Anything I want, huh? [ His lips might be hovering mere inches from hers— close enough that Sanji can still feel the warmth rolling off them, inviting and sweet and more than a little tempting— but he still thinks the wickedly smug way his lips curve into a sly grin is obvious. Months of being trapped here together— of the easy, shameless intimacy that's built up between them, each day whittling down the barriers that would have made it impossible back on the Merry— have ensured that he's grown familiar with every inch of her, that nothing about the way her body presses against the broad, rigid plane of his chest is unfamiliar. How many nights have they spent just like this, bodies pressed together in a way that only feels right as the darkness surrounds them and ushers in sleep?
He never tires of it. Not in the hazy bliss that follows a long night of sex and passion where they're both left with slick skin, swollen lips, and sweet, shameless babble spilling from their lips in a tangle of limbs and exhaustion and not in moments like this, where every sense is alight with her. ] That's a damn dangerous offer. Lots of things I want, but all of them involve you, gorgeous.
[ Laughing gently as he sets her down on the countertop, there's not even an attempt to hide the appreciative look that roams over her body, greedily drinking in every detail of her that his gifts highlight. It makes the way he grins at her a moment later take on an edge of wildness, a hint of hunger lurking there.
That he wants her is obvious, because Sanji always wants her, because if there's one thing he's learned since arriving here, it's how to be direct in the things he really, truly desires, the things he wants with his whole heart. And it's a testament to how much he wants this date to proceed— to spend the afternoon spoiling her— that rather than crashing his lips against hers again in a daze of hunger and lust, he just shoots her another grin, one hand idly drumming its fingers over the delicate lace of a stocking high on her thigh. ]
Tempted as I am to say you're the appetizer, main course, and dessert, Nami, we're gonna save that for a bit later. [ Is he serious? Probably. The playful way he winks at her, a self-satisfied smirk settling on his lips as he deposits the thin moons of onion in a metal bowl, along with the way he bites his lower lip, certainly suggests it. Nearby on the stove, a pot of water slowly comes to a simmer— only a midway point on it's journey to a full, rolling boil— while Sanji leans closer, lips lightly brushing against the soft skin just below her ear. ]
Thought I'd keep lunch, uh, simple. [ Which is Sanji for "I'm going to make you something that anyone would else would consider a full dinner" because he can't do anything by halves, least of all when Nami's involved. It could be more extravagant, but he's saving that for dinner— if she'll let him convince her to grant him her company for the whole day and into tomorrow, anyway. ] We're gonna have a tomato and onion salad with a balsamic vinaigrette, pasta with shrimp and a wine-butter sauce, and strawberries dipped in chocolate for dessert. You know, something sweet for someone sweet.
[ A part of him wonders if she remembers it— the silly thing he first said to her, way back when at the Baratie— but even if not, it doesn't really matter. Just looking at her makes his heart flutter in the most pleasant way he can imagine. This time, he does kiss her mouth— soft and sweet and quick, a gentle brush of his lips— before taking a step back with an almost regretful sigh, although his fingers still gently drum against her thigh. ] You want something to drink while I cook, lovely? Won't be long before I get a little too busy to make you anything.
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He never tires of it. Not in the hazy bliss that follows a long night of sex and passion where they're both left with slick skin, swollen lips, and sweet, shameless babble spilling from their lips in a tangle of limbs and exhaustion and not in moments like this, where every sense is alight with her. ] That's a damn dangerous offer. Lots of things I want, but all of them involve you, gorgeous.
[ Laughing gently as he sets her down on the countertop, there's not even an attempt to hide the appreciative look that roams over her body, greedily drinking in every detail of her that his gifts highlight. It makes the way he grins at her a moment later take on an edge of wildness, a hint of hunger lurking there.
That he wants her is obvious, because Sanji always wants her, because if there's one thing he's learned since arriving here, it's how to be direct in the things he really, truly desires, the things he wants with his whole heart. And it's a testament to how much he wants this date to proceed— to spend the afternoon spoiling her— that rather than crashing his lips against hers again in a daze of hunger and lust, he just shoots her another grin, one hand idly drumming its fingers over the delicate lace of a stocking high on her thigh. ]
Tempted as I am to say you're the appetizer, main course, and dessert, Nami, we're gonna save that for a bit later. [ Is he serious? Probably. The playful way he winks at her, a self-satisfied smirk settling on his lips as he deposits the thin moons of onion in a metal bowl, along with the way he bites his lower lip, certainly suggests it. Nearby on the stove, a pot of water slowly comes to a simmer— only a midway point on it's journey to a full, rolling boil— while Sanji leans closer, lips lightly brushing against the soft skin just below her ear. ]
Thought I'd keep lunch, uh, simple. [ Which is Sanji for "I'm going to make you something that anyone would else would consider a full dinner" because he can't do anything by halves, least of all when Nami's involved. It could be more extravagant, but he's saving that for dinner— if she'll let him convince her to grant him her company for the whole day and into tomorrow, anyway. ] We're gonna have a tomato and onion salad with a balsamic vinaigrette, pasta with shrimp and a wine-butter sauce, and strawberries dipped in chocolate for dessert. You know, something sweet for someone sweet.
[ A part of him wonders if she remembers it— the silly thing he first said to her, way back when at the Baratie— but even if not, it doesn't really matter. Just looking at her makes his heart flutter in the most pleasant way he can imagine. This time, he does kiss her mouth— soft and sweet and quick, a gentle brush of his lips— before taking a step back with an almost regretful sigh, although his fingers still gently drum against her thigh. ] You want something to drink while I cook, lovely? Won't be long before I get a little too busy to make you anything.