[ Try as Sanji might, it’s impossible to avoid the small thrill that comes with every step they take towards the privacy of his suite. He’s not under the insidious effects of his suit mark— at least, he thinks he isn’t— and for all that a piece of him itches to find the nearest secluded area and discreetly tug her into the space to join him in a dance of pleasure and want, he’s not so far gone as that. But still, even with his attention sharpened to a point finer than a needle’s head and concern for her dampening every other emotion, he can’t quite ignore the pleasant prickling of anticipation along his skin, can’t help but idly wonder how she’ll feel and taste and sound once they’re alone, once she’s let him peel off her pretty little dress and use a combination of gentle touches and soft kisses to perform a wicked sort of worship on her and her body.
It’s not helped by the constant awareness he has of her nearness. Heat radiates off her, too, every inch of her warm and inviting, especially where contact is made. Even as his eyes dart from side to side, the constant gentle touch of her hand to the small of his back is equal parts boon and bane, anchoring him in the moment, in this place, with her, while inviting the obvious fantasy: if something so simple, so mundane can feel so pleasant, how would her hand feel in other, more intimate places.
He swallows to keep his imagination in check, but his desire slowly bucks against such restraints, desperate to focus it’s sights on her. That should embarrass him, how brazen his want feels in the moment, but when he thinks back, remembers how she’d look while enraptured by his stories, captivated by his ramblings back home, and the way it had the rest of buzz pleasantly, the wanting feeling so natural that he can’t quite blame himself.
Still, his concern gnaws at him and even that small smile does nothing to assuage it. Even before he’d finished asking the question, it had seemed particularly silly. Was she okay? Of course not. Nobody was ever really okay when their suit fully activated. That Tfia needed relief and pleasure and sex as soon as possible was self-evident, the kind of thing he should’ve known without needing to ask, but— seeing the almost glazed-over look in her eyes, the barely concealed want that sharpens the moment her gaze catches the soft swell of his lips, he decides ask was the right course. She looks away and oh, oh, he sees that flash of shame, that moment where she believes that wanting him the way her body screams at her to is wrong. His heart swells with quiet sympathy— and more, so much more— as he gently reaches across his body and lightly takes hold of her chin, tilting her head to meet the softness of his gaze. ]
Hey, it’s all okay. Whatever you’re thinking, whatever you’re wanting— it’s okay to want those things. I’ll give you whatever you need, lovely, promise. [ He seals it with three kisses— one brushed softly between her eyes, another dotted gently to the tip of her nose, a final pressed firmly against the sweet warmth of her mouth. It’s not the fullness of what she needs, he’s sure, but when faced with a famine, even a heel of bread must seem a feast. In the end, he’s left grinning softly against her mouth, bright eyes peering earnestly into hers. ] Yeah. Yeah, it does. You’re doing so damn good, though. As soon as we’re in the elevator— I can start making you feel good. Okay?
[ And then, a soft sigh escaping his mouth, he resumes walking at a faster clip, a little less concerned with collisions and a little more with getting her somewhere secluded as soon as possible.
If he felt distracted before, it’s worse now, measurably so, the urge to kiss her again growing strong by the moment, to explore the sweet heat of her mouth and claim it with more kisses. It’s not the all consuming lust she feels, he’s certain, not that bone-deep need for pleasure and intimacy and something primally carnal, but all the same, there’s want there for him, too. Even if her suit hadn’t flared, he would have wanted her eventually; Sanji knows himself well enough to admit that, to be able to own up to how lustful he’s capable of being.
And while the distraction does nothing to speed their journey down what feels like an endless hallway, and contemplating whether he’s right or wrong to want her as much as he does also fails to help, it does eventually come to an end. ]
There— [ He breathes as the hallway widens leading into a bank of elevators and lifts up to only a small smattering of the royal suites. Instinct and muscle memory carry his feet to the right one and, with a flick of his wrist it opens with a soft ding. The inside is the same gold and glass theming as most of the elevators in this place, but this one goes one place only and is accessible to him and him alone— and the gorgeous, wonderful woman accompanying him. As soon as the door slides close, his arm falls away from her shoulders, hands shooting up to gently take her face between his palms before his mouth finds hers in a kiss that abandons brevity and lightness for urgency and want. It makes him feel greedy, kissing her so eagerly, thumbs gently stroking the soft slope of her jaw, but he thinks before anything else, they need this.
And when it breaks, he makes a soft sound against her mouth, kissing her again, and again, and then murmuring. ] Gonna make you feel good, Tifa.
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It’s not helped by the constant awareness he has of her nearness. Heat radiates off her, too, every inch of her warm and inviting, especially where contact is made. Even as his eyes dart from side to side, the constant gentle touch of her hand to the small of his back is equal parts boon and bane, anchoring him in the moment, in this place, with her, while inviting the obvious fantasy: if something so simple, so mundane can feel so pleasant, how would her hand feel in other, more intimate places.
He swallows to keep his imagination in check, but his desire slowly bucks against such restraints, desperate to focus it’s sights on her. That should embarrass him, how brazen his want feels in the moment, but when he thinks back, remembers how she’d look while enraptured by his stories, captivated by his ramblings back home, and the way it had the rest of buzz pleasantly, the wanting feeling so natural that he can’t quite blame himself.
Still, his concern gnaws at him and even that small smile does nothing to assuage it. Even before he’d finished asking the question, it had seemed particularly silly. Was she okay? Of course not. Nobody was ever really okay when their suit fully activated. That Tfia needed relief and pleasure and sex as soon as possible was self-evident, the kind of thing he should’ve known without needing to ask, but— seeing the almost glazed-over look in her eyes, the barely concealed want that sharpens the moment her gaze catches the soft swell of his lips, he decides ask was the right course. She looks away and oh, oh, he sees that flash of shame, that moment where she believes that wanting him the way her body screams at her to is wrong. His heart swells with quiet sympathy— and more, so much more— as he gently reaches across his body and lightly takes hold of her chin, tilting her head to meet the softness of his gaze. ]
Hey, it’s all okay. Whatever you’re thinking, whatever you’re wanting— it’s okay to want those things. I’ll give you whatever you need, lovely, promise. [ He seals it with three kisses— one brushed softly between her eyes, another dotted gently to the tip of her nose, a final pressed firmly against the sweet warmth of her mouth. It’s not the fullness of what she needs, he’s sure, but when faced with a famine, even a heel of bread must seem a feast. In the end, he’s left grinning softly against her mouth, bright eyes peering earnestly into hers. ] Yeah. Yeah, it does. You’re doing so damn good, though. As soon as we’re in the elevator— I can start making you feel good. Okay?
[ And then, a soft sigh escaping his mouth, he resumes walking at a faster clip, a little less concerned with collisions and a little more with getting her somewhere secluded as soon as possible.
If he felt distracted before, it’s worse now, measurably so, the urge to kiss her again growing strong by the moment, to explore the sweet heat of her mouth and claim it with more kisses. It’s not the all consuming lust she feels, he’s certain, not that bone-deep need for pleasure and intimacy and something primally carnal, but all the same, there’s want there for him, too. Even if her suit hadn’t flared, he would have wanted her eventually; Sanji knows himself well enough to admit that, to be able to own up to how lustful he’s capable of being.
And while the distraction does nothing to speed their journey down what feels like an endless hallway, and contemplating whether he’s right or wrong to want her as much as he does also fails to help, it does eventually come to an end. ]
There— [ He breathes as the hallway widens leading into a bank of elevators and lifts up to only a small smattering of the royal suites. Instinct and muscle memory carry his feet to the right one and, with a flick of his wrist it opens with a soft ding. The inside is the same gold and glass theming as most of the elevators in this place, but this one goes one place only and is accessible to him and him alone— and the gorgeous, wonderful woman accompanying him. As soon as the door slides close, his arm falls away from her shoulders, hands shooting up to gently take her face between his palms before his mouth finds hers in a kiss that abandons brevity and lightness for urgency and want. It makes him feel greedy, kissing her so eagerly, thumbs gently stroking the soft slope of her jaw, but he thinks before anything else, they need this.
And when it breaks, he makes a soft sound against her mouth, kissing her again, and again, and then murmuring. ] Gonna make you feel good, Tifa.