Chapter Text
Sanji sprawled lazily on the galley couch, his lanky frame taking up more space than necessary. One arm rested comfortably behind his tousled blond hair, while the other busied itself with scribbling new recipes in his distinctive loopy handwriting. The chef's playful nature shone through as he twirled the pen between his fingers, a small smirk playing at the corners of his lips. Every so often, he paused and let a culinary thought simmer and steep in his mind before putting it down on paper with a flourish, as though each stroke was an artful creation. The air around him was filled with the soft sound of the waves gently lapping against The Sunny's sturdy hull, a soothing rhythm that made him feel particularly at ease. It was a rare moment of peace aboard the lively ship, one that Sanji intended to relish fully.
The gentle creak of the wooden deck and the warm, inviting scent of saltwater provided a tranquil backdrop to his musings. Even the playful shadows cast by the sunlight seemed to dance in time with the sea's melody. Sanji let out a contented sigh, feeling the sun's embrace radiate warmth throughout the small space. The atmosphere was perfect for creativity and relaxation, a chance to indulge in his passion for cooking without interruption. His mind wandered as he considered which ingredients would best capture the essence of their next destination, mentally tasting each dish before committing to the page. The promise of new flavors and techniques filled him with anticipation and excitement.
In the midst of his recipe brainstorming, Sanji's gaze flicked to Zoro, who sat a short distance away. The swordsman was a silent but reassuring presence, keeping the couch from becoming too lonely. Zoro, as usual, was deeply immersed in his own world, which suited Sanji just fine. The tranquility of the moment wasn't something he wanted to spoil with their usual banter, though he felt a familiar urge to tease. Sanji considered tossing a comment Zoro's way to see if he could get a reaction, but decided against it just this once. For now, he was content to let the quiet camaraderie between them linger.
Zoro sat with the poise of a monk, deeply absorbed in the precise art of cleaning his swords. His frame exuded a rare tranquility, combining both a readiness for action and an unwavering focus on the task at hand. Each of his blades caught the mellow light filtering through the room, their surfaces bright and luminous. It was as if they were mirroring not just the light, but also a reflection of Zoro's intense concentration and dedication.
The swordsman's movements were steady and unhurried, displaying a ritualistic finesse that came from years of practice. He ran a cloth with deliberate care along the length of each sword, his touch firm yet gentle, as he banished even the tiniest trace of dust and grime. This rhythmic devotion was almost meditative, a testimony to his mastery and reverence for his weapons. It was clear these swords were more than just tools to Zoro; they were an integral part of him, just as crucial as breath itself.
The tranquil atmosphere of The Sunny complemented his routine. Even the flickering shadows seemed to ebb and flow in harmony with Zoro's fluid, meticulous movements. He relished these small pockets of quiet, where he could lose himself in the familiar comfort of sharpening his skills alongside his blades.
Zoro glanced at Sanji, who was still lounging with a recipe notebook in hand, the chef's concentration split between culinary musings and occasional looks in his direction. Sanji’s face was alive with thoughts of cooking, distant and absorbed, unaware that Zoro was aware. The swordsman smirked inwardly, appreciating the serene spell they were both under. Their camaraderie was as unspoken as it was unbreakable, a shared moment of peace before the inevitable chaos of their next adventure. Zoro looked back at his gleaming swords, content to let this moment stretch out a little longer, savoring the simplicity of the quiet.
A yawn played at the corners of Sanji's lips as he stretched his legs, inching his feet towards Zoro's outer thigh. With a casual flick, he nudged a little further, enjoying the simplicity of focusing on ingredients and techniques. He imagined the crew enjoying the new dishes, hearty laughs, and cheerful banter filling the dining room. His big toe dotted an imaginary "I" in the air as he doodled with his pen, then he kicked out his foot more confidently, setting his heel against Zoro with a satisfying thunk. He didn't realize exactly where he’d landed as he adjusted the paper in his lap, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.
As he thinks, he is curling and uncurling his bare toes in Zoro's lap, sinking further into the couch with every movement. His heel dug in with unexpected precision, and he blissfully continued his writing, unaware of the chaos he was causing. Zoro's posture shifted slightly, a clenched jaw betraying what his stoic face would not.
Zoro had been mid-motion, running the cleaning cloth down his sword's steel with a steady, practiced hand, when he was rocked by a sensation completely unfamiliar to him. Sanji's foot, with its unexpected accuracy, had landed right in the center of his lap. The contact was soft, the touch light, but both were enough to make Zoro set the blade aside with a defeated clatter. He remained still, gripping the cloth tightly in hopes of controlling the surge of feeling threatening to unravel him. Zoro could feel himself starting to fill out, a slow and inevitable build in response that left him swallowing hard. Sanji's obliviousness only added to his conflicted state; the idea of him realizing what was happening, seeing him flustered and hard from the barest touch, was enough to make his head spin.
The mere thought of Sanji discovering the situation and taunting him set a small thrill of dread coursing through his veins. The potential humiliation loomed large, a taunting specter that somehow fueled his erection rather than staving it off. Zoro tried to rein in his reactions, but his body betrayed him; the twitch of Sanji's foot and the resulting friction only made him grow harder, more vulnerable to exposure. He felt heat rise to his face—a rare and unsettling occurrence. Why couldn't he just shove that damn foot away? Was he actually enjoying this? His mind was a whirl of confusion and reluctant arousal, yet beneath the chaos, a part of him thrilled at the predicament.
Suppressing a groan, Zoro's grip tightened on the cloth in a vain attempt to ground himself. He needed to focus, to get back to training, to pretend this wasn't happening. But with every slight movement of Sanji's toes, his concentration shattered further. He could almost hear the smug laugh that would escape Sanji's lips, the teasing words that would surely follow. "Getting off on this, marimo?" The anticipated taunt echoed in his head, and weirdly, perversely, it only turned him on more, as if the prospect of being mocked made the whole situation even more loaded.
Sanji, meanwhile, remained blissfully immersed in his world of recipes and culinary musings, too lost in thoughts of flavor and texture to notice the growing tension beside him. But the calm didn't last long. It began with a subtle awareness, a shift in sensation, as his foot pressed against something firm. Gradually, through blissful ignorance, he felt it—a distinct and undeniable hardness developing under his heel. For a brief moment, he thought it might be a trick of his imagination, doubting even what his senses were telling him. The realization hit like a surprise gust of wind, and he paused his writing mid-sentence, his curiosity piqued.
Sanji watched with barely concealed amusement as Zoro battled to maintain any semblance of composure, taking in the sight of his rival visibly unraveling. The swordsman, usually the very picture of stoicism, appeared uncharacteristically flustered, struggling to keep his cool. Sanji could see the cracks forming in Zoro's demeanor, the gaps where confidence usually resided, replaced now by full-fledged mortification. Zoro's face was turned away, a desperate attempt to hide from the situation, as if pretending Sanji wasn't seeing this vulnerability would somehow spare him the embarrassment.
He'd never thought he'd see the day when Zoro would get so worked up over something as innocent as a stray foot, and he found it immensely entertaining. The mighty Zoro, vanquished not by swords or fists but by a simple touch, desperately trying to keep his dignity intact while the very thing he dreaded was unfolding right in front of him. Zoro's hands were frozen mid-task, the cloth forgotten as he sat rigid, his entire posture a testament to how undone he was by the development in his lap.
Sanji's thoughts danced with possibilities; he could almost hear the teasing quips lining up, ready to be fired. Maybe he'd say, "Guess it doesn't take much to get you all hot and bothered, huh, marimo?" The opportunities for mockery were endless, much to Sanji's delight.
With Zoro's pride clearly on the line, Sanji wondered just how long he could milk the situation before Zoro exploded in frustration or imploded from sheer humiliation. The prospect was delicious, and Sanji savored every moment of watching his proud rival squirm and fidget, caught in an overly revealing bind. Was Zoro actually blushing?
Sanji stretched his legs out a bit more, testing the situation with a teeny nudge. It wasn't his imagination after all. His foot had well and truly hit the mark. As he soaked in the scene, Zoro's resolute avoidance of eye contact spoke volumes. Sanji couldn't help but chuckle, a soft sound that threatened to escape as he watched Zoro wrestle with the predicament. So, the marimo isn't as tough as he pretends, he mused. Sanji knew exactly what this meant, and the prospect of teasing Zoro was too tempting to resist.
The chuckle finally broke free, a low, amused sound that cut through the ambient noise of the waves. "You're awfully quiet, Zoro," Sanji drawled, letting his voice curl around the words just as mischievously as his foot curled around its target. "Cat got your tongue? Or is it something else?" Zoro's throat bobbed, a hard swallow as if he were choking down a growl. The foot remained in place, damnably insistent against him. His mind raced, grasping for some way to turn the tables or at least not completely lose them. The idea of conceding this round to Sanji grated against his pride, but his resolve was faltering, worn down by relentless teasing and his own unsteady heart.
Finally, he unclenched his jaw long enough to mutter, "Enjoying yourself?" It came out rougher than intended, more like an admission than the retort he'd hoped. Sanji chuckled and teased, “What's wrong, marimo? Losing your edge?" letting the words roll out with as much mischief as he could muster.
Zoro didn't move, still staring determinedly away. "Nothing's wrong," he grumbled, his voice low and strained.
"Sure about that?" Sanji prodded, his voice laced with feigned innocence. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you're in a bit of a bind."
"You're imagining things." Zoro's mouth was a stubborn line, but his words lacked their usual conviction. He tried to slide back, to free himself from Sanji's reach, but all it did was press him further against the teasing foot. The motion coaxed a choked sound from his throat, and he cursed under his breath.
Sanji reclined casually, exuding an air of ease, and gave another teasing nudge with his toes. "Imagining this too, then?" he inquired, enjoying the faint noises stifled behind Zoro's clenched teeth.
Zoro was at a loss, a rare state for him. His body and mind were in open rebellion, one leaning into the contact, the other screaming for escape. His usual tactics for dealing with Sanji—stubbornness, aggression, indifference—were useless here. He was caught, plain and simple, his predicament all the more infuriating because of how much it was turning him on.
He knew the smart move would be to concede, to give Sanji the victory this once and hope the cook didn't milk it for days on end. But damn it, he’d never been good at waving the white flag.
Sanji watched, amused and curious, wondering if the swordsman would crack or hang on to his pride by a thread. The sight of Zoro, so visibly conflicted, made Sanji's day. He watched as Zoro's shoulders tensed, his jaw clenched in defiance even as the rest of him screamed surrender.
Zoro remained coiled tight, like a spring wound close to breaking. He was desperately trying to hold himself together, his pride hanging by a sheer thread of control. But as Sanji added more pressure with his foot, the sensations shifted. Pain mingled with pleasure, creating a heady mix that wrapped around Zoro's senses and squeezed. It was too much. His mind slipped further, the combination making him dizzy with desire and leaving him completely unraveled.
Where was his self-control now, he wondered, feeling himself drawn closer with every movement? Where was his willpower when he needed it the most? He could no longer deny the truth that pressed insistently against him—he wanted this. He couldn't deceive himself any longer; he was actually enjoying it. Forgetting about pride, forgetting about anything, Zoro felt the dizzying mix of humiliation and arousal collide and explode inside him. This was insane. He was insane. It was almost terrifying how badly he wanted to give in, to admit defeat just this once. Giving Sanji the satisfaction felt like admitting weakness, but right then, he didn't care. Was he really going to give Sanji the win so easily? The added pressure taunted him, each nudge sending his mind spiraling. Zoro's restraint shattered like glass, a million pieces impossible to put back together, leaving him with nothing to hide behind. The weight of his desire was undeniable, crashing over him in a wave of weakness and want.
He was going crazy, absolutely crazy, feeling too much at once, and he knew it. His stubbornness, his pride, his resolve—useless against this relentless onslaught that Sanji seemed to enjoy so damn much. Why couldn't he just push Sanji's foot away and pretend this never happened? It was too late to save face, too late to pretend. No matter how he tried to fight it, how he tried to deny it, he didn't stand a chance.
Every fiber of his being screamed to let go, to stop pretending he wasn't into it. Zoro's ability to keep up any pretense of indifference crumbled in fast succession, one splinter of composure after another cracking beneath the pressure. His breathing was uneven, and the pounding in his chest almost drowned out the sound of Sanji's taunting chuckle in his ears. His entire body was betraying him; he knew, and worse, Sanji knew.
Finally, Zoro's hand shot down, grabbing Sanji's foot with a rough, almost desperate grip. He couldn't help himself. He ground against him, leaning into the contact, feeling the last of his defenses crumble.” Ah, cook!” he moaned as the sensation ripped through him, raw and intense, leaving him wide open and exposed. He gritted his teeth, trying to rein in some of the noises that threatened to escape.
"What marimo?" Sanji taunted, his eyes shining with barely hidden triumph as he felt Zoro grind with increasing urgency.
The mighty swordsman was falling apart, right there in front of him, all because of a little goading and well-placed touch. Sanji savored the sight, delighted in the undeniable fact that he had Zoro completely at his mercy. The power he held in this moment was intoxicating, a heady thrill that pulsed through him as he watched Zoro squirm and give in.
Sanji teased him further, letting his voice curl with even more playfulness, "Getting off on this, marimo?"
Zoro's response was a guttural sound, not quite a word, more of an unrestrained admission. He was impossibly close, teetering on the brink, and Sanji knew it. Knew the exact effect he was having. Zoro's head tipped back, exposing the stretch and strain in his neck, his body finally caving to the relentless teasing. Zoro was so far gone he barely noticed the smirk curling at the edges of Sanji's mouth, the gleam in his eyes as he watched his crewmate unravel.
Sanji’s foot moved with the perfect rhythm, each press and shift driving Zoro closer and closer. Zoro was breathless, fighting to keep any of the noises in, but a ragged moan tore free as he hit the edge. The sound was raw, unguarded, and seemed to echo around them.
Zoro's entire body tensed as energy coiled tight, only to explode, releasing jolts of pleasure that surged through him with relentless force. It hit him everywhere at once, his senses alight with the intensity. He couldn't believe how good it felt to let go, to be this raw and uncontrolled. The sensations were all-consuming, pushing him past any limit he'd ever known. And this was no ordinary release. It built and built until he was shaking, the need to control completely lost to the incredible waves coursing through him. He felt the powerful rush flood his system until it seemed like his whole world tilted.
Zoro's hard length pulsed hot ropes soaking his underwear and spreading warmth across his skin. Sanji's foot kept up its torment, expertly working him through the intense release and making sure Zoro felt every wild, shuddering second of it. The aftershocks hit him in waves, each one dragging more guttural noises from his throat and making him jerk helplessly against the pressure. It was overwhelming, a sensory overload that pushed him so far he was sure he'd never come back. His grip on Sanji's foot began to soften, the strength and urgency of it melting away just like the rest of him.
As he rode out the high, he felt something happen. His mind, usually so focused and sharp, softened. Thoughts blurred, and he sank deep into a space he couldn't quite put a name to—a headspace he'd never touched before. Zoro had never been this exposed, this vulnerable, and it was nothing like he imagined. It felt like an out-of-body experience, a strange and exhilarating freedom. The sensations that once teetered on the edge of painful were now soft, almost gentle, and they covered him completely. Sanji’s relentless teasing had stripped him bare, but in losing himself like this, he'd never felt more alive.
It was overwhelming and new, a sensation that washed over him and left him hollowed and full at the same time. He let himself give in, his body going soft and quiet as he reveled in the moment. It felt better than anything else because of how raw it was.
Sanji felt the shift, saw the way Zoro's body eased into a state he'd never witnessed before. It was like watching a storm quiet to a gentle rain, and Sanji's teasing instinct gave way to something softer, more tender. He kept his foot there, now still and comforting, sensing Zoro needed this—needed him to just be present and not push the moment away with a joke.
His voice lost its edge, turning warm and slightly awed. "Didn't know you had it in you," he murmured, the words almost a whisper, more for Zoro than for himself.
Zoro didn't respond, not right away. His eyes were closed, his breathing deep and unhurried, a peacefulness settling over him that was as rare as it was unexpected. Sanji could hardly believe it—this was the same man who'd been so wound up moments before, now looking like he'd just discovered a whole new part of himself.
Sanji watched him intently, taking in every change in Zoro's demeanor with fascination. When Zoro finally opened his eyes, they held a slight glassiness that hadn't been there before, a look that seemed both dazed and completely at peace. The mighty swordsman seemed almost dreamlike, and Sanji marveled at the transformation.
"You really are full of surprises, you know that?" Sanji said, letting the awe show in his voice, unable to keep the warmth from seeping into each word. He’d never seen Zoro like this, and a part of him hoped he’d get to see it more.
Zoro blinked, a slow, lazy movement, before a small, genuine grin worked its way to his lips. "You saying you haven't figured me out yet?" The words were softer than usual, tinged with a vulnerability that Zoro rarely showed. He still looked slightly unfocused, and for once, he didn't mind.
Sanji chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. "Nah, I think it'll take a few more rounds like that." He watched as Zoro seemed to process the statement, the glassy look deepening. Then Sanji caught a different glint in those hazy eyes, something playful and determined.
Zoro shifted, his grip on Sanji's foot tightening, but this time without the urgency. "My turn," he said, voice low and filled with intent.
Sanji raised an eyebrow, caught between surprise and intrigue. "You sure about that, marimo?" He hesitated for a moment, knowing Zoro was in a headspace he'd never seen before. He didn't want to rush things, didn't want to take advantage of how open and unguarded Zoro was. But the look in Zoro's eyes left little room for doubt.
Zoro nodded, more certain than Sanji had expected. "Want to," he insisted, leaving no room for argument.
Sanji sucked in a breath, Zoro's conviction catching him off guard. "Then I guess it would be rude to say no, wouldn't it?" he replied, finally giving in and allowing the anticipation to build within him. The idea of Zoro returning the favor sent a slight thrill through Sanji.
Zoro knelt in front of Sanji, his fingers moving with surprising care as he caressed Sanji's feet. A reverent air hung around him, as if he were now the one worshipping, the one drawn to something greater than himself. His skin was flushed, his entire focus centered on what he was doing, and Sanji sucked in a breath as the realization hit him—Zoro was really going to follow through.
He felt Zoro's lips, warm and insistent, trailing slow kisses from his ankles to his calves, moving ever upward. The sensation was electric, sparking along Sanji's nerves and making him wonder how long he'd be able to hold out. He fought to keep his cool, but Zoro's attention to every inch, every spot that made him twitch, was threatening to undo him already.
Sanji had not been expecting this, not from Zoro. He couldn't believe that Zoro, who was always so hard around the edges, so rough and tough in everything he did, was suddenly so soft. Yet here was Zoro, on his knees, worshipping the very legs he often cursed during their fights. Sanji's legs had always been his strength, the thing he relied on second only to his cooking. And now Zoro was treating them with reverence, like they were the most precious thing in the world. Sanji watched in disbelief as Zoro's lips moved with a surprising gentleness, as if each kiss was a way of thanking Sanji for helping keep everyone safe with those legs, for being strong and steady when it counted.
The care and focus Zoro showed were almost overwhelming, and Sanji struggled to understand it. It was the attention and admiration that left him more flustered than any of Zoro's taunts ever had. "I don’t get you, marimo," Sanji said, his voice carrying a bewildered edge. But Zoro didn't stop, the warmth of his lips trailing slowly up Sanji's legs. "A guy like you, doing something like this?" Sanji continued, trying to keep the shaking from his voice. He was totally unprepared for just how tender Zoro’s touch could be.
"Shouldn't be surprised," Zoro shot back, his words muffled by another careful kiss. "Told you it was my turn." The look in his eyes was steady, and Sanji realized with a rush of awe that Zoro meant it—meant to take his time, to return every ounce of what he'd felt.
Sanji's mind raced, the unexpectedness of it all making his heart pound in ways he'd never admit out loud. But even as he tried to wrap his head around it, to grasp why Zoro was being so damn sincere, another part of him didn't care. Another part just wanted to feel what Zoro was doing, without question or hesitation. So he let go, let himself sink into the moment, into the sensation of Zoro's mouth on his skin, into the dizzying, consuming thrill of being the one who was now so completely undone.
Zoro's path continued, unhurried and thorough, as he worked his way up Sanji's legs, each press of his mouth leaving Sanji's usually unflappable composure more and more rattled. When Zoro finally reached his destination at Sanji's hips, Sanji groaned, low and involuntary. He could barely stand it, the anticipation and the knowing that this was Zoro's revenge.
Zoro's path continued, unhurried and thorough, as he worked his way up Sanji's legs, each press of his mouth leaving Sanji's usually unflappable composure more and more rattled. When Zoro finally reached his destination at Sanji's hips, Sanji groaned, low and involuntary. He could barely stand it, the anticipation and the knowing that this was Zoro's revenge.
With a deliberate slowness, Zoro undid Sanji's belt, seeking permission in the moment, and Sanji's only response was an eager nod that betrayed just how desperate he was. Zoro grinned at that, a flash of teeth that was both feral and knowing, before pulling out Sanji's hard length.
Zoro was a man possessed, driven by the need to return every moment of pleasure he'd been given, and more. There was no hesitation in him, no second-guessing. It was pure determination. He wanted Sanji to feel the full force of his focus, to know the effect he had on him. The anticipation of it was all-consuming, a burning need that left him barely able to wait another second. With a swift and decisive motion, he satisfied his hunger to have things—everything—in his mouth. He took Sanji all the way to the hilt so quickly it was almost dizzying.
It was an all-encompassing focus, the world narrowing to the sensation of Sanji filling him completely. He reveled in it, the newness and intensity, the way it felt to give back every bit of what he'd received. His mind buzzed with the thrill of it, a fire igniting as he sank deeper into this new role, this careful and intense attention that seemed to demand his all.
Sanji immediately threw his head back, a sharp gasp giving way to a string of curses. "Fuck, marimo, you're—" His voice cracked, unable to finish the thought as pleasure overtook him. He couldn't believe how good it felt, how overwhelming it was, Zoro's eagerness and skill stripping away any semblance of control he thought he'd have. A moan tore through him, loud and uncontrollable, and he couldn't help but remark, "Damn it, you're too good with that mouth." It was an admission and a compliment, full of honest disbelief and heat.
Zoro took the praise like a challenge, his determination kicking into overdrive. He doubled down, his rhythm unrelenting, as he lost himself more and more in the act of making Sanji fall apart. He loved the sounds that spilled out, the way Sanji's body reacted to each movement, each press and shift of his mouth. The attention he was receiving, the way Sanji seemed completely focused on him in return, sent a thrill coursing through him.
Sanji's fingers tangled in Zoro's cropped green hair, pulling him closer, his touch desperate and unrestrained. He was losing it, utterly losing it, and Zoro could feel it in every labored breath, every tremor of Sanji's frame. Zoro kept looking up, catching Sanji's eyes between gasping breaths. There was an intensity there, a silent plea that was unmistakably clear. He wanted more.
Sanji was on the brink, pushed to the edge so fast he could hardly believe it. He didn't last long under Zoro's relentless attention. The combination of Zoro's skill and his own desire to return him to that blissed-out state left him breathless, and he tightened his grip on Zoro's hair. He pulled him closer, and a barely coherent thought crossed his mind. Zoro looked up, determination in his eyes, and it drove Sanji wild.
He had never felt anything like it. The sensation of Zoro taking him so deep and so fast was overwhelming, the sudden rush making his head spin. He didn't expect to be so undone so quickly, and he fought to hold on, but Zoro's enthusiasm made it impossible. Each movement was intense, a new surge of heat that left Sanji reeling and wondering how long he could keep up. Zoro's sheer dedication sent Sanji to heights he hadn't anticipated, and the idea of completely losing himself was so tempting he almost gave in right then.
Sanji's breath came in ragged gasps, desperate and unrestrained. He was dizzy from it all, from how thoroughly Zoro was unraveling him, from the near-helpless way he was chasing that peak. He had to hold out, had to make sure Zoro was just as open, just as vulnerable. It spurred him, the image of Zoro in that state, and he tried to hold back, but damn it if Zoro wasn't making it impossible.
"Shit, Zoro, you've gotta—" He broke off, a moan interrupting as Zoro took him deep again, the sensation almost too much to bear. "Fuck my mouth," Zoro mumbled as he came back up for a breath, the words sent a jolt right through Sanji. He almost lost it right there, the idea so hot and so unexpected that it made him dizzy. He hesitated for a fraction of a second, unsure if Zoro really meant it, but the insistent pull of Zoro’s hands on his hips cleared any doubt. Sanji's restraint shattered, and he thrust forward, watching as Zoro took everything he gave, relentless and eager.
Zoro's eyes rolled back, almost pornographic in their abandonment, as Sanji set a brutal pace. It was intense, immediate, and the feeling was like nothing else, making Zoro moan around Sanji's length. His awareness narrowed to the sensation of his throat being used so completely, and he loved it—every relentless second. It was overwhelming, that familiar thrill of pain mixed with pleasure, and it drove Zoro wild.
"You like it rough, huh?" Sanji breathed out, the words strained with disbelief and heat. He watched Zoro's reaction, saw the way his entire body seemed to shiver with each thrust, and it only spurred him on. The mightiest swordsman on the seas, reduced to this—reduced to a gasping, eager mess—and Sanji couldn't get enough.
Zoro was so consumed he didn't even hear the teasing. He just let himself sink deeper and deeper into the sensation, letting it fill him up. A low growl of satisfaction vibrated through him, his need and dedication pushing back in equal measure.
The more Sanji gave, the more Zoro wanted, and the pace only increased. The rawness of it, the way his throat strained and his mind blurred, sent a different thrill through him, making him grow hard again. It was exciting in ways he was only just beginning to understand. But even as his arousal returned with full force, Zoro stayed true to his focus, not touching himself, not wanting to be distracted from the overwhelming feeling and the act of giving Sanji all he had.
Sanji felt the thrill of it right down to his toes, the sight of Zoro so uninhibited and intense, almost enough to throw him over the edge. He'd never imagined Zoro could be like this, and seeing it, feeling it, was more than he could handle.
"Fuck, marimo," Sanji gasped out, his voice breaking with both admiration and the sheer force of sensation. "You're too fucking much." He knew he didn't stand a chance, not when Zoro was like this, not when Zoro was so completely out of control yet so determined in his focus.
Sanji’s pleasure kept growing, building into an overwhelming crescendo that threatened to undo him entirely. He could feel the familiar stirring of one of his signature nosebleeds, the first hint of warmth sliding down his face. The sight of Zoro on his knees, so unguarded and relentlessly sexy, was more than Sanji could handle. He never imagined the swordsman could look like this—lost to it, fervently focused, and determined to take everything Sanji could give. The awareness that Zoro was loving it, the way he was shamelessly taking in all the pleasure and chaos, sent Sanji to a place where holding back was no longer an option. He was on the brink, the sensations flooding him with such intensity that the nosebleed felt inevitable.
Sanji couldn't help it when Zoro was like this, couldn't control the rush of heat and desperation that filled him. His restraint shattered as he looked down, and that was when he saw it—Zoro's eyes, wide and filled with tears from the relentless pace. It was too much, the rawness and eagerness a sight Sanji would never forget. He couldn’t hold back any longer, everything joining together in a sudden, all-consuming rush.
Sanji felt his orgasm building, a cresting wave that threatened to take him completely. It was coming fast and hard, and he didn’t want to finish down Zoro’s throat, didn’t want to be the one lost to this overwhelming intensity. He tried to pull back, to hold onto the barest thread of restraint. But there was no way, not with Zoro still on him, still relentless. The grip on his hips was insistent, and a clear message burned in Zoro's eyes—he wasn't going to let Sanji go, wasn't going to let him hold back. Zoro wanted him to lose it, wanted to take in everything Sanji had.
It overwhelmed him, the thought of Zoro needing this, needing him, needing Sanji's come on his tongue. The way Zoro held him made it impossible to pull away, impossible to hold back from the edge Zoro was pushing him towards so expertly. Sanji wanted to hold on, wanted to see Zoro undone first, but he couldn't. Not with the way Zoro was looking at him, not with the way Zoro was taking him, pulling him down into that chaos until he was so breathless and dizzy that he couldn’t think of anything else.
Sanji finally came, choked gasps and moans spilling out as his control broke entirely. The intensity of it, the force of it, surprised even him. Zoro stayed with him the whole way through, taking it all down his throat, swallowing without hesitation. Sanji’s climax hit him so sharply that it left him breathless, and Zoro's determination to capture every moment and every drop sent a fresh thrill through Sanji. He couldn’t believe how thoroughly Zoro outdid him, how the swordsman managed to surpass all expectations once again.
As his pulse slowed, Sanji watched in disbelief, the sight of Zoro savoring every second burning into his memory, an image that would drive him crazy each time he remembered it. "Fuck, Zoro," he gasped out, his voice barely above a whisper.
Sanji wanted more. His mind reeled from the image of Zoro furiously trying to swallow every bit of his release, making a messy and intense show of it that was both overwhelming and surprisingly hot. He was barely coming back down to earth, the world slowly aligning back into focus, but his body still hummed with anticipation and an unquenchable urge. The fierce determination on Zoro's face, the sight of him still on his knees and completely unguarded, fueled Sanji's desire to see his partner fall apart all over again. He wanted to make Zoro as desperate and blissed out as he had been a few minutes ago, not stopping until he wrung out a second and final orgasm. The thought sent a wild thrill through Sanji, and he couldn't help himself. He reached for Zoro's shoulders to pull him back up and swap roles again.
Yet as Sanji's gaze traveled down, he noticed the evidence of something he hadn't expected. The swordsman had already finished in his own pants, leaving an even bigger stain on the front that was impossible to ignore. Zoro gazed back with eyes still wide and teary, and the slight flush of embarrassment in his cheeks was impossible to miss. Sanji froze at the sight, too stunned to do anything but stare dumbly at the mess, until a stray crackle of a laugh left his throat. He quickly clamped his mouth shut, not wanting to offend, but something about the situation, about Zoro unable to hold out long enough to be properly finished off, was too endearing for Sanji to contain. His amusement couldn't be hidden even if he wanted to.
"Seriously? Now this is unexpected," Sanji teased, his voice thick with playful warmth and disbelief. He brought a hand up to sweep across Zoro’s cheek, brushing away the tears. His touch was soft, a gentle counterpoint to the hard and relentless pace they'd set only moments before. He watched as Zoro shifted slightly, a full-bodied shiver running through him, and wondered whether it was the embarrassment or lingering pleasure that still clung to him, making him so susceptible to Sanji's lightest touch.
The fingers now tangled in Zoro's hair, working to urge him closer. Sanji bent down, planting a chaste, affectionate kiss on the top of the swordsman’s head. "I guess not even you can handle all this, huh, Marimo?" There was an unmistakable note of affection in the words, and Sanji let himself linger there for a moment, relishing the feeling of Zoro so close, before pulling back. His nose was still dripping slightly from the earlier excitement, and a fresh streak of blood smeared Zoro’s face. Sanji swiped a careless thumb over it, futilely trying to rub it away, but only ended up smudging it more.
Zoro wiped a hand across damp lips, catching his breath, and narrowed his eyes at Sanji, as if daring him to keep laughing. "That's a lot coming from the guy who's bleeding like a damn faucet," Zoro shot back, the words a little breathless and punctuated by a short huff of air that could have been a laugh if Zoro let it be one. He knew Sanji well enough to feel the lingering affection behind his teasing, and though a kernel of true embarrassment sat in his gut, he tried to ignore it. Instead, he focused on the warmth of Sanji's touch, the way it seemed to crackle with an unexpected tenderness.
"Guess that makes us even," Sanji murmured softly, his voice carrying a playful undertone. He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to Zoro's lips. The gesture lingered in the air, infused with a sense of promise, as if Sanji was silently agreeing to a future that extended beyond this fleeting moment. It was as though he was making an unspoken vow that there would be more shared moments between them. As he pulled away, he did so with a playful flourish, his movement light and teasing. A grin began to form, tugging at the corners of his lips, adding a spark to his eyes.
"You're such a damn mess, marimo," he said once again, watching the way Zoro seemed to bask in his words, his earlier embarrassment melting into something softer and more content.
"You like it," Zoro shot back, trying for nonchalance even as the way Sanji was looking at him, the way he was treating him, those small gestures that showed he cared, turned him inside out.
"I do," Sanji admitted, the words carrying a weight that neither of them wanted to acknowledge just yet, not with things still so new and unexpected. His fingers trailed along Zoro's jaw, soft and careful, before his gaze drifted back to the mess on Zoro's pants. "Guess I can't complain if I'm leaving you like that, right?"
His chest felt tight with something he didn't want to name, something that made him think this went beyond anything he'd expected to feel with Zoro. Not this. Not so suddenly and so intensely. He leaned in closer, eyes curving in laughter as more blood dripped from his nose onto Zoro's cheek, a bright red testament to his inability to hold it together.
"Seriously," Zoro said, feeling the warmth and wetness trickle down, "You've gotta do something about that." He wiped at the mess, managing to smear it and little else, and Sanji leaned back again, knowing that if he stayed too close, he wouldn't be able to resist doing something reckless like kissing Zoro all over again.
Sanji’s expression was full of mischief and affection as he reached up to pinch his nose, effectively stemming the flow. "All better," he announced, drawing back with a satisfied air as if the simple act of stopping his nosebleed was the greatest achievement of the day.
Zoro gave him a look that was equal parts fond and exasperated, and it made Sanji's heart knock against his ribs in a way that should have been embarrassing, that would have been if Zoro didn't have a similar expression on his own face.
Sanji's gaze lingered on Zoro's lips before he finally pulled back, fully this time, and tried to regain some semblance of composure. He settled back, drawing a lazy hand through his own hair, and looked at Zoro with a mixture of amusement and something that bordered on awe. "Damn, marimo," he said, the words infused with a warmth that seemed to wrap around them both like a blanket. For once, the nickname sounded more like an endearment than an insult.
Zoro continued to kneel, as if unwilling to break the moment just yet. He kept his focus on Sanji, drinking in the sight of him, and stayed silent for a beat longer. The intimacy of it, the unexpected closeness, filled the space between them with a kind of peaceful quiet that neither had expected after the chaos.
As Zoro stayed there, so close, he watched Sanji fumble with his clothing, tucking himself back in and zipping his pants slowly, as if drawing out the moment. The swordsman's eyes tracked each movement until he could fight the pull of exhaustion no longer. Slowly, Zoro let the full weight of his head drop into Sanji's lap, giving in to the comfortable haze that surrounded him. Sanji paused briefly, gaze drifting back down to meet Zoro's. He stroked a hand through unruly green hair, finding unexpected solace in the quiet corner they'd carved for themselves. Zoro was already looking a little out of it, and something about the way he started to relax, the way his breath evened out against Sanji's skin, sent a wave of satisfaction through Sanji. His heart sped up even as the rest of him wound down, happiness and contentment settling into his bones in a way he hadn't thought possible.
Zoro's eyes fluttered shut, and for a second, Sanji really did think he might fall asleep there, sprawled out across him. It was almost too much, too absurd, and too perfect. Zoro's ability to just give in and rest, with that hint of a smile and a hint of stubbornness still visible, was something Sanji had never quite expected to see for himself. It drove home a feeling that had been gnawing at him ever since they'd started—this was more than he had imagined. More intense, more overwhelming, more of everything. The tension in his chest spilled over into the gentleness of his touch, the way his fingers lingered as they traced the line of Zoro's jaw. He couldn't deny it anymore, not with the way his heart was pounding. Maybe not with the way Zoro's was, either. Their closeness was undeniable, and Sanji reveled in the newness of it all, the unapologetic vulnerability that neither of them was trying to cover up.
He let the silence stretch, let it wrap them up like a secret only they shared. He watched the serenity settle on Zoro's face, the slow breaths making Sanji's thigh rise and fall under his weight, and he couldn’t help but smile. Sanji knew that if anything could wake him, it would be Sanji's voice, so he spoke up, the words casual but layered with meaning he didn't want to put out there just yet. "Okay, if we say it's a tie?" he finally asked, letting the question hang between them as his fingers continued their soft path through Zoro’s hair. Zoro was about to answer, his mouth opening to protest the idea of a tie, when his eyes drifted shut. Sanji blinked in surprise as the swordsman slumped forward, too exhausted to stay conscious any longer. A tired grumble that might have been Sanji’s name escaped him before he went completely limp, and there he was: Zoro, in all his stubborn glory, right on Sanji's lap. This marimo really doesn’t know when to stop, Sanji thought with amusement as he watched Zoro settle in. The swordsman's deep and even breathing was a testament to how thoroughly he’d been pushed, and Sanji couldn't help the fondness that crept over him as he glanced down at Zoro’s relaxed face. The sight made something warm bloom in his chest.
"You're a cute bastard, Zoro," he muttered, his words only half-teasing. The day hadn't gone as he'd expected, but he wouldn't change a thing about it—not the intensity, not the aftermath, and definitely not Zoro's current state. He soaked in the unexpected peace, gazing at the sight before him with contentment.
With a final glance at Zoro's sleeping form, Sanji started to set himself back to rights. He adjusted his own clothes, his fingers still tingling from the earlier adrenaline and the feel of Zoro in his hands. Once he was reasonably put together, he turned his attention to his apron and its pile of papers, a fond smirk lingering on his face. It only took a second for him to find a recipe he’d been experimenting with, and his mind quickly shifted gears, becoming absorbed in the culinary work at hand.
Sanji was in his own little world, a contented bubble that seemed to protect and cushion him, but it was a fragile thing, and he half-expected something to interrupt it. When no interruption came, he relaxed further, the tension leaving his shoulders and a soft hum of satisfaction escaping his lips as he scribbled down a new set of ingredient combinations. He couldn't help but look back down at Zoro every few minutes, more than a little pleased with the way the swordsman had given out so easily just from what they'd done. It was like a reward in itself, and Sanji felt a rush of pride that he knew he'd never hear the end of once Zoro woke up.
Suddenly, Nami exploded into the galley, her voice ringing out like a firecracker as she called Sanji's name. Her piercing shout shattered the peaceful quiet like a bullet, reverberating off the walls and slicing through Sanji's cozy bubble. "Sanji!" she yelled again, impatient and demanding, and it was enough to make him jump. Sanji's flustered blubbering in response woke Zoro from his slight slumber, and the swordsman groggily blinked up from where he'd been sprawled so comfortably on Sanji's lap.
Nami's eyes widened as she took in the scene—the two of them tangled up with Zoro on the floor and Sanji looking like he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. For a long moment, she simply stood there, mouth agape and too stunned to speak.
Nami’s expression shifted from shocked to exasperated, and then to something like resigned amusement. As if she'd stumbled on this kind of scene before with these two, she sighed dramatically, turning on her heel and leaving as quickly as she had come. Her orange hair whipped behind her, and Sanji barely caught her saying something about not being paid enough to care about what those idiots were doing.
The door swung shut with a bang that left reverberating echoes of her presence, and whatever contented bubble Sanji had been in was thoroughly popped, replaced by a sudden, awkward tension. He and Zoro sat in stunned silence, the spell of their earlier moment well and truly broken. For a beat, neither of them seemed to know what to do. Sanji's hands hovered, unsure if he should keep working or move. Zoro still looked dazed, his green hair sticking up more than usual from where Sanji had been running his fingers through it. His body was a reluctant weight against Sanji's legs.
Zoro grunted, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with one hand and pushing off Sanji's lap with the other. The closeness they'd shared had been so natural and easy until now, and Sanji could feel the loss of it like a physical thing. Was it always going to be like this when the others found out? He didn't have much time to dwell on it, because Zoro was hauling himself to his feet with a long stretch and a noise that was somewhere between irritation and laughter.
"Guess it's back to work," Zoro said, his tone almost challenging as he glanced down at Sanji, who was still sitting amidst the mess of papers and emotions.
Sanji stood with a lightness that he didn't quite feel, brushing off his pants and giving Zoro a crooked smile that wavered between forced and genuine. "Yeah," he agreed, though it wasn't clear if he was responding to Zoro's words or the unspoken question about how they were going to handle things now. He watched as the swordsman made his way to the door, his steps regaining their usual steady confidence.
For a moment, it seemed like Zoro might linger, might say something else, but instead he just tossed a look over his shoulder, the promise of more unsaid tension lingering in the air as he left to train.
Sanji took a deep breath and let the new, awkward silence settle over him. He picked up his apron and squared his shoulders, willing himself to focus on dinner and the recipes that needed his attention.
As he set about the task of getting things back in order, he couldn't help the flood of thoughts about Zoro that filled his mind, and a tired but sincere grin spread across his face. His heart was pounding with the realization that the feelings were even deeper than he'd expected.