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It's a rare morning that Zoro wakes up before Sanji, and rarer still for Sanji to sleep through him getting out of bed and moving around the room. He only managed it today through a combination of setting three alarms for himself, begging Patty to give Sanji the day off, and plying his boyfriend with wine last night—a glass and a half was all it took to have Sanji loose and giggly and, more importantly, sleepy enough to stay in bed through Zoro getting up and brushing his teeth.
He takes a minute to admire Sanji when he steps back into the bedroom, sprawled in their bed and hogging the covers like he always does—Zoro runs hot, is in nothing but an old pair of sweatpants, but he had to grab an extra blanket from the linen closet when Sanji started spending the night more often. When he officially moved in, Zoro gave up and just bought more blankets.
He peels them back now as he gets back in bed, propping himself up on one elbow and easing his other hand under the covers to toy with the hem of Sanji’s hoodie—Zoro’s hoodie, that Sanji put on when he got home from Baratie yesterday and refused to take off. Zoro would be mad about Sanji stealing his clothes, but he can't muster up the energy to even pretend he's annoyed when he sees Sanji looking so warm and comfortable, wrapped in Zoro’s clothes and Zoro’s blankets on Zoro’s bed.
Their bed, as of last month. He grips Sanji’s waist a little more firmly and bends to press a kiss to Sanji’s cheek, his temple, his forehead, peppering his face with them until Sanji’s soft snores are cut off with a deep, slow inhale.
“Mm,” he hums, cracking his eyes open to smile at Zoro. “Well, good morning.”
“Morning,” Zoro murmurs, and when Sanji rolls his head back with a small sigh, he takes the opportunity to press a trail of kisses from the corner of his jaw and down his throat. “Happy birthday.”
Sanji groans softly and closes his eyes again. “Zoro, I don't–”
“I know,” Zoro interrupts, not letting up. “I won't mention it again. Just lemme give you a present.”
Sanji snorts. “Some birthday present. You'd do this every morning if I let you.”
Zoro tucks a smile into the crook of Sanji’s neck, then follows it up with another kiss. “See? It doesn't even count as celebrating. Just enjoying your day off.”
Sanji lets out a put-upon sigh, but he obligingly spreads his legs. “Fine, fuckin’ horndog,” he says around a yawn. “But don't get crazy. I want to go back to sleep after.”
“All right,” Zoro murmurs against his skin. He leans up just enough to kiss Sanji properly, short and sweet, and then slides down the bed until he's comfortably sprawled between Sanji’s legs. He pushes the hoodie up to plant a kiss just below his belly button, and he traces his fingertips lightly over the front of Sanji’s tiny sleep shorts.
Sanji makes a muffled noise above him and twitches his hips, and Zoro grins and repeats the movement. Yeah, he's the horndog.
Sanji lifts his hips so Zoro can slide his shorts down, then yawns again as he says, “I would've worn something sexier if I knew you were gonna get frisky this morning.”
All right, true, the worn out black briefs with a hole near the hip aren't Sanji’s more exciting pair, but still. “You're in my shirt, though,” Zoro points out, and Sanji gives him an unimpressed look.
“I wouldn't describe your hoodie as sexy, Mosshead.”
“Yeah, but you in my hoodie is sexy,” Zoro says, and Sanji’s cheeks go pink.
“Fucking embarrassing,” he grumbles. “Stop trying to talk, just get to work, you goddamn– that doesn't even make any sense.”
Zoro snickers and doesn't bother arguing; he just kisses Sanji through his panties, and Sanji cuts himself off to groan. Zoro spends a minute licking and sucking him through his underwear, getting him nice and wet until he can taste Sanji through the fabric. Sanji’s hand finds its way to his hair, not tight enough to hurt, just to hold, and Zoro takes it as his cue to ease Sanji’s underwear off, too.
Sanji squirms a little when the cold air hits his cunt, and Zoro immediately gets back to work, keeping him nice and warm and distracted from the chilly morning.
Sanji makes the prettiest fucking noises above him. Zoro hums just to feel the way Sanji's grip tightens in his hair, then he keeps doing it because it makes him sigh so soft and sweet, hips rocking lazily against Zoro’s face, until–
Sanji yanks him back by the hair so Zoro can see his scowl. “Motherfucker, are you humming Happy Birthday into my fucking cunt?”
Zoro blinks innocently up at him. “No?”
“Dick,” Sanji grumbles, and Zoro grins.
“S’that a request? ‘Cause two minutes ago you said–”
“Oh my god, I want a divorce.”
Sanji shoves his head away—and coincidentally, down, so Zoro gets back to work.
He could happily stay down here all day, celebrate the way Sanji deserves until Zoro’s jaw is aching and Sanji’s a shaking, wrung-out mess above him, but he promised nothing crazy. He works him over slow and easy instead, strokes his fingertips lightly up and down the inside of Sanji’s thighs rather than grabbing them and pinning him open the way he wants to, keeps his mouth soft and open and gentle as he laves his tongue over Sanji’s cunt and suckles his perfect little cock, and he's rewarded for his restraint with–
“Ahh,” Sanji breathes out, barely more than a sigh. “A-ah, ah, daddy–”
Zoro groans around him and grinds his hips into the mattress. Sanji snickers, the little shit, and combs his fingers through Zoro’s hair. Zoro’s tempted to bite back about it—figuratively or literally, he'll decide in the moment—but Sanji not celebrating his birthday doesn't change the fact that this is still his present. Zoro can put up with him being a tease for one morning.
He'll get him back another time.
He stops just long enough to press a quick, light kiss to the inside of Sanji’s thigh before he goes back to work. He rolls his own hips lazily against the mattress as he does with no finesse or particular urgency, just enough to take the edge off while Sanji is making such pretty noises above him.
Speaking of noises.
“Zoro,” Sanji whines, rocking up against his mouth. “That's so– fuck, daddy–”
That one sounded less deliberate, an actual slip of the tongue instead of Sanji just picking on him, which makes it that much harder for Zoro to keep his focus when all he wants, suddenly, is to flip Sanji onto his hands and knees and fuck into him until daddy is all he remembers how to say.
Another time, he reminds himself, scolding, but he gives into the temptation to slide one hand away from Sanji’s thigh and under the curve of his ass—the perfect size to hold and squeeze, which Zoro takes a moment to appreciate—until he can get a finger against his hole. He doesn't bother trying to dip inside, just leaves one fingertip against his rim in a light, teasing press that has Sanji clamping his thighs around Zoro’s head and coming with long, drawn-out moan.
“Asshole,” he says as he relaxes, sounding content and satisfied more than actually annoyed, and Zoro snickers.
“Yeah, that's exactly what that is.”
“Stop making puns,” Sanji groans, but he's fighting back a sleepy smile as Zoro crawls back up the bed to lie next to him. “Go away, I don't even wanna look at you.”
“I would, but I think I'm stuck.”
Sanji, currently wrapping his arms around Zoro’s middle and winding their legs together so he can smush his cheek against Zoro’s chest, hums. “Figure it out,” he says, nuzzling shamelessly against Zoro’s pec as he snuggles in closer. “Do you wanna…” He yawns. His breath ghosts across Zoro’s nipple on the exhale, warm and wet.
Zoro carefully eases one knee up so Sanji won't see where his cock is doing its best to poke through the blanket.
“You want me to suck you off?” Sanji mumbles. His eyes are already closed. He's still flushed pink, and he's warm and loose sprawled across Zoro’s chest, boneless and sated and still in Zoro's goddamn clothes.
“Don't worry about it,” Zoro says, strained.
Sanji hums again and, without opening his eyes, snakes one hand down Zoro’s chest to wrap his fingers around his cock, and the bastard has the nerve to laugh at Zoro’s gut-punched groan.
“Shouldn't have woken me up so early,” Sanji breathes. “Die horny about it.”
“Is that an internet thing?” Zoro asks suspiciously, then immediately forgets what he just said when Sanji strokes him from base to tip, hand uncomfortably dry but unfairly good on Zoro’s cock. “Fuck.”
Sanji snickers and lets go of him to wrap his arm around Zoro’s middle. “Tell you what,” he says as he makes himself comfortable, “you let me actually sleep now, and I'll ride you when I wake up, okay?”
“You're gonna kill me,” Zoro groans, and Sanji pats his chest consolingly.
“That's the plan, baby,” he mumbles. He sounds half gone already. “Go back to sleep.”
Zoro doesn't see that happening any time soon, but he's content to lay here and let Sanji use him as a body pillow for a while. He settles in and makes himself as comfortable as he can, bringing his arm up to comb his fingers through Sanji’s hair.
“Happy birthday,” he whispers.
“Fuck you,” Sanji whispers back, but Zoro can hear the grin in his voice as he snuggles closer, falling asleep on Zoro’s chest with a small, content smile.