[ a sinking feeling persists in his gut, getting worse by the second. zoro doesn’t make a single fucking sound, and sanji can’t tell if that’s just standard issue zoro or if he’s doing something wrong. he should have — he should have tried this on someone else first, someone easier to read, someone for whom there is no thread of danger pulling him taut like a dumb animal that craves the risk. he shouldn’t have come here at all.
blue-gray eyes flicker upwards through the mess of his hair and he regrets it immediately. zoro is staring right down at him, watching him, something hazy but knowing in his gaze. his face burns, the curse that wants to tumble from his mouth stifled by the fact that it’s currently stuffed full of cock. the wet noises and harsh breaths are the loudest things in the room, all coming from him, and he has the absurd thought that maybe he would be better at this if he’d had the courage to kiss zoro first. he wonders if he’ll ever extend that invitation again.
then zoro’s hand curls around him, his thumb pressed to hot skin like a brand. he doesn’t push him, but sanji reacts as though he does, easing toward until his cock presses to his throat, unflinching this time, his nose buried in the fine grains of dark green hair. he swallows thickly, one hand digging into the sharp muscles at zoro’s hip. something warm and salty drips down the back of his throat — and that’s when he hears it. evidence of zoro’s pleasure from the quietest groan that escapes his lips.
it spurs him on. he pulls back, his slick cockhead slipping past his swollen lips, his tongue curling around him. just that one sound from zoro has him achingly hard in his own trousers, the mere fabric causing an almost painful amount of friction. he almost squeezes himself — almost, but his fingers wrap around the base of zoro’s shaft instead, working in tandem with his mouth. what he lacks in casual finesse he makes up for with willful determination, with blown out lust, his pride nearly obliterated by the desperate, pressing desire to make zoro feel good. ]
no subject
blue-gray eyes flicker upwards through the mess of his hair and he regrets it immediately. zoro is staring right down at him, watching him, something hazy but knowing in his gaze. his face burns, the curse that wants to tumble from his mouth stifled by the fact that it’s currently stuffed full of cock. the wet noises and harsh breaths are the loudest things in the room, all coming from him, and he has the absurd thought that maybe he would be better at this if he’d had the courage to kiss zoro first. he wonders if he’ll ever extend that invitation again.
then zoro’s hand curls around him, his thumb pressed to hot skin like a brand. he doesn’t push him, but sanji reacts as though he does, easing toward until his cock presses to his throat, unflinching this time, his nose buried in the fine grains of dark green hair. he swallows thickly, one hand digging into the sharp muscles at zoro’s hip. something warm and salty drips down the back of his throat — and that’s when he hears it. evidence of zoro’s pleasure from the quietest groan that escapes his lips.
it spurs him on. he pulls back, his slick cockhead slipping past his swollen lips, his tongue curling around him. just that one sound from zoro has him achingly hard in his own trousers, the mere fabric causing an almost painful amount of friction. he almost squeezes himself — almost, but his fingers wrap around the base of zoro’s shaft instead, working in tandem with his mouth. what he lacks in casual finesse he makes up for with willful determination, with blown out lust, his pride nearly obliterated by the desperate, pressing desire to make zoro feel good. ]