Zoro hurt. A lot. Basically everywhere. Even his eyelashes hurt. But Zoro wasn't one to allow pain to stand in his way. Like now.
He pushed Sanji against the outer wall of the cottage, kissing him hot and messily. The shadow between buildings hid them from the lingering remains of the party. Garp had left, then last of the food was eaten, and the alcohol flowed freely amidst those still celebrating. The sounds of laughter and quiet music created a strange backdrop to their heated encounter, making the moment feel both secret and significant.
Sanji tasted like alcohol and spices, and breathed heavily against Zoro's lips. His long fingers gripped Zoro's hair as their mouths moved greedily against each other's. All day, the waiter had been slinging little barbs at Zoro. Each comment had been like a small cut, irritating and stinging, building tension between them that Zoro could no longer ignore. Then Sanji had said Zoro needed three swords to prove he was a man, all while serving dinner like he hadn’t just thrown a lit match onto dry grass. The cheeky grin that followed had been it for Zoro.
Zoro had planned to put him in his place. Show him exactly how much man Sanji was dealing with. The competitive fire between them had burned bright earlier, but now it had turned into something else entirely.
It took nothing to get Sanji between buildings, even less to make his intent known. Sanji just smirked infuriatingly again, and said, "Been hoping you'd pick up what I put down." His voice was low and confident, as if he'd been waiting for this moment all along.
It was maddening. He was maddening. And annoying. And devil-tongued. And capable. And strong. And pushed all of Zoro's buttons in the best and worst ways. The very qualities that drove Zoro insane about Sanji made this moment all the more intoxicating.
Zoro gripped the front of Sanji's shirt, pinning him against the wood. He slotted his thigh between Sanji's, pressing their lower bodies close. Zoro could feel Sanji's interest against his leg, as hard as his own. Zoro didn't know whether to rut against him, drop to his knees, or drop his trousers. Arousal clouded his head, but pain reminded him this could be over real fast in a bad way. Every muscle in his body screamed in protest, but he pushed through it, driven by desire and the need to prove something to Sanji – and perhaps to himself.
He opted for his knees, because it was the least movement and he wanted to taste more of Sanji. The decision was born from a place where pain and desire warred within him, each fighting for dominance over his actions. He worked the belt and zipper quickly, his fingers surprisingly steady despite the tremor of anticipation running through them. Freeing Sanji from his boxers felt like unwrapping a long-desired gift, one he hadn't even known he wanted until this moment. The flushed length wept at the tip, a single pearlescent bead that caught the faint light, evidence of Sanji's own desperate arousal.
Zoro licked his lips, a deliberate gesture that made Sanji's breath hitch, then leaned in to lick the head, savoring the first salty taste. The dirt was hard beneath Zoro's knees, the sharp edges of small stones and packed earth digging into his flesh through his trousers. He pulled Sanji into his mouth in one smooth motion, taking him deep, and Sanji cursed, a low, guttural sound that was more praise than profanity. His fingers tightened in Zoro's hair, the grip possessive and almost painful, but Zoro welcomed it, welcomed the sting as another sensation to focus on, another piece of this perfect, maddening moment.
With a little encouragement, Sanji was soon moving, and Zoro just got to enjoy. He closed his eyes, saliva pooling, curving down his chin as Sanji used him. Zoro drank in the musky smell, the length, the taste, relaxing his throat so Sanji could thrust fully in. He felt the sting of tears at the corners of his eyes, the bump of Sanji against the back of his throat. His lips stretched wide, jaw aching, tongue rubbing against the underside with every plunge into his mouth. The pain in his body faded into the background, replaced by the overwhelming sensations of Sanji's movements and sounds.
Different types of words fell from Sanji now. Praises. Curses. Nonsense babble. "Pretty like this... fuck, your mouth... want to– yes– take it..." His usual eloquence had dissolved into raw need, each word punctuated by his ragged breathing.
Zoro opened his eyes and saw Sanji wrecked above him through the teary blur – mouth agape, his brow furrowed, his eyes squeezed shut as if in prayer or agony. Fingers clenched in his hair, the grip so tight it was a sweet, grounding pain that anchored Zoro to the moment. The zipper bumped roughly against his chin with every inward plunge, a harsh, metallic friction against his skin that was a testament to Sanji's unraveling control. Sanji was hunched over him, his body forming a protective cage, pushing Zoro's head way back to an almost painful angle, punching into him with harsh, fast thrusts that stole the air from Zoro's lungs. It was perfect, just what Zoro needed, proving to Sanji he was man enough to take it. The power dynamics between them had shifted completely, and Zoro found himself reveling in his submission, in the way Sanji had lost control.
Sanji came with a sharp inhale and a shudder, spilling down Zoro's throat. The sudden heat and the raw, masculine taste sent a final jolt through Zoro's already overloaded senses. Zoro flicked open his trousers, gasped himself, and jerked a few times with a rough, urgent grip. It only took a few strokes before his eyes rolled back and he was coming hard, spattering on Sanji's shoes. The intensity of his orgasm caught him by surprise, waves of pleasure coursing through him despite his earlier pain. For a few precious moments, there was nothing but the blissful, pulsing release that left him boneless and breathless, slumped at Sanji’s feet as he struggled to remember his own name.
Sanji drew back, his spent length slipping from between Zoro's swollen lips. He cupped Zoro's face, keeping it tilted up as his thumb swept against Zoro's saliva drenched skin. "You're fucking perfect," he murmured, sounding punched out and awed. The tenderness in his voice was unexpected, a stark contrast to his earlier interactions.
"Man enough for you?" Zoro rasped, throat raw.
Sanji's laugh was soft and delighted. "Definitely."
"Good," Zoro grunted. He tucked himself away, then tried not to hiss as a wave of pain rolled over him. The adrenaline was fading, and every injury was making itself known again.
Sanji noticed, fixed his own trousers, then helped Zoro to his feet. "Though our next go, let's wait till you're not a bloody wreck." His concern was genuine, despite the teasing tone.
"Who said there's going to be another go?" Zoro challenged, even as he leaned into Sanji's support.
Sanji scoffed. "Please. You would've humped against my shoe if I'd let you." The smirk returned to his face, infuriating and endearing all at once.
Zoro thought about it – and yeah, probably. "Doesn't mean I like you."
"Guess I'll have to keep working on that," Sanji said cheekily.
Zoro huffed quietly. Somehow, he knew Sanji's little barbs were only going to get worse.
Good thing Zoro kinda liked them.
End