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It felt like his head had hit the pillow only a few minutes ago when an insistent hand on his shoulder ripped him out of that cotton-wool drowsiness and right back into sharp alertness again.
Immediately, Zoro reached for his swords hanging from the bedpost on pure reflex, body tensed for a fight while he waited for his mind to catch up to his senses. But no fight came. In fact, there was nothing but the dull noise of the ocean, the familiar cadence of breathy snores and sleepy mumbles of his crewmates.
If they were in imminent danger, he couldn’t feel it, although those bony fingers clutching and shaking his shoulder like fucking death himself could have fooled any man not practiced in haki.
“Oi, you shitty cactus, wake up already.” Hot breath fluttered against his ear in an urgent stage-whisper and oh, it’s the ero-cook, Zoro realised with a start. Unclenching Wado's hilt, he rubbed his eyes clear of any cobwebs of sleep still sticking to the inside of his eyelids.
“'m awake, fucking hell,” he grunted.
Sanji better be grateful Zoro hadn’t separated his blond head from his scrawny body for that little stunt, but Zoro wouldn’t hold his breath for it.
The sharp nails biting finally let up when Zoro pushed himself into a sitting position to give the cook a pointed once-over as much as he could in the oppressive darkness. But Zoro could smell no blood nor notice any discernible wound. He frowned.
“What do you want?"
"Uhhh, well, I mean—, you see, there’s a- a—,” Sanji started on a stammer. For all his urgency, he was suddenly tongue-tied, an unusual occurrence in and of itself. Zoro understandably lost his already miniscule patience.
"Spit it out already," he growled. Whatever it was that had caused the stupid love-cook throw all common sense to the wind and decide to bother him in the middle of the fucking night better be damn important or Zoro would have to seriously rethink his stance on beheading crewmates.
“There’s a sp— a big s— and it crawled up my arm, okay?? Oh fuck, what if had crawled into my mouth?”
Ah, Zoro thought entirely unsurprised. Bullshit then. Not enough to warrant his attention or his sympathy. He fell back into his soft, warm pillow with a groan and pulled the blanket over his head. Definitely not his problem. "Piss off.”
“I’m serious. Don’t— shit, what if it comes back?” The way the cook quivered you’d think he was being forced to watch the most horrible accident instead of imagining a little bug tickling him.
"Dunno. Don't care."
"You're useless."
"So leave me alone then," Zoro shrugged and turned his back towards the cook. Fuck him. When he thought that would settle that, Sanji's hand found his shoulder again, no less insistent than the first time.
"What sorry excuse for a swordsman are you if you can't even take care of that?"
Throwing the covers off again in a huff, Zoro leaned over the low plank of the bunk to really look at Sanji standing there in front of him in the dark. Though the lack of proper light made it hard to see, Zoro could tell at once that there was genuine fear written in the tense lines of the cook's slender body, his angular shoulders almost drawn up to his ears. Even the way he scratched at his own arm was far too desperate to be an act.
What a wimp.
“I’m not chasing some stupid spider for you. Get a grip," he sneered.
“Zoro," Sanji ground out in a rough whisper, his name rolling off his tongue so earnestly as if he were truly haunted by absolute terror.
Did his bushido also cover ridiculous bug-attacks, Zoro wondered dispassionately. Probably not. But could he really, in good conscience, ignore the ero-cook’s plight without betraying his own promise to protect his nakama? (Yes. No. Fuck.)
“Maybe if you begged, nice 'n proper.”
"I— what? Fuck off." Even when clearly scared out of his mind, the idiot couldn't say he needed Zoro's help without insulting him. Typical.
"Ehh. Still a no then.” He didn’t even try to keep the taunt out of his voice anymore.
"Wh—, you feckless son of a bitch," Sanji snapped heatedly, most likely hoping the challenge would motivate Zoro despite his previous disinterest in the matter, if only to prove his battle skills.
But when Zoro merely kept his silence, the cook started to squirm, scratching his arm again, then his neck and shifting his stance. Oh, this was good. After a minute of unbroken eye contact in the dark, Sanji finally turned his face away and Zoro knew he’d won.
" ...please,” Sanji relented in a nearly inaudible mutter but Zoro caught it anyway.
"So you do know how to ask nicely," he couldn't help but gloat.
"Yes. Now will you help me or not?" Sanji glared at him through his fringe, clearly humiliated. It was a good look for him.
For a moment or two, Zoro toyed with the idea of letting the guy stand there and stew in his own misery, the bastard sure as hell deserved it — but he’d said please like that. Damn him.
“Alright, fine,” he grunted and Sanji gave a long sigh of relief. Bloody hell, this was ridiculous. "You owe me, though. Where is it then?”
“I... don’t know. I flung it off my hand as soon as I felt its freakishly long legs. Urgh, I think I need to throw up.”
“Don’t you dare, you fricking pansy,” Zoro threatened and sat back down on the bed again after almost rising to the occasion. Sanji was hugging himself, looking overall miserable, probably imagining the worst-case scenarios and freaking himself out over nothing as he was wont to do. Didn't even raise to the bait of Zoro calling him a pansy and that usually got Sanji's blood boiling.
Hmm.
Scrubbing his short hair in annoyance with both hands, Zoro came to the only sensible conclusion that the fastest way to get back to sleep was to entirely ignore the situation at hand and treat it like it was not a big deal. Because it wasn't. Sanji’s dumb-ass spider probably didn’t even exist. And he sure as hell was not about to go crawling underneath all of the bunk beds because some blond twink had a nightmare, not when his soft, warm pillow was right here, beckoning him to cushion his head.
That should be a compelling enough argument, even for good ol’ curly.
“Just get in,” he patted his mattress and Sanji gave him the dumbest expression yet, gaping like a fish, ridiculous eyebrow a perfect arch over his comically wide eye.
“Hah?!”
“Did I fucking stutter?" When it came to bugs or Zoro, he really wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer, was he?
"I said: Get into. The. Goddamn. Bed," Zoro emphasised, slowly and with forced patience. "If it comes back, I’ll squash it. That good enough for you?”
To demonstrate he was serious, he lifted the corner of his blanket.
"You’ve never shared your bed with me.”
“I‘ll let you this time if you’ll shut up about it.”
Sanji didn’t need to be asked twice, pulling himself up onto the upper bunk bed with practiced ease. Once up, he scrabbled underneath the warm cocoon of Zoro’s blanket with the graceless fear of a man plagued by his personal blend of demons.
“Don’t tell anyone about this,” Sanji had the nerve to order, his voice muffled as he was wrapped so tightly in the blanket that Zoro had difficulty to cover himself. Or even move around without Sanji’s sharp elbow or knee connecting with very sensitive, tender areas.
“Shit-cook, stop hogging the blanket or I swear I’ll personally stuff your mouth with as many spiders as I can find on this bloody ship.”
Sanji positively squeaked at that, a mighty shudder overtaking his huddled form and Zoro almost laughed at how pathetic he was.
“Damn, if I had known that’s the threat that’ll make you finally shut up,” Zoro smirked and earned himself a whack to the top of his head for that comment.
"F-fuck off!"
“You slap me again, I kick you out,” he warned and rubbed the sore spot after a short squabble that ended with an elbow or two in his gut. Bastard. In hindsight, this had been a terrible idea, sharing sleeping spaces was never pleasant. Was it too late to retract and kick Sanji out again?
“Right. Still. Just— don’t say that word," Sanji relented only once his face was pressed into the pillow by Zoro's hand.
“What, spider?” Zoro let go of the soft hair and yanked the blanket toward himself again. Underneath, it was toasty warm with Sanji’s added body heat and he rolled closer to its source despite his annoyance with the cook's theatrics.
“Yes,” Sanji pouted like a five year old.
“You really hate bugs, huh.”
He’d known, of course, was hard not to since the guy wouldn’t shut up about it when they had travelled through Skypiea but he would never have guessed it ran so deep as to trouble the cook even when faced with an infinitesimally tiny insect just minding its own, unimportant business.
“Yeah, I guess.” Sanji’s voice was small and he turned his back towards Zoro, his shoulders hugging his ears. “Whatever.”
“Uh huh.” Zoro did not have to wait long until Sanji gave an exaggerated sigh and glanced back at him. It was a small movement, hard to see but it was there nonetheless.
“Hey, marimo.”
“Mhm?”
“Thanks.” Sanji murmured and Zoro’s body finally relaxed.
“Don’t mention it.” He shrugged nonchalantly and wriggled until he found a comfortable position.
Having Sanji right next to him wasn’t so bad overall. Sure, the guy took up more space than was proper, and had gathered two of the three small pillows around him but his presence was also oddly calming. The whole length of him felt like Zoro’s own private hearth to warm his hands and feet at. Nevermind that the way they were squished into the bunk bed like two sardines crammed into a can made chasing and squashing any spider impossible without waking anyone else. Zoro was wise enough to keep his mouth shut about that, though.
“If it comes back—,” Sanji started again, still riding the coattails of anxiety.
“It won’t. I’m here, remember?”
“Like the benevolent knight of marimo-kingdom, saving the day, huh?” Sanji half-mocked but there was real gratitude in his voice.
“Something like that, Mr Prince of Moronica. I’ll slice it up three ways till Sunday and you can serve it to Luffy when he bugs you for a snack again.”
Sanji’s snicker was quite charming, as much as Zoro was loathe to admit it.
“He’d probably eat it, if I gave it a fancy name,” he mused and they both laughed.
“Oh my god,” Usopp’s thick, sleepy voice cut in from the off and something soft and stinky landed on Zoro’s face. It was his oil-stained undershirt. “Shut the fuck up you two or take your flirting to the galley. Some people are trying to sleep here.”
“No, you shut up,” Zoro childishly barked back and flung the used cloth from whence it came. Next to him, Sanji’s shoulder shook with his suppressed giggles. That fucking guy—
“And you,” he turned around, whispering hotly into Sanji's ear. “Stop laughing. It’s your fault.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Sanji waved him off and Zoro settled down again with a grumble, boxing the left-over pillow to fluff it up.
“Thank you,” Usopp said sarcastically. It only took a few minutes of silence for the unmistakable blanket of sleep to fall over the room again and though Zoro was bone-tired, he couldn’t find that same tranquility within himself as the rest of the crew. He was wide awake now that Sanji had thoroughly rattled him with his nonsense.
Shifting around, he lay on his side, then his back, then his other side. In the end, he cushioned his head on his biceps and stared at the back of Sanji’s head for longer than he cared for.
In the deafening silence, Zoro listened to the creak of the ship, the soft bump of cloth against wood, the clack of his scabbards meeting the bed frame as they swayed on the waves of the ocean. Back and forth, back and forth, a gentle rocking that should put anyone to sleep if it weren’t for Luffy's snores. Or the high whistle of Usopp's nasal exhale, no matter how steady and familiar of a background noise it was. For all Zoro knew, Chopper was dead to the world but he assumed it was a reindeer thing, to be as quiet as possible to avoid detection. Brook probably didn’t even need air. Maybe he was asleep, maybe he wasn’t. Zoro didn’t care either way as long as he didn’t start singing in the middle of the night.
Perhaps it was a good thing that tonight it was Franky's turn to keep night watch, because that guy did hum in his sleep occassionally.
At some point during his sleepless contemplations, Sanji had shuffled back against him, seeking his warmth until his soft hair started to tickle Zoro’s nose. The sudden urge to sneeze became all too overwhelming and he shifted to bury his face between the cook's shoulder and neck instead. Which was a stupid move on his part, all in all, because it meant he was far too close and his nose full of Sanji’s scent.
Unlike Zoro, the cook wore a soft t-shirt to bed, a cotton blend that rubbed along Zoro's cheek like the gentle touch of a lover. It smelled faintly of soap, a little like a stiff sea breeze. Mostly, it smelled of home. Nakama. The faint bitterness of tobacco and spices.
Shit, he cursed quietly and breathed in the scent some more, pushing his nose right where skin met cloth.
Sanji smelled too damn good and the way he was lying meant his whole backside pressed against Zoro's front, too. It was hard not to touch more of that, to let his hands wander and indulge. Maybe if he curled an arm around him, the cook wouldn't bitch too much about it, just for a little while. Since the bunk was rather narrow and all.
"Marimo?" Sanji murmured questioningly when Zoro snuck an arm around his waist and pulled him higher up against his body.
"'s easier to sleep like this," Zoro whispered back and hoped that had sounded convincing enough.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Now shut the hell up."
He waited with bated breath for some vicious come-back but Sanji merely hummed and snuggled into the pillow and into Zoro's hold, just enough to be considered consent.
Zoro exhaled through his mouth as quietly as he could, willing his heartbeat to slow down. The cook was thankfully too tired to fight the embrace. Yeah, that was probably it. No point in letting himself get distracted by the tight feeling in his lower gut. He just needed to will it away and it wouldn't be a problem anymore. It was best if he followed everyone’s example, close his eyes and just go to fucking sleep already. Not focus on each point of bodily contact.
He tried thinking of something else, something unsexy. Like Franky in a dress but it didn't really work. He was just too keyed up and Sanji felt like warm temptation right there in his arms.
Empty your mind, he repeated to himself, trying to find that calm inner center but he only became more aware of the rise and fall of the cook’s chest, the slow shift of those deadly, strong legs against his own.
Despite the seemingly relaxed nature of his posture, there was a certain tension to Sanji's shoulder still that Zoro could feel underneath his cheek. As the minutes ticked by, Sanji grew even stiffer. Not asleep either, then.
"Cook," he spoke into Sanji's ear when it felt like the guy was going to snap in half from the stress. "You need to relax. It's not coming back to get you."
He squeezed Sanji's middle for emphasis, the shirt rucking up in the process. It was the perfect opening for his hand to slide in and settle over a flat stomach. To soothe the other man’s frayed nerves, of course, no other motive.
"I— that's not it," Sanji replied just as quietly and Zoro spread his fingers wide, to cover more of his warm skin. He could feel the cook's stuttered breath in the way the muscles tensed and moved into his palm with each inhale.
"What then?" The longer he kept his hand there, the more heated the cook's skin seemed to become.
“It's, uhhh,” the cook cleared his throat and shifted awkwardly against him in a way that just couldn't be accidental, practically inviting Zoro to follow the dip of his navel down to where Sanji's boxers sat low around his narrow hips. They were a skimpy little thing that did nothing to hide the tempting curve of his ass. Zoro had to only wrap his hand around Sanji’s waist and tug and those tight cheeks would fit themselves perfectly against his crotch. The fabric was thin enough that it would feel as close to the real thing as was possible without undressing. His mouth ran dry at the thought.
“None of your fucking business," Sanji finally grunted into the pillow just as Zoro's fingertips brushed the fine hair above the waistband.
"Huh?" Frowning, Zoro extracted his hand from underneath Sanji's shirt. "You were the one who came crawling up to me like a scared little lamb."
"A scared—? Fuck you, I wasn't scared." Sanji half turned to glare at Zoro in the dark.
"No? You couldn't even say spider without stuttering."
"You know I hate bugs. Stop being an ass about it," he whispered back.
"That's rich. Feel free to go back down if you hate me so much."
"That's not what I meant, goddamnit you shitty algae," Sanji groaned and pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes in frustration.
"Just speak plainly, then," Zoro huffed and propped himself up to face the cook. Sanji was, for the most part, a colorless shadow with sharp angles and the wet glint of one angry eye.
"Nevermind. Good night." Sanji turned his back to Zoro in a show of deliberate dismissal.
"Hey now," Zoro could not let that stand as it was and he grabbed Sanji by the collar and jerked him back around.
“Tell me,” he demanded. Maybe that was a cheap scare trick to lean over Sanji as he was, all towering muscle and broad shoulders, but it had the intended effect.
“It’s—,” Sanji turned his head to the side and clearly struggled with himself. “You know,” he finished lamely as his hand searched around the darkness for Zoro’s, grabbing one thick wrist to pull his hand between his legs.
Oh.
“Oh,” Zoro repeated out loud like an idiot.
“Yeah,” Sanji murmured a shivery, little thing of an answer. Under Zoro’s palm, the warm outline of the cook's erection strained against the confines of his underwear in unmistakable arousal and Zoro followed its stiff shape with curious fingertips, biting his own bottom lip as the desperate heat of his own want flared up again.
“Nngh, don’t do that,” the cook sounded strangled but his hips arched up into the touch all the same.
“You placed my hand there,” Zoro countered. There was a telling wetness spreading fast under his thumb as he rubbed the fabric over the crowned head.
“So I didn’t have to explain. Fuck, Zoro, c’mon—” he protested though he didn’t slap Zoro’s hand away either, his breath hitching noticebly when Zoro cupped him properly.
“Stop clutching your pearls, curly. You like it," Zoro smirked knowingly. “Think you can keep quiet?”
Zoro couldn’t believe his luck. Sure, they’d fooled around once or twice, a little out of their mind from alcohol and cabin fever. But they were both sober now and Sanji had gotten excited from Zoro pressed up against him, so maybe the intensity of those stolen moments in the storage room hadn’t all been in Zoro’s head.
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Sanji stopped the slow grind of Zoro’s hand with his own. Even so, the heaviness of his erection didn’t lessen, pulse thrumming faintly underneath Zoro's touch. He was clearly into it.
“What are you talking about? This is a fantastic idea, best one you had all week.”
“Are you out of your mind?”
“Me? You started this,” Zoro shot back, frustrated with Sanji’s hot-cold attitude towards him that kept them in this perpetual loop of push-and-pull with no clear boundaries and very little release. Sometimes, Zoro didn’t get the stupid cook at all.
“Only because you—”
“Because I what, pervert cook?” Zoro pressed Sanji into the bedding with his body so that his voice washed over him, intimate and a little threatening, quiet enough that it was but a slight buzzing pressure against the cook’s ear. “Share my bed with you? Hm? Do you need it so badly that a little body heat gets you going?”
Whatever excuses Sanji had meant to say died on his tongue and he stilled like a rabbit caught. Even with his face half-turned away, Zoro could feel the heat of his embarrassment radiating off him.
"I do not," Sanji murmured back, voice tapering off in his half-hearted denial. Had it been an actual objection the cook wouldn’t just lie there, his hands bunching up the sheets beneath him, strong legs splayed open.
For all his shitty protests, Sanji was as much of a horny fucker as the rest of them, always circling the girls like a hungry stray, ogling Zoro from across the deck whenever he worked out though he liked to pretend otherwise.
"Right. Coulda fooled me.” Sanji’s cock twitched with the slight squeeze he gave it to prove his point.
“Piss off, you don’t know shit."
"Seems I know enough where you are concerned, love-cook,” he didn’t bother keeping the smug inflection out of his voice. The front of the cook's boxers had become even wetter with their exchange, creating a slippery surface for Zoro’s fingertips to glide along. It was as good a go-ahead as he’d ever get.
Flicking his wrist, putting soft pressure right underneath the senstive head by circling his thumb, Zoro did not have to wait long until—
“Fuck," Sanji cursed emphatically and let his head drop back into the pillow, throat muscles working to swallow thickly, so unwilling to admit to anything. Not that Zoro needed him to, his reactions told Zoro plenty with the way his pelvis tilted up into each slow, calculated stroke down his dick.
“What if someone notices?” Sanji rasped eventually, his hand having let go of the sheets to capture Zoro's wrist in a loose hold again. His fingertips felt searingly hot where they rested against Zoro's pulse point.
“Nah.” Zoro shook his head and sat up on his knees to pull Sanji onto his lap until those two perfect round cheeks cushioned his own aching dick still trapped in his boxers. There was no way he was stopping now, even if he had to lie through his teeth. “They won't mind. Just two nakama helping each other out.”
“That’s a very generous interpretation.” Sanji sneered and propped himself up on his elbows for leverage, pushing his ass back into Zoro’s firm hold.
“Yeah, so?" Getting Sanji to agree to anything was like pulling teeth and Zoro was definitely not in the mood for that, even less for coddling that idiot’s ego. He’d rather beat his head against a wall. Repeatedly. Still, having Sanji so pliant under him was an incredibly arousing feeling. But it could be better if their sleep clothes were out of the way, if it were skin on skin.
Only one way to get there.
“Wanna get off or not?” Zoro asked the only question that mattered and hooked his fingers into Sanji’s boxers suggestively, letting his knuckles brush along the fine trail of hair there.
Sanji glared at him, Zoro just knew it , could feel it prickling along his skin even if he couldn’t see it properly, but that’s all the cook did. Didn’t even push or kick him away.
“Or are you too chicken?” Zoro snapped the rubber band impatiently, hoping to arouse Sanji’s temper enough to override his flakey reluctance. It was a bit risky but despite his blasé attitude Zoro did want this, very badly, in fact. Burned to touch more of that milky skin, hear Sanji moan despite his reservations. To give himself up.
Maybe, if he got really lucky, he could even sneak in a kiss or two.
Sanji huffed after a tense silence. “Yes, fine, alright. Fucking pervert.”
Gotcha.
“The shirt, too,” Zoro urged in a rough whisper and they shuffled around awkwardly until he could kick his own boxers down his legs and Sanji’s tee came off in a tousle of hair and quiet muttering.
When Sanji lifted his hips up in a perfect arc and struggled out of his underwear, Zoro felt charitable enough to help him slip the garment down his endless legs, pausing long enough to admire their strength with sensual strokes along the calves. The prickle of hair was more arousing than it had any right to be.
“Better. Much better,” Zoro noted with a reverent tone he couldn't hope to keep out of his voice. Sanji merely snorted as Zoro felt his way up again, thumbing the V-cut on his lower abdomen and Sanji nudged his shoulder with a knee.
"Tche. Can’t believe I am agreeing to this,” he mumbled and Zoro rolled his eyes.
“Stop bitching and c’mere.”
For once, Sanji seemed amiable to his suggestion and he rolled towards Zoro without hesitation, all lean muscle and smooth skin. And damn, if that didn’t feel fucking amazing, his stiff cock dragging down Zoro’s hip as they repositioned onto their sides, breaths mingling.
In a possessive rush of arousal, Zoro's hands were on the blond man instantly, grabbing anywhere he could, tracing the shape of his cut abs, seeking out the damp-warm inside of his thighs; Thighs that could crush a man's skull, could turn ships to cinders, and now parted easily when Zoro nudged his knee between them, all resistance to Zoro's advances having melted away.
Despite his caustic nature, Sanji seemed incredibly weak to pleasure, practically arching into each carress and Zoro thought he could get used to this, the intimacy of it all. To the way the cook's skin temperature rose whereever he touched, how that trim waist felt underneath his palm as he gave it a good squeeze, to the sound of those shaky breath that told him Sanji was just as affected.
For a rueful moment Zoro regretted the lack of light. No doubt Sanji was blushing himself dizzy, and wouldn't that be a lovely sight? As it were, he only had his touch as a guide but that wasn’t so bad either as Zoro quickly realised, exploring all that contained power of the other man's compact build with indulgent strokes.
He could feel goosebumps prickle up under his palms as he smoothed his hands up towards Sanji's chest. There, his questing fingers found the cook's nipples and he rubbed his thumbs around them in slow, teasing circles until they turned stiff between his fingers. When he pinched them, the cook's voice broke on a small, lost moan.
It was probably the first honest reaction he had not tried to curb since joining Zoro in bed.
“You like that,” Zoro realised and he repeated the action just to hear that little, shocked noise again.
In lieu of a real answer, Sanji merely tipped his head back, his hands fisting the pillow and Zoro greedily seized the opportunity it represented to drag his mouth over the cook's throat, below his jaw, to finally taste the clean saltiness of his skin there. He could feel the cook's pulse, too, fast and erratic, right under his tongue and spiking when he introduced his teeth. There was no way he could hold that urge back, not now that he had him right there.
At the first sucking bite, Sanji’s hard cock bumped against his pelvis, smearing precum like some wet kiss of appreciation, seeking friction. It was all the incentive he needed to pull Sanji closer by his ass, squeezing one tight cheek like he'd always dreamt of doing. It fit perfectly into his palm and arousal swirled hot and heavy at the base of his spine when Sanji canted his hips into the motion with a whimper.
Fuck, but the cook was undeniably into it, and Zoro purposefully shifted so the cook could feel him, too.
“Oh god,” Sanji groaned quietly, like a revelation, once their erections aligned so perfectly the contact nearly short-circuited Zoro's brain. It didn't take a genius to realise the potential of that, even just the tentative press of Sanji's cock right up along Zoro's own had them both breathe in sharply.
Definitely no comparison to those sloppy handjobs they had traded before in the store room. Wasn't even anywhere near the same league, not by a long shot, not when Sanji’s mouth felt hot and wet against his naked shoulder where he tried to smother his soft gasps.
"Do that again," the cook's hand somehow found its way to his hair, tugging sharply at the short strands as if to guide him, encouraging each gentle roll of Zoro’s hips that sent sparks down both their spines. He didn't need to tell Zoro twice.
Swallowing the little saliva left in his dry mouth, Zoro squeezed the cook's ass to anchor himself, rolling his hips slow and purposefully, to not just shove Sanji onto his back and rub himself to completion between those muscular thighs. He'd never get away with that.
It'd be too intimate, too much like fucking, though now that he imagined that, he couldn't think about anything else. To have the cook willing beneath him, spread wide open and groaning for it--
As if reading his mind, those strong legs closed around his middle unexpectedly. Like an inexorable force, the tight hold dragged him fully on top of Sanji with no hope of resisting. Any restraint Zoro had left was completely shot.
“Is this, isn’t this—,” he started. He needed both hands to stop himself from crushing the other. That the cook would want this as well had his stomach flip with an unnamed emotion.
They were pressed tight, no space left where they weren’t touching and Zoro had to keep completely still not to come on the spot then and there; even his knuckles ached from where he grabbed the pillow beside the cook's head. Only the threat of humiliation by finishing too fast from so little pulled him back from the brink.
"C'mon, you bastard, move." Sanji groaned against his throat. The inside of his thighs were damp with sweat where they squeezed Zoro’s naked waist in a bid to get him to move.
He would't have needed to. The brand-hot feeling of Sanji's erection pressing up against Zoro's own was motivation enough all on its own.
He tried to be mindful of those sleeping around him, he really did, wanted to go slow so as to not rock the bed unnecessarily, but Sanji arched up against him the same moment Zoro rolled his hips and the others didn’t matter, nothing mattered beside the ragged groan and the way Sanji’s hands flew to his back, urging him to do it again. So he did, lifting himself up on his lower arms and bearing down until it was not much more than a frantic rut that punched the air right out of his chest. Enough force to even make his earrings chime.
It was hot, too fucking hot, his own cock feeling achingly heavy with all the blood rushing down, and Zoro couldn't stop, couldn't slow the movement of his hips anymore than he could keep Sanji from cursing quietly as he rocked up to meet him with every bit of the same burning determination he reserved for fighting.
“Goddamn asshole, piece of seaweed shit,” Sanji's voice sounded like he’d swallowed gravel.
Despite the dark, Zoro could tell the cook had thrown his head back, mouth open in a voiceless gasp. His fingers were digging painfully into Zoro's sides, a silent request to not stop the grind of his hips. He wasn’t about to.
"Shit for brains, putting your dirty paws on me,” that foul mouth cursed again when Zoro moved against him more deliberately.
“What? Here?" Smirking, he grabbed the back of the cook’s thigh to inch it up higher for a better angle, squeezing a good handful of his ass while already in the vicinity. The reaction was instantaneous, jarring the bed and the unexpected creak made them both freeze.
When none of the cabin's other occupants rose to complain about the noise, Zoro felt the tension in his shoulders ease.
“This is dangerous,” Sanji said, a little shocked but mostly embarrassed.
“So keep it down.”
“You keep it down,” the cook snarled back immediately as if he’d not just arched up and into Zoro’s thrust wantonly enough to cause the bed to knock against Usopp’s next to them.
“Oh? I know how to stay quiet,” grinning, Zoro grabbed the prissy bastard around the thighs to yank him back into his lap. “Do you?”
“‘Tche, you’re a brute who can’t even spell subtlety,” but Sanji sounded breathless all the same, his voice a fluttery thing between their faces, barely audible and hardly carrying any true reprimand.
The rigid curve of his cock kept poking the meat of Zoro's thigh, seemingly unpertubed by nearly waking the whole crew, leaving a sticky wet trail on Zoro's skin. It told Zoro all he needed to know.
"Mhmm, sure," he gloated. "Let's try subtle, then."
In a prescient move to block any other noises and keep their tryst as much of a secret as was possible on this bloody ship, Zoro blindly grabbed the blanket for cover, creating an intimate cocoon that soon got stuffy with their combined body heat and ragged breathing but at least it would muffle their voices.
“You really wanna go, eh?”
Zoro could hear the provocation well enough without needing to see the smirk he knew was plastered on that arrogant face. Bastard just couldn’t let sleeping dogs lie, now could he? How he found a way around to pin this all on Zoro seemed to be the cook’s speciality, never letting anything go unchallenged for one darn minute.
“You started this. Better finish it properly,” Zoro rumbled darkly, as annoyed as he was aroused.
“Uh huh, yeah,” Sanji replied in a non-committal way that told Zoro he was entirely distracted, pulling him closer with his legs to hurry the meeting of their bodies, though this time he was mindful of the strength behind his own movements; instead of bucking his hips like before, he now rubbed himself up against Zoro in sensually slow grinds, but no less eager for it.
It made the drag of Sanji's cock along his own so much more devastating, and Zoro's blood boiled hot in his veines with want, enough to pick him right up where they had left off.
"Zoro," Sanji groaned when he kissed a path up his neck to one blood-hot ear; and that ragged sound turned into a deep moan the moment Zoro traced the helix with his tongue. Even the added protection of the blanket wouldn’t be able to block out such unguarded noises. Zoro immediately clasped a hand over his mouth, even as his stomach tied itself in knots over it.
He wanted to hear that moan again but not like this, not with everyone else around.
“Shhh, be quiet,” he hushed as a reminder. Under his palm, Sanji’s tongue licked over his callouses as if to say ‘ make me ’, never one to follow advice from Zoro, no matter how sensible.
“You wanna get caught?” Sanji shook his head but even with the lack of light, he could see a challenging spark in his visible eye. Then Sanji licked him again, just to be contrary, and Zoro could have sworn there was a direct line to his dick as that wet tongue danced between the gap of each finger, practically asking for it.
That little shit.
Apparently he would have to keep the cook’s mouth occupied. That suited him well. In fact, he'd thought about it a whole damn lot in the quiet of night, wondering if he'd be allowed on more than one occasion.
Instead of turning his head away when he took his hand off his mouth, Sanji met him straight away, surging into the kiss eagerly like he knew it was coming.
He had expected Sanji to be shy about such things, seeing as he took particular care to be as scathing and condescending as humanly possible towards other guys.
Clearly, he'd been wrong.
Sanji's mouth was soft, already open, allowing himself to be kissed deeply, meeting Zoro beat for beat, like he'd been wanting it too and only waited for an opportunity. Zoro could feel his face grow hot at the complete lack of hesitation.
When Zoro shifted, Sanji moved with him, following his mouth like a moth followed the light, reaching for him almost angrily; drawing him back down until they were so closely entangled the cook's naked stomach pressed up into his own with each shuddery inhale.
"Idiot kelp," Sanji mumbled against his lips, into another kiss. His light beard left a warm tingle across Zoro's chin, a pleasant chafe that only heightened the intimacy of the act.
"Hoge," Zoro whispered back fondly. He felt the sharp sting of teeth as a reward for his cheek. It didn't draw blood, wasn't even enough to hurt, but it drove home the fact that this was real. Not just some hot fantasy cooked up by his sleepy mind to taunt him during his waking hours.
Real.
As real as those fingers digging into the back of his head were, pulling him closer towards the broad swipe of tongue. As real as the taste of toothpaste and sleep and the faintest hint of tobacco.
Zoro indulged as long as he could, sucking Sanji’s plump bottom lip between his teeth and tonguing along the corner of his mouth until Sanji made a pitiful, needy noise. One Zoro had no hope of resisting, his restless hands looking for purchase and finding it in Sanji’s hair.
Zoro experimentally pulled at the soft locks to changed the angle of the kiss, fully prepared for the cook to push him off at any moment.
The action merely earned him a pleased groan so he did it again until a full-body shiver went through Sanji and his knees came up to hug Zoro's waist even tighter, mouth going a little slack.
So that's how it is, huh? First acting all high and lofty, but in truth, he was just as starved for this. The way he kept responding to each tug to his hair was only encouraging Zoro to dare more, to bite below his jaw, at his throat, for the simple pleasure of hearing Sanji keen.
It was god damn addictive. It made him stupidly brave, too, wondering what else he could get away with. Before he knew it, he was coaxing Sanji's mouth open with his thumb but instead of the sharp nip of teeth, those soft lips parted for him without prompting, letting him feel the wet heat inside.
When Sanji mumbled his name in a near desperate whimper around the two blunt fingers Zoro had shoved in right after, he realised he could never go back to what they had before. Not that he wanted to, now that he knew what kissing that insufferable prick felt like. What his tongue felt like, licking over the pad of his fingers, lips closed around his knuckles like a seal. The sensation went straight to his dick, throbbing in synch with each dirty suck that left nothing to the imagination. Trust the damn cook to have a fucking oral kink.
Really should have done this sooner, Zoro thought through the hazy fog of lust and he pulled his fingers out to kiss him again.
Jerking each other off while turned half away had been sterile and cold compared to this hot, sweaty intimacy of Sanji underneath him, gasping into his open mouth with each languorous roll of Zoro's hips. There was no way he could stifle his own groan any longer, didn’t care enough either with Sanji arching up to meet him in familiar anticipation of each other’s moves.
Before long, they built up a rhythm, slow so as to not jostle the bed too much again but with enough drive to bring some relief. And just as potent, leaving Zoro dizzy and burning for more. More of Sanji, of his kisses, the small noises he made and which Zoro swallowed straight from his tongue.
But as hot as it was, the friction was starting to chafe and Zoro stopped long enough to free one hand from Sanji’s hair to reach underneath the pillow. He remembered he’d left a small tub of sword oil in his bed the other night, probably shouldn’t have because it tended to stain the sheets, but eh , not his problem. He found the little bottle in the far corner after some graceless fumble and patting around the mattress.
“What are you doing, shitty moss ball?” Sanji asked, but his voice did not hold the usual sneer, sounding more raspy and desperate than he probably realised and only letting go of him so Zoro could sit up.
“You’ll see,” Zoro murmured back and capped the bottle again after pouring a generous amount onto his palm. Then he reached down to wrap an oily fist around them both.
For a hot second, Zoro forgot how to breathe. Sanji’s cock felt divine, velveteen steel that rubbed against his own unfettered. Under his fingertips, he could feel the faint drum of his pulse, the soft give of skin near the head.
Oh fuck, he thought with a bitten-off moan which Sanji matched with a heated curse of his own.
Lowering himself back down on his lower arm, he adjusted his grip so he could rub his thumb over the moisture gathering at the flushed heads, slicking the way for his palm even more. He set an indulgent pace that Sanji’s hips matched in small, undulating motions; a clear indication that he needed it just as badly and Zoro had to bury his flushed face in the cook’s neck, hoping to calm his thundering heart before he embarrassed himself too soon.
A mistake, as he realised a few seconds later with his nose full of Sanji’s scent. The bendy bastard pulled Zoro further in with his hands, whole body shivering just so as he bucked up, fucking into the tight space between their stomachs and Zoro’s fist. He even had the nerve to say Zoro’s name in that voice when Zoro gave a long, slow stroke from base to tip and Zoro could feel his control slip.
"You're so hot," Zoro blurted out in the heat of the moment despite his better judgement. “It’s driving me crazy.”
Sanji merely groaned and Zoro’s stomach clenched with a heady flutter at the sound. “Don’t say stuff like that. ‘M too close for that.”
“What, from a little sweet-talk? You’re too easy, shit-cook.” But his own voice wavered too. “Want me to make you come?”
“Mhm, fuck,” Sanji cursed softly, the rough baritone dripping with want, and his own hand reached for Zoro’s, wrapping his long fingers around him in encouragement.
“Can I?” he prompted, insistently, because he needed to hear it.
“Yeah," Sanji moaned into Zoro’s shoulder, too far gone to care about anything but his own lust, probably biting his own bottom lip from how good it felt. That mental image alone caused heat to crawl up Zoro's face, spreading all the way to his hairline, to the tips of his fingers.
When he squeezed them both again, Sanji's muscular thighs started shaking where they were bracketing Zoro’s own. Under any other circumstances he'd be worried about their strength but not now. Now he wanted them to hug him tighter, to punch the air right out of his lungs. Grabbing a good handfull of the cook's ass cheek, Zoro drew him even closer into the slicked-up movement of his fist. Slow, at first, the blood rushing between his ears as he focused on the heat between them, the way they fit just right. How Sanji's muscles tensed in his sure grip with each drag over the sensitive head.
"Lemme fuck you," he rasped against Sanji's temple once the sensation of his own calloused palm became too much. His orgasm was approaching fast, threatening to pull him under and leaving his thoughts a jumbled mess. "Wanna do you so bad."
"Oh god, yeah, fuck—" Sanji rocked up into the movement of his hand, his own fingers digging into the meat of Zoro’s lower back, slipping on the sweat gathering there. It took two, three tight fisted strokes until he felt the cook fall apart beneath him with a hoarse cry that he’d muffled against Zoro’s neck just in time.
The cook was practically vibrating, trembling with the echoes of his orgasm as he spilled between them in thick spurts, hitting even Zoro’s throat. It was slick and dirty enough that it sent Zoro over the edge and into that blissfully white void right after the cook. He had only the barest minimum of awareness to ensure he didn’t rock the bed too much with the fervent drive of his own hips as he came.
It was... intense. His whole body seized up with it for what felt like an eternity, muting sound and thoughts. He was distantly aware of the low rumble in his own chest, their labored breath under the stuffy covers, the way both their cum dripped down his knuckles.
His own dick pulsed pleasantly with the last slow strokes of his hand, adding to the mess on their stomachs. Some of it trickled down their sides, soaking into the bedding though most of it stuck to their skin, glueing them further together with each ragged breath.
His limbs tingled pleasantly and feeling returned to them in increments as he came down from his high. Stars continued to dance in his vision, flickering behind his tightly shut eyelids in small bursts. With deliberate care, he unclenched his jaw from where he’d ground down on his molars to keep his own moan of completion at bay, so much that the joint ached and gave a crack with the movement.
Shit, he'd really needed that.
Once he pulled his hand away from where the cook’s softening dick was slipping out of his grip, Sanji seemed to regain his faculties too, for his legs loosened their vice-like hold around Zoro’s waist and then sprawled wide open shamelessly. As his fingers eased their tight grip on his lower back, Zoro could feel the burn of scratch marks coming in contact with his own sweat. He did not entirely dislike it.
“Damn,” Sanji whispered at last, voice thick and nearly unrecognizable but gratified. His limbs were still twitching with aftershocks, his face hidden in the crook of Zoro’s shoulder.
“Yeah,” Zoro agreed, and mirrored the cook by dropping his own forehead into the damp space where neck met bony shoulder, enjoying the closeness.
Once his heart had finally stopped its wild beating against his ribcage like some war drum, the familiar exhaustion of a good fuck set in and he had neither the energy nor motivation to fight it. Nuzzling into the cook's neck, he sighed contendedly as sleep crept up on him and his eye lids grew heavy.
“Oi, asshole. Are you seriously falling asleep on me right now?” Sanji asked him after what felt like an hour of absolute tranquility. Despite the crude words, there were fingers in his hair, stroking languidly through the spiky strands, massaging even the back of his neck. At some point, Sanji must have moved the blanket down enough to reveal their faces to the fresh air. It felt like a balm on his overheated skin.
“Mhm.”
“At least clean up, you filthy animal.”
“Later, curlicue,” he murmured back. No way was he gonna move right now. And Sanji wasn’t either, if he had anything to say about it, curling his arms around the lean body underneath him, regardless of the drying spunk between them.
“Stay.” Shifting around, he found the perfect position to hold the guy and fall asleep comfortably at the same time. There wasn’t much struggle from Sanji, so maybe he didn’t mind so much after all, sapped of his strength the same way Zoro was.
“Alright,” the cook sighed in defeat and his shoulder relaxed underneath Zoro's cheek. “I’ll stay.”
~*~
When Zoro awoke the next day, there was no sign of Sanji. Or anyone in the cabin, for that matter, as it was midday already and he’d slept right through breakfast and only managed to make it in time for lunch (earning himself a kick to the head for being so lazy and negligent about his nutrition, but at least he was showered and not such a god-awful stinking caveman anymore).
Zoro had already figured it would go like that anyway: The cook always needed some cooling off after anything remotely intimate. Zoro had no delusions that messing a little around would affect the curly freak’s affection or even soften his attitude towards Zoro in general. Quite the opposite, in fact. The cook was probably even meaner than he had been before, starting fights for no reason other than that Zoro’s presence was putting him on edge and he hated seeing his ugly mug anywhere near the galley outside of mealtimes.
But Zoro could be patient, the bastard would calm down sooner or later and it wasn’t even a whole week until Sanji's voice pierced the drowsy fog again, shortly after midnight. Zoro hadn’t been fully asleep yet, following half-formed threads of thoughts, listening for that creak in floorboards that meant someone had gotten out of bed.
"Hey marimo,” the cook drawled and Zoro cracked one eye open to see Sanji leaning against the bed frame casually. “There's a spider in my bed."
Zoro opened his other eye too and rolled onto his side to regard him.
"’s that right?” he murmured, lifting a corner of his blanket for the cook to climb in. Even in the dark, Zoro could tell there was a pleased smirk spreading over that idiot's face.
"Yeah, sure, it’s massive," Sanji didn't even bother to sound scared and wriggled into Zoro’s arms without hesitation. He had forgone wearing anything to bed this time and Zoro allowed himself the indulgence of smoothing his hand down Sanji’s toned back to settle possessively on one bare ass cheek. It was tight enough and small enough to fit right into his palm.
“Want me to protect you from the big bad bug?" he murmured into the cook’s ear and didn’t miss the way Sanji shivered at the action.
“If you could be so kind and spare a moment to help a friend in his time of need,” the words came soft, half-teasing and they tugged at Zoro’s insides just right.
“Please,” Sanji added, a breathy moan that brushed Zoro’s mouth as he leant in and Zoro dutifully nodded into the kiss. Of course. Anything for a nakama. He was one of the good guys, after all.
E P I L O G U E
“I meant to talk to you, Zoro,” Chopper said the next day while sitting on his back as he did push ups. Until now, he’d just been swinging his little legs and looking up into the sky like he’d been contemplating a great medical mystery, lost in his own little world just like Zoro.
“Mhm,” Zoro frowned, half-distracted. He did not want to start over with counting. Shaking his head to clear the sweat dripping down his nose like a dog, he pushed up again. Two thousand and three. Two thousand and four.
Today was a good day, sunny with a few clouds, warm but not too hot, exceptional weather on the Grand Line and he didn't want to waste it inside.
Near the helm, he could hear Luffy and Usopp laughing loudly, their guffawing carrying over on the wind like a chime. The clanks and bangs of pots in the galley left him with a pleasantly buzzing feeling in the pit of his stomach, knowing the cook was preparing individual snacks for them. Life couldn't be better, really.
“The infirmary is always open if you should, you know, need a bed,” Chopper continued, a careful tone to his words.
“What,” he stopped abruptly, squinting over his shoulder at the little reindeer.
“Ah! I mean— I mean, not that it’s any of my business but, uh, maybe privacy would be the proper thing… for you. And Sanji. For next time.”
Blinking slowly, he stared at Chopper, the cogs turning in his head. Only marginally, he was aware of the heat crawling up his face.
“A-anyway, I think it’s good that you and Sanji get along better.” Chopper kept scratching the back of his head, then clapping his hooves together nervously, avoiding eye-contact all the while. His little blue nose twitched, even.
Shit.
“Who else,” Zoro said through grit teeth and slowly eased out of his stance. The little reindeer rolled off his back elegantly and hopped onto one leg, then the next, clearly uncomfortable with the entire conversation he had started. Which was an understatement. Zoro really wished a Sea King would attack them right now so he did not have to talk about this.
“I am happy that Zoro and Sanji are such healthy, virile young men,” Chopper stalled.
“Chopper,” he ground out and reached for his discarded shirt on the deck. He could feel several pairs of eyes digging into his back from across the galley and the mikan grove, likely attracted by Chopper’s little dance of embarrassment.
“Aahahah, I-I-I am sure the others slept through your… but I have very sensitive ears and I… but maybe Usopp. And Brook,” Chopper finished with a hiccup, the glare Zoro sent him was too intense for him to withstand at the best of times and he looked down at his hooves in shame. “I thought I should tell you.”
Fuck. If Usopp knew and Brook knew, then the whole crew knew. He was screwed, so so screwed.
Closing his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose and counted to ten. No point in getting angry at the little reindeer, it was his own damn fault after all. And oh, how Sanji would make sure he knew just how much he was to blame for. He could already imagine the price he’d have to pay for the cook’s damaged reputation as a straight lady’s man.
“MARIMOOOOO, YOU PIECE OF ABSOLUTE SHIT,” a smoke-rough voice yelled from across the ship, just as the shadow of a long long leg came flying for his face not a moment later.
Yep, right on schedule.