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“I think you flirt with girls just to piss me off,” Zoro growled like a feral animal, his large, calloused hands pressing Sanji against the closed door on the Thousand Sunny’s deck.
Roronoa Zoro was not a jealous man. Truly, he was not. He trusted Sanji with his life and the lives of all their crew, he trusted Sanji to never go jaunting around town, fucking the first person who smiled at him. He’d trust Sanji with any possibility the universe could throw at him.
Some part of that had to do with the fact that every place they went, new cities, towns, islands, countries, everyone with eyes noticed Sanji only had eyes for Zoro, and no one wanted to go up against someone twice their size with three swords.
Thankfully.
So, simple jealousy was not what drove him to shove Sanji around on the deck like he weighed nothing. No, it was a sudden, fierce possession; it consumed him from the ground up, igniting a fire in his chest and along his skin, so scorching, he thought it may burn him alive.
The flames started the moment he saw Sanji, in the dim lights of the street lamps amidst the rampant parade for some holiday Zoro didn’t recognize, surrounded by women with drinks in their hands. One particularly pretty one with trailing, curly hair had her arm wrapped around Sanji’s shoulders, swaying in time with music flooding from open windows and live bands.
And Sanji looked as though he were eating every second up, laughing, dancing, swaying women around by their slim hips. It didn’t help things that he’d decided to wear that stupid fucking tight red suit, the single outfit that made Zoro want to eat him alive, from the inside out, and his hair looked windswept and messy as he danced.
One woman even wrote something on a little piece of paper and shoved it into Sanji's jacket pocket, along with her pen.
Which... did not feel great, he had to admit, but he felt no anger for her.
Any woman with working eyes would be drawn to him, Zoro hardly blamed the village women; they were just reacting the same way he would, if his crew weren’t watching.
The jealousy wasn’t the issue, it was the fact that no one knew Sanji belonged to him.
And that he suspected Sanji did these things on purpose.
Zoro leaned forward, draping his entire shadow over Sanji, pressing him further into the wood.
Sanji tilted his head, hands coming up to cling into Zoro’s open shirt. He peered up at him through long, way too long, lashes, hair still messy and windswept, leather gloves scraping along Zoro’s clothing. His eyes were hooded, cheeks flushed in the cool night air.
He looked good enough to eat.
“I don’t know what you mean,” he whispered, a little fire of his own beneath his tone.
Ohhh, an attitude, huh? He’d make him regret that.
With a dip of his head, Zoro pressed their mouths together, just barely, teasing at the whisper of a kiss, finally tasting him after a long night torn apart by other women and Luffy and Usopp having a little too much fun, and him being a bodyguard for Robin and Nami as they drank. The faint flavor of alcohol hit his tongue, different than the sweetness he usually supped from his mouth.
He hummed and dragged his teeth away from Sanji’s mouth, instead dragging canines along the hard curve of Sanji’s jaw, hard enough to scrape a flushed, red line across the pale skin. The sight stirred something deep in his chest, something that poured oil onto the already raging flames.
“Fuck,” Sanji gasped, and Zoro reached for his slim hips, holding him firm against the door as he thrust his own forward, and felt another thrill at the feeling of the responding erection awaiting him within that infuriating maroon suit. Though they’d only been together for a mere few moments, his lover already felt rock hard. Just from the attention.
Just from him, and his possessiveness.
Zoro smiled smugly against Sanji’s throat. He wanted to tease him about it, but feared Sanji would shove him away and deny him if he pushed him too far, and he had far too much planned tonight to make himself feel better, he dare not risk it.
So, he left a variable army of open-mouthed kisses across the sensitive skin of his neck, just above his collar bone, nipping here and there at the skin, hoping to leave marks and bruises for everyone to see. Sweat and the smell of various perfumes still lingered on the skin, but it still tasted enough like Sanji that it felt electric and fierce just below his skin, good to taste him and lap him up.
Slow and steady.
In their time sleeping together, Sanji, Zoro had discovered, loved the uncertain suspense of his touch. The build up, the anticipation, the slow burn until he fell apart in the calloused, unyielding hands of a swordsman who knew far too well how to hone something down to the sharpest edge without allowing it to break.
For all he knew Sanji fought for his own right to control his life, he forfeited it without hesitation to Zoro, willingly surrendering to his lover with batting lashes and begging whispers.
No one else… would ever get to see that part of him, if Zoro had any control over it.
“Zoro-”
He relished the desperate whine of his name, burying himself inside that pleasure and allowing it to burn. A few more sounds like that, and he didn’t know how long he’d be able to hold back from taking a bite.
“We should-” Zoro managed to gruff out, though his voice was little more than a growl. “We should get somewhere-”
Sanji grumbled what might have been an agreement, if not for the way his fingers caught desperately in the hem of Zoro’s shirt. “Not the Crow’s Nest, I don’t think I can wait that long.”
It took every shred of willpower to not completely engulf. “No Crow’s Nest,” he echoed, “I’m just asking for somewhere the riffraff won’t find us.” The riffraff, in this case, being the prying, all knowing eyes of the girls and Usopp, the latter being far too smart at picking up on subtle clues than most people gave him credit for.
Tilting his head toward the night sky, the moonlight shining along the delicate, royal cheekbones and jawline of his beautiful face, Sanji seemed to ponder this for a moment. While Zoro did nothing to help the situation and just stared at his face as though attempting to commit it to memory, remember how good he looked after a day of drinking and festivities, windswept by the harsh breeze of the seas and multiple hands touching him.
If it were the last sight his good eye ever saw, it would be worth it.
“What about the pantry?” Sanji finally whispered, running fingers along exposed skin. He reveled in the feeling of leather tugging along his chest, he wondered what those gloves would feel like gripping something a little lower…
Pantry. Yeah. That was probably for the best. It was close, much less walking, he’d be able to see Sanji naked much faster.
Perfect.
Zoro lifted a hand from Sanji’s hips and slowly swept aside the golden bangs falling along his eyes, before slipping backwards just a little to wind his hands into the nape of his neck, giving a hard, firm tug.
“You better get me there, now, pretty boy.”
A little shiver coursed through Sanji’s body, he felt it thrumming against his own, but Sanji followed the command easy, like it came second nature to obey him. Which was… way hotter than Zoro cared to admit, but he managed to bite that down for a later date.
It felt like true, genuine agony to allow Sanji out from under his touch for the time it took them to stumble through the swinging kitchen door, Sanji muttering something to himself, perhaps saying sorry to the room, it sounded like, and across the tiled floor to the wooden door along the very back wall.
Sanji threw the door open fast and clicked on a light inside, blinding Zoro for a split second after being out in darkness for the entire evening. He had but a moment to glance around at the barrels and boxes precariously stacked here and there, some neatly, others a little more haphazard; he didn’t think he’d ever been in this room for more than a second to throw something heavy in there for someone else, and they’d certainly never done anything together there, typically opting for the privacy of the Crow’s Nest.
Zoro did give a little twist, though, with that thought, and clicked the lock on the door shut behind him. It only took perhaps a single heartbeat to do so, but by the time he turned back around, he found something altogether intoxicating awaiting him.
Sanji was already perching himself along the top of a barrel, long legs spread wide, leaning backwards in a cat like lithe pose, wearing a smirk as he fussed with pulling his tie away from his throat. He watched him kick off one dress shoe, and then the other, sending them flying across the pantry.
Zoro still wore all the pieces and parts of his now infuriating outfit, far too clothed than he wanted to be at the sight sitting before him. He reached to grab the hem of his own shirt to tear it off, closing the gap between them in two long strides, impatience thrumming beneath his skin so loudly, it buzzed in his ears.
But, his hands were interrupted by Sanji’s softer, broad, experienced fingers, stilling him in his pursuit to rid himself of every single clothing piece in this room. He glanced down at the smaller form on the barrel, curious as to what the fuck he thought he was doing prolonging this, but Sanji lifted his leather clad gloves to Zoro’s face.
His fingertips slid along his jawline, coming to rest on either side of his face in a gentle, caressing cradle. And he continued holding him, as soft as though he held something precious, as he rose from the barrel’s edge and leaned up to kiss him.
Zoro groaned low in his throat before his lips even made contact, the mere promise of it enough to drive him imagination and the stirring of his cock still trapped in his jeans. It was so chaste, so soft, so passionate, but not enough. Not nearly enough, and altogether all too much for Zoro to handle tonight.
Grunting, Zoro moved to take a step, to press them closer together, trap him atop the surface, but Sanji was languid and smooth, and moved with him, gripping him by the belt loops of his pants and twisting them around until Zoro found himself sandwiched between the barrel and his lover.
Sanji pulled away from the kiss, just far enough that Zoro tried to chase after him, but Sanji ducked out of his grasp.
Pissed, horny, and pissed, Zoro opened his mouth. “What are you-”
“Shhhh.”
Only to have a gloved finger gently press against his lips.
Sanji absolutely grinned at him, all pearly white teeth and high cheekbones, and slowly dropped to his knees on the pantry floor.
Zoro almost instinctively reached for him, to stop him, but Sanji stilled him with just a simple, piercing look that struck his soul.
“Hands on the barrel, handsome.”
Zoro’s dick twitched as he obeyed, settling large fingers along the rounded edge behind him. This wasn’t what the itch and flames in him demanded, it wasn’t what he felt just under his skin, a thrumming need alongside his heartbeat, but he trusted Sanji, trusted the glint in his All Blue eyes, and trusted the touch of his hands against the button of his jeans.
Though, he still moved impatiently against him, shifting on his feet while he watched Sanji’s gaze slowly trail lower, to his crotch. The part of him he knew had to be visible despite the clothing hiding it. There wasn’t much way to hide an erection like this.
“Ohh, hello.” Sanji trailed a finger along the shape of his cock. The feeling made Zoro press his fingers sharply into the wood beneath his hands. “You really are worked up, huh?”
“‘Course I fucking am,” Zoro swore. “I hate seein’ you flirting with other people. I won’t let them fuckin’ have you.”
Sanji peered up at him for just a moment, just a flash of blue and gold and he held an expression that Zoro couldn’t quite place, an emotion foreign on that beautiful face. The moment, though, vanished just as fast as it came, and Sanji renewed his movements, but this time with enough fervor that Zoro felt himself getting amped up all over again.
Those nimble fingers snapped the buttons of his jeans apart, before leather finally touched sensitive skin as he slowly, so agonizingly slowly, pulled his heavy cock free. The material felt good, weird, but good, just like he’d hoped. It tugged and pulled, hurt just right as Sanji wrapped his hand along the hard flesh.
“Now,” Sanji whispered, the breath of his words teasing the aching head of his cock, “give me your hand.”
Zoro frowned, hesitated, so Sanji rolled his eyes and grabbed his wrist with his free hand, and drew it to his hair. He didn’t say a word in response, and wound his hands into his hair, slipping fingers into that messy hair again - though, he had no idea why, but he wouldn’t question something as good as this.
He gave a little tug of the silky strands, and watched the way Sanji’s eyes rolled back in his head for a split second, lips parting.
Gods be damned, he looked amazing .
“I’m yours,” Sanji suddenly insisted, an oath written in the air, and then his open mouth closed around Zoro’s cock, hot and slick and so much, way too fast - it was all Zoro could do to hold onto the barrel’s edge. In fact, he gripped so tightly at the sudden lock of his favorite mouth, watching his lips stretch wide around his girthy erection, that he distinctly heard the sound of wood cracking beneath his strong grip.
Oops .
He’d fix that later.
He waited a moment for Sanji to continue, or instruct him further, watching the way he held himself completely still with his cock on his mouth, on his knees, dirtying his fancy little suit.
Then, it clicked.
He understood what Sanji wanted him to do.
Dragging in a ragged breath, he tightly wound his fingers into Sanji’s hair, holding him straight and still. Finally .
It was on the first full thrust into that awaiting, warm mouth that Zoro felt the surge of power, of belonging, of possession. They had done this before, of course, Zoro fucking into Sanji’s mouth, but never had it been accompanied by this need, this drive to possess, to claim him until everyone knew Sanji belonged him. During other times, his grip in Sanji’s hair had been loose enough not to hurt, his thrusts controlled and measured not to choke.
This was different.
This was rough, and hard, and Zoro growled at the wet, tight sound of Sanji’s stuttered breath as he struggled to breathe and swallow around the huge cock. He gave no chance for Sanji to attempt to pull away or ease the fucking, but Sanji took it so wholly, eagerly. His eyes were open, and wide, tears brimming along his eyelashes, as his throat kept closing instinctively, tightening sharply on each thrust and pull.
I’m yours, he’d said, and Zoro wanted to make sure he remembered that.
He craved to carve a space out within Sanji, his throat, his body, wherever he could reach, that no one else would be able to fill the same way. He wanted Sanji to feel as though he were missing something if he wasn’t there, fucking into him and making him complete. He wanted… God, he wanted-
He pulled out abruptly, leaving Sanji a gaping, drooling mess before him, a line of spit and precum drawing from his lips to the head of Zoro’s cock. Tears now slipped down his cheeks, face flushes, lips swollen.
Zoro refused to cum yet.
He did not want to cum yet.
He was tempted to, to lay his claim, covering Sanji’s face with his seed.
But, there existed better ways of doing that.
Grabbing the collar of his suit jacket, Zoro yanked Sanji up from the floor and slammed their mouths together. Lips mixed with spit and the taste of himself on Sanji’s tongue, bitter. Moaning a sweet little sound, Sanji wrapped his arms around Zoro’s shoulders, and he felt the soft trembling of his body, the knocking of his knees as he apparently struggled to stand with his own strength.
Zoro felt his own knees go a little weak when he reached between them and slotted his fingers along the hard line of Sanji’s own throbbing erection.
The mere touch made Sanji tilt his head back, gasping. “Please,” he begged, voice cracking.
It was a sound Zoro knew well, one that he relished in.
Zoro hummed. “Please what?”
Hands tightened against his shoulders. “Make me yours.”
Zoro had grown used to waiting during their escapades, to holding it off until neither of them could stand it any longer, and their desire threatened to consume them whole, but in that second, neither of them seemed to have the strength. Their touches turned into a race, grappling for one another, hands ripping at shirts and nipping at throats, and Zoro yanking Sanji’s dress pants off messily, tossing them somewhere over his shoulder.
He grabbed him by his hips and lifted him onto the now slightly fractured barrel, before pressing himself against him, his arm snaking around the warm expanse of his back. His fingertips bumped along scars he knew were there, scars he’d traced with his lips some nights, memorized so he’d know who he needed to kill if they ever showed their faces around him.
His family. Villains. Government. They’d all tried to lay claim to Sanji, and Sanji, on his own, by his own strength and bravery, had fought against them for every freedom he’d earned. Zoro would not let them call him theirs again for as long as he had enough life left to raise a sword against them.
Again, a small voice in the back of his skull whispered, sing-song like, “Make me yours.”
After everything he’d been through, after forming his own life with his bare hands and making sure no one could claim him the way his family and Big Mom attempted to, why did he so easily say those words to Zoro? Why did he willingly give up so much of himself to lay in bed with a man he claimed to hate once the sun rose on the horizon?
It made no sense, and it always scared Zoro that one day, he’d realize this. He’d understand the words he was saying and what they meant in the grand scheme of things, and take it all back, leaving Zoro a mere husk of his former self without him.
He prayed that day never came.
Silencing the irritating little thoughts, he gripped Sanji’s smooth thigh between a massive hand and lifted, delicately placing it over his shoulder. The weight felt good, grounded him, reminded him that if Sanji didn’t want Zoro, if he didn’t want to… belong to him, he was strong enough to fight back and say the words.
If he were saying this, if he were allowing Zoro to claim him like a piece of treasure, then that was what Sanji wanted.
Period. No further questions.
Sanji did not mince words. Sanji was truthful and trustworthy and always said what he meant.
If Sanji said something, aloud, no matter if it were in the throes of sex, he meant it.
And that meant…
Zoro frantically spat along his fingers, his entire hand trembling. Fuck, he was barely keeping it together this time - it had never, ever been like this. Not in the hundred times they’d fucked. The desperation and fire felt like nothing else Zoro had experienced.
It drove him mad.
Zoro peered down at Sanji’s spread legs, the curve of his muscular ass jutting out along the wooden edge. His hard, pink cock curved against his stomach, leaving a trail of wetness behind along his abs. He licked his lips, wishing he had enough time to taste, but that could come later.
He steeled himself and slowly pressed two slicked fingers into his awaiting body. Sanji’s head lolled back, eyes drifting closed, his only sounds incoherent and wanting.
Zoro was rough as he prepared him, but careful, as always, reading Sanji’s body like a familiar book in the ship’s library. He knew each twitch and tremble and shake, and exactly what they meant. He also knew when Sanji’s brows furrowed and his mouth became a pursed little shape, that he was fully prepared to be fucked and entirely over getting prepped, though they both knew Sanji needed it because Zoro’s erection was no small feat to take.
That frustration showed across Sanji’s pretty face, letting his head tilted sideways so his cheek rested on his own shoulder.
Zoro slipped in a third finger, this one dry so it caught with what he knew to be a little pain, and he watched the resounding flicker along Sanji’s face. His jaw tensed and he bit down on his bottom lip, and he whined.
Simply whined, back arching, and pressed his body further forward in frustration to try and get more inside. So impatient. So easily frustrated.
“I’ll fuck you when you’re good and ready,” Zoro huffed. “And not one single moment before.”
A protest died on Sanji’s lips, eyes slowly opening to reveal a watery blue gaze, and Zoro fought against the sudden urge to rut against him like an animal until they both came.
“Mmm, d’ ya know why, Sanji? You know why I won’t fuck you until I say so?”
Zoro’s fingers continued driving into him sharply, a little faster, a little deeper, a shudder rippling through Sanji’s body in response. His response turned into a whine, stretched and forced from the back of his throat.
“Because I’m yours,” Sanji repeated, this time every single word on purpose, on fire, and real .
Not even the voices in Zoro’s head could argue against that.
Zoro pulled his fingers out and spat once again in the palm of his hand, slicking himself up hastily. Before Sanji could utter a complaint, he pressed into him, probably faster than he should have, fully seating himself as deep as Sanji could take him. The white hot tightness enveloped him, squeezing him tightly, almost making his vision black out.
Sanji gasped, a high pitched noise, and one hand flew up to grab Zoro’s shoulder with bruising intensity while the other grabbed at the chest of his dress jacket, rustling the paper and pen the pretty woman had left behind.
“Stop,” Sanji sobbed, and Zoro froze, stilling every single possible movement. “I’m - stop, or I’ll cum, I - I’m-” He moaned raggedly like he’d been kicked in the stomach, and the hand holding the pocket of his jacket slipped down to grip his leaking cock hard, squeezing the base to apparently stave off his building orgasm.
Obviously, he wanted this to last much longer.
The thought made Zoro shudder, but he obliged and obeyed. Holding himself still and steady while Sanji collected his breath. Perhaps… he’d gone a little too hard on him, he did like the slow burn of it all, Zoro very rarely went this fast and strong and heavy on his lover. So maybe it was just a little too much for him.
But, he couldn’t help himself, especially with another woman’s information and pen staring him directly in the face.
Sanji barely reacted as Zoro grabbed the pen from his pocket and regarded it with a measure of irritation. It was pretty, a fancy thing of marbled pinks and blues, with a strange, soft bristled head that looked like a paintbrush. The ink, though, shined pitch black in the lights.
Hmmm.
Zoro slipped the edge of the pen between his teeth, holding it tightly. Thankfully, Sanji was still breathing heavily with his eyes closed, so he wouldn’t get suspicious when Zoro began slowly tracing idle patterns with his fingertips along the beauty of Sanji’s exposed thigh, the one not currently hiked over his shoulder.
Sanji shivered beneath him at the soft touch, none the wiser.
Good.
Quickly grabbing the pen from between his teeth, he lowered it to the unmarred skin beneath his fingertips. He slowly traced a single line with the dark ink, one with a small curve to the bottom edge, a simple, soothing motion as to not draw the ire of Sanji for defacing his skin.
He wasn’t done, though, and continued as softly as he could. Another line, through the top, followed by a slanted, curving symbol to the left. A swish of black here like a lattice to connect the entire thing together.
It had been years since he wrote this symbol.
And it felt good to have this be it’s return.
Sanji beneath him hummed his approval. He must have merely thought Zoro couldn’t keep his hands off of him, because he sighed gently, chest relaxing, hand releasing his erection. His eyes fluttered open just a moment later, though, and his gaze snapped down to his thigh.
His gaze widened, eyebrows lifting. “What are you doing-”
Zoro cut him off with a quick, sharp thrust that almost pushed the entire barrel over, but he tossed the pen aside with a clatter and caught Sanji by his lower back to keep him upright.
“My name,” Zoro managed, fucking into Sanji so hard, the sound of skin slapping filled and echoed along the pantry’s walls. “That’s how - fuck, that’s how my name is written back in my village. It’s my name.”
He still had black ink on his fingers, and he tried not to notice the way he was leaving thumbprints all along the pale skin around his writing. It was beautiful.
“Y - your… name?” Sanji moaned, tossing his head back.
Even after struggling to hold himself back, it was obvious Sanji was still close, the writing tipping him over the edge. Zoro only needed to reach down and wrap a strong, ink slick hand around his cock, stroking him hard in rhythm with his violent thrusts until Sanji’s jolting body almost did the entirety of the work for him. It only took a number of fast, frantic jerks, and Sanji came hard and messy into Zoro’s hand.
Sanji cried out Zoro’s name, hopefully loud enough for the entire island to hear.
His body tightened sharply as did so, though, clamping down around Zoro’s cock so suddenly, it tipped him fast over the edge, too. He came hard, shoving his face into Sanji’s calf to breathe his way through it, it caught him so completely off guard.
Typically, it took much longer than that to get him to break.
Tonight was just full of surprises.
“Fuck,” Sanji cried, squirming back against Zoro’s cock, both sensitive, twitching, spilling everywhere. His own erection had yet to flag as he slid himself from Sanji’s body - the same one currently following him again, trying to get more still.
“Mmmm, I see,” Zoro muttered gently, soothing.
He had to admit, he’d never seen Sanji so needy and desperate before. He wondered if it had something to do with the violently dark ink on his thigh…
But, who was he to deny him? Zoro reached down with gentle fingers, teasing at his entrance, picking up thick trails of his own cum.
Sanji truly had been marked his, inside and out, and though temporarily, he couldn’t deny the feeling that gave him in the pit of his stomach.
“Wanna stay like this,” Sanji whispered, huffing through strained breaths.
Zoro’s dick twitched with halfhearted interest. Yeah, yeah, he agreed. He wanted to keep Sanji here, marked and owned and his, but that was for them, for the Crow’s Nest, or sometimes, the food storage room - and no one else.
“I won’t let anyone else have you,” he promised, drawing his fingers in and out of Sanji, cum slicked and fucked out.
Sanji sobbed and choked, his hands gripping at the edge of the now broken barrel. He was still hard, still leaking against his stomach, leaving marks on glossy pink skin.
“Sanji,” Zoro hissed, pounding his fingers deep inside him. “You are mine.”
His words and fingers must have been just enough because Sanji shuddered and spilled again, coming with a near silent gasp and tearful eyes, staring down at the mark along his thigh like he couldn’t tear his gaze from it.
The bliss filled blanket of haze, though, didn’t last long as he came back to himself, gaze never leaving his own thigh.
“Sorry,” Zoro whispered, “I - uh - got caught up, I think-”
“Pffftttt,” Sanji scoffed, but he ran a finger along the messy lines. “You may as well have written Property of Zoro on my forehead.”
Zoro laughed for the first time all night.
By the time the others boarded the ship again, half of them drunk, the other half leaning on each other after partying for hours, the sign of his name was hidden beneath clean clothes.
No one said a word about the shoes strewn around the pantry, or the broken barrel with very distinct finger marks.
And, a couple weeks later, if the crew noticed a brand new, permanent tattoo on Sanji’s thigh each time he wore shorts during hot weather, they said not a word, either.