Sanji kicked the hatch shut over the ladder in the Crow’s Nest and set the nearby dumbbell on top of it to keep from being disturbed. The circular Crow’s Nest doubled as Zoro’s training room. It had a metal carpeting, a barbell stand with a variety of bars and weights hanging from it, a rack full of dumbbells, and a weight bench. A meditation cushion sat behind the barbell stand. A towel rack held two towels and a locker where Zoro kept his training-related items, such as tape, bands, and straps, as well as random sex toys, stood flush against a wall. The Crow’s Nest had a curved bench that ran beneath the lookout windows in the room. A telescope, binoculars, and loudspeaker microphone stood at the ready for anyone on watch.
Zoro set his barbell down, which he had been doing curls with, when Sanji had entered the Crow’s Nest. He was dressed in only his trousers and a pair of boots. Sweat glistened on his chest, back, and forehead. The windows of the Crow’s Nest were open, creating a cross breeze. Voices from their crewmates floated up from below.
Sanji deposited the bottle of sake he was holding onto one of the benches. He set his pack of cigarettes and lighter near the ashtray perched on the back of the bench. He was dressed down, in an oversized gold-colored hooded sweatshirt and a pair of wine-colored shorts that went to his knees. He wore sandals instead of his usual shoes.
Sanji glanced out the window, across the open expanse of water aft of the Thousand Sunny. They’d left Kubiashi Island two days ago, heading to their next destination on their search for the last Road Poneglyph. Kubiashi Island had been a headache with a maze at the center, too many carnivorous plants, and a false treasure that left Nami sobbing. Sanji had been glad to set sail from that island, putting the annoyances behind them.
Clouds were gathering in the distance, dark and foreboding. A news bird flew past the ship, its distinctive cap visible from where Sanji stood. Despite the spring climate, it felt like it was winter to him, cold and bitter. Sanji felt chilled to the bone. Below, he could see Robin glancing his direction through the open window. He couldn’t find it in himself to react to her. He heard Zoro set his barbell on the rack, his rep set done. Sanji turned to face him. “I want you to fuck my throat roughly until I’m unconscious, then fill my ass with cum repeatedly until I say otherwise.”
Zoro’s brows climbed, studying Sanji. “Something up? You usually aren’t interested in sex in the middle of the afternoon.”
Sanji scowled. He didn’t want disobedience. Not now. “If I wanted you to talk, I would’ve told you. Unless you have a safe word to say, shut up and fuck me.”
Zoro appeared taken aback, but then he nodded and fetched his towel. Sanji kicked off his sandals, went over to the weight bench, and laid back on it. He draped his head off the end, his blond hair hanging toward the floor, both eyes visible, his neck fully exposed. He watched Zoro upside down as Zoro toweled off his face and chest before coming over to the bench. Sanji licked his lips as Zoro pushed his trousers down to his knees, revealing his massive cock with a gold hoop piercing the tip.
Zoro stroked himself to hardness, making the length grow exponentially. It was nearly down to his knees. It was Zoro’s best feature and it made Sanji salivate automatically. He wasn’t in an appreciative mood, though. He felt like he’d stayed too long in his sickening skin. He opened his mouth wide as Zoro stepped forward. He closed his eyes at the feel of Zoro’s fat cockehad against his lips. He swallowed one last time before Zoro pushed into his mouth, stretching his lips to the breaking point that would never occur. Zoro pressed steadily forward, filling Sanji’s mouth completely. Sanji relaxed his throat as Zoro continued to slide in, deeper and deeper, still going excruciatingly slow.
He felt Zoro’s hand on his neck, monitoring the bulge as Zoro’s erection pierced his throat. His breath had already been cut off. He knew Zoro wouldn’t just hold it there, though. He’d told Zoro to fuck his throat, not choke him with the massive prick. He only needed to wait.
Laughter floated through the windows. The Sunny bounced on the waves. Zoro set his stance and began fucking Sanji’s throat with long, full stabs. Sanji caught his breath on the draw back, lost it on the thrust. He ignored his hard-on straining against his shorts. He didn’t want to feel pleasure right now. He wanted to feel pain.
Zoro sped up his pace. The piercing scraped roughly against the thin walls of Sanji’s throat, down into his upper chest. Sanji’s jaw came nearly unhinged as Zoro’s thick cock punched back and forth in his wide open mouth. The top of Zoro’s shaft rubbed repeatedly against his tongue. The bulbous head barely left Sanji’s throat before it was plunging down again.
Sanji felt Zoro’s balls smacking him in the forehead, smelled the heavy scent of sweat and musk with each stuttered inhale through his nose. Zoro fucked his face in earnest now, repeatedly cutting off Sanji’s breath, the super-short reprieve when the Zoro’s cock left his throat causing a panicked feel of oxygen starvation more than being choked-out would. The scrape of Zoro’s piercing, the thickness of his cock, the depth that he plunged hurt Sanji in the way that he craved. It was painful, it was brutal, it was perfect.
Sanji wanted to forget today that his body had been genetically modified. He wanted to forget that, while he could feel the temperature and the sting of electric current, he couldn’t feel much of anything else negative anymore. And he liked pain, like its sharpness, like the way it made him feel alive. The acute agony of injury reminded him that he’d survived whatever had been thrown at him. But now, that had been almost fully taken away. And it was devastating.
He’d thought he’d adjusted to it. Thought he’d made peace enough with his body, his sense of self-worth, his shitty past. But then today happened. It had started with an accident in the galley, a large pot of boiling hot water spilling over his stomach, crotch, and upper thighs after Luffy had careened into him in search of food. It hadn’t hurt at all. Hadn’t burned him. Hadn’t even singed his pubic hair. It had only felt hot and wet.
After changing into a dry suit, he’d dissolved into a self-destructive spiral. He went down to the storage room, where they kept random weapons taken from other pirates and marines, and systematically began trying to injure himself with them. Swords broke, knives crumpled, the pistol to his temple flattened the bullet. He’d used spiked maces, a leather whip. He tried to blow himself up with a grenade, lying with it beneath his belly. The resulting explosion had lifted him off the floor and left a blackened mark in the Adam’s wood.
Franky had come running then and Sanji made excuses before returning to the men’s quarters to change out of his destroyed suit. His stomach was unblemished, as was the rest of him. After putting on another suit, he ventured to the cleaning supplies and began reading labels. How much poison could he drink before it did any permanent damage? He knew his rapid healing factor would counter it swiftly. He could probably find acid in Franky or Usopp’s workshops. Would he get to feel the pain of his esophagus and stomach dissolving before his genetics kicked in?
Chopper was the one to stop him, being sent by Franky to check on him to make sure he hadn’t gotten hurt. Sanji reassured Chopper that he was physically fine, pretended that he hadn’t been trying to kill himself, and retreated again to the men’s quarters. He switched his suit for the clothes he had on now, threw together a cold, buffet-style dinner to leave out, and opted to find his pain through rough sex instead.
The fact that Sanji could feel the ripping of his throat with the piercing as Zoro fucked his face was everything he’d needed. The exoskeleton covered the interior of his mouth, but didn’t descend much past the back barrier of his throat. His ass was more protected, which sucked. While he couldn’t feel the stretch and burn of being fucked, he could still feel his insides being rearranged and the cock piercing scraping his rectum. But he needed to be fucked repeatedly for it to feel painful.
Sanji was lucky he had Zoro to abuse him like he wanted, without question. The gorgeous bitch was at his command. Sanji got to do whatever dark, kinky thing he wanted to do with that beautifully muscular body and Zoro begged for more. He’d yet to hear their safe word, no matter what they’d done or who else became involved. Zoro seemed to have no limits and it made Sanji’s black, deviant heart joyous. Zoro was everything Sanji would have hoped for in a male sex partner and he didn’t want to let that go.
Zoro fucked Sanji’s face punishingly, ramming mercilessly, no longer giving Sanji the ability to breathe. Sanji’s chest tightened with a painful burn, his heart thudding hard against his breastbone. His eyes flew open and began to struggle as black spots encroached on his vision. Zoro’s thighs began to blur as Sanji ran out of oxygen. His arms fell limply off the sides of the weight bench and his thoughts shut down as he slipped into unconsciousness.
Sanji stirred back to consciousness a blissful amount of time later. When he dropped, he tended to be out a while, unlike Zoro who usually returned to consciousness within a few minutes. Sanji could feel Zoro pounding into his ass, his body rocking on the weight bench, the hoodie he wore rucked up beneath his back. His shorts were gone. Sweat pooled beneath his lower back. His bare ankles were crossed, legs lifted straight up, resting against Zoro’s chest and one shoulder. Zoro’s huge dick was slamming repeatedly into him, cock piercing scraping against his inner walls with every thrust. His ass was wide open and it felt like Zoro’s cock was punching him all the way up to his stomach. Sanji wanted to return to consciousness like this from now on.
Sanji opened his eyes, his head now resting on the weight bench instead of hanging off the end. His hair was an untidy mess, tangled around his face. He could see Zoro clearly with both eyes. Zoro’s expression was twisted with concentration, focused on his own pleasure. Sweat coursed down his chest from exertion. The ocean breeze brought with it the scent of salt, mixing with the heavy scent of sex in the air.
“How many times?” Sanji asked with a rasp. His throat was still destroyed. It would linger for a few glorious, agonizing hours before it healed itself.
Zoro’s gaze snapped to his, but he didn’t stop fucking Sanji. His own tone was tense, on the edge of climax. “Twice. Nearly at the third.”
“Hn,” Sanji hummed, pleased that Zoro had complied. Zoro could have stopped when Sanji was out of it, only pushing into him when Sanji started to stir. “Good pet.”
He watched Zoro continue to fuck him through heavy-lidded eyes, body lax, allowing the pain of his throat wash through him. The fuck wasn’t doing much for him yet. It was too soon for it to feel like the piercing was doing anything. He wished it wasn’t like this. He wished it hurt to the point of tears. Some of his darkest fantasies involved being gang raped by men with cocks the size of Zoro’s, of being double-fisted and torn open, being plugged by something so huge he wouldn’t be able to walk. He didn’t want it to last forever, didn’t want to be a sex slave. He had other dreams, other wants, other desires. But for a day or two, he’d be in ecstasy. However, it wasn’t to be.
Sanji heard Zoro’s breath catch, saw the cords of muscle in Zoro’s neck stand out, watched as his face reddened as climax hit him. Zoro pounded a couple more times before thrusting deep, his pelvis flush against Sanji’s ass. Sanji felt the pulse of Zoro’s cock inside him as Zoro spilled his seed to join the rest of the mess coating Sanji’s insides. Three times full. He still wanted more.
He waited for Zoro to recover, waited silently for Zoro to continue. Zoro watched Sanji now with a weighted gaze. Sanji didn’t give him anything, no commands to stop, no urging on. Sanji wanted to be used like a fuck-puppet without further input. He’d already told Zoro what to do. It was up to Zoro to either say the safe word or comply.
A couple minutes of silence, and Zoro’s refractory period came to an end. He began to fuck Sanji once more, sliding his huge cock in and out of Sanji’s hole. He’d get to the rim, beneath the ridge of the thick, mushroomed head before plunging back inside. His thigh muscles bunched and shifted as he continued to undertake a different form of exercise.
Sanji shifted on the weight bench, crunching his abdomen, yanking off his hoodie over his head. He dropped it onto the floor. Sweat coated his chest and back, the odor of perspiration strong from being trapped in the hoodie with the heat. He laid back on the bench, feeling it stick to his bare back. He laid one hand on his stomach, the other to his groin where his cock had hardened. It lay against his lower belly in the nest of dark blond curls.
He wrapped his fingers around himself, toying absently as Zoro fucked him. He swallowed, and the razored pain from the action speared through him. The lovely agony in his throat made his thoughts hazy. He should get Zoro to do this more often, remind him more regularly that he could still feel that sharp edge to living, even if this was the only way.
Zoro’s hips smacked against Sanji’s ass, the lube making a wet, squelching sound as his cock drove back and forth into Sanji. Sanji let his gaze drift past Zoro’s shoulder to focus outside the open window. The foreboding, dark clouds seemed to be holding in the distance. He saw a V of a flock of birds fly past. He heard Luffy’s cackle and Usopp and Chopper’s screams. Nami’s shouting erupted a beat later.
Sanji began pulling on his lazily erection. Zoro’s large, meaty cock continued to hammer at his insides. The piercing scraped along his inner walls, past his inner sphincter, starting to hurt now. It was what he’d been hoping for, by having Zoro fuck him practically nonstop. There was pleasure to be found in the pain and Sanji gave himself over to it now.
Zoro fucked him steadily, arms wrapped snuggly around Sanji’s raised legs, a glazed expression on his face. He went at it for a while, a fourth consecutive orgasm taking a long time to build again. Sanji revelled in the feeling of the drawn-out fuck, taking his own sweet time masturbating to the beautifully abusive sensation. Zoro was so big, so long, with so much girth, that Sanji was always surprised he wasn’t bleeding out. But he couldn’t do that anymore, could he? If it weren’t for the piercing’s constant rub in the same spots, Sanji would only be feeling the internal pleasure of being well fucked.
He still wasn’t completely free of the desire to hurt himself, to see if he could still feel, but he allowed himself to tumble into his own orgasm when finally felt Zoro pulsing in his ass again. Ropey strands of cum splattered across Sanji’s stomach and over his fist. He swallowed dryly again, causing agonized tears to come to the corners of his eyes. His throat hurt terribly. It was ecstasy.
He closed his eyes, lying bonelessly on the bench, Zoro supporting his legs. Zoro was unmoving, in another refractory period. Sanji wanted to sink into oblivion again. To be used while he was unconscious, a sex doll without any will or tormented thoughts. But he was too alert to fall asleep. Zoro would have to smother him.
“Don’t remove your cock. Use your hands to to smother me back into unconsciousness, then continue fucking me like I told you to,” Sanji rasped.
Zoro didn’t move immediately, causing Sanji to open his eyes. A worried expression creased Zoro’s face. Sanji’s voice was sharp, even if it was in a rasp. “Not interested in your caring, shithead. Be a good little bitch and do as you’re told.”
Zoro reared back slightly and then he looked quickly away from Sanji. Sanji could practically see the cogs turning in Zoro’s brain. Sanji hoped beyond hope that Zoro wouldn’t decide to use the safe word now. He didn’t think he could handle it. Part of him still wanted to drink bleach.
Zoro appeared to come to a decision. He exhaled slowly and turned his head to look at Sanji again. He shifted Sanji’s legs on his shoulders, putting one on either side, before bending over Sanji, pressing Sanji’s legs back. Zoro then did something shocking, kissing Sanji gently on the lips before putting one hand over his mouth and using the other to pinch his nostrils shut. Sanji stared at Zoro, wide-eyed, over the top of Zoro’s hand. He hadn’t taken a deep breath before Zoro acted and he was out of air quickly. The burning in his lungs took hold. He kept Zoro’s surprisingly pained gaze until it blurred. Darkness came upon him in a slow, rolling wave and he passed out.
When Sanji came to for the second time, Zoro was fucking him infinitely slowly, almost absently, as if his mind were somewhere else. Sanji imagined Zoro’s cock was chafed by now, and aching, even with the lube.
“How many?” Sanji murmured, not bothering to open his eyes.
“Seven, though I don’t think I’m giving you anything anymore.”
Sanji wished he could actually feel seven loads filling his ass. He wouldn’t until he stood up and it flowed back out of his body, down his thighs. His throat still hurt gloriously. His ass finally felt like he’d been rubbed raw. The pain would last him for a couple hours, more if he was lucky.
“One more, than you can stop,” Sanji directed with his shredded voice, because he was a sadist and a masochist. He kept his eyes closed, still wanting to just feel.
The last fuck went on for a very long time. The sky darkened beyond Sanji’s closed eyes, the Crow’s Nest growing dim. Sanji floated on a cloud of pain, finally feeling settled again. For now, he could deal with the unwanted body modifications. He could push aside his past and get through his days without hating himself completely. He could enjoy the companionship of his crew, the happiness that came with cooking, and the perversions he adored doing with Zoro. For now, he no longer wanted to die.
Zoro climaxed with a stutter of breath and a shallow pulse inside Sanji. Sanji opened his eyes as Zoro pressed his cheek against Sanji’s ankle, his own eye closed, gathering himself together again. Sanji had the urge to thank him, to tell him how he’d helped, but the words stuck in his torn up throat.
Zoro pulled out of Sanji and lowered his legs to either side of the weight bench. Sanji immediately felt very empty. He didn’t want to gush all over his thighs or his shorts on the way to shower. “Grab a plug. Put it in me.”
Zoro tugged up his trousers, his spent cock looking reddened and raw. He nodded, went to his locker, and dug through their big box they kept in the bottom. He found an anal plug with a flared base, brought it over, and slid it into Sanji’s lubed ass.
Sanji slowly sat up and brushed his hair back into place. He was hungry and Zoro was likely starving from the extended cardio. Parched, too. He was glad he’d put out dinner earlier for the crew. Hopefully, Luffy hadn’t eaten it all himself.
He got up, and he was surprised that it actually felt painful to walk. It was fantastic. Maybe something had torn beyond his inner sphincter due to the piercing. He would have to remember how to achieve it. He found his shorts, pulled them on, and then his hoodie. He stuffed his feet into his sandals. “I’m going to make us some food. Join me when you’re ready,” he said with a throat-torn whisper.
Zoro nodded again, walking over to the bench where Sanji had put the bottle of sake. Sanji grabbed his cigarettes, lit one, then stuffed the pack and the lighter in his pocket. He shifted the barbell off the hatch door, then left the Crow’s Nest.
Night surrounded him, the deck empty, the crew inside somewhere doing evening activities. Sanji headed up to the galley. He could see a light on through the porthole window. Stepping through the door, he spotted Robin sitting at the table, drinking coffee and reading an oversized book. She glanced up and graced him with a small smile. “Sanji-san.”
“Robin-chan, it is always a pleasure to see your beautiful face,” Sanji rasped, nearly falling over when he twirled. His ass seriously hurt. At least the plug had prevented embarrassing leakage. “Can I get you anything else? More coffee? A snack? You did eat dinner, correct?”
“Yes, we ate,” Robin said. “I saw you in the Crow’s Nest, after I spoke with Franky. I thought you might be occupied for the evening and came to see if you had left anything, and you had. Do not worry, I contained Luffy until everyone had their plates filled.”
“Thank you, Robin-chan. You are dear that I do not deserve to have in my life,” Sanji said, even though embarrassment washed over him. Everyone knew that he and Zoro fucked each other, but it was still mortifying to have it pointed out. That Franky had spoken to her about what had happened in the hold, even though Sanji had told a lie about it, discomfited him.
Robin studied him, which added to his discomfort. He hobbled into the kitchen, putting the bar between them, taking a nerve-soothing drag on his cigarette. The galley on the Sunny held a large dining table with seating for eight, a couch that stretched between the infirmary and the main deck, and a bar that separated the kitchen from the dining area. The kitchen had everything Sanji could want, from a four-burning stovetop, a double oven, large refrigerator, and plenty of cabinet and prep space.
Sanji used the lock code to open the refrigerator, to remove items for making sandwiches for himself and Zoro. The dinner he’d left out for the crew had been cleaned up, the kitchen left spotless, likely Robin’s doing.
“I hope Zoro-san helped with whatever might have been bothering you,” Robin said, sipping her coffee.
Sanji’s defenses flew up, and he deflected with gushing flattery in his wrecked voice. “Nothing can bother me, Robin-chan, when I am in your radiant presence! The flower of your beauty fills my senses with joy!”
Robin set her cup down. “Sanji-san, as lovely as your admiration is, you are in a relationship. Do you not think it is inappropriate to use such words with me?”
“I’m not in a relationship,” Sanji said, confused by her words. Did she not want him to complement her anymore?
Robin’s head tilted. “Then what do you call what you are doing with Zoro-san?”
“Not a relationship,” Sanji said, turning his attention back to making sandwiches. As much as he enjoyed doing things with Zoro, there wasn’t any romance involved. Even if, secretly, deep down, he wanted something else, something edgier, darker, something more permanent. “Friends with benefits, at most.” Movement caught the corner of his eye and he glanced over to see the galley door closing. He frowned.
“Hm.” Robin glanced from the door to Sanji, picked up her cup, and stood. She closed her book and tucked it under her arm. “If that is all you believe it is, I am sorry.”
Sanji stared after her as she left the galley. What had she meant by that? He shook it off. He didn’t want to go back to having deep thoughts, not today. He fixed two sandwiches, poured two large glasses of water, and brought them over to the table. He set Zoro’s at the spot he usually sat at and took a different seat. He wondered what was taking Zoro so long.
He glanced over at the door again. Maybe Zoro had been the one to move it, but left when he saw Robin. It seemed weird that he wouldn’t come in, though. Everyone who remembered the drunken orgy – Robin, Franky, Brook, Zoro, and Sanji – had a tacit agreement not to talk about it. Sanji’s recollection was missing chunks, but not enough that he couldn’t enjoy remembering it while jerking off.
Sanji waited for Zoro to either come back or come in. Part of aftercare was ensuring that Zoro was tended to physically, via food, drink, showering, and tending to any wounds. Sanji wasn’t going to slack off on that. It wasn’t right. He might’ve been the one to get messed up during their session, but he was still the one in control. And after what Zoro had done for him, Zoro deserved it.
Five minutes passed. Ten. Sanji stabbed out his second cigarette. At fifteen minutes, Sanji ate his sandwich and drank his water. At twenty-five minutes he washed his dishes. When it reached the forty-minute mark, he picked up the plate and glass and went searching for Zoro.
There was no light in the Crow’s Nest, and a quick check in the men’s quarters showed Zoro’s bunk was empty. Half his nakama were playing a game at the sunken sofa and table in the room, but he brushed off their invitation to join. Nami was in the Aquarium Bar, and Robin had joined her, but both said they hadn’t seen Zoro. He thanked them and apologized profusely for bothering their precious time before continuing on his search. He was starting to get pissed off. He’d told Zoro to come to the galley. Why hadn’t the idiot done so?
Sanji checked the main deck toilet, the outside decks, the infirmary, the library and bathroom. Sanji debated on getting cleaned up while he was in the bathroom, but his annoyance had a hint of concern attached to it. Did the moron get lost? Usually Zoro could find his way around the ship without problems.
Having searched the upper decks, minus the women’s quarters but Zoro wouldn’t dare set foot in there without permission, Sanji headed below. He found Zoro the second place he checked, in Franky’s workshop with Franky. Franky’s workshop was nestled in the aft corner of the ship. It was a metal room, with a furnace, scrap metal, tools, a large set of pull-drawer cabinets, and a drawing table with chair. Franky was showing Zoro one of his new designs when Sanji came into the room.
“Here you are.” Sanji was annoyed again. Traipsing all over the ship while sore with a plug in his ass would have been enjoyable if it wasn’t in search of the man who ignored his aftercare. “I told you to come to the galley. I was making food.”
Zoro looked over at him with a blank face and simply stated, “Eirik.”
Sanji pulled up short. Why was Zoro saying the safe word? They weren’t doing anything. Sanji had made Zoro food.
Franky glanced between them and set his plans down on his desk. “Seems like you bros have something to discuss. I’m going to go and see what my lady is doing.”
“We don’t have anything to talk about,” Zoro told Franky, turning his back to Sanji and the door. “Tell me more about your plans.”
Sanji felt like he’d been slapped. He stared at Zoro’s back uncomprehendingly.
Franky looked between them again. “Nah, bro. I’m gonna escape whatever this is.” He vanished swiftly from the room, despite his bulk.
Zoro didn’t turn around. Sanji continued to stare at Zoro’s back. “I… what is this?” he asked, confused. His voice was still a wreck from the throat-fuck. “Why did you say the safe word?”
“Because I’m done.” Zoro went over to Franky’s desk and began leafing through the pages on it. He didn’t say anything else.
Sanji frowned. “Well, yeah, pretty much, except for the aftercare.”
“No. I mean I’m done. I’m not doing this with you anymore.”
Sanji was taken aback. What the fuck? “What do you mean?”
“It means we’re not having sex anymore,” Zoro stated bluntly, his back still to Sanji.
Now, Sanji was very confused. There was also a sickening feeling churning in his stomach. “You want to end things?”
“Yeah.” Zoro moved some papers around again. “Not like it means anything, right? It’s just sex, and my dick’s had enough after today.”
Sanji tried to wrap his mind around this sudden change. He thought they were getting along fine, enjoying themselves. “Um, did you not like it? You didn’t say anything when we were in the Crow’s Nest.”
Zoro shrugged. “Not particularly.”
The sick feeling grew. “Is… is there anything I can do? To fix it?”
“No.” Zoro picked up one page, studied it, and put it down again, back still to Sanji. “I’m not much interested in a worthless fuck.”
All the air left Sanji in a rush. He felt like he’d been punched in the solar plexus. Except he really couldn’t feel that anymore, could he? His body was an abomination. And Zoro had just called him worthless.
He felt like he was sinking, being pulled down by the undertow. The pain in his throat, his ass, the sharp savior was nothing more than a huckster in false robes. He wasn’t alive. He was an experiment. A worthless one.
Part of Sanji tried to claw for solid ground. “I can do better. Be better.”
Zoro sighed. “I said Eirik, cook.”
Sanji went numb. The churning in his stomach, the ache in his chest, the desperation to stay afloat disappeared into nothing. He was nothing. Dead. He set the plate and glass on the floor, looked listlessly at Zoro’s back one last time, and left Franky’s workshop.
He went upstairs, to the bathroom. He disposed of the plug in the trash, used the toilet, and took a shower. He paid extra care in washing his hair and cleaning under his nails. He shaved, afterward, using the sink outside the bathroom where he kept his extra kit. He neatened his goatee, trimmed his mustache, and put on an aftershave. He combed his hair, taking the extra time to get it to lay exactly right.
He returned downstairs, went to the men’s room. The game players were laughing, shouting at one another, static in his ears. He opened his locker, took out his favorite suit. He changed into it, straightening the line of his shirt to perfectly match the lay of his trousers. He buttoned his suit coat, neatened his tie, adjusted the cuffs. He slipped into his polished dress shoes that he rarely wore. He took his cigarettes and lighter from his shorts, set them in the locker, and closed it again.
He walked from the men’s quarters, across the deck, up the steps and around the back of the galley. The Sunny’s wake arrowed from the ship as the wind buffeted the sails. He stared out into the darkness beyond. Lightning flashed in the distance from the encroaching storm. He lifted one foot, then the other, pulling off his shoes. He set them neatly beside the rail, toes aligned. He climbed onto the rail itself, balancing easily.
Then, he let go.
It was better this way.
Someone dove in after him before he even hit the water. Three swords glinted in the moonlight. Zoro.
Frigid darkness welcomed him into its deadly embrace. But Zoro was already there, ripping him from its grip. He was grabbed roughly around the chest and yanked unwillingly to the surface. He heard shouting, saw more people on the aft deck as he was forcibly thrust above the water. Usopp, yelling that he knew he’d sensed something bad. Chopper, crying for a doctor. Brook, shouting for the girls. Luffy, stretching his arms toward them, trying to reach. Jinbe, diving in as well.
Zoro tread water, keeping Sanji above the surface. “I got you. I’ve got you, cook.”
“Let me go,” Sanji pleaded softly.
“Never.”
Then, Jinbe was there, clasping onto Zoro, who still held Sanji. The Fish-man cut easily through the water, swimming them back to the fast moving ship. Luffy took Sanji, Robin helped Jinbe and Zoro. Nami came running around the corner with towels.
Sanji sat on the crowded aft deck, shivering from the cold. He stared at the wood between his raised knees. Chopper draped a towel around his shoulders, asking what happened.
“Sea king,” Zoro spoke up. A lie. “Saw it knock him off while he was having a cigarette.”
“But Sanji had good observation haki,” Luffy said, confused.
“We had a fight,” Zoro said. “He was probably distracted.”
“I’m going to take you to the infirmary and check you over,” Chopper said.
Sanji said nothing. He pushed to his bare feet, towel hanging around his neck and shoulders. He kept his chin down as he followed Chopper to the infirmary. His dress shoes were still lined neatly beneath the rail.
The infirmary was small, with an adjustable bed, a desk, a swivel chair, medical storage cabinets, and a place to hang IV bags. One door led to the galley, the second led to the aft deck. Chopper made him strip off his wet clothes, poked and prodded him, and wailed in horror when he saw the back of Sanji’s throat. He demanded to know what happened. Sanji willed himself to speak. “Sex.”
Then, Chopper was railing, making him lie down, using a speculum on him. Sanji tuned out the lecture. When Chopper was done examining him, he sat up again, sitting sideways on the bed. He finally said, “I’ll heal in another hour or so. Nothing matters.”
A head poked into the infirmary door. Zoro. “I brought some clothes.”
“You!” Chopper rounded on Zoro with a viciousness that would be surprising to anyone who didn’t know him. He launched into a tirade until Zoro interrupted him bluntly.
“It’s consensual, and not your business unless we choose to make it so.”
Chopper deflated. “I know. I’ve seen you after some of your, uh, dates. I just want to make sure you’re being safe.”
“We are,” Zoro promised.
Chopper sighed. “Sanji, make sure you tell me if you’re still hurting in a few days.”
“Okay.” Sanji continued staring at his bare knees as he had been for the entire conversation. A sheet covered his lap.
“Does he need anything else?” Zoro asked.
“A hot bath and some hot tea,” Chopper said. “You could both use it, after being in the cold water.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Zoro said. “Why don’t you go back to whatever you were doing? We’re fine here.”
Chopper agreed after one last warning hoof-wag at them both and toddled off, leaving Zoro and Sanji alone in the infirmary. Zoro closed the door between the galley and the infirmary. The silence was stifling.
Zoro approached Sanji. The clothes he had brought, the hoodie and shorts Sanji had been wearing earlier, were placed beside Sanji on the bed. Zoro moved into Sanji’s space, pushing between Sanji’s bare knees, drawing Sanji’s eyes upward. Zoro still wore no shirt, though he’d changed his trousers into dry ones.
Zoro placed his hand around the back of Sanji’s neck, pulling Sanji’s face against his bare chest. Sanji could hear Zoro’s heartbeat beneath his ear, a steady thub-dub that seeped into Sanji psyche. He stood holding Sanji like that, silently, his thumb stroking the nape of Sanji’s neck beneath his hair.
“How did you know?” Sanji eventually asked, voice quiet, tone subdued.
“Saw you go behind the galley when I was bringing my dishes up. Thought we should talk again and came out through Chopper’s door just in time to see you freefall off the rail.” Zoro’s heartbeat sped up. “It terrified me.”
Sanji couldn’t muster up the strength to apologize. “Don’t know why you care.”
“Are you shitting me right now?” Zoro’s hand tightened against the back of Sanji’s neck. “Do you know what losing you would do to me? Do to the crew?”
Sanji hadn’t thought about it. He hadn’t thought about much. He’d been dead inside. “You broke things off.” Called him worthless.
“Consider things unbroken.” Zoro took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I knew something was wrong today and I didn’t say anything. I thought by giving you what you wanted, it would be okay.”
“It had been,” Sanji mumbled. “You made me feel again.”
Zoro brought his other hand up to card gently through the back of Sanji’s damp hair. “What happened, then? What brought this on? Was there something else I could have done?”
Sanji went quiet for a moment, not wanting to talk about it. But he didn’t want Zoro to blame himself. “My body got to me today.”
Zoro kept stroking his hair, his other hand still and warm against the nape of his neck. “The modifications?” Sanji nodded against Zoro’s chest. “You hate them that much?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Sanji pressed his cheek harder against Zoro’s chest, feeling the warmth, hearing his heart beating steadily, assuredly again. “Because every day I am reminded that I am a Vinsmoke and I can never escape.”
Zoro’s fingers soothed him. “They were that bad to you?”
Vivid memories returned of being locked in the dungeon, trapped in a mask, left alone to suffer until his brothers found him. The daily beatings, the verbal abuse, the excruciating tests of his non-existent physical abilities. Being forced to go back to Germa, anchored at Whole Cake Island, as a pawn in his father’s game, the unholy beating he received at the hands of his adult brothers, having everything he’d tried to put behind him yanked forcibly to the surface to torture him again. Being told again and again that he was worthless, a failure.
“Yes.” The word was spoken in a broken whisper. He felt the sting of tears behind his closed eyelids.
“Did I…,” Zoro paused, took a shaky breath, went on, “...did I say or do something to make it worse?”
A tear escaped, coursing down Sanji’s cheek to wet Zoro’s skin. “Worthless. You said I was a worthless fuck.”
“Shit, no. No.” Zoro held Sanji’s cheek tighter against him. “You are not worthless. You are everything. Everything. What I said- what I meant is that I didn’t want it to be meaningless. I didn’t want what we did to just be only sex. I heard you telling Robin that we didn’t have a relationship and it hurt. That’s why I broke things off. That’s why I said what I did. But in no way do I think that you are worthless.”
Sanji’s heart felt like it was crushed beneath infinite despair, even as Zoro tried to reassure him. A sob escaped from his throat. “I hate myself,” he confessed raggedly. “Sometimes I hate myself so fucking much.”
“Ah, my dom, I’ve got you. I’ve still got you.” Zoro bent over Sanji’s head, still pressed against his chest, one hand dropping to curve around Sanji’s shoulders, the other still tangled in his hair. He held Sanji close, as Sanji dissolved into wracking sobs. Zoro made quiet, soothing sounds, hums and murmured words of reassurance. Of caring. Of love.
Sanji wound down after what felt like an eternity, completely drained, emotionally spent. Zoro’s stomach was coated with tears and snot, and yet Zoro still held him, still offered him the comfort that he couldn’t offer himself. He swallowed past the lump that had settled in his throat and the frisson of pain that lingered from Zoro’s cock reminded him that he could be grounded, that he could still feel alive.
He brought his hands up, wrapped them in the waistband of Zoro’s trousers, tugged lightly. “Fuck my throat again. Make me feel it. Please.”
Zoro made a pained sound. “I don’t want to say the safe word, but I don’t think it’s what you need right now.”
“Zoro… please.”
Zoro drew back, tilted Sanji’s chin up with a finger. His own face was creased with distress, sadness. He bent down to kiss Sanji gently on the mouth, leaving his lips to linger. The softness, the tenderness, lit a small spark of life in Sanji. No one had ever kissed him like this, with devotion, and this was the second time Zoro was doing it today.
Zoro pulled back, pressed another kiss on Sanji’s forehead, and straightened. He held out his hand. “Let’s go up to the bath.”
Sanji slid his hand into Zoro’s, getting to his feet. Zoro gathered Sanji’s clothing and together they slipped out the back door of the infirmary. Sanji looked at the spot where he’d stood, where he’d let himself fall. His shoes were still lined against the rail.
Zoro prompted Sanji up before him, and they ascended to the library and then up to the bathroom. The bathroom on the Sunny was divided by a wall, separating the bathing area from the changing area and water closet. A sink stood beside the water closet door. Beyond the wall, decorative tile lined the floor. A bench ran along one wall, beneath the shower. A large onsen-style tub filled a majority of the space, set beneath the mullioned window. It fit eight male crewmembers comfortably, but at the moment, only Sanji and Zoro were in the bathroom.
Zoro shut the privacy door and turned the lock to the bathroom. He didn’t turn on the light, the full moon coming through the window providing enough of illumination. He set Sanji’s clothes on the bench in the corner by the door, along with the fresh towels he’d grabbed. He removed his katanas and laid them atop of the pile before stripping out of his boots and trousers. Naked, he guided Sanji over to the shower, turning the water on. The hot water felt good against Sanji’s ocean-cooled skin. Zoro left it running.
Zoro washed himself off swiftly before turning his attention to Sanji. Sanji had already taken one, but he didn’t protest. Zoro’s hands soothed him in a different way, with soap and long strokes of the washrag, rinsing Sanji as he went along. He ran his hands along both arms, Sanji’s sides, his chest, and around his back. He descended to his knees on the tile floor, sliding the soapy rag and his hand down each of Sanji’s legs to his feet. Sanji’s body blocked the shower spray. He pressed a soft kiss to Sanji’s lower belly, above his blond curls, before washing Sanji’s groin. He reached behind Sanji, remaining on his knees, to gently wash Sanji’s backside. The running shower rinsed the soap away.
Sanji lifted a finger, tracing it along Zoro’s cheek. “You’re always beautiful when you’re on your knees.”
Zoro turned his head to press a kiss against Sanji’s palm. “Yours.”
The simple word made Sanji’s heart catch. “I’m not good enough to have you.”
Zoro wrapped his arms around Sanji’s waist, resting his chin on Sanji’s lower belly, looking up at him. “You are better than enough. Whatever you were told in the past were lies. Jealous lies. Your heart is perfect. You are everything I want. You’ve made my life infinitely better by being in it. And this might just be about sex for you, but it isn’t for me. But that’s okay, because having you here, having you alive and with me in any form that it takes is better than not having you be here at all.”
Sanji’s throat tightened, his eyes stinging once more. “I don’t know how to be anything but broken.”
“Then give me your broken self and let me put the pieces back together.” Zoro squeezed his waist lightly. “I’m not afraid. Of who you are, how you act, what you want, how dark your desires go. I am yours because I want to be with you, submit to you and only you. I will be whatever you need. I will take what you gift me. And I will hold you up when you need me to. No matter what, you are not alone.”
What Sanji did to deserve Zoro, he didn’t know. He hesitated before he told Zoro what he desired, in the place that he kept hidden because it scared even himself. “I want to own you, body and soul.”
“Done.” Zoro smiled, a soft quirk of his lips. “Anything else?”
“I want to mark you. Permanently. As mine.”
“Just tell me how and where.”
The pressure crushing Sanji’s chest finally began to ease. “I want to take care of you, after anything we do. I need to.”
“Okay,” Zoro said. “But let me take care of you, too. If you’re having a bad day, like today, you tell me Eirik. It’s our safe word, not just mine. And I will take care of you, physically, mentally, emotionally. Even if you need me to fuck you raw, I will know to hold you close afterward, to not let you go until you’re settled again.”
Sanji pushed his fingers through Zoro’s hair, gripping it, holding it tightly in a fist, dragging his head back to expose his throat. “Eirik,” he said roughly, needing Zoro, wanting everything Zoro was offering him. “Eirik.”
Zoro’s gaze was soft, even if his position was vulnerable. “What do you need?”
“Fuck my throat, but don’t choke me out,” Sanji told him. “Then, I want to be inside you, to hold you, and have you hold me.”
“Okay, cook.”
Sanji yanked at Zoro’s hair again. “No. Don’t call me that, not when we’re like this. Call me by my name.” It might be the name his bastard of a father had bestowed on him, but he’d be damned if he’d give ownership of it to that man. He was going to take it back, make it only his.
Zoro’s eye crinkled when he smiled. “Yes, Sanji.”
Sanji gave Zoro’s head a push before turning to rinse off. Zoro’s arms fell away. “Where do you want me?”
Zoro rose. “In the bath. Sit on the edge of the bench so I can reach you easier.”
Sanji nodded. He finished getting all the soap off, went over and climbed into the onsen-style tub. The bath was always hot and had running water that circulated through the ships pipes, dedicated to the bath and laundry. It ran through a filter in the bowels of the ship. It helped keep the water clean and allowed the bath to always be ready for use. It was emptied and bleached weekly for additional maintenance.
Sanji sat adjacent to the window in the center of the bench seat. He perched at the edge of the bench as Zoro had requested. He watched Zoro soap his hand liberally, then stroke himself into hardness. It wasn’t anticipation that Sanji felt, but something other, something needful. Not self-harm this time. It was a want to be cared for, in an edgier way.
Zoro climbed into the tub, wading into position between Sanji’s thighs. His erection appeared reddened, chafed. He brushed his thumb against Sanji’s lower lip, dragging it down slightly. “This is going to take a while.”
“I know.” Sanji licked the pad of Zoro’s thumb. “Take it slow, allow me to have this. Let me have all of you this way.”
Zoro slid his damp thumb around the curve of Sanji’s chin and tilted it up to open his throat. He brought his cock to Sanji’s mouth. Sanji opened for him, taking him in, keeping his gaze focused on Zoro’s. He took a deep breath as Zoro’s erection hit the back of his tongue before the thick shaft slowly penetrated his throat. The piercing rubbed against his already abraded throat, bringing with it fresh pain. Zoro drew back, the piercing scraping again. The sharpness it brought cleared Sanji’s mind completely. He let his eyelids flutter shut.
Zoro set a slow, but steady pace, allowing Sanji to take a full breath in between. Zoro rested his palm on the front of Sanji’s neck, feeling himself descending deep. His other hand cupped the back of Sanji’s head, pulling lightly with every measured thrust. Sanji rested his hands lightly around the backs of Zoro’s thighs, feeling the muscle cord and relax. The water in the tub made a soft, sloshing sound as Zoro’s thighs stirred the surface with his movements. Moonlight streamed in from the window, bathing the bathroom in a pale glow.
The pain was exquisite. A razor-edged tear that sank Sanji into the hazy space in his mind. There was no thought, no worries, only pain. Tears leaked continuously from behind his closed eyes. Drool coated his chin and the sides of his mouth. The muscles around his jaw ached deeply from stretching so wide for so long. His breathing was sonorous, almost meditative, as Zoro’s shaft kept its steady, rhythmic slide in and out of his throat.
It lasted a very long time, a ninth orgasm infinitely slow to arise. Zoro’s unsteady breathing, the slight increase in pace, pulled Sanji back into the bathroom. Zoro’s hand tightened on Sanji’s head, a soft sound caught in his throat, and he drew his hips back swiftly until only the head of his cock was in Sanji’s mouth as he reached climax. He pulsed dryly on Sanji’s tongue, barely a hint of semen expelling from him.
Sanji slid his hands from Zoro’s thighs as Zoro’s cock slipped from between his lips. It hurt to close his jaw. His throat was destroyed, possibly bleeding. The agony was almost all encompassing. He no longer had a voice, even as he tried to whisper, “Thank you.”
Zoro changed his position, sitting on Sanji’s knees, his feet behind Sanji’s backside on the bench. His hand sank beneath the surface of the water. He wrapped his fingers around Sanji’s soft cock and stroked him into hardness. Then, he shifted up, shifted closer, pushing Sanji’s upper body slightly back. He supported himself with one hand, the water’s buoyancy helping him raise up. He positioned Sanji against his hole and sank steadily down until Sanji was fully ensconced inside of Zoro’s hot body.
Zoro wrapped his arms around Sanji’s shoulders, drawing him in. Sanji slid his arms around Zoro’s chest, tucking his face into the crook of Zoro’s neck. Sanji could feel Zoro’s heels against him, the ankles loosely crossed. Sanji was held, just like he’d wanted, wrapped completely within Zoro’s embrace.
They remained like that for a while, soaking in the heat of the bath, the closeness between them, the tenderness, the caring. Sanji’s breath came easily now, his chest loose, his despair tucked away. The severe pain in his throat was a balm to his wounded soul. Zoro had given him what he’d needed, and more.
Eventually, Sanji felt the desire to move, the desire for pleasure, for enjoyment, to have Zoro for gratification rather than respite. He raised his head, his hand sliding downward to cup Zoro’s ass. He began lifting and lowering Zoro, the water helping him. Zoro used his arms, resting on Sanji’s shoulders, to assist. Zoro’s gaze was warm, full of quiet love.
The water sloshed around their chests as Sanji helped Zoro to ride him. The slide of Sanji’s cock back and forth into Zoro’s body felt like coming home. Pleasure grew, turning into carnal bliss. Zoro’s body was hot, silky, and tight around him. Sanji’s mouth found Zoro’s, kissing him, stoking the heat inside of Sanji. He rose, needing more. Easily lifting Zoro, he turned them both, leaning Zoro against the bench, driving more quickly into him. Zoro hooked his feet around Sanji’s waist, moaning softly into the kiss.
Sanji’s pace increased, hips thrusting with purpose, desire driving him. Water sloshed around them. His mouth never left Zoro’s, drinking him down now, passion growing, tongues sliding against one another with intent. The slight ache in Sanji’s jaw made the kiss even more exquisite. Sanji felt his body tightening, balls lifting, riding on the rapturous edge until he tumbled over into climax with a shudder. He emptied into Zoro, filling him like Sanji had been filled, spilling deep. Eyes shut, he rested his forehead against Zoro’s shoulder, breathing deep.
Zoro stroked his shoulders, his neck, along the shell of an ear, until Sanji regained his senses. Sanji opened his eyes, lifting his head, to look at Zoro. “Mine,” he mouthed, torn throat still unable to speak.
Zoro gifted him with a soft smile. “Yours.”
Sanji kissed him again, a short, gentle press of their lips. He urged Zoro to move off him. Exhaustion seeped into his bones. He felt light, though, unfettered by the weight that had driven him into the depths. The need to tend to Zoro pulled at him. He wanted to show Zoro that he cared in his way.
Zoro cleaned off in the shower, and Sanji dried off with one of the towels. He pulled on his hoodie and shorts. He could really use a cigarette. Zoro needed salve, sake, possibly more food.
When Zoro was dressed, he led the way from the bathroom, down the ladder to the library, then down to the aft deck. He headed for the infirmary’s back door. Sanji paused when he reached the bottom of the ladder, his eye catching on his dress shoes, still lined up to the rail. He knew that nothing had been magically fixed by him and Zoro getting back together, or that it was now deeper, more permanent. Sanji still hated himself, hated his Vinsmoke body. There was no question that his despair would reach out to try to drag him back into the depths, sweep him into the suicidal undertow.
Sanji looked the other direction. Zoro stood at the door, watching him, a steady, solid presence. Willing to ground him. Willing to give Sanji what he needed, even though it balanced on the blade’s edge of darkness. But Zoro was a swordsman and he could wield the blade with caring precision. Sanji swallowed, the agony in his throat full of grace.
Sanji walked over to his dress shoes, stepped into them, and joined Zoro. He curved his hand possessively around Zoro’s back as he escorted Zoro through the door.
Lightning flashed one last time in the distance, the storm dissipating. The Thousand Sunny continued sailing unburdened, tragedy held at bay.
End