Chapter Text
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The morning sun came through the kitchen windows like a gentle intruder.
Sanji hadn't slept.
He had stayed on deck until the stars began to fade, smoking one cigarette after another, his back against the railing and his gaze lost on the dark horizon. Zoro's scent had clung to his clothes, to his skin, to the damned air he breathed. And every time he closed his eyes, he felt again the swordsman's nose brushing against his neck, his warm breath over the bond mark, his deep voice whispering "You smell the same as before."
He had masturbated two more times during the night.
Two more times in which Zoro's name had escaped his lips like a broken prayer.
Now, with the sun bathing the kitchen in golden light, Sanji moved between the stoves with the precision of an automaton. Coffee for Nami and Robin. Juice for Chopper. Meat for Luffy. Toast for Usopp. Cereal for Franky. Tea for Brook. And for Zoro...
Sanji stared at the plate he had prepared without thinking.
Salmon onigiri.
Exactly what he used to make for him three years ago, when they had breakfast together in the kitchen before the rest of the crew woke up. When Zoro sat on the counter next to him, stealing bites of food and brushing his hip with his calloused fingers. When Sanji turned to scold him and ended up trapped in his arms, with Zoro's mouth on his and the taste of shared sake.
He clenched his teeth and pushed the plate aside.
No. He wasn't going to do that.
But his hands moved on their own and placed the plate on the tray next to the rest of the breakfasts.
—Damn it — he murmured.
He went out on deck with the tray in perfect balance.
---
Breakfast on the Sunny was controlled chaos.
Luffy stretched his arms to steal food from everyone's plates. Chopper laughed with his mouth full. Usopp told an exaggerated story about his training with Heracles. Franky showed off his new laser nipple lights. Brook played a soft melody on the violin. Robin read a book with an enigmatic smile. Nami distributed slaps left and right to keep order.
And Zoro...
Zoro was sitting in his usual corner, leaning against the mast, arms crossed and eye closed. He seemed asleep. But Sanji knew he wasn't. He knew it from the tension in his shoulders. From the way his jaw tightened when the wind brought Sanji's scent to him.
The blond set the tray in the center of the table and distributed the plates efficiently.
—Ohhh, salmon onigiri! — exclaimed Luffy, reaching for the plate meant for Zoro.
Sanji hit his fingers with the tray without looking.
—That one's not yours, idiot.
Luffy pulled his hand back with a pout, but didn't insist. He had a mountain of meat just for him.
Sanji picked up the onigiri plate and walked toward the mast. Each step cost him the world. The bond mark on his neck throbbed strongly, sending waves of heat to his lower abdomen. Zoro's scent — steel, sake, storm — enveloped him like a tide.
He stopped in front of him.
Zoro slowly opened his eye. The gold of his iris shone under the morning light, fixing on Sanji with an intensity that had nothing sleepy about it.
—Breakfast, Marimo — said Sanji, setting the plate and a bottle of sake beside him with a brusque gesture —. And don't get used to it. I only cook for everyone because it's my job.
Zoro looked down at the plate.
Sanji saw something cross his face. A blink that lasted too long. A slight tremor in his fingers when he picked up the sake bottle.
—Onigiri — said Zoro, and his voice sounded strange —. Like before.
Sanji felt a knot in his throat.
—It doesn't mean anything — he replied, too quickly —. It's what was in the pantry.
Lie. He had bought fresh salmon in Sabaody specifically for this. He had filleted it at four in the morning, when he couldn't sleep, thinking about how Zoro liked the exact amount of salt.
Zoro said nothing. He took a sip of sake and bit into the onigiri.
He closed his eye.
And Sanji saw, perfectly, how his Adam's apple went up and down as he swallowed. He saw how his fingers gripped the cup harder than necessary. He saw how his chest swelled in a deep breath, as if the flavor had hit him somewhere deeper than his stomach.
—It's still good — Zoro said quietly.
Sanji turned abruptly and went back to the kitchen before his cheeks could betray him.
....
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....
Robin watched the scene with an enigmatic smile.
—Don't you think there's a strange tension between Zoro and Sanji? — Nami asked in a low voice, leaning toward her.
Robin took a sip of her coffee.
—I'd say it's the most natural tension in the world between an Alpha and an Omega who still love each other.
Nami sighed.
—That's true. But even though we don't know the details, we know they didn't exactly end well.
The orange-haired girl put her hand on her face, lamenting.
—I wish I could know that gossip.
Robin set her cup on the saucer with studied elegance.
—I agree. What we know is that the bond doesn't understand breakups. And those two... — She looked toward the mast, where Zoro had closed his eye again but kept the empty onigiri plate on his lap —. Those two are going to end up giving in.
Nami followed the direction of her gaze.
Zoro, with his eye closed, had brought a hand to his chest without realizing it.
In the kitchen, Sanji leaned against the counter and touched the mark on his neck with trembling fingers.
—Damned moss-head — he whispered.
But there was no venom in his voice.
Only tiredness. Only desire. Only the memory of one night, three years ago, when everything was different.
...
Flashback: Three years ago.
The full moon bathed the Sunny's deck in silver light.
The ship sailed peacefully through calm waters, rocked by a soft wind that smelled of salt and adventure. The rest of the crew slept in their cabins. Only two figures remained awake in the crow's nest.
Sanji lay on his back, his head resting on Zoro's chest and an unlit cigarette between his lips. He hadn't lit it. He didn't need to. The warmth of the swordsman's body was enough to calm his anxiety.
Zoro's fingers ran through his blond hair with a gentleness that contrasted brutally with the roughness of his calloused hands. It was an intimate gesture, private, that only existed on those shared guard nights. When the world shrank to the crow's nest, the moon, and the two of them.
—You should sleep — Zoro murmured, and his voice vibrated in his chest, resonating in Sanji's ear.
—I'm not sleepy.
—You're lying.
Sanji smiled without opening his eyes.
—It's part of my charm, Marimo.
Zoro let out a snort that could have been a laugh. His fingers went from Sanji's hair to his nape, tracing lazy circles on the bare skin. The blond shuddered. Zoro's scent — steel, sake, Alpha — intensified around him, enveloping him like a warm blanket.
—Zoro — Sanji said quietly.
—What?
—Do you ever think about... the future?
Zoro's fingers stopped for a moment. Then they continued their caress.
—All the time. I'm going to be the world's greatest swordsman.
Sanji opened his eyes and sat up a little, propping himself on an elbow to look at him. In the moonlight, Zoro's face seemed carved from marble. The firm jaw. The marked cheekbones. The golden eye shining with a determination Sanji knew well.
—I don't mean that — said Sanji —. I mean... us.
Zoro raised an eyebrow.
—Us?
Sanji felt a prick of insecurity in his chest. He cursed himself internally. He wasn't like that. He didn't ask these things. He didn't show vulnerability.
But with Zoro it was different.
It had always been different.
—We're a couple — said Sanji, and the words burned on his tongue —. We've been together for a year. But you've never... claimed me.
The silence that followed was heavy.
Zoro slowly sat up, now facing Sanji on the futon in the crow's nest. The moonlight cast shadows on his features, making him look younger and older at the same time.
—Do you want me to claim you? — Zoro asked, and his voice was deep, careful.
Sanji looked away.
—It's not about what I want. It's about whether you...
—Sanji.
The use of his name made him stop. Zoro almost never called him by his name. It was always "Cook" or "Curly" or some affectionate nickname like "Darling" every now and then. But when he said "Sanji," in that deep voice and that serious tone, the world stopped.
Sanji looked up.
Zoro was looking at him with an intensity that burned. His golden eye shone under the moonlight, and in it there was no doubt. Only certainty. Only a truth so deep that Sanji felt his chest tighten.
—I want to claim you — said Zoro —. I've wanted to for months.
—Then why...?
—Because I was scared.
Sanji blinked. Zoro Roronoa, the Pirate Hunter, the future greatest swordsman in the world, the most stubborn and proud Alpha to have set foot on the Grand Line... was scared.
—Scared of what? — Sanji asked, his voice barely a whisper.
Zoro reached out and caressed Sanji's cheek with the back of his fingers. A tender gesture, almost reverent.
—Scared of binding you to me. Scared that you would regret it and that I wouldn't be enough for you.
Sanji felt his eyes sting.
—Idiot — he whispered —. You're a damned idiot.
—I know.
—I've been waiting for you to claim me for a year, Marimo. A year wondering if you didn't love me enough.
Zoro let out a low, humorless laugh.
—And I've been wondering for a year how the hell an Omega like you noticed an Alpha like me.
Sanji leaned forward and rested his forehead against Zoro's. He closed his eyes. He took a deep breath. Zoro's scent filled him completely: steel, sake, storm, home.
—Because you're an idiot — Sanji whispered —. But you're my idiot.
Zoro growled, a deep sound that vibrated in both their chests. His hand slid from Sanji's cheek to his nape, sinking his fingers into his blond hair. He gently pulled back, exposing the pale column of his throat.
The moonlight illuminated the bare skin of Sanji's neck. The Omega gland throbbed there, hot, offering itself. A blank canvas waiting for his Alpha's claim.
—Sanji — said Zoro, and his voice was a deep rumble —. I want everyone to know you belong to me.
Sanji shuddered. His fingers gripped Zoro's shoulders.
—Then do it — he gasped —. Claim me.
Zoro leaned toward his neck. Slowly. Very slowly. His warm breath brushed the sensitive skin over the gland, drawing a shiver from Sanji. Then, his tongue. Warm, wet, tracing a slow path from his collarbone to the base of his ear.
Sanji moaned. A small, broken sound that escaped his throat without permission.
—Shh — Zoro murmured against his skin —. Easy. I've got you.
His lips settled on the throbbing gland. A soft kiss. Almost reverent. And then, Zoro spoke again, and his words burned into Sanji's soul.
—Let everyone know that everything of mine belongs to you, Sanji.
And he sank his teeth.
But it wasn't just a bite.
It was the beginning of an absolute surrender.
Zoro's teeth sank into Sanji's skin with exquisite precision, piercing the gland at the exact angle where pain transformed into blinding pleasure. Sanji arched his back, a muffled cry escaping his lips as his fingers dug into Zoro's back. The metallic taste of blood filled the swordsman's mouth, and with it, the full torrent of the bond: Sanji's pheromones exploded on his palate like a living tide, sweet and salty, with that hint of tobacco and spices that drove him crazy.
Sanji felt the world disintegrate. The bond didn't just form on his neck; it formed in every nerve ending of his body. A wave of liquid heat ran down his spine, nested in his lower abdomen, and burst outward. His entire body became a single beat synchronized with Zoro's. He could feel the swordsman's pulse in his own blood, the other's desire merging with his own until it became indistinguishable.
Zoro didn't pull away. His mouth remained sealed to the wound, gently sucking, drinking from him while his free hand went down Sanji's chest. He unbuttoned his shirt urgently, needing more skin, more contact. His calloused fingers brushed a hardened nipple and Sanji moaned, an obscene sound lost against Zoro's neck.
—Zoro… — he gasped, his voice broken by pleasure and tears —. Don't… don't stop…
And Zoro didn't stop.
He pulled his teeth away only to lick the wound, to kiss the emerging bruise with a devotion that burned. His tongue traced the uneven outline of the mark while his hands finished undressing Sanji with desperate efficiency. Clothes flew around the crow's nest like sails torn by a storm. Skin against skin. Heat against heat.
Sanji clung to him, his legs wrapping around Zoro's hips, pulling him closer, needing to feel him everywhere. Their scents mixed: storm and sea, spices and steel. Their bodies sought each other with the memory of a year of stolen caresses, but now it was different. Now there was a sacred urgency, a hunger that couldn't be satisfied with just kisses.
Zoro positioned himself between his legs and entered him with exquisite slowness, looking into his eyes as he did. Sanji held his breath, tears rolling freely down his cheeks as he felt Zoro fill him completely, body and soul. Because they were no longer two. They were one. The bond throbbed in his neck, in his chest, in the place where their bodies joined.
—Look what you do to me, Cook — Zoro growled, his voice hoarse, broken by the effort of holding back —. Look how I need you.
And Sanji looked. He saw the beads of sweat on his forehead, the clenched jaw, the golden eye burning with a mixture of desire and absolute devotion. He saw his Alpha. He saw his home.
—Move, Marimo — Sanji pleaded, his fingers digging into Zoro's shoulder blades. — Hard.
Zoro obeyed. His hips began a deep, rhythmic swaying that dragged them both to a place where time didn't exist. Each thrust drew a moan from Sanji, each moan urged Zoro to go deeper, to give everything. The crow's nest filled with ragged gasps, with the wet sound of their bodies meeting, with their names repeated like prayers.
The pleasure grew, coiled in their bellies like a tide about to break. Zoro buried his face in Sanji's neck, right over the fresh mark, and licked it, kissed it, worshipped it as he quickened the rhythm. Sanji felt himself crumbling, his soul spilling through the open wound to mix with Zoro's.
—Zoro… Zoro, I'm going to… — Sanji stammered, on the edge of the abyss.
—Together — Zoro replied, his warm breath against the throbbing mark —. With me, Sanji. Now.
And the knot formed. At the precise moment when both reached climax, they felt their bodies seal, the bond tying itself irrevocably. Sanji screamed Zoro's name as stars exploded behind his eyelids, and Zoro spilled inside him with a guttural moan that sounded like surrender and victory at the same time.
They stayed like that, joined, panting, drenched in sweat and tears and love. Zoro didn't pull out. He barely moved to rest his forehead against Sanji's, their noses brushing.
—You're mine now — said Zoro, his voice broken and his gaze full of a tenderness only Sanji knew —. Forever.
—I love you, Marimo — Sanji whispered against his skin.
Zoro kissed his crown.
—I love you too, Cook.
***
The next morning, when they went down for breakfast, the rest of the crew noticed the change immediately.
—Sanji! You have a mark on your neck! — Chopper shouted, pointing with his hoof —. Did you hurt yourself? Let me heal you!
Sanji turned red as a tomato.
—It's not... it's not a wound, Chopper. It's...
—It's a bond mark — Robin completed with a smile —. Congratulations.
Luffy tilted his head.
—Does that mean Zoro and Sanji are married now?
—NO! — they both shouted in unison.
—Shishishi, you're both so weird.
Nami looked at them with a raised eyebrow.
—Well, as long as you don't cause scandals at night, I don't care. But since you woke me up with your noises, you owe me two million berries for the disturbance.
Sanji wished the ground would swallow him.
Zoro, on the other hand, just growled and served himself sake for breakfast.
—I don't have money, witch.
But when Sanji put the onigiri plate in front of him, their fingers brushed under the table.
And neither of them pulled their hand away.
(End of Flashback.)
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Present:
Sanji opened his eyes.
The memory faded like cigarette smoke, leaving him back in the Sunny's kitchen, his hands trembling on the counter and his heart tight in his chest.
The mark on his neck throbbed.
He touched it with his fingers. The crescent of tiny white dots was still there. After three years, after two years of separation, it was still there. Like a promise neither had fully broken.
"Let everyone know that everything of mine belongs to you, Sanji."
Where was that Zoro now? Where was the Alpha who had whispered those words against his skin, who had licked his tears, who had promised him the entire sea?
Sanji clenched his teeth and lit a cigarette.
—We're not those people anymore — he told himself quietly —. That was before. Now we're just two strangers on the same ship.
But the bond on his neck throbbed again, warm, hungry, contradicting every one of his words.
On deck, Zoro gripped the empty sake cup between his fingers and looked toward the kitchen.
He hadn't heard Sanji's words.
But the bond in his chest screamed that his omega wasn't exactly okay.
"Sanji.."
***