Archive of Our Own ^beta

“You know,” Sanji said, poking his head into the crow’s nest. “You shouldn't be drinking on night watch.”

Zoro looked up from his weights to meet his gaze. “Have you ever seen alcohol get in the way of my fighting before?”

“Well, no,” he muttered, climbing through the latch with a tray in one hand and a bottle tucked under his arm. “Still, what if something happens and you're too busy chugging sake to see it coming?” He kicked the latch closed behind him.

“Stop being so uptight,” Zoro said, standing. “Why don't you have one with me and see for yourself?”

“Hah?” Sanji froze, wide eyes flickering to Zoro before turning his head away, hiding behind his bangs. 

“Come on.” Zoro grabbed the tray with post-workout snacks, a smile tugging at his lips as warm fingers lingered against Sanji’s hand.

Sanji couldn’t move. Could barely breathe. 

Like an invisible pull, he followed Zoro to the couch. His gaze followed rough hands as they poured a glass for Sanji. He didn’t even realize he was reaching for it until his fingers brushed Zoro’s again. Making him shiver, and not because of the cold glass. But the touch, the warmth, the feeling of another human being. The feeling of Zoro.

Zoro brought the whole bottle to his lips, tipping it back.

Sanji watched an escaped droplet fall, his throat tightening.

Well, maybe not so much a human being as an alcoholic brute.

Sanji took a careful sip from his own glass, feeling the burn of the alcohol as it traveled down his throat.

“See?” Zoro said, nodding toward the window as if proving a point. “Nothing to worry about.”

The sea was calm, barely any wind rattling the windows, even Nami had said it was highly unlikely they would encounter any other ships in this still weather. The ocean looked almost lonely out there in the dark. Not even the moon kept it company, and the stars were light years away. Sanji could sympathize with that.

“Fine,” Sanji huffed. “But don't make it a habit,” he added, kicking his shin.

A smirk spread across Zoro’s lips, as if he had just won something. “Or what? You'll kick me?”

Sanji did, harder this time.

“Couldn't even feel it,” Zoro chuckled, sinking further into his seat, shoulders relaxing as he took another swig from his bottle.

But Sanji…Sanji felt everything. Every centimeter between them, every ghost of touch still lingering on his skin. And he couldn’t bear the distance. Just like a star, Zoro felt light years away.

So he put even more force behind his next attack, aiming for his thigh this time. 

“Feeling this?”

Zoro barely flinched, instead leaning further into Sanji’s space, like he wanted to be kicked.

“Nope,” he popped the P, and Sanji felt the familiar anger spark.

He surged forward, pressing their foreheads together, like so many times before. The sweaty heat of Zoro’s skin grounded him, warm and familiar against his own. Comforting even. But not nearly enough.

“Shitty marimo,” he cursed through gritted teeth.

“Idiot cook,” Zoro taunted back, not moving.

Without pulling back, Sanji aimed another kick toward him, but again, Zoro didn't budge. Didn’t even blink.

“Still nothing,” Zoro smirked.

“Oh, fuck you,” Sanji snapped.

Heat spread from where Zoro touched him, and suddenly, Sanji was too aware. His face was flushed, leaving the rest of his body cold, aching for more of that warmth.

Reaching forward, Sanji grabbed for Zoro’s shirt only to find bare skin instead. His hand stalled as it grazed damp skin, fingers brushing the ragged scar. It should’ve made him pull back. 

It didn’t.

His fingers twitched, his touch lingered, greedy for more. 

Mesmerized, he traced the curve of the scar down between Zoro’s pecs, skin rough beneath his fingertips. He swallowed, throat tight, and his heart hammered in his chest. This heat, this closeness, he wouldn’t mind drowning in it. 

Zoro cleared his throat. Breaking the spell.

Sanji looked up through his lashes to meet his gaze.

There was something vulnerable in that searching grey eye. Something that reminded Sanji of a restless ocean, or of his own lonely nights.

And maybe that’s the answer Zoro found, too. The recognition that they both wanted something the other could give. Because Zoro leaned forward, and Sanji didn’t hesitate. 

Their lips collided, harsh and desperate. 

Oh.

A hot tongue slipped past his lips, and Sanji moaned. He actually moaned . 

Oh!

His whole body leaned into it, into Zoro, chasing the connection. The heat, the touch, and the taste of another person. Zoro.

He pressed forward, seeking more, needing more.

And Zoro let him.

Gave him everything.

“Curly,” Zoro breathed into his mouth, and Sanji drank every sound he made.

A hand fisted into his shirt, firm and unrelenting, pulling him even closer until his chest hit Zoro’s. He gasped, his breath stolen by a kiss of the pirate hunter. Lips greedily slotting against his own for a better angle, for more access.

Sanji hummed, needy and desperate.

It was all too much, yet not enough.

Trembling, Sanji scrambled into Zoro’s lap, chasing the touch, like being apart wasn’t an option anymore. The contact was addictive; he needed it. Needed the weight of another body against him, the feeling of lips on his, and something solid to hold on to. He ground his hips against Zoro, craving the friction, the touch . A groan escaped his lips at the feeling of Zoro’s erection against his own.

Oh, he needed more.

Pulling away from Zoro’s mouth was like depriving himself of air, and Sanji gasped against his cheek. Another deliberate rolling of his hips motivated him to keep going, to kiss his way along the sharp edge of Zoro’s jaw, lips tasting sweat, sake, and heat. 

“Gonna make you feel good.” Sanji’s voice was low and sweet as he spoke in between kisses trailing down his throat, feeling the swordsman’s pulse hammer beneath the tanned skin. 

Warm.

Alive. 

Sanji slid to his knees, hands ghosting Zoro’s chest as he kept pressing open-mouthed kisses down his torso. Zoro shuddered under his touch as Sanji followed the scar like a path he knew by heart. Upon reaching the end by his hipbone he stopped to suck a mark. Marking him . Proof that Sanji had been there. That Sanji had touched.

His hand came to fumble at Zoro’s waistband, hunger and desire making his fingers shake with anticipation. The outline of Zoro’s cock was sharp against his pants. 

He chanced a glance upwards, meeting Zoro’s burning gaze, seeing the rise and fall of his chest with each ragged breath. Searching for permission, for a connection.

“Can I?” He asked, knowing the answer, but needing to hear it anyway.

Zoro swallowed hard before giving a nod. 

In a swift motion Sanji pulled the pants down to free the already throbbing dick. 

“Oh,” Sanji breathed, gazing at it through half-lidded eyes. 

He didn’t touch it, not yet. Instead, he continued to kiss his way from the hip, taking his time down the course hairs down Zoro’s happy trail, a slow descent. A worship. 

Before finally, finally reaching the base of his cock. He kissed it once, and Zoro hissed. Sanji smiled against him before licking up the shaft, tongue deliberate and slow, ending with a flick across the slit. Tasting salt and heat. 

Zoro’s hips quivered ever so slightly under Sanji’s hand. Parting his lips, Sanji took him in, like he’d been starving for it. 

“Fuck,” Zoro grunted, pushing slowly into him and Sanji felt it.

Felt it the twitch against his tongue, the thick veins grazing the sensitive roof of his mouth, making him moan around it, needy, wrecked . He couldn’t help it. Not when he was so full. Not when Zoro’s body was finally in his hands, in his mouth, real and warm and trembling for him.

“C-Cook,” Zoro stuttered above him, voice frayed in a way Sanji had never heard.

Sanji squirmed on his knees, whimpering as he took him deeper, desperate to feel more of him. To be filled by the whole length, to feel his lips straining around the base. Tears welled in his eyes, spilling over as he took a ragged breath through his nose. The scent of Zoro, warm and salty, like the ocean, overwhelmed him.

Hands clawed at Zoro’s thighs for support, for the warmth, and for the sole purpose of feeling. For something to hold . Something solid . Clinging to Zoro as if afraid he would vanish, and the moment would end. 

“Zoro,” he tried to say, but it came out as nothing but a choked whimper. 

It had been so long. So long since someone touched him without it being a punch or a kick. Too long since someone had touched him like they wanted him. Too long since Sanji had felt truly needed.

Zoro’s gaze focused only on him, pupil dilated, burning with want and need, like he wanted Sanji. 

“You feel so good around me,” Zoro mumbled.

Heat coiled in Sanji’s lower abdomen, and his erection strained against the confines of his tight pants. But what Sanji needed was right here, in his hands, in his mouth, in all his senses. 

Through his blurry vision, he caught Zoro gripping onto the fabric of the couch, knuckles whitening as he held onto it like a lifeline.

I did that, Sanji thought, chest clenching.

He’s coming apart because of me.

Zoro bucked his hips forward, pushing further into Sanji as if helpless against him, and Sanji took it. Took everything he gave, greedy for more. He swirled his tongue around the tip, tasting precum, and Zoro groaned, an animalistic sound from the back of his throat.

A shiver ran down Sanji’s spine, coiling in his groin. He could live off that sound alone. 

He sounds like that because of me. 

Sanji loved this. Not just the effect he had, but the closeness. It beats the thrill of a fight any day of the week. Having Zoro like this, undone by his touches, the way he could make Zoro feel, need, maybe even need Sanji like Sanji needed him.

With a wet pop, he pulled off, earning a disappointed whimper from the man before him. 

Wow.

This was exhilarating.

Sanji pressed kisses along the erection, his breathing heavy, yet he couldn’t help smiling against the slick skin.

“So hard for me, huh?” He murmured, voice wrecked yet sweet, in awe. 

Zoro opened his mouth to reply, but all that came out was a weak hiss as Sanji cupped his balls, gently massaging them.

The weight of them heating his palm, the tender skin against his fingertips, it was almost too much. He had the power to make or break the usually so stoic swordsman.

Just a squeeze of his hand could end it all right here. Sanji kissed him carefully, a tender press of his lips against the tip of his leaking cock, like it was something precious.

He didn't want this to end. Didn’t want to let go and be left cold again. He wanted to feel more, taste more, he wanted it all. And he parted his lips again, tongue curling and coaxing, needing the weight of it in his mouth, the burn in his throat. 

“Damn…cook,” Zoro moaned into the back of his hand. 

It pulsated against his tongue as Sanji bobbed his head in a slow, steady rhythm with a desire to make this moment last forever. Because once it was over, then what? He’d be alone again with nothing but the memory of the warmth of his lips. 

Zoro trembled in front of him, and Sanji felt the quiver of his thighs in the desperate roll of his hips. The rhythm, the pressure, the way it struck the back of his throat hurt, but it was a pain that anchored him. Something that wrapped around his whole body and secured him.

Zoro let out a sound that was somewhere between a growl and a whimper when Sanji slid his mouth off just enough to speak.

“Fuck me,” Sanji said, voice a needy and ragged.

Instantly, Zoro’s hips jerked forward, stuttering into his mouth in erratic thrusts, cutting off Sanji’s breath and making his eyes roll back. His knees strained against the floor to keep steady while Zoro pounded into him.

With tears streaming down his flushed cheeks, Sanji took it all, letting Zoro chase his high, use him, because for Sanji, that meant feeling the touch of another. Of a man he had never dared to want but always craved. 

And this was as close as being wanted he thought he could come.

“S-Shit,” Zoro groaned. “You take me so well.”

Sanji moaned in reply, barely able to breathe but not wanting to stop.

“Looking so pretty like that.”

Closing his eyes, the praise settled around him like a blanket, and Sanji gave himself to Zoro completely. No more defense, no more bickering or snarky insults, just Sanji, raw and open. Craving, needing, begging.

Ignoring his aching knees, he let Zoro set the pace, rhythm growing frantic, and his breathing more labored. 

“Cook,” Zoro warned through gritted teeth. His hips trembled with the upcoming release. “Comin’.”

As Zoro was about to pull out, Sanji gripped his thighs, firmly keeping him in place. Even with his jaw aching from exhaustion, Sanji needed this. Needed it more than air, more than nicotine even. The choked out noises Zoro made, the feeling of his dick rubbing the inside of Sanji’s mouth, right now, that was all that mattered. 

Come, he said with the needy look in his eyes, with the whine in the back of his throat. 

And Zoro came.

Coating his throat in thick, warm sperm.

Sanji swallowed it down, desperate to hold onto the moment in any way he could. To keep it. Savor it.

Zoro heaved over him, long ragged breaths as he came down from his orgasm.

“Fuck,” he panted, watching him.

Again. I did that.

As Zoro slumped back, Sanji chased the retreating heat, trailed the dick on its way out, as if to lick every part of it. Relish every last second of it.

Zoro sighed heavily as his dick was let free. 

Sanji licked the last from his lips. 

“Curly,” Zoro said softly.

He reached forward, placing his hand on Sanji’s head, stroking it gently as his fingers threaded through golden hair. Fingertips grazing carefully against his scalp. The caress so sweet it nearly broke him.

No one had ever touched him like that.

Like Sanji was to be treasured. Like he was something precious.

Sanji froze, his breath caught in his throat. 

The warm touch, affectionate and soft, hit him harder than anything else. He trembled as heat pooled in his gut, the edges of him fraying under the weight of that tender touch. Everything he had built up, the heat shared, the longing gazes, the friction exchanged, all of it, unraveled in an instant. 

He gasped for air as he shuddered through his own orgasm, spilling warmth into his pants with a choked-out cry.

“Oh.” Zoro raised an eyebrow.

“Shut up,” Sanji snapped. 

Zoro didn’t. Of course, he didn’t.

“I was gonna ask what to do about you,” he murmured, leaning in with a smug expression. “But I guess you’ve got that sorted already.” 

He put a finger under Sanji’s chin, tilting his head up, leaning in to kiss him, soft this time, gentle. Not at all with the desperation from earlier. It was as if he were worthy of Zoro’s affection.

Sanji melted into it. Still not sated, still chasing that warmth, that softness. Afraid to let go, to never feel it again.

“I've always…” he breathed, barely audible. “...wanted this.”

Blinking, Zoro stared at him. 

Realizing what he had said, Sanji pulled back, heat rising rapidly up his face, making him flushed to the tip of his ears. “Ah—shit, uhm, I mean—”

“Hmm,” Zoro hummed, looking infuriatingly satisfied. “Let's make it a habit then.” He reached for Sanji’s hand, brushing his thumb over his knuckles. It was so gentle, as if he knew how fragile Sanji was under all that fire.

Sanji’s mouth fell open, eyes wide.

The skin on the back of his hand sent a tremor through him, heart hammered in his chest.

“Sanji,” Zoro purred, a low, soothing rumble.

His breath caught in his throat. 

Something inside of him cracked.

The sound of his name rolling off Zoro’s lips like a promise made him wish for something he thought he could never have. Not with anyone.

Not with Zoro.

But damn, did he want it.

A shadow fell over his face, and Sanji glanced up just in time to see Zoro close the distance between them. Capturing Sanji’s lips in a featherlight kiss, stealing his breath away, taking any doubts, and casting them aside. 

Sanji’s eyes fluttered closed, and he could feel it. Zoro. The emotions. The possibility of a future—no. The promise of a future. 

He could feel it all from the press of Zoro’s lips, secure and reassuring, just like the gentle way he interlaced their fingers.

“So,” Zoro whispered against his lips. “What do you say?”

Blinking back tears, Sanji’s throat tightened, and he couldn’t speak.

Could he really believe—

Zoro squeezed his hand. 

Yes, he could.

So Sanji kissed him. Hard. With everything he had kept hidden behind kicks and insults. He kissed him with every ounce of desperate need he had suppressed for far too long. He kissed him with passion and desire, telling Zoro that yes, he wanted this. 

He had always wanted this.

Wanted Zoro.