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Chapter Text

Sanji let out a weary sigh as he stood in front of a familiar yet dreaded door.

Beyond it lay the family dining room, not that the people occupying the room were much of a family, and certainly not Sanji’s. The only true family he had was lost when his mother died and when his old geezer was banished and/or killed by Judge. He was never sure which it was, all he knew was, like Sora, Zeff was gone. Sanji was left on his own. Well, almost on his own. Reiju showed glimmers of decency, playing a semi-competent role of big sister from time-to-time, but it was the recent addition to the Vinsmoke household that really made the difference.

Fingers brushed against his back beneath his red cloak. The warmth of the hand seeped past his gold vest and white silk shirt, into his skin and drew a small shiver from him. He glanced behind him at Zoro, his guard a now familiar shadow and comfort after months of being in his company.

It was only six months prior that King Vinsmoke Judge had hired guards to accompany his children everywhere, apparently due to suspicious threats and fears of assassination attempts. Germa was in a precarious position after Judge’s genius plan of allying with the Big Mom Pirates fell through. It had resulted in Germa being ousted as a member nation by the World Government.

Sanji could honestly say he was surprised that his father bothered with procuring a guard for him. It was only a few years ago that he had seen fit to throw him into the dungeon with an iron mask on his face and pretend he was dead. He only “revived” him when he needed him for political gain. His plans fell through since Sanji couldn’t marry Charlotte Pudding like his father wanted but it also meant Sanji couldn’t just go back to the dungeon with all of Germa knowing that he was still alive. He had already been reintroduced to the public, it would be suspicious for him to disappear again. With recent events, his father was desperate to save face with the people of Germa, all of whom were none too pleased with suddenly losing the protection of the World Government and becoming enemies of an Emperor of the Sea on top of that. Sanji supposed discovering their leader was also so callous as to lock one of his children away in a dungeon with an iron mask on their face would send the message that the king didn’t care about the people. Afterall, look at how he treated his own child. That would lead to greater civil unrest and cause the looming threat of an internal war to become even stronger. At least, that had been Reiju’s reasoning. Sanji wasn’t so sure. Why would the people care that much about what had happened to him? But his sister was more politically minded than him, so he didn’t question it.

He was still treated as less than. His room was smaller than his siblings’ and closer to the servants’ quarters than it was the family wing. Not that Sanji minded that, it meant he could sneak to the kitchens a lot easier than he would’ve been able to if he was closer to the rest of his family. He wasn’t allowed to leave the castle as much as his brothers were, which wasn’t a hardship for him. He wasn’t permitted guests or allowed to pursue his interests, not that he was deterred by receiving permission or not. By and large, his life had improved drastically being out of the dungeons. He still had to endure his brothers and their cruelty, but less so now that they couldn’t hide within the deep darkness of the dungeons. Now, they veiled their beatings as “training” and mutual combat. It still left Sanji bruised and bloody but at least he could limp away to his room with his soft bed and books he could read. Best of all, there was a kitchen he could access and cook in until he didn’t feel as wretched unlike the dungeon.

Life drummed along at a sedate pace until one day their father called them to his room and introduced them to their guards. Sanji had been dubious at best, a former pirate hunter from the East Blue, half-blind and nearly cleaved in two if his chest was anything to go by, carrying three swords, one of which must’ve been ornamental. He figured either his guard had no way of protecting him (why would his father want to protect him in the first place) or he was secretly there to kill Sanji. That way, his father wouldn’t be implicated and this time, Sanji would truly be dead. The failure finally removed once and for all, good riddance.

He hadn’t been exactly welcoming to Zoro. The two butt heads and called each other names, Zoro not caring that Sanji was a prince. Zoro never talked down to him in front of others, only in the privacy of Sanji’s chambers, but it still grated on his nerves.

By virtue of Zoro always being around, eventually he saw more than Sanji would’ve liked, especially between him and his brothers. Zoro’s response was not what he expected. He didn’t imagine the man would be furious on Sanji’s behalf, enough to want to go and fight his brothers, pay them back for every wound they inflicted on the third prince. He didn’t expect him to gently nurse and wrap his wounds, showing more tenderness than even Reiju did whenever she patched him up. He didn’t expect him to care.

After that, things changed between them. They still argued but there was an undeniable undercurrent of affection and Sanji was not surprised when the man kissed him one day, only shocked at the gentleness of it. Six months later, Zoro’s tenderness towards him was still a little mystifying, but it was sorely needed on days like this.

“It’s only an hour, two at the most, Curly.”

“That’s more than enough. You sure you can’t use one of those swords on me, put me out of commission for a while?”

“And miss seeing that pretty face every day? I don’t think so.”

Sanji felt a blush color his cheeks. Zoro said things like that from time to time, especially on days like this. Sanji didn’t understand how the directionless, sweaty, idiot swordsman could be so sweet at times.

“Besides, who would I spar with if I killed you, Cook? I like our fights. Germa’s weird, emotionless soldiers do fuck all for me. Plus, they creep me out.”

Sanji rolled his eyes at that. That sounded more like the Zoro he knew. Zoro’s hand splayed out across his back, the fingers digging in just a little deeper. He could feel the heat of Zoro’s body, telling him the man had stepped closer to him even if there was still space between their bodies. A shiver went down his spine as he felt Zoro’s hot breath brush against his ear.

“Just a couple of hours, Cook. You survive this dinner and then we can go back to your room and I’ll have you all to myself. I’ll make you forget whatever bullshit they put in your head this time.”

Sanji bit his lip, his mind flashing to all the ways Zoro made him forget, to how Zoro always effortlessly put him back together after dinners with his family tore him apart. He wished he could just have Zoro without having to deal with his family first, but if it was something he had to endure in order to get the prize of being in his arms, then he would endure every insult and degrading word his family had to offer.

Footsteps began echoing down the hall, coming towards them. Sanji recognized them immediately.

“Hands off, Mosshead,” he ordered.

Zoro’s fingers lingered a moment more before he took a step back, the distance between them now more appropriate even if it did make Sanji feel bereft. Reiju turned the corner then, her bodyguard walking behind her.

“Brother, what a surprise for you to beat me here.”

“I wanted to escort you inside, dear sister.”

“Oh Sanji, always such a gentleman.”

Sanji blinked at the unexpected compliment and felt his insides warm just a little.

“It’s a wonder Pudding didn’t want you.”

A stab shot through his chest at the careless words.

And so it begins.

Reiju likely wasn’t trying to inflict harm with her words. She didn’t even think about them before she said them and likely saw nothing wrong with them as they were the raw truth. They still hurt, even if Sanji didn’t love Pudding. Reiju hadn’t been trying to hurt him, but his father and brothers definitely would be. Sanji glanced over to Zoro briefly. His face was blank, but he could make out the way his shoulders were just that bit tighter. The swordsman briefly met his gaze. His eyes flashed with reassurance before they went back to their usual blankness.

Sanji steeled himself. A couple hours. Then he would have Zoro all to himself and he could forget this dinner ever happened.

He wordlessly held his elbow out to Reiju, who rested her hand in the crook of it and walked forward gracefully as Zoro and her guard opened the doors for them. Ichiji, Niji and Yonji were already there as they walked inside, their guards posted along the walls and largely ignoring the trio. Niji and Yonji were cackling about something, probably something stupid, while Ichiji watched on with an expressionless look on his face.

“Brothers,” Reiju greeted in a monotone voice. Sanji didn’t bother saying anything. He pulled out Reiju’s chair for her, drawing an absent smile, before taking his seat by her side across from their brothers.

Niji and Yonji didn’t acknowledge their presence, but Ichiji’s head turned to them slightly. Sanji couldn’t tell what his eyes might’ve been doing because of the glasses he always wore but there was no change in his face as he began speaking.

“Sister, Failure,” he said, using the word as if it were Sanji’s name. He was no longer shocked or surprised by this.

“I see you two managed to arrive before Father. That is a feat in and of itself.”

“Yeah, figured you’d be busy putting on your make-up, Reiju,” Yonji commented, snorting obnoxiously.

“Some of us choose to spend a little time on their appearance every once in a while,” she replied.

“That time you spend on yourself will be better served on Father. It is no excuse to be late,” Ichiji responded.

“A lady is never late. She arrives when she needs to,” Sanji declared, unable to stop himself from speaking up in a woman’s defense, even if his sister was perfectly capable of contending with the mannerless curs they called brothers.

Reiju gave him an impassive smile at that.

“See? You boys could stand to be as sensitive to a woman’s quirks as Sanji is.”

Despite himself, he felt another surge of warmth at the compliment. God, he was depressingly easy.

“The failure’s half a woman himself,” Niji snorted derisively.

A flash of fear, shame and embarrassment overtook the warmth Reiju’s comment had engendered in him. Niji didn’t know about him and Zoro, he was certain no one did. Sometimes, he thought Reiju suspected but if she did, she never spoke to him about it. The North Blue was notoriously more prejudiced against queer people than any other Blue. The East Blue and the West Blue were by far the most liberal seas with marriage between same-sex couples having been legal in most islands of the West Blue for years now and with a strong movement for its legalization across islands of the East Blue still ongoing. The South was a little more stringent. It wasn’t strictly illegal, but it was still seen as a moral ill with heavy regulations put in place regarding cohabitation, adoption, civil unions, etc.

The Grand Line had a much less unified stance, with each island having a different culture surrounding queer people. The North Blue, however, was the most restrictive of all the Blues.

Queer people were more likely to be killed, branded, harassed and shamed in the North and Germa was perhaps the worst of it. Germa outright banned homosexuality and had laws on the books detailing punishments including jail time, public flogging or whippings and worse. People made sport of branding queer people, knowing they would be hunted and killed if they bore a mark that told the country of their sexuality. The perpetrators were rarely ever punished. Niji in particular had joined in on a few of those hunts.

Sanji was already persecuted for being the disgraced third prince, he could only imagine how much worse it would be if his family knew about his sexuality. It wouldn’t matter that he liked women as well as men, he likely wouldn’t survive it if the revelation of his bisexuality came to light. It would hardly be treated with a snippy barb at the dinner table, especially from Niji.

He used that knowledge to calm his rabbiting heart. Niji was just being his usual cruel self, nothing more.

“Be that as it may, you would all do well to get more in touch with your feminine side. It just might make you the least bit considerate,” Reiju returned, her voice still flat as she delicately took a napkin and spread it across her lap to protect her dress from any spillage, not that there would be. His sister did everything with intention and precision, she’d never be so careless as to let a crumb stain her dress.

“We don’t need to consider anything beyond what Father deems necessary for us to consider,” Ichiji returned.

Reiju and Sanji shared a look from the corner of their eyes and even Niji and Yonji looked exasperated by Ichiji’s stoic yet overzealous dedication to their Father’s agenda.

Of course, Ichiji was programmed to feel that way, so it wasn’t like he had much choice. The thought did make Sanji feel… something. Pity, maybe? Remorse? Guilt? Reiju had told him what Sora did in an attempt to save the quadruplets. Why did it only work on Sanji? What made him so special? Surely, if it was going to work on any of them, it should’ve been Ichiji, the eldest of the four, but he seemed to have the least emotion out of all the brothers. Niji and Yonji weren’t winning any awards in empathy, but they seemed to feel something, even if it only was triggered by violence and cruelty, but Ichiji was never roused by anything. Should Sanji have done more to try and save his brothers? Try to change them? But what could he have logically done? He couldn’t even save himself. Still, maybe there had been some way he could’ve helped them. So yes, pity, remorse, guilt. He felt all those things surface every now and again whenever he looked at them. He hated it because he also felt fear, disgust, hatred and anger for all they had done to him. It was a lot to reconcile.

“Of course, given that Sanji is utterly useless, I suppose it doesn’t matter what he does and does not consider. It will do little to change his worth,” Ichiji continued.

Sanji pursed his lip at the dig as Niji and Yonji started cackling like hyenas.

“True. Hey, you remember when he actually thought he could beat us in a sparring match,” Niji recalled.

“Which time,” Yonji prodded.

“You know, that time when we put him in the infirmary for two weeks. I think we broke half the bones in his body.”

Both Niji and Yonji started laughing again.

“Served him right, challenging us like that. If he wasn’t so weak, he would’ve been able to fight us.”

Sanji’s hand tightened into a fist then, anger and grief clutching his heart. He didn’t much care about his brothers’ words, not really. It was nothing new to him. In the beginning, he had been concerned that all their insults and degradation and indictments towards his existence would make a difference in how Zoro felt about him. However, he had learned not to doubt his swordsman’s conviction.

“Do I look like I’m going to take the word of a trio of bumbling idiots who wouldn’t survive outside of their Daddy’s walls for more than a day? What do you take me for, Cook?” Zoro had said, offended when Sanji had admitted as much to him.

He never brought it up again even though he still felt that way from time to time.

But no, his reaction was more born of what that incident had cost him. In a burst of bravado, Sanji had wanted to prove himself. He was able to beat all of Germa’s foot soldiers with no issue by the time he was 6 years old. He was by no means weak, he was just weaker than his siblings. However, when he was 8 years old, Germa’s former head chef had started teaching Sanji how to fight as well as how to cook. Through the old geezer’s tutelage, he discovered that he was much better at fighting with his legs than he was with his hands or weapons, like his brothers were. He had trained as hard as he could with this new form of fighting as well as in the kitchen, determined to beat his brothers and give his mother a dish she wouldn’t have to lie about enjoying.

When he challenged Niji, wanting to finally rub the smirk off his cruelest brother’s face, it had been a disaster. The blonde boy held out longer than usual, but Niji still beat him in two minutes flat. Then he and Yonji proceeded to beat him senseless while Ichiji stood nearby, watching the scene with a blank expression. The brothers only stopped when Reiju came along and made them. Sanji had been in a coma for two weeks. By the time he woke up, his mother was dead. He didn’t get to make that dish for her or even attend her funeral, he had missed it because he was unconscious. He never forgave himself or his brothers for that.

Sanji was spared from having to dignify any of that with a response by their father’s arrival along with one of his scientists. All five children stood up as the doors opened, the action automatic in deference of the king, and only sat down again once their father did at the head of the table, not bothering to greet any of his children as he continued his conversation with the man in the lab coat. Sanji didn’t bother learning his name, he hated every single one of them. They had helped to make his life a living hell, he didn’t give them the dignity of names.

All of the younger Vinsmokes stayed silent as the conversation went along, knowing better than to speak before their father addressed them. Sanji was set to tune the conversation out all together but his name (or at least his father’s approximation of it) caught his attention.

“And you’re certain this will make the failure of use?”

“Quite certain, your majesty. I doubt he will be as strong as his brothers, but I’m sure it will reverse some of the effects of the late Queen’s poison.”

“I’ve heard these platitudes before. I shall believe it when I see it. Even so, whether the runt finally lives up to his name in battle or not, he will still be useful for alliances all the same. Nevertheless, get your equipment ready and you can test your work on the morrow.”

Sanji felt himself stiffen in his seat at the implications.

More tests on him, more serums, more attempts to “fix” him. He was loathe to intimate that there were any benefits from being locked in that dungeon, trapped in that mask, forgotten in the bowels of the castle. However, he had been forgotten. That meant that all attempts to try and make him like his brothers had ceased. He didn’t have to be subjected to the tortures of his father’s laboratory because the king no longer cared enough to try and correct his greatest failure.

Now that he was out, the experiments had resumed. Sanji didn’t want to admit that they might’ve been on to something, but sometimes when he left the cold sterile rooms, he felt a little… less. Less like himself, less like there was a reason to give a damn about anything, less passionate about the things he usually cared for, less full of fear and desperation and self-loathing (which he didn’t hate) but also less full of love and passion and kindness (which he did hate).

It frightened him. What would happen if his father succeeded? Would Sanji end up like his brothers? Would he still have his passion for cooking? Would he still dream of the All Blue? Would he still miss his mother and Zeff? Would he still love Zoro? Would there be anything left of him at all?

His hands clenched into fists as he thought more and more, his thoughts spiraling and folding on one another. He impulsively opened his mouth to say something before he felt a sharp scratch on his arm. He glanced over at Reiju who gave him a warning look, prompting him to snap his mouth shut. His father and the scientist continued talking the logistics of their experiment, heedless of Sanji’s near slip up. It caused his stomach to coil into knots of anxiety. He felt small beads of sweat forming on his forehead and his palms and his breaths came just a bit harsher. He wished he could turn around and look at Zoro. The stoic man likely had a face of stone, unchanging despite how much he equally hated the days Sanji had to go to the lab. He had tried to talk him out of it in the beginning, tried to convince him they could run away. Zoro had friends in the East Blue, he said. They could go there and start over, he said. Sanji couldn’t make himself believe it. He had shot Zoro down and told him that it’d probably be better if he left, that Sanji wasn’t worth the hassle. The green-haired man had given him a flat look,

“Maybe those scientists fried your brain, but I already told you I’m not leaving you, so stop talking out of your ass, idiot cook. We go together or not at all.”

He didn’t get the Moss sometimes. He didn’t bathe enough, drank too much, trained too often, talking seemed to be like pulling teeth for him, most of Sanji’s subtle romantic gestures went right over his head, he was concerningly devoted to his swords and had the most ridiculous dream of beating Dracule Mihawk to become the World’s Greatest Swordsman. Yet, there were times when the man was oddly sweet, understanding, romantic even. Zoro turned devotion into an artform and for some reason, he had decided to turn that stringent sense of loyalty onto Sanji. He didn’t know what he did to deserve it (even though Zoro had waxed poetic to him about all the reasons why during several hot and steamy nights locked away in Sanji’s quarters), but he thanked every god and every ounce of luck that existed that he and Zoro had found each other.

Sanji felt his body relaxing slowly as thoughts of Zoro invaded his mind, shutting out the nightmarish images of all the crap that had been done to him in that lab.

The first time Zoro had dropped his mask of cordiality and insulted him.

Every time he and Zoro had sparred, Sanji using his unique kick-based fighting against Zoro’s blades and finding that the two were evenly matched.

Midnight picnics they had gone on together in Sora’s garden, Sanji cooking their favorites and nicking booze from the kitchen before spiriting his Moss away on impromptu dates.

The first time Zoro kissed him, a heated thing at first at the tail-end of a brutal sparring match. They had still been fighting each other, only with lips, but then Zoro slowed it down, made his touches softer, engulfed Sanji slowly in a wave of desire-soaked affection. The blonde had just about melted into the ground.

The first time Zoro made love to him. The amount of care he had put into making sure Sanji’s body was ready, the way he had been only concerned with bringing Sanji to the peaks of pleasure, his own climax an afterthought, the way every word he said dripped with praise and affection and devotion and love, so different from their insult-laden spars.

Sanji had the promise of experiencing that again tonight. He just had to get through this dinner and then he could fall apart into anxiety and panic and once Zoro talked him down from that, they would fall into bed together and all would be right with the world again.

He wasn’t sure how long it was before the scientist left, but it was long enough for Niji’s eyes to have glazed over in boredom and Yonji to be playing with the tablecloth. Ichiji still sat up ramrod straight, not willing to relax until their father said so while Reiju stared off into space, occasionally sipping on champagne while her other hand remained on Sanji’s arm, her sharp nails dancing up and down his skin. He was acutely aware of her ability to poison him right at that moment, yet he still felt no fear and actually welcomed the contact. It helped to keep him grounded in the moment, even as he continued to let his mind drift off to happier times with his lover.

Once the scientist was gone, Judge signaled to the servants lining the edges of the room to begin serving dinner. Sanji tuned back in then. He would never disrespect such a lovely lady like Cosette by not giving her food his undivided attention. Cosette kept Sanji’s frequent visits to the kitchen hush-hush in gratitude after he defended her from Niji. She still got beaten later but they had became friendly to one another and made an arrangement that worked. She wasn’t Zeff but it’d be unfair of Sanji to hold something like that against her.

He looked down at the plate, pleased to see that the beef wellington he had prepared this morning and left in the kitchen had made its way to the plate. He had cooked it for the staff’s lunch, but Cosette shared his and Zeff’s philosophy on wasting food so she frequently served any leftovers from Sanji’s cooking to the royal family, who were none the wiser.

Sanji was quite proud of his efforts. The puff pastry was flaky and showed beautiful lamination, his beef was perfectly seasoned and browned, the scoring on the pastry was complex and intricate, giving the meal a touch of elegance and he had paired it with a delicious red wine sauce. Zoro had done nothing but grunt and mumble a ‘s’good’ when Sanji served it to him earlier, though he knew that was Zoro-speak for he liked it.

He silently watched now with a sense of glee and accomplishment as his family ate the food he had prepared. It was clear to him that they seemed to be enjoying it. Reiju, who was the only one who ever ate his cooking with full knowledge of who had prepared it, gave him a knowing look. The three idiots went for seconds with Niji even commenting that at least Cosette had made something decent for dinner. It rankled him that he judged the beautiful woman, who was a very talented cook, but it also made him feel a surge of happiness that they liked his food. He could never tell them it was his, they’d beat him black and blue for stepping foot in a kitchen, but it didn’t make him feel any less proud of himself.

Then they had to open their mouths.

“So Father, is it true then? You’re finally going to make the failure suitable of being a prince of Germa,” Niji asked.

Judge didn’t look up from his plate.

“Don’t be ridiculous. He could never be suitable of bearing the title of prince, let alone the title of my son. He will never live up to the Vinsmoke name. I’ve simply found another way to make him useful, seeing as how he didn’t have the decency to follow through with the last plan,” he replied matter-of-factly.

“Who could blame the Emperor’s daughter though? Who the hell would want the failure, let alone for life,” Niji jeered.

“She would’ve saved us the trouble if she just took him and killed him when he wasn’t our problem anymore,” Yonji added, a vicious grin on his face.

“She would have. Even so, he can still be of some use, though his value will always be diminished by his constancy of failures. At least he can make his pathetic life worth something,” Judge stated flatly.

Ichiji hummed in agreement. Sanji’s hand tightened on his fork. He should be used to this, the way they talked about him like he wasn’t there, not even looking in his direction or acknowledging his presence. It was like he had never left that cell at all. He itched to make himself known, to force them to look at him, but Reiju’s fingers were still dancing along his arm and they dug in just a bit deeper as Sanji felt the need to speak. Sometimes, he wondered if his sister could read minds. Or perhaps he was just that easy to read.

“What shall you use him for, Father,” Reiju inquired, delicately spearing a carrot and popping it into her mouth.

“If the experiments go as planned, he should be nearly as durable as his brothers. The least he can do is clean up this mess he helped create with the Big Mom Pirates. He will do a few missions, off the books, on behalf of the World Government which will get us back in their good graces. Some light espionage, gathering rabbits for the Nobles’ Native Hunts, helping to raid some non-affiliated islands. Things of that sort.”

Sanji grit his teeth, hearing that Judge’s intention was to use him as a weapon and tool to wield against innocent people, force him to go against his morals, not that Judge cared about such things, much less Sanji’s.

“No.”

Sanji didn’t even realize he was the one that had spoken until he suddenly had four pairs of eyes on him.

Not Judge’s though, the king continued to explain as if Sanji hadn’t spoken at all.

“The scientists are calling this new drug of theirs Stealth Black, says it will give him significant modifications akin to your own…”

“No.”

“…Tougher skin, durability, accelerated healing and coupled with a raid suit, it will only make him more useful…”

“No.”

“I’m told the suit will even grant him a form of invisibility. That will make capturing participants for the hunt all the easier. Especially Fishmen, as that seems to be the hottest demand now that slavery has been abolished, officially at any rate. I will still have need of you boys for other missions but we will see if the failure can finally do something to give his worthless existence some purpose.”

Sanji felt a surge of anger and defiance hit him. He was ready to spring to his feet, to slam his hands on the table, to scream ‘no’ so his father would finally be forced to at least look at him. Before he could complete the action, the room suddenly went blurry. The shapes in front of him which had once been his brothers shifted into amorphous blobs of red, blue and green. The defiant ‘no’ that was building in his chest released from his lips as little more than a slurred whisper. His fisted hands went limp and he found himself sinking back into his chair, his body heavy.

What the hell, he thought to himself.

For a moment, he wondered if his food had been tampered with. Perhaps Judge wanted to send him to the lab tonight and had drugged him so he would be compliant. Then again, he never gave a damn if Sanji protested before. He would be dragged, kicking and screaming, if it became necessary. Judge was never subtle, he was sure to make Sanji’s humiliation as overt as possible. His brothers were the same and worse in some cases. The only person who exhibited even a bit of cunning was Reiju.

Reiju was sitting next to him.

Reiju was touching him.

Sanji’s eyes flickered down to where his sister’s fingers were still attached to his bare forearm. The veins there were discolored from her poison, a purplish unnatural hue that told Sanji all he needed to know. He felt a stab of betrayal at the action. So much for trusting her.

The rest of dinner passed in a drugged haze. He did his best to play off the poisoning he was enduring. He was certain whatever she had chosen wasn’t lethal, but that didn’t mean it was a pleasant feeling. He didn’t feel like his body was his own. He watched with an air of detachment as he slowly and robotically ate all the food on his plate, not even poison would make him waste food. His father and brothers’ voices were little more than garbled gibberish.

Time passed strangely and before he knew it, his father and brothers were leaving along with their guards. The room cleared until it was just Sanji, Zoro, Reiju and her guard. As soon as the rest of the royal family was gone, Sanji felt familiar hands grabbing his shoulder and chin. He glanced up at Zoro, his face a splash of shapes and colors. Sanji was sure he was probably scowling.

He said something in a snappish tone but Sanji couldn’t decipher it. He thought Reiju might’ve answered but Sanji’s head was swimming even more and he found himself leaning into Zoro and letting his eyes slip shut.

He briefly regained a bit of consciousness when he felt himself being lifted into strong arms, familiar arms, arms that had lifted him countless times. He let his head fall against Zoro’s shoulder and drifted off again.

He resurfaced again when he felt a soft bed against his back. Voices became slightly clearer to him.

“…no right to do this to him… trusts you… sick kind of shit…” Zoro was saying, his voice tense and full of anger and recrimination.

“… mild poison at best… wear off… let him draw attention… watch him until…” Reiju was responding.

Sanji couldn’t really make sense of it and he was too woozy to try. He finally let himself fall into black.

He didn’t wake again until hours later, or at least he figured it was hours. As he opened his eyes, the world swam for a moment before settling into focus. He had a low-level headache pounding against his temples, his mouth felt dry and his limbs ached a bit but at least he felt like himself again.

He pinched his lips as he replayed what Reiju had done and the snippets of her conversation with Zoro. He could understand her logic. If Sanji had made a scene, there was no telling what Judge’s reaction would be. Maybe he’d throw Sanji in the dungeon until morning, maybe he’d send him to the lab right away or maybe he’d just sic Ichiji, Niji and Yonji on him. Either way, it wouldn’t have boded well for Sanji. Still, he couldn’t help the betrayal he felt at her using her powers on him, stealing away his voice, his choice. Even if there had been dire consequences, at least it would’ve been the result of something Sanji had done, not just a consequence of his existence. And she couldn’t have chosen a worst time to do something like that to him, just as Judge was talking about discovering the key that would take away Sanji’s choice for the rest of his life, leave him as nothing more than a hollow shell, a tool for Germa’s malicious intent, a weapon for Judge’s aggrandizement. Sanji would essentially be dead.

He let out a shuddering breath at the thought. There had been many times he thought he would die, but every time the reality came around, he fought tooth and nail to survive, now what the hell was he meant to do?

“You awake there, Curls,” Zoro asked, breaking Sanji from his sullen thoughts.

The blonde turned his head a bit to see Zoro sitting on the bed at his side, staring down at him with barely concealed concern.

“Wh…?” Sanji broke off, going into a coughing fit courtesy of his dry throat. Zoro helped him sit up and brought a glass of water to his lips. Sanji gratefully took a few long sips before clearing his throat.

“What time is it?”

Zoro glanced at the clock on the wall.

“11:30. You’ve been out for 3 hours. That’s about how long your sister said it’d take for her poison to be absorbed into your system.”

Sanji’s lips pursed at that.

“That was a shitty thing she did to you, Cook.”

“Yeah, it was. She was probably trying to save me from myself though.”

“That’s what she said, I don’t give a fuck. I wish I could kill every single one of them. I’d take their heads in a second. The world wouldn’t miss ‘em,” Zoro grumbled.

It was a familiar wish. Sanji had heard Zoro’s murder fantasies dozens of times by now. He replied now the way he always did.

“I don’t want that.”

“I know, ‘cause you’re a dumbass. One with a big heart, but still a dumbass.”

“Says the directionless shitty swordsman.”

“Shit cook.”

“Mosshead.”

“Dartboard brows.”

“Neanderthal.”

“Swirly.”

“Algae-brain.”

By the time the two were done trading insults, their foreheads were pressed against one another, like two rams getting ready to butt heads, both growling in irritation at the other.

“You know, if you’re right about anything, and you rarely are, I do have to question my intelligence at times.”

“Hah, well at least you admit it,” Zoro replied, a smug grin on his face.

“Yeah, I’ve got to wonder how I thought it was a good idea to fall for the idiot who gets lost walking in a straight line.”

Zoro’s smugness fell away into a scowl momentarily before his face softened.

“Maybe, but you’d find me if I got lost, wouldn’t you, Prettybrows?”

Sanji felt his cheeks instantly warming up at the words and the nickname.

“Well, who else is gonna save your sorry ass, Mosshead,” Sanji returned, acutely aware of his softening tone and the way their foreheads were no longer butting like rams but instead were now resting gently against each other, their breaths mingling together.

Zoro raised a hand and caressed his cheek before slipping his fingers into his blonde hair. The green-haired man seemed to have an obsession with Sanji’s hair, his fingers unerringly found their way there whenever he could.

They stayed that way for a moment, absorbing the quiet affection between them.

“I’d do it, you know,” Zoro said after a long while.

“Hmm,” Sanji hummed inquiringly.

“I’d kill them all, for you. I wouldn’t hesitate. You just have to give me the word and I’d bring this castle crumbling down right at your feet.”

Sanji felt a shiver go down his spine. Sometimes he forgot who Zoro was before he knew him. Then there were moments like this, where Zoro spoke in a low tone, his eye flashing with dangerous and deadly intent, and Sanji was suddenly reminded that the man he loved was a fearsome killer. The man they called the Demon of the East Blue, relentless and devoted to all things, including his hunts. It didn’t scare Sanji. Zoro had made him feel a lot of things but never fear.

He turned the offer over in his head. To see the castle crumble, to see all of his family dead. It wasn’t like he hadn’t considered it, a life where he was certain he would be free of the curse of the Vinsmoke family. No more dungeons, no more labs, no more having his voice stolen from him, no more being used and degraded and beaten and humiliated. It was a nice fantasy, but it was just that.

The reality was that he was a Vinsmoke, the disgraced and unwanted third son of Vinsmoke Judge, and he had to deal with all the shit that came with that. Including, apparently, whatever was planned for tomorrow.

He felt his earlier anxiety flooding his gut again. Judge had mentioned several different experiments before, but this time felt different. This time he was making plans for after. Plans that involved the World Government, plans that involved Sanji being in compliance, being a useful weapon which meant that they were sure about this Stealth Black serum. They had cracked it. They were going to render Sora’s sacrifice null and void, make her actions useless (not that Sanji didn’t already believe his mother had no business sacrificing herself for him). They were going to take away everything that made him who he was and turn him into a something, not a someone. They were already treating him like he wasn’t there, like he didn’t matter, he was already a means to an end to them and this serum would just catalyze all the feelings Judge already had about him into a single action that would see to Sanji’s essential death.

No.

Judge couldn’t win, he couldn’t be made to do what they wanted. He would never want to be responsible for causing the despair of innocent people the way Judge wanted him to. He would not spit in his mother’s face by becoming the thing she had worked so hard to prevent him from being.

He was jolted from his thoughts as slightly chapped lips were suddenly pressed against his. He barely had time to reciprocate the kiss before Zoro pulled back, his forehead still against Sanji’s.

“Come back to me, Cook. Don’t get lost in that stupid head of yours.”

Sanji raised a hand and pressed it against Zoro’s which had drifted back to his cheek.

“I’m still here.”

“What are you thinking about?”

“Tomorrow.”

Zoro stiffened against him.

“We can go, tonight. We don’t have to stay here.”

“Where would we go? We’re a seafaring kingdom.”

“We’ll steal a boat.”

“The night guard would catch us. If they didn’t stop us from leaving, then they’d shoot our boat right out of the water.”

“At least we’d be free.”

“Freedom might not be in the cards for me, but you—”

“Don’t. Stop trying to get me to leave you. I already told you I don’t want to hear that shit. It’s not happening. Either we both leave or neither of us do.”

“But your dream—”

“People can have more than one dream. Being the World’s Greatest Swordsman has always been my lifelong goal, and it still is. But recently? Recently, I’ve been wondering if it would mean as much to me if you weren’t by my side.”

Sanji gasped at that, pulling back to stare at Zoro incredulously.

“But your dream is… and Kuina… What about Kuina?”

“Kuina would knock me upside the head for doing something as stupid as falling in love and she’d probably hate your guts, but she’d also understand why I’m doing this. It’s me and you, Cook. I can survive on my own. I’ve done that plenty in my life. I can be strong by myself and so can you. You’ve endured more than I can imagine. You’re one of the strongest men I’ve ever met.”

Sanji scoffed at that, a blush alighting his cheeks at the compliment.

“But I’d rather not be alone, not if I can be with you instead, and I’d rather not leave you alone to face any more of your family’s particular brand of bullshit.”

“But why?”

Zoro blinked at him.

“Don’t you know?”

Sanji blinked back at him.

“I love you, idiot.”

Sanji felt a blanket of warmth drift over him. Zoro had told him this plenty and still it seemed like a revelation every time he said it.

Sanji surged forward and pulled Zoro into a heated kiss. His chest was exploding with emotions, an endless stream of I love yous leaked out with each heartbeat while his every thought was consumed with Zoro.

Zoro, who would put his dreams on hold for him.

Zoro, who refused to leave him.

Zoro, who thought he was strong and brave and worth something just because he was Sanji.

Zoro, who loved him.

And suddenly, what Sanji needed to do became clear to him. He would never want to hold Zoro back. He wanted Zoro to leave Germa. He wanted him to fulfill his dream. He wanted him to keep his promise to Kuina. He wanted, no, he needed Zoro to make it out of this unscathed because he loved him, more than he ever thought it was possible to love someone. He loved Zoro enough to let him go.

He pulled back after a moment, breathing heavily as they pressed their foreheads against one another’s again.

“I need to ask you to do something. You’re going to hate me for asking and you’re going to want to say ‘no’, but I need you to agree anyway.”

Zoro leaned back slightly to study his face, suspicion and concern lingering in his gaze.

“Tomorrow, if this Stealth Black serum works. If they… if they turn me into something I’m not, if I lose my mind, I need you to promise me that you’ll kill me.”

Zoro’s face fell in shock before anger took over.

“No,” he replied flatly, his jaw set stubbornly.

“Zoro—”

“No. I’m not doing that, Cook. Why would you even ask me something like that?”

“Because you know me. The real me. I can’t become something to be used, something that hurts other people, something that can’t even be classified as a someone. I don’t want to be alive if everything that makes me who I am is stripped away. That person won’t be me. I don’t want to live like that, I can’t. Could you?”

Zoro’s jaw clenched at that.

“Please, you’re the only one I can trust with this.”

Zoro was silent for a long while.

“You’re a selfish bastard for asking me this.”

“I know.”

Sanji waited silently as Zoro took another moment to think it over before he finally answered.

“Okay. If they change you tomorrow, and if there’s no way to bring you back to yourself, then I’ll kill you.”

Sanji decided not to comment on the added caveat.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, Curly. Because I’m making another promise to you too. If they take you away and I have to kill you because of them, then I don’t care how long it takes or how many times you’ve told me you don’t want it, I will kill them. Each and every one of them. I won’t stop until they’re all in the ground right beside you.”

Sanji heard that warning bell in his head again, the one that reminded him that this was his Zoro but also the Pirate Hunter, the Demon of the East. He didn’t bother responding to that with words. He knew nothing he said was going to sway the other man. He settled for pressing another kiss to his lips instead. Zoro reciprocated, a palpable air of desperation to the kiss. Sanji was briefly thrown before it suddenly hit him that this might be their last night together. If Stealth Black worked, then Sanji would be gone, spiritually if not physically.

“Zoro,” he whispered against his lips.

Zoro’s breath hitched slightly in reply. He used Zoro’s given name much more than the mosshead used Sanji’s, but it still gave the prince a sense of accomplishment to see how affected his swordsman could get by it.

“I need you,” he admitted.

Zoro gave him a smile in return. Not one of his challenging or teasing smirks, like he did during their spars. Nor one of his gloating grins when he thought he won one of their arguments. It was a genuine soft smile, one that made his eye fill with emotions that shook Sanji to his very core. Zoro leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips before continuing to bestow a line of kisses onto his face, traveling towards his ear.

“I got you, Prettybrows. Told you I’d take care of you, I’m gonna keep my promise. Besides, you did so well tonight, you deserve whatever you need,” Zoro whispered.

Sanji shuddered at the praise as the man nipped at his ear, before sucking on the lobe lightly. He started kissing down Sanji’s neck, stopping to suck sections of his rapidly heating skin into his mouth and occasionally running his sharp teeth over the hot flesh. He felt Zoro’s hand rubbing up and down his sides before he started unbuttoning Sanji’s gold vest. The swordsman grumbled under his breath about the number of buttons, drawing an amused smirk from the prince. Sanji knew Zoro would tear the clothes separating them right off his body if Sanji allowed it. The moss had only succeeded in doing so once and Sanji’s ferocious kicks had ensured the brute never made that mistake again.

Eventually, he managed to undo the vest and then quickly tugged on the hem of Sanji’s white silk shirt beneath it, slipping it over his head and throwing it somewhere behind them, exposing Sanji’s bare chest to him.

Zoro’s eye raked over him hungrily, causing a blush to color the cook’s cheeks, traveling down his neck and upper chest.

“Gorgeous.”

Sanji went an even deeper shade of red then, Zoro’s compliments always having a visceral effect on him.

“You’re even prettier when you blush.”

Sanji’s heart thud in his chest and he felt a familiar tingling in his nose.

Damn it, Zoro usually had done more than just kiss him before he got a nosebleed. He looked down with embarrassment but Zoro’s hand on his chin made him look back up. Zoro stared him dead in his eye as his thumb swiped away the line of blood dripping from Sanji’s nose. He felt his jaw drop as he watched the other man bring his reddened finger to his lips and suck the blood off.

“God, you’re such an unhygienic brute,” Sanji insulted breathlessly, no heat or disgust managing to find its way to his words. Zoro smirked at him in reply.

“And you’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”

Sanji actually had to clamp his mouth shut so a pathetic whimper didn’t escape his chest but that didn’t mean his body’s reaction wasn’t easy to read, not with the way Zoro’s eye flickered down to Sanji’s groin before his smirk grew wider.

Easy. Sanji was so easy.

“Looks like you got a problem there, Prettybrows. Want me to take care of that for you?”

Sanji wordlessly nodded.

“Uh-uh, I want to hear you. Come on, let that silly brain of yours rest and use that gorgeous mouth instead.”

Sanji’s cock twitched in response.

So depressingly easy.

Zoro leaned forward, not letting any part of his body touch Sanji’s besides his mouth. He started at Sanji’s nipples, a comment about how pretty and perfect they were falling from his lips before he rolled the bud around with his tongue, drawing a gasp from Sanji. He gave his other nipple the same treatment before he started kissing up his chest, stopping to suck the skin of his collarbone and his throat and his ears. He skipped his lips and pressed kisses to both cheeks, his nose, his visible eye, before he brushed Sanji’s hair out of his face, exposing the other side of it. He kissed that eye and then both eyebrows and his forehead before he pulled back and stared down at Sanji.

“Don’t know why you keep half your mug hidden, Cook. Not with a face like this. I’d burn kingdoms for your face.”

Sanji was certain there was a growing wet stain in his pants just from the swordsman’s words alone.

“Zoro, please. I need you,” Sanji begged, squirming in place but not moving closer, not until Zoro broke the invisible barrier between them.

“So, tell me what you want.”

“You have to do something, anything.”

“Way too vague, Cook. Try again.”

“I need you.”

“You said that already. Try again.”

Sanji growled in frustration then.

“Damn it, I want you to fuck me. Is that what you want to hear?”

A smirk spread across Zoro’s lips.

“There you go. Was that really so hard?”

Sanji glared at him in reply.

“Don’t worry. I’ll fuck you for as long as you need me to tonight. Fuck all those stupid silly thoughts right out of your head. Fuck you until you remember how perfect you are.”

Sanji’s heart practically sank to his stomach as both flared with desire and love.

“I hate you,” he hissed at the other man, trying to save some semblance of his dignity even though he knew it was a lost cause.

“Oh really? Well, I’d better fix that, huh?”

Before Sanji could blink, Zoro’s hands were on him. He pulled Sanji up and onto his lap, settling him over his groin and pulling him into a heated kiss.

Zoro had a habit of kissing like a man on a mission. His sole purpose seemed to be to consume every last drop of Sanji. Zoro practically inhaled him, biting and sucking and nibbling at his lips to the point where Sanji wondered if he was literally trying to devour him. He wondered if he would even mind if that were the case.

He shuddered feeling Zoro’s hardening cock under him as their lips continued to clash. He rocked his hips, grinding down against his hardness. Zoro’s hands went to his sides, his fingers tightening and clutching his waist.

“Tease,” he reprimanded, his voice slightly shaky.

Sanji smirked in return, feeling a bit of triumph at finally getting one over on the moss, though that didn’t last long as Zoro moved him so he was laying on the bed with the mosshead hovering over him. Sanji didn’t think he would’ve liked being manhandled so much if it were anyone besides Zoro.

Zoro went back to his nipples, not stopping until both were erect, wet and redder than they were pink. Sanji shivered as he blew on the sensitive skin before lavishing them with even more attention. He spread his thighs so that Zoro could fit between them, pressing their bodies flush against one another. Sanji felt a sense of safety at the reassuring weight on top of him. He knew Zoro had his back, would remain stalwart by his side for as long as Sanji wanted him there. That happened to be the rest of his life so it worked out just fine for them both.

His hands went to Zoro’s shoulders as the larger man started kissing down his chest, stopping to kiss his abs individually before he continued down to past his waist. He jumped slightly as he felt Zoro mouthing at his cock. A spike of frustration went through him at not having his mouth directly on him, his pants still acting as a barrier between them. That abruptly ceased to be a problem as Zoro pulled his pants down his legs, taking his underwear with it, before throwing it all behind him.

He found himself squirming in discomfort as Zoro sat back on his haunches and stared down at Sanji now that he was completely naked.

“Beautiful,” he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, like it was just a fact of life, like there was never any reason to doubt the veracity of that single word.

Sanji couldn’t hold back his whimper this time. He stopped his wriggling as Zoro placed his hands on Sanji’s knees, spreading his legs which had clamped up in his embarrassment, hiding him from Zoro’s gaze. He whimpered again as Zoro licked his lips, staring down at Sanji’s leaking cock with eyes hooded in desire.

“Gonna get you off first so you can last while I’m inside you.”

Sanji shuddered but nodded in agreement all the same. One of the few modifications that had stuck around thanks to all the experiments had been Sanji’s unnatural stamina and refractory period. It usually took a few climaxes before he was fully satisfied. It was something he had initially been embarrassed by but Zoro also had unnatural stamina and could keep up with him easily. They had gotten so attuned to each other by now that Zoro knew the best ways to make sure Sanji was thoroughly sated by the end of the night and not left wanting at all.

He found himself trembling as Zoro leaned down and pressed a kiss to his hips, moving horizontally until he was at his happy trail before he started making his way lower. His breath hitched in anticipation before he released it in a huff when Zoro completely skipped over his throbbing erection and began giving attention to his thighs.

“Tease,” Sanji reprimanded.

“Takes one to know one,” Zoro retorted before returning to his thighs.

“Mmm, so strong. Can’t wait to feel them squeezing around my waist when I’m inside you,” Zoro muttered between kisses and licks, massaging the thick corded muscles of Sanji’s powerful legs.

He blushed at the statement, feeling just as weak to compliments aimed at his strength as he was towards compliments aimed at his looks.

He jolted as Zoro’s hand finally went where he needed him, his fingers brushing against Sanji’s cock before the thick digits wrapped around him. He moaned in frustration after a moment as Zoro kept his touches light, a single finger running along a vein while his thumb languidly massaged the head. Sanji kicked him in the side admonishingly.

“Impatient bastard,” Zoro chuckled in reply.

“Shitty bastard,” Sanji snapped back.

“Pretty bastard,” the mosshead returned, causing another blush to color Sanji’s cheeks and for his annoyance to ebb.

Zoro smirked, clearly knowing the kind of effect he had on Sanji. God, he was a fool for letting this man have so much power over him. But then he thought of everything Zoro was willing to do for him, all he was willing to give up and shove aside for him and he wondered if it wasn’t the other way around. Zoro should know better than to let Sanji have so much say over his life. Zoro deserved so much better than him. Zoro deserved someone who was as strong as him, as brave as him, as kind and wonderful and loyal and beautiful as him. Zoro deserved someone who had no attachments that kept them from his side. He deserved someone who wasn’t worthless, useless, valueless.

He deserved more than a failure.

Sanji is utterly useless.

His value will always be diminished by his constancy of failures.

If he wasn’t so weak, he would’ve been able to fight us.

The failure’s half a woman himself.

He could never be suitable of bearing the title of prince, let alone the title of my son.

He will never live up to the Vinsmoke name.

Pudding didn’t want you.

She would’ve saved us the trouble if she just took him and killed him.

Who the hell would want the failure, let alone for life?

All the words his family had said around his brain, repeating themselves over and over again.

Zoro didn’t see him, not the real him, not the him that his family saw. If Zoro truly knew what Sanji was, he’d never have fallen in love with him, he wouldn’t want him, he wouldn’t stay with him. Sanji was selfish for keeping him when he knew he’d never be enough. Zoro deserved—

“Oh shit,” Sanji blurted out, his thoughts abruptly washed away by the hot wetness surrounding his cock.

He looked down at Zoro whose lips were wrapped around him, his eyes locked on Sanji, a look of admonishment clear in his eyes. He sucked the throbbing appendage, pulling his lips off with an obscene pop.

“You’re getting lost in your stupid thoughts again. Whatever you’re thinking, you’re wrong.”

“Zoro, you could do so much better than me. I’m not worth—”

“Don’t you dare,” the green-haired man snapped, narrowing his eye angrily at him.

“Don’t finish that sentence. You’re worth everything, you are everything to me. I love you. I love that you’re kind, I love that you’re strong, I love that you’re an asshole sometimes and annoy the shit out of me, I love that you’re brave, I love that you’re passionate about cooking and I love that you dream of finding something no one’s ever seen before. Meeting you made me feel more alive than I have in years, so don’t you dare go telling me that you’re not worthy of me. I’m the one who’s not worthy of you.”

Tears welled up in Sanji’s eyes and he had to look away from the larger man, unable to withstand the steely conviction in Zoro’s gaze.

“I should let you go. You shouldn’t be in Germa. You belong out there, chasing your dream.”

“As far as I’m concerned, I belong with you. Only let me go if you don’t want me anymore, not because your family pumped your head full of bullshit that your dumb brain is making you think is true.”

Tears slipped down the blonde’s cheeks unbidden, his heart full of so many conflicting emotions.

“Look at me.”

Sanji kept his eyes glued to the wall.

“Cook.”

Sanji closed his eyes, biting his lips. He tasted the salty tears that had gathered there. He knew one look at Zoro would shatter him, it would shake his already rocky resistance to the other man’s devotion. Sanji should be doing what’s right and the right thing was to let Zoro go. He shouldn’t have made him promise to kill him, he should’ve told him to leave tonight, before Sanji was forced to take the Stealth Black serum. Zoro needed to be free, he deserved it and—

“Sanji.”

The blonde’s eyes flew open and he looked over at Zoro, wide-eyed at the use of his name, such a rare and sweet occurrence. Zoro’s face was a complicated mask of love, devotion, determination, defiance, anger and hurt. He still couldn’t wrap his head around being the source of so many passionate emotions in someone, let alone a man who Sanji was in love with.

“All I need to know is if you want me. Forget about what your mind is telling you or anything your family has said, do you still want me?”

“Yes,” he affirmed shakily.

“Then nothing else matters.”

“But what if—”

“Sanji.”

The blonde stopped again, a lance shot straight through his heart.

Once he figured out the origin of his name, he had developed complicated feelings around it, but with Zoro it was different. The way he said it, the emphasis he put into it, the emotion he imbued in the single word gave his name a totally different meaning. It made Sanji wonder if it was possible to say someone’s name and make it as if they didn’t even have one before that moment. Zoro would probably make fun of him if he told him that he felt that way sometimes when Zoro ever deigned to call him ‘Sanji’.

Sanji didn’t deserve him. Zoro could do so much better than him. Zoro was better than him in every conceivable way. However, for reasons Sanji couldn’t make himself believe, Zoro wanted him. Sanji would give him the world if it was in his power to do so, but all he asked for was Sanji. How could he deny him that much?

“Okay.”

Zoro held his gaze before he leaned up to press his lips to Sanji’s. The blonde wrapped his arms around the swordsman’s shoulders, pulling him close as they deepened the kiss. Sanji chased after him when Zoro pulled away, but the other man didn’t initiate another kiss.

“Gonna take you out of your head, make sure you stay in this room with me, not wherever your shitty thoughts are taking you,” Zoro promised before he began traveling down Sanji’s body again.

He watched Zoro kiss a path straight to his cock. This time, he didn’t hesitate to wrap his lips around the flagging erection, drawing a gasp from the blonde.

His mouth dropped open in a wordless moan as Zoro wasted no time lavishing attention on him, licking and sucking and swallowing around him. Sanji felt a thrill shoot through his veins as he watched the swordsman sucking him off. Watching Zoro do this always gave him an extra strain of pleasure. There was something different about the swordsman doing this, about his cock hitting the back of Zoro’s throat, about Zoro of all people opening his mouth wider, inviting Sanji to use him.

He rocked his hips forward tentatively, not wanting to hurt him. That thought should be laughable after everything that had happened between them. He had seen Zoro do things that no ordinary man should be able to do, but as far as Sanji was concerned, there wasn’t anything that existed beyond this room and Zoro’s comfort mattered more to him than the other man’s impenetrably reputation did.

Zoro moved Sanji’s hand to rest upon his head, encouraging him to take what he wanted, and he stopped questioning it any further. He thrust his cock into the wetness of Zoro’s mouth, moaning at the sensation. His fingers spasmed in his green hair, pushing him down on his length.

“Shit, fuck,” he grunted when Zoro groaned around him.

He glanced down, unreasonably pleased and aroused at the image of Zoro, powerful, strong, stubborn Zoro, sucking his cock and enjoying it, letting Sanji use his mouth without hesitation. He had to put a hand over his own mouth to stifle the noises he was making, not wanting anyone who might be lurking nearby to hear him.

Zoro tapped his hand after a moment and Sanji reluctantly let him go, groaning when Zoro sucked hard as he pulled his mouth off him.

“Need lube,” he explained, his voice raspy as he leaned over to Sanji’s drawer and pulled out the small jar of oil he kept there for these purposes.

Zoro made quick work of the jar, coating his hand in the oil before his fingers went to Sanji’s balls, massaging them in his grasp. Sanji smothered a groan in his palm before his hand was unceremoniously ripped from his face.

“Wanna hear you, Cook.”

“Someone might hear us,” Sanji returned.

“Let them. You moan so pretty for me.”

Sanji’s face was immediately overtaken by a blush at the unexpected comment.

“Mo— fuck!”

Sanji couldn't hold in the loud exclamation as Zoro bent down to lick a long, deliberate stroke over his asshole. The sensation hit him like lightning, wet heat and pressure in a place no one had ever touched before. He shuddered violently, his thighs trembling on either side of Zoro's head.

They'd never done that before. Sanji had never even thought that was something someone would want to do. The idea that Zoro would put his mouth there, would want to taste him in such an intimate way, it made something hot and uncomfortable twist in his chest.

“Moss,” he asked, his voice coming out higher than intended and reflecting his uncertainty.

Zoro pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, his expression serious despite the flush on his cheeks.

“Trust me. I’ve got you.”

Sanji breathed deeply, trying to identify where this sudden fear came from. He wasn't exactly modest when it came to the bedroom. Hell, he'd let Zoro fuck him six ways to Sunday without hesitation. Still, something about this particular act seemed more intimate than he'd thought it would be. More vulnerable and exposed.

It was one thing to let Zoro inside him, to feel him moving inside him, claiming him. But this? Having Zoro's face buried between his cheeks, his tongue on the most private part of him? That felt like surrendering something he hadn't known he was still holding back.

What if Zoro didn't actually like it? What if he was just doing this because he thought Sanji wanted it? What if—

"Can I?" Zoro asked, obviously sensing Sanji's internal battle. His voice was gentle, patient. One calloused hand stroked soothingly along Sanji's inner thigh.

Sanji thought it over, his heart hammering against his ribs. Zoro's eye was dark with want, his breathing heavy. He didn't look disgusted or reluctant. He looked... hungry. Like he genuinely wanted this, wanted to taste Sanji everywhere, wanted to claim every inch of him.

Sanji nodded slowly, not trusting his voice.

Zoro kept his gaze locked on him as he lowered his mouth between Sanji’s cheeks and licked a long stroke once more. He couldn’t help the shiver that left him as he watched Zoro close his eyes in clear pleasure. Zoro’s tongue eventually localized on his hole and Sanji could feel him pressing kisses and sucking at the ring of muscles between stripes of wet heat. He leaned back against the bed as the sensation of Zoro’s mouth started to cause his cock to pulsate almost painfully with need. He couldn’t stop the embarrassingly high-pitched whimper that left him when Zoro’s tongue pushed into him. Thankfully, Zoro couldn’t say anything about it with his mouth busy. He swirled his tongue around inside of him while simultaneously sucking at him.

Sanji’s legs started to tremble as he kept them as still as he could, not wanting to risk crushing Zoro’s head between his thighs. He bit his lips, trying to keep any noise from being released despite Zoro’s words about how pretty his moaning was. He felt precum leaking out of his cock just thinking about that. Zoro liked hearing him. Zoro thought his pathetic moaning and whimpering and whining was pretty.

Damn it, no. Sanji might be easy but he wasn’t that damn easy. He could hold out. It would be the end of them both if anyone heard them, no matter how pretty Zoro thought he sounded.

Eventually, Sanji felt a slick finger stroking his hole alongside Zoro’s tongue. He waited with anticipation to feel his finger enter him but instead he just circled the digit around Sanji’s ass before he began ghosting it up and down his length. Sanji held back a whine at Zoro’s teasing. He reached down himself, intent on jerking off but Zoro smacked his hand away without even looking. Sanji groaned loudly in frustration and felt Zoro grin against his ass.

“Shitty moss, would you just— shit!” Sanji exclaimed, unable to control his mouth momentarily as Zoro switched gears fast as lightning.

Suddenly, his mouth was on Sanji’s cock again and the hand on his balls was massaging him with even more intent. He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood as he tried to ward off the sounds that wanted nothing more than to rip out of his chest. Zoro was relentless. He sucked Sanji’s length hard, hollowing his cheeks as he unabashedly bobbed his head up and down. He pulled up so it was just the head of his cock still in his mouth and began to suck at the sensitive appendage.

Sanji slapped a hand over his mouth to lessen the volume of the noises coming out. Zoro dipped his head low on him, taking all of him into his mouth and began swallowing around him as his thumb rubbed circles into his balls. His other hand moved back to Sanji’s entrance and started stroking over his hole. If Zoro let his fingers slip inside of him that would be it, Sanji wouldn’t be able to stop screaming once he started.

Just as he thought that, one of Zoro’s fingers pushed into him. Sanji quickly grabbed the pillow beside him and pressed it onto his face to muffle the noises he was sure to start making soon enough. Zoro grabbed the pillow and threw it across the room. Sanji growled and stuffed his fist into his mouth, trying to stay quiet. Zoro began circling his thumb with a firmer touch on his balls and sucked him off in earnest as his fingers, now two, went deep inside of him and began brushing against his prostate. Sanji moaned loudly around his fist. He couldn’t hold it in anymore, couldn’t hold back, not when Zoro was overwhelming him this way. He dropped his hand to the sheets and bunched them up tightly, letting all the moans and whimpers and screams and sighs Zoro longed to hear fall past his lips. Zoro hummed with satisfaction around him, the noise shooting through Sanji’s cock into his belly.

He found himself thrusting as much as he could into the heat of Zoro’s mouth while also trying his hardest to grind against the fingers inside of him, the dual sources of pleasure tearing him apart.

“Zoro, I can’t— I’m close.”

The swordsman hummed around his cock, sending another wave of pleasure coursing through him. He started thrusting his fingers hard and fast into his fluttering hole, a stream of groans leaving his lips and vibrating around Sanji’s cock. He moved his hand off Sanji’s balls and moved them to his nipples, rolling the erect buds between his hot, slick fingers. His whole body jerked as Zoro brushed against his prostate once more before he felt his stomach tighten. His orgasm hit him with the force of a tsunami, his breath getting trapped his lungs and his body seizing up as his cock pulsed into Zoro’s mouth. A filthy moan left his lips as Zoro started sucking the cum right out of him, swallowing down all of it until there was nothing left. He pulled off of Sanji’s still semi-hard cock and kissed his way back up his body.

“You taste good, Cook.”

Sanji whined in reply.

“You can’t just say things like that to me, asshole.”

“Why the hell not? It’s true,” Zoro responded absentmindedly as he contented himself with pressing kisses to Sanji’s collarbone and neck. Sanji let his fingers sink into Zoro’s deceptively soft green locks and dragged the man’s face up to his own. He could taste himself on Zoro’s lips, something he had long since stopped finding even a little bit gross. If the trade off was kissing Zoro, then he didn’t give a damn where his lips had been.

He allowed his lips to fall open as he felt his tongue swiping across them, letting Zoro devour him completely. They lost themselves in the kiss for a few long minutes, Sanji’s body coming down from his first climax of the night before he pulled back and looked up into Zoro’s hooded eye. Arousal had made the silver orb appear completely black and they were laser-focused on Sanji and Sanji only. A shiver went down his spine at being the center of attention for a man who could exhibit focus so singular that it had earned him the pseudonym of Demon.

“I want to hear you too. I want to taste you too, please,” Sanji requested.

Zoro gave him a sweet smile in return.

“Whatever you want.”

Sanji felt his insides tremble at the truth-laden words. Zoro really would give him anything he wanted as long as it was in his power to do so. Hell, even if it wasn’t, the idiot would still try. Sanji really didn’t know what he did to deserve him.

The two of them switched positions, shuffling around until Zoro was finally divested of his clothes and was sitting on the edge of the bed with Sanji kneeling between his legs. He took a moment to admire his lover’s physique. Zoro had more muscle than most men in Germa courtesy of his ridiculous workout routine. Though Sanji tended to make fun of all the nonsensical things he did in the name of training, it certainly hadn’t hurt him in the looks department.

“Like what you see, Curly,” Zoro asked, a smirk evident in his voice.

“S’alright, I guess. All that photosynthesizing has been good for something,” Sanji replied, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a compliment.

Zoro barked a laugh in reply, a rare sound that warmed Sanji all the way down to his toes.

He turned his attention to Zoro’s erect member then. He was dripping precum, just from his actions on Sanji. Zoro very rarely prioritized his pleasure over Sanji’s. He seemed content with taking Sanji apart, giving him as many orgasms as he could stand and only worrying about himself once that task was done, even if it took hours for Sanji to finally be spent. He had to make it very clear to the idiot that he got pleasure from giving Zoro pleasure just as much as Zoro got pleasure from pleasuring Sanji. Even now, Zoro would still walk away after taking Sanji over the edge without having his own orgasm if Sanji didn’t press him. With that in mind, he set on the man with a singular goal, knowing full well Zoro would be rearing to go again just as quickly as Sanji would be.

He leaned forward without a second thought, closing his mouth around Zoro’s cock.

“Shit, Cook, warn a guy, would you,” Zoro rebuked breathlessly.

Sanji would’ve smirked at his reaction if he could. He sunk his mouth down onto Zoro’s hard length, soaking in the taste of him, the smell of him, the feel of him surrounding him, enveloping him and nearly overwhelming him completely. He began sucking exclusively on the head of his cock, revenge for earlier.

“Fuck, your mouth feels good. Like it was made just for me.”

Sanji practically purred at the praise, feeling Zoro convulse slightly as the noise vibrated around his cock.

Sanji sunk back down and began bobbing his head and sucking intermittently, his hand stroking what his mouth couldn’t reach. He established a rhythm, alternating between deep, slow movements and quicker, teasing flicks of his tongue along the sensitive underside. Zoro was squirming underneath him, gripping the sheets tightly in his fists, his knuckles turning white as praises poured out of his mouth in a breathless stream.

“So wet, so hot, so fucking perfect. Look at how good you’re taking me. Such a good boy.”

Sanji gave a full body shudder at that, his eyes fluttering closed as heat pooled in his belly. His body relaxed automatically at the praise, enough so that he found himself able to take all of Zoro’s significant length, feeling it overwhelming his throat as he pushed himself further. The stretch was intense, almost too much, but he craved it. He stayed as relaxed as he could manage, controlling his breathing through his nose even when it got hard to breathe, taking all his length and swallowing around it deliberately to give him as much pleasure as he could. He could feel Zoro’s thighs trembling on either side of him, could hear the way his breathing had become ragged and uneven.

“Fuck, Cook!”

He could tell the exact moment Zoro was going to come, reading the telltale signs with practiced precision. His compliments started getting raspier, the words becoming rougher and more fragmented as they left his lips. Zoro’s body was starting to tense up beneath him, muscles coiling tight like springs ready to release. Every fiber seemed to be drawing inward, building toward that inevitable peak. He went completely rigid suddenly, his entire frame locking up in that perfect moment of release before Sanji felt his mouth starting to fill. The warmth spread across his tongue as he swallowed thickly, working to take all that he could down his throat, determined not to waste a single drop.He could feel a few drops sliding down his chin, but he focused on licking Zoro clean before he pulled off and wiped a finger across his face. He considered the thick white substance for a moment before licking his fingers clean. He glanced up as Zoro made a choking sound. He was watching Sanji, his eye blown wide with arousal. He smiled at his dumbstruck expression before he stuck his tongue out and teasingly licked up the throbbing vein on Zoro’s still half hard member and sucked at the head, knowing it would take the swordsman at least two more go arounds before it started to hurt but he would still be sensitive.

“Curly, you’re going to kill me one of these days.”

Sanji sucked harder, enjoying Zoro’s prolonged groan before giving him a break and crawling into his lap instead to press a kiss to his lips.

“Stop whining. You’ve done a lot worse to me plenty of times.”

Zoro flipped them and kissed him hard, pressing him into the mattress. Sanji pulled back and looked down where Zoro was... yup, he was hard again.

“Are you serious?”

“What? You can’t keep up.”

Sanji raised an eyebrow at that and reached down but Zoro grabbed both of his hands and pinned them above his head.

“I know all your tricks by now, Cook. Said I wanted to take care of you, not the other way around.”

“I want you to feel good too. It’s not fun if you don’t.”

“I feel good when I make you feel good.”

“Well, so do I.”

“Anyone ever tell you how stubborn you are?”

“Just some shitty swordsman but he can’t find his way out of a paper bag so I wouldn’t take him too seriously.”

Zoro looked down at him, a challenge in his eyes, before he leaned down to press a slow kiss to his lips, one that was no less heated than any other kiss they’d shared that night. Still, it made an intense shiver go down his spine.

“Looks like that shitty swordsman is good for something, huh,” Zoro murmured against his lips.

“I don’t know about that. I seem to remember you saying something about fucking me, Moss, yet here we are,” Sanji pointed out, his voice husky and lower than normal.

“You want me, Cook, you just have to ask.”

Sanji wrapped his arms around Zoro’s shoulders, his touch soft and loving, knowing full well that Zoro liked that just as much if not more than he liked to have Sanji’s strong legs wrapped around him or his nails digging into his biceps.

“I want you inside of me,” he said, looking Zoro dead in the eye. The man above him trembled a little at that but wordlessly nodded and pressed another kiss to his lips before retrieving the jar of oil from atop the bedside dresser.

He coated his fingers in the liquid before bringing them to Sanji’s entrance. He swirled his fingers around the tight muscles, spreading the oil all around his hole.

Sanji swatted at him for teasing him, but Zoro caught the fingers in his free hand, pulling the digits to his lips and pressing a kiss to each finger individually. Sanji’s breath hitched as his tongue laved between each one before he pressed kisses to the knuckles and his palm.

“Didn’t know hands could be pretty until I saw yours.”

Sanji blushed and felt a hint of pride. He took extreme care with his hands just like Zeff taught him, seeing them as his treasures since they allowed him to fulfill his passion. Zoro was always as careful with them.

Sanji was so focused on the way Zoro was lavishing his hand with attention—kissing each knuckle, dragging his tongue along the sensitive webbing between his fingers—that he was surprised when he slipped his finger into him, smoothly sliding into the already partly loose hole. The intrusion was gentle but deliberate, and Sanji’s breath hitched at the sudden fullness. Zoro drew it out slowly, teasingly, before thrusting back in with two fingers this time, stretching him more insistently. Sanji practically melted under him as he spread his legs wider, opening himself up completely, allowing Zoro’s fingers to slip in a little deeper into him. He started rolling his hips desperately, trying to fuck himself onto his fingers, chasing the friction and pressure he craved.

“Damn, you have no idea how fucking beautiful you look right now,” Zoro murmured, his voice rough with desire as he watched Sanji writhe beneath him.

Sanji whined as he felt his cock dribbling precum onto his stomach, the sticky fluid pooling in the hollow there, both at the feeling of Zoro’s fingers scissoring inside him and at the words. The praise sent heat flooding through his body, making him feel exposed and wanted all at once. A gust of air left his lungs as Zoro grabbed one of his legs firmly and bent it, pressing it to Sanji’s chest and folding him nearly in half. He wordlessly held onto his own knee, fingers digging into his skin, exposing himself completely to Zoro as the man added a third finger inside of him, the stretch bordering on overwhelming.

Sanji groaned at the delicious stretch, his rim burning slightly as it accommodated the additional digit, doing his best to move his hips even though the new position made it more difficult. His movements were restricted now, limited to small, desperate grinds. Zoro started thrusting his fingers deeper and harder then, curling them just right, drawing mewls and other appreciative sounds from Sanji’s lips—breathy gasps, broken moans, and needy whimpers that he couldn’t suppress. A pathetic sound escaped him when Zoro pressed a soft kiss to his knee and anywhere else he could reach on the leg that Sanji was holding, the tender gesture contrasting beautifully with the aggressive pace of his fingers.

His whole body shook when Zoro’s fingers brushed up against his prostate, the bundle of nerves sending bolts of electricity running through him, lighting up every nerve ending. His back arched off the bed involuntarily, and his grip on his knee tightened as pleasure crashed over him in waves. Zoro’s lip quirked up at his reaction, clearly pleased with himself for reducing Sanji to such a trembling, desperate mess.

“There we go. Look at how ready you are for me, your body’s practically sucking me in.”

“Then fuck me already,” Sanji demanded, past the point of embarrassment and firmly in too-horny-to-give-a-damn territory.

“Haven’t gotten my fill of you yet, Cook.”

Sanji growled at that, a low, frustrated sound rumbling in his chest as he let go of his knee so he could kick Zoro. The bastard had that infuriating smirk on his face again. The man allowed the leg to meet his ribs with a solid thump, barely even flinching at the impact, before he wrapped his calloused hand firmly around Sanji’s foot and threw his leg over his shoulder in one smooth, practiced motion. He pushed the other leg further up on the bed, spreading him wider and pinning him more completely beneath his weight before he started thrusting his fingers into him in earnest, curling and scissoring them with deliberate precision that made Sanji’s breath catch in his throat.

Sanji’s mouth dropped open at the overwhelming sensation.

“Shit, fuck, Zoro! I can’t— fuck,” he babbled incoherently between harsh breaths and lustful moans.

“Love when you fall apart for me, Cook. Bet you could come on my fingers right now and still be ready to come on my cock again later, huh?”

Sanji could do nothing but whimper pathetically in reply, his voice catching in his throat. His body felt like a coiled spring wound impossibly tight, ready to snap at any moment. His cock was drooling steadily onto his stomach, leaving a sticky trail that only added to the overwhelming sensations coursing through him. Sweat was dripping down his flushed face, matting his blonde hair to his forehead. His heart was galloping wildly in his chest like a racehorse in the final stretch. His head was abuzz, completely foggy, filled with nothing beyond desperate, needy thoughts of Zoro and how badly he needed him—needed his touch, his weight, his everything.

All the while, Zoro’s thick fingers kept alternating their maddening rhythm between brushing teasingly against his sensitive walls and hitting his prostate dead on with devastating precision. Each direct hit sent sparks of white-hot pleasure shooting up his spine, making his toes curl and his breath hitch. Zoro was absolutely right—Sanji could come just from this, just from the relentless assault of those calloused fingers working him open. He felt tantalizingly, frustratingly close to it, teetering right on that knife’s edge. He almost wanted to beg for it, to plead and whimper for release because he needed it so desperately it hurt. But there was also the intoxicating promise of Zoro’s cock inside of him instead, stretching him full and complete, and god, he needed that just as badly—maybe even more. The war between immediate gratification and waiting for something even better was tearing him apart. Zoro’s fingers curled purposefully then, pressing hard against that bundle of nerves, and Sanji’s rapidly fraying patience finally snapped completely.

“Zoro, please. I need you inside of me. I want you to fuck me so hard, I still feel it tomorrow. I want to feel you in every part of me. I want to feel you filling me up. I want to come on your cock. I want you to come inside of me. I can’t take it anymore. Please, please, just fuck me,” Sanji begged, throwing a hand over his face as his eyes stung with tears from the stimulation.

Zoro pulled his hand away from his face before pressing a kiss just below Sanji’s visible eye.

“You have no idea how hot it is when you tell me what you want. Don’t worry, Prettybrows, I’ve got you.”

Sanji felt bereft as Zoro briefly withdrew from him, dipping his fingers back in the oil jar so he could spread the liquid on his erect cock. Sanji watched Zoro’s hand moving on himself intently, his mouth watering and his eyes dark with lust.

When Zoro was satisfied that he was slick enough, he pushed Sanji flat on his back again before he grabbed both his legs. Sanji wrapped them around his waist with no prompting and leaned up into the kiss Zoro pressed against his lips, tilting his head to deepen it and allow their tongues to brush against one another’s. His stomach jumped as he felt Zoro’s member brushing against his quivering hole, anticipation curling in his gut.

When Zoro finally pressed into him, Sanji was immediately overtaken by a heady, overwhelming feeling that consumed every inch of his being. Zoro was so thick and big and he was filling him up completely, stretching him in ways that made his breath catch in his throat. He was hot and heavy and all Sanji could feel was him, all he could taste, see, think, breathe was Zoro. His name echoed in Sanji’s mind like a mantra, drowning out everything else. His walls clenched around him instinctively, greedily drawing him in deeper as he bottomed out. The fullness was intoxicating, bordering on too much but somehow exactly what he needed. Zoro shifted a bit, adjusting inside of him and searching for a more comfortable angle, but that tiny movement—that single roll of his hips—was all it took to finally send Sanji careening over the edge.

He tensed up, every muscle in his body going rigid as his second orgasm hit him like a sea train at full speed, completely unexpected and utterly devastating. His vision went white as pleasure crashed through him in relentless waves, splattering across his and Zoro’s chest in hot streaks.

“Fuck… did you just…”

Sanji felt his cheeks redden in embarrassment, the heat spreading down his neck and across his shoulders. He couldn’t even look Zoro in the eye. He really came just from Zoro pushing into him. Just from that. Easy, he was fucking easy. Pathetic, even. What would Zoro think of him now?

“That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my whole life. Fuck, I love you,” Zoro growled, pulling him into a heated kiss. Sanji reciprocated, letting his body come down from the high.

They settled for kissing for a while, mouths moving together in a lazy, unhurried rhythm, allowing some time to pass and letting the intensity between them ease into something softer and more tender, before he nodded against Zoro’s forehead. Zoro arranged his legs again, hooking them more securely around his waist, before he started moving inside of him with careful, measured thrusts. Sanji hissed a little, still sensitive and oversensitive after his orgasm, every nerve ending feeling raw and exposed. Zoro pressed a placating kiss to his temple, then another to his cheekbone, and kept his movements slow and gentle but deliberate, each roll of his hips intentional and full of affection. It felt so nice and sweet, so different from their usual frantic coupling, that Sanji’s heart constricted painfully in his chest, tears burning hot and insistent behind his eyes again.

But no, he was not going to embarrass himself further by crying just because Zoro was making love to him—actually making love to him, treating him like he was something precious and worth cherishing. Sanji started rolling his hips up just as languidly, matching Zoro’s unhurried pace, enjoying the softness of it all, the overwhelming care and gentleness that Zoro was treating him with. He got lost in it completely, surrendering to the sensation, the room filled with nothing but satisfied moans, breathless huffs, whispered names and love-soaked murmurs that neither of them would probably remember clearly in the morning.

“Zoro, faster,” Sanji asked.

Zoro wordlessly sped up, rolling his hips into him at a more urgent pace. Sanji pressed his heels into the small of his back, wordlessly urging him on, feeling the flex of Zoro’s muscles beneath his legs with each powerful thrust. He groaned as Zoro started snapping his hips into him, thrusting harder, the change in tempo making his breath catch in his throat.

“Yes, like that. Feels so good,” he moaned, his voice breaking on the last word.

“You too, Cook. Like you were made for my cock, taking me so well.”

Sanji ate up the praise with a moan, shifting so Zoro slipped even deeper into him. The angle sent sparks of pleasure racing up his spine, and he could feel every ridge and vein of Zoro’s cock dragging against his sensitive walls.

“Ugh, Zoro. I can feel you in my stomach, it’s so fucking deep.”

The words tumbled out before Sanji could stop them, raw and honest and probably too revealing. He felt Zoro’s rhythm falter, felt the way his breath hitched, and then suddenly Zoro stopped thrusting into him entirely. Sanji whined at the loss of movement, his body clenching around Zoro’s cock in protest. He opened his eyes and looked up at the man who was staring down at him with a wide, wild eye, his pupil blown so dark there was barely any gray left visible.

The intensity of that gaze made Sanji’s heart stutter in his chest. Then Zoro suddenly pulled out nearly completely—just the thick head of his cock still stretching Sanji’s rim—and thrust back into him hard and deep, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal stroke. Sanji felt like all the air was punched out of him, his back arching off the bed as Zoro continued in that vein, fucking him as hard as Sanji had begged him for earlier.

“Shitty fucking Cook, saying things like that to me, don’t know what you’re doing to me, driving me crazy,” Zoro was ranting mostly to himself as he continued the onslaught, each word punctuated by another devastating thrust.

Sanji could do nothing but lay back and take it, his fingers trembling on the bed by his side, clutching uselessly at the sheets. The force of Zoro’s thrusts was making his whole body shift up the mattress, and he felt utterly wrecked, completely at Zoro’s mercy. His cock was hard again—impossibly, painfully hard—slapping against his stomach with each impact of Zoro’s hips against his ass.

Zoro captured the shaking hand in his own, intertwining their fingers and pinning it to the bed beside Sanji’s head as he continued fucking him with long deep thrusts. The gesture was so tender, so at odds with the brutal pace, that Sanji felt his throat tighten with emotion. Their palms pressed together, fingers laced, and Sanji squeezed tight, needing that anchor, that connection.

Sanji could feel another orgasm building in his gut and whimpered at the feeling, so close to his previous one. It seemed impossible—he’d already come twice, his body was wrung out and oversensitive—but Zoro was relentless, hitting that spot inside him with devastating precision. Zoro was going to be the death of him, he was certain. He’d die here in this bed, fucked apart by his swordsman, and he couldn’t think of a better way to go.

“Zoro,” he pled desperately, not even sure what he was asking for anymore. More? Less? Everything?

“You close again, Curls?” Zoro’s voice was rough, strained with his own pleasure, but there was something almost awed in it too.

Sanji nodded frantically, squeezing Zoro’s fingers as he felt his walls fluttering around the hard cock spearing him in two. His rim was burning, stretched so wide around Zoro’s girth, and every thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure-pain through his body. Sanji’s free hand twitched towards his aching cock, desperate for friction, but Zoro was quick to order him otherwise.

“No touching. Want you to come on my cock again.”

Sanji whined wordlessly in reply, his hand falling back to the bed. The denial made his cock throb, precome leaking steadily from the tip to pool on his stomach.

“I know you can do it, Cook. You’re so hot and tight for me. Perfect. So fucking perfect.”

Sanji couldn’t even react to all the words of praise pouring from Zoro’s lips anymore, he was lost to the sensations of his cock inside of him, his body pressed against him, his rumbling voice flooding his mind so nothing existed outside of this room, nothing mattered but Zoro. The weight of him, the heat of him, the way he filled Sanji so completely—it was everything, it was too much, it wasn’t enough.

Sanji’s eyes started rolling to the back of his head when Zoro shifted to hit his sweet spot dead on, his orgasm enticingly imminent. His prostate was so sensitive now, swollen from the constant stimulation, and each thrust against it sent white-hot pleasure shooting through his veins.

“M’gonna come inside you after you’ve peaked. Then I’m gonna fuck you again until we both can’t stand it anymore.” Zoro’s voice was a dark promise in his ear, sending shivers down Sanji’s spine.

Sanji moaned breathlessly in reply, the sound high and desperate.

“You want that?” Zoro asked, his thrusts never faltering, his eye boring into Sanji’s.

The blonde prince nodded in reply, unable to form words. Yes, he wanted that. He wanted everything Zoro would give him, wanted to be used and filled and claimed until there was no doubt who he belonged to.

“Then come for me, Sanji.”

It was hearing his name from Zoro’s lips again that finally sent him over the edge, his vision whiting out as he came hard, like he hadn’t already two times before. His whole body shook and convulsed, trying to fold in on himself as pleasure shot through him almost painfully. His cock pulsed, painting his chest and stomach with streaks of white, and his ass clenched rhythmically around Zoro’s cock, trying to pull him deeper. Zoro fucked him through it, not stopping even when Sanji tried to squirm away from the overstimulation, holding him in place with his weight and strength.

“I’m close, Cook,” Zoro grunted, his rhythm becoming erratic.

He instinctively clenched his ass around Zoro’s cock, wanting to keep him there, wanting to feel him come apart inside him, ignoring how his sensitive muscles spasmed at the action. The overstimulation was bordering on painful now, every nerve ending screaming, but Sanji didn’t care. He wanted to give Zoro this, wanted to be good for him.

Sanji whined in protest when he felt Zoro pull out of him, the sudden emptiness making him feel bereft, but then gasped when he was abruptly flipped onto his stomach. His arms were too weak to hold himself up, so he just collapsed face-first into the pillow, his ass in the air. Zoro pressed himself against his back, blanketing him with his body, and lined his cock up to his entrance before pushing back inside of him. The blonde’s mouth dropped open in a silent moan at yet another delicious angle, feeling Zoro somehow even deeper like this.

Zoro didn’t build up this time, he fucked him rough and deep, drawing loud exclamations and choked off sobs from Sanji. The new position had Zoro’s cock dragging against his prostate with every thrust, and Sanji’s hands scrabbled uselessly at the sheets, trying to find purchase, trying to ground himself.

“Is it good,” he grunted into his ear, his breath hot against Sanji’s neck.

“It’s so good. Zoro, don’t stop. Please, please, please.” Sanji was babbling now, beyond shame, beyond pride. He was just a mess of sensation and need.

“I’ll give you as much as you want, Cook. Won’t stop until you want me to. Gonna give you what you deserve.”

Sanji turned his head, meeting Zoro’s gaze as he loomed behind him, his soft eye antithetical to his harsh thrusts. There was so much emotion there—desire, yes, but also something deeper, something that made Sanji’s chest ache. The green-haired man dropped a tender kiss to the top of his head and Sanji closed his eyes against the softness of it, feeling tears prick at his lashes again.

Zoro renewed his efforts, thrusting deep, one hand gripping Sanji’s hip hard enough to bruise while the other braced beside his head. Every part of Sanji was sensitive and overstimulated. Zoro’s actions verged on painful but he didn’t want it to stop. This was what he needed—to be overwhelmed, to be consumed, to forget everything but this moment.

“Sanji, I’m going to—” Zoro’s voice was strained, his control fraying.

“Inside me. Please, I need to feel you.” Sanji’s voice was wrecked, barely more than a rasp.

Zoro groaned in response and started murmuring in his native East dialect, words Sanji couldn’t understand but was sure were probably just as intelligent as anything his own pleasure-addled mind could think up. His accent curled through the words and hit Sanji’s ear pleasingly, the rough consonants and rolling vowels sending pleasant shivers down his spine. He’d probably come again just from that if he was physically able to.

He started thrusting back against Zoro, meeting him thrust for thrust despite his exhaustion, letting out a filth-laced litany of encouragements for him to come inside of him, to give him everything he had, to fill him up, to mark him, to make him his. Zoro stiffened above him before letting out a drawn-out groan, the sound reverberating through Sanji’s body.

Sanji moaned when he felt Zoro’s cock pulsing into him, the hot liquid filling him up, painting his insides. It felt obscene and perfect and right. It made an obscene squelching sound fill the room as Zoro fucked his cum deeper into him, each thrust pushing it further inside, before his thrusts gradually slowed down and his hips finally stuttered to a stop.

Sanji heaved out a breath as Zoro settled on top of him, his full weight pressing him into the mattress. He was entirely too damn heavy, but he made no effort to move. Their bodies were sticky with sweat and cum—Sanji’s release smeared between them, Zoro’s leaking out around his softening cock—and Zoro’s cock was softening inside of him and that wouldn’t be fun on his sensitive body when he pulled out, his weight was practically crushing his lungs, but Sanji didn’t care. He wanted all of Zoro. Wanted to feel him, to be surrounded by him, to be held by him.

“Your face is really hot when you come,” Zoro murmured unprompted into his ear.

Sanji jolted a little and then smacked the idiot upside the head.

“You can’t say things like that to me!”

“Why not? I’ve been saying them to you all night, you’ve liked it well enough. Don’t get shy on me now, not when my cock is still inside of your ass. I think we’re past embarrassment, shit cook.”

Sanji blushed at the words, shifting slightly and feeling said cock brushing against his sensitive insides.

“Gonna take a nap before we go again,” Zoro murmured sleepily.

“Oi! Don’t fall asleep on top of me, you’re going to suffocate me. And at least clean up first.”

“Why? We’re just going to get dirty again. I meant what I said about fucking you again tonight,” Zoro replied shamelessly, shifting them so they were laying on their sides.

“Incorrigible bastard,” Sanji muttered reproachfully, though he notably didn’t protest Zoro’s words.

“You like it,” the mosshead retorted.

“You planning to take that thing out of me any time soon,” he asked, noting that Zoro made sure his cock didn’t slip out as he moved them.

“Nah, gonna wake you up with it later.”

“Pervert,” Sanji hissed in reply, before kicking Zoro’s side and then promptly flinching as it caused Zoro’s cock to once against brush against his overstimulated sweet spot.

Zoro chuckled at that before carefully extracting himself from Sanji, pressing a kiss to his head as the blonde cringed at the action.

“Take a break, pillow princess. I’ll be right back.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one who just got their brains fucked out and came three times in a single hour, asshole,” Sanji snapped back acerbically, shifting around until he found a comfortable position.

His body felt like it had gone 10 rounds of grueling training but there was also a pleasant buzz still hanging over him and his thoughts were mercifully calm and hazy. None of the things he was worried about seemed able to penetrate the fog of pleasure and fatigue that he and Zoro’s lovemaking had created.

He closed his eyes, riding the high of his afterglow. He was so deep in his haze that he was startled when he felt a warm cloth running over his body. He wordlessly allowed Zoro to clean him up. Left to that brute, they’d both fall asleep covered in various bodily fluids, but Sanji would be damned before he let that happen.

Zoro went away briefly before slipping back into the bed beside him, pulling Sanji close so he was cuddled against his chest. He threw an arm around his waist, nuzzling into Zoro’s neck.

The two laid pressed together, basking in the other’s presence. Sanji wanted this moment to last forever.

Except it wouldn’t, because the morning would inevitably come and his life was going to change as he knew it tomorrow.

He felt tears welling up in his eyes as he ruminated on the unfairness of it all. His life was a series of soul-crushing events designed to show him just how worthless he was in the grand scheme of the world. He had resigned himself to going to his grave being nothing more than what he had always been: Judge’s greatest shame, Germa’s unwanted prince, Reiju’s useless burden, the idiot trio’s punching bag, Sora’s wasted sacrifice, Zeff’s worst mistake. He didn’t imagine that he would become anything more than that to anyone else. He couldn’t account for Zoro showing up in his life. He still didn’t know how he became the man that captured the heart of the Demon of the East Blue, but of all the things he had ever been, he wanted to go to his grave clinging to that.

“Sanji?” Zoro asked, pulling back slightly to look at his face.

Zoro’s lips pursed unhappily when he saw the tears silently making their way down his cheeks. He opened his mouth to speak but Sanji shook his head before leaning in and pressing a kiss to his lips, pouring as much of himself as he could into it.

“I love you,” he muttered against Zoro’s slack mouth.

“I love you too,” Zoro responded almost immediately.

The two were silent for a while before Zoro hesitantly began to speak.

“Sanji, we—”

“Can you just hold me tonight, please?”

Zoro sighed in reply before nodding.

“Anything you want.”

The two maneuvered again until Zoro’s chest was pressed up against Sanji’s back, his muscular arm wrapped around Sanji’s waist and holding him tightly.

“It’s going to be okay. I’m going to figure this out for us,” Zoro promised softly.

Sanji let out a wet sigh at that. Zoro wasn’t the type to make empty promises or platitudes, so he knew the man believed his words but Sanji knew better that it was a useless vow to make.

He didn’t bother telling Zoro as much. There was no use dwelling on it anymore. This night was for him and Zoro, they were the only ones that mattered, not Judge, not Reiju, not his brothers, not the scientists, just the two of them. Sanji was going to hold on to that as long as he was able.