"Please tell me that you're not going to defend that woman's honor while your hand is wrapped around my dick."

"Just answer the question and tell me how you fucking know that."

Either the cook was too pissed off to know what he was doing, or he DID know and was that much of a sadistic bastard, but the squeeze that accompanied the last word of the demand just about drove all threads of their argument completely from Zoro's mind.

He must have taken too long to respond, because the fist around him tightened impatiently. Zoro grunted low in his throat, and then started to panic, just a little, as he felt more of his IQ drain deeper into the trapped appendage.

"Wha – about Nami?" he panted stupidly.

"Yes, you asshole. That thing you said."

"About how her carpet matches her drapes?" he offered in what he hoped was a helpful manner.

This time, the squeeze was accompanied with a tight pull that buckled Zoro's knees, and sent him to the floor. Sanji, never loosing contact, followed him down with a controlled grace of which the swordsman was no longer capable.

"YES. How. Do. You. Know. That."

The blond's hand moved forward and then back with each word, and then continued with an increased pace as he calmly waited for the other man's reply.

Zoro buried his head against Sanji's neck, and panted wetly,

"It's a small ship."

"So?" and the blond still sounded so fucking calm as he continued to thoroughly tear Zoro apart, that the swordsman concluded that he was going to have to kill the bastard post-orgasm.

Then, that thought left him too, and there was nothing else more to do but dig his fingers hard into Sanji's shoulders, arch his back, and gasp out,

"Namisin'ttheonlyonewholikestolook!"