Chapter Text
Zoro stared at the ceiling and tried not to be irritable.
Sanji was taking forever.
But Zoro supposed he had asked for this so being irritable wasn't fair. Not that that would stop him from complaining. It never had before.
“Do you need help in there, curly?” Zoro called, finally sitting up on the bed and glancing towards the bathroom. There was a clatter and he heard Sanji swear.
“Fuck off! I'm almost done.”
In the months since they had decided to make their relationship work, more often than not, they found small inns and tiny tucked away places to regulate in, but for this Sanji had wanted a fancy place and Zoro had let him have his fun. His own contribution was currently burning a hole in his pocket.
The door to the bathroom clicked open.
“You will not say any bullshit,” Sanji warned as he stepped out into the room.
Zoro rose to his feet and tried to decide what he wanted to say. A lot of things actually.
“Shit, did you do your hair?”
Sanji’s whole thing was doing damage to Zoro's ability to process information at all. The tight blue bodice of his dress hugged his chest, high-necked and hiding more skin than Zoro expected. But the floaty skirt that started at his waist ended mid-thigh and made his legs look a million miles long. Not to mention the heels. The fucking heels.
Sanji tugged on the end of one strand of wavy hair in a familiar nervous gesture. “What do you think took me so long?”
Zoro approached him and ran his fingers through the gauzy overlay on his skirt. It flowed over his hand like water. “Anything you want to avoid while we do this?”
“Don't tear my dress,” Sanji said with a scowl.
Zoro trailed his knuckles up the flat of Sanji's chest and then his throat so he could push his fingers against his bottom lip. “Can I call you a whore?”
Sanji sucked in a breath so quick he almost bit Zoro's hand.
“Guessing that's a yes,” Zoro said with a grin. Then he slipped his damp fingers down to the soft collar wrapped around Sanji's throat.
It had been there for over a month now. Zoro had offered to only put it on when they regulated together even though Chopper said the benefits of aligning and reducing the intensity of their cycles would be slower than if Sanji wore it all the time. Sanji said he didn't care and that putting it on felt safe. So all the time it was. Zoro felt pretty smug about it actually.
“If I could collar you, I would,” Sanji had said one night after they fucked—just fucked, they were regulated and sleepy and it had simply felt easy to for their kissing to get out of hand—in the crow’s nest.
“I think they call that getting married,” Zoro had pointed out.
“I wonder what that means, marimo,” Sanji had replied, annoyed, “that I would bring that up.”
He didn't bring it up again though.
Zoro tugged lightly on the metal loop that hung on the smooth front of the collar. He'd never leashed Sanji, but the option was there. When they had gone to a shop together to pick the collar out, he'd seen the way Sanji had lingered over the leather accessories.
Sanji tipped his head back and his mouth opened slightly. “Zoro,” he gasped, already flushed.
“What if I called you my girl?” Zoro asked, knowing he was pushing his luck but if he hit gold it was beyond worth it.
Sanji’s eyes went wide. He swallowed hard, the roll of his throat pulsing against the leather of his collar. “Zoro,” he said again in weak warning.
“Oh?” he said. That wasn't a no. That was practically a glaring yes. He liked poking at these things, turning over another stone and finding some little thing that made Sanji look like that. All embarrassed and turned on about it.
“On your knees,” Zoro said, stepping back. “I have something for you.”
“It better not be your dick,” Sanji grumbled as he obediently kneeled.
Sanji really was trying his patience in the best way as Zoro was forced to bite down a laugh. “Later. First, I've got something else.”
He slipped his hand into his pocket to withdraw the lipstick he'd purchased earlier that day. He'd toyed with the idea of asking Nami or Robin for help but didn't want to subject himself to endless teasing so he'd ended up uselessly trying to describe Sanji’s complexion to a perplexed shop clerk.
He hoped Sanji liked pale pink.
“Is that lipstick?” Sanji asked, eyeing him with a mix of surprise and obvious curiosity.
“Picked out just for you,” Zoro said. He uncapped the little black stick and tossed the lid onto the bed. “You're going to look gorgeous.”
Sanji’s expression pinched, but he didn't complain.
Zoro tipped his head back with a knuckle pressed into his forehead, a gentle push. “Mouth open.”
Sanji’s lips parted with a soft wet sound and, as if by habit, his eyes fluttered shut. So trusting. Zoro relished in it.
He twisted the lipstick until a bit of color peeped out the top. There was a moment where he imagined—a flash of mischief—drawing something obscene on Sanji's face, but he had better things to do. He wanted Sanji to go under and drawing a dick on his forehead wasn’t going to get him there.
With a soft swipe, he painted the edge of Sanji’s mouth. The way it turned a demure pink at that first touch and the answering intensity of his own arousal surprised him as his cock kicked in his pants. It was both that sense of power that came when he did this with Sanji and also just the fact that Sanji had fucking lipstick on and looked pretty hot.
Zoro passed once more over Sanji's bottom lip, completing the line of color. Sanji's eyes blinked open, half-mast and muzzy already.
“My pretty girl,” Zoro said, just testing the water with the words before he moved to paint Sanji's upper lip with his knuckles pressed on Sanji’s chin to hold him still. “Just a bit longer.”
Sanji made a soft noise in his chest but didn't move, letting Zoro do as he pleased.
The spread of pink made Sanji's mouth look thinner and yet it brought out the flush in his cheeks. It made his golden hair more gold and Zoro wanted to make a mess of him more than ever.
Once he felt he was done, Zoro screwed the lipstick shut and tossed it in the same direction as the cap before sliding his fingers into Sanji's hair. It was lightly curled and the texture was different under his palm.
“Curly,” Zoro said, tapping his fingers on the side of Sanji’s skull to redirect his attention. “Unzip my pants.”
Sanji didn't hesitate to reach for his trousers, fingers practiced and relaxed as they opened the button and slid the zipper down. He kept his mouth open, expectant and beautiful just for Zoro.
“It's like you know what I want, pretty girl,” Zoro said but he slipped his hand from Sanji's hair simply so he could grip his wrist and ease his hands back away from his body. “My turn.”
Sanji looked liable to fight back on that one but waited as Zoro drew out his cock, giving it a few strokes as he made Sanji sit, mouth open, and be patient for once. His spine tingled just looking at Sanji, a heavy pleasure in his skin.
“Stick out your tongue.”
When Sanji did, Zoro tapped the head of his cock against it as he thumbed over his temple in a soothing gesture. Spit started to pool at the edges of Sanji's lips and Zoro pressed inside slowly. Sanji’s mouth would always be overwhelming, so hot around him, perfectly lax until Zoro told him otherwise.
Some of the lipstick smeared across his shaft and he used his thumb to hold Sanji’s mouth open wider as he shallowly thrust into him, so slow that it made his thighs threaten to shake. The desire to fuck Sanji’s throat was a wild thing and Zoro throttled it, instead savoring the steady way Sanji moaned around the langorous slide of his cock over his tongue.
“Such a perfect whore,” Zoro said, letting himself say whatever the fuck he felt like. He wanted to know what Sanji would do. “Like you were made for it.”
Sanji groaned louder, eyes flickering without even a sound of protest. That desperate lost sound that meant he was slipping under.
“Wouldn't you love that? To sit and suck my cock all day,” Zoro said as he sank in as far as he could go, far enough that he bumped the back of Sanji’s throat and made him choke. He released Sanji's mouth and pulled back to give him a moment to breathe but Sanji’s hands flew to his hips.
He pried them off. “Hands down.”
Sanji huffed out a hard breath, but did as he was told. Zoro grasped his hair in one of his hands to hold him still as he began to fuck into his mouth with just the tip of his cock, watching the way it smeared the lipstick. It scratched that secret place at the back of Zoro's mind that flared up from time to time, a tiny portion of his Dominant side that wanted him to possess and mark and tie Sanji up in the dark and keep him forever.
It also made him think about coming on his face.
Except Sanji could be so hot and cold about come marking. Sometimes he was desperate for it, begging for Zoro to come inside him or to press the heated slip of his spend into his mouth after Zoro licked it out of his hole. But sometimes he complained about how messy and sticky it was after he came out of subspace.
Then again, Zoro got to choose how this went. And he would take care of him when it was all said and done so…
Zoro fisted his hand in Sanji's hair and tipped his head back until his cock pulled free, a streak of lipstick dragging over his cheek before Zoro began to stroke his cock.
Sanji whined, loud and low, and Zoro was so turned on by the sound that he came across the spread of his mouth, spilling over his chin and nose and making even more of a mess. Then Sanji's tongue darted out to lick it up and Zoro’s body clenched with another pulse of arousal.
“Zoro,” Sanji said, a bit desperate, and Zoro couldn't stop himself, he dropped to his knees and kissed him hard, ignoring the come and the lipstick as it slicked between their mouths, tacky and bitter.
Sanji grunted but took him so well, melting under each swipe of his tongue as the kiss slowed. Zoro’s own body started to relax, the waves of his orgasm receding as his focus returned and he began to realize that this was his opportunity to see what Sanji liked about this. So Zoro reached under Sanji’s skirt and found him aroused and leaking, so hot under his palm.
“No underwear,” Zoro said against his mouth. He was so fucking delighted.
Zoro smiled into the cut of Sanji's jaw as he continued to press messy, pink kisses over his skin. Zoro liked to fuck Sanji. It was intimate and brought them both pleasure but there was nothing— nothing like jerking Sanji off. It made Zoro feel powerful in a way that nothing else did. Sanji always squirmed and keened and gasped. Zoro loved the way he leaked. The way he could feel his cock pulse and harden and jerk.
In those moments, Sanji's pleasure was Zoro's entirely and there was no distraction, no undercurrent of his own need. Just this. There was something about it that brought out a desire to tease. It was fun .
Sanji clutched at his biceps and let out a reedy gasp.
“What is it?” Zoro asked, slowing the drag of his hand so he could slide the other up Sanji's inner thigh. “Do you miss having something in your cunt?”
Sanji dropped against him like he'd had his strings cut and Zoro tucked his face into his hair. “Are you wet, curly?”
Sanji’s hips jerked into Zoro's hand, cock leaking madly into his fist. Even if he weren't down, his reaction was evidence enough that he liked this too.
“I can feel it here,” Zoro said, flicking his thumb over the head of Sanji's dick. “But what about here?”
And he slid a finger back behind Sanji's balls and pressed lightly against his hole before clicking his tongue. “I guess I'll have to eat your pussy next time if you want something inside you. It’ll be no good if I finger you like this.”
Sanji shuddered, trying to fuck both of Zoro's hands. Zoro took pity on him and slipped his finger away from between his legs so he could chase his pleasure in a way that would mean something.
“Be a good girl—a good wife and come for me,” Zoro said, riding some wild high and wanting to see Sanji fall apart. The possessive heat of Zoro's heart unfurled and burned in his chest. “Make a mess of your pretty skirt.”
Sanji's fingers dug into Zoro's skin and Zoro felt the heated flood of his orgasm over his fist as he continued to work over him until he was twitching.
“Please,” Sanji said finally, a bit weak and overstimulated so Zoro withdrew his hand from under his skirt, wiping it on his own pant leg. He took a moment to pet Sanji’s hair back from his face and to kiss his temple, letting him get his bearings.
Once his breathing evened out and he stopped swaying in place, Zoro stood, put himself together briefly and offered his hands to Sanji so he could get to his feet. “Do you want bed or bath?”
Sanji tottered on his shoes, clearly more of a wobbly knee problem than a heel problem. “Bath. I've got come on my face.”
“Can you walk?” A familiar refrain.
“I'll kill you.” An equally familiar reply.
Zoro pinched his hip in gentle reprimand but herded him towards the bathroom where he sat him on the closed toilet lid before moving to run the bath water. As it filled, Zoro came to kneel in front of Sanji and reached for his shoes, delicate white things that slipped on and off easily enough.
He set them aside and asked, “Do you want to do your dress or do you want some help?”
Sanji stood and turned around. Zoro took that as a sign that he did, in fact, want help. He encouraged him to tip his head forward so that he could start on the buttons that held the guazy fabric together at the neck.
Once it parted, Sanji pulled away and managed the rest of the zipper, fabric falling to the floor, but he still stood, head bent, waiting. That was when Zoro reached for the clasp at the back of his collar, carefully slipping it open so he could remove it from Sanji’s neck. He set it aside on the counter as Sanji wandered, entirely naked, to the tub. Zoro followed after and shut off the water while Sanji got in.
This particular tub was set into the corner of the room so Zoro was forced to crouch beside it after retrieving a washcloth and a little sliver of soap.
He dipped the washcloth in the water and then carefully began to scrub the spunk and lipstick off Sanji’s face. Sanji grunted at the first touch of Zoro’s hand but didn't pull away.
As often was the case, it was Sanji that broke the silence.
“You called me wife.”
It was said tonelessly but Zoro's stomach immediately rocketed into his throat regardless. He had said that, hadn't he?
Zoro swiped the washcloth down Sanji's cheek. “Part of the scene, curly. You said you were okay with it.”
“With girl," Sanji pressed. “Wife's a bit different.”
Zoro didn't really have an argument for that.
“There's probably a rule,” Sanji ventured as Zoro began to soap down the length of his neck, “about not proposing to submissives while they are in subspace.”
“I wasn't proposing,” Zoro said irritably, grabbing one of Sanji's arms so he could soap down his bicep. “Besides, you're the one who brought up marriage.”
“Fucking weeks ago. And you ignored me.”
Zoro growled and tossed the washcloth in Sanji's face which made Sanji laugh as it plopped onto his chest.
“Of course I ignored you. You don't mean half the shit you say,” Zoro said and that seemed to sober Sanji entirely. He reached for Zoro's hand and curled their fingers together before pressing a kiss to the back of his knuckles.
“I do mean it, marimo,” Sanji said. “Or is the collar not proof enough?”
Zoro tucked Sanji’s hand against his cheek. “It’s not that I need proof. That's not—I just think you’ll always be the love cook. The guy who’d sooner lay down his life for a pretty girl than settle down.”
Sanji flicked his forehead. “I will always lay down my life for a girl but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to settle down.”
Zoro grabbed his other wrist and leaned up to snatch a kiss but Sanji shoved him away, grabbing the washcloth to scrub at his mouth too. "Your mouth is disgusting."
Zoro let him do what he needed and once he'd had his fill, he grasped his wrist in his hand.
“Maybe we work up to the married thing. What's the difference between collared and married anyway?”
Sanji raised an eyebrow and let Zoro move to toy with his fingers. “That collar over there says I'm yours. What's to say that you're mine?”
“We say it,” Zoro said firmly.
Sanji looked taken aback for a moment before a smile ticked the corner of his mouth. “Alright, marimo. You're right. We can come back to it.”
Sanji once more picked up the washcloth and the soap, extracting his hand away from Zoro, so he could scrub more efficiently at his chin, apparently dissatisfied with Zoro's work. As he watched Sanji's put upon movements, Zoro dragged the tips of his fingers through the water and he couldn't stop the fond smile that played across his mouth. There was nothing quite so nice as this: sitting with Sanji after a scene, breathing the same air, and being at peace.