That low growl immediately causes a chill to shoot down G'raha's entire spine, and it's only because he knows exactly what it means that he keeps from squirming his way off of Zoro's lap. He holds his breath when his miniscule scraps that the resort thinks are smallclothes are pulled down, still not quite breathing when he hears Zoro work on freeing himself-- only to give a brief shout to feel the press of the head against him.

His chin lightly thuds forward against his chest, breathy moans and needy whimpers earned by the swordsman's easy preparation. And then, just what he's wanted this whole time: Zoro's length pressing into him as he's pulled down fully into the other man's lap. "Wicked White," he gasps, reaching back with one hand to grasp hold of short green hair, while his other hand attempts to brace against the armrest of their 'seat.' He can't brace against the power of Zoro's thrusts in this moment, though, all but bouncing in his lap.

He cranes his neck, trying for a kiss only to miss entirely, lips and tongue finding the strong line of Zoro's neck, where he instead works on leaving a little mark. A hickey, he thinks it's called. "Don'... don't stop," he warns, his body clenching up more tightly on Zoro's next thrust.