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No Matter What He Looked Like
Sanji was going to kill Iva. Not that he actually could, but he was going to try. He stalked down the street of Grove 13 on Sabaody Archipelago, his tits bouncing beneath his suit. Iva had joined his candies in giving him a lift from Kamabakka Kingdom to Sabaody on the appointed day, to meet up with the Straw Hats after two years apart. Iva had hugged Sanji just before he’d disembarked. Before he knew it, Iva had injected Sanji with hormones using his syringe-fingers and his Horu Horu no Mi devil fruit ability. The Okama bastard.
“Sanji-girl,” Iva had said with a titter after Sanji had completed his transformation. “Don’t forget everything you’ve learned about yourself. And have fun!”
“Damned, shitty Queen,” Sanji grumbled, cigarette clamped between his lips. He knew the effects were temporary and they’d last until tonight or tomorrow, at most. But he hadn’t seen his nakama and a certain stupid mossball in two years and now he was a woman!
The black double-breasted suit hung large on his narrower frame, his big tits stretching the buttons of his mustard-colored shirt. His black tie was loosely knotted around his neck. He was still as tall as he’d been, thankfully, but he’d needed to cinch the belt on his curvy waist to keep his black trousers up. The loss of muscle mass was irritating. He’d met women who looked like body-builders. Why couldn’t his body have stayed the same? Sanji blew out a frustrated breath. He knew it was because that wasn’t how Iva’s devil fruit powers worked. Iva didn’t slap tits and a pussy on him. He’d been transformed into a soft, effeminate woman. Even his goatee was gone.
And Iva knew how much Sanji hated it. Knew how greatly Sanji had rebelled against being seen as anything but a strong, virile man. Once upon a time, his biological father had called him weak and a failure for not being as strong, capable, or ruthless as his brothers. Sanji was soft, full of emotions, and cried a lot. He’d endured brutal tests he couldn’t pass, had every bone broken multiple times, and had died more than once – all before he’d turned eight. Eventually, his father locked him in a dungeon to rot, forcing a metal helmet onto his head to hide his worthless face. For six months, he’d lived in that dungeon, being beaten by his brothers, battling isolation and insects. When he finally escaped, he’d vowed never to be seen as weak again.
Sanji blew out an agitated puff of smoke. He knew that women weren’t weak. He knew that being a woman was nothing to be ashamed about. Over the past two years, he’d even learned that he liked wearing traditionally feminine things, when he – not someone else – chose it. But Sanji was born to love the ladies, not be a lady. He was a man, damn it, and he liked being a man, no matter how he was dressed.
Of course, that was probably why Iva had done it, to force him to remember that he had a genderqueer side, to show him that it didn’t make him any less of a man to embrace it. Or Iva did it because Iva was a bastard in fishnet stockings.
Sanji’s nipples rubbed against the front of his shirt as he stalked down the street, only making things worse. He was getting turned on, a pressure building in his pussy that he longed to satisfy. As soon as he checked in at Shakky’s Rip-off Bar, he planned to get a hotel room and indulge in every perverse, sexual thing he wanted to do. If Iva was going to make him a woman, then he was damn well going to have sex with her – even if that meant having sex with himself.
Shakky, Silvers Rayleigh, Duval, and the Rosy Life Riders were initially stunned to see Sanji, but when he mentioned Iva’s name, Shakky and Rayleigh burst into laughter. Sanji sulked, got hit on by Duval and his crew, and found out he was sixth to check in at Sabaody. Zoro was the first. That shitty swordsman wasn’t going to let Sanji live that down. Nobody knew where the marimo was, though, so Sanji stuck to his plans.
He was directed to Grove 70 for the hotels and Grove 40 for the shops. Though he really wanted to head straight to a hotel, he needed toys first. He was determined to get back at Iva by filling himself with every toy he could find until he was a blissed-out mess. Plus, if he was stuck like this, he was going to get something better to wear. It was bad enough that he’d be meeting his nakama as a woman, but at least he could look good doing it.
He hit the clothing shops first, finding some things to his taste. He changed in the fitting room into a tight, black corset with burgundy lace highlighting the bust and a layered burgundy skirt over thigh-high stockings, garters, and knee high ass-kicker boots. He’d tied a delicate, black lace bow around his neck. He mussed his hair up a bit in the mirror to give him a just-fucked look. The length and style hadn’t changed with Iva’s powers, but the shape of his face had softened, becoming truly feminine, making the cut look different. He wasn’t a fan of makeup, so he pinched his cheeks to give them some color. He eyed himself critically in the mirror. He’d want to fuck himself.
Sanji found another couple outfits to his liking in case the transformation lasted longer than the day, some slutty undergarments for anytime he was feeling queer, and a short, sheer negligee in dark blue with a square neck that he would definitely wear when he was a man again, just not in front of the entire crew.
With his purchases safely trapped in bubbles tied to his wrist, Sanji headed to the sex shops next. Even tucked away from the main tourist areas, the shops still thrived on horny humans and others that were found everywhere. He loaded up on dildos, vibrators, and anal beads, tossing in some flavored lube and a few smut magazines. He glanced at a leather paddle but decided against it. He had enough fun toys.
Next, Sanji visited a wine seller, picking up some good stuff along with a glass. If he was going to party, he might as well do it right. He added cheese, crackers, cut fruit, and sliced meats for nibbling. Then he stopped by a toiletries shop and another that sold the musky cologne he liked.
As he walked near the waterfront on his way to a chocolatier, Sanji caught mention of a swordsman with green hair. Sanji paused, bubbles bobbing over head, and looked toward the water. An old man was fretting to himself. “I told him it was the wrong boat! Why didn’t he get off?”
“Oi, old man,” Sanji said, walking over to him. Sanji’s voice was higher in pitch, though it still had a smoker’s rasp. “Did you say something about a swordsman with green hair?”
“I did.” The old man turned, and his eyes widened when he saw Sanji’s outfit. His gaze focused on Sanji’s overflowing, corseted breasts. “He wanted to go fishing and I said I’d take him, but he got on the wrong boat. Now he’s on a pirate ship heading to Fish-Man Island.”
“Did he carry three swords with him?” Sanji asked, his pulse rate speeding up. He hadn’t expected to run into anyone, especially not Zoro.
The old man nodded to Sanji’s boobs. “Yes. And he had one eye. Do you know him? Those pirates are vicious!”
“One eye? What did that idiot do to himself now?” Sanji took a drag on his cigarette, the exhaled smoke curling into hearts above his head. “He’ll be fine. I’d be more worried for the pirates.”
As if on cue, a galleon exploded from the water off the shore, sheared in half. He heard screaming and berating about shattering dreams before a broad figure dressed in an olive-green long-coat, red sash, and green haramaki walked down the broken main mast and leapt to shore. The man with green hair, one eye, three katanas, and no shirt strode up to Sanji and the old man, wearing a frown. “You told me the wrong boat,” Zoro growled at the old man.
Butterflies launched flight in Sanji’s stomach. Two years. It had been two years since he’d seen the moss-headed swordsman. Two years of no fighting, no bickering, no idiotic grins or death glares. Two years of nothing but memories to keep him sane on an island of crazy-assed Okama intent on opening Sanji’s eyes and reinventing him. And now Zoro shows up, shirtless and frowning, like no time had passed at all.
“You’re the idiot who can get lost on the Sunny, marimo,” Sanji spoke up, a rush of nerves bubbling under his false calm. He fought to ignore the nagging fear that Zoro was going to be disgusted, or see him as less than an equal, even if just for a little while. “Don’t blame the old man because you’re stupid.”
Zoro turned to Sanji, eyed him up and down, and focused on the way his eyebrow curled above his nose and the cigarette between his lips. A deeper frown furrowed his brow. “Cook?”
“Yes.” Sanji dropped his cigarette butt on the street and ground it out with his foot. Anxiety clawed at his gut. “It’s me.”
Zoro stared blankly at Sanji for a moment, and Sanji could practically see the little rat running on its wheel that powered Zoro’s brain as he put words and body together. Zoro looked down at Sanji’s breasts. “You have boobs.”
“Well aware.”
Zoro scratched his jawline, eyeing Sanji’s stockings. They both ignored the old man listening in. “Do you have a pussy, too?”
Sanji sighed. He may as well get this over with. “Yes.”
“Huh.” Zoro raised his single eye to meet Sanji’s again. There was a flicker of something raw in his gaze. “I missed you,” he said, voice suddenly roughened with emotion. “Want to have sex?”
A startled laugh broke from Sanji, shaky around the edges. Zoro didn’t care. He didn’t care that Sanji was a woman now, albeit temporarily. Sanji’s chest tightened with a tangle of emotions, happiness, yearning, the feeling of finally coming home. “Fuck, yes,” he said, eyes bright. “You have no idea how much.”
Sanji latched onto Zoro’s wrist and dragged him toward the nearest bubble transport stand. If there was one thing that he loved about Zoro – and there were a lot of things – it was his bluntness. Zoro didn’t lie, or play coy, or beat around the bush. He was straightforward to the point of rudeness and didn’t care what other people thought about it. Sanji didn’t have to try and guess what Zoro was thinking, because he either outright said it or wasn’t thinking about anything at all. Zoro had missed Sanji, and Sanji had missed the hell out of him. Zoro’s want of intimacy only reinforced that fact.
He and Zoro had been a thing since Water 7, after they’d rescued Robin from the World Government. Zoro’s worry about Sanji on the sea train had come through loud and clear over the den den mushi, it had made Sanji’s insides squish, and that was pretty much that. Sanji had already known that his gender wasn’t the only thing that was queer. He’d kissed Zoro in the shared quarters at the Galley-La Company, because he knew the sexually inept idiot would never make a move. Zoro had to be shown how to insert tab A into slot B, but once he’d had a few lessons, he’d strived to become an expert.
Zoro still let Sanji be Sanji – frothing after the ladies, nosebleeds and all – which endeared Sanji even more toward him. Sanji could look, drool, and throw affection, but he wouldn’t touch. Why should he? He had a lover who could hit all his sweet spots and a partner who challenged him in all the right ways. Women could make him horny, sure, but it was the musclebound meathead beside him that made his heart go pitter-pat.
But now he could touch a woman’s body all he wanted, because that body was currently his. And Zoro was going to fuck him, which he was certain would beat the hell out of any dildo he could use on himself. But more than that, Zoro saw him, even like this, and didn’t turn away, or curled his lip in disgust, or even asked how or why. He’d just stood there, solid and steady, like nothing had changed, like Sanji was still Sanji. And that hit Sanji right in the heart, shattering any insecurities he had.
Sanji got them on a bubble tuk-tuk and directed the driver to the hotel grove. His packages floated behind the tuk-tuck as they drove down the streets. Sabaody Archipelago was a massive mangrove forest that produced sabaody bubbles, with each tree its own island, called groves. Bridges connected the groves and each grove was numbered to designate the type of business or buildings it focused on. As Sabaody Archipelago was the last destination before the New World, the groves were crowded with residents, tourists, pirates, and marines.
Zoro leaned back on the seat of the tuk-tuk, one arm stretched behind Sanji, the other hand resting on his knee. The breeze ruffled his green hair and made his earrings chime. He kept cutting side glances at Sanji with a tiny furrow between his brows. Even with the unconditional love Zoro had demonstrated, Sanji’s appearance was likely throwing him off. Zoro had the sexuality of a house plant and wasn’t really physically attracted to anyone. Zoro was into Sanji as a person, not a body. Sanji was the one who’d shown him how enjoyable sex could be. Still, to have a partner that Zoro had seen naked many times switch genders had to be confusing.
Sanji placed a hand on Zoro’s thigh, earning a faint blush and a fleeting smile at the public display of affection. Sanji’s stomach did that familiar flip it always did when Zoro reacted like that. Fuck, he’d missed this stupid swordsman.
The driver dropped them off in front of a hotel that wasn’t too classy. Sanji planned to have very loud sex and didn’t care about the neighbors. The ride had cooled his libido a bit, but he was no less interested in seeing Zoro naked. Beneath that hummed the gentle flutter of anticipation at the thought of finally being with him again.
Sanji paid for a room for several hours, knowing that they did have to meet up with their nakama sometime today. The room smelled musty, had yellowed smokers walls, a cracked window, a rickety dresser, and suspiciously blood-stained carpeted floor. But the bed was big and looked clean, the room had an ensuite bath, and Sanji was alone with Zoro, in private. He didn’t really care about anything else.
“Take your clothes off, marimo. Let me see what you’ve done to yourself,” Sanji instructed as he released the bubble packages in the corner of the room. He deflated the wine and food, setting the items on the scarred dresser across from the bed, beside an ashtray, an ice bucket, and a wrapped paper cup.
Zoro leaned his katanas against the dresser and unbound his red sash. “Only wine?”
“Didn’t know I’d be running into you.” Sanji picked up the ice bucket. “Better be naked by the time I get back.”
Sanji left Zoro in the room and headed down the shabby hall to the ice maker. He curled his lip when he saw the state of it, but as he wasn’t adding it to a drink, the ice would work fine. He scooped a full bucket before returning to the room. He let himself in with the key and was greeted by the delicious sight of Zoro coming out of the ensuite, completely naked. Sanji salivated immediately. “Fuck, you’ve gotten big.”
Zoro glanced down at himself as he wandered closer and shrugged. “I guess.”
Sanji set the ice bucket on the dresser, shoved the wine in the ice, and practically pounced on Zoro. Sanji’s heart hammered in his chest, not just from desire but from the thrill of seeing Zoro naked, of being with him again. Zoro allowed himself to be shoved backwards until he fell onto the bed, his feet still planted on the floor. Sanji straddled Zoro’s muscular thighs, fingers tracing over Zoro’s chest with admiration and lust. “Your pecs are huge,” Sanji said with a soft laugh. “Were you weightlifting entire islands?”
“No. Just training.” Zoro went to grasp Sanji’s waist but hesitated. “Uh, can I touch you?”
“You’d better,” Sanji said.
Zoro’s hands settled on Sanji’s now narrow waist, cinched tighter by the corset. He frowned. “I can almost wrap my hands around you entirely.”
Sanji was too distracted by Zoro’s new, more muscular figure to care about his own. His fingers traced down Zoro’s washboard abs. “You’re fucking gorgeous.” Zoro blushed and Sanji’s heart skipped a beat. Two years hadn’t changed the fact that Zoro was still shy about receiving compliments. “I missed you, you stupid asshole.”
Zoro’s lips curved in the corners bashfully. “Yeah?”
“Fuck, yeah.” Sanji stretched down until his mouth was millimeters from Zoro’s and his breasts were crushed against Zoro’s massive chest. “Thought about your dumb ass every day. And now you’re here,” he said with an emotional catch to his voice. “You’re finally here.”
He closed the scant distance between them and pressed their lips together. Zoro’s breath hitched, his hands tightening instinctively around Sanji’s waist. Sanji’s pulse quickened at the contact, a rush of love and affection rising his chest as he reminded Zoro how to kiss. Zoro caught on quickly, his tongue brushing against Sanji’s, tentatively at first, then bolder as his confidence returned. It was messy, imperfect, and Sanji never wanted it to end. It had been two years since he’d last felt Zoro’s lips against his own. Two years of longing to feel this body beneath him. Two years of not hearing Zoro’s dumb voice, of not fighting with him or fucking him. Two years of knowing that Zoro was out there, somewhere, getting stronger but not within Sanji’s reach. Two years of lonely nights and fevered dreams of remembrance.
Their mouths moved against each other in a slow, smoldering kiss, erasing the years, reigniting the passion that had been buried by distance and time. The kiss was deep, searching, and raw, stoking the fire that had always burned between them, whether fighting each other or coming together in bed.
Sanji felt heat rising, arousal returning. His mouth moved intently against Zoro’s, teeth grazing, tongues twining in titillating dance. He could feel his nipples hardening, a pressure growing at the apex of his thighs. He ground down upon Zoro and moaned deep in his chest. He felt the hard button of his temporary clit slide back and forth and it felt so good.
Sanji rocked his hips, seeking more friction against that spot. He could feel Zoro hardening beneath him, the panties he wore separating them. He tried to keep up with the kiss, but his brain was too focused on the intoxicating sensation his movements were creating between his legs. He moaned again, circling his hips, moving faster against Zoro’s erection, feeling the hump of the thick length roll against his clit. Zoro’s fingers tightened around his back, scratching the material of his corset. Sanji started panting against Zoro’s lips, heat radiating from his body, his breasts tingling where they pressed against Zoro’s chest. The desire to come was rising, growing stronger, centered entirely on that single spot. He rocked harder, thighs tensing, eyelids squeezed shut, as the pleasure built and built and built…
Climax hit Sanji with a gasp, his body jolting, spasming, rising right off of Zoro’s chest. It wasn’t a wave, it was nearly instantaneous, and the pressure against his clit immediately felt like it was too much, too sensitive. His thighs trembled as aftershocks rippled through him, nerves sparking with every tiny shift. He felt wet, loose, and had a hard time catching his breath. He pressed his face beside Zoro’s cheek, swallowing past the dryness in his throat. “Holy fuck, that felt good.”
Zoro hummed softly, his hand stroking Sanji’s back. The touch was soothing, but beneath it, Sanji could still feel Zoro’s arousal, the restrained tension coiled in his muscles, the hard line of his body pressed against Sanji. It made Sanji shiver. He gathered himself with effort and sat up, breath still a little unsteady. Zoro’s eye met his, dark and hungry, and the heat in that gaze shot straight down Sanji’s spine.
Sanji reached behind him to nimbly undo the fastenings on the corset. His breasts spilled free as he removed the garment and dropped it onto the bed beside him. He grabbed Zoro’s hands and pressed them over his breasts, smirking as his nipples tingled faintly against Zoro’s palms. “I’ve always wanted to fuck someone’s breasts, but I’ll take you fucking mine instead.”
“Uh, okay.” Zoro’s bewildered expression was downright adorable, and he just sat there, motionless, breasts in hand like he’d been given a pair of melons at the market. Sanji’s lips twitched. Zoro really didn’t know what to do with a woman. Then again, he hadn’t known what to do with a man either until Sanji had taught him.
“Idiot,” Sanji said fondly before moving off Zoro’s lap. Zoro’s erection immediately sprang upright from his green furred groin. Sanji wrapped his hand around it with zero hesitation, giving it a slow stroke that earned a hiss and a sharp buck of Zoro’s hips. “Did you jerk off thinking about me these past two years?”
Zoro blushed a brilliant pink, which was an answer enough. Chuckling, Sanji let go, leaned back on the bed, and cupped his breasts. “Straddle my waist and stick your cock between them.”
Still blushing, Zoro sat up and clambered over him, positioning his erection in the soft cleft of Sanji’s breasts. Sanji pressed them together, watching Zoro’s face. “Now, fuck them.”
Confusion creased Zoro’s brow again. “Just… move my hips?”
“Yes, dumbass. Like you’re fucking my ass. Or my mouth.”
“Oh. Okay.” Zoro drew his hips back and thrust forward. “Like this?”
Sanji gave him a slight nod. “Keep going.”
Zoro didn’t need more encouragement. He started moving with more intent, fucking Sanji’s breasts in steady strokes. Sanji watched, amused and a little mesmerized, as the head of Zoro’s cock slipped in and out between the soft mounds. It looked hot as hell. But truthfully, it didn’t feel like much more than warm skin sliding against skin. “Is this actually doing anything for you?” he asked, more curious than critical.
“Eh. A hand is better,” Zoro said, as he continued thrusting into Sanji’s chest.
“Well, shit. There pops that fantasy.” Sanji let go of his breasts with a sigh. Zoro froze mid-thrust, looking down at him like he wasn’t sure if he’d messed up. Sanji gave him a playful smirk. “At least there’s still my pussy.”
Zoro blinked. “Oh. Do you want me to fuck it now?”
Sanji was bemused by how blasé Zoro was about this whole gender swap situation. Sanji would probably have died from a nosebleed if Zoro had been hit by Iva’s devil fruit power. “Hop off a second. Let me get more comfortable.”
Zoro moved without complaint, settling on the edge of the bed. His cock stood upright from his groin like a mini mast, flushed and damp at the tip. Sanji’s gaze lingered over him. Zoro might be a dumb brute, but was also damned attractive, especially now that he’d bulked up. The casual way he just sat there, hard and waiting, like they weren’t doing anything out of the ordinary, made Sanji’s chest tighten with a mix of affection and arousal.
Sanji shed the skirt and panties he wore, leaving on his garters, stockings, and boots. The delicate black lace bow was still tied around his neck. He pushed himself further up the bed until his head was resting on a pillow. He spread his thighs. Looking down at himself, he thought he looked really sexy. Dark, golden hair covered his pussy and he felt wet to the touch. Although that pressure hadn’t returned to his clit, he still wanted to feel Zoro in him, feel what it was like to be fucked as a woman. He crooked his finger at Zoro. “C’mere, marimo.”
Zoro crawled up the bed, between Sanji’s thighs, until his cockhead was resting against Sanji’s groin. Sanji grasped his length and guided him to the right opening. Sanji hooked his long legs around Zoro’s hips. A tingle of anticipation coiled in Sanji as his nether lips kissed Zoro’s cockhead. “Push it in,” Sanji said, as his heart began racing.
Zoro watched Sanji’s face as he slid effortlessly into Sanji’s wet pussy. Sanji’s eyes widened at the stretch, the feel of Zoro’s length filling him. It felt incredible – pleasurable, exciting, and deeply familiar. The connection that he’d been longing for surged back with overwhelming force.
Too bad it basically felt like Zoro sticking his cock in Sanji’s ass. Only it was self-lubricating.
Zoro grunted with pleasure, though, so it gave Sanji hope that being inside a woman might feel different. He’d never experienced it, not from lack of trying before Zoro had stolen his heart. But between the nosebleeds and the non-reciprocation of his affection, it simply hadn’t happened. He’d had more luck with the guys wanting a quick fuck or blow in the Baratie restroom. He’d been fortunate that he’d had Carne and Patty in his life while going through puberty, two of the butchest gay men he’d met at that point. Otherwise, he would have locked himself in a closet forever to hide, for thinking he was less of a man because he liked guys, too.
Zoro started moving his hips, drawing back and thrusting in. It did feel fantastic to Sanji, of that there was no question. Zoro wore the feels-good-grimace on his face, a positive sign. “What’s it feel like?” Sanji asked him, urging him on with a booted heel against Zoro’s lower back.
“Feels like I’m fucking you,” Zoro said gruffly, his voice low and rough, with something softer beneath.
“Yeah, but the same or different?” Sanji pressed. “I know it’s been two years, but you’re fucking my pussy, mosshead. Totally different hole.”
“Similar,” Zoro said, picking up the pace as he found the rhythm that he liked. “Softer, maybe. Not so tight.”
“Ah, fuck.” Sanji sighed, a little disappointed. “Here I’d built it all up in my head that it’d be magical and it’s not that different from fucking in the ass.”
Zoro’s hips started to slow. “Should I stop?”
“No. Still feels great. And Iva deserves it.” Sanji slid his hands up Zoro’s bulging arms, over his shoulders, and up his neck to his ears. He lightly brushed his fingers along the shells of Zoro’s ears, which were an erogenous zone for Zoro.
Zoro’s shoulders trembled at the touch and he surged forward again. “Who’s Iva?”
“Person who did this to me.” Sanji shifted beneath Zoro, rolling his hips upward to change Zoro’s angle. Zoro’s pubic bone bumped against Sanji’s clit, sending a sharp, pleasurable pressure that made Sanji gasp. “Oh fuck, yeah, there we go. Keep fucking me, marimo.”
Zoro grunted again in acknowledgement and picked up a steady rhythm. Sanji moaned softly, thighs tightening around Zoro. With each thrust, Zoro’s newly massive pecs jiggled, matching the bounce of Sanji’s own breasts. Sanji placed one hand on his breast, the other on Zoro’s pec. They felt almost the same. Sanji's breast was softer and fuller, but not by much. He had to admit, women were undeniably beautiful and made him horny, but the sex itself wasn’t all that different. He wasn’t missing out by being with Zoro alone.
The realization made Sanji happy. He loved Zoro. He had no interest in anyone else. Still, he sometimes found himself fantasizing about women, flipping through pictures in spank magazines, and feeling a flicker of guilt. Now, he knew there was nothing special about it. Sex was sex. And sex with Zoro was undeniably fantastic.
Sanji let go of his breast and pressed that hand to Zoro’s other pec, squeezing and fondling both. Zoro was focused on him with the same intense concentration that he gave everything, his eye narrowed and his jaw clenched, as he pumped into Sanji. Each thrust drove his pelvis into Sanji’s clit, hitting that thin line between just right and not quite enough. The scent of sex thickened in the air, and the bed squeaked beneath them in a steady rhythm.
Sanji dropped one hand back to his breast, pinching and rolling his nipple, while the other slipped between their bodies. He pressed his fingers against his clit, rubbing it as Zoro’s thrusts bumped against the back of his hand. His eyes fluttered closed, pleasure spiking from the added stimulation. The tingle coiled tighter between his legs.
Zoro's rhythm began to falter, his breath coming faster. Sanji flicked his fingers from side to side over his clit, teased his nipple harder, the pressure building higher. The feel of Zoro inside him, the fact that they were finally together again, stoked the fire even more. When the orgasm hit, Sanji’s whole body arched, convulsing in pure ecstasy, his inner muscles clenching tight around Zoro with a sharp gasp.
“Fuck,” Zoro panted. His hips bucked wildly before one final thrust buried him deep, and a high-pitched sound escaped his throat as he came, cock pulsing inside Sanji. He collapsed with a satisfied grunt, landing heavily on Sanji’s chest like a deadweight.
“Ow, fucker, you’re heavy,” Sanji grunted. His arms were pinned between them and he felt squashed. Their current size difference erased any thoughts of a post-coital snuggle. “Get off, you oaf.”
Zoro snuffled against Sanji’s neck, then shoved himself up and off Sanji, flopping onto the bed beside him. Sanji finally felt like he could breathe again. He lay there, limp and spent, waiting for the post-orgasmic lethargy that normally settled over him. He tapped his finger against his belly. His cigarettes were calling to him.
With a sigh, Sanji got up, retrieved his smokes, and lit one up. He uncorked the wine to let it breathe and arranged the food on a plate he’d also brought. He carried the plate over to the bed and set it on Zoro’s rock-solid stomach like it was a tray. Zoro cracked his eye open, glanced at the plate, and closed it again with a grunt. “Hn.”
Sanji took advantage of the ensuite and washed up, pausing to study his reflection in the mirror above the sink. His feminine face was still flushed from sex, blonde hair tousled. He stepped back to take in more of himself, still clad in only garters, stockings, and boots, with the black lace bow around his neck. He smirked. He looked damned good. He’d have to stop by the clothing store once he was back in his own skin and get a replacement set of clothing in his proper size. That bastard Iva would be proud of him.
Sanji exited the bathroom, catching sight of Zoro sprawled on the bed. His heart leapt at seeing Zoro, still not used to having him right here. Then, his face softened, contentment settling in his chest. His reunion with Zoro wasn’t what he’d imagined, considering he had gender swapped. But he’d still gotten to reconnect with Zoro in the most basic way, to feel his touch, to have him close again. Sanji traced a finger along the delicate bow at his neck, almost feeling the phantom weight of Zoro over him, in him. Despite the usual circumstances, he wouldn’t change anything.
Sanji walked over to the dresser, poured himself a glass of wine, grabbed the ashtray, and returned to the bed. Zoro was snoring lightly. Sanji flicked his nipple before picking up a slice of brie and apple and popping them into his mouth.
Zoro grunted awake and glared. “What was that for?”
“If I can’t sleep, you can’t sleep,” Sanji said, smirking. “Have some food.”
Muttering about annoying cooks, Zoro propped a pillow under his head and snagged a piece of hard salami from the plate. He studied Sanji as he ate. “It’s still kinda weird seeing you like this. But, whatever. If you’re happy, I’m happy.”
Sanji’s insides squished at the flat-out acceptance. He should probably tell Zoro it was only temporary. “Shitty swordsman, being sweet.”
Zoro blushed faintly. “S’only the truth.”
Sanji leaned down and pressed a kiss to Zoro’s shoulder. “I’m happy to be back with you, marimo.”
Zoro grunted, his favorite form of communication, blush deepening. “Do you think everyone’s here yet?”
“Robin and Luffy were the only two still not here when I spoke with Shakky,” Sanji said, stacking a thin cracker with a piece of capicola and Gruyere. “We can go and check again, if you want. See if we can find the others, too.”
“Maybe. In a bit.” Zoro rested his hand, awkward and bashful, on Sanji’s cross-legged knee. “Kinda want it to be just us for a while.”
Fuck, he loved this man. “Sounds perfect to me.”
They finished the rest of the food, polished off two bottles of wine, and swapped stories about their two years apart. Later, Sanji brought out the toys he’d bought for himself and used them on Zoro to much vocal delight. They had sex one final time with Sanji still in his female body, Sanji riding Zoro, Zoro looking nowhere but into his eyes.
Afterward, they cleaned up in the ensuite. Sanji redressed in the corset, skirt, and panties, artfully mussed his hair, and winked at his reflection. He might be meeting up with his nakama as a woman, but he didn’t care. He knew exactly who he was. And Zoro still loved him no matter what he looked like, which was the only thing that truly mattered.
“C’mon, marimo,” Sanji said once they were ready to go. He slid his hand into Zoro’s, earning a shy smile in return. “Our friends are waiting for us.”
A few months down the Grand Line…
“He could have come with us, but he didn’t!” Nami exclaimed, as she handed Luffy the note Sanji had given her. “He said it was his problem and to tell you that he would be back.”
“Sanji’s going to get married?!” Luffy exclaimed with befuddlement. He opened the note, read it, and said, “This isn’t for me.” He passed it to Zoro, who was standing nearby with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face.
“I’m sorry. If only I could’ve kept him here until everyone arrived,” Nami said.
“It sounds like it was Sanji who prevented you from holding him back,” Robin said. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“But what if we never see him again?” Chopper cried.
“That’s perfectly fine,” Zoro sniped as he took the note. “We’re on a course that can’t be changed. We’re set up for an imminent fight with Kaidou and now he goes to give Big Mom the stink eye. It’s nothing short of idiocy, that curly-browed freak!” He thought about not reading the note, because he was pissed off and hurt that Sanji had left to get married. Like Zoro meant nothing to him.
But Zoro was a bigger man than that, and he unfolded the note.
Warn Zeff that he’s in danger. Tell Zoro that I’m not about to marry anyone but him. That idiot is an insecure baby. Stay safe. I’ll meet you in Wano as soon as I’ve dealt with this shit. Sanji.
Zoro’s heart clenched, and he looked at Luffy, the note trembling slightly in his hand. Luffy smiled knowingly at him. “Let’s go and get our cook back.”
End