Author's notes :

Zoro's such a tsundere. Yeah, really. :3

Anyway, here's the final chapter, with smut, courtesy of yours truly. Though, I don't know if I'm happy with the result yet, so this fic might get a few more revisions.

Please R&R!


This had to stop.

Once again, the afternoon was warm. The sun was shining brightly and the sky was devoid of clouds, but Zoro, sitting at the ship's back, out of sight of his current nemesis – he started thinking recently that Mihawk was a joke compared to that shrewd, indecent woman who was turning his days into a living hell – couldn't care less.

That fucking witch! Of course, she had noticed that he was troubled, and she'd soon understood that he was conflicted about her. That he fucking wanted her – and he was absolutely sure she knew that he wouldn't act on it as well. And, as surely as Luffy would engulf a whole meat banquet by himself, as surely as Sanji would turn into an instant doormat in front of a pretty girl, as surely as Nami would immediately jump into a money-filled swimming pool, she had started playing on this weakness of his. All his training, all his meditation had disintegrated, useless in front of that damn woman, who was slowly weaving her web around his body, as well as his mind.

He was now prey to the beast he'd started out watching out for. Fortunately, she didn't know about the complexity of his feelings. Yet.

He scratched his head frantically with both hands. He had tried reflecting on the current situation, but couldn't come up with a satisfactory solution to this problem. He didn't even know what she was thinking. The simple thought that she might be interested in him, just like he was in her, was so terrifying that he had discarded it quickly, choosing to believe that she was merely toying with him, as a retaliation for his mistrust. Anyway, he viewed her as even more of a threat than before this whole thing had started. He was now adamant that giving into his urges would be, to put it plainly and aside from giving an opening to potential danger, playing along with her rules, giving her the upper hand, and a definite victory.

And he wouldn't do that. Ever.

Still, things were going overboard, he was going overboard, and he knew something had to be done. He just needed to find what exactly he had to do to make it stop.

He sighed deeply, trying to ease the towering frustration he had been feeling for the past few days, and decided he'd better take a nap instead of ruminating over this stupid affair. He hadn't been able to get much sleep lately. As soon as he closed his eyes, images of Robin flashed in his mind, and he generally ended up so fucking hard that he had very few options left : taking a cold shower, which would wake up his nakama ; jerking off in the bathroom, and then fainting from exhaustion against the tiled wall to erotic dreams of the worst kind ; or just avoid sleeping altogether. After experiencing the second one twice – he didn't dare waking Nami up in the middle of the night, he wouldn't be able to deal with her wrath since he was as jumpy as a cat in heat – he had decided the last option was his best bet.

And he was now furiously tired, to the point it was dulling his intellectual capacities.

Fuck that woman.

You wish. The little voice in the back of his mind was also really starting to irritate the fuck out of him.

He closed his eyes and started breathing deeply, trying to concentrate on something else – swords. Swords were good, he liked them and they were related to his ultimate goal. Swords then.

He started slowly building an image in his mind : a katana, with a pretty blue handle. He didn't have one in that color. He then conjured a blade in his mind. Dark metal. With a very sharp edge. But as he was mentally creating the steel appendage, the sword's handle turned purple, painfully reminding him of a certain pair of lilac eyes. The curved, slender edge overlapped with another kind of curves, his mind summoning another figure, and the mental image shattered.

"Aaah, damn!"

He had shouted out loud, as he raised his shaky hands to clasp each side of his head. The damn witch was stealing his concentration, his sleep, and soon, she'll be stealing his sanity as well.

He raised his head when he heard footsteps approaching, which he recognized right away.

The witch.

He was pretty sure that she had seen his desperate gesture, and maybe even heard him. Gah. Whatever. Her presence was having a sobering effect on him, anyway. He breathed deeply, and raised his head to face her. He could do it. He was sure he could.

He looked at her while she was reaching his sitting spot. Fortunately, she was wearing pants today – tight ones, but he wouldn't accidentally see unwanted things thanks to that. Looking at her face, he noticed once again that mockery was absent from her face – she wasn't smiling. Was it pity he could see in her eyes? So he had sunk that low, heh? Had he even hit rock bottom yet? He grunted.

"Mr Swordsman?" She had spoken softly.

She sounded somewhat hesitant all of a sudden.

"What do you want?" He replied in a muffled, nervous voice.

She was silent for a while, her eyes intent on his face, then chuckled, but he didn't care anymore. He felt really weary, and thought in a semi-daze that she was really very tall.

"You seem to be troubled."

"Yeah, whatever. Leave me alone now. I'm trying to sleep."

"Are you?"

He clenched his teeth, and crossed his arms on his chest.

"What do you not understand? I told you to leave me alone."

She smiled, and the look on her face was almost gentle. If he didn't know better, he would have been fooled.

"I'm afraid I can't do that."

Zoro felt his brows furrowing instinctively, irritation building up inside him.

"What do you mean? You just have to turn around, start walking, and go back from wherever you came from."

"That's not a very nice thing to say." The scorn was back.

He averted his eyes from her and grumbled.

"Especially when I came to thank you."

His eyes jumped back at her. What the hell was she uttering? He stared at her with what he hoped was a blank look.

After a while, she added : "I don't think I ever had the opportunity to do it properly."

He growled, then signed. "What now? Come on, spill the beans! I don't have time for shallow chatter."

She chuckled.

"You protected me."

He flinched. She couldn't be referring to that time... What did she know about it? She possibly couldn't know what he had felt back then, and how much had changed because of that. Yet, his anxiety got worse when she went on.

"You stood up for me when I was vulnerable, when you don't even trust me. I thank you for that."

Zoro was starting to feel the blush spreading on his cheeks. Fuck. Fuck-fuck-fuck. There was no way he could hide it at this time of the day. He stood up, ready to leave at the slightest sign of mockery, crossed his arms again, turned his head towards the sea so he wouldn't have to face her, and grunted.

"In your dreams. I only did it because the gang would be angry with me if I didn't."

He was feeling tired, aggravated by her ridiculous subtlety, and also a bit embarrassed, as his flushed face was evidently pointing out.

He heard a muffled sound, and turned back to her. She was laughing. Not her usual quiet chuckling, no, she was laughing out loud, her hand before her chin, small tears rolling slowly on her cheeks.

She was laughing at him.

What the fuck.

He suddenly felt his blood boiling in his veins. All the anger, frustration, tension from the past few days washed over him like a tidal wave. And since he was very sleep-deprived, his usual self-control was weaker than usual.

Before even realizing what he was doing, he rushed forward to her, seized the hand hiding her mouth, as well as her left shoulder, and pushed her against the wall right behind her. Despite being startled at the sudden outburst, her laughter didn't stop, merely turning into the more usual chuckles he was accustomed to.

"Stop laughing like that, witch!"

And so she did, though not because he ordered her to, gradually, grasping for air as her chuckles died out, until she was silent. Yet, her smile didn't waver. In her eyes, mockery hadn't settled.

"What do you think you're doing here?" He hissed, his anger barely contained. "Do you think you can get on board, twist everyone around your little finger with polite smiles and a fake nice demeanor, and walk in the open, just like that? You think you can do as you wish?"

He paused, trying to catch his breath. He hadn't realized that he was gasping.

"You think you can toy with me like a cat with a mouse, and not bear the consequences? Who the hell do you think I am?"

Crap, he might have said too much now.

She was now staring at him, her smile dying on her lips, her eyes widened by what seemed to be genuine surprise. She didn't even try to resist, even though he was brutally gripping her arm and shoulder. She could have used her devil's fruit power at any time to free herself, but showed no sign of wanting to. Which is probably why he decided to go on.

"Since you've been on this ship, I've been watching you, because I know you're hiding your true intentions. I don't trust you! I've been watching all the time, and I still can't figure you out… But I can't get rid of it now! And it's entirely your fault!"

He stopped, struggling for words that escaped him.

The witch had her pale eyes intent on him, and all trace of surprise had disappeared from her face. Such a pretty color on such a shrewd woman suddenly seemed an extraordinary heresy to him. Her small mouth was slightly open as she was breathing faintly, and he could totally imagine himself crushing his own against these deceitful lips. Pinning her against a wall had been a major feature of his most recent – and scarce – dreams, and finally acting upon it felt so blissful, her lithe yet strong body pressed against his... He realized that he was now feeling furiously horny. Great, as if he needed that in addition to everything else. Whatever. He wouldn't do anything stupid, no matter what, not as he could almost feel gears spinning wildly as her mind was calculating her next move.

Silence stretched between them. After a while, though, she stirred a bit, licked her lips in what he reckoned unwillingly was a very suggestive way, and chuckled again.

"I don't know about that, Mr Swordsman." She paused. "I'd rather think that you did this to yourself, and never needed my help. Or maybe you think trying to push all the blame on me is a proof of maturity?" She then added, her voice so dim he thought for a moment she hadn't said it, until he realized her lips had been moving : "I told you to make it out whatever you wanted to."

What the fuck was that? Even in such the current situation, she still had the nerve to taunt him? And what did she mean anyway? Whatever he wanted to make out of it, huh? So he was the one responsible, according to her? Or...

His heart suddenly jumped in his chest, the ground opening under his feet, and he felt his body freeze, as if turning to stone, at the realization that these very words could be, in their own twisted, convoluted way, taken as some kind of insanely weird confession.

Whatever he wanted to make out of it. Whatever he wanted... Crap. He knew he hadn't misheard. She really did say these words, and had actually said them twice. Was she admitting that, if he were to act on his impossible impulse, that felt so wrong even to him, she wouldn't defend herself? Was she, once again, only fraying his nerves, or was she fucking serious?

He stomped his hand on the wall besides her head, inadvertently closing in on her. When he realized how close her face was, her lips slightly parted, ridiculously appealing, her eyes intent on his own and full of what he reckoned could very well be desire, he felt blood washing over his own face, while at the same time, his pants seemed to tighten around the painful erection he had been trying to suppress for a while now. He knew he was blushing furiously, and her staring was driving him so wild that he had to close his own eyes before committing a gigantic mistake.

His heart was racing dementedly, and his face was so hot he wondered briefly why it hadn't started to sprout flames. He tried breathing slowly, but it wouldn't help regaining his composure. He was failing miserably.

As he reopened his eyes, he realized that he wouldn't be able to resist much further. She was so close now he could make out every lock of hair on her forehead, every single lash around her pale, violet eyes, every crease on her lips, that were almost touching his. He was so fucking aroused by then that he almost feared creaming his fucking pants any moment from now.

And he was infuriated at the relief he now felt, at the thought that he was finally about to give up on avoiding this painfully impossible situation, his failing restraints crumbling to pieces.

And it was her own fault. She had seen this coming, but hadn't stopped with the unreasonable, tantalizing, perpetual teasing. She only deserved what would be happening to her very, very soon.

He growled. "Dammit, woman! You're all I've been able to think for the past few days! This is all your doing!"

She was smiling expectantly now. He could almost touch his resolve as it was melting away in continual heat waves, just like sand slipping through fingers.

"And what will you be doing about it?"

His eyes locked with hers, and, his last barrier now dissolved, slightly shaking from anticipation, nearly gasping as his lips brushed against her own, feeling a faint pressure from a hand on the back of his neck – what hand? he was holding her right arm and he could feel the other on his right hip – he finally kissed her.

He had thought kissing Nico Robin would be a fight for control, just like the prelude to this kiss had been – days and days of continual teasing. Yet, he was surprised when her small, smooth tongue started gliding against his own gently, rousing sweet yet painful fire in every sensitive part of his body with each light graze. Surprised by the unannounced gentleness of her kiss, he suddenly wanted to taste all of her, so he trusted his tongue deeper in her mouth, and gasped slightly when she played along with no sign of resisting. He felt like his pants were about to explode, but it didn't matter anymore. Nothing else mattered, but this thin body against his own, slender arms firmly resting against his back, his neck, nothing but the firm yet soft nudging he could feel as she was pressing her belly against his own, as well as this mouth, which he was finally possessing.

When they parted, he was gasping from arousal. His eyes were still closed from the kiss, and he was trying to regulate his breathing, as well as his emotions. He heard her chuckle softly.

He opened his eyes, and saw she was smiling. No trace of scorn, this smile being the same kind as the one she had granted him during the sunset episode.

"It seems you have come to a conclusion, after all. Are you sure it is satisfactory?" She chuckled again, then sighed. He thought her smile looked a bit sad when she added : "I'm too old for you."

Yeah, he had noticed. But he didn't care. This had been the least of his problem to begin with, and it never mattered. He was feeling strangely exhilarated, light-headed, and above everything else, he wanted her here and now.

"Shut up."

He leaned in to kiss her again, slid his left arm in her back, and started fondling one of her breasts with his other hand, shoving his crotch into hers in the same impulse. She let out a muffled 'hmm' into his mouth when he rubbed his painfully pants-constricted cock against her, and gripped him with more strength than before.

She broke the kiss, panting faintly, and said with an unusually wavering voice : "We have to stop for now, Mr Swordsman."

He was busy kissing her neck and fondling her left breast, and would have none of this bullshit. All restraints gone now, somehow hazy from arousal and exhaustion, he had decided he was gonna fuck her right now, and he didn't care anymore what could happen if anyone were to sneak on them.

He suddenly felt several arms grabbing his legs, and stumbled on the back deck.

She was standing before him, leaning into the wall, still grasping for air, her cheekbones slightly flushed. Seeing her shaken like that was a nice change, Zoro thought, and made her even more desirable.

"Just bear with me for a moment. Go to the front deck through the lounge, and wait for me." She then left hurriedly.

Zoro was taken aback. What was she doing?

Still dementedly horny but slightly sobered, though not nearly enough to remember that this was a bad idea, he got up, shook his head, and as she suggested, entered the lounge by the back door. It was empty at this time of the day, the shitty cook busy elsewhere. Most likely pestering Nami. Whatever.

He went through the room, and opened the front door. Despite what he had thought moments ago, Sanji was on the front deck, near the boat's prow, smoking, his back turned to the other ship's inhabitants. Chopper wasn't far, looking at some large piece of paper with Usopp, while the latter was fumbling with some weird device he had most likely made.

"Ah, Zoro! Come look at what I made with these dials!"

"Later, Usopp. I'm getting booze now."

"Damn you, marimo. How many times did I tell you not to fool around in my kitchen..."

Zoro barely had enough time to see a tan arm sprouting from the floor near Usopp, sneakily sliding inside the pouch he always had at his side, delicately fumbling then getting out with something clutched between two slender fingers. Which they slammed on the ground rather violently.

Chopper and Usopp were engulfed in a sudden smoke screen. Zoro could hear them coughing within the cloud, while Sanji was shouting their names, since he couldn't see what had happened.

While all this was happening, he felt some tugging on his shirt. Another tan arm had appeared on the railing next to him, and was inviting him into the storage room on the lower floor.

That shrewd woman.

While the smoke was still thick enough for him to sneak in without being noticed, he went down the stairs and entered the room quickly, closing the door behind him. It was dark in here, save for the hatch on the right-hand wall, and he couldn't see Robin anywhere. Had she tricked him again? He then felt arms close around his chest from behind and a warm body press against his. She had been waiting behind the door, obviously.

Her right arm went down to his pants and started fondling his cock through the rough fabric, and at that somewhat direct touch, he felt desire getting hold of himself with renewed fire. He turned back to her, pinning her against the wall again, and started kissing her passionately, while the hand was rapidly shoving his haramaki downwards and unfastening his pants, working its way into them and grabbing him before starting to stroke slowly. He had gripped her ass in a hand, while the other reached for her crotch, lingering there while applying a slight pressure with his fingers, brushing fervently on sensual, sensitive areas. He could feel her breathing hard against his mouth.

He raised his hands to her top's straps, and lowered them until the small piece of fabric was scrunched around her waist, and started fondling her breasts. He lowered his head. Zoro had never been much of a boobs person, but he had to admit hers were very nice, round, firm, her skin very soft under his hands. He squeezed a nipple between fingers and started running his tongue in circles around the other. Robin gasped at this touch, her hands gripping his shoulders, while his free hand was fumbling with her pants' to open them. As soon as he was done, he slid fingers against her underwear and started stroking a delicate spot he knew should be extremely sensitive. She shuddered. Her panties were so wet he couldn't believe she hadn't stained her pants along the way. Discarding the small, soft piece of fabric aside with his fingers, stretching it on the side, he started teasing her pussy's lips, sliding deeper with each stroke.

She was so damn fucking wet.

She suddenly grabbed his hands, and whispered softly. "Stop."

Another hand had grabbed his cock, free from his pants, now crumpled around his ankles.

"No way." He replied.

He kicked the restricting piece of clothing out in some corner of the room, lowering himself in order to slide hers down for better access to her delicate parts. When she raised a slender leg to free herself from the last of her pants, he grabbed her ankle, preventing her from resting her foot on the ground, and, now kneeling on the floor, slid his tongue inside her wet, dripping bush. She let out a low, shaky groan while he was sucking on her clit.

He raised up, still holding her leg, now resting on the crook of his arm, and started rubbing his dick against her pussy. He felt like he was about to explode, but he didn't dare letting go yet, because he wasn't nearly done with her.

This was payback for all the teasing, and he wanted to make sure she did pay.

He positioned himself and suddenly rammed himself into her, in a single move, but finally getting to feel her wet, soft, smooth tightness, he had to stop abruptly. He was far closer to going overboard than he had thought, and this single thrust had nearly sent him over the edge.

But she wouldn't have any of this. She seemed to lose control over herself, now that he was inside her, and started moving her hips eagerly, using the wall in her back as support. He was now desperately trying to hold out as long as he could, but he knew it wouldn't be long before he finally came. She was so fucking tight there was not much he could do about it anyway. So, he grabbed her ass, pressing her against the wall, and started meeting her, thrust for thrust, muffling her rash panting against his mouth. Surprisingly soon, he felt her tense and twitch around him, as he could feel his own orgasm building up, inciting him to thrust harder, deeper inside her, almost desperately, and triggering his own release within her.

He rested his head on her shoulder, her legs still around him, trying to catch his breath. This was close enough to being the fucking greatest sex he ever had in his life, though too short to really appreciate, and he was now seeing stars against his closed eyelids. He also couldn't repress a wild feeling of satisfaction, because this had been tremendously enjoyable, but also because he now realized she had wanted him as much as he wanted her, if not even more. He had never witnessed a woman coming so quickly.

And thinking he was the cause for so much arousal was very, very gratifying.

He suddenly felt her lower her legs, then herself to the ground, sliding slowly against the wall, breaking their intimate connection but not releasing her hold around his neck. He crumbled to the floor along her, soon sitting between her spread legs, still embracing her, not wanting to let go either.

His brain was now waking up from his body's aroused trance, and with it, the little voice, telling him that he'd just made the damn biggest stupid thing since he was born. And now he was coming to his senses, he fucking agreed with that annoying bugger. It was too late, what was done couldn't be suppressed either, but what to do now? He wondered if he could go back to his old suspicious self, but found out he didn't want to. He was fond of her. He'd been for some time, now. And the intimate moment they had just shared – and were still sharing, entangled in one another – had opened more doors, of the kind that couldn't be closed easily, or without what he reckoned would be distress, on his part, at least. He hoped she was feeling the same.

Yet, he still couldn't trust her entirely. If not for her formidable, confident surrendering in his arms, he'd have followed his core instinct and jumped out of her embrace as soon as coming to his senses.

However, he had to admit that he had just experienced something new, terrible, passionate, and merely thinking of never experiencing it again frightened him. It made him feel lonely. He never had felt lonely before, nor did he ever imagine that, one day, he'd feel that way.

He laughed faintly against her neck.

"Damn you, woman."

She tensed against him. She was now breathing more quietly, and soon, she cleared her throat, before saying : "I'm sorry. Though, I don't regret any of it." Her voice sounded somewhat sad to him. She then added, much to his surprise : "I don't expect you to trust me, after all I've made you endure, and even after what we just did. It wasn't the point anyway. But would you believe me when I say that I'd never hurt any of you?" She stopped, as if struggling with words, which was unusual enough for him to raise his head and look at her face. "You are all dear to me." She paused, averting her eyes from him. "I have no one else."

He realized how much this confession had cost her, and though he knew he couldn't trust her entirely yet, the melancholic, almost desperate loneliness he could feel in her voice shook him. She looked genuinely hurt at the thought that he still wouldn't trust her after all this time. Then again, he was dealing with a manipulative woman, and he had experienced it first-hand.

He cupped her head with his hand, turning her face back towards him so he could look at her, trying to figure out how much he could trust her, since after all, trust wasn't just a matter of black and white. Ultimately, he answered.

"I'll believe that much, for now."

She was silent for a while, then curled her arms around his neck, and pressed herself against him.

This was a truce, and she hadn't expected that much.