A/N: Second part! Not sure what to think of it, because it was my first time writing for this pairing. Also, I tried to do some thinking in here and plot and stuff and I don't know how it turned out.

Thoughts?

Day Two - Write a story that gets all the way to the bedroom - and then stops. You can describe everything up until it gets to the real hot-and-heavy stuff; then you have to cut off. xD

The ship was silent, just like that first day so many months ago. When the crew had dissapeared into Marojam Island and Sanji had decided that he couldn't just wait on his feelings any more. That he had to act, even if it wasn't normal and wasn't right - and damn, had it felt good.

Zolo had run off that day, after just a kiss.

Sanji had decided that, yes, it may not have been normal but it felt right and he wanted more.

So the chef started to take more. Slowely, carefully, just a bit of affection here and there. A warm hand after a long fight, something cold on the summer islands, a smile where there would have been a scowl before. Each time, Zolo stared at him and paused and looked like he didn't understand what was going on, but he never made a move to turn it down either.

Never called Sanji out on it, which worked just fine for him. He wasn't entirely sure what it was himself.

Of course, they still fought and that seemed to be a standing point for them. Something that they could both rely on not to change, even when everything about their relationship wa spiraling out of control, faster and faster and faster.

Today was one such day, where everyone else had left to the island and Zolo had done something that had pissed Sanji off. At the moment, deep in the throws of their sparr, the chef didn't remember what it had been. An off-hand comment maybe? Or perhaps Zolo had been into the cooking sherry again.

As he ducked under the swordsmans strike, he turned. Movement fluid, swift, like some kind of deadly dance. His back brushed Zolo's chest - and, yes, that was sherry that he smelled on the taller man.

It was a thought that was there one second, gone the next. Just like everything else in Sanji's mind at the moment. Just like the thought that acknowledged how abosolutely hot Zolo looked, upper part of his shirt damp with sweat and hair tussled from their fight. That thought, too, was gone after just a moment.

Nothing could stay in his mind long when he was moving like this.

Zolo struck out again, this time with two swords, and Sanji let himself drop backwards. His upper body fell, arms outstretched and palms hitting the ground, and he arched his back, legs flying upwards. The bottom of his right shoe stopped the oncoming blow. The toe of the left shoe made contact with a sword, which one Sanji couldn't tell, and sent it flying out of Zolo's hands.

As the swordsman stumbled forwards, trying to recompensate for the lost weight, Sanji let his momentum carry him into a double hand-spring. And, just like that day so many months ago, his palm lands in a puddle of sea-water and shoots out from under him. The rest of his body follows suit, and his back collides painfully with the wooden deck.

What happened next, his mind didn't really understand. Maybe, he thought distantly, Zolo stepped in a pool of water too? Or maybe he just couldn't get his balance back in time? Whatever it was, it ended with the swordsman landing on top of Sanji - and they were back in that same position from before, with Zolo's body so close to Sanji's own, with hips against hips and legs tangled in legs. This time, they were both panting.

Zolo's mind seemed to recognize the situation too, because the fight is forgotten and, with a slight blush creeping along his cheekbone, he started to get up.

And damn if Sanji wasn't going to let that happen. Not this time, not like the last. So he flung one arm up and around Zolo's shoulders, the other fisting the damp fabric of his shirt, and as he pulled down, he also sat up. Their lips met, and then they're chests did too, both rising and falling in time with their pants, and Sanji was scrambling to get some sort of reaction out of the other man. Any kind of reaction.

For his part, Zolo seemed to be stunned still by the action. Then Sanji's tongue slipped out, the warm muscle dragging across Zolo's lower lip, tasting the droplets of sweat that had gathered there. It worked and Zolo gave a soft gasp - and Sanji all but pounced on the opportunity, working his tongue into the damp cavern that was the other mans mouth. In the moments that followed, he stroked and explored every inch of Zolo's mouth; across the hard surface of his jaws, over the top of each tooth, the roof and the inner cheeks and then doing his best to wrap it around Zolo's own tongue, trying to coax him to play.

The swordsman melted but didn't do much more than lazily move his own tongue about, let out a breathy gasp into Sanji's mouth, and scoot closer. Their knees knocked together, once, twice, and on the third time one of the blond's hands trailed down Zolo's back, slipped under his ass, and hefted him onto his lap. There was a moment where they broke apart, Zolo squirming to get comfortable and eventually settling with a leg on either side of Sanji's hips, ass on the blond's still clothed cock.

Eyes fluttering closed for a moment, Sanji let out a slight groan - and Zolo froze, body going stiff and still and he was so very warm pressed against Sanji, like nothing the younger man had felt in years. When Zolo didn't relax after a few seconds, didn't move or loosen his grip on Sanji's shoulders, the blond dipped his head, lips dancing across Zolo's bare expanse of neck.

And then it's a sudden blur of motion, led by Sanji but followed by Zolo. Pale, slender hands run up and under Zolo's sweat-soaked shirt, fingers dancing across his back, exploring the dips of his muscles, and then it wass gone and tossed on the other side of the deck. Sanji's jacket and shirt followed soon after, as the blond gently pushed the man off him, switchign them around so Zolo was on the deck and he was laying on top of him - and then the chef dipped his head once more, leaving a trail of kisses from Zolo's neck, down his collar bone, and to one pert nipple.

When he wrapped his lips around it and started to suckle, Zolo arched up into his mouth and gave a lo groan. He held his hands in the air for a moment, like he didn't really know what to do with them, before settling them onto Sanji's shoulders.

And that was when it hit him. Be it from the fact that such a small action has caused such a big effect (and it has, Sanji could tell, from the sudden hardness pressed against his inner thigh), or just from the fact that he wasn't fighting for dominance, Sanji didn't know.

Just that it had to be true.

With a final nip that earned a soft groan from the older man, Sanji pulled away. A smirk flickered across his face - and the sight of Zolo laying there beneath him, cheeks stained red and breath already coming in heavy pants, eyes still hinted with unease.

"You've never done this before, have you?" he asked, and the very idea that big, strong, handsome Zolo had never fucked anyone was enough to make him snigger.

Zolo's face grew a shade darker, and he gave an annoyed huff. "Sh-shut up, damn bastard! I've had things on my mind, damnit..."

Which meant, Sanji realized with a start, that he would be Zolo's first.

The realization sent a jolt to his cock, and suddenly it didn't matter that Zolo wasn't doing much in return. All that mattered was that when his lips returned to the green-haired mans nipple, perk and dark and so very, very sweet, it was with the knowledge that he would be the first one to do so. When his lips moved down further, leaving increasingly wet kisses along each pectoral, dipping his tongue into his navel (and that brought a soft gasp from the other man, who tilted his head back and closed his eyes, trying not to worry about what was happening), and moving until his chin was pressed against the thick, green swathe of haramaki.

Eyes partially lidded, Sanji glanced up at Zolo. Past the finely tuned muscles and quivering chest, all he could see was an upturned chin. Deft fingers untied the knot in the fabric, and it was pulled out from under him, then tossed aside to join their shirts. For a moment, his fingers hovered above the copper button of Zolo's pants - and that was when the swordsman stiffened again, head lifting up slightly to stare at Sanji and was that apprehension in his eyes?

It was, Sanji decided, and his tongue darted out to lick at suddenly dry lips. His mouth felt like cotton, scratchy and dry; suddenly worried that if he let Zolo speak, it would be an end to this, an end before it even started.

So Sanji didn't let him speak. Instead, he let his hands drop away from the button and slide along the dip where thigh melded into hip, grasping onto Zolo's sides and digging his fingers in just slightly, and then he drug his tongue across the swordsmans still clothed erection.

Anything that may have been building in Zolo's throat disappeared and he let his head drop back, hitting the deck with a slight clunk. Sanji did it a second time, just as slowley, and then a third - and the third time brought out a soft moan, which just encouraged the chef and then he wasn't just tempting, he was licking and slaving over Zolo, determined to give the other man a reason to want to stay.

Maybe even a reason to stay once they were through?

The second thought was there, then gone, and with it the button of Zolo's trousers. Sanji slid one hand under the swordsmans waist, the other hand tugging down the heavy and spittle covered fabric, only to pause and take in the sight it revealed. Boxers, epectedly plain and black and drab, with an unmistakeble tent in them as Zolo's cock strained to get it.

"Neh, Zolo...Looks like you are having fun." mused Sanji, half to himself, half to bring Zolo's attention onto what he was doing.

It worked.

Lifting his head slightly, Sanji was greeted with the flushed face of his nakama. Zolo opened his mouth, but nothing came out - and, actually, the chef was fine with that. It left him with more room to do as he pleased.

With more room, to slip a hand under the waist band of Zolo's conservative briefs, fingers just barely grazing the shaft, trailing from its base up to its weeping tip.

More room to bring forth those delicious mewls and grunts, as Zolo pressed into Sanji's taunting fingers, biting down on his lip to stop from begging for more.

Room to tug down the swordsmans boxer and take in the sight of his pulsing cock. It was shorter than his own, Sanji noted, but it was also far thicker and the skin was currently a brillient hue of burgundy, the mushroomed tip already dripping with precum.

A slight smirk grazed his lips, then a slight smile, and then he was bending down, down, down, and wrapping his lips just around the head of Zolo's dick. Said first-mate moaned and everything tensed, hips jerking just slightly, body begging for more - and, yes, Sanji was determined to give it to him.