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The cook calls his father every Monday night, always at the same time, around 8 o’clock. Usually, Zoro would only hear him muffled through the door of the Cook’s space in their shared flat, or just catch a glimpse off the screen and a rough voice distorted through the phone on his way to his own room when he came back from the gym.
Today, though?
Zoro had been battling a massive headache the entire day and had therefore had to skip classes and his regular training sessions, because just standing up from bed took all the energy out of him. He knows he is sweating on top of it, too, his sheets feel gross and sticky, and his mouth is dry as fuck. And, of course, the water bottle he usually keeps beside his bed is empty by now, too. Zoro groans in despair, but the situation doesn’t change. Seems he has to solve this shit himself. He fights his legs off the bed, rides out the nausea that comes with sitting up and then slowly makes his way to his feet and from there to his door.
He can hear them talking now, in that flowery rapid language the cook seems to switch into whenever he is aggravated, and he would usually jump on the chance to rile him up some more, just to see the careful façade crumble. But not when Zoro already feels like shit. And, just in his head, he can accept that he would not be able to block a kick if it was thrown at him right now.
They have an open kitchen-living room combi, which means he can see the Cook twirling around the space the moment he leaves his room, and it adds dizziness to his list of symptoms. He is halfway to the fridge when he registers that the Cook and his phone have gone quiet.
Then all hell breaks loose.
“WHAT THE FUCK MOSSHEAD, WEAR SOME FUCKING CLOTHES WHEN I AM HOME!”
Zoro clenches his teeth as the screeching continues. That’s right. He hadn’t really left his bed today, and since he slept naked, and Curls had only come home half an hour ago from the library, he hadn’t bothered to get dressed. Fuck. That is embarrassing, but not something he can change now. Only solution is to get his water from the fridge and back into bed. Curls would get over it.
“Calm down, Eggplant, the boy looks like death warmed over, and it’s not like he’s got something either of us haven’t seen before,” the distorted voice from the phone speaks up, and Zoro waves his hand in silent thanks. There are always two bottles stacked in the fridge for times exactly like these. Zoro knows he tends to get tension migraines and Sanji had picked up on it, too, early on in them living together.
It had been one of the things starting their first tentative, and then quickly deepening friendship: Sanji had started storing still water in the fridge for Zoro, and Zoro brought out any bugs that forayed into their home.
He is a quarter deep into the bottle when the words from the phone register. Seen? That would imply… And it also would explain the explosiveness of the Cook’s outburst… Groaning in his mind, Zoro twists just enough that his good eye can pick up on the phone leaning against the role of paper towels on the kitchen counter. There is a face there. Fuck. The cook is video calling.
“Honestly, Marimo,” Curly’s voice pulls him out of his mind once more, “Do you need to do that here?” He moves between the phone and Zoro, and Zoro is grateful for it. Not that he would say it out loud.
“’S bad today,” he acknowledges instead, quiet and looking away from his roommate. Sanji hums sympathetically.
“You got any medication left?” Zoro shakes his head and regrets it immediately.
“Alright,” the Cook says, then he sniffs. “Get back to bed, Mosshead, if tomorrow isn’t better, I’ll see to it that you get some.”
Zoro nods his head in a sign that he has heard and turns to leave.
“So, that’s the roommate, huh, Eggplant?” he hears Sanji’s dad say through the phone.
“Yeah, he’s got tension migraines. Today seems pretty bad though, might pick up medication tomorrow. Anyway, geezer, about that dating app…,” is the last he can understand before the door to his room falls into place again and he can get back into bed and maybe sleep.
The next day is better, but he still feels like a truck has run him over.
He wakes up to the sounds of the door closing and a short conversation in the hallway, and then he is out of it again, until there is knocking at his door. It takes him a good while to understand what he just heard. Sanji usually screams through the wood, and he isn’t expecting any visitors. Zoro is just about to write it off as an auditory illusion or some shit, probably a result from his headaches, when it happens again. He twists his head towards the door and croaks for his visitor to enter.
The man who comes through his door is a stranger to Zoro, though he has to admit, he is easy enough to look at. He seems to be somewhere around his 50s, short blonde hair slicked back from his face and a fucking braided moustache. He has broad shoulders, and broad arms, and a presence that demands- not asks- for respect. It makes Zoro want to provoke just to see what the reaction would be.
“Eggplant is busy today, so I came over to bring you your meds and see to it that you’re not dead by the end of the day,” the man says, and it clears at least Zoro’s question on who exactly he is.
Only one person refers to the Cook as Eggplant.
“You’re Curly’s dad,” he rasps intelligently, trying to sit up and fighting to keep his arms from trembling.
The man raises an eyebrow and scoffs. “Not the fastest horse in the race, are you? Name’s Zeff.”
Zeff eyes him, then scans his room as if he is about to give it a ranking.
Zoro feels his shoulders rising in defence and it makes the headache return slowly.
“Get to the couch and lie down there. You need fresh air in this room and new sheets, no one gets better in this kind of environment,” the older man finally decides, and Zoro is out the door before he has registered having moved. The hum of approval behind him sends fire across his face.
Another while later, he is jostled again from sleep, when a broad hand strokes through his hair and rests across his forehead. It’s cold against his skin, so he leans into it. Blinking his eye open, he sees Sanji’s dad- Zeff- frowning above him.
“You should shower, Zucchini, you’re sweating through the couch. At least you don’t have a fever.”
“What is it with you and food nicknames?” Zoro asks, before he can think better of it.
Zeff grins, and it makes his blue eyes sparkle. Zoro drops his gaze down to a broad chest and a soft stomach. Yeah, a shower sounds pretty good right about now.
“Chef signature,” comes the answer to his question, and Zoro hums absentmindedly as he trails his gaze lower to strong thighs. “Don’t tell me you are too weak to shower on your own, Zucchini.”
He has a prosthetic leg. Zoro can see the foot and where his trousers sit baggier than they do on the other side, just below the knee.
“I’m fine,” he answers, then tries to sit up, but barely makes it halfway up before there is another broad hand on his bare back. Right. He is still naked.
“’m fine,” he reiterates and doesn’t look back until the door to the bathroom falls shut. He can absolutely not be crushing on his semi-best-friend-slash-roommate’s dad.
When he sinks into fresh sheets in a room that smells like spring air and finds a new bottle of water, with a lemon slice in it next to his bed though, he knows he is only lying to himself.
“I knew it, I fucking knew it!” Curly is pacing the kitchen a few days later, seemingly trying to pull out his own hair. “I should have said no when he asked, I mean I know you have a thing for DILFs, why would my dad be different?”
Zoro slurps his beer pointedly. “Not my fault your dad’s hot. He into guys now or what?”
“ARRRGHGH,” with a loud, frustrated scream, Sanji turns around and storms into his room. Not giving an answer, which is disappointing. Though, if Zoro has no chance, there is no way that Sanji would be this fucked up about it.
“Don’t worry, Cook, you wouldn’t even hafta call me daddy!” he screams at Sanji’s room and snickers at the sputters and the loud thoud of something hitting the door.
“I cannot believe I am doing this,” Sanji says another few weeks later, two glasses of wine into their movie night as he hands Zoro a scrap of paper. “Do NOT make me regret this, Marimo.”
Zoro takes another sip from his fourth bottle of beer and looks at the string of numbers on the paper. He raises an eyebrow and then looks back up at his roommate.
“I mean it, Zoro, leave me out of this.” They’re on name basis now, that alone makes this obviously serious. But the fact that Curly has just given him his dad’s number would have been enough for Zoro to come to the same realization. He is an asshole, but not that much of one.
He grunts his understanding and empties his beer bottle. Then he gets up to get another one and safe the number into his phone.
It takes a while to come up with what he wants to write, but in the end, he lands on: “So, do you let Curly give your number to all of his friends, or just the ones you have seen naked before?”
Not his best work, but the tone is pretty on point, so he decides, fuck it, and hits sent.
-“This Zucchini, then?” comes the answer a while later, and Zoro decides to be a brat, go all in, and send back a selfie- shirtless, on his bed, lying on his front with the blanket just barely high enough to cover his ass.
“Who else of your son’s friends have you seen naked before, old man?” He teases and this time it takes a longer time for the answer to come through.
-“You really don’t hold back, do you?” Zeff answers and Zoro’s grin is so wide, he can feel it pulling at the corners of his mouth.
“Why would I? I fuck DILFs, because they’re more straight forward in what they want. Why then be the one to complicate shit?”
-“DILFs, hm? Do you need someone to teach you manners and tell you when you have been a good boy then, brat?” The answer is slow, but Zoro can feel the burning of arousal low in his gut at the words. He bites down on his lip. If that’s how Zeff wants to play, he is all for it.
“Can you even handle me, old man?” he writes back, this time with a picture of his front, cut from under his chin to just above his slowly stirring erection. He takes the time to pluck at his nipples enough that they are swollen and red though.
This time, when the next text comes through after half an eternity of waiting, it’s from the Cook.
“STOP FUCKING SEXTING MY DAD AT WORK, MOSSHEAD!” it reads, and Zoro supposes that’s fair.
“Why you looking at his screen, Shit Cook?” he replies anyway, and then sets his phone to the side to rummage through his night stand for the bottle of lube and his favourite vibe.
When he is freshly showered and dressed, after two fantastic orgasms, and is on his way to the kitchen to raid their fridge for the leftovers Sanji is sure to have stored away there, he checks his phone again.
There is a new message from Zeff, it’s an address and a time for this evening.
Zeff lives above the restaurant he owns, and Sanji works at parttime. Zoro should have expected that, thinks that Sanji had even mentioned it before, but he is surprised, nonetheless. The floor of Baratie still seems pretty busy, if the view through the big windows at the front is anything to go by. There is an obvious staircase on the right side of the building though, and the Uber Zoro had called -to make sure he didn’t get turned around in the ever-moving streets of the city- had parked there, too. He checks his phone to see that he is right on time, and then climbs the stairs two at a time. His skin is already tingling in anticipation and a base layer of arousal hasn’t left him ever since that teasing text had come through.
There is a strange looking name on the doorbell, and it fits the fancy language Zeff and Sanji speak, so he has to be at the right door. He knocks.
There are uneven steps behind the door, then the door is opened and Zeff is looking at him, an unmoving expression on his face. He looks Zoro up and down, before holding the door open and beckoning him in. Zoro smirks as he catches the older man looking at his ass when he bends over to pull off his boots.
“Can’t even lace up your own shoes, Zucchini? That is a low bar to miss,” the blonde says, already on his way deeper into the space. Zoro smirks at his retreating back. He knows where the Cook gets his dry humour from.
“Just do that to annoy old folks like you,” he throws back, but follows after Zeff. The flat is pretty much open concept, close to what he and Sanji have going on at home, just that there are only two doors leading from the living room and open kitchen to other rooms. There is a large, sturdy oak table with six chairs around it in the middle of the room, an old, cozy looking couch and a TV on the side, and a fluffy rug in between the two. Zoro can see himself spread out on it.
“Left door is the bathroom,” Zeff says from the kitchen, and Zoro nods.
“And the right is your bedroom then?” he asks, just to be annoying.
“No, it’s the door to Narnia,” comes the dry reply, “Sit down at the table, boy.”
There are two sets of cutlery on the table, along with wine glasses. Zoro scratches at his neck, he didn’t expect there to be dinner. Or anything besides fucking, to be honest, but he hasn’t really eaten since lunch, and wine does sound nice. Even if they throw a bit of a wrench in his plan.
“Can I help you with anything?” he offers. Just because he doesn’t use them often doesn’t mean he doesn’t have manners.
Zeff stops rummaging in the kitchen for a moment, as if surprised, then he snorts.
“Just stay seated, boy. But thank you for asking,” he insists.
Zoro sits down carefully. He doesn’t have to wait long until Zeff carries over two plates, a wine bottle under his arm. Whatever he made smells delicious, and Zoro tries to relax; he is not usually this unsure around his hook ups. Maybe it’s the family photos on the wall, the ones in which he knows both faces.
Zeff says nothing as he places the plate in front of Zoro and his own seat- it’s a salad with deliciously looking white meat on top and some other grilled greens- or when he sits down and pours wine for the both of them. He waits, until they have both taken a sip- in Zoro’s case a gulp- and Zoro has taken a bite of his food. Then he finally opens his mouth.
“What exactly do you expect from this, Zucchini?”
Zoro raises his head from where he was focused on the food to look back at the man in front of him.
“Do you expect this to be a quick fuck for today, or a continued on physical thing? Surely you are not looking to date this far out of your own age range, boy?” Zeff continues, face unmoving, as if this doesn’t concern him, as if he has total control. Zoro clenches his thighs.
“Why wouldn’t I?” he asks back, because not only is that guess about his dating habits incorrect, the question also lets him observe the older man a little longer, try to find cracks in his pokerface to give away his position on the question. Zeff does seem surprised by it but shakes his head.
“You have a habit of asking questions back instead of giving straight answers. What happened to not wanting to complicate things?” The older man calls him out, and Zoro smirks and leans forward, pressing his biceps into his chest to pronounce his pecks.
“Where would be the fun in that?” There is a short uptick in the corner of Zeff’s mouth, then it is gone in a scowl. Sadly, he still has a point. “I am not opposed to trying this as a dating scenario. For right now, though, I would like to suck your cock and then for you to fuck me hard and long enough I forget my name.”
Zeff sputters around his wine, and Zoro takes it as a win. When he places the glass back down, the older man clears his throat.
“And here I was thinking you were only that forward over text. Well, alright then,” he murmurs, and Zoro is about to stand up to make good on his promise, when Zeff gestures for him to stay seated. “After we eat, brat, this food is not going to waste.”
Zoro rolls his eye but digs into his food.
“Is there anything you will not do, at all? Any boundaries I need to be aware off?”
Zoro thinks on this for a moment, before shaking his head. “No piss or fecal play, and I am not into calling anyone Daddy. I don’t do scenes until I know my partner for a while, and we have a discussion beforehand. Apart from that, light bondage, holding me down or handcuffs are fine, as is light pain. Everything else would need to be discussed before,” he shrugs, and notes with content that Zeff is eying him hungry but calculating now.
“You do know what you want,” Zeff concedes. Zoro shrugs again.
“This is not my first rodeo. Surprised Curly didn’t mention that to you.”
“He did. We wouldn’t be here otherwise. Speaking of Sanji though,” the other’s eye are burning into Zoro’s as he continues, “The moment he so much as breathes that he doesn’t like it, this is off. I am not sabotaging my relationship with my son over anyone. Understood?”
Zoro snorts, but nods. “He’s not thrilled about it, but he is a grown fucking adult, he will say it if it bothers him too much.” Zeff scoffs back at him and crosses his arms over his chest.
“You clearly don’t know my son, then. He will take it to his grave and act all brave about it if he thinks it will hurt me or you if he suffers from this.”
“That would be right with anyone else but me,” Zoro concedes, but presses on, secure in his friendship with the man they are talking about, “We don’t do coddling, our friendship doesn’t work that way. He has made his boundaries clear; I respect them. He knows that. I trust him to act on them, if necessary.”
Zeff takes the statement in, before he closes his eyes and nods. He stands, collecting the plates and bringing them to the sink.
“Alright then, brat. Take the shirt off and get on your knees in front of the couch. Let’s see how good you are at keeping your word.”
Zoro scrambles to his feet, already pulling his t-shirt off, but taking the time to hang it over his chair. Then he does as he was told. The carpet is soft under his knees.
“Aren’t you suddenly good at behaving?” Zeff’s voice sends shivers up his spine and then there is a hand in his hair, gently pulling his face up to look at the other man. Zeff sits down on the couch in front of Zoro and guides him in between his spread legs. Then he leans down, and his hand grabs Zoro’s nape and they are kissing. It’s chaste, for the position they are in, and Zeff is sure to keep it that way, dangling the promise of what he wants right in front of Zoro’s eye.
When they part, Zoro’s hands are on Zeff’s thighs, and he can feel his own dick rub against the zipper of his pants with every minute shift of his hips. He moans, and it makes Zeff chuckle above him.
“Good boy, already so hungry for me. Open your mouth, pretty boy,” the compliments send Zoro spiral higher, and even higher when he sees the other opening his own jeans, and then pulling his dick out. It’s not yet fully hard, Zoro is pleased to see, but the start is there. And he can tell it will be pretty thick and long when it is at full mast. One of the hands dives back into his green hair and Zoro moans again, diving forward at the hint of a pull, sucking the cockhead into his mouth. It's smooth on his tongue, and warm, and Zeff moans above him, so he sucks hard, once, then fists his hand at the base and starts to lick along the length. Once he deems it hard and wet enough, he dives right back for the tip and starts bobbing his head. He pulls out all the tricks he knows, swirling his tongue along the vein on the underside and flicking it across the underside of the head. He cannot keep in his moans already, but by the constant groans above him and the tightening of fingers in his hair, he is doing a good job.
“You’re doing so good, boy, so good,” Zeff rumbles above him and he keens, and sucks harder and ruts his hips in the air, in search for more friction than his own jeans can provide him. “You need more, boy? Need something between your legs?”
Zoro tries to nod desperately, but he also doesn’t want to let go of the cock in his mouth, so he whines instead. Then there is movement and a foot on the front of his jeans and he moans around the cock in his mouth, loud enough that he is half convinced the dining room floor beneath them can hear. He places one hand at the ankle, keeping the foot in place as he redoubles his efforts with his mouth while also frantically thrusting his hips. The pleasure spikes, and just before he is about to tip over, the hand in his hair pulls him back and the leg breaks his hold on the foot. Panting he looks up at Zeff, who has opened his shirt, revealing a healthy layer of fat above a muscular and hairy chest, and who looks at him with a mixture of hunger and affection. It makes Zoro whimper at his feet.
“Why’d you stop?” he asks in an annoyed daze.
“Wouldn’t want you to come just yet, brat. You wanna be a good boy for me, right? Let’s move this to the bedroom,” the older man says, stroking his hand affectionately through Zoro’s cropped hair, before he stands to loom over him. “Do you need a hand up, pretty boy?”
Flustered, Zoro climbs to his feet on his own, shaking his head. He is so hard, and there is blood rushing through his ears, he feels like he cannot hear a thing. Zeff smiles at him knowingly, and cups him through his jeans, feather light touch just enough to tease. Then he turns and walks towards one of the doors, pulling off his button down on the way. Zoro stumbles after him.
The bedroom is sparse, there is a double bed and a bedside table, and that is about all that Zoro can focus on at the moment. Zeff is sitting at the edge of the bed, his jeans around his thighs, and he beckons Zoro over the moment he sees him.
“Help me get these off, boy,” he demands, and Zoro is on his knees, helping to pull the trousers down farther.
He still quips “What, can’t even undress anymore, old man?”
Zeff snorts, but once the jeans are off, he grabs for the socket of the prosthetic leg and pulls it off with a huff, the liner follows suit. There is a slight sigh, as Zeff begins to rub the scaring of the area and Zoro surfaces from his daze long enough to observe him. When Zeff locks eyes with him again, there is a tight smile on his face- it clashes with his laugh lines.
“Are you sure you want to continue with a cripple, kid?” he asks, and Zoro will not have that.
He leans forward and kisses the scarred portion of his leg, then drags his lips and tongue along them, upwards on the inside of Zeff’s leg, nipping at the skin. Zeff moans above him.
“Wanna see how sure, old man?” he asks, self-assured and slow in his movements as he raises to his feet, finding Zeff’s hands and placing them on the waistband of his jeans. Zeff opens them for him, then trails his hands along his hipbones, and Zoro steps closer to give him the room to grab at his tits. The rough hands feel good on his abs, but the moment they squeeze his pecs, he lets his head fall back and gives a long moan when they pull at his nipples.
“You have cute nipples,” Zeff says, and Zoro laughs breathlessly.
“Sure. Lay back, old man, let me do the work.”
Zoro steps back from the reach of those hand, and waits until Zeff is situated, before he turns around and bends over while he pulls down his jeans and boxers in one go. He wouldn’t bother, usually, but today, he needed the extra layer for security. He hears the sharp intake of breath behind him and smirks. He had chosen well today.
“You had that in the entire time, brat?” is the strangled ask, and Zoro stays bend over, trails his hands up his thighs and spreads his ass cheeks. He fingers around the plug nestled there, relishing in the texture of the green stone embedded at its base.
“Why, would that change anything?” he asks, just to be a little shit. Then he rights himself and turns back around, smirking. Zeff is looking at him, eyes wide and blown out, mouth slightly agape, and his hands are buried in the blanket. Zoro decides to spare him, and crawls onto the bed, and over the man on it. Zeff’s hands fly to his ass as soon as it is in reach and resume the treatment Zoro had given them before.
“You are naughty, boy, I underestimated you,” the older man concedes. His finger massages the stone, and Zoro lets out a breathy moan. “Couldn’t wait for me to get you ready?”
He moans louder and shakes his head. “Was already two orgasms in when I saw your text, decided not to let the prep go to waste.”
He arches back into the massage and ignores Zeff’s chuckle under him.
“That so?” the blonde teases, then he nods at the bedside drawer. “Get me a condom from there, then, if you are in such a hurry.”
Zoro nods his head, then stretches across the man underneath him to grab for the drawer when he realises the hands won’t stray from his hips. He gets it open, just as lips attach to his nipple and suck, then teeth follow to scrape across it. Zoro moans and trembles. He pauses with one hand in the drawer to focus on not cumming in that moment.
“You are an evil old man,” he groans as he gets his wit back, and when he leans back, it is with a handful of little foils and a small bottle. Zeff raises an eyebrow at him.
“You plan to go through the weekend?”
Zoro laughs again. “This too much for your stamina, old man?”
“I’ll show you too much stamina,” Zeff grumbles underneath him, and in a truly impressive flex of muscles, Zoro finds himself on his back, with three fingers instead of his plug thrusting in and out of him at full speed.
“Haaaaaahhhhhh- oh god, yes!” He throws his head back and moves his hips to meet the thrusts.
“Maybe I should not fuck you, after all that loud mouthing bullshit you pulled off tonight,” Zeff threatens and Zoro keens under him when he bites into one of his nipples.
“You wouldn’t…,” Zoro trails off, when the fingers find his prostate and focus on hitting it dead on in short, but hard thrusts, bringing him closer and closer to completion.
“Oh, I would,” Zeff ensures him, sucking on his other nipple and biting down, just as the pleasure gets too much and Zoro realizes too late what that means, and…
“HAAAAAhh!!” He is coming untouched, three fingers in his ass, head thrown back in ecstasy, arching off the bed. Zeff milks him through it, only pulling out his fingers when Zoro’s moans have gone down to whimpers.
Zoro throws an arm across his face, embarrassment boiling along with the lingering grip of arousal.
“What happened to you doing all the work?” Zeff chuckles above him. He has his hand on his own cock, now fully hard, thick and long, and he strokes it carelessly, barely applying pressure. Zoro licks his lips.
“Still intent to do that, old man. You just got impatient,” he snaps back, sitting up and shoving the blond back into the pillows. He kneels over him, grabs one condom package and tears the foil open with his teeth, only stopping, when he has the rubber rolled on, and a lubed hand around it. Then, he looks up at Zeff, positioning himself and nudging the head on his entrance.
“When we do this a little longer, I want your come in me,” Zoro says as he sinks down, enjoying the way Zeff’s hands clench down on his thighs. “I want you to stuff me full of it, until you are done, and then I want you to plug me up with it still in me until we get around to you fucking it out of me again.”
Zeff huffs in disbelieve. “You are greedy, boy, has someone told you that before?”
He pulls down Zoro’s hips until they are flush, and Zoro throws back his head in a mixture of too much and not enough.
“You need to be good for me to keep you, boy, think you can manage that?”
Zoro starts bouncing and the too much abruptly fades. He needs more, he needs so much more.
“Yeah, yes, I will be, I will be so good, so good for you, sir, I promise,” he sobs out, hands on Zeff’s chest to keep himself steady. The hands at his hips slide up again, to play with his nipples and Zoro keens and whines, tears threatening to form in his eyes. It’s so good, every thrust perfectly hitting his prostate, and he knows he won’t be able to last long. Once he is in the mood, it takes a few orgasms to get him out of it again, and they are usually fast and hard.
“I’m close, Zeff, I’m so close. Am I good for you?” he babbles looking down to see the man grinding his teeth, but his eyes are soft.
“You are so good for me, baby, so good,” is the reply and Zoro pries one hand from Zeff’s chest to fist his own cock under the older man’s watchful gaze. “You wanna come, baby boy? Go ahead, come for me.”
This time, Zoro sobs and sags forward when the orgasm curses through him. When he opens his eyes, Zeff is still moving in him, and there is white painted over the soft belly underneath him. Zoro moans softly, then hiccups and whines when the moving gets too much again.
“Aww, is it too much for my baby boy?” Zeff taunts and Zoro shakes his head out of pure stubbornness.
“Well then, get off, baby, and on all fours,” Zeff orders and Zoro clambers off him. He is a good boy, so he does as he was asked to.
“Good boy,” Zeff soothes as he positions himself behind Zoro. There is a heavy hand between his shoulder blades, pushing him down while the one at his hips is pulling him up, and the pose is so humiliating but it sends new waves of arousal through him, “So good for me, taught you some manners after all, didn’t I?”
Zoro nods into the pillow beneath his head, and keens when he feels the hot head of Zeff’s dick at his entrance again. He feels swollen there; he must be so red.
“Look at you, baby boy, all lewd and wet for me. Wanna take my cock, baby boy?”
Zoro nods again, he feels tears and saliva trailing down his face.
“Say it, boy, tell me what you want,” Zeff demands, the hands on him clenching down.
“I- I want your cock in me, sir,” Zoro slurs back, gone in pleasure and the moment.
Zeff pats his hip, then he slides in and starts a fast, brutal pace.
“I won’t last long, baby boy, but you won’t either, will you now? We’ll have to see about that stamina of yours,” the older man promises, and then he slides his hand from his hip around to grab Zoro’s cock and starts getting him off in the rhythm of his thrusts.
Zoro can’t do anything but writhe beneath him, moans after moans and long whines falling from his lips. He has his hands buried in the bedsheet and his face in the pillow, and this time, he can feel the coil of his orgasm from the moment Zeff slides home. Every trust gets it to tighten. The release is explosive, he screams into the pillow, his entire body clamps up and continues to shake and clamp for what feels like an eternity. He barely registers anything except for the fading pleasure and a bone deep exhaustion taking its place.
When he comes back to himself, he is on his side, his head nestled into a hairy, muscular chest and the smell of pipe tabaco is in the air around him. Lazily, he tilts his head back at the man he is lying on. Zeff looks down at him, a small pipe between his lips, sweaty hair slicked back, and that affection in his eyes. Zoro pulls himself tighter to him.
“Hi,” he croaks, then clears his throat and tries again, “Hi.”
“Hey,” Zeff replies, amusement clear in the tone of his voice.
They look at each other for a long while, then Zeff sighs.
“Did you have enough now? Got this silly infatuation out of your system?”
Zoro grins back with all the bratty energy he can muster.
“Oh, hell no, that was great. You’re not gonna get rid of me now.”