In Dreams
Chapter 6
Francois found Zoro like he often found Zoro. At the bar, his head down on the wood, a drink in his hand.
He looked forlornly at all the customers that had already begun making their way to the door. And for those who did not know any better, they were now being informed by wiser patrons.
The tavern would soon be empty.
It was well enough. His father had already disappeared for the evening again.
He approached the bar tentatively.
“He was very handsome.” The brown haired, blue eyed man said. “He seemed… decent.”
Zoro snorted and rolled his head in the other direction.
“He’s a fool.”
Francois sighed. “That I know. He’s obviously a fool if he has not realized how you feel by now. I hope you do not mind, but I had front row seats to your conversation-“
“I thought I heard you breathing a few times-“
“And for all those good looks, he does not seem to have a lick of brains.”
Zoro snorted again.
“But then again, neither do you.”
The swordsman lifted his head, glaring. “Marry Nami? What an idiot. Dragged me all the way out here for that-“
“Got your hopes up, did he?”
Zoro scoffed. “I’m not a fool, Francois. He’s not the Sanji I know-“
“Don’t start that again, Zoro. It’s a dream. You just might need to practice what you have been preaching. If he cannot love you, move on. There are many, Zoro, many that would be happy and lucky to have you as a lover-“
“But I don’t want anyone, Francois. I want that idiot that just walked out your back door!” Zoro said, pounding his fist on the bar. Francois sighed. Thankfully the place was already empty. Zoro could pound on the bar as much as he wanted tonight.
“Yes, well, you can’t fight fools.”
Sanji was chilled. His spirits were sinking and rising as he thought of all the implications the night had been dumped on him. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight. And damn it, what happened to the warm summer air from earlier? Suddenly it seemed like an autumn night.
/Oh yes. The other horse. Can’t forget to take it back as well
I have to take things slow. If I’m going to have any chance of wooing Nami, I’m going to have to take it day by day. She must still be heart broken, but if perhaps she has finally realized that she cannot have Zoro…
Zoro.
What a strange man.
He’s not at all what I thought he was. He was actually able to string several intelligent thoughts together.
He’s not bad, on the whole. If he continues to treat Nami respectfully, I wouldn’t mind spending time with him. There certainly not enough people at Versailles that understand what it’s like, not coming from nobility./
Sanji let his thoughts roam around as they came, often stopping to picture Zoro sitting across from him. When he laughed. When he had put his chin in his hands liked that, that pleasant look on his face. It wasn’t often that Sanji saw Zoro doing anything but sneer in his general direction.
And he had to admit, that had mostly been Sanji’s own doing.
/He really is a superb fighter.
He seems to keep decent company, even among commoners. And the tavern was comfortable, the service was good. The price-
Sacre bleu, I forgot to pay/
Sanji gasped for a moment, but realized that it probably wasn’t the end of the world. He would simply have to make it up to the other man.
/What is something a swordsman would like? I hope he didn’t think I was trying to be rude…/
Zoro was quite drunk. He couldn’t see straight, and suddenly he found it entirely appropriate to fall asleep on his stool, his drink halfway to his mouth.
The poor bartender sighed. “Zoro, you are simply too much. Come. I’m not letting you go back to the palace like that. Get up you fool!”
Zoro was rudely awakened by a pair of Francois’, shaking his arm.
“Whuzzat?”
Francois shook his head and did his best to slide Zoro off the stool and into a standing position beside him. He hooked the swordsman’s arm over his shoulder and led him to the set of stairs that led to his own bedroom.
He hadn’t lived at home for two years now. The tavern was pretty much his responsibility. He’d see to opening, sometimes as early as sunrise, and closing, sometimes as late as sunrise. He served the patrons, cleaned the bar, tables, floors, and kitchen. The only other two employees were a waitress by the name of Charlice that came in, on a good week, three days out of seven, and a cook, if you could call it that, who came in on the weekends.
It was a lot to manage, but it kept him busy, and kept his pocket fairly full. He tried to blow his lengthy tresses out of his eyes, but couldn’t manage well enough.
Opening his bedroom door with his foot, he dragged the inebriated swordsman to his bed, throwing him unceremoniously on top of the covers.
/Ugh. Expensive clothing again. So many damn buttons.
Francois got to work on Zoro’s boots, then made it to his shirt, only managing to get the first two layers off, leaving the under shirt on. To hell with the man’s pants. But the least he could do was remove the sword and buckle. Which he did.
Zoro slept like a brick through it all, only stirring once when Francois removed his sword. He managed to open a bleary eye, flop his arm over his stomach, then begin snoring.
Francois couldn’t help but sigh again. He didn’t like seeing Zoro like this. Even when Zoro was at peace with the world, he drank hard. The man liked to drink and that’s all there was to it. But Francois knew the difference between a happy drunk and a sad one. And Zoro was the saddest of them all.
He’d let him sleep it off through the night, then when he woke up, he’d make the swordsman clean the tavern from top to bottom, until it shined. By then Zoro’s mood would usually return to normal, and he’d send him back on his way, to the palace, with a groan and a moan from the other man.
Francois knew what it was liked to be Roronoa Zoro’s wife. For three years now, he’d looked after the man, fallen in love with him, had his heart broken, and settled for being in a marriage without any of the good perks.
He only hoped Sanji would come to his senses soon. He wasn’t sure if he could bear to watch Zoro fall any farther than he already had.
Zoro returned to the castle the next day as discreetly as he could. It wouldn’t do to have been discovered wandering into the palace at noon the next day in the same clothes he had worn the day before. Smelling. Badly.
Cleaning the tavern always made Zoro work up quite a sweat.
He managed to slip into his room without anyone noticing. He slowly backed into his room, closing the door while checking that no one had seen him, when he heard a “tsk tsk” behind him.
Damn.
Marie.
He turned around, digging out his biggest smile.
“Marie… you’re looking… robust today!”
The petite young woman, a 16 year old blonde with twinkling brown eyes, smiled sweetly at him. Zoro knew that smile, and it was anything but sweet. How he managed to be cowed by the likes of this female he couldn’t comprehend. But there it was.
“Oh, simply wonderful my lord. And how are you on this fiiiiine afternoon?”
“Oh. Well. Actually, in desperate need of a bath, and then… lunch?” He said, both said in the politest requesting voice he could muster, scratching the bridge of his nose.
Marie just smiled at him and resumed polishing the table.
“Very well my lord.”
Zoro did a double take. Marie always gave him no end of hell when he came back to the palace dirty and in the middle of the day. And she made sure at least everyone in the palace heard about it by dinner.
“Oh? You do not mind?” He said, weary of what the conniving woman might be up to.
“Of course not! I am in exceptionally high spirits today my lord! My sweet heart, my Henry, has given me a gift today! A necklace! Just the one I wanted, my lord!”
Zoro mentally patted himself on the back. He knew that would come in handy.
“Ah, that’s good to hear, Marie.”
“Let me get my sister and the others. We will be back in no time! I made some tea for you while you wait!” And she was off, all smiles and sparkles.
Zoro exhaled, falling back on his bed. It was tragic, palace politics. If you wanted anyone to do anything for you properly, a number of favors had to be done. If you wanted anyone to keep their mouth shut about your private business, you either had to be sleeping with them or paying them. It exhausted and annoyed Zoro to no end. He’d rather just slit a few throats.
He rubbed at his temples. There were a lot of things he hadn’t thought about since waking up to a massive headache that morning. He hadn’t had the opportunity. He had woken up next to Francois, which never failed to shock him, no matter how often it happened, and no matter how many clothes they were both still wearing. And then Francois was on him like a hawk on a rabbit, yelling out instructions, not even giving the man a proper cup of coffee or let him dip his head in a bucket of cold water. He looked at his tea with disdain. Tea was a sad excuse for coffee, which was a bad replacement for alcohol. The red wines they had at the palace weren’t bad, but nothing replaced a good mug of ale. Except several good mugs of ale.
He began stripping off his outer layers, working on his boots, removing his sword and then stopping there. If he got anymore nude, the maids would accuse him of impregnating them.
They arrived timely enough, caring large buckets of steaming water. Nine of them. Only eight with buckets, but one with all manner of soaps that Zoro refused to use. Once they had poured the water in the bathroom adjoined to his bedroom, and laid out his towels, he shooed them off with thanks and smiles.
Finally he peeled of his last shirt, tossing it to the marble floor, letting his pants slide down to his ankles, stepping out of them and into the hot water.
The one thing he did indulge in was bubbles.
And lots of them.
Because damn it, people liked to walk in at the most inopportune moments, and Zoro found that a little camouflage was necessary for one’s own safety.
He didn’t need people speculating about the size of his…
Anyway.
He felt his muscles begin to relax. He lay back, sliding into the water up to his nose, and closed his eyes. The tension in his neck muscles began to undo itself, and the pain began to ebb away.
He sighed.
/Damn him.
Damn him damn him damn him.
Damn me./
If only the blond man new. If only he knew how cruel he had been last night by asking Zoro to marry Nami, how cruel he had been when his answer to Zoro’s hypothetical situation had been no.
How cruel it was to know that Sanji flitted in and out of his dreams last night. It hadn’t been a solid story, like it normally was. Just flashes of instances. Sanji, him, and everyone else sitting in a galley, eating.
Sanji cooking.
Zoro washing dishes.
Fighting uniformed attackers.
Fighting each other.
Three swords against two very long, agile, gorgeous legs.
Falling over each other.
Kissing roughly.
Biting him.
Shoving him against a wall.
Them sitting at a table together, simply talking.
Sanji crying.
Zoro laughing.
Softer kisses.
Being older.
And then he had woken up to a warm body, and Zoro knew that everything was alright. That he had woken up next to the one he had been dreaming about.
And then there was Francois’ face.
Zoro didn't like to think that he had much of a heart to break, more like, a libido and psychological needs, but if you could say that his libido and psychological needs were as good as a heart, it was broken everytime he didn't wake up to Sanji.
He could feel the tension in his body building again. He growled and hoisted himself up, reaching for the soap that didn’t stink so much of flowers. He scrubbed angrily at his arms and chest, standing up to do his legs. He ran his soapy hands through his short hair and sat back down in the water, hoping to enjoy it while it was still warm.
Purposely avoiding his nether regions.
He was above that, damn it.
But his mind wasn’t.
He had never dreamed about Sanji in an erotic way before (not that he hadn’t thought about Sanji in an erotic way before), but a few of the images from last night certainly accounted for the stirring in his thighs. Even those few images did much more for Zoro than his own imagination ever did.
Partly because he never let himself get too carried away with his imagination.
But it seemed to be running rampant right now.
Shoving Sanji against the wall, grabbing the back of his head, his hand weaving through that gold hair that he just knew was so silky, crushing his lips against the other mans. Cigarettes and sweet, hot and perfect, he knew Sanji’s mouth would be heaven.
Zoro licked his lips as one hand wandered idly down his torso, stopping briefly at his navel, toying at the curly soft hair that began just below there. He closed his eyes.
It wouldn’t hurt just once.
Like he told himself every time.
His own tongue exploring every inch of that beautiful mouth, dominating the other man’s delicious tongue, pulling away and nipping at his jaw bone none too gently. He wanted to hear Sanji’s voice. Wanted to know if the other man’s moans would be the symphony he imagined them to be. His breath hot on Sanji’s pale, creamy expanse of neck. In his mind, he ran his tongue over that pulse, stopping just beneath the earlobe, and biting there, hard, bruising. That time Sanji would cry out.
Zoro could hear his own little sigh as he swiftly closed the distance between his hand and his hard cock. He inhaled sharply, calloused fingers clasping his throbbing member, his other handing gripping the porcelain edge of the tub, his sinewy back curved in a sensual arc, well muscled legs spread as wide as he could let them. His mouth opened, his head fallen back against the tub as his middle finger easily found the tip of his arousal, expertly kneading it to unbearable sensitivity.
He imagined rolling his hips roughly into Sanji’s, grinding them together, then in a thought that made Zoro’s thighs quiver, he imagined Sanji falling to his knees in front of the other man, looking up at him with smoldering eyes.
“Nnnn…”
The thought, even without completion, made him seethe. He moved his hand from his length to the tender sacs beneath, alternating between fondling them and stroking his swollen erection.
He let the thought play out in his head. Sanji, undoing his breeches, pulling his hot, dripping member out, that pink tongue darting out between a pair of kiss swollen lips.
He began to pump his aching stiffness faster, his hips no longer stationary, but meeting his hand with desperate thrusts, water sloshing slightly.
Sanji’s lips kissed the weeping head tenderly then he licked his lips, tasting Zoro’s seed, only to return for more. Placing his lips over the head, in one swift movement, Sanji took Zoro’s cock into his hot, wet, perfect, searing mouth.
Zoro arched his back even further as his muscles tightened impossibly and his release engulfed him – thick desire pulsing from his cock, his swollen sacs pulling tight against his body, buttocks tense – his seed spilling into the water.
He fell slack against the bottom of the tub, his one arm the only thing keeping his head out of the water. His other hand was still gently wrapped around his overly sensitive, now limp member. His breath was coming in short gasps and he felt his entire body relax again.
“Sanji…”
