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Welcome Back, this is the chapter you all have been waiting for, I think, not sure I can deliver. Huge thanks to Rexica for beta reading and for calling me out whenever I went ahead of myself, without her these chapters would make a lot less sense.
As I said before, this version on ffnet is missing all the steamy parts, because according to fanfiction guidelines M rated fiction is "Not suitable for children or teens below the age of 16 with non-explicit suggestive adult themes, references to some violence, or coarse language. Fiction M can contain adult language, themes and suggestions. Detailed descriptions of physical interaction of sexual or violent nature is considered Fiction MA."
I do not agree with this but will respect this as best I can so if you want the uncut version ao3 is the way to go.
Last time Robin Fell asleep in the bath after talking with Chopper. The planned negotiations with Zoro were postponed, but don't worry they did happen off screen, so to say. Now we'll finally see some action!
Franky knew. He was quite sure about that. It had started with little things, like inconspicuous thumbs ups and suuupers he'd directed at him. At first, he'd simply chalked it up to the discussion they'd had. For the longest time, he had thought it was Franky still being hung up on his suuuper manliness. Now, he knew better, standing in the freshly soundproofed crow's nest. Gods damn it. He should thank him… awkward as it would be... Though he'd probably just congratulate him and … who the fuck knew what that pervert would do? Gods this crew's pervert-ratio was seriously fucked up, but damn if this new soundproofing didn't take care of a few things he'd been worrying about. And right on time, too. He tucked Franky's card that informed him of the suuuper new upgrade to his 'gym', as it was written on the card, in his haramaki. No need for Robin to know about that improvement just yet.
He undid his swords from his side and knelt down on the floor. Had at least another 15 minutes until Robin would come to join him on his shift, and his swords were in dire need of some care after their earlier run in with the marines. Carefully, he laid out the various utensils he would need, making a mental note to restock on choji oil during their next stop.
He held Shûsui up with two hands, giving it a slight bow. For all it's nagging and its insistence on him being just a brat, it served him well. Its heavy weight grounding. He drew it with his left hand, using his right to gently tap any debris from its black sheath. He was nervous. Uncharacteristically so. He'd barely ever been nervous before. Not even for his first time… not like this. Back then, he hadn't really cared, not about his performance and not about the girl either. Had been an itch to scratch for the both of them. But this? With Robin? It was more.
He used the point of the small brass hammer to remove the mekugi and carefully knocked the blade from its tsuka. This certainly would be easier if they didn't have to plan ahead, but they'd both agreed that, as pirates, they couldn't indulge whenever they wanted to. There had to be relative safety.
The Seppa and the ornate handguard were next. But damn this suspense. When he only held the naked steel in his hands, he wiped the blade down. Yes, according to the communication logs Nami had stolen from the marines that fleet they'd clashed with were the only vessels in the vicinity. Nobody there was left in fighting condition, and the only reinforcement were Smoker and Tashigi still 3 days away from their current position, which was ample time for both play and recuperation.
He removed residual oil and blood from the blade and what had soaked under the Seppa. In all honesty, Smoker might be the marine to walk Luffy to the gallows one day, but they didn't really pose a threat. Probably didn't want to pose a threat. If Tashigi were to walk in on them, she'd probably stutter and fall on her face, trying to get away from them.
Carefully, he dusted the blade with the uchiko ball. Ha, would be a nice change if she were the one not able to look him in the eye.
He wiped again. Still, even without the threat of marines, there were a hundred ways this could go to shit.
He scrutinized the bare blade, found it devoid of any blemishes. Fuck, he wasn't even sure if she'd come up.
With a soaked oilcloth, he distributed a thin sheen along the black blade. And what if she did come up? Would she even enjoy herself? What if, even after hours of discussions, this turned out not to be what she wanted at all? What if he would just add to the scars? What if she panicked?
He reattached the handle, this time using the hammer's head to insert the mekugi. God damn it, so what if she panicked? So what if she'd put a premature stop to it? It wouldn't change a damn thing because he would still be helplessly lost in the enigma that was Nico Robin. Damn.
"You'll be fine, boy." He scoffed, resheathed the condescending blade. Bowed before it, boy his ass…
He took Kitetsu next and bowed. It was the real boy between the two of them. Insolent, too. And still, it kept him alive. Always. It would slaughter everything in their way, but it always kept him safe. Recently, it also understood that the rest of the crew was off limits, would drive him to protect them itself. He drew it. What even took her so long? He could only hope that she wouldn't fall asleep again, like she had two weeks ago after presenting him with the result of her 6 day seclusion. Nami had to pull her and Chopper out, while the shitcook had bled all over the fucking deck imagining himself saving his beautiful, naked Robin-chwan from drowning.
He removed the tsuka. Why did she insist on this elaborate beauty regimen? Tsuba and Seppa. Before and after!
He wiped the blade. Couldn't be because of him. He would have even taken her back then, when she'd emerged from the infirmary, filthy as she'd been.
He dusted the blade. To her, it was important enough to put in writing.
Wiped again. Yet another thing from her past they'd have to work through.
He inspected the blade. No problem, whatever made her comfortable.
Oiled the blade. She should be comfortable.
Reattached the handle. With him.
"Pity we can't kill her if she isn't." shut up. Idiot, mocking him like that. Snicker.
He took Wadô, bowed to it. His most treasured blade, it had stayed with him through all his struggles of the physical or emotional kind. It was his strength, his backbone, Kuina was.
Removed the tsuka. She would be comfortable.
Wiped the blade. They'd talked enough; everything was clear between them.
Dusted. He knew what to watch out for, when to stop.
Wiped, polished.
She arrived. Through the latch. Beautiful as always. Short dress. Hot damn, lacy black stockings… suspenders showing. Fucking hell, she was hot.
"You're late," he said, eye fixed on his blade, inspecting it, hiding both his interest in her attire and his fear of creaming his pants. "I am," she admitted, knowing that there was no room for excuses, fidgeting.
"Undress," he ordered, and he could hear her breath hitch. Still she obeyed, and he chanced a look her way. She reached behind her back to unzip the tight slip of nothing with rosy cheeks. Her fingers were shaking as she brushed the flimsy material off her shoulders, over her wide hips, down her legs. She revealed her impressive bust, barely contained in black silk. Fuck. Unclipped the bra at the front, let them spill, but shame got the better of her, hid them behind her arms.
Nervousness and insecurity oozed from her like blood from a cut. He raised his gaze to meet hers. Recognition hushed over her features. She remembered- he'd looked at her like that before, he'd seen her tits before, and he had fucking loved them. Her arm fell away, fucking perfect.
She shimmied out of her panties, revealing neatly trimmed black curls, lips shaved clean, already glistening from excitement. Fuck. When she reached to undo her garter belt, he stopped her, wanted her to leave that on, as much as it would test his control.
"Get the rope." he ordered, concentrating back on Wadô, rubbing the drenched cloth along its length. She didn't have it, hadn't known to bring it. He clicked his tongue when he felt her arms sprouting in the women's quarters. They dissipated. She got the hint, no abilities without explicit permission. She'd written that down herself. Was she testing him?
With one tap against his forearm, he put the blade back into its tsuka just as she attempted to put her dress back on, cute.
"I told you to get the rope, not to get dressed," he said as he put the mekugi back in, looking at her. Her eyes were wide, hand still clasped around the flimsy thing she called clothing. She fidgeted again but didn't budge.
"Robin." No pet names. She'd been adamant about that. She looked at him. Doubt shining in her beautiful eyes. She worried her bottom lip, deep breaths. She let go of her dress, bowed her head to him, mumbled something.
He put Wadô back in its pure white sheath. "You gotta speak louder than that, Robin."
"Hai, Zoro-sama." Quiet, just loud enough. She was embarrassed. "may I leave?"
He grunted an affirmative, seemingly ignoring her as she climbed through the latch.
He bowed to his blade.
"It's alright" Yeah… it will be.
He put Wadô next to the others, concentrating on Robin's nervous energy slowly and quietly descending the ropes. The others were fast asleep, their tranquil energies right where they were supposed to be. He wouldn't send her out there in nothing but a pair of heels and stockings if it weren't safe. Not yet, anyway. She was halfway across the deck, nervousness quietly giving way to excitement. It was a dark night outside, the moon barely showing, hidden by thick clouds that, according to Nami, wouldn't cause more than a slightly wet ship. That would keep her from seeing Robin was pretty much naked even if she woke up while she was in the room.
He huffed. Her power again. Apparently Robin did not want to take that risk. He hadn't looked at her to see her crossed arms when he'd called her out on her powers before; she had to know that he was observing the ship. Still she disobeyed. He ignored the throbbing in his pants, like he'd done countless times that day. Every day since he'd read the few pages of her manifesto she'd pointed out to him, if he was being honest. The list had baffled him. All the things she wanted to try, things she'd even insist on… his imagination had run wild. Fuck. Concentrate. He was responsible for her, for her safety. Concentrate. The others were still sleeping, no ships in range of his Haki, no ships close enough to see her barely clad figure climbing up the ropes to the crow's nest. He got up, winced at the friction against his way too tight pants, and sat down on the couch.
When she pulled herself through the latch, she was flushed, and when she looked at him, she knew that he was aware of her unauthorized use of devil fruit ability. Her head bowed, "I apologize, Zoro-sama."
He scoffed, "we both know that won't do."
She knew, came to him on wobbly legs, unexpectedly compliant. The hesitation she had shown before was gone as she lay down across his lap, ass on his right, assuming he wanted it in sight. He did, but god fucking damnit, he missed his other eye. To see her ass, flawless back, and pale neck all at once… how was her back this … immaculate? With all she had told him, he would have expected it to be littered with ragged scars much worse than his own. Fuck, he wanted to leave his mark on her. Couldn't though, he wouldn't dare, even if she'd somehow want to try. Too dangerous. If she were ever to be caught by marines, the sick and twisted ones… They'd take his marks and turn them into something toxic, use them against her, torture her with them. He couldn't risk that. He knew her to be strong, she'd resist their mind games… but what if she didn't, if her mind was as deeply scarred as her body by all means should be? He wouldn't risk that.
He'd thought she'd hesitate again, but when he pushed her in the right position, ass in the air, cheeks parted, lower lips completely exposed, he knew. He gave her slit a gentle stroke, fingers barely touching, and she answered with the most delicious whimper, arching from his lap.
He held her down with his forearm on her back, elbow wedged between her shoulder blades, wouldn't do if she squirmed off.
Fuck, her ass was a fucking piece of art. Plump and lush, all the running did her good.
He kneaded one cheek, fitting his large hand just so. One experimental slap, another whimper.
"Now, now, be nice, Robin," he scolded.
"Thank you"
Another slap, harder this time. "Thank you, Zoro-sama!" She called out as he watched the enticing jiggle of her cheeks. With every slap her body'sily reaction became more expressive. Thanking him with more vigor each time, pleading for more whenever he'd halt to caress her abused, bright red flesh. Fuck, next time he'd have to have her the other way round, right now he could only imagine the flush on her cheeks, the tears welling in her lust-filled gaze, the parted lips, pleading for more. Never heard something more enticing than her breathless whimpers. God damnit, had he ever been this hard? Felt like he'd burst any second. She didn't fare much better, she was fucking dripping, whole body quivering.
"Z- Zoro-sama, please." Her voice nothing but a strangled mewl.
"Please, what?"
"Please, take me, Zoro-sama." It was a petulant grumble, she didn't want to beg for that. He'd teach her. He pulled her up with a fistful of hair, her back arched, her perfect tits strutting out, lips parted in a surprised yelp. Gods, he wanted them around his dick, but no blowjobs even though she hadn't been sure about it in the beginning. She had wanted to stay on the safe side, had it in writing now.
"Not yet," he husked in her ear.
Well, yeah...that's that… I hope you did like it a little.
What you missed: eventually they had sex but since Robin has been edging for some time she fainted one stroke in.
Anyway, next week (Yes, next week) Robin will wake up and again, ffnet and ao3 versions will differ again
Let me know what you think