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Zoro never understood the appeal of sex.
When he was in the East Blue, struggling to get by, a lot of wayward vagabonds would tell him to let off some steam. Find a whore, fuck ‘em, and leave sort of thing. It always made his skin crawl whenever someone would suggest that to him. He could never fault those who sell their body for a living — hell, he was a fucking murderer by trade. He can also see why they think sex would be fun. But it never got through to him why people would just have sex for fun other than to just pass the time.
Zoro grew up in a dojo, basically raised by a man who stayed loyal to his then deceased wife for years. He had Kuina and Kuina only. Whether it’s by some tradition or by choice, sensei was celibate for the rest of his life and he was completely fine with it. Zoro thought he’d be like that too. No one really ever caught his interest, let alone some deep seated desire for the carnal act. His other classmates have done it, traded stories with him even, but Zoro never participated. Never felt the need to.
That continued on even when he joined the Straw Hat crew.
His crew weren’t hypersexual like a lot of pirate crews that he encountered before. His own captain was more interested in meat than sex. It made Zoro not feel out of place even if he doesn’t really care what people think. It’s refreshing to have a crew who aren’t blinded by things like that — sex, love, desire.
Well… everyone except Sanji.
Oh, was that blonde weirdo a thing to behold every time he laid eyes on anything that remotely resembled a woman. He’d be falling over himself. There would be blood on the floor. Hearts in his eyes. The whole nine yards of tomfoolery condensed into a skinny twig of a man with as much luck in wooing a woman as a pile of bricks . To be honest, that was an insult to the bricks.
Zoro, despite it all, found it so infuriatingly attractive.
What an embarrassment to fall for a guy whose bones turn into jelly when a woman breathes in his direction. Unbelievable. Zoro has seen his fair share of beautiful people. He can appreciate someone being gorgeous as much as the next person. But of all the people to be genuinely attracted to it had to be that blonde asshole? Was the universe playing one big practical joke on him? He’d rather cut off every single one of his limbs than indulge in whatever ugly feeling that makes itself known whenever Sanji smiles.
But Zoro was here anyway, every limb still intact, and that very same shitty cook curled up against his chest and drooling as he slept.
Fucking hell. Zoro’s a cuddler now.
Sanji had this uncanny ability to make Zoro realize many things about himself that he didn’t think existed. It’s either some form of witchcraft or Zoro’s just finally understanding what it’s like to… like someone. Like isn’t even a good word to describe how Zoro feels about Sanji.
Sanji’s a whirlpool, pulling Zoro’s broken sailboat in and consuming his entire being in one fell swoop. Like a flower that blooms even in the harshest winter hail, Sanji perseveres in capturing Zoro with the rare sight of his smile. In the tapestry of his life that Zoro so painstakingly weaved with his blood, sweat, and tears, Sanji was the golden thread that showed Zoro that despite his shortcomings, the loose ends and the mended patches, life was beautiful.
Zoro ached for Sanji, yearning for him like no other. He’s never felt that way for someone since the beginning of time. It was scary, to say the least. Where do all these emotions go when the cup overflows? How does one give and give and give to the person who has done nothing but allow him to take what is special; what is good? Zoro’s on the precipice of calamity.
But Sanji always comes to mend the devastation. Always lays a hand on his chest to remind him he’s alive. He’s alive , he’s breathing , and he’s here . There’s nowhere else Zoro would rather be than beside Sanji. There’s no one else who makes Zoro want in ways he couldn’t believe in.
Even then, his wants are to just have Sanji close. To inhale the cinnamon, sea salt, and rosemary scent that Zoro’s associated with wrapping his arms around the cook’s waist and burying his face into his neck. To kiss him slow and steady, with no rush to take and with every opportunity to give . He tastes of mint and sake on nights where the moon is high in the sky, with long long legs straddling his waist. Sharp strong flavors that make Zoro drunk without taking a single sip of alcohol.
Sanji has taught him a great many things about relationships — the good, the bad, and the devastating.
Weathering the storm takes much more than knowing how to man the sails. Zoro’s let go of the ropes many times and so has Sanji. Their sails have crumbled in thunderous arguments that leave two hearts aching and drifting out at sea. However, sunshine always comes at the end of a storm. And Zoro and Sanji know now how to mend their sails.
No matter how many times they fall, they get back up. Because that’s just who they are .
Who Zoro is has changed minimally despite their growing relationship. He still harbors many of the same principles, most only heightened by the fact that he is in a relationship. Certain things, however, have shifted his perspective since he and Sanji became a couple.
Namely, the sexual part.
Sanji, surprisingly, was gentle with Zoro when they first slept together. He could tell Zoro was nervous, more nervous than he has ever seen him since they met. Somewhere in the middle, Zoro panicked and actually ran to the bathroom and locked himself in there until Sanji managed to convince him to open the door. Zoro wasn’t crying, just spaced out, floating in an unknown sea, and Sanji was the lighthouse guiding him back to shore.
It was then where he was taught about intimacy.
Sanji ran him a bath then, settling in behind him, and humming a song by Zoro’s ear that sounded like a children’s lullaby. He talked about what kind of breakfast he was planning on making the next day and how they were running low on certain spices for curry. Zoro let himself be engulfed in it all — in the comfort that was Sanji.
“I should get you to do conditioner from now on,” Sanji said then, between kisses and nuzzles into his skin. He complimented him on how soft his hair was now. Zoro remembered the scratch of his fingernails against his scalp, how Zoro finally asked him to tug on the strands, just a little bit. Because it felt good. It felt wonderful. Not because he was uncovering some secret hair-pulling kink (though that was not entirely off the table now that it was an option), but because Sanji was doing it. Anybody else would have gotten a slash to the face.
They continued on in the bedroom, soft and slow and gentle. Kisses on tan skin and hickeys on milky thighs. All encompassing warmth from the top of his head to the tips of his fingers. Zoro could do nothing but indulge in this desire that only Sanji ever brought out in him. Not a single moment was wasted on that night and Zoro vowed then to waste no other night since then.
But the craziest part isn’t that Sanji was his first and most likely his last. The craziest part is that he didn’t realize he was in love even then.
The time that he did was so stupid. It could not be anyone else but them that could have a moment such as that. Entangled in each other’s embrace, caught up in the heat of the moment, between hot breaths and frantic kisses — it’s seemingly the perfect formula. But it wasn’t the sex, nor the way Sanji looked at him that made him realize it.
It was when Sanji cracked a joke. In the middle of foreplay.
And Zoro laughed.
It was like something finally unlocked in Zoro’s brain. Sanji was blushing, trying to hide his face for saying something stupid, but Zoro just took his wrists in his hands and kissed him senseless. He was still laughing between kisses, so much so that Sanji was soon infected and he started giggling. Their clothes weren’t even fully off — with Sanji having half his buttons unbuttoned and Zoro with his pants only pulled down to his knees. But they kept on laughing . Zoro couldn’t even remember what Sanji said anymore.
But he didn’t care. He just knew that right then and there, he loved him. He loves him.
Because who else can make him laugh during sex? Who else can take the weight off his shoulders during a vulnerable moment, and make him feel such a euphoria that only laughter can relieve? It’s silly and it’s dumb and anybody else would be looking at them like they’ve gone completely insane.
Luckily for Zoro, he never really cared what other people thought of him.