When Sanji went to find Zoro’s lost ass, he hadn’t expected to find said ass being molested by a plant.
The Thousand Sunny had anchored off the small, unpopulated island several hours ago. The crew ferried over, split up, and traipsed off to explore. Dense with broad-leafed plants and tangled vines, the interior was humid and overgrown, broken by limestone ridges, shallow caves, and narrow streams running toward a pale sand beach. Bright-feathered birds called from the canopy, small lizards darted across sun-warmed rocks, and the undergrowth occasionally rustled as some unseen animal hurried away.
The plan was to meet back at the Sunny before dusk. Nami, in her infinite grace and wisdom, sent Sanji to hunt down Zoro well before the deadline. The sentient moss had disappeared into the interior within five minutes of making shore, not to be seen again by any of the crew. Nothing unusual there.
In a short-sleeved shirt and linen trousers in deference to the humidity, Sanji set off through the jungle. He followed what passed for a trail, ducking beneath low branches and stepping over roots that crossed the ground. Sweat gathered beneath his collar within minutes. The air smelled of damp earth, crushed leaves, and wet stone. Every so often he stopped to listen, hoping for the clash of steel, an irritated curse, or some other sign that Zoro had managed to pick a fight with the local wildlife.
He found a broken branch instead, then a swordsman-sized bootprint pressed into the damp soil beside a stream, indicating the direction he’d wandered.
Sanji followed the stream for a bit, then found another bootprint leading off in a random direction for no discernible reason. Pushing through a curtain of hanging vines and into thicker growth, he had to turn sideways between broad leaves and shoulder past broken branches crowding Zoro’s route. Overhead, birds traded shrill calls through the canopy. Insects buzzed around his ears, and once something small crashed through the brush several meters away before vanishing deeper into the jungle.
The ground began to slope upward, carrying him between two low limestone outcrops. The trees grew closer together there, their roots gripping exposed rock and forming uneven steps beneath his feet. Sanji climbed over them and kept going. Another bootprint appeared in a patch of soft earth beneath a stand of ferns. Then another, farther ahead.
He rounded the limestone outcrop and ducked beneath a tangle of vines hanging across the path. On the other side, he found the next print beside a cluster of unfamiliar plants. Most were low and leafy, crowded around the base of a fallen tree. One stood taller than the rest, crowned by a wide purple flower. Thick purple-red tendrils spilled from beneath its leaves and lay curled across the ground.
The rest of them held Zoro aloft and were having their merry way with him.
Suspended midair, Zoro had tendrils wrapped around his waist, legs, and arms. Two of his katanas were in his fists, but the tendrils had ensnared them, too. His trousers hung in tatters around his knees, exposing him to the humid air. Three fat tendrils were plunged into his ass, a fourth in his mouth. Another appeared to have penetrated his penis.
His eyes were closed, his head lax. His open blue shirt revealed a stomach distended from rib cage to pelvis. The tendrils pulsed visibly and rhythmically. A viscous substance leaked from everywhere he’d been penetrated and dripped onto the leaves below.
Sanji paused, stared, then leaned against the tree behind him and crossed his arms, a smirk spreading across his face. “Do you need help, or should I just enjoy the show?”
Zoro’s eyelids popped open, and he stared at Sanji for a moment. Then his eyes rolled back and he let out a familiar, wanton moan – and, nope. He was good.
Sanji wondered how long the plant had been fucking him. A few minutes? A few hours? His smile turned lascivious. He hoped the latter.
Glancing at the ground, he could see several severed tendrils, so Zoro had put up a fight before being captured. He spotted the third sword still in its sheath. Sanji looked over at the plant itself.
It rose several feet from the jungle floor, a dense collar of broad green leaves spreading around its base. From their center grew a thick, fleshy stalk topped by an enormous purple flower, its layered petals darkening toward the middle. Purplish-red tentacles emerged beneath the bloom and spilled outward in every direction, some thick as Sanji’s wrist and others narrow enough to coil tightly around a branch – or a limb. Several shifted slowly across the ground, curling and uncurling among the leaves. Sticky fluid gleamed along a few of them where shafts of sunlight broke through the canopy.
A low rumble of pleasure reached Sanji, and he looked at Zoro again. “Should I be jealous?”
One eyelid cracked open, and the cheeky fucker nodded slightly.
“Bastard,” Sanji said, but now he wished he could throw himself at the plant for his own fun. Then they’d both need to be rescued, and if Robin and Nami saw him in an indelicate state with their delicate eyes, he would die a thousand times over. Bad enough they knew what he and Zoro got up to behind closed doors.
Sanji sighed at his loss, then checked the time. They had nearly an hour before they should start heading back to the ship. Perfect.
He palmed himself through his trousers, settling in to watch the show. He’d been half hard since he’d spotted Zoro being fucked by the plant, and now he could indulge without remorse. He rubbed himself through the cloth until he thickened fully, then unbuckled and unzipped his trousers, freeing himself through the slit in his boxers.
The tentacles inside Zoro pulsed, growing thicker and releasing in a steady rhythm. The three in his ass stretched him wider than anything Sanji had achieved.
He’d have to up his game.
Sanji slicked his palm with spit, wrapped his fingers around his erection, and began a slow, lazy stroke. He eyed Zoro’s mouth, lips pulled thin, jaw open as far as it could go around the thick, pulsating purple-red tentacle. His neck bulged where the tentacle ended in his throat. That he could still breathe was the result of years of breath-control training and giving the best head.
Sanji’s gaze dropped to the tentacle that had wormed its way up Zoro’s penis. It pulsed, too, drooling viscous liquid around the stretched slit. It was stupidly hot, and since Zoro was happily being a fuck-puppet for this plant, it must feel good.
Something for him to keep in mind.
Their tumultuous love affair had started in Arlong Park with quick and dirty blowjobs in the shadows beyond the celebration – Zoro sprawled on his back to keep from aggravating his chest wound; Sanji sucking him off, then fucking his face until both of them were wholly satisfied. Fighting and fucking became their forte, and any opportunity to do either was great in both their books.
Sanji might – might – have caught some feelings for the green-haired brute. He knew Zoro had caught some. That worried voice over the snail while Sanji had been on the sea train spoke volumes. They’d spent the week waiting for Franky to finish their new ship being a lot more touchy-feely than their usual sexcapades. Lingering hands. Slow, savoring kisses after their bodies were already spent.
He hadn’t decided whether it bothered him, being with a scratching, belching meathead instead of a lovely, luscious lady. Zoro wasn’t the jealous type and didn’t care how much Sanji flirted and fawned. Sanji wasn’t jealous of Zoro because the only other thing he ever looked at with lust was swords.
And apparently plants.
Sanji watched with wicked amusement as Zoro’s head lolled and he made another sound of pleasure. Sanji stroked himself, his other hand slipping inside his boxers to tug lightly at his sac. He would never have thought this would be a kink for him – or Zoro – but here they were, and he was a thousand percent into it.
He added more spit to his palm and pulled more firmly, calluses scraping lightly against the swollen head. His eyelids lowered and his breathing quickened as pleasure tightened through him. His gaze never left the perverse tableau in front of him – Zoro suspended and fucked by a plant, those pulsating purplish tentacles plundering him deep. Pleasure built slowly, winding tighter through his body until his balls drew up and he came over his fist with a harsh exhale and a shudder.
Catching his breath, loose with satiation, Sanji pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, cleaned up, and tucked himself away. He drew out a cigarette, lit it, and enjoyed a post-climax smoke while the show went on.
When he finished, he stubbed out the butt against a rock, tucked it away, and straightened reluctantly. “Sorry, marimo. Going to have to end your fun now.”
Zoro made a sound of disappointment, which made Sanji’s lips twitch.
Sanji circled wide around the plant toward the fallen tree. He’d already formed half a plan when he’d first spotted Zoro. His newly gained ability to light his leg aflame was just what he needed to send this perverted plant up in smoke.
With a rapid spin, Sanji created enough friction to start the fire, then kicked the fallen tree hard. The old wood caught as it launched into the plant from behind. It slammed into the thick central stalk, crushing several leaves beneath its weight and scattering burning fragments across the purple bloom.
The plant convulsed. Its tentacles snapped inward all at once, writhing over one another as flames climbed the fleshy stalk and blackened the edges of its petals. Several tendrils thrashed against the ground, tearing leaves loose and smacking hard against the surrounding rocks. The central stalk buckled beneath the fallen tree. Purple petals shriveled in the flames, curling inward as smoke poured through the canopy.
Then the entire plant contracted sharply, dropping Zoro to the jungle floor.
Sanji quickly dragged him well away from the area, putting several meters of dense jungle between them and the burning plant. Behind them, leaves crackled and the scorched tendrils continued twitching against the ground.
Once they were safely clear, Sanji let go and stood over Zoro’s limp form. His distended abdomen rose between the open panels of his blue shirt. His lips and the slit of his penis were bright red. His katanas were still clenched in his hands.
Zoro cracked open his eyes, and a slow, stupid grin crossed his lips. “Think I’m pregnant,” he rasped through his abused throat.
Sanji rolled his eyes. “Get up, shitty swordsman. We need to head back.”
“Can’t feel my legs.”
Sanji studied him for a moment. “You hurt, or just too well fucked?”
A second stupid grin was his answer.
Sanji kicked him. “Bastard.”
But because Sanji was a good not-boyfriend-but-maybe, he removed Zoro’s shirt and tied it around his waist for some modesty – there would be ladies present, after all – then hoisted Zoro onto his back after the swordsman slid his katanas into their sheaths. “Next time, I get to have sex with the plant and you have to carry me.”
“Not if I find the plant first.”
Sanji considered drop-kicking Zoro back to the ship, but he was graciously magnanimous and lugged the dead weight through the jungle instead.
Zoro fell asleep less than a minute after Sanji started walking. His snores were loud enough to rival a sea train.
The trip back took longer burdened by nearly two hundred pounds of swordsman. Afternoon light had begun to turn gold by the time the ground leveled out, and the dense jungle gradually opened around them. The calls of seabirds replaced the harsher cries from deeper inland. Soon Sanji could hear waves breaking beyond the trees and smell salt beneath the heavy scent of vegetation.
They reached the shoreline, and Franky’s brows climbed toward his pompadour when Sanji stepped into the Mini Merry with Zoro hanging off his back. “Sword-bro okay?”
“He has a perpetual case of stupidity, but that can’t be cured,” Sanji replied glibly. “Just lost a fight with a plant and his pants.”
Zoro snuffled against Sanji’s neck, and Sanji pretended he wasn’t endeared.
Franky ferried them back to the Sunny. The late-afternoon sea rolled gently beneath the little craft, and the ship’s bright hull grew larger ahead of them. Half the crew was already aboard by the time they climbed up.
Sanji danced around excuses under the narrowed eyes of his sweet Nami-san.
“I don’t care that you two were screwing, since you’re back on time.”
He deposited Zoro in the bathroom with a new set of clothes and a kick to wake him up, then went down to the galley to start dinner.
By the time the sun reached the horizon, the Sunny was underway. The sails filled overhead as the island receded behind them, its jungle-covered ridges darkening beneath the evening sky until it became little more than a blip on the sea.
Five days later, Zoro pooped out a clutch of eggs with tiny plant buds waving their tentacles inside them.
Chopper hustled him off for emergency obstetrics.
Sanji may or may not have potted one of the buds down in storage.
End