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Sanji wondered how he got into these situations, sometimes. Actually, he knew exactly how⁠—he could never keep his mouth shut around Zoro. Or Zoro could never keep his mouth shut around him, and it was, very inevitably, an endless loop. 

It started with an argument, as it always did. They had just departed from Thriller Bark⁠—the whole incident with Zoro and Kuma had made Sanji lose about ten years off of his life, not that he would ever admit it at the promise of death. Well, the point was, Zoro was safe, and in one piece. 

One piece. Heh. He took a second to chuckle at his own joke before realising how much like Zoro he sounded. Clearly he'd been spending too much time stuck in the Sunny with him, and needed to rectify that immediately. Some time away would do them both good. 

Even so, the moment they sailed to another island⁠— we need to get to this one before Sabaody Park, Luffy, be patient⁠ —and they'd all gone to explore on their separate ways, Sanji couldn't help but almost glue himself to Zoro. 

"Can't have it on my conscience if you get lost, mosshead," he muttered, while Zoro simply looked at him, and his gaze could be described as knowing if it were anyone else. As it was, all Zoro managed to look was vaguely curious. 

"That's never been a problem to you, but okaaaay," Zoro said, making a beeline towards the nearest tavern. Sanji sighed, and followed. For once, the island they ended up in was relatively normal⁠—as normal as an island on the Grand Line could get, anyway. Windrush Island was a small island, and some could even describe it as quaint. And, like the name implied, Sanji could swear he could hear the whisper of the constant wind that hummed throughout the island even if he plugged his ears. Nami had told them the log pose would take a day and half to set, so they really had no choice except to loiter. No matter how boring the island seemed to be. 

There had been a few who'd been daring enough to try to attack them, but a few well-placed kicks had stopped them even before they even landed a hit. Really, the island was quiet enough that Sanji doubted even Luffy could find an asinine adventure to get strung up in. 

The bell above the tavern door gave a soft tinkle when they walked in, signalling their arrival to the rest of the bar. Since most of the villagers weren't raging alcoholics, and it was barely three o'clock, the tavern was fairly deserted except for a few at the back shooting them very judgemental looks. Sanji would be offended if he weren't so exhausted from the entire journey. 

"Sit down. I'll grab us both drinks," Sanji said, feeling charitable for once. Then, at Zoro's surprised look: "Oh, don't look at me like that. Some of us can be nice when we want to be." 

"Yeah, we all know you can be nice to women," Zoro replied drily. He was heading away before Sanji could retort, or send a well-aimed kick at Zoro's head. Normally, he would have hit Zoro regardless, but the injuries he'd sustained made Sanji pause. 

Sanji was used to operating on instinct when it came to Zoro. Used to arguing and aiming a well-placed blow on Zoro's body that Zoro was always bound to block. His relationship with Zoro wasn't uncomfortable so much as it was… routine. Something he'd gotten used to without knowing. 

Thriller Bark had thrown him for a loop, and Sanji didn't know what to do about it. 

He huffed, realising he'd been staring after Zoro's retreating back, and headed off towards the bar. The barmaid was very attractive⁠—all women were attractive, to Sanji, but there was something about her that called to him. Maybe it was the green hair. Maybe he had been thinking too much about Zoro recently, because it took him a moment to string some words together.  

"A bottle of whiskey. Two glasses," Sanji said, finally, and the barmaid nodded, filling their glasses with an efficiency that Sanji admired. Truly, the fair ladies could do anything… 

"Your boyfriend is glaring at me," the barmaid said, jerking Sanji rudely out of his thoughts of whisking the two of them away in the Sunny into the life of a pirate and falling in love in the face of adventure. God forbid he has a hobby. 

Then⁠—

"My⁠— what?" 

"Your boyfriend," the barmaid repeated, not at all concerned by how she was rewiring Sanji's entire brain chemistry. Sanji could handle them being mistaken for anything else: friends⁠, which they were, begrudgingly⁠; nakama, which they'd always been; siblings⁠, which made something unpleasant coil up in Sanji's chest at the mere thought. Maybe the air in this island was infused with poison that was killing him bit by bit. Anyway⁠—the point was, Sanji had never been mistaken for Zoro's boyfriend, and didn't care to be. "Looks like he really wants his drinks." 

But Sanji had never been one to argue with pretty women, so he simply took his drinks with a strained smile and a simple, "thank you, my dear," that made her give him a quick smile. Ah, soooo beautiful. 

"I gave you a discount. Welcome to the island," she winked, and Sanji truly felt like his heart would explode with sudden affection. Sanji would have keeled over if he weren't holding two glasses of whiskey soda. And if Zoro wasn't glaring at him, now. He glared back, muttering something about ungrateful mossheads as he slammed their glasses down on the table. 

"Took you long enough," the aforementioned mosshead grumbled, without even a thank you. 

"You're welcome," Sanji said, aware he sounded passive aggressive but in no mood to care. Besides, Zoro deserved it. "I charmed the barmaid into giving us a discount. The least you can do is be a little more grateful." He pointedly refused to mention how she had mistaken them for a couple. That had never happened. 

"Yes, pervert-cook, thank you soooo much for flirting with the barmaid and wasting ou⁠—" 

"Civilised people do not consider that—"

And they were both off. As Sanji settled into their chairs and lit up a cigarette, the sweet, sweet smoke coating his lungs, he almost felt normal. It only took that action for Zoro to make another disparaging comment about his smoking habits that had Sanji laughing despite himself. Besides⁠— 

"You have no room to talk. You consume the same amount in alcohol. Every day, I might add," he said, and as if on cue, Zoro topped both their glasses up. Sanji had lost count of how many drinks he'd had, and the world felt a tad bit unclear. He should probably cut himself off soon, but he couldn't really find it in himself to care. 

Zoro chuckled and finished his glass in one long gulp. Sanji felt his eyes follow the exact motion of the action⁠—how Zoro took a second to assess how much remained. How one muscular arm brought the glass close to his lips. How his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. 

How attractive Zoro looked, in those rare instances where Sanji could find it in himself to admit it. 

Sanji shook himself out of it. It felt like ruthless efficiency, the way he could compose a stray thought into something less than it was. Besides, they'd been at the tavern long enough the locals had trickled in, and there wasn't a lack of beautiful ladies he could pay attention to, instead. Anything to pretend most of his frustration wasn't caused by the man in front of him, half-hearted as his attention towards the ladies were, today. 

One of them⁠, a short, pretty brunette with brown eyes, in a sundress that left nothing to the imagination⁠, noticed Sanji's wandering stare, and blushed. He blew a kiss in her direction⁠—he might be distracted today, but he wasn't rude⁠— and delighted in the way she her blush got deeper. For a moment, he forgot all about Zoro's presence. Just for a moment. 

"Do you ever get tired?" Zoro asked, jerking Sanji rudely out of his thoughts. The girl had already waved at him and gone back to talking to her friends so it didn't really matter, but it was the principle of the thing. Sanji had never needed an excuse to bicker with Zoro, anyway. 

"Tired of what?" 

"Tired of the⁠—the fawning," Zoro seemed to have difficulty getting the words out, face set in a grimace that made Sanji irrationally angry. "How many women have you actually picked up, cook?" 

There was something strange in his voice. And Sanji had never been someone to quit while he was ahead. "More women than you've had, I wager."

That made Zoro burst into laughter. Sanji realised his mistake too late, but he was willing to blame that on the whiskey. "I am right, in my defence." 

"Yes, because I'm gay," Zoro deadpanned, something of the strangeness in his voice disappearing. There was something guarded around Zoro's eyes, still, as if he didn't know how to act around him, but⁠—Sanji couldn't pretend he wasn't the same. 

Because⁠—because Zoro brought out something in him Sanji didn't want to confront. Sure, they argued enough that they would single-handedly give poor Nami grey hairs soon enough, but Sanji had to admit there wasn't anyone else who rose to a challenge like Zoro did. Who made Sanji feel alive, not even amidst the heat of battle. Zoro made Sanji feel⁠— different. Like a live-wire set to spark every time they touched. Static electricity that threatened to shock him if he didn't like the burn. 

It wasn't a secret Sanji was bisexual. Zoro just made him more aware of it, in more ways than Sanji should admit. 

"You didn't answer my question, shit-cook," Zoro said, and Sanji was sitting too close to him. Too close, close enough to feel the warmth rolling off his body, pressed thigh to thigh. If he could find it in himself to turn around fully, they would be close enough to kiss. It wouldn't be the first time, but this time felt different. Like there was an intent behind it . "How many people have you pulled, really?" 

The use of "people" didn't go unnoticed. 

Sanji felt his hackles rise. "What's that to you?" he spluttered, not even finding it in himself to come up with a suitable retort. The alcohol was definitely getting to him⁠—his world was blurry, and Zoro felt dangerous in a way that made him want to touch, like a moth drawn towards a shitty green flame. 

"Just wondering if you can put your money where your mouth is," Zoro replied. The smile he aimed at Sanji was sharp. A question coated in a challenge that Sanji always rose to. Kiss him, a part of him whispered, but it wasn't time. Not yet. 

"Of course I can," he said, finally finding it in himself to turn around towards Zoro. He was too close. "To answer your question⁠—a gentleman never kisses and tells." 

When Zoro looked at him, his eyes were dark, filled with something Sanji was too afraid to describe. "You ain't a gentleman, cook."

Kiss him. The whiskey burnt on its way down his throat. This conversation was dangerous. It had the effect of making Sanji feel like he was standing on the edge of a cliff, with no way except to jump and hope he wouldn't die from the fall. Zoro had always made him feel more seen than he would like, and this was no different. Maybe it was inevitable, in a way. 

"You wouldn't know," Sanji said. Zoro took a sip of his drink, and Sanji's eyes flickered towards his lips⁠, almost involuntarily. They'd made out sometimes, when they'd gotten too carried away after one of their adventures and the drinks had flowed a bit too heavy and their arguments had gotten just a tad bit charged⁠—but this felt different. Zoro's eyes told him there was no hiding from this, not today. 

"Prove it," Zoro said, and his grin was cocky. 

Kiss him. And maybe it was time to give in. Sanji brought his mouth against Zoro's, and they slotted into place like they always did. Zoro tasted like the whiskey he'd just drank, and Sanji was surprised, at how… gentle, the hand curving around the back of his head was. How Zoro licked into his mouth and it felt less like falling off a cliff and more like falling asleep. 

Then Zoro bit at his lip, and the sudden burst of arousal hit like a punch to the gut. He couldn't help the gasp he let out at that, Zoro's mouth licking the inside of his molars like he wanted to swallow him whole. He shifted, embarrassingly hard from Zoro's goddamn mouth on his and the fingers digging into the back of his head, Zoro's left hand resting on his thigh with no intention of moving anywhere else, holding him still. 

It was Sanji who pulled away first, breathless and head spinning from something other than the alcohol. Zoro placed his thumb over Sanji's bottom lip, wiping away the spit that had gathered at the edge. Sanji felt⁠—he felt needy, more than he had in a long time. 

"A gentleman, huh?" Zoro asked, licking at his lips, as if he was savouring Sanji's taste, and Sanji didn't know how he was supposed to survive this. That feeling, like they were crashing towards something⁠— it was back in full force. He spluttered, not knowing how to reply. Only wanting, needing Zoro's mouth on his, his hands on everywhere he could touch. 

Zoro's gaze was searching, tracking Sanji's face for something. Zoro must have found what he was looking for, because a smile slowly edged its way into his face, half-smirk and half something that tugged at Sanji's heartstrings. This impossible, impossible man. 

He took Luffy's pain for himself, the pirates had told him, and Sanji⁠—Sanji had been free-falling ever since. 

"I can sooo be a gentleman," he panted, not sure what he was even trying to prove. Sanji was man enough to admit, at least to himself, that Zoro had the upper hand⁠, squirming and nearly halfway onto sitting on Zoro's lap, so hard he almost ached with it. Zoro scoffed, but didn't comment. 

And this was usually the time when both of them came back to their senses, when Sanji realised exactly who he was so close to and he was abruptly jerked back to sobriety. This time, he didn't budge. 

He didn't want to budge. 

He dragged Zoro back into a kiss, who released a surprised exhale as if he wasn't expecting it. Take that for being a gentleman, he thought wildly, before he was swallowed whole into Zoro's embrace. The din at the bar was getting louder and louder as more people made their way in, but Sanji didn't care. 

"Wanna get out of here, cook?" Zoro muttered, breaking away for only a second. Sanji could feel Zoro's breath fan over his face, and shivered. He gave a miniscule nod, but it was easy to catch, with how close they were sitting. Then: "We can't go to the Sunny⁠—" 

"Of course not, we can't corrupt the delicate lad⁠—" 

"Forget about being delicate ladies, Nami would kill⁠—" 

"Okay, stop. Stop," Sanji coughed, cutting Zoro off. "I may… have an idea."

To Sanji's credit, it took very minimal convincing for Zoro to split their allowances into a room at the tavern. It had been a very awkward conversation with the barmaid⁠, who looked more amused than the situation warranted, handing them their key with an all-too knowing look. Sanji felt like he could explode with the embarrassment that lined his entire body. He'd tried, very unsuccessfully, to convince Zoro to talk to the barmaid instead, but the flirting really hadn't worked in his favour. 

"You're blushing," Zoro observed, sounding delighted. 

"Shut up," Sanji hissed, yanking him none too gently towards the staircase leading towards the rooms. Zoro didn't complain⁠—he used that as an excuse to tug him back onto the crook of his body, and Sanji was ashamed at how easily he went, honest to god giggling when Zoro almost tripped down the staircase in his haste.    

Their room was easy enough to find⁠— the first door room on the left, the barmaid had said⁠—though fitting the key inside took an absurdly long time because of how Zoro was insistent on groping him like the savage he was. Distantly, he wondered if his crewmates would wonder where they were, then dismissed the thought. They weren't the type to worry, especially when it came to the both of them. About their⁠—about whatever their relationship was, however… 

"Cook," Zoro said, after they'd finally made their way inside the room. Which shouldn't have even been much of a struggle, but whatever. Sanji was willing to blame it on the alcohol, but that excuse had disappeared a long time ago. Only the haziness remained, still. That still made this situation feel like a dream⁠—a dream he didn't want to wake up from, Sanji was rapidly beginning to realise. 

Maybe he was in deeper than he thought. 

"What?" he asked, turning around to face Zoro fully. Zoro's eyes were clouded⁠⁠—flecks of indecision only highlighted by the dim lighting in their room. And Zoro raised his hand⁠—slowly, gently, as if he was soothing a spooked animal that might run away at the slightest inclination. Sanji wanted to be offended, but Zoro knew him too well. 

"Do you want to do this? Really?" Zoro asked, resting his hand on Sanji's cheek before cupping underneath his jaw. Sanji shivered from the contact. It seemed almost effortless, how Zoro seemed to get this reaction out of him. And this question⁠—Sanji knew Zoro felt it too. How they were both at the cusp of something big, bigger than what Sanji would have wanted to confront even a few days ago. 

"I do," he replied, past the pink dusting his cheeks and his own heartbeat rushing past his ears. That was all the answer Zoro needed before he brought his mouth to Sanji's, greedily drinking him in like he'd wanted to do that for a long time. Maybe Sanji had, too, because he made no protest as he was pushed further and further into the room, eventually landing on top of the bed with a small oof.              

"Wanted to do this for so long," Zoro gasped into his mouth, and Sanji didn't know what to do with the rush of affection he felt, at that. He closed his eyes, winding his arms around the back of Zoro's neck to bring him closer. Closer, until they were intrinsically linked, pressed together, skin to skin, until there was nothing left between them. 

Zoro ran a hand over the expanse of Sanji's back, lathering kisses on the crook of his neck, and Sanji wanted. 

"Zoro," he gasped out, and Zoro paused, for a second. "Take off your fucking clothes."

It was an order more than a request, but Zoro did nothing more than chuckle. "Demanding," he said, pulling away to remove his haramaki, placing it gently on the floor while Sanji watched impatiently. The shirt came away next, but Sanji had lost most of his patience a few seconds ago. 

"You are so annoying," Sanji said, and tugged them both back into bed, Zoro landing on top of him none too gently. 

"You're the one who dragged me back into bed," Zoro pointed out, expression wounded even though he made no move to drag himself away. 

"Semantics," Sanji replied, a smile making its way into his face despite himself. Zoro froze, for a miniscule second, and Sanji wondered if he'd done something wrong. But⁠—he only smiled softly and pressed a kiss to the side of Sanji's mouth. Sanji flushed, but he melted into the embrace, throwing his head back to give Zoro more access to his neck. 

Zoro wanted him. Had wanted him for a long time. 

He let that knowledge settle into the crook of his neck, into the place in his heart that was reserved for all the recipes he loved. Then, Zoro sucked a bruise into his neck, and Sanji moaned, going from half-hard to more than a bit aroused embarrassingly quickly. "Shit, marimo," he panted, rolling his hips upwards to get any kind of friction. Their cocks rubbed against through their jeans, and they both moaned, Zoro's more guttural and heartfelt. 

"I hope you aren't attached to this shirt, cook," Zoro said, before he hurriedly, and very literally⁠— ripped the buttons off his shirt, curious eyes raking through every piece of exposed skin. And as flustered as Sanji felt⁠— 

"How am I going to get out of here like this, asshole?"   

Zoro only had the audacity to look up at him, eyes hazy and drunk with lust, and shrugged. But he was attractive ⁠—biceps flexing with every movement and sweat dripping down his pecs, and when Zoro leaned down to bite at his nipple, Sanji realised he would forgive him for anything. He released a moan that felt like it was out of his own volition, yanked out of his chest for Zoro to swallow him whole. He gripped the bedsheets with one hand, reaching out to grip hair with the other, needing something to hold on. Zoro didn't complain, in fact, from the way he flushed, he seemed to like it. 

Zoro's mouth travelled downwards, a finger still circling his nipple as if he wanted to drive Sanji crazy. Sanji certainly felt like it, bucking his hips up, his stupidly tight jeans providing no room to move, so turned on that he felt like he was one touch away from coming all the way apart. 

Zoro's mouth hovered just above Sanji's cock, fingers digging into his inner thighs, and Sanji couldn't take it. He tried to wriggle himself out of Zoro's embrace to get to his neglected cock, but Zoro didn't budge an inch. 

"Marimo⁠—" 

"You look destroyed," Zoro said wonderingly, looking at Sanji as if he couldn't believe he was real. "I haven't even touched your cock yet, cook. That desperate for a fuck, princess?" 

Sanji's high-pitched whine at the nickname took them both by surprise, and he felt his face flame to an unhealthy shade of red.Sanji liked the nickname. He liked it a lot. 

Distantly, he wondered if it was too late for him to aim a kick at Zoro's face and escape, and pray that the Earth would open up somehow and make him disappear. Zoro, as if sensing Sanji's thoughts, said a simple, no you don't, and tugged his jeans away from his legs. 

"You're a sight for sore eyes," Zoro muttered, eyes wandering through the expanse of Sanji's body, drinking him in enough he wanted to hide. He wasn't used to being looked at like this⁠—as if one word could make him fall apart in Zoro's hands, and he would welcome it. 

Then, Zoro swallowed Sanji's cock whole, a wet heat that ripped a strangled noise out of Sanji's mouth. Zoro was going to ruin him, and fuck it, if Sanji died today, he was going to die a very happy man. 

He threw his head back into the pillows, Zoro's expert mouth working overtime to get him to come. Sanji wondered where he'd learnt this, then banished that thought away. This wasn't the time. Not when Zoro was looking at him through his eyelashes like this, his lips darkened and wet with saliva as if he was enjoying a full course meal. 

He hissed as Zoro hollowed his cheeks, hips bucking into Zoro's mouth despite himself. Zoro didn't react except give him a self-satisfied grin, bobbing his head and reaching out to play with his balls. 

Sanji didn't know how Zoro did it, but somehow Zoro figured out how he clicked embarrassingly quickly. Sanji was surprised he lasted as long as he did⁠—and when Zoro pulled back to use his hands in tandem⁠—Sanji was a goner. He threw his head back, only gasping out a hasty, "Zoro, I'm gonna⁠—I'm⁠—" as a warning before the earth stuttered on its axis, Sanji coming with a long, drawn-out groan that felt as if it was ripped out of him. Zoro, the asshole, swallowed every bit. 

"That was hot," Zoro commented, when he finally pulled away, Sanji trying to regain his breath while Zoro looked entirely unaffected. Well, not entirely⁠—the lust brimming in his eyes and the hardness of his cock was a dead giveaway. He'd removed his boxers when Sanji wasn't looking, and he was almost intimidated by how big Zoro's cock looked, hard and thick and bigger than his own, and he was almost desperate to see how it would fit around his hand. He reached out to touch, to do exactly that⁠—

But Zoro slapped his hand away, coming closer to kiss him instead. Zoro tasted of musk and Sanji, enough that the arousal curled up in his body and refused to leave. "Wanna come when I'm inside you," he whispered into Sanji's mouth, and oh. Sanji could definitely get with the program on that one. "C'mon cook, I know you got another one in you." 

"I have plenty," he protested, realising the mischief in Zoro's gaze only when he drew back. 

"If you say so…" Zoro said, before he sobered up. It seemed like he was mustering up the words to put something delicately, and Sanji, horrifyingly, realised he knew exactly what it was going to be. "Uh⁠—I didn't exactly plan this, so⁠—" 

"There's lube in my pocket," Sanji blurted out, refusing to look Zoro in the eyes. Zoro burst into surprised laughter, and Sanji felt his embarrassed blush travel to his chest. Okay, the lube had been an impulse purchase on another island, tucked into his wallet just in case. Not that he would ever admit that, even in the pain of death. "It was, uh, a gift⁠—" 

"Oh shut up, shit-liar," Zoro cut him off, only sounding amused by the situation. He dropped a kiss on Sanji's lips, and damn it if Sanji didn't follow him easily. There was just… something about Zoro that called out to him, like no one else. "And who are you gonna fuck, anyway? Fucking pillow princess." 

The bottle opened with a small pop. Sanji tried very hard not to show how eager he was, probably missing the mark by a mile judging by how Zoro still looked amused, the bastard. A hand travelled down his body, leaving goosebumps in its wake. "You like it," Sanji protested, with nothing else to say. 

Zoro's eyes darkened more, if it were even possible. "Of course I do, baby." Zoro hiked Sanji's legs over his shoulders, almost bending him in half and the sudden rush of arousal almost made him dizzy. Suddenly, he was desperate. A finger circled his rim, cool with the lubricant he'd lathered over his hand, and Sanji couldn't help pressing against it. Zoro cursed. "You look so pretty like this, princess. I want to fuck you so bad, wanted to for so long⁠—"

"Then fuck me," Sanji demanded, finally running out of patience, pre-come dripping down his length. He could feel Zoro's hard-on against his thigh⁠—this was as torturous for Zoro as it was for him. He bucked his hips, and Zoro chuckled, but finally, finally, pressed two fingers inside⁠—inquisitive, demanding enough that Sanji's throat became dry. The intrusion felt painful for a moment, before Zoro crooked his fingers and he let loose a cry that felt strangled. 

"There it is," Zoro whispered, voice gravelly and self-satisfied, as he pressed his fingers against his prostate again and again, reducing Sanji to a sobbing mess. Luckily, it seemed Zoro's patience was running thin, too⁠—he only scissored his fingers once, twice, before he removed his fingers. Sanji moaned at the loss, but could do nothing but lie still as Zoro rearranged him so his legs were hiked around his hips instead. 

The blunt head of Zoro's cock pressed against his entrance, and Sanji needed more. Wanted, wanted, wanted. "Fuck, Zoro, just⁠— fuck me, goddamit."

And Zoro's cock finally, finally slid inside, inch by inch until they were both gasping as he bottomed out. Sanji felt full, aching enough that he could almost burst with it. 

"Shit, you're so tight," Zoro gasped, burying his face in the crook of Sanji's neck to steady himself, for a moment. Sanji felt floaty, happy enough he could stay in this moment forever. A precipice that he hadn't seen. 

Oh. 

Zoro gathered himself enough to lean back to take a good look at Sanji's face, reaching out to wipe a stray, overwhelmed tear from his cheek, and⁠— oh. 

Maybe this was it. 

Then Zoro began moving, slamming his hips into his and nailing his prostate with every thrust while Sanji could do nothing but hang on for the ride, reveling in being used like this. He wound his arms around Zoro's neck, an octopus of limbs that Sanji didn't want to extricate himself from. The pleasure hit him in waves, the sound of skin slapping against skin loud against the grunts of Zoro fucking into him. 

"Say that again," Zoro panted, eyes wretched with desperation. 

"Say what?" 

"Say my name, Sanji," Zoro said, and there was a hint of pink in his cheeks, too, and⁠— oh. The name affected him more than it should, made the affection rush past the Zoro-shaped home in his heart that he'd only just realised existed, until⁠— 

"Zoro, Zoro, Zoro," he chanted, in sync with each thrust, Zoro chanting his name in return. They both came in tandem, Zoro's hips stuttering as he came with a shout, reaching out to jerk Sanji off. Sanji felt the world screeching to a halt, almost like he was blacking out with the intensity of his orgasm, Zoro still buried deep inside him and wanting to keep him in. In him in him in him until there was nothing that separated the two of them ever again. 

When he came to, it was to Zoro wiping the both of them down, gentle hands roaming through his body, so different from before but comforting all the same. "I see you're awake," Zoro said, shit-eating grin on his face. "I can't believe I gave you such a good dicking down you passed out from it." 

Sanji wanted to die. "Shut the fuck up," he muttered, burying his face in his hands. The events of the night were crashing down on him, but the excuse of alcohol had died a long time ago. Besides, he didn't need an excuse. 

He felt fingers tugging at his hands, and Sanji went⁠—easily, letting Zoro grasp his chin and face him fully. Zoro's eyes tracked his face, and there was an undisguised affection there Sanji hadn't seen before. 

Or maybe had been blind to see before. The jury was out on that. 

Then, Zoro smiled. "A gentleman, huh?" 

Sanji flushed, but refused to back down, now. "You're one to talk. Wanted this for a long time?"

To Sanji's disappointment, Zoro didn't fluster at all. Just came closer⁠—close enough their breaths mingled and gave Sanji goosebumps along the side of his face. 

"I did," Zoro admitted. Sanji felt his heart stutter. "For the longest time. Then I heard about what you did at Thriller Bark." 

"What I did? Keeping a secret is paltry compared to what you did," Sanji replied, unable to keep the indignation out of his voice. Zoro chuckled, and it made something settle inside of Sanji's chest. Something affectionate imprinting itself into the very curve of his bones. 

"Maybe it is," Zoro said, dragging his hand down Sanji's cheek and capturing his lips in a kiss before he could push the issue. Sanji melted into it, and he'd long stopped pretending he could resist. 

They spent the rest of the night trading kisses under the dim light of the moon that peaked through the curtains, a closed parenthesis of bodies drawn close together. 

When Sanji drifted off to sleep, it was with a smile on his face and a lightness in his chest. With a realisation settled at the crook of his heart and Zoro's arm wound tightly around him.