Jeez, lord knows how I came up with this one...

Not my usual, since it has a more...stuff theme... but there's nothing graphic graphic, if you get what I mean. (Yes, there's meant to be two graphics).

It fits the plotline (well, what's left of it) so it couldn't be helped. Tell me what you think; I know I have a lot to improve on. Also, while the rating is M its just to be on the safe side; as mentioned above, there's nothing nitty gritty about it.

Now, on with the story!

More than the Act

Love, for a girl like Nami, was nothing short of overrated.

She never believed in stories of Prince Charming (though she did dream of being treated like a princess), scoffed at the giggly girls in port who talked about their romantic fantasies (though she did, on rare occasion, fantasise situations involving another four letter word beginning with l) and downright laughed at those who dreamt of one day finding 'The One' (though if they cared for her as much as the stupid gigglers let on, they must be pretty rich…).

Of course, she would never admit to herself that her sceptic views on the issue started from one afternoon in her past.

Ever since that fateful incident, she understood the world could never be completely wonderful. She understood the ugliness it harboured, understood that kindness and generosity were often just a mask to hide true intentions. Seeing it happen over and over and hell, doing it over and over left her with a permanent mark and it wasn't her tattoo; this one was invisible, ingrained deeper than her porcelain skin. The mark of betrayal. She found she could never trust anyone again for a long time.

But last night...

Last night, he made her feel it.

The way his calloused fingers chased shadows over her skin in the dim lamplight. The way his rough lips sucked and nipped; so deftly, so thoroughly. The way their bodies melded together, covered in a sheen of slick sweat; the way he held her and kissed her and loved her.

He had such monstrous strength but was never reckless.

He wanted to go so much faster but never did until she was ready to.

He could've been so careless but he respected her.

Respect. That was what had been missing most in her life.

Maybe that was why he never needed to push further than he already was because this was her first time feeling something so damn real and somehow, he understood that from the moment he had leant down to kiss her. Every move was done and executed with such perfect control to make her fingers leave bloody crescents on his tanned skin, every caress and kiss was exactly placed to have her gasping for more. It wasn't to say he was gentle - far from it, because this was Zoro, for pete's sake. But with him she had rights; he never forced her into anything.

Fuck, he even asked twice before taking her.

He gave her exactly what she had wanted that night; someone to respect her properly, but he did it in the most intimate way possible. He made her feel it right down to her fingertips and toes, made her scream as she bubbled over in a surge of emotions she never knew, made her fly so high as he touched her, explored her, discovered her, placed his hands over her everywhere, unafraid but unhindered. She felt more alive that night than any other moment in her whole life.

It wasn't lust, because it was more than the act.

It wasn't love, because it was nothing like the storybooks described.

She wasn't sure what they called it but in her book, this was hell better than love.

I understand. Incredibly short. So, tell me what you think! No flamers, but constructive criticism is greatly welcomed! Thankyou in advance for all those who will review.

There will also be a Christmas fic coming soon for Ryoku's Jiki Sweetie (so I can hopefully be in her FIC!) so stay posted for that, it's just around the corner.

Til next time!