inbox for golden peacock

[cartographie]

@nami

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[romancedawn]

It's like being in a fantasy.

Fantasies are safe and private, hidden away in the dark recesses of one's mind, where no one else can see or judge. Zoro has fantasized about Nami before; he’s been drawn to her for so long, a quiet, simmering want that he’s mostly kept leashed, buried under the daily grind of crew life and his own gruff exterior. Zoro wouldn't have known how to broach the topic, anyway; he's had no practice exploring a real connection, having only known the simple, uncomplicated routine of bedding strangers he knew he'd never see again.

Being involved with Nami had been a fantasy, but not one worth risking by bringing it out into the daylight. He's glimpsed how difficult life is for women, much less a woman at sea. And he knows now what Nami has been through, why she dons emotional armor as formidable as his own. He would've been a bad crewmate and friend if he indulged his desire at the expense of her comfort, particularly if she didn't reciprocate. There's nothing more sacred, he thinks, than feeling safe with your own crew.

So, no. Out there in their real life, this may not have happened for years. Hell, it may never have happened at all.

But here, in this mindfuck of an environment, where even the air they're breathing seems to lace their senses with uninhibited desire—here and now it's happening.

And he could question that. He could go through the list of all the reasons it's a bad idea. But his ability to overthink pretty much ends when he watches her suck her own taste off his finger. "Fuck," he remarks quietly, eyes a little glazed by this peek into just how salacious she can be.

A low growl rumbles in his chest when she pushes him down, his back hitting the floor with a muffled thud. He meets her kiss with equal fervor, hands instinctively going to her waist, gripping her hips as fiercely as she's gripping his shoulders. Her weight on him, the insistent friction of her cunt against his clothed cock—it's electrifying, and the feeling shoots straight through him, bypassing thought and going directly to instinct.

He deepens the kiss, his tongue tangling with hers. He imagines that they're both tasting her slick like this, and the primal possessiveness that flares within him is both startling and unstoppable.

When she pulls away to close the curtain, his grip begins to tighten on her hips until he realizes she isn't leaving. No, she's right here, she's back, and he's kissing her again, his hips bucking beneath her, his hands roving and squeezing her ass, pulling her closer. Now he's the greedy one.

Breaking the kiss, his breath comes in ragged gasps. And when he speaks, his voice is rough and lower than usual, tinged with a raw edge of desire he doesn’t bother to hide. "Nami..." It’s more of a breathy sound than a word, laced with a question, an affirmation, and the burgeoning heat inside him ready to explode.

He doesn't mean to, really, but when his hands slip under her skirt to dispose of her panties, he doesn't so much pull them off as... rip them apart. And he just knows, without ever being in this situation before, that it's the kind of thing she'd fuss about, so he pulls her in by the nape to kiss her again, his free hand fumbling to undo his pants because dammit, he's so hard that it hurts. "I need you," he whispers against her lips, teeth catching on her skin, nipping playfully even when all he wants to do is beg for her.

[cartographie]

The air feels warm and charged, imbued with every heartbeat Zoro makes her skip– when he speaks, when he growls, when he moves against her and the pressure of his cock against the wet heat roiling between her thighs make her breath catch and the muscles of her inner thighs twitch. Fresh heat runs through her as he kisses her and lets her push him to lay back, the warm, solid, strength of his shape blotting out any hope of rational thought, lighting her up from within. He's here, and he wants her like she's thought about wanting him more times than she'll ever admit to.

Because Zoro is complicated. For the first time in a long time, she found people she wanted to be her friend, and while Luffy's brand of relentless kindness could win over a Sea King, Zoro made her feel understood. Not that he knew anything about her until the guys turned up at her sister's and Nami's secrets stopped keeping themselves, but he matched her down-to-earth, dry approach. At times (especially during moments of violence against clowns) they've fallen seamlessly into an unspoken accord, like they could exchange nothing more than a pointed glance and understand one another perfectly.

Kissing him for the first time feels like finding that accord all over again, but amplified. There's no hope of evading the rise he gets out of her, or the way it leaves her reeling. He has to be able to hear, if not feel, Nami's heart thudding hard against her ribs, while his hands knead and clutch at her, demanding in the quietly intense way she's learning he is. She meets those demands measure for measure.

The voracity of his touch is mirrored in her hands as they knead his shoulders insistently, before eagerness and impatience wins again, and the flats of her fingers lead the way lower only to curl in his shirt, grasping the fabric as he says her name. Even as the ache burning through her rises, Nami's hips go still in surprise, leaving her pressed flush and needy against him, wet enough to leave a darkened patch on the front of his pants, unwittingly giving him what he asked for. The soft sweetness in his voice leaves her searching his face, her lips parted and already swollen from the force of those kisses, while heavy-lidded eyes search his face, partly concealed behind her lashes. He's beautiful. She missed him.

"Zoro," she answers, as the fingertips of one hand trace his jaw, and the taste of his mouth and her cunt linger on the tip of her tongue. What else could she say in the face of all this? It's beautiful, so beautiful, Nami doesn't realize what's happening when the fabric of her panties goes tight against her body before going slack and falling away as Zoro rips them off, until it happens. He's right to drag her in for another kiss and spare himself from being called an asshole. Not to be outdone, or thwarted, her hands beat his to the front of his pants, swatting his away before those deft, pick pocket's instincts take the lead, unfastening them with almost unsettling speed, her hips lifting away just enough to pull them open. They're his pants, she's just better at taking them off.

A shiver runs up her spine, the anticipation building through her seeming to crackle over her skin, her touch hungry as her hand delves further between their bodies to fist loosely around the base of his cock her tongue licking into his mouth, gliding light against his as she guides him free of his pants. Another breath caught, another chance for something he says to almost give her a heart attack.

Needs her. Needs her. For so much of her life, that was the stupidest thing a person in her path could need, but with his cock hard and heavy in her hand, she thinks she could learn to like being needed.

"Show me how much," she's grinning hard enough that he can likely feel her lips curve as they press against his between giddy breaths, her thighs pressing against his hips as she lifts herself a little more, angling his cock to brush against her folds, aligning their bodies and teasing him at the same time.