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Zoro leans over the bar counter, body starting to loosen with drink. He's got a guy next to him buying him beer, after beer, and if all goes well he'll be at the man’s feet in just one more.
See, Zoro's got this thing. Call it a kink, call it an oral fixation, but he just fucking loves sucking dick. It gets him into this floaty headspace where all he needs to do is sit and be used. He loves it as foreplay, get him high off dick and then fuck him through it. Sometimes, if someone treats him right, it's good as the main show.
And this guy next to him? This guy's big, his arms the size of Zoro's damn head. He's looking forward to this one.
“Zoro! Hey, Zoroooo!” His captain’s voice cuts through the bar and Zoro groans into his beer. So close. So fucking close.
“You know that guy?” His drinking partner asks.
“Yeah,” Zoro sighs as Luffy's arms grab him from behind, “This is my captain,” he says as Luffy smashes his head into the back of Zoro's.
“Ouch,” Big Guy winces, but Zoro is unaffected.
“What's wrong?” He asks Luffy.
“Nami took all my money!” He pouts.
“Did you lose all your money to Nami?” Zoro asks, eying his captain with suspicion.
To his credit, Luffy manages to hold his stare for all of five seconds before folding, “Zoro! I don't know how to play poker and now I have nothing to buy meat with!”
“I'm not giving you mine,” he needs that money for booze and then whatever’s left for sword cleaning supplies.
“Win me back my money!” Luffy commands.
“What? No!”
Luffy shakes him, “Zoroooo! You're first mate, you gotta!”
How come he’s only first mate when it benefits Luffy? Zoro looks to his drinking partner, and finds a sympathetic smile, “Sounds like your captain needs you.”
Zoro sighs, pushes Luffy off himself, and trudges over to where his crew has been seated. He looks to where Luffy should be following, only to find him chatting up his potential lay.
“Listen, witch,” he growls, hands slamming on the table, “I was this close to taking that guy upstairs so how about you buy Luffy food so he leaves me alone.”
The table, Nami, Usopp, and Sanji, all look past him to the big guy at the bar. Each of their faces contort into some version of unimpressed.
“Zoro, higher your standards and then never tell me about them again,” Usopp pointedly shuffles the cards, tapping them on the table to emphasize the finality of his statement.
Nami sips her drink, eyes scanning the room, “Is there really no one else in this bar you wanna fuck?”
“What’d he do? Buy you booze? You sleep with every guy who buys you booze?” Sanji scoffs.
Zoro slams his palms into the table again, “I didn't ask for judgement!”
“No, but you definitely invited it,” Nami twirls her hair, “Anyway, you're gonna have to earn the captain’s money back fair and square.”
Zoro looks between them and finds no sympathy. He looks back over his shoulder to see that big guy is bowled over the counter laughing as Luffy contorts his arm into a pretzel shape.
“Fuck this,” He growls, “I'm going to the bathroom.”
“What? So you can fuck that guy in the stall?” Sanji calls after him.
Nami sighs, watching him stalk off, “Go make sure he doesn't get lost.”
Sanji slumps, “Nami dear, you know I would never question you, but please don't make me chaperone that guy's hook up.”
“He's trying to go outside, please just go get him,” Nami points to where Zoro has started trying to open a locked side door.
“Oh, for the love of— Be right back,” he sighs, setting his glass down on the table.
In a few quick strides, he meets up with the moss headed idiot before he attempts to knock the door down.
“This way, mossball,” Sanji grabs hold of Zoro's shoulder and shoves him to the back of the building.
“Fuck off,” he grunts, but still follows directions. As he guides Zoro to the bathroom, his eyes fall to their captain talking to Zoro's potential bed partner.
“Are you even attracted to that guy?” Sanji sneers. He looks greasy, like he hasn’t showered in a month.
“The hell you care,” Zoro grumbles.
“I don't, it's just, if that's your taste in men then—”
Zoro slams the bathroom door open, “I'm not attracted to men. I'm attracted to power. Doesn't matter what gender is attached to it.”
That makes Sanji hesitate, feet stilling on the bathroom tile. Zoro stops to turn to him.
“What made you think that guy fit the bill?” Sanji hadn’t noticed anything special about the guy. Seemed like a nice man actually with the way he was laughing with Luffy.
“Big,” Zoro crosses his arms.
“Big?” Sanji repeats.
Zoro nods, “Mhm.”
“Big doesn't mean powerful,” Sanji scoffs, they’ve fought giants who were weaker than Luffy. Zoro should know this more than anyone.
“You don't think he's good enough, curls?” Zoro smirks.
Sanji clicks his tongue and mimics Zoro’s crossed arms, “I'm just saying that without a fight, you don't know how powerful someone is.”
Zoro’s brow raises, “That's not a bad point,” he concedes.
“What?”
Zoro hums, “All the good ones were people I fought or saw fight.”
“How often do you do that?” Sanji balks, mind frantically trying to figure out what Zoro could possibly mean by that.
“Fuck?”
“Have sex with people you fight,” he stresses. This feels very important all of a sudden.
“Oh,” Zoro thinks, “Decently often. Usually at a party or something,” he says far too easily for Sanji’s comfort.
He’s never seen Zoro walk off with someone, let alone someone they fought with. Who the hell has let this ape of a man into their bed?
“You just... What? Proposition them?”
Zoro’s smile cracks manic, “You're asking a lot of questions, cook. You interested?”
“No!” Sanji nearly screams.
“Yeah, you couldn’t do what I want you to do anyway.”
Oh, fuck him! Irritation bubbles up his spine as Zoro gets a dreamy look in his eyes.
“What the hell does that mean?”
Zoro waves him off, cool confidence of a man who, apparently, sleeps with someone at each island they go to, “It's no offense, curls. I like certain things and I don't think you're up for the task.”
Sanji is quickly losing his ability to be rational, “Up for the— I can do whatever weird shit you're into better than some random guy!”
Zoro shakes his head, “You don't even know what you're saying.”
“Try me!”
Zoro steps into his space, threatening if Sanji didn’t face him down like this everyday, “I like getting my face fucked. You're too nice, you can't be mean enough.”
Sanji sputters, face turning red. So many things fly through his head at rapid speed but one thing sticks out, “I can be mean!”
“You still don’t know what you're saying,” Zoro dismisses, like he’s a fucking child.
“I know you're talking bullshit,” he argues. He’s not some shitty virgin, “I can f-fuck your face!”
“Oh?” Zoro smiles, and Sanji fucking hates it.
“Yeah, I would be so nasty about it you'd get addicted,” okay, so he might be talking big talk. He’s never fucked anyone’s face. He can’t do that to a woman and he’s still figuring out his attraction to men, alright?
“Get in the stall,” Zoro commands like there's no other option.
All thoughts leave his head. There’s nothing but Zoro’s words uselessly banging about his skull. Get in the— what? Do— what?
“Huh?”
“Prove me wrong. Get in the stall.”
Sanji glances from Zoro to the toilet stall. He doesn’t have to do this. He knows Zoro will let him back out. But at what cost? His pride wins out as he steps into the enclosed space. Zoro follows behind, closing the door and locking it.
Zoro can’t fucking belive this is happening.
But he’s not about to let the opportunity pass.
He grabs Sanji by the hips, pushing him into the door and then falling to his knees. Zoro’s not going to lie to himself, he’s thought about this before. How could he not? He loves the feeling of powerful hips using his mouth and who’s more powerful than Sanji? Other than himself of course.
He just hopes Sanji is able to follow through.
Zoro looks up and finds Sanji red in the face, the splotchy flush going down his neck and disappearing under his open collar.
“No foreplay?” Sanji tries to be mocking, but the warble in his voice says otherwise.
His hands slide down from Sanji’s hips to his thighs where they give a squeeze, “Not really what I’m here for.”
“Just this?”
“Just this,” Zoro replies and slides his hands back to Sanji’s belt, slowly undoing it, giving the cook a chance to bolt, to kick him, to leave.
But Sanji doesn’t. He lets Zoro unbuckle his belt, his trousers. Lets him pull them down just enough that Zoro can reach in and take out his already hard cock.
Already hard? That doesn’t seem right, but that’s what he has in his hand. He gives it an experimental stroke and Sanji’s hips jerk forward.
When he looks up, Sanji has his hand over his mouth, neck still so disgustingly red.
“You like seeing me on my knees, cook?” Zoro teases with a smirk, trying to pretend he’s not affected by Sanji’s apparent desire.
Sanji glares, uncovering his mouth to respond, “Shut up! You’re gonna suck me off, of course I’ll get like this!”
“I thought it was Usopp’s thing to lie,” Zoro snorts a laugh.
The cook makes a displeased sound and tips his head back, “Don’t bring up our crew.”
Zoro chuckles and decides to save Sanji the embarrassment of admitting he looks good on his knees. He dives in, shoving his nose in the dark curls at the base of his cock and breathing deep. The smell of musky dick and pheromones is enough to get him more than half hard in his pants and he groans into it.
He lets his tongue lave around the base, enjoying the taste of skin mixing with the heady smell of man. Sanji is probably one of the cleaner people he’s done this to, and Zoro finds himself wishing it was after a fight so that he could smell his sweat as a reminder of Sanji’s power.
With mouthing kisses, Zoro works his way up the shaft, shuffling closer on his knees. He reaches down, undoing his pants for easy clean up. If Sanji delivers like he says he can, then Zoro doesn’t want to have to deal with sticky pants. He pulls his dick out, letting it hang in the air and leaving it at that.
Sanji keens into his hand when Zoro licks under the head of his cock. He collects the pre-cum oozing from the tip, the briny taste giving him a hint of what to expect later.
“I want you to make good on your promise, okay cook?” Zoro glances up to see Sanji’s already ruined looking face.
Sanji nods, looking unable to do anything else.
“Put your hands on my head.”
With a deep, shuddering breath, Sanji uncovers his panting mouth and both hands come to hold onto either side of Zoro’s head. They’re too gentle, but they card through his hair with promise.
“Don’t hold back, curls.”
Sanji shudders, eyes wide with both arousal and something like panic.
“I know you can make it good for me,” Zoro tells him, hoping the encouragement can override whatever mixed emotions Sanji is experiencing.
“Fuck— Zoro I—!”
He takes Sanji in his mouth, bobbing a few times to coat the shaft in his spit. Whatever Sanji was going to say is lost to the wet sounds of Zoro’s mouth. Once the drag is eased, he takes Sanji to the root, relaxing his throat until his cock snuffs out his ability to breath.
He stays there, vision blurry and barely hearing the sinful noises that escape Sanji’s lips. The cook’s fingers start scrubbing at his scalp as he bows over. When the need to breath gets too bad, he pulls back until his airway is open enough to suck oxygen in through his nose.
And then he sets his rhythm.
Sanji above him is holding his head tight, but it’s still not what he wants. What he needs is for the cook to take control, to take the next step. He’s long since gotten over people’s reaction to his deep throating, he knows it’s impressive, that’s not what he’s here for.
He looks up to glare at Sanji, to try and canjole him into fucking him right, but just as he does, something drops onto his scared eye. His vision takes a second to focus, and when it does he finds Sanji’s flushed, gasping face, blood dripping down from his nose.
Zoro has long since gotten over how people react to his blow jobs, but no one has ever bled over him. Zoro groans over the cock in his mouth, hips bucking into nothing and he fucking hates it. Why is that so hot? Why is the cook’s stupid nosebleed making him desperate? He grabs onto the looser fabric around Sanji’s hips to steady himself.
Sanji watches Zoro buck up again, his dripping cock bouncing in the air as his moan sends vibrations straight to Sanji’s core. Fuck, he looks so good and Sanji really needs to come to his senses because he talked a lot of shit and now he’s just pathetically bleeding on Zoro's face.
Zoro said he wants his face fucked. Zoro thinks he can make it good. He’s got to get a damn grip or this is going to end in embarrassment on his end. He’ll never hear the end of it.
He gives a testing thrust, fingers tightening in Zoro’s hair. Zoro stills at the pressure, eye flicking up and pleading. He tries again, dragging Zoro’s head to meet his hips and Zoro’s eye rolls back as he bottoms out.
“Fuck, you really like this,” he whispers and Zoro’s fingers tighten in his pants, encouraging him to go harder, faster. And he does, finding a rhythm and fucking into Zoro’s waiting throat over and over again.
Zoro’s hands slowly lose their strength, releasing Sanji’s pants and falling to hang limply between his thighs. He doesn’t touch himself like Sanji thought he might, just relaxes into the sensation and lets himself be used.
It’s an overwhelming sensation, knowing that Zoro is the one allowing this, knowing what this man is capable of, what he’s already done. He’s got the first mate of the future pirate king on his knees and he promised to make it nasty.
“You still there, marimo?” he asks one of his hands coming down to cup Zoro’s jaw. The swordsman opens his eye, his lashes fluttering with his breath as Sanji pulls out and then chases the oxygen with his leaking cock. A shaking hand finds his ankle, a squeeze in response.
“You feel so good, baby,” Sanji pants, his fingers petting over Zoro’s cheek. Zoro blinks rapidly, his features stunching up with something Sanji can’t guess at.
“So cute while I fuck your pretty face,” Sanji sighs, and he’s not sure where the words are coming from. It might be muscle memory, he’s only slept with women anyway, and that might be a good excuse. But the reality is that when he thrusts into Zoro’s face, there’s a moment when his cheeks are full and Sanji honestly does find him cute.
Zoro groans, eye rolling back as the words wash over him. He’s not pretty, he’s not cute, he likes it when his bed partners are cruel to him, call him names and degrade him. He’s not fucking cute! He’s getting his face fucked because he likes being used.
And Sanji’s using him, keeps his hips thrusting deep in his throat. Its such a thrill, he’s so painfully hard, the only relief he gets is the strain when it bobs from the force of Sanji fucking into him.
Sanji’s fingers brush over his ear, over his piercings and the touch is like a brand, tingling from the top of his scalp and down his spine, “Do you like that, baby? Do you like being pretty for me?”
Zoro doesn’t, but his hips still seek friction in the air. He’s feeling so good, the burn in his throat, the ache in his jaw, all reminding him that he’s human, that he’s real, that he’s here. Even as his mind detaches from his body, floats away with his limited oxygen that Sanji controls. His fingers around Sanji’s ankle tighten before slipping away. He forces strength back into them, scrambling to get a hold of the pressed material of Sanji’s trousers.
“Look at you,” Sanji moans, “Are you going to cum without me touching you?”
Zoro can’t respond, but he looks up, eyes struggling to focus. Even as he fucks his face, Sanji’s fingers are soft on his cheek, his ear, they wipe away the tears spilling without his permission. He’s not sadistic, he’s not nasty. He’s still using Zoro but it's couched in a softness that has Zoro squirming, stomach flexing and cock bobbing. He’s close, he’s so fucking close.
There’s a whine deep in his chest as Sanji’s nails scratch through his hair, his nose still bleeding. It drips, splattering his face with red, tinging his oxygen with iron.
“Be a good boy and show me how much you love this,” Sanji smiles, fucking smiles.
Oh, fuck!
Sanji’s voice rings through his head, his hips thrust as he falls over the edge. His hand finds Sanji’s ankle again, grip tight as he spills over the bathroom floor, dribbling pathetically. He cries around Sanji’s dick, pulse in his ears.
Sanji can hear the splatter of spunk on the tiles as if the visual of Zoro cumming while his throat constricts around Sanji’s cock wasn’t enough.
“Good job, baby—” he pants, “Ah— So good—!”
Zoro’s eyes roll freely, body limp as Sanji cums down his throat. He holds him close, grinding his hips. Zoro’s tongue works on the underside of his cock as he swallows, spit and cum drooling out the corners of his mouth. He’s filthy.
He’s perfect.
Sanji pulls out and Zoro inhales oxygen like it’s laced with something. He sways, brows drawn tight as he gulps air, and Sanji does what he can to keep him upright. It’s difficult to do standing and he doesn’t think much of crouching down to take Zoro in his arms.
Zoro falls into Sanji’s chest and it takes him a few seconds to understand he’s being held. His head is like air, floaty, and soft and, and...
Safe.
He’s safe as Sanji holds him tight, fingers brushing through his hair and his voice murmuring things Zoro can’t understand. He feels so good, better than he ever has. Zoro’s fingers regain their strength and fist into the cook’s shirt, clinging to him like a lifeline.
It could be minutes, it could be hours, but he starts coming down, slowly, piece by piece. He lifts his head from Sanji’s shoulder and finds his eyes. His face is smeared with blood and his hair is sweaty and Zoro’s heart catches on something a little more fond than crewmate.
“Hey, sweetheart. Do I have you again?” Sanji smiles and it’s so nice and soft and— shit.
Zoro hides his face in Sanji’s neck because his legs are still numb from being on his knees for so long, “Fuck off,” he grumbles.
Sanji chuckles and holds him tighter, “No, you still have to give me a review.”
“Terrible.”
“Uh-uh.”
“I knew you’d be too nice,” he mumbles.
Sanji's fingers start scratching through his hair, “Are you usually this cute after sex?”
Zoro punches him in the shoulder the best he can, it just makes Sanji laugh harder.
“You’re so annoying.”
“I don’t have to stay here.”
Zoro jerks his head back to make eye contact with Sanji. His brow set in a mean scowl as he tries to sit up while still being bracketed by the cook’s legs.
“I don’t know what the fuck that was,” he confesses. Sanji’s arms settle lower on his back, but still hold him close.
Sanji’s visible eyebrow shoots up, “Which part?”
Which part, indeed. Zoro could ask so many questions; why did you look at me like you liked me? Why do you keep calling me cute? Why did it feel so good to be taken care of like that?
“Why did you talk to me like that?”
Sanji opens his mouth to speak and then thinks better of it, choosing instead to think a little more. Why did he talk like that?
It’s Sanji’s turn to flush, “Felt good.”
Zoro blinks at him and yeah, that’s probably not what he wanted to hear. But Sanji doesn’t know what else to say. Something took over him and left him with a man trembling at his feet and all he could do was give him compliments.
“Look, does it matter? Okay— I couldn’t be mean,” he shrugs, “You got off anyway.”
Zoro looks conflicted, face scrunched up and cute. God, Zoro’s always been a little cute, hasn't he?
“Do it again.”
Sanji’s heart tries to make a quick exit through his throat, “What? There’s no way! We have to get back or people are going to start asking questions.”
“Later then.”
“You want me to—” he gestures between them.
“Fuck my face and talk like that again,” Zoro’s staring him down, determined like he just found a new challenge and is going to stop at nothing to conquer it. Sanji knows that look well.
Sanji can’t find words that feel suitable, nothing seems to encompass the knowledge that Zoro liked what they did and wants it again.
“I need to know if it’s a fluke,” he insists.
Zoro’s going through an identity crisis. He’s always liked it rough, liked to push his body to it’s limits, liked when people were vicious. Really, fucking mean. He wants to be little more than an object during sex and yet Sanji spoke to him like... Fuck, he doesn’t know but he needs to hear it again.
“Please,” he's not begging. He's being polite.
“Holy shit, okay,” Sanji breathes, “Who am I to turn down a damn blow job?”
“And you’ll treat me like that again?” because that’s the important part.
Sanji smirks and Zoro’s stomach drops, “Yeah, I’ll treat you real nice, my pretty marimo—”
Zoro uses Sanji’s face as a brace to stand, putting his weight on his forehead to hoist himself up. Sanji squeaks, sputtering as tries to keep upright.
“Fucking put your dick away, shitty swordsman,” he grumbles, smacking Zoro in his leg as he stands as well.
“Oh,” he tucks himself away, “Should probably clean the floor, too.”
He grabs a fist full of toilet paper and throws it by their feet, using his boot to mop up his mess. He then picks up the dirty wad and flushes it, wiping his hand on his pants. His attention returns to Sanji to find him staring. Zoro’s heart stumbles, they’re so close and there’s still a little bit of a sex high and—
“You’re fucking disgusting.”
“So now you’re mean?” he grins.