Work Text:
She couldn’t help herself.
Not when he’d looked so utterly delicious and warm, passed out on the sofa, one arm thrown back and a leg hanging off the armrest, the other foot poked out from under the blanket draped over his long, lanky body. And certainly not with his thick, heavy lashes swept over high cheekbones, his sharp jaw lax, and his mouth softened with sleep.
She hadn’t even thought to resist the urge, the want—no, need—to be as close to him as possible, to sink into his warmth. To feel him stretched out under her, heavy and relaxed, to ride the rise of fall of his chest with each deep, even breath.
Instead, she’d gently eased up under the blanket with him, careful so as to not awaken him. He won’t mind, they’ve always been highly tactile with each other, and he never minds her touch, and gods above, her teeth are positively chattering with anticipation of curling into the heat of his body. Ohhhhhhh, he’s so, so warm, he feels so good, she almost mewls in pleasure as she lowers herself right up into his side, so gently pressing against him—
He stirs anyway, eyes flicking open. “Mmmmn…Nami,” he murmurs with a sleep-thickened voice and a blurry smile, dragging her in close under the blanket with him. This time, she does whimper a little into his smooth, warm scented skin, shivering at how wide, hot, and gentle his hands are, how the light drag of his fingertips sort of turn her insides to liquid.
She flattens herself to him, closing her eyes in pure contentment. He’s not hers, not really, but he kind of is, if she pretends just right, pretends that all the touches, all the glances, all the warm smiles, and softer tone of voice mean something, pretends he wants her too, and right now, she doesn’t even care he might not want her, because she thinks he might, but she’s tired of waiting on herself to believe it to do something—
“You’re squishier than I thought you’d be,” he mumbles drowsily, rubbing his cheek against her forehead, one of his large hands slipping into her hair, easily cupping the back of her head. Are his hands really that big? The thought sends a thrill shooting down her spine, she loves his hands, always has, she loves all the little scars, the play of bones, tendons and veins over the back, and the roughened, calloused palms and fingertips. She wants to feel those hands dragging over her hips, grabbing up her thighs—
“Do you think about how squishy I am that much then?” She teases into the side of his neck with a low, thick laugh, loving how soft he is right now, all sleepy and touchy. She wants to go to sleep with him like this, she wants to wake up to this, she wants to touch him, please him, she wants to see him naked—
“Mmm-hm, at night,” he slurs out, tilting his head slightly and gently pressing her face into his throat, and her mind glitches over his words, and she thinks her heart might explode with the way she can feel his voice rasping against her nose.
“Every…night?” She can’t help but question, her mouth poised to press kisses to his smooth skin, yet scared to even think it—
“Mmmmm,” he hums low and thick, barely nodding, his eyes falling closed. His fingers continue to curl and push through her hair, nails lightly scratching her scalp, tell her he’s not drifting off again yet.
She ghosts a kiss over his throat, and he slips his other arm around her, pulling her closer. “You think about me every night, huh?” She murmurs over heated skin, her heart racing and threatening to obliterate her ribcage at how he shivers in excitement to her touch. “I think about you at night too,” she practically purrs at him with a sultry curve to her mouth, flattening her hand over his chest.
He doesn’t even open his eyes, just pitches a brow at her and snorts softly. “Heh! But I’m not squishy. I’m stretchy.”
She makes a strangled noise at the way his voice had dipped over ‘stretchy’, how he’d put an extra little rasp to it that’s sending shivers zipping up her spine, and she can feel her eyes practically bugging at him, her face is burning hot, and she starts rubbing his chest just to hide the way it’s shaking.
They’ve never flirted before. Nothing overt anyway, nothing definite, nothing easily defined as such. And neither of them have said things to each other that might allude to sex, or wanting sex, but she doesn’t want him to stop, not now, not when he’d literally just told her he thought about how she felt at night!
Every night. And now, he’s talking about how he’s stretchy rather than squishy, with that hot as hell drowsy smirk all over his handsome face, and she kind of wants to eat him alive.
Her head is spinning.
“Mmm-hm, very stretchy,” she drawls out, peering up at him through her lashes, her heart feeling like it’s about to crash out of her chest and into his at any moment, “I think about that. But not just at night. I think about you during the day just as much.”
His eyes open at that, and that smirk slowly spreads into a wide, sweet smile as he lazily shifts a bit more under her, grasping the back of her thigh and guiding her leg over his hips. He licks his lips, his hand dragging along her leg to hook behind her knee, his other hand slipping from her hair to wrap over the nape of her neck. “Kiss me, Nami.”
“Y-yes, captain,” she breathes, eyes wide, cheeks hot, and she slides her hand up over his collarbone, his neck, his jaw, and she leans in fast, catching his mouth in a firm kiss. It starts out slow and thick, his lips are warm, chapped, and he tastes like her vanilla orange chapstick he’d pilfered from her pocket earlier. And none of it is smooth, it’s clumsy, it’s mashed lips and teeth, racing hearts, and caught breaths, and it’s awkward, there’s shy hesitation, and then eager messiness, and it becomes clear that both of them are each other’s first.
But it’s incredible, and it leaves them both flushed, breathless, and staring at each other, and she doesn’t want to kiss anyone else as long as she lives.
Him. Just him.
He grins up at her, his hand still curled over her neck, his thumb rubbing along the hairline behind her ear. “I want more. Now.” He leans up and briefly kisses her, just a soft press of his lips, followed by another, harder, and then, “I want more tomorrow too.” Hungrier kisses, one after the other, this time, his teeth too. “I want you to be mine,” he adds with a small frown knotting up his brows, and this time, he leads into a deeper kiss, experimenting, listening, and she falls into it, into him, and he feels so damn good, she whimpers against his mouth.
She tears out his kiss with a soft gasp, staring down at him as she sucks in her breath in an attempt to steady herself. And Luffy, he…well, he doesn’t let her. He doesn’t allow her a single goddamn breath, not when he’s grinning up at her with that kiss-reddened mouth and those gorgeous, heavy-lidded eyes, looking so thoroughly pleased with himself.
Her heart feels like it’s cracking wide open.
Mine, he’d said, his voice low, rough, possessive.
His. She supposes she always has been.
She stares down at this free, wild, sunshine of a man who has to driven her crazy in the head and heart since the day she’d met him. “So, are you gonna be mine too, then? No one else for either of us?”
He pops a brow and that lazy smirk widens. “That’s how this stuff works, ain’t it?”
“For me, yes.” She holds his gaze, hoping, wishing, wanting him to feel the same way—
“For me, too.” His reply is so simple, so real, as if of course this is how it’s supposed to be between them, almost like it’s already been like this without her even realizing it.
“I…good,” she nods at him, flushing hotly, not really know what else to say, what else to do. This is uncharted waters, and yet he’s comfortingly familiar, he feels like home, and he’s so beautiful, the way he’s looking up at her now, it makes her ache clear down to her toes curling under the blanket, and—
“Come here, Nami,” he commands, his voice rich with humor, his smile wide, and his eyes bright as he pulls her down for another kiss, and then another, deep, luxuriant, slowly pulling back as he shifts her in closer still.
She settles against his chest with a contented sigh, no longer feeling that nervous rush of awkwardness and uncertainty. Luffy always knows the right thing to do and the right thing to say when it matters, that wicked intuition of his especially tuned into her.
“We’re definitely gonna do more of this kissing stuff,” he remarks, his voice bright with enthusiasm, “you taste good.” He smacks his lips and kisses her temple. He falls silent for a moment, his fingers running through her hair, and she can practically feel him thinking— “I wanna kiss you everywhere, gotta know what the rest of you tastes like.”
And just like that, he flusters her once more, and the blush hitting her cheeks scalds to the bone as she groans softly into the side of his neck. Because absolutely, she’s thought about that, him dragging his mouth over her body, everywhere, and she wants him to do that and more, but…
“Are you blushing again?” He asks, and the way his voice feels, the way it vibrates against her body makes her wish she could melt into his skin just to be closer.
“Of course I am,” she huffs into the hollow of his throat, and she loves the way goosebumps sweep over his skin in response. “You just said…ah…well, what you said isn’t exactly something I’m used to talking about. Especially not with you.”
“Why not me?” He questions, “who else would you talk to about it?”
She opens her mouth to answer it’s because she loves him, she’s never loved anyone else before, and this shit’s exciting, but it’s also terrifying, and she has no idea what to do, or how to act. And she closes her mouth just as quickly, because all of it is silly. She knows how to act with him, loving him didn’t change that, and neither did his dreamy confession a few minutes ago.
“No one,” she finally concedes, then smacks a kiss under his jaw. “It’s you, but it’s also because it’s you that I’m a little shy, I guess.”
He doesn’t respond right away; he merely stays as he is, arms around her, cheek to temple, thumb rubbing along the nape of her neck, his heart a steady, even thud under her. She feels herself relaxing in the quiet, her eyes growing soft and heavy as she soaks up the heat radiating off his long, lean body, letting it settle into her bones.
“I like making you blush,” he finally admits in the easy silence. “It’s pretty. And it feels good, knowing I can do that.” Then he kisses her forehead, snickering softly as his lips linger there, “you’re cute when you get shy with me.”
“And you’re cute when you’re asleep,” she shoots back through a teasing grin, curling her fingers through his thick, soft hair. “And after you’ve showered.” She moves to his ear, rubbing the flexible shell between her fingers before gently tugging at him. “And most especially when you kiss me, captain,” she purrs out over the sensitive skin of his neck, trying out that title one more time—
This time when he kisses her, there’s nothing soft or slow about it, he’s kissing with his whole heart behind it. She’s kissing him back, answering, pulling him over her, slinging a leg over his hip and pulling his hair. And as hot-eyed stares and whirlwind kisses simmer down to drowsy eyes and lazy snuggles, it all feels new, surreal, and simultaneously like he’s been hers all long, that pretenses had been real and right the whole time.
After he’d dozed off, his strong, slim body flattened to hers, she smiles softly in contentment, her arm curled around his neck, cheek pressed to his forehead, their legs tangled under the blanket. She eases under him a little more just so she can feel his parted mouth against her skin and his warm breath swirling into the hollow of her throat.
“Since we’re making sleepy confessions today,” she murmurs quietly to the man napping in her arms, “I love you, Monkey D. Luffy. Another thing I can’t tell you yet because it’s you, but,” she pauses as he stirs, waiting for him to settle back down before continuing, “but I’m glad it’s you. So glad it’s you.”