The Giant Warrior Pirates’ feasting room aboard the Great Eirik was a long chamber on the port side of the ship. Dust motes danced in the sunlight that shined through the portholes along the wall. One massive table ran the length of the room, flanked on either side by tall wooden benches. A huge helmet with one broken horn stood as a centerpiece. Decorative skulls and weaponry hung on the support beams. Empty tankards stood at the ready for another night of carousing.
Sanji flung himself out of the way of Zoro’s downward slice, flipping hands over heels along the length of the table. His green tie was loose around his neck, white shirt unbuttoned at the collar. The tie flapped into his face as he flipped, but he was used to it. His suit coat lay discarded in the Great Eirik’s kitchen and his shirt sleeves were rolled. He had been about to start prep-work for lunch when Zoro had ambled in seeking a drink. Naturally, they started fighting.
It began with Zoro disparaging Sanji’s tie and it escalated quickly from there, like normal. Fashion choices, hair, attractiveness or lack thereof - utter nonsense to be fighting about, but Sanji and Zoro excelled at making it into a thing. Sanji had kicked Zoro through the door between the kitchen and the feasting room partway through their fight and now they were using the massive steins as defensive cover.
Not that they used cover when fighting each other. Their fighting was all out combat, attacks after attacks, punctuated by the occasional pulled kick or strike because they didn’t actually want to kill each other. It was a training ritual, horseplay, and release of energy rolled into one, and it was a hell of a lot of fun.
Until now.
Sanji found a new position to intercept Zoro’s incoming thrust and, instead of blocking with the heel of his shoe like he usually would, he twisted his leg so that Zoro’s katana clanged against his calf.
Sanji didn’t feel it.
The sensation - or lack thereof - had grown more and more pronounced as their fighting went on. At first, Sanji had chalked it up to great defensive blocking on his part. But then Zoro had clipped his elbow at one point, a lucky shot, one that would normally leave a mark that he would get yelled at later by Chopper for, and it hadn’t hurt. It hadn’t even injured him. Sure, the material of his white shirt now had a hole in it, which had pissed him off and caused him to fight harder, but he wasn’t hurt at all.
Once he realized it, he changed his blocks, allowing Zoro to strike him here and there on his body while still defending - he didn’t want Zoro to think he was winning - and taking stock of what hurt and what didn’t.
None of it did. Not a single strike of Zoro’s blades hurt him.
Granted, Zoro wasn’t trying to hurt him, not really. Neither of them was using full strength, or haki. This was practice. Fun. Enjoying each other’s company in one of the few ways the others wouldn’t, or couldn’t, join in. Physically fighting was an extension of their verbal fighting, which rarely held any real meaning. They did it because they could, and they enjoyed it.
But Sanji wasn’t really enjoying this. Not anymore.
Zoro’s face was reddened with exertion, sweat gleaming on his brow and bare chest. He had shed his coat and sash once they’d started fighting in the feasting hall. He only wore his trousers, boots, and the ratty green haramaki that he loved so much. He was fighting with two katanas. Wado Ichimonji remained in its scabbard at his side.
Sanji could see the rise and fall of Zoro’s chest as he breathed heavily. Sanji wasn’t winded at all. He wasn’t sweating, he didn’t feel the exertion - nothing. It was disconcerting. He thought back to his previous fights not with Zoro, the ones on Egghead Island, and couldn’t remember if he’d felt anything then, either. Maybe when one of the ladies had hit him…
Sanji performed a spinning back kick that sent Zoro sliding down the table to the opposite end. He did a series of handsprings to chase after the green haired marimo. He could feel the table beneath his palms and the impact of his toes, but now he wasn’t sure if he was really feeling them or the expectation of them.
Zoro executed his own flip over Sanji when he reached the end, which wasn’t bad. Zoro landed on his feet behind Sanji and sliced down and behind him. The energy behind the slices created a wind that buffeted Sanji off the edge of the table. He allowed himself to drop gracefully to the floor thirty feet below.
“You done?” Zoro called down to him.
“Yeah.” Sanji wanted a smoke, but his cigarettes were in his coat pocket in the other room.
Zoro landed with a thud beside him. He sheathed his katanas. “I win.”
“You didn’t win!”
“I got in the last hit. I win.” Zoro wiped the perspiration from his damp forehead with a hand.
“Tch.” Sanji let it slide. He wasn’t in the mood to keep arguing. He started for the kitchen.
Zoro fell into step beside him. He looked around for his coat and sash. “You should let Chopper check you out. The number of times I hit you, one of them must’ve left a mark.”
So Zoro had noticed Sanji’s experimenting. Sanji wasn’t too surprised. The lughead could be very observant when he wanted, especially when fighting. “I’m not hurt.”
“Chopper’ll be ticked if you hide something from him.” Zoro frowned at his coat sleeve dangling twenty-some feet above them on the giant bench.
“I told you, I’m not hurt.” That was the problem.
Zoro’s frown turned on Sanji. “Bullshit. I saw you taking those hits instead of blocking them. There’s a hole in your sleeve and on the back of your thigh.”
“You cut my trousers!” Sanji stopped walking and tried to peer behind him. His hands found a slice in the trousers high up on the back of his thigh. “Bastard.”
“Your fault. You were letting me hit you.” Zoro’s gaze narrowed. “Why were you letting me hit you?”
Sanji didn’t want to talk about this. “I wasn’t,” he lied, and started for the kitchen again.
Zoro grabbed his forearm, halting him. “Like hell you weren’t.”
Sanji looked down at the hand on his forearm. He felt it, at least. A warm, firm grip, slightly damp. “Get your sweaty paw off me,” he said, though part of him didn’t want Zoro to let go.
Zoro did, though, and Sanji felt immediately bereft. “Tell me what’s going through that stupid head of yours.”
“I’m thinking about bashing your head in for ruining my trousers.” Sanji tried to brush him off, but of course the shit swordsman picked now to be mullish.
“No, something else is going on in there.” Zoro folded his arms across his bare chest. “I’m not going to leave you alone until you tell me.”
Sanji exhaled exasperatedly and rubbed his forehead. He was getting a headache. Or was he? Did he actually feel the pain? Was he imagining it? Or was this more of an emotional headache? Could someone get an emotional headache?
Sanji knew his emotions were still working, thankfully. He spent time in the shower letting those emotions swirl down the drain, where no one could see. The events on Whole Cake Island had sent him into a well of despair that he was still trying to climb out of. Allowing old man Vegapunk to get killed hadn’t helped. He was closer to the light at the top now, but this no-pain thing might send him sliding back down into the darkness.
“I’m waiting,” Zoro reminded him.
“Fine. I was letting you hit me to see if I’d feel it. I didn’t.” Sanji glowered at him. “Happy?”
Zoro’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean you didn’t feel it?”
“Just what I said. You hit me, I felt nothing.” Sanji desperately wanted a cigarette. He started for the kitchen, but Zoro grabbed his arm once again.
“You felt nothing. Nothing-nothing, or no pain?”
“What difference does it make?” Sanji stared at the hand on his arm again, both grateful and depressed by the feeling.
“If you don’t feel anything, your fighting’s gonna start to suck. If you don’t feel pain, you’ve got an advantage. A good one.”
Sanji shifted his stare to Zoro’s face, dumbfounded by the marimo’s words. “Is fighting all you ever think about?”
Zoro lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “Pretty much.”
Of course he did. “It’s not as simple as that,” Sanji said.
“Isn’t it?” Zoro rubbed his thumb on the underside of Sanji’s arm. Sanji didn’t know if it was purposeful or absentmindedly. It sent goosebumps running up to his elbow.
“Yes. No.” Sanji’s thoughts were muddled by the thumb. “Doesn’t the fact that I’m not feeling pain freak you out?” It was freaking Sanji out. Not as much as Zoro’s thumb was succeeding at doing, though.
“Eh. Your body did that metamorphosis shit. This is probably part of it.”
Sanji gaped at him. Since when did Zoro know such a big word as metamorphosis? “But I can’t feel anything.”
“You can feel this, can’t you?” Zoro’s thumb stroked again. The bastard was doing it on purpose.
“Y-yes.” Sanji cursed at the stutter. “You can stop any time now.”
Zoro did stop, but only to turn Sanji’s arm over and use his other hand to stroke his fingertips over Sanji’s palm. “How about this?”
A shiver slinked down Sanji’s spine. “Yes. What are you doing?”
“Making a point.” Zoro lifted his hand to brush his fingers along Sanji's neck, over his jaw, to his cheek. The pads of his fingertips were rough, calloused. “What about this?”
Sanji’s throat suddenly felt dry. “Are you going to kiss me?”
A pink blush spread up Zoro’s throat, over his cheeks, and to his ears. It also spread down over his chest. He looked as if he were about to jerk away but then steeled himself like he was going into battle. His jaw tilted, his one eye narrowed. “What if I did?”
Sanji couldn’t deny that he’d imagined Zoro kissing him. A third of the time they got into it, Sanji would picture tearing off their clothes and fucking Zoro into oblivion. Kissing was involved, though not like this. Sanji liked women a lot, but that didn’t stop him from also eyeing up the occasional man. He rarely acted on it. Water 7 was the last time and that was years ago. He’d refused to give in to any temptation on Momoiro Island.
The hand on Sanji’s arm tightened. He could feel apprehension coming off Zoro in waves now.
Sanji licked his dry lips. Zoro’s gaze darted to them then back to look Sanji in the eyes. “Well?” Zoro challenged.
“I wouldn’t kill you.” Sanji’s voice was barely a whisper and sounded foreign in his ears.
Zoro inhaled a shaky breath, as if he hadn’t been expecting that response. The muscle in his jaw ticked. The hand on Sanji’s cheek slid up, brushing the hair away from his face, to cup the side of his head. Then, Zoro leaned in and kissed him.
Sanji’s heart started hammering in his chest. He heard a roar of blood in his ears. He felt the hot gust of air as Zoro exhaled sharply against his upper lip. Zoro’s lips were warm and firm, pressed against Sanji’s own. Sanji’s suddenly shaking hands curled into fists. They stared at each other, blurry-eyed, not moving, their mouths against each other’s for the first time.
Sanji felt all of it.
Zoro pulled back first, just far enough to focus. Their mouths made a soft sound upon parting. His gaze roved over Sanji’s face, looking for something. To Sanji, he looked nervous, on the border of panic. Something Sanji might not have seen if they weren’t so close and if Sanji weren’t feeling the same way. The world had tilted underfoot.
Sanji’s hand came up, seeming of its own volition, to rest on Zoro’s bare chest. He could feel Zoro’s heartbeat thundering quickly beneath his palm. It echoed his own.
It was Sanji who closed the distance between them this time. He pressed his mouth to Zoro’s with a shuddered intake of breath. Zoro made a small noise in the back of his throat. Sanji’s every nerve ending felt like it was on fire. Had this been what he’d been missing by not acting on his fight-induced desires?
Zoro dropped Sanji’s arm and wrapped his hand behind Sanji’s back. He pulled Sanji bodily against him, trapping Sanji’s hand against his chest. Sanji could feel all of him, muscular chest to belly to groin to thighs. Slanting his head, Zoro took the second kiss from tentative to purposeful. And Sanji was all in.
Lust sparked between them instantly. Sanji could feel the blood rushing through his veins. The heat of Zoro’s body pressed against his made him want more. He couldn’t hear anything beyond the thundering of his heartbeat and their unsteady breaths.
Sanji curled his fingers into Zoro’s haramaki, trying to pull him even closer, as their mouths met, parted, and met again. The second kiss became a third, then a fourth, then beyond until Sanji lost count. Zoro’s kissing was as rough and messy as the rest of him and Sanji liked it.
Eventually, they had to come up for air. Sanji panted against Zoro’s kiss-damp mouth, their foreheads resting together. He could see the flush on Zoro’s skin. His own skin felt hot. He could feel the hardness in Zoro’s trousers pressed against his own. Any moment now, Sanji’s brain might come back and remind him this was Zoro. That they irritated the piss out of one another. That they didn’t do things like this.
Zoro licked his lips, and Sanji’s brain said fuck it and he kissed Zoro once more.
Zoro made the noise in the back of his throat again. A kind of surprised-delighted-turned-on sound that inflamed Sanji. Sanji probably made lustful sounds of his own but he was too gone to care. He hooked a leg behind Zoro’s thigh, adjusting their fit, bringing their hard-ons in line. His erection was an exquisite type of ache that reminded Sanji that he could still feel some kind of pain.
Then Zoro’s mouth slid from his, and he was kissing down Sanji’s neck with sharp little bites, and the pain was bliss. Sanji definitely moaned this time, a wanton sound that might embarrass him if he wasn’t too enraptured to care. He moved his hand behind Zoro’s back, sliding it beneath his haramaki. He scratched his blunt fingernails against the base of Zoro’s spine above the waistband of his trousers.
Zoro hissed against Sanji’s skin and bumped his hips forward. Sanji felt a thrill travel through him. He’d caused that reaction. He wanted to cause more. He wanted to watch Zoro shatter beneath his hands. The slam of lust nearly caused Sanji to come in his trousers. He had to pull away from Zoro before he did.
The small whine Sanji’s move away elicited almost broke him. He opened his eyes to see Zoro panting from arousal. His mouth was wet and swollen from kissing. His pupil was dark beneath his heavy-lidded gaze. Never had Sanji expected Zoro might look like this, because of him. It was a heady feeling, one he didn’t want to give up.
The sound of heavy footsteps yanked Sanji back to reality. He and Zoro sprang apart. They were standing in the feasting room, where anyone could have walked in on them. One of the Giant Warrior Pirates started humming in the kitchen.
Sanji shoved his hand through his hair and yanked at his already loosened tie. Zoro adjusted himself beneath his trousers, which was completely uncouth and obscene. “Don’t touch yourself in public.”
Zoro suddenly looked awkward and embarrassed. “I’m going to… go.”
The noise in the kitchen distracted Sanji. When he looked back, Zoro had fled.
Sanji unbuttoned another button of his shirt and fanned himself. He had to wait for his erection to subside to move. The expected panic attack didn’t arrive while he waited. There was no question now that he could still feel things. Maybe not pain while he was fighting, and Zoro was right that would be an advantage. But he’d definitely felt the love bites on his neck. Chopper would get mad if Zoro had left a mark.
A laugh burbled inside Sanji. How was he going to explain this to the crew? Then again, they probably already expected it, except for Chopper and maybe Jinbe who hadn’t been around them long. His sweet Nami-san likely had a bet going.
Sanji rubbed a hand over his face. He didn’t know if he was ready for this type of change. He had too much emotional turmoil to deal with already to pile more on. But then Sanji remembered Zoro’s blush before their first kiss and his awkwardness at the end, and damned if it wasn’t endearing.
“What are you doing to me, marimo?” he muttered to himself. He really needed a cigarette.
Sanji didn’t see Zoro again until the end of the day, when he had to hunt the shithead down to bring him dinner. Zoro had skipped lunch and hadn’t shown up for the latter meal, and it pissed Sanji off. No one went hungry on his watch, not anymore. His cooking and his caring about other people’s well-being were a strength, not a failing. Luffy had reminded him of that, and Zeff in his mind once he’d told Judge Vinsmoke to shove it. Zeff was Sanji’s true father, not that despot who wanted sociopaths for children.
Sanji carried a plate of food with him all over the Great Eirik before traversing to the Sunny to search there. He finally found Zoro holed up in the Aquarium Bar, scowling at the fish swimming in the massive tank. He was wearing a dark blue shirt, unbuttoned, over his usual trousers and haramaki. He sat sideways on the curved couch, cross-legged, a bottle of booze resting on the back of the seat. His katanas leaned against the side of the couch.
Sanji had dropped Zoro’s coat and sash in the men’s quarters on his hunt for the swordsman. His own black suit coat rested on his shoulders and was unbuttoned at the waist. He’d changed his torn trousers before lunch. Zoro glanced over when the Aquarium Bar door opened and then turned his head quickly away. The dim light from the sconces hanging on the service elevator didn’t hide the pink color that suddenly tinted his ears.
“What do you want?” Zoro growled.
“I brought you food, mosshead.” Sanji stalked over to him and thrust the plate in his face. “How dare you hide in here like a chicken instead of coming to dinner.”
“I’m not hiding.” Zoro himself didn’t sound convinced of his words. The blush evident on his cheeks also didn’t help. He took the plate with more force than necessary. “You fed me. Now go away.”
“No.” Sanji took the time to go to each of the three doors that accessed the Aquarium Bar and turned the locks.
Zoro’s voice took on a slightly panicked tone. “What are you doing?”
“Giving us privacy.”
“What if I don’t want privacy?”
Sanji walked back over to where Zoro was seated and sat himself, in front of Zoro. He took out a cigarette, lit it, and inhaled the soothing smoke. Zoro looked anywhere but at Sanji. “We’re not going to ignore this,” Sanji said.
“Why not?” Zoro sounded the tiniest bit petulant. “It was a thing that happened and now it’s done, and we never have to mention it again.”
“Do you really mean that?” Sanji was concerned, and maybe a little anxious, that he’d been mistaken about this. He’d spent the entire afternoon and evening debating what to do about this twist in their relationship. He’d decided he’d be willing to give it a go if Zoro was interested. But perhaps Zoro wasn’t, and this had been a mistake.
Zoro didn’t answer. The color on his cheeks and ears darkened and spread down his neck and chest. He looked studiously down at the plate clenched between his fingers. The plate began to crack.
Sanji took the plate from him and set it on the floor. He took another drag from his cigarette, then set it in one of the ashtrays that littered the room. He tried to appear calm, but his heart was hammering in his chest. Turning on the couch to face Zoro, one knee bent, his foot tucked under his other leg, he reached out to nudge Zoro’s chin up.
Zoro’s one eye had a somewhat wild look in it, like a cornered colt. He was normally so confident and self-possessed. To see him unsure, maybe even a little scared, floored Sanji. Sanji realized that Zoro wasn’t sure what to do about this twist, either, and it made Sanji feel a hell of a lot better knowing that he wasn’t alone.
“Are you going to kiss me?” Zoro blurted. His hands were gripping his cross-legged knees.
A smile curved the corner of Sanji’s mouth, even though he was having trouble catching a breath. “What if I did?”
Zoro appeared as if he couldn’t decide whether to bolt or stand his ground. He settled on the latter, his chin tilting in challenge. “I wouldn’t kill you.”
Something caught in Sanji’s throat. It felt a lot like love, but he wasn’t ready for that yet. Instead, he closed the distance between them and pressed his lips to Zoro’s.
It was better than the first time. Better than the second and third kiss, too. Zoro’s mouth parted slightly when Sanji’s lips met his, and he released a shaky sigh that did Sanji in. Sanji felt the rush of desire flow through him along with a fierce feeling of possession. He angled his head and deepened the kiss. He claimed Zoro’s mouth, searing kiss after kiss onto the other man. Zoro’s hands now gripped Sanji’s elbows and was giving as good as he got. His kisses were rough, almost sloppy, with a hint of teeth scraping against Sanji’s lower lip.
Sanji finally broke for air and looked at Zoro. Zoro's lips were kiss-swollen and his face was flushed with arousal. He panted as if they’d been fighting. The slightly stunned look in his eye made Sanji’s stomach flip. He might take Zoro right now on this couch.
Zoro swallowed thickly and licked his lips. “Is it always like that?” he asked in a shaken voice.
“Like what?” Sanji ran his finger from beneath Zoro’s chin along his strong jawline to brush against the earrings in his ear. They chimed almost inaudibly.
“Like that.” Zoro made a helpless gesture. “Kissing.”
Sanji stilled. Even his heart stopped. “You’ve never done it before?”
“No. Why should I?” The mullish tilt was back in Zoro’s jaw, as if daring Sanji to say anything disparaging. “Never wanted to before.”
Before now. Before he’d kissed Sanji.
A whoosh of air left Sanji as if he’d been punched in the solar plexus. Holy shit. Zoro had never kissed anyone. Sanji was his first. It explained the roughness. Roughness that Sanji liked. Oh fuck. If Sanji didn’t want to possess Zoro before, he certainly did now.
Zoro was beginning to look like he might run again so Sanji slid his hand around the nape of Zoro’s neck. It seemed like ages ago that he was questioning his sanity on not being able to feel anything. Right now, every single fiber of his being was on fire and he could feel everything. The prickly hairs on the nape of Zoro’s neck. The heat of Zoro’s breath. The softness of the cushion beneath his rear. The rasp of the material of his shirt against his arm as he brought his other hand up to touch Zoro’s cheek. The warmth of Zoro’s skin beneath his fingertips. He felt alive.
Zoro exhaled shakily - nervous, Sanji now realized. Sanji pretended he wasn’t falling in love. He kissed Zoro again, gently, almost reverently, until passion alit once more. Then he was lost in a haze of want, pushing Zoro back onto the couch, covering him, kissing and kissing until his lips were numb. Zoro’s hands were on him, touching him, clutching at his hair, his arms, his back, fisting in the fabric of his suit coat. Unbidden sounds of appreciation, want and desire rose from Zoro’s throat. He kissed back without reserve, putting as much effort into it as he did everything else.
Sanji wasn’t sure which one of them came first. He didn’t care. While kissing and kissing, they’d rubbed against each other on the sofa until both their trousers were sticky. Sanji was nestled between Zoro’s muscular thighs, their bodies pressed intimately together through their clothes. Zoro was randomly grabbing and letting go of various parts of Sanji’s body. Sanji nibbled lightly at Zoro’s neck. Eventually, Sanji folded his hands on Zoro’s breastbone and rested his chin on them. He could feel the rise and fall of Zoro’s chest and Zoro’s heart beating steadily beneath his palms.
Zoro looked sleepy-eyed, kiss-bruised, and happy. Sanji suppressed the weird urge to beat his chest in pride. Besides, he was comfortable and a little sleepy himself. It had been a wild day. He’d gone from possibly falling back into the well of despair to humping Zoro into a contented orgasm in the Aquarium Bar. He would never claim that his life was dull since joining the Straw Hat crew.
“We’re gonna do that again, right?” Zoro ventured tentatively, breaking the satisfying silence in the room.
“And more,” Sanji promised, feeling the faint tinkle of desire rousing in him again.
Zoro must’ve felt it, too, because he shifted his hips slightly beneath Sanji’s. “Um, I’ve never done this before, either. You know,” his hand came off Sanji’s back and Sanji could feel him wave it at their bodies, “this.”
Sanji bit his knuckle as he reined in his composure. “I thought you said you wouldn’t kill me.”
Zoro’s brow furrowed. “What?”
“Never mind.” Sanji adjusted himself again and willed away his arousal. He had the strong - and protective - desire to do this properly. There was plenty of time. “I figured out that you hadn’t.”
“Okay. Good.” Zoro put his hand down on Sanji’s back again, a pleasant weight between his shoulder blades. His other arm was pillowed behind his head. “I didn’t want you to expect any of that crap you do with women.”
Sanji’s eyebrow raised and a smile twitched his lips. “That crap I do with women?”
“You know, going all noodly and romantic and that shit.”
Laughter bubbled in Sanji’s belly. “I didn’t think you’d do that.”
“Damn right I won’t,” Zoro sounded self-assured, “no matter what Nami’s books say.”
“You’ve read her books?” Sanji knew what kind of material Nami read. They were the type that made his nose bleed. “I didn’t think you knew how to read.”
“I can read.” Zoro scowled, but then went on. “I wondered one time what this might entail. There was a lot of touching and moaning and thrusting. Couldn’t see the appeal when my hand works just fine.” Zoro’s voice abruptly roughened with self-consciousness. “Might change my mind, though.”
Damn it, Sanji was going to fall in love with this man. Or maybe he already had, but hadn’t realized it yet. Either way, he was sunk. He pushed up to rise over Zoro, their mouths millimeters away. “Oh, I promise you will.”
He sealed that promise with a kiss that went right to his core.
There was no question that Sanji felt it.
End
Feeling It
The Giant Warrior Pirates’ feasting room aboard the Great Eirik was a long chamber on the port side of the ship. Dust motes danced in the sunlight that shined through the portholes along the wall. One massive table ran the length of the room, flanked on either side by tall wooden benches. A huge helmet with one broken horn stood as a centerpiece. Decorative skulls and weaponry hung on the support beams. Empty tankards stood at the ready for another night of carousing.
Sanji flung himself out of the way of Zoro’s downward slice, flipping hands over heels along the length of the table. His green tie was loose around his neck, white shirt unbuttoned at the collar. The tie flapped into his face as he flipped, but he was used to it. His suit coat lay discarded in the Great Eirik’s kitchen and his shirt sleeves were rolled. He had been about to start prep-work for lunch when Zoro had ambled in seeking a drink. Naturally, they started fighting.
It began with Zoro disparaging Sanji’s tie and it escalated quickly from there, like normal. Fashion choices, hair, attractiveness or lack thereof - utter nonsense to be fighting about, but Sanji and Zoro excelled at making it into a thing. Sanji had kicked Zoro through the door between the kitchen and the feasting room partway through their fight and now they were using the massive steins as defensive cover.
Not that they used cover when fighting each other. Their fighting was all out combat, attacks after attacks, punctuated by the occasional pulled kick or strike because they didn’t actually want to kill each other. It was a training ritual, horseplay, and release of energy rolled into one, and it was a hell of a lot of fun.
Until now.
Sanji found a new position to intercept Zoro’s incoming thrust and, instead of blocking with the heel of his shoe like he usually would, he twisted his leg so that Zoro’s katana clanged against his calf.
Sanji didn’t feel it.
The sensation - or lack thereof - had grown more and more pronounced as their fighting went on. At first, Sanji had chalked it up to great defensive blocking on his part. But then Zoro had clipped his elbow at one point, a lucky shot, one that would normally leave a mark that he would get yelled at later by Chopper for, and it hadn’t hurt. It hadn’t even injured him. Sure, the material of his white shirt now had a hole in it, which had pissed him off and caused him to fight harder, but he wasn’t hurt at all.
Once he realized it, he changed his blocks, allowing Zoro to strike him here and there on his body while still defending - he didn’t want Zoro to think he was winning - and taking stock of what hurt and what didn’t.
None of it did. Not a single strike of Zoro’s blades hurt him.
Granted, Zoro wasn’t trying to hurt him, not really. Neither of them was using full strength, or haki. This was practice. Fun. Enjoying each other’s company in one of the few ways the others wouldn’t, or couldn’t, join in. Physically fighting was an extension of their verbal fighting, which rarely held any real meaning. They did it because they could, and they enjoyed it.
But Sanji wasn’t really enjoying this. Not anymore.
Zoro’s face was reddened with exertion, sweat gleaming on his brow and bare chest. He had shed his coat and sash once they’d started fighting in the feasting hall. He only wore his trousers, boots, and the ratty green haramaki that he loved so much. He was fighting with two katanas. Wado Ichimonji remained in its scabbard at his side.
Sanji could see the rise and fall of Zoro’s chest as he breathed heavily. Sanji wasn’t winded at all. He wasn’t sweating, he didn’t feel the exertion - nothing. It was disconcerting. He thought back to his previous fights not with Zoro, the ones on Egghead Island, and couldn’t remember if he’d felt anything then, either. Maybe when one of the ladies had hit him…
Sanji performed a spinning back kick that sent Zoro sliding down the table to the opposite end. He did a series of handsprings to chase after the green haired marimo. He could feel the table beneath his palms and the impact of his toes, but now he wasn’t sure if he was really feeling them or the expectation of them.
Zoro executed his own flip over Sanji when he reached the end, which wasn’t bad. Zoro landed on his feet behind Sanji and sliced down and behind him. The energy behind the slices created a wind that buffeted Sanji off the edge of the table. He allowed himself to drop gracefully to the floor thirty feet below.
“You done?” Zoro called down to him.
“Yeah.” Sanji wanted a smoke, but his cigarettes were in his coat pocket in the other room.
Zoro landed with a thud beside him. He sheathed his katanas. “I win.”
“You didn’t win!”
“I got in the last hit. I win.” Zoro wiped the perspiration from his damp forehead with a hand.
“Tch.” Sanji let it slide. He wasn’t in the mood to keep arguing. He started for the kitchen.
Zoro fell into step beside him. He looked around for his coat and sash. “You should let Chopper check you out. The number of times I hit you, one of them must’ve left a mark.”
So Zoro had noticed Sanji’s experimenting. Sanji wasn’t too surprised. The lughead could be very observant when he wanted, especially when fighting. “I’m not hurt.”
“Chopper’ll be ticked if you hide something from him.” Zoro frowned at his coat sleeve dangling twenty-some feet above them on the giant bench.
“I told you, I’m not hurt.” That was the problem.
Zoro’s frown turned on Sanji. “Bullshit. I saw you taking those hits instead of blocking them. There’s a hole in your sleeve and on the back of your thigh.”
“You cut my trousers!” Sanji stopped walking and tried to peer behind him. His hands found a slice in the trousers high up on the back of his thigh. “Bastard.”
“Your fault. You were letting me hit you.” Zoro’s gaze narrowed. “Why were you letting me hit you?”
Sanji didn’t want to talk about this. “I wasn’t,” he lied, and started for the kitchen again.
Zoro grabbed his forearm, halting him. “Like hell you weren’t.”
Sanji looked down at the hand on his forearm. He felt it, at least. A warm, firm grip, slightly damp. “Get your sweaty paw off me,” he said, though part of him didn’t want Zoro to let go.
Zoro did, though, and Sanji felt immediately bereft. “Tell me what’s going through that stupid head of yours.”
“I’m thinking about bashing your head in for ruining my trousers.” Sanji tried to brush him off, but of course the shit swordsman picked now to be mullish.
“No, something else is going on in there.” Zoro folded his arms across his bare chest. “I’m not going to leave you alone until you tell me.”
Sanji exhaled exasperatedly and rubbed his forehead. He was getting a headache. Or was he? Did he actually feel the pain? Was he imagining it? Or was this more of an emotional headache? Could someone get an emotional headache?
Sanji knew his emotions were still working, thankfully. He spent time in the shower letting those emotions swirl down the drain, where no one could see. The events on Whole Cake Island had sent him into a well of despair that he was still trying to climb out of. Allowing old man Vegapunk to get killed hadn’t helped. He was closer to the light at the top now, but this no-pain thing might send him sliding back down into the darkness.
“I’m waiting,” Zoro reminded him.
“Fine. I was letting you hit me to see if I’d feel it. I didn’t.” Sanji glowered at him. “Happy?”
Zoro’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean you didn’t feel it?”
“Just what I said. You hit me, I felt nothing.” Sanji desperately wanted a cigarette. He started for the kitchen, but Zoro grabbed his arm once again.
“You felt nothing. Nothing-nothing, or no pain?”
“What difference does it make?” Sanji stared at the hand on his arm again, both grateful and depressed by the feeling.
“If you don’t feel anything, your fighting’s gonna start to suck. If you don’t feel pain, you’ve got an advantage. A good one.”
Sanji shifted his stare to Zoro’s face, dumbfounded by the marimo’s words. “Is fighting all you ever think about?”
Zoro lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “Pretty much.”
Of course he did. “It’s not as simple as that,” Sanji said.
“Isn’t it?” Zoro rubbed his thumb on the underside of Sanji’s arm. Sanji didn’t know if it was purposeful or absentmindedly. It sent goosebumps running up to his elbow.
“Yes. No.” Sanji’s thoughts were muddled by the thumb. “Doesn’t the fact that I’m not feeling pain freak you out?” It was freaking Sanji out. Not as much as Zoro’s thumb was succeeding at doing, though.
“Eh. Your body did that metamorphosis shit. This is probably part of it.”
Sanji gaped at him. Since when did Zoro know such a big word as metamorphosis? “But I can’t feel anything.”
“You can feel this, can’t you?” Zoro’s thumb stroked again. The bastard was doing it on purpose.
“Y-yes.” Sanji cursed at the stutter. “You can stop any time now.”
Zoro did stop, but only to turn Sanji’s arm over and use his other hand to stroke his fingertips over Sanji’s palm. “How about this?”
A shiver slinked down Sanji’s spine. “Yes. What are you doing?”
“Making a point.” Zoro lifted his hand to brush his fingers along Sanji's neck, over his jaw, to his cheek. The pads of his fingertips were rough, calloused. “What about this?”
Sanji’s throat suddenly felt dry. “Are you going to kiss me?”
A pink blush spread up Zoro’s throat, over his cheeks, and to his ears. It also spread down over his chest. He looked as if he were about to jerk away but then steeled himself like he was going into battle. His jaw tilted, his one eye narrowed. “What if I did?”
Sanji couldn’t deny that he’d imagined Zoro kissing him. A third of the time they got into it, Sanji would picture tearing off their clothes and fucking Zoro into oblivion. Kissing was involved, though not like this. Sanji liked women a lot, but that didn’t stop him from also eyeing up the occasional man. He rarely acted on it. Water 7 was the last time and that was years ago. He’d refused to give in to any temptation on Momoiro Island.
The hand on Sanji’s arm tightened. He could feel apprehension coming off Zoro in waves now.
Sanji licked his dry lips. Zoro’s gaze darted to them then back to look Sanji in the eyes. “Well?” Zoro challenged.
“I wouldn’t kill you.” Sanji’s voice was barely a whisper and sounded foreign in his ears.
Zoro inhaled a shaky breath, as if he hadn’t been expecting that response. The muscle in his jaw ticked. The hand on Sanji’s cheek slid up, brushing the hair away from his face, to cup the side of his head. Then, Zoro leaned in and kissed him.
Sanji’s heart started hammering in his chest. He heard a roar of blood in his ears. He felt the hot gust of air as Zoro exhaled sharply against his upper lip. Zoro’s lips were warm and firm, pressed against Sanji’s own. Sanji’s suddenly shaking hands curled into fists. They stared at each other, blurry-eyed, not moving, their mouths against each other’s for the first time.
Sanji felt all of it.
Zoro pulled back first, just far enough to focus. Their mouths made a soft sound upon parting. His gaze roved over Sanji’s face, looking for something. To Sanji, he looked nervous, on the border of panic. Something Sanji might not have seen if they weren’t so close and if Sanji weren’t feeling the same way. The world had tilted underfoot.
Sanji’s hand came up, seeming of its own volition, to rest on Zoro’s bare chest. He could feel Zoro’s heartbeat thundering quickly beneath his palm. It echoed his own.
It was Sanji who closed the distance between them this time. He pressed his mouth to Zoro’s with a shuddered intake of breath. Zoro made a small noise in the back of his throat. Sanji’s every nerve ending felt like it was on fire. Had this been what he’d been missing by not acting on his fight-induced desires?
Zoro dropped Sanji’s arm and wrapped his hand behind Sanji’s back. He pulled Sanji bodily against him, trapping Sanji’s hand against his chest. Sanji could feel all of him, muscular chest to belly to groin to thighs. Slanting his head, Zoro took the second kiss from tentative to purposeful. And Sanji was all in.
Lust sparked between them instantly. Sanji could feel the blood rushing through his veins. The heat of Zoro’s body pressed against his made him want more. He couldn’t hear anything beyond the thundering of his heartbeat and their unsteady breaths.
Sanji curled his fingers into Zoro’s haramaki, trying to pull him even closer, as their mouths met, parted, and met again. The second kiss became a third, then a fourth, then beyond until Sanji lost count. Zoro’s kissing was as rough and messy as the rest of him and Sanji liked it.
Eventually, they had to come up for air. Sanji panted against Zoro’s kiss-damp mouth, their foreheads resting together. He could see the flush on Zoro’s skin. His own skin felt hot. He could feel the hardness in Zoro’s trousers pressed against his own. Any moment now, Sanji’s brain might come back and remind him this was Zoro. That they irritated the piss out of one another. That they didn’t do things like this.
Zoro licked his lips, and Sanji’s brain said fuck it and he kissed Zoro once more.
Zoro made the noise in the back of his throat again. A kind of surprised-delighted-turned-on sound that inflamed Sanji. Sanji probably made lustful sounds of his own but he was too gone to care. He hooked a leg behind Zoro’s thigh, adjusting their fit, bringing their hard ons in line. His erection was an exquisite type of ache that reminded Sanji that he could still feel some kind of pain.
Then Zoro’s mouth slid from his, and he was kissing down Sanji’s neck with sharp little bites, and the pain was bliss. Sanji definitely moaned this time, a wanton sound that might embarrass him if he wasn’t too enraptured to care. He moved his hand behind Zoro’s back, sliding it beneath his haramaki. He scratched his blunt fingernails against the base of Zoro’s spine above the waistband of his trousers.
Zoro hissed against Sanji’s skin and bumped his hips forward. Sanji felt a thrill travel through him. He’d caused that reaction. He wanted to cause more. He wanted to watch Zoro shatter beneath his hands. The slam of lust nearly caused Sanji to come in his trousers. He had to pull away from Zoro before he did.
The small whine Sanji’s move away elicited almost broke him. He opened his eyes to see Zoro panting from arousal. His mouth was wet and swollen from kissing. His pupil was dark beneath his heavy-lidded gaze. Never had Sanji expected Zoro might look like this, because of him. It was a heady feeling, one he didn’t want to give up.
The sound of heavy footsteps yanked Sanji back to reality. He and Zoro sprang apart. They were standing in the feasting room, where anyone could have walked in on them. One of the Giant Warrior Pirates started humming in the kitchen.
Sanji shoved his hand through his hair and yanked at his already loosened tie. Zoro adjusted himself beneath his trousers, which was completely uncouth and obscene. “Don’t touch yourself in public.”
Zoro suddenly looked awkward and embarrassed. “I’m going to… go.”
The noise in the kitchen distracted Sanji. When he looked back, Zoro had fled.
Sanji unbuttoned another button of his shirt and fanned himself. He had to wait for his erection to subside to move. The expected panic attack didn’t arrive while he waited. There was no question now that he could still feel things. Maybe not pain while he was fighting, and Zoro was right that would be an advantage. But he’d definitely felt the love bites on his neck. Chopper would get mad if Zoro had left a mark.
A laugh burbled inside Sanji. How was he going to explain this to the crew? Then again, they probably already expected it, except for Chopper and maybe Jinbe who hadn’t been around them long. His sweet Nami-san likely had a bet going.
Sanji rubbed a hand over his face. He didn’t know if he was ready for this type of change. He had too much emotional turmoil to deal with already to pile more on. But then Sanji remembered Zoro’s blush before their first kiss and his awkwardness at the end, and damned if it wasn’t endearing.
“What are you doing to me, marimo?” he muttered to himself. He really needed a cigarette.
Sanji didn’t see Zoro again until the end of the day, when he had to hunt the shithead down to bring him dinner. Zoro had skipped lunch and hadn’t shown up for the latter meal, and it pissed Sanji off. No one went hungry on his watch, not anymore. His cooking and his caring about other people’s well-being were a strength, not a failing. Luffy had reminded him of that, and Zeff in his mind once he’d told Judge Vinsmoke to shove it. Zeff was Sanji’s true father, not that despot who wanted sociopaths for children.
Sanji carried a plate of food with him all over the Great Eirik before traversing to the Sunny to search there. He finally found Zoro holed up in the Aquarium Bar, scowling at the fish swimming in the massive tank. He was wearing a dark blue shirt, unbuttoned, over his usual trousers and haramaki. He sat sideways on the curved couch, cross-legged, a bottle of booze resting on the back of the seat. His katanas leaned against the side of the couch.
Sanji had dropped Zoro’s coat and sash in the men’s quarters on his hunt for the swordsman. His own black suit coat rested on his shoulders and was unbuttoned at the waist. He’d changed his torn trousers before lunch. Zoro glanced over when the Aquarium Bar door opened and then turned his head quickly away. The dim light from the sconces hanging on the service elevator didn’t hide the pink color that suddenly tinted his ears.
“What do you want?” Zoro growled.
“I brought you food, mosshead.” Sanji stalked over to him and thrust the plate in his face. “How dare you hide in here like a chicken instead of coming to dinner.”
“I’m not hiding.” Zoro himself didn’t sound convinced of his words. The blush evident on his cheeks also didn’t help. He took the plate with more force than necessary. “You fed me. Now go away.”
“No.” Sanji took the time to go to each of the three doors that accessed the Aquarium Bar and turned the locks.
Zoro’s voice took on a slightly panicked tone. “What are you doing?”
“Giving us privacy.”
“What if I don’t want privacy?”
Sanji walked back over to where Zoro was seated and sat himself, in front of Zoro. He took out a cigarette, lit it, and inhaled the soothing smoke. Zoro looked anywhere but at Sanji. “We’re not going to ignore this,” Sanji said.
“Why not?” Zoro sounded the tiniest bit petulant. “It was a thing that happened and now it’s done, and we never have to mention it again.”
“Do you really mean that?” Sanji was concerned, and maybe a little anxious, that he’d been mistaken about this. He’d spent the entire afternoon and evening debating what to do about this twist in their relationship. He’d decided he’d be willing to give it a go if Zoro was interested. But perhaps Zoro wasn’t, and this had been a mistake.
Zoro didn’t answer. The color on his cheeks and ears darkened and spread down his neck and chest. He looked studiously down at the plate clenched between his fingers. The plate began to crack.
Sanji took the plate from him and set it on the floor. He took another drag from his cigarette, then set it in one of the ashtrays that littered the room. He tried to appear calm, but his heart was hammering in his chest. Turning on the couch to face Zoro, one knee bent, his foot tucked under his other leg, he reached out to nudge Zoro’s chin up.
Zoro’s one eye had a somewhat wild look in it, like a cornered colt. He was normally so confident and self-possessed. To see him unsure, maybe even a little scared, floored Sanji. Sanji realized that Zoro wasn’t sure what to do about this twist, either, and it made Sanji feel a hell of a lot better knowing that he wasn’t alone.
“Are you going to kiss me?” Zoro blurted. His hands were gripping his cross-legged knees.
A smile curved the corner of Sanji’s mouth, even though he was having trouble catching a breath. “What if I did?”
Zoro appeared as if he couldn’t decide whether to bolt or stand his ground. He settled on the latter, his chin tilting in challenge. “I wouldn’t kill you.”
Something caught in Sanji’s throat. It felt a lot like love, but he wasn’t ready for that yet. Instead, he closed the distance between them and pressed his lips to Zoro’s.
It was better than the first time. Better than the second and third kiss, too. Zoro’s mouth parted slightly when Sanji’s lips met his, and he released a shaky sigh that did Sanji in. Sanji felt the rush of desire flow through him along with a fierce feeling of possession. He angled his head and deepened the kiss. He claimed Zoro’s mouth, searing kiss after kiss onto the other man. Zoro’s hands now gripped Sanji’s elbows and was giving as good as he got. His kisses were rough, almost sloppy, with a hint of teeth scraping against Sanji’s lower lip.
Sanji finally broke for air and looked at Zoro. Zoro's lips were kiss-swollen and his face was flushed with arousal. He panted as if they’d been fighting. The slightly stunned look in his eye made Sanji’s stomach flip. He might take Zoro right now on this couch.
Zoro swallowed thickly and licked his lips. “Is it always like that?” he asked in a shaken voice.
“Like what?” Sanji ran his finger from beneath Zoro’s chin along his strong jawline to brush against the earrings in his ear. They chimed almost inaudibly.
“Like that.” Zoro made a helpless gesture. “Kissing.”
Sanji stilled. Even his heart stopped. “You’ve never done it before?”
“No. Why should I?” The mullish tilt was back in Zoro’s jaw, as if daring Sanji to say anything disparaging. “Never wanted to before.”
Before now. Before he’d kissed Sanji.
A whoosh of air left Sanji as if he’d been punched in the solar plexus. Holy shit. Zoro had never kissed anyone. Sanji was his first. It explained the roughness. Roughness that Sanji liked. Oh fuck. If Sanji didn’t want to possess Zoro before, he certainly did now.
Zoro was beginning to look like he might run again so Sanji slid his hand around the nape of Zoro’s neck. It seemed like ages ago that he was questioning his sanity on not being able to feel anything. Right now, every single fiber of his being was on fire and he could feel everything. The prickly hairs on the nape of Zoro’s neck. The heat of Zoro’s breath. The softness of the cushion beneath his rear. The rasp of the material of his shirt against his arm as he brought his other hand up to touch Zoro’s cheek. The warmth of Zoro’s skin beneath his fingertips. He felt alive.
Zoro exhaled shakily - nervous, Sanji now realized. Sanji pretended he wasn’t falling in love. He kissed Zoro again, gently, almost reverently, until passion alit once more. Then he was lost in a haze of want, pushing Zoro back onto the couch, covering him, kissing and kissing until his lips were numb. Zoro’s hands were on him, touching him, clutching at his hair, his arms, his back, fisting in the fabric of his suit coat. Unbidden sounds of appreciation, want and desire rose from Zoro’s throat. He kissed back without reserve, putting as much effort into it as he did everything else.
Sanji wasn’t sure which one of them came first. He didn’t care. While kissing and kissing, they’d rubbed against each other on the sofa until both their trousers were sticky. Sanji was nestled between Zoro’s muscular thighs, their bodies pressed intimately together through their clothes. Zoro was randomly grabbing and letting go of various parts of Sanji’s body. Sanji nibbled lightly at Zoro’s neck. Eventually, Sanji folded his hands on Zoro’s breastbone and rested his chin on them. He could feel the rise and fall of Zoro’s chest and Zoro’s heart beating steadily beneath his palms.
Zoro looked sleepy-eyed, kiss-bruised, and happy. Sanji suppressed the weird urge to beat his chest in pride. Besides, he was comfortable and a little sleepy himself. It had been a wild day. He’d gone from possibly falling back into the well of despair to humping Zoro into a contented orgasm in the Aquarium Bar. He would never claim that his life was dull since joining the Straw Hat crew.
“We’re gonna do that again, right?” Zoro ventured tentatively, breaking the satisfying silence in the room.
“And more,” Sanji promised, feeling the faint tinkle of desire rousing in him again.
Zoro must’ve felt it, too, because he shifted his hips slightly beneath Sanji’s. “Um, I’ve never done this before, either. You know,” his hand came off Sanji’s back and Sanji could feel him wave it at their bodies, “this.”
Sanji bit his knuckle as he reined in his composure. “I thought you said you wouldn’t kill me.”
Zoro’s brow furrowed. “What?”
“Never mind.” Sanji adjusted himself again and willed away his arousal. He had the strong - and protective - desire to do this properly. There was plenty of time. “I figured out that you hadn’t.”
“Okay. Good.” Zoro put his hand down on Sanji’s back again, a pleasant weight between his shoulder blades. His other arm was pillowed behind his head. “I didn’t want you to expect any of that crap you do with women.”
Sanji’s eyebrow raised and a smile twitched his lips. “That crap I do with women?”
“You know, going all noodly and romantic and that shit.”
Laughter bubbled in Sanji’s belly. “I didn’t think you’d do that.”
“Damn right I won’t,” Zoro sounded self-assured, “no matter what Nami’s books say.”
“You’ve read her books?” Sanji knew what kind of material Nami read. They were the type that made his nose bleed. “I didn’t think you knew how to read.”
“I can read.” Zoro scowled, but then went on. “I wondered one time what this might entail. There was a lot of touching and moaning and thrusting. Couldn’t see the appeal when my hand works just fine.” Zoro’s voice abruptly roughened with self-consciousness. “Might change my mind, though.”
Damn it, Sanji was going to fall in love with this man. Or maybe he already had, but hadn’t realized it yet. Either way, he was sunk. He pushed up to rise over Zoro, their mouths millimeters away. “Oh, I promise you will.”
He sealed that promise with a kiss that went right to his core.
There was no question that Sanji felt it.
End