[ there was a very real part of him that wondered if sanji would regret this, blame the kiss on some fleeting impulse – a thought immediately countered by the sharp pinch of teeth, the sting leaving him as breathless as the weight of his realization.
with nami, this made sense. there’d been a lasting thread of respect, to where the transition from offhand flirting to this unabashed physicality felt like the natural step – but he never knew where he stood with the cook. the man wasn’t subtle in his preferences, and zoro knew damned well he didn’t meet any of them. he’d told himself he didn’t give a shit. that it wouldn’t have mattered if he’d shoved him away, even as his fingers curled that little bit tighter into his collar, the only small point of control left to him.
it sure as hell wasn’t the heat of his mouth that cracked that last bastion of restraint, nor the taste that was so distinctly sanji, laced with nami’s still clinging to his lips. it didn’t mean a damned thing, even though it did.
at the light pull of the cook’s withdrawal, zoro released his hold, instead drawing his hand back to graze a thumb over his lip, tracing over where he’d nipped him earlier. the heat thrumming through his veins left him feeling drunk, head swimming, yet still acutely aware of nami’s wandering hand, growing bolder in her exploration.
fuck.
the flat look came slightly delayed, belatedly shot back in response to the pull at his haramaki. he played it off with a half-quirk of his brow and a roll of his eyes – although it was undercut by the lingering flush of his face. ]
Liked you better when you weren’t talking.
[ the words lacked teeth, voice rough with his own desire. he’d have argued endlessly that it had nothing to do with the idiot’s direction, and that he was already about to unstrap the harness from his hip, propping the swords up against the wall and out of the way. the haramaki was tossed down with them, deft hands working on his shirt without looking-
the sight of sanji, still half-dressed, lips pressed to her throat, had snatched his full attention.
it took several seconds before he caught himself, that edge of jealousy he’d felt the first time had sharpened into a more dangerous sort of want, no longer tempered by the pressing fear of rejection. yet, he couldn’t force himself to look away either – not with the way she moved beneath his touch, the shudder of her breath as he teased over her nipple. his fingers twitched their own response, paused on the band of his pants, front stretched tight over his swollen cock. ]
Still overdressed.
[ the only thing spoiling the view was the fact that sanji was still clothed, and zoro was too fucking stubborn in his pride to fully give in first. then, it hadn't stopped him from kicking off his boots in the meantime, pointedly noisy in doing so. ]
no subject
with nami, this made sense. there’d been a lasting thread of respect, to where the transition from offhand flirting to this unabashed physicality felt like the natural step – but he never knew where he stood with the cook. the man wasn’t subtle in his preferences, and zoro knew damned well he didn’t meet any of them. he’d told himself he didn’t give a shit. that it wouldn’t have mattered if he’d shoved him away, even as his fingers curled that little bit tighter into his collar, the only small point of control left to him.
it sure as hell wasn’t the heat of his mouth that cracked that last bastion of restraint, nor the taste that was so distinctly sanji, laced with nami’s still clinging to his lips. it didn’t mean a damned thing, even though it did.
at the light pull of the cook’s withdrawal, zoro released his hold, instead drawing his hand back to graze a thumb over his lip, tracing over where he’d nipped him earlier. the heat thrumming through his veins left him feeling drunk, head swimming, yet still acutely aware of nami’s wandering hand, growing bolder in her exploration.
fuck.
the flat look came slightly delayed, belatedly shot back in response to the pull at his haramaki. he played it off with a half-quirk of his brow and a roll of his eyes – although it was undercut by the lingering flush of his face. ]
Liked you better when you weren’t talking.
[ the words lacked teeth, voice rough with his own desire. he’d have argued endlessly that it had nothing to do with the idiot’s direction, and that he was already about to unstrap the harness from his hip, propping the swords up against the wall and out of the way. the haramaki was tossed down with them, deft hands working on his shirt without looking-
the sight of sanji, still half-dressed, lips pressed to her throat, had snatched his full attention.
it took several seconds before he caught himself, that edge of jealousy he’d felt the first time had sharpened into a more dangerous sort of want, no longer tempered by the pressing fear of rejection. yet, he couldn’t force himself to look away either – not with the way she moved beneath his touch, the shudder of her breath as he teased over her nipple. his fingers twitched their own response, paused on the band of his pants, front stretched tight over his swollen cock. ]
Still overdressed.
[ the only thing spoiling the view was the fact that sanji was still clothed, and zoro was too fucking stubborn in his pride to fully give in first. then, it hadn't stopped him from kicking off his boots in the meantime, pointedly noisy in doing so. ]