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Zoro and Luffy haven’t had sex for a month.
It shouldn’t be a big deal. Zoro knows he can manage going long periods without sex. There was a time, between when he realized he loved Luffy and when he accepted Luffy loved him back, that he committed to a sort of stoic, virginal lifestyle. Now, he’s thirty-five, at the point in his life when his sex drive should be petering out.
And yet—Zoro wants.
Zoro is in the observation deck doing pushups against the steel floor, and it’s reminding him too much of the last time he and Luffy fucked. Luffy had pushed Zoro down face first into the mattress, the hot skin of his chest up against Zoro’s back. He’d been breathing in Zoro’s ear, breaking him open, and Zoro wants that again—that sensation of every ounce of Luffy’s attention on him alone.
As he strains on the four-hundredth push-up, he watches a bead of sweat splash on the metal below and wobbles, falling onto his forearms. He turns on his back, and lets out an annoyed growl.
Days after the last time they’d gone at it, the crew found themselves caught up in a week-long adventure on a strange island Nami had discovered. After Luffy had wrestled a dragon with his bare hands, he’d had enough injuries that Chopper had put him on immediate bedrest with a strong, unspoken “no sex” rule. Following that had been a week of getting hounded by the Marines, then an elaborate heist operation they’d needed to orchestrate in order to get some new ship parts Franky wanted, and finally Luffy had gone sailing with Jinbe to meet with some of their allies across the sea, leaving Zoro as replacement captain.
Luffy had just made it back yesterday morning and insisted on throwing an all-night party. When Zoro had announced “Well, I’m going to our room,” in the hopes that Luffy would follow and finally break their month-long abstinence streak, he’d just received a sloppy goodnight kiss on the cheek from his drunk husband, and when he awoke the next morning Luffy wasn’t even there in the bed next to him.
There’s nothing Zoro hates more than feeling bitter or spurned. It’s unnecessary, and it eats at him to his core. When he was younger, shoving emotions down deep inside was easy. The unfortunate thing about being in love with Luffy is that it’s softened him, and he finds emotional wounds stick around far longer than he would like. In his heart, Zoro knows Luffy is direct and loving and never out to hurt Zoro—which only makes it more frustrating, because now Zoro is just hurting himself.
The ceiling lamp above sways a little with the movement of the ship. Zoro rubs his hand over his face in defeat. He could just ask. But asking for it is like giving in. He wants to feel desired in his own selfish way.
Through the open window, he hears Luffy whoop and yell down below, something about snacktime. Zoro sits up, and grabs his towel to wipe himself down. He needs a drink, but he’s currently stuck on a two-bottle-a-day limit and there’s no way the cook will sneak him some. Maybe if he’s sneaky enough, he can pull off getting into the storeroom when no one’s looking. He puts his clothes back on and shuffles himself down the ladder, annoyance creeping up his spine. He had hoped that working out would fix his woes, but it appears to have left him just the same, yet sweatier.
When he lands on the deck, he starts attempting a casual stroll toward the storeroom. Luffy must be in the kitchen, because there’s no sign of him on deck anymore. Zoro barely makes it two feet when a sharp-nailed hand digs into his shoulder and stops him in his tracks.
Of course—Nami. He forgets often her reputation as a thief has granted her remarkable stealthiness when needed. Zoro turns and meets her angry gaze.
“Zoro,” she says.
“Nami…” Zoro replies, cautious.
“Something’s up.”
“No, nothing is,” Zoro replies on instinct. “I’m going to train.”
Nami digs her nails into Zoro’s shoulder. “No, I think something is up. And I just watched you come down from the observation deck, so I have a hard time believing that excuse.”
“I was going to train… Mentally. By staring at the ocean.”
“In the direction of the storeroom?”
“Mind your business, witch.”
Nami rolls her eyes and then grabs Zoro’s wrist. “I have a bottle of wine in my room that I will share. But only if you come chat with me. I know you already went through your rations for the day.”
Zoro has a feeling, wine or not, Nami’s not letting this go. She’s learned from years of Zoro hiding things that sometimes prying is necessary to get him out of his shell.
He grimaces. “Fine.”
Nami smiles and then drags him in the direction of the girl’s room with purpose in her step.
When they enter, Zoro sees Robin sitting in one of the armchairs like she was waiting for them to arrive. Nami locks the door behind them, as if anyone would attempt entering anyway.
Robin looks up from her book and smiles. “Welcome, Zoro.”
“You too?” Zoro groans.
“It was a joint effort,” Robin says, gesturing at the armchair across from her. “We’re worried for you.”
Zoro sits, leaning his three swords at the side of the chair, trying to steady them as they almost slip onto the floor. “Okay,” he says.
Nami pulls over a chair from the vanity and grabs the bottle of wine. “We’ve known you for a long time, Zoro. We can tell when something’s bothering you. Plus, it’s clear the captain is in a mood as well. And if both of you are down, the whole crew is down.”
Closing his eye, Zoro leans back against the armchair and sighs. “It’s nothing serious,” he says. “It’s not the crew’s business.”
“Are you fighting again? I feel like we would know if you were fighting,” Nami says, and Zoro hears the splash of her pouring wine. He’d much rather chug the bottle, but he knows that will only get him in trouble.
“We’re not fighting.” He opens his eye again, and catches Robin looking at him fondly. Nami hands him his glass, and Zoro takes a sip, deciding to savor it, given it's his only salvation for however long the girls drag this out for. “Like I said—it isn’t serious. It’s personal business.”
“Before you said it was nothing,” says Nami, “and now you say it is something, but it’s not serious.”
Zoro narrows his eye at her, and she just smiles. Witch.
“Maybe we should tell Jinbe he’s feeling down, Nami,” Robin says. “I bet he could help.”
Sitting up straight, Zoro shoots her a glare. “Don’t you dare.” The back of his neck still itches with embarrassment at the memory of the last Jinbe lecture he’d received, one that had to do with the importance of safe sex practices.
“Maybe Franky too—” Nami starts, but Zoro interrupts.
“Fine. Fine.” He slams his drink on the table, a little bit sloshing over the edge. He folds his arms and tries to channel the stern, intimidating energy he’s known for having as the right-hand man of the King of the Pirates. “Luffy and I aren’t having a lot of sex anymore,” he says, voice grave.
The following silence makes Zoro want to book it right out the door. Nami and Robin exchange a quick glance, then Nami cracks a smile before breaking into laughter. Humiliated, Zoro puts his head in his hands.
“I thought all you two ever did was have sex,” laughs Nami, and Zoro rubs the base of his palms against his eyes, red creeping up the back of his neck. When he finally musters the courage to look at them again, he finds they look far more sympathetic than he expected.
Robin sips her wine. “Well, it has been a busy month. It’s understandable.”
“Yeah, but…” Zoro trails off. “Even when it was busy, before, we always made time.”
“Isn’t that normal for couples as they get older? To be less active?”
“Not these two,” Robin says, “from my observations.”
“Pervert,” Zoro grumbles, but it doesn’t have the same sting against Robin as it might with the cook.
“Have you ever thought about, you know, asking him yourself?” Nami asks.
“Huh? Asking him what?”
“…To have sex?”
“I do that!” Zoro protests, and Nami and Robin raise their eyebrows at his sudden jolt of volume. “…Sometimes.”
“From my memory of your younger days, I feel as if it was mostly the captain inviting you to bed, Zoro.” Robin smiles, and Zoro makes a face, ignoring why she would have any knowledge of such a thing.
Zoro thinks back to the past few times he’s asked for sex. He’d felt stupidly selfish every time, and couldn’t forgive himself until Luffy had left him completely melted into the mattress. Maybe it had felt extra greedy because it wasn’t taking care of Luffy’s impulses like always. Zoro likes indulgence—eating, drinking, fighting—but even if Luffy is his husband, he’s his captain too, and being indulgent in front of the one man he’d roll over and show his back to is near-impossible.
“Maybe he’s just not interested in me like that anymore,” Zoro says, even though it feels like a lie. He knows, in a sense, that Luffy is attracted to him still. When you spend enough time with someone, you can see it in their eyes. But maybe the stamina is waning.
“Or maybe,” Nami says, standing up and trotting over to the wardrobe, “you need something to spice things up in the bedroom.” She reaches for a box on the top shelf and pulls out a pink, cylindrical object, waggling it around as Robin smiles. “Eh?” She presses a button on the bottom, and it starts vibrating with a loud noise until one of Robin’s hands reaches out from Nami’s shoulder and turns it off.
Zoro shrinks back into his seat in the chair. “No.”
Rifling through the hangers, Nami yanks out some sort of lace babydoll on a hanger that would probably split right open if Zoro ever put it on. “How about—”
“Absolutely not.”
Nami pouts. “Robin, he’s no fun.”
“It’s not like Luffy’s—bored of it,” Zoro stutters, and he crosses his arms in defense. “When we do have sex, it’s not like he lacks enthusiasm. It’s just that he’s so controlled by his desires, so the fact that he doesn’t ask me to do it as much anymore makes me think he’s not as interested.” He rubs his temple, trying to find the right words. “Like, what if Sanji made dinner, and he didn’t call Luffy for it, and then Luffy didn’t show up?”
“Wouldn’t happen,” Nami says in an instant. “He can smell food from anywhere on the ship, that’s why I go out in the submarine when I want to eat my snacks in peace.”
“Zoro, you should probably think higher of yourself than as just food,” adds Robin.
“Do you ever like…” Nami leans forward, and cups her hands under her chest, pushing her breasts together and thrusting them forward in some pantomime of sexiness. “You know, seduce him? How do you guys decide when you’re gonna fuck?”
“No.” Zoro goes for a second glass of wine. “It just happens? I don’t know.”
It used to be so natural for the two of them. They used to communicate without speaking at all. They still do, somewhat, but Zoro has found that Luffy’s maturity brings about a strange new wild card he hasn’t really been able to deal with.
“I think you guys are too stuck in your routine. Luffy hates routine—you know how boring he finds it if we do the same thing for more than a week.” Nami turns back to the wardrobe, reaching up and digging through a box on the top shelf. “I’m not saying you have to dress in leather fetish gear or anything, but you should change things up. Give him something unexpected.”
“Think about it like a battle,” Robin says, and Zoro leans forward. “You want to keep your opponent guessing.”
This intrigues Zoro. “Okay,” he says. “How?”
“Well,” Nami says, “As much as I hate thinking about you two having sex, this is necessary. Here.” She throws something at Zoro from the closet that flies at him in a blur of black nylon. “Let’s come up with a plan.”
—
After his meeting with the girls, Zoro wanders to the bathroom. The plan of attack is something Zoro’s rarely tried in all his years of being with Luffy: purposeful seduction. Usually, by the time the two of them are in bed together, Luffy’s torn half his clothes off and is already trying to shove his dick between Zoro’s legs. Zoro’s always liked that no-fuss approach, the demanding way Luffy craves sex.
(Teach him patience, Nami had said. Make him want you.)
Thankfully, the bathroom is empty. Zoro usually bathes with Luffy, so he finds there’s something lonely about being here without him. There’s a full-length mirror Franky installed about a decade ago at the girl’s request, and Zoro stops in front of it, taking himself in. Nami and Robin had told him to think about what Luffy seems to find attractive about Zoro, but Zoro himself isn’t even sure.
Grabbing the collar of his robe, he splits it open and exposes his chest. The last time they had sex, Luffy had spent a good half hour biting and sucking there to the point that Zoro had to wear bandages the next day and pretend he’d been injured. The problem is—Zoro doesn’t know how to show off his assets in a way that appeals to Luffy, when Luffy’s instincts are so unlike any other man he’s ever met.
A long time ago, under the promise of free drinks, he’d gone with the boys to a strip show on some random island they’d stopped at for supplies—since no one was going to let him go off to a bar by himself. He’d spent most of the time downing as many drinks as possible to run up Sanji’s tab, but he does remember glancing at the stage, mostly out of curiosity. There had been a dancer that came out in a silken robe and slowly shed it off her shoulders, and the men in the audience whooped and hollered like it was the most exciting thing they’d ever seen. During the whole show, Luffy’d spent most of his time ordering food and staring at Zoro. But maybe if it had been Zoro up on that stage, he’d have watched. Zoro hopes.
The coat he stole from Mihawk is no silk robe, but it’s something similar enough.
Zoro undoes the bottom two buttons above his stomach, and shrugs back the arm of his robe, exposing a bare shoulder. He can see his own red-faced expression in the mirror, and wishes that controlling his blood flow came easier to him. It feels like the older he gets, the more his body understands just how much Luffy likes seeing him embarrassed and flustered and lets his emotions be even more legible on his face.
This stupid idiot captain is remaking every part of me and he doesn’t even know it, Zoro thinks, eyebrows furrowing at his own reflection when he sees his right nipple come into view. He doesn’t know how to look sexy doing this.
He undoes the sash with a jerk of his hand, and drops the coat onto the floor with a sudden thud. He realizes, then, standing there shirtless, the major problem that comes with attempting any sort of striptease: the haramaki. Briefly, he wonders if there’s some sexy way to step out of it that he’s never considered. Most of the time, Luffy yanks it over his head or down his legs before he can really think about it very hard. Maybe he should just ditch it, to make the whole thing simpler. He yanks it up his chest, and forgets he’s still wearing his glasses, and they almost come off with it. Sighing, he crumples it up and throws it in the near-overflowing laundry basket in the corner, and glares in the mirror at the stockings he’s left sitting on the chair in the corner.
It was Nami’s idea. She’d pushed and pushed for something different. Zoro had tried to explain that Luffy doesn’t care about that kind of stuff: dressing sexy or putting on a show. Sometimes, out of the blue, he stares at Zoro and calls him “erotic” or “lewd” or a “pervert” over some meaningless thing like taking his shirt off or licking his lips, but Zoro always interpreted that more as Luffy’s latent horniness bubbling to the surface. He just copies whatever everyone else says when they find something attractive.
When Zoro was young, he’d known how to make himself appealing to men, whether with an extra button undone on his shirt or a cocky smile when they made eye contact across the bar. But Luffy isn’t most men, and Zoro’s lost touch with his age anyhow. Maybe choosing to wear something this unconventional could strike some sort of confidence within him. He drapes his coat over the sheer black stockings with their leather garters, frowning before heading to the shower.
For once, Nami’s beaten Zoro to the punch corralling Luffy to the latest meeting, perhaps because Zoro had been in the shower. When he enters the meeting room, freshly bathed and missing his haramaki, Zoro beelines for Luffy, who is slumped with a pout in his chair at the head of the table.
“Sit up straight,” Zoro says, walking up next to Luffy and giving him a gentle squeeze on the back of his neck. Luffy glances at him, and then stops slouching in his seat. People are filing in behind them, members of the Straw Hats, but also captains of allied ships and the Grand Fleet as well. Zoro knows this part of being Pirate King—the long and exhaustive meetings and planning—is Luffy’s least favorite thing. But it’s important. Luffy is free, but he has responsibilities as a captain and they’ve both always known that.
“I’m bored, Zoro,” whimpers Luffy. “Why can’t Nami just do all this stuff by herself?”
“You want Nami to be the Pirate King?”
“No…” Luffy frowns and gives Zoro puppy-dog eyes, so Zoro squeezes his neck hard enough to hurt. Luffy grunts and wiggles out of Zoro’s grip. “Fine, I’ll focus.”
Nami sits down at the chair closest to Luffy’s left, dropping a huge stack of papers on the table with a dull thud. “This meeting is the one thing you have today, and then you can go chase your own tail in circles or eat twenty hotdogs or whatever it is you like to do,” she says. “Maybe spend some time with your husband,” Nami adds, and then gives Zoro a knowing look. Luffy just looks at her confused, like he doesn’t know what she’s talking about, then sneaks a rice cracker from his pocket and eats it when she’s not looking.
She claps her hands to get the attention of the rowdy group of pirates and takes charge of the meeting room like she really is the Pirate King. Everyone associated with the Straw Hats knows that while the crew always will accommodate—and sometimes spoil—their selfish and impulsive captain, the navigator rules their ship with an iron fist, and her word is law.
As she marches through the agenda, Zoro stands by Luffy, hands on his swords. He used to sit next to Luffy in meetings, but Luffy’s penchant for handsiness got the both of them too distracted, and he struck a deal with Nami to just let Zoro stand by him instead. As Zoro stands, he realizes a couple of pirates are staring at him, and he’s not sure why. It’s not as if his Haki is picking up on any ill intent, or any suspicious behavior. It’s not like he’s covered in marks or anything, considering his sexless life for the past month, and he just was looking in the mirror earlier, so it’s not as if there’s something on his face.
He looks to Luffy, and realizes he’s staring too, eyes wide, at the place where Zoro’s robe meets the sash cinched around his waist. Luffy swallows, and then meets Zoro’s gaze, before reaching out an arm, wrapping it around Zoro’s side, and yanking him so close Zoro almost falls over Luffy’s chair and into his lap.
Zoro steadies himself on the back of Luffy’s chair, then crosses his arms. Luffy smiles, turning back to watch Nami’s presentation on Naval ship movements. His big palm is splayed over Zoro’s stomach, and when skin meets skin, Zoro realizes—the haramaki. Is that why everyone was staring?
“What are you doing?” Zoro asks, under his breath.
“Touching Zoro,” Luffy replies, fiddling with one of the buttons and not looking at Zoro. Zoro feels a burning heat forming in the pit of his stomach, and digs his fingers into his crossed arms even harder.
“Everyone’s here right now,” Zoro mutters.
Luffy turns and looks up at him. “Exactly, so I’m not letting them look.”
Zoro’s instinct is to protest, because he takes his shirt off all the time during battle. But then again, this is the man who once told Zoro that he finds the nape of his neck “erotic and distracting” so really it’s not worth the trouble. He knows Luffy operates by his own weird logic, and arguing with that is an easy way to waste time.
There is something secure about being here with Luffy touching him, even if it’s in front of everyone. He hates showing off in this way, but a unique satisfaction creeps into his chest at the idea that he can feel the way Luffy wants him right now. Luffy’s finger traces over the lines of Zoro’s abs and the downward curve of his hipbones, and Zoro grits his teeth, instead choosing to stare at Nami like what she’s talking about is the most interesting thing in the whole world. All of it reminds Zoro of how he had just been in the shower, three fingers inside himself as he pressed his forehead against the wall, thinking about the hands touching him now prying him open.
Luffy knocks his head against Zoro’s side and hums to himself like he’s pleased, and Zoro pats the top of his head once in defeat, like he’s a dog that just brought him a dead rat. He tries to focus on Nami and ignores the heat growing in his stomach, a want so strong he feels almost stupid for it.
The meeting drags on far longer than he would like, especially once Nami starts haggling with an allied fleet over dividing up a shared treasure plunder, and Zoro can sense Luffy is getting bored and antsy the whole time. By the time it’s over, Luffy practically springs out of his seat, chattering about being hungry, and it’s yet again like his sudden fixation on Zoro never existed. When Luffy ducks out under the door and onto the deck, Zoro follows him quietly, resolve hardening. He has to ask.
“Luffy.”
Luffy, whistling on his way across the deck and to the kitchen, stops in his tracks and turns around to face Zoro.
“Yea?”
“I, uh, I…” Zoro stammers, then steels himself. He is the right hand of the Pirate King, he cannot act like such a fool. He grabs Luffy’s shirt collar and Luffy’s eyebrows jump in surprise. “Tonight. I want you.”
Luffy blinks, and the wind whistles over the water, faint noise from nearby vessels scattered in the air. It’s as if it’s just the two of them on the deck, with warm evening light cast over the grass, and Zoro’s heart stops for a moment.
“I can’t wait any longer,” Zoro emphasizes, trying to gauge Luffy’s stunned expression. He usually finds he can read Luffy’s mind just fine, but the expression on his husband’s face is indiscernible. “I want you to fuck me tonight, and if you’d rather not then you can sleep on the deck. Otherwise, I’ll be waiting in your room. … Our room.” He rubs his thumb against Luffy’s chest, over the exposed scar, and stares into his eyes. “Okay?”
Luffy’s face goes red. He blinks and doesn’t say anything for a few seconds.
“Unless you don’t want to—” Zoro starts, dread sinking in. Maybe this really is it, maybe they’ve reached the bed death stage of their marriage and it’s all over—
“I want to!” Luffy exclaims loudly. “I really, really want to!” He grabs Zoro and smothers him in a huge hug that smashes Zoro’s face right into his chest. “Zoro, I’ve been waiting for you to ask!”
Zoro steps out of Luffy’s embrace and smacks an annoyed palm against Luffy’s broad chest. “What! Then you ask!”
“Well,” Luffy plays with the chain of Zoro’s glasses, looping it around his finger, “it’s not fun if we’re only doing it because I want to.” He looks a bit sheepish suddenly. “Franky says—”
“Don’t ever listen to anything Franky says about sex.”
“Let me finish. Franky says when you get old, sometimes your sex life dies down. I don’t want that to happen to us, I wanna keep having sex until we’re wrinkly skeletons!”
“Gross,” Zoro grumbles. “But, I mean—if you want me, take me. You know I’m yours.”
“Zoro’s silly. It’s a lot more complicated than that.”
“Since when do you care about complicated things?”
“I’ve always cared about Zoro, and you’re plenty complicated,” Luffy replies, and grins, proud of himself. “It’s a two-way street. Haven’t you ever considered it feels good for me when you want me, too?”
Zoro’s face runs hot. He’d been so caught up in his idea of Luffy as a man: unrestrained, free, taking Zoro when he wants him, that he had sort of forgotten that Luffy wants to be wanted too. He folds his arms over his chest, and squeaks the toe of his boot against the ground, embarrassed by his foolishness.
“...I’ll be waiting, tonight,” he says. “Take a bath beforehand.”
“You won’t do it with me?” Luffy pouts, and Zoro rolls his eyes.
“Already did it. Go on, be a big boy, you can wash yourself.” Zoro stands on his tip-toes, and gives Luffy a kiss, ignoring Usopp’s mocked retching noise in the background. He can feel Luffy barely restrain his stupid grin against his lips and feels relief from that throbbing, itching anxiety for the first time in a month.
After dinner, Zoro settles in their shared bedroom, trying not to let his nerves get the best of him. Luffy came into dinner with wet hair and an eager look on his face, a surefire sign the two of them were going to fuck tonight because—”Luffy never showers by himself unless it’s on certain orders,” as Nami said snidely.
Zoro sits in Luffy’s desk chair and fiddles with an uncapped pen Luffy had left on the desk, sighing when he pokes it at the tip of his finger and realizes the ink has dried out. Oh well.
The door creaks and in comes Luffy, who seems almost nervous, hands in his pockets, dressed down in a button-down and loose pants. “Zoro!” he says, with an excitement like it’s the first time he’s seen him in a long time.
Zoro laughs. “All good to go?”
Luffy nods enthusiastically, and starts to move across the room, presumably to start attacking Zoro with kisses like he usually does, but Zoro stops him with a hand in the air.
“Okay. Sit.”
Luffy stops. “On the bed?”
Zoro stands up, pointing behind him at the desk chair. “No. Here. And close the door, idiot.”
“Oh. Okay.” Luffy scratches the back of his head as he closes the door behind him and shuffles to his desk. The desk itself has always been a funny addition to the captain’s quarters, as Luffy rarely uses it, and for a long time it was mainly used to stack clothes that still hadn’t been put away and strange trinkets Luffy would get scammed into buying when they visited new islands. Sometimes, when Luffy wants to put something in the captain’s log, he’ll have Zoro sit there and write it down as he dictates it from the bed, but it’s a rare sight to ever see Luffy himself sit there. Whatever part of Zoro’s brain that can’t help but get off on seeing Luffy be captainly burns when Luffy sits down, resting his arms on the armrests like a king on his throne.
“You’re not trying to trick me into doing work instead of sex, right?” Luffy asks, and he reaches out to grab at Zoro’s waist. Zoro laughs and puts a knee up on the chair. The uncertain expectancy in Luffy’s eyes is getting his heart racing—he didn’t realize how fun it could be to be the one in control.
“No, you’ll get the sex. If you’re good.” Zoro reaches out, and tugs the one shining earring in Luffy’s ear before pressing a kiss to his cheek.
“I’ve been good,” Luffy sputters. “C’mon Zoro, I didn’t ask for sex for a whole month, you know how hard that was—I had to jerk off so many times and it’s always hard to imagine sex with Zoro when I’m jerking off because you always make me keep so many lights off and I can’t see you—”
“Okay, shut up, seriously,” Zoro interjects, face hot. He reaches over, and turns on the lamp on the desk. “There. Are you happy?”
Luffy nods, grinning big and wide, and Zoro has to admit the lights being on does give the bonus of getting to see his husband’s face clearer. Luffy’s cheeks are flushed, and even his stubble is handsome and charming in his distinctly Luffy way. Zoro traces his chin with a hand and then kisses him again, on the lips this time. Luffy’s hands, eager to get started, attempt to run inside Zoro’s robe and attack the bare skin. Zoro grabs his wrist to stop him, and when he pulls their lips apart, Luffy tilts his head like a lost puppy.
“Well,” Zoro says. “Enjoy it. Because you can look, but you can’t touch.”
“Huh?”
Zoro steps back off his lap and reaches to his left arm for his bandanna, wrapped tight on his sleeve as usual. He undoes it, watching how Luffy stares at him, holding his hands in the air. He’s being so good, Zoro thinks, proud. He knows how hard it is for Luffy, who is so innately physical, to keep himself from touching something he’s so greedy about.
“Put your hands up,” Zoro says, holding his in the air. “Like this.”
Luffy follows, though it seems like he doesn’t really get what Zoro is trying to do. Zoro grabs his wrists, and loops the bandanna around them when he bunches them together. Luffy looks down at his wrists, and back up at Zoro, confused, as Zoro secures a knot and admires his handiwork.
“Wait, Zoro,” Luffy says, “what’s this for?”
“I told you, no touching.” Zoro licks his lips. “And you know that’s my favorite bandanna, so you better not rip it.”
Luffy pouts, bottom lip jutting out. “I thought Zoro was the one who liked getting tied up,” he says, and Zoro makes an irritated noise.
“Be quiet. Aren’t you going to be good?”
Luffy nods furiously, and Zoro sighs, holding back a smile. He reaches up and takes his glasses off, folding them up and then tucking them in the pocket of Luffy’s shirt. Luffy, with his hands still awkwardly in the air in front of his chest, watches open-mouthed. Zoro can see the muscles under his shirt straining in an attempt to keep himself from suddenly ripping Zoro’s bandanna.
Somewhat endeared, Zoro leans in and kisses the scar under Luffy’s eye. It’s strange, because at this point usually during sex, Zoro would be on the mattress, ass up, with Luffy three fingers deep. Not that it doesn't have its own appeal, but he’s not used to such a slow pace when it comes to Luffy.
Wanting more than a kiss on the cheek, Luffy attempts to tilt his head and capture Zoro’s lips against his. Zoro, a few steps ahead, pulls away, and stands back.
“Okay,” Zoro says. “Now you watch me.” He reaches for the sash around his waist and pulls. There’s no noise in the room except for the rustle of fabric and Luffy’s nervous breathing. The sash falls away, but luckily Zoro’s robe is still buttoned and it simply sags at the loss. He kicks off his boots—he made sure to wear the slip-on ones today—and lifts the bottom half of his robe to his chest, before bunching it up and biting it between his teeth. He meets Luffy’s eyes, who’s staring at him just as intensely as before.
Zoro’s thankful for the lack of haramaki as he hooks his fingers under the waistband of his pants, and slides them down his thighs. It exposes the garters he’d secured there after getting dressed post-shower. As much as he’d been initially confused by Nami and Robin’s suggestion he wear them, he’d found them rather convenient when sparring with Brook earlier today, not having to worry about his socks sliding down in his boots.
“What are those?” Luffy asks loudly, gesturing with his elbows at Zoro’s thighs. Zoro rolls his eyes and steps all the way out of his pants, leaving him in the loose robe, his underwear, and the stockings. He lets go of the robe skirt clenched between his teeth and it covers his legs back up.
“They’re to make me look sexy,” Zoro says.
“But Zoro already looks sexy.”
“Just shut up and watch me, okay?”
“So bossy,” Luffy retorts, clearly gleeful about this whole ordeal. Zoro walks back closer, and grabs Luffy’s arms by the tied bandanna. He shoves his knee between Luffy’s spread thighs, rubbing against the growing bulge there with enough force to make Luffy squirm.
“What did I say earlier?” Zoro asks, excitement zipping up his spine. The thrill of having Luffy in the palm of his hand like this—even if it’s pretend, even if Luffy could tear up Zoro’s bandanna and walk away—rushes through Zoro like an aphrodisiac.
Luffy looks up at him, face flushed. “You said be good,” he replies, and then grunts from the back of his throat as Zoro pulls his leg away from his crotch. “I will, I will,” he says, and Zoro reaches out to ruffle his hair with his free hand.
Noticing that Luffy is sweating in his dress shirt, Zoro teasingly undoes the top two buttons as he gives Luffy the first proper kiss of the night. Luffy, clearly eager to be in a situation where he can get some kind of action, surges his head forward and attempts to jam his tongue in Zoro’s mouth, his tied hands pushing up against Zoro’s chest as if going for a grope of his breasts. Zoro yanks on the tied bandanna again, laughing at the guttural whine that slips out of Luffy’s mouth in response. When he pulls their lips away, Luffy sticks his tongue out at him like a petty kid, and Zoro grins, letting go of his arms.
“You’re taking this well,” he remarks, and puts his hands on Luffy’s knees, spreading his thighs wide.
“It’s hard. Zoro’s being a real pervert,” Luffy replies, slumping in the chair just a bit as Zoro gets down on his knees.
“I’m barely even doing anything you wouldn’t do to me,” Zoro replies with a bit of indigence. He’s thankful Luffy doesn’t wear a belt or anything fancy, because it means undoing the drawstrings on his pants is a simple task. He feels the firm bulge of Luffy’s cock pressing against his hand and swallows, fuzzy desire pulsing at the back of his head. It’s been far too long. “You just don’t know how to be patient.”
“Untrue. I’m super patient.”
Zoro just rolls his eye in response, and with a determined fervor, pulls Luffy’s cock out of his underwear without even getting his pants down. Luffy inhales and looks down at Zoro wide-eyed, like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. Usually, when Zoro sucks him off, Luffy has a tendency to grab at Zoro’s hair and close his eyes and moan like an idiot, but now with his hands restrained, he’s keeping all his attention on Zoro. It’s a bit unnerving.
Knees pressing into the hardwood floor, Zoro licks his fingers and then wraps the spit-slick hand around Luffy’s cock. Luffy is the kind of guy that will come in thirty seconds from a handjob, so he aims to be delicate. Zoro can hear Luffy’s rough breathing intensifying as he digs his thumb into the tip and jerks him off twice to warm him up. Then he takes it in his mouth, dragging his tongue along the length. Zoro’s sucked Luffy’s dick more times than he can count, but after a month, the stretch that its massive length and girth gives to his jaw feels brand new. With one hand, he slides under the hem of Luffy’s dress shirt, pressing against Luffy’s skin and pushing his back against the chair, and he can feel the fast pulse of Luffy’s heart through the warm skin.
“Zoro…” Luffy gasps. He must be trying so hard not to break through his restraints, given the way his body keeps tensing up. Zoro digs his fingers against Luffy’s hardened abdominal muscles, which keep twitching and flexing, and takes his cock deeper down his throat. As his nose presses against Luffy’s stomach, Zoro can feel his own dick hardening in his underwear. One of the sleeves of his robe slips off his shoulder, and he ignores it in favor of focusing on drawing more noises out of Luffy, whose feet are now kicking impatiently against the floor.
Zoro feels a weight on his head and glances up. Luffy’s pushing his tied arms on top of Zoro’s head and around his neck, and he starts stroking the hairs at Zoro’s nape between his still-free fingers. Zoro pulls his mouth off of Luffy’s cock, a tiny bit of spit dribbling down his chin.
“What are you doing?” he asks, voice hoarse at the edges.
“I wanna touch Zoro too,” Luffy says, voice pitiful. “Is it okay?”
Zoro laughs, wiping the spit away from his mouth. “Yeah, it’s okay. Just don’t tear the bandanna.”
“I would never—ah.” Luffy stops mid-sentence as Zoro slides his lips back around Luffy’s cock, taking it all the way to the back of his throat again. As he does, Luffy’s hips buck in a desperate attempt to fuck Zoro’s mouth, leveraged a bit by Luffy’s hands around Zoro’s neck. It lacks the usual confidence of Luffy’s selfish movements during sex but Zoro still chokes a bit, feeling the burn of his mouth being completely full up to the back of his nose. With Luffy’s hands now at the back of his head, Zoro has the odd sensation that he’s completely enveloped by Luffy in every aspect.
Eyes watering, he lets Luffy continue to fuck his mouth, but he can sense that Luffy’s getting close, and he reminds himself this is all an exercise in patience. He wraps his fingers around the base of Luffy’s cock, pulling it out of his mouth to lick along the length of it instead. He looks up at Luffy, who pulls up his hands to his chest again, and smiles.
“Zoro, I’m really gonna—” Luffy cuts himself off with a moan. It’s taken years of Zoro’s belligerent nagging to get Luffy to act a little more dignified in public, at least when he’s facing people as the Pirate King. However, during sex, Luffy’s continued to look more undignified than he’s ever been. Right now, he’s staring at Zoro with a flushed face and red-rimmed eyes, panting with his tongue out. “C’mon Zoro, let me, or else I’ll—”
Right as Zoro loosens his fingers, Luffy comes, not even giving Zoro a second to get his mouth back on his cock and swallow it down. Cum flies everywhere, splattering a little on Zoro’s face, but mostly on his chest, white liquid sliding down from his collarbone to the valley of his breasts.
“Luffy,” Zoro says sternly, licking around his mouth. “Seriously?”
He stands up slowly, as Luffy groans with embarrassment. “I told you!” Luffy says, and Zoro grips his hair, putting his other hand on the back of the chair as he crawls into his lap.
Once he’s settled, he reaches for the knot on the bandanna and pulls it apart, freeing Luffy’s hands. They hang awkwardly in the air, as if he’s not sure if he’s allowed to move them, and Luffy makes a semi-panicked expression as Zoro’s chest comes right into his line of sight.
“Lick it off,” Zoro demands, hands still in Luffy’s hair.
Luffy looks up at him and hovers his hands around Zoro’s waist, not touching but surely desperate to. “Can I?”
“Touch? Yes.” Zoro leans to the side and grabs the lube off the desk where he’s left it. When his head turns, he feels something drip onto his chest, and when he turns back, looking down, he sees a streak of red crawling down his skin. Luffy’s putting his hands on Zoro’s waist now, trying to push the robe down to get Zoro more naked, but Zoro yanks his hair again and looks at his face.
Running from his nostril and through his scruffy stubble is a streak of blood. Luffy meets Zoro’s gaze, confused and still trying to get Zoro to shed his clothes, and then glances at Zoro’s chest again. When he sees the blood, his eyes bulge, but then another streak drips from his nostril.
“You’re kidding,” Zoro says.
Luffy reaches up and wipes the blood with the sleeve of his dress shirt, laughing as he does. Zoro holds back his scold because they get blood on their clothes all the time anyway. He leans in, and licks Luffy’s top lip, tasting the sweet tang of iron as he gives him a gentle, quick kiss. Luffy’s other hand grips Zoro’s ass, giving it a firm squeeze before burying his face in Zoro’s chest and dragging his tongue along the length of the scar that crosses his chest.
When he licks his cum off of Zoro’s collarbone, he sticks out his tongue. “Blegh. Tastes gross. I can’t believe you swallow this all the time.”
Zoro can feel his face wrinkle up in immediate embarrassment. “It’s not because I like how it tastes,” he says. “It’s because—it’s…. yours… and you’d make a mess otherwise. Whatever!”
Luffy immediately laughs, pleased at himself for catching Zoro in another humiliating moment, and then bites down on his collarbone. “Zoro’s so cute,” he says, pleased, burying his face in his boobs again to clean the rest off. Zoro’s sleeve is sliding further off his shoulder, and as Luffy’s tongue grazes dangerously close to his nipple, he shudders.
Remembering the lube, Zoro uncaps it with his teeth, and grabs Luffy’s hand that’s trying to cop a feel of his ass by the wrist. Luffy looks up at him, a bit hazy eyed as Zoro takes his hand and turns it palm-up to dump a glob of lube on it. Zoro tilts his head, enough of a command for Luffy, who reaches between his legs, pushes Zoro’s underwear to the side and rubs his slick fingers against Zoro’s perineum.
“I did it before the meeting,” Zoro says quietly. “In the shower.” That makes Luffy’s throat bob as he swallows his own spit, clearly turned on. His cock, jammed between their two bodies, has clearly been hardening at a remarkable speed, considering that Zoro just made him cum minutes ago, but Luffy’s always had stamina beyond belief.
Zoro’s tightened up since then, but it’s still an easier slide for Luffy’s finger to get inside. He feels bad about the robe getting in the way, and carefully undoes the few buttons in the front holding it together. He sheds the whole thing, rolling his shoulders back and shrugging it off, and it slips into a puddle of fabric on the floor below the chair. As he does, he can feel the heat and intensity of Luffy’s gaze on him, a hot and electric desire that reminds Zoro just how much his husband wants him in this moment. It makes him feel a tad ridiculous for ever doubting that Luffy wanted him in the first place.
“Don’t get a nosebleed again,” Zoro warns Luffy, who keeps staring up at him with wide eyes.
“I’ve got it under control,” Luffy replies. His finger is sinking inside Zoro now, who makes a slight grunt at the feeling of it. Despite fingering himself earlier, having Luffy inside him is entirely different. “It’s just that Zoro’s so erotic right now, that it’s making me feel like my head’s spinning.”
“That might be the blood loss,” Zoro protests, but when Luffy’s finger taps against his prostate and Luffy wraps his lips around one of Zoro’s nipples, his train of thought goes careening off a cliff and he can’t help but moan. He cradles Luffy’s head in his hands, fingers finding his hair and clutching it again. It’s a precarious position on this chair, and the stupid stockings keep making his knees slide, but Luffy’s arm is wrapped firmly around his waist and keeping him steady.
“Is it good?” he hears Luffy ask, a bit muffled against his chest, and as he asks, he pushes another finger inside Zoro. Zoro gasps at the sudden intrusion and lets go of Luffy’s hair, looking down to meet his gaze and nodding.
“You’re being very good,” Zoro says, remembering the entire conceit of this little game they’d set up. “I’m glad I asked.” His thighs strain and tremble, and he tries not to crush Luffy’s wrist between them.
“I’m glad you asked too, Zoro,” Luffy replies, and the smile he shoots him is the same boyish grin Zoro remembers from so many years ago—the one that got Zoro’s heart racing in his chest the first time he saw it. The fingers inside Zoro curl again with a purposeful drag against his inner walls that draws out a sharp, loud gasp. His knee slips, almost sending him off the chair if Luffy weren’t there. He glances across the room.
“Bed,” Zoro commands, and Luffy obliges. Pulling out his fingers, he supports Zoro’s thighs and in a remarkable display of strength, stands up with Zoro in his arms, kicking Zoro’s robe pile to the side so he doesn’t trip over it. Zoro is reminded of the embarrassing difference in the amount of clothes each of them are wearing—Luffy’s dress shirt is undone halfway, but his pants are still mostly on and he’s even still in his boots. Meanwhile, all Zoro has on are his briefs and these ridiculous stockings.
They pass the mirror that leans against the wall as Luffy carries him to the bed, and Zoro avoids the sight of his reflection, too embarrassed to take in the contrast.
He expects Luffy to throw him down on the bed like usual, but Luffy places Zoro on top of the sheets, slow and gentle, pressing their lips together as he crawls on top of him.
Before, sitting on Luffy’s lap, it gave Zoro the impression of being bigger than Luffy, if only for a moment, like how it used to be. Now, Luffy looms over him, giving Zoro the sensation of being entirely overwhelmed by Luffy’s sheer mass. Luffy laces a hand with Zoro’s, pressing it into the sheets, and pulls their lips apart.
Zoro stares up at his husband, who’s staring down at him with a typical handsome grin, all his features more manly and sharpened with age, and feels a distinct mushiness in his chest. His immediate reaction is to grimace and that just makes Luffy laugh, squeezing Zoro’s hand tighter.
“I know that face,” Luffy teases. “That’s the face Zoro makes when you remember how much you like me.”
“...Eugh,” is all Zoro can muster in response. He reaches up with the hand not pinned to the sheets and fiddles with the buttons of Luffy’s shirt, undoing the last two. Luffy gets the signal and shrugs the shirt off, making sure to carefully take Zoro’s glasses out of the pocket and place them on the bedside table, before balling up the shirt and flinging it across the bedroom. He shakes his boots off too, leaving them piled on the corner of the bed where they’re sure to fall off and make a loud noise later, but Zoro doesn’t really care enough to lecture Luffy about that right now.
“Now it’s Zoro’s turn to be good,” Luffy says, placing both hands on either side of Zoro’s face. Zoro stiffens in place, the distinct warmth of desire welling in his stomach. Luffy leans down close and licks at the scar over Zoro’s eye. “You’ll be good for me, right?”
Internally, Zoro wants to grab Luffy and shake him and demand to know when and where Luffy learned to be so mature and seductive. Half the time, being married to Luffy feels like taming an over-excited, huge puppy dog, but it’s in moments with just the two of them he sees just the kind of man Luffy has become. And that man really, really, really, likes Zoro. Loves him, even, and knows every way to pick him apart.
“You shouldn’t even have to ask—you know the answer,” Zoro replies.
“That’s what this is all about though, silly Zoro.” He narrows his eyes, grinning down at Zoro, and then thumbs a lock of hair behind Zoro’s ear, just the touch of skin on skin there making Zoro shudder. “C’mon, answer.”
Trying to turn to the side to look away, Zoro answers, “I’ll be good.” Luffy tips his head back to face him then pushes Zoro’s legs apart, hooking his fingers over the hem of Zoro’s briefs and pulling them down. He gets them about halfway down Zoro’s thighs before getting distracted by the garters, slipping a finger under the band and snapping it back against the skin, laughing when Zoro winces.
“Luffy, come on.”
“I thought we were doing a patience thing,” Luffy replies, and Zoro groans.
“That part’s over.”
“No fair.” Luffy puffs out his cheeks as he shimmies Zoro’s briefs all the way down his legs and throws them to the side. “If Zoro gets to play, I get to play too.”
“You’re awful at that,” Zoro sighs, reaching up to hold Luffy’s cheek. Luffy’s stubble pokes at his skin, and he tilts his head to nuzzle into Zoro’s touch. “Remember when I had you tie me up and you got so annoyed tying the knots you broke the rope in two?”
“Mm,” Luffy answers non-committally, but his cheeks are flushed red in a way that says he certainly remembers. He runs his hand over this slippery fabric of Zoro’s stockings, clearly already moving onto the next thing. “Zoro’s legs are so shiny. They’re always shiny, because you’re weird and smooth all the time—”
“Hey.”
“—But this weird fabric makes them even more shiny.” Luffy grins, like Zoro should be excited that he noticed this, and Zoro rolls his eyes.
“You like it, then?” It’s always hard to tell with Luffy, who despite his obvious attraction to Zoro doesn’t seem that activated by typical sexual fare. The stockings were already pushing it, but maybe they’re more for Zoro, anyway.
“I like it. I like everything about Zoro, idiot.” Luffy turns his cheek so he can kiss Zoro’s thumb. “I just like it the most when Zoro wants me. And dressing up pretty for me means you do.”
Stomach fluttering, Zoro wraps a leg around Luffy’s back and hits him with his heel. “Insufferable,” he mutters, but it’s mostly swallowed by a kiss as Luffy bends down and presses their lips together, tongue shoving inside Zoro’s mouth with a teenage eagerness.
As Zoro attempts to catch Luffy’s lips, Luffy’s palm presses against the inside of Zoro’s thigh, spreading him wide as he scoots between his legs. Then he grabs under his waist and heaves Zoro’s lower half onto his lap. Zoro glances down and stares at the way Luffy’s cock is poking out of the waistband of his pants. Luffy shimmies them down until they’re bunched around his thighs, which makes Zoro kick his back again.
“Take them all the way off. You look ridiculous.”
“Wow, Zoro is so demanding today,” Luffy remarks as his pants and underwear come off, finally leaving Zoro the more clothed one. When he shifts them back into position, his cock slaps against Zoro’s stomach and Zoro can’t help but bite his lip. He tries to reach down and grab it to put it in by himself, feeling suddenly impatient. Luffy pushes his hand away, and when the warm heat of his cock presses against Zoro’s inner thigh, Zoro squirms in annoyance.
Letting out a teasing laugh, Luffy shifts just enough that the head is prodding at Zoro’s hole, and he inhales, butterflies suddenly in his stomach like he’s nineteen again. Luffy stares down at him, earnest smile on his face.
“Are you nervous all of a sudden?” Luffy asks.
“No,” Zoro grumbles. “Just do i—”
He’s cut off when Luffy pushes in, eye squeezing shut as he throws his head back. Zoro’s become quite used to Luffy’s sheer mass over the years, but it’s still a little shocking every time it goes in. For a brief second, he feels as if his insides are splitting open. He listens and hears Luffy’s muffled groan.
“Zoro’s really tight tonight,” he says. “Is it ‘cause we haven’t done it in a while? Usually you’re all open inside—”
“Shut up. Pervert,” Zoro retorts, face running hot. He can barely focus on anything Luffy is saying right now. He’s waited too long for this for Luffy to distract him from… well, Luffy. He feels a wet kiss on his forehead and slowly opens his eye as Luffy pulls away, stroking a big hand along Zoro’s cheek. He looks disturbingly affectionate, a heavy and sweet tinge to his gaze that makes Zoro want to squirm and run away.
“Relax,” Luffy whispers, and Zoro stares down between his legs, where half of Luffy’s cock is pushed inside him. It already feels like so much. Was it always like this? He wants to complain, to ask if Luffy made his cock bigger on purpose, but then he remembers: he’s Roronoa Zoro. He faces challenges head-on. He glares up at Luffy, determination in his gaze. Luffy mostly seems confused if anything, but somewhat excited as he pushes further inside, dragging along Zoro’s inner walls.
Zoro grips the bedsheets then finally gives in and drags a hand down Luffy’s arm as the last half of his cock slides inside. The muscle feels so firm and bulky, far from the twiggy arms Zoro remembers back in their teenage days.
“Luffy,” he says, a strained gasp, “You’re a real and proper man now.” He grips Luffy’s wrist, wanting to hold his hand but lacking the real energy to make it happen.
“Hm,” Luffy remarks, lifting the arm Zoro’s gripping and shifting to lace their fingers together, “That’s because Zoro made me this way.” His hips thrust forward, and he’s all the way inside, hot and hard and so thick that Zoro can feel it in his chest. “I’m like this now ‘cause you helped me get here. And you make me wanna be better.”
Zoro stares at him, head hot and heart thudding, feeling like an idiot at Luffy’s newfound smooth-talking abilities. It’s all the kind of stuff that couldn’t have worked on him when he was younger, when Luffy’s abrasiveness and selfishness was what made him want Luffy so bad. Now that he’s older, his heart’s gone mushy and soft. It’s fine: he’s already the greatest swordsman in the world, after all, and Luffy’s the Pirate King, and they have little left to fear.
He tries to think of some smooth response, something to get Luffy back to that flustered, vulnerable state Zoro had him in when he was tied up on that chair earlier, but he has little to go off so instead he squeezes Luffy’s fingers tight and says, “Come on, move.”
Luffy grins and then rolls his hips back. The sensation of his cock pulling back out, after carving out so much of Zoro, makes him dizzy. He squeaks out a moan, toes curling, and then Luffy pushes back in, filling him completely again. Each rock of Luffy’s hips leaves Zoro far more delirious, head spinning with delight. Luffy’s just so big. He’s always been moderately large, and able to get bigger or smaller at his leisure, but there’s a real difference between him when Luffy and Zoro started fucking and now. It used to be that Zoro would have to scold Luffy for moving so selfishly during sex, but now, he’s so big that it hardly matters, each thrust digging into spots that make Zoro see stars without having to even try.
“Feels good?” Luffy asks. Zoro nods, closing his eye, unable to bear how handsome Luffy looks right now and how embarrassing his own expression must be. Luffy’s always loved missionary for this exact reason, so they can stare at each other, but for Zoro—who’s weak to Luffy’s handsome face and awkward under his persistent gaze—it’s a bit humiliating.
“Give me a kiss,” Zoro says, voice sounding like it’s coming from somewhere else. He’s desperate and Luffy is moving faster now, his boundless stamina during these kinds of things unthinkable as always. Zoro reaches up blindly and grabs Luffy’s hair as their mouths meet, and almost chokes on Luffy’s tongue as it shoves into his mouth. There’s a distinct ache in Zoro’s hips, and he feels Luffy let go of his hand in order to grab his waist and lift his hips even higher, like he’s going to piledrive him into the bed. His hands cling to Luffy’s face, forgiving the sloppy kissing technique because the way he’s being fucked is too good to complain about. The new angle makes Luffy’s cock reach so deep Zoro swears it’s in his stomach, and he wonders in a haze of pleasure why he doesn’t just ask Luffy for this every single day.
Luffy makes a puppydog whine when Zoro pulls his hair too hard, so he releases it from his fingers and settles on wrapping his arms around Luffy’s neck instead. He forces himself to look at Luffy as their mouths part, even though he knows his eyes are watering and his mouth is covered in spit. He’s full, so full, and each time Luffy’s thumbs press into the skin at his hips, a rush of pleasure floods him. He doesn’t know how to control himself whenever he gets to this point.
"Zoro,” Luffy says, his eyebrows creasing, “I’m close,”
Zoro wants to slap him, because it hasn’t even been that long since Luffy put it in, but he can’t even fault him. He’s close, too, and he’s barely touched his own cock, which is leaking against his abs as it shakes with the movement of his body. The onset of an orgasm, deep and all-encompassing, is burning at the pits of his stomach. He curses under his breath, sweaty palms gripping Luffy’s neck and thighs trembling as Luffy keeps hitting deep inside him.
“Are you okay, Zoro?” Luffy asks, in that innocent tone of voice that only ends up making Zoro feel dirtier.
“Yes, just keep—keep going,” Zoro chokes, and tries his best to summon his determined stare again.
Luffy grins, and Zoro huffs out a sigh that becomes more of a moan. He’s right at the edge. He wants Luffy to come inside—he wants Luffy, hot and heavy, inside of him as much as possible. The sticky noise of their sweaty skin and the lube is starting to fade out of Zoro’s notice, too focused on Luffy’s heavy panting and body weight on top of him. Perhaps, tomorrow night, he’ll ask to be taken from behind.
Luffy leans in close, placing a kiss on his cheek, muttering “Zoro, my Zoro.” Zoro shivers, even Luffy’s voice setting off something in the back of his head. “Inside?” Luffy asks, like it’s even a question, like he doesn’t know how much Zoro craves it. Zoro nods, letting his hands slip off the back of Luffy’s neck and flop to his sides to grip the sheets.
Luffy moves his hand to Zoro’s thigh, fingers sliding under the garter of the stockings, and drives himself forward so hard and so deep that Zoro thinks he might black out. It doesn’t hurt. Instead, the sensation of Luffy’s cock prying him open is what finally pushes him over the edge, back lifting off the bed and fingers curling so hard into the sheets that he hears them rip. Luffy comes too, flooding his insides and groaning like the mess he always is. Zoro hears a snapping noise, and he’s so lost in the sensation that it feels like it’s him that’s snapping into pieces, orgasm coursing through him until it throbs behind his eyes, and he can barely focus, breathing heavy as Luffy collapses on top of him, nothing but weight.
Luffy gives Zoro a messy, scratchy kiss, and it takes a second for Zoro to put together what the snapping noise was when he feels the stockings slipping down his legs. The garter’s broken.
“Nami’s gonna kill me,” he slurs, and Luffy just makes a satisfied noise, wiggling his hips and making Zoro’s oversensitive insides clench.
“Zoro,” Luffy says, “I wanna go again.”
“Give me five minutes,” Zoro musters. “Patience, remember?”
(Later, after Luffy’s worn out and Zoro forces him to change the sheets while he watches from the desk chair, unsure if he’ll be able to walk tomorrow, they curl up in bed together.
“If you wanted to fuck so bad, why didn’t you just ask me, asshole?” Zoro grumbles, staring out the window of their bedroom with his back to Luffy. “I thought you were…” He winces, face crumpling up in embarrassment, “...getting tired of me, or something.”
“Why would I get tired of Zoro?” asks Luffy. He wraps a huge arm over Zoro’s stomach. Zoro remembers back when they were young, and when they would lie like this, how Luffy’s face would be at the back of his neck. Now, he can easily rest his chin on top of Zoro’s head. “That would be stupid. We’re married.”
“Married people get tired of each other all the time,” Zoro says, and sighs. “And you’re usually so eager, so when you stop asking, I get worried…”
“I just thought it was cute that Zoro was the one asking me lately.” Luffy presses a kiss to the top of Zoro’s still-damp hair, then turns him around so they’re facing each other. “When I can tell you want me, it makes me really want to go at it,” he says, and breaks into a goofy grin.
“You always want to go at it,” Zoro mumbles.
“So do you, Zoro, you’re just less honest about it.” Luffy reaches up and toys with Zoro’s earrings, which have miraculously stayed in place despite how much shaking around they’ve done in the past few hours. “So let’s just be honest with each other, right?”
It’s such a stupidly simple, Luffy-like solution to all of Zoro’s angst. “...I’ll try,” he says, and Luffy smiles all warm and sweet at him, sending a churning affection into the pits of Zoro’s stomach.
It’s funny, after so much work teaching Luffy patience, he doesn’t ever want to wait to do anything with him again.)