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There were a few things Sanji detested more than overcooked scallops, loud chewing, and people who didn't use coasters.
Blind dates.
Still, when Nami had given him that look - the one she used when she was dead set on something, and there was no room for discussion - he had agreed.
Not because he trusted her taste (he absolutely did not) but because, deep down, he was tired.
Tired of the way his life - perfectly plated, carefully curated - felt... empty.
So here he was.
Sitting at a corner table at a small fusion bistro, Nami had chosen for its "neutral territory" vibe, adjusting the cuffs of his pressed navy dress shirt, one leg crossed over the other, and silently wondering if punctuality had died with chivalry.
It was already twenty minutes past seven, well beyond the agreed time.
Then, finally, the door slammed open.
And in walked an Alpha who looked like he'd been summoned straight from the Stone Age.
He just scanned the place and stomped toward Sanji's table.
"You're the Witch's French buddy?"
Sanji blinked, slowly.
Took in the three earrings, the scar running down his eye, the thick neck and muscle-wrapped arms, and that tangle of green, more wild grass than hair.
"Charming," Sanji muttered under his breath. "And you must be the caveman."
Zoro snorted, dropping heavily into the seat opposite him without waiting to be invited. "Better than a stuck-up in a satin shirt."
Sanji smiled, tight but polite, and folded his hands over the table. "It's silk. And I can see subtlety's not your strong suit."
"Didn't come here to be subtle. Came here for the free meal."
Sanji's eye twitched.
Nami had been the first friend he'd made after moving to Japan years ago.
They'd met at a crowded train station where Sanji was hopelessly lost, trying to figure out which train would get him to his new high school in the middle of what felt like a maze of flashing signs, unfamiliar sounds, and endless platforms. She'd helped him, and later they ran into each other again at language school.
They bonded over homesickness and terrible pronunciation, and she'd been precious to him ever since.
Which was exactly why he was sure she was playing some cruel prank on him, because on what planet was this mossheaded brute supposed to be a good match for him?
He took a deep, calming breath and reminded himself that murder was - tragically - illegal.
A waiter arrived before Sanji could run away, and for a moment, blessed civility reigned.
Zoro barely glanced at the menu, ordering meat - just meat. No more words.
Sanji, scandalized, ordered a wine pairing and a grilled sea bass with preserved lemon.
Zoro whistled after the waiter left. "All that fuss for some fish."
"Not my fault you order like you're still lost in the woods."
"Thanks."
"That wasn't a compliment."
Zoro grinned, lopsided, and suddenly Sanji was aware of two things: first, that this Alpha was a complete pain in the ass; and second, that he was also stupidly, infuriatingly hot.
The sleeves of Zoro's jacket had ridden up, revealing the veins of his forearms.
Sanji tried not to look, but Zoro had the kind of presence that demanded attention.
"So," Zoro said, leaning back in his chair, "you're the sous chef of that fancy place with the long-ass name?"
"Les Plumes de Mer, yes."
"Yeah. That one. Food's good."
Sanji's brow arched. "You've been?"
"Once. A few of my students treated me after a local competition. I nearly died trying to pronounce the menu, but the dessert kicked ass."
Sanji hesitated. "What did you have?"
Zoro frowned in concentration. "Some mousse thing. Had pistachios on top. Real smooth. Like... like punching cream."
Sanji blinked. That was his signature dessert. Something stirred in his chest - something small and annoying.
"You liked it?"
"Yeah." Zoro shrugged. "Didn't think I would. But it tasted like—" He paused. "I dunno. cozy? It reminded me of my adoptive father's pudding, which is ridiculous because he just used instant pudding powder mixed with milk, but it tasted exactly like that."
That shouldn't have made Sanji's heart skip.
The food arrived, interrupting the moment, and for several minutes, there was only the clinking of cutlery.
Surprisingly, Zoro ate pretty neatly and didn't make a sound. Sanji tried not to let it make his heart flutter again, but yeah, he failed.
"So," Sanji said between bites, "how did you end up dragged into this?"
Zoro wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
Sanji barely resisted the urge to scream, but at least his heart was grounded again, after skipping one too many beats for the mosshead.
"Nami. Said I needed to get laid. Or date. Whatever."
Sanji coughed on his wine.
"Classy," he said, wiping his lips with a napkin. "You sure know how to sweep someone off their feet."
"Worked, didn't it? You're still here." Zoro said, smirking. "So tell me more about you, curly."
Curly?
Sanji rolled his eyes. "Vinsmoke Sanji. Omega. Thirty. Sous chef. Hopeless romantic."
Zoro took a long swig of his beer before speaking. "Roronoa Zoro. Alpha. Thirty. Own a Kendo dojo in West Town. Hate crowds. Like naps and sex."
There was a pause. An awkward one. Then Sanji, lips twitching, asked, "Okay, what do you usually go for?"
Zoro shrugged. "Someone who doesn't talk so much."
"Shocker," Sanji muttered.
Zoro looked at him then - really looked, probably for the first time since he sat down. His gaze lingered, a little too intense.
"But I don't care if it's you, I guess."
Sanji blinked, thrown off. "…Is that so?"
"You've got a slight accent when you speak Japanese," Zoro said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "It's cute. And your voice is kinda calming. Wouldn't mind listening to it all day."
Sanji's eyes widened. He was flabbergasted and felt the warmth creep up his neck before he could stop it.
"Oh," he managed weakly.
Zoro raised a brow. "And you?"
Sanji cleared his throat, swirling his wine. "Usually…well-spoken Alphas. Polished and refined. You know—ones who use napkins properly."
Zoro grinned. "I must be your worst nightmare, huh?"
Sanji glanced over at him through half-lidded eyes - the way his shirt clung to his torso, the low rasp of his voice, those big hands.
His stomach flipped.
"Yes," he admitted. "You're something else."
.
.
.
They finished their meals in silence, though the tension hung between them.
When they stepped out onto the street, the air had cooled, but Sanji still felt too warm, and it definitely wasn't just the wine.
Zoro stretched, yawning. "You want me to walk you home or something?"
Sanji's mouth curled in a smirk. "I'll manage. You've already paid for the meal, so I'd say you've done enough 'civilized Alpha' for one night."
"Bet you can handle more uncivilized than that," Zoro said, though he definitely wasn't talking about manners.
Sanji stepped closer, just half a step.
"Oh. I don't know... can I?" he asked, the words rolling off his tongue with a sly tease.
Zoro's eye darkened, and he swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing.
"Hmm?" Sanji tilted his head, his golden hair catching the streetlamp light.
Zoro's good eye drifted over him, slowly tracing from his slender neck to collarbone, then down to his waist, lingering just a little longer than necessary before meeting Sanji's sapphire gaze again.
"Come find out," he demanded, not suggesting but commanding, with a growl barely held back.
Sanji's heart started to race.
He should've said no. He always said no on the first date, especially when the Alpha in question had all the delicacy of a wrecking ball.
But then Zoro licked his lips. And Sanji's instincts - long buried under etiquette and pretense - screamed yes.
Instead, he pulled out a cigarette, lit it with a flick, and exhaled slow smoke toward the night sky.
"I'll think about it," he said.
Zoro grinned like he'd already won.
.
.
.
It wasn't supposed to end like this.
Not with Sanji's back against Zoro's front door, breath hitching, cigarette long forgotten on the pavement, and his wrists pinned above his head by rough, sword-callused hands.
But here they were.
"Damn, curly," Zoro's breath ghosted over Sanji's lips as his knee slid between his thighs.
"I'm still thinking," Sanji whispered, even as his hips arched into the pressure like a traitor.
Zoro huffed a laugh and leaned in close enough for their noses to brush. "You're such a tease."
"Am I now?"
Zoro's teeth caught his bottom lip, biting just enough to sting before he pulled away.
"Inside. Now!"
Sanji's pride should've made him resist. But pride was a flimsy thing when your skin burned from being touched and not touched all at once.
They stumbled through the door, all heat and hunger, barely making it past the threshold before Zoro kicked the door shut with his foot and pressed Sanji up against the nearest wall.
It was nothing like what Sanji was used to.
He'd always had Alphas who lit candles and whispered praise beneath silk sheets. But Zoro wasn't like that at all.
He moved on instinct, like fight or fuck. And Sanji...
Sanji didn't realize how much he craved that.
"You wear too many goddamn layers." Zoro tugged at his shirt with impatient hands until he tore it open, buttons popping everywhere.
Sanji gasped, and an embarrassing amount of slick gushed out of him.
"Y-You mossheaded caveman…"
Zoro answered by dragging his tongue down Sanji's throat, and Sanji whined, fingers sinking into short green hair.
"Yes," Zoro growled. "Now watch this uncultured Alpha ruin your perfect little cunt."
Something cracked open inside Sanji.
He surged forward, lips crashing against Zoro's.
Their teeth knocked together in a messy, impatient kiss, all tongue and spit.
They fumbled their way to the bedroom, half-naked, dragging clothes behind them.
Zoro's apartment was unadorned: mats on the floor, swords on the wall, and the lingering scent of metal, but Sanji didn't care.
Because Zoro lifted him as if he weighed nothing, threw him onto the mattress, and followed like a predator.
"Last chance to run, curly."
Sanji smirked, one hand sliding down his chest, teasing just above the waistband of his briefs. "Only if you're chasing."
That was all it took.
Zoro sank to his knees at the edge of the bed, yanking Sanji down until his thighs were draped over broad shoulders.
He didn’t ask for permission or give a warning. Just dipped his tongue between Sanji's legs and devoured him like a starving Alpha.
Sanji choked on a moan.
Zoro's tongue was rough and all eager. His fingers dug into Sanji's smooth hips, holding him still as he licked his gushing hole like he meant to own him from the inside out.
The obscene, wet sounds echoed off the walls.
Sanji writhed, one hand fisting the sheets, the other tangled in Zoro's hair, pulling and pushing him shamelessly to steer his pleasure.
"P-putain, la manière dont tu me touches," he gasped, his head falling back. "You're a damn animal—"
Zoro growled against him, the vibration making the Omega's toes curl.
When Sanji came, spurting from his untouched cock, it was sudden and overwhelming.
He barely registered the sound he made - somewhere between a sob and a moan - as his back arched and stars exploded behind his eyes.
He was still shaking when Zoro pulled back, mouth glistening, eyes feral red.
Sanji barely had time to recover before Zoro climbed over him, pinning his wrists again with one hand while the other shoved his briefs down.
He was hard and flushed, leaking precome.
"No finesse," Sanji chuckled, half-drunk on the afterglow.
"You'll get finesse next time, pretty cook," Zoro grunted, lining himself up.
Next time.
The words lit something in Sanji's mind; it was terrifying but also oddly comforting.
"Then don't hold back, mosshead."
Zoro didn't.
He sheathed himself with one hard thrust, and Sanji cried out, back arching off the mattress.
The size wrecked him.
But damn, it felt good.
Sanji almost blacked out for a second.
Zoro's rhythm was ruthless, his hips snapping forward with brutal strength, breath hot against Sanji's neck.
"So tight—fuck—gorgeous little Omega—so fuckin' perfect..."
The Alpha panted into his skin, muttering curses and praise in the same breath.
Sanji bit his lip to keep from crying out too loud, the force of it shaking something loose inside him. His walls fluttered around Zoro, pulling him deeper, greedier.
He didn't remember when the headboard started banging. Didn't care.
Sanji clawed at Zoro's back, moaning his name like it was both a curse and a prayer.
Zoro bit into his shoulder, dangerously close to his gland marks, held his hips down, and fucked him like he wanted to breed him.
Oh, he wanted it so badly. He swore someday the Omega would be round with his pups.
The image pushed him over the edge, and when the Alpha came, it was with a groan that shook the room, his body spasming as he spilled inside, knot swelling and locking them together.
Sanji's body trembled, waves of pleasure crashing through him as he came again, clinging to Zoro.
They stayed like that for a long moment, sticky and tangled.
Finally, Zoro collapsed beside him, one arm draped over Sanji's waist, breath slowly evening out.
Sanji stared at the ceiling.
"Well," he said hoarsely, "as if it wasn't enough that we didn't use protection, you also had to knot me."
Zoro chuckled. "You're welcome, curly."
Sanji turned his head slowly. "You are really a caveman, huh?"
"I knew you could handle it," Zoro smirked, eyes still closed. "Look how well you took it."
His words were a cheeky reminder of their earlier talk, how he never doubted Sanji.
The Omega blushed, but his lips twitched.
"Go to sleep, mosshead." He turned his back, mindful of the knot still keeping them connected, but Zoro didn't even allow this little bit of distance between them, pulling him closer against his chest before his snoring started filling the room.
Sanji rolled his eyes, but couldn't stop smiling.
The next day, when Zoro woke up, Sanji was gone. But he had left his cigarettes behind, with his phone number scrawled on the packet.
Another rule he'd broken just for the caveman.