Cherry on Top

by Blasphemyandtheboys

Summary:

In order to properly appreciate the results, sometimes Sanji has to show Zoro what he needs the hard way. Nothing ventured nothing gained.

Notes:

This is part of a new experiment where I try to write 500 words every day to pace myself. Considering this took me four days instead of the usual one, I'm not sure if it was a success or a failure? It sure is self indulgent!

Content Warning

Seriously undernegotiated kink (but they're both super into it), cigarette burns, painplay, sadomasochism, rope bondage, light scarification, pirates don't know bdsm but they're trying their best.

Sanji found the process of rolling his own cigarettes to be incredibly relaxing. 

He didn't often get to do it, loose tobacco was an expense he had a hard time justifying to Nami. But sometimes, when the stars aligned and he found himself in possession of both papers and tobacco, he indulged in the habit.

There was a trick to it, a thin balance between a good smoke and wasted leaf, the perfect spot for the filter, how much spit to seal it. Rolling took skill.

And of course, doing a task skillfully had an element of pleasure to it, gratification hard earned and easy to flaunt. Competence was attractive. Some things were better enjoyed the hard way.

The cigarette tin balanced on his thigh was nearly full, and he gently nestled his most recent creation in the small space leftover. Sanji closed it with a loud snap of the metal lid, the only other person in the room twitching from the unexpected sound. 

He smirked as he set it aside, pulling out one last paper and spreading ground tobacco across the cream surface. Sanji took care to roll it perfectly, dampening the edge with his tongue before he smoothed it out, tapping it filter down against his thigh to pack the filling tighter. 

This one ended up between his lips, crackling as he lit it. Smooth, with just enough spice to be worthwhile. Sanji sighed as he leaned back on his hands, spreading his thighs open across the dark red duvet. Even through his slacks he could feel the luxurious fabric, warming under the weight of his body. 

They so rarely got to rent a room to themselves, and he planned to enjoy it to the fullest. See, he wasn’t just indulging in the slow process of hand rolled cigarettes. Sanji had dinner and a show, starring the one and only Roronoa Zoro in nothing but ropes.

His eyes trailed over the blindfolded man sitting in front of him, bound tightly to the wooden desk chair Sanji had repurposed for their little game. Zoro was often without a shirt, and yet the sight of his chest spilling over the ropes holding him in place was still awe inspiring. Tan skin as far as the eye could see, latticed with black cotton snug enough to leave indents.

Because he was watching the swordsman so closely, Sanji saw the tiny spasm in his jaw as he ground his teeth together. He hummed and slid his shoe up Zoro’s calf, delighting in the way he jumped at the sudden contact. “Getting impatient, Mossy?”

There were very few rules to the game they were playing, mostly because Sanji liked making shit up on the fly. Spontaneity really kept things fresh. But one rule he held to the utmost importance was that Zoro wasn’t to speak when he was tied up unless instructed to. 

That didn’t mean that he wasn’t going to try to goad Zoro into slipping. Only that if he took the bait, Sanji wouldn’t let him live it down.

Another rule was that observation haki was off limits. What fun was there in being blindfolded if he knew exactly what was happening? Sanji enjoyed how Zoro could only guess at what he was going to do next, his whole body tensed as though preparing for an attack. He was a tightly coiled spring, waiting for anything to set him off.

Maybe that said something about Sanji as a person, but he didn’t care to look into it further. He liked the tension in Zoro’s normally unshakable posture. He liked taking the swordsman by surprise, subverting expectations. 

And he loved to wind that bastard up when there was absolutely nothing he could do in retaliation.

Sanji blew the cigarette smoke across the small gap between their bodies, lazily smiling at how Zoro leaned into the smell. His arousal was on full display, thick thighs held apart by winding rope and Sanji’s careful planning. From the moment the first knot was made, he had kept an unflagging erection.

It had taken a lot of failed attempts to figure out how exactly to bind Zoro in a way that felt inescapable. Sure, he could theoretically break free at any point, but he wouldn't dare cut the night short like that. 

Their little game was Zoro’s idea in the first place. He had casually dropped the suggestion in the middle of their usual after dinner routine as they took care of the dishes. As though asking to be tied up and taken advantage of was a normal conversation topic, up there with the weather and current events.

Sanji was embarrassed to say that he had immediately shot it down. At first. He was still figuring out that there was more to sex than just penetration, and the mental image of Zoro bound and at his mercy almost dropped him to his knees right there in the kitchen.

Yet here they were, months and many bundles of rope later. The scenario was familiar enough that Sanji was starting to get cocky, his confidence bleeding into sex just like with everything else he did. Sanji didn’t waste time feeling bad about that, he knew how much Zoro liked his shitty attitude.

“Ma-ri-mo,” Sanji teased, leaning forward just enough to place his palm on Zoro’s knee. 

He ran hot most days, and his skin was likely scorching compared to the chill of the hotel room. Sure enough, he felt the muscles jump beneath his hand, and a sharp intake of breath was all the confirmation he needed. 

“Are you ignoring me? That’s not very nice.”

Zoro huffed, spreading his legs as much as the ropes would allow as he pushed up against Sanji’s touch. He wasn’t gagged, because Sanji enjoyed forcing him to actively choose to follow the rules. It was more rewarding that way.

Speaking of rewards, Sanji had to pull back to adjust himself, his own erection straining against his slacks. He had only taken off his dress shirt, choosing instead to lounge around in his tank top and pants. There was something so delicious about being mostly clothed compared to Zoro’s nudity, the juxtaposition of their situations sending delightful zaps through Sanji’s core.

He took a long drag of his cigarette as he surveyed all that tan skin just begging to be touched, knowing that whatever he did, Zoro would gladly endure it. As long as the swordsman was tied up, he was Sanji’s to do with as he pleased.

It took a couple tipsy conversations for Sanji to understand what Zoro was after with the rope and the faked helplessness. He didn’t quite understand the appeal of being entirely at someone else's mercy, but he could appreciate why Zoro would want that. For a man who was constantly in control, giving that up for an hour or two had to be cathartic.

That he would trust Sanji to be the one to hold onto his hard earned control was breathtaking. Even more so that he was willing to give Sanji free reign of his body in the process.

Sanji studied his position for a few more seconds, toying with his cigarette as he considered all the ways he could make Zoro squirm. The ash crumbled and scattered across his pantleg, spurring him into motion.

He slid off the bed onto his knees, running his hands up Zoro’s legs as he did so. Sanji blew a mouthful of smoke over his neglected dick, smiling when it twitched in interest. “You’re tense today. Any particular reason why?”

His overactive mind provided a handful of possibilities ranging from a rather heated sparring match that morning, to Sanji’s regularly scheduled knife maintenance that just so happened to coincide with Zoro’s presence in the kitchen.

Who was he kidding? Zoro was a simple man, and it was definitely the knife sharpening that got him all hot and bothered. He enjoyed Sanji’s competence more than Sanji himself, it seemed.

Trailing his fingertips along the inside of Zoro’s thigh all the way to the crease of his hip, Sanji resituated himself to fit comfortably between the swordsman’s muscled legs. He only shifted to pull his shoes off, but that pause was more than enough to have Zoro impatiently huffing at him.

“How old are you again? Don’t fucking pout.” Sanji scolded as he dug his nails into the meat of Zoro's overly muscled thigh to make him flinch. He was so sensitive when he was trussed up like this, even the slightest stimuli was enough to give him goosebumps.

The tobacco hissed as Sanji took a drag, considering the lit end of the cigarette thoughtfully. He was feeling adventurous, and he knew that Zoro was game for anything as long as he had Sanji’s attention.

“You’ve got so many scars,” He noted, tracing a few of the larger ones until his hand came to rest flat against Zoro’s lower abdomen. Like that, he could feel each measured breath as Zoro maintained his composure. Sanji didn’t want him composed, he wanted him needy and shameless. “How many are from me?”

The question was rewarded with the slightest hitch in his breathing, and a slow, malicious smile spilled out across Sanji’s face. Sometimes when he had the swordsman in such a predicament, he found cruelty was preferred over mercy.

“You’re right, not enough.”

Tap, tap, tap, Sanji’s fingers strolled down Zoro’s leg, coming to a stop on his knee once more. He grabbed the limb and held it in place as he took another drag of his cigarette, then brought the lit end within an inch of the smooth, unmarked skin on the inside of Zoro’s lower thigh.

He could see the exact moment the heat registered in Zoro’s dumb brain. His whole body tensed and his breathing grew labored, but he didn’t try to pull away. He was Sanji’s to do with what he pleased, and Zoro knew it.

“Do you want me to hurt you, Mossy?” Sanji asked softly, rubbing his thumb in circles over the chosen spot. “Answer me.”

A shudder tore through Zoro’s form, contracting his muscles even more. He swallowed and let his head tip back against the chair, and the tension slowly drained from his body as he came to terms with the part of him that desired what his mind told him he shouldn’t have. “Yes.”

Sanji rewarded him with a kiss of the lit cigarette, mouth dry as he hungrily drank in the sight of Zoro’s leg muscles convulsing around the point of agony. Only a second, if that, and he was pulling it away again. 

The damage was already evident. A circular burn was left in its wake, small enough that Sanji could cover it with the tip of his pinkie finger. He did so just to hear the air hiss through Zoro’s teeth.

It wasn’t really the act of hurting Zoro that appealed so deeply to Sanji, but the fact that they both knew damn well that if he didn’t want it to happen, he could just snap the ropes. He was bound only as long as he allowed himself to be.

“It didn’t hurt that bad, right? You can handle another.” Sanji murmured as he surveyed Zoro’s body for another viable spot.

Just the one turned Zoro’s breathing ragged, and he shuddered the moment Sanji touched him again, this time on his chest. He didn’t shy away from Sanji’s appreciative groping, tipping his head back further almost as if to push his chest out more.

Sanji rose up onto his knees and pressed himself along Zoro’s body, sliding his hand around his waist to rest against the small of his back. He flicked the cigarette ash off onto Zoro’s leg, then brought the burning embers closer until the heat once again rolled over tan skin.

Chopper’s gonna kill us, he thought absently as he kissed the spot on Zoro’s chest that he was about to mutilate for his own twisted pleasure.

A faint whine fell from the swordsman’s clenched teeth as he intentionally didn’t brace for the pain, letting the full brunt of it hit him unexpectedly. The ropes creaked in protest as he fidgeted, unable to stay still while Sanji hurt him.

Between their bodies, his erection hadn’t wavered a bit. In fact, he was drooling precum on his own stomach as Sanji blew across the fresh burn to ease the sting.

For a man like Zoro, unyielding and untouchable to his enemies, to not only allow Sanji to cause him pain but also to admit in his own way that it hurt, it was a stunning show of trust. Sanji was almost dizzy from the implications of his inaction.

The head rush he got as he dragged his nails down Zoro’s ribs hard enough to raise red lines was intoxicating, and Sanji hummed his appreciation in open mouthed kisses along the scratches. He ended with his face buried in green curls, inhaling the scent of sweat and arousal. 

Zoro’s erection rubbed gently against his stubbled jawline, and he delighted in the way just that tiny bit of stimulation had Zoro gasping for air. The fevered skin was warm on his face, and he could feel the ghost of it long after he pulled away.

“Easy, Marimo. I’m not done with you yet.” This wasn’t just foreplay anymore, it was the main course, and anything he decided to reward Zoro with afterwards would be the dessert. 

Sanji had long since crossed the threshold in his mind that said sex was strictly penetration and orgasms. He knew now that it could be so much more. 

Sex was about experiencing something so strongly that he got tunnel vision, all the unnecessary thoughts in his mind melting away into background noise. Sex was a bruise to be pressed over and over, a full body sensation with limitless ways to cause it.

He remembered his cigarette was useful for more than just making Zoro sweat, and took a drag. The buzz of the nicotine was comparable to the high he got from watching Zoro’s chest redden, rising and falling like crashing waves.

“One more time, okay? I know how you like your threes.” Sanji said from his rather comfortable vantage point between Zoro’s thighs. 

He tapped his target area on the top of Zoro's opposite leg, opting to space each burn far apart. Zoro tensed again, except this time something was off. Maybe it was a miniscule change in his expression, or something subliminal even, but Sanji read the movement as a definitive no.

“You want to stop?” He sat back on his heels and fidgeted with his cigarette, eyes tracing the lines of the ropes to exactly where he would need to cut to undo them. There was a pair of scissors on the bed, and if that wasn't close enough, Zoro’s hands were bound around Wado’s hilt behind his back. “Speak up.”

Instead of relaxing, Zoro somehow managed to wind even tighter. He tilted his head down towards the direction of Sanji’s voice, frowning as he thought about his words carefully. “Not there.”

That was surprising. Zoro often didn't care enough about the details to request anything specific. Examining the chosen spot yielded no answers either, it was just another stretch of unmarked skin.

“Where, then?”

He grunted in irritation, as though it was somehow Sanji’s fault he couldn't just telepathically communicate his desires. “My hip.”

Sanji raised a brow but grabbed the meat directly under Zoro's hipbone anyways, only to be directed to the other side with a jerky nod from the swordsman. He studied it for a minute, thoughts racing and colliding as he tried to work out the mystery behind Zoro’s request.

That was where Zoro’s swords naturally rested on his belt. A slow, inescapable rush of heat swept through Sanji’s core as he exhaled, the significance not lost on him.

“Oh, that's really fucking good.” He sighed as he grabbed at Zoro’s hips, feeling him up just to watch him squirm. “But you'll feel it every time you fight, and it'll probably take forever to heal. Still sounds alright?”

Zoro’s face grew a few shades darker as Sanji spoke, and his cock betrayed exactly how he felt about the idea, pulsing and painfully hard as it draped across his stomach. Yeah, he liked that a lot, apparently.

Smearing fingers through the precum dripping down his abdomen, Sanji finally wrapped his hand around Zoro's cock. He watched with heavy lidded eyes as Zoro fought the urge to buck up into the touch, the muscles in his stomach rolling from the sudden intensity.

“You've made quite a mess.” He said, stroking slowly with the sole intent of spreading the wetness over Zoro's feverish skin. 

Sanji bit the filter of his cigarette as he reached down between his own legs to open his belt, undoing his fly for relief from the aching constraint. He didn't touch himself, though the thought crossed his mind, because he was far more interested in seeing how much Zoro could take before breaking.

Flicking the ash off onto the floor, Sanji pressed ever closer to get the best possible position for the task he had in mind. He brought the cigarette within a hair's breadth of Zoro’s skin, still working his cock as he waited for Zoro to realize it was there.

The second he noticed the uncomfortable heat, preparing himself for it, Sanji took the cigarette away. Zoro frowned and tipped his head towards him in confusion, some of the tension slipping away as he wondered what the hold up was.

“Don't move.” Sanji ordered sharply as he pressed the lit cigarette against Zoro’s hip, his other hand growing rougher with each stroke.

Zoro’s whole body ceased all movement, down to his very breathing as he was forced to experience both the pain and the pleasure as one sensation. His mouth hung open on a silent plea, the flush of his skin darkening all the way down his neck and across his chest.

When Sanji finally pulled it away, the skin was reluctant to let go of the still smoldering cigarette. He didn’t touch the wound left behind, knowing that Zoro would feel the sting for hours just as it was. 

The burn was significantly worse than the other two, a perfect circle dark and irritated around the edges. Zoro’s body was trembling under Sanji’s hand, a muscle jumping along his neck as he tried to hold still. His composure was so close to cracking that Sanji could taste it, relief was only just out of reach.

“Breathe, Zoro.” He whispered, his free hand sliding up Zoro’s torso to feel the exact moment when he gasped for air like he was drowning. “Good, just like that.” 

Sanji didn’t stop touching him, even as the slight tremble turned into a full bodied shake, breathy little gasps falling from Zoro’s bitten lips. Each stroke was aided by the copious amount of precum beading up along the flushed head, so much of it that he was suspicious Zoro had already orgasmed.

With his almost dead cigarette clenched between his teeth, Sanji leaned his cheek against Zoro’s twitching thigh as he turned his full attention to wringing the swordsman dry. 

Ropes creaked and slid across the chair as Zoro fought the pleasure, apparently unaware that he had no choice as to whether he came or not. His hands twisted along Wado’s hilt, the tip of the sheath bumping against the floor.

That position was relatively new, but no less favored by them both. Sanji enjoyed the stark white of Wado’s handle and sheath next to Zoro’s skin, and Zoro liked having something familiar to hold when he was otherwise entirely exposed. The sword cut a crisp line down Zoro’s back, contrasting beautifully with the black cotton ropes.

“Do you enjoy when I hurt you?” Sanji asked, smoke trailing each word. He wiggled the cigarette to knock the ash off onto the seat of the chair between Zoro’s thighs, embers only just missing his bare skin. 

Zoro’s ragged breathing was pleasant to listen to, but not quite the answer he was looking for. Sanji tightened his hand until he was bucking against the hold, a strangled whine torn from deep within his core.

“Answer me.”

He bared his teeth at the order, a level of resistance Sanji had come to expect when they got this far in. Sometimes Zoro needed help giving up the rest of his control. Sometimes he needed it to be taken by force.

Stubbing out the cigarette on the underside of the chair, Sanji shifted to kneel properly as he pushed his hair back. He took the still leaking head of Zoro’s dick into his mouth and sucked, reaching to press cruel fingers against the burn on his hip.

Zoro swore loudly, head thrown back as he tried to force himself deeper into the wet heat of Sanji’s throat. That wasn’t an answer, but it was an omen, the protesting noises of the ropes growing louder with each convulsive shudder tearing through him.

Sanji drew back all at once, wiping the salty taste from his lips as he watched the show. His own erection throbbed when Zoro’s chest heaved on a pitiful whine, dick twitching and drooling heavy drops of pre down onto the seat.

“Well? I’m waiting.”

And then it finally happened. The break. Zoro’s head lolled to the side as he gasped for air, sweat rolling down his face like tears. He went pliant, sinking into the hold of the ropes with a trust only Sanji was privy to.

“Yes,” He mumbled, a string of precum connecting to the little puddle growing on the seat between his legs. “Yes, I- You know I do.”

“Of course, but isn’t it nice to admit it?” Sanji asked, slotting himself in the space made for him once more. He dragged his nails down Zoro’s thighs as the swordsman squirmed, no longer trying to contain how much it was affecting him. “It’s just us, you don’t need to save face.”

Pushing himself up to kiss Zoro roughly, he hooked a finger around the blindfold and pulled it down to rest around his neck. Zoro looked at him like he was the only person in the entire world, like he would eat Sanji alive just to be closer to him.

Sanji stroked him as they remained like that, foreheads together and breathing each others’ air. The ropes strained under Zoro’s attempts to inch closer, threatening to snap just from his neediness. 

He was a sight to behold when he was like that, heavy lidded gaze and soft moans falling from spit slick lips. His muscles tensed and relaxed with each cruel twist of Sanji’s hand, stomach rolling as Sanji rubbed his thumb over the head.

When his free hand brushed over the burn on Zoro’s hip, the most delicious of noises tore from him, a sound so desperate and turned on that he thought Zoro would die if he didn’t touch it again. So he did, pressing his fingers on the edges and keeping away from the actual wound, glancing down only when warmth spilled over his fist.

“Really? Just like that?” He spread the cum until Zoro was flinching and jerking from overstimulation, then carefully licked his hand clean. Zoro watched his tongue with unmistakable, exhausted hunger.

Taking time to do things the hard way was a hell of a lot more rewarding when it finally paid off.

 

The ropes left red indents all over Zoro’s skin, marks that would remain until long after they fell asleep. Sanji massaged the sore muscles of Zoro’s shoulders as the swordsman relaxed deeper into the bed, facedown against the deep red of the duvet.

If he was being honest with himself, Sanji enjoyed the aftermath more than the game sometimes. He liked pampering Zoro in ways not normally allowed, and Zoro often sounded so intimate in that liminal space between fighting and fucking.

“You didn’t get off.”

Sanji hummed as he rubbed more lotion onto his hands, eyes flicking down to the gauze covering the burn on his hip. “I definitely did.”

“Not like that. Why didn’t you cum?” Zoro asked bluntly, not an ounce of shame in his body.

There was a part of him that demanded he defend his honor, offended that Zoro was suggesting he didn’t enjoy their game. He didn’t take the bait for once, choosing instead to remain happily satiated. “I’m satisfied, I just didn’t want to. Does it really matter?”

In spite of his choice to stay calm, Sanji still tensed as he waited for Zoro’s response. He honestly didn’t feel like he needed to orgasm after all that, the thought had crossed and left his mind rather quickly as he opted to untie the ropes.

Zoro reached out blindly to wrap his arm around Sanji’s waist, tugging him closer and yawning loud enough to wake the dead. “Guess not.”

“Wait, let me close the lotion, hang on!”

“Don’t care.”

“Stop- Goddamn it, Zoro!” Sanji looked down at the smear of white lotion across the lap of his pants in defeat. “I didn’t bring anything else to wear, you ass.”

Even with his face smushed down against the bed, the smirk in Zoro’s voice was apparent and unabashed. He tugged on Sanji’s waistband, avoiding the lotion and Sanji’s swatting hand effortlessly. “Shame. Guess you gotta take them off.”

What, did he think Sanji was going to sleep in his slacks? Bastard couldn’t wait a few more minutes? “I hate you.”

“Yeah?”

“Gross, don’t sound so happy about it.” Maybe he melted Zoro’s brain a little too much. Sanji couldn’t bring himself to be that angry about the results, knowing full well he was going to do it again the minute he had the chance. He enjoyed the process too much.

Notes:

Sappy stonedom sadist Sanji.
Say that shit five times fast lol <3 The happiness is stored in big strong surly men being tormented of their own volition. Like yeah, I bet you do want to be made to feel like you're so very breakable, don't you? Isn't it nice to give someone else all that power you constantly carry around?

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 6 of Palette Cleansers