Zoro Learns Some Manners

…so I’m just borrowing them for the sake of Yaoi. Once I’m done then I promise to wipe them off and give them back ;) Any resemblance to real people is coincidental - these characters are pure fantasy!


Warning: contains a lot of very strong language and steamy Yaoi / boysecks (Zoro x Sanji)


This chapter is dedicated to Saiyako who is always a great source of Zoro-wisdom. I’m sorry if the girl-love in the previous chapter scared any of my loyal yaoi readers - I promise that there will be nothing more explicit. I just couldn’t help myself… XD


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Zoro sat in the crows nest. It was the best place to think. The crew had gone ashore and were all holed up in another hotel. He couldn’t believe that the sea witch had forked out for accommodation two islands in a row. Normally she’d try to make them stay on the ship. She had been up to something though, and the swordsman had a bad feeling about it. She had been watching his behaviour and had even spoken to him about it. She had said he was ‘touchy’ about the cook. She didn’t normally pull any punches, but even the fact that she mentioned it… Was it a warning? What if she knew?


Sanji would go ballistic.


The swordsman tapped the hilt of Wadou against his chin. It was always comforting to have the sword near him, it helped him to think.


No choice then really, he was going to have to make that idiot come around. No more fucking about. The cook was already changing the way he behaved in subtle ways. He had told Zoro he trusted him. He knew that already, but to hear him say it?


He never thought he’d hear him say it.


Maybe it showed he was starting to change the way Sanji felt… There was also the fact that the blonde was standing on the deck below him, chain-smoking, and swearing. Every now and then Zoro could hear his name swirl up, riding the rising torrent of the cook’s abuse.


He grinned and then frowned. He loved that he was playing on Sanji’s mind, but if all he did was piss the guy off… How could they be together? How could they talk?


He supposed that they would need to talk without killing each other eventually if this was ever going to work. Fuck.


Was what attracted him so much to Sanji actually just a side-effect of how much he pissed the cook off? The passion, the violence, and the never-say-die-spit-in-your-face-hellfire that made him a blazing inferno of sex…


It could be attributed to anger.


The blonde’s temper was as hot as his red curry, and twice as much of a pain in the ass…


No. That’s not all. He made the guy laugh. He made him come.


Luffy had said he loved the cook, and he was right. He just didn’t know it at the time. He had told the Captain it was Sanji’s rules.


Not anymore.


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Sanji looked out into the shifting sea. He didn’t even know why. It wasn’t like he didn’t spend every single day staring at it. He exhaled a billowing cloud of smoke and steam then put his cigarette back to his lips. At least the smoke kept him warm on the inside. The wind was biting cold and the first few flakes of snow stung his cheeks.


As ragged clouds sped across the sky, he pulled his furry coat tighter around his lean frame. It was just his luck to end up having to guard the ship in the middle of a damn snow storm. And where was Zoro!? It wasn’t as if Sanji expected him to come back for him, but he had expected him to come back for sex at least.


Damn marimo.


What had the green haired idiot done? When had he gone from being the object of Sanji’s amusement to… this? Whatever the hell it was.


Even Luffy had been asking what was going on. As if he knew! The fact that Luffy was asking at all was concerning him. It was sweet, but if he kept dumping them on supposedly-desert islands and trying to get Zoro to give a shit then things were just going to get ugly.


And what about the girls? Would the shock of discovering that he had been intimate with the marimo be too much for their fragile minds? They were both already traumatised by the horrors of their childhoods; the last thing he wanted to do was to upset them further. To realise that their sweet Prince had been tarnishing hands made only to caress them… He could just imagine their sweet round eyes wide with horror and fast filling with tears.


It would be unbearable!


Luffy had seemed ok with it though. After all, it looked like he was trying to set them up in his own weird way.


The kid knew just how to handle Zoro. One look from the Captain and he melted, laughed, and forgave everything. But they could never be that way. There was room for competition, passion, and lust between them but not much else. Where Luffy knew just what the swordsman wanted, Sanji was a stranger.


Even if he did… or he could…


Zoro was not for keeping. He wasn’t the sort of man that you could settle down with and build a log cabin in the fucking hills. He was a man who didn’t need - or want - anyone. Not like that, anyway.


Not like him.


And he used to be so damn keen on being a bachelor…


The cook sighed and was enveloped in a smoky haze. He ground out his cigarette angrily on the sole of his shoe and watched the snow vanish into the sea. He regretted it immediately. It had taken him ages to get that smoke lit in the wind and he had been chain smoking so that he wouldn’t have to go inside, lighting each new smoke off the dying embers of the last. He wanted to use the cold night to clear his head and focus his thoughts. Instead he was standing on the icy deck in the middle of the night, waiting for a man - a MAN - who might never come.


He pulled a crumpled smoke from his packet and jammed his hand back into his coat as soon as possible. He swapped hands each cigarette to avoid frostbite, but he still had to light the damn thing somehow. He begrudgingly pulled his lighter from his pocket and began to strike it with slightly blue fingers.


“Shitty marimo making me feel like shit” he muttered.


He grabbed the edge of his coat and held it up against the wind to try to block the rising gale enough to kindle a flame. He cursed as the lighter spluttered and went out yet again. A strong hand was placed on his shoulder; he could feel the swordsman’s presence directly behind him.


Fucker took his time.


The cook dropped his knees and swept out a leg behind him. Zoro flipped back and then landed on his feet a few metres back. Sanji could see his teeth gleaming in the moonlight, the rest of him hidden by a shadowy silhouette.


Sanji pulled the smoke from his lips with a flourish and put his hands on his hips.


Anytime you’re ready, shit-head.


The figure bent down and the cook heard the swords being placed gently on the deck. No swords?! Maybe it wasn’t Zoro after all. There was an easy way to find out though; he knew Zoro’s fighting style like the recipe for Tangerine jam. Off by heart. Plus, the asshole had really annoyed him, taking so damn long.


Even he couldn’t have gotten lost. The hotel was practically visible from the docks! And even if he had managed it, in the way that only Zoro could, he should have learned how useless he was by now and left a trail of bread crumbs or some shit.


He stood and waited for the swordless swordsman to make his move. He tapped the end of his polished shoe on the deck and relaxed all his muscles for ultimate reach. Bastard wasn’t going to move.


Fine then!


The cook flipped onto his hands and threw his whole weight into the momentum of his rotation. He aimed a heavy hit at Zoro’s stomach; the swordsman sidestepped, and deflected the blow with crossed forearms. Oh, it was definitely him.


“Don’t fucking sneak up on me like that, shithead!” Sanji said, trying to keep any other emotions out of his voice.


“You make it so easy though, you’re too damn loud.” The deep voice was level and calm. It just pissed Sanji off more.


“What are you doing here, anyway? No-one to annoy in the bar?” The cook glared into the dark.


“I prefer to annoy you.”


He hadn’t changed at all. He was just like always, trying to find new ways to give Sanji the shits. Well, he succeeded. And now he’d have to take the consequences of deliberately pissing off someone with a very short temper. The blonde snap-kicked high, nearly taking off Zoro’s head, and then, when the idiot moved predictably away, he took his opening.


“Cotelette!” The cook dropped into a handstand and shot an upwards kick into the swordsman’s ribs.


“Selle!” He twisted his wrists fast and reversed the turn, landing a hard hit on Zoro’s lower back. The swordsman slammed into the deck in a pile of limbs. He rolled once, pushed off with his hands, and somehow managed to get back up. Lucky he could take a beating, because there was sure as hell one coming.


“I’ll send you to the 59th level of hell, asshole!” the cook screamed.


Sanji kept turning and struck out with a double kick to Zoro’s mid-section. The swordsman sidestepped and swept around the cook’s long legs. Once they were safely past, he jumped on the cook to force him to twist his legs over to defend himself. He wouldn’t use those precious hands after all… The deadly heels swept up and over the swordsman’s head. He re-directed the force of the kick past his shoulder and slammed his hips into the movement. Sanji spun around and before he could twist his shoulders into another strike, Zoro had knocked him over. In a quick twist, Zoro’s legs entwined with the cook’s. Sanji turned his knees out and struggled, but it was too late. His hip felt like it was going to pop out of joint.


The bastard has used his own leg-lock against him.


He really was paying attention… He’d kept moving, he’d used his legs more, and he took advantage of both the dark, and the cook’s refusal to risk his precious hands. Normally he would never let himself be caught by this kind of move, it was his style, but Zoro never used his legs that way. He deliberately faked so the cook would think he was going for his throat. He never faked.


And he knew Sanji would never expect it.


“Waiting for someone?” the swordsman growled into his ear. Sanji could hear his earrings jangling and feel his warm breath on his icy cheek.


“It’s called being on watch. You should try it sometime, asshole” the cook spat back.


Zoro stood up and let the blonde get to his feet. He took out his extremely crumpled cigarette and turned his back on the smug bastard to try to get enough shelter to light it.


“Would you like a hand?” Zoro purred into his ear. Suddenly two gleaming arched blades crossed in front of Sanji’s face.


“Um… what the hell are you doing?” Sanji asked, not wanting to move too much with two katanas inches away from his face.


“Just stand still and breathe in…”


Sanji clasped his cigarette to his lips and tried to hold it *still*. A light formed where the two swords crossed; the blades were rubbed along each other, and a growing spark chased the point where they met. The swordsman moved fluidly, keeping the blaze hovering at the tip of the cook’s cigarette. He inhaled deeply and the spark grew to an ember, and a puff of smoke disappeared into the cold air.


The katanas disappeared from view and Sanji sighed in relief.


Zoro stepped out beside him and grinned widely.


“Impressed?”


“You could have set my fringe on fire.”


Mildly impressed. No more. Had Zoro learned that trick just for him?


“Che” the swordsman shrugged and leaned on the railing. He was only wearing his standard gear; haramaki, white singlet, and pants. No matter how much he raved on about that ridiculous green piece of cloth, it was sure as hell not enough to keep warm in this weather.


“Why are you so damn happy anyway?” Sanji tried to sound pissed and he hoped it worked. It came pretty naturally, anyway.


“You said wait till now, and I waited. What? You changed your mind?” Big, dark eyes bored into his. What sort of a question was that?!


The cook blushed and puffed furiously on his smoke. Shitty impertinent bastard.


The eyes nodded their approval. “Good.”


Zoro continued to gaze at him with unwavering intensity. The blonde coughed and looked away. He glanced down at the swordsman’s bare arms. They were unusually pale and had goose bumps the size of actual geese.


“Aren’t you cold?!” Sanji asked.


Zoro looked down at his white-grey arms and snorted in derision. The idiot was doing it on purpose.


“Get inside before you freeze to death!” The cook turned and started shoving the half frozen - and still grinning - swordsman across the deck.


“I thought you were on watch” Zoro said, dodging as a polished black shoe nearly wrapped around his face.


“Fuck you.”


Zoro sidestepped and was suddenly behind the cook,


“I was going to pin you to the deck, make you come so hard you scream, and then fuck you, actually.”


Sanji’s heart rate went up, and he blinked a couple of times. Zoro could not have just said that. A low growl confirmed it,


“I want to hear you scream…”


Sanji tried to come up with something witty. His mouth moved, but all the blood went straight down.


“Get inside” he stammered.


Zoro chuckled in his ear, scooped up his swords, and then strode past him.


Sanji followed the gorgeous ass into the galley. It was only when Zoro turned around that he realised the wood stove had been lit, and the room was warm and cosy.


“How the hell…?”


“I came and lit it earlier. If you’d gone inside you would have seen it.” Zoro smirked.


Sanji fumed silently.


Shit head had left him out the cold thinking that he’d been stood up! The swordsman stepped in front of him and began to undo the buttons on his thick winter coat. Sanji blew a large cloud of smoke into his face. The swordsman ignored him, his fingers still working at the zip. He pushed the coat off the cook’s shoulders, Sanji heard it hit the floor, and then deft fingers were caressing him. Even through his shirt his skin quivered under Zoro’s cold fingers, nails raked his belly, and then circled around his nipples.


The cook was torn. He was pissed off at Zoro and didn’t want the shitty-swordsman anywhere near him. But he wanted his hands, his tongue, his cock…


But he had his principles after all. He glared out from under his fringe and flicked his cigarette into the sink. He could keep his dignity and still get what he wanted. Zoro’s fighting might have improved but he was still completely predictable when it came to sex.


“The only screaming I’m going to do is at you to get the fuck out of my kitchen.” He raised up one knee between him and Zoro, it was meant to be a threat only, but Zoro - of course - saw it as an invitation. The swordsman grabbed his knee and swung him around, pushing him backwards, and down onto the wooden bench. He landed with a crunch and Zoro smothered him, pushing him into the hard wood.


The swordsman’s body was heavy and warm, and it fit perfectly into the cook’s every contour, his harness pressing into Sanji’s own. It was as if they were made just for this, just to be each other’s fuel, each other’s fire.


“Get off me; you’ll squash my shitty smokes” Sanji growled, stifling a smile and revelling in the feeling of the rippled muscles rubbing against his stomach. Zoro was propped on his elbows, but every part of him from his perfect abs down was pressed deliciously flush against the cook’s hyper-sensitive skin. He could feel Zoro’s heat suffusing his body, and pooling deep between his legs.


“You like it when I’m in control” Zoro growled, as he ground his weight down.


“Why would I like some sweaty meat-head huffing all over me?” The cook wriggled one leg out from under the mass of muscle and hooked it over Zoro’s hips. He got good purchase on the bench and then threw the swordsman off him onto the floor. He grabbed a fistful of shirt, rolled with Zoro, and landed on him on the floor.


“You’re the one who likes being controlled too much - or don’t you remember screaming ‘harder’ in my ear?” He leaned over and bit Zoro’s throat, eliciting a guttural growl from the stoic moss-head. He could feel calloused fingers exploring under his shirt; his body tingled under the swordsman’s light touch. His skin burned with the contact, leaving a hungry desperate trail behind the swordsman’s caress. It was like every part of him ached for Zoro; for more touch, more heat, more sensation. He wanted Zoro in him, all around him… his weight, his fingers, his heat, his smell…


Zoro bucked his hips, groaning at the friction, and grabbed Sanji’s wrists when he rolled his hips forward.


“And you were the one who couldn’t wait to go seme on my ass” he whispered into the cook’s ear.


He instantly regretted his choice of words.


Sanji laughed so hard at the accompanying expression that he lost all of his concentration; Zoro took the opportunity to flip the smug bastard onto his back and pin him down again. This time he wasn’t going to let Sanji tie him up with those heavenly-long legs, either.


“You thought it would be so much fun to play games with me, didn’t you cook? Learned your lesson?” He brushed his lips across Sanji’s collar bones and began to loosen his tie, and undo the top buttons of his shirt.


“Fuck you,” Sanji’s voice was breathy and heavy as Zoro opened his shirt and began to kiss his chest, “have you learned any manners?”


A hot tongue brushed across his nipple and dexterous fingers undid and untucked his shirt. The cook pushed Zoro’s shoulders back and glared at him, his lips red and pupils wide with lust. The swordsman smirked and grabbed the blonde’s wrists before he could struggle, and held them down behind Sanji’s head.


“No” Zoro said. He left one hand pinning the cook’s wrists, and the other trailed down until he was stroking Sanji’s tight-so-fucking-tight trousers. He murmured happily,


“See, you love it.”


Damned if he’d ever admit it to Zoro.


“Still not screaming, baka.”


“Just you wait.”


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