First fic! Well, first fic for OP… Crocodile is my favorite character, and he doesn't have much literature compared to other characters on this site… so here we go! Crocodile/Doflamingo, warning for some intense situations because they're intense guys! Enjoy~
~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.
Crocodile stepped out of the shower, steam escaping the room and fogging up the mirror as water coursed from his body onto the wooden floor. He took a moment to enjoy the cool, salty air on his wet skin before grabbing his towel and beginning to dry off.
He had always hated taking showers… the water felt like dry, bitter wind cutting into his flesh, and when he was finished he was sluggish and weak with dizziness. Standing under the water stream for even more than five minutes resulted in nausea and pain that made him feel like his body was splitting apart at the seams, bursting under its own weight at every scar that traced his skin. Drying off with the thick pink towel helped, of course, but he begrudgingly recognized that he would surely be lethargic for the next hour or so until his skin dried back out completely.
As he passed through the bathroom, his right hand alone in wrapping the towel around his waist, he stopped only for a moment to glance at himself in the mirror. He couldn't see himself clearly yet for the steam, but he could make out his shape: a thin waist, taut, muscular chest, with scars that laced themselves over each indentation like the endless tunnels of an ant farm. Broad shoulders, thick neck, and a face that was split in half by another scar, thick and disruptive with stitch lines that made it look like a toothy smile was stretched across the bridge of his nose and cheekbones. Black hair that hung wetly in front of his bored, sleepless eyes, a brow that furrowed upwards in the middle of its own accord.
Ugh, he was getting old.
Crocodile staggered from the steamy bathroom. He reached out his left hand to steady himself, and the hook landed solidly on the doorway with a metal clang, the tip easily puncturing the planked wall. A small voice at the back of his head begged desperately for his hand to be returned, but the rest of him pushed the childish notion back to the trench from which it came – he refused to feel sorry for himself. He was happy to let that part of him die. He would more than gladly give more than his other hand if it meant drawing more power from this wretched world.
Water puddles followed him as he crossed the quarters, allowing the towel to drop from his waist and leave him bare as he collapsed on his back onto the bed in exhaustion. That same small, rebellious voice viciously cursed the Devil Fruit that made him feel this way, made the sand in him stagnant and brittle. Was the endless expanse of sea surrounding him not enough of a threat, that now he had to worry about daily cleanliness? As he got older, what other normal walks of life would make him feel like dying?
"You look absolutely pathetic."
Crocodile hadn't seen the man when he'd exited the shower and crossed the room, but his presence didn't surprise him in the slightest. A younger version of him would have balked at anyone seeing him in this state of weakness, much less when he wasn't dressed, but he found that nowadays he didn't find enough room in his thoughts to care much. "Come over here and say that," he growled lowly, a warning that would only be given once. He might not feel up to a fight, but he could still kick someone's ass if they weren't careful.
Doflamingo responded with only an eerie, obnoxious laugh from where he sat on the high back of the captain's chair, gangly legs and arms supporting him in a series of angular knots as his shoulders hunched over him like the wings of a vulture. "Don't forget whose ship you're on, Croc," he replied in a bright tone, and although he was out of sight, he was clearly smiling ear to ear, those sunglasses trained on him and only him. "I wonder how much sicker you would be if I threw you overboard into the ocean?"
Answering with only a grouchy grunt, Crocodile slowly sat up and sat on the edge of the bed, reaching to where a fresh cigar and lighter sat on the nightstand. Deftly, after years of practice, he held the cigar in his mouth in between his pinky and ring finger, then fired up the lighter with his remaining fingers with a metallic click; a few puffs through the side of his mouth, and he took a long, pensive drag before exhaling the sweet smoke to linger in the air. Do it, you mangy saltlick. I'll take you down with me.
"Oh, why did you move? I was just starting to enjoy the view." A creak of wood sounded as Doflamingo eased off of his perch, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his giant, pink feathered coat as he stalked towards where the other sat. The layer of haze was disrupted the closer he came.
Crocodile slicked his hair back out of his face so he could see Doflamingo at least out of his peripherals, a surge of hatred deep in his chest making him feel blood-thirsty. "When I agreed to team up at Marineford, I didn't intend for you to treat me like some cute boyfriend," the man growled in his deep, sandy tone, words only slightly altered from being spoken around his cigar. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you right here for showing me such disrespect."
Doflamingo sneered with his toothy smile and stopped right in front of the warlord. "Because you can barely walk, much less fight. And I wouldn't attack a dog when he's lame. It's unbecoming for someone of my talent."
A heated reply came frothing up from every dark place in his body and burned his tongue, but somehow, Crocodile was able to keep the remark to himself. Chomping his teeth down harder into his cigar in frustration, he finally inclined his head upwards enough to glower at the man who stood before him, and though the man wore sunglasses he knew they were making eye contact. He knew that the collaboration was a good idea in theory – between the two of them, they were a nearly unstoppable force that could easily rule the Old and New Worlds – but when two hungry, powerful beasts meet at a kill, only one will prevail. Crocodile might not have the strength to fight now, but if he was patient, bided his time, eventually this beast would become complacent, and he could have his chance to spill his blood and win it all. There was nothing else keeping him from being the superpower that he knew he was.
After a moment, once the silence between them had been given its chance to fester, Crocodile stood and, however weak he felt, managed to straighten to his full height in front of the other man. Even though he was almost a full two feet shorter, he made himself quite an imposing presence. Cigar clenched between his left canines, he leaned closer still, lifting his cold, golden hook to catch the lapel of the man's white, unbuttoned shirt in its point. "You can't underestimate a lame dog. They still have teeth."
Doflamingo didn't move away from the hook, instead leaning over Crocodile with his stretched grin and raising a hand to the man's mouth. His fingers were cold, spidery things, and they made the man's skin crawl as his index pulled the side of Crocodile's lower lip down to reveal his teeth that held the cigar steadfast. The taller man craned his neck to look at them, as if he were a professional and this was his patient… he raised his eyebrows above the dark lenses of his sunglasses and clucked his tongue. "Eh, not sharp… who're you fooling?" he cooed lowly. "You're not that scary." Doflamingo's hand traveled to the back of the warlord's head and buried itself in his black, wet hair, caressing so gently for a few teasing seconds before applying a firm pull. Crocodile's head was forced back and he gritted his teeth as the taller man ran his tongue from his scarred, pale collarbone, along the length of his indented jugular vein, all the way to his sharp, bold jaw.
He was stirred, but this only served to irritate him further, and as Doflamingo's intentions grew more intimate Crocodile found himself growling out of spite rather than pleasure. He worked hard to disguise this, though; if he gave away his own violent intent, they would be forced into a confrontation that he would surely lose. Deciding to deal with this sick fuck in a manner that pleased both of them, Crocodile shook loose of the hand that gripped his hair, ripped the cigar from his mouth and pressed the lit end hard onto the tanned skin on his new business partner's chest.
The thing sizzled as it cooked through the first several layers of the man's skin, but no other reaction was expressed from Doflamingo… he did nothing to relieve the pain of the burn but leaned further into it, causing the abominable hiss to grow louder before finally the embers were extinguished. Through the pain that sent spasms through his muscles, his grin stretched even wider still, and a laugh left his lungs in excited bursts. "Hey, that's good," Doflamingo purred, in his crazed tone the shrieks of passion and hurt that culminated in sadistic arousal. "That's what I'm talking about. Bite me and show me how scary you are, Croc!"
"You need to stop talking," Crocodile snarled, exhaling a final mouthful of smoke before grabbing a fistful of Doflamingo's feathery coat and casting it carelessly onto the floor. The scent of burnt flesh and ashes drained the air of freshness, and it summoned barbarism from deep within him. He was still feeling light-headed and nauseated from the shower, but the hate in his soul at least warmed the sands in his skin as he aggressively pinned the taller man to the wooden cabin wall and began to devour him.
I'll show you how scary I am, partner.
When my time presents itself…
… I will rip your fucking throat out.