They hardly noticed the door clicking shut behind them as they tumbled into the inn room. Zoro’s katanas went one way, his clothes the other, and Sanji pushed him onto the bed in order to feast on him with hands and lips and tongue. It was rare that they got a real bed. It was usually rushed handjobs in the storage room or blowjobs in the bath with Zoro on his knees gazing up at Sanji in willing surrender.
But tonight they had a room to themselves. No one was injured. No government was about to be overthrown. It was just him and Zoro and time.
Zoro was breathing heavily already, flushed and sloe-eyed, moonlight coming through the window bathing him in pale silver light. They were on the second floor of the inn, facing the forest. The room had a bed big enough for two, an ensuite bath, and most importantly, privacy. No Strawhats were staying there. Sanji didn’t have to cook breakfast in the morning. The log pose wouldn't be set for another day.
An owl hooted in the distance. The bed linens crinkled beneath Zoro. Sanji’s shirt was untucked and unbuttoned, cuffs loose, as he knelt at the end of the bed. Miles of muscle and tanned flesh was splayed in front of him, Zoro’s arousal lying heavily against his lower belly. Sanji leaned in, pushing Zoro’s thighs back, exposing him to the moonlight. For a heartbeat, he forgot to breathe. Then he lowered his mouth, and the noise that Zoro made when Sanji licked him sent satisfaction down his spine.
Sanji closed his eyes, inhaling the thick, musky scent of male arousal. Part of him still couldn't believe he craved this, the intimacy of it, the way Zoro opened himself completely. But there was little difference between sexes with the act. Zoro tasted like clean skin and reacted with cursing and breathy moans, and Sanji could feel toes curling against his shoulders as Zoro braced.
Sanji worked him with deliberate attention, alternating between broad strokes and focused pressure, learning what made Zoro’s voice break and what made his hips buck. Zoro fisted the sheets, then reached for Sanji's hair before his grip fell away again, as if he couldn't decide where to put them. His sounds became more frequent, more desperate, each breath catching higher in Zoro's throat.
Zoro writhed on the bed, thighs tense where Sanji held them, vocal in his pleasure beneath Sanji’s tongue. Sanji paused to murmur permission, and immediately Zoro’s hand found his own flesh. Bare feet pushed against his shoulders, Zoro’s body lifting urgently against his mouth. With his eyes closed, Sanji could concentrate on the sound of Zoro losing control, feel the tremors beneath his lips and palms, taste the salt and heat of Zoro's want.
A cut-off shout filled the room as Zoro crashed over into orgasm, body spasming around Sanji’s tongue. Heat surged through Sanji – possessive, visceral, edged with something softer. He continued his attention until he felt Zoro fall limp with a low rumble of gratitude. He pressed a kiss against a thigh before opening his eyes. Zoro lay lax, catching his breath, belly and chest spattered with his spend. A primal part of Sanji swelled with pride that this was all for him.
Sanji sat back on his heels, taking in the sight, and realized he'd been holding his breath. Six months ago, he would never have imagined this. He loved the way women looked, felt, and everything about them. He had spent his pocket money in brothels any time he could, worshipping lush curves and breasts, sinking into silken heat. He’d never even glanced at another man, completely uninterested in them sexually.
But then came Zoro – big, brash, and slightly dense. He had muscles instead of breasts, smelled like sweat, and could get lost in a toilet stall. Sanji fought with him constantly, worked with him seamlessly, and trusted him implicitly. And little by little, he chipped away at Sanji’s defenses. A shy smile at an unintended compliment. An unfettered laugh after hearing a dumb joke. A scrunched nose in concentration with an unfamiliar task. A feral grin after a battle, shared exclusively with him. A shoulder bump of subtle affection at the stern of the Sunny, as the island they’d rescued grew smaller in the distance.
Sanji thought nothing about it at first, admitting friendship at most. But the more time he spent with Zoro, the more time he wanted to spend with Zoro. And he found himself slowly falling for the man, until the only thing separating them was the bedroom.
It felt insurmountable until it wasn’t, because the joy on Zoro’s face the first time Sanji worked up the nerve to try a kiss turned Sanji’s heart inside out. And after that, it was just trial and error, finding his own boundaries – what he could give and what still felt impossible. Zoro's unguarded abandon, holding nothing back, sealed his fate. Because while women gave him nosebleeds, Zoro made him forget how to breathe.
And now look at them. Sanji brushed another kiss against Zoro’s thigh before rising and heading to the ensuite. His reflection in the mirror showed hunger and passion and happiness. His lips curved briefly before he grabbed a damp towel, to clean Zoro up. The night was still young, and his own body ached to be inside the man he loved.
End