Chapter Text
At Luffy's birthday party, he introduces Ace to his friend in three simple words, "This is Sanji."
He knows about Sanji. Everyone who knows Luffy knows about Sanji.
Luffy talks nonstop, retracing every step of his day at dinner time, starting from the second he opens his eyes to the moment he sits at the table. Of course, Ace listens to every word, every side tangent, keeps up with each topic switch. He mentions Sanji briefly in conversation.
He's a good kickboxer and an even better cook. He can be found with a half-lit cigarette dangling between his teeth, and he's nice. Real nice. So generous. Luffy says so about half a dozen times.
When Luffy relays a story, he starts with meaningless things until he builds up to the important bit, sometimes leaving out valuable information if he finds it unnecessary to mention. Luffy fails to tell Ace the most crucial detail about him, something he wouldn't have known if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes.
Sanji's beautiful.
When it comes to appreciating the appearance of other men, Ace's compliments fall between handsome and hot, but the man standing before him is downright angelic. He has such a uniquely pretty face, neatly trimmed facial hair, a long, elegant nose, a swirly brow that makes him dizzy when he tries to follow the loop, and a waist so small, Ace could engulf it in his hands if he really wanted to. And his eyes—one shows while the other is hidden behind a curtain of golden hair, but that one eye, brown and rich, pulls him in like a current.
Time slows as Sanji's sharp eye scans over him methodically, taking in his form. A wave of shame passes through Ace. Already, he was imagining what Luffy's friend would look like unclothed and in his bed, and he hadn't even said hello.
After giving him a once-over twice, Sanji meets his steadfast gaze, his lips warping into a warm, greeting smile, and he offers an outstretched hand. "So, you're Ace?"
"One and only." Ace grins back, twice as big, and takes Sanji's hand, gripping it tighter than necessary. "Luffy told you about me?"
"All he wants to talk about is his big brother."
"Same with you. I can see why now." Ace slows the handshake down until they're just holding hands, relishing in the feeling of warm skin on skin.
For a split second, Sanji's face shifts. His curled brow raises, kissable lips flattening into a straight line, but then he masks it with another polite smile, loosening his grip until Ace hesitantly drops his hand. His palm turns ice cold the instant he lets go, yearning for the return of a touch he only just now had the pleasure of receiving.
If he had to describe the feel of Sanji's hand in one word, it'd be delicate. Soft and fragile. For someone who uses his hands for a living, Ace expected that he'd have some calluses. Rough, bumpy, blistered fingers from all those days spent chopping vegetables and gripping skillet handles. But no, his fingertips were pillowy, skimming Ace's coarse knuckles like he had the power to soften his tough skin.
What he wouldn't give to feel those supple hands traveling all over him. He wonders if they'd feel that silky wrapped around his—
"You have to meet Sabo, too," Luffy says, cutting their meeting short.
Ace was so distracted by the beauty in front of him that he forgot Luffy was still here. He grabs Sanji's wrist and leads him off in another direction. Sanji allows himself to be dragged away, but before he can disappear out of Ace's line of sight, he turns his head and lifts his free hand.
"It was nice meeting you."
He smiles sweetly as he waves goodbye, showing Ace what Luffy meant when he said Sanji was nice. He is really nice. Easy on the eyes, too.
Ace has to sleep with him. Have him just for a second, a moment, a night. Rip the buttons off his shirt, redden his skin, pull on his hair, study the face he makes when he reaches his peak. He shouldn't. His brothers' friends are off limits. Not once had he ever played with the idea of fooling around with any of them, but there's something so tantalizing about Sanji. He's the forbidden fruit on the Eden tree, tempting him with the delicious promise of a good time.
He scores his number later that night.
It isn't hard. He knew the right words to say, how to smile, how to get someone else to smile. He can turn on the charm like a switch, crank it up, turn it down accordingly.
Sanji is easy to impress. Guarded, blunt, a bit standoffish, but he has those love-me eyes Ace recognizes so well from his own reflection.
He knows how this will end.
A couple days of flirty texts, maybe a phone call or two. An invitation, some sort of suggestion that they should hang out one-on-one. Then, somehow, someway, Sanji's clothes will end up strewed across his bedroom floor. And that'd be that.
It's like fishing in a way. Bait, reel in, catch, then release.
That was the plan.
A friendship with Sanji wasn't on his agenda, but—after weeks of hanging out with him, going over to his place, inviting Sanji back to his, various outings around the city, and accompanying Sanji when he ran his weekly errands—Ace is smack dab in the middle of the friendzone. Things aren't supposed to play out this way. It's so far from his original goal, his dream of getting Sanji to strip for him. He should be pissed it didn't work out in his favor.
Yet, for some strange reason, he's satisfied with this. He likes it.
Likes being around Sanji, likes listening to him rant about demanding customers, recounting his day, and rambling on about new recipes he wants to try out. He likes hearing Sanji laugh at his well-timed jokes and goofy attempts at flirting, and he enjoys the way his face lights up when he's talking about cooking. Ace lets him go on and on about meals he prepared for him specifically to try, with a genuine smile on his face.
It's been so long since he met someone and smiled, not because it feels like the correct expression, but because it's simply out of his control. Being in close proximity to Sanji has the corners of his mouth lifting without willing it.
He likes Sanji. As a person, a friend. He's too good for all the filthy acts circulating in Ace's head. Too precious to be dirtied by him. Besides his playful flirting and light teasing, he doesn't try anything with Sanji. Ace can count the number of times they've touched on one hand, and even then, all their physical contact has been light, accidental grazes. When he's feeling brave, he slings a lazy arm across Sanji's shoulders, playing off his touchiness as excessive friendliness.
This isn't like Ace. He isn't the type to hesitate touching someone when the attraction is undeniably there. He's behaving like a middle schooler with a crush—not that Ace has a crush on Sanji. It isn't like he's in love with the guy or anything. Ace just thinks about him a lot, brings him up in casual conversations with friends, sleeps a little earlier in hopes he'll see him the next day, and eagerly awaits a call or text from him. Doesn't mean he has feelings for him.
Okay, so maybe Ace does have a little crush on Sanji, but that's to be expected. Sanji's too great a guy not to crush on. He's what a perfect being looks like. Every one of Sanji's friends is probably a little bit in love with him. Ace liking him doesn't mean anything. He doesn't want to date Sanji. Doesn't really want to fuck him anymore either.
Sex ruins everything.
Before, it would've been fine when Ace knew very little about him, and Sanji knew even less about Ace. Things are too complicated now. He has something to lose.
Only once had Ace been in a real, serious relationship. With a sweet boy who didn't see him as he was, but as a kinder, more emotionally mature version of himself. He saw him for what Ace could be, what he wanted him to be.
He dated Yamato for 4 months. Four joyful months, and it came to an abrupt end when their clothes came off. Yamato touched his bare skin, and it felt like he was reaching inside Ace and yanking out his innards. He was naked in every form of the word, stretched out bare on the bed, relying on darkness to cloak his vulnerability. Every light was switched off. The blinds were closed, curtains pulled shut, and still, Yamato saw him.
Hovering above him, Yamato looked down at Ace as if his eyes could make out every secret he's ever kept. He placed his palm above Ace's heart like he already knew its shape.
Ace knew then, after their conjoined bodies separated back into two and Yamato could no longer meet his eyes, that the joy they found together was gone. Being naked under him had exposed what was always there, lurking in the shadows, what Ace had tried so desperately to hide. Yamato saw it in him. It confirmed what Ace already knew, what he learned long ago.
He could never truly love anyone, because no one could truly love him.
They'd have to know him to do so, and Ace didn't want to be known. Not extensively, the way true lovers should. He didn't want to pour his heart out, empty his mind, let someone peek into the depths of his soul. He didn't want anyone to glance inside of him, to peel back the layers, and find what was underneath. He was ashamed of his heart, of its emptiness. He tried to mask it the best he could, through jokes and smiles, playfulness and rebellion.
That's why, no matter how much he likes Sanji—no matter how much he dreams of him at night, weaving stories of a future where their hands could touch and Ace wouldn't shake when they intertwined—he can't fuck him. It'd destroy this innocent, tender thing he's been building without trying. Now that he's got it, he can't let it fall apart, crumble under his fingertips. Fingertips that were grimy and jagged in comparison to Sanji's.
Ace refuses to soil him with these hands.
"Come on, let me win you a bear." Ace points to a ball-toss booth where stuffed animals hang above the targets.
He's been begging Sanji for a week straight to come with him to the county fair. He could've gone with Luffy or Sabo, it's usually something all three of them do together, but this year, he was hard set on bringing Sanji.
It isn't a date.
"Those games are rigged." Sanji states, dismissing the idea with a wave, "Don't waste your money."
"I'm not wasting it if I'm spending it on you."
Sanji breaks eye contact, glancing off into the crowded distance like he's looking for something, but really, it's his way of ignoring the color bleeding into his cheeks. He's so cute. Too cute, and Ace is fighting back the urge to reach out and touch him. One graze is all he needs.
Ace clears his throat, attempting to ground himself, "You know what we haven't done yet?"
"We've been to every food stall already." Sanji returns his gaze, his face slowly reverting to its normal complexion.
Ace chuckles, "I was gonna say ride the Ferris wheel."
"Oh," Sanji looks up towards the big spinning wheel in the sky, gulping, "But it's so high up."
"Kinda the point." He nudges him with his elbow, "C'mon, you've never been on one?"
Sanji shakes his head. "It’s a disaster waiting to happen."
"Now we've gotta."
Sanji groans like a child being told no, receiving a hearty laugh from Ace in response.
"Scared?" He teases, "I'll hold your hand if you need me to."
"I don't need you to do anything," Sanji grumbles, treading ahead toward the ride.
Ace follows suit, closely behind, "Can I do it anyway?"
Sanji pauses mid-step, turning slowly to peer at him, trying to make out if Ace is being serious or just teasing him again. Ace extends his hand to him, showing that it's a genuine request, and silently, Sanji sinks his fingers between his, clasping their hands together.
It's a lengthy line they have to wait in, and while they stand there, gradually stepping forward as the people ahead of them are seated into the ride, they're still holding hands, like it's a natural thing for them.
Maybe it is a date.
After an eternity of waiting and making useless conversation, it's their turn to get on, and Ace gets in first, pulling Sanji in after him. He's squeezing Ace's hand tight, on the border of cutting off his circulation, but he couldn't bring himself to give a damn. At least Sanji's hand was placed firmly in his. His soft, soft hand. He's been longing to feel its grasp again, to be warmed by its gentleness.
The carrier wobbles as it ascends, leisurely getting higher and higher, and with every foot it rises, Sanji's grip eases.
"See," Ace says, "Not so scary, is it?"
"Shut up, I wasn't scared." Sanji denies, though he stops himself from looking down, "Just didn't wanna risk falling."
"You're safe with me."
The words sound corny leaving his mouth, but the corners of Sanji's lips nudge upwards, and he gives his hand an appreciative squeeze.
The sun glows a little dimmer, lethargic and unhurried in its pursuit to join the horizon. The sky, previously awash in bright blue, morphs into twinkling apricot. They're as high as the pinkened clouds now, and as they descend, Sanji can't tear his eyes away from the setting sun.
"Beautiful," He sighs, all fear leaving his body.
Ace swallows, "Yeah,"
Though it's not the sunset he's fixated on. Sanji's face lights up with childlike wonder, and the sight of him is prettier than any of the eight thousand plus sunsets that Ace has witnessed in his lifetime. He'd give up the sun if it meant he could spend the rest of his dark days staring at that sightly expression.
Without warning, Sanji's head drops right on his shoulder blade, the pointy tip of his nose nuzzling his neck. Ace stiffens, sucking in a sharp, startled breath. Sanji glances at him with a soft, liquid gaze and nibbles at the corner of his bottom lip. Ace's eyes drop to his mouth, zoning in on full pink lips that would align perfectly with his.
He pushes the idea out of his head. He can't. He won't.
But Sanji, sweet, pure Sanji, takes his other hand and presses Ace's palm to his cheek. His face is as soft as his hands, and without realizing, Ace strokes his thumb across his feathery cheek while Sanji holds his hand in place. His eyes fall shut, lips parting slightly as if he's silently communicating to Ace that it's okay, that he can go for it. It's enough to crumble his resolve.
Unfortunately for him, as he goes to lean in, the Ferris wheel stops mid-air, marking the end of the ride. It snaps Ace out of his daze, and he yanks his hand away like he touched a hot stove. Sanji takes this as rejection. He picks his head back up, lets go of the hand he's holding, puts a little space between them, and mutters something, but all Ace can hear is the sound of his heart plummeting.
When they reach the ground and the doors open, Sanji lifts the metal safety bar keeping them in place, and steps out. Ace joins him, and they walk away with no destination in mind.
He can't utter a word, too scared to address what just happened and what it meant. Nothing, probably. Hopefully. If Ace can pretend there wasn't a brief moment where their lips almost touched, if he can force a smile and act like nothing's changed, then maybe they'll bounce back. Maybe it's not ruined yet.
Sanji speaks first, interrupting Ace's panicked internal monologue to say, "Take me home."
His tone is quiet, unreadable. Ace prides himself on being highly perceptive, reading people like an open book. He can tell more in a glance than others could in a lifetime, but right now, as Sanji's looking at him, waiting for a response, he doesn't know what the hell he could be thinking.
Though Ace paints himself as a carefree, open-minded man, the list of things he doesn't like is pages long, and at the top of that list was the unknown. He can't stand ignorance, not knowing something, not having an immediate solution to a problem. He doesn't know what face Sanji is making, can't predict what's on the forefront of his mind just by peering into his eyes, and that scares him.
He needs to know if he fucked up, and if so, can he fix it somehow? He needs to fix it and fast. Ace wants the night to continue. He wants to spend more time with Sanji and compensate for pulling away at such a vital moment, but he nods instead of voicing that. The night is coming to a close anyway. He should accept it.
They head off to the parking lot, hand in hand again. Sanji must not hate him if he's still touching him like this. Ace's hand is trembling in his grasp. He can feel it shaking against Sanji's still palm. It's beyond his control, like everything else.
Upon reaching his car, Ace goes to open the passenger door for him, but before he can grab the handle, he's pushed back first against it. Sanji's on him in an instant, index finger hooking Ace's belt loop, and pulling him flush to his chest. His gasp is cut off by a pair of velvet lips smashing against his. Sanji grabs at him, desperate, needy. His brain can't catch up, and by the time he registers that yes, Sanji is kissing him, the moment is gone. Sanji's pulling away, all red-faced and shy, covering the bottom half of his face with his arm.
"Sorry." He mumbles into the soft pit of his elbow, avoiding Ace's eyes.
This entire time, Ace had been thinking about kissing Sanji, about touching him and taking him in his arms, but he never stopped to think about Sanji doing it to him. His desire seemed so one-sided. He thought he'd have to convince Sanji to want it too. With a new surge of confidence, Ace slides a hand around Sanji's waist.
"Don't be," He says, stroking down the indent in his back where his spine starts, "I liked it."
"Really?" Sanji asks, dropping his arm.
Instead of responding, he pulls Sanji in again, bringing their lips together for the second time, though it feels like they've kissed countless times before this, with the way their mouth fit together like puzzle pieces. Ace cups his face in his hand, languidly moving his lips against Sanji's, while his other hand strokes the small of his back.
Sanji is holding onto him by the shoulders as tightly as he held his hand on the Ferris wheel, like he was still scared of falling. Ace feels the same way, fearing that his knees will give out from under him. His legs begin to shake, and he has to lean his whole weight onto the car to stop himself from collapsing altogether.
Finally, he's kissing Sanji like he wanted to the first night they met. And now he's mad at himself for not doing this sooner. So much time wasted without their lips touching, but he supposes they can make up for that loss.
So, he kisses Sanji like it's the last time. He kisses Sanji like he's water in an isolated desert, and Ace just spent days dehydrated. He kisses him like he doesn't know anything but how to kiss him. And it feels fucking fantastic.
He reels back to catch his breath, inhaling deeply, and questions in a hoarse voice, "This okay?"
"Yes," Sanji breathes.
Ace kisses him once more, this time slipping his tongue between his lips, and Sanji welcomes the intrusion with a muted moan. Their tongues dance together, tangling up as they explore each other's mouths. His skin buzzes with warmth, and it travels throughout his whole body, causing a headrush.
Only when Ace remembers they're still standing in the parking lot, surrounded by other cars with the fair goers nearby, does he develop enough shame to pull away for good. When they part, a trail of saliva follows momentarily before breaking as their mouths separate.
He presses his forehead against Sanji's, panting, and gently drags his hand down his cheek. He thumbs at his spit-slick bottom lip, still in a perpetual state of shock. Ace has a feeling tonight will be a sleepless night. After he drops Sanji off, he'll undoubtedly lie in bed, wide awake and replaying tonight’s events.
Sanji takes his thumb between his teeth, biting down on the fingertip. Not hard enough to induce pain, but enough to where the pressure ignites a fire in his veins.
"Fuck," He whispers, trying to laugh, but it comes out airy and pathetic sounding. "You're killin' me here."
Sanji smiles cruelly, releases his thumb, and orders, "Come home with me."
Ace doesn't need to be told twice.
The trip back to Sanji's is a blur of flurry streetlights and hot touches. His mind is racing so much that he can't recall most of the ride, only that their hands remained interlocked the entire way. He's positive that he ran a few red lights, which would explain how the 15-minute trip turned into the longest 8 minutes of his life.
He's way too excited by the prospects of Sanji's offer. Ace wants him more than he's ever wanted anything in his twenty-two years on earth. In just two months, Sanji has become a necessity for him. He needs him as much as he needs food and water.
Their hands only part when they leave the car, rejoining almost immediately after as he drags Ace inside his apartment building. He can sense how badly Sanji's itching for this, too. He ditches the elevator in favor of running up the flight of stairs leading to the fourth floor. They giggle like maniacs as they race up the steps, bumping into each other, almost tripping in their rush.
Sanji drops his hand to retrieve his keys from his pants pocket. As soon as the door is unlocked and cracked open, Sanji grabs Ace's wrist and yanks him inside his pitch-black home. He's shoved up against the door, his head bumping against the hardwood, but the dull pain settling in isn't the least bit of a concern right now, not when Sanji's lips are on him again.
It's different from when they kissed in the parking lot. Right away, Sanji's pace is urgent, like they're under a time limit, hands roaming Ace's body fervently. Ace can work with this, but he'd prefer to take his time with Sanji.
To undress him slowly and drag his tongue across every inch of his creamy skin until he's begging, pleading with Ace to take it further. And he would, gradually, until tears were staining the corners of his eyes. He knows it’s wrong, that it’d sound fucked up if he said it aloud, but he wants to corrupt Sanji, turn his innocence into impurity. He wants to be his first and only.
"You sure love pushing me around, huh?" Ace jokes when Sanji's lips move from his mouth to his neck, peppering his skin with quick pecks.
"I don't hear you complaining." He hums, continuing down the cords of his neck, leaving bites in his path.
In Ace's fantasies, he was the one doing all the touching. Allowing Sanji to take the reins feels a little off, but when his teeth dig into Ace's pulse, too deep to leave his flesh unmarked, he doesn't mind all that much.
However, that tiny voice in his head screams at him to stop this before it goes too far. Before Sanji takes Ace's clothes off and sees him for who he truly is. He comforts his anxieties by telling himself that Sanji is different. His feelings for Sanji are different, he's never felt this way about anyone or anything. Sanji will be the one to break this curse of seeking out intimacy only to hightail it and run at the offer of gentleness from another human being.
Everything will be fine. They'll be fine. They'll come out of this on the other side, and Sanji won't see the cracks in him, and Ace will still like him all the same.
Sanji's hands travel down further until his fingers run along his belt buckle. With restless hands, he undoes his belt, pulling it free from the loop, and at the same time, drops to his knees. Ace's eyes widen, grabbing Sanji's wrists as he fidgets with his fly.
"You don't have to-" A loud shushing sound quiets him.
Sanji shakes his hands loose, batting Ace's away, "I wanna make you feel good,"
That simple admission causes a rush of heat to swell in the pit of his stomach, flushing his cheeks. The last thing Ace wants is for Sanji to defile himself for him, he isn't worth getting on his knees for, but he can't ignore the hazy arousal starting to cloud his mind and judgment. Ace can't refuse him, even if he knows he might come to regret it. He needs this so badly that he's salivating at the mere idea.
Sanji tugs his jeans down, leaning forward to mouth at Ace's stiff cock through his briefs, "Can I?" He asks, tucking his fringe behind his ear.
The windows cast light in the dark apartment, brightening it only slightly, but it's enough for Ace to see Sanji batting his doe eyes up at him. Under the silver tinge of the moonlight, his golden hair appears as a halo atop his head.
Sanji will be the one to save his heart, he's sure of it.
"Knock yourself out."
Pulling his underwear down, Sanji's slender fingers wrap around the length of his cock, and the sensation is exactly how Ace imagined it'd be. Satiny, so warm it's sweltering. Heat courses through his veins as his breathing picks up speed. He's nearly out of breath, and Sanji's only touching him faintly, stroking from the base to the tip, messily wet with pre-cum. Ace expects him to start with timid, kitten licks.
Instead, he darts his tongue out, dragging it against the underside of his cock before taking him deep in his mouth like he's on autopilot. Like he's done this before. Sanji doesn't even bother sinking down inch by inch. He takes him to the back of his throat all at once without even a wince or gag, cheeks hollowing out. It pulls the most guttural sound from Ace, and his head knocks against the door as he throws it back, jaw hanging open.
His hands scurry to find purchase, and he ends up gripping the doorknob with one hand while the other plunges into Sanji's blond locks. Immediately, he sets a fast pace, purposefully choosing a speed that's sure to have Ace coming down his throat at any second. Sanji's moaning as he bobs his head, up and down and down and up, like he's the one getting his dick sucked.
Ace is writhing against the door frame, trying his absolute hardest to keep himself upright. His teeth submerge into his bottom lip, a poor effort made to minimize his whiny cries of pleasure, but it's utterly useless. Especially with the way Sanji's graceful fingers are held tight around his shaft, tongue wrapping rings around the tip.
"Shit, keep doing that..." Ace draws out, chest heaving, head tilted heavenward while he closes his eyes.
Sanji does exactly that, continuing to draw circles with his wet tongue. Though muffled, his moans increase in frequency, and Ace makes the grave mistake of looking down.
Sanji's making eye contact, his gaze never wavering as his pretty lips are stretched thin around Ace's cock. His legs are spread, free hand palming at his dick, trapped by the confines of denim. Pink flushes his face, bleeding down to his neck, and those gorgeous brown eyes glint off the moonlight, pupils dilated like he's getting high off of this.
Ace's eyes roll to the back of his head, and he accidentally yanks Sanji's hair as his self-control slips away. Sanji doesn't hiss or yelp, instead he mewls. It comes out wet and garbled, sending vibrations straight up Ace's cock all the way down to his balls. He no longer tries to quiet himself, aware of his noisy gasps and whines, but he's too dazed to care. He can barely hear himself, more focused on the sloppy suction noises, but he knows he must be saying something. He feels his mouth moving, probably letting out a string of curses or broken iterations of Sanji's name.
His hips move on their own after a particularly long and hard suck, rocking deeper into Sanji's warm, sopping mouth. When Sanji doesn't protest, Ace does it again, and again, until he's holding his head in place, and fucking his throat. Sanji repositions his hands on Ace's thighs, holding on steady as he lets himself be used as a fuck toy.
His pulse elevates, breathing coming out as loud, ragged pants. The higher and higher his orgasm builds, the tighter his grip on Sanji's hair gets. He's pleading, low, jumbled, pathetic words escape him like a stream of water. And then—and fucking then, Sanji's upper teeth come down, lightly scraping across Ace's dick. The threat of Sanji biting down, of hurting him irreparably, drives him over the edge.
Ace holds Sanji to him, his nose pressed flat against his pelvis, and squeezes his eyes shut so hard that sunspots appear on his eyelids. His entire body shudders as he comes, and if he weren't holding on tight to the door frame, he'd be on the floor with Sanji.
He drops his arms to his sides, slumping back while he tries to regain control of his body again. Sanji leaves one last kiss on the tip of his cock before standing on his feet. He's face-to-face with Ace now, and when Ace cracks open his eyes, he catches Sanji sticking his tongue out, presenting his clean mouth.
Jesus fucking christ.
Ace tucks his wet dick back in his briefs, bending down to pull his pants up, not bothering to reloop his belt. Sanji stares at him expectedly, and Ace doesn't know what to say. The words don't exist to him. His mind is empty, his body hollow, like someone took a ladle and scooped out his insides.
But there is one pressing question he needs to get off his mind.
"How are you so good at that?"
Sanji smiles, taking it as praise rather than a genuine inquiry, "Practice makes perfect."
Ace's breathing falters as he asks, "How much practice are we talking?"
"Enough." Sanji shrugs, leaning into him, hands coming up to rest on Ace's hips. "You liked it though, right?"
"Yeah." He admits, as if it wasn't apparent from his nonstop moaning.
"You like me?"
Ace recognizes this barren feeling in his chest. It's that familiar disconnect that comes after sharing an intimate moment with someone. It's like a light switch. As his orgasm came and went, so did his emotional capacity to bear another's presence. Sanji's hands on him are nauseating, the vulnerability he's expressing towards Ace even more so.
Suddenly, Sanji isn't his perfect virginal angel anymore. He's just like everyone else. Love hungry, perverted. Eats when he's starving, sleeps when he's tired, fucks when he's horny. There's probably more sides to him waiting to surface. Sides that don't fit Ace's perception of him at all.
Does he even know Sanji?
Ace, for the first time, notices how uneven the strip of hair above Sanji's lip is. He sees his crooked nose, gawks at his weird eyebrows. The real Sanji, the one hidden behind Ace's rose-tinted gaze, appears before him, and he looks disgustingly human.