( the thing is β that it really doesn't feel all that different to be with sanji like this. it's still the same mouth, soft and hungry with less and less restraint as he lets zoro kiss him, the same stubble on his chin that zoro, after all is said and done and they go back to pretending like nothing happened between them, can still feel prickling at his skin. he still clutches zoro like his life depends on it, like he can't decide if he wants to hold him tighter or shove him away.
he's wet and he's tight and there's a part of zoro that can't help but think about his fingers coated with lube, stretching sanji's hole, having him clenching around him like he does now, cock twitching at the thought of just β being inside of him. he exhales sharply, flexing his wrist so his fingers can sink just a little bit deeper, heel of his palm pressing up against his clit as he grinds against him, feeling that hypersoft fur against his skin.
β okay, all the talking is different, something zoro has to actively concentrate on instead of falling into their usual haze of frenzied lust, lips otherwise occupied. each word barely makes sense, more difficult still when sanji rolls him onto his back and straddles him, fingers grabbing hold of his wrist, vicelike.
the question baffles him, would maybe make zoro laugh if they were sharing some shitty homemade wine in the kitchen and not in bed with zoro's fingers buried in sanji's new cunt, overwhelmed by the thought of sanji sinking down onto his cock. instead: ) It's not β ( he starts, fingers crooking habitually inside of him, wanting to feel him tremble around him again. ) I don't give a shit about β all of that. I haven't ever.
( which feels obvious to zoro, at least from the way he lived back in their world, maybe, busy fighting instead of fucking. but it feels obvious here, too, from the first night he and nami and sanji's foreheads touched, his fingers tightening around both of their hands as they healed him through their blood ritual. he thought he had an idea of what it felt like to want someone before, but now it feels all-encompassing, nami's fingers carding through his hair, sanji's fingers fisting into his shirt, desire and desperation all-encompassing. )
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he's wet and he's tight and there's a part of zoro that can't help but think about his fingers coated with lube, stretching sanji's hole, having him clenching around him like he does now, cock twitching at the thought of just β being inside of him. he exhales sharply, flexing his wrist so his fingers can sink just a little bit deeper, heel of his palm pressing up against his clit as he grinds against him, feeling that hypersoft fur against his skin.
β okay, all the talking is different, something zoro has to actively concentrate on instead of falling into their usual haze of frenzied lust, lips otherwise occupied. each word barely makes sense, more difficult still when sanji rolls him onto his back and straddles him, fingers grabbing hold of his wrist, vicelike.
the question baffles him, would maybe make zoro laugh if they were sharing some shitty homemade wine in the kitchen and not in bed with zoro's fingers buried in sanji's new cunt, overwhelmed by the thought of sanji sinking down onto his cock. instead: ) It's not β ( he starts, fingers crooking habitually inside of him, wanting to feel him tremble around him again. ) I don't give a shit about β all of that. I haven't ever.
( which feels obvious to zoro, at least from the way he lived back in their world, maybe, busy fighting instead of fucking. but it feels obvious here, too, from the first night he and nami and sanji's foreheads touched, his fingers tightening around both of their hands as they healed him through their blood ritual. he thought he had an idea of what it felt like to want someone before, but now it feels all-encompassing, nami's fingers carding through his hair, sanji's fingers fisting into his shirt, desire and desperation all-encompassing. )