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It's Probably Nothing...	By : Synvamp Category: +M to R > One Piece Views: 5524 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece nor any of the characters in this story and I do not make any money from this story or any associated products

Chapter List
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The galley door closed and the disappointed steps of a hungry Captain echoed away down the hall.

Zoro listened intently to the fading footfalls; as soon as they were gone he turned the bolt on the door. Sanji watched him, waiting for the swordsman to act. He had been stretching, waiting for Zoro to come so he was ready for a fight. The bolt on the door had piqued his interest. Zoro had never done that before. The swordsman took two short steps and was suddenly in front of him, his polished movements so fast that even the cook struggled to see. Sanji turned expecting a strike but as he raised his knee to defend, he realised the move was all wrong; instead of a sword, one wide brown hand wrapped around the cook’s waist.

In a flash, it all made sense.

Sanji was tempted to extend his flexible leg and remind Zoro of the niceties of polite society but something stopped him. Instead, he turned quickly, simply stepping to the side and twisting out of the swordsman’s grasp.

“Awful grabby tonight, aren’t we?” the cook muttered, putting down his dishcloth and checking that none of his bowls of ingredients were too close to the edge of the bench.

He leaned against the counter and took the cigarette from between his lips, butting it out in an ashtray at his elbow. Looking up from his elegant fingers, he noted that Zoro hadn’t moved. The swordsman was still standing completely still with an expression that flickered between aggression and lust – maybe it was both – Sanji was not yet convinced that Zoro could tell the difference.

His dark eyes searched the cook, exploring his body and fixing him with a piercing stare. Now that was a look that he could recognise – hunger. Zoro was hungry. He had stalked the ship like a pent up tiger all day and Sanji had known something would happen. This was not what he had expected, but Zoro’s sex drive was as unpredictable as everything else about him.

The swordsman stepped forward and put his hand back around Sanji’s waist as if challenging him to move away a second time. The cook allowed himself to be touched. In a weird way he enjoyed the awkward fierceness of Zoro’s attention. It was another thing to fight about, another thing to smile about on long nights, one more secret, one more affinity that they shared.

They had grown together in their time in the Straw Hat Pirates. From uncertain beginnings they had learnt to trust each other, they had become more than nakama. Sanji had never expected… this… but it had happened so simply that he had not had time to question it.

Zoro’s touch was surprisingly soft. Firm but gentle. He leaned closer, running his thumb along Sanji’s stubbled jaw and brushing the fine strands of blond from his eyes. He gazed into the calm blue pools of Sanji’s eyes and searched his face for signs of protest. Sanji moved forward ever so slightly, and their hips brushed together. The corner of Zoro’s lips curled up and he leaned over, kissing the cook softly at first. A few gentle kisses and then his arm around Sanji’s waist tightened, drawing them together into a close embrace. The kiss deepened and Sanji leaned into the swordsman’s body, feeling the heat, the contours of his body. One calloused hand slipped under the cook’s shirt and stroked up his back. The soft touch on his bare skin made Sanji melt, he caught a soft moan before it escaped and pulled away, his lips hovering halfway between lust and propriety.

“We shouldn’t do this here,” the cook said quietly.

“You want to go to the bunk room?”

“No, what if Nami-swan were to hear…” Sanji hesitated, overwhelmed by horrific thoughts.

“Store room?”

“I think Usopp is there…” Not exactly an eager audience.

“Kitchen it is,” Zoro grinned, pushing the cook backwards.

Sanji gave some token resistance in the form of a few delicate snap-kicks that simply fuelled the fire in Zoro’s eyes. His mind told him this was a stupid idea but his body was raging with lust and hormones. Stupid Marimo always had this effect, ever since that first night when he had come up to the crow’s nest on Sanji’s watch… the thought of his body was Sanji’s secret guilt. It was solid and sexy and the way it moved… it was just bliss. It was his wet dreams, his daydreams and his constant distraction. He shouldn’t give in. He should walk away.

His body rebelled, filling his dirty mind with memories of Zoro’s fingers on him… in him… searching his body… just this once. He had to have it one more time.

Sanji let himself get backed up against the table; Zoro noticed his movements change and smirked,

“I knew you wanted it, love-cook.”

I can always kick his ass later.

“Shut up or you’ll spoil the moment,” Sanji grumbled, as he perched on the edge of the table. Zoro stood between his legs and let his presence be felt.

Sanji ‘humph’-ed in appreciation and wrapped his legs around Zoro’s waist pulling him in. He was so lost in the kiss and the warmth radiating from his belly that he barely noticed Zoro removing his suit coat and shirt. It was only when the swordsman’s hands fluttered over his groin that the spell was broken.

“Hey!” Sanji murmured in protest.

“What?” Zoro asked, blowing the strands of gold from his face.

“Clothes, moss head. Off.”

Zoro laughed and shook his head, “Then let go, baka,” he said, wiggling in the grip of Sanji’s legs and making the cook moan.

“Ok, ok,” Sanji said, reluctantly releasing Zoro from his vice like hold.

The swordsman stepped back and looked Sanji up and down, broad shoulders, cream skin and every detail perfectly formed… his dark eyes smouldered with lust. He held the edge of his white t-shirt with both hands and peeled it off slowly, being sure to ripple every muscle in his sculpted body while he did it. He knew exactly what this did to the cook (hot sweats, increased pulse and extreme hard-on) and he was not ashamed to use his power for evil. He kicked off his boots and dropped his swords on the pile of clothing then advanced on Sanji again,

“Move back,” he said as he came closer. He put his hands between Sanji’s legs and pulled himself up onto the table. As Sanji leaned back, he moved forward kissing the cook’s lips, his throat, his chest. His hands stroked up the cook’s sides and laid him down gently. With Sanji’ legs parted, he could settle between them, grinding his weight down into the solid erection that pressed into his stomach. Sanji growled in pleasure and Zoro’s kisses became more heated as he heard the lustful rumblings of his guilty pleasure. Touching Sanji always made him wild, once he started, he couldn’t stop.

His lips skipped over a delicate pink nipple and he flicked it gently with his tongue. He could taste the salt on the cook’s skin and Sanji’s pheromones tainted the air with the smell of sex. He wanted to bite down and pin Sanji to the table, tear his clothes off and bend his flexible legs back, taking him hard in that sweet tightness… as he kissed Sanji’s stomach he gripped that perfect ass with both hands, lifting him up, trying to taste him all at once.

Sanji’s head fell back as Zoro looked up; he was all messy blond hair and pale lines of muscle. He felt so good, hard sinuous legs wrapping around Zoro and pulling him in. Sanji wanted him inside, he growled and struggled and pulled Zoro closer. The swordsman loved it when he got this wild. Zoro pulled away so he could get his hands to the buttons of Sanji’s trousers, the cook realised what he was doing and lifted his hips and for a moment they separated to throw the garments aside. Finally Zoro undid his own pants and kicked them off, returning to fill the gap between his lustful cook’s long legs.

The feeling of hot skin on skin was divine as his cock brushed up the inside of Sanji’s thighs and settled in the damp ridge between them. He pressed Sanji with his body as he lowered his weight, tilting the blonde’s chin with one hand to kiss him. He gazed into wide blue eyes and felt the cook’s nails rake down his back and settle on his ass, pulling him closer, bucking against him. He untangled his hand from the cook’s hair, plunging it between them and wrapping his fingers around Sanji’s slick cock.

He stroked in time to his movements, sliding up and down over the cook’s hungry body. He let every inch of their skin meet and his whole body pulsed with need, every nerve sang with the contact and Sanji’s huffs and gasps made him moan in reply. His cock sank into the moist between Sanji’s legs and as they brushed together, the cook arched his back, opening up like a flower.

Zoro couldn’t bear it any longer, he wanted to touch Sanji, to taste him and kiss his entire body but he needed the cook beneath him…

“Turn… turn over…” He breathed into Sanji’s ear.

The cook sat up and brushed aside a few strands of gold. His lips were red and his eyes were shining, he parted moist lips and smiled, turning his hips and climbing off the table. The blond stood with his hands on the wood, leaning slightly forwards and facing away from the swordsman. He could just see the cook’s swollen cock to one side, pressed against the table. The swordsman took a moment to commit the scene to memory – perfect slender waist and long, long legs, arched hips aching towards him… he stepped forward and ran his hands down Sanji’s back, feeling the ripples of strong muscle. He stroked lower, over the hard contours of Sanji’s ass and watched in lustful fascination as he drew the perfect mounds apart revealing a dark pink spot, wet with anticipation.

He ran his fingers down and brushed the soft ripples at the heart of Sanji’s need. His fingers pushed gently at first, and then harder and he felt the soft muscle give as they slipped inside. He could feel Sanji’s every contour and pressed deeper, touching the places that made the cook cry out. His soft moans got louder and louder and Zoro stretched his fingers wide, slowing pulling them from the panting blond. He held that gorgeous ass in one hand and lined his cock up with the slick hole. At first he met resistance, a hot ring of tight muscle; he held under Sanji’s arms and pulled their bodies together. A wave of heat rolled up him as he pressed deep, feeling coils of muscle part to accept him.

He came to a rest, fully inside the cook - the only man who had ever taken him - and Sanji’s muscles pulled tight around him. Moaning he rolled his hips back, holding Sanji’s ass and watching his cock plunge back into the cook’s heaven. As he sunk in again he could feel the knot of muscle deep inside that made Sanji quiver. He wanted to make the cook beg, he wanted to make him scream and come and howl… he shoved the cook’s hips away and hissed at the feeling of tight muscles pulling against him, Sanji bucked and rocked backwards and they came together again, gasping at the rush as they moved in unison.

He pushed Sanji into the table, using the cook’s rocking to get deeper inside him. As they worked and sweated, Sanji got looser and Zoro could move further and further, thrusting with long strokes that made his toes curl.

Their bodies came together and Sanji’s muscles began to quiver; the cook rocked faster and groaned, spreading his legs further apart. Zoro sped up and pulled the cook back, thrusting deeper, he felt the muscles tighten, clamping down on the whole length of his sensitive, throbbing cock. He gripped Sanji’s hips harder, and thrust again as hot liquid splashed his hand and the cook gasped, crying out as his name.

Zoro thrust again and dragged hard against the rippling muscles pulling tight. He held the cook’s trembling back and hit the cook again and again as he bucked and heaved. All he could feel was the rush, hot and heaving, he could hear the cook shout and he drove deep, feeling the table buckle beneath him. They fell to the floor and Sanji squeezed him tight, in a blinding wave he lunged forward and roared as the building pleasure erupted. He spilled in waves into Sanji’s sweet milky flesh, taking the slick pink opening and riding it as hard as he could. He felt Sanji quiver and surge in his hand, coming again as Zoro’s last giddy heaves drove home.

Finally, the swordsman collapsed, letting his sweat slicked body down to lie next to the softly humming cook,

“mmmmm…”

“Good?” Zoro asked between breaths, a smug smile indicating that he already knew the answer.

Sanji turned his head to face the swordsman and smiled,

“Pretty good for an entrée, Marimo,”

Zoro scoffed at him and then grinned menacingly, “I can go again you know,” his calloused fingers already massaging Sanji’s very red bottom.

“Get off me!” the blond said, shooing the randy swordsman off him, “You’ve already destroyed enough furniture for one day!”

Zoro reluctantly got to his feet and fetched his clothes, then put out one hand and dragged Sanji to his feet.

“You sure?” the swordsman asked, as they stood naked side by side, he pulled the cook close and kissed him, just slightly too softly to be sexual.

Sanji huffed and turned away, masking his confused expression.

“I’m sure, ok.”

Zoro shrugged and pulled his clothes on, he put one hand on the door and drew the bolt back to leave, then turned back, “What are you going to tell Franky?” he asked, indicating the broken table. It had been made from reinforced timber that was six inches thick, after they had broken the last one in a similar fashion.

“I’ll think of something…” Sanji pushed Zoro out of the kitchen and closed the door.

The cook paused on the other side of the galley door, leant his back on the cool timber and laughed. His kitchen was a mess with half cooked dinner on the bench - and the table was sprawled on the floor and covered in… well, Zeff would not have approved. And Zoro… what the hell was going on there? Sanji had expected to be bored of him by now but his weird brand of affection was growing on him. It was either that or he was just thinking with his dick, it had been known to happen once or twice.

Sanji shook his head to clear the contemplations. He lit an after-extremely-satisfying-sex smoke and tried to remember what stage of the duck a l’orange he was up to.

As he began to fuss once more, shuffling pots and pans, he started to whistle a tune. It was two minutes before he realised he was whistling and another five before he noticed he was still grinning like an idiot.

Stupid Zoro. It wasn’t like he could find anyone else who would put up with him anyway!

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