Chapter Text
Prologue
Un-fucking-believable, Sanji thinks as he puts his phone away and angrily slips on his boots. This douchebag strings him along all afternoon and night just to prove to be one giant fucking dud. Sanji sighs. His Grindr pics were too good to be true, anyway. Striking looks, jacked body, and a big cock? Very rarely do all three get tied up in a neat little package like that. Also, who the fuck in their right mind goes by ‘Z’? Some dickwad trying on an edgy costume that doesn’t fit, that’s who.
Sanji shakes his head, deeming the deceiver not worth sticking to his promise of ten minutes. It’s not even midnight yet, maybe if he leaves now he can still get a refund for the room. Grabbing his small duffel and the room’s key card, Sanji is just approaching the door when someone raps on it three times.
“Seriously?” he mumbles, miffed as he peers through the hole and sees nothing but black. Confused and annoyed, he opens the door and sees his very late Grindr hookup, standing outside with an infuriatingly amused expression; the guy is clearly proud of his little prank as he pulls his hand back from the peephole.
Sanji blinks. “What the fuck?”
“You Sam?” Zoro asks with a smirk, shamelessly checking out the man in front of him as he leans against the door frame. The blond-haired, blue-eyed sex pot. Slim, pretty, legs for days. Exactly what he was hoping to find, all put together and waiting to be undone.
Sanji puts one hand on his hip, scanning the man over briefly and zeroing in on his left arm. That chrysanthemum sleeve tattoo that he’d noticed on the man’s Grindr profile looks amazingly intricate in person and increases his hotness factor about a hundredfold. Perhaps that, alongside his smoldering eyes, explains why he looks even better than his photos – and there was nothing unimpressive about them to begin with.
“You ‘Z’?”
“Zoro. You gonna let me in?”
“You’re late, Zoro,” Sanji says tersely, readjusting the strap over his shoulder. “And I was on my way out.” Yet, Sanji knows there’s no fucking way he’s stepping foot outside the door after being treated to this guy in the flesh. He’s also surprised and intrigued by the stranger’s accent – something southern for sure, but Sanji can’t pinpoint from where just yet.
“It’s still 11ish,” Zoro says, quickly checking the time on his phone, entertained by Sam’s impatience. “Can’t ‘handle’ a couple minutes of waitin’?”
Sanji laughs briefly at the callback to their messages. “Oh, I can handle plenty. But ‘a couple minutes’?” he points out, stepping aside from the doorframe. “It’s almost midnight. I mean, come on. ‘Don’t waste my time’?”
Zoro quirks an eyebrow. “It won’t be wasted.”
“No, you – your profile?”
“Huh?”
“You don’t even remember what you put on there, do you?”
“No? Made it a while ago.” Zoro strides into the room, tossing aside his coat and boots as he makes his way towards the bed. The door clicks shut behind him, its implication sending a shiver across his skin. He’s been waiting for this moment all damn afternoon, his body set ablaze ever since he saw Sam’s photos. Glancing back at the other man, his gaze hones in on thin lips curved in a smirk, and he playfully teases, “Remember what’s on yours though.”
His initial excitement returning full force, Sanji puts his bag back down, slipping back out of his boots as he plays coy, “Do you now?”
“That I do,” Zoro says, tugging off his t-shirt and enjoying the lust that pools in Sam’s eyes as he stares at his bare chest. Even the gnarled flesh of the scar running across his torso does little to deter the man, his eyes only widening for a brief moment before dripping with want again. Zoro smirks. “Somethin’ ‘bout using that pretty little mouth.”
Sanji approaches the man until they’re face to face, his eyes scanning, digesting and just taking in all of Zoro’s essence and intensity. His unbelievable looks more than make up for his tardiness, that’s for damn sure. Most shockingly, there’s a gnarly-looking scar which spans diagonally from his upper chest, to his abdomen, all the way down to his hip bone – an accident or a surgery of the past, it seems. Very intriguing.
“Oh, I think I remember. Something to the effect of…” Sanji leans in further, a hot wave of lust rising as he watches dark eyes turn black when he whispers, “‘I like sucking cock’?”
Zoro reaches out, hand tracing along Sam’s cheek, skin soft beneath his rugged palm. His stare hardens, locking onto the round eyes of his companion, a palpable tension igniting between them that thickens the air in the room. A smug grin forms on Zoro’s lips as his fingers entwine in a fistful of blond strands, using his grip to forcefully push Sam down to his knees.
“Then suck it.”
Excitement stirring from deep within at the command, Sanji loops his fingers around the waistband of Zoro’s sweats and, finding no other garment beneath, he tugs them halfway down the man’s semi-erection and gives a teasing lick up the shaft. Making eye contact with the man above, Sanji lets out a soft groan and smiles as he tucks the troublesome waistband out of the way, delighted to see this part of Zoro is just as advertised: big, thick and uncut. Then he takes every inch of the man into his mouth with practiced ease, sliding him right up to the back of his throat.
“Goddamn,” Zoro mutters under his breath, his chest heaving with the rapturous feeling of being taken wholly into a hungry, hot mouth. A greedy whore, bobbing up and down his shaft, sucking, licking. Tight, wet, and – fuck – so fucking hot. He watches as Sam works his cock with his tongue, unable to tear his eyes away. Both hands now grasp fists of hair and he uses his hold to thrust his hips forward, relishing in the strangled moan the motion unleashes from the man beneath him. Messy and shameless. Just how he likes it.
Sanji takes one thrust, then two, then three, then four. Eventually, he takes so many that he’s lost count, which doesn’t take long the way the horny fucker is getting more and more excited, making it harder and harder for him to recover and breathe. Tears spring into his eyes and he begins to choke slightly; his hair is grabbed and all of a sudden he’s pulled off of Zoro’s cock with a wild pull, forced to look up into the man’s overzealous eyes.
“Good?” Sanji asks with a labored breath and a cheeky smile.
“Maybe,” Zoro says in a low rumble, gently swiping a thumb across Sam’s abused, wet lips. An almost violent desire bubbles up from his gut, pulse raging. Maybe it’s been too long since he got laid but he’s riled up more than ever, a hot spark of lust-fuelled electricity jolting through him anytime his gaze connects with that sea of blue. His body screams at him, desperate for more. With a harsh tug, he pulls Sam up by his hair, crashing their lips together in a ravenous kiss, free hand sliding around that pale slender neck and squeezing tight.
“Oh, fuck,” Sanji moans between kisses, through the pressure increasing on his throat. He never thought he’d turn his opinion around, but this guy is worth the wait. He’s teased and choked, grabbed, manhandled and shoved onto the bed, a dangerous growl emanating from Zoro’s chest. His hookup’s energy is turning him on like never before and he lets out an exhilarated gasp of pleasure.
“I’m gonna wreck you,” Zoro snarls, a feral grin etched across his face as he deftly strips Sam of his sweater and jeans. Layer after layer is snatched away until the other man’s slender, bare body is pressed up against Zoro’s nude form, their skin melding. They dive into each other’s mouths, hungry, needy, desperate, hands exploring every available inch. Zoro seizes a firm handful of Sam’s ass, squeezing it tightly before delivering a forceful smack.
Tender flesh blissfully stinging with fire, Sanji spills over with flirtatious mirth: “Mm. I like you.”
“Ass up,” Zoro commands, rough palm pushing Sam back on the mattress.
“Or what?” Sanji challenges, staying still and smirking as his bed partner begins to seethe. It’s unbelievable how every point in their dynamic thus far has a counterpoint; for every move, there is the appropriate response – it’s downright thrilling and he never expected to be met with such an enticing surprise based on their brief bout of messaging. There is a sexual compatibility here that feels as natural as lightning in a thunderstorm, and it has Sanji’s spirits infinitely high for what’s to come.
Zoro’s scowl deepens at the disobedient little fucker. He strokes himself lazily as he continues to glare into tantalizing eyes, burning with desire to be buried deep inside the body splayed before him. “I’ll come down your throat and end this right here,” he threatens, looming forward and boxing Sam in between his arms. He leans closer, repeating his command in a low growl, “Ass up. I want to rip you apart.”
Like he’s been injected with a pure dose of adrenaline, Sanji crashes into Zoro’s mouth with a searing kiss, capturing his bottom lip between teeth and dragging it as he parts. Wriggling beneath the larger man’s form, Sanji goads: “So then rip me apart.”
Zoro springs into action, hoisting Sam up by the shoulder and pinning him facedown on the bed. His hands move to narrow hips, and he licks his lips at the sight of soft, unmarred flesh. That strong current of lust courses through him again, and he uses his much larger form to shove apart Sam’s legs, lifting his ass, just as he commanded. Unrelenting, he spreads his companion’s cheeks and spits on his hole before thrusting in two fingers. Sam writhes and moans beneath him, Zoro’s cock throbbing immediately at the sound.
“Pants pocket,” he barks, punctuating his order with another harsh smack to Sam’s ass. “Lube. Now.”
As Zoro gives him space to obey, Sanji curses under his breath and, like a man under a spell, maneuvers and haphazardly reaches beyond the edge of the bed for Zoro’s sweatpants, pulling them over. His search within their pockets is a quick success and, a small bottle of lube in hand, he passes it to Zoro and gets himself back into position. He looks over his shoulder to see the man at the side of his hip, working up that beautiful cock with fervor; a feral grin transforms his face as he turns his attention to Sanji and penetrates him with slickened fingers, smacking his ass torturously throughout.
It’s only when Sanji turns to face forward that something much bigger is thrust inside him without warning. Sanji swears, clenches his teeth and groans, crumbling to his elbows as Zoro pulls out completely and savagely thrusts back in.
A dam breaks within Zoro, flooding every sense with pleasure as he hastily finds a rapid rhythm. He’s wrapped up in ecstasy beyond measure -- it’s all so good, so fucking good , the way Sam seems to fit him like a glove, propelling him to fire off on all cylinders and give it everything he’s got. Wild and primal and visceral and impossible to control. He pummels deeper, his body rabid to fuse them as one.
“Fuck, Sam,” he grunts, his fingers finding their home in sweat-soaked strands once again as he ensnares Sam’s hair. “So fucking good.”
Hearing the man's husky grumbles in the throes of sex is enough to make Sanji want to come on the spot. But he's annoyed to hear his fake name: he wants to hear his real name in that dangerously sexy voice as he’s fucked within an inch of his life. “Sanji, not Sam,” he says breathily, turning his head slightly when the thrusts slow. “Fuck it, call me Sanji.”
“Huh?” Zoro says, puzzled, lust clouding his brain. ‘Sam’ was a fake name, he realizes slowly before he’s overtaken by his desire again. He seizes the opportunity to adjust their positions, stretching over Sam - Sanji’s - back and wrapping an arm tightly around his collar. He smirks, releasing a deep chuckle as he presses Sanji against his chest and snaps his hips. “Fine,” he says, finding his tempo again, the flames engulfing them once more.
“Goddamnit, Sanji . ”
“Mm – fuck me harder!”
“Shit.”
“Oh fuck, I’m gonna come!”
Zoro grunts, his release following quickly behind. “Shit.”
Panting heavily, Sanji rolls onto his back, dazedly wiping the sweat from his forehead as he stares at the blurry ceiling of the hotel room. It’s as if he’s floating on a cloud, a testament to how powerful an orgasm it was, and he never wants to come down. His body weirdly doesn’t seem to know how to, either, as it feels like he lays in a blissful trance for hours before he’s able to muster the strength to look beside him. He’s met with his hookup’s self-satisfied expression, the man half-sitting up against the headboard with an arm folded behind his head.
“Shower?” Sanji offers.
Zoro grins. “Only if that means round two.”
Sanji softly pokes the small tattoo of a cross on the exposed side of Zoro’s midsection. “Shower it is.”
As hot water rains down on them both and they quickly clean up, Sanji can’t help but be transfixed by more tattoos and other nuances that are revealed of his hookup’s body now that the fog of sex is, arguably, over. He takes note of two bold Chinese characters stacked behind Zoro’s neck, more similar-looking characters on his lower abdomen, a sneaky rose behind his right ear, and three golden cuff earrings on his left lobe. He even seizes a moment to graze his fingers across that terribly brutal scar. Amidst their shower, Sanji feels an inexplicable pull to the man, and he has to consciously hold himself back from kissing him – outside of sex it could be weird, and he’s usually good about compartmentalizing these things with his Grindr hookups, yet he’s simply magnetized to this one.
Sanji’s thoughts are laid to rest when Zoro leans forward beneath the stream and steals his lips in a fiery kiss. Surprised, he kisses back. As they make out, it’s like their bodies are the conduits to an electrical surge, and Sanji can’t deny that there is some real fucking chemistry going on here. He wonders, briefly, just how much the man might be into this based on the way he’s being kissed. He sort of wants to test that theory.
Sanji hears the valve creak shut and the water stops; he parts their lips and is met with dark, hungry irises on him, perhaps speaking the same language as his own.
“Reloaded?”
“Fuck yeah,” Sanji answers. “Show me what you got.”
1.
The Belfry
An oddball and eccentric corner bar boasting a semi-gothic aesthetic. Classy and full of character, much like the pompous owner himself. Wrought-iron details and vintage paintings adorn the space, basking in the warm glow of dim sconces peppered in between. Macabre yet modern, dark wood finishes and red leather barstools illuminate in a blue neon glow. A juxtaposition of Heaven and Hell, the bar draws an eclectic nightly crowd served by an even more offbeat motley crew of employees.
Annoying little shits.
Zoro releases a low growl, massaging his throbbing temple with frustration as Perona slams a tumbler on the bar. The resounding thunk sends another pulsing ache through his head. Fatigue is wearing him down, a random bout of insomnia kicking his ass for the second day in a row, pinching his nerves, and leaving little room for patience with immature bartenders and their piss-poor attitudes. He scowls at Perona through his fingers and is met with a childish stick of her tongue in return.
“You’re being so obnoxious tonight, Zoro!”
“Yeah, well, you’re being a dumb bitch,” he retorts, crossing his arms over his chest and watching Perona’s hands shake as she sets down her patron’s drink.
“Excuse me?!” she screeches as she twists back to face him, her pitchy, obnoxious voice threatening to burst a blood vessel in his brain. “You rude jerk! How dare you –”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Johnny cuts in, a look of concern plastered across his face as he glances between Zoro and Perona. “Don’t go nuclear on the boss man, ‘Rona.”
“Yeah, girlie,” Yosaku says in agreement from where he’s pouring a beer. “Relax. It’s a chill Tuesday.”
“He’s a giant whiny baby,” Perona chides, pointedly turning her back on Zoro and pretending he’s not there. “If he’s so tired, he should go upstairs and leave us alone! I can’t work in these conditions!”
“Yeah, right,” Zoro says, jerking his head toward a waiting customer and sending Johnny to handle the order with a silent command of his eyes. He returns his attention to Perona, acid on his tongue as he spits, “If I left, you wouldn’t fucking work at all.”
“What the hell are you talking about? I’m the best one you got in this place.”
“You’ve been sloppy all night.”
“Don’t try to get all Mr. Big Shot with me. I’ll go home.”
“You go home and you’re fired.”
“You can’t fire me!"
“I can and I fucking will,” Zoro threatens, looming across the bar and delivering the harshest glare he can muster. Having been her boss for the last three years, Perona ought to know he’s good on his word. He waits for her response but her red lips remain pursed, the fire in her round eyes extinguishing quickly in defeat.
“Fine,” she says, turning on her heel and tossing her pink curls over shoulder. “Just stay out of my way.”
“Don’t give me a reason to get in it.”
Zoro stares as she storms away, creating a wide berth between herself and the corner of the bar he currently occupies. Fine by him. Means less of a headache, her shrill laugh and offensively pink hair now far from his space. He takes the time to survey the rest of the room, relieved to see Yosaku’s right: the crowd is thinner than usual. Depending on how the next hour or so goes, he might actually take Perona’s advice and commute his one-flight journey home to his apartment overhead.
“You’re riding her hard tonight, bossman.”
Zoro’s gaze shifts, catching Johnny’s imploring eyes turned his way. He shrugs.
“She fucked up my counts and pissed me off.”
Johnny offers a sheepish grin. “Oh, yeah, that…”
Zoro pushes his empty glass forward, signaling for another drink. Johnny complies, seizing the chance to put some distance between himself and whatever it is he’s about to admit. It must be bad, considering he pours a double.
“Alright, so,” Johnny says as he slides over the gin and soda, avoiding Zoro’s stare. “Don’t get too mad, bro, but I think Yosaku and me fucked that up. We might’ve… broken a few bottles of Jose last week.”
Zoro feels his eye twitch in disbelief. “How the hell does that happen?”
Johnny hesitates, his dark eyes darting around the room as if seeking an escape route. “We were… drunk?”
Zoro’s anger flares, his tone cutting through the air like a blade.
“How many fucking times do I gotta tell y’all not to do that shit?” he chides, snatching his glass from the bar and slamming the entire drink back. “Fuck. At least tell me when that happens. I was tryin’ to figure it out for hours.”
“Sorry, bro. But, hey, at least Yosaku didn’t eat all the limes again?”
“Christ,” Zoro mutters, watching as Johnny ducks away under the pretense of helping a customer. Pussy. He shakes his head, briefly wondering what kind of shenanigans led those morons to ‘break’ six bottles of tequila. A myriad of possible scenarios flood his brain and, after a few moments of reflection, he suddenly finds himself jealous of what was most likely a grand ol’ time.
A soft buzz emits from his phone resting on the bar, stealing his attention from his frustrating thoughts. A new kind of annoyance prods his nerves as he reads the name on the screen.
He’s yanked away from his phone by a loud commotion and the unmistakable sound of shattering glass. Irritated, he cranes his neck and searches the surrounding area, a scowl forming when he spots a surly customer clearly stirring up a fight. Zoro sighs, standing from his stool with a loud scrape and cracking his neck. Full-time manager, part-time bouncer. There ain’t a job around these parts he’s free from.
“Settle down,” Zoro commands as he approaches two men engaged in a heated exchange, his eyes immediately focusing on the bigger of the two – a brawny blond bastard with a hyena grin. Apparently, his beef with the other guy isn’t too important because he’s quick to drop the argument and instead turn his attention directly on Zoro, releasing a sardonic laugh.
“Oh, yeah? What’s a chump like you gonna do?”
“Whatever I gotta do,” Zoro deadpans.
“Oh, so scary!” The dumb bastard feigns fear, pretending to be shaking in his boots and drawing a bout of laughter from his small group of lackeys. For the second time, Zoro feels his eye twitch as ol’ hyena-face continues, “Make yourself useful and go tell that pink pair of tits behind the bar to bring us a round of shots.”
The thumping in Zoro’s head returns with a vengeance, disrupting all logic and firing signals to the wrong parts of his brain. Maybe Perona’s voice did pop a blood vessel because suddenly he’s seeing red, the rude customer’s grin begging to be rearranged.
Zoro’s reaction is swift and wordless as he swings his arm back, delivering a powerful punch square to the guy’s ugly mug. The crack of fist against skull resonates through the bar and chaos ensues. The blond troublemaker is briefly stunned before his hand flies in retaliation, managing to land a blow of his own. Zoro seizes the man by the middle, hauling him away from the table, and they spill out the door, their scuffle continuing into the snowy streets.
“What the fuck is your problem, man?” the guy yells, shoving Zoro away as they slip on ice, his friends thundering out of The Belfry to join the fray.
“Get the fuck outta my bar!” Zoro snarls, chest heaving with seething rage. Fortunately, hyena-face's friends seem to be smarter than he is, tugging him away without so much as a second glance.
Johnny appears at his side, looking wildly up and down the street as the small crowd parts.
“Bro! What the hell was that?!”
“Coupl’a dumb fucks,” Zoro answers as he spits onto the sidewalk, frowning when he sees a tinge of blood. “Bastard got a lucky punch in.”
“Dude, fuck him. He was being a shithead all night.”
“Good riddance then,” Zoro says, shooting one last scowl toward the man’s disappearing form as he rounds the corner and out of sight. Adrenaline decreases and reality sets in as he turns back to the bar’s entrance. “What’s the damage?
“Not much. Couple of beer bottles. Perona’s ego. She heard the tits comment.”
“I’m not dealin’ with that,” Zoro says, shaking his head. “Headin’ up. Clean up for me and we’ll be squared away on the Jose.”
“Yes, sir!”
Zoro’s glad his walk home is short. The side entrance to the building is only a few yards away from The Belfry’s front door and his apartment is just one flight of stairs beyond that. Perks of working for the building owner.
Thirty minutes later and he’s got the shitty night at work rinsed from his skin and a butterfly stitch applied to a small cut over his eyebrow. A trophy from the dumb fucker at the bar. A fluffy black cat greets him in the kitchen, daring him to deny her a late-night snack as she mewls next to an empty bowl.
“C’mon, cat,” Zoro says, grabbing a beer, salami, and some celery from the fridge. “Let’s go see what’s on TV.”
Settling on the couch, Zoro takes note of the noise outside of his window, happy patrons entering and exiting the bar below. He reclines his head against the back of his seat, jaw shredding a piece of celery with irritation, still pumped up after that brawl. Not an uncommon occurrence at The Belfry – Zoro’s job as manager is to keep shit under control. Sometimes that involves knocking out a rude asshole here and there. He’s sure his boss won’t take the news too lightly when he hears about it in the morning. If he hears, Zoro thinks as he takes a long swallow of beer, sharp little teeth suddenly nipping at his fingertips and reminding him of the promise he made in the kitchen.
“Alright, alright, damn cat,” he says, returning Dragon’s dirty look with one of his own. He pacifies her with a piece of salami and a pat on the back, realizing he doesn’t have it in him to grab the remote from the table he’d left it on across the room. Instead, he sips his beer and eats his snack, mind wandering, not for the first time, to his recent meet-up at the Hyatt.
The mouthy blond. Sanji. A hot little firecracker, so deliciously disobedient and yet so desperate to get his back blown out. Not to mention insatiable – they’d fucked three times before Zoro had to tap out, totally spent and sucked dry. Truly, both of them had to wave the white flag. He’d left Sanji a puddle of pure bliss stretched out on the hotel bed, eyes closed and a self-satisfied smile etched on his face. It was hot as hell, probably the best sex of his life, which interests him deeply. So much so, he’s contemplating breaking his cardinal rule of Grindr hookups and possibly meeting up with ol’ blondie again. Maybe.
Beer drained, Zoro rises to grab another when he hears a knock at his apartment door. He doesn’t bother putting on pants; anyone who dares interrupt him at this hour is likely accustomed to seeing him in his full boxer-briefed glory. He thinks he knows who it is anyway, his suspicions confirmed when a familiar wide smile beams at him as soon as he tugs open the door.
“Zoro! Johnny said you got into a fight!”
“That so?” Zoro asks, stepping aside as Luffy wheels his bike into the apartment and leans it against the wall.
“Hell yeah, man. Why didn’t you wait for me? I wanna kick some ass!” Luffy laughs, shedding his winter gear and flinging it all to the floor, not a care in the world where it lands. “Dude, I’ve been pedaling like a madman tonight. Slumber party?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Cool!”
Zoro resumes his mission of grabbing a beer, adding a second to his lot along with more salami. He finds Luffy in the living room, sprawled out on the couch and tickling Dragon behind her ears, happy to accept the drink and even happier for the deli meat. Zoro plops into the brown leather recliner, taking a long swallow of Miller Lite before offering, “Take my bed if you want. Ain’t like I’m usin’ it.”
“Yeah? Not sleeping again?” Luffy asks through a mouthful of salami, snatching away a piece Dragon’s eyeing and stuffing it into his gullet. Nicest guy in the world but selfish as all hell when it comes to food. Been this way ever since they were kids. Twenty years of friendship and some things never change.
“Nope,” Zoro explains with a shrug. “Haven’t in two days.”
“Holy shit, dude! Two days? That’s like me not eating for two hours!”
“Tell me about it.”
“What’s causing that? Did you watch a scary movie or somethin’?” Luffy inquires, salami dangling between his teeth as he rubs his calves. It’s hard biking around the city in the ice and snow, carefully dodging people on the sidewalk while delivering food. The glamorous life of an Uber Eats delivery boy.
“A scary movie?” Zoro repeats, his foggy brain catching up to Luffy’s inquiry. “You think a scary movie would keep me up for two goddamn days?”
“I mean, one time, Nami and I watched this one where this girl fell down a well and – oh, shit! I gotta text Nami.” Luffy frantically pats his pockets, a triumphant grin sprouting on his face when he finds his phone, only to be replaced with disappointment when the screen doesn’t light up. “Boo, it’s dead. Can you text her for me? She’s probably pissed.”
“You text her,” Zoro says, reclining his chair and settling in. “Phone’s on the kitchen counter.”
“Got it!”
Zoro closes his eyes, listening to the echo of Luffy’s socked feet bounding across the apartment to the kitchen and then jumping back on the couch with a thump. The telltale sound of tapping fills his ears, then a quiet pause, before a buzzing response. “She pissed?” he asks after a moment, a small chuckle resounding from his friend.
“Oh, yeah, totally.”
Zoro snorts. “She’ll get over it.”
“She always does.”
Zoro keeps his eyes shut, absorbing the soothing sounds of the plastic bag of salami crinkling and Luffy talking to Dragon in a teasing voice. The shuffle of feet again. Two cans are clinking into the trash can. The sound of the TV clicking on, a talk show host’s booming voice fills up the small apartment before a few random spurts of sound as Luffy flips through channels.
“Damn, man! American Pie’s on. Wanna watch it?”
“Go for it,” Zoro mutters, his mind finally swimming with the desire to sleep.
***
“Two slices of pepperoni deep dish, my good man! That extra greasy one right there, if you could.”
“Would you like a candle with that, sir? They’re on sale.”
“Uh, no.”
“Some tea, perhaps?”
“Actually, you know what? Yeah.”
Sanji looks over to Usopp in amusement before waving off the convenience store owner’s inquisitive eyes. “Oh, none for me today. Thank you.” As Mr. Galdino gets started on his friend’s order, Sanji stands with his hands in his jean pockets, leaning over and poking fun, “Tea with your pizza?”
Usopp playfully shoves him away from his space. “What? It sounded nice! And it’s freezing out!”
“And how do you take your tea?” Galdino asks.
“Oh – two sugars, two milks, please!”
Sanji laughs, shaking his head. Usopp Gibson’s been his best friend since high school and his loveable quirks haven’t changed one bit. He may be a bit of a dork and a character but he’s got a soulful, infectious spirit, is always down for some fun, and has a sensitivity about him which Sanji has always found uniquely comforting.
It’s why he’s stuck around this dork for so long.
Galdino’s is a convenience store they frequent around the block from their shared apartment; the owner’s a bit of an oddball, always trying to upsell them candles and tea – Sanji is quite certain he’s gay – but the place is clean, well-stocked, typically safe at all hours and, best of all, closeby. They make their purchases, Sanji buying his usual pack of Marlboros and Usopp, at the last minute, grabbing some junk food on top of his dinner for his night of gaming in store.
“You sure you didn’t want to grab any dinner before work?” Usopp asks, stopping outside the door Sanji is holding for him to reassess his balancing act between the bag of goodies, his tea and his pizza.
“Oh, no. I’m good. I had a late lunch,” Sanji responds, letting the door handle go, bells ringing as it closes. As he bemusedly watches Usopp try to Tetris his way out of his overencumbered situation, Sanji unravels the plastic wrapping of his Marlboros and opens it up. He chuckles and extends a hand, “Bit off more than you can chew, huh? Here, gimme the pizza.”
“Oh, thanks!”
“No problem,” Sanji says as they begin walking. The deep-dish is keeping his hands warm at least, as it starts to snow. He one-handedly fumbles around in his coat pocket for a smoke and his lighter. “Yeah, sorry, I was gonna make something to cover you for dinner tonight, but –”
“Yo, Mr. G!”
Usopp perks up with a wide smile when he sees who’s greeting him on the sidewalk. “Oh, Reggie! What’re you up to?”
“Just gettin’ some grub, you know, hanging out.”
“Don’t slack too much; you’ve got an essay due tomorrow. Have you started?”
“Nah, not yet,” the teen says with a sheepish laugh. “But I’ll bang it out tonight, you’ll see.”
“I have faith, my man,” Usopp says, fist-bumping with Reggie as he moves past him. “Don’t stay out late. You got this.”
“I know, I know. I won’t. See ya, Mr. G!”
“See ya, Reggie!”
As they continue on their way, Sanji takes a puff from the cigarette he’d managed to light during the brief exchange between Usopp and his student. A newer high school teacher, Usopp has already managed to create strong bonds between himself and his students, from what he can tell. He talks about them all the time, especially while grading papers in their shared apartment. His best friend is very dedicated to each and every one of them and the passion and energy that he puts into them comes back out in spades. That’s that sensitivity at play, inspiring and bettering his students.
“I don’t miss being a student,” Sanji comments idly with a laugh.
Usopp chuckles. “Hey, sometimes I feel like I still am. Still stuck in a classroom, grading papers is teacher’s homework, dodgeballs still get thrown at my head… but at least I get those sweet summers off.”
“Lucky bastard,” Sanji comments with a scoff.
“Well, you know – I don’t deny it’s a good perk!”
As they chat and make their way back home, Sanji looks around at all of the downtown Chicago shops and homes. A lot of them still have their Christmas lights up; after all, it hasn’t even been close to a week since New Year’s. He always finds it cute how, as the January days go on, many businesses and residences hang on to the festive magic as long as they can.
They make it back to their building, through the lobby, up the stairs, and into their loft apartment: number 210. Usopp kicks off his boots and shakes out of his coat, immediately setting himself up in front of the TV to roll a joint and pig out on the goods.
Not interested in smelling like pot before his shift, Sanji settles into his room to relax; in other words, laying in bed scrolling on his phone. Mind wandering to Sunday night with his recent score – his recent potential score, he reminds himself – he brings up his Grindr app, checking his chat history with the hot commodity. Not a lot of guys on Grindr are so memorable or so easy for him to return fire.
And shit, does Sanji ever want to return fire. Zoro was, certainly, very memorable. He got Sanji’s blood pumping for many rounds, something that’s rare for him. Per session, he’s usually very one-and-done with hookups. Return visits are always a possibility, with the right incentive, of course. Where he’s sitting with Zoro is more of a bargaining stage.
As he looks over their history, he’s tempted to shoot another text. He’d left things with an eye roll emoji, hoping Zoro would stay enticed and message him. But it’s been nearly a day and yet – nothing.
He’ll wait it out longer than this. He wants Zoro to be thirsty for it, not the other way around. Still, Sanji can’t deny that he’s not used to being on the hungering side of the fence, but if there’s one thing on his mind, it’s being in another hotel room with the stranger all to himself. The guy knows how to use his dick – ironically rare for a guy of that size – and he has a menacing presence that’s hard to find in an authentic, non-costumed form. It’s one of his biggest turn ons. Fuck, he’s getting hard just thinking about the energy Zoro exuded.
Kissing him in the shower hadn’t been so bad, either. Sanji could even describe it as kind of tender and nice – almost affectionate, in a way. He felt very connected to him at that moment. He’s still curious if the man got a little attached himself, not to mention whether or not there’s a chance he’s a candidate for one of Sanji’s absolute favorite games.
Suddenly, Sanji’s phone dings in his hands and a text pops up on the screen.
Sanji puts his phone away before his dad finishes texting; he has to get ready for work. He gets out of bed with a smirk painted on his face. His adoptive father Zeff is a crusty old bird, but damn if it isn’t cute the funny little ways he shows his affection and dependence on his son for certain tasks. Food was always a main staple growing up in his dad’s household. He learned how to cook from a decorated chef and even considered pursuing it as a career in honor of everything Zeff had done for him, but Zeff was very adamant that his son choose his own life path.
Sanji thinks he could have been happy as a chef. He could have had success with all of Zeff’s connections in Chicago and simply by way of being the reputable chef’s son, but there was something that drew him towards helping people in a very direct way. That’s why he chose a profession for himself in healthcare. Cooking remains one of his main passions outside of his career, anyhow.
Dressed in his blue scrubs, his long blond hair in a low bun, Sanji makes sure he has everything he needs in his backpack for his twelve hour night shift and heads out to the front of their loft apartment. His joint spent in the ashtray on the table, Usopp is already all plugged in on the couch in front of his PS5, which is displaying the title screen of God of War Ragnarök.
“I’m heading out. Have fun exploring your secret desire to dismember people.”
“Oh, come on. Are you worried I’ll unleash Kratos’s violence upon the general public? What are you, a mom?”
Sanji finishes zipping up his jacket and gets to work on his boots. He starts counting with his fingers. “Let's see: I clean up after you, I feed you, I make sure you get up on time, I remind you to go to bed so you can get up in the morning, I often do your laundry…”
“So maybe you’re a little momish. Well, I fix things around here, don’t I? It’s symbiotic, right? I’m like a dad! We have a good thing going. Let’s not fuss over small details,” Usopp dismisses, his hand in the air. “Oh! Tell Law I’m gonna be leveling up like a psycho tonight in Overwatch. He’s in trouble.”
“You’ll never beat him. He doesn’t sleep, you know.” Sanji pauses a beat, pondering. “I don’t even know that he’s human.”
“Oh, he’s human. Definitely human: this one time we were playing Call of Duty and he had to pause to pee.”
“Wow. What a deduction. You should be a detective, you know?”
“Damn straight I should’ve! Chi-town streets would never be cleaner. Criminals would be shaking in their boots!”
“Okay, you axe-murdering psycho,” Sanji incessantly jokes as he finishes winding a scarf around his neck. “See ya tomorrow. I’m making a French soup you’ll like.”
“Ooh, sounds awesome! Have a good shift!”
“You too,” Sanji says as he closes and locks the door, not really sure which shift of Usopp’s he’d been referring to: clocking in his hours with his video games or teaching high schoolers English in the morning.
Sanji spins his car keys around, clasping them in a firm grip before stuffing them in his pocket.
7 p.m. to 7 a.m.
His typical schedule for over a year now. Like living on the dark side of the moon. Oddly, most of the time he finds it’s not such a bad place to live.
***
Nodding curtly to the man at the front desk, Sanji smirks at the read receipt and slips his phone away as he crosses the lobby toward the elevator. Based on limited data, Zoro doesn’t seem like the type to have his phone glued to his palm; he must be eager if he’s hanging onto Sanji’s every word. Also, he showed up almost on time. Very suspicious behavior indeed.
It seems his surly hookup has caught a very tempting glimmer from his lure.
The elevator dings, the doors open, and Sanji presses button number four on the panel. Running a hand through his long, shower-damp strands, he stares at his hazy figure’s reflection in the stainless steel of the doors ahead, hoping he looks as enticing as he did in the mirror before he left his apartment. Usopp never heard a thing – Sanji always knows it’ll be easy when he has a joint before bed.
Skin buzzing as the elevator doors open, Sanji steps out onto the fourth floor, an eagerness coursing through his veins. It’s more zest than normal – he hasn’t been able to help thinking about it all week. It’s not often that Sanji gets to indulge in a genuine sexual connection with someone. Typically, his meetings with men in the night turn out to be pretty mediocre. Many of them don’t have that dangerous glint in their eyes – the one that wants to swallow him whole, the one that has him feeling kind of addicted.
No. Zoro seems anything but mediocre in that department.
Sanji halts. Room 421, door ajar and a dim darkness peeking from within. Even with the door propped open, Sanji raps gently on it as he slips inside. He puts his bag down and, not seeing Zoro anywhere in the room, tentatively calls out, “Here I am.” No answer, other than the hum of the heating unit by the window. He steps inside further. “Hello? – You in here?”
Rapid footsteps thunder to his left and the next thing Sanji knows, he’s body-slammed into the wall with a force strong enough to nearly wind him. Before he can so much as gasp, a hand wraps around his throat, its grip blazing and tenacious, before the weight of his assailant’s body presses him into the wall, trapping him further. He stares into the hungry dark abyss and, with slight trepidation blissfully layering over excitement, he instantly knows who he’s dealing with.
Zoro clamps his hand, fingers digging into the sides of Sanji’s neck, watching with interest the way those blue eyes light up in a delicious mix of shock and awe. And desire. Flames of lust dance across deep pools as the color drains from his cheeks due to lack of oxygen. Zoro presses a knee firmly between Sanji’s legs, smirking when he confirms just exactly where that blood flow is going. It’s not enough – the way that denim rubs roughly against his bare skin, already down to his boxers while Sanji’s still covered head to toe. One final squeeze and he releases, shoving his partner towards the bed instead.
“Strip.”
Rubbing his neck, Sanji hums, impressed – he can feel his heartbeat thudding in his ears from the delicious shock of what felt like a near-mauling. He sheds his coat and shoes and then gets to work on his clothes, keeping his eye on Zoro the entire time. He then shoots him his most charming grin. “Not fucking around tonight, are you, big guy?”
“I know what I want.”
“Oh yeah?” Sanji asks, tilting his head as he stretches the band on the last article of clothing to be removed: his boxer-briefs. “What is it that you want?”
Control. Power. Authority. Zoro unleashes a feral grin as Sanji’s underwear drops. “To fuck you up.”
He doesn’t give Sanji the chance to reply, instead pushing him back onto the bed, mattress dipping beneath his knee as he looms over. He slicks his fingers with spit, hand forcing its way between Sanji’s cheeks and violating his squirming body with harsh prodding at his waiting hole. Leaning forward, Zoro clamps sharp teeth on the soft flesh of Sanji’s shoulder as two fingers drive in deep, cock throbbing at the noise that escape’s the other man’s lips.
Amidst the besiegement of pain and pleasure, Sanji realizes he’s meeting firsthand with this man’s inner beast. His mind can’t help but briefly wander to their first interaction: How much can you handle? So that’s what he meant. Luckily for Zoro, it’s precisely what Sanji had hoped for, and what he can handle is quite a lot. For him, pushing these limits is as hot as it gets.
Gasping as teeth press harder into his skin, Sanji jerks against the mattress as Zoro ups the ante, all but fucking him with his hand; he doesn’t know how many fingers are inside at this point. Teeth are lifted from indentations of skin and it’s then that he hears a low, primal noise from behind, and Sanji swears he can hear his own blood violently rushing south, it sounds so fucking hot. Rough hands squeeze and gnash the flesh of his ass, hungrily inspecting, before dishing out a ruthless smack – and another – and another – and another.
Inevitably, Sanji cries out and the barragement stops, and he has a chance to take a breath. “You like hurting me, you sick fuck?”
The sound of another brutal slap cracks against the walls. “You like it too.”
“What clued you in?” Sanji asks with a sultry laugh, squirming a bit beneath Zoro’s wandering hands. He twists onto his side, looking back at the man and ghosting his fingers along the underside of his rock-hard erection. “I also like this.”
“Yeah?” Zoro’s thumb presses against Sanji’s entrance again in teasing strokes as he delivers a smoldering glare. “How bad do you want it?”
“Really fucking bad,” Sanji entices and moans. He gently caresses up and down the front of Zoro’s thigh, encouraging further, “Been waiting for it all week.”
Zoro finds the lube he’d stashed at the edge of the bed earlier, making quick work of slicking his cock in preparation. Of course Sanji wanted it, he’s been wanting it too, not much else preoccupying his mind over the last several days. It’s got his dick heavy and his mind spinning with more desire than he’s ever felt before. A cool drink of water in a blazing desert, withered and parched, he’s desperate to take what he needs. What’s owed to him. Sanji.
With a bruising hold, Zoro grips Sanji’s thighs and yanks his ass to the edge of the bed, long limber legs thrown over his shoulders. He tilts forward, nearly folding Sanji in half, as he pushes the tip against his partner’s hole, their faces merely inches apart.
“I said, tell me how bad.”
Sanji clasps the back of Zoro’s neck, closing the gap between them so that their mouths graze. As if desperately famished, he murmurs his need huskily against his lips, “I need you to fuck me so hard I scream. So – gonna fill me up with your big cock?”
Barely a breath is shared between them before Sanji gets his wish – Zoro’s hips snapping hard and deep, filling him to the brim.
A week’s worth of thirst is satiated, drenching Zoro in waves of pure bliss. The hotel room hosts a chorus of moans, groans, and slaps of skin against skin, keeping in rhythm with the merciless tempo of their frenzied fucking. The best he’s ever had. An erotic mix of sex and sweat hovers in the air, sticking to him like a new cologne and triggering something deeply primal within him. It’s overwhelming, the way Sanji screams in his ear, the way salt hits his tongue as he bites anywhere his teeth can land. Debauched and depraved, rapidly spiraling out of control.
Zoro reins it in with two powerful hands squeezing around that slender throat. Disciplining Sanji – disciplining himself – to stay grounded in the moment. Sanji’s fingers fly to his forearms, scratching and tugging, his round blue eyes rolling back in euphoria. The sight alone is enough to force Zoro’s hand, to lose the battle, and he finds himself toppling over the edge of his climax with one final vigorous thrust.
“Fuck.”
The hands on his throat slacken and Sanji gasps for breath, filling his lungs while he feasts his eyes on the magnificent sight of Zoro coming. He grips himself and begins pumping vigorously to the man’s face, so taut with ecstasy, so lost in lust – utterly different from what little he knows of his faces, the faces of stoicism and of animalistic intensity – and Sanji imagines this bliss all from him. He imagines that Zoro has never come as hard as he has while inside of him, and that he’d never dream of coming this hard with anyone again. And as Zoro releases a final satiated sigh, Sanji thinks about how badly, perhaps, the man had needed him and, promptly and blissfully, he overflows, brims and spills over.
The sheets are cool against Zoro’s back as he crashes onto the bed, breathless and body still tingling. Glancing over, he eyes Sanji’s equally wrecked form, a surge of pride swelling in his chest, fully aware he’s the creator of such a tasty image. “Shit,” he says after a beat, flexing his cramped hands. “I needed that.”
“Yeah?” Sanji asks, swallowing thickly and finally opening his eyes. The words course through him like electricity through his veins. Sounds to him like the man might be hooked. “Was it good?”
“What d’you think?” Zoro asks, a low laugh rumbling from within his chest as he gestures at the mess between them.
“Yeah, yeah, you got off. That part’s obvious,” Sanji says distractedly, glancing and grabbing the towel on the nightstand near him, handing it over to Zoro first before it’s passed back to him. He wipes himself down and stands up to rummage through his discarded coat, retrieving a cigarette and lighter. He gives Zoro a sidelong, mischievous look, “Was it good enough to pay for?”
“You really like that joke, huh?”
“Well, one has to wonder,” Sanji says mysteriously as he takes a seat by the window, cracking the glass pane open and lighting up. “Maybe there’s a reason I like that joke.”
“Yeah?” Zoro hoists himself up to partially lean against the headboard, eyebrow raised. “What’s the reason, blondie?”
Frowning in annoyance at the nickname, Sanji exhales a stream of smoke out the window before turning back to Zoro with a mysterious grin. “Maybe I want you to tell me it’s that good. You know – to boost my ego.”
Resting his arms behind his head, Zoro studies his bed partner for a brief moment. “I’ve fucked you twice. Should be boosted plenty.”
Sanji tilts his head back and laughs, swinging one leg over the other, his foot dancing as he analyzes Zoro laying in bed like a king in his birthday suit. He takes a long drag of his cigarette and comments, “My, my, you are cocky. Could be I’m just insatiable, hotshot.”
“Greedy little fucker, huh?” Zoro grins, hand absently scratching at the tattooed skin of his lower abdomen. “You tryin’ to make this a regular thing?”
Sanji laughs, standing up and putting his cigarette out in a coffee mug. “Would that interest you?”
“Maybe.”
“Well, here’s the deal,” he says, tantalizingly coy as he stalks over to the bed and swings his leg across Zoro’s midsection, settling in on his lap with his palms on the man’s broad chest. “Turns out, I’ve got a little side gig, and you’ve used up all your free samples. But, lucky you, I’ve got a proposition.”
Zoro’s body ignites, skin ablaze beneath Sanji’s tender touch, their sudden closeness beckoning him for another round. His gaze traverses a canvas of marred skin – his handiwork – from teeth imprints to delicate bruises to the dark blush of abused flesh. The thinly veiled suggestion in Sanji’s words doesn’t elude Zoro as their eyes lock, the deep blue burning right through him. Seized with interest, he discovers himself more intrigued than he cares to admit.
“And what’s that?”
“You want me?” A roll of Sanji’s hips against his potential client’s groin. He takes the man’s hand, bringing it up to the curve of his hip and onwards to the swell of his ass. “Want to keep fucking this? You pay me money, and you can keep having me however you want me, big guy. What do you think?”
“How much?” Zoro asks, squeezing a palmful of Sanji’s firm backside and using his grip to grind their hips together again.
“Hm, look at you,” Sanji hums, somewhat shocked at how well this is going – very well, judging from the twitch he feels from underneath. Fucker’s turned on by this – not that he’s one to talk, so’s he. “Normally I charge more… but I kinda like you. Hundred an hour sounds good?”
Zoro’s mouth finds the enticing curve of Sanji’s neck, teasing with tongue and teeth as he carefully considers what’s being presented. It’d be a hell of a lot cheaper and easier to continue finding ass through his usual means but there’s something about this specific arrangement that’s got him hooked. It’s easy – clear lines, defined boundaries, and mutually agreed-upon expectations. And maybe, it’s not only the arrangement that captivates him. He likes the way Sanji becomes putty in his hands, willing to unravel and eager to embrace all that he can offer.
“Hundred bucks,” Zoro rumbles, lips hot against wet skin. “And I can do anything I want?”
“Anything you want.”
“I ain’t payin’ this on top of hotel rooms. Where we gonna meet?”
“I’ll pay for rooms.” Sanji smiles naughtily. “Business expense. I also do outcalls or incalls; your place or mine. Whichever works for you.”
Zoro lifts his head, connecting their stares once more. It seems simple enough after peeling away the layers of formality. He nods, accepting. “You better make time for me. I don’t like to wait.”
“I told you, it’s a side gig. I know you’re horny as hell, but I do have a real job and a life,” Sanji says with jest, inwardly on cloud nine to have the man so enticed, hooked and, hopefully one day, addicted entirely. He pats Zoro’s chest spiritedly. “But I am good at managing my time, so don’t worry about it.”
A wild grin spreads across Zoro’s face as he gives Sanji’s ass another hard squeeze. “Hope you’re ready then, blondie. I like to get my money’s worth.”
Sanji smiles and narrows his eyes playfully, wrapping his arm around to envelope Zoro’s grip on him. What the hell. He’s hard now anyway, and so is his client. “You know what? One more freebee. How’s that for your money’s worth?”
“Whose ego’s boosted now?”