Archive of Our Own ^beta

It was sizzling.

Never had they passed through a heat wave like the one they were in now. Sanji didn’t know if it was due to a nearby island or if it was just another one of those strange, unexplainable phenomena in the New World, but the sun was blazing in the cloudless sky like a beacon, exerting her heat over everything, everywhere.

It draped itself over the entire ship, the entire sea, the air itself practically crackling like the griddle he used to sweat over at the Baratie when he worked the line. The ship’s railing was scorching to the touch, as were the ropes of all the rigging and all the door handles, the windows shimmering in the light like they were mirages. Sanji nearly thought the ocean itself would be hot if he decided to jump in. It was almost even too hot to smoke, which was annoying, but he powered through anyway.

He barricaded himself in the galley where it was marginally cooler, set on making refreshments for everyone, steadfastly ignoring Luffy and Usopp’s needling.

“But Sanji!” Luffy whined, hopping like an excited bug even through the sweat, his hat pulled down especially low over his eyes to block out the sun. “We wanna see if you can cook an egg out on deck! Please!”

“Yeah, c’mon Sanji!” Usopp encouraged.

“Absolutely not.”

And he locked them out of the kitchen and felt no remorse doing so. As if he was going to ruin a perfectly good egg that way.

“But I’ll eat it anyway!” came Luffy’s muffled protest through the door.

“Not a chance!” Sanji called. Even if that were the case, even if he didn’t doubt that it was hot enough outside to probably work, he’d be insulted to serve something like that. Dirty from the wood and totally unevenly cooked—the edges would burn before the whites would even get a chance to set.

Once he was left alone, he spent the rest of the afternoon flitting around, trying not to open the fridge too much to conserve their energy. Franky mentioned wanting to restock their cola on the next island they went to, and the Sunny was probably working overtime to keep all the internal systems and mechanisms cool while they sailed. Franky himself was down in the guts of the ship, keeping an eye on everything.

Shaved ice would be an excellent pick me up, he decided. It was easy to throw together, and he could tailor it to everyone’s taste. Candy syrup for Chopper and Luffy, fruity and fresh for everyone else. And for Zoro…maybe matcha. And red bean? He was sure they had some canned somewhere. It suited Zoro, and Sanji already knew that he liked it.

Once assembled, Sanji delivered the treats to the rest of the crew, whose faces lit up when their tailor-made ice cups appeared before them. He gave Nami and Robin an extra heaping of fruit with theirs, and left everyone else with instructions to drop their used dishes back in the kitchen once they were done before heading back up. Everyone was below deck, trying to stick to the cooler areas.

Everyone except…

Sanji rolled his eyes. He told Zoro not to train under the sun while it was so strong, but of course that only made him stay out on the deck because Sanji told him not to.

He hadn’t seen the Mosshead since the morning though. It was already hot at that time, and it had only gotten hotter as the day went on. But he figured Zoro would come lumbering into the kitchen if he needed anything, just like always.

Apparently not.

When he found Zoro on the upper deck right behind the lion’s head, he fucker was fast asleep, sprawled out on the wood. Like he was the egg being fried.

“Oi, Marimo!” Sanji tapped his foot impatiently next to Zoro’s head, the platter with Zoro’s shaved ice balanced in one hand. If it were just a glass of water, he might have poured it over Zoro’s head, just to be petty about it. “Special delivery or whatever.”

Zoro made a grumbling noise from his chest, curling his lip upwards in sleep. God, it was hot. There was already sweat starting to gather at the nape of Sanji’s neck and his temples, the heat pressing in through the linen shirt he was wearing, rolled up at the sleeves. How could the Mosshead sleep in this?

“Zoro, wake up,” he said again, this time tapping the side of his foot lightly into Zoro’s hip.

At that, Zoro did wake up, hissing and recoiling from the touch. He opened his eye to a squint as he sat up, letting out another hiss.

“Oh shit,” Sanji said. Now that Zoro was moving, Sanji could see what had become of him. “Oh shit!” he repeated, pointing with his free hand at Zoro’s body.

“What?” Zoro frowned, reaching one hand up to ruffle through his hair. At the movement, he hissed again, sucking in through his teeth. He looked at his arm, extending it out, then down the rest of his body. “Oh shit.”

“You idiot. How long were you asleep for?”

Zoro was sunburned to hell and back. Because he was training before, and because of the weather, he was wearing only a pair of board shorts—shorter than usual, ending only at about mid-thigh—and a tank top. In his sleep, he must have rucked the tank top up so that his entire midriff was exposed to the sun, and the result of all that was a magnificent set of tan lines that gave the effect of some kind of invisible crop top.

“Dunno,” Zoro said, scratching his head. “Is that for me?”

“Oh. Yeah, here. Good grief, actually, let’s take it inside. You’re going to shrivel up out here. Doesn’t that hurt?”

“No,” Zoro said, wincing as he got to his feet.

“Liar.”

“Shut up.” He reached out and pinched Sanji in the thigh. Even through his pants, Sanji could feel the heat of his hands—yeah, he was definitely sunburned.

“Quit it!” Sanji said around a laugh, evading Zoro’s next swipe. “You’re gonna make me drop your snack.”

“I’d rather have a different snack,” Zoro said, tilting his head. He successfully poked Sanji in the stomach, a sharp jab that sent something more than just pain skittering up his spine.

“Shh! Don’t be crass!”

“But everyone knows about us already.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean they want to hear your ugly sex jokes all the time.”

“It wasn’t a joke.”

Sanji looked at him with a very put-on air of disdain. The trouble was that Zoro also knew it was put-on, so he jabbed Sanji again. Damn. Should have never let the Mosshead learn to read him like that.

This time, Sanji reached out and pinched Zoro’s arm, which was red and radiating heat. He saw Zoro visibly repress his pained reaction.

“Fine,” Zoro said mulishly. “Let’s go inside. I’ll have the stupid cup of ice.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

#

Sanji couldn’t tell if it looked better or worse when they were inside the galley.

He was definitely redder outside, or maybe his skin started calming down after it stopped being exposed to the sun, but Zoro eventually shucked off the tank top altogether as he sat at the counter, tossing it onto the stool next to him. Sanji caught the way he looked uncomfortable whenever the fabric brushed against his front in a certain way. His skin was probably sensitive and overheated.

Sanji could sympathize; he always burned especially easily as a child, but now he took precautions against it. Like sunscreen and being covered up. Unlike the Marimo. Dumbass.

As Zoro ate the shaved ice with unconcealed relish, Sanji examined his skin. His back looked pretty okay since he was lying on it, but his front…Zoro was already tan to begin with, but the skin that was exposed was even darker, melting into glowing red right at the edges of the tan lines. He let his eye linger on the sharp edge of it, how it molded against his shoulders.

“Why’s it still so hot in here?” Zoro complained when he was finished with his shaved ice. “Wait, did you have any? Where’s your snack?”

“It’s not,” Sanji said. The kitchen was relatively cool, thanks to the ventilation system Franky had going on all the indoor spots. “It’s your sunburn. And I had some off the top when I was making it for everyone else.”

“I’m not sunburned. And that’s not the same.”

“Sure you’re not…”

“I’m not!” Zoro insisted. “I don’t burn.”

Sanji raised his eyebrow. “You’ve never gotten a sunburn before?”

“No, and I never will.”

“Okay, let’s go look in the mirror then, big guy.”

At that, Zoro scowled. “No. I don’t need to.”

“Oh my God.”

“Shut up!”

“You’re hopeless,” Sanji said, taking Zoro’s empty cup and setting it in the sink with the others. “I should just go and tell Chopper, right? He’ll have something to treat that.”

“No!” Zoro said quickly. “Don’t tell Chopper. Because I’m not sunburned. It’s a tan.”

Sanji just sighed and rolled his eyes. “You’re in for a hell of a night.”

Zoro smirked, his eye going hooded. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“Not like that, moron. You have no idea what it’s like, do you?”

“I still want my other snack,” Zoro said, skirting the issue. He got up from his chair and reached out to pluck playfully at one of the buttons on the front of Sanji’s shirt.

“Stop changing the subject,” Sanji said, even though he wasn’t disinterested. The way Zoro looked…it was oddly captivating. The tan lines, the redness, the heat radiating off of him. And the incongruous change in skin tone over his front and shoulders, drawing Sanji’s eye directly to the firm muscle down Zoro’s torso, which dragged to…God, the thin barrier of paler-looking skin that peeked up from above his waistband. The line there was stark, too. Sanji swallowed.

But no. No, he, unfortunately, felt it necessary that the bastard took care of himself first.

Zoro made a smug humming noise and Sanji’s eyes snapped back up to his face. Shit, he’d been caught ogling.

“Wanna play?” Zoro said plainly, openly, a lazy grin sliding across his face.

Sanji narrowed his eyes. He reached out and put his palm flat against the center of Zoro’s chest, below where the collar line of his tan started. Zoro watched silently as Sanji slid his palm upwards, feeling Zoro’s pecs jump and flex as he passed over them.

“Show off,” Sanji muttered.

Zoro was wearing a shit-eating grin that Sanji, despite himself, found terribly attractive. “You like?”

“Not bad,” Sanji allowed, palming the muscle. God, did he love Zoro’s chest. “Even if you look like a boiled lobster.”

“Oh? And you’d be into that, if I were a lobster?”

“Are you asking me to tell you if I’d still love you if you were a lobster?”

“I don’t think I need you to tell me,” Zoro said, looking pointedly down at Sanji’s hand, which was still full of Zoro’s pec.

Then Sanji brought his hand up to Zoro’s red shoulder and squeezed.

“Ow! Fuck!” Zoro jumped away and shook him off, looking betrayed.

“You need to do something about that burn,” said Sanji. “Or else I know your ass is going to be complaining-but-not-complaining all night long and I’m the one who’s going to have to deal with it.”

“I told you, I’m not burned,” Zoro insisted. Always so damn stubborn. “It’s just really hot in this room. And it’s hot as hell outside. God, why is it so hot?” He put a hand up to his red forehead, then felt his cheeks.

“When you get a sunburn,” Sanji explained patiently, “your blood flow increases to those areas. So they’re gonna feel hotter. Your temperature is probably going to be up a couple degrees from usual for the next two or three days, maybe.”

“Oh, I can get blood flow increasing to areas,” Zoro said, leering.

Sanji squeezed his shoulder again, digging his fingers in for good measure. Five white spots appeared on Zoro’s skin before they melted back into redness. Zoro expected it this time, his lips pressed together, holding back his reaction.

“Fine,” he finally said, petulant. He crossed his arms, then uncrossed them when his skin rubbed together in a way he didn’t like. Big baby. “I’ll go cool off with a cold shower. Because it’s hot outside. That’s all.”

“That’s a good idea,” Sanji said, humoring him. Part of him was mildly concerned for Zoro, but another part was highly amused. As far as sunburns went, it was pretty gnarly, but it wasn’t like Zoro was swelling up or having any other type of reaction. “Cold water, ice, stuff like that usually helps soothe burns.”

Zoro ignored the dig. “But only if you come with me.”

“Are you for real?”

Zoro nodded, looking dead serious.

Sanji sighed. “Fine, but it’s not that type of shower. And after, we need to dig up some lotion or aloe or something for all that.”

“Can’t wait,” Zoro said, snagging his discarded shirt from the chair and heading towards the door.

#

“You didn’t tell me I looked like this,” said Zoro in front of the mirror. He was naked, turning his body this way and that to inspect himself fully. Under the bathroom lights, the effect of the sun was more obvious than ever, some areas tanned and glowy while others veered into splotchy red. And of course, the tan lines—Sanji’s earlier glimpse of the one around Zoro’s waistband was now on full display, the shape of his shorts cut into his hips and thighs readily apparent. “This looks stupid as hell.”

Sanji didn’t think it looked stupid. In fact, he didn’t want to say aloud the way he thought it looked. It was horribly, horribly captivating.

“You don’t look stupid,” he said, settling on that as an appropriate form of reassurance. “Now get in the water already.”

“Ugh,” Zoro groaned. He drew a finger over the lines on his shoulders, down the neckline of his invisible tank top. Then he did the same across his hips, frowning down at himself. “Why do I look so fucking pale? I’m not pale.”

“I know you’re not,” Sanji reassured. “It’s just the contrast. It’ll even out eventually. Now get in.”

He pointed at the spray, which he had helpfully gotten started for Zoro. It wasn’t all the way cold, but just on the cooler side of room temperature so as to not shock the senses too badly.

Zoro stepped underneath the water, which immediately darkened his hair, sticking it down to his forehead. He swiped it back. “Aren’t you coming?”

“I don’t want to take a cold shower,” Sanji said archly. He was standing off to the side, a towel around his hips. “I’m just here for moral support.”

Zoro looked sour. “That wasn’t part of the deal.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sanji said, waving his hand. “Use some soap, but you probably shouldn’t lather too hard or scrub or anything like that. You’ll make it worse.”

Zoro sighed, but he did as he was told anyway. Already, Sanji could see his skin somewhat calming down, and he just knew it was feeling better for Zoro, too. He closed his eye as he soaped gingerly down his body before reaching out to turn the knob all the way, setting the water to the coldest setting.

“You’re nuts,” Sanji laughed.

Zoro hummed, his eye sealed shut. “Feels nice. You were right.”

Sanji’s mouth went dry. It was…a powerful picture: the sight of Zoro under the shower spray, water droplets sliding down his body, following all the dips and curves and ridges. Beading over reddened skin, traversing tan lines, slipping down the diagonal length of his scar. Zoro hummed again, enjoying the cool water, and Sanji swallowed. He adjusted his towel on his hips.

“I often am,” he said after a while. Zoro peeked his eye open.

“Huh?”

“Nevermind,” Sanji said quickly, shaking his head.

“I could stay under here forever,” Zoro said, turning around so that the back of his neck was receiving the brunt of the water from the shower head. He ran a hand through his hair, fingertips pink and sudsy, water dripping from his nose and chin. Around back, the tan and burn lines slowly faded, melting into his smooth, even-toned typical shade. Sanji drank in the contrast greedily, zeroed in on the sharp jut of Zoro’s hips before they sculpted back to his ass, which was free of any harsh lines.

“You’ll waste all our water,” he remembered to reply. His voice was sort of hoarse, so he cleared his throat. He flexed his hand at the towel on his hips.

“Let’s go swimming after this,” Zoro said. “I bet the ocean’ll feel even better. A nice dip.”

“The salt will probably make it worse on your skin,” Sanji said, feeling dazed as he followed a particular bead of water making its way down the length of Zoro’s earring, onto his shoulder, down his stupidly large arm, into the crook of his elbow. Never once had Sanji paid attention to the attractiveness of an elbow before, but he was paying attention now.

“Oi, Sanji,” Zoro said. Sanji made a noncommittal noise, too focused on Zoro’s elbow. What other parts of Zoro’s body had he not paid their proper due?

The bridge of Zoro’s nose was a little sunburned too, he noticed. Just a streak of red across it. It would be cute, if Zoro weren’t all naked and wet and glistening and shit.

“Sanji,” Zoro repeated, more insistently this time.

Sanji blinked. “Huh?”

“Did you actually have any of the ice stuff?”

“Huh?”

“Did you have a snack?”

“Yeah. I had the fruit and some of the toppings that I cut up for the others.” Shit, even to his own ears he sounded distracted. Zoro was going to see right through him.

“That’s not really the same.”

“It’s fine,” Sanji said dismissively. He was now fixated on Zoro’s shoulders. The lines of the tank top straps were so, so tantalizing. Sanji could imagine holding onto them for dear life.

And his ears. Were even his ears sunburned? The tips of them looked redder than usual. It was a magnificent contrast against his gold earrings. Another good gripping point…

Sanji became painfully aware of the effect this all was having on him. The towel he was wearing would soon no longer do its job to conceal it. He wished he could have a cigarette here in the bath just so his hands would have something to do other than flutter awkwardly around his hips, cracking his knuckles, feeling antsy and horny.

When Zoro finally shut off the water and shook the hair from his eye, he looked at Sanji and said, “That was great, but I still have these stupid lines.” He rubbed at the one across his midriff, as though he could erase it with a pass of his hand, then frowned when that had no effect other than to have white blooming across his sternum before melting back into red.

That was it.

“Oh, fuck this,” Sanji said, striding forward. He put one hand to the center of Zoro’s chest and pushed him back underneath the shower head.

“Oh?” Zoro looked genuinely surprised, which Sanji found a bit rich. Just minutes ago, he was making all sorts of innuendos. His shock transformed into an eager grin when Sanji turned the water back on, ignoring the ice cold shock of it as a steady patter started over them again. He was shielded from most of it by the sheer width of Zoro’s back, which he noticed with a rush of liquid heat in his belly.

Without more fuss, Sanji sank to his knees on the tile below.

“I thought you said it wasn’t that kind of shower,” Zoro said.

“Shut up.” Sanji was met with an eyeful of Zoro’s cock. He was flaccid and dripping water from the shower, but that didn’t matter. Sanji grasped it lightly, using his thumb and index fingers to push the foreskin back. A hand reached up to rest against the side of his head, water sliding down his cheek.

“And I thought you said we’d waste all our water,” Zoro said, not bothering to conceal how smug he sounded.

“Don’t worry, this won’t take long.”

With his fingers circled around the base to keep the foreskin back while Zoro was still soft, Sanji swallowed Zoro’s cock in one go, keeping his lips pliant and gentle as he sucked. Privately, he always enjoyed the feeling of blowing Zoro while he was soft, just for the pure sensation of feeling Zoro getting harder and fuller on his tongue, all because of him.

It was the same now. The hand on his head tightened as he worked, the cock on his tongue growing. Heating up. Just like the rest of Zoro, whose temperature Sanji could feel radiating from his skin even through the cold water falling over them.

“Fuck, Sanji,” Zoro groaned as Sanji swallowed around him, moving his head back and forth to stimulate more sensation. His nose was pushed up against the wiry green hairs at the base, dusted across Zoro’s pelvis. Like this, it felt like Zoro’s cock was going to grow until it was actually lodged in his throat. Maybe it would. Sanji shuddered at the thought, pleased and hungry.

He kept his hands around Zoro’s thighs as he worked, kneading the flesh and muscle there, conscious to touch only the parts that weren’t sunburned. Zoro moaned again, low and from the back of his throat. Soon, Sanji could feel the cock in his mouth reach its full hardness, and he breathed in through his nose as he pressed his tongue up against the vein on its underside.

“Is this my reward?” Zoro asked breathily, carding his fingers through Sanji’s hair in a motion that made his head go numb and fuzzy. He always loved it when Zoro did that. “For listening to you? The cold shower was your idea.”

Sanji hummed and drew back. He slicked his fist up and down Zoro’s cock as he kissed a line across the sunburn on Zoro’s hips, laving his tongue against the divide between the red skin and the regular, unburned skin. “Nah, I just feel bad ‘cause I know your sunburn is gonna hurt like a bitch later tonight. And then there’s the peeling. That’s gonna suck.”

Zoro blinked down at him. “Peeling?”

“Don’t worry your pretty head about that just yet, Marimo,” Sanji said. Then he licked a line up Zoro’s cock, stopping at the tip to rub his lips against it, letting the slit rest against his lower lip.

“You think I’m pretty?”

“Mmm. Maybe a little.”

Then he went back to work, swallowing Zoro down once again. Zoro thrust his hips slightly in time with Sanji’s motion, and he could tell that it wouldn’t be too much longer now. He knew all the signs. The fist in Sanji’s hair tightening, the sound of Zoro’s breath stuttering out of him, the little noises he made in the back of his throat when he got close.

He knew for a fact that Zoro hadn’t sunburned his dick, but the heat of it was even greater than the skin Sanji had his hands on, warm and slick with water beneath his palms.

Sanji was starting to feel frenzied from it too, his erection hanging thick and full between his legs, but he stayed on task. Damn Zoro for looking so fucking delicious with his dumb sunburn. How was Sanji expected to not eat him up?

As the pace of Zoro’s stuttering hips got quicker, deepening into a full roll, Sanji continued working his hands across Zoro’s thighs, his ass, his hips, keeping mindful of their placement. He didn’t want to irritate Zoro’s angry skin, truly, but when Zoro shifted his hips with a small gasp, Sanji’s wet hands slid up and pressed, perhaps a little too hard, into the red, raw bit right above Zoro’s waistband, where the sunburn was particularly harsh.

Zoro’s breath hitched and immediately, Sanji took his hands off. He intended to draw all the way back and say sorry, but then Zoro surged forwards, pressing his hips close, sliding his cock further into Sanji’s mouth. Sanji made a muffled noise of surprise that probably would have sounded ridiculous to anyone outside the situation, but Zoro just groaned.

“No, wait,” he murmured, his chest heaving, water glistening on his face as he curved downwards. He grabbed Sanji’s hands and put them back on his hips, bracketed right around the worst of the sunburn.

Something hotter than the skin beneath his fingers swirled in Sanji’s stomach, and he went at Zoro’s cock with renewed vigor, pressing his fingers experimentally into the tender flesh on Zoro’s lower abdomen, ignoring the pool of saliva dripping from the corners of his mouth.

That undid Zoro: Sanji’s fingers digging in, the heat emanating off of him reaching practically a fever pitch, the head of his cock nestled at the back of Sanji’s throat. He whined as he came, and Sanji swallowed it down dutifully, with relish, highly enjoying the way Zoro squirmed under his hands, feeling of Zoro’s hipbone rolling beneath the heel of his palm, separated by the layer of sensitive skin in between.

Sanji didn’t let up, though. He continued sucking even as he felt Zoro’s spent cock softening in his mouth, some part of him delighting in the idea of the entire process starting and finishing in his mouth. He let the saliva pooled under his tongue slick the path, keeping the circle of his lips soft as he hollowed out his cheeks.

“Ah, ah, fuck,” Zoro gasped, curling his knuckles into Sanji’s hair until Sanji felt the roots pulling at his scalp. Like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to pull Sanji closer or push him away yet.

Sanji hummed, rocking his head back and forth, enjoying the feel of the softer flesh rolling on his tongue. The clean, earthy taste of it, the warmth of Zoro’s come sitting in his belly.

“Okay, shit, that’s enough,” Zoro finally huffed. He tapped Sanji’s cheek, his hips twitching away, overstimulated.

Sanji sat back on his heels, satisfied with his work. Zoro looked even more flushed, the effect of the cold water negated now that he was red and heaving once again. Sanji’s cock jumped at the sight, pitifully neglected.

“Fuck, Sanji, you’re gonna kill me,” Zoro said, laughing lightly.

“My last chance,” Sanji said, getting to his feet. The towel around his hips was waterlogged and useless now, and it thwacked onto the tile as he stood up. “You’re nuts if you think I’m letting you near me when you’re peeling like bark off a dead tree.”

“I’m not gonna peel,” Zoro scoffed. He eyed Sanji’s erection critically. “Come over here.”

“Yes, you are. Your hand’s not gonna chafe from jerking me off, is it? Looks pretty burned,” Sanji retorted, even as he let himself be pulled by the arm and pressed up against the tile wall.

“If my hands chafe from getting you off,” Zoro said, crowding in close, still wet and red and beautiful, “then I consider that a pretty worthwhile injury.”

#

He didn’t know where Zoro went off to while he was busy getting dressed and re-doing out his hair so it sat right. He hadn’t planned on getting it wet during the day, but…well, the situation deemed it necessary.

When he reentered the galley, adjusting his sleeves so they sat rolled at his forearms, Zoro was already there, back in his usual green robe. The dishes were washed, and there were two scoops of ice cream sitting in one of the cups he used to serve everyone their shaved ice.

Zoro stood at the counter, drying off the last of the dishes with a clean kitchen towel. He looked, if possible, redder than before, despite the cold shower.

“Hey,” he said in greeting. “Did the dishes for ya.”

“What’s this?” Sanji asked, sitting at the counter. The ice cream in the cup was the vanilla bean he kept in the back of the freezer for when one of the girls craved something sweet. He liked to give them the high quality stuff, because no one else could really tell the difference.

“That’s for you,” Zoro said. He grabbed a spoon from the drawer and dug it into the side of the dish, then pushed it closer to Sanji. “Cause everyone else had a snack and you didn’t.”

Sanji blinked. “I told you, I did have some.”

“Yeah, and I told you that’s not the same.”

He couldn’t help it; he darted an arm out and twisted it into Zoro’s robe to pull him closer. Zoro went easily, smiling as he leaned over the counter so Sanji could press a short, sweet kiss to his lips.

“Thanks,” Sanji murmured against Zoro’s mouth.

“You’re welcome,” Zoro said, affection in his open eye.

And then Sanji dug in to enjoy his treat. Zoro came and sat next to him when he finished putting his dishes away, and Sanji noticed the way he kept rolling his shoulders and putting his hands up to his neck. The burns didn’t look all that much better.

“How’s your ‘tan’ treating you?” Sanji asked as he scooped the last dredges of the ice cream from the glass.

Zoro made a grumpy noise. He leaned forward to press his cheek against the cool tile, probably enjoying the way it felt against his overheated skin. Poor guy. “Can I tell you a secret?”

Sanji reached out and patted him on the back. “It hurts real bad, doesn’t it?”

Zoro nodded, his cheek still pressed against the counter.

“I’ll go get Chopper,” Sanji sighed.

#

Chopper, of course, was absolutely livid that he was not contacted immediately upon the discovery of Zoro’s sunburn. He dragged Zoro into the infirmary instantly, his teeth bared and pointed, yapping about the dangers of overexposure and the risks of untreated sunburn.

Zoro went to bed that night slathered in all kinds of ointments and salves from Chopper, but he seemed most concerned of all that the tan lines themselves were a bit ridiculous looking, rather than any of the pain. Only when he was alone with Sanji did he let some of his discomfort show, the rest of the time wearing his usual unaffected demeanor for the crew.

In the morning, it was just as hot as it was the previous day, but the culprit—at least Nami suspected so—came into view soon enough: some kind of resort island that boasted pristine beaches and amenities, as well as a water park, several restaurants and bars, the whole works. Luffy, of course, demanded that they stop there—the silhouettes of the tall water slides were visible from the approach, and the stars in Luffy’s eyes reached an all time brightness. Sanji was glad for the stop, especially if there was some kind of market on the island, and Franky made it his mission to gather as much bulk cola as he could for the Sunny.

It only seemed to grow hotter as the island grew larger, even with the breeze from their speed waving over the deck.

“Hey, Zoro!” Luffy popped up, poking Zoro on the chest, which appeared to be starkly pale compared to the rest of his body, until the imaginary crop top tan line ended. “You look like you’ve been toasted, but you missed a few spots!”

Zoro just scowled and batted Luffy away. It was a good thing he was easily distracted, because Luffy just laughed before he swung off, called to attention by Usopp for something or other.

After they docked, Nami disbursed enough berry for everyone, and they all scattered with a plan to meet back on the Sunny the following day.

“You’ve never been self conscious before,” Sanji said as Zoro scowled down at his body, free of his shirt again to let Chopper’s morning ointment re-application soak in. It helped that no one here seemed to be properly clothed, everyone in a state of semi-undress thanks to the heat and the resort-town nature of the place.

Sanji tried not to look too closely at Zoro, aware that they were in public, with others around them.

“It just looks dumb,” Zoro said, sulking.

Sanji rolled his eyes. “I told you, it doesn’t! And it’s normal here, more than anywhere else! Tanning is probably like a national sport here.”

Zoro hummed noncommittally. Then he pouted again, the pink-splotched bridge of his nose wrinkling. “Ugh, but what about the peeling?”

“Ah, yes. The peeling will not be good.” Sanji tried not to sound too sad about it.

The sunburn already looked vastly better, the redness reduced, transforming into a deep golden color. Like a lightly breaded, perfectly fried chicken cutlet. Crispy. Very appetizing.

Ah, but Sanji was getting distracted again. He cleared his throat.

It seemed less painful, but that did nothing to lessen the appearance of the tan lines, which was what Zoro was most concerned about. For whatever reason. Sanji didn’t really get it—Zoro had never paid that much attention to his appearance before, at least not in the way he was now.

Suddenly, Chopper appeared from around the corner, huffing and puffing, looking highly irritated.

“Zoro!” he screeched, his hooves tapping across the pavement frantically. “You forgot this! I told you to bring it with you! And—what are you doing?! You need to cover up, you can’t risk any more exposure!”

“But it’s hot,” Zoro complained. “And I applied whatever thing you told me to.”

“You need to apply it three times a day!” Chopper shook his hoof angrily, clutching a bottle of the salve he concocted yesterday.

“Ugh…”

Chopper was hearing none of it. He leapt onto Zoro’s shoulders, unearthed a t-shirt—Sanji had no idea from where—and jammed it over Zoro’s head forcefully.

“Good luck getting his giant forehead through that,” Sanji laughed. Under the fabric, Zoro growled, and he was wearing a grumpy expression when his head finally did emerge through the shirt. He didn’t stop Chopper, though, as the reindeer knocked about, frenzied in his attempt to get Zoro clothed again.

“And here!” Chopper shoved the bottle of the salve into Zoro’s hands, but then thought better of it and snatched it away. “Sanji! You make sure he applies this three times a day, okay?”

“Of course,” Sanji said, suppressing a laugh. Zoro wore a pinched expression as Chopper passed the bottle into Sanji’s hands.

“Sanji! This is serious!” Chopper hissed.

Sanji schooled his face, clearing his throat. “Yes. Yes, of course it is. I’ll look after him, don’t worry. Thanks, Chopper. You’re the best.”

“I-Idiot! It’s not like that makes me happy or anything…!” Mollified and finished with his dancing, Chopper finally backed off. “Okay. I’ll see you guys tomorrow. Stay cool!”

Once he was gone, Sanji took care of getting their room. He passed one of the two keys to Zoro, reiterating again and again: “Our room number is 103. It’s on the first floor. You can’t miss it. 103. 103. 103. Okay?”

“Okay, jeez,” Zoro said, snatching the key from Sanji. “Hey, since this is a resort island, they have like…beach related stuff, right? Like, for sale.”

“Uh, yes. I would expect so,” Sanji said. He unlocked their door and set their stuff down, glad to see that it was clean. Not much of a view at garden level, and there were two beds instead of one, but no matter. They could push them together to form one giant bed. That would be nice. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” Zoro mumbled, rubbing his neck, trying not to itch at the red there. Sanji was drawn to the area from the motion; he could see the edges of the sunburn creeping up from the collar of Zoro’s t-shirt, and he ran his tongue along his cheek, trying to keep his thoughts in check. And failing badly.

It was just that whenever they had these sort of day trips, it was now a tacit understanding on the crew that Zoro and Sanji would split off and stay together on their own. And when they did, the first thing they usually did was have sex.

And Sanji was sort of, maybe, looking forward to it. Especially because Zoro was so sweet yesterday, with the ice cream…

So he was shocked to say the least when Zoro turned to him and said, “Okay, catch you later,” and started heading for the door.

“Wait, what? Where are you going?”

Zoro scratched his head. “Out. Gotta take care of some stuff.”

Sanji raised a brow. “What ‘stuff’?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Zoro said evasively, one hand resting on his sword hilts. “I’ll be back later, though.”

Sanji tried not to look too disappointed. “Oh. I thought…” He glanced towards the beds.

Zoro got it. He smirked and leaned forward into Sanji’s space. “Oh, you wanted it that bad?”

“No,” Sanji lied. Zoro grinned and leaned closer, but then circumvented Sanji’s lips to press a kiss to his forehead instead, behind the sweep of his bangs. The spot tingled after Zoro straightened up and away.

“Chopper said I’m not supposed to do any strenuous activity until this shit heals, remember? Alright, I’m gonna head out. See ya.”

And then he was out the door, his key shoved into his pocket, swords clattering absurdly along the too-narrow hallway.

“That’s bullshit!” Sanji called after him, but Zoro just waved a careless hand, letting the hotel room door click shut behind him.

It was bullshit. Since when did Zoro actually listen to Chopper’s medical advice so willingly? And it wasn’t like he had some kind of grievous wound. It was just a fucking sunburn. He’d be totally fine regardless of Chopper’s instructions in a few days' time.

Something was definitely up.

Unfortunately for Sanji, he did have things to take care of on his end, so he couldn’t dedicate his time to snooping out what Zoro was up to. There were markets to scope, inventory that needed restocking, island specialties to sample and recreate in his mind. Plus he promised to let Franky know if he stumbled across any vendors willing to sell them an extraordinary amount of bulk cola, so he had to keep an eye out for that.

He would be questioning Zoro about it when they met back up, though. And Sanji had some pretty good methods for getting Zoro to tell him stuff.

It took him the remainder of the morning and the better part of the afternoon to finish up everything he needed to, and by the time he was done, he felt like he’d sweated through his short sleeved shirt and more. It was fucking blazing out.

He was covered in a gross layer of sweat all over, though the one good thing the island had going for it was that it was a dry heat rather than the typical humidity of the tropics. That didn’t stop the sweat from sticking his hair down to his forehead, though, and he puffed on his cigarette through sheer determination, ignoring the unpleasant added heat it afforded him. Maybe Zoro was onto something, strutting around sans-top…

When the afternoon grew long and the heat still hadn’t let up, Sanji decided he should probably go and find the green lug.

He had always been planning to; no shot was the guy finding his way back to the room on his own, despite Sanji’s attempts to drill the number through his skull. And Sanji was getting hungry, which meant that Zoro probably was too, and maybe it would be nice for them to get cleaned up and have dinner together or something, for a change. Like a date. And Sanji could use the opportunity to interrogate Zoro on what he had been up to…

Plan set, Sanji dropped off the supplies he picked up at the Sunny—no luck on the cola, unfortunately for Franky—and set off.

Like always, it probably wouldn’t take him long to find the Mosshead. As much as Zoro had a penchant for getting lost, so too did Sanji have a penchant for finding him.

#

“You can’t be serious.”

Zoro squinted up at him through his sunglasses, the red tip of his nose crinkling. “Huh? Oh, I guess you found me.”

Sanji looked down at him, fighting the urge to blow smoke directly into Zoro’s face. The only reason he didn’t was because there were other people around, but…well…

Zoro was sunburned. Again.

In the exact inverse spots as his tan lines.

He was laid back on a lounge chair by one of the many resort pools, underneath the sun’s full blast, wearing sunglasses and swim trunks and nothing else. His swords were propped against the drink table at the side, his body was slathered in what Sanji assumed was a mix of Chopper’s salve and the resort-provided sunscreen, except for the crop top area of his chest, which was strangely glistening and slick…

Sanji picked up the bottle that was set on the drink table. Tanning oil.

“Zoro,” he said slowly, turning the bottle over in his hands, “are…are you trying to reverse your tan lines by only tanning in the spot that’s paler than the rest?”

“Good plan, right?” Zoro asked, sitting up and shooting Sanji a grin, toothsome and white. “This way it’ll be even now. Isn’t that better?”

Sanji tried very, very hard to keep his cool, aware that they were in earshot of others. He reached out and plucked the sunglasses off of Zoro’s face. “And I guess you just forgot about these?”

Underneath, there was a band of contrasting, paler skin stretched over his eyes, one open and one shut with the scar, in the shape of the sunglasses.

Zoro stopped short. “Oh…”

Sanji squinted. “Are these Franky’s glasses?”

“He may have lent me a pair…”

Sanji sighed. “Come on, let’s go.”

“But I’m not done yet!”

“Up, you absolute moron!”

Sanji dragged Zoro up by the arm. Just like yesterday, his skin was scorching to the touch, this time covered in a film of lotions and potions that shimmered in the sunlight. Zoro willingly went with him, and now that he was standing, it seemed like he realized what he had done.

“Ow, ow, shit, that stings!”

“Oh, does it? Ugh, Chopper’s gonna kill me. He’s gonna kill both of us!”

The crop top area of Zoro’s torso was now a smooth, even layer of sunburned pink. It wasn’t as bad as the original burned spots from yesterday, which looked like they had reignited after Zoro’s stunt, and it did nothing to detract from the crop top-like appearance.

Plus now he had a sunglasses tan that was decidedly less hot than the crop top tan.

Even though part of Sanji did find it stupidly endearing. Maybe even adorable.

But he kept up the exasperation as he dragged Zoro by the wrist all the way back to their inn, then into their room.

“Get in there,” he said as he shoved Zoro through the threshold, palms flat against his wide, unburned back.

“What’s the big deal?” Zoro grumbled. “I mean, I guess it stings a little, but it would have evened out after a while! You can’t tell me that’s not how it works!”

“That’s not how it works,” Sanji hissed. “You’re just going to have an even more uneven tan now! And your sunburn from yesterday is all flared up again. Look!” He pointed in the full length mirror next to the bathroom.

Zoro was redder than ever before, stripes of it lashed across his body, intermingled with some areas that were tanned golden and crisp. The tank top markings were no less apparent, now different shades of red around both edges.

Sanji tried very, very hard to ignore how the tanning oil had him looking downright indecent, glowing under the lights in their hotel room, especially since it was spread exclusively over his chest and the first half of his abs…

Shit. Zoro’s eyes cut over to him in the mirror. Did he notice?

“I guess I didn’t account for the sunglasses,” Zoro muttered, rubbing fruitlessly at his eye.

Sanji slapped his hand away. “Is that really all you have to say?”

“Hmph.”

He poked Zoro in the back. The very firm, very muscular back. Which was also glistening not with oil or sunburn medication, but with sweat. “Aren’t you in pain?”

“I guess it hurts, but now that I’m used to it, I can deal. Yesterday was the first time I ever felt something like this, that’s all.”

“You’re hopeless.” He pointed to the bathroom. “Get in there. Same deal as yesterday, cold shower. And I am not getting in with you this time—you’ve gotta wash all that oil off.”

Zoro pursed his lips, giving Sanji a knowing look in the mirror. “Are you sure you want me to do that?”

Shit. Busted.

But Sanji remained steadfast. He reached around and pinched Zoro’s nipple, which looked just as pink and raw as the rest of him. “Get in there!”

“Fuck! Alright! Okay! God damn.”

Afterwards, Zoro emerged from the shower with his hair mussed and damp, the hotel towel slung around his waist. Like before, Sanji could see the pale line stretching across his hips, peeking over the edge of the towel. No way to specifically tan that area in public, he guessed. Though part of him didn’t put it all the way past Zoro to try…

No, must stay on task. He pointed at the bed closer to the door. “Sit. Let me redo your sunburn salve. I probably should have done it hours ago.”

Zoro was suspiciously quiet as he sat on the bed, his earrings dripping idly onto his shoulder. Sanji snagged Chopper’s ointment from the bedside table and positioned himself next to Zoro. Technically, Zoro’s back was fine, but he decided to start there anyway. He squeezed a dollop of the salve onto Zoro’s shoulders and started working it in, watching as it spread in a thin, oily layer over the reddened skin.

“Does that hurt?”

Zoro grunted. “I mean, kinda. But it’s fine. Keep going.”

Sanji kept massaging it in, probably with more lingering of a touch than necessary, but…well, who was going to judge him?

He reached the side of Zoro’s neck, which was only lightly red compared to the rest of his body. With firm fingers, he eased the salve up the skin there, feeling the tendons jump. On the bed, he shuffled in closer, leaning in as he worked.

“Why are you so fixated on this anyway?” he decided to ask. “I’ve never seen you care so much about the way you look.”

“I don’t care,” Zoro grumbled. It didn’t sound like the entire truth, somehow.

“You do,” Sanji said, suspicion growing. “Why?”

A redness unrelated to the sunburn crept its way up to Zoro’s face. Sanji only knew because he was watching his neck, including the nape, which was unburned and untanned, until blush started spreading over it.

“Why?” he demanded, inching in closer. “Tell me!”

“It’s nothing,” Zoro dismissed, which meant that it absolutely was something.

Sanji tried a different approach. But only because Zoro was giving more wet cat than usual, especially because he was literally wet, his normally spiky hair stuck flat to his head, his mouth fixed into a small frown, and it sent something affectionate and a little sad through him. He didn’t like to see Zoro down.

He pressed his lips to the center of Zoro’s back, right where his spine began. “Tell me,” he murmured, sweet. “I don’t like seeing you so self-conscious. It’s unbecoming of the future greatest swordsman, don’t you think?”

It worked. Zoro laughed a little, and Sanji continued, looping his arms around Zoro’s shoulders so he could work the salve down his collarbone, across his chest, where the burn was at its worst.

“What is it, Zoro?”

“You kept staring at me,” Zoro finally said, quietly. “So I thought it might be better for you…if I fixed it…”

Sanji stopped rubbing. He sat back.

“Are you serious?”

Zoro looked over his shoulder, his expression obstinate. “Yeah, I am.”

“Oh my God,” Sanji said, slapping a palm to his forehead. It left a sticky mark there, since his hands were coated in the salve. He laughed. “No…no, you idiot—well no, I’m the idiot.”

“Curly, what are you talking about?”

“I like it,” Sanji said in a rush, putting his hands back onto Zoro’s chest, draping himself over Zoro’s back. He could feel the heat radiating off of him through his shirt. “I like it so much. You look so fucking hot like this.”

“Wait, what? Really?”

“Yes,” Sanji emphasized. “And I thought it would seem desperate and weird if I said anything, so I’ve just been looking. Staring, actually.”

Zoro quirked his lip. “Why would that be desperate? We’re together.”

It was Sanji’s turn to redden. “I don’t really know…”

He felt Zoro’s laugh rumble out of him, from his back and underneath his palms. “Sanji,” he said, turning his head.

At the same time, he reached around and grasped Sanji’s chin in his hand and pulled their faces together. And then they were kissing, sweet and romantic at first. But then Zoro swiped his tongue along Sanji’s lower lip, and Sanji opened up for him, letting him in, and then they were making out, hot and messy. Sanji was still draped over Zoro’s shoulders until Zoro maneuvered them so they were facing each other again.

“Here,” Sanji said when they broke for air. Zoro tried kissing a line down his neck, but Sanji shooed him away, tapping him by the shoulders. “Lie back. I’m not done yet.”

“But I thought—”

“I said lie back,” Sanji snapped. He was not going to let Zoro go untreated before they did anything, damn it.

Zoro did lie back, his towel falling open underneath him as he went. Sanji got off the bed and stripped down to his underwear before he swung onto the bed and straddled Zoro’s hips.

“Hmm, I guess I can get with this,” Zoro remarked, a lazy grin spreading across his face.

Sanji shushed him. He squeezed out a liberal dollop of the salve onto Zoro’s chest, which he began rubbing in large, circular motions, working it into the dips and valleys that made up Zoro’s front.

It was hard work. Because the more he did it, the more Zoro started looking more like the indecent picture he had painted earlier, with the tanning oil all over him. Only this time, he was slathered in the lightly scented ointment, which left him glowing and sticky, his every movement and breath highlighted by the way the light was sliding over his body.

“Tell me,” Zoro said, observing Sanji with hooded eyes. Sanji could feel under his palms the steady beat of Zoro’s heart, through the feverish skin. “What exactly did you like about this?”

Sanji licked his lips. He rubbed a line down Zoro’s abs, working the salve into the muscle there, then he did the same across Zoro’s hips, pressing his thumb against the flushed skin. It left a white mark, small and oval, that lingered for a few seconds before disappearing.

“Something about,” Sanji said, leaning down further. He applied more salve to Zoro’s collar area for good measure, then trailed his hands over Zoro’s nipples. “Something about…the sun leaving its mark on you, I think. And the crop top of it all…”

“Mmm. You do like leaving marks on me,” Zoro said. Underneath Sanji’s hips, he could feel Zoro’s cock start to swell with interest. Sanji couldn’t blame him. He was having the same reaction; Zoro looked like he had come to life straight out of a dirty fantasy, oiled up and glowing red. Even with the stupid sunglasses tan, which was all but negligible right now.

“You do too,” Sanji reminded him. “Last week, you left bite marks everywhere. Nami pointed them out to me!” He shuddered. “It was so embarrassing.”

“I don’t recall hearing you complaining in the moment,” Zoro said archly. He brought his hands to Sanji’s knees, which were bracketed around his hips, and started drawing ticklish little circles over the bone. Sanji wiggled, leaning into the touch.

“Take those off,” Zoro said lowly, gesturing with his chin at Sanji’s briefs. The tent in them was obvious by now, straining against the fabric.

“Yeah? You’re not hurting too much? I could blow you again,” Sanji offered, even as he rose to his knees to push his underwear off his hips. He managed to shimmy them down his legs, then kick them over the side of the bed.

“No, it’s fine,” Zoro said, making to sit up. But Sanji caught his wince as he shifted in a way that disturbed the burn across his shoulders and chest, where it was the worst.

He extended a single finger to the center of Zoro’s chest, pushing him back onto the sheets. “Don’t worry. I’ll do the moving, you stay there.”

It helped that Sanji’s hands were already slick with salve, melted and warm and buttery. It was easy as anything to reach behind himself and start working himself open. He kept one hand braced on Zoro’s abs as he got a finger, then two, inside himself, groaning, trying to keep his touch light enough to not irritate Zoro’s skin further.

“Fuck,” Zoro breathed, laid back on the pillows like a lazy cat. He was watching Sanji intently, his cock hard against his belly. The hands at Sanji’s knees pressed harder, fingers digging into the skin.

The sight was intoxicating: Zoro, flushed and sunburned pink and brown and golden, glowing with oil, his cock straining against his belly, almost as flushed as the rest of him. Sanji bit his lip and twisted his fingers, impatient to get on with it.

“Only you,” he said around huffed breath, “could make me want to fuck someone with a sunglasses tan.”

“You like this sunglasses tan,” Zoro smirked. “You told me so.”

“That’s not the part I like,” Sanji said, digging his palm into Zoro’s belly a little bit more firmly. Beneath his fingers, the muscles of Zoro’s stomach jumped, and Zoro made a low noise in his throat, halfway between pleasure and pain.

He had enough, he decided. He was ready. He wanted it. He took his hand off of Zoro’s stomach to wrap it around his cock instead, getting him slick with the residue on his hands. It was as hot as the rest of him, maybe hotter, and Sanji wanted it inside him now.

He rose up to his knees and lined them up. Zoro’s hands were now around his hips, his waist, holding him steady as he sunk down with a small noise of pleasure. The stretch was so good.

Inside him, Zoro felt blazing hot. Sanji’s breath came out of him stuttering, and he clutched his knees tighter around Zoro’s frame, as if to keep him in place, as he was fully seated.

On the sheets, Zoro’s breath was labored, his eyes fixed on Sanji’s face.

“You’re,” Sanji said as he began to roll his hips back and forth, “fucking burning up.”

“In a good way?”

Sanji nodded, inhaling sharply through his nose. “Very good.”

He lifted his hips and sank them back down, executing a sultry rolling motion that he knew Zoro really, really liked. And it worked; Zoro gasped and moved his grip to Sanji’s thighs, digits pressing into the muscle there, spreading him open wide.

It was so fucking much. Not only the sight of Zoro under him as powerful as before, sunburn and tan lines seared into him, but also the feel of him, the heat inside and out, radiating from his core. On the inside of Sanji’s knees, Zoro felt like a fucking furnace, the salve beginning to melt with their raised body temperatures, mixing with the sweat that was starting to coat Sanji’s body and drip on to Zoro’s. It was still so fucking hot. Their room at the inn, though cooler than being under the sun, was not immune to the outside temperature.

By now, Sanji had mastered the art of riding Zoro. His cock pushed up against Sanji’s prostate with every flex and dip as he swirled his hips, his mouth open and panting.

“You’re never doing this again, by the way,” he said, intensely focused on Zoro’s face. Yes, there was the sunglasses tan, but there was also the line of his nose, the curve of his mouth, the set of his jaw. Sanji would never, ever get enough of just Zoro’s face, sunburn or no. “It’s not good for you.”

“So,” Zoro said, “what I’m hearing is this is a once in a lifetime opportunity.”

“I guess you could say that,” Sanji panted, working his hips. He smiled down at Zoro, even as pleasure skittered up and down his spine, gathering in the cradle between his hips, his cock slapping against Zoro’s belly with every roll. “My little sunburned mossball. Let’s leave the marking to me next time, hmm?”

“Mmm. For now, we’d better take advantage,” Zoro said, stroking his hips up a little more now, in time with Sanji. He smoothed his hands up Sanji’s thighs, then up to Sanji’s pelvis, around his belly button, up his abs. But never where Sanji was aching for it, swaying thick and heavy with every stroke. Inside him, Zoro was practically pulsing with heat, fevered in the best way possible. Sanji felt drunk with it.

And then Zoro moved his hands back down, til they pried Sanji’s away from his sides so they could interlace their fingers together. Sanji’s heart fluttered; wasn’t that just so sweet?

But the sweetness didn’t last. Zoro shifted, pulling Sanji’s hands up until they were pressed against his chest again. He extracted his own grip from Sanji’s, got them back around his hips.

“What are you doing?” Sanji asked, trembling. Their position now had him half-draped over Zoro’s upper body, and he strained with the effort to not lay himself down on top of Zoro, even though part of himself desperately wanted to, just to feel more of that heat, more of that slickness, both of them now coated in sweat, Zoro still glistening with the salve.

“Taking advantage,” Zoro said. “Do it again. Do what you did last time, in the shower.”

“Fuck,” Sanji breathed. Experimentally, he pressed his hands to Zoro’s chest, firmly, until white marks appeared in his angry, red skin, in the shape of his handprint. Zoro hissed through his teeth, sucking in, and Sanji eased up. “Doesn’t that hurt?”

“It does,” Zoro said. “Do it again. Please.”

“Oh, fuck…”

And so Sanji did it again. He pressed his hands until their shapes imprinted themselves across Zoro’s chest, right over his solar plexus, cradled around his beating heart. Inside him, Zoro’s cock pulsed with the pleasure of it, his head thrown back against the pillows, the line of his neck strained and mottled pink-red.

“You like it,” Sanji said with wonder, circling his hips faster, frenzied now, his heartbeat loud and insistent in his ears. He pressed his hands to any spare strip of skin he could find, digging in, leaving ephemeral white marks in his wake, imprinted into Zoro’s skin. He was scorching, blazing, the heat of the sun contained within him. Sanji whined with it, feeling drunk and magnetized, like he was the one burned. He leaned into the heat, seeking more, wanting more. His fingers left ten white marks dragging down the entire length of Zoro’s torso. “You like it, Zoro, Zoro…”

“I like it,” Zoro confirmed, his grip on Sanji’s hips punishing now. At a certain point—Sanji had no clue when, his higher brain function feeling numb and useless at the moment—he had stopped moving as much, stopped setting the pace, and Zoro had planted his feet onto the sheets, driving up into Sanji with a ferocity that left him gasping aloud, his spine rattling with each thrust.

“Zoro—fuck—you’re so—” Sanji, through it all, kept his hands dug into Zoro’s skin, singleminded. He was gripping around Zoro’s shoulders now, right at the marks of the tank top straps cut into the muscle, nails digging into the flesh, no longer caring if it was irritating the sunburn. Zoro seemed to relish in it, moaning in the back of his throat when Sanji left red lines, raised and angry, scratching down the path.

No longer able to hold himself upright, Sanji found himself collapsing forward onto Zoro’s body. Zoro held him close, keeping him spread, driving up into him, his palms searing against Sanji’s back, his waist, his ass. Sanji sucked in gulps of air, and even those were hot, everything was hot and sweaty, his skin pressed up against Zoro’s overheated body, the salve between them rubbing slick and sticky all over, his cock trapped between them, the motion of it all generating more heat than Sanji thought possible. His head was spinning.

“Close,” he whined into Zoro’s ear, and then after that he could only say Zoro’s name as the friction of Zoro’s body under him, his cock trapped in that stifling, delicious heat, the sweet, intense press of Zoro within him, finally snapped and had him spilling over the edge. What a mess, he thought dazedly, as he looked down at the white mixing with all the rest of the fluids between their bellies.

Zoro, however, was not done. It seemed he was sick of not moving, because he flipped Sanji around bodily, until their positions were reversed and he could drive in and out of Sanji as wildly as he pleased. Sanji could only go with it, his head still clouded with heat. Zoro’s tan lines—he did what he imagined doing yesterday and simply held on for life.

It didn’t take long. “Sanji,” Zoro groaned, his earrings jangling with the effort of it. “Sanji, fuck, Sanji.”

“Come inside,” Sanji said, too tired to care. Plus, he wanted it. Even more of Zoro’s heat. He shuddered just thinking about it, hot all over. Ready for it. “Come inside me.”

Zoro fell forward with a groan as he ground his hips as flush as they would go against Sanji’s spread thighs, his cock pressed deep inside. Sanji felt his release, and it was just as hot as he imagined, just as hot as he wanted. He carded his hands through Zoro’s hair as Zoro shook through it, groaning into Sanji’s neck brokenly.

And then Zoro was a dead weight on top of him, his face smushed into the crook of his neck, his body just as overheated and messy as before, smeared between them with sweat, come, and sunburn salve.

Sanji laughed a little, sounding breathless. “That was…intense.”

“Mrrgh,” Zoro groaned into Sanji’s neck. Between them, the mixture was starting to feel a little gross now that Sanji’s brain was no longer addled by horniness. Absentmindedly, he drew tiny hearts into the skin on Zoro’s back, even though he wasn’t sunburned there.

“I was going to push the beds together,” he said, “but now it’s good that I didn’t. No way are we sleeping in this.”

“Mmff.”

“Can you get off? You’re fucking burning up. And we both need another shower.”

“Mmmgh.”

Sanji sighed, blinking up at the ceiling. He had a feeling he knew what was happening.

“It hurts real bad, doesn’t it?”

Zoro nodded into his neck.

Sanji pet the back of his head soothingly, letting his fingers linger there, even though Zoro’s head was still all damp and sweaty, pressing a kiss to Zoro’s temple.

“Take as much time as you need, love. And then I’ll go get Chopper.”

#