The (overdue) last chapter. Enjoy. Happy whatever-day.

Thanks, as always, to my beloved beta-reader, APCCP Mattemo, who's suffering was delayed, but, because of you guys, not forgotten.

**PLEASE READ**

I still don't know what "M" is for writing. From my point of view, unless it's an explicit porn or fetish book, its not "X." (Or NC-17 or AO, or whatever.) There is no "rating" system for publishing here in the US, really: I remember when I picked up my first "Silhouette Desire" romance at the library. "Do they know what's in here?" I wondered, feeling guilty as I continued reading. "It's on the normal shelves!" (Next to Regency romances, where it gets racy when people hold hands.)

What this means to you: This is "M," in that I think only people who are mature enough to handle sex in fiction ought to read it. I have cut out the parts I felt were definitely too much, however, if you have a clear grasp on the rating system, and think something violates it, please let me know so I can fix (cut) it. (A suggestion of where the pruning needs to take place would be appreciated, in that case. Since I obviously don't know.)

Much less important note: I don't like euphemisms. In sex, that is. If I never read about another "hardness" again, it will have been too soon. Or "moist folds." -shudder- I can understand penis and vagina may be a bit clinical, but damn I hate so many of the so-called alternatives. Here, however, I'm going to try and use terms I feel are evocative of the two POVs. So.

Free-fall | Landfall

The kiss was... To be honest, it was fairly disappointing. Nothing like her fanta- expectations. Not that Tashigi had expectations, either, of course. The kiss, though. His lips were still against her own, cold and wet with the rain. She rather imagined kissing the corpse of a drowned man would be similar.

Tashigi waited a couple of seconds, but still, he did nothing: this was getting her nowhere. She relaxed her arm, dropping her hand the last small space to his chest. (At least that felt like she'd assumed, strong and hard beneath her palm.) Fisting her hand in the fabric of his shirt, she used the extra leverage to pull him closer, tilting her head to the side to deepen the kiss. Maybe he didn't like, well, tongue dueling, but there was no reason it had to be this... boring.

His chest jerked beneath her hand as she nibbled lightly on his lower lip, and she pulled back, trying to see his face; futile, silhouetted against the fire as he was. She was sure she'd done exactly the wrong thing. Again. But then he seemed to settle, angling his head and opening his own mouth, and the second kiss was much better. The fifth kiss was highly satisfactory, and she supposed he'd just needed some time to really accept his decision. After all, they had just been waving swords at each other, and…

Swords. "Shigure!" she yelped, breaking the kiss, releasing the pira... man in front of her so abruptly he half stumbled. Ducking under his arm, still outstretched on his own katana, Tashigi felt around on the ground. It had to be around here somewhere — after all, he'd knocked it pretty much straight out of her hands.

She only half noticed when he pulled his own sword from the tree, and stalked toward the fire. More importantly, she looked for a tell-tale gleam, nearly slicing her palm open as she finally found it. Thankfully the sudden rain had not been hard enough to create mud of the leaf-mould in so short a time. Sighing in relief, she pulled the well-oiled cloth from her pocket and ran it along the sword. For all her ineptitude at stopping Roronoa's blows, she had at least managed to turn the strikes correctly, "shaving the blade" and had avoided any real damage to the edge. There almost had to be something out there that was watching out for her. Sometimes. The rest of the time, she was fairly certain, she was the punchline of a celestial joke. "Did you hear the one about the clumsy, near-sighted woman who wanted to fight for justice?"

The steps behind her gave her warning, and she turned to see Roronoa return, holding Shigure's sheath before him, his own katana once more at his waist. Half-smiling, she slid the blade home and walked the few steps to her bed-nest, placing the precious sword far on the other side of the blankets. Her back to the world, metaphorically, she took a deep breath — centering.

This was no longer a spur of a moment action to deny or dismiss, later. The pause had created a situation; a decision, that she had to make her own, of her own cognizance.

But it wasn't as if she hadn't made a choice or two before this that might lead to regret and sorrow. And, to be honest, she told the voice screaming denial within her — very honestly, she wanted this, had wanted this for quite some time.

Releasing her breath, Tashigi turned, still under the edge of her lean-to, and held out her hand.

His swords, Zoro realized. She was waiting for his swords. And certainly, whatever-it-was that was developing between them, (and he'd a pretty damn good idea from this-and-that story — one couldn't avoid them), it didn't need weapons. But still, to let them go...

On the other hand, if he ran away now, somehow it seemed like he lost. Hadn't he already chosen not to run? And that kiss-thing, with the tongue — it had seemed halfway to a duel. And if so, he'd been losing at that, too. Although experience probably told.

Abruptly, he realized he didn't want to think about any previous experience she might have.

And he was delaying, ridiculously. What, was he scared of the unknown?

Resolutely, he pulled two of the scabbards from his waist, and, ignoring her outstretched hand, knelt beside the marine to place his swords under the shelter. He might let them out of his hands, but he wasn't quite ready to put them in someone else's.

Awkwardly adding Wadou Ichimonji to the pile of katana beyond the blankets, Zoro turned back around, crossing his ankles, and sat, somewhat heavily, next to the mar... Tashigi.

There was just enough room under the front of the tarp to sit without being in the rain or dripping too badly on the blankets, which was deftly done, he reasoned. And he was avoiding thinking about her again. While she was right there. Which was about as absurd as Chopper hiding his hooves behind a wall.

He shifted to look at her just as she leaned forward, rising on her knees, put one hand on his leg, the other back on his chest; and then they were doing the kissing thing again. Which was nice, because then he just concentrated on that.

He really thought he was getting the hang of it, perhaps even winning, when she suddenly stopped. He thought of protesting as he caught his breath, but no — she was just taking her glasses off, leaning over to toss them on the swords. Zoro's world seemed reduced to the hand on his thigh supporting her weight as she stretched over the blankets. Not that he couldn't easily hold ten — or twenty, or fifty — times the weight of a tall woman, but her hand seemed to be burning, the flesh underneath it fevered.

As Tashigi moved back she unfolded her far leg, stretching it beside him. It wasn't as if she was moving too quickly, or impossible to read, but as she half settled on his lap, Zoro stopped breathing for a moment.

Two conflicting thoughts seemed to be fighting in his brain. The first, trained since he was a boy, was that she was well inside his threat range, too close to fend with a blade. The second, quite newer, thought, was that this was really nice; becoming even closer was probably called for.

The latter idea abruptly took precedence as she leaned back away from him to move her other leg. He shifted a hand to the back of her clammy jacket, supporting her. It surprised him how small she felt under the denim. He could span nearly her entire back with his hand — how could she get any strength out of such a tiny core? "Maybe it was true, that male swordsmen had an advantage…"

She seemed to approve, smiling down at him from her new, elevated position before moving to kiss him again. Her arms were actually quite comfortable around his shoulders and back; and the annoyance of the metal button rubbing his collarbone was not enough to outweigh the fact that it was doing so because the very tits he'd been so distracted by earlier were right below his chin.

Not that they were any less distracting now. In fact, his short-pants were beginning to bind, something he'd not had to worry about for some years — since he'd learned more of his body, and how to channel seemingly useless impulses. He'd be embarrassed about the lack of control, now, except for the fact that he understood that to be the point of the exercise.

And, he'd have to concentrate to block the feelings anyhow. Which he was thinking would be a real shame. There were much more compelling things to concentrate on.

It was like drowning in her sensory input. Nicely drowning. Everything was hypersensitive, even her mind, racing non-stop. Tashigi was comparing her fantasies to reality, even as she experienced it. His — Roronoa's — hair, the thickness, how coarse it was: these were nothing like how she'd imagined. His skin was fine and smooth, although marred with many minuscule scars. She wondered idly if he were one of those men who never needed to shave.

He smelled mostly of rain, like she must, but there was this underlying... musk? Not just man-stink — there was plenty of that in the general quarters on the ship. Something kind of spicy. Maybe he wore cologne. Maybe she needed to find out what it was and spray it on her pillow.

Maybe she'd hit her head harder than she'd thought, earlier.

Tashigi shivered as the hand on her back crept under her jacket. The temperature difference between the chilled skin of her back and his calloused fingers was another intoxicant to add to her memory-list. A list she was not going to admit to having. Ever.

In the main part, though, she was trying to figure out how she could surreptitiously do the same to him. Unfortunately, he was not wearing only a jacket. His stupid shirt was was probably tucked into his stupid trousers, and the whole then covered with that stupid haramaki. She could rip the shirt apart quite easily, testing the flex of the fabric under her hands — but she doubted Roronoa'd thank her for that.

Nibbling her way along his jawline, Tashigi was diverted from her goal by the phenomenal discovery of his sensitive neck. When she gently kissed the delicate skin below his ear, he gasped, his left hand joining the right on her back as he pulled her closer. Then there was nothing for it than to spend some moments exploring his responsiveness. One of his hands was massaging her lower back, while the other was a solid presence at her shoulder, encouraging her work as she teased delicious gasps and caught breaths from him.

"I could do this all night." However, there was more she wanted to do, just now. While she had the opportunity. Somewhat wistfully, she gave over her experiments for her original objective.

"Take off your shirt?"

He shivered underneath her, and Tashigi wasn't sure if it was because she was whispering in his ear, or the content. She'd meant it to a command, not a question. This was probably about as self-conscious as she'd ever been, magnitudes more than that thing back then — the unsatisfying, half-clothed fumbling and uncomfortable aftermath. She hoped to hell the unsteady light of the fire, hissing in the irregular drops falling from the thick foliage over the camp, was hiding the blush she felt heating her face.

Roronoa dropped his hand from her shoulder, but didn't say anything. She wasn't sure what he thought of her, right then. She was fairly sure she didn't want to know. And she wasn't going to think about it either. Really. She leaned back against his hand, wanting to see his face, though. Despite her intentions.

Not that it enlightened her, any. Tashigi couldn't begin to decipher what that expression meant. Maybe her forwardness was making him reconsider. "He'd better not."

It couldn't be that he wasn't interested, she was certain. She was straddling his lap, after all. She could tell he was here, as into this as she was. If he called it off now, she'd, she'd...

Well, she'd be awfully upset. For both their sakes. Maybe he just needed some motivation. She moved to start unbuttoning her jacket, then paused. Wasn't that kind of... coercive? Pressuring? Or something?

"Roronoa? Do, um —" Tashigi could not believe she was actually asking this. "Do you want to stop... this?" What if he said "yes?"

The question seemed to get him moving, though. He grabbed the haramaki and shirt on one side and lifted the whole off, over his head. As he hadn't removed the hand from her back except to pull the sleeve off, and thus accomplished the maneuver at close quarters and without smacking her with his elbow in the process, it was fairly impressive. And now she had unimpeded access to his chest and back. "Fairly impressive, indeed."

He shook his arm, seeming annoyed at the now wadded-together clothes. Like it was going to just slip over those biceps normally. Much less over the bandages and bandana. Tashigi worked the lot off his arm without disturbing the wound (too much), then, looking around, settled for tossing the lot at the foot of her blanket-nest. She'd deal with them later.

Twisting back, she met his eyes just as he opened his mouth.

"Zoro." He smiled, just a little. It wasn't a smirk, or a stoic glare. It was devastating. Tashigi seriously considered melting, right there. "My name is Zoro."

Which was a good point, all... things... considered. "Okay. Zoro." Smiling as well, to herself, she reached for her buttons again, only to hesitate once more as he continued.

"And I don't want to stop, I just wasn't sure. What to do." He shrugged, his muscles shifting, smooth and distracting, under his scarred skin. "I've never done this before."

Tashigi stuttered at him, only half-words, sounds. He hadn't expected her to be that surprised. Surely there were a lot of people in the world who had something better to do with their time than learning how to do sex stuff.

And anyway, he wouldn't've said anything, except he sure-as-hell didn't want to get it wrong.

He put his free hand over her mouth to stop her pointless noise. (Which was kind of nice. Her lips had been soft — if a little chapped — earlier, and they were just as pleasant against his palm.) "Is that a problem?"

She quickly shook her head, under his hand. Which was a relief. Because he hadn't really thought that one through — about what to do if it was a problem. And he really didn't want to stop now.

He moved his hand. "Good. That's... good. Um." Here was a question: how could he say: "go back to what you were doing with those buttons," without sounding like a complete ass?

Then he stopped worrying about it, because her hands on his bare chest were pretty distracting. And then she curled down, her (tiny) waist arching out under his hand, and her lips on his shoulder were a wholly different kind distracting.

"Sorry," she murmured into his skin. Not that he knew why. But if this is how she was going to apologize, then he wasn't asking, either.

He bit off a groan when she stopped, but obviously, it was because she'd read his mind. Her hands fairly flew down the jacket, each stop exposing more skin. Creamy skin, like the crest of a wave. It was hypnotizing.

Then she suddenly leaned against him to pull her arms out of the sleeves, and he was fairly certain his heart was going to beat it's way out through his rib cage. Her breasts were firm and soft at the same time, utterly unlike anything on his body. And they were naked and rubbing on him as she struggled out of the damp denim.

This time he couldn't stop the groan as he pulled her against him, grabbing the jacket and yanking. Belatedly he realized that it had to have chafed her arm, but she offered no protest as she finally pulled that arm free (and the sleeve inside out on the jacket), then, unfettered, the other arm.

Tashigi turned and leaned, tossing the jacket at his shirt, then she was kissing him again — which had stayed very nice, and all, but he could no longer do it justice. The level of distraction her bare tits against his chest commanded from him was absolute; his trousers were causing actively painful constriction, and he wasn't sure if it was better when she was moving or still.

And he wanted to touch them. Except, if he couldn't figure out how to say the button thing, how was he going to say that? It was usually the sort of thing that got you smacked! Though he was reasonably certain this situation was an exception.

Still.

She pulled away, looking at him quizzically. He couldn't blame her, with the poor job he was doing of it.

"I, uh..." Weak! If he were going to be this inept about it... Zoro cleared his throat. "Can I touch you?" His voice didn't waver, and he wasn't blushing. Enough to be seen by the poor light, anyway.

Tashigi was blushing enough for both of them, though. Which was kind of... cute. She swallowed audibly, and nodded, and he realized that he was glad she was nervous. Relieved that she has not reacting as if this was a matter-of-fact occurrence. Everyday. Mundane. And why was he thinking so much about this when she'd given that permission?

Somewhat hesitantly he cupped one in his hand. Her flesh was warm where it'd been leaning against him, cold elsewhere. She shivered as he stroked his hand along the side and he wasn't sure if it was him or the temperature difference.

There was a weight — a heft, that he'd not expected. That is, of course they'd have weight, they weren't full of air, but he hadn't considered something so substantial. The one in his hand had to weigh a good one-and-a-half, maybe two kilos, by itself. (Four kilos of extra — he couldn't bring himself to think "useless" — weight to balance. At this rate he was going to owe a concession on the male advantage, for sure.)

Moving his hand along, he could feel the pectorals tensed on the sides and underneath, her chest moving with her shallow breaths. The darker nipple, already jutting, hardened further as he brushed his thumb over it, and she gasped. This time, he was certain it was him. He grinned, bringing his other hand up to mirror his actions, more confidently. A different dual-wield than normal, perhaps, but nothing beyond his capabilities, once he'd the trick of it. After a few moments of just appreciating the sight, of her quickened breath and sighs, he moved his head to the juncture of her neck and shoulder. He'd liked it quite enough, after all.

It turned out her neck seemed not as sensitive as his, but she all but panted, turning her head to give him better access, as he nibbled her earlobe. He lingered, trying this and that caress or spot, and she answered to his hands and mouth like a fine blade. Which was fairly empowering, to say the least.

Then she shifted in his lap, and his breath hitched in his throat as he stopped his hands from clenching reflexively on her breasts. She was rubbing against him through the layers of cloth between them, and it was wonderfully painful. Or painfully wonderful. Did she even know how that—

Tashigi smiled at him, a wicked grin as he leaned back to look at her face, and rocked against him again. Slowly. She knew.

The third time, he dropped both his hands to her hips involuntarily. Zoro wasn't sure if he was going to encourage her or stop her, and he was breathing through his mouth, short and harsh. It was taking all his willpower not to, to... to throw her to the ground and figure it out from there.

She stopped with her entire upper body molded to his, pushing against him. Well, it wasn't like she was going to knock him down or anything. And then she arched her back, cool fingers coming between them, dancing over his abdomen. She leaned forward again, her hand trapped between them, and whispered in his ear again: "Pants?"

Zoro fell over.

Well. That'd worked. She had thought of a few advantages since he'd said he was... that he hadn't... Anyway. She needed all the advantages she could get, since it seemed his mere existence at these close quarters was doing to her self-discipline what cannons did to glass.

She threw her weight to the side, pulling them both over onto the blankets. Her leg was briefly under his thigh (somewhat painfully, knees were not made for lateral compression) before she pushed off, turning Zoro onto his back.

The fact she was now astride Roronoa Zoro, wanted pirate, expert swordsman, as he lay stunned beneath her was... incredible. She let her eyes roam his chest, (what she could see of it, internally cursing the low light,) then switched to her hands, savoring every muscle twitch and caught breath. Puerile curiosity led her to run her hand along the great scar starting at his collarbone, which was probably as close as she was ever going to get to the black sword Yoru. Additionally, it ran his entire torso to his waist, her current target, mixing business with pleasure as it were. Or pleasure with pleasure. Whatever.

She cautiously glanced down, but was unable to see much much through her own shadow, nearsighted, no night vision... She shook off the dark thoughts. "Stay in now, here!" Although... she could see a tiny "v" of flesh, looking lighter by contrast with the dark cloth- there was no top button. She felt close to hyperventilating, as she ran her hands over his hips and inward, toward her goal. He wasn't stopping her, his arms still, so she dared a glance as his face.

His eyes seemed to be closed, which was just as well, because the temptation to watch him instead of her fingers would be hard to fight. And she really wanted to pay attention to her fingers. Tashigi hitched herself a bit further down on Zoro's legs, her boot knocking into his leg, and reached for that wonderful gap. "Wait a minute…"

"Dammit all to hell and back!"

Zoro was looking at her now, as she rolled off of him, but she ignored him, struggling with her laces. "Stupid boots. Whoever thought shoes you can't get out of were a good idea for a uniform on the ocean anyway?" She glared resentfully at the offending footwear, finally yanking it off with enough force to make her ankle twinge.

She didn't notice at first, and then she couldn't believe it. He was laughing! Tashigi switched her glare to him, resentfully — and then, looking at his delightfully open face, his low chuckle that seemed to frisson directly through her spine (on it's way to destinations south), she gave up. It was, actually, pretty funny, even if the mood had been lost overboard. Or maybe especially.

He took the boot she'd about to toss out into the rainy dark out of her unresisting hand and stretched over her to where the rest of the clothes were piled. He was close enough to her that she could see the muscles stretch easily in his back and side; she leaned back, herself, because otherwise she was going to pounce on him. Which wouldn't work, because she still didn't have her other boot off. Much less his.

He slanted an unreadable look at her as he rolled back, which was quite unfairly sexy. "No-one with lashes that short should be able to pull that look off." Then she realized she was pouting. Embarrassed, she looked away, ducking her head to work on that other shoe. She could see him sit forward out of the corner of her eye, grabbing one of his boots and tugging it off, then the other.

Finishing up with her own boot, not quite as violently as the first, she held out her hand, then started when his fingers brushed against hers as handed them off. Which was so stupid, she wailed to herself, setting the three boots with the other one. She'd been touching a lot more than his hand a moment ago, and now she was so self-aware and embarrassed, and—

Then he grabbed her hips and all but lifted her into his lap, his lips brushing aside her short hair to mouth her ear. She shivered and sighed, leaning back against him — his chest was hot on her cool back. It seemed she could feel everything, magnified. She would even swear she could feel the temperature difference in the mass of scar tissue under her left shoulder.

It was probably unfair, she thought dreamily, that someone who was a — a virgin — could catch on this fast, but she wasn't going to complain. Zoro pulled on her hips, snugging her between his barely bent legs, and she blushed again, a little, to feel his... him against her lower back. Then his hands wandered up her abdomen to her breasts, and she stopped thinking altogether.

Someone was panting, throatily, and she realized it was own voice. But it didn't really seem to matter. What mattered was that she wanted out of these cold, damp jeans. Now. She tried not to disturb his busy hands as she manipulated the buttons at the fly, growling as the wet fabric and her seated position impeded her.

Frustrated, she bucked her hips upward, interrupting his caresses. Supporting herself with her with only her bent legs and her head on his shoulder, neck corded with the strain of the awkward position, she quickly shucked both denim and sensible cotton underwear down her hips, shimmying a bit from side to side to ease the damp fabric's slide.

Collapsing back to the blankets between his thighs she made short work of the rest, yanking them off in a wad and tossing them aside. But he was very still now, hands resting on his legs. And she hoped it was just shyness, or hesitation, and she hadn't stupidly ruined it all.

But she hadn't ruined it so far, right? Tashigi was confident (mostly confident) that she could make this work. He had to be just — nervous, that's all. Pants were coming off. It just had to happen. Resolute, she quickly got to her knees and turned back towards him.

"So, um... Pants?"

Zoro abruptly shifted his gaze to her face — she could tell because she was so close to his eyes, again. Which made her realize he hadn't been looking at her a moment before. Which, in turn, made her aware she was naked, on her hands and knees, between his legs. Her (inconvenient, oversized) breasts swaying between her arms, her butt in the air... She started blushing, abruptly, aware she must look like a wanton, a cheap dockside—

He smiled again, and her heart felt likely to crash straight out through her sternum. Then he lifted his hands to the fastener of his pants. He folding his leg up past her as she sat back on her heels to give him room, and quickly shucked both pants and underwear off his flat hips, tossing them toward the messy pile at the end of the lean-to.

He was... magnificent. Even at this distance she could see the muscles flexing in his thighs — now one long, muscled picture from shoulder to ankle. "I'd really like to see his ass," she grinned — just a little — to herself, her previous self editing silenced. Blushing and self consciousness put aside for the more important task of memorizing every detail she could make out.

Not that she hadn't seen men, even well built men, nude before — surprise inspections had their own perils in the regard, (the men scrambling up to stand beside their bunks, some few naked, one sporting rather impressive "morning wood" that thankfully flagged quickly as the command party started down the row...)

But yes, this was different. This was the subject of a hundred private fantasies, each racier than the last. And he was exactly like she'd imagined. Well, from what she could see. He probably wouldn't appreciate her calling a break to throw more wood on the fire and put her glasses back on.

Well. That was a gratifying look. Zoro smiled, just a bit, and stretched himself out along the blankets — if she was going to stare like that, he could make it a nice image. It was a bit like being sized up for a fight, and a bit like being a sword on display. It seemed like he should disdain the attention, like he did when he caught the stares from women on the streets; in this case, though, it seemed… nice. His due.

He returned the favor as best he could, although the light was poor, and she was between him and the fire. It was good, though. Very good. She had rocked back on her heels, surveying him, and seemed entirely unselfconscious, her posture relaxed, shoulders loose and easy.

He'd not realized how much an alert, defensive posture had changed the way he looked at her. Her body language had always said "warrior" — a possible ally, or foe, or just ships passing in the night — still another swordsman. Here, instead of that swordsman, was a woman. Smooth curves, intriguing shadows — it wasn't something he really appreciated, usually, but he could see how this might move some men to poetry, or song. Or crude doggerel.

Zoro's breath caught, a little, in his throat as she reached out toward him, feathering touches along his calf. He fought the urge to squirm as her fingers brushed the inside of his knee — he'd always been a little ticklish, there. She scooted forward, sitting parallel to his legs, her face in profile looking almost stern as she trailed her fingers along his inner thigh. Zoro's breath caught involuntarily and his dick twitched as her hand hovered for a bare second... Then she wrapped her hand around him and started moving.

His held breath left him with a groan and he dropped his head back against the blankets, let his eyes close. He'd not even touched himself for, probably, about a year; he'd controlled the impulse whenever it came upon him, as he'd found it unproductive and honestly, not that satisfying. This, though — her hand was cool and still slightly wet from the rain, nearly as rough and callused from the sword and the sea as Zoro's — but it was certainly not his hand pumping him; that seemed to make a world of difference.

He was panting a little, open mouthed, in time with her strokes. Tashigi's grip was a bit soft — but since she hadn't spat in her hand for slick, like he'd been in the habit of doing, back when he'd rubbed off regularly — he supposed that was better. She was just moving her hand on his cock, nothing fancy, no tricks, but he was already nearly unbearably close. He was pretty sure, though, that they were supposed to be a bit more involved, so he somehow leveraged his willpower (which had apparently gone missing when this'd started) to open his eyes and tell her to stop.

That was his undoing, though. She had that look again, looking at him, at her hand on his dick — like he was precious — like what she was doing was important. Like he was so important. He came apart under those eyes, gasping for breath, the feeling nearly incomparable to jerking it. Zoro laid his head back down and closed his eyes — her gaze was almost too much, now, like her now slick and feather-light touches on his slowly softening dick.

Tashigi knew — well, she'd been told, anyway — that men were sensitive after climax. Plus the, er, product of the climax itself was rapidly cooling in the night air, from warm and slick toward cold and slimy. Still though, she found it hard to remove her hand, although she'd lightened her grip to a mere touch.

It was just so amazing, what she'd wrought. Either because it was the subject of several messy fantasies; because it was famed and powerful Roronoa Zoro — most likely a combination of the two — it's not like they weren't intertwined madly in her mind...

For whatever reason, although she'd done this before, a few times, this felt so different. Amazing and empowering -see what she'd done! What power she wielded over such a dangerous and handsome creature! She had to stifle a giggle as he twitched again under her delicate ministrations, muscles flexing in his abdomen and thighs.

His hand catching hers surprised it out of teasing him. She'd been so caught up she'd not even seen him move. Looking up, he was watching her with an almost cautious look.

"Just... Give me a minute."

He moved her hand to the side firmly, then let go. She caught herself before she started pouting — not sure if it was because he'd stopped her, or because he released her hand. Although, really — she was a bit of a mess. So was his belly, come to think of it — she could see it reflecting in the fire.

Considering, Tashigi ducked down to where their carelessly thrown clothes covered the tarp flap over her small wood pile. Grabbing a large log, she ducked out naked into the drizzle; she felt so heated the cold drops felt refreshing instead of chilling.

Squinting blearily, she snatched up the now damp remains of the (thankfully light colored against dark wood) blanket Zoro'd cut up for bandages from the log and used it to grab the iron kettle from the hanger; she set it to the side of the pit instead, where it'd stay fairly warm. She left the mutton haunch where it was, hanging to the side — it couldn't become any more tasteless in the rain. Dinner was definitely delayed. Finally, she set the log into the fire carefully, watching to see that it caught.

Rising, she somehow stumbled over to the stream without falling in, though she did stub her toes. The rain was definitely harder out from under the thick canopy, but it seemed to be slacking off — a typical spring cloudburst. Finally starting to to feel a little cool, though, she quickly rinsed her hand and the ex-blanket-come-oversized-washrag. Wringing it out, returning to the camp was easier with the fire beckoning, and she did herself no harm, for once, before ducking back under the tarp.

Zoro's eyes were slitted, barely gleaming in the renewed light — he was watching, but had not moved, still laid out long and delicious on her blankets. Smiling, she held up the cloth then wiped down at his smeary stomach.

"Shit! That's cold!" He curled up defensively and grabbed her wrist, pulling the rag away from him.

Tashigi couldn't stop the laugh, this time. "Oh, man up, crybaby. It's not much colder than this stuff getting nasty, here."

He relaxed and loosened his hold on her wrist, so she moved to continue. But instead of letting go entirely, he slid his hand up her forearm as she moved. "You're pretty cold, too."

And abruptly she was, almost shivering at the contrast between his hand, so hot, on her cool skin. Gently but persistently he pulled on her captured arm, pulling her down as he tilted his head. They were kissing again and it was so good, now, so nice. He pulled her so she was half kneeling, half laying on his chest; she would be uncomfortably folded, except for the fact that she was laying against his chest, kissing him.

The cloth she'd been using was uncomfortable and cold crushed between them, and she wadded it one handed and chucked it. She'd meant to hit the clothes pile, but from Zoro's muffled chuckle against her lips, she expected she'd got his feet, instead. Usually that'd embarrass her, but she had more important issues literally at hand.

Spreading her fingers she set about mapping his chest by feel, the half she wasn't laying on. His breath caught as she dragged her hand over his hard pectoral, the nipple pebbling. He nearly gasped as she felt along the edges of his great scar, gently.

"You-" Zoro'd apparently had enough, and sitting up, he grabbed her hips and pulled her fully across him before lying back down. She narrowly missed racking him as she struggled to unfold her legs, and she could feel his reawakened interest against her hip. His hands were firm as he moved them along her sides, her back, her butt — his lips were similarly moving, restless, across her chin and neck. Tashigi could feel herself, overheated and wet in her most intimate area, and knew Zoro could probably feel it too, against the thigh he'd hiked up between her legs.

This was it — she was going to have sex with Roronoa Zoro. For real, not in a half-dream that dissolved like mist in the morning sun. She should feel scared, or embarrassed, a part of her reminded; those feelings were distant, though. She felt like she had under the tree, earlier. Totally in her body and the moment — to the exclusion of everything else, almost like meditating. She was calm, almost detached — though only from her doubt and fear.

Here, she was sure. Here, she was capable. Here, she simply was.

Tashigi shifted against his chest, pushing herself up and back into a crouch, then pulling her leg out from between his to straddle his thighs. Her hands rested lightly on his abs, and he knew, kinda, where this was going. She had some sort of... Hole, there. In her crotch. He had a rod, she had a hole, insert one into the other. It couldn't be that hard, right?

He was nervous, though, all of a sudden, his hands tightening where they'd fallen to her knees. Zoro didn't usually get nervous. He liked to think of himself as a man who decided a course of action and followed through with it, to hell with the consequences.

Here he was, though, with something he could almost characterize as performance anxiety. He rather desperately wanted to do to right. And his mind was echoing with half heard phrases given new importance.

Every barroom insult: "Two pump chump!"

Or: "She came to me 'cause you couldn't satisfy her!"

Every tale of fumbling virgins: "Don't take it to heart, boy. I'm sure you'll do better next time. If there ever is one."

He realized abruptly that his grip on Tashigi was probably bruising, now; she was looking at him, an unreadable, inscrutable expression on her face. The fire flickered, and he really did not want her to ask if he wanted to do this. Again. He needed, as she'd said, to "man up."

Shaking his head, Zoro mustered a smile. It didn't even feel false.

"I'm ready," he said, to cut off any more embarrassing questions, like earlier.

She smiled back and he felt so much better. Relaxed, a little, even. "Really, she's the one who is going to be performing, here, apparently. I can just take notes. For next time."

Which was a ridiculous thought, but for some reason it worked, and he wasn't really nervous, anymore. Excited, expectant, rock hard like he hasn't blown his load ten minutes ago; not nervous.

Tashigi'd shifted up after he gave her the nod, still smiling, a soft, mysterious smile, now. She straddled his hips and rose up on her knees; there was a hand on his chest for balance as she leaned forward and reached back for his dick with her other hand. And damn, her hand still felt so nice and she was aligning them and she sank down and-

"Fuck!" Zoro curled forward again, his hips pistoning upwards instead of flinching away, this time. He crushed Tashigi to his chest, wrapping his arms securely around her so she couldn't escape if she wanted to. Suddenly he was immensely glad she'd jacked him, earlier; the way this was, he'd never have even made two pumps — he'd have come right then, when she put him inside her.

There was nothing in his experience he could compare this feeling to. It was so hot, and slick, and the pressure — not even with two hands could you get this kind of all over feeling — he knew now why "tight" was such a compliment. It was so, so good, on a level he'd never really thought of in conjunction with his cock. Almost like when Zoro was fighting and his muscles were burning and he smiled and danced with death...

He realized Tashigi was kissing the side of his neck — it was really nice, and he concentrated on that, enjoying the feel of her lips on his vulnerable jugular. It distracted him in a good way, pulling him back from the edge he already felt to close to, even though he'd just... He could feel her smile against him as he slowly released her from the bear-hug he'd caught her up in.

"Good?"

He would roll his eyes at the inane question, but he was pretty sure the sarcasm would be lost in the gloom. He settled, instead, for bringing a hand up to grab her hair, pulling it back enough to attack her sensitive ear.

"Nggh!" He gasped, so well-spoken.

She'd responded to that by flexing. He'd felt the associated muscles move — along her inner thigh and abdomen where they pressed against him — but she had flexed inside, somehow. He felt his reaction entirely justified as she rhythmically tightened around him.

He could see her shit-eating grin as she reduced him to panting and grunting, but there was nothing he could do against this kind of ougi. She let up after an entirely pleasant eternity or two, and pushed against his chest. He fell prone bonelessly, trying to uncross his eyes.

"Lay back. It gets better." He doubted that, really, but he lacked any will to argue the point. Or do anything more than breath, really.

She was true to her word, though, because she started moving, and that was mind blowing. It wasn't just the physical feeling, though that was so, so excellent. He was also seeing her, watching her move over him. Abruptly he wanted to do this under the sun, in the light, able to really see the muscles flexing in her thighs, her abs. To clearly appreciate the way her tits moved with each vigorous thrust.

The expression on her face, through the dark, was one of concentration — which maybe shouldn't have been so sexy, but Zoro appreciated working. There were very few things he had in life that he had not worked hard for, earned with his sweat and blood. Watching her work, moving, impaling herself on him and enjoying it...

He was going to ask her to slow down, or even stop for a moment and let him back off a bit when she leaned forward, changing the angle and fuck-!

She was rubbing him somehow, inside and it was... He whined a little, and his hips were moving without a conscious input from him, pushing against her as she came down on him. There was a lewd slapping noise as they came together, and they were both panting harshly in the night air. Zoro was biting his lip, trying to hold on, hold on just a little bit more, he didn't want this to end, not yet...

Tashigi made a desperate noise, somewhere between sighing and crying, then she convulsed around him again — some small part of him hoped that was her coming.

Small, because the rest of him sat up and grabbed her hips, grinding her against him as deep as he could go, pulling her up and back down again and then for a third time before he exploded, surely coming harder than he ever had. Gunshots went off behind his eyes as his blood pounded through his body, and the rush was as good as battle, as good as winning…

Tashigi caught her breath, cradled again to Zoro's chest where he'd caught her up again when he'd risen. That had been... She'd never reached completion that fast. Usually, when she was trying for herself, she had to work — concentrate and chase it down, use her fingers on her "button," and even then — sometimes it just didn't come, leaving her aching and irritable. This, though...

She nuzzled a little more into his neck. It was damp with sweat, and she didn't resist the temptation to taste it. He made a muffled noise when she licked him, but otherwise didn't stir. That was fine though. She was okay, better than okay, for now. Soon she was going to need to move. She could feel "it" starting to follow gravity out of her as Zoro softened, and she'd want to clean up fairly soon, even if he didn't care. But for now everything was alright.

Her peace was soon broken by her stomach rumbling; Zoro didn't move at this, either, though it was loud enough she was sure they'd heard it on the shore. She shifted, initially embarrassed, but actually, it was pretty funny. Smiling, she pushed against him, and he slowly released her. The changed position allowed him to slip out, and his soft groan echoed her sigh.

"Well, after exercise is food, I guess."

She pushed to her knees then backed off his lap, clamping her internal muscles as firmly as possible. She wasn't going to, er, to "drip" on him if she could help it. Hurriedly she reached the end of the blankets where he'd apparently kicked off the rag, feeling around for the cold and wet. Self-consciously turning her back she wiped herself down, folded the cloth over and handed it to him.

Instead of watching to see what he did, she scrambled over to the pile of weapons to retrieve her glasses, considering the issue of clothes. She could put back on the wet clothes. She could get out some fresh clothes from her pack. She could stay naked. She was leaning toward naked, even in the rain. It set an example, after all, one Zoro might follow. And she really wished he'd stay undressed as long as possible.

As if to answer her hopes, it seemed the rain had all but stopped. Industrious — that was her — she gathered up their clothes, hanging them on the line set up for that purpose. They'd be a bit smokey, but probably mostly dry, come morning. And it was a legitimate reason to keep Zoro naked, which was a bonus.

She snuck a glance over at him while she was hanging, but he'd rolled on his side toward the swords, stretched out with an arm pillowing his head. She wouldn't complain, though — she now had an excellent view of his back and butt, very worthy of appreciation. She moved as quietly as she could back toward the tent to get her bowl and eating knife, but her caution seemed unfounded — he was apparently fast asleep.

Smiling, just a little smug, "I wore who out?" she pulled one of the blankets over to at least cover his stomach, and then sat down to eat some food so she could join him.

The silence was starting to get uncomfortable, but he really had no idea what he should say. It had been much easier, under her tarp — somehow coming out, putting their clothes and swords back on... it made what they'd enjoyed less important, what they were more so.

Zoro watched her pack up the small camp, the movements methodical, mechanical. She winced, nearly imperceptibly, every time she bent down to pick something up, and he wondered if her head still hurt from the fall the day before. Not that he was going to offer to do it for her. No, he was fairly certain offering to do her work was a bad idea, right now. He'd played the pride game enough to recognize it when he saw it.

She bent to secure the rolled up tarp to her pack, and Zoro realized his eyes were lingering on the tightness of her jeans across her rear end in a way he'd never have done before they'd... Before...

Tashigi straightened, looking quizzically at him, at the sound of his fist slamming into his thigh. Looking at his leg was easier than looking at her face. Which was just running away. Like not thinking about what they'd done, last night. And this morning.

"Look, we..." He paused, not knowing how to put it. This wasn't his thing. This wasn't what he did. He hit stuff. With swords. Problems that weren't fixed with swords weren't his to fix, dammit! His inner monologue snarked that he'd fixed "All kinds of things here with his sword, all right." He quashed it mercilessly, visualizing his boot grinding a bug into the stones. A stupid, stupid bug.

"We need to talk." Her voice cut through his cathartic daydream.

"You're right. Just..." She gestured, aimlessly. "Let me finish packing, I guess."

She stuffed the last few things into the interior compartment of the pack, then lifted it over to the small bluff, leaning beside it. She was a good three meters from him, where he was helping to hold up a tree, and he wasn't sure whether she was too close, or not close enough. It wasn't like he was thinking any better, one way or the other.

The moment stretched between them, taut and quivering, like a stay in a storm. He, studying his scarred knuckles, her, a scuffed boot-toe. Zoro opened his mouth, closed it again.

He rather thought this was supposed to be his responsibility, or something. He wasn't sure how, or why, really — the dark bar stories were disappointingly vague about what came, er, after. And really, why would it be his responsibility anyway? She hadn't been a passive... victim, or anything. Quite the contrary, in fact. But still...

Resolutely, he clenched his fist and looked over at her, just as she spoke.

"Look, uh, even if we weren't, um..." Tashigi trailed off, not sure how to politely say "the Law and a Wanted Criminal." Giving it up for a lost cause, she went on, masterfully stating her position. "I mean, we, that is, I do, and you, surely, can't just stop..."

Zoro was looking at her as if she'd lost her mind. Which she was sure she'd had, and she wished he'd stop looking at her, all handsome and inscrutable. She drew a fortifying breath and plowed on.

"Okay, really, I have a... thing. A goal, like. And you do, as well." She didn't wait for a reply. "So it's not like, um, this means anything, um..." This really wasn't going well, at all. Why wasn't he saying anything? A nod, or smile, or drawing his swords and killing her where she stood so she didn't have to slowly die of mortification like this. Her fantasies always cut off way before this point.

An answer to her internal plea, he shifted, standing up against the tree, with an odd grimace (half-smirk?) on his face. "So it doesn't mean anything?"

Saying anything but that, though. "That's not what..."

He cut her off, his hand slicing through the air. "So you'd do this with just anyone?"

Tashigi gasped, feeling as though he'd punched her in the gut. Incandescent fury filled her, thankfully drowning out the hurt. "Y, you!"

Stuttering with anger, she drew Shigure — or would have if he wasn't already there, inside her range. Her instinctive retreat was blocked by the bluff behind her and the only reason she didn't reopen her head wound on the rocky barrier was because he already had her face between his hands and...

Well.

This kiss was everything she'd coveted, bruising in it's intensity. The anger and underlying pain were hard to hold on to. Rational thought was hard to hold on to. She felt distantly embarrassed at the displeased half-sound she made when he finally pulled away, his forehead against hers.

"Don't do this with just anyone." The words were deep enough in his chest they might have been a growl; and the "other than me" hovered, loudly unspoken. Tashigi felt mildly indignant at the implied possession, but it was hard to coax up any real displeasure in the afterglow of that astonishing kiss. Besides, protesting was like saying she would or did do this with just anyone else. Which was a bit "damned if you do, damned if you don't."

Neatly trapped, she grabbed his shirt and kissed him, again, in retribution. In thanks. Trying her very best to say... whatever it was she wanted to say. To take his breath away, like he'd done to her, that day in Loguetown. She poured herself into it, like fighting. Like saying goodbye.

Pulling back until she could barely talk, her lips brushing his, Tashigi whispered: "Run."

She could feel his lips curve into a smile in reply.

Using the hand in his (poor, abused) shirt, Tashigi pushed against his chest, hard. Playing along, Zoro took a few steps backwards. There was a small smile dancing along her lips, and he was relieved she understood. Not that he'd been worried, per se. Maybe a little concerned, like it wasn't anything; she'd reacted with her sword, like it was an insult to say so, though, so that was okay.

Tashigi took a step away from the small cliff, widening her stance, and he could almost see her range, so strongly was she projecting her intent. "Run." She said again, in a nearly-conversational tone.

Zoro was starting to smirk, he just knew it. He couldn't help it.

"Run!" She roared, the beautiful iai once more flashing out, just as he stepped beyond her swing.

Turning, he started trotting out of the clearing. He started chuckling as he picked up into a lope, trees flashing past him. (It didn't really matter what direction, he figured, as long as it was "away from the mountains," it should be toward the shore. And then the crew would probably find him.)

This is how it worked. The pirates escaped. The marines pursued. And if she caught him, or he caught her, when no-one else was around, well. That was their fight. Not anyone else's.

Run, indeed.

For now.

P.S. The writer and beta do not condone unplanned, unprotected sexual congress. This has many consequences well beyond the scope of this smut. So, though there are no STDs or unintentional pregnancies because it is fiction, real life has these. 'Nuff said.

P.P.S. I did say "for a given value of soon." If you didn't understand the value scale utilized geological ages, well, you really have no understanding of nuance.

On the real, though. Thanks for reading. Figuring out how much smut was FFNet okay was a challenge. And, writing sex is hard! I mean, I hate repeating words in a paragraph, or even in sequential paragraphs, really. But I won't use ridiculous euphemisms, like the infamous throbbing manhood; tab A/slot B doesn't evoke any narrative interest, either, though. Also, I was having trouble with the conclusion, something I have had problems with since ever. (Really. You should've seen my 5th grade persuasive essays. I always wanted to say, "In conclusion, everything I said in the three preceding argument paragraphs!")

And then I saw something shiny and forgot all about the fic.

But here it is, thanks to some determined readers, reviewing a years-old incomplete fic and ever-so-politely asking me to get my butt in gear and finish it.