[ he's cognizant of every single motion in the room. the grind of his zipper. the metal clank of his belt as zoro tugs his trousers down. the way he traps his fucking ankles so he can't easily kick him off. he wants to do something about that, but then warm breath cascades over his heated cock, making his thighs quiver. it becomes hard to think and even harder to keep his eyes open, but he does, still propped up and sharply watching zoro's movements like a man obsessed, his brows pinched and his chest rapid with breath.
spit. oh. he might have thought to do that. where he expects zoro to devour his cock, he has a different technique altogether, one that has his balls tightening and molten heat pooling deep in his belly. fuck. fuck. zoro is ten times better than he is, a thought that rankles even as he commits his motions to memory, both for educational purposes and for when he's alone.
it's too good. his back hits the floor despite his best efforts, his gaze suddenly pointed at the ceiling before he squeezes his eyes shut altogether, quietly desperate moans interspersed with his ragged breaths. his hands twitch, digging into the hard floor. could he — zoro had touched him, so why not? his fingers reach for mossy hair, surprised at the softness, trailing down to his nape and back up in a gentle stroke. he touches his earrings, a quiet tinkle in the air, one fingertip toying with his jewelry. there's something so unbearably tender about it that sanji feels a rush of heat spring to his eyes, horrified by his reaction. but he hasn't had — anything like this in so long. hasn't allowed it. anything tenderhearted or warm, any small kindness earned him a broken bone or a black eye.
his pleasure mounts. he won't last long at all, not with the way zoro's working him over. his hips cant upward, the heat of his desire compounding with the sudden swell of grief in his chest, his lips parting with a broken gasp. zoro's name.
he shudders, spilling hot and wet, sliding his wrist over his face to cover the tears leaking from his eyes and wetting his cheeks. his thighs clamp tight around zoro, tremors wracking his body as his cock softens, his desperate panting loud in the quiet room. ]
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spit. oh. he might have thought to do that. where he expects zoro to devour his cock, he has a different technique altogether, one that has his balls tightening and molten heat pooling deep in his belly. fuck. fuck. zoro is ten times better than he is, a thought that rankles even as he commits his motions to memory, both for educational purposes and for when he's alone.
it's too good. his back hits the floor despite his best efforts, his gaze suddenly pointed at the ceiling before he squeezes his eyes shut altogether, quietly desperate moans interspersed with his ragged breaths. his hands twitch, digging into the hard floor. could he — zoro had touched him, so why not? his fingers reach for mossy hair, surprised at the softness, trailing down to his nape and back up in a gentle stroke. he touches his earrings, a quiet tinkle in the air, one fingertip toying with his jewelry. there's something so unbearably tender about it that sanji feels a rush of heat spring to his eyes, horrified by his reaction. but he hasn't had — anything like this in so long. hasn't allowed it. anything tenderhearted or warm, any small kindness earned him a broken bone or a black eye.
his pleasure mounts. he won't last long at all, not with the way zoro's working him over. his hips cant upward, the heat of his desire compounding with the sudden swell of grief in his chest, his lips parting with a broken gasp. zoro's name.
he shudders, spilling hot and wet, sliding his wrist over his face to cover the tears leaking from his eyes and wetting his cheeks. his thighs clamp tight around zoro, tremors wracking his body as his cock softens, his desperate panting loud in the quiet room. ]