The cook was a phenomenal dancer, no matter which way Zoro sliced it, and he knew better than anyone how many ways you could slice something. He couldn't even deny it to himself, much as the bastard annoyed him. He didn't even need a woman to back him up- though he usually had one- he completely owned the floor even without a partner. The girls waited their turn, and he'd tease them half to death stepping, clapping, winding on his own before he'd finally offer his arm to what the others must've seen as the luckiest girl in the club.
Worst of all, he did what he was best at. Whenever he had a girl on his arm, he was a pro at putting her in the spotlight despite the fact that he was doing all the work. He made those mediocre chicks look like fucking ballerinas, and you could tell he just loved doing it.
Zoro often wondered how that shitty cook got off so much on tearing himself to shreds to make a god damn woman that he didn't even know feel special.
It didn't matter as much here though- anyone who'd been watching for more than a moment could tell where the real grace came from. His perfect beat, the way his hips wound and rocked between kicks, jumps. The crazy shit he could pull off, like standing on one hand one second to be doing a back flip into a woman's arms the next.
More than anything it was that damn smile. That huge, ear-to-ear grin that showed plainly to everyone that he was having the time of his life. That look that made Zoro's heart beat up into his throat, made whatever was left in his chest tighten, flutter, and squirm. He wasn't showing off, he was having fun regardless of who was watching him. The fact that he looked good doing it was just a bonus.
His body twisted like a whirlpool, landed with a splash, swayed like a wave, smoother than any ocean, with his eyes to give it that soft blue color. His legs never seemed to end when he flung them around, somehow so controlled and far too in line with the sound to have not been rehearsed. But it wasn't, none of it was.
As the music got faster, the rest of the patrons gave him the floor. They stood back, clapping and cheering to the beat as he hit every note with a loud step to the floor or a subtle rotation of his hips. It was like the music was trying to outrun him, but he was keeping up flawlessly, and still with that damn smile on his face.
Zoro didn't give a thought to the fact that he was staring- nor that he was sweating, nor that his whole body had become tense. He's such a show off, that damn cook, but he was so god damn amazing. Zoro's heart was ready to beat out of his chest, he couldn't just stay put.
He set down his bottle of some over-priced booze on the bar counter, and slid off of the stool. He weaved through the crowd that surrounded the cook, not bothering with any 'excuse me' or 'coming through'… he wasn't sure his vocal cords were working anyway.
He made it to the center, and stepped past the line that the rest of the crowd seemed to have drawn for the talented blond, earning some confused looks from those around him. No one stopped him, though, not that anyone could've.
The music spiraled into something incredibly fast, to the point where the cook was just spinning to keep up with his arms spread out and a step-tap in between. It reached its peak, and so did he. He was spinning so damn fast, even he was worried he wasn't going to be able to stop when the music suddenly-
It ended with a sudden, loud, pounding beat, and he found himself suddenly stationary, but not of his own accord.
Zoro caught Sanji by the upper right arm and left hip just as the music hit its final note and the crowd roared with delight to destroy whatever silence that would've followed. It didn't matter, though, to Zoro their noise was very faint, only a pin drop compared to the sound of Sanji breathing.
Sanji was frozen, breathing heavy as he had in ages, and dizzy enough to fall over had it not been for the support behind him. The thick, hard body that he'd caught himself against just in time. His back flush with the strong, muscular torso, and the feeling of breath on the side of his neck. The scent of raw steel was familiar, and that put him in more shock and disbelief than anything.
Zoro released his arm, and placed both his hands on Sanji's narrow waist, rotating his thumbs in small circles through the thin fabric of his blue pin-striped shirt.
A slower beat started, and their movement fell into its beat. Zoro leaned forward, and breathed deeply against the cook's neck. "Dance." He whispered hoarsely, and not as a request, or an order, but clearly a challenge.
Sanji snickered to himself, wondering if the swordsman had really become jealous that his dancing skills were that good. Enough to try and one-up him, apparently?
Maybe it was the heat of the moment, or the heat of Zoro's body pressed so hard against his back. Sanji laced the fingers of his left hand with Zoro's on his lower stomach, and reached the other one up to tangle it with the back of the swordsman's hair.
He pushed his hips forward, and gave them a little rotating swing as the music drifted up and down. Zoro growled, because he liked- no- he fucking worshipped that movement but he wanted it against him, to feel it. Sanji was obviously trying to tease him by pulling away first, and Zoro wasn't having any of that shit. He took the cook roughly by the hips and yanked him back to grind, hard and slow against his ass, and perhaps by sheer chance, it fell right in line with the beat of the song.
The rest of the group had gone back to their own business, partnering up and re-populating the section that had been dedicated to the talented cook until they were just two in a million.
Sanji ground back, running his hands down Zoro's sides, then back up as he felt a tell-tale hardness prodding his ass through the fabric of their pants. He snickered, registering the impatience, and rolled back into it again, harder this time, tossing his head back over Zoro's shoulder to moan.
Zoro's reply was a grunt, and he attached his mouth to Sanji's neck, forcing himself snug as he could be against that ass. He wanted nothing more than to de-clothe the cook, shoved him onto the ground and take him right here, but he tried desperately to hold onto more sense than that.
His brain couldn't help chanting: this has never happened… how is this happening… why is it happening… why is he so responsive? How did I come to start this?
The damn dart-brow had always been nothing short of sex on legs but Zoro's expectations had always been low to non-existent. Now, on a whim of a chance, he was grinding back all the fastest and slowest, most subtle notes like he wanted it just as much… it had to be a dream.
Zoro's grip on Sanji's hips tightened at the thought, terrified of waking up and losing him.
"Let's get out of here." Sanji's voice was shaking, hoarse. Zoro's surprise level increased too much to keep his mouth shut at that.
"Cook…" He questioned.
"What? You arguing?" Sanji scowled at him, and it was that look, the way his stupid swirl of an eyebrow furrowed and he scowled like the damn bastard he was. That was what gave Zoro the certainty that this was not a dream.
"Hell no." Zoro's reply came out in a low growl, and he whipped around, completely detaching himself from Sanji's body aside from the strong grasp that held his wrist. Sanji allowed himself to be dragged through the crowd and out of the bar, not noticing the confused and disappointed eyes of the girls he'd earlier danced with.
Once outside, Zoro took about five steps to the edge of the building, turned the corner, and yanked Sanji's arm until his back hit the wall. In the same instant Zoro was on him again, rolling his hips into Sanji's, lips merely millimeters apart, coated in gasps, one after another.
Sanji shivered at the way Zoro's hardness rubbed against his behind the fabric. He pressed back, lifted one leg to wrap it around Zoro's waist, and slammed his mouth against Zoro's. Teeth clanged, tongues dueled and tangled like two pirate captains in a never ending battle for dominance over the other. But just a twinge of sweetness, and how much they knew they'd never be able to live without the thrill of trying to best the other. Knowing that if one of them won, it was all over, and both knowing how little the other truly wanted this.
The kiss slowed as Zoro pressed Sanji harder against the wall, movements became slow and drawn-out, but stronger, and harder as Zoro's hand slipped down the front of Sanji's pants.
It wrapped around his aching cock and Sanji had to tear his mouth away, panting as he thrust against the delicious feel of Zoro's thick, coarse hand wrapped around his base. He couldn't let him self go like this though, as much as he wanted to.
"Wait!" He breathed, and the word came out underneath. "Not here. Back at the ship." He panted, actions not matching his words at all.
"Fuck no." Zoro growled, rubbing hard against Sanji's front. "It's too damn far."
"You're not whipping it out in a public place, bastard!" Sanji managed to say between grinding teeth. "Ship, or I'm off limits." It took every once of will he had to grab Zoro's arm at the wrist and pull it out of his pants.
"What about the others?" Zoro buried his face in Sanji's neck and nibbled, still trying to excite Sanji out of his mind so he'd forget this 'ship' nonsense.
"They're at the festival, remember?" Sanji scoffed, and grabbed Zoro by the back of his hair to yank his neck back. Zoro jerked to try and escape his grasp, but to no avail. He snarled, and thrusted forward, but at this rate he was going to come before he even got his pants off, and then he wasn't sure he'd ever have the chance to fuck the cook. He had to back off now or it was over…
"Fine." He jerked away, and gathered himself a few feet away from where Sanji was still breathing heavily against the wall.
Walking back to the ship was awkward. The brisk cold air was enough to at least tame Zoro's hard on, but his mind was still just as aroused. He could hardly believe what was happening- he never thought this chance, or one like it would come. The damn cook did nothing but swoon over every woman he saw… how could he suddenly be so okay with getting screwed by a guy?
"Oi, shit swordsman." His voice made Zoro tense visibly. He watched the smoke rise from the corner of his eye as it rolled from Sanji's lips. He'd lit one up a few blocks back, which hadn't disappoint Zoro at all. He'd always imagined Sanji would taste like cigarettes, and he did.
"What exactly are we doing?"
Shit. Zoro knew this would happen. Sanji was finally clearing to realize what he was doing and he was going to back out. Damn it, he knew this ship thing was a bad idea.
"Why did you do that?" Sanji asked again when he didn't receive an answer. "Back there?"
Zoro scoffed, and rubbed at the back of his neck, wondering if there was anything he could say to make the damn cook change his mind. He wanted this so fucking badly. Words couldn't describe how much he did not want to spend the night jacking off in the storage room again instead.
"I guess… because you're a good dancer." Flattery, maybe?
Sanji snorted. "So in other words me dancing turned you on and you got all horny and tried to stick your dick in my ass. Through my pants, even."
Okay, so maybe Zoro had overdone the 'grinding' a little… but god, did that feel nice… he didn't know Sanji's thin body would be able to bury him so well like that…
"Fuck." Sanji sighed, and a cloud of smoke from his last drag came out with it. "I'm going back." He turned on his heel, and started back toward the bar. He wanted that shitty swordsman, and he knew tonight would have been fucking amazing if he'd allowed himself to lose his head like that. But he wanted more than just a one night stand because something he did got the swordsman hot and bothered. He clearly didn't have interest in anything but sex, and that would kill him in the morning.
How many times had he asked himself why he fell in love with such an asshole?
Zoro gawked, watching him walk away, running over in his mind how it ended up this way. Damn that cook, getting his hopes up and crushing them… he didn't even fucking apologize or anything! Zoro was standing here utterly and obsessively in love with the idiot and he couldn't even so much as say "sorry for leading you on." Isn't something like that supposed to be in the cards when this sort of shit goes down?
He wanted to grab Sanji by the arm, tell him how he felt, and beg him not to walk away. But then he'd look like even more of a fool… putting his actual feelings on the line like that after they'd clearly already been declined.
Sanji fumbled for another cigarette, shoulders hunched, barely able to keep his pace. He wanted to turn around and tell the swordsman like it was, the way he really felt, offer a compromise even. But all this time he'd known Zoro hated him… he'd merely gotten his hopes up over the horny bastard. Since when the hell was he that horny anyway? Last Sanji checked, asexual was much more a fitting adjective.
"Fuck." He'd dropped his lighter. "Damn it." He stopped, and bent down to pick it up. As he straightened again, he felt raindrops against his cheeks, then noticed them falling around him. God damn it, now it had to rain? Ludicrous tears welled up in his eyes, and he chose to ignore them. Maybe then they'd go the hell away and-
Arms slid around his waist from behind, and with them he was pulled back against Zoro's chest again. It wasn't sexual this time, though- this time it was a hug- a desperate, pleading hug. Or, perhaps just so Sanji hoped.
"Don't." Zoro said. "Don't just walk away on me." He said, and Sanji could feel his shaking lips against the back of his neck. "It's not like either of us will be able to pretend this never happened."
Sanji stayed silent, because all of his focus was spent on controlling himself. Sure, he wanted more than sex, but the sex was definitely part of it and this was really taking a toll on his self-control.
"Just give me a reason." Zoro said. "Tell me why you won't." His voice strained. "You can't deny that you wanted it… so why?" He bowed his head so the top pressed against Sanji's upper back.
"Bastard." Sanji managed to cough out, and the moment he did, Zoro raised his head and blinked, because it almost sounded like… "I can't just bend over and let you fuck me and then walk away." …Sanji was crying? "Stupid fuckhead." He whispered, managing to hide the sobs enough so that Zoro couldn't be sure he was either way.
Zoro was nothing but confused by the insults and cryptic sentences. Why couldn't Sanji just let it in? Because he was straight? Because of some sort of dignity? Because he wouldn't be able to face Nami and Robin in the morning?
Zoro took a deep breath. "Just one night." He asked, pressing his head hard against the cook's back, because he knew how pathetic he was being. "I want you so fucking bad- all of you- but if I can't have that then just give me tonight. No one else has to know."
"ONE NIGHT!" Sanji broke free of him, whipped around, and shouted with tear-bruised eyes. "Don't fuck with my head! Don't pull that kind of shit… one night will just make it worse! Don't you understand you shit head? It might be just sex for you but I-," He stopped there, realizing what he was about to say. His shoulders dropped, his head hung, and he shook it back and fourth. "Fuck it." He turned, and started to walk away.
Zoro had to take this in, think it through for a moment. Was Sanji just about to say…? What else could he have been saying? For him it wasn't just sex? That meant…
His look of sheer surprise slowly morphed into a sly grin. "Idiot." He said, and Sanji stopped in his tracks, fed up with the swordsman's heartless bullshit. An ominous thunder clashed as he raised his head and started to turn around, mind and body said to kill… or at least horribly maim. "I'm the one who loves you." Zoro said, his voice quiet, completely calm. "Not the other way around."
Sanji was only half-turned, but his entire being had been frozen at those words. He stood perfectly still for a few moments, felt nothing but the discomfort of saliva building up in his dry mouth, until finally, he swallowed. "Oh." He said, and it seemed like all the moisture moved to his eyes, because in just a moment the tears would be pouring.
But the rain was now too, so Zoro would never know.
Sunny wasn't going to work. The rain would most definitely send the other seven running back to the ship- hell, they were possibly already there, and neither Zoro nor Sanji were going to risk that. Getting there, having to hold it in, having to wait until they were finally alone. It was an exaggeration, sure, but neither felt as if he could survive it.
A hotel room it was—so what if it was the last of Zoro's booze money, he'd one-upped Sanji by being the one to pay for the room. That's what the man does. Sanji no doubt caught it, but he was apparently broke for a twist and had no say in the matter.
The dripping-wet rain-soaked walk up to the room was silent, and though no one watching the pair could tell, tense as tense gets. Both were just waiting for the other to shove him up against the wall in the stair well and take care of it right there, but all though they both desired this to happen on the fault of the other, neither would take the action because somewhere inside, they wanted to do this right. Unfortunately, that emotion may have developed into something much more competitive by the time they made it up the stairs.
When they walked into the room, there was no one jumping the other the moment the door clicked shut, no passionate eye-to-eye stare accompanied by the removal of clothes. Instead, they both just stood there dripping, because… who was going to make the first move?
On one hand, doing so was bold, could be seen as courageous. On the other, it was weak, and maybe just a tad too flattering for either of their tastes, because whoever caved first was the one who could resist the other less.
"Wish I had a change of clothes." Zoro mumbled, at it was the first sound, or movement since they entered.
"Right?" Sanji agreed, pulling out a wet, but just dry enough to light up cigarette to calm his nerves.
Zoro scoffed, because that wasn't fair.
"The fuck was that for, marimo?" Sanji apparently heard it.
"Nothing." He glared. "Just your sick habits." He was pouting. Of course he didn't mean that, there was no way in hell he'd have Sanji any other way. He wanted it, cigarette smell, taste, and all- everything just as he'd imagined. Everything that was Sanji, no matter what it was.
"Oh?" Sanji snorted. "At my daily activities consist of more than sleeping, drinking, and lifting enormously large masses to increase my muscle-headedness."
"Smoking, making shitty food, and getting hard-ons over Nami?" Zoro offered.
"My food is not shitty and you know it! And don't talk about Nami that way!" Sanji shouted, and Zoro wasn't expecting it to make him feel light-headed. No- not just light-headed, he melted. The cook had such a stupid, overdone, not to mention unattractive face when he was pissed. But every inch of it was Sanji, and everything he did was something that Zoro ached for.
Throwing the petty idiocy that was their every day lives to the wind, Zoro closed the distance, and kissed Sanji on his snarling mouth.
"W-wha?" Sanji blinked at the action, couldn't respond, sure as hell not expecting that retort.
"I'd rather kiss these at the moment." Zoro lifted a hand, and pressed his two first fingers against Sanji's lips.
Sanji scowled again. Was he being told to shut up in some Zoro-version sweetheart language? "What the fuck does that mean, bas-," He was cut off when Zoro scooped him up in his arms, and shoved his tongue in Sanji's open mouth. Sanji rolled his eyes at first, he couldn't help it, and then shut them gently to respond.
"It means…" Zoro detached his mouth from Sanji's to reattach it to his neck as he started ripping at the cook's clothes, one piece at a time. "…Let's not fight…" his mouth trailed down Sanji's now bare chest, tongue flicked against his nipple, and Sanji held on tight to his shoulders as Zoro continued down onto his knees. "…Let's fuck." He finished, and Sanji's eyes rolled back in his head as the warmth wrapped around him.
"We'll fight later." Sanji gasped out between breaths, and he could have sworn Zoro hummed around him in agreement.
AN- Can I get a round of applause please? My first PWP and the amount of actual intercourse included in detail is ZERO. Whooooo go me!
Okay, I don't know if this is really PWP 'cause… I don't know, do those have character interaction? Whatever, I think it was, because there was no real plot or means for relationship development like most of my stories. Just horny guys.
This was written on a total whim. Whimsical whimsy and I dunno wtf it is. I think part of it came from the urge to describe Sanji dancing after reading The Pirate Ship Noah again… where he just dances all sexily. Yeah, I kind of stole the imagery I was trying to create from that, so give the amazing Yamato any credit you feel is deserved there if I did it any justice.
Anyway, yeah… this is short… with sex, and… well, yeah. That's about it. My curse of inability to write PWP has been broken.