Chapter Text
The sound of his knife hitting the cutting board rapidly is the only sound that can be heard above the murmur of a busy kitchen. A hiss sounds when water hits a heating pan, a clattering noise booms when two pans hit each other, and the swish of plates being moved around is constant.
Sanji empties his combination of carrots, peas, and corn into the heated skillet and instantly moves to grab the green onions. He’s done with them before the carrots are cooked and is forced to pause. A waiter comes in, grabs his plates, and is out just as quickly.
It takes about two minutes for the vegetables to become tender enough for Sanji to add the rice and soy sauce mixture. He sprinkles the top with green onions, stirs until well-combined and heated through, and then tops it with perfectly seasoned shrimps. He sprinkles a bit more green onions on top for garnish and then pauses.
His mind slowly comes out of autopilot and regular thought process commences as the slightly spicy aroma of his shrimp fried rice arises.
Zoro is here. In his restaurant, currently seated on a table with Chopper. Sanji hasn’t spoken but a few words to him, just said enough to ask him if he was hungry, and quickly ran to the kitchen. His heart is still beating rapidly, a steady fluttering that pumps his blood and heats his cheeks.
He swallows hard. He can’t hide in the kitchen forever. And why would he even want to? Zoro is here! This is…this is good news, right? He came to Raftel, not to East Blue. He had no way of knowing that Chopper is now living with Sanji, so that means he came back to him, right? He came back to see Sanji.
He quickly slips off his apron and fixes his shirt. He’s not wearing the usual suit today since it is freaking hot outside, but his clothes are still on the more formal side. He fixes his hair minimally and gives himself a discreet sniff—he doesn’t smell like seafood, just like cigarettes. But it’s not like he can do anything about that, and the scent is not too strong.
Shit, why is he even worried? It’s just Zoro! Yeah, he hasn’t seen the man in two years, but it’s Zoro—the same ill-mannered, directionless bastard that doesn’t give two shits about his own appearance, much less the appearance of others.
He grabs the plate of rice and makes his way back to the dining floor. He can’t stop himself from stopping by the bar and grabbing a bottle of sake before he heads to where Zoro and Chopper are seated.
As he nears, he can hear Chopper talking rapidly about his medicinal studies and smiles. Zoro has the same expression of confusion, amusement, and pride that Sanji feels whenever he hears Chopper talk about his work.
“You haven’t taken a bite of your sandwich,” Sanji tells Chopper reproachfully, and sets the steaming plate of shrimp fried rice in front of Zoro. “Here you go, marimo.”
“You cannot believe how much I missed your food, love cook,” Zoro sighs and proceeds to practically inhale the food, only stopping every once in a while to take a swallow of drink.
Sanji makes a face at the display, though he cannot help but feel pleased at the obvious enjoyment Zoro is taking of his food. “You’re still as gross as ever, I see.”
“I’ve eaten nothing but canned food and dried meat for two years…heck, I even went nine months without alcohol. I deserve this,” Zoro snaps, pointing at Sanji with his fork angrily.
“Really, Dad?” Chopper asks excitedly. “Nine whole months?”
Zoro makes a face and takes a long drink. Sanji watches the stretch of his tanned neck, growing warmer when he sees the bob of his Adam’s apple.
Even if Zoro hasn’t changed much personality wise, his physic is totally different. He has grown taller than Sanji, even if it's just the smallest difference. When before, he used to have a similar built as Sanji, he’s now much…bigger. From his broad shoulders to the mouth-watering thickness of his muscles. His chest is thicker, stretching the poor shirt he is wearing to its limits, and gradually tapers down to a narrow waist. He’s lost the childish wickedness of his face and instead now sports the roughness and hard edge of someone dangerous. He carries himself differently now, too—a silent confidence, a raw strength and terrible power that makes the hair on the back of Sanji’s neck stand on end and his body shift in pre-fight mode. He’s filled out more, too, looks older despite his clean-shaven face, and not even the scar that renders his left eye useless is enough to take away from his unusual attractiveness.
Sanji never thought he would feel attracted to the serial killer look, but look at him now—Zoro’s dark eye turns to him, a knowing smirk on his face, and the heat spreads to lower regions.
Yup, definitely still very much attracted to Zoro. Hot damn, he didn’t think Zoro could get any hotter, but he’s so fucking glad he’s been proven wrong.
“Oh my god! Zoro!”
Sanji startles at the happy exclamation. They all look up just in time to see Nami rush forward and hug Zoro tightly. Sanji feels a spark of jealousy when her large breasts press against his face, but whether he’s jealous of Zoro or Nami, he isn’t too sure.
“I can’t believe you’re here!” Nami exclaims, letting go of Zoro to look at him. “Look at you! What happened to your eye? And your hair is longer! And you’re so much taller now!”
“Nami? What are you doing here?” Zoro asks, frowning when the red-head sits down next to Chopper.
“I work for Sanji,” Nami answers, grinning. “Vivi and I moved to Raftel a couple of weeks after Sanji. Robin and Franky and the twins live here too.”
“The twins?”
“Oh! You don’t know!” Chopper exclaims excitedly. “Robin and Franky had twins! Tom and Oliver; they were born on October!”
“It’s pretty weird to think of her as a mother,” Zoro says thoughtfully.
“Yeah, she’s a lot nicer now,” Nami smiles. “Motherhood suits her well.”
“Everything suits Robin well,” Sanji automatically says and Zoro snorts. “Something funny, marimo?” he snaps, feeling a familiar flare of annoyance spark. Shit, he’d forgotten how irritating Zoro can be.
“Nothing, pervert cook.”
“Who the hell you’re calling pervert?”
“Wow, stupid too. You’re the only cook here, swirly.”
“Eh!? I’ll kick your shitty ass, shitty swordsman!”
“Why don’t you try it, crap cook!”
“Ha! Didn’t you say you missed my food? Who’s the crap cook now!?”
“Any crap is better than Perona’s crap!”
“Guys!”
Sanji is startled by Nami’s shout. It takes him a moment to realize he and Zoro are standing up, hands twisted in each other’s shirts as they scream at each other’s faces. The whole restaurant is quiet, shocked by the spectacle. Sanji has his leg half-raised and Zoro has a hand on one of his swords, the glint of steel barely visible.
“Tch. I’m not gonna destroy my restaurant fighting you,” Sanji scoffs and lets go of Zoro. It’s been a while since he’s gotten this worked up…actually, the last time he was this angry, it was because of Zoro, too. He really knows just how to push Sanji’s buttons. Not even Luffy can get him this agitated, and that’s saying something.
“Sheesh, you two still fight like cats and dogs,” Nami sighs, dragging Zoro down to his seat when he doesn’t do it himself.
Zoro scoffs and crosses his arms. “Shit cook started it.”
“Did not!”
“Enough!” Nami snaps quickly, before the argument can escalate again. “Sanji, this week’s paychecks are on your desk. Why don’t you go sign them so I can pass them out tonight?”
“Yes, Nami-swan,” Sanji says with dry enthusiasm. He glares at Zoro, blaming him for Nami’s anger, and leaves. He knows Nami is dismissing so he can cool down. He doesn’t even know why he’s so angry—well, that’s not true. Zoro makes him angry. But he’s happy, too. He ignores the questioning look some of his cooks send him and walks to the back towards his office.
He doesn’t want to fight with Zoro. He just wants to enjoy him being back. He wants to know if they can start where they left off. He hasn’t been able to forget about him, and he wants to know if Zoro feels the same way. There’s a reason why he came here, right? He could have gone back to East Blue, or he could have left as soon as he saw Chopper, but he didn’t.
Does Zoro want him back?
He grabs a pen from his desk and stares at the stack of paychecks thoughtfully. Should he…should he go back and try to smooth things out? Or should he wait until Zoro cools off? Though, he doubts Zoro even needs to cool off. Yeah, they fight often, but they’re just silly arguments. They don’t hold grudges. Shit, they’ve even argued while having sex!
He just needs to sign these papers, head back, and resume normally. Maybe offer to show Zoro around, invite him over to his home, and then bridge over to their relationship. That’s what adults do, anyway. They communicate. And Sanji is fucking twenty-nine, he can act like an adult.
With the decision made, he quickly signs off the paychecks, but before he can stride out, the door opens.
Sanji freezes and stares at Zoro.
“Sanji, I….” Zoro’s voice dies out. His eye is wide, startled, and his cheeks are quickly blooming with embarrassment. The color spreads to the very tips of his ears, and suddenly he looks so achingly familiar that Sanji acts without thinking.
It’s just a press of lips. The barest brush of soft skin, not enough to really feel anything but Zoro’s warm breath.
But it’s enough to make Sanji feel like his heart is in his throat. His lips tingle, his skin flushes, his heart soars, and his eyes search Zoro’s, looking for the barest sign that he feels the same.
He doesn’t know who moves first, but suddenly they’re practically devouring each other. Sanji feels Zoro’s large hands grab his hair and hold him close, and his own arms go around Zoro’s wide shoulders and grasp at the skin there.
He tastes like whiskey and steel, oaky and smoky, something purely masculine and heart-wrenchingly familiar. He tastes like early mornings and soft words. He tastes like embers burning and warm comfort.
Sanji tilts his head up to deepen the kiss and feels something hard press against his back. His mind somehow computes the fact that he’s being pushed against his desk, but it doesn’t matter. Zoro’s hard chest is pressed against his own, and Sanji can feel his heat seeping into his own skin. Zoro’s heart is beating just as fast as Sanji’s, and if his breath stutters for every few seconds they part, Sanji can feel that, too.
Calloused hands—possessive and strong—move from his hair, down his back, grip his waist, pull on his legs. He hears the sound of something clattering on the ground, but he’s too distracted by the feel of Zoro’s hot lips moving from his mouth to his neck, where he sucks a dark bruise that leaves him panting.
Zoro lifts him to place him down on the desk—it’s now cleared, all of its contents thrown on the floor—and Sanji wraps his legs around him. His hands explore the smooth stretch of skin revealed when he pulls on Zoro’s shirt. His fingers are eager to explore this body again, to map and memorize every dip and edge, every curve and new scar. Zoro pulls away for just a moment, but Sanji can’t reproach him when he sees him pull his shirt over his head.
His mouth waters at the glorious sight, his eyes following the sensual shift of every hard-worked muscle. He whines low on this throat as his fingers graze over the sharp V-cut that points to Zoro’s hardness, but Zoro pushes him back and tugs on his shirt before he can do anything to alleviate Zoro’s need.
His own shirt is just as hurriedly discarded and then there is the glorious press of skin against skin. Sanji moans and Zoro licks the sound from his throat, his teeth dragging over the bob of his Adam’s apple. His hands burn a trail everywhere he touches, and Sanji hopes he can mark Zoro as thoroughly as Zoro is marking him. The sensitive pads of his fingers lovingly find every rugged inch of skin and his own body mirrors the tremor that runs through Zoro’s body.
“Sanji.”
He moans at the sound of his own name whispered against his skin, husky and broken. Zoro’s tongue laps at the hollow between his collarbones, his hot breath causing goose bumps to spread over Sanji’s skin. His fingers find Zoro’s hard nipples and he tugs at them softly. The action only makes Zoro’s hips jerk forward, and Sanji is rewarded with the hot press of Zoro’s hardness against his own.
Suddenly, the door slams open and Sanji and Zoro jump apart.
“Really?” Nami groans. She massages her temples with one hand and shakes her head in heavy disappointment. “I leave you guys for five minutes, and you’re already dry-humping like teenagers!”
Sanji blushes at the same moment he realizes his naked from the waist up, his chest slick with Zoro’s saliva. The way the cold air dries is only making his nipples hard—and he really shouldn’t be worried about his nipples being hard when his pants are very obviously tented.
Zoro mutters something undiscernible and runs his hands through his messy hair—an action that looks so much sexier when his hair is this long.
“I’m sorry, Nami-swan,” Sanji says, wincing when his voice comes out heavy and hoarse. Zoro turns to him, eye dark and wanting, and even Nami blushes delicately.
“That’s…just finish this somewhere else,” she mutters. “I’ll cover for you.”
“Please tell me you live nearby,” Zoro says, his voice almost pleading as he looks at Sanji.
“Ten minutes. Tops,” Sanji answers. Zoro grins and before he knows it, Sanji is being dragged outside and through the back door. He’s momentarily flustered by his half-nakedness, but he quickly shrugs it off and orders Zoro in the right direction.
If asked later on how he made it home, Sanji will not know how to answer. All he knows is that Zoro’s mouth is a godsend against his skin. He has enough mind to push Zoro off and open his front door, but as soon as the door closes behind him, he’s all over the other man.
His mouth hungrily searches Zoro’s lips, tasting that amazing combination of bottled virility that electrifies his every nerve-end and robs him of all rational thought. His eyes roll when he Zoro’s tongue licks at the roof of his mouth, when his blunt nails rake down his sides then slide over his waist to grab his ass and pull him closer.
This feels completely different from all of the times he’s been with Zoro. The man exudes power and confidence, and unshakable sureness of his every movement and caress that burns through Sanji’s consciousness and only leaves the thought of more. There is hunger and absolute want in every action, like Zoro is drowning and Sanji is his every breath. He’s drunk on Zoro’s unadulterated craving, high on the thought that he’s the one making this normally disciplined and stoic man shake in pleasure, moan in need.
There is nothing that matters in this moment but Zoro. The steely and salty taste of his skin, the callous of his fingers as they grope at his sensitive skin, the heady scent that fills his lungs and makes them twist in hunger in a way nicotine never could. This is his nicotine rush, his bread and water, his Rock of Gibraltar.
How he ever went two years without this, he will never know.
Sanji moves from the hollow underneath Zoro’s heavenly jaw line to lick at his pierced ear, feeling inanely pleased that Zoro still wears the earrings he gifted him. The sound that escapes Zoro’s throat leaves him shaken, and he practically drags the man to his bedroom and pushes him down on the bed.
“Take these off,” Sanji groans, tugging on Zoro’s pants.
“Yours, too,” Zoro says, quickly working his pants off. Sanji copies him hurriedly, practically ripping his belt off in his haste to get naked and join Zoro on the bed.
He had worried that he wouldn’t get to see this image again, Zoro panting and hard on his bed.
The first sinful grind exquisite. They’re both already hard and dripping wet, and they fit so perfectly well together than when Sanji sinks down on top of Zoro and rubs his cock against his, the drag sends shocks of pleasure to ever nerve end in his body.
“Fucking missed this,” Zoro grunts, nipping at Sanji’s shoulders, his grip bruising around Sanji’s waist. “Missed you.”
“Zoro,” Sanji murmurs, pulling on Zoro’s hair to bring him up and licks his lips. His whole body is sensitized to Zoro’s touch, his skin itching to be felt. “I want you,” he groans, rubbing the wet tip of his cock in the dip of Zoro’s groin. His breath falters when Zoro suddenly flips them over and holds him down. He automatically tries to push back and get on top, but Zoro is unmovable. Even when Sanji uses his strength seriously, all he can do is make Zoro grunt and increase his grip.
Holy shit, the thought of Zoro being stronger than him should not excite him as much as it does, but the thought of not having to watch his strength in fear of hurting the swordsman is such a fucking turn on that he can’t help but moan an stretch his neck, allowing the other man to bite and nip at the skin and mark him.
“Please tell me you have lube,” Zoro groans, looking up to meet his eyes.
Sanji freezes. Does he have lube? It’s not like he’s a fan of masturbation, and the few times he slept with Emma, it always happened at her place.
“Oh, c’mon!” Zoro complains, letting his head fall on Sanji’s chest. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Olive oil,” Sanji says quickly. “In the kitchen. Go get it!”
Zoro jumps as if on fire, giving Sanji an appreciative view of his ass before he runs out. Sanji groans and lets his head fall back against the pillows. Well, what a way to ruin the mood. Though, his cock is still very eager by the looks of it.
He grips himself tightly and shudders. He thumbs at the dewy, red head and bites at his lip to keep his sounds to himself. Tremors wreck his body as pleasure shoots through his veins, lighting him up from the inside. His other hands joins in to tug at his balls softly as he jerks himself, his slick pace aided by the steady dripping from his tip. He plants his feet flat on the bed and pushes up, fucking up into his own hand.
Fuck, what is taking Zoro so fucking long?
He closes his eyes and imagines it is Zoro touching him, Zoro’s large hands gripping and squeezing down around him. His calloused hands will feel fucking amazing on his cock, he just knows it.
“Having fun without me?”
Sanji opens his eyes and looks down at Zoro leaning against the entrance, the bottle of oil in his hand. He takes in the dark hunger in Zoro’s eye, the way his skin glistens in the light, his proud and swollen erection—Sanji wants him so much, it hurts.
“Zoro,” he moans and spreads his legs. “Hurry.”
The cocky smile leaves the other, and Sanji hears him swallow hard before he joins him in bed, his kiss hot and demanding.
“Fuck, I want you so much,” Zoro groans into his mouth, his need sweet and intoxicating in Sanji’s tongue. His hand moves down and bypasses Sanji’s straining erection completely, dragging rough fingers over his puckered opening. “I wanna be inside you so bad,” he moans and meets Sanji’s eyes. “Can I?”
“Yes,” Sanji answers quickly. “C’mon, hurry.”
Zoro takes the demand to heart. He works Sanji open with thick fingers, rough but patient. He distracts him with his mouth, that fucking gorgeous mouth that wraps around his erection and delivers wet, glorious tightness. Zoro has always been a fucking god when it comes to using his mouth, proven in the way he takes him all in until he can work his throat around Sanji’s tip and swallows. Sanji swears he can see stars in the back of his eyes, and he can’t help but come around Zoro’s fingers, squeezing down on them so tightly that it hurts both him and Zoro.
It’s been a while since he bottomed, even before Zoro left, so that means Zoro has to put a little more effort to spreading him open wide enough for things to be pleasant. But his frankly mind-blowing orgasm leaves him pliant and it isn’t long before Sanji feels something blunt and hot pressing between his cheeks.
“Fuck…” he groans, his back arching as Zoro drives home, slow but steady. Oh shit, he had forgotten how fucking great this feels. Sanji is a romantic at heart, and for him there is no greater show of love than the joining of two bodies, intimate and visceral. He’s never been able to achieve that with anyone but Zoro, and it is always more intense when Zoro is the one inside of him. He’s in such a vulnerable position, offering something no one but Zoro will ever get to have, and it leaves him naked in a way that has nothing to do with his bare skin.
The heat of Zoro in his center, the way he throbs inside of Sanji and fills him up until there is nothing but Zoro, nothing but the feeling of satisfaction and fullness—it robs his breath.
“Sanji,” Zoro breathes out, resting his forehead against the blonde. Sanji opens his eyes and meets Zoro’s. There is something tender in his gaze, despite the overpowering lust. His shoulders are shaking with the effort of staying still and Sanji rubs them softly, mostly for the touch, but also to calm him down.
“You can move,” Sanji whispers and licks his dry lips.
Without looking away, Zoro begins to move.
He rolls his hips forward, his pace steady and deep. Their hurried movements are gone, the ravenous hunger than made them claw at each other in an effort to be close has been satiated. Now, there is only this private contact, this erotic connection that draws them close and ties them together.
It is such an intimate thing to share their gaze in this moment. It’s embarrassing to some degree because like this, Sanji can’t hide the sounds that escape his mouth or the blush that taints his cheeks. But he won’t look away. Not when Zoro is looking at him like he’s the only thing he’s ever wanted, like Sanji is something precious and beautiful that Zoro can’t look away from.
His breath hitches and Zoro kisses him. His pace picks up and Sanji lifts his hips to get him deeper. The slight movements finds his sweet spot and Zoro swallows the cry that escapes him. Sanji tightens his grip on Zoro’s shoulder blades and hooks his legs around him. His heels touch Zoro’s lower back and Sanji presses down to bring him closer, deeper.
“Zoro…I’m close,” Sanji murmurs. He doesn’t want to have any part of his body not touching Zoro so he speaks the words against his lips. He can feel the warmth in his stomach spreading. Everything is building up inside of him, hot and heavy and already so intense.
“Yeah…come on,” Zoro answers, picking him up a little to wrap his own hands round Sani’s waist. He closes his eyes and shakes his head a little. “Come on, Sanji,” he groans and again his pace quickens.
Sanji moans loudly, every thrust hitting that spot inside of him that unravels him completely. It’s too much and not enough at the same time, and he wants more of it. He wants to do this all the time, he wants to be with Zoro every day. He wants to touch him, taste him, and breathe the same air he breathes. He wants to learn everything that has changed about him, and he wants to be able to share this heat, and this pleasure, and this intense and unnamable feeling that conquers everything that he is and will ever be. And it’s not enough, it will never be enough, but he wants it anyway because it makes him feel good and it makes him feel wanted. It makes him feel like he matters and that, for the first time in his life, there is someone out there that was made just for him, and he knows deep in his heart, in the recess of his mind down deep where he never ventures, that he will never find anything like this again. There is his pride and his sense of self but things like that don’t matter when he’s faced with the only person that can claim him and take him so completely, the person that was born just for him to love.
Zoro is his All Blue, made out of flesh and bone, and every excuse that he made up to protect himself, to keep himself from falling even deeper in love than he already has vanishes in that instant and allows for the words to fall unbidden from his lips.
“Zoro,” he gasps, closing his eyes against the tide of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. “Zoro, I love you.”
The pressure becomes too much and then he’s coming—his back arches, his vision fades to white, and he can hear his own voice crying out in pleasure but it’s all background noise to the sound of Zoro’s wrecked voice in his ear.
He comes down slowly to the feel of Zoro’s lips on his jaw, his hands pawing at him desperately. “I love you, too,” he says, his voice husky and tender. “I love you, Sanji.”
Sanji grabs him and brings him up for a hungry kiss that surprises the both of them. He’s unable to open his eyes for a few moments after the kiss ends, but when he does, Zoro is still there.
“Go out with me,” Zoro says suddenly.
“What?” Sanji asks, surprised.
“Date me,” Zoro explains. “Be my boyfriend again.”
“Are you an idiot?” Sanji snaps without any heat except for the one coloring his cheeks.
“Is that a no?”
Sanji looks away from the too intense gaze, determined to erase the blush from his face. He’s never heard those words directed at him. He’s always been the one to ask women out, and the first time he and Zoro got together, they never officially talked about anything.
“Sanji, please go out with me.”
“Fine!” Sanji snaps, pushing Zoro away before he can get any more embarrassed. He winces when he feels Zoro pull out, his come trailing out of him, but he easily lets himself be tugged in for a hug, his head resting on Zoro’s chest.
He can hear Zoro’s heart beating slowly; he can feel Zoro’s fingers softly grazing the sensitive skin of his back; he can feel the rugged feeling of his scar underneath Sanji’s hand.
“I missed you,” Sanji says softly and places a quiet kiss on Zoro’s chest. To his surprise, Zoro brings his face up, forcing Sanji to meet his gaze head on.
“Sanji, I…” Zoro bites his lip, then lets out a deep breath. “I missed you, too,” he murmurs. “It was only the thought of coming back to you and Chopper that gave me strength.”
Sanji flushes and pushes Zoro’s face away, flustered. “God, stop being so cheesy, marimo.”
“I’m serious,” Zoro says, grabbing Sanji’s hand and forcing their eyes to meet again. “I know that I was gone a long time, and I know that your life and feelings changed while I was away, but I’m willing to fight for you, if I have to. “
Sanji’s heart is thundering in his chest so loud, he’s sure Zoro can hear it. It’s been such a long time since he was so vulnerable in front of someone—though the only other time he was so bare, it was in front of Zoro, as well.
“Do you…do you remember what I told you before?” Sanji begins hesitantly. “About how I needed you to make me feel better about myself? I thought I loved you then, but that wasn’t love. That was dependency, that was…wrong.”
Zoro nods, his face carefully blank. “And how do you feel now?” he whispers.
“I love you,” Sanji replies simply. “I don’t need you to make me feel good anymore, Zoro. I’m happy as I am right now. I’m happy with myself—I’m a good person, I’m a good friend. But I love you and even though I don’t need it, you do make me feel good. I want to be with you…I want to share my life with you.”
Zoro leans down to kiss him deeply, a kiss that relays his emotions perfectly and leaves Sanji slightly light-headed. “Fuck,” he groans into Sanji’s lips, his eyes screwed shut tightly. “I fucking love you…I’m gonna make it up to you, Sanji, I promise. You won’t regret me.”
Before Sanji can say anything, Zoro tugs him until Sanji is kneeling above him and brings him down for another kiss. Sanji bites his lip in irritation, but he can’t help but smile into the kiss. He can feel Zoro’s eagerness pressing into the swell of his ass, his intentions clear in the hunger of his kiss, and he responds in kind.
They still have a lot they need to talk about; they have two years’ worth of time to make up for, but all of that can wait.
Zoro is home and he’s not going anywhere.