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The night is calm and crisp, with just the perfect amount of bite to the air that sends pleasant shivers along Sanji’s skin each time the breeze crosses through the open windows of the crow’s nest. He exhales a stream of smoke and watches the way the full moon glints off the still waters they’re sailing through.
It’s a rare thing these days, this level of peace.
“I wanna meet her.”
Sanji pauses with his cigarette up to his lips, but not quite touching. His gaze moves back towards Zoro sitting beside him, that steady, dark eye also focused out toward the vast expanse of ocean. He’d almost thought the man had fallen asleep, the companionable silence between them had been so encompassing.
Finally, he takes another drag and asks, “Meet who?”
Zoro’s eye meets his own. He tips the bottle of beer he’s been nursing back, throat working as he swallows, and lets out a hearty belch that has Sanji’s nose crinkling. “Candy,” he replies, and Sanji blinks once in confusion before the meaning sets in and he feels his cheeks warm.
“Oh.”
After Wano, things between them had shifted—finally settling into what Sanji had always wondered if they’d been heading to all this time. There had been something there at the start, but it had taken Zoro almost dying at Thriller Bark, two years of separation and growth, Sanji facing his birth family, and then ultimately putting his life in Zoro’s capable hands to see them here: together, two equals with dreams they’re willing to die for and a captain they’ll see to the top no matter what, and finally ready to admit they’ll never be able to do it alone.
Vulnerability is certainly neither of their strong suits, but if they can’t trust each other with the little things, then who can they trust? It’s been a slow, careful process since they left Wano, heading on towards their next adventure—learning each other beyond their capabilities as members of the Straw Hat Pirates, as simply Sanji and Zoro.
Sanji had been pleasantly tipsy the night he told Zoro about Candy. About his two years in absolute hell that really hadn’t been all that bad, if he was being truthful with himself. He’d learned a lot during that time about many things, but it’s the things he’d learned about himself and what he wanted that he shared with Zoro, the things he’d always been too afraid to admit even in his own head.
Like how, sometimes, the weight of the expectations of the kind of man he thinks he needs to be, should be, is so heavy all he wants is to put it down.
Like how, sometimes, he wants to be her, just for a little bit, just long enough to be held gently and treated tenderly and not be judged for desiring that kind of softness, because men aren’t meant to be soft.
Zoro had called bullshit, of course, and told him that even if that was true, they’re pirates, and pirates take what they want, when they want, and if Sanji wanted to be held gently and treated tenderly and given softness even as a man, then he’d give him as much softness as a demon like him was capable of. Sanji had swooned drunkenly and teased him mercilessly, but he’d been touched all the same, appreciative of the reciprocated effort because they’re a team now, in every way that matters.
He’d thought that was the end of it, but apparently his stoic mosshead has been thinking about it ever since. Sanji puffs on his cigarette twice more before putting it out, spent, and considers whether to light another or not.
He’s not against the idea of introducing his lover to this part of him—wants so badly to share this side of himself with someone he cares for and be accepted for it that it makes him sick sometimes—but the idea of actually doing it, of facing Zoro as Candy, as a woman instead of a man...
“You sure?” he finally asks, giving in and pulling another stick from the pack in his pocket. He tries to keep his tone light as he adds, “Didn’t think you were into women.”
Zoro’s mouth curls up and he sets his beer bottle aside, no doubt empty by now. “I’m into you, Curls. However you dress, whatever name you wanna go by. She’s important to you, so she’s important to me.”
Sanji is not going to cry, dammit! The click of his lighter is almost deafening in the quietude and he blinks back the sting that’s suddenly behind his eyes. “That is the most disgustingly sappy thing I think I’ve ever heard you say,” he says, voice rough with emotion. “Who are you and what have you done with my barbaric mosshead who can’t string more than two words together?”
It earns him a bark of a laugh, and Zoro leans forward to flick him on the head, right between his eyes. Sanji scowls but doesn’t get to do anything more before his mouth is covered with another, Zoro’s tongue pushing between his lips to lick into him with fervor. He hums into it easily, letting go of whatever irritation had briefly sparked, and lets himself be kissed until they both run out of air.
“I wanna know all sides of you, Curls,” Zoro murmurs against his cheek once they part for breath. “Even her. If you want me to.”
Sanji inhales sharply, leaning their heads together. “I do want you to,” he admits quietly. “It... It would mean a lot to me, actually.”
“Then I’d love to meet her,” Zoro says simply. He presses a kiss to Sanji’s temple. “In your own time, though. I’m in no hurry.”
But Sanji doesn’t want to put it off longer than necessary. Their next adventure is just around the corner, and they never know just how much time they’ll have before the next time they’re separated for one reason or another. He wants to show Zoro this side of himself before they lose the chance completely.
“I’ll plan something,” he says, leaning back and bringing his cigarette up to his lips. “We can do a date night or something. Get a room somewhere. I think that’d be nice.”
“A real bed in a private room all to ourselves?” Zoro asks hopefully, and Sanji snorts at his enthusiasm. Like a dog with a bone, his sweet mosshead.
“Yeah, Mossy. I’ll see what I can do.”
The date night doesn’t happen right away. Zoro figured it wouldn’t—most of the stops they make don’t take more than a few hours, and something like this needs a full overnight at least. He’s a patient man, and he’d meant it when he told Sanji in his own time.
Still. He can’t say there isn’t anticipation gently burning in his veins, this need to know this new side of his curly-browed menace.
He perks up the day they pull into port on some nowhere island he doesn’t bother learning the name of when Nami announces that it’ll be a solid three days for the logpose to set. It’s been maybe a month since that late night conversation, and Zoro is eager to see what the cook has planned for them. The last brief stopover they made he’d watched Sanji come back to the Sunny with more than just grocery bags, but his favorite idiot hadn’t let him see what was in them—had merely winked that pretty blue eye and blown a heart-shaped smoke ring in his face as he’d talked about virtues and told him to keep using his imagination for now.
He’s admittedly excited to find out if what he’s picturing is anything close to reality.
Luckily, neither of them pull the short straw for Sunny babysitting duty, and they’re both free to spend the night on the island after the witch divvies out their allowances, though Zoro’s cut of beri somehow ends up in Sanji’s pocket.
“Oi. That’s my booze money,” he gripes, just for the sake of it.
Sanji, the bastard, merely grins at him and slips his arm around Zoro’s. “And it will be buying you whatever liver-killing concoction you want, Mossy, but in moderation this time. Don’t want you blowing it all before we’ve even had our fun tonight.”
Heat stirs low in his belly at the words. “Date night tonight, then?”
“Date night tonight,” Sanji confirms. His nose scrunches as he glances over to give Zoro a short up-and-down. “Which means you will be bathing if you know what’s good for you.”
“I took a bath two days ago!”
“And you will be taking one again tonight if you want any hope of me spreading my legs for you.”
Zoro considers this as they meander through the market his prissy other half has managed to unerringly lead them to. “Do I have to take one if you’re the one crawling between my legs?”
The kick to his ankle is anticipated, though not entirely avoided. “Yes, Moss,” Sanji huffs with an eye roll. “Bathing is non-negotiable tonight if you want sex in any capacity.”
“Damn.”
He’s stuck, though, on the idea of Sanji—of Candy fucking him. He hasn’t seen whatever outfit the cook has put together for their date, but the image of him in a form-fitting dress that hugs all his curves, pulled up just enough to let his cock slip out from under it as he bends Zoro over the nearest surface has his own dick twitching in interest, the heat in his belly swirling low and heavy.
They spend the early afternoon familiarizing themselves with the lay of the land, Sanji mapping out the market and what stalls and stores he wants to revisit in the next couple days, as well as asking around about local hidden gems good for an evening out with a significant other. The vendors are more than happy to talk up their little town as he lays on the charm, and Zoro contents himself with simply being in the cook’s presence, letting his enthusiasm wash around him and buoy his own.
It’s nice, not arguing every single second of the day, though he enjoys that a hell of a lot. Riling up his twirly-browed moron is definitely up there in his favorite pastimes. Nothing beats the rush of a finely barbed back and forth leading to a blood-pumping, adrenaline-inducing spar across the deck of the Sunny.
But being able to just be like this, arm in arm and meandering like any other couple in love, has taken up a place in his heart that he hadn’t known was craving to be filled.
Once Sanji deems it suitably late enough, he herds them back to the ship to get ready. Zoro lets himself be pushed into the bath without too much fuss to scrub up and then manfully refrains from bitching about the pair of slacks and the button up shirt the cook has laid out for him to put on after. He thinks about what Sanji-as-Candy might be wearing tonight and figures a night in nice clothes might not be that terrible.
Sanji takes three times as long to get ready. Zoro distracts himself by meditating through most of it, breathing in and out deeply and slowly as he lets the excitement and anticipation wash through him, eager to see where the night goes.
“Alright, Moss, let’s go.”
It’s Sanji’s voice, but not at the same time. It’s pitched higher, he thinks, even if it does carry the same hazy rasp he’s become so attuned to, and the words are spoken much more softly than Zoro is used to hearing from his favorite spitfire cook. He opens his eyes as heel clicks approach him, and he isn’t ashamed to say his breath physically catches at the sight before him.
The first thing that catches his eye is the long hair. The blond wig is the exact summery shade of sunshine he’s come to know and love, but now it hangs down to Sanji’s—to Candy’s waist in thick waves, curling ever so slightly at the ends. Her bangs still cover one pretty blue eye as always, and the visible one pops with the makeup she’s wearing. Her lips are a deep wine red to match her knee-length cocktail dress, which is just as form-fitting as the one in his imagination, slit up the side to expose her mile-long legs.
She strides up to him with confident steps, and Zoro feels in a trance as he reaches out to curve a hand around her waist, feeling the silky, satiny fabric of the dress as he takes her in. The usually carefully trimmed goatee is gone, her jaw shaved smooth, and when his eye roams the rest of her, he’s almost surprised to find her legs just as bare as well.
“Well?” she asks, and he can hear the nervousness in her tone under the forced lightness. “Ready to go, my sword-wielding barbarian?”
Zoro eventually finds his words, pushing them off his tongue that feels stuck to the roof of his mouth with need and hunger and desire. “Sure, pretty thing. Lead the way.”
Her cheeks flush a pretty pink at the nickname and he tucks that knowledge away. She tosses her head, lips curled up at the corners, and slips their arms together, pressing into his side. “Only so you don’t get lost.”
“I don’t get lost,” he denies reflexively. “I’m always where I need to be.”
That, of course, sets off a pleasant argument about his innate sense of direction—or lack thereof, according to her—as they make their way back into town. They pass a little café where Nami and Robin have stopped for dinner, and each of the girls wave and give them knowing smiles but ultimately leave them be.
Zoro takes note of that. “The girls know about you.”
Candy pauses in her diatribe, going quiet. “Yes,” she finally says.
“But not the rest of the crew?”
“No,” she admits. “I’m not... ready for that yet.” She huffs a little laugh. “None of them can keep a secret to save their lives.”
“But you wanted me to know?”
“Unfortunately, to my great shame and embarrassment, I’m in love with you,” she says, this time breezily. Easily. Comfortably. “Which means, gods help me, I want to tell you things I don’t tell anyone else.”
That twists something in his chest, a soft, fluttery thing he didn’t know was there. He’s special to her, he realizes. Like, actually special. The same way she’s special to him—how Sanji in general is special to him and always has been, even when he didn’t know what the feelings bubbling up inside him had meant.
They enter the restaurant she’d picked out earlier and are shown to their table. The waiter takes their drink orders and then leaves them to look over the menu.
“Sappy love-cook,” he finally says, a grin curling up his mouth as fondness and affection for her are fit to burst from him. “How embarrassing for you.”
Her foot connects with his shin under the table. He keeps grinning even as pain throbs up his leg because she never holds back. “You’re embarrassing for me,” she grits out, propping her chin in her hand. “Can’t believe I’m into you, what with your lack of basic hygiene routine and your uncanny ability to find everywhere you shouldn’t be at any given time.”
“You wouldn’t know what to do if you didn’t have something to bitch about,” he shoots back with a smirk. “You’d get bored, Curls. Admit it.”
Her nose scrunches, and Zoro feels the pressing urge to lean across the table and kiss her. “I admit nothing of the sort.”
He laughs. “We can always break up if it pains you that much.”
He doesn’t mean it. Of course he doesn’t. They’ve only just decided to try being them, he’s not letting this infuriating, pain in the ass, beautiful creature out of his sight again, now or ever. Knowing this doesn’t make the lightning-quick way her foot hooks around his and her hand snakes over to grip onto his arm, fingers digging into him, any less surprising. He blinks at her.
“No,” she says, decisively calm but firm, blue eye blazing with that passionate fire that never fails to draw him in, to remind him why this is his person, “we can’t. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me for life, Mossy.”
He twists his arm so he can slip his hand into hers, threading their fingers together and squeezing—gently, because these are her treasures, and he’d never offend her by hurting something she holds so dear.
“Literally nothing would make me happier,” he tells her seriously. “Now, are you gonna pick something off the menu for me, sweet thing, or am I gonna have to embarrass you some more?”
She clicks her tongue as she leans back, but their hands stay clasped over the table. Her cheeks are pink again. “I will be ordering for both of us, thank you very much,” she says primly, looking down her nose at him. Her gaze is warm and full of sparkling mischief. “Seeing as I know what you like better than you do.”
As if on cue, the waiter returns with their drinks and politely asks if they’re ready to order. Zoro hides his smirk in his sip of beer while she rattles off the dishes she’s settled on, the words going in one ear and out the other because his full trust in her ability to pick something he’d like has been with her from day one.
The waiter notes it all down and leaves again, and they fall into a peaceful quiet, surrounded by the gentle chatter of the other patrons. Candy sips at her wine, and Zoro thinks the dark polish on her nails looks nice against the crystal glass.
He thinks it’ll look even better scratching up his skin.
“You look good,” he says, breaking the silence between them. He gestures at her when she quirks a curly eyebrow at him. “The dress is pretty. New?”
“Mossman making appropriate date small talk?” she teases. Once again, her cheeks flush ever so prettily, and he can tell she appreciates the flattery. “Color me surprised. But yeah, it’s new. Nami helped me pick it out on the last stop we made. Figured you might be into it.”
The way she leans forward, giving him a teasing peek at her cleavage, tells him exactly what Nami suggested he might be into.
Zoro takes another sip of his beer and feels his own face going hot. “The witch was right.”
She rolls her eyes but, for once, doesn’t comment on his nickname for their navigator. She just grins at him and raises her wine glass. “Nami dearest always is.”
Conversation flows easily between them as their food eventually arrives. Zoro finds that Candy had ordered him a fish dish of some sort, while she herself ordered a pasta dish. More wine is poured for them to go with their meals, and the waiter saunters off as they dig in.
It’s alright. Better than he’s had a lot of places, but still nothing in comparison to what their cook makes on the regular during their sailing. Zoro eats it all, of course. Sanji would have his balls if he didn’t, and Candy’s nails seem just that much sharper tonight, filed and lovely and definitely able to do some damage if she so chooses.
As the end of their dinner grows nearer, he can feel the anticipation for the rest of the night ratcheting up. They’ve traded light bickering and normal small talk as they ate, but now the quiet has settled in again, and their gazes are heated as they watch each other from across the table. Candy’s lipstick stains her wine glass as she finishes it off and Zoro’s veins burn with simmering want for her to mark his collar up with it, to leave a ring of it around his cock while she’s on her knees for him.
Truly, he hadn’t expected to be this into her. He’d wanted to know all of Sanji’s sides, but watching Candy give him bedroom eyes through her bangs, twirling her long hair around her fingers and biting her lower lip coquettishly as she bats her long, dark lashes at him and the thin strap of her dress starts slipping down her arm, he’s surprised by how much the thought of being with her turns him on.
Part of it is because he knows this is the same person who has been by his side all this time, his equal in all aspects, the hot-headed bastard of a cook he’d fallen for without even realizing it until he was already on his ass.
But Candy is also different, gentle and relaxed with him in a way Sanji has only recently started letting himself be, giggly and flirtatious the way the love cook usually only is with women. It’s new, but not bad, nor unwanted.
Definitely not unwanted.
The check comes shortly, and Candy sets most of Zoro’s allowance on the table to cover the bill. “Only proper that the man pays on the first date,” she tells him as they stand to leave, her arm wrapping around his own once again, and he doesn’t argue it.
He’s too excited for what’s coming next to bother.
A crisp breeze greets them as they step out into the darkening evening, the streets still bustling as the afternoon shopping crowd turns into the lively nightlife. Zoro takes a deep breath of the air and readjusts his dick as subtly as he can where it’s pressing against his fly, already half-hard at the thought of where this date will take them.
The perverted woman beside him, of course, notices anyway. “Eager much, Mossy?” she purrs into his ear, one of her hands dropping behind him to grope his ass.
“Maybe I am,” he shoots back, unashamed despite the flush he can feel in his face. “My date’s hot as fuck and I’d like to see what’s under her dress.”
She laughs. “You think I’ve got a surprise on under it?”
“A man can dream.”
The walk to the inn does nothing to curb his desire, nor does his erection wane even a little. His only consolation is that Candy carries her purse in such a way that it covers her own crotch, and he smirks at the realization that she’s as hard as he is. That she’s as into tonight as he is.
Fuck, he needs her in his arms yesterday.
Getting checked in and handed a room key is practically a blur in his mind. All he can focus on is the sway of her hips as he follows her up a set of stairs and down a short hallway, his hands landing on her waist as she slots the key in the lock and opens the door. A breathless laugh meets his mouth as they stumble into the room, her heel kicking it closed behind them as he finally, finally presses against her, stealing her lips in a deep, demanding kiss right from the start.
“Horny mossman,” she teases him, dropping her purse and wrapping her arms around his shoulders to hold him close. She brings her mouth to his ear, taking his lobe between her teeth and tugging gently before nipping. “How do you want me tonight?”
Her leg hitches up over his hip, pressing their erections together and earning a moan from him. “On my knees as I worship your cock with my throat? Under you with my legs spread like your personal whore?”
His fantasy from earlier resurfaces and he can’t stop himself from blurting, “Want you to fuck me with the dress on.”
She pauses at that, leaning back to look him in the eye with her brows raised incredulously. “What?”
“Fuck me,” he reiterates, staring her down seriously. “And keep the dress on.”
A beat passes, and then Zoro watches a thin line of red start trailing from her nose.
“You kinky bastard,” she huffs, shaking her head with a wide, amused smile. “And you call me a pervert.”
She tugs him close again, mouths smashing together, her nails digging into his scalp as she pulls his hair. He groans for her, eyes closing at the jolt of pain going down his spine that pools as pleasure in his groin, his hands gripping her hips proprietorally. He rolls his hips into hers, their cocks dragging together through the fabric of their clothes, and suddenly he thinks they’re wearing way too many layers.
He’s wearing too many layers, that is.
“You’re into it,” he breathes against her, shuffling her backwards towards the bed taking up most of the space in the small, quaint room. He makes no move to stop her as her hands leave his shoulders to run over his chest, her slender fingers going to the buttons on his shirt to undo them and push it off him before moving down to his pants.
Her head tips back as he moves from her mouth to her neck, sucking a dark bruise into her pulse point, and the moan that leaves her is deep and guttural when one of his hands slips into the slit of her dress, caressing up her thigh until he finds her cock, pausing at the feeling of delicate fabric over the hot length.
“Curls,” he murmurs, pulling back to pin her under his heated, hungry gaze. “Are you wearing panties for me?”
She pants against him, lips curling up in a knowing smirk. “Wouldn’t you like to know, mossball.”
Before he can find a comeback, a foot is hooked around his ankle, and Zoro finds himself swung around and falling back onto the bed with a hearty shove from the woman in front of him. The look in her blue eye is ravenous as she gazes down at him, her dress tented at her hips from her erection while his own strains up into the air from his open fly, already wet with precome.
“Take your pants off, Moss,” she instructs, voice husky with her want. Her precious hands hover around her waist, like she wants to touch herself but is holding back. “And get on your knees.”
He’s too keyed up with his own arousal to fight her order. His pants hit the floor as she turns away to find her purse, and he rolls onto his knees in a smooth movement as she digs through it and then pulls out a familiar bottle of lube, about half empty already from their frequent use of it.
(Her suggestion of being his ‘personal whore’ has stuck with him, and Zoro is determined to end up between her legs at least once before they’re back on the Sunny, where privacy is a lost art.)
His hand is on his cock without him even realizing it, and he has to force himself to move it away as she steps up behind him, the heat from her body kissing the backs of his thighs. Her hands land on his hips, caressing over his skin and up the muscles in his back. He hums at the soft touch of her fingertips as she traces his shoulderblades, then back down his spine, before teasing them between his asscheeks.
“C’mon, pretty thing,” he goads her, looking over his shoulder. “Get those pretty fingers in me.”
She moans for him as she uncaps the lube and pours it over her hand. “Fuck, you’re so good for me,” she tells him, blue eye dark as she looks at him. “You want my cock that much?”
She tugs up the hem of her dress until he can see the delicate white lace of lingerie already soaked through with her own precome, the panties straining around the hard length of her dick. It makes his mouth water, wanting to feel the weight of it against his tongue, get the taste of her on his lips as he brings her to pleasure.
Later, maybe.
“You know I do,” he croaks back, voice shot to hell with his arousal. His own dick pulses with need, twitching where it hangs hot and heavy between his legs. “Wanna feel you fillin’ me up.”
He moans again when, finally, she presses her fingers to his hole, circling it coyly before pressing two in simultaneously, the sudden stretch painful but so good. His hips rock back against her on instinct, wanting her as deep as he can get her to reach that spot in him that makes him see stars.
“Fuck, sweetheart, that’s it,” he groans, eye slipping closed at the pleasure that sparks up his spine when she nails his prostate several times in a row. “Get me nice and loose for you. Gonna take that pretty cock of yours so nice.”
Her voice is ragged as she says, “You say the sweetest things, handsome,” and pets up his back while she slips in a third finger, his hole clenching around them like he doesn’t want them to ever pull out.
Eventually, she does, though. His cock aches where it’s leaking onto the sheets below him, his hands twisted in the bedding to keep from stroking himself to completion before she’s even inside him—he wants to come on her cock tonight while she fills him up. He feels empty for all of a moment before the head of her dick presses against him, and he has to glance over his shoulder to see her as she pushes in.
Her hair falls over her shoulders in messy waves, damp at her temples, flyaway strands sticking to her flushed face and her teeth biting her lower lip white. The straps of her dress have slipped to her elbows, the satiny fabric sliding down her chest and giving him a glorious shot of her cute little tits while the skirt is pulled aside at the slit, and the image of her still fully dressed with just her cock pulled out of the side of her panties, while he’s fully naked and bared before her, ass up in the air, has him nearly seeing stars with how hot it is.
Maybe he really is a pervert.
He doesn’t get a lot of time to dwell on it, because just as he’s fighting the urge to stroke himself yet again at the image in his mind of what they both must look like from the outside, Candy takes that moment to finally, finally push her cock into him, in a slow and steady drive that has him moaning long and loud, his thighs shaking at just how full he is, how good it feels to have her inside him.
“Fuck, Mossy, shit shit shit—” She’s moaning, too, so overcome her voice has dropped closer to the register he knows as Sanji. Her nails dig into his waist before she moves her hands up over his back again, scratching lines into him as she settles nice and deep, just where he likes it.
The sensation of her dress brushing up against him as she starts up a rhythm, grinding into him with slow, deep rolls of her hips is exactly what he’d imagined. He can’t help but moan each time her hips meet his ass, the satin cushioning between them as her dick brushes over his prostate. The pace picks up the longer she’s at it, and he throws his own hips back into each of her thrusts as she goes from deep grinds to quick, short snaps that rub her length against all his good places. He’s not going to last long, but that isn’t really the point of tonight, anyway.
They can talk about a marathon night some other time.
“Just like that, babygirl,” he pants, finally allowing himself to stroke his own cock, matching her rhythm. The sound of the skin slapping mixes with their grunts and moans, filling the room alongside the scent of sex. “Fuck me so good, pretty thing. Gonna make me come.”
“Moss,” she whines, and he smiles breathlessly as she leans over him, her lips warm against his skin as she sucks marks into his shoulders. Her thrusts begin to stutter, and he knows she’s as close as he is. “Feel so good around me—”
“Gonna come in me, right, babygirl?”
“Yes! Yes, yes—oh, yes!”
Feeling his partner come inside him is one of the greatest pleasures that Zoro knows. He strips his cock as Candy’s voice climbs even higher as she peaks, and then a deep, low moan resonates from his chest as he feels the warmth of her come fill him, her hips pressed tight against his ass as she shakes from her euphoria.
He’s on the brink himself when her hand slips beneath him, batting his hand out of the way to jerk him herself, her lovely fingers tugging on the head just so to send him over the cliff of orgasm right behind her.
They catch their breaths together, her cock still inside him while she softens, and he relaxes into the mattress, stretching his fingers out on the hand that had been gripping the sheets hard enough to nearly tear them.
Eventually, her cock slips out of him, and Zoro immediately rolls onto his back to catch her as she falls forward onto him, knowing she’ll want to cuddle in the circle of his arms—because that’s Sanji’s preferred aftercare space.
He finds her lips without hesitation as she tips her head up towards him, and one hand tangles through her long hair as he pulls her close while his other hand soothes up and down her back in gentle, rhythmic strokes.
“So good, babydoll,” he murmurs into her mouth, swallowing the whine it earns him. “Pretty thing, you did so well. Fucked me so good. Looked so beautiful in your gorgeous dress tonight. Envy of the town, I just know it.”
It gets him a wet laugh, and he thumbs away the tear that leaks down her cheek. “Sappy mossball,” she chides him sweetly. Her nails scratch his scalp. “Keep sweet talkin’ me like that and I might just spread my legs for you later, after all.”
“Whatever you like, Curls.” He presses a kiss to her temple. “I really liked tonight.”
“Me too,” she agrees softly. Her fingers tangle with his own, and her voice drops low again—back to Sanji. “I’m glad you got to see me like this,” he says quietly, gesturing to the dress and the heels he’s still wearing, the wig and the makeup. “I’m glad I let you.”
“Anytime you wanna bring her out, I’m all for it,” Zoro tells him. “Don’t ever think I don’t want her in my life as much as you. I meant it—she’s important to you, so she’s important to me. I’d love to see her more.”
“I’d like that,” Sanji admits.
They’re quiet for a long while, letting the silence settle around them as their breathing evens out and Zoro feels on the verge of sleep. Before he can slip away, however, Sanji’s smile turns mischievous, and Zoro finds himself on his back as his lover swings a leg over his hips, settling into his lap.
His voice pitches up again, and Candy says, “I did ask if you wanted me to be your personal whore, didn’t I?”
Zoro’s hands settle on her waist. “I’m not opposed to exploring that.”
Her laugh tastes like wine, and the dress stays on.