Well it was definitely too hot inside.

Sanji draped the freshly dampened, and dripping wet kitchen clotch around his neck and sighed. He didn't have a thermometer inside, but if he had to guess, it was at least 40 degrees inside, or anywhere, even in shades. It didn't really help that he had to close the door and windows as well, since the humidity made everyone on deck lazy and unmotivated, driving their Captain to sneak inside several times in an attempt to try andto eat away his boredom.

Even the green haired swordsman was taking a break of his hideously superhuman training – ondue to Chopper's persuasion, since anyone else's prayingattempt was doomed to futility, thought the cook with a bitter taste in his mouth. Now he was just chilling in t he middle of the deck under the shadow of the main mastwaist and idly cleaning his swords, green coat discarded beside him.

The cook sighed and wiped his forehead, watching the green haired moron getting his moss roasted., He was the only one of the crewbeing the only one who deniedrejected the refreshing caress of the cool sea or the aquarium's tank below deck. Sanji himself didn't count, being on meal duty as per usual. But how could somebody, who actually had a chance, choose to boil in his own sweat over swimming?!

Sanji continued to watch the idiot. Not like he was planned wathing the idioting this way, he just kind of caught on the habit. Way back at the Merry's tiny kitchen, where his limited source of natural light was right above the preparing area, the small window opened to the hidden deck where the swordsman held his usual daily routine. And during the past year, he'd just somehow gotten used to Zoro's presence, the small gasps and deep growls escaping from his chest, the way his body bent as he prepared himself for another round of workouts.

Sanji didn't mind watching Zoro stretch. The way his back muscles jumped, or when he bent down. He didn't mind the glistening sweat running down the rough tan skin, the way it dampened the hem of the lowly clinging pants. The sharp hipbones. The small visible dimples just above the hem of thehis pants or the rippling, heaving abs the swordmanswordsman scratched ocssionallyoccasionally, staring at the waist ocean.

Breaking his own rule, Sanji lit a cigarette. He still remembered the day his body told him just how much theyit doesn't mind the swordsman's presencet.

It was still their first year in Luffy's crew when one morning, while he was preparing the stew for lunch, instead of the usual noises there were soft 'thumps' and 'squeekssqueaks' coming from outside, so curiously, the cook stepped aside from the owven and peeked out the window. There, in the soft morning light, was the swordsman,. Hhis skin was already shining with a light layer of sweat, utter determination on his face. He seemed to be thinking about something and Sanji was almost turning aroused from the sight when the swordsman's body twisted, moving arms adding to the of the momentum of the movement and his legs left the ground and dreaw a long, powerful kick in the air.

Sanji's breath hitched in his throat but the mosshead didn't seem to notice anything as he continued the practice. The movements were something he must have picked up from his fighting style, but the swordsman had mixed it with some other martial art he'd learned before. It clearly wasn't his usualsuitable fighting style, leaving too much opening and not reaching high enough, but nonetheless – or maybe because of theits oddityunusualness – fascinating to the eyes.

Sanji's mouth felt dry, and his face hot despite the mild March temperatures. Zoro shifted and moved, hands touching the ground from time to time, powerful hips twisting his legs in mid airmid-air. It looked like a very agressiveaggressive, lethal dance and goddammit, Sanji wanted to try it out, driving against that thight and flexing body on display every goddamn day, experiencing out the new rhythm, enjoying the rushing of adrenaline in his veins, legs against legs, kicking and pushing and touching that sweaty, salty, flushed, dark skinned covered body with everything he had.

Sanji paused suddenly, his hips coming to a halt against the wooden side of the kitchen counter. While his mind was far away, his body had started to act on hisits own, grinding his hard erection against it, trying to find pleasure and relief., and Sanji backed away in shock and slight mortification.

The second thing wthat hit his senses, was a strong smell of burning food coming from the pots. The cook let out an ungodly shriek and fled to the remains of the stew, trying to save what's was possible.

They eatate pasta for lunch that day.

Sanji blew out the smoke of his cigarette, surfacing from the memories whileand his eyes were still glued to the green-haired man andwith his lovingly moving hands as he cleaned the swords with patience. The metal was already gleaming and the light catched on them brightly,. but tThe swordsman still didn't look satisfyied as he moved his hand up the lengtht once again, slowly and steadily.

Sanji let out a soft grunt and ran a hand down the front of his pants, fingers caressing against the building pressure. The cook hissed – even through the layers of clotch, he felt sensitive and ready, aching for the swordsman's touch. The same touch which was haunting his nights in the past years.

The swordsman stopped his movements and examined the blade, close to his pface, blowing at something and smiling appreciatively.
God it was a torture. Sanji closed his eyes for a moment, swallowing as his right had slid under the hem of his pants, picturing it was the swordsman hand doing the same against touching his cock, his fingers wrapped around Sanji's lengtht and blowing against the wet precome he already felt on his fingertips. He can'tshouldn't break his own first two principal rules on the same day goddamnit. He'd sworne not to use the new ship's pantry the same way he did withhad the Merry's storeroom.

Sanji opened his eyes and saw that Zoro was sheathing Wado and let out a relived sigh. Maybe if he can't see the swordsman's movements he'd be able to regain his composure and not cream himself. Damn him and his overworking libido. And damn the shitty marimo for making a complete wreck out of him, unattemptedunintended or not.

But only before itwado's saya could click shut, the swordsman noticed something, and unsheatedunsheathed her once again.
Sanji let his head fall back and bit at his lower lip to muffle a grunt. His fly was already open and only the button of his trousers held back his movements. He looked out again at the swordsman who was rubbing at something at the base of the blade with harder movements, a frown on his face and just that only was enough to make the cook straighten up and fly towards the pantry's door, fingers wrapped around himself and mind full of Zoro's hot velvety smooth mouth and tongue, cursing on the way.

He could already see himself breaking his own rules numerous times in the future.

End

expect if I get more prompts like this