( zoro gets the reaction he's looking for, at least — the way sanji clenches around his fingers, already impossibly tight, cursing and body practically shuddering against him as he cants his fingers just so —
and it's satisfying to have this brief moment of control over him, over this situation, despite the fact that it's this shitty cook who slunk into bed and whispered to him about his pussy, whose desperate hand gripped zoro's wrist to keep his fingers pressed inside. at the very least, it's enough to lull him into some false sense of security in this, even when his free hand is yanked upwards, palm atop his own guiding him to squeeze one of his tits — and he does, feels how much fuller they are in his hand (since last time, even), eager to feel that same milk beading from his nipple, rolling his thumb over him a few times before pinching the swollen bud.
the low groan sanji tries unsuccessfully to hide against zoro's mouth says almost as much as the way his hips shudder when he does it — almost as much as the wet sounds of their kiss, a trail of saliva between them lingering that zoro licks away, the lewd squelch of his cunt around his fingers as zoro draws them back as much as sanji allows with the way he clutches his wrist and fucks them that little bit back in. he shivers a little, too, when blunt nails drag against the base of his ears, snapping him out of his pussy-drunk haze.
the way you would've before. there are about a thousand ways zoro has thought about fucking sanji in this hellhole, none any more or less viable considering all of his god damn insistence that he's not ... whatever it is that he finds so fucking abhorrent. even after he let zoro fuck roughly into his mouth, after he ground his hips frantically against zoro's thigh until he came, after they kissed and kissed and kissed again, after saving each other's lives a frankly stupid amount of times. there isn't any before, there's just — now.
now, with sanji's fingers fisted in his collar, dragging him upwards, his teeth instinctively gritting together, a low sound rumbling in his chest — a warning or a declaration of his disdain or a combination of both. it'll probably be funny in hindsight to compare how easily, willingly, happily he submits to nami, turns his brain off and lets her use him, compared to how fucking aggravating it is to have sanji in his face, pretty blue gaze steely and sharp and serious, demanding shit from him. equally aggravating is the way he practically melts when his hand is tugged away and sanji grinds his bare cunt against zoro through the fabric of his pants, making him groan, head tipping back against the pillow when he's let go. )
You don't scare me, cook, ( zoro says, matter of fact. this charade of tiptoeing around the cook ever since they figured out what's — maybe happening to him has gone on for too long, even if the human side of him feels at war with the animalistic side of him with ferocious instincts to protect, protect, protect. he's strong-willed, though, toughened by his training.
with a grunt, he rolls on top of sanji, still between his thighs and pinning him down, cunt on display in the flicker of firelight dancing through their room. zoro hastily tugs his pants down over his ass just enough to get his cock out and into his hand, no time for preening or showing off or making him beg for it like he really fucking should because he's suddenly struck with a sharp wave of need, sinking into his tight heat so easily it makes him moan when he bottoms out. fuck. fuck. it's better than he even thought it would be — so good that he barely gives any time for either of them to adjust or even comprehend what they're actually doing, just starts fucking into him again and again, dizzy from how intoxicatingly good it feels, panting as his mouth ghosts over sanji's lips. )
[ he claimed, rather boldly, that he was the same, but fuck if everything doesn't feel different — heightened to a ridiculous degree, so that the pinch of his nipple sends a searing ache straight to his pelvis like a goddamn arrow. normally, he'd fight being forcibly manhandled by zoro like this, but he's paralyzed by pleasure, rolling onto his back with zoro's substantial weight bearing down upon him, his legs spread wide, his cunt glistening and pink and throbbing for attention. he wants to be filled like a chocolate éclair, claimed with zoro’s come in the inherent way he belongs to nami, and that’s how he knows he’s lost whatever was left of his mind after changing and changing and changing, and the thought alarms him into squirming. his fingers clutch his chest, circling his wet nipple, and shit, he could come just like this, from the friction of his own fingertips and the suggestion of zoro's cock, because he can't actually —
he can't. this can't. sanji's heart leaps abruptly into his mouth at the sudden press of hardness at his cunt, stark realization washing over him, that he's — they — they’re about to — ]
Fuck.
[ his fingers dig into zoro's arms as he sinks inside of him in one fluid motion. he's so much bigger than the fingers sanji has stuffed inside himself, reaching so much deeper that he suddenly feels full to bursting. zoro gives him no time at all to adjust, snapping his hips into him as sanji writhes helplessly, only vaguely aware that he's dripping milk from his tits and slick from his cunt, because now zoro's lips are more important than anything, teasing him with their proximity. sanji cranes his neck and captures them in a bruising kiss, his legs hooking around zoro's waist to trap him. ]
Fuck. [ softer now, his cheeks flaring with color, hips rising off the bed to meet zoro’s relentless movements. it’s so different from having sex with a woman, so different from anything, because zoro isn’t like anyone he’s ever met. his feelings for zoro aren’t like anything he understands. he has no comparison. he doesn’t even want to think about them. ] Fuck me. I need you. I need you all the time. I hate it, I hate you —
[ the words spill out of him from a place he can’t control, his breath coming fast, his pleasure so hot and agonizing that tears prickle the corners of his eyes. he slides a hand between them to stroke at his swollen clit, and all it takes is a few nudges before he’s clenching around zoro’s cock, shivering as an orgasm ripples through him. his breaths turn into desperate moans as his cunt abruptly grows ten times more sensitive, zoro’s thrusts arching his back off the bed as tears spill from his eyes. ]
You shitty little shit — [ he breaks off into a string of violent curses that end in whimpering gasps, another orgasm building fast, this one racing through him like fire. his eyes squeeze shut, his thighs clamping around zoro’s hips as he shudders. ] I love — I love you —
( zoro doesn't know how to stop himself now that he's flung them into uncharted waters with no navigator to guide them — he can't tell if he's sinking or swimming as he thrusts into sanji like it's the only thing he knows to do. he can't tell if it's his own deeply human desires, or —
whether his changeling instincts are kicking in, making him even more desperate than he already was, fingers curling tightly into the pillow next to sanji's head, nails piercing through the fabric, palming over one of his leaking tits, groaning as he fucks so hard into him that the sound of skin against skin keeps making his ears twitch on top of his head. the word breed flashes through his mind, making zoro gasp, overwhelmed by the softness of his belly, the fullness of his tits, how easily his cunt is taking him again and again and thinking about filling him with his cum until he has nothing left ...
sanji's mouth brings him back to reality, kisses deep and languid and messy, zoro missing his lips entirely sometimes and not really giving a shit. his taste, his gasped curses, the way his hips roll to meet zoro's — they're all things that have flickered in the back of his mind even back in arlong park or coco village or on the merry if it meant getting the shitty cook to shut the hell up — and he knows that it's not just because of what's happened to both of them here, how they've changed.
it feels so fucking good, with thighs wrapped around his waist, basically begging to keep zoro inside of him as he fucks deeper, those hot, slick walls tightening around him as sanji's orgasm rapidly approaches, each whimpered curse, plea, gasped insistence that he hates him spurning him on even further. it makes him flush, maybe from anger or from pure fucking desire — because this shithead doesn't hate him, sanji needs him, and zoro needs sanji just as badly. the sudden clench of his cunt around him, hips shuddering as he comes, has zoro moaning, hips speeding up as he chases his own orgasm, so close, so close —
i love you.
zoro's mouth hangs open uselessly as he pants, a few more insistent thrusts through sanji's second orgasm before he's coming hard inside of him, filling him up for so long he thinks that maybe he's passed out, maybe he's imagined the whole thing, every single word — but when he blinks his eyes open slowly and the ringing in his ears starts to fade, all he sees is the cook, blonde hair mussed, tear tracks down his cheeks, looking debauched and exhausted and fucking beautiful.
he loves him? )
Don't go, ( comes zoro's abrupt plea, eyes widening, suddenly seized by the thought of being told to go fuck himself, that he didn't mean it, that he didn't mean any of this, to stay the fuck away from him. his heart pounds in his chest, hyperaware of the fact that he's still inside of him even as his cock's softening, like his hips can't fathom the thought of letting even a drop of his cum out. desperately, a hand reaches out to cup his cheek, pad of his thumb ghosting over his lower lip before he leans in to kiss him, a slow, lingering thing before he murmurs so quietly against his mouth that it borders on a whisper: ) I — Sanji, please. Please stay. You know that I — you have to know.
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no subject
and it's satisfying to have this brief moment of control over him, over this situation, despite the fact that it's this shitty cook who slunk into bed and whispered to him about his pussy, whose desperate hand gripped zoro's wrist to keep his fingers pressed inside. at the very least, it's enough to lull him into some false sense of security in this, even when his free hand is yanked upwards, palm atop his own guiding him to squeeze one of his tits — and he does, feels how much fuller they are in his hand (since last time, even), eager to feel that same milk beading from his nipple, rolling his thumb over him a few times before pinching the swollen bud.
the low groan sanji tries unsuccessfully to hide against zoro's mouth says almost as much as the way his hips shudder when he does it — almost as much as the wet sounds of their kiss, a trail of saliva between them lingering that zoro licks away, the lewd squelch of his cunt around his fingers as zoro draws them back as much as sanji allows with the way he clutches his wrist and fucks them that little bit back in. he shivers a little, too, when blunt nails drag against the base of his ears, snapping him out of his pussy-drunk haze.
the way you would've before. there are about a thousand ways zoro has thought about fucking sanji in this hellhole, none any more or less viable considering all of his god damn insistence that he's not ... whatever it is that he finds so fucking abhorrent. even after he let zoro fuck roughly into his mouth, after he ground his hips frantically against zoro's thigh until he came, after they kissed and kissed and kissed again, after saving each other's lives a frankly stupid amount of times. there isn't any before, there's just — now.
now, with sanji's fingers fisted in his collar, dragging him upwards, his teeth instinctively gritting together, a low sound rumbling in his chest — a warning or a declaration of his disdain or a combination of both. it'll probably be funny in hindsight to compare how easily, willingly, happily he submits to nami, turns his brain off and lets her use him, compared to how fucking aggravating it is to have sanji in his face, pretty blue gaze steely and sharp and serious, demanding shit from him. equally aggravating is the way he practically melts when his hand is tugged away and sanji grinds his bare cunt against zoro through the fabric of his pants, making him groan, head tipping back against the pillow when he's let go. )
You don't scare me, cook, ( zoro says, matter of fact. this charade of tiptoeing around the cook ever since they figured out what's — maybe happening to him has gone on for too long, even if the human side of him feels at war with the animalistic side of him with ferocious instincts to protect, protect, protect. he's strong-willed, though, toughened by his training.
with a grunt, he rolls on top of sanji, still between his thighs and pinning him down, cunt on display in the flicker of firelight dancing through their room. zoro hastily tugs his pants down over his ass just enough to get his cock out and into his hand, no time for preening or showing off or making him beg for it like he really fucking should because he's suddenly struck with a sharp wave of need, sinking into his tight heat so easily it makes him moan when he bottoms out. fuck. fuck. it's better than he even thought it would be — so good that he barely gives any time for either of them to adjust or even comprehend what they're actually doing, just starts fucking into him again and again, dizzy from how intoxicatingly good it feels, panting as his mouth ghosts over sanji's lips. )
no subject
he can't. this can't. sanji's heart leaps abruptly into his mouth at the sudden press of hardness at his cunt, stark realization washing over him, that he's — they — they’re about to — ]
Fuck.
[ his fingers dig into zoro's arms as he sinks inside of him in one fluid motion. he's so much bigger than the fingers sanji has stuffed inside himself, reaching so much deeper that he suddenly feels full to bursting. zoro gives him no time at all to adjust, snapping his hips into him as sanji writhes helplessly, only vaguely aware that he's dripping milk from his tits and slick from his cunt, because now zoro's lips are more important than anything, teasing him with their proximity. sanji cranes his neck and captures them in a bruising kiss, his legs hooking around zoro's waist to trap him. ]
Fuck. [ softer now, his cheeks flaring with color, hips rising off the bed to meet zoro’s relentless movements. it’s so different from having sex with a woman, so different from anything, because zoro isn’t like anyone he’s ever met. his feelings for zoro aren’t like anything he understands. he has no comparison. he doesn’t even want to think about them. ] Fuck me. I need you. I need you all the time. I hate it, I hate you —
[ the words spill out of him from a place he can’t control, his breath coming fast, his pleasure so hot and agonizing that tears prickle the corners of his eyes. he slides a hand between them to stroke at his swollen clit, and all it takes is a few nudges before he’s clenching around zoro’s cock, shivering as an orgasm ripples through him. his breaths turn into desperate moans as his cunt abruptly grows ten times more sensitive, zoro’s thrusts arching his back off the bed as tears spill from his eyes. ]
You shitty little shit — [ he breaks off into a string of violent curses that end in whimpering gasps, another orgasm building fast, this one racing through him like fire. his eyes squeeze shut, his thighs clamping around zoro’s hips as he shudders. ] I love — I love you —
no subject
whether his changeling instincts are kicking in, making him even more desperate than he already was, fingers curling tightly into the pillow next to sanji's head, nails piercing through the fabric, palming over one of his leaking tits, groaning as he fucks so hard into him that the sound of skin against skin keeps making his ears twitch on top of his head. the word breed flashes through his mind, making zoro gasp, overwhelmed by the softness of his belly, the fullness of his tits, how easily his cunt is taking him again and again and thinking about filling him with his cum until he has nothing left ...
sanji's mouth brings him back to reality, kisses deep and languid and messy, zoro missing his lips entirely sometimes and not really giving a shit. his taste, his gasped curses, the way his hips roll to meet zoro's — they're all things that have flickered in the back of his mind even back in arlong park or coco village or on the merry if it meant getting the shitty cook to shut the hell up — and he knows that it's not just because of what's happened to both of them here, how they've changed.
it feels so fucking good, with thighs wrapped around his waist, basically begging to keep zoro inside of him as he fucks deeper, those hot, slick walls tightening around him as sanji's orgasm rapidly approaches, each whimpered curse, plea, gasped insistence that he hates him spurning him on even further. it makes him flush, maybe from anger or from pure fucking desire — because this shithead doesn't hate him, sanji needs him, and zoro needs sanji just as badly. the sudden clench of his cunt around him, hips shuddering as he comes, has zoro moaning, hips speeding up as he chases his own orgasm, so close, so close —
i love you.
zoro's mouth hangs open uselessly as he pants, a few more insistent thrusts through sanji's second orgasm before he's coming hard inside of him, filling him up for so long he thinks that maybe he's passed out, maybe he's imagined the whole thing, every single word — but when he blinks his eyes open slowly and the ringing in his ears starts to fade, all he sees is the cook, blonde hair mussed, tear tracks down his cheeks, looking debauched and exhausted and fucking beautiful.
he loves him? )
Don't go, ( comes zoro's abrupt plea, eyes widening, suddenly seized by the thought of being told to go fuck himself, that he didn't mean it, that he didn't mean any of this, to stay the fuck away from him. his heart pounds in his chest, hyperaware of the fact that he's still inside of him even as his cock's softening, like his hips can't fathom the thought of letting even a drop of his cum out. desperately, a hand reaches out to cup his cheek, pad of his thumb ghosting over his lower lip before he leans in to kiss him, a slow, lingering thing before he murmurs so quietly against his mouth that it borders on a whisper: ) I — Sanji, please. Please stay. You know that I — you have to know.