(no subject)

[moe81]

Title: To Scratch An Itch

Rating: PG

Pairing: Nakama, Zoro & Sanji (pairing totally implied)

A/N: This is the pic~ XD -> I’ll scratch your back if you’ll…
And this is the fic~

 

Zoro strolled into the galley, rubbing a towel over his hair and sweat-slicked chest. A good training session called for a drink. He paused inside the doorway and raised an eyebrow at the vision of the cook dancing around the dining area.

 

Hands roamed over his back, he’d use the bench or table for leverage, rub across the angle of the fridge, up and down on the corner of the bench and he even went so far as to yank a fork from the cutlery drawer. Sanji's attempts to scratch his back were quite a sight.

 

Zoro's presence went unnoticed for a good while. Sanji's eye finally cracked open and he faltered when he saw Zoro. He quickly covered his slip and glared at the swordsman. Zoro's mouth twitched up. "Having issues, cook?" 

 

"Shut up, bastard." They stared at each other for several moments before the blond seemed inclined to ignore whatever reservations he had about scratching in front of Zoro in favour of trying to reach his back again.

 

Zoro made his way to the kitchen, smirking at the pissed off expression he could feel drilling into the back of his head. Drink in hand, he couldn’t help but watch the twitching blond contorting his limbs around his body. He would occasionally hit the right spot, releasing a grunt of happiness, only to start again when he found he hadn't gotten the entire area.

 

As amused as he was, Zoro couldn't leave his nakama in such a position. Leaving the glass and his towel on the bench, he approached Sanji and indicated for him to turn around. The look he received would have cut down a lesser man. "Piss off."

 

He rolled his eyes and pushed on the cook's shoulder. Sanji turned his head to swear at him again and Zoro ran his fingernails hard over Sanji's back, the material bunching under his hands. Sanji bent forward and let out a groan of relief.

 

"Harder." The order was given on a gasp. 

 

Zoro arched an eyebrow and dug his fingers deeper. Sanji moaned, groped out for the dining table and dropped on to it, his hands spreading over the wood. 

 

"Harder, dammit."

 

Startled by the demand only for a moment, Zoro pulled at Sanji's shirt and it was stripped with little resistance. He pressed Sanji closer to the table, bending the cook further and he raked his fingers over the pale skin spread out before him.

 

Sanji was releasing shuddering breaths, moans and whimpers and they were all interspersed with a litany of 'more' and 'harder'. Zoro swallowed hard and moved in closer, his thighs pressed against the back of the Sanji's.

 

His thumbs caressed the whitened skin of the scar at the cook's lower back, his nails running lightly around the outside. His hands trailed up Sanji's spine, a fleeting touch over heated flesh, and then dragged back down, leaving red score marks. The cook arched under his ministrations and thrust his head back, a particularly loud moan dragging from his chest. A final shudder and the blond rested his head on the table, his panting breaths the only audible noise in the room.

 

Zoro stilled, his hands unmoving and feeling the slowing pulse through the cook’s back, before he stepped back and dropped his arms to his sides. He took a moment to gather his wits and tried to force away the heat in his cheeks then turned to leave.

 

With his fingers curled around the door handle, he heard a mumble from Sanji. He was sure it was a quiet 'thanks'. He made a non-committal noise and walked out, closing the door behind him.