Battles & Outposts

"Teme!" Zoro growled, his narrowed gaze burning into the back of the idiot-cook's head.

The swordsman's rage grew ever more with each passing portion of a second as he watched the blond man who sat at the table before him. Even just the view of his back, Zoro knew that smug posture, and would bet a month's share of ale that the bastard was smirking as he rotated a slender wrist, bringing cigarette to meet lips. He wouldn't be wrong.

'I'll fix that,' Zoro thought to himself, banishing the image from his mind easily with a smack on the chef's crown with the hilt of his katana.

~Thwack!~

"Kuso-marimo!" the cook exclaimed with a wince, his leg sweeping out and around before the words even formed on his lips. Sanji's heel whizzed past the swordsman's abdomen as he dodged the retaliation. An undeniably expected reaction which he would be given no credit for reacting so swiftly to. It served its purpose, as the cook was up on his feet now, which allowed the narrowed gazes to meet.

"Kuso-cook!" Zoro shouted back, the lack of creativity never crossing his angered mind.

The blond flicked the lit cigarette into the tub of the sink, and sunk his hands into his pockets lightly, all the while his eyes never leaving their mark. As he exhaled slowly and the smoke rose between them, his expression softened back into that expected smirk.

The swordsman roared at this and lunged at the chef with his katana. The downward arc of the swing was brought to a halt as the cook deftly raised his knee to collide with the other man's forearm.

His seemingly cool composure remained. "This only proves that I'm right," his voice was calm, smug.

Another swipe of the blade, threatening to slice him from hip to hip, coolly dodged with a lightning quick sidestep. "Tell me I'm wrong. Zoro." He challenged.

A few seconds of silence that felt akin to an eternity. "Bastard!" The word spit past the swordsman's lips, as his katana was expertly sheathed.

~Shh-ca-chik!~

The blond's smirk widened at that, and he strode past the green-haired man to the icebox, ignoring how inconsiderately close his shoulder came to the other man's.

One hand slipping out of his suit-pants pocket, Sanji straightened his tie as he peered into the space. The same hand emerged seconds later with a tray of small sandwiches and cut vegetables balanced expertly on the fingertips.

"I didn't think you could." The words slipped out quietly, matter-of-factly tacked on to his last comment, as he made his way to the door out of the galley. But just before he made his exit the tan, muscled arm of the swordsman shot out to slam clenched first into the hard wood, blocking the threshold.

"I'm sure the ladies are ready for their snack. If you make me spill this tray while I kick your ass, I'll do it twice over."

Zoro hissed the words before allowing the cook to pass, "I didn't." A pause. "You only wish you could make me moan, ero-cook!"

Sanji ignored the comment and trotted along to the upper deck, out of the sight of the steaming swordsman.

As he cooed and swooned, no one could have ever suspected his mind was on anything other than the two beauties laid out there on the deck.

----------

Zoro shut the galley door on that bastard cook's heels as he left, a multi-purpose grunt surfacing from the depths of his throat as he stomped over to the table and dropped heavily onto the bench.

His eyes twitched widely for a moment as he felt the warmth of the wood beneath him. "Baka~" he muttered, sitting where Sanji had only rose from moments before.

That bastard was simply trying to humiliate him, he thought with a sharp inhale, the scent of the tobacco that still hung in the air invading his nostrils.

A smell that was so undeniably Sanji.

"Baka!!!" Zoro snarled and slammed a fist down on the wooden table.

Outside, Luffy's head perked up at the sound of a thud. He looked around blankly for a moment before his interest drifted back to the fishing pole in his hand.

'Who does that asshole cook think he is. As though he has any sort of control over me!' The swordsman scoffed at his thoughts.

Zoro recalled many a time during their stolen midnight moments aboard the Merry that he had to remind the other to quiet his cries. Though not once - not once even to this very moment - did Sanji ever have to remind the swordsman of his volume.

"Baka," Zoro shouted again in frustration at the walls.

Up deck in the light of the sun Sanji fussed over the females. "Moronic marimo," he muttered to the sea as the other man's voice rose out over the ship, audible to all.

Making sure once again that their tastes were met and their cups were full, Sanji excused himself with a smile and a bow to 'make sure Moss-for-brains wasn't wrecking his kitchen.'

"Oi, Marimo," Sanji said as he rolled in with the sunlight that spilled through the open galley door. The bright retreated but the cook did not as he closed the door behind him. "What do you think you're doing in here?"

The frame of the muscled man at the table made no sign of movement or response.

Sanji lit a cigarette from his place by the door, and exhaled with a sigh. Zoro listened to the foot falls as the other man closed the few steps between them, and again made no move when the cook's hand came to rest on his shoulder.

And again nothing as the man's soft thumb traced the curve of his neck.

A few moments later the hand dropped away as Sanji moved to snuff out the ember of his cigarette in the ashtray on the table. "Oi," he repeated.

When he again received no response, he moved to the man's right, the edge of the table, and bent down to rest his head in his palm, elbow on the table, to look the other man in the eyes.

Before he could settle himself in this position, Zoro's hand shot up without a sound and tangled it's fingers in the blond's silky hair. Sanji made no move to defend, only tried to gaze back at the green-haired man, head tilted at an awkward angle, hair tickling his eyes. Defiant to the last.

The hand pulled his head forward just enough to bring his lips to the other man's, a shadow of a hairs width between the soft flesh. Sanji's breath was calm, but the smell of tobacco and the knowledge of something much sweeter beyond that made Zoro ache for the contact, the taste.

But he restrained.

There were so many sentences, so many quips and shots that came to his mind in the few moments that passed, but he kept silent, simply staring at the other man, searching.

When he was sure to his satisfaction of the want in the others eye he let his fingers loosen and slip through the fine blond strands, pushing the cook's head away in dismissal as they fell away.

"Baka," he whispered again as he rose and left the room.

Standing slowly, Sanji brushed the disturbed strands back into place as he watched out thoughtfully through the open door as Zoro turned out of sight.

Straightening his tie again, he found himself scolding his tongue as it danced lightly across his lips, as if to steal whatever taste it could after such an encounter.

"Bastard marimo..." he muttered to the breeze that entered from the open door, smiling secretly to himself.

----------

Even from the first confused moment where it all began, just nearly a month ago, there was no denying Zoro's ego held issue with the situation, whether or not his body agreed.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING, ERO-COOK?!" Zoro's shout echoed off the trees above them, and somewhere close by a bird flapped it's wings, seemingly annoyed at the disturbance.

Zoro's hands pushed roughly against Sanji's chest below him as he tried to break himself from the cook. Moments before it had been him that slammed the smaller body to the ground amidst one of their usual scuffles during these trips, quite set on wringing the bastard's neck.

The crew had taken pause at a 'mystery island!' at Luffy's order, and the two quarreling comrades had been sent out to collect edibles, as per usual. There was nothing usual about the situation this time, however.

Sanji landed heavily and with a thud onto the brush, finding himself below the muscled swordsman. "Like hell," he snarled up at the other man, "would I lose to a moronic marimo!"

"Your pack is probably stuffed with week-old carcasses and rotten fruit you picked off the ground," he continued as a bony knee flew up to crack into the swordsman's back.

A low angry growl escaped Zoro at the impact, and only worked to heighten his rage. "Bastard love-cook!" He grabbed Sanji by the shoulders and picked him up just enough to slam him back down again harshly. Not a seconds pause between the motion did his left hand leave the blond's shoulder in a move to draw his katana.

That hand was not quite as quick as the chef's legs, however.

They curled out around the frame on top of him, and encircled the swordsman's waist, locking behind his back.

Zoro's body stiffened and his eyes widened as he stared down at the face of the man below him. It was only then that he really realized what a position they were in. "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING, ERO-COOK?!"

'Dammit,' Sanji thought to himself then as he looked up at the furrowed brow and snarled mouth above him - a look of confusion, not quite touching on horror. "What AM I doing?' But he knew. He knew full well.

He knew exactly the response his body had given as the green-haired man's hips had been thrust against him during the recoil of the kneeing. So briefly, but so easily making him forget his own anger.

And he knew exactly the response his body was currently giving as the larger man wriggled against him in attempts to free himself, the swordsman's strong expert hands pushing against each shoulder. Unintentionally pinning him just as he had the swordsman.

He tightened his legs around the man.

"Oi, what are you doing, you bastard?!" Zoro asked again, no less impatient. His mind raced. Damn Sanji's strength, damn his own weakness to be caught in such a way!

At that same moment, Sanji was cursing his own weakness as he became aware of the burning between his legs. It was no secret from himself that he wanted the other man. No secret that the sight of him after his daily training stayed in Sanji's mind long after he'd drifted to sleep.

This though... 'Sanji, you IDIOT!' he scolded himself inwardly. 'You'd better hope he kills you right here, lest you never be able to lift your head again in his presence!'

That settled it, however. And rather simply. If he was going to die, he was going to make it worth it. As his legs had tightened around the waist of the muscled swordsman, Sanji rolled his hips, pressing his half-erect desire into the other man for the briefest of moments. All the while staring up at the face above him.

"Gh!" Zoro exclaimed in his sudden shock, eyes widening ever more. They quickly narrowed though, and lightning fast Zoro's fist slammed down into the dirt not an inch from Sanji's ear.

"Did you hit your head on the way down?! Oi, Sanji!" He smacked the man's face, "Do I look like Nami, you prick?!"

Zoro watched in disbelieving horror as the cook's pale hand came to rest on his stomach and thin fingers snaked up to his muscled chest. Sanji inhaled sharply, both at the pleasure of finally touching the swordsman in such a way, and in a sort of questioning fear.

"No," Sanji replied slowly, his mouth dry, voice gravely, unfazed by the impact of his face. "Nami has breasts." His eyes never left the other man's face, watching, begging for his expression to soften.

Zoro wriggled more fiercely under the pressure of Sanji's locked legs, his mind trying to deny what he felt there between their bodies, "What the fuck kind of joke is this?!" he barked, and tore Sanji's hand from his body and threw it aside.

The cook ignored the question and ignored the denial of his touch, bringing his other hand up to Zoro's struggling face. His thumb brushing against the others soft lips only briefly before his head was thrown in the other direction, again denying the contact.

"But she doesn't have those lips."

"I'll kill you!" Zoro roared, his hands now moving behind his back in an attempt to pry the cook's ankles apart.

"That's fine," The speed of Sanji's breathing betrayed the calm of his voice. Consequence had been thrown overboard by now, and the cook simply no longer cared. Even for his own life in this moment.

Zoro was horrified by now, as his fingers tore at cook's ankles, gripping the pant legs and yanking at awkward angles in an attempt to free himself. 'Bastard! Bastard! Fuck! Fucking Bastard!' he cursed in his mind.

By now there was no denying what was going on, and certainly no denying the stiff length that separated their bodies. Those were not priorities at the moment however, his mind was much more occupied blocking other truths.

This time both of Sanji's hands came into play, as slender wrists and arms slid out to snake around Zoro's neck. The swordsman had no time to react before the words that followed brought him to immobility.

"Her lips aren't the ones I want pressed to mine. Her chest not the one I want to feel against my own." His fingers danced in the hair at the back of the other man's neck.

Zoro was frozen there, and his mind raced ever still, even as his head was brought down close... close to the other man's breath as it escaped his lips in small panting exhales. Close to the other man's lips, parted just so. But worst of all, closer to his eyes, the shining blue orbs that Zoro's own now refused to meet.

As the green-haired man stared set at the dirt that surrounded their bodies, Sanji's head lifted ever so slowly, cautiously, to bring his lips to the swordsman's neck. He felt as the muscles quickly tightened and locked under the contact. It spelled danger for the cook.

Zoro's right hand quickly locked in Sanji's hair, slamming his head back to the ground, as his left came up to lock around the man's throat. "I'll kill you." His voice came out in a dark whisper.

Sanji made not even a flinch as his head was slammed into the ground once again. He held his posture, legs around Zoro's back, arms around his neck.

As he looked up at the swordsman's face, Sanji saw his eyes were still set elsewhere, but this didn't deter his gaze.

His response was simple.

True.

Effective.

And the truth of it spoke more for both of them than anything could.

"You haven't."

With an expression of stunned curiosity, Zoro brought his eyes to finally again meet the others. There was nothing he could say. With those two simple words the well hidden truth was exposed.

That gaze lasted for what seemed an eternity as they searched the others expression, until the moment was broken by the tightening of Zoro's grip in the cook's hair.

Sanji finally winced, though not from pain. Instead, simply because he didn't know what to expect next. His eyes closed as his face twitched, awaiting blindly whatever was to come.

The hand at the cook's throat slid over to the curve of his neck, slowly following along the soft skin in an almost tender touch. Just as quickly however, the digits came to grip Sanji's jaw. 'Too much to have hoped,' he thought to himself at the rough touch, gaze dropping, even behind the closed lids.

As a sigh attempted to sneak past the blond's lips, it was stopped suddenly in it's travel by a sharp surprised inhale. Sanji's eyes shot open, and his legs fell away from the swordsman's body, heels falling to the ground without resistance.

Eyes wide, he stared up at the trees in shock, mindless of the beauty of the sun as it broke through the canopy of green. He saw nothing, every thought erased. For the longest moment, and also the shortest, he only felt.

Felt the warmth of the larger man's lips caressing the flesh of his neck, as the grip on his jaw loosened. Felt how soft that sharp tongue could be as it danced across his skin, tasting him. Sanji's body shivered as that sweet warmth traveled slowly up his neck, those lips coming to wrap around the lobe of his ear, gentle suction.

The cook exhaled slowly as the contact ceased, damp flesh tingling as a breeze fell across it. He had in fact, forgotten to breathe for those few slow, savored moments.

"I haven't yet," the swordsman whispered in his ear then, letting loose his fingers in Sanji's hair before straightening himself. Sanji let his arms fall from the man's shoulders as the two gazed at one another then. The cook's face a portrait of questioning disbelief while Zoro's shown nothing.

Sanji felt as if his entire body slumped and deflated with sadness as Zoro removed himself and stood up slowly.

"Dinner will be late. Let's go, kuso-cook." He said, his voice revealing nothing, as he extended a hand to Sanji.

----------

The walk back to the crew's camp was silent and heavy, Sanji following Zoro just a few steps behind.

The air was thick with a thousand questions, but the only sounds brave enough to break the silence were from the occasional shift as one of them hoisted their packs more comfortably, and the soft rattle of Zoro's katana at his waist.


"Oi! Zoro, Sanji! I hope you brought a lot of meat!" Shouted Luffy with a grin as he waved from his seat opposite Usopp and Chopper. Nami and Robin weren't to be seen.

With a stretch the Captain quickly snatched the packs from their grip and brought them to his seat. "Oi, Luffy! He has to cook it first!" Chopper scolded as Luffy's head dove into one bag.

Looking up from the project in his hands, Usopp motioned toward the retreating form of Zoro as he headed off back into the trees without a word.

"Where's he going?" he asked Sanji.

Lifting one hand thoughtfully to rub his neck as he watched on after the shrinking frame, he questioned somewhere inside his mind if such lips had truly graced the skin there.

"Che. Like I could know what that idiot marimo is thinking," he said dismissively, quickly making move to begin the preparations of dinner absentmindedly.

----------

Zoro dropped heavily against the trunk of a sturdy tree when he was sure he no longer heard Luffy's laughter following behind him on the breeze. Ankles crossed, arms folding behind his head, he closed his eyes, his expression far from peaceful despite his surroundings.

What the hell had just happened? What the hell had he just done?

'You pressed your lips to another man's skin', his mind replied.

His eyes squeezed tighter shut, and his fists clenched, the muscles in his arms flexing in the force.

'Sanji's skin,' his mind continued, as if to rub salt in the wound.

Zoro ran his tongue over his lips, top then bottom, unable to ignore the internal question of whether the taste remained.

It was gone.

Maybe it never happened at all. Maybe it was some cruel hallucination. His eyes drifted open at that thought, hopeful, but Zoro came to find the proof of it's reality quickly. He stared down at the smudges of dirt on his knees.

The image popped into his mind of those blue eyes and their owner staring up from below him, and something stirred inside the swordsman, if only for a moment before the image was banished.

He reached to try to rub the dirt from his clothing. But still he couldn't stop it.

'It happened. And you liked it.' His mind continued to taunt him, to betray him. 'You liked the taste of him, the feel of his skin... and you liked it when he tasted you.'

"Grah!" he exclaimed quietly, hands coming down to pound into the grass on either side of him. "I must be going crazy. Maybe I'm the one who hit their head."

The cruel voice inside of him denied him even that, with a simple 'No,' and he released a sigh of forfeit.

It's hard to fight an enemy who has outposts inside your head.

----------

"Oi... Zoro." Sanji's blond head peeked over the lip of the Crow's Nest, shining strands behind pulled this way and that by the wind. Those were the first words spoken directly between the two in a week.

The Merry seemed much less eventful without their bickering, though the rest of the crew hardly noticed, their patience thoroughly tested by Luffy's everyday antics.

It was a weight only those two alone felt.

Zoro offered a passing glance to the blond before returning his eyes to the starry horizon, followed by a disinterested, "Eh?"

One long black-clad leg brought its way over into the Nest. "You've kept watch every night this week. Chopper sent me up here. He wants you to get some sleep. I'll take over."

A grunt from the swordsman. "I'm fine. You can leave. Tell him I've had my naps."

In truth, the usual slumbering Zoro seemed to have fled since their encounter under the trees, and he could do well with a good night's rest, but his mind wouldn't allow it.

A second slender, deceptively strong, leg came down into the Nest, and the spark of a lighter was heard as Sanji lit up, leaning there against the rail.

"Doctor's orders." The words came out with a cloud of smoke that Sanji watched as it drifted up into nothingness.

Zoro ignored the words, and indeed ignored the man next to him as he kept his eyes set on the waters.

"Oi." A few hits from the cigarette later came Sanji's voice. As well as the heel of his boot nudging the bottom of Zoro's.

The swordsman shifted but made no move to leave his post.

"Stubborn bastard."

"Shut up, cook." Quick glance shot in the blond's direction, hinting as a warning.

Another length of silence followed.

Sanji finished his cigarette and flicked it into the waves that lapped around the ship.

"I never knew you were that stubborn, though." The cook muttered thoughtfully, eyes set on the opposite horizon.

Finally turning his gaze to fall upon the man next to him, Zoro's eyes were dark, impatient. "I'll deal with Chopper in the morning. I said you can leave."

Seemingly ignoring his words, Sanji continued his thoughtful mumblings. "To deny yourself sleep... and what you desire." He really didn't have much to put behind his words, as he had done the same for the longest time, not allowing himself to show his interest in the green-haired moron.

He found himself rather surprised when the swordsman made no move to attack him for his words. He took this as a good sign and continued.

The cook spoke slowly. "Denying it even as it's right in front of you..."

Sanji leveled his gaze to meet Zoro's, the other man's face a portrait of annoyance and frustration. However, the canvas was quickly cleared when the artist realized it was on display. The slight upturn of Sanji's lip the giveaway.

Zoro found himself at a loss for words, though he really held no intention of giving the cook a contributing response as it was. Though when he went to speak, his voice betrayed his stern expression.

"Get out of here, Sanji." It came out a failing whisper.

The blond thought about this for a moment, debating just how unwise it would be to push his luck. With a tilt of his hips shifting his weight to his other leg, he replied with one simple word.

"No."

A rumble of a growl grew from Zoro's chest.

"I'm not like you. What I desire is right in front of me."

He paused a moment as he sank down to sit opposite Zoro in the Crow's Nest.

"And I don't plan on turning my back on it."

Again the phrase whispered in Zoro's mind: 'It's hard to fight an enemy who has outposts inside your head.'

This bastard. What did he think he was doing. And acting so cocky about it. So confident. Ignoring him for these past days has done nothing. Zoro's hope that it would all go away, shattered. His hope that it could all be ignored.

No, it was too late for that, that bastard voice in his head told him. That ended the second your lips met his skin.

His skin.

Zoro took note of the glow on the cook's cheek and collar-hugged neck, at the brightness in his eyes even in the dark, and again took notice of the way his hair shone.

He cursed the moon for all it did. Cursed the wind that made those locks dance. But all the hexes and voodoo in the world wouldn't change the fact that he found this man to be beautiful. But fuck if he'd ever admit it outside his tortured mind.

Damned if he'd ever admit that even down to the way the man moved his body, it was sexy.

Sexy! he thought to himself. Beautiful! he added. What kind of thoughts are those to be having for another man? That's right, Zoro! You're a man! And men like women!

His mind derailed then. And where the fuck does he get off claiming it's me wants when he's marching to the beat of Nami's drum all day, all hearts-for-eyes?

Zoro knew the logic of it all, but failed to accept it at the moment because it could only lead to one conclusion. A conclusion, however, that would be reached all the same.

Though even still, he refused to acknowledge the word. Even as it roared across the tracks in his mind with all the rest.

But he couldn't ignore his body.


That was the first night their lips met, and the second time they tasted of each others skin. And the first night in a week that either of them slept peacefully, slumped shoulder to shoulder in the cradle of the Crow's Nest.

----------

Sanji stood there in the galley after Zoro's exit, alone with only his thoughts. While so confident in his actions only minutes before, he now began to question the effect his accusations had brought forth.

It was all too obvious how very uncomfortable Zoro was with the situation, even as they slowly grew more and more comfortable with the others bodies. The feel of the others fingers brushing across their skin, lips on their own, tongues dancing together.

What else could Sanji do to try to bring the swordsman out of his thick shell of denial? Conflict had always been their way with each other, yes, but was it so wrong for him to want the other man to open up just the slightest, and let through those tender touches that teased the cook so sweetly before being ripped away and pulled back into the indifferent disguise?

Yes, Sanji could tell from those fleeting caresses that the green-headed marimo wanted to show something more than he would allow himself. And the cook desperately longed for just that.

Even still, though, he questioned if he hadn't tried to force the reaction he so desired too quickly, attempting to force the man to admit to what Sanji undoubtedly heard. Something that, if owned up to, would mean much more than the simple admittance of pleasure.

----------

The ship was asleep. The room was dark and quiet save for the hushed pants and whimpers and moans that fell past Sanji's lips into the still, warm air.

There the cook lay, his body resting against the swordsman, bare back meeting the heated flesh of the man's chest as that warm tongue licked over his shoulder and neck.

He found himself, as ever, slightly surprised at how expertly those hands moved along his body in the dark, never doubting the direction of their travel. The hands that belonged to a man who so easily became so hopelessly lost.

In his thoughts though, it wasn't all that surprising. In the end, Zoro always ended up right where he needed to be, didn't he?

And this moment wasn't any different, as one strong hand roamed over his chest, just hinting at a caress, and the other came to unhook the cook's belt, seemingly at the same time defeating the button and zipper that parted him from his goal.

Sanji whispered the man's name with a voice full of desire as Zoro's right hand sunk past the smaller man's waistline and the digits came to wrap themselves around his arousal.

His hips rolled into the touch, and with that movement he could feel more prominently the other man's own hardened desire pressing against the small of his back.

A shiver struck through him and a moan rolled over his tongue. Apparently too loud, prompting that hand to tighten deliciously around his erection, tugging slightly as the voice in his ear sternly ordered him to quiet.

The cook bit his lip and writhed pleasure-fully, skin sliding smoothly against the damp flesh between them. Zoro freed him from what fabric was left covering the area and slowly began to pump the rod of fiery flesh, his own hips rolling into Sanji's body, mirroring the motion.

Sanji lost himself in the feeling, sharp exhales and whimpers breaking free from his throat despite his attempts to deny them. His body drank in every touch, ever thirsty for more.

More shivers and shakes flew through him with every roll of his nipple between calloused fingertips, every nip and suck at his neck, and even more powerfully at every pass of the man's thumb across his tip.

Zoro could feel as Sanji grew ever closer to climax, and never slowing his rhythm, let his free hand - that tanned, muscled arm - slip under Sanji and hike the man's smaller frame up higher against his body.

Their shoulders met and the cook took no pause to turn and tilt his head to allow his mouth to meet his lover's (could he call him that?) jawline, laying feverish kisses there between each stifled moan as the man brought him closer to the edge.

Zoro's breathing grew less even as he coaxed that moment closer with each movement he made, but still he made no sound. Not even as he felt the body above him tense and twitch, and felt the warm liquid fall over his fist.

Not even as he pressed his own fabric-trapped erection against Sanji's round ass (a place he had yet to explore), pulling the cook's body down tight against him as he writhed and rolled, moving with his orgasm.

The only sound that gave Sanji any hint of the others enjoyment was a slow, quiet exhale as the cook's body melted atop him, and the kisses against his skin turned instead to slow, tickling, satisfied breaths.

And still it made the blond smile there in the dark, that small sign that the pleasure wasn't just his own.

The swordsman's hand let loose the softened flesh and moved to lock wrists with the other arm around the chef's sweat-damp chest. Letting the other man catch his breath, and maybe, Sanji hoped, savoring the afterglow along with him.

"Oi, Zor-" Moments later came the breathy attempt of the blond's words which were quickly cut off by the sealing of the other man's lips against his own.

Sanji melted into the kiss, putting up no fight, and let one pleasure-weak arm snake up and around the neck of the larger man, fingers content to twist and twirl in the short green hair.

Their lips lingered that way for the sweetest of lengths before parting as Sanji lifted himself from the other man's frame only to turn his direction and settle himself between Zoro's legs.

The cook leaned in on all fours for another kiss, hungrier this time, deeper, letting his tongue dive into the warm, steel-sweet depths of the others mouth.

The kiss was returned with equal fervor as Zoro's hand reach up to brush through Sanji's hair, running slowly over his neck and down his bare back before quickly being stole away.

The cook's gentle hands moved to rest on each of Zoro's thighs as he broke himself away from the kiss. Thumbs rubbing slow circles into the fabric of the man's pants, his mouth slowly moved through the darkness to fall upon the swordsman's neck.

There he laid soft kisses, sucking gently here and there, licking up and down the curve his tongue found there.

He spoke between his tongues ministrations. "I know you can't see me." A kiss. A nip. "But close your eyes."

Sanji knew the swordsman, ever alert, and was correct that his lids remained raised even in the pitch that fell around them.

One set of soft fingertips parted from the man's leg and drifted up his chest, past the scar that rest there, with gentle tickling touches to find their way to his face, to his forehead, and to carefully trickle down, coaxing those green eyes closed.

Zoro didn't like orders in any situation, but he allowed himself to comply when he felt the touch of Sanji's hands sneak down his body.

His left hand sliding slowly down his cheek, past his collarbone, the skin there quickly regaining the attention of the cook's lips while his right hand found the warmth between the swordsman's legs and slowly rubbed over the fabric of his pants.

"A flavor I'll never tire of," whispered the cook as his tongue explored the muscled flesh before it, his breath tickling deliciously.

Lower and lower his mouth traveled as the hand between Zoro's legs continued it's work, tongue dancing over the flesh it had met so many times before, yet was never enough.

The swordsman's head fell back to rest against the crate behind him, and he kept his eyes closed as he drank in the experience, doing his best to silence the resistance in his head.

Sanji's tongue dipped into Zoro's belly button when it reached it, causing the man's desire to stir ever stronger as it swirled in and out and around as he tried his best to lower the swordsman's pants without much disturbance.

The cook had never tasted further than that, and when Zoro felt his hot breath travel further down, to lick and suck upon his hip bone, with a slight tilt of the head he became cautiously aware.

"Close your eyes," Sanji muttered, sensing the swordsman's reaction. "And relax," he added, punctuating the command with a hand that came to grip the man's length. He smiled again to himself as he felt the other man's stomach sink with an intake of breath at the touch. But not a sound.

Slowly he stroked Zoro's desire as his tongue lazily, tauntingly slow, worked along the flesh of the man's abdomen.

Moving just the smallest bit lower prompted Zoro to lift his head to look down through the darkness, and bring a hand out to stop the cook. A hand that was quickly batted away.

"Can't the cook have a taste?" Sanji replied to the attempt, teasingly. He added quite seriously, in a lust-wrapped voice, "I want to taste you," before returning hot mouth to damp flesh.

Zoro swallowed hard before he could speak the word he intended, and Sanji smiled again when he heard the effort.

"Don't."

The cook didn't pause.

"Sanji. Don't." The words came more forceful now. and again he reached out to stop him.

The blond caught his hand, this time not throwing it aside, but instead as he again directed Zoro to "Just relax..." guided the hand to rest on the top of his head, using whatever force he had to to keep it there as he lowered his lips the final length to meet their target.

A gasp that attempted to escape the swordsman was quickly caught as his hips twitched forward involuntarily at the contact. Sanji moaned around his length, the warmth of him just cradling the man's tip as his tongue danced softly against the flesh.

The cook released the swordsman's hand as his fingers splayed in the blond hair, a tentative touch that slowly dropped to his shoulder as Sanji's mouth sunk lower around his arousal.

Zoro wanted to stop him. He really did. But that will was easily held at bay by the equal desire he held to push himself deeper into the warm confines of Sanji's mouth. The even, yet unfair, battle left him holding his body stiff, unable to take action either way.

He felt he would burst right then, but each assumed limit was proven false as those warm soft lips fell and rose over him.

As that velvet tongue pressed against his hardness, or was dipped into the slit of his tip, tasting just as the cook had promised.

The last thought the swordsman had during the encounter that didn't involve the work of the cook slipped into his mind as quickly as it left.

"...and if the enemy is in your pants...?"


When Sanji felt that strong hand clamp tight but gentle on his shoulder, he knew the man had finally surrendered. He felt as he finally relaxed, felt the tension he held slip away at the attention the cook was giving.

His surrender was Sanji's as well.

The cook gave in to his tongue's own exploration and allowed his mouths challenges of just how far he could take the man in, just how quickly those wanting lips could make their way along that indescribable flesh.

Sanji tried his best to keep his moans around the man's length silent, not wanting to ruin things with a scolding.

Zoro was thankful of the darkness that hid his face as he bit his lip and hid his free hand as it choked and released the air.

He could feel he was about to climax and the hand on the cook's shoulder made move to push him away.

A clearing of his throat. "Sanji... Stop..." It took enormous effort not to pant the words.

The cook knew what he meant and in a show of set defiance against the words he replied in his own way. And it did not involved removing himself from the current situation.

Quite the opposite, actually.

Seconds later found his lips firmly wrapped around the base of Zoro's length, right hand keeping firm pressure on his abdomen while his left cupped and gently massaged the flesh just below his erection.

Zoro couldn't stop the release as his head was pressed firmly against the back of the other man's throat, tongue dancing around the stiffness, as if begging for the taste.

"Grh-" Zoro clenched his teeth as the orgasm shook through him, nails digging into the smaller man's shoulder as his body rolled. "-uhhnh..."

Every lap of that tongue along him, gathering every bit that it could, sent another shudder through his body as he rode that pleasureful wave.

Sanji moaned and whimpered with every twitch, every spasm, every drop that met his tongue, and even when there was none left to taste was reluctant to part, reluctant for an end.


Settled against the jelly heap of the green-haired man's body, Sanji whispered into the darkness of that glorious flavor, though his comments were met only with the quiet breathing of the other man, whose arm was draped lightly around his shoulder.

"I do believe I've discovered the great swordsman's weakness," the words came out with a soft giggle as he kissed the corner of Zoro's lips.

'The great swordsman' feigned sleep until the cook left quietly to take care of the mess his own release had created on his suit pants, and undoubtedly to have a cigarette.

Laying there in the silent dark, one word rang through Zoro's head.

Weakness....

((Note: Omaigawd, please remember this is the first time I've ever written anything like this!))

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Zoro lay there after his exit from the galley, propped against the railings on deck, legs folded, katana at his side. The sun was warm on his face as he looked up into the cloudless sky.

The smell of tobacco was only just starting to retreat from his senses, but the sensation of Sanji's lips so close to his was still present in his mind.

He closed his eyes against the breeze and let himself imagine that as it stole past him it pulled his anger along with it. To places far from him, lost on the great expanse of the sea.

The swordsman stayed that way for minutes unmarked and allowed all his thoughts to drift away on the wind, until only the warmth from the sun and the rocking of the ship were noticeable.

On an average day this would spell nap-time for the man, but today even his best efforts were laid to waste as thoughts returned to spoil the relaxation.

His mind traveled back to recall every battle he'd fought, from the bounties that paid for his meals before the Straw Hats, and each one that followed.

Each battle was fought without regret and given his all without reserve. All for his promise, and his nakama.

Each scar that marked his skin a landmark that led the road to victory. Every nick on his precious Wadō Ichimonji the same.

In those memories there were no regrets.

So, why, he wondered now, did he let that groundless idea that he |might| |eventually| come to regret his relati...- actions with Sanji hold him back so much? Was that not regret in itself, if it held the power to stifle him in such a way?

No. It was pride.

A stupid kind of pride that only brought ruin. A ridiculous sort of pride that could become so terribly agitated at one simple word.

Gah, Sanji should have known better than to use that word! But Zoro couldn't blame the man, much as his actions displayed otherwise. The intent was harmless, despite his cocky attitude regarding the situation afterward.

But still the cook should have known better than to use that word!

Weakness.... The breeze betrayed him and brought it back to meet his ears.

Here he was fighting a battle within himself, that could end in both their defeat. Though he would barely admit it to himself, Zoro was ashamed of being ashamed at their situation.

Half of him wanted to walk back into that room, pull the idiot cook close, enfold him in his arms and kiss him 'til his knees gave. And the other... well, the other wished the crew had never dropped anchor at that island where it all began.

But where would you be now? He asked himself. Still admiring the way the cook moved, the way he fought, and the way he stared out into the sea each night, taking in that last cigarette before sleep, all the while as the insults flew between you?

You do that now.

And more.

What's to regret? What warrants pride in denying yourself what you desire?

He realized then just how true the blond-haired man's words were that night in the Crow's Nest.

And in those thoughts, he remembered how it felt that first moment their lips met and he felt that man in his arms. A slight blush rose on his cheeks then as he recalled the newness of that experience.

Going over that night in his head brought an air of calmness to rest and wrap around the troubled swordsman.

He wouldn't realize the connection until he awoke, but it was the thought of Sanji - of he and Sanji together - that eased his troubled mind in that moment enough to allow him to drift off to sleep as he lay there on the deck among waves and wind.

Perhaps that reality would be enough to stomp that foolish pride he held and replace it with another.

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"Oi, Zoro."

He vaguely became aware of the figure crouched before him. Then slowly realized the darkness as he peeked through one heavy lid.

"Hey, wake up," came the voice again, followed by a nudge against his shoulder.

The swordsman grumbled, and with a stretch replied though a yawn, "What?"

Sanji knelt there on one knee peering at the man in front of him. "It's your watch," he explained.

A grunt from the waking beast.

"And you slept through dinner," he added.

A disinterested "Eh. I'll be okay," as the man rose and stretched again, and fastened his katana to his haramaki.

"Mm. I suppose you don't want this then?" Sanji asked, picking up the plate he'd set on the ship's rail before waking him.

He handed it to the other man, and Zoro was surprised to find that the plate was warm, despite dinner being hours before. When he lifted his eyes again, Sanji was already walking off. He looked down at the plate again, and lifted a bite.

"Oi, Sanji..."

The blond paused to glance over his shoulder at the green-haired man, just in time to watch that bite slip into his mouth.

"Thanks," Zoro mumbled through the food, "It's good."

Sanji threw a half-smile over his shoulder and waved with a flick of his wrist. "Night, marimo."

A small smile of his own peeking out from the corner of his lips. "Night, shitty cook."

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Early the next morning as the cook entered the galley to start breakfast, his eyes caught on the one small white plate that sat lonely in the dish rack, and he couldn't help but chuckle.

The bastard actually washed it.

With neither speaking the sentiment, the apologies had been made, and their points had been driven home wordlessly.

Such were the things that worked for the two men. They'd fight with venom, and mend with silence.


Sanji went about his work in the kitchen, chopping, stirring and cooking all with a smile on his face.

A smile that only grew larger as he pretended not to notice the light footsteps coming up at his back. And larger still when a pair of strong sun-kissed arms snaked around his body.

Zoro lay his head on the man's shoulder, leaning body to body, and kissed his ear. "Surprised?"

The cook gave a short laugh as he tended to the work in front of him. "That you're awake this early? Beyond words."

Sanji expected those hands to drop away just as quickly as they'd come, but there they stayed, draped around his small waist. He held no complaint.

Zoro stood there, head resting on the other man's shoulder, half-asleep, warm breath falling on the others neck.

The cook shifted his shoulder slightly to get the man's attention. "It won't be ready for a while. You can go back to sleep if you want."

Sleepily came his reply of a simple, "No," as he gave the body he held a soft squeeze. Such a change a night can make.

Sanji let fall the utensil into the mixing bowl and turned himself around in the man's arms, coming face to face, hands resting on Zoro's hips. Giving the man's nose a kiss, "Well, I can't rightly drag you around the galley with me, you know."

Zoro smirked with his own response, "Well then what kind of chef are you?"

"And what kind of spice are you, that can't be added to my dishes?" Came the cook's retort.

Zoro tilted his head, an amused look touching that sleepy face. "I do believe you just called me a gift from the devil."

Sanji let his arms find their way to fall around the swordsman's neck. "Aren't you?" he asked, a smirk forming on his lips as they reached out to the others.

The kiss was slow and sweet and it dripped with emotion that before that moment had not been shown between the two.

After it's end they stood there for unmeasured moments in each others arms. The sleepy swordsman and the interrupted cook.

Sanji wondered what had went on in the man's head to bring about such a change as he recalled the events of the day before, the words that had slid and spit past their lips.

A few more moments in the comfortable silence found Sanji speaking to break it.

"You were right, you know. Yesterday..."

A frown came to touch Zoro's face. "Shut up, you idiot."

Then it was Sanji's hand that was touching Zoro's face, light fingertips and a soft caress.

"No," he replied softly before kissing the man's lips chastely. He paused before continuing, slightly embarrassed.

"You were right," he repeated. "I do wish I could make you... do that..." His words were slow and careful.

The green-haired man in his arms released a quiet sigh before his hands fell from the cook's body, and in that moment worry found it's way into his mind. Worry that he'd taken the position Zoro usually held of ruining the moment.

A light tap on his head of the swordsman's fist, and then a ruffle of his blond hair before that hand fell away softly down his neck and back to the man's side.

"They'll be up soon. You should finish breakfast." he told the cook as he turned to leave. Sanji head dipped slightly lower than he'd usually hold it.

The swordsman stopped at the doorway and twisted to look at the cook.

"Oi."

Sanji lifted his gaze to meet those green eyes, relieved to find a smile teasing on the man's lips.

"Maybe..." the word trailed off before being picked up again, "Maybe you can try again later."

The blond's jaw dropped ever so slightly as he stood there blinking after the other man as he retreated.

The wind carried one last comment through the threshold to meet Sanji's ears, causing the smile from before to light his face again, renewed and refreshed.


"If I don't kill you first."

((Note: I do believe that that is called 'fluff.' xD Oy.))

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