Later that evening, Nami escaped to the deck, needing air. The sea was now bathed in twilight, the sky painted with hues of lavender and fire. She leaned over the rail, watching waves roll by.
She didn't hear Robin approach, but she felt it again — that calm gravity she carried with her. The kind that made silence between them feel like something alive.
The sea stretched endlessly around the Thousand Sunny, a tranquil blue that shimmered under the sun. The ship glided with the grace of a beast at peace, the winds calm, the horizon wide open. Somewhere in the warmth of early afternoon, silence reigned — a rare moment between chaos and adventure.
Nami sat alone at her charting table in the observation room, brow furrowed as she dragged her pencil across a half-finished map of the last island they'd left behind. The paper smelled of salt, ink, and citrus from the orange trees outside, and her fingers tapped absently as she worked.
Robin's presence arrived like a shadow — soft, calm, and inevitable. She didn't knock. She never needed to.
"You've been in here for hours," Robin said, stepping into the room, her voice as smooth as the ocean breeze.
Nami looked up, a small smirk curving her lips. "You keeping tabs on me now?"
"I suppose I could call it concern," Robin replied, walking closer with the elegance of someone who always seemed in control. She wore a loose violet shirt tied above the waist, a book still in one hand.
"Or boredom?" Nami teased, leaning back in her chair.
Robin's gaze settled on her, unblinking. "Maybe both."
A quiet passed between them — familiar, charged. Robin wandered around the room, eyes scanning the shelves, her fingers trailing across spines of old nautical texts. Nami tried not to watch, but her eyes betrayed her. They always did around Robin lately.
It was in the way Robin moved, the way she listened, the way she saw. There was something maddening about her serenity, about the deep, unreadable waters behind her eyes. For someone who spoke rarely, Robin said so much.
"New island?" Robin asked, pointing to the chart.
"Yeah," Nami said. "I'm trying to figure out a pattern in the currents. They're erratic… but not random."
Robin leaned over her from behind, peering at the notes. Her body was close — close enough for Nami to feel the heat of her skin through the thin fabric of her shirt. Her perfume was faint, something like hibiscus and old paper.
"You've been so focused lately," Robin murmured near her ear.
"I have a job to do," Nami replied, her voice low. Her throat felt dry.
"Mmm," Robin hummed. "I admire that."
Nami dared to glance back — and found Robin's face closer than she expected. Their eyes met. The air between them thickened. Her lips parted slightly, just in case either of them needed an excuse to speak. Neither did.
She looked away, heart racing. "You're distracting."
"I'm not doing anything," Robin replied innocently, straightening up.
"That's exactly the problem," Nami muttered under her breath.
But Robin heard. And she smiled.
"You left suddenly," Robin said beside her.
Nami glanced sideways. "I needed to breathe."
Robin's head tilted slightly, as if reading her expression. "Did I do something wrong?"
"No," Nami said quickly. "You just… You have this way of getting under my skin."
Robin's lips curved subtly. "I'll take that as a compliment."
Nami rolled her eyes, then bit her lip, unsure whether to laugh or groan. "Do you ever not flirt with me?"
Robin leaned her elbows against the rail, shoulder to shoulder with her. "What makes you think I am?"
Nami didn't answer right away. Instead, she let the silence draw out — a kind of challenge. Then finally: "Because I'm not sure I want you to stop."
There. She'd said it.
Robin didn't flinch. She only looked at her, truly looked at her, in a way that made Nami feel stripped bare — not vulnerable, but seen.
"You fascinate me," Robin said after a beat. "You always have."
That hit something deep, raw, inside Nami. For once, she didn't hide behind sarcasm or misdirection.
"Then do something about it," she whispered.
Robin reached up, brushing a strand of orange hair from Nami's face, her fingers lingering just long enough to make her breath catch.
"I intend to," she said softly. "But not when you're still running away."
And just like that, she walked away, leaving Nami stunned, warm, and hungry for more.
The following night, the tension between them broke.
It started with a storm — soft rain pattering on the windows as the crew slept. Nami was up late again, pacing in the lounge, wearing nothing but an oversized shirt and thigh-high socks. Her skin felt electric. Her mind too loud.
Robin entered without warning, her robe tied loose, her hair slightly damp from a shower. The sight of her — so casual, so effortlessly sensual — made Nami stop breathing for a moment.
"You're still awake," Robin observed, her eyes moving slowly over her.
"I couldn't sleep."
Robin stepped closer. "Neither could I."
The distance vanished.
Nami grabbed her by the waist, pulling her in, kissing her with weeks — no, months — of pent-up desire. Robin responded immediately, her hands sliding up the backs of Nami's thighs, lifting her onto the couch, straddling her.
Their kisses grew messy, wet, desperate. Robin's mouth trailed down Nami's neck, biting gently, making her moan. Nami tugged open Robin's robe, exposing full breasts, warm and soft under her fingers.
"I've wanted this," Nami gasped as she latched onto one nipple, teasing it with tongue and teeth. "You don't know how long—"
"I know," Robin said, her voice thick. "I've been patient long enough."
Robin's hands sprouted from her own body — extra limbs that held Nami down, spreading her thighs, tugging away the shirt. Nami whimpered as fingers slipped into her, two at once, slow and purposeful.
"Fuck— Robin—!"
She was soaked, clenching, squirming under the assault of so many touches — lips on her throat, breasts cupped, thumb circling her clit with maddening precision.
"I want to see you fall apart," Robin whispered against her ear. "Again and again."
And she did.
Nami came hard, her body arching, legs trembling. But Robin didn't stop. Another pair of hands held her open, and Robin knelt between her thighs, licking up every drop.
Her tongue moved slowly at first, savoring her, then faster, flicking and sucking until Nami was screaming into the pillow, coming again, tears in her eyes.
Robin slid up, kissing her gently, tasting herself on her lips.
"More?" she asked, smug.
Nami pulled her down by the hair. "Yes."
They made love until dawn — in the lounge, then the shower, then finally in Nami's bed. Sweat-slick, breathless, raw. Robin worshipped her. Nami devoured her.
By the time they collapsed into each other's arms, too exhausted to move, Nami whispered: "You're mine now."
Robin kissed her forehead. "I always was."
But Nami wasn't finished.
The glow from the lanterns cast shadows on Robin's collarbones, her skin glistening. Nami trailed fingers down her chest, over the soft swell of her breasts, watching Robin's breath hitch.
"Then prove it," Nami whispered. "Don't stop."
Robin's smile darkened with desire. "Greedy, aren't we?"
Nami pushed her back, climbing atop her. "You made me this way."
Her mouth found Robin's breast again, but this time slower — deliberate. She licked around the nipple in circles before closing her lips over it and sucking hard. Robin gasped beneath her, arching slightly. Nami's hand traveled between Robin's thighs, finding her wet and waiting.
"Already soaked," Nami purred, sliding two fingers in.
Robin moaned low, her hips grinding into the rhythm. "You're learning quickly."
"I'm an excellent student," Nami whispered, curling her fingers inside.
She watched Robin unravel under her, skin flushed, mouth open. Robin gripped Nami's wrist, needing more. And Nami gave it — fucking her with fingers that moved faster, deeper, hitting that spot inside that made Robin cry out.
Hands — real and summoned — clutched at sheets, hair, skin. Robin's arms bloomed around them, one caressing Nami's ass, another slipping between them to rub her clit.
Nami shuddered. "Fuck, Robin—"
Their bodies moved in rhythm, slick and hot, both of them moaning now, both desperate for release. Nami kissed her again — teeth clashing, tongues tangling, breath stolen — and when Robin came, it was with a sharp cry muffled by Nami's mouth.
But Robin didn't let her rest.
She flipped Nami onto her back, straddled her, and teased her nipples with her tongue before sliding lower, kissing her belly, her hips, then finally her soaked cunt.
Robin's tongue was relentless — curling, flicking, devouring. Nami screamed, her body spasming as she came again, thighs clenched around Robin's head. But she didn't stop.
Fingers joined tongue, and soon Nami was a panting mess, her hands clawing at sheets, begging incoherently for more, for a break, for everything.
Robin's voice was a husky whisper, "You taste like sin."
And she dove back in.
They fucked until the sun rose — animalistic and tender, loud and breathless. No part of each other was left untouched. No inch of skin unkissed.
Finally, breathless, Nami collapsed on top of her. "You're unreal," she panted.
Robin laughed, deep and low. "And you're insatiable."
"I blame you."
They kissed again, slower now, savoring the afterglow. Sticky with sweat and arousal, bodies tangled, hearts still racing.
"I want this again," Nami said.
"You'll have it," Robin promised. "Every night, if you want."
"Not every night," Nami smirked, eyes fluttering. "Every chance we get."
And under the hum of the Thousand Sunny, they drifted into sleep, limbs entwined, the storm outside echoing the fire they'd finally unleashed.
...And under the constant hum of the Thousand Sunny, they stayed like that, wrapped in warmth and satisfied desire.
But Nami still wasn't asleep.
Her hand lazily slid along the curve of Robin's body, stopping right where her hip met her thigh. The archaeologist sighed against her neck.
"Again?" she murmured, smiling against her skin.
Nami responded with a soft bite to her earlobe. "Is there a problem with me liking to play with my treasures?"
Robin chuckled, husky. "I knew you were greedy, but this…"
"Does it surprise you?"
"It excites me."
Nami turned over on top of her again, brushing her crotch against hers slowly, provocatively. Robin let out a low moan, her hands already invoking once more, ghostly fingers caressing the damp skin.
"I want you to think about nothing else but me," Nami whispered. "Not books, not ancient mysteries. Just what I make you feel."
Robin looked at her, eyes dark, her voice trembling with contained lust. "Then keep going. Make me your obsession."
And she did.
Again. And again.
Until the sun began to peek over the horizon, painting their bodies in gold. Until the only story that mattered was the one they wrote with fingers, tongues, and gasps beneath the tangled sheets.
Finally, exhausted, Nami pressed her forehead against Robin's.
"I want more."
Robin smiled, brushing her nose against hers.
"You'll have it."