Wake Me Up -ZoSan-

Warning: The following story contains 'Boy love'.

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Zoro eased himself down next to Sanji on the futon with a relieved sigh, closing his eyes.  He'd just gotten off of his late watch and was looking forward to a long rest.  Though...  Green eyes opened to slide lazily over the sleeping blonde.  He looked so innocent.  So unlike the hellion that Sanji transformed into while awake.  Zoro grinned.  Maybe he could use this to his advantage; there were few things he liked more than sleep, but molesting Sanji was definitely one of them.

The cook barely stirred as Zoro moved over him, fingers coaxing Sanji's chin up to capture those slack lips in a slow kiss.  His other hand pushed at the light t-shirt to reveal pale flesh, creamy skin stretched over deceptively strong abs, stroking and caressing in ways the blonde would never allow while awake.  Sanji responded, shifting and murmuring something incomprehensible into Zoro's mouth.  The swordsman let his hands travel lower in reply, the blonde fuzz starting below Sanji's navel feeling soft beneath his fingertips.    

A quiet moan, and suddenly Zoro found himself staring into a single crystal blue orb.  Oh shit.  The swordsman made to pull back, out of range of those deadly feet, but found himself stopped by the hand tangled in his haramaki.  "Nh, Zoro..."  Sanji sighed, pulling Zoro closer.  "Don't go."  

How could he possibly refuse?  Especially after a flexible leg slipped from between his to wrap around his waist, drawing their hips together, pressing Sanji's growing arousal against his thigh.  Moonlight lit the faint blush across the cook's cheeks as he squirmed against the swordsman.  

"Need something, cook?"

"S-shut up, bastard," Sanji groaned, arching into Zoro.  "You start groping me, wake me up, and expect me to just roll over and forget about it?"  He reached down to palm the swordsman's answering hardness, eyebrow quirking at the pleased whine that rose from Zoro's throat.  "I know this isn't just for show."

The swordsman leered.  "Nope."  He could definitely put *that* to good use.  

*     *     *

Sanji awoke to find a muscle-bound arm draped over him as a very happy (and apparently still sleeping) swordsman ground himself lazily against the blonde's backside.  

The cook sputtered.  "Asshole, what are you doing?!"

No answer.

Are you fucking serious?!  "Oi, Marimo," he hissed, trying vainly to pull away from the odd embrace, "get off!  I have no desire to be party to your perverted wet dreams.  *Off*!"

Still no answer.  

At least, not until the cook managed to punt the bastard against the wall.