For the Winter '07 ZoSopp Gift Exchange
Jan. 31st, 2008 01:42 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dethoratsPrompt: Zoro discovers Usopp's secret stash of suggestive drawings
Rating: R
Pairing: Usopp/Zoro/Usopp
Word Count: 5,954
It had been an accident, a mere coincidence. Roronoa Zoro, despite his relatively few qualms about physical bareness, was a fan of privacy. And that extended to respecting the privacy of his nakama. He did not pry, did not question, did not even often comment or pay attention. He respected and followed his captain’s lead on the subject, which was a simple view that noted the past was the past and it was the present and the future that really mattered. The cache he stumbled over had not been found as the result of deliberate snooping. No, it was purely an unintentional discovery but what he did as a result was a slightly different matter.
Zoro had been looking for a book. Yes, a book. As unlikely as it sounded, the swordsman was capable of reading and, while he might have wished to, even he wasn’t able to spend every single minute of every single day either training or sleeping, particularly when the weather wasn’t cooperating as happened to be the case on that snowy day. Sometimes, after he’d been commanded to stow the weights by either Chopper’s too pathetically cute to resist stern face or the witch’s usual barked irritated threats, and when sleep just wouldn’t come and Luffy was busy and not harassing him and there wasn’t any booze to be had, well, even Zoro would seek out some simple alone time and mental relaxation by reading. The problem was, even with Robin and Chopper to expand the small selection of books Nami had brought on the Going Merry, Zoro couldn’t be diverted by medical or geographical texts. And the archaeologist’s books were often so obscure as to be stultifying, while he’d already tackled the few history texts twice through.
He’d been hunting lighter fare, a vague recollection of Usopp regaling Luffy and Chopper with stories from some dime store adventure trade a few weeks ago spurring him on despite the fact that he’d been hunting for nearly half an hour. But Zoro was nothing if not stubborn, and too willful to stop and simply ask – that would be too much like asking for directions, something anathema to his manhood - the sniper about it, and so he had scoured the Going Merry. As he’d searched, and turned up nothing beyond the usual useless odds and ends, Zoro had slowly remembered the various built-in cubby holes that pockmarked the Merry, just as they did in most ships, space being at a premium and all. Persistence kept him searching, after all he had nothing better to do, and a vague sort of curiosity about just what all WAS on the ship led him to look in some of the less obvious places. And that was how the swordsman had ended up in the aft cannon deck, having moved a small pyramid of cannon balls off of what had looked like a deck box, and staring in surprise at what he had uncovered.
Packed into the three foot by two foot space, tucked in among canisters of gunpowder and spare lengths of fuses, was a small trove of belongings. The book was there, Zoro had noted absently as his eyes flicked over the contents, but there was also much more. Clearly, given the location and the way cannon balls had been stacked on top, Usopp had meant for his things to remain private. If not, he probably would have just kept them in his bulging footlocker or even in his bag, which seemed to have more space inside of it than its exterior would lead one to believe. He should have stopped then, given up on reading the book, and closed the lid, put the cannon balls back and found anything else to do. It would have been right. It would have been proper. It would have been respectful of Usopp’s privacy. But two things made Zoro hesitate.
The first was the fact that he and the long-nosed sniper had slowly been moving beyond simple nakama status. Zoro couldn’t pinpoint when exactly things between them had begun to change. Perhaps it was on Drum, in the cold and with the shared frustration of not knowing what was happening. Or under the broiling heat of the sun in Alabasta, staggering through the desert, a thin arm slung across his shoulder and sweaty weight at his side. But somehow, by the time they’d watched Luffy destroy a god, kissing in the shadows while sitting on clouds had felt right, if not a tiny bit intimidating. Long stretches of ocean, no longer a cloudy sea, as they followed the log post ever forward were filled with tentative touches and low voices, stolen snatches of privacy. And Zoro, who had never felt that particular twinging in his chest before, had approached their burgeoning relationship cautiously but whole-heartedly. Usopp was different from most of the people he’d met in his life and there was just something about his artist’s spirit and hidden well of courage that drew the swordsman in. For all that he was a self-proclaimed liar, most of Usopp was there on the surface for the world to see. But a few depths remained hidden and it was those unseen facets that tugged at Zoro the most. He was, he believed, looking at one such secret right there.
And that was the second thing that kept him staring, frozen and rooted rather than quickly removing all traces of his inadvertent discovery. Drawings, piles of them, in ink and pencil and charcoal and paint and mediums he could never have named, were crammed in near to bursting. Zoro had known that Usopp was skilled. He’d seen the younger man work, had even willingly, and easily since napping was never a hardship, posed himself a time or two. But he hadn’t realized just how prolific the sniper was. Even if all of the works went back as far as Usopp’s joining and departure from Syrup Village, the collection was still staggering. The volume, though, wasn’t what had stopped the swordsman. Rather, it was the second or third picture, only a portion of which he could see from where it stuck out from beneath a quick sketch of Luffy dancing around a roaring fire with a pair of sky wolves.
There was no doubt the figure in the drawing was meant to be him. If the choice of green colored pencil for the hair hadn’t been enough proof, the scar on the bare chest was unmistakably his. Zoro could only see the upper right half of the drawing, just the left portion of his face and part of his chest, but that glimpse had captured him completely. There was a black band of cloth over his drawn counterpart’s eyes, likely the same one he usually wore around his bicep, and his shoulder was rolled back, his arm disappearing behind him. As for his mouth, what he could see of it showed him an expression he didn’t recognize. His lips were slightly parted, gently pursed as if he was taking in a breath, but there was a slackness to his jaw that he wouldn’t have noticed from looking in a mirror. The softness of his expression, and the unexpected heat that welled in his stomach as he studied his blinded face, had him reaching forward. But it was to uncover the drawing rather than to close the lid of the box as he probably should have.
The full drawing found Zoro sucking in a breath; surprise rushing through him in tingles and flutters. Besides the blindfold and arms that were no doubt bound behind his back, his drawn counterpart’s ankles were tied to the legs of the chair he sat in. His knees were splayed open, his haramaki nowhere to be seen, and his pants were unbuttoned. Nothing was visible beyond the beginnings of a darker green trail heading south from his navel, but the intent was clear. Clear and having a definite affect on him. Zoro made a quick adjustment south of his waistline and squatted down next to the box. The drawing that had captured his attention was moved to the side and he rooted through the rest of the pile with no other thought than to see what else Usopp had drawn.
All told, there were about eight other pictures that Zoro considered more than a little suggestive. Three were of him completely naked, although all were from behind. The one that captured him in the bathroom, grin more like a leer visible in the mirror and the faintest glimpse of his equipment between slightly parted thighs, was unquestionable, and the remaining two, what with the tilt of his hips in the one and the obvious care given to his ass in the other, also seemed to qualify. Then there was the close-up of him and Usopp kissing and that wouldn’t have been notable except that the sniper had chosen minimal colors to add to his pen sketch; their hair, his earrings, and a flicker of red for the tongue the Zoro figure was slipping into the Usopp figure’s mouth. There was also a torso study that counted only because of the hasty doodle in one corner in which one of the nipples was pinched by a small clamp – his unless Usopp happened to be imagining someone else with that distinctive slashed furrow through their flesh. Another was of Usopp in profile, nude and with a hand wrapped around himself. His visible eye was closed and his brow was faintly knotted as if in concentration. The last two works were once again of the swordsman, both times with a popsicle in his hand. Zoro had grinned upon seeing them, remembering Usopp’s odd behavior from that hot day a few weeks ago and now literally getting the picture. In one he was licking a stripe up the side of the cherry ice and in the other he’d practically swallowed back the entire thing. They wouldn’t have been quite so bad if the sniper hadn’t put a certain directness to his gaze, a smirk hovering around his lips, that glint in his eyes.
It was a side of himself he’d certainly never pictured, never felt himself knowingly using, and yet despite Usopp’s vivid imagination there was an element of realnesss to the drawings. The lines around his mouth as he grinned a certain way, the way his right eyebrow rose slightly in the one popsicle portrait, they had to have come from direct observation. Which meant Usopp was seeing things Zoro wasn’t fully consciously aware he was doing. And that made the swordsman wonder just else he was missing. He hadn’t thought very far ahead, preferring to take each moment with the sniper as it came. The future meant Mihawk and victory or death. Zoro couldn’t afford to project beyond that moment in time. Guilt, regret; he’d felt them both already but he had decided that living in the present, in the now that he had, was more important than guessing at the future. Besides, thinking negatively only meant negative results and Zoro was determined to become the greatest swordsman in the world. But he had neglected the fact that being in a relationship involved two people. Usopp obviously wasn’t dwelling solely in the present if his drawings were anything to go on. And perhaps, if the heat in his stomach and the rather awkward bulge in the front of his pants were any indication, he needed to look ahead as well.
There was a lot on his mind as Zoro carefully repacked the box and he put in the first drawing of himself that he’d seen and pulled it back out at least three different times before he finally shrugged and tucked it in his haramaki. That one, with him bound and blind, had touched him in ways he didn’t quite understand yet, and he felt like he needed to reflect on it some more. Cannon balls stacked on top of the deck box and no trace of his inadvertent discovery left showing, Zoro left the aft cannon deck and ventured out into the softly falling snow on deck. It was cold still, the waves lapping against the hull muffled and hushed beneath the leaden gray sky. Zoro propped himself up against a rail and looked blankly out across the sea, most of his attention turned inwards. Usopp found him about an hour later, hair and shoulders piled up with a quarter inch of snow, and he made a sound between a cluck and a chuckle as he roused the swordsman. He hustled Zoro inside for dinner, stopping just long enough in the square of golden light coming from the galley window to steal a kiss. And if the older pirate was quieter than usual, well, Luffy’s usual dinner-stealing habit covered that up quite nicely.
For the next few days, Zoro pulled out the picture and studied it whenever he had a moment of sure privacy. He wasn’t worried about Usopp missing it - the state of the deck box indicated that the drawings were tossed in as they were completed and weren’t often organized – but it wasn’t something he wanted the damn chef or Nami to catch him with either. Each time he saw the drawing of himself in the chair, a frisson of something ran up his spine. Sometimes it was clearly lust but just as often it was a tingle of anticipation or a tiny thrill of fear. But his body always reacted and so Zoro was left trying to determine just what that meant. Other than the fear, which he’d promptly quashed and pretended he’d never felt in the first place, his reactions weren’t negative. This led to the sad conclusion that, yes, the damn ero-cook was as equally accurate in accusing him of being a pervert as he was in thusly labeling the shitty chef. Why in the world his body liked the idea of being blind and tied up still wasn’t clear but the swordsman wasn’t going to lie to himself and say the idea was entirely without attraction.
Also appealing, and growing more so with every frequent thought about the matter, was the idea of moving beyond stopping at kisses and caresses and tentative rubbing through layers of clothing. They were men after all, and Zoro was accustomed to going after what he wanted. And so far their relationship hadn’t caused any friction within the crew. Adding another dimension to it most likely would not either. Besides, the more he considered the situation, the harder it was to go to sleep at night without a quick trip to the relative privacy of the bathroom. Napping in the middle of a boring watch was becoming difficult too, what with his brain throwing up those pictures of Usopp’s he had found and his imagination supplying plenty of new ones. He wanted it, all of it, or at least most of it – that damn cook had really influenced his mind for the worse – and all he needed was the opportunity to get it. Of course, he would need Usopp to go along too if it was going to happen but Zoro was pretty sure the sniper wouldn’t object for very long.
His best course of action, the swordsman had decided, was to follow the lead of Usopp’s drawing, the one he’d filched. It had attracted him, had clearly touched the younger pirate or he wouldn’t have drawn it, and it was simple and vague enough that even if Usopp reacted poorly, he could play the situation off. Plus he would be able to admit he’d seen the drawings and get a lingering bit of guilt off of his chest. The remaining concerns were when and where. The Going Merry was a small ship and fairly crowded. And while Zoro had nothing against make-out sessions in the storage hold, being somewhere a bit more comfortable just in case things went pretty far seemed like the best course of action. Biding his time, carefully collecting and hiding what he thought he’d need, the swordsman finally saw his chance a week after he’d found the drawings.
The thickly falling snow that had surrounded the ship for the past ten days slowed and then stopped, freeing Chopper and Luffy from their confinement to either the galley or below deck. Nami and Robin were still firmly ensconced in the warm, cookie-fragrant kitchen with Sanji as he began dinner preparations. Zoro, pretending to nap next to the door, caught Usopp before he could run out after the captain and the doctor. Lazily, but failing to hide his excited anticipation from the absently eavesdropping older woman, he’d told Usopp to meet him in the boys’ cabin in fifteen minutes before strolling out the door to vanish below deck. The sniper had shivered at the bright gleam in the swordsman’s eyes, unformed expectations giving him energy as he too went outside and passed the slowly unfolding minutes in a rousing snowball battle with Luffy and Chopper.
Inside the boys’ cabin, Zoro worked quickly. First was the hastily scrawled note on the back of a stolen recipe card of the stupid chef’s warning everyone else away, tacked to the door with one of the nails Usopp was always dropping out of his pockets and onto the deck. Next, wary and as impressively silent as he was able, the swordsman snuck into the girls’ room and grabbed Nami’s desk chair, carrying it back with sweat on his brow and his ears alert for any hint of noise. A motley collection of pilfered cloth and rope emerged from beneath a battered green couch cushion to be dropped on the chair he’d placed in a clear space several yards back from the door and beneath the small pool of light from a hanging lantern. Finally Zoro kicked off his boots, tugged off his shirt, and removed his haramaki, tossing them over the back of the couch. The air was cool thanks to the weather and its accompanying low temperature but Zoro felt hot, almost feverish, as he walked over to the chair and grabbed his bonds.
A frayed piece of mooring rope took care of one ankle and it was with a slightly malicious smile on his face that Zoro bound the other with one of the chef’s spare ties. The button to his pants opened easily and the zipper sounded far too loud as he eased part of the way down. His fingers were less confident as he slipped his bandanna off his bicep and tied it across his eyes, shutting out the world and instantly heightening his other senses. Then, rather awkwardly, he used one of Usopp’s own bandannas, the pale cream one from Skypiea, to bind his wrists together behind his back. The cold trickled over him as he sat there, waiting and feeling slightly foolish. Goosebumps rose on his arms and along his back wherever it wasn’t resting against the unyielding wood of the chair. There was a draught in the room for a current of chilly air brushed his chest, making his stomach flinch away and stiffening his nipples. It seemed as though he could hear his blood, his pounding heart, and feel the quickening pulse that fluttered in his neck. Zoro shifted, tugged a little at his own knots, and licked lips that had gone very dry.
With nothing to do but wait and let anticipation and dread grow in competing snakes that twined in his guts, every snippet of noise, every flicker of breeze, every little itch and irritant, became outsized. The muffled footfalls of the three on deck, the chiming of his earrings every time he jerked his head in reaction, that drop of cooling sweat that had trailed from his hairline down his neck and was so very slowly edging down along the curve of his slightly jutting shoulder blade; all of it distracted him but not nearly enough. His body, despite all the niggling sensations, traitorously liked being tied up even more than it had liked contemplating the picture, the idea, the plan. Of all the sensations dancing along his skin, the part he most wanted to ease was the growing ache in his groin. His cock was filling, pressing up into the bite of his half-open zipper, and it demanded attention with every thrum of his heart, every throb of his blood. Zoro pulled again on his bonds, arms lifting up and away from the back of the chair while his muscles protested the unusual torsion, and curled his bare toes against the cold planks of the floor. Time seemed to pass in hours rather than minutes but finally he heard the deck door lift, felt the rush of frigid air against his overheated skin. His knees, which had splayed open unconsciously, jerked back together and he felt his breath catch as he counted out three of Usopp’s footfalls – they could only be his for no one clunked around quite as much as the sniper in his work boots - down the ladder rungs.
He sounded rough, even to himself. The words had a ragged edge as he forced them out. “Bolt the door.”
There was a smile in Usopp’s voice as he agreed and Zoro could hear it as clearly as he heard the thunk of metal sliding home. Nine more impacts of rubber on wood marked the sniper’s progress down the remainder of the ladder and Zoro felt each one shudder through him. He had done this to himself and it was too late for second-guessing or doubts. In less than a minute he’d know if it had been the right thing to do. Usopp’s boots landed solidly on the wooden floor and the swordsman somehow managed to catch the long-nosed pirate’s sudden intake of breath over the thundering of his pulse. Tentative steps forward were encouraging and Zoro relaxed, let out most of his pent-up tension as he slumped in his bonds. “Usopp,” he said, the other’s name clear and warm on his lips.
“Z-Zoro.” Usopp’s response wasn’t quite as steady but it didn’t sound afraid, only surprised and curious.”
“Found your drawings. Didn’t go huntin’ on purpose but I did look through them all when I found ‘em. Sorry.” Zoro’s tone wasn’t really apologetic as he made his confession but his conscience felt better and he let a small smile creep over his face. “They made me think, some of ‘em. And that one…” He shrugged as best as he could manage. “I guess you can see where it got me.”
“Yeah.”
Zoro didn’t hear Usopp take the last few steps forward but he could feel him near, the bare skin of his shoulder tingling with the sensation of fingers hovering just out of reach. The silence was loud and pregnant with possibility and Zoro held his breath and waited. Fingertips finally brushed over the round of his shoulder; touch as light as feathers but all the more powerful for his blind anticipation. He managed to hold in the gasp but apparently not the shiver for he could sense Usopp pulling back.
“Where…What-“ Usopp struggled with his words as Zoro waited, body attuned to the ghostly feeling that remained of the younger pirate’s brief contact. “Why?” he finally asked and the swordsman tilted his head, considered what to say.
“Because I liked that picture. Hell of a lot more than I expected. And because you had to too or you wouldn’t’ve drawn it. And because I really want to know what happens to me now. Because I want to see what you’ll do, what you were thinkin’ of when you drew it.”
“Oh.” There was a pause as Usopp contemplated the explanation and then he moved closer again and then around behind Zoro. “Fair enough.”
There was a rustling noise that the swordsman couldn’t identify and then fingers touched his bound wrists, pulled on the knot. It took him a moment to realize Usopp was adding to the bonds, tying something else to the loose ends of the cream bandanna. Zoro’s arms were gently drawn downward as the sniper worked, held even when the fingers left his wrists.
“There.” Usopp’s voice had dropped a notch, thickened and deepened, and when Zoro tried to move his arms, he realized they were now firmly held in place with only a modicum of sideways wiggle room. That, even more of his movement, his control, taken away, finished the job of hardening his cock and he couldn’t bite back a small exhalation when the sniper murmured softly into his ear. “Now I can show you.”
Lips, then teeth, then tongue introduced themselves to Zoro’s earlobe, tossed greetings at his earrings. Every nip and whisper of wet warmth, familiar as they had become, reverberated with new strength as the swordsman could only feel and not respond in kind. Sharp canines scraped against a tendon in his neck and roughened fingertips whispered against his hairline and traced down the visible part of his spine. Zoro embarrassed himself by groaning softly when Usopp’s mouth latched onto the thick place where his shoulder joined the column of his neck and bit down. The sniper rewarded him with sucking pressure and then a few soothing laves of his tongue before he straightened, walked back around to the swordsman’s front. Eyes raked over every inch, committing the sight Zoro made to memory, and Usopp chuckled as he stepped up between parted knees and tugged lightly the open top of Zoro’s pants.
“You got every detail. All of it.” Warm air whispered across Zoro’s cheek as Usopp leaned in, full lips barely brushing against his as the sniper continued. “And it looks even better than I imagined.”
Zoro surrendered to the press of Usopp’s mouth, the gentle demand of his tongue and let himself be kissed with the sort of possessiveness he had turned on the sniper in the past. Pliant and yielding but certainly not passive, he let the other young man dominate the kiss and enjoyed every moment of it. He followed after Usopp when the other slowly drew away, only stopping when his bonds brought him up short, and the gentle laughter that followed this brought a flush to his cheeks as he ducked his head. Short kisses, mere touches of lips to his skin, were rained on his face until Zoro tilted his head back up to accept them before Usopp turned his attention to the shoulder he’d neglected earlier. Once more teeth rasped over his skin, closed with a pleasantly focused sort of pain, and Usopp made sure that Zoro would bear marks above both of his collar bones for the next few days.
Weight settled briefly on Zoro’s thighs as Usopp lowered to his knees, mouth still latched onto the swordsman’s tanned flesh and his stomach pressing against the hardness that remained captive in half-open pants. The next few minutes were blurs of sensation to Zoro, an almost overwhelming influx of touch as Usopp freely explored all that the swordsman had bared and offered up. Mouth and hands moved over the expanse of the older pirate’s chest, taking note of every mark, every sensitive spot, every action that dragged noise from Zoro’s throat. Fingers climbed up and down the ladder of his ribs, traced the hard-earned indentations of his musculature, mapped a path of ticklish spots around his navel. Lips slowly trailed along the dense scar tissue that divided his chest, tongue fading as it touched directly only to reappear with vivid immediacy along the sensitive surrounding flesh. Teeth acquainted themselves with his nipples, sparking pleasure and vividly bringing forth another of Usopp’s drawings to Zoro’s mind. It was a powerful combination and, willing captive that he was, Zoro felt more free than usual to give voice to his enjoyment.
Every tiny groan or longer moan or grudging whimper that escaped the swordsman’ control was rewarded. Zoro could feel Usopp smile against his skin each time, the vibrations as he hummed his own pleasure, the kisses and nibbles and strokes of his hands. Give and take, that’s what it was about, Zoro decided, and let himself grow louder as Usopp progressed slowly, in scattershot fashion, inexorably downward. Finally his nose nudged against the top of Zoro’s waistband, chin brushing over the swordsman’s constrained excitement and making him jerk forward at the touch. Usopp chuckled at that, breath hot as it stirred through the darker green fuzz that marched south from Zoro’s belly button to disappear beneath his pants, and hooked his fingers beneath the fabric. “Lift up, will you?”
It was awkward and kind of hard, tied as he was, but Zoro braced his toes against the floor and raised his ass off the seat as Usopp shimmied his pants lower. The air was bracing on his bare skin, felt too good for Zoro to summon any embarrassment as his freed erection slapped against his stomach. Usopp made a hungry sort of sound as he finished pulling the pants down to bunch above Zoro’s knees. It was a good noise, pleased, and Zoro opened his mouth to say something but promptly forgot his words as heat closed around his cock and transported him to a completely new plateau of sensation. Some garbled sort of curse-Usopp’s name-cry of pleasure erupted from him and he tugged hard against bonds he momentarily forgot, wanting to touch the sniper, to ground himself.
Everything dwindled around him, his world narrowing to his cock and Usopp’s mouth. It was…good, better than he could have imagined. Back in East Blue he’d had offers, usually from the coarse sort of people who’d expect payment afterward but also from a few gratefully rescued citizens. He’d always turned them down, mind over body and all that, and now, receiving from someone he cared deeply about, he was still glad but…really…it was something he’d definitely been missing. The sniper’s nose nudged him as Usopp took more in, somehow all the more endearing for the way the younger pirate snorted in exasperation and twisted around for a better angle. Zoro didn’t care, didn’t give a damn about what else touched him or even who might obnoxiously burst in despite the warnings and the locks, just as long as that wet heat didn’t leave his cock. Shocks of pleasure skittered up his spine every time Usopp hollowed his cheeks or swirled his tongue and the addition of a warm palm gently cradling his balls had Zoro panting the sniper’s name in a tone he barely recognized as his own. Pressure grew, mounting and causing the swordsman to clench his fists, grit his teeth, and it was only right as he almost couldn’t bear anymore that he suddenly wanted more, something else.
“Usopp.” The sniper’s name was ground out and Zoro bit his lip as his cock threatened to mutiny in spite of his best efforts. “Wait. Stop.”
The loss of Usopp’s mouth was unpleasant as cool air felt even colder against his damp cock. He could sense the sniper’s upturned gaze, the expectant silence, and Zoro fought for control and breath. “I…you…you too, okay?”
There was a pause and then an equally breathless “okay” before Usopp’s hands settled again on his thighs as the sniper got to his feet. Rustles and the unmistakable sound of Usopp’s overall straps hitting the ground reached Zoro’s ears and then lean legs straddled his lap. Usopp’s weight was comforting in his lap, just the right amount of pressure, and then the sniper inched forward. His cock felt like a burning brand as it brushed against Zoro’s, silky skin not providing nearly enough friction, and Zoro gave out a rather embarrassingly pitiful sound of desperation.
“Let me see, too. Please.”
It wasn’t begging, or so he told himself, but he needed to see Usopp. Had to. Hands reached up and eased the bandanna off of his eyes, dropped it forgotten onto the floor and Zoro squinted in the sudden light. Dark curls framed the sniper’s face; draped over the navy cotton of Usopp’s shirt, and the swordsman realized just what had finished the job of immobilizing his hands. A flush glowed on olive skin and the younger man’s mouth was wet and slightly swollen. It demanded to be kissed and Zoro leaned forward, just able to brush his lips over Usopp’s. The sniper whimpered at whatever he saw in the Zoro’s eyes, scooted even closer. He draped an arm over the swordsman’s shoulder, reached down between them with his other hand. Clever fingers brought their erections together, flesh to flesh, and began to stroke. It was rougher than Usopp’s mouth but just as good, and Zoro chanced a glance downward and growled at the sight they made. That made Usopp jerk and press even closer, hand speeding up. Zoro returned his attention to the sniper’s face, not wanting to miss a single nuance of expression even though his own eyes wanted to slip closed in pleasure.
Usopp returned his gaze, brown eyes dazed even though his brows were knit in determination. His lips were parted slightly as he panted for breath and he too seemed to want to watch everything that happened as it passed over Zoro’s face. Hand and cock worked on Zoro, the edge that had been so sharp before becoming even more finely honed. Control was a battle and sweat broke out along his hairline, nails digging into his palms as he struggled to wait. Finally, captivated by the way the corner of Usopp’s mouth twitched with every pass of his palm, Zoro’s body was finished with waiting. He came in a single long shudder, eyes closing as his head fell back and he strained against his bonds, against Usopp. Zoro heard Usopp let out a whining sort of moan, managed to crack open one eye in time to see the younger pirate copy his motions, felt the wet heat that spattered his stomach and mingled with his ever-so-slightly earlier release.
Quiet gasps for breath filled the room and Usopp eased out of his stiffened posture, fell forward to rest his forehead against Zoro’s shoulder although he was careful to keep his front away from the mess on the swordsman. “Well,” he said finally, voice a touch giddy and still a bit breathless.
“Yeah,” Zoro replied, bone-deep satisfaction settling over him.
They rested that way for a few minutes longer and then Usopp got up, blushing a little as Zoro openly ogled his half-nude state. It took several tries, his fingers fumbling with nerves and happiness, to free Zoro’s hands. The swordsman stretched, rolling his shoulders and grunting in pleased surprise as the bite marks throbbed at the motion. He and Usopp untied his ankles and then Zoro stood, stepping out of his pants rather than pulling them back up. That made Usopp raise an eyebrow and Zoro just shrugged and picked up his bandanna, a small frown gracing his features as he wiped up the mess on his stomach. The best course of action would have been to return Nami’s stolen chair and hopped in the shower but sleep was calling. Zoro blew out the lantern and caught Usopp’s hand in the near darkness, towing him over to the couch. It was cramped but he managed to settle the sniper on top of himself and got a blanket over them both. Usopp, surprisingly, didn’t bother to protest and snuggled down against the swordsman, breathing evening out and slowing. Zoro closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around the skinny pirate. That had gone so much better than he could have dreamed and he fell asleep to pleasant thoughts of trying out some of the ideas Usopp’s other hidden drawings had inspired.
Rating: R
Pairing: Usopp/Zoro/Usopp
Word Count: 5,954
It had been an accident, a mere coincidence. Roronoa Zoro, despite his relatively few qualms about physical bareness, was a fan of privacy. And that extended to respecting the privacy of his nakama. He did not pry, did not question, did not even often comment or pay attention. He respected and followed his captain’s lead on the subject, which was a simple view that noted the past was the past and it was the present and the future that really mattered. The cache he stumbled over had not been found as the result of deliberate snooping. No, it was purely an unintentional discovery but what he did as a result was a slightly different matter.
Zoro had been looking for a book. Yes, a book. As unlikely as it sounded, the swordsman was capable of reading and, while he might have wished to, even he wasn’t able to spend every single minute of every single day either training or sleeping, particularly when the weather wasn’t cooperating as happened to be the case on that snowy day. Sometimes, after he’d been commanded to stow the weights by either Chopper’s too pathetically cute to resist stern face or the witch’s usual barked irritated threats, and when sleep just wouldn’t come and Luffy was busy and not harassing him and there wasn’t any booze to be had, well, even Zoro would seek out some simple alone time and mental relaxation by reading. The problem was, even with Robin and Chopper to expand the small selection of books Nami had brought on the Going Merry, Zoro couldn’t be diverted by medical or geographical texts. And the archaeologist’s books were often so obscure as to be stultifying, while he’d already tackled the few history texts twice through.
He’d been hunting lighter fare, a vague recollection of Usopp regaling Luffy and Chopper with stories from some dime store adventure trade a few weeks ago spurring him on despite the fact that he’d been hunting for nearly half an hour. But Zoro was nothing if not stubborn, and too willful to stop and simply ask – that would be too much like asking for directions, something anathema to his manhood - the sniper about it, and so he had scoured the Going Merry. As he’d searched, and turned up nothing beyond the usual useless odds and ends, Zoro had slowly remembered the various built-in cubby holes that pockmarked the Merry, just as they did in most ships, space being at a premium and all. Persistence kept him searching, after all he had nothing better to do, and a vague sort of curiosity about just what all WAS on the ship led him to look in some of the less obvious places. And that was how the swordsman had ended up in the aft cannon deck, having moved a small pyramid of cannon balls off of what had looked like a deck box, and staring in surprise at what he had uncovered.
Packed into the three foot by two foot space, tucked in among canisters of gunpowder and spare lengths of fuses, was a small trove of belongings. The book was there, Zoro had noted absently as his eyes flicked over the contents, but there was also much more. Clearly, given the location and the way cannon balls had been stacked on top, Usopp had meant for his things to remain private. If not, he probably would have just kept them in his bulging footlocker or even in his bag, which seemed to have more space inside of it than its exterior would lead one to believe. He should have stopped then, given up on reading the book, and closed the lid, put the cannon balls back and found anything else to do. It would have been right. It would have been proper. It would have been respectful of Usopp’s privacy. But two things made Zoro hesitate.
The first was the fact that he and the long-nosed sniper had slowly been moving beyond simple nakama status. Zoro couldn’t pinpoint when exactly things between them had begun to change. Perhaps it was on Drum, in the cold and with the shared frustration of not knowing what was happening. Or under the broiling heat of the sun in Alabasta, staggering through the desert, a thin arm slung across his shoulder and sweaty weight at his side. But somehow, by the time they’d watched Luffy destroy a god, kissing in the shadows while sitting on clouds had felt right, if not a tiny bit intimidating. Long stretches of ocean, no longer a cloudy sea, as they followed the log post ever forward were filled with tentative touches and low voices, stolen snatches of privacy. And Zoro, who had never felt that particular twinging in his chest before, had approached their burgeoning relationship cautiously but whole-heartedly. Usopp was different from most of the people he’d met in his life and there was just something about his artist’s spirit and hidden well of courage that drew the swordsman in. For all that he was a self-proclaimed liar, most of Usopp was there on the surface for the world to see. But a few depths remained hidden and it was those unseen facets that tugged at Zoro the most. He was, he believed, looking at one such secret right there.
And that was the second thing that kept him staring, frozen and rooted rather than quickly removing all traces of his inadvertent discovery. Drawings, piles of them, in ink and pencil and charcoal and paint and mediums he could never have named, were crammed in near to bursting. Zoro had known that Usopp was skilled. He’d seen the younger man work, had even willingly, and easily since napping was never a hardship, posed himself a time or two. But he hadn’t realized just how prolific the sniper was. Even if all of the works went back as far as Usopp’s joining and departure from Syrup Village, the collection was still staggering. The volume, though, wasn’t what had stopped the swordsman. Rather, it was the second or third picture, only a portion of which he could see from where it stuck out from beneath a quick sketch of Luffy dancing around a roaring fire with a pair of sky wolves.
There was no doubt the figure in the drawing was meant to be him. If the choice of green colored pencil for the hair hadn’t been enough proof, the scar on the bare chest was unmistakably his. Zoro could only see the upper right half of the drawing, just the left portion of his face and part of his chest, but that glimpse had captured him completely. There was a black band of cloth over his drawn counterpart’s eyes, likely the same one he usually wore around his bicep, and his shoulder was rolled back, his arm disappearing behind him. As for his mouth, what he could see of it showed him an expression he didn’t recognize. His lips were slightly parted, gently pursed as if he was taking in a breath, but there was a slackness to his jaw that he wouldn’t have noticed from looking in a mirror. The softness of his expression, and the unexpected heat that welled in his stomach as he studied his blinded face, had him reaching forward. But it was to uncover the drawing rather than to close the lid of the box as he probably should have.
The full drawing found Zoro sucking in a breath; surprise rushing through him in tingles and flutters. Besides the blindfold and arms that were no doubt bound behind his back, his drawn counterpart’s ankles were tied to the legs of the chair he sat in. His knees were splayed open, his haramaki nowhere to be seen, and his pants were unbuttoned. Nothing was visible beyond the beginnings of a darker green trail heading south from his navel, but the intent was clear. Clear and having a definite affect on him. Zoro made a quick adjustment south of his waistline and squatted down next to the box. The drawing that had captured his attention was moved to the side and he rooted through the rest of the pile with no other thought than to see what else Usopp had drawn.
All told, there were about eight other pictures that Zoro considered more than a little suggestive. Three were of him completely naked, although all were from behind. The one that captured him in the bathroom, grin more like a leer visible in the mirror and the faintest glimpse of his equipment between slightly parted thighs, was unquestionable, and the remaining two, what with the tilt of his hips in the one and the obvious care given to his ass in the other, also seemed to qualify. Then there was the close-up of him and Usopp kissing and that wouldn’t have been notable except that the sniper had chosen minimal colors to add to his pen sketch; their hair, his earrings, and a flicker of red for the tongue the Zoro figure was slipping into the Usopp figure’s mouth. There was also a torso study that counted only because of the hasty doodle in one corner in which one of the nipples was pinched by a small clamp – his unless Usopp happened to be imagining someone else with that distinctive slashed furrow through their flesh. Another was of Usopp in profile, nude and with a hand wrapped around himself. His visible eye was closed and his brow was faintly knotted as if in concentration. The last two works were once again of the swordsman, both times with a popsicle in his hand. Zoro had grinned upon seeing them, remembering Usopp’s odd behavior from that hot day a few weeks ago and now literally getting the picture. In one he was licking a stripe up the side of the cherry ice and in the other he’d practically swallowed back the entire thing. They wouldn’t have been quite so bad if the sniper hadn’t put a certain directness to his gaze, a smirk hovering around his lips, that glint in his eyes.
It was a side of himself he’d certainly never pictured, never felt himself knowingly using, and yet despite Usopp’s vivid imagination there was an element of realnesss to the drawings. The lines around his mouth as he grinned a certain way, the way his right eyebrow rose slightly in the one popsicle portrait, they had to have come from direct observation. Which meant Usopp was seeing things Zoro wasn’t fully consciously aware he was doing. And that made the swordsman wonder just else he was missing. He hadn’t thought very far ahead, preferring to take each moment with the sniper as it came. The future meant Mihawk and victory or death. Zoro couldn’t afford to project beyond that moment in time. Guilt, regret; he’d felt them both already but he had decided that living in the present, in the now that he had, was more important than guessing at the future. Besides, thinking negatively only meant negative results and Zoro was determined to become the greatest swordsman in the world. But he had neglected the fact that being in a relationship involved two people. Usopp obviously wasn’t dwelling solely in the present if his drawings were anything to go on. And perhaps, if the heat in his stomach and the rather awkward bulge in the front of his pants were any indication, he needed to look ahead as well.
There was a lot on his mind as Zoro carefully repacked the box and he put in the first drawing of himself that he’d seen and pulled it back out at least three different times before he finally shrugged and tucked it in his haramaki. That one, with him bound and blind, had touched him in ways he didn’t quite understand yet, and he felt like he needed to reflect on it some more. Cannon balls stacked on top of the deck box and no trace of his inadvertent discovery left showing, Zoro left the aft cannon deck and ventured out into the softly falling snow on deck. It was cold still, the waves lapping against the hull muffled and hushed beneath the leaden gray sky. Zoro propped himself up against a rail and looked blankly out across the sea, most of his attention turned inwards. Usopp found him about an hour later, hair and shoulders piled up with a quarter inch of snow, and he made a sound between a cluck and a chuckle as he roused the swordsman. He hustled Zoro inside for dinner, stopping just long enough in the square of golden light coming from the galley window to steal a kiss. And if the older pirate was quieter than usual, well, Luffy’s usual dinner-stealing habit covered that up quite nicely.
For the next few days, Zoro pulled out the picture and studied it whenever he had a moment of sure privacy. He wasn’t worried about Usopp missing it - the state of the deck box indicated that the drawings were tossed in as they were completed and weren’t often organized – but it wasn’t something he wanted the damn chef or Nami to catch him with either. Each time he saw the drawing of himself in the chair, a frisson of something ran up his spine. Sometimes it was clearly lust but just as often it was a tingle of anticipation or a tiny thrill of fear. But his body always reacted and so Zoro was left trying to determine just what that meant. Other than the fear, which he’d promptly quashed and pretended he’d never felt in the first place, his reactions weren’t negative. This led to the sad conclusion that, yes, the damn ero-cook was as equally accurate in accusing him of being a pervert as he was in thusly labeling the shitty chef. Why in the world his body liked the idea of being blind and tied up still wasn’t clear but the swordsman wasn’t going to lie to himself and say the idea was entirely without attraction.
Also appealing, and growing more so with every frequent thought about the matter, was the idea of moving beyond stopping at kisses and caresses and tentative rubbing through layers of clothing. They were men after all, and Zoro was accustomed to going after what he wanted. And so far their relationship hadn’t caused any friction within the crew. Adding another dimension to it most likely would not either. Besides, the more he considered the situation, the harder it was to go to sleep at night without a quick trip to the relative privacy of the bathroom. Napping in the middle of a boring watch was becoming difficult too, what with his brain throwing up those pictures of Usopp’s he had found and his imagination supplying plenty of new ones. He wanted it, all of it, or at least most of it – that damn cook had really influenced his mind for the worse – and all he needed was the opportunity to get it. Of course, he would need Usopp to go along too if it was going to happen but Zoro was pretty sure the sniper wouldn’t object for very long.
His best course of action, the swordsman had decided, was to follow the lead of Usopp’s drawing, the one he’d filched. It had attracted him, had clearly touched the younger pirate or he wouldn’t have drawn it, and it was simple and vague enough that even if Usopp reacted poorly, he could play the situation off. Plus he would be able to admit he’d seen the drawings and get a lingering bit of guilt off of his chest. The remaining concerns were when and where. The Going Merry was a small ship and fairly crowded. And while Zoro had nothing against make-out sessions in the storage hold, being somewhere a bit more comfortable just in case things went pretty far seemed like the best course of action. Biding his time, carefully collecting and hiding what he thought he’d need, the swordsman finally saw his chance a week after he’d found the drawings.
The thickly falling snow that had surrounded the ship for the past ten days slowed and then stopped, freeing Chopper and Luffy from their confinement to either the galley or below deck. Nami and Robin were still firmly ensconced in the warm, cookie-fragrant kitchen with Sanji as he began dinner preparations. Zoro, pretending to nap next to the door, caught Usopp before he could run out after the captain and the doctor. Lazily, but failing to hide his excited anticipation from the absently eavesdropping older woman, he’d told Usopp to meet him in the boys’ cabin in fifteen minutes before strolling out the door to vanish below deck. The sniper had shivered at the bright gleam in the swordsman’s eyes, unformed expectations giving him energy as he too went outside and passed the slowly unfolding minutes in a rousing snowball battle with Luffy and Chopper.
Inside the boys’ cabin, Zoro worked quickly. First was the hastily scrawled note on the back of a stolen recipe card of the stupid chef’s warning everyone else away, tacked to the door with one of the nails Usopp was always dropping out of his pockets and onto the deck. Next, wary and as impressively silent as he was able, the swordsman snuck into the girls’ room and grabbed Nami’s desk chair, carrying it back with sweat on his brow and his ears alert for any hint of noise. A motley collection of pilfered cloth and rope emerged from beneath a battered green couch cushion to be dropped on the chair he’d placed in a clear space several yards back from the door and beneath the small pool of light from a hanging lantern. Finally Zoro kicked off his boots, tugged off his shirt, and removed his haramaki, tossing them over the back of the couch. The air was cool thanks to the weather and its accompanying low temperature but Zoro felt hot, almost feverish, as he walked over to the chair and grabbed his bonds.
A frayed piece of mooring rope took care of one ankle and it was with a slightly malicious smile on his face that Zoro bound the other with one of the chef’s spare ties. The button to his pants opened easily and the zipper sounded far too loud as he eased part of the way down. His fingers were less confident as he slipped his bandanna off his bicep and tied it across his eyes, shutting out the world and instantly heightening his other senses. Then, rather awkwardly, he used one of Usopp’s own bandannas, the pale cream one from Skypiea, to bind his wrists together behind his back. The cold trickled over him as he sat there, waiting and feeling slightly foolish. Goosebumps rose on his arms and along his back wherever it wasn’t resting against the unyielding wood of the chair. There was a draught in the room for a current of chilly air brushed his chest, making his stomach flinch away and stiffening his nipples. It seemed as though he could hear his blood, his pounding heart, and feel the quickening pulse that fluttered in his neck. Zoro shifted, tugged a little at his own knots, and licked lips that had gone very dry.
With nothing to do but wait and let anticipation and dread grow in competing snakes that twined in his guts, every snippet of noise, every flicker of breeze, every little itch and irritant, became outsized. The muffled footfalls of the three on deck, the chiming of his earrings every time he jerked his head in reaction, that drop of cooling sweat that had trailed from his hairline down his neck and was so very slowly edging down along the curve of his slightly jutting shoulder blade; all of it distracted him but not nearly enough. His body, despite all the niggling sensations, traitorously liked being tied up even more than it had liked contemplating the picture, the idea, the plan. Of all the sensations dancing along his skin, the part he most wanted to ease was the growing ache in his groin. His cock was filling, pressing up into the bite of his half-open zipper, and it demanded attention with every thrum of his heart, every throb of his blood. Zoro pulled again on his bonds, arms lifting up and away from the back of the chair while his muscles protested the unusual torsion, and curled his bare toes against the cold planks of the floor. Time seemed to pass in hours rather than minutes but finally he heard the deck door lift, felt the rush of frigid air against his overheated skin. His knees, which had splayed open unconsciously, jerked back together and he felt his breath catch as he counted out three of Usopp’s footfalls – they could only be his for no one clunked around quite as much as the sniper in his work boots - down the ladder rungs.
He sounded rough, even to himself. The words had a ragged edge as he forced them out. “Bolt the door.”
There was a smile in Usopp’s voice as he agreed and Zoro could hear it as clearly as he heard the thunk of metal sliding home. Nine more impacts of rubber on wood marked the sniper’s progress down the remainder of the ladder and Zoro felt each one shudder through him. He had done this to himself and it was too late for second-guessing or doubts. In less than a minute he’d know if it had been the right thing to do. Usopp’s boots landed solidly on the wooden floor and the swordsman somehow managed to catch the long-nosed pirate’s sudden intake of breath over the thundering of his pulse. Tentative steps forward were encouraging and Zoro relaxed, let out most of his pent-up tension as he slumped in his bonds. “Usopp,” he said, the other’s name clear and warm on his lips.
“Z-Zoro.” Usopp’s response wasn’t quite as steady but it didn’t sound afraid, only surprised and curious.”
“Found your drawings. Didn’t go huntin’ on purpose but I did look through them all when I found ‘em. Sorry.” Zoro’s tone wasn’t really apologetic as he made his confession but his conscience felt better and he let a small smile creep over his face. “They made me think, some of ‘em. And that one…” He shrugged as best as he could manage. “I guess you can see where it got me.”
“Yeah.”
Zoro didn’t hear Usopp take the last few steps forward but he could feel him near, the bare skin of his shoulder tingling with the sensation of fingers hovering just out of reach. The silence was loud and pregnant with possibility and Zoro held his breath and waited. Fingertips finally brushed over the round of his shoulder; touch as light as feathers but all the more powerful for his blind anticipation. He managed to hold in the gasp but apparently not the shiver for he could sense Usopp pulling back.
“Where…What-“ Usopp struggled with his words as Zoro waited, body attuned to the ghostly feeling that remained of the younger pirate’s brief contact. “Why?” he finally asked and the swordsman tilted his head, considered what to say.
“Because I liked that picture. Hell of a lot more than I expected. And because you had to too or you wouldn’t’ve drawn it. And because I really want to know what happens to me now. Because I want to see what you’ll do, what you were thinkin’ of when you drew it.”
“Oh.” There was a pause as Usopp contemplated the explanation and then he moved closer again and then around behind Zoro. “Fair enough.”
There was a rustling noise that the swordsman couldn’t identify and then fingers touched his bound wrists, pulled on the knot. It took him a moment to realize Usopp was adding to the bonds, tying something else to the loose ends of the cream bandanna. Zoro’s arms were gently drawn downward as the sniper worked, held even when the fingers left his wrists.
“There.” Usopp’s voice had dropped a notch, thickened and deepened, and when Zoro tried to move his arms, he realized they were now firmly held in place with only a modicum of sideways wiggle room. That, even more of his movement, his control, taken away, finished the job of hardening his cock and he couldn’t bite back a small exhalation when the sniper murmured softly into his ear. “Now I can show you.”
Lips, then teeth, then tongue introduced themselves to Zoro’s earlobe, tossed greetings at his earrings. Every nip and whisper of wet warmth, familiar as they had become, reverberated with new strength as the swordsman could only feel and not respond in kind. Sharp canines scraped against a tendon in his neck and roughened fingertips whispered against his hairline and traced down the visible part of his spine. Zoro embarrassed himself by groaning softly when Usopp’s mouth latched onto the thick place where his shoulder joined the column of his neck and bit down. The sniper rewarded him with sucking pressure and then a few soothing laves of his tongue before he straightened, walked back around to the swordsman’s front. Eyes raked over every inch, committing the sight Zoro made to memory, and Usopp chuckled as he stepped up between parted knees and tugged lightly the open top of Zoro’s pants.
“You got every detail. All of it.” Warm air whispered across Zoro’s cheek as Usopp leaned in, full lips barely brushing against his as the sniper continued. “And it looks even better than I imagined.”
Zoro surrendered to the press of Usopp’s mouth, the gentle demand of his tongue and let himself be kissed with the sort of possessiveness he had turned on the sniper in the past. Pliant and yielding but certainly not passive, he let the other young man dominate the kiss and enjoyed every moment of it. He followed after Usopp when the other slowly drew away, only stopping when his bonds brought him up short, and the gentle laughter that followed this brought a flush to his cheeks as he ducked his head. Short kisses, mere touches of lips to his skin, were rained on his face until Zoro tilted his head back up to accept them before Usopp turned his attention to the shoulder he’d neglected earlier. Once more teeth rasped over his skin, closed with a pleasantly focused sort of pain, and Usopp made sure that Zoro would bear marks above both of his collar bones for the next few days.
Weight settled briefly on Zoro’s thighs as Usopp lowered to his knees, mouth still latched onto the swordsman’s tanned flesh and his stomach pressing against the hardness that remained captive in half-open pants. The next few minutes were blurs of sensation to Zoro, an almost overwhelming influx of touch as Usopp freely explored all that the swordsman had bared and offered up. Mouth and hands moved over the expanse of the older pirate’s chest, taking note of every mark, every sensitive spot, every action that dragged noise from Zoro’s throat. Fingers climbed up and down the ladder of his ribs, traced the hard-earned indentations of his musculature, mapped a path of ticklish spots around his navel. Lips slowly trailed along the dense scar tissue that divided his chest, tongue fading as it touched directly only to reappear with vivid immediacy along the sensitive surrounding flesh. Teeth acquainted themselves with his nipples, sparking pleasure and vividly bringing forth another of Usopp’s drawings to Zoro’s mind. It was a powerful combination and, willing captive that he was, Zoro felt more free than usual to give voice to his enjoyment.
Every tiny groan or longer moan or grudging whimper that escaped the swordsman’ control was rewarded. Zoro could feel Usopp smile against his skin each time, the vibrations as he hummed his own pleasure, the kisses and nibbles and strokes of his hands. Give and take, that’s what it was about, Zoro decided, and let himself grow louder as Usopp progressed slowly, in scattershot fashion, inexorably downward. Finally his nose nudged against the top of Zoro’s waistband, chin brushing over the swordsman’s constrained excitement and making him jerk forward at the touch. Usopp chuckled at that, breath hot as it stirred through the darker green fuzz that marched south from Zoro’s belly button to disappear beneath his pants, and hooked his fingers beneath the fabric. “Lift up, will you?”
It was awkward and kind of hard, tied as he was, but Zoro braced his toes against the floor and raised his ass off the seat as Usopp shimmied his pants lower. The air was bracing on his bare skin, felt too good for Zoro to summon any embarrassment as his freed erection slapped against his stomach. Usopp made a hungry sort of sound as he finished pulling the pants down to bunch above Zoro’s knees. It was a good noise, pleased, and Zoro opened his mouth to say something but promptly forgot his words as heat closed around his cock and transported him to a completely new plateau of sensation. Some garbled sort of curse-Usopp’s name-cry of pleasure erupted from him and he tugged hard against bonds he momentarily forgot, wanting to touch the sniper, to ground himself.
Everything dwindled around him, his world narrowing to his cock and Usopp’s mouth. It was…good, better than he could have imagined. Back in East Blue he’d had offers, usually from the coarse sort of people who’d expect payment afterward but also from a few gratefully rescued citizens. He’d always turned them down, mind over body and all that, and now, receiving from someone he cared deeply about, he was still glad but…really…it was something he’d definitely been missing. The sniper’s nose nudged him as Usopp took more in, somehow all the more endearing for the way the younger pirate snorted in exasperation and twisted around for a better angle. Zoro didn’t care, didn’t give a damn about what else touched him or even who might obnoxiously burst in despite the warnings and the locks, just as long as that wet heat didn’t leave his cock. Shocks of pleasure skittered up his spine every time Usopp hollowed his cheeks or swirled his tongue and the addition of a warm palm gently cradling his balls had Zoro panting the sniper’s name in a tone he barely recognized as his own. Pressure grew, mounting and causing the swordsman to clench his fists, grit his teeth, and it was only right as he almost couldn’t bear anymore that he suddenly wanted more, something else.
“Usopp.” The sniper’s name was ground out and Zoro bit his lip as his cock threatened to mutiny in spite of his best efforts. “Wait. Stop.”
The loss of Usopp’s mouth was unpleasant as cool air felt even colder against his damp cock. He could sense the sniper’s upturned gaze, the expectant silence, and Zoro fought for control and breath. “I…you…you too, okay?”
There was a pause and then an equally breathless “okay” before Usopp’s hands settled again on his thighs as the sniper got to his feet. Rustles and the unmistakable sound of Usopp’s overall straps hitting the ground reached Zoro’s ears and then lean legs straddled his lap. Usopp’s weight was comforting in his lap, just the right amount of pressure, and then the sniper inched forward. His cock felt like a burning brand as it brushed against Zoro’s, silky skin not providing nearly enough friction, and Zoro gave out a rather embarrassingly pitiful sound of desperation.
“Let me see, too. Please.”
It wasn’t begging, or so he told himself, but he needed to see Usopp. Had to. Hands reached up and eased the bandanna off of his eyes, dropped it forgotten onto the floor and Zoro squinted in the sudden light. Dark curls framed the sniper’s face; draped over the navy cotton of Usopp’s shirt, and the swordsman realized just what had finished the job of immobilizing his hands. A flush glowed on olive skin and the younger man’s mouth was wet and slightly swollen. It demanded to be kissed and Zoro leaned forward, just able to brush his lips over Usopp’s. The sniper whimpered at whatever he saw in the Zoro’s eyes, scooted even closer. He draped an arm over the swordsman’s shoulder, reached down between them with his other hand. Clever fingers brought their erections together, flesh to flesh, and began to stroke. It was rougher than Usopp’s mouth but just as good, and Zoro chanced a glance downward and growled at the sight they made. That made Usopp jerk and press even closer, hand speeding up. Zoro returned his attention to the sniper’s face, not wanting to miss a single nuance of expression even though his own eyes wanted to slip closed in pleasure.
Usopp returned his gaze, brown eyes dazed even though his brows were knit in determination. His lips were parted slightly as he panted for breath and he too seemed to want to watch everything that happened as it passed over Zoro’s face. Hand and cock worked on Zoro, the edge that had been so sharp before becoming even more finely honed. Control was a battle and sweat broke out along his hairline, nails digging into his palms as he struggled to wait. Finally, captivated by the way the corner of Usopp’s mouth twitched with every pass of his palm, Zoro’s body was finished with waiting. He came in a single long shudder, eyes closing as his head fell back and he strained against his bonds, against Usopp. Zoro heard Usopp let out a whining sort of moan, managed to crack open one eye in time to see the younger pirate copy his motions, felt the wet heat that spattered his stomach and mingled with his ever-so-slightly earlier release.
Quiet gasps for breath filled the room and Usopp eased out of his stiffened posture, fell forward to rest his forehead against Zoro’s shoulder although he was careful to keep his front away from the mess on the swordsman. “Well,” he said finally, voice a touch giddy and still a bit breathless.
“Yeah,” Zoro replied, bone-deep satisfaction settling over him.
They rested that way for a few minutes longer and then Usopp got up, blushing a little as Zoro openly ogled his half-nude state. It took several tries, his fingers fumbling with nerves and happiness, to free Zoro’s hands. The swordsman stretched, rolling his shoulders and grunting in pleased surprise as the bite marks throbbed at the motion. He and Usopp untied his ankles and then Zoro stood, stepping out of his pants rather than pulling them back up. That made Usopp raise an eyebrow and Zoro just shrugged and picked up his bandanna, a small frown gracing his features as he wiped up the mess on his stomach. The best course of action would have been to return Nami’s stolen chair and hopped in the shower but sleep was calling. Zoro blew out the lantern and caught Usopp’s hand in the near darkness, towing him over to the couch. It was cramped but he managed to settle the sniper on top of himself and got a blanket over them both. Usopp, surprisingly, didn’t bother to protest and snuggled down against the swordsman, breathing evening out and slowing. Zoro closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around the skinny pirate. That had gone so much better than he could have dreamed and he fell asleep to pleasant thoughts of trying out some of the ideas Usopp’s other hidden drawings had inspired.
