(One Piece) Marked
June 24th, 2007 21:54![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
salmon_pinkTitle: Marked
Fandom: One Piece
Pairing: Nami/Zoro/Sanji
Rating: NC-17
Words: 2703
Notes: Threesome. For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
geuna's request at ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
sanji_is_a_slut.
Summary: Mysterious interlopers would not be tolerated.
Nami lay back against the soft mattress, a lazy smile on her face. Her arms were thrown over her head, hair fanning out around her face like an aura of flames, one leg raised delicately to hook over Sanji’s shoulder, her eyes closed as she relished the sensation of his tongue moving between her legs. Oh, but it was such a wickedly talented tongue…
It was necessary, of course. When their strange little dynamic had been formed, there had been no proclamations, no commitments, no demands of monogamy and exclusive rights. But she had thought that Sanji understood what it meant to be invited into her and Zoro’s bed.
If that’s night’s exhibition had been anything to go by, clearly he needed reminding.
Sanji had retired from their drinking game early into the night, perhaps wisely. Few could keep up with Nami or Zoro when their pride had been challenged, but he’d already been somewhat wobbly by the time he’d excused himself and headed for the bar for a glass of something that wasn’t likely to give him alcohol poisoning.
He’d caught the attention of several patrons by the time he’d stumbled across the room.
Nami had watched silently as Sanji had smiled and cooed and fawned over the leggy woman with the long black hair, as he’d blushed and stuttered and tried not to let his eyes flicker down to the barely contained cleavage. And Nami had recognised that spark of interest in the woman’s eye.
It wasn’t until Zoro’s hand quietly closed over her own that she realised her fingernails had been digging grooves in the wooden table.
And then the dark haired woman’s partner had swaggered over, all broad shoulders and biceps, coming to stand behind Sanji, placing an inviting hand on his hip, and Nami had bared her teeth and Zoro’s glass had shattered in his grip.
Nami had honestly thought Sanji understood, even if neither of them had ever uttered it out loud.
From that first whimpering groan, he had belonged to them.
Zoro’s hand closed around her ankle, squeezing and massaging with his thumb, and Nami’s eyes fluttered open. There was a slight flush spreading over his cheeks, a faint sheen of sweat on his brow from tightly reined control, and she recognised his patience was wearing thin.
She sympathised, truly she did. But Sanji’s tongue was tracing ever decreasing circles across her most sensitive areas, wet strong strokes as he tried desperately to make up for his earlier discretions, flicking across and inside, rippling and pulsing.
Absentmindedly she nodded towards Zoro, and he smirked and shifted slightly, knees pressing into the mattress behind Sanji, hand sliding from where Nami’s ankle lay against Sanji’s shoulder to grip the back of his neck. Holding him still, and she felt the jerk, the frantic whine, as Zoro’s hand pulled back, fingers slipping out of Sanji’s raised ass, felt the way the vibration ripped through her, lightning dancing up her spine.
And then Zoro’s fingers returned, another pressing inside with the others, stretching and opening, and Sanji’s startled groan into her flesh had her back arching, a content sigh slipping from her lips as she raised her other leg to cross her ankles over the slippery slick skin of his back.
They’d caused chaos, of course. Well, Zoro had caused chaos, Nami had simply marched across the bar, grabbed Sanji by the arm (and she was rather proud of herself for resisting the temptation to grab him by his crotch) and dragged him forcibly towards the door. The burly man had tried to stand in her way, his girlfriend trying to grab for Sanji’s other arm, pressing herself bodily against in him in an effort not to lose her prize. Hissing that her partner was a Devil Fruit user, that Nami hadn’t a chance in hell of stealing their night’s entertainment, and Nami could put up with a lot of things, but nobody insulted her skills as a thief.
One click of her fingers and Wadou had been drawn and, Devil Fruit or none, the bar had been in tatters when they’d dragged an embarrassed and wide eyed Sanji down the street, Zoro shouting about how he wasn’t a dog for Nami to order around.
And then they’d reached the quiet inn, which had promptly emptied the second Roronoa Zoro and his current state of homicidal rage had stormed through the door, and all that intensity had turned towards Sanji, who’d at least had the decency to look cowed. And maybe a little titillated.
Sanji’s muffled moan informed her of Zoro’s fingers once again sliding free. Glancing up at where he loomed above them both, she could see the slight tremble to Zoro’s shoulders, the effort of holding back, anger and lust and the need to possess rushing through his blood.
It was with every ounce of her willpower that she gently eased Sanji’s head up and away from her, although she allowed him one last apologetic lick, one last tricky twist of his tongue.
Zoro’s hand abruptly shot out, fisting in sweat-darkened blonde locks, tugging Sanji back with no warning, and she watched Sanji’s eyes fly wide, a gasp wrenched from his open lips, as he was yanked backwards and onto his knees, back arching as he fell against Zoro’s chest. Zoro licked messily at Sanji’s face, across his jaw, over his chin, lapping every trace of Nami from the flushed skin, before forcefully taking Sanji’s mouth, and Nami had to just stop and admire them both for a moment. Muscles glistening from exertion, chests heaving for breath, Zoro’s knees knocking Sanji’s own knees even further apart, matching hisses from them both as their bodies rubbed together, and it almost seemed impossible to remember a time when she’d had to work day and night at convincing Zoro it could work. Teasing, manipulating, coaxing and outright nagging until he finally started to see past his annoyance with the other man’s presence and opened up to the possibility of it.
Sanji whimpered against Zoro’s lips as Nami rolled the condom over his straining flesh, and she couldn’t resist sliding her fingers around the base, squeezing just so, knowing the way Sanji would break away to gasp and shudder. Zoro glared at her, but there was a playful edge to it as he carefully surrendered Sanji to her arms. Watching through narrowed eyes as she took quivering hands and placed them on her shoulders, guided Sanji down to lie above her, kissing softly at his flickering eyelids as he mumbled nonsensical declarations of his love for her, always for her, never for Zoro.
His face buried itself in her hair as she hugged at his hips with her thighs, and it was Zoro’s broad hand at the base of Sanji’s spine that pushed him inside, insistent but slow pressure. Nami held him as he shivered and let the tremble flow through her, open and heady with the way he moved inside of her, shallow rolls of his hips as he struggled to control himself, Zoro’s hand not allowing him to pull back, and Nami only inviting him deeper still.
But this was punishment, and he couldn’t be allowed too long to adjust, couldn’t be allowed that time to breathe, to forget just who he was with and how very much he was theirs.
She felt Zoro’s weight dip the mattress as he settled closer, and then Sanji jerked against her, breath catching, suddenly frantic, but her arms were unrelenting as they wrapped around his neck, holding him pressed against her. Hearing every desperate noise wrenched from his throat, panted directly into her ear, as Zoro pushed inside, and Sanji was gasping and near-sobbing and his hands clawed at the sheets beside her head.
For a long moment, Nami was still, none of them able to move, just feeling it, the intensity of connection and arousal.
And then her eyes caught Zoro’s, took in the darkness in his eyes, pupils blown and wild, and a silent exchange passed between them, and Nami felt her chest seize and prepared herself.
Zoro’s hand braced itself on the mattress beside her head and a ferocious determination settled over her face and she felt Sanji hiss and groan as the spike of her own arousal at the sight shot through her and pulsed around him.
Zoro’s hips pulled back ever so slightly, and they were almost painfully slow as they rolled back against Sanji.
Nami couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her, the new sensation tearing through her, shredding her control. Feeling Zoro’s cruelly shallow thrust being echoed through Sanji, feeling him being pressed more fully into her, and she had suspected that the feel of it may have been buffered, but instead it was heightened. Feeling Zoro’s steady control being shivered apart as it travelled through Sanji, and it was like having them both inside of her, and her thighs tightened around Sanji’s legs, one hooking back so her ankle rubbed at Zoro’s calf. Her hand desperately groped for Zoro’s where it was braced on Sanji’s shoulder, her smaller fingers curling over his own.
She could see the strain of it as Zoro began to build a rhythm. Gentler than he usually was with Sanji, perhaps because he could see the way each thrust was rocking Nami, could see the flush of her face, see the way her eyelids fluttered and her nails dug into Sanji’s shoulder. He leaned forward, pressing Sanji more fully against her, awkward pressure against her sensitised chest, and his lips were brief but insistent against her own.
“Ready?” he asked simply, and she most definitely was.
“No,” Sanji moaned between them, trembling increasing as Zoro eased back.
Nami lightly petted his hair and imagined the grin she gave Zoro was similar to that of a shark.
There was no further hesitation, and the next thrust was deep and hard, and Nami let her neck arch back, let her voice be rocked loose. Forced herself to ignore the anguished wail from Sanji as he was filled completely, forcibly thrust into her own heat, taken and used and possessed, claimed, as she concentrated on her own pleasure. Experience allowed her to recognise the pace Zoro was setting, knew him to already be close, but she was right there with him, heat flashing through her blood, throbbing and on the brink. Simply lying there and experiencing it, enjoying it, and her hands grew restless as her thighs began to shake, sliding down Sanji’s sides, pinching and teasing at the flesh. She heard Zoro curse, noticed the tiny flicker of helplessness that crossed over his face, weak for it, weak for them both, and her smile grew wide.
She planted her feet against the mattress, concentrated on her arousal, let every tremble and twitch and spike of feeling centre between her legs, let the exquisite ache that tortured her grip at Sanji, felt him whine as she tightened around him, and Zoro growled as the deliberate gesture echoed through Sanji, knew Sanji was tightening reflexively around Zoro, and she wanted to laugh but she didn’t have the breath for it.
“Nn, too much,” Sanji gasped into her hair, and he sounded close to broken, but he was still wrong.
It would never be too much, not until he could surrender every part of himself to them both without question, and he so frequently tried, but he’d just had to spoil it by letting that roving eye of his lead him into trouble. And a part of her knew he’d never be tamed, and a part of her relished it, because he was the excitement, the chase, and he was always so beautifully eager to make up for his mistakes. And she knew she herself wasn’t perfect, and she certainly knew Zoro wasn’t, and Sanji fit with them just by being his perfectly flawed self.
Zoro’s hand slid out from under her own, clamped down on top of it, and his fingers squeezed at hers in time with his next thrust. Nami blinked at him, tried to focus on his expression, but lust was wavering her vision, black kissing at the edges and blonde hair sticking to her face as Sanji whimpered into her neck.
Another deep thrust that tore through Sanji and herself, and the hand squeezed at her again, and Nami eyes sparked as understanding filtered through the red haze of her mind.
She concentrated again, testing and teasing, and at the next squeeze at her hand, the next racking thrust, she let herself tremble around Sanji, thighs clamping against him, one hand dragging her nails down his side, and Sanji choked and groaned and Nami couldn’t wait any longer.
Zoro’s hand was fierce enough to hurt as it squeezed at her again, but she barely noticed as her eyes narrowed, her focus turned to her own excitement, her pleasure, and she needed, felt herself gasp and fall over the edge, let go as it flowed through her and shook through and around Sanji, turning her head slightly to bite at his ear, and she distantly heard him scream, shaking between them as Zoro snarled and she glimpsed his teeth sinking into Sanji’s shoulder before her eyes squeezed shut and everything flashed white. A chill gripped her suddenly enough that she felt dizzy, lost and giddy with it, before it settled into a uncomfortable heat, sensitive and tingling as the two men above her found their release in panting unison.
Zoro’s arm was around Sanji’s waist as he pulled back, and Nami felt a trill of sensation as Sanji slipped free from her, watching through sated eyes as Zoro unceremoniously dumped him down on the bed beside her.
A quick glance confirmed Sanji, still flushed and trembling slightly, had lost consciousness.
Nami stretched out across the bed, muscles heated and adrenalin giving way to a haze of content tiredness. She rolled onto her side, brushing the damp hair from Sanji’s sleeping face, before glancing up at Zoro, who’d moved to the window. He raised his arms above him, rolling on to the balls of his feet, stretching and groaning slightly under his breath before the tension eased out of his shoulders and spine, and Nami felt a lazy spike of arousal and wondered when Sanji would wake up.
She hadn’t realised her eyes had drifted shut until Zoro’s quiet voice broke through the silence.
“You know the inn keeper and customers we scared away?” he asked, voice gruff and abused.
“You scared away,” Nami correctly, snuggling closer to Sanji’s prone form. “Handy, though. It meant I didn’t have to pay for the room.”
Zoro clicked his tongue but clearly respected the afterglow too much to ruin it with a cheap dig or insult about money. “Well, they’re back,” he informed her, watching something out on the street, something that was making enough noise to reach Nami’s tired ears. “They brought Marines.”
Nami’s eyes snapped wide open.
And then everything was a frantic scramble for clothes, with Nami having to give up on her bra, which had apparently gotten lost at some point (and was her favourite, which meant Zoro would be buying her a new one) and Zoro being forced to dress a still-unconscious Sanji, and managing to put on his shoes before his trousers.
“At least take off his condom!” Nami snapped, slipping Sanji’s jacket over her shoulders and his tie around her neck to save time.
Zoro grunted, giving up on trying to fasten the buttons to Sanji’s shirt, before hefting him over one shoulder and wrapping one arm around Nami’s waist.
“What the hell are you doing?” she practically shrieked as he lifted her off the ground.
“Quicker than the stairs,” Zoro muttered, kicking open the window and not seeming the least bit bothered that they were on the third floor.
Nami screamed, and Sanji still didn’t wake up, and Zoro was running through the streets the second his boots hit the paving stones, yelling that Nami’s instructions weren’t clear and that it wasn’t his fault they were getting lost, and Nami decided the whole thing was definitely Sanji’s fault and that he’d need to be punished again the following evening.
Fandom: One Piece
Pairing: Nami/Zoro/Sanji
Rating: NC-17
Words: 2703
Notes: Threesome. For
geuna's request at sanji_is_a_slut.Summary: Mysterious interlopers would not be tolerated.
Nami lay back against the soft mattress, a lazy smile on her face. Her arms were thrown over her head, hair fanning out around her face like an aura of flames, one leg raised delicately to hook over Sanji’s shoulder, her eyes closed as she relished the sensation of his tongue moving between her legs. Oh, but it was such a wickedly talented tongue…
It was necessary, of course. When their strange little dynamic had been formed, there had been no proclamations, no commitments, no demands of monogamy and exclusive rights. But she had thought that Sanji understood what it meant to be invited into her and Zoro’s bed.
If that’s night’s exhibition had been anything to go by, clearly he needed reminding.
Sanji had retired from their drinking game early into the night, perhaps wisely. Few could keep up with Nami or Zoro when their pride had been challenged, but he’d already been somewhat wobbly by the time he’d excused himself and headed for the bar for a glass of something that wasn’t likely to give him alcohol poisoning.
He’d caught the attention of several patrons by the time he’d stumbled across the room.
Nami had watched silently as Sanji had smiled and cooed and fawned over the leggy woman with the long black hair, as he’d blushed and stuttered and tried not to let his eyes flicker down to the barely contained cleavage. And Nami had recognised that spark of interest in the woman’s eye.
It wasn’t until Zoro’s hand quietly closed over her own that she realised her fingernails had been digging grooves in the wooden table.
And then the dark haired woman’s partner had swaggered over, all broad shoulders and biceps, coming to stand behind Sanji, placing an inviting hand on his hip, and Nami had bared her teeth and Zoro’s glass had shattered in his grip.
Nami had honestly thought Sanji understood, even if neither of them had ever uttered it out loud.
From that first whimpering groan, he had belonged to them.
Zoro’s hand closed around her ankle, squeezing and massaging with his thumb, and Nami’s eyes fluttered open. There was a slight flush spreading over his cheeks, a faint sheen of sweat on his brow from tightly reined control, and she recognised his patience was wearing thin.
She sympathised, truly she did. But Sanji’s tongue was tracing ever decreasing circles across her most sensitive areas, wet strong strokes as he tried desperately to make up for his earlier discretions, flicking across and inside, rippling and pulsing.
Absentmindedly she nodded towards Zoro, and he smirked and shifted slightly, knees pressing into the mattress behind Sanji, hand sliding from where Nami’s ankle lay against Sanji’s shoulder to grip the back of his neck. Holding him still, and she felt the jerk, the frantic whine, as Zoro’s hand pulled back, fingers slipping out of Sanji’s raised ass, felt the way the vibration ripped through her, lightning dancing up her spine.
And then Zoro’s fingers returned, another pressing inside with the others, stretching and opening, and Sanji’s startled groan into her flesh had her back arching, a content sigh slipping from her lips as she raised her other leg to cross her ankles over the slippery slick skin of his back.
They’d caused chaos, of course. Well, Zoro had caused chaos, Nami had simply marched across the bar, grabbed Sanji by the arm (and she was rather proud of herself for resisting the temptation to grab him by his crotch) and dragged him forcibly towards the door. The burly man had tried to stand in her way, his girlfriend trying to grab for Sanji’s other arm, pressing herself bodily against in him in an effort not to lose her prize. Hissing that her partner was a Devil Fruit user, that Nami hadn’t a chance in hell of stealing their night’s entertainment, and Nami could put up with a lot of things, but nobody insulted her skills as a thief.
One click of her fingers and Wadou had been drawn and, Devil Fruit or none, the bar had been in tatters when they’d dragged an embarrassed and wide eyed Sanji down the street, Zoro shouting about how he wasn’t a dog for Nami to order around.
And then they’d reached the quiet inn, which had promptly emptied the second Roronoa Zoro and his current state of homicidal rage had stormed through the door, and all that intensity had turned towards Sanji, who’d at least had the decency to look cowed. And maybe a little titillated.
Sanji’s muffled moan informed her of Zoro’s fingers once again sliding free. Glancing up at where he loomed above them both, she could see the slight tremble to Zoro’s shoulders, the effort of holding back, anger and lust and the need to possess rushing through his blood.
It was with every ounce of her willpower that she gently eased Sanji’s head up and away from her, although she allowed him one last apologetic lick, one last tricky twist of his tongue.
Zoro’s hand abruptly shot out, fisting in sweat-darkened blonde locks, tugging Sanji back with no warning, and she watched Sanji’s eyes fly wide, a gasp wrenched from his open lips, as he was yanked backwards and onto his knees, back arching as he fell against Zoro’s chest. Zoro licked messily at Sanji’s face, across his jaw, over his chin, lapping every trace of Nami from the flushed skin, before forcefully taking Sanji’s mouth, and Nami had to just stop and admire them both for a moment. Muscles glistening from exertion, chests heaving for breath, Zoro’s knees knocking Sanji’s own knees even further apart, matching hisses from them both as their bodies rubbed together, and it almost seemed impossible to remember a time when she’d had to work day and night at convincing Zoro it could work. Teasing, manipulating, coaxing and outright nagging until he finally started to see past his annoyance with the other man’s presence and opened up to the possibility of it.
Sanji whimpered against Zoro’s lips as Nami rolled the condom over his straining flesh, and she couldn’t resist sliding her fingers around the base, squeezing just so, knowing the way Sanji would break away to gasp and shudder. Zoro glared at her, but there was a playful edge to it as he carefully surrendered Sanji to her arms. Watching through narrowed eyes as she took quivering hands and placed them on her shoulders, guided Sanji down to lie above her, kissing softly at his flickering eyelids as he mumbled nonsensical declarations of his love for her, always for her, never for Zoro.
His face buried itself in her hair as she hugged at his hips with her thighs, and it was Zoro’s broad hand at the base of Sanji’s spine that pushed him inside, insistent but slow pressure. Nami held him as he shivered and let the tremble flow through her, open and heady with the way he moved inside of her, shallow rolls of his hips as he struggled to control himself, Zoro’s hand not allowing him to pull back, and Nami only inviting him deeper still.
But this was punishment, and he couldn’t be allowed too long to adjust, couldn’t be allowed that time to breathe, to forget just who he was with and how very much he was theirs.
She felt Zoro’s weight dip the mattress as he settled closer, and then Sanji jerked against her, breath catching, suddenly frantic, but her arms were unrelenting as they wrapped around his neck, holding him pressed against her. Hearing every desperate noise wrenched from his throat, panted directly into her ear, as Zoro pushed inside, and Sanji was gasping and near-sobbing and his hands clawed at the sheets beside her head.
For a long moment, Nami was still, none of them able to move, just feeling it, the intensity of connection and arousal.
And then her eyes caught Zoro’s, took in the darkness in his eyes, pupils blown and wild, and a silent exchange passed between them, and Nami felt her chest seize and prepared herself.
Zoro’s hand braced itself on the mattress beside her head and a ferocious determination settled over her face and she felt Sanji hiss and groan as the spike of her own arousal at the sight shot through her and pulsed around him.
Zoro’s hips pulled back ever so slightly, and they were almost painfully slow as they rolled back against Sanji.
Nami couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her, the new sensation tearing through her, shredding her control. Feeling Zoro’s cruelly shallow thrust being echoed through Sanji, feeling him being pressed more fully into her, and she had suspected that the feel of it may have been buffered, but instead it was heightened. Feeling Zoro’s steady control being shivered apart as it travelled through Sanji, and it was like having them both inside of her, and her thighs tightened around Sanji’s legs, one hooking back so her ankle rubbed at Zoro’s calf. Her hand desperately groped for Zoro’s where it was braced on Sanji’s shoulder, her smaller fingers curling over his own.
She could see the strain of it as Zoro began to build a rhythm. Gentler than he usually was with Sanji, perhaps because he could see the way each thrust was rocking Nami, could see the flush of her face, see the way her eyelids fluttered and her nails dug into Sanji’s shoulder. He leaned forward, pressing Sanji more fully against her, awkward pressure against her sensitised chest, and his lips were brief but insistent against her own.
“Ready?” he asked simply, and she most definitely was.
“No,” Sanji moaned between them, trembling increasing as Zoro eased back.
Nami lightly petted his hair and imagined the grin she gave Zoro was similar to that of a shark.
There was no further hesitation, and the next thrust was deep and hard, and Nami let her neck arch back, let her voice be rocked loose. Forced herself to ignore the anguished wail from Sanji as he was filled completely, forcibly thrust into her own heat, taken and used and possessed, claimed, as she concentrated on her own pleasure. Experience allowed her to recognise the pace Zoro was setting, knew him to already be close, but she was right there with him, heat flashing through her blood, throbbing and on the brink. Simply lying there and experiencing it, enjoying it, and her hands grew restless as her thighs began to shake, sliding down Sanji’s sides, pinching and teasing at the flesh. She heard Zoro curse, noticed the tiny flicker of helplessness that crossed over his face, weak for it, weak for them both, and her smile grew wide.
She planted her feet against the mattress, concentrated on her arousal, let every tremble and twitch and spike of feeling centre between her legs, let the exquisite ache that tortured her grip at Sanji, felt him whine as she tightened around him, and Zoro growled as the deliberate gesture echoed through Sanji, knew Sanji was tightening reflexively around Zoro, and she wanted to laugh but she didn’t have the breath for it.
“Nn, too much,” Sanji gasped into her hair, and he sounded close to broken, but he was still wrong.
It would never be too much, not until he could surrender every part of himself to them both without question, and he so frequently tried, but he’d just had to spoil it by letting that roving eye of his lead him into trouble. And a part of her knew he’d never be tamed, and a part of her relished it, because he was the excitement, the chase, and he was always so beautifully eager to make up for his mistakes. And she knew she herself wasn’t perfect, and she certainly knew Zoro wasn’t, and Sanji fit with them just by being his perfectly flawed self.
Zoro’s hand slid out from under her own, clamped down on top of it, and his fingers squeezed at hers in time with his next thrust. Nami blinked at him, tried to focus on his expression, but lust was wavering her vision, black kissing at the edges and blonde hair sticking to her face as Sanji whimpered into her neck.
Another deep thrust that tore through Sanji and herself, and the hand squeezed at her again, and Nami eyes sparked as understanding filtered through the red haze of her mind.
She concentrated again, testing and teasing, and at the next squeeze at her hand, the next racking thrust, she let herself tremble around Sanji, thighs clamping against him, one hand dragging her nails down his side, and Sanji choked and groaned and Nami couldn’t wait any longer.
Zoro’s hand was fierce enough to hurt as it squeezed at her again, but she barely noticed as her eyes narrowed, her focus turned to her own excitement, her pleasure, and she needed, felt herself gasp and fall over the edge, let go as it flowed through her and shook through and around Sanji, turning her head slightly to bite at his ear, and she distantly heard him scream, shaking between them as Zoro snarled and she glimpsed his teeth sinking into Sanji’s shoulder before her eyes squeezed shut and everything flashed white. A chill gripped her suddenly enough that she felt dizzy, lost and giddy with it, before it settled into a uncomfortable heat, sensitive and tingling as the two men above her found their release in panting unison.
Zoro’s arm was around Sanji’s waist as he pulled back, and Nami felt a trill of sensation as Sanji slipped free from her, watching through sated eyes as Zoro unceremoniously dumped him down on the bed beside her.
A quick glance confirmed Sanji, still flushed and trembling slightly, had lost consciousness.
Nami stretched out across the bed, muscles heated and adrenalin giving way to a haze of content tiredness. She rolled onto her side, brushing the damp hair from Sanji’s sleeping face, before glancing up at Zoro, who’d moved to the window. He raised his arms above him, rolling on to the balls of his feet, stretching and groaning slightly under his breath before the tension eased out of his shoulders and spine, and Nami felt a lazy spike of arousal and wondered when Sanji would wake up.
She hadn’t realised her eyes had drifted shut until Zoro’s quiet voice broke through the silence.
“You know the inn keeper and customers we scared away?” he asked, voice gruff and abused.
“You scared away,” Nami correctly, snuggling closer to Sanji’s prone form. “Handy, though. It meant I didn’t have to pay for the room.”
Zoro clicked his tongue but clearly respected the afterglow too much to ruin it with a cheap dig or insult about money. “Well, they’re back,” he informed her, watching something out on the street, something that was making enough noise to reach Nami’s tired ears. “They brought Marines.”
Nami’s eyes snapped wide open.
And then everything was a frantic scramble for clothes, with Nami having to give up on her bra, which had apparently gotten lost at some point (and was her favourite, which meant Zoro would be buying her a new one) and Zoro being forced to dress a still-unconscious Sanji, and managing to put on his shoes before his trousers.
“At least take off his condom!” Nami snapped, slipping Sanji’s jacket over her shoulders and his tie around her neck to save time.
Zoro grunted, giving up on trying to fasten the buttons to Sanji’s shirt, before hefting him over one shoulder and wrapping one arm around Nami’s waist.
“What the hell are you doing?” she practically shrieked as he lifted her off the ground.
“Quicker than the stairs,” Zoro muttered, kicking open the window and not seeming the least bit bothered that they were on the third floor.
Nami screamed, and Sanji still didn’t wake up, and Zoro was running through the streets the second his boots hit the paving stones, yelling that Nami’s instructions weren’t clear and that it wasn’t his fault they were getting lost, and Nami decided the whole thing was definitely Sanji’s fault and that he’d need to be punished again the following evening.
