moe81 | Random fic~~

Title: Memory of Distraction

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Zoro/Sanji

Summary: Sometimes the line between dreams and reality is blurred.
A/N: As I was writing this, I was sharing it with sybile. *spazzes* She drew me art. Sanji~~

Dead bodies and a bloody river in the halls signalled Zoro’s descent into hell. Spurred on by the rage of messing with his nakama – even he had to admit the shit-cook was that much – and steadfastly refusing to succumb to any prayer that he was safe. The bastard had better be alive or he was going to kill him.

How the idiot managed to get himself kidnapped in the first place was a mystery. Although if there was a woman involved, that might explain a lot. That particular thought only served to make him angrier. He was going to wring the damn curly-brow’s neck for subjecting him to searching dark, musty dungeons and that statue was definitely not the same one that he had passed just a moment ago.

Everything looked the damn same and it wasn’t as if anyone had broadcasted where the moron was supposed to be other than behind a door… that had no distinguishing marks and no big assed sign pointing to it and screaming “SHIT-COOK THIS WAY”. Frustration ran through his veins and he swore he wasn’t going to do this but there didn’t seem to be any other choice. Dammit! Stupid asshole was being a pain in his ass and he wasn’t even in the damn vicinity to take it out on.

Resigning himself to his fate, Zoro slowed and stopped in the middle of a hallway cross section, and closed his eyes. With darkness pressing in on him from every direction, he drew Wadou and held her loosely in his hand. It wasn’t really necessary but having a solid anchor did help him to reach out a little further.

He mentally stretched out, the living touch of old brick a phantom against his fingertips; dip, crack, smooth, chipped mortar. Over roughened-wood doors, behind which stood empty rooms, bereft of human presence for a long time. Two… three… five… eight… Calm breathing as one after another, he passed dead space.

He stilled as the smell of the ocean and ever-so-faint cigarettes touched him. There. End of the hallway to the right; past the barrier and the chilled air gave way to heat. At least the idiot was still living. His mind touched Sanji’s and the feedback was instantaneous. Bastard was still strong as all fuck too.

There was no fear but the lack of pain was a little worrying and the simmering lust was just confusing. Wasn’t he supposed to have been tortured? Zoro pushed the thoughts aside and let his senses guide his feet in the right direction.

With his arm extended and blindly reaching out, his hand contacted with cold metal. A turn of the doorknob found it locked. Not that it really made a difference to him. It meant that he could give over to random destruction of property and that made him pretty damn happy. He gave an enthusiastic grunt and sliced cleanly through the wood. Dropping from its now useless hinges, Zoro stared blankly into the room and at the sight laid out in front him.

~~~~~

Zoro lifted his weights, the continued count of his reps making him feel accomplished.

…1123…1124…1125…

Staring at the horizon, he lulled his breathing into a slow, steady rhythm and emptied his mind of all distractions. It was with that empty mind that the images were pulled, unbidden, from his memory.

Moonlight slicing over pale flesh, shadows dipping into exposed curves, bound to the ceiling by chains, body twisting and face pinched tight.

Zoro adjusted his haramaki to cover the rather obvious bulge in his pants and continued with his count.

Sweat trailed over muscle, intermingling with drops of blood, catching at the dark waistband. Feet scraped the floor and arms strained to keep metal from digging further into slender wrists. Lips parted with heavy breathing and hitched gasps echoed in the room.

Zoro swallowed and shifted his stance, flinching when material rubbed over his skin. He almost regretted not wearing anything underneath. Almost.

Pants riding low on narrow hips, belt ends dangling free to sway in time with the lean body. Gold glinting in the light as hair trailed and traced under parted buttons and a hint of flesh as zipper teeth gave way under straining seams.

He evened his breathing out and slowed his movements. Weights braced in one hand, his other reached down and tugged at his clothes. He adjusted himself and hissed a breath when his waistband dragged across sensitive flesh and pulled it in tight to his stomach. He suppressed a groan when he felt the touch of moist warmth sliding over his skin.

He gently let Sanji down from his bonds and the cook slid against him, bound hands clutching at the front of his shirt. Fingers nudged the material aside and touched his collarbone. Heat grew in his chest and his lips parted, breathing coming faster. Slim hips moved against his, hardness rubbing against his thigh causing his own arousal to surface.

Zoro bit back a moan as memories poured forth into his mind. He cursed himself for allowing the lapse in concentration that brought THAT up.

Chains clinked as deft fingers sought entrance into his pants, teeth clenching when one particularly harsh movement slapped the metal against his leg, his stomach burning in anticipation. Cold touched his flesh as a hand slipped in and around, calluses imprinting on…

Zoro inhaled sharply. That wasn’t a memory. His mind was finally running away from him and trying to connect with the dreams that had been happening with too regular frequency since THAT time.

Green eyes blazed as Sanji fell to his knees, blond head moving forward, tongue darting out to lick at hard flesh and drag his tongue over the prominent vein. His pants scratched at his thighs and a cold breeze touched his exposed body, shivering violently as fingers suddenly grasped his butt and yanked him further forward, hot mouth sliding over…

He nearly dropped the weight in his hands as heat suddenly ripped through him, producing a full body shudder. His eyes slid shut as he fought to regain control, slowing his heartbeat and then bringing his breathing down to match. He had to stop with the fantasising. It was getting difficult to separate his memory of that night from his dreams.

A nail scratched lightly over his balls and dragged across the expanse of hot, soft flesh. Confident fingers pressed hard against his…

Zoro slammed his eyes shut and with shaky hands, set the weight on the deck. With fists clenched at his side, he attempted to send his mind into a Zen state while trying not to mentally chant about needy cooks and swear at himself.

Chain links rubbed the back of his neck and the concrete wall bit into his skin. He buried his face into the slender neck and inhaled, grime and must overshadowed by the smell of what was just Sanji. One leg wound around his, bringing their lower bodies in direct contact. A low moan bounced off the walls as naked flesh…

His opened his eyes to mere slits and stared into blue heat. His hands ached – hell, his skin ached - to reach out and caress the man before him and as he watched a pink tongue slick parted lips, he vaguely wondered when he had lost his control. This was getting out of hand. Blond hair fluttered and the gaze was torn from him, watching as mouth moved to form words…

Zoro blinked. Words?

There was a crash followed by the flying form of Luffy across the deck, which seemed slightly out of place in his current dreams and the sound of water splashing against hull wasn’t as relaxing as it should have been.

The smooth tones of the cook’s voice reached him, sending a shiver up his spine and his blood racing south. He was sure there was something really wrong with that but he just couldn’t work up the energy to be annoyed. Even the prospective idea of kicking the skinny-ass was starting to wane in its appeal. That made him strangely sad.

Sanji was calling for lunch.

He was still having issues distinguishing memory from dream but at least his hold on reality was a little firmer, even if it did include the cook more than he’d like to admit. Food however, remained a constant and he was pretty damn hungry. Drawing a deep breath, he calmed the damn nerves that really shouldn’t have needed it and made his way to the galley.

The table was beautifully presented as always and the food, deliciously perfect. There was an odd churning in Zoro’s stomach as he took his seat. Stifling air pressed into him from all sides and, lest he incur the wrath of a blond idiot, forced himself to eat what was in front of him. He almost cheered when a rubber hand appeared and swiped the last of his food.

His back tensed as a hand reached for his empty plate and his gaze darted to slim wrists. Not delicate; far from it, but still deceptively strong. He stared at the scars left from that place, striking fair skin with even paler lines. Zoro clenched his jaw in an effort to keep silent. He should have been faster. He should have taken the time to destroy every last one of the assholes that had taken the damn cook. He remembered why he didn’t.

Reaching for his drink, he downed almost the entire contents and tried not to choke when he was stared at by the blond. A weird heat touched his cheeks and he blamed it on the booze and did that asshole have to keep looking at him?

The arm at his side retreated and he breathed in relief. The area around his personal space needed to be adjusted, maybe allowing for an extra several feet. Warmth touched the back of his neck and he jumped, knees knocking the table and upsetting several plates and glasses.

His nakama gave him curious looks and he resolutely ignored them in favour of staring at his fork. Several beats later and conversation returned to normal. He watched from under his lashes as Sanji walked back to the kitchen. It startled him when Sanji looked up and with an odd gleam, locked on to his eyes and Zoro watched in rabid fascination as blunt teeth bit into soft green flesh. He twitched.

Dinner passed in the usual chaos, with Luffy choking on a platter and Zoro trying – in vain – to control the tic in his eye that he was sure everyone was staring at. The eyes of the cook still hadn’t left him and he could feel his skin prickle under the assault. He wondered if it was considered bad form to run screaming out the door. Probably was. Maybe just the screaming part.

He looked up and found Robin gazing at him, a sly knowing smile gracing her annoyingly pleasant face. He twitched again. Her eyes moved to the side and he followed, flinching when green collided with blue. He silently swore when the rest of the crew finally took note of what was happening. Even though no words had passed between the two of them, the underlying tension was enough to have everyone else leaving the galley in a rush.

Guess he was on dish duty again.

Wash, dry, stack, Wash, dry, stack. The clink of crockery and cutlery filled the empty space, the silence highly uncomfortable. The occasional brush of fingers as another plate was taken and Zoro could feel the heat being pushed at him, the cook forcing him to accept whatever the hell it was he was trying to project. What if he threw all the dishes at the wall? Could he claim he’d been driven to breaking point by an insane cook who had it out for him? Could he, Roronoa Zoro, say that someone had managed to send him over the edge with an aura of wanting?

Nearly all the dishes were done and Zoro was still in suds up to his elbows. He stilled as a third hand entered the water, fingers curling around his. Strong thighs nudged against his and a lean chest pressed against his back. Warm breath against his neck. He heart sped up and he was sure it was echoing in the quiet room. Something wet touch his ear. He jumped and his knees thumped against the cupboard, elbow banging on the side of the sink.

He swore as his cock responded to the proximity of the cook and swore even harder when he tried to move away, only to succeed in his erection being rubbed against the cupboard door. He tried not to lean back, tried not to move in the search for friction, tried not to make the cook bring him to the point of where he was longing to go. He tried. He really did.

He moaned.

An answering growl at his ear and hand curved around a hip, pulling him flush against the body behind him. A knee wedged its way between his legs and a powerful thigh rubbed against him. A hitched breath and he was pushed forward and squeezed between the counter and a lean body.

There was the sound of water drops hitting hollow metal and then a wet hand was placed over his heart. The moisture soaking through the fabric was chill on his skin and his nipples hardened, arousal spiking at the change in temperature. Deft fingers rolled and pinched, rubbing the damp material with and over his skin, forcing restrained noises from his throat. Hands clenched in his shirt and the material dragged up. He shuddered as a tongue licked its way up his spine.

He jerked his hips back, rubbing his ass against Sanji and was rewarded with several swears muttered harshly into his ear. A palm was placed over his mouth and dragged across his lips, nerve endings tingling with the feel of hardened skin, giving way to softness and he could feel the pulsing in the veins. Zoro sucked the wrist offered to him, tongue tracing raised scars.

The hand at his chin forced his head back. Hot breath on his cheek and he licked his lips, moaning as tongues found each other and tangled. Mouth sealed over his and between the heat and saliva he could feel his throat tighten, not able to inhale as he felt like he was being eaten alive. A slight gasp as they separated and Zoro’s eyes opened to slits, glazed and unfocussed. His head was tilted to the side and open mouth kisses were trailed down his neck, pulse points sucked hard.

Fingers dragged along his scar, pressing hard in places and no more than a fleeting touch in others. Nails scraped the long-healed skin, catching in the depressions and calluses dragging roughly over sensitive edges.

He wondered fleetingly if it was possible to get any harder, his body to get any hotter.

Sanji’s hand pressed flat against his stomach, fingers teasing his navel, trailing softly over the trail of hair and following it down, to slide under his waistband. The hand wrapped around his cock - Zoro swore it was going to scorch his skin – and breath hissed out through clenched teeth.

The edge of the bench was gripped hard, knuckles turning white and need coursed through his veins. He attempted to suck in a lungful of air, only to get ragged gasping. He thrust into the hand wrapped around him, looking for friction and couldn’t the idiot just…

The hand at his face left, followed by the feel of his pants loosening and then dropping from his waist; he moaned as the air touched his skin. Sanji pushed him further into the cupboard door, and he could feel the alternating of wood and skin against his cock as he thrust faster. He needed…no, he wanted to, now-

His eyes went wide and… Fingers squeezed his cock hard and he nearly whimpered when the need passed, leaving him in dazed confusion.

Slick fingers rubbed against his hole and when the fuck had he gotten lube and he whined as one pushed in and what the hell was… He choked as another joined the first, curling slightly and ohfuckyesthatrightthere. There was a hum against his ear and teeth closed over the lobe, pulling, sending a pulse of lust directly to his groin and he really…wanted…to…

In one smooth move, the fingers were gone and Sanji was in him and he would question why it didn’t hurt later. Much, much later. When he could think. And articulate. His body couldn’t decide if it wanted to moan, groan or whimper. It settled for a low rumble and stuttered gasping.

He was bent at the waist and each thrust pushed him further against the sink. The shit cook wouldn’t let go of his cock and the bastard was growling in his ear. Sweat, skin slipping against skin and the slap slap of bare flesh.

His head was pulled back and tongue reached out to touch his, thrusts forcing him to his toes. A loud grunt and he felt teeth bury themselves into his shoulder. A rough jerk of his cock, another thrust and he was slammed against the door, his own climax rushing through him.

Heavy panting and fingers spread over his ribs, marking out weird-assed patterns on his skin. His legs felt shaky and jelly-like and he waited for them to give out on him. He closed his eyes as the heat at his back disappeared, leaving him sticky and feeling strange; he’d almost be willing to call it…lonely.

He could feel bruises already forming on various parts of his body and as sweat and cum dried on his skin, he came to a conclusion he had been hoping to avoid.

Apparently he had been remiss in not helping Sanji when he had first found him and now it was coming back to bite him in the ass.

He howled as teeth sank into his left butt cheek.

~~~~~

A bright light behind his eyes brought him awake. Disoriented for a moment, he tried to work out where the hell he was because he was pretty sure this wasn’t the kitchen and he knew that was where he’d last been laid out. He carefully patted himself down and found his clothes were on properly and even a quick grab at his crotch produced nothing more than a self-grope. Odd.

The weights he’d been training with hadn’t moved and the deck was void of any other crew. As he stood, he took a moment to check himself over. No pain, no stiffness, no anything. The thought of what had been happening, to not actually happen, was a little disheartening but even his wet-dreams were getting weirdly…accurate. His mind was being overrun with the damn curlicue.

Shower. Now.

His stomach rumbled but the thought of facing the cook when his mind was still filled with him, was probably not the best idea. He told his stomach to shut up.

With a quiet click of the door, he stripped and turned to the bath. He wondered if maybe it really had all been a dream. A flash of shadow in the mirror and he stared, his eyes going wide.

The giant bite mark on his ass said otherwise.