Chapter Text
Zoro swore, the blond was going to kill him one of these days.
It didn’t bother him that much that it had been a few days and he had no response to his confession. It was true, he didn’t want to pressure the blond into replying, or feeling pressure to say something back just because Zoro had jumped the gun. Though it would’ve been nice to hear something.
It wasn’t that Sanji kept going for his cigarettes, only to realize he had none. The random make-out sessions had increased considerably and they were nice. Lazy kisses were something he had never experienced with Her, so it was new, when Sanji reached out for him blindly, groping at air until Zoro met him, and their lips slid against each other’s softly, more for the sake of contact than anything else. Occasionally, Sanji would stop in the middle of walking the street, trying to waft the fumes in his direction, which, Zoro had to give him points for creativity, but were no less harmful to his health.
It wasn’t even that he was sitting on the couch, watching an anime with the cook, capable of feeling his IQ dropping.
It was that the cook gave him blue balls like no one else’s business.
“What’s this one again?” he asked, trying to distract himself from the weight of Sanji on his side.
“Naruto.”
“Okay.” Could he readjust himself on the couch so that his erm, predicament was less visible? “Why the fuck does he wear so much orange? It clashes with his hair.”
Sanji snorted. “As if you have any room to talk.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Sanji raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? Have you looked in a mirror?”
Zoro felt he was dressed okay. He was in a plain grey t-shirt and some of his best sweatpants. He had come back from the gym, (one of the ways he distracted himself from that muscle was by focusing on others) and it wasn’t like he had to impress Sanji. They were way past that point in the relationship when you thought your significant other was perfect and could do no wrong. They had never really had one of those stages ever, to be honest. Which meant Sanji never let him get away with shit.
“All you do is wear suits,” Zoro pointed out. “I’m casual.”
“You reek of the gym.”
“That’s probably because that’s where I was?” The swordsman rolled his eyes. “Moving on. So Blondie’s voiced by a woman, right?”
“So?”
“Can they never get a man to voice men?”
“The character is twelve,” Sanji said. He was getting defensive. “Lots of pre-pubescent male characters are voiced by girls.”
Zoro tilted his head. “Are those goggles of his supposed to be like … substitution for that headband thing? Like, is it supposed to symbolize how he’s always been a ninja at heart, and just needed an upgrade to make it official?”
“Maybe, no one ever knows how exactly the mind of a mangaka works.”
“The mind of a what?”
Sanji twisted from his spot on Zoro’s side, much to the swordsman’s annoyance. He missed the cook’s warmth, but the fire in the blond’s eyes more than made up for it. “How did you survive middle school?”
“I was homeschooled a lot?” Zoro shrugged. “Went to school for like, the last year of high school, went to university for a bit, met Luffy and his weird-ass gang and then I just … stopped?”
“Every normal boy is obsessed with manga.”
“I liked swords.”
Sanji smirked. “Compensating?”
“You know I’m not.” Zoro bit his lip. That was not the right direction for his thoughts to go. It wasn’t necessarily painful to be basically half-mast at all times when in Sanji’s presence, but it was uncomfortable and he certainly didn’t want Sanji thinking that he was with him for his body. “So, uh, let me see if I can get this straight. Naruto, a blond oddball with a swirly-ass tattoo on his stomach which seals up this demon with nine-tails—”
“Kyuubi.”
“Right, Kirby—”
“You know that’s not what I said.” Sanji huffed out his cheeks, which was unfairly adorable, and Zoro filed it away to think about whenever he got annoyed at Sanji.
“Hush now, I’m trying to understand this thing. Who the fuck comes up with this sort of thing? He’s totally obsessed with ramen— oh! Naruto … ramen … I got it!” Zoro snorted. “They like their puns, don’t they? Anyway, so he wants to become the Sage—“
“Hokage,” Sanji corrected sharply. He should not have used that voice with Zoro, because it made the swordsman shift in his seat in a totally obvious way.
“I’m allowed to make mistakes. So he thinks he can become the master of his village by gender-bending himself into sexy, naked women? And he’s failed his ninja application test twice? So he’s an idiot on top of everything? Are these the kinds of role models you get when you’re in middle school?”
“Can you not appreciate that I’m sharing something I like with you?” Sanji sighed, rolling his eyes.
“Hey, I’m appreciating it.”
The cook snorted.
“Okay fine, I’m … processing it. It’s all kind of far-fetched, isn’t it?”
“Galley-La is far fetched, and it’s set in the real world, at least this one is set in a mystical one. Now hush, you’re missing the good parts.”
Zoro caught a sideways glance at the blond.
That’s my boyfriend.
It felt weird to think.
Zoro had been in relationships before (though, admittedly not many), but never with a man. Everything with Sanji felt like a new experience, and he wasn’t sure if it was because the blond was male, or because he was himself.
With his ex-girlfriends, Zoro had always been so careful, so calculated. He’d spend so much time focusing on what he said, making sure he didn’t offend them. He would inevitably blow a fuse, because he only had so much patience, and they’d fight, usually with slapping involved. Sometimes the first fight was all it took to end it. Sanji already knew about his bad temper, and he hadn’t shied away. While he was cautious around Sanji, to make sure he would never be associated with those bastards, he had a certain freedom with him. A liberty that he could be as rough as he wanted, and Sanji wouldn’t be offended by his vulgar tongue or his unthinking words, because Sanji understood him, knew that sometimes Zoro just sucked at words and didn’t know how to formulate sentences.
With women, Zoro had always been soft. Pushing them up against a door was all fun and games until they started to complain how the wood was digging into their back, or Zoro should support them. They’d try to use his strength, wrap their legs around his waist, and when he faltered, caught off guard and dropped them, they thought he was telling them they were too fat. They always needed comfort and while Zoro didn’t mind it, he always felt awkward about it. Sanji never demanded those types of things from him. They had their own system, something that worked for them and Zoro was very comfortable with. Zoro didn’t have to worry he was being too rough with him, Sanji wasn’t about to go yelling about how abusive Zoro was just because he held onto Sanji a little too tight, or liked to brawl with him.
He kept Zoro in line, unlike everyone. Everyone, but Her. She never let him get away with shit.
Zoro never worried too much about his manners. Sanji had already seen the worst of him, having lived with him for a few months before they had entered into this relationship. Plus, he had seen his atrocious table manners during his meals at the Baratie. He wasn’t considered rude just because he didn’t know dining etiquette to a T— well, if he did, it was just an eye roll and it was meant endearingly.
It required so much less effort, in a way— except it didn’t.
Because Zoro was so smart, he seemed to be fucking up at every turn, so yeah, it took effort to maintain. Maybe he should’ve sat Sanji down and had a talk about what they were doing sooner than he did, so that the blond didn’t think Zoro was using him, and admitting to his hatred of hearts and flowers and blind babies in diapers had not been the smartest thing he had done, but he was navigating the waters. It had been a while.
Zoro was no stranger to love, though he wouldn’t say he was an expert in it. He hadn’t handled it ideally the last time, but this felt different from last time.
Maybe every love is different. Because there were certain things that felt familiar, but others that came totally out of left field.
“Are you even paying attention anymore?”
“Why’s the guy have silver hair?” Zoro asked, scanning over the screen.
“It’s anime. Hair knows no bounds,” said the cook dryly.
“Wait. That’s his clone?” Zoro wrinkled his nose. “It looks like a rag doll.”
Sanji rolled his eyes. “Just imagine if we watched Shippuden.”
“Shippuden? There’s more?”
“Of course there’s fucking more,” the blond huffed. “It’s the world’s best selling manga, like, ever. If you think he ditches the orange jumpsuit, you’re wrong.”
“He doesn’t?”
“Well, sort of.” Sanji shrugged. “He gets one that has black and orange.”
“Seriously?”
“Yup.”
Zoro didn’t care what Sanji said. This was way more far-fetched than Galley-La. He frowned at the exchange happening on screen. “That silver haired dick just lied to him, didn’t he?”
Sanji scoffed. “No shit.”
“Kay wait, hold up! I’m supposed to believe that this kid has had a literal demon inside of him since his fucking umbilical chord got cut, and no one fucking told him?”
“It was decreed—”
“Fucking being decreed, how do you not even find out by accident? Like oh, hey, I just got beat up pretty fucking badly, and now I’ve more or less just walked it off. Maybe there’s a demon inside of me helping me heal! Or like, he has an insane amount of energy, even if we assume he’s ADHD. You’re telling me no one thought it would be a good idea to tell this kid about his demonic fox roommate? Not even his sensei?”
“The Homage did it so that Naruto wouldn’t be discriminated, which you would know if you stopped talking—”
“Great fucking job,” Zoro snapped. “He’s a model citizen, ain’t he? Defacing sacred monuments and the like. Give the boy a prize.”
As the episode went on, Zoro found it was easier to invest himself in the confusing plot, with Sanji laughing at him at every turn.
“NO! BULLSHIT! I CALL BULLSHIT!” Zoro screamed, watching as the small area was surrounded by shadow clones. “You’re telling me he just picked up the magical scroll, read it a few times and was like yup, I’m good to go, I’ve turned my rag doll clones into a thousand really good, quality clones that I can also turn into sexy babes?” Zoro shook his head. “I call bull. Shit.”
As the credits rolled for the end of the episode, Zoro rolled his eyes. “So his fucking teacher knows, and he’s like yay, congratulations, you get to be a ninja! But I’m still not going to explain the whole demon thing that my traitor potential boyfriend was going on about.”
Sanji raised an eyebrow.
“What? Those two definitely had hate sex, at the very least. Either way, he should just tell it to him straight.”
“He’s twelve.”
“The sooner he knows, the sooner he can face the harsh realities of life.”
“You’re the type of person who sees a person take a bullet to the head and tell them to walk it off, aren’t you?”
Zoro crossed his arms. “Whatever. Just put on the next episode.”
That got Sanji excited.
Zoro sat back and watched, with Sanji interrupting at certain intervals to mention how ridiculous the whole show seemed to be when suddenly Sanji pulled him by the collar of his shirt, and kissed him.
“I need a cigarette,” breathed the blond.
“Enough to stretch my shirt?” Zoro teased, trying to focus on the blood pounding in his ears and keeping it there.
“Enough to rip your shirt.”
Holy shit.
Zoro’s situation down south was not getting any better when Sanji pulled him closer and tugged so hard, the swordsman fell on top of him.
“Am I crushing you?” he asked softly, their lips ghosting over each other.
“Fine,” grunted the cook. He wrapped an arm around Zoro’s neck, pulling him in and shutting him up.
This was not good for his blood pressure.
He could feel Sanji beneath him, every movement he made. He tried to calm himself down, to relax, because he wasn’t trying to rush things, he really wasn’t, but Sanji was making it so hard to keep his head on straight. The smooth skin of his stomach rubbed against him as Sanji’s shirt rode up a little. Zoro’s hands slid underneath the fabric just a little when—
THUD.
Zoro rubbed the back of his head as it hit the floor. Sanji leaned over the side of the couch and winced. “Sorry. Knee jerk reaction.”
Zoro rolled his eyes. “Right.”
“Want me to kiss it better?”
“Are you volunteering?”
Sanji grinned. “Maybe.”
Zoro folded his legs underneath him and made himself comfortable on the floor. “Well, now I think I don’t want it anymore.”
“Now you’re just being prissy.”
“I’m always prissy.”
Sanji leaned down and pulling at Zoro’s shirt yet again (honestly the stretching had to stop eventually), captured his lips.
Zoro attempted to get back up, guide himself onto the couch, but Sanji came down from his higher position and took a seat in Zoro’s lap on the floor, forcing him to crane his neck upwards. Zoro knew it was going to make his neck sore, but he complied. He loved it when Sanji took charge.
He pulled away from Zoro, and much to the swordsman’s embarrassment, he found himself leaning forward, trying to chase after the cook’s taste. The blond leaned close to his ear and gently licked the shell with his tongue, biting down gently.
Zoro let out a gasp and pulled at Sanji’s tie, trying to bring him closer, but the blond avoided his attempt to control the situation, tilting Zoro’s head back until it was on the coffee table and his spine was arching in a way that wasn’t really comfortable, but he was going to complain if Sanji thought it right to control him this way.
“Fuck, Sanji,” he muttered as the man bit into his neck, and Zoro’s hips lifted off the ground in response. He lapped at the mark he had left behind, sucking gently. “You should … shit, you should stop.”
Sanji rested on his ankles, raising his head. “You don’t like it?”
“Can you not feel me?” His throat was dry, and he felt like he was sixteen again. This was embarrassing, on so many levels.
Sanji frowned, running his hand along the slope of the swordsman’s neck. “I left a mark,” he said thoughtfully.
“Fuck, you’re killing me.”
The blond’s eyes widened. “Oh wait, is that …?”
“Yes,” Zoro said through clenched teeth.
“Do you need me to uh … stop?”
“Yeah, kind of.”
Sanji bit his lip. “I mean I could—”
“No, it’s fine,” Zoro said, cutting him off. “I can deal with it. Just … give me some time, and I’ll be fine. You’re not ready for something like this, and I don’t want you to feel pressured.”
Breathe. Breathing exercises help, right? It didn’t hurt, it was just uncomfortable and he could handle discomfort, he really could. There was no reason for Sanji to be as worried as he was about it.
“You seem distracted.”
“Distracted? No … I’m just … just give me a second. I’m going to take a shower.”
“Okay …”
“Hey, you can keep watching,” Zoro insisted, getting up. “I’ll be back soon. Just feel a bit gross since the gym so … Yeah.”
“Do you need me to …?”
Zoro shook his head. “I don’t need anything from you. And I’m not asking for something you’re not ready to give, so it’s all good. Just let me take a shower, and I’ll be back before you know it.”
Sanji nodded, though he seemed uneasy.
Zoro went into the bathroom and stripped out of his clothes, locking the door. He stared at himself in the mirror, and slapped himself.
“Get it together,” he muttered, careful to keep his voice low. The walls were really thin, though he couldn’t expect much else from such a shitty apartment.
Chuckling to himself, he got into the shower and turned it on cold.
Pressing his head against the cool tile of the wall, he bit his lip to keep in a yelp of surprise at the sheer temperature of the water. He was going to be fine. No one had ever tied of sexual tension before, right? Besides, he had gone a pretty long time in his life without having sex. He didn’t mind not having sex with Sanji, he respected the man too much to push him for something he wasn’t ready to give, but at the same time, the fact that he felt he couldn’t do anything with the blond made him antsy.
He could do this.
The cold was doing nothing to help him though, if he was being honest.
There was something about Sanji taking control that got Zoro really hot. He’d be lying if he said the sounds the cook made didn’t go straight to his cock, but seeing Sanji confident? That was like an aphrodisiac.
Sanji was gorgeous, and he didn’t even seem to realize. It wasn’t because he was humble, or anything, he just seemed to genuinely not know. He still avoided mirrors, never looked at himself for too long. Enough to make himself tidy for the day, to brush his hair, to shave enough so that he had that stubble, but never a five o’clock shadow, and then he was done. In and out, never spending long staring at his own reflection.
The thing was, Sanji was like sex on legs. His legs looked like sex, long and strong and muscular. They were so powerful, and went on for miles. They were beautiful. His fingers were too. They were hardened from years of working in the kitchen, knives and rough-handling dough for years had given him his fair amount of calluses, but they still felt so gentle on the skin.
In the beginning of their relationship, Zoro had been glad Sanji wasn’t ready for sex. Neither was Zoro, and if they had tried in those first few months, it would have been a total disaster. He had been scared that he wouldn’t like Sanji in that way, that maybe he could hold him and kiss him and want to be with him, but never with him.
That apparently wasn’t a problem if his unyielding hard-on was anything to go by.
The water droplets got in his eye and he groaned. He was taking too long. His body still felt too hot, the water didn’t cool him down, only seemed to steam when it hit his skin.
It felt so wrong to do this, but …
Zoro wrapped his hand around his aching member, and began to stroke himself.
He could see him, in his head, spread out on the couch with his shirt unbuttoned and his tie loose around his neck, his pants hanging dangerously low on his hips. The cook’s arms were above his head, his lips were slightly parted, and he had a look in his eyes, one that pulled at Zoro.
One of confidence.
In his mind, Zoro walked over to him, settled his knees on either side of Sanji’s waist and ran his hands up and down the exposed skin of his torso. Sanji arched up into his touch, teased him about how much he seemed to like the feel of Sanji’s skin.
His grip on himself tightened as Zoro imagined that baritone voice saying his name, like he had before, utterly wrecked and hoarse and strained, breaking as Zoro rubbed the cook through his pants, the dignified Sanji exposing himself to Zoro without a second thought, not self-conscious, not hiding, allowing Zoro to see him.
He imagined trailing kisses down Sanji’s neck, marking him up with a few hickeys on his way, and Sanji would giggle at each one, kick him gently with his calf, but tightened his grip on Zoro’s hair with each bite. They’d grind their hips together, and Sanji’s voice would drop even lower, his eyes would get hooded and his eyelids would become heavy as he looked at Zoro like he was a meal he wanted to eat.
His hand moved faster, and he moved to lean against the wall, biting into his arm to keep himself from being loud. He couldn’t forget that Sanji was right outside, down the hall, sitting on that same couch, oblivious to what Zoro was doing.
The Sanji in his mind suddenly flipped them over and then Zoro was underneath him, and Sanji was taking charge. With a single hand, he trapped Zoro’s arms above his head and bit on the swordsman’s ear, growling.
“Do you want me to fuck you?” Fantasy Sanji asked, and Zoro was sure one of his moans escaped him as a thrill ran down his spine. The prospect of Sanji dominating him like that, being confident and sure of himself and taking what he wanted …
“Shit,” Zoro hissed. He was so close, his skin was burning. He barely even noticed the water as it ran down his legs.
“I want you … to fuck yourself for me,” said Fantasy Sanji. “Can you do that for me, Marimo? Open yourself up for my cock.”
Zoro’s eyes shut tightly, and he bit his lip as he removed his arm from its position of covering his mouth. There were teeth marks in his skin, he was pretty sure he was bleeding, but it barely even registered as his hand moved down, around his body.
His hand on his cock stilled as he considered what he was about to do. His mind was cloudy with lust, but there didn’t seem to be anything wrong, with what he was going to do. He didn’t think so, at least. He slowly ran his fingers along his opening, unsure of what he was doing, what he was going to do, what was even going on.
He pressed against it, felt the pressure, but pulled back before it could enter him.
“Teasing yourself for me?” Fantasy Sanji asked, licking his lips.
Zoro spread his hand wide across his ass, and pulled one cheek apart from the other. The water dripped down his back, slid down his spine, and teased his entrance. He was shaking, his feet were unsteady as he tried again, pressing a finger against his hole, with the pad up. It couldn’t go in this way, but he could feel the pressure building, same as in his gut.
“Fuck,” he moaned, tugging at his cock. He was going to do it. It felt too good, he had to try, and it wasn’t like they weren’t going to do this at some point, right? May as well “open himself up”, as Fantasy Sanji had said.
“Zoro?”
The swordsman froze, his finger still pressed against his hole, so close to entering, but not quite.
Fuck.
“Yeah?”
“You okay in there?”
Fuck him and his sexy voice— no, better not think about him and the word fuck …
“Yeah, fine,” he gasped out. If he could just avoid letting on about what he was doing, then he’d be golden.
“You sure?”
“Absolutely.” He nearly winced. He was so close and Sanji’s voice was doing nothing to help him. Well, nothing to help him stop thinking about Sanji in this way. “You can go back to the living room, I’ll come out when I’m done.”
“If you’re certain …”
“Yes, I’m certain, now fucking go,” hissed the swordsman, unsure of how long he could remain calm without grabbing himself in hand again.
“Okay …”
“Wait, I didn’t mean it like that,” Zoro said quickly. “I’m … tired. I uh …”
Sanji coughed awkwardly. “Are you um … relieving yourself?”
Zoro grit his teeth. “I’m not desperate.” He clamped down on his jaw to hold in a wince, but it escaped him anyway. Fuck it, Sanji had seen him on some of his worst days. “But … if I was … hypothetically …”
There was a sharp intake of breath on the other side of the door. “Zoro …”
“What … what would you say?” He wasn’t going to freak out, he wasn’t going to act stupid, but it was harder to convince himself of that as the silence dragged on until—
“Hypothetically?”
“Yeah.”
“I … I would probably … help you out.” He could almost see the shades of red Sanji was turning. Sanji was gorgeous when he blushed.
“Oh.”
“Is that … okay?”
Zoro breathed in through clenched teeth. “I um …” Closing his eyes, he wondered if he was going to regret this, but he forced the words out in a rush. “Talk to me.”
“W-what?”
“Talk to me,” Zoro repeated. “Just … talk to me.”
“About … about what?”
“Anything.” He was so close, it didn’t even matter. Sanji could babble on about the anatomy of a snail and it would probably still help him reach completion. “I like … I want to hear your voice.”
“Ah, alright I guess.” There was movement on the other side of the door.
“Stay outside!” He didn’t want the first time Sanji ever saw him this desperate to be this. “I can hear you just fine through the door.”
He heard the blond slide down the door, sitting on the floor. “Okay. Um … you’re hard. Wow, okay … my boyfriend is jacking off to me talking right now … This is … this is … different.”
Zoro snorted, and began to rub himself slowly. “Keep going.”
“This … shouldn’t we have a talk about kink negotiation before this? I mean … I dunno, I feel like this is the sort of thing you talk about before you just … make me talk to you. I could just go in there and help you out, physically.”
“It’s fine, just keep talking,” Zoro assured him. “You don’t have to think about what I’m doing right now, tell me about your day.”
Sanji laughed nervously. It was a beautiful sound. “I can’t not think about what you’re doing. I guess I uh … I just wanted to know … is my voice really that erotic to you?”
“Have you ever heard yourself?” Zoro asked. He knew his voice was leaving him, his throat felt dry, and raw.
“You’re kind of … loud, you know? It’s weird, I didn’t think you would be. Always seemed like the stoic type. But … shit, the sounds you make … I mean they could be louder but …”
“Do you want me to scream your name? Cause I can,” Zoro said. He was quite sure he was going to anyway. His knees were knocking against each other, and even if Sanji wasn’t really saying anything sexy, it was still driving him forward. There was silence. “Do you like that? The thought of me screaming your name?”
“Fuck …”
“Are you hard, Sanji?”
“A little …”
Zoro groaned. “Fuck, tell me about it. Talk to me, Sanji. Touch yourself. I want to hear about it. What you’re doing, I’m so close, I just need …”
“I’m … I’m unzipping my pants, I’m wrapping … shit, my h-hand around myself … Stroking …”
“Fast? Slow?”
“S-slow,” Sanji breathed. He sounded far away, like his mind was elsewhere. “It’s hot … my skin’s hot … too hot. I can’t …”
“What are you thinking about?”
“Y-you. Who else would I think about when touching my cock?”
Zoro hissed. “Shit, keep going. Talk to me just like that.”
“You like it … when I say stuff like that? When I talk … dirty?”
“Y-yeah,” Zoro gasped. “Close … so much closer … keep going.”
“I’m— shit, I’m thinking about you … biting my neck, thinking about … your hands … on me …”
Zoro grit his teeth as he trembled. “I like touching you,” he said, trying to sound steady, but he knew it wasn’t working. “I like the feel of your skin underneath my fingers … Y-your body is … so sensitive,” he rasped out.
“I’m …” Sanji choked. “Shit, I’m …” He cut off with a sudden cry, and Zoro quickly followed, his breath coming out in heaves as he tried to steady himself. His legs had suddenly decided they couldn’t support his weight as his knees hit the tile. It was not a comfortable position to be in, however knowing that Sanji was on the other side of the door, just as hot and bothered as he was made something coil in his gut.
“I’ll be out in a minute,” Zoro said. “I’ll let you wash up.”
Sanji made a sound of acknowledgment and Zoro turned off the water. He wasn’t sure how much he had just wasted, and he knew the bill would come to bite him in the ass, but he felt light on air as he wrapped a towel around himself. He felt exhausted, somehow, and as unlocked the door, he realized he had forgotten to bring in clothes with him.
“I’m going to open the door now, okay?”
“Hmm.”
Zoro pushed at the door to find Sanji sitting on the floor, slightly to the side. He was a mess, with his pants unzipped, and his boxers stained.
“C’mon, get up and wash it off,” Zoro said, smirking slightly. “I’m going to get dressed, and we’ll continue watching, alright?”
Sanji rolled his eyes. “Was it the orange that did it for you?”
“I like my blonds better dressed.”
Sanji chuckled softly. “I uh … this is embarrassing.”
“How do you think I feel?” Zoro put a hand on his back and steered him into the bathroom. “I’ll get you a set of clothes, and I’ll have them laid out for you, okay?”
“Can you bring them … can you bring them into the bathroom? I won’t lock the door.”
Zoro bit his lip. Sanji’s head was turned to the side, and he was blushing. He wasn’t comfortable, that was obvious, and it had nothing to do with the after-affects of masturbating.
“Okay.”
Sanji eventually joined him on the couch. They both stared at the TV screen, frozen at the beginning of the next episode.
“So …”
“Don’t make this awkward.”
Sanji scoffed. “Awkward? It’s only awkward if you make it awkward.”
“And you’re making it awkward.”
“Sorry—”
“Don’t apologize.” Zoro reached across Sanji to get the remote from him. “So, we’re going to continue?”
“We’re not going to talk about what happened?”
“I mean it’s pretty obvious what we did,” Zoro shrugged. “There’s no reason to make a big deal out of it. You’re my boyfriend. I think you’re hot. Makes sense I get turned on by you. There’s nothing wrong with that.” The swordsman snuck a sideways glance at the cook. “If you want to talk about it, we can.”
“I just mean … I don’t know … am I … is it a problem for you? That I … I’m not like, trying to sleep with you?”
“No. Would I like to sleep with you? Yes. But not before you want to. I’ll take my time, I don’t have a problem with that. How shitty would it be if I pressured you for it? Besides, it’s not like we don’t do anything, we go at your pace, and I’m cool with that.”
“But I mean … you’re a healthy male, you want it.”
“But I don’t need it,” Zoro pointed out. “I’m not someone who’s controlled by their libido. Before we do something as big as sex, we’d have to have a talk about it. A proper one. I don’t want us doing anything in the heat of the moment, then there’s room for regrets. I don’t want to make you regret anything we do, Sanji. Okay?”
Sanji bit his lip. “Right …”
“So, next episode— what are you doing?”
Zoro couldn’t see. A towel had been dropped onto his head, and he could feel Sanji’s hands running along his scalp through the material.
“You’ll get sick if you don’t dry your hair properly.”
Zoro rolled his eyes, but enjoyed the feel of Sanji massaging his head. The towel was rough, pulling at his hair, but he enjoyed it all the same. Sanji caught a fistful of his hair and pulled. Zoro let out a mewl of pleasure, which he should be embarrassed about, but it was his boyfriend.
“You really like when people play with your hair, don’t you?”
“Kind of, I guess?”
“Doesn’t it hurt?”
Zoro shrugged, trying to focus on the conversation as Sanji raked his fingers through Zoro’s hair. “I like a little pain with my pleasure.”
“Masochist.”
“Maybe.”
“So you’re not denying it?”
“I don’t see the point.” He tipped his head back, as Sanji pulled the towel away and looked up at his boyfriend. “So, what’s the plan for the rest of the day? Naruto marathon?”
“Thought I’d make us some ramen for the occasion,” Sanji said.
“Fitting.”
“Thought so myself.”
“My boyfriend’s so smart.”
Sanji wrinkled his nose. “You’re full of shit.”
“And yet you’re dating me.”
Zoro picked up the remote. “Alright, next one?”
“Yup. Two hundred eighteen more episodes to go.”
“The fuck?”
As they watched, Zoro couldn’t help but draw parallels between Naruto and Sanji. Perhaps initially it was the bright blue eyes and blond hair, but it was deeper than that the more he watched. Whereas all the ninjas had fairly plain colour palettes, Naruto has bright colours, drawing your attention. He was constantly in pain, but never let it show, burying it deep and pretending it didn’t exist, insisting he was fine. Yes, the two were quite similar indeed.
Zoro watched as one of the stupidest love triangles he had ever witnessed unfolded before him (and he watched Galley La), as Naruto made it obvious he liked the pink haired girl, who in turn obviously liked the guy with the duck butt hairdo.
And then—
“Did … did they just kiss?”
It was there, Naruto and Sasuke were kissing on screen. What the fuck was happening? It was over in seconds, not even, and then the story continued on, as though it had never happened. Something about it didn’t sit well with Zoro. That they used a gay kiss as a gag, for amusement.
“That’s a really shitty first kiss,” he noted. “The angle’s … weird, and I mean ….”
Sanji laughed. “We could try it, see how it is for ourselves.”
Zoro raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
The cook turned red instantly. “It was just a joke, jeez.”
“I mean, do you wanna try it?”
“I’m not that much of an otaku.”
“If it’s something you wanna try, we can do it,” Zoro insisted. “I don’t have a problem with it.”
“But it’s embarrassing.”
“Lots of things are embarrassing. Doesn’t stop me from doing them.” He quirked an eyebrow. “I mean the only way to make it more embarrassing would be to cosplay the whole scene. Which, I’m down for, if you wanna give it a shot. You just have to find a dark shirt, and I’ve gotta find some orange … I bet you could make orange sexy.”
Sanji was blushing now, pulling his legs close to his chest. “I don’t … I mean … if you’re not … if you’re not opposed, then I guess we could …”
“Hey.” Zoro put a hand on Sanji’s shoulder. “If you can’t geek out over anime with your boyfriend, who can you geek out with?” He rolled his eyes. “We can just set up the kitchen, give one of us a higher leverage point than the other, do it like that.”
“But that’s a mistreatment of kitchen equipment.”
“Where else am I supposed to sit? Would you prefer to try it on the fire escape and potentially give me a heart attack while you’re at it, again?”
“I mean, no, but …”
“So we’ll use the kitchen. It’s where you're supposed to spice things up anyway, am I right?”
Sanji nudged him gently in the shoulder and Zoro smirked. “C’mon, let’s get it set up.”
They positioned the island closer to the kitchen table, and after some debate about who would do what, Sanji was on top of the island, leaning forward towards Zoro, who tried (and failed) to mimic the too-serious ninja.
“Stop laughing!”
“You have to admit, this is kind of ridiculous.”
Sanji seemed to grow smaller at the remark. “We don’t have to do it, you know.”
“We’ve committed so far though!” Zoro laughed, before trying to school his features into a scowl. “C’mere.”
Sanji leaned forward, and their lips met.
Instantly, Zoro wrapped an arm around the cook, scared for his balance and pulled him closer. Sanji toppled forward, his knees sliding onto the table, which, if Zoro was thinking straight, most probably could not hold the blond’s weight.
Pulling him by his tie, Zoro climbed onto the table itself and ignored the way it shook underneath their combined weights. Sanji tasted like spices, with a tang of bitterness. Zoro always did think sweetness was overrated.
Running his fingers through the blond’s hair, he pulled him on top of him. One of the table’s legs teetered dangerously, so Zoro tried to guide him off the surface, but in his attempt to maintain the kiss, he fell off, taking Sanji with him.
He just barely managed to keep his head from hitting the cold floor, Sanji’s warmth on top of him distracting him from the cool on his back.
Sanji let out a nervous chuckle.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
Their breaths mixed together, so close, but not quite touching.
“Come here often?”
Sanji giggled. It was possibly the cutest shit Zoro had ever seen. “That is a terrible line,” he declared. “Can’t think of anything better?”
“You’re still here, aren’t you?”
Sanji nodded, their foreheads bumping against each other lightly. “Yes, I am. What is wrong with me?”
“Dunno, maybe I should get you checked out.”
“Am I crushing you?”
“A little,” Zoro admitted. Sanji wasn’t necessarily light on Zoro’s chest, but as he said, he enjoyed a little pain with his pleasure. “I can deal.”
“It’s unsanitary on the floor.”
“That it is.”
“Maybe we should get off it.”
“Mmm… Splendid idea.” Zoro’s hands moved to Sanji’s hips, holding him in place. “You know, you could sit up.”
“I could,” Sanji agreed. “But I won’t.”
“Careful, or else I’ll think you like this sort of thing.”
“Maybe I do.”
“So,” Zoro breathed. The air was thick with tension, and the swordsman found he was content just like this, with Sanji on top of him, doing absolutely nothing, just talking. It was a weird position, granted, but it was a causal intimacy that Sanji wasn’t shying away from and that overjoyed the man. “That’s a no to the anime reenactments.”
“Guess so, spoilsport.”
“You’re the one who fell forward too much.”
“Technicalities. I’m not the one who got us on the floor.”
“You’re not complaining.”
“No, suppose I’m not.”
Sanji leaned forward and kissed Zoro softly, their lips sliding against each other gently in a lazy kiss that didn’t ask for anything, didn’t demand for more, and existed purely to have that contact.
They stayed like that for a while, lazy kisses until Zoro complained a bit about his back and Sanji sat up on his lap and they continued on the floor. Zoro probably needed to get the table checked out, but he could do that later.
“Zoro,” Sanji breathed, pulling away. The swordsman tried to chase after his lips, but Sanji stopped him. “I want to …talk.”
“We’re talking right now,” Zoro replied absent-mindedly. Sanji’s skin was so distracting. Unable to kiss his mouth, he moved to his neck, at the slope of skin that was so inviting.
“No, I meant the talk.”
Zoro wrinkled his nose as he traced a finger along the cook’s hip bone, making the one in his lap shiver. “What talk?”
“I want to do it.”
The swordsman froze in his movements and pulled away from the blond. “W-what?”
Sanji met his gaze fiercely, his cerulean eye showing no hint of doubt. “I want you to fuck me.”