Summary: There’s a part of Zoro that is very aware of how he shouldn’t find the idea of Law taking a blade to his flesh as appealing as he does, but sitting on the cold surface of Law’s operating table he’s honestly too far gone to care.
Injuries are nothing new to the swordsman. The occasional flesh wound, bruised rib or broken bone are simply occupational hazards. They’re something that Zoro has learned to live with and if weren’t prepared to get smacked around a bit he’d have never picked up a sword in the first place.
It’s not a good fight if he escapes unscathed. There’s something exhilarating about getting back as much as you give and the anticipation that comes with spilling first blood and always builds up to an inevitably thrilling clash. That being said, dealing with injuries post-fight is something he finds incredibly tedious. The salves, the uncomfortable bandages that chafe against his skin, the firm restrictions on his training regimen and Chopper’s disapproving frown. There’s nothing he hates more than healing. It’s just another thing he has absolutely no control over and all his time spent recuperating is time wasted in the race to accomplish his dream. There’s nothing worse for him then being told to stay idle while his nakama keep moving forward.
Zoro’s been through a hell of a lot of crap since his whole journey began: practically sliced in half by Dracule Mihawk, almost amputated of both his legs (though that was admittedly of his own doing), torn up by a steel assassin, electrocuted and almost cut down by a government agent proficient in four sword style, but none of it can compare to what he underwent at Thriller Bark.
Zoro doesn’t believe that anything can surpass the hell he was dragged through back then. The total agony of his body trying to rip itself apart. His pain tolerance has always been high, but he’ll admit that ever since that first encounter with the hulking Warlord his nerves have been a little bit fried and that the sensation of physical pain doesn’t always seem to reach his brain. That dulled connection probably explains why he didn’t notice the small pieces of twisted shrapnel embedded in his thigh until Luffy had poked curiously at the small collection of holes torn in the side of his pants during dinner and he’d yelped loudly at the unexpected sting.
Zoro had left the table in a hurry and retreated to a concealed spot of Nami’s tangerine grove to tug off his pants and access the damage himself. It had looked much worse than what he’d hoped for. The raised bumps where the shards of whatever it was had sunk into his flesh were swollen an unpleasant shade of red. The skin around what appeared to be the deeper wounds was bruised and dark blood trickled sluggishly from the punctures. He stared sickly at the nightmarish mess of his leg before prodding gingerly at one of the smaller red spots and pulling back at the stab of the pain.
"You shouldn’t be touching it without washing your hands you’ll only increase your risk of infection." A level voice interrupts. Zoro looked up to see the Heart Captain looming over him, his arms crossed and his expression unreadable.
Zoro doesn’t really known what to make of Law’s actions. They’d been involved in a rather enthusiastic physical relationship (though perhaps not exclusively physical because Zoro won’t deny the fact that he cares for the other man) when the crew had first left Punk Hazard, but after all the chaos at Dressrosa, they hadn’t spent any time alone together. They hadn’t even spoken since Luffy and Law had stumbled battered, but still breathing out of the ruins of Doflamingo’s castle. He brushes the pad of his thumb over the tender skin of his exposed thigh and winces.
"Stop touching it and let me have a look." Says the older man crouching down into Zoro’s personal space so close that the tips of his hair, free from the usual confines of his spotted hat, are tickling the swordsman chin as Law leans forward examining the wound.
Zoro can feel the tattooed man’s breath mingling with his and he wants him even closer, he wants to have the surgeon’s mouth on his, wants to kiss him. He’s like an addict gone too long without a fix and he hadn’t realized it at first, but he craves the feel of Law’s lips. He knows that he really shouldn’t be thinking about something like this, not when the other man obviously isn’t looking for it.
"Tell me," the surgeon says after a few moments of observation,"how did you receive this wound and why didn’t you seek medical attention sooner?" His tone is firm and his brow is furrowed in a way that Zoro knows is more out of concern than frustration.
"I didn’t notice it when it happened." Zoro replies sullenly. It’s not as if he knew that he was injured. It shouldn’t be such a big deal.
"I’m shocked that you didn’t feel something like this." Law says mildly.
"Well there were a lot of things going on, not my fault if I missed a few things." Zoro says defensively.
"Well it needs to be taken care of." The taller man says, his expression one of complete authority and Zoro knows that Law won’t take no for an answer. "Here, dress yourself and come with me. We’re going down to the sub." He says rising and turning his back to him all in one fluid movement. Zoro tugs his pants back on a follows after him.
The swordsman has never been inside the submarine. The obnoxiously bright yellow craft is docked next to The Sunny and the short walk there is made in total silence. There’s something heavy hanging in the air between them and Zoro can’t quite place his finger on it. He feels tense and it doesn’t help that Law keeps looking at him when he’s got his head turned and it makes the green haired man feel strangely self-conscious. The slight prickle he feels under his skin knowing the other man keeps watching him. It grinds through him, makes his hair stand on end in anticipation and he can’t stand it.
Their steps echo loudly as they make their way down the metal hall that leads further into the submarine. Zoro’s surprised there isn’t a single crew member in sight, not the bear or one of the guys in the funny hats, the place seems almost deserted. It’s as wordless as the rest of their short trip. Zoro isn’t particularly fond of being on someone else’s domain, the sub isn’t as well lit as The Sunny and the unfamiliar walls look eerie in the dark.
The surgeon stops in front of the one of the many identical door that line the hall and motions for him to enter. Zoro pushes the door open to pitch blackness, the surgeon steps in after and flicks the lights on before closing the door behind him. The sterile fluorescent lighting illuminates an infirmary of sorts, there are cupboards near the back, a stainless steel examination table pushed up against the wall and opposite it, on the on the other side of the room there are some filling cabinets and a desk. It looks pretty standard, though perhaps a bit more modern than The Sunny’s sickbay.
"Take off your coat." The older man tells him, as he busies himself with the searching the cupboards for various medical implements and adding them to the silver tray balanced on his forearm.
Zoro obliges him, unbuttoning his coat and tugging off his stomach warmer for good measure. If he’s gonna be shirtless he might as well try and put on a bit of a show. He stretches, pulling his arms over his head, taking a deep breath and making the muscles of his abdomen contract. The green haired man watches smugly as the darker man swallows awkwardly at the sight of his little ‘display’.
"Take a seat and if you could please remove your pants." Law says clearing his throat.
Zoro takes great delight in watching the darker man sweat as he shimmies out of his worn black pants. If he still had both of his eyes he would have given the doctor a wink to drive the whole thing home, but as it is he simply lets a cocky smile of satisfaction play on his lips.
He’s wearing underwear today, which is a pretty rare occurrence, he usually finds it too cumbersome, but now he’s actually kind of glad to still have some clothes on his back, which is better than being completely naked, not that he’s opposed to it, just that it’s awkward if the other man of going to stay fully clothed. He takes a seat on the examination table, the thin cotton of his boxers doing very little to keep in any heat seated on the cold hard surface of the table.
Zoro spies the tray set out next to him, it carries a bottle that probably contains some sort of antiseptic, some cotton balls, a few assorted bandages and a scalpel. The innocuous implement stands out to him, it’s still strange for him to be reminded that Law is actually a doctor, that performing minor medical tasks must be second nature to the other man and it hits him that the other man is probable going to use it on him. Law certainly doesn’t exude the same gentle beside manner as Chopper, but there is the terribly revealing ease with which he carries himself in the infirmary. There’s this strict control he slips into so effortlessly when he has a patient on his table and Zoro finds it….well he finds it exciting.
There’s a part of him that knows he shouldn’t find idea as appealing as he does. The thought of passing under the surgeon’s knife sends a prickle of excitement down his spine. Zoro’s been on the sharp end of a blade countless times, but submitting willingly that’s something he’s only ever done twice in his life, once to Mihawk and the other to Luffy’s commands at Mock Town. So the image of what might happen that’s conjured up by his mind is more than a little intriguing. He’s curious to see what he might experience subjected to Law’s control. Unarmed as he is Zoro could still do a considerable amount of damage, but sitting here stripped down to his underwear he’s clearly the most vulnerable one between the two of them and there’s trepidation bubbling in his gut. It’s a feeling he hasn’t felt in years and it’s actually quite enticing.
Zoro’s so distracted thinking about what’s to come that he doesn’t hear the other man’s warning and he hisses as Law dabs a cotton ball soaked with antiseptic on his wound. The surgeon takes his time disinfecting the messy punctures as best as he can. The task seems to drag on forever and the green haired man is feeling oddly impatient, anxious for Law to begin his treatment in earnest. When suddenly it’s over, over in less than the blink of an eye, time suddenly going faster than the scarred man can quite process.
Law’s fingers are holding the scalpel delicately, his other hand coming to rest on Zoro’s knee and God the swordsman will be the first to admit that he has a bit of a fixation when it comes to the older man’s hands. Long tattooed fingers that as look good around a sword hilt as they do grasping a scalpel. Zoro’s gaze always wanders to follow the ink that scrawls across those knuckles and he can’t stop himself from wanting to trace those cryptic letters with his tongue. The dexterous tapered digits pressed firmly on the bared skin of his knee setting his nerves alight.
"I am going to hurt you." Law says.
Not “this will hurt” because Law is the one holding the blade and he is very much in control of what he’s about to do. Zoro does even know if he has it in him to respond verbally so he just nods once slowly. This intensity is killing him, leaving him speechless, his blood rushing south and his face hot.
When the scalpel actually pierces his flesh he doesn’t even feel it, the point so sharp it cuts into his flesh like a hot knife through butter. Zoro lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding back at the sight of the bright red that beads along the line the darker man drew down the length of the swollen red skin of his thigh. There’s this slight prickle, it’s all quite numb, but that doesn’t stop the heat from pooling low in his belly and yeah, yeah he’s really really very much into this. The almost ghostlike path of the scalpel across his skin feels so surreal, he can’t quite believe that it’s all really happening and that the glinting steel edge is gliding across his upper leg.
The burning sting of sensation of simultaneous pleasure and pain when Law’s fingers dig inside his flesh makes Zoro’s breathing stutter. Law is inside him in a way he’s never been before, fingertips twisting against exposed nerves prying out the small shard of metal. It feels like too much, Law’s fingers, the silence that surrounds them, the blood leaking down the inside of his thigh and Law’s hand on his knee. It feels like too much and not enough, like the pleasure is being tortured from him. Zoro is being twisted, twisted like the metal stuck under his skin and the only thing he can do to stop himself from being completely swept away is to grasp at the edge of the table. He can feel the metal bending under his grip, the same way his body seems to be bending up to meet Law’s touch. When the darker man draws back Zoro lets out a soft hiss of air between his clenched teeth. He feels overwhelmed, unable to react adequately. The sheer intensity has him pinned to the examination table and there’s still three more pieces to go.
The whole process happens in this void inside reality where time and space have no meaning and the only things that exist are Law, Law’s hands and the sharp press of the scalpel. When the last metal sliver is extracted Zoro can hardly think straight, he’s harder than he has any right to be, cock straining against the thin cotton of his boxers. There’s no way Law can’t tell how aroused he is. The taller man is looking at Zoro with something like awe and intensely burning desire.
There’s a soft clink as Law set the scalpel down on the surface of the table and unlike with the antiseptic earlier Zoro has no warning before Law’s pulling his length free from the confines of his underwear. Law’s fingers are slick with the green haired man’s blood and there’s little finesse with the way he’s pumping Zoro’s cock, rough rhythmic tugs that send Zoro careening over the edge of pleasure. His orgasm leaving him with the last of his self-control, his hips buck up into the older man’s grip and Zoro feels his entire body shiver as he comes over Law’s fist.
Coming down from his high, Zoro can see that his skin is sticky with a mix of cum, sweat and blood. Law is standing over him a smirk on his lips, satisfied with having brought him pleasure. Zoro watches him wipe his hands on a cloth he pulls off the tray of medical implements.
"I hope this doesn’t encourage you to injure yourself." Law says drily.
"I dunno, you tell me, should I expect special treatment in the future?" Zoro asks grinning back at him.
"We’ll see." The doctor tells him tossing the cloth in Zoro’s direction and the swordsman’s reflexes are almost so shot from his sudden endorphin rush that he almost misses catching it. Zoro’s certainly not keen on getting injured any time soon, but he can’t say that he wouldn’t mind letting the other man take a blade to him again. As Law said they’ll just have to see.
Notes: I didn’t put a read more because I am standing in an alley at 8’o’clock at night trying to post this in the freezing cold. Also, this is so unsanitary please forgive Law’s lack of actual medical treatment. I only write this for kinks and giggles. I’d like to thank mama, Mickey and Ichi. I’d also like to thank partner for trying to stop me from going down this path of fucked up kinks. I will edit this properly another time when I have Internet and post it decently.
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