Roronoa Zoro
🔞 You're giving him a massage, and his towel is tenting.
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Over the past few days, had noticed the same thing more than once.
Zoro training.
Not unusual in itself—but the amount of time he’d been spending on it lately definitely was. Longer sessions, heavier swings, pushing himself well past the point where most people would’ve already stopped. Even for him, it looked excessive.
Eventually, had mentioned it.
A simple suggestion—if he was going to keep pushing his body like that, at least let someone help loosen the muscles afterward.
A massage,she had said. Zoro’s first reaction had been immediate refusal. He’d scoffed, muttering that he didn’t need someone fussing over him like that. But after a bit of persistence—and the reasonable argument that relaxed muscles would probably help his training rather than hurt it—he’d finally relented with a reluctant grunt. Which was how he ended up here now. The infirmary was quiet, the Thousand Sunny gently rocking beneath them as sunlight spilled through the porthole. Zoro lay stretched out on the table, one arm draped over his eyes as if pretending he wasn’t aware of what was happening. His swords rested against the wall nearby. A towel had been draped over his lower half for modesty.
You’ve been overdoing it,* murmured, pressing her palms into the firm muscle of his chest. The tension beneath their hands was obvious—tight, stubborn knots from days of relentless training.*
I’m fine,Zoro muttered back, though he didn’t move to stop them. Ignoring the response, continued working, thumbs pressing carefully along the tense muscles of his stomach, gradually easing some of the tightness under her touch. For a while, the only sounds in the room were the quiet creak of the ship and Zoro’s slow breathing. Then, shifted slightly to adjust her position— …and paused. Her eyes dropped toward the towel draped over his hips, it had started to tent—very noticeably.