Maldoror (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} maldoror_gw) wrote,@ 2008-03-30 10:05:00 |
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One Piece Fic: Sword Oil
Title: Sword Oil
Rating: NC17
Pairing: ZoroxKaku
Warning: Some spoilers for Water 7 and Enies Lobby. Also, something of a PWP and light on characterisation.
Written for that gimme-a-smut-prompt challenge awhile back, specificallychibi_trillian's prompt of ZoroxKaku and Sword Oil. This was 95% written for ages, but then life happened, a lot. Like the previous challenge fics, this isn't all that polished, and hey, it's at heart a PWP. But since my pr0n bunny are wusses that get beaten up by my story bunnies, it's 10000+ words and most of it isn't smut ^^; (Unless swordplay counts as smut which, seeing who's involved...)
Disclaimer: I very much do not own OP
Sword Oil
Sanji was shaping the cookie dough into little hearts on the baking tray when Zoro sidled up to him. Not that anybody else would have called it sidling, since Zoro marched up with his usual Badass Swordsman's swagger, but when it involved Zoro not going straight to the booze and instead hanging around Sanji watching the latter bake cookies, it counted as sidling.
"What do you want, moron?" asked Sanji encouragingly.
"Got a question." Zoro had the expression of a man chewing over a piece of fish, looking for bones.
"Not until eight."
"...Huh?"
"Dinner."
From the look on Zoro's face, it wasn't about dinner.
"Look, love-cook, we all know you're a skirt-chasing pervert, but I've only ever seen you strike out since we've met. Have you actually ever had any luck?"
"Fine," said Zoro, getting his breath back after a short but quite intense fight which left cookie dough on the ceiling and a foot-shaped bruise on Zoro's solar plexus. "I'll just get to the point."
"Yeah, you should," Sanji snarled, scraping the dough off and dropping it on the tray. He'd give that one to Luffy.
"I'm trying to..."
Sanji forgot about being cross with the lump of seaweed, forgot even about cookies, his spatula hovering mid-air; he'd heard Zoro say a lot of really dumb things in the time they'd sailed together, but he'd never heard the man hesitate before saying them.
Zoro gave him a disgruntled look which he then turned on the perfectly innocent cookies. "I guess what I'm saying is, you've chatted up a lot of girls. How do you do it? How do you let someone know you're interested, and...connect? In that way?"
Sanji's jaw sagged and gently thudded against the floured countertop.
"It should be easy," Zoro said, now talking to himself. "It's just a matter of saying it. And I tried, but every time I open my mouth, the words about to come out sound wrong. And I'm damn sure I will only have one shot at this. I can't fuck it up. But from the really idiotic look on your face right now, you're going to be no help, so forget I asked." Zoro turned towards the door, but jerked to a halt as Sanji materialized before him, hands on Zoro's shoulders.
"Marimo..." Sanji took a deep breath. "We fight a lot and for the record I think you're an idiot too, but this is one area where men have to stick together."
"Huh?"
"But there are conventions to respect."
Four minutes later, the galley door was locked with a sign tacked on it saying 'Dinner at eight' and a large ham joint hanging from the knob to keep Luffy at bay. Zoro, looking more and more confused, was sitting at the table opposite Sanji, a bottle of good sake and two glasses between them.
"Is all this really necessary?"
"It's tradition," said Sanji, pouring. "Okay, who is she? No! No, don't tell me," he added, as Zoro opened his mouth. "A gentleman shouldn't mention a lady's name in this context, it's crass, and besides, if you tell me, I'll feel obliged to go and charm her myself and save her from a rather frightening date with you. So, don't give me any details, just shut up and listen."
Zoro breathed out through his nose, picked up his glass, swallowed the entire contents in one shot and reached for the bottle with the air of one who is going to need a lot of alcohol if bloodshed was to be avoided.
"I will talk in generalities," said Sanji, pontificating with his cigarette. "First off, is she nearby?"
Zoro swallowed his next glass of sake, seemed to consider the question and then shrugged. "Yeah."
"Good, this will be hard enough in person, I'd hate to see you try to charm anyone via a love letter. Is she hot?" That wasn't part of the strategy lesson, it just slipped out on the tail of Sanji's curiosity.
Zoro didn't answer, but a look stole over his face as he stared dreamily over Sanji's shoulder. It was a startling mix of affectionate and lewd. Sanji took that for a 'hell yeah' and shot back his own glass to get over a sudden case of the heebie-jeebies. Zoro had always been aggressively uninterested in the beauties aboard their ship or any who crossed their path, it was an odd sensation to see him finally fall to the same fate as every man.
"Never mind, marimo, let's skip to the important stuff. Do you have anything in common?"
"Yeah," Zoro answered with absolutely no hesitation. "Swords."
Sanji hid a sudden smirk with a pull of his cigarette. "Really? Interesting. Is this person, perhaps, not a pirate? Maybe even, one could say, a member of the opposition?"
Zoro gave him a narrow-eyed scrutiny. "Why do you ask, cook?"
"Oh, no reason, no reason. It doesn't matter anyway, right? Love conquers all borders and bridges the political divide." He'd had strong suspicions ever since Zoro had phrased the question, but now it was a certainty. It was that pretty, slightly dorky Marines officer, the one with the glasses and a yen for Zoro's - haha - Zoro's swords. The only woman who could make the mighty Roronoa Zoro squeamish. This would be good blackmail material later on, but for now Sanji felt obligated to help his nakama to his goal.
"If you've got something in common, you're halfway there, marimo. It gives you a way to relate, something you're comfortable with. But you have to be more than comfortable. You have to be an expert. Yeah, stop giving me that look, I'm well aware you know a lot about those overgrown knives you carry around, but you have to make her feel that. You have to be smooth. You have to awe her. Win her. This is a battle, marimo! A battle of love!"
Under Zoro's unblinking gaze, Sanji put his fist back down on the table and blinked away the hearts from his eyes. "Only not literally a battle," he added, remembering who he was talking to. "It's more like a game."
"A game?" Zoro grumbled, not looking enthused. "I don't play stupid games."
"It's about time you started, idiot. Games mean you're playful, that you appreciate her wit and abilities; that you even accept the fact she might win. It means you're approachable, rather than a sword-wielding natural disaster who knocks down everything in his path. After all, what kind of interaction can two people have? You have two modes, seaweed, fighting and talking, and that will get you an enemy or a friend, but not a lover."
That earned him a thoughtful look. "That actually makes sense."
"Well don't sound so surprised. Now, while you're playing footsie, don't forget to flatter her. You have to make her feel valued, respected, or she'll think you're only after one thing. Sing her praises, lavish her with gifts, call her pet-names-" Zoro choked on his sake. "Okay, perhaps not, it wouldn't sound natural coming from you."
"Yeah. And if you're telling me to bellow Mellorine-"
"Don't you dare, that's my act."
"You can keep it."
Sanji shook his head. When the master points at the moon, the foolish disciple looks at the finger. "Moving on. Finally, if you've done everything and she's not run away screaming from you yet, you just need to lean in and kiss her. If she kisses back, she's yours."
"If she sends you flying with a right hook, she's Nami after you offered to fish a fallen peanut out of her cleavage."
"If she protests," Sanji corrected coldly, "then she's not interested. Now, if she shows abominable bad taste in men and decides to let you proceed ...do we have to have this talk?"
"Huh? Ugh, no, asshat, I know the next bit."
"You do?" Sanji looked at him curiously (and with some relief). "How did you get this far before if you don't even know step one?"
Zoro shrugged. "I don't know. It just happened. It was just a friends thing, we didn't need all this talking and awing and dancing around."
"Ah yes," said Sanji, with a wise inhale of smoke. Camaraderie was a way in if the girl felt sorry for you, and in Zoro's case, she'd have good cause.
"We'd share a friendly drink - a lot of friendly drinks - and then the three of us would end up in bed without having to-" and then Zoro had to lean sideways to dodge the cigarette Sanji coughed clear across the table.
"Three?!"
"Yeah."
"Oh," croaked Sanji. Had this- this mere beginner somehow stumbled upon the holy grail which Sanji had always dreamed of (repeatedly and wetly)? What a god-awful revelation. Sanji had always known life was unfair, but apparently it had chosen to kick sand in his face to boot.
"This...this didn't happen on this ship...right?" The last came out pleadingly as Sanji's world tipped slowly towards an abyss of horror the likes of which-
"Nah, love-cook, it was a few months before I met Luffy. I was-"
"I don't need the details," Sanji growled, fishing out another cigarette with shaking hands. "You got the basics, now get out of here."
Zoro stood up and headed to the door with a martial rhythm to his step. Sanji had known the cretin long enough now to guess Zoro was rehearsing steps in his head like it was a new sword move. Common interests, impress and awe, play games, gifts, praise, kiss, get lucky. Yeah, that'd work.
Sanji looked at the closed door, lifted his glass in a toast to the fair sex and muttered, "He's going to crash and burn sooooo badly...oh well, I hope she's not too cruel when she rejects him." Then he drank another toast to Zoro, just for luck, and went to make dinner.
The night air had cooled down to a most pleasant temperature, and the summer island's happy natives had all gone to bed while a mild breeze blew in from the sea. The natives were happy because they lived on a paradisiacal island, because their only cause for concern had been a cruel tyrant abruptly and painfully removed from his post by pirates, and because they weren't at the beck and call of an idiot like Spandam. Not that they were aware of that last cause for bliss. Kaku envied them horribly.
"'It will be a dangerous mission, Kaku'," he muttered to himself, parroting the words of a pompous ape in a mask. "'It needs someone with a cool head and a lot of strength'. Yes, then why didn't you give it to Lucci? Oh right, because if you'd suggested Lucci waste his time babysitting a bunch of Marines trailing the Straw Hats like nincompoops, he'd have ripped your head off, that's why."
The mission had sounded considerably more exciting and risky on paper. Spy on the destroyers of Enies Lobby, find out their itinerary, keep Central HQ informed so that a clever trap involving a couple of armadas could be set up. Spandam had even had the nerve to tell Kaku it wouldn't take long. Right. The bastard had already known about the growing mess in Mariejoie, the government negotiating with the New World revolutionaries, the political scene shifting like a layer of clay in a landslide. Kaku had been following the Thousand Sunny for four whole months, and he and the Marines had not actually received any orders at all for the past three. Kaku was getting a little worried about that. It added to his irritation.
He trudged through the underbrush without any appreciation for the paradisiacal island. He didn't actually like paradisiacal islands. They were too sunny, too cheerful, too relaxing, too full of happy idiots, and too warm when one chose to dress in a tracksuit from toe to chin and lug two swords around. Not that he could actually do anything with his swords; Spandam had strictly ordered him not to attack the enemy until Kaku received confirmation to do so.
It was the inaction that was hard to bear, Kaku told himself; the only thing remotely exciting to happen in the last four months was to keep his escort of Marines from getting eaten by a host of interesting Grand Line critters. Deep inside, though, he knew that what was really getting to him was the fact that wherever he and his Marines landed at a prudent distance from the Straw Hats, all they could see were happy people praising the wonderful pirates who'd helped get rid of this, that or the other problem. It was...disturbing.
...Kaku wondered if he was losing the plot a little...He wondered if he would ever be given the order to go after the Straw Hats with lethal intent and how he would feel about that...He wondered why he hadn't heard any news from Spandam or anybody in three months, he wondered why an island could be called paradisiacal when it contained this many mosquitoes, and he wondered what Zoro was doing and if he was waiting for Kaku somewhere.
If Kaku could wind back his thoughts and edit some out, that last would have been left on the cutting room floor. Unfortunately, he could not. Just one more reason for aggravation. His supposed secret mission had remained secret for all of one month. A month of watching Luffy and co beat up tyrants, monsters, slavers and the lot, a month of discreetly anchoring the Navy frigate in smuggler's coves and creeping around like a spy...After weeks of that kind of sneakiness, it'd been excruciatingly embarrassing to have Zoro sit down opposite him in a daub-and-wattle inn and ask him if he wanted any sake.
"Aren't you training today?" were the only stunned words that had come out of Kaku's mouth. He knew that Zoro trained on a daily basis, he kept a particularly close eye on Roronoa because he needed to know his main opponent's weaknesses and strengths, and on a good day Kaku could actually buy that excuse and run with it.
Zoro - not four feet away from him - had shrugged and given the freezing rain outside a meaningful glance. "The locals say it'll stop soon. I'll wait. I've already done my cold resistance training this week."
"That's why you were swimming in that iceflow lake-" at this juncture, Kaku's left foot had stepped heavily onto his right foot in an attempt to shut him up.
"Yeah. I'm going to have it warm."
"...What?"
"The sake. You?"
"I'm drinking tea."
"Okay. Hey, do you guys have any beer?"
"...Us guys?" Kaku had said carefully. And then, before he could help himself, "Beer...?"
"You're with that Navy ship that's been following us since we left fishman island, right? Do you guys have any beer? We're out, and the only stuff they have on this island is made from rice, like everything else they got here. Rice beer isn't the real thing. We can swap some dinosaur for it, we've got too much as it is. But maybe you guys got some too."
On their before-last landfall, Kaku had indeed been forced to cut up an impressive number of dinosaurs twice his size to save some Marines from becoming lunch. It hadn't occurred to him to return the favour by making the critters into lunch in turn.
"I don't think dinosaur is part of the approved Marines menu," he'd said, finally getting his groove back.
"Really? 'Cause our cook can do stuff with barbeque sauce that-"
They'd talked about food, drink, nutritional balance before and after battle, and eventually Kaku had had some of the sake. It'd tasted pretty bad, though not as bad as the dose of embarrassment he'd already swallowed.
He'd sent a coded message to Spandam to inform him his cover was blown, what there'd been of it. But he never got anything back. Neither had the Marines. So they'd sailed on, following their last orders like automatons, sending in regular reports with the Straw Hats' itinerary, the islands the pirates had visited, the bad guys they'd destroyed and the messes they'd caused or fixed. Discretion was no longer a priority, though the nervous Marines could not be persuaded to get nearer than two nautical miles of the Sunny. Kaku still kept up a modicum of circumspection in regards to the island inhabitants when he questioned them about Luffy and co (and then cut short their paeans of praise re same), but it was a fact - a fact he carefully omitted from the reports he still sent in - that he and Roronoa ran into each other on a semi-regular basis. There didn't seem to be any point in avoiding him: the man knew Kaku was here, he knew they were enemies but temporarily in a holding pattern, and he was pleasant to drink with since he did not talk too much and what he said was usually about swordplay and other interesting topics. Kaku was even developing a taste for sake, beer and grog.
So where was the infuriating Enemy of the State tonight? All the other Straw Hats were down in the village, getting drunk and enjoying the victory celebration (it was testimony to how long Kaku had been on this mission that he did not think of this as a superb occasion for assassination going down the drain), but he'd spotted Zoro slipping away from the party with a long bundle under his arm. It was the slipping away that intrigued him; as far as Kaku could discern, Zoro did not know the meaning of the word surreptitious. Yet tonight he'd acted like he didn't want any of his nakama with him. The only one who'd noticed his departure was the cook, who'd toasted Zoro from afar with a heart-shaped cookie and shouted, "Hey, good luck, dumbass!" A properly paranoid CP9 agent could only assume Zoro was up to no good, might even be creeping away on a mission to sabotage the Marines ship, for instance. Kaku was duty bound to check it out.
Unfortunately a gaggle of inebriated islanders had forced him to detour from Zoro's path into the forest, and now Zoro was undoubtedly lost, and Kaku with him. Irritation was breaking through Kaku's discipline, a slow boiling frustration...he didn't know what he was doing here, he didn't know what was happening to the world, why the Straw Hats refused to behave like real pirates, the rape-burn-pillage kind...and the longer his search lasted, the more he had to wonder what Zoro might be doing - and who he might be doing it with - to the point where he was soon going to have to admit to himself that he wasn't out here to follow the call of duty so much as chase the beckoning of curiosity.
Light flared up ahead, sudden and startling. All the jungle birds, critters and eerie things that went 'whooooop' abruptly shut up to give the illumination their full attention, and so did Kaku.
Zoro was standing in a jungle clearing, at the center of a large open space delineated by five man-sized torches stuck into the ground. He had all three of his swords drawn, a stance that spoke of spring traps and other deadly things. Kaku made like a ghost, approached in utter silence and hunkered down in a rhododendron.
He knew damn well he'd not made any noise, yet as soon as he was in position, Roronoa moved. The swords in his hands shot up, a slice of silver and reflected fire, and darted into a scissor swipe above his head, steel barely caressing steel in a move that would require split second timing and control. Then the weapons leapt to his side as he brought his arms apart and took one menacing step forward (Kaku was to one side of the clearing and glad of it). With a sweep the blades joined together like the beaks of crazy attack cranes, up near Zoro's head, and darted forward in a scything motion that would have ventilated any enemy dumb enough to stay standing before them.
Kaku stared, not even feeling the rhododendron leaf poking him in the back of the head. He'd seen Zoro do all sorts of training exercises, from the banal to some which would have qualified him as funny farm material even by CP9 and Rokushiki standards. But he'd never seen the pirate do this before. It was...Kaku wasn't sure what it was, except it was a bit like a succession of formal kata from a school whose master had gone stark raving mad halfway through; or possibly a ferocious war dance. It looked pretty cracked, Kaku told himself firmly, trying to keep his palms from itching and edging towards his own swords strapped to his back. A tiny part of him was whining and scratching at the gate, insisting this looked like a lot of fun...But he held it in check. Hanging out with Zoro in bars and inns- that is, collecting information by cleverly interrogating the enemy while hanging out with him in bars and inns was one thing, but if he stepped into that ring of fire, god only knew where it'd end up.
In the clearing, the movement accelerated. Zoro spun, swords swiping out sideways in a complex circular motion that carved out after-images of a deadly silver mandala. He dodged an invisible blow by bending back and low on one knee, then used the stance to pitch his weight forward and swipe upwards with his three swords in a move that would have made thin slices out of his imaginary opponent. Kaku, mouth as dry as a bleached skull, watched, entirely captivated. The man and his swords were one. He must know every inch of them like he knew his own arms and legs...Lucci had made occasional snide noises about Kaku's swords, and the pointlessness of involving alien bits of metal instead of relying on one's body directly. Kaku had tried to explain his choice of weapons without much success. The explanation he'd been grasping for was right in front of him now in dazzling deadly flashes gutting the air, steel as sensual as flesh, and Kaku wished he could parcel this moment up and send it to Lucci via courier bird with a note saying, "Get it now?"
And then it stopped.
The cessation of movement sent the torch fire roaring and flickering before they abated. In the silence, a particularly stupid insect went 'chirp?' and then shut it. Kaku only realized he'd stopped breathing when his lungs sent him a memo about oxygen, but with an addendum that they could wait a couple more minutes if necessary rather than get perforated by steel; the silence and the stillness was like a drawn sword, an object that could be either beautiful or deadly, hinging on the next move it would make.
Then Zoro lifted his head as if listening for something.
Kaku put his lungs on further hold, hunkered down and thought rhododendron thoughts. It didn't help. Zoro turned on himself until he was partially facing the bush, and one sword lifted and pointed at it like a finger.
Options now reduced to one, Kaku stood up and boldly walked into the clearing. Zoro did not seem in any way surprised or angry to see him, though the sword stayed pointed in Kaku's direction. Oddly enough, Kaku did not feel threatened. He had the feeling, rather, that something was now expected of him. Was he supposed to put on a display? The thought made him feel oddly self-conscious.
His swords were in his hands; he couldn't remember drawing them. He looked down their unadorned length, fire dancing on the edges; undecorated, unnamed, deadly anyway, just like him. Not many men could understand his fascination for these weapons, and he was facing one of them now. When he glanced up, he caught Zoro looking up from the two swords too, and their gazes met with the clash of a conversation that didn't need verbiage.
Zoro hefted his blades and grinned around the white hilt, but there wasn't much cause for alarm since Zoro wasn't wearing his bandana (Kaku steadfastly ignored the rationale of weighing three drawn swords against a clothing accessory as a way of judging a threat).
Then Zoro attacked, just like that, without a word or a warning- but his move was a little too slow and plainly telegraphed, in no way what this man was truly capable of.
Does he want to spar with me? Kaku wondered, mind a morass of perplexity and hypotheses. His swords, his sharper half, had shot up to parry.
Metal met with that particular chang that always set a swordsman's heart thumping. Kaku let the strike slide against his blades, turning on himself and aiming a kick at the man holding the weapons, as automatic a response as breathing out after breathing in. It was so instinctive that he'd not thought to lessen the viciousness of the blow. But Roronoa twisted and bent back, Kaku's foot thudded against the third sword's steel, and Kaku could swear he heard an appreciative snicker from behind the sword's hilt.
Kaku shoved away with his foot and spun around, swords swinging back low ready for a thrust. This time, he forced himself to slow down. He was in no way, shape or form attacking Zoro. Not for real. Spandam had made it very clear Kaku wasn't to do that. The director would probably not approve of this either, but it wasn't actually attacking, not as such, it was clear to both fighters that this was just a game, a spat of sparring. Kaku had been around Lucci long enough to know that orders were elastic and could be stretched to suit one's lust for battle.
Zoro didn't fall back, he was right in Kaku's face again. The bastard was fast, deadly and amazingly inventive with his Three Sword Style, and Kaku almost wished they were fighting for real to go to the end of this rush; almost, that is, within the limitation of not having an out and out death wish.
Weapons clashed again- but that blasted third sword darted past Kaku's guard and nicked his sleeve near the shoulder. It felt like a nick...yet when Kaku moved back, his sleeve fell off and gathered around his forearm and wrist like a stole. A tiny trickle of blood ran down his forearm from a corresponding slice circling his biceps, but that was inconsequential, Kaku barely noticed it, braced as he was for a follow-through.
Which never materialized. Zoro had stepped back and seemed to be waiting, swords swept down to brush the beaten grass of the clearing. He was apparently not going to take advantage of a potential distraction. Kaku shook the sleeve from his hand, then unzipped and shrugged off his top while making sure to keep one weapon at hand at all times just in case. Zoro did not move an inch until Kaku was ready again.
This time Kaku went on the attack. Lunge- Rankyaku! Zoro dived and rolled; the whistle of air shot over his head and broke a branch in the jungle beyond. He got to his feet instantly and spun around to parry as Kaku came at him from behind with Soru. Kaku did a cartwheel over their joined swords and jabbed downwards at the same time; since this was not a lethal match, he didn't try to skewer his opponent's kidney, but he didn't pull the strike much either; it sliced that green sash around Zoro's waist. Kaku landed back on his feet. His swords swung up into guarde with a sensual ripping sound that sliced the wind to ribbons; the night breeze played against his bare arms and the bead of sweat running down his back beneath the t-shirt. Kaku focused on his adversary, trying to deny to himself that he was having something perilously close to fun.
The slice was negligible, a cut against the green stripes, a bit of blood...Kaku was ready for a riposte, but instead Zoro stopped, planted his swords in the ground and undid the belt, even though it had not been in any danger of falling and snagging his legs. Kaku stood there, swords twitching at every one of Roronoa's movements, trying to get with the plot and having the feeling he was off track.
Zoro tossed the belt aside, picked up his swords and adopted an attack stance Kaku wasn't familiar with. But it looked dangerous. And thrilling, two terms which were getting dangerously close to interchangeable.
A staring match followed, the preparation for further violence. Kaku weighed his opponent; raw power, unsubtle in the way of tidal waves and forest fires and other natural disasters of magnitude. Kaku had thought back on their duel at Enies Lobby when he'd had the time, which was to say, he'd thought about it constantly while laid up in hospital, while sailing off on this mission, while stalking- that is, observing Roronoa and-...oh, who was he kidding. He could lie to others, but lying to oneself was counterproductive and risky for a secret agent, who could be a little too good at it. The swordsman obsessed him. There were people who could beat Kaku - Lucci came instantly to mind - but there was something more about Zoro that he couldn't define. Maybe it was because they saw eye to eye on a lot of things; Kaku had confirmed it in many a bar these past three months, but they'd known the score the moments their swords met on Enies Lobby, even as they fought and argued and insulted each other.
Talking of which, cracks about giraffes had been conspicuously absent- whoa!
An attack like a thresher gone wild forced Kaku to leap back almost to the tree-line. He darted forward, to the side, trying to break that deadly momentum. Dodge, weave, strike! Damn. Missed. A clear sharp ache in his side told him that Zoro for his part hadn't missed at all.
They broke apart, acknowledging the hit. Kaku dug his heels into the springy grass. If this match was being gauged on points, he was now behind again, but not for long. He lowered one sword, raised the other, a pincer-like stance with an attack wound up behind it that he'd been working on with Zoro specifically in mind, all those long boring days spent on board the frigate.
But Zoro wasn't responding to the implicit threat; he was just standing there, looking at Kaku. To be specific, he was looking at the slice in Kaku's t-shirt with an intensity that was going to burn further holes in the black material. As if he was waiting for something, expected something.
The pieces of the puzzle jumbled together and fell into a picture at the limit of the absurd. The far limit. Yet it made an odd sense, which told Kaku more than anything else that he'd been on this mission too long.
Kaku opened and closed his mouth a few times, stance forgotten, as he tried to formulate his suspicion.
"Zo- Roronoa...just...elucidate something for me. Is this your idea of a game?"
Behind the white hilt, Zoro's lips twitched up into a wolfish one-sided smile. "We can fight for real if you'd rather do that. Which do you want?"
Kaku knew the answer to that at least, but..."Are we really playing strip fencing?"
Zoro's eyes were thin slits of reflected firelight. "That's the idea," he said, speaking around his sword in a perfectly normal voice as if this was the perfectly normal suggestion of a perfectly normal mind.
Kaku nodded. Then again. He stopped himself from doing it a third time and looking like a stunned stork. "Okay, as long as that's understood," he said, planting his swords into the jungle floor and gripping the edge of his t-shirt.
The sword-filled grin this earned him did funny things to his stomach. Kaku, who'd thought his insides were impervious after half a lifetime of being the government's secret attack dog, wondered if he was getting a little out of his depth...
He crouched into an attack stance as soon as the shirt fluttered to the ground, but Zoro had leaned one sword against his legs and bent to fish around in the folds of the belt he'd discarded earlier. "Here, before I forget. I brought something for you."
That made about as much sense as the rest of the evening, then. "Oh?" was all Kaku ventured to say.
"Thought it might come in handy," Zoro said, tossing a hand-sized flask at Kaku across the length of the clearing. Kaku caught it and glanced at the label. It was sword oil, a very expensive variety judging by the beautiful wax seal on the cork, the thickness of the bottle and the calligraphy of the label which suggested it was made by monks squirreled away in a mountain monastery somewhere.
"...Thanks..." for helping me maintain the weapons which I was sort of hoping to stick into you at some point in an indeterminate future...
"Better put it in your pocket," Zoro said kindly. "While you still have one."
Kaku nodded again, this time to himself. Okay, screw confusion. Now it was on.
Swords flashed without another word. The strike directed at Zoro's pants - take that! - was parried at the last fraction of a second by a couple of swords; the third one flashed at Kaku's belt, but Kaku turned and ducked, and took a small slice on the ribs instead.
Momentum put fifteen feet between them; they turned and circled. Zoro hefted his swords, studying his adversary, looking for a way into Kaku's multi-weaponed guard. Though Kaku did not miss the way his gaze lingered on bare skin, taking longer going over Kaku's legs than even the risk of Rankyaku justified.
So, that's what was happening here. In an odd way, Kaku was relieved. There'd been something behind his meetings with Roronoa, in the companiable silences, in the way Zoro would start to say something sometimes and cut off and drink sake instead...Kaku's life depended on his ability to read people as well as their sword moves, yet he'd lost himself in more and more elaborate conjunctures of a fiendish plot on Zoro's behalf rather than let himself believe his first spot-analysis: "The guy isn't sure how to make a pass at someone he nearly killed a few months ago and who is technically an enemy."
Now Kaku had a handle on where all this was going. And of course it was a bad direction, one which a responsible CP9 agent would be mad to contemplate, yet Kaku didn't retreat an inch. If he didn't verify his deductions, he might have a hard time trusting his instincts in this matter again, and besides, if Kaku had ever been afraid of going to the end of anything in his life he'd be a totally different person and have a much nicer and considerably more boring job.
As punctuation to that thought, Zoro attacked. Kaku melted into the warm night air ahead of him, darted back, fell like a leaf to the ground while one arm shot up, sure and deadly. Score!
Zoro ploughed to a stop, leaving a ten feet rut carved into the soft soil of the clearing. A crooked smile was directed at the cut in the white shirt, turning red at the edges. He planted his swords, all three of them, and peeled off his top. There was a scar right across his chest; the dancing torch light made it look like a snake writhing over his skin. Zoro tossed his shirt over his shoulder, picked up his swords, placed the white-hilted katana between his teeth, fell into an aggressive posture...then he cleared his throat pointedly. Kaku stopped staring at that wall of scars and muscles and hastily reassembled something resembling a defence.
He concentrated on evasion while trying to get his composure back. Zoro's swords flickered, torch-lit steel darting towards Kaku from all points of the compass at once, however physically impossible that was. Kaku dodged, going low in an effort to save his pants; he was ready to swear the sword he was avoiding smiled at his skittish effort and it was purely of its own volition that it let him escape, laying a strip of skin on his upper arm open in a caress of steel instead. The word 'love bite' jumbled in Kaku's mind along with other, less redeemable thoughts. All this was forcing him to admit that his obsession with Zoro might not have been entirely due to Kaku's defeat at his hands...
Metal chopped the air into thin strips all around him. This was still a game; a game where part of the fun was that either participant could sort-of-accidentally wind up really hurt. Kaku rolled back, heart thudding with alarm, excitement and other wholesome emotions. Steel met and sang and meleed; their swords seemed to be having a bloody good time of it too. The crooked grin on Kaku's face was utterly inappropriate but unless a government lackey with a performance evaluation chart popped up in the next few minutes, it didn't really matter. Zoro, for one, didn't seem to mind.
Another break. The torches hissed and stuttered before daring to try to burn normally again; one of them had gone out, tilted at an odd angle by a Rankyaku near-miss. The two men circled each other. The firelight drew interesting patterns on the bare skin and scars of Zoro's chest.
"You," said Zoro, with his usual ventriloquist act. "You are not as good as Mihawk."
Kaku's eyes narrowed, though he didn't answer, determined not to let the remark - or the small curl of offended anger he felt - distract him.
"But you're the second best I ever met."
...Kaku didn't have a clue how he was supposed to take that.
Zoro dropped his stance, lifted his right hand and took the sword out of his mouth. "You know-"
His unguarded right side triggered Kaku's attack before Kaku's brain had the time to review the plan and okay it. He darted to one side of the clearing before Zoro was halfway through the word 'know', using Soru with intent to circle entirely through the first row of trees - confuse the opponent - and attack on that right flank, the one where Zoro's hand was encumbered with two swords-
"-I like giraffes. Tough animals."
Kaku barely stopped himself before a stumble of amazement sent him ploughing through a tree. He leaned briefly against the hard bark and rolled his eyes towards the night sky. If the direction they were heading got any more obvious it'd be downright embarrassing. The time to stop this was now.
Roronoa's eyes went wide as he caught sight of the two swords hurled at him with deadly accuracy; his weapons flew up in a parry. But Kaku's swords missed him by a foot on either side and landed like javelins into the dirt near his feet, boxing him in. When Zoro looked up, Kaku was right in front of him. Kaku sent fingers sinking into tempting strands of green, pulled Roronoa forward and got their mouths together before any more ridiculous pussyfooting was perpetrated.
An error in momentum - trying to Soru into a kiss wasn't easy without breaking someone's teeth - meant the contact was intense but brief and ended in a stumble. Kaku's cap jabbed Zoro in the forehead before tumbling to the ground. They caught their balance, and Zoro stared at him across four inches of space. For a heart-thudding moment Kaku thought he'd misread the situation, which would be Bad in their present relative positions. But then Zoro got this ruminative look on his face, said, "Yeah, I guess that works too," planted his swords into the ground, grabbed Kaku around the waist and brought them together again just as violently.
It was more a thing of bites and licks than a kiss. It was also the first threatening lurches of a spring that'd been getting wound tighter and tighter for months now. Kaku knew full well at this point that he'd gone stark raving mad, and it was a very liberating conclusion. Covered by a Temporary Insanity Clause, his hands were free to drag over a body like a weapon, all sleek muscle and steel will. Touch everything, hold and grab. Avow and complete what they'd been doing with swords up until now. It was the most singularly exciting sexual experience he'd had until now, and he suspected it'd remain so for, oh, at least the next five minutes...
Sweet grass scent and heat rose around them as they stumbled back and forth like wrestlers vying for a win. Instinct kept them balanced and on their feet despite the owners of said instinct being a little too distracted to care. Finally their legs tangled, instinct threw up its hands in defeat and let gravity win the throw-down. Kaku landed partly on Zoro, the hand that'd been kneading his ass a little too tight for comfort but that just added to the stimulation. And there was all this nice, firm body for him to rub against- yeah, yeah, this'd work-
Then Zoro rolled them over and that solid body was all over his. Kaku was drowning in heat and scents and sensation. An instinctive reluctance of being overwhelmed - even if he was loving it - made him kick his heels into the grass and roll them over again. Too far; a roll and a half and they landed on their side. Kaku felt his spine press into one of the swords Zoro had planted upright into the ground. That was fine, though, side by side was okay, removed the immediate dominance question, and allowed the battle to move to the torrid kiss instead.
I really, really shouldn't be doing this, thought Kaku dreamily as he explored Zoro's mouth with his tongue. The thought wasn't strenuous, coming hand in hand as it did with 'but I'm going to do it anyway'. He'd had all sorts of brief encounters in his duty-delimited life, with enemies, friends, targets...these things happened, and as long as it stayed between the two of them, it'd be fine. With a guy built like that, powerful hands moving down Kaku's back to his hips, it was going to be a lot better than fine. It was going to be really fine.
With a few ominous cracks from stressed seams, they got the rest of their clothes off. "Probably safer-" Kaku said, struggling with getting black cloth over Zoro's boot before giving up and tugging it off first, and Zoro's hands snaking down to caress the skin of his legs, very distracting - "uh, getting our pants off this way than with swords."
"Safer for me, sure."
"My strikes were getting awfully close, weren't they," said Kaku with a fierce grin, grappling with the second boot.
"Yeah, but you were getting distracted. Had me a little concerned."
Kaku twisted against the hand dragging down his leg, and only incidentally removing his tracksuit and boxers, to straighten up and kiss/bite the bloody smirk off the bastard's face. The wrestle rolled them away from the sword and back to where they'd started. Low blows, shoves, bites, grips that gave way to a caress that gave way to a stronger grip...
"Is this what you usually call foreplay?" Kaku asked, breathless, as he tried to keep an arm-lock that sweat made impossibly slippery.
"Yeah. No." Zoro twisted out of the hold and flipped them over, using his greater weight to his advantage.
"Make- make up your mind." Kaku ran his tongue up a pierced ear, the only target in immediate range, and felt a massive shudder run through the body pinning him.
Zoro turned his head to look down at him, eyes unblinking and intent. "Done this before," he said softly. "But not with somebody who can give as good as he gets."
Kaku felt a strange and very un-government-official smile twist his lips; he buried it in a bruising kiss before it compromised him.
The wrestling transmuted as smoothly as it had started into a slow, coiling, rubbing motion. The sweat slicking their bodies made it easy. The kiss pulsed with the same rhythm, slow and hot.
The weight on Kaku shifted. Zoro got up on one knee, only the distance needed to put a bit of space between them without breaking the point where they lapped and stress-tested each other's tongues. Zoro's technique was like his Santoryuu, Kaku found himself thinking, all blunt and way-too-powerful, giving up finesse for strength and expediency in a way that had its own subtle attraction.
Zoro broke the kiss and straightened up. Kaku followed him inch for inch, getting to his knees in a sinuous movement that kept their bodies close together. Zoro went hmmmm, and then said, breath hot and fast against Kaku's lips: "Just a sec. We'll use this. I forgot to bring anything else."
"What?" Kaku said, though truth be told, only a small fraction of his brain was busy trying to decode that. Then there was a crack of a wax seal being broken somewhere to his left, and he looked around in time to see Zoro one-handedly spilling some of the venerable sword oil into his palm.
"Just what do you-" Kaku started to say, in the tone of one who didn't like to improvise lube thankyouverymuch, especially with something that belonged on steel and which would undoubtedly come with a label marked 'not for internal use' if those monks had even conceived of the necessity to add it.
Zoro paused...but by that time he'd already wrapped one big strong hand around both their cocks and Kaku took a second or two to get his train of thought back in the right direction again. He'd not gotten laid for-...once he had a bit more blood in the brain region, he'd be able to calculate it, but the number came in units of months, quite possibly stretching to a year, he knew that much; bloody Water 7 mission and his all-too-squeaky-clean cover story that'd forced him to be all manners of discreet-
Zoro made an interrogative sound. Kaku looked up into straightforward eyes of a man who had no clue what kind of objection Kaku had been about to make. He almost regretted saying anything.
A glance down at where his hand grasped them both, and Zoro frowned. "This okay?"
"Once you start moving, yes," said Kaku with what he thought was wonderful restraint. Barely any hint of strain in his voice at all.
"Can do," said Zoro, smirk audible, and pulled down. Slowly. Then up, palm rough and callused drawing straight lines of pleasure up sensitive skin. Then down again, pressing their erections together, so that Kaku could feel the press of blood-hardened flesh against his own down to the veins. Zoro's grip was strong - of course - but he was deliberately going slow. Kaku was wound up tight already, tighter than he'd expected to be; when (if) he got back to Enies Lobby, he'd see the department shrink about this obsession with swords and fighting and tough bastard swordsmen and how they seemed unhealthily linked to his sex drive. His arms had wrapped around Zoro's shoulders without his say-so, he was shuddering as pleasure ached at being leashed in by that taunting slowness, and he could almost feel the bastard's expression of smug satisfaction hovering somewhere near Kaku's right ear.
Kaku would also see that shrink about the way challenges turned him on, but right now he was going to wipe that expression off Zoro's face.
Kaku slid his hand up Zoro's wrist, but only to get some of the oil spilling down from that hard grip. Then his fingers went exploring, down, caressing curly green hair - he'd had a good look even under torchlight earlier, it was indeed green - to balls that tightened at his touch; Kaku wasn't the only one stretched taut. Zoro breathed out in a 'humf' that surely took his formerly superior expression with it. Kaku mouthed, bit and sucked the corner of the neck and sinewy shoulder temptingly offered while he drew curlicues with his fingers and Zoro rasped in his ear, his hand gripped harder and got down to serious business, teasing dumped by the wayside.
Sensations spread from where Zoro was beating them off, down the sensitive skin of inner thighs, up Kaku's spine, over his stomach, crawling across the abs and the scars Zoro had left there a few months back (no matter...). Zoro's mouth fastened on Kaku's neck near the jaw; the minor pain was on the same frequency as the pleasure. The jungle rustled and writhed around them, full of things hunting and mating; the torches crackled; the warm breeze dragged sweat across their flesh.
Zoro left the bite with a lick and lifted his head. "Did you want to do the other stuff?"
Kaku focused his eyes after a couple of tries. He'd really gone too long without getting laid. What- oh, other stuff.
The way Roronoa said 'other stuff' told Kaku a lot: that Zoro hadn't had all that much prior experience (which, considering that the man's astounding drive was primarily, secondarily and tertiarily focused on swords, wasn't all that surprising); that Zoro had heard about 'the other stuff', probably in bars and dives and in a very negative light; and that Zoro looked unenthused about the 'other stuff', as well he might. Kaku felt an urge to tell him how fun the 'other stuff' could be, if done correctly. Kaku wasn't all that passionate about anal sex, top or bottom, it just wasn't his favourite, but giving head, on the other hand...if Zoro hadn't just slathered them with an unidentified substance, Kaku would have taken upon himself to make a new convert. But with those two 'other stuff' out of the way, handjobs seemed to be the order of the day. Or...
Kaku touched Zoro's wrist to get him to slacken his grip, leaned over and scooped up the- well, it was lube for tonight. Burying his inner swordsman's mutter of 'what a waste of good sword oil', he dumped a liquid ounce into his palm. Zoro frowned - the same regretful comment undoubtedly going through his head - but he said nothing and did not even look concerned at what might be the appearance of the dreaded 'other stuff'. There was some ballsy kind of trust here, which boggled Kaku (and lessened the evil pleasure of a feeling of superiority at being, for once, the one in control and with greater skills and knowledge, which was a pity because with Roronoa this did not happen often). Questions pooled in his mind like the lube: just what kind of experience did Zoro have, with whom, and had they also been enemies...?
He could get inquisitive or he could get laid. An easy choice to make right now. Kaku smeared the lube onto his inner thighs, tingles running ahead as he stroked higher up. Zoro had leaned back, riveted by the spectacle. There was a flush of colour on his cheeks, on his lips, and a look on his eye that shared some characteristics with his earlier concentration. If Kaku had been anybody else, he'd have found it unnerving to be the focus of that kind of intensity, but since he wasn't anybody but himself, he could feel that pulse of excitement beat faster than ever. He reached out for Zoro's cock with the lubed hand, adding to the oiliness as he got to his knees. Zoro followed the silent prompt and did the same until they were kneeling face to face, only inches apart.
Kaku tilted his head, licked Zoro's lower lip- and finally got a reaction out of stoic Mr. East Blue Demon when he closed the heat and pressure of his thighs over Zoro's cock. Zoro made an odd hitched gasp and clutched at Kaku's hips as if the ground had suddenly moved. That was a nice reaction. A very nice reaction. Kaku could feel Zoro's cock between his legs, and an excitement greater than a jaded agent should feel at the sensation and the way the other man gripped his waist.
A hand on Zoro's ass got him moving. It didn't take much encouragement. Kaku kept his hand where it was, fascinated by the play of muscles as Zoro pushed in, flexed out; his head dropped onto Kaku's shoulder with a non-noise that felt more than sounded like clenched teeth in Kaku's ear. Kaku was panting, and he wasn't even getting any directly; just undirected friction from where Zoro's skin brushed his cock, and the erotic slide in and out, rippling movement that, depending on the angle of Zoro's thrust, brushed his sac, his perineum, or tingled near skin that belonged to 'other stuff', as Zoro would say.
Zoro gripped harder. Kaku knew he'd have finger marks all over his hips and it made him shiver and grab Zoro's ass to return the favour. He could feel the man's breath cascade down his back with each release of breath and gasp of pleasure as he concentrated on fucking him; Kaku let his free hand trail over the strong neck, now bowed, brushed by a feeling of power that had little to do with the automatic 'I could severe his spinal cord right now and he'd be too busy to stop me' which was just a professional reflex kicking in uninvited.
Sweat trickled where their bodies joined, dripped into the hot and humid jungle grass. The torches spluttered and flared in an arena of fire around them and shone of their five swords, planted at angles all around them to form a warrior's bower. It never even occurred to Kaku at that moment (or, indeed, not for a few days until a particularly vivid recollection of this moment in a bit of private time in his cabin) that anybody could have stumbled into that clearing in the jungle. At that point, they could have been alone on the whole Grand Line.
Strength clashed, bodies pushed together. Zoro was blunt force, Kaku was a rampart. Hard, opposed movement; haphazard push and shove and give and take, yet remaining in balance with condescending ease. And damn, this was just as much fun - and considerably more pleasurable - than the earlier fighting, and for many of the same reasons. Zoro was pounding into him with a relentless, awing force; Kaku was at once thankful he'd not suggested anal sex, and almost a little regretful. Would it be painful? Oh definitely. But would the ride be worth it? Maybe that's what had been missing those previous times he'd- hmmmohyeah- "Like that," he hissed, as Zoro's glans ran a line from his balls all the way to the delicate crinkle of skin and highly sensitized nerves there.
Zoro got it again on the second try; his first thrust had been offset by a ripple of muscles in Kaku's thighs, muscles that were strong enough and positioned in such a way that emasculation was a distinct possibility, as Kaku had to remind himself. Had to be careful. He was without doubt a merciless assassin, a devious infiltrator and an enemy of pirates everywhere, but that'd be rude. And a waste.
Zoro made a gasping noise and his sudden grip around Kaku's ribs would have snapped bones in another man. It was a powerful feeling to have that man break and grasp him like a life-raft. Kaku breathed in and out, tasting each moment, the smell of sweat, the heat, the panting, the tremble in Zoro's frame, the trickle down his inner thighs.
The powerful shoulders shuddered once. Zoro took three deep breaths, ending in a pleased sound like a contented tiger voicing its appreciation. Then he said the words that Kaku was longing to hear. "Your turn."
Right on. Kaku put a hand on Zoro's shoulder and shoved him back. Zoro fell down with a startled grunt; ahhh, the wonders of orgasm when it came to relaxing steel bodies and stilling reflexes. There was a scowl on Zoro's face, not sure where this was going. Kaku's gaze drifted from it down the body laid out beneath him. He picked up Roronoa's hand without looking away from the rest of the glorious picture, pressed fingers against his cock and prompted them to finish what they'd started.
Insects chirruped, sounding terribly mundane after all that. At least the mosquitoes had decided these were two bodies that might be too dangerous to bite and were leaving well enough alone. The breeze had fallen; what was left of it carried the faint scent of an eventual dawn. Kaku brushed a crushed piece of grass off his shoulder, a monumental effort. At his side, Zoro rubbed his nose and yawned noisily. Various fluids were trying to dry in the moist air, with mitigated success, and Kaku wondered who he'd have to intimidate aboard the Marines frigate to get a bath drawn without too much fuss or questions asked about his dishevelled appearance and the state of his clothes.
"That thing you did. Or that I did, rather. What's that called?" Zoro asked.
"Depends which island you visit," Kaku answered, most of his concentration on the afterglow.
"Was fun."
"Hm."
"You can do it next time."
"Hm." Sounded good, though there were other fun things to try too, and Zoro would at some point become acquainted with the infinite wonders of having someone's tongue wrapped around his-
'Wait a minute,' said Kaku's sense of duty. 'Next time? One night stand, remember? Pirate, enemy, kill him without hesitation. All that.'
He could get the termination order tomorrow...and at that point one of them (and it was unfortunately not a certainty it would be Zoro) would not see the sun rise again. But that would happen when it happened, if it happened. The world was changing. So was Kaku. This thought had filled him with fear up till now - transmuted into brooding and a waspish irritation, until the Marines walked around him on tiptoes - but at this point, the mix of endorphins and release were easing him into another point of view. When his government was busy shifting around all the ground on which Kaku had always relied on, the only philosophy one could cling to was 'Live In The Now', with a corollary of 'Get Laid By This Awesome Guy As Often As Circumstances Permit'. Anything else would be a waste of a good obsession.
So much for temporary insanity, Kaku told himself, and then turned towards Roronoa. "How about you?" he asked (for some reason, it didn't occur to him that Zoro hadn't followed his train of thought). "You likely to get into trouble over this?"
"Why?"
"Let me see, just where do I start. Sleeping with the enemy is one good reason. Did you even tell them there was a CP9 assassin on board the Marines frigate and that you regularly met up to have drinks with him?"
"Nah."
"That'd be another one."
"You really don't know much about my crew, do you."
"We met only briefly and we never had much opportunity to exchange deeply meaningful words about life, death and sex with the opposition."
"Trust me, they don't care. How about your side?"
"They'd care a great deal, assuming there's still someone at Mariejoie who knows who I am and can find what the new rule book says about fraternization. I think we'd better be discreet."
"Works for me."
No questions on Zoro's part, no blandishments, no attempts to rally Kaku to Luffy's cause. Kaku wasn't even surprised. Damn Straw Hats. Always refusing to be as bad as pirates should be, straying into grey zones where bad guys weren't so bad. Screwing around with CP9 agents who were already in the grey zone where good guys weren't so good, if one didn't believe in assassination as a political expedient...Why did Kaku have the worrying notion that they'd just met in the middle...?
Kaku curled up in the warmth by Zoro's side to fend off the shiver of cooler air that pre-dawn was blowing into the sea and decided to think about it all later.
"Of course he's lost," Sanji said, one foot on the gunwale already. "Fret not, Nami-swaaan! I'll find him and bring him back before the tide turns."
"Thanks, Sanji-kun- Oh no, wait, there he is. Zoro! Get your butt over here, we're sailing-...what on earth happened to you?!"
That drew all the Straw Hats to the starboard side of the Sunny to watch in amazement as their first mate (guided by one of the island's kindly inhabitants) made his way along the dock and leapt aboard. Zoro ignored their stares and their questions, acting supremely unconcerned about the cuts, bloodstained clothes and other signs of a struggle scattered over the bits of his body that were visible, which were way too many since he was carrying all but his pants in a bundle beneath his arm.
"I'm here," he announced, perfectly unnecessarily. "We sailing yet? When's breakfast?"
"Breakfast will be after we get out of this atoll on the tide," Nami said, recovering (though she gave Zoro's bare chest a discreet third and fourth glance as she made her way to the wheel, probably, Sanji decided, because the sight of all that bloodied marimo was appalling her more refined senses).
The rest of the crew wandered off to their respective positions: Robin was already on the foredeck, she'd done nothing but smile slightly as Zoro had come aboard; Chopper, Usopp and Franky tackled the sails, Sanji turned the capstan with a couple of shoving kicks because only a weak loser would need help winching up an anchor, Luffy was on the figurehead and the dumbass swordsman was glancing around for the best spot to nap, of course. But his eyes met Sanji's and he seemed to remember something.
"Hey, love-cook."
"What?"
"You're not as dumb as you look. At least you give good advice."
"Wha? Advice? What are you-" Sanji's cigarette fell numbly from his mouth and he barely remembered to block the capstan's backward rotation with his foot before the anchor became reacquainted with the seabed. "No. Don't tell me...You got laid?"
"Yup."
"...and then what, the husband came in?"
But Zoro was already halfway up the deck. "Hey, Luffy! Where we going now?"
"I don't know!" Luffy shouted back from the figurehead with a delighted laugh. "Straight ahead, I guess!"
"Good enough. Make sure we don't lose those Marines back there, okay?"
"Oh, we won't! They've been following us for so long, they're buddies now. Hey guys!" Luffy shouted, waving a twenty-foot long arm at the vessel that was too far for hailing anyway, "We're on our way! See you when we get there!"
And the Sunny pulled away and sailed straight ahead, which was bound to be an interesting, if somewhat complicated, direction.
END
I'm surprised there's not more yaoi smut fics featuring intercrural sex; I've heard it described as the 'gay man's missionary position' and in some regions of the world it's apparently even more popular than oral sex and way more popular than anal, yet nary a fic with it out there.
Title: Sword Oil
Rating: NC17
Pairing: ZoroxKaku
Warning: Some spoilers for Water 7 and Enies Lobby. Also, something of a PWP and light on characterisation.
Written for that gimme-a-smut-prompt challenge awhile back, specifically
chibi_trillian's prompt of ZoroxKaku and Sword Oil. This was 95% written for ages, but then life happened, a lot. Like the previous challenge fics, this isn't all that polished, and hey, it's at heart a PWP. But since my pr0n bunny are wusses that get beaten up by my story bunnies, it's 10000+ words and most of it isn't smut ^^; (Unless swordplay counts as smut which, seeing who's involved...)Disclaimer: I very much do not own OP
Sword Oil
Sanji was shaping the cookie dough into little hearts on the baking tray when Zoro sidled up to him. Not that anybody else would have called it sidling, since Zoro marched up with his usual Badass Swordsman's swagger, but when it involved Zoro not going straight to the booze and instead hanging around Sanji watching the latter bake cookies, it counted as sidling.
"What do you want, moron?" asked Sanji encouragingly.
"Got a question." Zoro had the expression of a man chewing over a piece of fish, looking for bones.
"Not until eight."
"...Huh?"
"Dinner."
From the look on Zoro's face, it wasn't about dinner.
"Look, love-cook, we all know you're a skirt-chasing pervert, but I've only ever seen you strike out since we've met. Have you actually ever had any luck?"
"Fine," said Zoro, getting his breath back after a short but quite intense fight which left cookie dough on the ceiling and a foot-shaped bruise on Zoro's solar plexus. "I'll just get to the point."
"Yeah, you should," Sanji snarled, scraping the dough off and dropping it on the tray. He'd give that one to Luffy.
"I'm trying to..."
Sanji forgot about being cross with the lump of seaweed, forgot even about cookies, his spatula hovering mid-air; he'd heard Zoro say a lot of really dumb things in the time they'd sailed together, but he'd never heard the man hesitate before saying them.
Zoro gave him a disgruntled look which he then turned on the perfectly innocent cookies. "I guess what I'm saying is, you've chatted up a lot of girls. How do you do it? How do you let someone know you're interested, and...connect? In that way?"
Sanji's jaw sagged and gently thudded against the floured countertop.
"It should be easy," Zoro said, now talking to himself. "It's just a matter of saying it. And I tried, but every time I open my mouth, the words about to come out sound wrong. And I'm damn sure I will only have one shot at this. I can't fuck it up. But from the really idiotic look on your face right now, you're going to be no help, so forget I asked." Zoro turned towards the door, but jerked to a halt as Sanji materialized before him, hands on Zoro's shoulders.
"Marimo..." Sanji took a deep breath. "We fight a lot and for the record I think you're an idiot too, but this is one area where men have to stick together."
"Huh?"
"But there are conventions to respect."
Four minutes later, the galley door was locked with a sign tacked on it saying 'Dinner at eight' and a large ham joint hanging from the knob to keep Luffy at bay. Zoro, looking more and more confused, was sitting at the table opposite Sanji, a bottle of good sake and two glasses between them.
"Is all this really necessary?"
"It's tradition," said Sanji, pouring. "Okay, who is she? No! No, don't tell me," he added, as Zoro opened his mouth. "A gentleman shouldn't mention a lady's name in this context, it's crass, and besides, if you tell me, I'll feel obliged to go and charm her myself and save her from a rather frightening date with you. So, don't give me any details, just shut up and listen."
Zoro breathed out through his nose, picked up his glass, swallowed the entire contents in one shot and reached for the bottle with the air of one who is going to need a lot of alcohol if bloodshed was to be avoided.
"I will talk in generalities," said Sanji, pontificating with his cigarette. "First off, is she nearby?"
Zoro swallowed his next glass of sake, seemed to consider the question and then shrugged. "Yeah."
"Good, this will be hard enough in person, I'd hate to see you try to charm anyone via a love letter. Is she hot?" That wasn't part of the strategy lesson, it just slipped out on the tail of Sanji's curiosity.
Zoro didn't answer, but a look stole over his face as he stared dreamily over Sanji's shoulder. It was a startling mix of affectionate and lewd. Sanji took that for a 'hell yeah' and shot back his own glass to get over a sudden case of the heebie-jeebies. Zoro had always been aggressively uninterested in the beauties aboard their ship or any who crossed their path, it was an odd sensation to see him finally fall to the same fate as every man.
"Never mind, marimo, let's skip to the important stuff. Do you have anything in common?"
"Yeah," Zoro answered with absolutely no hesitation. "Swords."
Sanji hid a sudden smirk with a pull of his cigarette. "Really? Interesting. Is this person, perhaps, not a pirate? Maybe even, one could say, a member of the opposition?"
Zoro gave him a narrow-eyed scrutiny. "Why do you ask, cook?"
"Oh, no reason, no reason. It doesn't matter anyway, right? Love conquers all borders and bridges the political divide." He'd had strong suspicions ever since Zoro had phrased the question, but now it was a certainty. It was that pretty, slightly dorky Marines officer, the one with the glasses and a yen for Zoro's - haha - Zoro's swords. The only woman who could make the mighty Roronoa Zoro squeamish. This would be good blackmail material later on, but for now Sanji felt obligated to help his nakama to his goal.
"If you've got something in common, you're halfway there, marimo. It gives you a way to relate, something you're comfortable with. But you have to be more than comfortable. You have to be an expert. Yeah, stop giving me that look, I'm well aware you know a lot about those overgrown knives you carry around, but you have to make her feel that. You have to be smooth. You have to awe her. Win her. This is a battle, marimo! A battle of love!"
Under Zoro's unblinking gaze, Sanji put his fist back down on the table and blinked away the hearts from his eyes. "Only not literally a battle," he added, remembering who he was talking to. "It's more like a game."
"A game?" Zoro grumbled, not looking enthused. "I don't play stupid games."
"It's about time you started, idiot. Games mean you're playful, that you appreciate her wit and abilities; that you even accept the fact she might win. It means you're approachable, rather than a sword-wielding natural disaster who knocks down everything in his path. After all, what kind of interaction can two people have? You have two modes, seaweed, fighting and talking, and that will get you an enemy or a friend, but not a lover."
That earned him a thoughtful look. "That actually makes sense."
"Well don't sound so surprised. Now, while you're playing footsie, don't forget to flatter her. You have to make her feel valued, respected, or she'll think you're only after one thing. Sing her praises, lavish her with gifts, call her pet-names-" Zoro choked on his sake. "Okay, perhaps not, it wouldn't sound natural coming from you."
"Yeah. And if you're telling me to bellow Mellorine-"
"Don't you dare, that's my act."
"You can keep it."
Sanji shook his head. When the master points at the moon, the foolish disciple looks at the finger. "Moving on. Finally, if you've done everything and she's not run away screaming from you yet, you just need to lean in and kiss her. If she kisses back, she's yours."
"If she sends you flying with a right hook, she's Nami after you offered to fish a fallen peanut out of her cleavage."
"If she protests," Sanji corrected coldly, "then she's not interested. Now, if she shows abominable bad taste in men and decides to let you proceed ...do we have to have this talk?"
"Huh? Ugh, no, asshat, I know the next bit."
"You do?" Sanji looked at him curiously (and with some relief). "How did you get this far before if you don't even know step one?"
Zoro shrugged. "I don't know. It just happened. It was just a friends thing, we didn't need all this talking and awing and dancing around."
"Ah yes," said Sanji, with a wise inhale of smoke. Camaraderie was a way in if the girl felt sorry for you, and in Zoro's case, she'd have good cause.
"We'd share a friendly drink - a lot of friendly drinks - and then the three of us would end up in bed without having to-" and then Zoro had to lean sideways to dodge the cigarette Sanji coughed clear across the table.
"Three?!"
"Yeah."
"Oh," croaked Sanji. Had this- this mere beginner somehow stumbled upon the holy grail which Sanji had always dreamed of (repeatedly and wetly)? What a god-awful revelation. Sanji had always known life was unfair, but apparently it had chosen to kick sand in his face to boot.
"This...this didn't happen on this ship...right?" The last came out pleadingly as Sanji's world tipped slowly towards an abyss of horror the likes of which-
"Nah, love-cook, it was a few months before I met Luffy. I was-"
"I don't need the details," Sanji growled, fishing out another cigarette with shaking hands. "You got the basics, now get out of here."
Zoro stood up and headed to the door with a martial rhythm to his step. Sanji had known the cretin long enough now to guess Zoro was rehearsing steps in his head like it was a new sword move. Common interests, impress and awe, play games, gifts, praise, kiss, get lucky. Yeah, that'd work.
Sanji looked at the closed door, lifted his glass in a toast to the fair sex and muttered, "He's going to crash and burn sooooo badly...oh well, I hope she's not too cruel when she rejects him." Then he drank another toast to Zoro, just for luck, and went to make dinner.
The night air had cooled down to a most pleasant temperature, and the summer island's happy natives had all gone to bed while a mild breeze blew in from the sea. The natives were happy because they lived on a paradisiacal island, because their only cause for concern had been a cruel tyrant abruptly and painfully removed from his post by pirates, and because they weren't at the beck and call of an idiot like Spandam. Not that they were aware of that last cause for bliss. Kaku envied them horribly.
"'It will be a dangerous mission, Kaku'," he muttered to himself, parroting the words of a pompous ape in a mask. "'It needs someone with a cool head and a lot of strength'. Yes, then why didn't you give it to Lucci? Oh right, because if you'd suggested Lucci waste his time babysitting a bunch of Marines trailing the Straw Hats like nincompoops, he'd have ripped your head off, that's why."
The mission had sounded considerably more exciting and risky on paper. Spy on the destroyers of Enies Lobby, find out their itinerary, keep Central HQ informed so that a clever trap involving a couple of armadas could be set up. Spandam had even had the nerve to tell Kaku it wouldn't take long. Right. The bastard had already known about the growing mess in Mariejoie, the government negotiating with the New World revolutionaries, the political scene shifting like a layer of clay in a landslide. Kaku had been following the Thousand Sunny for four whole months, and he and the Marines had not actually received any orders at all for the past three. Kaku was getting a little worried about that. It added to his irritation.
He trudged through the underbrush without any appreciation for the paradisiacal island. He didn't actually like paradisiacal islands. They were too sunny, too cheerful, too relaxing, too full of happy idiots, and too warm when one chose to dress in a tracksuit from toe to chin and lug two swords around. Not that he could actually do anything with his swords; Spandam had strictly ordered him not to attack the enemy until Kaku received confirmation to do so.
It was the inaction that was hard to bear, Kaku told himself; the only thing remotely exciting to happen in the last four months was to keep his escort of Marines from getting eaten by a host of interesting Grand Line critters. Deep inside, though, he knew that what was really getting to him was the fact that wherever he and his Marines landed at a prudent distance from the Straw Hats, all they could see were happy people praising the wonderful pirates who'd helped get rid of this, that or the other problem. It was...disturbing.
...Kaku wondered if he was losing the plot a little...He wondered if he would ever be given the order to go after the Straw Hats with lethal intent and how he would feel about that...He wondered why he hadn't heard any news from Spandam or anybody in three months, he wondered why an island could be called paradisiacal when it contained this many mosquitoes, and he wondered what Zoro was doing and if he was waiting for Kaku somewhere.
If Kaku could wind back his thoughts and edit some out, that last would have been left on the cutting room floor. Unfortunately, he could not. Just one more reason for aggravation. His supposed secret mission had remained secret for all of one month. A month of watching Luffy and co beat up tyrants, monsters, slavers and the lot, a month of discreetly anchoring the Navy frigate in smuggler's coves and creeping around like a spy...After weeks of that kind of sneakiness, it'd been excruciatingly embarrassing to have Zoro sit down opposite him in a daub-and-wattle inn and ask him if he wanted any sake.
"Aren't you training today?" were the only stunned words that had come out of Kaku's mouth. He knew that Zoro trained on a daily basis, he kept a particularly close eye on Roronoa because he needed to know his main opponent's weaknesses and strengths, and on a good day Kaku could actually buy that excuse and run with it.
Zoro - not four feet away from him - had shrugged and given the freezing rain outside a meaningful glance. "The locals say it'll stop soon. I'll wait. I've already done my cold resistance training this week."
"That's why you were swimming in that iceflow lake-" at this juncture, Kaku's left foot had stepped heavily onto his right foot in an attempt to shut him up.
"Yeah. I'm going to have it warm."
"...What?"
"The sake. You?"
"I'm drinking tea."
"Okay. Hey, do you guys have any beer?"
"...Us guys?" Kaku had said carefully. And then, before he could help himself, "Beer...?"
"You're with that Navy ship that's been following us since we left fishman island, right? Do you guys have any beer? We're out, and the only stuff they have on this island is made from rice, like everything else they got here. Rice beer isn't the real thing. We can swap some dinosaur for it, we've got too much as it is. But maybe you guys got some too."
On their before-last landfall, Kaku had indeed been forced to cut up an impressive number of dinosaurs twice his size to save some Marines from becoming lunch. It hadn't occurred to him to return the favour by making the critters into lunch in turn.
"I don't think dinosaur is part of the approved Marines menu," he'd said, finally getting his groove back.
"Really? 'Cause our cook can do stuff with barbeque sauce that-"
They'd talked about food, drink, nutritional balance before and after battle, and eventually Kaku had had some of the sake. It'd tasted pretty bad, though not as bad as the dose of embarrassment he'd already swallowed.
He'd sent a coded message to Spandam to inform him his cover was blown, what there'd been of it. But he never got anything back. Neither had the Marines. So they'd sailed on, following their last orders like automatons, sending in regular reports with the Straw Hats' itinerary, the islands the pirates had visited, the bad guys they'd destroyed and the messes they'd caused or fixed. Discretion was no longer a priority, though the nervous Marines could not be persuaded to get nearer than two nautical miles of the Sunny. Kaku still kept up a modicum of circumspection in regards to the island inhabitants when he questioned them about Luffy and co (and then cut short their paeans of praise re same), but it was a fact - a fact he carefully omitted from the reports he still sent in - that he and Roronoa ran into each other on a semi-regular basis. There didn't seem to be any point in avoiding him: the man knew Kaku was here, he knew they were enemies but temporarily in a holding pattern, and he was pleasant to drink with since he did not talk too much and what he said was usually about swordplay and other interesting topics. Kaku was even developing a taste for sake, beer and grog.
So where was the infuriating Enemy of the State tonight? All the other Straw Hats were down in the village, getting drunk and enjoying the victory celebration (it was testimony to how long Kaku had been on this mission that he did not think of this as a superb occasion for assassination going down the drain), but he'd spotted Zoro slipping away from the party with a long bundle under his arm. It was the slipping away that intrigued him; as far as Kaku could discern, Zoro did not know the meaning of the word surreptitious. Yet tonight he'd acted like he didn't want any of his nakama with him. The only one who'd noticed his departure was the cook, who'd toasted Zoro from afar with a heart-shaped cookie and shouted, "Hey, good luck, dumbass!" A properly paranoid CP9 agent could only assume Zoro was up to no good, might even be creeping away on a mission to sabotage the Marines ship, for instance. Kaku was duty bound to check it out.
Unfortunately a gaggle of inebriated islanders had forced him to detour from Zoro's path into the forest, and now Zoro was undoubtedly lost, and Kaku with him. Irritation was breaking through Kaku's discipline, a slow boiling frustration...he didn't know what he was doing here, he didn't know what was happening to the world, why the Straw Hats refused to behave like real pirates, the rape-burn-pillage kind...and the longer his search lasted, the more he had to wonder what Zoro might be doing - and who he might be doing it with - to the point where he was soon going to have to admit to himself that he wasn't out here to follow the call of duty so much as chase the beckoning of curiosity.
Light flared up ahead, sudden and startling. All the jungle birds, critters and eerie things that went 'whooooop' abruptly shut up to give the illumination their full attention, and so did Kaku.
Zoro was standing in a jungle clearing, at the center of a large open space delineated by five man-sized torches stuck into the ground. He had all three of his swords drawn, a stance that spoke of spring traps and other deadly things. Kaku made like a ghost, approached in utter silence and hunkered down in a rhododendron.
He knew damn well he'd not made any noise, yet as soon as he was in position, Roronoa moved. The swords in his hands shot up, a slice of silver and reflected fire, and darted into a scissor swipe above his head, steel barely caressing steel in a move that would require split second timing and control. Then the weapons leapt to his side as he brought his arms apart and took one menacing step forward (Kaku was to one side of the clearing and glad of it). With a sweep the blades joined together like the beaks of crazy attack cranes, up near Zoro's head, and darted forward in a scything motion that would have ventilated any enemy dumb enough to stay standing before them.
Kaku stared, not even feeling the rhododendron leaf poking him in the back of the head. He'd seen Zoro do all sorts of training exercises, from the banal to some which would have qualified him as funny farm material even by CP9 and Rokushiki standards. But he'd never seen the pirate do this before. It was...Kaku wasn't sure what it was, except it was a bit like a succession of formal kata from a school whose master had gone stark raving mad halfway through; or possibly a ferocious war dance. It looked pretty cracked, Kaku told himself firmly, trying to keep his palms from itching and edging towards his own swords strapped to his back. A tiny part of him was whining and scratching at the gate, insisting this looked like a lot of fun...But he held it in check. Hanging out with Zoro in bars and inns- that is, collecting information by cleverly interrogating the enemy while hanging out with him in bars and inns was one thing, but if he stepped into that ring of fire, god only knew where it'd end up.
In the clearing, the movement accelerated. Zoro spun, swords swiping out sideways in a complex circular motion that carved out after-images of a deadly silver mandala. He dodged an invisible blow by bending back and low on one knee, then used the stance to pitch his weight forward and swipe upwards with his three swords in a move that would have made thin slices out of his imaginary opponent. Kaku, mouth as dry as a bleached skull, watched, entirely captivated. The man and his swords were one. He must know every inch of them like he knew his own arms and legs...Lucci had made occasional snide noises about Kaku's swords, and the pointlessness of involving alien bits of metal instead of relying on one's body directly. Kaku had tried to explain his choice of weapons without much success. The explanation he'd been grasping for was right in front of him now in dazzling deadly flashes gutting the air, steel as sensual as flesh, and Kaku wished he could parcel this moment up and send it to Lucci via courier bird with a note saying, "Get it now?"
And then it stopped.
The cessation of movement sent the torch fire roaring and flickering before they abated. In the silence, a particularly stupid insect went 'chirp?' and then shut it. Kaku only realized he'd stopped breathing when his lungs sent him a memo about oxygen, but with an addendum that they could wait a couple more minutes if necessary rather than get perforated by steel; the silence and the stillness was like a drawn sword, an object that could be either beautiful or deadly, hinging on the next move it would make.
Then Zoro lifted his head as if listening for something.
Kaku put his lungs on further hold, hunkered down and thought rhododendron thoughts. It didn't help. Zoro turned on himself until he was partially facing the bush, and one sword lifted and pointed at it like a finger.
Options now reduced to one, Kaku stood up and boldly walked into the clearing. Zoro did not seem in any way surprised or angry to see him, though the sword stayed pointed in Kaku's direction. Oddly enough, Kaku did not feel threatened. He had the feeling, rather, that something was now expected of him. Was he supposed to put on a display? The thought made him feel oddly self-conscious.
His swords were in his hands; he couldn't remember drawing them. He looked down their unadorned length, fire dancing on the edges; undecorated, unnamed, deadly anyway, just like him. Not many men could understand his fascination for these weapons, and he was facing one of them now. When he glanced up, he caught Zoro looking up from the two swords too, and their gazes met with the clash of a conversation that didn't need verbiage.
Zoro hefted his blades and grinned around the white hilt, but there wasn't much cause for alarm since Zoro wasn't wearing his bandana (Kaku steadfastly ignored the rationale of weighing three drawn swords against a clothing accessory as a way of judging a threat).
Then Zoro attacked, just like that, without a word or a warning- but his move was a little too slow and plainly telegraphed, in no way what this man was truly capable of.
Does he want to spar with me? Kaku wondered, mind a morass of perplexity and hypotheses. His swords, his sharper half, had shot up to parry.
Metal met with that particular chang that always set a swordsman's heart thumping. Kaku let the strike slide against his blades, turning on himself and aiming a kick at the man holding the weapons, as automatic a response as breathing out after breathing in. It was so instinctive that he'd not thought to lessen the viciousness of the blow. But Roronoa twisted and bent back, Kaku's foot thudded against the third sword's steel, and Kaku could swear he heard an appreciative snicker from behind the sword's hilt.
Kaku shoved away with his foot and spun around, swords swinging back low ready for a thrust. This time, he forced himself to slow down. He was in no way, shape or form attacking Zoro. Not for real. Spandam had made it very clear Kaku wasn't to do that. The director would probably not approve of this either, but it wasn't actually attacking, not as such, it was clear to both fighters that this was just a game, a spat of sparring. Kaku had been around Lucci long enough to know that orders were elastic and could be stretched to suit one's lust for battle.
Zoro didn't fall back, he was right in Kaku's face again. The bastard was fast, deadly and amazingly inventive with his Three Sword Style, and Kaku almost wished they were fighting for real to go to the end of this rush; almost, that is, within the limitation of not having an out and out death wish.
Weapons clashed again- but that blasted third sword darted past Kaku's guard and nicked his sleeve near the shoulder. It felt like a nick...yet when Kaku moved back, his sleeve fell off and gathered around his forearm and wrist like a stole. A tiny trickle of blood ran down his forearm from a corresponding slice circling his biceps, but that was inconsequential, Kaku barely noticed it, braced as he was for a follow-through.
Which never materialized. Zoro had stepped back and seemed to be waiting, swords swept down to brush the beaten grass of the clearing. He was apparently not going to take advantage of a potential distraction. Kaku shook the sleeve from his hand, then unzipped and shrugged off his top while making sure to keep one weapon at hand at all times just in case. Zoro did not move an inch until Kaku was ready again.
This time Kaku went on the attack. Lunge- Rankyaku! Zoro dived and rolled; the whistle of air shot over his head and broke a branch in the jungle beyond. He got to his feet instantly and spun around to parry as Kaku came at him from behind with Soru. Kaku did a cartwheel over their joined swords and jabbed downwards at the same time; since this was not a lethal match, he didn't try to skewer his opponent's kidney, but he didn't pull the strike much either; it sliced that green sash around Zoro's waist. Kaku landed back on his feet. His swords swung up into guarde with a sensual ripping sound that sliced the wind to ribbons; the night breeze played against his bare arms and the bead of sweat running down his back beneath the t-shirt. Kaku focused on his adversary, trying to deny to himself that he was having something perilously close to fun.
The slice was negligible, a cut against the green stripes, a bit of blood...Kaku was ready for a riposte, but instead Zoro stopped, planted his swords in the ground and undid the belt, even though it had not been in any danger of falling and snagging his legs. Kaku stood there, swords twitching at every one of Roronoa's movements, trying to get with the plot and having the feeling he was off track.
Zoro tossed the belt aside, picked up his swords and adopted an attack stance Kaku wasn't familiar with. But it looked dangerous. And thrilling, two terms which were getting dangerously close to interchangeable.
A staring match followed, the preparation for further violence. Kaku weighed his opponent; raw power, unsubtle in the way of tidal waves and forest fires and other natural disasters of magnitude. Kaku had thought back on their duel at Enies Lobby when he'd had the time, which was to say, he'd thought about it constantly while laid up in hospital, while sailing off on this mission, while stalking- that is, observing Roronoa and-...oh, who was he kidding. He could lie to others, but lying to oneself was counterproductive and risky for a secret agent, who could be a little too good at it. The swordsman obsessed him. There were people who could beat Kaku - Lucci came instantly to mind - but there was something more about Zoro that he couldn't define. Maybe it was because they saw eye to eye on a lot of things; Kaku had confirmed it in many a bar these past three months, but they'd known the score the moments their swords met on Enies Lobby, even as they fought and argued and insulted each other.
Talking of which, cracks about giraffes had been conspicuously absent- whoa!
An attack like a thresher gone wild forced Kaku to leap back almost to the tree-line. He darted forward, to the side, trying to break that deadly momentum. Dodge, weave, strike! Damn. Missed. A clear sharp ache in his side told him that Zoro for his part hadn't missed at all.
They broke apart, acknowledging the hit. Kaku dug his heels into the springy grass. If this match was being gauged on points, he was now behind again, but not for long. He lowered one sword, raised the other, a pincer-like stance with an attack wound up behind it that he'd been working on with Zoro specifically in mind, all those long boring days spent on board the frigate.
But Zoro wasn't responding to the implicit threat; he was just standing there, looking at Kaku. To be specific, he was looking at the slice in Kaku's t-shirt with an intensity that was going to burn further holes in the black material. As if he was waiting for something, expected something.
The pieces of the puzzle jumbled together and fell into a picture at the limit of the absurd. The far limit. Yet it made an odd sense, which told Kaku more than anything else that he'd been on this mission too long.
Kaku opened and closed his mouth a few times, stance forgotten, as he tried to formulate his suspicion.
"Zo- Roronoa...just...elucidate something for me. Is this your idea of a game?"
Behind the white hilt, Zoro's lips twitched up into a wolfish one-sided smile. "We can fight for real if you'd rather do that. Which do you want?"
Kaku knew the answer to that at least, but..."Are we really playing strip fencing?"
Zoro's eyes were thin slits of reflected firelight. "That's the idea," he said, speaking around his sword in a perfectly normal voice as if this was the perfectly normal suggestion of a perfectly normal mind.
Kaku nodded. Then again. He stopped himself from doing it a third time and looking like a stunned stork. "Okay, as long as that's understood," he said, planting his swords into the jungle floor and gripping the edge of his t-shirt.
The sword-filled grin this earned him did funny things to his stomach. Kaku, who'd thought his insides were impervious after half a lifetime of being the government's secret attack dog, wondered if he was getting a little out of his depth...
He crouched into an attack stance as soon as the shirt fluttered to the ground, but Zoro had leaned one sword against his legs and bent to fish around in the folds of the belt he'd discarded earlier. "Here, before I forget. I brought something for you."
That made about as much sense as the rest of the evening, then. "Oh?" was all Kaku ventured to say.
"Thought it might come in handy," Zoro said, tossing a hand-sized flask at Kaku across the length of the clearing. Kaku caught it and glanced at the label. It was sword oil, a very expensive variety judging by the beautiful wax seal on the cork, the thickness of the bottle and the calligraphy of the label which suggested it was made by monks squirreled away in a mountain monastery somewhere.
"...Thanks..." for helping me maintain the weapons which I was sort of hoping to stick into you at some point in an indeterminate future...
"Better put it in your pocket," Zoro said kindly. "While you still have one."
Kaku nodded again, this time to himself. Okay, screw confusion. Now it was on.
Swords flashed without another word. The strike directed at Zoro's pants - take that! - was parried at the last fraction of a second by a couple of swords; the third one flashed at Kaku's belt, but Kaku turned and ducked, and took a small slice on the ribs instead.
Momentum put fifteen feet between them; they turned and circled. Zoro hefted his swords, studying his adversary, looking for a way into Kaku's multi-weaponed guard. Though Kaku did not miss the way his gaze lingered on bare skin, taking longer going over Kaku's legs than even the risk of Rankyaku justified.
So, that's what was happening here. In an odd way, Kaku was relieved. There'd been something behind his meetings with Roronoa, in the companiable silences, in the way Zoro would start to say something sometimes and cut off and drink sake instead...Kaku's life depended on his ability to read people as well as their sword moves, yet he'd lost himself in more and more elaborate conjunctures of a fiendish plot on Zoro's behalf rather than let himself believe his first spot-analysis: "The guy isn't sure how to make a pass at someone he nearly killed a few months ago and who is technically an enemy."
Now Kaku had a handle on where all this was going. And of course it was a bad direction, one which a responsible CP9 agent would be mad to contemplate, yet Kaku didn't retreat an inch. If he didn't verify his deductions, he might have a hard time trusting his instincts in this matter again, and besides, if Kaku had ever been afraid of going to the end of anything in his life he'd be a totally different person and have a much nicer and considerably more boring job.
As punctuation to that thought, Zoro attacked. Kaku melted into the warm night air ahead of him, darted back, fell like a leaf to the ground while one arm shot up, sure and deadly. Score!
Zoro ploughed to a stop, leaving a ten feet rut carved into the soft soil of the clearing. A crooked smile was directed at the cut in the white shirt, turning red at the edges. He planted his swords, all three of them, and peeled off his top. There was a scar right across his chest; the dancing torch light made it look like a snake writhing over his skin. Zoro tossed his shirt over his shoulder, picked up his swords, placed the white-hilted katana between his teeth, fell into an aggressive posture...then he cleared his throat pointedly. Kaku stopped staring at that wall of scars and muscles and hastily reassembled something resembling a defence.
He concentrated on evasion while trying to get his composure back. Zoro's swords flickered, torch-lit steel darting towards Kaku from all points of the compass at once, however physically impossible that was. Kaku dodged, going low in an effort to save his pants; he was ready to swear the sword he was avoiding smiled at his skittish effort and it was purely of its own volition that it let him escape, laying a strip of skin on his upper arm open in a caress of steel instead. The word 'love bite' jumbled in Kaku's mind along with other, less redeemable thoughts. All this was forcing him to admit that his obsession with Zoro might not have been entirely due to Kaku's defeat at his hands...
Metal chopped the air into thin strips all around him. This was still a game; a game where part of the fun was that either participant could sort-of-accidentally wind up really hurt. Kaku rolled back, heart thudding with alarm, excitement and other wholesome emotions. Steel met and sang and meleed; their swords seemed to be having a bloody good time of it too. The crooked grin on Kaku's face was utterly inappropriate but unless a government lackey with a performance evaluation chart popped up in the next few minutes, it didn't really matter. Zoro, for one, didn't seem to mind.
Another break. The torches hissed and stuttered before daring to try to burn normally again; one of them had gone out, tilted at an odd angle by a Rankyaku near-miss. The two men circled each other. The firelight drew interesting patterns on the bare skin and scars of Zoro's chest.
"You," said Zoro, with his usual ventriloquist act. "You are not as good as Mihawk."
Kaku's eyes narrowed, though he didn't answer, determined not to let the remark - or the small curl of offended anger he felt - distract him.
"But you're the second best I ever met."
...Kaku didn't have a clue how he was supposed to take that.
Zoro dropped his stance, lifted his right hand and took the sword out of his mouth. "You know-"
His unguarded right side triggered Kaku's attack before Kaku's brain had the time to review the plan and okay it. He darted to one side of the clearing before Zoro was halfway through the word 'know', using Soru with intent to circle entirely through the first row of trees - confuse the opponent - and attack on that right flank, the one where Zoro's hand was encumbered with two swords-
"-I like giraffes. Tough animals."
Kaku barely stopped himself before a stumble of amazement sent him ploughing through a tree. He leaned briefly against the hard bark and rolled his eyes towards the night sky. If the direction they were heading got any more obvious it'd be downright embarrassing. The time to stop this was now.
Roronoa's eyes went wide as he caught sight of the two swords hurled at him with deadly accuracy; his weapons flew up in a parry. But Kaku's swords missed him by a foot on either side and landed like javelins into the dirt near his feet, boxing him in. When Zoro looked up, Kaku was right in front of him. Kaku sent fingers sinking into tempting strands of green, pulled Roronoa forward and got their mouths together before any more ridiculous pussyfooting was perpetrated.
An error in momentum - trying to Soru into a kiss wasn't easy without breaking someone's teeth - meant the contact was intense but brief and ended in a stumble. Kaku's cap jabbed Zoro in the forehead before tumbling to the ground. They caught their balance, and Zoro stared at him across four inches of space. For a heart-thudding moment Kaku thought he'd misread the situation, which would be Bad in their present relative positions. But then Zoro got this ruminative look on his face, said, "Yeah, I guess that works too," planted his swords into the ground, grabbed Kaku around the waist and brought them together again just as violently.
It was more a thing of bites and licks than a kiss. It was also the first threatening lurches of a spring that'd been getting wound tighter and tighter for months now. Kaku knew full well at this point that he'd gone stark raving mad, and it was a very liberating conclusion. Covered by a Temporary Insanity Clause, his hands were free to drag over a body like a weapon, all sleek muscle and steel will. Touch everything, hold and grab. Avow and complete what they'd been doing with swords up until now. It was the most singularly exciting sexual experience he'd had until now, and he suspected it'd remain so for, oh, at least the next five minutes...
Sweet grass scent and heat rose around them as they stumbled back and forth like wrestlers vying for a win. Instinct kept them balanced and on their feet despite the owners of said instinct being a little too distracted to care. Finally their legs tangled, instinct threw up its hands in defeat and let gravity win the throw-down. Kaku landed partly on Zoro, the hand that'd been kneading his ass a little too tight for comfort but that just added to the stimulation. And there was all this nice, firm body for him to rub against- yeah, yeah, this'd work-
Then Zoro rolled them over and that solid body was all over his. Kaku was drowning in heat and scents and sensation. An instinctive reluctance of being overwhelmed - even if he was loving it - made him kick his heels into the grass and roll them over again. Too far; a roll and a half and they landed on their side. Kaku felt his spine press into one of the swords Zoro had planted upright into the ground. That was fine, though, side by side was okay, removed the immediate dominance question, and allowed the battle to move to the torrid kiss instead.
I really, really shouldn't be doing this, thought Kaku dreamily as he explored Zoro's mouth with his tongue. The thought wasn't strenuous, coming hand in hand as it did with 'but I'm going to do it anyway'. He'd had all sorts of brief encounters in his duty-delimited life, with enemies, friends, targets...these things happened, and as long as it stayed between the two of them, it'd be fine. With a guy built like that, powerful hands moving down Kaku's back to his hips, it was going to be a lot better than fine. It was going to be really fine.
With a few ominous cracks from stressed seams, they got the rest of their clothes off. "Probably safer-" Kaku said, struggling with getting black cloth over Zoro's boot before giving up and tugging it off first, and Zoro's hands snaking down to caress the skin of his legs, very distracting - "uh, getting our pants off this way than with swords."
"Safer for me, sure."
"My strikes were getting awfully close, weren't they," said Kaku with a fierce grin, grappling with the second boot.
"Yeah, but you were getting distracted. Had me a little concerned."
Kaku twisted against the hand dragging down his leg, and only incidentally removing his tracksuit and boxers, to straighten up and kiss/bite the bloody smirk off the bastard's face. The wrestle rolled them away from the sword and back to where they'd started. Low blows, shoves, bites, grips that gave way to a caress that gave way to a stronger grip...
"Is this what you usually call foreplay?" Kaku asked, breathless, as he tried to keep an arm-lock that sweat made impossibly slippery.
"Yeah. No." Zoro twisted out of the hold and flipped them over, using his greater weight to his advantage.
"Make- make up your mind." Kaku ran his tongue up a pierced ear, the only target in immediate range, and felt a massive shudder run through the body pinning him.
Zoro turned his head to look down at him, eyes unblinking and intent. "Done this before," he said softly. "But not with somebody who can give as good as he gets."
Kaku felt a strange and very un-government-official smile twist his lips; he buried it in a bruising kiss before it compromised him.
The wrestling transmuted as smoothly as it had started into a slow, coiling, rubbing motion. The sweat slicking their bodies made it easy. The kiss pulsed with the same rhythm, slow and hot.
The weight on Kaku shifted. Zoro got up on one knee, only the distance needed to put a bit of space between them without breaking the point where they lapped and stress-tested each other's tongues. Zoro's technique was like his Santoryuu, Kaku found himself thinking, all blunt and way-too-powerful, giving up finesse for strength and expediency in a way that had its own subtle attraction.
Zoro broke the kiss and straightened up. Kaku followed him inch for inch, getting to his knees in a sinuous movement that kept their bodies close together. Zoro went hmmmm, and then said, breath hot and fast against Kaku's lips: "Just a sec. We'll use this. I forgot to bring anything else."
"What?" Kaku said, though truth be told, only a small fraction of his brain was busy trying to decode that. Then there was a crack of a wax seal being broken somewhere to his left, and he looked around in time to see Zoro one-handedly spilling some of the venerable sword oil into his palm.
"Just what do you-" Kaku started to say, in the tone of one who didn't like to improvise lube thankyouverymuch, especially with something that belonged on steel and which would undoubtedly come with a label marked 'not for internal use' if those monks had even conceived of the necessity to add it.
Zoro paused...but by that time he'd already wrapped one big strong hand around both their cocks and Kaku took a second or two to get his train of thought back in the right direction again. He'd not gotten laid for-...once he had a bit more blood in the brain region, he'd be able to calculate it, but the number came in units of months, quite possibly stretching to a year, he knew that much; bloody Water 7 mission and his all-too-squeaky-clean cover story that'd forced him to be all manners of discreet-
Zoro made an interrogative sound. Kaku looked up into straightforward eyes of a man who had no clue what kind of objection Kaku had been about to make. He almost regretted saying anything.
A glance down at where his hand grasped them both, and Zoro frowned. "This okay?"
"Once you start moving, yes," said Kaku with what he thought was wonderful restraint. Barely any hint of strain in his voice at all.
"Can do," said Zoro, smirk audible, and pulled down. Slowly. Then up, palm rough and callused drawing straight lines of pleasure up sensitive skin. Then down again, pressing their erections together, so that Kaku could feel the press of blood-hardened flesh against his own down to the veins. Zoro's grip was strong - of course - but he was deliberately going slow. Kaku was wound up tight already, tighter than he'd expected to be; when (if) he got back to Enies Lobby, he'd see the department shrink about this obsession with swords and fighting and tough bastard swordsmen and how they seemed unhealthily linked to his sex drive. His arms had wrapped around Zoro's shoulders without his say-so, he was shuddering as pleasure ached at being leashed in by that taunting slowness, and he could almost feel the bastard's expression of smug satisfaction hovering somewhere near Kaku's right ear.
Kaku would also see that shrink about the way challenges turned him on, but right now he was going to wipe that expression off Zoro's face.
Kaku slid his hand up Zoro's wrist, but only to get some of the oil spilling down from that hard grip. Then his fingers went exploring, down, caressing curly green hair - he'd had a good look even under torchlight earlier, it was indeed green - to balls that tightened at his touch; Kaku wasn't the only one stretched taut. Zoro breathed out in a 'humf' that surely took his formerly superior expression with it. Kaku mouthed, bit and sucked the corner of the neck and sinewy shoulder temptingly offered while he drew curlicues with his fingers and Zoro rasped in his ear, his hand gripped harder and got down to serious business, teasing dumped by the wayside.
Sensations spread from where Zoro was beating them off, down the sensitive skin of inner thighs, up Kaku's spine, over his stomach, crawling across the abs and the scars Zoro had left there a few months back (no matter...). Zoro's mouth fastened on Kaku's neck near the jaw; the minor pain was on the same frequency as the pleasure. The jungle rustled and writhed around them, full of things hunting and mating; the torches crackled; the warm breeze dragged sweat across their flesh.
Zoro left the bite with a lick and lifted his head. "Did you want to do the other stuff?"
Kaku focused his eyes after a couple of tries. He'd really gone too long without getting laid. What- oh, other stuff.
The way Roronoa said 'other stuff' told Kaku a lot: that Zoro hadn't had all that much prior experience (which, considering that the man's astounding drive was primarily, secondarily and tertiarily focused on swords, wasn't all that surprising); that Zoro had heard about 'the other stuff', probably in bars and dives and in a very negative light; and that Zoro looked unenthused about the 'other stuff', as well he might. Kaku felt an urge to tell him how fun the 'other stuff' could be, if done correctly. Kaku wasn't all that passionate about anal sex, top or bottom, it just wasn't his favourite, but giving head, on the other hand...if Zoro hadn't just slathered them with an unidentified substance, Kaku would have taken upon himself to make a new convert. But with those two 'other stuff' out of the way, handjobs seemed to be the order of the day. Or...
Kaku touched Zoro's wrist to get him to slacken his grip, leaned over and scooped up the- well, it was lube for tonight. Burying his inner swordsman's mutter of 'what a waste of good sword oil', he dumped a liquid ounce into his palm. Zoro frowned - the same regretful comment undoubtedly going through his head - but he said nothing and did not even look concerned at what might be the appearance of the dreaded 'other stuff'. There was some ballsy kind of trust here, which boggled Kaku (and lessened the evil pleasure of a feeling of superiority at being, for once, the one in control and with greater skills and knowledge, which was a pity because with Roronoa this did not happen often). Questions pooled in his mind like the lube: just what kind of experience did Zoro have, with whom, and had they also been enemies...?
He could get inquisitive or he could get laid. An easy choice to make right now. Kaku smeared the lube onto his inner thighs, tingles running ahead as he stroked higher up. Zoro had leaned back, riveted by the spectacle. There was a flush of colour on his cheeks, on his lips, and a look on his eye that shared some characteristics with his earlier concentration. If Kaku had been anybody else, he'd have found it unnerving to be the focus of that kind of intensity, but since he wasn't anybody but himself, he could feel that pulse of excitement beat faster than ever. He reached out for Zoro's cock with the lubed hand, adding to the oiliness as he got to his knees. Zoro followed the silent prompt and did the same until they were kneeling face to face, only inches apart.
Kaku tilted his head, licked Zoro's lower lip- and finally got a reaction out of stoic Mr. East Blue Demon when he closed the heat and pressure of his thighs over Zoro's cock. Zoro made an odd hitched gasp and clutched at Kaku's hips as if the ground had suddenly moved. That was a nice reaction. A very nice reaction. Kaku could feel Zoro's cock between his legs, and an excitement greater than a jaded agent should feel at the sensation and the way the other man gripped his waist.
A hand on Zoro's ass got him moving. It didn't take much encouragement. Kaku kept his hand where it was, fascinated by the play of muscles as Zoro pushed in, flexed out; his head dropped onto Kaku's shoulder with a non-noise that felt more than sounded like clenched teeth in Kaku's ear. Kaku was panting, and he wasn't even getting any directly; just undirected friction from where Zoro's skin brushed his cock, and the erotic slide in and out, rippling movement that, depending on the angle of Zoro's thrust, brushed his sac, his perineum, or tingled near skin that belonged to 'other stuff', as Zoro would say.
Zoro gripped harder. Kaku knew he'd have finger marks all over his hips and it made him shiver and grab Zoro's ass to return the favour. He could feel the man's breath cascade down his back with each release of breath and gasp of pleasure as he concentrated on fucking him; Kaku let his free hand trail over the strong neck, now bowed, brushed by a feeling of power that had little to do with the automatic 'I could severe his spinal cord right now and he'd be too busy to stop me' which was just a professional reflex kicking in uninvited.
Sweat trickled where their bodies joined, dripped into the hot and humid jungle grass. The torches spluttered and flared in an arena of fire around them and shone of their five swords, planted at angles all around them to form a warrior's bower. It never even occurred to Kaku at that moment (or, indeed, not for a few days until a particularly vivid recollection of this moment in a bit of private time in his cabin) that anybody could have stumbled into that clearing in the jungle. At that point, they could have been alone on the whole Grand Line.
Strength clashed, bodies pushed together. Zoro was blunt force, Kaku was a rampart. Hard, opposed movement; haphazard push and shove and give and take, yet remaining in balance with condescending ease. And damn, this was just as much fun - and considerably more pleasurable - than the earlier fighting, and for many of the same reasons. Zoro was pounding into him with a relentless, awing force; Kaku was at once thankful he'd not suggested anal sex, and almost a little regretful. Would it be painful? Oh definitely. But would the ride be worth it? Maybe that's what had been missing those previous times he'd- hmmmohyeah- "Like that," he hissed, as Zoro's glans ran a line from his balls all the way to the delicate crinkle of skin and highly sensitized nerves there.
Zoro got it again on the second try; his first thrust had been offset by a ripple of muscles in Kaku's thighs, muscles that were strong enough and positioned in such a way that emasculation was a distinct possibility, as Kaku had to remind himself. Had to be careful. He was without doubt a merciless assassin, a devious infiltrator and an enemy of pirates everywhere, but that'd be rude. And a waste.
Zoro made a gasping noise and his sudden grip around Kaku's ribs would have snapped bones in another man. It was a powerful feeling to have that man break and grasp him like a life-raft. Kaku breathed in and out, tasting each moment, the smell of sweat, the heat, the panting, the tremble in Zoro's frame, the trickle down his inner thighs.
The powerful shoulders shuddered once. Zoro took three deep breaths, ending in a pleased sound like a contented tiger voicing its appreciation. Then he said the words that Kaku was longing to hear. "Your turn."
Right on. Kaku put a hand on Zoro's shoulder and shoved him back. Zoro fell down with a startled grunt; ahhh, the wonders of orgasm when it came to relaxing steel bodies and stilling reflexes. There was a scowl on Zoro's face, not sure where this was going. Kaku's gaze drifted from it down the body laid out beneath him. He picked up Roronoa's hand without looking away from the rest of the glorious picture, pressed fingers against his cock and prompted them to finish what they'd started.
Insects chirruped, sounding terribly mundane after all that. At least the mosquitoes had decided these were two bodies that might be too dangerous to bite and were leaving well enough alone. The breeze had fallen; what was left of it carried the faint scent of an eventual dawn. Kaku brushed a crushed piece of grass off his shoulder, a monumental effort. At his side, Zoro rubbed his nose and yawned noisily. Various fluids were trying to dry in the moist air, with mitigated success, and Kaku wondered who he'd have to intimidate aboard the Marines frigate to get a bath drawn without too much fuss or questions asked about his dishevelled appearance and the state of his clothes.
"That thing you did. Or that I did, rather. What's that called?" Zoro asked.
"Depends which island you visit," Kaku answered, most of his concentration on the afterglow.
"Was fun."
"Hm."
"You can do it next time."
"Hm." Sounded good, though there were other fun things to try too, and Zoro would at some point become acquainted with the infinite wonders of having someone's tongue wrapped around his-
'Wait a minute,' said Kaku's sense of duty. 'Next time? One night stand, remember? Pirate, enemy, kill him without hesitation. All that.'
He could get the termination order tomorrow...and at that point one of them (and it was unfortunately not a certainty it would be Zoro) would not see the sun rise again. But that would happen when it happened, if it happened. The world was changing. So was Kaku. This thought had filled him with fear up till now - transmuted into brooding and a waspish irritation, until the Marines walked around him on tiptoes - but at this point, the mix of endorphins and release were easing him into another point of view. When his government was busy shifting around all the ground on which Kaku had always relied on, the only philosophy one could cling to was 'Live In The Now', with a corollary of 'Get Laid By This Awesome Guy As Often As Circumstances Permit'. Anything else would be a waste of a good obsession.
So much for temporary insanity, Kaku told himself, and then turned towards Roronoa. "How about you?" he asked (for some reason, it didn't occur to him that Zoro hadn't followed his train of thought). "You likely to get into trouble over this?"
"Why?"
"Let me see, just where do I start. Sleeping with the enemy is one good reason. Did you even tell them there was a CP9 assassin on board the Marines frigate and that you regularly met up to have drinks with him?"
"Nah."
"That'd be another one."
"You really don't know much about my crew, do you."
"We met only briefly and we never had much opportunity to exchange deeply meaningful words about life, death and sex with the opposition."
"Trust me, they don't care. How about your side?"
"They'd care a great deal, assuming there's still someone at Mariejoie who knows who I am and can find what the new rule book says about fraternization. I think we'd better be discreet."
"Works for me."
No questions on Zoro's part, no blandishments, no attempts to rally Kaku to Luffy's cause. Kaku wasn't even surprised. Damn Straw Hats. Always refusing to be as bad as pirates should be, straying into grey zones where bad guys weren't so bad. Screwing around with CP9 agents who were already in the grey zone where good guys weren't so good, if one didn't believe in assassination as a political expedient...Why did Kaku have the worrying notion that they'd just met in the middle...?
Kaku curled up in the warmth by Zoro's side to fend off the shiver of cooler air that pre-dawn was blowing into the sea and decided to think about it all later.
"Of course he's lost," Sanji said, one foot on the gunwale already. "Fret not, Nami-swaaan! I'll find him and bring him back before the tide turns."
"Thanks, Sanji-kun- Oh no, wait, there he is. Zoro! Get your butt over here, we're sailing-...what on earth happened to you?!"
That drew all the Straw Hats to the starboard side of the Sunny to watch in amazement as their first mate (guided by one of the island's kindly inhabitants) made his way along the dock and leapt aboard. Zoro ignored their stares and their questions, acting supremely unconcerned about the cuts, bloodstained clothes and other signs of a struggle scattered over the bits of his body that were visible, which were way too many since he was carrying all but his pants in a bundle beneath his arm.
"I'm here," he announced, perfectly unnecessarily. "We sailing yet? When's breakfast?"
"Breakfast will be after we get out of this atoll on the tide," Nami said, recovering (though she gave Zoro's bare chest a discreet third and fourth glance as she made her way to the wheel, probably, Sanji decided, because the sight of all that bloodied marimo was appalling her more refined senses).
The rest of the crew wandered off to their respective positions: Robin was already on the foredeck, she'd done nothing but smile slightly as Zoro had come aboard; Chopper, Usopp and Franky tackled the sails, Sanji turned the capstan with a couple of shoving kicks because only a weak loser would need help winching up an anchor, Luffy was on the figurehead and the dumbass swordsman was glancing around for the best spot to nap, of course. But his eyes met Sanji's and he seemed to remember something.
"Hey, love-cook."
"What?"
"You're not as dumb as you look. At least you give good advice."
"Wha? Advice? What are you-" Sanji's cigarette fell numbly from his mouth and he barely remembered to block the capstan's backward rotation with his foot before the anchor became reacquainted with the seabed. "No. Don't tell me...You got laid?"
"Yup."
"...and then what, the husband came in?"
But Zoro was already halfway up the deck. "Hey, Luffy! Where we going now?"
"I don't know!" Luffy shouted back from the figurehead with a delighted laugh. "Straight ahead, I guess!"
"Good enough. Make sure we don't lose those Marines back there, okay?"
"Oh, we won't! They've been following us for so long, they're buddies now. Hey guys!" Luffy shouted, waving a twenty-foot long arm at the vessel that was too far for hailing anyway, "We're on our way! See you when we get there!"
And the Sunny pulled away and sailed straight ahead, which was bound to be an interesting, if somewhat complicated, direction.
END
I'm surprised there's not more yaoi smut fics featuring intercrural sex; I've heard it described as the 'gay man's missionary position' and in some regions of the world it's apparently even more popular than oral sex and way more popular than anal, yet nary a fic with it out there.
