A LITTLE BIT MORE

Chapter Nine

"What if he's watching?" Sanji remarked off-handedly, as Zoro's hand ran over the front of his apron, quickly finding the tent of fabric above his growing erection. He purred his approval into Sanji's ear, glimpsing over his shoulder before grabbing it, clenching the fabric around it as he did.

As Sanji arched against him, Zoro smirked and replied, "Let him watch."

The fabric came down with Zoro's strokes, stretching over the tip of his cock, soaking him up as he dug his feet into the sand. Up to his ankles, he kept burying, never finding enough friction to push back against Zoro, who remained like a brick wall against his urgent, straining movements. Sounds came from him, no cover of rain or nighttime to temper them. Little whimpering cries, louder with the expectation of what was to come.

"How…how do you want to…?" Sanji started to ask, finding very few words to go on.

"Mmm…" Zoro pushed into him, letting his cock slide against the sensitive dip at the small of Sanji's back. When the move met with a cry of approval, he went on, "lay back and I can ride you."

Sanji's ears tingled from the heat that shot through him. He was hardly aware that Zoro's hand was slower, almost unmoving now, the fabric of his apron loosening. Within a moment, it was being pulled up. He wants to see me naked, Sanji thought, the feeling of euphoria only compacting, overflowing, until his heart was beating so hard he knew it wasn't simply ego.

Still, words managed to fail him, as Zoro slipped the apron slowly over his head, unsettling the flyaway patches of blonde hair that had already dried in the wind. Sanji shook his head and smiled, a few deep breaths inflating him as he looked down the line of his body. He saw himself hard, glistening, with Zoro's dark hand perfectly contrasting his pale skin. A rumbling purr of amazement grew from the sight.

When the long, perfectly calloused fingers reached up and wound around his cock, Sanji only jerked his hips slightly, and allowed himself a tiny, uttering moan. "You're pretty colorful in the daylight." Zoro whispered into his ear, chin resting in its usual way, lazy and still on his shoulder.

With a blush and a tittering laugh, Sanji tried to think of the best response, but all he could think of while he watched Zoro's fingers stroke him idly was a breathy, "Thank you."

"I don't know if that was a compliment," Zoro replied calmly, poignantly. A moment of indignation twisted Sanji's lips, but he had to admit, the words weren't without their truth, "especially with the sunburn coming on. You know there's a tan line on you from the apron?" His other hand snaked around and touched the stark dividing line where a deep peachy-red was interrupted by the ghostly white of Sanji's chest.

"I didn't know you were referring to that," Sanji squirmed and moaned, smirking.

"Well it wasn't the first thing I was commenting on, certainly," Zoro admitted with a deep murmur, and turned his head to lick Sanji's ear, which was no doubt hot under his tongue. To drive their playful point home, he swept his hand around deftly to palm the head of Sanji's cock, "you're so pretty when you're hard."

"Pretty?" Sanji replied in a whisper, eyes closing to concentrate completely on Zoro's voice. His knees fell further apart, melting as wide as they could.

"Fuckable." Zoro clarified quickly.

"Then let's fuck."

"Yeah."

Zoro moved from behind him smoothly, cradling Sanji's head long enough to lean down and kiss him. They pulled away, Sanji toward a pillow of sand as their tongues kept contact.

"Put your fingers inside of me." Zoro suddenly commanded him.

No poetry could have sounded more beguiling. Sanji reached out, hand blindly searching for the bottle of suntan lotion he knew had landed somewhere close by. His eyes still studied Zoro, who was sitting to block the sunlight, dark in the shadow he cast over Sanji's body. He waited patiently as Sanji nervously touched the bottle, and grasped it in his fingers. "Is this okay?" He asked uncertainly, bringing it close to his chest with a slow, stealthy movement.

Zoro smiled with genuine amusement, and bent down over him. He caught Sanji's cheeks in his hands and shook his head as he leaned close. "I want you to be a little more confident than this, baka." He clarified, tongue darting out to sample Sanji's lips before they gave in to another sea-salty kiss and lost their thoughts momentarily, "don't force me to make fun of you."

With a breaking gasp, Sanji nodded, and did his best to feel comfortable in the smirk he forced to his mouth. "All right, then," he reached up and placed one hand on Zoro's hot skin, wiping away some of the sugary sand that was clinging to his thigh, "I just won't ask any questions, then."

"Please don't," Zoro rumbled suggestively, and kissed him again, as Sanji's hand began to wander, "just trust your instincts."

It felt strange to touch him, even considering how close they had been, what seemed like so many times in Sanji's mind. Really, he stopped to think, had he ever taken such a slow, meditative trip over Zoro's flesh, save the rushed, secret, exploring midnight touches on the Going Merry or the rain-soaked afterglow of the night before? Everything his lover had, it seemed to be given to him, and not simply his to enjoy. He had to recalibrate his mind, assure himself that his hands were free, and capable, to sample Zoro's body as they wished. There didn't need to be any agenda that was thrust upon him. This was like romancing a beautiful woman, all over again. Why did it seem so foreign suddenly? Just like enjoying a beautiful woman….a beautiful woman with rock-hard abs and a magnificently sculpted back and a big, hard—

He gasped in spite of himself as his fingers stole between Zoro's legs, touched him where he had never imagined he might. Zoro only smiled above him with some façade of calm, on his hands and knees, slightly sideways over Sanji. At just the perfect angle for Sanji's fingers to slide where they pleased, while the swordsman watched every expression of conflict play on his face.

A tiny shift disrupted Sanji's fingers as they cautiously tickled the inside of one powerful thigh, and Zoro spread his legs a little more. In a move that rendered the humbled cook speechless and still for a few moments, Zoro used the new position to bend over Sanji's chest, pressing his cheek to one pinkish nipple, listening as the heart beneath raced. Ass hoisted into the air, spread-eagled on his knees, chest practically to the ground. Zoro only smirked at him. "Should I stay like this?" He smiled, teasing as if his life depended on it.

"That would be nice." Sanji smirked out of one side of his mouth, and lifted his other hand to hold down Zoro's head. Neither party seemed at all displeased.

By the time Sanji upturned the bottle of suntan lotion, letting a smooth, copious stream fall between Zoro's legs from behind, he was barely convinced that he would even make it without coming on the spot. He was throbbing to be touched, but enjoying the anticipation far too much to be selfish. Zoro let out a muted groan, clenching his eyes gently shut as the lotion cooled his skin and tickled his unknown places. Sanji smiled, convinced himself once again that it was mind over matter, and slid one finger up through the slickness left behind.

"All right, then." Sanji breathed, his only preparation and warning before he did exactly as he had been told. They both hardly reacted at the first touch—only paltry twitches from their mouths, ineffectual darting eyes that spoke of some unusual panic at the depth of the intimacy they were daring to share. The panic tensed Zoro's body all over, made it difficult for Sanji to decide whether to laugh or offer him advice.

"Relax." He finally muttered, somehow able to smile warmly as he touched Zoro deeper, thicker, meticulous and careful until the swordsman finally sighed with a measure of pleasant calm.

"Yeah…"

"Yeah what?" Sanji asked, his fingers moving faster, his mind doing everything it could to keep his cock from that painful twitching, wanting so badly to be in that place. Zoro's eyes fluttered, opening and closing in uneven little bursts of calm and energy, as erratic as the breath that was gusting from his mouth. Sanji couldn't help but smirk at the knowledge that he knew those feelings, too.

"Yeah, it's starting to feel really nice."

"I warned you it might." He smiled playfully, and scissored his fingers once, twice inside of Zoro, who tensed and bucked against the touch.

"Sanji—" Zoro gasped, flattening his wet, hot-breathing mouth against Sanji's chest as the touches became harder, more forceful, more indicative of what Sanji intended to do, "let's—"

"Kiss me." Sanji interrupted.

Trembling, little trails from his watering eyes flaring out toward his ears, Zoro blinked up at him, and shimmied up toward Sanji's mouth. Their lips a hairsbreadth apart, Sanji whispered, "No."

Zoro pulled back, and Sanji withdrew his fingers. The swordsman blinked in confusion; the cook only smirked in control.

"Not here," Sanji tapped his lower lip, which was refusing to do anything but smile, and turned his fingers lower, past the suntan line and the traces of Zoro's kisses and tears on his chest, "kiss me down there. Before we go any further."

Appreciation for the request dawned on Zoro's face. Without a word, he shifted, and half-rolled, half-scooted down the line of Sanji's body, finally sprawling himself across his upper thighs. Only a current of rainforest wind came between his lips and Sanji's cock. "You can't just say it, can you? Always have to be so polite about things like this. Did you forget you don't have to be a gentleman around me?"

With a bared-teeth smile, Zoro's hand clamped gently around the shaft, pushing a stream of precome out with a shudder. Sanji arched his back and moaned, writhing a bit beneath the touches, finding little purchase in the sand that only sifted through his fingers when he tried to grab handfuls and squeeze.

"But that's what I want you to do," he whined, trying his best to sound like the dominant one but failing miserably. Still, something about the far-off, worshipful glaze over Zoro's eyes suggested that he wasn't entirely in control of the situation, either. That beautiful head leaned closer, and Sanji gently lifted his hips toward it. Zoro's tongue protruded for a teasing appearance, and never quite let itself reach the hardness that begged for it. By the time Sanji's breath was fitful and short, wheezing and whimpering as Zoro still refused to give him the satisfaction, he was surprised to find the strength to go on, "I want you to kiss it." He begged.

"Just kiss it?" Zoro's eyebrows pulsed devilishly, his eyes absolutely fixed on the vision before them. Oh yes, Sanji assured himself, with a flush of pride that momentarily superseded his pain, he likes it. He likes it a little too much. "You're sure you don't want me to suck it, too?"

Clenching his teeth, Sanji snarled, "Fucking tease!" and heaved an exasperated, straining breath, "no…I'll need to save myself for when I'm fucking your ass."

"Very well." The guttural voice almost chirped, and Sanji's throat tied a breathless knot as Zoro's head dipped in low, setting off fireworks in his brain as pursing lips kissed inch-by-inch, smacking up to the very tip, where they paused. Zoro licked his chops, smiled, and laid one more kiss, hard and sucking, on the very crown of Sanji's cock. Though his legs were held down by Zoro's weight, Sanji wanted to lift them. He wanted to float in that moment that was over so quickly, such beautiful attention having never been dealt to him before. Momentarily he congratulated himself on possessing the fortitude not to come as quickly as he had feared (not that, judging by the look on Zoro's face, it would have been unwelcome).

"Well," his voice trembled toward the sky, his entire body trembling toward Zoro, "seeing that the two of you are properly acquainted…" Zoro smiled at this, and met his eyes before Sanji added what was perhaps the most majestically tasteless phrase he had ever employed, "now get on it."
 

Zoro breathed an inward, barely audible scoff of approval, whisking his fingers over the wet, darkish shaft once more before pushing up from Sanji with a grunt. Sanji watched his body carefully, admiring the beautiful movement of his limbs and the powerful muscles that had never proved a detriment to his grace.

Without even knowing it, he breathed, "You're beautiful."

Planting his hands and well as his knees on either side of Sanji, preparing to straddle him, Zoro stared down at him, a little baffled. "I'm what?"

Sanji's cheeks flushed, as if he had been caught in a terrible lie. But it's not a lie, he told himself, that's how I'm looking at him, appreciating all of that. He's beautiful…for a man. He cleared his throat nervously and reiterated with closed eyes, "I said you're beautiful."

"I am?" Zoro smirked, and pulled up onto his knees, cock jutting out over Sanji's stomach, casting a shadow that caught the cook's eye, "that's not one I've heard before."

He reached back and fingered Sanji's erection. Sanji lifted his skinny hips between the bridge of Zoro's legs, and clenched his eyes shut tightly, panting as he waited. Instinctively, he knew that Zoro wanted to be a natural at this, wanted to do everything perfectly the first time without any help or any setbacks. So when he began to sit back, and Sanji felt himself slip inside of Zoro's body, he silently thanked him for not wasting any time.

Flip-flopping from his chest to his throat, Sanji's heart reacted with a seizure to the newness of the feeling, the tightness all around him as Zoro slowly sank down onto his cock. When he found himself pinned to the ground, strangled by wonder, at the mercy of Zoro's next move, he suddenly understood things much more clearly. He could see why Zoro, ever the logical utilitarian, was so apt to fuck him with fast, ferocious thrusts. Sanji could understand now, with the jolts of pleasure caused by each little shift of Zoro's body, how no one in their right mind could wait. At least not the first time; not this time.

"Zoro, oh god, move," he begged, his voice wavering, "shit, it feels so good."

Zoro panted through his nose above him, little whistling gusts of breath that said he was focusing his thoughts, becoming accustomed to everything. Sanji reached up and pressed his sweating, sandy palm to the rise of Zoro's scar. "How is it?" He asked, almost panicked by the possibility that Zoro was completely disgusted by the feeling.

Green eyes flashed open under the shadow of his brow, and Zoro's gaze focused on his breathless lover. A second passed, and he leaned forward, sending a shock of feeling through Sanji as he unsheathed him to the edge of withdrawal, and then pushed back, seating himself to the hilt once more. Their eyes locked, and neither spoke as Zoro continued in this position, sphinx-like over Sanji's chest, his movements hard and thorough, their effect on Sanji absolutely unmistakable.

He was still staring up at those green eyes when the hollering reactions began to rise to his throat. Unchecked cries of pleasure that built, only heightening the power of the feelings. The roles hadn't been reversed all that much, Sanji managed to think between frantic non-thoughts, and Zoro still wielded that dominance he loved so much. He grimaced in concentration, an expression that Sanji had always imagined on his face when they fucked, and drove himself violently into the act. Sweating in the hot sun, nothing but intensity all over him.

It only took a few minutes, barely a handful, for Sanji to know that he was too far gone to last. He reached up and gripped Zoro's neck, splayed his fingers into his hair, and bellowed his name with every intention for Armerind to hear it, wherever he was. The cries that followed – as he tensed, shook, and came deep inside of Zoro – he also wanted to be heard. For a moment he didn't give a damn if Zoro had gotten any pleasure from the romp at all; fireworks were blinding his thoughts, dazing his mind, and all that mattered in those moments was the fact that no woman, not ever in the past, not likely ever in the future, had felt so amazing or made him come so terrifically hard.

 His hands slid from Zoro's neck and his arms collapsed, boneless on the sand. His chest heaved, his eyes fluttered sleepily as his body played dead. He heard the soft, sucking sounds of their bodies as Zoro slid off of him, and fell on top of his chest.

Their mouths greeted each other not with words, but with a hot, fumbling kiss, smearing tongues and lips, still not satisfied no matter what their bodies may have ever had to say. That was their bond, Sanji knew, Zoro's breath tickling and burning his face as it fell over every inch he kissed; they were both insatiable. In battle, in life, in excitement and sex, they were never content with what was enough. As he felt Zoro's cock slick with precome and sliding over his belly as they kissed, Sanji knew what was next. He knew what had to be.

"Your turn." He whispered salaciously, as if Zoro would have ever needed the option. Barely an instant seemed to pass before Zoro's fingers were dripping with the lotion they had claimed as their own, thrusting regardless into Sanji's body.

Legs aloft over Zoro's hips, one lifted almost to his shoulder, Sanji writhed in anticipation. Thankfully, Zoro, still silent as the grave, was not in the mood to prolong his agony this time. In a deft flash of motions, Zoro slathered his cock, hitched Sanji's legs with his elbows, and sliced into him with complete absence of reserve. 

His screams were bouncing off the rocks that surrounded the clearing of their camp, so loud that Sanji wondered if they were rippling the water on the lake. Zoro twisted him like a pretzel, never content in one position of the supple, flexible body that was pleasantly at his complete disposal. Although at several points he felt his right leg ache sharply from the still-healing wound of that morning, nothing seemed to matter as much when he was looking up at Zoro, whose eyes told him without needing a word that it was heaven to be in his place.

Knees over Zoro's shoulders, and Zoro bent completely over his chest, Sanji struggled for breath after shuddering, shrieking breath as his erection reappeared and exploded again, all within what must have only been five minutes, maybe less. Again, Zoro's pace was alarming, his stamina mind-boggling. The muscles in Sanji's legs were actually beginning to quiver, unable to stand the extremity of their position.  Zoro still thrust on and on, blinding him with thrills of relish and pleasure. Sand ground amidst the sweat between their bodies, and the sun continued to beat down. At times it took all Sanji had to convince himself he wasn't near to passing out from heat stroke.

"Zoro…." He panted, clawing at the solid slickness of Zoro's shoulders, "I can't….it's too much, I'm…I'm feeling a little faint…"

He wasn't expecting a reply at all, and so was absolutely stunned to receive the one he did. "Tell me you love me again." They were the first words Zoro had spoken since the moment they had begun, almost a half an hour ago.  Sanji's brain raced desperately to comprehend their rather simple meaning, but couldn't manage it without stammering:

"What?"

Zoro didn't seem to be in the mood for explaining himself, and in fact seemed a little bit ashamed at his own request. He closed his eyes, grimace of concentration still on his face as he snarled, "Just say it. Please. Now. I'm coming."

A little taken aback, but certainly not meaning it any less, Sanji formed the words, "I love you…" thinking only as Zoro's voice broke out with a soft, groaning cry, to add, "…Zoro."

His toes curled and his hips rose against the awkward tightness of Zoro's body as he felt the swordsman come inside of him. But he kept his eyes wide open, still agape and shocked at the unexpected request. Zoro panted over him. A bead of sweat dropped in a little dive down the side of his nose, and fell off onto Sanji's chest. Every inch of his body breathed, reacted, worked as hard as it could to relax, and to quell the shaking and spinning in his head. Even as Zoro sat back on his knees and released Sanji's legs, no words were to be heard from either of them.

It took a long time for Sanji to find himself in that eerily silent moment. Somehow it felt like something had been done that was changing the fabric of their interaction, but Sanji didn't know how to define it. He wanted to hear me say it, right before he came… he thought to himself, staring up at the infinite, blue, cloudless sky above Betoni Island, is that as good as admitting he loves me, too? Or is it just that he wants to know that I'm his, absolutely; just another stage of his power game?

"Why'd you have to go and fuck it up like that?" He asked, half-joking, half-serious. Sanji wanted to test Zoro, wanted to see if he could distinguish the levity from the sobriety.

Zoro seemed unfazed, still panting in recovery and staring up as well. His arms hung limp by his sides, and his knees were still tucked beneath him. "I thought it would make you happy." It was another defiant comment, right back at him. Sanji expected, but didn't necessarily fear, that it would continue as such a tennis match. Emotions were never so easy to ferret out.

"So you just did that to make me happy? Didn't seem like you were in such a state to think objectively."

"I'm just surprised that you're so defensive about it."

"I'm not defensive," he wanted a cigarette so bad that it hurt, "just a little rattled by it, that's all."

"Can I help it, that I like to hear you say it?"

"You can try, if you're just being selfish."

Zoro flopped over on his side, and stretched out in the sand. Sanji didn't even blink in his direction, but heard every movement of his body, and felt his toes brush Zoro's shin as he arranged himself. "Oh. Well…I'm still testing the waters."

Sanji sighed. "I'll settle for that." He would have been a fool to press the issue, to demand answers to the questions Zoro knew he wanted to ask.

But there was nothing else to do. He was just thinking, wondering, not even the post-coital smoke to distract his brain. He wondered, because there was nothing else to do, how long Zoro would be testing his waters. If things would really be changing. How long it would take them to mutate into whatever it was they were destined to be.

"Hey." Sanji finally couldn't stand it any more. The silence, the nothing.

"Mm?"

"You love me, don't you?"

Zoro didn't pause as long as Sanji would have expected before answering. "We're nakama."

Plus a little bit more, Sanji heard Zoro's own words from weeks ago in his mind. The 'little bit more' was throbbing every muscle in his body, exhausting every bit of energy, making his breath burn and rasp as it curdled in his belly. "Not that I care," he finally added, but knowing that Zoro knew better than to believe him, "I'm just wondering."

"I know," Zoro's tone was simple and placating, "I just don't have an answer. Good thing you don't care."

"You're baiting me."

"You're surprised?"

"Not really."

"I need to start getting ready for tomorrow. I'm gonna take a nap first, okay?"

Sanji propped himself up on his elbows, watching as Zoro splayed himself, casually naked on the sand, hands behind his head. He closed his eyes and, as expected, was motionless within moments.

"Baka," Sanji finally whispered to himself, a smile dancing on his lips as he watched the hypnotic motion of Zoro's sleeping chest, rising and falling with such efficient rhythm. He chuckled to himself, and sat up, wondering all the things he hadn't thought to ask Zoro, as distracted as he had been by the 'l' word entering the scene, "I wonder if you liked it." He whispered, leaning his chin into his hands, still smiling.

The odd, drug-like state of happiness that seized his mind was too encouraging to waste. He rose to his feet and set off to gather his clothes, hoping again that Armerind was watching as he strode triumphantly from the pleasantly sleeping body of his lover. Loving a swordsman… he thought to himself, it's probably not as bad as he makes it seem. After all, if I didn't have Zoro to keep me in check, the balance of the universe itself might be disrupted. I might be grasping at a straw, but it's good a reason as any to have faith.

~*~*~*~

In the hours that passed, his peace of mind only built, even after Zoro awoke from his nap, all the afternoon until dusk began to settle in the sky. Wishing away any nervousness, pleased that the wish was all it took, he wiled away an hour or two fishing, determined to cook something more meticulously than what he had thrown together earlier that day. For minutes at a time he would glance over and raise an eyebrow at Zoro, who seemed to be overcompensating in his practice, as if having only one sword somehow made him weak. With a motherly, chastising voice in his head, Sanji thought, well maybe if you hadn't been so determined to fight that Mihawk guy, you wouldn't have to lie in this bed…When actually, he was more than a little concerned at Zoro's lacking. Skillful, strong, and dauntless though he was, Sanji knew Zoro wasn't as resourceful as all that. How long had it been since the san-tou-ryu master had even considered practicing a killing blow with only one sword? Sanji sighed and stared down at the marinade simmering fragrantly over the fire. He wouldn't let that get to him. Surely Zoro knew what he was doing.

The sun was beginning the sink over the rocky hills, not quite large enough to call mountains, when Armerind reappeared at their camp.

He was wearing a white scarf on his head, beneath which his unruly black curls still poked out in all directions. A tattered, animal-skin coat hung loosely from his arms, dusting his ankles. A smug smile was on his face, as usual; the ash-marks on his cheeks were smudged. It was obvious that his day was drawing to a close.

In his arms, he carried a heavily wrapped bundle, a hemp tie flapping in the wind as he held it out to whoever would take it first. Zoro remained where he was, between Armerind and Sanji, caught in the middle of his thousandth thrusting blow. They were windward from the smoke of the campfire. Armerind coughed at it, but only slightly; still politely.

"Don't eat the mushrooms," he said curtly, "every variety I've found on this island is either poisonous or might as well be, they taste so awful."

Sanji sneered, and flipped one of the filets, letting the other side sizzle loudly as he growled, "Don't worry."

"I brought an offering. Just to make things fair. I don't believe an artist is as effective outside of his practiced medium."

The bundle in his arms remained untouched. Sanji looked over, hazarding a glance from Armerind in order to witness Zoro's reaction. His white katana was still aloft, still in the middle of an exercise that wouldn't be interrupted by someone as unimportant as Armerind. "What's that supposed to mean?" He huffed, exerted in a way that anyone could see.

"I won't bother you any further. You are not obligated to accept my gift." Armerind knelt gracefully, and laid the bundle in the sand, near where the grass began to grow and lead into the jungle. Just then, kneeling politely in his head wrap and long coat, he looked like a genuinely kind, subdued sort of man. Sanji wondered at his psychology for not the first time. It worried him, even to wonder about such a person, mired in his own consciousness and living so long with only the strength of a single ambition to drive him. Not even the distraction of an acquaintance or a hobby. Only striving, only preparing. As his skin shuddered and goose bumps began to rise, Sanji removed the fish from the fire and gnashed his teeth.

"Get lost, we're about to eat."

Zoro lowered his sword and straightened his posture, turning to look in his direction. "Sanji…" he began, but only sighed in frustration. Then, Sanji heard Armerind chuckle.

"I see. I won't take any more of your time together. I understand now the depth of your commitment to one another, and far be it from me to intrude on—"

"I said get lost." Sanji said, louder, picking up a butcher knife and wielding it impressively, spinning it twice in his hand before bringing it down over the end of a lemon. He never looked over, not even to see if Zoro was scowling at his childish standoffishness.

Armerind didn't even respond. Sanji waited in silence, slicing the lemon under his hand as thin as he could, prolonging the chore until he heard Zoro stepping lightly across the sand. Finally, he was shadowed from behind. "A few more minutes and I might not have even been the one to fight him." Zoro smirked down at him.

Sanji leaned back, falling against Zoro's knees and cradling his head between them. Expression softening, he looked up, and tried his best to smile. "He pisses me off."

"Hey, we have that in common."

Though Sanji noticed that his hand hesitated for just a moment, Zoro ruffled his hair playfully.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Sanji flailed for a moment, nearly upsetting the bottle of cooking wine by his feet as he kicked out, reached up, and dug his fingers into Zoro's hand, cutting short the injustice being done to his hair.

Zoro laughed, his spirits obviously high, and fell to his knees. He pulled Sanji close from behind, and nuzzled his face into the upset blonde head with a cheerful "Mmmm…!"

It almost made him giggle, the tickling sensation of Zoro's breath in his hair, and he relaxed against the embrace. "Gotta finish dinner." He said simply, loose and gangly in the other man's arms, sinking almost completely against the sand with his knees pointed high.

"I know," Zoro patted him lightly on the belly, "and I'm hungry, so make it quick."

He tried, but his mind kept wandering, distracting him, making him angry as it kept him from his usually unflappable culinary process. For the first few minutes he paid more attention to Zoro, wondering if he was going to open Armerind's package, but after those minutes he made himself forget it.

By the time he looked up at Zoro next, the package was open, and Zoro was holding two unfamiliar, pristine katanas in his hands, with his usual white one cradled protectively in his lap.

"He gave you swords." Sanji remarked flatly.

Zoro didn't respond. His mind was focused on examining them, probing them for weaknesses. He leveled them with his eyes, ran his thumb over the blunt edges, threw a rock into the air and sliced through it with a criss-cross swipe of the blades. Finally, he sighed. "Is it time to eat yet?"

A complimentary word may have been too much to ask, but Sanji knew that Zoro appreciated the more refined meal waiting for him, even if it was a silent appreciation. They ate quietly for a while, Zoro's ravenous consumption the only indicator that he was enjoying the meal. Otherwise, his face stayed pinched in a battle-ready expression, wall-eyed and waiting for something that wasn't really scheduled to come until the next day.

"Only for the duel, of course," He finally said, taking Sanji completely off guard, so much that his teacup rattled in his hand at Zoro's voice, "I'm not keeping his damned swords. I don't need any charity from him."

"It won't be charity if you take them from him after he's dead."

"I don't want to kill him, Sanji," Zoro said bluntly, as if that fact should have been more than obvious, "he's just like I was, only a little while ago. He's so convinced and so headstrong. It'd be a shame to have him die right now. If Mihawk had killed me…it would be the same as what you're suggesting."

Sanji clenched his teeth and held back the curse he wanted to mutter at the mention of Mihawk. "You haven't seen him fight yet. He may be better than you're giving him credit for."

"Yes, I'm expecting that."

Not quite sure what to say in response, Sanji paused. Finally, he lifted his teacup and muttered through the steam, "Well I'm glad he gave you those swords."

"So am I, I guess."

"I suppose it would make you feel more confident."

"No. It just convinces me that he's honorable," sensing that there was something else he was going to add, Sanji waited for Zoro to continue, "I don't need help with my confidence."

Sanji smirked, and twisted another lemon slice into his tea.

~*~*~*~

"You're not tired, are you?"

"Of course I'm not tired."

Zoro smiled, though lazily. "You're tired. It's written all over your face. You can't go on, you're about to pass out."

"Baka! You're confusing me with you again." Sanji panted between words, grateful for Zoro's arms holding him up as he slumped against his chest, cozily situated in his lap.

He had never even known he was capable of lasting this long. There had been nights when he had been tempted, or even left longing for more, but never had he been taunted, dared, egged on into continuing. I should've known, he thought, enjoying the timid moment as they both waited for the next wind to seize them, that he'd be the one to bring it out of me.

After sundown they'd pitched a second tent, fearing another night rain would inhibit their sleep even if it only seemed to enhance their lovemaking. But as the night progressed, and the rain began to fall in a tentative drizzle that made music on the tent's canvas, sleep seemed to be the least of their concerns.

"You're sure you don't want to sleep?" Sanji gasped, not meaning to, but unable to catch his breath.

"I knew it. You're tired."

"I'm not!" Sanji pulled back and shoved Zoro in the chest, letting himself topple back with a scowl. He lay there in front of Zoro, legs thrown out on either side of his hips, indignation all over his face, "I just don't want you blaming me tomorrow if you're not prepared."

"I can sleep tomorrow. The duel's not until sundown." Zoro smiled, reached between them, and cupped Sanji's balls gently. As his face flushed, Sanji threw his head back and groaned. The interim between go-rounds was just long enough to keep his body at a constant state of agitation, just long enough to keep him from going numb or passing out from the pure relentlessness of Zoro's sex drive.

The most incredible moment had passed in the previous hour, after a length of time that Sanji wasn't quite apt to determine. Zoro, ever eager to extract even the slightest moment of weakness from him, had traveled him so slowly, his hands and mouth all that mattered for all those minutes, all those long, endless minutes. Probing him, tickling him, licking him in every hidden, shuddering place. But never where it mattered most, and Zoro knew this. He kept it up, torturously, slower and slower, until Sanji couldn't stand it anymore. His cock twitched dark and dripping as Zoro's slick and sandpaper tongue grazed his nipples meticulously, forcing Sanji to cry out and beg him – beg him, he thought with secretly exultant humiliation – to touch it.

He could try to count, as low as the numbers were, but somehow he couldn't exactly be sure of how many times he had come tonight, in Zoro's mouth, in his body, between them or on his knees as Zoro fucked him, again and again. He never seemed to be as desperate and determined as Sanji was; the stamina just seemed to be natural, unending, absolutely mind-boggling.

After all, Sanji writhed, exhausted but begging for just one more time, which would turn into another, and another, he knew, I was the one who asked him to make love to me, all night long. I forgot how seriously he takes things.

But I know he's just testing me, he looked up and licked his lips, eyes half-lidded as he panted, and felt Zoro's hand slide over his hardening cock, gently coaxing it, training it, this is just another one of our competitions. I'm glad it's so much more delicious than all of those others, though.

"You know," he breathed, his body humming like a live wire on the ground, his legs squirming around Zoro's hips, "if you eat more vegetables, it makes it taste better."

Zoro lifted one eyebrow. "Are you saying I don't taste good?" The way he sounded so challenging, Sanji almost wanted to say 'no' and face whatever consequences were planned.

"Hm. I forget. Let me check again," He smiled, searching his mouth for the bitter taste of Zoro that might be left behind. Zoro regarded his cheeky answer with a smirk, "I'm serious though. Makes it a little sweet."

"Has this been confirmed?"

Sanji was a little bit embarrassed to be quizzed on something so silly, especially in his vulnerable state, but he rolled his eyes and shrugged, trying to distract attention from his blush, "I've just heard."

"You eat a lot of vegetables."

"…and?" He was obviously eager to know.

"Not that I have anything to compare it to, but I'm not displeased." Zoro was holding back, Sanji knew.

"Mmmm…" he reached up over his head, smiling, stretching, enjoying the little mini-orgasmic feeling as his shoulders relaxed. He brought his hands down and half-hid his face, peeking up coyly as he asked, "make me come with your hands."

"Oh, you like that, do you?" Zoro preened.

"Mm-hmmm…"

"If I do this," Zoro began, sliding two fingers inside of Sanji without hesitation, "will you do something for me?"

"Anything." Sanji whispered, but it was only the impulse of the moment. Really, he didn't want to make such a promise. He didn't want to do anything Zoro wanted. He wouldn't want to turn a blind eye. He wouldn't want to stop caring. But there was the urgency of now, pushing him toward believing that nothing else mattered, that anything could happen between the slippery union of their bodies tonight and the clash of four swords tomorrow.

"Watch the sunrise with me."

To hear Zoro ask something like that almost made him want to laugh. But beneath the schoolboy amusement his heartstrings were indeed tugged. "What if it's still raining?"

Feverish heat was rising to his cheeks again, and he couldn't suppress his reactions as Zoro stroked and fingered him, pushing him toward yet another way-too-satisfying orgasm. "It won't be."

But it was. Hours passed in hot, sweating solitude, and Zoro and Sanji heard nothing but the pitter-patter of pensive rain on top of their tent, even as a lightness began to dawn outside, subdued by shades of gray. Between gasps, maybe they made up their minds to stay where they were, but whatever the case, they collapsed at last, both declaring without saying outright that they were far too exhausted to go on. The competition, Sanji assumed, they would be calling a draw.

"Hey," Sanji elbowed Zoro, not willing at all to let him fall asleep first.

"Mm."

"I'll watch tomorrow's sunrise with you, okay?" Sanji said, his point taken though it may have been subtle.

Zoro actually seemed grateful for his words as he threw his arm over Sanji and sank into the pillow face-first. "Sounds great."

Neither presumed to care, but Sanji would always wonder who really did fall asleep first, after that.