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dethoratsTitle: One Morning
Rating: PG-13/Rish
Pairing: LuZo
Word Count: 2429
When a warm knee is placed into his hammock, making the ropes creak a little as it sways, Roronoa Zoro doesn’t stir from his slumber. He’s not really asleep but not really awake yet either; too comfortable to be bothered with the troublesome effort of cracking open his eyelids, let alone stirring a finger towards any thought of getting up. He has these mornings sometimes, mornings when the idea of training is subsumed by his body’s need for rest. Zoro doesn’t often listen to his body, he’s stubborn that way, but when it asks him for sleep or booze, those are the times he actually does pay attention. It’s one of those kinds of days and so he just can’t bring himself to care as he dozes away the prime training hours of the morning.
Besides, even though it is somewhat unusual for his sleep-loving body to still be resting in his hammock at this late hour it isn’t exactly new for someone to have found him and decided to join him in his rest. He’s become accustomed to waking up with his arms wrapped around Chopper, snuggling the reindeer tightly against his chest as if the diminutive doctor were some sort of oversized toy, albeit a living, breathing one. He only growls anymore, throwing glares that emphasize just how much he wants to kick whoever the culprit might be’s ass, when he gets laughed at or called cute. Chopper hadn’t taken it well the first time he’d chased Usopp around the ship, threatening to cut his nose off if the sharpshooter didn’t learn not to poke it in other people’s business. Anyway, Chopper cuddled everyone. It just happened that he tended to like Zoro’s arms and lap best. And Zoro wasn’t secretly proud of that fact, not at all.
On two separate occasions he’d shared a hammock with the shitty chef and once with Usopp. All three times had been the product of too much alcohol on his part and a sense of malicious whimsy on the part of his nakama. Okay, so Sanji and Usopp had both been drunk too. And the one time he’d dumped the cook’s stupid skinny ass in with Longnose and watched them as they woke up the next morning had been hilarious. Still, he certainly wasn’t drunk and his asshole sense hadn’t been set off so it was highly unlikely that his hammock would soon be shared by either of them.
Luffy sleeps with him from time to time. Hell, they’ve been sleeping together off and on since the first night they met. Both of them are warm-bodied individuals. Even so, a brisk chill breeze sweeping over the waves had led to the sensible decision for them to lie closely together on the bottom of the dinghy Luffy had. Too bad his new captain wasn’t smart enough to grab blankets or rations or anything any sensible sailor would know they’d need out on the ocean. Too bad he wasn’t either. But somehow, after having screamed at the laughing, nonchalant boy for an hour and stalked three feet away to sulk for another hour at one end of the boat, his back resolutely turned, the body that had ended up against his, sun-warmed and with the perfect amount of weight resting against his shoulder, across his chest, had been enough for him to forget his worries until the sun rose the next morning and awoke two starving teenage male stomachs.
Not too terribly long after that, about a month give or take, they’d gotten Merry and their own hammocks, and if Zoro missed spending most of his nights sharing warmth and breath with the other boy, he’d buried those sentiments deeply enough that he hadn’t noticed. Anyway, Luffy somehow managed to find his way into his hammock at least once every two weeks anyhow. The captain had nightmares sometimes and sometimes he sleepwalked and sometimes he just felt like and Zoro never had been very good at refusing Luffy anything. It wasn’t like it hurt his own rest after all. Luffy, surprisingly, always slept like a log whenever he was curled around another body. Only alone was he an octopus of rubber limbs and snores and muttered demands for meat.
Luffy has also shared a bed with him, and a sleeping bag, and the deck, and the crow’s nest, and a broom closet in a frozen castle, and a nest made out of clouds, and more bits and pieces of slightly private landscape than Zoro cares to admit. They’ve slept in some of these places but not all of them. Luffy likes to drag him off late at night and do things that the swordsman enjoys far more than he suspects he should, far more than his pride wants to let him allow. Still, they’ve never fooled around in a hammock. They’ve only ever even kissed maybe twice. There’s an unspoken rule between them that says ‘not anywhere we could easily get caught, not where we all sleep.’ Because everyone knows, and Zoro knows that everyone knows, but it’s easier to pretend that they don’t because he can put off confronting the soft glowing warmth that suffuses his chest and the chinks in his mental armor that Luffy has caused for just a while longer.
So, when a warm knee is placed alongside the back of his own as he lies curled on his side in his hammock, he’s unconcerned. A small part of him is even happy. He’s so comfortable but Luffy resting up against him, matching the curve of his body, would make it even better. Zoro is in his lazy, dozing happy place, and it doesn’t occur to him to question Luffy’s presence in the boys’ room at this particular hour of the morning.
Three hundred and sixty-four days out of the year, the very first thought on Luffy’s mind is BREAKFAST or MEAT or FOOD or some other variation on this theme. Usually his next thought is also about his stomach and its aching emptiness after his many hours of sleeping rather than eating. Then he thinks about his hat and makes sure it is still safe on his head. Typically he goes back to thinking about food and little else – barring any major distractions – until after breakfast has been served. Oh, and sometimes he remembers that he needs to pee and that Nami doesn’t like him running around on the deck without all of his clothes on. On this morning, though, the one morning out of the year that his mind ISN’T focused exclusively on food, Zoro has chosen to sleep in. And that, in Luffy’s mind, makes everything perfect and okay.
Like most healthy young men, the male portion of the Going Merry’s crew tends to wake up with hard-ons most mornings. They each deal with them in their own way: Zoro ignores his and goes to train, stubborn and insistent until the burn of muscles and the pleasant rush of endorphins from exercising drives it away. Sanji and Usopp also do their best to forget about the demands of the flesh between their legs, but neither of them has trained their bodies to obey the way Zoro has, and routinely they make their way to the bathroom or the kitchen or the hold at least one morning a week to take care of the problem. Luffy doesn’t seem to know his morning wood exists. He doesn’t try to get rid of it nor does he seem to be ignoring it because he’s run around naked in the presence of the ladies sporting it without any seeming awareness. It just kind of goes away on its own as his body wakes up and he thinks about food. As for Chopper, well, Zoro has decided his personal cuddle toy is too young and refuses to even think about the idea.
This morning, Luffy woke up and he didn’t immediately think of breakfast meat. Instead he thought of Zoro and Zoro’s scar that he loved to trace with his tongue and Zoro’s ass, which he’d just been dreaming about in a most pleasant, R-rated fashion. And Luffy realized that the equipment that normally only bothered him in the afternoon or late at night or after a particularly satisfying fight was alert and ready to go. Now Luffy, despite being largely unfamiliar with the demands of morning erections, was no stranger to wanking. He was, after all, a seventeen-year-old boy who’d been without parental supervision for most of his life. Once Ace had left and he’d had their house to himself, he’d learned some most interesting things about his unique rubber physiology that he couldn’t show to Makino or his friends in town. However, he’d gotten used to having Zoro help him out with these urges and, after his dream-memory of that night in the Alabastian desert, he wanted the swordsman far more than his own hand or mouth. How convenient for him that his swordsman still happened to be dozing in his hammock.
It was an unsuspecting, vulnerable backside that Zoro presented to Luffy, and if he could have seen the gleam in his captain’s eyes, he never would have thought to himself how nice it would be for a bit of a cuddle before breakfast. (Not that Zoro EVER thought such thoughts. He was a manly man and only snuggled with Chopper because the reindeer wanted it.) Rather, he would have ran as far away from Luffy as he could get because that particular glint meant his ass was in for it. But Zoro didn’t see this, didn’t have any idea what he was in for until Luffy had gotten settled, arm wrapped firmly over his and locked tightly around his chest while rubbery legs tangled with his own. There was something pressing most firmly and demandingly into the seam of his pants and it took Zoro a moment to realize just what it was, because Luffy didn’t normally become horny before he’d had lunch.
By then it was too late. Luffy’s other hand had wormed its way between his waist and the ropes, slipped under his haramaki and his pants. And it found Zoro’s own half-hard cock, which the swordsman had been ignoring like always in favor of the bliss of sleep. In Luffy’s mind, this meant that Zoro was ready, willing, and able to play. His mouth found Zoro’s neck, lipping at it in a lazy, sensual fashion as he shifted his hips and started stroking. It took Zoro’s sleep-clouded brain several seconds to process all the sudden input of sensation, but when it did he immediately started trying to squirm out of Luffy’s hold.
“O-Oi! What’re you doin’?”
Luffy, who had never been one to talk much during sex merely tightened his grip and bucked more firmly into the seat of Zoro’s pants.
“Hey! Stop that! We…we can’t do that here!”
It took a little while, but Luffy did halt his actions for a bit while his mind processed this.
“Why not?”
That was a good question. There was no real reason, exactly, since the room was empty but for themselves, but Zoro didn’t like that their unspoken rule was being broken.
“Because!” Zoro knew that wasn’t going to be enough. “What if someone comes in here? And I was sleeping, asshole. I don’t feel like doin’ that right now.”
The captain considers this and decides that he doesn’t really care if someone sees them. They’ll just turn around and walk right back out like all the other times that has happened. As for Zoro’s apparent refusal, well, the dick in his hands in fully erect now and he can feel it pulsing softly. Like usual, the swordsman wants him but doesn’t want to admit it. Well, he’s played this game plenty of times before and Zoro always gives in if he persists long enough.
He smiles against Zoro’s tanned neck and tilts his head so that he can twine his tongue through and around the metal studs holding Zoro’s earrings in place. His hands go back to work too; one stroking and the other easing up Zoro’s shirt so he can feel the warm scar-divided skin of his stomach and chest.
The tongue wrapping around his ear, whispering slick and wet down the line of his jaw is almost enough. It isn’t fair that every part of Luffy’s body can stretch and that the Devil’s Fruit imbued him with strength, too. Every wrestling match he’s had with the captain he’s lost, even those fought entirely inside their mouths. For all that Zoro’s jaw is powerful and his oral technique unrivaled, there’s nothing he can do about the fact that Luffy can wrap around his tongue so many times that he can no longer taste or feel anything else. Now he’s trapped and he can feel his resolve weakening as Luffy touches him and thrusts. Except…
“L-Luffy. We really can’t! We’re in a hammock!”
“So?”
“So…” and Zoro bucks back firmly against Luffy when the captain thrusts again, setting the hammock swaying. “We’ll fall out.”
“Is that all?”
Zoro doesn’t have time to worry about the tone of Luffy’s voice before the hammock is swinging harder and faster, rocked by Luffy’s movements. And then, before he’s had time to do much more than shout and try to wriggle free so he can at least attempt to stabilize them, they’re in the air and then he’s on the chilly wood of the deck and somehow his pants are already around his knees – damn Luffy and his speedy, tricky, dexterous-when-he-wants-them-to-be rubber limbs.
What happened, Zoro wonders, to my nap, to my happy place? And why didn’t I get up to train instead of being indulgent to my body?
The only answer to the first question is Luffy. As to the second…who can explain the karmic timing of the universe? After all, Luffy had never before seemed to realize that morning sex existed. Zoro, by all rights, should have been safe to continue his dozing. But such was not to be as the captain finished tugging off Zoro’s pants, his own shorts already long vanished over the back of the couch.
“Now we can’t fall out since we already have!” Luffy flipped the swordsman over onto his back and crawled between his legs, leaning down to kiss him with a tenderness that belied his earlier actions.
Zoro, realizing that his cause was lost as warm knees spread his own wider, decided what the hell and gave in just as Luffy knew he would. After all, he always did.
Rating: PG-13/Rish
Pairing: LuZo
Word Count: 2429
When a warm knee is placed into his hammock, making the ropes creak a little as it sways, Roronoa Zoro doesn’t stir from his slumber. He’s not really asleep but not really awake yet either; too comfortable to be bothered with the troublesome effort of cracking open his eyelids, let alone stirring a finger towards any thought of getting up. He has these mornings sometimes, mornings when the idea of training is subsumed by his body’s need for rest. Zoro doesn’t often listen to his body, he’s stubborn that way, but when it asks him for sleep or booze, those are the times he actually does pay attention. It’s one of those kinds of days and so he just can’t bring himself to care as he dozes away the prime training hours of the morning.
Besides, even though it is somewhat unusual for his sleep-loving body to still be resting in his hammock at this late hour it isn’t exactly new for someone to have found him and decided to join him in his rest. He’s become accustomed to waking up with his arms wrapped around Chopper, snuggling the reindeer tightly against his chest as if the diminutive doctor were some sort of oversized toy, albeit a living, breathing one. He only growls anymore, throwing glares that emphasize just how much he wants to kick whoever the culprit might be’s ass, when he gets laughed at or called cute. Chopper hadn’t taken it well the first time he’d chased Usopp around the ship, threatening to cut his nose off if the sharpshooter didn’t learn not to poke it in other people’s business. Anyway, Chopper cuddled everyone. It just happened that he tended to like Zoro’s arms and lap best. And Zoro wasn’t secretly proud of that fact, not at all.
On two separate occasions he’d shared a hammock with the shitty chef and once with Usopp. All three times had been the product of too much alcohol on his part and a sense of malicious whimsy on the part of his nakama. Okay, so Sanji and Usopp had both been drunk too. And the one time he’d dumped the cook’s stupid skinny ass in with Longnose and watched them as they woke up the next morning had been hilarious. Still, he certainly wasn’t drunk and his asshole sense hadn’t been set off so it was highly unlikely that his hammock would soon be shared by either of them.
Luffy sleeps with him from time to time. Hell, they’ve been sleeping together off and on since the first night they met. Both of them are warm-bodied individuals. Even so, a brisk chill breeze sweeping over the waves had led to the sensible decision for them to lie closely together on the bottom of the dinghy Luffy had. Too bad his new captain wasn’t smart enough to grab blankets or rations or anything any sensible sailor would know they’d need out on the ocean. Too bad he wasn’t either. But somehow, after having screamed at the laughing, nonchalant boy for an hour and stalked three feet away to sulk for another hour at one end of the boat, his back resolutely turned, the body that had ended up against his, sun-warmed and with the perfect amount of weight resting against his shoulder, across his chest, had been enough for him to forget his worries until the sun rose the next morning and awoke two starving teenage male stomachs.
Not too terribly long after that, about a month give or take, they’d gotten Merry and their own hammocks, and if Zoro missed spending most of his nights sharing warmth and breath with the other boy, he’d buried those sentiments deeply enough that he hadn’t noticed. Anyway, Luffy somehow managed to find his way into his hammock at least once every two weeks anyhow. The captain had nightmares sometimes and sometimes he sleepwalked and sometimes he just felt like and Zoro never had been very good at refusing Luffy anything. It wasn’t like it hurt his own rest after all. Luffy, surprisingly, always slept like a log whenever he was curled around another body. Only alone was he an octopus of rubber limbs and snores and muttered demands for meat.
Luffy has also shared a bed with him, and a sleeping bag, and the deck, and the crow’s nest, and a broom closet in a frozen castle, and a nest made out of clouds, and more bits and pieces of slightly private landscape than Zoro cares to admit. They’ve slept in some of these places but not all of them. Luffy likes to drag him off late at night and do things that the swordsman enjoys far more than he suspects he should, far more than his pride wants to let him allow. Still, they’ve never fooled around in a hammock. They’ve only ever even kissed maybe twice. There’s an unspoken rule between them that says ‘not anywhere we could easily get caught, not where we all sleep.’ Because everyone knows, and Zoro knows that everyone knows, but it’s easier to pretend that they don’t because he can put off confronting the soft glowing warmth that suffuses his chest and the chinks in his mental armor that Luffy has caused for just a while longer.
So, when a warm knee is placed alongside the back of his own as he lies curled on his side in his hammock, he’s unconcerned. A small part of him is even happy. He’s so comfortable but Luffy resting up against him, matching the curve of his body, would make it even better. Zoro is in his lazy, dozing happy place, and it doesn’t occur to him to question Luffy’s presence in the boys’ room at this particular hour of the morning.
Three hundred and sixty-four days out of the year, the very first thought on Luffy’s mind is BREAKFAST or MEAT or FOOD or some other variation on this theme. Usually his next thought is also about his stomach and its aching emptiness after his many hours of sleeping rather than eating. Then he thinks about his hat and makes sure it is still safe on his head. Typically he goes back to thinking about food and little else – barring any major distractions – until after breakfast has been served. Oh, and sometimes he remembers that he needs to pee and that Nami doesn’t like him running around on the deck without all of his clothes on. On this morning, though, the one morning out of the year that his mind ISN’T focused exclusively on food, Zoro has chosen to sleep in. And that, in Luffy’s mind, makes everything perfect and okay.
Like most healthy young men, the male portion of the Going Merry’s crew tends to wake up with hard-ons most mornings. They each deal with them in their own way: Zoro ignores his and goes to train, stubborn and insistent until the burn of muscles and the pleasant rush of endorphins from exercising drives it away. Sanji and Usopp also do their best to forget about the demands of the flesh between their legs, but neither of them has trained their bodies to obey the way Zoro has, and routinely they make their way to the bathroom or the kitchen or the hold at least one morning a week to take care of the problem. Luffy doesn’t seem to know his morning wood exists. He doesn’t try to get rid of it nor does he seem to be ignoring it because he’s run around naked in the presence of the ladies sporting it without any seeming awareness. It just kind of goes away on its own as his body wakes up and he thinks about food. As for Chopper, well, Zoro has decided his personal cuddle toy is too young and refuses to even think about the idea.
This morning, Luffy woke up and he didn’t immediately think of breakfast meat. Instead he thought of Zoro and Zoro’s scar that he loved to trace with his tongue and Zoro’s ass, which he’d just been dreaming about in a most pleasant, R-rated fashion. And Luffy realized that the equipment that normally only bothered him in the afternoon or late at night or after a particularly satisfying fight was alert and ready to go. Now Luffy, despite being largely unfamiliar with the demands of morning erections, was no stranger to wanking. He was, after all, a seventeen-year-old boy who’d been without parental supervision for most of his life. Once Ace had left and he’d had their house to himself, he’d learned some most interesting things about his unique rubber physiology that he couldn’t show to Makino or his friends in town. However, he’d gotten used to having Zoro help him out with these urges and, after his dream-memory of that night in the Alabastian desert, he wanted the swordsman far more than his own hand or mouth. How convenient for him that his swordsman still happened to be dozing in his hammock.
It was an unsuspecting, vulnerable backside that Zoro presented to Luffy, and if he could have seen the gleam in his captain’s eyes, he never would have thought to himself how nice it would be for a bit of a cuddle before breakfast. (Not that Zoro EVER thought such thoughts. He was a manly man and only snuggled with Chopper because the reindeer wanted it.) Rather, he would have ran as far away from Luffy as he could get because that particular glint meant his ass was in for it. But Zoro didn’t see this, didn’t have any idea what he was in for until Luffy had gotten settled, arm wrapped firmly over his and locked tightly around his chest while rubbery legs tangled with his own. There was something pressing most firmly and demandingly into the seam of his pants and it took Zoro a moment to realize just what it was, because Luffy didn’t normally become horny before he’d had lunch.
By then it was too late. Luffy’s other hand had wormed its way between his waist and the ropes, slipped under his haramaki and his pants. And it found Zoro’s own half-hard cock, which the swordsman had been ignoring like always in favor of the bliss of sleep. In Luffy’s mind, this meant that Zoro was ready, willing, and able to play. His mouth found Zoro’s neck, lipping at it in a lazy, sensual fashion as he shifted his hips and started stroking. It took Zoro’s sleep-clouded brain several seconds to process all the sudden input of sensation, but when it did he immediately started trying to squirm out of Luffy’s hold.
“O-Oi! What’re you doin’?”
Luffy, who had never been one to talk much during sex merely tightened his grip and bucked more firmly into the seat of Zoro’s pants.
“Hey! Stop that! We…we can’t do that here!”
It took a little while, but Luffy did halt his actions for a bit while his mind processed this.
“Why not?”
That was a good question. There was no real reason, exactly, since the room was empty but for themselves, but Zoro didn’t like that their unspoken rule was being broken.
“Because!” Zoro knew that wasn’t going to be enough. “What if someone comes in here? And I was sleeping, asshole. I don’t feel like doin’ that right now.”
The captain considers this and decides that he doesn’t really care if someone sees them. They’ll just turn around and walk right back out like all the other times that has happened. As for Zoro’s apparent refusal, well, the dick in his hands in fully erect now and he can feel it pulsing softly. Like usual, the swordsman wants him but doesn’t want to admit it. Well, he’s played this game plenty of times before and Zoro always gives in if he persists long enough.
He smiles against Zoro’s tanned neck and tilts his head so that he can twine his tongue through and around the metal studs holding Zoro’s earrings in place. His hands go back to work too; one stroking and the other easing up Zoro’s shirt so he can feel the warm scar-divided skin of his stomach and chest.
The tongue wrapping around his ear, whispering slick and wet down the line of his jaw is almost enough. It isn’t fair that every part of Luffy’s body can stretch and that the Devil’s Fruit imbued him with strength, too. Every wrestling match he’s had with the captain he’s lost, even those fought entirely inside their mouths. For all that Zoro’s jaw is powerful and his oral technique unrivaled, there’s nothing he can do about the fact that Luffy can wrap around his tongue so many times that he can no longer taste or feel anything else. Now he’s trapped and he can feel his resolve weakening as Luffy touches him and thrusts. Except…
“L-Luffy. We really can’t! We’re in a hammock!”
“So?”
“So…” and Zoro bucks back firmly against Luffy when the captain thrusts again, setting the hammock swaying. “We’ll fall out.”
“Is that all?”
Zoro doesn’t have time to worry about the tone of Luffy’s voice before the hammock is swinging harder and faster, rocked by Luffy’s movements. And then, before he’s had time to do much more than shout and try to wriggle free so he can at least attempt to stabilize them, they’re in the air and then he’s on the chilly wood of the deck and somehow his pants are already around his knees – damn Luffy and his speedy, tricky, dexterous-when-he-wants-them-to-be rubber limbs.
What happened, Zoro wonders, to my nap, to my happy place? And why didn’t I get up to train instead of being indulgent to my body?
The only answer to the first question is Luffy. As to the second…who can explain the karmic timing of the universe? After all, Luffy had never before seemed to realize that morning sex existed. Zoro, by all rights, should have been safe to continue his dozing. But such was not to be as the captain finished tugging off Zoro’s pants, his own shorts already long vanished over the back of the couch.
“Now we can’t fall out since we already have!” Luffy flipped the swordsman over onto his back and crawled between his legs, leaning down to kiss him with a tenderness that belied his earlier actions.
Zoro, realizing that his cause was lost as warm knees spread his own wider, decided what the hell and gave in just as Luffy knew he would. After all, he always did.
