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“ And take Zoro with you! ”
Of course, the “ Yes Nami-swaaan~!” had been out of his mouth before the rest of his brain could catch up. He’d stood there with a wide smile plastered on his face, blind with love, as the ridiculous swordsman strolled yawning down the gangplank. Nami had clearly woken him from a nap, he was still blinking the sleep from his eyes.
They’d dropped anchor at a deserted beach surrounded by a thick jungle. Sanji, and now apparently Zoro, had been charged with making their way through the trees towards the nearby town that Nami swore existed.
Sanji desperately needed to re-stock the kitchen. The rest of the crew seemed content to wait on the admittedly picturesque beach, Luffy and Usopp pelting one another with coconuts and racing up and down the sand. As much as Sanji wanted to stay and serve cocktails to Nami and Robin as they lounged in the sun, the groceries wouldn’t buy themselves, and he couldn’t trust anyone else with the task.
Why his beautiful Nami had thought that he’d need the stupid moss-head to escort him, he wasn’t quite sure.
That was about an hour ago. Now, he was dirty and sweaty as they trekked through the thick jungle, his jacket long having been thrown carefully over his arm. Removing the layer helped with the heat, but the tradeoff was letting sharp branches and twigs scratch against his arms, leaving faint red trails in their wake. Zoro forges ahead of him, slicing the foliage from the overgrown path.
He pulls the folded map Nami had given him out of his pocket, his heart fluttering a little at her perfect handwriting. It’s hard to read as he walks, he needs to keep one eye on the forest floor and one eye on the Marimo to make sure he doesn’t wander off and disappear into the trees. He glances down at the map once more, and runs right into Zoro’s back.
“What the hell, idiot?!” He yells, whacking him in the back of the head with the rolled up map. “Why’d you stop like that?”
Zoro ignores the paper assault, “Weird plant up ahead.”
“What weird plant?” Sanji asks, peering around Zoro’s shoulder.
There is indeed a weird plant sprawling across the path, thick green tendrils trailing from lurid pink flowers. Sanji’s never seen anything like it before, but it looked as at home as about anything else in the jungle.
“Well, cut it away and we can keep going.”
“I don’t know…” Zoro mumbles, his hand resting on the hilts of his swords, “It looks a little… alive.”
“All plants are alive, dumbass.”
“Fuck you, shitty cook!”
“Fuck you , cut the plant!”
“Fine,” Zoro rolls his eyes, unsheathing a sword, “I’ll even save a flower you can wear in your hair.”
Sanji just scoffs, tucking the map away into his jacket and fishing out a cigarette. “Just make it quick, Marimo.”
He flicks his lighter open as Zoro advances, raising his katana. He inhales as he lights up, watching Zoro bring wado around in a smooth arc, neatly beheading the flowers and separating the vines in one clean stroke. There’s a beat of silence as the flowers drift to the forest floor, the tendrils slumping limply to the ground. Zoro clicks wado back where it belongs and the world explodes.
Huge yellow clouds burst from the cut ends of the plants, immediately obscuring their vision and coating the insides of their mouths. Sanji spits out his cigarette, blind and coughing. He can hear Zoro nearby, also hacking up a lung.
A dark shape materializes out of the cloud: Zoro, bent double with his hands on his knees. Sanji gropes for him, grasping a fistful of the swordsman’s shirt and yanking him forwards, stumbling over the undergrowth. He can feel Zoro’s hand grip his arm.
They sprint away through the foliage, holding each other's forearms for balance and (in Zoro’s case) guidance.
After what feels like an eternity of running and tripping through the woods, the air clears enough to take a full breath. Sanji slows, sucking in great gasps of fresh air. Yanking his arm back from Zoro, he takes stock of their situation. The air is clean, but they’re both still covered with a thin coating of the yellow dust.
He shakes his hair out and a small cloud of pollen drifts down, making him sneeze.
“Ugh-” He looks over to Zoro, who is doing the same.
“What the fuck was that?” The swordsman asks, wiping a hand down his arm and examining his yellow palm.
“I don’t know, some kind of self defence mechanism. Chopper or Robin would probably know more.”
Zoro just grunts, aggressively flapping his shirt to get the pollen off. Aching for a smoke, Sanji realizes he’s no longer holding his jacket. He casts frantically around the clearing, but no luck. He must have dropped during their flight from the plant. Furious, he viciously kicks at a lump of earth, spraying dirt in a wide semi-circle in front of him. Zoro snorts and continues trying to wipe the rest of the dust from his arms.
“Oi,” Zoro says, “Let’s just try to get to town, maybe we can find somewhere to get this stuff off.”
“That may be the smartest idea you’ve ever had,” Sanji mutters, patting through his pockets for the map. He freezes, realising it was with the cigarettes. In his jacket pocket. Gone .
“Shit!” He curses, kicking the dirt again, “Shit shit shit shit! ”
“What now, cook? Lose the stupid map?” Sanji just glares at him through a sweaty curtain of hair, jaw clenched. Zoro uncrosses his arms, eyebrows raising. “You didn ’ t.” He says, voice flat with anger.
“Whatever! You’re the one who got us into this situation in the first place!”
“How the hell does that work!?”
“ You cut the stupid plant and almost suffocated us!
“ Because you told me to, bastard!”
“ Oh so the one fucking time you decide to follow orders-”
“ Who’s giving me orders , asshole!?”
“Fucking moss for brains-”
“Shitty fuckin’ cook-”
They shove back and forth, hands fisted in the front of each other’s shirts. They’re close, too close to get in any kind of meaningful strike. Sanji zeros in on Zoro’s face, inches from his own. The swordsman’s eyes are narrowed in anger, and there’s a gentle spattering of bright yellow across the tanned bridge of his nose.
For some reason, the contrasting colours make his heart pound, and he is suddenly very aware of the heat coming off of Zoro’s body.
What the hell?
“Get off, idiot,” he snarls, shoving Zoro back far enough to get his leg up for a kick to the chest. Zoro takes it, stumbling back a little but saying nothing. He’s breathing hard, perhaps a little harder than the situation necessarily warrants. They glare at one another in silence, shoulders heaving.
“Look,” Sanji huffs, “We can’t stay here. Let’s just… pick a direction and walk. We shouldn’t be too far from the town, maybe we can find the trail again.”
“ Great idea .”
Without another word Sanji gestures him onwards and they set off into the jungle, keeping their eyes peeled for bright pink flowers.
They don’t find the trail. They don’t find the trail, and it only seems to be getting hotter.
Sanji scrubs a hand over his face, gathering sweat and flicking his fingers to send the droplets spattering against the leaves. They hadn’t been able to clean all the pollen from their skin, and the sweat had mixed with the residual yellow powder to form an unpleasant, sweet smelling paste. Sanji can feel his skin tingling where the paste gathers, but the sensation is faint enough that he doesn’t feel like bothering the shitty swordsman with it.
The heat, on the other hand… He feels almost feverish, the air sitting on his skin like a hot, wet blanket. Growling with frustration he tugs at his tie, loosening it to try and entice a breeze against his sweaty chest.
He wasn’t someone who took his shirt completely off in the heat, a gentleman would never sink to such boorish depths. But, he was sorely tempted.
Zoro, predictably, had no such reservations. He’d stripped his shirt off with no shame, tying it to his sword belt. Sanji was almost glad, staring at the wet spot running up the swordsman’s back - turning the white fabric almost transparent - had been making him nauseous.
He glares again at the tanned flesh, shining with sweat, muscles moving rhythmically as Zoro swipes wado cautiously through the foliage. Sanji’s skin tingles again, and a wave of heat rolls up his body. He sways a little, setting a hand against a nearby tree trunk to steady himself before the Marimo can notice and make fun. Zoro also stops, letting the tip of his katana rest against the ground. He lists a little to the side, and Sanji thinks he’s still breathing too hard.
“Hey-” Sanji says to his bare back, straightening up, “we need to keep moving.”
Zoro just nods in agreement, a single lethargic bob of his head. He doesn’t turn around. Sanji steps forwards and grabs a hold of his elbow, shaking his arm a little.
“ Hey . Marimo. Are you still with me?”
Blinking slowly, Zoro raises his head to meet his eyes. “I think I’m allergic to that plant…” he mutters, his teeth clenched.
“Ah shit ,” Sanji hisses, “You got an entire face-full, huh? What the hell…” Fervently wishing Chopper had accompanied them, Sanji leans into Zoro’s space to examine his face, not entirely sure what he’s looking for.
A faint flush paints Zoro’s cheekbones, and his pupils are so dilated they’re turning his irises almost completely black. To Sanji’s surprise Zoro inhales a sharp little gasp and leans back before he can see anything more, tugging his arm away. He’s still off balance, tripping a little as he puts distance between them.
“What’s wrong with your eyes, Cook?” He snaps, and it sounds like a deflection.
“The hell do you mean? You’re the one stumbling like a blind man-”
“No- they look weird. All black.”
Sanji hesitates then. It must be affecting both of them, which meant it probably wasn’t an allergy.
“Do you feel anything else?” He asks, his sudden urgent tone making the swordsman raise an eyebrow.
“Just… hot. Kinda tingly. Almost like I’m-” Zoro cuts himself off, clenching his jaw and turning away. The blush on his face darkens.
“Whatever” Sanji mutters, “let’s just- just keep moving.”
“ Fine .”
They walk for another 10 minutes before Sanji encounters a new problem. Stumbling along behind the swordsman, he gradually becomes more and more aware of the way Zoro smells . The scent balloons out behind him like a cape, sweaty and faintly spiced, with an undercurrent of the oil he uses on his swords every day.
He smells good .
It’s only a minute or two after that, before he can even finish processing that he’s enjoying the way that idiot smells (he tries to tell himself it’s nothing but the nicotine withdrawal, he doesn’t have his cigarettes, that’s all…), that he runs into a second, much much worse problem.
He’s hard.
Aching, sensitive, hard .
Every step becomes torture, pressing his erect length against the seam of his pants, and for the first time in his life he questions the fashion sensibility of such tight trousers. He can only be grateful that he’s walking behind the Marimo, that he can’t see what’s going on below his belt. He should be grateful for this, but some brand new, sick little part of him almost wants Zoro to see, wants the swordsman to turn around and grab-
That’s enough of that . Sanji clenches his teeth together until his jaw aches, and pushes the traitorous little thought back down where it belongs. He focuses on keeping his footing against the forest floor.
He should duck into the trees, tell the moss-head he needs to take a leak, and take care of himself off in the bushes beyond his reluctant companion’s hearing. However, he can’t seem to rip himself away, the tingling of his skin mingling with the heady bloodlessness of his brain, heightening the effect the scent of Zoro’s skin is having on him. He inhales deeply through his nose, the intoxicating smell coating his insides. His dick twitches in his tight pants and he closes his eyes for a moment at the sensation.
A root rises from the leaf litter directly in their path. Zoro steps deftly over top of it but Sanji, with his eyes still half lidded, hooks the tip of his leather shoe on the bark and sends himself sprawling into Zoro.
“ Hey! ” Zoro trips forwards, twisting to shove Sanji away from him, his movements slow and clumsy. Sanji stumbles back, flailing his arms to keep his balance. He ends up with his back pressed against a jungle tree, chest heaving.
“Watch where you’re going!” Zoro snarls at him. “Idiot shit-cook…” He mumbles as he turns away again.
Sanji sees red. The heat and confusing feelings building inside him finally bubble over, and he launches himself off the tree, bringing one leg up and around, aiming for the back of Zoro’s stupid green head.
The heat makes him slow, his attack telegraphed a mile away. Even so, Zoro barely gets his arm up in time for a block, and his stance isn’t solid enough to keep him from losing his balance. He whips around, feet scrambling for purchase.
“The hell is wrong with you?” Sanji yells, lining up for a second kick. He can’t think straight.
“The hell is wrong with you ?” Zoro snaps back at him. He reaches out and grasps Sanji’s collar, hauling him forwards. They’re almost nose to nose now. Sanji’s distracted by the heat radiating off of Zoro’s body, he feels like he’s cooking inside his clothes. His hands come up and rest on Zoro’s biceps. The hardness between his legs presses against Zoro’s thigh and he doesn’t care, can’t care, because he swears he feels an answering hardness pressed into his own leg.
Zoro wrinkles his nose at him. His eyes are dark, and he sways where he stands. Leaning forwards and inhaling deeply, he murmurs “You smell, cook.”
It could have gone very differently. In many other universes it does: Sanji shoves him away, kicks him in the side of the head (properly, this time) and finds his own way to the town, leaving the stupid swordsman to deal with his own shitty concussion.
In this universe, however, Zoro breaks their eye contact for just a moment, his half-lidded eyes flicking down to Sanji’s lips and then back up. His own mouth lifts in a faint sneer, a challenge.
Sanji breaks. With a snarl he yanks Zoro forwards, crashing their lips together. At any second he expects to feel a sword entering his stomach and bursting through his back, but to his relieved surprise Zoro grips his shirt and returns the kiss, twisting his fingers into the fabric like he’s trying to save himself from drowning.
They kiss like they fight, angry lips and tongues and teeth, always competing. Sanji draws his hand up the side of Zoro’s face to grip his hair, fingers tangling in the short green strands. He wrenches the swordsman’s head to the side and leans in to run his lips over the three dangling earrings, sucking the earlobe into his mouth and feeling the metal click against his teeth.
He’s rewarded with a low, desperate moan. The heat in his stomach flares at the noise, making his head spin.
“Fucking shit-” Zoro grinds out, punctating his curse by twisting them both to slam Sanji into the tree so hard that his head rocks back. Before Sanji can shout at him Zoro tightens his fists into Sanji’s shirt and wrenches his hands apart, ripping the garment open and sending expensive buttons raining down into the grass. He shivers as his sweat-slick chest is exposed to the open air, though he’s too pissed to truly enjoy the sensation.
“ What the hell! Next time take it off normally, dickhead!”
“Mm, takes too long…” Zoro mumbles against the skin of his throat, and Sanji privately agrees as Zoro’s hands slip under the fabric and wrap around his sides, fingers running up and down his ribs. He gasps into the swordsman’s ear as Zoro’s thumb swipes over his nipple, the pink bud stiffening despite the warm air.
Clutching his hands at the back of Zoro’s neck he pulls him forwards, rolling his hips in the same movement and making them both moan at the contact. Foreheads pressed together they breathe one another’s air, lips barely touching. Zoro has crowded in close, slotting their thighs together and rutting shallowly against Sanji. The slow friction is intoxicating, despite the layers separating them. Sanji mouths kisses along Zoro’s jaw, their lips meeting again.
“I think we’ve been poisoned,” he murmurs against him, lightly biting Zoro’s bottom lip.
“Don’t care,” Zoro presses him against the tree, his broad shoulders caging him in, “Do you?”
Sanji finds he doesn’t.
Instead, he hooks his foot behind Zoro’s ankle and uses the leverage to flip them around again, shoving Zoro’s bare back into the rough bark.
“Hey- Oh…!”
Sanji slips his hands under the haramaki, under his black pants, and grasps his cock. Zoro’s head tips back against the tree, exposing his throat. The apple of his throat bobs as he swallows, hard, and Sanji leans in to sink his teeth into that tantalising expanse of flesh. At the same moment he strokes him, hot and insistent, twisting his wrist right at the head.
The noise Zoro makes is exquisite, a guttural moan escaping his lips as he bucks his hips forwards and grabs the loose fabric of Sanji’s open shirt. Sanji mouths along the column of his throat, using his hands and mouth to draw out moan after moan from the swordsman.
“Oh fuck come on- please-… ” Zoro can’t seem to figure out what to do with his hands, ghosting them up Sanji’s side one moment and carding them through his blond hair the next.
Sanji bares his teeth, grinding his hips down against Zoro’s thigh, chasing relief. He pulls his hands from Zoro’s pants and, ignoring Zoro’s groan of protest, feverishly fumbles with his own belt.
He gets it open and pushes down on Zoro’s shoulders, rough but not unkind. Zoro takes the hint immediately, sliding down the rough bark and sinking to his knees, trapped between the tree and Sanji.
The cook fishes his cock out of his pants and Zoro immediately opens his mouth, tongue lolling and eyes glazed.
Sanji almost cums right there.
“ Fuck… ” he grinds out, leaning over Zoro with one hand braced against the tree. He guides his member forwards, sliding the tip against Zoro’s waiting tongue. “ That’s it, that’s it… stay still for me… ”
Zoro does, only moving to place his hands on Sanji’s thighs.
Sanji sinks into his mouth, whimpering at the heat and pressure. Zoro coughs and twitches a couple times, but his determined expression remains as he pushes his head inexorably forwards. Sanji thumps his fist against the bark as he bottoms out, feeling the tip of his cock bump against the back of the swordsman’s throat. There’s a moment of stillness as their eyes meet, tears pricking the corner of Zoro’s.
Then the Marimo is bobbing his head, slowly at first, until he can find a rhythm. Sanji sees stars. His feelings are heightened and his flesh burns, especially in the areas where the yellow paste gathers on his skin.
Zoro’s gaze never leaves his face, though Sanji loses sight of him when he’s forced to close his eyes as the marimo hollows his cheeks and slides back, releasing the tip of his cock with an obscene pop .
Sanji seizes the green hair in front of him in his fist, about to demand he keep going, when the hands on his thighs suddenly tense. All at once his legs are jerked out from underneath him and he’s flat on his back in the dirt.
“ Dumbass! ” He snarls, trying to push himself up onto his elbows. Zoro doesn’t let him, crawling predatorily over his body and pressing him down into the dirt with a searing kiss. They roll their hips together, too far gone for the moment to do anything more complicated.
“Needed to touch you…” Zoro whispers against his lips, grinding his clothed cock down against Sanji’s exposed flesh.
“Yeah, yeah,” Sanji fumbles with Zoro’s clothes. It’s hard, they’re pressed so close together and he can’t bear to put any space between them. The air is hot and heavy with the sound of their moaning, and it’s hard to get the swordsman’s pants open while he’s kissing him.
Finally though, Zoro’s member is free, and they both hiss at the intensified contact. Sanji wraps his fist loosely around them both, using the last shreds of his self control to keep his pace slow.
“ God- ” Zoro’s shaking over top of him, sliding down to press his face into Sanji’s bare neck. He bites and sucks, and something in the back of Sanji’s mind throws up a warning that he’s going to have hickeys later, lots of them, but it’s easy enough to ignore. “ I want…” Zoro continues, right into Sanji’s ear, “ I wanna fuck you so bad… ”
Sanji’s face and skin light up, he’s more mortified and turned on than he’s ever been in his life. For a moment his vision whites out as the blood rushes to his cock and all he can see in his mind’s eye is Zoro flipping him over and sinking inside of him, chest pressed to his back, hand around his throat as he pounds him into the forest floor.
An embarrassing noise escapes his mouth, and he tries to cover it with his free hand.
“We can’t,” he says, dragging his hand away to slide it down over the tanned muscles of the swordsman’s back. “It’s- I’m-”
“Yeah, yeah I know,” Zoro kisses him again, hard enough to leave them both gasping, “We don’t have the stuff for it right now, anyway.”
Sanji has only a moment to wonder at the fact that the idiot on top of him even knows what kind of stuff is required for this, before Zoro’s hand is closing over his own and speeding up the pace over their heated flesh.
“ Ohhh fuck- ” His voice is an embarrassing whine, and he tilts his head back against the grass, exposing his throat. He can hear Zoro choke back a moan at the sight. “What… what would you do if we could-”
Zoro laughs, strained and desperate. “I dunno, I’ve never been good at this talking dirty shit, just wanna- hhah - just wanna make you scream…”
“ Yeah? ”
“Yeah, fuck, you’d feel so damn good-”
“ Ahn- fuck me-”
“I’d fuck you stupid, hahh, ‘til you couldn’t even walk-”
Sanji can’t find his voice. Zoro’s hands have sped up almost impossibly fast, and it’s all he can do to even stay conscious. The swordsman’s filthy words write themselves over and over on the inside of his brain, and he desperately tries to commit each to memory. He can feel his orgasm rapidly approaching, and he clutches Zoro’s muscular shoulders like a lifeline.
Zoro drops his forehead to Sanji’s, shoulders shaking. “I can’t - Cook- I’m gonna, damn I wanna be inside you-”
His words and his hands are all too much for him, and Sanji sails over the edge. He pulls Zoro to him, digging his fingers into tanned flesh as he rides out wave after wave, hips bucking and shaking. Zoro’s chest is painted white, and his hands are still moving .
Sanji arches his back off the jungle floor, stifling a wail as his over-stimulated flesh is stroked.
It suddenly stops and he moans with relief, hardly noticing as Zoro crawls up his body, pinning his shoulders to the ground with his knees. He blinks up, trying to see the swordsman silhouetted against the afternoon sky.
Zoro fists one hand in his blond hair, not ungently, and pulls his face up and forwards towards his waiting cock. With his other he jerks himself off, quick and decisive, sliding the tip along Sanji’s bottom lip.
Sanji lets his mouth fall open. “ Please- ”
Zoro’s face crumples and he folds in on himself, hand speeding up and fist tightening in Sanji’s hair. Hot white ropes are painted across Sanji’s face, and he squeezes one eye closed to avoid a nasty accident.
There’s another moment of stillness, the only sounds in the clearing being each other's breathing. Zoro rolls off of him, laying spreadeagle in the grass. Sanji can feel the heat draining away from his limbs, the frantic desperation likewise. It’s replaced with shame, and not a small amount of mortifying curiosity.
Sanji pushes a hand through his sweaty hair, trying to keep his voice casual. “Did you mean it?”
“ Hah? ” Zoro snaps, sounding like he was about to drift off.
“You know what I mean, idiot.” Sanji pushes himself to a sitting position, eyeing the state of his clothes.
“Yeah sure,” Zoro yawns, “Whatever. Too bad you weren’t more prepared.”
“ What? ”
“I’ll fuck you if you prepare better next time.”
Sanji splutters, face red with rage. “ Wh- that’s not what I- fuck off!”
“ Yeah, yeah.” Zoro gets slowly to his feet, holding out a hand to haul Sanji to a standing position. “C’mon, which way back to the ship?”
An hour or so later they stumble out of the woods, back on the beach. By pure luck Sanji had chanced upon his jacket, discarded on the jungle floor. He’d buttoned it the best he could over his ruined shirt, hoping to hide the damage. Better still, the cigarettes were safe in the pocket (if a little crumpled) and he’d been smoking like a chimney the whole way back, trying to get his nerves in order.
The shame and mortification had fully set in by this point, and he had decided that the best course of action would be to pretend this hadn’t happened. They were poisoned by some weird plant, they weren’t in control of themselves, that was all. No need to have a crisis of identity over it. Zoro seemed to be of the same mind, if his casual stroll was anything to judge by.
They approach the ship, and Sanji decides that however he decides to justify this to himself, no one else could ever know.
“Say nothing! ” He hisses through his teeth, snarling at the swordsman and ashing his latest cigarette into the sand.
“Okay, damn.” Zoro yawns, stretching his arms over his head. “I need to go get some training in, anyway.”
“Sanji!” His heart flutters as he hears an angelic voice calling to him from across the beach. Nami is running towards them, waving. “Zoro! Why are you back so early, where are the groceries?” She pulls up short. “What the hell happened to your neck, Sanji?”
Sanji pales, final crumpled cigarette falling from nerveless fingers. “It’s… well, Zoro-”
Zoro slaps him on the back. “Eh, I’m not allowed to say anything, remember? Good luck, Cook.”
And he strolls away, leaving Sanji standing in front of an increasingly giddy Nami.
“ Next time I hope we land on an island with a murder-plant instead,” Sanji seethes inside his mind as he desperately tries to dodge Nami’s questions and escape back to his kitchen.
“Stupid moss head.”