A look of gratitude– and shared understanding– flashes across Sanji's face twice in short succession. It happens first at the curt dip of Zoro's proud head, the unspoken seal that's placed on their pact. Nami's scent is what fills his head– it makes his blood sing an ancient, primal song that nearly leaves him woozy– but the sharp scent of a man that carves a path through life with blade in hand, a man who could be his rival in this, drifts through the air, too.
It doesn't bother Sanji.
There's a simple truth that even now, even with something less civilized slowly being unearthed, with thought gradually losing way to instinct, he understands. Golden Peacock has been his home for months, now, for far longer than he ever sailed on the Merry. And while the Merry is still home, is what they all yearn for when they aren't drowning in pleasure, there are lessons he's learned here. That the heart is capable of loving more than one person– of wanting them, needing them, craving them– is a lesson he's learned first hand. And while every other alpha in this godforsaken dome might be a rival, Zoro's crew. He's one of them. He's Sanji's partner in keeping Nami safe and taken care of and more than that, there's plenty of room in Nami's heart for both of them. There's no need for them fight.
They can both be her mate. He doesn't think she'd have it any other way.
Which is where the second look of gratitude– and understanding– comes from, mixed with suddenly panicked alarm. That silent, sudden flash of her gorgeous hair as she bolts from their base– no, their den, a part of him screams– without a word. The realization crashes into him the moment it does Zoro as their gazes connect in the briefest of instants. That every single alpha for miles around will scent her– and want her and try to knot her, fuck her, breed her– is self-evident. How could anyone pass up the opportunity to claim a mate as perfect as Nami?
He grunts a second later as Zoro drops his end of the piece of furniture and it shifts, leaving Sanji as the only one holding it up. But not for long. Barely a heartbeat passes before he's dropped it himself, only slowed a little by the delay, but enough that Zoro has a lead on him.
As he darts out the cabin, he views himself as the hunter. That's what they're meant to be– to do– in this game. It's such a human way of looking at things. His body might prickle with possessiveness– the desire to claim her is strong, it feels like he's choking on it– but he has every intention of hauling them both back into the den where it's safe. It's the smart thing to do. They can ride the rest of the game out together.
Easy. Simple. Logical.
But as strong, well-trained legs pump in a mad dash to catch them both, his heart races and his blood boils as the too heady scent of their mate– their Nami– fills his nose, his lungs, his head. Sanji is a man of passion, of emotion, of flame and heat and warmth and god, fuck, somewhere between when Zoro calls out for her and he sees him catch her, the very truth of it is laid bare: he needs her, needs her safe, needs her in his arms, needs her soaked cunt wrapped tight around his cock as he fucks her full of his cum.
And while Sanji tracks by scent, he's not blind. He can see the way she sheds her clothes– and the careful way Zoro scoops them up off the forest floor– a silent invitation for them to claim her. She isn't far away, now, and the words bubble up out of his chest in a voice that's slurred and husky, practically a groan as he shudders at how deeply his cock aches for her as it strains obscenely against the front of his dress slacks.
"Nami, wait for us–!"
A moment later, Zoro reaches her first. Even knowing that she's theirs– that Zoro isn't a threat– that still rankles, still makes him growl quietly as he tastes her, then slides his cock inside her before Sanji's caught up with them. His head is spinning at how good she smells– at how he needs her so badly now, it practically hurts– and despite Zoro pinning her back against a cherry blossom tree, Sanji refuses to let that deter him, already pushing his slacks down his hips, tearing his button up shift off, anything and everything so that when he slides between Nami and the tree, he's as naked as she is, her back pressed flush against his chest, his cock– large and swollen and flushed and leaking– rubbing shamelessly against the soft, inviting curve of her ass.
"Treat our mate more gently, idiot," he mutters at Zoro, only mildly annoyed. There's no time for annoyance, not when Sanji's busy burying his face in the curve of Nami's neck, dropping greedy, suckling kisses all along it as her warm, inviting scent runs right through him, a groan vibrating against her skin as his cock throbs and leaks more thick, hot precum, the rocking of his hips shamelessly smearing it all over her ass without a moment's hesitation. His body is on fire, thrumming with a need that while he understands– he's a Diamond, he's experienced things like this before– he still can't quite handle. That bone-deep need to fuck that's so strong, so instinctual, is incapable of being ignored. And with it comes other needs, other wants, things that his body requires.
Despite his admonishment, he can't help but leave a mark of his own, teeth biting it into side of her neck, tongue lavishing with gentle strokes after.
And then his hand shoots up, cupping Nami's cheek and gently turning it so his mouth can claim hers in a kiss that's all fierce, greedy hunger. "Nami," he murmurs her name almost dreamily, staring into her eyes with ones that are hazy and glazed over, stealing another fierce kiss as he snakes a hand between her legs and gently rubs her clit in slow, meandering circles. "Your ours, yeah? Our Nami, our mate, ours."
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It doesn't bother Sanji.
There's a simple truth that even now, even with something less civilized slowly being unearthed, with thought gradually losing way to instinct, he understands. Golden Peacock has been his home for months, now, for far longer than he ever sailed on the Merry. And while the Merry is still home, is what they all yearn for when they aren't drowning in pleasure, there are lessons he's learned here. That the heart is capable of loving more than one person– of wanting them, needing them, craving them– is a lesson he's learned first hand. And while every other alpha in this godforsaken dome might be a rival, Zoro's crew. He's one of them. He's Sanji's partner in keeping Nami safe and taken care of and more than that, there's plenty of room in Nami's heart for both of them. There's no need for them fight.
They can both be her mate. He doesn't think she'd have it any other way.
Which is where the second look of gratitude– and understanding– comes from, mixed with suddenly panicked alarm. That silent, sudden flash of her gorgeous hair as she bolts from their base– no, their den, a part of him screams– without a word. The realization crashes into him the moment it does Zoro as their gazes connect in the briefest of instants. That every single alpha for miles around will scent her– and want her and try to knot her, fuck her, breed her– is self-evident. How could anyone pass up the opportunity to claim a mate as perfect as Nami?
He grunts a second later as Zoro drops his end of the piece of furniture and it shifts, leaving Sanji as the only one holding it up. But not for long. Barely a heartbeat passes before he's dropped it himself, only slowed a little by the delay, but enough that Zoro has a lead on him.
As he darts out the cabin, he views himself as the hunter. That's what they're meant to be– to do– in this game. It's such a human way of looking at things. His body might prickle with possessiveness– the desire to claim her is strong, it feels like he's choking on it– but he has every intention of hauling them both back into the den where it's safe. It's the smart thing to do. They can ride the rest of the game out together.
Easy. Simple. Logical.
But as strong, well-trained legs pump in a mad dash to catch them both, his heart races and his blood boils as the too heady scent of their mate– their Nami– fills his nose, his lungs, his head. Sanji is a man of passion, of emotion, of flame and heat and warmth and god, fuck, somewhere between when Zoro calls out for her and he sees him catch her, the very truth of it is laid bare: he needs her, needs her safe, needs her in his arms, needs her soaked cunt wrapped tight around his cock as he fucks her full of his cum.
And while Sanji tracks by scent, he's not blind. He can see the way she sheds her clothes– and the careful way Zoro scoops them up off the forest floor– a silent invitation for them to claim her. She isn't far away, now, and the words bubble up out of his chest in a voice that's slurred and husky, practically a groan as he shudders at how deeply his cock aches for her as it strains obscenely against the front of his dress slacks.
"Nami, wait for us–!"
A moment later, Zoro reaches her first. Even knowing that she's theirs– that Zoro isn't a threat– that still rankles, still makes him growl quietly as he tastes her, then slides his cock inside her before Sanji's caught up with them. His head is spinning at how good she smells– at how he needs her so badly now, it practically hurts– and despite Zoro pinning her back against a cherry blossom tree, Sanji refuses to let that deter him, already pushing his slacks down his hips, tearing his button up shift off, anything and everything so that when he slides between Nami and the tree, he's as naked as she is, her back pressed flush against his chest, his cock– large and swollen and flushed and leaking– rubbing shamelessly against the soft, inviting curve of her ass.
"Treat our mate more gently, idiot," he mutters at Zoro, only mildly annoyed. There's no time for annoyance, not when Sanji's busy burying his face in the curve of Nami's neck, dropping greedy, suckling kisses all along it as her warm, inviting scent runs right through him, a groan vibrating against her skin as his cock throbs and leaks more thick, hot precum, the rocking of his hips shamelessly smearing it all over her ass without a moment's hesitation. His body is on fire, thrumming with a need that while he understands– he's a Diamond, he's experienced things like this before– he still can't quite handle. That bone-deep need to fuck that's so strong, so instinctual, is incapable of being ignored. And with it comes other needs, other wants, things that his body requires.
Despite his admonishment, he can't help but leave a mark of his own, teeth biting it into side of her neck, tongue lavishing with gentle strokes after.
And then his hand shoots up, cupping Nami's cheek and gently turning it so his mouth can claim hers in a kiss that's all fierce, greedy hunger. "Nami," he murmurs her name almost dreamily, staring into her eyes with ones that are hazy and glazed over, stealing another fierce kiss as he snakes a hand between her legs and gently rubs her clit in slow, meandering circles. "Your ours, yeah? Our Nami, our mate, ours."