Prompt [tumblr]: from anon: How about a twerking Zoro? Should be amusing enough for a lemonade?

I ended up having to look up what this meant. Sad, I know.

I do not own One Piece.

Try as he might, Sanji couldn't look away. It was like watching a car accident; a terrible, metal-twisting, bone-smashing, life-ending car accident in marimo form. And he just couldn't look away.

In the middle of the living room, standing on top of a creaking coffee table, was Zoro. The moss ball had long since relieved himself of his pants, and was trapped in the apparently difficult process of pulling his shirt off from over his head. All the while, he had never stopped dancing, er, well, whatever he was doing. Zoro was posed in a sort of unnatural squat, gyrating and shaking his hips in a way that made the muscle and fat in his back and butt vibrate and ripple.

Note to self: the next time Zoro drinks vodka, have a camera handy.

Sanji continued to watch the marimo's antics, his arms flung over the back of the couch and a half-finished glass of wine grasped idly in one hand. There was something oddly arousing about Zoro's sad, strange attempt at dancing. Watching the muscles in his back and stomach stretch and bulge with each movement sent a pleasant tingle running up and down Sanji's spine. He wanted that sculpted body on top of him, wanted those powerful arms tangled around him, and wanted those sharply cut hips grinding against him.

Blue eyes followed each jerking thrust like a predator stalking prey. Sanji's pants were getting tighter and tighter by the second, and Zoro was still completely oblivious.

Finally managing to pull the frustrating cotton off of his head, Zoro tossed it across the room and turned to look at Sanji, a wobbly grin slowly spreading across his drunk-blushed face.

"You like what you see, Sw-Sw-Schwirly?" he slurred, all but tripping off of the table and falling on top of the blonde. With the same twitching movements of his odd dance, Zoro began to grind against Sanji's lap.

He was already aroused by Zoro's half naked dance, but this was too much. Sanji could feel his erection fighting with his pants, his pulse throbbing almost painfully in the hardened length as it pressed against his closed zipper. He groaned as the stupid moss ball ground down closer, nearly crushing the wine glass in his hand. Just a little more and he would completely cream himself. These were his favorite pants, dammit.

Then, all of a sudden, Zoro's burst of drunken energy seemed to wear off, and he slumped against Sanji, all of his considerable body weight coming down on the blonde's very hard cock. Sanji's eyes widened to the size of small saucers at the added pressure, something between a wheeze and a whine escaping his lungs.

Ouch.

He held still as for a long as possible, his pulse beating wildly against Zoro's buttocks as he waffled between annoyance at his predicament and worry about alcohol poisoning. Then Zoro gave a good loud snore right in his ear and his mind was made up. Annoyance it was then.

"GODDAMMIT, MARIMO! YOU FUCKING SHITTY GRASS GREEN BASTARD! GERROFF!"

With a rough shove, he tossed Zoro off. Standing quickly, he stumbled away from the couch, wincing as the movement jostled his still very real arousal. He watched the slumbering marimo for a few moments, taking in every beautifully sculpted detail and trying his best not to think about the amount of drool was was going to collect on his nice throw pillows, before an extra hard throb down below reminded him of his current predicament.

"Sleep it off Moss Head," Sanji muttered, walking slightly bow-legged as he made his way for the bathroom. "I'm taking a shower."