Under Starry Skies

Until tonight, to Zoro, the body was merely a container. It was his vehicle, and, in weight training, his instrument. It did the basic job of carrying him around, brushing teeth, pulling on clothes, eating fried squid. Now and then, with the help of a large volume of rum, it felt more like a pleasant bath to soak in. During fights it was more of a liability, and there were those few times he wished he could shed his body altogether when the pain of too many deep slices raced through him and blacked out his vision. It was only his meat cage, not the true source of his power, and he’d spent long hours trying and trying to strengthen it to where he could let the force he knew he contained flow through and out the tips of his swords.

However, tonight, his body had surprised him with a force of its own. It wasn’t his muscles, or his reflexes, but his skin that had reacted. He had been left without cuts or stab wounds or bloody streaks across his arms; he wasn’t drained of energy; the dimness that usually came after such a battle was absent. He felt loose. His heart purred evenly. After all this, he felt secure, at home in his body in a whole new light. Every sense was magnified, from the yielding plush of the blankets beneath his tensionless back to the sweat-and-perfume smell of the dark heat surrounding him and his two companions; the tickle of fine orangey hair across his chest and silken blondness against his shoulders felt intensified, like he was three inches tall and feeling each strand like a satin rope. All modesty was gone; all concept of the world was pushed so far away that the gentle rocking of the Going Merry remained the only reminder that the three were even on the sea.

Barely aware of his bedmates, who were kissing hungrily and laughing around the sides of their mouths, Zoro looked over at the shivering flame of the candle. The wax had melted over the side of the pillar and a small wine-colored waterfall dripped onto the wooden table, cooling and hardening, glowing…

Sanji dragged his arm from underneath the dead weight of the green-haired boy’s torso and reached up to Nami, trying to stifle her giggles with his carefully mobile tongue. She fell backward onto the bed with a bounce, pulling Sanji over Zoro’s side to collapse on top of her in triumph. She felt like they were partners in crime, working together to pull off a well-executed heist. Seeing Zoro so unguarded, so totally at their mercy, had given Nami a rush she had only felt steering a treasure-laden ship back into her home port. She pulled the entirety of Sanji’s weight over her, pressing her down into the sheets, his mouth enveloping hers with a tongue like a songbird in a cage.

“Oh, Nami, you amaze me,” Sanji mumbled when she finally released him. “How do you work such spells?...” He stroked her side, sliding his hand beneath her, pulling at her flesh and smoothing it back, then skimming just the tips of his fingers along her contoured breasts like a sculptor. Her eyes closed and her breath began to catch, as though releasing it would be too painful, too wasteful. She reacted as a harp would, releasing sounds specific to the area touched, a harmony Sanji drew from her slowly and deliberately as she folded and stretched, twisting the sheets. He leaned down and drank another long kiss from her, lost in the heaviness and vertigo.

When they broke, both fell back and panted, trying futilely to catch the lost breaths the last few minutes had withheld. After a moment, Nami opened one eye and turned to look at the suspicious silence behind her. There lay Zoro as he had lain so many times out on the deck, peaceful, relaxed, and snoring away like a freight train.

“What is this?” Nami said, hauling herself up on one arm. She ran a hand through Zoro’s short, choppy hair, then shook his shoulder when that failed to wake him. He responded with a soft snort and a moan. “I can’t believe it. He’s out like a light.”

“Let me try.” Sanji brushed his hair out of his eyes, then leaned over and planted his mouth over Zoro’s nipple. A shadow of a smile appeared on the boy’s face, but he didn’t so much as stir. Sanji moved to his neck, kissing roughly, but Zoro was not to be roused. Sanji sat back and looked at Nami in exasperation.

She slid up and ran her hands down the blond’s chest, circling his body with her thighs. “Well, that doesn’t mean the night is quite over yet, does it?”

Sanji regarded the feline woman before him. Now that he had her attention, after so many months of trying unsuccessfully to gain it, he was a bit beside himself. Nami was proving to be somewhat beyond what he expected. Around her, he had always kept one eye on her incredible body, and the other on his wallet. But now it was becoming apparent that not only did this girl have the keys, she sure knew how to drive.

Her short skirt was bunched up around her hips, and a tiny little glimpse of lingerie snuck out at the connection of her strong, slender legs. Sanji trailed his hand down her belly to her final remaining clothes, feeling the welcoming heat of the cotton as she pushed herself into him, eyes never leaving his face. He pulled the lower hem down, trying to smooth the fabric out enough to remove it entirely, but the clasp prevented the maneuver. With just the hint of a grin playing around her mouth, Nami reached underneath and unzipped, letting Sanji ease the skirt from her waist before sinking back onto the quilt.

Blood coursed through Sanji’s burning cheeks as he finally took in the sight of Nami’s black lace panties, the match to her bra, tied with two small strings at each hipbone. Nami arched up, arms folded backward beneath her, and unhooked her bra with a practiced motion. She lay back and let Sanji slide the lace piece up and off her arms, displaying her white breasts. He knelt over her, finally taking in the missing pieces his imagination had unsatisfactorily provided in his mental portrait of her body. Slowly, slowly, he lowered his body over her, until the contact of the two warm chests brought his breath out in a gasp. So much skin, pressing against him, solid and delicate all at once.

Nami dragged her nails across Sanji’s back, testing the skin, the long divot of his lower back, the sudden slope of his ass. He pressed deeply into her, his cock sharp against her leg, and she grabbed his ass and guided him against her, moving in a circular rhythm. The silk slid against her softest skin, riding on its bed of wetness, and she moaned in a low, wordless song as his motion grew less careful and more forceful. His face burrowed against her collarbone, hands lifting her tits against his cheek, tongue finally finding the soft pink bud of her nipple and rolling across it. His lower body was rock hard, the muscles trained to a point beyond ordinary definition. She recalled the first time she’d seen him pinwheel his deadly boots at that asshole marine back on his restaurant-ship and sighed, knowing that she had the chance now to see these legs up close, and feel them for herself.

Sanji began a trail of kisses along Nami’s body, starting at her forehead, around her chin, down her neck and into the soft spot at her throat, then lower at her belly. He leapt down to her thighs and dragged his tongue downward, pausing at her ankles before lifting her right foot to his mouth and engulfing her toes in one fell swoop. The heat and moisture was immediate; Nami had never imagined so many nerves lay hidden between her small, manicured toes. She let her head roll loosely back as Sanji sucked each toe individually, sparing none. Once all ten had been properly serviced, the orally-fixated young man flew up and lit once again on her breasts, biting more lightly and sweetly than Nami would’ve ever thought possible.

After a few long, wonderfully tortuous minutes she became aware that he was almost imperceptibly moving south. The first kiss at the top of her silk briefs made her jump; the second, an inch below, brought her eyelids shut. Until now, he had been watching her face for her reaction; now Sanji turned his attention to the endeavor at hand. He gently inserted his face into her softness and exhaled. The heat of his breath through the fabric made Nami cry out and reach for him, grabbing his shoulders and bracing herself as he positioned himself more comfortably at the foot of the bed.

He couldn’t believe she was allowing this, but she was.

Using only the points of his teeth, Sanji grabbed the ends of the cords and pulled the knots free, letting first the left, then the right fall slack over Nami’s sharp hipbones. He picked up the lacy hem in his mouth and drew it down, pulling it free once it was past her knees. She lay in front of him, naked, beautiful, her body like a statue framed in a velvet case. He scanned her lower body, legs like the stems of flowers leading up to the triangle of reddish-brown, carefully trimmed hair at the junction. It was here he brought his face once more, and in one decisive move, opened her like an orange and kissed her deeply.

God, this was unbelievable. Dimly aware of the sounds rising from her, Nami clutched the bedsheets, wanting to thrash around and lie still all at once, pinned into place by Sanji’s tongue. She turned her head, and, finding a pillow, brought it to her mouth and bit down, trying only partially successfully to muffle her gasps and cries.

Steadying himself by grabbing both sides of Nami’s waist, Sanji moved hard, then soft; frantic and fluttering, then slow and full of pressure. Her shouts, swallowed by the pillow, were the finest music. She tasted like wine.

Nami lost track of time. She lost all concept of place, space, floating adrift in a starry ocean of fluid pleasure as Sanji tasted and slid and nibbled and lapped. It could have been hours, days, but of course the small candle burned down slowly in its gold-red puddle and showed her, when she finally managed to open her eyes, that only a few small moments had elapsed. The paleness of the boy over her danced about in the candlelight, ivory shoulders, buttery back. Sanji noticed her regarding his body; as a wordless answer he dove more fiercely into her, bringing her to a point of intensity she wasn’t certain she could handle. Finally, she realized she couldn’t.

Nami placed her hands over his face and brought his head up, leading him over her and directing his damp lips to hers, for a kiss flavored with her own taste. A growl escaped his throat, and he rolled onto her once more, driving her into the immovable body of the slumbering boy at her back. Hurriedly, she reached downward and located the clasp of Sanji’s pants, fumbling for the button drawn tight against the stiffness kept imprisoned underneath. Without breaking the kiss, Sanji reached down and opened the button with one hand, then drew the zipper down. The pants and boxer-briefs came off before Nami even had a chance to check them out, but her regret didn’t linger long. Sanji’s sudden nakedness lay against her, perfectly placed into the spaces her body didn’t fill. She ground herself against him, wincing at the scratchiness of his dark-blond curly hair against her fiery clit. The blunt tip of his penis, dangerously hard, swept through her moistness, gliding smoothly against her, and she reached down around her own leg to touch this part of him for the first time.

As her fingers came into contact, Sanji bit down on her shoulder and moaned harshly, raggedly. Nami spread her fluid across his cock with her fingertips, then bucked her hips along its length, slipping, teasing, almost letting him enter, then pulling away. Whether this was more tortuous for him or for her, it was hard to say. As her breathing sped up, his yelps falling against her ears, she felt any remaining reservations fade from her mind: she wanted this, she wanted him, right now.

Breaking rhythm, Sanji suddenly sat up and leaned over the back of the bed. Nami shot up like a rocket and stared. Before she could question, Sanji had pulled his discarded pants up from the floor of the room and was digging through the pockets like a fiend. He finally pulled out a small foil square. Cupping it in his hand, he turned to meet Nami’s eyes. He understood, Nami thought, smiling and biting her lips; I didn’t even have to say a word. This is perfect.

“You’re something else, Sanji-kun,” Nami murmured, leaning back. “Were you planning this or something?”

Sanji, struggling to tear into the corner of the wrapper, laughed. “Never in a million years. I’m just a strong believer in preparation.”

He finally pulled open the wrapper and removed the condom, then began to roll it down over himself. Nami stopped him with one hand on his face and the other over his crotch; she guided his mouth to hers as her hand took over the task of rolling it down the length of his cock. He was still incredibly hard, hot against her palm, and the silken skin seemed amazingly thin, too thin to cloak such a demanding piece of flesh. She rubbed roughly up and down several long strokes, appreciating its weight and firmness and wallowing in the last few sugary seconds of anticipation, then fell back and brought Sanji down on top of her.

Sanji pushed into her: not quite, not quite, and then her angle changed, and the heat and massive wave of pleasure blinded him, dragged him into its undertow. Nami felt engulfed in solid oceans of sensation, twisting her limbs, leaving her at the mercy of the combination and connection of their bodies. Grunting and crying like animals, Sanji thrust deeply; Nami met him at each beat and doubled the rhythm, sliding back, then rising, each time getting better and better and—

Hands wrapped around Nami’s forearms and clamped onto her wrists, steadying her. She turned with damp eyes and open mouth and looked up directly into Zoro’s face, fully awake, serious, eyebrows set in a focused position. Sanji looked up from his haze and smiled at Zoro, a smile completely without sarcasm or anger or evil in any way: a welcome. Nami relaxed, supported against Zoro’s firm chest, and his arms wrapped around her and held her steady as Sanji pounded into her recklessly. Her lips parted as her panting grew shorter and faster; her voice caught as she breathed, and Sanji’s soon joined her, perfectly in time to the rocking of their bodies. Zoro pecked a light kiss on Nami’s forehead, then her shoulder, but she was in another state completely and he didn’t want to bring her from it, not now…

The tidal motions reached a crescendo, and Sanji’s body tensed from toes to eyebrow as Nami gripped his back with aching fingers. “I’m… I’m… aaauuummmmmMMM!!!” Sanji brought himself against her in one final deep thrust, holding her at the apex for ten long seconds, then wilted against her sweat-slick chest like a wet rag.

Nami traced patterns across his back until he finally looked back up. His face was completely open. “You are so incredible,” he whispered. “I can’t even believe it.” His blue eyes widened in concern. “But you…you didn’t…”

The redhead shook her head, smiling. Drawing her hand down the scarred belly of the boy behind her, she grinned and said, “But somehow I don’t think that’s really going to be a problem.”

Zoro’s eyes flew open.