[ he knows it's a lot to ask him to trust him with that request, mostly because zoro's never once done sanji any favors since he first boarded this ship. except even this, the intentions surfacing in his mind, don't entirely count as a favor either, knowing they come with their own brand of selfishness, the parts of himself that crave to see, to feel, to taste, the honest possibilities of sanji wanting him. zoro's desires tend to fairly limited — alcohol, food, sleep, swords, fights, becoming the greatest swordsman — so it hasn't exactly been easy to navigate where sanji fits into all of it. which is why pushing makes it easier, enough insults and badgering comments meant to keep the distance intact.
but sanji's wormed his way past those barriers by fighting back, whether he meant to cross the accidental line or not, and now — now, the blond is on the floor with an aching hard cock and zoro stupidly wants to give him everything.
when his legs remember how to function, he takes a step to the side so that he can rest the bottle of beer still in hand on the nearest crate, before lowering himself down to the ground on his own knees of front of sanji. keeping his eyes on him, he reaches forward with both of his hands, brushing sanji's aside at his belt buckle as zoro finishes where he'd left off, guiding the zipper the rest of the way down before snagging his fingers into the hems of it all to begin tugging it down. sanji'll have to cooperate in lifting his hips but zoro doesn't stop even when the fullness of sanji's cock springs free and erect (fuck, he looks good when he's hard), dragging his pants down along his thighs, past his knees, until he can leave them in a bundle at his ankles.
he shuffles forward, leaning forward between parted legs, getting a closer inspection of that stiff length, visibly soaked over the crown. chances are, he might not last too long through this, which means zoro'll have to put plenty into that limited time. he can do that.
lips hovering all the swollen head, zoro conjures a wad of spit from his mouth, letting it drip down over an already messy tip, saliva and precome becoming a joint shiny mixture before zoro brings in his palm to drag both slowly down the fullness of sanji's cock, encouraging every slippery inch. instead of taking him full into mouth as sanji had done, he dips downward, parted lips pressing the flat of his tongue to his base, rubbing a massage from wet muscle that works its way down, stroking licks brushing over a sac, as his hand continues to pump steadily. ]
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but sanji's wormed his way past those barriers by fighting back, whether he meant to cross the accidental line or not, and now — now, the blond is on the floor with an aching hard cock and zoro stupidly wants to give him everything.
when his legs remember how to function, he takes a step to the side so that he can rest the bottle of beer still in hand on the nearest crate, before lowering himself down to the ground on his own knees of front of sanji. keeping his eyes on him, he reaches forward with both of his hands, brushing sanji's aside at his belt buckle as zoro finishes where he'd left off, guiding the zipper the rest of the way down before snagging his fingers into the hems of it all to begin tugging it down. sanji'll have to cooperate in lifting his hips but zoro doesn't stop even when the fullness of sanji's cock springs free and erect (fuck, he looks good when he's hard), dragging his pants down along his thighs, past his knees, until he can leave them in a bundle at his ankles.
he shuffles forward, leaning forward between parted legs, getting a closer inspection of that stiff length, visibly soaked over the crown. chances are, he might not last too long through this, which means zoro'll have to put plenty into that limited time. he can do that.
lips hovering all the swollen head, zoro conjures a wad of spit from his mouth, letting it drip down over an already messy tip, saliva and precome becoming a joint shiny mixture before zoro brings in his palm to drag both slowly down the fullness of sanji's cock, encouraging every slippery inch. instead of taking him full into mouth as sanji had done, he dips downward, parted lips pressing the flat of his tongue to his base, rubbing a massage from wet muscle that works its way down, stroking licks brushing over a sac, as his hand continues to pump steadily. ]