Work Text:
1.
Zoro doesn’t bother to open her eyes when her arm is shaken. She takes a deep, sleep-ridden breath, and she lifts the covers to allow whichever one of her crewmates it is to crawl into her bed. A little grunt accompanies a newfound weight, and then a small body is curling up at her stomach. She shifts backwards to give him more room.
“G’night…” she mumbles. She rests her hand over his face, feeling his features as if his size and his fur hadn’t already given him away, and then pinches his wet nose between her knuckles as he giggles. “Chopper.”
“G’night, Zoro,” Chopper whispers back.
Sanji doesn't come to all at once. The bed sways hard enough to rouse him, but not enough to make him alert. The blanket of sleep over his mind tells him that it's just a storm, a big wave, nothing to worry over.
And then Zoro is pressing back against his front. It’s not much, barely enough to even be considered a grind, but it’s just enough that the friction of her ass against his groin has his little chef quick to wake.
Well. He's here. Might as well.
His thumb rubs up and down over her hip bone, his hand already tucked securely into the waistband of her underwear. His fingers pet over the line of wiry hair descending from her belly. He’s steadily growing harder in his boxers, nestled so nicely where the curve of her ass meets her thighs. He takes a steadying breath in the space between her shoulder blades. He drowns himself in her smell, nosing at her nape. He thinks of how lovely it would be to fuck her thighs: the twitch of her muscles around him, the drag of his cock over her skin, and how the path would be eased by sweat and her slick arousal as she grows wet for him, always so wet for him.
He wonders if he’d be able to make her beg – he hasn’t yet, but maybe he will when he can manage to restrain himself from heeding her every request.
Sanji bites his lip to hold in a whimper. He squeezes his own thighs together to keep from rutting against her. He kisses the back of her neck, grazing his lips up behind her ear, hoping to wake her as gently as possible. She lets out a little grunt, and he hums, his breath ruffling the hair near her temple, nudging her underwear down to get his point across, and Zoro drives her elbow backwards.
Sanji hisses; Zoro gives him no sympathy. He tucks his chin over her shoulder with a pouting lower lip. Her sleepy, irritated eyes meet his before they jerk downwards.
Downwards, where Chopper is tucked to Zoro’s chest with his head resting on her bicep, sound asleep.
Sanji’s lips pull into a grimace. Zoro reaches up to flick him in the forehead. He sucks his teeth and nips at her jaw, then kisses over it. She cranes her neck just enough to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. He grumbles and squeezes her hip. This isn’t the first time that Zoro’s unspoken duty of being the crew’s post-nightmare teddy bear has gotten in his way, and he knows it won’t be the last.
That doesn’t mean that his dick isn’t still fucking hard, or that it’s going to be easy to get it to calm down when Zoro’s body stays pressed flush against his.
2.
When Sanji eats Zoro out, she doesn’t know who enjoys it more. She doesn’t know if it’s her, grabbing onto the support beams on the bunk above her head, thighs shaking, mouth pressed to her shoulder to quiet the moans pulled out of her chest with every delicious curl of his tongue. Or if it’s Sanji, one hand on her thigh to keep her secure where she straddles his face, his eyes closed and eyebrows high, jerking himself off with a cock so wet with precome she can hear it over them both.
Sanji is obscene beneath her, eating her like a man possessed. His lips are closed around her clit, and the way he's sucking her off and running his tongue over it at the same time is making her back bend and curl in on itself. It won't be long until she comes – not like that matters at all. Sanji keeps her seated on his face until he’s had his fill or until Zoro can’t take any more, and so far all attempts to outlast him have left her lightheaded, sore, and still first to call it quits.
He lets up on her clit just to start fucking her with his tongue again. For a moment, she thinks she’s going to have time to take a breath. Then his hand comes around to rub tight circles on that oversensitive nub in time with the slick noises coming from the hand on his cock, and Zoro has to bite her own arm to keep quiet. Her entire body is tingling. Her gut is wound tight like a crank toy, ready to burst at any moment.
She grinds down on his tongue, and Sanji’s muffled moan reverberates through her entire body. Her jaw drops, her hips fuck forwards again, and his long eyelashes flutter so pretty over his flushed cheeks that she has to white knuckle the bunk above her or risk falling completely.
“J– ah, fuck, Cook,” she slurs against her arm, her toes curling, “just like that, s’good, fuck, fuck–”
She could come like this, just a little more, just a little longer, she’s so close–
The door to the girl’s bunk slams against the wall.
All at once, Sanji is screaming, Zoro is screaming, and her vision becomes a flurry of movement as Zoro lurches off Sanji’s face and the bed dumps her onto the floor. She lands on her elbow and the back of her skull. Her entire world is shrouded in white as Sanji throws a bed sheet over her naked body.
“Luffy! What the hell is wrong with you!?” Sanji shouts, and Zoro yanks the bed sheet from her head to better see the culprit. She tucks the sheet under her arms. On the bed, Sanji holds a pillow tight to his lap. He’s glistening from his mouth down to the base of his neck, and Zoro holds no shame in the pulse of arousal that throbs in her despite the situation at hand.
Which,
“We’re a little fucking busy, Luffy,” Zoro says through her teeth. Luffy clicks his tongue and rests his hands on his hips.
“Yeah, I know! You’ve been in here forever!” They snuck off fifteen minutes ago, maybe. “How much longer are you gonna be? It’s past snack time already!”
Sanji bends at the waist to peek out from the bunk and search for a clock that doesn’t exist on one of the walls.
“Is it?”
Zoro deflates.
She lets herself fall backward onto the hardwood floor as Sanji reaches for his clothes in a hurry. So much for getting off. She swears to herself that in their next sparring session, she’s bringing Luffy as close to death as she was to the orgasm that he took from her.
“Sorry, Luffy, I– I must’ve lost track of time, let me– I’ll–” He shakes his hand to get his arm through the twisted sleeve of his button up. “I’ll just be a second.”
Luffy, his anger completely abated with the promise of food, beams. He stands at the open doorway, unmoving.
“Great! Usopp and I caught this huge fish, and it’s shaped all weird too. It’s got a face like a fox but eyes like a snake. It’s this big.” He stretches his arms out to half the size of the room. Zoro motions to Sanji for her underwear, and he searches for them in the bed before he tosses them her way. She gracelessly rucks them up her legs. “Do you know what kind of fish that is, Sanji? Can we eat it? Would it taste good with ponzu, because I’m in the mood for
3.
Warm light bleeds out of the galley’s portholes. It’s the only light on in the Sunny - save for the light from the crow’s nest. Everyone should be asleep. Everyone except for Zoro, who should be on watch, and Sanji, in the galley with his back to the window.
She makes no attempt to sneak. She enters loudly and shuts the door behind her with a click that rings through the room. Sanji’s body tenses. His head turns in the direction of the door just a fraction. Seeing Zoro, his shoulders loosen.
“Shouldn’t you be in the crow’s nest?” He asks, one side of his mouth curled up in an easy smile.
“Shouldn’t you be in bed?” She asks in return.
Sanji taps the edge of a mixing bowl with two of his fingers.
“This has to marinate overnight, or it’ll be tough.”
Zoro hums. She skates her fingers over the dining table as she crosses the room. She wanders around the bar and into the kitchen, like the man there isn’t her destination.
“What is it?” She doesn’t really care what it is. But Sanji smiles as he shows her the massive bowl of pink meat and the tan marinade it sits in, and that's what she really wants.
“The last of that fish Luffy caught.”
Zoro comes to a stop behind Sanji. Her arms bracket around his slight waist, and she leans forward to brace her hands on the counter and press her front to Sanji’s back all at once. She rests her cheek on his shoulder. He turns his head to brush his nose against hers.
“What part?”
“The back end of the tail. Can I help you?”
“You already are,” she answers, and leans closer to touch her lips feather light to the side of his neck. His hands pause where they’re at, wrist deep in raw fish and sauce.
“Mosshead,” he says, a warning. Zoro presses another kiss overtop the last, open mouthed this time. She hums in question. “Zoro, I’m in the middle of something.”
“I see that.” She traces her fingers down from his hip to the top of his thigh. On her way back up, she tucks her fingers into his belt and tugs him closer. He shivers against her front. Another kiss, and he tilts his head to the side to expose more of his neck. She nips at the sensitive skin there, hard enough to leave a red mark behind but not enough to bruise later, and Sanji sighs through his nose.
“W– I can’t exactly…” He raises his muck covered hands. She grins and kisses the corner of his jaw.
“You don’t have to do anything,” she says. She smooths both hands up his sides, and then down his stomach. She taps her fingers on his belt buckle. “Just keep standing there looking pretty.”
Sanji lets out a shaky breath. He white knuckles the edge of the bowl as Zoro scrapes her teeth over his skin.
“Okay,” is the answer.
Zoro hums and lets her hand dip low enough to feel over the tent in his slacks. He’s already hard. It doesn’t take much, the horny bastard, and she can’t help but grin into his neck as a little whine is smothered by his lips when she palms at his length. She gives him a light squeeze. The cabinet below them smacks against itself when Sanji’s knee hits it. His hips twitch. Without freeing him from the confines of the fabric, Zoro bumps him forward with her hips to encourage him to rut into her hand. He follows her lead with a delicate little noise rising from his throat.
“There’s a good boy,” she mutters behind his ear.
That gets her a full blown whimper. She lets her brow come to rest on the back of his head, groaning, the hand that’s not on his cock tightening like a vice on his hip. His ass grinds against her with each movement. It doesn’t really stimulate her at all, but something about it pings in the back of her mind. Sanji’s back pressed against her chest, pushing his hips back on hers, whining like…
Like she’s fucking him.
Is this how it feels, when he fucks her?
Zoro rocks forward again. Her knuckles hit the counter, it knocks a moan out of him. It’s hot, it’s sexy, and for a second her mind conjures the image of really getting to give it to him. Bending him over the counter and fucking him, somehow, somehow, getting to really know how it feels when
She shoos the thought away before it can properly attach itself. That’s not… possible. Zoro can’t, and even if she could, Sanji would never allow it. All that talk about never hurting a woman be damned, bringing it up would earn her a kick in the head.
She distracts herself from the line of thought by unbuckling his belt and getting his pants open, trying to forget how the thought of Sanji fucked into and gasping is making her dizzy. She pulls down his underwear just enough to free his cock and balls, and for the time being that’s enough to keep her mind on other things. He’s flushed and completely rigid under her hand, and nice and slick where her thumb circles the tip. She gives a long, tight stroke down his length. He chokes out a moan, his knees give, and then she’s pushing him up against the edge of the counter to keep him steady.
He falls forward onto his elbows, pushing the bowl forward so he doesn’t sink face first into it when he hangs his head, and Zoro is so turned on her cunt is aching. She doesn’t know what to do, she wants to fuck him, she wants to, wants to, wants to–
She drapes herself over his back and bites down on his nape. His whine is wrung out of him like a threadbare cloth. He’s squeezed between Zoro and the counter, and she’s taking full advantage of the opportunity to stroke him mercilessly, his precome smearing over her fingers.
“Znh-Zoro,” he whines, his shoulders working as he arches his back and pushes against her groin.
“Oh my.”
They stiffen. Zoro yanks a kitchen towel from where it hangs on the oven handle and covers where Sanji is exposed. She turns to face the intruder, hiding Sanji behind her back like a guilty child.
Robin stands in the doorway, paused mid step. She snaps her book closed and tucks it under her arm. She’s already turning to leave.
“I apologize. I’ll come back later.”
“W– uh, wait,” Sanji squeaks from behind her, peeking from around his forearm. Zoro gets into a staring contest with the wall. “What’d you need, Robin?”
“I was going to make myself some coffee, but… it’s not dire. I’m plenty capable of waiting for you two to, er, finish up.” There’s a grin in her voice. “Have fun.”
The door clicks shut. They breathe sighs of relief, but Sanji is still stiff when Zoro drops her head between his shoulder blades. She kisses his back. His body heat radiates through his shirt.
“Make the coffee,” she grumbles, and carefully tucks him back into his pants. He's already soft. Sanji looks up at her over his shoulder. Her hand squeezes his hip without permission.
“What?”
“I know you want to,” she says. She licks her fingers clean before she dries her hand off on the kitchen towel. “Go on. S’not gonna be any fun if you’re distracted, anyways.”
He turns so that his back faces the counter. His cheeks are mottled red, his eye is cloudy and filled with something so gentle that it makes Zoro shift her weight between her feet and buckle his belt for him just to have something else to look at. He touches a chaste kiss to her cheek.
“You’re so sweet,” he tells her, grinning into another little kiss upon her skin. Zoro sucks her teeth, pulling away before he can feel how much her face is heating.
“Make the damn coffee.”
4.
Red wine, honey, rosemary, garlic. Sanji taps the end of his pen to his lips. It needs something. Lemon… boring. Vinegar… too abrasive. His foot flicks from where it rests atop his knee. Strawberry? Is that too much? Too daring?
No. No such thing.
He jots it down, but adds a little question mark next to it. It might butt heads with the herbs and tanins, but it could serve to brighten without fighting for center stage on the palate. Served as a reduction over grilled squid… he might be onto something. He writes that down too, with pairing? in parentheses.
Sanji sets his journal down on his chest and turns his head to watch Zoro train. She’s doing some kind of handstand pushup. She holds a barbell laden with weight in her mouth. She lowers herself at an agonizing slow pace until her chest meets the top of the crate, then raises herself just as calmly. Her veins crawl over the backs of her hands. Sweat rolls down her jaw and drips off of her chin. She’s been at it for as long as Sanji has been up in the crow’s nest with her, and the only sign she’s fatigued at all is the little shake in her body.
She pauses at the bottom of a rep. She takes a deep breath, her eyes fall shut, and she pushes up until her arms are fully extended, shivering the entire way.
The barbell hits the ground with an ear ringing clang. Zoro lowers herself to lay her stomach over the crate, finally allowing her breaths to become labored. Her hair is dark and dripping.
“How many was that?” Sanji asks.
“Five hundred and sixty-three,” she answers, reaching for her shirt on the floor to mop up some of her sweat. Sanji clicks his tongue.
“You’ve got one more,” he says.
Zoro looks up at him with dark eyes. The fatigue makes it as if she’s glaring at him, and something about it sends a little thrill up his spine.
“That was my one more,” she says. Knowing her, there were sixty-three one more’s, but who’s counting, really?
“And I think you’ve got another one in you. If you disagree, that’s fine.” He shrugs, and looks at her impishly through his eyelashes. “It’s alright if you can’t do it.”
Zoro tosses her shirt back onto the ground, frowning back at him. She pushes up onto her knees on the crate.
“I can.”
She’s too easy. She reaches for the barbell, grumbling can’t do it, i can do it, fuck off, and takes it between her teeth once more.
Zoro balances on her hands and lowers herself. She’s shaking a little even now, but she doesn’t let the exhaustion get the best of her. She furrows her brow and rises, face and chest red. Sanji bites the corner of his journal when she gets stuck halfway up, her triceps tensed and bulging. She grunts as she gives one sharp push to make it to the top of the rep. She breathes hard through her nose, truly glaring up at him, a little line of drool stretching down from her lips.
Sanji fidgets with his pocket to adjust himself in his pants as subtly as possible.
She drops the barbell again.
“Happy?”
“See?” He asks, his voice lilting up an octave despite his efforts. “I told you you could do it.”
Zoro tucks her knees to her chest and twists to let her legs swing between her arms. She extends her legs and lands cat-like on her feet.
“Uh-huh,” she says. She stalks across the short distance to his side. She braces one arm on the back of the bench to lean over him. He bites his lip.
For most of his life, Sanji has chased after women. Fantasized over women. Adored women. Sanji knows desire like he knows bouillabaisse.
And yet, somehow, Zoro ignites a lust within him that he didn’t think was possible.
He’s never met anyone who makes his blood course through his veins with so little attention. He’s never wanted so badly to taste the sweat that glistens on someone’s neck, her shoulders, her belly. He craves her, craves the way her flesh tenses and relaxes under his touch, the way her whines splinter when she's about to come, the look in her eyes when she holds him down. Sanji is well and truly obsessed.
“C’mere,” he breathes, and reaches out to hook his hand behind her knee. She lets herself be moved until she’s straddling his waist, kneeling on either side of him. He feels up her thigh, slides his palm up her sweaty side. He tucks his first two fingers into the damp band of her bra, at the front between her breasts, and tugs her down as he pushes up onto his elbow. She meets him in the middle with a beaming smile.
Kissing her, too, is unlike anything he’s yet to experience, and Sanji already liked kissing. She cradles the back of his head as she deepens it, holding him in place, incapable of having less control than him. There always has to be a struggle for who gets to be in charge. It drives him fucking nuts.
Sanji leans up further to throw her just enough off balance that she has to grab his shoulder, and he snatches the millisecond of control while he still has it. He holds her in place with a hand on her ass and pulls her down against a slow roll of his hips. If the flutter of her eyelashes isn’t indication enough that she feels exactly how hard he is, then the sharp breath she takes certainly is.
He drags his lips across her cheek to the corner of Zoro’s jaw, mouthing down her neck, salt washing over his tongue. Her wet hair tickles the bridge of his nose. He kisses the top of the scar on her chest, abandons all decorum in favor of his desire, and pulls the straps of her bra down her arms until they’re draped over her elbows and he can lick that scar up from her sternum to her collar. He sucks little marks back down, groaning when her hands find his hair again and tug.
He moans into her breasts, nostrils already tickling, his lips finding the last mark he left to create another right beside it. He brushes his thumb over a hardened nipple, muttering, “thank you, thank you, so perfect, you’re so perfect,” under his breath between every kiss across the supple flesh.
Zoro is positively writhing in his lap by the time he gets his mouth on her nipple, biting her lip to hold in all the pretty noises that threaten to spill out. The friction of his zipper is hell on his dick, but there’s a goddess on top of him, and she’s letting him touch her, and it can grind to dust for all he cares as long as it means she’s going to stay exactly where she is.
She buries her face in his hair and pulls him closer with her arms bracketing his head. Sanji says a blissful farewell to his breathing, eyes rolling back into his skull as his chest starts to burn. He wouldn’t mind dying here, smothered by his reason to live. Right now it’s the only honorable way he can think to go.
The lack of air in his lungs makes his moan come out as more of a whine. He ruts up into the space between Zoro’s legs, damning the clothing between them. He needs to fuck her yesterday; he needs to be inside her like he needs to breathe. He starts pulling at her waistband until Zoro gets the message and reaches down to unbutton her pants one handed, kissing his temple. She braces her weight on the back of the bench and raises her hips off of his, just enough for him to start dragging down her haramaki, pants, and underwear.
He gets her pants halfway down her thighs before it hits him that she’s still wearing her boots. Zoro starts yanking at the laces of one, Sanji tackles the other. She’s still hanging on to the bench as she pulls her boot off her foot and tosses it, and for a moment Sanji watches her, committing her to memory: her flushed cheeks, her bra pulled low under her love-bitten, blood smeared breasts with the straps hanging uselessly over her arms, clad in one boot, and her pants down around her knees. It’s a little ridiculous looking, frankly, and it’s the most erotic thing he’s ever seen.
“Zoro,” he says, and cups her jaw to bring her attention back to himself. She smiles at him, soft and gentle, and leans into his space to bump her head to his.
Shave and a haircut.
They pause, both of their gazes sliding to the trapdoor of the crow’s nest. They have enough time to get Zoro’s pants up around her hips before it’s opening and Usopp is peeking up, a hand over his own eyes.
“Hi,” he greets sweetly, grinning wide. “World’s cutest sniper here.”
“Get out,” they say at the same time. Usopp tuts and leans back against the opening. The trapdoor swings, falls, and slams onto the floor.
“Are you sure you want me to leave–
“Yes–”
“Because the news coo just brought us something interesting.”
Usopp raises an envelope. It’s blue, and closed with a wax seal. Sanji leans to the side and squints. It looks an awful lot like the Nefertari family seal. It is the Nefertari family seal. His jaw drops.
“Vivi?” He asks. Zoro tenses above him. Usopp flips the envelope over end to show them the back.
“It’s addressed to Nami,” he tells them, excitement woven into his tone even as he attempts to seem aloof.
“Does she know?” Zoro asks. She’s hurriedly adjusting her bra over her shoulders. Sanji straightens her haramaki for her, eyes still on Usopp.
“Not yet. Thought we should all be there. Y’know, for emotional support.”
Zoro swings her leg over and off Sanji no later than when the words not yet leave Usopp’s mouth, rushing to the trapdoor in the awkward gait that wearing one shoe supplies. Sanji is quick to follow. He grabs her boot off the ground.
Usopp drops out of sight, sliding down the ladder, hollering across all of the Sunny, “Nami! Mail for you!”
5.
Sanji pushes the door to the boys’ bunk closed with his heel, but he doesn’t look back to see if it actually shuts. He keeps his attention on her, pressing kiss after kiss to her lips, letting her guide him with her fingers hooked into his pockets.
It doesn’t even matter if it shuts or not. For the first time in weeks, they’re actually alone. Everyone else is on the abandoned rig they came upon, quiet and rusting in the middle of the ocean. Zoro and Sanji are keeping watch.
Well.
They stayed behind. They’re not watching much of anything.
Zoro walks backwards until her legs meet Sanji’s bed. She sits, drags Sanji down with her by his tie, and though he follows he doesn’t settle, opting to kiss his way down her body instead. He holds onto her sides as he drags kisses over her chest, giving her breast a teasing nip through the layers of her clothing, and continues his way down her belly and between her spread legs.
He doesn’t take her fucking pants off, ignoring the way she jabs at his ribs with her knee and the frustrated grunt she gives him in favor of pressing his tongue in a firm line over her crotch. He breathes in deep; his nose nudges her clit just enough to be maddening. She curls her fingers at the base of his skull and cants her hips up into his face, but he tilts his head to shrug off her hand and carries on with his teasing bullshit. He bites at the junction of her hip and thigh.
Zoro groans and falls onto her back. She’s stuck on this ride, now, steadily soaking her underwear while he mouths at her inseam.
He kisses down her calf, and when he gets to the top of her boot he stops. He holds her foot by the heel. His thumb presses against her achilles. She props herself up on an elbow, curious. Sanji stares up at her from his place at her feet.
Maintaining eye contact, Sanji bows his head, takes her bootlace between his teeth, and pulls back until the knot comes free.
The shock of arousal that courses through her is as far from an orgasm as a stab in the chest, but it’s no less intense than either. It’s so white hot and heady that she almost doesn’t notice the drawn out moan that it pulls out of her chest. She takes fistfuls of the sheets below her to steady herself.
And there’s Sanji, his eye shining, grinning like the cat that caught the canary.
“Shut up.” Her demand falls flat at the croak in her voice. Sanji pushes up her pant leg to kiss her bare skin.
“I haven’t said anything,” he says. Zoro draws her knee back so she can touch the toe of her boot under his chin. He keeps smiling even as she tilts his head up with it. He lets his head rest entirely on the top of her boot, his eye going a little out of focus as he sighs through his nose.
Zoro could have her arm ripped off and she still wouldn’t admit that the sight makes her whimper.
“Take it off,” she orders, letting his head drop a fraction to shake him from his reverie. He does, and lets the shoe drop to the floor by his knees. Sanji peels her sock from her foot and ducks his head to kiss the scar on her ankle. She taps the side of her other boot to his shoulder. “That one, too.” The process repeats, the laces pulled apart by his teeth and her ankle kissed.
When Sanji finally rises, it’s to pull her haramaki down her legs. He kisses the space below her navel where her haramaki used to sit, then pushes her shirt up her belly and kisses the same spot again.
“Cook, what’re you doing?” She huffs, and lifts her hips up to allow him to slide her pants down. Just her pants. He nibbles a bruise into her inner thigh, close enough that she can feel his breath ghost over her underwear.
“Don’t pretend like you don’t know what foreplay is, Mosshead.” Sanji kisses over the mark he leaves and moves ever closer to the junction of her hip to leave yet another, this time pulling her leg against his mouth.
She doesn’t bother to point out the obvious differences between their usual excuse for foreplay and whatever this is. It’s odd, this almost servile act he’s putting on. Not bad, the throbbing in her gut proves as much, but strange. Zoro can’t imagine what he’s getting out of it.
Instead, she voices a real concern, “Just… hurry up; they’re gonna be back any time now.”
Sanji kisses up her hip, completely passing over where she craves him most, and, oh — she understands, now. He wants her to murder him.
She threads her fingers through his hair and pulls his head back. He looks up at her, eyes half lidded, tongue peeking out from between his lips.
“We have ages before they come back. Hours at least, maybe until tonight.” He gives her a winning smile. He smooths his hands up her thighs, moves up to grip her hips and pulls her ever closer. “C’mon. Indulge me.”
Zoro glances at the door. Sanji made everyone bentos before they left, so no one is going to come back for lunch. The rig is abandoned. The crew couldn’t possibly get themselves into any trouble that they’ll need help getting out of.
Zoro and Sanji’s duties to the crew are, temporarily, obsolete.
They have time.
She slackens her grip on his hair just enough to pet through it. His hands move ever higher, slipping under her shirt to fondle her breasts through her bra.
“Alright,” she acquiesces, and he hums with delight as he eases her back into the mattress. Sanji is a heavy, comforting weight on top of her, arms tight around her in a kind of hug. She sighs at the kiss he lays upon her neck, the subtle scrape of his teeth on her collarbone. Zoro slides her palm over his back and around his side, crinkling her nose at the feel of warm cotton rather than his skin.
Zoro slips her finger under the knot of his tie, aiming to tug it loose, before she stops herself. She clamps her hand around the knot to keep it tight.
“Cook,” she says. She pushes him back with her fist to the base of his throat. He looks down at her with twinkling excitement striking through his curiosity.
She wants him divested of all these stupid layers, wants to feel his skin on hers now, but something about this foreplay is telling her that it isn’t as wise to strip him herself as it is to order, with her voice as cool and even as she can manage it, “take your clothes off.”
Sanji’s punched out little noise confirms her suspicion.
Zoro leans back on her elbows as he pulls his tie loose. He untucks his shirt from his pants, and then he’s unbuttoning it with long, nimble fingers. His chest is bared to her inch by inch, the ridges of hard muscle, the hair that runs up from his belly to bloom over his pectorals. Her mouth waters like it’s the first time, the same as every time before.
He slips out of his sleeves and gives the shirt a haphazard fold before he tosses it towards the end of the bed. Sanji bends to steal another kiss, but she leans back with a curt ah. She rests the flat of her palm on his chest; she’s only human.
“Pants too. All of it.”
Sanji pouts at her.
“You’ll be more dressed than I am,” he says.
“Who’s fault is that?”
He sighs, and toes off his shoes, and starts unbuckling his belt without further argument. Zoro’s head swims. Sanji is never so… obedient. Eager to please, yes, a bit of a crybaby, often, but he puts up a fight about every-fucking-thing. It’s like a compulsion. He can’t take anything lying down.
Unless he’s in the right mood, apparently.
Zoro bites her lip as he comes to kneel between her legs, completely nude. She can’t even try to hide how his body affects her. Her breath comes a little lighter in her chest, her palms are dry and hot with desire. Sanji’s tan hands rub nervously over the tops of his paler thighs. His cock is full and pink and gorgeous. It bobs when she spreads her legs.
“You’re staring,” he says, and his hands flex as his thumbs dig into his own thighs. His blush spreads down past his collar bones. For being such a perverted little fuck, Sanji can be so shy. It does weird things to her head. It makes her want to get her mouth on him, to make him come, to make him cry.
“Sure am,” she agrees. She jerks her chin upward. “Well?”
Sanji gives her a toothy smile and leans over into her space, the tip of his cock dragging over her thigh in a damp line.
“Can I?” He asks.
She doesn’t even care what he’s asking for. He can have it. Zoro nods.
He pulls her shirt over her head. He kisses her shoulder, her collar, he drags his lips down her breastbone. He doesn’t wait to get her bra off, just cups her breasts in his hands and buries his face in her cleavage.
Zoro rolls her eyes. One track mind, this one. He dips his tongue in, strange in the space between her breasts, but his moan cracks in the back of his throat and it’s so hot that she’s tricked into enjoying it.
She’s panting by the time he finally eases off her tits, skin slick with sweat and spit. She wants him so badly it hurts, and the more unbearable the ache becomes, the more Zoro hates him for the unhurried path he makes down to her groin. When he gets there, he pauses, eye wide as he takes in her ruined underwear. He strokes over the damp fabric with his thumb and nudges at her entrance.
“You’re soaked,” he breathes. Zoro turns her head away, complaint at the ready, but never gets the chance to voice it. Sanji lowers himself to lick her underwear like some kind of depraved freak and any words other than oh fuck completely evaporate. She bites her lip to hold in her whine; it clamors behind her teeth anyways.
He licks up her arousal until the muscles in her thighs are shaking, until she can't even tell if the slick mess between her legs is from herself or Sanji anymore. He sucks her clit through her underwear and moans like he's the one getting filthy, wet head, and Zoro's back arches. It’s disgusting, and she needs more, but he isn’t giving it to her. He just rubs her cunt over her panties like an asshole, unrelenting in his teasing.
“Sanji,” she gasps, rocking up into his mouth, “take them off.”
And the man currently inhabiting Sanji’s body says, “Yes ma’am.”
Zoro muffles her groan behind her forearms as he drags her underwear down her legs.
She breathes a sigh of relief when he finally gets his mouth on her and starts sucking sloppy kisses up to her clit. He pulls back for long enough to wet his fingers. Two fingers slip in far too easily, her cunt loose and slick from all his messing around. Sanji whines as loud as she does when his knuckles meet her pelvis. He curls his fingers inside with enough pressure to have her keening up at the ceiling, and for a sharp moment she worries she's going to come before he even starts thrusting, and wouldn't he love that.
Then, of course, he's fucking her with those long, sure strokes that he knows she loves, and he's hitting her so deep and his breath is fanning over her skin as he moans through his nose, and the fear of coming too early is overwritten by the fear that her brain is leaking out of her ears and she's about to start babbling a bunch of nonsense about how he's perfect, perfect, so fucking perfect.
Zoro pets her hand through his hair, hand shaking from the effort it takes to be soft and not grip. He lets his thumb replace his tongue as he pushes his head into her palm. His thrusts slow to a lazy drag. She brushes his hair out of his face, taking in the sight of both of his half lidded eyes and the way his eyebrows curl in the same direction. He licks his lips. It draws Zoro's attention in on the mess that’s been made of his face. She pets down around his ear to his chin, and drags her thumb through it: his spit, her arousal, the sweat from them both. She touches the pad of her thumb to his bottom lip, pulling down just enough to reveal his teeth and a peek of his tongue.
When she pushes inside, Sanji’s eyes fall shut. He closes his lips and wet heat surrounds her thumb. His taste buds are soft where his tongue curls around her. She pushes in until her knuckle meets his teeth, and he sucks as she pulls out. Something in the back of her mind marvels at how tight his mouth is around her. Zoro pushes her thumb back inside. His teeth scrape at her skin. She presses down on his tongue – he presses down on her clit.
She rocks against his hand in time with each thrust of her thumb into the slick clutch of his mouth, biting her lip hard to keep herself quiet, and it's bizarrely similar to—
Fuck.
Zoro’s head falls back onto the pillow.
So it wasn’t a passing desire after all.
Zoro wants to fuck him. She wants to fuck him bad. She wants a cock to press into his throat, to watch his eyes roll back and flutter and tear as he tries to take it all, to be good for her. Maybe he'd even let her suck him off more often, once he realized what it was like.
Spit slips down her palm. Her insides are tingling under her skin.
Sanji licks over the tip of her thumb and she’s going insane, that’s the only explanation. She pulls her thumb away just to replace it with her middle and ring fingers, touching at the back of his throat, and he whines and thrusts his own fingers deeper inside her in a way that makes it impossible to deny that he liked it.
Because he did like it, Zoro realizes, her eyes blowing wide. Her two fingers crook down and pull backwards to stroke down his tongue with a constant pressure. Sanji melts against her. His fingers pick up in force, and every sharp thrust is punctuated with a whiny little moan from the back of his throat.
Zoro's dreaming. This isn't real. Sanji is rutting into the bed because she's fucking his mouth with her fingers, and there's no way this is real.
"Hey lovebirds!” Nami’s voice is accompanied by a pounding on the door that rattles it in the frame. The spell breaks, and they both groan. Zoro’s hand falls from Sanji’s mouth. “Thanks for watching the ship! We need all hands, coup-de-burst in fifteen!”
“Minutes?” Sanji asks into Zoro's thigh.
“Seconds!” Nami barks back. "And don't make me get Luffy to drag you out!"
Zoro drags her hands down her face. It smears Sanji's spit over her skin. Sanji still has his fingers in her cunt, working in and out at a steady pace. She nudges his hip with her heel.
"Okay. Get out of me and get up," Zoro says. Sanji rests his cheek on her thigh and looks up at her with his big, sad eyes, drawing soft circles around her clit with his thumb. A little dribble of blood pools in his cupid's bow. She holds in a shiver, extremely successfully.
"But I wanna make you come," he pouts. Zoro pushes up on one hand and fixes his hair back over his eye.
"Aw, cookie," she pouts back. She tucks her knuckle under his chin and tilts his head up to face her. "I would've by now if you hadn't done all that weird shit." She ducks her head to kiss his swollen lips.
Sanji's face twists back to normal, flat and irritated.
"Oh, because you hated it so much," he says, and wipes his hand on her pants.
6.
Sanji is going to lose his fucking mind.
He could take it if a week went by where Zoro had no interest in sex. He'd be fine. Probably. He can get by with his own hand, he did it for long enough before.
However. Zoro is interested. She jumps his bones about as often as she can get her hands on them. For Sanji, there's no question. So if Zoro wants to have sex, and Sanji wants to have sex, then they should be having sex. The math is simple.
Therein lies the problem: Zoro and Sanji are not having sex.
Not for lack of trying, just… life on a pirate ship leaves little room for opportunity. None of the doors have locks, there's always someone on watch, and the open ocean isn't as open as one would hope, with enemy ships seemingly waiting for the moment that Sanji's hand finally gets in Zoro's pants to jump out of god knows where.
Outright denial would be one thing. His appetite would even lower to a simmer from a lack of attention. Probably. This, though, the ratcheting tension, dangling the carrot of an imminent orgasm just to yank it away when it's within reach — it's so much worse. It's edging with no release.
To say that it's making him irritable is an understatement. Yesterday, Sanji jerked off in the shower three times in a row. He didn't even know he was capable of that.
Worst of all? The absolute nail in the hammer of this beloathed, unsatiated, horny coffin? It's left Sanji completely uninspired. He can't think of a single recipe. He's forced into recalling old favorites, and he's already bored with it.
He's there, now, spinning his cooling coffee cup in circles as he stares down an empty page. He wants to try something new for breakfast. He doesn't even know what that would look like.
One week without sex and Sanji has already lost his edge. If there's a rock bottom for being pathetic, he might have reached it.
He has twenty minutes on the clock before he has to throw something together, and so far the only thing he's managed to do is doodle a tiny straw hat on the corner of the page.
"Mornin'." Zoro's hand passes across his shoulders as she walks past him. He grunts around his thumbnail.
"What're you doing up so early?" Sanji turns his journal face down. A short conversation, some time away from the page, that's what he needs. Just a little inspiration.
Zoro stands at the sink, filling a glass with water.
"Went for a swim," she answers simply. She takes a sip.
"Out…?" He points in a random direction off ship.
"Yeah."
"We're travelling at ten knots."
"Oh. Neat." Sanji stares at her for as long as it takes for Zoro to finish her water. She leaves her glass in the sink and makes her way back to him. "What's for breakfast?"
He rubs his eyes.
"I'll tell you when I figure it out."
Zoro sits next to him with her back to the table. She takes his journal from him, peering thoughtfully at the blank page. Sanji moves his leg to press against hers as he's robbed.
"I think I see your problem," she tells him. He rests his chin on his hand.
"Enlighten me."
"You're on the wrong page." She flips back in his journal to a recipe for slow roasted sea king and presents it to him. "See? Writing here. You read. Then make."
"I'm gonna kick your head in," he laughs, pulling a grin out of her. He tugs for his journal back and tosses it back onto the table. Then he groans, and rests his brow on Zoro's shoulder. "I've got nothing."
"You have an entire pantry full of food."
"What does it matter, when your head is empty?"
"Never stopped you before."
Sanji can only grind his forehead into her shoulder. She presses a kiss to the top of his head. He wraps one of his arms around her waist to tug her closer. He glares at the pantry, taunting him with all of its spoils locked inside, ready to be used once he can manage to pull his head out of his own ass.
Hold on.
He straightens.
"Get up."
Zoro's hand goes to the white sword on her hip in an instant. Her body tenses. She looks to the door, then the portholes that surround them.
"What?"
"Get up, up, up, up, you heard me!" Sanji nearly lifts her off her feet to pull her away from the table. She holds onto his forearms to stop herself from stumbling.
"Okay, okay, for fuck's sake," she gripes. She allows herself to be bullied across the room, still searching for a sign of danger.
Sanji covers the keypad as he puts in the code, ignoring how Zoro clicks her tongue at his secrecy. She can be irritated all she wants; Zoro is the last person that Sanji wants knowing the code to their dry storage. Not only would their alcohol stores be gone within the night, but one sad eyed look from any other member of the crew and so would everything else.
The moment the door opens, Sanji is pushing her inside and following suit. He yanks on the handle to be certain it closed.
Zoro regards him, eyebrows raised and arms crossed, backed by barrels of cooking wine.
"You wanna tell me why you dragged me into a fucking closet?" She asks. Sanji points to the door: where instead of a knob there's a big lever with PULL TO RELEASE written above it in big, easy to read lettering. Underneath the lever reads PLEASE USE. Further under that says SERIOUSLY. YOU DO NOT HAVE TO BREAK THIS DOOR TO EXIT.
Franky catches on quickly.
"It locks," he says.
"It locks," she parrots, sounding bored. Then what he's said sets in. Her expression blooms, opening up into a sharp white grin and a crinkle in the corner of her eyes. She says again, "it locks, huh?"
She drags him into a kiss by his shirt collar. He hums against her lips, atoms singing yes, yes, yes.
Sanji's hands slide from her forearms to her shoulders. He takes a step forward, she takes his lead and a step back. He allows her to stroke down his chest, but when she starts unbuttoning his shirt, he stops her.
"What about your precious foreplay?" She asks, releasing his shirt. Sanji very graciously does not roll his eyes, and keeps his memory of the fucked out look on her face as he ate her out through her panties to himself.
"We've got ten minutes. Maybe." He kisses the shell of her ear and tugs the front of her haramaki. "And I intend to be inside you before then." Zoro's cheek moves against his as she grins.
"Good." She pulls him closer to let him grind against her front. He sighs at the friction, but it isn't enough. He lowers his voice to a whisper.
"Now bend over."
Zoro outright laughs.
"Excuse you?"
"Zoro," he says, and rests his hands on her hips to turn her to face the wine barrels, pressing against her back and further demanding, "bend over."
He watches as her jaw works, no doubt searching her mind for something adequately rude to say, but she must decide against it because she rests her hands on the lip of the barrel without a word. A thrill flushes through him. He hikes up her haramaki around her ribs to get to her zipper. He occupies himself with mouthing kisses to the side of her neck as he gets her pants undone. Her skin is cool, and the bracing taste of ocean water zips on his tongue.
Sanji only pulls down her pants far enough to get his hand between her legs, whining at the feeling of her warm thighs bracketing his fingers as he cups her mound. She arches into his touch for more friction.
"C'mon, Mr. Ten Minutes, get a move on already." She reaches behind to start unbuckling his belt.
"Eager," he teases, with a nip to her earlobe. His middle finger dips between her folds. He's met with a perfect slide, and he groans, "Very eager."
"Says you." She somehow manages to get her hand around his dick, stroking his aching length through his boxers. Sanji hangs his head into the crook of her shoulder as he humps her hand.
"Not my fault," he breathes. "You ever seen yourself?"
A self satisfied chuckle is her reply.
"Condom?"
"Left back pocket." She sticks her hand into his pocket, completely unsubtle when she gives his ass a rough squeeze. "The other left back pocket," he says, and presses his finger to her clit. He revels in the soft moan it gets him.
Zoro opens the package with her teeth and wastes no time rolling on the latex. She's even so kind to guide his cock in the right direction. He nudges the tip against her leaking hole, smiling against her shoulder blade.
"Cook—"
"Say please?"
The glare that Zoro sends over her shoulder would have taken down a lesser man. Unfortunately for her, it just makes his cock throb.
"Alright, fine," he concedes, and gives her what they both want.
He doesn't know who's louder when he pushes in to the hilt. His own moan is loud in his ears even as he muffles himself into Zoro's shoulder. Zoro melts over the barrel. She sinks to her elbows, her pussy fluttering around him and making his toes curl in his shoes.
Sanji grips her hips and pulls her as close as he can possibly get her. Even through the condom she's so warm. He wants to bury himself deep inside and never come out, to not budge from this spot for the rest of the day. He almost snorts at the thought. As if Zoro could sit still for that long.
His initial strokes are slow and deep, unwilling to depart from her heat for more than a centimeter at a time. Despite the clock looming over their heads, Sanji intends to savor this. It's been too long without it, and he doesn't know the next time he'll get it.
Ever the impatient one, Zoro starts pushing back against his thrusts. She sets a pace faster than his, fucking with his rhythm, demanding he keep up. She squeezes impossibly tight when he complies, and fine, the friction is better, so much better, and the way Zoro is holding onto the barrel to brace herself against his rapid thrusts is dizzyingly hot. But he's already starting to lose himself to the pleasure tingling down his thighs, the tightening in his balls, and Zoro is greatly overestimating how long Sanji is going to last.
Zoro is letting out those sharp breaths that Sanji can't get enough of, clipped whines when he hits her deep. He rubs his hand up from her hip to feel the rigid muscles of her belly, to bear witness to the way her ribs tighten at every exhale.
That pressure inside him is coiled past its breaking point, it's so much, too much, and he doesn't know how much more he can take. He pants into her nape as he fucks her, overwhelmed by her skin under his palm and the slick sound of her pussy taking his cock over and over and her body tensing and arching under his and oh, god, oh
"God, ohGodoh God—"
Zoro yelps in a way he hasn't heard before as a particularly hard thrust sends her forward. The barrel under her tilts to the side as her body weight hits it. Her hand slaps against the wall to stop from being thrown into it.
Ice water dumps over his head.
His words tumble out in a rush.
"Zoro? Are you okay? Did I— Did I hurt you, are you hurt?"
She doesn't waste a second.
"Do that again," she breathes. She presses back from the wall to take him deeper, trying to coax him back from the half hard state that he withered to.
And Sanji gapes, unsure if he understands and not entirely convinced that she's unscathed. He's never done that to someone before; he's usually so careful.
Zoro takes his silence in the opposite direction. She whines, rocking against his length and fitting her hand over Sanji's on her stomach.
"Cook, Sanji, do that again, c'mon," she grinds back on his cock, eyes hazy as she looks over her shoulder, an expert at getting him achingly hard. "Please, alright? Please do that a-ah!"
Sanji drags her back to meet his next thrust, just as forceful as the last, and at her whimpered yes he falls into a brutal pace. His body and his mind war with each other, telling him that she begged for it and she wouldn't want it so badly if he'd hurt her but he's fucking her so hard that he has to be hurting her, and what the hell is wrong with him that it feels- so- damn- good.
Zoro braces against the wall and holds onto him as she's pounded into, and she gets loud. Every rough thrust forces out another bitten off cry that bounces off the walls of the pantry, shameless despite the mere three inches of metal that separate them from one of the most heavily trafficked areas of the ship.
"They're gonna think, I'm, killing you, in here," Sanji gasps, covering Zoro's mouth with his hand. Her breaths fan over the backs of his fingers, her lips curl under his palm. The noises she makes are dampened, but not altogether hidden, vibrating against his skin.
Zoro lets out a moan that twists into something high and breathless, clawing at his arm, knocking the barrel against the wall when she shoves it with her knee. She writhes, her hole spasming around his cock in an obscene rhythm. Her arousal trickles down his balls and dampens his underwear. His fingers dig into her belly, they squeeze her cheeks, and he pulls her flush to his chest and ruts hopelessly into her soft, warm, sopping wet pussy as he whimpers into her neck. Her eyelashes flutter against his temple, her moans dropping into groans from the back of her throat.
"Oh, fuck, Zoro, Zoro, ZoroZoroZoroZoroZoroplease—" He drags a rough gasp into his lungs as he spills into the condom, grinding his hips against her ass to fuck as deep as he can get. His vision blacks out. Maybe his eyes just screw shut. Whatever. For one pulsing, bone shuddering moment, it's euphoria.
Still reeling from his orgasm, Sanji's awareness comes back to him in waves.
Namely, that he'd been too caught up in manhandling Zoro to make her come. He's quick to rectify the mistake, releasing her mouth to work quick circles over her clit.
She slaps his hand away with a pained whine. At his confused noise, she pants out, "Gim-Gimme a… gimme a minute."
Sanji strokes her thigh as they come down. Did Zoro take care of herself? No, she couldn't have, her hands were elsewhere the entire time. She wasn't in a position to grind on the barrel, either. There's only one way she could've gotten off, but she's never done that before. First time for everything.
He tucks his chin over her shoulder, lips pressed passively to the side of her neck.
"Zoro," he coos, holding her tight even as he slips out, "did you come just from getting fucked?"
She tenses in his hold.
That's a yes. Sanji preens, brushing his lips back and forth over her skin. He tucks away that piece of information for later, eager to put it to use again.
"You try not to come when someone's fucking you like that." She angles her head away from him, but doesn't fight when he turns her head back with a finger on her jaw.
"You asked for it," he reminds her, and kisses the corner of her lips. Then, he tacks on with a sleazy grin, "Begged, actually."
"Piss off," she huffs, and squirms in his grip like she's going to wiggle out of it while refusing to actually do so.
"I didn't hurt you, did I?" He asks it casually, hoping to already know the answer, but underneath it is concern that he can't shake. She reaches up to rub her fingers over the base of his skull.
"Cook, it doesn't matter how hard we're fucking. Your dick is not big enough to hurt me," she promises. He jabs his knuckles into her sides, forcing a snort out of her. She turns to face him and ropes him into a kiss, something deep and heavy and soft, and Sanji allows himself to sink into it despite the dwindling sand in the hourglass.
"You have to get back," she tells him, kissing down his jaw to his neck.
"I have to get back," he agrees, nodding dumbly at the wall. Zoro removes the condom, but instead of pulling his pants back over his hips she tugs them further down. He grabs at his waistband. She halts him with a hold on his wrist.
"Wh— Zoro—" He mutters, watching with wide eyes as she lowers herself to her knees. "What are you..?"
"I'm not gonna send our cook out of here dirty, am I? Look at you, you're a mess." She holds his gaze as she licks up her own slick from the side of his balls. Sanji jerks with a little gasp.
"You don't, I— what if—" his words unravel into little whines as she takes his soft length into her mouth. She pulls back, curling her tongue around the head. Sanji, sensitive and embarrassed, shivers at the attention.
"What if…?"
"What if someone comes looking?" He manages, as she drags her lips down to the base of his dick.
Zoro smooths her hands up the backs of his thighs, urging him closer until his ankles are brushing the outsides of her thighs. She smiles up at him, thumbs rubbing circles into the junction of his thighs.
"What are they gonna do about it? The door's locked."