Chapter Text
How had they gotten here? Sanji pressed back into the brick alcove, arms around Zoro’s head, fingers scratching through hair, their mouths open and hungry in a kiss. Feeling Sanji’s tongue against his, warm and vibrating with his moans, after two years was short circuiting Zoro’s brain. His hands roamed up the lithe –but bulkier– back and gripped at Sanji’s trim waist.
“Fuck, dartbrow, you got even hotter, what the hell?” Zoro said, tugging at Sanji’s lower lip with sharp teeth. Sanji laughed around a gasp as Zoro palmed at his ass.
“Yeah?” He grinned, flush high on his cheek. “Can’t say the same for you, Cyclops.” Zoro snorted as Sanji’s hand came up his damaged eye, his fingers gentle when his words were not. “Let me guess, you got lost and ran eye first into your own sword?”
“How is that even possible, shit-cook?”
“I don’t know, but you’d figure it out, mosshead.”
Grumbling goodnaturedly, Zoro leaned in and began pressing slow, open mouthed kisses from Sanji’s jaw to his shoulder. God, he’d missed this. Missed the feeling of the cook melting into him, his strong hands pulling Zoro closer and closer. Missed the smell of sweat and cologne, something woodsy and bright, and the taste of cigarettes and spices. Missed the way Sanji would curse, his voice low and breathy as Zoro sucked on his earlobe.
“You smell so good.” He said, burying his face in between Sanji’s neck and shoulder, breathing deeply, hands trying to pull him tighter. Sanji’s head fell back against the wall, one hand carding through Zoro’s hair –did he like the longer hair?— the other gripping at his bicep.
“You got bigger, you fucking gorilla.”
“I wanted the rest of me to match my dick.” Zoro smirked, pulling back to look at Sanji, he waggled his eyebrows. Sanji snorted and pressed his entire hand to Zoro’s face, pushing his head back.
“What a dumbass thing to say. Stop talking.” So Zoro stopped talking, pulling the cook’s hand away from his face and kissing him. He couldn’t help but smile into the kiss, this was how things were supposed to be. Sanji shit talking and Zoro trying to fuck him. It was a weird balance, but it worked for them. Most of the time.
Zoro had arrived on Sabaody first. He’d never tell anyone this, but he’d made sure to arrive early, in case he got lost. Then he ended up, somehow, on a ship heading down to Fishman Island. He had just wanted to go fishing, goddamnit.
After he had rectified his mistake by leaving the wrong ship in two pieces, he was surprised to see the cook standing on the shore. He looked good. Broader in the shoulders, hair a little longer and parted on the other side, and a stupid goatee. Somehow Sanji pulled off the goatee, which Zoro would never admit under pain of death.
They had bickered and fought on their way to the market, but there had been an undercurrent of heat in their interactions. When they got up into each other's faces, it was more lingering, as their shoulders brushed and hands clutched at collars. Eyes strayed to mouths and hands wandered to necks. So, Zoro had taken initiative and pulled the prickly cook into an alcove to let that heat out.
Oh, yeah, that’s how they’d gotten here.
With a warm hand, Sanji pushed aside Zoro’s hakama, running his fingers up his abs and grabbing at a thick pec. Zoro huffed into the kiss as Sanji moaned happily, his hand groping and massaging. Tits of any kind were acceptable, apparently. With the tug and pull at his nipple, Zoro let out a groan of his own.
“These got bigger, too.” Sanji said, bringing his other hand up to squeeze the other pec. Resting his forehead against the cook’s, Zoro watched himself be fondled. He hated to admit it, for some reason, but the tugs and pulls felt really good. “Shit, I could fuck between your tits now.”
“Yeah?” Zoro gasped as Sanji dove down to take a nipple in his mouth, and sucked hard. “Fuck, cook.” It made his toes curl, the wet suction and the hint of teeth. His hand was tangled in the cook’s hair, pressing him close in encouragement. Okay, maybe he really liked his tits being played with. Sanji licked his way over to the other nipple, making sure it got equal attention, his fingers still playing with the wet and peaked one. He pulled away with a groan, pupils wide and mouth red. Zoro surged to his mouth, kissing him breathless.
Crushing Sanji’s against the wall, Zoro ground against him, both fully hard and aching now. They moaned in unison, hands scrambling to grip harder and pull closer. Zoro gripped at Sanji’s ass with one hand, sliding it down his thigh and hiking it up and around his waist. He’d missed the cook’s flexibility, how close they got with his leg wrapped around him.
“Tell me you have something, curly.” He said, fingers straying to Sanji’s hole, rubbing it through the cloth. Sanji jerked his hips forward at the touch, arms clenched around Zoro’s neck and shoulders. “I need to be in you.”
“You think I carry that shit around with me?” Sanji asked, panting.
“I mean, yeah? You’re a chef, what if you have an emergency chef thing.”
“Emergency chef thing, oh my god. So I keep cooking oil up my ass, just in case?”
“That’d be real convenient, curly. Probably not sanitary, though.”
“Fuck off.” Zoro grinned at the smile Sanji was fighting against. His hair was mussed, and more golden than ever, and he could see both of his eyes, bluer than any ocean, even the All Blue. With his flushed cheeks, and bright smile, Zoro couldn’t fight the tight feeling in his chest as he looked at the cook. He was in love with this idiot, and it hurt like hell.
Sanji took his hand from Zoro’s back, reached into his inner suit pocket, and pulled out a small jar of oil. Zoro’s eyebrows rose as he plucked it from the cook’s hand.
“Chef emergencies, like I said.”
A flush rose on Sanji’s face and neck, spreading down to what Zoro could see of his chest. “It’s not cooking oil, you fucking idiot.” His head was turned to the side, jaw tight and brows furrowed. Embarrassed and so fucking cute.
“Fucking oil?” Zoro asked, his voice strangled. Sanji gave a curt nod. Fuck. Fuck. Turning the cook’s head to face him, Zoro cradled his face in his hands and kissed him. It was thorough, soft, tender and maybe, maybe Zoro wasn’t alone in how he felt. Maybe, as Sanji’s tongue wound itself around his slow and sinuous, this could be real.
Sanji started on Zoro’s zipper, pushing his haramaki up his stomach. Zoro grunted as a hand grabbed his cock, hips jerking as they kissed. He fumbled at Sanji’s pants, getting them open, and pulling them and boxers down just below his ass. Pulling out the stopper, Zoro poured oil into his hand, and brought his fingers to Sanji’s entrance.
“Yeah, fuck.” Sanji gasped, mouth falling to kiss along Zoro’s jaw. Slick fingers traced around his rim, teasing. “It’s been two fucking years, mosshead, get on with it.”
“It’s been two years, Curly, don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t hurt me, shitfuck.” Zoro looked at him, noticed how Sanji wouldn’t make eye contact. His heart gave a sick lurch.
“You let other people fuck you, cook?” He knew that wasn’t a fair question. He knew that they never said anything about being exclusive.
“God, no.”
“Then what?”
Blowing out a frustrated breath, Sanji glared at Zoro. “I’ve been fingering myself, asshole. Why else would I have the oil?”
Oh. Oh. That was fucking hot. “That’s fucking hot, Curly, fuck.” Zoro pressed one finger into Sanji, groaning as it went in smoothly. He kissed the cook as he pumped his finger in and out of him, loving the feel of it and the movement of Sanji’s hips. Sanji was gripping Zoro’s face as they kissed, smothering gasps into Zoro’s lips. Pressing a second finger in, Zoro moaned as it went in as smoothly as the first one. “Did you play with yourself this morning, Curly? Fuck yourself with your fingers, wishing it was my cock?”
Frantic, Sanji nodded, his hands moving to clutch at Zoro’s back and shoulders. “Yes, that what you wanna hear? Now fucking get in me, Zoro.” Spreading his fingers, he fucked them into the cook. The gasps and moans falling from Sanji’s lips were like rainwater after a drought. He drank them and pulled them into his mouth, savoring them. He knew he hit Sanji’s prostate when the leg around his hip tightened and a low whine escaped him.
“You could come from this alone, couldn’t you?” Zoro asked, fingers rubbing insistently on that spot. Sanji was shaking his head, but breathy moans were tumbling out of him as one hand gripped Zoro’s hair tight. His hair was a mess, his bangs pushed back so both eyebrows were exposed. Zoro pressed gentle kisses to both ridiculous brows, a surge of fondness rushing through him. “I’ve got you, Curly.”
Wrapping his slick hand around himself, Zoro hissed in relief. With his cock slicked up, he pressed the head against Sanji’s entrance, moaning at the soft give. He pushed into him slowly, breath hitched at the tight, warm heat. Sanji’s head fell back against the wall, eyes unfocused and mouth open as he breathed.
“God, Zoro. ” He gasped as Zoro’s hips hit his ass. Zoro wrapped himself around Sanji, arm around his waist, the other one up his back so he could cradle the back of Sanji’s head. His breathing was heavy as he pumped his hips, trailing heavy kisses across the cook’s jaw. His movements felt like the tide, constant and overwhelming. Like no force on the planet could stop him, like this is what he was made for.
They moved together, bodies in sync and almost telepathic. Reading each other’s movements and gasps and moans. Sanji’s hips moving to meet Zoro’s in languid rolls. Zoro’s hand leaving Sanji’s waist to grab his hand, twining their fingers together and kissing his knuckles. Zoro doesn’t dance, has never danced, but this feels like what dancing should be. So wrapped up in the other person that you can feel yourself breathing out of their lungs.
“Can you come like this?” Zoro asked, forehead pressed to Sanji’s. Swallowing around a shaky, shuddery gasp, Sanji nodded, overwhelmed. Zoro kissed him, foolishly pouring everything he felt into the kiss. The way his heart would skip a beat whenever he saw golden hair flash in the sun. The way he couldn’t stop himself from smiling when they fought, relishing in the challenge. The way he felt safe and surrounded when Sanji would trail his fingers through his earrings, a soft smile on his lips.
“Zoro, zoro, god, zoro.” Sanji repeated, like a mantra. With a sharp intake of breath and a low moan, he came between them, spilling onto Zoro’s chest and pecs. He trembled and shook as he brought his hand to Zoro’s cheek, blue eyes hazy but open, so open it was like looking into the sun. With soft fingers, he brushed his hand over Zoro’s face, thumb smoothing a furrowed brow, forefinger tracing the whorl of his ear, pinky tickling his earrings, making them chime sweetly.
“ Sanji .” Zoro begged.
“Come on, mosshead. Wanna feel it.” Zoro shook as he came, burying his face into Sanji’s neck, breath raspy and heavy. He felt like he was coming apart, every part of his body vibrating with the force of his orgasm. He brought his head up to kiss Sanji, but paused when he saw the warm, small smile Sanji had on his face.
Heart in his throat, he started, “Cook-”
“Time to go, Mossy.” Sanji pushed him away, eyes fluttering when he felt Zoro slide out of him. Pulling up his pants, Zoro used his sash to wipe up the come on his chest, causing Sanji to bristle. “That’s disgusting, you gorilla.”
“What? You wanted to lick it off or something?” Zoro felt the moment disappear, everything back to normal. Bickering and disdain and disgust. This was how things usually ended, any softness completely gone and Sanji acting like he’d done Zoro a favor.
“Fuck off, like I’d do something like that.” Sanji had done exactly that before, his tongue hot and warm on Zoro’s skin. Zoro let it go. That was a fight with the cook he didn’t have the patience to have.
Zoro picked up the jar of oil from where it had fallen to the ground, and tossed it to Sanji. The flush that had been fading from his face came back with full force as he stuffed the little item into his pocket.
“Not a word to anyone, shitty-moss.”
“Who would I tell, shit-cook?” Zoro was tired now, all energy sapped from him. He’d just have to get used to this again. He’d done it before, dealing with Sanji’s hot and cold attitude. He liked to think that one day he’d get over his Sanji bullshit, and be able to live without his heart in a vice. It didn’t seem like it was going to happen, if two years away did nothing to lessen how he felt, he didn’t think any amount of time would fix him. Fuck. “I wanna go fishing.”
“Are you fucking dumb? Don’t answer that. We have to meet up with everyone, remember? Two years? Crewmates? Luffy?” Sanji was completely composed again, suit fixed and impeccable, hair combed with fingers and cigarette in mouth. Any sign of their coupling hidden behind clothes, tucked away from view.
Zoro turned and began stalking away, done with this encounter. Sanji called after him, insults and curses hurled at him. Maybe he had to be done with Sanji for his own pride, his own self respect. If he hadn’t seen the moments of open, soft Sanji, it would be easier. He wouldn’t feel like Sanji resented him for seeing those moments, and then would double down on being an asshole. Maybe some things were just better unknown.