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This whole debacle had started with an innocent mistake on Sanji’s part. He was but an early teenage boy who didn’t know better. He rationalizes that any healthy young man with a curious mind would have been tempted to do the same, sooner or later.
However, not every boy was created by his psychotic dad with the evolutionarily perfect human as a goal in mind. Sanji discovered the hard way that his youthful trespassing would lead to a lifelong addiction second only to that for nicotine.
He just wanted to know if sperm tasted any good, ok!? Fuck Vinsmoke Judge, and fuck his eugenics agenda. Sanji cringed when he thought about his father willingly bestowing his offspring with such a disgusting trait as addictive semen for the sole purpose of, what? Science? Betterment of the species? His species?
To think Sanji had endured years of abuse and beatings for not being like his siblings, and then this. Talk about adding insult to fucking injury. A closeted man with addictive come. Life is a joke sometimes.
Managing it on the Baratie had been a nightmare. He was always surrounded by burly men, and privacy was just not a thing. He’d gotten better at hiding over the years, but the lengthy periods of withdrawal had forced him to pick up the secondary habit of smoking, lest he get himself thrown at sea for his prissy behavior during those harsh months of abstinence.
The Merry and the Sunny were a breath of fresh air. The crew was a breath of fresh air. Finally some time to himself, a kitchen to call his own, and some friends that were not three times as old as he was. But most of all, some fucking privacy.
Meal prepping and night guarding were the main times he was allowed to be alone with himself and indulge in that shameful addiction he’d unknowingly brought upon himself.
It’s not like he liked it. His diet was balanced, and he made sure to eat as many sweet fruits as he could, but sperm was not exactly his favorite meal, despite his mind trying to trick him into believing it was. He always did it begrudgingly, but it eased his mind nonetheless. And he would be lying if he said the feeling of doing something so nasty did not excite him a bit.
A downside was that he would sometimes yearn for it in the middle of things- cooking, partying, sleeping, battle- but it wasn’t as simple or fast as lighting a cigarette, and he certainly couldn’t just stop whatever he was doing to go find a place to jerk it.
That’s when the idea came to him to start experimenting with food. Maybe if he cooked a bunch of cookies and added that to the mix…
Surprisingly, it worked. Sanji just needed one of his makeshift edibles to give him the bliss of twenty whole cigarettes. Who’d think his outlandish addiction would turn out to have a cheaper solution than his more ordinary one.
***
One early morning, with the ship docked at some random island’s port, Luffy, Nami, Brook, Franky, and Chopper had left the Sunny to go buy supplies at the local market. Seeing as it was only minutes after dawn- they’d left that early to avoid the merciless heat of the summer climate- the rest of the crew was still sleeping comfortably.
Everyone but Sanji, who was running low on… his own supplies. He decided to take the chance and bake a fresh batch of cookies he would store in his usual hidden cabinet.
After an hour or so of preparation and cooking time, he carefully dragged the sweet treats out of the oven and left them to cool on the counter. He needed them to be cold if he wanted to store them in the usual glass jar.
It was his own fault for thinking he could use the break to smoke a quick cigarette on the deck. As soon as he opened the door to get back inside, he caught a still sleepy Zoro feasting on the cookies. That must’ve been his third one, if the vacant spots on the tray were anything to go by.
With widening eyes, he cursed at his crewmate and shooed him off with a kick to the ribs.
“Who said you could eat those, Moss-head!?” He spat, his mortification making his words sound less intimidating and more concerned. Zoro shrugged and grinned maliciously, “Why? Are they a treat for the ladies?”
Sanji’s face flushed at the thought of having the girls eat them. He mentally slapped himself back to reality; Robin could’ve as easily woken up and done exactly what Zoro was doing. He couldn’t have that. Of course there’s also the fact that Robin, contrary to someone else, was polite enough to ask before consuming something she just found lying around. Still, it was a risk Sanji shouldn’t have taken.
“Just get out of here, right now!” The blonde commanded, relieved that Zoro just raised his hands and started walking in the direction of the door. Sanji felt a drop of sweat leaking onto his brow. Fucking hell, if he didn’t crave a cookie himself now.
“Well, they’re actually good, you know,” Zoro started with a flat tone before turning the door handle. “I’ll be training outside. Bring me some when they’re done cooling, will ya?” Sanji was glad Zoro hadn’t waited for his response before actually leaving.
What the fuck was he going to do now?
***
Hours passed, and Zoro trained his body to its limit. It was almost lunchtime at this point, and he hadn’t eaten anything besides those cookies from earlier. Was Sanji really not going to bring him some more? For all the fuss he made about Zoro, the cook was usually pretty accommodating when it came to nutrition, even with him. It was his duty on the ship after all.
Whatever, Zoro thought. He’d have to get his hands on them by himself later. He wasn’t kidding when he said they were good. He tried to act nonchalant with Sanji, not to flatter his ego in any way, but damn if those weren’t the best cookies he’d ever tried. And he wasn’t even the type for sweet stuff.
When Zoro headed to the galley for lunch, he was surprised to meet Sanji right at the door. In fact, they almost bumped into each other. The cook was sweaty and jittery, like he’d just run a marathon. His shirt was unbuttoned at the top, and he carried three trays of fragrant food in his arms. Zoro hadn’t noticed before, but the outside table had been dressed and prepared for the meal.
Well. Cool. Food, finally.
As the four crewmates sat down to eat, Zoro’s nostrils flared. The cook slumped down next to him with a sigh, and he swore he could pick up the delicious smell of those cookies from before even over the aroma of crabs and fried eggplant bites.
Usopp and Robin made small talk as Sanji tried to regain his breath. The portion he’d settled onto his plate was small. He must’ve eaten something already. And Zoro could guess what.
The table was empty in a matter of minutes, Usopp’s appetite bottomless after having been cooped up in his room working on heavy weapon modifications the entire morning. Though Sanji protested she absolutely didn’t have to, Robin used her extra arms to help him pick up the dirty tableware. Before they could turn their backs to the table, however, Zoro addressed the cook.
“So no dessert today, cook?” He taunted.
Sanji knew what Zoro was getting at. “I prepared a cake, but we’ll have it after dinner, with the others. Go bite a sword if you need something in your pie hole that bad.“ Sanji meant to put an end to the conversation, but a part of him knew Zoro would insist.
“What about those cookies, then?” He said, getting up from his seat.
Sanji sighed. No way he had managed to give himself a new reason to hate Zoro. He didn’t know how to handle this situation, and what’s more, Robin and Usopp were now onto him too- you could see it in their eyes they were undoubtedly curious about the mentioned sweets, or maybe just concerned about the feud they were seemingly going to trigger.
Sanji decided once again that the best way to get out of the situation was to… physically get out, or rather, get in the galley and lock the door behind him. And so he washed dishes as he cleared his mind and waited until his companions hopefully forgot about the scene and just got back to their daily activities.
Once he was done with the chore, he tiptoed to the door and silently unlocked it, figuring he would just get lost for a bit, maybe take a quick shower and a nap without anybody else having to notice his absence. With the cookies locked away, he should have nothing to worry about.
***
Zoro realized the kitchen door was open only after a few hours, when he came down from the crow’s nest after a particularly tough workout session to look for something fresh to drink. He’d forgotten Sanji’s tantrum at that point, but he remembered instantly once his fingers were on the handle and a sense of déjà-vu hit him like a brick. This time, though, the door opened.
The kitchen was silent except for Zoro’s quiet chuckle of triumph as he realized Sanji had not locked the main fridge. The benefits of a day without the captain aboard. He grabbed a water bottle from the side, and his stomach gave a low grumble. He hadn’t necessarily been hungry before, but he could use a snack now.
Inside the fridge, pristine and way too large for a group of nine people, sat the cake Sanji had prepared for the evening. Zoro cringed at the cream puffs that decorated it. He’d have gladly taken a bite just to spite the cook, but those sugary dollops turned him off completely. Too sweet.
As he drank the water and slowly let the fridge door close, however, he smelled something that did, in fact, tease his appetite. Those damn cookies. He knew the cook was hiding them from him!
Following his nose like a dog, he smelled the air, trying to understand where the scent was coming from. He opened doors he was not supposed to, checked the pantry multiple times, even looked on top of the cabinets to make sure he’d checked all his bases, but the answer stood right before him all along.
Just atop the sealed fridge was a non-refrigerated compartment bearing the same lock, except this one was actually shut. The swordsman banged a fist against the wood in frustration and had half the mind to actually deal it a lethal blow, but he stopped himself before doing it.
Was he really going to destroy a cabinet just because of a cookie? He shook his head and sighed. His fingertips squirmed at his sides as he convinced himself against it, backpedaling away from the kitchen counter and opting for the shower he’d been envisioning the second he’d laid his comically huge dumbbells back on their racks.
Passing through the men’s quarters to grab some of his stuff for the bath, he saw Sanji lying down, still fully clothed, and he could still catch that same smell on him. What surprised him was that when he instinctively got closer, he could smell it even more from… under the bed? He realized at this point that it wasn’t really the smell of baked goods. It was something else entirely, but he did recognize it as the addictive taste inside the few delicious cookies he’d managed to eat before Sanji’s rude interruption.
Without giving it much thought, he kneeled down by the side of the bed the cook was peacefully sleeping on and reached underneath it with his arm. He caught something papery and brought it out. Of course it was a dirty mag. He rolled his eyes, threw it over his shoulder, and went back down, this time fishing out a piece of cloth. Nothing peculiar about it, really. If it wasn’t for the smell. Bingo!
He didn’t stop to think about why he was willing to snoop in his crewmate’s belongings just to get another one of those cookies. It was a weirdly irresistible impulse. He methodically unfolded the cloth, hoping to find the object of his desire inside of it, when-
Nothing? But the smell was so strong, Zoro could’ve sworn…
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing!?” Sanji screamed and sat up in a start, lunging forward and failing to grab the cloth from Zoro’s hands, his legs clearly still numbed by sleep. He settled on simply bonking Zoro on the top of his head with a closed fist instead.
Zoro retracted immediately after the hit, but he didn’t let go of the piece of cloth. That’s when he noticed, much to the distaste of anyone involved, that it was sticky with something clear and runny, only halfway absorbed by the fabric.
Whatever drug Judge had put inside his children, it must have been strong as hell, because why else would Zoro just go ahead and lick the liquid like it was nothing? Sanji had to suppress a screech with the palm of his hand, horror settling in. There was no going back now.
“Zoro, that’s…” he tried, with little voice coming out of him.
“What the hell? This is so good… Is this some cream from the cookies?”
Zoro was so frustratingly clueless. How could Sanji get out of the situation this time? When all evidence pointed to the truth, and yet the mosshead was naively unaware of it all?
“Zoro. That’s my cum you just ate.” He said, deadpan.
A few instants of silence passed as Zoro’s eyes widened and his face twisted in a sequence of unreadable emotions.
“Why…” was the only shaky word the green-haired idiot was able to get out of his mouth, his hands trembling at his sides, an unspoken urge thrumming from within him.
Sanji was just about to explain himself when the larger man suddenly pushed himself forward onto him, forcing him down the bed again and straddling his body between muscular thighs.
“What are you doing now!?” Sanji barely managed to scream before Zoro pulled his slacks down in one motion, pale but strong hips now exposed on the sheets. With the intense stare of a predator studying its prey, Zoro sat back on his legs and hovered closer to the cook’s crotch.
A whiff of Sanji’s underwear was enough to confirm it. That’s where the delicious smell was coming from. The smell of something his body unexplainably craved more of. And he wouldn’t waste any more time asking himself pointless questions like Why.
“The door’s not even locked!” Sanji yelled as soon as Zoro yanked his underwear down and unceremoniously took his cock in hand. “You- idiot asshole!” He squealed between gritted teeth as Zoro started moving his calloused palm along the shaft. Which wasn’t much of a shaft at that point, by the way. Only an ignorant moron like him could think to pleasure a man with no ambience, no niceties, and especially no fucking lubricant. It got to the point where Sanji had to actually get in the way, slapping the swordsman’s wrist away from him.
“L-listen,” he started, unsure of what he was going to say. He got up in a sitting position, his voice trembling with the frustration of embarrassment combined with excitement. It was the first time a man touched him like that, and his mind raced at the thought that he wasn’t going to stop him. But he did owe him an explanation. However messy and awkward.
“I- you,” he said with a sigh and interrupted himself again, “My… semen,” he cringed visibly and averted his eyes at the fact he had just said that out loud. “It’s addictive. Don’t ask me why because God knows I had no idea it even was before I-“ he stopped himself. He’d already given up some very incriminating, very shameful information. He would have stopped there, but Zoro’s previously turned-off brain seemed to suddenly catch on, re-learning the power of speech at the same time.
“You mean you eat your own cum? I knew you were a pervert, but-“
“Shut the fuck up! You want it or not!?” Sanji broke in a sweat and screamed again, his face flushed.
But it seemed to have worked. Zoro’s grin faded, and he looked away with a pout of silent compliance.
Now that he’d gained the upper hand again, Sanji looked really smug for someone burdened with a vaguely sexually freakish addiction. “Good,” he said, “Care to do it right, then?” he said with a smirk, feigning a confidence he truly did not possess.
The lines on Zoro’s forehead hinted at a feeling of annoyance that was thoroughly betrayed by the eagerness he showed as he slowly lowered his head to Sanji’s groin. Why hadn’t he thought of it before? If there was a way to get even a scrap of that taste before getting Sanji off, it would surely be by getting his mouth on that cock. And fuck, he was right.
As soon as his lips hesitantly kissed Sanji’s tip, the taste flooded his senses. God, it was exactly that. It was what had been driving him insane the whole day, but it was stronger than in any goddamn cookie. He could feel the adrenaline building in response to his excitement. He was starting to breathe heavily, his body feeling pinpricks of tension in all the right places, and before he could tell, he was going down deeper on Sanji’s cock, swallowing around it and earning a prolonged hiss from the man above him.
He hadn’t registered when those hands had moved to cradle his jaw, but they had, and they were warm around the sides of his face. Sanji could feel a tepid droplet of sweat roll onto his finger. No matter, not when Zoro kept going deeper and deeper, stubbornly ignoring his own choked breaths for the sake of another taste.
Was this what it was like, doing it with a man? No, it was just doing it with someone who got addicted to your fucking spunk. Well, that certainly accounted for the commitment, but… Had Zoro done this before? Nothing else could really explain his mind-blowing technique. He did not suck cock like someone who had an inkling of what to do. He sucked cock like-
Wait a goddamn minute. Who said he cared about whether Zoro had sucked cock before or not? Why was he even in this situation with someone he despised to begin with?
The answers to those questions were lost in the way Zoro suddenly scrambled for Sanji’s hips and pushed them into his face, nose nuzzling in his pubes at first and then stabbing his pelvis with an ambitious thrust.
A momentary lapse of judgment fuelled by guilt. Yes. Of course.
Zoro was unable to keep his tongue still, it seemed. Not that either of them minded. But Sanji surely couldn’t be blamed for losing it when that mossball kept doing- whatever it was he was doing. Tracing veins? Mimicking alphabet letters? Pretending he was french-kissing his cock? Trying to milk him dry? Sanji was pretty sure the latter was correct either way. God, his head was spinning.
He was so close to his orgasm that he nearly sobbed when Zoro’s mouth loudly popped off of his head, saliva glossing over his lower lip and lewdly dripping onto Sanji’s swollen sack. Fuck. Did he even have enough breath left to ask him why he’d stopped while still preserving some semblance of dignity? The answer was in a pathetic “W-why would you, ah- you bastard.”
Zoro chuckled, his fingers constricting the base of Sanji’s cock to keep him from wasting his precious come. Not caring to dignify the cook with a response to his baby-brained question, Zoro simply took the moment to readjust in his position, finally getting a hand inside his own pants.
Sanji did not fail to notice how the mere glimpse of that thick silhouette made his mouth water. Maybe next time. Wait- What next time!? There wouldn’t-
Zoro’s mouth was suddenly all over him again before he could chicken out of his own admissions. “Warn a man, you stupid-!” Sanji yelped, red-hot pleasure overriding his reason once more. He needed to get this over with before his brain was totally fried by that hairy salad’s god-blessed mouth. And it wouldn’t be long, if the telltale shake in his thigh was anything to go by.
He should’ve known that Zoro wouldn’t give a shit, but his gentlemanly ways got the best of him, and he warned that he was close. Well, it seemed he wasn’t the only one. Zoro’s hand sped up in his pants, and fuck if that didn’t look like the crazed, painful handjob that Sanji had thankfully gotten out of moments before. Maybe this freak liked it that way after all. He was definitely getting louder around Sanji’s cock, his tongue now moving in the messy circles Sanji would expect from someone less experienced. He was losing his footing too. That’s addiction for you.
Sanji’s dams finally burst with Zoro’s following thrust. He had half expected Zoro to want it all deep in his throat. That’s how he’d make the taste linger even after a thorough teeth brushing session. But fuck. Sanji had another idea.
Much to the swordsman’s shock, he pushed his face backward for the first time, Zoro’s lower teeth scraping the underside of his length with a titillating mix of pain and pleasure that eventually brought him over the edge. His come spilled obscenely in the moist cavity of Zoro’s mouth. He was in turn unable to contain his moans. That endorphin release was just too much, that feeling like a taut cord ripping when his sore muscles could finally relax and let his mind experience the ecstasy that was the fruit of their work.
“Fuck, Zoro-“ Sanji aggressively grasped the neckline of Zoro’s patternless shirt, dragging him up into a kiss that tasted like himself. Like the drug within himself. He spun his tongue around the other’s mouth in search of that taste, of a leftover droplet of come. On his tongue, the rough texture must have retained some of it, right? Fuck, it wouldn’t be enough. It had been so long since he’d had it fresh.
Turns out Zoro had been holding the load just so far back in his throat as to not be within reach for Sanji, but also to be able to not swallow it himself. He was savoring it. But when he felt how restless Sanji was, he decided he would share. He could be selfish next time. Wait, next time? This was just a-
Sanji caught on to him and trapped Zoro’s head between his palms, lunging forward to the point Zoro capsized on his back. He should have diced his ass for that, but Sanji looked… right, on top of him. What’s more, speaking now meant letting Sanji swallow it all, and there was no way he was giving up what he’d worked so hard for. Truth be told, the exchange had left enough of the taste in his mouth. He’d always had a thing for the chase, though.
Zoro’s hands grabbed Sanji’s ass behind him. The cook must have seen through him, because he didn’t let it get to him enough to pull back, either. All the better for Zoro, then. He did have an itch to scratch, and Sanji’s crotch against his own sounded like a pretty good solution.
At that point, it was a tug of war, a petty fight of who could hold their breath the longest to draw out the pleasure of their tongues swimming in the filthy mix of come and saliva. And much like any other fight of theirs, it didn’t really end with one of them prevailing.
A particularly rough drag of Sanji’s hips on Zoro’s caused the latter to reach his own climax, coming in his pants and inadvertently choking around Sanji’s tongue. He swallowed their spit and sat up in a start to cough out the traitorous air that had sentenced the end of their escapade.
When he straightened his back again, Sanji was still there, his sweaty hair clinging to his forehead and looking at him as he tried to regain his breath, skin all red and damp.
Zoro was a mess of sweat, spit, and- fuck, that dark stain on his pants.
God knows, Sanji won’t need to touch a cigarette for the next ten years.