Once, she would have said it was her time with the Arlong Pirates back home that was the real proving ground for her ability to keep her expression level – and that's true, but right now Zoro is giving those harrowing memories a real run for their money. Not just his lips, but the pads of his fingers travel up her thigh, forcing every sensation to the forefront of her thoughts, compelling her to learn how his tongue feels, his lips, his hands, until there's a shuddering rise of want that leaves her fighting not to move towards his touch.
It's only when he growls that she cracks, her breath catching in a softly audible gasp as color rises up the column of her neck and over her cheeks. This should not matter. The House has its games, and Nami has learned to play them to her advantage, Luffy and Sanji have been with her for months, and the trip to intimacy with either and both of them was more of a comfortable stumble, but this–
Well, he's just a smug pain in the ass, isn't he? And, unfortunately, she likes being rankled by idiots.
"You're really just gonna stay like this?" Her leg shifts against his shoulder, allowing her inner thigh to drag lightly against his cheek. He's close enough to catch that gentle trace of orange blossom that hangs on her skin, and the way he keeps her thigh on his shoulder makes it hard for Nami to piece together a tart response that's more than telling him he could just pull her panties off rather than trying to melt them. So she huffs, the hand not on the dice reaching down to pull his hair briefly before she casts both die, and her attention is diverted by watching them land.
Grind on genitals. Naturally.
Nami twists in her seat, reaching for her drink and downing its contents, while she slides her leg off his shoulder, keeping him caught between her thighs as she sets the glass down. "I'm taking half your payout."
She shoots him a look that might have been dubious if not for the blush on her cheeks, and lifts herself out of her seat so she can slide smoothly onto his lap, straddling him, the heat roiling between her thighs pressed flush against him.
"Get my dress." It's already hiked up past her thighs where they bracket his hips, and short enough to easily be pulled over her head.
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It's only when he growls that she cracks, her breath catching in a softly audible gasp as color rises up the column of her neck and over her cheeks. This should not matter. The House has its games, and Nami has learned to play them to her advantage, Luffy and Sanji have been with her for months, and the trip to intimacy with either and both of them was more of a comfortable stumble, but this–
Well, he's just a smug pain in the ass, isn't he? And, unfortunately, she likes being rankled by idiots.
"You're really just gonna stay like this?" Her leg shifts against his shoulder, allowing her inner thigh to drag lightly against his cheek. He's close enough to catch that gentle trace of orange blossom that hangs on her skin, and the way he keeps her thigh on his shoulder makes it hard for Nami to piece together a tart response that's more than telling him he could just pull her panties off rather than trying to melt them. So she huffs, the hand not on the dice reaching down to pull his hair briefly before she casts both die, and her attention is diverted by watching them land.
Grind on genitals. Naturally.
Nami twists in her seat, reaching for her drink and downing its contents, while she slides her leg off his shoulder, keeping him caught between her thighs as she sets the glass down. "I'm taking half your payout."
She shoots him a look that might have been dubious if not for the blush on her cheeks, and lifts herself out of her seat so she can slide smoothly onto his lap, straddling him, the heat roiling between her thighs pressed flush against him.
"Get my dress." It's already hiked up past her thighs where they bracket his hips, and short enough to easily be pulled over her head.