[ now's the time to put a stop to it, before the hammering in his chest cracks him wide open, before his simmering panic stokes into flames. his breath becomes uneven. he has that feeling he always used to get when he didn't know if his brothers were going to kill him or not.
zoro's not going to kill him. nobody ever died from a cock in their mouth. probably.
more importantly, he doesn't want zoro to think he can't do this. sanji's thought about it enough, mostly against his will because his thoughts are traitorous on a good day, and he has talented hands and a talented mouth, so how hard could it be? if he doesn't, he'll be up all night thinking about it again anyway. of zoro's bulk and his strength and his sour face. his pretty lips. his pretty eyes.
and it feels like something between them could break if he backs out now.
not that he cares.
it doesn't take long to find him, and he comes with a beer in his hand. they have the ship to themselves tonight, which is a damn shame since they both should be out with other people in town right now. but since zoro decided to be a big heroic babysitter and bring sanji back to the safety of the merry to sleep off his drunken rage, it's quiet. they're alone.
he wants to light a cigarette, but he reminds himself he needs his mouth for other things. he saunters in with one hand in his pocket, his sleeves rolled up, his clothes rumpled from his earlier mishaps. he's half hard, but the darkness hides it.
he holds out the bottle for zoro to take, already opened. ]
This is what you'd be doing if you were still at the bar, right? [ enjoying a drink, grinding against some nameless stranger. ] Sorry I'm not a stocky brunet.
[ that's the only preamble he gives before he steps into zoro's space, his hand dipping into his waistband. easy. a jolt of something electric moves through him when he curls his fingers around his cock, hard and hot and velvety. it feels different from his own. it feels hefty, like everything else about him.
their faces are very close, close enough that sanji feels the warmth of his breath and sees the exquisite shape of his lips. his mouth suddenly feels dry, his knees weak. his own trousers tighten as he strokes him from base to tip, his grip hard, squeezing out pearls of moisture from the tip that he catches on the pad of his thumb. when he retracts his hand, he presses his wet thumb to the plush fullness of zoro's bottom lip. ]
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zoro's not going to kill him. nobody ever died from a cock in their mouth. probably.
more importantly, he doesn't want zoro to think he can't do this. sanji's thought about it enough, mostly against his will because his thoughts are traitorous on a good day, and he has talented hands and a talented mouth, so how hard could it be? if he doesn't, he'll be up all night thinking about it again anyway. of zoro's bulk and his strength and his sour face. his pretty lips. his pretty eyes.
and it feels like something between them could break if he backs out now.
not that he cares.
it doesn't take long to find him, and he comes with a beer in his hand. they have the ship to themselves tonight, which is a damn shame since they both should be out with other people in town right now. but since zoro decided to be a big heroic babysitter and bring sanji back to the safety of the merry to sleep off his drunken rage, it's quiet. they're alone.
he wants to light a cigarette, but he reminds himself he needs his mouth for other things. he saunters in with one hand in his pocket, his sleeves rolled up, his clothes rumpled from his earlier mishaps. he's half hard, but the darkness hides it.
he holds out the bottle for zoro to take, already opened. ]
This is what you'd be doing if you were still at the bar, right? [ enjoying a drink, grinding against some nameless stranger. ] Sorry I'm not a stocky brunet.
[ that's the only preamble he gives before he steps into zoro's space, his hand dipping into his waistband. easy. a jolt of something electric moves through him when he curls his fingers around his cock, hard and hot and velvety. it feels different from his own. it feels hefty, like everything else about him.
their faces are very close, close enough that sanji feels the warmth of his breath and sees the exquisite shape of his lips. his mouth suddenly feels dry, his knees weak. his own trousers tighten as he strokes him from base to tip, his grip hard, squeezing out pearls of moisture from the tip that he catches on the pad of his thumb. when he retracts his hand, he presses his wet thumb to the plush fullness of zoro's bottom lip. ]
Do a tasting. [ and don't call him a coward. ]