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Two Zoros is a nightmare come to life.
Sanji doesn’t even know the details of why it happened, and frankly, he doesn’t even care. As soon as Robin-chan explains that the older Zoro– Roronoa, as the crew’s started to call him for convenience– isn’t a threat, and likely will be gone soon enough, Sanji turns his brain off. Good. The problem solves itself. The best solution to dealing with two Zoros is avoiding them until one goes away.
It isn’t even hard to avoid them. Sanji shouldn’t be mad at that. He isn’t mad about it. But it’s not what he expects, and that reversal of expectations is definitely what’s bothering him.
The two of them have taken to constantly fighting on deck like men possessed. Both of them mutually decided with their neanderthal thought process that the clear, natural conclusion to two Zoros is to determine the stronger Zoro. From the few glances Sanji’s taken through the galley door–unintentionally– it’s pretty clearly the older of the two, but it’s not like his– their– Zoro’s letting that go without a fight.
It’s always a long, sweaty, fight too, with one of the Zoros pinning the other down on deck with one sword to the throat. Typically, Roronoa wins, and the sight of Zoro glaring up at himself twists something in Sanji’s gut and he forces himself to keep his eyes away from the galley porthole.
With Zoro occupied with himself all day, Sanji has to deal with the uncomfortable revelation he spends a good chunk of his afternoons and evenings trying to kick the swordsman’s head in. Now, with another Zoro there to occupy that place on the crew, he’s left with empty time in the evening and little else to do but sulk.
Whatever. He can organize the pantry with his well-deserved free time. He’s earned this for putting up with Zoro’s antics for so long. He’s happy about it. Delighted, even.
It’s late in the evening, and the rest of the crew’s gone to shore to avoid the chaos on deck. The two Zoros only took a brief second to acknowledge the crew’s departure, before they’re back at it, and swords clash loudly on the deck. Wood creaks, then splinters, and apparently neither of the two of them give enough of a shit to worry about their poor ship.
Sanji grits his teeth together. He can’t lie to himself, not completely. He’s furious. It’s a cold, burning fury he doesn’t feel often, but seems solely reserved for their resident idiot swordsman. Now that there’s two of them, he supposes it makes fucking sense the cold fury is here in absolute tenfold.
Maybe he expected– he doesn’t know. He didn’t even get a good look at Roronoa before both mossheads’ singular brain cells decided to duke it out.
He’d been so much larger than their current Zoro, like the man’s stupid idiot training regiment actually worked. He’d almost been as wide as Franky, a literal cyborg, and entirely muscle. Hell, he’d bet his chest was wider than Robin’s, and it’s a stupid dangerous thought process to go down but hell it definitely was and Sanji didn’t even get a good look at it.
Sanji’s lost in thought, it takes him a second to parse the fact that the galley door opens.
“-I don’t get why you can’t fucking tell me,” Zoro says, his Zoro, anger muffled by exhausted panting. “It’s my eye. Don’t you want me to keep my eye?”
“Dunno, I’m beating you well enough without it.” Roronoa, on the other hand, sounds hardly put out, even lazy. What the hell kind of stamina does he have? “Not that big a deal.”
“Whatever,” Zoro mutters. He trods into the galley like he owns the place, boots dragging on the floorboards. “I’ll beat it out of you.”
“Heh, you wish,” says Roronoa. Sanji can only see the outline of the man, still silhouetted by the evening light. “You’re the one who asked for a break.”
“Not a break. Just wanted a damn drink.”
Shit, are they here for booze? For once in his life, Sanji hopes one of them knows where the secret stash of cooking wine is, the stuff he keeps outside the pantry. He doesn’t want either of them to find him here, sulking. It’s bad enough Sanji’s left the pantry door ajar, with just enough of a slit between door and frame for Sanji to see through and– hopefully– for either Zoro not to notice.
For one, terrifying second, Roronoa eyes the kitchen pantry with a frown on his face. For some reason, even in the dim evening light, his eyes seem to glow as he looks right to where Sanji’s standing. Sanji can only hope the pantry door’s like a one-way mirror, but by the look of Roronoa’s smirk, he’s sorely mistake.
He’s expected Roronoa to mention it. Instead, he knocks open the secret side-door in the upper cabinets, and pulls out Sanji’s secret cooking wine. Bastard. It’s better than the alternative, but did he have to show Zoro?
“The hell?” Zoro says. In the dim lighting, Sanji can see how his face pinches in annoyance. “That’s where the cooking wine is?”
“Uh-huh,” Roronoa responds, pulling out the cork with his teeth. Barbarian. He spits the cork on the ground and takes a long swig from the bottle.
Zoro’s eyebrows furrow, looking to the kitchen cabinet then back to Roronoa. “And you’re willing to spill the cook’s secrets but not yours?”
He sounds weirdly angry. If it wasn’t for the insanity of this situation, Sanji’d be touched.
Roronoa leans languidly against the kitchen counter, his gaze flickering between Zoro and the pantry door. Sanji’s ramrod stiff, one hand over his own mouth. “Not all the cook’s secrets,” he says eventually. “Just the ones that get me drunk.”
“So just the ones that benefit you,” Zoro says, then he brackets Roronoa to the counter, and while Sanji’s sure it’s a threatening tactic on anyone else, Zoro looks absolutely dwarfed by his older self.
It’s a fact Zoro seems to realize, too. He looks himself up and down, hands clenching the countertop in tight white-knuckled fists. He settles on staring up at Roronoa, and all Sanji can see is his profile. Sweat drips down his brow, and his face is red with familiar exhaustion.
Sanji frowns. He’s sure it’s exhaustion, but Zoro hadn’t looked that red when he first entered the galley.
Of course, Roronoa is simply unphased. “Awfully overprotective.”
Sanji’s expecting Zoro to say something in response, but instead Zoro looks Roronoa up and down again. Sanji takes the self-indulgent moment to follow his gaze, up and down Roronoa’s torso. Infuriatingly, Zoro’s blocking most of his view, and Roronoa’s shoulders are still clothed so all Sanji’s left to see is a brief sliver of his pecs.
“What, cat got your tongue?” Zoro’s older self taunts. Then, he eyes the pantry door, meeting Sanji’s panicked gaze, and Sanji’s never been more positive that asshole knows where he’s hiding. “Or should I say, coo-”
“Shut up,” Zoro cuts him off. Then, he frowns, eyeing himself up and down, looking oddly contemplative. “Ever wonder what your own dick tastes like?” he asks, then clamps his mouth shut like it’s a thought he’d expected to keep private.
The galley turns silent, as both Sanji and Roronoa gape. It’s silent enough that all Sanji hears is the hammering of his heart in his throat. What the fuck, Zoro.
The statement seems to shock even Roronoa, who’s had the upper hand this entire, shitty little conversation. If Sanji didn’t have his hand pressed over his face, he’s sure he would’ve been noticed by the sharp intake of breath he takes.
What? Why’s Zoro– that’s deranged. It’s not– Sanji’s thought about it, but not– what the hell. Did he really have to be here for this? Maybe Franky installed a secret trap door in the pantry he can use to escape. Maybe another devil fruit user will send him into a dimension that makes more sense. Anything. His heart hammers in his chest, and he knows it’s irrational but it feels so loud.
Roronoa, too, seems shocked. “Um,” he stutters. “You can just lick your hand after jacking off—”
“Not the same,” Zoro cuts him off again, examining himself again. Shit, not just examining himself, he’s checking himself out. What the fuck. Why’s Sanji here for this? What did he do to deserve this? His face feels hot, and he bites the bottom of his lip until he’s sure it’s raw and bleeding.
Sanji’s expecting Roronoa to be the well-needed sanity check on the situation. Instead, he grins, teeth wide and pointy as he looks down at Zoro. “Well, why don’t you find out?” he says, and Sanji clamps his hand tighter to his face.
Then, Zoro’s on his knees.
This is happening. Sanji shoves one finger in his mouth to bite on to silence himself.
Roronoa takes one more long look at Sanji, then shrugs. He buries his hand in Zoro’s hair, making him look up. His knuckles are tight in Zoro’s hair, and that’s sure to hurt, but by the way Zoro’s eyelids flutter, he’s fucking enjoy that, isn’t he? What a masochist. Why hadn’t Sanji figured that out sooner?
“Take your time,” Roronoa taunts, his voice low and gravely, looking back at Sanji. He pets Zoro’s head, but he looks Sanji up and down, and Sanji shudders at the examination.
And does Zoro take his damn time. Sanji bites down on his finger as Zoro pulls down his own fucking pants, just low enough that the hemline reveals the fact that Roronoa’s going commando. Of course he is, Sanji’s always wondered but never known, and now that he does his mind races at thoughts he can’t stop.
Well, thoughts he can’t stop until Zoro pulls out his own dick. Then his mind is blissfully empty and his dick is unmistakably needy.
Roronoa’s dick is half hard already, and big, bigger than Sanji expected. He shoves another finger in his mouth, just because he’s fucking annoyed at this point. Why did Zoro have to be that thick? He’d always assumed that– no, he hasn’t. He hasn’t thought about this at all.
Roronoa’s dick hits Zoro in the face, and Sanji’s heart beats in his throat.
“Well?” Roronoa says, eyes still on Sanji. “Want a taste?”
Then, Roronoa’s eyes are off him. Zoro takes the tip of his cock into his mouth, and Sanji shoves his two fingers to the back of his throat. He can’t afford to make any noise in this situation, but as Zoro shoves more and more of his own cock down his throat, it’s hard not to. He sucks on his own fingers, licking up and down the length of them, hoping the flesh conceals his groan.
Sanji can see the indent Roronoa’s cock makes in Zoro’s cheeks, and hear as Zoro groans around it. It’s not even halfway hard, or halfway in, but Zoro’s lapping up his own dick like it’s god’s gift itself. Roronoa’s hands card tight in Zoro’s hair, finally finding purchase at the nap of Zoro’s neck.
Sanji shouldn’t be watching this. But he can’t look away, his eyes transfixed on Zoro’s expression as it turns into such an open display of want. Is that all it took? A single blowjob? Sanji’s not jealous, but…
Then, when Zoro’s still adjusting, Roronoa pushes himself completely into Zoro’s mouth.
Sanji’s so, so fucking glad he’s got two fingers in his mouth already, or else he’d be sure to make enough noise to alert them both. Instead, he pants around his fingers, and despite his own reservations on the situation, moves them up and down his tongue, almost like he’s pretending to suck Zoro off himself.
His other hand clenches uselessly at his side. He could address the growing tightness in his pants, at least palm himself through the fabric, but that’d be admitting something Sanji’s not able to yet. Instead, he just fucks two fingers into his own mouth, hoping the wet noise is covered by the equally wet blow job from outside the pantry doors.
Despite the harsh treatment, Zoro seems to be enjoying himself. He runs up and down Roronoa’s length, his eyes half-lidded and moans increasingly loud. Unlike Sanji, he’s even adjusting his own pants, his hard cock obvious and out in the air. It’s just as big as Roronoa’s, and while that should be fucking obvious, Sanji groans at the sight.
Zoro’s jacking himself off, the noise loud and wet. Sanji can’t decide where to watch, Zoro’s hand as it drags leaking precome down his length and back up again, or his mouth as he sucks on Roronoa.
Sanji doesn’t have to make the decision himself, though, because soon enough Roronoa pulls Zoro’s hand away from his cock.
“Hands on my hips,” Roronoa demands. Zoro fucking obediently obeys, pulling his hand away from his dick to press into Roronoa’s skin. His thumbs make harsh, bruising indents on flesh, and Sanji wonders if that’s punishment enough for the blue balls both he and Zoro have.
Zoro’s problem is solved quickly enough. Roronoa places one leg between Zoro’s thighs, and Zoro keens into the knee. He leans forward, taking more cock into his throat, and starts thrusting against Roronoa’s leg.
“Wow, who you knew you— hnn— could be so desperate,” Roronoa pants, cocky despite being undone himself. Zoro simply thrusts harder into his leg, precome staining the fabric.
Oh, god. Sanji’s going to get off to Zoro humping his own thigh, isn’t he?
Sanji’s not going to allow himself the sight. He closes his eyes shut, focusing on his own heavy breathing and the backs of his eyelids. It’s hard to ignore the two Zoros, though, with the obvious wet noise of a blowjob and Roronoa’s increasingly loud and infuriating moaning. The two fingers in his mouth he’d used to silence himself feel heavy, but not heavy enough. He swallows thickly, and wonders how the hell did he get here.
He doesn’t even have an excuse in any of this. If he’d caught Zoro and a woman, or even another man, he could dismiss his burgeoning jealousy as being placed on Zoro himself. He could be jealous at the fact that Zoro was getting laid and it should be Sanji getting laid. Easy, straight-forward thought process. Instead, like some poetic justice for his own twisted fantasies, he’s forced to deal with the horrible reality of the situation.
He absolutely wants to fuck Zoro.
Zoro groans on the other side of the door. Prying his eyes open, Sanji watches as Zoro’s spit drips on the floor from his fucked-open mouth, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. Roronoa’s hand keeps him there, languidly thrusting into Zoro’s mouth like he belongs there.
It’s hot, and absolutely enraging. Something hot coils in Sanji’s gut, and his groin. Shit. Shit.
Infuriated, Sanji shoves another finger into his own mouth. He’s at three now, and it’s not enough. He presses his own tongue down to the floor of his mouth, jacking his fingers in and out at the pace of Roronoa’s own thrusting. It’s not enough, it’s not enough, it’s not what he wants, but hell if he’s announcing his presence to both Zoros in the room.
He’s got so many fingers moving in and out, he figures it muffles some of the sounds coming unintentionally out of his throat, but evidently not enough, because Roronoa– without even breaking his pace– turns to the kitchen pantry and meets Sanji’s eye.
“You can take more of it,” Roronoa says. Zoro tries his best to, not realizing the command isn’t for him. “You know you want to.”
Sanji does his best to glare. Tears prick in the corners of his eyes with how he’s practically gagging himself on his own fingers, and he’s too into it to stop. Shit. He’s met with a wide smirk, confident and aware, and Sanji’s desperately hoping that’s the end of it.
It’s not. Of course it’s not.
Roronoa dips his shoulder backward. It’s enough for the sleeve to fall to the side, finally revealing his pecs to Sanji. Roronoa teases one of them with his own hand, smirking as he eyes Sanji again, and Sanji can’t bring himself to look away. Something hot drips on his lip, and embarrassingly Sanji realizes his nose is definitely bleeding.
Even with his teasing, Roronoa keeps at the same, languid pace, thrusting further and further into Zoro’s mouth. Zoro, the bastard, simply takes it like it’s the best thing he’s ever sucked on, his eyes fluttering and glazing over. While Roronoa kept an even pace, Zoro’s thrusting desperately into his thigh, and Sanji watches as his cock drags over the clothed fabric.
It’s debauched. It only gets worse, as finally Roronoa speeds up, his hand holding Zoro’s head firm as he fucks into his mouth. The noise echoes off the galley walls, and Zoro stutters in his thrusting until he’s coming against Roronoa’s pants in uneven bursts.
At that, Sanji can’t help himself, and finally palms himself through the fabric of his own pants. He groans against his fingers, and thrusts them further and further back his throat. He wants more, he needs more, but he can’t–
He’s still achingly hard when Roronoa comes, his hand shoving Zoro somehow further on his cock. Zoro, to his credit, only moans as Roronoa spills into him. By the time he pulls away, only a dribble of cum drips down his lips.
Shit, he’s swallowed him whole.
Frustrated, Sanji tries to find the zipper of his pants as fast as fucking possible, but quiets as Zoro pulls away.
“Didn’t expect you to swallow,” Roronoa taunts. His flaccid dick hands between them, and he’s confident for a man who just fucking blew his load. “Guess you take the cook’s food waste policy to heart already.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Zoro mutters. He thumbs the last drop of cum from his lip, then sucks it off his own thumb. “What the hell would you know?”
Roronoa looks to the pantry, meeting Sanji’s gaze. He’s sure his eyes are wide as saucers, and his heart hammers in his throat, alongside his fingers buried deep. Spit drips down his lips, and he doesn’t want to be seen like this.
But Sanji doesn’t get a choice in the matter.
In a movement Sanji can’t even track, Roronoa suddenly pushes Zoro away enough to open the pantry door. It creaks open, and all Sanji can do is try to pull his fingers out of his mouth fast enough for Zoro not to fucking see.
He’s sure he’s looking pitiful. By the time Roronoa decided to open the fucking door and witness Sanji’s shame, Sanji’s leaned against the pantry wall with the base of his palm on his own dick and his fingers desperately trying to find his fly. Spit soaks his fingers, blood dribbles down his lips, and he’s panting heavily.
“Um,” Sanji tries. Because Sanji’s a self-hating bastard, he passes by Roronoa’s gaze to find Zoro’s wide-eyed look itself. He looks like he’s just seen the ocean flipped on its side. “Don’t– you stupid– don’t fuck in my kitchen,” he says pitifully.
He can finally see the front of Zoro’s face. His lips are plush and red, spit still staining his chin. Shock still sits on his face for moments longer than Sanji expects, then he eyes Sanji up and down, just like he’d done with Roronoa.
In an attempt to hide himself, he accidentally presses his palm further into his cock, and stifles a moan. Clenching his eyes shut, Sanji wishes for the floor to swallow him whole.
Mercifully, Zoro turns his glare from Sanji to Roronoa. “You knew he was there the whole time,” he growls, and Sanji resists the urge to palm himself again.
Roronoa laughs, hand ruffling Zoro’s hair.
“Like you can talk,” Sanji hisses. He should stay out of this conversation, but of course he doesn’t. “You just— you just sucked yourself off!”
Zoro, at least, has the decorum to look embarrassed. He thumbs at his own lip again, as if he’s expecting to find another layer of cum, but only finds his own spit.
“Don’t say you wouldn’t try it if you had the chance,” Zoro mutters, his voice low, annoyed, and way too husky for the situation at hand.
Absolutely not. No way. Sanji’s not capable of looking at himself with the same stupid lust Zoro found for himself. It’s a sad, cloying revelation, and Sanji needs to cover it up the best he’s able.
“I don’t need to,” he spits. “Some of us are flexible enough to do that normally.”
It shuts Zoro up, at least. He blinks dumbly at Sanji, and for lack of a better option, Sanji looks to Roronoa and finds the same stupid expression on his face.
“What,” Zoro manages. “What? You can— what?”
Maybe that retort was a mistake.
“Doesn’t matter,” Zoro continues past his fluster. “What do you care if I suck myself? Shouldn’t involve you.”
Sanji gestures widely. “You’re in my kitchen!” he accuses, face red and dick still hard. “Go fuck yourself somewhere else!”
“It’s not your kitchen! You should’ve— I didn’t know you were there!”
Roronoa certainly did. “Just get out and do something normal again! Cut each other up! Shit,” Sanji motions to the door. “Just get the fuck out.”
“You sure that’s what you want?” Zoro says. But it’s not Zoro, because his lips are still contorted in a thin, angry line.
Sanji whips his head back around to Roronoa. He’s watching the conversation lazily, leaning against the counter again, and stroking himself.
“Well what I wanted was to suck you off,” Sanji hisses before he can stop himself, “But someone had to get to himself first.”
As soon as Sanji finishes his accusation, he clamps a hand over his mouth and eyes his exit. Shit. Why did he have to let Roronoa get to him like this? And Zoro, too?
“You mean that?” Roronoa asks. His hand’s still on his dick, but instead of looking at Sanji, he’s looking at Zoro.
Sanji huffs. “Unfortunately,” he admits, “Yes.”
It’s all Roronoa needs to move forward quickly, pulling Sanji out of the pantry with one heavy, warm hand. He’s quickly manhandled so his back is to Roronoa and his shoulder blades press deep into the man’s pecs. Shit, Sanji shimmies around and sure enough he’s pressed tight to Roronoa’s front.
“What are you doing,” Sanji huffs, then presses back into the warmth behind him. “I just said I wanted to suck you off, this isn’t the position to do that in, you stupid bastard!”
He’s so concentrated on Roronoa behind him, he doesn’t notice Zoro until the man’s mouth is on his still-clothed dick. Sanji’s eyes widen, and he looks down to meet Zoro’s. Zoro uses the moment of concentration he has to lick up the fabric of Sanji’s pants, teeth clinging to his fly.
“Ah,” Sanji’s hands clench at his side uselessly. “Oh,” he groans, equally uselessly, then covers his face with his hand.
Roronoa grinds behind him, pushing him further into Zoro’s mouth. It’s a shame Sanji can’t see him, but he can feel the ripple of his muscles even through the thin fabric of his dress shirt. “Zoro’ll suck you off first,” Roronoa says. He doesn’t even ask Zoro. “Is that enough for you?”
“Yeah, sure, okay, that works,” Sanji quickly agrees, eyelids fluttering shut. He tries to grip anything at all, and finds purchase on the meat of Roronoa’s thigh and the top of Zoro’s head. “Holy shit.”
Zoro’s breath is hot on his dick, and Sanji’s sure he’s leaking through the fabric of his boxers already. He grinds forward in an attempt to get Zoro to hurry the fuck up, but the plea falls on empty ears. Zoro is content enough to tease him shamelessly, eyes half-lidded as he watches Sanji fall apart.
“I said that works,” Sanji growls, “Hurry up.”
Hands reach around Sanji’s sides, one tight around his waist and the other teasing on the hemline of Sanji’s pants. Roronoa’s thumb is hot between the elastic of Sanji’s boxers but too fucking far from its destination.
“Maybe you need to learn some manners first, shit cook,” Roronoa’s voice rumbles through his ribcage, and Sanji keens back into him. “I thought you were a gentleman.”
“Not for you,” Sanji retorts, but it comes out like a whimper. He moves his hand from Zoro’s hair to Roronoa’s wrist, gripping flesh between his fingernails in a desperate attempt to get the man to move.
He’s expecting more teasing, which is why it’s all the more shocking when his pants are pulled down without warning. Sanji lets out a desperate, choked noise as he looks back down. In a vye for Sanji’s attention, Zoro licks up Sanji’s length until his cheek rests on the inside of Sanji’s thigh.
“Hnn– you– you’re impatient,” Sanji groans hypocritically. He tries to thrust forward, but Roronoa’s arm around his middle keeps him locked in place. “Bastard, get a move on.”
Zoro stays still, satisfied enough to contribute to the constant teasing. He already looks properly fucked, hair mussed and lips plush, but somehow both of them are making a fool out of Sanji. Thinking back to the earlier blowjob, Sanji takes advantage of his new insight. He grips a handful of Zoro’s hair and pulls him back.
Choking on a groan, Zoro’s eyelids flutter, and Sanji finally is in a position to appreciate the sight. His eyes are blown so wide, his face fully flushed, and it only takes another tug of his hair for Sanji to coax another, pitiful whimper from him.
Then, right as Zoro leans forward, dick somehow hard again and dragging on Sanji’s leg, Sanji lets him go. Blinking, he cocks his head to the side and eyes Sanji with a pout.
“Only good dogs get rewarded,” Sanji growls, “So you better– oh fuck.”
Suddenly, Sanji’s dick is fucking engulfed. Heat pools in his gut as Zoro takes the tip in completely, licking the slit and taking him in inch by inch. Sanji knows he can take more, and take more faster, but Roronoa keeps him pinned down.
As Zoro reaps his reward by humping into Sanji’s leg, Roronoa grinds on Sanji’s ass, and suddenly all chance at control of the situation is gone. Sanji leans back helplessly into Roronoa’s chest, pressing the side of his face into it in order to hide his surely long-gone expression from Zoro.
Stupid decision, because as soon as he opens his eyes he’s met with the sight of Zoro’s chest. He’s so damn close, but so far, and he mouths at his nipple like a man starved. His cheek presses firm between the man's pecks, and he's not going to move. He jerks forward again, but it’s futile.
“Let me move,” Sanji begs. Roronoa’s arm keeps firm. “Let me move let me move let me move–”
Instead, Roronoa shoves three fingers in Sanji’s mouth, and Sanji chokes on them. They’re so much bigger than his own, and he licks them up and down like he’d sucked on his own fingers. His jaw presses wider open at the intrusion, and he drools on the fingers until they’re wet and slick and almost a replacement for the dick he’s yet to fucking suck.
Then, as soon as Sanji almost gets what he wants, it’s gone. Roronoa pulls his fingers out of his mouth, and then pulls away from Sanji further. For one second Sanji thinks his degrading begging worked, but he’s still held back. A loud, desperate noise comes out of his throat entirely unintentionally, and Sanji closes his eyes shut.
He doesn’t realize what Roronoa’s planning until it’s much too late. A warm finger presses into Sanji’s hole, slick with his own saliva.
“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck–”
It’s not even a knuckle in before Sanji comes undone.
He doesn’t even bother to warn Zoro, he doesn’t get a warning himself. His eyes roll into the back of his head as he’s finally, finally allowed to push forward. Zoro sputters around him, suddenly with two inches more cock down his throat and a mouthful of cum to match.
Sanji buries his fingernails into Roronoa’s thigh until he draws blood, his own heavy breathing and heart pounding the only things he can hear. It takes him a while to comprehend anything that isn’t the warmth of his back or the cold air on his dick.
“You could at least warn me,” Zoro says. Sanji blinks down at him. Spit drips down his jaw, way messier than when he’d sucked himself off.
Upper-level thought processes have been fucked out of him. “Mhph,” Sanji agrees. His hands shakes as he pets Zoro’s hair. “But you look good like this.”
The flush on Zoro’s face is worth the honest compliment. It reaches all the way up to his hairline, and he looks caught off guard, like a prey animal caught before the knife.
It’s a moment of control Sanji can only relish for a moment, because he’s quickly reminded that Roronoa’s finger is still up his ass. Sanji’s breath hitches as he moves, just slightly, and feels his rim stretch. It’s tempting to move more, but Sanji’s cock twitches uselessly in front of him, completely spent.
“Go easy on him,” Roronoa rumbles behind him. He has no such qualms about teasing Sanji further, slowly pushing himself further and further into Sanji, even as he’s over-sensitive. “Might get rewarded for it.”
Then, he twists his fingers tactically into Sanji’s prostate and he chokes. His breath catches in his throat, his fingers clench uselessly around whatever he can find, and his back arches into the hard muscle of Roronoa’s abs. Suddenly, the brief moment of control Sanji’s had is gone and he’s back to being outnumbered.
When he finally opens his eyes again, he’s staring down at a heavily panting Zoro. Zoro’s still on his knees, hands white-hot on Sanji’s hips, and the prey animal look is soon replaced with something predatory.
It sends shivers down his spine, but Sanji’s determined to beat Zoro at something. “Still haven’t– hnn– sucked you off,” Sanji bites his lip to stop himself from moaning again. “Bet I could last longer.”
Zoro huffs, eyes dark. Before Sanji can celebrate his taunting, Roronoa twists another finger into him, and fuck he just came but his dick twitches traitorously beneath him.
“Really, cook, you shouldn’t make empty threats,” Zoro looks him up and down, licks the cum off his bottom lip, then looks back up at Roronoa. “Why didn’t you get his shirt off?”
“Busy,” Roronoa twists two fingers up into Sanji again, and it takes all Sanji’s concentration to keep upright.
Zoro, still fully clothed himself, picks himself up off his knees to push one wide, warm hand up Sanji’s chest. The fabric of his dress shirt pulls taut at the movement, buttons stretching to their limit.
“Hah, don’t— this is a nice shirt,” Sanji protests, gasping as Zoro finds his nipple and tugs. “It’s— you— Zoro. Careful.”
Zoro’s next movement is softer, hand pulling down his front slowly. He lingers at Sanji’s hips, running circles into his waist, until he pulls away completely.
Obediently, Zoro moves to unbutton each of the buttons up his front carefully. Sanji almost regrets it, because it takes him for-fucking-every, but soon enough his shirt front’s ripped open, tossed to the floor, and Zoro’s running his hands up and down Sanji’s front.
The movement pushes him back into Roronoa’s fingers, and the man takes the chance to add a third. Sanji groans, knocking his head back into Roronoa’s chest, trying his best not to come on the spot.
His head hits fabric, and Sanji suddenly realizes he’s the most undressed of any of them.
“You too,” he says as he fucks himself on to Roronoa’s fingers. “You too, you look awfully— fuck— hot under the collar you should— ah-“
Shamefully, he can’t get anything out. Zoro gets the point, though, and shucks his clothes off like a man possessed. His shirt’s tossed to the floor and boots kicked to the side, and soon enough Sanji’s left to see the mosshead in all his naked glory. It's not like he hasn't seen this before, but there's a difference between watching Zoro in the bath and watching Zoro's dick stand at full attention.
The enjoyment doesn’t last long, though, as when Sanji looks him over Zoro’s not looking at him.
There’s that heated look again, pointed in Roronoa’s direction. He’s looking straight past Sanji to his older self, surely getting a nice fucking view of the man’s pecs Sanji can’t even see right now.
Zoro moves to take his older self’s damn clothes off, and deep-seated jealousy flares in Sanji again. They’ve spent all damn day beating the shit out of each other and ignoring him. Finally pulling a hand away from Roronoa’s vice grip, he digs his nails into Zoro’s wrist.
“No,” Sanji growls, “Pay attention to me.”
Then, with as much force as he’s able to, he pulls forward and buries his teeth in Zoro’s shoulder. Hot blood pools in his mouth, and it’s worth the punched-out noise Zoro gives.
Sanji only pulls away when his hair’s roughly pulled back, Zoro eyeing him up and down.
He preens under the scrutiny. Good.
“Okay, okay, blowjob time,” Zoro tightens his grip on Sanji’s hair. “Now.”
Finally, Roronoa lets Sanji go, taking out his fingers and releasing his arm from his waist. Sanji’s knees sag to the floor, hitting with a loud thunk. Sanji’s almost dizzy as he stares up at Zoro, so he leans his cheek into his thigh and licks a long strip up to his crotch.
Zoro’s dick twitches right next to his face, but Sanji nips at his upper thigh instead of addressing the problem. He sinks his teeth in until he hears Zoro gasp, then licks at the blood that pools from his bite marks.
Then, before Sanji can even get started, another pair of hands grabs his waist. He yelps as he’s dragged backwards, now on his hands and knees. His knees dig into the floorboard, and his fingernails scratch over the surface.
Roronoa’s hand slaps his ass, and Sanji whimpers. He looks up at Zoro, his cheek still on the man’s thigh, and he’s delighted to find that Zoro’s eyes are still on him. Dark and intense, and Sanji tries to lick closer to his dick but he yelps as his ass is slapped a second time.
“Can’t have you hiding this,” Roronoa says. “Not after I’ve put so much work into opening you up.”
His hands, big and warm, stretch open his asscheeks until one finger’s back in his hole opening him up. Sanji presses back into the touch, too far-gone to give a shit about shame or remorse or anything of that ilk. Instead, he moans loudly and unabashedly as Roronoa shoves in another finger unannounced.
“H-hey, you can’t just steal him away,” Zoro protests. He buries a hand in Sanji’s hair for attention, and Sanji makes a show of ignoring him. Or, he tries to, but his mouth still waters as he presses his nose to the base of Zoro’s cock.
“What, want to shut him up?” Another finger, and Sanji clamps his eyes shut with another stuttered gasp. “Cook can multitask.”
Hand still clenched in Sanij’s hair, Zoro pulls him back until the tip of his cock’s at Sanji’s lips. Sanji’s past the point of teasing, he’s waited too damn long for a taste, so as soon as the precome dots his lips he surges forward.
“Fuck– shit, cook,” Zoro groans, and it’s music to Sanji’s ears. He sucks in more of Zoro, letting the taste and the weight of his cock flood his senses. Soon enough, the salty taste of precome and hot, heavy dick in his mouth is all he can think about, trying to get more into his throat.
Zoro gasps above him, hand shaking in Sanji’s hair. He should tease Zoro about this, “Hnn,” he mouths around Zoro’s dick instead, eyes rolling to the back of his head.
“Hold his head,” commands one of them, Sanji’s not sure which, but soon both Zoro’s hands are on his head, one still in his hair and the other at the base of his neck.
His attention’s finally pulled away from the dick in his mouth as Roronoa’s fingers stop, pulling out of him entirely. Whining, Sanji thrusts back and he’s met with the touch of something thicker than all of Roronoa’s fingers combined, and it stretches into him further and further until finally he realizes what it could be.
Oh. Holy shit.
Roronoa’s cock splits him, feeling endless as he stretches Sanji open. He pushes back into it, away from Zoro, until Roronoa thrusts forward, all the way in, and Sanji’s back to choking on cock. His eyes flutter shut, and and his dick leaks on the floor.
He gasps, grasping anything he can find– Zoro’s ankle, he thinks– and then with an unchecked determination, he grasps at Zoro’s hip and forces him further into his mouth.
The action spurs on both men around him, and suddenly Sanji’s lost all thread of thought in his mind as it’s pounded out of him. Hands pull at his hair, and at his hips, and he can only keen and groan as Roronoa finds his prostate again and Zoro buries himself in his throat. His mind’s a blank slate of dominated bliss.
“Hah– hnn– that’s it–” another slap to the ass. Sanji arches his back into it, his dick untouched but seeping precome.
His hair’s pulled up again, and he’s forced to look up through teary eyes. It’s a complete show for attention, now, and Sanji’s not going to last much longer, but he's not going to give Zoro what he wants. He's ready to ignore him, again, and shove back on to Roronoa, but...
Suddenly, the Roronoa pulls out and doesn’t push back in. Frustrated at the loss, Sanji pushes back, but there’s nothing behind him. He tries again, whining for the man behind him, but when he’s not able to find anything again he turns around and— huh. Roronoa isn’t there.
He’s too horny for rational thought, so he doesn’t figure out what the hell’s going on until Zoro puts it into words for him.
“Uh, the devil fruit power wore off,” Zoro concludes.
Sanji’s hand shakes on Zoro’s ankle. He pulls off Zoro's dick with a wet plop and looks behind him. What a piece of shit. He couldn’t even finish the fucking job. He peers closely at Zoro’s dick, precome and spit and all. He’s not going to beg, but…
“Well, are you going to finish what he started?” Sanji taunts. “Or are you just going to sit there and look stupid–”
Almost as quick as his older counterpart, Zoro manhandles him until Sanji’s back is pressed into the galley floor. Then, hands on Sanji’s ankles, he pushes Sanji’s legs back until they press above his head, hole on full display.
“Holy shit, you are that flexible,” Zoro says.
This is getting ridiculous. “Just fuck me,” Sanji arches backward, trying to line himself up to Zoro’s dick. “Hurry up,” he whines, “Or are you afraid you won’t stack up?”
That’s the last taunt Zoro needs before he slams forward, filling Sanji back to the brim. He groans, hands trying to find purchase on absolutely anything, as Zoro thrusts deeper and deeper—
“Harder,” Sanji orders. He grips the back of Zoro’s neck and brings Zoro’s forehead to his own. “Come on, I know you have it in you, more—“
"Quit being so fucking- hnn- noisy," Zoro argues back, but obeys nevertheless. He pushes forward, pushes deeper, and meets Sanji’s lips in a messy, open mouthed kiss. Zoro’s teeth nip at his bottom lip, already raw, and then he pistons himself into Sanji fast and hard.
“This hard enough,” he says through pants, “Harder than him?”
It’s pathetic bait, and somehow Sanji’s able to hold a single thread of thought to taunt him. “Hah– not– not enough, no, you shitty–”
With a feral growl, Zoro pushes forward, hard, and buries his face into Sanji’s neck, biting down until he bleeds.
It’s the bite that does him in. Sanji thrusts up as much as he’s able, coming untouched between them. He feels himself clench around Zoro, and while he’s fucking pissed he came first it’s satisfying to watch as Zoro comes after.
He milks himself dry in Sanji, gently lowering his legs back to the ground, sweat dripping from his brow onto Sanji’s chest.
Then Zoro, bastard that he is, collapses forward onto Sanji’s chest. He barely bothers to take himself out. Sanji pets the nap of Zoro’s neck, and it suddenly feels way too intimate. He can’t have that. He’s had enough revelations for one fucking evening.
He tries to gather his thoughts on absolutely anything. “I can’t believe you sucked yourself off,” Sanji says, still caught up about it.
Zoro huffs, breath warm on Sanji’s shoulder. “Like you wouldn’t given the chance, pervert-cook–”
“Of course I wouldn’t! You’re so fucking weird.”
Sanji swipes his thumb at the base of Zoro’s neck, and he practically purrs. “You weren’t complaining when you were watching,” he mutters.
There’s a million retorts on the tip of his tongue. Sanji looks up blearily at the galley ceiling. “It was hot,” he admits instead.
Zoro laughs into his shoulder, his full chest shaking against Sanji.
“Don’t let it get to your head.”
One Zoro’s enough. …probably.