Zoro as that fucking beautiful, green-haired, bastard ran his tongue up his throat? Could there be anything better than that? All Blue, maybe. Maybe not. Was it possible?
Roe let out a breathy moan and slid his hands up and over Sky’s shoulders. He cupped the back of the blond’s head and spoke so softly Sanji almost didn’t hear him.
“I’m gonna come…”
Sky’s arms started to tremble as he held himself over the other man’s body. His hips still moved slowly, but there might have been a bit more force in his thrusts.
“Wait,” he breathed, his voice breaking under the strain of his pleasure, “Wait for me, I’m so close… Please, baby, wait for me…”
Sanji’s stomach did a little flip and his cock jumped. He was already so turned on he wasn’t sure if he could take much more.
And then he heard Zoro’s voice in the back of his mind. A gasping, growling, Zoro, whispering words against Sanji’s own lips.
“Sanji… Sanji… I’m gonna come…”
The cook shuddered, his loins tightened deliciously, and he did the only thing he could think of.
He lifted his glass and polished off the last of the whiskey.
* * *
Edgar’s back was warm and slick against Zoro’s chest. The boy’s breath had finally slowed and evened out a while ago, but both he and Zoro were too comfortable to move. The swordsman lay staring at the ceiling, wondering how after having sex four times in the last few hours, and drinking three bottles of what was probably ludicrously expensive whiskey, he was almost ready to go again. He was young, yes, but hell, there was virile and then there was just fucking ridiculous.
Edgar stretched on top of him and turned his head to nuzzle his nose under Zoro’s chin. When he did, that smell invaded the swordsman’s senses. That smell of cigarettes and smoke from a fire and toast and aftershave and Zoro felt himself getting hard again-
He gently rolled Edgar off him and kissed the skin between the companion’s shoulder blades as an apology. He felt ashamed, not because of anything he had done with this kid that looked like he might be younger than Luffy, but because while that kid had been riding him like his very life depended on it, Zoro had pressed his face into that soft, blond hair, inhaled that familiar, smoky scent, and had come so hard he had definitely forgotten how to breathe for longer than was probably good for him. Now, he was smelling that scent again and would pound this companion into the mattress if he didn’t get up and go now.
Not that Edgar wouldn’t mind being pounded into the mattress, no, Zoro was pretty sure he would love that. It was the principle of the thing. He couldn’t stomach fucking prostitutes while he actively thought about Sanji the entire time. Yeah, it had been in the back of his mind for months, and yeah let’s not forget Christian and all that shit, but come on. That was just fucked up. Zoro was fucked up.
He knew he was fucked up.
And drunk. Really drunk.
Standing, Zoro found the floor tilted towards the window. He hadn’t remembered it tilting that far when he had entered. Then again, Edgar had been ripping off his clothes and climbing him like ship’s rigging so maybe he just hadn’t noticed?
“Hey, sexy,” Zoro grunted-shit did he just actually say that? Sounds so fucking stupid-"Where’d y’throw my clothes?”
Edgar giggled into a pillow and pointed to the floor by Zoro’s feet.
“Hn, thanks,” Zoro mumbled and went to work. Did shirts usually have so many holes in them? Which one did his head go through?
He stumbled out of the room, buttoning his pants. His boots had never come off, thankfully, he wouldn’t have been able to figure those out on his own. He looked right and then left, not sure which direction he needed to go to get back to the lounge, but not really caring either. If he got a little turned around it would give him some time to regain his composure. Wouldn’t do to come back in and have the cook see him falling all over himself. He would be hearing about it for weeks if he did.
He trailed his fingers along the wall as he made his way towards a lamp fixture he thought he remembered. He breathed deeply, ignoring the various noises coming from different rooms, focusing on his heartrate and thinking about drills his sensei had taught him to improve clarity. It wasn’t really helping, but it made Zoro feel like he was regaining some sense of control. Damnit, why was he going back to the lounge again? He could have just stayed the night with Edgar. He could have been sleeping right now.
No, no… Edgar smelled like Sanji, and Zoro needed to get away because Sanji’s smell was apparently a very dangerous aphrodisiac. He might actually die from all the sex that Sanji’s smell would make him have. At the very least he would cripple poor Edgar.
The lounge door was closed but Zoro knew he was in the right place. There were letters written in flowery script that spelled out Blue Room on the door about eye level. He remembered snickering at this earlier that evening, but he couldn’t remember why. He fumbled with the handle and slipped inside.
The room was hot.
It took Zoro a minute to process what was happening and why the temperature had increased so much since he had left, but when he finally did, he was impressed, to say the least.
The dancers, Sky and that other one, the dark haired one, were fucking on the table. They were going at it slow and hard, looking into each other’s eyes, gasping into each other’s mouths. It was sexy as hell, mostly because they were so into each other. Even completely blitzed Zoro could see there was more than just years and friendship and working relations between the two of them. There was love and trust.
Shit, if he could have Sanji like that, just once…
Speaking of Sanji, the cook was sitting in his same spot, his empty glass hanging from his fingers. A cigarette sat precariously between his lips, and those blue eyes watched the companions lazily, not noticing that Zoro had come back and was watching him in turn.
He was so fucking beautiful.
Zoro’s stomach rolled, not with nausea like he would have expected after as much alcohol as he had ingested, but with something like grief. How could he even entertain a thought like making love-pppfft, making love, that sounds so stupid-making… slow, gentle, passionate sex with Sanji? Maybe if Zoro played his cards right, they’d fuck someday. Maybe. If he could not screw things up, or at least not screw things up too badly, maybe someday Sanji would let Zoro suck him off. Maybe, if there was a god, and he or she wasn’t too terribly angry at the swordsman for not believing in them, Zoro could kiss Sanji. Just once. That would be…
Sanji’s gaze slid from the companions on the table and met Zoro’s eyes. The swordsman held his breath, waiting for the cook to look away or wave him off or whatever, but to his complete and utter astonishment none of those things happened. Sanji carefully set his glass down, took a long drag from his cigarette, and then beckoned to Zoro with one slender finger.
Time stopped and the floor did that strange tilting thing again.
What did this mean?
When Zoro didn’t budge, Sanji beckoned again, this time with his whole hand. He looked like he was getting impatient so Zoro, against his better judgement, moved. He stepped carefully around the table, not even sparing a glance at the amazing display going on only inches from where he stood, and slid onto the opposite end of the couch. His eyes never left Sanji’s face.
“Marimo,” Sanji said softly, his speech was slow and thick. The cook was drunk too.
Not knowing exactly what to say, Zoro replied simply, “Shit-cook.”
Sanji actually chuckled, and then turned back to watch the dancers. “You made it just in time.”
He had. The swordsman could hear the dark-haired one starting to keen, and the blond was grunting softly, whispering breathlessly against the other man’s lips. It was intoxicating, probably one of the sexiest things Zoro would ever get the chance to see.
However, Zoro spared them only a quick glance before letting his eyes drift back to Sanji’s face. The cook was sucking on the cigarette again, cheeks hollowed and lips pursed. Then he did that sexy thing where he pulled the stick from his mouth and breathed in deeper, bearing his teeth before letting it all out in a slow, thin stream.
Zoro wanted nothing else but to simply watch the cook. He just wanted to be there in that space while the tension mounted and peaked and the sound of the companions coming would shatter everything entirely. He wanted to see Sanji’s reaction, wanted to feel it when that tension finally broke and caused the cook’s arousal to flare brighter.
He was a few feet from where Sanji sat but he could still clearly see those lines of sweat running from that jaw down to slip below a starched collar.
Okay, Zoro changed his mind. What he really wanted was to lick the sweat off that pale skin.
Any moment now, Zoro knew that Sanji was going to reach his limit. He would turn to the swordsman and growl at him for being a creep. Or he would bark at him for being awkward or distracting or something like that. There was no way Zoro was getting away with this.
But again, Zoro was surprised. Sanji obviously knew he was being watched, but he said nothing, did nothing. He continued to watch the companions and let the swordsman watch him.
Shit, Zoro thought. What had he gotten himself into? He should have just stayed upstairs with Edgar.
* * *
Sanji was aware that he was drunk. Very, very drunk. He was also aware that despite Roe and Sky’s display being one of the hottest things he had ever seen, Zoro had no interest in it. He could feel the swordsman’s eyes on him, obvious, and penetrating. The bastard wasn’t even trying to be discrete.
If this had happened a few days ago, hell, if this had happened earlier tonight, Sanji would have been out of his mind with anxiety, and with questions. But as it happened, the alcohol, the heat of the room, the smell of sex in the air, and the sensual, beautiful, amazingly intense display in front of them occupied Sanji’s mind and provided just the right amount of distraction. He was so focused in the moment, and so turned on that he just… let it happen. What was the point of fighting it? Why ruin a good thing?
Sky was coming finally, hitching a ride on the last few waves of Roe’s climax. The two of them moaned and panted as Sky shuddered and stilled over Roe’s body. Sanji’s heart ached at the sight, his cock throbbed, his mouth was already dry but he swallowed against it because, well, what else was he going to do?
* * *
Zoro watched the cook shiver as the dancers slowly came back to themselves. He could hear them kissing, murmuring softly to each other as they caught their breath. When they parted and slid down off the table, Sky said something snarky and Sanji laughed. The brunette talked softly with Sanji and the two teased each other as the companion slipped his pants on and moved to sit on the arm of the couch. He looked tired but thoroughly fucked in the best way.
“Sky and I are going to go clean up real fast,” he said. “Is there anything we can get you two?”
Sanji smiled. “We could all probably use some water.”
Finding this incredibly funny for some reason, Zoro turned his head and snickered into the couch cushions.
“Yes, water, we can do that,” Sky murmured softly.
“Anything else?” the brunette asked. “You want us to… take our time, maybe? Give you two a few, uh, minutes?”
That made Zoro lift his head. The companion had a peculiar look on his face, and his eyes were trained on him, not Sanji. That was odd. But he was too drunk to be able to make sense of any underlying meanings, so Zoro chose to ignore this and reposition himself on the couch instead. He ended up sprawled with his back resting on the armrest, and his feet crossed a few inches from Sanji’s thigh.
“Take all the time you need,” Sanji chuckled, “We’ve worked you kind of hard tonight.”
“Don’t be silly,” the companion grinned, “It’s not work if you’re enjoying yourself.”
Then to Zoro’s horror, the brunette leaned down and pressed his lips to Sanji’s. It was a simple kiss, soft and chaste, but that was not the point. For some stupid reason, Zoro was sure this companion was doing this solely because he knew about Zoro’s obsession and was taunting him. It was ludicrous, but at that moment the swordsman was absolutely positive. He was about to sit up and tell the pretty, dark-eyed, menace to get the hell out if he wanted to stay pretty, but Sanji chose that moment to reach up and slide his fingers through dark hair.
Now embarrassed on top of being horrified, Zoro backed down and resigned himself to wallow in his own drunken misery. No matter how much it bothered him, he had no right to say anything if Sanji wanted it.
“You were… really great tonight, Roe,” Sanji’s said when they parted. His words came slowly as if he had to think about them for a few moments before trying them out. “You too, Sky. Thank you both.” His voice had gained that rough edge reserved for fights and low-lit rooms. Zoro fucking loved that edge.
“We’ll take our time, but we will come back.”
Zoro was back to being confused. Why did this companion-this Roe-think they wanted to be alone? Zoro did of course, but why would he think Sanji would be okay with that?
“All right, we’ll see you later then.”
Zoro didn’t even have the capacity to ponder what was happening anymore. It was obvious he was dreaming. You know what then? Fine. Bring it on, dream Sanji.
* * *
Sanji was silent for the few moments after the door closed, then he turned and looked at the swordsman lounging next to him. Zoro was completely wasted, but he seemed relaxed enough. Apparently, Edgar had done well working the rest of that tension out.
“So,” the cook said, “funny thing: earlier when I asked you to explain yourself, you said you were too drunk. Now, we have the perfect opportunity to hash things out and we’re both three sheets to the fucking wind.”
Zoro cocked his head to the side. “Wha-the hell duhz that even mean?”
Sanji grinned. “Never mind.”
“Meh,” Zoro adjusted himself once more, uncrossing his legs and then crossing them again the opposite way. “H’ad a good time?”
“Yes,” Sanji nodded.
“I don’t unnerstand how you… do that.”
The cook’s eyebrows lowered. His brain was pretty fuzzy so trying to figure out what Zoro meant was like wading through bog water. Figuratively of course. He wasn’t physically moving anywhere for a while.
“Do what?”
“Watch… that and then… do nothin’. I mean, I get how you do it, I just don-understand why.”
Sanji chuckled and then surprised himself with an honest answer.
“This shit’s still new to me. I’m getting better at being okay with it, but the whole thing still makes me… kind of nervous.”
Zoro’s face was thoughtful as he sat looking at Sanji. His eyebrows came together as his fingers lifted to scratch at his neck.
“Nervous… sex nervous?”
The smile that pulled at Sanji’s lips could not be contained. “Shut up. You know what I mean.”
Zoro nodded. “I… unnerstand.”
For some reason Sanji’s heart fluttered.
“Yeah?”
Zoro nodded slowly. “I don-ussually care what people think of me-”
“-Well, that’s obvious.”
“Ssshutup. I’m trynna sound all wise and shit.”
Chuckling, Sanji took another drag and watched Zoro try to hide a smile behind his fingertips.
“I don-care what people think of me… mossof the time. They don-like how I look er how I fight, I don-fucking care. But when it comes to thiss…” Zoro swallowed, and his eyes went dark and far away. “No one’s ever actually… giv’n me a hard time. Iss always been juss me, I giv’ myself a hard time. But ‘cause no one talked about it when I’s young, I felt it was wrong. I fellike it was a test. Something that I had’ta fight or it was gonna make me less than… what I could be. Blacken my soul… or whatever.”
He paused again, fingering at his eyelid. “Never mind, I dunno… ‘m fukin’ drunk. I don’t know how to explain it.”
A tightening in Sanji’s chest had stopped the cook’s breathing. He ached suddenly, his heart hurting for Zoro and for what Zoro had to have gone through. The swordsman’s words “I give myself a hard time” echoed through his mind, opening doors that he thought were locked tight, or didn’t even exist at all.
Then another thought struck the cook: Zoro seemed to be more inclined to talk the drunker he got. That was interesting, Sanji had never noticed that before.
“You seem to do philosophical conversations just fine while drunk.”
Zoro’s smile returned. He pulled his gaze away from whatever he was remembering and turned back to look at Sanji.
“I’m not asstupid as you think I am.”
There was something in the way the swordsman said those words that caused pain to tear itself through Sanji’s chest. The ache in his heart multiplied tenfold as the cook was reminded of just how little Zoro thought of him.
“I don’t…” he said softly, trailing off. The alcohol had slowed his speech, but the sudden despair he felt made it impossible to speak at all.
Zoro eyed him sideways and cocked an eyebrow. “Did I juss make you feel bad by making you think you made me feel bad?”
“I can’t make sense of that sentence,” Sanji murmured, rubbing at his eyes.
The room was quiet for a long stretch of moments. Sanji felt the tension rising, unwarranted and unwanted. Damnit, he was making things awkward and he had no idea how to fix it.
Finally, Zoro spoke.
“Okay,” he said softly and shifted. He sat up and moved sluggishly across the couch to sit on the cushion next to Sanji. He rested his elbow on the back and held his head up with the heel of his palm.
“I’m just gonna be straight with you for a second-”
“-Really? Here in a male brothel? I don’t think so.”
Sanji expected Zoro to bark at him for interrupting again but the swordsman just laughed.
“Okay, okay,” Zoro smiled, “that wass funny.”
Wow, Zoro was smiling at him.
“Thanks. Now, what were you saying?”
Zoro sighed. “I’m gonna try’n clear the air so promise you won’t interrupt for like, a minute.”
“I can’t go a whole minute,” Sanji smirked. “I’ll give you thirty seconds.”
“Okay fine,” the swordsman swallowed, paused as if coming to a precipice and realizing it was a much higher drop than he had anticipated. “I-don-hate-you-okay?” he said suddenly, the words coming out in a rush so that they all bled together. Sanji stared at him, wide eyed, unsure if the words had even been said at all.
“W… what?”
“I know you think I hate you, but I don’t,” Zoro repeated. “I might even like you a bit. You’re annoying ass hell and you dress like a fucking peacock but you’re not a bad person.”
He seemed to be waiting for Sanji to explode because of the “peacock” comment, but Sanji held it in and when he said nothing, Zoro continued.
“I like that your fighting style comp… hm… is like mine. And both of us…” he hesitated, just for just a moment.
“I would die for Luffy, and’m pretty sure that you would too.”
Zoro wasn’t looking at him but Sanji nodded anyway, heart pounding.
“You piss m’off,” the swordsman said, his voice growing quieter. “You piss m’off every fuckin’ day, s’metimes I don-even know why. But you’re brave’s hell and a damn fine cook n…” he trailed off again, sighing heavily before he spoke again. “Sucks for me, cause you’re also, like, a-hunerd percent my type.”
Sanji felt like his whole body was on fire. It took every ounce of his already depleted self-control to stay silent as Zoro continued.
“The sshit with Chrisstian, yeah he looked like you n’ stuff but… I mean I wassn’t tryin’ to…”
The swordsman seemed to struggle with something for a few seconds and it was all Sanji could do to stay quiet.
“There he wass n’ you juss happ’n t’look like each other, an I juss wanted to get it out of my sysstum. An then he saw’n opp… opp… a chance to fuck with our heads n’ took it. So don’t… don-fuckin’ worry about that shit. Don-make it out t’be more than it was.”
Disappointment welled in Sanji’s chest, but he only had a few moments to feel it before Zoro continued.
“Okay, that bein’ said,” the swordsman stopped and sighed heavily, “You’re a fuckin’, walkin’ tease. You’re a goddam fantassy come to life. I mean… with th’shit-eating grin n’ how you cut down guys ten times your size n’ you’re so f’ckin’ flexssible… Iss juss impossible not t’ think about it s’metimes. N’ now that you’re tryin… exp… doing new stuff-my’kina stuff… M’sry but I juss don-think I c’n deal withit ‘nymore.”
The words were out of Sanji’s mouth before he could even think about it.
“Don’t apologize.”
Zoro’s eyes opened and he fixed Sanji with an unreadable look.
Sanji’s heart was pounding against his ribcage and he tried to smile under all his trembling and found it was easier than he thought.
“You just complimented me in the most amazing way so don’t ruin it all by apologizing for it.”
Two dark eyebrows rose, drunkenly.
“Y’took that ass a complement?”
“How else would I take it?”
“I d’know,” Zoro said, “badly.”
Okay, Sanji deserved that. He wasn’t known for keeping his cool around the swordsman so Zoro’s fears were warranted.
There were many questions the cook wanted to ask. So many unspoken things sat on the tip of his tongue, waiting to slip out and cross lines that had been made without anyone ever drawing them. He wanted to ask every single one, screw the lines, bring on whatever consequences they produced. He wanted them. He could handle them.
Instead Sanji returned to the conversation they had dropped earlier.
“So, what you said before, about feeling responsible?”
Zoro made some sort of noise in the back of his throat and lowered his head to the back of the couch. He looked unbelievably tired in that moment, like the world had just dumped an ocean of problems on his shoulders.
“I am ressponsible, no matter how y’look at it,” he growled. “The reasson it bothers me ‘s that sometimes I wonner if I did it n’ purpose.”
“What?”
“Like I trieda ssteer you towards it t’make you more like… what I want? I d’know, shit I sound crazy.”
“You don’t sound crazy,” Sanji said quickly. “You sound… like-”
“-Like I’m obsessed? Like m’ really fuk’in attracted to you? Like I want you? Yes.”
Sanji couldn’t make his mouth move. His mind was blank with shock. Those simple, unbelievable words hung in the air between them, said almost offhandedly by a Zoro that was so pumped full of alcohol he was probably a fire hazard. The cook couldn’t believe it. The damn swordsman had just opened himself up and made himself the most vulnerable target possible in the eyes of his one and only rival.
What was Sanji supposed to do with that? It’s not like Zoro had just handed him his heart, but he had given over his pride, and with Zoro it was quite possible that was a much more valuable gift.
And it was a gift, Sanji was sure of that.
Shifting, Sanji turned his body to face the other man’s. He put an arm up on the back of the couch and studied the deep lines in Zoro’s brow. He hated that he was the one who had put those there, and he hated that he was the one that had caused so much uncertainty and discourse in the swordsman’s soul.
“Zoro,” he said, almost in a whisper.
Dark eyes opened and looked at him, hazy with drink, but calm and unexpectant.
Sanji took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“What do you want from me?”
* * *
Zoro’s guts did a weird flip thing. He was already sick from all the honesty, it wasn’t like he needed more to stress out about. He was such an idiot. Why had he just given all the ammo and advantage over to Sanji the fucking Love-Cook? He had to be some kind of masochist or pain slave or something because this just didn’t make any sense at all.
What did he want? Well, okay, there was a lot that he wanted. He wanted to lick every inch of the stupid cook’s skin. He wanted to shut that voice up with his cock and shove himself down that long throat. He wanted to ride Sanji’s dick until they both bled. He wanted to leave bite marks on Sanji’s back that didn’t go away for months…
…but he also wanted to wake up in the morning with blond hair tickling his nose. He wanted to get a sundae with all the frilly trimmings like nuts and whipped crème like he girls did. He wanted to drink and play cards in the boy’s bunk and look into blue eyes that were kind and filled with laughter. He wanted to hold hands on Sunny’s deck and watch the moon-shit, shit, shit!
Zoro was fucked, he was so fucked.
Steeling it all away before a panic attack could make things even worse, Zoro sighed and shook his head.
“I d’know.”
That was such a copout but what was he supposed to say?
His stomach did another flip as Sanji shifted closer and brought his face so close to Zoro’s that he could feel the warm breath against his cheeks.
“If we’re really being straight with each other right now,” Sanji said in that dick-teasing baritone, “there’s probably a few things I need to say too.”
Zoro took a deep breath and tried to will his mouth to close on his next words, but they came out maddeningly clear, and pathetically slow.
“If those things ‘r bout how much y’want me to suck your cock, I’ll listen. If not, I d’wanna hear ‘em.”
Sanji laughed. Not, just a quick chuckle at Zoro’s crassness or some kind of condescending snort, but a real laugh, straight from his belly. The cook threw back his head and bellowed at the ceiling for a few seconds before he brought himself close again. His forehead almost touched Zoro’s as he smiled wide and ran his fingers over the swordsman’s jaw.
“You’re gonna be the death of me, Marimo.”
Zoro wasn’t sure what to say, or do for that matter. The sensation of Sanji’s fingers on his skin was sending shivers rocketing down his spine, and that goddamn smile was tearing him apart. To his complete and utter dismay, his dick filled and pressed hard against the inside of his pants. Fucking great, that was just what he needed.
“Cook, if you’re fucking with me-”
“-I’m not right now, but I want to.”
Zoro wasn’t sure how long his breathing completely stopped before Sanji slapped gently at his cheek. It’s not like he had a choice. There was no air in the room. No more air at all anywhere. He was dead, and this was a cruel kind of hell where Sanji demons propositioned him as a joke.
“It just makes sense,” Sanji said once Zoro had let his breath out in a long whoosh. “We’re nakama, we trust each other. We both… want each other. With you I can learn in a safe place.”
“What d’you mean learn? What about Saul?”
“I didn’t fuck Saul,” Sanji chuckled suddenly. “I didn’t realize I was being shifty about that until I saw you get upset over it.”
Swallowing thickly, still not sure that this conversation was even real, Zoro closed the distance between them and rested his forehead against Sanji’s. The realization that Sanji had not yet… that he still hadn’t…
“So we’ve gone t’all these brothl’s and been around all these guyss that would fall allover themsselves at the shance to get fucked by you… and you’ve never...”
Sanji nodded. “Yes.”
“Well, we c’n fix that,” Zoro tilted his chin, ghosting the words across Sanji’s lips. “Right now. You c’n fuck me right here on thiss couch. Less go.”
He felt Sanji’s sharp inhale and was momentarily filled with a sense of overwhelming victory, but then the cook put his hands on Zoro’s cheeks and held him still.
“Not like this,” Sanji said softly. “I want you sober. I want me to be sober. I wanna look you in the eye when you come and know you’re totally there with me.”
Zoro shuddered so hard he teeth rattled. His cock was so hard it hurt. Unable to look into those sharp, blue eyes for another second, Zoro closed his eyes and growled low in his throat.
“Shit… shiiiit. Goddamnit, okay. I need water. Sobering up now.”
Sanji let out another one of those charming belly laughs, and as if their conversation had signaled them, the door opened and Sky and Roe returned.
“Someone say they need water?” Roe’s smile was shit-eating. Zoro wouldn’t have been a bit surprised if he discovered that the two companions had been listening at the door this entire time.
“We brought coffee too,” Sky said, “and breakfast.”
“Oh my God, breakfast?” Sanji turned around bewildered. “Is it morning already?”
Chuckling, Roe set a tray with a pitcher, a kettle, and several glasses down on the table. “It’s a little after five.” Sky followed suite and started to unload covered dishes and bowls.
Not particularly hungry, especially after his conversation with Sanji, Zoro was not very interested in eating. However, when the tray covers were removed and the smells of bacon and sausages and pancakes invaded his senses, Zoro thought this was the greatest idea ever. Coffee would help sober him up. The food would soak up the alcohol.
Maybe they could rent a room at a hotel or something and just hole themselves up for the day. Would Sanji be okay with that? Some shabby room somewhere that was quiet and private where Zoro would let Sanji do literally anything he wanted to him? Shit he would let the cook tie him up and slap him around with a rubber chicken if that was his thing. Dress him up like a panda. Make him bark like a dog or moo like a cow. Just as long as Sanji was going to touch him, put his mouth on him. Fuck, Zoro couldn’t think of anything he wouldn’t do.
The companions entertained them with stories as Sanji drank coffee and Zoro stuffed his face. He wasn’t worried about getting sick. He would be fine as long as he didn’t sleep for a while. The cook gave him sly looks across the table once in a while, but didn’t talk to him or try anything like groping at him underneath the table, which Zoro had been sure he was going to do.
As the haze of drunkenness began to lift and things started to get clearer, Zoro started to doubt the events of the past few hours. There was no way he had actually blurted out his feelings for Sanji-well, a toned down version of his feelings anyway. There was no way in hell he was going to tell the fucking cook the entire truth. And there was no way Sanji had propositioned him. That was just ridiculous. Zoro had been really drunk. It was completely understandable that he had hallucinated everything. Except for Edgar, that had definitely been real. He had the scratches to prove it.
At quarter after six, Sanji finally stood and excused them both. Sky and Roe escorted them back to the foyer, but said their goodbyes at the double doors where they had come from the night before. Sanji kissed them both, praising and thanking them for their time and their services. Sky grinned at Zoro and the swordsman gave him a small twitch of his lips and a nod, and then they were gone.
Sanji collected their belli and paid the bill, assuming that Zoro was still too drunk to settle affairs of any kind.
The swordsman was not still drunk, in fact the food and coffee had managed to sober him up quite nicely. It was just he wasn’t sure what to say or how to act. How much of it had been real? What should he do?
As he stood there contemplating the floor, Sanji moved in close and handed Zoro his swords before he slid his hands in his pockets.
“Feeling okay?” he asked.
Zoro nodded as he returned his weapons back in their place at his hip. “Yeah, feeling good.”
“That’s good.”
The tone of the cook’s voice made Zoro lift his head. Sanji was watching him with a small smile, and his eyes were soft and unchallenging.
“Where to?” Sanji asked.
Zoro felt a lump rise into his throat. “What?”
Sanji chuckled, “I said where to?”
Understanding, but still unable to completely believe it, Zoro swallowed and said carefully, “I don’t care.”
Smile widening, Sanji’s head tilted in that charming way, the same way it did when the cook was talking pretty barmaids out of their dresses, and he took a step backward. Zoro knew that tilt, and that sexy drop in his voice very well. He had heard it hundreds of times over the last few months, and oh fuck-him-running it was a million times sexier when it was directed at him.
“I need a bath,” the cook said quietly, “or at least a place to rinse off… join me?”
Zoro couldn’t get the words out so he merely nodded and followed the cook out the door.
TBC
Part 2 Here >>
All previous chapters here.
:]
Warnings for this chapter:
1) There is a chunk of SanjixZoro towards the end. (My blood is actually boiling in response to the fact that I have to make this a warning, but there it is. In short, I. Don't. Care. If. You. Don't. Like. Sanzo. It's important to the narrative in this story and there will be a nice chunk of Zosan in the last chapter so Deal With It.)
2) Zoro and Sanji say fuck a lot. Like, a LOT.
3) I may have messed with canon timeline a bit. I'm not actually sure.
4) Drunk dialogue.
Title: The Nature Of Things
Authors: sinisterbug and stark_black
Rating: Big fat R to NC-17
Paring: Zoro/hookers/Zoro, Sanji/hookers, and eventually Zoro/Sanji/Zoro
Warnings: Yaoi, language, and general stupidity.
Summary: When the Sunny docks, Sanji and Zoro sometimes seek out relief in some not so savory places. After crossing paths in town on more than one occasion, the two find they have a lot more in common than they would like to admit.
Rough hands moved over soft skin; chapped lips pressed on the lightly stubbled underside of a jaw. Muscles rippled slowly beneath tanned thighs as they rolled against slender, pale hips. Words, whispered between panting breaths, tumbled over the shell of an ear as fingers threaded through sweaty, dark hair.
Sanji had not moved from his seat on the wide couch since he had returned from the impromptu tour with Roe. He still reclined against the same cushions, still leaned his elbow on the same armrest. Nothing had changed. He was still in the same place.
But then again, everything had changed, and the cook was in another world.
Roe’s hands gripped the edge of the table a mere few inches from where Sanji’s ankle rested on his opposite knee. The companion lay on his back, his legs wound tightly around Sky’s waist, and he was breathing in soft, broken gasps into his lover’s mouth.
Sky was the one speaking, whispering what could only be described as sweet nothings against trembling lips. Sanji had heard every one of the phrases before-had even said some of them to a girl here or there at some point, but he had never said them like Sky said them to Roe. No, he had never meant them. Never in his life had Sanji heard anyone say those things with such reverence, such love, and the difference could have been measured in universes.
This was what it was like to be with someone you loved.
The dancers weren’t even doing anything that erotic, they were just rocking together, Sky’s cock sliding in and out of Roe’s body at a slow, sensual pace. He palmed at Roe’s length on and off, but it was like the brunette didn’t even need it. The tension in the air was tangible, the intensity of their lovemaking-holy shit that’s what it was, wasn’t it-bled out from their bodies, driving up the temperature in the room, making Sanji shiver even as sweat beaded on his forehead and ran down the back of his neck. It was heady, tantric.
Sanji couldn’t look away, and he almost couldn’t breathe.
Would he ever find something like this? Was he even worthy of something like this? God, what would it be like to have Zoro like this? To listen to the swordsman’s hitching breath as that amazing body wrapped around him? To feel that dark skin sliding against his so slowly it was almost painful? Shit. To be balls deep in Zoro as that fucking beautiful, green-haired, bastard ran his tongue up his throat? Could there be anything better than that? All Blue, maybe. Maybe not. Was it possible?
Roe let out a breathy moan and slid his hands up and over Sky’s shoulders. He cupped the back of the blond’s head and spoke so softly Sanji almost didn’t hear him.
“I’m gonna come…”
Sky’s arms started to tremble as he held himself over the other man’s body. His hips still moved slowly, but there might have been a bit more force in his thrusts.
“Wait,” he breathed, his voice breaking under the strain of his pleasure, “Wait for me, I’m so close… Please, baby, wait for me…”
Sanji’s stomach did a little flip and his cock jumped. He was already so turned on he wasn’t sure if he could take much more.
And then he heard Zoro’s voice in the back of his mind. A gasping, growling, Zoro, whispering words against Sanji’s own lips.
“Sanji… Sanji… I’m gonna come…”
The cook shuddered, his loins tightened deliciously, and he did the only thing he could think of.
He lifted his glass and polished off the last of the whiskey.
* * *
Edgar’s back was warm and slick against Zoro’s chest. The boy’s breath had finally slowed and evened out a while ago, but both he and Zoro were too comfortable to move. The swordsman lay staring at the ceiling, wondering how after having sex four times in the last few hours, and drinking three bottles of what was probably ludicrously expensive whiskey, he was almost ready to go again. He was young, yes, but hell, there was virile and then there was just fucking ridiculous.
Edgar stretched on top of him and turned his head to nuzzle his nose under Zoro’s chin. When he did, that smell invaded the swordsman’s senses. That smell of cigarettes and smoke from a fire and toast and aftershave and Zoro felt himself getting hard again-
He gently rolled Edgar off him and kissed the skin between the companion’s shoulder blades as an apology. He felt ashamed, not because of anything he had done with this kid that looked like he might be younger than Luffy, but because while that kid had been riding him like his very life depended on it, Zoro had pressed his face into that soft, blond hair, inhaled that familiar, smoky scent, and had come so hard he had definitely forgotten how to breathe for longer than was probably good for him. Now, he was smelling that scent again and would pound this companion into the mattress if he didn’t get up and go now.
Not that Edgar wouldn’t mind being pounded into the mattress, no, Zoro was pretty sure he would love that. It was the principle of the thing. He couldn’t stomach fucking prostitutes while he actively thought about Sanji the entire time. Yeah, it had been in the back of his mind for months, and yeah let’s not forget Christian and all that shit, but come on. That was just fucked up. Zoro was fucked up.
He knew he was fucked up.
And drunk. Really drunk.
Standing, Zoro found the floor tilted towards the window. He hadn’t remembered it tilting that far when he had entered. Then again, Edgar had been ripping off his clothes and climbing him like ship’s rigging so maybe he just hadn’t noticed?
“Hey, sexy,” Zoro grunted-shit did he just actually say that? Sounds so fucking stupid-"Where’d y’throw my clothes?”
Edgar giggled into a pillow and pointed to the floor by Zoro’s feet.
“Hn, thanks,” Zoro mumbled and went to work. Did shirts usually have so many holes in them? Which one did his head go through?
He stumbled out of the room, buttoning his pants. His boots had never come off, thankfully, he wouldn’t have been able to figure those out on his own. He looked right and then left, not sure which direction he needed to go to get back to the lounge, but not really caring either. If he got a little turned around it would give him some time to regain his composure. Wouldn’t do to come back in and have the cook see him falling all over himself. He would be hearing about it for weeks if he did.
He trailed his fingers along the wall as he made his way towards a lamp fixture he thought he remembered. He breathed deeply, ignoring the various noises coming from different rooms, focusing on his heartrate and thinking about drills his sensei had taught him to improve clarity. It wasn’t really helping, but it made Zoro feel like he was regaining some sense of control. Damnit, why was he going back to the lounge again? He could have just stayed the night with Edgar. He could have been sleeping right now.
No, no… Edgar smelled like Sanji, and Zoro needed to get away because Sanji’s smell was apparently a very dangerous aphrodisiac. He might actually die from all the sex that Sanji’s smell would make him have. At the very least he would cripple poor Edgar.
The lounge door was closed but Zoro knew he was in the right place. There were letters written in flowery script that spelled out Blue Room on the door about eye level. He remembered snickering at this earlier that evening, but he couldn’t remember why. He fumbled with the handle and slipped inside.
The room was hot.
It took Zoro a minute to process what was happening and why the temperature had increased so much since he had left, but when he finally did, he was impressed, to say the least.
The dancers, Sky and that other one, the dark haired one, were fucking on the table. They were going at it slow and hard, looking into each other’s eyes, gasping into each other’s mouths. It was sexy as hell, mostly because they were so into each other. Even completely blitzed Zoro could see there was more than just years and friendship and working relations between the two of them. There was love and trust.
Shit, if he could have Sanji like that, just once…
Speaking of Sanji, the cook was sitting in his same spot, his empty glass hanging from his fingers. A cigarette sat precariously between his lips, and those blue eyes watched the companions lazily, not noticing that Zoro had come back and was watching him in turn.
He was so fucking beautiful.
Zoro’s stomach rolled, not with nausea like he would have expected after as much alcohol as he had ingested, but with something like grief. How could he even entertain a thought like making love-pppfft, making love, that sounds so stupid-making… slow, gentle, passionate sex with Sanji? Maybe if Zoro played his cards right, they’d fuck someday. Maybe. If he could not screw things up, or at least not screw things up too badly, maybe someday Sanji would let Zoro suck him off. Maybe, if there was a god, and he or she wasn’t too terribly angry at the swordsman for not believing in them, Zoro could kiss Sanji. Just once. That would be…
Sanji’s gaze slid from the companions on the table and met Zoro’s eyes. The swordsman held his breath, waiting for the cook to look away or wave him off or whatever, but to his complete and utter astonishment none of those things happened. Sanji carefully set his glass down, took a long drag from his cigarette, and then beckoned to Zoro with one slender finger.
Time stopped and the floor did that strange tilting thing again.
What did this mean?
When Zoro didn’t budge, Sanji beckoned again, this time with his whole hand. He looked like he was getting impatient so Zoro, against his better judgement, moved. He stepped carefully around the table, not even sparing a glance at the amazing display going on only inches from where he stood, and slid onto the opposite end of the couch. His eyes never left Sanji’s face.
“Marimo,” Sanji said softly, his speech was slow and thick. The cook was drunk too.
Not knowing exactly what to say, Zoro replied simply, “Shit-cook.”
Sanji actually chuckled, and then turned back to watch the dancers. “You made it just in time.”
He had. The swordsman could hear the dark-haired one starting to keen, and the blond was grunting softly, whispering breathlessly against the other man’s lips. It was intoxicating, probably one of the sexiest things Zoro would ever get the chance to see.
However, Zoro spared them only a quick glance before letting his eyes drift back to Sanji’s face. The cook was sucking on the cigarette again, cheeks hollowed and lips pursed. Then he did that sexy thing where he pulled the stick from his mouth and breathed in deeper, bearing his teeth before letting it all out in a slow, thin stream.
Zoro wanted nothing else but to simply watch the cook. He just wanted to be there in that space while the tension mounted and peaked and the sound of the companions coming would shatter everything entirely. He wanted to see Sanji’s reaction, wanted to feel it when that tension finally broke and caused the cook’s arousal to flare brighter.
He was a few feet from where Sanji sat but he could still clearly see those lines of sweat running from that jaw down to slip below a starched collar.
Okay, Zoro changed his mind. What he really wanted was to lick the sweat off that pale skin.
Any moment now, Zoro knew that Sanji was going to reach his limit. He would turn to the swordsman and growl at him for being a creep. Or he would bark at him for being awkward or distracting or something like that. There was no way Zoro was getting away with this.
But again, Zoro was surprised. Sanji obviously knew he was being watched, but he said nothing, did nothing. He continued to watch the companions and let the swordsman watch him.
Shit, Zoro thought. What had he gotten himself into? He should have just stayed upstairs with Edgar.
* * *
Sanji was aware that he was drunk. Very, very drunk. He was also aware that despite Roe and Sky’s display being one of the hottest things he had ever seen, Zoro had no interest in it. He could feel the swordsman’s eyes on him, obvious, and penetrating. The bastard wasn’t even trying to be discrete.
If this had happened a few days ago, hell, if this had happened earlier tonight, Sanji would have been out of his mind with anxiety, and with questions. But as it happened, the alcohol, the heat of the room, the smell of sex in the air, and the sensual, beautiful, amazingly intense display in front of them occupied Sanji’s mind and provided just the right amount of distraction. He was so focused in the moment, and so turned on that he just… let it happen. What was the point of fighting it? Why ruin a good thing?
Sky was coming finally, hitching a ride on the last few waves of Roe’s climax. The two of them moaned and panted as Sky shuddered and stilled over Roe’s body. Sanji’s heart ached at the sight, his cock throbbed, his mouth was already dry but he swallowed against it because, well, what else was he going to do?
* * *
Zoro watched the cook shiver as the dancers slowly came back to themselves. He could hear them kissing, murmuring softly to each other as they caught their breath. When they parted and slid down off the table, Sky said something snarky and Sanji laughed. The brunette talked softly with Sanji and the two teased each other as the companion slipped his pants on and moved to sit on the arm of the couch. He looked tired but thoroughly fucked in the best way.
“Sky and I are going to go clean up real fast,” he said. “Is there anything we can get you two?”
Sanji smiled. “We could all probably use some water.”
Finding this incredibly funny for some reason, Zoro turned his head and snickered into the couch cushions.
“Yes, water, we can do that,” Sky murmured softly.
“Anything else?” the brunette asked. “You want us to… take our time, maybe? Give you two a few, uh, minutes?”
That made Zoro lift his head. The companion had a peculiar look on his face, and his eyes were trained on him, not Sanji. That was odd. But he was too drunk to be able to make sense of any underlying meanings, so Zoro chose to ignore this and reposition himself on the couch instead. He ended up sprawled with his back resting on the armrest, and his feet crossed a few inches from Sanji’s thigh.
“Take all the time you need,” Sanji chuckled, “We’ve worked you kind of hard tonight.”
“Don’t be silly,” the companion grinned, “It’s not work if you’re enjoying yourself.”
Then to Zoro’s horror, the brunette leaned down and pressed his lips to Sanji’s. It was a simple kiss, soft and chaste, but that was not the point. For some stupid reason, Zoro was sure this companion was doing this solely because he knew about Zoro’s obsession and was taunting him. It was ludicrous, but at that moment the swordsman was absolutely positive. He was about to sit up and tell the pretty, dark-eyed, menace to get the hell out if he wanted to stay pretty, but Sanji chose that moment to reach up and slide his fingers through dark hair.
Now embarrassed on top of being horrified, Zoro backed down and resigned himself to wallow in his own drunken misery. No matter how much it bothered him, he had no right to say anything if Sanji wanted it.
“You were… really great tonight, Roe,” Sanji’s said when they parted. His words came slowly as if he had to think about them for a few moments before trying them out. “You too, Sky. Thank you both.” His voice had gained that rough edge reserved for fights and low-lit rooms. Zoro fucking loved that edge.
“We’ll take our time, but we will come back.”
Zoro was back to being confused. Why did this companion-this Roe-think they wanted to be alone? Zoro did of course, but why would he think Sanji would be okay with that?
“All right, we’ll see you later then.”
Zoro didn’t even have the capacity to ponder what was happening anymore. It was obvious he was dreaming. You know what then? Fine. Bring it on, dream Sanji.
* * *
Sanji was silent for the few moments after the door closed, then he turned and looked at the swordsman lounging next to him. Zoro was completely wasted, but he seemed relaxed enough. Apparently, Edgar had done well working the rest of that tension out.
“So,” the cook said, “funny thing: earlier when I asked you to explain yourself, you said you were too drunk. Now, we have the perfect opportunity to hash things out and we’re both three sheets to the fucking wind.”
Zoro cocked his head to the side. “Wha-the hell duhz that even mean?”
Sanji grinned. “Never mind.”
“Meh,” Zoro adjusted himself once more, uncrossing his legs and then crossing them again the opposite way. “H’ad a good time?”
“Yes,” Sanji nodded.
“I don’t unnerstand how you… do that.”
The cook’s eyebrows lowered. His brain was pretty fuzzy so trying to figure out what Zoro meant was like wading through bog water. Figuratively of course. He wasn’t physically moving anywhere for a while.
“Do what?”
“Watch… that and then… do nothin’. I mean, I get how you do it, I just don-understand why.”
Sanji chuckled and then surprised himself with an honest answer.
“This shit’s still new to me. I’m getting better at being okay with it, but the whole thing still makes me… kind of nervous.”
Zoro’s face was thoughtful as he sat looking at Sanji. His eyebrows came together as his fingers lifted to scratch at his neck.
“Nervous… sex nervous?”
The smile that pulled at Sanji’s lips could not be contained. “Shut up. You know what I mean.”
Zoro nodded. “I… unnerstand.”
For some reason Sanji’s heart fluttered.
“Yeah?”
Zoro nodded slowly. “I don-ussually care what people think of me-”
“-Well, that’s obvious.”
“Ssshutup. I’m trynna sound all wise and shit.”
Chuckling, Sanji took another drag and watched Zoro try to hide a smile behind his fingertips.
“I don-care what people think of me… mossof the time. They don-like how I look er how I fight, I don-fucking care. But when it comes to thiss…” Zoro swallowed, and his eyes went dark and far away. “No one’s ever actually… giv’n me a hard time. Iss always been juss me, I giv’ myself a hard time. But ‘cause no one talked about it when I’s young, I felt it was wrong. I fellike it was a test. Something that I had’ta fight or it was gonna make me less than… what I could be. Blacken my soul… or whatever.”
He paused again, fingering at his eyelid. “Never mind, I dunno… ‘m fukin’ drunk. I don’t know how to explain it.”
A tightening in Sanji’s chest had stopped the cook’s breathing. He ached suddenly, his heart hurting for Zoro and for what Zoro had to have gone through. The swordsman’s words “I give myself a hard time” echoed through his mind, opening doors that he thought were locked tight, or didn’t even exist at all.
Then another thought struck the cook: Zoro seemed to be more inclined to talk the drunker he got. That was interesting, Sanji had never noticed that before.
“You seem to do philosophical conversations just fine while drunk.”
Zoro’s smile returned. He pulled his gaze away from whatever he was remembering and turned back to look at Sanji.
“I’m not asstupid as you think I am.”
There was something in the way the swordsman said those words that caused pain to tear itself through Sanji’s chest. The ache in his heart multiplied tenfold as the cook was reminded of just how little Zoro thought of him.
“I don’t…” he said softly, trailing off. The alcohol had slowed his speech, but the sudden despair he felt made it impossible to speak at all.
Zoro eyed him sideways and cocked an eyebrow. “Did I juss make you feel bad by making you think you made me feel bad?”
“I can’t make sense of that sentence,” Sanji murmured, rubbing at his eyes.
The room was quiet for a long stretch of moments. Sanji felt the tension rising, unwarranted and unwanted. Damnit, he was making things awkward and he had no idea how to fix it.
Finally, Zoro spoke.
“Okay,” he said softly and shifted. He sat up and moved sluggishly across the couch to sit on the cushion next to Sanji. He rested his elbow on the back and held his head up with the heel of his palm.
“I’m just gonna be straight with you for a second-”
“-Really? Here in a male brothel? I don’t think so.”
Sanji expected Zoro to bark at him for interrupting again but the swordsman just laughed.
“Okay, okay,” Zoro smiled, “that wass funny.”
Wow, Zoro was smiling at him.
“Thanks. Now, what were you saying?”
Zoro sighed. “I’m gonna try’n clear the air so promise you won’t interrupt for like, a minute.”
“I can’t go a whole minute,” Sanji smirked. “I’ll give you thirty seconds.”
“Okay fine,” the swordsman swallowed, paused as if coming to a precipice and realizing it was a much higher drop than he had anticipated. “I-don-hate-you-okay?” he said suddenly, the words coming out in a rush so that they all bled together. Sanji stared at him, wide eyed, unsure if the words had even been said at all.
“W… what?”
“I know you think I hate you, but I don’t,” Zoro repeated. “I might even like you a bit. You’re annoying ass hell and you dress like a fucking peacock but you’re not a bad person.”
He seemed to be waiting for Sanji to explode because of the “peacock” comment, but Sanji held it in and when he said nothing, Zoro continued.
“I like that your fighting style comp… hm… is like mine. And both of us…” he hesitated, just for just a moment.
“I would die for Luffy, and’m pretty sure that you would too.”
Zoro wasn’t looking at him but Sanji nodded anyway, heart pounding.
“You piss m’off,” the swordsman said, his voice growing quieter. “You piss m’off every fuckin’ day, s’metimes I don-even know why. But you’re brave’s hell and a damn fine cook n…” he trailed off again, sighing heavily before he spoke again. “Sucks for me, cause you’re also, like, a-hunerd percent my type.”
Sanji felt like his whole body was on fire. It took every ounce of his already depleted self-control to stay silent as Zoro continued.
“The sshit with Chrisstian, yeah he looked like you n’ stuff but… I mean I wassn’t tryin’ to…”
The swordsman seemed to struggle with something for a few seconds and it was all Sanji could do to stay quiet.
“There he wass n’ you juss happ’n t’look like each other, an I juss wanted to get it out of my sysstum. An then he saw’n opp… opp… a chance to fuck with our heads n’ took it. So don’t… don-fuckin’ worry about that shit. Don-make it out t’be more than it was.”
Disappointment welled in Sanji’s chest, but he only had a few moments to feel it before Zoro continued.
“Okay, that bein’ said,” the swordsman stopped and sighed heavily, “You’re a fuckin’, walkin’ tease. You’re a goddam fantassy come to life. I mean… with th’shit-eating grin n’ how you cut down guys ten times your size n’ you’re so f’ckin’ flexssible… Iss juss impossible not t’ think about it s’metimes. N’ now that you’re tryin… exp… doing new stuff-my’kina stuff… M’sry but I juss don-think I c’n deal withit ‘nymore.”
The words were out of Sanji’s mouth before he could even think about it.
“Don’t apologize.”
Zoro’s eyes opened and he fixed Sanji with an unreadable look.
Sanji’s heart was pounding against his ribcage and he tried to smile under all his trembling and found it was easier than he thought.
“You just complimented me in the most amazing way so don’t ruin it all by apologizing for it.”
Two dark eyebrows rose, drunkenly.
“Y’took that ass a complement?”
“How else would I take it?”
“I d’know,” Zoro said, “badly.”
Okay, Sanji deserved that. He wasn’t known for keeping his cool around the swordsman so Zoro’s fears were warranted.
There were many questions the cook wanted to ask. So many unspoken things sat on the tip of his tongue, waiting to slip out and cross lines that had been made without anyone ever drawing them. He wanted to ask every single one, screw the lines, bring on whatever consequences they produced. He wanted them. He could handle them.
Instead Sanji returned to the conversation they had dropped earlier.
“So, what you said before, about feeling responsible?”
Zoro made some sort of noise in the back of his throat and lowered his head to the back of the couch. He looked unbelievably tired in that moment, like the world had just dumped an ocean of problems on his shoulders.
“I am ressponsible, no matter how y’look at it,” he growled. “The reasson it bothers me ‘s that sometimes I wonner if I did it n’ purpose.”
“What?”
“Like I trieda ssteer you towards it t’make you more like… what I want? I d’know, shit I sound crazy.”
“You don’t sound crazy,” Sanji said quickly. “You sound… like-”
“-Like I’m obsessed? Like m’ really fuk’in attracted to you? Like I want you? Yes.”
Sanji couldn’t make his mouth move. His mind was blank with shock. Those simple, unbelievable words hung in the air between them, said almost offhandedly by a Zoro that was so pumped full of alcohol he was probably a fire hazard. The cook couldn’t believe it. The damn swordsman had just opened himself up and made himself the most vulnerable target possible in the eyes of his one and only rival.
What was Sanji supposed to do with that? It’s not like Zoro had just handed him his heart, but he had given over his pride, and with Zoro it was quite possible that was a much more valuable gift.
And it was a gift, Sanji was sure of that.
Shifting, Sanji turned his body to face the other man’s. He put an arm up on the back of the couch and studied the deep lines in Zoro’s brow. He hated that he was the one who had put those there, and he hated that he was the one that had caused so much uncertainty and discourse in the swordsman’s soul.
“Zoro,” he said, almost in a whisper.
Dark eyes opened and looked at him, hazy with drink, but calm and unexpectant.
Sanji took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“What do you want from me?”
* * *
Zoro’s guts did a weird flip thing. He was already sick from all the honesty, it wasn’t like he needed more to stress out about. He was such an idiot. Why had he just given all the ammo and advantage over to Sanji the fucking Love-Cook? He had to be some kind of masochist or pain slave or something because this just didn’t make any sense at all.
What did he want? Well, okay, there was a lot that he wanted. He wanted to lick every inch of the stupid cook’s skin. He wanted to shut that voice up with his cock and shove himself down that long throat. He wanted to ride Sanji’s dick until they both bled. He wanted to leave bite marks on Sanji’s back that didn’t go away for months…
…but he also wanted to wake up in the morning with blond hair tickling his nose. He wanted to get a sundae with all the frilly trimmings like nuts and whipped crème like he girls did. He wanted to drink and play cards in the boy’s bunk and look into blue eyes that were kind and filled with laughter. He wanted to hold hands on Sunny’s deck and watch the moon-shit, shit, shit!
Zoro was fucked, he was so fucked.
Steeling it all away before a panic attack could make things even worse, Zoro sighed and shook his head.
“I d’know.”
That was such a copout but what was he supposed to say?
His stomach did another flip as Sanji shifted closer and brought his face so close to Zoro’s that he could feel the warm breath against his cheeks.
“If we’re really being straight with each other right now,” Sanji said in that dick-teasing baritone, “there’s probably a few things I need to say too.”
Zoro took a deep breath and tried to will his mouth to close on his next words, but they came out maddeningly clear, and pathetically slow.
“If those things ‘r bout how much y’want me to suck your cock, I’ll listen. If not, I d’wanna hear ‘em.”
Sanji laughed. Not, just a quick chuckle at Zoro’s crassness or some kind of condescending snort, but a real laugh, straight from his belly. The cook threw back his head and bellowed at the ceiling for a few seconds before he brought himself close again. His forehead almost touched Zoro’s as he smiled wide and ran his fingers over the swordsman’s jaw.
“You’re gonna be the death of me, Marimo.”
Zoro wasn’t sure what to say, or do for that matter. The sensation of Sanji’s fingers on his skin was sending shivers rocketing down his spine, and that goddamn smile was tearing him apart. To his complete and utter dismay, his dick filled and pressed hard against the inside of his pants. Fucking great, that was just what he needed.
“Cook, if you’re fucking with me-”
“-I’m not right now, but I want to.”
Zoro wasn’t sure how long his breathing completely stopped before Sanji slapped gently at his cheek. It’s not like he had a choice. There was no air in the room. No more air at all anywhere. He was dead, and this was a cruel kind of hell where Sanji demons propositioned him as a joke.
“It just makes sense,” Sanji said once Zoro had let his breath out in a long whoosh. “We’re nakama, we trust each other. We both… want each other. With you I can learn in a safe place.”
“What d’you mean learn? What about Saul?”
“I didn’t fuck Saul,” Sanji chuckled suddenly. “I didn’t realize I was being shifty about that until I saw you get upset over it.”
Swallowing thickly, still not sure that this conversation was even real, Zoro closed the distance between them and rested his forehead against Sanji’s. The realization that Sanji had not yet… that he still hadn’t…
“So we’ve gone t’all these brothl’s and been around all these guyss that would fall allover themsselves at the shance to get fucked by you… and you’ve never...”
Sanji nodded. “Yes.”
“Well, we c’n fix that,” Zoro tilted his chin, ghosting the words across Sanji’s lips. “Right now. You c’n fuck me right here on thiss couch. Less go.”
He felt Sanji’s sharp inhale and was momentarily filled with a sense of overwhelming victory, but then the cook put his hands on Zoro’s cheeks and held him still.
“Not like this,” Sanji said softly. “I want you sober. I want me to be sober. I wanna look you in the eye when you come and know you’re totally there with me.”
Zoro shuddered so hard he teeth rattled. His cock was so hard it hurt. Unable to look into those sharp, blue eyes for another second, Zoro closed his eyes and growled low in his throat.
“Shit… shiiiit. Goddamnit, okay. I need water. Sobering up now.”
Sanji let out another one of those charming belly laughs, and as if their conversation had signaled them, the door opened and Sky and Roe returned.
“Someone say they need water?” Roe’s smile was shit-eating. Zoro wouldn’t have been a bit surprised if he discovered that the two companions had been listening at the door this entire time.
“We brought coffee too,” Sky said, “and breakfast.”
“Oh my God, breakfast?” Sanji turned around bewildered. “Is it morning already?”
Chuckling, Roe set a tray with a pitcher, a kettle, and several glasses down on the table. “It’s a little after five.” Sky followed suite and started to unload covered dishes and bowls.
Not particularly hungry, especially after his conversation with Sanji, Zoro was not very interested in eating. However, when the tray covers were removed and the smells of bacon and sausages and pancakes invaded his senses, Zoro thought this was the greatest idea ever. Coffee would help sober him up. The food would soak up the alcohol.
Maybe they could rent a room at a hotel or something and just hole themselves up for the day. Would Sanji be okay with that? Some shabby room somewhere that was quiet and private where Zoro would let Sanji do literally anything he wanted to him? Shit he would let the cook tie him up and slap him around with a rubber chicken if that was his thing. Dress him up like a panda. Make him bark like a dog or moo like a cow. Just as long as Sanji was going to touch him, put his mouth on him. Fuck, Zoro couldn’t think of anything he wouldn’t do.
The companions entertained them with stories as Sanji drank coffee and Zoro stuffed his face. He wasn’t worried about getting sick. He would be fine as long as he didn’t sleep for a while. The cook gave him sly looks across the table once in a while, but didn’t talk to him or try anything like groping at him underneath the table, which Zoro had been sure he was going to do.
As the haze of drunkenness began to lift and things started to get clearer, Zoro started to doubt the events of the past few hours. There was no way he had actually blurted out his feelings for Sanji-well, a toned down version of his feelings anyway. There was no way in hell he was going to tell the fucking cook the entire truth. And there was no way Sanji had propositioned him. That was just ridiculous. Zoro had been really drunk. It was completely understandable that he had hallucinated everything. Except for Edgar, that had definitely been real. He had the scratches to prove it.
At quarter after six, Sanji finally stood and excused them both. Sky and Roe escorted them back to the foyer, but said their goodbyes at the double doors where they had come from the night before. Sanji kissed them both, praising and thanking them for their time and their services. Sky grinned at Zoro and the swordsman gave him a small twitch of his lips and a nod, and then they were gone.
Sanji collected their belli and paid the bill, assuming that Zoro was still too drunk to settle affairs of any kind.
The swordsman was not still drunk, in fact the food and coffee had managed to sober him up quite nicely. It was just he wasn’t sure what to say or how to act. How much of it had been real? What should he do?
As he stood there contemplating the floor, Sanji moved in close and handed Zoro his swords before he slid his hands in his pockets.
“Feeling okay?” he asked.
Zoro nodded as he returned his weapons back in their place at his hip. “Yeah, feeling good.”
“That’s good.”
The tone of the cook’s voice made Zoro lift his head. Sanji was watching him with a small smile, and his eyes were soft and unchallenging.
“Where to?” Sanji asked.
Zoro felt a lump rise into his throat. “What?”
Sanji chuckled, “I said where to?”
Understanding, but still unable to completely believe it, Zoro swallowed and said carefully, “I don’t care.”
Smile widening, Sanji’s head tilted in that charming way, the same way it did when the cook was talking pretty barmaids out of their dresses, and he took a step backward. Zoro knew that tilt, and that sexy drop in his voice very well. He had heard it hundreds of times over the last few months, and oh fuck-him-running it was a million times sexier when it was directed at him.
“I need a bath,” the cook said quietly, “or at least a place to rinse off… join me?”
Zoro couldn’t get the words out so he merely nodded and followed the cook out the door.
TBC
Part 2 Here >>
All previous chapters here.
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