(One Piece) Clouds In Her Coffee
Title: Clouds In Her Coffee
Fandom: One Piece
Pairing: Nami/Robin
Rating: R
Words: 773
Notes: For the Fireworks porn battle at femslash_today, prompt "Nami/Robin, storm tossed".
Summary: The calm after the storm.
There’ll be no more sleep for her tonight. The waves have receded, the humidity has dissipated, Usopp is safely situated in the crow’s nest with the promise to yell for her at the first sign of trouble.
But there’s no way Nami will be able to close her eyes now.
Sanji offers to make her warm milk, and although he averts his eyes when she insists on coffee instead, he keeps his comments to himself.
They all understand, even if they worry for her. But she needs to be ready, awake and feeling the air, tasting the changes, anticipating every shift in the weather.
Of course she rests when she can, but the Grand Line is always quick to remind her of the damage it can do while her eyes are closed.
One by one they all stagger back down to the men’s bunkroom, soaked, sore, exhausted.
Until only Nami and Robin are left.
Nami bends over her books, jotting down notes on the Grand Line’s latest storm, calculating how much of the budget needs to be spared for timber and nails and the other materials Usopp requires to keep Merry afloat. The number seems to grow more and more rapidly each week.
Robin sits beside her, somehow utterly dignified despite the salt-water sheen to her hair and the fluffy white towel wrapped around her shoulders. Her hands cradle her own coffee, her gaze contemplative as she occasionally glances out of the small window in the galley door at the dark sky.
And this is why Nami needs to be alert, why sleep is something that belongs to other people. Because Merry is small and battered and while Zoro and Sanji and Usopp may follow her orders without question, the fact is that a good portion of their crew are Devil Fruit users.
When the waves are crashing over the deck, when the rain is salty and horizontal, when Chopper is soaked through before he can even run for the helm, all they can do is try to keep safe while the others tackle the cyclone. And Nami knows how frustrating that must be for them, in the same way she knows how terrifying it is to fight the Grand Line while keeping one eye on her Captain to make sure he doesn’t tumble overboard.
She trusts them, of course she does, but she doesn’t trust this ocean.
She lets her quill drop with a noisy clatter, because suddenly the silence seems too heavy, even if it’s only that way inside her own head.
Robin gently pushes her coffee cup aside, because she knows, she always knows. Her smile is soft and inviting as Nami straddles her thighs, shivering as wet fabric rubs against her.
Nami kisses her deeply, barely keeping her impatience in check. She feels Robin’s hands lift from the bench, and she knows they’re reaching for the towel, planning to wrap it around Nami, to give her its warmth.
When Nami’s hands grip Robin’s wrists, they’re a little rough, a little demanding, but Robin only sighs against Nami’s lips. Lets her hands be pulled towards Nami’s chest, begins to unbutton her shirt without comment. Cold hands pushing inside, sliding over the damp sheen on Nami’s breasts, and Nami lets the weight of the wet material pull the shirt down her arms until it falls to the floor behind her.
She tilts her head back when Robin’s kisses begin to trail down her jaw, down her neck. Her mouth is the only part of her that’s not icy against Nami’s skin, and it makes up for that by being an inferno, by burning at Nami’s flesh, by making her gasp.
Robin may know Nami, may know her desires and her weaknesses and her need, but Nami knows Robin too. May not know her past, may not know her secrets, but it is Robin’s own two hands that grip at her waist, that slip under the waistband of her pyjamas, and that’s how Nami knows how tired Robin is. That’s how she knows how much strength the waves have drained from Robin as they slammed into the deck and drenched them all. No powers, no extra hands growing from thin air to touch her, to take her higher.
Just Robin’s own two hands and the impossible heat of her mouth.
So Nami arches, opens for Robin and her fingers, lets Robin take away her exhaustion and her worry.
And as her hands grip at Robin’s shoulders, they hold the towel firmly in place, soaking up sea water from Robin’s hair as they both begin to thaw, sharing their warmth with each other.
Fandom: One Piece
Pairing: Nami/Robin
Rating: R
Words: 773
Notes: For the Fireworks porn battle at femslash_today, prompt "Nami/Robin, storm tossed".
Summary: The calm after the storm.
There’ll be no more sleep for her tonight. The waves have receded, the humidity has dissipated, Usopp is safely situated in the crow’s nest with the promise to yell for her at the first sign of trouble.
But there’s no way Nami will be able to close her eyes now.
Sanji offers to make her warm milk, and although he averts his eyes when she insists on coffee instead, he keeps his comments to himself.
They all understand, even if they worry for her. But she needs to be ready, awake and feeling the air, tasting the changes, anticipating every shift in the weather.
Of course she rests when she can, but the Grand Line is always quick to remind her of the damage it can do while her eyes are closed.
One by one they all stagger back down to the men’s bunkroom, soaked, sore, exhausted.
Until only Nami and Robin are left.
Nami bends over her books, jotting down notes on the Grand Line’s latest storm, calculating how much of the budget needs to be spared for timber and nails and the other materials Usopp requires to keep Merry afloat. The number seems to grow more and more rapidly each week.
Robin sits beside her, somehow utterly dignified despite the salt-water sheen to her hair and the fluffy white towel wrapped around her shoulders. Her hands cradle her own coffee, her gaze contemplative as she occasionally glances out of the small window in the galley door at the dark sky.
And this is why Nami needs to be alert, why sleep is something that belongs to other people. Because Merry is small and battered and while Zoro and Sanji and Usopp may follow her orders without question, the fact is that a good portion of their crew are Devil Fruit users.
When the waves are crashing over the deck, when the rain is salty and horizontal, when Chopper is soaked through before he can even run for the helm, all they can do is try to keep safe while the others tackle the cyclone. And Nami knows how frustrating that must be for them, in the same way she knows how terrifying it is to fight the Grand Line while keeping one eye on her Captain to make sure he doesn’t tumble overboard.
She trusts them, of course she does, but she doesn’t trust this ocean.
She lets her quill drop with a noisy clatter, because suddenly the silence seems too heavy, even if it’s only that way inside her own head.
Robin gently pushes her coffee cup aside, because she knows, she always knows. Her smile is soft and inviting as Nami straddles her thighs, shivering as wet fabric rubs against her.
Nami kisses her deeply, barely keeping her impatience in check. She feels Robin’s hands lift from the bench, and she knows they’re reaching for the towel, planning to wrap it around Nami, to give her its warmth.
When Nami’s hands grip Robin’s wrists, they’re a little rough, a little demanding, but Robin only sighs against Nami’s lips. Lets her hands be pulled towards Nami’s chest, begins to unbutton her shirt without comment. Cold hands pushing inside, sliding over the damp sheen on Nami’s breasts, and Nami lets the weight of the wet material pull the shirt down her arms until it falls to the floor behind her.
She tilts her head back when Robin’s kisses begin to trail down her jaw, down her neck. Her mouth is the only part of her that’s not icy against Nami’s skin, and it makes up for that by being an inferno, by burning at Nami’s flesh, by making her gasp.
Robin may know Nami, may know her desires and her weaknesses and her need, but Nami knows Robin too. May not know her past, may not know her secrets, but it is Robin’s own two hands that grip at her waist, that slip under the waistband of her pyjamas, and that’s how Nami knows how tired Robin is. That’s how she knows how much strength the waves have drained from Robin as they slammed into the deck and drenched them all. No powers, no extra hands growing from thin air to touch her, to take her higher.
Just Robin’s own two hands and the impossible heat of her mouth.
So Nami arches, opens for Robin and her fingers, lets Robin take away her exhaustion and her worry.
And as her hands grip at Robin’s shoulders, they hold the towel firmly in place, soaking up sea water from Robin’s hair as they both begin to thaw, sharing their warmth with each other.