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Endgame: Just Desserts

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To be honest, he had never believed in any divine being until he met her. Then, he had spent ages wondering what sort of sick joke the universe was trying to play on him.


Finally, between her thighs, he learned how to worship something beyond his comprehension.

Many called it sad that he could only learn through his body, but he ignored them; he used the tools he'd been provided and made the most of them, no matter what. If the only way he could express his new-found religion was through the utter satisfaction of her deep-seated desires, well, so be it.

He was a man who always performed the task set before him.


Tashigi gasped breathlessly, low and husky as her breath brushed past his earrings. The little puff warmed the gold till it was scorching, branding him as hers so completely-

Thoughts. Thinking. Too hard to do with her blunt nails raking down his-


His goddess was calling. No time for awe. He must obey her.

Zoro's own breathing was hot and shaky, rasping unevenly as the sword mistress in his arms writhed against his gentle restraint - his chest pinning her to the wooden deck of the ship, her wrists gathered above her head in one of his large hands. In his defense, he had been caught off guard - strong legs grasped his hips in an iron lock of need, a need that would not be denied any further.

He prayed there were no marine ships within 1200 kilometers, because he would be completely unable to respond should they interrupt him now-

-A tongue traced the shell of his ear down, down, down to the three golden hoops, where it retreated to allow sharp teeth and a molten mouth to bite and suck the lobe-

No marine ships, for if they should interrupt, they would learn first-hand why he was called Demon God.

"Tashigi," came a low, hungry growl, ripping from his throat as his captured deity rocked up against his only offering to her. Already teetering over an abysmal precipice of pleasure, far more sensitive than he could bear, the muffled sensation almost made him curse loudly and strive mindlessly for completion.

And this was with their clothes on. He was certain that connecting with his goddess' bare flesh would cause him to melt as surely as steel in the forge. She was the forge, his place of rebirth as she finally made him whole.

"Tashi, what have you done to me?"

Tashigi, the ex-marine turned first mate of the Bonney Pirates, was unable to reply. Even with her limited experience in such physical encounters, she could tell that their responses to each other were completely, ludicrously, ridiculously out-of-hand. She couldn't breathe without inhaling him. She couldn't see anything but him. She couldn't smell anything but him. She couldn't taste anything but him. And as for touching...

Muted electricity stroked her body as she pressed up into him, chest to chest, his legs caged between her own. He was a seething package of sin - dark and powerful and far too hot to touch, yet she wanted it all for herself, wanted to so completely submerge herself in him that nothing would ever be able to save her. If she were an angel, she would chuck the halo and the wings and throw herself into the depths of Hell all for this demon of a man.


She swallowed her moan as his tongue dived into her mouth, completely unbidden yet desperately necessary. They dueled, not so much to war for dominance as to appreciate each other's skills, twirling and clashing and parrying until her head was light for want of air. He parted from her only for a few seconds, bare millimeters away from her coral lips, so close that she could still taste his metallic tang...

She needed to be naked. Now. Her descent into sin could not be barred by mere denim and harsh fabrics. She was being reborn in his eyes, a new life emerging from the maelstrom of black that swirled and welled in his depths as he drew her closer to his core.

Yet, instead of ravaging her, he hugged her close; tenderly but with such underlying strength that she felt he was trying to meld them into one being. She clutched onto him with the same possessiveness, tears welling in her eyes as his long-repressed emotions made her body shake like a storm-ravaged leaf.

"Do you know how close I was to...? I thought...I thought you were dead and...and... You couldn't be...because I''d...I was so close to..."

No, not demon - this was truly a man. One so close to breaking the cracks were palpable in the tension of his jaw, his shoulders, his thighs.

Tashigi knew what she had to do to pull him from the shadows of What-Might-Have-Been. She sank her fingers in his lush, verdant hair and tugged his head from her shoulder, not giving him any quarter until he had raised himself to her eye-level.

"Roronoa Zoro, listen well. I'm here. I'm real. You didn't fail - in fact, I was the one who damn near lost you! You came and saved me and I am so thankful-!"

She was drowning again, drowning in the depth of another heart-rending kiss and his black, fathomless eyes filled with a tempest of emotions. He let those black windows into his soul shutter as he rolled onto his back with her still clinging to him - she would never let go, never abuse him with solitude again!

His deep, vibrant laughter rumbled through her body, shaking her still-tender torso with relief and sheer, unadulterated joy, a sound that she'd never heard from him before, but she would do anything to make him produce it again and again.

She eventually sat up, watching the change of expressions on his face as the motion made him choke on raw, molten desire. Tashigi herself swallowed thickly on the feel of it snaking through her body as she rubbed herself on his groin in idle circles.

"Tashi," he gurgled in a half-strangled moan - the sound of a man about to go under one too many times. "You shouldn't- I'm not so good at gentle, you know? The Demon God isn't just for show, and you're still-"

"Strong," Tashigi murmured, her voice dropping back down to that smoked whiskey-range that inflamed him beyond all reason. "Dammit, Zoro, I love you more than my own swords! What more does a swordswoman have to say to get claimed by you-"

Not one vessel should approach the ship within 1500 kilometers, or so help him...

Tashigi yelped as Zoro's ragged white shirt, held together only by a thick knot over her toned (and sore) midriff literally shredded itself to pieces, leaving nothing more than a tattered shower of white cotton. She glowered halfheartedly at the world's greatest swordsman as he sank the little dagger that he'd earned from Mihawk up into the thick beam over their head. His smirk told her volumes as she sat back on his knees, his large, half-reclined frame a warm throne for her beauty.

"Show off," she puffed snootily, moving to cover her modest chest with her well-shaped arms.


Zoro, eyes glittering ferally as night crept over the cabin's porthole, caught his breath on the groan that threatened to betray him. The moonlight struck her lightly-tanned body at an angle, painting her in streaks of fierce silver. She was like a half-drawn blade; beautiful, alluring, eye-catching, deadly. Speaking volumes without saying a word.

A goddess.

As her skin grew flush in a passion-driven, carmine wave, his blood both froze in his veins and raced like lava to his manhood. In retrospect, it was a scene he had viewed many times on the battlefield as his own swords became slick with blood, but it had never, ever, ever done this to him. His enemies would only grow more terrified of him, a monster half-aroused as he carved them to pieces.

She kept imbuing him with new powers and they hadn't even made it off the floor yet!

A shudder drew a corresponding moan from him, pulling him from his introspection.

A goddess, even as she squirmed self-consciously under the overly fervent gaze of her only believer.

"Stop that," she mumbled, feeling a mind-numbing combination of lust and embarrassment radiate from her core, causing her to tremble lightly. "Stop staring and something!"

"Do something?" Zoro responded harshly, his voice hiding layers of arousal that had never been tapped until now. "Tell me, my goddess, what would you propose your supplicant do?"

Tashigi squirmed again, unconsciously shredding the little restraint that Zoro held over his own lust. "How the hell should I know? You're the one that keeps taunting me! Just...just..touch me somewhere, anywhere, before I-!"

Her voice ended sharply on a luscious moan as Zoro sat right up, secured her over his hips with his large hands, and proceeded to ravage her bosom worse than a starving infant seeking milk. He nipped and suckled furiously, his pent-up devotion bursting over her like a wave, no, a tsunami of unholy solicitude that made her cry out long and loud into the night as he took full possession of her body and her soul.

She would definitely not consider herself modestly endowed anymore. He had seen to that most effectively.

Zoro could not suppress his ego-filled grin of satisfaction at the way Tashigi's head lolled back, eyes closed, hands thrust deep in his hair and clutching the sides of his head for dear life. She looked as drunk as he felt on the rich, sensual tendrils of their mutual yearning, her brown eyes slowly sliding open to hazily drink in his glistening, naked torso, slick from his struggles against her and his inner self.

She smiled so wickedly, so evilly, so much like himself that he was stunned - his goddess had fallen! The smile, so wrong and yet oh so mind-warpingly, lust-inducingly right, obliterated whole sections of his brain devoted to the idea of walking away from this woman for her own good. Her own good be damned, not when she could lick her lips like that while unbuttoning his rough, black trousers. She leaned over him with her wonderfully responsive nipples and he completely missed the way she rent their denim pants off in rapid, overexcited jerks, her nails not sparing the flesh anywhere.

His mind and mouth were on other far more pressing issues.

Despite her shivers of delight, Tashigi pulled her breasts away, gushing uncontrollably as her soft flesh came out of his mouth with a loud, slippery pop. The mischievous smirk returned as she sat back and took her time to survey her offering - all of its corded, salt-blasted, windswept, sun-baked masculinity at its prime - before leaning in again for a better sample.

Her teeth on the corded tendon is his neck had obviously severed his brain stem in passing; he couldn't breath, couldn't see, couldn't react as she bit down hard enough to leave indents in his leathery skin. Zoro blinked up at Tashigi blankly, mouth opened wide in shock.

So she did it again on the other side; sliding her body snugly against his as she nipped her way over his midriff, lingering momentarily to lave his dark nipples tighter than a bow string, then raking her own taut, wet, chocolate-coated pair over the thick muscles in his chest as she bit him slowly and deeply, sucking the sweet-salty taste that was totally, thoroughly, wholly Zoro.

She groaned before sitting up, not prepared for the backlash effect of teasing him so purposefully. She couldn't help the giggle that passed her lips as she watched him slowly blink again.

"That's for marking me in public in that bar back on...ack!"

The Demon God had been awakened, jealous and vengeful.

"You're fucking right I marked you. Oh God...woman, you should be glad that I didn't tear that dancing outfit off and take you then and there! Dammit, Tashi, you need to get this through your thick skull: you are mine! Only mine! No-one else can see you how I do!" Zoro snarled, jaw clenched tight and working madly at the thought of some other caressing, stroking, serving his personal goddess. All good intentions of making this a slow, simmering experience fell out of his head as the Ashura within all but exploded, gripping them both with a desperate need for unity now.

She was viscerally linked to his rasping, deep bass as he smoothly, impatiently, changed their positions; his nigh bellows were causing her thighs to quake, but not with fear. Oh God, she was far from fearful! Tashigi barely caught her breath before his warm, thick, steely-hard length was tapping at her entrance, nudging at the door to her damp, well-flooded temple. She was on her back but she could barely feel it as his arms cushioned her, wrapping above the swell of her buttocks and her shoulders in a vise-like, velvet-lined embrace.

Her breathing was weak and fluttery as he kissed her forcefully and thrust in, in, in, in inininininin oh God so far in! His long, shuddering groan of tightly-controlled ecstasy caused an echoing moan to issue forth from the back of her throat. He stopped half-way, his breath whistling through his clenched teeth as he pulled back one scant inch only to lodge himself in to the hilt.

She was his sheath; perfectly contoured to his every edge, supple yet sturdy, elegant without varnish or engravings. He was her blade; honed to an exquisite degree of lethality, yet completely trustworthy in the hands of a well-loved, caring expert.

As he moved, slow and sure as if this was not their first time together, finally, Tashigi felt like he was slashing her open from the inside. Each stroke impaled her to his base, where his laden pouch bounced just right against her toned buttocks and his pelvis ground against her jewel ruthlessly, precisely, and purposefully. Each thrust speared some invisible bond that kept her bound to her useless thoughts of failure. Each delicious, friction-filled slide scraped away some mental anguish and replaced it with a memory of torturous, never-ending longing for this most unlikely of heroes.

A demon turned angel.

She did not even get a chance to thank the gods above for the wonder that was Roronoa Zoro, her Demon God, her swordsman, and first mate to the Pirate King. Within a few strokes, her voice pealed throughout the cabin in wails of rapture.

He prayed with abandon as his goddess voiced her satisfaction, with a depth of devotion often reserved for pious hermit monks. He prayed for her well-being with each thrust; he prayed for her satisfaction with every retreat; he prayed each time she came, each time he could no longer hold back his own enjoyment of her divine tightness and heavenly, dew-laden shrine and exploded in her fathomless depths, delirious with the final rough, uneven stabs into heat and satiety.

He prayed that the next moment would never be his last with her.

For a dedicated man like Zoro, prayers were meant to be answered. His vision went white as his goddess took her most loyal follower as close to heaven as either could get while still on this plane of existence. Something deep inside of their souls curled around each other and the still-new sensation of acceptance engulfed Zoro in the form of a slow, brilliant smile of contentment.

His goddess was more radiant than the sun when she was satisfied. Between her thighs, Tashigi showed Zoro tangible evidence that a higher being still loved him, all of him, the man and the monster.

For the first time, he believed.