[Shit he never thought the press of fingers into his arms like that would speak to his own urges so much. Zoro is doing his damnedest to focus, though, to try to ignore it, though the blush on his cheekbones betrays his own failure to will himself to be stronger than this.]

We can! [he insists!!! with a lot of gnashing of teeth] It's just...we can just get off each other and stand up and throw them out! I'm not gonna just sit here and let a damn book control me!

[his hands come around and rest on Sanji's thighs, very clearly poised to shove him off, but they don't. Instead, they clench on those powerful muscles, squeezing, and he catches himself doing it and ugh why is he so weak? Never mind that he has handfuls of the cook's deadly weapons now and everything he once wondered, what seems like years ago now, turns out to be every bit as true as he imagined.

Okay, no, this has to stop, he has to get out of this. But Sanji's weight on him prevents him from doing more than leaning forward until his forehead presses against Sanji's chest, something like a feeble head-butt in a desperate attempt to shove him off. There's a sad plea in it, a silent wish to be able to get himself under his own control again. Zoro wants to make the choice himself, not be pushed into it by a stupid book.]