Finishing Touches Who: Zoro & Sanji Where: Oni Giri When: Week 1, Sunday, Evening. Why: Admiring the completion of their restaurant, Master and Slave plan for a grand opening. Warning: Cursing, name-calling, dirty talk, fluff, and a handjob.
This log has already been completed.
The athletic one-eyed man with tanned golden skin was silent, looking at the dining room around him and really taking in the whole eyeful. Wood, iron, dark, light, fine but not fancy. Nothing like the rural shack of a place he remembered selling ramen and rice balls when he was a kid, but it still had a certain warmth he thought he could get used to. They'd been building the place for months to reach this point, and the upstairs had been completed first, so they'd been able to live out of the second floor for a while already. But now that they'd had the furniture delivered, all of the utilities installed and turned on, and had the decorator come through to put in all of the little touches (even setting one of the tables with two complete place settings as an example) - this was the first time it looked like an actual restaurant to him. Their restaurant, he was still trying to get used to the idea. Like a retired bounty hunter had any business opening one.
But then, it wasn't really for him.
"Well? Say something about it already," Zoro prompted the other man, looking back at the blonde with a lift of his eyebrows.
Normally the lanky blonde tended to play it closer to the chest. Cool, and calm. Don't draw attention. But for one of the very few times since Zoro and Sanji had been reunited, the cook was letting out exactly just how excited he was.
Sanji ran over and leapt the counter in a single bound. He was twisting and turning, and gleefully exclaiming at all of the new shinies he was seeing. And there were so many. Only his shitty mentor had ever had this kind of tools. And maybe Iva-chan. But--Ohhh! and look at those knives! They're so sharp and well-ballanced! He picked one up and flipped it once in the air, still catching it by the handle.
Aside from ignoring his Master, Sanji had lost all sense of pride, squealing and flailing everywhere like a child at Christmas. Stupid cook couldn't see anything but his new kitchen. Zoro should have seen this coming.
It almost made the past couple of months sneezing out sawdust from his muzzle and having construction sounds pounded into his sensitive ears worth it. Almost.
Zoro moved to lean over one of the seats directly in front of the chef's station with more poise than his Slave. "Oi, Sanji. I'm asking you, do you like it or not? I'm the one who bought it, you could at least pretend I exist!" As if he didn't know the answer already.
"Kusoyarō," Sanji replied. He leaned over the counter and let his forehead bump against Zoro's. "It's amazing." You're amazing. "So shut up and let me enjoy it." He smiled contently before adding, "What will you have?"
"Tako," Zoro rumbled back. He was sure that some of the others would try to tell him he'd spoiled his Slave, ruined him, letting him talk like that in private. If that's all Sanji was - someone to clean his house half naked and get fucked raw for forgetting to dust the mantle, someone to be seen but not heard - maybe they would be right. But 'they' would have no idea what they were even talking about.
"You're either my appetizer or my dessert," Zoro answered, cupping the tattoo on the side of Sanji's neck for a moment as he leaned in and bit those smiling pink lips, sucking Sanji's lower lip for a glance of his teeth. "I haven't decided which. You could at least give me a menu."
Menus, right. He'd been so excited by everything that he'd forgotten Zoro hadn't had much say in the food side of the restaurant. Sanji stood back up and began looking around. After locating the menus he returned to hand one to Zoro. Leaving Zoro to peruse the English and Japanese laminated portfolio of Sanji's skills, the cook began removing his jacket and unbuttoning his sleeves to roll them up. A moment later, he was slipping an apron over his head, and turning on the stove.
Zoro scanned the menu, supposing he ought to know what Sanji was going to be making around here. He himself had simple tastes - a nice big fish and rice with beer or sake was all he needed to enjoy a meal. Sanji needed bigger challenges than that, though, or his skills would rust away to nothing. One of the reasons for the restaurant.
"We could open any time now," he put to Sanji, flipping his menu to the next page.
"We could," he said and nodded. It had been some time since Sanji had cooked for a group of people, and he was itching to try out his skills. He had no doubt his food would be loved, but it was always so nice to see the reactions on everyone's face. "We'd need to decide what to do about staff. If we're going to have a big opening, we'll probably need someone to help me with waiting at least."
"Enh. It will have to be a big opening," Zoro admitted with a sound of mild annoyance. It would be a lot of fuss, and a lot of people. But it was expected around here, and he hadn't gone to all this trouble just to have Sanji's talents overlooked. "You know how these supernatural elites are. I'm supposed to invite the other wolves and their slaves. You can't ignore the vampires if you're opening a business - they're too influential here with the Colony. And the witches might be the worst of them. They feel like they have to try harder to prove they're powerful because there aren't as many of them," he summed it up, folding the menu back up again and sliding it aside. "We'll just have to invite the whole damned town."
"I'll hire a few extra people just for the night," he assured Sanji. "There could be a mutiny if the wrong one of those Masters goes five minutes without getting their glass refilled."
Sanji nodded. He wasn't looking forward to meeting the vampires, or dealing with the witches if they were near the kind he'd run across in his past. But he was never the one to be racist. Or to refuse anyone the pleasure of his cooking. "No kidding. Especially if that wrong one was you," he said with a smirk.
"What? I'm sitting myself in one corner with the largest bottle of sake we've got and leering at the cook all night." A slight exaggeration. Zoro knew he'd be expected to talk to people. Who knows, there might be a few faces he'd actually enjoy seeing there. But he didn't 'mingle'. Sanji would just have to be extra charming. "I'll use a glass for the special occasion, but I can do my own refilling."
Not really an exaggeration there. He'd gotten used to drinking directly from the bottle in the years he'd spent at sea, and he could put it back without getting sloppy.
"Mm. Nice to know you can put some manners on every once in a while." The cook absentmindedly began to pull out various kinds of fish. Since Zoro was taking so long to decide, Sanji would make him some sashimi to snack on while he thought about it. "Though the thought of you staring at me while drinking my best sake all night is so enticing..." Actually, it kind of was. He liked being in a room full of people when Zoro was there undressing him with his eyes. Especially if Sanji could play it fun and breezy until Zoro suddenly decided to act on his thoughts.
"There's nothing wrong with my manners. And if the guests don't like them, I'll be happy to show them our new doors at throwing speed." Zoro's nose flared slightly, distinguishing the ingredients Sanji was using from the rest that were still in storage by their potency in the air, their already shifting temperature, and the way that the slight traces of oil from the skin of Sanji's hands intermingled with them. Everything was still very fresh, which was a good sign. "And you would love the attention," he added as a certainty, intently watching Sanji's face instead of his hands as the blonde worked with the food.
Sanji shrugged, conceding the point. He would, probably. "Pft. From a marimo kaijū like you?" He definitely would. "You decide what you want yet? Or am I just feeding you whatever I feel like?"
"Ingrate." It didn't really matter to Zoro; it always tasted good, coming from Sanji. And not just because he was biased. Zoro lifted reached for a pair of chopsticks and tried his sashimi. ...For being in a landlocked region, it was incredible. "The sea bass and grilled crab."
"Mm. I was planning on just making that for you anyway. You're lucky." He shifted his knife to make a slice, and then shifted to adjust the heat on the grill. "So, what about seating. I'm assuming your leaders get prime real estate," he motioned to the seats directly in front and beside of him, since everyone wanted to be next to the cook at these sorts of places. "What about the other alpha wolves? Are they getting higher preferential treatment?"
"I'm a swordsman and a wolf, not a party planner. Why do I care which table they sit and at who sits next to who? I'd rather just throw some rice balls in the middle of them and see who eats." Zoro frowned at the idea of it.
Sanji might be right, though. Some people had nothing better to do than care about these sorts of things. Come to think of it, the seating of the slaves might turn into another irritating problem... "Give the Salvatores and that Witch Donovan the best seats. The rest of the Masters can either have place settings here at the chef's station or the tables," Zoro decided. "Slaves can have stools positioned behind their Master and get what it's decided they can have. One Slave for each Master, I'm not feeding their entire stables. And I'm not breaking up the Alphas and the Betas. They'll either eat together or start a fight, but it's no different than them all choosing to live in Crescent Hills in the first place."
Sanji continued preparing Zoro's meal, looking up every once in a while to watch Zoro as he thought about their situation. "You're pretty hot when you use your head, tough guy."
"I pretended it was a battle strategy," Zoro admitted. "Pour me a beer so I can get the taste out of politics out of my mouth."
Sanji chuckled softly. "Hai, Zoro," he said fondly, apparently in too good a mood to bite back at him to wait until he'd gotten served his dinner. The beer was at the bar so he set down his cooking utensils to go get a beer for his lover. When he came back, he slid onto the stool next to Zoro and leaned in for a kiss. An honest and soft moment of thanks while he nuzzled close. Sometimes he really loved the shitty bastard.
Zoro didn't comment on Sanji's glowing, dreamy expression and sudden urge to be exceptionally affectionate. He pressed a hand at the small of Sanji's back, holding him in the kiss for a few prolonged moments more, deepening it, then keeping the blonde close as their lips slowly parted. "Now that everyone in town is going to get to eat your cooking, I'm going to start being jealous, rabu kokku."
"Chch," Sanji clucked. Zoro knew as well as he did that the swordsman had nothing to be jealous of. He closed his eyes and turned his head to the side to display Zoro's mark on his throat. "But if some sexy vampire lady comes and tries to sweep me away from you, you may need to remind everyone just who I belong to..."
"My claws and fangs will be sharper than hers. And unlike some idiots, I'm not above fighting a woman." Zoro's free hand slid beneath Sanji's apron and across the swell of Sanji's thigh, warm and heavy through the fabric of those pants. He leaned in to rest his teeth over his mark of ownership on Sanji's neck, jaws tightening into a dull bite around the throb of Sanji's heart he heard echoed there, and he gave a soft grunt of satisfaction in it.
He wasn't threatened about Sanji working the restaurant, or he never would have helped him open it. No one could take Sanji away from him, and not because of the ink set into his skin. But Zoro did enjoy the excuse to remind Sanji of why it was he'd let Zoro own him in the first place.
So strange to hear Zoro go to claws and fangs instead of steel. He wasn't sure he'd ever get used to that. He couldn't argue with the sexiness of their situation, though. Closing his eyes, he thought about how Zeff had been planning on turning Sanji when he was older, and how weird it was now that it was Zoro who had been turned.
After Zoro had held him long enough to thoroughly arouse Sanji, the cook 'gave' to the other man. "Hai, Hai. Zoro no Sanji. No one else's."
The transition from steel to bone and keratin hadn't been as hard for Zoro to adapt to as one might've guessed. The only trick was in learning how to fight without the benefit of extended reach.
Zoro released his bite, his hand leading higher inside Zoro's thigh until the backs of his knuckles were riding the zipper of Sanji's fly. "Hn. Is it going to ruin dinner if I ravage you right now?"
Sanji groaned, "Yes," he said with regret. After a beat he added, "But I can turn the heat on low, you can ravage me, and then we can eat afterwards so I can get my energy back up before desert..."
"You know I would eat it even if it was burned to hell or as tough as leather. I'd use my canine teeth if I had to." Food waste was a very serious consideration in Sanji's eyes. Zoro was less reverent about food in general, but he agreed that it was just stupid to throw something away when it wasn't necessary. He held the cup of his wide hand around the clothed shape of Sanji's cock as he negotiated, his short dark hair seeming to bristle more for the red glint in his eye as the light caught it just so. "I've eaten worse than even your shittiest cooking," he told the curve of Sanji's ear before nipping at Sanji's earlobe. His hand applied a careful squeeze of Sanji's crotch, letting him know he was trapped.
"Teme..." Sanji gasped softly. He should have expected this, really... His own mistake for starting to cook without thinking about where his excitement would take them both. He shifted into the hand, rubbing himself on Zoro's palm while groaning his simultaneous pleasure and displeasure with their predicament. Stuck between a grill and a hard swordsman.
Not like that would stop him, though. "You could play under my apron while I finish cooking, so long as we're tidy... See how well I can cook under pressure?"
"I could." The metal of Sanji's zipper scratched apart in a whisper as Zoro opened the front of his pants, his hand parting the flap on the briefs and drawing out Sanji's cock, nestling it firmly into his warm grip.
"Zo-rooo," Sanji whined, parting his legs and tipping back until he had to hold on to the counter to stay upright.
"You're going to come for me first, Sanji." However long that took him - no matter what happened to his fish. The hand that had been on Sanji's back slid upward, until he was fisting the back of Sanji's blonde hair, pulling forcefully to draw Sanji's head back on his neck and leave him exposed. Zoro had Sanji's shoulderblades firmly aligned with his forearm; he wasn't going anywhere, accidentally or intentionally, until Zoro let him go. "Your first memory in the restaurant."
Zoro's hold on Sanji's dick eased enough that he could slide the cuff of his calloused swordsman's palm up and down the length of Sanji's shaft, Sanji's tender tip being frisked against the stiffly starched cotton of the apron draped over his lap with each motion.
Sanji would deny the undignified squeak that left his lips if accused of it later. He swallowed hard through his parted lips, adam's apple bobbing where Zoro had exposed it. He shifted, trying to regain responsibilities for his own balance, but eventually realised he'd just have to leave it in Zoro's hands.
Which was a fact Sanji was absolutely fine with--even a little turned on by--but one he wasn't quite sure he'd ever get used to. Once upon a time, he and Zoro had been on even footing. Sanji had even watched everything he loved sink to the bottom of the ocean while saving Zoro's life.
And then Zoro had been turned. And their relationship went from Sanji gifting the swordsman with his obedience, to Zoro being fully able to take what he wanted from Sanji without a thought.
Not that he would...
Full moon notwithstanding, Sanji was certain Zoro would stop if Sanji told him to. But that was the kicker: more than he wanted the pleasure Zoro gave him as a reward to continue, Sanji was absolutely delighted by the simple act of Zoro's will superseding his own. It actually gave him /joy/ to be the slave to Zoro's master.
Not that he'd ever admit it.
"You're such a fucking asshole," Sanji swore softly with absolutely no bite to the words. He groaned, hips bucking with Zoro's movements, and then he continued, "I go through all this trouble to make you a nice meal, and now you're going to make me burn it..." He already knew he could salvage it, but if he didn't come up with something to complain about, someone might begin to suspect he actually loved Zoro and the way he treated him.
Pirates, sailors, and any type of man who spent long periods of time cut off from society to drift at sea had the foulest mouths. By those standards, the names that Zoro called Sanji and vice versa didn't even rate as irritable. It was just how they talked. Complaints and trash-talking were a part of it, too. They'd never had to explain it to one another; it just was, and it worked fine for them. Especially sharing the same first language and another besides, they never had to puzzle through translation.
A lot had changed for the both of them, in a few short years. But some things always remained the same.
"If you begged me very sweetly, Ahō Raburi, I might change my mind," Zoro smirked. The caresses of his hand certainly didn't hesitate, anyway. Sanji's cock was familiar to him by now, and he knew how to touch his slave to shove him ever closer to the edge. He milked Sanji's lean, elegant dick, rolling his palm to make the tip of him cry a bead of transparent wetness into the moist-staining apron.
"Ch... Temē... Tennenkinenbutsu..." Sanji was beyond thought or sense making. Zoro knew how to push all of his buttons just right, and making him cum was just a thing that was going to happen. "Zoro," he added softly, fingers curling tighter on the edge of the counter. "Zoro...ah!" Okay, this was a thing that was not just happening, but happening soon. He opened his eyes to look at Zoro's face, panting like a wonton slut, and fully enjoying it. He was so close... He could either jump both feet over the edge, or Zoro could stop there and Sanji could prolong that feeling of falling. "Zoro?" he asked, looking for permission or direction.
"You'll let me fuck your mouth after dinner," Zoro explained, giving him a kind of permission. His eye had flared fully red and glowing, staring back at Sanji with naked lust and maybe something more. He leaned in and licked his way into Sanji's mouth, feeding his cook with hungry thrusts of tongue and tight sucking of the rough kiss as he jerked him steadily off.
Those eyes and that mouth on top of that swordmaster's grip, and Sanji was done for. Pumping unabashedly into his hand, aching for more and giving all he had, his cries were only muffled by the crush of Zoro's mouth. Thinking about how well he'd suck Zoro off after dinner--maybe while the other was eating a messy desert off his back--Sanji came. Suddenly, hot, and fully.
Zoro smothered Sanji's cries with his mouth until Sanji began to quiet, savoring the tang of Sanji's spunk on the air and the gradual relaxation of Sanji's lovely cock in his hand as Zoro stopped tugging him. He released Sanji's mouth and loosened the fist of his hair to let the blonde have a fresh breath, his fingers busying themselves plucking apart the tied apron strings instead. He slid the loop of the apron over Sanji's neck with an expression of approval, and used the cloth to wipe up the residue of the mess Sanji had made into it already. "The first linens for the hamper, eh chef?"
Zoro thought he'd keep abusing this 'firsts' thing with the restaurant for a while.
Sanji was catching his breath, but clucked his tongue at Zoro. He sat straighter and leaned in to pepper a gentle kiss on Zoro's lips. First time anyone had called him 'Chef'. "Such a pervert," he breathed, flushed and pleased.
Zoro had used that word on purpose. He'd always called Sanji 'cook' before, and probably still would. (Or "kusokokku," "sukebe kokku," "ahō kokku.") But this was going to be his place. Sanji was getting a promotion in rank, at least as far as the restaurant was concerned.
"See what's left of my fish," Zoro told him, tucking Sanji back into his briefs and zipping up his pants with a nuzzle to Sanji's temple. Zoro didn't used to do that, before he had been changed, and had felt self-conscious about it the first few times he'd done it mostly unintentionally. But now that it was how the scent glands under the fur of his face would be able to mark Sanji if he was in lupine form, it felt natural. "I'm going to drop this in the hamper and wash up."