One Piece 1. Chapter 1

Note: So I broke down and had to get this One Piece thing out of my system. No plot just pr0n well in this part build up to pr0n but yeah. I apologize for any errors in characterization as I'm not as familiar with these guys but anyway… Bonus to anyone who gets the character reference from another series entirely.

C&C always welcome and thanks for reading!

Disclaimer: I don't own One Piece or any of its characters. I'm also not making any money off of this.

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><p>The subconscious mind is a fickle creature. The words spoken some years back by a traveling hypnotist more charlatan than magician at Baratie are the first words to enter his thoughts upon waking. He thinks then that his second thought ought to be a vehement mental protest that such an image should pervade his sleeping mind so insidiously. Sanji, is not a man given to such wastefulness of food or of thoughts however. His eyes open slowly and he looks up watching the map of wood grain above his head, the world, the faint light allowing his eyes to focus further. Blindly, he reaches for a cigarette and brings it to his lips thoughtfully as he considers the curiosity that is the "slow slow" beam.<p>

The body, for thirty seconds, is hatefully slowed- locked within the process of completing the last signaled action from the brain. But the mind, the mind has every bit of that time to process the surrounding world and act accordingly. The mind, he found is capable of all sorts of contemplations and thoughts while time passes in that vacuum. Sanji brings the lighter up flicking it lazily open while his internal clock provides him with an update of just how long he has to consider everything that warrants his attention this morning. Now, like that frozen span of time the hammock cradles his body and renders the immediate need for the mind to focus on physical action unnecessary. The draw of the cigarette, the pull of warm smoke, breathing in, breathing out, is a natural action, as natural a breath as any other.

Next piss. Shower. Shave. Dress. Cook. Sanji considers the next fifteen minutes he should have to consider this- such thoughts occupying his mind during meal preparation would be unforgivable. He inhales deeply the warmth blooming down his throat turning his head. Tuesday clothes, his mind supplies him as he gets up and quickly grabs the garments from his trunk and heads for the bathroom. Automatic. And now to consider as he lets the wonderful subconscious mind take control. He shuts the bathroom door considering the dream, realizing the problem as he stands in front of the bathroom holding his prick in one hand.

"Ch'" Smoke blows out his nostrils as he considers the problem sticking straight up, hard and insistent. "This is all your fault you shitty swordsman." More accurately the fault of the subconscious but his own mind makes a far less desirable target for his ire than Zoro. Sanji closes his eyes and breathes in deeply thinking of Baratie and the old man imparting the ancient sea dog's wisdom of getting rid of morning wood to his younger self. Zeff's voice, face, the very idea of his presence there rather than the never heeded advice are the true catalyst for dissipating his hard on. Sanji laughs softly relieving his bladder. "Shitty old man's still good for something even way out here." He tosses the butt of the cigarette in the bowl. _"Hey Sanji, you think the toilet water flushes backwards in the grand line?"_ Luffy's voice echoes in his head as he watches the swirl of the water. Flush. Flush. Ten flushes later and a lecture from Nami he'd-

He pauses to savor that memory of Nami as he steps into the shower. Control. Control. He maintains that control over his body even as he allows every photographic greedy recollection to flit thorough his mind, every curve, every incidental or deliberate brush of skin. Sanji sighs deeply as the hot water hits his chest. Without the trigger, without the proper response he doesn't allow those bodily reactions where they're inconvenient. When Nami decides, when Robin decides that his attentions are welcome beyond the realm of casual flirting then he can allow such things to the forefront but until then… Soap, cloth, left right, front back Sanji bows his head letting the spray hit the back of his neck for a moment as his eyes close and he takes the time to consider the problem currently _beyond_ his careful control.

That dream.

Sanji sucks in air between his teeth in a small hiss as his hand dropping the cloth slides from slick stomach down to damp dripping. The image plays with vivid violence. The narrowly averted collision of reality in his dream melded to bodies crashing, to lips meeting, to skin on skin with a hint of rough morning stubble not shaved away scraping his face. The automatic avoidance of his memory became hands gripping his shoulders shoving them back hard to the wooden planks with that scrape to his neck rubbing skin raw, the weight of Zoro's body pushing the wind out of him as he pushed back grinding, long fingers kneading strong corded back muscles biting back moans and-

Shit.

Sanji feels in the passing seconds of recreated dream dust behind his eyes that his cock has once more risen, swollen stiff beneath his fingers. He presses his lips tight feeling the phantom cigarette between them, a small growl rumbling from his throat as he gives a squeeze, a long drawn out drag of his calloused fingers. Sanji swears softly beneath his breath, not needing to see, only feel, fanning his fingers out, rocking against his palm like his horny bastard dream self. He doesn't have much time. He doesn't have half as much time as he needs to rub, to rut, to bring himself off half as good as he needs to. He had all the time in the world asleep, the subconscious letting hours of pawing, grinding, possessive gripping passing in the rapid movement of flickering pupils beneath his eyelids before letting his body wake.

_Five minutes, shithead. Get out of the shower, get back to work and-_ And he can consider what needs to be done about this while he preps. The stream of considering conscious flowing freely during breakfast would be unforgivable but… But he can divert his attention during the hour of chopping, blanching- a thousand other rote tasks before the big cook up- he can take that time to decide what to do about this. _Heh, so you're gonna do something after all then? _He gives his cock another meaningful squeeze, tipping his head back to the warm spray with a groan. _Yeah, definitely gotta do something about this situation._

And that determination being made Sanji wastes no further time in going about the rest of his routine. Robin is the only one up with him when the sun rises up over the calm sea. Sitting back on the lounge chair on the deck he sees first her eyes scanning the pages of the book and then the peek of cleave from the open buttons of her shirt. Sanji snaps a mental photograph but chastises himself when his greeting and attention are far too distant in his recollection. That is not to say that Roronoa Zoro is all encompassing his thoughts but rather the matter of the situation of his subconscious as a whole. Sanji allows her perfume to distract him counting just a few scant millimeters closer that she allows him to lean. He tries to remember where he stands in his own calculation of personal space allowance, of daring. His eyes briefly flick to the text of the book and he curses that moment of inattention. Setback number one. This _has_ to be resolved quickly.

Robin notices. He can tell with that little upturn of her mouth that she senses his distraction and he forces himself not to redouble his efforts. He promises her fruit, a smoothie for the complexion- as if she needs it. In spite of himself his eyes track up to the crow's nest as he walks to the kitchen seeing a lazy foot resting on the well worn wood. He draws his eyes quickly back in front of him as he reaches for a cigarette, shaking wet hair to clear his head. Behind him, Robin laughs softly returning her full attention to the book thinking that she's joined a very interesting crew indeed.

Sanji has already put that past him sleeves rolled up knife in hand as the vegetables are chopped with speedy efficiency. He sighs at the fridge knowing any marinating of the meat will have to wait- Luffy might very well eat it raw if he catches a whiff. _Actually…_ Brine. Right, he'll brine it. Solves that problem now… _Now for bigger problems. More glaring problems. _The problem that's going to set back months of careful work on both lovely Robin and Nami if he can't scratch this one damn itch. _The shitty subconscious mind alright. _His body he can control in the worst of cases but this… Sanji blinks as he thinks of that dream again seeing the unevenness of both celery and carrots. Zeff would shit a brick. Well shit if he was watching himself cutting in such a haphazard manner... Sanji smokes slowly, thoughtfully as he resigns himself to inferior _camponata_ and decides for the day he just needs to get through, get laid, and get back this nice normal routine tomorrow.

_Brine. Boil. Grill. Plan. Seduce. Fuck. _Simple as that. Just like cooking, line of the ingredients, execute the plan and it's nothing but a _fait accompli _for the seasoned chef. Soufflés fall but they can be fixed. A good chef controls everything in the kitchen it doesn't control him. Sanji lets the cigarette's nicotine calm him as he chops, moves on to the onion and closes his eyes letting himself slice by feel, knife flying, the art of the culinary design washing over him, comforting him as he feels the sharp blade easily dice through the sweet yellow flesh. He works quickly, distancing himself from the immediacy, from the urgency and works every vegetable into the proper bowl, measures spices and begins the water for the 12 hour brine. The sugar is an indulgence but the tryptophan will make the rest more lethargic- likely the shitty swordsman too but the fucker's half sloth so Sanji thinks little of it. _Bread. A good heavy bread should be readied. Pasta. Definitely pasta. It'll be more work but the heaviness will be good. Nami-san says the weather will be good the next few days at least, should be no threats so a good meal, a good sleep will be better._

Sanji has already decided their shared space will have to suffice. But that was never in question to begin with. Living at Baratie the notion of privacy was an alien concept until he's been promoted and earned his own room and he'd long grown accustomed to the various sounds of sleep, sexual gratification singular, plural, male, female. He chuckles around the cigarette remembering Zeff's fifteenth birthday present and how the shitty old man had paid for the services of one Madame Divinity. Divine, double D, deep throat, a whole slew of D words to alliterate that description and his adolescent self had merely looked up and sneered when Zeff indicated the table where she was seated. _"Hey what's this, you couldn't get new knives for the kitchen instead shitty old man?" _That was a lesson that turned him from a boy to a man who'd emerged from the bunk did to toasts and cheers from the after hours dining room.

"Oh Madame, madame…" he half sings half whispers to the plate in hand that he uses to weigh down the meat. "I am forever in your debt as long as I live." He moves in to the long long eggplants or whatever silly name the old man had given him after discarding the spent butt. Impractical, some might say obscene in their design but he'd tasted one of the nightshades earlier and it would make a perfect _camponata _even without the globe shape. He originally thought it was one of the more exotic variety but no it was far too dark and straight. Sanji works to clean the shaft quickly of each one, hands efficiently stroking, sliding, removing dirt and he takes one, considering the problem, considering the plan and considering most of all if one thing will feel like another and he finds himself slowing, squeezing, talking to himself softly, his voice just a touch too husky to be properly passed off as amusement. "No way… there is no way that shitty swordsman would come close to-

"Come close to what?"

Sanji does not startle easily. He didn't hear Zoro's footsteps. He didn't smell the usual musk of sweat- except that can't be possible since Zoro last bathed four days ago by Sanji's count- which means that Sanji has likely been far more absorbed in this bizarre vegetable fondling more deeply than he thought. Bad. Very bad. Sanji carefully, slowly sets the eggplant down not turning to look at him. There are two more in need of rinsing and defiantly, he takes another slightly longer, thicker one and as Zoro steps closer he definitely smells it now. Sanji breathes in deeply wishing he still had the warm tobacco to inhale, wishing he had something with which to occupy his tongue. He dunks the eggplant in the basin in the sink, fringe obscuring whatever movement Zoro is making to his left- at least as far as that dense idiot is concerned it does. Sanji can see him well enough as he carefully slides his right hand over the glossy skin.

"Maybe the ship should've been named the "Rolling Stone" since they're not supposed to collect any moss."

He's proud of that one. Head bowed perhaps a bit more than it ought to be he smirks, thumb carefully polishing the skin up, down, attacking the grit with a careful calloused grip.

"So can I get to the fridge?" Zoro asks as he indicates the large brining bucket blocking the door, "Or should I come back when you're finished jerking off dinner?"

"Jealous, moss ball?" Sanji tosses the line out without proper consideration for the context as he dunks the eggplant for another rinse. _Fucking idiot. If it were anyone else. If it were a normal decent guy and not some shitty meathead this would be a lot easier. _He rubs a bit harder. _Couldn't at least give me the decency of an hour to think about-_

"Thought you liked women, pervert." Zoro circles him from behind seeming to have decided to move the bucket himself. Sanji throws his leg out without turning, heel catching the side of it just as Zoro gives a sharp tug. The water slicked sides slip from between his fingers, sloshing water soaked swordsman as he lands on his ass. Sanji feels that tug of a grin remaining on his face as Zoro swears.

"I didn't say you could move it, now did I, shithead?" Sanji sets the eggplant aside picking up the last, long enough but a little shorter, slightly curved like a dark violet saber. He considers it a moment as Zoro gets to his feet, considers the comment as he balances easily on one leg holding the large bucket still.

"I like _chateaubriand_," he said at last washing the eggplant. "But that doesn't mean I would turn down even boiled shoe leather if I was starving." He strokes the vegetable just a little harder than necessary letting the dirt turned mud flick off and hit Zoro's brined dampened shirt. He didn't think it would take much but that has Zoro on his feet standing right next to him in his face and Sanji again smells him, practically tastes him near as he is.

"Just who are you calling boiled shoe leather, "Mr. Prince"?" he growls dangerously. Sanji sets the last eggplant down, wiping his hands dry on a towel. He lowers his leg and reaches for a cigarette, slow, deliberate, letting Zoro take this conversation at the pace that _he_ dictates. He lights it carelessly, the slight twitch of his leg the only indicator of how excited he is by the direction this is going.

He takes a long slow drag enjoying the warmth blossoming from his chest. Out of the corner of his eye he can see the shirt clinging to Zoro's well muscled torso. Well who would've guessed boiled shoe leather could seem so appetizing after all. _It's been too long. Way too long. You've never even been with a man and how your subconscious, your hormones, whatever the reason here you are thinking about moss head. Well… c'e la vie, right? _After all, here's an opportunity to avoid most of the guesswork and headache and while there's a certain thrill to the pursuit of a beautiful women, a glance, an exchange of subtleties and a beautiful dance there is also an equal thrill to certainty and Zoro's earlier question wasn't exactly one he'd have expected to fully the insult if he'd been truly making sport. _Mmm, no use in being coy about it then. _He exhales casually, infuriating Zoro by the way he sees shoulders bunch and tense.

"Hey-" A hand on his shoulder. He lets himself enjoy it hedonistically, lets the hard grip, the power in that hand excite him. He wants to fight- part of him would love nothing more than to sweep Zoro's feet out from under him, crack him good on the head and send him flying for his continual interruptions, his boorishness, his plain shitty mossy unpleasantness. And then there is that insidious subconscious that is becoming more fiercely insistently… conscious the more he is consciously aware of Zoro's rather real physical presence. And that hand tightens the longer Sanji remains silent as if he could push him to his knees, submit him by that grip alone. There was a woman once who'd done that. A ruthless woman who'd by stopped with her crew and a swordsman he'd guessed was at least half as proficient as Zoro judging by the way he'd carried himself. Red haired, fiery not unlike Nami and God had she ever given him two nights to remember after paying for a week's worth of food for just their small crew.

Sanji wears a smirk as he turns to face Zoro taking another disaffected drag on the cigarette. _Bet she'd teach you a thing or two as well, asshole. _He tosses his head leaving no room for misinterpretation. _Maybe I will too_. It's the eyes. Cold, hot, he can always tell by the eyes when they really want him or they really want him to fuck off… Not that it makes him stop trying regardless. He sees that spark of recognition when he allows the demeanor of his face to change and as dense as Zoro is it seems there are some instinctual human signals to which even _he's_ not entirely oblivious.

"Figure it out, or is the moss growing _inside_ your head too?" he doesn't speak the words quite as harshly as usual. He taunts him but not to fight not exactly. Which isn't to say he's not ready to kick Zoro's ass if things head in that direction but they don't seem to be- not yet at least. That hand is still there, warm, strong, but Zoro drops it with a sleepy eyed challenging look. He snorts with his usual annoyance.

"Y'know, you sure got a funny way of telling a guy you wanna fuck."

"That doesn't sound like a 'no'," Sanji answers letting the excitement take over, letting the warm flush of anticipation rise from his chest blossoming outward. He can feel it picking up like those moments when Nami lets him see that look of consideration, that unguarded "I'm thinking about it" expression that tells him his attentions will one day bear fruit if he stays the course.

But this doesn't stop at that quick flash of dangling anticipation. He does not allow that careful instinct to let the wave pass and recede with the tide. He lets it crash on the surf, lets it burn, lets everything boiling remain at that peak, instincts acute and sharp as if he truly is gearing up for a fight. It Is that heightened awareness that allows him to hear more acutely the breathing of the man in front of him increase just that small perceptible amount. He sees that flare of nostrils, wonders at whatever primitive exchange is passing subtly between their two bodies as he becomes aware of just how close Zoro is standing to him. He turns, inhale, exhale, waiting, watching, seeing Zoro's eyes flicker up, down, considering. _So he either likes men some small amount or he's just as hard up as I am. _He doesn't particularly consider that since neither should affect his decision but… But there is, Sanji admits to himself a certain narcissistic thrill when he thinks that there may have been desire somewhere in their heated rivalry.

Sanji licks his lips in spite of himself and can feel the hairs on the back of his neck bristle when Zoro chuckles amused and walks past him back to the fridge.

"Why are you trying to be so cool all of a sudden? Don't I get a 'Mellorine' or a 'Zoro-chan' for all the shit you've given me?" He gives the bucket an experimental kick sloshing more of the brine. Sanji can feel that heat rise torn between fury and horny thinking maybe he'll just give Zoro a good kick to the head and- And Zoro is talking again which Sanji has to blink and clear his head to hear. "…this damn thing and maybe I'll consider it."

"Consider it?" He asks taking a few lazy steps. "As big a mess you've made I should make you clean the floor in here with nothing but a toothbrush like they do in the marines." Sanji bends down, cigarette pressed between his lips as he moves the bucket closer to the steering wheel as out of the way as he can manage. Behind him he can hear Zoro noisily rummaging and he turns just in time to see sloppy careless gulping from the large wooden cup.

"Make me? Unless you plan on hypnotizing my with your eyebrows 'cause that's the only way _that's_ happening when it's your own damn fault to begin with." He takes another obnoxious drink and finds the cup kicked clear out of his hand splashing the remainder of the water on him in the process. Zoro swears as Sanji looks at the water soaking shirt to skin somehow even more tightly than before. He can vividly see the fabric sucked into every crevice of muscle, hug and shape and he takes an appreciative drag stepping out of the way as Zoro swings at him.

"Shit, you stupid love cook what the hell was that for?!" Sanji blocks another punch with his left leg, gritting his teeth yelling back far too distracted.

"I don't know, okay!" Which is true. A hundred percent true. A hundred percent true that he's been too long without a woman because there's no other reason that his subconscious could be so wildly out of control over one- admittedly torrid and vivid- dream.

He's almost certain that Patty once told him if you leave it go for too long it falls off. He's never been too certain on that point after any innumerable bouts of frustration but one thing does stand out as Zoro catches his dropping leg sweeping him on his back that he'd never be caught so openly under normal circumstances. He thinks the cigarette went flying off somewhere but he doesn't exactly have time to look, bringing a knee to Zoro's midsection with the intent of rolling them both over. That doesn't exactly go as planned, Zoro planted like a shitty tree and he blows the last few wisps of smoke thinking that they were right when they told him being too long at sea without a good lay could turn a man completely crazy.

He smells Zoro again as the other leans in with a soft growl to his ear and that knee falters.

"So, cook, are we gonna fight or fuck?"

Sanji takes a deep breath thinking he's never been so damn hard in his life.

"How about both?" And with that he squares his foot and kicks him hard enough to send him flying backwards outside the door.


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you everyone for your positive feedback. This has been a lot of fun to write. I should have known this would never stay 2 chapters. Shooting for 3 in any case. So close to the smut I can taste it. Warning for language, and some attempt at humor and a weird mix of voyeurism/exhibitionism that's not particularly intentional but pretty unavoidable. Also bonus points for anyone guessing the 2 random anime references in this and part 1. Enjoy and thanks for reading!

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><p>There are days when Zoro has no idea what the hell is wrong with his dick. His brain, sensible thing that it is has spend the past several hours trying to reconcile the shit in perspective of Sanji, weirdo cook extraordinaire from dickhead rival to dickhead fuckbuddy. His dick on the other hand has been jumping like a dog with a pile of meaty bones in front of it at just the faint possibility of having something to rub on or rub <em>in<em> that's not his hand. It's not a particularly welcome reminder. Desire. Lust. Those are the sorts of distractions that he cannot allow himself. If he's to become the greatest swordsman, if he's to become without peer in the entirety of the world then such things have no place in his daily training. Except of course when such needs make themselves such a nuisance they won't stand for being ignored. But that's what his right hand is there for- left as Johnny once told him when he wants to pretend it's someone else. Zoro turns his left hand over absently as he sits on the bench watching Sanji turn the second round of meat over on the grill erected over the stove.

That long suppressed juvenile part of his mind giggles at that word; erect. Zoro sighs, stabbing the wooden table with his fork in warning to Luffy's meat questing hand without needing to glance down. Good for his reflexes. Bad for his concentration. Maybe that stupid eyebrow really _had_ hypnotized him after all. He grunts in response to something Luffy says, Luffy or Usopp he's not particularly sure. More than likely it's Lufy whining about his stinginess or complaining that he's still hungry. What Zoro _is_ sure of is that whatever itch that damn cook has left him needing to scratch the fight they had earlier only made it that much worse. And sitting there in the hot kitchen while the stove is still going may be making Chopper across the table sleepy but all it's doing is making him impatient and short tempered. He notes that Nami hasn't made any annoying requests reminding him of his debt in the process which means she's either busy with work or his bad mood has somehow created a big "Do Not Disturb" aura around him to anyone even remotely paying attention.

"C'mon, Zoro you're not even eating it!" That does _not_ of course include Luffy and defiantly Zoro shoves the entire remainder of the steak in his mouth not caring how ridiculous he must look.

_How long has it been anyway, weeks? Months?_ He tries to remember as he chews rather awkwardly if there even _was_ a time since joining the Straw Hats. No, he's pretty sure it's been an endless gauntlet of fight and fight some more with a bit of ridiculous antics thrown in for good measure. That's more than fine by him but it seems that it's no longer good enough for sword number four. He looks down at the heaping side of the el diablo whatever Sanji had proclaimed while setting dishes in front of Nami and Robin prattling like an idiot about the ingredients. It's hot, spicy, and kicks his tongue's ass which makes him wonder if that wasn't designed to deter Luffy from swallowing without chewing.

He watches Luffy spitting fire after some bites and chuckles softly as he finally finishes the meat with a hard swallow. Leave it to that asshole cook to… Zoro watches him again and takes a long hard swallow of ale when Sanji bends over to retrieve what he's guessing is some other course from the oven judging by the smell. _God how's that stupid song go again? Seven days at sea can make you hungry for a poke? _It's been a helluva lot longer than seven days and come to think of it he _was_ getting laid a lot more regularly when he was on his own. He'd gone from girls to whores to a few bounties and those few times dodging a knife in the pillow had converted the rest of his bed partners from there on to criminals, murderers, or just a few dangerous one night stands that left any normal encounters lacking. He licks the scab on his lip thoughtfully, still tasting blood where Sanji's foot had split it earlier.

That was as hot as it was infuriating.

In the end it was Nami- as usual- who'd ended the fight. Maybe she was worried he'd actually kick Sanji's ass one of these days and _then_ who'd so willingly be her bitch? Zoro glances at her half in his line of sight and can't help but wonder if she really never has let Sanji perform any other services for her. Now _there's_ a conquest Sanji can have with his blessing. He diverts his eyes quickly so he doesn't stare too long and give her any weird ideas about even more ways to milk him for money. She's busy talking to Robin anyway thank God and Zoro thinks, eating more pasta that for a guy looking at him like he wanted to untie his pants with his teeth Sanji sure is a giant fucking prick tease.

"And for the ladies one extra special round of-"

"Hey, Sanji!" Luffy says nothing else as Sanji carelessly slams down a giant bowl of rustic peasant rolls which while good in their own right are nothing compared to the herbed focaccia that he's drizzling with olive oil. Zoro throws a few rolls on his plate leaving Usopp and Luffy to fight over the rest and thinks if he fucks that asshole cook _he'd_ better be the one getting the special bread for a change. Hearts in his eyes, pouring more wine, singing the praises of the angels or whatever stupid shit he's spouting, Sanji makes an ass of himself as usual. Zoro snorts into his beer knowing _that'll_ be a cold day in hell when he gets anything close to that. On second thought the women can have their fucking bread.

Luffy wants more meat and Zoro doesn't know why Sanji didn't just fry it all at once but he knows better than to actually ask. Another plate of sea king tongue is put down and of all the tongue he thought he'd be getting tonight… He curses to himself as a large gulp of beer goes down the wrong pipe and it takes every bit of willpower to hold his mouth closed, swallow the rest and at least leave his embarrassment at a loud series of coughs minus any drink spitting across the table. He has _no_ idea where that came from only knows that as he sets the glass down and nearly chokes to death on beer and on his dick's god awful sense of humor and timing that there's a rubbery hand pounding on his back. Zoro coughs harder hunched over the table as Chopper yells at Luffy that he's only making it worse. And right at that moment Sanji decides to grace them all with his seated presence walking right past Zoro the long way around the table. He stops just as Zoro starts to catch his wheezing breath and the rest of the table's stopped looking at him.

"If you choke that easily," he whispers in a low throaty voice that's a world removed from the simpering trill he throws the women, "then maybe I'll be too much for you after all." Zoro watches him take his seat, watches the slim lines of his body and that one smoldering eye as he picks the bottle back up. His first thought watching that smug bastard take his seat is that he's a fucking dead man. The second comes at the same moment when Sanji turns that visible eye to him not swooning and ridiculous but hot, heated, making him almost squirm in the seat as the redness fades from his face. _You're going to regret saying that, love cook. _Zoro doesn't look away but matches the stare with one of his own until it's Sanji whose gaze falls to the plate, shoulders tight, chest faintly twitching with a shuddering breath.

Zoro decides unlike the rest to skip dessert.

Later that night he isn't sure why exactly he had imagined more exciting scene than this. Zoro had imagined as he watched Sanji spooning rapidly melting raspberry gelato past his lips that there was going to follow some half starved groping, hastily shed clothing, half naked rutting in the shadows of the cabin outside where no one could see or maybe even five minutes of mutual masturbation in the bathroom or the cannon room or hell anything except a snippy remark to make himself scarce while Sanji went about washing the dishes like he always did. Whatever. He didn't know, didn't care what the hell was going through Sanji's mind. He had half a mind of his own to tell him he could spend the evening with Rosy and her five friends except there again came that look.

Quick, blink quick like the slash of Mihawk's sword Sanji glanced up at him from the table as he was collecting plates, cigarette dangling precariously from between his lips. He looked like he wanted to say something. Shit if Zoro's past experiences were anything to go by he looked like he wanted to cut the crap and swallow something other than smoke, but it was gone just as soon as he'd seen it and by the time he'd finished working himself into a frenzy of katas an hour after dinner he'd gone to bed he was wondering if he hadn't dreamed this entire goddamn thing. Except that Zoro doesn't often dream. If he did he might not find sleep the easy solace that it was. He isn't dreaming now as he drifts between consciousness and the warm oblivion of sleep hands behind his head on the well worn couch of the men's cabin. He might have expected sleep not to come easily but it usually did and tonight is no different.

He'd laid there at first, silently cursing Sanji and debating if it was worth waiting for them all to drift off so he could take care of the burgeoning problem on his own. In the end he'd decided that he'd pay Sanji back tomorrow with a good hard ass kicking and not give him the satisfaction of knowing that he'd gotten him good. And thus Zoro considered the matter settled in his mind even as his eyes had shut to that last tawdry image of pale blue eyes that seemed to be undressing him where he stood in those fleeting seconds in the kitchen. And it's much to his annoyance now those same blue eyes that he finds hovering above him when he opens his own at last. There are times when he sleeps deeply. There are times when he sleeps so soundly on the rough seas nothing short of a krakken or God himself can wake him; most times if he's being perfectly honest with himself. Tonight, nerves and senses on a knife's edge is not one of those nights. Zoro feels his lip curl in a growl as he looks up, eyes long accustomed to quickly adjusting in darkness. He breathes in smoke blown into his face and realizes just as he realizes that everyone else is still asleep that Sanji is in fact sitting on top of him as if he were an extension of the damn furniture.

There are some- perhaps most- who wouldn't think Roronoa Zoro to be a particularly imaginative man but while his mind doesn't wander in sleep it often does when he's awake. Not in battle- never in battle- but there are plenty of other times that he's allowed himself to drift in a haze of pictures, sometimes silent, more often not. And if he were to dream up this unlikely scenario Sanji would be sitting in a far more convenient position than he currently is. He's sitting on his legs sideways like an old chair and Zoro has half a mind to sit up and shove him off on principle. Except then he shifts and looks down and Zoro is about to yell at him to move his bony ass when he realizes with a sudden sense of arousal that Sanji's ass seated on his thighs is far from bony.

"Hey, pervert is this some weird fantasy of yours?" he hisses softly.

Sanji, for his part continues looking down and when Zoro lets his eyes move down Sanji's face with only a brief detour to those lips, he sees Sanji in far less clothing than he thinks he ever has before. The pervert sleeps one step shy of a suit for God's sake. Not tonight. Tonight he's wearing less clothing than even Zoro. Tonight is nothing but light pants loosely tied and if his body sense is true then nothing under that either. God that… shouldn't be nearly as hot as his dick is finding it. _Dammit if you're gonna do something just do it already, would ya? And do it fast 'cause I really don't want an audience for all this shit. _But it doesn't seem like Sanji's in any particular mood to be quick as he slowly tamps a few ashes into what Zoro thinks is a large seashell on the empty sideways laundry barrel- one of a million makeshift oceanic ashtrays- but he's not certain.

"Your swords," Sanji says which Zoro thinks has to be the dumbest fucking thing he's ever heard in a situation like this and he's been in a hell of a lot quite a few weirder than this.

"God help me I'll never understand what the hell weird shit goes through your head they're right there," he inclines his head back to the carefully arranged trio of swords solicitously leaned against the barrel at the other end of the couch wondering what Sanji could possibly be going on about.

"I guess I caught you off guard then." He sits back smirking, the asshole. "What happened to all that awareness you brag about, Moss Head? Too busy thinking about drawing your sword to remember how to use the other three?"

Zoro growls, the taunt lighting the usual fire, the usual drive to fight, but he tamps it down, taking a deep breath as he shifts, large hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as he debates clocking Sanji a good one or grabbing his hair and wrenching down that miserable head of his to that very "sword" he's mocking.

Instead puts his right hand on Sanji's hip.

"I know how you feel." He watches pleased as Sanji does a double blink, fingers frozen around the cigarette uncertainly. That really shouldn't be as goddamn hot as it is but watching Sanji off balance is just as nice as seeing him hot and bothered. Zoro trails that hand hard over the top of his thigh squeezing, hearing the soft hiss of breath. "I know how your legs feel, idiot," he clarifies feeling the grin start to split his face as he feel's Sanji's thigh tense beneath him. He's stiff. His body is completely taut as if he hasn't thought this through all the way. Well hell that's fine by Zoro- he's not about to let this turn into another long drawn out mind fuck and that means keeping Sanji off balance.

_Off balance huh? _Zoro takes that idea literally sitting up, that hand moving lightning quick at the same time that his legs buck that idiot off the couch. His forearm lifts up in that same moment to catch Sanji across the throat. It catches- Sanji's discipline too tight to allow him to raise him arms to block when his legs can't. It's that knowledge that makes Zoro temper the force enough just to knock him down. He hears the shell scatter as the barrel is hit from the side and he hears Sanji swear as his head cracks the hard planks past the rug. _Huh, maybe I hit him harder than I thought._

"Shitty fucking animal, what the hell do you think you're doing?!" Sanji voice halts midway to yell keeping at a harsh whisper as he looks up to where Zoro has already rather neatly rolled on top of him knees pinning his thighs both down and apart. Zoro sees the frown on Sanji's face as he remains still save for the next draw of smoke. The light illuminates enough of a shadow in his eyes before they flick to the side looking irritated. "I think you broke the shitty ashtray," Sanji says as a follow up, fingers holding the cigarette just a bit tighter than normal.

"That's not all I'm gonna break," Zoro answers moving his fingers down to the loose drawstrings of Sanji's pants. He can hear everyone breathing and really if Sanji's dead set on doing it here it seems best to skip the preliminaries before anyone wakes up and starts asking a bunch of weird questions..

He can feel Sanji's stomach muscles tighten, he can feel soft partially sticky skin against his knuckles, that light dusting of hair trailing down from his navel, can feel the tension and hear another curse as Sanji puts the cigarette out between his fingers and drops it to the side.

"What the fuck kind of thing is that to say to someone you're about to fuck, you shitty mosshead?!" That exclamation is definitely a lot louder than the last and Zoro freezes looking back to where Usopp seems to stir and where Chopper is definitely sitting up from his hammock rubbing one eye. _Dammit, are you trying to wake everyone up?! What kind of idiot just screams something that obvious?! _And it's that inattention that leaves Sanji free to yank a leg and catch him across the chest neatly reversing their positions. Zoro grunts falling back noting absently that Sanji is in a much better position this time with strong thighs straddling him. He sees the intensity of that stare boring down on him, forgets for a second the reindeer screaming that they shouldn't be fighting and God _God_ he feels Sanji's thighs squeeze tight, feels him grind slowly against him and he brings a hand up about to clamp it over that damn noisy mouth when Sanji slams it down hard by the wrist in an unusual use of his hands locking the other on either side of his head. Well hell he supposes Sanji _does_ distinguish between fighting and fucking after all.

"Who's breaking who, now?" Sanji half purrs bending down that fringe of hair starting to tickle his face. Really Zoro thought that was a perfectly sexy thing to say and that Mugen guy sure as hell liked it… that Mugen guy who'd gotten away after meeting up with his partner and trashing the bar they'd been in along with half the pier and maybe he didn't get the bounty but he wasn't half as angry about it as he should've been. Zoro smirks at him feeling Sanji's fingers to his pulse a lot harder- a lot stronger than he'd have thought the love cook could manage. He flexes his fingers and pushes up with his hips feeling friction and heat and wishing like hell Sanji would get on with it.

"If you're gonna sit like that, Mr. Dartboard, why don't you do something useful like-"

"Usopp wake up, they're gonna kill each other!"

Like maybe explaining to Chopper that for a doctor he doesn't seem to know a hell of a lot about the birds and the bees or the birds and the birds and a little medical discretion because… Because Zoro cranes his neck and looks upside down to the hammock where Usopp is looking at them both squinty eyed and dammit it if they wake up Luffy he's going to murder them both- all three- someone's going to die, that's his point here.

"Wha-? Chopper? Is it time to get up?" Zoro doesn't need to keeping looking to know that Usopp is looking over at them probably putting two and two together any minute. "Sanji?" Usopp's voice is clearing up and Zoro's jaw is clenched tight in irritation. The increased pressure to his wrist, the curl of that already curled eyebrow on Sanji's face betrays an equal annoyance and Zoro wonders what he plans on doing about this. _We couldn't do this on deck? Okay that woman's probably there but one woman is a hell of a lot better than this sideshow down here. _

"We're not fighting. We're busy. Both of you go back to sleep." And don't wake Luffy should be a given. Zoro looks up at the ceiling mentally counting down who's going to turn this into a fiasco first, flexing his fingers absently as his hands throb from the blood stoppage.

"Hey cook…" Hey, he doesn't feel like laying like this all day if Sanji isn't gonna fucking move. Hey maybe it's worth risking a move to the deck or the bathroom or hey… Hey maybe right now Sanji's attention is back to more important matters because that grip loosens back from his wrists again, pins and needles in Zoro's palms.

"If I let you go, are we doing this or can't you draw your sword in front of a crowd?" he taunts sitting back with a look promising anything. Zoro only half hears Chopper in the background as he demands to know what Sanji's doing on top of him like that if they're not fighting." Zoro works the blood back into his hands watching Sanji's nimble fingers completing the untying of drawstrings and hook ing the waistband of his pants. Usopp at least seems to figure it out with a half stammered near shriek.

"Y-you two aren't... You're not..." Sanji looks at him those fingers stopping their movement as he casts another sour look in their direction.

"We are." He looks back to Zoro with a tug to the bottom of his white shirt. "Is that part of the package or does it come off?"

"You can't do it while we're all in here!"

"Watch me," Sanji fires back flatly. _Okay seems like we're just a big ball of classy, aren't we? Fuck, Zoro, are you that desperate to fuck this asshole's asshole that you can't... Oh shit..._ Zoro hiccups or laughs or something at that stupid thought that he swallows before he just starts laughing for no reason and scares the hell out of everyone.

"You two are both men how are you..." He can see Chopper running down a mental anatomy list and that laughter is threatening to come to the forefront again. He almost drags Sanji down to kiss him just to stop it but the thought of stubbly ashtray over his face halts that thought pretty fast. Yeah, no, not happening.

"Well you know they ah..." And now Usopp tries to explain and in spite of himself Zoro can't help the eyeroll and snorts thinking if Usopp has ever even _seen _another person naked- hell he'll even give him male _or_ female- then he'll eat his shirt right here and now. "They ah..." There's another stammer and Zoro snorts again tugging his shirt up and off. They don't want to watch no one's making them after all and he's done it in far less ideal conditions than this before. He throws his shirt back up on the couch deciding the _haramaki_ would be easier to tug over his head than down where Sanji is currently sitting when Chopper's scream makes him nearly bite his tongue.

"Is that why you needed my enema bag this morning?!" Wow. That... Zoro stops midway to pulling the _haramaki_ over his head to just process that. _That sure you were getting fucked, were you? _He isn't sure whether or not to be offended or well... Well really. He snickers as he tosses the cloth on the couch along with his shirt looking at Sanji's red face as he stammers out what might be words, what might be his smoking catching up with him Zoro has no idea. Either way he laughs. Hard. Like really hard as Sanji yells back that it's no one's fucking business why he needed the shitty thing and that just sets Zoro off even more.

"Oh God you..."

"It's our business now!" That's a high pitched scream from Usopp.

"Whose business is it when all of us have to hear "Oh Kaya" ten times a week?!"

"That's different! That's a pure innocent love and not a-"

"Didn't sound so innocent to me, virgin boy."

"That's! I... Wh-who's a virgin?! I've been with hundreds of women! Thousands! They call me Long John Silver and that's not because of my-" Zoro winces blocking that out looking instead to Luffy who's somehow sleeping through this entire ordeal.

"Well shuttup already, both of you, you're going to wake Luffy up."

"M-maybe if he wakes up he'll tell you to go upstairs so we can sleep!"

"I refuse to put on such a display in front of my darling Robin's innocent eyes!"

"You know I have a "can't listen to other people doing it disease" that makes me break out in hives."

"You don't seem to have a "can't jack off where other people can hear you" disease!"

"Maybe," Zoro grits out getting sick of staring at Sanji's half naked form doing nothing useful while his hard on dies a painful death, "maybe if you wake Luffy up the idiot will want to join us."

"I'm not hearing this..." From Chopper again- muffled at least- which makes Zoro feel almost guilty but in for a penny in for a pound and at least _that_ seems to quiet everyone down.

"Guess I don't have to ask who's taking it then," Zoro murmurs at last watching Sanji shift one leg out of the thin material and then the other. His eyes are glued to the line of hair going from navel to hard cock, hands paused at the waist of his own pants just watching. Damn who knew he had a body like that? Hell who knew he was hung like that? Sanji's cock is half soft hanging down between his legs thick swollen and Sanji snorts, looking up from beneath lashes mouth moving as if he wished there were a cigarette pressed between his lips. Zoro makes a note to remember that desperate look.

"I'm doing you a favor, muscle head, I'm sure I'll have an easier time with your baby dick."

"Maybe I oughta let you choke on those words first," Zoro fires back, his cock already starting to get hard again. Yeah, that mouth on his cock, that's exactly what he needs. Sanji seems to read his mind, moving fast, hands replacing Zoro's tugging his pants off hastily, leaving one ankle stuck. He half kicks it off carelessly watching the top of Sanji's head as he kneels between his legs and looks up at last.

"Let's see what you're packing then, shithead."


	3. Chapter 3

As you can see this went from 3 parts to 4 when I realized there was no way the third chapter wasn't going to get ridiculous. And then I had inspiration and here you go. Thank you everyone who's reading! I appreciate your positive response. Once again there's a reference to an encounter with an anime character outside the series. Bonus points to anyone who gets all 3 so far. Here's where it goes from 0-pr0n so brace yourselves for a rather vivid bj and a few more attempts at humor.

Warnings for language, sex, sort of voyeurism but not willingly, and somewhat incidental exhibitionism as well.

C&C always welcome!

* * *

><p>Sanji has always considered himself a man very much aware of his own nature and failings. He has always acknowledged fault where he has found it and at least to the best of his knowledge none of those faults lie in his ability to talk to women. Needless to say it surprises him when Zoro's low whisper that follows his challenge prompts him to question whether or not he ought to drop that particular line from his repertoire.<p>

_"Bet you've never seen one that big before." _

Sanji snorts. Perhaps it's a matter of sexes. Of course a woman would not have reason to find such a statement offensive on a personal level. Then again the odds are good Zoro had made the remark along the same lines of their usual rivalry just to bait him. In which case…

"Shuttup," Sanji answers automatically finding himself staring down with every part of his self control holding his eyes back from getting comically big. He almost reaches up to his face for a cigarette that isn't there.

Big? Is Zoro shitting him? He's never considered himself a man to have anything to be ashamed of but there's a point where big morphs into obscene which is just… _Which is just why you're hard as hell just looking at it, right? _He ducks his head almost afraid that his thoughts might be read by some magic or that he- like the idiotic sky priest Chopper fought- might be speaking out loud in the madness of it all. "Thank you, Mistress Esdeath," he whispers to himself chewing on his lower lip. _Thank you for three unforgettable nights. Thank you for showing me there's so much more to sex than I ever imagined. Thank you for teaching me submission, pain, the exquisite ecstasy of kneeling before you licking your boots and allowing you_ _to strap that monster on and fuck me on my knees but… _

But it is _not_ the buxom, blue haired goddess Sanji sees when he steals a half nervous, half aroused glance upwards from beneath his long fringe. He takes that moment to recollect his thoughts because if there is one thing a gentleman does _not_ do it is envision the body of another over that of his partner. And that partner this time is Zoro. It is Roronoa Zoro stretched out with every shadow of every crevice of defined hard muscle, of broad chest, of everything that is very clearly undeniably male that greets his eyes. No, not simply male, _that_ male, that frustrating arrogant mossy muscle head who he cannot fathom giving such submission to. _That _male looking down now with an impatient lust that shouldn't make him automatically reach out and feel thick firm flesh hotly engulfed by his hand. _That is…_ Sanji swallows and looks back down, looks back to Zoro's cock heavy in his right hand as the fingers on his left curl tightly into the rug on the cabin floor. _Just who exactly is control here?_

Sanji isn't sure of the answer but somehow he _is_ certain that his answering look mirrors that same lust wrapped and ribboned with months of heated rivalry, fights for dominance, emotions running just as hot and sweaty as he feels right now. And that's the answer, he decides, letting a wicked smile cross his face. _I am. Of course I am. Because you're going to be the one who loses control here whatever you seem to think. _

"Hey mosshead," Sanji taunts calling on a long swathe of memories, of sensations, of himself as the recipient as ingredients for a perfectly delectable dish that he's about to serve up. "You might want to cover your mouth so you don't wake the Captain." He looks back down, resettling on his knees, missing but perfectly envisioning the expression of Zoro's face rising to that challenge.

"Big talk from a-"

"Just what are you two doing over there?!" Sanji hears Usopp's near shriek cut through whatever Zoro was about to say his head stays bowed halfway to contact_. "Just what does it look like?"_ is the first response that springs to mind as he lowers his face closer, breathing hotly breath blowing back when he speaks.

"I thought you didn't want to know," he teases, the playfulness in his voice for Zoro's benefit alone. He knows he's close enough now that his lips are crazy close- like steam from simmering _consommé_ so close that he can taste the scent in the air as heat condenses on his face. Above him hears Zoro swear softly under his breath as that whisper teases his sensitive skin.

"I don't!" That's too quick, too loud of a protest from Usopp followed by a rustling, fumbling, a snap click and Sanji tries to remember if those goggles can see in the dark. He might have to borrow them. If they can show more than the shadows that his eyes show, if they can illuminate more than just lights and darks… Because Sanji knows just that he knows another encounter is going to be inevitable at this juncture that he wants to see what he's doing far more vividly.

For now his other senses will have to suffice and that heat blends brilliantly with his sense of smell- Zoro sweaty and salty like braised pork shoulder.

"Don't think I'll lose to you, cook," spoken roughly, thickly, his ear detecting a hint of anticipation, he thinks aware that it might be nothing but lustful projection on his part. There isn't any damn time for him to do more than act. Sanji's mouth opens slowly, letting the tip penetrate past his lips, letting gravity, letting the hard girth spread his lips wider and his hands reach out catching Zoro's wrists right when that shift of weight, that rustle alerts him to hands looking to grab hair. But he maintains that balance amidst curses, amidst hips pushing up urging him haste, letting his teeth scrape a warning pushing foreskin back, hearing Zoro's hiss balance a sharp's knife edge of pain. _Don't fucking rush me._ He lets his hands loosen their grip feeling the pulse beneath skin ebb away faintly as his hands fall back to the tops of Zoro's strong thighs digging nails in until he can feel the swollen head brush the back of his throat.

_Breathe in, out slowly, very slowly, relax. _His arms strain holding straining hips and his can feel his own pulse increase as he breathes out, exhale, hot and humid his face damp as he feels that tickle, that automatic reflex that he ignores, flesh far more forgiving than that hard monstrosity ever was. Hard. God, Zoro is so incredibly hard but he feels the soft smooth flesh passing his lips, filling his mouth as he hollows his cheeks and gives a long slow _suckslurp_ back up, purring low in his throat as he hears the curses louder, the fumble of hands and he looks up just as the tip passes back out to see Zoro's trembling hands outlined in the dark curling what's probably his bandana, shoving it between teeth and biting it down hard. _That's one point for me then. Who's your shitty ball man now? _Sanji's laugh is nothing but a soft playful hiccup- triumphant but hot, not intending to piss Zoro off but let moss head know who's in the lead.

Like a surgeon, patient biting down on cloth while the doctor works, Sanji moves again, slowly, precisely, hearing another loud groan from behind the _haramaki_ as once more his face hits the base diving deep, slow, torturously so and he hears the _thump _of Zoro's fist pounding the rug as his hips still. Zoro's body is taut, stomach tight, Sanji catches a soft _hn_ from above him as he twists his head just a little to the right, the angle better, another desperate half gulping breath as his hands reach out, steadying on that same patch of carpet, sweaty palms trapping Zoro's with just enough of a warning before his head plunges down quick, throat scraping raw as he fucks it up and down on Zoro's cock. That _hn_ grows louder, those hands turn palms up grabbing his almost intimately, almost making him lose his balance until Zoro squeezes hard nearly making him panic at the danger to his hands but that strength stopping carefully controlled as Zoro assumes his full weight and keeps him held there.

Sanji turns his head, faintly, side to side tongue swiping anything he can manage until he backs off enough to breathe another gulping gasp of air, saliva sticky strung from his mouth to the tip of Zoro's cock, the shaft wet, in his mind's eye a glistening masterpiece reaching heavenwards to the joy of the master sculptor. Maybe Nami is right, maybe he really does say a lot of shitty nonsense. He shakes his head softly to himself considering Nami, Robin any other lady a distraction best left to the bright light of day where he can dream accompanied by rainbows and shimmering sunlight. This is dark. This is dilated pupils darkened to their utmost to even allow the outlines that he can currently see. Impulsively, he licks, long laps up, down, circling, catching Zoro's cock as his tongue bats it around and bathes, mouth catching a rebound with a strong slurp, a series of sucks letting the skin stretch as his teeth lightly, carefully tug another series of moans. His face returns to being buried- Zoro hitching tense and Sanji dares him to lose it now- as the root of that thick monster burrows once more down his throat so quickly it causes that involuntary hitch of his esophagus.

He feel Zoro squeeze his hands tighter at that motion and he forces his throat to constrict in response, hearing a soft squeak from behind the cloth, hearing Zoro breathing heavier and in turn he shifts on his knees pins and needles as the blood flow moves and hunched over he becomes acutely aware of just how fucking hard he is when his cock rubs his stomach. Sanji gasps, another squeeze of his throat and he pulls back breathless pulling his hands back encircling the base with his right giving a good hard squeeze- followed by a groan- that's followed by him reaching down with his left hand slowly rubbing hard, calloused palm heating his own cock with hot friction until he feels rather than hears the groan from his own throat, the vibration hitting lingering soreness that makes him ten times harder rather than annoyed. Raw, aching, alive, his hips tilt longingly into his sweaty palm slowly rolling around until he thinks he'll burst.

Sanji's right hand moves easily on Zoro's shaft, he can feel skin stretched but still just that bit loose and he can feel when his thumb circles the top a slow pearl of sticky wet seeping out. He looks up, watching Zoro's face looking at an impatient expression his mind fills in, looking at the heavy rise and fall of his chest and on impulse Sanji bends down and licks a long swipe across that tempting skin. He tastes salt, hears a surprised yelp and he bites down, the hard muscle of Zoro's pectoral yielding beneath his teeth. He sucks, draws in skin, feels a strong hand clutching at his shoulder but it stops short of trying to move him. Sanji moves on his own, back down, bite suck, drawing all the blood to just below the surface drawing louder moans with each inch closer back to Zoro's cock. He lets his teeth scrape over hip bone, moving back to center, letting go, letting the strange indignity of Zoro's cock slapping his face cause his eyes to fall shut and allow another soft moan escape him- a soft barely breathed "yes" not quite caught.

"You like that, mosshead?" he asks thinking that he shouldn't particularly care whether Zoro likes it or not but seeing the stopped mid nod of a head gives him a smug sense of satisfaction that is starting to outweigh whatever inhibitions he still has. Zoro, panting, removes the cloth with a slightly trembling hand.

"Why don't I show you if you think you're man enough to take it," he whispers back. They both ignore Usopp's plaintive whine insisting they ought to be finished as long as it's been followed by a half mumble asking what on earth could possibly be _that_ involved or take that long. Really, Sanji is the only one of them with any need to be up earlier than the rest but that thought flickers out like a candle light.

"You think you're man enough to give it to me? I think you were about to pass out just now." He feels more than sees by intuition the feral grin in answer.

"Why don't you try me, Curly Eyebrows? Last chance to back out if you're chicken"

"Bring it, mosshead." _If you think I don't know what I'm doing, think again. _He stops his hand from once again reaching for a cigarette that isn't there and nearly freezes when he feels Zoro's hand unexpectedly on his head.

"Ch' what the-"

"Then you better get it good and wet, cook 'cause I don't want to hear any whining later." That stops him wanting more than to give Zoro a good kick to the chest but the words more than that steely grip are what capture him. _"Get it good and wet, Sanji-chan…" _He hears the words echo back that memory of Esdeth for just long enough to merge the two into one burning desire to obey that command. It isn't Zoro that spawns the automated reaction- that unthinking acquiescence- but the ghost of a beautiful brutal woman who once did the same. He doesn't trust himself to speak, his hands twisting behind his back of their own accord, that muscle memory snaps to as his head snaps back down, to do exactly as he's told. He hears the soft "fuck" pass from Zoro's lips as he feels a second hand, feel them both guiding his head down quickly but still carefully controlled. He opens his mouth a little, just enough so that once more teeth scrape lightly down sensitive flesh as Zoro fucks his mouth hard but steady, a steady thrust back, forth, far more evenly than the tight grip in his hair would indicate.

The memory fades, that last lingering ghost of black rubber over his tongue yielding to the very real organic flesh, flesh that pulses, that quivers, that slicks over with his own saliva and feeds back to his mouth Zoro's essence with every slippery suck. He can feel it as it spills from his mouth, his heavy breathing, heat, everything making his mouth wetter, Zoro's cock wearing that wet mantle with invitation. And the invitation comes when those hands loosen and he sees Zoro sit up slowly making some vague gesture with his hands. Sanji sees him panting, can imagine the lick of lips considering and Zoro's guttural gasp of "on your knees" comes right at the same time as Usopp makes some half strangled garble of protest and Chopper ask- hoofs over his eyes- if they're done. Sanji nearly answers with a sarcastic observation that he already _is_ on his knees but he lets go of his wrists behind his back, massaging them lightly, watching Zoro crawl behind him.

"What are they doing now?" Chopper again. Sanji grits his teeth wishing he had a cigarette to bite down on looking up to his hammock and the precious tobacco he knows is up there waiting. He can see Usopp's outline not quite turned away looking suspiciously their way once more and really if he's going to lay there so awkwardly the least he could do is make himself useful.

"Hey Usopp can you pass me a-"

"I do not want any part of this!"

"Look I just need a damn-"

"I have… I have a jar in my bag that you could use for-" Sanji hears Chopper and with a weird sense of horror at the stammered attempt at being helpful and he does _not_ want him to finish that sentence under any circumstance.

"I just want a shitty cigarette you idiots!" is screamed causing Chopper to fall unceremoniously out of his hammock with another loud thud, Usopp obeying the command with a scramble. Sanji can feel nerves converging on excitement, the two warring as he looks to Luffy and registers the deep breathing that hasn't abated and nearly faints with relief when he sees the bright white sail through the air towards him while Chopper half sneaks back to his hammock. Until of course his face meets the carpet, Zoro's hand on the back of his neck like an animal driving his head forward and down. He catches himself on his hands with a curse, still being held, ass in the air. "Sonofa-"

"You're not gonna smoke that damn thing while I'm fucking you." Zoro leans forward growling the command in his ear. Sanji takes a deep breath feeling his leg twitch with the urge to take his back to a good sweaty fight but feels he strong grip at the nape of his neck send a shiver that only makes his legs reposition and spread further apart. _Shit. One point to the moss head._

"Don't say it so straightforward like that!" Usopp hangs between both hammocks like a sloth, fingers curled tightly to keep from falling.

"It's not like we're playing cards over here!" Zoro's grip tightens on him. Sanji feels almost boneless at the hard tug to his scalp and he feels a tremble in his shoulders as he sucks in a breath. He sees the cigarette rolling with the gentle sway of the ship a few more inches away on the light pile of the rug. He shifts, reaching a hand out to it the hell with that shitty swordsman and his…

Sanji feels a hand on his hip that almost tickles. It would tickle if it weren't so hard and he feels a trail down his spine, over the curve of his ass until he moves away. He can't turn his head, his peripheral vision seeing nothing but darkness and shadows. Until he feels slick wet, feels what he only can guess is two fingers too quick to tease slide in, out, Zoro swearing softly under his breath. It hurts- a little. Not too much but enough to make him want more.

"I've done this before, Mosshead," he half whispers knowing it's still loud enough for Chopper's ears and still sounds painfully loud in the dark quiet of the cabin. _I've done this before and God your dick is more alive than- _He swallows down that hateful excitement. "Just hurry it up or I'll-"

"You've done this before?!" he isn't sure who exclaims it, that hand previously stopped from the cigarette coming instead to his lips in a shushing motion. _With women! Whatever you're thinking it is completely wrong I don't like men I... _He watches Usopp clamp his free hand over his mouth eyes darting nervously to Luffy. _The hell with it._

"Just do it already." Sanji nearly turns his head to bite at the hand still holding him down by the neck when he feels wet, feels the moisture hit the crack of his ass, warm, sliding down, rubbed around the rim of his sensitive hole and his lips part a gasp to tell Zoro he better have more consideration than to spit on him like some unwashed male prostitute when he feels wetness being pushed in, rubbed, followed by the head of Zoro's cock. _Shit, I take it back do that again._ Sanji's hands curl to fists, one in from of his face, the other awkwardly wrenched behind his head and his nails scratch pulling at the rug hard as Zoro goes slow, slow, like the slow slow beam too slow, thirty seconds to seeming oblivion. Sanji swears "shit shit shit" as that bulbous cockhead opens him wide, his body pushing back, friction ache, everything reminding him it's been too long and he shouldn't be rushing- it's been too long and he needs Zoro to just go faster and faster until he catches fire like flambé.

"Fuck… Zoro…" the syllables of the name fall easier than any other ting he can think of coming with just the consonant sounds "zzz" and "rrr" that somehow seems a communication only between the two of them. "zzrrzzrr" is "hurry now, God, please" in some ancient indigenous language of fucking he's sure of it as sure as Zoro lets go of his hair, grabs both hips, dick still slick enough to slide in deep, and practically throws Sanji's body backwards. It forces the breath out of him, Zoro's strength dwarfing that of anyone else he's been with. He thinks his knees leave the ground for a spit second, his hands half scrabble for purchase on the floor as that thrust forces the breath out of him making him scream out one loud elongated "haaaah."

It's loud. Louder than any noise that anyone's made tonight. He's aware of that fact in some dim corner of his mind that makes him bring the back of his hand to his mouth and bite down hard on the soft skin, the cry tamped down to a softer throaty series of hitches. He hears Zoro dimly ask if he's okay in a low voice near his ear, his head bobs wildly yes, yes God, now would Zoro move already and wipe the smirk that Sanji can feel forming when he lifts his head back up off his stupid face. _Dammit another fucking point to him shit double damn! _Smug, stupid, shitty, swordsman just lets him wriggle, lets him pant around that hand, clench, let go, and hiss under his breath to fucking _move_ already because he's so close to tasting that brutal hard fucking that violent lurch promised.

"That's what the lapahns sound like..." Chopper whispers to Usopp uncovering his eyes as Sanji looks down and away his face red.

"Sh-shuttup…" He growls at them.

"It was more like a cat," Usopp argues back.

"No the lapahns mate just like that too." Chopper points. "But the head isn't down far enough. I think the male moves more."

"But he bit his neck." Usopp held the back of his own neck. "Right here like this. Like a cat."

"My dick doesn't have spikes on it," Zoro grumbles leaving Sanji to wish everyone would just go back to being embarrassed; he ducks his head about to tell them he isn't a giant rabbit or cat or any other stupid animal. Zoro offers a guess of a "curly brow weasel" that makes him hiss- just like the animal in question- as he resolves to murder every last one of them when this is over. That resolve lasts as long as it takes the loud bang to nearly startle him into another noise, head whipping to the sound, eyes wide as he sees exactly the cause. _Game, set, shit!_

The room is awash in light all of a sudden as the emergency door separating the men's from the women's cabins opens up, Nami looking at everyone in succession until her eyes finally settle on Zoro and Sanji on the floor in front of her. She grins honey sweet, a look that fools no one as she practically purrs.

"I think Usopp is right, Sanji-kun. It definitely sounded more like a cat."


End file.
