A/N: So, this is the last part! I think this worked well for my first real smut story, and I would really love to hear what everyone else thought of it.

Day Three: Write a story that, well, is nothing short of smut. The catch is that you have to include at least one kink - no matter how out-there or mild it is.

"Oi, Zolo!" called Sanji, pushing the door to the galley open slightly. He kept one hand on the door knob, light blue eyes scanning the deck for his chosen prey.

Nami glanced up from her magazine - and there was an almost knowing look on her face, which the chef pointedly ignored, taking in instead the fact that she was motioning towards the mast.

And it was a flashback, like it was everytime he stepped out onto the deck. Zolo was laying at the base of the main mast, shoulders propped against the dark wood and arms folded over his chest, eyes closed halfway as he stared out at the sea. Like he could care less about what was going on around him; but Sanji cared, because he could still feel the other mans chapped lips against his own, still taste the peculiar tang of bitter salt in his mouth.

Still, he tried his best to school his features into something less open. Tilting his head to the said, he called out the swordsmans name a second time, louder then before, and Zolo lazily turned his head and raised his eyebrow.

"What do you want, shit-cook?" he asked, but there was no real gruffness to it. In fact, it almost sounded wary.

Ignoring that, because it made sense in a way and he was just a little wary around Zolo too right now, Sanji motioned towards the kitchen. "Get your ass over here and help me with these dishes. Usopp did it earlier, and I'm not going to make the ladies muss up their hands."

Then he turned and disappeared back into the galley, not waiting to see if the swordsman was following. If things were how Sanji thought they were, then he would have company in a few moments. And...if not...then he really was wrong and sick and a freak, and maybe they would both be able to forget about what happened before, but probably not.

And he didn't know why that thought made his stomach churn, but it did. It made his heart pound in his chest and the palms of his hands start to sweat. Enough so that, when the door to the kitchen opens, he jumps slightly, plunging his hands deep in the sudsy water of the sink.

"What?" questioned Zolo - and there was a slight smirk in his voice, which let Sanji know that he had seen. But it didn't matter because he had shown up and that was perfect and felt so right to know that.

The blond didn't look up from the sink, trying to keep his expression blank. "I told you. It's your turn to help with the dishes, bastard marimo."

Silence, then footsteps as Zolo moved through the room. Coming to a stop beside Sanji, close but far enough away that they weren't quite touching, and that felt so very cold to the cehf, who could remember just how warm he'd been before.

For a few moments, neither of them said anything. Sanji washed the dishes from breakfast, then handed them to Zolo, who dried them and stacked them on the counter. He wasn't allowed to put anything away, as he always ended up shoving things into the wrong cabinet or drawer.

"Hey, shit-cook?" Zolo eventually asked, and if Sanji was ashamed that he broke the silence first, he didn't show it. Just kept his eyes on the soap-clouded water and let out a 'hmm'. "What the Hell's been going on with you lately? First that kiss, then...before...on the deck."

Sanji blinked, and at first all he could think about was that Zolo was being very frank in his approach and, yes, that seemed right. Then it hit him that he'd avoided actually saying what went on the day before, when their fight had twisted and turned and evolved into something bigger, something more.

He smirked slightly, glancing out of the corner of one eye at the slightly older man, savoring the light dusting of pink on his cheeks. "You mean when I sucked you off?"

Zolo stiffened and that blush grew a little darker, creeping from his cheek bones down along the side of his neck. He gave a short, sharp nod, wiping the plate in his hands a little rougher then he should have.

Didn't say it though, and that fact both amused Sanji and turned him on - because that just proved how completely out of his depths Zolo was when it came to this, completely unused to anything and everything and, God damnit, Sanji wanted to be the one to show him the ropes.

"Thought you liked it?" asked Sanji, off handedly, and forced himself to look away from the swordsman. He swished the dishrag over the top of a dish and, oh, that one was already clean? Huh.

"Th-that's not the point!" snapped Zolo - and that seemed to be the breaking point for the green-haired man, who slammed his slightly damp rag down on the counter next to the stack of dishes. "And that's not what I asked either, damnit!"

"Well, what do you want me to say?" Sanji asked, narrowing his eyes slightly. He knew what he wanted, obviously, and shouldn't have had any problem saying it because it was all he'd been able to think about these last few weeks. But, suddenly, the words were caught in his throat and Zolo was pissing him off, even if he wasn't doing anything but being rightfully curious.

Zolo spun around so that he was facing Sanji, crossing both arms over his chest as he did. "I want you to tell me where the Hell your heads been these last few days! Fuck, Sanji, I'm not some stupid whore you can just pick up and drop off, and I don't have the time to deal with you just because you're suddenly horny and you want an easy fuck!"

There was too much that he had to do, Zolo told himself, and that was why he was wording it that way. Because he had training to focus on. Not because it would hurt too damn much to be used and forgotten.

For his part, Sanji found himself unable to say anything right away. It stung to hear that from Zolo, to realize that's what the other man thought of him. Then he was pulling the ciggarette out from inbetween his lips and crushing it under his heel - and all he could think about was proving Zolo wrong, even if he couldn't bring himself to say those three words just yet.

Flinging himself foreward, he latched a hand onto Zolo's shoulder, the other weaving into the short strands of hair at the base of the swordsman neck. He clenched his eyes shut and pressed their lips together; and it was a simple kiss compared to the last time, when it had been tongue and teeth and spit. It was a nervous kiss, a tense kiss, and all Sanji could think was that he hoped Zolo wouldn't pull away.

He didn't, but he didn't move away either. And that was a step in the right direction, wasn't it? Yes, Sanji decided, it most certainly was.

"I don't want an easy fuck, Zolo." Sanji muttered, pulling away slightly. Just enough so that he could speak, but his hot breath still ghosted across the other mans face. "I want to be with you, and I want to make you feel good."

He could feel Zolo stiffen up, and could see his jaw tighten. But he could see wheels turning too, and tried to put every ounce of feeling that he had into his eyes, tried to let the swordsman see that he was telling the complete and utter truth.

"Me?" breathed Zolo, and he raised his brows slightly. Still didn't move away, though. Just stared at the chef and tried to will his blush away.

Sanji nodded, eyes closing half-way. He leaned foreward, nuzzling against the crook of Zolo's neck. "Mhmm. Let me...show you?"

Zolo opened his mouth to say something, anything, only to snap it shut when a warm, wet something drug itself across his neck. The chef showered it in kisses and licks, trying to find that one spot he knew would be there, the one spot that could prove his point. When he did, Zolo let out a shuddering gasp and tilted his head slightly, showing off more of his bare neck to the blond,a dn Sanji took full advantage of it.

Kisses and licks suddenly disappeared, and Sanji started to lightly suck on the tender patch of skin. Every time Zolo took a breath, he could feel his throat shudder and his chest heave - and Sanji just kept sucking at it harder and harder, trying to mark Zolo as his own, as his, his, his. Lost in his own mind, uncaring that he was getting rougher and rougher, that his fingers had tangled in the short hair and were tugging and pulling.

That's when he heard it. A soft, barely there moan, as Zolo tilted his head - and he didn't know whether to lean into Sanji's mouth, or into his hand, because, damn, he must have been sick but both felt so good.

Sanji paused, then smirked against the bruised piece of flesh. "Damn masochist..."

Zolo grumbled something, then let his head fall to the side and groaned as Sanji's teeth met his neck. Hard enough that the skin began to take on a deep purple tone, and there would certainly be a bruise there in the morning but, fuck, he didn't care.

And Sanji didn't either. He gave the already bruised piece of skin a gentle lick, one hand trailing down Zolo's back, nails dragging against it, and moving to cup his ass.

"C'mon, Zolo..." he whispered, lips moving against the other mans neck. "Let me show you...please."

Stubborn silence, broken only by the first mates already heavy breathing filled the air. Then Sanji was given a single, harsh nod - and he didn't need any other invitation before he was hefting Zolo up and onto the counter, undoing his pants with one hand and his own with another. Both were tugged down, and Sanji just went ahead and brought both of their boxers along with them.

Zolo stiffened, and Sanji was quite certain that it wasn't just because his cock was suddenly exposed to cool air. The thought that Zolo was new to this, had never done any of this before, it was still at the forefront of the his mind and sending jolts of pleasure through him, all the way down to his own dick.

"Don't worry, marimo." he said softly, taking Zolo's cock with one hand. Fingers started to trail up its shaft and to its tip, where a thumb rubbed circles over the mushroomed head. His other hand moved down further, dancing around Zolo's base and then moving to cup his balls. "I'll make you feel real good."

Beneath him, Zolo let out a shuddering gasp and gave a slight buck of his hips. "Ngh...fuck, damn cook..."

"Eh? No, I don't think so, marimo." Sanji smirked, and then he dropped to his knees and bobbed his head down, wrapping his lips around the mushroomed head of the other mans cock.

It was like that started an out of control spiral, as Sanji's tongue began to massage the hard muscle, flicking up by the head and then trailing down, down, down, until Zolo's cock was bumping the back of his throat. At the same time, the blond let his other hand explore more; moving from Zolo's ballsack and up to his ass cheeks, forcing a finger inbetween them and pressing it against his virgin anus.

Zolo moved like he was torn between moving closer to Sanji, and pulling away - because he was still a little uncertain, and maybe he was a tiny bit afraid of the idea of having Sanji inside of him. He said none of that though, and just let out loud and needy sounding pants as Sanji continued to work at his cock.

When the chef slipped the first finger inside, Zolo's entire body tensed up. Enough that his breathing came to a hault and Sanji couldn't move his finger, not even a little, not even to search for the other mans prostate.

So Sanji tried to focus more attention on the green-haired mans cock, absolutely coating it in the saliva now running freely out of his mouth. And, God damn, if the noises that Zolo had started to make weren't making this whole thing that much harder on Sanji, who wanted nothing more than to bury himself in Zolo's tight warmth.

Which meant, the moment he was able too, he forced a second finger inside of Zolo - and said man froze up again, but Sanji could feel the struggle to relax. He smirked against the cock in his mouth, because that was just like Zolo, not wanting to admit that he was pain even now, when Sanji fully understood how much it must have been hurting him.

Like he was being ripped in two, the chef was sure, because at one point in time he had felt the same thing.

Crooking his fingers, Sanji felt around until they brushed against that one spot inside of him that had Zolo gasping and bucking into his mouth. Sanji gave a strangled gasp but let the head of the cock hit the back of his throat - and then Zolo was writhing and groaning as burst after burst of cum shot into his mouth.

When Sanji pulled back, viscous cum still held in the bottom of his mouth, the last few strings of white shooting against his chin and closed lips. He looked up at Zolo; who was staring down at him with barely open eyes, face flushed and breath coming in harsh pants, chest heaving. Then he rocked onto his heels, spitting Zolo's cum onto his hand (and pulling his fingers out of Zolo as he did), and moving to slather his dick in it.

Sanji gave a soft moan as he jerked himself off, spreading the essence of Zolo all over himself. With his free hand, he tugged on the green-haired mans thigh, beckoning him to join him on the floor.

Zolo was still for a moment, then slid from the counter almost bonelessly, hitting his knees and leaning foreward, this time capturing Sanji's mouth with his own. And, fuck, was that what he tasted like? All bitterness and sweat.

The chef slipped his tongue inbetween Zolo's lips, letting himself fall back onto his ass and tugging Zolo closer to him. Let the swordsman straddle him and, while Zolo was preoccupied, he positioned himself over his entrance. In one sharp jerk, Sanji was in to the base, mouth muffling Zolo's sudden scream.

After that it was nothing but harsh panting and pain. Sanji forced himself to be still (and, fuck, the tightness is almost enough to hurt and the heat makes it feel as though he's on fire), and let Zolo's blunt nails dig into his shoulders. A soft kiss here, a whispered word of comfort - and then after what seemed like forever but was only just a few seconds, Zolo shifted his weight. Just slightly, but it was enough to send jolts of electricity through Sanji and bring a moan from his soft, pale lips.

"G-go on...mo-move..." grunted Zolo, and even though Sanji knew it was too soon for him to have adjusted, he listened to the pained command. Started thrusting in small, sharp jerks.

Then it was motion and heat and passion, as the two moaned against each other, trying to keep noise to a minimum but at the same time not really caring. It didn't take long for them to find a rhythem, moving with each other like one being instead of two, lost in the heat of the moment.

And it felt so right, Sanji thought at one point, to be this way with him. Like nothing else he had ever felt before, like nothing he ever wanted to leave.

Sanji could feel the pressure building up at the base of his cock. Knew he wouldn't last much longer, but didn't want to be the one to cum first. And, a part of him voiced, hadn't he said he would make Zolo feel good?

So, without thinking, he broke the kiss and instead bit down on the tender flesh between neck and shoulder blade. Hard. Enough so that the skin burst and he could taste the copper-like tang of blood; and at the same time, Zolo threw his head back and howled, cuming hard against Sanji's shirt, clenching down and milking the chef for all he was worth.

Sanji gave a few weak thrusts as he orgasmed - and a part of him was amused at how pain affected the swordsman, even in the most intimate parts of his life. Then they were both still, nothing breaking silence of the kitchen except for their own harsh breaths, Zolo's eyes closed and head resting on Sanji's shoulder.

"Told you..." the chef breathed out, tilting his head so that his chin was resting on Zolo's head, enjoying the view of the swordsmans curved back and round ass, with his dick still buried balls deep inside.

Zolo said nothing. Just kept breathing, fast and harsh.

So Sanji continued, because he'd already shown the swordsman everything. There was no point in keeping what he felt a secret any longer. "...love you, Zolo. 'Kay? Never thought you were just a fuck."

More silence, and for a moment Sanji started to worry. Then Zolo nuzzled his head against Sanji, letting out a content sigh. "You too, shit-cook."