Safeword

Yah...I haven't uploaded here for about 30 yearz so I thought I'd stick this up 'cause I kinda like it. It's kinky :D hope y'all enjoy!

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Sanji was in absolute bliss.

Painful, tortured, over-exposed, mind-fuck bliss. But bliss none the less.

Zoro standing behind him, one harsh, unforgiving hand lashing down on his sensitized skin once again, the reddened flesh pulsing in agonizing protest to the treatment.

He couldn't see a damn thing; he hadn't been able to for what felt like an eternity now, though it had only been about an hour. Zoro's bandana was tied tightly over his eyes, blinding him, confusing him. He never knew where the next blow would come from.

And he couldn't even express his ecstasy that well either; not with his tie stuffed in his mouth, soaked with saliva, making him choke and gag and turning him on even further.

He vaguely wondered if Zoro knew exactly what he was doing to him...it was painfully obvious to himself.

And his thoughts were cut off again by that hit, better than cigarettes, better than anything. He groaned shamelessly, absently tugging at the knotted haramaki binding his wrists to the wall, his arms raised over his head as Zoro bent him over further, kicking his legs to spread them more.

He heard Zoro move away, ears straining to listen to what was happening, trusting the one sense that he fully trusted at this point. Sight, touch and taste had all pretty much gone to hell by now. He could only guess that smell would be departing soon enough once Zoro began to get a little more involved. For the moment he had only been playing a rather small, yet crucial, part, as Sanji's provider of punishment. And he always played it well.

"I should leave you here. Let someone find you," Zoro spoke from across the small stock room, and Sanji's sense of smell was suddenly accosted by cigarette smoke; faint, yet obvious in the dusty air. He groaned uselessly, biting the tie in his mouth which had been practically reduced to a rag by now. "Would you like that? I bet you would..."

Footsteps, loud, heavy, and hard made their way over to him, then stopped, he guessed, right behind him. A hand yanked the soaked tie from his mouth, throwing it into some forgotten corner, and the cigarette was placed before his lips. He could feel the tingle of the nicotine calling to him, the slow burn of the tip inches from his skin, the smoke curl around him, enveloping him, suffocating him so perfectly. He accepted it into his mouth, wrapping his lips and teeth around, and taking a deep drag, letting his lungs fill up with his favourite poison.

He'd been so wrapped up in his smoke that Zoro's ominous presence had faded slightly into the background, but never fully dissapeared. This was something Sanji had come to learn about the other man. He was always there, noticed or not.

A sharp slap, acute and more precise than before, reminded him that it was Zoro who was going to fuck him, not the cigarette, and he almost dropped it in surprise, a high whimper escaping his smokey throat. Zoro grunted behind him noncommitally, and the cigarette was unceremoniously plucked from his lips, crushed, extinguished, killed by one rough hand, and the loose tobacco was left to flutter to the floor, scattering itself about Sanji's feet.

He gasped at the sudden, unfair theiving of his main vice, but was soon pacified by two fingers thrusting between his now idle lips, digging around to coat themselves. He licked and sucked, knowing this was his new oral fixation, and he wouldn't get another cigarette unless he did it right.

His awareness was coming back to him now, now that Zoro was enveloping him again and he was the only thing there. No distractions. He felt Zoro's free hand run down his bare back, tracing the scratch marks made there earlier, which Sanji had had to beg to be stopped, which was when he'd been gagged. It ran down to caress the raw flesh of his buttock, the evidence of the harsh treatment still clear as day, skin burning, red as though on fire. The gentle touches now caused him to whine needily, moving back slightly for more.

The hand closed around his hip, using him as leverage as Zoro kneeled down behind him, face direct with his most intimate place. He shuddered a little, moaning softly around the oddly angled fingers still in his mouth. Then Zoro's hand was spreading him and a tongue was tracing around his entrance, and Sanji moaned again, loud, desperate, the sensation creating the best kind of twist in his loins, tugging at his stomach.

The fingers were withdrawn sharply, immediately dragged around to join Zoro's hot, wet, perfect tongue, and thrusted in without warning, both carving around inside him, stroking, searching, spreading, torturing. The tongue ran up his cleft to his lower back, sucking the skin lightly, before Zoro stood again, retracted both hands, and walked away again. Sanji really wished he could see now, the eternal black restricting his vision was becoming annoying...but then Zoro was back, and Sanji didn't have time to think any further when a...something was wrapped around his mouth again. Bigger this time, the soft fabric falling into his mouth and effectively shutting him up even though he'd been close to silent anyway. The scent made him realise it was his shirt, and that he was biting somewhere close to his collar because he could taste his shampoo faintly. What he presumed were the shirt sleeves were pulled taught, yanking his head back, causing a grunt of discomfort in his throat, and a fresh rush of blood to his arousal.

And, too suddenly, Zoro was inside him, keeping a strong hold on Sanji's reigns as he thrust in deep, pausing only a second before pulling back, then repeating the action. And Sanji would have screamed at the intrusion, and he'd tried to, but his throat was strained enough, and the gag muffled any scratched sound that made it through. A hand slapped down on his cheek again, lingering long enough to hold off a sting, creating a fresh ache which tingled through his skin, pumping his blood faster, speeding his breathing up until he was panting heavily into the cotton in his mouth.

Zoro tugged again, jerking his head back, simply to startle, and kept his slow, deep pace, the punishing hand resting easily on Sanji's back, keeping him down and obediantly in place.

When Zoro hit that spot inside, hard and paced, Sanji moaned loud enough to let it show through, regardless of the strain on his throat and the rapidly soaking material his teeth were clamped around. He had to let Zoro know what he was feeling, even just a little. Had to make the other man understand him a little more than he did already.

Zoro hit it again, whether on purpose or not was debatable. The third time was exact, precise and to the point. Sanji growled again, somehow reverting into an animalistic form of himself, craving only touch, needing the sensation, desperate for the exposure. He clamped himself down around Zoro, eyes squeezing shut uselessly behind the bandana. And Zoro grunted, somehow in surprise, and spanked him again, letting the sting set in before dragging blunt nails across sore skin, raking in the deep welts that would soon appear as evidence, marking his territory for himself, and to keep Sanji reminded of who he belonged to. Branding him.

And Sanji really screamed then, almost tearing his throat apart and not giving one shit because it felt too good to be owned this way. Zoro tugged harshly on his reigns again to compose him, though it did nothing to sate him, and did not quench his thirst for more punishment.

And, really, he didn't know what he was being punished for. He didn't think there really was a reason, and the word 'punishment' had taken on a new role of the title of their sex. He absolutely loved it.

Zoro groaned, low, deep and rumbling into Sanji through the air and through his body, hips rolling into him deeper still, taking his sweet time as he kept Sanji as uncomfortable as possible, hand falling down to press at the small of Sanji's back again, thumbing the very top of Sanji's cleft, fingers splayed across marked, milky skin. He didn't know how much more he could take. Everything was building up around him, inside him. The sharp changes between hurt and comfort was confusing him, wrapping him up and letting him fall down just as quick.

Then, just as abrupt as everything had been that night, Zoro's hand was wrapped around his erection, fingers strong, clamped, tight around him, pumping him harshly, working him slowly into madness, more so than before.

And his mouth was at Sanji's ear, breathing, panting, groaning. And Sanji had been wrong before, because his hearing was the next to fall to Zoro. All he had left was smell, which was hanging by a thread due to the heady scent of sex rapidly curling around him like his smoke should have been. Before he knew it, all his senses would belong to Zoro.

And with one last thrust, tug, pant, lick, pull, kick and, somehow, slap, Sanji couldn't hold back the cry that raked his raw throat, strained his muscles, brought tears to his blinded eyes, hurt his teeth from gringing them into his shirt. He spilled into Zoro's hand with every grace of a defeated man, offering the last thing he had over to him, and would have slumped in sheer exhaustion if it weren't for the haramaki and the shirt and the hand holding him up.

Zoro pounded into him a few more times, Sanji couldn't count how many, dragging himself along inside, warning yanks at the shirt when Sanji made noises of protest, discomfort at being fucked while so sensitive, his wounds coming back to him, now feeling not so good, feeling like real wounds. And he was close to passing out by the time Zoro was finished, breathing heavily, pulling out and stepping away to compose himself. Sanji simply waited like he always did, head bowed with fatigue, shoulders sagging despite the arms raised taught above him, knees faltering, falling together in vain attempts to stay standing any further.

He dropped the shirt from his teeth after a few moments, stretching his jaw after so much tension, flexing his fingers to regain some feeling there, trying to circulate his blood back up his arms.

Zoro removed the bandana last, rewrapping it back around his arm, regardless of the faint wetness from Sanji's tears. Without a word he helped him get dressed in the soiled shirt, Sanji restepping into his shoes shakily. Then delivered a kick to Zoro's side.

"Going easy on me? I didn't even have to use the damn safeword," he complained, fixing his belt with an irritated pout. Zoro only blinked sleepily.

"Whatever. You love it," he replied through a yawn, trudging towards the bolted door and letting himself out, holding it open with a foot as he waited for the other to catch up.

"Only when you do it right..." he grumbled, fishing around his pockets for a cigarette, then accepting the match offered by Zoro's hand.

"You love it," the swordsman repeated, rubbing his eye and slouching off towards the cabins. Sanji paused, glaring after him as he smoked.

"Asshole..."