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Summary
It's so good, in fact, that Sanji does not think at all about the implications of undressing until his shirt is untucked and opened just wide enough for two large hands to dive inside of the folds, and he suddenly remembers what he put on after his bath that afternoon.
They both freeze when the pads of Pedro’s fingers come across a taut band of stretching lace instead of endless miles of soft skin.
“Oh?” Pedro inquires, pulling his face out of Sanji’s neck with one last huff of breath to look down between them.
“It’s not what it looks like,” Sanji explains in a rush of breath.
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Sanji didn't mean to wear lingerie for Pedro.