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The thing is, life has dealt Sanji pretty much every single bad card possible. The worst hand in the game. Hell, not even cards; life dug its metaphorical hand into metaphorical mud and plopped a wad of it on his lap and said ‘this is what we got for you, good luck!’ instead of handing him cards.
There’s a few good things here and there, of course. Meeting the shitty old man might fall, in terms of circumstances, into the ‘bad’ category of things, considering it was one of the most painful near death experiences he could imagine- but it turned his life around completely and for the best. Reiju… Did her best, and his mother- may her soul rest in peace- was a shining light that surely led him to be who he is. He’s got a crew that loves him and doesn’t laugh at his dream, that made a place for him among them, somewhere to belong.
Then there’s the bad things, way too many to list- but perhaps the most pertinent ones are the things he can’t leave behind. He can run away from his biological family, he can forsake his last name.
He can’t get rid of the fact he’s got cow ears and a tail.
Because of course. Of course Judge Vinsmoke couldn’t be satisfied with just genetically modifying his children to be damn near indestructible, superhuman, unfeeling beings. Or- well, no, that wasn’t quite right. Sanji’s memories of his childhood are hazy at times, partly from trauma and partly from repeated head injuries, but he feels like he can recall some of the science babble; using mink DNA to alter genes and grant greater strength in areas in which humans are inferior, blah, blah, blah. The goal, he’s certain, was to brute force animal strength into human genetics. And for all his dear mother was able to shield him from the more brutal genetic modifications that would’ve made his skin unbreakable or his emotions dull, she wasn’t quite able to stop that particular tweak.
So. He’s some sort of fucked cow hybrid- where his brothers moreso resembled bulls, sporting intimidating horns even at a young age, Sanji was born with soft little cow-like spotted ears and tiny nubby horns that never grew larger than a couple inches, and a long-ish tail ending in a tuft of black fur. He’s not even fully a mink, creatures he hasn’t even met and was limited to reading about on books back in Germa 66, he’s a guy with cow features. And even if he had come out way more mink-like, all covered in fur and stuff, then what? There weren't any minks outside of the Grand Line. He’d still be a freak.
He’s actually thankful that the genetic mutations were limited in that way. As things are, he can hide his features well enough- a beanie, hoodie, or a large bucket hat are enough to hide his differences, along with tucking his tail into his pants. That was how he’d managed the first few months after escaping Germa 66. That, of course, hadn’t been the case when Zeff saved him; the cat was out of the bag pretty quick with that, although the more pressing concerns at the time made it so that the old man didn’t even stop to ask questions.
At the Baratie, his situation was an open secret- the chef hat that he had earned as a sous chef was uncomfortable for his ears, so he often just opted for wearing a hair net when needed. For all the staff might tease him and call him a calf or make jokes about how beef wasn’t meant to be cooking, the fact remained that the fighting chefs of the Baratie were a family in their own right and cared for him like a pack of rowdy uncles. Most of them having been pirates meant that they’d seen their share of odd people out on the sea, and the odd chef who tried to make a fuss about their sous-chef being not quite human had either been quickly educated into proper staff behavior or booted out with little mercy.
And as for with his crew…
Luffy had seen him, beat and hurt after the battle- the bucket hat he’d hastily slapped on when he’d been forced to act as a server for the meantime now knocked off- his captain had just stretched a hand and tapped one of his nubby horns with no semblance of personal space or respect, tugged at one of his ears, and then laughed and declared that ‘Sanji has soft ears!’. After that, there hadn’t been much time for the people he met later on to make much of a fuss, not after their fight with Arlong, and just like that, his anatomy had seemed like not a big deal for the first time in a long time.
The clothing in Alabasta proves to be the perfect excuse to cover his head while in-land to avoid attracting attention to himself, but while on the ship, he prefers to let them out and have his tail free as well. As things are, it turns out that having a fur-covered tail coiled around one’s sweaty leg all day, combined with ears pressed down into also-sweaty hair and covered by cloth, is deeply unpleasant. At least on the ship, he can let them air out; or so he had wanted to, but the sudden addition of Luffy’s brother to the crew (albeit temporarily) makes him hesitate to do so.
It’s not that Ace looks mean or anything. Nor that Sanji cares. It’s just been drilled into him to hide certain things when people who aren’t part of his core family are nearby- when a new chef joined the crew and he still didn’t trust them, when he had to play the part of a waiter, or when one of Zeff’s old friends swung by, he’d always make sure to hide his features until they left. And as much as his crew is now a sort of family to him, and Ace being Luffy’s brother should technically imply some bond, the fact remains that he’s a complete stranger to Sanji.
Still! He’s… Nice. He offers to do the dishes even though he’s a guest, he proves to be as voracious of an eater as Luffy but tactful enough to not steal food off others’ plates, and has an easygoing energy about him that seems to make everyone feel at peace with him, even after watching him punch a fiery fist through three ships not long ago.
Part of this kindness is, as Sanji has found out, staying with him when he’s prepping meals. It’s usually lonely work, and he’s used to the silence being filled by the sound of his knives or water boiling in the stove along with the waves outside. Ace, however, seems to think of this as too lonely of an existence, insisting on filling the silence with small talk.
“So… Luffy tells me you got soft ears?” he says casually, mindlessly twirling a spoon over his empty plate. Sanji freezes for a second, and Ace smiles. “Ah- sorry if that made you uncomfortable! Just thought that- well, you don’t have to cover up if you don’t want to. I’m not going to judge or anything, and also, you should probably tell Luffy to be a little more careful if it’s not something you want everyone to know.”
“Oh- it’s not, um…” Sanji makes sure to put away the plate he’d been drying before he stupidly drops it. He feels exposed all of a sudden; he’s not mad, because he knows Luffy probably had no ill intent, and it’s true that he never told him not to say. He just feels… A bit laid bare, so to say. He bites his lip and does his best to act natural.
“I mean- you don’t have to if you don’t want to, I just thought-” Ace looks a bit panicked, like he also doesn’t quite know how to respond now, and Sanji takes a deep drag of his cigarette and forces the most casual smile he can.
“Nah, nah, it’s cool. It’s way too hot anyways, I was itching to take this thing off.” He says, undoing the cotton scarf that’s been on his head for way too long now. He feels a little bad- Vivi had seemed quite thrilled to help him put it on the correct way, but in truth, having his ears flattened into his sweaty scalp was near unbearable.
Free of their prison, his ears flick involuntarily- he can see Ace perk up from the corner of his eyes in what he hopes is just mere curiosity. Out of instinct, he raises a hand to smooth down his hair, surely unruly after being covered for so long, trying to not make a big deal as he smoothes down the short but soft fur on his ears. It’s whatever, but he finds himself not wanting to appear all… Frumpled in front of Ace, who has so far shown nothing but relaxed charm, narcolepsy episode induced faceplanting into plates aside.
“Oh wow, so they really are…” Ace mumbles, eyes glued to Sanji’s head. “They move and stuff, huh?”
“Yeah, they- move. And stuff.” says Sanji. As if on cue, his right ear flicks on instinct- it’s one of those things that he doesn’t do voluntarily, but more as a reflex. Not a big deal. Some people with normal human ears can move their ears too- he remembers Carne used to do it when he was drunk enough and trying to make everyone laugh. But Ace is looking at him like he just did something amazing, and that’s enough to make Sanji feel bashful.
“Oh shit- you have horns too? Can I take a look?” asks Ace, standing up. The distance between the table and the sink is short, shorter even for his long legs as he strides right up to Sanji.
Sanji doesn’t particularly want to feel- observed by a man. If it were a cute lady, he’d eat it all up; he’d let her observe all she wanted! Touch and feel- he makes sure to keep his hair nice and soft, and that goes for the fine fur on his ears as well! But Ace is not a cute lady- he’s… A tall, lean, sun-kissed man. His captain’s older brother. Possibly an older guy as well, although Sanji can’t be sure, but surely Ace has to be older than him, right? He’s, what, a division commander for the Whitebeard Pirates? Surely they don’t hand those titles off to pipsqueaks. And he’s always shirtless too, showing off that huge tattoo which makes him feel grander, and also shows off his torso which is lean and muscular in a way Sanji knows holds more power than the jackasses who get real big and swole- Ace’s got muscle in the way someone who can punch hard and run fast does, all functional and-
-and decidedly very manly, and Sanji doesn’t want to be an object of interest for a man!
… But, Ace has been so nice- such an agreeable guest, and he hasn’t shown an ounce of malice or mockery, rather genuine curiosity towards him. It’s… Sanji doesn’t turn around, keeping his eyes on the pile of dishes he’s been drying, trying to act as if he hasn’t been running marathons around his head. It’s fine. It’s just- casual stuff between guys. He forces his eyes to remain on the sink and shrugs nonchalantly.
“Sure, go ahead. Just don’t pull on ‘em or anything like that.” He says, taking a drag of smoke and mechanically picking up the next dish to be dried. Ace hovers behind him, and Sanji feels a twinge of fear at having his back to him like this, unable to see his next move. His shoulders tense as he forces himself to dry the plate on his hand, although he’s sure he’s been drying the same spot for the past few minutes without much progress.
“Pull on them? Hope you didn’t peg me as the kinda guy who’d do that first things first, that’s kinda mean.” chuckles Ace- and then Sanji feels warm fingers on his hair and he tenses, body going rigid. “Does Luffy tug on your ears a lot? I swear, I thought he’d learnt his lesson on doing that after that one time a dog nearly bit his-”
“No- he doesn’t… Pull my ears.” says Sanji, back ramrod straight. Ace laughs warmly behind him.
“Aaah, that’s good, I’m glad. Luff’s a good kid, but he can be a bit rough around the edges, ‘s good to know that he does take care of his crewmates.” says Ace, his fingers smoothing over one of Sanji’s ear. The traitorous thing flicks beneath his hand, prompting a surprised noise. “Huh, he wasn’t lying, they really are soft…”
Sanji tries to wrack his brain for a good response. Were it anyone else, he’d probably have a more biting remark- like if had been Zoro, for example, he’d have gone on a long tirade about shampoo and hair washing and basic hygiene, all things that seemed to evade the swordsman. Hell, he’d probably have had similar words for Luffy- Usopp might’ve been spared the hygiene talk, given that he was the only other man on the ship who showered regularly, and his hair-care routine was even better than Sanji’s, but he’s sure he could’ve had some snark to hit him with if he pulled that kind of stunt.
Under Ace’s hands, though, Sanji just sputters a bit.
“I- I guess, yeah.” he mumbles. Ace seemingly finds his tone entertaining, because he chuckles again, his fingers smoothing over the fur of his ears and slowly scratching softly closer to the base of it, making Sanji shiver.
Nobody’s… Pet him like this, aside from his mother. It’s been long enough that he’d forgotten how hands softly tangled in his head, massaging his scalp and the sensitive base of his ears felt. After his mother died, nobody had ever done this; the closest he can think of is perhaps Zeff roughly washing his hair when he was young and had unfortunate incidents with ingredients he didn’t know how to handle yet, but the rough washing cannot compare to this. Ace’s hands are warm, and in theory it should feel uncomfortable with the warm weather- but it’s not, it’s oddly comforting.
“Hmm, still, this isn’t the kinda thing you should hide, y’know? With powers like these, at least it makes it so onlookers know that if you fall into the ocean, that someone’s gotta jump in to rescue you.” hums Ace, his hands massaging Sanji’s scalp, petting the base of his horns. All the tension from his shoulders melts against his will, and he has to make a conscious effort to keep the dish he was holding in his hands.
“Huh…?” Sanji’s brain is playing catch-up, too busy in the dissonance of how good Ace’s hands feel, and the inherent sense of danger of a man being so close. He mumbles, not trusting his voice. “Ah- ‘s not… Not a devil fruit thing. I can swim.”
“Oh, it isn’t?” hums Ace. His fingers scratch softly on a spot behind Sanji’s ear, and oh god- that feels… Sanji shakily puts the dish down- it’s been dried by the air at this point, taking his cigarette out his mouth and putting it down before he bites through it and gets tobacco leaves and gunk all over his mouth. Ace keeps going. “So you were born like this?”
“... Y-yeah.” responds Sanji. He expects a barrage of questions- most people have them, when he mentions that his traits are biological. But he can’t even focus on the dread of the oncoming questions that he already knows he can’t or won’t answer, because Ace keeps scratching a particular spot behind his ears that’s making his head feel like mush.
“Oooh, I see- mink ancestry?” he says, and Sanji can muster up enough to be a little shocked at this, prompting Ace to laugh. “I’ve been around the Grand Line for a while, I’ve seen stuff. Didn’t know that minks could get so much human in them, but hey, the more you know, hm?”
“I- uhuh.” Sanji replies dumbly. He doesn’t feel like explaining that the only ‘mink ancestry’ he’s got in him is probably the DNA of some poor mink who was kept locked in some dungeon to have their genetic material extracted and then scrambled into his genetic makeup in the womb. Not that he cares to correct that, when he feels like he might melt into a puddle.
“Mhm, I guess I can see why you keep ‘em hidden. Not very common to see stuff like this in this part of the Grand Line, but it’s a real shame.” says Ace. “They suit you.”
“Don’t be- stupid-!” Sanji tries to bite back, because he has pride as a man, and being called cute by another guy is a direct stab to that. Tragically, his attempt doesn’t work all too well, because his head feels like it’s full of cotton and his legs feel jelly-weak, so all he really does is lean back into Ace’s warm chest. He’s lucky that Ace is a good sport about it, supporting him instead of side-stepping to let him fall, and doesn’t even react to it.
“Whaat? No, I’m serious! It’s kinda cute, the white and black fur on blond hair. And the horns too, I mean… I’m sure you could pack a mean headbutt with ‘em.” says Ace, rubbing the nubby little horns on Sanji’s head. In theory, they’re all bony keratin, and yet Ace’s touch on them has Sanji leaning on him, fighting to try and rescue the last bits of his pride he has left.
“I don’t… Headbutt like- an animal.” he mumbles. God, is he really so touch starved that even a man petting him like this is enough to render him into this state? That can’t be good- he desperately hopes that the musician Luffy’s itching to recruit is a lady who’s a fan of skinship, because clearly going so long without the touch of a lady at sea is crossing his wires.
“Aah, of course, sorry, sorry…” chuckles Ace. One of his hands leaves Sanji’s head- Sanji feels its absence immediately, the warm Alabasta air not quite warm enough to not feel odd against his now heated scalp. Before he can unconsciously do something embarrassing about it, though, said hand settles at his waist. Ace hums. “So… You got a tail?”
“N-none of your business.” says Sanji. He can’t even make it sound rude, not with how out of it he feels with Ace’s free hand still softly petting his head. Ace pouts, slotting his head in the junction of Sanji’s shoulder.
“Aww, c’mon, can’t blame a man for asking, right? I bet it’s pretty cute, too.” hums Ace. And for the first time, Sanji can hear something in his tone- not the same easygoing bravado and charm he’s had since meeting him. Rather… It sounds like a question. Like he’s asking, signaling- a proposition. His hand makes a motion to slide a bit lower down his hip, but returns to place; an offering. “... Can I see it?”
That last question doesn’t carry any of the playful, carefree tone that Sanji’s come to associate with Fire-Fist Ace over his short time knowing him. It’s instead a rather frank and exposed question; he’s asking for real. Sanji could say no and he has no doubts that the man would back away and play the whole thing off, throw a couple lines and then disappear to go bother Luffy probably-
… No, that’s not quite fair. Sanji can’t say no, not when his head’s so full of cotton and Ace keeps sending sparks down his column with every gentle scratch of his blunt nails over his scalp. He humanly cannot say no when Ace’s skin is so warm, the heat of his chest seeping through the thin layers of the robe he’s been wearing ever since arriving at Alabasta. Not when his synapses are firing off so fast that he can’t keep up, his body demanding that he remain right there or lose this soft, gentle touch forever.
There’s some sort of alarm in his head- men aren’t gentle and soft. Men are brutish creatures at worst, and rough at best. This is an anomaly. This will never happen again. Better make the best of it.
“... Yeah.” mumbles Sanji. He lets himself lean back fully into Ace’s chest. Ace isn’t a lady, but- but perhaps he can make one exception, can’t he?
The hand that Ace had kept in his hair leaves, and Sanji bites his tongue at the loss of it, but that’s quickly cut off by a gasp when the warm hands at his hips tug up, his loose robe riding up and up. He wasn’t wearing pants underneath: he’d been offered them, when he got the robe- he was probably meant to wear something underneath it, but he figured that it’d be hot enough with just the robe on, and forewent the baggy, airy pants for just his boxers. That means that when Ace tugs his robe up, it’s his bare legs that are exposed first, and a bit higher up, his boxers.
“Oooh, these look all fancy. Now I feel embarrassed, my underwear’s all ratty compared to yours.” hums Ace, thumbing at the waistband. They are nice, Sanji wants to say- the shitty old man always yelled at me for spending so much on stuff like this, but he can’t quite get the words out. The mask’s off now, and any pretense that this is just a casual exploration of his odd anatomy by a curious acquaintance has melted away.
And yet, Sanji feels mortified when Ace’s hand cups his dick over his boxers, and finds him already at half-mast. It’s not just the fact that apparently, all it took for him to get there was having his ears and hair played with by a dude. It’s the fact he didn’t even- notice. He didn’t even notice he was getting hard, so lost in the soft cottony feeling of Ace’s hands on him that he didn’t… How did he not realize? Now that he’s been made aware, he can feel arousal simmering through him, and his cock twitches under Ace’s hand; he feels… Humiliated, like melted putty, but Ace doesn’t really leave a chance for the feeling to spread.
“Hey, hey- I’m glad you’re enjoying this, yeah? Can’t say I’m quite there yet, but-” Ace hums, and grinds his hips into Sanji’s ass. More than anything, Sanji just feels that ridiculous belt buckle dig into him, and that should add to how absolutely mortifying the situation is, but once again, Ace leaves no chance for it, his hands grasping the already tugged-up robes by the back and lifting them up further. “- I wasn’t lying that I wanted to see your tail. Bet looking at your ass will get me all the way there, too, so ‘s a win-win.”
Holding Sanji’s robes up from the back with one hand, gently pushing Sanji forward and coaxing him to lean over the sink, propped up on his own hands, Ace hitches the fabric up enough to expose his ass and the small of his back. Ace’s free hand smooths down over the exposed skin- since he was wearing robes and forgoing pants, since Sanji found himself with the liberty of not having his tail uncomfortably stuffed into them (as it is with his suits), but that didn’t mean he could risk having it out casually, lest he end up creating odd silhouettes beneath his robe with careless movements. Instead, he’d opted to just loosely coil his tail around his right leg- the same way he’d do when wearing pants, but free of the pressure that the cloth prison would provide, remaining there in place thanks to muscle memory.
Ace whistles, and smooths his hand over the small of Sanji’s back, where fine fur begins to lead down his spine until right above where his ass begins, the spot where his tail extrudes from his body. Ace lets his hand wander down, trailing his tail- gently, he coaxes the curled appendage to un-curl from Sanji’s leg, gently tugging it back into a more natural position. Much like his ears, his tail tends to move of its own accord; muscle memory may keep it coiled around his leg when he needs it to, but once coaxed to normality, it’s like it’s got a mind of its own.
“I knew it’d be cute, too.” says Ace, petting the fluffy end of Sanji’s tail. Then, without warning, the hand that’s not holding his robes up cups one of his asscheeks, making Sanji gasp, resting more of his weight on his arms as he leans over the sink. Ace chuckles. “Pretty cute here, too.”
“S-shut up-!” Sanji says, but it’s hopeless. He sounds all- meek and whiny. It’d be cute if he was a lady, all overwhelmed and flustered by a man’s touch, but he’s a man being touched by another man, and so it’s decidedly humiliating. His dick, however, doesn’t get the same note, filling out his boxers with every touch.
“Y’know, when I saw you at first, I couldn’t really believe Luff managed to snatch such a cute cook.” says Ace, hand kneading Sanji’s ass like it’s nothing. “Made me feel damn lucky that that kid’s got nothing in his head but his dream- if it were any normal man I’d have to assume they’d have laid some sorta claim on ya right away.”
“I’m not some- not cattle that belongs to someone, you-” Sanji huffs. There’s no real bite behind his words, even though he’d usually be a little more than miffed at the implication of him being- owned or whatever. Instead, for some cursed reason, it makes the heat on the pit of his stomach simmer more. What the fuck?
“Nah, not like that. ‘m just saying that if I was your captain, I wouldn’t be lettin’ any guy go and stay alone with you for prolonged periods of time, ‘cause I’d know what they’d have in mind.” he says, his hand massaging the base of Sanji’s tail in a way that has Sanji nearly collapsing on the floor. “Lucky for me that your captain isn’t like that, hm? I should thank my brother for leaving his cute cook within my reach.”
“You-” Sanji grits his teeth. He’s ready to try and desperately scrape some dignity- can’t he get called handsome at least? Does it have to be cute?
He doesn’t have time to extrapolate on why the words make his cock twitch or his chest feel tight, not when Ace’s hands keep kneading his ass over his boxers. Or- actually, his chest doesn’t feel tight per se. Sanji can’t really pinpoint the exact feeling, not when Ace is now really grinding on him and now it’s not just his belt buckle that he can feel pressing into him, but his chest feels weird. Not ‘having a heart attack’ weird, he hopes, but rather-
… Sore…? No, not sore. It feels-
“W-wait- Ace- I’m… S-stop, my chest feels-” Sanji whimpers, because the sensation in his chest is decidedly abnormal enough that he feels it warrants checking out what’s going on. The last thing he wants is to collapse in the middle of… Middle of whatever this is, and then have to go get Chopper.
All credits given, Ace does stop for a second, when he hears ‘stop’- but when he hears ‘chest’, his eyes light up with the same breed of curiosity they did when Sanji first took off his head covering to reveal his ears. Instead of actually stopping, Ace stops holding Sanji’s robes up, and puts his hands back on his waist to spin him around; Sanji scrambles to once again support his hands on the edge of the sink, as he leans back, because Ace is somehow even more in his personal space now than he was when he was groping his ass.
“Your chest…?” he says, his hands already cupping Sanji’s (admittedly small, compared to his or Zoro’s) pecs through his robe. He looks like a kid let loose at a candy store, even though Sanji has quite literally just paused a- a something session to inform of a physical condition, which doesn’t make sense. Ace, against all logic, squeezes Sanji’s chest, and moves his hands so his thumbs can rub his nipples over the fabric, which makes the weird feeling get weirder. Sanji whines in response, but Ace keeps staring, eyes hungry. “Y’know- I didn’t wanna be too crude before, but…”
He keeps rubbing circles into his nipples. The material of the robes Sanji’s wearing isn’t rough, not really, but it’s also not silky-smooth; he can really feel the texture, combined with the warmth of Ace’s hands. God, not this. Not- he’s not getting off to getting his chest played with. A man can only bear so many humiliations in one day, and this has to be the tipping point- but just as he’s about to try and stand his ground again, the feeling of weird-weird-weird raises until it hits a tipping point, and suddenly it goes from weird to relief, and he feels the front of his robe grow moist just right over where Ace is rubbing.
“-shit, yeah, fuck- all I could think when you took that handkerchief off your head and I saw those spotty ears was that if you were a cow, if I could fuckin’ milk ya-” Ace groans, kneading Sanji’s chest harder, his hands warming up to a point where it’s starting to get concerning that he might go up in flames, and the front of Sanji’s robes gets wetter with-
with milk.
Forget any shred of human decency or pride. Any sort of masculinity or ego. Sanji can feel his honour and what must surely be his soul too shatter almost audibly inside of him.
Because he’s… Lactating.
And because despite this- fucking weird, bizarre, what the fuck situation, he’s still painfully hard and twitching in his pants.
“W-what- I-” Sanji’s eyes are wide, and he can’t really form any sort of coherent thought. Not between the shock and humiliation and the delicious jolts of pleasure every time Ace squeezes his chest- fuck, the relief he feels is so… “I- I didn’t know I- this has never…”
“Oh my god, I’m the first one to make you do this? Shit- shit, that’s so hot-” Ace shudders, leaning forward and just burying his head into Sanji’s still clothed flat chest. There’s little dark, wet spots over his nipples were- where the milk has soaked into the fabric, and Ace groans, inhaling like a dog, arms wrapping around Sanji to squish his chest closer to his face. “Smells sweet- bet it tastes good. Everything you make tastes good. Just- god, let me have a taste, please-”
Gone is all the suave, boyish charm Ace had been brandishing since meeting him. Gone is, too, all that confidence with which he handled him, going from mere petting to fondling his ass. This Ace, right now, is a man starved- a hungry creature, taking deep whiffs of Sanji’s scent like he’s trying to get nourishment just from that. If it weren’t because Sanji feels just as, if not even more wrecked and desperate, this might have felt like a great equalizing moment- but the shock of the situation, the fact his chest is producing milk, for seemingly no other reason than because his captain’s older brother made him way too horny, keeps him from reaching that catharsis.
… Without even thinking, Sanji’s hands are clutching his robe and lifting it over his head (Ace stops nestling into his chest for just a second to allow this), baring himself to Ace. He isn’t even thinking. There’s nothing in his head other than cotton-soft warmth and the heat of another body against his own.
Ace looks hungry for it, and Sanji has never let anyone go hungry under his watch. Perhaps it’s as simple as that.
“W-whatever. Have a taste.” Sanji mumbles, because he has to say something to fill the second of silence that follows; he has to prove to himself he’s not so far gone he can’t speak or something dumb like that, even though clearly his very biology and genetics are conspiring against the image of himself he’s tried to hold for so long.
He doesn’t get to dwell on that for long. Ace’s mouth is latched onto one of his nipples before he can even finish his words- strong, lean arms wrapped around his torso, pressing him into a hot greedy mouth that sucks on him so strongly that he briefly worries about if nipples can get bruised. He should be worried about the fact that he’s producing milk, shouldn’t he?
The thought had crossed his mind before, of course- his brothers had made crude, horrible remarks on it when he was a child, but they’d been nothing more than the stupid comments of children who’d just learnt where the milk they drank from breakfast came from and made the first association they could with their runt of a brother. Some chefs at the Baratie had dared try to joke about it, all of which had gone missing under mysterious circumstances and whom every chef would act as if they didn’t know had even existed after they went missing. Zoro had tried to make a joke about it once, during one of their earliest arguments, but the kick to the nuts that Sanji had delivered had clearly marked it as something that was not on the table to argue about.
Because- of course it was humiliating and bad and embarrassing. Fucking cow features, the worst cards to be handed for his pride as a man. Domestic fucking cattle. Some soft and weak little thing for his brothers to torment eternally and to be forever a disappointment to his father. Useless dumb animal who Zeff rescued and lost his leg for- idiot calf who the ex-pirate would’ve been better off slaughtering. The very brief times he’d wondered if his body could produce milk, it’d been with disgust, another feature to detest, and yet-
“Fuck- ‘sgood-” Ace slurs into his chest, like he’s being fed some sort of godly nectar, and Sanji can’t find it in himself to wallow in disgust when this is the reality in front of him.
“Shut up-” he says, anyways, because what else can he say? His heart feels like it might pop with how fast it’s going. It’s- he can feel the milk leaking from him and into Ace’s burning-hot mouth. Can see Ace’s throat bob, noisily swallowing mouthfuls of it, his hips thrusting messily into Sanji’s own- they both groan when their clothed dicks rub against each other, but there’s no coordination in either of them to keep at it consistently.
It’s- he’s nourishing someone with something his body’s producing. It’s not just about the fact he’s making Ace feel good (which- fuck, that’s a heady thought. Making someone else feel good. What else has Sanji ever wanted in his life aside from pleasing those above him? What else has he desired more than to know he did good?), it’s the fact that he’s nourishing him in a way far, far more direct than cooking for him ever could.
His mind shakily runs through the nutritional benefits of milk. It’s a stupid thought, but he’s- he’s giving it to Ace. He’s nourishing him, giving a part of him to make him just a little less hungry, just a little stronger. Not that he needs it, of course; Ace is nowhere near starving, and hasn’t been in a long time if those muscles are to judge, but it’s still a heady thought.
He loses track of time- it’s a good thing they began this after everyone had finished dinner, because if they’d gone at it post-lunch, there’s no way Sanji would’ve been able to coherently measure the time to know when they’d be at risk of people walking into the kitchen. Instead, he lets time melt into a soft, hazy nothing; they frot into each other, clumsily and without much rhythm. Ace, with his greedy mouthfuls, leaves one of Sanji’s nipples dry- not shocking, considering Sanji can’t even fathom where the milk is being stored, considering his chest is flat and rather small- and without even asking this time, switches to the other side. Sanji doesn’t even bother to question the situation anymore, and merely lifts a hand to pet at Ace’s sweat-damp hair, his hat long since discarded, as he sucks his other nipple dry.
By the time they come, they’re both slick with sweat, and the smell of it and sex hangs in the air. That by itself should be mortifying to Sanji, as he comes down from the hormonal rush of it all; post nut clarity, or at least the familiar feeling of intense guilt that he’s come to associate with the seconds coming down from jerking off. However, even though the kitchen (a sacred space) now reeks of indecent and shameful activities, even though he’s naked with nothing on except now-soiled boxers and his shoes, even though his chest is swollen and shiny with Ace’s spit, he can’t bring himself to care. He’s… Exhausted in a way he doesn’t think he’s ever been. A bone deep exhaustion that’s almost pleasant, not grueling like if he’d worked for forty hours straight or like he’s been in a fight.
“... Shit, I creamed my pants.” Ace murmurs, head still buried in Sanji’s sweaty, spit-slick chest. His breath brushes against one of Sanji’s nipples, and now that he’s not turned on out of his mind, he can feel how oversensitive and abused they are, and so he huffs as he pushes the man’s head off his chest.
“You- you made me get my underwear dirty.” grumbles Sanji, shakily adjusting his posture and looking around to see just where the hell he threw his robe. “I’m going to have to do laundry tomorrow. You can just toss your pants in there.”
“Would be appreciated,” says Ace, also straightening up- there’s… A sort of vibe now that it’s over- not an awkward one, not really, but it’s… Different now. Sanji’s just too tired to care. Ace looks down, taking in the very visibly cum-stained dark denim of his shorts and sighing. “You think I could get the swordsman to lend me some pants in the meanwhile?”
“I don’t even know if that brute has spare clothes, but you can try.” says Sanji, as he picks up his robe. He considers just sliding it back on, but a glance at his underwear makes him reconsider; he doesn’t want to have to wash the robe if some of that gets on it. He can’t even bring himself to be embarrassed as he strips his boxers off, tail flicking, and cleans his soft dick with some paper towels he keeps to clean the counters. Before Ace can ask, Sanji tosses the roll to him so he can clean up a bit as well.
“... So, that had never happened before?” says Ace, and Sanji pauses. That, as in… The milk? Or as in with a guy? Or as in- sex? Was that sex? They didn’t… Nobody’s dick went into anyone, but- in some of the porn he’d read penetration didn’t happen, and the dirty magazines he’d managed to sneakily buy always said that ‘anything was good as long as you and your lady both came’- if they both orgasmed, was it sex? Had- had Ace been able to tell this was his first time? Sanji’s tired, sleepy mind tries to send itself into its usual overthinking spree, but Ace clarifies before he can get too far into it. “The- milk thing. Like, has it never happened with a partner before, or just…?”
“Oh. That.” says Sanji. He looks down at his naked chest, dabbing at it with a paper towel (ow- his nipples are way too sensitive, he’s going to have to wear an undershirt tomorrow if he doesn’t want to die from the chafing), and bites the inside of his cheek. “That- uh, had never happened. No clue what that was. Probably- uh, normal, considering, y’know…”
He gestures vaguely to his head and behind, before finally sliding his robe back on. He hadn’t even noticed how cold the air had gotten, but that’s the desert's temperature changes for you. Ace has stepped out of his pants, hovering around the sink- there’s a thousand health regulations that he’d be breaking if Sanji let him even just scrub his dirty cum-covered pants in the kitchen sink, but he can’t even care. Whatever. He was going to scrub the whole place with bleach tomorrow first thing, anyways, so he shrugs and lets the man do his thing; with some luck, they’ll be dry enough by sunrise for him to wear without attracting attention.
“Huh. I mean, I wasn’t lying- the second I saw you had that cow deal going on, my mind did go straight to milk.” says Ace, scrubbing his pants on the kitchen sink using his knuckles and dish soap to get the cum off them. “Like- you know, if you think of cows you think of milk, right?”
“... Seriously? First thing you thought was milk?” asks Sanji, fishing in the pocket of his robes for a cigarette. He’s way too calm now- he won’t be in the morning, when he has energy to process all of this, but for now he feels like Ace sucked most of his brainpower out his chest. “Not- you know, ‘why does this guy have animal ears’? Just milk right away?”
“I mean, that too? Not really, though. Like I said, I’ve been around the Grand Line for a while. I’ve seen stuff- trust me when I say a guy like you isn’t even close to the most curious thing I’ve seen.” he says, turning the faucet off and wringing the now-soaked denim into the sink. Sanji makes a mental note to clean the sink with bleach and boiling water. “So, yeah, milk. And I guess the tail, too, but that’s mostly ‘cause the tail’s on the ass, and I did have your ass on my mind even before knowing about the other stuff.”
“... Too tired to deal with this.” groans Sanji. Well- one thing’s for sure, and it’s that he’s quite certain Ace considers him more than an acquaintance now, if his demeanor is anything to judge. He’s certainly more outspoken now- probably sucking on a guy’s tits for milk until you both cum counts as a bonding activity strong enough to justify letting down some formalities.
“I agree. Was kinda worried I’d zonk off and fall asleep while I was- y’know. It didn’t happen, thank fuck, but man I could sleep for a couple days straight now.” says Ace, yawning. He’s still just in his soiled boxers, holding sopping wet pants, but Sanji figures that his devil fruit makes it so the cold night air doesn’t bother him.
“Well, go to sleep, then. I’m just gonna open the window to air this place out and leave some stuff ready for tomorrow’s breakfast.” says Sanji, stifling a yawn as well. He can quickly see Ace about to offer help, which- as tired as he is, and as much as another set of hands would make things quicker, he doesn’t really want Ace in cum-soaked boxers even as much as handling any kitchen utensil or food item. “I’m serious, just go to sleep, it’ll be quick. I don’t want to have to disinfect this kitchen even more than I’m already going to have to.”
“... Fair enough, I guess.” shrugs Ace. “I’m gonna go outside and try to dry my pants without setting them on fire.”
“Good luck with that.” says Sanji. God, tomorrow’s gonna be fun when he has to actually think about what happened today. Ace starts to walk out the kitchen, and just as he’s about to close the door on his way out, he peeks back in again.
“By the way- don’t tell Luffy I said this, ‘cause he’ll never forgive me if he finds out I’m trying to steal his chef, but…” he says, then smirks. “Consider this a standing offer to join the Whitebeard pirates- a guy like me could use some fresh milk aboard the ship.”
He leaves and closes the door before Sanji’s tired mind can react to that.