Chapter Text
Sanji isn't an insecure man. He's comfortable with his sexuality.
He is, okay?
Sanji is 100% straight. He loves the soft curves of a woman's silhouette; Loves the way their breasts billow and jiggle when they walk; Loves the soft feeling of their perfect, sweet-smelling skin, and absolutely loves their long, gorgeous legs. Legs that he could run the tip of his tongue up, until they part deliciously, and what's between those legs, is something he loves the most.
Sanji is 100% straight.
Except when he lets Zoro fuck him.
Sanji couldn't describe how it all started, this back-and-forth thing that's developed between him and the swordsman. He remembers the before. Snide comments that ignited into brutal dick-measuring contests. Kicks to the swordsman's stupid, annoying face, and dodging the long end of 3 blades coming at him with impossible speed.
He remembers when it was just fire between them; A clashing of unyielding personalities and nothing more. Or maybe it's always been more, and Sanji was just really good at lying to himself.
Sanji couldn't pinpoint the moment when animosity was replaced with concern, annoyance with admiration. When death is constantly around the corner, and life is no longer guaranteed, Sanji supposes it's only natural for childish emotions to be replaced with louder needs.
It happened slowly, he can say for sure. Slowly at first, and then all at once.
Looking back, Sanji can see that this was always the natural extension of things. That anger, and rivalry, and dominance only have so many outlets. And when you factor in the bloodthirsty need for conquest and to win, all wrapped up in short fuses and the gnashing of teeth, it all seems so inevitable.
Perhaps that's why it felt so natural when Zoro had forced Sanji up against the kitchen wall, slamming him down with the ferocity of a bull crushing a person to dust with its body weight. When the swordsman's body surrounded him, it was all too familiar. A play they had seen many times before, only the ending was different this time: Zoro's lips meeting his with a cut-off grunt, his conniving mouth parting obscenely to slip his slick tongue between Sanji's lips, the swordsman swallowing down the sound of shock the cook had tried to make. Sanji swears his mind had tried to stop it, if only for a solid millisecond of confusion and anger cresting into something hot in his veins.
But his body answered the call: It was a blur of spite, and fury and hunger, crescendoing into a white-hot pleasure; The likes of which the two of them had never known before.
When it was over, Sanji tried to put his clothes back on and spit his venom at Zoro. Tried to feign that he was disgusted, and regretful, and that it definitely wasn't going to happen again. But his poker face never did quite work on Zoro, did it? The stupid, goddamn swordsman could see through Sanji like he was wet paper. The mosshead had grinned at him with the most cocksure attitude, not meeting Sanji's anger with the normal back-and-forth. Zoro knew that things could never go back to the way they were (and he was unabashedly thrilled at that fact). And although it took more convincing on the cook's part, the next time the mosshead had shamelessly tried to taste him again, deep down Sanji knew it too.
Sanji could yell, and deny, and fight all he wanted; Zoro can read his body better than anyone. And when he pressed his mouth to Sanji's for the second time, the cook eventually gave way, letting himself melt into the mass of muscle, and passion, and fire that threatened to swallow him whole. And when Zoro sheathed his cock inside of him for the second time, Sanji couldn't pretend anymore.
Well, he could pretend. Sanji could pretend that this thing between them was purely a physical outlet for all of their testosterone and animosity. He could pretend that it was something occasional, something casual. Something the both of them could easily and happily live without; That it was about convenience, if anything. And inevitably, when they both found better prospects, it would be dropped unquestionably, words not even need be exchanged.
But of course the universe will call his bluff every time Sanji thinks he can lie to himself.
This time it was when the Straw hats had journeyed to a red-light district of sorts, in a country that Sanji didn't even remember the name of. A year ago, when they needed reconnaissance for some stupid reason or another. Sanji had agreed to disguise himself as a male courtesan; To tempt some big-shot bad guy they were trying to get the drop on. But before the Straw hats had even gotten to the actual target of their journey, Sanji had caught the eye of a 40-something year old man, who was clearly looking for some company.
The man (who actually wasn't the worst looking) had stopped the cook in his tracks. He had grabbed his arm in a too-friendly way, making eyes at Sanji who was dolled up to the nine's; Soft blush on his cheekbones, gorgeous kimono flowing in the wind. The man had ran a gentle hand down his arm, asking Sanji how much for the pleasure of his company. Before the cook could even react to his advances, Zoro had driven the tip of his sword deeply into the man's shoulder. The swordsman's face was pulled back in a snarl, a deafening growl on his lips. It was as clear a warning sign as any, to stay away from what's his.
Later that same night, Zoro speared Sanji open with a different sword. His screams of anguish had echoed throughout the wooden halls of the ship, the same warning spelled out in them.
Sanji is 100% straight.
Except when he lets Zoro fuck him, and Zoro is relentless.
Tonight, Sanji is laid out for the bigger man, stark naked and ass up against the pale blue sheets of the cook's bed. When Zoro came to his room earlier with a throbbing erection and a punishing grip, Sanji let him in. Even while taking his 10-inch cock deep inside, begging and panting and crying; The stupid swordsman will stoke the fire in him, taunting him to no end.
"Oh yeah, you sure are straight, cook. You sure don't like being fucked around like a bitch in heat."
One of Zoro's massive hands slaps down hard on Sanji's bare ass cheek, and his body betrays him with a pathetic answering whimper, flinching with humiliation. Zoro has Sanji's hands held crossed behind his back. They act as a nice steadying surface for the swordsman as he shoves his cock inside of the cook's tight, pink hole: Dominating him like an animal.
"Unnnnhhh... S-Shut up! I told you stupid Marimo, I... I'm fucking straight... This is just a lay... doesn't fucking mean anything... Besides, if I didn't do this, you'd be fucking insatiable. It's easier to just give you what you want."
Zoro lets out a throaty laugh. His thrusts slow down, but the strength behind them doesn't relent. He fucks him nice and slow and hard, savoring that Sanji will keep himself in this pliant position until he’s done with him.
"You sure know how to lie to yourself, Sanji... Would it be that bad? To admit to yourself what a little, fucking bitch you are. That you love squirming around on the cocks of bigger, stronger men. You sure have me fooled... you play the role perfectly."
Sanji growls at the insolent words. He thrashes slightly, fighting halfheartedly as Zoro applies the smallest amount of pressure to keep him in his place. An amused chuckle slips out of the mosshead's mouth.
"Fuck you. You're the bitch, meathead. You're obsessed with fucking me. I can barely keep your filthy hands and mouth off of me. There's nothing you want more in this world than to shove your prick down my throat or up my ass, you're fucking shameless about it."
A gravelly, rumbling warning noise leaves Zoro's lips, making every hair on Sanji's naked body stand on end. The cook cries out in fear as the dick that's been splitting him open is dragged out of his abused hole, and lube leaks out of him in the process. Two rough hands flip him over violently and stark, gray eyes, colder than the steel of his razor-sharp blades, are locked onto Sanji. Zoro's expression is pulled into the snarl that makes Sanji's neglected cock leak precum all over his stomach.
Without a single word spoken, the swordsman bends the cook in half. He hooks the blonde’s long legs up onto his thick, corded shoulders so that he can penetrate Sanji as deeply as humanly possible. Zoro's glare bores into the cook's sea-blue eyes as his thick, blunt cockhead breaches his tight asshole. Sanji's mouth falls open in horror, twitching as uselessly as his untouched dick.
"When I'm deep inside of you like this, keep your fucking mouth shut. Unless I tell you to speak. I own this pussy when I fuck you, do you understand?"
The deep growl of the swordsman’s voice sends goosebumps all over Sanji's body. "F-Fuck." The cook can't deny how much blood pumped into his begging erection at that statement. He would never say it out loud, never give Zoro the fucking satisfaction, but some primal part of Sanji loves being used like this.
"Y-Yes..."
Zoro pumps his hips hard so that each syllable is punctuated. He speaks slowly, "Yes, what?"
Sanji moans, tightening around that big prick inside of him, his walls feeling it's shape out. He swallows hard, knowing what Zoro is making him do, and resigns himself to the humiliation.
"Yes, sir."
Zoro lets out a haughty, mean chuckle. "Tell me how much you like it, cook... How much you love having another man inside of you. Using you. Rearranging your fucking guts."
Zoro fucks him slower, deeper, harder. His hand coming down to cup the protrusion of his cock in Sanji's smooth abdomen. He loves seeing how much the cook's body has to accommodate around him. How noticeable and undeniable the penetration is.
The thick head of the swordsman’s massive cock is punching the spot behind Sanji's ballsack that's making his eyes roll back in his head. He feels a string of drool dribble down the corner of his mouth, and he doesn't care. With Zoro fucking him stupid all he can do is try to form words that will please the swordsman. It takes all the effort in the world, but Sanji focuses his tear-blurred eyes on the severe face in front of him.
"Ahhhhhhmmmm... I... I love it... unnnnhhhhhh… I love it... Z-Zoro... please..."
"Yeah, you fucking do. Who owns this pussy?"
"Y-You do... unnnhhhhh"
Zoro slows his thrusts, giving Sanji's pulsing prostate a break from the brutal pace. The cook's ass is sucking him in so tightly, he’ll surely burst if Zoro keeps going. The swordsman presses closer, licking at the seam of the kiss-bitten, pink lips in front of him. Sanji groans and opens up wide for him. He really is so good and pretty for Zoro... When the mosshead slips his hot tongue in, the blonde sucks it down eagerly, making Zoro's cock pulse. It's laughable how goddamn needy the cook is for him, especially while trying to keep up the pretense that he's "straight". When Zoro pulls back, a string of saliva connects the two men and Sanji lets out a whimper seeing the evidence of their encounter. The swordsman licks his lips chasing the lingering taste of the cook. He gets up close to Sanji's ear to whisper inside.
"Are you sure you're straight love cook? I mean... you can't seem to get enough of me... of my mouth... my tongue. My fingers... my cock… If I wanted to, I could probably make you get on your knees right now… in front of the entire crew. I could make you beg for it, like a fucking dog... and you would do it, wouldn't you, Sanji?"
Sanji's eyes are watery red, his pupils beautifully blown. It takes a moment for his fucked-out brain to register the words, but when he does, he nods unquestionably.
"Yes, sir."
Another mean laugh pours out of Zoro. Sanji is the most beautiful to him when he's like this, when the pretenses drop, and he allows himself to be honest. "Heh... what a good boy... It's a damn tempting idea... To make sure the crew knows who holds your fucking leash." The moss-haired man starts building up the power behind his thrusts again, needing to fuck him raw in his own bed, needing Sanji to come fully encapsulated by him: His smell, his body, his taste, his voice.
"I don't give a fuck if you want to get your dick wet now and again, as long as you're clean about it... Fuck any pussy that you want, make em' cream on that useless fucking cock for all I care." Zoro penetrates him to the hilt as he looks deep into Sanji's eyes, which have started to spill tears from the punishing rhythm. "But don't you ever forget that when you get on this ship, this is where you fucking belong. Don't you ever forget that my dick balls-deep inside your asshole is your fucking home."
The wails of the Frenchman fill his own bedroom as he comes wrapped around Zoro’s cock. His whole-body shudders as Sanji spills his seed onto his stomach, painting himself in white as his cock spurts over and over. Zoro can feel him clench around his dick as the cook ejaculates, and he generously stays still while Sanji comes down from the high of his intense orgasm. The blonde looks so goddam pretty underneath him; Teary eyed and panting like a dog, legs shaking as they threaten to give. When Sanji’s body gets stiller, and eyes bluer than the ocean look up at Zoro, that’s when the swordsman’s patience wears off.
He fucks him like an animal, not bothering to build back up to it, or give the cook’s body time to adjust to the brutal pace. Zoro wants what belongs to him, and he has no qualms about taking it. The swordsman chuckles as he remembers one of the first times they fucked.
He had Sanji pinned to the floor of the kitchen, with one of his massive hands clamped around his mouth so that the others wouldn’t hear the pathetic, whiny noises of the cook taking it. Zoro had pulled his fat cock out and was ready to plunge it into the depths of his rival. But before he could, Sanji had shrugged the big hand off of his mouth and asked Zoro if he would use protection. The swordsman had looked at him incredulously and asked why the fuck he would do that.
“So I don’t have to walk around all day with your load spilling out of me, dumbass!” The blonde had scream-whispered angrily. Zoro remembers how hot his blood had felt in his veins at the insistence, at the very idea. He remembers the stupid look of shock on the cook’s face when he shoved himself inside unceremoniously, digging his nails into the soft skin of Sanji’s hips as he claimed him on the ground.
“You better listen up good, shitty cook. This belongs to me. I fucking own this. It’s my goddamn property and I’ll come inside of it as many fucking times as I want to. You’re gonna take it like a good, little bitch, because there’s nothing you can do to stop me. Nothing is going to get between my cock and your fucking asshole, understand?”
It had felt so fucking good when the cook moaned in response. Zoro had to quickly clamp his hand back around Sanji’s mouth because his noises were so shamelessly loud and wanton at the swordsman’s claim. And the cook came like a fucking geyser on the floor underneath him, learning that he loved the ruthless way Zoro used him. And learning to love the way Zoro’s spend feels leaking out of him as he cooks the crew their meals.
The memories make the mosshead snap his hips faster. He feels his balls tightening as he gets closer to coming inside of Sanji. He’s fucking him so goddamn hard that the bed frame is slamming noisily against the floor, and the cook is frantic underneath him as he hits that sensitive spot inside of him over and over. He needs to fucking come inside, needs to claim what fucking belongs to him in Sanji’s room, in his bed. Needs the cook to know that Zoro will never fucking loosen the grip he has on him, and no one else can fucking have this. He’d ruin Sanji before he’d let another person have a taste of this.
Tears are streaming down the blonde’s reddened cheeks and he’s whining and digging his nails so hard into Zoro’s traps that the swordsman feels blood trickling down. Sanji’s trying to say something, but each violent thrust causes him to stutter out pathetically. Finally, he is able to get the syllable out.
“P… Please.”
Zoro groans as he buries his face into the crook of Sanji’s sweaty neck. His teeth find purchase immediately on the soft skin, and he bites down sharply as he plunges in as far as he can. Thick, hot ropes of come pulse out of Zoro’s engorged cock and fill Sanji up in waves. With every load, Zoro continues to thrust forward, needing to get his seed as far up the cook as possible. Some primal part of the swordsman wants badly to impregnate the cook, and logically he knows it’s not possible, but he doesn’t care.
After several long moments of mindless bliss, his hips finally stutter, and Zoro’s body goes limp. His hands, however, stay clamped onto Sanji, and the two fall asleep still attached.
The next day, when the swordsman slips into the kitchen and asks a bruised, sore Sanji if he still thinks he’s 100% straight, he has to dodge a full bottle of wine thrown at his dumb, grinning face.