The first time occurred with surprisingly little drama, which, considering the pair, was highly unexpected. There was no wine, music, or flowers because, quite frankly, Zoro was involved, and as he had told Sanji on more than one occasion, he just didn't do that 'pansy touchy-feely bullshit'.
It didn't happen after a particularly fierce battle. If it had, that wouldn't have surprised the cook in the least. He had known ever since they had started sailing together that fighting tended to gear up the swordsman in a big way. Most in the crew, except for maybe Luffy and Chopper, knew what the man had always disappeared alone to do after a strenuous fight. The cook found a lot of satisfaction in a good battle as well, but it had never been enough to tent his pants. It was just one of the many differences, he figured, between himself and the twisted simple seaweed-head.
It didn't even happen in the midst of one of their more heated arguments. Sanji, if he was forced into honesty on the matter, would admit that he had always kind of expected that it would. There had been moments when he and Zoro were tossing back insults and challenges and the occasional shove, that the tension in his belly turned sharp and sexual, and he had to concentrate a little harder to meet the swordsman's infuriated gaze and not let his eyes stray down to the taunt edge of flushed neck that he had always wanted to taste. Sometimes he slipped, and Zoro would notice, and then the other man would stumble through his tirade a little more clumsily before averting his own eyes as a nervous hand reached up to rub self-consciously at his neck.
It happened during the first really cold night of the new season. The crew as a whole were happy enough to be sailing in a stretch of ocean that had changes of season after spending so much time in parts of the waters that were either always unbearably hot or always unbearably freezing.
The air that night was just brisk enough to be uncomfortable without a blanket or thick jacket, and as Sanji made his way towards the crows nest to take over for Zoro for his turn at watch, he began to regret that he had brought neither. He hoped that the swordsman had brought something with him during his shift (besides, of course, a bottle of rum) that he could force him into letting him borrow.
When he reached the top of the nest, he was greeted with the very familiar sight of a sleeping swordsman. Irritated, he climbed off the ladder and kicked the other man lightly on the thigh. Zoro merely frowned and mumbled though his dreams while slinking more securely into his blanket. Sanji pulled the cigarette from between his lips and squatted in front of the sleeping man.
"Hey, Asshole, the ship was attacked by hundreds of marines. Nami-san was kidnapped and Usopp, sadly, is dead. You missed all of it."
At this, Zoro stirred and blinked up at him.
"Wh—I missed the fight?"
Sanji rolled his eyes and abruptly sat down next to the other man. He scowled and shivered as a particular cold gust of air kicked up. He tugged the edge of Zoro's blanket so it rested across his own legs.
"You're a fucking idiot." he informed him.
Zoro was craning his head over the edge of the nest trying to peer through the darkness below. He finally sat back and glared at the blonde.
"There was no fight. Lying Shitty Cook."
"Well, there could have fucking been. And what would you have done? Stayed up here all cuddled in your blankie pursuing some desperate attempt at beauty sleep, which, by the way, will never fucking work."
"I would have woken up. Probably. And I don't cuddle." He all but sneered the last word.
Sanji blew out a smoky sigh and extinguished his finished cigarette against the sole of his shoe.
"That's not the point, Asshole. The point of keeping watch is to keep an eye out for a fight before it reaches us so we can be prepared. Or, if possible, avoid it."
"Whatever. There wasn't a fight tonight, so why are you still talking about it?" he closed his eyes and pulled the now shared blanket further up his chest. "You're always fucking talking." The last statement dropped to an irritated murmur as the swordsman started his usual quick slide back into sleep.
Sanji reached over to grab the bottle of rum from the slacking grip. He took a satisfying gulp before elbowing the other man.
"Oi, Asshole, your watch is up. Go back and finish sleeping down in the bunkroom."
Zoro grunted, but made no move to get up. At the first snore, Sanji decided that he just didn't have the energy to physically push the fucker out of the crow's nest that night. Besides, the shared body heat was a welcomed thing as the cold breeze passed by.
After a quiet while as Sanji stared out against the shading of stringy clouds and the cut of the blackened sea, he felt a warm weight press against his side. Zoro, still very much asleep, had started sliding against the cook.
There was no response from the swordsman, and after a moment of consideration, the cook decided to let him stay where he was. The bastard had proven useless during his watch, so the least he could do was keep Sanji warm through his own. It was, after all, getting pretty darn chilly.
Zoro's head rested on the edge of Sanji's shoulder, and every so often, would rub lightly back and forth. Despite what the swordsman had claimed earlier in the night, there was definite cuddling going on. The cook smirked and shook his head.
"You're so full of shit, you ugly fucking snuggle bunny."
Sanji snickered at his own words, and started to consider the possibility that he may be drinking the procured rum just a mite too fast.
As the minutes passed, the weight kept shifting, until the slight lean developed into an insistent press of bodies. Sanji was feeling quite warm all of a sudden, his face was pretty flushed, so he decided that it just might be time to get the pushy bastard the hell off of him. Before he had the chance to shove Zoro away, he was surprised as a thick arm suddenly circled his narrow waist and pulled him closer against the swordsman.
"Oi! Asshole! What are you doing?"
He was embarrassed to hear the slightest hint of panic in his voice as he struggled against the tight grip. Feeling flustered by the new position, he just barely reigned in an unmanly squeak as he lost his balance during his squirming and slid down to the floor along with Zoro. Through this, the other man still appeared unconscious, and merely reached out with this other arm to haul the blonde tightly against his chest.
Pressed as firmly as he was against Zoro, there was little room for him to get the grip needed to break the hold. Sanji's face was pressed against Zoro's neck, and their legs were disastrously twined together. Heavy snores continued to drag above him, and none of his shouts of 'Get off of me, Fucker!' or 'Move, you molesting pervert!' were enough to wake his captor.
Growing desperate, he bucked his body hard against Zoro, but the other man merely frowned in his sleep, and then rolled over, pulling Sanji on top. This new position did little to help his ridiculous predicament since both his arms were still pinned at his sides. He was pissed as hell that the other man just kept sleeping peacefully as he was starting to lose his fucking mind.
"Asshole, if you don't let go of me right now, I'll—I'm gonna—"
And without giving it any real thought, he leaned forward and bit down hard against the side of Zoro's neck.
The body beneath him surged up, and as close as they were, he could feel the lax muscles suddenly pull tight and tense. He smiled around the salty skin still between his teeth and bit down a bit harder, before pulling back with an absent swipe of his tongue.
"There, Bastard. Serves you right for grabbing me like that."
He looked up at Zoro who was starring at him with eyes wide and wild. Sanji chuckled at the moronic expression, but stopped when he realized that though all of that, he was still being held just as tightly.
"Let me the fuck go, already!" he demanded.
"Goddamn it, Cook! Why are you always fucking talking?"
Sanji made the mistake of looking down, and his eyes fell upon the reddened wet mark he had made against the side of Zoro's neck. He started breathing a little deeper and his heartbeat kicked up slightly before he finally felt the arms locked around him loosen.
And he had no real interest in what the other man wanted to say just then, because, Sanji decided, it was most likely going to be something stupid anyway, so he pulled himself up along the length of the body below him until he was even enough to lean down and kiss the rest of the stupid sentence right out of Zoro's mouth.
It seemed to work well.
The first time, despite the slow build up that pretty much started in the dining room of The Baratie, went pretty fast. It lasted long enough for Zoro to roll them back onto their sides, for eager hands to reach between their bodies, slide down the front of pants to grip and pull. Sanji alternated his mouth between kissing Zoro and gnawing on that wonderful edge of solid neck, while Zoro alternated his time between kissing Sanji and groaning out stupid desperate things that he would completely and utterly deny ever saying when questioned much later by a smirking cook. Zoro's knee sliding up between the wedge of Sanji's thighs had the cook coming first and breathless, but when the blonde's second hand joined its mate down the front of Zoro's pants, the swordsman's smug chuckle quickly turned into 'MotherFUCKER!' and a whole lot of moans.
Afterward, Sanji found himself still in a familiar lock of arms with a slowing heartbeat beneath his cheek. He stayed there for a while catching his breath before, with an exhausted sigh, he started to push himself away. The arms quickly tightened.
"Where are you going, Shitty Cook?"
"We need to get cleaned up. The last thing I want is to be glued to you, Asshole."
Zoro pulled off the black material wrapped around his upper arm He reached between them and quickly cleaned them both as best as possible, before tossing the now-soiled garment away. Sanji stared at him for a moment.
"Well, that was fucking disgusting."
Zoro shrugged one shoulder, closed his eyes, and tightened his grip on the cook.
Sanji was simply too tired to say anything else, so he gave in and slipped into sleep.
A moment later, hundreds of marines attacked.