The night was still young, and Zoro's watch had begun only an hour ago. The green haired man was in the middle of a short, still cautious nap, Wado resting peacefully in his lap, when their slumber was unexpectedly interrupted by a quiet rustle.

The moonlight illuminated the cook's face, no particular expression on it. He stood just a step away from Zoro, watching him from above, his hands in his pockets. Tensing, Zoro clenched his fingers around Wado's hilt. He had already opened his mouth for a harsh word, but the blond was the first to speak.

"Let's fuck," He deadpanned.

For a moment the swordsman thought he misheard. Or maybe it was another weird dream he used to have more and more often recently.

Brow arching, Zoro peered into the cook's face. No doubts it was real, it was happening. The real cook furrowed, pulled a real pack of real cigarettes out of his pocket, lit one up and inhaled noisily. The harsh smell that hit Zoro's nose was also real enough.

"Okay, never mind," Sanji muttered, turning on his heels to leave.

Zoro didn't know what made him stand up and wrap his fingers around the blond's upper arm.

"I haven't refused yet," He uttered. His voice sounded somewhat foreign to himself.

Turning back to face Zoro, the cook glanced shortly into his eyes. His face was absolutely serious, not a hint of a smile. The green haired man felt his gut flipping nervously.

Shaking Zoro's hand off his arm, Sanji reached into his pocket again. Something flashed between his thin fingers.

"Heads or tails?" He asked quietly, receiving a slightly puzzled look. Sighing, Sanji unfolded his hand, a coin of Beri resting on his palm. It glinted softly in the silver light, as well as the cook's sweated skin.

"Heads."

Sanji nodded shortly. His thumb jerked, sending the coin up to the night sky. He caught it on a fly sharply and slammed his fist over the back of his other hand. His curly eyebrow quivered as he glanced at the coin.

"Heads," He uttered, hiding the coin into his pocket.

Zoro swallowed thickly.

After crashing the cigarette butt under his heel, the blond stepped closer to the wooden railing. Driven by a pure instinct, Zoro followed him, his fingers clenching in a fist and unclenching.

The blond was facing the ocean, and Zoro heard a clink. Putting two and two, the green haired man gripped the hum of his haramaki, sliding it up along with his shirt. When the clothes opened his vision again, the blond was bending over the railing, the edge of his blue striped shirt barely hiding the line of his bare hips.

The silence interrupted only by quiet breeze was unnerving, and even more unnerving was Sanji's position – Zoro couldn't see his face and its expression. Unzipping his pants, the green haired man lowered himself on his knees.

He froze, eyeing the cook's back. Sanji wasn't moving at all, his fingers gripping the wood. It all felt so surreal that Zoro again doubted that he wasn't dreaming. But even if his mind was hesitating, his subconscious sent his hand to rest on the blond's hip. His skin was warm, small hairs tickled Zoro's palm as he stroked it lightly. It wasn't another dream.

Wrapping his fingers around his already hard cock – Zoro didn't even notice when he'd become so aroused – he brought it closer to the cook's entrance, but instantly was interrupted with a tap on his hand. He raised his eyes: Sanji's was holding out a small bottle to him. Oh.

Grabbing the bottle, Zoro unscrewed the cap and pressed some liquid out. It was cold and sticky on his fingers. Would it even be good like this?

"It's not only for you," Sanji said quietly as Zoro brought his now lubed head again. He cursed inwardly, adding more lube onto his fingers.

His fingertip circled around Sanji's entrance, then pressed inside a bit to try. No reply. Zoro slid it deeper, and then his whole finger was inside the cook, who still remained silent.

Wrestling the urge to ask if it was alright, Zoro just kept moving. He'd never thought the pulsing flesh would feel so overwhelmingly good even around his finger.

"Enough," Sanji uttered, moving his hips a bit forward to get away.

Zoro felt his heart thudding, blood rushing through his body, making him warm and desperate. How can he be so calm?

Rolling his hips slowly, Zoro entered. His cock slipped inside only half-way, but he instantly felt how tight Sanji was around him. The head was pulsing, and he thrusted forward, letting his whole length inside.

No, he definitely had no idea how this bastard was able to keep so quiet and collected. A groan Zoro could hardly suppress inside his chest came out as a hiss.

Gripping the cook's hip tighter, he started to move. Muscles tensed, breath rhythmical, Zoro's head spun from a bliss he'd never known he desired that much. Somewhere deep, in a dark corner of his muted mind, he realized he wouldn't last long. As if reading his mind, Sanji turned to look at him over his shoulder. A wide grin was plastered on his flushed face.

"You're greedy," The blond rasped.

Zoro felt his cock almost burst when he heard that voice in such an erotic way. However, he managed to collect himself and stared at the blond with an unspoken question in his eyes.

"This way you'll never defeat me," Sanji whispered, smirking wider.

It was a competition.

Slowing down, Zoro calmed his breath. What an idiot he was, thinking the shit-cook would just let Zoro fuck him. Why didn't that obvious thought cross his mind? Damn it.

The green haired man stopped his pace, quietly enjoying the steady pulsation inside Sanji. Slipping his hands underneath the blue shirt, Zoro stroked the blond's back. He never knew it was all covered in small scars but still soft enough.

"What are you doing?" Sanji asked, barely audible. It wasn't even a question, and probably he didn't need a response. Zoro smiled, massaging the cook's back, then shifting his hands onto Sanji's sides.

Along with these caresses, he continued to move again, now slower. He wasn't going to be tender with the tricky cook, but at least he was now desperate to make him lose. And obviously, he was gaining some success.

Sanji's breath sharpened. He still suppressed any sounds possible, but at least now Zoro was sure he wasn't fucking a wall. Accompanying the moves of his hands with ascending thrusts, Zoro carefully explored the blond's body, hidden under those damned clothes.

The cook's skin felt softer on his chest than on his back. Zoro slid his fingers down the sharp collar bones, meeting the hairs on the blond's chest, his hardened nipples, tensed quivering abs and sweaty warm curls on his crotch. The back of his hand was hit with extremely hot flesh, and he clasped his fingers around it. A suppressed gasp escaped Sanji's clenched teeth.

Grinning, Zoro lowered himself forward, jerking his hips along with the blond's cock. He nuzzled the back of Sanji's neck, inhaling the spicy musk of the man's sweaty skin. His right hand travelled upwards the cook's inner thigh, his left hand worked on his hot length, his hips moved rapaciously, raising them both to the overwhelming rapture – Zoro couldn't get enough of this. But he wasn't able to keep himself down anymore. With an agonizing groan he released inside the blond, feeling the man's trembling body twitching. Sanji followed his orgasm with eager thrusts into his hand, gasping, hissing and clenching his fingers into the railing desperately.

Descending from the ecstasy, Zoro became aware of the rough reality. His muscles relaxed and ached annoyingly, not to mention his hand on Sanji's softening cock was sticky. He withdrew slowly and reached for his wrinkled shirt. It needed a laundry anyway, so he didn't hesitate much before wiping his hand with it.

Sanji was still his back to Zoro, panting. The green haired man noticed the cook's hand reaching to his face, but he was just placing a cigarette between his lips.

"You lost, Marimo," Sanji uttered. After some struggle with draft, he lit up a cigarette and inhaled sharply.

Of course Zoro knew the idiot cook would mock him. It had always been Sanji's most favorite thing to do, but the green haired man somewhat couldn't break that stubborn feeling inside his heart.

"I'll beat you next time," He grinned.

Sanji shifted from the railing, sitting down and fastening his belt. His one visible eye shot a menacing glare at Zoro.

"Who told you there would be a next time?" He raised his brow exasperatedly. "Now get your stupid ass out of here, it's time for my shift now."

Without saying any more words, Zoro grabbed his katanas and left the crow's nest.