Watching Sanji cook always seemed like magic to you and you sat transfixed as his hands moved with an elegance and speed that surely wasn’t natural. The ingredients seem to fall apart before him with little more than a flick of his wrist before they were tossed into the steaming pan. You secretly wondered if those hands could make you fall apart as easily as they did the vegetables, and you felt yourself grow hot at the thought.
You watched him peel an onion with dexterity and grace, the outer layers falling away one at a time to reveal the pale, smooth flesh beneath and you longed for him to the same to you.
Humming contentedly, he stirred the soup, stopping to remove the cigarette from between his teeth to taste his creation, blowing gently on the surface before sipping at it delicately. His lips quirked in a satisfied smile and he made a comment of approval that fell on deaf ears – you were occupied with attempting to cool your flaming cheeks from the mere thought of his breath ghosting across your bare skin.
His jacket had been removed and hung carefully over the back of a chair, along with his tie, his powder blue shirt open slightly at the collar to reveal a sliver of wiry chest. The hard line of his clavicle looked so inviting, and you could feel your teeth aching to graze themselves over it, to nibble and bite and make him gasp your name.
Sanji seemed to notice your slightly unfocused gaze and you did not notice he was now standing in front of where you were seated at the kitchen counter. He leaned his forearms on the smooth surface, sleeves rolled neatly up to his elbows and smiled at you affectionately.
“Is everything alright, [Name]-chan?” he said softly, taking a drag of his cigarette and exhaling the soft tendrils that curled toward the ceiling.
You snapped yourself out of your daze and flushed darkly, avoiding his eyes. “I-I’m fine, Sanji-kun,” you stammered out, squirming slightly under his gaze. Your eyes travelled unwillingly to his collar, where the angle revealed even more of his chest to you.
“Are you sure? You look unwell. Maybe you should go see Chopper.” As if to prove his point, he placed one soft hand on your forehead, his touch causing a sharp jolt to your senses, leaving you flustered.
“You’re burning up,” he muttered around his cigarette, a slight frown in his features.
You shook his hand away. “I’m fine, really, it’s just a little warm in here.”
“If you say so, [Name]-chwaaan,” he cooed, giving you another warm smile. “Would you tell the others dinner is ready?”
You nodded, grateful for the excuse to escape for a few moments and calm your rapid heartbeat. You hurried from the room followed by a curious look from the somewhat bewildered cook.
Dinner was the usual affair with the crew on constant lookout for creeping rubber fingers near their plates, and the occasional cry of pain when a fork would hit its mark. You sat quietly the entire time, casting shy glances to your right where Sanji has decided to take his seat. His arm would brush against yours every so often, sending fire through your veins each time.
“Are you enjoying your dinner, [Name]-chan?” he asked gently, leaning closer to you to be heard over your rowdy captain.
“It’s delicious as usual, thank you Sanji-kun,” you replied with a smile.
“You are too kind, [Name]-chan.”
As the crew ate their fill and filed out one by one, you lagged behind, knowing that Sanji would remain to clear the table. You attempted to help, but he waved you off with a smile, so instead you returned to your previous place at the counter where you could watch him closely.
“You do so much for this crew, Sanji. Do they ever thank you for it?”
He paused for a moment. “Not usually. But I don’t mind. Seeing you all enjoy your meals is enough.”
“You deserve better.”
He turned to offer you a small smile. “Thank you, [Name]-chan. But it is I who should be thanking Luffy for giving me the opportunity to do what I love everyday while still being able to pursue my dream. It couldn’t get better than this.” He hesitated. “Well… I know one way things could be better…” He smirked and turned back to the dishes, hiding his face from your view.
“And what would that be, Sanji-kun?”
“Nothing. Forget I said anything, [Name]-chan.” His voice sounded deeper, almost hoarse. You frowned slightly.
“Tell me. I want to know what goes on in that head of yours,” you mused, startling him as you suddenly appeared by his side, tapping his forehead gently with one forefinger. He smiled sheepishly.
“Trust me, [Name]-chan, you wouldn’t want to see inside my mind right now.”
You placed a hand on your hip, unimpressed. “How bad can it be?”
He chuckled. “Well, if you really want to know…”
He dried his hands and stepped toward you swiftly, his gaze intense and unwavering, discarding his cigarette in the tray by the sink. When he was close enough you could feel the heat radiating from his skin, he leaned down by your ear, blowing his hot breath against your skin. You shuddered.
“I can’t seem to stop thinking about how badly I want to fuck you over that counter right now,” he whispered in a sultry tone.
You were speechless. Well, I did ask for it…
Sanji took your silence as horror and pulled back. “I told you, you wouldn’t want to-”
He was cut off by a pair of hot, insistent lips against his own, your fingers creeping up to entangle themselves in his blond hair and pull him closer. He smirked into the kiss and responded in kind, wrapping his willowy arms about your form to pull you tightly against his chest.
After some time, the two of you broke apart, panting. He caressed your cheek, looking at you with an expression of wonder. You took his hand in your own and placed feather kisses on his palm and the pads of each of finger.
“Thank you for everything, Sanji-kun,” you said earnestly, before pulling him in for another kiss.
“Now let’s go put those amazing hands of yours to use.”