AUTHOR'S NOTES: I must warn you, I think this fic is one of the smuttiest I have ever written. I haven't used the word 'cock' this much before, so that gives you an idea. Haha. Quite brave of me to write this under my mom's nose, too, especially since she knows I have academic requirements to do and I'm not doing them. Haha.

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Love Marks

By Kumagoro Meowzaki

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"Never thought you were the jealous type," panted Zoro as he was kicked onto the bed he never thought he'd share with Sanji. "Seeing as you flirt with anything with breasts, I thought you'd be more...lenient." He gasped as Sanji crawled over him and pressed his knee against his crotch. "I didn't even flirt with the guy."

Sanji pressed again, intending to reprimand Zoro, and was pleased to hear the sharp hiss from Zoro's lips. "Yeah, but that damn fruit seller did, the bastard," Sanji growled. "No one has the right to grab your ass, not even Luffy. Nobody but me." Punctuating his last sentence, he pushed his knee again and pinched said ass, smirking suggestively as he did so.

"Not like he's my type," Zoro breathed out. "I like blond, cigarette-smoking, bitchy cooks who know how to use their legs," he said, stroking the leg that was moving against his crotch.

"Not only my legs, marimo." Sanji undid Zoro's pants, pulled them down and dropped them at the foot of the bed, his eyes never leaving Zoro's. His fingers fluttered on Zoro's hipbone, and Zoro shuddered half in laughter at the ticklish sensation and half in excitement. He slid his fingers into the waistband of Zoro's underwear and ever so slowly pulled it down to reveal Zoro's hardening cock. He smiled as he saw Zoro claw into the sheets, muscles visibly tensing as he tried not to buck up into Sanji's teasing fingers which were now tracing the length of his cock. "My hands too," he said, his fingers finally closing around Zoro's flesh. He stroked it, slowly up, quicker down, and Zoro just couldn't help but hiss and thrust back. Sanji's last downward stroke was more forceful, pushing Zoro's lower body in place. "And—" Zoro opened his mouth to complain, but it turned into a gasp when he felt Sanji's breath on his very sensitive flesh, "my mouth."

"Ah!" There was both surprise and relief in Zoro's sudden cry as Sanji took him into his mouth. "Shit—dammit, cook—ahhh—" He knew Sanji wasn't just boasting when he said he was good. He'd felt those skilled hands and mouth so many times before, and although Sanji didn't do the same thing twice with them, Zoro always became like this every single time. He resisted burying his hands into Sanji's hair, remembering the last time he tried to push Sanji's head into his cock almost resulted in a broken wrist. Instead, he grabbed the headboard, praying that it would not break.

Sanji, seeing the very wanton look on Zoro's face—a look that only he, Sanji, could bring to that usually hostile face—smiled and raised his head, although his hand continued to stroke Zoro. Zoro had known that Sanji would stop, but still a pleading cry escaped his lips and his back still arched for more. "Dammit," he cursed, more to himself for losing control and letting his weakness show than to Sanji's mouth leaving him.

"As for me," Sanji began casually, as if his hand was not grazing up and down Zoro's cock, "I like skilled swordsmen." He looked at Zoro's face as he said this, and saw a hint of a smile there. "That counts you out right away, dumbass."

"Oh yeah?" Zoro growled, pinning Sanji forcefully onto the bed under him and securing Sanji's arms above his head with one hand. With the other, he hastily did away with Sanji's pants and underwear and threw them off somewhere. There was a sharp, almost burning glint in his eye as he glared at Sanji, and the cook knew he'd done right. Reluctantly, Zoro let go of Sanji's arms to take off his shirt, not even for one second trusting Sanji not to do something naughty. But Sanji just watched Zoro, quite amused, unbuttoning his own shirt. Zoro, though, didn't bother with Sanji's buttons and ripped the shirt open. "I've always wanted to do that," he said, smirking.

"The hell?! That shirt was expensive you know!" Sanji fumed as Zoro flung the shreds of what used to be a blue silk shirt. But Zoro ignored him and flipped him on his belly, his breathing hard and impatient. Sanji winced slightly at the impact and got up on hands and knees, then shuddered as Zoro ran a hand up his spine. "Ah, shit, forget the shirt." And the shirt was totally forgotten as Zoro reached around his waist and grabbed his cock, stroking with a calloused hand. His free hand reached up towards the headboard then under the mattress, taking out a tube of lubrication and flicking the cap open with his thumb. As he reached up, his cock brushed against Sanji's hole and Sanji moaned, pushing back towards Zoro.

Zoro had a fleeting urge to take him then, but stopped himself. He hissed and put lube on his finger, then inserted the finger into Sanji. Sanji bit his wrist to keep from crying out, his tongue flicking out when the pain passed. He felt his pulse racing under his tongue for that very brief moment. Zoro's hand on his cock and the finger in his ass were making it very difficult for him to keep from coming. "You want skill?" he heard Zoro say as his finger continued to push into him. Then Zoro put in another finger and Sanji screamed into the pillow. "You want skill, huh?" Zoro repeated into his ear. Sanji felt Zoro at his entrance and he shuddered with excitement. "Here's skill for you."

"AAAAHHH!"

"Quiet, they'll hear us, stupid cook!"

"No, they won't, no one's on board but us!"

"Still! Try to keep it down!"

"How can I, with you fucking me so—ah!"

Sex with Zoro was always intense. There was always violence involved, whether in words or actions but Sanji liked it. It wasn't really the pain, but the friction between the two of them that intensified arousal and made sex more pleasurable. It was the feeling he got when they get into a good fight, that euphoria of physical exertion and competition. No woman could ever give him that feeling.

"Is this skill—ah—enough—for you?"

It was really hard to hold back. The bed was creaking so loudly that Sanji thought for a moment how it would be if the bed just split apart. He grunted, and Zoro heard him and thrust harder, and Sanji felt the first spasm of climax in his spine. He bit his lip and tried very hard to hold it, but Zoro was not helping at all, still driving into him so accurately and still pumping him with his hand. With all his strength, he sat up with his back flush against Zoro's chest, hooking his arm back around Zoro's neck for balance. Zoro cursed at the sudden movement, holding Sanji's waist with the hand that held his cock.

Sanji impaled himself on Zoro, meeting his upward thrusts with so much force, he could feel every push up his spine. Zoro buried his head in the crook of Sanji's neck, breathing against the sensitive skin, trying to hold his own climax at least until the cook does. He could feel the vibrations in Sanji's throat as he moaned uncontrollably, could hear the pulse beating violently against his ear.

Sanji felt climax pooling in his nerves again and he slid a hand downward to his cock, the brief worry that he'd come the moment his fingers touch it quickly forgotten as Zoro's thrusts became faster and more erratic, and the climax spread to all his muscles, and he knew they might tear any second, but he just couldn't care, not now, not while the whole universe was exploding before his eyes and there was nothing but the liquid spurting all over his skin and in him and even Zoro's hoarse cry against his ear seemed distant.

When they became deliciously aware of their slowly subsiding breaths and the cabin starting to become visible, Zoro uttered a solid "Damn," and Sanji hearing that, let out a chuckle and let his head fall lazily on Zoro's shoulder. Then both of them just started laughing, falling bonelessly onto the bed beside each other. While Zoro continued laughing and cursing, Sanji reached for the pack of cigarettes he kept on top of the drawer since he started having sex with Zoro regularly, so that he wouldn't have to look for them after every session.

"So, marimo," Sanji said, smoke issuing from his mouth, "you still gonna flirt?"

"Maybe next time, I really will," Zoro answered, shrugging. "I like the consequences," he said, smirking at Sanji dirtily. Sanji chuckled. He drew out a puff of smoke and was thoughtful for a second, then suddenly sat up, surprising Zoro.

"Hey," Sanji said, suddenly slapping Zoro's arm. Zoro stared at him, puzzled. "Let's put some sort of mark on each other."

Zoro raised an eyebrow and sat up as well. "What, you mean like hickeys?"

"No, like...tattoos or something."

"No way, shit cook!" Zoro fell back on the bed, rather violently. "It's not like we're married or anything," he said feeling rather embarrassed at saying something about marriage. "Besides, we could get AIDS from needles," he added, partly to cover up his embarrassment.

Sanji felt hot in the face, also at Zoro's mention of matrimony. "Like I'd marry you, shitface!" It was really uncomfortable for both of them, and neither could look at the other's face. Now Sanji also felt embarrassed that he gave the suggestion in the first place, but it had sounded like a great idea then. Even now, as he stared at the ceiling through the smoke from his cigarette, he still thought so. Then just as suddenly as the first idea appeared, another thought occurred to him and it just slid out of his mouth. "What about I give you a burn?" he said, holding up the cigarette between his fingers. "And you give me a cut. You know, like signatures."

Zoro stared at the cigarette thoughtfully. Then he shifted his gaze toward Sanji, who was still looking at him intently. He realized Sanji would definitely not give up until he agreed or they reached some form of compromise which Zoro could not think about at the moment. Some of Sanji's cigarette ash fell on the sheets.

"Unless you're scared of pain," Sanji said calmly, but he knew and Zoro knew that pain wasn't a big concern to either of them because they faced much worse than a cigarette burn and a cut on an almost daily basis. Finally, Zoro rolled his eyes and sighed. "Fine."

Sanji grinned and drew a long draft from his cigarette. "Gimme your leg."

"Why?"

"I'm gonna put it on your thigh," Sanji answered, taking the cigarette from his mouth and holding it between his thumb and forefinger. "Come on, I don't want to waste my smoke."

Zoro frowned, but reluctantly stretched out his leg across Sanji's. Sanji snorted and slid closer to Zoro, taking care to run his hand teasingly along Zoro's leg from calf to thigh before bending the leg at the knee. Zoro shuddered and watched as Sanji propped his elbow on Zoro's knee and aimed the cigarette at the inner side of his thigh, mere centimeters from his groin. It made Zoro a little nervous and his frown darkened. "If you burn the wrong thing, you shit, I am so going to—FUUUUUCK!"

For Sanji already stuck the burning cigarette on Zoro's skin, and it surprised Zoro, who didn't think it was going to hurt this much. It was exactly like it was; lit cigarette on skin and it was a sharp, throbbing pain worse than getting fucked and it hurt like hell. Sanji smiled as he watched Zoro's face contort and his hands almost rip the blanket. Somehow, he loved seeing Zoro's face twisted like that and hearing him scream. "You look like you're coming," Sanji said, mashing the cigarette on Zoro's skin one last time before chucking it to who-knows-where.

"You fucking, sadistic asshole, shit! Ow, shit!" Zoro tried to bend and blow the burn, but Sanji pushed his head away and he blew it for Zoro and gave it a lick. Zoro continued cursing, but in a much lower speed and volume as the pain diminished. "I am gonna kill you, bastard!"

"Sure you will," Sanji said sarcastically, looking perfectly relaxed. He nodded toward Zoro's swords, propped beside the bed. "Your turn."

Zoro glowered at him and reached for one of his swords and unsheathed it. He let it pass just beside Sanji's cheek, which made him rather nervous. "Hey, not my face, moron, I don't want to look like some emo samurai."

"Shut up, I really want to cut your dick off, asshole," Zoro growled. He thought of a good place to cut Sanji, but he was having a rather hard time, since he wanted to cut off either Sanji's head or his penis. The burn still throbbed, and Sanji's saliva started to dry.

"Fine, just run me through, why don't you?" Sanji snapped, quite annoyed and still rather nervous. Which he found strange, since he worked with knives and sometimes got cut by accident. And a couple of times, on purpose too.

"I'm considering that," Zoro muttered. The space between them was not enough for the sword to be extended to full length, and it limited the options to cut from. After a moment's thinking, he gestured Sanji to get his arm out of the way first and positioned the blade against the jut of his hipbone. It looked like he was going to cut Sanji in half, which he normally would have found a little funny. Seconds ago, he would have seriously considered really cutting Sanji in half, but the pain in his thigh was less, so now he just found it a little awkward.

"Are you going to do a little heart-shaped wound? Or carve your name? 'Cause that would be a very cheesy idea," Sanji teased.

"As if this wasn't cheesy enough," Zoro pointed out. "Retard."

"Maybe a penis—FUUUUUCK!" Sanji's scream was to the millisecond exactly as long, to the decibel exactly as loud, and to the note exactly as high as Zoro's was earlier and it satisfied Zoro enough after he made a small, x-shaped incision on Sanji's hip. He watched as the crimson lines started to appear and thicken into drops on Sanji's skin. "Damn, this is going to scar for a long time!"

"Isn't that what you wanted?" Zoro said, bending down to do as Sanji did to his burn. The taste of blood was fresh in his mouth and he couldn't resist kissing Sanji and letting him taste it too. It was the first time their lips had touched that session and Zoro almost forgot he still had the sword in his hand. Sanji kissed back with fervor, drowning out the pain into Zoro's mouth. Zoro tossed the sword out of the way—and realized a split-second later that he shouldn't have, but never mind—and raked his hands down Sanji's back, to his bent leg and then back up to his hip.

"Ow!"

"Sorry."

The next day, while everyone was lounging at the deck, enjoying the beautiful weather and a shirtless Sanji got a round of drinks for everyone, Chopper noticed something.

"Sanji, what's that on your hip?"

Everyone looked at the said cook's hip, and both he and Zoro tensed up very slightly and threw a quick glance at each other. Zoro pretended not to notice anything and tossed his head back nonchalantly. "Er, nothing, kitchen accident," replied Sanji, sounding nothing like convincing. But nobody said anything, not even Chopper, who normally would've offered to treat a wound.

Until, five minutes later, Robin smiled knowingly and said, "You know, in some cultures, scarification was done by betrothed couples."

And Zoro had the fatal mistake of reacting, vehemently, I might add. "I'M NOT MARRYING THAT SHITTY COOK!"

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