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When the soap dissolves into nothing in his hands and his skin feels tight, Zoro stems the flow of water and dries his dripping body. Wincing, he holds up the robe left for him that’s definitely a few sizes too small- but his own clothes would just make him filthy again. Tossing his arms into it, Zoro sighs as he tries and fails to pull it closed over his chest.

The creaking of the door pulls you from the absentminded trance that you’d slipped in waiting for Zoro to finish. There’s relief being in his presences again, your body immediately relaxing with his return-

Before completely seizing up, eyes widening and heat blooming across your face. Zoro rips his eye away from yours, a little blush dusting over his face too lightly to see in the dark. “It’s a little small,” he mumbles, hand rubbing bashfully at the back of his neck- a motion which only widens the gap of his robe that dips dangerously beneath his navel.

‘A little small,’ is a generous description. The fabric pulls desperately taut with a hopeless attempt to secure his modesty. All thoughts are drummed out by the beating of your own heart when your eyes cast shamelessly over his figure. The roll of muscles down the plane of his body, the robe coming together just below his core- teasing along the arrow’s edge of his hips. Pointing downwards where he’s knotted the tie to keep what hangs there concealed. But, when the breeze blows by its obvious shape is revealed in outline, the hems of his robe lifting high on his powerful thighs.

Zoro is grateful for the night as the fire in his face flares when he feels your eyes roam his body. He knows you don’t mean to, but his open senses can hear the uptick to your pulse and the disrupted draw of your breathe. While he feels a little embarrassed under the weight of your attention, he feels something else too. Relief, maybe, to know the sight of him can stir such a response. Hope, probably, that you like that it does. Arousal- definitely, to be the center of your heated focus- the ghost of your kiss somehow still lingering on his lips.

Quickly, Zoro puts his mind in a vice grip before his feelings can become any more physically obvious than they already are.

Coming to your senses, you snap your gaze away, “oh, uh, it’s fine,” you force out, “we’ll go in from the back.” Zoro gathers the pile of both your clothes, following a few steps behind you on the path, eye traitorously dropping to the natural sway of your hips. Trying very hard not to think about how it would feel to ‘go in from the back.’

Gritting his teeth, he violently shakes his head as if the thoughts could fly loose as easily as the stray droplets still clung to his hair. Certainly, Zoro has had these thoughts before, but never so brazenly in front of you. He always had an irrational fear that you’d somehow find a way to read his mind. And it often made him feel a shade guilty- which was not a feeling he wanted tainting the way he felt about you.

But, Zoro knows himself well- at least physically- and knows the liquid heat of adrenaline that still simmers in his blood will take a while to cool. It seems, however, his body is adamant about stirring it into something more lecherously actionable. ‘Nothing like the night before the hunt, or the night after one,’ resounds through his head and he hates the way it rings true- feeling a little pang of disgust with himself to admit having anything in common with a man he still wants to behead.

How many times had he sated himself in the quiet hours after a fight, still feeling to roil of his adrenaline? More than he’d admit. How many times had he sated himself in the wilds with death clinging to the air and blood not always his dripping off his body? Not as many, but still more than he’d ever admit to anyone- and least of all you.

Yet, here you are so pretty and perfect- his eye narrowing on the flutter of your pulse at your neck like some predaceous beast.

Zoro curls his fist, pressing until he feels the bite of his shortened nails- bitten and ground away- in his palms. Taking a deep breath and holding it in his lungs before a long, steadying, exhale as he steels himself against his baser instincts. He needs to be better. For you, to deserve you- to be worthy of you- he needs to be better. Because when another man had thought of you the way he is right now, he could barely stand to let him live. If he can’t meet his own judgment then how can he ever hope to earn that which he yearns for.

With another breath, Zoro glances down at the gentle sway of his swords still tucked at your hip. When his eye rises to find Kitetsu peeking over your shoulder he swears he feels the damn thing summon enough energy to grin at him- a glint of moonlight sparking off its tsuba. Zoro frowns at it when he feels a little slash of arrogance that’s not his own slice through his chest as he follows you into the inn.

After depositing your filthy clothes and your wet towels to the laundry, you ascend the winding staircase of the inn all the way to the topmost floor. The sounds of the reverie down below still flit up, though it grows distant with every step. Giving way to other sounds behind closed doors that make you blush. You’re glad then, that your room is so high up- and all the way at the end of the hall, as far as possible from any and all noise.

Zoro stays at your back, silently checking for the presence of anything- or anyone- inside before you open the door. “Oh,” you say as you step inside, “he wasn’t kidding.” The room is small. Very, very small- a narrow path only as wide as the door from there to a drafty window a few steps away at the other side. There’s light from an oil lamp flickering atop a tiny table beside a bed that would struggle to accommodate even half of Zoro’s size.

You freeze, air stealing from your lungs as you realize-

One bed. One singular, small bed.

The door clicks shut behind Zoro and as you turn to face him- forcing your eyes to stay only on his face- the room presses in even tighter. An awkward silence extends between you as your eyes meet.

“You take the bed,” Zoro cuts through it first.

“It’s okay,” you shake your head pointing down, “I can fit here more easily than you can.”

His expression tightens, “you’re not sleeping on the floor.” His tone leaves even less room for argument than the room does for anything else.

Gently, you place Kitetsu down, leaned against the small table at the bedside before bringing Wado and Enma to join him. Kicking off your grass woven sandals, you shove them under the bed before sitting cross legged atop it- giving Zoro space to step up to the window where he surveys the ground below and the tops of the trees peeking over the village walls.

The little lantern casts a halo of orange light, but it’s not enough to push back the shadows that linger in the corners. Even the moon seems to be slipping away behind the clouds as you watch the silver light thin to nothing. Yet, even still, you can see Zoro’s tense posture as he leans with hands framing the window- looking, but no longer seeing.

When you feel him start to slip away, you rise from the bed and step up behind him. Slowly, you reach out, giving him plenty of time to stop you. When he doesn’t, you slide your arms around his body and press yourself against his back, hugging him close and anchoring him with you in the here and now.

Your cool palms press against his warm sides, his body too broad to reach all the way around. Yet, you meet skin to skin, over his open robe. Cheek pressing to his back, you close your eyes and let the thrum of his heart drum into your own body. One-two-three beats pass and then three more and your breaths begin to sync, binding you together.

“We can share it,” with the whisper of the night, your voice meets his ears and his eye flutters closed, fingers lightly clawing into the wood.

Low and thick, Zoro’s voice responds, “you should be careful what you offer a man.” He feels a heavier thump through your chest against his spine. “And you should be careful not to forget I am one.”

Zoro feels the discordant shudder of your soft form against his back, but you tighten your arms around him- never shrinking away, no matter what he throws at you. “I know what you are and I know what I’m offering.” The delicate feather of your sweet voice caresses his body and his head tips forward, fingers digging deeper to hold himself steady.

The silence stretches and his breath deepens, rising and falling you with it. A seed of doubt finds ground and begins to sprout. The air in the room thickens and the darkness creeps in and you think, perhaps, he’ll refuse- and you think, perhaps, you won’t recover from it.

But, no rejection comes. Instead, Zoro straightens, his hands falling from the wall, little scars left permanent in the wood. “Okay,” his quiet voice vibrates through you as he slowly turns in your arms.

Still holding onto him as he faces you, the blush of your cheeks deepens as you find his body so openly revealed before you. Pulling back a little and slowly looking up, you see Zoro staring down with an expression you’re not sure how to read.

His big hands settle over your waist and he steps between your legs, forcing you back until the bed meets the backside of your knees. “Lay down,” he instructs with a voice that rumbles between you.

Unable to take your eyes from his, you lower yourself down and Zoro’s desperate for breath as you submit without question- looking up at him from a position that leaves you too close to the ache between his thighs.

He watches as you move back, keeping your legs pressed together as the robe slips over your knees. Laid out before him, your back meets the bed, face flushed in the low lamplight- hands pressing together atop your chest. As Zoro tracks the movement, he sees the gentle swell of your breasts and small peaks there that the fabric can’t entirely swallow.

When Zoro bends low over the bed you think perhaps your heart will simply give out, head light with the rush of your blood as it pounds. His eye roams all the way down, dragging the heat with it. Reaching out his hand, your whole body braces for his touch-

But is only met with the whisper of cotton as he pulls the threadbare blanket up and drapes it over temptation of your figure. The act douses the flame that licks up your core, smothering it back into a lower smoldering heat that blooms instead across your face as you break eye contact- turning towards the wall with embarrassment.

Visually tracing the grain, your hands clutch at the blanket as you try to steer yourself back towards decency. There’s the rustle of movement where Zoro shifts uncertainly. Not wanting to make this more difficult for him than you already have, you turn on your side, pressing as close to the wall as possible to give him enough room to settle in.

Zoro breathes deeply and before he takes the invitation, he snuffs out the light.

The bed dips beneath his weight and you grip the side of the mattress to keep from rolling atop him. But, it’s impossible not to touch regardless of how flush you press your body to the wall. Zoro’s spine braces against yours as he turns on his side, unable to fit on his back. He keeps himself as close to the edge as he can manage, one hand braced down on the floor to keep from rolling out.

But, it’s not enough space to spare him the sweet agony of your body lying up against his. The curve of your form against his spine, the plush of your thighs soft on his backside. Closing his eye, he takes measured breathes, but every expansion of his lungs presses him closer- moving you back and forth with the rhythm.

It’s impossible to mistake the tension coiling in the hard plane of his rigid body. The darkness deepens and there’s a distant roll of thunder as you both lay there awake and far from sleep. Willing your body to unwind, you let yourself settle- and feel a tremble as he sucks the air between his teeth. You try not to let it seize you, hoping that once he feels you relaxed, he’ll give himself permission to do the same.

When the rain begins to knock lightly at the window, he still hasn’t eased. Thinking perhaps he’s worried that his presence is making you uncomfortable, you roll over to face his back- so broad it casts you completely in shadow- and snuggle into him.

Zoro’s eye flies open, momentarily revealing the room in complete detail as his senses spike. With a deep, contended sigh you nuzzle into him, breathing the woodsy smell of the soap lingering on his skin- fingers tucking into the divot at his lower back. Despite the way Zoro feels- and hears- your pulse race you curl into him as if you’ve done it a thousand times before. And his heart wants to rip from his body when he imagines that you could. When he realizes he’s feeling something he’s only ever dreamed about. When he recognizes that you’re trying to soothe him despite your own flickering nerves.

He bites his tongue to keep the groan at bay, a tiny taste of his blood blooming. But, fuck, there is only so much a man can take and Zoro is fast approaching his limit. The problem is he has no idea what to do when he hits it. Perhaps he’ll simply immolate and be spared the torture of figuring it out and forcing himself to fight against it.

Fighting the Things in the Fog was easier than this. Hell, fighting anything would be easier than this.

Yet, even still- there is nothing in this world or beyond it that could ever move him from where he is now. As your hands trail up his back he knows he’d take a thousand spears to the gut before he ever pulled away from their touch.

“Zoro,” like a dream you call to him. “Is this okay?”

He swallows, the bead of his blood slipping down his throat, “yeah,” he responds with a voice so thick not even Kitetsu could cut it, “this is okay.”

Feeling movement, you rise a little to peek over his shoulder and find his hand bracing against the floor to keep himself from tipping out. Frowning, your hand drapes over him, following the slope of his arm, “Zoro,” you reach as far as you can, “would it be easier…” your voice fades a little, and he feels the ghost of it on his neck, “if you rolled this way?”

“I’m fine here,” he protests, but your gentle little hands are already guiding him to turn and his body is already slacking to heed.

“You can’t sleep like that,” softly you urge him and he can’t bring himself to resist, taking his hand from the floor and slowly rolling over.

As he comes, you turn your body towards the wall again, giving him as much space as you can. For the first time since you’ve met him, Zoro isn’t sure what to do with his hands, his broad arms wider than the space between you. With silent permission, you rise up a little and he takes the invitation to slide it beneath you- your head dropping into the crook of his arm with a sigh that pebbles his skin. His other arm he keeps straight along the side of his body, fine to keep it there until your hand reaches up for his- and his fingers slot over yours before he can even think better of it.

Pulling his arm around, you wrap yourself up in him, his weight draped secure and comfortable. Snugly, you hold onto him like he might roll away- or worse, get up- as if your strength alone could truly stop either.

As reality dawns on you that you’ve found yourself where you’ve always longed to be, your heart flips in your chest. Eyes fluttering closed, you let yourself indulge in the dream made manifest. The warmth of him enveloping you, body nestled in his strong arms. It’s so overwhelming the swell of your heart threatens to tip from your eyes. So perfect, so peaceful, so safe. In this moment you could almost believe nothing else exists.

At nearly the same time, Zoro realizes that he’s holding you. More intimately than he ever has or has ever allowed himself to do. Here, in bed with you, your soft feminine figure pressed against him. Instinctively, before he can stop himself, he opens his hands and folds you closer- properly, truly- holding you.

The way a man holds a woman.

A little gasp escapes you and Zoro tips his lips down close to your ear- your damp hair cool against his cheek. “Is this okay?” his breath crests the shell of your ear when he brings your own question back to you.

Before you can contain it, a small whimper falls forward and Zoro hears the tremble of your lips when you give back his own answer, “yeah, this is okay.”

Zoro’s bare chest presses hot against your back, seeping through the thin layers between you- the warmth spreading, a flutter to your low body as it settles there. With no thought, you press back into him, chasing the heat.

A deep groan rumbles through him and vibrates through your core as his head drops lower, breath hot against your neck- lips so close to touching that your pulse hammers harder to meet it. Your whole body trembles in his hold now, the plush of your breasts pushing into his arm as you begin to pant with need- for him.

Zoro hits it- that limit.

But, his body knows exactly what it wants to do.

As his lips touch your skin, his mind blurs and all the lines he’s drawn- nakama and crew, friend and protector, sword and sheath- melt down like wax under the flame of desire until nothing but the wick of man and woman remain.

Zoro’s lips graze against your skin, until he finds the place that coaxes forth a honeyed sound- tongue darting out to drip it from you again. The point of his tongue rolls slow, teasing and testing until he feels you twitching and dancing in his grasp. When you grace him with the song of your pleasure, the flat of his tongue drags and he moans with you at his first taste of your body- licking until he’s seduced you to encore.

“Zoro,” your breathy voice finds him high and low- the sound of his name coming again when you feel a wanton twitch to your thighs.

His lips press firmly to the spot, staying there as the hand draped over your body moves- first to your face where he drags his fingers down your lips before trailing the hollow slope of your throat. He feels the pebbling of your skin at his feathered touches, floating all the way down to your chest, fingers slipping just beneath the edge of your robe.

“Is this okay?” he asks you again, the shape of his question tracing against your skin.

Trembling fingers trail down his arm and slot over the back of his hand- you nod, “yes,” voice panting, “this is okay.” His hand drags yours with it as it slips into your robe and finds your breast, pressing your tight nipple into the center of his palm. You feel the movement of Zoro’s large hand as it begins working at you- slowly at first- groping and kneading the flesh.

With every motion he grinds against your nipple- and when his mouth goes back to your neck again, your hand flies up to wrap around his arm just to anchor yourself. Feeling the pleasure being driven into two sensitive, neglected, spots of your body- its enough to nearly bring you to tears. When he starts pinching your nipple and rolling it between his fingers- perhaps it does. You’re so rapidly losing yourself in it that you can barely even tell.

When Zoro moves to your other breast, he sucks hard at your neck, tongue swirling over you pulse- and you begin to buck your hips back into him. He groans deeply, sound vibrating into the hollow of your throat as your low body searches for the friction of his cock. It’s difficult to reach, though still you try and with every roll of your hips, the divine plush of your thighs humps against him.

With great effort, it’s only the years of disciplined self control that allows him to pull back from your reach, heavy leg draping over to pin you still. A sweet whine that twitches his dick is the only sound of protest you can manage as you fight his strength and lose- unable to push back against him.

The position keeps you at bay, but it completely opens Zoro’s robe, the abused swath of it completely unable to conceal him anymore. His cock is heavy against the mattress and even just the bounce beneath your movements is enough to coax more slick from his swollen tip.

Zoro’s hand comes from your breast to forcibly yank the knot of your robe, unsure if he’s untied or torn it when it loosens. With another shift, he maneuvers your leg to drape back over his hip- his leg sliding between yours to hold you there.

Sweetly, you whimper for him as he drags his hand down your opened body and as much as you can, you arch back. Your head tilts further and he takes the invitation, lips pressing kisses to your throat as his hand slides down between your legs.

When he touches you, you release a sound he’s certain can be heard from the hall- his own moan following after when he finds you completely wet for him. So soaked, the slick coats his hand before he even spreads you open, petting over the top of your slit just to feel it- groaning when you clench so hard he feels it from the edge of your lips.

There are definitely tears in your eyes now when his fingers spread you, a sticky sound between them- forcing you to cry out with another hard squeeze of your empty cunt. “Shh,” Zoro shushes, the point of his tongue dragging over the shell of your ear- nipping at it lightly when his fingers find your clit. Stars bloom across your vision in the dark and for a deliciously long, perfectly agonizing moment- you forget the necessity of air. “Breathe, baby,” Zoro’s whisper brings the rush into your lungs and you gasp, fingers digging into his arm wrapped around you from beneath.

Two fingers press against your most sensitive place- not moving, just holding the pressure with the promise of pleasure and it’s enough to have you near sobbing. Zoro nuzzles into your soft hair, lips pressing to the tender place it meets your neck- cock thumping against the bed. Zoro breathes in the scent so distinctly you beneath the woodsy soap- a scent that’s always calmed and called him. Now, mixed with a new scent unmistakably yours that hangs so heavy in the air he can nearly taste it on his tongue. A scent just for him. A taste for his mouth alone.

You whimper for him again, desperate for the friction of his fingers. Zoro likes the sound- wants to hear it again- wants to hear it louder- wants to hear it pleading for pleasure from his hands. But, he bites back those urges, and gives you what you need- and what he can’t resist anymore.

Zoro rubs his fingers over your clit- small tight circles with minuscule undulations of his hand. So slowly, he increases the pace and plays with the pressure, learning the instrument of your body. His eye glints in the dark as he sharpens his sight, focus locked on ever little twitch of your mouth, every change to your expression, every move of your lips and every spasm of your body in his hands. Every single one he commits to his memory, carving it into his soul with the song of your pleasure.

When he slips the tender bud between his knuckles and rolls it between them your mouth drops open with a soundless moan. “Like that?” he murmurs in your ear and all you can do is nod, head heavy as your eyes roll back beneath your lashes. A little sheen of drool pools over your lips, your tongue darting out to chase it and Zoro grunts when he holds himself back from tasting it.

Your breaths quicken and sounds stutter out of you trying and failing to form words as the coil tightens in your body. Steady, Zoro steers you to it- pace and pressure never faltering as the sensation builds up-up-up-

Then, snaps.

His name is a cry on your lips as you cum and he doesn’t silence it despite how loud it careens through the tiny room and through his body- straight down into his cock and flooding out into the hall. He holds you close, fingers keeping course as you ride the wave, thrashing against the shore of his body.

As your cries lessens to whimpers and the pleasure dances on the edge of satiated and stark, his hand slides lower, pressing into the tight squeeze, feeling the desperate suck on his finger. Every nerve in your body is beautifully alight as he pushes in to the first knuckle, rolling his finger and exploring the warmth within.

Zoro buries his face to the crook of your neck, unable to to keep from imagining this grip on his cock- his hips bucking a little against the bed as he thrusts himself in and out of you. He feels your leg tremble atop his as you desperately try to break the hold he has on you to better fuck him back. But, he gives you no ground- knowing what will happen if he does.

Instead, he offers you a second finger and your cunt greedily takes it, clamping so tight it dares him to pull back out again. He pushes into you slow, letting you feel every bit of him drag- whining when he begins to surpass the deepest place you’ve been able to reach on your own. His long fingers touch so much further than you ever could.

When he curls and presses into something you could only ever graze, the reaction of your body is violent and immediate. “There?” he does it again, loving the feel of you losing yourself on his hand. Faster and harder he presses and pressure swells behind your clit. As if sensing the ache, Zoro angles his hand back to grind his palm into it, stimulating you from the inside out- timing his motion to rock rhythmically together.

The pleasure is like nothing you’ve ever felt before and it’s the only thing that keeps you tethered to the world- everything but the feeling he fucks into you falling away. There’s sound in your ears, distant and slurred and you think perhaps it’s your own voice and there’s a rumble against you back as Zoro responds to it somewhere far from you. The pressure increases and the pleasure with it, something new swelling inside, threatening to burst- building-building-building-

Zoro’s teeth sink into your skin, forcibly yanking you back into your body when his words can’t reach you- and the levee breaks.

You gush into his waiting hand, long and hot and wet- eyes snapping down your own body as you cry out with shock at the sensation. It spurts out of you with the clamp of your cunt around his fingers, so tight you can’t imagine you’ll ever open again. Your head falls back with his teeth still claiming your throat, tears spilling from your eyes as something mortifyingly perfect keeps pouring out of you. Even as the flow stems, Zoro’s hand vibrates with preternatural speed, coaxing every squirt of it he can.

Saliva strings from his mouth when he pulls off your neck, a growl of praise tearing primal through his teeth, “good girl.” Chest rumbling as he presses gentler kisses over his claim, hand slowing- sure it’s had everything.

“Zoro,” his name is the only word you know- the only word you need to know and the only word he wants to hear. Drenched and heavy, your low body can barely move, but there’s still something you want.

Twisting a little in his hold, your hand reaches for it- dropping with a spasm as he slowly starts pulling out of you. Pussy squeezing with reluctance, you cry out with every lost length of his fingers. “Shh, I got you.” A shudder rolls through you, body completely slacking when he’s gone.

Zoro brings his soaking hand to his face, eye rolling back with the scent, drool pooling in his mouth as he opens it for a taste. As it blooms across his tongue, his groan vibrates down to your bones. He loses himself for a moment in the wet suck, slurping your cum from his hand. The sound so filthy that heat manages to creep up your face- still as lost in bliss as it is. His baser instincts demand he crawl down your body and dine from the source, but he pulls his fingers from his mouth with a pop before they can take over.

He wraps you in his arms again, folding you so close you feel the beat of his heart against your back and it doesn’t take long for yours to make harmony. The rhythm settles over you and the pleasure makes you heavy. Shaking your head, you try to fight the way it drags you down, not yet wanting to leave this moment- not yet wanting this night to be over.

Zoro presses his lips to your temple, “you’re alright, baby,” he mutters, “I’m here.” His kiss there is soft and breaks apart like feathers in your chest. “Sleep, sweetheart.”

Though you want to fight it, you submit to him again and drop deep into dream.

It doesn’t take you long to fall asleep, your breathes evening out. Though, Zoro waits a few minutes before he’s sure his movements won’t wake you. Gently, he untangles himself from you and sits up at the edge of the bed, staring down at your peaceful face, still slightly flushed- his mark just beginning to bloom at the base of your neck. His neglected cock twitches at the sight of his claim, but he bites his tongue to help ignore the need.

Tearing a long strip from the bottom of his robe that’s completely given up the battle of his modesty, he gently wipes it over the mess he coaxed from your body. Careful, tender movements as not to jostle you from your slumber, he cleans you as attentively as he tends his own blades- letting the task take his focus away from the the lust still living low between his legs.

When he’s finished he tosses the rag aside and drops his feet heavy to the floor. Elbows on his knees his head falls into his hands, dragging across his face.

'Nothing like the night after the hunt.'

“Fuck,” he curses into the dark, no sound left but the falling rain.