Adult-FanFiction.org : Anime

Like A Rolling Stone	By : CyreliaJ Category: +M to R > One Piece Views: 3881 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I don't own One Piece or any of its characters. I'm also not making any money off of this.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Note: I should have known this would never stay 2 chapters. Shooting for 3 in any case. So close to the smut I can taste it. Warning for language, and some attempt at humor and a weird mix of voyeurism/exhibitionism that's not particularly intentional but pretty unavoidable. Also bonus points for anyone guessing the 2 random anime references in this and part 1. Enjoy and thanks for reading!
   There are days when Zoro has no idea what the hell is wrong with his dick. His brain, sensible thing that it is has spend the past several hours trying to reconcile the shit in perspective of Sanji, weirdo cook extraordinaire from dickhead rival to dickhead fuckbuddy. His dick on the other hand has been jumping like a dog with a pile of meaty bones in front of it at just the faint possibility of having something to rub on or rub in that’s not his hand. It’s not a particularly welcome reminder. Desire. Lust. Those are the sorts of distractions that he cannot allow himself. If he’s to become the greatest swordsman, if he’s to become without peer in the entirety of the world then such things have no place in his daily training. Except of course when such needs make themselves such a nuisance they won’t stand for being ignored. But that’s what his right hand is there for- left as Johnny once told him when he wants to pretend it’s someone else. Zoro turns his left hand over absently as he sits on the bench watching Sanji turn the second round of meat over on the grill erected over the stove.
   That long suppressed juvenile part of his mind giggles at that word; erect. Zoro sighs, stabbing the wooden table with his fork in warning to Luffy’s meat questing hand without needing to glance down. Good for his reflexes. Bad for his concentration. Maybe that stupid eyebrow really had hypnotized him after all. He grunts in response to something Luffy says, Luffy or Usopp he’s not particularly sure. More than likely it’s Lufy whining about his stinginess or complaining that he’s still hungry. What Zoro is sure of is that whatever itch that damn cook has left him needing to scratch the fight they had earlier only made it that much worse. And sitting there in the hot kitchen while the stove is still going may be making Chopper across the table sleepy but all it’s doing is making him impatient and short tempered. He notes that Nami hasn’t made any annoying requests reminding him of his debt in the process which means she’s either busy with work or his bad mood has somehow created a big “Do Not Disturb” aura around him to anyone even remotely paying attention.
“C’mon, Zoro you’re not even eating it!” That does not of course include Luffy and defiantly Zoro shoves the entire remainder of the steak in his mouth not caring how ridiculous he must look.
   How long has it been anyway, weeks? Months? He tries to remember as he chews rather awkwardly if there even was a time since joining the Straw Hats. No, he’s pretty sure it’s been an endless gauntlet of fight and fight some more with a bit of ridiculous antics thrown in for good measure. That’s more than fine by him but it seems that it’s no longer good enough for sword number four. He looks down at the heaping side of the el diablo whatever Sanji had proclaimed while setting dishes in front of Nami and Robin prattling like an idiot about the ingredients. It’s hot, spicy, and kicks his tongue’s ass which makes him wonder if that wasn’t designed to deter Luffy from swallowing without chewing.
   He watches Luffy spitting fire after some bites and chuckles softly as he finally finishes the meat with a hard swallow. Leave it to that asshole cook to… Zoro watches him again and takes a long hard swallow of ale when Sanji bends over to retrieve what he’s guessing is some other course from the oven judging by the smell. God how’s that stupid song go again? Seven days at sea can make you hungry for a poke? It’s been a helluva lot longer than seven days and come to think of it he was getting laid a lot more regularly when he was on his own. He’d gone from girls to whores to a few bounties and those few times dodging a knife in the pillow had converted the rest of his bed partners from there on to criminals, murderers, or just a few dangerous one night stands that left any normal encounters lacking. He licks the scab on his lip thoughtfully, still tasting blood where Sanji’s foot had split it earlier.
That was as hot as it was infuriating.
   In the end it was Nami- as usual- who’d ended the fight. Maybe she was worried he’d actually kick Sanji’s ass one of these days and then who’d so willingly be her bitch? Zoro glances at her half in his line of sight and can’t help but wonder if she really never has let Sanji perform any other services for her. Now there’s a conquest Sanji can have with his blessing. He diverts his eyes quickly so he doesn’t stare too long and give her any weird ideas about even more ways to milk him for money. She’s busy talking to Robin anyway thank God and Zoro thinks, eating more pasta that for a guy looking at him like he wanted to untie his pants with his teeth Sanji sure is a giant fucking prick tease.
“And for the ladies one extra special round of-“
“Hey, Sanji!” Luffy says nothing else as Sanji carelessly slams down a giant bowl of rustic peasant rolls which while good in their own right are nothing compared to the herbed focaccia that he’s drizzling with olive oil. Zoro throws a few rolls on his plate leaving Usopp and Luffy to fight over the rest and thinks if he fucks that asshole cook he’d better be the one getting the special bread for a change. Hearts in his eyes, pouring more wine, singing the praises of the angels or whatever stupid shit he’s spouting, Sanji makes an ass of himself as usual. Zoro snorts into his beer knowing that’ll be a cold day in hell when he gets anything close to that. On second thought the women can have their fucking bread.
   Luffy wants more meat and Zoro doesn’t know why Sanji didn’t just fry it all at once but he knows better than to actually ask. Another plate of sea king tongue is put down and of all the tongue he thought he’d be getting tonight… He curses to himself as a large gulp of beer goes down the wrong pipe and it takes every bit of willpower to hold his mouth closed, swallow the rest and at least leave his embarrassment at a loud series of coughs minus any drink spitting across the table. He has no idea where that came from only knows that as he sets the glass down and nearly chokes to death on beer and on his dick’s god awful sense of humor and timing that there’s a rubbery hand pounding on his back. Zoro coughs harder hunched over the table as Chopper yells at Luffy that he’s only making it worse. And right at that moment Sanji decides to grace them all with his seated presence walking right past Zoro the long way around the table. He stops just as Zoro starts to catch his wheezing breath and the rest of the table’s stopped looking at him.
   “If you choke that easily,” he whispers in a low throaty voice that’s a world removed from the simpering trill he throws the women, “then maybe I’ll be too much for you after all.” Zoro watches him take his seat, watches the slim lines of his body and that one smoldering eye as he picks the bottle back up. His first thought watching that smug bastard take his seat is that he’s a fucking dead man. The second comes at the same moment when Sanji turns that visible eye to him not swooning and ridiculous but hot, heated, making him almost squirm in the seat as the redness fades from his face. You’re going to regret saying that, love cook. Zoro doesn’t look away but matches the stare with one of his own until it’s Sanji whose gaze falls to the plate, shoulders tight, chest faintly twitching with a shuddering breath.
Zoro decides unlike the rest to skip dessert.
   Later that night he isn’t sure why exactly he had imagined more exciting scene than this. Zoro had imagined as he watched Sanji spooning rapidly melting raspberry gelato past his lips that there was going to follow some half starved groping, hastily shed clothing, half naked rutting in the shadows of the cabin outside where no one could see or maybe even five minutes of mutual masturbation in the bathroom or the cannon room or hell anything except a snippy remark to make himself scarce while Sanji went about washing the dishes like he always did. Whatever. He didn’t know, didn’t care what the hell was going through Sanji’s mind. He had half a mind of his own to tell him he could spend the evening with Rosy and her five friends except there again came that look.
   Quick, blink quick like the slash of Mihawk’s sword Sanji glanced up at him from the table as he was collecting plates, cigarette dangling precariously from between his lips. He looked like he wanted to say something. Shit if Zoro’s past experiences were anything to go by he looked like he wanted to cut the crap and swallow something other than smoke, but it was gone just as soon as he’d seen it and by the time he’d finished working himself into a frenzy of katas an hour after dinner he’d gone to bed he was wondering if he hadn’t dreamed this entire goddamn thing. Except that Zoro doesn’t often dream. If he did he might not find sleep the easy solace that it was. He isn’t dreaming now as he drifts between consciousness and the warm oblivion of sleep hands behind his head on the well worn couch of the men’s cabin. He might have expected sleep not to come easily but it usually did and tonight is no different.
   He’d laid there at first, silently cursing Sanji and debating if it was worth waiting for them all to drift off so he could take care of the burgeoning problem on his own. In the end he’d decided that he’d pay Sanji back tomorrow with a good hard ass kicking and not give him the satisfaction of knowing that he’d gotten him good. And thus Zoro considered the matter settled in his mind even as his eyes had shut to that last tawdry image of pale blue eyes that seemed to be undressing him where he stood in those fleeting seconds in the kitchen. And it’s much to his annoyance now those same blue eyes that he finds hovering above him when he opens his own at last.    There are times when he sleeps deeply. There are times when he sleeps so soundly on the rough seas nothing short of a krakken or God himself can wake him; most times if he’s being perfectly honest with himself. Tonight, nerves and senses on a knife’s edge is not one of those nights. Zoro feels his lip curl in a growl as he looks up, eyes long accustomed to quickly adjusting in darkness. He breathes in smoke blown into his face and realizes just as he realizes that everyone else is still asleep that Sanji is in fact sitting on top of him as if he were an extension of the damn furniture.
   There are some- perhaps most- who wouldn’t think Roronoa Zoro to be a particularly imaginative man but while his mind doesn’t wander in sleep it often does when he’s awake. Not in battle- never in battle- but there are plenty of other times that he’s allowed himself to drift in a haze of pictures, sometimes silent, more often not. And if he were to dream up this unlikely scenario Sanji would be sitting in a far more convenient position than he currently is. He’s sitting on his legs sideways like an old chair and Zoro has half a mind to sit up and shove him off on principle. Except then he shifts and looks down and Zoro is about to yell at him to move his bony ass when he realizes with a sudden sense of arousal that Sanji’s ass seated on his thighs is far from bony.
“Hey, pervert is this some weird fantasy of yours?” he hisses softly.
   Sanji, for his part continues looking down and when Zoro lets his eyes move down Sanji’s face with only a brief detour to those lips, he sees Sanji in far less clothing than he thinks he ever has before. The pervert sleeps one step shy of a suit for God’s sake. Not tonight. Tonight he’s wearing less clothing than even Zoro. Tonight is nothing but light pants loosely tied and if his body sense is true then nothing under that either. God that… shouldn’t be nearly as hot as his dick is finding it. Dammit if you’re gonna do something just do it already, would ya? And do it fast ‘cause I really don’t want an audience for all this shit. But it doesn’t seem like Sanji’s in any particular mood to be quick as he slowly tamps a few ashes into what Zoro thinks is a large seashell on the empty sideways laundry barrel- one of a million makeshift oceanic ashtrays- but he’s not certain.
   “Your swords,” Sanji says which Zoro thinks has to be the dumbest fucking thing he’s ever heard in a situation like this and he’s been in a hell of a lot quite a few weirder than this.
“God help me I’ll never understand what the hell weird shit goes through your head they’re right there,” he inclines his head back to the carefully arranged trio of swords solicitously leaned against the barrel at the other end of the couch wondering what Sanji could possibly be going on about.
“I guess I caught you off guard then.” He sits back smirking, the asshole. “What happened to all that awareness you brag about, Moss Head? Too busy thinking about drawing your sword to remember how to use the other three?”
Zoro growls, the taunt lighting the usual fire, the usual drive to fight, but he tamps it down, taking a deep breath as he shifts, large hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as he debates clocking Sanji a good one or grabbing his hair and wrenching down that miserable head of his to that very “sword” he’s mocking.
   Instead puts his right hand on Sanji’s hip.
“I know how you feel.” He watches pleased as Sanji does a double blink, fingers frozen around the cigarette uncertainly. That really shouldn’t be as goddamn hot as it is but watching Sanji off balance is just as nice as seeing him hot and bothered. Zoro trails that hand hard over the top of his thigh squeezing, hearing the soft hiss of breath. “I know how your legs feel, idiot,” he clarifies feeling the grin start to split his face as he feel’s Sanji’s thigh tense beneath him. He’s stiff. His body is completely taut as if he hasn’t thought this through all the way. Well hell that’s fine by Zoro- he’s not about to let this turn into another long drawn out mind fuck and that means keeping Sanji off balance.
Off balance huh? Zoro takes that idea literally sitting up, that hand moving lightning quick at the same time that his legs buck that idiot off the couch. His forearm lifts up in that same moment to catch Sanji across the throat. It catches- Sanji’s discipline too tight to allow him to raise him arms to block when his legs can’t. It’s that knowledge that makes Zoro temper the force enough just to knock him down. He hears the shell scatter as the barrel is hit from the side and he hears Sanji swear as his head cracks the hard planks past the rug. Huh, maybe I hit him harder than I thought.
   “Shitty fucking animal, what the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Sanji voice halts midway to yell keeping at a harsh whisper as he looks up to where Zoro has already rather neatly rolled on top of him knees pinning his thighs both down and apart. Zoro sees the frown on Sanji’s face as he remains still save for the next draw of smoke. The light illuminates enough of a shadow in his eyes before they flick to the side looking irritated. “I think you broke the shitty ashtray,” Sanji says as a follow up, fingers holding the cigarette just a bit tighter than normal.
“That’s not all I’m gonna break,” Zoro answers moving his fingers down to the loose drawstrings of Sanji’s pants. He can hear everyone breathing and really if Sanji’s dead set on doing it here it seems best to skip the preliminaries before anyone wakes up and starts asking a bunch of weird questions..
   He can feel Sanji’s stomach muscles tighten, he can feel soft partially sticky skin against his knuckles, that light dusting of hair trailing down from his navel, can feel the tension and hear another curse as Sanji puts the cigarette out between his fingers and drops it to the side.
“What the fuck kind of thing is that to say to someone you’re about to fuck, you shitty mosshead?!” That exclamation is definitely a lot louder than the last and Zoro freezes looking back to where Usopp seems to stir and where Chopper is definitely sitting up from his hammock rubbing one eye. Dammit, are you trying to wake everyone up?! What kind of idiot just screams something that obvious?! And it’s that inattention that leaves Sanji free to yank a leg and catch him across the chest neatly reversing their positions. Zoro grunts falling back noting absently that Sanji is in a much better position this time with strong thighs straddling him. He sees the intensity of that stare boring down on him, forgets for a second the reindeer screaming that they shouldn’t be fighting and God God he feels Sanji’s thighs squeeze tight, feels him grind slowly against him and he brings a hand up about to clamp it over that damn noisy mouth when Sanji slams it down hard by the wrist in an unusual use of his hands locking the other on either side of his head. Well hell he supposes Sanji does distinguish between fighting and fucking after all.
   “Who’s breaking who, now?” Sanji half purrs bending down that fringe of hair starting to tickle his face. Really Zoro thought that was a perfectly sexy thing to say and that Mugen guy sure as hell liked it… that Mugen guy who’d gotten away after meeting up with his partner and trashing the bar they’d been in along with half the pier and maybe he didn’t get the bounty but he wasn’t half as angry about it as he should’ve been. Zoro smirks at him feeling Sanji’s fingers to his pulse a lot harder- a lot stronger than he’d have thought the love cook could manage. He flexes his fingers and pushes up with his hips feeling friction and heat and wishing like hell Sanji would get on with it.
“If you’re gonna sit like that, Mr. Dartboard, why don’t you do something useful like-”
“Usopp wake up, they’re gonna kill each other!”
   Like maybe explaining to Chopper that for a doctor he doesn’t seem to know a hell of a lot about the birds and the bees or the birds and the birds and a little medical discretion because… Because Zoro cranes his neck and looks upside down to the hammock where Usopp is looking at them both squinty eyed and dammit it if they wake up Luffy he’s going to murder them both- all three- someone’s going to die, that’s his point here.
“Wha-? Chopper? Is it time to get up?” Zoro doesn’t need to keeping looking to know that Usopp is looking over at them probably putting two and two together any minute. “Sanji?” Usopp’s voice is clearing up and Zoro’s jaw is clenched tight in irritation. The increased pressure to his wrist, the curl of that already curled eyebrow on Sanji’s face betrays an equal annoyance and Zoro wonders what he plans on doing about this. We couldn’t do this on deck? Okay that woman’s probably there but one woman is a hell of a lot better than this sideshow down here.
“We’re not fighting. We’re busy. Both of you go back to sleep.” And don’t wake Luffy should be a given. Zoro looks up at the ceiling mentally counting down who’s going to turn this into a fiasco first, flexing his fingers absently as his hands throb from the blood stoppage.
   “Hey cook…” Hey, he doesn’t feel like laying like this all day if Sanji isn’t gonna fucking move. Hey maybe it’s worth risking a move to the deck or the bathroom or hey… Hey maybe right now Sanji’s attention is back to more important matters because that grip loosens back from his wrists again, pins and needles in Zoro’s palms.
“If I let you go, are we doing this or can’t you draw your sword in front of a crowd?” he taunts sitting back with a look promising anything. Zoro only half hears Chopper in the background as he demands to know what Sanji’s doing on top of him like that if they’re not fighting.” Zoro works the blood back into his hands watching Sanji’s nimble fingers completing the untying of drawstrings and hook ing the waistband of his pants. Usopp at least seems to figure it out with a half stammered near shriek.
“Y-you two aren’t... You’re not...” Sanji looks at him those fingers stopping their movement as he casts another sour look in their direction.
“We are.” He looks back to Zoro with a tug to the bottom of his white shirt. “Is that part of the package or does it come off?”
“You can’t do it while we’re all in here!”
“Watch me,” Sanji fires back flatly. Okay seems like we’re just a big ball of classy, aren’t we? Fuck, Zoro, are you that desperate to fuck this asshole’s asshole that you can’t... Oh shit... Zoro hiccups or laughs or something at that stupid thought that he swallows before he just starts laughing for no reason and scares the hell out of everyone.
   “You two are both men how are you...” He can see Chopper running down a mental anatomy list and that laughter is threatening to come to the forefront again. He almost drags Sanji down to kiss him just to stop it but the thought of stubbly ashtray over his face halts that thought pretty fast. Yeah, no, not happening.
“Well you know they ah...” And now Usopp tries to explain and in spite of himself Zoro can’t help the eyeroll and snorts thinking if Usopp has ever even seen another person naked- hell he’ll even give him male or female- then he’ll eat his shirt right here and now. “They ah...” There’s another stammer and Zoro snorts again tugging his shirt up and off. They don’t want to watch no one’s making them after all and he’s done it in far less ideal conditions than this before. He throws his shirt back up on the couch deciding the haramaki would be easier to tug over his head than down where Sanji is currently sitting when Chopper’s scream makes him nearly bite his tongue.
   “Is that why you needed my enema bag this morning?!” Wow. That... Zoro stops midway to pulling the haramaki over his head to just process that. That sure you were getting fucked, were you? He isn’t sure whether or not to be offended or well... Well really. He snickers as he tosses the cloth on the couch along with his shirt looking at Sanji’s red face as he stammers out what might be words, what might be his smoking catching up with him Zoro has no idea. Either way he laughs. Hard. Like really hard as Sanji yells back that it’s no one’s fucking business why he needed the shitty thing and that just sets Zoro off even more.
“Oh God you...”
“It’s our business now!” That’s a high pitched scream from Usopp.
“Whose business is it when all of us have to hear “Oh Kaya” ten times a week?!”
“That’s different! That’s a pure innocent love and not a-“
“Didn’t sound so innocent to me, virgin boy.”
“That’s! I... Wh-who’s a virgin?! I’ve been with hundreds of women! Thousands! They call me Long John Silver and that’s not because of my-” Zoro winces blocking that out looking instead to Luffy who’s somehow sleeping through this entire ordeal.
   “Well shuttup already, both of you, you’re going to wake Luffy up.”
“M-maybe if he wakes up he’ll tell you to go upstairs so we can sleep!”
“I refuse to put on such a display in front of my darling Robin’s innocent eyes!”
“You know I have a “can’t listen to other people doing it disease” that makes me break out in hives.”
“You don’t seem to have a “can’t jack off where other people can hear you” disease!”
“Maybe,” Zoro grits out getting sick of staring at Sanji’s half naked form doing nothing useful while his hard on dies a painful death, “maybe if you wake Luffy up the idiot will want to join us.”
“I’m not hearing this...” From Chopper again- muffled at least- which makes Zoro feel almost guilty but in for a penny in for a pound and at least that seems to quiet everyone down.
   “Guess I don’t have to ask who’s taking it then,” Zoro murmurs at last watching Sanji shift one leg out of the thin material and then the other. His eyes are glued to the line of hair going from navel to hard cock, hands paused at the waist of his own pants just watching. Damn who knew he had a body like that? Hell who knew he was hung like that? Sanji’s cock is half soft hanging down between his legs thick swollen and Sanji snorts, looking up from beneath lashes mouth moving as if he wished there were a cigarette pressed between his lips. Zoro makes a note to remember that desperate look.
“I’m doing you a favor, muscle head, I’m sure I’ll have an easier time with your baby dick.”
“Maybe I oughta let you choke on those words first,” Zoro fires back, his cock already starting to get hard again. Yeah, that mouth on his cock, that’s exactly what he needs. Sanji seems to read his mind, moving fast, hands replacing Zoro’s tugging his pants off hastily, leaving one ankle stuck. Zoro half kicks it off carelessly watching the top of Sanji’s head as he kneels between his legs and looks up at last.
“Let’s see what you’re packing then, shithead.”
- 1
- 2
- 3
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Like A Rolling Stone