Sensation

I wrote a second thingy cos, after I reread, if really doesn't seem like Sanji had a brain for all of this. So I gave him one here. Hope it's not...the worst thing, like, ever. Reeeealy hope it's not...sorry in advance anyway if it is.

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It wasn't that Sanji particularly wanted to take control of the situation. It was just that Zoro seemed too dimwitted to know how to...deliver properly unless Sanji told him.

Honestly, sometimes all he wanted was to be thrown down and ravaged by an animalistic neanderthal which had somehow taken over Zoro's body. But, alas...it had seemed not to be.

Until that night.

Sanji smirked to himself around his cigarette at the memory of that night. That night that Zoro had completely snapped and had held him down until he was crying through his orgasm.

He hadn't been able to walk the next day, and told Chopper that he'd torn a thigh muscle while fighting in order to get out of his usual duties.

Luffy had been pissed, but it was a small price to pay for the fuck of his life.

Images of large, rough, unforgiving hands pressing at him, doing much more than touching because, really, nothing that harsh could ever be called just a 'touch', flashed through his mind. He flicked away the glowing end of the finished smoke, lighting another straight after, mind still wandering on the memories of Zoro.

He had been thrown back against a wall, the rough edge of bricks digging painfully into his back as Zoro pressed upon him, biting down on his pulse, as if he were trying to draw blood. Sanji had yelped and told him to stop it, and Zoro had only bitten harder, thrusting two fingers into Sanji's mouth.

"Shut the fuck up, love-cook. I ain't gonna listen to your bitching tonight," was the low, deep growl in his ear, a tongue licking it's way up the shell and then across his jaw to his mouth.

Sanji squirmed a little at the memory of those thick fingers being ripped from his lips, only to be replaced with that wonderous tongue, and his breath hitched at having been allowed to suck it.

The back-alley had been private enough; anyone who passed was either too drunk or too distracted to notice them. And it had seemed a strangely appropriate location for Zoro's sudden transformation into complete psycho-sexual maniac.

Sanji held back a quiet moan as his body thought back to Zoro's leg rubbing up at him between his own, his arms pinned above his head as Zoro ran his free hand down Sanji's stomach, tugging the shirt loose and slipping it up to feel at bare skin, his mouth assaulting his own vigorously. And just as the hand, that glorious hand, was about to slip down and touch the place he really, really, needed to be touched...Zoro had flipped him around, pressing him face first into the wall, yanking his pants down regardless of the belt which grazed his hips painfully, and thrust the saliva slicked fingers in without a word.

He'd cried out, he remembered, and Zoro had silenced him with a harsh pull on his erection; enough to relieve a little tension, and sudden enough to warn him from doing anything stupid like shouting. After a few minutes, Zoro pulled his fingers away, slamming in so suddenly Sanji had bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, and tears welled in his eyes.

He remembered feeling hopeless, helpless, and he still couldn't understand why that, in turn, made him feel so turned on it almost hurt. It was distressing, overpowering, dangerous and completely perfect.

The tears had finally dropped when Zoro nailed his prostate head on, not even giving him a chance to get over the direct hit before slamming back in again, even harder, as if Sanji's desperate, muffled screams were what he lived for. As if he was punishing the cook for all the times he'd been submissive, complying with the demands made of him.

And Sanji almost choked as the image of his orgasm flashed back to his mind. Peeking at Zoro over his shoulder, eyes hazed and watery with unfallen tears. And the look he'd received; one of warning, deception, complete alpha-male, and undying nakamaship, rolled into a stangely intoxicating stare, right from underneath the black bandana almost covering the deep, dark, haunting eyes.

Zoro had made him wail through his all-too-sudden release, one hand gripping his hair, keeping their stares straight at each other, the other having a swordsmans grasp of Sanji's hip, digging strong fingers in so hard it had actually hurt, and not pleasure-hurt, but real pain. And Sanji couldn't hold it back anymore, completely lost in a cloud of Zoro and alcohol and uncontrolled back-alley sex. And he'd screamed; he hadn't cared about the sharp, stinging slap to his ass or the low growl as Zoro tugged his head back to smother his mouth with his own, drinking his voice like the rum he'd downed not a half hour ago.

It had been quick and fierce, and Sanji had never felt anything like it. He idly supposed that was what it felt like to be owned, utterly dominated to the point of almost begging for forgiveness of something he hadn't done.

He sighed, flicking his last smoke of the night to the sea where it was extinguished and swallowed immediately. It was Zoro's watch tonight, but Sanji just didn't have the energy to go and boss him around for a late night session. He sighed, walking back to the galley to lock up before Luffy woke up and wandered out in search for something to demolish.

Leaving the customary bottle of cheap booze outside the door, he locked it, taking one glance up to the crows nest before yawning and slouching off to the cabins.

Fuck it. He'd bother the marimo tomorrow...

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I had absolutely NO idea how to end this. And it shows. It shows so bad.

It shows worse than...a bad showy thing.

I'm not even expecting anything nice to be said. C'mon, flame me! I deserve it!

xxx