Lie to Me
Lie to Me
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“Strong Enough” is playing on the playlist,
which explains the weird title.
Standard disclaimers apply. (heck if I owned One Piece, I’d
have a whole arc dedicated to Zoro and
Oh, and yaoi warnings.
Don’t like, don’t read.
I am not your mother/caretaker/nanny. Don’t blame me for
exposing your ‘innocent’ little mind to the realities of the world.
Zoro:
neko: of
course~ ♥
Sanji: *sniggers*
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Lie to Me
It had been six days since they’d left the last island
they’d docked on Grand Line for supplies. Six days since Sanji’s
world started—no, had—crumbled, so
disastrously so that he had volunteered for every
goddamned
The Mugiwara cook leaned back
against the crow’s nest, puffing away in between muttered curses and the
occasional agitated run of fingers through blonde hair. If only he could scream
his head off! But noo~ they were out at sea and doing
so in the middle of the night would just earn him angry glares and death
threats (if not broken bones).
Sanji sighed again. This wasn’t
doing him any good. He hated thinking too deeply—he firmly believed that he was
not brooding in any way. He
was fine with just the smoke.
Yeah. That’s it. Concentrate on the smoke; the slow spiral
of gray coiling ever upward, fading then disappearing as though it was never
there. He could pretend that the thin haze could hide him, blur him from the
world, just like the haze of cigarettes and pub lights on that island; the dim
glow and shadows playing on the muscled form of his drinking partner…
Shit.
He did it again. And how the hell did his favorite vice turn
into an associative freefall for unwanted reminiscing anyway?!
Sanji shook his head, as though he
could shake away the onset of images and fleeting touches playing like a slow,
taunting slide show in his head. He took another drag of his cigarette,
noticing that it was almost at its end. The annoyed cook didn’t bother stubbing
it out on the railing like he always did, and just flicked it into the ocean
below, falling in a graceful glow-y arc as he lighted another—the blur of
orange triggering images of unfocused street lights over a broad shoulder as he
was kissed roughly and shoved against a back alley wall—
If Sanji could bang his head
against the mast without waking the whole crew he would. But since he couldn’t,
he just resorted to gripping the edge of the crow’s nest’s railing, nails
scraping at wood and knuckles turning white. Why, oh why did his last night of
fun at the island end that way? And why oh why did it have to be with the
muscle-brained marimo?
The blonde cook dropped his head on his arms, his
half-finished cigarette hanging precariously between limp fingers. He sighed.
It wasn’t that the sex was bad, no, it was fucking
mind-blowingly awesome. It was just that the
mind-blowing sex that had happened was because he was mind-numbingly drunk. With the
It was just not fair. If the cook had ever entertained any
thoughts of having ‘mind-blowing sex down a dark alley’ it was with a very
pretty, very willing lady and
Sanji shook his head again. No.
Nononononono
Must.
He did not moan.
No he did not—not wantonly,
at least.
Sanji stared blankly at the
glowing end of his half-finished cig,
Well, maybe he did. But he was not about to vocally admit to
it. (No pun intended.) And that wasn’t even the problem here. The problem was
that Zoro—marimo bastard
that he was—had not said anything about their little encounter since they’d
left (woke up, which ever came first, since he had not stayed to find out the
state of things after the swordsman had passed out on him, leaving him very
sated, very sober, and very shocked—Sanji did,
however, have the decency to zip the idiot’s pants up for him before he bolted
back to the ship. What? So he was a gentleman even after getting raped.)
Ravished, a little
voice in his head corrected. Rape is when
the other party is unwilling.
Sanji groaned inwardly. He was
unwilling damnit! Up
until the part where he had licked (and nipped) at the back of your ear… or
maybe before that, when his tongue swiped at the roof of your mouth making you
shudder…
Sanji hated the little voice in
his head.
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How many years since I wrote anything? *counts*
six years? O_o
My god that felt strange. O_o
The only series I was comfortable at writing the
snippets of Naruto… lol
So tell me, do I still have what it takes? I know the style
has changed somewhat, tho I can’t put my finger on
what tho…maybe I sound less ‘dreamy-float-y’ now? (I
miss being dreamy-float-y tho T_T and no, I don’t
take drugs ^^; )
Oh, and “Don’t Say You Love Me” is playing now… god I love
my jinx! xD
(neko’s jinx: if the radio/player
is on, when I am paying attention the least to it, it will play a song that
at the moment xDすごいね?)