"Let's fuck," Sanji deadpanned.

He never expected Zoro to accept that offer. Inwardly planning the ways to excuse himself (for his own pride, not for the shitty swordsman's sake) he felt his head steadily starting to throb.

Since he had joined the Strawhats, the thing that caught his attention the most on the ship wasn't the noise, it was not the lack of private space, not even Nami-san's gorgeous beauty. Half-naked, sweating, with firm, tense muscles packed in that tanned torso, the working out swordsman was the worst. Always lifting his weights calmly as if they were just feathers, the green haired man was deep into his trainings, never distracting himself to notice the occasional glances Sanji was shooting to his side.

It was driving Sanji nuts how treacherously his body reacted to the suicidal, muscle-headed, useless moron, but all his attempts to ignore that weird feeling in his gut were hopeless.

The urge was becoming more and more irresistible until one day Sanji reached the boiling point. The utter explosion broke him in half, made him desperate when he climbed up to the crow's nest, knowing the stupid marimo was on his shift tonight. Tonight or never.

The answer Zoro gave him was overwhelming. The cook could imagine how the swordsman would be pissed or laugh him off, or just ignore – he never knew Zoro would accept it. But the man's usual calmness, his cool head appeared to be far more impassioned than Sanji could ever paint in his mind.

He had a suspicion nobody was able to make Zoro as enraged as he could. That energy, flavored with sexual tension, the energy of rage and hatred, now was very likely a passion. Passion was that what imprinted on Zoro's flushed, steamy face as the blond turned to look at him over his shoulder. The sensation was far too strong for Sanji to handle, and the only thing he could do was to spur Zoro more.

"You're greedy," He grinned, not recognizing his own husky voice.

It was hard for Sanji to keep his emotions shut. But the only excuse he could give himself, and Zoro, for enjoying what they were doing was a competition.

There weren't any excuses for him to continue, and the swordsman's light-hearted demeanor wasn't helping at all. Sanji tried to make it clear that time was the first and the last for them. And he failed.

A long sail was hard. Pretending that nothing had happened, Sanji acted normal around Zoro – mocked him, fought with him – but every accidental touch of the tanned skin instantly reminded him of the man's hands all over his body. Those hands he couldn't forget no matter how hard he tried, those memories that kept him painfully aroused during the sleepless nights.

As if it was fate, the next time they docked both Sanji and Zoro were assigned to watch the ship. Not knowing how to escape, the blond spent almost his whole allowance trying to drown himself in alcohol. Never being a heavy drinker, he knew he would just fall unconscious and sleep soundly until the dangerous time of being alone on the Merry would pass. But his plan was instantly ruined as he stepped on the deck. Zoro's arms were covered in sweat as he was doing those damned reps again, his straight and collected face made Sanji sober in a flash. He tried to fight himself, tried to fight Zoro, but nothing could help his boiling blood to calm down.

Far-fetched idea of not touching the man with his hands was just another excuse for Sanji. He stupidly thought that if their faces were so far then there would be nothing to worry about. Zoro's katana pointed at his neck made him even more confident. But, unfortunately, the swordsman wasn't going to play his games, and his fervid mouth on Sanji's length broke the blond's guard completely. He wasn't able to refuse anymore.

Not that he didn't try. Sanji's mind was screaming it wasn't right at all. Maybe he should just talk to Zoro, but for some reason the words always froze down in his throat when he looked into those deep, brown eyes.

Exactly like the following time. The contradiction was tearing the cook apart, and the struggle was becoming more and more painful. He thought if he wouldn't undress, he'd be fine. But when he saw the way Zoro's neck arched, saw the outline of his bare thighs, sensed the hot skin on his tongue – he knew he had already lost. That time was different for him however, and as if seeking for another excuse, he led all his attention to bringing pleasure to Zoro. A mistake he only then realized how disastrous was. The desire to make Zoro feel good was inflaming his emotions worse than they already had been. Inappropriate feelings he never wished for. A need to feel another man in his hands, a wish to taste his seductive lips, a want for a body contact – for warmth. And the worst was that the swordsman was enjoying Sanji as much as Sanji was enjoying him.

"We are both losers," Sanji said and ran away. Ran away from himself and that weird heat inside his chest.

When someone has a bad habit, they should quit it, Sanji used to think. However, it sounded easier than it was in reality, especially for a man who was weaved of bad habits. Was it really that bad if they both seemingly were… liking it?

Another island, and a shadow of anxiety dwelled the cook's mind after he learned Nami had gotten private rooms for the every crew member. Collecting all his will and trying not to recollect Zoro's scent of ocean salt and steel, his desperate face, his tense thighs, his extremely arousing groans, Sanji sunk himself into a book. Tapping his toes over the wooden floor and smoking nervously, he didn't even pay any attention to the text. His eyes were sliding across the lines, losing the meaning of words on the yellowed paper. It was becoming hot in the room, and Sanji's fingers flinched visibly on his shirt buttons when he heard a knock over the door.

He decided to stop if Zoro wouldn't come by himself, and his last ditch was destroyed, completely and forever. The swordsman was everything he desired, and when he came and almost offered himself to the blond, Sanji gave up on his struggle.

There wasn't any point in keeping that as some sort of trouble after Sanji saw how Zoro was giving himself, ready to accept absolutely everything the blond wanted to do to him. The view of the other man beneath him was almost more arousing than the sex itself, and somewhere in the corner of his blurred mind Sanji realized he wouldn't be able to stop. He wanted Zoro so much, wanted to own him, to be owned by him, wanted those weird, warm emotions beat in his heart further. When he froze on his spot in a sudden, desperate need for a drag, when his cigarette burned Zoro's tanned skin, he felt as alive as never before. The words his mouth was letting out were spoken heartily, and he had never felt so sincere before. It wasn't even a matter of what he was saying, he just needed to let his voice break free from his chest. He didn't regret it. Didn't regret anything he and Zoro were doing together.

The fact that the green haired man cared for him far more than he had thought was becoming more obvious with every friction that night. How desperately Zoro wanted to please Sanji, how determined the man's words were – the heat in the blond's chest was burning insanely from it all. The whole palette of mixed emotions was now unfolding before him: fury, passion, trust, honesty – all the feelings he locked deep in himself were Zoro's belongings. And among all those sharp, thumping emotions there was a soft, warming fracture of care. Care for the other man as for the one he treasured with his life.

Their sailing had been long enough for Sanji to comb his mind thoroughly. Occasional encounters with Zoro weren't enough for them both. The cook noticed that glint in the brown eyes every time he and the swordsman were pressing against each other in a small place of privacy. Sanji wanted to be closer, wanted their bodies to melt one in another, and so did Zoro.

One night the blond felt a hit on his back. Blinking drowsily, he realized he'd fallen off his hammock. He was exhausted too much to climb up again, and that warm, comfortable pillow under his head was way better than the rough hammock. Wait… He threw his eyes wide-open. Lying upside-down, Zoro was peering into his eyes through the darkness. His face was relaxed despite him being hit with the other body so suddenly. Sanji felt a stroke of fingers on the back of his neck and parted his lips.

Zoro's tongue was way more careful than he used to be on Sanji's skin. Sliding and rolling inside Sanji's mouth gently, it was making the blond shiver under the touch. He raised his hand and let his fingers through stiff hair, rubbing Zoro's scalp with his fingertips. He had no idea how long their lips were pressed together. An urge to breathe was nothing comparing to the need to feel Zoro's warmth on his lips. Sanji's chest was tearing into pieces, spilling all his emotions and driving them to his mouth to pass to his greatest swordsman.

Sanji was slightly bothered with the news that Usopp and Chopper were staying with Zoro in the hotel room. Slightly… Who was he trying to deceive; he was nervous like hell, smoking on one of the leather couches in the hall. After ten cigarettes and two short drags, a creaking of the door along with light-hearted laughter made him flinch. He almost choked on the smoke and crashed the cigarette over the ashtray furiously. He was beginning to hate his habit, which often was the first thought of his after inhaling too much of the airy poison.

Zoro looked as strung as the cook was, though the green haired man obviously had much more control in his possession. Sanji would definitely forget about the door, about fucking everything if only Zoro didn't remind him. To shut, unfortunately, not to lock.

It seemed almost wrong to Sanji how hasty they were. Having no other choice but to sneak out during the short times the others were out was getting on the blond's nerves. But the obscenely arousing view Zoro was giving him, his knitted from pleasure eyebrows, his half-opened mouth and half-lowered eyelids, his shoulders quivering under his fast movements – everything about that man was enough for Sanji to forget every concern he might have had. Enough and never enough.

Such a delicate and at the same time strict expression of trust and already enormous arousal made Sanji lose his mind in bliss. He didn't care about anything, rocking his hips to meet Zoro's and only wishing that pulsation in his body and soul would never end. Until he heard the boys' voices in the hall.

"Did you lock the door?" Zoro mouthed, almost exhaling the words out of his fluttering chest.

Sanji felt a striking fear. It wouldn't be that bad if only Usopp would open the door and see them – terrible it would be, but not as disastrously horrid as if Chopper would. Moving his head slowly, the cook admitted his oversight.

"Idiot!" Zoro hissed, but as his body tensed, Sanji felt the cock inside him quivering dangerously. As much as he was agreeing with the swordsman's statement – maybe for the first time ever he had no intensions to argue – but that occasional, yet so inflaming motion brought him back to the highs he just descended from.

After they had escaped their brutal fate, Zoro's face changed. Euphoria still lingered on it, but his eyes – his muted, steamy gaze was direct and serious.

"Sanji," The man uttered, looking almost softly into the blond's eyes.

Hearing his own name from those lips – often bloodstained, dry from the ocean breeze, irresistible lips – being pronounced so quietly and seductively, coming from the chest of the man he was miserably losing his heart to, Sanji went over a limit he never knew he had before.

"What's so good about this?"

A weird glint of genuine curiosity was something the cook had never seen on the swordsman's face. Zoro looked at the cigarette between his fingers, his nostrils quivering.

Sanji knew someday that point would be reached. Maybe not knew but sensed all the internal changes in them both. Of course Zoro had always had a soft side of his stubborn nature. He could be curious, could be exhausted, could be frustrated, could be even gentle. Sanji was just willfully ignoring those good parts Zoro had.

"Nothing. It's just calming," He answered, barely hiding a smile forming on his lips.

The knowing look Usopp was shifting from him to Zoro wasn't bothering Sanji anymore.

One early morning when he was preparing the breakfast, a sound of the galley door opening pulled him out of his thoughts. Robin-chan, was his first idea: the raven haired woman was the only morning person besides Sanji among the crew. But a strong, heated arm that confidently wrapped around his waist didn't belong to her.

On his duty the cook was doing his best and could easily gain an award for being that collected. Moving the knife sharply, he stayed still, feeling Zoro's hot mouth on his neck. The swordsman's hand travelled down to his belt, unfastened it and slipped inside. The brush of the warm fingers over his awakening cock still lingered after Zoro slipped his hand deeper into the blond's pants. Teasing his entrance in circles, he grinned into the blond's skin, not breaking the kisses on his neck.

His teeth clenched as well as his fingers on the knife as Sanji moved towards Zoro's fingers instinctively. It would have been better to shout at the man, to send him a kick, but he just couldn't. The only thing that made him freeze was a slow creaking of the door and a sharp slam of it a second after.

The arrival to the next island relieved the crew, but not Sanji. Another night off the ship and not being able to be together without keeping themselves on the tips of their toes was pouring weird frustration into his heart.

He gladly accepted all Nami-san's orders for supplies and was ready to fly off the hotel lobby as soon as she gave him money. But a sudden grasp of a petite palm around his shoulder stopped him.

"Sanji-kun," She uttered quietly. Her wide brown eyes shined as gorgeously as they always did, but now there was something other than just an intension to require in them.

"Yes, my darling?"

Nami bit her lip, reaching into the pocket of her shorts. She handed a small object to him, folding it into his palm. A key.

"Oh, thank you for your kindness, my dearest Nami-san," He bowed slightly, smiling at the girl charmingly.

He definitely wasn't expecting her to laugh. Sanji gave her a puzzled look. Calming down, she reached to his ear and whispered:

"There is a large bed. Have a good time, guys."

Sanji's ears had never been so red in his whole life.

They both were weariless throughout the night. Exploring each other's bodies thoroughly, they couldn't get enough. Licking, biting, kissing, sucking, grinding, squeezing, jerking, stroking – their breaths mingled, mouths dry, throats sore from groans.

They'd given up on counting rounds already, and the pace of the worn bodies became slow. Humid from sweat, hot and raw, Sanji felt the swordsman's slick thighs loosening the tension. Zoro's steamy breath tickled Sanji's jaw, their fingers laced in a grasp. The green haired man ceased, panting and leaning his head onto the blond's chest.

"You're tired?" The cook asked, brushing a sweaty, green-haired temple with his knuckles.

"No," Zoro muttered into his skin. "The heck I would be."

"Come on, don't be so stubborn, greatest swordsman," Sanji rolled his eyes dramatically. Steady pulsation inside him started to weaken, and he lifted his hips a bit up to get away.

Zoro's steady breathing was calming the blond, and soon he felt he was falling asleep. Blinking, Sanji pulled himself out of the drowsy state. He didn't want the night go to waste.

"Are you sleeping, moss-ball?" He rummaged the green hair.

Raising his face from the cook's chest, Zoro peered at him with muted eyes. Exactly a sleepy moss-ball.

"I wanted to, but a certain idiot-cook woke me up," He muttered, receiving a light kick to his knee. "Ouch! That hurts, you know?" His forehead wrinkled, but the grin on his lips spoke the opposite.

"If you like pain this much, I don't know what to advise you," Sanji shrugged mockingly, reaching for his pack of cigarettes. "Masochist-swordsman," He poked his tongue out.

Gripping each other not as strongly as they wanted, they weltered around the battered bed, trying to punch each other. But that so-called fight could only cause their laughter, and they ended up falling to the floor.

Wrapping his arms around the blond's waste, Zoro nuzzled into his abdomen.

"I'm hungry," He murmured, burying his face deeper into the cook's skin.

"Why didn't you tell me? You idiot Marimo," Sanji sighed, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. "Lucky you, I took a lunchbox from the ship. Barely managed to grab one before Luffy swallowed them all."

Zoro let him go from his hold, and Sanji straightened to pick up his backpack.

"You surely had extra ones for Nami and Robin, so don't talk bullshit." The swordsman folded his arms over his chest.

"I did, of course. But the ladies' lunches are untouchable," Sanji retorted, pulling a box out. As he opened it, a rich smell of rice omelet, tuna and baked vegetables reached their noses. The blond just realized how hungry he was.

He offered the box to the swordsman, who sat on the bed and pounced on the food wholeheartedly.

"Not bad for a shitty cook," He uttered, chomping.

Sanji rolled his eyes, giving a slight punch to Zoro's forearm. The green haired man instantly cleared half of the box and handed it to the blond.

"You can eat the rest if you want," Sanji waved his hand, reaching for another cigarette and lying down.

"I'm full, also haven't seen you eat today," Zoro almost foisted the box into the cook's hands.

Sighing, Sanji tasted the meal. It was still gloriously flavorsome, especially now, when his stomach was ready to accept anything, but he preferred the food to be warm usually. Although Zoro didn't seem to be bothered by it when he was eating, and that was the best gratitude for the cook.

After finishing his meal, Sanji lit up a cigarette. The flavor on his lips was far more savory after the food, and a lungful of spicy bitterness made his eyelids half-lower from a quiet joy.

"Does it still calm you down?" Zoro uttered, smelling the smoke.

The corners of Sanji's lips rose in a soft smile.

"I'm already calm enough," He chuckled lightly.

Zoro leaned onto his shoulder, his hand resting on the blond's chest.

"So why are you smoking?" He asked, yawning.

Wrapping his arm around the man's shoulders, the blond inhaled his last drag, freeing it out of his nostrils. The steady pulsation in his chest was radiating softly, making him feel so genuinely good.

"I don't know. It's sort of a thing I can't live without. At first I was just curious," He spoke quietly, squeezing Zoro's shoulder. "Then I tried, and it appeared to be pleasant. Once I thought it could cause harm to me, but even if so, I somewhat couldn't suppress the urge to taste it again. After several tries I realized I was obsessed. The fire is a thing that you can't stop watching. It's like a passion, an affection of some sort. I didn't notice when it started to make me feel so peaceful."

He lowered his head to look at Zoro. The green haired man was curled on his chest, snoring quietly. His body was warm, and occasional brushes of his fingers on Sanji's chest along with the steady warm breaths tickling his neck lulled the blond into the comfortable slumber soon.

The competition with their own stubbornness was destined to fail from the very beginning.