There were two things that he and Sanji excelled at, and they both began with the letter F.
The sounds and scent of sex filled the dry pantry beside the galley, where they’d locked themselves away. The soft glow from the lantern, sitting on a barrel near the door, created writhing shadows on the wall and crates. Zoro moaned into the blanket beneath him, his aching erection rubbing against the coarse material every time Sanji thrust into him. Their injuries from Wano still hadn’t fully healed, adding a bite of pain to their coupling. His fingers clenched the blanket’s material, toes digging into the floor, as Sanji took him.
It had been months since they were last together, sometime between Fishman Island and Punk Hazard. The tension between them was still sharp from Sanji’s running off. They’d tried to fight it away, but it still lingered. Sanji had initiated the encounter between them, and Zoro knew he’d had hoped sex would make it disappear.
Zoro felt Sanji’s thrusts get faster, lose their rhythm. He felt Sanji’s fingers dig into his hips, and after a sharp intake of breath, Sanji was coming. Zoro could feel Sanji pulsing inside him. Sanji released the breath he’d been holding, rested his forehead between Zoro’s shoulder blades, and panted hotly against Zoro’s sex-dampened skin. Zoro waited until his own aching need demanded attention. He raised up on his forearms, giving Sanji the hint. Sanji moved off him.
Zoro turned over, sat up, and grabbed the sex oil sitting nearby. He used it on himself, coating his rigid erection liberally. Sanji watched him with sloe-eyes. Setting the oil aside, Zoro wiped his hand on the blanket and reached for Sanji. Sanji came willingly, straddling Zoro’s lap. Zoro swallowed a moan when Sanji impaled himself on Zoro’s cock.
Normally, Zoro would lay back and watch through his lashes as Sanji rode him to completion. This time, he remained sitting up, their faces close together, his hands wrapped around Sanji’s waist. He could feel Sanji’s breath against his lips, see the flecks of black in those blue eyes. Sanji’s hair swayed with every rise up and down on Zoro’s lap. His rough hands were braced on Zoro’s shoulders and he watched Zoro with a weighty gaze in return. The intimacy of it drove Zoro quickly to the edge. He felt the orgasm building and his hips shifted up of their own accord. Sanji obliged him by riding faster, and Zoro tumbled into the abyss.
When Zoro finally caught his breath, he found Sanji still watching him. Zoro lifted his hand from Sanji’s waist to brush the blond hair away from his face. Sanji didn’t jerk away like Zoro had expected. Exposed, their closeness allowed Zoro to see the tense lines around Sanji’s eyes, something he’d missed before. It made his chest ache.
Zoro had been furious with Sanji for running off a month and a half ago. If he hadn’t overheard Sanji filling in Robin with what had occurred on Whole Cake Island - which was likely only part of the story - Zoro would still be furious. He’d thought they’d had an agreement that they’d help Luffy achieve his dreams and for Sanji to take off like that, it was a slap to Zoro’s face. Loyalty meant a lot to Zoro, and friendship even more. He didn’t want nor make friends easily. It was difficult for him to trust. But he trusted the Straw Hat crew. He trusted Sanji. And Sanji had seemingly thrown that away.
But he hadn’t, Zoro knew now. The idiot cook probably thought he could handle things on his own. The thing was: he didn’t need to, and he should’ve known that. He should’ve known that he could count on his nakama. That he could count on Zoro, for anything.
“Don’t ever leave without me again,” Zoro told him, voice thick and rough.
Sanji’s eyelids fell shut and he took a shaky breath. The hands on Zoro’s shoulders clenched and then relaxed. His body seemed to soften. When he opened his eyes again, Zoro found relief and another emotion swimming within them.
Sanji leaned forward and kissed him.
Zoro was shocked. They didn’t kiss. They hadn’t in all the time they’d been having sex. Kissing meant intimacy beyond getting their rocks off. Neither of them had ever shown they’d wanted anything more.
Sanji pulled back, wariness written in his expression. Zoro stared at him, mouth agape. A different type of tension coiled between them.
There was one thing that he and Sanji were terrible at, and it began with the letter F.
Sanji started to turn away, but Zoro brought his other hand up and cupped Sanji’s cheeks. He studied Sanji for a moment, drinking in the sharper features, the trimmed mustache and goatee, the mismatched eyebrows that made Sanji self-conscious. This was the face of the person that was beside him when he fought battles in his dreams. This was the face of the person he wanted beside him when he fought battles while awake. This was the face of the person he wanted beside him, period.
Zoro closed the distance between them, pressing their lips together for a second kiss. Sanji made a faint sound and the tension melted between them. Sanji wove his arms around Zoro’s neck. Their mouths opened for one another, the kiss deepening. Sanji’s lips were chapped and rough. He tasted of cigarettes and the sake they’d had at dinner. Zoro felt like he’d been waiting for this all along and hadn’t known it.
Their second kiss turned into a third, and then a fourth. They fell back onto the blanket and Zoro rolled them so he was on top. Arousal returned. Lips never parting, Zoro began to move within Sanji again, long, slow thrusts that seated him deep. Sanji wrapped his legs around Zoro’s waist, flexibly tilting his hips, accepting every inch of Zoro’s hard cock. Sanji’s fingers clenched the back of Zoro’s green hair, his breath hot where it gusted against Zoro’s upper lip. Zoro couldn’t get enough.
Zoro could feel Sanji’s rigid erection trapped between their sex-slicked bodies. Zoro’s lower abdomen caused friction against it every time he thrust. Sanji was making soft sounds of pleasure in the back of his throat. Zoro could feel climax building in the base of his spine, but he didn’t want it to be over. Not yet. He shifted so he could get a hand between them, wrapped his calloused hand around Sanji’s length, and began to jack him to the rhythm of Zoro’s thrusts.
Sanji gasped against Zoro’s lips, and then their kissing became more wild and messy. Sanji bounced between Zoro’s hand and hips as Zoro picked up his speed. Suddenly, their mouths parted, and Sanji arched his head back with a low cry of completion. Zoro latched onto Sanji’s throat with his mouth as Sanji spilled between their bodies. He sucked a bruise onto the delicate skin near Sanji’s Adam’s apple and allowed himself to follow Sanji into climax.
Spent, Zoro lay draped atop Sanji, nuzzling into his neck. His body felt languid. Sanji’s finger swirled absently in the back of Zoro’s hair. The lantern light flickered. The ship rocked beneath them on the waves.
Zoro moved first, knowing that Sanji would be wanting a cigarette. He pressed a kiss on Sanji’s neck before rolling onto his back on the blanket. The curtain of Sanji’s hair hid his face as he partially dressed. “‘M’going to take a shower,” he murmured before unlocking the door and slipping from the room.
Zoro stretched and scratched at the cum drying on his belly. His thoughts started spinning, wondering how this changed things. Sanji hadn’t said anything, but neither had Zoro. Emotions were messy and complicated. Maybe they’d be better off forgetting it and going back to their normal routine.
Zoro worried at his lower lip, watching the lantern light play on the wall. When no great solution appeared in his brain, he gave up. After enough time had passed that he knew Sanji’d be out of the shower, Zoro stood. He slid on his trousers, picked up the rest of his clothes and katanas, and left the room.
The bathroom was indeed empty when Zoro reached it. He cleaned himself quickly. It was late, past two in the morning. A yawn cracked his jaw. His bunk beckoned for him down in the men’s quarters.
Zoro redressed, tossed his towel in the laundry basket, and opened the bathroom door to find Sanji standing on the other side of it. He, too, had redressed, but was sans suit coat and tie. The sleeves of his pale blue shirt were rolled up his forearms. There was a vivid bruise on his neck. Zoro was surprised to see him. “What–?”
“Come with me,” Sanji interrupted and disappeared down the ladder.
Confused, Zoro slid his kantanas into their loop at his side and followed. He reached the library and Sanji latched onto his wrist. He tried to pull away, but Sanji held fast. “What’s going on, dartboard brow?”
Sanji led them both outside, onto the upper deck. Nami’s mikan trees and the plants in Robin’s garden ruffled in the faint breeze. It was warm outside, even though it was late. The crescent moon was the only light. In the curve of the deck rail, the blanket that had been down below was spread. Two opened bottles of beer sat beside it.
Zoro grew awkward, a weird feeling clogging his throat. Sanji tugged Zoro over and then down with him onto the blanket. Zoro looked everywhere but at Sanji. He suddenly didn’t know what to do with himself.
“A beer isn’t going to kill you,” Sanji murmured, a hint of amusement in his tone. He didn’t look entirely comfortable himself, though.
Zoro set his katanas aside, and when finally looked at Sanji, he saw Sanji had nestled his back against the rail, knees spread, and was holding out his hand toward Zoro. An offer instead of a demand. One Zoro had to choose to take.
Zoro put his hand in Sanji’s.
Sanji’s relief was palpable, and Zoro nearly laughed. Sanji was as uneasy as Zoro about this. Zoro smiled sheepishly and it was replicated on Sanji’s lips. With some urging, Zoro found himself seated between Sanji’s thighs, resting back against Sanji’s muscled chest, deceptively hidden beneath a tailored shirt. It was a position he’d never been in before and he wasn’t certain if he liked it.
Sanji offered him one of the beers and took the other for himself. After taking a swig, Sanji wrapped his arms loosely around Zoro, beer dangling from his fingers. Zoro was still able to drink unhampered and he guzzled half the bottle. He felt Sanji huff in disgust at the speed he drank. He grinned.
The two men sat quietly, drinking their beers, enjoying the night. Starlight twinkled in the sky overhead. Waves lapped at Sunny’s hull. The faint breeze flicked the sails. The scent of the sea mixed with the scent of mikan fruit. Nestled against Sanji like this, bracketed between Sanji’s arms and strong thighs, Zoro realized he felt safe. It was the first time he’d ever felt like this. It was strange and reassuring all at once. He wasn’t sure what to do about it.
Zoro set his empty beer aside. Sleep tugged at his eyelids. He should really get up and head to his bunk. Put some distance between himself and Sanji so he could get some perspective.
But he felt warm and comfortable, and well-laid. Sanji’s solid body supported him, arms still wrapped around Zoro shoulders. He could feel Sanji’s soft breaths against the shell of his ear. Zoro let his eyes close. He’d give it a few more minutes, allowing himself to enjoy this before reality set in.
He felt the brush of Sanji’s lips against his ear as he drifted off to sleep.
Morning came, and Zoro cursed the brightness the sun brought with it. He roused to find himself alone on the upper deck. A gull circled overhead. The beer bottles were gone, as was Sanji. Zoro vaguely remembered Sanji waking him up to move, saying something about breakfast. It had still been dark, though, and Zoro had gone right back to sleep.
Zoro didn’t know if he felt happy or perturbed to find himself alone. What he and Sanji had shared last night certainly changed things. A jumble of emotions plagued Zoro and he needed to sort through them.
Gathering the blanket and his katanas, Zoro went to take a piss before heading to the men’s quarters to change. Snores greeted him in the cabin, his crewmates still asleep. The blanket went in the laundry with yesterday’s clothes. It was his day to throw the wash in the machine and he trundled the basket below deck. He’d gotten lost twice by the time he’d fetched all the baskets. Damn ship and it’s moving stairs.
The sun had risen farther when Zoro finally escaped from below deck. Robin was sitting beneath the tree on the main deck, reading a book. Usopp and Chopper were doing stretches. Zoro had seen Nami pass by on her way to the observation room, a map tucked under her arm. Jinbe was swimming off the port side.
Sanji was in the galley, where Zoro knew he’d be. Breakfast sizzled on the stovetop. The scent of bacon, ham, cinnamon and coffee filled the air. A giant stack of pancakes stood under the warmer. Sanji moved fluidly between cooking stations, almost as if he were dancing. Scrambled eggs and toast were plated. Sticky buns came out of the oven. Zoro enjoyed watching him work.
“Are you going to stand there or are you going to set the table, marimo?”
Zoro should’ve known Sanji had noticed his arrival. They both possessed a sixth sense. Awkwardness settled around his shoulders as he went to fetch the plates from their storage place. He wasn’t someone who shied away from challenges, though. It’s why he’d come to the galley, to confront this thing head on. He wanted to know how things stood between them.
Zoro headed back into the kitchen area for the utensils. Sanji walked toward him, arms balancing plates of food. Zoro geared himself up to say something and found himself being kissed before he could utter a word.
Sanji’s face pinked and he deftly dodged around Zoro to put the food on the table. Zoro stood there like an idiot for a moment before a grin broke out on his lips. That answered that question.
“Finish setting the table, shit swordsman. I’m ringing the bell.”
With a lift in his step, Zoro did as told. He blocked a kick meant to “wipe that stupid grin off” his face. Nothing was settled, but everything felt right between them. Zoro couldn’t wait to get Sanji alone again.
Sanji rang the breakfast bell, and Luffy shot through the door instantly. The others trickled in at varying speeds. Zoro took his seat at the table as Sanji swanned around, greeting crewmates, pouring drinks, fawning over how radiant the ladies looked in the morning. Zoro rolled his eyes and dug into the cinnamon pancakes he’d piled on his plate.
“Ne, Sanji, why do you have a bruise on your neck?”
Sanji’s face turned bright red and he fled into the kitchen. “Forgot the syrup!”
Brook laughed and Franky clapped Zoro on the back. Nami and Robin exchanged knowing looks. Usopp scratched his head. Chopper fretted, chasing after Sanji, thinking he’d been hurt. Jinbe appeared contemplative. Luffy went right back to eating as if he hadn’t said anything.
Zoro willed the heat in his cheeks to disappear. He cut a glance over the bar dividing the dining and kitchen area. Chopper was trying to get Sanji to bend down. Sanji looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him. He shot Zoro a look that promised retribution, and maybe a whole lot more. Zoro’s heart skipped a beat.
There were two things that he and Sanji excelled at and one that maybe they weren't quite as bad at as he’d thought, and they all began with the letter F.
End