heart-curls:

Another island. Another stop. Same routine. It felt good to sleep in a bed outside of the hammocks on the Sunny. The bad thing … usually winding up with the worst room an inn had to offer because of expenses. And to add onto that, he had to share a room with that guy.

However, he had learned to tolerate Zoro. And somewhere along the way, the tolerance grew into something more intimate, where either of them felt that bickering was just a way to keep the other man close by. Sanji still didn’t understand the connection of it all. Why .. of all times, now … did he get to be so comfortable around an annoying, dumbass, shitty marimo?

He didn’t complain. A feeling inside him drove him forward, craving what the swordsman gave to him when they were an arms distance away. The touches. The kisses. Their mingling, wet tongues. All of that drove Sanji’s mind into a craze. Hot melding of bodies. And the connection more intimate than with anyone else in the world. The blond’s face grew warm just with the thought.

Although his libido was consistently at a high, the cook had to learn control. He preferred that no one else on the ship would find out of his relationship with Zoro, which explained the reason that whatever happened between them outside of Sunny, it was never spoken of.

Zipping up his pants, Sanji reached into the discarded coat pocket, fishing for his box of King Ground cigarettes along with his lighter. He places one between his lips and lights it, inhaling the smoky nicotine into his lungs. He could feel the swordsman behind him, those dark eyes watching his every move. The cook releases a breath of white.

“What? Didn’t get enough of a look while you were fucking me?” He gave Zoro a challenging smirk.

Zoro feels caught, almost embarrassed to be staring at the other man so intently, to be so consumed by thoughts of him… His cheeks color just the faintest shade of pink, mercifully too light to be noticeable in the dim room.

“Hn. I’m not looking at anything.” He deadpans with a pointed, purposeful glance to the front of Sanji’s pants. He shifts and redirects his gaze to the ceiling before closing his eyes. “Oi, cook…”

He hesitates. No, Roronoa Zoro doesn’t hesitate. He…trails off, debating whether or not he should say anything. If he should just leave it alone and accept it for what it is…but can he do that if he doesn’t know what it is? And if he tries to figure out what it is, will he just fuck whatever it is all up?

Dammit. His brow furrows. Too much thinking right after an incredible orgasm.

“Nevermind.”

(via heart-curls-deactivated20110720)