Liquid Courage




Sanji watched with both amazement and disgust as Zoro tilted the sake barrel to his lips.  The crowd egged Zoro on – Nami’s voice ringing clearly above the rest.  Worn, curling wanted posters plastered the smoky tavern’s walls, stained brown with old, dried blood from bounties claimed.  Flames danced in their glass houses on the wheel helms made into chandeliers.  Scuffed wooden tables were bolted to the floor so as not to be knocked over and destroyed in the inevitable fights that broke out.  The open windows let in the salty scent from the sea.

Sanji’s cigarette smoke joined the smoggy air and he eyed the urchin-haired bartender behind the length of bar.  The cocky middle-aged man didn’t look so cocky anymore.  Sanji supposed he felt a little sorry for the guy.  The contest was a great racket.  If a patron drank an entire barrel full of sake, it was free.  If the patron failed to finish, they had to pay for what they’d drunk.  Most people, Sanji had learned, passed out before they reached the bottom of the barrel.  But most people weren’t Zoro.

“Finish it!” Nami bellowed in Zoro’s ear, making his earrings chime.  It was Zoro’s second barrel – the first had only wet his thirst for more – and the price was high.  If he didn’t finish, the bartender would make him pay for both barrels, not to mention what Nami would do to him.

Zoro leaned back on his stool, gulping the sake as if it were water.  A few droplets spilled down his chin.  The swarthy, uncultured swine filling the tavern banged their cups on the tables, chanting, “Drink!  Drink!  Drink!  Drink!”, while Franky performed a weird routine in the background, spelling out Zoro’s name with his body.

The last sips of sake slid down Zoro’s gullet.  He thumped the empty barrel on the floor and released a long, loud belch that blew the hair back on the people standing closest to him.  UUUUURRRRRRPPPPPPP.

The crowd cheered.  Nami squealed and hugged Zoro, and Sanji muttered jealously, “I could’ve done that.”  If two barrels resulted in a hug from his sweet Nami-swan, three barrels might garner him a kiss.  Sanji threw his arms in the air.  “I’m next!”

His volunteering to be the next contestant was drowned out by the roar of approval from the tavern’s patrons for Zoro.  Eyes flashing with beli signs, Nami rushed from table to table, taking money from the bets she’d won.  The bartender slumped miserably.  Zoro belched again, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and squinted as he looked around the tavern.  Rising from the stool, he staggered like a pachinko ball, first bumping into the empty barrel, then knocking against the bar, and finally tottering into a table.

“Whoa,” Zoro said, sitting down on the tabletop.  He clutched the edge and blinked rapidly.  “That was some good shit.”

One of the burly pirates at the table smacked Zoro heartily on the back in congratulations and sent Zoro sprawling face-first into Sanji.  Sanji caught him before he knocked them both over.  “Learn how to walk, shitty drunk.”

“M’not drunk.”  Zoro’s glazed eyes said otherwise.  His hands kneaded Sanji’s forearms.  “I gotta piss.”

“What are you telling me for?  Do you need someone to hold your dick?”  Sanji shoved Zoro off of him.  Zoro stumbled backwards, but managed not to fall.  His hand went for the hilt of a katana.

“Wanna fight, blondie?” Zoro said, gaze narrowing.

Sanji grinned around his cigarette.  Wiping the floor with Zoro’s drunken ass would be a cheap way to have fun.  The night was looking up.

“Sanji-kun,” Nami sang from across the tavern.  “Take Zoro back to the ship.”

“Yes, Nami-swan!”  Sanji sent her his love and obedience with a heartfelt salute, and then shot Zoro a withering look.  “Come on, dipshit.  Let’s go.”

Zoro straightened, wobbled, and his hand fell to his side.  “I still gotta piss.”

“How wonderful for you,” Sanji said, leading the way outside, amused by the way Zoro pinged against the tables between the bar and the door.  It was a rare occasion that Zoro got drunk – it took an abundance of alcohol to get him merely tipsy, and he usually didn’t have enough money to reach even that state.  Zoro wasn’t fond of having his senses dulled by alcohol, either, not wanting to be felled like a sloppy swordsman.  He’d trained so his tolerance would be extremely high for that reason.

Sanji finished his cigarette as Zoro relieved himself like an uncouth cur against the side of a building.  The pirate quarter of Boomingtown was alive with activity.  Taverns outnumbered the other businesses in the quarter, raucous laughter, curses, and fights spilling from every one.  Disreputable traders lurked in nameless doorways.  Scruffy kids bumped into random pirates on the street, earning hard cuffs to the head.  They ran away with gleaming smiles, pockets full of stolen coin.  Perfumed ladies overflowing with beauty twitched their skirts at passersby with an invitation to visit the several brothels along the street.

Sanji’s heart pattered at the looks he received from a trio of ladies nearby.  He thought their corsets appeared a bit tight and they might need assistance loosening them.  He’d hate for them to faint.  And if they brought him inside to show him their gratitude, he wouldn’t mind.  It had been a while since he’d availed himself of a woman’s pleasure.

Zoro staggered out of the alley, reminding Sanji that he couldn’t do anything until he got the disgusting idiot back to the ship.  Sanji crushed his cigarette butt beneath his heel and shot the ladies an apologetic smile, glad they weren’t able to hear the sourness of his tongue.  “Damned marimo.  I’m going to kick your head in when we get back to the Sunny.”

“Heh.  I’d like to see—” Zoro bumped into Sanji and tottered, “—see you try.”

Annoyed, Sanji grabbed Zoro’s upper arm and dragged him in the direction of the docks.  “I should just leave your ass and go and pay a visit to that brothel.”

“We’re going to a brothel?”

Sanji snorted.  “You wouldn’t know what to do at one.”

Zoro scowled and tilted his chin in a way that meant he’d taken it as a challenge.  The thought of Zoro rampaging like a bull through a brothel made Sanji shudder and vow to protect the ladies at all costs.

A hand grew out of the gangplank and stopped Zoro from falling off the bouncing board, as Sanji pulled him along.  Sanji smiled in the direction of the crow’s nest.  “Thank you, Robin-chwan!  But his safety isn’t worth your exerting yourself!”

Robin didn’t answer, or acknowledge that she’d heard Sanji.  Sanji would have to bring her something to drink and eat before returning to town.  Maybe she’d want to show her gratitude for Sanji’s thoughtfulness and he wouldn’t have to return to town at all.

Sanji pinched his nose to stop the bleeding and hustled Zoro across the deck lawn and into the men’s cabin.  He flipped the switch for the gas lanterns hanging on the cabin wall, shoved Zoro in the direction of his bunk, and debated whether to put on a fresh shirt.

Discarded dirty clothing, crumb-filled plates, medical texts, crude drawings and even cruder song lyrics, a broken sandal, full ashtrays, empty booze bottles, some of Usopp’s tools, and a dismembered invention littered the flat surfaces of the cabin.  A burn hole singed the couch.  Usopp and Luffy’s black powder-burned outlines marred one of the walls.  The crew’s wanted posters hung with honor on another wall.  Lockers, with the men’s names written neatly on them, overflowed with items that spilled from the partially open doors.  Sheets and blankets hung like curtains from two of the top bunks.  One of the bottom bunks was stripped bare.  A red ball was stuck in the deck head from being thrown too hard.   

“Is this the brothel?” Zoro asked, scratching his chin as he looked around.

Sanji snorted and opened his locker.  “I didn’t think it was possible, but you’re even stupider when drunk.”

“Not drunk.”  Sanji could see Zoro wobbling in the reflection of the mirror hanging on the locker door and rolled his eyes.  Zoro turned around, caught his balance, and squinted in Sanji’s direction.  “Are you the whore?”

Sanji whipped around.  “What?!”  He couldn’t have heard that right.

Zoro stumbled leftward as he pulled his shirt and haramaki over his head.  “How much?”

Sanji didn’t know whether to be angry, dismayed, or laugh his ass off.  Zoro was plowed.  “I’m not a girl, idiot.”

“I sure as hell hope not,” Zoro said.  The shirt and haramaki were tossed negligently onto the floor and Zoro wove unsteadily closer to Sanji.

Several confusing ingredients of Zoro’s makeup in Sanji’s mind suddenly made perfect sense.  Sanji wanted to smack his forehead for being such a dunce.  The indifference towards females, the lack of participation in the “education” of Luffy, Usopp, and Chopper about the fairer sex, the complete disregard for anything resembling manners or cleanliness, the perverse way he’d lovingly clean his swords – it all meant that Zoro didn’t like women.  No wonder he and Zoro didn’t get along, with such a fundamental difference between them.

“You could’ve said something, dickhead,” Sanji told him, with an irritated shake of his head.  It’s not like Sanji would’ve held it against Zoro – though, it would’ve given Sanji a whole lot more ammunition in their verbal warfare.  Sanji smiled at the possibilities.

“You know, you kind of look like Sanji,” Zoro said and Sanji’s eyebrows climbed.  Zoro was close enough that Sanji could smell the sake on his breath and see his unfocused eyes.  Standing beside Sanji, Zoro propped a forearm against the locker and tried to lean in towards him.  His forearm skittered against the metal surface when the sake sloshed in his brain and he stumbled forward.  He caught himself by snaking an arm around Sanji’s waist and banging them both against Sanji’s open locker door.

“Oi, asshole, watch it,” Sanji growled, feeling the mirror behind his shoulders.  It better not have broken.

“Talk like him, too,” Zoro continued as if he hadn’t bumbled into Sanji.  From behind the strands of hair that had fallen in front of his eyes, Sanji saw Zoro lick his lips and the arm around his waist felt suddenly like a vice.  “But Sanji’d never let me do this.”

Swifter than a drunk person should be able to move, Zoro darted in and pressed his lips to Sanji’s.  Sanji banged the back of his head against the locker door in shock.  Zoro was kissing him.  Zoro was fucking kissing him!  Badly.  Not that Sanji wanted a better kiss, but Zoro just stood there with his mouth covering Sanji’s, not moving his lips.

But he was certainly moving his hand!  Sanji meeped against Zoro’s mouth and his eyes bugged.  Zoro had shoved his hand down the front of Sanji’s trousers a heartbeat after their mouths had met and was pawing at Sanji’s cock.  Sanji’s lack of clean boxers meant Zoro was palm to bare skin and holy fuck Zoro was touching his cock.

Fuck, it felt good.

Wait, no!  It was not good.  Zoro was touching Sanji’s cock! 

Sanji pulled his knee up between them and tried to kick Zoro away, but Zoro’s arm was down Sanji’s trousers and all he succeeded in doing was sending them both sprawling on the floor.  Zoro’s katana sheaths clanked.  Zoro landed on his back, Sanji landed on top of him, and Zoro’s hand was still wrapped around Sanji’s cock.

Zoro’s fingers flexed and he grinned drunkenly.  “Good idea,” he said, and he started stroking Sanji’s cock.  He arched his hips, grinding his pelvis against the back of the hand shoved down Sanji’s trousers.  His other hand clamped on Sanji’s ass.

“What the fuck—nngh—are you doing?!”  Sanji had to get free from the groping pervert.  “Let go of me, you—rrrgghh—”  Damn, Zoro was good with his hands.  “Nuhhgg—”

“Yeah,” Zoro panted, hooked his ankle around the back of Sanji’s knee, and bucked harder.


Sanji’s fingernails dug into Zoro’s bare shoulders and he pressed his sweaty forehead against the back of his wrist.  Pleasure melted his spine and the idea of moving vanished with a flick of Zoro’s thumb over Sanji’s cockhead.  He was really letting this happen.  His breath hitched, his body tightening.  Fuck.  Zoro’s rough, deft strokes were doing him in.  He never would’ve thought—  he didn’t— he— “Nnrrgh.

Sanji came hard, spilling over Zoro’s hand and into the trousers.  Spots danced behind his tightly closed eyelids and blood rushed in his ears.  Climax blew the thoughts from his mind and it wasn’t until his cock became too sensitive that reality intruded again.

Sanji pushed up and back on his knees, grabbing Zoro’s wrist to keep him from accidentally ripping Sanji’s cock off.  “Enough,” Sanji grunted, his voice as wrecked as the rest of him.  Zoro was spread before him, bare skin flushed, chest heaving, and face slack with lust.  His erection pushed against the material of his pants. 

Panic twisted Sanji’s gut and he tugged Zoro’s hand free from the waistband of his trousers.  He scrambled to his feet and choked when he saw Zoro bring his come-dampened fingers to his mouth and lick.  Sanji turned on his heel and did what any sane ladies man would do – he fled.

“Wait,” Zoro called after him, as the cabin door was swinging shut.  “Does that mean it was free?”


Sanji failed to drown himself in the bath after his encounter with Zoro and instead tried drowning himself in cooking to forget what had happened.  He puffed on his cigarette and kneaded the bread dough with more vehemence than finesse.  Flour decorated his apron covering his clean clothes (that he’d thankfully found in the bathroom).  The scent of pastries baking in the oven didn’t soothe his nerves.

He couldn’t believe he’d allowed Zoro to jerk him off.  What was wrong with him?  Zoro was a guy, for fuck’s sake, and an asshole to boot.  Okay, sure, Zoro was pretty damned good at giving hand jobs, which made sense since he liked having sex with men, but Sanji wasn’t the man that Zoro should be giving hand jobs to!

Sanji pounded the dough with his fists, switching his dwindling cigarette to the other side of his mouth.  Fuck.  What the hell was he going to do?  Zoro was never going to let him live it down.  Or worse, Zoro would want a repeat performance.  Sanji’s cock stirred traitorously at the thought.  He jabbed his cigarette out in the overflowing ashtray and immediately lit another.  The haze of smoke hung heavily in the galley.

The only recourse that Sanji could think of was that he’d have to kick Zoro’s molesting ass.  That way Zoro would know that Sanji hadn’t appreciated having a hand job forced on him and that it would never, ever happen again.  No matter how much Sanji had enjoyed it.

Sanji cursed, adjusted his hard-on through his trousers, and went back to punching the bread dough.  Damned, stupid, drunken marimo…


Sanji waited all of the following morning, but Zoro never said a word about what had transpired the night prior.  No innuendo, no sly gestures, not even a knowing look.  Zoro went about his morning as if nothing had happened, clomping in for breakfast stinking of sweat from his workout, eating like a slower version of Luffy, and then tromping back outside again to nap in the shade of the tree on deck. 

It was driving Sanji insane.  He knew Zoro was simply lying in wait to let it fly.  The bastard probably had a ton of new, cutting insults to unleash, ranging from Sanji becoming a woman to Sanji’s dick size.

Sanji seethed and grew more restless from anticipation as the morning dragged by.  The galley gleamed from the aggressive cleaning he’d given it while waiting for Zoro to show up.  Zoro never showed and Sanji finally snapped.

Nami fluttered by with a cheerful, “Hello, Sanji-kun,” as Sanji climbed the steps to the bow.  Her beauty made his heart sing before it plummeted again at the sight of Zoro staring after Nami with a worried look.  The anger at the lack of confrontation swept over Sanji again.

Zoro eyed Sanji as he stomped up the remaining steps.  “Did I win last night?” he asked, knocking Sanji for a loop.

“What?”

“Did I win last night?” Zoro repeated, scratching his ass.  “I don’t remember much after I started on the second barrel, and that witch keeps cooing at me.  It’s freaking me out.”

Sanji stared at Zoro for a long moment before saying slowly, “You don’t remember anything?”

Zoro shook his head and shot another apprehensive glance in the direction Nami had gone.  “Should I worry that she’s going to cut me into pieces and sell the parts?”

“You won.  Nami-san’s ecstatic,” Sanji said, tapping the toe of his shoe on the deck.

Twenty minutes later, Zoro slammed against the mast with the force of his three-katana block against Sanji’s kick and panted, “If I won and Nami’s happy, why are you trying to kick my ass?”


The party was winding down.  The full orchestra had finished the last song and performers were packing their instruments away.  Streamers drooped.  Candles melted to stubs on the plate-strewn tables.  Traces of wine lingered in glasses discarded on any flat surface. Linen napkins and confetti littered the carpeting.  A few drunken revelers swayed to the music in their heads on the black and white marble dance floor.  Finely dressed locals drifted from the ballroom in pairs or groups, heading home for the night.

Using his suit jacket as a pillow, Chopper was curled up beneath a table, sound asleep.  Luffy had lost his suit and shirt sleeves at some point during the party, and was currently going from table to table, eating any leftover food he could find.  Nami and Robin, beautiful in evening dresses, were conversing with their hosts.  Franky and Usopp had discarded their suit coats, loosened the ties they’d been forced to wear, and were playing cards with new friends.  Zoro had vanished hours ago.  Sanji figured the idiot had gotten lost looking for the toilet.

Suit coat unbuttoned, Sanji leaned back in a chair and took a drag on his cigarette.  He had a lingering buzz from the copious amount of wine that he’d drunk.  The celebration of Wellington ’s victory against the sadistic religious cult that had been terrorizing the city had started early and gone well into the night.  Sanji had been blessed with filling many ladies’ dance cards throughout the evening.  Dinner had been masterful, as well, and he’d visited the kitchens to give his props to the chef.

A gentle hand touched his shoulder.  “Cook—” Robin paused and corrected herself with a soft smile.  “Sanji-san, Nami asked if you would find Zoro-san.  We are preparing to leave.”

“Of course!  I am but a humble servant to my dazzling Queens .”  Sanji captured Robin’s hand, pressed a kiss to her knuckles, and tried not to faint in joy from her allowance of such trespass.  “I shall find that brainless moron, tie him up, and deposit him at your feet as a gift.”

Robin laughed lightly.  “Meeting us at the carriage will be fine, Sanji-san.”

As she returned to Nami’s side, Sanji stabbed out his cigarette, buttoned his jacket, and floated off with wings of love on his feet.  Perhaps they would reward him after he’d succeeded with his task.  He hadn’t gotten to dance with either of them all evening.  Maybe they’d like to share a private dance with him in their cabin once they’d returned to the ship.  A private, naked dance… 

Sanji stopped his nosebleed with a handkerchief as he stepped into the grand foyer.  The main doors stood open and groomsmen assisted people to their carriages as they pulled up to the manor.  Sanji eyed the door, hoping Zoro hadn’t wandered off outside.  Searching for him would take too long if that were the case and Sanji would have to kill him once found for cutting into Sanji’s private dance time with Nami and Robin.

Turning the opposite way, Sanji began hunting through the interior of the manor for Zoro.  Ornate mirrors and gilded framed oil paintings hung on the stone walls.  Scrolled furniture made of dark wood partially hid the richly colored plush carpets that covered the floors.  Vases, golden statues, and other treasures were displayed prominently on pedestals and in glass cabinets. 

Sanji nodded to servants that he passed, occasionally asking if they’d seen a big, dumb ox in a suit wander by.  No one had seen Zoro, but Sanji was undaunted.  Sanji searched rooms set up for games, for seduction, and for study.  The restrooms were empty.  He slipped through an unused dining room and into the servants’ areas of the manor.  The laundry, small dining area, and kitchen yielded no luck.  Sanji spared another praising word for the chef before sliding past the wash boys to head downstairs into the wine cellar.

It was the first place Sanji should have thought of to look.  Zoro was in the cool cellar, sprawled on the dirty floor in front of the giant wooden casks.  Kongo, their hosts’ massive personal guard, was slumped against a tall wine rack.  Gas lanterns hung from the ceiling, their lights glinting on what appeared to be hundreds of empty wine bottles strewn around.  Zoro and Kongo’s combined snores echoed against the stone walls.

The rows of racks seemed light of stock and Sanji made a sound of disgust.  “Ill-mannered ass,” he said as he walked over to Zoro.  Zoro’s tie had disappeared and his dress shirt was unbuttoned obscenely to the ratty haramaki around his waist.  His suit coat sleeves and shirt sleeves were shoved up his forearms.  His katanas stood propped against one of the giant casks.  A snot bubble expanded from his nose with each elephant-sized snore.

“Oi, shit swordsman, wake up,” Sanji said with a drop-kick to Zoro’s stomach. 

Zoro oofed and bolted upright.  Hand pressed against his stomach, he swayed a little as he looked confusedly up at Sanji from his seat on the floor.  “What?”

“Time to go,” Sanji told him.

“Huh?”

Sanji kicked him much lighter in the thigh.  “I said: time to go.”

Zoro blinked the slow blink of someone who’d imbibed heavily.  “Where?”

“Fucker, how much did you drink?” Sanji said with a scowl when his foot bumped into an empty bottle, sending it rolling.  “We’re guests, moron.  You’re not supposed to drink them dry!”

“Hn.”  Zoro yawned, lifted his arms in a stretch, and scratched the back of his head.  “‘M’tired.  What d’you want?”

“I said we’re leaving!”

“Oh.”  Zoro smacked his lips, a sleep tear caught in the corner of his left eye.  He looked around as if he didn’t recognize where he was, but otherwise didn’t move.

“Will you get up already?”  Sanji bent and grabbed him by the arm, intending to yank him to his feet.  Or drag him out of the cellar on his ass if need be.

Zoro apparently had other plans, though, and he wrapped his arm behind Sanji’s knees and tumbled Sanji onto the floor.

Sanji’s head smacked against the stone with a nasty crack.  Lying on his back, he rubbed his head and cursed viciously.  “Ow!  Fuck!  You stupid shit.”  He was going to murder Zoro.

Zoro crawled up and over Sanji on his hands and knees.  His body smelled like he’d fallen into a wine vat and he gazed down at Sanji wearing a lazy grin.  “Hey.”

Sanji’s heart leapt to his throat in sudden distress, blocking the next round of curses.  He was on his back, on the floor, with a drunken Zoro hovering over him.  Not good, not good!  Months might have passed, but Sanji was still traumatized from the last time Zoro was this drunk and this close to him.

Zoro began lowering his head.  Sanji gibbered silently.  He had to do something.  He had to say something.  He had to kick the pervert in the balls and run far, far away. 

So why wasn’t he moving? 

Zoro’s lips connected slightly off course, catching the side of Sanji’s mouth.  The kiss was as terrible as the first one, nothing more than a firm pressure and a strong exhale from Zoro that gusted across Sanji’s upper lip.  Sanji’s stomach coiled into quivering knots. 

Zoro’s mouth sort of slid off Sanji’s like he couldn’t expend the effort to lift his head, and then the rest of him dropped heavily onto Sanji.  The impact of his weight knocked some sense into Sanji.  “Get off!” he yipped, shoving at Zoro’s shoulders.

Zoro’s response was to hold on tighter and nuzzle Sanji’s neck.  “D’wanna. Comfy.”

“Well, I’m not!”  Sanji’s legs were between Zoro’s thighs, which gave him the option of kneeing Zoro in the ass or flipping them over.  But flipping them over would put Sanji in the exact same position he was when Zoro had jerked him off, and the enthusiastic response from his cock made his mind spasm in panic.  He did not want to have sex with Zoro!

“Mmn,” Zoro hummed against the curve of Sanji’s neck, his mouth burning Sanji’s skin.  “Wanna fuck?”

Yes.  “No!”

Zoro ground his hips down against Sanji’s.  Sanji could feel Zoro’s erection firming beside his own through the material of their trousers.  “You can do me.”

Sanji’s mouth ran dry and all the remaining blood in his body made a straight shot for his cock.

Zoro nosed under Sanji’s jaw.  “C’mon, sweetheart, I’m horny.”

The endearment made Sanji sputter incredulously.  Sweetheart?”

Sanji could feel the rotten smile against his Adam’s apple.  “That’s what I’m gonna call you from now on.”

“Die,” Sanji growled, shoving at Zoro’s shoulders. 

Zoro’s husky laugh pooled hotly in Sanji’s gut. 

“Bas—nngh.”  Sanji bit his tongue as Zoro ground against him again.  Shit, that felt good.

“You’re so fucking hot when you’re mad,” Zoro’s lips branded Sanji’s skin, “even when you’re a jackass.”

Sanji rocked his hips upwards reflexively, meeting Zoro’s steadily building thrusts.  The friction made his eyes roll back.  He clung to Zoro’s shoulders and swallowed a moan.  What was he doing?  Wasn’t he supposed to be stopping— fuck— stop— oh god—

“One of these days, I’m going to break,” Zoro growled, his knees tightening on either side of Sanji’s hips.  “I’m going to break and take you right out on the deck where everyone can see.”

Sanji squeezed his eyelids shut, heat licking at his spine.  Zoro pumped his hips faster, harder.  The steely length of Zoro’s cock rubbed beside Sanji’s, and Sanji would have done anything to have their clothing gone.  His fingers twisted the material of Zoro’s suit coat, bucking into Zoro’s thrusts.

“I’d fuck you hard—” Zoro’s rhythm faltered and breathing turned ragged, “—fuck you until it’s only me that you want— ever— forever—”

Sanji’s head scraped against the stone floor as he threw it back and shoved his knuckles into his mouth to keep from crying out as orgasm slammed through him.  His body jerked helplessly, cock pulsing, shooting come into his boxers.  Zoro rutted against him savagely, driving towards his own release.  Sanji was lost in the buzz of aftershock, heart racing, lungs starving for air.

“Sanji—nngghh—” Zoro came shuddering against Sanji, and the sound of his name on Zoro’s lips was like a lightning jolt.  Sanji had just had sex with Zoro and, this time, Zoro knew who he was.

Dread, mortification, and some other weird emotion Sanji couldn’t name coalesced in a ball in his stomach.  He stared, frozen, at the cross beams of the ceiling as Zoro collapsed atop of him.  What the hell did he do?  How could he let this happen?  What did it mean?  Oh fuck, had Kongo woken up?

A great, honking snore expelled from Zoro’s lips and tickled Sanji’s neck.  The sensation vaulted Sanji into motion.  In a blink of an eye, he’d thrown Zoro off, leapt to his feet, and fled to the opposite end of the cellar.  Pressing into the corner made by two wine racks, Sanji drew a cigarette out of his pocket and cursed his shaking hand as he lit it.  The deep drag he took from the cigarette did nothing to calm the storm inside of him.

Zoro’s snores blended with Kongo’s, who was still passed out across the room.  The two slept on, oblivious to the blonde having a breakdown in the corner.


Sanji’s fretting had been for nothing, because Zoro didn’t seem to remember what he’d done to Sanji.  “I’m not sure what happened after that,” Zoro told Luffy about drinking with Kongo, when, during breakfast the next morning, Luffy asked where Zoro had gone.  Zoro flicked a glance at Sanji and rubbed the back of his neck. “But apparently I had a good time.”

Zoro had had a great time.  Sanji couldn’t forget it.  How could he?  It was like a horrifying nightmare that he couldn’t wake up from and he didn’t know how to save himself. 

Zoro, for his part, didn’t let on that he’d molested Sanji on the floor of the cellar in Wellington, or that he had any more perverted notions of getting into Sanji’s pants locked in that stupid head of his.  The bastard ate, trained, and slept like normal, with the occasional roughhousing with Luffy, Usopp, and Chopper thrown in.  He helped Franky with the ship, ignored Robin and Nami, and never failed to snipe back at Sanji when Sanji bitched deservedly at him.  There were no implications, no hooded glances, and no provocative touches to show he felt anything towards Sanji but loathing.

Sanji was close to pulling his hair out over it.  How could Zoro want to fuck Sanji and still treat Sanji like a piece of shit?  Not that Sanji wanted Zoro to treat him any other way.  In fact, Sanji wanted Zoro to treat him worse than usual, to make up for what he’d done.  But it didn’t matter, anyway, because there wasn’t even a hint of lust from Zoro towards Sanji as weeks went by.

“What the fuck are you doing in here?!” Sanji exclaimed, startled, when Zoro barged into the bathroom.  The cool cloth folded on Sanji’s head fell into the steaming bath water with a plop.

Sunlight streamed through the window above the tub.  Puddles formed near the floor drain and dampened the stool standing beneath the shower head.  Soap bubbles lingered on the shower knob from Sanji’s body scrubbing before he’d entered the bath. 

Zoro held up the bucket of cleaning supplies.  “My turn to clean the bathroom.”

Sanji was aware of how very naked he was in the bath.  His skin pinked from the heat.  “You could wait until I’m done.”

“You take too long.  You’re like a fucking girl.”

“I am not a girl!”  Sanji’s vehement shout bounced around the bathroom with embarrassing shrillness.

Zoro snorted, setting the bucket down on a stool.  “Could’ve fooled me.”

Sanji shot to his feet, water cascading down his body and splashing over the rim of the tub.  “Do I look like a girl to you?!”

Sanji regretted his irate actions the moment Zoro turned his head in Sanji’s direction.  Sanji was naked in front of the guy who’d molested him twice.  He may as well have tattooed “Take me, I’m yours” across his forehead.  But his masculine pride was at stake and he clenched his fists to keep from covering his crotch.  He did not look like a girl!

Zoro cast a disparaging glance over Sanji from head to knee and responded bluntly, “Yes, you do.”

Sanji’s jaw fell in shock from Zoro’s answer.  Then, he saw red.  “I DO NOT!” he exploded, launching from the tub into a handspring and slamming his heel down on top of Zoro’s head.  He landed upright on his feet, bare toes digging into the tiled floor.

Zoro shook his head hard and smiled maliciously at Sanji.  “You’re more of a girl than Robin and Nami put together.”

“Don’t you talk about them like that.”  Sanji pivoted on the ball of his foot, lashing out in a side kick.  Zoro blocked with a forearm and ducked the follow up round kick to the head.

“Afraid of your competition in the girly department?”

Sanji dropped to a crouch and swept his leg towards Zoro’s ankles.  Zoro jumped and the air was cut where his feet had been.  Hands on the floor, Sanji twisted his body, bringing his other leg off the ground in a raised scissor kick that connected with Zoro’s stomach before he landed.  Zoro flew backwards at the impact and slammed into the wall separating the bathroom from the head.

Zoro gasped for breath and dropped to one knee.  His arms shot up and crossed in a block as Sanji went in for a straight shot to the face.  Zoro peered around his wrists.  “Beating me up won’t change the fact that you have a chick’s legs, miniscule waist, and a pert little ass.”

MY ASS IS NOT PERT!!!

Sanji spun into a back kick, followed with a round kick, snap kick, side kick, round kick, and another spinning back kick.  Zoro kept his head ducked behind his crossed arms, his knee and toe of his boot squealing against the tile as he was pushed backwards.  “Your dick is so tiny, you may as well not even have one,” he jeered as he was pummeled.

“Fuck you!”  Sanji flipped and cracked his heel on the cross block of Zoro’s wrists.  “I have a huge—”, he pivoted into another side kick, “—damned—”, round kick, “—fucking—”, snap kick, “—manly—”, drop kick, “—dick!”  With a leap and a turn, Sanji planned to kick Zoro right through the wall.

Zoro moved with Sanji’s jump, darting forward and under Sanji’s body.  He shot upright, nabbed Sanji around the waist, and sent them both tumbling into the bath.  Water plumed and overflowed from the tub.  Sanji inhaled water up his nose and choked.  He struggled against Zoro, the backs of his calves smacking against the edge of the tub, his feet in the air. 

Zoro gurgled and held on, not seeming to care that they were drowning.  Sanji writhed, trying to get free.  Zoro’s shirt and haramaki dragged wetly against Sanji’s bare skin.  One solid thigh dug into Sanji’s crotch.  Sanji bucked against Zoro and realized, with horror, that his not-small-cock was getting hard.

Sanji’s fighting intensified.  He twisted, jerked, and shoved in a panicked frenzy to get away.  He only succeeded in making himself harder, frissions of pleasure jolting along his nerves everywhere he rubbed against Zoro.  Soon, Zoro was going to notice and Sanji would be humiliated and Zoro would never let him live it down. 

Or maybe Zoro would wrap his hand around Sanji’s cock and jerk him off again.

Sanji’s body tightened, his blood raced hotly through his veins.  Fuck, he wanted that.  He wanted Zoro’s big, solid fingers gripping his cock, jacking him with short, rough strokes that almost hurt.  He wanted another bad kiss, to feel Zoro’s lips pressed against his own, using their mouths for something other than fighting.  He could show Zoro what a good kiss was supposed to be like, hold that ugly face between his hands and plunder Zoro’s mouth until he whimpered breathlessly.  Kind of like how Sanji sounded now.

Zoro released him suddenly, but shoved Sanji underwater with a hand to the chest as he pushed himself out of the tub.  Sanji flailed and sputtered when he finally came up for air.  The bathwater churned around him, clamped knees poking above the surface.  He pushed his wet hair out of his face and glared at Zoro.

Zoro was across the bathroom, back to Sanji, wet clothes plastered to his body.  Water sluiced from the sheaths strapped to his side.  “Fucking target-brow.  You made me get my katanas wet,” he growled, snagging a towel from the rack before storming stiffly out of the bathroom.  The door slammed shut behind him.

“Oh, yeah?!  Well…” Sanji trailed off feebly, his cheeks feeling like they were on fire.  What was he going to say?  You made me horny.’  “Fucking marimo.”

Sanji sat in the bathtub, knees drawn to his chest, until his erection went away.


Sanji wanted to have sex with Zoro.  Denying it was only making him want it more the longer it went on.  Zoro would take off his shirt on deck, Sanji would get hard.  Zoro would bend over to pick up his weights; Sanji had to run to the head to take care of his erection.  When Zoro started a fight with him on the deck in front of everyone, Sanji nearly came in his pants.  Zoro invaded Sanji’s fantasies when he masturbated and kicked the girls out of his dreams.  He was always at the forefront in Sanji’s thoughts, tempting him to cross the line.

Sanji finally decided to give in, but he also decided that he’d have to get Zoro drunk first.  There was no way he was letting the bastard remember them having sex.  Sanji might have to be drunk, too, after learning what he needed to know about male pirates fucking from a cabin boy in port.

“It only hurts the first few times, after that you get used to it,” the fair teen had told him.  “Just keep your bum greased and you’ll be fine.  I use cooking lard.  Keeps you slick all day and usually I can do four or five in a row before it dries up.”

The conversation had traumatized Sanji so badly he didn’t use cooking lard to make meals for a week. 

The conversation hadn’t reduced Sanji’s longing to have sex with Zoro, though.  He knew Zoro enjoyed sex in the ass, since he’d volunteered to let Sanji do him in Wellington .  And it wasn’t as if Sanji wouldn’t be the one doing the fucking, anyway.  With that in mind, and Sanji’s cock begging for some action, Sanji finally gave into his desire and set a plan in motion to get laid.

The bottles clinked against each other as Sanji shifted the brown bag in his arms to grasp the door handle.  Quiet waves lapped against the Sunny’s hull in Confor harbor.  Twilight colored the sky.  Confor City rose from a hilltop surrounded by forest, with wide roads leading to and from the portcullis gates.  Zoro had pulled first watch, and Luffy and the others had vanished into town the moment they’d docked.  Sanji had spent most of the day restocking the supplies, and then he’d taken a quick bath and changed before returning to town to make a purchase of his own. 

Sanji took a deep drag from his cigarette and stared at the wood door in front of him.  If he’d timed it right – and he had, since he was watching from the harbor – Chopper would be up in the crow’s nest and Zoro would be in the men’s cabin gathering what little money he had to head into town.  All Sanji had to do next was convince Zoro to drink with him without it being blatantly obvious that Sanji had an ulterior motive.

Here goes nothing.  Tapping the toe of his shoe on the deck, Sanji exhaled a smoky breath and opened the door.

Zoro’s ass was in the air, his head in the locker as he searched through the cluttered bottom.  Arousal surged at the sight of the taut stretch of Zoro’s pants.  Sanji heeled the door shut behind him and twisted the lock. 

Zoro poked his head out of the locker, saw it was Sanji, and sneered, “Oh, it’s you.”

“Feeling’s mutual.”  Feigning nonchalance, Sanji carried the bag over to the low table and set it down amidst the mess strewn across the surface.  Turning his back to Zoro, he swept the dirty clothes off the couch, removed the small jar he’d filled with cooking lard from his inner coat pocket, and shoved it deep between the couch cushions.

“Oi, marimo,” he said, taking off his coat and draping it over the back of the couch.  He sat over where he’d stuffed the jar, removed a dark green glass bottle from the bag, and leaned back casually.  “It’s your lucky night.”

Zoro shot Sanji a dark look as he slammed his locker door shut.  “What are you talking about?”

Sanji held up the bottle.  “Look what I won.”

“Yeah – And?”

“There’s ten of them,” Sanji said, baiting the hook, “and I’m in the mood to share.”

“With me,” Zoro said flatly, arms crossing.

Sanji shrugged.  “You’re the only one here.  But if you’re not interested in free booze…”

A pencil cracked under Zoro’s boot as he stalked over to the couch and snagged the bottle from Sanji.  He looked at the bottle suspiciously, unplugged the cork, and took a long guzzle.  Wiping the mouth with the back of his hand, he studied the label again.  “Where’d you get this?”

“I told you, I won it.  Clean out your ears, dumbshit.”  Sanji crowed inwardly when Zoro took another drink.  It looked like his plan was working.  Sanji pulled another bottle from the bag and pried off the cork.  The clear alcohol was a fairly expensive brand that reportedly had the kick of a Zeff in a bad mood.  One bottle of it supposedly knocked a normal man into his cups. 

Zoro wasn’t a normal man.  Neither was Sanji.  That’s why he’d bought ten.

After leaning his katanas against the side of the couch, Zoro plopped down onto the far end of it, leaving a large gap between himself and Sanji.  His boots thunked on the table and sprinkled dirt on the papers caught beneath them.  “What’d you do?  Was it a contest for the best dressed pussy in town?”

Sanji bristled.  “It was a cooking contest, asshole.”  He stuck with the lie he’d created and was ready to elaborate right down to the type of knives he’d used to prepare the fake meal, if Zoro asked.

But Zoro merely indicated that he’d been listening.  “Ah,” he said, and took another drink.

Sanji tilted the bottle in his hand to his lips and the sharp, bitter alcohol burned down his throat.  He failed to completely suppress the reflexive cough and thumped his fist against his chest.  That was some damned strong stuff.

Zoro sniggered.  “Too strong for you, wimp?”

“No,” Sanji sneered and took another swig.  He expected the taste this time and had no problems drinking it.  He brushed the dampness from his lips with his fingers.  “Bet I could drink twice as much as you.”

Zoro’s eyes narrowed.  “Bet you pass out before you finish that bottle.”

Challenge crackled in the air.  They held each other’s measuring gazes for a long, silent moment, and then simultaneously tilted the bottle in their hands to their lips and began drinking.

In the back of his mind, Sanji reveled in anticipation of what was to come.  Zoro had taken the bait, hook, line, and sinker, and all Sanji had to do was reel him in one bottle at a time.  Victory – and sex – was so close he could taste it.

Too bad he’d forgotten to factor his competitive spirit into his cunning plan.


Sanji didn’t remember the men’s cabin being pink.  The girls must’ve painted when he wasn’t looking.  Sneaky girls.  He’d bet they’d let the faeries inside, too. 

Sanji blinked slowly and the beams crossing the deck head began wiggling like snakes.  Wow, he was drunk.  “I’m drunk.”  Rolling his head on his shoulder, he looked across the couch at Zoro.  Zoro was pink, too.  Sneaky girls.  “You drunk?”

“Nope.”  Zoro popped his “p” while staring into the neck of the bottle in his hand.  He tilted the bottle up, along with his head, and a few drops sprinkled onto his cheek.  His lower lip slid out and he dropped the bottle over his head, off the couch.  It landed with a whumph.  Maybe on some clothes.  Or papers.  Or a body.

“Did we kill someone?” Sanji asked.

Zoro’s brow furrowed and he scratched his chin.  His fingernails left glittering gold tracks.  “Not that I remember.”  He eyed the bottle dangling from Sanji’s hand.  “Are you gonna finish that?”

Sanji raised the bottle and stared at it.  Liquid sloshed inside, three quarters full.  He wondered if it were pink like everything else.

Zoro scooted closer to Sanji, stopped abruptly, and grabbed the back of the couch.  His upper body swayed.  “Huh.  Guess I am a little drunk.”

Sanji snickered.  “Wimp.”

“Tch.”  Zoro took the bottle easily from Sanji’s hand and brought it to his lips.  His Adam’s apple bobbed as he drank steadily.  The alcohol droplet on his cheek curved downward, over his jaw, and slid slowly down his neck.

The cabin was really hot.  Sanji pulled his dress shirt tails from his trousers and yanked it over his head.  He gagged as his tie choked him. 

Cursing soundly, Sanji struggled until his head popped free.  The couch spun, or maybe it was him spinning?  It was making him dizzy.  “Ugh.”

He held on to his knees until things slowed down and blew at the hair tickling his nose.  Through the blonde fringe he watched Zoro bang on the bottom of the bottle, his mouth open beneath the rim.  Zoro was no longer pink.  He’d taken on a greenish tint that suited him much better.  Marimo colored.  “Marimo,” Sanji said, and laughed.

Zoro leaned over to set the empty bottle on the table and fell off the couch.  The bottle went rolling.  Sanji laughed harder.

Pushing up onto his hands and knees, Zoro belched loudly.  Then he laughed, too.  “This stuff is great.”

Sanji crawled forward and sprawled on his bare stomach across the length of the couch.  His inside-out shirt and tie landed negligently on Zoro’s head.  He toed off his shoes and listened as they clunked when they hit the floor.  He nuzzled into the cushion beneath his cheek.  Soft.  He could sleep right here.

“Hey, stop taking up the entire couch,” Zoro said, shoving Sanji in the side.


Sanji dug his fingers and toes beneath the cushions and hunkered down.  “‘S’mine.”

“Oh, yeah?”  A hot, heavy weight settled on Sanji and a moist mouth brushed against his ear.  “Now, it’s mine.”

Sanji’s stomach quivered.  He couldn’t breathe.  He wiggled beneath Zoro, trying to escape.


”Fuck,” Zoro cursed and ground his hips against Sanji’s ass.  Sanji could feel something rigid dig into him through his trousers.  His brain tripped.  It was suddenly sweltering in the cabin.

Zoro’s lips skimmed the column of Sanji’s neck and a shiver ran through Sanji.  Zoro moaned softly and rolled his hips.  “Nnnmm, Sanji.”

“Hnnn.”  Sanji’s mouth dried and he had trouble swallowing.  The air seemed to be made of molasses.  His circled his pelvis slowly, rubbing his hardening cock against the couch cushion.  The golden hairs on his forearms waved like fine, soft coral beneath the sea. 


Zoro dropped molten kisses along the length of Sanji’s bare shoulder and whispered, “I can see them,” with wonder-filled delight.  His tongue lathed the ball of Sanji’s shoulder.  Sanji’s eyelids fluttered shut.

Zoro’s weight depressed the couch on either side of Sanji as he pushed back on his arms.  Sanji arched into the trail of wet, lingering kisses down the pearls of his spine.  The lub-dub of his heart grew louder in his ears, blocking out the harsh sounds of Zoro’s rapid breathing.  Arousal spread through his body like warm honey.

Calloused fingertips skimmed along the waistband of Sanji’s trousers, the rough whorls catching lightly on his skin.  He inhaled sharply at the slight tickle when the touch reached his sides.  He lifted his hips with gentle prompting.  The faeries tinkled in soft laughter.

The cushion was prickly against his bared cock and upper thighs.  Heaviness weighted his limbs as he moved his arm, desiring a different touch.  He slid his hand beneath him and cupped his erection.  Its pulsing, sticky heat burned his palm. 

Zoro’s mouth continued its languid journey downward and Sanji’s hand convulsed around his length.  A low moan rose from his throat from the pleasure.  His feet pushed against the arm of the couch.  Zoro’s hot breath seared his skin, made him tighten, made him itch.  He pressed into his hand and then back into the hands spreading him open.

Bright sparks shot through him with the laving of Zoro’s tongue.  The rumble of Zoro’s satisfaction made him cry out.  He pressed his face against the cushion, body shaking, the world spinning out of control.  He was grounded by a single, dirty kiss that branded him a possession and tore apart his soul.

Everything narrowed to a pinpoint of sensation until he exploded with the force of his climax.  Colors rushed past his tightly closed eyes with the sound of thundering hooves.  Shudders wracked through him and stole his breath until he was nothing more than a quivering mess of bones on the couch.

Zoro shifted behind him.  “What the— oh.  Oh fuck.” 

The strangled curse drew Sanji’s attention, but the feel of a finger rubbing where Zoro’s mouth had been broke him into pieces.  He cried out wordlessly, lifting his hips, pushing back.  Zoro made another strangled sound, and then he was over Sanji, pushing him into the cushions, nudging something blunt and hard against his hole.

Sanji’s body gave, and his mind stuttered with the holy wow weird.  His entire being focused on his ass.  There was a slight burn, like he got with a good stretching exercise, that faded as he adjusted to Zoro’s cock.  Sanji trembled.  Fuck, god.  Zoro’s cock was inside him.

Zoro’s broad hand clamped on Sanji’s hip, his knees depressing the cushions beside Sanji’s thighs.  The faeries giggled as Zoro pressed his sweaty forehead between Sanji’s shoulder blades and he rocked minutely, sucking in staggered breaths that were turning Sanji on.  Sanji lifted his ass into the next tiny thrust, a hunger building swiftly for something more. 

Sanji,” Zoro growled his name low and deep, drew further back, and thrust in hard.

Sanji gasped and braced his hands and feet against the arms of the couch.  He could feel every inch of Zoro inside of him, filling him, stretching him.  It felt strange and full and good.  Not even the shadows watching them with sharp smiles could distract him from the odd pleasure rolling through him.

Zoro made small, uncontrolled sounds, his mouth moving wetly over Sanji’s nape.  His hips snapped against Sanji’s ass, the slap of flesh ringing in Sanji’s ears.  Sanji moaned and rubbed his cheek against the cushion, burying his nose in the curve of his bicep.  His trousers were bunched under his knees, trapping his legs, stopping him from spreading them like he wanted.  Desire coiled deep in his gut, but his cock remained soft, spent, so he just laid there and let Zoro fuck him.

Sanji felt it from the inside when Zoro finally came; long pulses of release.  He was oddly satisfied by it.  Zoro collapsed with a grunt onto Sanji’s back, his shirt and haramaki scratching Sanji’s sweaty skin.  The couch spun lazily.  Zoro snuffled against his shoulder.

Sanji’s bladder seized the post-coital moment to complain loudly and Sanji groaned unhappily.  “Move.  I have to piss.”

Zoro moved.  Sanji was startled by the sudden emptiness and the sloppy sound.  He watched Zoro stagger in the direction of his bunk, the sheets beckoning like a helpful ghost.  Unable to wait any longer, Sanji got up, fixed his trousers, and wandered off to find the head. 

As he left the men’s cabin, he decided he liked the blue color best of all.


Sanji awoke with his face mashed into a corner, his ass in the air, and the worst headache of his life.  It felt like Usopp was drilling holes into his head and dropping exploding fire stars inside his skull.  He sat up slowly, whimpering with the movement.  Nausea churned in his stomach.  Sitting on his heels, he wiped the drool from his chin, wondering how he’d fallen asleep on the floor in the head, shirtless, his trousers undone but nothing hanging out, thankfully, and barefoot.

Sunlight streamed in through the window.  Sanji dragged himself to his feet and peered squint-eyed into the hanging mirror over the sink.  His head pounded, his body ached, and he had a slightly green-tinted pallor.  Hangover.  Ugh.  How much had he drunk last night?

More importantly, had he gotten laid?

Sanji groaned and bowed his head.  He remembered convincing Zoro to drink with him, but after that, nothing.  His memory was a blank.

“This sucks,” he muttered, walking carefully through the connecting door into the bathroom.  He went directly to the showerhead and turned it on.  He squawked at the burst of cold water to the face and for a brief, blessed second, his headache went away.  It returned with a vengeance, but Sanji didn’t leave the shower.  He braced his hands on the wall and let the cold water rain on the back of his neck.

It was completely unfair, Sanji decided, watching the water swirl down the drain in the floor.  He had a plan – an idiot-proof plan designed for idiot-snaring – and he had no idea if it had worked or not.  And even if it had, he didn’t remember if the sex was any good or totally overrated.  Or if Zoro’s kissing had gotten any better.

An alarm bell rang in Sanji’s head, worsening his headache as he tensed all over.  He didn’t know if Zoro had gotten drunk.  Zoro could have a perfect memory of what had occurred between them.  Fuck.

Sanji turned his face upwards and tried to drown himself in the shower.  Failing that, he struggled out of his sopping trousers and boxers and tried not to puke while he washed up.  The soap felt like a stone against his over-sensitive skin.  Every part of his body hurt, even his elbows, his kneecaps, and his ass.  He hated hangovers.

The corridors of the Sunny were thankfully empty, allowing Sanji to reach the men’s cabin without having to put on an unaffected front.  He’d left his wet clothes hanging from a peg in the bathroom.  The towel around his waist preserved his modesty, though that bit of cloth felt constricting in his state.  His hand went to the knot holding the towel tied the moment he stepped into the men’s cabin.

Zoro’s presence made Sanji grasp the edges of the towel before it fell to the floor.  His heart scrambled into his throat.  Shit.  He wasn’t ready to face Zoro yet.

Zoro sat on his bunk with his elbows on his knees and his head propped up by his hands.  He stopped rubbing circles over his temples when he noticed Sanji and straightened his posture.  He smirked at Sanji.  “You look hung over.”

“Fuck off,” Sanji said, aiming for his locker.  He needed to get dressed.  He felt too naked, in more ways than one.

Zoro chuckled.  “Told you you couldn’t hold your booze.”

Sanji froze, his hand hovering above a hanger.  His horrified expression stared back at him in the mirror on the inside of his locker door.  “You remember?”

“Er...,” Zoro’s cheeks flushed pink, visible in the reflection, and he looked down at the floor, “…not really.  But it’s obvious that I won.”

Sanji released the breath he’d been holding with relief.  Zoro didn’t remember.  Thank fuck.  He drew out a shirt.  “How is it obvious, dumbass?  I’m the one with the hangover, which means that I drank more than you.”

“Che.  It just means I can hold my drink bet—” Zoro cut off abruptly, clamped both hands over his mouth, and turned the same color green as his hair.  He leapt to his feet and bolted for the door.

Sanji watched him leave, highly amused at Zoro’s expense, and leaned his forehead against the cool metal of the locker.  He’d dodged a sword strike with Zoro’s memories being as blank as Sanji’s.  Too bad it meant Sanji was back at square one.  He still wanted to have sex with Zoro; he just had to come up with another way to get it.


Between the Marines, the hostile natives, and the priceless golden pygmy statue that Nami insisted they find on Urubura Island , Sanji didn’t have time to think of another plan that would get him into Zoro’s pants.  The small jar of cooking lard remained untouched, buried in the bottom of his locker.  Then, they landed on an island populated solely by Amazonian women and Sanji didn’t care anymore.

“Another grape, Sanji-kun?” Sultriana asked, touching the plump purple fruit to her plump pink lips in a tantalizing kiss.  She leaned closer to Sanji, the bounty of her breasts overflowing from the tight brown leather vest she wore.

“If it is delivered to my mouth by your delicate hands,” Sanji replied, tilting his chin to accept the fruit.  The grape’s sweet flavor exploded on his tongue when he bit down.

Sunlight slipped between the bamboo rods tied by woven green vines and bathed the room in pale golden light.  Sanji laid spread on a nest of furs spread over the floor, his hands secured above him by a thin leather cord tethered to a hook.  Sultriana and Allurona knelt on either side of him, dressed in supple leather vests and short skirts that exposed the long length of their legs and their honey-colored skin.

“More nectar, Sanji-kun?” Allurona inquired.  The dip of her navel was exposed as she poured thick amber liquid from a pitcher into a wooden cup.

“My thirst would be quenched by drinking from the wellspring of your lips, Allurona-san,” Sanji said.  The giggles elicited by his words tickled his ears.

Allurona lifted his head and pressed the wooden cup against his lower lip.  Sanji drank the strong ambrosia that tasted like apricot.  He floated in a haze of arousal, the world around him blurred at the edges.  He’d lost track of the number of times the blood was cleaned from beneath his nose by the tender ministrations of the women. 

Sanji’s yellow shirt was unbuttoned, his tie loose around his neck. Sultriana’s fingertips brushed over his bare chest and continued lower to dance over his erection trapped beneath his trousers.  Sanji moaned quietly.  He’d been teased nonstop since he’d followed them back to their village.  His balls were drawn up tight and ached horribly.  His boxers clung to the damp tip of his rigid cock.

“Please, my darling Sultriana-san.”  Sanji spread his heavy legs further.  “Your touch is a balm to my fevered skin.”

“Sweet Sanji-kun,” Sultriana cooed and cupped him intimately. “You must save yourself for the gathering.”

Sanji’s eyes rolled beneath his closed eyelids at the feel of her palm pressing against his crotch.  If she rubbed just a little…

Sultriana took her hand away and Sanji whimpered.  “Here, drink more,” she said.

Sanji gulped the offered ambrosia to cool his heated body.  It brought little relief.  He was afraid he’d go mad if he didn’t find release soon.  He could hardly think through the need clouding his mind.

“It won’t be much longer,” Allurona promised, rubbing circles along the inside of his thigh.  “Once the sun crests, you will be presented to the village and bring us much wealth.”

Desire pulsed through Sanji, making him tremble.  Steam rose once again from beneath his loose collar.  He would be in the presence of an entire village of women as voluptuous and beautiful as Sultriana and Allurona.  And if Sultriana and Allurona’s actions were any indication, he might be touched by each and every one of the women.

Allurona stemmed his nosebleed while Sultriana ran her fingers through Sanji’s sweat-dampened hair.  Sanji weakened beneath her gentle touch and the room spun slowly.  He licked his dry lips, which tasted like copper.

“Another drink?” Allurona asked, and ambrosia flowed thickly down Sanji’s throat and spread through his limbs.  His balls throbbed painfully.

Sultriana traced a grape around his lips.  “Have another grape.”

“Since you have offered,” Sanji said, parting his lips.  A scream rang clearly outside and, startled, Sanji coughed as he choked on the grape that had been shoved into his mouth.  Allurona and Sultriana darted to the door, hands on their knife hilts.  The door burst open, sending them flying backwards. 

Sanji blinked at the shadowy figure hulking in the doorway.  His cock twitched.  “Is it time for the gathering, finally?”

“What the hell are you doing, aho-cook?”  Zoro’s voice melded with his blurry body as he entered the room.  He smacked Allurona on the head as she charged him and she collapsed at his feet.

Anger heated Sanji’s face.  “What am I doing?  What are you doing?”

“Rescuing your ass,” Zoro said and deflected the knife that had been thrown at him.  He shot Sultriana a glare and stalked towards her.  She aimed a low tackle at his knees.  He stepped deftly aside and cuffed her hard as she flew past.  She landed in an unmoving heap near the door.

“Stop hurting them!” Sanji struggled against his bonds and the ground tilted sharply beneath him.  He closed his eyes tightly as everything whirled.  “Ugh.”

“You are such an idiot.”  The cord tying Sanji’s hands was cut and Sanji was yanked to his feet by the front of his gaping shirt.  “Come on.  Let’s get out of here.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”  Sanji’s knees wobbled and he went down hard the moment Zoro released him.  His laughter seemed to echo in his head, which was floating away like a balloon.  “See?”

A rough hand grabbed his chin and his head jerked upwards.  He blinked Zoro into focus.  Zoro’s frown creased the bridge of his nose.  “Fuck.  You’ve been drugged like the others.”

“I have not.”  Sanji knocked Zoro’s hand away and began crawling towards Allurona.  Her skirt had ridden up, exposing the tempting curve of her ass.  Not that he would ever do anything untoward.  He would fix her skirt like a gentleman.  She probably needed her panties fixed, too…

Zoro grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and yanked him to his feet.  “Stupid perverted eyebrow, always thinking with your damned dick.”

Sanji kicked in Zoro’s direction, missing widely.  The action caused Sanji’s boxers to chafe against his erection and he hissed, hunched over, and grabbed his crotch.  His cock throbbed.  His vision swirled. 

“We’re leaving.”  Zoro shoved him forward, prompting him to walk.  But Sanji’s legs went rubbery and he dropped to his knees with a grunt.  How did Luffy manage it?

Zoro heaved a disgusted sigh and Sanji found himself being thrown over a brawny shoulder.  His breath whooshed out of him and his brain spun like a top.  He shut his eyes and grasped the back of Zoro’s haramaki.  “Let me go,” he wheezed.

“Forget it.  Those crazy bitches won’t be out long.”  Zoro began running, his hold tight around the back of Sanji’s knees.  Sanji gurgled as his cock rubbed against Zoro’s pectoral.  Lightning bolts of need licked the base of his spine.  He twisted Zoro’s haramaki between his hands.  He was so horny, he hurt.

“Put me down.”  Sanji’s voice quavered with desperation.  “Put me down.  Put me down!”

Zoro stopped and Sanji was suddenly on his feet.  “Don’t you puke on me.”

“Not going to—nnhh.”  Sanji staggered backwards, bent double, hands pressed hard against his crotch.  Red and brown leaves crunched underfoot.  Sweat dripped from his forehead and itched on his upper lip.  His heart raced, slamming against his chest. 

“Oi, what’s wrong with you?”

Sanji bumped into a tree and he used it to brace himself as he unbuckled his belt with shaking hands.  His breath came in short, sharp pants between his parched lips.  The ground kept swimming in and out of focus.  Branches rustled overhead with the loud chittering of an animal.

“Hey, target-brow—” Zoro stepped closer and his broad hand clasped Sanji’s arm.  The touch went straight to Sanji’s cock and he whined in pain.  He fumbled with the button and zipper on his trousers, but couldn’t get his fingers to work properly.  Eyelids squeezing shut, he hunched further, curling over his aching erection.

“Zoro,” Sanji whimpered, digging the heel of his palm into his groin.  He couldn’t stand it any longer.  He threw himself at Zoro suddenly, mashing their mouths together.  The kiss was terrible.  It didn’t stop Sanji from wanting more.  “Zoro, I need— I need—”

“Shit.”  Zoro pushed Sanji until his back hit the tree.  He searched Sanji’s face briefly, squeezed Sanji’s arm, and dropped to his knees.  Sanji’s hands were gripping at the ache between his legs. Zoro clasped Sanji’s wrists and tugged them out of the way.  Sanji whined again at the lack of pressure where he needed it most.  “It’s okay,” Zoro calmed him, working the fastenings of Sanji’s trousers.  “I’ve got you.”

“Aghn.”  The sudden release of Sanji’s cock from his clothing made his eyes cross.  His fingernails dug into the trunk of the tree propping him up.  His cock was flushed dark with blood, the cockhead a deep plum color.  It reminded Sanji of the grapes he’d eaten and he half-laughed, half-moaned.

Zoro’s fingers wrapped around the base of Sanji’s cock and Sanji choked on a gasp.  He stared wide-eyed at Zoro, the rest of their surroundings blurring around them.  Glancing up at Sanji, Zoro’s lips quirked on one side.  “Dumbass love-cook,” he said, then leaned forward and closed his lips around Sanji’s cock.

Sanji’s head slammed against the tree trunk and the world burst into blinding stars.  The hot, wet slide of Zoro’s mouth around Sanji’s cock ripped the orgasm from him instantly.  He grabbed Zoro’s head, bucked his hips and came violently, spilling with body-jerking shudders down Zoro’s throat.  A loud buzzing filled his ears.  The hand on his hip squeezed gently. 

Sanji took it as permission to pass out.


Sanji woke in a dark cabin to the sounds of grunting and a hand against flesh from the next bunk over.  A headache chipped at his temples and he had the sour taste of apricots in his mouth.  He also had to piss badly.  Ignoring Luffy, like they all politely ignored each other when the need to jack off hit, Sanji left his bunk and walked over the clothing strewn about to the door.

An autumn breeze buffeted his face as he slipped out of the men’s cabin.  Overhead, stars sparkled in the dark, moonless sky.  Waves lapped at the Sunny’s hull.  Confusion furrowed Sanji’s brow.  Why was it dark?  When did Sunny leave port?  What happened to all the gorgeous women?

Sanji hit the head and straightened the crooked buttons on his shirt under his loose tie.  His reflection in the mirror was pale, but he didn’t see any visible cuts or bruises.  He didn’t feel like he’d been in a fight. 

Sanji’s bare feet made little noise as he padded from the head to the galley.  The grass tickled the soles of his feet.  He lit a cigarette as he climbed the steps beside the tree.

Lantern light spilled from the portholes and through the open outer doorway of the galley.  Books piled precariously on the table beside the den den mushi and were spread open on the couch.  Zoro’s swords sat on the island counter along with discarded polishing supplies.  Nami, Robin, Franky, Zoro, and Chopper sat around the dining table.  Plates of food were in front of each of them.  A quick eye told Sanji the plates held leftovers from yesterday.  Guilt and shame swept over him for failing to prepare a proper meal. 

“Sanji, you’re up!”  Chopper climbed off his chair and toddled over to Sanji.  “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” Sanji waved him away and swept into the kitchen area, grabbing his apron.  “I’m sorry you had to raid the refrigerator.  I’ll whip something fresh up momentarily.”

“Sanji-san, you need not go through the trouble—,” Robin began, but Sanji cut her off. 

“It’s my job,” Sanji said, shoulders bunching with self-recrimination.  His headache worsened.  “My apologies for… whatever caused me to fail at doing it.”

“You don’t remember?” Nami said.  Zoro paused mid-forkful, glanced sideways at Sanji, and then continued shoveling food into his mouth.

“But I shall never forget again, Nami-san!”

Chopper had climbed onto the bar stool in front of the island counter and was looking him over with a discerning doctor’s eye.  “You guys were drugged,” he said.

Sanji paused in washing his hands.  “Drugged?”  It would explain why he couldn’t remember anything.

“It seems that the shortage of men on the island hampers their ability to produce children,” Nami explained with a disgusted curl of her lip. 

Sanji felt his face redden at what Nami was implying.  “I see.”

Franky decided her explanation wasn’t enough.  “Those Amazons spike the drinks, climb on board, and then try and kill you afterwards.”  He grinned lecherously and let his sunglasses drop down over his nose.  “But what a way to go.”

“You’re lucky you didn’t get hurt,” Nami disapproved sharply.

Franky thumped his fist against his chest.  The sound of metal against metal rang clearly.  “No luck needed.”

“Usopp got hurt,” Chopper said, casting a worried eye towards the infirmary.  “I didn’t know noses could bleed that much.”

“He will be fine, Chopper-san,” Robin said with a kind smile.  “We found both him and Luffy before anything untoward could be done.”

“Sucks for them,” Franky laughed and slapped Zoro heartily on the back.  “Right, man?”


“Whatever.”

Sanji rolled his cigarette to the other side of his mouth and puffed with embarrassment as he rinsed soap from his hands.  He wasn’t dead, but how far had he gotten with the women?  And how had he gotten back to the ship?

“Don’t worry, perverted cook.”  Zoro’s low voice at his shoulder caught him unawares.  Sanji hadn’t known that he’d left the table.  He cut Zoro a sharp, disgruntled glance.

Zoro slid his dishes into the sink beneath Sanji’s hands and smirked.  “I saved you before they took your virginity.”

“I am not—!”  Sanji bit off his exclamation and felt another wave of heat redden his cheeks.  Chopper, Nami, Robin, and Franky were all looking quizzically at him.  Sanji settled for side-kicking Zoro in the shin.


Zoro chuckled, unaffected, grabbed his belongings, and left the galley to go on watch.


Sanji’s arms strained as he lifted another crate and carried it across the storeroom.  Mid-morning light filtered through the porthole on the outer door.  Warmth filled the pantry from his activity.  Barrels, crates, boxes, and bags of stores packed the pantry from a recent visit to a port.  Blue shirtsleeves rolled, Sanji shifted items around, dissatisfied with the way he’d arranged the items when they’d been brought on board.

The Sunny rolled underfoot as Sanji transferred another heavy crate.  His cigarette smoldered in the ashtray balanced on stacked bags of rice.  He heard someone clattering around in the galley through the open pantry door.  A glance on his way back to the crates showed Zoro standing by the sink, gulping down a glass of water.  “Don’t mess up my galley,” he called, wrapping his arms around the next crate.  He grunted quietly as he lifted it.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Zoro replied, “but now I might.”

Sanji’s back strained as he stretched to place the crate on the new stack.  Once he balanced it on the edge, he drew his leg up behind him, arched over his head, and gave the crate a tap with the sole of his shoe.  The crate slid into place with the scrape of wood against wood.

“It freaks me out that you can bend like that.”  Zoro leaned against the doorjamb, arms folded casually, with a quarter-filled glass of water grasped in one hand.  “It’s like you have no bones.”

Sanji took a drag off his cigarette, returned the butt to the ashtray, and walked over to the last crate.  “‘S’why I can kick your ass,” he said, exhaling smoke with his words.

“Heh.  In your dreams.”

“Stop standing there like a post and help me move this.”  Sanji dragged the final crate away from the wall and propped it on the tip of his shoe.  He’d normally have to do a rising handstand with the crate balanced on his feet to reach the top of the pile, but with Zoro around, he could just have the brute shove it up there.

Zoro finished off his water, set the glass beside the ashtray, and picked up the crate.  “Up there?” he asked with a gesture of his chin.

“Yeah.”  Sanji watched as Zoro easily hefted the crate and pushed it onto the stack.  “Wait, you moron.  The label’s not facing outward.”

“You didn’t tell me it had to go a certain way,” Zoro said.

“Any idiot should know that.”  Sanji stretched on his toes, peering between the crates and the wall, trying to see if the label was on the inner side.  It hadn’t been on the outer two.  “You’ll have to turn it.”

Sanji ducked fast as Zoro reached over Sanji’s head from behind, pulled the crate out, and gave it a quick quarter-turn.  “Oi, you could’ve waited until I moved.”

“I could’ve,” Zoro agreed mockingly. “That how you want it?”

The label faced the correct direction.  Sanji fanned the open collar of his shirt.  “Yes, no thanks to—” He’d turned as he spoke and his words caught in his throat.  Zoro was right there.  The back of Sanji’s hand brushed the front of Zoro’s white shirt with each breath Zoro took.  He could see the individual flecks of black in Zoro’s eyes.

Sanji couldn’t look away.  He stood there, staring silently, as the air thickened around them.  The smirk on Zoro’s lips faded slowly and awareness came over his features.  Sanji’s palms began sweating and something hot coiled in his gut.  The pantry shrank.  The ship rolled beneath his feet.  Zoro’s earrings chimed softly as he leaned in.

Sanji blinked, his heart hitching at the touch of Zoro’s lips against his own.  Zoro’s features blurred slightly from the closeness.  Zoro stared back, mouth resting against Sanji’s in a single, simple kiss.

Sanji felt like he’d stepped off a cliff with no bottom in sight.

Zoro drew back.  Their parting lips made a quiet kissing sound.  He studied Sanji’s face, looking uneasy.  Pink tinged his cheeks and across the bridge of his nose.  Sanji realized Zoro was as nervous as him.  It relieved Sanji immensely and a grin twitched the corners of his lips.  Zoro saw it, and a brilliant smile spread slowly across his face, lighting up his eyes. 

Sanji’s chest tightened for no reason.  He wanted to call Zoro names all of a sudden, then kick him and run away.  But he didn’t do any of those things.  He stood there, heart thundering, as Zoro lifted his hands, cupped Sanji’s cheeks, and brought their mouths together again.

Desire unfurled in Sanji’s belly.  He felt Zoro’s kiss all the way to his toes, which curled in tips of his shoes.  His arms slid around Zoro’s waist without volition.  Each brush of Zoro’s lips and touch of his tongue drew Sanji deeper into a sea of yearning that stole the breath from his lungs.  The lazy exploration wound Sanji tighter and tighter until he thought he might tear apart.

To think he’d given up on Zoro.  Luffy’s vocal horniness since leaving the Amazonian island had put a damper on Sanji’s sex drive.  It had gotten so bad that, at the next port, Nami had given Franky extra beli and explicit instructions not to let Luffy leave the brothel until it was all out of his system.  Sanji hadn’t been able to come up with another way to get Zoro drunk, anyway, and he’d thought it’d be too much money and effort for sex that probably wouldn’t have been any good based on Zoro’s terrible kissing.

Boy, had he been wrong.

Arousal strummed through his limbs, making him weak.  He wanted Zoro— no needed Zoro like he’d never needed anything before, caused by Zoro’s kissing alone.  Zoro backed him a few steps until he hit the stacked crates, then pressed against him bodily.  Sanji could feel the ridges of muscle and the solid length of Zoro’s erection through the layers of their clothing.  He hooked a leg behind Zoro’s thigh, allowing Zoro to push closer, allowing him to feel what he was doing to Sanji. 

Zoro cursed against Sanji’s lips, and it was like a match was dropped in a powder keg.  Zoro’s restraint exploded with a hunger that seared Sanji’s bones.  The back of Sanji’s head knocked against the crate and his mouth was devoured in a spine shattering kiss. Thin, firm lips moved over Sanji’s with the sole purpose of stealing Sanji’s thoughts and scattering them into the wind.  Sanji had trouble keeping up; even the most aggressive women he’d known had never kissed like this – raw, powerful, unrelenting passion focused exclusively on Sanji’s lips.

Undaunted, he wrapped his hand behind Zoro’s neck and kissed back with every ounce of desire he possessed.  He pushed his tongue past Zoro’s lips, tasting, taunting.  He wanted to drive Zoro as wild as he was being driven.  Zoro’s feral rumble vibrated through Sanji.  His fingers sank into Sanji’s hair, holding him captive as they plundered each other’s mouths.

Heat rose between them.  Sanji wanted to touch Zoro, to feel Zoro’s hard body under him.  He sucked on Zoro’s lower lip and tugged at Zoro’s shirt.  Zoro pulled away for barely a moment, yanking his shirt and haramaki over his head.  The clothing landed on the floor by their feet and Zoro was on Sanji again, ravaging Sanji’s mouth with lips and teeth and tongue.  Sanji’s hands slid over the sweat-dampened skin of Zoro’s back, feeling the muscles shift.  He skimmed downwards, pushed beneath the waistband of Zoro’s trousers, and palmed Zoro’s ass.  It felt as taut as it had looked under the tight stretch of his pants.

Zoro moaned throatily, broke the kiss, and rested his damp forehead against Sanji’s brow.  His panting breaths mingled with Sanji’s, the tips of their noses touching.  “Fuck,” he said raggedly, rotating his hips, rubbing against Sanji.  His fingers convulsed in Sanji’s hair.

Sanji’s heart was pounding audibly.  He licked his swollen lips, chasing Zoro’s taste.  He couldn’t believe how good Zoro kissed when sober. 

Oh, shit. 

Sanji’s swallowed, suddenly very conscious of the fact that neither of them was drunk.  Every second would be etched into memory.  Nothing could be fobbed off as an alcohol-induced mistake.

Zoro’s eyelashes fluttered, a pink flush of arousal highlighting his cheeks.  The fingers of his free hand found the buttons on Sanji’s shirt and unfastened them one at a time.  With each button undone, Sanji’s apprehension ratcheted.

“Zoro,” Sanji’s guttural whisper was a demand and a plea tied in a single word.  To do what, Sanji didn’t know.

Zoro did, though, and with another curse he dove in for a kiss that scorched Sanji from the inside out.  Sanji’s head banged hard against the crate from the force.  Zoro yanked the tails of Sanji’s shirt from his trousers and popped the last button as he tore it off Sanji’s shoulders.  The shirt bunched at Sanji’s elbows, and Zoro broke the kiss to attack the bared skin.  Sanji’s hair caught on the wood grain of the crate as he arched his neck, moaning wantonly as Zoro’s sucking on the column of his throat went straight to his cock.

Who cared about who’d remember what?

Zoro backed off suddenly and Sanji opened his eyes, a protest on his lips.  Zoro’s looked wild and desperate, jerking his katanas free of the loop at his side.  The shiny tip of Zoro’s cock poked from the top of his pants, green curls spreading across his groin behind it.  Sanji’s cock surged and he ripped at his belt.  His shoes smacked against a barrel when he kicked them off.

Zoro was on Sanji again before he’d gotten his trousers undone.  They tumbled gracelessly onto the floor and Sanji’s trousers were taken care of swiftly.  Sanji cried out as Zoro descended upon his cock like a starving man.  Hooking a bare leg over Zoro’s shoulder, he thrust up into the hot cavern of Zoro’s mouth.  The shirt bunched behind Sanji’s back, trapping his bent arms.  He clenched and unclenched his fingers, nails digging into his palms, as his brain was sucked out of his cock.

Zoro slurped obscenely and groped Sanji’s balls.  Damp fingers traced lower.  Sanji choked on his breath as Zoro rubbed at his hole and then pushed inside.  The strange-feeling invasion turned into a demanding welcome when Zoro did something that ripped pleasure from him with another cry.  His thighs trembled, body strung like a wire.  Zoro’s blissful hum as he sucked and fucked Sanji with his fingers sent Sanji spiraling out of control.

Zoro stopped abruptly.  Sanji’s voice was reedy in protest.  “What?  No—”

“Wait—don’t—we need—I—” Zoro sounded as wrecked as Sanji felt, as he scrambled to his feet.  He ran out of the pantry and Sanji’s brain was slow to register that the door had been wide open.  Cabinets banged, and then Zoro was back, kicking the door shut, holding a fat tub of cooking lard.

“Shit,” Sanji gurgled, though it came out like “Shnngghhnn” as Zoro dropped to his knees and swallowed Sanji’s cock whole.  The tub’s lid clacked on the floor.  Zoro’s wonderful, perfect, yesrightthere fingers stroked into Sanji again.

Zoro’s lips smacked as he released Sanji’s length once more, and Sanji wanted to kick him but he seemed to have lost his ability to do anything but spread his legs further and moan like a whore.  Then Zoro’s fingers left, too, and Sanji managed a baleful glare that ended when Zoro moved over him, pants down around his thighs.  Zoro pushed back Sanji’s knees.  He felt Zoro’s stiff cock poke against his hole and his eyes grew huge when Zoro bore steadily forward.

A sharp pain knifed through his ass and into his lower back.  Sanji threw his head back, hair scraping against the decking.  Fuck.”

Zoro was unrelenting, rocking his hips slightly, pushing further and further in.  Sanji dug his fingers into Zoro’s arms and kicked Zoro’s thigh with his heel.  Rrrh,” Sanji grunted through clenched teeth, rolling his head on the floor.  He felt Zoro bottom out, his pelvis flush against Sanji’s ass.

Zoro stilled, sweat dripping along the curve of his cheek.  His eyes were shut tight, his mouth creased with the appearance of agony.  It was the look of someone who had a tenuous grip on his control.

Sanji sublimated the surprising sting, taking it inside himself and releasing it with a slow exhale.  He adjusted to the discomfort of having a spear shoved into his guts.  Fuck, Zoro was in him.  He squeezed around Zoro, testing the tenderness, and Zoro made a sound like a hurt mongrel, his eyelids flew open, and he stared at Sanji with dark, hungry eyes.

Sanji swallowed thickly, desire slowly wrapping around him again.  Zoro slid his hands along Sanji’s hairy calves, pulling Sanji’s ankles onto his broad shoulders, bending Sanji practically in half.  He supported himself on his forearms on either side of Sanji’s head.  Sanji’s breathing quickened in anticipation. Watching Sanji intently, Zoro drew his hips back and thrust.

“Aah!” Sanji exclaimed, arms slamming against the floor on either side of him.  His feet jerked in the air.  A strange not-pain radiated through him.  Zoro thrust again and Sanji saw stars.  Nnaghh!

“Sanji…” Zoro said his name like a prayer, and Sanji was gone.  He gave himself over to Zoro’s fucking gladly, body jolting from shocks of pleasure that bordered on being too much.  His fingernails scratched the floor with every thrust of Zoro’s hips, his mouth slack with unbridled ecstasy.

Zoro drove into him, cheeks, neck, and chest flushed red with passion.  His heavy-lidded gaze never left Sanji’s face.  The lewd slap of skin against skin filled the pantry.  Sanji’s bare toes curled, his breaths coming in harsh pants.  His erection rubbed teasingly against Zoro’s lower belly.  He didn’t know why they hadn’t done this before, especially because it felt so damned good.

“Shit,” Zoro muttered softly, his thrusts becoming uneven.  Sanji moaned raggedly as Zoro’s hips moved faster.  Zoro’s mouth twisted, eyelids screwing shut, and he slammed a final time against Sanji’s ass and stilled.  Sanji could feel the pulse of him coming, and it was really dirty, and really hot.  Sanji’s balls lifted and tightened.  He needed to come so badly he could taste it.

Zoro collapsed on top of him, pushing his legs even further back.  Sanji whimpered at the needed pressure on his cock, but it wasn’t enough.  He struggled to get his arm out of his sleeve and shoved at Zoro’s deadweight with his other hand.  “Don’t leave me like this, bastard,” he said jaggedly.

Zoro shifted without moving his face from the curve of Sanji’s neck and pushed his hand between their bodies.  Sanji sucked in a sharp breath, eyes rolling back, and he came in a few rough strokes all over his stomach.

“Hnn,” Zoro hummed contentedly and fell silent. 

Sanji drifted in an orgasmic haze, stroking his thumb absently along a scar on Zoro’s bicep.  Zoro lay like a heavy blanket over Sanji.  The ship creaked as it rocked on the waves.

Zoro licked a patch of skin on Sanji’s neck and pushed upright.  Sanji blinked the fog from his mind, his right leg slipping from Zoro’s shoulder.  Zoro caught Sanji’s left ankle, turned his head, and pressed a kiss on the swell of calf muscle before lowering the leg.  The gesture was more intimate than having Zoro’s cock inside Sanji and Sanji became very aware of what they’d just done.  Sanji’s cheeks heated and he looked away.

When Zoro pulled out, Sanji felt empty, exposed, and awkward.  The comfortable, post-coital cocoon had broken.  He needed a cigarette.  He needed Zoro to stop eyeing him warily.  He needed to wrap his mind around the fact that he’d just had sex with Zoro.  That he had fucked him.  That he would do it again in a heartbeat.

Zoro tucked himself away, wiped his come-streaked hand on his pants, and offered it to Sanji.  Sanji took the hand and let Zoro pull him into a sitting position.  His ass throbbed.

“Uh…”  Zoro rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly appearing as uncertain as Sanji felt.  “That was…nice?”

Sanji slid his shirt over his shoulders.  He stared at the dip between Zoro’s collarbones where a droplet of sweat had caught.  He swallowed past the lump in his throat.  “We’re going to do it again.  Often.”

Zoro’s chin shot up.  “We are?”

“You heard me,” Sanji scowled, jerking his gaze to the side.  He saw his trousers dangling from the rim of a cask.  “Give me my pants.”

Zoro snagged the trousers, passed them to Sanji, and Sanji saw a bright flash of a grin that made his stomach tie in knots.  “Shitty swordsman,” he muttered, dragging his trousers on.

Zoro laughed openly, jumped to his feet, and danced out of the way of Sanji’s low kick.  He grabbed his katanas from the rice bag stack.  “Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

Sanji’s head whipped around.  “What did you call me?”

Zoro only laughed again and slipped through the outer door onto the deck.

Sanji’s heart pounded erratically.  Did Zoro— No, he didn’t.  He couldn’t.  It was a coincidence.  A fluke.  The really great sex was messing with his brain.  Zoro had said that he hadn’t remembered.  Sanji had been right there and had heard it with his own ears.  Zoro hadn’t been lying.

Had he?



End



Send Feedback