Terrible PWP ZoSopp ficcage
Apr. 2nd, 2012 03:43 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dethoratsHappy Birthday Usopp! It's still barely your special day in some parts of the world so I consider this timely. Yosh.
Title: Eye of the Tiger (yeah, as lame as this)
Rating: R
Pairing: ZoSopp
Word Count: 3215
A/N: This is completely pointless, shameless, admittedly terrible smut. Because I needed to get it out of my system. And for reals, there is NO plot. We're talking Metalocalypse levels of PWP, and I don't normally do that for One Piece. Also, I wrote this quickly, just ran it through spell-check and haven't looked at it again so I KNOW it's awful. So you're warned. But I wanted to give Usopp something.
ETA: Now appended with impossibly even more poorly written smut from Luffy's perspective on this fic in the comments.
They shouldn't be doing this, here and now. It's so...it's far too public and wrong and so terribly impolite, even given that they're pirates and just...THERE ARE EVEN BEDROOMS FOR THEM, DAMN IT! But it's not as if that's going to work now. They've gone too far and that voice, low and rough, sounds at his ear. "More. Come on."
Usopp obeys, second finger awkwardly squirming in beside the first and they should have lube for this, a bed, some privacy, but there had been no way to resist that look, the blatant demand in those eyes. There's a grunt as he twists his hand, trying to find a better angle, a hiss of hot breath against his neck that stills his wrist but plunges his fingers deeper still into gripping heat. And then, less than ten feet away, Luffy's hand flashes past. It makes Usopp falter, frozen in embarrassment, and the huff of amused exasperation in his ear isn't helping. Not two seconds later, that rubber grip flies back, laden down with gleanings from the thoroughy ravaged buffet table Chewing sounds fill the air, along with a muddled word that the sniper suspects is supposed to be 'meat,' but it might as easily be 'yummy' or 'more' or something entirely different.
Some things never change; certainly Luffy hasn't lost his ability to make up for missed meals by eating in his sleep and his swordsman is as underwhelmed by that feat as ever. Hips press demandingly against Usopp's own, drive his spine against the polished coral column that is pretty much the only thing keeping him from being plowed beneath a pushy swordsman. He drags his attention away from the table, from the horrible possibility that Luffy's not actually asleep. Zoro's green eye rolls at him, frustration drawing the flimsiest of curtains over the brilliant gleam that had gotten him in this position in the first place and Usopp is only a little surprised by how much he misses the panted breath against his neck, the imprint of three golden teardrops growing deeper along his jaw.
"He's asleep. They're all asleep." There's just the slightest hint of need beneath the total confidence in the swordsman's voice. He's plastered to the sniper and Usopp can feel every inch of him, every last hard, solid, inch as it rubs up against him. Zoro's never been one to bother with reassurances, confident in himself, but now he's got Usopp just where he wants him and it's too much work to start over again. "Besides anyone awake's gonna be too tired or drunk to notice or care." He rolls his hips, pushes forward and then arches back into the hand the sniper's still got decidedly planted down the back of his pants.
Usopp swallows, saliva thick in his throat even though his mouth suddenly feels dry. He can't look away from the grin that's carved into Zoro's face, the one that he bets the swordsman isn't fully conscious of. It's smug and sure and a little bit dangerous, too damn sexy to resist. It has been aimed at him since just after the first round of dinner, when the dancing and the singing had hit a lull and the dessert course hadn't yet been brought out. He returned it then, encouraged it, and so maybe this is a little bit his fault but who could blame him? It's a smile that Usopp knows, has missed desperately. It's been TWO YEARS and just looking at it now, again, reminds of just how he's gotten himself caught up in the first place.
That smile, that almost-leer, had been full of promises, of heat, of what was to come. Usopp had offered it back with equal intensity, grinned at Zoro with full confidence in his plans for later that evening, and had lost himself in food and song and the feeling of a sharp green eye tracking his every move. He's glad, actually, that this chance has come so soon. Two years and he's missed everyone and he's missed Sunny and he's missed falling asleep with the sounds his crewmates breathing around him. But Usopp hadn't forgotten that Sunny still isn't terribly big, that privacy is hard to come by. A palace bedroom beats the storage hold or the floor of the crow's nest by a large margin and he has the added satisfaction of a good fight and a good meal behind him.
Telling tales had passed the time, let his anticipation stoke itself in a slow burn, and he had been surprised as he finally wound down - his appreciative audience yawning and heading off to bed - to find that it was so late. Brook was still playing, something gentle and faint, identifiable mainly by his afro and his lanky frame as he sat far across the cavernous room with a few of the musicians from the party. Sanji was passed out in a heap of noodled limbs, the ridiculously dopey expression on his face set there as if in stone. Chopper was snoring gently against him, tissues in one small hoof balled beneath the cook's nose. There had been no sign of Robin or Nami, none of Franky either, and Usopp could vaguely recall mentions of a bath, of bubble technology and air filters and things that sounded like they would bear exploration in the morning. Luffy, stuffed to the gills, was passed out at a nearby table, snoozing face down on a pile of well-gnawed bones.
Finally he'd felt it safe to really look for Zoro, a wide and expectant smile on his face as his eyes had swept the nearly empty room. He'd found the swordsman sitting cross-legged on the floor next to Jinbe, the pair of them just finishing a toast or something when he finally settled his gaze on that scarred face. Zoro caught on to his watcher immediately and Usopp could see a corner of his mouth twitch. With everyone else asleep or gone and Jinbe a stolid presence, Usopp felt safe to keep grinning, hooking his thumbs in his sash and taking a few sauntering steps towards them.
Usopp didn't get very far, only a couple of paces from where he had spent the past hour perched upon a comfortable buble regaling the audience that was even now finishing its vanishing act through various doorways in search of rest. Zoro had nodded to Jinbe as Usopp approached, putting down his cup and then standing, depleted sake and wine bottles and emptied kegs of beer forming a thicket of vanished alcohol at his feet. They had traded words, pleasant low rumbles of sound that Usopp let wash over him, and Zoro had waved a hand after the former shichibukai even as his shockingly lucid eye remained locked on the sniper. Jinbe headed off first, stopping only to gently slide the plate out from under Luffy's cheek, and Zoro didn't bother to watch him go, his gaze instead watching Usopp's as the sniper tracked the fishman's departure.
Jinbe's bulk finally disappeared through the closest door and Usopp could only wonder if Zoro had asked after a bed, had gotten any sort of directions. He didn't want to spend half the night wandering the palace in search of a mattress and privacy and maybe it would have been smart to chase after the fishman instead of staying rooted, soaking up the increasing intensity of the swordsman's attention. His body tingled from that stare, from the thoughts that had been crowding the back of his mind ever since he first caught sight of that particular smile across the room. Usopp licked his lips, tension settling at the base of his spine, and turned in time to watch the swordsman close the last bit of distance between them.
Fingers like iron feathers closed over Usopp's shoulders; the comparison in his mind making no sense yet fitting with the way each one gripped at him with more than a hint of strength and yet barely touched him at the same time. That grin was in his face now, that too-bright eye intent on him, and he had, suddenly, the sense that Zoro's control was tenuous at best, that he had stumbled across a tiger who hadn't pounced only because he'd been brave enough to stare it down. His lips parted and he breathed in sweat and steel and sake. The scent of him, the hint on the back of his tongue, ate at Usopp's self-control and he couldn't stop his hands from reaching for Zoro's scarred face.
He didn't notice at first when his shoulderblades hit the column, too busy with tangling his fingers in Zoro's hair, his tongue in the swordsman's mouth. Deep kisses, hard and bruising, and yet so sweet, sweet with absence and reunion and victory and the last cup of sake Zoro had before he came over to restake his claim. Usopp didn't know when one of his hands slid out of hair that was longer than his sense-memory told him it should be, crossed down the hard expanse of muscled back and ventured lower still to settle on the swordsman's rear. He squeezed, fingers splayed to get as much as he could, and Zoro managed somehow to be two places at once, pushing back into his grip and yet plastering his body all along the length of sniper's.
The muscles there were firm, dense, but something was not quite right. Usopp dug in his fingertips, pulled Zoro closer still, but he couldn't get the handful that he wanted, that his memory and his body was telling him he should have. There was too much fabric in the way, he decided, the coat-robe thing Zoro was wearing covering him from neck to ankles and keeping Usopp from the body he knew was beneath it. The sniper tried again, pawing at the cloth and losing track of the kiss he'd been enthusiastically returning until Zoro actually growled against his mouth and broke away. His lips were shiny and slick, and Usopp stared at them, at the way his fingertip was suddenly sliding between them into Zoro's mouth.
Usopp jerked, feeling the first swirl of tongue and scrape of teeth travel from the roots of his hair to the soles of his feet before it settled, a shock of growing tension and heat low in his belly and spreading tendrils through his groin. The grip on his wrist was implacable but he didn't even begin to think to pull away. Not then, not when Zoro opened his mouth at the prodding of another finger, Usopp's hand acting all on its own. Not half a beat later when the swordsman caught his eyes and hollowed his cheeks, sucked with that far too dangerous mouth. Not even when his wet fingers dripped with saliva, smeared dampness across bare skin as Zoro guided Usopp's hand beneath his robe, somehow slipped it beneath the tightness of his sash and the soft, worn folds of his haramaki, trapped it beneath the top his pants so that Usopp's fingers settled at his cleft.
He was moving on instincts and impulse, not thinking so that he could devote every thought, every nerve, every last cell to feeling and it was only once he'd gotten his satisfing handful of Zoro's ass, once his wetted fingertips were nestled between those muscles and just brushing over another hotter, tighter one, that Usopp finally regained some of his senses. Zoro had him pinned to the column, pinioned there with one hand still anchored on the sniper's shoulder and the other moved to his waist. A single calloused finger had managed to sneak past the guard of his overalls to pet at whatever naked skin it can reach. Hot breath gusted over the side of Usopp's neck and it was almost a shock to Usopp to realize that it was his hands at the back of Zoro's head that had pulled him in, pressed his forehead to the same unyielding column and mashed his earrings against Usopp's cheek.
Zoro bared his teeth against Usopp's flesh when the sniper had to pause, when he remembered just exactly where they were while he had his - oh god - wet fingers jammed down the back of Zoro's pants. He bucked his hips in reminder, scabbards rattling against each other and bouncing off the coral, and Usopp had to whimper and push back, completely unable to resist. Zoro bit down when Usopp thrust again, this time unprompted and unprovoked, and widened his stance. The sound that came out took Usopp by surprise, took him half a beat to recognize it as his own voice catching on Zoro's name. He couldn't...he shouldn't...but he did anyway, pushing just enough to slip a fingertip inside.
Blood-hot and clenching, tight, and the only thing that kept him grounded was the low vibration of Zoro rumbling around his shoulder, the spike of pain where the swordsman's canines dug in. Usopp flexed his wrist, burrowed his finger another joint deeper and bit down on his own lower lip to keep the noises that would wake everyone up, give them completely away, from coming out. He ended up whining anyway, a thin high sound that jerked Zoro's head up, made him smirk at whatever he saw in Usopp's face. He looked downright wolfish, that grin completely filthy as he stared into Usopp's eyes. "Another," Zoro demanded, grip on Usopp's waistband jerking the sniper forward, hips slamming together. "More. Come on!"
Usopp couldn't help but obey, squirming a second damp finger in beside the first and he figured Zoro was probably going to regret this in the morning, going this far without lube or any proper preparation, but completely sure they would both regret it if he stopped now. And it was then that Luffy's hand flew past, freezing Usopp in a far-too-compromizing-to-explain position even though his brain was finally trying to wake back up and find a reason. Zoro could feel him tense, lifted his head up and off of Usopp's shoulder so that the sniper suddenly felt bereft. "He's asleep," Zoro said. "They all are."
It wasn't quite needy, not quite desperate, but Usopp could clearly hear the impatience in the swordsman's voice, the longing hidden underneath it. Zoro was grinning at him again, too dangerous to be reassuring but too damn sexy to resist as he rocked his hips forward against Usopp's then rolled them back into the sniper's trapped hand. "Besides, anybody still awake's going to be too tired or drunk to notice."
It all flashes through his mind, lightning strikes of recent memory and sensation and it can't have been as long as it seems, can't be more than five minutes since Jinbe left, since Zoro pushed him against the column. They should stop, should find the privacy and the comfort of a bed, slow down and make this last. But even as he thinks this, even as Usopp flushes at the sound of Luffy still talking in his sleep and Brook playing somewhere distant but still in the same room, as he adds up what they've done, what they're DOING, his fingers are pressing deeper.
Somehow Zoro manages to make his grin darker and softer at the same time, his unscarred eye closing as he leans forward to demand a kiss. Usopp lets him in, lets Zoro's tongue and Zoro's lips and the clench and heat and give of Zoro's body around his fingers distract him. The sniper closes his eyes too, safety in the darkness behind his eyelids, and concentrates on what he can feel. The angle's difficult and there are too many layers of clothing and he's going to go through the damn column if Zoro doesn't stop pressing into him. But he can't bear for the swordsman to let up, either, to pull even the tiniest bit away and he fists his free hand in Zoro's coat to try to wrest some kind of control of the pace.
Zoro laughs against and into his mouth, doesn't slow down in the slightest. "One more," he demands. "Now...hard!" It's insane, this is insane, Zoro's insane, and he always knew that but he hadn't expected it would be contagious. Then again, he'd helped take the king of this very palace hostage earlier in the day so it probably really is catching. Usopp grunts, twists the fabric of Zoro's coat tighter in his grasp. He's not sure how he manages it; they're both desperate now, driving for the end, but somehow he manages to wriggle the third fingertip inside. Zoro snarls, actually SNARLS, and later it will occur to Usopp to ask about this, about just what Zoro did with himself for two years and learns that it wasn't very much at all given a sneaky ghost girl and piercing golden eyes. But for the moment he just responds and he thrusts hard with all three fingers.
There's a gasp, so quiet after all the other noises and then nothing but heat and pressure and the feel of Zoro's mouth going slack against his own. It's that, the knowledge of what the swordsman's just done, of what's happened with just his fingers buried in that still-clenching heat and clothed bodies pushing together and nothing else, that sets Usopp off and he jerks once against Zoro's shaking body and finally lets go.
It's the pain in his head that makes him move, that and the ache in his wrist and the uncomfortably sticky feeling of having just shot off in his boxers. Usopp groans and, with a lot more care than he'd taken moments ago, carefully eases his fingers and his hand free of Zoro's pants, from beneath his coat. The back of his skull hurts, probably because Zoro had been knocking him into the column there at the end, and his spine, and damnit, the swordsman's heavy. "Oi," Usopp whispers, finally opening his eyes to risk a look around the VERY PUBLIC PLACE they've just happened to have had sex in. Just because nobody seems to have woken up or had any inkling of what just happened doesn't mean Zoro's completely off the hook. "Don't you dare fall asleep on me now."
His lips brush against Zoro's cheek as he talks and he can feel the curl of the swordsman's smile against him before the first faked snore comes out. "Oh no you don't. Not after you made me do this HERE instead of on a nice soft bed." He pushes off from the column - two years of training and while Zoro's heavy, he wasn't impossible to move before, is decidedly less so now - and Zoro finally takes a step back, settles his weight squarely on his own two feet.
There's a different expression on his face, new for the night but once again not entirely unknonw to Usopp. It's still smug and sure, sexy with an added dimension of satisfied, and still ever so slightly dangerous because that's just the way Zoro is. "Fine. We'll do it there next." And since it takes Zoro twenty minutes, seven false turns, and three wrong rooms to get them there, Usopp's ready to go again and just frustrated enough to give the swordsman exactly what he wants as soon as the door is closed.
Title: Eye of the Tiger (yeah, as lame as this)
Rating: R
Pairing: ZoSopp
Word Count: 3215
A/N: This is completely pointless, shameless, admittedly terrible smut. Because I needed to get it out of my system. And for reals, there is NO plot. We're talking Metalocalypse levels of PWP, and I don't normally do that for One Piece. Also, I wrote this quickly, just ran it through spell-check and haven't looked at it again so I KNOW it's awful. So you're warned. But I wanted to give Usopp something.
ETA: Now appended with impossibly even more poorly written smut from Luffy's perspective on this fic in the comments.
They shouldn't be doing this, here and now. It's so...it's far too public and wrong and so terribly impolite, even given that they're pirates and just...THERE ARE EVEN BEDROOMS FOR THEM, DAMN IT! But it's not as if that's going to work now. They've gone too far and that voice, low and rough, sounds at his ear. "More. Come on."
Usopp obeys, second finger awkwardly squirming in beside the first and they should have lube for this, a bed, some privacy, but there had been no way to resist that look, the blatant demand in those eyes. There's a grunt as he twists his hand, trying to find a better angle, a hiss of hot breath against his neck that stills his wrist but plunges his fingers deeper still into gripping heat. And then, less than ten feet away, Luffy's hand flashes past. It makes Usopp falter, frozen in embarrassment, and the huff of amused exasperation in his ear isn't helping. Not two seconds later, that rubber grip flies back, laden down with gleanings from the thoroughy ravaged buffet table Chewing sounds fill the air, along with a muddled word that the sniper suspects is supposed to be 'meat,' but it might as easily be 'yummy' or 'more' or something entirely different.
Some things never change; certainly Luffy hasn't lost his ability to make up for missed meals by eating in his sleep and his swordsman is as underwhelmed by that feat as ever. Hips press demandingly against Usopp's own, drive his spine against the polished coral column that is pretty much the only thing keeping him from being plowed beneath a pushy swordsman. He drags his attention away from the table, from the horrible possibility that Luffy's not actually asleep. Zoro's green eye rolls at him, frustration drawing the flimsiest of curtains over the brilliant gleam that had gotten him in this position in the first place and Usopp is only a little surprised by how much he misses the panted breath against his neck, the imprint of three golden teardrops growing deeper along his jaw.
"He's asleep. They're all asleep." There's just the slightest hint of need beneath the total confidence in the swordsman's voice. He's plastered to the sniper and Usopp can feel every inch of him, every last hard, solid, inch as it rubs up against him. Zoro's never been one to bother with reassurances, confident in himself, but now he's got Usopp just where he wants him and it's too much work to start over again. "Besides anyone awake's gonna be too tired or drunk to notice or care." He rolls his hips, pushes forward and then arches back into the hand the sniper's still got decidedly planted down the back of his pants.
Usopp swallows, saliva thick in his throat even though his mouth suddenly feels dry. He can't look away from the grin that's carved into Zoro's face, the one that he bets the swordsman isn't fully conscious of. It's smug and sure and a little bit dangerous, too damn sexy to resist. It has been aimed at him since just after the first round of dinner, when the dancing and the singing had hit a lull and the dessert course hadn't yet been brought out. He returned it then, encouraged it, and so maybe this is a little bit his fault but who could blame him? It's a smile that Usopp knows, has missed desperately. It's been TWO YEARS and just looking at it now, again, reminds of just how he's gotten himself caught up in the first place.
That smile, that almost-leer, had been full of promises, of heat, of what was to come. Usopp had offered it back with equal intensity, grinned at Zoro with full confidence in his plans for later that evening, and had lost himself in food and song and the feeling of a sharp green eye tracking his every move. He's glad, actually, that this chance has come so soon. Two years and he's missed everyone and he's missed Sunny and he's missed falling asleep with the sounds his crewmates breathing around him. But Usopp hadn't forgotten that Sunny still isn't terribly big, that privacy is hard to come by. A palace bedroom beats the storage hold or the floor of the crow's nest by a large margin and he has the added satisfaction of a good fight and a good meal behind him.
Telling tales had passed the time, let his anticipation stoke itself in a slow burn, and he had been surprised as he finally wound down - his appreciative audience yawning and heading off to bed - to find that it was so late. Brook was still playing, something gentle and faint, identifiable mainly by his afro and his lanky frame as he sat far across the cavernous room with a few of the musicians from the party. Sanji was passed out in a heap of noodled limbs, the ridiculously dopey expression on his face set there as if in stone. Chopper was snoring gently against him, tissues in one small hoof balled beneath the cook's nose. There had been no sign of Robin or Nami, none of Franky either, and Usopp could vaguely recall mentions of a bath, of bubble technology and air filters and things that sounded like they would bear exploration in the morning. Luffy, stuffed to the gills, was passed out at a nearby table, snoozing face down on a pile of well-gnawed bones.
Finally he'd felt it safe to really look for Zoro, a wide and expectant smile on his face as his eyes had swept the nearly empty room. He'd found the swordsman sitting cross-legged on the floor next to Jinbe, the pair of them just finishing a toast or something when he finally settled his gaze on that scarred face. Zoro caught on to his watcher immediately and Usopp could see a corner of his mouth twitch. With everyone else asleep or gone and Jinbe a stolid presence, Usopp felt safe to keep grinning, hooking his thumbs in his sash and taking a few sauntering steps towards them.
Usopp didn't get very far, only a couple of paces from where he had spent the past hour perched upon a comfortable buble regaling the audience that was even now finishing its vanishing act through various doorways in search of rest. Zoro had nodded to Jinbe as Usopp approached, putting down his cup and then standing, depleted sake and wine bottles and emptied kegs of beer forming a thicket of vanished alcohol at his feet. They had traded words, pleasant low rumbles of sound that Usopp let wash over him, and Zoro had waved a hand after the former shichibukai even as his shockingly lucid eye remained locked on the sniper. Jinbe headed off first, stopping only to gently slide the plate out from under Luffy's cheek, and Zoro didn't bother to watch him go, his gaze instead watching Usopp's as the sniper tracked the fishman's departure.
Jinbe's bulk finally disappeared through the closest door and Usopp could only wonder if Zoro had asked after a bed, had gotten any sort of directions. He didn't want to spend half the night wandering the palace in search of a mattress and privacy and maybe it would have been smart to chase after the fishman instead of staying rooted, soaking up the increasing intensity of the swordsman's attention. His body tingled from that stare, from the thoughts that had been crowding the back of his mind ever since he first caught sight of that particular smile across the room. Usopp licked his lips, tension settling at the base of his spine, and turned in time to watch the swordsman close the last bit of distance between them.
Fingers like iron feathers closed over Usopp's shoulders; the comparison in his mind making no sense yet fitting with the way each one gripped at him with more than a hint of strength and yet barely touched him at the same time. That grin was in his face now, that too-bright eye intent on him, and he had, suddenly, the sense that Zoro's control was tenuous at best, that he had stumbled across a tiger who hadn't pounced only because he'd been brave enough to stare it down. His lips parted and he breathed in sweat and steel and sake. The scent of him, the hint on the back of his tongue, ate at Usopp's self-control and he couldn't stop his hands from reaching for Zoro's scarred face.
He didn't notice at first when his shoulderblades hit the column, too busy with tangling his fingers in Zoro's hair, his tongue in the swordsman's mouth. Deep kisses, hard and bruising, and yet so sweet, sweet with absence and reunion and victory and the last cup of sake Zoro had before he came over to restake his claim. Usopp didn't know when one of his hands slid out of hair that was longer than his sense-memory told him it should be, crossed down the hard expanse of muscled back and ventured lower still to settle on the swordsman's rear. He squeezed, fingers splayed to get as much as he could, and Zoro managed somehow to be two places at once, pushing back into his grip and yet plastering his body all along the length of sniper's.
The muscles there were firm, dense, but something was not quite right. Usopp dug in his fingertips, pulled Zoro closer still, but he couldn't get the handful that he wanted, that his memory and his body was telling him he should have. There was too much fabric in the way, he decided, the coat-robe thing Zoro was wearing covering him from neck to ankles and keeping Usopp from the body he knew was beneath it. The sniper tried again, pawing at the cloth and losing track of the kiss he'd been enthusiastically returning until Zoro actually growled against his mouth and broke away. His lips were shiny and slick, and Usopp stared at them, at the way his fingertip was suddenly sliding between them into Zoro's mouth.
Usopp jerked, feeling the first swirl of tongue and scrape of teeth travel from the roots of his hair to the soles of his feet before it settled, a shock of growing tension and heat low in his belly and spreading tendrils through his groin. The grip on his wrist was implacable but he didn't even begin to think to pull away. Not then, not when Zoro opened his mouth at the prodding of another finger, Usopp's hand acting all on its own. Not half a beat later when the swordsman caught his eyes and hollowed his cheeks, sucked with that far too dangerous mouth. Not even when his wet fingers dripped with saliva, smeared dampness across bare skin as Zoro guided Usopp's hand beneath his robe, somehow slipped it beneath the tightness of his sash and the soft, worn folds of his haramaki, trapped it beneath the top his pants so that Usopp's fingers settled at his cleft.
He was moving on instincts and impulse, not thinking so that he could devote every thought, every nerve, every last cell to feeling and it was only once he'd gotten his satisfing handful of Zoro's ass, once his wetted fingertips were nestled between those muscles and just brushing over another hotter, tighter one, that Usopp finally regained some of his senses. Zoro had him pinned to the column, pinioned there with one hand still anchored on the sniper's shoulder and the other moved to his waist. A single calloused finger had managed to sneak past the guard of his overalls to pet at whatever naked skin it can reach. Hot breath gusted over the side of Usopp's neck and it was almost a shock to Usopp to realize that it was his hands at the back of Zoro's head that had pulled him in, pressed his forehead to the same unyielding column and mashed his earrings against Usopp's cheek.
Zoro bared his teeth against Usopp's flesh when the sniper had to pause, when he remembered just exactly where they were while he had his - oh god - wet fingers jammed down the back of Zoro's pants. He bucked his hips in reminder, scabbards rattling against each other and bouncing off the coral, and Usopp had to whimper and push back, completely unable to resist. Zoro bit down when Usopp thrust again, this time unprompted and unprovoked, and widened his stance. The sound that came out took Usopp by surprise, took him half a beat to recognize it as his own voice catching on Zoro's name. He couldn't...he shouldn't...but he did anyway, pushing just enough to slip a fingertip inside.
Blood-hot and clenching, tight, and the only thing that kept him grounded was the low vibration of Zoro rumbling around his shoulder, the spike of pain where the swordsman's canines dug in. Usopp flexed his wrist, burrowed his finger another joint deeper and bit down on his own lower lip to keep the noises that would wake everyone up, give them completely away, from coming out. He ended up whining anyway, a thin high sound that jerked Zoro's head up, made him smirk at whatever he saw in Usopp's face. He looked downright wolfish, that grin completely filthy as he stared into Usopp's eyes. "Another," Zoro demanded, grip on Usopp's waistband jerking the sniper forward, hips slamming together. "More. Come on!"
Usopp couldn't help but obey, squirming a second damp finger in beside the first and he figured Zoro was probably going to regret this in the morning, going this far without lube or any proper preparation, but completely sure they would both regret it if he stopped now. And it was then that Luffy's hand flew past, freezing Usopp in a far-too-compromizing-to-explain position even though his brain was finally trying to wake back up and find a reason. Zoro could feel him tense, lifted his head up and off of Usopp's shoulder so that the sniper suddenly felt bereft. "He's asleep," Zoro said. "They all are."
It wasn't quite needy, not quite desperate, but Usopp could clearly hear the impatience in the swordsman's voice, the longing hidden underneath it. Zoro was grinning at him again, too dangerous to be reassuring but too damn sexy to resist as he rocked his hips forward against Usopp's then rolled them back into the sniper's trapped hand. "Besides, anybody still awake's going to be too tired or drunk to notice."
It all flashes through his mind, lightning strikes of recent memory and sensation and it can't have been as long as it seems, can't be more than five minutes since Jinbe left, since Zoro pushed him against the column. They should stop, should find the privacy and the comfort of a bed, slow down and make this last. But even as he thinks this, even as Usopp flushes at the sound of Luffy still talking in his sleep and Brook playing somewhere distant but still in the same room, as he adds up what they've done, what they're DOING, his fingers are pressing deeper.
Somehow Zoro manages to make his grin darker and softer at the same time, his unscarred eye closing as he leans forward to demand a kiss. Usopp lets him in, lets Zoro's tongue and Zoro's lips and the clench and heat and give of Zoro's body around his fingers distract him. The sniper closes his eyes too, safety in the darkness behind his eyelids, and concentrates on what he can feel. The angle's difficult and there are too many layers of clothing and he's going to go through the damn column if Zoro doesn't stop pressing into him. But he can't bear for the swordsman to let up, either, to pull even the tiniest bit away and he fists his free hand in Zoro's coat to try to wrest some kind of control of the pace.
Zoro laughs against and into his mouth, doesn't slow down in the slightest. "One more," he demands. "Now...hard!" It's insane, this is insane, Zoro's insane, and he always knew that but he hadn't expected it would be contagious. Then again, he'd helped take the king of this very palace hostage earlier in the day so it probably really is catching. Usopp grunts, twists the fabric of Zoro's coat tighter in his grasp. He's not sure how he manages it; they're both desperate now, driving for the end, but somehow he manages to wriggle the third fingertip inside. Zoro snarls, actually SNARLS, and later it will occur to Usopp to ask about this, about just what Zoro did with himself for two years and learns that it wasn't very much at all given a sneaky ghost girl and piercing golden eyes. But for the moment he just responds and he thrusts hard with all three fingers.
There's a gasp, so quiet after all the other noises and then nothing but heat and pressure and the feel of Zoro's mouth going slack against his own. It's that, the knowledge of what the swordsman's just done, of what's happened with just his fingers buried in that still-clenching heat and clothed bodies pushing together and nothing else, that sets Usopp off and he jerks once against Zoro's shaking body and finally lets go.
It's the pain in his head that makes him move, that and the ache in his wrist and the uncomfortably sticky feeling of having just shot off in his boxers. Usopp groans and, with a lot more care than he'd taken moments ago, carefully eases his fingers and his hand free of Zoro's pants, from beneath his coat. The back of his skull hurts, probably because Zoro had been knocking him into the column there at the end, and his spine, and damnit, the swordsman's heavy. "Oi," Usopp whispers, finally opening his eyes to risk a look around the VERY PUBLIC PLACE they've just happened to have had sex in. Just because nobody seems to have woken up or had any inkling of what just happened doesn't mean Zoro's completely off the hook. "Don't you dare fall asleep on me now."
His lips brush against Zoro's cheek as he talks and he can feel the curl of the swordsman's smile against him before the first faked snore comes out. "Oh no you don't. Not after you made me do this HERE instead of on a nice soft bed." He pushes off from the column - two years of training and while Zoro's heavy, he wasn't impossible to move before, is decidedly less so now - and Zoro finally takes a step back, settles his weight squarely on his own two feet.
There's a different expression on his face, new for the night but once again not entirely unknonw to Usopp. It's still smug and sure, sexy with an added dimension of satisfied, and still ever so slightly dangerous because that's just the way Zoro is. "Fine. We'll do it there next." And since it takes Zoro twenty minutes, seven false turns, and three wrong rooms to get them there, Usopp's ready to go again and just frustrated enough to give the swordsman exactly what he wants as soon as the door is closed.
