Sanji brought his knife down in one clean swing, slicing through sinew and bone with such ease it was as if her were born doing it. Months of practice as made him perfect, and he could have the body chopped down to serving sizes in just under an hour. It was probably a record time, though he didn't know who he could be competing against.

No, this was a lonely job, but he liked it that way.

The little ranch home he shared with Zoro had been filled with so much life in the past few weeks. It was different, their home was filled with so much death that the presence of life, of "friends" was a breath of fresh air.

It was refreshing, Sanji wouldn't bother to deny it. It felt almost normal. Sanji had never known normal. It never sat well on his skin; it sloughed off him like some kind of rot. He didn't like it, truth be told. But the normal he had now was a shade of the normal most people had. It was a normal tainted in darkness and poisoned by wicked deeds. He liked this normal much better.

But it was still a little tiring. As much as he liked their new neighbor and the frightened little rabbit of a postman that neighbor dragged along, he missed the days when it was just him and Zoro. He missed the peaceful evenings spent over blood and the kills Zoro brought home fresh to them.

"Lost in thought?" Zoro asked, sliding up behind him, fitting against him like he was molded that way.

His arms curved around Sanji's waist, and spared no time in toying with his belt. Sanji sighed in contentment and leaned back against his lover.

"I was just thinking I missed moments like this," Sanji said. "Just you, me, and fresh meat." As he spoke, he cleaved his knife through the arm again. A man's arm. It was fatty and the muscle was soft, but he would make good stew meat. Sanji never let one of Zoro's kills go to waste. Not ever.

Zoro popped the button on Sanji's pants, and then reached up to stir at the blood that had pooled onto the cutting board.

"I missed them too," he said. He brought his bloody fingers to Sanji's lips, and Sanji parted them, sucking eagerly on the treat he was awarded. When he'd cleaned all the blood from Zoro's fingers, Zoro pulled them back from Sanji's mouth, returning them to the blood and stirring again.

"I like our neighbor," Sanji added for clarification. "And his friend too. I just wish we had more time alone."

Zoro's hand, coated in the sticky wet blood, slipped under Sanji's pants. It found his length, already hard and eager from just the slightest attention. Zoro wrapped his blood socked hand around Sanji's cock, and stroked.

"Of course," Zoro said, his voice a dangerous purr against Sanji's ear. "Maybe we should take a vacation."

Sanji hissed. The hand on his length worked him in slow, tortuous pulls, squeezing just hard enough to keep him on the edge of something better. Zoro always knew the best ways to drive Sanji crazy. Maybe that was because Zoro knew what crazy felt like.

"Where would we go?" Sanji asked, his voice a little breathless as he leaned his head back against Zoro's shoulder. He'd abandoned the knife, to distracted by the sensation of the blood and Zoro's hand to be bothered with butchering. He rocked his hips into each jerk of Zoro's hand, encouraging more out of his lover.

"Where do you think would be nice?" Zoro asked. "Maybe some place with a lot of people? I hear it's harder to keep track of missing people in a large populace."

His hand quickened it's pace. The blood was starting to dry, so that Zoro's palm stuck to him with every pass, pulling a little too hard, hurting a little too much. Sanji gasped. He lived for this pain.

"Or maybe somewhere remote." The way Zoro purred made Sanji shudder. He could feel the rising heat and tension in his body, but he begged it not to come. Just a little longer. Just let this last a little longer.

"So that I can have you all to myself, and no one can here you scream," Zoro growled. His voice was no longer a soft purr. It was dangerous, it meant death.

Sanji's toes curled in his shoes. One of his hands pushed against the counter, the other clawed against Zoro's arm, gripping for purchase, desperate to hold on in the coming tidal wave.

"And I mean to make you scream, Sanji," Zoro said. "Every chance I can get."

Sanji broke, his back arching in an elegant curve, his features twisting as Zoro's sticky fingers jerked him through a painful orgasm. He groaned, his voice broken and twisted by the sensation of his orgasm. His fluids mixed with the blood on his cock, dripping a pink-red trail down his spent cock.

"I'm not finished with you," Zoro snarled.

Sanji turned, his eyes meeting jet black depths. Eyes of a monster.

"Of course not," Sanji smiled. He pulled Zoro's hand from his pants and laced his fingers between the sticky, stained ones. "Come into the bedroom," he said, leading his lover down the hall. "I'll let you finish me there."