whooo depressing

[dustyjack.livejournal.com]

Title: Marked
Song used: Tiny Vessels by Death Cab for Cutie
Pairing: Sanji -> Zoro
Rating: R for sexual implications
Words: 300
Comments: ...I knew nothing happy would come out of me with this subject. n_n;;



With the moonlight flooding in on a quiet, still and unfamiliar room, with light breath tickling his skin, with soft hair tumbling across his chest, it was at this time that Sanji could never sleep. When the haze of alcohol wore off and his bedmate rested against him, in a delicate sort of sleep. Another night with another girl in another port. Each more beautiful than the last. Each a fantastic lover, each cooing over Sanji's sexual prowess no matter how drunk they both were.

But when the room grew quiet and sleep wouldn't come, Sanji found he wanted nothing more than to slip away. And tonight was especially difficult. His bedmate this night had been especially enthusiastic and Sanji had become, perhaps, a bit carried away. He'd never marked a woman before, but now his gaze kept moving back to the girl's neck and the few small, purple marks that had risen there.

He'd never do it again, he was sure. Even if she'd liked it, it was an ungentlemanly thing to do. But the marks only let his mind wander, to the flesh he would have no qualm in marking, in leaving dark bruises upon. Of the rough hands that he though about when he was alone, without delicate fingers to make him forget. And not for the first time, he thought that he might be missing something so much better than this endless string of girls whose names didn't mean nearly as much as he made them out to mean the next morning. Not just sexually... but something else. He wondered sometimes if beneath all that surface bickering, if there was something they shared. And all this wondering only served to make Sanji want to leave that much more.

But he was a gentleman. So he stayed.

Select lyrics:

this is the moment that you know
that you told you loved her but you don't.
you touch her skin and then you think
that she is beautiful but she don't mean a thing to me.
yeah, she is beautiful but she don't mean a thing to me.

wanted to believe in all the words that i was speaking
as we moved together in the dark
and all the friends that i was telling
and all the playful misspellings
and every bite i gave you left a mark

tiny vessels oozed into your neck
and formed the bruises
that you said you didn't want to fade
but they did and so did i that day

all i see are dark grey clouds
in the distance moving closer with every hour
so when you ask "was something wrong?"
that i think "you're damn right there is but we can't talk about it now.
no, we can't talk about it now."

so one last touch and then you'll go
and we'll pretend that it meant something so much more
but it was vile, and it was cheap
and you are beautiful but you don't mean a thing to me
yeah you are beautiful but you don't mean a thing to me