Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

starwort (ˈstɑːˌwɜːt) - a welcome to a stranger

~

Shaded by the tree around him, Sanji leaned his elbows over a branch and pointed his camera down.

“Okay, go higher!” He called out below him. The couple sitting side-by-side on the giant swing tucked their feet under the wooden seat and leaned forward to gain momentum, kicking up into the sky to deepen the arc. “Awesome, that looks perfect. Now, when you’re going forward, be sure to look up at me and smile with your eyes closed.”

For the next few moments, Sanji talked to the couple, telling dumb jokes to pull a natural laugh from them as he snapped the shutter. He let them swing on their own while he checked the few photos. 

“Uh, Fullbody, you weren't smiling... ” Again, Sanji internally added.

“I am smiling!”

“Not with your eyes, you’re not.”

“You told us to close our eyes!” Fullbody shouted. He stopped helping his wife on the swing and it soon slowed to a stop.

Sanji sighed. “I know it’s hard for you to convey any emotion other than constipation, but please––for the sake of getting through this fucking photoshoot with at least one decent shot you can show off to mommy and daddy––will you try a little harder?”

“You––you!” Fullbody stuttered, looking between his wife and Sanji as if he couldn’t fathom someone speaking to him in that tone. His face puffed up with offense causing his cheeks to turn just as pink as his silly-colored hair. “You can’t talk to me like that! I’m paying you!”

Sanji propped his arm over the branch and rested his chin in his hand as he viewed the rest of the park around them. “Mmm, actually––you’re not,” he said and pointed to the wife. “Moodie’s name was on the check and I don’t hear her complaining. Do you?”

Mouth silently opening and closing like a fish, Fullbody gaped up at Sanji, completely baffled. Moodie leaned over, whispering a few words Sanji couldn’t hear. Whatever she had told him, Fullbody kept anything else he might have wanted to add to himself.

Moving things along now that the whole face issue was out of the way, Sanji returned to his job. “Moodie, you’ve been doing wonderful. Could you smile just as you were? Yeah, like that,” Sanji said and flicked his gaze to Fullbody. “Look at your wife and do exactly as she–”

“She’s not my wife, yet.”

Eyebrow twitching, Sanji bit his tongue. This type of conversation wasn’t his to intervene on. Anything regarding the camera he held in his hand was entirely his business, but this? He had to let it go––even if Fullbody had had an attitude all morning. The job was only for five hours of his time. Five hours, two locations. He could do it. Mentally counting to ten, Sanji let out a calmed breath.

“Yes, of course. Your fiancée. Please use her as an example.”

There was an eye roll but Moodie’s warm, charismatic smile did the trick––Fullbody’s expression seemed a little more genuine this time, which Sanji could work with. The large swing gradually started up again as they pumped their legs and the branch creaked from the weight, dipping with each pass. Repositioning himself, Sanji pointed his lens down and took more photos. Quickly reviewing them, he frowned.

Still not right, dammit!

The two of them looked happy––well, happy enough ––but it didn’t look real.

A vibrating buzz sounded in Sanji’s pants, startling him. Shoving his hand in his pocket and pulling out his cell, he smiled at the name that flashed across the screen. 

It was Robin. 

He didn’t know why she would be calling this close to her wedding.

“Hey, I gotta take this,” Sanji hollered down to the others. Fullbody waved his hand dismissively and Moodie mouthed ‘No problem.’ to him. Sanji sat back against the trunk of the tree and answered the phone. “Robin, my dearest!”

“Hello, Sanji. Do you have a minute?”

Looking over his shoulder at the two people he’d been dealing with all morning, he said, “For you? Of course. What’s up?”

There was a pause.
“I’m not interrupting, am I?” Sanji hummed thoughtfully, trying to decide on telling her the shit he was dealing with. “Where are you?”

Sanji laughed. “Currently? In a tree.” Robin laughed, too. “I’m at that park I told you about, the one with the giant playground equipment?”

“Oh! With the swing?”

“Yes, that one!” Sanji grinned, then lowered his voice. “I’m with a couple right now, actually.”

Another pause, almost hesitant this time. 

“You don’t sound as excited as you were when you first told me of the park?”

Even over the phone, Robin picked up on his subtle aggravation. Sanji rolled his eyes, pulled out a cigarette to stick between his lips, and dropped his voice even lower to avoid being overheard. “No, no, it’s fine. It’s just the guy is…” he trailed off trying to find the right words. “Being difficult. You know, the usual.” He lit up, the lighter sparking a few times before it produced a flame, and took a deep drag. Below, Fullbody complained about the smell, coughing dramatically, but Sanji ignored him. 

“Ah, I see. I apologize. I know how eager you were to bring a couple there.”

Sanji nodded to himself, exhaling smoke into the light breeze. “It’s alright. Just annoying cause he’s the type of guy I hate working with.”

“I bet the photos will turn out lovely, though, just as they always do,” Robin said. She went on about his skill but was cut off by Sanji suddenly shushing her.

“Wait, hold on. Just a second,” he whispered.

While Sanji spoke with Robin, the couple had started swinging on their own, beginning a private conversation with themselves. Back and forth they went, the two of them swaying their legs to get them to go higher. Sanji swore he stopped breathing as he watched––waiting for the right moment as they passed by…

Moodie threw her head back in laughter, her long, luscious blonde hair fanned out behind her. When the swing was on its way up, the rising sun highlighted her skin making her look beyond ethereal. Next to her, caught up in the words they had shared, Fullbody matched every ounce of happiness Moodie radiated, his eyes open but fixated on his fiancée as if it were only the two of them in the entire park.

Sanji pressed down on the shutter just as the sun passed over them once again. 

“FUCK yeah!” Sanji shouted, fists held high in celebration, camera in one hand, cell in the other. Remembering he had been on the phone, he put it back to his ear as he double-checked the shot he had just taken. “Robin,” he breathed, an apology at the ready. 

“You got it, didn’t you?” She asked, already knowing the answer.

Barely able to hold back a squeal, Sanji said, “Yes, it’s fucking perfect.”

Even from the preview on the small screen, he knew that was the one they’d pick from the entire day. All the back and forth bickering, unnecessary hand-holding, and, of course, the belittling he suffered from Fullbody was worth it for this one photo.

Shaking his head – amazed with himself – Sanji leaned against the trunk, plucking the cigarette from his lips and flicking the long, accumulated ash over the opposite edge of the engaged couple. “I’m sorry, I didn’t let you finish! What was it you called for?” he asked, suddenly hoping nothing too horrible happened. “Everything okay?”

“Yes, everything is going smoothly. I called to ask if you could come out to the salon at seven a.m. rather than eight.”

“Oh! Yeah, I can do that, of course.”

“The manager on duty is opening early for us since she knew I had a busy schedule. Isn’t that thoughtful of her?” Sanji agreed, surprised they’d do anything without cash as a motivator. “One of the girls will be bringing bagels and coffee to keep us fueled for the day, so be sure to not grab anything on the way.”

“Sounds good."

There was a sigh of relief as if Robin half-expected Sanji to say no! It was only an hour––it would hardly make a difference at all. “Thank you so much, Sanji. I really appreciate it.”

“It’s no problem. I’ll see you on Saturday.”

“At seven.”

“At seven,” Sanji confirmed and pressed END. He stubbed his spent cig out on the tree, pocketed the butt, and stuffed his camera back in its bag. Calling down at the others, Sanji said, “Hey, grab your shit,” and maneuvered around a few branches until he was clear to jump from the tree, landing directly behind the couple. “We’re done here.”

~

Seated against the edge of his desk with his feet lazily crossed, Zoro held aloft the expensive blade and gazed along its length with a critical eye. Afternoon light hitting the tempered line just right––distinct pattern glinting flawlessly. It had cost a pretty penny from a collector – plus several weeks of fasting to prove his commitment – but Zoro was not disappointed.

Tilting the sword, the light refracted across the flat of the blade – momentarily catching the grain – as the temper grew muted. Zoro hummed in approval. The Damascus steel really was immaculate––he couldn’t find anything wrong. Not even a scratch.

A nattering in his ear brought him back to the present. Reminded that he was still on call with someone from Marketing about the new app designs. There was an email open on his laptop that he hadn't looked at.

“They all look the same,” Zoro muttered, “Just pick one.”

Lowering the blade and choking up on the hilt, he allowed the weapon to sit comfortably in his hand as he got accustomed to its weight. An exhilarating heft. Curled within his fingers it felt right ––like it belonged in his hand.

There was protesting in his ear.

“Alright, fine,” Zoro grunted, “The third one.”

Extending the sword fully in front of himself, Zoro inspected the back of the blade thoughtfully. A bit on the heavier side, but it was a fair tradeoff for how sharp it was. Once more lowering the sword as the voice tapered off with a choked sputter.

“Great. Glad we figured this out.”

Before the person even had a chance to respond, Zoro wrestled the earpiece off and tossed it aside. Attention now fully undivided on the gorgeous blade. Pushing off from his desk, he gave a few practice swings in the open area of his office. Ready to properly test it when his office door was thrown open by the only person that never knocked.

“Oh, Nami,” Zoro perked up at the arrival of the secretary. “Perfect timing.”

Nami looked less than thrilled.

“Are you kidding me?” Her gaze turned to the wall of swords already adorning the office before sighing, “Another one?!”

Zoro ignored her.

“Check this out.”

Snatching a bright red apple off the corner of his desk, he held it up to the woman with a grin before tossing it into the air. Bringing the blade down in a swift motion. There was nothing – except the sound of Zoro’s sleeve brushing against his side – followed shortly by two succinct thuds of the apple halves hitting the floor.

“Eh?” Zoro incited, “Impressive, right?”

Nami stared balefully.

She then sighed, “I can’t believe I work for you .”

Flicking the blade to remove some of the juices, he ignored the jab while bending down to pick up one of the halves. He inspected the flawless cut to the meat of the fruit before taking a bite. Happily munching on the apple until he noticed Nami’s silent gaze.

Zoro paused.

“Oh.”

With a grunt of understanding, Zoro set aside his half on his desk while skewering the other half of the apple off the floor and hooked it into the air before catching it effortlessly. He turned to Nami and held it out with a smirk.

“My bad; here.”

Utter disdain warped Nami’s face, “I don’t want it!”

“Your loss,” Zoro shrugged.

Shoving the rest of his apple into his mouth, he grabbed a cloth from off his desk and set about diligently cleaning the blade of any excess juices before sheathing the katana. He leaned the blade off to the side. Returning to his chair and throwing his legs up onto his desk, he grabbed another apple and began throwing it against his palm idly.

“Whaddya need?”

“You have a meeting with Galley-La at twelve and then I need you back here for a teleconference with Skypiea by four. And there’s the matter of the photos for the new product release––you can’t keep putting it off.”

“Sure I can,” Zoro scoffed, “Watch me.”

Nami glared.

“I know you hate getting your photo taken, but this isn’t up for discussion.”

“They don’t need me on that stupid ad; it’s about the tech.” Throwing the apple particularly hard against his palm, he muttered, “They should be focusing on that.”

“I’m not arguing with you about this again,” Nami shook her head dismissively, “Get it done by the end of next week.”

“Anything else?”

“Yes,” Nami nodded, shuffling around some papers from the stack on her clipboard, “Marketing needs you to pick a new app design.”

“I was just on the phone with them.”

“ Yes... ” Nami intoned with an exhausted sigh, “But you said to pick the third design.”

“Yeah, and...?”

“And there’s only two.”

Zoro gave a guiltless smile.

“You didn’t even open the email, did you?”

Her question was clearly rhetorical. A lot of the questions and things she said to him usually were. Finally getting the pictures free and holding them out for Zoro to look at––he stared at them for a while before looking up.

“Those are the same picture."

“No.” Nami had gotten very good at her patronizing tone over the years, “The one on the left has a higher saturation so it’ll show up better on people’s phones––especially outside. Also, they rounded out the R so it’s more modern and sleek. The R for the one on the right is a bit smaller, and they made the lines a bit more bold.”

Zoro glanced down again––he didn’t see a difference.

Leaning back in his chair once more, Zoro looked at Nami, “Don’t people hate it when apps change their logo?”

“They get used to it.” Thrusting the pictures at Zoro to match her tone as she gritted, “Now. Pick. One. So I can leave.”

Zoro grimaced, then he pointed at the one on the right, “That one.”

“Good.”

Tucking the photos away, she scribbled down a quick note – he wouldn’t be surprised to find out she was going to have Marketing use the one he didn’t pick instead – and then immediately made to leave. At the door, she stopped and turned back to Zoro.

“Also,” Nami glanced down at her clipboard and then up, “you have that wedding this Saturday.”

“What’d I get them?”

“A Tiffany dinnerware set.”

“I assume it’s expensive?”

“Ridiculously.”

Apple smacking against his palm, Zoro halted his tossing and scrutinized the woman––she was far too predictable. He jerked his chin in her direction.

“What’d you get yourself?”

She flicked her hair dramatically over her shoulder, showing off the sizable diamond earrings that Zoro could see even from across the office. They likely cost more than a new car. Any time the woman had access to the company credit card for Zoro’s personal expenses she always made sure to treat herself to something extravagant.

“They’re tasteful, no?”

“If you say so,” Zoro shrugged.

“Money is wasted on you.” 

Zoro gestured indignantly to his new sword.

Nami rolled her eyes, “Don’t be late for the meeting.”

And with that, she strode out.

TBC...

Chapter Text

barberry (ˈbɑːbərɪ) – a sourness of temper

~

Weaving around a group of tipsy men, Sanji pulled his camera bag out of the way before anyone drunkenly flailed their limbs in his direction. The wedding had gone smoothly, but now that the reception had started and the bar was open, the celebration was getting crazier. Sanji chuckled to himself because it was mostly the groom’s side that had the glass building rattling in its frames.

Seeing a few of the bridesmaids laughing, Sanji quickly trotted over, ducking around the guests and trying his best to remain unseen until he was at a good angle to capture the moment. Such a gorgeous shot it would be, too. The dark blue lighting changed the hue of their shadows, and subtle pinks and purples tinted their faces to give them a feminine, rosy look. Another burst of sparkling laughter from the girls––now was the time. None of them saw him yet so if he could just snap a few candid shots…

A dark shadow covered the viewfinder when Sanji pressed down on the shutter release. Confused, he straightened to review the photo to see what had happened.

“Fuck!”

Whipping his head around to look for the person who had just ruined his shot, Sanji continued cursing under his breath, chewing on his bottom lip with irritation.

Fucking bastard, whoever it was, Sanji thought. 

At the sound of his outburst, the girls turned to him and upon seeing they were having their photo taken, began acting awkward as they tried mimicking the happiness they once had. Feeling almost forced to take the photo now, Sanji politely smiled and snapped a few shots before approaching them. 

“Hello, lovelies. Enjoying ourselves?” 

The girls filled him in on the conversation they were having, telling him about an incident that happened on the limo ride to the venue. Now he could see why they had been giggling so much, unable to hide his own laughter as he listened. Before taking his leave, he asked where the bride had wandered off to. He gave a theatrical bow and left.

Right where they said she would be, Robin was hovering over a table tucked in a corner, the furthest from the roaring music. The guests at the table were an elderly bunch. They looked happy and proud of the bride, who beamed back as she softly spoke to them. Sanji snapped a few photos.

Robin looked at Sanji, giving him a small nod. Once she had finished up, she hugged each person and gave them a smile any man would swoon over. 

“Did you get enough to eat?” Robin asked him when she approached.

Sanji shook his head in disbelief. “Even on your wedding day, you’re taking care of others. I’m fine, Robin. I had a quick bite before the staff cleared the food away.”

Robin seemed happy with that answer as she placed her hand over his shoulder to give it a firm squeeze. Inclining her head down at his camera, she asked, “Everything going alright?”

“Yeah!” Sanji said enthusiastically, bringing his camera up and giving it a wiggle. “The lighting from the sunset was gorgeous. I thought it’d be hard to photograph things with the glass walls, but they came out real nice.” 

“Wonderful. I can’t wait to see them.”

“And I can’t wait to show you. I’m honored you chose me as your photographer. Thanks for trusting me with such an important role,” Sanji admitted. If he were telling the truth, he was actually surprised when she had first asked him. She knew his interests leaned away from people but insisted he be the one for the job; and there was no possible way he could say no to a friend.

“Of course. There is no one else who can capture what you do.”

Sanji tilted his head in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Anyone can take a photo,” Robin said and waved a hand towards the many people holding their cellphones up for a selfie. “But you capture the moment. I’ve seen your landscape work, each one more breathtaking than the last. However, I’ve also seen your portraits.”

Sanji scratched the back of his neck. “You know I don’t–”

“Like working with people, I know. But you’re immensely talented, Sanji. I’ve seen the real, raw emotion your work brings out of people when they view it. Including myself. You breathe life into your photos.”

Raising his eyebrows, he asked, “You think so?”

“I know so,” Robin laughed.

Feeling a little embarrassed by the compliment, Sanji didn’t know what to say. Instead, he opted to change the subject. “It turned out to be a beautiful night, didn’t it?”

A look of warm adoration formed on Robin’s face. “Yes, it sure did.” Her eyes left his as she glanced over his shoulder, scanning until they landed on whatever she was looking for. The smile she wore brightened. Sanji was tempted to turn around to see what it was she had found. When she returned her attention back to Sanji, she said, “I am very lucky.”

That she was. Sanji hugged her and fixed a few stray strands of her hair before sending her on her way. Watching her go, he waited until she was busy with another group of people before taking more photos of her.

Sanji was a little wary of the idea of his work moving people in the way Robin had described. He knew what looked good and what he wanted to see from a certain shot, but never really anything beyond that. 

Curiously, Sanji flipped through the last few photos. A few snapshots of Robin politely smiling at the group of guests she had left him for a moment ago, and beyond that, Robin speaking with the table of elderly.

 Sanji had captured a nice photo of everyone smiling. The lighting was nice, everyone was in focus, and it was candid. Looking closer, he studied each person’s face. He supposed it made him feel nice when seeing their happiness, but that didn’t match what Robin had mentioned.

Sanji flipped through the next few photos in a better attempt to understand what she had meant, coming across the ones with the bridesmaids. Passing over the stiff poses of the girls and then stopping on the one that had been ruined.

“Ugh,” Sanji groaned, pissed off all over again.

On the left of the screen was an in-focus view of two bridesmaids which would have turned out nice if not for the other half being taken up by a black and green blur! He squeezed the sides of his camera in frustration with the person.

A loud roar from the crowd on the dance floor grabbed Sanji’s attention. Pushing his way over as fast as he could, the thumping of the music getting louder as he approached, Sanji all but fell into the clearing and immediately thrust his camera above his head for an aerial shot. If Sanji was counting correctly, all the groomsmen seemed to be there and were in the middle of a group dance. He took a few more aerial shots and then moved to the side to get individual faces.

“Oh my fucking god ,” Sanji snarled.

You’ve gotta be kidding me!

Someone passed in front of him again! He made sure to stand on the open dance floor and not in the crowd so people couldn’t get in his way! The person clearly had no respect for the photographer’s importance and the expectation that they get priority after the wedding party and immediate family. Checking his camera roll, Sanji confirmed the shot had been ruined. The lens had switched the focus from the groomsmen in front of him to a head at the bottom of the frame, giving Sanji the clear, detailed image of spiked, green hair. 

Gritting his teeth, Sanji snapped his head up to look around for the brainless dipshit, but they were nowhere in sight. Always showing up when they were unwanted, but when they needed to be found––nothing. 

Sanji was relieved to have snagged a few more keeper shots, especially when the groom himself showed up. They nearly brought the damn place down with their boisterous dance routines though. 

To help him forget about the few shitty photos by that guy, Sanji found the French doors that led out onto the patio for a smoke. Nicotine always helped. 

The ambient banter of the reception faded as he walked further from the glass building. When he reached the shin-height wall that bordered the patio, Sanji pulled his camera bag off his shoulder and set it down. He rolled his neck in an attempt to rid the ache forming from the day-long job, even if temporarily. Pulling out a smoke and lighter, Sanji lit up and took a deep drag, exhaling into the night air. 

“A drink, sir?” A passing server asked him.

Sanji smiled and shook his head.

“No, thank you. I’m on the job,” he said and pointed down at his bag, cigarette between his fingers. The man nodded his understanding before taking his leave.

“I’ll have one of those,” a deep voice said.

Glancing up to see who spoke, Sanji saw a man with green hair reach for the thin stem of a champagne flute on his way by. Taking another drag, Sanji flicked his gaze over to the glass building, monitoring the party from afar in case something happened he should be there for. 

SHIT!

WAIT!

Sanji whipped his head side to side in search of the green bastard. Not to his surprise, he was gone, just like the other times. Sanji scoffed around his cigarette and crossed his arms in a pout. He would give that man a piece of his mind before the night was over, that was for damn sure.

~

Knocking back a large gulp of the sweet alcohol, Zoro continued meandering along the terrace bordering the extravagant banquet hall. Balmy, spring weather made the evening pleasant. Muted light from the building cast the grounds in a romantic twilight allowing stragglers from the main celebration to wander – lounging on the grass, stargazing – getting away from the stuffy party; just as Zoro was.

Overall, the day had been quite enjoyable. It was refreshing to spend time in a room full of people that didn’t know him and didn’t need something from him. Whether it be papers shoved under his nose to sign, an endless slew of meetings he was being reminded to attend, or – god forbid – some irritating paparazzi shoving a camera in his face. An evening of anonymity was a welcomed break; and he’d never turn down an excuse to drink.

As for the wedding; it was a delightful spectacle.

Gorgeous and extravagant – as one would expect – but just crazy enough that it felt true to the couple it was for. Franky made his entrance with uproarious music, followed by his rowdy groomsmen and the bridesmaids. However, Robin had still stolen the spotlight––entering last in a breathtaking gown and a smile that had immediately caused Franky to start weeping.

A touching ceremony followed – with Franky crying more than once – until they reached the vows. Franky surprised everyone by revealing his slacks to be tear-aways, and proceeded to say his vows in his trademark speedo much to Robin’s delight. And for her own, Robin was shockingly not morbid in hers. It had been a wonderful event to witness; Zoro would admit to cracking a smile more than once.

After that was the reception.

Filled with properly measured levity and sincerity. Touching speeches that made people cry, and others that had people groaning in distress. Games, dancing, and toasts. A bouquet tossed into a group of excited guests that were blindsided by an overly eager woman who caught it and proceeded to chase down a man that immediately ran off in the opposite direction––earning scattered laughter from the other guests.

Now, everyone was mingling – enjoying the party and liquor – properly celebrating.

Taking another sip of his drink and rounding the corner, Zoro’s steps faltered at the sight of the groom and a few men sharing a couple of cigars in celebration. Not wanting to intrude, he made to leave, but was spotted.

“Aye!” Franky threw up an elated arm, beckoning him over. “Zoro! Bro, you made it!”

Shrugging with a modest tilt of his head, Zoro approached as his free hand found his pocket and he nursed his drink a bit more casually––it was almost empty anyhow.

“Good to see ya, Franky.” Stopping among the group, he half-raised his glass, “Congrats.”

Franky laughed in gratitude.

“Oi, oi, oi.” A portly man with a drunken flush on his cheeks interrupted. Hastily waving at Zoro, “‘ho’s ‘e?”

“We went to school together back in the day.” Franky grinned, “Now, I just get to fix his cars.”

Zoro’s gaze flicked to Franky––wordlessly thanking him for the discretion.

“Oh-ho? So ya know our boy, eh?”

Zoro shrugged, “Well enough.”

“Whadya think, huh?” He elbowed Zoro in the side, “Ain’t Robbie way outta this shitstain’s league? Told ‘im ‘e was wastin’ ‘is time; that ‘e’d be spittin’ flowers if ‘e didn’t stop chasin’ her...”

A hiccup interrupted his drunk rambling.

“An… An’ now lookit ‘im!” Gesturing to Franky emphatically, “Fucker actually did it…”

“You’re fucking drunk, bro.” Franky grunted around a chuckle, “Go sit down.”

“But I was wrong!” Jerking his glass into the air, sloshing champagne down his arm and onto the floor, “My best friend’s a married man; ‘e did it!”

Leaning in, Franky lowered his voice and addressed Zoro, “Don’t mind him; he’s less of an animal when there’s about a gallon less champagne in him.”

“Like you’re much better.”

“Aye, I’ll drink to that.”

Knocking his glass roughly against Zoro’s before downing it––he then wrestled a beer from somewhere within his coat, cracked it, and began to drink that as well. Clearly in a good mood. Waving about his cigar as he regaled them about the honeymoon plans he and Robin had come up with.

They chatted amiably for a bit longer until Zoro’s drink had run dry – and he was in desperate need for another – Zoro held up his empty glass and took it as his opportunity to excuse himself, “I’m gonna go get another drink.”

“Ya, ya.” He was waved off, “Come back though, ya bastard.”

Zoro gave a humoring nod.

Gifting Franky with a stiff smile, he left the groomsmen to their celebrations and made his way back towards the large banquet hall through one of the many entrances. At the nearest available surface, he set aside his empty glass and began scanning the event for signs of a waiter with more liquor––preferably something stronger. He wasn’t nearly drunk enough.

Ducking around a large group of people, the annoying cascade of a camera shutter buzzed just over his shoulder––flinching on instinct. Shoulder shrugging up in an attempt to hide his face before remembering he wasn’t in public; it was likely just the wedding photographer snapping candids. Tension drained from his shoulders, but he still strode purposefully in the opposite direction to get away.

~

The reception still had a little over an hour left even though a significant amount of people had filtered their way out. There had been shoutings of an after-party since the venue closed at eleven. As much as Sanji enjoyed capturing Robin and Franky’s wedding, he was glad to know his job ended soon. He had been on his feet since seven that morning running back and forth between the bridal party.

Reaching for the ceiling, Sanji stretched his limbs and bounced on his feet to give himself one last burst of energy. He couldn’t wait to shower and flop in his bed, knowing damn well he’d pass out the moment his head hit the pillow.

While going through the night’s photos, Sanji’s eyebrow twitched with annoyance. Apparently, that green-haired asshole had interrupted more shots than he thought. He counted an additional two from the reception and as he clicked back far enough to reach the wedding earlier in the day, there were two more pictures! How could one person possibly be that fucking oblivious?!

In the middle of his seething, someone bumped shoulders with him as they passed by, causing Sanji to stumble sideways. Sanji clenched his jaw and said, “Watch your fuckin’ step, pal,” and turned around to see what inconsiderate fuck-head wouldn’t at least apologize for what they did and saw the very face he currently wanted to cave in.

“You!”

The man stopped to stare at him. He looked him up and down with a judgmental, arched brow, but said nothing.

“You fucked up my shots, asshat. Seven. Fucking. Times.” Sanji yelled at him, raising his camera in one hand and grabbing the lapel of the man’s suit in the other. He pulled upward but the man’s heavy body didn’t move an inch. “Seven!”

They stared each other down and Sanji refused to back off. Walking through all those shots as if he didn’t have a care in the world––typical behavior of a pretentious prick.

After a few moments, the man scoffed, followed by a scathing chuckle that sent a shiver up Sanji’s spine. Effortlessly, he pried the hand off him and kept Sanji’s wrist in a tight grip. Sanji jerked it back with no luck. Suddenly leaning down until their noses almost touched, he said, “Your job is not my problem.” Then with a shove, he straightened his jacket and turned away dismissively.

Jaw to the floor, Sanji watched him take his leave. Rapidly blinking the shock away, he couldn’t believe someone could be so arrogant! And this guy thought he could just walk away after having the gall to say that to him?!

This mother fucker wanted to die.

Sanji took a step forward to go after him, already yanking his camera off his neck so he could tackle him straight through one of the glass panes of the venue. 

Oh, shit ––the venue.

Stopping himself mid-step, Sanji looked around, realizing he was still on the job. He placed the strap around his neck and straightened his shirt into place before he did anything stupid. Unfortunately, the night wasn’t over, there were still plenty of things he needed to document… and if he were lucky, he wouldn’t run into that guy ever again.

~

Putting some distance between himself and the agitated photographer, Zoro had to stifle an incredulous laugh at the audacity of the younger man––almost impressed. Not only at the tone he had chosen to take, but the fact he’d actually put his hands on him. There was clearly no self-preservation in that blond head of his, and it was painfully apparent he had no idea who Zoro was or what he could have done to him if he was in a less forgiving mood.

After what felt like he’d lapped the banquet hall twice, he finally located the bar – getting himself a tall glass of whiskey – sipping liberally on the beverage while looking for a place to sit.

Most of the tables and chairs had been moved to open up the dance floor for the evening, and the remaining seats were taken up by the more elderly guests. He spotted a free chair near a potted plant. Darting around some people dancing and stepping over a foot that nearly tripped him––casting the barest of glances to its owner.

Zoro skidded to a halt. And then doubled back.

Gaze drawn to a man currently dropped into a low lunge, camera at the ready as he snapped a few shots of the flower girl dancing. Camera bag looped over his shoulder, resting on his lower back. Propped just above pinstripe slacks that were pulled salaciously tight across a perfect rear.

It was hard to not imagine some incredibly indecent things at the sight, and with an ample amount of booze in him he had no qualms with looking his fill.

Slowly tracking back up to the owner, Zoro’s brow jumped when he recognized him as the angry photographer from earlier. It took a second, considering his face looked drastically different when not screaming. Without spittle and fiery words being snarled in his direction, Zoro was able to appreciate how stunning the guy was.

Hanging back to ensure the quick-tempered man wouldn’t notice, Zoro watched curiously as the photographer inched forward and took the shot. At the clicking of the camera, the girl stopped in her tracks and turned towards the noise in shock.

A shy smile tightened her lips and her shoulders climbed until she was able to hide behind the floppy ears of her plush rabbit. Arms squeezing its neck, threatening to pop its button-eyes clean off.

Immediately, the man lowered his camera and extended a placating hand towards the girl. Attempting to assuage her nervousness with a bright smile––one that Zoro had to admit definitely worked on him. It was delightfully warm, with a sincerity that reached his eyes and crinkled them just enough.

Pushing to his feet and making his way over, he remained as much on her level as he could and once he was by her side offered her an upturned hand. He murmured something to her––this time with a hopeful look and obviously feigned bashfulness.

After a moment of thought, she nodded and took his hand.

With an encouraging smile he allowed her to lead. One hand still cradling his camera while dorkily doing an attempt at a two-step. It wasn’t long until she was laughing happily, and the man was able to subtly snap a few shots. As the song came to an end, he stepped back and gave her a quick twirl––the ears of her rabbit flopping about as she spun with delighted giggles.

When he released her hand, she gave her own pirouette – dress flaring out along with the rabbit ears – and the photographer immediately dropped to a knee to get the shot.

A brilliant smile lighting up his face when he did.

Lowering the camera as the song came to an end, the man gave a bow and said something to the girl who curtseyed in response before she skipped off to find her parents. His fond smile never wavering. Once she was out of sight, he pushed himself to his feet and quickly cycled through the photos he’d just taken.

Completely unaware of Zoro’s presence, it allowed him to step closer and get a better look at the man.

Short, buzzed hair at his nape faded up into a longer mess of blond curls that fell attractively into his eyes. A strong jaw complimented his youthfully handsome face, his high cheekbones gave an illusory elegance, and an adorable patch of scruff adorned his chin. Perfect lips were pursed thoughtfully as he focused on the shot, and his curled brows pinched in concentration––devastatingly handsome.

He was tall and had a thin, yet solid frame, subtlety hidden beneath well-fitted clothes. He wore a crisp, white button-up––with a purple, floral bowtie. Freshly ironed slacks clung to a pair of sinfully long legs that ended at an attractively jutted hip and an ample ass that Zoro was still admiring.

It wasn’t long until he was caught.

Glancing up and catching Zoro’s eye, there was a tranquil beat of reprieve before the photographer recognized him. His glare immediately hardened. That fiery temper reignited like the strike of a match.

Zoro couldn’t help it––he smirked.

An impressive sneer twisted those previously gorgeous lips––disgust riddling every fiber of his body. Electricity crackled around him. Hands noticeably tightened around his camera.

Zoro’s smirk curled wider.

Eyes narrowing – a promise of pain evident – he braced his fingers beneath his chin before flicking his hand at Zoro in a violent, vulgar gesture. With that, he swiveled on a polished heel and strutted away––Zoro watching as a surge of want washed over him.

There was just something so fascinating about the man’s instantaneous need to be confrontational. That fire behind his eyes was so unnecessarily explosive. Perhaps it wasn’t the best sign that the first person who caught his attention in a while also looked like they’d gladly volunteer to take a bat to Zoro’s head… but Zoro liked a challenge.

Especially if a challenge came with an ass like that.

Watching the photographer storm off, Zoro tilted his head to the side with an appreciative hum and a hungry gaze. He bit his lip to stifle an indecent groan. Enjoying the retreating view brazenly––loving the sight of those snug slacks tightening with each step.

Once he was out of sight, Zoro made a quick decision and took off in the opposite direction to find Franky––he needed that photographer’s name.

~

Nearing the sixteenth hour of being on his feet, Sanji was more than ready to head home. Now that Robin and Franky had left in the limo taking them to the airport, there wasn’t much else Sanji had to do.

Waiting by the front entrance, Sanji caught a few people to snag their photo before they left, knowing he had missed them earlier in the night. He wanted to make sure he documented all the guests. 

It had been a little stressful, but he did it. Letting out a long sigh, Sanji tugged the strap from his neck and unscrewed the lens on the camera, setting both inside his bag. It felt good to remove the weight and even better when he rubbed the back of his neck. Pushing through the doors to the parking lot, Sanji threw his backpack over his shoulder and already had a cigarette on his lip––lighter on its way.

Setting his bag on a bench, Sanji sat down and pulled out his phone. He shot a quick text to his friend Usopp saying he was ready to be picked up and when he saw his confirmation, relaxed into the bench. He looked up at the night sky, counting the few stars he could see, and blew smoke up at it, obstructing his view.

Two giggling bridesmaids stumbled through the doors next, each holding the other up for support as they drunkenly made their way over to him. 

“Heyyy, you comin’ to the bar with us?” One of the women asked him. The other girl was too busy covering her face, clearly too shy to look Sanji in the eye.

Sanji crossed an ankle over his knee and plucked the cigarette from his mouth to hold it behind the bench, away from the girls. He shook his head, trying to hide how tired he was. He had no idea how these bridesmaids had any fuel left, they were on their feet for just as long as he was. “Afraid not, my dear. I’m headed home for the night.”

For a few moments longer, Sanji was whined at, a poor attempt to persuade him to join them and the rest of the bridal party for more fun. Sanji felt a little relieved when the shy girl looked at her phone and then pointed to the car pulling up. The two of them left and Sanji was alone.

It would still be over half an hour until Usopp arrived, so when Sanji finished up his first cig, he pulled out another. There had barely been any time at all to smoke during the day, only gaining a few breaks here and there to quickly suck one down.

The door to the venue opened up once again. Sanji saw it was that bastard with the green hair from earlier. Deciding not to rile himself up, he ignored him, leaning his head backward to look at the sky. The footsteps continued past him but eventually slowed to a stop. Suddenly feeling as if he were being watched, Sanji peeked an eye open to see him stopped at the edge of the parking lot.

And he was staring right at him!

Sitting up, Sanji immediately bristled, a grimace wrinkling his face. “The fuck you lookin’ at, dipshit? Got a problem?!”

The guy’s expression melted into a smug smirk and Sanji watched as he unashamedly checked him out. Then he held something up in his hand with a flourish—it was much too dark for Sanji to make out what it was. “Not anymore.”

Sanji scoffed and deepened his frown at the strange reply. 

The idiot turned away to look across the parking lot, scanning back and forth over the cars. It was clear he didn’t remember where he parked and Sanji briefly wondered if he would foolishly drive drunk. It was always the good-looking ones who were stupid.

“Oi, you lost or something? Parking lot ain’t that big, buddy.” When the guy spun on his heel to scowl at Sanji, he didn’t snap back in reply, giving off the feeling he truly didn’t know where his car was. “What, need a map to show you the way?”

The dark scowl turned into a face-splitting grin. Without breaking eye contact, he pulled out his cell, unlocking it with his thumb, the screen lighting up as it opened. “Actually, yeah. I do,” he said, and turned his attention to his phone, fiddling with it as he walked into the parking lot.

What the fuck? Sanji thought as he watched the guy walk a straight path to a faraway space to an expensive, shiny white car. Before getting in, the bastard looked over his shoulder. Sanji couldn’t make out his facial features but he did see him shittily wave goodbye.

“God, what a dick,” Sanji complained under his breath. 

The brake lights lit up after he started the car, the engine roaring to life, casting a red glow on the dark pavement. Then, way quicker than necessary, the car backed up and pulled away, tires squealing as he rounded the corner.

“Yup,” Sanji said, rolling his eyes. He stuck his cigarette back onto his lip and looked back up at the stars. “Definitely a dick.”

~

Hand effortlessly palming the wheel as Zoro took the car around the large curved exit out of the parking lot, it afforded him one final glance in his rearview mirror at the fiery photographer—Sanji. Franky hadn’t known him, but he’d easily directed Zoro to Robin who’d given the photographer’s business card instantly. A warm smile accompanied her words as she reassured him that he wouldn’t regret it.

And he doubted he would.

It had been ages since someone had cussed him out so thoroughly. And it was refreshing . Absurd – not something he would normally tolerate – but entertaining nonetheless. Aside from Nami’s nagging – which just wasn’t the same – he actually couldn’t remember the last time someone had gotten in his face like that. It had him grinning foolishly; this plaything was actually going to be fun, and just maybe occupy him for more than a couple of weeks.

After pulling out onto the highway and setting up the auto-nav to take him home, Zoro then brought up Nami on speed dial and listened as a couple of rings echoed through the car speakers before she picked up.

“Yeah,” she grunted, “It’s late; what is it?”

“I found a guy.”

She was silent for a moment before scoffing, “What?”

“A photographer,” Zoro reiterated. “Found one.”

“You did?” Confusion laced her voice, and she went silent for a moment before becoming suspicious, “Someone you’re actually willing to work with?”

“Yeah.” At Nami’s expectant silence, he elaborated, “He’s the photographer from Franky’s wedding––one of those Vinsmokes. Goes by Sora Photography.”

“Vinsmoke…” Nami chewed over the name with a hum, “That local family? That does all the large-scale security?”

“That’s the one.”

“What’s he doing working as a wedding photographer?”

Clearly rhetorical, Zoro didn’t bother to indulge her mumblings as he focused on the road while waiting for her to pull up the photographer’s portfolio. He could hear her fingers tapping away on her phone distantly. Despite his genuine desire to hire the man for the photoshoot, Zoro knew it was only a matter of time before Nami would wisen up to his ulterior motives.

After a few minutes of Nami scrolling and commenting on the work on Sanji’s website, she eventually landed on his biography. Muttering mostly to herself as she acknowledged his several years of experience in the field, as well as a degree – even giving an offhanded, 'He’s cute.’ at his profile picture – before she went inexplicably silent. He could hear the cogs turning in her head. And sure enough, it happened.

Nami gasped––it clicked.

“Oh. My. God. OH MY GOD!” Nami screeched. Her disbelieving shrieks reverberated throughout the car, causing Zoro to reach out to turn down the volume before she blew out his speakers. Growing shriller by the minute before finally growling, “You wanna fuck him! I can’t believe you.”

“Oi!” Zoro scowled, “Calm down, woman.”

“You–” Nami balked––too frustrated for words.

“Hire him.”

“‘Hire him’?!” Nami parrotted. “And deliver him to you?! What do you think I am? A pimp?!”

Zoro’s eyes drifted from the road for a moment to glance at the display screen and grinned, “You wouldn’t be half bad at it.”

Nami was silent for a moment before hissing, “Don’t try to flatter me.”

“So you’ll do it?”

“It’s not like I have a choice .” Nami huffed, “I just hope he’s smart enough to see through your bullshit.”

Zoro chuckled.

Fondly remembering just how ready the guy was to tell him off—Sanji had grabbed him like he’d intended to start a fight right there on the dance floor. Zoro could only hope that when he arrived that the magnitude of the job didn’t make him all doey-eyed. Though he didn’t seem the type.

“I think he’ll be fine.”

“Whatever.” Even over the phone Zoro could tell Nami had rolled her eyes, “It’s not like I care what you do; just as long as we have usable photos, and I get paid.”

Zoro chuckled, “Aren’t you hourly?”

“Do you have any idea what the incentive plans for this company are?”

“...the what ?” Zoro feigned ignorance.

Nami hung up.

TBC...

Chapter Text

burdock (ˈbɜːˌdɒk) – importunity; touch me not

~

The wind howled as it blew between the tall buildings of downtown Abustele, whipping Sanji’s bangs around that stuck out from under his helmet as he biked through the streets. Pedaling as fast as he could without getting hit by a car, he checked his phone to make sure he was still going the right way.

“Shit!”  

He had less than fifteen minutes to get there.

If only he had had more time to get ready! A stupidly cute, pink-haired kid delivered a letter at the ass-crack of dawn, which wouldn’t have been a problem––except they expected him in less than two hours after receiving the damn job offer! Sanji normally would have said fuck that, but when he looked at the next page, it was a check with a whole lot of zeros. He had never gotten his ass out of the house looking his best that fast literally ever.  

The traffic light seemed to last longer than usual, of course, since he was already running late. He chewed on the plastic tip of his cigarillo as he waited even though there was nothing left to smoke. The second the light turned green, he shot across the street and continued weaving in and out of cars until he pulled up on the sidewalk outside his destination.

Sanji jumped off his bike and looked for a place to lock it up. In a hurried panic, he was afraid he would have to wedge it against the nearest street sign, but then saw a strange glass enclosure at the end of the building. He’d have never known it was for bicycles if not for the dozen other bikes safely secured inside.

Finding an empty compartment, Sanji warily opened the door. The stand held the bikes vertically so Sanji maneuvered his inside and propped it into the lock. A hook automatically snapped around the front wheel making him jump. He looked around hoping no one saw that.

Unclasping his helmet, Sanji hung it over the handlebars and, unsure of what he was supposed to do next, slowly closed the door. At the sound of a sharp click, Sanji snatched his hand away from the handle in fear of getting pinched. A beep at the end of the container drew his attention in time to see a slot opening. Peering inside, a small, golden key shone in the early morning sun. Snapping his eyes back at the door that held his bike, he swiped the key with suspicion and pocketed it.

Sanji checked his reflection in the glass walls of the building, resituating his hair and straightening his shirt, before walking in. After entering, he automatically craned his neck upward, unable to look elsewhere but the grand, open space around him. A tall ceiling with the first eight or so floors visible, making the place feel even larger than it already was. Hundreds of people could be seen walking by on each floor, all busy with their own tasks.

The foyer momentarily darkened as a large cloud went by, then once again overflowed the space with natural lighting as it passed. Sanji brought his attention back to the ground floor to head for the information desk. The heels of his shoes resounded as he made his way over.

Behind the long and sleek, modern counter were three receptionists. He approached one who was open and introduced himself to check-in. The receptionist pointed him in the direction of the elevators and as he was about to press his floor, he realized how close it was to the top.

“Holy shit,” Sanji breathed, wondering what in the hell was going on. He checked his phone again and saw he had less than four minutes remaining––he took too much time ogling the lobby like a tourist! The elevator had only hit the twentieth floor and he still had many more to go––hardly halfway up. Impatiently tapping his foot, he hiked his backpack up higher and chewed on his lip, already thinking of another smoke. “C’mon, c’mon. ”

Finally, the doors started opening and Sanji practically pried them the rest of the way open and fell out of the elevator right into the face of a gorgeous redheaded woman. The receptionist at the front desk didn’t give him any more guidance beyond where he was now so he hoped this woman would be able to help him.

She flicked her eyes above him, a smile gracing her painted lips. “Hmm, cutting it a bit close, were we?”

Sanji looked over his shoulder to see what she had been looking at––a fancy digital clock above the floor levels of the elevator. Big, green numbers read exactly ten a.m. He let out a quiet sigh of relief. He made it.

Standing up straight and readjusting his backpack, Sanji nodded and gave her a smile at the realization she was expecting him.

“Hi, I’m Sanji,” he said, offering his hand. She took it and gave a brief, sturdy squeeze. “I received a letter – and uh, a check – for a new contract here?”

Beckoning him to follow her, the woman turned on her heel and strode off, talking as she went. “Yup, that’s correct. Name’s Nami, by the way, I’m the executive secretary, but sometimes I feel like the babysitter. There’s a conference room we can discuss the contract in.”

As they walked down the hall, Nami pointed out a few rooms and their uses, the clacking of her heels against the granite tiles echoing off the walls. She spoke a mile a minute and it took all of Sanji’s concentration to stay focused on her words and not the immaculate architecture of the building.

Once in the spacious meeting room, she let him pass by and closed the door behind him. “Take a seat,” she said. Shrugging off his pack and setting it on the floor, he pulled out a chair by a clipboard and waited. She took the seat next to him, casually leaning back and crossing a long leg over the other. “So, Mr. Vinsmoke–”

“Don’t call me that,” he interjected, his voice firmer than he had intended. Softening, he tried again. “Please. Just Sanji.”

A little taken aback, Nami’s eyebrows were at her hairline. She reached for the clipboard and quickly jotted something down. Sanji wondered if he had just ruined this huge opportunity with his stupid outburst.

“Of course, ‘Sanji’ it is,” Nami said as she finished her writing. “Now, this part shouldn’t take very long. I figured you’d have a few questions you needed answered. The contract is straightforward, not much in the fine print, but anything you wanted to address?”

Sanji leaned down at his side, unzipping the front compartment of his bag. “Yes, actually,” he said matter-of-factly and held out a paper for her. “I think there was a slip of the hand here. That’s four zeros, not three.”

Humoring him, Nami leaned forward to look at the check but made no move to seize it from him. “Mmhm, looks right to me.”

“But that’s ridiculous. The offer said I was needed for only three separate gigs.”

Nami sighed loudly and crossed her arms. “Listen, the amount is correct because I typed it myself. Think of it as a bribe for who you’re going to be dealing with.”

Sanji paused. The letter didn’t mention who the client was, only it was for Santoryu Tech––which was fine but the word ‘bribe’ didn’t sit well with him. “Yeah, that was my next question. Who am I taking photos of exactly? Especially for this price? Surely there is someone more well-known than me? And how did this huge company stumble across me, anyway?”

Holding up a hand to stop him from asking any more questions, Nami said, “Here,” and unclipped a paper from the stack, sliding it over. “This contract asks for you to take photos of Santoryu’s CEO for the next three projects we have coming up.”

Thinking it over, he was sure he knew the name. It was hard not to, it being plastered everywhere, but he couldn’t recall the face. “The CEO?”

“Yeap.”

“And you want me to do the job?”

“That’s right.”

“And the amount on the check isn’t wrong.”

“I don’t make financial mistakes.”

It wasn’t a hard choice. At a thousand percent more than his standard rate for just a couple of shots? Only a fool would pass this up, but also, he had to be missing something. Quickly scanning over the contract, he read over the three job types and saw one was for an interview of a big named magazine.

“Uhm, this one here,” Sanji said, pointing to the paper. “Wouldn’t they come prepared with their own photographer? Why outsource?”

Nami blew a stray strand of hair out of her face with a laugh and said, “The CEO doesn’t particularly tend to play well with others.”

Great, Sanji thought. Already seeming unreasonable. Reading the rest of the contract, he couldn’t find anything that seemed like entrapment. 

“Okay…” Sanji slowly said. He looked to Nami and studied her face, waiting for her to burst into laughter at the joke. “There’s no catch?”

This time the answer wasn’t immediate. She broke eye contact as she uncrossed her legs and sat forward. “I mean, no, not really. Just dealing with a CEO of a Supernova 500 company is a catch enough, right?”

Sanji laughed, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, alright. I guess I don’t have any reason not to.”

“Great!” Nami said excitedly, clicking the end of her pen and handing it over. “Sign at the bottom.” She pointed her long fingernail at the line and when Sanji finished, she snatched the paper from him and abruptly stood. “Perfect! Let’s go get you set up in the studio.”

“W-wait, what?! Now?!” Sanji stuttered, tripping over his bag as he followed her out of the room. “Like right now?”

“Technically it was supposed to be twenty minutes ago, but your new client still hasn’t decided to grace us with his presence,” Nami called out over her shoulder as she power-walked down the hall, disappearing around a corner. 

Sanji trotted after her, asking why they wanted to start so soon, slipping in his Oxfords as he skidded to a halt to avoid crashing into her back.

“You have your equipment, don’t you?” Nami asked, turning around and inclining her head at the backpack gripped in his hand. 

“Well yeah, I don’t leave home without it.”

A well-groomed eyebrow arched upward. “Then what’s the problem?”

Sanji looked into the room. It was a little larger than the conference room they had just left. Studio lights lined the ceiling in various sections and there were about six soft-box lights grouped against a wall waiting to be positioned. In the corner was a small set made up to look like an office that could belong to any white-collared worker.

Shoulders dropping, Sanji felt dejected seeing the staged furniture. “There’s… no problem.”

He pushed past her, flopping his bag onto an open table and began pulling out his camera. The sound of her shoe impatiently tapping against the floor had him glancing up, hoping he hadn’t done something wrong again. She was glaring at her watch and leaning out of the doorway to peer down the hall.

“Well, there they are and still no Zoro,” she grumbled as the sound of voices buzzed from down the hallway. Their idle, faraway chatter filled the silence while they waited on the CEO to arrive. Another five minutes had passed and Nami had had enough. With an exasperated growl, she flung her hands in the air and said, “I’ll be right back.”

~

A loud chugging filled the office as Zoro finished drilling the final screw in place on the new sword rack that joined the dozens of others adorned the wall behind his desk. He stepped back to survey his handiwork. Just moving to set the drill aside when the door was thrown open.

Nami stopped and glanced at the wall, “Why are you never working when I come in here?”

Zoro shrugged.

“Because I pay other people to work for me?”

Closing her eyes for a moment, she composed herself – ignored Zoro’s comment – and strode forward with renewed purpose. Already pulling free some documents to give to Zoro, and nagging away, “Skypiea wants to go ahead with the expansion. And I need your signatures. Also, I’ve given Conis your clothing selection for the interview on Friday with GrandLineMag – they want something casual – and they’re requesting their own photographer.”

“Absolutely not.”

“That’s what I told them,” Nami sighed while holding out the paperwork. Snagging the documents, Zoro took a moment to scan over everything once more before scribbling down his signature while Nami continued, “Just wanted you to know they’re being pushy about it.”

Zoro nodded absently.

After handing everything back to Nami, she took her time to straighten them, and then sighed heavily, “And the photographer is here.”

“Hah?” Zoro’s head shot up, “Why didn’t you start with that?”

“Because I knew you wouldn’t listen to anything else I had to say if I did.”

Zoro couldn’t argue with that.

They exited the office with a purposeful stride, making their way down the hall and to the elevator, Zoro muttered, “Anything I should know?”

“Everything is already being set up in the studio – he’s down there now going over the criteria – but judging from his portfolio I think he’ll do fine. Also, he doesn’t affiliate with his last name,” Nami noted with a quick glance to her clipboard, “I’d wager some bad blood between the family; it’d explain why he’s working.”

“Got it,” Zoro grunted—he had no interest in the photographer’s private matters. “Anything else?”

“Hmm.” As the elevator dinged, Nami feigned thoughtfulness with a finely manicured nail pressed to her lips. She waited until they stepped on and the doors slid shut to drawl, “Try not to be totally intolerable?”

“No promises.”

“I thought not.”

A few moments later, the elevator was chiming again – doors sliding open – only to be met with a crowd of expectant people eagerly peeking in at their arrival. Zoro’s face fell. Keeping his gaze ahead, but muttering vengefully under his breath, “—the hell , Nams?”

“I don’t have time to deal with all your shit.”

Stepping out of the elevator into the waiting crowd of people, Zoro gave a gracious nod to acknowledge them, but kept his pace while giving a curt wave for them to follow, “Walk with me.”

Permission given, they all began babbling at once.

“—Mr. Roronoa, please! You have to sign off on this! I asked last week but—”

“—and then there are these ones here, Mr. Roronoa, you said you’d take a look at them—”

“—you didn’t get back to me about the idea I proposed to you last month, Sir, and—”

Muscling down a sigh, Zoro began addressing each of them in turn while they continued down the hall towards the designated studio. Nami had taken the lead, doing absolutely nothing to hide her vengeful smile. It wasn’t long before they arrived at one of Zoro’s most hated rooms in the entire building.

Nami held open the door for him and he stepped inside. All the lackeys poured in after him – still blabbering away – but Zoro had completely tuned them out in favor of the photographer that was waiting for him.

Facing a large table – all his gear spread out readily – Sanji stood with his camera looped around his neck while fidgeting with a lens. Filtering through settings. Wirelessly connected laptop in front of him displaying the shots he’d already taken of the set while getting everything to his liking.

Dressed similarly as he had been for the wedding – bow-ties and button-ups – it appeared that the photographer had a particular aesthetic he was cultivating. This time trading his white shirt for a charming blue that was littered with pink polka-dots—a pink bowtie complimented the look. And his pair of black slacks gave just as much justice to the younger man’s legs as the other pair had earlier that week.

Zoro could only hope that he had kept the attitude as well.

“Hey, Mr. Seven,” Zoro jeered. “Did you get those photos you needed? ”

It was almost adorable the way the words had the photographer straightening irritably before whipping around ready to fight. Teeth bared. Knees bent. All Zoro could do was smirk as Sanji’s gaze landed on him; watching the brilliant journey of shock, then annoyance, before finally disdainful understanding settled on his face.

This was going to be fun.

~

There, in the middle of the anxious-looking group of people who had entered the room, was a man who stood a head taller than the rest. The professionally fitted, black suit he wore did nothing to hide how muscular he was. His very presence commanded everyone’s attention––including Sanji’s. But at the sight of unmistakable, forest-green hair and three golden earrings after hearing that irritating comment had lit Sanji’s fuse.

It was him.  

That guy from the wedding who drove Sanji up the wall – and then some – with his smug attitude and dismissive words; unfortunately, just as annoyingly handsome, too.

Sanji’s eyes unwillingly dropped to the dark skin peeking out from his unbuttoned, crisp white shirt, unashamedly showing off his bare chest. He thought maybe he had loosened up throughout the night at Robin’s reception, but apparently it was just a daily habit of his. A frown pulled at the corner of Sanji’s lips at the idea of someone being so unprofessional in a corporate setting.

Despite his improper way of presenting himself, an authoritative aura seemed to still pour off of him as if he owned the room. Pompous! Arrogant! Sanji stood up a little straighter knowing he was way better than this guy—smug because at least he was dressed to impress at all times.

Quickly glancing back up to find his sharp eyes still directed at him, Sanji glared back. This made him break into a grin, exposing a set of perfect teeth. Something seemed off, the guy had too much confidence, as if Sanji was missing out on the joke, but it didn’t matter because he wasn’t going to let this guy ruin his first day on such an important job. 

Grimacing, Sanji mocked his upbeat tone, shaking his head with each word. “Hey, cunt! I see you haven’t fixed that staring problem of yours!”

The room immediately fell silent, all eyes now turned onto him as the air was sucked from the room. When Sanji looked to the others, they avoided locking eyes with him, averting their gaze to the floor or somewhere else in the room. There was even a woman clutching over her chest with horror etched into her surprised expression. Every one of them seemed to be frozen in place.
When Sanji finally looked to Nami for some answers, even she looked floored as she held back a laugh. “Uhm, yeah,” she snorted, quickly trying to cover it up with a cough. She gestured toward the only other person who didn’t seem to be stunned out of their minds. “Meet your client.”

That guy was his client? Sanji was a little confused. That meant... “You’re the CEO?”

“You’re the photographer?” he said, feigning shock. 

Sanji’s expression dropped. “Okay, asshole.”

He burst into laughter, and seeing he wasn’t upset, so did the others. In the corner of Sanji’s eye, he saw Nami wink at him. Sanji wished he had the strength to bite his tongue in situations like this because he had already messed up twice and he hadn’t even officially started yet.

While Nami was busy shooing everyone away, the CEO crossed the room over to Sanji, towering over him. Now that he was closer, Sanji noticed his suit wasn’t actually black at all, but a deep shade of emerald green, complimenting his aggravatingly bright pocket square, a lime and black striped pattern. 

Sanji looked up, jutting his chin out defiantly. 

“Still mad about that, huh?” he asked in a deep, cool tone.

Needling the air with every word, Sanji snarled, “You mean fucking up several—”

“—Seven, I remember—”

“—photos for the wedding of a good friend of mine? Yeah, I’m still mad about it.”

For a moment, he didn’t speak, as if he were mulling over what Sanji had just said. But when he opened his mouth and hardly looked like an apology was ready to roll off his tongue, Sanji was quick to cut him off.

He leaned around the massive frame in front of him at Nami. She was trying her damndest to get the last person to leave. “Why am I here?” he barked across the room to her. She glanced over her shoulder with a pained expression, holding up a regretful finger to him and returned her attention to the man she was ushering out the door.

Cutting off his line of sight, the CEO stepped in front of him. “Was Nami not clear enough?”

This guy really didn’t know when to quit. A gut-wrenching feeling of being mocked swelled up inside him. So instead of swallowing his pride and moving on, ignoring what was clearly a baited question, Sanji reminded the other of their first disastrous encounter.

“What I meant was I was two seconds from curb-stomping you in that parking lot and yet you’re hiring me?”

Eyebrows shooting up in a feigned surprise, he chuckled. “Oh, you were, were you?”

“Yeah.” Sanji could feel his restraint slipping as his surroundings became irrelevant. “And I’m thinking of doing it right now, too!”

A challenging smirk as he taunted, “Would love to see you try.”

“Alright, motherfucker,” Sanji said, taking a step back. With one hand, he yanked the strap of his camera from around his neck and set it on the table behind him. Fearlessly, he got in the CEO’s space. “Let’s go.”

“Tempting,” he said with a bored drawl. “But no. I’ve already been through hair and make-up once––not eager for a second round.” He raised his hand and set the tips of his fingers against Sanji’s chest, giving a light push. “Settle down, Seven.”

“You sonuva bitch!” Sanji yelled, swatting his hand away––immediately gripping the lapels of his ugly suit and hauling himself upward to scream in his face, “You think I fuckin’ care?!”

“BOYS!” Nami shouted, practically tripping over herself as she ran to get between them, abandoning the poor lackey at the door. Fiery orange appeared in Sanji’s peripheral, and before Nami had a chance to physically pry them apart, he let go. “I turned my back for two minutes! What in the hell is going on?!”

The CEO’s raptor gaze never left Sanji, who felt pinned in place but refused to break eye contact.

“Nothing, Nams,” he lied horribly, tone artificially innocent. His next words daring to be ratted out. “Right… Sanji?”  

A grating noise sounded as Sanji ground his teeth together. He could feel his eyebrow twitch as he debated on dropping the whole scuffle, especially since he had already upset Nami. She seemed nice and he’d hate to subject her to any more headaches from this brat than necessary. 

“Right,” Sanji finally decided on, lips pursing together as he forced his boiling anger down.

Nami didn’t buy it. She pulled out her cell and checked the time, growling, “Seriously, you guys, knock it off. The company doesn’t have time to find a replacement photographer! I need these done ASAP.” After pocketing the cell, she gestured between them and sternly said, “Start over.”

The CEO was the first to concede, even if he did have a shitty way of going about it. He offered his hand as he properly introduced himself. Reluctantly, Sanji took it up. “Zoro Roronoa.”

Nami clapped. “There ya go! Glad we’re all adults here,” she said as she spun on her heel to shut the door. You could almost hear the eye roll in her sarcastic voice. 

Sanji gave his hand a few good shakes for show until Nami no longer had her eyes on them, then attempted to let go. 

But couldn’t. 

Zoro’s hand stayed firmly wrapped around his. Sanji flicked his eyes upward and was embarrassingly startled at the sight. Those hazel eyes stared down at him, wide and ignited with a challenge, burning into Sanji. His grin showed off too many teeth to be friendly, making Sanji feel more like he was caught at the back of the tiger’s den and was moments away from being preyed upon. 

Over the back of his hand, Zoro sensually ran his thumb across his skin, caressing it. When Sanji saw Nami making her way back over to them to get the session started, he hastily ripped his hand away and wiped off the tingling sensation on the back of his pants.

“Let’s get this shit started, you fuckin’ creep.”

~

Snatching his hand from Zoro’s quickly, the photographer stepped away and Zoro refrained from laughing. He’d expected this hostility. However, before he could do anything more, Nami snagged his arm, dragged him over to the set, and forced him to sit against the edge of the prop desk. She quickly fussed over him – he’d already had his makeup and hair done – but still procured a comb to make sure not a hair was out of place. Even using a roller to catch any wandering lint.

Busying herself with getting Zoro’s suit lapels just right while muttering, “Couldn’t just be nice, huh?”

“Why would I want to do that?”

Pausing in her fidgeting with Zoro’s shirt, she cast a glance back to Sanji who was back at the table making a few last-minute adjustments. Zoro followed her gaze. He looked even better than Zoro remembered him from the wedding.

Perhaps it was because this time he wasn’t at the end of a long workday, or maybe it was the way he’d made all those pesky underlings nearly shit themselves with a few well-chosen curse words. Or even the way he’d just gotten in his face a minute ago. Whatever it was, Zoro was looking forward to working with the guy for the next couple of hours.

Turning back to Nami, he met her critical look and she deadpanned, “What’d you say?”

“Who says I said anything? ”

“‘Cause as much as you bring out the worst in people; nobody just suddenly tries to bite your head off—not even me.”

Zoro smirked—proud.

“Just having a little fun.” He eventually divulged, but scoffed shortly after, “Why do you care?”

“I dunno.” She sighed. “He doesn’t brown-nose like the others––he’s refreshing.”

“Now you see why I wanted you to hire him.”

Nami’s lips twisted.

“Just…” She reached out and plucked a stray hair from his suit. Flicking it aside. Her gaze miraculously softened when she muttered, “don’t mess this up.”

“Relax, you’ll get your photos.”

Nami huffed, “That’s not what I–”

Both halted in their conversation to find Sanji standing at the ready with his camera in hand – looking much calmer than before – and had an expectant look on his face. Ignoring Zoro completely, he looked to Nami and smiled, “Whenever you’re ready.”

She sighed, “He’s as good as he’s gonna get.”

Grabbing the roller and comb from the desk, Nami gifted Zoro with a final warning glare and then made her way to Sanji. Zoro watched lazily as she explained to him the new product advertisement that the photo would be used for and – quite unsubtly – apologized for Zoro’s behavior. With a nod, Sanji turned his attention to Zoro, and Nami moved to watch nearby.

Sanji strode over to Zoro.

“Lift your leg onto the desk a little and turn your torso toward me,” Sanji directed, wasting no time.

Zoro did as ordered.

As Zoro moved, Sanji took a few test shots before fiddling with his camera. Then he was back on Zoro––all business. 

Pointing to a space behind him while looking through his camera, “Stay where you’re at, but look here.” 

Another round of photos were taken – lights fiddled with – and then Sanji seemed pleased with his camera set up. He took a few more shots. Eventually lowering the camera, Sanji stared down at Zoro and ordered, “Button up your shirt.”

This time Zoro protested.

“Why?”

Sputtering and straightening, Sanji scoffed, “Uh, because that’s what the buttons are for? Or how about you do it so you look less like a lazy slob and more like a professional? You know, like someone who actually owns this place?”

All the while Sanji ranted, Zoro couldn’t help but notice the way his gaze kept dropping to Zoro’s exposed chest. Barest trace of a blush on his cheeks. Waving his hand about wildly to accompany his tirade until he eventually ran out of steam and was left huffing down at Zoro.

Arching a brow, Zoro playfully asked, “Does it bother you?”

“Yes!” Sanji yelped, “Clearly!”

“Then definitely not.”

Sanji placed an irritated hand on his hip and narrowed his eyes. “Why'd you hire me if you were just gonna be a dick?”

“Why do you think?”

Sanji’s face soured.

“‘ Why do you think? ’” Sanji mimicked with a snotty tone. He raised his camera with a muttered, “Fuckin’ shitty brat.”

After a few more photos, Sanji once again directed Zoro into a different pose and proceeded to take several more. There wasn’t much talking. A lot of time spent sitting and trying not to yawn while Sanji fiddled with his camera, before coming over to adjust something Zoro was doing wrong, take a few more photos, and repeat.

It was harder to crack this guy than Zoro thought.

Typically a well-placed innuendo or a look usually got him what he wanted, but Sanji was playing extremely hard-to-get. More like stubborn defiance. Which was ridiculous since Zoro had caught him staring multiple times at this point––he wondered what was deterring the photographer.

Perhaps the rocky start, but that was just playful banter.

That being said, he appreciated that the guy was exactly who he’d hoped he’d be. Normally, the process was something Zoro would loathe, but it was remarkably different when he had something gorgeous to stare at… Except for the clearly growing frustration. After another round of photos, Zoro watched as Sanji glared down at his camera.

Clicking through the photos on the screen, Sanji sighed, tightening his lips into a straight line of disappointment. Something was bothering him––and, surprisingly, it wasn’t Zoro. This may not have been something Zoro wanted to do, but he got the impression Sanji actually liked his job.

Zoro wanted to help.

Bringing the camera up once more, Sanji caught sight of Zoro’s hardened look and lowered it. “What?”

“What do you mean, ‘What?’” Zoro scoffed, “You’re the one sighing every two photos. What’s up?”

There was obvious conflict on Sanji’s face, before a resigned sigh deflated his shoulders. Sanji dropped his camera to let it hang freely from his neck and stepped up onto the set, gesturing around as he spoke.

“This place – it just – it fucking sucks.”

Behind him, Nami snorted and they could hear the distinct sound of a hand clapping over her mouth. Zoro raised an eyebrow – intrigued – before crossing his arms with a smile. It was rare he was given such blunt honesty; typically it was all honeyed lies and placating agreeances.

He appreciated it.

“Couldn’t agree more.”

Sanji blinked––clearly not expecting Zoro to agree so readily.

“Yes! Yeah, this is all so—” Sanji waved his hands as he tried to think of the right word. “So fake!”

“It’s ‘cause it is.” Zoro nodded. “All the promotional shit is like that.”

“It doesn’t have to be like that, though.” Sanji’s imploring tone was oddly sincere for their earlier confrontation; it threw Zoro a little. He watched as Sanji moved to his laptop and began cycling through the photos to reinforce how bland they were. He scanned through them and growled. “These look stiff, boring, and forced. You don’t belong here. This isn’t your space.” Stopping to glance back up at Zoro, he asked, “You aren’t comfortable here, are you?”

Zoro’s brows jumped––he’d never had someone so succinctly sum up why he hated this. Or show concern for that matter. He’d hired Sanji out of a desire for some entertainment, he hadn’t expected the guy to actually be good at his job… or care. Especially after everything that had happened.

“That obvious, huh?”

Surveying the rest of the room, Sanji was clearly trying to come up with a solution. He dropped his camera to hang. Scratched under his curly hair until his face lit up and he glanced back at Zoro.

“You got an office?”

“You’re asking if the CEO has an office?” Zoro asked. Sanji glared. “Yeah, ‘course I do.”

“So, why the fuck aren’t we taking photos in there, instead of this oversized playset?!”

Zoro forced down a smug grin.

Leaning around Sanji’s form to peek at Nami, silently goading her as Sanji turned to her as well. He was really enjoying this. Having someone on his side for once about this whole photo thing was refreshing.

“I don’t know what you’re looking at me for!” She said, voice strained. “It may seem like I run this place, but I actually don’t. Do whatever you want; you don’t need my permission!”

Sanji returned to Zoro with a smile.

“Take me to your office.”

Zoro lost his battle with his smirk at that––this was going to be easier than he thought.

“Alright~” He purred.

Pushing to his feet, Zoro wasn’t going to say no to a request like that. He slid his hands into his pockets. Sanji was already darting back to his things to pack them up, but Nami didn’t miss Zoro’s tone. She caught his attention and proceeded to gesture to her eyes, and then to Zoro with vicious intent. To which he replied with a face of warped incredulity––her threats were useless.

Turning back to them, Sanji was adorably bright-eyed. “Let’s go.”

Instantly, Nami and Zoro both dropped their silent glaring battle, Nami reluctantly showing them the way. Sanji fell into step behind her, and Zoro lazily followed after to appreciate the view; the photographer had an inclination for well-fitted slacks.

Exiting the studio, and making for the elevator, Sanji politely piped up, “Nami, if you have more important things to be doing I’m sure this unkempt houseplant can show me the way?”

Zoro deadpanned.

“ HA! ” Nami barked a laugh before Zoro could respond, “No, he really can’t.”

Stopping in front of the elevator, Nami pressed a button to call the lift and then sent a positively vindictive smirk to Zoro. His gaze flicked from Sanji to Nami irritably. Refusing to say a word to incriminate himself, his eyes narrowed just a fraction, daring her to say something slanderous––she could never let go that he regularly got lost in this huge building.

She just smiled innocently.

Sanji looked confused.

But then the doors slid open, and the subject was dropped.

~

Walking down the wider halls, Sanji noted fewer rooms were branching off, most likely bigger than any others in the building. The walls were painted darker, and there were planters outside each office housing mature jade plants and other succulents. Their footsteps were muted on the slate flooring.

After passing a cozy lounge area, Nami reached for the door handle to lead them inside until Zoro cleared his throat. She whipped her head around, flinging her hair over her shoulder to glare at him.

“I think we can handle it from here,” Zoro suggested with a smirk. “Don’t you think?”

As he brushed past, silently dismissing her, Nami frowned up at him and scoffed. Zoro thanked her with a wave over his shoulder before disappearing around the doorframe. Before Sanji could follow, Nami grabbed him by the elbow.

“Don’t let him get to you,” she warned, her voice low.

Sanji laughed, already feeling warmed up to Nami. “He’s not the first asshole I’ve dealt with.”

Slowly closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, Nami nodded in agreement. “Yes, he is a massive asshole. But – and I can’t believe I’m saying this –” she said, truly looking as if it pained her to say her next words. “under that arrogant exterior is a really nice guy.”

Taking her words to heart, Sanji smiled and thanked her for the heads up. Nami took her leave and he stepped into the biggest office he had ever been in––the biggest he had ever seen! The far wall and right side were entirely made of glass, flooding the place with natural light. Sanji nearly buckled with agony at the mere thought of almost never knowing this place existed–– almost finishing the gig in that cookie-cutter studio!

“Whoa,” Sanji heard himself say. He didn’t even care if he was gawking, how could one not?!

Just like the rest of the top floor, there were various potted plants, ranging from yucca and dragon trees on the ground and English ivy hanging from the ceiling. The ivy climbed its way down a bookshelf that lined the wall the door was on. All were well-maintained and tasteful, bringing a comfortable and homey feel to the corporate space. Sanji would be impressed if Zoro took care of them himself but doubted the man knew how to work a squirt bottle, let alone lift a watering can.

Fucking rich people.

To the left, the solid wall was empty of windows and greenery. Instead, there were over a dozen swords mounted to it, all out of their sheaths and on display. Sanji maneuvered around a long, black case to get closer. 

Impressive and shining, rays of sunlight reflected off the blades and around the room. Sanji noted there wasn’t a spec of dust on any of them. They reeked of money, though, each one looking more expensive than the last. Sanji scoffed. Probably worked the cleaning staff to the bone to keep his precious toys from looking bad and dirtying his prosperous name.

“Pff, nice letter openers.”

Coming up behind him, Zoro laughed, sounding genuinely thrown off by the comment. He bent to move the case out of the way, hauling it up onto the desk. For a moment, he scanned over his collection, thumbing over the golden handle a few times before letting go and casually putting his hands deep into the pockets of his slacks. “They ain’t just for looks,” he corrected, turning to face Sanji.

“Mhm.” Sanji waved him off as he turned away and set his things down. “Let’s get started, I’m sure you don’t have all day.” He beckoned for him to come around his desk. “Just sit like you were in the studio, but this time let’s keep your hands in your pockets.” He waited for him to follow his direction and get in place. “Yup, just like that. You look good.” Sanji raised his camera to take a test shot and correct his settings to match the room.

“Oh, so you do think I look good?”

Sanji cringed at his own wording.

“Yes, for the shot.” Honestly, this guy was really testing him. He had worked with shitty people before but none that were so absolutely self-centered and sure of themselves. And definitely not any that made him feel as if he were about to be devoured on the spot. “Now stop being dumb and take this seriously.”

Zoro clicked his tongue, but acquiesced.

Sanji narrowed his eyes, waiting for him to make another smart comment, but he seemed to have gotten it all out of his system. He gave a few more verbal directions and began taking photos. 

Moving the shoot to the CEO’s personal office already made the photo feel more intimate and real. Zoro didn’t seem as stiff, his back slouched just enough to make him look human instead of a display mannequin.

The longer Sanji pointed his camera at Zoro, the harder it was to ignore the battle his dress shirt was losing at trying to keep his huge pecs at bay. The top two buttons were left undone, baring the dark, smooth surface of his chest––except for the edges of scarred skin peeking out from the edge.

“You forgot—” Sanji swallowed, trying again. “You forgot to undo your jacket.”

“Hah?” Zoro looked down. “Oh. Right,” he said, seemingly unaware of basic suit etiquette. 

When the suit fell open, Sanji was now able to see the top button struggling to keep his shirt closed over his chest, the fabric pulled viciously tight, desperate to keep some modesty. Sanji cursed the bastard in his head for being annoying and attractive.

“Stop moving your head,” Sanji mumbled, side-stepping as he snapped another picture, completely frustrated Zoro wouldn’t just button his fucking shirt!

“But I’m bored.”

“Yeah, well, maybe if you stopped looking like someone just asked you to divide, we could be done faster.”

He rolled his eyes, but Sanji ignored the dismissal and continued—focusing on the task at hand. 

The lighting was damn near perfect right now making Zoro’s skin glow. Just needed to fix his positioning, and he would have what he was looking for.

“Turn your body away from the light, but keep your face directed toward me.”

Zoro blinked. “What?”

Lowering his camera, Sanji repeated his instructions, slower as Zoro tried moving along with each step. When he still didn’t get it quite right even with help, Sanji threw up his hands in frustration and stomped over.

Sanji tapped Zoro’s thigh and said, “Move this here,” then grabbed him by the shoulders and guided them until they were correctly in place. Doing so caused his shirt to open even more, exposing both well-defined collarbones and more of that large, mysterious scar. 

Sanji swallowed again, his throat feeling overly dry. Something so tame had no right being that enticing.

“And keep your face exactly here,” Sanji said, blinking out of his trance. He lightly pinched Zoro’s chin, moving it away from the light, but not enough so the right side wasn’t lit. 

Zoro was quiet, letting Sanji do as he pleased.

Everything looked just about right except for a few strands of hair that had been misplaced. He raised a hand and said, “Sorry, one sec,” and fixed the top of his hair by running his fingers through it, feeling the product that was supposed to hold it in place, slicked back. At the touch, Zoro turned to stare up at Sanji. 

This close, Sanji was able to notice something unique about Zoro’s eyes. The left one was painted with three little brown freckles nestled in the green at the bottom, leaving his eyes asymmetrically patterned. It was… neat.

He must have paused for too long because Zoro began to grin. Sanji snapped out of it.

“Dammit, I said don’t move!”

Gripping Zoro’s face again, Sanji moved it in place until it was exactly how it was before. Zoro stilled his movement, but not his tongue.

“Kinda grabby, ain’t ya?”

He wanted to squeeze Zoro’s face in his hand but didn’t want to risk smearing his makeup or reddening his skin. Instead, Sanji leaned down and sneered, “It’s my job ––which isn’t your problem, remember?”

Chuckling, Zoro said, “Yeah, guess you’re right. And when it’s not your job?”

“Oh my god,” Sanji sighed. When this guy had his sights set on someone, he really didn’t know when to quit. He walked away, ignoring Zoro’s obvious innuendo. “Give it up.”

When he turned around to face Zoro in the new position, he knew this was it. The afternoon sunlight highlighted every angle, showing off his strong jaw and sharp cheekbones. Golden earrings shone back at him.

Sanji hadn't realized he didn’t even have his camera up and had only been admiring the way the man looked. 

“Don’t… move,” Sanji whispered, keeping his tone soft to prevent pulling another comment from him. 

The only sound between them was of the camera shutter rapidly going off. Previewing the photos, Sanji’s face fell.  

The shot was fantastic. Zoro looked powerful, influential, and every bit worthy of the office he sat in. He looked dangerous and sharp, regal and masculine, and yet––it still wasn't right.

Something was missing. 

Sanji looked up to view the scene before him, inspecting each element individually to try and understand what was wrong. He impatiently chewed his lip knowing Zoro was probably growing antsy. He had to think quickly.

It had to be Zoro’s expression. The seriousness he was conveying didn't feel like him. Sanji hardly knew the CEO, but one thing he did learn was the stony seriousness he gave in the previous photos was not him, at least not entirely.

Almost everything Sanji quipped at him made Zoro smile, like none of it affected him and he genuinely enjoyed the abrasive attitude. From the moment they met, Zoro had teased Sanji about everything, and although it drove him up the wall, it still told Sanji he had a good sense of humor. There had to be more under that corporate exterior. Sanji needed him to be himself.

Zoro’s body was frozen, but Sanji saw his eyes flick his way, wordlessly asking what in the hell Sanji was doing––and justifyingly so. It had been minutes since the last photo was taken. 

Then an idea struck him; a simple way to get him to loosen up, maybe even laugh. 

Tucking his camera close to his face and peering through the viewfinder to get Zoro readily into focus, Sanji said, “I apologize for the wait. Was just thinking about when we met and how this time your fat head is supposed to be in the shot.” 

That did it. Zoro broke his pose by ducking his head to laugh under his breath––Sanji took the shot. 

Swiftly previewing the photo, Sanji fist pumped into the air. “FUCK yeah!” he shouted, startling Zoro as he snapped his head back up. “Sorry, just… it’s good. It’s probably even perfect.” 

Zoro smiled, Sanji returning it just as brightly.

~

There was that palpable excitement again that Zoro noticed from the wedding––where Sanji forgot himself and his giddiness outshone his pride. Suave persona and feisty attitude took a back seat. It was terribly adorable, but before Zoro had a chance to enjoy it, they were promptly interrupted.

“Hey, you two,” Nami announced – uncharacteristically loud – as she threw open the door. “Figured I’d check in.”

“Oh! Nami!” Sanji twirled around upon her arrival, “Excellent timing!”

Nami caught Zoro’s eye.

Suspicion blatantly evident as her gaze darted about the room looking for anything out of place that might indicate something had happened. She scrutinized his desk for several seconds before moving on to the set of modular lounge chairs in the corner. When satisfied that nothing was amiss, she finally turned back to Zoro and gave him a pointed look.

Zoro just lifted a shoulder dismissively.

There was nothing to hide, but why she felt the need to interrupt them was curious––typically when he had someone in his office she knew better than to just barge in. It was almost like she was concerned for Sanji. Which would be touching if not for her clearly trying to get in his way; Zoro wondered what her angle was.

Making her way over to Sanji, Nami’s attention turned to the camera and she leaned in to see the photos he was showing her. Zoro watched the two idly. Just like at the wedding – when in his element and his guard was down – there was a captivating excitement that was infectious. Pointing at the screen, Sanji was explaining something to Nami about the photograph that he was clearly pleased with. It was enough to make Zoro curious.

Zoro pushed to his feet and made his way over.

Stopping beside the two – ignoring Nami’s quick glare – Zoro turned his attention to the camera screen and the photos Sanji was cycling through. His brow jumped. Despite his aversion to this sort of thing, Zoro had to admit the photos looked good and it was one of the first times he didn’t look totally out of place.

“This one too.”

Pulling up another shot that had more of the decorated wall in the background, and the lighting on Zoro was particularly nice.

“Oh!” Nami agreed with a nod, “That one’s wonderful––and barely any scowl!”

“Right?” Sanji chuckled.

They went through several more photos – Nami sounding far more pleased after a shoot than he’d ever heard before – and Zoro able to admit why—they were good photos. He hadn’t expected it. Hiring Sanji had been on a whim, and yet somehow his brash nature was the one thing missing to get Zoro to relax and actually have a decent photo taken––a happy accident.

A distant ringing cut through the office––Nami glanced to her desk outside quickly then back to Sanji. “I need to take that.” Already walking off, Nami quickly called out to Sanji, “If I don't see you before you leave just send me the top ten on a contact sheet and I’ll do the rest.”

“Your wish is my command!”

A moment later the door shut, and they were alone.

Zoro’s gaze dropped back to Sanji––the photographer standing a hair’s breadth away. He’d turned to look up at Zoro. Those wavy bangs were splayed erratically across his brow, swept just enough to the side to fall attractively over an eye.

They were intimately close.

Close enough that Zoro could actually see the photographer’s eyes for the first time and realize they weren’t just blue, but gorgeously stormy. Flecks of erratic silver mixed with that bright azure. It complimented his turbulent personality and blustery temperament.

Sanji blinked.

That aggressiveness returned.

“What is with you and staring?!”

Zoro arched an expectant brow.

A sneer and a dismissive huff were Sanji’s responses before stomping off to collect his things from Zoro’s desk. Hands still casually in his pockets, Zoro turned and watched Sanji pack up his gear with hurried, yet careful, motions. A franticness about him. Slightest hint of tension resting on his shoulders. It made Zoro curious as to what was putting the photographer so on edge––it wasn’t like he was intimidated by any means.

Gathering up his bag and slinging it over his shoulder – hastily snatching up his folded up tripod – Sanji turned to Zoro with an awkward stare. He glanced at the door, then back. Gesturing absently with the hand still clutching the strap of his bag before babbling.

“Right, well… I have Nami’s email,” He took a step towards the door. Pausing to glance around, Sanji gave a vague sort of wave in farewell, “I’ll send those phot–”

“You can drop the act.”

Sanji skidded to a halt.

He turned to Zoro with an indignant scoff, “Excuse me?”

“You know…” Tilting his head and lazily looking the photographer over, Zoro drawled, “Pretending you don’t know what’s going on here.”

Sanji reared back––his silence and raised brows speaking volumes to his incredulity.

Zoro returned it with an expectant look of his own.

All at once, the silent truce was broken––a look of defiance flashing in Sanji’s eyes before he was moving. He took a step towards Zoro. That fiery confidence was back, sharp eyes narrowing as he returned Zoro’s blatant once over and halting when he met Zoro’s gaze.

“You mean the real reason I’m here?”

It was scathingly rhetorical.

“Why I’m suddenly being hired by this company that could literally afford anyone , and you pick me? ” Sanji scoffed. Taking another step, Sanji stopped right in front of Zoro and jutted his chin out defiantly. “I’m not an idiot.”

Zoro smirked, “I know~”

“Then spit it out,” Sanji snapped with lethal intensity. Almost daring Zoro, “I don’t have all day.”

Those eyes were positively mercurial.

Zoro felt his breath catch––he really did like them.

Deciding blunt was the most effective way to deal with him, he reached out – Sanji’s eyes widening a fraction – and slipped a hand around Sanji’s nape. A gentle caress to the soft hair before hooking with a commanding jerk, forcing the slighter man to tilt his head back and allowing Zoro to slant his lips across his with a licentious hum. Full and soft against his own. Faintest hint of wine bitters from the most recent cigarillo staining them an addictive flavor––Zoro unable to resist slipping his tongue out to taste.

Barest of gasps startled out of him, Sanji leaned into the motion and his mouth opened––readily accepting Zoro’s advance. Taking that as permission as his other hand slid up to cradle his cheek; his grip on Sanji’s jaw biting desperately while hauling him onto his toes to deepen the kiss.

In the same motion, Sanji went rigid under his hands and before he had even finished rocking to the balls of his feet, his knee was brought up hard and connected right between Zoro’s legs. Sanji was released, and he immediately stepped back. A distressed wheeze forced from Zoro as Sanji barked.

“That wasn’t an invitation!” Sanji exhaled furiously, “Fucking rich people and your complexes!”

Zoro dropped to a knee.

Through the haze of nausea, Zoro barely made out Sanji looming over him with a vengeful fury. His cheeks flushed. Panting heavily until he recovered enough to turn and stride from the office, but not before snarling.

“Presumptuous shit-stain!”

He slammed the door hard enough Zoro felt it in his knees.

Another wheeze of pain left him once he was alone. Zoro crumpled forward on the floor, pressing his forehead against the expensive carpet while breathing through the pain. His brain had yet to come back online. That nausea was still coming in waves, but at least when he opened his eyes he no longer saw black at the edge of his vision.

That guy had one hell of a kick.

A creak echoed throughout the massive office as the door was slowly pushed inward, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Nami’s burgundy heels. He craned his head to the side, finding her gazing down at Zoro’s prone position with a smirk––reveling in it.

“Oh, man .” She cackled, “I wish we’d hired him sooner.”

“Get me some ice.”

“You deserve this though…” Still struggling through her laughter, Nami waved him down, “I hope you know.”

“Ice, woman.” Zoro groaned, “ Now .”

“Yeah, yeah. Okay.”

He could distantly hear the retreating click of her heels.

Slumping to the floor and rolling onto his back, Zoro stretched out his legs and let out a relieved sigh as some of the pressure was lifted. He laid there working through the pain for a few minutes. Only opening his eyes again at the thwack of something hitting him in the chest.

Snagging the bag of ice and immediately cradling it against his still throbbing dick, Zoro then attempted to sit up. Pointedly ignoring the snickers from Nami. Making his way to the nearby lounge chairs with as dignified a waddle as he could muster before flopping down and glancing to Nami.

She had a hand clamped poorly across her mouth.

“What?” He grouched.

“This day just keeps on giving.” Nami mused with a shrug. She followed Zoro over to the lounge––smug and vindictive. “Marketing is going to be kissing my ass for those photos, and you got kicked in the dick.”

Zoro just glared.

Nami arched a delicate brow, “Did you learn anything?”

“Avoid his legs.”

“I don’t know why I even bother...” Crossing her arms and rolling her eyes, Nami heaved a sigh. Fingers drumming against her arm. She tutted and asked, “What’d you do anyway?”

“Kissed ‘im.”

Nami sucked on her teeth, “That’ll do it.”

“I read the situation wrong.” Zoro muttered, “It won’t happen again.”

“‘ Won’t happen again’?! ” Nami sputtered, “Can’t you take a hint?”

Zoro didn’t respond.

A long silence hovered throughout the office, until Nami spoke again––there was a weariness to her tone, “I warned you not to fuck it up.”

“You’re getting your photos, ain’t ya?”

“That wasn’t what I meant.” Nami snapped, “I couldn’t give two shits what you do in your spare time, but unlike most of the airheads you entertain––I liked this one.”

Not in the mood for Nami’s cryptic walkarounds, Zoro grunted, “What’re you getting at?”

“Maybe this one could be more than just a two-week distraction.”

“Not interested.”

An aggravated sigh accompanied Zoro’s comment. Nami stood quietly as Zoro continued icing his junk. Finally, she huffed and made her way over, taking a seat on a spare lounge chair. Zoro’s head lolled to the side to watch Nami cross her legs and stare down at Zoro for a long time. Her jeering was gone. In its place was something close to pity, but definitely bordering on exhaustion.

“You know you’re probably gonna die alone.”

“If I agree, will it make you go away faster?”

“I’m just saying, maybe it’d be good for you to have someone around that doesn’t put up with your bullshit.”

“You mean like you?”

“Never talk about the two of us like that ever again . ” Nami made a face. “It makes my vagina very sad.”

“I’ll bet you have a mousetrap hidden up there,” Zoro muttered, and then grimaced. Readjusting the ice on his balls at the mere thought of getting his dick caught in something like that.

“A lady never tells,” Nami drawled, flicking her hair over her shoulder with a smug tilt of her head.

Zoro rolled his eyes.

Lifting the partially melted ice off himself, he gauged the swelling before tossing the bag onto the nearby coffee table. He pushed himself up into a more seated position. No longer in crippling pain, but knowing he’d feel the residual ache for the rest of the day––a poignant reminder of his uncouth behavior.

“You know–”

“No.” Cutting her off with a grunt, Zoro propped his ankle on the opposing knee and leaned back. Throwing his arm across the back of the lounge while glancing to Nami flatly. “But I bet you’re gonna tell me.”

Nami ignored him––she was good at it.

“I saw your face when he called you a cunt.”

Shoulders jumping with a scoff, Zoro’s face twitched with a crooked smile––remembering it vividly, but not understanding Nami’s point. There was nothing wrong with enjoying a bit of banter.

“So?”

“You lit up.” Nami huffed, “Either you have a humiliation kink you’ve never told me about… or you kinda like the guy.”

“I wanna fuck him, Nams.” Zoro snorted, “Not marry him.”

“You're unbelievable.”

“You can leave at any time.”

Face twisting in frustration, Nami held up her hands––as though praying for strength. She took a breath. Then lowered them and dropped the subject with a dismissive shake of her head.

“I’m going to do some damage control so we don’t have to hire another photographer; those were really good photos.” Disdain was palpable in her tone – exhaustion warping her face – as Nami rose to her feet. She took a moment to fix her skirt. Dutifully smoothing out the wrinkles before issuing a warning, “If he comes ba–”

“He will.”

Nami’s face soured. “Your arrogance isn’t nearly as attractive as you think it is.”

“Not to you.”

Nami ignored him.

“If he comes back; leave him alone.” Making for the door, she paused and added, “And apologize. ”

“I’ll consider it.”

The door was slammed on him for the second time that day.

TBC…

Chapter Text

hy′a·cin′thine (-sĭn′thĭn, -thīn′) – an apology; to make peace

~

“They paid you how much?!” Usopp asked. “Wait, wait—what company did you say this was for?”

Sanji paced his living room, walking back and forth in front of his friend who sat crisscrossed on his couch. “The money doesn’t fucking matter! I told you— he stuck his tongue in my mouth!”

“Yeah, yeah—I get that,” Usopp said, dismissing Sanji’s real concern. “But I’m still on the enormous amount of money you got for such a simple job. Seriously, what was the company?”

“Santoryu Tech.”

“WHAT?! You took photos of Zoro Roronoa?!” Usopp shrieked—eyes bulged from his skull, completely flabbergasted. “This… changes everything. Oh my god, oh my god, this is huge!” He scrambled to the floor in a hurry to yank his laptop from his backpack. 

A sharp pain in Sanji’s right temple throbbed, making him wince. He had been trying to tell his friend for the past half hour how a guy thought he had any right to do as he pleased with him just because he gave him a hefty bonus.

“And!” Sanji blurted, interrupting his own thoughts, “He was a complete dickhead! Arrogant and super slimy.”

Ticking away on his keyboard, Usopp said, “Well, yeah, man. He’s like, filthy rich.”

“I already told you, I don’t care about the money—you know I don’t,” Sanji emphasized, glaring at the top of his head. 

Usopp dropped his neck into his shoulders to cower, knowing what Sanji was implying. “I just mean those kinda people do whatever they want,” he tried again, rewording. “They don’t care about consequences.”

Sanji threw his hands up in the air with a growl. He already knew that much, but hearing it from someone else only frustrated him more. The whole time Sanji was at Santoryu, he was annoyingly gawked at like a piece of meat— by the hottest guy he had ever laid eyes on.

Groaning up at the ceiling, Sanji squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. He wouldn’t have been even half as offended if Zoro had just asked him out like a normal person. He didn’t have to bring money into it, the guy was totally fuckable even without the fat check!

“Holy shit,” Usopp breathed, his long nose practically touching the screen as he read on in earnest. 

“What?”

“I’m on his Oharapedia to see how much his net worth has gone up since the last I checked–”

“For the love of Joyboy, Usopp, you are obsessed!”

“–And it skyrocketed! He has so much money,” Usopp breathed, staring blankly at his screen. “He has so much, he’s like— he’s like God!”

Sanji clicked his tongue, unimpressed. “Well, God can suck my cock for all I care.”

“No, man, you don’t understand. This guy is so rich,” Usopp started and buried his fingers under his coarse curls to scratch at his scalp as if it helped him process his thoughts. Sitting back against the foot of the couch, he pulled his twist-out into a high, loose bun before finally saying, “He’s like, Buy-A-Country-And-Turn-It-Into-His-Own-Personal-Backyard type of rich.”

Hearing that, he knew he fucked up. That damn knee-to-the-balls was too far and he wouldn’t be surprised if he got a call telling him to never come back. Sanji should be intimidated by that kind of status, and definitely should feel regretful for what he did to Zoro, but he wasn’t. 

“He’s still an ass, though. I demand respect for myself and some jerkwad millionaire–”

“Billionaire,” Usopp corrected, finger pointed in the air.

“Ugh. Some jerkwad billionaire isn’t going to treat me like his personal hooker.”

“Right, especially when he could have any hooker,” Usopp added. Sanji stopped his pacing to glare at him. “Not that you wouldn’t make for a great hooker!” Sanji’s face twisted into something more menacing, ready to bite his friend’s head off. “NO! No , I mean he could, like, buy anyone’s time with the money he has—with RyuMaps money alone, even!”

A thought occurred to Sanji just then. “RyuMaps?”

“Yeah,” Usopp said, inspecting him. “Wait, you did know Santoryu is the parent company of RyuMaps, right?” He waited for a beat for Sanji to confirm – and when he made no effort to defend himself – he wilted with exhaustion. “Bro, it has the same name in it,” he whined, leaning his head back onto the couch cushion and kicking his heels on the floor. “Isn’t your camera RyuTech?!”

“No, it’s SMILE.” 

“What— still!? I told you it’s a knock-off brand!” 

Sanji shook his head. “I don’t care. I've had it for years and it works just fine.”

“But it could be better —the best, in fact! You should really get a new one, especially with all that money you just got! You could totally afford like, a hundred of them, or even–”

Sanji stopped listening, even as Usopp babbled on and on about all the things he could do with the money that was hand-delivered to him. Sanji plopped onto the couch and covered his face with his hands – resting his elbows over his knees – and tuned Usopp out entirely.

Peeking between his fingers, Sanji stared down at the envelope on the coffee table in front of him—exactly where it had landed two days ago after his first gig with Santoryu. It menacingly stared back. 

There was no way Sanji would cash that thing—not after knowing why he received it. To think it all started at Robin’s wedding – Zoro’s suggestive stares hadn’t gone unnoticed – and he liked what he saw so much he paid to get Sanji in his grasp. By accepting the job, Zoro must have assumed Sanji knew what it meant.

Reminded of the wedding, Sanji groaned and continued to cover his face in embarrassment. “Ugh, I am so stupid!”

Turning his head, Usopp sensed something was off. “Why? What is it?”

With a sigh, Sanji flopped backward with arms splayed as he cringed, reliving that shameful moment over and over in his head. “I asked him if he needed a map to find his own car! Which explains why he was so god damned smug after what I thought was an insult!”

Usopp shot forward in laughter, howling at Sanji’s pain. “You did not!”

“I did.”

“Wowww, Sanji,” Usopp said, trying to catch his breath. “He must think you’re a complete idiot. Yeah, he reinvented the mapping system as we know it! He’s a real genius, you know—a prodigy, even!”

“Maybe you’d be happier if he had kissed you.”

“What—No!” Usopp sputtered, whipping around to face him and waving his hands about. Sanji smirked at his pink-tinted cheeks but let him off the hook. He leaned an elbow on the couch to continue. “I’m being for real, man. Zoro Roronoa finished making it when he was only twenty-one years old! He worked hard for years all by himself so that backpacking thing never happens again—to anyone!”

“Backpacking?” Sanji asked, eyebrow arched.

“Oh my god, please tell me you at least know about that story?!” Usopp waited for him to laugh it off but Sanji really had no idea. 

He knew next to nothing about Zoro except he was rich, an asshole, and… kinda super totally hot. Sanji mentally kicked himself for letting that thought creep into his mind.

Usopp, thankfully, brought him back. “Have you been living under a rock for the past decade?!”

Deadpan, Sanji said, “I go outside in my free time.”

“Fair point,” Usopp said with a quick snap of his finger. “But! I can at least tell you about it so you don’t make an ass of yourself later.” Both arms spread wide as he started setting the scene. “It all started seventeen years ago… deep in the wilderness…”

“Nope. Stop right there. I don’t give a shit.”

“Sanji! You have to hear about this one bit of Zoro Roronoa knowledge. It’s how Santoryu came about—its origin story!”

“Still don’t care,” Sanji said, shaking his head. “You’re such a fanboy.”

“Hey! All Ryu technology is cutting edge, man. There isn’t anything better out there! Which is why I’ve been telling you to get a RyuCamera for a year now.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Sanji waved him away and pushed off from the couch. Learning about Zoro through an Oharapedia article seemed weird – almost invasive – and he told Usopp as much, but that didn’t stop him from reading on.

“Whaaat, I didn’t know he could speak eight languages now! Last I knew it was seven!” Usopp trailed off, mumbling about needing to keep up on the masters of technology.

Complaining to his friend about one of the people he admired most seemed sort of a silly idea now. Of course he wouldn’t jump at the mention of the kiss, instead focusing on the money Sanji was given and meeting Usopp’s hero.  

Sanji clicked his tongue at the memory of the bastard using both hands to cup his face and pull him up to kiss him, slipping his tongue inside his mouth for a quick taste. He could still feel Zoro’s body heat against him...

“Ugh, I cannot believe that guy!” Sanji blurted, shaking his head to erase the moment. “The audacity!”

“Who? Zoro Roronoa?”

“Yes! Who else?!” Wrapping his arms around himself, Sanji continued. “Just assuming I liked men!”

Confused, Usopp raised a hand to scratch at the base of his bun. “Uhm, but you do like men.”

“That’s not the point, Usopp! He can’t have known that,” Sanji snapped, slamming a hand on his jutted hip. “He kissed me like he knew anything about me!”

“I mean…” Usopp started slowly, treading carefully. “It’s not really hard to guess, man.” Sanji impatiently tapped his foot and asked what the hell that was supposed to mean. He used both arms to gesture to Sanji’s outfit. “C’mon… bowties?”

“Bowties are not an indicator! They’re fashionable!”

At that, Usopp cocked his head a little, looking to the side as he pursed his lips in doubt. “Ehhh, I wouldn’t go that far.” Sanji was on his way to lash out, but a knock at the door cut him off.

Stomping over and wrenching the door open, Sanji was surprised to see the same pink-haired kid who delivered the letter a few days ago from Santoryu.

“Hi?” Sanji skeptically greeted. The kid was dressed as annoyingly adorable as he was last time, wearing a white button-up, khaki pants, and white sneakers—but instead of an envelope in his hand, he had a large bouquet of pale, purple flowers.

“Hey there!” the kid chirped back at him. Sanji cringed backward at such a bright tone so early in the morning—he already had a headache. The kid maneuvered the flowers in his grasp so he could see around them better. The bouquet was shoved into Sanji’s arms before he could reply. “Miss Nami sent me! She hopes you’ll please consider seeing the contract out and…” he dipped his hand deep into his pocket, pulling out a crumpled note. He slipped the glasses from above his head to rest on his nose as he squinted at the words. “Uhm, she also says ‘nice kick,’ if that means anything to you?”

Chuckling, Sanji nodded. “Yeah, it does. Thank you… uh…?”

“Koby! Name’s Koby.”

“Well, thanks Koby, for coming all the way out here again,” Sanji said, leaning out of the doorway and looking down the hall of his apartment complex. “Got more deliveries to make?”

“Nope! Just had to make sure these got to you and then it’s back to the desk!”

The natural perfume of the flowers tickled Sanji’s nose as he breathed them in. They smelled wonderful. Nami had good taste. “Thank you again and thank Miss Nami for me as well, will you?”

“Yup, sure will! See ya!” Koby saluted and skipped away, Sanji watched him until he disappeared into the stairwell.

Closing the door, Sanji went into his kitchen to look for a jar big enough to hold such a monstrous bouquet. He clutched the flowers tight to himself, unwilling to set them down as he searched. Usopp sauntered in after him.

“Who was that?” he asked. Glass jug full of water, Sanji stepped aside to show off the flowers as he slid them into the container and fluffed them about until they sat prettily. “Ooooh, hyacinths! Someone messed up, huh?”

“Yeah, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,” Sanji mumbled, wondering if Usopp had been listening at all. 

Staring at the flowers, he thought about Koby’s message from Nami. Of course he’d finish the contract, he was a professional, after all. He was surprised to see he was even wanted back after that disaster of an incident. 

If Zoro thought some apology flowers, however beautiful they may be, would make him brush his shitty mistake under the rug, well, Sanji wouldn't forgive so easily.

~

Lounging in his office – feet propped up on the desk – Zoro casually ran the oil-soaked rag down the length of his new sword. It had been well cared for by the previous owner, but was still in need of a polish; a little bit of love so it would fit with the other blades adorning the wall. Finishing a long pull across the blade, Zoro had just lowered it to inspect when the door was opened and Nami poked her head in.

He arched a brow expectantly.

“He’s here," she clarified.

A smug smirk flashed across Zoro’s face—Nami’s soured.

Biting back a chuckle, Zoro was enjoying Nami’s irritation far more than the satisfaction of being right. He knew it was entirely due to her that Sanji had returned. Part of him wondered what kind of damage control she had done to get Sanji to come back—perhaps another check. Money was a fairly easy motivator.

Or maybe the guy was a glutton for punishment; he certainly seemed the type…

“Be nice!”

Hissing the order at Zoro with a harsh whisper, Nami’s eyes narrowed as Zoro waved her down with a placating hand. Despite not looking convinced, Nami turned brightly and held the door wide.

“Sanji! He’s all yours.”

A moment later, Sanji was stepping through the door with his bag slung over his shoulder and turning a sharp look onto Zoro. He was dressed more casually today. A pale green button-up to compliment the delightful spring weather, with a two-tone purple polka-dot bowtie giving him a boyish charm.

“Take your time getting set up.” Clearly trying to divert Sanji’s attention, Nami gently touched his arm and waited until he turned a bright smile onto her. She reassured, “You have a few minutes before the interviewer should be here.”

“Thank you, Nami.”

Giving a sweet nod, Nami moved to leave, but paused with a hand on the door—sending a glare to Zoro. Motioning to Sanji behind his back and then aggressively to Zoro, before mouthing, 'Apologize!'

Zoro rolled his eyes, but nodded.

When it came to Sanji, he could rationalize a warranted apology for his behavior—he had been a bit presumptuous. To his credit, that was typically the way things went though; there was never an instance where he didn’t get what he wanted. Quite often he was the one avoiding unwanted attention from clingy cohorts. So this was a fairly new situation for him.

 Despite Sanji’s panicked, violent response to Zoro’s advances, it didn’t change the fact that he could see the interest in the photographer’s stare with every covert look. There was something there, which meant Zoro still had a shot, and an apology – however irritating – wouldn’t hurt his chances.

Reluctantly nodding, Zoro watched as Nami shut the door—leaving them alone. Sanji turned to Zoro, his bright smile falling away instantaneously. Replaced by a harsh sneer in Zoro’s direction.

“Hey, you moss-headed fuck.” Sanji drawled, “How’s the dick?”

“Sore.” Zoro refrained from grinning; they were starting things off heated today—he liked that. If Sanji wanted to play, then he’d play. There was no way he’d back down from a petty challenge. “Wanna kiss it better?”

Face souring, Sanji made sure to keep a disgusted eye on Zoro as he strode over to the lounge and set his bag down on the table. Free of his equipment, Sanji crossed his arms. Hip jutting out to accompany a threatening sneer, “Do you want another knee in the balls?”

“If you’re offering.” Zoro deadpanned. “ Ball-man .”

Shaking his head in disbelief, Sanji scoffed, “Should’ve kneed you harder to get through that thick skull of yours.”

Zoro shrugged.

“You got your paycheck; you didn’t have to come back.”

“It’s called professionalism ,” Sanji sneered, “Look it up.”

“I hire people to do that for me.”

Sanji’s eyebrows jumped, but not out of interest—it was clearly mockery. He nodded, slow and careful like he didn’t doubt Zoro’s claim.

“Do you also hire people just to irritate them?”

“Only the pretty ones.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“So I’m told.”

With obvious distaste, Sanji rolled his eyes, and – surprisingly – turned to his bag and began to unpack. He ignored Zoro pointedly. Pulling out his camera and lens – putting them together – before removing even more gadgets from his pack; various other attachments and clips Zoro had no clue of their purpose.

Allowing his gaze to linger wistfully on the photographer – desire causing his hand to tighten on the hilt in his hand – Zoro glanced down at the blade and knew he was lucky Nami hadn’t been there to hear any of that. She might’ve tried to stab him, but he couldn’t help it—Sanji opened his mouth, barked something feisty, and Zoro just needed to retaliate. There was a chemistry there that would be amazing if he could just get the photographer to cool off a bit.

Staring down at his reflection in the blade, Zoro could see the thoughtful frown creasing his brow and thinning his lips before forcing himself to relax. He needed to keep a level head. No matter how badly he wanted the photographer, it was clear his blunt approach wasn’t going to work in this instance.

If he was being honest, Zoro hadn’t expected Sanji to actually show up at all—especially not with how dramatic his departure had been. As much as Zoro liked annoying Nami, he was a realist. That kind of rejection had pretty much convinced him that he’d seen the last of the spunky photographer. For all his attitude the other day, Zoro was able to see that in regards to Sanji he had come on a little strong—it just meant he had to change tactics to something more… subtle.

First things first—he needed to apologize.

Carefully dragging the cloth a final time along the back of the blade in a harsh sweep to get any excess oil, Zoro inspected the iridescent blade before setting it down. He kicked his legs off his desk and pushed himself up. Making his way over to the photographer and stopping just a few feet shy of him – best not to stand too close lest he catch another knee – Zoro waited patiently as Sanji pointedly ignored him and continued to fiddle with his camera.

Once it became apparent Zoro wasn’t going to leave – and Sanji couldn’t feign ignorance for any longer – the photographer glanced up. His glare, short and pointed. Clearly ordering Zoro to be quick about whatever he wanted.

Trying for charming, Zoro started, “Look, Kicky–”

Sanji arched a dangerous brow.

Zoro backtracked.

“Look, Sanji ,” Zoro broached again – carefully – Sanji still looked unimpressed, but not nearly as hostile. “About last time—I read the situation wrong.”

All at once, Sanji found his voice with a harsh scoff, “No shit , you read the situation wrong."

Zoro’s brow twitched. “Ye–”

“What about my behavior gave you the green light? Do you kiss everyone who calls you a cunt?!”

Zoro tried again—growing irritated. “N–”

“Then why would you kiss me?! You can’t just go around doing that to people like you own them, you rich, entitled, pri–”

“Okay!” Zoro finally snapped. Pointing aggressively at Sanji, he said, “But you did kiss back.”

Sanji’s jaw dropped.

Zoro instantly regretted it.

With a heavy sigh, Zoro quickly retracted his hand into a fist and forced himself to lower it. Already mentally reprimanding himself—awaiting Sanji’s violent rebuttal at any moment. This was going less than poorly—and despite Sanji’s vitriol, all Zoro could think about when the guy was getting up in his face and biting out those comments was how much he just wanted to pick him up and pin him to the nearest wall. Ravish him a little. Give him an actual reason to scream at him…

Cutting off that train of thought before it got out of hand, Zoro looked down at Sanji to find him still slack-jawed and wordlessly sputtering around a retort. At least it was good to know Sanji was aware of what he did—it didn’t help Zoro all that much though.

Zoro extended a much more polite hand this time to Sanji.

“I’m sorry.” He strove for sincerity, “You made yourself clear; it won’t happen again.”

“Yeah.” Coming back to himself, Sanji snapped—jutting his chin up at him. “Yeah, you’re right it won’t.”

All fired up – hardened glare, and bared teeth – Sanji was intriguingly feisty, and Zoro had to refrain from rising to the bait. He gave a polite incline of his head in agreement. Moving to step away, Zoro offered an apologetic smile, which was only met by a cautious leer on Sanji’s part. Annoying, albeit warranted—Zoro understood why Sanji was wary of him.

Zoro decided to try again; clearing his throat with a soft cough.

Sanji’s gaze was spectacularly flat—he wasn’t giving Zoro much to work with.

“You, uh…” Gesturing towards Sanji with a casual hand; waving at the lounge area that they would be using for the interview and asked, “You got everything?”

Sanji blinked—one of his brows skeptically raised to force Zoro to clarify.

Dropping his hand to dip into his pocket, Zoro tried again, “Do you need anything?”

A frown flickered across the photographer’s face at Zoro’s tone, but quickly eased when he considered the question and cast a glance about the office. That spark of inspiration lit up his face. It was bright – and mesmerizing – reminding Zoro of how he looked at the wedding when working unperturbed.

His guard was dropped.

 “Yeah, actually. I was thinking some dramatic, artificial lighting would be better for this.” Hands on his hips – an adorable tilt to his head – he turned to the massive wall of glass subjecting them to the afternoon sun. It was far brighter in the office today compared to earlier in the week. With a sigh, Sanji muttered, “It’s just too bad these don’t have blinds.”

Zoro picked up a remote off his desk—he pointed it at the wall.

Pressing a button, Zoro tucked the remote under his folded arms and he leaned back to gauge Sanji’s reaction as the electrochromic glass steadily darkened. Sanji seemed mildly surprised, but not at all impressed. Once the room was comfortably dimmed, Zoro released the control switch and tossed the remote aside.

“Yeah, of course they can dim,” Sanji noted with an eye roll, then turned to Zoro. “I’ll go get the lights then, shall I?”

Zoro couldn’t help but be intrigued that Sanji wasn’t dazzled—normally when he showed off his gadgets people reacted differently.

“I could just call somebody to do it?”

“No, that’s fine,” Sanji shook his head. “I’d prefer to go—make sure I get the right ones.”

“Alright.”

Zoro decided against suggesting he could just have them all brought up. 

Watching Sanji leave and noting the obvious spring in his step, Zoro couldn’t help but find the photographer frustratingly adorable. It was infuriating that the guy was playing hard-to-get. Channeling his irritation into his work, Zoro returned to his seat, picked up the sword, and moved onto waxing.

~

Slipping out of the office and down the hall, Sanji trotted toward the elevator, pressing the button that would lead him back to the studio floor. He wanted to make sure he got back before the interviewer showed up.

Just as the doors opened and Sanji stepped inside, he pulled his phone out to check the time. The guy was late—way later than Sanji would ever let himself be. He groaned, not looking forward to Zoro losing his temper because his time had been wasted. It made Sanji dread going back in there.

Backtracking the route they took a few days ago, Sanji eventually managed to make it to the same studio they had started out in. He tried the door and found it to be locked. 

Shit. 

Quietly, Sanji gave a polite knock, hoping it wasn’t occupied and interrupting a shoot. When there was no answer, he leaned back to look under the door. Lights off. He scoffed because of course this would happen when he was in a hurry. 

Sanji continued down the hall, deeper than he had gone before, and peered into the open rooms to see if he could find anyone. Most were closed and the few that had their doors propped open were empty. He finally managed to stumble on a few people.

“Hi, excuse me?” Sanji announced himself, rapping his knuckles against the door frame for their attention. The two young men looked up. “There’s a room down the hall I need access to, would either of you be able to help me? Or at least know someone who could?”

The blond one stepped away – setting a prop down – and approached Sanji. “Sure, what did you need?”

Realizing he should have opened with that, Sanji ducked his head in apology. “Sorry, just need some lighting equipment for an interview—they’re in studio three.” He turned to lead the way thinking the guy was following but stopped short when he was questioned again.

“What interview, exactly?”

A little confused as to why he had to over-explain, Sanji quirked an eyebrow. He wondered just how many interviews were currently going on at Santoryu to be asked such a question. Wasn’t it obvious? Looking between the two, Sanji slowly answered, “Uhm… For Zoro?”

The guy in the back, a short-haired brunet in sunglasses – inside, no less – snickered, but the blond was quick to correct Sanji. “You mean, ‘Mr. Roronoa’?”

And if that sort of ass-kissing attitude didn’t piss him off! Straightening, Sanji dropped the polite professionalism. “Yeah, that’s who I said.”

The guy returned with tilting his head and shrugging. “If you’re gonna lie, try to come up with a better one.”

“No, I don’t think he’s lying,” the brunet piped up. 

The two of them looked over to see him wearing a tight-lipped smile. Peering over his sunglasses, he gave a greasy grin, waggled his eyebrows, and jerked his head upward toward Sanji—waiting for the other to catch on.

The blond whipped back around to face him. Without hesitance, he rudely took a step back to give Sanji a full, invasive once over, clicking his tongue as he observed. “Oooh, I see what you mean.” They both shared an obnoxious laugh before he continued. “Yeah, you are definitely here for him.”

Sanji could feel the muscle under his eye twitching at the implication. He needed to take a deep breath before he did something he would regret. “The room,” he said between gritted teeth. His balled-up fists at his sides shook with irritation. 

“Right, right,” the guy chuckled. He waved to the brunet, letting him know he would be back, and then gestured for Sanji to proceed. 

Sanji stomped down the hall – pissed off all over again – thinking of Zoro’s blunt way of showing his interest and… and his taste! Even the employees knew who Zoro liked keeping around—they only needed one look at him!

When they reached the door, Sanji impatiently tapped his foot as he watched the guy yank on the badge reel at his belt, touching the card to the scanner until it accepted with a small green light. He opened the door for him with a smarmy gesture, giving a deep bow and rolling flourish of his hand as he stepped aside to let Sanji in. The exaggerated kindness of his previously opposite behavior was driving Sanji closer to wringing his neck instead of focusing on his job.

Before the guy took his leave, Sanji couldn’t help but notice he was repressing a smirk. Knowing exactly what images were running through his mind, Sanji gave his dismissal by aggressively flicking his hand under his chin at him, then entered the studio without giving his thanks.

While wrapping the cords around the light fixtures he needed, Sanji grumbled under his breath—annoyed at how he was being treated by not only the CEO of the company but even random employees! To think he was hired because of his skill made Sanji’s cheeks burn with embarrassment. For a small moment, Sanji genuinely believed his work had been recognized.

Stupid. 

Of course that wasn’t the case.

Even after a good swift kick to the dick, Zoro wasn’t shy about letting his eyes wander. He may have been keeping his hands – and mouth – to himself, but that didn’t condone any of his behavior! Or that shit of an excuse for an apology. 

Sanji could at least give him credit for manning up and saying he was sorry, but it hardly seemed good enough. It had started off badly – Zoro even bringing up Sanji kissing him back – but he eventually ended it in a meaningful way. And that was hard for Sanji to ignore—he hated being such a nice and understanding guy.

Kicking the door closed behind him with arms full of equipment, Sanji waddled down the hall to the elevator, cringing the entire way. 

Yeah, Sanji knew he kissed Zoro back, he just didn’t mean to!

When Zoro had stepped into his space, it brought a wave of his cologne with him—a smell he had no time to place because then Zoro’s lips were on his. Hypnotized by the mixture of Zoro’s alluring aroma and gentle kiss, Sanji was helpless against him.

And so he moved his lips against Zoro’s, relishing in how right it felt.

The elevator chimed and the door opened. Sanji immediately shook his head and flung those thoughts as far away from his mind as he could—across the world and buried six feet deep. With an unnecessary amount of force, Sanji mashed the button to the top floor once he had maneuvered all the lights inside with him.

Stupid, selfish, horny CEO, Sanji thought as he watched the floor number tick higher. 

If Zoro had apologized for ruining his shots at the wedding, Sanji wouldn’t have been opposed to offering a way for Zoro to make it up to him—he was overly attractive, someone he would have loved to share a night between the sheets with.

But he didn’t and proceeded to be a cunt for the remainder of the night and well into Sanji’s first day on the job—which was why Sanji was currently steaming over the thought of Zoro and his backward ways of trying to pick him up.

The doors opened and once Sanji pulled out the lights, he stood in the hallway for a moment to cool down. He needed to quell his anger before he went back into the office. The interviewer was probably there by now and they could very well have been waiting on him the entire time. He shuddered at the thought of the reprimanding Zoro handed out while he was gone, but was glad he had missed it.

“He’s not that bad,” Sanji said to himself. “You’ve dealt with worse.”

~

Enjoying the momentary solitude of his office, Zoro’s steady hands worked the wax over the length of the blade. Practiced, repetitive motion that he’d spent many hours perfecting—both calming, and rewarding. Working out his pent-up desires with every pointed stroke.

Just because he’d given the photographer his word to leave him alone didn’t change the fact that Zoro wanted him desperately —to the point it was hard to think. Which didn’t exactly help solve his blond-haired predicament.

Apologizing had done something , but not nearly enough.

By the time Sanji returned, Zoro was no nearer to a solution when it came to Sanji than when he’d left.

Shouldering his way through the door, Sanji kicked it shut behind himself as his arms were full – cradling a couple of lights, and several bundles of cables slung over his shoulder – voice bright and excited as he announced, “Alright, just give me a few more minutes to set these up and then we can start.”

Not looking up, Zoro shouted back, “He’s not here yet.”

“Oh.” Sanji glanced around, almost looking worried as he asked, “Really?”

“Yup,” Zoro grunted.

“I thought the interview was at three o’clock.”

“It was,” Zoro drawled with a shrug. “Guess he’s late.”

Personally, Zoro didn’t care whether or not the interview happened – most of these gigs were painfully repetitive anyway – but he’d given up on arguing against this promotional garbage a long time ago. He could only hope they never showed up. Then he could leave—it was only out of respect for Nami’s efforts that he stayed longer than he wanted to.

Preoccupied with dragging the buffing pad down the length of the blade, Zoro finished with a few extra swipes to make sure it was as clean as possible before tossing it aside. Zoro inspected the blade happily—her smelted grain was practically glowing. Pleased with the job, he pushed himself up and moved to return her to the display rack when Sanji spoke up.

“Hey, sword-freak.” Sanji barked the insult with such confidence that it took Zoro a second to register—the rude boldness of the photographer was constantly shocking. “Got a second?”

Staying his hand, Zoro dropped the blade to rest across his shoulders and turned to face the photographer. Midway through setting up the second light – hands halted in their task – Sanji was watching Zoro just as pointedly. Zoro caught the way Sanji’s eyes flicked to the sword, and then back to meet Zoro’s gaze. Giving the adjustment knob a final torque to ensure the light wouldn’t collapse, Sanji then gestured to the lounge, “Can I get you in frame for a light test?”

Zoro shrugged, “Sure.”

Making his way over with the blade still in hand, Zoro came to a stop between the chairs and turned to face the photographer. He was used to these kinds of situations—always being told where to go, how to stand, but it didn’t mean he liked it. At the very least, this time the photographer was fun to work with, and nice to look at.

“What should I do?”

“Just stay there while I get set up. I’d rather have everything ready so we can start right away since we’re already behind schedule.” Sanji muttered, already fidgeting with his camera, “Do you want to put the sword away?”

“No.”

Sanji was quiet for a moment before shrugging, “Ohhh-kay, then.”

Standing in the center of the lounge, Zoro absently looked away as Sanji snapped a few shots, fiddled with his camera, then took several more. He drummed his fingers against the hilt of the sword—waiting for all of this to be over—only for Sanji to take another couple shots. His attention solely, and wholly, on his camera. Adjusting and tweaking to sure everything was just right—moving a light stand slightly to the left, and then dropping to a knee to get a different angle.

Zoro decided to have some fun with the photographer.

Flicking the blade off his shoulder with an expert flourish, Zoro extended it upwards in a grand motion while placing his other hand proudly on his hip. Sanji stopped what he was doing. Keeping himself poised with the sword held towards the ceiling, Zoro thrived off Sanji’s incredulity as the photographer slowly lowered his camera, peeking up at Zoro with an arched brow, “ What are you doing?”

“Posing.”

Face pinching, Sanji was clearly about to protest before he thought better of it and his mouth shut with a click—shaking his head in slight disbelief. After snapping a couple more shots, Sanji soon pushed himself back to his feet and checked the camera. A bemused smile lit up his face.

“Alright, we’re good.” Sanji affirmed, he then held out the camera towards Zoro, “Come take a look.”

Careful to lower the blade away from Sanji, Zoro made his way over to the photographer and stopped just close enough so he could peer over at the small LCD screen. Unable to stop himself from smiling at the shot – cool, but just a little bit ridiculous – he loved it. He turned to look down at the photographer who happened to glance up at Zoro in the same moment.

Zoro caught those eyes and smiled, “Awesome.”

“You’re an idiot.”

There was no way to miss the fond way he rolled his eyes, accompanied with a soft huff of a laugh. Despite his teasing, it was clear he was enjoying himself—which wasn’t something Zoro thought he’d be pleased to see.

Once again, Zoro found himself captivated by the photographer, but that playfulness that leached so naturally from the blond was quickly blocked off, and once more looked warily at Zoro. Like he still wasn’t sure if Zoro was going to keep his word. It was a shame because while he enjoyed Sanji’s fiery side, his passionate side was even more intriguing. For the umpteenth time, Zoro internally bemoaned Sanji’s claimed disinterest.

Last time they’d been this close it had ended much less amicably – Zoro could sense the tension – so he stepped away and gave Sanji some space. He made for the wall to return the sword to its display. Making sure she was seated just right before turning back to find Sanji looking at him, and his camera held judgmentally in the other—Zoro scowled by way of question.

“You’re filthy, by the way.” Sanji clarified, “That grease is showing up under the lights.”

Zoro shrugged.

Sanji’s perplexed frown was adorable.

“As charming as it makes you look...” A playful chuckle slipped through Sanji’s judgemental drawl. He snagged a fresh cloth from Zoro’s desk. Brandishing it as a genuine smile crept onto that typically sneering mouth and those distracting lips were ordering, “I don’t think Nami – or the magazine – would be too happy with me if I photographed you like this.”

Taking the cloth, Zoro leaned against his desk and scrubbed at his face an adequate amount before tilting his cheek expectantly towards Sanji. There was a long moment where Sanji stared at Zoro—exhaustion evident. Then he sighed dramatically, ripped the cloth from Zoro’s hand and stepped between Zoro’s legs with a tisk and admonishing shake of his head.

Brows jumping when Sanji moved into his space – those long fingers clutching his chin to keep him in place – grabby as ever—Zoro bit his tongue against a comment. Sanji forcefully rubbed at a spot on Zoro’s cheek with fierce – almost punishing – determination. Despite the grip on his jaw forcing him away, Zoro peered out of the corner of his eye at Sanji—brow pinched with stern focus.

Zoro enjoyed the attention.

There was an ease between them like the first time – before Zoro had ruined it – and once again Zoro found himself intrinsically attracted to the photographer. He wanted him. Itched to grab that cloth, toss it aside, and haul Sanji the rest of the way between his thighs – kiss those smokey lips again, feel that coarse stubble along his jaw – but he’d given his word.

So he did nothing.

Pausing in his abusive scrubbing, Sanji’s thumb and forefinger pinched Zoro’s chin and tilted his face around to inspect for any more grease before releasing him—tossing the rag into his lap.

“Clean your hands.”

Zoro bit his tongue against making a flirty comment about Sanji being as bossy as he was grabby.

Picking up the rag and following the order without complaint, Zoro first wiped off his palms and then set about getting the smaller stains. Working the rag meticulously between each of his fingers. He rubbed at a particularly stubborn spot and watched Sanji’s eyes glued to the motion.

A thought occurred to Zoro.

Twisting and transferring the cloth into the other hand, Zoro began working the grease off his forearm with strong, purposeful motions. He tracked Sanji’s stare. Most notably the way Sanji’s gaze appeared entranced every time Zoro flexed his arms—the dusting of pink on his cheeks a dead giveaway.

It was almost embarrassingly obvious that Sanji was interested—he was just stubborn. Zoro drew out the task – milking it for all it was worth and making sure Sanji had gotten his fill – until his hands were overly clean. Finally tossing the rag aside.

Zoro held up his hands for Sanji to inspect, “Better?”

Sanji snapped back into himself.

“Yeah… that’ll do.” Eyes darting between Zoro’s palms, Sanji quickly pretended to be disinterested, “Good to know you can do at least that much by yourself.”

Fighting back a smirk with some effort, Zoro slowly lowered his hands and dropped them to cross comfortably across his chest. He breathed deep. Watching Sanji – the photographer had already turned away – an obvious blush was visible just above the collar of his shirt, and a nervous moue twisted his lips into a cute pout. He’d promised not to do anything else, but he also knew he wasn’t imagining the way Sanji’s gaze kept lingering.

There was something there.

Being presumptuous had wound up with a knee to the dick which meant he needed a new tactic. Nami had berated him for not just offering like a normal person—perhaps it was worth a shot. There was no harm in just extending an olive branch...

“Hey...” Zoro grunted, “Do you–”

Door thrown open dramatically, a flustered man stumbled into the room followed closely by Nami. Zoro’s offer was cut short. Both he and Sanji glanced over as the man rushed forward and began rambling, dipping into several dramatic bows, “S-So sorry, sir, about my tardiness!” 

Sanji immediately stepped away.

Masking his disappointment, Zoro watched with dismay as the photographer returned to the lounge and made himself busy making sure the area was immaculate. Zoro knew he hadn’t imagined it this time. There was a chance with the photographer, he’d just need to play his cards right, but first things first he needed to get this ridiculous interview over with.

Pushing to his feet, Zoro turned his attention to the reporter that had entered and forced a smile. A portly man with foxish features hurrying towards him with a hand extended, “Thank you for your patience, Mr. Roronoa.”

“Zoro’s fine.”

Taking up the journalist’s hand in a short shake, he was then forced to let the man shake it vigorously as he continued to blabber an apology.

“Once again sir, I simply must apologize for keeping you waiting,” the man kept bowing overtly, “I understand you’re a busy man, and I–”

Tuning out the inane babble, Zoro waited until the reporter slackened his grip enough that he could remove his hand without it coming off as rude. He then held it up placatingly. Appearing as calm as possible – something Nami had forced him to practice endlessly – and assuaged the man’s fears quickly.

“It’s fine,” Zoro murmured, and said a little louder, “however, I’m not the only one you kept waiting.”

Despite his charming smile, Zoro made sure his tone left no room for discussion before gesturing towards Sanji who was keeping occupied with his gear. Zoro inclined his head towards the photographer, but his gaze was on the reporter. There was blatant confusion on the man’s face, but Zoro refused to waver beyond an expectant look and waited pointedly until the journalist turned to Sanji with an understanding nod.

~

Looking over his shoulder as he reached above him to mindlessly adjust a light to appear busy, Sanji couldn’t pry his eyes away from Zoro. What he had just witnessed… he didn’t know if Zoro was toning it down because he was there or if Zoro always treated his inferiors that way. When Sanji had come back with the light fixtures and heard the interviewer still hadn’t arrived, he was positive the CEO would have blown his top for having his time wasted.

But he didn’t.

That wasn’t something Sanji was used to— he just wasn’t.

And then Zoro did the unheard of! Instead of forcing the interviewer to his knees to beg for his forgiveness, he directed the apology toward… Sanji? And away from himself?

Turning back around, Sanji finished tightening the thumbscrew on the key light and moved to the next as he tried wrapping his mind around that one. It felt weird having that sort of attention focused on him, and felt even more awkward when he could feel the interviewer come up behind him.

“It appears I owe you an apology, boy. I didn’t mean to hold everyone up.”

He didn’t give eye contact and he mumbled through his words. He sounded less sincere in his apology than Zoro did—which had to take real effort. But Sanji didn’t expect to be treated better, no matter who barked the orders. Once an asshole, always an asshole.

Sanji glanced over to Zoro. He had his back to them as he gathered up the various cleaning supplies laid out over his desk. “Uhm, right,” he started with, unable to look away from the CEO again. Blinking in astonishment, Sanji tried to process through what Zoro had done for him, wondering if he even knew the weight of such a small act. He may not have hired Sanji for his work, but it still seemed there was a bit of respect for his job—however small it may be. “No harm done.”

“You’ll be documenting us tonight, then?” the interviewer continued, quickly changing the subject.

Sanji wiped his hands on the front of his pants before facing him, offering one up to shake in hopes to push past the uncomfortable moment—though, he didn’t take it right away. Clearing his throat, Sanji gestured to his hand and said, “Sanji.”

“Sanji, eh?” The man asked in a curious tone, already over his remorse. With a scrutinizing glare, he looked him over. Sanji watched as sunken eyes darted across each distinctive feature of his – obviously, he had been recognized – yet, he still asked, as if wanted to hear it for himself. “Sanji who?”

Pursing his lips, he answered, “Just Sanji, will do,” and hoped his unspoken plea was understood.

“Hmm…” He gave another judgmental look and wrinkled his pink, pigmented nose. He gave one last glance up and down as if he were debating whether or not he was going to pry—and thankfully, he didn’t. “Never heard of a ‘Just Sanji.’”

And that’s how Sanji wanted to keep it. He refused to give the interviewer any more information than he needed – despite the suspicion he already knew – and stood his ground by keeping his hand out for him to take. It was the polite and business thing to do and it was the only professional courtesy he’d get out of Sanji.

Huffing, he rolled his eyes and took up Sanji’s hand in an uninterested, limp shake. “The name’s Foxy Silver, but I will be referred to as Mr. Silver. Now—where will we be sitting?”

Glad that was over with, Sanji guided Mr. Silver around the furniture. He sat him down in a chair and told him Zoro would be sitting on the couch adjacent to him, to which he agreed with much delight—not that Sanji would have taken his opinion into account in the first place.

Seeing Zoro on the other side of the room still taking his sweet time while putting his supplies away, Sanji repeatedly snapped his fingers to get him moving. “C’mon, c’mon—let’s go!”

“Oh?” Zoro said. Sanji impatiently pointed for him to sit. “You in charge today or something?”

“Typically, I am,” Sanji muttered to himself as he started fiddling with a light again, dropping it a little more to match Zoro’s height once he sat down.

Once Zoro was comfortable, Nami strode back inside to ask if anyone needed anything. On her way out to fetch refreshments, she did a double-take down at Zoro.

“What happened to your face?! There’s a huge smear now! And your hair?!”

Zoro reached up to touch his cheek but Nami slapped it away.

“Oi!” 

Then, to Sanji’s surprise, she whipped her head in his direction, her eyes set in a deathly glare as she searched for whatever answer she was looking for. Seemingly satisfied in finding nothing, Nami straightened and said, “I’ll fix his makeup when I return with some water. Don’t start before then.”

All three men watched her leave and then Mr. Silver spoke.

“Where is your other camera, boy?” he asked, looking around at the equipment.

Sanji squatted down behind the couch Zoro was on and put the camera just above his shoulder, pointing it at the interviewer. The strong scent of steel poured off him, deliciously mixed with a deep, earthy cedarwood. Sanji found himself breathing a little deeper for more, completely intoxicated. 

He snapped the shutter and previewed the photo, fixing the white balance. Sanji rested the camera on Zoro, popping up above it to look at Mr. Silver. “One will do, no need for another.”

“I would like some video as well. Your camera can record, yes?”

Not liking the way Mr. Silver was emphasizing his words, Sanji stood and gave him a plain look. “Of course it can record,” Sanji snapped in a mocking tone. “Almost all cameras from the last ten years can.”

“Goodie,” Mr. Silver said, clapping his stubby hands together with a smile. “I want at least ten minutes so we can do some promotional ads for the interv–”

“Hey, dipshit—that wasn’t me agreeing. It’s not in my contract to capture video.”

Mr. Silver looked taken aback by Sanji’s crass attitude. He sputtered a few times – utterly appalled – tripping over his tongue before anything remotely comprehensible came out. “How dare you–”

Interrupting him again, Sanji said, “Look, if you want it so bad, take it up with my boss – oh hey – he’s right here! Go ahead, ask ’im.”

The both of them turned to look at the CEO. Elbow propped on the arm of the couch, his cheek rested in his hand as he looked to Mr. Silver’s pleading face, who proceeded to pathetically ask Zoro if it were allowed.

Zoro only answered with a chuckle and a diminutive shake of his head.

“Uh, right, of course. My apologies, Mr. Roronoa.”

Sanji rolled his eyes. What a fuckin’ brown-noser.

Nami strode in with a small compact in one hand and a few different brushes in the other. Sanji held out his hands, wordlessly offering to do it for her, but she continued past him. To busy himself while Nami fixed Zoro up, Sanji made sure everything was set one last time and got into place behind Mr. Silver so he could watch Zoro.

Straightening, Nami cocked her head as she looked down at Zoro with a tired sigh. “Well, he’s as good as he’s gonna get.”

“Will you stop saying that, woman,” Zoro grumbled as he got more comfortable now that she was done fussing over him.

“Nope,” she answered and turned on her heel to leave.

The moment the door fell shut, Mr. Silver pulled out his voice recorder and jumped right into it. “So! Mr. Roronoa. How are you?”

Lazily, he leaned into his palm. “Can’t complain.”

“Wonderful. You’re only thirty-six years young–” Mr. Silver joked, his protruding belly slightly bouncing as he huffed in laughter. Sanji watched as one of Zoro’s eyebrows arched in bemusement. “–and yet Santoryu Tech’s fifteen-year anniversary is coming up. That’s quite the accomplishment. More impressively, you’ve also held the title of World’s Greatest Technology for almost ten years, this year included. How does that feel?”

“Humbling.”

Zoro’s words may have sounded courteous, but Sanji picked up a well-rehearsed vibe from his tone and demeanor right away. Someone who had played the game many, many times before. He briefly wondered if Zoro could even predict what Mr. Silver would ask next.

Having never participated in an event as grand as this one, Sanji was sure to pay close attention. Dropping to a knee next to Mr. Silver, Sanji rested an elbow on the armrest to steady himself and snapped a few photos of Zoro. He hoped he’d perk up because the flat, disinterested face of boredom was as clear as day to Sanji. He’d hate to have nothing good to show from the whole interview.

Mr. Silver waited for a few beats for Zoro to add to his one-word reply. The air felt tense, almost as if the interviewer refused to move on until Zoro gave some extravagant answer to satisfy his ego. Just when Sanji was about to shiver with awkwardness, Mr. Silver finally spoke.

“And what would you accredit to that success?” 

It only took a split second for Zoro to reply, quick to say, “We don’t rest on success, but allow it to challenge us to do better. We create to help—but the world changes, so we must, too.”

Mr. Silver tilted his head with playful doubt. “The critics seem to have a different opinion,” he said, slightly pushing the recorder closer to Zoro. “They think this year’s win is because of your most recent buy-out of Galley-La.”

Lips pursed, Zoro stared at Mr. Silver as he tried sensing what was being implied. “I suppose…” His gaze hardened before he clarified. “Though it was a mutually beneficial acquisition.”

“But they were competition, were they not?”

Zoro took a moment to consider, drumming his fingers against the side of the couch as he thought. Sanji raised his camera at the ready.

“Galley-La’s home brand, Water7, had decent dual-frequency military-grade GPS, but Santoryu’s Tri-Frequency is better, and produced at half the cost.”

Subtle, but a small smile twitched at the corner of Zoro’s mouth when he mentioned cost efficiencies, as if it were more important. Something Sanji only noticed because he was staring through his viewfinder at him, up close and personal. But the smile quickly disappeared as he got back to business.

“Their programming allowed for a user range error of five percent—mine’s three. When it comes to ocean navigation, and search and rescue, that two-point difference can save thousands of lives. With the acquisition, they no longer had to produce their expensive home brand and saw net profit margins of fifteen percent in the first year—plus, I got to take an inferior product off the market.”

As Zoro explained numbers, deep in his element, Sanji could see a spark behind his eyes, eager to get his point across to the interviewer. He pressed down on the shutter, snapping a picture of the fire in his expression.

Camera pressed against his face, Sanji let his lens trail lower, following the natural curve of his strong neck, down the dips of his clavicle, and settled between the hard muscle of his pecs. 

Zoro was dressed more casually with his steep, V-neck cotton shirt, dark maroon color complementing against an obviously old pair of jeans. He had no sense of modesty—the shirt dipping so low, Sanji was able to see the edges of his large, pink scar that was normally hidden by his dress shirts. Inconspicuously twisting the lens just a hair, the camera zoomed in and the details of the wound became clearer, now able to count every hole the suture’s thread left behind. He snapped back up to Zoro’s face, feeling too invasive. 

What he had done was hardly professional.

Sanji tuned back in just in time to hear Zoro wrapping up his defense case, which struck a chord with him. The entire time Zoro had been revealing his reasonings and countering Mr. Silver’s words, it seemed the goal of the business merger was more to help the people rather than padding the company profit.

Crossing an ankle over his knee, Zoro waved his hand in defeat, visibly tired of explaining. “If people choose to see that as buying out the competition, then nothing will change their mind.”

The room was silent as his words sunk in for Mr. Silver. Sanji quickly jumped up, sitting on the cushion next to Zoro, and captured the look of utter astonishment frozen on his face. Sanji held back a snort.

Rapidly blinking, Mr. Silver readjusted his jacket, straightening the lapel of his tacky, purple blazer to buy him some time of recovery. Sanji glanced to his right and saw Zoro was back to his bored self, the fire snuffed out. 

Feeling a bit bad, Sanji crossed the lounge area to the second couch, leaning against the arm – pulling his leg up to get more comfortable – and waited to see if Zoro would become animated again. The little recorder menacingly blinked red, mocking the sincerity of Zoro’s monologue. No one reading the interview would see what Sanji saw.

Which sucked because it was the only bit from the interview that was even worth listening to. The rest of Mr. Silver’s questions drew nothing out of Zoro, asking a single thing that piqued his interest—just one lame question after another. Even Sanji found himself zoning out every so often.

Inconspicuously, Sanji fished into his pocket, pulling his phone out a sliver—only enough to see the time. It had been a little over forty-five minutes now. Just as Sanji let out a small sigh, something Mr. Silver said had eventually snapped him back into the conversation.

“–with knowing seven languages, being so involved in the businesses around the world must come easy to you–”

“Eight,” Sanji interjected with a correction. Realizing what he had just let slip, Sanji’s eyes bulged as he slapped a hand to cover his mouth. 

Regrettably flicking his attention to Zoro, he saw he was smirking—arching a playful brow as he chuckled, “You looked me up?”

Sanji dropped his hand. Rolling his shoulders and clicking his tongue, he quipped, “As if, you insufferable twat. Unfortunately, my friend hasn’t shut up about you.”

“Well, clearly you were listening.”

“Yup, and my ears bled the whole time.”

Zoro threw his head back to bark a laugh at the ceiling—one of the few genuine smiles he had given since the interview started. Admittedly, Sanji thought happiness looked much better on him than his usual stoic nature.

Completely forgetting they weren’t alone, Sanji was slightly startled when Mr. Silver spoke up, raising a polite hand to Zoro. 

“With all due respect, sir…” That thin veil of restraint appeared to snap. Gesturing violently towards Sanji, he screeched, “Why did you choose this guy?”

Sitting back in astonishment, Sanji looked to Zoro and then back Mr. Silver, slightly chuckling as he said, “Why are you talking about me as if I’m not here?”

Mr. Silver’s eyes flicked to him for a brief moment, an acknowledgment he had been heard, but then returned to Zoro to ignore Sanji even further. “What was wrong with my photographer?”

Butting back in, Sanji dramatically contorted his face into displeasure before pointing toward Mr. Silver’s head. “Ya know, I sure hope your photographer is better than your barber because that combover is not doing you any favors, buddy.”

Just as the last words left his mouth, Zoro snorted—Sanji turning to him with a mischievous grin of accomplishment. In the corner of his eye, Sanji saw Mr. Silver’s jaw drop, practically slamming over his chest at the audacious remark.

Without breaking eye contact with Zoro, Sanji lazily angled his camera to snap a photo of the stunned, vastly bemused look still plastered on the interviewer’s face.

Ignoring Mr. Silver’s incredulous sudden stammering for a comeback, Sanji looked down at the screen and brought up the most recent photo.

“ Ooh~ ” Sanji crooned. He held out the camera to show Mr. Silver the unflattering result of his twisted expression with his hand partially raised. “That’s a keeper for sure.”

Zoro casually slipping a hand over his mouth and looking away to stifle a laugh did not go unnoticed by either of them—Mr. Silver a little embarrassed by the whole situation, and Sanji absolutely ecstatic from the win.

Irritably huffing, Mr. Silver pursed his lips and sneered. He opened his mouth to speak but stopped himself, eyes darting to Zoro. He took a breath to reel himself in and turned to the CEO to impatiently ask, “Can I please return to my questions?!”

Even though they both had enjoyed the teasing, Zoro gave Sanji a look, wordlessly asking him to keep quiet so they could continue this train wreck of an interview. 

Sanji gave a deep, dramatic bow. “I yield the floor back to you.”

~

Tension still running high in the room, Zoro did his best to recover his aplomb after Sanji’s biting comments—as entertaining as ever. It was interesting to see the photographer taking out his anger on someone other than Zoro for once. However, Zoro could admit it wasn’t nearly as fun spectating. 

“Good.” Mr. Silvers huffed, “You aren’t being paid to waste our time. In fact, I’ve no idea why a Vinsmoke is working anyway.”

Visibly startled by the name-drop, Sanji’s incredibly cool facade cracked for a moment as he snapped, “Excuse me?”

A terribly smug smile crept onto the journalist’s face at breaking the photographer, before dismissing him with a look and turning back to Zoro; already diving back into his questioning. However, Zoro’s gaze was still on Sanji. Something about the name had set the photographer off.

“No, no,” Sanji demanded, “what did you say?”

“You heard me, Vinsmoke brat,” Mr. Silver sneered, before flicking his fingers in a clear motion for Sanji to raise his camera. “Let’s continue, shall we?”

“Hey, wise-ass.” Holding up his camera by way of explanation, Sanji huffed, “I actually earn my money.”

“Please!” Mr. Silver scoffed, “A tripod could do your job!”

“It’s more than that!” Sanji snarled defensively, “But, of course, an ignorant shit-head like you wouldn’t understand the skill involved.”

“You’re just a self-important, trust fund kid with an eccentric hobby—did your father get you this gig?”

An icy chill followed the statement.

Everything about Sanji was a scaldingly hot energy – his temper, a hurricane of fire, and smoke, and explosives – but this was different . So much so that it actually managed to get Zoro’s attention; in all the myriad of ways he’d managed to tick Sanji off, he’d never seen this from the photographer before.

This was a cold fury.

Sanji licked his teeth and nodded calmly.

“Alright.”

Carefully removing the camera strap from around his neck, Sanji was frighteningly unreadable – it appeared like the photographer was going to pack up and leave – but then he set the camera aside and looked up. Zoro recognized that look all too well. Fire in his eyes and steam coming out his ears, Sanji had just managed to get a foot planted on the coffee table – already hiking up a sleeve – when Zoro knew he had to put a stop to everything.

“Enough.”

On his feet a moment later, Zoro’s sudden movement was thankfully enough to snap Sanji out of his rage. He still had a hand hooked in the sleeve he was rolling up. However, upon meeting Zoro’s gaze Sanji thankfully understood it was over—giving a curt nod and removing his foot from the table.

Zoro’s gaze turned to Mr. Silver.

“We’re done here.”

A chilling silence followed the statement—despite Zoro’s casual demeanor it was clear that the comment was an order, not a suggestion. There was no inflection to his voice—calm and amiable. Nonetheless, the startled expression on Mr. Silver’s face was enough to confirm his point had been made.

“Give the rest of your questions to Nami on your way out,” Zoro murmured, “We’ll send the photos and completed answers within forty-eight hours.”

Mr. Silver began babbling, but Sanji just glared.

“Yes! Yes, sir, of course!”

Sliding his hands into his pockets – while keeping a wary eye on the photographer – Zoro waited patiently as the journalist bolted to his feet and hurriedly began gathering up his affects. Papers and recorders shoved haphazardly into his bag. Flustered, apologetic babbling accompanying him until he was stumbling away with several gracious nods.

“Thank you again, Mr. Roronoa.” Mr. Silvers bowed deep as he backed his way out of the office. It didn’t go unnoticed that the man was clearly ignoring Sanji when he added pointedly, “It’s been a pleasure.”

Then he shut the door.

A heavy silence followed the journalist’s removal, but when Zoro turned around he found Sanji about ready to break a light over his knee. He was pacing furiously. There was a murderous intent – teeth bared, gritted – on his face that was reminiscent of when the photographer had left Zoro on the floor post-dick kicking.

“Son of a–” Hands raised – appearing to be miming strangling a throat – Sanji muttered some choice swears under his breath, “I’ll show you an eccentric hobby, you mother fuckin’ , piece of shit, cunt, asshole!”

Zoro decided to give Sanji a moment.

Moving to his desk, Zoro snagged the remote to undim the windows, but the sudden return of sunlight did nothing to quell Sanji’s fury. With the glass returned to its usual transparency, Zoro tossed the control back onto the desk and glanced at Sanji, who was now puttering about the lounge.

Tearing down the lights with a vengeance, Sanji continued to mutter obscenities under his breath while he worked quickly. He got the lights dismantled in record time. Bundling up the cables with swift, jerky motions – looping a cable neatly around hand and elbow – movements practiced and efficient.

“‘Mr. Roronoa~’" Head lolling back, Sanji rolled his eyes with exasperation. Adding a high inflection to his obvious mockery, before his mouth immediately fell into disgust—Sanji scoffed, “Brown-nosing, bastard! ”

That shocked a snort from Zoro—finally causing Sanji to glance up. It was clear from his expression he had forgotten Zoro could hear him. Eyes narrowing before swiftly replacing his shock with an irritated eye roll.

At this point, Zoro was unable to stop the reluctant smile from twisting his lips at Sanji’s obvious disdain for the reporter. His blunt vulgarity was delightful. Now – more than ever – he was convinced that his decision to hire this guy had been the right one; even if that meant having to intervene to keep him from ripping a journalist’s head off now and then.

A devilish smirk split Zoro’s face.

“‘Mr. Roronoa’?” He parroted. “You gonna start calling me that now?”

Face twisting comically, Sanji mimed a horrible, raspy gag. He held his stomach for good measure. Once he was certain Zoro had gotten the point, he straightened and gifted him a flat smile.

“Uhhh… no.”

Zoro’s smile never faltered—he’d expected as much.

However – despite their banter – it wasn’t lost on Zoro that Sanji was still clearly upset. When Zoro spoke again, he made sure to soften his tone.

“You okay?”

A single, momentary flicker of confusion flashed across Sanji’s face before seemingly understanding that Zoro had just witnessed his whole tantrum. Instantly, Sanji was remarkably cool—masking his distaste for the journalist effortlessly. Sharp gaze now pinned on Zoro.

“Didn’t need you to do that shit,” Sanji sneered, before looking away—despite his confident tone, it was clear he was a little embarrassed, “ending it early.”

“It wasn’t for you,” Zoro lied with a shrug. “It’d be a PR nightmare if my photographer attacked a journalist.”

“ Your photographer?” Barking through an exaggerated laugh, Sanji pointed to himself with a playful – if threatening – tilt of his head; something about his tone ordered Zoro to watch what he said next. “Certainly, you’re not referring to me?”

Zoro rolled his eyes.

“ Whatever you want to call it.” Zoro drawled, “Any mess you make, Nami will have to clean up.”

Sanji sneered, “You mean like she did for you ?”

A wicked, sharp grin lit up Zoro’s face as he – almost pridefully – purred, “Precisely.”

Sanji’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t say anything else.

“What’d she do, by the way?”

“Sent me very nice flowers, actually.”

“Flowers?” Zoro echoed, incredibly skeptical, “And that worked? ”

“They didn’t hurt,” Head tilted back to accompany his smug tone, Sanji shrugged, “but I never intended on skipping out on the rest of the contract.”

Zoro arched a curious brow.

“I wasn’t going to let some pig get in the way of furthering my career.” A devilish smirk curled Sanji’s lips, “Do you realize how good this will look on my resume?"

Zoro didn’t respond.

Well acquainted with the rhetorical questions sent his way on a daily basis by Nami, Zoro instead just gave a slight incline of his head. He was more than aware, and more than used to being used. Everyone always wanted something.

A frustrated sigh heaved from the photographer. Gesturing to the door – indicating the now gone journalist – Sanji grumbled with a defeated shake of his head, “But I swear, sometimes it is not worth it.”

It wasn’t any of Zoro’s business – and frankly, he hadn’t cared – but since Nami had informed him of the photographer’s aversion to his last name, he’d assumed the relationship was somewhat tenuous. However, now he was beginning to see it was for different reasons. Judging from Sanji’s reaction, this wasn’t the first time he’d struggled with ridicule due to his family’s name, but it wasn’t like Zoro was much better than the journalist.

There was no doubt that his hiring Sanji for reasons other than his photography skill hadn’t made him keen on returning. Zoro was surprised to find he felt marginally guilty. It had never been his intention to bring the man’s skill at his job into question—he’d merely been trying to kill two birds with one stone.

All of his previous plans regarding the photographer abandoned, Zoro extended a harmless offer free from ulterior motives, “You seem like you need a drink.”

Sanji’s face twisted—disgruntled.

“It can be my way of making up for my behavior from before,” Zoro clarified, then added, “I’ll buy.”

“I can pay for my own fuckin’ drinks!”

“So that’s a yes?” Zoro smirked.

Surprisingly, instead of refusing and storming out, Sanji actually fell quiet and appeared to be genuinely considering the offer. His gaze flitting away. Lip caught by his teeth as he chewed on it thoughtfully – Zoro could only guess at what was running through the woefully capricious photographer’s head – before finally looking back at Zoro firmly.

“Sure.” Sanji shrugged, “Why not.”

There was a beat where Zoro was genuinely shocked Sanji accepted, before an easy smile fell into place, “Great. I know a good place.”

Zoro moved for the door, but Sanji headed for the lights again.

“Don’t worry about it,” Zoro waved Sanji down, “I’ll have somebody collect them later.”

“Nah, all part of the job. I won’t be long.”

“You don’t have to–”

“Just lemme do it.” Cutting Zoro off, Sanji’s tone made it clear this wasn’t up for debate. He finished loading the cables onto his shoulder while gathering the lights up in his arms. Gaze flicking to Zoro and adding with a smirk, “My job’s not your problem, remember?”

Zoro knew he deserved that.

“Well, at least gimme something,” he held out a hand, “that way we don’t have to come back up here.”

“Gotta get your work for the week in or somethin’?”

“Something like that.”

Murmuring the words with a roll of his eyes, Zoro stepped close – but still carefully out of dick-kicking range – to snag a few of the larger light stands from Sanji’s arms. He then waited until Sanji had grabbed his pack before heading for the door. Allowing a grin to crook his mouth when Sanji called after him.

“Careful.” Sanji muttered with an unconvincing tone, “Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”

TBC…

Chapter Text

co•ri•an•der (ˈkɔr iˌæn dər) – hidden worth, lust, and a guilty pleasure

~

Stepping toward the elevator straight ahead, Sanji just about tripped over a cord when he reeled around at the sound of Zoro’s shoes walking away from him. He leaned back as he took a few steps backward to peer beyond the corner and down the hall after Zoro.

“Uhm…?” 

When Zoro turned to his voice, Sanji maneuvered the box in his hand to point in the opposite direction—the direction he thought they’d be going. 

“We’re dropping the stuff off in the studio, right?”

Zoro’s face crinkled. “Yeah? C’mon.”

Sanji shrugged with a tilt of his head as he turned around. Who was he to correct the CEO of his own company? Zoro was probably taking him on the shortest route possible – maybe he was eager to wind down and start his weekend early – Sanji sure was.

Picking up his pace to not fall too far behind, Sanji unquestioningly followed Zoro’s lead, now able to freely take in the scenery of the office space he hadn’t managed to see before. In addition to the planters outside each office, the walls were adorned with beautiful artwork and photography. He wanted to stop and take a closer look, even finding himself slowing when a particular one caught his attention.

But no matter what he saw on the walls, there was nothing his eyes wanted to settle on more than what was in front of him. Each time his gaze crossed to the other side of the hallway, it would linger a bit longer than it needed to on Zoro’s bulky form. 

Around Zoro’s body, the shirt sat loose enough – fit him just fine – but his arms were much too large for those tiny sleeve holes. With all the heavy equipment he had taken from Sanji, the seams were just barely holding back his biceps. Even from the back, Sanji could see how his skin pulled tight over the muscles, flexing with each of his movements.

He really shouldn’t stare. 

Sanji shook his head and returned to admiring the art. Then a particular oil painting he had noticed earlier struck him as odd. Furrowing his brows, Sanji looked around – wondering if there were more duplicate paintings – only to realize they had just been down this hall! And now that he was thinking about it— they hadn’t even left the top floor!

Not a moment later – and before Sanji could question Zoro’s choice of route – they rounded a corner to approach a pair of elevators Sanji hadn’t seen before. Confused, he gave a quick, sideways glance to Zoro to see if he was pulling his leg—although found him straight-faced. 

On the ride down, Sanji had expected him to crack and laugh about the gag he just pulled, but oddly, his lips remained sealed. Only the sound of the metal lights grating against each other filled the silence between them. Stepping off the lift and coming up to the very studio Sanji had just been in earlier, the two of them stared at the big number three next to the door.

Sanji huffed a quiet laugh. “Why did we take that way?”

“What way?”

Sanji made a swirling motion over his head, pointing to the floors above them. 

“Why did we take that crazy-ass route to get here? I feel like it took longer than the other way.”

“What other way?” Zoro asked, his eyes narrowing.

This time, Sanji snorted and let out a sharp bark of laughter – and quickly noting the lack of Zoro joining in on the joke – he awkwardly let it die out. Sanji quirked an eyebrow, looking up at Zoro with an unconvinced grin. “Yeah, very funny,” he said and nodded his head toward the keypad. “Now stop being a dork and unlock that. This shit’s starting to get heavy.”

Sanji didn’t miss how Zoro’s eyes widened a bit, accompanied by a tinge of pink to the tops of his cheeks. The supposed embarrassment was promptly covered by him clearing his throat with a frown as he pulled out his badge. Sanji wondered what had him so flustered.

When everything was properly put away exactly as Sanji had found it, the two of them headed for the elevator – the nearest one this time – to make their way below ground to the parking garage. Once the door was closed, Sanji was left staring at their reflections in the metal. To avoid any sort of awkward eye contact, Sanji looked at his feet. The silence of the ride down had Sanji’s mind buzzing. Suddenly feeling a little insane for taking up the offer, he wiped his hands over his pants with nervousness.

What was he thinking?!

‘Going for drinks.’

What if Zoro got the wrong idea again? Another misunderstanding?

Using the first excuse he could think of, Sanji piped up with, “Where exactly is the bar at? I brought my bike.”

Sanji turned his head just enough to see Zoro, who kept his gaze on the decreasing number of floors, his hands politely in his pockets.

“Can just have it taken to your place,” he suggested, and pulled out his phone.

“Like a delivery?” Sanji asked as Zoro quickly thumbed over his phone. “What, gonna have that cute, little, pink-haired kid bring it to my apartment?”

Without looking up, Zoro smirked. “Yes, I’m gonna have that cute, little, pink-haired kid bring it to your apartment. What compartment was it in?”

Sanji blinked a few times as he tried to understand what Zoro was asking. Then he remembered there was a number over the key that dispensed each time he had locked it up. Bringing it out and twisting it around, Sanji read the string of numbers off to Zoro and watched him type it into his phone before pocketing it.

“And that’s it?”

“That’s it,” Zoro said.

His tone wasn’t smug or arrogant. And his behavior was… reserved. In fact, he had been quite respectful the whole day, now that Sanji was thinking about it.

Out of the corner of his eye, Sanji continued to look Zoro over, taking in his relaxed posture and cool aura. They were alone and yet he was keeping his hands to himself – even an appropriate distance between them – and hadn’t come onto him once.

Sanji sighed and turned to see the floor numbers change to B1 and felt the elevator come to a stop. The moment the doors opened, Sanji pulled out the metal casing from his back pocket for a cigarillo. As he lit up, he saw Zoro slipping his phone from his pocket once again. 

“This way,” he mumbled without looking away from his screen. Wordlessly, Sanji followed, pulling on the straps of his backpack and hiking it up higher.

It only took a few minutes, about enough time for Sanji to suck down half his cig, before they rounded a corner where he could see a line of supercars. Sanji slowed down, realizing how flashy and expensive they looked, each one more fancy than the last. Zoro was still nose to phone, unaware Sanji was no longer beside him. 

Suddenly, Zoro looked up as they arrived. “Alright, hop in,” he said as he turned back to him, tilting his head toward the chosen car.

It was black and entirely made up of sharp edges and angry angles, all designed to give the illusion it was faster than it really was—and Sanji knew this car was already really fast. The sleek curves over the wheel seamlessly blended into the driver’s door and beyond to the back where a thick spoiler jutted off the end. It sat low to the ground and didn’t have rear seating, unnecessary for this type of toy.

Sanji frowned at such a familiar sight of a sports car. Anxiously, he leaned his weight onto one leg as he wavered over the predicament he had just willingly fallen into. The movement changed his view of the car and he saw how the paint melted from black to a deep, midnight blue. Sanji switched to the other foot and the color changed with him, morphing its gradient into a brilliant purple as if the paint were liquid.

Albeit gorgeous and something Sanji had never seen in person before, it still didn’t sit right with him. He didn’t know what he should have expected, but the reality of the situation, the person he was going to spend his evening with, was sinking in—and sinking quickly. 

“Uhm…” Sanji had come to a complete stop now, still quite a ways from the car. Zoro turned to him. “Yeah, this is…” he started but cut himself off with laughter, clutching his stomach as his nerves got the better of him. 

How Sanji thought this was a good idea was beyond him. Zoro was a billionaire! A man who lived the life of the rich and the famous. And although it wasn’t as extravagant as Zoro’s, it was still a life Sanji had left. He wouldn’t be caught dead in something as ostentatious as the car parked in front of him.

Internally, Sanji winced at his own choice of words. 

“Hm?” Looking confused, Zoro arched a brow at him. 

Deciding to be blunt, Sanji put his hands out in front of him and shook his head. “There is no way I’m getting in that thing.” 

“The car?” Zoro asked skeptically, half turning to see where Sanji was looking. “...why?”  

Taking a long, dramatic drag off his cigarillo, Sanji blew smoke out as he cracked his neck from side to side to try and play it cool. With a roll of his shoulders, Sanji looked to the CEO, stuck his nose up with a curl of his lip, and said, “Because it’s ugly.”

Immediately, Zoro’s face fell flat as he waited for Sanji to laugh off his absurd reasoning, but Sanji wouldn’t budge.

“Okaaay,” Zoro said sarcastically and gestured down the long line of the other cars. “Pick one, then.”

“I don’t think you’re quite understanding.” Sanji finished off the last of his cig and twisted it out on the bottom of his shoe while he clarified, “They’re all ugly.”

Zoro must have realized the game Sanji was playing because he surely wasn’t rising to the obvious bait. Rolling his eyes, Zoro simply said, “Whatever, just get in.”

Sanji rolled his eyes back in a very adult manner. “Fine—but I’m keying it to make myself feel better.” 

As he pushed past a smiling Zoro, most likely smug from Sanji’s cave, Sanji dropped his bag and pulled out his house keys to get one ready. Maybe a crude drawing across the driver’s door would be fitting but carving ‘SANJI WAS HERE’ seemed funnier. 

Behind him, Sanji heard Zoro suddenly tripping over his feet to get to him. 

“Oi!”

Sanji bent at the waist – ignoring him – to get nice and close. The warped image of Zoro quickly coming up behind him in the car’s shiny, iridescent paint had Sanji breaking into a devilish grin. Just as he brought the key to the surface, ready to make contact, he was stopped—quite aggressively so. 

One of Zoro’s hands tightly gripped the wrist with the key in it to yank above his head, the other wrapped around his middle to hold him back. It was bordering on painful. 

Nose pressed into his hair, Zoro’s mouth was at his ear. Through gritted teeth, he growled, “The hell do you think you’re doin’?”

Sanji didn’t answer.

Heart thumping against his chest, he felt frozen in the moment, shocked in place by the overpowering manhandling. He tried pushing off of Zoro the best he could and slowly turned his head to narrow his eyes. Zoro lowered Sanji’s arm but didn’t release him. 

“What’re you afraid of?” Sanji snapped. “Just buy a new one.” 

“I would but they only made six of these. You’re lucky I didn’t bodyslam you into the concrete.” 

Learning how rare the car was made Sanji feel even worse about going along with this. “Oh, boohoo. Now get your mitts off of me.”

“We gonna have a problem if I let go?” Zoro asked, sounding hesitant. When Sanji stayed suspiciously quiet, Zoro’s grip on his wrist returned to something less than friendly, pressing into a pressure point and making Sanji’s fingers almost too weak to hold his keys. 

Their close proximity was extremely awkward. Sans the discomfort, Sanji couldn’t help but notice how intimately Zoro was holding him. He fought down a blush from the radiating body heat blanketing him and tried ignoring the delicious feeling of his body pressed so tightly against his. To avoid being noticed, Sanji thrust his legs out for Zoro to support all of his weight. 

“I kicked your dick, think I won’t do the same to this piece of shit?!”

As Sanji’s feet flailed about, Zoro scooped him up, bodily turning them away to prevent any damage to his car. His massive frame curled over Sanji, keeping him in a solid bear hug. Sanji’s struggle was useless.

Voice icy with animosity, Zoro said, “I don’t care if you kick me—that I’ll tolerate. But no one touches my shit.”

“I don’t give a fuck!” Sanji shrieked. He wiggled again in a poor attempt to get away. “Put me down!”

Surprisingly, Zoro did just that—albeit staying between him and his car, acting as a shield. The moment he was released, Sanji straightened and smoothed his shirt back down. He turned around – correcting his hair back into place – to glare daggers at Zoro for grabbing him like he did. Maybe Sanji was exaggerating his distaste for extravagant possessions, but he certainly wouldn’t be admitting to such a thing. 

With a look of incredulity, Zoro’s eyebrows were at his hairline as he breathed out a long, exhausted sigh. He brought his hand up to scrub over his face, sliding it down until it lingered over his chin. “Who the hell even keys a car, anyway?” he mumbled.

Offended at the tone he was using, Sanji launched himself forward. Zoro’s eyes widened from the sudden attack but he still seemed prepared as he brought his hands up in case Sanji tried blowing past him. But Sanji wasn’t interested in the car anymore.

Snarling into Zoro’s face, Sanji gripped his shirt and yelled, “I do! And I also key faces!”

Zoro smiled, unaffected by Sanji’s hostility. Sanji tried searching for what was so funny, though he didn’t have to wait long. Zoro’s eyes dropped to his lips for half a second before he looked to Sanji’s hands twisted into the soft fabric of his shirt—reminiscent of the first time they’d met.

“You just can’t keep your hands off me, can you?”

Sanji’s jaw dropped, but promptly snapped closed to bare his teeth. “Stop talking or these hands are gonna wrap around your neck next!”

“Oooh~ sounds fun,” Zoro lightly chuckled, appearing the least bit threatened. He lifted his hands to rest over Sanji’s, grabbing one to move it up toward his neck. Sanji crinkled his face, not liking where this was going. With a low, suggestive purr, Zoro said, “Why don’t you show me how it’s done?”

The very audacity of the invitation made Sanji’s back bristle with a rigid jolt. Without thinking, he ripped his hand out from under Zoro’s and folded his fingers to deliver a swift jab of his knuckles straight into the center of Zoro’s trachea.

Instantaneously, Sanji was pushed away by the force of Zoro bending over to grab his throat—a throttled gag escaping followed by a gasping of breath as he stumbled in place.

“Yeah – ” Zoro choked out through a cough. His voice was raspy. “Fair enough.”

When he finally managed to stand up straight, Sanji braced himself for the retaliation. Zoro was much bigger than him and he knew one good punch aimed just right could put him out cold. Sanji shivered for the fight and his body buzzed with anticipation. Sending a playful smile Zoro’s way, Sanji slightly tilted his head to the side and gloated in his victory as he waited for the CEO’s next move. 

Zoro looked entirely unsurprised by Sanji’s brash behavior. Rubbing over his Adam’s apple to soothe the sting, he shook his head and cleared his throat to speak. “M’gonna take that as a ‘no’, then.”

Sanji’s smile faded. “Huh?” Zoro thumbed over his shoulder toward the car, all his earlier enthusiasm gone. “Oh… right.”

Even after the hit, Zoro… was still interested in hanging out? 

Scratching at the back of his head, Sanji looked away, now a little embarrassed of himself. He cringed knowing he wasn’t being entirely fair to Zoro. All day, he had been nothing but polite to him, giving him his space just as he had insisted from the knee to the balls.

Yet Sanji was being overly obnoxious in return.

There were a lot of prickish things about Zoro, but he wasn’t so bad. It was then he remembered something Nami had said to him; making sure he knew that even though Zoro was a massive asshole, he was still a nice guy. Apparently, he should take this as a lesson learned to listen to Nami when she spoke because she was completely right.

The suggested drinks were said to make up for Zoro’s behavior, Sanji thought it more appropriate they were to make up for his own childish reactions. 

Returning his gaze to Zoro, Sanji gave him a sheepish smile—one that he hoped said he was sorry. Zoro looked on the verge of leaving him there in the parking garage, and Sanji wouldn’t even have the fight to stop him since he rightfully deserved it.

It wouldn’t hurt to spend a few hours with the guy. Sanji figured – at the very least – he could pick up Zoro’s tab—a small gesture to call it even between them. 

Bending to grab his backpack, Sanji swung it over a shoulder and gripped the strap tight, confident in his final decision. 

“No, I’ll come along.”

~

A distinct smell of burning rubber accompanied the horrendous squealing of the tires as Zoro drifted the car out of parkade with a skillful hand on the wheel and a devilish smirk on his face. He normally wouldn’t be this careless, but it was to prove a point—especially after the photographer’s brazen attempts to disfigure it. Something he was still appalled had even been attempted; he’d known Sanji liked to instigate, but hadn’t realized how much.

Sights flicking over to the photographer, he’d manage to beguile into the passenger seat, Zoro had to refrain from outright cackling at how distressed Sanji was over a bit of fast driving. One hand was braced on the dash while the other had taken up permanent residence wedged securely against the car’s ceiling. Eyes wide and teeth gritted – for once, not out of anger – Sanji appeared to be preparing for a crash with how poised he currently was—even his legs were straining from where they dug insistently into the floor.

Zoro bit his cheek on an enamored chuckle.

A few more unnecessarily sharp turns had them soon out of the underground lots and on the bustling streets of Abustele. Cars, lights, and pedestrians forcing Zoro to slow down drastically, following a much more reasonable pace set by the functionable flow of traffic. Once out on the road, Sanji relaxed remarkably, but only just—it was clear that any time Zoro sped up or made a sudden motion with the car, the photographer was subtly bracing for impact. After doing it a few more times as pay back, Zoro decided to release the photographer from his torture; easing back into his seat – hand propped lazily on the wheel – Zoro punched in the coordinates for the bar he’d liked to frequent, and then allowed the auto-nav to do most of the work from there.

“You don’t like driving, or something?” Zoro chuckled.

Sanji was tense, before gritting, “Or something.”

Allowing his gaze to drift from the road for only a moment, Zoro inspected the fretting photographer – the bohemian attire, a penchant for biking, his quaint, yet vintage profession, even the bowties – Zoro began to feel a lot of little pieces starting to fall into place; he wouldn’t be surprised if the photographer only ate organic food and had special herbal oils for his beard.

“Alright,” Zoro smiled around the word. “I get it.”

“Get what? ”

Sanji snarled out the question with venomous savagery.

“Nothing.” It was difficult to keep the teasing tone from his voice – there was no point irritating the photographer further – but Zoro managed with a polite shake of his head and a reassuring chuckle, “I’ll go slow.”

“Somehow, I feel you’re incapable.”

Despite the awful temptation, Zoro bit his cheek again on an inappropriate comment—they’d been managing to get along fairly well the rest of the day and he knew now was definitely not the time to goad the photographer. He focused on the road instead. Letting Sanji sit through the rest of the journey phenomenally disgruntled, but remarkably silent before arriving at their destination.

Pulling the car smoothly into a free spot on the main thoroughfare, Zoro killed the engine and then allowed Sanji a few moments to relax before sending him a sideways look. Sanji glanced around to take in their surroundings. A flicker of surprise on his face once he recognized the area – then the bar – before rounding on Zoro a tad incredulous.

“Wild Cherry?”

Arching a brow, Zoro asked, “You know it?”

“Yeah—my friend and I have spent way too much time playing darts here.” A fond, reminiscent smile lit up the photographer’s face – sparked by a memory – before it fell away to be replaced by confusion as he rounded on Zoro; he threw a hand towards the window to gesture at the bar plaintively, “But I live around here! Why do you know this place?!”

Caught momentarily by the saccharine nature of the photographer’s unguarded smile, Zoro blinked once before recovering with a quick shake of his head to clear his thoughts.

“I went to college down the street,” Zoro explained with a vague gesture out the windshield, “this was the closest bar that we could stumble back from.”

Sanji stared for a moment.

Jerking his thumb over his shoulder – gesturing down the street in the opposite direction – Sanji seemed only a touch curious when he broached, “You mean, KUTF?”

“Yeah, that’s the one,” Zoro carefully avoided eye contact.

Having been caught for the second time that day in terms of his poor sense of direction, Zoro played it off with a vague nod and a faint hope that the photographer hadn’t caught on yet to his condition. He flicked open the center console in an attempt to change the subject. Snagging a black ball cap he kept there and pulling it on with a jerk, Zoro then glanced up to the photographer with an expectant look.

“Ready?”

“I think it’s safe to say there won’t be any sun inside,” Sanji drawled.

“Precaution,” Zoro smirked while effortlessly ignoring the judgemental flicker of Sanji’s eyes and the snide curl of his lip. He pointed absently at his head, “Hair’s a bit of a giveaway.”

Nodding slowly in understanding, Sanji paused before allowing a smarmy expression to crook his smile, “Could just, yanno, not dye it. Might help.” Sanji followed the condescending comment with a coy shrug and bright smile. Eyes closing when he simpered, “Just a suggestion.”

“I could ,” Zoro scoffed, but his tone implied he had no such intentions—ending the moronic line of questioning by clamoring out of the car.

Sanji followed suit.

Their eyes met across the top of the vehicle as they each closed their respective doors, but Sanji still seemed like he had something he wanted to say. Zoro didn’t need to ask to know. Instead, he opted for a bit of playful goading.

“But I like it.” A jeer accompanying his teasing words, “Don’t you do things just ‘cause ya wanna?”

Holding Zoro’s gaze for a brief pause, Sanji’s eyes then narrowed imperceptibly—he seemed to be wavering on whether or not to rise to the bait. That taunting implication the photographer was just a stick in the mud. However, Sanji calmed before gifting Zoro with a dismissive smirk and a heated look that inferred all kinds of things—things that were clear from his expression he had no intention of sharing.

“Sometimes,” Sanji purred.

Zoro returned the smirk.

Locking the car absently – shoving the fob into his back pocket – Zoro made his way towards the pub without a backwards glance to the fickle photographer; fully intending to allow Sanji to follow at his own pace. He was far beyond trying to coax the temperamental hurricane into anything at this point. However, a scrupulously hidden grin worked its way onto Zoro’s face when he heard the photographer following without word or complaint a second later.

Through the decently heavy, hardwood door – which he held open for the photographer – Zoro cast a glance about the humble bar and let out a happy sigh. He enjoyed this place. Not only because of the fond memories of weekends spent here in his youth getting drunk, but because over the years – while some things had inevitably changed – it still remained a simple, but inviting space.

One side of the room housed a large bartop that ran wall to wall that allowed for dozens of people to take up residence; whether it be watching a game on several of the televisions behind the bar or just by yourself while enjoying a drink. It never got overly rowdy here, but the bartop had seen its fair share of abuse. Hardwood counter riddled with tiny imperfections from everything from stains to gouges—whether from broken glass or a knife. Even the tamest bar had its stories.

An impressive display of liquor bottles on the shelves behind were appropriately highlighted by some well-placed spotlights. Allowing the more vibrantly colored bottles and liquors to glow radiantly—adding their own ambiance to the place. Above the bartop were rows of haphazardly hung vintage edison bulbs of varying sizes and shapes—their inconsistency a pattern in and of itself. They showered the bar in a wonderful array of light, but not so much as to ruin the atmosphere the bar had cultivated.

Opposite the bar sat several rows of appropriately spaced booths that were a bit better illuminated for the people that came by for an actual meal rather than just a drink. It appeared that the old black leather had been recently refurbished. However, the tables still remained with just as much character as the bar.

It was still fairly early on a Friday so they had the bar mostly to themselves except for a couple in one of the booths enjoying a meal, and some younger men at the back playing a round of pool—likely students. There were two more empty tables, as well as several dartboards currently unused. No doubt in a few hours though this place would be decently crowded.

Normally, Zoro liked to sit near the end of the bar—it allowed him to remain relatively unnoticed while also within direct access to the liquor, but this time he had company. And he was learning that the happier the photographer was, the less flack he had to deal with. Deciding on letting Sanji make the call between the bar or a more luxurious booth, Zoro turned to the photographer with an easy smile that had him stopping in his tracks.

Jerking his thumb towards the bar while inclining his head towards a nearby booth, Zoro grunted, “Pick.”

Sanji stared at him.

A blink—then a deadpan drawl, “How gracious of you,” before stepping towards the bar.

Zoro followed—rolling his eyes.

Flagging down the barkeep – a burly man who did nothing more than give a polite nod in greeting – Zoro waved for his usual before glancing at Sanji expectantly who was still taking a seat on the barstool while carefully placing his camera bag on the bartop between them—it wasn’t lost on Zoro that Sanji was clearly paranoid about it getting stolen. He was also very meticulous about making sure there was absolutely no liquor on the hardwood before setting it down. Again, Zoro found himself fighting a smile at how much the photographer appeared to genuinely care about his passion—it was remarkably refreshing given his typical interactions at work.

Zoro gifted the photographer an expectant look.

Blinking once more before glancing at the barkeep, Sanji raised two fingers before ordering easily, “Two shots; silver tequila—make ‘em a double.”

Their drinks were prepared right in front of them; Zoro’s old-fashioned poured and handed off, and then Sanji’s shots portioned out free-hand, but with the skill and expertise of a man that had spent his whole life behind a bar. He didn’t even spill a drop. By the time the bottle of liquor had been returned to the shelf, Sanji had already finished slamming back the second shot and had politely stacked the glasses before raising another hand—politely.

“Mojito,” Sanji ordered, “Double too, please.”

Once more, the barkeep prepared it with an effortless finesse—handing it off a minute later.

“Thanks,” Sanji nodded graciously. Taking up his drink in an elegant hand while gesturing to Zoro in a much more brazen manner, “And put his first two drinks on my tab.”

A nod from the barkeep was all that was given before wandering off to attend to a few new patrons that had entered the pub. Zoro waited until he was out of earshot. Then turned a pointed stare at the photographer until he inevitably got his attention.

“What?” Sanji scoffed.

Arching a brow, Zoro jeered, “Paying for my drinks?”

“Well, in the words of some dickhead I know,” Sanji smirked, but despite his bravado there was a bashfulness clinging to his words, “consider it ‘my way of making up for my behavior’?”

“Which time?” Zoro chuckled, “The dick, the interview, or the throat?”

Surprisingly, that earned a bark of laughter from the stingy photographer before managing with a guilty chuckle, “I meant for the throat-chop, but yeah… definitely all three.”

Laughter tapering off into a comfortable silence, they both returned to their drinks. Swilling his with a slow, calculated movement, Zoro watched the amber liquid cascading over the ice cubes and along the walls of the crystalline tumbler—mulling over what to say next. Knowing Sanji’s predisposition for heated overreaction in the wake of simpler commentary, Zoro was incredibly cautious while selecting his next words; as entertaining as the whole ordeal had been, Zoro didn’t want to aggravate the photographer.

Zoro moved to take a sip.

“So.”

Murmuring the word against the rim of his drink, Zoro flicked a glance out of the corner of his eye to gauge the photographer’s reaction and found him having just finished downing an impressive portion of his cocktail. Zoro inclined his drink—enjoying the subtlety of the whiskey. Setting his glass down with a distinct clink on the old, hardwood bar top, Zoro turned to find Sanji had turned towards him a bit; much calmer than earlier—affable, even.

It seemed the liquor had helped.

Deciding it would be best to not mention the photographer’s familial name, Zoro kept his question safely broad. Turning fully to the photographer this time while asking, “You deal with a lot of people like that in this line of work?”

“Ugh, you mean the journalist?”

Grimacing at the very mention of the reporter – nose wrinkling like he’d just sniffed something foul – Sanji turned back to his drink with a heavy sigh and let a bit of his carefully crafted facade crumble. A weariness slumping his shoulders. Lifting his drink, Sanji took another hefty swig before admitting with a defeated murmur, “Yeah, unfortunately.”

Zoro watched almost in awe at this different side to the photographer.

Beyond the obviously touchy subject of his family, Sanji clearly had other things to contend with when it came to people in the industry—even Zoro had noticed the more nasty implications on the reporter’s part when it came to Sanji’s importance. Zoro didn’t like photographers – mostly because they followed him around like a swarm of gnats – but he never devalued their expertise. And yet, it appeared he’d been completely ignorant when it came to Sanji’s profession—Zoro could admit he felt a touch ashamed with how he conducted himself.

Taking a long pull on his drink, Zoro then set it down and looked back to the photographer at his side preoccupied with his own drink before making a decision. Zoro slid his drink a little bit further on the bar—a glowing streak of condensation left in its wake. Crossing his arms on the bartop, Zoro kept his gaze pointedly on Sanji to prove his undivided attention before speaking.

“Tell me about it.”

Sanji glanced over—surprised.

All Zoro did was goad him with an expectant look.

As with so many other times that they had conversed, Sanji watched him like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop—certainly debating whether or not to engage. He stared for a long time. Eventually cracking a smile – surprisingly soft – before leaning in with a divulging look.

~

The loudest people in the small pub were Zoro and Sanji, even after the night crowd had begun to trickle in. They sat at the bar top howling at the ceiling as Sanji divulged story after story of the horrendous people he’d had the misfortune of dealing with—Zoro sharing some of his own. It had been hours since they arrived, both getting looser and looser from the alcohol as the night went on, making their stories that much funnier. 

“And then when he got on the swing–” Sanji said, choking on a laugh. “–he fuckin–” Sanji covered his face to hide how hard he was laughing, whole body shaking. Little tears formed at the corners of his eyes and fell as he squeezed them shut. Zoro chuckled next to him, patiently waiting for him to get the rest out. “He immediately fuckin’ slipped off and landed on his face!” 

Letting out a burst of laughter, Zoro quickly set his whiskey down before he spilled it. “What?! How!? How do you fall off a swing!”

“I know!” Sanji said, voice going higher as he started giggling again. “We spent the next ten minutes dusting him off and fixing him up. I don’t know why it was so hard for him!”

“Sounds like an idiot,” Zoro said, tilting back the rest of his drink. He flicked his head to the bartender for another. 

Sanji wiped away the tears, collecting himself. “Yeah, he was def an idiot.”

Zoro glanced down where Sanji had reached out to play with the strap of his camera, absentmindedly thumbing over the canvas texture. After taking a sip of his new drink, Zoro inclined his head at it. “You take that everywhere with you?”

Looking at his camera with a fond smile, Sanji let out a sigh, still coming down from his high. “Yeah, I do,” he said and pulled it toward him. “Any good photographer would.”

Zoro cocked his head. “Doesn’t a photographer have to be good with people?”

“They should, yeah,” Sanji answered. The question itself would have normally sounded offensive, though Zoro’s genuine curiosity smoothed over how rude it would have come off if Sanji didn’t currently have a belly full of alcohol. “But most people are detestable cunts—as you witnessed earlier.”

“So you take photos of people for a living… ‘cause that makes sense.”

Now it seemed as if Zoro was poking fun at him. The smile faded, replaced by mild irritation. Sanji sat forward. “There are different kinds of photographers, you idiot.” He started listing different gigs with an annoyed huff. “All the money is in portraits, weddings, birthdays, and all those other shitty celebrations.”

“Ah,” Zoro said, seemingly starting to understand where Sanji was going. Quickly finishing his drink, another was placed in front of him before he had a chance to ask. Zoro continued on. “Not your thing, I take it?”

Sanji shook his head and pulled out his cigarette tin, flicking one out and lighting up. Zoro declined when one was offered to him. “Fuckin’ hate people — so hard to work with.” He took a long drag and as he spoke, smoke billowed out around them. “Don’t hire me if you aren’t willing to do what I ask of you to get the shot you want. I’m a fucking professional, listen to me!” 

Casually shrugging with a smirk, Zoro took a drink and said, “Ever considered you suck at giving directions?”

Sanji’s jaw dropped while he processed that.

“Ever considered you suck at taking them?” he snapped. A few more puffs on his cigarillo helped keep his attitude in check. Blowing up toward the ceiling and surrounding them in a lush, red wine redolence, he took his time to fully absorb the nicotine. He waited for Zoro’s comeback, but was instead met with a look of chagrin. “Yeah, that’s what I thought, dickweed.”

“Okay, fine,” Zoro mumbled into his cup in a poor attempt to hide how flustered he was. “What would you rather be doing, then?”

Waving to the bartender to get another drink for himself, Sanji slid his empty glass away, watching it leave a wet trail behind. He yanked a nearby ashtray toward him and set his cig down. Humming in thought, he tapped his fingers against the wood as he considered Zoro’s question.

Leaning over the bartop and sinking his chin into his arm, Sanji gave Zoro a shy smile. 

“Ever hear of All Blue?”

Recognition flashed across Zoro’s face. “The Pale Blue Dot magazine?” he asked, and Sanji couldn’t stop his smile from widening. He nodded. “Yeah, we’ve been a funding partner for them for a couple of years now. Why?”

Sanji tried to hide his excitement about Zoro’s connections. He briefly wondered who he had come in contact with; if he ever met any of the photographers or if he knew any of their work. It was more likely he only knew the business half, which was less exciting, so he didn’t pry. 

Sitting back up, Sanji flicked his ash and took another long pull from his cigarillo. How to answer such a large question such as ‘why?’ There were a million things he could say about the magazine—but where to start when the person who had asked wouldn’t even begin to understand how important it was to Sanji?

Giving a breathy chuckle, Sanji started with, “Well, for one, humans are forbidden in any shot—so that’s a plus.” He turned away, suddenly feeling foolish for the words he was about to say, the alcohol letting them slip out anyway. “But really—the world is gorgeous, don’t you think? There are so many things we have never seen–” stopping, he smirked and restated. “Most of us have never seen. It’s beautiful all on its own, no need for special lighting or makeup… it just is, and it’s enough.”

Sanji could feel Zoro’s gaze on him. “And you’d rather do something like that?” Sanji nodded, looking at him again. They stared at each other for a moment until Zoro finally said, “Why don’t you do that, then? If that’s what you really want.”

It was what he really wanted, but it also wasn’t an active choice he was making to not pursue it. “It’s not that easy. I have to do what pays – and sadly – focus on something more realistic for myself.” Sanji thanked the bartender when his drink arrived and took a sip, staring ahead. “But!” he said, trying not to dwell on things he couldn’t help, and picked up his camera to start fiddling with it in his lap. “I bike to parks and shit. Still see some pretty amazing places right here in Abustele. Can’t stop me from doing what I love.” He took a picture of the bartender at the other end of the counter and reviewed it, fixing the settings. 

He’d never stop doing what he loved.

Zoro was quiet but he nodded in acknowledgment. As he lifted his whiskey, he froze midway, and Sanji could see he was inspecting his camera, the SMILE logo facing his way. With a frown, he gestured his glass toward it and said, “You know that’s a knockoff, right?”

“Yeah, I do know,” Sanji snapped, setting his camera back down. “And I’ll knock you off that fuckin’ bar stool if you badger me any more about it.” He heard enough from Usopp, he didn’t need to be heckled by this bastard, too.

Shrugging, Zoro ignored his threat and heckled him anyway, his voice flat but clearly displeased. “If you knew that, then you must also know they use out-sourced prison labor to assemble them?”

Oh. 

Sanji bit his lip knowing he lost that argument. 

It would surely explain why it was cheaper…

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, dickweed,” Zoro mocked, throwing his own words back at him. He slid off his hat and tossed it to the opposite side of him, returning with a flat expression to emphasize the severity of the horrible company Sanji was inadvertently supporting. 

Sanji took a puff of his cigarillo for something to do.

Thinking over the course of the day, that feeling of Zoro being not exactly who he originally thought him to be started to creep up on him again. Under the misapprehension, Sanji had misjudged Zoro completely—one of the few things Sanji didn’t mind being proved wrong about. It made more sense for Usopp to idolize a man like this than the guy who forcefully kissed Sanji in his office. This guy seemed to care about more than just money in his bank account. He seemed to care about people, remembering they were human. 

The conversation had died off and Sanji took this time to observe the CEO. While he had been preoccupied in his own mind, Zoro had turned on the stool to face the wall again. He rested his arms on the counter to inspect the endless shelves of liquor before them. 

Right now, he looked good. Content.

Zoro propped an elbow atop the bar, whiskey dangling from one hand while he twirled the ice around a few times. He stared at it for a moment before taking a drink, then set it back down. Droplets of condensation slowly trickled down the glass, pooling at the base. The smoke from Sanji’s cigarillo lazily curled around him, dimly lit by the dull, orange lamp above.

Actually, he looked really good… and Sanji couldn’t help himself.

Careful to not alert Zoro of what he was about to do, Sanji lifted his camera again, making minimal movement. Quietly turning it back on and bringing him into focus, Sanji waited until a twist of smoke caressed his profile just right —and snapped the shutter.

Startled by the sound, Zoro looked over, his expression unreadable. “You gonna do that all the time, then?”

Looking smug, Sanji flashed a wide smile his way and said, “Yes—at least until next week. Then it’s on to the next job.” 

The smile fell from Sanji’s face, turning a little more serious by furrowing his brows. He stared down at the LED screen for a quick preview of the photo – a longing ache to look at the details closer – and turned it off to set aside.

“You’re an idiot for paying me as much as you did, you know,” Sanji said abruptly. At this, Zoro nodded in agreement. “Seriously, why did you do that?”

Zoro shrugged. “Dunno. Got your attention, though, didn’t it?”

“I think it would have gotten just about anyone’s attention. But that doesn’t explain why.”

Turning to look at Sanji again, Zoro smiled. “I needed a number you couldn’t refuse.”

Which, in all honesty, was a good strategy. Convinced it was a scam, Sanji biked down to Santoryu Tech anyway to see if he could find out what the hell was going on. Whether he accepted the job or not, it did get him right where Zoro wanted him. 

“Yeah, but…” Sanji wrinkled his face trying to understand. “For what? To get me to sleep with you? Get a fucking escort if you want to get laid so badly, cause you can’t pay me to have sex with you.”

“The money was for the job ,” Zoro said, bodily turning to face Sanji now. “Was only counting on the sex to follow afterward.”

“And how did that work out for you?” Sanji snapped. Crossing a leg over his knee, Sanji narrowed his eyes. “Couldn’t have just asked me out like a normal person?”

Zoro reached for his glass and propped his elbow on the countertop, side-eying Sanji. “I didn’t wanna ‘ask you out’,” Zoro said, emphasizing the last part with a sultry smirk, leaving Sanji no room to misinterpret his intentions.

Sanji waved his hand about as if Zoro were a nuisance. “I get in your face and cuss you out—that sealed the deal for you?”

Zoro tilted his head, smiling wide enough his dimple indented, and winked. “And you’re hot.”

Grimacing, Sanji clicked his tongue. Mulling over Zoro’s stupid motivation, Sanji sucked on his straw until there was nothing left but ice. “So you go around hiring people to insult you cause it gets you off, got it.” He set the glass down and smiled. “Or was it me in particular you wanted heckling you in a jester hat?”

Zoro chuckled, “I bet you’d look good in it.”

“Seems like a dumb reason.”

“I can’t be interested for no reason?”

“You could get anyone–”

“Not you— apparently .”

“–but you chose the one person who fights you every step of the way.”

Zoro laughed and Sanji couldn’t help but smile, too. After tilting his whiskey in a toast to himself, he confidently said, “You’re here, ain’t ya?

“So you did hire me to fuck me!” Sanji said, sitting forward and pointing an accusatory finger at the other.

“Well, yeah…. but you had a stellar portfolio—also because you’re not a suck-up; which I appreciate, by the way.”

Sanji still didn’t quite understand Zoro’s attraction to him, all the name-calling and constant jabs at each other—and the copious amount of assault, of course, couldn’t forget that. But it seemed to be a genuine misunderstanding on his part, something he apologized for and corrected his behavior… where was the harm in giving in to his own temptations as well?

Because Zoro was fucking smokin’. Anyone with eyes could see that. And if he wasn’t a whole asshole… and it was just sex...

“Hey,” Sanji said and leaned over, swiping the key fob hanging from Zoro’s back pocket. Zoro watched him like a hawk as he spun the keyring around his finger in the air. Lining his top lip with his tongue, he said, “How about you ask me again?”

Zoro’s devilish grin no doubt matched his own. Looking him up and down, he thrust his hand out to snatch his keys, locking Sanji’s fist in his own. Slowly, he leaned in closer so only Sanji could hear his next words.

“Wanna fuck in my car?”

~

Hand clasped around their lengths, Zoro stroked them together while Sanji thrust his hips in perfect rhythm; guided by the fingers Zoro currently had lubed up and inside him. It was fun having Sanji like this—at his whim. He’d fantasized for days about getting his hands on the feisty photographer and he didn’t disappoint. From the moment they tumbled into the car and started tearing at each other’s clothes, it had been frantic passion.

Between the alcohol – and blistering sexual tension – it didn’t take long before Sanji’s pants had ended up on the floor and Zoro’s shirt found new residence on the dash. Sanji’s hands had fallen to Zoro’s exposed chest. Squeezing the muscle with a pleased hum – exploring greedily – eventually slinking up to slide into green hair.

Hidden behind tinted windows, their writhing bodies were obscured to passersby—Zoro in the driver’s seat with Sanji poised in his lap. Practically climbing Zoro – tangling his hands in his hair to force Zoro where he wanted him – kisses fervent and deep. Unlike their first one, Sanji kissed back eagerly this time, almost hostile—like he was trying to punish him, but Zoro was happy to oblige.

Allowing Sanji his fun as Zoro continued to work his fingers deeper inside Sanji’s tight entrance. Trying his best despite the briefs in the way. Unable to remove them in their earlier scramble due to the ridiculous – yet hot – garters the photographer had worn to keep his shirt in place.

As good as they looked… they needed to go.

Another breathy moan slipped from Sanji as Zoro curled his fingers a final time before removing them—cock leaking impatiently at Sanji’s disappointed whine. He released their lengths. Sanji’s swollen erection slapping heavily against Zoro’s stomach.

“These are cute–”

Teasingly, Zoro hooked a finger under one and snapped it—relishing in the smack it made and the harsh snarl it earned.

“Fucker!”

“–but they’re in the way…”

Slipping his hands up to flick the clasps loose, they were left to dangle from the bands that still clung to Sanji’s thighs while they quickly shimmied the briefs off. Naked except for the green button-up. Climbing back into Zoro’s lap, waiting as Zoro rolled on a condom and proceeded to slick up his length a final time before readying it for Sanji.

One hand holding his length, and the other hooked encouragingly around Sanji’s nape—pulling him down. Thumb stroking the soft, short hair there. A devastatingly cute frown pinching Sanji’s features as he lowered himself further until he was as deep as the seated position would allow.

“Mm.” Zoro hummed his approval, “There ya go, Curly.”

Eyes fluttering in pleasure, Sanji paused to adjust to the feeling of being totally filled. Zoro was mesmerized by those perfect lips parting around a moan. Swallowing his desperation before managing breathily, “Do you ever stop talking?”

Zoro opened his mouth to retort, but then Sanji started moving.

On a sharp inhale, Zoro growled heatedly, doing nothing to hide the arousal punching through him at the sensation of Sanji clenching around him. He’d known it’d be good – ever since spotting him at the wedding – but it was so much more delicious with Sanji’s feistiness. That headstrong attitude ignited something carnal in Zoro.

Lips trailing along Sanji’s jaw, he reveled in the light stubble that tickled his skin and the breathy gasps being panted against his ear. Both of them moving in unison—alcohol forcing them to quickly seek release. Zoro dipped lower to nuzzle into Sanji’s neck – inhale that sharp cigarette smoke and underlying floral aroma – pressing a wanton kiss to the tense line of his throat.

Sanji's breath fluttered, and Zoro snapped—kiss turning possessive as he started to suck a mark into the alabaster skin.

“Ngh, fuck ! No marks.” Grabbing a handful of green hair and wrenching Zoro’s mouth off his neck, Sanji kept up the pace he’d set riding Zoro while leaning down to reprimand him, “I have a job !”

Zoro couldn’t help but laugh—his cock twitched.

There was just something so intoxicating about Sanji; from his brash honesty to the violent confidence and explosive temperament—all of it made Zoro weak. He didn’t like having his hair pulled, but he loved that Sanji had the gall to do it to him anyway. Pin him down and bark orders at him like he was actually in charge—like he had any actual say.

“Fine,” Zoro purred.

Fingers trailing down the line of buttons, Zoro considered dealing with them before impatiently hooking his fingers between and snapping the shirt open with a jerk. Buttons pinged off random surfaces to get lost in the car. Shirt conveniently open, but Sanji was less than impressed, eyes wide as he gasped.

“My—you fuckin’ barbaric asshole!” 

Sanji’s grip in his hair twisted.

A laugh started to bubble up in Zoro’s chest, but was cut short by a choked wheeze as Sanji’s thighs squeezed Zoro’s hips in punishment. Their movements slowed to a stop. Sanji was on the verge of breathing fire down Zoro’s neck while Zoro was still struggling around his breathless laughter—it was too easy to rile him.

“You think that’s fuckin' funny?!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Zoro half-heartedly placated Sanji, “I’ll get you another.”

Tucking his hands inside the open shirt, Zoro trailed them up Sanji’s lean frame with a rough caress—reverent of the gorgeous body. Pale skin and sculpted muscle—lines acute from his labored breaths. A smattering of sporadic beauty spots each warranting a kiss, and dusty pink nipples that ached to be touched.

“That’s not the problem!” Sanji barked.

Zoro ducked down—ignoring him.

Teeth teasing the bud – tongue darting out to lathe over it – before latching his mouth onto the creamy mound of muscle and sucking. Arms coming up to wrap around Sanji’s narrow waist. Pinning them together as Zoro took his time to abuse the man’s chest thoroughly – still buried deep inside him – thriving off the way Sanji twitched under the attention.

A whine tripped from Sanji’s lips—his legs relaxing.

Once Zoro was satisfied with the multiple marks, he released the skin with a sloppy pop and went about adjusting his grip. Keeping one arm around Sanji’s waist to hold him in place while the other snuck up so he could drag his thumb across his lower lip to catch some of the excess saliva—smirking devilishly.

“There.” Zoro purred, “They’ll be hidden.”

Sanji’s frustration was gloriously entertaining.

Lip curling back around a growl, but never actually speaking to his irritation—probably because he’d liked it. Sanji’s stubborn attitude was starting to become predictable. Chuckling to himself, Zoro’s hand slipped under Sanji’s thigh – urging the man into motion again – his groan of approval rumbling in Zoro’s chest.

Shifting lower in the seat and spreading his legs forced Sanji to slide further into his lap. He hit the control to lower his seat back – not much considering there was no back seat – but enough that it allowed him to sprawl a bit more comfortably. A perfect angle to watch Sanji riding him, and catch a glimpse of himself disappearing into that tight heat.

“Hey!” Hand snapping up to grip Zoro’s jaw, Sanji’s tone was just as terse, “I’m not doing all the fucking work here, you spoiled shithead.”

Zoro’s smirk was crushed by Sanji’s grip, but it didn’t stop him from chuckling.

“You are grabby.”

Despite his irritation, Sanji never stopped his movements—fire behind his eyes even as his mouth hung open around desperate moans. Sanji’s grip tightened. Forcing Zoro’s skin against his teeth, and grinding a finger into Zoro’s lower jaw until it made the tendon ache. Pinning Zoro’s head to the seat and leaning his weight into it.

“What—don’t tell me you can’t handle it?” Sanji sneered. “ You invited me —so take some responsibility.”

They stared each other down—Zoro’s blood was racing. He kept a heated eye on Sanji while planting his feet securely, snapping his hips up properly for once. Bouncing the guy off his lap, forcing his head to smack the ceiling of the car, and punching a groan from him.

“You— hngg .” Sanji’s complaint was cut short – a stuttered gasp of pleasure forced out of him – followed by a curt, “Motherfuck–”

Zoro bucked his hips again.

Mirth twisted his lips—enjoying the way Sanji’s mouth had fallen open and he was bracing his hands on Zoro’s chest. Ecstasy melting his features into something beautiful. Weight of his arousal finally getting the better of him as Zoro found that perfect angle and kept thrusting the head of his cock against it.

“Better?”

Sanji’s hands trembled, “You fucking— jerk.”

Biting his lip to stifle his chuckles, Zoro let his eyes fall shut to momentarily focus on Sanji and the feeling of himself sliding in and out of that delicious heat. Hands pinching Sanji’s hips. Anchoring him in place as he jackhammered up into the mouthy photographer to prove a point—making sure to knock his head against the ceiling a few more times for good measure.

Sanji cussed a string of expletives.

After that, Zoro slowed his pace back to something more enjoyable for Sanji, rolling his hips but allowing Sanji to set the pace—meeting him halfway. His eyes fluttered open. Gazing up at Sanji, his grip gentle—thumbs caressing bruised hip bones. Relaxing into their rhythm, Sanji’s hand unfurled to plant on Zoro’s chest and he braced his other arm on the ceiling of the car.

No doubt protecting his head.

“This car is fucking ridiculous—there's no space.” Using the support to help fuck himself down onto Zoro’s thick length, Sanji jeered, “Where do you even fit your groceries?”

“It’s a sports car—it’s for driving fast, Curly.” Digging his fingers into Sanji’s thighs, Zoro hiked Sanji further up his lap while jerking his hips. His grip twitching at Sanji’s breathy gasp. Unable to stop the predatory grin from splitting his face at the sensations of Sanji coming undone—he was close. “It’s not for errands.”

“But it’s for fucking,” Sanji added dryly.

“Maybe.” Hips grinding slowly, Zoro allowed with a playful smirk, “What gave you that idea?”

Sanji rolled his eyes.

“Maybe ‘cause you had lube in the glove compartment.” 

“Came in handy, didn’t it?” Countering Sanji’s point with a chuckle, Zoro’s breathing had gotten heavier as he could feel himself reaching his peak. His hand on Sanji’s thigh slid around. Fingers splaying over Sanji’s stretched entrance – slick with lube – feeling himself disappearing into the man with every smooth thrust—Zoro groaned appreciatively, “You complainin’?”

On a shaky breath Sanji managed, “No.”

There was still some bite to his voice – despite the hooded eyes and slack jaw – he seemed determined to be stubborn to the very end. His riding had shifted from long, seductive rolls to a needy grinding. Keeping Zoro in deep as he rocked down to get that spot inside of him rubbed just right.

It was gorgeous to watch, and felt even better.

Each desperate thrust had Sanji’s leaking cock dragging over Zoro’s stomach leaving a spectacular trail of precum that Zoro wished he could taste—it was tempting, but Sanji’s moans were getting choked. He was starting to tremble. On the edge of his release – chasing it – hardly even paying attention to Zoro anymore.

“Nothing else to add, huh?” Zoro started stroking Sanji’s cock, “Distracted or something?”

Sanji swallowed around a relieved groan.

Eyes long since fallen shut – eyelashes fluttering in ecstasy – Zoro wasn’t even certain if Sanji consciously knew he was nodding. So focused on his pleasure, so overwhelmed, so mindlessly desperate. Willing to agree with anything Zoro said if it meant getting his completion.

Zoro decided to finally give in.

“Hold on—‘t’s not deep enough.”

Wrapping an arm around Sanji’s slender waist, Zoro kept himself pressed deep inside and carefully flipped them over so he could spread Sanji out on the seat. He hooked Sanji’s legs over his shoulders. Thrusting in and folding him in half, stifling his surprise when he got the man’s knees pinned to his chest without complaint, but rather a pleased moan.

Zoro bit down a distressed groan—this guy was going to be the death of him.

Quickly shaking off those thoughts and focusing on getting them the rest of the way, Zoro bore down on the slighter man. Kissing those pink, swollen lips. Hips thrusting into that wet heat. His hand falling to Sanji’s weeping erection and beginning to stroke. Using the better angle to his advantage to properly slam those last few inches into the photographer unimpeded—spurred on by every gorgeous moan that he’d been longing to hear.

~

Sanji could feel Zoro smirking into their shared kiss and he knew it was because of the noises he made— unwillingly let out! Even as Zoro worked him over, he still thought he was better than him, like he had won their unspoken competition. Sanji bit down on Zoro’s bottom lip a little harder than necessary, but it only made him give off another breathy chuckle of amusement. 

“Stop making that shitty face,” Sanji snapped, reaching out to push Zoro away—who leaned sideways, avoiding his hand with a grin. “Just fuck me!”

“Whaddya think I’m doin’?” Zoro asked, giving a sarcastic thrust for emphasis before getting back into pace.

Placing both hands over Zoro’s shoulders, Sanji raked his fingers down to his chest – short nails scratching deep – where he squeezed the muscle. The sting must have been favorable because Zoro smiled through gritted teeth, sucking air between them.

“This all you got, then?” Sanji asked with heavy pants. He could just barely make out Zoro’s eyebrows raising with question. Wanting to get as much as he could from their fling, Sanji tilted his head to the side and sighed. “C’mon, you’re not gonna break me.”

Zoro didn’t need convincing. With a powerful grip Sanji hadn’t fully expected – despite the taunting – Zoro wedged his hands behind Sanji’s knees and repinned them to his chest so hard it forced a lungful of air out. Zoro seemed to like that. 

“Alright~” he purred and roughly fucked into him, causing the sports car to aggressively rock back and forth.

“Shit.” Sanji held onto Zoro’s bicep while the other hand blindly searched for leverage—finding the window only to slip on the built-up condensation. “Shit,” he said again, unable to hold back how unexpectedly good it felt.

With every sharp and perfectly aimed thrust, Sanji heard himself getting louder and louder—and he swore Zoro fed off it. If Sanji had any strength left – or motivation – he’d love nothing more than to kick Zoro upside the head for being so irritating. But all he could do was sluggishly cover his mouth to silence his wanton cries.

“I don’t think so,” Zoro said and ripped Sanji’s hand away by the wrist. 

The unsupported leg fell over the center console but Zoro’s pace never faltered. Sanji wasn’t going to last much longer – already been driven close to the edge before – and now with the harsh treatment, it was taking all of Sanji’s concentration to keep himself conscious. His mind started to drift as it clouded over—too hazy.

With great effort, Sanji managed to look up—seeing Zoro’s blissed-out expression staring down at him. His mouth hung open and his eyes were falling closed as he gave him what he asked for. The way he heavily grunted had Sanji nearing his peak again—it was too much to take in. He was just as lost as he was and it was hot.

Zoro must have sensed how close Sanji was because his free hand wrapped around Sanji’s cock, thumb giving one swipe over the slit where it was dripping, smearing the precum before beginning to jerk him in time with the movement of his hips. At the first stroke, Sanji’s back arched.

“Ahhhn,” he moaned out, electricity shooting through his body, numbing the tips of his toes from the double sensation. He tried telling Zoro, to warn him it was too much. All he was able to achieve was grabbing at Zoro’s forearms – squeezing – hoping it was enough to let him know. 

It only took a few complete strokes for Sanji to come undone. Semen seared his abdomen as it spattered across his front. When Sanji’s vice-like grip loosened, Zoro released him only to surge forward to steal the last sigh of ecstasy escaping his lips in a crushing kiss. 

Now that Sanji’s demands were met, Zoro eased up on his punishing pace to grind himself inside, still grazing over Sanji’s abused prostate. Sanji tried to turn from the kiss to let out another moan of overstimulation, but Zoro chased his mouth to insert his tongue—passing over his flavor of smoked whiskey. Sanji could hear, could feel, Zoro hum with pleasure.

And then Zoro’s grinding halted a beat before turning into lazy pumps, cock pulsing as he came with a stunted groan. He buried his face into Sanji’s neck until his motions gradually stilled. Hot puffs of air tickled over Sanji’s skin with every heavy exhale.

He must have regained his strength because he lifted himself up, leaning his weight on the shoulder of the chair. They stared at each other as they caught their breath, neither looking away as their post-orgasm high wore off and they started coming to their senses. That smug, elitist behavior of Zoro’s reappeared, but Sanji shouldn’t have expected anything different. 

“That do it for ya?”

Sanji chose to ignore him as he still needed a few minutes to recuperate. Zoro pulled the condom off, tied it up, and tossed it to the side. Then he leaned backward, twisting around with a smile on his face to grab his shirt from the dash. He gave a few courtesy wipes to help rid Sanji of his mess, but he only made it worse by smearing it around. Sanji snatched it away to do it himself.

Whipping it back when he was done, Sanji tried sitting up, wincing from the ache of being contorted for so long. Zoro was quick to catch his dirtied shirt before it hit his face, tossing it to the floor of the passenger seat without a second thought. 

Now that his brain was working again, Sanji looked down at himself – still splayed out and exposed – directly facing the CEO of Santoryu Tech. One trembling leg was bent with his heel propped up on Zoro’s thigh, the other stuck straight out and touched the glove compartment, and in between, his dick was beginning to soften.

Sanji attempted to sit up again, finding himself too wobbly from the adrenaline. He collapsed back into the seat, unamusedly glaring at Zoro as the embarrassing thought of admittedly asking for help bubbled up. And by the way Zoro’s smirk turned into a toothy grin, Sanji knew Zoro was aware—knowing full well of the state he left him in.

“I can’t move.”

Zoro chuckled, but Sanji was serious. 

~

Car rolling to a smooth stop outside the address the auto-nav had guided him to, Zoro rested his wrist on the wheel while turning a proud look to the still blitzed-out photographer in his passenger seat. He hadn’t said a word all drive. Shirt hanging open haphazardly, delirious gaze staring out the window, and his lips still parted like he hadn’t quite come to terms with what they’d done.

“This the right place?”

Sanji blinked, then glanced out his window, “Uh, yeah… it is.”

Running a hand through his hair in an attempt to ground himself, the photographer began forcing himself into motion while glancing about the car for his things. At the very least, he’d managed to get his shoes back on. And his pants, but the fly and zipper were still undone.

Zoro watched with some pride as Sanji fumbled to do them up.

When Sanji arched his hips up a bit to better pop the button in place, Zoro was gifted to the sight of the lean stretch of exposed midriff that was just begging to have his mouth on it. He hated there wasn’t enough space in the car to properly undress and explore that body the way he wanted to. Already, he could feel his pants tightening at the thought and realized balefully that once wasn’t nearly enough—he wanted more.

Throwing the car into park and resting his elbow on the back of his seat, Zoro turned to properly face the photographer. Sanji had just finished fiddling with his shirt. Gaze turning to Zoro – immediately souring upon finding Zoro staring – Sanji’s lips tightened and his eyes narrowed.

“Stop staring , idiot.”

Smirking at Sanji’s continued irritation, Zoro cataloged the information for later as a way to get the photographer nice and riled. He liked that it took minimal effort to get Sanji to bare his teeth. Not that he wanted to make Sanji mad, but he was growing particularly possessive over having that passion pointed primarily in his direction.

Arm slipping off its perch on the seat back, Zoro held himself over the photographer by a grip on the steering wheel while his other hand tracked up to crook underneath Sanji’s chin. Barely a nudge to make him look up. Surprisingly wide-eyed and compliant for his previous shouting as Zoro leaned in the last few inches to slant his lips over Sanji’s.

A sharp inhale accompanied Sanji stiffening. Frighteningly familiar to the first time he had kissed the photographer – tensing from a kiss before subsequently obliterating Zoro’s dick – caused Zoro to wait cautiously for Sanji’s decision, before being granted his answer in the form of Sanji melting into him. Mouth parting and hands skirting up to cradle Zoro’s face.

They collided with a similar energy to when they’d first emerged from the bar full of adrenaline and giddy excitement over what was to come. Sanji shoving Zoro up against the car before kissing him. Hands tangled in Zoro’s shirt with the white rum from his drink staining his mouth something fierce—even now, Zoro could still make out the taste.

Tongue going in for a final flick before they parted, but still remained intimately close. Zoro’s eyes opened first. Watching with thrilling arousal at the way Sanji’s chin tilted up to chase after Zoro’s lips—silently begging for more.

Zoro smirked, “Round two?”

Blue eyes sliding open, Zoro reveled in that arousal warping the photographer’s face before coming back to himself with several blinks. Sanji stared. Rearing back with a sneer once Zoro’s offer had settled in, “No, you are not coming in my apartment.”

“That’s fine,” Zoro crooned—already coaxing Sanji back in with a playful grip to his chin. He wanted those lips again. Loved how soft and full they were. Groaning against them as his eyes started to fall shut—remembering what it had been like to be in the photographer, “I don’t care where I come in you.”

Zoro could feel Sanji’s blush.

Ripping out of Zoro’s hold lightning-quick, Sanji ran out of room and promptly smacked the back of his head on the window with a pretty significant thunk. He groaned audibly. Hands coming up to cradle the injury as Zoro watched with an apologetic, if humorous, smile.

“You alright?” Zoro drawled.

A blush visibly pinched the photographer’s ears; even with his face hidden, there was no doubt one on his cheeks as well. His head shot up to prove Zoro’s theory correct, but Sanji seemed intent on using irritation to account for the redness of his complexion. Snarling heatedly at Zoro while his hand slapped at the car behind him in an attempt to locate the door handle.

“Eat shit!”

Clamoring out of the car with his camera bag clutched protectively in his arms, Sanji rounded on Zoro and sneered, “And you owe me a new shirt!” before slamming the door much more aggressively than was necessary.

Zoro watched Sanji storm off.

It was becoming a regular occurrence with them – and perhaps it wasn’t a good sign – but Zoro never got sick of watching him go. That irritated rigidity in his shoulders. Those clenched fists at his sides. Every stomping footstep that looked like it could shatter concrete. All of it culminated in a fiery stride that had Zoro smiling fondly after the fuming photographer.

Eyes steadily drifting down the lithe frame to appreciate every little quirk that he finally knew—could remember under his hands. Disheveled hair that was so ridiculously soft, swayed with each step. That bit of pale skin visible at his collar, and just under the hem of his pant leg; so smooth and blisteringly hot to the touch in a way that matched his fiery tempter. Eventually Zoro’s gaze drifted to Sanji’s ass, and his hand tightened on the steering wheel with a squeak of the leather—he couldn’t believe he was just in that.

Groaning softly – watching until Sanji was in the building and out of sight – Zoro slumped back in his seat to stare wistfully out the windshield. He was already hard again. It was almost ridiculous how badly he wanted the photographer—their interlude in his car had done nothing to quell his desire.

Jerkily thrusting the car into drive and spinning back out onto the road, Zoro selected the address for his downtown apartment – not wanting to make the longer drive home, especially in his condition – then attempted to drive despite the distracting hardness between his thighs. He got there in record time. Killing the engine before slipping low in the seat with another frustrated groan that was only in part due to his uncomfortable situation.

Zoro scowled.

It had all just happened, and yet the events in the car had played over and over in his head. He was still a little shocked it had happened at all. There wasn’t entirely a clear answer to what had changed Sanji’s mind – or perhaps what had been the breaking point of his restraint – but Zoro wasn’t complaining.

Sanji had been everything he’d hoped for—and more.

From their previous interactions, he’d known Sanji would be intense, but he hadn’t been prepared for the chemistry. How hot, and vibrant, and easy it was. They had fallen into each other in a way that had been so effortless, and Sanji’s unrelenting confidence only made it that much more enthralling.

There was a never-ending slew of admirers that would’ve gladly been in that position, but they always gave it up so easily—acting the way they thought he would want them to. With the moaning, and the gasping, and the painful predictability. Not Sanji. Sanji had fought him every step of the way—demanding he make it good, daring him to make him like it. Every little thing had been about Zoro proving he was worth Sanji’s time.

It was unbelievably hot—Zoro couldn’t get it out of his head.

Slapping his hand to his face with a laborious groan – cock twitching his pants at the mere memory – Zoro rubbed at his eyes wearily before allowing his hand to slip lower. He clasped it across his mouth irritably. Scowling out the windshield in an attempt to get some modicum of control back over himself before it came to a grinding halt.

A small inhale had him moaning into his palm—his hand reeked of Sanji. Beneath the alluring odor of smoke, flowery cologne, and heady musk was the pure, unaltered tang of Sanji’s spunk. Laced with lube.

Zoro’s mouth watered.

With a thick swallow – that resounded tauntingly loud in his own ears – Zoro knew he should, at the very least, get into his apartment—but another stiff inhale had him crumbling. His hands dropped to his lap. Cursing softly to himself as he realized this photographer was going to be more trouble than he was worth.

Hurriedly fumbling his jeans open and wrestling his aching length out – a wave of his own indecent musk wafting up to greet him – Zoro grasped it readily and began working himself with smooth, hard strokes. He was already so close to the edge. Every upstroke had his uncut sheath coming up to kiss the edges of the swollen head and had precum oozing from the tip.

That tension was building at the base.

Shifting his hand up to cradle just under the head, Zoro worked the sensitive area with short, fast strokes as he let his head fall back. His other hand turning to splay across his face. Mouth and nose smothered under his palm so he was able to breathe in as much of Sanji’s sex as he could.

It wasn’t long before his own humid, panted breaths obscured the scent and Zoro had to fight back a growl of frustration. Hand falling uselessly to his side as he glared at the ceiling. Focusing on how Sanji had looked underneath him – flushed and drunk – gasping through his release while Zoro thrust the cum out of the fiery photographer.

Zoro felt his cock swelling readily in his palm.

Head rolling to the side and his eyes fluttering, Zoro huffed through gritted teeth as he stroked himself faster. Once more, the car windows were indecently fogged. Evidence of his and Sanji’s activities present in the swipe of a foot to the windshield and the obvious handprint of Sanji’s immortalized on the driver-side window—it was his undoing.

Knowing he was going to make a mess, Zoro reached back absently for his discarded shirt, snagging it and moving to cover his cock, but paused at the memory of wiping up Sanji’s sweaty, cum-covered body with it. A pathetic groan slipped from Zoro’s lips, but he was already in too deep to care.

Pressing the bundled up wad of cloth against his face – Sanji’s sex overwhelmingly glorious – Zoro all but suffocated himself with the fabric while bringing himself to completion. Zoro bit down on the shirt as an almost painful orgasm punched through him. Heels digging into the floor of the car, hips bucking up desperately, hand working furiously until it all came to a peak; the scalding splatter of his own spunk faintly dotting his chest.

Working himself with strong, powerful strokes as he coaxed spurt after spurt out of his quivering cock—a little surprised he still had so much left. Completely floored by how affected the photographer made him. Eventually he’d milked himself empty and he released his spent cock for it to slap wetly against his stomach amongst the mess he’d made on himself.

As he slowly came back to reality – fighting the urge to pass out; sated – Zoro’s hand flexed around his shirt before lowering it to rest in his lap. He glared at the fabric. A little ashamed at himself now that his head was a bit clearer, but far more certain than before that he was in no way finished with that photographer.

TBC…

Chapter Text

clo•ve (klōv) – with dignity and restraint

~

The flash gave a burst of temporary glow in the large bush Sanji found himself in. At the light, the family of mallard ducks blinked, one of their beady eyes staring sideways back at Sanji as he held his breath. The male stood and he was sure they were both on the verge of shooting through the leaves and into the water.

When almost a full minute had passed, the male walked to the other side of his mate, putting himself between her and Sanji, and sat down with a comfortable wiggle. 

Sanji released a slow breath. He raised the camera back to his face and zoomed in, off-setting their heads just enough and waited until their eyes fell shut in contentment once again. He snapped the shutter, this time neither duck reacted to the sound or light. Reviewing the few shots he was able to get, he felt satisfied. Cautiously, Sanji stepped backward, taking the way he came, and climbed out of the bush.

A few feet away squatting on a fallen log, Usopp aimlessly messed around on his phone. Hearing Sanji emerge, he looked up and whispered, “Did you get one?”

“Yeah, a few,” Sanji said and sat down next to him. He leaned over to start flipping through the photos, showing them off. “The male moved around a lot, but the female stayed still the whole time. Pretty sure she has eggs under her.”

“Ooooh, neat! This one’s pretty.”

Smiling, Sanji zoomed in so the iridescent, green feathers on the male’s head took up the whole screen. “Very pretty,” he agreed.

The two of them were quiet, simply enjoying the view of the small pond in front of them. The loud, familiar buzz of cicadas pulsed in and out, almost deafening at some points, accompanied by the occasional thump of a green frog croaking somewhere in the distance. It was nice.

Except it wasn’t. 

Sanji’s head throbbed. He let his camera hang from his neck so he could prop his elbows over his knees and rub his temples with the tips of his fingers. 

“That’s the third time I’ve seen you do that. You okay, man?” Usopp asked, leaning forward to look at Sanji’s hidden face.

He had been trying to avoid anything regarding his current state because he knew where it would lead—but he also didn’t want to lie to his friend. 

“Yeah, m’fine. Was just out late, is all.”

“Oh, getting some sweet night shots in? Where did you go?”

Sanji groaned. “No,” he said and winced. He would rather not talk about what he did. Squeezing his eyes shut, he ducked his head between his knees even further and talked at the ground. “I wasn’t taking photos.”

There was confusion in Usopp’s voice. “Okay… then what were you doing? You don’t really do anything other than photography and hook-ups and— OHHH!”  

“Ugh…” 

Cringing, Usopp apologized for shouting in his face. “Why didn’t you just tell me you had a hangover? Did you have fun, at least, to make it worth it? See, this is why you should listen to me—I told you about that prickly pear extract and you clearly didn’t try it! It’s plant-based so it’s all-natural and it’s not even expensive! Just five hours before going out and it will–”

“Usopp.”

“Okay, okay! Sorry.”

“No… it’s alright. It’s just been a while since I drank that much, is all.” Sanji lifted his head to face Usopp. The alcohol was hardly the problem. His headache was more related to what he had done last night and who he had done it with. “I think I need more water. Did you wanna head back to the park now to relax for a bit?”

Usopp agreed with a fist pump and a smile, pulling a laugh from Sanji. The two of them packed up the equipment, working quietly so as not to scare off the wildlife. All ready to go, Sanji threw his bag over his shoulder and waved for Usopp to follow. 

They trekked through the brush, sidestepped the mud, or dipped low to avoid branches. Finally back on the main path, they pulled their bikes out from behind a large tree and rode back. The sounds of kids laughing and dogs barking became louder as the park started coming into view again.

Headed down a path, they rode around until they happened upon an open space big enough for them—eventually settling between a thick tree and a small group of girls. They sat on a plush blanket together and Sanji envied how comfortably they looked. Usopp pulled out a water bottle and a granola bar for them both.

The cool air felt fantastic now that they were out in the open. “I already feel better,” Sanji said, relieved his headache wasn’t as bad. He took another swig of water and closed his eyes to enjoy the breeze.

As Usopp tucked a few misplaced twists back under his headband, he flicked his head at Sanji. “So? Spill it. Tell me about your date.”

“It wasn’t a date.”

Usopp smiled. “Ahhh, that means you were out with a guy.”  

Sanji rolled his eyes, hating how easy it was for his friend to pry information out of him. When he finished his granola bar, he sighed and scoffed and growled before he told the rest of the story. “Yes, it was with a guy. We went out to Wild Cherry–”

“Oooooh, I love that place!”

“Yeah, me too. We went there and talked over a few rounds.”

Usopp waited for more but Sanji looked away. He knew he was being suspicious. Usopp ended up wrinkling his nose and shaking his head at him. 

“Did something happen? Usually, you have more to say than that.”

Sanji was definitely avoiding his curious stare. When Usopp leaned over to read his expression, Sanji brought his knees up and covered his head. This made Usopp laugh and poke his ribs, asking what the hell the big deal was until he caved. 

“It was with Zoro, okay?!”

Sucking in all the air around them with a loud and dramatic gasp, Usopp screamed, “ZORO RORONOA?!”

“DAMMIT, SHHH!” Sanji looked around at the nearby people, smiling to act casual.

The next few minutes were spent with Usopp babbling nonsense while Sanji assured the girls next to them that everything was fine. He swore he saw foam bubbling from the corners of Usopp’s mouth.

“You–you had drinks with Zoro Roronoa?! THEE Zoro Roronoa?!”

“Yes!” Sanji hissed and shushed him again.

“I am sooo jealousss!” Usopp whined. He tugged on his hair and wiggled back and forth in envy. “I can’t believe you got to kiss him and hang out with him!”

“Hey! He kissed me, alright! So let’s get that straight!”

“What changed your mind about him? Weren’t you like, upset after that first gig or something?”

Sanji pulled out his pack of cigarettes and lit up. “I was, yeah,” he said, watching a couple walking their dog pass them by. “I told you I was mad because he assumed he could get anything he wanted from me.” Sanji shrugged. “But it was easier to forgive him when he apologized, even after I kneed him in the balls.”

“I’m sorry—what?”

Sanji rested his hand over his thigh, the smoke blowing away from them with the wind. He stared at Usopp as he tried figuring out what he wanted. “What?”

“What did you just say? I–I don’t think I heard you correctly,” Usopp laughed nervously.

“I said he apologized to me for the unwarranted kiss.”

“Yes, yes—I heard that part. I meant after that, what did you say?”

A grin tugged at the corners of Sanji’s mouth. Smugly, he set his cigarette over his lip and leaned in. “I said, I kneed him square in the dick.”

“You… you… I can’t… I’m sorry? You kicked Zoro Roronoa in the nuts and you’re still alive?!”

He couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes at that. Sanji scoffed and waved a hand to dismiss the ass-kissing type of behavior. “We already went over this, Usopp. It’s what the flowers were for, remember? God, I feel like I spend more time repeating myself when I’m around you than I do anything else.”

While Usopp muttered under his breath, Sanji watched more people pass them by as he thought about the Not-Date he went on last night. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he did have a fun time with Zoro. The asshole turned out to be a pretty nice guy, just as Nami had told him. 

It was too quiet between them suddenly. Sanji puffed on his cigarette and looked to Usopp, seeing he was on his phone and furiously swiping across the screen.

“What are you looking up now?”

“M’tryin’ to see if there’re any paparazzi photos of you two,” Usopp said under his breath.

Sanji’s eyes comically widened as he lunged at Usopp to look at his phone. “Did you find anything?! I didn’t even think about people seeing us!”

“No, I don’t see anything at all, actually.” Usopp scrolled and tapped a few more times. “The latest piece of info is this sneak-shot of him coming off his jet early last week. Says he just— hey! Look it up on your own phone if you wanna know!”

Sanji stole Usopp’s cell from his hands and read the article himself. It said he had just come back from a mysterious trip to Japan. The photo at the top of the page was of Zoro looking over his shoulder at the cameraman, part of his face hidden by an upturned collar of his jacket. He wore a hat in a poor attempt to hide his trademark hair and was carrying an abnormally long briefcase.

“Gimmie!” Usopp said, snatching his phone back. Sanji scooted closer to him so they could read together. “I guess the article is focusing on the case he’s carrying. Says it’s the second one this year.”

Sanji asked Usopp to click on the photo and zoom in, and when he did, he squinted. Barely visible around Zoro’s large fist, Sanji could just make out a shiny, golden handle. “Looks familiar…” 

“You’ve seen it?!”

“Yeah, I think. In his office,” Sanji said, straightening again. He stubbed out his cigarette in the grass and added the butt to their pile of trash.

Usopp twisted to face him. “What was inside!”

“It doesn’t say?” Sanji asked uncertainly. Now he felt as if he had knowledge he wasn’t sure he should be sharing. “I mean…”

“C'monnn, spill it! Who am I gonna tell?! You’re my only friend, man!”

It didn’t feel right to expose Zoro’s private life, but Usopp had a point—he really didn’t have anyone else to gossip to. “I think it was a sword.”

“Really!” Usopp shouted, making Sanji wince again. “I knew he was into them but I didn’t think he would personally go and get one. Why didn’t he just get it mailed to him? Maybe it was because he was already in the country and saw it? I wonder how much it cost! Prolly like a zillion dollars if Zoro Roronoa was buying it.”

Usopp rattled on about the swords while Sanji occasionally nodded his head, half-listening. His mind trailed back to the thought of being caught by the paparazzi—he hadn’t thought of the possibility.

Sanji looked up the article on his own phone, curious to zoom in on the sneak shot of Zoro. A little grainy, but the scowl he wore was as clear as day; unhappy with being bombarded directly off a lengthy flight. 

Sanji knew the scowl wasn’t him. In the studio, the only emotion he could pull from Zoro was that same stony, calloused expression. It didn’t look entirely out of place on him, either—Zoro truly looked like a disinterested CEO. But once they were in his office, in his element and surrounded by his belongings, he was someone entirely different, someone entirely new. He squeezed his phone, mentally high-fiving himself for getting that shot, a genuine smile from him.

It was the same person he went to the bar with. Sanji thought of how much fun the two of them had swapping stories, his infectious laughter only egging Sanji on to share more of the ridiculousness he had endured. The image of Zoro’s smiling face morphed into something else in Sanji’s mind. 

Hazel eyes half-lidded—glazed over as he stared down at him. Zoro’s mouth fell slack, hanging open after biting his lip. Heavy, labored pants steamed the windows surrounding them. Zoro hardly stifled his lewd grunts as he mercilessly fucked into Sanji in the tight enclosure of his car, his legs pressed against his chest as Zoro leaned against them with all his weight. He fucked him so hard, so deep, so –

“Just drinks, then?” Usopp said, circling back to the Not-Date.

Sanji brought his knees up, clamping his legs together to hide his sudden arousal. “Hmm? What?”

“You said you were out late. Did you do anything else? Like dinner beforehand?”

“Yeah, we uh… we fucked.”

“What?!”  

Sanji shushed Usopp with an attack, knocking him over and slapping both his hands over his mouth. “Quiet, will you?!”

The group of young ladies next to them had ceased their talking, all curiously staring over at the two of them. Sanji smiled awkwardly, looking down at his friend squished underneath him. He let out a sputtered laugh to play off their sudden roughhousing and released Usopp, who sat up with a look of disbelief on his face. 

“You had sex with my role model?”

“I’m sorry!” Sanji quickly covered his face in shame. “He’s so fucking hot!”

“You really had sex with him?!”

Pulling at his hair, Sanji squeezed his eyes shut. “Yes!”

“You–you couldn’t just politely decline?!”

Sanji kicked his heels against the ground and tugged on his hair even harder. “I'm the one who brought it up!” Usopp groaned and facepalmed. “I couldn’t resist! I’da fucked him sooner if he didn’t approach me like a prick!”

“Wow… you… you really slept with him, huh? My one and only hero—and you slept with him.” Usopp laid back in the grass and talked at the sky, resigned and deflated. “Well,” he said, flipping a hand upward. “Was it at least good?”

“That’s the worst part! It was so good!” Sanji said, surprised to hear those words fall from his mouth so easily—but he couldn’t lie to himself. “One of my top ten hottest fucks, at least!”

Shooting up to face him again, Usopp screeched, “He made it into your top ten?!”

“He’s huge, Usopp! Nearly tore me in half! I can’t stop thinking about it!”

Usopp clapped his hands over his ears and looked away. “Lalala! I can’t hear youuu! Lalala!”

Sanji shivered at the ghosted feeling of riding Zoro, grinding himself as deep as he could take while he gripped Zoro’s jaw in his hand to keep his smart mouth shut. Another shiver as he suppressed a moan.

Reaching forward, Sanji pulled Usopp’s arms down. “I’m done now.”

“You’re gross, you know that? I don’t want to know that kinda stuff about you—or him! I don’t want to ruin the image I have of him in my head!”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry. He’s still a fuckin nerd, just like you.”

Usopp calmed down after that. He dramatically sighed a few times until he finally asked, “Did you at least get his number? Email address? Can I have it?”

“The hell would I need those for?” Sanji laughed, then quickly added, “And why do you want them!”

“For a second date!” he said, completely dodging Sanji’s other question.

Sanji grimaced as he pulled another cigarette out, tapping it on the box instead of lighting up. “It wasn’t a date, Usopp. It was just a one-time thing.”

For a moment, Usopp looked saddened by Sanji’s words. His mouth twitched as he stared, seemingly trying to find the right response and gnawing at his bottom lip. He seemed pensive, although wary. A small sigh escaped, as if he had come to terms with his thoughts. Then, with a sudden burst of energy, he brushed off his inner turmoil by sitting up straight and giving a single, sharp clap—startling Sanji, despite looking right at him.

“You’re right! He’ll be on to the next one in no time!” he said triumphantly.

Sanji glared. He knew he was just a fling, a piece of ass to get out of Zoro’s system, but it didn’t mean it wasn’t annoying to hear someone else tell him that. 

The harsh scowl made Usopp cower. “I mean—not that you aren’t a worthy partner or anything! I’m sure you’re great in bed, just, you know, he’s got better things to do!” 

Sanji raised an eyebrow, challenging Usopp to screw up one more time. He chose to stay quiet instead.

Bringing the cigarette to his mouth, Sanji flicked his thumb over the flint of his lighter a few times until the flame finally ignited. 

“You’re not wrong, though,” he said through his first inhale. “On to the next one.”

It was quiet between the two of them for the next few moments while Sanji finished his cigarette.

Eventually, Usopp spoke up to fill that silence. 

“Well, it’s for the best, I guess.”

“Hm?” Sanji turned to his friend and blew smoke toward him to rile him up. When Usopp flailed his hands in front of him to wave it away, Sanji laughed. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Usopp opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off by the loud shriek from the girls nearby, a collective, “Oh my gosh!” spilling out before the loud smack of hands covered their mouths. Both Usopp and Sanji looked over to see if everything was okay.

“Are you serious?!” one of the girls asked incredulously.

“Yeah! It’s horrible!”
“I’m genuinely worried for her at this point,” another said, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “They said they found seeds in her lungs only last month–”

“That’s not even that long ago!”

“–and Thursday she was forced into surgery.”

There were more gasps among the group until the first girl spoke up again. “Already?!”

Sanji felt himself stiffen, surprised with the rest of them. The end of his cigarette went out – a thin wisp of leftover smoke curled upward – yet he didn’t remove it from his lip. It sat there hanging—limp. 

“Mmhm.” The girl tapped two fingers to her throat before saying, “Roots in the esophagus.”

Shaking his head, Sanji stopped listening – refused to keep listening – but their words haunted him. Fiddling with his cigarette tin, he debated on pulling out another. Picking his head up, he saw Usopp was looking off in the distance, at anything but Sanji to avoid his gaze. 

There was nothing to say after that interruption, Usopp’s remark ringing too true. 

Sanji pressed his lips together in a flat line, nodding to himself, before saying under his breath, “Right. It’s for the best.”

~

Screeching of tires – accentuated by the acrid scent of burnt rubber – announced Zoro’s arrival as he wheeled his car aggressively to a halt in front of the office complex. He threw it into neutral. Engine purring contentedly as he quickly snagged his effects and the black plastic bag off the passenger seat before throwing open the door and stepping out.

A valet was already running towards him with his hands extended as Zoro dug the keyfob from his pocket and tossed it to him with an absent wave. Hand now free to tug off his sunglasses and hook them comfortably in the front of his sweater. Making his way up the entranceway and into the building, Zoro couldn’t stop the smug grin from lighting up his face.

He’d been in a pleasant mood all weekend.

Perhaps it was a little childish to be so giddy over finally getting what he wanted, but if he hadn’t genuinely given up on the photographer’s interest, he didn’t think he’d be nearly as ecstatic to know he was wrong. It didn’t help that it had been fantastic.

Letting Sanji get out of his car had been particularly onerous when all he wanted to do was take the photographer home and attempt to fuck him through the bed. Or whatever flat surface they got to first. Either way, he wouldn’t have let him get much sleep—it was easy to admit that he was obsessed and wanted more. It had been tempting to call him up the next day – and that wasn’t something he ever did – but if he didn’t know Sanji was still hired for one final job he would’ve caved.

Which is why he walked into work with a lightness of step, because Sanji was coming by today and he had a good idea of how it would go. However, his good mood was apparently noticeable—the second he rounded the corner and Nami saw him she was instantly suspicious.

Nami’s eyes narrowed, “You got laid.”

“Thanks for the memo.” Zoro muttered, stopping in front of her desk. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Pulling out a bottle of hand sanitizer, Nami popped the cap and then gestured for Zoro to hold out his palm. Her expression made it clear it wasn’t up for discussion; Zoro held out a hand and waited for her to empty an insulting amount into his palm. Forced to heavily lather his hands before shaking them out in an attempt to dry them faster while finally complaining.

“I didn’t just finish having sex.”

“I don’t know how recently your fingers have been up someone’s ass.” Nami barked back. “I’ve caught you doing worse!”

Zoro’s lips thinned—he couldn’t argue that.

“By the way,” Pausing – Nami looked like the words pained her – she leaned down to grab a bag off the floor and place it on her desk. “Your car was cleaned and everything you left in it is here.”

Finishing air-dying his hands, Zoro hooked his finger into the top of the bag and peered inside to find his hoodie, car fob, and a collection of buttons that brought a smile to his face. He’d enjoyed how much it had riled Sanji up. It was definitely something he was going to do again once he got the chance—that indignant expression was priceless.

“I just feel bad for whatever poor sap had to take the brunt of your frustrations.”

“Trust me; they weren’t complaining.” Grabbing the bag, Zoro paused before reconsidering that notion. Sanji had been kind of whiny. He amended, “Much.”

“Gross.”

Zoro ignored her.

“What’s today?”

“Just some simple headshots.” Nami explained, “I already have all the equipment brought up so it should be over and done quickly; since I assume you don’t wanna be around Sanji for that long.”

Zoro shrugged indifferently—not about to let her in on the joke.

Heading for his office, he called absently over his shoulder, “Just send him in when he gets here.”

Nami’s response was a mutter and a dismissive wave.

Kicking the door shut behind him, Zoro made his way across his office and tossed the bag from Nami, as well as the black one, onto his desk before falling into his seat. He flipped open his laptop bringing up a program he’d been working on earlier that week along with several other windows; emails, and projects he needed to deal with. Not in the mood to litigate, Zoro shut them and turned his focus onto the code as he began working diligently. They had departments for this sort of stuff but he always preferred doing the initial groundwork himself—especially when it was still just an experiment.

Losing himself in his work for several hours, he’d barely noticed time had passed until the sound of the door handle had him pausing. Clicking on the keys coming to a halt—Zoro’s eyes flicked to the door as it pushed in and Sanji entered.

As eccentrically dressed as ever. This time Sanji sported a heinous purple and yellow paisley shirt that Zoro was already imagining popping the buttons off to rid Sanji of the burden of throwing it out himself. He had a pair of mustard yellow corduroy pants. And a maroon bow tie.

Zoro took his time remembering him undressed and in his lap.

There was clearly some apprehension in the photographer despite how proudly he held himself, and once the door shut he had no choice but to turn to face Zoro. His expression was aloof, but the way he stared belied it. They were both obviously reliving the last moments they had spent in each other’s company, and Zoro was more certain than ever that he needed more.

“Hey,” Zoro smirked—he wasn’t feeling particularly subtle today.

Sanji’s lips pursed in poorly hidden embarrassment as he gave a terse, “Hello.”

Letting his stare disconcert the photographer for a moment longer, Zoro then pushed to his feet and thrived off the minute bit of tension he could see snap through him. Zoro made his way across the office. Loving the way Sanji never took his eyes off him, even if it was suspicious and hostile—it was amusing that the photographer was still ready to start a fight after he’d already been inside him.

Gaze dropping to run the length of Sanji’s frame, his fingers itched to ruin that shirt and he had to wonder if the photographer had specifically chosen it as an invitation, or if he really did just prefer button-ups. When his eyes flicked back up, Sanji was watching him with narrowed eyes so Zoro chose to keep his hands in his pockets for the time being, but couldn’t refrain from leaning in with hungry eyes.

Sanji’s hand shot up—flicking Zoro aggressively on the nose.

“Down, boy.”

Zoro stood stunned.

Eventually coming back to himself – continuously thrown by the way Sanji had no problems putting his hands on Zoro violently – he blinked down at the photographer, “Did you just flick me?”

Ignoring Zoro and shucking off his pack, Sanji held the bag between them like a shield and gave it a shake for emphasis before saying, “I’m here for work .”

Zoro arched a brow, “Just work?”

“That’s right.” Sneering the response, Sanji didn’t allow any room for discussion. He lowered his bag and stormed past Zoro as he reiterated, “ Just work.”

Left alone at the door, Zoro stared at the spot Sanji had been moments before with slight derision; Sanji’s defenses were hilariously high at the moment. He turned to watch Sanji set his bag down at the lounge area and begin unpacking. It was impossible to miss the trace of a blush peeking out from under his collar and tingeing his nape—an obvious tell to how he actually felt about the whole situation.

There’d been a reason Sanji had given in – why it had been so devastatingly good – but it was hidden under heaps of pride that was going to take time to chip away at. He wasn’t just going to admit he wanted more. Just like last time, Zoro was going to have to coax the stubborn photographer into admitting that he wanted it too—but that meant patience.

“Alright~” Zoro eventually acquiesced, but failed to hide his smile as he slowly made his way over. Hands still politely in his pockets. Deciding to play the long game if that was what it would take, “Just work.”

As he neared, it became increasingly obvious that Sanji was trying to mask his nervousness in a guise of professionalism—currently installing his lens with surgical precision. He refused to look at Zoro. Dropping down to sit on the nearby armrest of the lounge chair, Zoro lazily crossed his ankles and enjoyed watching the photographer unabashedly. There was no longer any need for false modesty.

Able to appreciate Sanji in an entirely new light now that he had seen the illicit side to the aggressive photographer. He knew precisely what lay underneath those clothes. A clear memory of the way those lips felt against his, and just how dazzling those eyes were when lidded with pleasure. No amount of scowling could make Zoro forget.

Zoro muscled down a groan.

There was no one to blame except himself, but he was already over this whole gig; this facade of professionalism between them was laughable after everything that had happened. He was learning though. A tactful dance was required to get the stubborn photographer to drop his guard, which meant Zoro once more had to play the long game with him.

“By the way,” Zoro broached. His head tilting casually with the innocent segue, Zoro waited for Sanji to look at him – still suspicious – before murmuring, “You left something in my car.”

An innocent enough statement, but nevertheless forced Sanji to acknowledge the salacious nature of their relationship—and they were safely out of dick-kicking, throat-punching, and nose-flicking distance.

“Really?” Ingenuous curiosity tinged the photographer’s voice in such a sincere way that Zoro momentarily reconsidered his plan, but then Sanji remembered himself with a scathing scoff. His voice was spectacularly flat as he drawled, “Are you sure it’s mine?”

Zoro doubled down on his decision.

“In that car?” Zoro countered with a smirk, “Yes.”

Without waiting for Sanji's indignantly sputtered response, Zoro rose to his feet – giving Sanji a wide berth – and headed to his desk. He pushed his chair out of the way. Then turned to see if he still held the photographer’s attention.

Eyes flicking up to find Sanji staring at him inquisitively cautious – clearly wracking his brain in hopes of remembering what he may have lost – Zoro reached into the bag on his desk to fish out the buttons while Sanji began making his way over. Zoro had just managed to finger the last bit of plastic into his palm when Sanji stopped across from him. Excitement fluttered in his chest at the reaction he knew he was going to get from the feisty man.

Zoro extended his hand.

Adorably innocent and ridiculously trusting, Sanji held out his hand to receive it without question—Zoro actually felt a flutter of guilt, but it was too late now. Committed to the bit, Zoro grinned broadly and dropped the buttons into Sanji’s waiting hand with an unnecessarily proud flick of his wrist.

Sanji stood frozen for several seconds as the buttons registered before his face inevitably twisted.

“Are you serious right now?!” Sanji’s snarl was furious, borderline murderous—gorgeous.

Hand fisting around the buttons with a white-knuckled grip, Sanji swiveled on his heel and – with all the expertise of a professional baseball player – whipped the buttons across the room. An orchestration of Sanji’s fury filling the office with the pattering of plastic pinging off a variety of surfaces.

Sanji rounded back on Zoro with gritted teeth, “Fuckin’ asshole!”

Staring in the general direction Sanji had just indignantly lobbed the buttons, Zoro wasn’t even surprised by the reaction—he’d actually been more expecting them to be thrown back in his face. He glanced back. Taking a moment to bask in the proverbial heat of Sanji’s rage before deciding to cool him off.

Lazily reaching down to the black bag he’d set down earlier, Zoro retrieved the shirt he’d already replaced for the photographer. True to his word. Brand new; still in its clear plastic wrappings, folded impeccably, cardboard slip keeping the collar in mint condition. Only thing missing was the price tag which had been carefully removed. Offering it to the seething photographer and watching as Sanji’s face dropped in a delightful combination of embarrassed horror.

Zoro’s lips twitched.

A beat passed—cogs in Sanji’s head obviously turning to calculate the cost-benefit of rejecting or taking the shirt. Again, Zoro wouldn’t even be surprised if Sanji refused on principle, but he did sincerely hope the photographer would accept—it was an apology, regardless if it was something he fully intended to do again if given the opportunity.

Sanji gritted his teeth.

It was clear he had things he wanted to say, but thought better of; thrusting out a hand instead and snagging the shirt petulantly. He stormed away. Shoving it angrily into his bag and then proceeding to furiously fiddle with the zip that he’d managed to catch the fabric in in his haste to close it.

“Anyway,” Zoro murmured with a polite gesture towards all the equipment. He waited for Sanji to get over his fidgeting. Only when Sanji had inspected the set up, and then turned back to him did Zoro finally offer the photographer an out, “ Just work. Right?”

~

Everything had already been brought up for him this time and set into position. Internally, Sanji rolled his eyes. He asked to shoot in his office one time, which apparently meant he wanted to do all three jobs in the same location.

Noticing the backdrop first, Sanji frowned. 

Solid white. Stark. Boring. Plain. 

Corporate.  

He almost wilted into a puddle on the floor. When he came up beside the stand, he fingered between the top paper to see what was below. A solid black one. 

The email explaining today’s agenda specified Zoro needed light and dark headshots. Sanji didn’t think they literally meant black and white?! Frantically, Sanji looked around for other options but didn’t see any colored rolls anywhere. 

Okay, that’s fine! Sanji thought, trying to calm himself down. We can still use gels. 

Sanji searched around the forest of light stands for a box or a binder, finally finding a case tucked away in the back. It was a little small with fewer color choices than he expected, but there was at least a good enough variety to choose from for today. Sanji looked up as Zoro tinted the windows – killing the daylight – before making his way over to the lounge area and making himself comfortable.

“Was this all the equipment available to use, then?”

“Not my job,” Zoro said with a shrug and placed his arms behind his head, leaning back on the couch. The bottom of his sweater rode up with the stretch, showing off a sliver of dark skin. Sanji swallowed and turned away, needing to stay focused or he’d never get through this last job and instead give Zoro exactly what he wanted.

Leaning over his laptop he had set on a small pedestal, Sanji pulled up his email to go over the day’s agenda again, double-checking what was being requested.

REQUIRED: PR HEADSHOTS

5-6 usable photos. Light and dark backgrounds. Desperately need to be updated!

That was it? 

Public Relations was such a huge range, though! Articles, press, social media… basically asking for the most generic photos of the CEO so it was easy to match anything—which sounded like the last thing Sanji wanted to do.

Everything he did under the contract would be going straight into his portfolio – and on his resume in big, fat, bold letters – and he would never be associated with mediocre work, especially regarding something as large as Santoryu.

 Which meant there was no way he was going to do this plainly—it just wasn’t his style.

“I don’t want to do this,” Sanji said, turning to face Zoro.

“Then let’s not,” Zoro said with a smirk. He dropped his legs from the table one by one and patted over his thigh, wordlessly inviting Sanji over. “I can think of something else I’d like to do.”

“No, no—Sorry, not what I meant.” He shook his head and rubbed his palm over his forehead with frustration from the temptation, doing his best to ignore Zoro’s come on. “I mean, I do want to do this job, but I don’t want to do it like this,” he said, gesturing behind him at the nightmare setup. “What are my limits here?”

“What?”

Sanji sighed, genuinely upset. “Well,” he started, picking out which lights he was going to use and dragged them over. “I refuse to do boring shit. So, I’d like your permission to do whatever the fuck I want.” Before Zoro could reply, Sanji said over his shoulder as he bent to plug a light in, “Within reason, of course. I’ll still give you professional headshots. They’ll just be… cooler than other businessmen.”

“Have at it,” he said, waving him off. “If they’re unusable, Nami will have your head.”

Sanji wasn’t worried about Nami, he was completely confident in his ability of delivering more than what she was asking for. “Great,” he said, unable to hide his smile. He maneuvered around the pile of stuff and quickly got to work.

Flicking through the available colors for lights, Sanji absentmindedly asked Zoro to pick one. 

“Green.” 

Sanji froze. Slowly, he turned to face Zoro, eyes darting over each thing as he noticed them. 

Hair was green. 

Sweater was green. 

The entire bookshelf littered with plant-life—also green. 

Even his eyes had green in them. 

With a breathy laugh, Sanji teased, “And here I thought you were just some shitty adult who never grew out of his rebellious stage. Instead, I think I’ve learned a favorite color of yours.” Turning back to the gels, Sanji muttered under a hidden smile, “Green it is.”

Polyester piece successfully puddied to the extra flash, which would turn the white backdrop green instead, Sanji moved on. He placed his laptop on the back of the couch to teeter so he could wobble the pedestal over the paper backdrop – careful not to snag it – and set up the first flash directly behind it. 

“Come.” Sanji snapped his fingers to get Zoro’s attention and pointed. “Sit here.” 

 “I’m not a dog,” Zoro griped through an eye roll. Although displeased with Sanji’s wording, he still got up and plopped himself down on the pedestal with an annoyed huff. 

Sanji unfolded his tripod and set it a few feet away from Zoro, readying it for his camera. Seeing he had listened without further complaint, Sanji gave a cheesy grin and said in a condescending tone, “Good boy!” 

Those words seemed to have triggered the tiger to pounce.

Zoro’s fingers gripped into his thighs, baring his teeth, milliseconds before he lunged for Sanji—arms outstretched for Sanji’s waist.

But Sanji was working.

Reflexes kicking in, Sanji swiftly shifted to the side just enough to let Zoro surge past – and since he went ahead and assumed he could have his way with him while on the job – Sanji thought it best to jut his foot out just enough to hook under Zoro’s ankle—and lift. 

The CEO lost his balance and went down fast. Bodily turning to land on his shoulder rather than his face, Zoro landed with a frustrated growl. Before he could retaliate, Sanji kicked him all the way onto his back and planted his pristine, white shoe directly over Zoro’s sternum, keeping him pinned to the ground.

Sanji rested all his weight on his leg and propped an elbow over his thigh to lean over him. With a devilish smirk, he said, “Down boy.”

~

On the floor – gifted with a remarkably unfamiliar view of the ceiling – Zoro lay in shock at an unconventional turn of events that had managed to get him in this position. His lust for the photographer was creating an appetency that was embarrassingly blinding. Frankly, he couldn’t even remember the last time someone had successfully tripped him; much less had the audacity to put a foot to his chest—that was new.

Claiming to desire professionalism while simultaneously talking down to him like they were back in his car – back with Zoro inside him – had his patience all but shattered; the infuriating photographer didn’t get to have it both ways. Either they played this cute game of false niceties, or they accepted the reality of their situation; if Sanji wanted to bark commands again then he was going to have to accept Zoro was going to bite back.

“What don’t you understand,” Sanji pushed his heel down to emphasize his point, “about, ‘not on the job .’?!”

“What about after?” Zoro taunted.

Meeting Sanji’s irritation with a heated look, Zoro no longer had any qualms about disguising his intentions. His hand reached to gently grasp the photographer’s exposed ankle. Thumb flicking over the bone. Sanji instantly tried to jerk his leg away, but Zoro expected it. His grip on Sanji’s ankle became steadfast, as his other hand shot up to grip the photographer’s calf—he could feel Sanji’s strength under his palm and it only riled him more. Happily fantasizing about just how strong these legs actually were; having been blessed with a personal demonstration on multiple occasions at this point—the best by far having been when they had attempted to crush his ribcage.

Sanji sputtered under the attention.

“Getting assaulted turn you on or something, freak?”

Zoro gave a light squeeze to accompany his grin, “I know it’s just you flirtin’.”

“Fl– flirting?! ”

“Are you not? ”

Ignoring the question, Sanji tried to jerk his leg away again with a more ferocious growl, “Let go, shithead!”

Zoro laughed, but refused to budge—gifting Sanji an expectant look in regards to his earlier question.

“What— I’m not!” Sanji snapped indignantly, his tone growing more defensive with every word, “Not with you!”

Gazing up at the photographer with a lidded gaze, Zoro saw right through the lie and decided to change up his strategy—it was a risk, but would probably work. He was beginning to figure out Sanji’s ticks. Especially what made him snap, so Zoro decided to hit the photographer where it hurt—right in his heinous closet.

“Your lying is as terrible as that shirt,” Zoro drawled.

Jaw dropping – Zoro had to suppress a grin – Sanji’s face twisted with the same mortification of someone who’d just been stabbed before finally managing with an appalled screech, “My shirt?!”

Zoro smirked.

Another few seconds passed as Sanji fully digested the insult, then let a rage riddled, hysterical laugh shake his shoulders before sneering, “Ohhhh, fuuuck you.” 

“Already did,” Zoro quipped. Thoroughly enjoying the shock on the photographer’s face, but his next words were cut short, “Trying to agai—”

Wrenching his foot out of Zoro’s grasp, Sanji took advantage of Zoro’s surprise at having successfully gotten his leg free and slammed his foot down hard onto Zoro’s chest before he had a chance to roll away. Zoro knew he should’ve expected that, but it was too late. A garbled wheeze was forced out of him as Sanji ground his heel in with added flair.

“What’s wrong , Mr. Roronoa ?!” Dragging out the words with a playful, almost sing-song nature, Sanji’s tone could be mistaken for delightfully innocent if not for the furious inflection that accompanied the end of his statement. He leaned forward with a dangerous smile. Twisting the heel of his foot into Zoro’s sternum, each swivel punctuated by a word snidely hissed down at the man, “Thought. You. Liked. My. ‘ Flirting’?!”

Through a wheeze, Zoro managed to give a shaky – but stubbornly childish – thumbs up.

“God,” Sanji finally removed his foot with a sharp stomp to the office floor, “you really are a freak.”

On his back with a hand braced protectively to his stomach, Zoro continued to take his time to recover his breath from the passionate trampling he’d just received. He gifted Sanji with a proud grin, but got no response. Sanji simply continued to stand over Zoro—fuming.

It surprised Zoro that the photographer didn’t just storm off which actually gave credence to his theory this was just what they did, but he couldn’t help to feel he might’ve gone a bit too far. Zoro stared up at Sanji as he caught his breath. When it had returned to normal, Zoro finally spoke—and this time he dropped the teasing to ask with remarkable – even shocking himself – sincerity, “You really not flirting?”

“No, I’m—” Sanji balked, “I am, but it’s not like—!”

Annoyance soured Sanji’s face as he seemed to be restraining himself from outright stomping his foot in frustration—despite having just given it a stellar test run on Zoro’s diaphragm and sternum. He was clearly frustrated, and a little embarrassed. Shoulders deflating with an exhausted sigh, Sanji finally looked down at Zoro and gestured tiredly towards the equipment.

“I just mean… I’m trying to work.”

Zoro stared—trying to decipher the photographer’s mixed signals.

“So… after?”

“Ugh… Sure! Whatever! Just–” A sharp inhale accompanied Sanji’s acquiescence before biting his complaint short—his head fell back. He took a moment. Then dropped a dry look back at Zoro and urged, “Just please let me finish these photos, will you?”

Zoro lifted his hands in playful surrender, “Alright.”

Lifting an eyebrow at Zoro, Sanji was obviously skeptical of Zoro’s sudden willing cooperation; judging from his guarded movements he was expecting another grope. He waited, but when nothing came finally looked away. Shaking his head with an indiscernible mutter while stalking away—leaving Zoro laying on the floor.

Watching the photographer strut away, Zoro’s head steadily tilted back as he remained on the floor and observed Sanji’s purposeful puttering. Zoro enjoyed the upside down view for a little while. Only the photographer appeared to be about ready did Zoro finally roll up into a seated position, then push himself to his feet.

Absently brushing off the several shoe prints that adorned the front of his sweater—the heel in particular was especially defined. Once acceptable – by both Nami and Sanji’s standards – Zoro headed over to the stool to take a seat for hopefully the last time today.

As soon as he sat down, his previously loose jeans clung a bit tighter than before given his situation, so Zoro unabashedly reached down to readjust his erection. Shifting it up until it was less squished. Catching Sanji’s scandalized moue at Zoro’s behavior, he flashed a proud grin; the photographer responded with a roll of his eyes before ducking down to check the lighting through his camera.

Releasing himself politely, Zoro crossed his arms across his chest and then patiently waited while Sanji continued about doing his job—internally he was already counting the seconds for it all to be over. He watched as Sanji fiddled with his camera – seemingly pleased – but then started walking over to Zoro. Side stepping him at the last moment to reach up to fiddle with the light just to Zoro’s right.

It was the simplest of motions, but caused the fabric of Sanji’s shirt to pull taut in all the right places while still remaining snuggly tucked within the waistband of the corduroy pants. Certain folds and strained lines gave away that the photographer was once again wearing those thigh garters to keep his shirt modestly tucked in. Images of that tight, black elastic stretched over alabaster thighs in the dim lighting of his car had Zoro’s diminishing erection swelling in earnest.

Struggling to keep his promise of letting Sanji finish this confounded photoshoot, Zoro remained on the stool, but gave in to the urge to confirm his theory about Sanji’s salacious undergarments. He reached out to touch his thigh. Silken stripes of the corduroy ran in their delicate linear pattern down Sanji’s thigh—the bulge of the seam prominent against his palm.

Zoro waited for a reaction.

However, Sanji remained unfazed this time – whether to punish Zoro, or simply his own exhaustion, remained to be seen – allowing Zoro to do what he will without complaint. Zoro was curious to see how far he could take it, but was willing to move slowly. Not wanting to spook the prey that was – for once – being so docile to his predatory advances.

Curling his middle finger gently with a searching meander, Zoro soon felt a dip beneath the soft fabric where the elastic of Sanji’s shirt garter was pinching the muscle of his thigh just enough to pucker the skin. Zoro bit his lip to refrain from tightening his grip. Instead, allowed his finger to rub at the spot to make his intentions quite clear while his gaze darted up to watch Sanji pause in his ministrations to the light fixture.

Their stalemate stretched for a few seconds before Sanji returned to what he was doing like he hadn’t noticed a thing, so Zoro decided to be a bit more bold. He shifted his thumb around for a more commanding grip of the photographer’s thigh. Fingers traipsed along the outside to continue brushing over that lascivious garter while his thumb rubbed along the inseam of Sanji’s pants much more aggressively.

Sanji was talking, but Zoro wasn’t taking in a word.

Thumbing at the garter beneath, Zoro was also taking his time to appreciate just how lean the photographer’s leg was beneath all these stuffy clothes. He could practically feel the corded definition beneath his palm. It was apparent that the bike the photographer owned wasn’t just for show – the guy likely traveled everywhere on it – Zoro’s gaze drifting up to the testament to that fact.

Pants fitting just a little too snug had Zoro convinced that Sanji most certainly knew exactly what he was doing when he got dressed every morning. Every line and seam of the pants hugged him perfectly. Quite frankly, it was a travesty that Zoro still hadn’t gotten to see the photographer’s pert ass given the frustrating restrictions of their choice of location last time—and he had every intention of righting this unacceptable wrong.

Once again shifting his hand – tactful and cautious – Zoro grabbed a handful of the photographer’s ample ass only to have him stiffen in surprise before relaxing and continuing to fiddle with the light. Sanji was visibly irritated, but he was ignoring Zoro rather than attacking—a good sign. Wanting to test the waters a bit more, Zoro started to slide his fingers along the stitching of the rear pocket – aiming to slip even lower – and was pleasantly surprised to find Sanji allowed him. 

Fingers creeping along the enticing creases of fabric until they reached the seam, Zoro followed it down until he finally held everything in a possessive grip. His thumb digging in especially hard; really enjoying the feel of the solid globe of muscle. Giving a flirtatious squeeze before his hand was dislodged by Sanji turning abruptly to face him—Zoro’s hand felt suddenly, woefully empty.

“Alright, that’s good.” Sanji announced innocently—not even acknowledging what was going on. “Now to fix you.”

There was a bite to Sanji’s tone that was not missed by Zoro.

Knocking Zoro’s knees apart with a pointed rap of his knuckles, Sanji stepped between his legs like that was at all acceptable and proceeded to fidget with Zoro’s hair. Sanji perfected the craft of ignoring Zoro with an artful mastery. At this point, Zoro wasn’t sure there was much he could do to actually get the photographer’s attention short of outright groping him…

Zoro was sorely tempted.

With Sanji between his legs, Zoro didn’t even wait this time before dropping both hands to the photographer’s thighs to once again grasp with a promising bite—fingers digging in with pressing desire. Sliding up just as greedily. Coming to settle on Sanji’s hips with pointed implication exacerbated by Zoro’s thumbs resting on each hip bone and massaging encouragingly.

Hands impatiently wandering higher while Sanji continued to fuss with his hair and clothes, Zoro brought his palms up to cradle the photographer’s narrow waist with a happy squeeze. Sanji burned hot through the thin fabric of the shirt. Ridges of Sanji’s ribs rippled beneath Zoro’s fingers – muscle and bone flexing and shifting – uneven in their pattern which made Zoro realize Sanji was actually talking to him.

Zoro clued back in to catch the end of Sanji’s tirade.

"—shitty rich bastard can't even go a fucking hour without thinking with his fat horse cock.”

Zoro blinked—then snorted out an unflattering laugh.

“Thanks,” he finally chuckled.

Sanji looked down, hands stilling, “It wasn’t a compliment— you idiot.”

“You sure? ” Zoro sneered playfully, “‘Cause I remember you riding it pretty enthusiastically.”

Sanji’s jaw began to drop, but Zoro moved first.

Reaching down to cup Sanji through his pants with a commanding hand, Zoro was thrilled to find it was already beginning to swell. Giving a bit of a jerk to force Sanji to come to his toes and his hands to fall to Zoro’s shoulders to maintain his balance; fingers tracking lines through the soft fabric as they curled to bunch the shoulders into his hands with an aroused desperation. Sanji’s face warped delightfully – brow furrowed, eyes falling shut, lips sucked in – trying his best not to react. A shaky exhale huffed out to accompany the telling twitch of Sanji’s interest, currently hot and thick in Zoro’s hand.

“Looks like you remember too.”

That broke Sanji from his stupor—the photographer’s eyes snapping open as his hand shot up to grip Zoro’s jaw in that same pointed pinch that ground his cheeks into his teeth. He swore he tasted a bit of copper this time. Just when Zoro was certain he had finally gone too far, Sanji leaned forward with a lustful gaze and an aroused breath trembling over parted lips.

A visible struggle twisted the photographer’s face as his mouth hovered over Zoro’s – lips twitching to expose his teeth more than once – before recovering enough to turn his gaze back to Zoro. He was a tad unhinged. With a final exhale and a pointed squeeze of hand to ensure Zoro’s attention, Sanji growled, “Just give me one minute—just let me get the fucking photos.”

Then Sanji released Zoro—bodily shoving himself away and storming back to his camera. Zoro watching him go a tad surprised, but certainly not disappointed. When Sanji was safely behind the tripod, it took all of Zoro’s willpower to not grin in victory.

~

Sanji grit his teeth in frustration. 

Stupid asshole.  

When he walked into the CEO’s office today, he had a clear mind—firmly set on finishing the contract professionally. But here he was, avoiding eye contact with his client – his boss – because he required cooling off before continuing. One more possessive grope and Sanji would have collapsed. 

To fill in the few moments he needed to regain himself, Sanji pretended to fiddle with the height of his tripod, only to raise it back up to the exact same spot. It was hard to think when he was willing an erection away. Both of his hands shook with adrenaline.

Sanji had never been in this type of situation before, to be so sexually tempted he couldn’t even do his job properly—surprisingly, he never made it a habit of sleeping with his clients. He felt as if his head were swimming in a fog, fuzzy with want and need. To ease his frustration, both in anger and in lust, Sanji gripped the legs of his tripod in hopes to ground himself.

When he raised his head, Zoro’s raptor gaze was directly on him. The weight of his stare pinned him down with a predatory aura that made Sanji physically shiver. 

Internally, he pleaded with himself to concentrate and chanted random cooking recipes he knew by heart in order to forget about the way Zoro had grabbed him. The heat in his eyes as Sanji looked down at him, resisting the urge to give in – to break – was so mouth-wateringly seductive, Sanji nearly floated back into his beckoning hands for more. 

A cigarette or three would be so much more effective right now.

After going through all the recipes he could think of, Sanji successfully recovered enough he was able to think straight again. Trying to play it cool, he fluffed his hair and cracked his neck, rolling it from side to side. He’d give himself a good slap across the face to solidify getting his head back into the game if not for Zoro in the room to question his methods.

All he had to do was take the photo and he would be able to give Zoro what he wanted—what they both wanted. Sanji scanned over every detail one last time, then let out a deep breath to get started.

Pointing off to his left, Sanji said, “Look here with both your eyes and head.” 

Apparently Zoro had learned what that had meant because he moved his head to line up with where Sanji was pointing and followed with his eyes. Sanji smirked. A trainable dog.

With this simple turn, it gave a clear viewing of Zoro’s trademark earrings, an important factor to keep in mind while shooting this particular client. The blue light above him mixed surprisingly well with his dark skin, but also made the gold of his earrings still shine quite bright—perfect. And even though the rim light currently drowned out the eccentric color of his hair, it would look saturated once the green flash behind him went off.

All of these together made for interesting results—ones that Sanji couldn't wait to see. 

Everything was in place – lights, camera, and Zoro – and was ready for the shot to be taken. Sanji snapped the shutter and ducked down to check the viewfinder, but immediately doubled back—returning his gaze to Zoro.

Blinking, Sanji focused his eyes on the afterimage of a shadow lingering over Zoro before his vision once again adjusted to the lighting in the room.

Sanji snapped another photo but didn’t look away so as not to miss anything.

“Whoa…”

When he took another photo without warning, it was Zoro who was furiously blinking this time. Obviously trying not to move from his ordered pose, but also not enjoying a bright light repeatedly going off in his face, Zoro wrinkled his nose and growled, “Been longer than a minute, Curls.”

Just to be a dick – a little payback from all of Zoro’s earlier incessant sexual interupptions – Sanji took another photo. Zoro winced.

“Bear with me, will you?” Sanji said, becoming serious once again. Not waiting for an answer, he moved to try something out. 

Quickly, he made his way around his camera and just about dove for the rim light, much too excited to take his time with such expensive equipment.

“What’re you doing?”

He sounded a bit miffed. Sanji couldn't blame him for being impatient, not after the promise he had made. But his mind was no longer lingering on Zoro’s touch, much more focused on the real reason he was here. 

“Uhh,” Sanji started, not sure how to talk at the moment. His brain only had one thing it wanted to do and that was photography. “Photo.”

“Photo…?” Zoro parroted with a raised eyebrow. His body twisted as it followed Sanji clumsily dragging the large, blue light to the opposite side of Zoro.

Ignoring his confusion, Sanji set the light in place, switching it out with the reverse umbrella, which he set aside. Originally having the majority of Zoro’s face lit up – as was requested of him, these were PR shots, after all – Sanji caught a glimpse of something better he wanted to do—something he needed to do.

Once again getting everything perfect, Sanji returned to stand behind his camera. In his rush, one of his feet caught around a cord, causing him to stumble forward and windmill his arms to catch his balance. Behind him, Zoro snorted, but Sanji let it go. All that mattered was seeing if his vision could come to life.

The lack of retort must have clued Zoro in on how important this moment was for Sanji because his chuckle died out and he seemed to settle, waiting to see what Sanji was up to. He returned to his pose and looked off into the same vague area he was directed, readying himself.

Almost frantically, Sanji snapped the shutter and looked at the viewfinder.

“Oh…” 

The bright light at Zoro’s side showed a burst of blue and blended perfectly with the green flash while leaving Zoro’s face in deep shadow. Though hardly visible and not usable at all for Nami, it still looked as dramatic as Sanji had hoped. And as an added bonus, the gold jewelry hanging from Zoro’s ear shone brightly, showing up as a white starburst on the screen.

“What is it?” Zoro had asked, turning his head.

Sanji’s eyes widened at the sight. 

Upon turning, Zoro revealed half of his face to the light and only a small triangle of his cheek on the opposite side. His sharp cheekbone and strong jaw were accentuated, contrasting in harsh lines and soft curves that made him look impressively attractive. The muscles in his neck looked especially defined, leading in a straight line down to an exposed collarbone, which was just peeking out from the top of his sweater.

But what had Sanji's attention were his eyes. 

The rim light coming directly from the side only allowed for one of them to be lit up, the other showing a small, bluish spec of light reflecting back at him. Sanji felt mesmerized by how intense the scene before him was. With the theatrical colors and lighting, plus Zoro’s gloriously masculine outline, had time slowing down. 

Sanji hadn’t felt this way in a long while.

A fuzzy tingling crept up his spine and tickled the back of his neck, kickstarting his brain to move, but it only acted on instinct—Sanji unable to think for himself. He lifted his hands, not daring to look away, feeling the air in front of him for his camera, cradled it – his finger finding the shutter with pure muscle-memory – and snapped the photo.

The flash behind Zoro burst green and all the shadows went that much darker, blacking out his right side into an empty abyss. His silhouette against the green backdrop was a distinguished cutout, showcasing the other half of him from the split lighting.

Sanji was torn. He didn’t know whether or not to look at the actual living Zoro, watching in real time as each shadow moved over his skin, caressing him differently with every one of his motions… or to stare down at the illuminated screen in front of him at the image he had captured, immortalized forever for him to refer back to whenever he desired.

When Zoro cleared his throat, Sanji was brought back to the present. The photo he just took was nowhere near what Santoryu needed from him. What he had done was purely for his own sake and curiosity—a selfish act when he was currently being paid to do something else, and it was a lot of money.

Masking the wonder and fascination for his passion, Sanji moved on to finish out the gig. The photo captured just now was much too abstract and… and poetic, somehow… to even try to begin explaining what the hell that was all about. The businessman would only have a superficial opinion, not understanding what made him so beautiful to Sanji right now.

“Alright, sorry for the hold up. Let’s do the lighter ones now, ‘kay?”

Zoro swiveled his body to face forward, giving a single nod as he waited. It didn’t take long to change the atmosphere to something more appropriate for Nami’s request. After muting the colors to tone them down and moving a few lights around—the job was done before they knew it.

As soon as they were finished, Zoro hopped off the stool and made a beeline for Sanji, but was stopped by a swiftly raised hand. He skidded to a halt—something Sanji hadn’t expected. There was heat in his eyes, but also a weird amount of patience as he waited for Sanji’s assent.

“One second,” Sanji lifted his camera by way of explanation while pointing to the CEO’s desk, “go sit down.”

Surprisingly, Zoro listened—walking off without complaint.

It seemed the training was working.

Turning back to his camera, Sanji flicked through the photos, double checking there were passable light and dark shots. Once satisfied, he began tearing the room down. He didn’t get very far, though, only able to unplug one light and then Zoro was back to pestering him again.

“Just leave it,” he called out, raising his voice enough that Sanji could hear him across the office.

Figuring Zoro had better things in mind, Sanji agreed, shrugging off the chore of cleaning. He made his way over to Zoro’s desk to see if they planned on leaving soon—maybe another quick fuck in the CEO’s absurdly fancy car before he headed home.

“I forgot to ask, but...” Zoro leaned back in his chair. “How’s your head?”

“My head?” Sanji repeated, perplexed. Zoro lazily twisted in his chair to face him, causing Sanji’s eyes to trail downward. His legs were spread and he leaned his face into his hand, elbow propped on the edge of his desk. Sanji felt his cheeks heat up, no doubt reddening at the unspoken implication.

Zoro gestured with his free hand to hurry him along and answer. 

“Well, if you must know beforehand…” Sanji shyly dropped his gaze to the floor. He brought his arms up and crossed them over his chest with a pout, now sporting an offended frown. “No one’s complained yet.”

Zoro stared.

“Huh?”

Rapidly blinking at him in astonishment, Zoro scrunched his face to scrutinize him. 

“No, you idiot—I meant from the car.” Tapping the top of his head mockingly, he reiterated, “How’s your head?”

Oh.

Sanji brought up a hand to cover his face, a poor attempt to hide from the stupid misunderstanding. That made so much more sense and was way less insulting. The embarrassing memory of hitting his head on both the ceiling and window made him cringe.

Peeking between his fingers, Sanji mumbled out his answer. “It’s—uh. It’s fine. Thanks for asking.”

Zoro rolled his eyes, which was quickly replaced by a mischievous smirk. “But now that you mention it…” This time the implication was clear, his voice dripping with desire. “It is ‘after’ now.”

“Wh-what? Here?” Sanji shrieked, looking around as if others could hear. Zoro nodded, his eyes flicking down to his crotch for emphasis.

How could he ask something so scandalous of him? Zoro wanted him to suck him off right in his office?! He didn’t think they would continue here! 

Zoro returned to resting his cheek in his palm, his smile never fading. Still unsure of how to answer, Sanji opened and closed his mouth to find the right words—to express how ridiculous the idea was! 

Then that damn image of Zoro panting over him came to mind again, and Sanji would be lying if he said he didn’t want to see more of that—he wanted to be the reason Zoro came undone.

Zoro’s other hand twisted up and he curled his fingers, beckoning him closer.

Sanji swallowed, filled with lust. Glancing at the door to make sure it was indeed shut, Sanji gave in with a defeated sigh, but couldn’t hide the creeping, devious smirk curling the corner of his lips. The thought alone of getting to taste Zoro was already riling him up, and he knew he could skillfully finish him off quickly.

Loosening the knot in his bowtie, he closed the distance between them. 

“Alright, then,” he said and got to his knees.

~

Threading his hand through Sanji’s golden curls, Zoro regretted not appreciating it the first time he’d gotten the photographer alone and in a compromising position. His hair was delightfully soft – slipped between his fingers effortlessly – and was just the right length to tangle in a sturdy grasp. Keeping Sanji in place as he made good on his promise.

On his knees – slotted perfectly between Zoro’s thighs – head bobbing diligently and his mouth stretched around Zoro’s aching length. His pace was perfect. Working it just right so Zoro didn’t need to guide him beyond the occasional tug of encouragement to let the photographer know he was doing good.

Actually, a far cry better than good.

Every movement of his mouth was perfectly timed, the softness of his lips making Zoro’s length twitch. His tongue was as talented as his remarks were sharp and quick witted. Flicking at just the right spot, rippling in just the right way, dragging along Zoro’s cock just right to make him cant his hips up and silently beg for more—Zoro didn’t beg, but...

There was a way about how Sanji went about it – almost an irritation – a spitefulness rather than a desire to please. Like he needed to prove a point. Maybe Nami was right, maybe there was something wrong with him, but Sanji got that fiery determination on his face and Zoro couldn’t help but thrive off of it. Everything about it was so polarizing and addicting.

This was hardly the first fling he’d had in his office, but none of them were Sanji; they often were too eager to please, too desperate, too needy . Sanji, however… It was like he was trying to bully him into completion. His angry determination felt like if he could bring Zoro to orgasm by kicking him square in the chest he’d be the first in line.

And Zoro would let him.

Clenching his other hand into a fist on his desk, Zoro refrained from carding it through his own hair out of desperation. He couldn’t let Sanji know he was affecting him like this—couldn’t let him win. It was already too much that Sanji’s cocky attitude was doing him in, never mind that he was reeling with how quickly Sanji could get him like this.

It wasn’t long after that Zoro felt himself getting close, and Sanji sensed it—pulling off and gripping the base of Zoro’s throbbing member in his hand. Zoro would’ve been irritated by the audacity if it was anyone other than Sanji. So, instead, he schooled his features to make sure he didn’t give too much away and glanced down at the smarmy photographer.

A smirk tugged at Sanji’s swollen lips—Zoro’s hand visibly twitched on the desk to refrain from reaching out just to drag his fingers through the saliva still glistening there. He resisted, and stared down as Sanji arched a brow. Slowly continuing his lethargic stroking of Zoro’s length, but not making a move to do anything else—an expectant look dancing humorously across his face.

Zoro stayed silent. Stubborn.

Patience wearing thin, Sanji’s teasing look vanished and he pointedly squeezed the base of Zoro’s cock in a punishing grip. Zoro’s eyes narrowed, Sanji’s did the same. They had a momentary stalemate until Zoro realized he was only tormenting himself and gave in.

“Okay.” Zoro groaned, “No complaints.”

Smirking victoriously, Sanji dipped his head back down and took Zoro back into his mouth—setting up his previous pace. This time his hands traveled up from where they had been massaging Zoro’s thighs and traced greedily up his torso. They stopped at Zoro’s chest – and just like in the car – began squeezing possessively; a moan actually slipped out of the photographer as he did so.

Zoro swallowed thickly.

At the sound of the door opening, both men stilled before springing into motion; Sanji’s hands shot down while Zoro’s came up to rest innocently on the desk as he pretended to work. With a quick slide forward on his chair, Zoro shoved the photographer under the desk and out of sight. He minutely heard Sanji gag a little by the sudden motion—the limited space under the desk kept him stuck on Zoro’s cock. It only took a moment for Sanji to adjust – breathing through his nose softly – but the irritation from him was palpable.

Pulling up some coding work on his laptop, Zoro pretended to be busy while trying to remember what he had even been working on as Nami made her way into the office completely unaware. Zoro met the secretary’s gaze calmly. Ignoring the way Sanji’s mouth was wrapped around his cock – motionless, yet hot – a trail of saliva slowly slipped down the underside of his length and over his sack to pool on his chair.

Sanji’s nervous exhales tickling the mess of curls at the base of Zoro’s cock.

Coming just shy of the desk, Nami took a long gander about the room – as though enjoying herself – before finally leveling her gaze on Zoro. Her pout was the furthest thing sympathetic. Arms crossing with a smug tilt, Nami finally scoffed, “Rejected again, huh?”

Zoro sat for a moment in the irony of it all.

“Appears so,” he finally grunted.

Hopefully Nami would keep her gloating to a minimum so she would leave and Zoro could get back to more pressing matters. Like pressing his cock against the back of Sanji’s throat. For all his skill with his mouth and tongue, Zoro couldn’t fault the photographer, but he was itching to get his hands back in that silky hair and properly fuck that smarmy, talkative mouth—really drive the point home.

“Must be annoying to know you can't get him.” 

Zoro could feel the twitch of Sanji’s smug smile around his cock.

“...yeah.”

Without prompting, Sanji began to return to the task at hand – well, at mouth – working as silently as possible. That initiative alone had Zoro swooning; he’d managed to catch a smart one. Nothing worse than dealing with a partner that needed instructions every step of the way—it was probably part of the reason Sanji had been so appealing from the very beginning.

Zoro did his best to hide his smile, casually bracing a hand across his mouth while looking at Nami.

Unable to work as fast and loud as he previously had, Sanji was forced instead to move at a very measured pace while focusing more on his technique and getting Zoro as deep as possible without a sound. He was doing a phenomenal job. Every time the head of his cock grazed the velvety back of Sanji’s throat he was forced to bite down an eager moan; he desperately wanted to find out how deep he could go.

“Bet you want him even more now, but you're afraid of another knee to the balls.”

“Something like that.”

Another smile twitched Sanji’s lips.

“You going to go out again? Try to forget about him?”

Zoro could feel the curiosity leeching off the photographer.

“Nope,” Zoro muttered, “Think I’ll just stay late and work.”

Not getting the rise from Zoro that she was hoping for, Nami switched up her tactics and came forward to lean a hip against the desk. Zoro’s eyes dropped for a moment – warily – then back up. There was a mischievousness in her eyes that he didn’t like, but he decided the less he moved and said, the better.

“Speaking of Sanji,” Nami segued, and Zoro could feel Sanji still at the mention of his name, “Did you apologize like I asked?”

“Yeah.” For a moment Zoro wondered if there was anything she could possibly say that would irritate Sanji enough to reveal him—he couldn’t think of anything, but there was no telling what he might’ve done wrong. Cautious, Zoro’s eyes narrowed, “Why?”

“Were you sincere?”

“Yeah,” Zoro echoed, “ why ?”

“I think we should hire him for freelance work. He does a good job, and somehow your attitude didn’t get him to quit.”

Sanji smirked around Zoro’s cock.

“Fine.”

“‘Fine.’?” Nami scoffed, “Just ‘Fine.’?”

“Yes!”

“Why are you being so agreeable?”

“Fuckin’ Roger’s left nutsack, woman.” Exhaling the curse—Zoro’s patience was wearing thin, “What do you want me to say?”

Getting teased mercilessly by Sanji while also being interrogated relentlessly by Nami was breaking him down. He rubbed at his brow in an attempt to calm himself. However, at Zoro’s cuss, Sanji’s teeth grazed in warning, causing Zoro to slam his fist down on the desk out of sheer instinct—thankfully covering the sound of Sanji’s head hitting the desk when Zoro jumped.

“Oh?” Nami smirked devilishly, “Have I hit a nerve?”

“No,” Zoro growled.

“Then what’s got you so cooperative?” Nami huffed, “Only time you’re so quick to get me to leave is when–”

Nami’s face went deadly calm.

“He’s under the desk, isn’t he?”

Zoro nodded stiffly—knowing the jig was up.

Absolute betrayal warped Nami’s face before settling into resigned acceptance—this wasn’t the first time. Zoro had thought she’d learn by now. Regardless, Zoro sat patiently stuck between his rock and his hard place – literally – awaiting whatever beratement she had in store for him. Slowly clasping her hands in front of herself, Nami spoke loudly so Sanji could hear, but stared daggers directly into Zoro’s soul.

“Sanji, darling, I want you to know I don’t blame you; I blame him.” Pausing to collect herself, Nami let out a controlled sigh before adding, “But I am disappointed in both of you.”

She then turned and strode from the room.

There was a long pause after her departure before Zoro slowly pushed his chair back to let Sanji out from under the desk, and hid his disappointment when Sanji pulled away and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He rose to his feet. Blush on his face a brilliant red at getting caught, and Zoro had to admit that the photographer was even cuter flustered than he was snarky.

“She won’t come back.” Zoro attempted to persuade Sanji, “We can finish.”

Reaching out for the photographer, Zoro hooked his fingers in the fabric of the zipfly and hauled Sanji close until he stood straddling one of Zoro’s thighs. He allowed himself to be moved but actively leaned away. Mortification awash on his face, even ignoring as Zoro dragged a hand up a thigh to cup Sanji’s rear.

“No fucking way! I am mortified !” Sanji didn’t pull away, but he did cover his face with his hands and lament, “How can I ever look her in the eye again?!”

Zoro slid his hand further until it was between the photographer's thighs – finger tracing the seam – he shrugged, “She’s used to it.”

Not directed at Zoro, Sanji muttered into his hands, “I am so embarrassed.”

When it became clear Sanji’s overt-dramatascism was going to continue distracting from Zoro’s advances, he decided on something less subtle. He gave a sharp jerk, and hauled the photographer into his lap. Thankfully, it did the trick and Sanji’s hands came to brace on the back of the chair as he snapped, “What?!”

Hand releasing Sanji’s fly, Zoro turned to palm the photographer’s erection currently straining through his hideous corduroy pants. It was unbelievably arousing that being on his knees had gotten Sanji so riled up—regardless of any sort of interruption from Nami—and Zoro wanted to return the favor. And then some.

Sanji groaned at the touch before stifling himself.

Giving another teasing stroke through the soft fabric—a promise of more—Zoro titled his head back to look up at the blushing photographer. His gaze flicked to Sanji’s swollen lips pressed into a thin line, already wanting more. Stifling his own eager groan, Zoro’s hand tightened around Sanji’s waist and fought down the urge to tackle the photographer back onto his desk.

“Your choice: I can bend you over my desk now,” Zoro warned, his courtesy undercut by his growl, “or you can come home with me to a proper bed; either way, I’m getting inside you.”

Sanji’s gaze flicked to the door, then back to Zoro—pupils blown wide with arousal.

TBC…

Chapter Text

tube•rose (ˈtubˌroʊz) - dangerous pleasures

~

The streets of downtown zipped by as the two of them headed out of the heart of Abustele. Sanji looked out the window, watching the people on the wide sidewalk go about their ordinary lives as he was on his way to get his brains fucked out by one of the richest men in the world.

They were in a different car than Friday night, though just as sleek and expensive as the last. The inside still had that new car smell—not a speck of dust on the dash or a single fluff of lint on the seats. Clean, pristine, and presentable—but nothing less for the greatest, right?

Sanji couldn’t believe he was hanging out with a spoiled brat. One good fuck was all it took for him to cave – just one! – and he was already willingly getting on his knees for Zoro right in his office—and he only needed to point.  

With an annoyed huff, Sanji rolled his eyes and wondered if he’d even be surprised to see another bottle of lube in the glove compartment of this car, too. He already knew the answer but he had to confirm. Popping the glove box open, Sanji rummaged around.

“Seriously?” he said, holding the same brand of lube up. “Are these in all of your cars?!”

“I distinctly remember you saying you weren’t complainin’,” Zoro jeered, leaning closer to give a knowing smirk before correcting himself. “Or I guess moaned. ”

“Oh, shut the hell up, you—” 

Sanji stopped short, words cut off by the sound of tires screeching. Zoro had stepped on the gas to pass someone in front of them. Sanji grabbed the handle above the door and tensed up – his other hand gripping the bottle of lube, nearly popping open – until they were safely around them.

Sensing his distress as he weaved in and out of traffic, Zoro purred, “Relax, Curly~”

“I am relaxed!” Sanji frantically settled back into his seat, wiping his suddenly sweaty hands against his corduroys. “Just worried you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Didn’t I say not to complain about my driving?”

“I coulda biked to your place—I offered, even!”

Humming as he tilted his head side to side, Zoro pretended to rethink his earlier decision. “Nah, too slow. This is much faster.”

“Yeah,” Sanji mumbled, returning to look out the window. “That’s the issue.”

They didn’t talk after that, the radio filling in where conversation lacked. Neither spoke and Sanji appreciated Zoro not forcing any idle chit-chat.

Although—Sanji almost broke that peace. Briefly glancing at the navigation screen for a third time, Sanji watched the little dot follow the designated path, bringing them to whatever destination Zoro had punched in. Where were they headed, if not back to Zoro’s place?

They drove further than Sanji thought they’d go. They went well out of the city, through the suburbs until the houses thinned out, each getting larger and larger as they continued. Seeing the massive mansions made Sanji wonder just how big the place they were going would compare. But Zoro didn’t turn into any of them, instead, he progressed on until there were fewer homes and more trees.

They finally turned into a secluded driveway, hidden beneath thick, luscious greenery, and stopped in front of a steel gate. Sanji scoffed in surprise, fully expecting it to be ostentatious. But it was just a simple, automatic gate that kept Zoro’s privacy from the rest of the world.

Shifting in his seat, Sanji looked over to Zoro. “Uhm. Where are we?”

“My place?” Zoro questioned without returning his gaze.

Sanji’s eyes flicked to the screen again, wondering why the mapping system had been activated. But the gate opened and Zoro drove on, so Sanji brushed it off.

The long driveway was smoothly paved and cast in shadow from hundreds of trees curving across, encircling them in a tunnel of nature. Sanji sat forward to see out the windshield, looking up as each twisted tree branch passed over them, their branches entwining together to lock them under their canopy. Chest tightening, a longing ache swelled within for all the potential opportunities of photographs he could take. He nearly asked Zoro to stop so he could.

After rounding another bend in the path, Zoro’s home came into view as it emerged from the shadows of the trees. Sanji let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding. The house was much smaller than he expected—and it wasn’t that Sanji was disappointed! In fact, he was relieved to see Zoro lived much more humbly than he had predicted. 

But it didn’t mean his place was anything less than monstrous. It was still huge.

Also – surprisingly – very gorgeous. Sanji could easily appreciate the shrubbery hugging the walls of the mansion and spreading across the lawn to give it layered dimension. 

There were three main facades to the front of the house. Each held its own massive pane of glass in a wooden frame, stained a few shades darker than the walls holding it in. Wrapping around the building was a narrow deck, just large enough for two people to walk down, sheltered by a slanted overhang off the second story. Tall grass planted at the edges of the deck flowed in waves as the wind blew through it.

“It’s, uh…” Sanji tried, trailing off. He couldn’t decide on how to describe what he thought.

Expecting sharp corners, beige stucco, and an endless, flat lawn manicured perfectly into boring stripes, Sanji gawked with surprise. There were no stone fountains making unnecessary statements in the middle of the driveway—no squared off bushes lining the outer edge of the property—not a single massive, granite column to hold the house up. 

It was warm. Inviting.

“It’s nice,” he finally decided on.

And it really was. Although secluded from the outside world, tucked away in a thick forest, it still felt welcoming. The simplicity of the security gate now made sense after taking in the rest of the estate.

“That’s it?” Zoro scoffed, “You typically have something more scathing to say than that ,” he said. 

As they neared the house, Zoro didn’t slow his speed. Close enough, one of the four garage doors began to lift automatically, sensing their approach. “Only four cars?” Sanji asked. There was no way that was all he had.

“Three, actually.”

Sanji turned to look at him, watching the straight shadow cut across his face as the door closed, leaving them in darkness. “Three?!”

“Just the ones that matter, at least. These three stay home with me.” 

“What’s the extra stall for?”

Once the door hit the ground, the entire garage automatically lit up. Zoro turned the car off and they got out. Leaning over the top and flicking his head to the far end, Zoro said with a smile, “Bikes.”

Sure enough, there were two crotch rockets and a motorcycle evenly spaced apart. Everything was so… shiny.

Sanji turned back around to ask, “Where are the rest of your cars, then?”

Shrugging, Zoro waved a dismissive hand in the air. “I dunno. Most are parked down at Santoryu. A few at the surrounding airports. The rest are… around.”

Unsure of what to make of that vague statement, Sanji pressed his lips into a thin line, raised his eyebrows, and gave a curt nod. “Cool.”

“You don’t seem impressed.”

“Cause I’m not,” Sanji said, speaking the truth. The rich life really wasn’t his thing—and that included vehicles. Lots of people were into cars, but not Sanji.

Zoro chuckled while shaking his head before looking upward at the ceiling. “Hey, Lily? Let Conis know I’m back.”

“Okay,” a cool voice from above confirmed. “Telling Conis you’ve arrived now.”

Sanji raised his eyebrows, astonished he’d use – let alone own – a competitive brand’s product. “You have an Amazon Lily?”

“Not for long,” Zoro muttered, then gestured for Sanji to follow.

The side door opened up to the main entrance of the house, a wide and open space where the two-story windows let in all the evening sun. Zoro tossed his key fob into a basket on a small side table before leading Sanji deeper into the home. 

Zoro gave a half-hearted point over to the right to mumble, “Kitchen, sitting area,” and continued on. The kitchen was luxurious, spacious, and beautiful. Looked to have the latest and greatest tech and appliances, a large dining table off to the side, and between the two were French doors that led out onto a patio—something Sanji wanted to see more of but Zoro was currently disappearing down a hall!

Growling with annoyance, Sanji trotted after him once he set his backpack down under the table. There was so much to take in, he felt rushed to react to it all. 

Zoro leaned into a room and flicked a switch on. “One of the downstairs bathrooms.” 

Sanji barely got a glimpse inside before the light was switched off and Zoro was crossing to the other side of the hall. A door with a frosted glass pane let light through to the hallway. Zoro stopped in front of it to make sure Sanji was behind him, then opened it up to step inside. 

“My favorite room in the house,” Zoro said with a light laugh, spreading his arms out to the side to gesture around. The floormats muffled his footsteps as he walked backward. Sanji stood in the doorway—not wanting to intrude. 

The bright space was larger than Sanji’s entire loft. Mounted along one wall was a rack of wooden swords and a tall basket below housing another type of stick-like weapon. The other side looked to have real swords—the entire wall completely covered! Sanji’s couldn’t believe how many swords one person could own. 

Behind Zoro were sliding glass doors that led out into a courtyard garden, more of the house visible on the other side. Sanji took a step onto the mat just as Zoro was heading toward him. Both of his hands came up to grab him at his shoulder and turn him around, forcing him out of the room.

“Oi!” Sanji yelled, shoes sliding across the floor as he flailed in Zoro’s hold. “I wanted to go out there!”

“Nope. Later. Wanna show you something important.”

Sanji eased up after hearing that, curious. Zoro gently shut the door and headed back the way they came, toward the main entrance. Suddenly, Sanji got a whiff of chlorine. He looked behind him and saw the hallway turned to the right. Peeking over his shoulder, Sanji checked for Zoro – and seeing he wasn’t there to stop him – he leaned around the corner. 

The chlorine smell was even stronger now. The hallway had windows on both sides; one facing outside, and the other looked like it belonged to the courtyard connected to the training room, he guessed. At the end were glass double doors. There definitely had to be a pool there.

“You comin’?” Zoro shouted from up front. 

Sanji quickly ran after, seeing he was at the foot of the stairs waiting for him. He took in the view going up, burning a hole into Zoro’s ass with each step he climbed. Jeans hugged just tight enough to tempt Sanji to reach out and grab. Hand outstretched… inches away… 

“Lily didn’t tell me you had company,” a feminine voice said, breathy and soft.

Sanji yanked his hand back and looked around Zoro as they neared the top.

A petite, young blonde woman moved to the side to give them room and tilted her head down for a shallow bow.

“This is Conis, my housekeeper.” Zoro thumbed over his shoulder and added, “This is Sanji.”

“Hello, my dear,” Sanji greeted with a dazzling smile and returned the bow, although much deeper.

Conis smiled back, smoothing over the front of her pink dress as she said hello and properly introduced herself. They exchanged a few more words until she turned to Zoro again. “Dinner for two, then?”

“No, it’s alright. We’ll order something.” Zoro pulled Sanji forward by the waist to begin shoving him down the hallway—forcing many complaints out of him. “In fact, you can head home for the night. We’ll see you in the morning.”

“Of course. Goodnight, Zoro. Sanji.”

He said his thanks and goodbyes and was back to pushing Sanji down the hall, guiding him by the shoulders. 

“Oi, you fuckin’ brat! Will you quit?! I can walk on my own!”

They passed several doors, one where Zoro pointed out another bathroom, and then stopped in front of one at the very end of the hallway. Zoro dropped his hands.

Suspicious, Sanji turned around. “And this is…?”

“The important thing I wanted to show you.”

Sanji slowly closed his eyes, unable to stop a smirk from forming. “Let me guess—it’s your bedroom?”

Zoro smirked.

~

Door slamming shut—Zoro’s back thudded against the wood, and a breathy chuckle was forced out of him that was quickly stifled by impatient lips. Sanji slotted against him flawlessly. Hands tangled at the collar of Zoro’s hoodie—dragging him down—while a leg was already hooked eagerly around his hip to pull them closer. Their matching arousals rubbed together through far too many layers of fabric.

Sanji gasped—tongue flicking against Zoro’s.

Hands dragging down Sanji’s body, Zoro slid them under Sanji’s thighs and without a word, hiked the photographer up for him to snap his legs around Zoro’s waist. Sanji did it effortlessly. Whining into Zoro’s mouth at the new angle – craning Zoro’s neck back to kiss him harder – his hips jerked under Zoro’s hands as he rolled his growing erection against Zoro’s hard body.

Shoving off the door and making his way across the room, Zoro relished the sensation of Sanji rocking into him with every step—loving the moans that were huffed against his lips. He reached the foot of the bed and paused. Returning Sanji’s feverish kisses for a long moment before tackling the slighter man into the bed and setting about removing his clothes.

A hand slid down Sanji’s calve to hook over his heel, jerking off one of the ridiculous white loafers and hucking it over his shoulder. Repeating the motion with the other and ignoring the sound of it knocking something over. Hands quickly fell to Sanji’s paisley shirt – this time giving no illusion to his intentions – as he slotted his fingers between the buttons and jerked it open.

Buttons scattered noisily across the floor.

“Stop wrecking my clothes!”

Sanji’s hand lashed out for Zoro’s jaw.

Snagging the wrist before Sanji had a chance to touch him – having humored the photographer long enough – Zoro spun Sanji around and pinned his arm across his body. Kneeling on the bed with his back flush against Zoro’s chest. Surprise lanced through Sanji’s body – too shocked to protest – he tugged on his wrist, and when Zoro’s hand tightened in response, he finally accepted what was happening.

“–the fuck is your problem?”

Fingers of his free hand caressed Sanji’s cheek – dancing over the light stubble – before replicating Sanji’s grip on his jaw from the other night and forcing Sanji to look over his shoulder at him. Sanji’s teeth were bared, but the arousal blowing out his pupils belied it—just the barest ring of crackling blue. An obvious flush was creeping up Sanji’s neck, and Zoro could feel the excitement trembling throughout his body.

“What do you–”

Zoro’s eyes fell shut.

Nose drawing along the sharp line of Sanji’s jaw and up to his ear, lips baring as he huffed a playful laugh against the shell. Teeth nipping gently. He took a heady inhale of the strange floral aroma from Sanji that riddled his senses before murmuring.

“I let you have your fun last time…”

Zoro groaned—the memory alone made his cock swell.

Remembering how in control and forceful Sanji had been was invigorating, but not this time—he fully intended to take advantage of not being stuck in that cramped car. His hips rocked forward and he slotted his thickening member against Sanji’s ass. Giving an insistent press – threatening – reminding Sanji of what had been in him, and what was going to be inside of him very soon.

His eyes slid open.

Finding Sanji still glaring up at him with those expressive eyes, but there wasn’t fear—just challenge. He stroked his thumb teasingly across Sanji's cheek. Murmuring with a smile, “It’s my turn now.”

“Gotta admit…” Huffing, Sanji held Zoro’s gaze for a beat and then gave a taunting smirk, “Not impressed.”

Zoro chuckled—he expected no less from the obstinate photographer.

“That’s fine~”

Nuzzling against the soft hair just behind Sanji’s ear, Zoro made sure to mutter the words softly – playfully – as he gave a final squeeze before releasing his jaw. He kept Sanji in place with that firm hold on his wrist. His other hand dragged down Sanji’s body possessively—he’d only had it once but already he was memorizing it.

Tight and lean – the perfect amount of muscle – body feverishly warm to match that fiery temper of his, and his skin addictively soft. Narrow hips that fit gloriously under his hand. Long legs that Zoro desperately wanted to feel wrapped around him properly as he fucked that perfect ass into his bed.

Dipping further – past a sharp hip bone, and down the dusting of a treasure trail – Zoro’s hand palmed Sanji aggressively through his pants—the hardness there belying his attitude. He gave an eager squeeze and refrained from chuckling at Sanji’s poorly stifled moan as he squirmed under him. Pausing for a beat to enjoy Sanji’s frustration before cradling his hand firmly against Sanji’s confined erection and lifting him off his knees until all that was left was Sanji’s hand braced against the mattress.

Forcing Sanji’s legs to spread wider as they straddled Zoro’s thighs and he began grinding his hips – holding Sanji against him – using him. Rocking Sanji back to pointedly thrust his cock along the tight line of those ridiculous mustard yellow jeans that he was tempted to rip off just like the shirt.

Zoro growled in Sanji’s ear.

“I like a challenge…”

“Good.” Despite the position, Sanji remained unperturbed, “Cause I won’t make this easy.”

Zoro chuckled—this was going to be fun.

Letting go of Sanji completely and dropping the photographer onto the bed, Zoro leaned back on his haunches and watched as Sanji quickly turned over to brace himself on his elbows. There was a disgruntled curl to his lip. Hair dipping into his eyes before being blown out of the way by a sharp puff.

They continued their stare off—and Zoro took the opportunity to look his fill. Drinking in the sight of Sanji’s gorgeously flushed cheeks, and the shirt hanging open revealing the marks that he’d left the other day – darker and more full – body spread out on the bed just for him.

Zoro felt another ache of arousal rock through him.

Bracing a hand on the bed near Sanji’s waist, Zoro crawled forward and bore down on the smaller man who already bore tags of his ownership. Halting over top of Sanji, Zoro dropped a hand to his chest—easing him back. Following after until he was curled over him. Fingers still caressing soft skin, and his lips inches away from Sanji’s when a feral grin split his face.

“I’m going to fuck you hard .” Zoro crooned, “And you’re going to like it.”

“Oh, will I?” Gorgeous, messy hair fell into his eyes again, and Sanji absently flicked it to the side before smirking up at Zoro and taunting, “Try not to bore me.”

“Do you ever stop talking?”

Sanji lifted his chin cockily, “Not without good reason.”

“I’ll give you one.”

Levering himself off the bed in a smooth motion, Zoro wrestled his hoodie and shirt off before tossing them aside—baring himself. Not missing the way Sanji’s gaze immediately fell to stare. Unabashedly taking Zoro in, sprawled as confidently as he was on the massive bed that you could almost believe it belonged to him.

Hands dropping to his jeans, Zoro began working the fly open and had to fight back a smug chuckle when Sanji’s gaze followed again. He was too predictable. It was going to be a lot of fun putting him in his place—hooking his thumb in the briefs to force them down, Zoro pulled his member free and let it bob readily between his thighs.

Sanji stared, and then muttered softly, “Oh, sweet Joy Boy.”

Zoro smirked.

“C’mere.”

Purring the order over a growl, Zoro’s hand dropped to Sanji’s ankle and used the distraction to his advantage; dragging him to the edge of the bed and tangling his fingers through that mess of curly blond hair—returning the hair-pulling favor. He hauled Sanji up so he was sitting and then stepped in close so that his legs bracketed the smaller man. Body humming in excitement as Sanji craned his neck back to look up at him. By no means shying away, but also not willing to tell Zoro off.

Zoro liked the stubbornness.

Leaving one hand in that mess of hair, his other hand curled around the base of his cock. Holding it menacingly in front of Sanji—slapping the head against those pink, kiss-swollen lips.

Surprisingly, and a little patronizing, Sanji acquiesced and stuck his tongue out—clearly sarcastic as he looked up expectantly.

Zoro was going to make him regret that.

Smacking it against Sanji’s tongue a few times before releasing the base and letting it rest heavily against Sanji’s parted lips—tip of the head already buzzing at the hot touch. He had to fight back the urge to just force it in. Easing up on the hair, Zoro carded his hand through the soft strands a few times before resting noncommittally—fingers stroking patiently as he allowed Sanji to set his own pace.

Sanji got the hint and those blue eyes flicked down.

His hand replaced Zoro’s at the base. Holding loosely as his tongue darted out across the head before quickly following with a kiss—velvety suck making Zoro’s toes curl. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from doing something stupid.

After a bit more teasing – hand stroking the base, tongue working the head with salacious flicks – Sanji finally gave in. A moment later he was swallowing the length with a hum. Greedily sucking Zoro down, Sanji embraced the task like it was doing him a favor—pleasured moans vibrating sinfully. Sitting on the edge of the bed – hand reaching around to grab Zoro’s ass and haul him in – pulling Zoro into his face.

Zoro groaned—Sanji didn’t disappoint.

Slipping his hand to cup the back of Sanji’s head, the other hand came to rest encouragingly under his chin. Thumb stroking his jaw. Starting up a slow rhythm with his hips – letting Sanji adjust – before getting a little rougher. Testing just how much Sanji was able to take.

A needy whimper was the answer.

Gaze falling down to find Sanji staring up at him – cheeks ruddy, lips stretched obscenely – big, blue eyes awash with arousal. Zoro had to let out a controlled breath. Urge to just start slamming away at Sanji’s mouth painfully overwhelming, cock twitching against Sanji’s lips at the very thought. He needed more.

Halting his movements to drag Sanji as deep as he could, Zoro forced Sanji in until his lips kissed the base of his cock. Nose shoved into the dark mass of curls. Holding Sanji there with a punishing grip before easing to once more work himself slowly in and out of Sanji’s dripping mouth.

“Mmm.” Forcing out a heady groan in an attempt to restrain himself, Zoro tilted his head and drew his tongue over his lower lip. Followed by a hard bite. That blissed-out expression was a wonderful contrast to the earlier stubbornness – little by little, destroying Zoro’s restraint – hips canting forward as he groaned, “Let’s try a little deeper, yeah?”

Sanji objected with a small groan.

“Shh…”

Hand stroking through Sanji’s hair, Zoro shushed him with a soothing croon and a reassuring squeeze. Fingers curling encouragingly at Sanji’s jaw. Slowing his thrusts until he was seated as deep as Sanji would allow—engorged head pressing against his unyielding throat. Pinching Sanji’s jaw to keep his mouth open and those teeth from grazing his length, Zoro’s other hand slid through blond hair and returned to cup the back of Sanji’s head.

Despite Sanji’s nervous whines his arms were curled around Zoro’s waist—hands gripping Zoro’s jeans in the bunched, eager mess.

“Breathe—deep.”

An achingly slow breath trembled through Sanji.

Holding Sanji in place, Zoro waited until he could feel the tension starting to drain from Sanji and the nervousness in his jaw eased off.

“Exhale,” Zoro commanded—then corrected, “Slowly.”

As he sighed out, his body relaxed and Zoro pulled Sanji forward. 

“Theeere you go...” Zoro crooned approvingly—that tension in Sanji’s throat gave out, and Zoro felt the head of his cock pop past that barrier. Shifting deeper – tight and hot – the fluttering of Sanji’s throat around him a gloriously powerful ecstasy.

Those blue eyes were sparkling from the strain—unshed tears clinging to his lashes as they flicked up to Zoro. Face flushed with arousal—lips glistening. A trembling started in his hands as he gripped Zoro’s jeans tighter and struggled to accommodate the girth. Persevering on stubbornness alone.

“Look at you~” Praising the photographer with a heady groan, he started fucking into Sanji’s mouth – just rocking – pumping the head of his cock down his throat until he could see Sanji reaching his limit. “Good boy.”

Just as Sanji’s eyes started to roll back, Zoro pulled out.

Slumping into Zoro with an arduous groan, Sanji took a grateful inhale while Zoro watched complacently. Wet dick bobbing against Sanji’s cheek. Enjoying the show while running a commending hand through Sanji’s hair until the photographer had caught his breath enough to lift his head and open his mouth.

And without complaint… Zoro arched a brow.

Thrusting back in, Zoro pumped a few times into Sanji’s sloppy mouth before pressing deeper. This time Sanji readily opened his throat and Zoro slid in without resistance. It was still tight, but Sanji relaxed just enough to let Zoro move freely and he couldn’t help the smile that curled his lips at how quickly the photographer could be taught—he’d picked a good one.

“No snippy comment?” Zoro taunted—hand tightening as he thrust his cock once to make a point, “Guess that’s a good enough reason, huh?”

A spark of irritation flashed in Sanji’s eyes—he started pulling back.

“Ah–ah.,” Zoro denied with a quick shake. Hand clamping down on the back of Sanji’s neck, “No you don’t.”

Fire ignited in Sanji’s eyes, and the hands that clung to the waistband of Zoro’s jeans tightened to a threatening degree. Playful, but dangerous. A warning was clear in his eyes, and Zoro returned it with an expecting look—daring him.

Sanji took the bait.

Teeth ever-so-gently grazing the skin at the base – Zoro had to muscle down the knee-jerk response to rip Sanji off him – his hand retracted in Sanji’s hair. Returning Sanji’s glare with a cautionary look—both of them refusing to budge from their stalemate. That stubbornness reared its head as Sanji refused to give in, even when it was clear he wasn’t going to be able to hold his breath for much longer.

Zoro momentarily debated pettiness before conceding.

Relaxing his hold in Sanji’s hair, he allowed Sanji to pull off and catch his breath for a second time. Tilting his head, Zoro’s tone was dry, “Has anyone told you that you’re fuckin’ stubborn?”
Through violent panting, Sanji managed with a feral snarl, “Thought you liked a challenge?”

“Next time, I’ll let you choke.”

“Then expect more teeth.”

Zoro stilled around a petty response.

Gaze flicking down to his neglected length before deciding to let the whole thing go in favor of a much better way of shutting the photographer up. Zoro gave in with a charming smile and lazily shrug. Allowing Sanji to believe he’d won their little banter, only to be rewarded by the return of that sinful mouth around his leaking cock.

Smug in his delusional victory, Sanji quickly set to work as Zoro rolled his eyes at the far too easy win. He let Sanji have his way for a minute or two before taking control once more. A bit more tactful in his endeavor this time so as not to arouse suspicion as he got steadily more and more aggressive, but only taking it so far as to not garner a complaint.

It wasn’t long before he had both hands cupping the back of Sanji’s head. Hips pumping as he abused that bratty mouth. Making sure to drive himself deep with every thrust – punching the back of Sanji’s throat – those muffled moans of pleasure fueling him—Sanji actually enjoying the treatment.

A shiver rolled up Zoro’s spine and he knew he wasn’t going to last for very long—not with Sanji behaving like he was. Taking Zoro down like a champ. Clearly enjoying himself. Zoro gave up on stifling his harsh grunts – baring his teeth around every exhale – violently chasing his release.

Spurred on by Sanji’s encouraging hands on his ass, pulling him in, he could feel himself on the brink. Thighs starting to tremble – balls beginning to tighten – a euphoria already washing through his body as he knew what to expect.

Tapping two fingers to give Sanji warning, Zoro groaned, “Ready, Curly?”

Sanji’s muted moan of agreeance tipped Zoro over.

Hips snapping forward a final time, Zoro pinned himself to Sanji’s mouth – forcing himself all the way inside – spilling down the back of Sanji’s throat with long, heavy pulses. Throbbing in Sanji’s mouth. Most of it getting swallowed, but some coming out to drip from Sanji’s swollen lips.

One of Sanji’s hands came up to grab at Zoro’s chest desperately – nails biting in the skin – trying to find anything to hold onto to help him through. Zoro let go and placed a hand over Sanji’s. Pinning his hand to his chest with a reassuring squeeze as his grip at Sanji’s nape held tight through the last twitches of his orgasm—fighting to keep his eyes open to watch Sanji struggle to swallow around his cock.

“You got it,” Zoro purred. “Swallow it all.”

Eyes scrunched shut as he focused on getting Zoro through, Sanji’s throat quivering – helping to milk the last of Zoro’s cum – before Zoro decided he’d done enough and he pulled Sanji off of him.

Still holding Sanji up by the hand on his chest, and the one hooked commandingly at the back of his skull. Zoro watched as his dick slid out of Sanji’s abused mouth and the man started coughing. Heaving in gulps of air.

Zoro jeered.

“Have fun choking?”

Struggling around a gurgled cough, Sanji managed to swallow most of the remaining cum and panted defiantly, “Fuck… you.”

Zoro couldn’t stop himself from laughing—he reached out to grab the pigheaded photographer.

Cradling Sanji’s face in his hands – that punch-drunk expression sinfully attractive – Zoro gazed down as Sanji licked some of the excess mess from his lower lip and worked to swallow around heavy gasps. Already, Zoro could feel himself stiffening again. Tilting Sanji’s head back, Zoro leaned down to slant his lips hungrily across Sanji’s to taste himself on the other man.

A hand came up to cling to Zoro’s wrist—could feel the need in the grasp.

Ending the kiss with a final, tender suck, Zoro pulled away and took one last reverent look into those avid eyes. Still lustful and ready—and just a little desperate. That expression had Zoro aching to return the favor.

“Alright.”

Reassuring Sanji with a tender groan, Zoro pressed a chaste kiss to slack lips and then pushed Sanji to flop back onto the bed. He bounced before working his elbows under him and propped himself up to look up at Zoro. Shirt – a disheveled mess – had slipped from his shoulders to bunch around his elbows, and those heinous yellow pants were clinging indecently tight to his legs to accommodate for the hard length.

Zoro dropped to his knees—Sanji deserved a reward.

Placing his hands on Sanji’s thighs – fueled by the way his intense gaze was pinned to him – Zoro slowly started to slide up the soft corduroy. Sanji’s legs tensed eagerly under his palms. A smirk split his face as he promised, “Your turn.”

~

Still huffing, Sanji nodded as Zoro started tugging his pants off. It felt so good to finally be free from the tight fabric. Sanji slid his feet around on the sheets and arched his back, slipping out of his shirt while Zoro worked his briefs down his legs and tossed them over his shoulder.

Zoro kissed up his inner thigh, keeping eye contact. Nipping and licking until he reached the top, he sucked on his skin. Little purple spots appeared, adding more to his collection to litter Sanji’s body with his marks. Resisting the urge to lay back and relax, Sanji instead raised his legs, setting his heels over Zoro’s shoulder blades and continued watching. He couldn’t help but eagerly raise his hips to gain more contact from Zoro’s lips.

Zoro pulled Sanji closer to the edge of the bed, giving his waist a firm squeeze before his hands worked over his erection and cupped his sack – swallowing him whole – wasting no time. 

Nearly bending in half from pleasure, Sanji reached out to loosely grip Zoro’s hair in encouragement, leaning all his weight on an elbow. Zoro smiled around his cock as he bobbed his head, easily taking his length. Sanji combed his fingers through Zoro’s hair, watching him eagerly go at him as if he had been looking forward to it.

Zoro let up after giving the tip a good suck to say, “See? That’s how you do it without choking.” 

Pulled from the moment, Sanji was instantly irritated. “Yeah?!” He asked through a clenched jaw, baring his teeth. With a devilish grin, Zoro nodded, sinking his mouth back over Sanji's cock to prove his point. “And what about now?!” 

Lightning quick, Sanji wrapped his legs around Zoro’s head to lock him against his crotch, leaving no room for Zoro to move. His eyes went wide and both hands clamped onto Sanji’s thighs, attempting to pry him off his face—not likely to succeed. Sanji could feel Zoro’s throat convulsing around him, finally gagging as Sanji did on Zoro.

Giving another good squeeze to his head, making sure Zoro had every inch of him inside and then some to prove his point, Sanji unclamped his legs to release him.

Zoro pushed himself up to sit back on his haunches, turning his head to cough. One hand gripped Sanji’s thigh, a bite Sanji relished in, and the other wiped the escaped saliva from his chin. When Zoro returned his gaze, his eyes were narrowed, suddenly wearing a dangerously dark expression that would make a lesser man cower, but Sanji lifted his chin, inciting a reaction. 

Pulling the back of his hand away, Zoro revealed the hint of an unexpected smirk. Sanji didn’t know if he was annoyed or turned on that he enjoyed his retaliation, but he waited for his next move, nonetheless. 

Zoro raised an eyebrow. “You done?”

Sanji’s mocking snort was cut short—Zoro already had him by the hips, flipping him over to faceplant into the sheets. The first reaction Sanji had was to try and spin back around to defend himself but Zoro had already climbed onto the bed—and was much heavier than he looked. Sanji could feel him towering over him as he pressed on his back to keep him down.

“Relax,” Zoro told him, voice stern—deep and commanding. Still pinning him down, Zoro rubbed soothing circles with his thumbs into the dimples of Sanji’s back—a small, reassuring gesture. Softening his tone, he added, “It’ll be good, Curly. Have some patience.”

Sanji vibrated with excitement. He never thought he’d have so much fun with a prick like Zoro. Smothering his smile into the sheets, he mumbled another, “Fuck you,” as Zoro pulled his hips upward. Sanji turned his head to look over his shoulder with a flirtatious grin and arched his back further to better present himself – a wiggle to tease, hoping to hurry him along to fuck him already – he was more than ready for it.

Instead of being met by Zoro’s cock, Sanji gasped when he felt his tongue give a brief swipe over the outer crease of his ass. Shamelessly helping himself, Zoro dug in and Sanji quickly cupped a hand over his mouth to stop the embarrassing noise that had almost slipped out. 

Zoro wasn’t shy by any means. Sanji’s eyes rolled and his mouth fell slack at the delicious feeling of his hot, wet tongue licking the length of him and dipping inside. Hands spread him open so wide, he could feel the burn from the tight pull. 

Hearing the smirk in his tone, Zoro let up to purr, “You’re awfully quiet~” 

Sanji refused to answer. Not only because he knew Zoro was teasing him, but also because he knew if he spoke, his voice would betray him. He knew he wouldn’t be able to speak without giving himself away. Sanji’s silence made Zoro chuckle, his hot breath tickling against him. 

“Looks like I finally figured out how to shut you up. What happened to all that bravado?”

It didn’t matter what he said – Sanji wouldn’t take the bait again – he wouldn’t remove his hand from his mouth, not giving Zoro the satisfaction of making him come undone when he’d barely done anything at all. 

All his restraint broke when Zoro didn’t wait for an answer and pushed his face back between his cheeks, greedily licking everything he could. Sanji hummed a moan, damning himself for inflating the bastard’s ego even more.

The room filled with slurping sounds the longer Zoro went on, slicking Sanji up with his own saliva. Sanji could feel it lazily dripping down his perineum and over his balls. Instinctively, he pushed backward for more contact to get his tongue deeper inside him—and Zoro allowed him. Pressing in as much as he could, Zoro tasted his insides, and little sounds of his own bubbled up, letting Sanji know he was enjoying himself just as much.

Readjusting his position, Zoro mounted one of Sanji’s thighs, replacing his mouth with a finger and eased it deep inside—in and out at a leisurely pace. The feeling of being fingered so gently had Sanji loosening the tension in his muscles and melting into the bed. His body settled, savoring the tranquility of Zoro getting him ready.

The sound of a cap snapping open had Sanji perking up. Lifting himself onto his elbows, Sanji looked over his shoulder in time to see Zoro squeeze the bottle of lube over him. Sanji clenched over Zoro’s finger from the cold sensation of the gel making contact, and when the cap clicked closed, Zoro pushed a second finger in and got to work. 

“Ah— not so hard,” Sanji said with a growl. He looked forward to the pillows, huffing with a childish pout.

“If I recall,” Zoro began with a purr, “you liked when I got rough just the other day.”

Sanji was ready to snap back by saying this was different, but Zoro’s motions eased up and adjusted anyway. Fingers slipping in and out smoothly, Sanji’s breathing started to pick up, having to keep his mouth open to gain enough air. Zoro’s free hand rubbed over his ass, tenderly caressing a handful before sliding up his back again to hold him in place. Keeping a steady pace, Zoro worked his fingers around until he found what he was looking for. Sanji’s back arched when Zoro pressed down on his prostate.

Zoro’s soft chuckles raised Sanji’s hackles, and he would have kicked him if he could manage, but the fucker didn’t let up on him—kept massaging over that same spot.

“Wonder if I could make you cum with just my fingers,” he wondered, voice low and sultry. Sanji tried speaking but it was getting to be too much. His toes curled and clenched together as Zoro asked, “What do you think, Curly?”

“You will,” Sanji admitted with a breathless whine. He writhed under Zoro’s touch, unknowingly rocking himself backward in time with Zoro’s fingers, grinding himself down onto his hand with a dire need to finish. “You will if you keep doing that!” he quickly blurted out, voice going up an octave. He tried twisting his body away but Zoro pushed down between his shoulder blades to keep him still.

“You really expect me to stop after telling me something like that?”

Sanji desperately grabbed fistfuls of the sheet to duck his face, muffling the deafening whine Zoro forced out of him. The bastard knew what he was doing and he took full advantage of Sanji, abusing his prostate to drive him over the edge. Eyes scrunched tightly shut, Sanji suffocated himself to stifle the next wave of moans from Zoro’s fingering. 

“Yeah, c’mon~” Zoro encouraged with simple praise. His voice was honey smooth, yet layered beneath an unmistakably smug grin Sanji could hear. “Don’t hold back—we got all night.”

All of Sanji’s frantic wailing came to a halt, cutting himself off as his orgasm ripped through him and spilled over the blanket below. Zoro worked him through it until he was a boneless pile, flopping flat on the bed.

Met with a playful slap on his ass that echoed off the walls of the room, Sanji yelped with surprise. Zoro chuckled, then said, “One down.”

“Ugh…” 

Sanji was barely coherent enough to reply, let alone care. The headrush he received from getting his mouth fucked already had him feeling high and dopey, but after having such an intense orgasm so quickly after tired him out—and they hadn’t even started .

The sound of fabric rustled behind him, most likely Zoro ridding himself of the rest of his clothes. The bed dipped when he returned, crawling over Sanji’s back until his lips were at his ear. 

“Good, right?”

Letting out a breathy laugh, Sanji nodded his head into the sheets, unable to stop himself from rolling his eyes, “Need validation that badly?”

Zoro yanked a fistful of his hair to turn his head toward him.

“Doesn’t hurt,” he said and pressed their lips together for a bruising kiss. 

He ground his erection over Sanji’s ass as he hummed into his mouth, working himself up. His restlessness to keep things moving, to get inside him, had Sanji lusting for the fill. They kissed with hunger – tongues slipping over each other to taste – and as Zoro rutted against him, Sanji rutted back. The unforgettable memory of Zoro inside him renewed his arousal and made him pant into Zoro’s mouth with want. 

Zoro abruptly pulled away, Sanji already missing the heat blanketing him. Turning around – getting another brief glimpse of the tattooed black band over his bicep – Sanji watched him slick himself up with lube over his bare cock.

“Hey, hey!” Sanji fretted, waving a hand behind him to get Zoro to stop and listen. “Use a fuckin’ condom, maybe?!”

Zoro’s hand stilled but his thumb continued to lazily slide over the head as he quirked an eyebrow down at him. Almost boredly, he drawled matter of factly, “I was just balls deep inside your mouth.”

“I don’t—!” Sanji cut himself off as he frantically glanced up and down Zoro’s body, internally battling his own stupidity of what he had just done. Zoro was right.  Realizing he was arguing a moot point, he gave up with a single huff and an eye roll. “Oh, whatever.”

Zoro immediately snagged him by the hips to pull him towards him.

“Oi!” Sanji snapped. “Impatient asshole!”

“Sure am, Curly.” Zoro’s fingers dug into his skin, gripping him tightly. “Been wanting to give you a good, proper fuck,” he growled. “One where I’m in control… with a little payback.”

Sanji clicked his tongue, annoyed he was still hung up over how ‘grabby’ he had been in the car. “Wasn’t shoving your freakishly large cock down my throat enough?!”

“No,” Zoro laughed as he lined himself up. “No, not in the slightest.” 

He teased the tip at Sanji’s entrance, rubbing it up and down his crease to spread the lube, then shoved himself inside. Sanji grunted from the force and gasped when Zoro immediately started fucking him at a gruesome pace.

If this was his punishment, then there was no way Sanji would clean up his act – he’d give him a fight – especially when Zoro gave him the ride of his life and definitely not when Zoro fucked him like his net worth was on the line.

~

Hands grasping out in front of him – encouraging cries spurring Zoro on – Sanji slipped forward on the bedspread until he was almost completely on his stomach. Every thrust pushed him lower and lower so Zoro couldn’t set a good pace.

It was a gorgeous view. A fantastic display of the photographer’s stunningly sculpted back all the way to his ample rear that he finally got to appreciate. It was pert, smooth, and round—flawless. A notable scar just above caught Zoro’s eye too, but despite the scenery, the angle was terrible .

Zoro huffed irritably.

Anchoring a hand roughly against Sanji’s hip—hiking him onto his knees before reaching out and pinning Sanji to the bed with a forceful hand to the back of the neck. Pressing his cheek into the sheets. Bearing his weight onto the arm, using the angle to slam Sanji into the bed with punishing thrusts.

Through the grunts of pleasure being pounded out of him, Sanji managed to get a hand up and bat at Zoro's forearm irritably. Eventually getting a grip on his wrist. Tugging sharply, but unable to get Zoro to budge before finally barking.

“Lemme go, shithead.”

“You sure?” The question was huffed out on a playful growl, “Sounds like you’re enjoying yourself.”

Sanji’s eyes narrowed.

“I said , ‘Lemme–’” Twisting in Zoro’s arms, Sanji kicked a leg up and around with the intention of putting his heel through Zoro’s face. “‘–go!’”

Dodging the kick this time, Zoro tilted his head to the side and let the leg hook over his shoulder—grabbing the knee to pin it in place. He used Sanji’s momentum to roll him onto his side, and then straddled Sanji’s other leg. Still seated firm and deep inside the panting photographer.

Braced on his side – hands fisting the bedsheets – Sanji’s shoulders trembled as Zoro thrust in sharply to add insult to injury. Sanji’s head hung low. Sweaty bangs hanging over his face and swinging in front of a mouth that hung open around a choked gasp.

“Mm.” Zoro crooned, “Nice try.”

Pressing a soft kiss to the inside of Sanji’s knee before turning back to gaze down at the quivering man. His hand slid up Sanji’s thigh in a rough caress. Waiting until Sanji finally lifted his chin and those fiery eyes were throwing daggers in Zoro's direction.

Zoro gave a playful shake of his head and tsked.

“You’re not getting me with these a second time.”

“I should’ve… kneed you harder.”

“I mean…” Zoro rolled his eyes at the stubborn behavior—rocking his cock deeper to prove his point, “do you really want that?”

Shifting onto his back, Sanji’s head lolled against the sheets as a moan practically sobbed out of him. His leg hooked over Zoro’s shoulder; heel pressing into Zoro’s back and urging him onward, but out of sheer stubbornness, he released the sheets and tried to punch Zoro in the thigh.

Zoro chuckled and snagged Sanji’s hand.

Rolling it over in his grasp fondly – thumb stroking across the knuckles – Sanji’s hand tightened, but didn’t pull away. It remained tense in Zoro’s hold, but when Zoro pushed it down onto the bed, Sanji didn’t fight—allowing himself to be pinned down. Finding the photographer to be surprisingly amiable, Zoro then hooked his hand beneath Sanji’s knee to once more enjoy the benefits of his ridiculous flexibility.

When he’d gotten Sanji’s knee pressed into his chest – much as he had in the car – Zoro cast a glance down between his thighs at Sanji’s other leg that was still dangling over the edge of the bed. It was like the guy didn’t even feel the stretch. A blissed-out look sagged Sanji’s features—he was almost in a full split, yet he was preoccupied with tugging on Zoro’s arm and urging him to move.

Sanji’s eyes fluttered—a frown lacing his brow.

“Don’t… stop.”

“I wouldn't want to bore you,” Zoro taunted, refusing to budge even when Sanji tugged harder, “I’m gonna need some convincing if you want this.”

Sanji’s jaw actually dropped.

Indignation of the purest and most innocent kind washed across Sanji’s face at the realization that Zoro was quite literally holding his orgasm hostage out of sheer pettiness because of their earlier banter. Zoro struggled not to laugh, but after the abuse he’d endured at the hands of the vengeful photographer, he felt it was the least he was owed. However, all of Zoro’s jest immediately dwindled when instead of fiery outrage, Sanji slumped back with an absolutely vulgar whine of desperation and pleaded through a whimper.

“Fucking please .”

Sanji’s hands clawed desperately at Zoro’s thighs.

Eyes scrunched shut against his own embarrassment – his cheeks a bright, red testament to that fact – Sanji struggled to pull Zoro to him as best as he could despite being pinned.

Zoro was no longer in a playful mood.

Everything had instantly been replaced the moment Sanji’s attitude had switched from smarmy banter to mewls of arousal. Zoro had to take a calming breath to keep from passing out. Cock swelling unbelievably from the sudden, genuine urgency from the normally confrontational photographer as Zoro’s only goal from this moment on was to ensure Sanji got off.

Hand tightening its grip on Sanji’s leg – fighting back a shudder when the blond whined needfully in response – Zoro allowed his head to drop forward as he began focusing on fucking Sanji to completion. Hips slapping against Sanji. Pumping inside as his other hand fell to curl around Sanji’s throbbing cock – tip drooling – and coax him to orgasm.

“C’mon~” Zoro crooned with a pointed grind of his hips. Stroking Sanji purposefully as he promised “I’m not gonna stop until I feel you come.”

Sanji moaned wantonly.

Nails dug stark, rosy lines into his thighs from where Sanji was gripping him until they dropped to fist in the sheets and practically tore them off the bed as he arched into Zoro. Head thrown back. Gorgeous, golden hair splayed out on dark sheets in a luminous, lustrous halo as Sanji moaned through his release.

“Shitshitshitshit shit! ”

Zoro grunted proudly in response.

Eyes falling shut to focus on the way Sanji tightened around him before finally giving in and allowing his second release to punch through him. Poignant and powerful—Zoro nearly let slip an undignified sound. Biting down hard on his tongue as he felt himself empty an obscene load with every slowing pump of his hips.

Spurred on only by the sounds of Sanji’s breathy groans, Zoro continued to stroke the photographer through his orgasm. Milking every drop of hot spunk onto that tight stomach as he rolled his hips to match every upstroke of his hand. Eventually coming to still once they’d both been bled dry.

Zoro’s eyes fluttered open.

Sprawled upon the bed – limp and panting – Sanji’s chest heaved as he caught his breath and Zoro fought to regain his own. He absently wiped his hand on the sheets. Then braced over the photographer as he began to feel some of his more rational thoughts return to him.

Fighting the urge to simply collapse on top of the slighter man and fall asleep, Zoro pulled out, then carefully slipped an arm underneath the dazed photographer and braced a hand on his thigh to help scoop him up to hang over his shoulder. A small groan forced out of Sanji. Continuing to ragdoll in Zoro’s arms, but not without muttering obstinately, “Put me down.”

Zoro chuckled—ignoring him fondly.

Stepping up onto the massive bed and walking over to the headboard, Zoro dumped Sanji comfortably amongst the pillows and gave a final, proud once-over of Sanji’s limp body. He wasn’t breathing as hard anymore, but the quivering in his legs was still there. Incredibly satisfied with his work, Zoro took an extra moment to look his fill before hopping off the bed and going to retrieve some water.

~

Dazed, Sanji focused on his surroundings to confirm Zoro really abandoned him, profusely blinking at the door. 

“...the hell?” Sanji groaned while palming his eyes. 

He stretched his limbs out, ignoring the shake of his strained, jittery muscles, and fell lax against the bed to stare blankly up at the ceiling. With every single position he had been pretzeled into replaying in his mind – and how deep each one allowed Zoro’s cock to reach – he couldn’t help the dopey grin that split his face in two. Goosebumps raised across the surface of his skin, making his hair stand on end after a full body shiver coursed through him.

How long had it been since he had been thrown around like that? Bent and twisted until he couldn’t speak? Zoro quite literally fucked him stupid—Sanji remembered himself begging at one point, even. Extremities tingled with a lingering numbing as he tried moving them—testing them.

When he felt as if he could finally sit up, he did, but only just barely. Sanji had to crawl to the side of the monstrous bed and haul himself into a sitting position by gripping the headboard for support. Once he had his feet planted on the ground, he huffed a sigh of relief. 

Before he stood, Sanji looked around the room for his briefs. Zoro had thrown them somewhere – the dickhead – along with his pants—though those were easier to spot. Bright yellow fabric hung haphazardly across a velvety chaise lounge by the floor-length windows. The leftover light from the lowering sun allowed him to trace the chair’s outline, landing on the floor. There, he saw what looked like his underwear.

Pushing to his feet, Sanji immediately collapsed to the floor in a heap. 

“Shit!”

Sanji sucked air between his teeth as he continued to curse to himself in embarrassment. Stupid, jellied legs giving out on him—reacting as if this were his first fuck! Now that truly had not happened in a long time. Annoyed by the betrayal of his own body, Sanji rubbed his forehead against the plush carpet before trying again—this time, more prepared. One by one, he maneuvered his elbows beneath him to lift off the ground. This was much more tiring than it had any right to be.

Making it to his clothes on his hands and knees, Sanji flopped onto his back to pull his underwear on, lifting his hips and releasing the waistband with a snap against his skin. That small bit of exertion exhausted him. 

Sanji then blindly felt around above him until he was able to grab a pant leg, yanking it down from the arm of the chair to fish into the pockets. Eventually, he had a cigarette dangling from his lips and a lighter tucked into his curled fist. 

Pushing back his messy, tangled bangs, Sanji’s eyes flicked to the windows. He studied them for a moment, realizing they were actually french doors that led out to a balcony—exactly what he needed. He thought for sure he would have to go downstairs if he wanted a proper smoke, not everyone had a convenient fire escape to crawl out onto, after all. But of course, Zoro had a walk-out balcony outside his room. Sanji wouldn’t be surprised if every room on the second floor had one. 

Sanji rolled over and tried again to stand, his legs momentarily shaking like a newborn deer before he was able to get a hold of himself. 

Just after Sanji finished hiking his pants up and was zipping them closed, Zoro returned – completely naked still – with two bottles tangled between his fingers in each hand. Didn’t even bother to cover himself. 

As Zoro made his way over to him, tossing all but one bottle onto the bed, he scoffed with a smile, gesturing to Sanji’s half-clothed state. “And where do you think you’re going?”

Pointedly ignoring how huge Zoro’s cock was even while soft, and how it… swung as he walked… Sanji jerked his head to the side, gesturing toward the balcony behind him. “Gonna have a smoke before I leave?” he said questioningly as if it weren’t obvious to the other. Zoro knew he smoked, he should know what to expect from him. 

“Oh, Curly,” he said condescendingly. Stepping into Sanji’s space, Zoro reached out to lightly grab his chin – thumb scruffing through his stubble – to guide his face upward so they were eye to eye as he cooed, “I’m not even close to being done with you.”

Pulling out of his grasp, Sanji nearly toppled over the chaise behind him to get away. “What?! No!” he protested with a tremor in his laugh. 

Reflexively, Zoro reached out to grab Sanji by the hips to keep him balanced. Sanji did his best to ignore the obscenely pornographic movement below Zoro’s waist as he did so.

When Sanji pushed him away – avoiding hypnotism by not letting his eyes wander back down – he put a hand up between them, staring at Zoro through his splayed fingers. “I’m still shaking, you brute.” He twisted it around, showing off the evidence of adrenaline.

Without a shred of shame, Zoro expostulated, “But I wanna see you ride me again.”

Sanji plucked the unlit cigarette from his lips to better tell Zoro off—hoping if he didn’t hear correctly, he could at least read his lips. “What part of ‘I’m all fucked-out’ do you not understand?”

“Just a little more… then I’ll let you take a shower with me.” Sanji quirked an eyebrow, ready to snap at him again, but Zoro beat him to the punch. “You ever have a ten thousand dollar shower, Curly?”

That got Sanji to hesitate, at least momentarily. His words may hold some weight with his other quick fucks, but not Sanji. The lavish life wasn’t entirely foreign to him, therefore, not as impressive as Zoro was making it seem. Although… he did love a good, hot shower.

“Oh-ho, is that the going rate for a golden shower with you uppity rich folk these days?” he said, looking off to the archway in the corner that led to his ensuite.

When he returned his gaze to Zoro, he found him to be shocked with complete and utter horror. Sanji let out a nervous chuckle, waiting for him to brush it off, but Zoro’s frown didn’t lessen. Cocking his head, Sanji crinkled his face and brought up his hands to quickly backtrack.

“I was kidding! It was a joke?!”

“Just tryin’ to show you a good time,” Zoro shook his head with a playful despondency, then raised the bottle he’d brought with him and scoffed, “and you think I wanna piss on you.”

Bugged-eyed, Sanji stared with astonishment, “And that was your way of convincing me? The general decency of allowing me to clean your cum off of me?!”

Beginning to unscrew the bottle, Zoro smirked back at him, nodding before taking a long pull from the drink.

“Is that…” Sanji squinted, the room just dim enough he couldn’t tell what he held. All that he could make out was that it was a clear liquid. “Is that vodka?!” he squawked, thoroughly distracted now.

Knitting his brows together, Zoro turned it around to show off the label. “No, it’s water. Here.”

Sanji took the offered bottle and studied the brand. “Aqua Laguna?! Oh, for the love of Joyboy, of course you drink this pretentious shit!” Now he knew why Usopp always had one of these tucked away in his bag despite all his badgering. He couldn't roll his eyes any harder—entirely possible they would get stuck in the back of his head if he did.

“What’s wrong with Laguna?” Zoro asked after opening up a new one of his own.

“Nothing!” Sanji snapped. “The water’s high quality. What’s wrong is you’re a celebrity!”  

Zoro didn’t look as if he were catching on. Sanji scoffed as he turned away to pull open the doors and stepped out into the cool evening air. Following after, Zoro watched as he lit up his long-awaited cigarette. Sanji leaned his back against the railing after setting the bottle down on a nearby table, softly hissing from the sting of the cold metal against his bare skin, then continued. 

“If your little fanboys see you drinking this shit,” he said, taking a long pull. He held the smoke in, speaking through his nose. “They’re gonna drink it, too.” Exhaling, his mouthful of smoke billowed out, dissipating until Zoro was revealed in front of him. He shook his head, unable to believe Zoro wasn’t getting it. “Whether you’re caught with one by the pap or on the damn television, people are gonna wanna be just like you. Thus, creating a massive explosion of people buying plastic bottles.”

Staring blankly at him, Zoro drawled, “Right. That’s how marketing works, Curly.”

“Just drink it from the fuckin’ tap!” Sanji yelled, throwing his arms up. “Get a cup! Do you even know how much of that plastic,” Sanji pointed to the bottle in Zoro’s hand, “ends up in the ocean each year?!” Zoro leaned his bottle backward to inspect it, slightly turning it over in his hand as if he were contemplating Sanji’s words. “You know what—nevermind. Fuck you shitty rich people,” he said, waving his cigarette around, dismissing Zoro as he mumbled to himself. “You’re all the fuckin’ same. Don’t give a shit about anything but yourself.” 

Without Sanji monologuing on his soap box, the silence of the night felt a little louder. Sanji didn’t care, though. Ignoring the billionaire, Sanji turned away to rest his elbows on the railing, leaning over it to look down at the grounds below. There wasn’t much to see in the darkness, most of the landscaping cast in shadow now. 

“Damn, Curly,” Zoro said, breaking the peace while walking up behind him. “Hearing you get all fired up turned me on a little bit.”

“Die.”

Zoro laughed and Sanji supposed he was wasting his breath—why bother arguing any further? Inhaling another lungful of smoke, Sanji tried his best to ignore the wandering touch of Zoro’s warm hands, crawling over his sides and around to his front.

“Pretty hot,” he said into his ear as he pressed against him. 

He hadn’t been lying about what he thought of Sanji’s mini-freak out. Hard length pressing insistently into his ass, Zoro ground against him—shamelessly groaning as he buried his face into Sanji’s neck.

“Go away, I’m irritated.”

“Let me give you a little stress relief then, hm?” he hummed, slipping his hand into Sanji’s open pants to palm him over his briefs, gradually bringing his spent cock back to life. “M’ready for the next round. You?”

The promise of an extension of their good time sounded great, Sanji didn’t want to cut their night early. He truly believed Zoro had left the room to call him a cab and was genuinely surprised it was only the intermission. But he was just sorely reminded of just who was fucking him. It was honestly a slap in the face! A massive reality check.

As Sanji stewed in his own angry thoughts, Zoro helped himself to Sanji’s body. Slowly, he worked his pants down, tugging them over his muscled thighs. The cigarette between Sanji’s lips flicked upward when he closed his mouth, giving a sharp inhale at the thick fingers tracing over the crease of his ass.

“You sure you don’t want some water first?” Zoro asked, dipping his finger between his cheeks now. 

Subconsciously, Sanji spread his legs and leaned forward further to arch his back, his breath quickening as he gave the other better access to him. The tops of his cheeks felt warm with embarrassment when he heard the obnoxious squelch of cum and lube ooze out the deeper Zoro’s fingers sunk into him. 

“I see you’ve decided on that shower…”

“Please,” Sanji whispered, dropping his head between his shoulders. He scrunched his eyebrows to whine, “I am begging you to shut up.”

When Zoro pried him open and lined up the tip of his cock, Sanji nearly dropped his cigarette into the grass below – his mouth falling open with a gasp – and quickly pinched it between his knuckles before gripping the railing once again.

Sanji pushed backward to get Zoro in him, but instead of being filled, Zoro teasingly – infuriatingly – pulled away. Sanji whipped around, snarling, “Stop fucking around, dipshit!”

Zoro chuckled, his smile just big enough his dimple appeared. “Whatever you want, then~” he said, and slipped himself inside, inch by inch, the sounds just as lewd. 

“Mmm…” Sanji closed his eyes. 

Only when Zoro pulled back and harshly thrust in forcing a choking gasp – drying his cotton mouth all the more – did Sanji protest.

“Okay, okay—wait, wait, wait!” Sanji pleaded. Thankfully, Zoro stopped. Twisting around, Sanji held out his hand for the water that was just out of reach. “...Please…?”

~

Just like in the car, Sanji was surprisingly quiet in the minutes that followed a spectacular arrival. Zoro wasn’t particularly complaining—it gave him the opportunity to appreciate him without being interrupted. After carrying the exhausted photographer to the shower, Zoro had set him down only to have the guy face plant into his chest and mumble something about, “This shit ain’t worth it,” and, “You’re insatiable.”

Zoro rolled his eyes.

Slipping an arm around Sanji’s narrow waist – his hand cradling his hip possessively – Zoro hauled the photographer in until their bodies were flush, and for the first time, he truly could see their difference in height. It was difficult to notice with the way Sanji was always rising to his toes to bark in his face, but the photographer was a decent bit shorter than himself—especially when slumped in a post-fuck daze. Leaning into Zoro for support – arms limp at his sides – the only part of Sanji that was helping to keep him upright was his chin, which was propped on Zoro’s collarbone.

Head tilted back, eyes shut, Sanji allowed the water to drizzle down onto his face while occasionally huffing out a breath that caused a few droplets of water to flick up to hit Zoro’s neck.

Keeping a tight hold on Sanji’s waist, Zoro brought his other hand up to carefully drag Sanji’s hair neatly to the side and get a proper look at that gorgeous face that had entranced him. He almost looked like a different person, or at least, a more guileless one. There was a contentment that was sorely missing from when the photographer was conscientiously on the lookout for the next thing that could plausibly upset him.

Zoro almost pitied the tightly wound spitfire.

However, he hadn’t brought Sanji here for him to try and psychoanalyze the – no doubt – multitudinous things that were causing the photographer strife. He’d brought Sanji here to attempt to work out some of their pent-up desire. Which they’d made a decent attempt at, but Zoro was quickly coming to realize that it was going to take more than a few days to work out his appetite for the photographer.

At least a week, maybe longer.

“You gonna start washing,” Zoro muttered. He tried to keep his tone sincere, but couldn’t help the mild humor of the situation. Smiling as he prodded, “Or should I just do it?”

Sanji grunted noncommittally.

Pumping out a generous portion of shampoo into his hand, Zoro maneuvered Sanji so that he was just on the edge of the rainfall of the shower – still comfortably under the hot spray – but his head was free before starting to work the shampoo into the fine, blond hair.

Sanji immediately hummed pleasantly in response.

Cautiously releasing Sanji’s waist – waiting to see if the man would stand on his own – Zoro then brought his other hand up to bury happily in that delicate hair. It was already ridiculously soft when dry, but when wet, it was silkier than the highest thread count. So delicate that Zoro nearly felt sacrilege running his coarse hands through it and feeling it catch on his callouses.

As the bubbles began to drip down Sanji’s neck, Zoro quickly got distracted from his task as his hands followed suit. Working over Sanji’s body with greedy, rough strokes as he appreciated what was finally his : soapy hands traveling over those lean thighs that had been wrapped around him; rubbing suds up a muscular back that had arched beneath him with every thrust; lathered fingers slipping around to massage that perfect, tight ass.

There was just something so satisfying about being able to liberally clean up his plaything once he was finished with it—truly getting to see the efforts of his labors. All the marks he’d left, the trembling still in his hips, and that gorgeously dazed expression.

Zoro bit down a possessive grumble of approval.

Saying it aloud would no doubt garner a list of complaints from the photographer in question, but Zoro couldn’t help the surge of proud arousal that thrummed through him at the feeling of finally having Sanji. Here, at his place; his to use . There was no doubt that Sanji would continue to be his stubborn self, but for this moment—it was all here for him.

It was his .

Hand dipping around to palm the photographer’s ass greedily – Zoro smirked when Sanji hummed in response – he allowed his hand to travel a bit further until his fingers were slipping between pert cheeks. Sanji inhaled. Stiffening a little, and his arms actually jerking to come up to rest on Zoro’s hips, but he didn’t tell Zoro off.

Interesting…

Zoro’s fingers reached Sanji’s entrance. 

Circling the still lube-slick hole – gloriously soft and loose from abuse – with a playful patience, Zoro waited to be told off only to have Sanji bury his face into Zoro’s chest, press back invitingly, and stay shockingly silent. Wordlessly encouraging Zoro to work his hand a bit deeper. Immediately, Zoro made a mental note – for future reference – that the photographer was more agreeable after having gotten off, then slipped two fingers back inside.

Sanji moaned appreciatively—his spent cock twitching against Zoro’s thigh.

Slowly – tenderly – slipping his fingers in and out, Zoro found himself entranced by the way Sanji rode back mindlessly on his hand. No matter how adamant he was about being done it was clearly fabricated. This photographer was nearly as pent up and deviously lecherous as he was—maybe even more so…

With his fingers still buried deep in that sopping, dripping entrance, Zoro wrapped his other arm securely around the photographer before using both arms to heft him up. Sanji even assisted a little by hopping into the movement. Those sinful legs snapped around Zoro’s hips instantly.

Spinning them around to pin Sanji to the wet tiles with his hips and a hand firmly inside him, Zoro buried his face happily in the photographer’s neck. Sanji groaned happily into Zoro’s shoulder. Clinging to Zoro bodily as he returned to pumping his fingers in and out at just the right pace to keep Sanji desperate, but not enough to get him anywhere in particular.

Zoro wasn’t in a rush—he intended to take his time with this one.

TBC…

Chapter Text

or•ange lil•y (ˈɔr ɪndʒ, ˈɒr- ˈlɪl i) - of desire and disdain
~

There was a brief moment of panic when Sanji woke. The… activities from last night exhausted him enough he had passed out when Zoro was finally done with him. So when he opened his eyes that morning – still groggy and disoriented – he had forgotten where he was.

Sitting up, Sanji felt the empty space next to him, the bed cold. He wondered how long Zoro had been up and why he hadn’t been kicked out yet. Getting a creeping sense of overstaying, Sanji flung the covers back and scooted to the edge of the bed.

Pants, underwear, and one shoe put back on, Sanji fingered over the stray threads that once held a button on his shirt as he searched Zoro’s room for his other loafer. He couldn’t believe how inconsiderate he was about his clothes—he owed him another shirt. At least he knew Zoro would pull through with that.

Second shoe located, Sanji fixed himself up in the en suite – trying his best not to look like he had been thoroughly fucked for hours the night before – but didn’t have much luck. His shirt had no buttons left, his hair was a curly, ratty mess, he needed a change of clothes, and he definitely needed another shower. Sanji splashed some water on his face and rinsed his mouth, calling it good enough for now.

Since he was left alone, Sanji decided to poke around to give himself a tour after vaguely answering a few insistent messages from Usopp. Most of the mansion had gone unseen. 

Taking the route he came, Sanji descended the stairs to head down the hall and around the corner. The hallway was bright, lit with the morning sun on both sides. He followed the strong scent of chlorine past the courtyard to the very end.

Sanji cupped his hands over his face and leaned into the glass, peering inside. It had a high ceiling that ascended above the second floor. The lights were off but the far wall was mostly windows – just like the rest of Zoro’s house – giving plenty of light for Sanji to see how small the room was—very modest.

The narrow rectangular-shaped pool sat flush against the windows, leaving a gorgeous view of Zoro’s backyard. From where he was standing, it looked as if it dropped off and extended for at least another thirty or forty acres. Sanji pushed off the glass and opened the door to see the rest.

Afraid he’d be faced with another housekeeper, Sanji cautiously poked his head inside. The far wall to the right had an archway that led to another room—most likely a shower. There were two squat, potted plants nestled in the opposite corner. Sanji couldn’t suppress his smile at the little addition of ‘Zoro-esque’ interior design.

Closing the door, he backtracked to the courtyard he had been wanting to see since the night before. The rising sun was blocked by clouds, most of the center foliage was cast in shadow. Stepping onto the wooden walkway, Sanji’s eyes shot open at the discovery of a pond.

Looking straight down over the nearest ledge, he not only saw the water extended under the deck, but also the dozens of various koi fish lazily swimming about. At the sight of a human, they began to gather, rushing from all over—darting around rocks and shooting out from under the lily pads to appear before him.

“Well, hello there!” Sanji laughed, dropping to his knees. He knelt forward and swirled the water around, making the koi happily wiggle and poke their mouths above the water. A few nibbled on his fingertips when they could and he imagined they might be waiting to be fed. Getting back to his feet, he dried his hands on his pants and dusted his knees off.

The fish were quite beautiful. Their bright oranges, yellows, and whites popped against the green, the perfect contrast against all the darkness surrounding them. 

Taking in the rest of the area, Sanji saw flat rocks leading out to a larger one in the very middle—big enough for one. With the training room leading out here, Sanji could only assume Zoro used this natural environment to wind down and relax, meditating the day away. And he couldn’t blame him. Just being on the deck made Sanji feel content. He could see himself taking a nap under the warm sun with the sound of the constant trickling water lulling him to sleep.

A sudden movement startled Sanji, snapping his head toward it. Directly across from him was another set of french doors he hadn’t noticed that led out onto the patio off the kitchen. Zoro sat at a table, his back to him, and was stretching his limbs high into the air. Not wanting to be caught somewhere he shouldn’t be, Sanji turned around to leave the way he came in, almost tip-toeing as if Zoro would hear him through the wall if he didn’t.

Sanji quickly returned to the dining room. That same creeping sensation of overstaying from earlier tingled across his skin. He really needed to get his ass out of there before Zoro took the liberty of kicking him out—which would be devastatingly embarrassing. There was no way Sanji wanted to see that shitty, smug grin on the billionaire’s face as he sneered ‘What are you still doing here?’ and pointed to the door. Sanji shuddered at the potentially awkward scenario he’d just created.

Gripping the strap to his backpack, Sanji let out a deep sigh. He patted himself down to make sure he had everything before telling Zoro he was headed out.

Out on the patio, Zoro was ticking away on his laptop. Sanji slowed to a stop before reaching the doors to take a moment to watch Zoro in his element.

Whatever he was working on had him intensely staring at his screen, a small furrow between his brows as he concentrated. Wearing a loose graphic tee with a pair of thick-rimmed glasses—he looked like he could be catching up on work while having his breakfast. It was late morning, he should have been at the office long ago.

If he planned on leaving, Sanji needed to actually step out onto the patio to tell Zoro goodbye, but he couldn’t. His feet were cemented in place because the image he saw in front of him was too gorgeous—it would make for the perfect photo.

Surrounding Zoro were luscious plants, thick brush lining the bricks of the terrace. Thin, tall bushes and trees reached well above the glass doors, beyond where Sanji could see. There were shorter and much denser ones that filled between everything else, leaving no room to see to the other side. They varied in shades of green, from bright lime to the blackest of pine. There was no wind, everything stone-still.

But that wasn’t what had Sanji stopped in his tracks. It was the sun. It must have come out from behind the clouds because it was now lighting up a section of the foliage, basking it in rich gold. Sanji dipped into a crouch, slowly slipping off his backpack and taking out his camera. He turned it on and quickly set it up to not risk losing the beams of light.

When he looked through the viewfinder, he realized it wasn’t right and switched it for his long lens. Adjusting the zoom until the gridded frames of the French doors blurred in the foreground and Zoro came into focus behind the glass, Sanji took a deep breath.

The glow was almost angelic. It radiated the brightest right behind Zoro, making him the center of attention—Sanji huffed through his nose at the irony. He wouldn’t be telling the CEO how dreamlike he looked right now.

Sanji snapped the shutter a few times and reviewed them. They looked beyond gorgeous. It was amazing what a little sunlight could do for a simple shot. Crawling a little closer to the windowed door – careful not to be seen – Sanji watched Zoro sit back in his chair with a sigh, reaching for his mug to take a sip. He stared at the computer screen for a moment before setting his cup down and getting back to it. Sanji took another photo.

He couldn’t suppress his smile as he flipped through the pictures. They looked pretty damn good. Unsure if it was brisk or toasty outside, the photos at least made the environment look comfy and serene. Peaceful, even. When he lifted his camera to try for some more, he was startled to see Zoro staring back at him through the viewfinder—his three golden earrings now visible, shining back at him.

Lowering the camera, Sanji gave a sheepish smile at being caught and got to his feet. He stowed away his camera and pulled his bag back over his shoulder. A wave of heat hit him as he opened one side of the doors. Leaning on the frame, Sanji watched Zoro’s eyes trail from his face down to his exposed chest.

Sanji frowned, grabbing the sides of the button-down and yanking his shirt closed the best he could.

“Takin’ pictures of me again?” Zoro casually asked before Sanji could reprimand him for ruining his clothes. He wore an unreadable expression and Sanji wondered if he crossed the line. “You’re as bad as the pap. Like some kind of annoying bug—always buzzing around.”

Bristling, Sanji angrily pointed at him, taking the step down onto the bricked patio. “I am nothing like the fuckin’ paparazzi. What they do is invasive —no respect for privacy! They don’t–” Sanji cut himself off and shook his head. “You know what, it doesn’t matter.” He adjusted his bag and fixed his shirt in an irritable huff before saying, “I was seeing myself out, just wanted to say thanks and goodbye.”

Zoro raised a curious eyebrow at him, leaning back in his chair with crossed arms. Sanji cleared his throat to elaborate.

“You know, for the job and the…” Sanji looked away, scratching at the back of his neck awkwardly. “Sex.”

Zoro’s mouth broke into a devilish grin.

“You’re welcome~,” he purred. Sanji rolled his eyes and turned to leave when Zoro continued. “What’s your hurry… Shutterbug?”

Whipping around, Sanji bared his teeth at the obnoxious nickname. “I got shit to do,” he said, flinging a hand behind him to point at the rest of the world. “I gotta get those headshots edited and sent back to Santoryu before end of day Friday. And don’t call me that.”

“Stay for a bit.” Zoro nodded his head toward the small plate of muffins and bagels. “Have some breakfast.”

Sanji narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

The grin widened, splitting his face from ear to ear. He pointed to an open chair with a chuckle. “You know why.”

Ah.

Sanji chewed on his bottom lip. He really did need to get a head start on those photos… but a few hours wouldn’t make a difference.

“Alright,” he conceded. He tucked his backpack under the table and joined Zoro. Snagging a muffin from the middle, he turned it over to inspect it. “Did your housekeeper make these? Conis?”

“Yeah. Banana nut from the other day. These are from a bakery downtown, though,” Zoro said about the bagels.

“Is she here?” Sanji asked, looking around as if she’d suddenly walk out from behind the giant leaves.

Zoro’s eyes flicked to the corner of his computer to look at the time. “No, not until noon,” he said, then asked if Sanji wanted any coffee, to which he went inside to get for him.

Sanji took the moment alone to look around, only just now realizing he wasn’t outside—at least not technically. They were actually enclosed in glass, which was probably why it felt so humid.

So Zoro liked to surround himself with green everywhere, not just his office? He hadn’t been messing around when he said he liked the color. The plants were a nice touch that Sanji could appreciate, though. He liked them, too.

When Zoro came back out with another mug for him, there was a plastic bag in his other hand with a box inside—the sharp corners pulled the plastic taut at the bottom. Sanji eyed it suspiciously as both were set down on the table in front of him.

Zoro leaned back in his chair and brought an ankle up to rest on his knee. When Sanji made no move to open it up, Zoro tilted his head. “Go on.”

Sanji sighed. Pulling the bag onto his lap, he looked inside. A frown formed on his face and he pursed his lips at the sight of a brand new RyuCamera staring back at him. Scoffing, Sanji closed the plastic over itself and set it back on the tabletop, pushing it away. “I don’t need that, I have my own.”

One of Zoro’s eyebrows raised. “It’s the latest model,” he said pointedly, his voice flat.

“So?”

Zoro chuckled.

Shaking his head as he grabbed his cup and took another drink. Sanji mimicked him, glaring at him over the edge of his mug, waiting to see what the hell Zoro was up to. They already talked about his shitty camera and Sanji thought he made it clear he was perfectly fine with it—minus the prison labor, of course. But he had already purchased it, there was nothing he could do about that!

“So,” Zoro continued. He pinched the bridge of his glasses to pull them off, folding them over each other to gently place on the table. “Think of this as a… perk.”

“A perk?” Sanji asked.

“Of sleeping with me.”

Sanji’s jaw dropped, “Ex- excuse me?!”

What was this guy’s problem? Was he incapable of acting like a normal human?! Why did everything come down to money?!

“I–I’m not–” he tried speaking but his rising anger jumbled his thoughts. A shrill laugh bubbled out as he raked his fingers through his hair. “I can’t believe you still think you can buy me!”

Sitting forward, Zoro leveled with him. “Everyone always wants something.” He waved his hand about as he began to list things off, “Money, cars, a trip to Paris. I don’t care—name it.”

“Well I’m not every–” Sanji cut himself off as something occurred to him. At first, he thought he hadn’t made his point clear enough, but Zoro was a smart man—there was no way he had missed it. The problem was – even after learning this information – he still insisted on waving his money around as if he could change Sanji’s mind so easily.

But then Sanji realized… it was because Zoro was used to people taking from him. Both in his work, and personal life. It wasn’t anything against Sanji. He wasn’t trying to buy him—this was just his normal.

Reeling in his anger, Sanji took a deep breath as he looked down at the table. He leaned over the arm of the chair to dig into his backpack, fishing out a cigarillo and lighter. Sticking the tip between his teeth, he mumbled, “Do y’mind?”

Zoro shook his head.

He lit up and took a drag, blowing the scented smoke toward the glass ceiling. Sanji went with a calmer approach and said, “I don’t care about your money. And, well—there’s more to it than that.” He flicked an ash over his napkin. “I don’t do relationships.”

“And neither do I,” Zoro said.

“No, that’s not–” Sanji harshly rubbed the heel of his palm into his eye, forcing himself to take a deep breath and slowly let it stutter out to avoid his frustration growing. “What I mean is…ugh… you know!” When Zoro didn’t confirm he knew, Sanji could feel the awkward tension rising, but he might as well get the dreaded conversation over with. Crossing his arms in a childish huff – balancing the cig between his fingers – Sanji quickly mumbled out, “I don’t date because I won the damn flower-puking genetic lottery, okay?”

Zoro chuckled as he leaned back.

“Shouldn’t be an issue since that’s not what this is,” he said, gesturing between the two of them. He then tapped his temple condescendingly. “Look, you’re thinking about this too hard, Kicky. I get what I want – some stress relief – and in return, you can have what you want— whatever you want.”

“You can’t buy what I want,” Sanji snapped.

“Oh, really?” Zoro grinned in a way Sanji didn’t like. “So, if I were to say…” He trailed off with a canned attempt at contemplation. His hand reached out to place pointedly atop the boxed camera—the plastic of the bag stretching under his splayed fingers. A devilish smirk replaced Zoro’s affectatious mein, “you could tag along on my trips abroad to take all the nature photos your little shutterbug heart desired…that wouldn’t interest you at all?”

Sanji looked at him, surprise written on his face. Zoro smiled and Sanji internally cursed for giving himself away.

“It’s what you want, isn’t it?” Zoro added, inclining his head toward the camera.

“Not from–!”

“Isn’t it?” he repeated with emphasis.

That had Sanji pausing to understand what he was trying to get across. He was… giving Sanji an opportunity to do what he loved? Was it that easy? It was all he ever wanted to do in life and here was his chance—dangling right in front of him and all he had to do was say yes. It was honestly too good to be true, it felt almost wrong to agree to something so extravagantly appealing, especially when you didn’t have anything to give in return. 

Sanji tore his eyes away from Zoro to look at the bag on the table. Hooking a finger at the top, dragging the side down to reveal the camera, he contemplated the weighty decision as he chewed on his bottom lip.

A low, irritated growl rumbled in his throat. 

The hypocrisy, honestly—being bought in the end anyway.

~

A weighted silence hung between the two—Zoro could practically hear the gears whirring in the photographer’s head while he glared down at the camera critically. He let Sanji stew. Picking up his coffee and taking a sip, Zoro watched quietly and marveled at how stubborn the man was over something as simple as a gift.

Zoro paused.

Not just the gift—the money and the offer, too. There was an unusual amount of hostility around the subject that Zoro wasn’t familiar with; most people around him took advantage of his money any chance they got. Sanji, however, was clearly adverse to handouts, but his reasons were not any of Zoro’s business.

Sighing – garnering Sanji’s attention – Zoro set his coffee down and gestured lazily to the camera, “If it makes you that uncomfortable, just consider it a token of appreciation from the company for your contracts.”

“The ‘Company’?” Sanji arched a brow with a sneer, “Is that what you call your dick?”

“No, but I’ll consider it.”

Sanji rolled his eyes.

As the photographer went back to glaring at the camera, Zoro decided on a new tactic. He needed to remind Sanji of the actual offer on the table. Gifts, money, and travel forgotten as Zoro hooked his foot around the leg of Sanji’s chair.

In a fluid motion, he dragged it – man and all – until Sanji was directly beside him—his arm slipping around the back to curl across the photographer’s shoulders. His hand resting on an upper arm. Amiable and relaxed, yet still corralling Sanji close so he could lean across the stunned man to whisper into his ear.

“What’s there to think about?”

Sanji was stubbornly silent.

Upon being startled, Sanji’s hand had shot up and now rested on Zoro’s chest, but the photographer made no move to remove it. Fingers twitching when Zoro’s breath ghosted across the shell of the photographer’s ear. Once again, Zoro could hear the conflicted gears whirring in Sanji’s head and decided to make his case very clear.

Zoro’s hand slid under the table to rest on Sanji’s thigh.

Trailing along the corduroy until he was just shy of Sanji’s hip—his fingers dipping low with obvious intent, but never actually going further than to trace the line of Sanji’s inseam teasingly, “You like me, right?”

Sanji’s jaw muscles flexed.

Zoro smirked at the blatant attempt to avoid being honest.

“It was good~”

Murmuring the words proudly, Zoro brought his finger further up as Sanji’s body went carefully still and his breath hitched. He could feel Sanji’s interest growing through the fabric. Attention waning as his hand traced higher—able to see Sanji’s pants tightening as the light touch, and his words alone, were enough to get a reaction. His hand twitched. Aching to get Sanji back under him, missing that hot length against his palm as he stroked him to completion.

Zoro’s finger traced up the taut fly—Sanji’s hips canting minutely.

Exhaling harshly around a smug grin, Zoro’s hot breath washed over Sanji’s neck, “And you want more.”

A blush that was somewhere between embarrassed and infuriated lit up Sanji’s face, and he turned a sharp look on Zoro while sneering, “Confident you were that good, huh?”

Turning his hand to properly palm Sanji’s length for the first time since he started his teasing fingering, Zoro smirked at the way Sanji had to obviously bite his cheek to fight back a gasp. He didn’t give the photographer a reprieve. Continuing his pointed, promising stroking – finding the head through the fabric and teasing it eagerly – never breaking his challenging stare with the indignant blond.

“Tell me to stop then.”

Sanji’s lip curled defiantly, but his gaze faltered—breaking away in an unspoken yield.

“It’s just temporary?” When he spoke it was carefully composed, “Until you get bored of me?”

“Pretty much,” Zoro murmured.

“And it’s just sex?”

“Of course.”

“Fine, fine,” Sanji gasped. Zoro could feel Sanji’s restraint snapping, “but get on with it, will you?!”

Fighting back a victorious grin, Zoro slid his hand up to cradle Sanji’s cheek and turned the man further into him to slant over his lips in a greedy kiss. Sanji’s hand on his chest tightened desperately. Leaning into the kiss, Zoro momentarily soaked up the taste of Sanji’s morning cigarette off his tongue and gave a final squeeze to Sanji’s confined erection before stopping his teasing.

Removing his hand – spurred on by the disappointed whine Sanji let slip into their kiss – Zoro hooked it under the photographer’s thigh as the arm from the back of the chair dropped to wrap around his waist. He gave a warning squeeze. Then scooped the slighter man up and hauled him into his lap until Sanji’s thighs straddled him perfectly and he was able to slip his hands down to cradle the photographer’s rear.

Zoro smiled into the kiss.

It was incredibly entertaining feeling Sanji’s body tense – almost irritably – at the possessive grip before inevitably relaxing into it. Never saying a word, never actually complaining, but so obviously irked and into it at the same time. Trying not to let any smugness show, Zoro deepened the kiss while massaging the muscle gratefully before slipping around to the front.

Quickly working the button and fly on Sanji’s pants open – wrestling a bit with his briefs – Zoro finally got his hand wrapped around the photographer’s straining erection and gave a greedy stroke. Sanji moaned readily. Kiss pausing as Sanji hovered over Zoro’s mouth while fully losing himself in the sensation of the hand currently working his cock.

Placing a gentle hand to Sanji’s chest, Zoro forced the photographer away until his back rested against the table and his elbows rested on the surface. Sanji went without complaint—surprisingly. Giving Zoro more space to properly stroke Sanji’s length, but motives not entirely altruistic—thoroughly enjoying the view the position afforded him.

It was a glorious sight—one he was certain wasn’t going to bore him any time soon.

This absolutely gorgeous man splayed out in his lap – braced weakly on the table – ruined shirt hanging open and exposing a perfect body that Zoro had become addicted to. Perfect, plump lips slack around a moan. Head slumped back – eyes shut, brow furrowed – completely lost in his own pleasure as Zoro brought him closer and closer to his climax.

Sliding his hand up Sanji’s lean frame, Zoro took extra time to trace along the taut lines of his stomach and up over tense muscles at his ribs—everything defined with each aroused pant. His thumb paused at a mark he’d left. Pressing into it possessively and rewarded with a poorly muffled moan from the stubborn photographer, but nothing hiding the deepening blush on Sanji’s alabaster skin.

Higher and higher his hand traveled – taking extra delight in pinching a nipple for a bit and the reaction it earned him – continuing up until he reached Sanji’s throat. Muscles strained under each breath. Pausing there to feel the labored breathing as Zoro’s other hand continued to work Sanji’s now leaking length with perfect rhythm before inching further up.

Caressing Sanji’s jaw reverently, Zoro thrilled at the feeling of stubble along the edge that had come in overnight and then slipped higher. Fingers cradled Sanji’s chin, and his thumb caught his lower lip. Mouth still agape around a moan, Zoro pressed at the sinfully soft skin – a stark contrast to his rough cheek – before hooking inside and tracing Sanji’s tongue.

Hot and wet, Zoro’s eyes fluttered for a second—his own arousal getting the better of him. Still confined to his jeans, the pressure and tightness was blinding. It was taking all of his restraint not to simply knock everything off the table and properly take the photographer right now.

Zoro removed his thumb and replaced it with his fingers.

Tapping two digits politely on Sanji’s lips, Zoro waited for him to invite them inside with a flick of his tongue before inserting them all the way to the knuckle. They bracketed Sanji’s tongue. Leaving them there long after they were dripping with saliva, and Sanji was forced to swallow around them causing Zoro’s already aching length to twitch desperately—Zoro was losing faith he could wait.

It wasn’t ideal, but he was willing to take Sanji like this—he already knew from the car that Sanji was competent at riding him.

Snatching his sopping fingers from Sanji’s mouth, Zoro bit his lip around a groan at just how wet he had made them before reaching down. After a bit of adjusting, Zoro managed to slip them down the back of Sanji’s pants and just got close enough to press the tip at the photographer’s entrance before Sanji broke.

A tortured groan was punched from him.

Whole body trembling as his orgasm rocked through him – a tension causing him to arch beautifully – Zoro stroked him through it. Gorgeous body splattered with his own cum as Zoro continued milking every drop from his twitching cock. Thriving off the way Sanji twitched with every upstroke of his hand until eventually nothing else came out.

Zoro then halted his movements and gave Sanji a minute to recover.

Dragging his hand free from Sanji’s pants, Zoro braced it on the photographer’s back to ensure he wouldn’t just collapse backwards and take out everything currently behind him on the table. He waited until most of the tension had drained from Sanji before hauling him upright. Letting Sanji slump into him – face nuzzling into Zoro’s shoulder – a happy, weak groan slipping from him as Zoro finally released his spent cock.

Hiking Sanji’s pants relatively back into place to give that barest courtesy, Zoro then scooped Sanji up as he pushed to his feet and hefted the dazed photographer over his shoulder. He took the liberty of brazenly grabbing Sanji’s ass. Already striding from the room and announcing, “I need another go at you.”

~

Sanji’s hand hovered over the door handle to leave as Zoro called out to him from the top of the stairs.

“You sure you don’t just wanna take one of my shirts?” Soft padding of footsteps sounded as Zoro descended the stairs. Sanji straightened, turning to fully face him. Lazily, Zoro pointed at the state he left Sanji’s shirt in after another round in bed. “Yours is kinda ruined.”

Gritting his teeth, Sanji gripped the strap to his backpack to keep his fists from flying. “No,” he growled. “But if you do happen to find any buttons–”

“Save ’em for you?” Zoro cut in with a smile. He was in front of Sanji now, smirking down at him looking entirely too smug.

“No,” he repeated and pointed his finger right into Zoro’s face. “I want you to shove them up your fucking ass.”

Zoro’s face lit up as he grabbed Sanji by his hips – bringing them together – amused by Sanji’s reaction. Lips hovering over Sanji’s, Zoro’s voice dropped low as he playfully said, “Oooh~ gonna tongue ‘em out for me, then?”

Appalled, Sanji ripped himself out of Zoro’s hold to wildly stare at him, jaw dropped. He blindly fumbled around for the handle – not once looking away – to quickly twist the knob and swing the door open. Throwing one last disgusted sneer in the CEO’s direction, Sanji stormed out for the waiting Yagara in the driveway—ungraciously slamming the door behind him.

Sanji lightly tossed his backpack into the backseat before climbing in after it. The driver gave a friendly greeting, which he returned, but understood from his lack of enthusiasm that he didn’t want to take part in any of the usual idle chit chat. He felt relieved he was left alone, finally able to slump in an exhausted mess without greedy hands pawing at him.

The ride was expected to take just under an hour, but after dozing off right after leaving Zoro’s street, Sanji found himself being woken up by the driver—sitting parked outside the entrance of his apartment complex. Blinking away the fuzziness in his vision, Sanji pulled his bag into his lap and thanked the driver before getting out, wincing as he stood.

Thankful he didn’t have to ride his bike across town after the night he had, Sanji still curled his lip at the thought of Zoro being so insistent; he felt as if he were being exploited once Zoro found out how impossible it was for Sanji to deny good sex.

Sanji grumbled to himself all the way into the elevator and even continued as he stomped down his hallway. He placed his head against the door with a small thud, looking down as he fished his keys from his pocket and maneuvered to the right one. Breathing out a long and tired sigh, he inserted his key.

The door across from him suddenly opened.

“Oh—hey Sanji!”

Rolling his head over the door’s surface until he was able to lift it up and turn around, Sanji smiled at his neighbor, “Hey, Gin.”

Assumedly on his way to continue working on his car downstairs, Gin stepped through his door – letting it fall closed – as he wiped his greasy hands on a red rag. There were still remnants of oil smeared across a cheek. Sanji thought it added to his rugged charm.

“How are you?” he asked after tucking the cloth into the back pocket of his worn jeans. Just as he always did, Gin’s eyes trailed down Sanji’s body as he spoke, drinking in as much of him as he could before Sanji inevitably disappeared into his apartment. Upon reaching his chest, Gin’s eyes widened, “Are you okay?”

“M’fine,” Sanji said with a quirk of his eyebrow.

“You seem…” Choosing his next words wisely, knowing Sanji was easily irritated, he hesitated. One of his fingers dug under the ratty headband he frequently wore, giving a good scratch at his temple as he thought of the right word. Leaning on a hip, he finally returned to meet Sanji’s gaze, settling on, “overworked.”

Sanji didn’t think he had any room to talk – it wasn’t him who had permanent bags under his eyes – but he wouldn’t take offense, knowing that’s not how his friend had meant it. But it was fair of Gin to ask since he had probably never actually seen Sanji looking anything less than perfect once he left his place—it just wasn’t his style. And right now, Sanji was sure he looked a mess.  

“Yeah, I am very overworked.” 

Gin had no idea just how hard he had been worked—all day and night and all over again.

It seemed as if Gin wanted to say more, so Sanji politely waited for him to speak, but he never did. His dark, sunken eyes zig-zagged to anywhere but Sanji, avoiding eye contact now that his initial conversation had ended. Trying his best to avoid any more of the awkward pause, Sanji jerked his head to gesture behind him.

“Well, I’m heading inside. It was nice catching you,” he said with a friendly smile and made to leave.

Gin slightly extended his hand, “Wait–!”

“–OH, SANJI!”

Cutting Gin off was another person. The two of them whipped around to peer down the hall toward the elevator. After squinting and recognizing his own bike being wheeled his way, Sanji was surprised to see that cute pink-haired kid from Santoryu. He had forgotten all about how his bike would get back to him. Honestly, Sanji expected the damn thing to be already safely tucked away inside—rich people were scary with their resources.

“Koby?”

“What great timing, right?!” Koby giggled with a tilt of his head, wearing an adorably innocent smile so wide his eyes were scrunched closed. 

Once again in khakis and a button up, Sanji figured he was most likely pulled straight from work to make this special delivery. Though it seemed as if Koby didn’t mind doing what he did, it was still hard to not let himself feel a little guilty for making him come all the way out here over and over. He truly hoped he was being compensated well for his time.

“Ah, thank you so much,” Sanji genuinely said, sighing with relief when Koby handed his bike over. He popped the kickstand. “I appreciate this. Really.”

“Oh, it’s no problem at all, Sanji! I’m happy to help.” Scrolling through his phone, Koby pulled down his glasses from atop his head and mumbled to himself until he found what he was looking for. “Annnd Mr. Roro–”

“GAH!” Sanji suddenly spat as he lurched forward to hastily cover Koby’s mouth to keep him from finishing that sentence. Boring holes down into the kid’s wide, fear-stricken eyes, Sanji desperately tried telepathically communicating through severe, intense staring. It was then he realized he had practically assaulted Koby. 

Slowly letting him go and settling his hands on Koby’s shoulders, Sanji delicately fixed his shirt and gave it a good wipe of non-existent dust before settling his balled fists at his sides. He flicked his eyes toward Gin so the kid would hopefully understand.

Koby looked where he was being directed. He blinked a few times at Gin as the situation registered. “Hello.” Stiffly, he turned back to Sanji. “I see.” Checking his phone one more time to confirm the words, he continued inconspicuously the best he could. “Uhm. He says, ‘found a button’.”

Instantly, Sanji got in Koby’s face again. “You tell that motherfucker that he–”

Sanji abruptly stopped. Forgetting who he was talking to and who also was watching very closely, he backtracked.

“Sorry—I mean… thank you for passing that absolutely unnecessary message along,” Sanji said a little more calmly. 

Before Koby could brush it off, Sanji heard Gin confusedly say, “A button…?” 

Sanji turned just in time to see his neighbor’s eyes, once again, glued to his disheveled shirt with a horrified expression. Thinking there was no way he could look that bad, Sanji glanced down at himself, too.

Oh, how he was going to slaughter Zoro the next time he saw him.

All the sucking and kissing and biting from their physical activities had left him littered in red and purple marks, all out on display for anyone to see. Sanji covered his face with both hands, slipping them down as he internally groaned at how complicated his life had just become. All he wanted to do was get home peacefully.  

Ignoring the questions that were spilling from Gin’s lips, Sanji pushed down his embarrassment and loudly announced, “I think I’ll be on my way now.” He waited a beat for Gin to stop talking, then uncovered his face to peer down at Koby. “Thank you for the bike. Please have a good rest of your day.” 

“Anytime!” Koby saluted and spun on his heel to march toward the elevator. 

Once he was out of earshot, Sanji returned to Gin. “Good luck with the car,” he said, gesturing to Gin’s dirtied hands. 

Momentarily stupefied that their interaction was ending, Gin stumbled over his words. “Th-thanks, but—Sanji, wait–!”

“See ya, Gin,” Sanji dismissed, waving over his shoulder and quickly dipped into his home.

Door shut and locked, Sanji mounted his bike on the wall rack, pushing the straps of his helmet further on the handlebars so it didn’t wiggle off if bumped. After setting his bag down, Sanji could have easily face planted into the floor and slept for another twelve hours, although he decided a shower was a better use of his time.

If not for the awkward encounter in the hallway, Sanji would have asked Gin to use his bathroom for convenience, but since that was no longer an option, he carefully maneuvered around his own cluttered bathroom to clean himself up. It wasn’t ideal to use since it was turned into a makeshift darkroom, but it wasn’t impossible.

The shower had rejuvenated all his energy, even for how short and cold it was. He brushed his teeth and shaved over the kitchen sink, watered a few plants while he remembered, and jumped into some fresh clothes. Then, he plopped down on the middle cushion of his couch to start working. 

Bending forward, Sanji reached into his backpack to pull out his camera. On top, though, was the one Zoro had given him.

That made him frown. 

It was a nice gift, really. Thoughtful, even. If anyone else had surprised him with a brand new RyuCamera, Sanji would have been over the moon about it. Twirled around the room while holding it above his head singing his thanks until they told him to shut up.

Unfortunately, that was not the case. The person who gave it to him was a billionaire—someone who he had just agreed to fuck on the regular in exchange of world travel for his photography. 

“Ugh.”

Sanji squeezed his eyes shut to push that thought away. If he didn’t think about it, then that problem would no longer exist. At least, that’s what he told himself. For now, he set the box on the coffee table in front of him and pulled out his current one.

Grabbing his laptop next and sitting back, he took out the SD card from his camera to insert into the side of his computer. He still had a few days to get Zoro’s latest photos edited and sent over to Nami, but he wanted to get a head start on them. Especially since there was one shot in particular that he had been looking forward to since he initially took it.

Thinking back to when Sanji had spaced out in front of the CEO, a whole body shiver wracked through him. A magnificent accident. If he had not been given full creative control, he would have never captured such a moment. Sanji felt his breath catch.

As he opened the folder on his desktop to view the photos, a newly received email popped up in the right hand corner. It was a reminder from his high school art teacher. He gave it a quick scan.

“Oh, right,” he muttered to himself. 

Checking the date, he nodded. Since he had finished college a few years ago, his art teacher, Mr. Bon Bentham, had repeatedly invited him to be one of the photographers for the students’ graduation. He was the very person who introduced him to photography. Sanji had spent many of his after school hours holed up in the art club’s dark room as he worked through his first frustrating experiences developing film.

Sanji looked forward to the annual event. After the kids filtered through the exit to get ready for their senior night out, Sanji and a few other photographers from the art club hung back to catch up with their teacher. He really missed Mr. Bentham—or ‘Bon’ as he was directed to call him. Even though it had been nearly seven years since he was a student of his, it was still hard for Sanji to break the habit. 

With a smile, Sanji hit ‘reply’ and typed out his message; 

See you tomorrow.

~

Zoro stared at the slammed door with a smile on his face.

It was almost too easy at this point to get a rise out of the incensed photographer. In fact, Zoro had practically developed the perfect equation to make sure he could get a furious response every single time; a courteous offer or compliment to catch the ireful man off guard combined with a swiftly given innuendo typically resulted in a flushed face and spat insult. Bonus points if he interrupted the photographer.

Chuckling as he turned away from the door – listening to the rumble of the engine from the Yagara pulling out of the driveway – Zoro began to make his way back to the patio only to find himself suddenly in the garage. He scowled. Certain that this was the right way before giving up.

“Kuina,” Zoro summoned. “Patio, please.”

“No,” the cool, disembodied voice drawled back.

Zoro sighed.

“Set destination,” he tried something a bit clearer.

A soft bing answered him.

“Patio.”

Another bing.

“Thank you,” Zoro grunted—she still needed some work on indirect requests.

Abruptly turning and padding down the hallway, Zoro made it back the way he came, then took a left, only for the voice to pipe up, “Incorrect.”

“Damn it…” Zoro muttered under his breath.

Spinning on his heel and striding in the opposite direction, Zoro managed the rest of the journey with minimal trouble, but mainly just relieved the photographer hadn’t been there to see it. Most of the time he could navigate perfectly fine – especially when he just let himself instinctively go about the huge place – but sometimes he could’ve sworn the rooms moved on their own.

On the journey, Zoro dug his phone from his pocket and shot a quick message off to ensure Sanji’s bike would get delivered back to him by the time he got home—even adding a cute message to keep him in the photographer’s ireful thoughts. By the time he got confirmation that Koby was on his way, Zoro had finally managed his way back to the patio.

Happily dropping into his chair and picking up his – now cold – coffee before downing it all to help quench his thirst; absolutely parched from their activities. He then poured himself another cup, then snagged his laptop from where he’d shoved it aside. Gaze darting over the mess of code that he’d been playing around with in an attempt to find where exactly he’d left off before getting lost in his work for a few hours.

He absently sipped at his coffee long after it’d gotten cold.

Only brought from his work when his phone started ringing as a result of – pretty much – the only person on the planet that could get him to smile. Zoro swiftly saved his work and shut his laptop. Snatching up his phone and cold coffee as he headed inside for what would hopefully be a long call.

A grin lit up his face as he answered, “Yo, Lu—how ya been?”

Zoro immediately held the phone away from his ear as Luffy’s distorted, screech-of-a-greeting came blaring through.

“ZORO!”

One of the few people whose company he genuinely enjoyed, but also the only person he had left over from his previous life that could understand the disconcerting nature of being new money in an old world.

An angel investment by Zoro into Luffy’s harebrained food delivery idea had accidentally caused the guy to become a multi-millionaire overnight before immediately selling the company. It had been a surprise to everyone except Zoro who had honestly expected nothing less from the impulsive kid; he paid Zoro back, set his foster mother up in a lavish home, then jettisoned off into the world.

Ever since then, Luffy had spent all of his time traveling, trying to do and see everything he possibly could as fast as humanly possible. He’d done most things on a typical bucket list, and then some: he free-soloed the north face of Drum Rock in Nepal and nearly died; he backpacked across the Alabastian desert by camel and nearly died; he even went exploring in the Pequeño Jardín rainforest… and nearly died. In fact, most of his escapades involved him nearly dying…

Given Luffy’s propensity for impulsivity, it was literally anybody’s guess as to where the kid could possibly be at the moment. Zoro shook his head fondly as he meandered his way into the kitchen. Setting the mug down on the island countertop before setting about pouring himself the last dregs of the coffee.

“Where are you right now?”

“Just heading back to Beijing with Hammock—she has some Lily stuff to deal with.”

Zoro’s thoughts drifted guiltily back to the patio where his computer sat.

Boa Hancock – one of the wealthiest people on the planet and owner of Amazon, Lily, and all its affiliates – did not like him; part of it was because she tended to detest men in general, but Zoro had a pretty solid hunch most of her hostility was due to her finding out that he was in the process of trying to make a comparable replacement to her Lily. It wasn’t a bad product—he just felt like he could do it better.

Luck was – as ever – on his side regarding her, as she tended to just pretend he didn’t exist whenever they were forced to be in the same room together. And with her taking a liking to Luffy… That was unfortunately more than either would’ve liked, but dealt with regardless.

“Where were you?”

“Australia!” Luffy squealed, “I wrestled a gator!”

In the distance, Zoro just barely made out an exhausted mutter of, “I’ve told you—there are no gators in Australia. Only crocodiles.”

Whoever the voice belonged to, it wasn’t nearly shrill enough to belong to Boa, but was weary in the way someone sounded when they were inexperienced in dealing with Luffy’s levels of enthusiasm. Zoro could only speculate at what poor sap had been snatched up in Luffy’s whirlwind. Probably was already regretting getting on the plane with him.

“Right, right,” Luffy corrected with a snicker, “I wrestled a crocodile!”

Zoro chuckled at the crazy kid, “Glad you’re alive.”

“It nearly got my arm!” Luffy cackled. Far too light-hearted for the seriousness of the situation, “I had to get a load of stitches.”

“Luffy…”

“It’s okay though! I got a doctor with me—his name’s Law,” Luffy’s voice faded as the phone was pulled away and shouted, “Say hi!”

Zoro was met with silence.

A second later Luffy’s bright voice was back, “He’s shy.”

“When are you going to be in town?”

“Probably sometime next month,” Luffy boasted happily. “The Corrida is in Gran Tesoro this year, so I wanted to go.”

“Count me in,” Zoro muttered.

“Shyeah!” Luffy jeered, “You better.”

“How long are you gonna be in Beijing?” Zoro broached. He knew it was an almost pointless question to ask since Luffy never knew how long he was staying anywhere. Optimistically tossing the distractible man a bone, “I’ve got that thing with the Chinese investors sometime next week, so I’ll be in those parts for a few days if you wanna meet up.”

There was some muted conversation away from the phone Zoro struggled to hear before Luffy clarified a second later, “We’ll be there!”

“Can’t wait,” Zoro grinned, “Now, tell me about that croc.”

~

Another graduating class was gone. On their way to do bigger and better things—ready to make their mark in the great, wide world.

Or whatever got them to leave faster, Sanji didn’t care. He agreed to this so he could share a few bottles of wine with his mentor – who was also a good friend of his now – and a couple of alumni. That was the part that really mattered.

Taking photos for a high school graduation wasn’t the problem. That was easy. Sanji didn’t mind the kids at all, honestly. With multiple photographers, each were assigned a particular section to cover so every student would get multiple shots of themselves entering, walking across stage, and sitting back down with their tassel switched to the other side. 

What twisted Sanji’s bowtie into too tight of a knot were the damn parents. They were intolerable under normal circumstances, but adding their children accomplishing one of life’s first milestones at a prestigious private school? It made them rabid— abominable!  

Sanji wiped the cuff of his shirt over his forehead to soak up some of the sweat that had gathered. Now that the parents were filing out after their graduates, he was able to breathe freely again. These sort of events where timing was absolutely key – where a single second of hesitation could ruin everything – were beyond stressful. Now that the hard work was done, it was time to relax.

Glancing around the room, Sanji made eye contact with one of his class’s alumni, Ikkaku. She smiled and pointed toward a hallway that would lead them to Bon’s room. It was nice to know the others were just as eager as he was.

“Bathroom!” He called out over the dying, dull murmur of the thinning crowd. 

Sanji’s voice echoed in the commons, alerting another one of the alumni. He was a more recent graduate and this would be his first time joining their secret little meeting. Excitedly, he turned Sanji’s way and waved, giving him a confirmation they would head down without him. 

Taking the large hallway with the nearest restroom, Sanji hurried on his way. He noticed they had painted the walls a different color from when he had attended, even changing the floor tiles. Admittedly, it needed the update.

After washing his hands, Sanji splashed water on his face to cool himself down faster. Gently, he patted his face dry with a paper towel and looked himself over in the mirror. He studied his image, making sure his hair was still laying the way he liked it and his clothes sat straight. What he wasn’t expecting to see, with all his movement from over the course of the night, was the collar of his button-up had moved around to show off a single fading, purple hickey.

Before leaving his apartment, Sanji had made sure he wore a shirt that had a wider collar to cover some of the stray marks that hadn’t disappeared entirely—ones he distinctly remembered telling Zoro to avoid leaving. He had no idea one of them was high enough to peek above his clothes for all those kids and angry parents to see. One deep breath calmed him down. He was an adult and was allowed to partake in adult activities—like drinking alcohol with friends.

Sanji threw his bag over his back and swiftly made his way toward Bon’s room. There were several hallways blocked off to discourage wandering students and family, forcing Sanji to wonder if he should have instead gone out the way he came to avoid the detour. Trekking deeper into the school and around a corner, Sanji was brought to the remembrance hall.

A dedicated foyer that housed every single graduated student since the building was built. Out of curiosity – unable to help himself – Sanji found his year and scanned over the hundreds of faces until he saw four identical ones. 

Of course, he was the best looking one, but surrounding him were the other Vinsmoke carbon-copies. Sanji sneered up at them. They scowled back in return—their idea of looking ‘cool’ and ‘tough’. He rolled his eyes. It just made them look like the thugs they really were.

That was the last day he had seen his brothers with blond hair. Not allowed to dye their hair until they were eighteen and graduated – one of the rules while growing up in a strict household – his brothers wasted no time in saturating their hair with their favorite colors after photos were taken. Sanji didn’t understand the appeal, though his opinion never mattered anyway. It was actually quite strange to see them back to their blond selves now. Maybe they really did look better with red, blue, and green hair—but that was probably a stretch. 

With one final look at his entitled brothers, Sanji continued on. Normally when he came back to help out, he never made it a habit to poke around. Most of his high school career wasn’t so bad, but he barely made it through his junior year. Digging too deep stirred up a lot of memories, ones that were heavy enough to overpower the pleasant buzz of nostalgia. Sanji walked a little faster to get the hell away from anything that could ruin his night. He was determined to enjoy himself.

Beginning to pass by dozens of display cabinets and shelves for all the school’s trophies, awards, and other accumulated achievements, Sanji glanced from side to side—casually browsing. He momentarily stopped by two or three unnecessarily gaudy trophies boasting the schools prestige, but was startled to see a photo of his older sister in the bottom of one. 

Heart racing, Sanji dropped to a knee to read the accompanying plaque. An award from the reputable Grand Line University bestowed upon Reiju for her revolutionary discovery in entomology—a palm-sized butterfly. The Great Pink Hornet, she had named it, for its toxic saliva.

‘Non-lethal,’ Sanji internally recited in Reiju’s voice.

It had been mistaken for a common ‘white cabbage’ butterfly for its pale coloring, but on a nature trip in her junior year, Reiju had noticed it was not white… but pink . Thus, discovering an entire new species of butterfly which could only be found in the north end of Abustele’s National Forest. The only ones in the entire world and his big sister managed to not only have one land on her, but also recognized it as a unique insect that she hadn’t remembered seeing in any of her studies before.

Sanji was so proud of her when he found out—still was! Only a small amount of people would ever know or even remember her discovery. Just because all the excitement died down and no one talked about it anymore, didn’t mean she would be erased from history. The memory made Sanji’s chest swell with pride.

Reiju had a pinned collection of her favorite insects, and that very one in the photo was – for obvious reasons – her most prized possession. Sanji twitched his mouth back and forth as he wracked his brain, trying to remember where that particular one had ended up. He had a few encased back home but he would love to have that one as well. It was most likely collecting dust at his father’s house.

Letting out a sigh, Sanji put his hands in his pockets as he straightened. Seeing that photo of her – especially with a smile so large, enjoying one of the happiest moments in her life – made him miss her dearly. It had been a while since he had visited her. That realization made a pang of guilt wrench a knot in his stomach. He needed to remedy that.

“Sanji!” Ikkaku called from down the hall.

Startled, he jumped before turning around.

“You coming?”

He gave her a half-hearted smile and nodded. “Yes, sorry. Got distracted.”

Coming up beside him, Ikkaku looked at the cabinet. “Oooh, I see,” she said, dropping into a squat to peer inside. “Admiring your big sis?”

This time, Sanji’s smile was more genuine. “Of course. How could I not?” She looked up at him with a grin of her own. Holding out his hand for her to take, Sanji pulled her to her feet. “Now come on, I’m sure the new kid is growing restless to break into the wine.”

~

Back in the office the following day, Zoro stared lazily at the ceiling of the elevator as he could already predict the veritable mountain of things Nami would have to say. She was going to be upset – that much was obvious – but he also knew they’d been putting off several conversations. There was that conference in Germany he’d needed to prepare for, nearly a dozen meetings regarding the Water7 merger, and no doubt a hundred other things he’d already forgotten about.

His input was pointless though.

So much of this company had evolved into a sentient machine that he no longer had any control over. His face was more important now than anything he had to say.

Nami always did what the investors wanted anyways. Asking him was entirely a formality concerning a lot of the larger decisions, but that didn’t change the necessary bureaucracy of it all. It was why he preferred working on his own projects at home…

With a charming little tune, the elevator doors swept open to reveal the malevolent figure waiting for him. Her eyes flicked up immediately. Already rising from her desk as Zoro stepped out of the elevator—an apology at the ready on his lips.

“ Don’t ,” Nami held a swift hand to halt Zoro in his tracks. Her teeth never unlocked as she bit through the rest of her threat, “even look at me—I’m so furious.”

Zoro shrugged and walked by her.

As if summoned by his indifference, Nami followed after, but the indignant clip of her heels made it evident she still had a bone to pick. She held her tongue until they were in his office. Even waited for Zoro to slouch lazily against his desk and actually meet her gaze before beginning her tirade.

“I cannot believe –”

Zoro chuckled, “You know to knock.”

She sighed.

Hands flicking up in surrender to the entire ridiculous situation before dropping them to her hips as she glanced away. Her voice was heartbreakingly disappointed, “I thought he was smarter than that.”

Zoro smirked victoriously.

“Don’t…” Shaking her head in disapproval, Nami scolded, “Don’t be proud of yourself. That was not a victory—that was a tragedy. He was a good kid—and you tainted him.”

“Stop acting like I’ve defiled him,” Zoro drawled. “‘t’s not like he was some blushing virgin; in fact, he’s kind of a–”

Nami yelped loudly, then held up a finger in warning, “Shut your fucking mouth!”

Zoro snorted.

“I do not need to hear about your disgusting escapades with your ‘fuck of the week’,” Nami fumed. “And now I need to tiptoe around and make sure I don’t see anything else! I can’t believe you didn’t say anything! You—You—”

Nami made a strangling motion, then deflated violently.

Zoro waited a moment before grunting, “You done?”

“For now.” Nami was clipped and cool in a flash. “When will you be; a week? Two?”

“I dunno.” Zoro muttered, but didn’t try to hide the fondness in his tone as he spoke honestly, “He’s pretty fun.”

“I give it a week, ” Nami sneered. “You’ve been getting bored sooner—and he doesn’t seem the type to put up with your bullshit.”

“That a bet?”

Nami’s eyes flashed, but suddenly she was having fun.

That sparkling excitement was dancing in her eyes as she slowly leaned in to brace a hand on the desk with the other poised on her hip with clipboard still in hand. A devilish smile curled her cherry lips. Even though she could blatantly see that Zoro was playing her, she was eager and willing to be roped into it—she couldn’t resist a gamble.

“What we talkin’?”

“That new Kame XT you’ve been eyeing?”

“In gold?”

Zoro nodded—obviously.

“Deal,” she said without hesitation.

“And if I win?” Zoro countered.

A mischievous look flickered in Nami’s eye – something sinister – but she kept it to herself while extending a friendly hand, “You get to keep fucking him with the exhilarating satisfaction of having actually beaten me at something.”

“What’s stopping me from fucking him out of spite?”

“By all means,” Hand curling back elegantly, Nami leaned in with a honeyed purr, “do it.”

Zoro scoffed at the idle threat.

“That’s if he can tolerate being around you for that long,” Nami warned. “There’s very few people that can put up with your dislikeable brand of bluntness.”

“Like you?” Zoro deadpanned.

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” Nami brushed off the sentiment with a brash laugh. “You know I’m only interested in the money.”

Zoro rolled his eyes, but a fond smile touched the corner of his lips.

At least when all was said and done, he could rely on Nami being a pillar of scathing stability. And yet, even when she was trying to be mean, she failed spectacularly. All the dismissive comments in the world couldn’t overshadow the fact she was one of the few people he actually considered one of his friends—deny it as she might.

“Right,” he grunted to allow her an out. “So, you’re still gonna hire him?”

She sighed as though in pain.

“If he’s interested… yeah. ” Her admittance was curt and sour, “but there’s no way he’s going to stick around after you drop him,” Nami scowled. “They never do—or they cling and we have to give their photo to the front desk.”

“He’ll be fine,” Zoro waved her off.

“And how could you possibly know that?”

“He’s not in it for the money.”

“Well, of course he’s not,” Nami drawled. “His family is loaded—why would you think anything you did would impress him?”

“I wasn’t trying to impress him,” Zoro scowled. “You should’ve seen him—it was like pulling teeth to just get him to take a fucking camera,” Zoro drawled. “ I had to convince him it was nothing but sex.”

“Well, if you’re sure,” Nami sighed before admitting under her breath, “At the very least, having a photographer for you is one less argument I have to have every other week.”

Zoro quietly agreed, then added, “Anything else?”

“Yes, actually ,” Nami snipped. “Despite you treating this place like your own personal fuck palace—there is work you need to do.”

Back at her notes – rifling through them quickly – Nami was once more all business as Zoro made his way around his desk to drop into his chair. Slumping comfortably. Absently listening to Nami prattle off everything on his plate while letting his mind wander back to yesterday morning.

“Everything is all arranged for the premier; you just need to show up, give your speech, shake a few hands—you know the deal. I’ve sent you some notes on key points to remember during your speech, as well as a list of people attending just in case.

Your clothes are already picked out and waiting for you on the jet—however, they are selected based on weather. Cooler tones if it’s raining, the warmer if it’s sunny–”

Zoro nodded along tiredly.

It went on like that for a few more minutes, as Zoro predictably had to hear about all the events he needed to show his face at, even a few new ones. He hated the spring. All these events and premiers and galas—he preferred the fall when he was left alone.

With all of her integral work out of the day, Nami then, finally , addressed the last detail, “I assume you’re taking him with you?”

It was a question, but definitely one she clearly hated asking.

“If he wants to,” Zoro shrugged, “yeah.”

She rolled her eyes irritably, then turned to leave.

“By the way, can you find somewhere nearby that would be a good spot for photos—like naturewise.” When his request wasn’t met with outright vitriol, Zoro glanced up to find Nami was still only half turned away from him, but frowning incredulously. Zoro realized his error. Quickly correcting, “For Kicky—you know, some place pretty that’ll keep him occupied for a few hours.”

“Yeah…” she stated slowly, “Sure thing.”

Zoro could immediately tell she’d read the situation wrong, “It’s not what you think—it’s part of our arrangement.”

Something curious – and unfamiliar – flickered across her face before she declared, “I wanna change our bet.”

Zoro actually scoffed, “I don’t think that’s how it works.”

She refused to budge.

Glancing over the tight-lipped woman, Zoro tried to parse out what exactly she was trying to prove with this whole ridiculous game. He assumed she was trying to knock him down a peg – damage his ego – but this was the strangest way she’d gone about it yet. It was almost as if she were trying to lose…

An unthinkable option as Nami never lost.

All Zoro could assume was that this was likely part of some master plan to get back at him for the whole ridiculous blow-job incident. She planned for the long con. It was why he liked her, but not when her wrath was directed towards him.

“Fine,” he eventually grunted. “ What? ”

“Two weeks,” she shot back.

“Whatever,” Zoro agreed—preparing to weather whatever storm she had in mind.

With a chipper smile that was never reserved for him, Nami hummed a chuffed, “Great!” then strode from the office.

TBC…

Chapter Text

 wa·ter·lil·y (wô′tər-lĭl′ē) - a little pursuasion

~

The sun beat down on Sanji while he enjoyed a smoke on his fire escape—legs dangling inside his loft window while he laid over the metal grating, head and shoulders leaning against the railing. He idly kicked his feet against the inside wall as he thumbed through his camera roll’s history.

From the couch, Usopp rattled on about the new camera Zoro had ever-so-generously gifted him. At least the badgering about the knock-off brand would finally stop. Sanji was sick and tired of hearing about it, almost to the point of tearing his hair out. And now he had no more excuses. The only thing left to do was transfer the photos to his external hard drive from his old one and sell it off.

“I still can’t believe they changed the logo, too,” Usopp said . He held up the box the camera came in, flailing it around as he spoke. He tapped the branded logo in the corner for emphasis. “After fifteen years!”

“Mmhm,” Sanji hummed, flipping to the next photo.

It was the one he took of Zoro at the bar. His thumb was half pressed down on the arrow button to go to the next one but he couldn’t seem to let this one pass by without fully taking it in again. He really did like it—it turned out beautifully… at least for a portrait.

“Like, I know they have to update it every once in a while, but what was wrong with the old one?” Usopp shrieked. Sanji glanced up just in time to watch the instruction manual fall from the box and into his lap. “It looked modern enough to me!”

“Mmhm, same.”

Sanji set his cigarette on his lip and zoomed in to inspect the details. The smoke was hitting the lamp just right, it was almost too good of a shot. It was hard to believe nothing about it was staged and instead was entirely candid. That never happened while photographing people. The results surprised him.

As he sucked in a lungful of his own smoke, Sanji thought of Zoro’s unreadable reaction when he heard the camera’s shutter go off. He hoped it didn’t annoy him – especially since the picture was damn near perfect – it’d be such a waste to be upset over.

“Gonna be honest with ya, Sanji—I don’t like it.” There was a growly groan and then Usopp added, “I hate saying that! I don’t wanna dislike any Ryu technology.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Sanji noticed the bartop was so smooth and clean, he could partially make out Zoro’s content expression in its distorted reflection. The location and lighting would have looked spectacular caught on film. Sanji silently damned himself for not having his other camera with him.

Plucking his cigarette from his mouth, Sanji rested it on the fire escape—giving it a terse flick, causing the ashes to fall between the holes and float away in the wind. As he continued to stare at his camera seated over his stomach, it lifted up and down in sync with his breathing. When he deeply inhaled and let out a long sigh, the camera moved with him. His thumb reattempted to press the button to the next photo but he couldn’t do it—not yet finished admiring.

The photo was perfect. He couldn’t suppress a smile from creeping up. Sanji didn’t know how long he had been staring, but he knew if he liked it this much, he would have to get this one printed, too.

“Hellooo~! Earth to Sanji!!”

Startled, Sanji’s knee-jerk reaction was to kick out at whatever was suddenly in front of him—which was his friend. Accidentally giving Usopp a swift foot to the gut, he forced him down a few stairs. Sanji jolted upright and ducked under the window frame to see if he was alright.

Looking up at him, Usopp wore a very unamused expression. He was now sitting on the stairs holding his belly. “Really, dude?”

Sanji winced, “Sorry.”

“I take it you weren’t paying attention to what I was saying, then?”

Sanji continued to hold that wince and averted his gaze. Usopp mumbled under his breath as he stood, rubbing over his stomach. When he saw Sanji’s camera out on the platform, he nodded his head in understanding.

“Ah, you were gawking at your own work.” Usopp stepped up the few stairs it took to reach the window. Sanji moved over so there was enough room for him to lean on the sill with his elbows. “How conceited of you.”

“Hey, now!”

“Which one was it this time?” Usopp asked, sounding more tired than he really was. He gestured to the camera for Sanji to show him. Reminded of the photo, Sanji’s face lit up—more than happy to share. After being shown which photograph had him so distracted, Usopp’s face fell. “This is Zoro Roronoa.”

“Yeah, at Wild Cherry! Look at the–”

“Wait, this wasn’t part of your contract?” Usopp interrupted, his eyebrows shooting upward.

“No, I took this one on a whim. The moment was just right, I couldn’t pass it up!” Sanji sighed and slowly lowered himself to lay back down and rest his head on the bottom railing. He looked to each side of him and couldn’t find his cigarette, it most likely had fallen when Usopp scared him. “It’s gorgeous though, isn’t it?”

His friend took the next few minutes to study the photo. Just as Sanji did, Usopp zoomed in and explored all the little details he had learned to look out for over the years from being friends with a professional photographer. 

“No, no, you’re right. It’s a super nice photo,” he said and handed the camera back. “Weird to see you so giddy over portraits.”

“Right?! And check out this other one I took on his patio. The sun was–”

“Patio?! You went to his house?!”

Sanji instinctively curled away from the high-pitched screech of incredulity. Hesitant to elaborate when he knew Usopp wouldn’t approve, Sanji quietly let out a pitiful, “Yes?”

“What?! You told me you only went to the bar with him!” Usopp had grabbed Sanji’s pant leg and yanked on it in frustration. 

“I did only go to the bar!” Sanji said defensively, gripping his waistline before his pants were torn off. “...On Friday.” 

“And?! What does that mean?!”

“It means on Monday I went to his house. And… might have stayed the night.” 

Usopp gasped loud enough to make it echo up to the loft’s rafters. “That’s why you ignored my texts for so long?! That’s—that’s two times you’ve slept with him now!”

Sanji wasn’t going to mention ‘two’ wasn’t even close to the number of times they went at it in that short span of time—and he wasn’t even including the things they did with their hands and mouths. A shiver ran down Sanji’s spine at the memories. For being eleven years older than Sanji, Zoro sure had a sex drive that matched his own.

Sanji laughed to himself as he sat up and scooted through the window to stand on the stairs with Usopp. Throwing a hand upward, he said, “Easily shot to my number one fuck.”

“You’re kidding?!”  

“Wish I was.”

Sanji didn’t know how he was supposed to ever have sex with anyone else again—it just wouldn’t be the same.

They walked down the rest of the stairs and headed for the couch. Usopp fell back with a flop, cushions squeaking under his weight as he did so. “He’s that good, huh?” 

“Yeah.” Sanji sat beside him and propped his feet up on the coffee table, ignoring the papers littering the surface. “Who knew he’d know how to use that giant cock of his. Usually, they’re dumber than shit if they’re packin’ that much—all dick and no brain.” 

“Well, he’s a prodigy, so...” Usopp was sure to remind him. 

He trailed off after that and Sanji could tell he was still thinking about something so he waited for him to get his thoughts in order. Eventually, he mustered up enough courage to continue.

“By the way, uh…you keep saying that.”

Sanji furrowed his brows. “Saying what?”

“That he has a big—you know,” Usopp said, stopping in hopes Sanji would butt in and finish the sentence for him. He then whined, leaning his head back on the couch before sitting up to bodily face Sanji and whisper, “… bologna pony.” 

Sanji snorted, but quickly slapped his hand over his mouth when Usopp glared at him.

“How big we talkin’?” he clarified.

Sanji raised his eyebrows and smirked. “You actually wanna know?” 

With sudden wide eyes, Usopp leaned backward and dramatically waved his hands in front of him. “I mean, no, not really!” He averted his gaze. “But maybe… for statistics-sake…” 

“Oh my god!”

“What!”

Sanji pointed an accusatory finger at him as he sat up. “You’re seriously obsessed with him!” 

Pointing a finger right back, Usopp jabbed at Sanji’s sternum. “I wasn’t the one staring at his photo for twenty minutes with big, stupid, dreamy eyes!” 

“I wasn’t staring at him,” Sanji snapped, swatting his hand away. “Especially not with big, stupid, dreamy eyes! I was staring at the photo! It’s art!” Usopp rolled his eyes at him—not believing a single word of it. Grabbing his camera, Sanji flicked through until he found the other photo he had considered printing. “Just like this one, too!” he said, shoving the camera into Usopp’s chest. 

The picture of Zoro’s patio seemed almost ethereal. Usopp had to understand after seeing that photo.

“It’s just another picture of Zoro Roronoa.” 

“What?! Well—yeah,” Sanji agreed with a frown. “He just happens to be in the photo.” 

At this, Usopp exhaled, unconvinced. He brought his legs up onto the couch to cross under him and leaned over the camera, thumbing through its history. “I dunno, man,” he said softly, his whole demeanor changing. After a few moments, he handed it back. Sanji took it but was curious about what was on Usopp’s mind. Something had upset him and he had an itchy feeling he knew where their conversation was going. 

Sanji turned his camera off and set it next to his new one on the table. “What is it?”

Without looking at him, Usopp warned, “You gotta be careful, man.” He knew that already but it didn’t stop Usopp from badgering him some more. “You know how dangerous having that gene is, you can’t–” 

“There’s nothing to be careful about,” Sanji quickly cut in. “It’s just sex.” 

“Yeah, but—it can lead to more than just sex!” 

And Sanji knew that full well. Usopp’s gesture was appreciated but Sanji didn’t think he could forget even if he tried. Nothing outside of ‘just sex’ would be a problem, though, because he and Zoro had made things very clear between them.

“No, we made a deal.” 

“A deal?” 

“Well, more like an arrangement,” Sanji said with a wry smile. “Like an offer, of sorts.” He played with the idea in his head as he thought of the best way to put it. The longer he took to answer, the more suspicious Usopp became. 

With that knowing look from his friend, Sanji started to wilt—losing his confidence to tell Usopp the ‘perks’ of sleeping with Zoro. 

“Maybe… in exchange for letting him plow me into the next dimension…” Sanji looked into his lap and fiddled with his fingers – twisting them around – afraid to finish his sentence as he just realized what this was going to sound like. “I get to update my portfolio?”

Usopp blinked at him as the wheels in his head turned, piecing together what he was just told. Slowly, his head tilted while he narrowed his eyes as he came to the same conclusion Sanji just did. “That sounds… an awful lot like a sugar daddy.”

“Hmm?” Sanji hummed, feigning ignorance. 

“You—you just told me Zoro Roronoa is your sugar daddy!”

“He is not!” 

“He is!”

“Not!”

“Is!”

“I know!” Sanji shouted back. Both hands covered his face in shame. “I know he is!” 

Those words seemed to reverberate through the air, silencing their conversation. One of the benefits of knowing someone for most of their life was it became second nature to pick up on their little cues; their body language, social ticks, predict their next words – or more importantly – read the words left unspoken.

Usopp and Sanji were good at that with each other – and right now – Sanji was thankful his inner turmoil was understood. Usopp knew how he felt about the upper class and didn’t need reminding.

He also didn’t need to be reminded to not catch any feelings—to not fall in love.

To keep things light, Sanji clapped his hands together and happily chirped, “Don’t worry!” Usopp jumped from the sudden outburst. Sanji stood up, planted his hands on his hips, and proudly smiled. “It’s not like the way to my heart is sucking it through the tip of my cock.”

And as if on cue, there was a knock at the door.

Both of them turned their heads to look, then back to stare at each other. 

“Don’t look at me, man!” 

Sanji had no idea who it could be, he rarely received visitors. The only person who regularly stopped by was already sitting in front of him. 

“More flowers, you think?”

“It fuckin’ better not be,” Sanji mumbled as he made his way over. He half expected to see that pink-haired kid – Koby – and even then he couldn’t think of a reason for him to be there. Pulling the door open, Sanji felt the color drain from his face—jaw dropping to the floor. 

“Who is it?” Usopp asked from the couch. 

“NO!” Sanji yelled out and immediately slammed the door shut. Before it could close entirely, a determined hand jutted inside to grip the metal door. “No, no, no! Go away!”

“Uhm, is everything okay?” Usopp asked. There was concern lining his voice and he wore a worried expression.

Sanji had his back against the door, wedging himself between it and the floor to prevent the giant, laughing gorilla on the other side from coming through. That absolute asshat gave him no warning whatsoever before showing up at his place!  

There was no way he could let Zoro come inside—not with Usopp here! He would probably hyperventilate and die the moment Zoro spoke to him! Sanji hadn’t had the time to prepare Usopp; going over proper breathing exercises, avoiding direct eye contact, and teaching him the secret techniques of refraining from sweating through your clothes in a matter of minutes.

“Did you need help?” Usopp asked, clearly becoming more afraid of whatever could be on the other side of the door. He got to his feet but didn’t move from his spot.

“Yes! Oh my god – yes – please help me!” Sanji shouted. Calling over his shoulder he said, “You better move your fuckin’ fingers or they’re gettin’ crushed!”

Hidden, but still audible, Zoro said, “Who’re you hiding, Curly?”

“Sanji, who is at the door?!”

Still trying to prevent the unpreventable, Sanji squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. “Just help me, will you?!”

Usopp bit his lip, taking a few wobbly steps forward. “Is it… is it a burglar? Are you being burgled in broad daylight, Sanji?!”

Zoro pushed hard and Sanji skidded forward a few inches. Usopp screamed at the possibility of the danger making its way inside. 

“Usopp! Please, please, please leave through the fire escape.”

“Oh my god, it’s a murderer!” Usopp said and began running around the apartment trying to find a weapon. He babbled about never leaving Sanji to defend himself alone, how he was brave and – if they were going to die – they’d die together—to which he just screamed even more from scaring himself. 

“Get your ass over here!” Sanji begged. “Just don’t look out in the hall!”

To his right, he could see Zoro’s second hand on the door. The idea of the two of them meeting made Sanji internally whine, but there was no way he could fight Zoro’s stupid strength all day.

“Okay, okay!” Conceding, Sanji slowly eased off the door and moved out of the way. “Okay, fine.”

As the door slowly creaked open to reveal his new visitor, Sanji harshly rubbed his palms into his eyes as he could feel a headache coming on. Zoro was leaning on a hip—one hand tucked inside the pocket of his dark gray sweatpants, head cocked slightly as he gave his best shitty smirk out from under his black baseball cap.

Smug.

Even in such casual clothes, he looked annoyingly attractive. Sanji didn’t realize he had trailed down Zoro’s body, taking him in. He wore an off-white v-neck that had sleeves short enough to show off his banded tattoo. Though it sat loosely on him, it still hugged him in all the right places. 

Continuing lower, Sanji stopped directly on his crotch. The material was thin – worn as if they were an older pair – leaving little to the imagination—not that Sanji had to imagine anything. He knew all too well what was hidden underneath. His eye twitched as he struggled to wrench his gaze away and begged anyone who would listen for Zoro to not have noticed where his eyes were glued. As if he’d ever want to inflate his already-too-huge ego.

The ends of his sweats were cinched just below the knee, exposing his strong, athletic calves. Only just now did Sanji notice he had twin scars that ran over each of his shin bones—the cuts looked clean. 

Zoro switched to lean on his opposite hip, clearing his throat. Sanji snapped his eyes upward. The bastard’s smirk had evolved to a full-on grin, showing off his perfect teeth. Lazily, he pulled off his designer sunglasses to arch a brow at him.

Sanji felt defeated—he definitely was caught drooling. He gave a half-hearted attempt to gesture toward the entrance as he turned to Usopp, sighing his next words.

“Usopp… meet Zoro.”

~ 

Tucking the arm of his sunglasses into his shirt collar, Zoro lifted a hand in a terse jerk of greeting to the man Sanji had just introduced – Usopp – currently brandishing a folded up tripod. Upon seeing Zoro though, his hands slackened and eyes bulged. It wasn’t long before the tripod hit the floor – fear replaced with shock – as he recognized who Zoro was.

“Tha–tha–” Usopp pointed a shaking finger at him. “That’s–”

With a weak step backwards, Usopp blindly reached out for the nearby wall – only barely finding it – before starting to crumple. His breathing short and quick. A moment later, he landed back on his rear before slumping to the floor completely passed out.

Zoro blinked—that was new.

Glancing to Sanji, the photographer had a hand braced to his forehead and a mixture of annoyance and embarrassment on his face—Zoro smirked, “Nice kid.”

“This is exactly why I didn’t want you to come in,” Sanji shot venomously at Zoro, then cast a sharp look over his shoulder for good measure. “Call next time!”

Zoro lazily lifted his hands in acceptance.

As Sanji rushed to his friend’s side, Zoro took a step into the apartment and politely shut the door behind himself. He joined Sanji by the fainted man. Luckily, it had been a pretty gentle descent to the floor so Usopp hadn’t hit his head or anything concerning.

“Need a hand?”

“Considering this is your fault?” Sanji sneered, “Yeah, at the very least.”

Zoro rolled his eyes before stooping down.

Gathering the fainted man up into a fireman’s carry, Zoro made his way over to the nearby couch and carefully set him down. Thankfully, he was already starting to stir. Shifting with a groan – eyes fluttering open – Usopp brought a weary hand to his head as he collected his bearings while Zoro took a step back just as Sanji returned with a glass of water.

“Did I just–”

“Faint?” Sanji finished for him, “Yeah.”

“Ugh,” Usopp rubbed at his temple in an attempt to stave off the remaining vertigo. “Sorry—thought for a second Zoro Roronoa was here.”

“Unfortunately,” Disdain twisted Sanji’s lips as he tilted his head in Zoro’s direction, “He is.”

Usopp froze.

Ever-so-slowly, the man turned to look up at the other person in the room – hand still comically attached to his forehead – as he took in the sight in disbelief. Zoro could see the cogs turning and recognition sparking. A mollified whimper bubbled from the man’s lips as Zoro once more lifted his hand in greeting, but it was already too late—the man was back on the couch; unconscious. 

Sanji let out an exasperated sigh before flatly saying, “I hate you.”

On the second attempt to revive the fainting-prone man, Sanji managed to get Usopp upright once more before finally handing him the glass of water. Usopp took several large gulps as both Zoro and Sanji stood over him. His hands were trembling. Even after he’d polished off the water and set the glass aside, the man was still a little pale when he glanced up to look at Zoro utterly star-struck.

Zoro wasn’t exactly foreign to it.

Holding out his hand – watching as Usopp looked at it like it was something alien – Zoro waited until the younger man reached out to slowly take it. All of his movements were robotic. Clasping Zoro’s hand in a trembling grasp, Usopp stared with wide eyes—Zoro gave a sharp jerk in greeting before pulling away.

“‘Usopp’,” Zoro clarified, “right?”

“Y–yes, sir.” Usopp babbled with a deep bow.

“Don’t…” Holding up a hand while giving a polite grimace, Zoro ordered, “Don’t do that.”

“O–okay,” Usopp whispered—he looked about to faint again.

With an irritated huff, Sanji grabbed Zoro by the shoulder and wheeled him around to face him much to Usopp’s chagrin; the man gasped in horror, but was silenced by Sanji’s brandished finger. 

"Don't even start that shit!” He ordered, then turned back to Zoro with an angry hiss, “And why are you here?!”

“I need to go to Germany for some stuff.” Zoro shrugged, “Figured you might wanna tag along.”

Sanji’s jaw hung slack before being replaced by irritation.

“I can’t just drop what I’m doing to go galavanting–”

“He’ll go.”

“No! I won’t,” Sanji snapped at Usopp before rounding back on Zoro. “Also, don’t be so presumptuous that I’m free—I have work –”

“He doesn’t.”

“Shut up!”

Zoro’s smile steadily grew throughout the whole exchange.

“So you can go then?”

“No, I–”

“He can.”

Rounding on Usopp with his hands extended in a clear threat of strangulation, Usopp scampered backwards over the couch with a scared yelp. Zoro casually stepped out of the way. Watching with a humored smile as Sanji put a foot on the seat before launching over the back and grabbing the other man to begin bickering with him in hushed voices.

While Sanji was preoccupied, Zoro took the opportunity to cast a glance about the photographer’s whimsical apartment; a comfortably open studio loft. The main floor serving as a living room, the kitchen at the back wall, and the loft nestled above. Most of the space was taken up by the living area that was filled with mismatched furniture that looked to have been obtained through various second-hand resources. A coffee table at its center acting as dining table, mail depository, and general storage.

Plants were also everywhere.

Pots and trays and hanging baskets. An ivy had even taken over the back wall where the kitchen was nestled and had begun to creep along the ceiling line to adorn the area with heavy, traipsing leaves.

A staircase hugging the brick wall that led up acted as the photographer’s bedroom; bed, dresser, and some photography equipment hanging from the wall visible through the banister. The window on the stairway was still propped open to allow a spring breeze to ruffle the curtains—fire escape visible just outside. Its rusted grates added to the vintage ambiance of the studio.

There was a cluttered, yet organized, chaos to the place; everything had a home.

“Fine!” Throwing his hands up into the air, Sanji stormed over to the nearby staircase – stomping his feet dramatically – heading up to the loft above to get his things. He paused half-way up the stairs. Grumbling irritably at Zoro, “How long am I packing for?”

“Just the weekend.”

Sanji tsked.

Continuing up the flight of stairs before calling out again, “And what is it exactly that I am packing?”

“Something casual.”

A little more grumbling was the only response Zoro got before the photographer fully disappeared leaving the two of them alone. Zoro turned back to Usopp—only to find the young man staring up at him with something between awe and nausea. This was definitely the behavior he was more accustomed to when people recognized him compared to Sanji.

“So,” Zoro broached delicately, not wanting to cause another fainting mishap. “Do you work with Curly?”

“Who?” Visibly confused at first, Zoro realized he probably shouldn’t have used the moniker, but Usopp recovered quickly while politely declining, “Oh! No, no.” A proud, yet contradictorily bashful, smile gracing his face, “Student.”

“Yeah?” Zoro offered a smile, “Where at?”

“KUTF.”

“Nice—that’s my alma mater.”

“I know, I mean–” the man’s eyes bugged as he began a furious attempt to backtrack. Hands chopping the air in a comical attempt to defend himself, “I don’t mean I know – well, I do – but not like I— Just… Oh, dear Joyboy, pleasemakethisstop–”

Observing Usopp steadily unraveling in front of him at the slip up, Zoro fought a sympathetic smile at the arguably hilarious scene. It took little deduction to conclude this was Sanji’s friend that was constantly fact-feeding him. After the guy finally ran out of steam for his embarrassment, Zoro decided to free him from his spiraling.

“What you studying?”

He looked at Zoro as though he’d grown a third head.

“Uh…” Usopp hummed as Zoro waited patiently. The man seemed shocked that he was actually being asked a question. Eventually, he got his bearings back long enough to squeak out with a blush, “Computer science.”

Zoro made a soft noise of acknowledgment, but decided against pointing out that had been his as well—he had an inkling this guy already knew that. The fainting was beginning to make a lot more sense. This idolization went a little beyond simple celebrity worship.

“B–b–by the way,” Usopp stuttered, then gulped in an attempt to steel himself. He gestured nervously towards the coffee table where both Sanji’s new camera and old currently sat, “Thanks for getting him a new camera—I’ve been harping on him for ages about it.”

“He was reluctant,” Zoro agreed.

“Tell me about it!” Ease returned to the other man as he heaved a frustrated sigh and then gestured to the cameras, “He can be so stubborn .”

Zoro felt the corner of his mouth twitch unconsciously – then fought back a smile – as he muttered offhandedly, “I’ve noticed.”

“I can hear you,” Sanji snapped loudly from above.

“Whaddya want?” Zoro barked back, “A medal?”

“I explained multiple times that he’s working with embarrassingly out-dated tech,” Usopp groaned. And Zoro watched bemused as they guy began to work himself into a tirade that was well-rehearsed enough that it was safe to assume it had been performed for Sanji on multiple occasions, “It’s only got a twenty-one megapixel sensor and can only manage four point five fps burst shooting – the industry standard is easily double that now – and trying to get him to switch from the DSLR to mirrorless has been a nightmare. I’ve told him a thousand times – No! Eight thousand times! – that it would revolutionize his outdoor photography but nooooo —”

“Oi!”

They both glanced up to find Sanji leaning against the railing from the loft, his expression less than impressed, “I said I can fucking hear you.”

“Am I wrong?” Usopp flailed in exasperation. “Tell me I’m wrong!”

“Sue me for not wanting to replace something that still works just fine! I still produce good work, don’t I?” Sanji defended hotly, “And you got some balls lecturing me about being a little sentimental—that truck of yours has had two wheels in the scrap pile for years .”

Usopp meeped, suddenly sheepish.

“C’mon, man. That’s different and you know it.”

Leaning over the railing with narrowed eyes, Sanji slowly shook his head, “No, it ain’t.”

“Merry’s got nothing to do with my work though,” Usopp brandished a finger. “You leave her out of this.”

“You’re the one who started it!”

Zoro watched the escalating banter with reserved fondness—it reminded him a lot of himself and Luffy.

In a bold move, Usopp scooped up the camera off the table – though notably mindful of its sentimentality – then looked up defiantly at Sanji, “This is for your own good.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! What’re you—HEY–” Sanji bellowed. “Get back here!”

Usopp yelped, but ran.

“SonicetomeetyouZoroRoronoabutgottagoorI’lldiebye!”

Nabbing a backpack slouched near the wall as he did, Usopp sprinted out the door as Sanji came racing down the stairs several at a time. An expertly executed vault over the lower part of the railing had him skidding several feet. Recovering with only a minor stumble, he disappeared around the corner after his friend with several choice words.

“If you put even one scratch on her; I’ll fuckin’ skin you!”

And then Zoro was alone.

As Sanji’s voice grew notably distant, he occupied himself with a more deliberate gander about the place while waiting for the photographer to return. He took note of the more personal decorations that adorned the modest flat; the plants, the knick-knacks, and the photography paraphernalia. Hand-knitted blankets and half-finished books. A forgotten mug nestled on the shelf with the tea bag tag hanging out.

And the walls.

All of them covered as high as the photographer could reasonably reach with photographs. There were portraits and landscapes and animals. Some were pinned to the wall while others were hung safely in mismatched frames—most looking second-hand, except for one. The frame on one was clearly made from an expensive hardwood; intricately carved and finely lacquered. However, inside didn’t house a photo, but a moth.

Gorgeously vibrant, even at a distance, the pastel blues and deep blacks made it stand out notably amongst the supple, earthy colors of the photos surrounding it. Zoro casually meandered over to get a better look. Making note of the scientific name inked below the expertly pinned insect, as well as the signature of ownership that Zoro only recognized by the surname Vinsmoke—likely a family member.

Zoro’s gaze drifted, but froze in surprise at a familiar face.

One of the most recent additions was a photo of himself – a marginally uncomfortable fact – but it appeared as though the photographer had hung it for the compositional quality rather than the subject; the way the shadows highlighted his face was a testimony to Sanji’s skill.

Zoro vaguely remembered how giddy Sanji had been after taking it.

And this passion was readily apparent throughout the chaotic collage of this apartment. Whether they were simple moments with friends or imposing landscapes; all of them were works of art.

Just as Zoro finished his perusing, he heard Sanji’s return indicated by the loud stomping, the slamming of a door, and the vehemently muttered, “I got pictures on that, goddammit—”

Sanji rounded the corner to find Zoro waiting patiently.

“The fuck’re you staring at?!” Sanji snarled, “Move!”

Pointlessly shoving Zoro in the chest as he stalked past, Sanji made his way back to the living room while Zoro allowed himself to teeter a little from the force. He chuckled at the useless, excessive violence. It was just oddly endearing by this point.

“Guess you have no choice but to use my camera now, huh?”

“‘Your camera’,” Sanji scoffed so hard it sounded like it hurt. He rounded on Zoro incredulously, then sneered, “Fucking please —some poor guy in your tech department made it and you slapped your name on it.”

Zoro debated splitting hairs, but decided to let it go.

He grinned, “You’re not wrong.”

“Oh-ho!” Sanji reared back in astonishment. Arms spread wide as he pontificated to an imaginary audience before cupping a hand at his mouth to mimic a loudspeaker, “Stop the presses! This guy just admitted he was wrong!”

The photographer spun back to face Zoro flatly.

“Also, I thought this was my camera? You gave it to me.” Sanji drawled, “Or do we have joint-custody—mandatory weekend visits?”

Zoro ignored him, “You ready?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Storming back up the stairs, Sanji was only gone a moment before returning with a bag slung over his shoulder. He then – unabashedly peeved – snagged the Ryu camera still in its bag before rounding on Zoro. Heaving a reluctant sigh, “So what time’s the flight?”

Zoro smirked—the photographer was delightfully ignorant.

“Whenever I say so.”

~

The car quietly drifted around the curves of the road until they came out to the very edge of the airport. As if he had done it a hundred times – which he very well may have – Zoro rounded the corner to drive next to the building where an endless row of planes were parked. Sanji watched as they passed large and small ones, from airlines he recognized to ones he didn’t until they neared the end.

Zoro took a sharp turn to get closer to a slate-black airplane. Written on the tail in gold and in the same font as Santoryu Tech was Roronoa. It was bigger than he had expected for Zoro’s private transportation—it was definitely more than he needed.  

Out of the car and bag over his shoulder, Sanji stamped out a cigarette while watching Zoro casually toss his key fob to a young man who was still jogging his way over. The reality of everything happening around Sanji was starting to settle in all over again because he suddenly felt an uneasy knot form in the pit of his stomach. Zoro turned to make his way up the stairs to his private jumbo jet without a look back to see if the young man had even caught his keys. 

It just didn’t feel right to Sanji—it felt hypocritical of him! 

Before Zoro could duck inside the archway, Sanji spoke up to get his attention – “Uhm, hey.” – but the loud roar of the surrounding planes drowned out his first attempt. Trying again with a “Zoro!” got the CEO to turn to look as Sanji waved him down.

“Forget something?”

Sanji shook his head. “No… I just–”

“What, then?” Zoro jeered, “Afraid of flying?”

“Ugh—no! Just–!” Sanji wasn’t sure what to say. Zoro had gone well out of his way to pick him up from his place to bring him along on his business trip. “I don’t feel right going through with this. Like going with you, I mean.”

Zoro quirked an eyebrow at him, “You… don’t want to go?”

Sanji shook his head, hand on the back of his neck as he looked away. He felt a little awkward for being an inconvenience to the busy billionaire. 

Zoro leaned his weight onto a foot and said with exasperation, “Well, what’ll it take, then?”

Sanji frowned. A little unsure if he heard him correctly, Sanji stepped up to Zoro, suddenly feeling very irritated. “What did you just fuckin’ say?”

How many times did he have to explain to this guy that he couldn’t just hand him a check and he’d do whatever he wanted?! Money may get Zoro anything he desired, but he wouldn’t get Sanji—at least not like that. 

Zoro blinked at him, deadpan, before heaving a sigh. “What will make this not weird?” He intensely held Sanji’s stare, waiting for his reply. Standing their ground in silence until Zoro thrust his arm out to vaguely gesture behind himself. “How exactly are you supposed to be a travel photographer if you stay here?”

Sanji’s eyebrows shot up in dismay before he backed off. He looked down at his feet, an attempt to avoid answering. 

“Well?”

There was nothing to say.

Zoro was right—unfortunately. How was he supposed to expand his portfolio if he didn’t go along with what he had agreed with in the first place? Wasn’t this what he wanted? This amazing opportunity Zoro had offered him? When else, if not now, would he ever get this sort of chance to capture the world as he sees it?

Grimacing, Sanji still couldn’t stop thinking about the cars, the planes, the personal employees and lackeys… the type of lifestyle he left behind!

Yet, here he was jumping right back into it!  

“So?” Zoro prompted. “What’ll it take?”

Sanji couldn’t deny he wanted to go with him.

“Uhm…” Sanji looked around, watching a plane in the distance take off. There had to be something that could satisfy his conscience. 

And then, he had an idea.

“What if… you donated to something? Like a charity?”

Zoro looked incredulous at the suggestion. “A charity?” Sanji nodded, trying to seem confident in his suggestion. And then Zoro shrugged and simply said, “Alright.”

Zoro dropped his duffle to the concrete and fished his phone from his sweatpant’s pocket to start furiously thumbing over the screen. 

“Which one,” he said loud enough for Sanji to hear over the noisy airport.

Assuming he meant a charity, Sanji thought of the first one he knew of: “Biscuit Kids,” he said and shuffled behind Zoro to watch. He stood on the tips of his toes to peer over him, placing a gripping hand on his shoulder to keep his balance.

Zoro typed in the website and right there on the homepage was a ‘Donate Now’ banner. Donation amounts of five, twenty, fifty, and one hundred dollars were first but Zoro scrolled right on by to the ‘other’ box, and – without hesitation – thumbed in a number that had way too many zeros after. 

“That enough?” 

Was Zoro being sarcastic?!  

Sanji looked at the side of his head with bulged eyes, wondering if he was seriously going to donate that much money just to make him feel more comfortable about this crazy little thing they were doing.

When he made no move to delete a single digit, Sanji swallowed and attempted to say it was fine, but nothing came out. He tried again after clearing his throat. 

“Yes, plenty.”

And then Zoro pressed the BerriBank button to verify his payment info and submitted—the money confirmed and was done…just like that.

Putting his phone away, Zoro leaned to grab his duffle and threw it over his shoulder—Sanji’s hand falling away as he did so. A devilish grin pulled at the corners of Zoro’s lips when he saw Sanji’s still shocked face. 

“Anything else?”

Trying to form words, Sanji stammered a few times before getting out a simple, “No.”

Smugly, Zoro spun on his heel and jogged back up the stairs to disappear inside. Sanji stood there a moment, blinking up at the jet before realizing he should follow lest he be left behind.

Upon entering, Sanji saw Zoro to his left in the cockpit talking to the pilots while he turned right where it opened up to a spacious seating area. One side had a more professional feel to it with its upright seats around a few squared tables, and a light gray couch lining the opposite wall with emerald green pillows in the corners.

Setting his bag on one of the seats at a table, Sanji drummed his fingers disapprovingly over the black marbled top as he looked around. A TV hung on the far wall. Sanji walked over and felt under the bottom until he found the button and clicked it on—the first thing to appear was a world map with a small, red X hovering over the area where they currently were. 

Giving a quick glance over his shoulder up toward the cockpit, Sanji saw Zoro was still talking with the pilots. Currently, he was nodding down at them with a smile on his face as he listened. Figuring they’d still be a minute, Sanji decided he’d give himself a tour. Turning off the TV, he headed down the short hall to the next room—one less formal than the last. 

Immediately greeted by a bar – of course – to his right, and both walls were lined with couches that matched the one in the front. The far side had a table dividing through it that jutted out to the middle, which had matching benches around it. This area seemed as if it were used for relaxing and shooting the shit after official business had been discussed.

A door at the back had Sanji moving on. Assuming he was nearing the end of the plane, Sanji figured this must be where Zoro slept. He stepped inside to see a monstrous room—seeming much too large for an airplane. The interior was the same as the rest – all light and dark grays, emerald greens, and gold lining everything. It was actually quite elegant looking, giving off a sophisticated feel that still felt inviting.

The king-sized bed was low to the ground giving the ceiling a false sense of height it didn’t truly have. An open door on the far wall looked to lead into a small bathroom, and as Sanji leaned further into the room, he saw another TV and dresser on the wall next to him. 

Sanji wondered how many times he would be seeing this room – especially the ceiling – if he planned on tagging along with Zoro more often. Then he thought of the hundred other people who probably thought the same thing. 

Shutting the door behind him with a soft click, Sanji headed back up front. Zoro had taken a seat on the couch rather than the table—one leg casually crossed over a knee and an arm lazily slung over the back. When Sanji came into view, he looked up at him expectantly. 

“Get a look around, then?” He asked casually, locking eyes with him.

Flopping down two seats away, leaving an offensive amount of room between them, Sanji nodded. Ready to ask about a drink from the bar, he turned to Zoro, but the sound of one of the pilots cutting in over the intercom interrupted him.

“Allllright, you two,” he started off in a chipper voice. “We’re all set up here and are currently third in line for takeoff. We’re expected to be in the air in approximately fourteen minutes time. Meanwhile, fasten your seatbelts —Zoro–” 

At the addition of the CEO’s name in an accusatory tone, Sanji flicked his eyes over to him. He was looking down into his lap with a smile. Sanji figured he must have been guilty of not following the airline’s rules on more than one occasion.

There would be no complaining from Sanji, though, as he was happy to oblige. He pulled his belt over his waist and buckled right in. Just as he did so, Zoro smoothly slid down the line, stopping in the seat next to Sanji before obediently clicking his belt into place.

“Why?!” Sanji hissed, trying his best to lean away, but Zoro wrapped a strong arm around his shoulder and hauled him in. “Would you go awa–”

Zoro placed a finger over his lips, physically shushing him. Sanji scrunched his face, mouth pulling into a deep frown, before he readied himself to bite Zoro’s finger clean off. It was suddenly removed before he could. Zoro pointed to the speaker above them, wordlessly encouraging Sanji to listen.

Internally grumbling, Sanji angrily crossed his arms over his chest, tuning back into the pilot’s pre-flight announcement.

“–and please stay seated until the green light above the entryway turns on. I’ll get you to Germany in twelve hours—talk to you in eleven unless something real nasty starts happening.”

As soon as the static of the com cut out, Sanji’s leg wildly bounced. 

“You seem tense.”

“Yeah,” he said flatly. “Cause this is still weird for me.”

“Have a smoke, then,” Zoro suggested.

That was a wonderful idea. 

In a rush, Sanji finessed his tin from a pocket and pulled a cigarillo out, sticking the plastic tip between his teeth. When he had his lighter in hand, Zoro was quick to snag it from his fingers—presenting it for him instead. 

Lifting an eyebrow, Sanji wondered what he planned, but still went with the flow. He leaned in for Zoro to light him up. As the flame produced, Sanji puffed on it until a cherry formed, then straightened in his seat. He heard Zoro toss his lighter and tin off to the side.

Taking his first deep inhale was euphoric. Exactly what he needed. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes to focus just on the nicotine and nothing else. 

Zoro was at his ear. “Better?” he purred.

~

Zoro liked taking risks, but wasn’t stupid.

When it came to the photographer, it was excruciatingly apparent that the weight of his moral dilemma in conjunction with a crippling nicotine addiciton had him on the razor's edge of metaphorically combusting with rage. And as much as Zoro enjoyed Sanji’s fiery passion, he also wasn’t in the mood to be kicked in the balls again. Which was why Zoro graciously waited until after the jet had reached a cruising altitude before pouncing.

He dropped a hand into Sanji’s lap.

Having hardly even finishing groping the photographer – Sanji himself hadn't even reacted yet – before Zoro’s phone was vibrating against his thigh. He knew the name on the screen before he even dug it out of his pocket—Nami’s frighteningly perceptive abilities on display. It was as if she had sensed his impure thoughts.

Zoro dug his phone out irritably and answered.

“Yeah,” he grunted.

She dove into her duties without greeting.

“You need to be on a call with Lucci from Galley-La in precisely ten minutes,” Nami huffed. “So get your hands off that poor man and get ready.”

“Alright, alright,” Zoro growled—he idly wondered if she had a camera installed somewhere to spy on him.

Unbuckling himself irritably, Zoro tossed his phone aside on a nearby table before snagging an earpiece from his bag. He hooked it on then dug out his laptop. Slapping it down and flipping it open before rounding on Sanji with an amiable gesture, “Want a drink?”

“NO!” Nami shrieked into his ear. “No drinking—this call is important.”

Zoro ignored her.

Finishing the drag in his cigarette with a languid pull, Sanji's gaze flicked to the earpiece – astutely aware they were not alone – then glanced towards the bar in the back as he exhaled a cloud of smoke. He turned back to Zoro, then drawled with a deprecating flick of his hand, “What? No resident bartender?”

“That a no?” Zoro countered.

Nami was still incoherently admonishing him.

Sanji made a face. “Vodka cranberry,” he suggested. “Something easy so even you can do it.”

Zoro rolled his eyes, but nodded.

At the bar, Zoro quickly whipped up his own drink – all the amenities already within reach – then set it aside as he began prepping Sanji’s. He grabbed a pre-chilled tumbler from the fridge and a bottle of vodka. Flicking off the cap and watching the liquor bubble graciously from the bottle into the glass as Zoro finally turned his attention back to Nami.

“What’s the call regarding again?”

Nami was silent for a beat – notably livid at the sounds of drinks being prepared – before gritting, “R&D budget projections.”

“Right,” Zoro grunted with as much excitement as he could muster.

“Try to put on your more amiable side,” Nami sneered. “We’re still dealing with negative public perception about the merger, so our relations with them have to be impeccable.”

“Jeez, Nams,” Zoro attempted to cajole the anxious woman. As he finished topping up the drink with a splash of cranberry, Zoro lapped the excess liquor and tart juice from his thumb before chuckling, “Making it sound like the world will end if I don’t smile.”

“You’re already very unlikeable–”

“Tell me what you really think.”

“–so don’t make it worse.”

Zoro bit his tongue.

Nabbing both his drink, and Sanji’s, then heading back to the lounge where Sanji was sitting, markedly more relaxed now that he had a cigarette to distract himself. Zoro held out the drink with a pleasant inclination, but smirked as he watched Sanji take a bracing gulp without any forethought.

Sanji swallowed before immediately falling into a coughing fit.

Carefully thumping his chest with the side of his fist – mindful of his cigarette – Sanji managed with a wheeze, “Fuckin’ Roger’s chest hair, that’s strong!”

“Here,” Zoro grinned. Keenly aware of Sanji's preoccupied hands, he decided to have a little fun, “Lemme see.”

Extending a hand, Zoro bypassed the glass in Sanji’s hand to snag the photographer’s jaw in a playful grip and tilt his head back. He slanted his mouth over Sanji’s before a complaint could be uttered. Shoving his tongue inside with a brutish execution, Zoro reveled in the irate gurgling from the photographer – and the faint gagging from Nami –  as he made sure to be as tactless as possible while teasing the remnants of liquor from off his tongue.

Zoro only relented when he felt that tell-tale shift; when Sanji's rigid ire began to melt into acquiescent arousal.

“I guess it is a little on the strong side,” Zoro murmured against the photographer’s mouth, then released the stunned face entirely. He gestured vaguely about the plane, and the bar, before adding drily, “Make yourself comfortable—this’ll take a while.”

Zoro pulled back to appreciate his work.

Both of Sanji's arms were still raised comically in surprise from when Zoro had grabbed him. The ash on the tip of his cigarette was dangerously close to crumbling off. And the white-knuckled grip on his glass was conservative at best. His face was aghast, jaw slack. Only when Zoro moved to take a smug sip from his drink did Sanji snap back to himself with an animated shake.

His mouth twisted sourly.

Violently scrubbing at his lips with the back of his hand, Sanji then flipped Zoro off as best he could while still keeping his cigarette between his fingers. Zoro just chuckled. Allowing Sanji to wallow in his irritation as he moved towards the nearby table and dropped into the luxurious chair beside it.

Zoro set his drink aside before dragging his laptop over. His usual mask of professionalism slipped into place flawlessly as he turned his attention wholly to Nami and the call.

Every so often Zoro would cast a glance over to the photographer to see how he was holding up, but there was little to worry about; the man seemed to enjoy his solitude. He spent the first hour enjoying a few more smokes while sporadically jumping between his phone and his laptop. Noticeably professional in whatever it was which Zoro assumed must have had to do with the freelance work.

The next time Zoro glanced up, Sanji had reluctantly pulled the new camera from the bag, unboxed it, and was flipping through the owner’s manual studiously. His brows even subtly jumped at something particularly noteworthy he must have discovered. Zoro had to suppress a smirk behind his hand at the small victory. Forcibly focusing back on what was happening on his screen and being yammered into his ear, but remaining smug.

By the final time Zoro checked on him, the photographer was gone – much to his dismay – which left Zoro to the monotony of his work without any rewarding distractions. He continued to be subject to Nami’s endless correspondence before the shifting time zones meant she was finally incapacitated. The second she stopped haranguing him, Zoro closed out of everything before shutting his laptop with a decisive click and leaning back in his chair. Eyes slipping shut. A long groan heaved out of him. Hand sliding up to slip beneath his glasses to rub at the bridge of his nose to relieve some of the fatigue resting there.

A nap sounded fantastic.

Hooking off his glasses and setting them down on his desk, Zoro pushed to his feet with a long and exaggerated stretch. He braced his hand to his neck. Tilting his head away to force a pleasing crack which sparked a happy groan from deep in his chest before dropping his arms and allowing his eyes to flutter open.

Quick glance about the common area confirmed that the photographer had gone off somewhere – likely to sleep – but with work out of the way, Zoro was in a mood—so he set off to find Sanji.

There weren’t many places that the photographer could wander off to, and yet, Zoro had walked the jet twice – and ended up back at the bar three times – without finding a trace. He was about to just start shouting for him. Stumbling upon the bedroom a moment later to find the object of his search; barely visible through the dim lighting, Sanji lay curled comfortably on the bed with a blanket pulled haphazardly over him.

Zoro debated leaving him to sleep, but his desire got the better of him.

It had already been tortuously long since the last time he’d had the photographer, and he knew once they landed in Germany there’d be too many other things to deal with—he wouldn’t get to put his hands on Sanji until at least that evening.

Which was far too long.

Dropping a knee onto the bed – gauging a reaction – Zoro watched as Sanji continued to sleep soundly, even when he leaned forward on his arm the photographer was completely unperturbed.

A smile crept onto Zoro’s face—this could be fun.

Crawling fully onto the bed and bracing over top of the sleeping photographer, Zoro’s eyes traced the relaxed lines of the normally tempestuous face; always contorted with heated looks and sneering words. Sanji was incredibly handsome, but when at ease he was startlingly gorgeous—pretty, even. Lines and angles of his face practically angelic; those parted lips sinful.

It would almost be a tragedy to wake him.

Zoro decided to keep things slow for the time being to test the waters.

Fingers hooking in the folds of the silk blanket and dragging it off Sanji’s body, Zoro watched in reverence the way it twisted and clung to the photographer’s perfect, lean frame before falling in an emerald pool at his side. Sanji shifted minutely. Shirt tightening just a touch from the way it was caught beneath his arm, but the sweatpants he’d changed into were still nice and loose.

Flicking the hem of Sanji’s shirt up exposed a sliver of pale skin – a delightfully sharp hip bone – Zoro’s hand hovering over it as his mouth went dry with the sudden urge to touch. He could distinctly remember how it felt gripped under his hand. Sensation of it writhing as he pinned Sanji down by that spot while pounding into him—flexing and burning under his palm.

Zoro hummed at the memory.

Pausing to adjust himself in his pants before snagging Sanji’s shirt to shift it higher and leaning down to brush his lips against the warm flesh; kiss lingering reverently. He then shot a look up. Sanji didn’t even move. 

A frown flickered across Zoro’s brow.

Giving another feather light kiss in an attempt to tickle him, Zoro murmured against the skin, “C’mon, Curls; wake up.”

Nothing.

Lifting his head to stare down at Sanji – just staring for a beat – Zoro decided to be a bit more obvious about it and pushed back further until he rested on his haunches once more. Zoro dipped his finger beneath the waist of Sanji’s sweats.

No reaction.

In a fluid, gentle tug, Zoro slid the elastic band of the gray pants steadily down while fully bracing for a jerk and a kick upon Sanji waking up, but he never did. Zoro managed to pull them all the way down—no interruption. Waist line coming to rest on the photographer’s upper thighs to reveal Sanji’s pert ass. 

Completely naked, it was already deliciously full and tight, but sprawled in bed – with the sweatpants cutting a distinct line just below – it cast the illusion that it was even more ample than he remembered. His fingers itched to slip between them; his hips ached to press against them. Mouth already watering with his need to taste, and perhaps even leave a mark or two.

Zoro fought the urge for only a moment.

Dipping low, Zoro dragged a greedy line up one cheek with his tongue – leaving a sparkling trail of saliva – before pulling back with a growl. Sanji hardly even shifted. A possessive hunger overtaking him at the dull flavor of Sanji that now sat on his tongue—knowing he could get so much more.

Growing impatient, Zoro leaned down, only this time to give a playful bite that got a soft sigh from Sanji, but nothing more—the photographer was dead to the world. Zoro pulled back with a huff. It appeared nothing short of shaking the photographer was going to get a reaction, but Zoro decided on something potentially much more fun.

And more likely to wake Sanji in a more amiable mood.

Retrieving the lube from the bedside table and popping the cap with his thumb, Zoro settled back over top of the photographer; thighs bracketing Sanji’s legs beneath him. He poured a liberal amount onto his hand. Taking extra time to work it around until it was warm before dropping to slide between mounds of alabaster muscle. They were tight on their own, especially at the angle Sanji was laying, but eventually his finger grazed that tight opening. It immediately fluttered under his touch.

“ Seriously , Curls?” Zoro murmured.

A quiet moan was his own response.

Shaking his head in disbelief, Zoro continued to test his luck, teasing the tip against the entrance with a few gentle strokes only to have the photographer relax invitingly in response. Zoro bit the inside of his cheek. Forcing himself to get a grip – arm tense – to refrain from just flipping Sanji on his back and slipping his fingers all the way inside.

Slow and steady, Zoro worked his finger inside until he got to the second knuckle and shifted a look up to Sanji to find his breathing had shifted a bit, but was still fast asleep. Zoro was just impressed at this point; and was beginning to suspect the photographer might be faking it. There was absolutely no way that this guy could be sleeping through this, but a poignant thrust didn’t garner enough of a reaction.

“And I get called a heavy sleeper,” Zoro scoffed to himself.

With a gentle care, Zoro removed his hand then shifted to slumped comfortably against the headboard of the bed; the subtle rumble of the jet just barely apparent. He watched the photographer quietly. Heavily debating on continuing to pester him – and the ramifications – before deciding to keep going.

Being a little rough in hopes of simply waking the stubborn photographer, Zoro hooked a hand under Sanji’s arm and hauled him over until his head rested comfortably in his lap. He rustled a bit, but settled quickly. Huffing softly against Zoro’s thigh before resuming his nap.

“C’mon, Kicky,” Zoro grumbled. He reached down to hopefully coax the photographer awake. Fingers sliding inside once more as he murmured, “Time to wake up…”

~

Sanji felt a strange sensation. He shifted in his sleep, groaning at the weird feeling. And when it suddenly felt invasive, Sanji woke with a startled gasp. 

Opening his eyes, Sanji realized his head was resting in Zoro’s lap as he casually sat against the wall. Just as Sanji thought he’d look up at him, he let out another groan.

“Oh my god.” Sanji reached up to clutch a handful of Zoro’s t-shirt. “What’re you… doing?”  

The intrusion he had felt was Zoro’s lubed-up fingers entering inside him—his sweatpants pulled halfway down to expose his ass to the rest of the room. 

“What’s it feel like I’m doing?” Zoro said smugly. There was no shame in his tone, continuing to lazily dip inside, playing with him.

Irked, Sanji propped himself up and raised his lip to snap up at him, “It feels like you’re asking for a kick in the face. Couldn’t you at least have woken me up first?”

Zoro chuckled, his eyes closing from his smile. “Trust me, I tried.” He tilted his head to the side to look down at Sanji’s ass for a moment, watching his own lewd and languid movements, then looked back. “Thought you’d at least wake up when I yanked you on top of me,” he said through gritted teeth as he pressed his fingers deeper with a force Sanji wasn’t expecting, pushing him up a few inches.

Sanji had let out a moan that was closer to a shout, grabbing Zoro’s hip for balance. “Don’t do that!”

“Oh, you mean this?” he said and did it again, but this time he curled his fingers and dragged them against his walls on their way out. 

Another embarrassingly loud moan slipped from his lips from the pleasurable sensation shocking through him. He rested his forehead over Zoro’s thigh to hide his burning cheeks. With as much bite as he could muster, he gritted out, “Yes, that.”

Zoro softly chuckled and continued his passive fingering, lowering Sanji’s hackles more and more each time he dipped inside. Eyes slowly falling shut as Sanji began to relax again, allowing himself to enjoy a free orgasm or two. 

Although, if Zoro kept up his irritatingly slow pace and didn’t start rubbing him in more favorable ways, Sanji would never get off. He peeked an eye open, looking up at the other, trying to understand why he wouldn’t hurry things along.

Sanji pushed backward onto Zoro’s fingers hoping he would get the idea that he wanted more. When they were pulled out a little, Sanji couldn’t gain the pressure he needed and whined in frustration. It wasn’t enough.

He tried again, straining to get Zoro’s fingers deeper, willing to ride his hand if he needed to. As he struggled, Zoro huffed a laugh through his nose—humming with self-satisfaction.

“Want something~?”

Sanji hated that he could hear the smile in his voice. “Yes!” he hissed, trying to regain himself. Leaning back on his elbow, his other hand grabbed a fistful of Zoro’s shirt. “Do it right or fuck off!”

One of Zoro’s eyebrows arched as he paused his ministrations. “You wanna demonstrate for me?”

“That’s it, I’m outta here.”

He made to leave, pushing himself up but fell face forward into Zoro’s crotch. Stopped by Zoro thrusting his hand inside him – hard – and forcing out a deep, guttural moan from him. 

“Ahn!”  

Sanji’s crude whine was muffled in the fabric. After lifting his head, he planned on barking another insult but his thoughts were disrupted when he realized what was in front of his face—nearly obstructing his view.

Zoro’s sweatpants were tented, showing off the proud erection he must have been sporting the entire time. Sanji had been too distracted – and irritated – to notice if Zoro was enjoying himself or not.

Without moving his head, Sanji glanced up at him through his eyelashes. Zoro raised his brows, wordlessly wondering if Sanji was going to go for it. 

And he was.

As Sanji snaked his hand over Zoro’s hard length, rubbing him over his sweatpants, he could feel the minute buck of Zoro’s hips.

How fun.

The last time he had found himself inches away from the man’s cock, it was shoved down his throat with Zoro completely in control of his own pleasure. Now, Sanji found himself in control, despite his demeaning position.

Smiling up at Zoro in excitement, he pushed up onto an elbow and grabbed at the waistband of Zoro’s sweats, who lifted up until Sanji was able to drag them down his muscular thighs. Zoro’s erection bobbed in place when it was finally freed. The tip was shiny with precum that had oozed out from neglection. Sanji wasted no time to remedy that.

Sanji took Zoro’s cock down as far as it could go, not waiting to work himself up for more. Above him, Zoro softly sighed at the warm feeling of Sanji’s mouth finally on him. He wanted to make Zoro come undone. As Sanji started up a comfortable pace, Zoro reinserted his fingers back inside Sanji, giving him what he so desperately wanted earlier.

Sanji jerked Zoro off while allowing his mouth do the rest, sucking on the tip. A whine formed in the back of his throat. Being played with like he was and having a front row seat to every single tiny twitch and shudder Zoro reacted with was going to send Sanji straight over the edge. It was easy to predict losing himself in his own thoughts over Zoro’s pleasure alone. 

At the touch of fingers raking through his hair, Sanji tilted his head so he could lock eyes with Zoro.

Sanji slowed his movements, holding the base of Zoro’s cock to keep the head revealed. Zoro’s fingers came to a stop, too, as he watched what Sanji was up to. Tongue out, it curled around the head to lick at every angle, then Sanji closed his mouth over it to kiss and suck the escaping juices from the slit. 

The taste was exhilarating. Even a little was enough to drive Sanji mad, and Zoro was dripping. When another bead of precum welled up as Sanji squeezed the shaft – sliding his fist up until it caught on the bottom of the head – he was quick to lick it up—he wouldn’t let any of it go to waste.

Just barely, Zoro’s lips parted to let out a small puff of air, his eyelids drooping and the fingers in Sanji’s hair scratched against his scalp as they tightened. Sanji smiled around Zoro’s dick and dropped down to take him entirely. Zoro’s movements picked back up, now with more fervor and haste. Obscene squelching noises filled the room around them.

Up and down Sanji went, becoming increasingly more desperate to please Zoro, becoming needy to taste and devour him. He writhed with pleasure. Overwhelmed from hearing Zoro groan from what Sanji was doing to him, the blond released him enough to breathe and let out a loud, gasping moan. Even as he tried catching his breath, the tip of Zoro’s dick touched the back of his throat. After a harsh exhale, drool fell from his mouth, dripping down his hand and Zoro’s cock to make a mess in the man’s lap.

Before Sanji was ready again, Zoro increased the pressure inside, aggressively inserting his two fingers as deep as he could get them. Eyes crossed—Sanji’s vision blurred. Fighting a gag and refusing to choke, Sanji was desperate to finish Zoro off before he lost himself entirely. Almost mindlessly, he continued to swallow Zoro down.

~

Zoro watched Sanji come undone—victorious.

Releasing Zoro’s cock with a lecherous moan – head popping out obscenely – Sanji’s head fell back into Zoro’s lap while he shivered through his orgasm; a string of saliva hung heavily between swollen lips and the tip of Zoro’s erection.

He hadn’t even touched the photographer’s cock.

“Damn, Curly,” Zoro jeered as he continued to work his hand inside the trembling heat, “Just from my fingers? Aren’t you easy~”

Sanji’s eyelids fluttered.

Once more, Sanji was completely gone – lost in the throes of his inevitable completion – as he trembled blissfully in Zoro’s lap. The photographer nodded along to Zoro’s goading words as though they were mere encouragement rather than playful taunting. At any other time Zoro’s jeers would’ve gotten him a verbal attack – maybe even a physical one – but when Sanji was satiated it didn’t matter.

Even just the sound of Zoro’s voice was all the lascivious blond needed to hear to moan happily. The photographer was looking up at him in that way he always did post-coitus where Zoro could request anything and Sanji would likely agree. He brought his hand up to pinch Sanji’s chin between forefinger and thumb. Rubbing that rough stubble that the photographer kept neatly trimmed – the prickly bits poking delicately at his finger – Zoro stroked with a teasing praise.

Thumb reaching higher still to hook against a plump, lax lip of the photographer that was panting heavily through his recovery. Every hot breath washed over Zoro’s knuckle. Tickling the skin in delightful waves before receding with another needy inhale that left Zoro itching to follow that heat; reach higher and just stick his thumb right into that waiting mouth.

It would normally be a bad idea, but Sanji was shockingly lenient once he’d been allowed to cum, so this might be the perfect opportunity to press his luck; test some boundaries. He might get bit, but better his thumb than his cock. And if Sanji was amicable then Zoro might just get away with what he wanted.

Zoro shifted his hand higher.

Still keeping Sanji comfortably sprawled in his lap, but angled just enough that he could slide the pad of his thumb reverently across the pink, swollen flesh. Push and tug at it playfully. Watch the way it caught and pulled when Zoro added just enough pressure to allow the skin to catch on a callous; stretching it only to remind himself of how those same lips looked stretched around his length.

A flush began to creep across Zoro’s chest at the thought—his cock twitching where it rested upon his own stomach. Perfectly eye-level with the dazed photographer who watched it swell with a growing desire.

Lazily sliding his hand up to his own cock, Zoro hooked a thumb beneath it before bouncing it a little so the head could smack lightly against his stomach. The sound of flesh on flesh catching Sanji’s attention. He did it a few more times to be sure, then started lightly stroking it while Sanji’s eyes tracked the motion. Curious to see how far he could push his luck, Zoro licked his lips, then chuckled.

“Need something more, Kicky?”

Sanji’s eyes shifted to Zoro’s cock, then back up with a nod as his mouth fell open readily.

Zoro slipped his thumb inside—suppressing a moan.

Met with a sinful warmth and obscene slick that had him instantly fantasizing about the last time he’d been properly inside that same velvety heat. His cock twitched again. Impatience turning to boldness as he immediately slid his thumb in further to press against the photographer’s lax tongue and force it to flick against the digit; curling and coating it in saliva.

A happy grumble from Zoro let Sanji know that he approved, then proceeded to lean back and bask in the photographer’s dazed sucking. Gaze pinned on the motion while his other hand toyed lazily with the head of his cock. Stroking, and brushing, and rubbing to match every movement until he found himself stumbling out of the lethargic marathon of playfulness and onto the final sprint.

Zoro ripped his hand out of Sanji’s mouth.

Ignoring the plaintive groan, Zoro cradled the photographer’s jaw with an abating squeeze before gently coaxing the head of his cock back into Sanji’s slack mouth. Zoro failed to refrain from chuckling when Sanji complied, but whined lazily regardless. He gently slipped a hand around to curl at the soft, short hair at the photographer’s nape. Fingers giving a brief caress before tightening his grip to haul Sanji closer until the entire head was pressed perfectly within that delightful mouth.

Other hand falling to his length to begin finally stroking out his own pent up desire that had been building the moment he’d found the photographer sprawled so boldly atop his bed. He was there within moments. Body snapping tight as his release crackled through him.

As his orgasm peaked, Zoro’s head fell back with a hard thunk against the headboard and a stifled groan of relief. His hands tightening in place. One holding Sanji so he couldn’t move and the other cradling beneath the head of his cock; thumb working the sensitive bit under the hood to wring every last shudder from his body.

Through the disorienting pleasure, Zoro vaguely felt the sensation of Sanji’s throat working to swallow on his thigh. He couldn’t have stifled that moan even if he tried. A final, thick rope of spunk spurting out to paint the back of the photographer’s throat to match the long groan that wheezed out of Zoro as he collapsed back into the bedding utterly satisfied.

Chest grumbling happily as his hand at Sanji’s nape slipped around so he could press a thumb to swollen lips playfully.

“Show me you swallowed everything,” Zoro coaxed with a hard press of his thumb.

Hooded eyes gazing up absolutely dazed, Sanji complied by allowing his mouth to fall open along with an indecent moan and lazy flick of his tongue—it lolled against his lower lip invitingly. Zoro’s cock twitched one final time as a final bit of spunk painted the photographer’s pink lips. All he could do was watch in muted disbelief as Sanji’s tongue caught the last drop of cum immediately and swallowed with a thankful hum.

Zoro nearly relapsed then and there.

The temptation to just flip the photographer over, slide inside, and fuck him until the sheets came off the bed nearly overwhelming, but kept at bay by the irritating notion that Sanji had such a chokehold on him.

Heavily debating it before Sanji slumped back on his thigh with a content sigh, Zoro watched as the photographer’s eyes slipped shut, then glanced at the nearby clock – already doing the math on how much time they had before arrival – factoring in everything that he needed to do when they arrived before submitting with a petulant growl.

“You’re lucky,” Zoro grumbled.

Maneuvering the photographer off of him so he could pull the blankets free, Zoro slumped back into the bed, mildly put out, as he hauled the bedding over them both. He’d hardly settled into his pillow before Sanji rolled on top of him. The photographer’s head coming to rest comfortably upon his chest. Leaving Zoro’s arm raised awkwardly above where Sanji had weaseled himself as he debated shoving him off, but decided to let it go. Indulging the photographer by tucking his hand beneath his head instead, Zoro shut his eyes and allowed himself to fall asleep.

TBC…

Chapter Text

mag•no•lia (mægˈnoʊl yə, -ˈnoʊ li ə) – for a love of nature

~

Sitting back in the plain, yellow chair, Sanji erratically bounced his leg as he smoked his third cigarette since landing a few hours ago; it was early morning – very early morning – and the two of them sat on the patio for breakfast outside a small cafe named Sunny Side Up.

Honestly, if it weren’t at the ass-crack of dawn, Sanji would be thoroughly enjoying himself. He had never been to Germany before, and even though they were in the heart of the city, it was still quite beautiful. At least to Sanji, it was. He doubted the CEO gave a single shit. 

The buildings were tall and thin, and the frames of the large windows jutted outward to give each place its own charm and individual characteristics. Some were colored quite plainly, but there were also a few brightly painted buildings squeezed between them. The cafe itself was just as eye-catching.

Cute foliage set out by the restaurant decorated their front façade with multiple hanging plants that crept down the walls and little potted shrubbery guarded the entrance. Visible bunches of buds peeked out from the depths of each bush, introducing themselves to the spring weather, but still a little shy of blooming. Imagining the Sunny Side Up after everything had matured seemed rather a beautiful picture.

Sanji was also granted a gorgeous view of the sun.

Although not directly, he was still able to watch it slowly climb into the sky by following the harsh line of daylight it shone on the building, gradually peeling back the shadow of night, lower and lower. The part revealed by the sun gave the building a soft, pinkish glow. All very relaxing to watch—if not for the infuriatingly amicable humming from Zoro.

So bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, sitting there across from Sanji with his phone in one hand and his small cup of espresso in the other, casually resting over his crossed knee. 

“How are you so awake right now?” Sanji demanded while nursing his coffee.

Innocently, Zoro looked up from his phone with his eyebrows raised in wonder. “Hm?”

“Why are you so damn chipper?”

Zoro shrugged.

“I nap a lot.” Seeing Sanji wasn’t quite satisfied, he elaborated. “And I do this sort of shit all the time—almost every week, I’m traveling.” 

He went back to his reading. Sanji hardly accepted his reason, but let it drop. It didn't matter what Zoro said, he’d still be bitter. 

Sanji let his eyes wander down.

Zoro was wearing a stone-gray suit adorned with square, golden buttons, each with green gems nestled in the middle. Peeking out underneath a cuff was an expensive watch, which completed his outfit. Underneath, a white Henley that, of course, showed off his distractingly defined cleavage. His hair was styled – thanks to Sanji, by the way – and ruining it were his designer sunglasses pulled up and resting atop his head.

He looked good – incredibly handsome, actually – and that was the problem. The rat-bastard didn’t care to mention Sanji needed to pack a suit—or even a nice blazer he could use to fancy-up his outfit. Instead, Sanji was merely sporting a pair of khakis, a casual button-up, and a thin, jean overshirt. Feeling embarrassingly underdressed all over again, Sanji tugged his beanie down lower and groaned. 

Not even the impeccably embroidered, white anchors of his favorite shirt could make him feel as if he were on par with Zoro’s – and most likely everyone else’s – outfit. Stealthily, Sanji leaned over the side of his chair a smidgeon to compare their shoes. Although they were both wearing a type of sneaker, Zoro’s looked nicer when accompanied by a suit pant leg gracefully sitting atop it. Sanji subconsciously tucked his legs further under the table. 

Rolling his eyes with a defeated huff, he tipped his cup back and swallowed a mouthful of coffee to refrain from badgering Zoro for the umpteenth time. When he set his mug down, it slammed with a bit more gusto than he had intended, yet it matched his mood perfectly. Adding to his growing humiliation, their waiter arrived—right on time to witness Sanji abusing their dishware.

The waiter smiled as he set Sanji’s plate down. Before he could say anything, Sanji wanted to thank him in German – yet he forgot halfway through the phrase Zoro had told him when he asked – and completely slaughtered it. He tried again, avoiding both the waiter’s and Zoro’s unimpressed stare, and then simply gave up entirely.

“You’re welcome,” the waiter gently said, crystal clear to Sanji.

Sanji’s lips parted in surprise. Their waiter only smiled with a small bow to him before turning to Zoro, speaking to him in German once again. They shared a laugh and Sanji had an itchy feeling he was the subject of their private conversation. 

Returning to Sanji, their waiter asked, “Would you like another iced coffee?”

“Yes, thank you,” he said quietly, eyes cast on the table. 

When it was just the two of them again, Sanji sank into his seat until he was barely able to see over the table. “I hate you.”

Zoro looked down at the table with a tight-lipped smile, his eyes closed as he lightly shook his head. When he returned his gaze on Sanji, he cocked an eyebrow while - judging by his tone - teasing him in German. Though unable to understand the entirety of the comment, Sanji was still able to catch one word: Shutterbug.

Through gritted teeth, Sanji growled many expletives under his breath but did not reply. He was entirely too hungry to continue their never-ending back-and-forth bickering. So instead, he sat up and focused on his breakfast. In front of him stacked three high, were the thickest, fluffiest pancakes he had ever seen in his life. 

“These really are huge!” he said and immediately dug in, earnestly scooping up a stray blueberry in the same bite.

“Mmhm,” Zoro trilled. “It’s what makes them so famous.”

Seeming a little too smug, Sanji pulled his lips down in an exaggerated frown to mock with his mouthful, “It’s what makes them so famous.” After swallowing, Sanji downed his remaining coffee and glared across the table.

Despite the given attitude, Zoro grinned away. He paused his eating to gesture his forkful of egg toward Sanji. “You know, I’ve never seen someone look so grumpy while eating pancakes.”

“It’s five-fifty in the fucking morning,” Sanji snapped.

Not entirely done with his little tantrum, Sanji surged forward to steal whatever was left of Zoro’s espresso to make a point, drinking it before he could protest—though he didn’t. Sanji needed every bit of caffeine he could get his hands on if he was going to survive the day ahead of them. “And gimme these, too,” he added, standing up halfway to snatch the sunglasses atop Zoro’s head.

Sanji sat back in his chair with crossed arms after putting the sunglasses on and pulled his hat even lower. It might have looked to everyone else that Sanji was pouting, but he definitely was not. He was simply mad at Zoro for waking him up before he planned to and also conveniently forgetting to mention a more formal wardrobe—the added jetlag was not helping in the slightest.

While chewing, Zoro inclined his head toward Sanij’s plate. “Your food’s gonna get cold.”

~

“I can not believe you brought one of your cars here,” Sanji muttered under his breath. “Who fucking does that?”

Zoro just smirked.

Not about to say a word to the already hostile photographer – thankfully breakfast and coffee helped his mood a little – but Zoro was beginning to think that driving places wasn’t really Sanji’s thing. He was also clearly jetlagged. Lack of sleep definitely added fuel to the photographer’s already raging fire.

“And the suit?!” Rounding on Zoro with an even viler expression, Sanji gestured aggressively towards Zoro’s attire – picked by Nami – with nothing short of indignation, “You told me it was casual!”

“It is ,” Zoro drawled. “For you. I’m the only one that needs to wear this monkey suit—and I don’t even wanna.”

“This is mortifying ,” Sanji bemoaned. “I’m so underdressed. Why didn’t you tell me to at least pack a blazer?!”

“I could’ve ,” Zoro mused, “but it would’ve been a waste of breath with you. You’da told me not to tell you what to do—and to fuck off.”

“Just because you know what my asshole tastes like doesn’t mean you suddenly know anything about me.”

“Oh, yeah?” Sending a sly smirk towards the photographer before back on the road, “You woulda dressed up for me?”

“For you? Absolutely not.”

“Then stop complainin’!”

Sanji curled his lip, rolled his eyes, and dismissed Zoro by looking out the window.

Zoro wasn’t having it.

“If it bothers you so much, I can call someone,” Zoro offered, despite already knowing the answer. “They can meet us there with every cut, style, and color.”

“No!” Sanji snapped, turning back, but it was almost too quickly.

A swift glance caught the tail end of an almost distraught expression, as Zoro was beginning to suspect that the photographer had a weakness for suits; something he’d have to keep in mind for the future, but if only to irritate Sanji further. He’d gladly fulfill any whim. However, the price would be some humility on the photographer’s part.

If Sanji wanted to be stubborn about money, then Zoro had no problem playing that game, too. He’d gladly partake in any luxury or modesty that Sanji preferred, but he was going to relish dragging the request out of him; reveling in the undeniable hatred in the photographer’s eyes.

Zoro was more than willing to be patient in that endeavor.

“You sure? ”

Sanji snapped, “Yes!”

Swiftly reaching out to snag the hem of Sanji’s beanie, Zoro tugged it down – quick and sharp – to cover the photographer’s face and purposefully irritate him, “Then shaddap.”

Sanji immediately corrected the hat, but needed a minute to fix his hair; only then did he mutter petulantly, “I’ll shut up when you do.”

“Fine,” Zoro muttered with a chuckle. “Note taken… Shutterbug.”

Sanji crossed his arms, “Such a stupid fuckin’ nickname.”

The rest of the trip was spent in a constant – yet entertaining – state of bickering; much to Zoro’s enjoyment. He was already thrilled that Sanji had come along. Although the look on Sanji’s face didn’t necessarily allude to him feeling mutual on the matter.

Arriving at the venue and parking in the back, Sanji – surprisingly – put on a respectful demeanor the moment they stepped out of the car. His attention turned skyward to take in the magnanimous building. Hands carefully cradling the camera slung around his neck as he followed after Zoro as they made their way inside.

Even while avoiding the main entrance, they still ended up swarmed by the press waiting inside. Zoro stuck to the general script Nami had drilled into his head over the years. All the right things to say here and there to keep everyone happy; he could practically hear Nami wailing in his ear, ‘Think of the shareholders!’

More notable, however, was the fact he didn’t hear any speculative mumblings or blurted questions about Sanji. And realized, much to his chagrin, that the camera slung around the photographer’s neck made him practically invisible to the other paparazzi.

As they made their way toward the entrance to the backstage, they got separated more than once, but Sanji kept up admirably. He didn’t look pleased, though. More than once, Zoro glanced back to catch Sanji being shuffled about by the hoard of paparazzi with a look of utter disdain—like a man caught in a wave of his worst nightmare.

Forcing himself not to laugh, Zoro pushed on until reaching the entrance, stepping past security, only to distantly catch the indignant squawking of a very familiar bird.

“I’m not the fucking pap!”

Glancing back to find that at some point Sanji had been held back by security, Zoro turned back to clarify, [“That Shutterbug’s with me.”]

Momentary confusion eclipsed Sanji’s face at the use of German, but he caught the nickname which easily had him falling back to his normal, irate self. He shrugged off the arms holding him. Striding through the gate and up to Zoro, only to get right in his face, but surprisingly , kept his voice low as he jeered through gritted teeth, “I told you not to call me that, goddammit.”

Zoro just smirked, then inclined his head, “C’mon.”

Ignoring anything more from the photographer, Zoro guided them down the muted – and much emptier – back halls until they found the right door labeled ‘Backstage’. He could’ve sworn they had moved it, but at least he found it faster than last time. Pushing inside, they were greeted by the typical hubbub of backstage management – people running here and there while getting everything set up – so much of the staff didn’t acknowledge them – much to Zoro’s relief – except for the coordinator who gave a sharp wave of acknowledgment.

They walked through the dimly lit area, then stopped near the sound booth that abutted the curtains that blocked the backstage. The equipment, the lights, the ladders. Everything needed to keep the auditorium functioning, but far too ugly to have in sight of the audience.

At the center of the stage was a gorgeous car from Wano that sat on a slowly rotating pedestal in front of the massive back wall that currently had Santoryu’s logo emblazoned upon it.

There were already introductions being given at the podium, but Zoro’s attention was pulled away as a familiar face approached, the head of their German division—Saga.

[“My friend,”] Saga gushed happily. Hand already extended to grab Zoro’s, upon which he used it to haul Zoro into a non-negotiable hug, [“It’s been too long.”]

[“Good to see you,”] Zoro muttered.

Blithe and charismatic, Saga released him, then shook his hand a final time before letting go. His attention then turned to Sanji. At Zoro’s side, but decidedly disinterested in everything going on around him, Sanji reminded Zoro of a plant needing sunlight—wilted. The photographer truly hated being indoors as Zoro was quickly discovering.

“Sanji—Saga,” Zoro waved politely between them.

Saga shook Sanji’s hand firmly, “Pleasure.”

Forcing a tight-lipped smile – quite polite by Sanji’s standards, and easily friendly enough for Saga – the photographer returned the handshake with a terse jerk. His hand immediately returned to his camera—emotional support blanket. At another eruption of applause from the auditorium, Sanji’s interest was pulled away as Saga turned back to Zoro with a curious look. He made sure to catch Zoro’s eye before flicking his gaze at the photographer, then leaned close to mutter in German.

[“Thought you hated photographers?”]

[“This one’s not so bad,”] Zoro shrugged. [“Good for a laugh.”]

Saga cast a skeptical glance towards the grumpy photographer, and Zoro had to admit an exhausted Sanji didn't exactly exude ‘cheery’.

[“Jet-lag.”] Zoro murmured before Saga could comment.

As though on cue, Sanji got violently attacked by a yawn he struggled to hide modestly.

[“Ah-huh,”] Saga hummed, but clearly wasn't convinced. Thankfully, changing the subject, [“How long are you here for?”]

[“Just tonight.”]

[“You gotta plan for longer next time,”] Saga implored. [“You’ve yet to meet Maya.”]

[“Nami has me booked solid for the rest of the media cycle,”] Zoro shrugged, [“but we should do some big game late summer—Greece?”]

[“Your treat?”]

Zoro inclined his head at the obvious.

“Mr. Roronoa!”

They both turned as a stern woman approached – her demeanor reminded Zoro of Nami – with clipboard and headset in hand, “You’re on in five.”

Zoro nodded, readily.

Without a word, she went to work affixing the microphone to his chest while Saga gave a terse wave and wandered off. She finished quickly, then released him. Ushering him to follow as the introductions on stage were concluding and the rising applause filled the room.

They stopped at the edge of the stage, Sanji pausing at Zoro’s side and peering cautiously around the corner to take in the massive audience. It was a standard auditorium with multi-level balconies. Capable of housing a couple of thousand people, but certainly not as big as Zoro had had the displeasure of dealing with on occasion; this was child's play.

The woman gave a silent signal for him to go.

Leaning down and a hand gently brushing the back of Sanji’s arm as he reassured, “I’ll be right back.” Only for Sanji to give him a look that stated exactly how much he didn’t care. With a smirk, Zoro turned and made his way out onto the stage to get this whole thing over with.

~

Sanji was already so over the day and it had barely started. He couldn't believe someone mistook him for the fucking paparazzo! Did he seriously look like an invasive buzzard, always greedily hovering to ruin someone’s life?! What did he do to give off the impression of the pap?! 

Glad Zoro intervened when he did, Sanji tried cooling his temper while he fixed his clothes from the excessive and unnecessary manhandling. He then settled into the seat provided for him. It was less comfortable than the ones he could see just around the black curtain in the audience of the auditorium, but at least he wouldn't have to be surrounded by a bunch of nerdy strangers who spoke a different language than him. 

The moment Zoro reached the middle of the stage, the room instantly fell silent—all idle chatter quickly tapering off. The power he emanated ceased to surprise Sanji, and the way he easily commanded a room was undeniably aspiring – Usopp would agree – but that wasn’t quite it for Sanji. 

It was his aura.

It was so much different than what he’d expected from someone of his caliber. The only people Sanji had ever been around who held such influence were corrupt and unjust, so this was quite a shocker for him. It looked as if the sea of people out there wanted to listen to him, as opposed to being forced to attend . Zoro treated his status entirely differently than what he remembered of his father’s threatening one—something Sanji found himself thankful for. 

Zoro waited a few beats, dramatically holding the silence in his grasp until he was ready to let it go. It made the moment feel all the more intense, admittedly getting Sanji on the edge of his seat just as well. The crowd’s earlier excitement was beginning to infect him, erasing his sour mood and replacing it with a curiosity for what was to come. 

To see this business side of Zoro was actually quite… thrilling. Sanji hadn't witnessed much professionalism from him—most of the time he was being a lazy, horny pig. Switching from that to the actual CEO of Santoryu Tech was impressive, at the least, and had Sanji feeling more eager with every bated breath in the room. 

So when Zoro opened his mouth to finally begin his presentation, Sanji’s jaw dropped to the floor upon hearing him speak entirely in the German language. 

Of course he would!

Sanji facepalmed so hard he was sure even Zoro could hear the slap from all the way on stage. Tiredly dragging his hand down the length of his face, Sanji wondered why on Joyboy’s green earth he thought he would be able to listen to the speech. 

Letting out a sigh, Sanji’s head fell back to stare up at the dark ceiling. There wasn't any way to even begin understanding what Zoro was saying—even the enormous screen behind him was impossible to see at this angle. All he had to help decipher was Zoro's diction, delivery, and the way the crowd reacted to his words. 

For the first thirty minutes, Sanji zoned in and out. Going on to think of his earlier breakfast and how delicious it was, then where they were going after this and what they would do. Innocent thoughts didn’t last very long, though—his mind wandered into the memory of the sex he had on the plane last night.

Sanji shivered and straightened in his seat, gripping his knees. He squeezed his eyes shut to help him rid those thoughts away, as they wouldn’t do him any good in his current situation. To avoid pitching a tent, he tried his best to focus on Zoro's presentation.

Currently, he was standing in the middle of the stage, occasionally gesticulating with his hands as he spoke. Even though Sanji didn’t understand his words, he could still see how good of a speaker he was. Zoro’s posture was straight – shoulders back and chin high – and apparently was even able to pull quite a few laughs from the crowd—proving to be humorous and laidback. Sanji couldn’t suppress his smile, falling victim to Zoro’s contagious, soft chuckle.

It was that type of behavior that solidified Sanji’s initial decision when he worked his first gig with Zoro. Back in his office, Sanji remembered getting the perfect photo of Zoro stoically against his desk. But regardless of how impeccable it turned out, it still didn’t feel right to Sanji. 

And he had been right. 

Because the real Zoro smiled.

Occasional bursts of light dotted the audience from the flashes of various cameras going off. Subconsciously, Sanji’s hands inched over his camera itching to take photos of his own, gripping the sides and thumbing over the shutter release to soothe the impulsive need to do so.

Zoro began making his way closer to Sanji’s side of the stage to stand behind the podium once again, stepping up onto a small platform. His speech never wavered, undistracted by his own movement, and continued its perfect flow. 

Turning his back to Sanji, Zoro gestured behind him to now bring the audience's attention to the screen. Sanji leaned over a little in hopes of catching whatever was being displayed, only able to see a skewed and washed-out version of the projection. He sighed, blowing air upward at his bangs in defeat.

Unable to at least fixate on moving pictures, Sanji’s eyes traced over Zoro’s form. He could appreciate a well-tailored suit on a man, and there was something about the way it sat over Zoro that made Sanji’s mouth water. Even the back of him was enticing. Eyes dropping lower, Sanji smirked at his luck. Zoro’s jacket was just short enough, Sanji was granted the last few inches of the curves of his ass peeking out.

When Zoro returned to face the crowd, Sanji noticed the cutout under the podium—most likely there to keep the presenter from constantly knocking their knees against the back. The hole was large enough for a human to squeeze under there… someone like Sanji…

Abandoning his morals of keeping a clear head while in public, Sanji resigned himself to imagining being under that podium, secretly sucking Zoro off as he spoke to well over a thousand people.

The podium looked to be wide enough that Sanji would be able to freely grip Zoro’s thick thighs without anyone in the audience seeing, wordlessly encouraging him to subtly rock his hips into his mouth. Sanji’s eyelids began to droop—hooded with pleasure. Lips slightly parting, Sanji swore he could feel the weight of Zoro’s cock on his tongue and taste the salt of his cum. 

He felt… maybe a little lightheaded—high on the thought alone of doing something so scandalous to such a powerful man.

Sanji tensed his legs and fidgeted in place, stifling a pathetic groan of need.

How long would Zoro last before he spilled himself down Sanji’s throat? Would he stutter or slur through his sentence as he came? Bodily shiver so intensely, the person in the very last row of the highest seat would be able to visibly witness the tremble Sanji ignited through him? 

Wanting to know those answers – craving them, even – Sanji’s eyes finally fully closed to better picture his daydream. He could feel his heart beating wildly with excitement, trying to punch its way out of Sanji’s chest as his breathing quickened.

Reveling in the illusion he truly was blowing Zoro’s mind, Sanji nearly jumped from his skin when the crowd suddenly began clapping—snapping him back to reality.

Apparently, Zoro had mentioned something worth this reaction, as he had momentarily paused his words to allow the applause to die out. 

Sanji crossed his legs in the hope of hiding his erection, not that anyone could see it where he was, but only made himself more uncomfortable. Giving a quick look behind him, he saw there were quite a few people – big people – there watching Zoro with him—standing at the ready should anything go wrong. 

Since Sanji was alone at the front, he decided to risk a quick readjustment. Leaning back and stretching his legs out, Sanji grabbed the top of his pants with one hand and rearranged himself with the other – only to make it worse for himself – the touch made him want more. Sanji swallowed back the lump in his throat and bit his bottom lip.

Suddenly feeling overheated, he shucked off his jean shirt – balling it up over his lap – and rolled up his sleeves in to lower his body temperature. Once settled, Sanji reached into his pocket for his phone, glancing down at it and internally whined at how little time had passed. 

It was going to be a long day.

~

Hardly getting the door open to his penthouse, Zoro was already shedding his jacket – cursing Nami for these tight, well-fitted clothes – and tossing it absently over a nearby decorative vase. His tie was next; on the floor. Allowing him to finally work at all of the confounding buttons on this shirt that also ended its journey on the floor while his shoes were kicked in separate directions.

Zoro sighed happily.

In just his pants and socks – in the middle of his home – finally free from all the corporate bullshit that came with this promotional garbage. The etiquette never made sense to him. Sometimes he had to dress like a slob to fit in with the Sabaody Valley elite and other times Nami insisted on suits and ties—otherwise it would come across as disrespectful to foreign distributors; all these rules were ridiculous.

Sanji was watching him with a disgruntled expression.

“What?”

“You always do that?” Sanj broached with an upturned lip and lifted brow, “Get undressed like a toddler?”

Zoro glanced at his discarded clothes, then to Sanji, “Not sexy enough for you?”

“‘Enough’ would imply it was even a little sexy—which it wasn’t.” Sanji drawled.

“Oh, yeah?” Zoro jeered as his hands dropped a bit more tactfully to his pants. Attempting to work the belt loose with more sexual allure than before while goading, “This better?”

“Maybe,” the photographer allowed with a flare of faux contemplation. Already a sly smile was creeping onto those sinful lips as he countered, “Keep going.”

It didn’t matter what the photographer said , Zoro knew the truth; he’d seen how flustered Sanji had been once returning from the stage. His flushed neck, the pinch of a blush at the tips of his ears, not to mention the jacket in his lap. Never in a million years would Zoro have expected that to do it for the obstinate photographer, but he wasn’t going to complain.

Sanji refused to act on it though.

Even on the car ride back, he’d assumed something would’ve happened – maybe some tasteful road head – but instead the photographer had glared out the window as if it were Zoro’s fault he had a boner; which it was , but somehow that wasn’t a good thing. Zoro had decided to wait him out. Just like before, sooner or later the photographer would crack and he’d be on his dick, one way or another.

Belt undone and discarded, Zoro then moved on to the waistband hook before slowly edging down the zipper to his slacks. Every action was watched with rapt attention by Sanji—Zoro kind of enjoyed it. Usually he was the one getting a show, but having Sanji so thoroughly captivated by even the slightest movement of his hands was getting him heated in a way he’d never felt before.

Zoro allowed the fly of his slacks to fall open.

Just enough to reveal the briefs beneath and the taut fabric currently stretched over his steadily hardening length—then he waited. Made it clear that it was Sanji’s turn to move. Watching as Sanji eventually glanced up – notably biting the inside of his cheek – before beginning to walk over.

“Good boy,” Sanji praised with a purr, and Zoro felt his cock jump. Disconcerted by how much he liked that, it allowed Sanji to take advantage and place a hand on his chest. Shoving him back to land on the couch while Sanji bore down on him with a hungry grin. “But let's speed this up now.”

Zoro watched – enthralled – as Sanji dropped to his knees.

As much as Zoro enjoyed when Sanji made him work every step of the way, there was also something to this commanding version that caught Zoro’s special attention. The same energy that had captivated him when they first met, and every time after. This aura that Zoro craved having directed at him – and him alone – had him aching for the annoying bastard in ways that didn’t even make sense.

Fingers dancing along the waistband of his briefs, Zoro watched as Sanji took pleasure in slowly pulling the fabric down; almost enjoying the show of revealing Zoro’s thick cock. The engorged length peeked out inch by inch until it popped free. Bobbing heavy and ready between them as Sanji hummed a gratified tune, then leaned in to mouth lightly at the tip.

Zoro was enraptured, but for an annoying buzzing on his thigh.

After wrestling his phone out with the full intention of throwing it away, the message caught his eye and had him stilling; a whole different type of adrenaline surging through him.

Found it.

“Hold that thought,” Zoro kept his hand on Sanji’s shoulder as he nearly started vibrating with excitement at the words. He could hardly believe his luck. Glancing down at Sanji who stared up at him with a combination of offense and curiosity, “Wanna go out?”

“Can I fuckin’ blow you first?” Sanji snapped.

Zoro blinked.

Brought back to the reality of his currently hard dick and the needy photographer on his knees waiting for it, Zoro took a moment to realign his priorities. He’d been waiting on this dealer for months , but he was also hard now . And with Sanji literally begging for his cock, it was becoming an increasingly easier decision to make…

“Yeah,” Zoro nodded firmly, but his gaze still wandered back to his phone. His other hand slipped from Sanji’s shoulder to his neck. Absently pulling the photographer in to encourage him to get back to it as he multi-tasked, “Yeah, lemme just…”

Sanji’s ire was tangible in the air, but surprisingly took Zoro’s length down anyway—almost out of spite.

Finding the name he was looking for, Zoro clumsily punched out a message in between glances down at Sanji currently sucking him down with a violent determination. Several words got misspelled, but the message was at least discernible. Hitting ‘send’ with little regard, Zoro finally tossed the phone over on the nearby sectional and turned his attention to the photographer currently drooling on his length.

An added benefit was Sanji wasn’t able to talk when his mouth was full like this, despite Zoro’s enjoyment of his more colorful bedroom banter. The insults were charming, but sometimes he just needed silence. Silence mingled with breathy moans and heady groans as he just took his release.

“ Fuck ,” Zoro groaned in sheer gratitude .

Hours of press, speeches, and public attention were absolute torture, but if it got the photographer this riled then it just might be worth it. He may even start to enjoy it. Maybe even make a habit of doing it more if it meant Sanji would willingly drop to his knees and put that ridiculously perfect mouth on him.

And it was obscenely wet, too.

Wetter than last time by a large margin, as if the whole ordeal had actually caused Sanji to salivate. Zoro wasn’t going to complain about the man’s odd fixations, though. He’d gladly do it all over again if the reward was getting to slide into a mouth that was positively dripping .

Hot saliva soaked those plump lips—beginning to form a frothy ring as Zoro’s precum started to mix with it. He was already achingly close. Immediately deciding to finish in the photographer's mouth before they got to anything else.

Fingers tightening into the fringe of Sanji’s bangs, Zoro held the fiery photographer in place on his dick while artfully flipping them both over. And surprisingly, Sanji let him.

Releasing Sanji’s hair, Zoro dropped both hands to brace on the couch while leaning over the photographer – straddling his face – while Zoro put his full weight into fucking Sanji’s face through the seat cushion. He fucked relentlessly while Sanji groaned happily. Those normally violent hands were clenched desperately in Zoro’s taut slacks while dragging Zoro forward like it wasn’t enough.

Zoro took that as a challenge.

A hard snap of his hips had Zoro pinning Sanji to the couch – he could feel the head of his cock pinched down the back of the photographer's tightening throat – while leveraging back to snag Sanji’s wrists. He wrenched them free from his pants, then pinned them to the couch. Putting all his weight into Sanji’s arms while once again pumping into the pliant mouth like he was trying to knock a few teeth loose.

Sanji moaned a messy, wrecked thing.

And Zoro felt himself tripping over his release.

Hips stuttering with its approach – he had three good thrusts left before it was done – Zoro got in two hard, cruel snaps before burying the head of his cock deep in Sanji’s throat. The photographer writhed desperately; body arching, hands flexing, feet flailing. Some of the spunk was swallowed, but most of it bubbled around the photographer’s stretch, swollen lips as Zoro moaned softly while rocking onto Sanji’s face.

And Zoro felt a heady vindication while spilling down the back of Sanji’s spasming throat—a revenge for the photographer’s weird control over him.

Releasing Sanji entirely to allow his length to slide out of the photographer’s abused mouth, but bobbed insatiably hard between them. An obscene string of foamy spit hanging from the tip. Some of the red flush had faded, but the skin at the head was still pulled tight in arousal—he needed more.

“Thanks,” Zoro grunted—absolutely breathless.

“Sure. Anytime .” Rasping through several woozy coughs, Sanji still managed a dry banality that was scathing, “So happy I was able to keep your attention.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t get anything out of it,” Zoro smirked.

With a hard push off the couch, Zoro stepped back onto his feet and was able to fully appreciate the view; Sanji was sprawled in front of the couch, legs askew, arms limp. His head still slumped back to rest upon the seat cushion. All the excess spit and spunk that wasn’t sluicing down Zoro’s length had trailed down to cling against the photographer’s throat.

Eyes flicking down to the obvious indentation in Sanji’s trousers that left little to the imagination. He already wore form-fitting clothes, but the angle in which it curled and tucked along his thigh was indecent—you could practically make out the head. Zoro planted his foot over the clothed erection, then glanced up to the photographer. Giving a salacious waggle of his brows to accompany the playful pressure.

Sanji’s hand shot up to grip Zoro’s calf.

Surprisingly strong for how limp he had appeared moments before, Sanji’s fingers dug into the muscle while his eyes were wide and pleading. He mutedly shook his head. It was a desperation Zoro had yet to see from the photographer, and it piqued his curiosity.

“What’s that?” Zoro grinned, flexing his foot.

Lips – saliva slick and significantly swollen – slowly pressed together in righteous embarrassment. His eyes slid shut for good measure. Hand flexing again as he shook his head, then managed in a choked whisper, “ Please don’t .”

Zoro’s cock twitched where it hung heavy between them.

Luckily, Sanji didn’t see it, or that might derail this fascinating discovery.

Leaning down, Zoro pressed curiously, “Why not?”

Sanji was a mix of terrified , defeated, and shameful as he whispered, “Because I’m afraid I'll like it.”

Zoro was tempted to – literally – press the issue, but decided to be nice.

“Fine,” Zoro dropped the subject for a later date. Leaning down to scoop up the – reasonably flustered – photographer into his arms before he had a chance to refuse and moved to the couch, “Lemme help.”

“Why am I being carried?!”

Easily ignoring Sanji’s capitulation, Zoro dumped the frazzled photographer onto the spacious sectional before reaching down to his still soaked length. He palmed it headily. Gathering as much of the spit on his palm as he could before lifting his hand to show Sanji the product of his own vulgarity.

“You know,” Zoro jeered as he spread his fingers. Showing off the sheer volume of saliva that clung between each digit before returning it to his length with a tasteful stroke. Angling it just enough for Sanji to have a decent view and beginning to work the spit over his length with ease, “I bet I could fuck you without any lube.”

“There isn't that much!” Embarrassment caused the photographer’s voice to crack, which immediately caused him to turn to anger as his defense, “Go get the fucking lube!”

“Alright, alright,” Zoro held up his hands in playful surrender.

Leaving the photographer in his state of embarrassed arousal to locate some lube before returning with the full intention of fucking him over the back of the couch. He intended to take his time, too. Drive him into the cushion until the very last minute – until there was a knock at the door – and only then, letting them both have their release.

~

As Zoro went to answer the door naked and nonchalant, Sanji frantically searched for his pants to tug on before the door opened wide. Just as he did up the top button – dick nearly caught in the zipper from his rushed movements – a young, curvy woman skidded around the corner with a huge smile on her face—sights locked on him.

“Hi,” Sanji said shyly.

“HELLO!” she greeted back and made a beeline toward him. Her three-inch, chartreuse platforms thudded across the flooring, sounding like a one-woman stampede. Sanji tensed, prepared for a tackle, but luckily she stopped right in front of him before causing a collision. She looked him up and down - mostly down with how tall she was - and was vibrating out of her skin. “You are Sanji!”

Zoro grumbled, rejoining with a pair of underwear in his hands. Stepping into them, he inclined his head toward Sanji. “Yeah, this is him.” 

She squealed, grabbing onto his arms as she bounced, forcing Sanji to uncontrollably bounce along. Her pale, green hair swayed across her face, the ends coming just below her impressive jawline.

“Shutterbug, this is Keimi, she’ll provide you with an outfit so you’ll stop bitchin’.”

Sanji’s jaw dropped—this guy seriously did not want to keep his nuts attached. Before he could side-step Keimi to remove said nuts, she gasped loudly, sucking in all the air in the room.

“OH! The clothes!” 

Both Zoro and Sanji watched her bolt from the room and clomp down the hall. They could hear her struggling with the door as she wrestled in a few chests and racks of clothes. Seeing her struggle, Sanji hurried over to help her pull the stuff the rest of the way into the living area.

“So,” Keimi said, clapping her hands together. “You mentioned a suit? What kind? Color? For where?”

Zoro waved the specifics away. “Just meeting up at a cocktail bar downtown.”

Annoyed that Zoro couldn’t give her the time of day, Sanji butted in for a suggestion. “Do you have everything for a three-piece, maybe?”

“Of course!” Keimi answered quickly. She whipped around to start rummaging through the different sizes of jackets, holding two up against Sanji’s chest to get a rough estimate before digging into anything deeper. 

As Sanji patiently waited, he turned to Zoro and gestured to the racks. “What are you going to wear?”
“I have stuff here,” Zoro said, thumbing behind him toward the room. Sanji could only imagine the enormity of the closet.

Reaching over Sanji’s shoulder, Zoro began to casually sift through the hangers – a couple catching his eye – before getting distracted by his phone ringing. Grabbing it from nearby, he answered. He was quiet for a moment as he listened to the person on the other end. Connecting eyes with Sanji, he held up a finger and turned to excuse himself.

 “How about we start with this?” Keimi said beside him. Sanji returned his attention to her. She was holding up a solid-colored dress shirt in one hand and a matching blazer in the other.

After Sanji tried on the jacket, shrugging it around to fit better, he was greatly impressed Keimi managed to get one to fit well enough on the first try. Seemingly young, she still had an eye for more than just fashion—a real professional. 

Once his size was known, Keimi wasted no time to search everything she had brought. Zooming left and right to find different pieces to match together, she started laying out a variety of options over the back of the couch – right where he was fucked just before she had arrived – and rummaged around in one of the chests for shoes. 

“Oi!”

The two of them turned to Zoro who stood in the archway of the bedroom. Still in his boxer briefs and his phone to his ear, he had only managed to slip into a light green dress shirt—not even buttoned up yet. Sanji scoffed.

Zoro spoke from across the room in German, leaving Sanji completely in the dark. Words quickly fell out as he smiled and pointed at Sanji with a chuckle. Sanji scrunched his face. He didn’t like not knowing what was going on, especially when he knew he was directly being talked about. Why Zoro thought it necessary to exclude him was beyond Sanji.

Objecting as the two babbled back and forth went ignored. Sanji raised his lip with irritation but had no other choice other than to wait them out.

Keimi’s sudden squeak startled Sanji. Her mouth hung open while her eyes widened with surprise. “P -puff?!” she said disbelievingly.

Zoro laughed again with a nod and disappeared.

“Uhm…” Sanji felt awkward. “What did he say?”

A devilish grin spread across her face, exposing most of her teeth. She began snatching up the clothes to rehang them. “It looks like your plans have changed. You are going to a—”

“Ah!” Zoro shouted, peeking his head around the doorway and shushing her, miming zipping his lips.

“Oooh~” Keimi said and playfully saluted his way. “You got it, boss!”

Trying his best not to let his irritation seep through – especially to a fine, young lady – Sanji politely watched the fashion designer pull the second chest closer to them with excitement.

He cleared his throat. “I’m, uh… not going to be wearing a suit anymore, am I?”

Keimi giggled with a dorky snort as she walked behind the chest, giving it a kick to face it toward Sanji better. Bending over it to unfasten each lock, she pulled it open to expose the chaotic menagerie of sequins, leather, fishnets, and even jewelry messily hanging from the lid. She dug inside for only a moment to grab a slinky pair of shorts, playfully dangling them in front of her face.

“You’re kidding me?” Sanji said flatly.

“No, I am not—come here!”

Slumping forward, Sanji did as she said and allowed her to get started on her new vision. Without care for any of Sanji’s privacy, Keimi undressed him, yanking at his new jacket he definitely did not already become attached to, and pulling down his pants.

Sanji yelped, covering himself.

Keimi’s sudden arrival didn’t allow Sanji the time he needed to find his underwear. He stood there with his pants around his thighs, too embarrassed to move. 

“Whoa, nice~!” Keimi laughed, unaware of how quickly Sanji was shriveling into a distraught raisin.

Still holding himself tight with one hand, Sanji released the other to carefully shimmy his pants up, inch by inch. Not once did Keimi avert her gaze, just stared a hole into Sanji’s crotch with an amused smile on her face. 

Sanji wanted to die.

Finally with his pants back on, an awkward laugh bubbled up. “Lemme just…. Heh—grab some underwear.”

Luckily, Keimi was kind enough to give him the privacy he needed to put them on. When he was done, she turned around holding out a pair of baggy pants for him. Obediently, he stepped into them. To erase as much of the past three minutes from her mind, Sanji tried conversation as a distraction.

“So… you two related, then?” he joked.

Keimi forced a tattered, turtleneck crop top over him and cocked her head. “Huh?”

“You know—cause the hair?”

Blinking a few times, Keimi stared with a furrow in her brow as if she truly didn’t understand what Sanji was talking about. But then it seemed to dawn on her—she burst into laughter, followed by another dorky snort, repeatedly slapping her hand over Sanji’s shoulder as she did so.

“Oh, you are so funny!” she cried, patting him. Then she grabbed his chin and gave it a gentle shake. “Funny and cute.”

The double-compliment in addition to the touch was unexpected. Sanji flushed through a bashful smile. “Thank you,” he said lowly, biting his lip.

“You know,” Keimi started. She had her round ass bent toward Sanji with her head ducked inside the chest. It seemed she was searching for something. Finally managing to find what she wanted – some sort of thin, golden chain – she shouted back at him, “This is fun!”

“Oh? What part, exactly?”

Wrapping her arms around Sanji’s middle, she brought the two ends of the chain together to clasp it closed. As she fixed the different layers to prettily lay over his belly, she tilted her head sideways and stuck out her tongue with concentration. Happy with the results, she took a few steps back and smiled wide.

“Playing dress up with you!” She spun in place before dipping in the first chest for more clothing—her ass up again and wiggling back and forth. “It has been a while – too long for my liking – since Mr. Zoro has brought over his little distraction of the month.”

Sanji frowned.

Right. Of course, he wouldn’t be the only person Zoro had brought around. It was why Keimi was so prepared, after all, and probably why his size was found so easily—Zoro had a type. This was normal for her and even more normal for Zoro. It might have been annoying to be reminded he was the newest member of the ‘I Choked on Zoro Roronoa’s Cock Club’, but he should at least get a t-shirt for his troubles.

With a great effort, Keimi managed to pull out a black leather jacket from the depths of the chest. She presented it for him to see as she approached and then held it open so he could slip it on.

“All of them are always so pretty, too!” Keimi gushed, stars in her eyes. Sanji fixed the jacket until it sat right. “Although,” she added with a purse to her lips. Swirling her finger in front of Sanji’s face, stopping near his visible eyebrow, she muttered, “You are a bit more housely than the others.”

Quirking said eyebrow at the weird statement, Sanji took a moment to think about what she might have intended. Putting ‘appearance’ and ‘house’ together, he suddenly understood completely. He didn’t need to ask for clarification, but since he was a masochist and liked hurting his own feelings, he spoke up anyway.

“Did you perhaps mean… ‘homely’?”

“Ah—yes! ‘Homely’. You are homely in this area,” she repeated, pointing another finger in his face. Sanji’s eye twitched. “But, this is okay. You are much nicer than the others. Models are very mean, you know.”

Sanji forced himself to stay in place and not storm off like a child for being called average. “Thank you,” he said through gritted teeth.

Sanji was thankful the conversation stopped there. He didn’t think whatever was left of his ego would survive anything else Keimi had to say. For the next minute or so, it was silent between them as she fixed the small things, like mussing his hair around to her liking and setting shoes in front of him.

“Ta-da!” Keimi exclaimed, holding her hands above her head after taking a step back. “You look fantastic! Here—!” She pulled him toward the body mirror across the room. Sanji’s face fell at the sight of himself, yet Keimi jumped up and down behind him, looking over his shoulder. “See? So cute!”

“I—” Sanji bit his tongue.

Looking himself over… the turtleneck crop top wouldn’t even cover his nipples if he raised his arms—but at least his neck would be warm in the very cold month of May, right?! And the large, billowy cargo pants sagged so low he was sure everyone could confirm his natural hair color if not for his briefs saving his dignity. The belly chain sparkled in the light – which he liked, actually – but was mostly hidden by the leather jacket. Even the weird slip-on foam shoes were so hideous, that Sanji’s toes curled at the thought of touching them with his bare feet. Reluctantly, he stepped into them anyway after Keimi scooted them closer with the tip of her boot, insisting.

Wilting, Sanji flopped his hands at his reflection in exasperation. “I feel ridiculous.”

“No, no!” Keimi whined with assurance. Both of her hands clasped tightly over his shoulders as she tried peeking over at him. Her smile was bright and cheery despite Sanji’s disappointment in the outfit. “This is what is in right now! This is fashion, Sanji!”

Behind them, there was a burst of laughter. Sanji wheeled around to see Zoro approaching from the bedroom. Sanji returned to Keimi, pleading with his eyes. He could feel the tips of his ears burning. 

Still snickering, Zoro tucked the back of his dress shirt in, slightly bending forward to reach better. As he did, the front billowed open to expose his chest, only being held closed by a few buttons. Typical.  

“You look ridiculous!” he spat, laughing all over again while zipping up his pants. Dressy but still casual, reaching mid-calf and sitting just above the deep, twin scars he had. Sanji thought they were noticeably prominent against his dark-colored pants, accentuated by his dusky skin. “What are you wearing?!”

Without another moment’s thought, Sanji toed his shoe halfway off and jerked his foot toward Zoro, causing it to zip across the room. Effortlessly, Zoro caught the shoe before it smacked his face – unfortunately – and hit against his palm with a loud thwack, instead. He tossed it up in the air a few times, amused with his small victory.

“Seriously, though,” Zoro said with much less humor. As he came up to them, he dropped the shoe next to Sanji and asked, “Why are you in that?”

Bristling, Sanji rose to get in his face. “What makes you think I chose this?!” he screeched. “You’ve seen my wardrobe!”

Zoro only smirked down at him.

As if they were having two different conversations, Keimi tugged on Zoro’s hand as she pleaded with him. “He looks so good in this, Mr. Zoro! He has the perfect body for this fit!”

Deadpanned, Zoro lolled his head to the side to meet the fashion designer’s pouting expression. “He looks like a whore, Keimi.” When she answered with a puffed-cheeked pout, Zoro slipped free from her loosened grasp.

“Oh, fuck you, asshole—!”

Zoro hauled Sanji in close by gripping each side of his jacket. He tried leaning away, bending backward, but Zoro was insistent. They were nose to nose, yet he spoke to Keimi. “Get him changed into something else. Something like mine.” He lowered his voice. “Keep the jacket, though.”

When he let Sanji go with a shove, Keimi slid in front of him to some jewelry. Hooking a necklace around his thick neck and added a few rings—which Zoro ended up taking from her so he could put them on himself. Twisting them to fit better as he walked away, he went around the couch to take a seat.

Sanji stared, left a little dumbfounded after the way Zoro had manhandled him. He had all the intentions of throwing a few choice curses his way, but he couldn’t shake off the arousal that tingled through him. If he didn’t know any better, he would think Zoro knew how he affected him. Sanji settled on a sneer before starting on ripping off the clothes.

It didn’t take long for Keimi to find an outfit that matched the look Zoro was going for. Sanji had to admit, for dressing himself, he didn’t do too badly. And once Sanji was dressed in a whole new outfit – sans the belly chain and leather jacket – he was feeling pretty good about himself, too.

In a loose, black button-up, he sported a pair of black skinny jeans and shoes. Adding the jacket to complete the look… one could never go wrong with a head-to-toe black outfit. And by the way Zoro was hungrily staring up at him as Sanji readjusted the way his hair sat over his face, he was sure Keimi did much better this time around.

“So where are we going, anyway?” he asked, dipping his hands into the jacket pockets. 

Zoro got to his feet, smirking devilishly. “Freudenhuaus.”

Sanji blinked a few times.

“A what- house?”

~

“How pedestrian of us—slumming it on foot!” Sanji drawled; clearly mocking Zoro despite his upbeat attitude. This Sanji was in a much better mood than the one from that morning, “Trying to see how the other ninety-nine percent live, are we?”

Zoro held his tongue against the obvious quip.

Lying instead with flawless disinterest, “I wanna drink—easier to take a lift back.”

Zoro dug out his phone to check their location.

“Besides, it’s a short walk.” Zoro paused while fiddling with RyuMaps. Absently goading the photographer, “Don’t tell me you were starting to enjoy being driven around?”

“HA!” Sanji barked a scathing laugh, “Now that is funny.”

Scowling down at his phone, Zoro realized he’d taken a wrong turn at some point so they were no longer on the main road he’d intended for them. However, he had no intention of letting the jeering photographer know he’d gotten momentarily lost. He’d never hear the end of it. Very few people knew of his penchant for getting turned around, and this photographer was not going to be one of them—partially due to his pride, but also the PR nightmare it would cause.

Nami had made it abundantly clear that his reputation would likely never recover.

As the route finally reset, Zoro took off down the cobblestone sidewalk in the direction the little green marked line ushered him; it guided them over a modest bridge into a well-illuminated park that cut through a few blocks of the city. The entry was marked by grandiose flowerbeds. And Sanji was absently blabbering something about the buds and it, “Was a shame that they were too early for the flowers to have bloomed just yet.”

Zoro ignored it.

Sanji skidded to a stop.

“Why didn't you tell me we would be going this way? I would have brought my camera,” Sanji shrieked. “YOU SAID NOT TO BRING IT!”

“I’ll take you somewhere tomorrow,” Zoro promised.

“No, that’s not the same,” Sanji dismissed the offer. “Tomorrow isn’t here! It isn’t now —in this moment.” He gestured around violently, “I want this.”

Zoro paused mid-stride.

Abruptly facing the photographer who also stopped his irate pace to round on Zoro with a huff—a pugnacious huff. It was riddled with a very specific type of hostility that Zoro had only seen one other time. At the wedding, when he’d missed that photo and nearly bit Zoro’s head off for it.

“You’re upset,” Zoro observed.

“ Oh, am I?! ” Sanji balked. “The empathy is positively dripping from you.”

Zoro glanced about the absolutely unremarkable park in an attempt to understand what about this area was setting the photographer off, but couldn’t.

It was a park .

There were trees, bushes, and flowers; a pathway, and a creek. The area was safely lit. And the skyline of the city cast a general ambiance over the entire area. It was a well-constructed park, but definitely not a botanical garden by any stretch of the imagination…

“Going somewhere beautiful for a photo doesn’t automatically make it good. Spontaneity is key.” Sanji snapped his fingers a few times; impatient and irritable while searching for the right words. “It’s similar to… I don't know, buying a pre-arranged bouquet rather than picking your own from the backyard. You might get a better selection and richer colors, but, where is there room to breathe your own interpretation of love into it?”

Zoro leaned away from the disappointed photographer, but couldn't shake the feeling of being admonished like he was a child.

“It’s just a park,” Zoro drawled.

Even casting a glance about for good measure to make sure he wasn’t missing something obvious before gracing Sanji with a derisive smirk, but Zoro found himself at a loss.

It was a fairly mundane walkway, but his driveway was far more interesting. The trees were evenly spaced out—pleasant to the eye configuratively. And the waterway next to the path was nice, but scummy in areas. The cobblestone walkway was certainly more unique than the mundane concrete of typical western cities, but they were commonplace here; nothing to catch your breath over, but maybe just your footing.

It was quite green, though.

All of the shrubbery bubbling at the base of the trees was freshly cut, so the park had a specific richness hanging in the air, but even after squinting in an attempt to find the depth the photographer was talking about, Zoro still just saw a walkway with some sturdy trees.

“What are you possibly missing out on?”

Sanji looked at him like he’d grown two heads.

Gesturing a bit with his hands – like that might help Zoro understand – Sanji finally dropped them, along with his shoulders, and exhaled heavily. More disappointed than ever, Sanji sighed, “ Really? ”

Zoro hated the genuine disappointment in Sanji’s voice.

“Look at all the colors you can see from just right here.”

“Green,” Zoro grunted.

Sanji deadpanned.

“Yes, green ,” Sanji groaned, exasperated, “and more.”

Snagging his sleeve and hauling him close – Zoro glancing down at the handling indignantly – Sanji arranged them both at a point on the path where they had a clearer view of the entire park; through the trees, across the water, and the city skyline beyond.

“See?”

Zoro scowled at Sanji.

Sanji glared right back.

Lashing out and grabbing Zoro’s jaw – fingers digging in harshly – Sanji forced him to face forward with a snarl, “Look, will you?!”

Zoro – reluctantly – looked.

It was pretty, but still just a park.

“Actually…” Sanji chuckled. “It sort of looks like a painting—if you only look at the water, you know?”

Releasing Zoro’s jaw to take a step forward, Sanji held up a hand in front of them both to block out their view of the city. Zoro rubbed absently at his cheek, but silently moved to align himself with Sanji’s hand. Petulant, but pointedly, making the effort to see what Sanji saw, even though it irritated him; and the way Sanji was looking at him expectantly wasn’t helping.

Frustratingly, Sanji was right; it did look like a piece of art. Like one of those pieces you’d see in an art gallery where the painter wanted to particularly show off their mastery of light and reflection. All the multi-colored neon lights from the city dancing across the water in hypnotic, wavy lines.

“Don’t you think?”

Zoro looked away.

It felt like he was losing a non-existent argument—and he didn’t like that feeling.

And suddenly, the photographer was on a roll, “But we can’t let that erase what’s right here in front of us.”

Walking over to a nearby bush, Sanji dropped into a squat while waving for Zoro to follow. Zoro did, begrudgingly. Coming to stand just over Sanji’s shoulder while peering down at the leaves that the photographer was inspecting; carefully cupping one in his palm and threading the stem between his fingers to angle it towards them.

“It looks like we just missed the sprinklers – lucky us – and left behind these little pools. If we get even lower,” Sanji tilted his head to the side, “All the city colors show up in the droplets.”

Zoro watched quietly.

Releasing the leaf with a sudden snap – droplets spraying across the sidewalk – Sanji leaped to his feet and then strode forward excitedly. He hopped back into a squat, then again gestured for Zoro to follow. Grateful that the photographer had his back turned, Zoro rolled his eyes and followed.

“Even though it’s too early in the year to see this place in full bloom, all these little magnolia saplings are working hard to come out and show us what they could be if we’re patient with them for a little longer.”

Just as Sanji moved to stand again, he exhaled a soft, “Oh,” then lunged forward a pace to get in close to a spider’s web bridging two bushes. He ran his finger along one of the buds to scoop some water, then gently flicked it toward the web. It warped under the spray, the light bits of dew bouncing happily, as a spider came skittering out curiously to inspect the motion.

Sanji visibly tensed in disgust, but didn’t jump away.

Zoro’s lips twitched.

Abandoning whatever teaching moment Sanji had been attempting and pulling out his phone, the photographer set to work; playing with the limited settings while getting beneath the web, Sanji took several photos at a low angle to get the city in the shot.

Zoro watched silently.

After a bit of back and forth, Sanji took a final photo that he seemed pleased with, then – still crouched – turned back to Zoro, smiling up at him. He held out his phone, turning it sideways to get the full effect and proudly showed Zoro the photo of the web that he’d managed to take.

And Zoro loathed to admit that it was… nice. The way the fine webbing was practically iridescent in the lighting, and the droplets of water sparkled like little diamonds. And the spider in the middle was crisp and sharp; her soft golden body practically glowing. Even the city lights behind it – vague orbs of bursting color – added to the glorious effect of the shot.

“See?” Sanji grinned; it was sweet and kind and innocent.

It reminded Zoro of their first meeting at the wedding when Sanji had photographed that little girl, or in the bar when Sanji had been liquored and loose while divulging his dreams with an effervescent passion. This was a different side to the normally angry photographer; a side very few people got to see.

It was vulnerable.

It was dangerous.

Zoro curled a dry lip, “Nice speech, Princess—which fairytale movie you auditioning for?”

Sanji’s face fell in a split second.

And not another second later, Sanji’s fist connected right with his dick – probably wasn’t wise to goad the photographer while eye level with his junk – then Zoro was on a knee while wheezing. His vision spun, and bile rose in the back of his throat. Tenderly clutching his bits while trying to breathe through the pain, Zoro reminded himself that it was a small agony in comparison to the horrible alternative…

Sanji wasn’t smiling at him anymore.

That was a good thing…

“‘Princess’ that, bitch.”

Leaving Zoro to his suffering, Sanji rose to his feet and pocketed his phone while Zoro got his bearings back. He could distantly hear Sanji pulling out his pack of smokes and lighting one up; the crack of the lighter particularly loud in the silent park. It was all followed up by a few puffs, then a – slightly rude – self-satisfied exhale.

Zoro focused on not throwing up.

Apparently, Zoro was taking too long, because – what felt like a few seconds later – Sanji placed the heel of his foot on Zoro’s shoulder. His eyes flicked open, then felt Sanji start to kick him over. Hand shooting out to catch himself on the uneven cobblestone, Zoro released his abused junk to whip around and snag Sanji’s ankle in a firm, hard grip.

Still kneeling, Zoro sent the photographer a dark glare, but Sanji just puffed idly on his cigarette; frustratingly unperturbed. Zoro shot to his feet with a snarl. Wrenching Sanji’s leg along with him, so the photographer was forced to lean back a little on his other leg to accommodate the angle.

“‘The fuck’re you doin’?!” Zoro barked.

Strangely confident in this position – even though Zoro just needed to hook the photographer’s other ankle to ruin his evening – Sanji looked to the side with an apathetic stare. Zoro would’ve found Sanji’s lackadaisical attitude towards the compromising position arousing if his dick hadn’t just been punched. As Zoro leaned in irritably, Sanji leaned back while pursing his lips with a particular puerile petulance that was more fitting of someone caught with their hand in the cookie jar and not someone actively looking for a fistfight.

“Just gettin’ even.”

Zoro’s eyes narrowed.

Sanji arched an expectant brow.

When Zoro didn’t follow through on his empty threat, Sanji’s gaze flicked down to his leg before giving a playful tug to urge Zoro to let go. Zoro glanced down, too. Trying desperately not to be distracted by the sinful stretch of Sanji’s slacks while in this position, but made a note to get inside those pants as soon as possible—and not be nice about it.

Easing Sanji’s leg back down, Zoro let go with a modest shake of his head and heavy sigh; the things he put up with to fuck this man. He turned and continued down the trail, Sanji following momentarily after. As they fell into step with each other, Zoro made a point to have a respectable space between them lest the photographer seek further revenge.

Sanji chuckled.

Zoro sent him a sharp look.

“You can act tough all you want, big guy,” Sanji took a smug drag on his smoke, “but you know what I’m talkin’ about.”

Zoro scowled, defensive.

“I’ve seen your house,” he continued jeeringly, then amended with a snort, “Your office, too.”

Mouth immediately opening with a retort, Zoro realized he didn’t have a good excuse at the ready; and definitely not any that he was willing to share with the photographer. He refused to be that transparent. All of his reasons were his own, and he didn’t need to justify them to anybody, especially not some uppity photographer that would be gone in a few weeks.

Zoro settled on a flat, “Whatever.”

Even without looking at the infuriating photographer, Zoro could feel the smug victory wafting off Sanji in waves . The bastard was practically preening. A boldness returning that made Zoro itch to shove him into the creek.

“You can’t tell me something like this — ” Sanji gestured with an extravagant wave. His cigarette left a swirling trail of smoke in its path, drawing Zoro’s eye across the entirety of the park. It dissipated before Sanji could finish his lauding, “—isn’t beautiful. Romantic, even.”

Zoro debated lying to piss Sanji off again, but could concede when a loss was a loss. “It’s not terrible.”

He could feel Sanji’s ego inflate.

“Oh- ho~ Careful now!” Skipping into his next step, Sanji playfully bumped his shoulder into Zoro’s to force him to stumble, then teased, “Don’t go falling for me~”

As facetious as the remark was, Zoro felt an actual chill run up his spine at the implication; and the rest of the pain in his dick evaporated. He kept his face carefully blank. Glancing over at the photographer to gauge just how seriously out of hand this might be getting…

This wasn’t an issue he was entirely unfamiliar with, but one he didn’t relish in entertaining in any regard; people often saw his general lackadaisical attitude falling into the realm of genuine interest and mistook his moments of languorous amity as offering vulnerability. Usually keeping cold and distant did the trick, but sometimes it just heightened the problem.

Add in a bit of celebrity worship. Some trips and gifts. And suddenly he had a person on his hands with a contrived vision of there being anything more between them than what was aberrantly stated—sex.

From experience, Zoro knew he needed to nip the whole thing in the bud before it got out of hand, but for Sanji he was a little curious how to go about it. The normal cruel tactics likely wouldn’t work. If anything, it seemed like butting heads with the guy might’ve been part of the problem in the first place.

Another option would be to cut all ties entirely, but again, that wasn’t something he was particularly interested in doing just yet. He’d be punishing himself more than anything. However, that only left one other option—an albeit unconventional one, but just disturbingly tender and teasingly malicious enough that it might get the message across.

As Sanji moved to walk past, Zoro twisted to cross in front of Sanji’s path and snatched him up in an effortless embrace—tastefully done, given the spontaneity of it. The photographer’s foot even caught on his own heel. Falling gracefully into Zoro’s arms as he twirled him around and proceeded to dip him precariously over the waterway just off the path.

Sanji played the part unfortunately well.

Hands latched into the lapels of Zoro’s jacket on sheer instinct to catch himself from falling while his legs tangled between Zoro’s braced stance. His eyes widened and mouth fell open. Truly, momentarily, shocked by what had just happened before indignation began to take its place which Zoro abated by a quick shifting of hands; one slipped down to cradle the photographer’s slim waist while the other caught his chin in a gentle hold.

Any trace of ire dissipated at the touch as Zoro calmed him as swiftly as if snatching up a cobra by the throat—a carefully placed thumb was all it took to render the offending party incapacitated.

All but curling into the embrace, Sanji stared up – eyes hooded with passionate exhilaration – as Zoro leaned in to brush his lips against Sanji’s. His breathing a staccato of fervency. Head tilting in a subconscious mirroring of Zoro’s own to present his parted lips for the kiss that was already being whispered against his skin.

The photographer was eating up the romanticness of the moment; to the point where Zoro almost felt bad about having to ruin it, but frankly, Sanji’s investment was the perfect cornerstone to obliterate to bring him crashing back down to reality.

Just as Sanji’s eyes began to flutter closed in anticipation, Zoro brought the photographer back to him with a tightening of his hand. Sanji’s gaze flicked up. Confusion wrinkled his brow as Zoro gifted him a callous smirk that made it clear Sanji’s compliance had been a grievous defeat.

“As if I’d ever, ” Zoro hissed, but despite his grin, the tone was flat and stern; leaving no room for misinterpretation.

As the spark of understanding washed over the photographer’s face, Zoro quickly used the debilitating realization to haul Sanji away from the water’s edge and plop him back down on his own two feet with an almost abrasive disregard. He released him, too. Not willing to give any indication of support beyond a rough pat to Sanji’s upper arms before pocketing his hands and turning away.

“C’mon,” Zoro inclined his head with a smile. Affecting a playful and innocent disinterest in what had just occurred – like it hadn’t been intentionally cruel – perhaps even gaslighting the photographer a bit in pretending he was oblivious to his own heartlessness, “I don’t wanna keep this guy waiting.”

Already walking off, Zoro made a point of not looking back to entertain whatever level of embarrassed realization the photographer was going through. He made it a few paces before eventually hearing Sanji recover and his footsteps following after, but whatever pomposity he’d had before regarding their situation had withered entirely. Zoro refrained from sighing in relief, but was grateful for how effective it had been.

It might sting for a bit, but the photographer was tough—he’d be fine. And hopefully, it would be a poignant reminder of the rules that he himself had laid down; nothing was going to happen between them. Considering the photographer’s flower-puking predisposition, it was for his own good. All Sanji needed was a little shake to remember that.

TBC…

Chapter Text

tu•lip (ˈtu lɪp, ˈtyu-) - one's indulgence

~

The back of Zoro’s head was stupid. 

“Fucking pompous dickheaded-asshole,” Sanji grumbled under his breath one last time as he relived the embarrassing situation. For the past twenty minutes, Sanji had been glaring a hole into the base of Zoro’s neck as he fumed over the audacity of that prick!

Because Zoro wasn’t in the wrong – which was infuriating – Sanji didn’t bite his head clean off after he had so viciously put him in his place. Instead, he stayed a step or two behind him as they made their way to the bar, Sanji following as Zoro led them along the city streets, guided by his fancy phone.

Although he knew he shouldn’t have said what he did – implying Zoro could feel anything at all – Sanji was amazed Zoro would even consider him serious of all things!

Of course it was a joke!

Who would ever fall for a cunt like Zoro Roronoa?!

Not Sanji, that was for sure; he had just said it because the situation fit and— ugh!

That heavy pit of humiliation in his stomach tightened its knot. Making Sanji squeeze his eyes shut, twisting his lips as he agonized over his mistake. As they rounded a corner, Sanji clawed at his face and silently whined—wishing he could take that line back.

Oblivious to anything around him – only absentmindedly following the figure in front of him – Sanji nearly collided with someone. Knocked out of his daze, Sanji quickly apologized to the stranger and looked around for green.

“Over here, Shutterbug,” Zoro called out, lifting a hand so Sanji could see him around the mob of people. Zoro waited until Sanji caught up before saying, “Pay attention or you might get lost.”

“Says the guy who can’t find the fuckin’ elevator thirty feet from his office door.”

Though he did not turn around, Zoro’s posture went rigid – the tips of his ears burning a pretty shade of pink – and barked, “All the floors look the fuckin’ same!”

Sanji didn’t quite agree but he also didn’t feel it worth his breath to correct the unobservant CEO.

As they continued, Sanji realized they were passing a line of some sort. He assumed it was for a bar or club. Scanning over the peculiar and… specific… outfits of the people, he could only wonder where the hell everyone was headed. Ranging from fishnets and spikes, to bikini bottoms and pasties, to latex and chunky, lace-up boots.

But Sanji didn’t have to wait long at all to find that out, because after passing everyone by, they stopped at the front of the line where muted thumping of music could be heard—and felt.

“This is the place?” Sanji asked, reading the enormous neon sign obnoxiously blinking Victoria’s above the entrance. Looking around, the patrons were staring at the two of them cutting the line.

Going unheard, Zoro grabbed around Sanji’s wrist and pulled him between the messy pile of people crowding around the door. Safely on the other side and in the indent of the entryway, an enormous man with squared shoulders and pointed facial hair blocked their way. He was in the middle of checking the IDs of a couple when he shot an arm out to stop them—huge hand on the middle of Zoro’s bare chest.

The bouncer’s eyes widened the moment he recognized just who was at their club. Immediately, he retracted his hand and stepped aside. “Mr. Roronoa, welcome back.”

Zoro continued, ignoring the rise of voices, all calling after him as they, too, realized who he was. Sanji only caught a glimpse of the people reaching out, clawing past the bouncer before the heavy door eased shut behind them.

Once inside, they were enveloped in pitch black. No matter how hard Sanji squinted, his eyes couldn’t adjust in time before Zoro started moving. Blindly feeling out in front of him like a complete, bumbling idiot, Sanji set a hand over Zoro’s shoulder to guide him.

“This place not believe in lights or something?” Sanji grumbled.

 They made their way through the black void of a hall, music getting clearer and growing in volume. It didn’t take long to reach the end, to which Zoro pushed aside a thick, heavy curtain and ducked through. Sanji followed. They emerged at the top of a staircase overlooking a massive room, the contents of which left Sanji stunned.

Promptly smacking him in the face was the very familiar and assaulting aroma of sweat and sex. Sanji stood frozen in place. Whipping his head back and forth – unsure of what to look at first – trying to take in everything all at once—there was just too much! 

Their footsteps clanged against the metal stairs as they made their way down, though were completely drowned out by the booming music. Sanji could hardly hear himself think – let alone make his brain work – with all that was happening. Everything was calling out for him, but his attention was grabbed by the events to his left. 

A drop-down section set up with couches, cushions, and comfy chairs—all occupied by various patrons. They were clothed in similar attire as the people waiting to get inside. They seemed to be divided up into small groups—their skin touching in some way or another. And they were writhing. 

Sanji audibly gasped and looked away, feeling heated.

Zoro slowed on the steps to look over his shoulder – a grin on his face – but Sanji just missed it; he was too busy gawking at the newest distraction.

Lining the opposite wall were massive cages from floor to ceiling, stacked three high and four wide. Inside each was a person wrapped in thin strings, tied tight and causing the meat of their tits, thighs, and bellies to indent deliciously. In time with the quick beat blasting above, they danced provocatively while wearing an erotic expression of climax. Sanji swallowed, his throat suddenly feeling dry. 

Stepping onto the dance floor of the main level, Sanji looked down at his feet, noticing how the purple LED flooring reacted to his movements. Bubbly liquid swirled around his feet, moving away in flowy waves. He could have stared all night, stuck in a trance, if not for the crowd around them howling like dogs.

Like— literal dogs.

Sanji stood on the tips of his toes to see the center stage better, immediately understanding why everyone was acting like a pack of feral wolves.

Lined up in a neat row were ten men on their knees—naked except for the dog masks and leather collars they wore. They had their arms bent and tucked against their chests, looking proud as they waited. Subconsciously, Sanji’s hand inched its way up to feel around his neck.

“Alright, quit yer yapping, ya filthy mutts!” A gal screamed into her mic and the howling stopped.

Behind the men on stage was a curvy woman in red latex and stiletto heels that could pierce through the thickest of skin. Her face was mostly hidden by a wild mane of strawberry blonde hair, but her visibly sadistic smile with painted lips sent shivers down Sanji’s spine.

“Now,” she continued, marching the length of the stage. She held a hand high above her head for the audience to see and jingled what looked to be a large keyring. “I’ve only got nine tags with me. Which one of these dogs you think failed ’is trainin’?” She stopped. “Maybe…. this one?!”  

Without mercy, she kicked a man forward onto all fours, who immediately began shaking his head against the floor, pleading. The people around them collectively whimpered and whined in their disagreement.

She cocked her head to the side in thought. “Yeah, I didn’t think so either. He’s a good pup, ain’t he? He gets a tag from Little Sadi.”

The trainer, Sadi, then patted her thigh with enthusiasm, signaling for him to get up. The dog – no, the man, dammit – wasted no time to turn her way, wagging his—

“Oh my god, is the tail connected to a—?”

“Hm?” Zoro glanced lazily at the stage. Frighteningly unphased by the shocking display before grunting with as much enervation as one would muster while discussing the weather. “Oh, yeah.”

As Little Sadi deeply bent at the waist to hook a shiny, silver tag around the D-ring of the collar, a train of people pushed their way through the crowd in front of Sanji, cutting his view of the stage off. He took a stumbling step back, giving them room to pass him by. The train consisted of various busty women with teeny, black booty shorts and no tops.

Sanji’s jaw dropped to the floor.

When they skipped and strutted, their tits jiggled and Sanji’s head bounced with every obscene movement they made. Once the last gal had passed him by and Sanji had properly admired her round ass enough, he turned to the caboose with half-lidded eyes and a goofy grin on his face—floating after them.

“Oi,” Zoro said, yanking Sanji back by the straps of his jacket, forcing him to spin around.

Sanji gritted his teeth, “What the hell?!”

“No wanderin’.”

Putting both hands over Zoro’s chest, Sanji pushed away from him. “What’s the point of taking me to a place like this if I can’t wander off?”

“Do whatever you want,” Zoro murmured the concession with a flippancy, but his tonality insinuated warning rather than permission. He pulled Sanji back in. Holding the straps tight, towering over him, and looking down his nose to say, “But—you might get scooped up and I’ll never see you again.”

That prompted Sanji to give another glance around, this time looking at the patron's faces instead of their bodies. There were a lot of people scattered about the place who connected eyes with him, observing him… and they looked hungry.

Quickly breaking contact and returning to Zoro, Sanji was a little speechless. He had never been in a situation like this before—having people lust after him for simply existing. Zoro looked as if he had expected it, giving him a single nod of understanding between them.

“Now c’mon. We’re not here for the entertainment.”

The two of them weaved in and out of the mass of people. Some clung to them as if they couldn’t help but touch others, and some didn’t even acknowledge them. After being groped three more times, they found themselves skirting the border of the lowered pit of cushions. Sanji nearly tripped on his tongue when he confirmed they were having actual sex right out in the open for Sanji – for anyone! – to see. Without realizing it, Sanji had slowed to a stop to individually study each of the broken off groups.

One pairing sunk their hooks in him, catching his attention entirely. It was a large man – way too hairy for Sanji’s liking – sitting back on a sunken couch with his legs spread wide—very masculine of him. And atop his lap was a petite woman with cartoonishly huge, fake breasts.

The man had his shirt off but kept his pants on, though the woman was naked. Sanji admired her side profile, following the smooth curve of her arched back and the pop of her ass as she slowly ground herself over him. Below, her movements revealed a glossy cock, thickly coated in her juices before it disappeared inside her once again. Sanji felt it was a little warm inside the building – certainly too warm for a leather jacket – especially as he watched the man’s lips suckle at her nipple as if she were feeding him.

When Sanji looked up, he was startled to see the woman had her head angled his way, locking eyes with him while wearing a devilish smile. Sanji’s chest heaved watching her eyes slowly close as her mouth fell open around a ridiculously erotic moan that – even though he couldn’t hear – made his stomach tighten into a heated knot. 

The next thing Sanji knew, there was a hand under his chin, gingerly holding it. Sanji tore his gaze away—an impossible task, really. It was Zoro, delicately regaining his attention.

“Don’t stare,” he said, ducking close to his ear. “Or they'll think you want to join them.”

Suppressing the shiver that threatened to creep up his spine, Sanji mustered up some strength to shove Zoro away. His face scrunched in annoyance for being called out. Zoro simply chuckled and jerked his head for Sanji to keep following him.

Near the back of the pit were massive double doors. There were no markings of whether it was an exit, a bathroom, or a dungeon—for all Sanji knew. Regardless, Zoro cranked it open and went inside like he had done it a hundred times… and Sanji wordlessly followed.

Once again, left literally in the dark, they walked down another hall. At the very end, there was a neon sign with thick letters in all caps. Its low, ominous glow blinked, Red’s.

Underneath was a single, tall man.

Wearing a fishnet bralette and straps that crossed over his chest to hook onto small black shorts, he was covered with a light sheen of sweat. Sanji could understand why, being cooped up in that musty ass hallway. Poor guy deserved a fan.

“Mr. Roronoa,” he greeted as they approached. “It’s been a while—the usual?”

Zoro casually held up his hand, “Just business tonight.”

The man huffed a quiet laugh through his nose as he lazily leaned on a hip. Sanji looked the rest of him over, seeing he was wearing thigh-high fishnet stockings and heavy boots.

“Just business… and yet you’ve brought a snack to share with the class?”

It took a moment to register that this man was talking about Sanji being the snack. Hearing him being referred to as nothing more than a meal to pass around had Sanji bristling so hard he nearly gave himself a kink in his neck. “Excuse me, motherfu—”

“—No,” Zoro quickly interrupted before Sanji could finish that lovely noun. “He’s a photographer, Wire.”

The doorman frowned, his whole demeanor changing. Once loose and playful, now stiff as he turned into a human barrier. Crossing both arms over his broad chest – causing his biceps to bulge unnecessarily – he took a more defensive stance in front of their only way through to the next room. 

“No buzzards allowed, even with you. You know the rules.”

Sanji felt as if he had the wind knocked out of him at the implication that he was the fucking paparazzi — again?! He wasn’t even wearing his camera! This guy could go fuck himself for all Sanji cared—in fact, forget the fan! Turn the heat up! Roast this bitch!

Just barely holding back a growl, Sanji began to step past Zoro to tell the imbecile off but was stopped by Zoro’s hand over his chest and placating, “Easy.” He then turned to the bouncer-doorman-asshole to say, “Don’t get him started— please.” The hand fell back to his side but proceeded to argue amiably. “He’s a nature photographer. A professional.”

Wire quirked an eyebrow. 

Sanji blinked with surprise at what he just heard. Masking his shock, he continued to face forward, letting Zoro do the talking.

Wire took an offensively long time to look Sanji over, heavily debating the situation. Finally, he said, “Alright. But I’m holding you responsible, Mr. Roronoa, if this little…” Wire mulled over the right word to use. “...professional decides to switch career paths.” Then he stepped to the side.

A wave of tobacco smoke dramatically billowed toward them, listlessly falling to their feet, once the doors were opened. It was backlit by the red and blue lighting, making it glow an ever-changing mixture of purple.

Inside was another bar and a smaller, shorter stage running the length of the room through the middle. Two silver poles on either end, occupied by dancers. 

Zoro flicked his head toward the bartender, a tall man in a flimsy corset who tipped his head in return. Seemingly heading towards the back – what a surprise – they passed various booths tucked into the depths of the walls. Sanji tried getting a peek inside, but most of them had their sheer curtains closed, keeping their business from Sanji’s prying eyes. But he was curious—and if he squinted, he could see through…

Sanji audibly gasped, quickly looking away before trotting to keep up with Zoro. He squeezed his eyes shut to get the image out, but he could still hear her muffled screaming, along with the other lewd sex sounds surrounding them. Sanji’s cock throbbed thinking of the woman laying across the table on her back as another girl enthusiastically lapped between her splayed legs and a man aggressively fucked into her mouth.

To steady himself, Sanji reached out to place a hand over Zoro’s shoulder again. How this guy was able to hold himself together was beyond Sanji—he was on the verge of collapsing to his knees! Upon reaching the back where the curtains turned into pocket doors, they finally entered their own booth.

Zoro scooted in first, following along the round seat until he was sitting in the middle—facing the door. Sanji slid the door closed behind him and only scooted halfway, leaving plenty of space between the two of them. At first, he tried crossing his legs under the table, though that was uncomfortable, so he opted for setting his hands in his lap and let out a defeated sigh. 

Glancing over, Sanji frowned at Zoro’s shit-eating grin aimed at him. 

“What?!” he snapped.

“Go on, then,” Zoro chuckled, dismissively waving his hand toward him. 

Sanji crinkled his face with confusion. “The fuck are you on about?”

Zoro tilted his head to the side and raised an eyebrow, still smirking at him. Then his eyes flicked down, referring to his crotch. “Go ahead and adjust your dick.”

“I don’t—” he started, attempting to defend himself but stopped, figuring it was useless. Instead, Sanji gritted his teeth, rolled his eyes, and took the given opportunity to rearrange his erection so he could sit properly.

~

If Zoro had to admit that he didn’t enjoy the spectacle of the easily flustered photographer being put through the obstacle course of the club then he’d be a liar. He’d thoroughly enjoyed it. Perhaps even reveled in it a little as the sight of the man getting visibly aroused by his surroundings was strangely satisfying—and a little vindicating.

As much as he felt like he had the upper hand with the photographer, Zoro had to admit there were times when he felt at odds with how much governance Sanji had over him sexually—regardless of whether he knew or not. It was a leverage that unsettled him to relinquish.

Once Sanji finished getting himself comfortably adjusted, Zoro finally broached with a knowing smile, “So, whaddya think?”

“It's okay ,” Sanji grumbled with averted eyes, definitely deflecting.

Shakily wrestling a pack of smokes from his jacket pocket – attempting a calm façade, but failing spectacularly – Sanji fingered out a smoke before stopping short with realization. He glanced up. Fingers twisting a playful flick to indicate his cigarette while asking in a regretful moue, “Can I smoke in here?”

Zoro barked a laugh.

Sanji stared flatly, “Is that a no?”

“What do you think?” Zoro inevitably drawled.

Sanji just stared, inciting.

“You could do a rail off my dick,” Zoro scoffed. “They don’t care.”

Eyes darting down to Zoro’s junk, the photographer appeared to sincerely contemplate the offer – wild what Sanji would consider doing when aroused – but slowly declined with a twiddle of the cigarette between his fingers, "Think I'll just… stick to the cig."

Zoro lifted and dropped a shoulder with a sigh—feigning disappointment.

Sanji’s eyes twitched like he wanted to roll them, but refrained.

“What are we here for?” Sanji drawled, “Couldn't just go to a regular bar like regular people?”

“Need to pick something up; the guy that owns this place…” Zoro paused before deciding on how to choose his next words. Sanji didn’t need to know the depths to which this guy was involved in the black market movement of weapons, “He's a… collector?”

Sanji looked wary, “Of what? ”

“General goods,” Zoro decided on the white lie. “Mainly, he’s into the buying and selling of antiquities—especially weapons.”

“Funny way of saying 'stolen artifacts.'” Sanji sneered, doing nothing to hide his disapproval. “Nice. Sounds like a great guy.”

“You must be fun at a party,” Zoro muttered, but didn’t deny it.

That was exactly what the man was involved in—among many, many other things. Zoro didn’t even know how deep Kid’s dealings went. Frankly, he wasn’t interested, as in his extensive experience it was always safer that the less he knew the better.

 “ So ,” Sanji emphasized the word, far louder than necessary, to make clear he wanted the subject dropped, “After this, we headed back to the States?”

“Depends,” Zoro shrugged.

“On… ?”

“How soon you need to get back home to ‘work’?” Zoro flicked his fingers mockingly.

Sanji made a face. “How does anyone tolerate you?”

Zoro ignored the clearly rhetorical jab.

“I was being serious about my end of the deal,” Zoro acknowledged their earlier discussion. “Nami picked out a place nearby—tomorrow is entirely yours.”

Sanji looked ready to retaliate with something sharp, but caught himself as the words registered.

A surprised, “Oh.” tumbled out before he could stop it.

Staring at Zoro for a long moment – as though wary – like expecting the other shoe to drop; Zoro wondered if Sanji really thought he was that sadistic. He debated on what to say to reassure the photographer, but was conveniently interrupted. A soft chiming whispered throughout the booth – causing Sanji to jump minutely, much to Zoro’s enjoyment – announcing a hostess waiting outside.

Zoro called for her to enter.

With a muted groan, the heavy metal door was drawn aside on its sliding tracks to reveal one of the waitresses in a latex bodysuit with a large brass tray poised elegantly in hand. She stepped forward with a playful bow, “Mr. Roronoa.”

Swiftly grabbing the drink off the tray and sweeping it down to place in front of Zoro, she gave a little flourish while murmuring, [“The usual.”] then straightened once more. She turned expectantly to Sanji. Tray tucked studiously under her arm while her bedazzled hand reached out to stroke a finger beneath the enchanted photographer’s chin.

[“And what can I get you ,”] her finger retracted with the candy red nail softly scratching his chin, then swiveling up to tap him on the nose. [“Sweetheart?”]

Sanji dopily smiled, then managed a delirious, “Pardon?”

Moving his drink to cover his smile, Zoro muttered against the rim, [“He doesn’t speak German.”]

She paused, then immediately repeated her sentiment.

“Ah–anything,” Sanji stuttered, eyes glazed over dreamily. A fluttering blink had Sanji realizing just how stupid that was and corrected himself, “I mean, uh, whatever you suggest, my dear.”

“Okay, darling,” she crooned with a tap of her nail to his nose.

Watching the spectacle over the top of his glass, Zoro hid his smirk at how incredibly dopey the photographer could be. The man was completely useless around women. It was comical .

Zoro stifled an eye roll.

Sanji was staring.

Zoro grunted—eyebrow cocked.

“What’s with the pink drink?”

Without batting an eye, Zoro took another happy pull from the heavy liquor before addressing Sanji with a lazy waggle of the tumbler. The ice clattered splendidly. Allowing the photographer a moment to become hypnotized by the swaying drink before those sharp eyes darted back to Zoro intently.

“Watermelon whiskey,” Zoro divulged.

Sanji broached skeptically, “A cocktail?”

“What’s wrong with a cocktail?”

“Nothing…” Sanji swiftly shook his head, then muttered under his breath. “Just don’t seem like a cocktail kinda guy.”

“I like watermelon,” Zoro drawled. “Sue me.”

“Yeah, don’t think I’d win that one,” Sanji muttered under his breath before taking a drag on his cig. On the exhale, his gaze flicked to Zoro’s drink, and then something flashed decisively, “Gimme that.”

Curious more than anything, Zoro submitted as the photographer snatched the drink out of his hand. He took a large gulp, perhaps bigger than Zoro would’ve liked, but Sanji’s brazen behavior was interesting to watch. As the nearly empty drink was shoved back into his hand, Zoro watched Sanji exhale heavily, then cough through a laugh, “Shit, that’s strong.”

Zoro glanced at the pitiful liquor left, then back to Sanji.

“I see why you like it,” Sanji noted. “I want one of those next.”

“Me too,” Zoro mumbled as he tossed back the remnants.

As if on cue, the door slid open to reveal their server, who had two drinks at the ready; Sanji’s and a replacement for Zoro. She was phenomenal at her job. And when Zoro got a hold of his drink, he made sure to keep it in the hand furthest away from the grabby photographer.

Sanji took a pull on his drink, then settled into his seat; enjoying both cigarette and liquor in hedonistic rotation before addressing Zoro once more.

“So,” Sanji broached. “What was that whole conference about anyway? Some new car?”

Zoro arched a brow, “What?”

Sanji stared blankly, and when Zoro didn’t catch on, he laughed, “You’re kidding, right?”

“You were there ,” Zoro’s shoulder bounced with a small scoff. “Weren’t you listening?”

“I don’t speak German ,” Sanji countered just as dryly, then amended, “I mean… I caught a few words, but no; didn’t really know what was going on.”

That caused Zoro to pause before the ridiculousness of the situation properly settled. He barked a violent laugh. Actually having to consciously balance his drink as he leaned in with an apologetic chuckle, “ Right .”

Sanji rolled his eyes. “And Usopp says you’re a genius.” 

Zoro chose to ignore that jab.

“It’s a new auto-navigation system,” Zoro put it as simply as he could. He had no intention of getting into specifics while at a bar, plus in his previous experience, it tended to bore people. “It’s not self-driving, but essentially it’ll eliminate a lot of accidents caused by human error; drunk driving, texting, yadda yadda.”

Sanji didn’t say anything, but did look at him fairly heavily; shoulders dropping, eyebrows scrunching.

“Anything like that,” Zoro surmised, then released Sanji from his torture, “Boring, I know.”

“No, no…” Sanji waved his cigarette aggressively. “What do you mean?”

Zoro stared in surprise that Sanji didn’t simply dismiss him, usually people took the out when they saw it.

“Well…” Zoro continued, then paused to try and put it in layman’s terms. He tapped the side of his glass absently. Licking his lips just as subconsciously before trying again, “Sort of like predictive text, but for the road—it’ll never be perfect, but it compensates for little things; drifting across lines, speed regulation. All that stuff that usually varies when you’re distracted.”

“How would that stop someone from crashing?”

“Most accidents occur because of a momentary deviation in traffic flow, but if you eliminate those minor issues then accidents and gridlock drop rapidly,” Zoro paused before trying to stress again an issue that he probably repeated to promoters so many times he’d lost count. “It’s not self-driving though—it just mitigates drift.”

“To make up for the shitass driver?”

“Sort of, but it won’t make you a better driver or stop people from making stupid decisions—I can’t safely program a car for that; the liability alone in the self-driving industry is ridiculous . What we can do is address inactivity. Like if someone falls asleep at the wheel or passes out drunk,” Zoro waved his hand idly. “It adjusts for drift, but if it’s in that state too long then it engages an idle protocol—pulls over and waits until there’s driver activity again.”

“I see.”

A flicker of remorse reverberated across the photographer, but was masterfully hidden just as swiftly.

Zoro’s curiosity piqued.

While debating whether or not to press, the decision was taken from him as the door chime sounded for a third time. He grunted, and the door was swept back to expose the owner of the club—Kid. A burly man with eccentric red hair, ostentatious fashion sense, and a proclivity for the more… unconventional.

“Roronoa,” Kid crooned while extending a hand. He caught Zoro’s up in a burly handshake. Squeezing monstrously hard – a point Zoro made to ignore – Kid goaded, “‘Bout time you came around again—if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you only used me for my resources.”

Zoro allowed the jab.

Returning the shake with an idle smirk, and friendly – but pointed – acknowledgment, “Good thing you know better. Eustass .”

The proprietor grinned; violent and sharp.

Gaze shifting to the other occupant in the room, Kid was unperturbed at Sanji’s presence – Wire must have warned him the moment they left – but Zoro could see the piqued interest. He spent a second too long staring the moody photographer up and down. There was something hungry about it that irked Zoro.

“An’ who’s this then?” Kid purred.

Zoro opened his mouth, but Sanji was quicker.

“Sanji,” the photographer huffed. Arms coming to cross firmly over his chest with a withering glare, “I don’t shake hands with racketeers.”

Zoro’s face cracked.

The dumbass—

A beat passed – where Zoro seriously considered their options of leaving alive – before Kid broke; head thrown back with an uproarious cackle. He clutched his chest in shock while turning to Zoro. Reaching out to slap Zoro hard on the back and jeering, “Oh, I like this one—keep him around.”

“We’ll see,” Zoro muttered, but shot Sanji a sharp look.

Sanji flipped him off.

Deciding not to waste Kid’s goodwill, Zoro swiftly deviated the conversation back to the matter at hand before Sanji could get either of them in any more danger, “So, you got the paperwork?”

“In my office,” Kid grimaced, “but like I said on the phone, the provenance of this one is incredibly complicated. ‘Dunno if it’s even worth the effort. Now, if you’d be willing to let me alter some—”

“No,” Zoro dismissed Kid’s attempted suasion. “Show me the authentication.”

“‘ight,” Kid sighed, clearly put out by Zoro’s unwillingness to cut corners. He gestured for Zoro to follow. Moving to step just outside the room and wait, but pausing to send Sanji a hungry grin, “Enjoy your evening, Spitfire.”

“It’s Sanji .”

“I’ll be right back,” Zoro reassured as he followed Kid, but when he reached the door, the discomfort on Sanji’s face was evident. “You want some entertainment?”

Sanji heaved a sigh and shook his head, moments from waving Zoro off when Kid interrupted.

“‘Course ‘e does!” Barking over any refusal Sanji might have had, Kid was already waving down a passing hostess, “Get Hina and Domino o’er here right now—pamper ‘im.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Zoro caught sight of Sanji’s panicked expression and frantic declinations – “No, no, really please.” – that was a hilarious juxtaposition to his earlier arousal. His gaze pleaded to Zoro for deliverance. Stifling a laugh at Sanji’s sudden bashfulness, Zoro reassured the babbling photographer with a playful smirk and encouraging wink as he stepped out the door.

“Have fun~”

~

The door slid shut, leaving Sanji mildly anxious. In between blinding white lights, blaring horns, and the ear-splitting screech of tires trying their damndest to brake, brake, brake —he was also left alone in an unfamiliar place with company on the way, expecting who knows what from him.

Despite barely finishing his first drink, Sanji’s head started to spin. He squeezed his eyes shut in a childish attempt to make the horrifying images – forever burned in his mind – to just go away! Try as he might, though, he couldn’t disassociate that nightmare experience from what Zoro had explained to him.

The laughing was too loud, the road too dark, the radio blasting with music he could never bring himself to listen to again.

Directly followed by a short burst of screams before they were abruptly cut off… for good.

Then red.

Lots of red.

To think there was technology being made today that was designed to prevent such stupid choices by stupid teenagers. Sanji plopped his face into his hands – an attempt to control his breathing – and growled in frustration and pain and—

Suddenly, the pocket door was aggressively opened. It slammed in place, startling Sanji from his spiraling memories. He jolted from his slumped position to see two women in burgundy uniforms and aviators blocking his only exit.

The woman on the left wore a pantsuit—blazer buttoned dangerously low. Her lack of undershirt showed off her modest cleavage. She adjusted her leather gloves before tossing her long, pink hair over her shoulder and plucking a lit cigarette from her lips.

“We’ve been assigned to you,” she said in a deep, sultry voice, then blew out her mouthful of smoke. “I’m Officer Hina, and this here,” Hina jerked her head toward the other, a blonde who was in the same outfit except sporting a mini skirt, “is Officer Domino—and that is how you will address us.”

Sanji’s eyebrows turned up with worry.

“Uh… Hello, officers.”

He hated to turn them away. Any other time he was being handed two gorgeous women on a silver platter, he would have considered them godsent. But right now, he wasn’t buying into the act, too caught up in his mind about shit he couldn’t change.

Before he could open his mouth and spoil the mood entirely, Domino stepped in front of Hina to place two large liquor bottles down on the table.

“And what shall we call you?” Domino cooed.

Trying to hold his ground but still unable to be rude to a lady – no matter how shitty his mood – he told them his name.

“Well, I hope you’re thirsty… Sanji.”

Giving a nervous huff of laughter, Sanji shook his head to politely decline. “So sorry for the trouble, but I’m not—”

As Sanji tried refusing them, Domino pushed the alcohol away, forcing the glass bottles to slide to the far side of the table. She hopped up and walked the length of the bench until she got to Sanji. With each step, the cushion pinched under the pressure of her heels. One long, pale leg stepped over his lap so she could plant herself on the table directly in front of him. With her legs wide open, Sanji was given a clear view of what was underneath that short skirt—which was nothing at all.

Sanji groaned while letting out a stuttered breath, “Fuuuck…”

Hina climbed in next after shutting the door. Domino began dutifully unbuttoning her blazer – almost sneering with a raised lip – as she looked down her nose at him. He could see himself staring up at her in the mirrored reflection of her aviators with a confused expression, looking lost like an inexperienced dunce.

“I said, I hope you’re thirsty,” Domino repeated once her top fell open. She took her pointer fingers and traced the edges of it, slowly pulling the fabric aside to reveal her pierced nipples.

“I— I am,” he whined, ready to agree to anything she said. “I am so thirsty.”

“That’s what I thought,” Hina said lowly. Quickly sitting up and reaching across the table, she grabbed a bottle and rested it in her lap as she twisted the cap off. “Now how much have you had to drink so far tonight?”

Sanji tried tearing his eyes away from the huge pair of tits six inches from his face, though didn’t have much luck. There was something so hypnotizing about the metal rings that he didn’t process what was being asked of him. “Wha…?” Shaking his head out of the trance, he was able to register the question properly. “Uh… just the one.”

Domino tutted, wagging a finger in front of his nose. “That just won’t do.”

“Lean forward and stick out your tongue,” Hina commanded, the cigarette bouncing on her lip.

Domino gently placed the tip of her sharpened fingernail under Sanji’s chin – giving it a few tickling scratches – and guided him closer to her chest, which she proudly puffed, back arched.

“Stay,” she whispered down at him.

Using both her hands, she squished her tits together to close the gap and touched them to Sanji’s lips. He watched her tongue fall from her mouth, reminding Sanji he needed to do the same. Hesitantly, he did so, wedging it between her cleavage and patiently waited.

The bottle came into view and so Sanji opened his mouth all the wider to catch the falling liquor. A flavored vodka, it seemed, starting at her collarbone and trickling its way down. It was a messy act—nearly half of it veered to the sides, running down Sanji’s cheeks and neck to soak into his expensive clothing.

“There you go~” Domino cooed slowly, punctuating each word breathily.

Hina allowed him to swallow before giving him one more shot’s worth. When she finally pulled it away to set on the table, Domino grabbed the sides of his head to keep him in place. She looked down at him sweetly, petting his hair and rubbing his back while speaking lowly to him. Her language had switched back to German and Sanji wasn’t sure if she was even aware—not that Sanji cared.

How could he, in his position?

Mushed against a soft, warm body – even if a little wet – was beginning to relax Sanji enough to cause his eyes to droop. He lifted his arms to lightly wrap around Domino’s waist, keeping her close.

Then, breaking the serenity Sanji had fallen into, Hina hiked a larger, hidden bottle out from under the table and slammed it down with a tight grip around the neck. “Now we switch to something heavier.”

Sanji didn’t plan on getting trashed, at least not without Zoro around. He was in a foreign country, in a strange place with strange people, and currently alone. This may have been normal for these people, but Sanji was wildly out of his element and in way over his head.

Zoro hadn’t mentioned how long he would be gone, either…

There wasn’t much choice left but to go along with whatever it was these women suggested. Which wasn’t torture, really.  

Domino had slipped her top off and pulled back to lay down on the table, presenting herself in front of Sanji like a gourmet meal. He licked his lips at the sight, mouth suddenly feeling all too dry. And as he watched in a daze as Hina poured the rich, amber liquid of ‘something heavier’ into Hina’s belly button, he knew exactly how to quench his thirst.

The alcohol – whiskey, if Sanji had to guess by the smell – gradually pooled in the dip of Domino’s perfectly toned navel. Hina lifted her chin with a flick, Sanji’s cue to get to it. Without much thinking, he got to his feet and hovered over Domino’s belly, running his nose along her soft skin before quickly slurping up the alcohol.

Yeap, that sure was whiskey!

Sanji stifled a cough. 

That shit was strong. Watermelon—same flavoring as Zoro’s abandoned drink on the far side of the table. A pulse of dizziness rushed through him, already feeling his head spin. Just as he was bending his knees to sit back down, Hina slammed her hand down on the table.

“Another!” she demanded around her cigarette. Before Sanji could protest, she was already dribbling the next shot over Domino.

These… these people drank like they didn’t want to live.

Domino wriggled in place, knees rubbing together as her hands came up to cup under her breasts. In little rivulets, the whiskey ran down her sides from her movements. She turned her head to the side, mouth falling open, and a whisper of a sigh leaving her lips.

“Sanji~”

The way she moaned his name – such a welcoming invitation – Sanji nearly dove for her to drink up the alcohol, lapping up every last drop by sucking over her belly button. She hummed her encouragement, then gently placed her hands on his cheeks to guide his head up her body, stopping when he was directly above a pert nipple, which met his lips on its own when she arched her back high off the table.

Sanji lathed his tongue over her nipple before sucking it into his mouth and giving it an aggressive tug. He let go with a pop and raised his head to look up at Domino’s flushed face. She smirked at him and lifted her glasses.

“Would you like me to dance for you?”

Sanji glanced at the pole and then back down at Domino, returning the smile. He placed a kiss in the valley between her breasts. “Please do… Officer.”

And suddenly, Sanji couldn’t seem to remember what he was so upset about earlier.

~

Sword – in a long, sleek case – tucked under his arm, Zoro made his way back through the club; pleased, if only slightly irritated, about having to deal with Kid. The guy was a handy acquaintance, but always was trying to rope him into shady dealings. Nami hated that he even had the man’s contact info, but the enemy of his enemy was his friend…

For the time being.

Someone bumped into him – murmuring an apology – which had Zoro readjusting the case to keep it more protected. The club had grown far more crowded as the night wore on. Much of the lounges were occupied – their doors shut – while the main stage was occupied by several dancers now.

Zoro appreciated when places were busier, it allowed him to slip through unnoticed much easier.

After a confusing detour past a second stage – remarkably similar to the first one, and didn’t recall being here the last time he’d come to this club – Zoro found their lounge again. He swore Kid was always adding new rooms and stages to this place. Although, Zoro had no clue how considering the building always remained the same size from the outside.

Not bothering to knock, Zoro snagged the door handle while shouldering inside; he’d expected any number of salacious things – drugs, alcohol, naked writhing bodies – but was met with nothing like that. The girls were not in any compromising positions, the photographer was not taking advantage of the situation, and no one was nude.

Sanji was, however, on the table.

While his jacket was discarded – the red leather crumpled on the floor – Sanji was still clothed all the way down to his sneakers. His face had a drunken flush. At the door opening, Sanji had immediately spun around on the pole with an arm boisterously thrusted aloft in greeting. “AYE! You’re back!”

“You’re drunk,” Zoro noted.

“That, I am!” Sanji crooned happily while leaning his cheek against the glowing plastic of the pole. He patted it like a drunk companion. “These lovely ladies were teaching me how to use one of these.”

“Oh, yeah?” Zoro arched his brow humorously; he leaned the boxed sword carefully out of sight.

Dropping down into the circular booth opposite the girls, Zoro made a performance of getting settled; arm slung over the backrest, ankle propped on his knee, and gaze raking readily over Sanji’s form. He snatched his drink up, the ice a little melted. Taking a gracious pull of the watery liquor, then inclined it invitingly towards the photographer.

“Lessee then.”

“Oh, uh…” Sanji trailed off in a haze of drunken disconcertment, “I'd rather leave the entertainment to the professionals.”

“Didn’t take you for a coward,” Zoro drawled.

It was too easy.

“What?!” Sanji bristled, clearly offended, “ No , I just won't be any good?!”

“Coward,” Zoro jeered, again.

Words a catalyst to Sanji’s volatile disposition, the photographer steeled himself while his face warped with determination and ruddy rage. His hand twitched on the pole. There was a moment where Zoro wondered if he’d pushed too far and was going to get a flying kick to the face, but Sanji’s competitiveness won out.

Zoro watched Sanji swallow—a stiff, awkward thing.

It was readily apparent that Sanji was coming to the drunken realization that he didn’t know what he was doing, but had ingested just enough liquid courage to attempt it anyway. Nervous hands rose to his chest. Fingers fumbling to find the zipper before managing to start tugging it down. When the zipper was undone, the women gave encouraging hollers that had Sanji glancing timidly towards them.

One of the girls pointed towards the ceiling while managing to mouth loudly over the music, “The beat—follow the beat.”

“Close your eyes,” the other laughed. “It helps.”

Sanji studiously shut his eyes.

And it did help—a little.

All of the photographer’s movements were still clunky, disjointed, and awkward, but at the very least Zoro’s staring was no longer distracting him. Sanji’s fingers flicked absently at his chest to curl beneath the lapels of his hoodie. The clumsiness began to dissipate as the photographer paid closer attention to the music. His head bobbing along; bangs swaying hypnotically. Heel lifting to count every offbeat. Even his body was beginning to relax into the flux of the music, but Zoro wasn’t sure if that part was intentional.

Sanji began to ease off the hoodie to the music.

Shoulders rolling in a sensuous wave to slide the fabric off, the garment pooled at the crooks of his elbows and revealed the simple black tee-shirt beneath that was strangely adorable for such a lascivious place. And as Sanji managed to shimmy out of the sleeves Zoro found his gaze drawn to the photographer’s exposed arms. Extremely pale in contrast to all the black clothing Keimi had put him in, but cast in a warm hue of purple from the ambient lighting.

Every twist from the photographer had his forearms flexing to cause enticing shadows to ignite across the corded muscles. His hands were just as sharply distinguished. As he jerked the sleeve of the hoodie the rest of the way off his other arm, the tendons and knuckles of Sanji’s hand were highlighted gorgeously. Once the hoodie was finally off, Sanji proceeded to ball it up and toss it aside on an empty part of the booth before cracking open an eye.

Zoro grinned encouragingly.

With the liquor and the uncertainty, Sanji wobbled awkwardly as he lifted a foot to attempt to toe off the heel. He struggled for a bit, definitely too long for what was supposed to be a seductive display. Eventually giving up entirely and hefting his foot up to tug the shoe off by hand, but not before Zoro let slip a soft chuckle at the spectacle.

Between the pounding music, imbibed liquor, and disorienting lighting, Zoro had hoped his smile would have gone unnoticed, but Sanji had a penchant for detecting mockery.

A shoe came hurtling at Zoro’s head.

Thankfully for Zoro, he was beginning to become well acquainted with Sanji’s temperament and reactionary antics, so his arm was already raised before he’d even finished laughing. He wasn’t entirely sure what that said about their relationship. Perhaps it wasn’t entirely the healthiest situation if he could already predict what was going to get something thrown at his head.

And it definitely wasn’t healthy that he liked it…

Whether it was the liquor, the look on Sanji’s face, or the way the girls gasped in horror – most likely a combination of the three – it only spurred Zoro to laugh harder. Falling into hysterical cackles. He kept one arm raised in case of the second shoe, but the other hand ended up sloshing his drink. Ultimately getting a hold of himself, Zoro’s laughter tapered off and he cracked an eye to find Sanji fuming on the stage.

“Do you wanna see this or not?!”

Zoro pressed his lips together in a vain attempt to calm himself.

Sanji’s eyes narrowed.

Without a word the battle of wills continued, Zoro gazing up with an encouraging smile and Sanji glaring down at him in shirt, jeans, and socks like an angry child that lost his shoes. He could see Sanji debating ending it right there and then, but Zoro let his gaze flick to the ladies and back. Reminding the photographer that they weren’t alone, Zoro could see Sanji wrestle with his pride – refusing to lose in front of an audience – before dropping his hands to the hem of his shirt.

There was no timid eye-shutting, or bashful glances, this time Sanji just glared in absolute murderous rage directly at Zoro; and Zoro could feel himself starting to get hard. The photographer had grabbed his attention since day one for this very reason. He didn’t want softness, he didn’t want timidness – damn, but if he wasn’t sick of that shit – he wanted this .

He wanted Sanji looking at him like he was deciding whether to strangle him with shirt, belt, or both.

Zoro smirked heatedly.

Wrenching the shirt over his head without an ounce of sex appeal – and yet the most arousing thing he’d done yet – Sanji balled it up and hucked it at Zoro’s head. Zoro let it hit him in the face. Smiling brightly as it slid down and landed on his chest where Zoro snatched it up, then glanced at it.

Deliberating for half a second before rationalizing that this was all a game, and Zoro wanted to unnerve the photographer. He held the balled-up fabric to his face, then took a lengthy inhale of Sanji’s musk already lingering. It reminded him of the first time they fucked – and after the fact – Zoro’s cock properly swelling at the memory.

Zoro slowly released the shirt, but glanced up to make sure Sanji saw everything.

Sanji didn’t respond, but at least looked caught off guard— good .

Zoro smirked.

Tossing the shirt aside, Zoro properly drank in the sight of the shirtless photographer; and that perfect, toned body that had become the object of his obsession. His gaze raked down the tight physique before finally landing on the delicate little gold chain Keimi had managed to wrestle on the embarrassed photographer’s waist. It was superfluous, ridiculous, and devastatingly hot. 

Pink and purple danced off the little bit of metal that clung around Sanji’s muscular hips; the chain following the defined curve of his lithe body. And Zoro’s mouth watered at the thought of tonguing beneath the cold chain. Tug it with his teeth and feel the resistance as it bit – sunk – into Sanji’s gorgeous skin; maybe leave little red indents he could kiss better.

When Zoro glanced back up, it was evident he stared too long – or had revealed something on his face – because Sanji was now looking at him with a cocky confidence that was almost worrying. He was still annoyed, but violently vindicated. And when his hands dropped to his jeans, there was a sensuality to his movements that had been woefully missing previously.

Sanji knew he was winning, and Zoro didn’t know how to get the edge back.

Head tilting back – golden curls spilling around his face and neck – Sanji gazed down victoriously at Zoro while thumbing the button on his jeans with a teasing playfulness. Zoro swallowed; thick and tacky. Acutely aware that now both Sanji, and the girls , were watching him.

As Sanji popped the button, Zoro quickly tossed back the rest of his drink and set it aside; he needed to get some control back. He braced both arms back across the back of the booth. Focused on enjoying the show no matter the cost, but as Sanji slid the zipper down, exposing the bulge of his own cock hidden beneath his briefs, Zoro knew he was in trouble.

Flaring the fly as much as possible, Sanji’s hands migrated to his hips, then started to shimmy the pants down his thighs; the pale skin glowing purple under the ambient lighting. Letting them pool at his feet, then stepping out of them and toeing off his socks in the process.

The girls cheered loudly.

Zoro just stared.

Hooking his thumbs in the waistband, Sanji pulled it down enough to reveal the thick base of his cock, then rolled his hips teasingly. And Zoro could tell the photographer was starting to get hard. He was getting off on the attention. From Zoro watching him, and the girls being in the room with them.

Whether it was drunkenness, arousal, or spite – or all three – the photographer had officially abandoned all reservations and grabbed the pole. He grabbed it high above his head, then spun to rest his back against it. Fingers trailed down the glowing tube while lowering into a deep squat with his legs spread far too salaciously; his other hand trailed down his front before coming to rest over his junk.

Lip curling in with a bite, Sanji’s eyes lidded while kneading himself through his briefs, and Zoro could’ve sworn he heard a moan through the pounding music. Zoro was now hard . And this whole thing was on the verge of getting incredibly out of hand.

“ Careful, ” Zoro warned.

Sanji devilishly smirked.

At some point, Zoro realized he’d leaned forward – actively drawn towards Sanji and the stage – but unable to remember when he’d moved; so entranced by the other his actions had become instinctive. He didn’t entirely like that, but didn’t hate it either. There was something about the photographer unbalancing him – ripping his sense of control out from under his feet – that was exciting and new and liberating.

It made it hard to look away.

Zoro gave in to the urge.

Hand sneaking out in an attempt to graze an ankle – maybe get a grip to finally haul Sanji to him – but Sanji was suddenly adeptly swift for someone who was apparently drunk. Although, from experience, Zoro had learned he was pretty good with his legs.

Sharply batting Zoro’s hand away with a hard swat, Sanji stood, then stepped towards the edge of the stage before leaning down to get in Zoro’s face.

“Nuh-uh,” Sanji sneered, “No touching.”

Defiance and arousal clashed within Zoro so viscerally it immobilized him—and he couldn’t discern what caused what; the confidence, the denial, or the command. Zoro was coming to terms that there was something about Sanji ordering him around that had him instantly, violently hard.

Every fiber of his being wanted to crawl up onto the stage and pin that imperious photographer to the floor – his head swam just from the thought – but fighting that urge to obey Sanji instead had his breath hitching in ways that it never had before.

His mouth was suddenly too dry and too wet all at once.

Through his miasma of arousal, Zoro distantly heard one of the women snicker, “He’s a natural.”

“Sit back,” Sanji ordered. “Mosshead.”

A growl slipped out before Zoro could stifle it; he… wanted to see what Sanji would do. If he kept pushing – kept defying – how would Sanji handle him? Zoro already knew he liked it when Sanji would put him in his place, but how far could he go before the photographer surrendered. Or would he never?

Arousal had Zoro itching to find out, so he didn’t follow the order—instead waiting for what Sanji would do once it was clear Zoro had no intention to listen.

Sanji’s eyes narrowed.

Hand minutely adjusting its grip on the pole, Sanji took a step forward and then extended his other leg with the obvious intention of kicking Zoro back into his seat. As the foot neared, Zoro decided to play. Allowing his mouth to fall open and tongue to loll out invitingly to the toe just inches from his face.

Sanji’s eyes bugged in realization before snatching his leg back with a horrified vengeance.

Zoro smirked victoriously.

Forcing as much smug satisfaction into the grin as he could and reveling in the fury that immediately sparked on Sanji’s face at showing weakness. The photographer snarled while Zoro’s grin only grew wilder in excitement. And then Sanji snapped.

Completely abandoning the pole, Sanji stomped up to the edge of the stage and planted the heel of his foot against Zoro’s forehead then proceeded to slam him back into the couch. His neck forced over the coping of the cushion. It wasn’t particularly uncomfortable, except for the weight of the full-grown man currently bearing down on top of him, but once again, Zoro couldn’t stop himself from chuckling happily at the turn of events; he hadn’t had this much fun in years.

In his periphery, Zoro could hear the girls once again gasping in shock, which only enhanced the thrill. It was difficult to take in Sanji in all of his glory, but through a cracked eye Zoro could just make out the way the photographer was lunging off the stage to keep his foot planted on Zoro’s face; he made a point to grind his heel against Zoro’s forehead for good measure.

 Sanji snarled, “You. Are. So. Obnoxious!”

Taking advantage of the precarious position, Zoro finally stopped laughing long enough to snag an ankle – his other hand hovering behind the photographer protectively – and yank Sanji down into his lap. It was akin to wrangling a bobcat.

The photographer was not pleased. And went down about as gracefully as one could while angry, drunk, and mostly naked.

After some disgruntled struggling – a palm to his face and knee narrowly missing his nose – Sanji was finally left straddling Zoro’s lap with a venomous scowl. His jaw was set and his teeth were bared. Taking approximately three seconds to catch his breath before pouncing on Zoro once more in between aggressive yelps and angry shouts.

“—Cannot fucking stand you—Let go—No manners—Privledged rich-boy—Can’t just enjoy the show, can you—”

Zoro was only able to cackle in response.

After a bit more back and forth – which left both girls terrified and in shock on the other side of the booth – Sanji eventually detached himself with a sharp elbow to the chin that had Zoro’s teeth clacking loudly. He tumbled backward onto the stage while Zoro clutched his mouth. Tongue swishing about to check for blood before shooting the photographer a look.

Sanji sat sprawled on the edge of the table like some sort of flushed god.

Entirely unabashed in his partial nudity as he braced his arms behind him to support his weight while leaving his thighs splayed without an iota of shame. Through the thin fabric of his briefs, his sizable length was noticeably more swollen than it had been earlier. Apparently, Zoro wasn’t the only one who got off on this repartee of performative banter.

Quite suddenly the game was over…

Imperceptible to the eye, but significant enough that Sanji could feel it, Zoro's touch on the photographer's ankles switched from playful to serious. Sanji's expression shifted to something intensely calm as Zoro's hands began to move with intent. Unable to tear his gaze away from the enrapturing photographer, Zoro turned his head but refused to take his eyes off Sanji as he growled at the girls, “Get out.”

There was a petulant huff, “ Excuse— ”

Zoro’s hands finished their journey to come to rest on Sanji’s knees.

“ Out .”

~

At the sound of the door slamming shut, Sanji burst into laughter, feeling slightly unhinged. Drunkenly giggling into his hands to hide his face, he peeked through his fingers to say, “Oooh~, that wasn't very nice of you.”

Genuinely perplexed by Sanji’s chiding, Zoro wrenched Sanji forward with a mean grip on his ankles. “Since when do you care about being nice?!”

Sanji couldn’t suppress his laughter.

Normally, if he were sober, that type of behavior would have had him kicking Zoro’s fucking teeth in. Dismissing women with such disrespect made him sick. But, since he was drunk off his ass, his retaliation was a little slower.

Only a little slower.

Sanji’s smirk lasted but a millisecond before he speedily reached out to grab Zoro by his jaw again and yank them closer until they were almost touching. Through gritted teeth, Sanji said, “Bad dog.”

Zoro deviously smirked and playfully said, “Grabb—” but couldn’t finish, his word cut short by Sanji squeezing his face all the more. Sanji would not tolerate backtalk.

“Open your mouth.” At the request – demand – Zoro’s eyebrows furrowed with confusion, but that slight hesitation was all it took to bring back his earlier anger. “Open it.”

Surprisingly, Zoro did—though not without a great deal of caution. No matter, Sanji was victorious and his grin felt a little maniacal. 

“Good boy~”

Leaning forward, Sanji straightened himself to tower over Zoro, getting directly above him. The change in positions had Zoro’s mouth slightly closing, but Sanji put a stop to it before it had a chance to shut all the way. With a stern look and a crushing hold, Sanji was able to get his point across to not disobey.

There wasn’t a single person out there who would discipline this man – maybe Nami, but she wasn’t here – so it was up to Sanji to fill that role. And Zoro was going to pay for such rude behavior. 

Sanji swished his tongue around in his mouth to gather saliva. Zoro’s eyes tracked the movement—mind beginning to calculate. When Sanji sucked his lips together to accumulate as much fluid as he could in the dip of his tongue, he was pretty sure Zoro had caught on.

In his hand, Sanji could feel the smallest jerk from Zoro as he tried pulling back. Though, he didn’t try very hard… and that fueled Sanji all the more. Spurred him on to keep going. It was as if Zoro wasn’t sure what he wanted out of this situation. Which, it didn’t matter what his decision was because Sanji went on ahead without him. He was already opening his mouth to let the pool of thick saliva – slowly weeping with its weight – drip from his tongue to Zoro’s awaiting one.

As it fell, Sanji was sure to keep contact with those captivating eyes – sparkling with curiosity and inner turmoil – to ensure how important it was that Zoro followed through. Sanji intensely focused on the left one with those three brown speckles—vision slightly blurring as he nearly slipped into an alcohol-induced trance.

Reeling himself back in by blinking a few times, Sanji licked his lips when he was done. He loosened his grip and gave Zoro two light pats on the cheek for encouragement.

“Go on now. Swallow it.”

Almost with a fit of unadulterated confusion, Zoro obeyed. His eyes searched Sanji’s, looking back and forth between the two as if he’d find his answers there. Unsure of what to do now that he had involuntarily consumed another man’s spit, he sat there in silence, waiting for his next command.

“That was good,” Sanji whispered. “Good boy.” He then dipped down to give him a wet, congratulatory kiss. Something about the way Zoro willingly submitted under Sanji’s words stirred a hunger deep inside of him. Made the room feel warmer than it really was. His chest heaved with excitement that tingled all the way down to his groin.

Seemingly still speechless and stunned, Zoro’s eyelashes fluttered as he furiously tried blinking out of his daze. “Wha—” he smacked his lips together as if only realizing what he had participated in. “The fuck was that about?!” He sounded out of breath.

The corner of Sanji’s mouth ticked up, a salacious smile that was unable to be suppressed. “Punishment, of course.”

Zoro scoffed and knocked Sanji’s hand away to make room for himself to stand. He then raised his knee to begin climbing on the table—climbing on Sanji. He wasn't going to let Zoro have his way with him. Sanji stopped him in his tracks with a hand to the chest and gave a good shove backward. Nothing strong enough to actually push the brute away, but Zoro got the idea. Still, he demanded answers with a look of disapproval.

Sanji wagged his finger. “Ah-ah. Not yet.”

This warranted a low growl from Zoro, a warning that he was beginning to lose his patience from being denied his new chew toy.

One snap and point to the seat from Sanji was all it took for Zoro to understand who really was in charge. Grumpily, Zoro lowered himself, flexing his fists as he did so.

Santoryu's CEO, one of the richest men in the entire world – if not the richest – and he was pawing at Sanji. The club was filled with all kinds of attractive people who would be more than willing to do anything Zoro asked of them— anything at all . 

And yet… here he was. Between Sanji’s legs hanging on his every word.

Seeing the way Zoro currently bore a hole into him, his looks of want… oh, they were burning Sanji up right down to his fucking core. Zoro was putty in his hands, ready to be shaped, molded, and played with. 

“Look at you,” Sanji slurred.

Grabbing Zoro’s chin, he turned it this way and that as he dramatically looked him over—inspecting him. Tightening his grip, sinking his fingers into Zoro's skin, Sanji rode his high of being able to command such a powerful man.

“So desperate to get inside of me.”

There, just below the surface, Sanji was able to see Zoro begin to crack. He may not have spoken, but it was clear he was struggling to keep up with Sanji’s charade. While Sanji felt loose and relaxed, Zoro was wound viscously tight, it would take nothing but a light breath of air blown his way to set him off—uncoiling and springing right on top of Sanji to devour him whole.

Sanji’s breath quickened. 

He enjoyed seeing Zoro so overly feral for him, heeding every request. Pupils blown wide, sights set and locked onto his prey… even Zoro’s breathing grew heavy. Nostrils flaring and jaw clenching to hold himself back. Briefly, Sanji wondered if he looked any different from Zoro because he felt just as rabid. He was achingly hard.

Unable to help himself, Sanji leaned forward to wrap his arms over Zoro's shoulders, which went still beneath his touch. Sanji began nosing around his neck, breathing in his delicious, heady scent that only seemed to be amplified by his intoxication. Just the hint of his cedarwood cologne he began associating with him, trying its best to cover Zoro’s musk. 

But he liked that musk. 

He wanted to bathe in it. 

By rubbing against his skin, lathing his tongue from his neck to just under his ear… his natural taste couldn’t hide from Sanji. 

Another deep inhale forced a groan to fall from his lips as his eyes rolled. When Zoro’s hands grabbed over his hips, a shiver ran through Sanji's whole body. 

“Zoro…” he whispered into his ear. 

Just feeling that grip on his waist tighten at the mere mention of his name made Sanji fold over with want. He nibbled at Zoro's earlobe, softly playing with his dangling earrings on the other. 

“Zoro,” he whined again, more insistent and desperate this time.

The fingers at Sanji’s waist were like a vice. Nails from shaking hands began to dig deep into his flesh to leave their mark. Zoro carefully exhaled – slow and steady – an obvious tell that he was restraining himself from tearing Sanji apart. His breath was hot as it stuttered against Sanji’s neck.

Sanji trailed feather-light kisses down his jaw until he made it to Zoro’s awaiting lips—slotting their mouths together to allow a shared moment to feast on the other.