[017 || Voice]

[serving_love]

[It's getting to be late in the evening when Sanji opens his journal, and for a moment there's only silence. When he speaks, his voice is low, almost like he's talking to himself more than anything.]

Seems like the shitty end is in sight... Feels like it, anyway. Like it won't be much longer.

[He falls quiet again for a beat or two, and then there's a soft exhale before his tone shifts a bit and he becomes more direct.]

We're heading to Isla Empieza. As soon as Meep has a path for us to take, we're going in.

Guess we'll see the rest of you idiots there?


[Action option: He's in the galley, chair tipped back as he sits at the table and stares up at the ceiling with nothing but an overflowing ashtray in front of him and a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth.]

Comments

[yourotherleft]

[His eye follows that small movement, and a low groan slips out in reaction. If he had a third hand he'd assist (and also santoryuu would be so much easier) but it's just as incredible watching Sanji touch himself. Zoro can't help but lick his lips in anticipation. God, where to even start?

Well, preparation should be mostly, er, prepared, so maybe there. He pulls one hand back, but leaves his fingers plunged deep for another moment, crooking them and stroking inside, as he gropes and fumbles for the oil again to get himself ready. He really gets the saying about aching with need, because he literally is, he's so hard it hurts and it's like his body knows that the only way to ease the pain is to be inside Sanji, to fill him up all the way. It's a good thing Zoro is mostly ambidextrous or that oil would be all over the floor, his thighs, the table's edge, Sanji...etc. As it is, he dribbles a little across his skin as he finds himself and covers himself just enough.]