Under Starry Skies

The doorknob to Nami’s chamber rattled and twisted; suddenly, with a bang, the door flew open and slammed against the wooden desk standing just inside. Dim light spilled into the dark room, followed by a cluster of shadowed, entwined shapes – a groping mass of silhouetted fingers, hair, knees. One form broke away from the rest and stumbled in the blackness toward the far corner, where a plush double futon lay above a frame of oak drawers. In a low, coarse voice, the shape asked,

“Got a light, Sanji-kun?”

A grating of flint birthed a tiny flash of light from the remaining outlines in the doorway, and Sanji carefully cupped it and brought it over to where Nami stood, holding out a dark red pillar candle from the nightstand. As quietly as he could manage, Zoro swung the door shut, and as an afterthought pulled the desk across it as a makeshift barricade.

His dark green eyes adjusted to the flicker of the small glowing candle, and as he approached the bed he was treated to the lush sight of his crewmates already wrapped together, kissing and smiling in the waxen amber aura. As soon as he was within reach, a slender female arm reached out from the bedclothes and firmly grabbed the front of his shirt, half-untucked from the striped green band at his waist, to pull him alongside her on the mattress. On her far side, Sanji leaned inward, kicking his polished black shoes to the floor, and dove into Nami’s neck as she craned upward to meet Zoro’s mouth. He lowered himself carefully alongside Nami, who edged over to make room. Sanji, supported over her by his elbows and knees, rolled over to lay against the wall, his face never leaving Nami’s nape. She arched upward with a shivering sigh; her cat’s tongue found Zoro’s lips in the shadows, which she forced apart as her hands clasped his wrists.

Sanji’s hands were secretly busy as well, slyly pulling Nami’s shirt free, bit by bit, from her skirt. When enough pale belly was exposed, he curled down and applied a light kiss to the depression near her hipbone; she gasped loudly in her throat. She untangled her arms from beneath the two boys and lifted them expectantly over her head. Sanji, not missing a beat, slid the thin bit of fabric up, over her shoulders and around her chin, until the scrap of shirt pulled free and was tossed into the dark space of the room outside the candlelight circle.

Zoro brought one hand to rest beneath her head and, unconsciously, brought the other to his own lips as he took in the sight of the slender, bare girl against him. Her bra, black eyelet lace, lay smoothly in contrast to her creamy torso, so delicate and damp with a sheer layer of sweat. Sanji’s hair swept this surface, as unfamiliar as the moon to Zoro, but Nami’s dark eyes were riveted on the green-haired boy’s. This was permitted. This was invited. Gingerly he brought his free hand down to touch her skin, hesitant under her gaze, but upon contact she tilted her head farther into his palm and breathed a deep sound. Her lids fell, the pupils beneath full of candlelight. An echoing groan escaped Sanji’s throat as he swiftly moved up from her belly to her mouth once more, allowing Zoro full access to the expanse of tender skin.

Kissing Sanji, Nami’s thoughts flew about in a whirlpool. Never had she felt so ready to let go, to abandon her reservations. Trust came slowly or never to the girl who had spent her entire adult life alone, always on guard, always ready to fight or run. She had pretended before; acting the part of an ally to make a quick escape later from the many men she’d run across during her shaky tenure as a pirate thief, because in such a dangerous game, to get attached was to lose. And the price of losing had always been too high. Yet now, without the horrible shadow of Arlong cast over her life, and with the dread and gnawing worry of her village and sister’s safety no longer suspended over her, she was free in a way she had never felt before. The connection she had to her new crew was genuine. Even before the months of sailing had steered them into Grand Line, she had known that with these men it was different.

Through her lashes she peered at Zoro, who was stroking her stomach and lightly touching her breast through the black lace. He wore a child’s expression of amazement, a very strange effect on his features which were usually set in such a scowl or impatient grimace. She saw in his eyes the same intense focus that appeared whenever he brandished his three swords; the centering of his concentration on the task at hand. When his fingers brushed her nipple again, she pushed herself upward into his muscular hand and breathed out a deep sound; his chest caught as his hand tightened on the supple flesh so unexpectedly offered. There was power in those hands, despite the gentleness of the touch. Zoro’s chest against hers felt solid, like smooth wood or polished stone. Sanji’s slenderness, wrapped around her from behind, stood in stark contrast to the defined body cradling her from the front.

Aah yes, Sanji. Against the wall, the tall boy had managed to curl his body around to keep from putting any weight on either of his bedmates; his tongue was dancing against Nami’s shoulder blades as his hand swept from her side to Zoro’s. Nami slipped a hand inside his polyester shirt and ran it along his near-hairless chest, brushing past a nipple. In amazement, she realized it was pierced with a metal ring. She gently tugged at it and the sound Sanji made in return caused a flush of red to obscure her vision. Oh, Sanji, you sexy thing, she whispered inaudibly.

Sanji hoisted himself to his knees and, untangling his arms, undid each button of his shirt in quick succession. He leaned back in to Nami’s waiting hands, shuddering as her chill fingers met his hot skin. He reached his long body over hers to press his lips against Zoro’s, who jumped in surprise. Nami took this opportunity to pull Sanji’s nipple into her own mouth, clicking the ring against her teeth as she worked the sensitive skin with the tip of her tongue. Sanji pressed his crotch down into her thigh, crushing his erection into her leg and sliding back and forth, maddeningly slowly, as the kiss between him and Zoro picked up steam. Zoro freed his hand from where it had been trapped between the two others and pulled the shirt off Sanji’s shoulders in one motion, hurling it into the depths of the room, out of sight. He couldn’t help but chuckle; those orange spots had been annoying him all night.

Now, though, with the shirt gone, Zoro was face to face with Sanji’s very male, half-naked body. The Going Merry’s quarters were close enough that he’d seen everyone in various states of undress (even Nami, lounging in her bikini when the sun was out), but to be this close to another man in this sort of situation was something else entirely. And no, it certainly wasn’t bad. Sanji’s skin was the color of ivory, almost entirely without marks. His skin was soft like a girl’s, with lean muscles defined in the lower back; a light trail of blond hair began around his navel and disappeared into his tailored pants. A light scent rose from his skin, as though he’d applied something after bathing hours before and just the memory of it remained. Sanji noticed his careful appraisal of his form and smiled; somehow, to Zoro, his canines appeared less threatening in this situation and more… tempting.

Zoro rose up against Sanji, pressing a new kiss into existence as his hand guided Nami’s shoulders down to the sheets. He reached out into the heat surrounding the three participants and connected with Sanji’s chest, more roughly than he had with Nami. He rhythmically kneaded the muscles of Sanji’s upper arms as his jaw worked in tempo. When this kiss broke, it was Sanji who was breathless. The blond sat back and rested on his heels, looking at Zoro with a new respect.

Nami and he exchanged a glance. Then he muttered, “Something’s wrong here.”

“Yes, I’ll agree.” Nami’s eyes were slitted, dark. “Very wrong.”

Zoro turned between one and the other, suddenly confused. He sat up in concern. “Wh… what is it?” he whispered.

With a grin, Nami purred, “You’re still fully clothed.”

“H-Huh?” It took Zoro a second to register.

Sanji slithered up and smiled salaciously. “Hmm, yes. How did this happen?” He ran a hand down Zoro’s considerable pectorals, continuing further down, dragging his fingers along the green-haired boy’s inner thigh. “We must remedy the situation immediately.”

In the shadows and candlelight Sanji’s hair shone like a halo. This blond angel reached slowly around and unfastened the hooks of Zoro’s silk haramaki, pulling it free from his waist like the cord of a bell. It fell softly to the floor. At the same time, Nami had plunged her hands under the oatmeal-colored shirt and slid it up along her forearms, feeling the ridges of muscle jump under her smooth touch. Zoro sat helpless, eyes closed, feeling the sweet tickle of four hands covering every inch of him with touch: light, hard, fast, agonizingly slow. “Uhnnnhh…aaahhh…”

Working in tandem, the two each dedicated a hand to lifting the shirt free from Zoro’s body. As soon as the light hit his bare flesh, they both gasped. The scar!; she had forgotten about the scar. Nami stared at the two-foot-long railroad trail of skin seamed together diagonally across his body, the permanent seal of a man who had spared Zoro’s life by a mere millimeter. Seeing it up close, only inches away, she finally understood its seriousness. She regarded the boy’s face, eyes still clothed, breathing heavily through his teeth. He had taken this wound; he had fought with it. He had fought for her with it. She glanced at Sanji, who returned her look with a tiny nod. She brought her hand up to the scar, and, trembling, drew the tip of her finger down its length.

Zoro let all his breath out in one rush. God!! When did that part of him become so… sensitive?!? Her touch felt like knives of fire and flowers, branding him. Reflexively, his hips began to grind back and forth, connecting with someone’s leg; he didn’t know whose. Each inch of skin along the scar felt like a mile. He was aware of every molecule of air, every fold of the sheet, every tiny ridge in her fingerprint as it drew its tortuous path down his sautered torso. Sanji braced his shoulders from behind, curling his waist around Zoro’s ass as Nami leaned in and breathed wetly against Zoro’s clavicle. The second her tongue touched the scar, Zoro jumped and gasped, “Aa-ahhh!” as Sanji bore his fingers into Zoro’s arms, holding him steady.

It was torture. It was torture because he knew, far back in the corner of his mind, that at some point this would have to end.

Sanji’s sharp teeth nibbled carefully at Zoro’s earlobe, and he suddenly became aware of Sanji’s whispered sounds floating through the dimness like seagulls orbiting a mast. “So hot…” Sanji muttered, cupping Zoro’s solid ass through the thin black material of his pants. “Ohhh… I knew… knew you’d be so… “ Without hesitation, Sanji plunged his hand through the small recess between Zoro’s legs and pressed fully against his cock. Zoro instinctively thrust as hard as he could into Sanji’s palm, three short stabs and then a longer, drawn-out heave into the other boy’s knowledgeable hand.

“Roronoah…” Sanji breathed heavily, losing it a little. “I have to –“

With no further hesitation, Sanji grabbed the button on Zoro’s pants, pulled it off completely in one sharp tug, and dove into the exposed pocket. His hand found Zoro’s bare cock, rock fucking hard, and engulfed it in his vise of soft fingers. Together they let out a moan that shook Nami’s head from Zoro’s chest; she watched, mesmerized, as they rocked together, Sanji crushing his own pelvis into the boy as his hand got ruthlessly fucked by Zoro’s novice cock.

The room blacked out; farther and farther away, and he was riding a crest, over and over this maddening rollercoaster, and –

“Hhhhhaaaaaaaaahhhh!!!” Zoro cried, stiffening, pressing his face into Nami’s yielding chest, eyes shut tightly. Sanji felt the rhythm of orgasm rage through the stiff muscle in his hand; the warmth and slickness of semen soon followed. He slowed down the pace, slower and slower until Zoro’s breath caught up with him. They lay, panting, two grinning evildoers and their limp prey in between.

When his panting finally slowed to the point where he could speak, Zoro looked up and turned between the faces of his two friends.

“God, what did you just do to me?”

Teeth shone.

“I think the question should be,” Nami answered naughtily, “what are we about to do to you next?”