the stars have all gone | v

You watched the gap of moonlight in the entryway for the first sign of your lover's return, sprawled comfortably on the four-poster bed miraculously sourced at Crocodile's command. Two weeks ago, he flew out of your arms when the watchman of the shipping vessel you were guests on shouted out that a Navy fleet had your destination surrounded, and now the two of you lived together, on land. It'd be almost domestic if you had more than flaps of fabric and a few yards of open air separating you from your nearest neighbors.

Your neighbors weren't home either. Daz's tent being nearby was a comfort, Dracule Mihawk's… could be, but you knew they were with Crocodile in the big top to address Buggy's print job, the fliers that spread across the world before anyone realized. You excused yourself at the same time as Alvida, who looked quite bored with her poor co-captain's fate. You really thought it was all resolved with Mihawk's solution, but neither of the two executives budged, and your main thought was how strong the emperor's hair must be to take such abuse.

Crocodile's hook pulled the tent flap back before the rest of him followed, carried by a billow of sand. You didn't say anything, but watched him enter with his cufflinks already undone and cravat in hand. He seemed lost in thought and you loathed to startle him until he was in bed, but to your surprise, he laid on his side, showing you his absurdly broad back. For several minutes, his silhouette expanded and contracted with steady, deep breaths, like he was trying to induce sleep with little success. You bit your lip.

"Sir?"

After a beat, he grunted in response.

"Do you feel better?" Not are you alright, because you knew he was too proud to be.

A different grunt. You were getting better at telling them apart; this one was something like "a little," or "maybe."

Cautiously, you shuffled closer to him, trying to be loud and obvious as possible. Now that you shared a proper bed—one too tall for you, really—you knew he preferred to sleep on his back and didn't dissuade you from touching him, especially if you were just intimate, but you thought that had to do with his being able to see his surroundings. You exhaled onto his skin before nudging between his shoulder blades with your forehead.

"You don't seem like it."

Sure, he wasn't spitting mad or chomping on a cigar, but he hadn't been so distant from you since the night you met. Which was recent, of course. But you were foolishly confident you knew how your relationship was supposed to be, and this wasn't it. He didn't react to your little headbutt, so you dragged yourself closer and snaked your arm under his elbow. He caught your hand in his and seemed to inspect it in the dark.

"Don't patronize me," he said finally, tightly, but free of malice.

"It's not like you to show your back to an enemy."

He huffed. "Enemy, huh?" He pulled your hand to his sternum so you hugged him.

"Yup."

"I knew it." But he stroked his thumb over your knuckles, and you could practically hear him think, like he said about you. That was his excuse initiating most things: to quiet that brain of yours, before fucking you dumb and tired and boneless, and it really did work like a charm.

"The word humiliation," he'd said, "doesn't even begin to describe this feeling."

You kissed his shoulder. You couldn't think of words that felt right, so you kicked the sheets and the quilt from your flat down the bed and used your hand on his chest to direct him onto his back.

"What are you—"

"Let me."

Crocodile leaned back in the pillows with a disgruntled sigh. You pecked a chaste kiss onto his frown, which didn't budge, so you kissed him again again and again, peppering a few along his jaw and then chest as you moved down his large body. You weren't terribly surprised to see a slight tent in his boxers, and grinned to yourself. You kissed him over the fabric and took a deep breath before you said, "Buwaya?"

"What?" His voice sounded tight.

"Can I say something you might not appreciate?"

He grunted, which you took as assent.

"I think you like playing with Buggy." You pushed the waistband down and wet your lips as he sprang free. "I think you're nicer to me than you want to be." You kissed the base of his cock as you took it into your hand, looking up at him through your lashes.

Crocodile glared at the ceiling like he was embarrassed, and he grit his teeth when he caught your eye. "Nice?" His large hand rested on your head before he seized your hair near the roots, sharper than he usually did, and you whimpered against him, elated. "You're the first to accuse me of that."

You smiled and licked up his length, tracing your tongue along one delicious vein you knew well. He was hardening rapidly, and you suspected he stayed away willing himself to calm down, maybe walked the perimeter of the campgrounds a few times before coming to bed.

"You don't need to hide from me, either." You kissed his balls, laving them wetly before sucking one into your mouth, and he hissed.

"That's—different—"

You released him with a pop. "How?" You were glad he caught your word choice, the same thing he said to you before you ran away with him. "It's hardly fair, hmm? And you do care about fairness. Debts and all." With that, you kissed his cock one last time before taking the tip into your mouth.

You'd only tried this once en route to Karai Bari, and it'd been so frenzied and desperate at the end of a day spent mostly apart that he grew impatient and pulled you up to ride him instead, though now you wondered how much of that was disguised concern. Seeing him let loose today, you now knew he handled you with far more care than anyone would suspect. You really couldn't take much, the stretch of your lips around him strenuous enough, but breathed deep through your nose to try. Crocodile grunted above you, realizing what you were up to. "If you're doing this because—shit—because you're jealous of a damn clown—"

You rolled your eyes theatrically so he couldn't miss it, slurping around his tip with your lips as you backed off. "I happen to like Buggy. I think he's funny."

His fingers against your scalp firmed up again. "You talk too much," he muttered, and pushed your head back down.

Somehow, the act let you relax even more, and you gagged as he hit the back of your throat for the first time. Your eyes welled at the pain, but the weight of his hand discouraged you from pulling off for air, so you focused on breathing, savoring the smell and taste of his skin. You reflexively swallowed the little bit of precum sliding downward, earning an unrestrained groan and a pet to your head.

"Easy, bird," he murmured, and you hummed around him, more warming him there than anything. He was more than okay with sleeping while inside you, so you savored it, not knowing if or when this would happen next as you grew accustomed to breathing like this. Then you started moving again, letting your uncomfortably tight throat work on his tip while you squeezed and stroked the substantial length you couldn't fit with your dominant hand. His grip on your hair wasn't tight at all; he let you control the pace entirely, and you loved him for it, or your standards were wretchedly low.

You pulled off for air and blinked tears out of your eyes you looked up at him, rubbing your face against him like a housecat. "Am I doing well, sir?"

He chuckled, dark and rich. "You've been holding out on me."

You frowned. "You wouldn't let me!"

"Details." He combed his fingers through your hair. "You don't have to keep going."

"You're baiting me," you muttered before moving to lick him into your mouth again.

"Woman, is it so strange to think I actually don't want to break you?"

Oh.

You frowned and sat up. "Yes, it is."

Crocodile huffed and pulled you toward him by your elbow so you laid solidly against his chest and torso, nowhere near his dick unless you wanted to try a footjob at this angle. You laid your ear on his sternum and waited for him to elaborate.

"I don't know if your Magician hurt you, or neglected you, or you're afraid of me, or all of those combined," he said tightly, "but you'd be sensible to be afraid of me. So I—" He inhaled, and grimaced. "I promise I will do my best to keep you safe from me."

"I'm afraid of any pirate of your caliber, yeah," you hedged, uncomfortable with his seriousness as you drummed your fingers along one pectoral. "But you've never scared me in bed."

"Because you have delusions of grandeur worthy of a toy dog."

"Excuse me? I thought I was a bird."

"You're tiny," Crocodile bit out, clearly frustrated. "You should be with someone like Hawk-Eye."

"He's still tall."

"See, Mihawk and tall are incomprehensible to me."

You smacked his chest lightly. "This is the stupidest reason you could possibly be blueballing yourself right now."

"I'm fine." Your eyes narrowed, and you searched around with your foot to find him softer than before, though you felt that vein twitch with interest. Maybe later, you thought.

"And how's that supposed to make me feel?"

"I can't help having self-control."

You grumbled and stretched your arm across his broad chest, moving your head to his shoulder, and he held you in turn. "Buggy's shorter than Mihawk, you know. If it's about matching size." You'd mentioned only once that Daz was the same height as Hawkins, and Crocodile's gaze flicked between the two of you at dinner that night with an unreadable weight.

"You're mine," he said simply, like it was nothing. "So I'm particular about who I want to share you with."

Your heartbeat quickened, and your hold around him tightened. "Share?"

He swallowed. "If you want."

"Do you want me to share you, too?"

"If you want," he said again. "If I have time."

"Hmm. You're a busy man," you conceded. "And there's a lot of you…" You traced his cock with the ball of your foot, and he winced.

"Crass woman."

"Pirate," you reminded him. "I didn't realize sex was such a chore."

"Until recently."

Fuck. He needed to stop saying such vulnerable things, or they'd start pouring out of you, too. "Would you want to watch, or participate, or…?"

"Watch. Both. Either."

You bit your lip. "Well, I wouldn't feel right without you involved, and since you're so opinionated…" You hoped you wouldn't regret asking. "Who do you have in mind?"

"Hawk-Eye," he answered quickly, as you suspected. Honestly, you'd caught Crocodile studying his fellow Warlord's profile a bit too long sometimes, and your theory about Buggy held more water than ever now. If this was your lover's way of exploring his own attractions, you were happy to play along.

"You already have me sparring with Daz," you said. "And I like Alvida."

"Really." He tried to pretend Buggy's Delivery didn't exist.

"And Buggy."

He groaned. "Why?"

"I like his hair. It's so healthy, and you yank on it. Meanie."

"I've been called worse."

"So how come you're the only one who gets to play with him?"

Crocodile tugged the roots of your hair gently so you'd look at him. "Does my little bird have a sadist streak, too?"

You hummed, almost like a purr. You had a smart retort ready when—

"You're made for me." You stilled. "Like you're a spy. A trick." This was where his suspicious nature won or lost, and you died or lived, and the grip he had on your hair aroused something other than fear in you. "But I believe you entirely."

"I have nothing to hide," you said quietly.

"And that makes you dangerous."

With that, he slanted a dry kiss onto your lips, so rarely initiated by him and only possible in bed like this, before he cradled your head against his chest. You sighed. "I like you, you know."

"I suspected."

"Let me think about it some more," you said. "Let's be like this a little longer. And then…"

"And then?"

"We'll see."