s a n j i (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
chiffonades) wrote2024-09-01 11:03 pm
chiffonades) wrote2024-09-01 11:03 pminbox for golden peacock
@sanji
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chiffonades) wrote2024-09-01 11:03 pm
perfect!!
And it gives him time to think, to dwell on the feeling of prickling along his skin and the slightest twist in his gut. He’s not nervous, really. Their last encounter had been a little odd— walking in on someone showering and being bombarded with those feelings of uncertainty and mild discomfort definitely counted as odd— but it’s not enough to leave him feeling anything more than lightly eager to make a better impression this time. It’s never a stretch to say that Sanji likes a woman, because he fundamentally likes each and every one of them, but there’s something about the way Tifa carried herself— calm despite the awkwardness, playful despite her frigid reception to his initial attempts flirting, curious and thoughtful despite how new and overwhelming this place must have been— that’s maybe endeared her to him just that fractional bit more.
Arriving at the Red Cardinal leaves him no more time to dwell on anything. It’s one of his favorite spots in the whole casino because it’s safe and close at hand and it looks so damn classy without being gaudy like so much of the resort is. It’s not busy this time of night, only a small handful of guests sitting at the booths and the bars on stools.
It takes him next to no time to find her. She looks gorgeous in that black dress— and, damn, he’s just grateful to be able to look at her while they talk this time— but that’s not what he’s there for. Quietly, he slides into one of the high stools next to her, head turned so his bright eyes are carefully watching her as he greets her. ]
Beautiful, yeah? [ His lips curl into a grin as beaming as the moon on a clear night sky as he gives her a little wave and a quiet laugh. ] This place, I mean, with all its well-made furniture and perfectly crafted decorations. It’s less fancy than other bars, but it just works, you know? And works well. [ A pause as his grins widens and, unable to help himself, he sneaks a quick compliment in. ] Though your dress is gorgeous too. Suits you.
[ For all his energy, though, his voice softens a moment later, as if not wanting to be overheard, for no other reason than to give them a moment of privacy while checks on her. ] You, uh, doing okay? I know this shitty resort is a lot to take in at once. And you didn’t seem to especially care for the House’s latest little game.
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Yeah, it really is, actually. It doesn't even need to be so fancy, it's probably just the right amount of elegance and comfort. Good for anyone to feel welcome, you know? [ she gives a small light shrug with a single bare shoulder, managing a brighter smile his way, still halfway caught in her nerves but relaxed enough by the soothing effect of the environment.
when he draws attention to her dress, her cheeks catch a brief pink, eyes peering away briefly but maintaining her smile. ]
Oh, thanks. It was pretty much the only thing in that closet I would wear. [ looking back at him, she holds out her hand to gesture to him in turn, giving a small light-hearted chuckle. ] But, hey, you're pretty snazzy yourself in that suit. You dress well. Didn't exactly get a chance to pick up on it before.
[ with him being naked behind her and all. it's why it's now that she's able to really give him a glance, capturing details she hadn't even known he had for lack of a chance of study, from the way those blond light strands fall over his eyes that carry such a soft blue that it almost appears gray, like a clearing of darkened clouds just after a heavy rain before it begins to part for the sun again. she can see now why charm comes as easy to him as it does, his face the kind of handsome that pairs so naturally with the words that slip from him with ease. even the way he wears his suit, something she's never really found too appealing with all that she's used to seeing it on company men or the turks, is worn like his body was naturally made for it.
it's just a passing moment that she wonders if she would have been as relaxed around him had she really seen his face when they met, if she would have passed him off as just another sly womanizer by appearances alone — and she feels guilty for the thought, aware that much of her worries has been in people making presumptions about her without looking beyond the surface.
her face softens with his question, sinking a little more in her seat, fingers twisting together a bit in her lap, her eyes with those bold crimson gazing down towards her hands. it's not that much of a forward question, and all the same, it reminds her why she'd wanted to slip out here so badly in the first place. ]
It's just ... the pace of it all, it's different from everything back home. There were some pretty important things I was taking care of, me and my friends. Things were moving so quickly one day to the next, you barely had the chance to catch your breath, let alone have time to really reflect on yourself. But here — it's still fast, but there's no direction. It's like the only way is inward and there's probably nothing scarier.
[ those profiles, for all the joke they could be seen as, had really stripped her bare, just as it likely had everyone else, and somehow that made her feel a lot more naked than she had been in that shower with him the other day.
looking up to him again, she gives a quick shake of her head, and a modest laugh, sheepish with slight embarrassment. ] I'm sorry. You've been really nice to me and here I am just — that's probably not the kind of thing you want to get dragged listening to from a girl you just met.
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As briefly as that sense of fond familiarity settles into him, his attention focuses back on Tifa— she’s cute when she blushes— as a low chuckle rumbles in his throat. ]
Forgot how much they try to push you into earning your first few cards the moment you check-in. [ His smile is wry and the noise he makes is mildly exasperated, followed by a shake of his head. ] Nothing wrong with dressing nice when you can, yeah? But thanks. And it’s damn good to be able to put a face to your name and voice. Would’ve like to before, what with how sweet you seemed, but…
[ Well, they both know, even as he raises his shoulders in a shrug. She isn’t the only one who gets a chance, now, to observe some subtler details, to notice all of the things they couldn’t see before. She’s stunning, of course, but that’s obvious. From those soft, dark pool of her hair that’s as black and comforting as the night sky at sea to burnt crimson of her eyes, as warm and inviting as any hearth’s fire— perfect for any bartender, really— and all the soft, gentle curves that her dress effortlessly highlights, he doesn’t think there’s a damn person in the resort who wouldn’t look at her and think she was gorgeous. And it maybe explains a few things because, well, yeah, she must get complimented on her beauty all the time.
And while Sanji tries not stare— and doesn’t— there are other things he sees, too, the lean muscles along her arms, the dusting of scars and jagged skin draw over her fingers, the discomfort that settles on her the moment his question has left his mouth. It all paints a different picture— or, at least, fills in the details in a way that’s all the more intriguing.
The more she talks, though, the more his smile softens with quiet sympathy, understanding settling on him as the quiet worry that he’d asked the wrong question fades. Because yeah, he gets exactly what she’s talking about, maybe more than he’d like to admit, gets how different things are here, how it manages to scrape people raw and expose their worse insecurities without ever hesitating. The smile he gives her is rich with sympathy when she apologizes and his head twists in a quick shake. ]
Nah, I don’t mind. This place just knows how to get to you, you know? Sometimes, it feels like it doesn’t even need to try to do it. Especially when you first get here. I, uh, when I woke up here, we’d just finished doing something important? Helped a friend. Saved her, and her whole village, and we were supposed to be going out to accomplish our dreams. But I woke up here instead.
[ And while he has every intention of making her a drink himself— and will soon— he waves at the bartender on duty, just to get her attention, before glancing back down at the bar. They could both use a drink now, he thinks, while they talk about this. ]
I was here about a month before these– these doppelgangers showed up outta nowhere. They crawled out of these paintings and represented all the things you hated about yourself. It was awful and crappy and it’s just one piece of the crazy shit this place likes to pull. [ It’s not something he wants to talk about– how much that thing had hated itself, how desperate it had been to be used, to be of value– and skims over the details, before shaking his head. ] Point is, Tifa, I don’t think you’re wrong. It’s damn scary and this place likes to do it whenever it can. But you’ll get better at dealing with it. And maybe find a few things you don’t mind along the way.
[ His attention swivels back to her as he grins at her, a little more gently than before, gesturing to the surrounding bar. ] Like this place. It's maybe not nice enough to make dealing with the other crap worth it, but doesn't mean you can enjoy it.
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Yeah, I wanted to thank you for that too, for — well, for being patient in learning the face. [ she chuckles a bit awkwardly, but the sentiment is honest. because as low of a bar as it is for him not to have turned around on her, she knows there's plenty of boys that probably would have taken advantage in getting a peek even when she'd ask not to, and it doesn't help when this place seems to encourage it too.
but for all that charming language seems to come easy to him, she can see there's a honest consideration in him that stretches beyond the surface of flirtatious banter. back in the shower, he had been kind enough to respond to her concerns, just as he seems to now, but unlike then, it's possible to notice the weight of his attention now that they're directed towards each other, how she can feel the gentle perception of his eyes, not leering but mindful as he gives her the chance to speak quietly through every word.
she finds it's effortless in doing the same when he responds, when he doesn't wave off her fears merely as fresh arrival jitters, and the confession of his experiences has her even more acutely aware that she's hardly the only one afraid. his time in this place has stretched months but he's carried himself far through it, enough to find him consoling her in this bar. and it's familiar too, she realizes, with the struggles that everyone had faced in the sector 7 slums, already smothered by the harsh conditions of living at the bottom rubble beneath that ceiling plate of midgar and made even worse by the shinra government's pressures. but what had made it possible to survive was the sense of community there, the reminder that for as terrifying as it was, encouragement and understanding, finding joy in all possible corners, is what kept her crawling through it.
when he gives her that gentle grin, tifa doesn't have to force herself to return it as it seems to match on her lips before she notices, a soft sigh easing the tension from her shoulders once more. ] Yeah, it is nice. [ she nods, briefly casting a glance around her before looking back at him. ] You know, back home, I ran this bar called Seventh Heaven. It wasn't as dolled up like this, just a few wooden tables, chairs, and stools, plus a dart board and a few arcade machines. [ she chuckles sheepishly at the simple description, but there's a warmth in the memory of painting that image. ] But it was home, like anyone who stepped in knew they could belong there, that they could have a drink and be amongst people who knew the pain and ache they'd carry, that they shared, day by day. It's ... not standing anymore. [ there's a brief quiet somberness, gentle and slight, before she carries on with her positive smile. ] But I guess being here reminds me of what I could rebuild it to be one day, when things slow down again. But you're right ... not everything here is terrible when we can find little places like this to make us safe, even for a little while.
[ she gives a small nod, a glance of her eyes bright and sincere peering at him with an unspoken thanks in their gaze, appreciation for his encouragement, for the honesty in comforting her with understanding, before her mind drifts back to his words and gives a slight lean forward in curiousity. ]
You ... mentioned setting out with your friends to accomplish dreams before coming here. [ something about that feels so nice, compared to the harsher reality of what set her own group on their journey, and something about that sense of hopefulness gives her a genuine curiosity of him, how he bears struggle with a strong, comforting smile as he does. ] If it's not too invasive to ask — what's your dream?
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[ A part of him wonders how many decent men she’s known in her past. Life here is different in a thousand tiny ways compared to where he’s from— and where she’s from, too, he’d wager— and it’s easy to get swept along in the lurid, shameless current that the Peacock is filled with, but in his experience, most people here are good and decent and kind. Enough so to avert their eyes when a pretty lady’s clearly uncomfortable in the shower, despite the regularity of communal showers. Maybe it’s that sense— more of an instinct, like it always is when it comes to women— layered with the sight of those battle scarred fingers that makes it so easy for him to talk about some of what’s happened here.
She’s a fantastic listener. It’s maybe a cliche that bartenders are great listeners, but she’s proving that old addedges are sometimes rooted in reality. Really, he could’ve decided that from the showers, but it’s more obvious here with her gaze— both gentle and considering— turned directly on him, watching him as keeps talking. That’s another reason it’s so easy to share because the way she watches him encourages that, expects more words rather than fewer. And while he makes it a point to share some of the hard-fought wisdom that life here’s earned him with every new arrival he encounters into, it’s rarely quite so personal as this is.
And then it’s his turn to return the favor, drinking in every detail of her story with the same encouraging smile and thoughtful look plastered on his face, head dipping in an encouraging nod every now and again until she’s done and Sanji gives a thoughtful little hum and another gentle smile. ] Sounds like it was a pretty damn fine bar. Sorry to hear it’s gone now. The world can always use more places like that, yeah? Where people feel at home and welcomed and cared for. What’s the point in owning a bar— or a restaurant— if people don’t feel like they belong there. [ There is more than a hint of passion fueling his words— his tempo picks up slightly, as does his volume, but only a little— his grin growing wider, broader, less restrained. ] Back home, I worked at this floating restaurant called Baratie for a long time. Wasn’t the owner— that was this old man named Zeff— but it felt a lot like this place. Pretty nice, had a waitlist a mile long, but it was nice and inviting, too. Bet you’d have liked it, Tifa. [ And with that, his grin softens just a bit again, head very slightly tilted as he looks over at her, sincere in what he says next. ] Hope you’re able to rebuild it one day. I’d say I’d come get a drink there, but— kinda doubt we’re from the same place.
[ He’s learned not to get his hopes up about that, not after so many blank stares after mentioning Gold Roger and the One Piece and everything else that seems to be so unique to the time and place he and the other pirates here all seem to hail from. Thinking of home always makes him feel slightly wistful— his heart aches to see the Merry again, to stand on the gently swaying deck, to see Usopp and Luffy safe and sound and waiting for the three of them that remain here— but there’s joy to be found it in, too, joy that’s even sweeter when she asks about his dream. ]
Nah, not too invasive at all. [ Soft, rich laughter bubbles up from his chest as he says it, eyes bright, smile wide and full of an idealistic dreamer’s enthusiasm. It’s almost unconscious the way his fingers fidget, as if trying to play with a lighter that’s currently tucked away in his pocket, as he turns to face her fully, unable to help himself. ] Back where I come from, there’s this… place called the All Blue. It’s this legendary sea, yeah? And in it, you can find fish from any of the world’s oceans. Any of them, all of them, alongside rare seaweeds and spices we’ve never even heard of. It’s a cook’s paradise and I’m gonna find it one day. [ Even now, he can almost hear the faint echoes of the voices that mocked him as a child, but it doesn’t matter. ] And that’s my dream. To find it. Maybe it sounds stupid to you, but— I’m gonna do it. Rest of my friends have dreams just as big, but we’re all gonna accomplish them or die trying.
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granted, being in a place like this now only seems to further that challenge, now that so much of tifa's freedoms feel limited, put even further on a spotlit pedestal in regards to her physical appearance. but at least the calm of the red cardinal provides a break from all of that, especially as the conversation with sanji proves to be a satisfying distraction, caught up in the fascination of listening every time he speaks that her mind refrains from wandering too much back towards her worries. ]
A floating restaurant? Really? Like ... in the water or the sky? [ regardless, she gets caught up in imagining it, his passion in speaking about it fairly contagious as it drives her intrigue further within the imagery, her smile matching his softened grin with the assurance of his hopes. ] I guess you never know. We all made it here, right? So, maybe you can come see it sometime. I promise to reserve you a table if you do.
[ not that she knows much of how any of them have been able to cross over, the way she's already learned of different worlds in the short time she's been here. it probably isn't at all possible, but she wouldn't mind having some more customers with a kindness like sanji.
because there's something in him she doesn't see too often at all, the way he seems to almost glow as he answers about his dream, the casual smooth gentleman now transformed into something of an excited child, his eyes and fingers all attentive now to the description like he's almost all too eagerly been waiting for any chance to speak about it. and where she comes from, dreams tend to be a rarity, most of them having been ruined by shinra's destruction of homes and smothering of hopes. listening to sanji, she finds herself just as transfixed, despite everything he sees seeming like pure imagination. but just as anytime she hears words of a dream and hope from a friend, her heart swells with the endearment of it so much that it's more than enough to make her want to believe too.
without a thought, her hand reaches out, fingers resting light over the jacket sleeve of his forearm like a subconscious gesture of protest. ] Oh, no, it's not stupid at all! [ she shakes her head with the reassurance, lips returning to a light warm smile, with a quiet laugh. ] Really, the way you talk about it, I'd really want to see it too. And it's ... well, it's pretty beautiful that you're holding onto it. The world never really makes that easy. [ she sighs softly, her smile carrying a trace of her own somberness even as she aims to be encouraging. ] If you really want to talk about silly, my friends and I at home are trying to save an entire planet. Not sure how far we'll get on that dream, but — accomplish them or die trying, right?
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That, too, was not Zeff’s intention, but— well, what else was Sanji to do but stay and repay the debt owed? Even now, he’s paying back the small debts that he owes, still half-convinced he’s not worthy of any of the good that’s happened since arriving at the Peacock while fervently hoping it all doesn’t come crashing to the ground. And maybe it’s odd to think of this shitty, sex-obsessed casino as being capable of causing good, but there’s at least a few things that’ve happened that he’s oddly grateful for.
Meeting people like Tifa, who he’d never have met back home, is one of them. ]
Ah, sorry, sorry, it floats in the water, yeah. [ Quiet laughter spills from his throat as he grins at her, gaze vibrant with excitement. ] Worked there for nearly a decade and wouldn’t change that for a damn thing. Only left it so I could follow my heart. [ Looking back, as loathe as he once was to admit it, it was past time to spread his wings and take to the sea— to experience life outside of the sheltered existence known as Baratie— and start accomplishing his dreams. ] Yeah? I, uh, don’t work at the Baratie anymore, but you make it over to where I’m from and I can show you around our ship.
[ As far as he is concerned, it seems impossible, but, well, when the Peacock is involved, there seems to be no limits to what’s possible and what isn’t. And who knows? Maybe there are ways to make it happen on the Grand Line that none of them have heard of before. Sanji’s only heard a few stories, really, from Zeff and Shanks has been mostly quiet on the matter as well, insisting they should discover what’s possible for themselves, but he’d already been prepared to throw away normal notions of possibility long before this place had nabbed them.
It’s a testament to how deeply passionate he is about his dream that as he describes it, talks about it with childlike wonder, he misses the subtle signs of how entranced she is by his descriptions. It feels like rambling to him— even though it isn’t— but there’s no denying the sense of wonder he feels whenever he even so much as daydreams about it. He’s caught in a verbal reverie and it only shatters when he feels that featherlight brush of fingers against his arm, blinking for a brief second as reality crashes back into his perception. And while Sanji isn’t feeling tense, necessarily, there’s a feeling like relaxation— maybe relief?— when she reassures him that she doesn’t find such bold dreams to be foolish at all. And if he needed another reason to find her company enjoyable, to ratchet her up in his esteem another level, well, that certainly is reason enough.
His grin widens— still soft, still warm— as she talks about her dream, about what she’s interested in accomplishing. It’s as bold and daring as anything anyone on their crew is aiming for— no, maybe more so because saving a whole planet could be a hell of a lot harder than becoming Pirate King— and without even really thinking about it, he lightly covers the hand resting on his forearm with his other hand. ] Nah, not silly. Maybe not easy, but no dream worth accomplishing is, yeah? Definitely sounds more daunting than surviving this crappy place or finding a mythical ocean. Wanting to do something like that— most people wouldn’t even try, I bet. [ Sometimes, he thinks about the way the cooks on the Orbit used to laugh at his dream and wonders how many of them used to dream of the All Blue? How many of them dreamed the same dream and gave up without trying? ] But it feels like just trying means more than you’d think. Dreams can be foolish, but you’ll never know if you don’t try.
[ It sounds a little silly— saying that— to his ears, but after years of sitting on his own dream, setting sail had felt like such a big first step. The smile he offers her is a little sheepish, shoulders raised in a gentle tug, but a bartender on duty finally pauses in front of them with an expectant look. ] Let me buy you a drink? My treat. I’ll, uh, make you one myself later.
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but even now, there'd be a slight part of her willing to give it a chance, considering the few people she's come to meet who've actually helped her through it, some offering advice, some willing to play music with her, and some who can take her to a bar to talk wistfully about dreams. it's the same way she first arrived in midgar, still recovering from the pain of her injury under the weight of medical debt and no one from home left alive — and yet she'd met jessie, biggs, wedge, barret, and everyone else who'd become her family in the sector 7 slums.
sometimes even in the worst of places, it's the people who make it worth surviving. sanji's sweetness, with all the purity of his dreams and his kind smile, seems like someone worth trying to stay strong for. ]
Alright, then. It's a plan! [ she gives an enthusiastic nod, with a slight giggle from the shared excitement, because whether or not it's possible, sometimes there's something worth making plans of things you want to do, the way aerith would often encourage her, as a way to get past the harsher times. and to visit restaurants that float or simply sanji's ship in his world, it sounds like a thrill worth being excited for.
and maybe that's credit to sanji, with all the enthusiasm he puts into talking about his world and his dream, the way it almost seems to make her forget entirely that she's even in this strange resort, simply enthalled by such a positive energy that she's come to miss feeling herself. it's all distracting enough that she doesn't even realize when her hand lands on his forearm, not until his fingers come to rest over hers — and suddenly, she's more hyperaware than ever of that point of contact.
the warmth of his touch seems to gravitate down upon her own skin, a heated graze that begins as a comforting gesture until such a simple touch forms electricity through her body, moving from her knuckles, along her arm, and the stretching out through the rest of her. it catches her off guard, though she only reacts with a slight hitch in her breath as she keeps her attention focused on him, eyes trying not to respond to the sensation as she simply attempts to regain the calm of her breaths. ]
Y-yeah, I think so too. At least I have enough friends daring enough to keep charging at it. Not sure I'd be brave enough to do it on my own, but — well, they make it worth trying. [ she manages a returning smile at him, nodding enthusiastically when the bartender approaches, as if that might distract from the heat over her cheeks. ] Sure, a drink sounds good. Just make sure you let me make one for you sometime too, to thank you.
[ it's when she turns in her seat towards the direction of the bartender that sanji might just see it — with her hair tucked back, the subtle presence of a diamond mark, small and almost hidden, just behind her ear, its red color having a notable growing brightness. ]
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For all that Sanji can feel like the ebb and flow of the Peacock is slowly wearing away at him, grinding down that spark of angry resistance he manages to keep tucked away until there’s nothing left, moments like this give him hope. He’s stubborn, and not the type to give up, and unwilling to give this place the satisfaction of having the last laugh, but even those traits need a little help, now and again. It reminds him of life back on the Baratie, a little, of how deeply he’d yearned to journey forth and find the All Blue, and how crushing forcing himself to stay had felt. This place doesn’t even give the illusion of choice, not if you ask him, and while he’s started to find things he’d lacked in the past— affection, belonging, love— and while those things are good, they’re as much a part of the trap as anything.
Yet something as simple as making plans for a future that might never happen with someone who’s as audacious of a dreamer as he is— well, it’s a sweet reminder to keep fighting, no matter how subtle the act of resistance.
And it all leaves him laughing with her as talks about it as a forgone conclusion, nodding enthusiastically without a hint of restraint. It almost reminds him of Luffy, of the easy way he simply assumes he’ll become King of the Pirates, as if fate itself couldn’t stand in his way. Not that he’d ever really make a plan— or know what a plan is— but it’s careless and free and the reality of their situation doesn’t matter a whit. This isn’t really the same, but the similarity is close enough that he’s utterly captivated in that quiet moment. Maybe to someone else, it wouldn’t seem like anything special, but her positivity is almost infectious. ]
That’s what friends are for, yeah? To help do the things you can’t, to push you along when you need it. [ No wonder he doesn’t think of flirting. No wonder he misses the moment where his hand covers hers, only just barely perceiving that gentle way her breath catches. ] It’d be my pleasure to enjoy any drink you—
[ No wonder he’s looking close enough a heartbeat later to notice— ]
Ah, shit— [ It’s a soft, hissing exhale as soon as he sees it— that familiar mark stamped on the skin that’s only just visible because, as he realizes, he’s been watching her intently, drinking in every subtle reaction and miniscule expression on her face. He blinks, once, twice, thrice, just to make sure he isn’t seeing things, a worried expression settling on his face. ]
Hey, Tifa? Are you feeling okay? [ With almost tender gentleness, his other hand lets its fingers seek the mark, sweeping back a few strands of inky dark hair to gingerly touch it directly. It’s like his, he realizes in that moment, a diamond, though smaller and far more exposed. ] Your, uh, suit mark is looking really bright. Like it’s gonna flare or has already. [ And while for the past few moments, the Red Cardinal itself has faded into an almost insubstantial blurr, irrelevant as they talk about dreams and plans, it crashes back into his sense of reality now. ] We might wanna get you outta here if it is. Anyone ever tell you about them before?
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when sanji mutters that swear, with those soft stormy eyes focused in on her, she can feel herself begin to freeze up, shoulders tense as she wonders if he could possibly see right through her or if that slight hitch of breath had somehow given herself entirely away, as if that fleeting rush of heat had written its confession all over her face.
close enough, it seems, as he draws attention to that mark behind her ear that can sometimes be forgettable with the way she doesn't often see it unless she catches it with a turn of her head in front of a mirror. but then his hand seeks out to study it, another instance of skin finding skin, and she could swear there's a power in those fingertips, in how they cast a shudder along that patch of skin between ear and hair to the stretch of her spine, all from the sensitivity over that secondary light touch.
it can't be happening again, can it? not here, like this. her memory draws on the temptations that had surfaced when she had first stepped into the omegadome, the cravings that made her act so irrationally, so hungry for touch. though it doesn't shout so loudly through her body as it did then, she can feel the swirl of penetrating fantasy, the kind that wonders how those fingers would feel on other places of her skin. ]
Sanji ... [ she whispers, with another sharpness of drawn breath, stronger now that she's well aware of the full attention he's giving her, his attentive eyes only adding to the subtle presence of curious urges, before she manages to at least shake her head at his question. ] They, um — when I first got here, they said I was approved for some kind of special privilege to get me started. Something about full mark activation, but nothing was happening, so — [ she finally manages to turn her eyes towards him, a swirl of crimson that nearly mirrors the color of that diamond drawn on her skin, realization sinking heavy in her belly, heart beginning to pound a bit harder now. ] It's happening, isn't it? The kinds of things you warned about.
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A part of him had been hoping they could keep talking for hours yet.
Worry swirls deep in his gut, irrationally intense as his eyes catch the way her shoulders suddenly tighten, no longer relaxed. He's no stranger to any of this– he doubts anyone's made it as long as he has without the House causing a suit flare at least once– but there is newness, here, an unfamiliarity as he realizes that he's never been in quite this position before. Circumstances have always ensured his suit mark is flaring, too, but not this time. There is nothing amiss aside from a few emotions– worry for her, anger at the house, the desire to help burning strong through his veins, and the determination to see her safe and relieved, whatever that requires– and in the wake of her question, it forces him to take a deep breath, fingers itching to dip into his pockets to pull out a cigarette. ]
Those assholes– [ It's a low growl of irritation, a flash of that furious anger burning bright blue in his eyes, but then he gives his head a small shake, recentering himself, forcing the anger down– shoving it back into that place where it stews endlessly– and focusing on exactly what he can do.
Another deep breath, and he meets her gaze, peers deep into those eyes a shade of red as vivid as the sunset while at sea, gaze and smile full of gentleness and sympathy. ] Sorry. But– yeah, it is. I wish it weren't, Tifa. [ His exhales is ragged as he considers what to say next, refusing to look away as his fingers slide down, gently brushing another inch or two of skin before they pull away from her mark completely– ] We… probably don't have time to go over it all, but– we all get these marks [ – only to lightly press against where his is hidden by layers of cloth, just between his left shoulder and heart. ] and when they turn dark, things happen. We get certain urges, we start to ache, we feel this burning need that just keeps getting worse and worse and worse– you get the idea. And it won't stop until you've, uh, had sex with someone. [ It's only natural, the way the hand covering hers gives it a gentle squeeze, eyes watching her with that same intensity. ]
So– yeah, we need to get you out of here. It's gonna come on hard and fast and you don't wanna know what happens if you let it keep happening for too long. [ Or so he's heard, he's never been foolish enough to find out. ] You got anyone you trust to, um, help you? Anyone you think we can find soon? [ There's another option– and Sanji would be lying if he didn't admit that a part of him wants her to take that course– but he refuses to push himself on anyone, not when it comes to this. ]
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it both simultaneously helps and doesn't when he gives her that squeeze to her hand, relieved for his comfort but imagining the tattoo only brightens from the rush she gets from the sole touch he offers.
anyone you trust to help you. the name that springs to mind is instantaneously an impossibility, because for all that she trusts cloud, the previous incident between them brought the acknowledgement that it's not something that could just happen so casually again, not when there's miles worth of baggage for them to sort through, the kind that may not ever recover if they pile all of this onto it too. but if not cloud, then ...
she gives a regretful shake of her head, not able to look him in the eye. ]
I haven't really been here long enough to really find, um — someone for all of that. [ eyes downcast, the weight of her gaze lingers on that soothing hold of his hand in hers, warm and simply friendly, something she feels plenty lucky to be able to find in a place that has a way of making anyone feel so lost within themselves. but it also blossoms a curiosity that she forces herself to swallow, guilt swelling in her chest with her dependency of his aid.
lifting her head, she glances back up at him and puts on a smile, the kind that's well practiced with all that she puts on her cheery enthusiasm from the other side of her own bar, turning her hand to give his fingers a returning squeeze of appreciation. ] But it's okay. I can head back and ... get it figured out. I don't want you to have to worry about — [ her eyes drift from his eyes to the softness of his lips, a dizzying thought curious to know if they bear a taste as sweet as the rest of him, and down to the slope of his throat, strong and succulent that invites the test of how well her mouth could leave its own mark there.
she slowly lifts her gaze back to his eyes, the guilt of her thoughts burning a hot in the swirling red there as it does in the mark of her sinful fantasies. ] I should go on my own. If I — if I stay with you longer, I might want ... [ you, she doesn't say, but she doesn't think she needs to. ]
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His expectation– his fear, his uncertainty, maybe even his hope– keeps his breath frozen in his chest for a long, quiet moment. Genuinely, he wants her to say yes, to know that she can find comfort in someone else's arms, pleasure in someone else's mouth, relief in someone else's hands. As much as the sight of her makes his breath eager to catch, makes his mouth go a little dry as he catches the way color dusts her cheeks, he's not quite so selfish to wish she has nobody she can trust.
It's enough that he exhales a soft curse when she finally answers, shaking his head, biting his bottom lip as his thoughts churn a mile a minute. ]
Shit– I mean, I had a feeling, but– hoped maybe you'd lucked out or something. [ Every drop of attention he has is focused on her– the rest of the Red Cardinal may as well not exist right now– as he leans forward slightly, fingers squeezing in silent reassurance that they'll find a way to get her the help she needs. Maybe there's someone else here she knows, someone she'd prefer? He's got a gilded tongue, or so someone once accused him of having one, so maybe he can find someone to–
When she looks up at him, something about that smile makes his heart seize. It's a smile that says she's trying too hard, that announces she wants him to think everything will be okay, that screams a need for help that he can't possibly ignore. It's a smile he recognizes because he's worn it before, when the pit of his own self-loathing swells too large to ignore.
His mouth opens, ready to offer up reason and logic, to say that there is no dealing with this on her own, but then she looks and his awareness is so sharp that the course of her gaze is a featherlight touch, a gentle caress he can feel as it slides over his lips and down his neck, so tangible there's no running from the shudder that rushes along his spine. Unlike her, he has no excuse for the thoughts dipped in sin that follow, that wonder how she'd feel beneath him– or in his lap– or clinging to his chest– that want to explore every inch of her, to find every sweet spot that makes her breath hitch and her voice dissolve into a soft, need-filled moan. His eyes flicker down just that once– flicker and see how flattering the little dress she's wearing is, the urge to see everything he couldn't the last time they'd met suddenly burning in his gut– before they meet hers, all storm and sea and smoke and want. ]
Hey. [ His voice is soft– too soft, maybe– as he speaks, fingers suddenly curling around the softness of her cheek in a gentle caress. ] It's okay if you want– [ Even trying to say it makes him shiver. ] –if you want my help. If you want me. [ The smile he gives her is small and genuine– almost shy, if it weren't for the way his eye glimmer with pleasure as he says it– as his thumb gently traces the soft curve of her jaw. ] Don't wanna take advantage of you, lovely, but– I want you. [ It's odd how admitting that makes his mouth go a little dry, makes him swallow and hope she doesn't think too poorly of him for it. ] Wanna help you and make you feel good, if that's what you want.
[ He thinks it is. Knows it is, really, know it well enough that his lips are hovering less than an inch from hers, close enough that when he leans forward slightly, it's enough to brush the gentlest, briefest kiss he can manage against her mouth. ] If, yeah? Just give me the words and I'll take damn good care of you.
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which presents the question of whether she would be feeling the same curious aching desires towards sanji now if that diamond weren't pulsing bright in this very moment. it's hard to say when that impulsion of spontaneous lust is plenty foreign to her own body, but as his fingers slide against the flesh of her cheek, she feels a soothing comfort in the touch that doesn't feel entirely related to the unnatural cravings of her body. the physical contact draws her eyes to stay locked with his, and it's a magic that's all entirely his own, the softness of his voice like a lull to the crashing waves that splash against stone in the mist of his eyes and a smile that doesn't carry the kind of lies she's used to finding in more lecherous men.
i want you, words she's heard in attempted seduction before, but not ever has it comes with the graze of a thumb across her jaw that coaxes her lips to part, to quiver with a hazy breath as she finds herself consumed with an abundance of fantasies in all the ways she wants this man in front of her to find himself between her legs, to feel those gentle hands tug down the hem of her dress and offer her breasts a far rougher squeeze, to memorize those lips caressing along every path of her skin.
another trick from the resort? a simple con of his own? perhaps. except she also still sees the boyish charm from the same lips that had just sweetly shared his dreams with her just moments ago, the same honest eyes from a man who simply wants to find the most beautiful sea that may or may not exist. somehow, she's sure of it, even through the more obscene demands of a needy cunt and the growing wetness that already begins to seep through her panties — this is a boy that tifa lockhart herself is all too willing to kiss.
and when he brushes his lips ever so gently to hers, it seals that certainty.
her fingers curve to tighten around his own as her head gives a subtle tilt, a minor gesture that's enough to nudge their noses together as if their tips could catch a kiss of their own, while she seeks to find her own voice. ]
I want you. [ she admits, in the softest whisper, her cheeks blossoming a shade that's more honest of a girl still carrying nerves for the admission. but she nods all the same, fingers rising to gently stroke a tentative touch of her own to his cheek, as she leans in for another soft brush of their mouths, a kiss more firm than the last though almost still shy, even as her breath carries desire in heat as it's exhaled past his lips. she whispers again. ] If it's — if it's okay, then ... I want it with you. I trust you.
[ she arches her body forward, curving further into him, fighting the impulse for more touch, for the itch of her hands that nearly aim to start peeling away at his jacket and all the other layers that come with it, to learn the muscles beneath that suit. at least she's sensible enough in the moment, still plenty herself even when that aroused diamond-led stranger takes over parts of her body, to remember they aren't alone to rush right towards appeasing cravings, even if she finds herself entirely blind to the rest of the red cardinal while this close to his proximity. ] Get us out of here?
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But that flicker of anxiety only lasts a few heartbeats— stil an eternity by his estimation— before the firm grip on his hand squeezes firmer and their noses press against one another. It’s enough to make his breath catch, teeth gently biting the inside of his cheek, as the anticipation swells in his chest and his gaze drinks in every fine detail it can find of her expression— the emotions brimming in her eyes, the way her lips curve and press, the gentle flush that somehow only makes what beauty she already possesses feel that much more vivid— as she says the things he secretly wants to hear most in that moment.
His lips want to curve in that broad, beaming way he’s sure she’d think foolish— he’s been called that before— in the wake of that brief kiss. They tingle pleasantly, greedy for more of the soft warmth of Tifa’s lips, greedy for countless more kisses. Later, though, he thinks, even as she leans forward and his heart beats a little faster. ]
It’s more than okay. [ Instead, his smile is easy and gentle, voice soft as he tilts his head up and stamps another kiss against the shallow curve of her forehead. All that burgeoning desire— that part of him that wants to forget where they are and strip every scrap of clothing off her, that needs to know if her mouth is every bit as sweet as he dares to hope, that wonders if she’ll fit as perfectly in his arms and around his cock as fervently wishes— he stuffs away for the moment, head dipping down in a quick, decisive nod. ] I’ll take you back to my suite— it’s not as close as you’d like, but— just hold back, yeah? However bad it gets, I’ll make you feel so much better soon.
[ Their silent reverie breaks in that moment, shattered as he leans back— twists about, really— and slips out of the bar stool. The noise of the bar is a low hum, but suddenly, his perception sweeps over the room, acutely aware of every gaze in the bar and how many are directed their way. Sanji doubts anyone realizes what’s happened— or even wants to take advantage— but it still feels like his responsibility to ensure nothing happens, to make sure she’s safe. Maybe there’s some lingering instinct from his time in the omegadome, some piece of him that remains protective when in the presences of those he feels some responsibility towards, but regardless, as soon as they’re back on their feet, weaving their way through tables and chairs and waiters and patrons, his hands releases hers only for his arm to wrap tightly around her shoulders.
It doesn’t truly even occur to him that something like that— tucking her against his side, arm holding her tight— might make her symptoms worse, the might sharpen her cravings or intensify her heat. He moves, and brings her with him, striking a balance between a quick pace and avoiding any unfortunate collisions. They pass out of the Red Cardinal into the twisting hallways and main corridors, his skin prickling with anticipation even as worry sits heavy in his chest as he sneaks sidelong glances at her, trying to keep an eye on how she’s doing.
A few minutes pass, and then a few more, and then they finally turn into the more residential section of the resort where the garish buildings and ornate decorations giveway to cabins and chambers and apartments, all of which have a single, simple door. They line the walls in droves, countless of them, as they venture closer and closer, lips pressed in a tight frown when he looks at her out of the corner of his eye. His steps slow just slightly as his arm squeezes tighter around pale shoulders, head tilted to brush a gentle kiss to her temple. ]
You okay, Tifa? [ The concern is real, sharp and present and warm, as he speaks, gaze watching her with that same intensity. ] Just a couple more minutes, okay? We’ll get you feeling better soon, lovely, promise.
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it's his gentleness that makes it easy to give in, how even with her confession, he still guides her with the tender kindness of his lips to her forehead, patient understanding in that subtle gesture so heart-wrenchingly surprising that it only seems to make that vulnerable organ in her chest beat all the faster with an ache to be surrounded by him completely. ]
Okay. [ she gives an understanding nod, partly still naive in her early interpretations of these urges, because how bad could it truly get for her to be unable to handle a simple walk to his place. it's that decision alone that currently has her stomach in a flutter of nerves, if only because it's the first since she's been here that she's agreed at all to go back with someone with those intentions in mind, compared to the more impromptu decisions that seemed to have become more of the norm in this resort.
with sanji leading, tifa follows, sliding off the stool and focusing on the clutch of his hand with her head slightly bowed as to avoid meeting the possible gaze of anyone else in the restaurant, wondering if they could see the glow of her mark tucked behind her ear as he had or if something else on her body spells the prickle of lust she's feeling for everyone to see. when his arm finds itself around her shoulders instead, her face burns with crimson, fighting the urge to turn and tuck her face into his chest to hide it.
it's just a walk, she tries to remind herself, but the close proximity only burns her temperature hotter, how even with her body leaning in against his jacket, his warmth seems to radiate through the layers. she has to keep her hand at the small of his back to avoid the collision of her arm against his side but in doing so, it only forces upon more touch, more points of contact that make her all the more alert of the way she can pull him in further towards her. with each step, she can feel the shift of the fabric from her panties grazing against her folds, the slick threads practically clinging to her cunt from the soaked material — all hidden beneath her dress and yet, the obvious sensation makes her feel so seen while she's tucked against him, like he and everyone else knows that she's some poor hungry animal shivering with the desperation to be fucked.
she doesn't like it, all these physical vulnerabilities worn on her sleeves, but she reminds herself that he doesn't seem to think less of her for it, that he knows where it all stems from. and it's almost as though he could read her mind, with how that assuring kiss to her temple seems to break her out of that distracted spell of thoughts, making her more conscious of the steps in front of them, the residential doors still seeming like a maze with how little she's been able to fully understand her way around the resort.
but she turns her head up to him, managing a small smile even as her breathing still exhales shallowly from her lips. ] Yeah, I'm ... I'm okay. It's just — starting to feel a little dizzy and ... hot, I think? [ her attempt to try to piece together parts of her symptoms as she meets his eyes, has her absentmindedly gazing back towards his mouth again, almost deliriously like a starved child who hasn't had a meal in days suddenly catching a sampling of warm meat in her midst. she swallows, turning her head down, almost ashamed. ] And I can't ... stop thinking about it — wanting to kiss you, wanting your hands on me, wanting you to — [ she gives a firm shake of her head, feeling the blush warm beyond her cheeks, across every portion of her skin. ] Does it always feel this intoxicating?
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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.
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but maybe she would have liked to see where another few dates could take them, to map out more stories of someone who had lived in a restaurant floating in the ocean, who was now sailing on a ship to find a legendary sea, who knew all the right things to say to pull out a smile easily from her lips. maybe she would have even been bold enough to initiate the first kiss eventually, when she became more sure of it all.
it's impossible to say now how things would have steered on the path, now that it's all been escalated too fast, so much so that whatever part of her that felt that natural attraction towards him at the red cardinal is now too overcome with the guilt of dragging him into helping her, even his own voluntary insistence. but just as he had then, sanji seems to have a gift for knowing all the right steps towards easing away that tension, how one, two, three kisses find their way down along the slope of her face, each one more tender than the last, until the last hushes away concerns, reminding her again what it is she really craves here — not just sex, but the heat for him, for his hands and mouth and kisses and touch. ]
Okay. [ she repeats as before, once again taking in a deep shaky breath, even as the lingering brush of his lips to hers pools its way low, past the sweet flutter in her belly, to the urgent ache of her cunt. you're doing so damn good, he says, and that provides a surprising kind of motivation, like the reminder that this is a test of patience, and there's that competitive impulse in her that ignites, wanting to prove she's capable of getting through it. ] I can make it, I promise.
[ even if it means she's gripping the back of his jacket a little tighter as they continue to move, fingers curling into a grip that might rip the very fabric itself if he ends up pulling away from her, just to keep herself steady. she licks her lips, focuses on the lingering taste of him there, on the sweetness of how he's soothed her, on the promise of more to come.
and then they're there, according to his words, unsure of what there is until he raises his wrist to activate one particular elevator that looks no different to plenty of others they've passed before. but if this is the special one they've needed then she moves her feet with him inside of it without a second thought, her breath held with anticipation as the door slides shut and then —
his mouth collides with hers before she even has a chance to look at him, and she doesn't even spare a thought before she's responding with just as much fervor, abandoning all gentleness for the heated chase of his mouth, warm and soft and tasting of relief. ]
Sanji. [ she breathes between their lips, a light sound like a whimper caught when she eagerly kisses him again, conscious shame abandoned when she offers the urgent heat of her tongue for his. her insatiable hunger is in her kiss, and equally in her grip of her thin fingers slipping in past his jacket to curve around his belt, tugging him in as close as she could urge him. the current state of suit's escalation is still barely hidden otherwise, how the front of her dress had been designed with a light padding so that it could be worn without a bra and yet still not enough to shield the perky arousal of her nipples now pebbled into stiff buttons straining against the fabric.
she gasps softly against his mouth for breath, her face lingering close to his, meeting peppered kisses to his lips, face flush with a deep crimson at her fully exposed urgency, hoping she'd at least made him proud by resisting this long. ] Touch me? Please?
[ because she's realizing just how increasingly difficult it's become just to avoid touching herself even if just for a few fleeting seconds of relief, like an itch that needs to be scratched, except it's a pulsing ache between her legs, and the discomfort of a thoroughly soaked pair of panties now drenched in all the slick that's dripped from her cunt since his fingers had first caressed over hers back at the bar. ]
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They aren’t much. A cheap balm that he’s certain provides only a modicum of relief, a show of fondness to remind her that he will take care of her, that he will sate her body’s lust the moment they’re able.
That’s to say nothing of his own, a mellower, gentler want that he keeps in check with an iron grip, the constant reminder that she needs his help— nothing more, nothing less— playing in his head like the refrain of a song. It does nothing to dull the worry that he’s taking advantage— that without this heat, she’d have no interest in finding out what his hands, his mouth, his cock can all do to her— but there’s no time and no choice and it’s a problem he’ll deal with later, when the elevator doors aren’t cracking open and he isn’t busy letting the impulse to kiss her overriding every other thought and concern he could have.
Without even meaning to, she leaves him shuddering at the way his name sounds on her tongue— it sounds like a plea, like a prayer, like a whimper of need that only he can fulfill— and he didn’t his thoughts whirling anymore than they already are when she kisses him, too. Even with guilt and uncertainty eating away at his consciousness, his lips still part in welcome, his tongue lifting up to brush and tangle intimately with hers. His fingers softly stroke the gentle slopes of her cheeks, each touch as delicate as though her skin is porcelain to be revered, before his arm’s slipping around her waist, subconsciously aiding in her quest for closeness. There’s a noise he makes— rumbles quietly— as the softness of her breasts pools against the hard, broad plane of his chest, not even layers of fabric enough to dampen his appreciation for that failing. If the circumstances were anything else, he thinks he’d lose himself in kissing her, thinks he’d keep doing it over and over and over until their lips were kiss-swollen and sweetly aching from it. And maybe he will, still, but when the kiss breaks and he’s left softly panting against her mouth, too, fingers curling around her hip, the reminder of her need— her heat— bubbles up to the top of his mind. ]
You did so, so good, Tifa. Shit— you lasted so long. Yeah, yeah, of course I’ll touch you now. [ His voice is soft as he says it, dotting quick, gentle kisses against her lips and her cheeks, arm unwrapping from around her waist to slip between the small gap between them. Smiling against her mouth, he kisses her again— teeth nipping gingerly at her lips— before taking a half step back, adding just a hint more room. His arm moves down, nudging her legs to spread further apart, before darting in between her legs, the pads of fingertips curling around the sensitive skin low on the inside of her thigh. Any other time, he’d take his time, let his fingers slowly climb up and up and up, admiring the heat of her skin, the tone of her muscles, that point where slickness begins to cling, but he’s got more sense then that, knows she deserves better than being teased even a second longer than necessary. His hand skims over that expanse of skin, motion quick but smooth, as his lips press a kiss to her forehead, other hand gently stroking her hair. ]
Don’t worry, lovely, gonna make you fe— fuck—
[ Sanji’s eyes widen as the press of a pair of fingers finds the sodden ruins of her panties, soaked through and practically leaking her slick. He can’t help it. He groans softly, head spinning just a little, that familiar heat of want unfurling inside him, desire pooling like molten metal deep in the pit of his gut. There’s no hesitation in pulling them down, one hand tugging them as far down her thighs as he can manage with a savage yank, mouth suddenly crashing down against hers in a kiss that’s hungry and eager and desperate to taste the sweetness of her mouth all over again.
Another soft, quiet groan rumbles against her mouth as his fingers curl, lightly drawing their tips along the swollen, dripping folds of her cunt. His whole body shudders— yes, he knows her suit is flaring, knows it, knows that’s what’s responsible, but fuck, it’s hard to feel like that matters in the moment— as he murmurs against her lips in a voice that’s a soft purr. ]
Shit, you’re so fucking wet for me. Fuck, Tifa—
[ It’s not a bad thing and he tries to make that clear as his fingers shamelessly trace the shape of her cunt— mapping the dips and folds and ridges, gliding over the slit, gently rubbing the throbbing, needy bud of her clit— in a quick exploration, greedy to feel every inch of hot, slick flesh. His back curls and his lips gently press a kiss to the tip of her chin, then along the soft curve of jaw, before stamping soft kisses all along the column of her throat, each followed by a greedy little suck or a playful nip of his teeth. Not that those kisses are what she needs, not know, not as the elevator slowly rises upwards. The need to touch her is so strong— the need to make her moan and see the pleasure painted all over her gorgeous face so intense— that he’s quick to press the full flats of both fingers against her cunt, wrist flexing as it drags and grinds the digits along slickly silken flesh, not bothering with slow and steady, but rubbing against her with steady, firm, quick motions. ]
Your cunt’s so damn slick— [ He murmurs a half moment later, mouth surging up to kiss hers, bright eyes hazy with his own lust as his cock strains against the fronts of slacks, achingly hard already. ] —love that. Gonna do anything, everything I can to make you feel wonderful tonight.
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his arm curves around her to nestled her into his body, abandoning the previously friendly support of his hold during their long journeyed walk, for something that mirrors the demand of her own urgency, carefulness left behind in the wake of something far hungrier.
she really could kiss him like this all night if it were left to choice, but the hot press of his swelling lips, it feeds into a hunger that only expands her appetite, making her desire the slick of that tongue to find itself across other parts of her body.
his praise makes her chest swell with a surprising fill of satisfaction, as if her attempts to hold herself together from crumbling to her lust had all been some unintentional test to seek his approval, to be graded high with his rewarding kisses and tender brushes to her cheek. except she knows what the true prize is, nerves suddenly reawakening with their previous vibrations through her limbs as she watches the descent of his hand, sliding down to snake up beneath her dress and —
fuck.
seeing the shock in his eyes, her own mirror their widening surprise, her cheeks suddenly burning for reasons beyond the demand of heat, as embarrassment rushes the blood flow with the uncertainty that maybe she's done this all wrong, that the mess down between her legs is just flat out absurd to anyone to be that desperately needy. ]
S-sorry, I didn't think it was— [ before she could even figure out what it is she means to say, or what exactly she expects to apologize for, she's interrupted by the abrupt yank of her underwear, the burning drag of lace stretched down her thighs, the sticky cling of fabric pressed up to her cunt the last to draw away with the way it resists the pull with all that abundance of slick that nearly keeps it glued to skin. and then there's sanji's mouth, swallowing away all apologies and worries with the reassurance eagerness of want, so believable that tifa's surprised to find just how much she believes his kiss.
and there it is, the relief, the bare skin of his fingers finding the surface flesh of her soaking cunt, her lips helpless in the way they part with a shuddering breath nearly as loud as a gasp when he begins to stroke and examine her with his fingertips as if to put every sensation of her to memory. an arm darts up over his shoulder, fingers now clutching at the height of his back similar to their previous cling, only now it's for the sake of keeping her own legs from giving out at being touched. with every brush of fingers, every soothing caress of his kisses to her throat, she makes a soft sound, both pleading and satisfied, a shudder rolling up her spine when he begins to offer a more rhythmic set of strokes, her hips instinctively bucking forward to meet those digits.
and he's right, she is slick, because she can even hear it, the lewd echo of his fingers dragging across the slippery surface of her folds, how she can feel all those fluids of arousal from her cunt catching onto his skin, the sensation and awareness simply making her more wet, paired with his vocal enthusiasm that seems to only make her skin hotter. ]
Sanji, it's— you made me so wet. [ she responds in a breathless haze against his lips, panting as she tries to meet his eyes with her own half-lidded. ] Your touch is— it's so good on me. Feels so good on my cunt, fuck— Sanji, please, don't stop.
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And maybe he shouldn’t. Maybe it should be only sympathy he regards her with— and a stubborn refusal to let her shoulder her heat on her own— rather than with the rising tide of swirling desire, but what he should or shouldn’t do doesn’t matter, not when his head’s swimming with want and he’s quickly drowning beneath the enormity of it. He doesn’t even try to murmur an excuse— to whisper words that might soothe away her apology— not when action is sufficient to show how pleased he is, not when his hunger is roaring and he devours her mouth with greedy abandon, groaning softly against her lips at how sweet she tastes, at how wonderful it is stroke and tease the heated slickness that coats every bare inch of her cunt.
And if touching her isn’t sweet enough— if the way she bucks and writhes already, responding to his touch in a silent plea for more— isn’t enough to spur him on, wouldn’t set his blood alight all on it’s own, those lovely, desperate sounds of delight that spill from her lips certainly certain would. Sanji doesn’t even think about it, the way he firms up the pressure the slicker she grows, the more enthused the grinding becomes as his teeth deliver sharp, playful nips to her lips, the full flats of his fingers flush against her quivering entrance, stroking over her with enough enthusiasm that the muscles in his forearms almost ache.
That alone is enough to make him forget about everything else— the elevator, her heat, that they barely know one another— such that when she responds, he’s utterly captivated again, breath hitching in his throat, forehead pressed gently against hers as the reality of her words sinks in. ]
Tifa— fuck— you’re fucking soaked and it’s just for me, fuck— [ Shuddering, his mouth seeks her again in another shamelessly hungry kiss, lips insistent as he kisses her harder, and harder still, as if trying to claim her through the sheer intensity of his kiss. The pads of his fingers glide easily along her slit, stroking her up from the very base of her cunt to the top, seeking the desperate throb of her swollen clit, rubbing it in almost lazy circles as his tongue plunges into the sweet heat of her mouth, seeking to claim her there, too. Groaning her name softly against her lips, he teases her clit more, still drawing ambling circles against the firmed bud. ] You got any idea what you do to me, lovely? How hard you’ve got my cock already? How bad I want to fuck you?
[ It’s not something he shows her right away, no matter how dark his eyes are with desire as they peer into hers, no matter how desperately he kisses her sweet mouth, groaning soft obscenities and her name between each stolen kiss. Grinning wickedly against her mouth, his fingers relent their teasing, sliding back down to her cunt, tips tracing the heat slit of her entrance with quick, rhythmic strokes, grinding and rubbing against her cunt with an almost zealous desperation. It’s then that his fingers close around her wrist, as his mouth ducks to return to lavishing her neck with suckling kisses and playful nips, guiding it to the front of his slack. ]
Feel that? [ His voice is a low, purring murmur against her pulse point as he presses her fingers flush against the aching bulge in his slacks, makes her feel how hard he is, how thick is, how his cock throbs even through layers of fabric. Sanji’s hips give a greedy little buck, grinding the considerable fact of his cock against her fingers and palm, letting her feel him even more. The way he groans— low, desperate, almost needy— is muffled by her neck, but there’s no denying how badly he wants her. ] Feel how fucking thick you’ve got my cock, Tifa? That’s all you. Wanna fuck you that badly, wanna sink it all the way inside your gorgeous cunt until you come all over it. [ And so much more, none of which he should admit, given the circumstances, but fuck if he doesn’t want her. ] But only if you want that, yeah? I can use my fingers instead, as many times as you need. [ They curl, then, as he slowly sinks three long, thick fingers inside her, letting her feel how they stretch her, how they slip inside so damn easily thanks to just how slick she is. ] See? I’ll make you feel so damn good no matter what you want.
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but it isn't words alone that he gives her, not when his fingers provide a fierce relentless grind, providing her a firm serving hand to buck against, a solid weight pressed to her skin, thick fingers massaging the length of her folds. between that and his dirty phrases, her own whimper out without filter, moans bouncing against the elevator's walls as she begs for more.
it's difficult to say much else, while her world seems to be spinning, while she's so dizzy with the pleasure he's giving her that she'd waited such a long stretch across the resort for, all the way from the cardinal. especially as his lips continue to chase her like a messy dance, not entirely coordinated but entirely caring either, like any grazing pass of their mouths is enough to sate for a second before another kiss is needed. she can feel the swelling of her own lips, the lipstick likely plenty smudged by now, but all her care is solely on the sensation of his invasive tongue as she tries to lap at it with her own whenever he thrusts it into her mouth, swallowing the endless withdrawal of moans from her throat.
and then he takes her hand down to the front of his pants and she gasps a soft sound as she feels the thick bulging press of his erection nudging against her palm.
between his dirty confessions (wanna fuck you that badly) and the sudden penetration from a triple set of fingers directly into her cunt, tifa isn't sure what draws out the louder moan, her other hand clutching tight to the back of his neck as she rolls her hips against that desired stimulation, trying to figure out how to even straighten her own thoughts while he's fucking her with his fingers. ]
Sanji, I— I'm— [ it isn't a gentle massage or maybe she's supposed to be a better tease about it, but there's a shamelessness in the way her hand begins to rub over his crotch, fingers wrapping to map out its outline with ease, tracing the shape with firm strokes. ] I want your cock, Sanji, I want— fuck, I want it in me. [ her voice is shaky on nearly every word, trying to breathe it out while she's being stretched by his fingers. but she has enough coordination for her to reach up, blindly trying to figure out how to work open his pants with a single hand before bringing down the other to hastily join the task, her eyes peering up and down between her working fingers and the dark hunger of his gaze. ] I want to feel how you want me. [ an honest thought, with such a strangeness that she doesn't understand, to feel this burst of hungry, erotic curiosity around this man she barely knows. giving a forceful tug to pry open his pants once the zipper is lowered, she looks to his eyes, half in apology, half in affirmation for his allowance as she reaches in past the layers, feeling for the bare fullness of his shaft to guide out his cock.
she swallows, the squeeze of her soaking cunt around his pressed fingers signaling the insatiable desire that rises in holding that thickness in her hand, thumb rubbing to feel that beading smear of precum at the tip of its head. ] You're so— you're so hard. [ she presses her mouth to his again, with needy desperation in the chase of it. ] Tell me again, please? Tell me you're so hard because of me. Tell me you want me wet like this around your cock. I want— want to feel you hard like this inside me.
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For all that he could rebuke himself, that feels like a fool's errand. Perhaps it's greedy to follow the urgent whisperings of his desire— to suddenly make her confront the reality of his own arousal, to press her palm shamelessly against the broad underside of his cock, hips urgently rubbing it against her hand— but judging by her reaction, he doesn't think it is. His lips curl in a wild grin as she fucks back against the deep penetration of his fingers, pressing down with such eagerness that he nearly moans with delight at how deep she takes them.
Or maybe it’s not the heated clench of her cunt soaking his fingers that makes his breath hitch and a pleased sound rumble in the back of his throat, his mouth messily stamping greedy kisses against her lips. For all that his focus—razor-sharp in its intensity— is on the way her body reacts to his, yielding to his touches and kisses, pleading for more, there’s a dull awareness of how she touches him, of the rough, unpracticed way her hand massages and squeezes the considerable fact of his cock through his slacks. And the truth is that it feels wonderful, that her utter shamelessness makes him want to moan, makes him want to rock his hips and whimper and plead for more. Sanji doesn’t, but there’s no stopping the too pleased groan that rumbles deep in his chest, the hissed fuck as she caresses and feels the length and heft of him through the fabric, the unrelenting way his wrist fucks his fingers deep and fast into the greedy clutch of her shuddering cunt.
He’s greedy, too, and doesn’t even have the mark to blame. ]
Yeah? [ The question is a low purr against her mouth as he kisses her again, tongue licking back into the familiar heat of her mouth, fingers grinding deep as the flat of his thumb strums the stiffened bud of her clit— once, twice, thrice— as he meets her gaze, basking in the heated glow, free hand cupping her cheek with a gentleness that contrasts the unrelenting way his fingers thrust deep and true. Anticipation blossoms low in his gut as her fingers change tasks, no longer touching him but gleefully working to undo the layers of cloth that separate his bare cock from her fingers. That realization makes him swallow dryly as his forehead rests intimately against hers, gaze unbroken, lips brushing an endless parade of quick kisses against hers. ] I’ll give it to you, gorgeous, promise. You’ve been so damn patient, you deserve whatever you want. If you wanna be fucked by my thick cock— [ Silence is intended to follow, but instead, it’s a low, keening groan of delight as the calloused pads of her fingers draw him out, shaft desperately hard— flushed and eager and leaking— as his hips shudder, unashamed to rub his length against her fingers. ]
Just for you, Tifa. Fuck— I’m so fucking hard, it’s gonna drive me crazy if I don’t fuck you soon and it’s all your fault. [ There’s no hesitation to give her what she asks for, voice pitching low, the strain of holding back obvious. Grinning against her mouth, he kisses her harder, kisses her like his life depends on it, the fingers in her cunt curling, probing for the sweet spot as he ruts them into her faster, faster, faster— fast enough that the obscenely wet sound of fucking fills the small elevator compartment— thumb frantically swiping her throbbing clit with each deep press. ] I wanna feel your cunt soaking my cock so bad, lovely, wanna feel you tight and clenching as I fuck every inch into you, as I make you moan and writhe and come all over my cock. I just— I want you, you know? Want to make you feel good, want to make you moan my name, want to make you come so hard, you won’t ever forget it. [ Every word is huskily murmured against her lips, voice low, nearly a purr, as his fingers stroke her cheek. ] All because it’s you. Wanna fuck you and fill you up with my cum, too, make a proper mess of your pretty cunt. If you’ll let me.
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and yet, it's the inexplicable state of her aroused body that had somehow propelled them forward, brought them about to this, a mess of shoved clothing, her panties beginning to stretch from the way they catch in the midst of her eagerly parted thighs, his own pants and underwear shoved down nearly as low at his crotch so the fullness of his cock could jut out freely for the grasp of her palm. who am i, she thinks, knowing herself far more timid than this, far more reluctant to entertain a man's attraction in her direction, and yet she finds herself so hungry in this moment, practically lecherous in the way she curves her wrist to stroke her curved fingers along his impressive length, greedy for how thick he is within her hand — and the knowledge that it's her own insatiable desire that's made him this way. ]
You're so big for me, Sanji— so big, you're gonna be so tight inside me. I want to feel it— wanna know how much this big cock will stretch me when you fuck me. [ she follows his lead with the lewd language, her cheeks so flush with heat that she isn't feeling sensible enough to even know if they're too cheesy from their lips, if she's just spouting nonsense that can be heard in a porno. but how could she possibly say anything else, when these words alone can describe the extent of promiscuity she's feeling, how she begins to jerk his fist with an ease that's allowed only by the excess of his beading precum leaking over the curve of his swollen head, allowing for a slippery palm that feels out the girth of what's meant to be stuffed full and deep inside her body, rubbing him down to further excite that already interested stiffness. or when three lengthy fingers begin to jut with speedily hurried thrusts in the depths of her cunt and she's left with nothing but the crude rhythmic thoughts of sanji, sanji, sanji, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me—
and that's precisely what he's doing. despite the promise of giving her his cock, his hand seems to be putting in plenty of the work already, as if the slippery slick of her soaked pussy seems to cling from her skin to his, each outward pull springing him back with quick rhythmic thrusts, triple fingers fucking her so intimately that she can feel a heightening spiral that begins to feel incredibly familiar.
his thumb latches at her clit with unforgiving strokes, his words muttered deliciously against her lips between every filthy, spit-ridden kiss, lashing tongues sloppy with heat, the hand at her cheek somehow one of the most gentle caresses she's felt from a man, caught in the midst of such a lewd atmosphere and yet exactly what she needs to keep her sturdy against his body. if she thought her own words were unabashedly vulgar, sanji takes it even further as each filthy sentence hitches her breath with small gasps against his mouth from their delightful promises, her mind spinning as they pair with the slick stimulation of his rutting hand between her legs. it becomes that much more difficult to maintain her own strokes to his cock, the pumping motions becoming more staggered even as her fingers squeeze and rock to continue to smear the precum clinging to her palm. with the crook of his fingers in turn, thicker than her own, better in feeling them plunged to stretch at her walls, she can feel that repeated graze of strokes that has her lips panting shorter, quicker breaths. ]
S-Sanji, I'm— I'm already— [ despite his spoken words in desiring her to come around his cock, tifa knows she won't be able to wait that long. not now, not when he talks of filling her up with his cum (fuck, yes, yes, please, she thinks, the sheer imagery alone of it spilling in her cunt making her moan an elongated noise of pleasure) just as those bent knuckles stroke deeply at the perfect angle, heightening her to a depth of sensation she isn't even sure she's felt before, not like this, not this hard—
and when she comes around his fingers, it isn't with a mere squeeze of greedy walls clinging to those digits. even with all the sopping wetness already dragged and smeared by that expert fingering, an additional gushing squirt soaks over his hand, an involuntary wet spurt timed alongside a soft, needy cry against his lips, her hips jutting without control to fuck herself through the sudden takeover of an empowered climax. ]