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Zoro shouldn’t be in his damn galley.
It’s the middle of the night. The rest of the crew are enjoying themselves at the latest port town, leaving Zoro with watch duty. Sanji would be enjoying himself, but he had to check some of his stock levels one more time before they leave.
Unfortunately, Zoro’s decided to shrink his watch duty for what is inevitably a late-night pantry raid. Sanji can see Zoro’s silhouette through the galley window, his familiar hair and huge former lingering just inside.
What an annoying infestation.
Sanji reminds himself that he’s walked into worse sights in his galley. Zoro annoys him on the best of days, and infuriates him on his worst, but even then Zoro’s not his worst option.
His top contender for the worst heinous crime committed in his kitchen is finding his fridge completely upside down, like Luffy had the thought to put the fridge back after raiding it but not the sense to put it the right way up. His next contender is finding a jar of bait Usopp left out in the night open, leaving the entire counter crawling with a carpet of horrid little bugs.
The memory makes him shudder. Zoro, while infuriating, has nothing on bugs.
Yet here Zoro sits in Sanji’s galley, ass on Sanji’s counter and surely consuming Sanji’s hidden stock of cooking wine. It irritates Sanji to no end– can’t he just accept the booze Sanji’s given him and not go for more? Sanji knows how much he can drink, he portions it out, Zoro should have some restraint.
With little fanfare, Sanji storms into the galley, letting the door slam into the wall behind it for dramatic effect. It hits with a loud, echoing thud, the handle smashing into the wall in a mess Franky’ll be sure to yell at him for.
Zoro doesn’t even flinch.
“You’re not supposed to be back,” Zoro says, frowning ever so slightly. The bastard doesn’t even sound remorseful.
“And you’re not supposed to be in the kitchen, you–” Sanji starts, then he eyes what’s on the counter. His breath stutters in his throat. No way is Zoro eating that, of all things. “You… you…”
On the counter is an inconspicuous box of chocolates wrapped in frilly pink paper. The paper is torn open down the side roughly, and the lid of the box sits on the table forlorn and discarded. Eyes widening, Sanji notes that two of the chocolates inside the box are already missing.
His blood goes cold.
It’s a familiar box of chocolates he received as a parting gift from Momoiro Island, a box he couldn’t bring himself to throw away due. Why they gave him… that, of all things, he’ll never know, but he isn’t going to waste food, no matter how uncouth. Instead, he kept it locked away where he’s sure not even Luffy would find it, trapped behind several layers of protection no one should ever have access to.
And here Zoro is. Ripping into the horrible chocolates like they’re nothing.
Sanji reconsiders his galley situations rankings. No, this tops even the bugs; Sanji has never walked into a worse sight.
“What the hell are you eating,” he says in an even, icy deadpan.
Zoro grabs another chocolate from the box. A protest strangles its way out of Sanji’s throat, futile and dying, like the last flop of a suffocating fish as it hits the deck dead. Zoro pops the chocolate into his mouth, his expression undeniably smug.
“Couldn’t find the booze,” Zoro states with his mouth open. He cracks the chocolate open with his teeth, sticks his tongue out to show the evidence of his crimes, then swallows the entire thing whole. “Found the next best thing.”
“You don’t like chocolate,” Sanji says.
Maybe this is a nightmare, and he just has to find the right logical fallacy to wake himself up. It isn’t working. Not yet.
“These have booze in them, right? And before you kick me for wasting food or whatever, I’m still eating the chocolate. Doesn’t taste half bad.”
It’s not booze in the chocolates. It’s definitely not booze in the chocolates. Sanji flushes, not finding the words to explain that, not without giving Zoro ample ammunition.
No, Sanji needs to nip this in the bud. Immediately. No question asked. He has to prevent Zoro from eating any more of them. He has no idea why they haven’t affected the man yet, it must be his ridiculous level of tolerance for alcohol and all matters of poisons, but there’s no way in hell he’ll test Zoro’s limit any further.
Scrambling, Sanji falls head over foot to try and snatch the box from Zoro. In his infinite wisdom utilized solely for ruining Sanji’s life, Zoro lifts the box over his head before Sanji can reach it.
“Oi, cook! What, mad I found your secret stash?”
With a high-pitched whine, Sanji jumps up onto the bar railing for the added height and grasps for the box. His fingertips just touch the tip of it before Zoro pulls away, and Sanji’s so desperate for the package he loses his balance and falls straight onto the counter.
His cheek hits the cold counter, his face smashed into it. He still snarls, but he’s sure some of the effect is lost. “I’m going to kill you,” Sanji says, pulling himself up on the counter by his elbows.
Zoro grins above him, holding the box triumphantly above his head.
“I mean it! Those aren’t– you can’t eat those! You’ll–” he tries, he really tries to think of something other than the truth that’ll dissuade Zoro from eating the damn chocolates, “-you’ll lose all your teeth. You wouldn’t be able to hold your swords anymore… Probably.”
“What? It’s not poison,” Zoro says with the utmost confidence. “You wouldn’t keep poison.”
The confidence in any other situation would be touching.
“It’s not poison, but…” He doesn’t want to explain this. He looks up at the ceiling, trying to count the planks. One, two, three… “It’s not alcohol, either.”
“Uh-huh, not making a good case here, cook. Tastes like alcohol. Burns like it, too.”
“I just said it’s not alcohol, idiot!” He takes one breath in, trying to steady his tone from its frantic high pitch. “Just put the box away.”
Zoro huffs, and Sanji can visualize his glare, even as Sanji continues staring up at the ceiling. “No. Finders keepers,” he says.
“You do not want to eat that, moron!”
Is the truth the only thing that will keep Zoro away? His hands feel cold, his sense dulled, like he’s gone into shock. Maybe he has.
“It’s an aphrodisiac,” Sanji says evenly, his voice unnatural to his own ears. “You’re eating an aphrodisiac.”
Zoro tilts his head to the side. “A what?”
What the hell, Zoro. Is he just trying to get under his skin? “I don’t– if you don’t know I don’t have to explain,” Sanji sputters.
“If you don’t explain I’ll eat another one–”
“Stop! Stop,” Sanji flails, closing his eyes and sucking in one sharp breath. “It’s a drug that makes you horny,” he says, words coming out in a too fast jumble of a sentence.
The words sit between them. Zoro finally sets the box of chocolates down, the noise the only signal Sanji has. The words sink in, though, because even though Sanji’s not looking he can feel the rise in icey tension in the room.
“You. Why the hell would you have that you useless pervert–”
Of course he assumes the worst. “I wasn’t going to give it to anyone! It was a gift! It was a gift,” Sanji explains quickly, his entire face red. “But I couldn’t throw it away! I just– I couldn’t throw it away, it’s– it’s…”
He has no idea how to explain himself there. Any sane person, any sane, non-horrible bastard would throw the things away, but Sanji can’t. Not when they’re still technically edible.
“So you kept them on board?! With Luffy?!”
Sanji scoffs, grateful for the distraction. “In several safes! Several. But just in case I had to– in case the worst– I couldn’t–” he balks, trying to divert the accusation back to Zoro. “Why the hell would you eat something that’s locked in several safes?!”
“I thought you were hiding the booze from me!”
“It’s not booze! It’s horny chocolate! It’s horny chocolate, you dumb bastard.”
He finally looks back at Zoro, expecting to find an indignant anger on his face. Instead, his face is just slightly flushed, with a familiar tinge of annoyance.
“So you weren’t going to try and feed them to anyone? None of the girls?”
Sanj slams a foot down on the counter, relishing as Zoro jumps at the move. “Of course not! I didn’t expect anyone to eat them, not unless we had to! And that includes you on your stupid midnight rendezvous, asshole!”
His piece said, Sanji waits for Zoro to respond. Instead, though, Zoro leans back to the counter, his shoulder just brushing against Sanji’s thigh. He freezes at the contact at first, then leans in, looking between Sanji’s leg and the box of chocolates.
“Well,” Zoro says slowly, “It doesn’t matter. Tastes good.”
Then, the bastard picks up one more chocolate and tosses it into his mouth.
“Don’t keep eating them you moron!”
Zoro laughs, not heeding Sanji’s flushed warnings whatsoever. Instead, he grins at Sanji, casually, like he hadn’t just eaten several doses of a powerful aphrodisiac in one sitting.
“Guess they lied about the chocolates to you, though,” Zoro says. Sanji watches as he swallows, his fingers clenching and unclenching at his sides. “I don’t feel anything.”
Sanji eyes him up and down, lingering way too long at Zoro’s crotch for any sign that he’s lying. The fabric of his pants is too thick for Sanji to tell. By the time he looks back up, Zoro’s slightly flushed, but that’s the only sign he’s affected by the chocolates at all.
“Huh,” Sanji says. He looks at the chocolates warily, wondering if they had an expiration date. Or maybe Zoro’s inhumane liver means even Momoiro’s most powerful aphrodisiacs don’t work on him. “Maybe they’re expired. That’s.. That’s good.”
That’s a relief. That’s a monumental relief, he can just shove the chocolates under the counter never to be seen again. Better yet, Zoro can eat them one by one and he can never worry about them. It’ll have to be over a long range of time, just to make sure he never actually feels the full effects of the aphrodisiacs, but if he’s careful about it–
Zoro pops another one into his mouth.
“You moronic bastard! Even if you say that it doesn't affect you…” Sanji has no idea what the hell is in those things. He never wanted to find out. He doesn’t want to test Zoro’s limits, not like this. “You’re really going to test that out?!”
Even as Sanji struggles to take the box away from Zoro, overpowers him, intent on using his own fighting prowess just to piss Sanji off.
“What, you worried about me? Told you, shitcook, these don’t affect me at all,” he says, showing him the chocolate crushed on his tongue yet again. The thick, red liquid center is still visible on the tip. Sanji blinks dumbly as Zoro closes his mouth and the view is gone.
“Bet it’d knock you on your ass though, lightweight.”
Sanji sputters. “What the hell are you talking about? I said they were expired, not that you were immune to them. They wouldn’t knock me on my ass. They wouldn’t knock anyone on their ass.”
“Oh yeah?” Zoro says, picking up one of the chocolates from the box. He cracks the shell between his teeth this time, the bright red liquid seeping down his lip. Zoro swipes his tongue over it before any reaches his chin. “Prove it, shitcook.”
He holds out the box right in front of Sanji’s face.
Snarling, Sanji picks up two of the chocolates and shoves them in his mouth. The outer chocolate shell is coated in what tastes like a rich, dark chocolate powder, and the shell itself is equally bitter. The filling inside is tart, with a sharp burn like downing a shot without a chaser.
The burn shocks Sanji enough he nearly chokes, the red filling seeping out from the corner of his lip. Stubbornly, he doesn’t want Zoro to have the up on him even in this, so he wipes sauce on the corner of his thumb and licks that clean.
He can see why Zoro likes these; it suits his flavor profile just fine, especially with the burn of the filling inside. It’s a bitter dessert and strong drink in one, tiny package.
“Now are you happy?!” Sanji pushes the box away from Zoro, just in case the man decides to eat another. Sanji frowns; he definitely already decided to eat another.
Zoro watches him carefully, the low light of the galley turning his gaze dark. Sanji swallows, his tongue suddenly feeling thick in his mouth.
“So do you feel anything?” Zoro asks.
Feel anything? No, he doesn’t, not really, but– that’s a lie. There’s a low shiver down his spine, and it’s like he can feel every point of contact his clothes make with his skin. If he as much as moves the friction between the rough fabric meeting his skin sets his nerves on fire.
“You’re right, these things are expired. I don’t feel shit,” Sanji lies, ignoring how his own face heats.
Sanji keeps his own growing discomfort under wraps, though, even as Zoro offers him spiked chocolate after chocolate. It’s a facsimile of a peace offering; Zoro’s giving these to him as an apology for stealing from Sanji, but each and every bite of chocolate and the horrible filling inside heightens his senses.
He’s still sure to eat more of the damn chocolates than Zoro, just to prove the moron wrong. So what if he’ll have a problem to deal with when Zoro finally gets bored, he can handle that himself, in the bathroom, alone.
At least, Sanji thinks he can handle that problem later. With each minute that passes by, he’s less and less sure of himself, especially as he starts feeling hot under the collar and unable to cool down whatsoever. He tries uselessly to loosen his tie subtly, but his fingers shake around the knot of his tie, so he gives up before he even really starts.
“How many of those did you eat?” Sanji questions; there’s only one remaining. He counts the number of chocolates he’s eaten in his head; he’s up to eleven, now, and something in the back of his mind tells him that’s too many.
Zoro narrows his eye. “Dunno, about eleven,” he says.
“Really,” Sanji says. His hands twitch as he eyes the box and its lone remaining chocolate.
Unfortunately, Zoro does too, his grin wide as he plucks the last chocolate out of the box and into his mouth. “Guess I win,” he says, like it was a competition to begin with.
It wasn’t a competition, Sanji should be glad they’re through the box, he should go to the pantry or the bathroom or anywhere private to deal with his growing problem by himself, but Zoro has the thing between his teeth, ready to bite down and take his victory, looking way too fucking smug.
“No, you don’t get to win,” Sanji says, then surges forward and tackles him to the ground.
With a grunt of shock, Zoro falls in an inelegant thump on the floor with Sanji on top of him. Sanji’s protected from the brunt of the fall by Zoro’s chest, and he tries not to think about that for too long. Instead, he thinks about finding a way to snatch the chocolate out of Zoro’s mouth.
“Oi, shitcook, the hell-” Zoro protests loudly, and it’s a miracle he doesn’t bite down on the chocolate. Instead, he grasps fruitlessly at Sanji, trying to pull him off. His hands push up at Sanji’s chest, nearly shoving him off.
Well, Sanji can’t have that. Grabbing Zoro’s wrists, Sanji slams them down onto the floor and pins Zoro to the ground under him. He watches for one moment as Zoro’s hands clench and unclench, properly trapped by the wrist to the floor, then eyes the chocolate between his teeth.
Zoro bites down. The tart, aphrodisiac syrup seeps out of the chocolate onto his lip, and hell if Sanji is going to let Zoro win this.
“That’s mine,” Sanji growls, then surges forward to grab the chocolate with his mouth.
There’s a strangled groan as he does, but Sanji swallows the noise easily. Nipping at the bottom of Zoro’s lip, Sanji dips his tongue between Zoro’s open lips to find the chocolate. It’s half cracked open, seeping into Zoro’s mouth, but Sanij’s going to have the last bite, even if it kills him.
Zoro finally stops trying to squirm under him, so Sanji lets go of his wrists to dig his hand in his hair. He digs his nails in for a better angle, pressing Zoro’s head back into the floorboards. That’s better, he’s compliant now, the only sign of protest being a low, noisy groan Sanji’s never heard him make before.
It rings loud in Sanji’s ears, and an irrational, desperate part of his brain wants to hear it again.
That’s not the problem now, though, now Sanji needs that chocolate. Sanji continues bullying his tongue into Zoro’s mouth, using the groan as an invitation to collect his prize. With a flick of the tongue, Sanji takes the candy away from Zoro, biting down and swallowing before Zoro could fight back.
The familiar bitter chocolate and tart filling hits his tongue, but he doesn’t stop kissing Zoro. Not when he’s so pliant under him, and not when rational thought’s been replaced with an unrelenting and irrational need. Sanji’s chest tightens at every groan under him, tugging at Zoro’s hair as if to release some of that unbearable pressure.
Hands grasp at his thighs, and it takes all of Sanji’s concentration not to shudder at the touch. The hands ground him back into reality, the pain of their grip on his legs cutting through the hazy desperation and heat. Finally pulling away, Sanji pants loudly, trying to catch his breath, and peers down at the sight below him.
Zoro blinks up at him, dumbstruck and bewildered. His lips are bright red with both the tart chocolate filling and his own blood, his tongue and equally bright red just behind. Hair sticks up unevenly on his head, properly mussed and out of place, even for Zoro’s normal mess. It’s a good look on him, vulnerable and pliant.
It’s a sharp contrast to the unfamiliar dark look in his eyes, something hazy and dangerous. Zoro’s pants are heavy, and warm, and Sanji can feel every breath, in and out, in and out, as his legs press against the thick muscle of Zoro’s chest.
Finally, the reality of what Sanji did hits him; he’s making out with Zoro on the floor of the galley like some untrained dog, practically straddling him on the floor, and Zoro’s only protest is a pair of hot hands gripping tight to his thighs. There’s a relentless pull for Sanji to continue, and Sanji has to resist that tug with every fiber of his being.
He pants, licks his lips clean of the chocolate filling, and watches as Zoro follows the movement. Fresh blood drips onto Zoro’s face, and with a start Sanji realizes it’s coming from his own nose as he leans over Zoro. Drip, drip, drip, the blood lands on Zoro’s cheek, slowly pooling down his face and onto his upper lip.
Oh, Sanji has made a terrible mistake.
There’s one, long moment where Zoro finally sheds that dumb look on his face and his expression turns analytical and calculating. Finally, he licks blood off his upper lip, lips pulling into a wide smirk, and Sanji knows he’s well and truly fucked up.
“Hah. So you are affected by these, aren’t you, shitcook? The horny drugs made you horny.”
Yanking his hands away, Sanji returns to trying to undo his own tie. It’s suddenly way too hot in the galley, especially with Zoro’s hands still on his thighs. He tries to squirm away, but Zoro doesn’t let him, keeping them both on the floor. If he grinds down just right he could get off like this, but he tries not to think about that.
“I’m not,” Sanji protests. It’s still too damn hot. His fingers catch in the knot of his tie, the corner of his nail digging into the fabric. “I was just– how else was I going to get the last bite?”
Removing his tie is a struggle because with each and every pull the fabric presses into the nape of his neck and sends shivers down his spine. It feels like the only thing keeping him upright are Zoro’s hands, and hell if that’s a place Sanji wants to be in.
He’s struggling to order words into a sentence when Zoro presses one hand to his forehead.
The sound Sanji makes can’t be human; it’s a desperate keen he cuts off immediately, biting down on his tongue until it bleeds. He doesn’t know what Zoro expects to garner from his temperature, but the noise he made is enough of a signal into how irrevocably fucked Sanji is.
Zoro eyes him carefully. “Shit, are you really that…?”
“‘M fine,” Sanji says. “Fuck off.”
Unfortunately, Zoro does not fuck off. Instead, he pulls Sanji back up to his feet, leaning him against the counter like he’s an inanimate object. He might as well be, with how his legs feel like jelly under him. Once Sanji’s fully upright, Zoro grabs at the chocolate box behind him, flipping it over to peer at the back of it.
From the corner of his eye, Sanji sees Iva’s loopy cursive on the back of the box. Some kind of instructions, he guesses. Sanji never bothered to read them because he never wanted to think about having to eat the damn things.
“Cook,” Zoro starts, his voice uncharacteristically nervous. “How many did you eat? Eleven?”
There’s a familiar heat up the back of Sanji’s neck, this time thankfully embarrassment rather than arousal. “Twelve. You had eleven,” he corrects. “I won, shithead.”
With an unimpressed snort, Zoro continues peering at the back of the box. He mutters something under his breath, something Sanji can’t quite make out. “Hey, how much do you weigh?”
“What– I don’t see why you need to know that,” Sanji starts. “Probably more than you– wait, hey!”
Zoro grabs him by the middle, one strong hand gripping tight into Sanji’s side. He has to bite down on his bottom lip hard to avoid yelping or worse, his previous tirade forgotten as the sensation of Zoro’s fingers digging into his side erases any sane thought in his head.
Then, as if he were picking up a bundle of bananas, Zoro lifts Sanji to the air with one arm. All Sanji can do is flail uselessly, Zoro concentrating on him with way too much attention. His brows furrow, examining Sanji carefully while looking back between him and the back of the box.
“Hah– Zoro, mosshead, what the hell do you think you’re doing–” Sanji says, just barely managing to keep his voice together.
“Maybe these weren’t expired,” Zoro says. “You ate double the amount you should’ve for how much you weigh.”
“You can’t accurately guess that!” Sanji tries to kick Zoro in retaliation, but he only manages one weak kick that doesn’t even phase Zoro. “I’m feeling fine! Just like you. Fuck off.”
Zoro’s other hand grips Sanji’s waist, the contact white-hot even through the layer of fabric. The contact shocks a low keen out of Sanji, unable to keep the sound caught in his throat. He feels a shudder go down his spine, only biting his lip when Zoro presses his fingers into his hips even further.
Head tilting back, Sanji’s breath stutters out unevenly. He counts the planks of the ceiling, only ever making it to five before something distracts his over-sensitive body into a shudder of a reaction, and he starts counting planks again.
This isn’t going like he planned. How the hell was Zoro so put together? Even if he could eat double what Sanji could without turning into… this, he had to feel something, right? Sanji grits his teeth, ignoring how hot arousal pools in his stomach if Sanji as much as moves.
“-itbrow,” comes a voice through. “Oi, shitbrow, are you even listening to me?!”
Sanji’s head lulls back to center. He blinks in a daze as he tries to get his eyes to focus, not realizing how much his vision blurred before. Zoro’s right in front of him, way too close, his face pinched as he stares straight through Sanji. At some point he’d set Sanji down on the counter, his legs dangling down toward the floor.
“Say something important if you want me to pay attention to your bullshit,” Sanji manages to say. “I’m not in the mood.”
A hot breath hits Sanji’s face. Zoro’s breath smells terrible, like he hasn’t brushed his teeth in days, and it’s enough to make Sanji re-focus.
Zoro’s face is pinched with concern, a light sweat on his forehead as he stares Sanji down. His one eye catalogs him up and down and his fists clench at his sides.
“I can’t look that bad,” Sanji says.
He doesn’t know if he’s right. Zoro’s serious expression doesn’t leave, but there’s an unfamiliar blown out look to his eyes. “You look like shit,” he says hoarsely. “According to the box, you’ve got two options– throw up…”
“No,” Sanji protests immediately. Absolutely not. He’s kept this poison of a chocolate in his stomach for this long, he’s not going to make himself throw up.
He’ll just go with the other option. He opens his mouth to voice as much, and–
“...or get off,” Zoro concludes.
–and he snaps his mouth shut.
“Hmm,” Sanji hums. Zoro finally moves away from him enough to bring his concentration back in bits and pieces, enough that he can see a bright red flush high on Zoro’s cheeks. He’s still close enough to bracket Sanji on the counter, but far enough his arms keep away from Sanji’s sides.
That should be easy enough. Sanji didn’t want to spend their time in port jacking off in the bathroom alone, but hell if he wants to throw up or, god forbid, work himself into such a state he needs Chopper to check up on him.
“Well, it has to be get off, right?”
Zoro makes a choked noise, pulling away from Sanji at a near-inhumane speed. His mouth hangs open enough that Sanji can see the back of Zoro’s red-stained tongue.
“Don’t be such a prude! I’ll just go to the bathroom and get it over with,” Sanji says. It’ll take him a moment since his legs currently feel like liquid, actually, but he’ll find a way.
With a long, measuring look, Zoro leans forward again, one arm returned to hold himself up against the counter. From his position he has to look up at Sanji, but somehow it still leaves him feeling like a pinned bug.
“Cook, you nearly passed out from me putting you on the counter,” Zoro reasons.
“Don’t give yourself that much credit!”
Sanji tries to move away, but any movement rumples the thick fabric of his dress shirt just enough that it catches on his nipple. He grips the counter under his fingertips like it’s the only thing keeping him centered.
“I can get off myself! I don’t need your help, mosshead,” he tries.
Another sharp intake of breath. “I don’t think you can,” Zoro says.
Sanji has to prove himself, then. With a desperate maneuver, he struggles with the buckle of his belt, making sure to avoid as much contact as possible. Now that those are off, he unbuttons his pants, ignoring how his face heats as he pulls his own leaking cock out of the elastic of his underwear.
He barely gets one stroke down before he shudders, concentration leaving him like boiled water from a kettle. Groaning, Sanji’s hand twitches, and he suddenly finds himself useless, too over-stimulated to even get off. His head falls forward into something warm, and with muted horror he realizes it’s Zoro’s shoulder.
“It’s just an offer,” Zoro says. His voice is a low rumble and it has Sanji shuddering, eyelids fluttering shut. He can just concentrate on that for now, trying to ignore the desperate need to get off. “Weren’t half bad with your mouth earlier.”
He doesn’t need to be reminded about that.
“Not half bad? You looked pathetic. You looked…” hot, Sanji’s brain supplies unhelpfully, and it refuses to supply any other word. He pulls back just to look Zoro in the eye as he glares. “You’re just mad I had you pinned down.”
Zoro’s breath hitches and the dark look from before is back.
He’s beginning to get the feeling that Zoro isn’t as unaffected as he says, and there’s an irrational pull for Sanji to unravel the man as much as he possibly can.
“You’re looking pretty pathetic right now, cook.”
Says the man practically panting on him. No way in hell. If Zoro won’t admit he’s just as horny out of his mind, Sanji will make him.
Sanji snarls, desperately holding himself upright as “You know what? Fine. Only because this is your damn fault.”
He ignores his instinct to pull towards Zoro’s grip on the counter, instead keeping his distance with whatever restraint he has. Sanji’s going to force Zoro’s hand, he’s not going to be the one to fold first.
“My fault, huh?” Zoro says. He finally, finally touches Sanji again, his thumb just lightly touching the sliver of skin between his untucked shirt and boxers. The roughness of his thumb moves back and forth, back and forth, but refuses to press in like before.
The keen Sanji makes is pathetic, as is the way his heart rackets in his chest when Zoro smirks. “Hurry up.”
Ever the contrary bastard, Zoro keeps barely touching him, his hands just ghosting over Sanji’s skin as he pulls the waistband of Sanji’s pants down under his ass. He doesn’t get the point, his dick’s already out, but Zoro’s determined to shed Sanji’s pants off and he can’t even complain.
The light touch continues down Sanji’s legs, leaving goosebumps in their wake. By the time his pants hit the floor, Sanji’s holding on to the counter with white-knuckled fists, the only thing on his brain other than mindless want being the stubborn need to show Zoro up.
“What the hell’s taking so long, you stupid– hah– bastard,” Sanji complains, but Zoro pays him no mind.
“Shut the hell up, cook.”
Zoro looks transfixed, hands now prying open Sanji’s thighs wide apart. The rough touch on the soft inside of his thigh has Sanji reeling, biting down on his lip and closing his eyes shut tight. Zoro’s still patient with his touch, caressessing up and down his thigh but ignoring his dick.
In a vye for Zoro’s full attention, Sanji bucks forward, trying to get the idiot to actually focus on the problem at hand. It almost sends him off the counter and onto the floor, only kept pressed down as Zoro’s soft touches turn hard, his fingers gripping into his thigh with bruising pressure.
“Oi, shitty swordsman,” Sanji complains again, but Zoro’s still ignoring his demands, head downturn as he stares between Sanji’s thighs but does absolutely nothing about it. “I said hurry up.”
Frustrated, Sanji grabs a handful of Zoro’s hair and forces the man to look him in the eyes.
If Sanji had any doubts of Zoro being affected by the chocolates before, they’re completely gone now. The casual arrogance and self-satisfied smirk is gone, replaced with an undeniably hungry look in his eyes. He pants, his breath hot and heavy but not close enough to Sanji’s dick.
“Hurry up and I’ll return the favor,” Sanji says, tugging Zoro’s hair enough he’s sure it hurts. “Don’t you want to shut me up?”
The taunt finally spurs Zoro into action. He snakes one hand under Sanji’s shirt and up his spine, Sanji leaning back into the touch as he shivers into it. His other hand pries Sanji’s legs wide apart, Sanji’s muscles twitching under the rough contact.
Even biting down on his lip isn’t enough to mask Sanji’s moan; the contact is hard and fast but still not enough. With his one free leg, Sanji presses his heel into the base of Zoro’s back, forcing him forward. His cheek presses into Sanji’s thigh, mouth ever closer to his dick.
“Do I want to shut you up?” Zoro repeats, his voice sounding hoarse. “Not exactly.”
Then, he bites into the soft flesh of his inner thigh.
Yelping, Sanji tries to kick Zoro with his free leg, but that just makes Zoro bite down harder. With tears in his eyes, Sanji watches as his own leg bleeds under Zoro’s bite, drips of blood soaking down his lip until Zoro licks them clean.
“You better not do that to my dick, asshole!”
Zoro smirks, pulling away from Sanji’s leg and finally, finally moving his attention to Sanji’s cock. It’s heavy between his legs, red and hard and embarrassingly leaking. Zoro only has to take one long lick up from base to tip to have Sanji quaking in his grasp, the hand on his back the only thing keeping him upright.
When Zoro finally pulls the tip of Sanji’s cock into his mouth, gently tonguing at his slit, Sanji has had enough with the teasing. He digs his heel into Zoro’s back, forcing the man further and further onto his dick.
Zoro’s eyelids flutter, rolling into the back of his head as he takes more and more of Sanji into his mouth. He likes this, Sanji realizes, he likes being forced to choke on Sanji’s dick. His lips slowly move up and down his length, the wet, hot heat enveloping him almost too much to handle.
“Hah– Zoro– you’re– you’re the damn pervert,” Sanji manages between heavy pants, his own eyes rolling as white-hot bliss hits him. Everything feels like too much and not enough at the same time, and he suddenly wants more of Zoro, more than he thinks he could handle like this.
Sanji pulls Zoro away by the hair again, wanting something else from the man but not even sure what. He lets Sanji’s cock go with a wet sound that has Sanji reeling, even more than the cool night air hitting his cock in a sudden contrast to the previous warmth.
He takes the moment to re-focus, looking down at Zoro’s face between his legs.
Zoro’s lips are plush and red, wet with spit and blood and Sanji’s own cum. His dick hits Zoro’s cheek, hot compared to the cool galley air. It’s degrading to see Zoro completely undone like this, his tongue peaking out over his bottom lip and his eyes blown-out and still looking hungry for more.
It’s the look that does Sanji in. With a long, low moan, Sanji can’t even warn Zoro when he comes, bucking forward as cum hits Zoro on the cheek. It’s embarrassing, Sanji closes his eyes shut, but it’s a blissful relief.
For one moment, he thinks this shitshow is over with. He’s expecting to bonelessly fall forward, the pressure finally gone, but that doesn’t happen. Instead, his dick still feels hard between his legs, and only bits and pieces of his sanity returns.
“You’re still hard,” Zoro confirms stupidly. As if Sanji couldn’t fucking tell. “What the hell?”
Letting Zoro’s hair go, Sanji leans back bonelessly into the arm holding him up. “So are you,” he pushes back.
“No I’m not, idiot,” Zoro argues. Sure he isn’t, that’s why he sounds so hoarse and tense and turned on.
He peers at Zoro, trying to prove him wrong. His own cum streaks up the side of Zoro’s face, from his cheekbones up through his air and ear. It drips off his familiar three earrings, the things absolutely coated.
There’s got to be something there that proves Sanji right. The dark look that takes over Zoro’s entire expression, the way Zoro’s practically salivating like a dog, the sweat pooling down his forehead.
How does he egg Zoro into admitting it? Admitting that he’s just as lost as Sanji is? There’s something, an insult, a threat, anything.
“Shit, you look good,” Sanji says instead.
He could lick the cum off the earrings; it’ll feel nice, he thinks. The sharp, cold metallic metal in contrast with his own salty cum. Would be better if it was Zoro’s, but hell if Sanji knows how he can make that happen.
It’s a thought that won’t leave him alone, re-igniting his arousal to an even hotter fever pitch.
Before he can act on it, though, Zoro’s hands are on his waist. He’s spun around fast enough that his head spins with him, and he struggles to find his balance as his feet hit the ground. Zoro presses into his back again, his hand forcing Sanji forward and pressing him into the counter.
“Shut the hell up, cook,” Zoro says.
Shut up? Keep talking? Can Zoro not make up his mind?
Two fingers press against his bottom lip, gentle in contrast to the rest of the rough handling. Zoro doesn’t force himself in, instead waiting until Sanji’s the first to fold. And does Sanji fold, opening up with a needy whine and practically sucking on Zoro’s fingers.
It earns him a hard grind against his ass, and finally Sanji has undeniable proof that Zoro’s just as turned on as he is. His hard cock rocks against the cleft of Sanji’s ass, large and hot even through the fabric of his pants.
All Sanji can do is desperately moan around Zoro’s fingers, practically slobbering on them as they move up and down his tongue. Zoro’s busy pulling down his pants then dragging his dick between the inside of Sanji’s thighs, groaning into Sanji’s ear as he does.
“Shit– shit,” Zoro groans, thrusting in between Sanji’s thighs, the contact hot but not enough.
Nothing’s enough, not Zoro’s mindless thigh fucking or the fingers in his mouth. Sanji tenses his thighs around Zoro’s dick, earning him a loud surprised groan. He finally stops fucking Sanji’s mouth with his fingers, letting Sanji pull away. Spit drips down his lips and coats Zoro’s fingers, practically dripping wet.
“Just fucking admit it, the horny chocolates made you horny,” Sanji manages between pants, shameless in how he presses back into Zoro’s chest. He tenses his thighs again, just for the threat. “What do you need me to do? I could snap off your dick like this, you stupid–”
With that, Zoro digs his teeth into Sanji’s shoulder, the pain making Sanji yelp. He shakes against Sanji, his relentless thrusting becoming erratic and uneven as he comes. Sure enough, despite the hot cum dripping down Sanji’s thighs, he’s still hard.
Sanji laughs, even as Zoro pulls back, and continues laughing even as he presses Sanji’s hole with two fingers, wet with spit.
“Didn’t hit initially,” Zoro argues, like that makes a difference. “But you’re so…”
One finger breaches his rim, Sanji’s previous smug gloating broken as Zoro thrusts deeper and deeper inside. Sanji moans, head hitting the galley counter as he does, pressing his ass back and into Zoro’s relentless fingers.
Turning his head on the counter, Sanji presses the side of his cheek against wood as he looks back at Zoro. Sweat pools down his face, Sanji’s own blood drips from his lip, and even as he presses one more finger into Sanji’s ass, Zoro’s the one who looks completely undone.
“Pathetic?” Sanji says. “You’re the one who’s pathetic.”
Zoro pulls his fingers out, making Sanji groan as he feels emptied. The feeling doesn’t last for long, though, as the heavy head of Zoro’s cock pressing against him. Sanji groans brainlessly as that head finally enters him, but instead of bottoming out like Sanji expects, Zoro continues to rock only the head of his cock in small, almost imperceptible thrusts.
“Zoro,” Sanji threatens, ignoring how his voice sounds absolutely weak and fucked-out.
“Who’s the pathetic one here?” Zoro taunts. He rocks forward again, refusing to press further in. “Say please, cook.”
Sanji’s hands clench and unclench on the counter, rocking back as much as he’s able. It’s not enough, Zoro refuses to let him push back further, someone scrambling together a sense of restraint.
It’s a sense of restraint Sanji doesn’t have; he feels like he’ll come at any moment, even with only the tip of Zoro’s cock inside him. And he can’t have that.
Biting his lip until he bleeds, Sanji glares back with as much fire as he’s able to. “Just fuck me,” he growls out, closing his eyes. “Please, Zoro.”
“Good boy,” Zoro says, finally bottoming out.
Sanji moans, loud in the quiet of the galley, closing his eyes as he comes again against the counter. The only small consolation is the feeling of Zoro filling him up, too, with a loud groan as he comes. Semen drips down the inside of Sanji’s thighs, both of them panting hot and heavy into each other in the temporary afterglow.
Rationality doesn’t last for long, though, because as soon as Sanji’s senses even out, Zoro continues at an absolutely relentless pace.
They continue through it, the squelching sound of cum being fucked out of him sending Sanji’s barely-there rationality to an early grave. He doesn’t know how long they spend, Sanji pressed into the galley counter and Zoro fucking into him, but it’s long enough to make an absolute mess.
Eventually, Sanji’s dick finally, finally softens, leaving him whimpering on the counter as Zoro continues to thrust into him. With one, two, three final thrusts, Zoro groans above him, pulling out and covering his dress shirt with cum.
When he presses back down into Sanji’s back, the familiar hard cock is soft against him, both of them finally spent.
As the final, lingering effects of the chocolate recede, Sanji’s left with the reality of the situation. Zoro presses up against his back, his breath still heavy against Sanji’s neck. It sends a shiver up his spine, this time not caused by the chocolates.
He doesn’t know what Zoro’s thinking now that they’re both capable of rational thought– there’s something dark in the back of Sanji’s mind saying that maybe they’d stepped over some imperceptible line here and thrown their already tenuous relationship into irreparable turmoil.
“There was more than one box,” Zoro interrupts his thoughts. “Do you think–”
Sanji lands a hard kick to his side. “No way in hell,” he says. He considers it for a moment, staring up at the planks of the galley ceiling. “...not tonight,” he adds on.
He ignores how Zoro’s responding laugh makes him flush.