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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
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Note: Thank you everyone who's reading! I appreciate your positive response. Once again there's a reference to an encounter with an anime character outside the series. Bonus points to anyone who gets all 3 so far. Here's where it goes from 0-pr0n so brace yourselves for a rather vivid bj and a few more attempts at humor.
Warnings for language, sex, sort of voyeurism but not willingly, and somewhat incidental exhibitionism as well.
C&C always welcome!
   Sanji has always considered himself a man very much aware of his own nature and failings. He has always acknowledged fault where he has found it and at least to the best of his knowledge none of those faults lie in his ability to talk to women. Needless to say it surprises him when Zoro’s low whisper that follows his challenge prompts him to question whether or not he ought to drop that particular line from his repertoire.
“Bet you’ve never seen one that big before.”
Sanji snorts. Perhaps it’s a matter of sexes. Of course a woman would not have reason to find such a statement offensive on a personal level. Then again the odds are good Zoro had made the remark along the same lines of their usual rivalry just to bait him. In which case…
“Shuttup,” Sanji answers automatically finding himself staring down with every part of his self control holding his eyes back from getting comically big. He almost reaches up to his face for a cigarette that isn’t there.
   Big? Is Zoro shitting him? He’s never considered himself a man to have anything to be ashamed of but there’s a point where big morphs into obscene which is just… Which is just why you’re hard as hell just looking at it, right? He ducks his head almost afraid that his thoughts might be read by some magic or that he- like the idiotic sky priest Chopper fought- might be speaking out loud in the madness of it all. “Thank you, Mistress Esdeath,” he whispers to himself chewing on his lower lip. Thank you for three unforgettable nights. Thank you for showing me there’s so much more to sex than I ever imagined. Thank you for teaching me submission, pain, the exquisite ecstasy of kneeling before you licking your boots and allowing you to strap that monster on and fuck me on my knees but…
   But it is not the buxom, blue haired goddess Sanji sees when he steals a half nervous, half aroused glance upwards from beneath his long fringe. He takes that moment to recollect his thoughts because if there is one thing a gentleman does not do it is envision the body of another over that of his partner. And that partner this time is Zoro. It is Roronoa Zoro stretched out with every shadow of every crevice of defined hard muscle, of broad chest, of everything that is very clearly undeniably male that greets his eyes. No, not simply male, that male, that frustrating arrogant mossy muscle head who he cannot fathom giving such submission to. That male looking down now with an impatient lust that shouldn’t make him automatically reach out and feel thick firm flesh hotly engulfed by his hand. That is… Sanji swallows and looks back down, looks back to Zoro’s cock heavy in his right hand as the fingers on his left curl tightly into the rug on the cabin floor. Just who exactly is control here?
   Sanji isn’t sure of the answer but somehow he is certain that his answering look mirrors that same lust wrapped and ribboned with months of heated rivalry, fights for dominance, emotions running just as hot and sweaty as he feels right now. And that’s the answer, he decides, letting a wicked smile cross his face. I am. Of course I am. Because you’re going to be the one who loses control here whatever you seem to think.
“Hey mosshead,” Sanji taunts calling on a long swathe of memories, of sensations, of himself as the recipient as ingredients for a perfectly delectable dish that he’s about to serve up. “You might want to cover your mouth so you don’t wake the Captain.” He looks back down, resettling on his knees, missing but perfectly envisioning the expression of Zoro’s face rising to that challenge.
“Big talk from a-”
   “Just what are you two doing over there?!” Sanji hears Usopp’s near shriek cut through whatever Zoro was about to say his head stays bowed halfway to contact. “Just what does it look like?” is the first response that springs to mind as he lowers his face closer, breathing hotly breath blowing back when he speaks.
“I thought you didn’t want to know,” he teases, the playfulness in his voice for Zoro’s benefit alone. He knows he’s close enough now that his lips are crazy close- like steam from simmering consommé so close that he can taste the scent in the air as heat condenses on his face. Above him hears Zoro swear softly under his breath as that whisper teases his sensitive skin.
“I don’t!” That’s too quick, too loud of a protest from Usopp followed by a rustling, fumbling, a snap click and Sanji tries to remember if those goggles can see in the dark. He might have to borrow them. If they can show more than the shadows that his eyes show, if they can illuminate more than just lights and darks… Because Sanji knows just that he knows another encounter is going to be inevitable at this juncture that he wants to see what he’s doing far more vividly.
   For now his other senses will have to suffice and that heat blends brilliantly with his sense of smell- Zoro sweaty and salty like braised pork shoulder.
“Don’t think I’ll lose to you, cook,” spoken roughly, thickly, his ear detecting a hint of anticipation, he thinks aware that it might be nothing but lustful projection on his part. There isn’t any damn time for him to do more than act. Sanji’s mouth opens slowly, letting the tip penetrate past his lips, letting gravity, letting the hard girth spread his lips wider and his hands reach out catching Zoro’s wrists right when that shift of weight, that rustle alerts him to hands looking to grab hair. But he maintains that balance amidst curses, amidst hips pushing up urging him haste, letting his teeth scrape a warning pushing foreskin back, hearing Zoro’s hiss balance a sharp’s knife edge of pain. Don’t fucking rush me. He lets his hands loosen their grip feeling the pulse beneath skin ebb away faintly as his hands fall back to the tops of Zoro’s strong thighs digging nails in until he can feel the swollen head brush the back of his throat.
   Breathe in, out slowly, very slowly, relax. His arms strain holding straining hips and his can feel his own pulse increase as he breathes out, exhale, hot and humid his face damp as he feels that tickle, that automatic reflex that he ignores, flesh far more forgiving than that hard monstrosity ever was. Hard. God, Zoro is so incredibly hard but he feels the soft smooth flesh passing his lips, filling his mouth as he hollows his cheeks and gives a long slow suckslurp back up, purring low in his throat as he hears the curses louder, the fumble of hands and he looks up just as the tip passes back out to see Zoro’s trembling hands outlined in the dark curling what’s probably his bandana, shoving it between teeth and biting it down hard. That’s one point for me then. Who’s your shitty ball man now? Sanji’s laugh is nothing but a soft playful hiccup- triumphant but hot, not intending to piss Zoro off but let moss head know who’s in the lead.
   Like a surgeon, patient biting down on cloth while the doctor works, Sanji moves again, slowly, precisely, hearing another loud groan from behind the haramaki as once more his face hits the base diving deep, slow, torturously so and he hears the thump of Zoro’s fist pounding the rug as his hips still. Zoro’s body is taut, stomach tight, Sanji catches a soft hn from above him as he twists his head just a little to the right, the angle better, another desperate half gulping breath as his hands reach out, steadying on that same patch of carpet, sweaty palms trapping Zoro’s with just enough of a warning before his head plunges down quick, throat scraping raw as he fucks it up and down on Zoro’s cock. That hn grows louder, those hands turn palms up grabbing his almost intimately, almost making him lose his balance until Zoro squeezes hard nearly making him panic at the danger to his hands but that strength stopping carefully controlled as Zoro assumes his full weight and keeps him held there.
   Sanji turns his head, faintly, side to side tongue swiping anything he can manage until he backs off enough to breathe another gulping gasp of air, saliva sticky strung from his mouth to the tip of Zoro’s cock, the shaft wet, in his mind’s eye a glistening masterpiece reaching heavenwards to the joy of the master sculptor. Maybe Nami is right, maybe he really does say a lot of shitty nonsense. He shakes his head softly to himself considering Nami, Robin any other lady a distraction best left to the bright light of day where he can dream accompanied by rainbows and shimmering sunlight. This is dark. This is dilated pupils darkened to their utmost to even allow the outlines that he can currently see. Impulsively, he licks, long laps up, down, circling, catching Zoro’s cock as his tongue bats it around and bathes, mouth catching a rebound with a strong slurp, a series of sucks letting the skin stretch as his teeth lightly, carefully tug another series of moans. His face returns to being buried- Zoro hitching tense and Sanji dares him to lose it now- as the root of that thick monster burrows once more down his throat so quickly it causes that involuntary hitch of his esophagus.
   He feel Zoro squeeze his hands tighter at that motion and he forces his throat to constrict in response, hearing a soft squeak from behind the cloth, hearing Zoro breathing heavier and in turn he shifts on his knees pins and needles as the blood flow moves and hunched over he becomes acutely aware of just how fucking hard he is when his cock rubs his stomach. Sanji gasps, another squeeze of his throat and he pulls back breathless pulling his hands back encircling the base with his right giving a good hard squeeze- followed by a groan- that’s followed by him reaching down with his left hand slowly rubbing hard, calloused palm heating his own cock with hot friction until he feels rather than hears the groan from his own throat, the vibration hitting lingering soreness that makes him ten times harder rather than annoyed. Raw, aching, alive, his hips tilt longingly into his sweaty palm slowly rolling around until he thinks he’ll burst.
   Sanji’s right hand moves easily on Zoro’s shaft, he can feel skin stretched but still just that bit loose and he can feel when his thumb circles the top a slow pearl of sticky wet seeping out. He looks up, watching Zoro’s face looking at an impatient expression his mind fills in, looking at the heavy rise and fall of his chest and on impulse Sanji bends down and licks a long swipe across that tempting skin. He tastes salt, hears a surprised yelp and he bites down, the hard muscle of Zoro’s pectoral yielding beneath his teeth. He sucks, draws in skin, feels a strong hand clutching at his shoulder but it stops short of trying to move him. Sanji moves on his own, back down, bite suck, drawing all the blood to just below the surface drawing louder moans with each inch closer back to Zoro’s cock. He lets his teeth scrape over hip bone, moving back to center, letting go, letting the strange indignity of Zoro’s cock slapping his face cause his eyes to fall shut and allow another soft moan escape him- a soft barely breathed “yes” not quite caught.
   “You like that, mosshead?” he asks thinking that he shouldn’t particularly care whether Zoro likes it or not but seeing the stopped mid nod of a head gives him a smug sense of satisfaction that is starting to outweigh whatever inhibitions he still has. Zoro, panting, removes the cloth with a slightly trembling hand.
“Why don’t I show you if you think you’re man enough to take it,” he whispers back. They both ignore Usopp’s plaintive whine insisting they ought to be finished as long as it’s been followed by a half mumble asking what on earth could possibly be that involved or take that long. Really, Sanji is the only one of them with any need to be up earlier than the rest but that thought flickers out like a candle light.
“You think you’re man enough to give it to me? I think you were about to pass out just now.” He feels more than sees by intuition the feral grin in answer.
“Why don’t you try me, Curly Eyebrows? Last chance to back out if you’re chicken”
“Bring it, mosshead.” If you think I don’t know what I’m doing, think again. He stops his hand from once again reaching for a cigarette that isn’t there and nearly freezes when he feels Zoro’s hand unexpectedly on his head.
   “Ch’ what the-“
“Then you better get it good and wet, cook ‘cause I don’t want to hear any whining later.” That stops him wanting more than to give Zoro a good kick to the chest but the words more than that steely grip are what capture him. “Get it good and wet, Sanji-chan…” He hears the words echo back that memory of Esdeth for just long enough to merge the two into one burning desire to obey that command. It isn’t Zoro that spawns the automated reaction- that unthinking acquiescence- but the ghost of a beautiful brutal woman who once did the same. He doesn’t trust himself to speak, his hands twisting behind his back of their own accord, that muscle memory snaps to as his head snaps back down, to do exactly as he’s told. He hears the soft “fuck” pass from Zoro’s lips as he feels a second hand, feel them both guiding his head down quickly but still carefully controlled. He opens his mouth a little, just enough so that once more teeth scrape lightly down sensitive flesh as Zoro fucks his mouth hard but steady, a steady thrust back, forth, far more evenly than the tight grip in his hair would indicate.
   The memory fades, that last lingering ghost of black rubber over his tongue yielding to the very real organic flesh, flesh that pulses, that quivers, that slicks over with his own saliva and feeds back to his mouth Zoro’s essence with every slippery suck. He can feel it as it spills from his mouth, his heavy breathing, heat, everything making his mouth wetter, Zoro’s cock wearing that wet mantle with invitation. And the invitation comes when those hands loosen and he sees Zoro sit up slowly making some vague gesture with his hands. Sanji sees him panting, can imagine the lick of lips considering and Zoro’s guttural gasp of “on your knees” comes right at the same time as Usopp makes some half strangled garble of protest and Chopper ask- hoofs over his eyes- if they’re done. Sanji nearly answers with a sarcastic observation that he already is on his knees but he lets go of his wrists behind his back, massaging them lightly, watching Zoro crawl behind him.
   “What are they doing now?” Chopper again. Sanji grits his teeth wishing he had a cigarette to bite down on looking up to his hammock and the precious tobacco he knows is up there waiting. He can see Usopp’s outline not quite turned away looking suspiciously their way once more and really if he’s going to lay there so awkwardly the least he could do is make himself useful.
“Hey Usopp can you pass me a-”
“I do not want any part of this!”
“Look I just need a damn-”
“I have… I have a jar in my bag that you could use for-” Sanji hears Chopper and with a weird sense of horror at the stammered attempt at being helpful and he does not want him to finish that sentence under any circumstance.
   “I just want a shitty cigarette you idiots!” is screamed causing Chopper to fall unceremoniously out of his hammock with another loud thud, Usopp obeying the command with a scramble. Sanji can feel nerves converging on excitement, the two warring as he looks to Luffy and registers the deep breathing that hasn’t abated and nearly faints with relief when he sees the bright white sail through the air towards him while Chopper half sneaks back to his hammock. Until of course his face meets the carpet, Zoro’s hand on the back of his neck like an animal driving his head forward and down. He catches himself on his hands with a curse, still being held, ass in the air. “Sonofa-”
   “You’re not gonna smoke that damn thing while I’m fucking you.” Zoro leans forward growling the command in his ear. Sanji takes a deep breath feeling his leg twitch with the urge to take his back to a good sweaty fight but feels he strong grip at the nape of his neck send a shiver that only makes his legs reposition and spread further apart. Shit. One point to the mosshead.
“Don’t say it so straightforward like that!” Usopp hangs between both hammocks like a sloth, fingers curled tightly to keep from falling.
   “It’s not like we’re playing cards over here!” Zoro’s grip tightens on him. Sanji feels almost boneless at the hard tug to his scalp and he feels a tremble in his shoulders as he sucks in a breath. He sees the cigarette rolling with the gentle sway of the ship a few more inches away on the light pile of the rug. He shifts, reaching a hand out to it the hell with that shitty swordsman and his…
Sanji feels a hand on his hip that almost tickles. It would tickle if it weren’t so hard and he feels a trail down his spine, over the curve of his ass until he moves away. He can’t turn his head, his peripheral vision seeing nothing but darkness and shadows. Until he feels slick wet, feels what he only can guess is two fingers too quick to tease slide in, out, Zoro swearing softly under his breath. It hurts- a little. Not too much but enough to make him want more.
“I’ve done this before, mosshead,” he half whispers knowing it’s still loud enough for Chopper’s ears and still sounds painfully loud in the dark quiet of the cabin. I’ve done this before and God your dick is more alive than- He swallows down that hateful excitement. “Just hurry it up or I’ll-”
   “You’ve done this before?!” he isn’t sure who exclaims it, that hand previously stopped from the cigarette coming instead to his lips in a shushing motion. With women! Whatever you’re thinking it is completely wrong I don’t like men I... He watches Usopp clamp his free hand over his mouth eyes darting nervously to Luffy. The hell with it.
“Just do it already.” Sanji nearly turns his head to bite at the hand still holding him down by the neck when he feels wet, feels the moisture hit the crack of his ass, warm, sliding down, rubbed around the rim of his sensitive hole and his lips part a gasp to tell Zoro he better have more consideration than to spit on him like some unwashed male prostitute when he feels wetness being pushed in, rubbed, followed by the head of Zoro’s cock. Shit, I take it back do that again. Sanji’s hands curl to fists, one in from of his face, the other awkwardly wrenched behind his head and his nails scratch pulling at the rug hard as Zoro goes slow, slow, like the slow slow beam too slow, thirty seconds to seeming oblivion. Sanji swears “shit shit shit” as that bulbous cockhead opens him wide, his body pushing back, friction ache, everything reminding him it’s been too long and he shouldn’t be rushing- it’s been too long and he needs Zoro to just go faster and faster until he catches fire like flambé.
   “Fuck… Zoro…” the syllables of the name fall easier than any other ting he can think of coming with just the consonant sounds “zzz” and “rrr” that somehow seems a communication only between the two of them. “zzrrzzrr” is “hurry now, God, please” in some ancient indigenous language of fucking he’s sure of it as sure as Zoro lets go of his hair, grabs both hips, dick still slick enough to slide in deep, and practically throws Sanji’s body backwards. It forces the breath out of him, Zoro’s strength dwarfing that of anyone else he’s been with. He thinks his knees leave the ground for a spit second, his hands half scrabble for purchase on the floor as that thrust forces the breath out of him making him scream out one loud elongated “haaaah.”
   It’s loud. Louder than any noise that anyone’s made tonight. He’s aware of that fact in some dim corner of his mind that makes him bring the back of his hand to his mouth and bite down hard on the soft skin, the cry tamped down to a softer throaty series of hitches. He hears Zoro dimly ask if he’s okay in a low voice near his ear, his head bobs wildly yes, yes God, now would Zoro move already and wipe the smirk that Sanji can feel forming when he lifts his head back up off his stupid face. Dammit another fucking point to him shit double damn! Smug, stupid, shitty, swordsman just lets him wriggle, lets him pant around that hand, clench, let go, and hiss under his breath to fucking move already because he’s so close to tasting that brutal hard fucking that violent lurch promised.
   “That’s what the lapahns sound like...” Chopper whispers to Usopp uncovering his eyes as Sanji looks down and away his face red.
“Sh-shuttup…” He growls at them.
“It was more like a cat,” Usopp argues back.
“No the lapahns mate just like that too.” Chopper points. “But the head isn’t down far enough. I think the male moves more.”
“But he bit his neck.” Usopp held the back of his own neck. “Right here like this. Like a cat.”
“My dick doesn’t have spikes on it,” Zoro grumbles leaving Sanji to wish everyone would just go back to being embarrassed; he ducks his head about to tell them he isn’t a giant rabbit or cat or any other stupid animal. Zoro offers a guess of a “curly brow weasel” that makes him hiss- just like the animal in question- as he resolves to murder every last one of them when this is over. That resolve lasts as long as it takes the loud bang to nearly startle him into another noise, head whipping to the sound, eyes wide as he sees exactly the cause. Game, set, shit!
   The room is awash in light all of a sudden as the emergency door separating the men’s from the women’s cabins opens up, Nami looking at everyone in succession until her eyes finally settle on Zoro and Sanji on the floor in front of her. She grins honey sweet, a look that fools no one as she practically purrs.
“I think Usopp is right, Sanji-kun. It definitely sounded more like a cat.”
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Like A Rolling Stone