[ it's a raw, brutal admission, his weakness surging through his flimsy pretenses. for all the times he was — this time there's nothing but painful honesty, both his desire and his need blown out on full display. his gaze flickers upwards, his one eye haunted in the split second he looks at zoro's face, his lips stretched around his fingers, then away.
he pulls back slowly, his tongue dragging along every inch of skin until zoro's wet fingertips rest at the edge of his lips, licked perfectly clean. he's a breath away from begging, his senses frantic, and when he pulls away, he draws his cigarette back to his lips to draw in a quivering breath. this is worse than his vicious desire to kiss zoro, because this hurts in a way that he's been trying to forget for a long time. ]
You need to eat. [ this time his voice is hoarse, the base of his velveteen ears twitching amidst his blond hair. ] You need to get better. I can't — do any of this on my own.
[ zoro doesn't even know. he doesn't know that sanji's connection to nami is gone. that he's so hungry that he hurts. that he feels a single step away from slipping now that he's alone. that he just — wants, and doesn't know what to do with that. ]
Just eat. Please. [ sanji lowers his head, leaning his forward on his knees, his breath unsteady. the room feels like it's going to tip over on its side. ] Zoro... please. The blood —
( he's trembling. he's trembling, and he hates it, reeling at the sight of sanji's tongue licking his fingers clean, jaw clenching as his teeth grit together. it's making him feel fucking crazy — hunger for the meat on the table beside him getting all fucking mixed up with zoro's desire to pull the cook fully onto his lap, mouths crashing together, sharp teeth and the metallic tang of blood on his tongue.
it takes effort for zoro to control his breathing, slow inhales through his nose that really only serve to further fill his senses with deer meat and rabbit. it's a relief, actually, when the herbaceous smoke takes over instead, sanji's weight off of him as he finally pulls away. )
You — ( he starts, but the start of an argument dies on his tongue as the cook continues to practically plead with him to eat. zoro wants to eat, but the hunger lingering in his belly is suddenly sharing space with a deep sense of a worry, too.
i need you. i need you. sanji's voice echoes distantly in his head, and zoro slowly realizes that it's not just some wishful thinking, some product of his imagination. he'd really said that, back when zoro was near-death back in that shitty fucking circus tent. the realization makes his words now hit even harder. it might not be in the same way, but — he needs zoro as much as zoro needs him. ) Okay, I'll — I'll eat.
( his hand is still shaking as he grabs two, three chunks of meat with his fingers, shoving it hastily in his mouth and chewing eagerly before swallowing it down. another taste weakens his resolve even further and zoro ingests another fistful of it before grabbing hastily for the pitcher of blood, forgoing pouring it into a cup in favor of drinking from it directly, near-chugging it because it tastes so fucking good, sates something innate that he hasn't been able to deny since the change. the pitcher is half-empty when he puts it back down on the side table, lips wet and red. )
I can't do this without you either, you know. Once I'm better, you — I'll find a way to fix your wrists. You'd be an even shittier cook without your hands.
( there's no heat behind his words, just an uncertainty that he can't swallow down, promises he's afraid to make. )
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(no subject)
Date: 2024-01-27 12:39 am (UTC)[ it's a raw, brutal admission, his weakness surging through his flimsy pretenses. for all the times he was — this time there's nothing but painful honesty, both his desire and his need blown out on full display. his gaze flickers upwards, his one eye haunted in the split second he looks at zoro's face, his lips stretched around his fingers, then away.
he pulls back slowly, his tongue dragging along every inch of skin until zoro's wet fingertips rest at the edge of his lips, licked perfectly clean. he's a breath away from begging, his senses frantic, and when he pulls away, he draws his cigarette back to his lips to draw in a quivering breath. this is worse than his vicious desire to kiss zoro, because this hurts in a way that he's been trying to forget for a long time. ]
You need to eat. [ this time his voice is hoarse, the base of his velveteen ears twitching amidst his blond hair. ] You need to get better. I can't — do any of this on my own.
[ zoro doesn't even know. he doesn't know that sanji's connection to nami is gone. that he's so hungry that he hurts. that he feels a single step away from slipping now that he's alone. that he just — wants, and doesn't know what to do with that. ]
Just eat. Please. [ sanji lowers his head, leaning his forward on his knees, his breath unsteady. the room feels like it's going to tip over on its side. ] Zoro... please. The blood —
(no subject)
Date: 2024-01-29 02:54 am (UTC)it takes effort for zoro to control his breathing, slow inhales through his nose that really only serve to further fill his senses with deer meat and rabbit. it's a relief, actually, when the herbaceous smoke takes over instead, sanji's weight off of him as he finally pulls away. )
You — ( he starts, but the start of an argument dies on his tongue as the cook continues to practically plead with him to eat. zoro wants to eat, but the hunger lingering in his belly is suddenly sharing space with a deep sense of a worry, too.
i need you. i need you. sanji's voice echoes distantly in his head, and zoro slowly realizes that it's not just some wishful thinking, some product of his imagination. he'd really said that, back when zoro was near-death back in that shitty fucking circus tent. the realization makes his words now hit even harder. it might not be in the same way, but — he needs zoro as much as zoro needs him. ) Okay, I'll — I'll eat.
( his hand is still shaking as he grabs two, three chunks of meat with his fingers, shoving it hastily in his mouth and chewing eagerly before swallowing it down. another taste weakens his resolve even further and zoro ingests another fistful of it before grabbing hastily for the pitcher of blood, forgoing pouring it into a cup in favor of drinking from it directly, near-chugging it because it tastes so fucking good, sates something innate that he hasn't been able to deny since the change. the pitcher is half-empty when he puts it back down on the side table, lips wet and red. )
I can't do this without you either, you know. Once I'm better, you — I'll find a way to fix your wrists. You'd be an even shittier cook without your hands.
( there's no heat behind his words, just an uncertainty that he can't swallow down, promises he's afraid to make. )