Done for a prompt on the lj community op-fanforall that read Chaka/Pell at the hot springs, please. Anything from fluff to porn, have at. All characters belong to Oda. I'm just borrowing them for bit.
They haven't had much time to themselves lately.
Sure, part of that's their fault. Vivi-sama has proven these last two years that she doesn't need anyone hovering over her for protection anymore, but they like to, because planning protection detail means that she's home. They could let Igaram take over more of the running of things, but they fought this hard so good men like him wouldn't have to suffer anymore then absolutely necessary (and besides, the more time he spends attending to state matters is less time he spends with Terracotta, and neither man wants to do that to the woman who mothered them through the rebellion).
And the whole being able to actually do something to help put the kingdom back together instead just running around applying figurative band aids and lots of hope is about the best reward they could have ever asked for.
But it doesn't leave them much energy when the day is done for more then curling up beside each other in sleep. And while it's nice to actually be able to get a good amount of rest because you don't have to get up at dawn to keep the kingdom from collapsing and while just getting to hold each other is a bit of a miracle in of itself, he's glad their subordinates talked them into taking a long weekend off to have some of this.
This is Chaka unwrapping the towel from his hips like he's the best present the man ever received, fingers playing almost reverently over scars and unblemished flesh alike. Running his own hands over tan skin slightly reddened from the heat of the spring water, tongue exploring the groves of the scar on the broad chest (a catch of breath, and oh isn't that a heady feeling that he can still arouse this man after so many years). It's rising up from Chaka's lap when they start to move together, letting the strong hands on his hips balance him as he pauses for a moment to push strands of wet, dark hair out of the other man's eyes, to take in the face most familiar to him besides his own. The ragged huffs of Chaka's breath on his neck shifting into a long, satisfied sigh, burying his face in a broad shoulder to muffle his own cry.
Afterwards he shifts to sit sideways in Chaka's lap, tucks his head in the crook of the other man's neck, and decides that they need to make more time for themselves in the days to come.