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A tall castle. Leagues of identical guards. Shadowy figures dangling in chambers filled with blue liquid.
A blonde woman lying lifeless in a bed. A sense of loneliness. Of despair.
Brightly coloured children laughing and then running away from him as he lay on the ground. Icy blue eyes staring through slits on a golden mask, looking down at him as if disgusted with his very existence.
Zoro woke up in a cold sweat, his head pounding as the visions swam before his bleary eyes again. Something about those images felt familiar, cutting deep into his chest though he didn’t recognise a single one of them. Zoro had never had a nightmare like that before. He’d had some, of course, of his own failures or lives he’d taken on the battlefield coming back for revenge, but nothing like this, not so vivid that it could have been a memory.
How strange. Zoro lifted his hand to his head to rub at his temples, startled by the long silky thing that brushed against his palm. It definitely wasn’t his own hair but when he gripped the edge of it and gave it a yank pain bloomed over his scalp regardless, only making his headache worse. He pulled his hand away and looked down at it, a chill running down his spine at how pale his skin was.
Zoro bolted upright and tried to take in what he was seeing, but another wave of silky softness trickled over his cheek, obscuring his vision with light strands. He darted his head from side to side to try and shake it away but it was no use: the hair fell back into place as if it belonged there, making Zoro’s throat feel dry.
A cursory glance around the room showed that everyone else was still asleep, tucked up in their wooden hammocks. The lack of lights made it difficult to tell who was who but every bed was full, sheets pulled up high. It was then that Zoro realised he wasn’t in his own bunk. He was far lower than he expected to be, and the large sprawling limbs to his right had to belong to Franky.
Zoro tilted his head upwards to survey the bunk hanging over him, knowing instinctively that it was his own. But if he was here, then who the hell was occupying it?
A stupid question, all things considered. Still, Zoro carefully slid out the side of the hammock, glancing upwards to see his own swords snugly tilted towards the wall. He’d definitely put them in bed with himself last night, so if his body was up there then…
He didn’t want to believe that conclusion but Zoro couldn’t have stopped himself looking down even if he’d tried. The fancy dress shirt on his chest and tight black trousers that clung to his hips were impossible to deny.
Oh, Goddammit.
Perhaps this was another dream. One of those dreams within dreams that tricked you into thinking you’d woken up. Zoro would have preferred that to this situation but there was no doubt in his mind that he was actually awake. The pain he felt was definitely real, the sharp bursts of white lights behind his eyelids hammering that point home every ten or twenty seconds. Unfortunately this was really happening, whether Zoro liked it or not.
What, had Law attacked them in their sleep just to fuck with them? Zoro wouldn’t put that past the greasy bastard but there was no way that had happened. He’d definitely have sensed something like that and woken up to challenge him before he’d have gotten away. No, this was something else though what exactly Zoro couldn’t say for sure.
Everything in Zoro wanted to scream but instead he took a few quiet steps backwards. Whatever this was, there was no point in waking up the others. In fact, he’d have an easier time of figuring things out if the cook wasn’t awake to see him like this. He could already imagine the bitching, the way the bastard would overreact to every little thing he did or said. It’d be impossible not to get agitated by him, and all they’d accomplish would be bickering like usual.
Deeply displeased, Zoro turned on his heel and stalked out of the room, closing the door silently behind himself. Knowing it and accepting it were two different things, and though it was obvious what was going on, Zoro still didn’t quite believe it. He’d have to see it with his own eyes first.
The problem was, there weren’t really any mirrors on the ship. The stupid cook probably had one stashed away somewhere (or did he preen himself whilst looking into his pans?) but Zoro had no idea where it would be. The only one he knew for sure existed was the one in the women’s bedroom, and though it’d be hilarious to get caught and have Sanji blamed for this forever, the last thing Zoro wanted to do was sneak into the women’s room. He could draw a bath and try to catch his reflection in the water but that was a pain in the ass; bending over the edge to get a look at the cook’s ugly mug wasn’t appealing at all.
That’s when Zoro remembered the delivery Nami had gotten on the last island. Hadn’t they bought a new mirror and some other furniture? Franky had spent some hours in their room making a goddamn racket and then—
Ah. The storage room.
The details were fuzzy to him but Zoro was sure that there’d be a mirror dumped in there. Either the new one or the old one, not that it made any difference to him. Hell, whichever it was could be broken for all he cared: all Zoro needed was to confirm his suspicions properly.
With that in mind, Zoro began wandering off to where he thought the storage room was. The echo of Sanji’s bare feet against the floor made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, feeling followed though he knew it was just his own footsteps. Walking with someone else’s feet felt strange, each stride forward feeling longer and each step having more of a bounce to it. Zoro felt springy and light on his feet, faster than normal and though he perhaps would have stumbled if he bumped into something, Zoro could tell he wouldn’t even wobble right now. There was a sureness to Sanji’s steps that was oddly pleasing, though of course Zoro would rather die than admit that.
The door to the storage room came into view much faster than Zoro was expecting it and he knew that it wasn’t just because of the cook’s legs. It bothered him to think about it but somehow everything seemed clearer to him now, the paths around the ship no longer a weird sort of maze. Everyone had always taken the piss out of him for getting lost so much but perhaps it wasn’t his fault like so many of them seemed to think.
Zoro scowled at the thought and shoved the door open roughly, feeling a slight sting on his palm where he’d smacked it too hard. His eyes scanned the room for any sign of a mirror, spying a tall thin object covered with a sheet on his right. It was leant carefully up against the wall but Zoro didn’t care, striding over and yanking off the material in frustration. Honestly, how the hell had things ended up like this if there wasn’t some sort of Devil Fruit or sleep deprivation involved?
Actually, now that he thought about it, hadn’t Robin talked about something like this over the dinner table last night? Some crap about people with ‘strong emotions’ swapping bodies in this part of the world? Admittedly he hadn’t really been paying all that much attention, but when she’d said she thought it was romantic he’d written it off as one of her usual dumbass ghost stories. It was just stuff she said to keep the younger ones entertained, right?
Sanji’s unblinking face stared back at him through the mirror.
Apparently not.
Zoro crouched down to get a better look at it, weirded out by his reflection copying his movements perfectly. When he reached a hand to touch his cheek, Sanji did it too, looking equally awkward and uncomfortable. He could have written this off as some sort of stupid farce with the cook playing along behind a pane of glass if he didn’t know any better, his fingertips touching his chin and finding soft downy hairs upon it.
Well, alright. It was official now. Zoro definitely didn’t have a beard of his own.
Annoyed, Zoro sat down on the floor, glaring at his own reflection in distaste. It looked like Sanji but flipped, setting off an uncanny valley sensation right at the back of his head. It was the cook but it also wasn’t, still feeling like some sort of illusion though Zoro had already accepted it was real. Was this what the cook saw every day? How he pictured himself? Weird. Zoro probably didn’t look how he thought he did either.
Philosophy wasn’t Zoro’s strong suit but neither was thinking about this sort of crap in any capacity. He quickly grew bored of contemplating on perspective, sticking his tongue out at Sanji’s image childishly. Obviously the reflection did the same, and Zoro was quite surprised by how pointed the cook’s tongue was. He’d never really noticed that before, always too offended by the gesture to actually study it.
He slipped it back inside and frowned to himself. Regardless of what had caused this, he wasn’t going to be able to come to any answers on his own. If it was indeed the thing Robin had talked about, she was the only one who’d be able to explain it to him and come up with a solution. Well, that was, if there even was a way to fix this. She’d be fast asleep right now and though Zoro could go and wake her up, part of him actually didn’t want to.
Not because the thought of waking her up was a problem per se, but because now that he was in Sanji’s body Zoro was far too curious. Were there secrets lying under the cook’s immaculate clothes? Things he didn’t want people to know? It’d be really funny to find something to tease him about later, have a trump card that would shut the bastard up when Sanji got too cocky. The thought of invading his crew’s privacy normally would have made Zoro disgusted, but he remembered vividly how Sanji had groped Nami’s boobs back on Punk Hazard. She certainly wouldn’t have given him permission to do that and if Sanji thought that was okay to do to someone else he must have been okay with it happening to him, too.
Besides, if he was stuck in this body for the next few hours it only made sense to know what it was capable of, right? Right.
Zoro started by taking a good long look at Sanji’s hands. From the way his fingers moved when he flexed them he noted that the cook was right-handed. Not all that much of a surprise but it still felt weird to him, far more used to favouring his left though he was ambidextrous. A few silver streaks across the right thumb caught Zoro’s attention, his lips quirking up at the sides at the sight of the faded scars. Clearly the cuts had been done with a blade of some sort, and Zoro couldn’t stop his glee at the idea of Sanji having accidents in the kitchen. It had definitely happened a very long time ago but the knowledge was pleasing, knowing that the self-proclaimed ‘Great Chef’ had made mistakes too.
As far as teasing material went, it wasn’t much though. It’d barely bother Sanji at all – his hands were on display a lot of the time, so not only was it not a big deal but others had probably noticed it already. Nah, not good enough.
Zoro swept his gaze up from Sanji’s hands to look over his wrists, studying his forearms and noting how slender they were. There was muscle for sure but it wasn’t like his own, and the pale hairs dotted over Sanji’s skin almost made him scoff. He’d seen the cook’s legs before and the hair there was much thicker and more noticeable, closer to his beard. He ran Sanji’s fingers over it thoughtfully, unsurprised when he barely felt a tickle against his fingertips.
“Oh,” Zoro breathed, and the sound of Sanji’s voice rattled in his ears.
For a second Zoro tensed up, thinking he’d been caught, and hurriedly scanned the room for signs of anyone else only to find it empty. Oh, right. Of course.
Heat built in Zoro’s face at his own stupidity, but unlike when he blushed this felt far more intense. The burn coated his cheeks and spread to his ears, causing him to glance back into the mirror to see a hot red flush over Sanji’s face. The cook blushed easily, it seemed, and in the most obvious way possible to boot. He’d not really paid attention to that before either, oddly entranced by the clash of colours until they started to fade. Zoro blinked and stared into the super-serious expression, a little put off by how uncharacteristic it appeared on Sanji’s face.
He was learning a lot but nothing of value, despite the weird tugging sensation in the pit of his stomach. His gaze darted to Sanji’s legs, having a brief moment of consideration before flinging one straight up into the air. It moved smooth as butter even without a warm up, no discomfort to speak of in his muscles or joints. Sanji’s flexibility had always felt like an enigma to Zoro, how he could lift his foot right above his head even whilst standing. Apparently it was just this easy, and Zoro couldn’t stop the pang of jealousy in his chest at being faced with that fact. The urge to do that trick just once overcame him, his hand slapping against the floor in determination.
“Stupid fucking cook,” Zoro muttered as he got to his feet.
Insulting Sanji using his own voice tickled something wicked in Zoro but he wasn’t about to get even more distracted than he was. He had time before his own body would want to get out of bed however it would only be a few hours at most. If he was gonna do this then he had to stay focused as much as possible, but getting a feel for the cook’s combat abilities was definitely important. In the event that Robin did not have a magical cure, they’d be down one of their best fighters (and the cook, he guessed) so if an enemy attacked they’d be at a massive disadvantage.
Really, that was the thing Zoro should be paying attention to but his mind kept wandering to more interesting and stupid things against his will. Teasing Sanji was a given, of course, but somehow that felt more important to him right now than any kind of battle preparation. Not that Zoro thought it’d take all that much to be as good at kicking as the cook was – he just had to fling his legs around, right? Easy. Child’s play, even. Especially compared to wielding a sword.
Zoro took a deep breath and lifted one of his legs, bending it at the knee before lashing outwards and twisting at the waist. His body followed the motion without hesitation, his stationary foot shifting as if by instinct to accommodate the roundhouse kick. Zoro’s vision felt blurry from the speed and momentum, causing him to panic and try to stop himself from falling over. It had the opposite effect of course, his muscles tensing and sending Sanji’s body off-rhythm, his ankle twinging in discomfort as he toppled backwards to the hard floor.
“Fuck!”
The loud thwack of Zoro hitting the ground was not as painful as his sense of embarrassment, his ass breaking his fall and sending his legs upwards. His face burned as he caught sight of himself in the mirror, Sanji’s eyes wide with surprise and his mouth slightly hanging open. Zoro didn’t know what was worse: the fact that he’d blundered what should have been a simple task or the fact that he couldn’t even take pleasure in seeing Sanji fail. Sure, it was the cook’s body but the blame lay solely on his shoulders for not trusting it.
Sanji’s stupid fringe tickled at Zoro’s cheek as if to taunt him and he blew up at it through the side of his mouth to try and make it shift away. Perhaps this was harder than he’d given Sanji credit for or maybe it was something else. Zoro hadn’t had much time to think on it but it was just as weird to be seeing through two eyes again, and the fine blond strands of hair half-obscuring his vision really weren’t helping him to adjust.
Zoro glared at Sanji’s reflection in the mirror as if this was all the cook’s fault. Why the bastard had to cover half of his face at all times had always been beyond him, but as he reached a hand up towards Sanji’s face to adjust it, he hesitated. He knew it was his own expression but seeing the cook looking at him like that was actually making him a little nervous. As if the thing he was about to do was absolutely forbidden, an unforgivable action that would definitely have consequences later on. A stupid notion, really: it wasn’t like they’d never seen this side of his face before and if it was all that bad, Zoro would fix it by the time Sanji woke up. The cook didn’t even have to know.
Carefully, Zoro slipped his hand under the curtain of hair and brushed it upwards along his face to get it out of his way. The difference in vision felt startling, the full depth perception kicking in now that it properly had the chance. He felt like he could see more around himself, a wider view that he no longer had to compensate for with extraneous haki. Being able to see both left and right with ease felt comforting somehow, and Zoro relaxed his shoulders.
The first thing he noticed about Sanji’s reflection was something he ought to have known a long time ago. Not only did the cook’s eyebrows both curl at exactly the same end, but one was bigger than the other, with a far more developed spiral. Seeing them both at once made it suddenly clear why Sanji covered one up so much: they were mismatched and weird, much like the cook himself.
Zoro couldn’t stop the laugh that rumbled out of Sanji’s lips at the sight, his shoulders shaking as he strained to keep his eyes open. Sanji’s laughter was clearly far less restrained than his own, a sensation that tried to envelop his entire body from head to toe. Not only were his eyes watering but his ribs had begun to hurt and he could feel a twitch in his legs as if they wanted to kick too. His emotions felt amplified in Sanji’s body, making him feel out of control and Zoro hated that.
Hastily he yanked his hand away to let the hair fall back into place but the damage was already done. The usually perfectly styled mane of hair had gotten mussed up by that single touch alone, fluffing up at the roots and parting slightly in the middle. The ocean blue of Sanji’s iris peeked at him through the gap, mirth bleeding into the very pupil and creasing up his cheeks. Ugh, even if Zoro was used to reigning in his laughter it didn’t seem to matter if Sanji’s body was just going to go ahead without him.
As the laughter finally quelled, Zoro felt a strangeness in his throat. A sort of itch that he couldn’t quite place, and when he reached his hand to touch it he noticed his fingers felt slightly stiff. The ache in the back of his head had dulled by now but it still lingered, the pieces falling into place as Zoro figured out what it was.
Ah, cravings. Now that he thought about it, his lips felt weirdly uncomfortable, always slightly parted when he looked into the mirror. As if there was something missing, and it didn’t take much to realise the problem. Sanji’s body was desperate for a hit of nicotine but he wasn’t going to give it what it wanted.
Even if Zoro had felt inclined to try smoking a cigarette, he didn’t have any with him. Sanji’s pockets were empty and since the cook didn’t sleep in his usual jacket, Zoro suspected that was where they were hidden. A smart move given how flimsy the packets always looked, but in his confusion and haste to see what had happened Zoro hadn’t bothered to grab any other clothing. He’d even left his swords in his bed, though honestly he felt a little naked without them. If he could cope with that, then Sanji’s body could deal with this.
For a moment Zoro could have sworn Sanji’s pulse had sped up and as he laid his hand on his chest to try and get a sense of his heartbeat, that stirring from earlier cropped up again. Even though the shirt he could feel the warmth of Sanji’s skin and it was a little difficult to keep himself composed.
He’d never have said it aloud but Zoro had had a crush on the cook for a while now. It was one of the things that he always brushed off when it came to mind, not just because they were crewmates but because Sanji had always been so forthright with his love of women and distaste for men. What was the point in trying when he knew what the result was going to be? The thought of touching Sanji’s body outside of a fight had been nothing more than a lofty dream – only to be imagined and never experienced.
Being stuck in Sanji’s body changed that though. Sure, it wasn’t the cook and it wouldn’t be his reactions but Sanji’s body was now literally at Zoro’s fingertips. He could touch and look as much as he wanted — and without Sanji even having a clue.
Zoro should have been ashamed by that thought. He should have second-guessed and judged himself for even thinking it. Alas, the flutter of guilt lasted a mere moment, swallowed up by Sanji’s heartbeat drumming against his fingers. He couldn’t tell who the excitement belonged to, whether it was the cook’s body thrilled by the forbidden or his own mind running amok from possibility. Zoro took a breath to try and calm himself but it made no difference. His meditation skills didn’t seem of any use right now.
The heat rising in Zoro’s face had him glancing back in the mirror, seeing the telltale glow of red burning across Sanji’s cheeks. Oh, why was the bastard so goddamn expressive? The glint of arousal in his eyes was way too obvious, tempting Zoro with the illusion that Sanji wanted him to give in just as much as he did. Weirdly enough the cook looked coy about it too, though Zoro knew both of them were less than shy about these types of endeavours usually. His own hesitance made Sanji look even more appealing, breaking down the stupid front he’d put up about looking for something to embarrass him with.
His gaze remained trained on the mirror as Zoro cautiously moved his hand, dragging Sanji’s fingers to the top-most button on his shirt. A deft flick of his fingers and it came undone, baring more of that creamy skin he’d often fantasised about. If Zoro could have he would have dipped his head down to taste it for himself but since that was an impossibility he just swallowed in his throat. The slow bob of Sanji’s Adam’s apple was erotic, supercharging Zoro’s need to see more of him.
Before Zoro really had time to register what he was doing, all the buttons on Sanji’s shirt had given way under his fingers. He’d even tugged the hem from under Sanji’s trousers, getting the last few that had remained hidden to his eyes. Zoro straightened up a little bit to get a better look, his hands tensing into fists as his gaze travelled over Sanji’s skin. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen before, of course, and yet Zoro felt a tingle down his spine all the same.
To call Sanji a prude would have been inaccurate given his openly lustful antics, but when it came to the cook’s own body it was the only word that came to mind. Sanji rarely if ever showed off his skin, deigning only to do so when it would be inappropriate not to. Zoro had caught glimpses here and there in the bathroom, sly glances when he thought the cook wasn’t looking, but it couldn’t compare to this. With each breath he watched the rise and fall of Sanji’s torso, the way his muscles shifted with his ribs. The peek at the column of skin wasn’t enough, causing him to shrug his way out of Sanji’s shirt and let it fall behind him.
Somehow the fact that Sanji’s nipples were a soft pink was a surprise, and Zoro simply couldn’t stop staring at them where they poked out from the cook’s chest. Hard already, though it was difficult to say what the cause was. Zoro found himself reaching toward the mirror before he corrected himself, coughing awkwardly as he laid his palm flat on Sanji’s torso.
This whole situation was a mindfuck in and of itself so it was no wonder that he was getting confused. Remembering that what he was seeing was a reflection, not the real thing. Bittersweet but Zoro could live with that, allowing the consistency of the thudding heartbeat to keep him grounded. Was it his own heartbeat or was it Sanji’s? A troubling question that had no true answer, both correct and yet incorrect at the same time.
As much as it calmed him, it also made Zoro falter, wondering if perhaps he was taking this too far after all. It was one thing to be attracted to the bastard, but to take advantage of this situation? It’d probably be his only chance, but… did that make it right?
Zoro stared into the mirror and met Sanji’s gaze. Why did he feel so nervous and hesitant, second-guessing and overthinking his decisions once he’d made them? For him it was almost unheard of, and as far as he knew, the cook was as stubborn as he was. It certainly seemed that way at least – when Sanji had made up his mind he never backed down no matter how wrong he was and Zoro had kind of respected that, sort of.
Frustrated with himself for being so wishy-washy, Zoro took the plunge and cupped one of Sanji’s pecs in his palm. It was warmer than he’d expected, the stiff nipple poking into his flesh as if desperate for the attention. His cock throbbed as he looked at Sanji groping himself in the mirror, legs splayed outward and bent up at the knee. He hadn’t even remembered getting into that position but he was definitely pleased by the sight of it, the subtle bulge at the front of Sanji’s too-tight pants drawing his eye. Though his intention perhaps had been to take his time and explore, Zoro didn’t resist reaching down to give it a squeeze.
The touch was far more intense than Zoro had expected, drawing a gasp from his lips and a flush of embarrassment as he realised just how sensitive the cook was. It had been a gentle grope at best yet it felt like someone had given him a full-blown stroke, making his stomach feel tight and the heat in his gut to coil tighter. Shit.
His whole head suddenly felt like it was on fire, the urge to rip off his pants overwhelming. Zoro didn’t even bother trying to resist it, shifting both hands to yank at the cook’s stupid belt impatiently. A few rough tugs of his fingers and it finally came undone, the sleek leather sliding through the stiff metal and revealing the button and zipper underneath. Zoro agitatedly flicked the button open and dragged down the zip, wondering why the hell Sanji made this action so difficult. He personally didn’t bother with all this faff: going to the bathroom was annoying enough on its own without adding extra steps!
As Sanji’s underwear was revealed and a small dark spot caught his attention, Zoro felt somewhat embarrassed. Getting this wound up over something so little wasn’t like him and even if it was Sanji’s reaction and not his own, it didn’t seem to matter in this moment. His eyes darted back to the mirror as he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of Sanji’s stupidly tight pants, anchoring his feet to the floor as he lifted his hips to drag them down.
Sanji’s reflection looked back at him, cheeks flushed that alluring red, his legs sliding out of the trousers smooth like butter. The sight was so stunning that Zoro almost stopped in his tracks to stare, coughing low in his throat when the pants were tangled around Sanji’s ankles. The hesitation only made it made enticing, his own stupid delay making it appear as if Sanji was embarrassed by him staring so much. That thought sparked a hot bolt of arousal to jump to his groin, the idea of Sanji being shy with him more of a turn on than he had thought it’d be.
“Pervert,” he mumbled, to himself, to Sanji’s reflection, the cook’s voice low and smokey and not helping the situation in the slightest.
Somehow, Zoro had never fantasised about that particular option. Whenever he’d had thoughts of seducing the cook it had always been the aftershock of a fight, some sort of challenge that he hadn’t let Sanji back down from. Brash and aggressive, powered by bravado, a hurried romp where they didn’t have time to think let alone get shy. The possibility of it being anything more intimate than that had felt unrealistic, so out of character that it hadn’t been worth thinking about.
Zoro met Sanji’s gaze in the mirror, shivers of excitement running up and down his spine. Perhaps it wasn’t likely but it still riled him up, causing him to tug the trousers off Sanji’s ankles in a rush.
He had to take a moment to breathe when Sanji’s legs were finally bare, his gaze dropping to look over every inch of that pale skin. The thickness of Sanji’s thighs, the darker hair that began around his knee and stopped just short of his foot, greedily devouring the sight right down to the perfectly manicured toes. His legs seemed impossibly long, stretching forwards for what felt like an eternity. Zoro felt stupid for being so enraptured, his breath still shaky as he spread Sanji’s legs and looked back to the mirror.
Now clad in only his boxers and the blush across his cheeks, Sanji looked more appealing than ever. It was enough to make Zoro want to pounce forwards, to tumble Sanji’s reflection to the floor, but he had just enough awareness to keep himself in check. The golden frame of the mirror’s edge reminded him of where he was, that though this was reality it was also just fantasy too. Zoro laid a hand on his thigh, watching with bated breath as Sanji’s reflection carefully trailed his fingers down his leg.
The hairs on Sanji’s skin seemed to prickle at the touch, tickling his fingertips as goosebumps rose on his flesh. The warmth in Zoro’s gut grew deeper, almost making him choke on his own spit from surprise. Damn, was the cook genuinely this sensitive? So much that his own fleeting caress could make him feel like he was burning up from the inside out? Sanji’s body was so responsive it was like the poor bastard had never been touched before, not even by himself. Was he not taking care of his business properly? That would explain why he was so eager and overexcitable whenever a woman was around…
That single thought soured Zoro’s mood instantly, causing his hand to grip tighter than he was intending into Sanji’s flesh. Right, yeah, the cook’s excitement was always for women, wasn’t it. Never for guys, not in a million years, but at least right now he could benefit from it too. The fact that Sanji would hate this if he knew about it only spurred Zoro on – whether the cook liked it or not he was going to cum from another guy touching him.
When Zoro pulled his hand away, he left behind bright red fingerprints on Sanji's skin. Ones so dark he wasn't sure if they'd fade into obscurity, looking like they might turn to bruises instead. Evidence he'd been there, that he'd done something, and though he probably should have become nervous of that Zoro couldn't help but revel in it. He felt soothed by it almost, dragging his hand back to Sanji's crotch to give him another squeeze through the underpants.
The wet spot from before had worsened, the flimsy fabric sticking to his palm but Zoro didn't find it unpleasant. His own touch made his stomach feel like a pit of lava, a light stroke enough to make Sanji's toes curl. If Zoro wasn't careful this was going to be over before it had begun, and it was with that in mind that he hurriedly gripped at the waistband of the boxers to get them out of the way.
As he peeled them down Sanji's skin, Zoro's breath caught in his throat at the sight of the cook's cock slowly peeking out. It was just as flushed as his face was, a hypnotic dark pink that had saliva building in Zoro's mouth. Belatedly he realised he'd stopped looking at the mirror entirely, staring down at his own stomach for a closer view. Precum pearled on the tip of Sanji's erection, a cloudy white that had Zoro licking his lips in anticipation. What he wouldn’t have given in that moment for the opportunity to lick it away, to draw Sanji’s cock slowly into his mouth and give him a careful suck.
From his exploration so far Zoro could tell the sensation would be intense, probably ripping a strangled moan from the cook’s lips in barely a second. With how keyed up Sanji’s body was right now, it’d probably have made him lose it too, so it was a blessing and a curse that he couldn’t do it.
For a fleeting moment, Zoro wondered if he actually could. Sanji’s body was so flexible that the idea didn’t seem all that crazy, but his earlier failure was looming in the back of his head, warning him not to try. Who knew what stupid thing he’d mess up if he tried to suck Sanji’s dick? Probably end up poking one of the cook’s eyes out. Best not to risk that.
Instead Zoro pulled Sanji’s boxers off entirely, leaving them wrapped around one ankle as he splayed his legs and wrapped his hand around the cook’s aching cock. He wasn’t sure where to look when he did his first stroke – whether it’d be better to see the view in the mirror or up close and personal. He brushed his thumb over the head in thought, startled by the deep rumbling moan that tore itself from his lips. The noise felt so loud in the empty storage room as it echoed off the walls, embarrassing and arousing him even more.
Oh fuck, was Sanji always this loud when he touched himself? Zoro had never heard him make a sound like that before, lending credence to the thought that the cook barely touched himself at all. How could he if there was the chance of someone overhearing him? Sanji’s wank sessions were probably few and far between, tucked into hidden corners on the ship where he was sure he wouldn’t get caught.
The sudden image of Sanji sneaking his way to the gym just to get off flooded Zoro’s head, making him bite down hard on Sanji’s lip. It was probably the safest place on the entire ship for something like that, so high above the other floors that sound wouldn’t carry. Unofficially the place was his lair, his domain, and the thought of Sanji invading it just for something like that made Zoro’s head spin. He couldn’t stop himself from closing his eyes and imagining Sanji sitting on his bench, a hand clasped over his mouth as the other worked furiously up and down between his thighs.
Pleasure surged hot and immediate in Zoro’s stomach and he had to pull his hand away from his crotch to prevent himself from cumming straight away. He forced his eyes open and gasped for air, the very tips of his earlobes tingling as his gaze fell back on the mirror. The precum that had been pearling before was now dribbling straight down Sanji’s shaft, a copious amount that made Zoro breathe hard through his nose in an effort to calm down. Crap, he’d been too close to ending this prematurely.
What was the point of all this if Zoro blew his load with his stupid eyes shut? He felt ridiculous for getting carried away but at the same time he knew it wasn’t entirely his fault. He wasn’t the one to blame for Sanji being so fucking sensitive, but if he wasn’t extremely careful he wasn’t going to get the chance to explore everything that he wanted to. He felt like he’d barely gotten started.
Zoro met Sanji’s gaze evenly in the mirror, staring him down as if a look alone would magically convey to the cook’s body not to fuck this up for them. Sanji stared him down in response, looking every bit as petulant as Zoro would have expected. He was a second away from berating him for being so obstinate when Zoro realised the most obvious thing.
Not only could he touch whatever he wanted, he could say whatever he wanted too. No one would hear him or even try to stop him.
Zoro’s entire stomach tensed at that realisation, Sanji’s bottom lip slipping from between his teeth as he stared intently at the cook’s mouth. Shit, shit, shit. The amount of power afforded to him right now felt insane, and his head spun as his mind conjured all manner of filthy things he could say. Stereotypical things like ‘your cock’s so big’ to ‘come over here and fuck me already’ lingered on his tongue but there was something else Zoro would rather hear in Sanji’s rough, lust-filled voice.
“...Zoro,”
The sound of his own name on Sanji’s lips caused Zoro to shudder, his vision getting hazy at the edges. It was dizzying to hear it said like that, a sound he could easily get addicted to, and he couldn’t stop himself from saying it again, this time lower and with more intent.
“Zoro,” Zoro repeated, fighting down his own sense of stupidity at saying his own name. “Zoro.” He didn’t stop until it felt natural, the pitch changing and shifting with each utterance, Sanji’s voice getting rougher and lower til his insides squirmed at the sound of it.
Zoro’s skin was tingling even more now, the seductive glance of Sanji’s reflection beckoning him to continue doing something else. His hand reclaimed its grip on the cook’s cock, giving a gentle slow stroke to test the waters. Still so sensitive, too sensitive, precum leaking from the tip without abandon and slicking up the palm of his hand. It was going to be so so hard not to cum, but Zoro wasn’t anywhere near satisfied yet.
He licked his lips just to wet them, finally moving his other arm from where it had laid uselessly at his side. It was with careful precision that he trailed them up Sanji’s thigh, twisting his wrist to caress delicately over Sanji’s stomach towards his chest. Even that much felt dangerous but Zoro pressed on, catching the edge of a nipple with Sanji’s middle finger. He didn’t resist his urge to grasp onto it, pinching it between his thumb and forefinger as he watched Sanji’s mouth fall open on a gasp.
“Fuck,” The word rumbled out of his throat unchecked as a rush of heat travelled straight from his chest and right into his dick. “Zoro, please,”
Sanji’s cock pulsed in his palm, desperately nudging into his skin like it couldn’t stand waiting any longer, and Zoro—Zoro struggled to control himself in the face of Sanji begging. Intrinsically he knew it was himself but that didn’t stop Zoro from wanting to give in to it. He slid his hand down from Sanji’s cock to grasp harshly onto his balls, attempting to stave off orgasm with a little bit of pain as a distraction.
Against his expectations though, the tight grip only made Sanji’s cock throb harder, as if delighted by the sensation. Zoro couldn’t tell whether that was his own enjoyment or not, but the deep moan that echoed around the room indicated it wasn’t just him.
Zoro felt dizzy and stupid from the urge to cum, still somewhat taken aback by how easy it was to get Sanji to this point. It was as if there was nothing that wouldn’t push Sanji over the edge, from the slightest breeze to the deepest pain that Zoro could imagine. His entire body felt like nothing more than a pile of oversensitive nerves and the ache low in his stomach was becoming more and more unbearable by the second.
Sanji’s breathing was already ragged and though Zoro tried to gulp down as much air as he could, none of it seemed to be getting to his brain. He let go of Sanji’s balls to reach up and rest his forehead on the back of his hand, shakily peering over into the mirror as his jaw hung open uselessly.
The sight of Sanji so flushed, desperate and on the edge made Zoro groan aloud in frustration. Even the way he peered through his eyelashes was like a plead for Zoro not to stop, his skin coated in a sheen of sweat that dampened the very tips of his hair. Fuck, Zoro couldn’t focus like this at all. The harder he tried to fight it, the worse it was getting, making it feel like only a matter of time before Sanji’s body betrayed him. In a more normal circumstance Zoro would have been able to do something about that, but on his own and with no one else to ground him or pull his hands away it felt inevitable.
Zoro didn’t want it to go down like that. If Sanji’s body was going to cum sooner rather than later, he’d prefer it to be on purpose instead of an accident. Zoro took a few deep breaths to try and calm himself as he shifted Sanji’s weight, planting the cook’s feet firmly on the floor. He wasn’t entirely sure of how this was going to work but Zoro laid a hand behind himself anyway, slowly lifting Sanji’s hips from the floor and leaning back.
His other hand returned to its position near Sanji’s cock, not quite touching it for fear that Sanji would instantly combust from that small touch alone. Zoro’s eyes scanned the mirror greedily, awkwardly trying to find an angle where he could see what he was looking for. He drank in the sight of Sanji’s long legs, following the muscle with his eye until he finally saw the rounded curve of the cook’s gorgeous ass. Tight and perky, so small he probably could have grabbed both cheeks in one hand if he’d tried.
The muscle was so tightly clenched he couldn’t see between them, only what might have been a glimpse of Sanji’s hole, a slightly darker pink that was tucked away and barely visible. No matter how he shifted his legs it didn’t change anything, frustrating him as the arm he used for support started to twinge. Oh, damn it. Fuck it all.
Disappointed but oddly determined not to give up, Zoro carefully grasped the head of Sanji’s cock in his palm. Even if he couldn’t see everything he was still going to watch Sanji cum like this, legs spread and his ass on show for Zoro’s enjoyment. He licked his lips as he rocked Sanji’s hips up, fucking into his fist as slowly as he could, trying to savour the feeling and the view as long as possible.
With each jerk of his hips upward it felt like Zoro could see a little more, struggling to keep his vision focused as pleasure assaulted him. The world blurred at the edges but Zoro didn’t care, Sanji’s moans echoing around the room in time with each thrust. He was almost so focused that he forgot to breathe, feeling a burning in his lungs as he drew in a sharp breath and squeezed his hand tight.
“Zoro—”
By now calling his own name had stopped feeling strange altogether, a sort of detachment from his own motions making it easier to pay attention. Sanji’s thighs flexed and trembled as he thrust up hard, his toes digging into the wood for stability as the sweat built on his skin. He could feel Sanji’s limbs tingling from exertion, his stomach so tight that he wasn’t sure how he was managing to hold on.
His heel slipped across the floor for only a moment, but it was enough for Zoro to finally see Sanji’s tight pink hole, clenched and looking downright delicious. The thought of sticking his tongue into it made Zoro’s vision white out completely and Sanji’s loud cry of satisfaction rang out through the room as his cock pulsed hard in his hand.
Zoro choked on the shout of his own name, breaking off into a deep groan as his arm gave out behind him. His head hit the floor but the shock was no match for the climax running through his body, hot streaks of liquid splashing up his torso as all his muscles seemed to clamp up at once. The twitching of his stomach was so intense that it hurt, and even with his eyes open Zoro couldn’t see a damn thing through the white spots dancing in front of his eyes. He felt so dazed and feverish that thoughts stopped happening entirely, only vaguely aware of his legs sliding flatly in front of him. Truth be told, Zoro felt like he was going to pass out, more than ready for sleep to coddle him in its warm embrace.
Reality, of course, was not so kind to him. Instead of falling asleep he slowly came back to himself, his vision beginning to clear until he could see the dim lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. For the first time in his life, Zoro noticed the different markings in each wooden board, lazily following the patterns with his eyes as he caught his breath.
Zoro wasn’t sure how long he stayed like that, splayed out on his back and staring blearily up at the ceiling. All of his muscles felt like they’d turned to liquid after an orgasm that intense, and even the uncomfortable hard wooden floor couldn’t take away from the afterglow. Every breath he drew in through his mouth felt sharp on his lungs, the pounding of Sanji’s heart still making blood rush to his ears. Intense didn’t feel like a strong enough word to describe it – it’d been nothing like what he’d ever experienced before. Something that strong from what was really very little made Zoro feel many things: embarrassment obviously, but jealousy too. In some ways it felt like he hadn’t even earned it, not having scratched the very surface of what he’d do to the cook if given the opportunity.
His eyes snapped open wide as he forced himself into a sitting position, staring down at Sanji’s hips. The cook’s cock had long gone flaccid by now but the evidence of his enjoyment was written all over his skin in thick spurts of creamy white that had shot right up his chest. Zoro swallowed in his throat as he looked down, idly chewing the edge of Sanji’s lip.
The one thing he’d really been interested in he hadn’t touched at all. Just thinking about it had pushed him over the edge, but now… Well, he was calmer now, at least physically. Sanji’s body felt sluggish but Zoro’s mind was quickly becoming focused, razor sharp and eager to continue exploring the parts of Sanji’s body he’d missed out on. In this regard, the mirror wasn’t going to do Zoro any favours, so he stopped paying attention to it completely.
There was a lump in Zoro’s throat as he bent Sanji’s legs at the knee, taking a deep breath to try and calm down. Excitement was pulsing in his veins all over again but this time Zoro didn’t have to try and repress it. That in itself felt like a blessing and as he reached a hand to his mouth and slowly sucked in two fingers, he couldn’t stop himself from shuddering. Maybe this would be going too far, perhaps he had already crossed the line more than he ought, but nothing was going to get in his way now. Zoro was beyond the concepts of right and wrong, too engrossed in possibility.
He slipped his fingers from his lips with a wet pop, not even hesitating before reaching down between Sanji’s thighs. He hadn’t really seen Sanji’s hole but he could definitely feel it, his fingers brushing lightly against puckered skin that felt as hot as a furnace. Zoro bit his lip as he steeled himself for what he was about to do, knowing beyond the shadow of a doubt that whatever reaction came it was absolutely going to belong to the cook. When it came to this particular area, Zoro didn’t find it all that enjoyable, only so-so and not really worth his efforts. He’d always imagined Sanji finding it pleasurable, and now that he had the opportunity to find out it was making him a bit nervous.
Zoro pushed past his nerves to press his fingers more firmly on Sanji’s skin, grunting softly in his throat as a prickling sensation bloomed at his fingertips. As he began rubbing in gentle circles it only seemed to get stronger, the muscle relaxing until he poked at its centre. It gave way with very little persuasion, seeming to suck on his fingertip as if it knew what he was doing. Not just knew but was eager for it, the embers of arousal building in his gut as he pushed his finger in to the first joint.
If Zoro had thought Sanji’s body had been feverish before, it was nothing in comparison to how hot it felt now. Sanji’s hole was clinging tightly to his finger like it didn’t want it to leave, practically trying to pull it deeper all by itself. Zoro released the breath he’d been holding, his face burning like it was on fire, stunned and aroused beyond all belief though he wasn’t even hard yet. Oh, so this is what it felt like for other men. Why they seemed more than eager every time he’d done the same to someone else. Now he could fully understand it—
“Oh you bastard, what the fuck are you doing??”
The sound of his own voice booming from behind him was startling but it wasn’t because it was sudden. Something about how it sounded was off, far more uncomfortable than the knowledge that he’d been caught red-handed. Zoro tugged his finger out quickly, turning his head to look at the source of the noise, unsurprised by his own body standing in the doorway. It looked like him, no doubt, but by now Zoro understood what—or rather, who—was lurking inside.
Zoro’s initial instinct was to try and cover himself up but he resisted the impulse and simply stared back at the angry Sanji with as calm an expression as he could muster. It was too late to hide what he’d been doing now, but as it wasn’t his own body he had nothing else to hide here, did he?
“The hell do you want?” Zoro countered, unashamed as he turned to look at Sanji full-on. It was bizarre to see the mortification written all over his own face as Sanji took in the view, clearly offended and distressed at seeing Zoro play with his body like that. The hands stuffed into the pockets of his samurai coat clenched into fists, straining the material at the seams until it looked like they were about to burst.
Zoro just watched with an air of nonchalance, idly twisting his wrist to run his fingers through the slowly drying cum on Sanji’s chest. Giving a little bit of a show now that he’d been caught, carefully looking over his own body to see what, if anything, the cook had been doing to him. There was a small tear in the knee of his own trousers, clearly snagged on something or other as Sanji had been searching for him. Had he really just been stumbling around looking for his body? His own skin seemed a little too flushed for that.
“You rat bastard,” Sanji spat, though the tone of Zoro’s voice was a higher pitch than it ought to have been. “I can’t believe you’d— How dare you—” The poor bastard spluttered over his words, seemingly unable to finish a sentence from his shock.
“Wank off?” Zoro helpfully suggested, looking down to the cum on his fingers and rubbing it with his thumb. It was so thick it clung to his fingers even when he spread them apart, showing Sanji as if it was a new toy that he was proud of. Sanji was practically trembling in rage but Zoro couldn’t help himself from bringing his hand to his mouth, licking some of the sticky substance from his finger entirely in provocation. “You apparently haven’t been doing it, so—”
“Oh, I see. That’s how you want to play it, huh?” Sanji suddenly sounded dangerous, his eye glinting red with haki as he stared at Zoro.
Crap. Zoro hadn’t thought this one through. Not only was he in Sanji’s body that he had very little control over, but he was naked to boot and all too vulnerable for whatever ass-kicking Sanji decided to employ on him now. He knew his own strength too well to assume he’d be able to take it in stride, especially without the usual buffer of clothing to protect his more sensitive areas. Sanji’s sensitive areas, as it turned out, and Zoro felt a chill run down his spine at how much more it would hurt to take a blow in Sanji’s body.
Just as Zoro was about to throw his hands up in defence and try to apologise, the dangerous aura emanating from his own body dissipated. His shoulders relaxed and Sanji took his hands from his pockets, studying Zoro’s fingernails as if he too, could not care less about this whole situation. Zoro blinked in surprise, trying to catch up with what was going on, and then Sanji stared right at him, his face impassive.
“Sanji.” The cook said, in Zoro’s voice, and Zoro jumped up from where he’d been sitting from his outrage.
He didn’t have a leg to stand on from a moral perspective, but oddly enough Zoro felt more violated by that single word than he ever could have from Sanji doing anything else. He darted over as fast as his legs would take him but Sanji stepped smoothly to the side, dodging his grab with a finesse Zoro wasn’t sure he could have managed himself.
“How fucking dare you—!!” Zoro gasped, turning on Sanji’s heel and making another lunge for the cook. Again, he missed, almost landing face-first onto the floor for his trouble.
“What?” Sanji said sweetly, Zoro’s voice sounding even stranger and more uncomfortable in that tone of voice. “Don’t like the taste of your own medicine, hah?”
Zoro stared blankly at the floor as Sanji’s blatant taunt washed over his skin. No, he didn’t like the taste of his own goddamn medicine at all, but what struck him more in that instant was that Sanji thought these were comparable on any level. Zoro took a deep breath and lifted his head, his gaze sliding up his own body from his new position on the floor. He could see underneath the coat now, and as his gaze settled on his own crotch, the blush that overtook his face almost melted his brain.
The sight of his own raging erection made Zoro feel unable to speak. His eyes were transfixed on it so firmly it was hard to focus on anything else, even as Sanji continued gloating above him. There was no way in hell that Sanji hadn’t been fiddling with Zoro’s body too, not if he was that fucking hard. Unlike the cook, it took him a while to get so aroused, and definitely not from such a quick exchange.
Zoro pushed himself into a sitting position, hurriedly looking over the state of his sash now that he wasn’t so distracted. It was a mess too, and not the usual mess it became from him tossing and turning in his sleep. The knot was on the wrong side, for one thing, and the way it was wrapped was as if it had been done in a rush, criss-crossing exactly the opposite that it usually did. As if tied by someone who was right-handed and not fully paying attention.
“Looks like you were having some fun yourself,” Zoro loudly cut in, stopping whatever stupid things Sanji had been saying right in their tracks. As the cook looked down to him bewildered, Zoro reached up his hand, grabbing firmly at his own crotch.
“Wh-Whoah!!!” Sanji practically screamed as he slapped Zoro’s hand away, but before Zoro could register the sensation, the world seemed to freeze in its tracks. Everything looked like it was melting before his very eyes, flipping around and making Zoro suddenly dizzy.
“Don’t touch your fucking dick with my hand—!” Sanji hissed, but this time his voice sounded normal. Zoro blinked as he looked down at the nude cook sitting on the floor in seiza, his own palm stinging from where it had slapped at Sanji’s.
It took a moment for him to realise that wasn’t the only part of his body that hurt; a stinging sensation high on his shoulders and deep in the pits of his stomach. Not just arousal but something else, a familiar feeling that Zoro was having difficulty placing right now. He lifted his stinging hand to pull the robe away, seeing long scratch marks running from his collarbone right down his ribs. Before he could comment on it, he heard Sanji choke in surprise, glancing down to see him desperately trying to hide his body from Zoro’s sight.
Oh.
By the time Zoro had realised they’d swapped back, Sanji had started scrambling across the floor and grabbing at his clothes. He watched the cook’s ass in interest, finally getting to see the sight of his hole in its full glory, slightly wet and a little bit loose. His cock throbbed hard in excitement and Zoro stepped over to lay a hand on it before he could think it through.
Soft and supple, firm yet yielding, fitting perfectly into his palm just like he thought it would. This was truly the stuff dreams were made of, but Zoro didn’t have time to enjoy his grope before Sanji suddenly twisted out of his grip. Time seemed to move in slow motion as Sanji twisted onto his back, Zoro barely able to make a noise of confusion before he hit directly in the face with the full-force of Sanji’s foot.
He must have gone flying because the next thing Zoro knew, he was half-way through the wall, his entire head stinging and throbbing in pain. He yelled more from surprise than agony and yanked himself out but by the time he’d righted himself in the next room, Sanji and his clothes were dashing out of the door.
“Fucking pervert!!” Sanji hissed behind him, slamming the door so loudly that the echo of it through the room was deafening. It made Zoro wince long enough for the cook to get away, and though he could have tried chasing him, Zoro knew Sanji had the advantage now. Even if he set off immediately, he was going to wind up lost in the stupid maze of their ship yet again, with no glimpse of the cook in sight.
Agitated and confused by this sequence of events, all Zoro could do was rub at the throbbing bump on the side of his jaw. He couldn’t tell which part of his head hurt more or why, but one thing was for damn sure:
The next time Robin told one of her weird-ass ghost stories, Zoro was going to pay attention.