Contrary to popular belief Pirate Hunter Zoro hunted more than just pirates. Bandits had bounties too. Then there was an occasional large animal or monstrous creature destroying the local village outcropping and a bounty was placed on the animal as well.

He preferred going after humans, especially those with a sword whose defeat could make him stronger, but killing those animals were often worth double since Zoro could collect on the bounty and then turn and sell the creatures pelt to a furrier.

From one of those furriers he had learned the term.

Stagey.

Letting his fingers glide smoothly over the hair in gentle stroking pets…so soft, silky and smooth and then reversing flow and feeling the coarse rough resistance card stimulatingly over those same fingertips. The cook probably didn't know the term to describe this feeling Zoro was eliciting against his own face.

Stagey, the man who took that one tiger pelt had said. Smooth one way, rough the other.

He didn't bother telling Sanji he appreciated the light layer of blond chin scruff, the cook wasn't that much of an idiot. The amount of time he spent there would normally clue anyone in. He'd make some dig at him right now if he was in his right mind…and that was a good reason why the swordsman had taken precautions to make sure he wasn't. The petting like he was doing now was just the beginning of swordsman's' foreplay with the cooks chin. A simple greeting of welcoming acknowledgement. Sanji's role in this was to let him do as he pleased for now.
You're smooth and rough much like our relationship, like the cook himself. Yet…you're a part of him. A simple patch of blond most would look over but it is evident Sanji has taken care to keep you trimmed and handsome in this exact way. You've been a part of his identity. Probably the only thing that has kept him from being mistaken as a girl as he grew up with that tall, flexible, and androgynous frame.

It is an anomaly, Zoro knows. Not just how he has become obsessed with his lovers goatee when there is so much more interesting naked flesh, warm and inviting next to him, but how he has been with men with facial hair before and had found theirs sticking out at all angles, all rough, and not even a hint as appealing as the cooks.

His fingers tingle with the opening strokes and moves his lips to ghost over the hair, feeling the level of coarseness at the very tips in a scratchy shadow of a kiss. He can't resist the temptation and Zoro lets his tongue out to join in the worship.

Sanji jars his head at the sensation of moisture and makes a confused noise, but Zoro follows the movement and straddles the man to prevent escape. This elicits a moan from the cook as he realizes his afterglow has made him too loose to resist whatever trap Zoro had planned.

It calls to mind a large cat as he brings his tongue over the blonds' stubble in deliberate caress.

The hair is clean and tasteless but he can taste Sanji within the sprigs, sweat and arousal still fresh from bringing the man to panting orgasm minutes before. It makes him crave the taste more and he pushes his hairless chin and cheek against the dampness he left in some weird half nuzzle he doesn't quite understand before opening his mouth wider to fully take the cooks chin in his mouth and try to pull the flavors out.

"Uhhhgg…." The chef is starting to twist a little beneath him at having so much of his face encased in someone's mouth. He probably thinks it's gross and the noise spurs Zoro to back off a bit instead licking that sensitive virgin skin between the blonds' neck and chin. He grinds his own arousal into Sanji's hip to distract him and it seems to work as the man groans out a curse.

Zoro's teeth grasp and scrape the beard as he backs off, sucking to pull out the extra moisture and tugging lightly, teasingly on the scruff. He kisses Sanji hard and deep, and the chin is dry by the time he breathes from rubbing against his face and neck.

The cook's arms wrap around him and nails start to rake down his back. That erotic pain wasn't going to go unanswered so there is an attack of bites and kisses to Sanji's unprotected neck. His victim tries to force him away with a strong steady butt of his head but that just brings Zoro's notice back to the goatee.

He's tempted to switch his attention back to it and continue exploring the unusual pleasure it brings him.

Zoro realizes belatedly the hesitation cost him when the cooks' knees come up and grabs the sides of his chest and yanks back with leg strength Sanji really shouldn't have full control over just yet. Whatever the case he's flat on his back and the cook is on top of him and giving him this look that says he knew what shit the swordsman was trying to pull but he doesn't understand it in the slightest. That he won't be ignored in favor of some specific patch of scruff.

He knew Sanji wouldn't understand but he needs him to know that it isn't just about that. Where the rest of the cook was graceful strength and coiled heat there was something about the smooth roughness on the mans' chin that grounded Zoro to earth, scratched his skin just enough to make the pleasure that followed it feel real, and then smoothed it over in whispered apology.

He wasn't the sentimental type (well maybe a little) but without the light annoyance…the stagey friction changing up the pleasure, he couldn't really let himself believe it was happening. That the damn cook had succumbed to him at some point along the journey and was even now smirking down at him that looked like he had come to some kind of decision that normally meant some kind of pain but could also mean perverse pleasure in the coming.

Zoro was pleased that it is the latter now that he feels the cook smile around his hard cock and slide him deep into a warm place he feels is an unreal heaven he just doesn't deserve…but there it is, the blond goatees unique feeling rubbing against his sack as the cook moves to accommodate his full length.

It is happening. The cook really is there. Sanji. With him. Not Nami or any other girl. Him.

He rather likes it…and from this point of view that damn scruff that he can't help but adore looks like it is helping the cook worship him right back.