Feminine Wiles
Zoro woke up wearing lace.
It was weird.
It was even weirder to see Nami wearing his clothes. Not a turn off, exactly, just sort of…uh…
Was she even wearing a bra—
Okay, he was so not going there.
No way.
Not even—well shit, was this even allowed? Weren't there rules about this sort of thing? He had won that poker game, damn it, she was not getting out of that debt no matter how enticing her thong line was. It was not happening.
Iron will, and all that.
"Aw, Zoro," Nami sat herself down on his lap, smirking languidly, "You look a little nervous."
"What the hell," Zoro said, and was rather proud of himself for not stuttering. Or wetting his pants.
"I just thought," her hands moved up over his shoulders and slid down his back, nails scraping away the light sheen of sweat appearing there, "That we should spend a little time together."
"I was sleeping," Zoro protested. Nami's legs pinched his waist.
"I know. You were talking about me."
"WHAT." Zoro coughed, and tried to frantically speed through that past week's worth of dreams, trying to remember if Nami had appeared in any of them—
Oh. Well. That was a rather alarming ratio. Maybe he should be arranging a conference with his subconscious or something, because such blatant brainwashing was clearly cheating.
"Oh, Nami," Nami moaned in his ear, mimicking his own voice. She did a fairly decent job. Zoro tried not to squirm.
"I think you're lying." He said, with all the self-assurance he could muster. Which basically meant he bluffed pathetically.
"Yeah?" her eyes were half-open, "Maybe. Want to find out?"
"You still owe me money," Zoro stuttered. Nami grinned, then yanked hard on his hair, tipping his chin up and tracing his jaw line with her mouth. This was so blatantly unfair.
"Money?" Nami repeated, and Zoro had no idea where to put his hands, "What's that?"