Panting and panting, the softest sound he'd ever heard. It was the sort of sound he'd expect a little animal to make, or maybe someone in pain. But fuck, there was nothing cute or sweet about this, and Sanji wasn't injured. The blonde was jerking little movements, tugging tightly at his cock, his eyes squeezed tight shut. His hammock shook slightly with the motions, and he had one hand mostly over his mouth. Every few moments he would bite at it, little slick marks of saliva showing in the dim light of the bunkroom.

And Zoro knew, he fucking knew the other man could feel his gaze. The tease of a cook was doing this on purpose, he had to be. Why else would he be making those little sounds, little almost-mewls just loud enough to travel to his ears.

And Sanji's heart was pounding. Don't let him be looking, let him be sleeping...oh fuck...mn...Zoro...

He tried to hold his breath, anything to keep back the sounds as he felt the swordsman's hands on him, sliding under his shirt, down his pants, drawing him out of the hammock and pushing him into the floor, fucking him into the floor. Zoro's body was heavy, made it hard to breathe...and god his muscles were rock hard and his cock was rock hard and he was pushing and pushing and in and...

"Zoro...ahh...yes...nngh yes..."

The sound was little more than a breath of air, before Sanji licked his lips in the dark and envisioned the other man's mouth, warm and smothering over his own.

Zoro nearly sat straight up, staring, his name seeming to ring and echo through the bunk room. What the hell was Sanji thinking? Why...why the fuck was he saying his name? In the dark. Touching his cock and what the hell is he doing if he fucking wakes everyone up...fuck.

And Zoro was on the floor moments later, telling himself he was intent on slicing the cook's throat before he made another sound like that.

Except now he was close enough to feel Sanji's breath, and it was warm and sweet and if he leaned just a little closer it felt almost wet against his mouth. His gaze slowly shifted down Sanji's body, lingering finally on that blurred, fast motion of pale fingers over flushed, hard flesh. He realized he could smell the musky scent of the other man, and only then did his own groin start to swell and heat.

Sanji tensed with a sharp intake of breath, doubling over enough to nearly touch his hand against Zoro's face. The other man leaned back, eyes wide, the realization striking him then that Sanji could open his eyes any minute and catch him here doing...whatever the hell he was doing. Definitely not anything that made any sort of sense.

And then he was staring, entranced by the sight of a thick, milky fluid pulsing in stream after stream from that little slitted opening at the smooth, rounded head of Sanji's cock. He had been holding his breath, and he released it with a soft shudder. He was already reaching into his own pants to free his erection when he happened to glance back and notice two midnight blue eyes locked onto his face.

"Zo...Zoro..."

Sanji looked almost terrified.

"What...what are you doing?" This was a whisper, as he started to shift in the hammock, trying to cover his rapidly shrinking cock from Zoro's far too close gaze. All this time...had he been watching?

Now there was a thought.

Sanji's eyes immediately darkened a little, and he didn't give Zoro a chance to reply.

"What the hell are you doing anyway?" This was a hissed whisper, and he really was trying to look fierce despite all that frantic tucking.

Zoro caught his wrist, and answered in a voice that was low like a growl, but hitched...almost breathless.

"I want you to do that to me." Zoro caught his hand all up in Sanji's fingers, taking the warm stickiness into his palm, fondling at the other man's soft, long fingers, and his semi-flacid, warm cock.

The blonde hissed softly, closing his eyes.

"What makes you think I'm just going to...ahh! fuck Zoro..."

Zoro guided both their hands onto his now-freed erection. He pushed Sanji's fingers and his own across the bloodhot throbbing skin, spreading the other man's release around.

"Do it to me," he repeated in that same, low, low voice.

Sanji was still catching his breath from his own release, and everything about him was still hot and addled enough for it to then make perfect sense for him to start pulling a slow grip across Zoro's thick cock. His palm slid easily along the smooth skin. It felt nice. Sanji loved textures, loved to get his hands on things and in things and this...this was a nice feeling, hot and incredibly soft, stickyslick and heavy.

"Zo...Zoro..." He closed his eyes and started stroking, guided by the man's strong fingers at his wrist. Hot...heavy...thick...he was nearly hard again feeling that flesh in his grip, wanting it in him, wanting to screw himself down on Roronoa Zoro's cock because Zoro was strong and didn't fuck around and didn't bother with anything but getting right down to fucking.

And he was at least pretty sure that's all he wanted.

"Zoro..." He was moaning again, so soft, into his own shoulder, trying not to wake the others. He could feel the other man now, bent over him, breathing into his hair with a hot tickle that made him moan again and again. Zoro's free hand found his hair, fingers threading into the stringy blond strands, finding a good grip there that said "don't stop" very eloquently.

And he didn't want to stop, he wanted more, he wanted Zoro in his mouth and in his body and all over him. He wanted to look up into those dark green eyes, up the dimpled, rough scar on Zoro's chest. He pulled harder, faster, thinking about how much he wanted Zoro fucking him. He wanted to be loud and rough and all over the fucking room if they had to.

And he was hard again, damn it.

Zoro held his breath, then gasped a little grunted breath, as if he were exasperated each time to have to breathe at all, to have to make a sound. And this pattern continued, stroke, stroke, stroke, gasp, stroke, stroke, until his heart was beating hard and loud in his ears. He could hear the cook making soft, strange, muffled sounds. It was odd, he noticed in a detached sort of way, that Sanji was making sounds. Sanji was jerking him off...did it still feel good or something?

Sanji was so fucking strange. And this was completely his fault anyway.

Zoro's fingers started to tug a little at Sanji's soft hair, and he groaned very quietly, the sound catching in his throat on another held breath. And then with a surprising quickness, everything seemed to just tilt and topple and turn and he was bucking a hard release into Sanji's fingers.

"Ow...fucker...pulling my hair...fuckingstop..."

Sanji had turned his face up and was scowling and hissing, lips brushing against Zoro's in an angry little parody of a kiss.

"I have your dick in my hand," he continued, in a low whisper. "so stop fucking pulling my hair..."

Sanji's voice was growing softer and less pissed the more he realized that with every word his lips touched Zoro's.

And then they were kissing. Wet hungry, hungry, hot, deep kisses...the sort of kiss that when recalled later wasn't really a kiss at all. Never had to be remembered as such.

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