Warning:
This is Doflamingo's mind that we are diving into. Also, mature content inside. Obviously, there is sex, along with repressed sexual tension and major angst.
I also don't want anyone to be mislead before they continue on. Although there is DoflamingoxCrocodile, there is a hefty amount of one sided DoflamingoxCora.
Doflamingo sat at the edge of his king sized bed, back arched over and elbows leaning against open thighs. The musky smell of sex had died down, but a faint trace of sweat was still lingering in the air. The sheets, his skin, and even the pillows were soaked with the two men's essences so the smell wouldn't entirely go away until one of the servants came and cleaned. Seeing that it would still be a while until one of the maids came, the blonde continued on his silence.
The deep breaths of the other person laying at the other side of his bed gave a rhythm he could focus to. Despite the intense session that they had last night, and his partner's continued slumber was a testament to that, Doflamingo didn't feel the need to turn around and study the other man's face. He knew it well enough. He's seen it almost every day for the past four years. There was a mutual understanding that what they had was not love. It was not intimate. It was just sex. It was an outlet for their primal need to find a release so no, Doflamingo did not gaze into the sleeping face of his lay. Instead, his tired eyes remained on the red carpet beneath his feet.
Dark bags clung below his yellow lashes, but he didn't hide them like he usually did as he was in his private room. His trademark shades remained seated on the dresser.
Morning light, as it was apt to do, seeped into the bedroom walls, and his sensitive eyes narrowed.
A scoff blew from his mouth.
It was 9 A.M.
He could not believe that he still hadn't slept and was stuck on figuring out why he brought the older man home. It was like a riddle to which he knew the answer to, but he did not want to accept the solution. It was simple, but it also said something about himself. Swallowing the truth – now, that was asking him to confess insanity. Not that he was ashamed of what he'd done. It took a lot to make the blonde feel guilty or bad about himself. And the man that he thoroughly made use of – he should be proud of his good taste. The man he brought home was handsome with his square jaw and long black hair to which he took the liberty of pulling every time their skin made contact. It gave him a rush that he could make such a strong and muscular man such as the one lying beside him willingly submit to his power. The low baritone that gave way to wanton moans as he moved his hips made him high and delirious.
"Are you really going to sit there all day?" the low voice asked in back of him. It came out raspy and tired – different from the smooth deepness it usually held.
Doflamingo wasn't surprised that he was finally awake. It had been a long while after all since the man fell asleep, or did time just seem to be going on for much longer since he had been thinking all night? He turned to look back at the well-defined body spread on his bed. Tight muscles exposed themselves nakedly in their olive shaded glory except for the area where the blankets covered between long legs. The display was such a tease, the blonde would have ripped off the offending sheet and started another round on that hidden organ if the older man hadn't moved himself.
A thick hand slid around his waist and slithered down to the inside of his thigh. There was a change of weight distributing towards his end of the bed as the other man got on his knees and draped his frame over the blonde's shoulders. Warm skin stuck to his back while the nubs of nipples pressed against his shoulder blades. A breath blew against his neck as a pair of lips began nibbling under his jaw. Doflamingo's cock twitched at the man's ministrations getting closer, but never touching where the blonde wanted to be touched.
"You keep this up, and you're asking for morning sex," he warned.
The sucking and wandering hands didn't stop and Doflamingo turned around roughly pushing the man on his back. With a bounce, he was immediately on the olive skin nipping a broad chest and groping wherever his fingers could find a spot to cling on. A slight vibration rumbled underneath his lips as he heard the man chuckle amused.
"Can never satisfy that libido of yours, can I?"
Doflamingo let out a smirk. "Just keep up with me, old man."
An annoyed grunt made the blonde smile wider until he found himself being thrown off. With a quick, hard shove, their places were reversed and Doflamingo was on the bottom, his back hitting the headboard. A pair of legs trapped his torso between each other, and he looked up to see the black haired man straddling him.
"You call all of the people you take to bed that? Or are you just trying to kill the mood?"
He ignored the scowl and drank in the sight of the body so close to him.
"No," he drawled as his hands rested lazily on the man's hips. "Just you, Croccy."
He chuckled as the man's lips bent further. If there was anything worse than calling the man his age, it was that pet name. He could not count the many times Crocodile kept on telling him to stop calling him that, but he just couldn't resist seeing the annoyed twitch of his nose making the scar across Crocodile's bridge warp. It was almost endearing.
The blonde brought his face closer, his arms hugging the other's width. Because Crocodile was kneeling with a straight back, his nose nuzzled just above the patch of black hair that was the destination of a prominent happy trail. Doflamingo's nose tickled the sensitive skin as he inhaled the scent of the body he held. Enticed, he began nipping on the flesh taking slow licks of the man's stomach. They had time, and for once, Doflamingo wanted to take it slow. The rest of the day was open to claim as their own and to do what they wanted. If what they pleased was to fuck until the moon came back up again, then that's what they were going to do. And so, they might as well enjoy their time on the bed and draw out every ounce of their pleasure to savor.
Fingers carded through the back of the blonde's skull. The pads massaged sensuously encouraging Doflamingo's mouth to go lower and to use that long tongue even more. Crocodile opened his mouth to whip out a command when the bedroom door suddenly opened.
"Doffy,"
The voice was unmistakable.
Everything stopped abruptly, and the two men turned their heads towards the door. A silence engulfed the sensual mood and replaced it with an awkward revelation. Neither men let go of each other, Doflamingo's arms still caging Crocodile's waist while the older's hand gripped the blonde's head. A pair of blue eyes along with another pair of yellow waited patiently for the intruder to react, but the person was so frozen in their shoes, it was almost comical.
Doflamingo's gaze met with rounded, surprised baby blues. The tinge of green shone just so under the sun penetrating through the silk curtains. It was then, Doflamingo fully accepted his reasons that he had been mulling in their current morning. His lids lowered scanning the blonde standing by the door, his hand on the doorknob.
His stepbrother had truly grown throughout the years. They were almost the same height, though Doflamingo was still an inch or so taller. The lanky frame of his baby brother had finally fit him and looked good in the jeans and white collared shirt he wore. His face had also became sharper and more defined to create a more mature jawline, and the straight yellow hair had turned slightly wavier. The messy strands were not covering his eyes anymore like they used to when they were younger, and Doffy grew on the still innocent eyes. The emotions swirling inside them were making him hard. His own blues were glazing over the confounded expression on Corazon's face.
This was why he brought Crocodile home. He wanted Corazon to see this.
His brother, after a few seconds, finally blinked and looked away as if nothing happened.
"I'll tell the cook to send up breakfast to your room."
The words were said so casually, it was as if the blonde wasn't affected at all. That is, if one ignored the bright red burning at his ears.
Corazon motioned to leave, but Doflamingo stopped him before he could fully close the door. His back was turned to the pair on the bed, but he stood still to show that he was listening.
"Don't bother," Doflamingo said with a sly smile. He tightened his grip on Crocodile's body and with both palms, he squeezed the mounds of the black haired man's ass. "I think that by the time we'll be done, it'd be late enough to go out for an afternoon meal."
The words were blunt – blatant to get their intent across and have the wavy haired teen increase the blood flow rushing to his cheeks. Doflamingo wanted him to turn around and show his flushed face, but not a single muscle of the younger's body turned to obey his wish.
His stepbrother remained still until he murmured a low, "Okay."
Then, the door was shut and hurried footsteps trailed further and further away until they were inaudible.
Doflamingo stared at the door as if he could see through the cherry wood and see his baby brother retreating in embarrassment. Crocodile, noticing his lingering gaze and the odd allure in his eyes, finally connected the dots.
"You're sick, you know that?" he growled disgusted.
Their cocks touching, the older man could feel how hard the blonde had gotten after his brother had left. Doflamingo was full and straining just after being walked in on. Crocodile placed his hands on the blonde's forearms to remove them, but Doflamingo pulled him closer and grazed his teeth along the lines of his upper thigh.
"Stop, bastard," Crocodile wriggled from the tempting nips. "I'm not going to fuck you while you think about your brother."
Doflamingo, ever the self-centered person, ignored the protests and slid into the crack of the older's lower cheeks. His forefinger felt the swollen walls and started to stretch them once more. It went faster than last night as Crocodile's entrance was still loose, and the blonde's digit was swiftly joined by another to scissor their way in. Soon enough, the older man's body gave in. The fingers thrusted faster finding a nice spot while Doflamingo's other hand pulled on Crocodile's cock. Deft fingers played with his sack making the man place his hands against the blonde's shoulders to keep straight.
"You didn't mind before," Doflamingo purred as his thumb rubbed small circles around the head. He did it achingly slow to keep Crocodile wanting more, and for his lust to override how pissed he was. The man blew a heavy breath which touched the back of the blonde's neck.
"I didn't know the one you wanted was your brother. Shit," he hissed when he felt the heat of Doflamingo's mouth surround him. The fingers kept massaging his balls while he was being penetrated from the back. It was as if he was being fucked from inside and out. It took a moment for him to gather enough will power to stop moaning and actually form a coherent sentence. "I wouldn't have agreed," he let out another throaty sound of pleasure. "You're fucking mental. Umgh – !"
He tightened his jaw when Doflamingo scraped a vein with his teeth. There was just enough pressure to cause pain, but an underlying pleasure kept tingling with it. A hit of cold air suddenly surrounded his growing hardness as the blonde slid his mouth off of the man's length, and Crocodile unconsciously bucked trying to retrieve the lost heat. Only focused on why the sucking stopped, it was easy for Doflamingo to topple him to his side and pin his wrists above his head.
Crocodile glared, his defiance strong even as a hand was choking his neck. The vice grip hurt and made it hard to breathe. His chest heaved trying for air, but the blonde on top of him wouldn't remove his hold.
Mad, lustful eyes studied him with a smile.
"I'm crazy, but that's why you always let me do this to you. You like all these things that I do. Tell me that you know someone else that would thoroughly enjoy all the foreplay that we do, hm~?"
Doflamingo dove in, his lips capturing Crocodile's own and biting down to draw blood. The blonde pushed harshly clashing their teeth, then pulled back to softly lick at the wound he caused.
"Besides," he whispered. "I never considered him as my brother. We're not even related. It's just…" there was a slight trail to his sentence as if he was looking for the right words. Doflamingo kissed Crocodile again and slid his tongue in as if it was possible to find the right vocabulary from another's mouth.
"Hm…" he hummed. "It's more fun this way."
Doflamingo knew that he was perceptive and especially bright for a child his age. He could predict the next moves of the people around him like chess pieces on a board that had flashing signs to where his opponent was going to move. It was easy gauging everyone's emotions. Humans, the maids especially, were just so simple minded. They were his play things – that's all they were useful for other than cleaning up his messes. Doflamingo could remember when he would purposefully spill things on the floor right after a servant had already cleaned up the table just so he could see their reaction.
The way their brows would twitch, lips would bend sharply down, and the way hate burned into their eyes – it was amusing to feel such scorn thrown towards him while they knew they couldn't do a single thing to reprimand him. He was the master of the house. They were his things. And his things needed to obey him.
They couldn't change his attitude no matter how much they wanted to try. There were only two people who had slight influence over that, but it wasn't as if he'd turn completely complacent after a scolding or two.
His father, always the busy business tycoon, spent the majority of his time at work so he never saw him act the way he did in the house. There was no parenting from him other than the occasional family dinner meaning that there was a zero chance that his father would try to reform him. Doflamingo would be lucky to catch a glimpse of the man when he returned home after a late day from the office, but other than that, the elder Don Quixote was just a weak presence that existed. He was nothing more. His mother, on the other hand, knew how he was. She knew his personality and how he mocked their help. The woman – the vile, vile woman who he considered the only other living being with a brain – was a spiteful one. He always wondered if she ever loved him based on how she openly scorned him and looked the other way whenever he entered her room. She made it clear that she couldn't stand his existence.
Was she bitter? Did she hate to see the child she gave birth to grow as an incorrigible brat?
But what about the times she told him, "Ti amo." Was that a lie?
His mother was the only one he couldn't figure out.
The days she told him to sit beside her bed in the early mornings, the way she caressed his cheek, or the way she clasped her slender hands above his with the gentlest care – her undestroyed kindness would always baffle him and send his mind in a loop. One day she would be glaring at him with the most ferocious eyes of the iciest blue, but then in a blink of an eye, she would be cradling him like a helpless lamb whilst whispering a lullaby. She was an intelligent woman indeed making him confused like that. He could never stand her love. To his surprise, he would never classify her affections as suffocating. Frustrating, yes, but not terrible. Not unwanted. Before he could fully realize that he was, in fact, goading the woman for her love instead of pushing it away, it happened.
She was the only one. She was the one thing that he wanted to not belong to him, but instead, for her to want him.
Doflamingo, at that time, wondered if there was someone else out there playing with him. The bastard waited for him to develop a want for his mother. They waited for his dislike to fade and slowly turn into something different. It was his fault for letting his feelings evolve. It was his fault. Maybe if he hated her for a little longer, she would've stayed.
Just maybe –
His mother died when he was six due to a severe case of pneumonia. She didn't have a chance, if Doflamingo could describe the severity of her condition optimistically. Bedridden and always coughing, he knew she was going to die. No matter how much his father would cry, not an ounce of emotion seeped into his cold veins to ever feel sorry for either of them because he knew the prognosis. After she died, the Don Quixote mansion became empty, and remained so until that hateful day.
For two years, Doflamingo would walk into her bedroom. The bed sheets on her mattress were always freshly changed every week as if she was still alive. The light from her windows would shine and light the walls in white while a fresh floral scent wafted with the slight breeze. Camellias. That was her favorite flower. It reminded him of her very being. The way she always held her head high and kept her spine regally aligned, the way her long blonde hair would cascade over her shoulders like perfect silk curtains, and the way she would always keep her lips tight to make her pointy chin even sharper – The intensity to which he could recall everything about her made it seem as if she was still there.
Her thin frame would be sitting on the middle of the bed, her legs covered by a blanket, and a book would with be in her hands as she looked outside the window to her left.
Then he would remember her eyes. They were blue, just like his, except the color would somehow glow. It was hard for him to correctly describe what it was, but they glittered when her icy blues softened. It was something his own gaze didn't have. His were just plain cold. Looking into his own eyes was like looking at a barren wasteland made of ice while a nasty blizzard howled in the wind.
He tried sometimes to look into the mirror and replicate the look she had, but they were just too different. His multiple attempts at this were something he didn't want anyone to see. Perhaps it was due to the shame that he couldn't get the look right after so many tries, but when he came –
Doflamingo was eight. He was seven.
And irritating.
Not to mention utterly helpless looking.
Doflamingo had thought that no one else in the world would be able to have the same softness in their eyes, but when his father had dragged him to formally meet with a new woman who was to replace his mother, he met the woman's son. He was shorter than him by half a head and was clinging to his mother's thighs as he hid behind her legs. A futile attempt because his peeks enabled Doflamingo to see him.
The older boy raised his chin scrutinizing.
The boy's hair was longer than his and had bangs which hid his brows. Fitting, since the boy was shy and bit his bottom lip nervously. Little fingers dug into the woman's dress while cold blue eyes looked the boy up and down appraisingly. The older of the two was not impressed with the light blue collared shirt the younger was wearing, sleeves rolled to the elbows. It was wrinkled, as well as the black slacks he was wearing. A pinstripe vest covered the majority of the unflattering lines on his shirt along with a navy tie. Immediately, Doflamingo knew he would not get along with this boy. That? As his stepbrother. He would not allow such a slob to enter his family and take their name.
Their attire was already so completely different. Doflamingo, with his neatly pressed, tailored suit and shining dress shoes, could not see them sharing any interests. He only let the finest of everything come near him, and he wondered what type of annoying personality the boy would have. He glared behind his shades. The fine quality of his clothes tugged at the back of his mind making him note how superb the materials were when they brushed against his legs as he walked behind his father; looking at the other blonde below him just made him feel that much more superior.
Doflamingo studied the pale, chubby face until he came across a big, curious gaze.
His feet suddenly stopped. His father, oblivious to his pause, kept walking towards the other pair as mother and son waited at the bottom of the stairs of the Don Quixote mansion. It was only two more steps till he got to the bottom, but Doflamingo could not bring himself to come any closer. He was rooted to the spot as the innocent irises stared at him.
They watered and shined under the streams of the sun's rays penetrating through the huge, glass window from the top of the stairs.
When both their gazes met, the boy's eyes softened making it look as if they were made of the purest water. Whatever excited emotions swirling through them were unadulterated – genuine. It was the same type of look that he still could not explain, and it made him feel like there was an empty space inside his chest. The emptiness, ever so hollow, made him feel light and heavy at the same time. The thought of running back into his room to get away crossed his mind, but he couldn't bring himself to stop inspecting the baby blue irises. The color matched the boy's shirt, no doubt purposely chosen so by whoever dressed him. Speckles of green tainted the homogeneous purity of the crystal eyes. Again, Doflamingo noticed another set of characteristics that was different from his own.
His uniform, deep blues could not compare to those gentle eyes.
A soft breeze. A cloudless sky. The sea. The iridescent feathers of a humming bird.
Such thoughts came crashing into Doflamingo's mind all at once, and he felt sick to his stomach. He wanted nothing more than to hit the other boy on the face for making his head short circuit, so that's exactly what he did. There was a unified gasp from the adults as they gaped at the smaller boy falling to the floor. A tearful cry broke, and the woman quickly went to her knees to cradle her child. The boy sobbed mercilessly as he touched his bleeding nose. A trail of red liquid dripped all the way down past his lips while a dark pink burned his cheeks. Heavy tracks of tears began to slide down the chubby face.
"Rosinante! Rosinante!" the woman repeated the boy's name as she carded through his hair. Stray strands were combed aside to get a clear sight of his injury.
Doflamingo didn't move as he watched the maternal display. He remained standing and looking down at the other boy, his fist clenched and tingling. It was revolting to see the pathetic shaking and wailing. What did he even have to cry about?
The boy had everything that he didn't have – a mother, those eyes. If the boy was going to use them to stare at him again, he would do more than break his nose.
Needless to say, the meeting his father planned did not continue as scheduled. Doflamingo left to be on his own while Corazon was sent to the hospital to be taken care of. His father and new mother went off somewhere, but he really didn't care enough to find out where.
Despite the success of ruining the first attempt of joining their two families together, he could do nothing to stop his new stepmother and stepbrother from moving in. The woman settled herself in his father's room while Corazon took his mother's old room.
To think that his father would allow a new soul to infiltrate his mother's sacred place. That was her bedroom; that was her space – that was the one room he cherished, but his father seemed to be able to give all that away. That's why he was a buffoon.
The moment Corazon set foot into the bedroom, all of Doflamingo's memories were tainted. His mother's presence was ultimately destroyed and sent to be forgotten. She was gone.
Unable to let the rest of her disappear, Doflamingo took his mother's jewelry and wardrobe and had it moved to another room beside his. That room, he ordered to be locked and to never be opened by anyone except himself.
Those two – Corazon and his mother were intruders. They were ruining everything. She was a whore who was only after his father's money, and her son was at most a half blood. He could tell from the woman's accent that she was French, meaning that, despite Corazon's name, he was not a pure Spaniard. How could they let foreigners infiltrate the upper classes of their country? Frenchmen could not possibly be allowed to have such influence over a home that was not their own.
With building hate, Doflamingo could barely control himself. He hated Corazon. He hated him with such passion, his anger could create a wild flame that was big enough to devour a forest – and maybe perhaps, even himself.
Again, those throaty moans made love to his ears.
Doflamingo was so deep inside and he thrust hard trying to mold himself and Crocodile together. The older man withered below him in pure ecstasy, his muscular arms clinging onto his back. A bead of sweat dripped from his forehead as he maintained their ravenous pace, and Doflamingo cupped Crocodile's cheek.
His fingers traced the high cheek bones while his thumb almost brushed the scar across his nose. Crocodile's skin was rough. A short stubble was starting to grow on the sides of his face, and the texture felt nice as he kissed underneath the edge of the man's jaw. Frantic breaths blew against his skin as Doflamingo nuzzled by Crocodile's ear and closed his eyes.
Everything about the black haired man was so much more mature and defined. Crocodile did not whimper, though Doflamingo tried to make him as he listened to the quick panting, but the man only grunted and moaned. His body did not shake like a virgin either; his experienced hips grinded and moved with the blonde's as if they continually practiced a routine dance.
Doflamingo's tongue darted to the man's jugular tasting sweat. He sucked making the skin tender until he felt a pulse and bit down. The coppery taste of blood mixed into his taste buds as he drew his fangs. He wanted it to hurt; he wanted Crocodile to cry, or at least let out a single lone tear, but instead, the older man dug his nails across the blonde's back to repress the pain.
Displeased that Crocodile was fighting back, he grabbed on to the man's shaft and began stroking frantically trying to elicit the greatest pleasure he could draw out. His movements coordinated with the sounds coming from the older man's mouth until Crocodile's stomach tightened ready for a release. That's when Doflamingo's hand tightened at the base of his cock, and Crocodile let out a hiss.
A stifled groan cut the air as Doflamingo kept on pounding between the man's legs and kept the man from coming. All the while, he rode out his euphoria from the friction of Crocodile's walls.
"Let me… come," Crocodile grunted as he clung onto the blonde. He could not stop fidgeting as the feeling built up inside him while his nerves were still being stimulated.
Doflamingo studied his face and merely stared as Crocodile clamped his eyes shut.
Somehow, that just seemed wrong. The blonde still wanted to see him cry. He wanted tear tracks to be dripping down like a waterfall down to his chin from excitement – from pleasure? From pain? He wasn't really sure what face Corazon would make if he was under him, but he knew that the wavy haired blonde was a cry baby. He always was when they were younger.
Doflamingo tried to imagine it – he thought of Corazon's cheeks tinging pink from exertion and breathing heavily. His hair would be damp with sweat and would be clinging onto his pale skin. The baby blues wouldn't be closed – no, they would be open and looking up at him pleading. They'd be begging. Thick trails of tears would be falling from the pale lashes as his lips would be parted for air.
What would the teen be wishing for?
For him to go harder? For him to go deeper and come inside him so he could feel Doflamingo and his organ probing him?
Corazon would be eighteen soon, and Doflamingo only wanted to teach him how euphoria felt.
The thoughts fueled Doflamingo to quicken his pace, and soon, they were rocking his bed with violent creaks.
He didn't know how it started.
Doflamingo knew that Corazon was being bullied by the other children at school due to his accent. It was still heavy, and he spoke like his whore of a mother. Whenever he saw, he just watched. Deep down, he knew that he had somehow encouraged the others to pick on his stepbrother, and an evil smile would erupt across his face.
Usually, his now sibling won the small fights. Corazon was naturally tall and had longer reach than the other boys so he could land a punch sooner, and a simple hit to the stomach often sent the bullies running. That was disappointing, but the confrontations were usually at most a group of three against one. It was to be expected. Corazon was just a better fighter than most of them, and they would need better tactics to take him down. Slow on the uptake, Doflamingo had to give the other boys a hint about numbers being more effective than meager groups of less than a handful. When the others finally got it, they organized themselves and decided to attack the unsuspecting blonde after school like an angry mob.
Of course, Doflamingo was given the time of when it was going to happen. Making sure to get a front row seat, he waited at the front gates where rumors had said the boys were going to ambush the younger blonde. He crossed his arms ticking down minutes for the show.
At first, it was amusing. When he spotted his younger brother walking out of the school and seeing the bullies hiding behind a wall to jump him, it was truly an epic moment. The look in Corazon's eyes – fear – it was priceless.
Now, although his stepbrother had grown a little taller and was now towering the other children in his grade, he was no match for an unfair match that was six to one. Doflamingo cackled. He laughed as hard and wild like a deranged bird, but after a few prolonged minutes of Corazon lying on the floor as one of the boys kicked him on the stomach, the ordeal was quickly getting repetitive and dull.
His brother was curled into a ball and was shielding his face with upheld arms, but the boys wouldn't stop persisting. When Corazon stopped moving and ceased his yelling, the boys stopped to take a breather and wipe the sweat from their brows. Thinking that the whole thing was of mediocre entertainment based on how one-side the fight was, Doflamingo came out from his spot under a tree and walked closer to inspect the damage. Based on how many fists were landing punches on his brother's body, he was sure that Corazon would be black and blue all over.
Doflamingo made it in two feet from the bloodied blonde until the lifeless body sprung from the ground and threw itself at him. He was taken aback that the boy could still move. The grip on his shirt was strong as if it was clinging for life.
There was a hiccup, and Doflamingo looked down to get a glimpse of the reddened face of his brother.
Corazon was such a crybaby.
Tears were streaming healthily and mixed in with the snot running from his nose. His lip, swollen and cut, was clamped down by teeth as Corazon tried to hold back his sniffling.
Doflamingo made no motion to hold onto his stepbrother to give him balance or comfort. He let the bleeding forehead burrow into his chest as the boy clinging on to him slowly slid to his knees. Corazon could barely stand and he was putting all his effort into keeping his fingers attached to the white uniform shirt.
Pleading, Corazon tilted his head back with great pain to look at his older brother.
Was it the beautifully grotesque red smearing against his skin? The heavy breathing? The discoloring near his eyes due to broken blood vessels that made Corazon look – he looked…
Corazon's hair was a mess due to him rolling on the ground, but Doflamingo wanted to run his hands through them and pull it in all directions to create even more havoc.
Doflamingo, unknowingly, placed his hand on his brother's shoulder, and those eyes – those sparkling, expectant, imploring eyes bore onto him and he had to do something. Despite the fight being his own doing, he glanced up at the group of boys who was looking at him with confused faces. His anger, strong enough to almost be materialized, gripped hard on each boy. Their faces quickly blanched. His glare was sharp. Even under his shades, his anger could be felt and it made the weakest of the bullies cower.
He gently uncurled Corazon's fingers from the hem of his uniform and stalked forward.
There were loud cracking of bones, and the Don Quixote wrath was unleashed on six unknowing victims.
That day, Doflamingo went home and locked himself in his room. He threw himself on the bed and immediately zipped down his pants to bring out his aching cock. He was so hard that it hurt, and he couldn't control his hands. The tip was already leaking, and he brought the width into the palm of his hands to deliver sweet, sweet friction.
He groaned, leaning his head back against the pillows as he stroked himself. He did it fast, aching for orgasm as he closed his eyes. The image of Corazon's sobbing face infiltrated his mind, and Doflamingo's heart raced. He could just feel Corazon clinging onto his shirt, and he teased his own cock. His fingers slowed as his own hand slowly became a younger blonde's, and the feeling of pleasure increased as he imagined Corazon stroking him.
The panicked breathing of his stepbrother's crying were at his ears, but he couldn't process that the sounds were not from lust.
He just looked so good when his eyes were red, and the baby blues would be wide and shining from tears. They were looking straight at him with need. Corazon needed him.
A long breath escaped his chest as he came. White squirted into his own hand and his blankets, and he reveled in the post orgasm.
Tongues were intertwining, and he had already came once. He still hadn't let Crocodile get his release, but he knows that the older man would be too overcome with pleasure once he was finally allowed to let it all go. He kept on slamming his hips, and his hardened organ slid in and out of Crocodile's tight entrance. The man was squeezing him inside as Crocodile used his muscles to torture the blonde from what he was depriving him of. It was torture, the way the older man gripped his shaft, but it also rubbed him in all the right places.
Doflamingo's dilemma didn't go further than taking care of himself whenever he felt the urge. Since he lived and went to school with his stepbrother, those times occurred more often than he honestly wanted.
There was always the thrill of telling Corazon about his fantasies – about how he got off when he would see a glimpse of his body, any inch of skin really, or about his thoughts of stripping the younger teen in one of the classrooms and fucking him senseless. He wanted to make a mess of Corazon. He wanted him to cry and curl uncontrollably with sheer pleasure while he came inside of him. But most of all, he wanted him to wail in confession about how much he loved Doflamingo's cock – in his mouth and from behind.
The image of the teen's head bobbing up and down between his legs was his favorite of the most erotic scenarios he came up with in his head. The pseudo sensation of soft, soft flesh trying to consume his length gave him chills. He'd be more than glad to grab the back of Corazon's head and force it down to get the vibrations as he deep throated his cock.
Yes, Corazon's mouth would be so deliciously good.
Would he make him swallow? Or would he pull out before he reached his peak so he could stain those pink lips with strings of white?
This was his final year of secondary school, and yet, he still wondered how the younger blonde's lips would taste like. He had a hunch that it would be like licking ash. Corazon had developed the habit of smoking, and he did it frequently between lunch breaks. When school was over, the teen would wander off to be a chimney somewhere as he explored the city alone, or in rarer occasions, with a couple of friends. But then again, the blonde would pop some breath mints now and then to keep the most nagging teachers off his case.
So would he taste like fresh wind instead?
"You demented bastard."
The two of them were laying on the bed exhausted. His chest was still rising deeply from finishing.
The croc sounded like he wanted to smother him with a pillow and stop his breathing, but he successfully evaded the killer gaze by not looking at the older man. He keeps his eyes on the ceiling, thinking. The trickles of sweat slide down the sides of his body and from his temple, and it feels good. The cold air hits his skin, and it feels colder than it really is. Calming down from post orgasm, Doflamingo's heart is racing.
His mind is filled with what it's usually haunted with.
Crocodile, knowing that he isn't listening to what he's saying, just growls and frowns at him. He knows what he's thinking about, and it just makes the man even more disgusted with him. Doflamingo doesn't care. He just focuses on his heartbeat. Two words slip in the form of a whisper.
"Mi Corazon."
He flips to his side facing the body next to him. He sees a broad back, his partner decidedly angry that he wasn't worth looking at. Dolfamingo ignores it – when does he not? – and wraps a heavy arm around the man's waist. He starts kissing the back of Crocodile's neck eliciting an annoyed grunt. His tongue doesn't stop, and he slides it inside Crocodile's ear and starts sucking at his earlobe.
"Another round?"
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