A ZoSopp and One Meme Ficlet
May. 10th, 2006 06:20 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dethoratsTitle: No Secrets
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: ZoSan of a sorts f
Word Count: 1006
Note: From ye olde “Wank” universe.
It was too good to last. He’d tried not to think about it, but the simple fact that the Going Merry was small and they all slept in the same room meant that sooner or later he’d be subjected to the horror once again. At least, and this was what he tried to console himself with every time the horrid memories popped unwanted into his brain, the chef was quiet about it when he was alone. After all, he’d unwittingly seen the blonde in action twice now and he was pretty sure he knew what the bastard was all about.
His slowly corroding sense of decency was corrupted once again about three weeks after the, ah, incident with the love potion. And this time, unlike his two prior experiences, Roronoa Zoro couldn’t completely claim innocence for his own unwitting role. It was mid afternoon on a particularly boring day. All of the excitement from the Millennial Dragons was gone and there was nothing to keep the crew occupied on this last stretch of East Blue before they FINALLY hit Reverse Mountain and the Grand Line. As was his wont, he’d tried seeking out the familiar companionship of alcohol earlier that day. Booze made him relaxed and let him nap without any of the dreams that had plagued him on and off since that original late night bit of voyeurism. Except, of course, the crap cook had kicked him out of the kitchen. It had been a decent fight until the witch had broken it up and he’d ended up sulking in the shade of her mikans.
Zoro had bided his time, made it through lunch and out the other side thanks to a rowdy game of “toss the beaker” with Luffy while Usopp panicked in between them. Taking up a position on the rail, he’d dozed on and off until the fruity bastard had come waltzing out of the galley with a decidedly girly frozen concoction on a tray. While the curly-browed idiot had swooned over the damn navigator, the swordsman snuck with all of his considerable speed and stealth into the kitchen. The jerk had moved the booze; he’d noticed that at lunch. But putting it into the pantry only meant it was slightly harder for him to sneak it past the chef, not impossible. With a smirk of triumph, Zoro had slipped through the open pantry door and grabbed two of the biggest bottles. He was even good and didn’t pop either cork but his restraint was for naught as Sanji twirled back into the kitchen just before the swordsman started to make his escape.
The moron was humming under his breath, muttering occasionally to himself as he plopped his tray down beside the sink. It would have taken only a small fight to make it past him but Zoro’s brain had the gall to inflict an image of his creditor on him and he stopped, tucked himself back behind the half-open door and prayed the fool would get the hell out so he could too. Alas, such was not to be. Instead, while Zoro’s keen hearing picked up on every sound, the chef went about making himself comfortable. Under the cover of the rather cheery melody came the jangling of a wallet chain and the faint sound of a belt being undone. The snicker of metal on metal as the zipper came down was unmistakable and Zoro flushed and silently cursed Sanji and his own brain for the memories it threw at him.
Twice before the blonde had been relatively quiet. Indeed, he’d been too quiet the first time and so he’d managed to wake Zoro up. And the second time, well, Usopp had been making enough noise for three or four people and Sanji, despite his suave comments had mostly kept his mouth shut. So it was that Zoro nearly dropped his precious bottles when the humming stopped. For a second or two he could – reluctantly of course, damn his ears – make out the clear sound of skin sliding on skin. And then that was gone, covered up as that ashtray mouth opened and the cook began muttering some of the filthiest things the swordsman had ever heard. Growing redder and redder, Zoro slid slowly down the shelves to sag on the floor. The booze plinked against the wood but the chef never heard it and the eavesdropper didn’t notice either. Too bad for him, because if he had perhaps he would have managed to clap his newly freed hands over his ears. As it was, Zoro spent an uncomfortable eight minutes or so listening to Sanji expound on just precisely he wanted to do to certain fellow crewmembers, along with a brief mention of his own name that he promptly blocked out in sheer terror.
It would have almost been educational if it hadn’t been quite so raw. Well, and if his own traitorous flesh wasn’t acting up again. Damn it, and he had nearly gotten it back under his usual iron control, too. At last (an eternity to the swordsman but in reality not terribly long), it was over. Here was the only area where Sanji’s behavior didn’t change. He came in near silence and only the end of the stream of commentary and the sound of a striking match clued in the listening Zoro that his ordeal was almost over. Unsteady hands regripped the now-essential bottles as the swordsman prepared to wait. After what had just happened, there was no way he could face the cook. No, he’d have to stay in the pantry until Sanji left again.
Hours later, after calling the stupid cabbage head several times to come for dinner, Sanji stumbled over a gently snoring Zoro in his very own pantry. Before he kicked him awake for drinking nearly half of their alcohol supply, the blonde reflected that now he truly had seen the swordsman sleep in absolutely every possible place on the Going Merry. There was nowhere and nothing sacred in such a small space.
Title: Glasses
Rating: Mmm, R-ish
Pairing: ZoSopp
Word Count: 366
“Unh….fu~ck…”
The hurricane lamp on the table flickered, shadows and light wavering across the room, darkening the smirk that stretched briefly, knife-sharp, on Zoro’s face. “Mind the table,” was all he said though, before he lowered his head once more.
It was so damn hard to focus on his words when the swordsman was doing things that should have been so much more physically complicated. Or maybe it was the flush of alcohol. Either way Usopp made an effort. His hand unclenched from its death-grip on the edge of the table, searching fingers seeking a place to rest. But with his legs flung over the arms of the wing chair and his other hand determinedly clutching at short green strands as Zoro moved, there was nowhere for it to go. Soon enough, as darkened green eyes stared up into his and a tan throat teasingly swallowed, he was cursing again, louder this time, and his hand was back on the table.
Mostly empty glasses clinked against each other, against the brass base of the wobbling lamp and against the thicker glass of the empty bottle of gin as the sharpshooter trembled from the combined onslaught Zoro was bringing to bear against him. And fuck it was so much easier to cuss with his tongue liquor-loosened and his body flexing in ways he hadn’t thought it could. And who knew Zoro was that limber? He'd known the cook certainly was, and obviously so was the captain. But the master of Santoryu was on his knees before him, holding up whatever weight wasn’t resting on the chair and Usopp basically being folded in half as that scarred torso curled around so Zoro could wrap his too-clever tongue and too-warm mouth over him and…just…
“Fuck!”
Shadows danced once more and this time Zoro didn’t bother with a warning, not when he was close and when the younger boy was practically ripping his hair out and babbling a string of curses that would have made the shitty chef proud. On the shaking table, a few drops of alcohol dribbled out of a fallen glass and gleamed as brightly as Zoro’s earrings, as Usopp’s eyes, whenever the light chanced upon them.
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: ZoSan of a sorts f
Word Count: 1006
Note: From ye olde “Wank” universe.
It was too good to last. He’d tried not to think about it, but the simple fact that the Going Merry was small and they all slept in the same room meant that sooner or later he’d be subjected to the horror once again. At least, and this was what he tried to console himself with every time the horrid memories popped unwanted into his brain, the chef was quiet about it when he was alone. After all, he’d unwittingly seen the blonde in action twice now and he was pretty sure he knew what the bastard was all about.
His slowly corroding sense of decency was corrupted once again about three weeks after the, ah, incident with the love potion. And this time, unlike his two prior experiences, Roronoa Zoro couldn’t completely claim innocence for his own unwitting role. It was mid afternoon on a particularly boring day. All of the excitement from the Millennial Dragons was gone and there was nothing to keep the crew occupied on this last stretch of East Blue before they FINALLY hit Reverse Mountain and the Grand Line. As was his wont, he’d tried seeking out the familiar companionship of alcohol earlier that day. Booze made him relaxed and let him nap without any of the dreams that had plagued him on and off since that original late night bit of voyeurism. Except, of course, the crap cook had kicked him out of the kitchen. It had been a decent fight until the witch had broken it up and he’d ended up sulking in the shade of her mikans.
Zoro had bided his time, made it through lunch and out the other side thanks to a rowdy game of “toss the beaker” with Luffy while Usopp panicked in between them. Taking up a position on the rail, he’d dozed on and off until the fruity bastard had come waltzing out of the galley with a decidedly girly frozen concoction on a tray. While the curly-browed idiot had swooned over the damn navigator, the swordsman snuck with all of his considerable speed and stealth into the kitchen. The jerk had moved the booze; he’d noticed that at lunch. But putting it into the pantry only meant it was slightly harder for him to sneak it past the chef, not impossible. With a smirk of triumph, Zoro had slipped through the open pantry door and grabbed two of the biggest bottles. He was even good and didn’t pop either cork but his restraint was for naught as Sanji twirled back into the kitchen just before the swordsman started to make his escape.
The moron was humming under his breath, muttering occasionally to himself as he plopped his tray down beside the sink. It would have taken only a small fight to make it past him but Zoro’s brain had the gall to inflict an image of his creditor on him and he stopped, tucked himself back behind the half-open door and prayed the fool would get the hell out so he could too. Alas, such was not to be. Instead, while Zoro’s keen hearing picked up on every sound, the chef went about making himself comfortable. Under the cover of the rather cheery melody came the jangling of a wallet chain and the faint sound of a belt being undone. The snicker of metal on metal as the zipper came down was unmistakable and Zoro flushed and silently cursed Sanji and his own brain for the memories it threw at him.
Twice before the blonde had been relatively quiet. Indeed, he’d been too quiet the first time and so he’d managed to wake Zoro up. And the second time, well, Usopp had been making enough noise for three or four people and Sanji, despite his suave comments had mostly kept his mouth shut. So it was that Zoro nearly dropped his precious bottles when the humming stopped. For a second or two he could – reluctantly of course, damn his ears – make out the clear sound of skin sliding on skin. And then that was gone, covered up as that ashtray mouth opened and the cook began muttering some of the filthiest things the swordsman had ever heard. Growing redder and redder, Zoro slid slowly down the shelves to sag on the floor. The booze plinked against the wood but the chef never heard it and the eavesdropper didn’t notice either. Too bad for him, because if he had perhaps he would have managed to clap his newly freed hands over his ears. As it was, Zoro spent an uncomfortable eight minutes or so listening to Sanji expound on just precisely he wanted to do to certain fellow crewmembers, along with a brief mention of his own name that he promptly blocked out in sheer terror.
It would have almost been educational if it hadn’t been quite so raw. Well, and if his own traitorous flesh wasn’t acting up again. Damn it, and he had nearly gotten it back under his usual iron control, too. At last (an eternity to the swordsman but in reality not terribly long), it was over. Here was the only area where Sanji’s behavior didn’t change. He came in near silence and only the end of the stream of commentary and the sound of a striking match clued in the listening Zoro that his ordeal was almost over. Unsteady hands regripped the now-essential bottles as the swordsman prepared to wait. After what had just happened, there was no way he could face the cook. No, he’d have to stay in the pantry until Sanji left again.
Hours later, after calling the stupid cabbage head several times to come for dinner, Sanji stumbled over a gently snoring Zoro in his very own pantry. Before he kicked him awake for drinking nearly half of their alcohol supply, the blonde reflected that now he truly had seen the swordsman sleep in absolutely every possible place on the Going Merry. There was nowhere and nothing sacred in such a small space.
Title: Glasses
Rating: Mmm, R-ish
Pairing: ZoSopp
Word Count: 366
“Unh….fu~ck…”
The hurricane lamp on the table flickered, shadows and light wavering across the room, darkening the smirk that stretched briefly, knife-sharp, on Zoro’s face. “Mind the table,” was all he said though, before he lowered his head once more.
It was so damn hard to focus on his words when the swordsman was doing things that should have been so much more physically complicated. Or maybe it was the flush of alcohol. Either way Usopp made an effort. His hand unclenched from its death-grip on the edge of the table, searching fingers seeking a place to rest. But with his legs flung over the arms of the wing chair and his other hand determinedly clutching at short green strands as Zoro moved, there was nowhere for it to go. Soon enough, as darkened green eyes stared up into his and a tan throat teasingly swallowed, he was cursing again, louder this time, and his hand was back on the table.
Mostly empty glasses clinked against each other, against the brass base of the wobbling lamp and against the thicker glass of the empty bottle of gin as the sharpshooter trembled from the combined onslaught Zoro was bringing to bear against him. And fuck it was so much easier to cuss with his tongue liquor-loosened and his body flexing in ways he hadn’t thought it could. And who knew Zoro was that limber? He'd known the cook certainly was, and obviously so was the captain. But the master of Santoryu was on his knees before him, holding up whatever weight wasn’t resting on the chair and Usopp basically being folded in half as that scarred torso curled around so Zoro could wrap his too-clever tongue and too-warm mouth over him and…just…
“Fuck!”
Shadows danced once more and this time Zoro didn’t bother with a warning, not when he was close and when the younger boy was practically ripping his hair out and babbling a string of curses that would have made the shitty chef proud. On the shaking table, a few drops of alcohol dribbled out of a fallen glass and gleamed as brightly as Zoro’s earrings, as Usopp’s eyes, whenever the light chanced upon them.
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no subject
Date: 2006-05-10 04:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-11 12:43 am (UTC). As it was, Zoro spent an uncomfortable eight minutes or so listening to Sanji expound on just precisely he wanted to do to certain fellow crewmembers, along with a brief mention of his own name that he promptly blocked out in sheer terror.
And the ZoSopp was so fucking hot. God, this pairing is such a lovely fetish for me.
Great job on both pieces!
no subject
Date: 2006-05-17 03:12 pm (UTC)It had been a decent fight until the witch had broken it up and he’d ended up sulking in the shade of her mikons. Why is the thought of Zoro sulking just so cute?
a rowdy game of “toss the beaker” with Luffy while Usopp panicked in between them Dorks. Just dorks.
covered up as that ashtray mouth opened and the cook began muttering some of the filthiest things the swordsman had ever heard. OMG, I love that!
along with a brief mention of his own name that he promptly blocked out in sheer terror. Oh, Zoro. *eye roll*
There was nowhere and nothing sacred in such a small space. *snickers*
Hmmm, I do believe my thoughts on ZoSopp are known by now, yes?
And who knew Zoro was that limber? The cook certainly, and obviously the captain. Zoro: swordsman. directionless wonder. slut.
On the shaking table, a few drops of alcohol dribbled out of a fallen glass and gleamed as brightly as Zoro’s earrings, as Usopp’s eyes, whenever the light chanced upon them. Pretty, pretty words, these.
no subject
Date: 2006-05-17 03:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-18 08:32 am (UTC)And I'm glad that it is acceptable! Also, ZoSopp pr0n again?! Woman, you will be the end of me from this pairing I suspect.