Sanji didn't notice right off what Zoro was doing, sitting alone across the deck, although from the furious scowl across his shut eyes, Sanji supposed he was simply brooding over something stupid, like probably some duel he'd lost long ago.

But one slight step to his left and Sanji was proven wrong by the moonlight.

Then, he heard it, an incensed sort of pained voice, the muttered words Stupid love cook goddamn stupid love cook tumbling over and again out of Zoro's slacked mouth.

The shit jarred out of him, Sanji fled the deck with long, rapid strides, until he tossed himself in his hammock, staring round-eyed at the black cabin ceiling, failing to realize -- or admit -- why his heart wouldn't stop thrashing about and his cock wouldn't stop getting hard just because he'd witnessed Zoro jacking off while possibly thinking about him.

It wasn't easy for Sanji, the next day, to look at Zoro as if he hadn't seen anything, as if he hadn't already assumed things. But then Zoro came up to him after lunch, backed him up against the kitchen sink after everyone else had vacated the room, and then barked at him demanding if he'd happened to coast by the deck the night before, because he sure as hell thought he'd caught a glimpse of blond hair at one point. With a swift glance to Zoro's crotch, Sanji denied having ever been out there, his voice dry, tone sarcastic, giving Zoro all the more reason to fume.

By the first minute of their spat, they'd both grown flushed and infuriatingly aroused, hissing at each other to hush the fuck down

while Zoro dug his bare heel in the back of Sanji's bare thigh

and

Sanji fucked Zoro fast into the edge of the sink.

END