Chapter Text
For some, working for the industry wasn’t just a job, it was a lifestyle. For Sanji, it was a passionate fever dream, one he’d probably beg to do even if it paid pennies. And why wouldn’t he? Living the life came with anything a young man could ever desire: fame, bragging rights and a new woman underneath him every week. Sometimes even two (or three, if he was really lucky and Nami got him a good contract with another studio). That he was partial to a good chunk of the earnings only sweetened the deal and sold him to the whole affair even more.
One could say he’d become addicted. Still, expressing his passion on camera had not been a profession Sanji had envisioned for himself when he’d been younger. But life had taken strange turns these past few years and here he was, on his stomach, eating out a goddess to the best of his abilities. A gorgeous brunette who the producers no doubt would later label as a MILF, when in fact she was just shy of 25. Perhaps there were a few caveats to life in the industry, after all, though Nami had assured him it was simply a marketing strategy and they all needed to keep their audience in mind if they wanted to make bank.
Fair enough. It didn’t really change the flavor on Sanji’s tongue and by the sounds of it, he was doing a really good job right now when he added fingers into the mix. She was right there, on the edge, her arresting beauty captured on camera for every gentleman to enjoy. The subtle twitch of her inner thigh pressing against his cheek was Sanji’s cue to redouble his efforts to push her over the precipice. What an absolutely gorgeous sight, Sanji himself could just–!
“Cut! Oh my fucking— bastard, how often do I have to tell you guys not to walk into the line of the camera.”
He was immediately ripped out of the moment and the warm, milky-soft leg slid from his shoulder as they both sat up. A true loss in his eyes, she’d tasted so sweet. Behind him, Usopp was taking off his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. Never a good sign. They had to stop filming no less than seven times already because of some mishap or another. Having a fresh-faced youth walk through the picture was apparently the last straw.
“So sorry about that,” the young man mumbled, caught frozen in the entrance way to the ‘family living room’, scratching the back of his head and adjusting his grip to the strap of his sports bag nervously. It struck Sanji as odd how his pink hair did not clash with the blush climbing up his beardless cheeks. He couldn't have been older than 20. Getting caught in the middle of rising tensions and ruining someone’s shoot was probably one of the worst mistakes a guy just starting out in the industry could make.
“For the love of god,” Pudding husked and Sanji felt the need to apologize on the boy’s behalf.
Stroking up her leg in soothing motions, Sanji tried coaxing her to lie back down the couch and sing for him again. But Pudding shook his hands off and just stood up, grabbing a silken bathrobe off the cheap aluminum rack right behind the camera set up. It did little to obscure her hour-glass figure and the way she elegantly flipped her hair out off where it had got stuck inside the collar compelled Sanji even more to see her back on the couch with her legs spread. He couldn’t wait to take that skimpy thing off her.
“Nevermind him, my dove. He’s just a stage hand. Let's get right back to it.”
She gave him a calculating look while she tied the sash with a decisive knot. She seemed ready to reassess the situation in Sanji's favor but then Penguin just had to turn off the camera and open his big stupid mouth. “Here we go again.”
It kicked loose an avalanche Sanji had been secretly dreading.
“What do you mean, again?! Huh? I'll show you again. I can’t work like this. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get off with you creeps around? If you want a genuine experience, you have to make sure it’s set up right.” She slapped the furry microphone that Shachi still dangled above them, probably out of nerves of drawing attention to himself if he lowered it.
"Get this stupid thing out of my face!"
“Darling-” Sanji tried to placate but she shrugged him off, too, stopping whatever sweet platitudes he had at the ready by holding up a hand.
"Shut it. I don't wanna hear it from someone who spends ages down there. Do you know where the clit is or not? You're all so incompetent. Urgh, it's a real turn-off. I could really use a drink."
“Uhm. Excuse me,” the stage hand who had started all this interjected with a polite cough. He was still standing in the doorway to the hallway of the rented venue. He straightened up when six pairs of eyes focused on him, distracting Sanji long enough for Pudding to slip out of his grasp.
“What is it? The catering table is at the entrance,” Usopp rubbed his forehead with a thumb. Clearly, he was as tired of the constant interruptions as the rest of them. “Just ask Franky, can’t miss him. Big guy.”
“No, that’s not... I am not a– I'm here for the Twink Breaker shoot. Part three?”
There was a pause in which Sanji was sure a needle could be dropped 5 miles out and he would have heard it. The air was layered thick with disbelief and the cloying tang of nerves. That the stage-hand was a timid O wasn’t much of a surprise, but then again he did look and acted the part - the permeating scent just confirmed it. A little bothered, Sanji straightened up from his crouch on the floor to reach for his own robe on the rack.
“Excuse me?” Usopp said into the dense silence and got out of his rackety plastic chair. It still read SMOKER in fading vinyl lettering. “What are you talking about?”
“So sorry, but this place was rented and scheduled for the shoot of Twink Breaker. You know. The gay porn series? With Roronoa Zoro.” He gained confidence during his speech, squaring his shoulders and pulling his sports bag up higher which most likely held his paraphernalia and outfit for what was no doubt a filthy, run-of-the-mill homoerotic shoot.
“What?!” Usopp said at the same time Pudding threw up her hands and announced she was leaving. “That’s impossible.”
Franky, their handyman, used that very moment to manifest first as a shadow and then a concrete shape in the dark hallway behind the, apparently, Adult Actor, shoving him aside with a gentle nudge. “Sorry, guys, I just got a call from Nami. There’s been a mix-up of schedules. We gotta wrap up and clear out within the hour.”
Sanji used the opportunity of distraction to sit down and pinch the bridge of his nose. His own erection had long flagged and he flipped the bottom of his robe over his legs to hide his nudity. In the light of this new development, it seemed rather embarrassing and out of place to strut around in his full glory; the newcomer had de facto killed an intimate tryst and Sanji’s only chance with Pudding. What shitty luck, too, he had been begging Nami for ages to arrange a shoot with her.
His first instinct was to run after her, but he squashed that impulse as soon as it arose. It wouldn’t have been a good look.
Pudding wasn’t an easy woman by any means, incredibly popular on those streaming platforms, and her appointments booked out for weeks on end. As an influencer, she made so much bank she had her pick of the big stars to satisfy her. Only the promise of getting spoiled rotten by the best lover at North Blue Studios had swayed her opinion in Sanji’s favor. She was totally worth it, though, a flower so pure and delightful, Sanji had counted down the days until he could finally embrace her.
Groaning into his hands, he now kicked the couch with the heel of his foot and cursed all the gods whose names he knew. God fucking damn it. What a motherfucking waste. Because of some shit ass gay film? Really? And she’d completely shredded his technique on top. It wasn’t his fault, okay? He'd been a little side tracked by his awe of her.
Sitting back up, he gave the couch a proper kick, noting the high pitched creak with satisfaction as it scratched up the expensive flooring. Another and he heard the wooden frame break. Try fucking on this, motherfucking assholes.
“Sanji,” Franky said in that fatherly voice which so perfectly encompassed the dictionary-perfect definition of disappointment in Sanji's pathetic explosion of rage. All three remaining men gave him a look when he just snorted at being admonished. Franky no doubt would deduct it from his wage. Sanji couldn't care less.
“Tch. Better fix it, then. I’m hitting the showers.”
~*~
The showers were, to his great annoyance, not empty. Pudding had already left, apparently, robbing Sanji of the chance to make it up to her. The only other person taking advantage of the venue’s marble facility was the other actor. Gay actor. He had his back to Sanji when he entered, soaping up his (shaved, what the heck) armpits.
“Oh, hey,” he looked over his shoulder as he noticed movement from the corner of his eye, blinking water away. Sanji really wasn’t in the mood to engage him and he just threw down his towel on a wooden bench and kicked off his sandals, regretfully realizing there were only two stalls and they were right next to each other. The only saving grace was a tiled pony wall that came up to his chest and provided a false sense of modesty.
“Sorry about that double booking, that really sucks. You want a bit of privacy? Since,.. uhm, you know. The film. Didn’t finish.”
“No,” Sanji frowned, hating to be reminded of the low simmering heat in his gut, still unaddressed.
“Okay, cool, yeah,” the other guy said, quietly scrubbing his hair before he added “I’m Koby, by the way.”
The other man had the audacity to smile at Sanji, leaning over the tiled divider and holding out a hand. A sweet little gesture, Sanji was loath to admit. And his body wasn’t too bad either for a guy, which was a horrifying thought in its own right. Even the prominent scar on his forehead was kind of cute, framed by colored hair, an outrageous pink, now darkened by the water.
It must be his own hormones playing tricks on him, urging him to rut and finish what he had started with Pudding earlier.
“Whatever,” Sanji held onto his manners by a thread, loosely giving the offered hand a squeeze before turning on the water and putting his face right into the warm spray. It felt good, washing away the anger and embarrassment of the whole fiasco with Pudding. This had been by far the worst shoot in the whole five years of his career.
Pulling at the tie keeping his hair in a neat bun, he freed it with a shake of his head, letting it fall around his shoulders to soak under the spray until it stuck to his skin. When he rubbed his face and pushed the hair out of his face, he noticed Koby was still looking at him. Or rather staring. There was a dreamy glint in his eyes, his arm on the wide top of the divider and chin resting on the back of his hand like he needed it to keep himself upright.
“What,” Sanji snapped.
“You’re him, aren’t you.”
“Mh?” Sanji deliberately cast his eyes down, watching instead how the shower gel foamed up in his palms as he waited for Koby to clarify. He hated those moments of recognition.
“Mr. Prince.”
“Yeah, so?” He recapped the plastic bottle with the shower gel and put it back where he had found it conveniently placed on the divider.
“I’ve seen all your videos. Man, you’re so hot, the way you move is amazing,” Koby continued, completely unbothered, stuck in his little fantasy-land.
“Right,” Sanji arched his brow and felt a new sense of discomfort. He’d met a few fans here and there who recognized him on the street, some guys, too, but rather than eying him up like Koby did right now they’d respectfully high-fived him. Sanji had no doubts some confused men ended up watching his materials, he’d be naive to not recognize that steamy, well performed sex trancended sexualities. Still, his videos were shot with a female audience in mind and rarely focused on him and his own pleasure. So whatever Koby was thinking right now did not align with his own understanding of the type of work he was doing.
“It’s just… the camera doesn’t do you enough justice. You’re even better up close. Those girls are so lucky~.”
“Sure. Whatever, man.”
And then Koby failed to continue to read the room and dropped another bomb. “You ever think about doing gay porn? You’d be such a hit.”
“I’m not gay.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
Sanji stopped the slow motion of his hand across his own shoulder, feeling the suds slide down his side as he tried to get his expression back under control. Coming into the showers had been a mistake. But short of kicking Koby’s head in, he didn’t know how he could get out of this situation without looking like a total, insecure coward.
“Everything, you shitty twink.” He turned to face the wall with a glare, staunchly ignoring the way Koby leaned over the divider some more to appraise his naked form. He could feel that gaze hovering around his thighs and ass. The urge to cover himself with his hands was upsettingly strong.
“But you have the skill and body for it,” Koby added helpfully but just made it worse.
“The hell I do!”
“Ah, I-I–I’m just trying to give you some advice.”
“Not needed!” He’d always gotten into trouble for having a temper around guys, no less because he’d beaten up coworkers and customers at his old job at that bastard geezer’s restaurant, which ultimately led to him being kicked out. He just couldn’t stand mouthy assholes and regardless of Nami’s reprimands, his anger sometimes still got the better of him. It poured out of him now; even in the thick fog of the showers steaming up the ceiling he reeked of it. A sharp, warning scent that had Koby flinch back.
“Okay, okay, sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you,” Koby looked properly cowed, lifting his hands in an apologetic gesture. Above all, he seemed a little frightened with the outburst and Sanji forcefully lowered his leg again from where he'd punched the tiled divider with his bare sole.
“I’m not,” he emphasized in a more measured tone and turned off the shower head. He was clean enough and he needed a smoke. Desperately.
“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t– sorry.” Koby fidgeted nervously around with the faucet as well. There was a hot blush on his cheeks that had nothing to do with the shower or Sanji’s nakedness. “I didn’t realize you’re– you know."
Sanji snorted and went over to the bench to fetch his towel. Wrapping it around his hip, he already felt more secure now that he was shielded from that invasive gaze. As he wrung out his hair, he noticed a second towel on the bench, probably Koby’s.
“O-oi, that’s mine,” Koby said weakly when he cheekily wrapped it around his head. The gay actor still stood underneath the showerhead, looking by all accounts like a drowned rat. Sanji didn’t feel much pity for him after being put through the wringer like that. If anything, the injured party was him, Sanji! First the bastard ruined his shoot and then had the audacity to make a move on him, causing Sanji to lose his composure.
Flicking him off, Sanji pushed open the door of the shower area and promptly ran into a muscled chest upon turning around. Before he registered anything else, the stink of another alpha burned acrid and sharp in his nose.
“Oh, fuck off,” he said on auto-pilot, instinctually tightening his hold on his towel, his whole back going rigid. The ultra-fit guy in front of him just gave him a pointed look, a towel slung over one broad shoulder and looking like he was completely at ease despite being woefully naked. Worse, his hair was goddamn green, like a freshly mowed lawn, standing in stark contrast to his tanned skin.
Oh great. This was starting to look too much like a punk sausage festival for Sanji and he bolted right out of there (or rather, squeezed past the large body and the door frame), drowning out the rough voice calling out to him to watch his mouth.
He couldn’t remember the last time he got dressed so angrily he ripped a shirt button. His hair was still damp, but he was not going to wait around to blow dry it, even as it slapped him in the face like a cold, wet fish while he yanked on his dress pants. Through the door of the dresssing room, he could hear the distant murmur of the shower barely covering the very manly voices from within the generous double bathroom. Motherfucking yikes. Who knew what they got up to in there. Sanji didn’t even wanna imagine.
Once he was decent enough, he stepped into his shoes (black leather, of course, polished to a shine), grabbed his duffel bag and made his way downstairs again.
There were a lot more people around, setting up their own lights and cameras, people Sanji had never met in his life before. The whole place was buzzing with activity like an ant ill high on Christmas spirit. Before, the rented villa had felt intimate, like a decadent get-away for a very private affair. Now, it looked like a world-class production was about to take place. Heck, they were even changing out the light fixtures in the ceiling, and Sanji stepped aside as a handyman with a tool box brushed past him towards the open floor space that had served as a sexy living room and now transformed into a debauched den of homosexual pleasure before his very eyes.
He hardly recognized it; even the couch had been repaired and pushed against the opposite wall, decorated with pillows and a snow-white quilt. It was a humbling experience and that irked him even more.
Clearly, Twink breaker 3 had a bigger budget, a bigger crew and if Sanji hadn't been mistaken, bigger dicks to boot. He hadn’t really taken a close look, hadn’t needed to nor wanted it, but even in the periphery of his eyesight he had been able to tell the green gorilla he’d run into in the ante-room to the showers had been well endowed.
“Are you Cavendish? You’re early.”
“Huh?” Sanji startled. More so because a warm hand closed around his elbow and less so for being addressed by the wrong name. A pale guy the same age as him had appeared by his side out of thin air and gave him a toothy grin now.
“Hah, yeah, I heard you enjoyed being fashionably late. Either way, Zoro can help you get ready. Break you in before the shoot.”
“What?” Sanji said stupidly, his mind playing catch-up of the situation as the guy tried to guide him back upstairs, towards the bathroom. He was half-naked, so freckled even his shoulders were lined with them and the shock of black hair curling around his nape and brushing his eyebrows was way too charming to befit a beta man. Even the messed up spelling of the tattoo on his arm was oddly endearing.
“Some guys have difficulty taking his knot if they aren’t prepped for it properly. He likes to do that himself.”
No, wait. This was very wrong.
Shaking himself loose from the hold, Sanji ignored the hot tingles radiating out from where the stranger had touched his arm.
“Look, you got the wrong guy.” He was met with a skeptical look.
“You’re a fit blondie with gorgeous legs. Blue eyes. Sounds like Cavendish to me.” The guy pointed at the bag he had shouldered and Sanji grabbed the strap reflexively. “And ready to go. That nervous, huh?”
“Oi, Ace, that’s one of the guys from the shoot before,” another man interjected. He looked like the director, holding a script in his hand and thankfully entirely dressed. Sanji only dimly realized one sleeve was pinned up to his shoulder.
“Ah, really? Wow, nice. You should come by again,” Ace didn’t even miss a beat, leaning to the side to check him out fully from behind, his mischievous eyes stopping at his ass. All in all, it was absolutely mortifying.
Lifting his hands and spreading his fingers, Sanji retreated towards the exit as Ace’s laugh rang filthily in his ears. Time to get out of here. Breezing past his own crew where they were packing up their equipment into black cases in the foyer, Sanji only stopped long enough to send them off with a gruff farewell-nod. Usopp tried waving him over, but he was in no mood to engage him.
He didn’t just need a cigarette. He needed a whole fucking pack and a bottle of rum.
~*~
“Who the fuck is Roronoa Zoro?” It was the first thing out of his mouth when he closed the door to his manager’s office behind himself three days later. She gestured at him to come and sit down in the half-moon of what she liked to call an arm-chair but which Sanji had long considered a torture device for his ass and lower back.
Pulling out his lighter from the back pocket first, he fell into the concrete cushions. With a flick of his wrist, the lid sprang open and a blue flame sparked to life.
“Oh no, you don’t,” Nami said pleasantly as he stuck a cigarette between his lips. Sanji lowered his lighter promptly and returned the cigarette to its previous place behind his ear without a fuss. She tapped the sign behind her anyway. ‘No Smoking’. She had it gilded, even. Sanji killed the flame.
“I’m sorry we had to cut your meeting with Pudding short.”
“Okay,” Sanji said with as little inflection as possible and dropped the heavy weight of his lighter in the inside pocket of his jacket. He didn’t like the way it left a visible outline in the fine cotton but the alternative would have been to place it on Nami’s desk and he just knew it in his bones he’d never see it again if he did.
“It was in your best interest,” Nami continued and moved the mouse of her computer with one immaculate hand. Today, her fingernails were a brilliant orange, matching her beautiful hair and the feisty soul inside her divine body. Sanji was enthralled, but not enough to miss giving her sharp look.
“My best interest?”
“Twink Breaker is too big a franchise. I cannot refuse Mihawk when he calls in a favor like that. Bastard just knows how to take advantage of my good locations.”
“Never heard of it,” Sanji groused and picked at a thread in his grey trousers.
“I’m not surprised. Zoro is just the biggest gay alpha porn star right now. Estimated net worth at 320 million Beli.”
“You’re joking.” His head snapped up, blanching.
“Never been more serious.” And she looked it, too, regarding him with a calculating spark to her beautiful amber eyes. “You know–”
“No,” Sanji interrupted immediately before she could get the rest of her words out. He didn’t know what they would be, but experience told him he wouldn’t like it one bit.
“Sanji~,” she insisted, adding a seductive lilt to his name and he’d always been weak when it came to her, especially when she leaned forward like that, her arms framing her ample chest and putting it right on display. She was wearing a summer dress with a flattering pineapple print and Sanji’s eyes dropped down to her cleavage like drawn by magnets. He’d not tried to stare when he’d first entered, but he was only a man, too. There were freckles peppering along her gentle collarbone like she had been kissed by the sun and he felt his gut flare hot.
“Yes, my love?” He choked out when she gave him that sweet, pouty face, her small chin encircled by thumb and forefinger. Curse that vixen, but he’d hear her out, and they both knew it.
“Ever considered breaking into gay porn?”
~*~
“This is a shit compromise,” Usopp said and looked about ready to throw in the towel. He was bowed over the printed schedule for their next shoot, holding his face in hands, his nose slightly bent where it poked the desktop.
“It’s either that or my ass,” Sanji was right there with him. Head on the table, only cushioned by his arms; he suddenly hated the life. Not Nami per se, just a little by proxy.
“How are we supposed to set up, film and and pack up in under three hours. That’s insane. Does she even know how much prep it takes–”
“She does. And she doesn’t care.”
“You’d have to rush.”
“Yes.”
“You hate rushing.”
“Also yes," Sanji nodded somberly, giving unnecessary weight to his words. "I’m not the quick and dirty type; those beautiful angels deserve all my attention.”
“It’s ingenious, though. Cutting the costs for the location and selling us out to Kuraigana Studios.”
“Don’t just praise her for it.”
“You just did five minutes ago!" Usopp swiveled fully around on his chair to face him accusingly.
“Well, that was then, this is now," Sanji gestured with both hands from left to right.
Usopp just muttered quiet curses under his breath and balled up the schedule to toss it into his overflowing paper bin. Pushing himself up into his seat properly, he stared at this pc screen, drumming his fingers on his keyboard absentmindedly. Sanji watched him out of the corner of one eye, through the strands of his hair.
They’d met up at Usopp’s humble home studio after Sanji had received the dreaded phone call by Nami, confirming that the business deal with Mihawk had gone through and they were all on a path to better things. Well, she was, happily emailing the crew of the new changes to the operation side of things. Together with Usopp, they’d both checked their contracts to find any incongruities or loopholes that could get them out of this mess. No luck.
North Blue Studios had left the nature of the shoots open to interpretation and in the favor of the studios’ needs. It only described the deeds and acts, but never with whom or how long specifically. Whether they had to share facilities or a crew, what amenities and concessions they could expect. Sanji had just been too naive to understand the implication at the time of signing and instead with his head in the clouds thought he’d made the best choice of his life. Stupid. So so fucking stupid.
He was only amazed she’d not pulled the carpet from underneath their feet sooner.
“It’d have to be perfect to make it from start to finish. Each position change. Angles. Lightning. Good script, too. There’s really very little margin for error.”
“Mh,” Sanji knocked his forehead a few times against the table before sitting up too and reaching for the pack of cigarettes in his jeans pocket. “Mind if I smoke?”
“Nah, go ahead. I could use one too.”
“Heh, never thought I’d see the day,” Sanji grinned and held out the pack for Usopp to snatch one out. A minute later and he almost fell over laughing from watching Usopp hack up a lung as he gave up after two puffs.
“This is vile. How can you stand this,” he croaked, waving a hand in front of his face and blinking away his tears.
“Ah, you get used to it eventually,” Sanji shrugged and with one arm behind his head, leaned back in the spare garden chair Usopp had dug out from his closet, and let the nicotine settle sweetly in his bloodstream. He didn’t mind the taste, craved it actually and after 15 years of smoking, blowing out the smoke through his nose didn’t even burn anymore.
“So, what’re you gonna do?” Usopp cleared his throat, drinking a full glass of water he had at the ready next to his speakers to wash away the taste.
“Play along, I guess. Once she sees the subs to the site go down with the decreased quality she'll switch tunes. The female audience doesn’t appreciate being treated like a wet wipe.”
“You’re not afraid of it affecting your career or, uh, prospective partners?”
Sanji was quiet for a while, smoking away and staring at the ceiling as he mulled the very valid question over in his head.
“Yeah, a little. But–”
“There’s always gay porn.”
“Fuck. You.”
Usopp just laughed maniacally, even as Sanji kicked him in the shin for his shitty gallow’s humor.