Rating: NC17 (those of you who remember Mal saying that she prefers OP Genfics, this is your cue to laugh and mock me)
Pairing: SanZo, ZoSan
Warning: Smex, language, no violence this time, oddly enough. Well...not much...
Summary: Zoro and Sanji's second time. The less said about the first...
Disclaimer: If I said they were mine on the strength of this fic, I'd get sooooooo sued. So, the characters are not mine, I am not making money off of this and am probably tarnishing my karma by writing silly, silly things when I should be doing something better with my time.
Timeline: An unspecified time before Water 7. No spoilers beyond Robin's presence.
AN: This fic is lighweight and not to be taken too seriously. Really. Hot'n'dumb fun. That's the spirit to enjoy it in.
It was Usopp who coined the term 'whirlwind non-romance' for it. 'Non-romance', because you'd have to gut the word romantic and turn it inside out to apply it to Zoro and Sanji's interaction, even after they started screwing. As for 'whirlwind', that wasn’t a metaphor so much as a reference to the weeks of escalating tension between the two men, that seemed to puzzle even Sanji and Zoro on the few occasions they cooled down enough to think about it. Their nakama tiptoed through the growing stormy oppression, until it culminated in a blowup of meteorological proportions, with a good amount of noise and damage that left two bodies strewn in the wreckage of the galley table, kissing fiercely. Nami, who was last to arrive on the scene, said "well, that explains the weather patterns" and then chased everybody out of the kitchen so the guys could get it out of their system before anything else got busted up.
There was a period of adjustment, of course, but things hadn't changed that much, and the Straw Hats had adapted to worse and weirder. Sanji and Zoro still shifted from indifferent comrades and occasional rivals, to teammates fighting with deadly efficiency when a common enemy appeared. The only difference was that they argued a bit less and disappeared to give each other head on a regular basis. Once they'd gotten over the initial shock, their nakama learned just how far you could tease them on the subject, and that it was wise to knock very loudly on the galley door and wait three seconds before entering these days. Beyond that, there wasn't much to get excited about, what with the Grand Line hurling new challenges and weird dangers at them on a reliable basis.
So a few weeks after the whirlwind non-romance, things had already settled into a routine, inasmuch as anything was routine on those seas and aboard that ship. The end of the dawn watch brought a loud knock on the galley door, followed by three second's delay-
"Come in," Sanji said from near the oven.
Usopp's nose appeared, followed cautiously by the rest of him. When he realized that Robin was also seated on the bench along with Zoro, and that the chances of seeing anything disturbing were reduced, he walked in nonchalantly and closed the door. His eyes widened before he was halfway to his seat as he took in the contents of the table.
"Wow, that's sure a spread, Sanji. Thanks!"
"Just sit down and eat," Sanji drawled, sounding pleased nonetheless.
Zoro put down his emptied mug and reached for the food, his mind on the day's training and chores. He picked up some rice-pancakey thing, bit into it and licked his lips. Not bad. Sanji had outdone himself this morning.
"More coffee, Robin-chaaan?"
Robin looked up from her book to examine Sanji curiously. "No thank you, Cook-san. You poured me some five minutes ago; I've barely touched my cup yet."
"Ah yes. Please tell me when you want a refill, and I'll brew you some fresh. Hey you. More?"
Zoro looked suspiciously at the proffered coffee pot for a few seconds. The cook usually expected the men to help themselves. But the offer seemed genuine. "Sure."
The dark liquid splashed into his cup. "There enough food for you?" Sanji made it sound like an acid comment about Zoro's inordinate appetite.
The cook muttered something indistinct and went back to the stove. Zoro smirked into his mug as he sipped. Bringing him coffee, making extra food, almost being nice...why didn't Sanji just climb up to the crow's nest and bellow 'I got laid last night! Yippeee!', it'd be just as discreet.
Zoro didn't mind if his nakama figured out that the pair of them had gone beyond handjobs and head last night. Neither did he care if they figured out who'd been on the bottom, which, knowing the two men involved, had to be pretty easy to guess. Sanji, between his chivalry and his skirt-chasing, was not going to be very receptive to the idea of anything that might threaten his masculinity. While Zoro knew perfectly well that he was one mean bastard of a swordsman already, and taking it up the ass a few times wouldn't change that. It was obvious who would be doing who; that's why he'd suggested it in the first place. He might eventually talk the cook into swapping one day, but he wasn't holding his breath. Especially since it was hardly pleasant for the guy getting it.
Zoro had expected it to hurt, of course. Neither of them had any direct - or even indirect - experience with doing it with men, but Zoro had been around, he knew how the world worked. If getting screwed was fun, then cabin boys would ambush sailors and whores would pay their customers, not the other way around, right? For someone who got regularly skewered by pointy objects of the weapons variety, the pain involved last night had been less than trifling. And having Sanji muttering 'oh fuck- oh fuck' in his ear and against his spine in that gasping, incredulous tone had made it worth the while. Zoro had been shoving himself back into Sanji near the end, in a perverse pride at being able to handle it and blow the other's mind. That much had been fun.
There was a residual ache this morning, which Zoro stubbornly refused to acknowledge. This was nothing. He was definitely going to ambush Sanji in the galley and do it again one of these nights when neither of them was on guard duty. Maybe not right away, though. This was kind of the extreme way of having sex; the sex equivalent of drawing three swords and putting on a bandana. Even Sanji would agree, considering how the wimp cook had complained for the first minute about the fit and how his dick was getting strangled, before starting the 'oh fuck' routine and finishing twenty thrusts later.
The blowjob that had followed had been the best yet, Zoro had to concede that...still, they should save it for special occasions, and just do the regular stuff on a daily basis.
Zoro finished breakfast, sitting quite firmly and without the slightest bit of fidgeting on the hard wooden bench. Then he went to train, like always. He'd forget the mild discomfort soon enough.
Further fallout from the whirlwind non-romance was a small change in routine aboard the Going Merry. Zoro now tended to practice a lot without his shirt (because that kept it from getting dirty). Sanji would frequently sit down on deck to peel his vegetables (because that allowed him to get some sunshine, when he was otherwise cooped up in the galley all day). Nobody commented (because of Luffy's rather impressive rebound around the ship when Sanji had spin-kicked the captain for laughing about it once).
Since the day was sunny, Zoro soon heard the sound of veggies getting scraped. Each small 'thunk' - a potato or carrot dropped into the pot - would herald a lingering look that Zoro could actually feel on his skin. Hot, sensual...today it felt practically covetous. Zoro didn't mind; it seemed to make the grinding repetitions go by a lot faster, until before he knew it, he was doing more than usual. It'd gotten to the point where Zoro was associating better practice sessions with fair weather and vegetables, which was mildly confusing but not any more than the rest of his feelings involving the bloody cook...
Eventually Sanji went back into the kitchen and Zoro finished up his routine. He bent down to pick up his bottle of watered-down rum and grimaced at a small jab of unexpected discomfort. He rubbed his tailbone as he straightened, absently trying to find a pressure point for that area and thankful the cook was no longer around. It wasn't that it hurt; the warm burn in his muscles was at this point closer to pain than that. But it was a little nagging soreness where he wasn't used to it. He hadn't felt it while he was training, too busy concentrating on his goals. So maybe he should train some more. Yeah, good idea, that was always the best answer to-
Zoro whipped his hand away from his back as he realized there was someone right behind him. He knew who it was before he even turned around, because the ex-assassin was the only one who could sneak up on him like that.
Robin had a coil of rope in her hands; she'd stopped in her tracks and was looking at him, face unreadable.
Robin opened her mouth...then held out the rope and gave him that small, enigmatic smile that Sanji found charming and Zoro disturbing. "Navigator-san has asked us to swap out some of the cordage. She's worried about the effects of that ice-storm yesterday."
Zoro rolled his eyes, made a comment about female slave drivers and went to put on his shirt. Robin just gave him the same smile again, though she did give him a hand too - several, in fact - with the rigging until the lunch bell rang.
Sanji was still being almost nice to him again as he served up the stew - Zoro's favorite, as it turned out, with plenty of rice, meat and sake in the broth and not too much greenery. This was almost getting embarrassing. Not that Zoro was going to ruin it by commenting.
After lunch he trained some more, because that took priority over fixing sails and other mundane tasks, and then he finished the rigging without Robin's help this time. Women couldn't be counted on. He dragged Usopp and Luffy into helping instead; he'd have asked Chopper too, but he couldn't find the critter. Neither could he find Sanji, who wasn't in the galley, oddly enough. He didn't even bother asking Nami, who was busy tanning and watching them from the deck with the air of one enjoying herself immensely.
Working together, they finished in half an hour. Zoro went down to the men's quarters to collect a change of clothes. He had the rest of the afternoon all planned out. First a shower, and after that there was a bottle of grog calling his name; it had promised to settle down with him for a nice long nap in a corner of Nami's tangerine grove.
He was digging around in his sea chest when someone slid down the ladder behind him.
"Oh, there you are," Zoro said, without having to look around. "Where were you hiding? We could have used your help with the rigging."
Silence. A very distinct silence that made the back of Zoro's neck prickle as he looked over his shoulder. Sanji was standing near the ladder, face set and hard, staring at him.
"What?" Zoro grunted.
"Stand up." The words were bitten off.
Oooh, did cook-boy want a fight? Zoro didn't bother wondering why Sanji had gone from being gruffly amicable at lunchtime to spoiling for an argument less than three hours later; he was sure there was some reason or other, and even if there wasn't, a good fight should never go to waste. He got up-
He shouldn't have let Sanji's attitude distract him. He also shouldn't have straightened up so fast. The way he'd moved - the check in the movement was minute, a tiny adjustment, but he might as well have muttered 'ow' because Sanji was a fighter too, and knew how to read body language for the slightest sign of weakness. From the way Sanji's eyes widened and fixated on Zoro's ass, the cook had found one. Damn it.
"I did hurt you last night." Sanji's voice was utterly flat.
"What? No. Why-"
"You stupid...fucking...idiot. Why didn't you tell me to stop? I asked you if it was hurting and you said no!"
"It didn't hurt," Zoro growled. "Compared to getting plugged in a fight-"
He knew that was a mistake the moment he said it; the proverbial match tossed into the powder keg.
"A fight?! You-" Sanji's jaw clenched and he ducked his head, bangs falling forward like a curtain.
Zoro re-evaluated the situation. Sanji wasn't angry. Much. But he was sure upset over something. Of course, when Sanji was upset, he generally got mad anyway, so the end result would probably be the same.
"It's nothing, dumbass. Don't make a big deal out of it. I can barely feel it." He turned around and fished for some clean clothes in his locker. Maybe if he brushed it off, it'd blow over. He didn't feel like theatrics. And he also remembered - a bit belatedly - that they'd promised Usopp they wouldn't turn the men's quarters into a battlefield anymore after breaking his chemistry set a few months back.
Behind him, Sanji took in a deep, shuddering breath and let it out with what sounded awfully like a growl. Then came something Zoro didn't expect; a rustle of cloth. He glanced over his shoulder again to see Sanji slipping off his jacket and tossing it without looking at a rung in the ladder.
"What are you-"
"Strip," Sanji said, jerking his tie off. "We're going to do it again."
Zoro was speechless for a whole three seconds, which should have been immediately recorded in the ship's log under Unusual Events.
"We're doing it again. Get your clothes off. Unless you're too sore," Sanji added, with a calculating look. "In too much pain to get it up, maybe?"
Effectively out-maneuvered, Zoro lost precious momentum thinking up an answer that didn't sound defensive. "...I'm not sore at all, but I don't roll over just because you order me to-"
"I'm not ordering you," Sanji said, clearly contradicting himself, the bastard. "I'm suggesting we have sex. Where's the problem?"
"No problem, pervert-cook, but maybe I just don't want to."
Sanji froze over his shirt buttons and stared at Zoro with the legitimately horrified expression of one who had good cause to know that Zoro was usually up for it anytime, anywhere. "I hurt you that much?!"
"What?! No!" Zoro scrubbed his scalp and resisted the urge to throttle the man. But in the end, it was the mild throb in his backside at the thought of Sanji screwing him again that made him snap.
"Fine. Fine! Let's do it, then." He was damned if he was going to allow himself the slightest weakness, even in this area. The pain was genuinely negligible, even now that Zoro was ready to admit it was still stinging, but it was nonetheless a minor weakness, a slight flaw. How could he face Mihawk when something so tiny could actually make him move in a way the cook could pick up on? Besides, he really did want to do it with Sanji again. Compared to their usual jostling blowjobs, what they'd done last night had felt...intimate...or something. Zoro wasn't much into self-analysis, he just knew that, pain aside, he'd liked it and intended to repeat it.
Discomforts like these could easily be surmounted. It only required training. They'd do it every hour on the hour until the cook collapsed or until Zoro's ass was made of iron. That'd take care of the problem.
Sanji nodded and bent to untie his shoes. The laces snapped beneath his fingers. He growled and tugged them off.
Zoro grabbed the hem of his shirt and lifted, but a last glimmer of reason did penetrate his determination. "Oi, you really want us to do it now?"
"Yes. Right away." Sanji straightened up and tugged at his belt.
"Fine." Zoro's top landed on his locker. "Just remember that doing it in the men's quarters in the middle of the day is your call. When Luffy bursts in and starts asking some really stupid questions, you get to handle it."
Sanji stood there, belt hanging from his hand, chest bare in the faint glimmer of afternoon sunshine pouring around the cracks in the hatch. His face was hidden by the fall of his hair. "He won't. Nobody will until we're done."
Zoro paused as he toed off his boots. "How do you know?"
The cook was silent a moment, then he made an abbreviated gesture towards the ceiling. "Because Chopper is sitting on the hatch in his human form and won't let anybody in."
"Chopper is sitting on the hatch?" Zoro repeated, just in case it made more sense the second time. No, it still sounded like a fever dream.
"Yeah. He said..." Sanji seemed to shake himself. He slipped a hand in his pocket and drew out a small bottle with a cork top and no label, the kind their doctor poured his concocted remedies into. "He said we didn't do it right last night. We should have used something like this. And done other stuff first."
If Chopper sitting on the hatch barring access to the men's quarters so Zoro and Sanji could screw undisturbed sounded like a fever dream, then that sounded like a full-blown drug-induced hallucination. "Chopper says we didn't do it right?!"
"Shhhh!" Sanji glared at him and gestured angrily at the hatch, reminding Zoro of their furry guardian angel, not that Zoro could bring himself to care.
"How would he know?!"
"He's a doctor. He knows shit like this."
"How would he know we did it at all?" Zoro ground out.
"Let's use the couch," Sanji said as he slipped out of his pants and underwear.
Despite the mild ache when bending over, despite Chopper sitting on the hatch, despite everything, Zoro still felt a familiar flush of heat. Damn, but Sanji looked good when he lost the clothes.
Zoro didn't do confused, unsure or hesitant, so he shrugged and tossed off his pants. He didn't see how a bottle was going to help - not unless it was a whole lot bigger than that and 100 proof, because that's what would be needed to numb Zoro and his well-trained metabolism - but he was game to find out.
He tromped towards the couch, thankful he wouldn't be getting wood grain imprints in his hands and knees this time- to see Sanji lying stiffly against the cover and pillow.
Zoro's perception of the scene flipped onto its head, easily trumping the whole 'Chopper sitting on the hatch and offering sex advice' shock.
"You want me...to do you?" Zoro got ready to dodge a kick in case he was wrong...then realized that a kick to the head might be what he needed to readjust his sense of reality.
"Yeah." That established, Sanji sat up, uncapped the bottle and poured some liquid that looked like thin, clear honey into his palm. A faint smell of pine and coconut wafted through the air.
"But..." Zoro shook his head and scowled. "You don't have to. I don't mind you doing me again. You don't have to prove anything."
"Shut up," Sanji growled, giving him a glare that was almost as good as that kick. "If you're man enough to take it, so can I."
Zoro tilted his head to one side, then the other, trying that one on for size. He had the distant intuition that someone nicer and more touchy-feely than he was would object, say that this was not the right attitude, that Sanji should do it because he wanted to-
Of course, Zoro wasn't that kind of person, and Sanji's reasoning was one he understood perfectly. "Works for me. Just don't bitch at me when it hurts."
"You just told me it didn't hurt." Sanji got onto his knees on the couch.
"It stung me a little, but it'll hurt you plenty. You don't have my resistance." Because even these extremely bizarre circumstances were no reason not to one-up the cook if he could.
Sanji looked like he was contemplating a fight rather than sex for a few seconds, then he shook his head with annoyance. "It's not supposed to hurt at all, dumbfuck. Not if you do it properly and use lubricant. It's even supposed to feel good once you get used to it."
Zoro was about to explain his 'cabin boys and hookers' theory, but he was utterly distracted by what Sanji did next.
"What...what the fuck are you-..."
"Stretching. Shut up, stop gaping and look elsewhere, you're annoying me."
Zoro knew what stretching was. He did it every day. It was a crucial part of any training; it's what kept his body at the peak of his considerable physical condition. What Sanji was doing was not stretching, it was- was-...it was damn hot to look at, but it wasn't stretching-
Zoro closed his eyes in sheer self-directed annoyance. "I should have thought of that."
"Yeah, well, according to Chopper, it would still have hurt since we didn't use anything other than spit. He's given us our physicals, so he knows how we're both built. He's surprised you can sit down this morning. He said he wants to examine you afterwards, but I told him that's up to the two of you and I'm staying well the hell out of it."
"Good call." Zoro had great respect for their doctor, who could wield needle and thread, bandages and disinfectant like a wizard, but no, not going there, not unless Chopper took a half a dozen rumble balls and slammed Zoro through the ocean floor first.
"I told him you were tough enough to take a lot worse without injury, even if it had hurt," Sanji muttered, and to make such a concession, he had to be very distracted by the way he was fingering himself. Oh, it was obvious they both had a healthy respect for the other's abilities, endurance and fighting techniques, but they didn't go around saying it. "But just enduring it isn't the point, if we're going to- hey!"
Sanji scrabbled at the couch's covering and Zoro parried an instinctive kick. Sanji was kind of wired...Zoro kept a firm grip on the other leg he'd used to spill Sanji onto his back.
"Hey, dumbass, I didn't tell you- Chopper said it takes a few minutes." Sanji's glare was lethal, though he didn't say 'I'm not ready' or 'it might hurt' because that might make him sound like a wimp. Which made him the dumbass.
"Shut up, cook. I'm just giving you a hand. You might know a lot about stretching, with those freaky split kicks of yours, but so do I, and I know what it feels like to get a dick up the ass. Besides, what the hell else am I supposed to do, sit back and watch?"
"You could go stuff yourself into a corner and stare at the bulkhead," Sanji suggested, eyes narrowing as Zoro's fingers picked up where his had left off.
"Boring. And though I don't mind watching you..." Zoro's dick certainly hadn't minded watching either, if such could be said of a penis, "I'm not much of a voyeur. I'm more the hands-on type."
"You're a fucking moron whichever way you cut it," Sanji grumbled automatically, but, after a few seconds of tense hesitation, he put his head back down on the couch and relaxed his shoulders a fraction.
The next few minutes were very instructive. Zoro didn't take long to figure it out - at one point he went too fast and an irritated Sanji shoved him off the couch with a leg, but other than that, he soon had the in-out finger motion down, slowing spreading the digits apart on each reiteration. With his other hand, he took advantage of the rare occasion of having Sanji naked and within easy reach, something that usually didn't happen when they were fumbling around in the galley. He traced the muscle defition of chest, abs, caressing his way down to the curly blond hairs prickling beneath his fingers...Sanji hadn't been all that excited to start with, but Zoro hadn't spent the last few weeks jerking him off without learning a few tricks to get the love-cook into the game.
As his fingers worked, Sanji's expression went from tense, to grudging approval, to a queer look Zoro couldn't read too well, as if he was trying to navigate without a compass.
"I think that's good enough," Sanji finally said, oddly breathless. "Put some on your cock, too, and then..."
"Yeah, I got that part figured out." The pine-and-coconut-scented liquid was both oily and oddly frictionless beneath his fingers, first cold and then warming up nicely as he spread it around his dick. Little aches of pleasure followed his fingers, trying to distract him. "Turn around."
Sanji stayed where he was, lying on the couch with his knees bent, frowning and looking oddly shifty. "We can do it this way too. It was...suggested. For...various reasons. Since I'm way more than flexible enough."
Zoro paused in the act of dumping the bottle onto Sanji's pile of clothes behind the couch. "Okay, I'll buy that Chopper gave you a brief rundown on all this and even whipped up the lubricant stuff in his pharmacy, but in no way am I going to believe the fuzzball talked positions with you."
Sanji's face went a weird pewter color that clashed with his fair complexion, his eyes disappearing behind his fallen bangs again. "He...wasn't alone...when he cornered me. Um, it turns out that Robin has read- Robin-chan had once happened to read a book about- you know how intellectually curious she is-"
And suddenly the whole chain of bizarre events made sense to Zoro. Robin. Of course. She'd noticed. She'd figured it out. She'd put Chopper up to it. And she just would have read a book about it...
Zoro closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them he stared at the cook in outright sympathy. "Robin and Chopper ambushed you about the fact you fucked me raw and then gave you advice?"
Sanji breathed out through his nostrils and nodded curtly.
"And you still want to have sex? I'd think you'd be too traumatized."
"I want to put things right," Sanji said through clenched jaw, "and I want to do it now. Because if I wait any longer, I'll think back on that half hour lecture and then I'll wrap the anchor chain around my neck and go swimming."
There was fortunately something they could do that would distract Sanji. Something that Zoro's lower half was starting to ache for. He shoved Sanji's ass up, nudged his knees under the other's hips, sort of fit them together and, after a brief struggle with lubricated flesh, slipped in.
Zoro had had the best of intentions, really. He was going to take it slow, and keep an eye on Sanji and all that and he completely forgot everything up to and including his name for the first brief moment he shoved into the tighthotsqueezy place.
Sanji's flinch and bitten-off snarl brought him back to his senses. He shook his head harshly and focused. Sanji was grimacing in - Zoro wouldn't call it pain, the cook wouldn't like admitting a weakness any more than he had, but it might be called discomfort.
"Oi..." Zoro tried to remember how the talking thing worked, but the thousands of little pressure points and the fast pulse of blood in the flesh wrapped around his erection was doing odd things to his brain.
Sanji hoisted himself onto his elbows despite the way he was bent in the middle, the flexible bastard, and scowled. "That's...got to be...the weirdest feeling-..."
Weird was okay. Weird could probably be lived with. Zoro hauled in a couple of deep breaths, pulled out an inch and pushed in again.
Sanji bit his lip, but didn't say anything, so Zoro did it again. He could go deeper now. And it felt like- like- like he'd have to borrow one of Robin's books to get the right words, because he sure as hell couldn't figure it out beyond 'wantmore'
"...This doesn't hurt at all." Sanji gave him a quirky-eyebrow look, one of his favorite in the repertoire. "I knew you weren't as tough as - hnh!"
That had probably been unsportsmanlike, Zoro reflected, even if Sanji had clearly been asking for it. Zoro was going to feel guilty about shoving it all the way like that, once the massive pleasure input had finished doing a complete number on his ability to feel anything else.
"So...that's...that's all you got?" Sanji's voice was shaking ever so slightly. "Huh...you're all in now? Right?"
Zoro nodded. It was about all he was capable of right now.
"...Okay. Do it."
Ahhh, Sanji...Zoro smiled, a ragged twist of the lips. If there was a tougher bastard cook anywhere on the Grand Line- bah, there wasn't, plain and simple.
Zoro got down to 'doing it' as requested, keeping a rein on himself this time. Apparently you could get used to anything, even body-aching mind-numbing dick-squeezing bliss. He was determined to not lose his grip like that again. Pain or pleasure; a true swordsman was always the master of himself. He'd been training for months for this control. Granted, not with this situation in mind, but now that he was here, deep inside this guy who drove him nuts and wild in equal measure, he might as well use it. He tested the flexibility Sanji had mentioned by grasping the back of the cook's neck, hauling their faces together and forcing Sanji's mouth open with his tongue - getting a faint hint of a taste that always made him think of cigarettes and smoky green tea. And then he got on with business.
On the fifth or sixth time he eased into that nice, blissful place, Sanji suddenly shuddered and fell back against the couch, a surprised look on his face. Zoro grunted interrogatively; he hadn't pushed in any harder than before.
"S'okay." Sanji swallowed. "S'okay, it's feeling a bit less...it's okay now-...uhn..." And then on the next thrust he made a noise like the bastard child of a gasp and a moan.
Zoro forced himself to stop moving. "What-"
"S'okay- s'okay- just-" Sanji's fingers were screwed tightly into the couch's cover. "Just- just- go on, keep-"
Zoro did as ordered, since the tension in Sanji's body language didn't look like pain. No, not at all...Sanji did the noise again and Zoro felt his mouth go dry.
"This...actually feels good?"
"Sorta-...hard to-...say-...just-" Sanji's legs nudged his ribs.
Hell...Zoro had been thinking of finishing as quickly as possible for the cook's sake, but if Chopper was right and this could actually be fun...He exerted a bit more control over himself, and decided to see where this would lead.
In the three minutes that followed, each second stretching like trickles of warm toffee, Sanji went from those odd low-throated gasps to bitten off groans that were fast making this moment the hottest thing in all of Zoro's nineteen years of existence to date. With bells on. It was almost distracting him from his own gut-wrenching pleasure each time flesh slid into flesh and brushed every sensitive nerve he had from here to the East Blue.
The couch's cushions shuffled beneath their shifting weight, the frame creaked. Zoro found a good tempo and stuck to it; the way Sanji was jerking, air leaving his mouth in a rush around a moan, was doing his head in, but he was going to stick to what he'd started come hell or high water.
Sanji gave a short shuddering cry, a sound that was pure sex, and Zoro couldn't help chuckling. "I hope Chopper's enjoying this as much as I am."
Those breathless, impulsive words earned him a strangled gasp. Sanji froze against the couch, eyes fixed on the square of light that was the overhead hatch, palm pressed over his mouth.
"Oi, oi, forget it. He knows what we're doing down here already. Right?" Zoro flexed again.
Sanji's eyes left the hatch, head jerking back against the couch's fabric, but his mouth still covered.
It kept things a little quieter, but no less arousing. Sanji's fair hair fell around his face, onto the couch cover as he turned his head this way and that, like he was almost trying to squirm his way away from what Zoro was doing, but without actually escaping...back to jerking and twitching into the movement each time Zoro's hips flexed inwards. The muffled noises he made...the hand pressed against his mouth...the other hand- Zoro bit the inside of his mouth as his gaze tumbled downward to the juncture between them - other hand caressing himself, long fingers grasping and pulling and getting a little sticky- heels digging into Zoro's ribs, so hard Zoro was probably going to bruise, not that he gave a damn...
Zoro was going to make this last forever. But in the end, it only lasted until Sanji gave a strangled 'hmm-mm!' beneath that hand and tossed his head, eyes wide, hair falling like parting wings, and Zoro had a fraction of a second to decide that he'd been completely wrong before and this was the hottest thing he'd ever- and then the rush hit him and melted him into the body beneath his.
Oh...holy...shit...He'd have said it out loud, but he always clenched his teeth when he came, climax getting mixed up with sword fighting in a way that was just as confusing as sunshine and peeled vegetables and why the fuck was he thinking about vegetables-...hnnnn...
Sanji got him out of his daze by hitting him over the head with the hand not still clamped over his mouth. Long legs shoved at Zoro's thighs, pushing him away, then Sanji caught him by the neck and hauled him down. Zoro found himself blinking stupidly against the skin of Sanji's thigh, still not entirely with it. Sanji's fingers tightened painfully in his hair and hauled him until his nose bumped against Sanji's dick, which felt like it was about to spontaneously combust. Zoro winced in empathy.
It took four licks and a jerk to finish Sanji, who arched and thrashed against the couch before shuddering to a rest.
Zoro swallowed, wiped his lips with his thumb and slumped against the warm body beneath his. He reached up without looking and tugged Sanji's hand away from his mouth, so the dumb cook could get some oxygen into his brain. From the raspy gasp that followed, it was a good call.
Zoro slipped into the post-coital trance which was the second-best thing about sex, especially when it was spent wrapped around a warm body and curled up on a comfortable couch. If his hand stayed fastened on Sanji's wrist, it was because he was too lazy to remove it, with perhaps a smidgeon of rough affection thrown into the bargain.
Time trickled by slowly, pulsing with the slow beats of the waves beneath the hull, drying the beads of sweat along Zoro's lower back. He blinked contentedly into the barely-lit corners of the men's quarters. He could feel a wet spot in the couch's covers - which would have to be washed at some point - getting cooler and less pleasant beneath his thigh, but he couldn't get the energy to care.
"So...looks like Chopper was right...remind me to be real nice to the lil' critter later," he finally mumbled, chin moving against Sanji's chest.
The smell of pine and jizm was permeating the usual tang of old socks, sweat and gunpowder that was the spirit of the men's quarters. Zoro yawned. A nap sounded good; he was overdue already.
Except that there was something a bit off...It was the slight tension in the wrist he was still holding. He lifted his head to glance at Sanji's face, and found it unreadable.
"You okay? S'it hurting?"
Sanji's expression didn't change. "No. Neither should you be, if we'd done it properly last night."
"'S fine," Zoro mumbled, letting his head sink down again. It was, too. Between the training and the sex, his endorphin level had skyrocketed. Pain...? What pain...
"It's not fine. This is how it should have been for you."
Zoro lifted his head again, finally hoisted an arm upright to prop up his chin. "What's the matter? Yeah, we screwed up. Considering the only thing we'd heard about ass-sex before came from hearsay and bad jokes, we had it coming. We know better now, and we have that lubricant stuff. Last night sucked, next time won't."
"But that was our first-"
Sanji bit his lips savagely and turned his face away, looking cross, fortunately before he went and said something that was going to sound a bit too sissy for both their tastes.
Zoro rolled his eyes. Oi, was this going to be a problem?
Despite being involved with Zoro of all people, Sanji still occasionally tripped over a remnant of romantic reflex. A very abortive reflex. If he'd gone as goofy as with the girls, Zoro would have called it quits. Well, no, not quits; what they had was good, and Zoro never gave up without a fight. He'd have just kicked Sanji's ass up and down the Grand Line to get him over it. Fortunately that wasn't necessary; the worst that happened so far was that Zoro was getting maybe a smidgeon more food at mealtimes, or found his bottle of cheap grog sneakily switched for something of marginally better quality. He could deal with that.
But now Sanji's feelings were on the verge of being hurt, and Zoro was not going to stand for that. Because it kinda hurt him too, to see the idiot tying himself into a knot over something that didn't really matter.
A bit of sympathy and understanding would help the cook get over it, Zoro decided. "S'okay, Sanji," he said gruffly.
The tone made Sanji close his eyes and turned his face further away.
Zoro reached up and patted him on the shoulder. "S'okay, man. It can't be helped. One of us had to be the better lover, right?"
'Sympathy and understanding', their way. The way that gave no quarters, and certainly asked for none. The two of them were about strength, grit, grudging affection and an odd kind of faith and respect; the mushy stuff could go to hell.
There was an awesome moment of utter silence and stillness, before Sanji slowly twisted around to face him, eyes gleaming like twin musket muzzles. "What did you say?"
"That I'm the better lover. Obviously, seeing how you were moaning back there. That's okay." Zoro risked life and limb by doing the shoulder-patting thing again. "I'll teach you. With some training, I'm sure you'll improve."
Three, two, one-
"What the fuck?! You're not the better anything! That first balls-up didn't count! We didn't know what we were doing! Neither of us did, dipshit, because you sure as fuck didn't-"
This Sanji - on the cusp of mindless fury - looked so much better than that previous morose one.
"If anything, I'm the better lover! I got the info and the lube, I had the guts to go for it and relax and enjoy it- treat it like- like making love instead of an insane exercise in masochism!"
Zoro was certain he heard something small and cuddly fall off the edge of the hatch and roll onto the deck above their heads at that last growled word, which must have been audible over half the ship. He didn't comment on it, though, because all joking aside, Sanji's accusation hit a bit too close to the mark. He nodded grudgingly. "Yeah, I guess."
"Damn right!" Then Sanji's curly eyebrow climbed his forehead in shock as he realized Zoro had just conceded a point to him.
"Hey, I can admit when I'm wrong." Zoro nodded once more. "No, Sanji, I give it to you hands down, you're the better...cabin-boy."
"Die," Sanji suggested a split second before trying to throttle Zoro with the pillow. Zoro retaliated by spilling the cook from the couch- Sanji hooked him with one of those dangerous legs as he fell and took them both down, rolling and biting and groping, onto the rug.
A few low blows later, Sanji managed to get the upper hand and pin Zoro down in a hold that the latter certainly hoped the cook would never think to apply to an enemy. At least, not naked. He wondered if Sanji was as ready for a second round as he was...
From Sanji's hard grin as he stared down at his opponent, he knew perfectly well he'd been played, but since it had gotten him back to his senses, he wouldn't complain about it. He laughed breathlessly as Zoro jerked against the leg-lock. "You wrestle like a little girl. No wonder you need swords- hey, no biting."
"You bit me."
"You called me a cabin boy. You're lucky I didn't rip something off. I still might." Sanji's teeth shone in the dim light, a feral grin that made Zoro shiver with a deep hunger. "So you think you're better than I am, huh? I'll get you to take that back next time, you bastard."
"Make me take it back now."
Sanji relinquished the hold and sat back, eyes suddenly serious. "Are you nuts? You're sore."
Zoro smirked as he also sat up. "Guess you'll have to actually work at making it good, then. Shouldn't be hard if you're the better lover. But since you're not...if it hurts, I'll punch your lights out."
Sanji reached over and gripped Zoro's jaw with one hand, fingers and palm sternly grinding into his chin even as a thumb brushed his cheek. "You better. Dumbass."
Zoro jerked the hand away, bit gently into the wrist, eyes not leaving Sanji's. "Count on it," he said against the skin.
"I am." Sanji's serious look dissolved into the evilest of expressions. "You have no idea what you're getting yourself into, you stupid marimo. Unlike you, I actually have a lot of patience and self-control, and I happen to know what a build-up and a pleasure center is. You're the one who's about to learn something. Hell, you'll be begging for mercy before the hour's out."
"Feh, that will never happen."
Sanji went scrambling around the couch for the bottle. Zoro felt no trepidation whatsoever. This was going to be good. It'd have to be, to get him to plead and carry on like that. Which didn't seem likely, but now that Zoro had turned it into a dare, the damn cook would surely pull it off even if he had to compromise his future ability to have children to do so. This was going to be interesting...Zoro stretched out on the rug and, as an afterthought, gave a regretful glance up at the hatch. By the time they emerged, poor Chopper would be one large furry ball of utter mortification. Too bad. They'd find a way of making it up to him later.