[ he never wanted to let himself believe that zoro could be anything but a hulking idiot of a man, the same as all the rest — primed for violence and never for thought. he could never be anything like the impossible ideal sanji has been chasing for years now, some made up fantasy free of all the hurt he's endured, something that will fill the cracks in the bones that never quite settled right. something that will magically make him whole and wanted and free.
suddenly it's close. sanji feels swept up in some stupid dream, falling into the kiss like he believes in impossible things again. zoro makes him feel like he isn't a battered piece of shit that should have died twice over now. he realizes that the alarm bells are quieter now, that his fear is less from the threat of pain than the promise of an ending.
because this does have to end. he doesn't know how to prolong it. doesn't know how to be the sort of man that just — changes. his tongue presses at zoro's parted lips, curling in for the briefest of tastes as if he can't get close enough, arching into him when zoro cradles his skull. no one's ever held him so close, so tenderly. he winds his legs around zoro's, a strategic shift of his hips rolling them onto their sides so they're facing each other, still chasing zoro's mouth for the dregs of this kiss before the hand fisted in his shirt pushes him back, keeping their mouths inches apart. sanji's breath comes at a rapid pace, his face flushed and cracked open. he looks anguished, like after everything, all roads still lead back to him simmering in his own pain.
he wants to kiss him again, wants to trace the fullness of his lips and taste what makes him uniquely him. he wants to explore the other parts of him, the cut of his jaw and the slope of his throat down to the jagged scar across his chest. if this ever comes again, he doesn't think it could ever be like this.
he releases zoro's rumpled shirt, untangling himself. wordlessly, he pulls his trousers back up to his hips, zipping himself back in, then reaches into his pocket. with a loud flick of metal, he lights a cigarette, balancing his wrist on his raised knee. somehow he feels more exposed like this despite being dressed again. he scrubs at his eyes again. ]
Tell me when I should go.
[ in a spectacularly shitty move, he'll put that onus on zoro. sanji's the one that came to invade his space, after all. ]
they have no chill
suddenly it's close. sanji feels swept up in some stupid dream, falling into the kiss like he believes in impossible things again. zoro makes him feel like he isn't a battered piece of shit that should have died twice over now. he realizes that the alarm bells are quieter now, that his fear is less from the threat of pain than the promise of an ending.
because this does have to end. he doesn't know how to prolong it. doesn't know how to be the sort of man that just — changes. his tongue presses at zoro's parted lips, curling in for the briefest of tastes as if he can't get close enough, arching into him when zoro cradles his skull. no one's ever held him so close, so tenderly. he winds his legs around zoro's, a strategic shift of his hips rolling them onto their sides so they're facing each other, still chasing zoro's mouth for the dregs of this kiss before the hand fisted in his shirt pushes him back, keeping their mouths inches apart. sanji's breath comes at a rapid pace, his face flushed and cracked open. he looks anguished, like after everything, all roads still lead back to him simmering in his own pain.
he wants to kiss him again, wants to trace the fullness of his lips and taste what makes him uniquely him. he wants to explore the other parts of him, the cut of his jaw and the slope of his throat down to the jagged scar across his chest. if this ever comes again, he doesn't think it could ever be like this.
he releases zoro's rumpled shirt, untangling himself. wordlessly, he pulls his trousers back up to his hips, zipping himself back in, then reaches into his pocket. with a loud flick of metal, he lights a cigarette, balancing his wrist on his raised knee. somehow he feels more exposed like this despite being dressed again. he scrubs at his eyes again. ]
Tell me when I should go.
[ in a spectacularly shitty move, he'll put that onus on zoro. sanji's the one that came to invade his space, after all. ]