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Something Worth Dying For	By : slj812000 Category: +M to R > One Piece Views: 10730 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
Chapter Seven: Nami
Nami didn’t remember returning home that night. She didn’t remember if she spoke with her mother or sister, or how she made it into bed. All she could think of were those nine words of doom.
You, my dear, are going to become a Mermaid.
She couldn’t reconcile herself to her fate. It made her physically ill to try. She must have looked something awful the next morning too, because Bell-mère stopped her on her way out of the house to make sure she was well enough to go. The last thing Nami wanted to do was spend the day stuck at home thinking about her fate, so she lied and told her mother she was fine.
She was not fine.
Unfortunately, school didn’t prove to be the distraction she needed, despite her hopes. They were reviewing for their final exams and Nami already knew the material enough that attention wasn’t necessary. She made it through only the first period of class before having to bolt to the bathrooms where she became sick.
She didn’t bother going back to class; she went straight to the nurse’s office. All the old woman needed was one look at her to agree; Nami shouldn’t have come to school. Bell-mère was called and Nami was allowed to leave to go home, assuring both the old woman and her mother on the phone that she could make it there on her own.
But Nami didn’t go home. Not directly, anyway. She walked to the nearest convenience store and hid a bottle of whiskey in her book bag. It didn’t take much effort, since Nami had learned to steal things much harder to conceal when she was only eight years old.
Electing not to take the train since she didn’t want to get there any faster than necessary, Nami began the hour’s walk home. She didn’t make it more than half way before she stopped, still not interested in the prospect of sitting at home, even with the bottle of liquor. She found a nice park that had no patrons in it and sat on a bench, staring at the pigeons as they pecked the ground for food and opened the bottle of whiskey.
It was in this way, staring at nothing and quickly going through the bottle of liquor, that the blonde found her. She hadn’t even heard him approach, which normally would have set off warning bells in her head, but she blamed it on the whiskey. By now, the bottle was half empty and Nami was more than a little buzzed. But that was the point. She didn’t want to have the capacity to think anymore.
“Hard day?” the blonde asked, as he flopped down on the bench beside her. Startled, Nami had to take a moment to focus on him.
“Er—yeah,” she answered noncommittally. He was taller than her; she could tell even when he was sitting down. Maybe a couple years older too, but not much. If he was twenty, she’d be surprised. His blonde hair was slightly long, but she guessed it was him imitating some sort of style, since in the front his hair had been combed over to cover half of his face.
She watched as he patted his chest and then his lap before digging into his pocket and fishing out a pack of cigarettes. He offered Nami one and she stared blankly at it for a moment before shaking her head no. He shrugged before producing a Zippo and lighting his cigarette.
After a long drag, he coughed vehemently.
“Those things will kill you, you know,” Nami commented, raising the bottle to take another swig.
“So will that,” the blonde responded when he could breathe again, pointing to her bottle.
“At least I can handle my liquor,” Nami muttered as she returned the bottle to the bench at her side. “You look like you’ve never smoked before.”
He laughed sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. “You caught me.”
Perplexed, Nami gave up staring at the blonde and resumed pigeon watching.
“I thought if I smoked, I’d look cooler,” he admitted, discarding the cigarette to the ground. “Oh well. So much for that.”
Nami watched as the burning end of the cigarette slowly died out. What a stupid idea. Smoking to be cool? Really? Did people fall for that sort of bullshit advertising? Sounded like something straight out of a tobacco commercial.
“I should have never believed that Marlboro ad,” the blonde lamented. Nami had the strong urge to drop her face into her palm.
Abruptly, the blonde grabbed the bottle of whiskey off the bench and took a long pull. Well, he could at least take liquor better than the cigarette. He didn’t even flinch at the whiskey that had to be burning the whole way down.
“Hey!” she cried, reaching over to snag the bottle from him. “That’s mine!”
He laughed, relenting it easily. “I needed to do something to clear out the taste.”
Fucker.
“Get your own damn bottle,” she groused, wiping the bottle off with her shirt before taking a swig herself. “Ugh! Backwasher!”
He laughed again. “Sorry.”
He didn’t sound remotely sorry at all. Nami held the bottle tightly with both hands in her lap as she glared at the pigeons that were still pecking the ground.
“So, what’s so bad that you’re drinking at—” he checked his watch, “—ten thirty in the morning on a Tuesday?”
“None of your damn business,” she returned instantly.
“It can’t be that bad,” he dismissed, leaning closer. Nami leaned away.
“Wanna bet?” she countered.
He grinned. “Sure. What are the stakes, milady?”
Nami didn’t have to think long on them. “If I’m right, you have to do one thing I ask, no matter what it is.”
He shrugged, unperturbed and clearly underestimating her problems. “Fine. I win, and you give up that bottle to me. That’s some tasty whisky you got there.”
“Deal,” she agreed, sticking out her hand. They shook on it.
“It’s a promise,” he vowed. “So, what is it? What’s so bad that you decided to drown yourself in a bottle of top shelf liquor?”
Nami took a deep breath and let it out slowly. This was the first time she was going to say it out loud. Somehow, she felt like it would be worse if she actually said it.
“I belong to the yakuza,” she managed to say, though her voice threatened to give out at first. “I have belonged to them since I was eight. I’ve been forced to fight other gangs and steal in order to keep my family off the hit list. And—”
She faltered. Just when the words were about to come out, she lost her nerve.
“That sucks,” he admitted after a long pause. “I’m not from around here, but I’ve heard that the East Blue was the worst of all the Blue suburbs in terms of organized crime.”
“You have no idea,” Nami agreed, taking another drink. Midway, the blonde reached out and grasped the bottle neck, forcing it down.
“That sucks, but it doesn’t sound like a reason to partake in a bottle of Jack Daniels,” he said. “Pay up.”
Nami didn’t let go of the bottle.
“Have you heard of Fishman Village?” Nami asked. He cocked his head to the side.
“Yeah, I’ve heard of it,” he owned up, still pulling at the bottle. “Probably everyone who has ever walked off the straight and narrow has heard of it. What of it?”
“In Fishman Village, there are two kinds of active members,” Nami told him. “Messengers and Enforcers. I was a Messenger.”
He shrugged. “So?”
“I was given a promotion,” she managed to say, though not without a grimace. “One I can’t refuse.”
She’d been unable to deny the promotion. When she’d tried, citing intelligence gathering of Baroque Works, her employer had stated that she was too valuable an asset to let roam the streets and incur such injuries as she had against the Black Cat gang. He’d patted her cheek and told her to return to him when the bruising had faded to take up her new mantel.
“You’re an Enforcer now?” the blonde guessed skeptically.
“Do I look like I could be an Enforcer?” she snapped at him, yanking the bottle out of his grip. Some of the liquor sloshed out of the bottle and dribbled onto the ground. She ground her teeth in annoyance.
“Not really,” he confessed with a laugh. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, the high school uniform thing is hot, but it doesn’t scream yakuza Enforcer.”
Nami took another pull of the quickly dwindling liquor. “No it doesn’t. But it doesn’t matter, since I won’t be wearing the uniform much longer anyway.”
He grabbed the bottle back with a sharp tug. “I’m still winning the bet.”
“There’s another type of member of Fishman Village,” Nami explained as the asshole blonde took another drink of her whiskey. “An inactive one. I’ve been promoted to that.”
She stared at the ground where the pigeons had been scared away from their violent movements. The blonde let the bottle drop to his lap and belched.
“So you don’t have to beat the shit out of people anymore or steal,” he predicted. “Doesn’t sound so bad. What are you now, a money launderer?”
He seemed amused at the prospect as he took another drink from the bottle.
“I’m being promoted to a Mermaid,” she confessed in a small voice. In her peripheral vision, she saw the blonde stop mid-drink and turn to regard her.
“A Mermaid?” he repeated. Apparently, he’d heard of it. Silence filled the space between them for awhile. “You’re what, fifteen years old?”
“Sixteen,” she corrected.
“Like that’s any better,” he muttered, thrusting the bottle back into her hands. “You win.”
Though she knew she would, it didn’t make her feel any better. She looked at the mostly gone bottle in her hands. Part of her was considering making him buy her another bottle, since he’d consumed at least a quarter of her first. But there was something much more important that she needed from him.
“Come on,” she said, standing up and grabbing her book bag. She slid the bottle back in it since she was a minor and drinking on the streets was illegal anyway. “It’s time to pay up. Let’s go.”
“Where?” he asked, getting up as well.
“Back to my house,” she answered. “Unless you want to pay for a hotel.”
“Huh?” was his response as he followed her out of the park.
She was doing something incredibly stupid, she knew, taking someone she hardly knew back to her home, but the alcohol was sucking away her caution. She didn’t care.
“So why are we going to your house?” the blonde asked after a few minutes of walking. “You gonna make me grout your floors or something?”
“No,” she answered. “You’re going to fuck me.”
He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. It took her a few moments to realize that he wasn’t keeping pace with her anymore. She turned to look at him. He appeared completely stunned.
“You want me to what?” he asked.
“Fuck me,” she repeated. Was he deaf? She didn’t stutter.
Slowly, he took the last couple steps to her. “Why?”
“Because I don’t feel like letting the yakuza sell my fucking virginity to some sick bastard!” she snapped. “I want this one thing to be on my own terms.”
He was staring down into her eyes. He seemed so serious at that moment that Nami almost lost her nerve and wanted to break down crying. But she wouldn’t back down, not on this.
“You promised,” she reminded him. He grimaced and sighed heavily. He shifted his gaze across the street and chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment.
“Wait here,” he muttered, crossing the street to convenience store. But Nami followed him, worried that he may try to sneak out of a back door and leave her out of luck if she let him out of her sight. She was only a few steps behind him as he passed aisles until he came to the hygiene aisle and went to the condom section.
“I told you to wait outside,” he grumbled, grabbing a three-pack and pushing her towards the exit. “You live around here, don’t you? You want someone to see you hanging around a guy buying condoms?”
He had reasoning behind his words, but Nami still didn’t trust him to run.
“Give me something of yours,” she insisted. “So that I know you won’t ditch out on me.”
He gave her a sour look and pulled his wallet out of his pocket. He fished out a thousand berry bill and pushed the wallet into her hand.
“Happy?” he asked. “Now go.”
She made her way out of the convenience store while he dallied around a little, making sure the clerk didn’t see them leave together. She waited for him across the street where they’d originally stopped. It took a couple of minutes, but he reappeared before her.
“I want you to know, that even though my morals are sometimes questionable,” he told her, “that this is one that I’m having a hard time going against.”
“Morals?” she repeated.
“I feel like I’m taking advantage of a vulnerable girl,” he clarified. “One that is drunk to boot.”
She rolled her eyes. She wasn’t that drunk. And she didn’t think she was vulnerable either. She told him so.
“You should be doing something like this with your boyfriend,” he complained. “Not some stranger off the street.”
“Yeah, because there’s oodles of time for a boyfriend when you belong to the yakuza,” she returned. “I barely have any friends.”
He looked surprised to hear that.
“It’s not a good idea to have anyone important to you when you belong to the yakuza,” she clarified. “So that they can’t be used against you.”
He remained silent as they continued toward her house. She thought about the three people who had the misfortune to be called her friends; Luffy, Zoro and Ussop. Well, technically, Kaya was probably her friend too, but Nami didn’t worry about her too much. She was already half a world away with some random relative and far from the yakuza’s reach.
“What if you didn’t have to become a Mermaid?” the blonde asked out of the blue. Nami looked up at him in disbelief. “Would you still be throwing your virginity away to some stranger?”
“Probably not,” she admitted. “But it’s irrelevant to think like that. The only way I’m not going to become a Mermaid is if I happen to get knocked off before my ‘debut’.”
He sighed impatiently. “That’s not the only way. You could ask for help.”
“Help?” she repeated with a laugh. “From who? The police? Seventy-five percent of the East Blue police force is on the payroll of Fishman Village.”
“I could help you,” he offered. She snorted.
“What could you do?” she asked snidely. “One person versus hundreds of Fish. You’d get your head blown off in two seconds.”
That pissed him off. He kicked a rock that was in their path farther down the road with a fierce strike.
“I guarantee I’d last longer than two seconds,” he muttered. Nami rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. She didn’t want to piss him off too much or he might refuse her. She seriously doubted she could stop him if he decided to make a break for it.
They had made it to her house by then. She unlocked the door and slipped her shoes off, but made him keep his on. She didn’t want to have any incriminating evidence in the front hallway if her mother or sister came home early.
She led him up the stairs to her room, dumping her book bag on the floor as she walked in. The blonde followed behind, kicking his shoes off and dropping his jacket as he closed her bedroom door. Not one to dilly dally around, Nami pulled her top over her head and tossed it aside, quickly followed by her skirt. The blonde regarded her as she peeled off her socks.
“What?” she asked, perturbed by his stare.
“In a hurry?” he responded. She shrugged.
“Granted, I’ve never done this before, but I’m pretty sure we both have to be naked for this to go down,” she pointed out. He smirked.
“You’re right,” he assented, taking one of her hands and bringing it to his lips. “But there are other things that come first. Taking our clothes off is half of the fun.”
“Fun?” she repeated, deadpanned. He used the grip he had on one of her hands to pull her to him. His other arm slipped around her waist and held her close to him as he dipped his head and kissed the side of her neck.
“Yes, this is supposed to be fun,” he informed her. “Pleasurable too.”
She huffed an impatient sigh, but he was unruffled. Slowly, he made his way by trail of kisses from her neck, to her ear, onto her cheek, and finally to her mouth. She immediately pushed him away.
“Don’t kiss me,” she insisted. He pulled her back in.
“Why not?” he asked.
“I don’t like kissing,” she answered honestly.
“Too bad,” he replied. “It’s part of having sex.”
She huffed again. He continued to kiss her, despite her protest. All the while, his hands were caressing parts of her body. Her back, her neck, her arm where the ugly bruise still lingered, and finally, across her breasts and butt.
“Take my shirt off,” he instructed, putting her hands on his chest. Her fingers immediately went to the buttons, fiddling with them until they opened. He chuckled at her as she had some difficulty with the first two buttons.
“Take your own damn shirt off,” she snapped, pushing him away again. She turned and sat down on her bed, crossing her arms. He smiled ruefully as he shucked the shirt to the floor.
“Don’t get mad,” he scolded. “You need to participate more. I wanted you to take my clothes off for me. It’s a big turn-on.”
“How do you know how I want to lose my fucking virginity?” she shot back. “I don’t recall asking for any commentary.”
He smirked, kneeling down in front of her. “I see that you tend to lash out when you’re nervous.”
So what if she did? Why the hell did he have to point it out? She began to feel like backing out again, but then it occurred to her that he might be doing it on purpose. He may be trying to get her to do exactly that. She decided to call him on his bullshit.
“Says the guy who’s trying to get out of a free fuck,” she retaliated. “I think you’re the one that’s nervous. This can’t be your first time, can it?”
She knew it probably wasn’t, but she just wanted to get under his skin the way he was getting under hers.
“Yeah, right,” he denied, sufficiently riled. “Ain’t no first-timer gonna make you scream his name when I make you cum.”
“I don’t even know your name,” she lazily pointed out. He opened his mouth to tell her, but she cut him off. “And I don’t need to know. You just need to quit your damn stalling and get this show on the road. I don’t want my mother coming home early and finding you here. It would be a pain in the ass to explain.”
He gave her a slightly annoyed look before standing and dropping his pants to the floor. He awkwardly balanced on one foot as he pulled his socks off before leaning over her as she sat on the bed. She figured he was going to try to kiss her again, so she didn’t give way to him, but instead, he put his hands on her hips and pushed her farther back on the bed. He then sat on the edge of it, pushing her knees apart and leaning over her again. He leaned forward and kissed the middle of her chest, reaching around behind her and popping her bra open with one hand.
Nope, definitely not a first-timer.
He pushed her down onto her back as he slowly slid the bra from her shoulders and tossed it away. He then took position over her chest again and leaned down to kiss different areas of her skin again. A couple of guys had tried to cop a feel before, so she wasn’t really expecting much from him touching her breasts. But the difference between a couple layers of clothes and bare skin was apparently a large one.
His hands were slightly cool, and it tingled when he ran his rough finger tips across her skin. Especially the underside of her breasts. For whatever reason, she was super sensitive there. Only two brushes of his hands there had her nipples hard. It seemed stupid to describe the sensation as tightening in her mind, but that’s what it felt like when he ran his thumbs over her nipples.
The sensation was very overpowering when he ran his tongue from the underside of her breast to her nipple and then closed his mouth over it. When he grazed his teeth against her nipple, she jerked so hard that she nearly kicked him off the bed.
“Easy now,” he said, putting a hand on her leg and pushing it back down to the bed, covering it with his own leg so she couldn’t unseat him again. Embarrassed, Nami tried to push him away when he attempted to lean back down to her breast. “Quit wiggling.”
“You quit,” she replied. “I don’t like it.”
“Liar,” he accused. He gently blew against her damp skin. The tightening sensation only grew. She pushed her hands against his chest so he had to back away. He sighed in annoyance and gave her an appraising glance.
“I know this is your first time, so there’s no reason for you to be self-conscious,” he told her. “Nothing I’m going to make you do is any reason to get embarrassed.”
Like hell! It wasn’t him who wanted to moan in pleasure or arch his back and a number of other embarrassing things.
“What are you gonna make me do?” she asked apprehensively.
“Make you cum so hard that you see stars,” he stated with a sly smile. She swung at him in an attempt to slap him. He caught her arm and easily pushed it back down onto the bed. “You want me to fuck you or not?”
“This isn’t fucking!” she snapped at him.
“Sure it is,” he replied.”We aren’t exactly having afternoon tea and playing Bridge here.”
That was not what she meant and he knew it. She attempted to slap the smug smile off his face with the other hand, but he caught that one two.
“Take it easy,” he told her. “We’ll get there. Don’t be in such a rush.”
Her alcohol buzz was starting to wear away and this was beginning to feel less and less like a good idea. That’s why she wanted to rush. Otherwise she really would be in danger of chickening out. But to her good luck, the blonde released her hands to slip his thumbs beneath the sides of her underwear and slip them down her legs.
Finally. They were getting somewhere.
Or not.
Instead of climbing over her once again like Nami expected, he stopped midway and leaned over her hips. She immediately knew what he planned on doing and sat forward to push him away, but he caught both of her wrists in one of his hands and pinned them to the bed.
“No! I don’t want—”
It was too late. Her legs were pinned splayed beneath him so when he leaned his face down put his mouth on her labia, she couldn’t do anything but squeal in protest. And it was a squeal because her mind couldn’t form words, much to her irritation.
No one had touched her there but herself, and she certainly wasn’t doing the things he was doing. So suddenly having someone foreign there, say licking, sucking, and nipping at parts of her, was very traumatizing at first. But only at first. Because it quickly became very pleasurable, despite her very high doubts on the matter.
As much as she tried, she couldn’t keep quiet. No words passed her lips, but embarrassing whimpers, moans, and gasps escaped her. She was pulling at her trapped hands with all her might, not because she wanted to escape, but because she needed to hold onto something. The bed sheets, his head, whatever. She just needed something.
Her wish was finally granted after she arched her back off the bed so high that her hips jerked away from him. He let go of her hands to pull her hips back and then hold them there. She tried grasping at the bed sheets first, but her hands were slick with sweat and they slid off the sheets when she tugged too hard. So her hands went to his head, sliding through his slightly shaggy blonde hair and fisting there.
“Easy, babe,” he beckoned. “I don’t want to be bald after this.”
She wanted to give him a snide remark in comeback, but she was panting too hard. She had thought his playing with her breasts was bad for her sanity; this was much worse. She doubted she would be able to look him in the eye after this.
His mouth was on her again, and focusing on what had to be her clitoris. Yeah, she’d taken an anatomy class just like everyone else, but she wasn’t one of those ‘body curious’ people who had to sit down with a mirror pointed at her crotch to make sure she was anatomically correct. She knew she was. Or at least she used to know. Because her mind was quickly turning into a puddle of nothing and she wasn’t sure she knew anything anymore.
The hands grasping in his hair became leverage for her when she started to push him away again, overwhelmed by sensation.
“I can’t!” she exclaimed, somehow finding words, but only a few, and not enough to express the feelings overwhelming her. “I can’t!”
“Yes you can,” he assured her, before pulling her hands from his hair and going down on her again.
No she couldn’t! No matter what he said. She was going to explode or melt or something if he didn’t stop. But he didn’t stop and she did explode, crying out loudly as an orgasm took her and her body began to tense and release over and over. He didn’t stop sucking on her until she had stilled and fallen back onto the bed, panting.
“See? You made it through alive.”
His cajoling voice irritated her and she wanted to scowl at him, but she was too busy scowling at the wall since she had turned her head away from him. She was right; she couldn’t look at him anymore. She felt a light tug on her pubic hair.
“I usually like my women clean shaven,” he commented. “But it’s nice to know you’re a natural red head.”
Anger overrode irritation and she looked at him, raising her hand to slap him again. He caught her hand and smirked, leaning down to kiss her.
“No! Absolutely not!” she shouted, using her free hand to block his mouth. “You are not kissing me after you did that!”
He rolled his eyes at her. Pulling away, he got off the bed and strolled over to her book bag and fished out the whiskey bottle. He swirled the small amount of liquor around in the bottle; there was probably only two or three sips left. He hung his head back and dumped the last of the liquor into his mouth, swishing it around and gargling like it was mouth wash. He then spit it back into the bottle and recapped it.
“There. Anything you think is gross has been sterilized by the alcohol,” he told her, going to his jeans on the floor and digging into the pocket, pulling out the pack of condoms. “And since you’re that picky about what goes near your mouth, I doubt I’ll ever get you to return the favor.”
No, Nami definitely didn’t want to give him a blow job. She felt guilty for a few seconds before she remembered she hadn’t wanted him to give her oral, and tried to stop him several times. All guilt washed away at that thought.
Nerves replaced it as she watched his boxers fall to the floor. Yes, she’d taken anatomy, but there was something different about seeing an erect penis in the flesh versus in drawings in a textbook. She tried not to look at it as he rolled a condom on, since it would only make her more nervous, and worked on looking at his face instead.
He was staring at her in assessment. He must have seen something in her eyes, because he sat down on the edge of the bed, but did not lean over her again.
“It’s not going to be as bad as you think it is,” he promised her. “It usually only hurts because girls tense up the first time.”
“Yeah, because you’re totally a girl and know what it feels like,” she quipped, attacking out of nervousness again. She wouldn’t apologize though.
“Just relax,” he commanded gently, scooting closer and leaning over her a little, but no skin was touching. “It’s going to be fine.”
“I know,” she hissed. He just didn’t understand that all of his reassurances were falling going to fall on deaf ears.
Slowly, very deliberately, he stretched himself across her. She jerked involuntarily when that part of him touched that part of her.
Fuck. What was she, twelve? She couldn’t even be mature enough in her mind to think the body parts?
“Relax,” he repeated in a whisper as he leaned down and kissed her lips. Thankfully, the only thing she could taste was whiskey. That reassurance settled her a tiny bit.
His kisses were different now. If she had to describe them before, she would have chosen to call them an attempt to entice her. Probably trying to get her in the mood or something. These, though, were different. They were slow, gentle, and, well, intimate. She somehow felt closer to him now than she had before, which sucked because she was trying to avoid intimacy altogether.
But she couldn’t avoid this. And for some reason she couldn’t contemplate, she wanted to kiss him back. He was caressing her cheek gently with one hand while his other arm had snuck beneath her to wrap around her waist. She felt compelled to match the movement.
Timidly, one hand found its way to the small of his back. He didn’t seem to notice that, but when her hand rose to his face and aimed to sweep the hair away that covered one side of his face, he moved his head away.
They didn’t say anything out loud, but words passed between them. His were to back off, that wasn’t allowed. Hers were to fuck off, he’d exposed all of her insecurities; he could deal with it. She took herself as the winner of that silent conversation and her hand resumed its trek. She ran her fingers through the silken blond hair and pushed it back, gazing up at his uncovered face for the first time.
He was right; she shouldn’t have done that. The hair had been strategically placed there for a reason.
She couldn’t meet his gaze as both of his eyes stared at her intensely and she let the hair fall back into place. Knowing that she’d really messed up the mood, she tried to ignore the faux pas and initiated kissing for the first time. She could tell he was irritated with her when it took him so long to respond, but eventually he did.
The kissing was not awful, and actually a little helpful in terms of distraction. She needed it when his hand moved away from her cheek to much farther down her body. Though his mouth had been there just a few minutes before, Nami still jumped when his fingers touched her labia. He caressed her gently there for a minute or so before dipping a finger inside of her.
As he’d predicted, she tensed up immediately. He waited until she relaxed a little bit before starting a slow, exploratory pumping motion. It was then that she realized how wet she was. Yeah, she’d had a few of what could probably be classified as female wet dreams, and had come out a little gooey when she’d woken up. But this was much different. For starters, there was much more of it. Now that his hand was moving around down there, she could feel how much there was. Second, it wasn’t gooey as much as it was slimy.
Gross. All of her favorite fucking words to describe her in the middle of getting ready to have sex. So much more to be embarrassed about on a day where embarrassment knew no bounds.
He put another finger inside of her and her train of thought stopped. The first had simply felt odd, but this felt like an intrusion. There was too much there. She wanted to tell him to take the other finger out, but she was struck by the thought that two fingers was nothing in comparison to what he was going to put inside of her next.
That was a sobering thought. Very sobering.
As if he’d read her thoughts, his fingers went away but were replaced by something much thicker. She felt the bulbous tip of him enter her and she jerked again.
“Stop!” she cried, suddenly terrified. He did as commanded, no longer moving or kissing her. He gave her an appraising look.
“It’s okay,” he promised her, but it wasn’t. She could feel her bottom lip quivering and her eyes stinging. She hid the ridiculous sight of her face in his shoulder. He kissed the side of her head.
It occurred to her that he’d been waiting for this to happen. All of the evaluating looks he’d been giving her was really just him waiting for her to break down like this, because he knew she would.
“It’s normal to be scared,” he assured her, but Nami didn’t think he was just talking about the situation that they were in. He was probably also referring to her life in general.
She spared a quick glance at him, thinking that she must have somehow won the lottery with this random guy. How could he be so nice and supportive and generally not douchy? She had the urge to learn more about him and make him a presence in her life, but those were futile things. He knew far too much about her already and she was going to be locked away as a whore in a matter of days.
Right. Back to the purpose of this. Nami took a deep breath and held it in for a moment, recollecting herself. She could do it.
“It’s alright,” she told him, working to relax her body so he would believe her. He gave her a sidelong glance before kissing her again.
“Stay relaxed,” he instructed, beginning to push in again. She did okay until he reached her hymen. With some pressure and a popping sensation, her hymen was gone and she tensed like a bow string. He stilled for a couple moments.
“Just a little bit more,” he told her, though his voice was a little strained now. Despite her tensing up, he continued to push in until she felt like every organ in her body was being squished out of the way to make room. Finally, he bottomed out.
She had both her arms encircling him, her nails dug deeply into his back. She knew it couldn’t be pleasant for him, but she felt like she couldn’t let go either, since he might move and she absolutely didn’t want him to do that. Of course, he did anyway. She dug her nails in deeper, trying to stop him through pain or just to hold him still by force.
“Not yet,” she pleaded with her face buried in his shoulder, sounding pathetic and whiney in her own ears.
“I’ll go slow,” he assured her, but she wasn’t sure going slow would be any better.
It felt weird and foreign and that was probably most of the reason she didn’t like it. Her insides were pushed and pulled by his intruding appendage (nope, still not mature enough to think the word yet) and she honestly couldn’t understand what was so alluring about the whole act.
At first.
It maybe took a good five minutes for her to get over the feeling of weirdness. That was probably also when she started to untense and her mind was able to focus on other things. She spared a glance at him and noticed the look of concentration on his face. He was braced up on one forearm while the other arm held her stationary to him, and his eyes were closed as he leaned his forehead on the mattress.
She was still watching his face when her vaginal muscles spasmed, probably due to the intrusion, and she watched his face twitch in reaction as he hissed through his teeth. She realized how much self-control he was using at that moment. She didn’t feel guilty, but she did feel grateful.
Infinitesimally, she felt him begin to increase his pace. It didn’t bother her too much and she figured he had to be getting pretty close to the limit of how much slow torture he could endure. She became aware of the noise of her bed creaking from the movement and the sound of skin slapping together. His breath was becoming labored in her ear and soon he was braced on both forearms and kissing her again.
Between them, her breasts wobbled back and forth, with her nipples occasionally brushing against his chest. Her legs, which for awhile had been glued to his hips as he moved, were now bent at the knees and splayed at her sides. The thrusts had become less controlled and more rough, were coming much faster now.
This wasn’t too bad, Nami had to admit. The feeling was pretty nice and getting better as time wore on. But nothing lasted forever and soon the snap of his hips into hers was abrupt and staccato before he tensed up and slowed to a crawl.
Breathless with exertion, he fell onto her for a few seconds before rolling to the side and pulling her with. He panted for a few moments before kissing her again, long and lazily.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it princess?” he asked between pants.
Nami made a face at the term of endearment. “I guess not, honey-bunny.”
He raised an eyebrow at her.
“What?” she asked. “I thought we were trying out pet names for each other.”
He smirked, finally breathing normally again. She felt him slip out of her and despite herself she jerked a little. As her insides felt like they were returning to normal, she watched him slide off the condom and tie it off. He tossed it into the small trash can next to her desk.
“So what did you think?” he inquired, throwing his hands back behind his head as he lounged on her bed. She raised her head from his chest to look at him.
“It was alright, I guess,” she answered honestly. He gave her a sour look.
“Only alright?” he repeated. “I believe I had you moaning in pleasure at one point.”
She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. You’re just mad because you didn’t end up making me scream your name.”
He smirked at her and leaned up to kiss her. She broke it off quickly. Now that they were done having sex, the kissing was back to being a gross annoyance.
“You better get dressed,” she told him, rolling off of him and sitting up. She gathered up her strewn clothes and deposited them in the hamper. “I don’t want my mother to come home early or something and catch you.”
He sat up too, but made no move to get dressed. She ignored him as he watched her go to her dresser and pull out a fresh pair of underwear and some lounge pants. She found a tank top to put on and noticed that he still hadn’t moved. For good measure, she picked up his boxers and threw them at his face. He caught them mid-air.
“Let me help you,” he implored, setting the boxers on the bed. Nami gave him a dark look.
“You did help me,” she replied, gathering up the rest of his clothes too. “You helped me make sure that my first time having sex wasn’t with some sycophant who gets his jollies from popping cherries.”
She dumped his clothes onto his lap and put the discarded boxers on the top of the pile. She then began to strip the bed sheets so he had to get up. With an irritated sigh, he finally started putting on his clothes.
Nami took the bed sheets down to the laundry room and started the cycle. She was about to return to her room and drag the blonde’s ass out of her front door regardless of his state of dress when she bumped straight into him, already fully clothed. On silent feet, he’d followed her to the laundry room.
“Why can’t you ask for help?” he asked her, putting his arms around her back and pulling her flush against him. He tried to kiss her again, but she turned her head away.
“I don’t want your help,” she dismissed, pushing against his chest to dislodge him. He only tightened his grip and kissed her ear since it was turned to him.
“Yes you do,” he contradicted. “You want help very badly. But you’ve spent so long pretending that you’re fine and pushing people away that you are frightened by the very idea.”
His words hit so close to home that she felt physical pain. She went to her usual standby when it came to not knowing what to do and lashed out at him.
“Do you want to die that badly?” she half yelled at him. “Because that’s what’ll happen! And I’ll have to watch—and you—and you—”
She stopped pushing against his chest and instead covered her face with her hands. She refused to cry in front of him. She hadn’t cried in front of anyone since she was a child, and she wasn’t breaking that streak now. Especially not in front of some stranger.
But her walls were crumbling. Normally, Nami was good at building walls between herself and other people but the blonde seemed to be good at tearing them down as fast as she built them. All the more reason for him to leave sooner.
“You need to go,” she spoke through her hands, as steadily as she could. “Now.”
He sighed and continued to hold her for a minute before finally letting go. He dragged her hands away from her face long enough to kiss her cheek and turned out of the laundry room. He walked straight to the front door and let himself out.
She didn’t know why she followed him, but if she had to rationalize it, she’d have to put it to making sure he didn’t do something stupid, like linger around the gate of her house to talk to her mother or sister when they came home. But he walked out of the gate and closed it behind him and turned back the way they’d come.
After only a few steps, he turned to look at her. She felt embarrassed, being caught spying after him, but didn’t look away. He gave her a brilliant smile even as she scowled at him.
“Just so you know,” he called to her, “the name’s Sabo. And you can’t stop me from trying to help you.”
He turned and continued on his way down the street.
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Something Worth Dying For