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Doffy had been counting the days until the next summit of the Warlords: Months dwindled down to weeks, then days, and now here she was, only a few hours away from port, sailing in open waters. It was not as if there was any pressing official business, no: Lady Doflamingo was counting down the time until the meeting was adjourned. Then, the real fun could begin. Once the meeting was finally over, another opportunity to whet her obsession, to satisfy her undying infatuation would present itself.
There was an uncharacteristic flutter in the pit of Lady Doflamingo's stomach as she stepped off the boat, knowing that the last time she had seen Madame Crocodile it had altered the trajectory of what they could possibly be. Now that their last tryst hung in the air between them, cutting through the years of tension and bickering, how would today go? Would Madame be warmer towards her, perhaps? Or, worst-case scenario: would she be cold, unfeeling, simply in denial about what had sparked between them the last time they had collided? She had never felt this uneasy about a lover… Or whatever this nebulous connection was, her and Madame Crocodile.
It felt like a negative harbinger when Madame sat across from Lady Doflamingo at the table, already sunken into her notepad and playing aloof. Behind her glasses, Doflamingo seared her gaze into the downturned forehead of Madame Crocodile, begging for the other woman to lift her chin and shoot her a glance. The others at the table could sense the tension; Mihawk turned to whisper something to Madame, which only elicited a smirk, the sight of her cheeks dimpling and only a hint of that smarmy grin visible from Doflamingo's angle. The others whispered among themselves, and suddenly Lady Doflamingo had felt smaller than she had in a very long time. It seemed that everyone was anticipating what would brew between these two today. Withholding and stoic, Madame Crocodile sat still and paid the other woman little mind.
That is, until the meeting officially began, and the Lady felt the trace of a stiletto heel up her calf.
The sadistic little bitch waited until the meeting started. This must be to distract me. It’s just a ruse, so I don’t listen. Doflamingo thought to herself.
Every stroke against Doflamingo's leg distracted her further, a proverbial jolt of electricity travelling up her leg each time. There was still this unshakeable feeling that this was simply an act of manipulation, something that would persuade Doflamingo to turn away from some disadvantageous deal that the other Warlords were discussing. However, Doflamingo's mind was far too muddled to think about such strategies. Each time she felt Madame's shoe caress against her bare calf underneath the table, her train of thought would wash away, turning to white-hot nothingness behind her eyes.
Doffy also noticed how since the meeting began, Madame had finally turned her chin up to face the woman across from her, that little smile still upturned across her mouth. She was subtle, looking back occasionally at her notepad and scribbling down something here and there, an attempt to appear fully alert as Moria droned on beside them.
There was a wordless exchange between them for the remainder of the meeting, all morse code in flickering glances and toe-taps underneath the table. Once the cohort of officials were all dismissed from the meeting, it was only Doflamingo and Crocodile who remained in the meeting room.
“What the fuck was that?” Doflamingo asked, raggedly and impatient.
“What?” responded the other woman, coyly, as she slowly began to gather her things from the tabletop to throw into her black leather satchel.
“You know what. You were trying to distract me through the entire meeting. What do you have planned? I can only assume this was an attempt to throw me off the scent of whatever Moria was discussing. Let me see your notes,” Lady Doflamingo lunged for the bag in an attempt to fish Crocodile's legal pad out of the open top.
“No,” Madame said, clutching her bag to her chest.
“Then I'll assume that whatever was happening under the table was an attempt to sabotage me. So tell me, what was Moria discussing that was so important to make me miss?”
“Moria never discusses anything important, and you know that,” Madame scoffs as she rises to her feet.
“So what then? You were just-”
Before Doflamingo could finish her interrogation, the other woman swept herself into the wind, that pesky fucking party trick of hers. Looking around to where she could possibly land, Lady Doflamingo found herself caught entirely off-guard when the weight of Madame's gilded hook landed on her left shoulder. In a blink of an eye, the tricky minx was behind her.
“I was just having a little fun, that is all. Don't you like to have a little fun yourself, my lady?”
Tobacco, myrrh, and sandalwood danced around in the air between them as Madame leaned in closer, tracing the other woman's sharp jawline with a firm touch. Madame's fingertips were not buttery-soft like many of the maidens that had passed through the proverbial doors of Lady Doflamingo's love life; instead, the dry grooves of the other woman's fingerprints felt coarse against Lady Doflamingo's face. Despite the stark contrast to her own meticulously pampered skin, all pumped up with lotions and serums (and a bit of filler, of course, here and there,) Madame's touch still felt heavenly, mind-melting with every second it lingered.
Lady Doflamingo did not want to fold so easily this time. She did not want to be left as the begging and desperate party, the way she felt she had been when they had last been entangled. Tight-lipped and frozen in her seat, Lady Doflamingo stays resolute in her attempt to seem unmoved by Madame Crocodile's charms.
This attempt, unfortunately, is cut short as the Madame's hand travels down Doflamingo's arm, her nimble fingers flickering through the downy layers of the Lady's favorite coat. In her periphery, Lady Doflamingo savored the sight of this woman flirtatiously petting her mantle, trying her best not to fawn despite the mounting forwardness of Madame Crocodile.
“You are being quite uncharacteristically quiet today. A lot on your mind?” Madame purrs, fingertips curled in the bundles of feathers at Doflamingo's elbow. The warmth of the other woman pressed into Doflamingo's aching back was continuing to jumble her thoughts, only able to muster up a faint response:
“Something along those lines. I came here for business, you know,”
“We both did. But don't lie to yourself…” With that teasing lilt in her raspy voice, Madame's hand starts to travel towards the center of Doflamingo's torso.
As the Lady's breath hitches, still paralyzed in her seat under the other woman's grasp, a dusky melodic whisper hits her eardrums once more:
“You were hoping to have a little pleasure on this trip as well, were you not?”
Doflamingo hesitates to speak, a pithy whimper escaping from her mouth as Madame's hand travels across her chest. The weakness that just escaped from her stony facade felt embarrassing, and in an attempt to shake off her nerves she clears her throat. More resolute now in her tone, Doflamingo protests beneath the ever-firmer grasp of her counterpart:
“I don't need to beg for scraps from a short, fat, old woman. Play your games with somebody else.”
Instead of the anticipated bristling, Crocodile’s embrace wraps around Lady Doflamingo deeper. Her hand, trailing carefully across the embroidery of the other woman’s white linen shirt, traces careful circles over the thin fabric of the Lady's blouse. Braless, it took nearly nothing for her chest to bud at Madame's touch.
“The Lady doth protest too much,” Crocodile snickers, chin tucked in the pocket between Doflamingo's shoulder and neck.
“I don't want you to think of me as weak…” the blonde said, flushed as pink as her coat.
“I don’t think it’s weak. It’s cute,” the smaller woman says before nipping Doflamingo’s earlobe, mere millimeters away from her hoop earrings.
“I don’t want to be cute,” Doffy retorts.
“Too bad. It is cute to watch somebody act so feisty, and yet fold beneath my weight like this,” the side of Doflamingo’s face fell numb with lust as Crocodile suckled at her earlobe, the slight tug of her teeth at the Lady’s earrings sending a jolt through the crossed wires in her brain.
There it was- the pleasure that could come from the pain. Was it not in the agony she bore each moment she spent away from Crocodile, somehow hoping for a droning Warlord meeting to bring them together once more? Lady Doflamingo was flagellating herself with this entanglement, and she knew it.
There were only so many moments like this, and here she was, trying to remain dishonestly cool in the face of everything she had anticipated from the next time the two of them would be in the same room together. With a crackling voice, Lady Doflamingo pleas:
“Come back to my ship. Please.”
The two of them found themselves folded on top of each other once more on Doflamingo’s sprawling bed, not before Madame got in a few digs about Doflamingo's interior design.
“This bedspread is hideous. Can you actually fall asleep with something so loud on top of you?” Crocodile pokes at the velvety red duvet draped across Doflamingo’s bed.
“It’s cozy. And it’s my room.”
“I can tell,” Madame says, disdain on her face as she pushes aside a leopard-print pillow.
“I don’t like how you’re looking at my stuffed animals.”
Madame Crocodile was staring down the collection of teddy bears, plush flamingos, fluffy kittens, and other little toys Doffy had accumulated on her ship.
“How infantile. Are you not only a few years younger than I?”
“You didn’t say anything the last time, that’s all,” Doffy huffs, taking one of her prized flamingos away from the judgemental glare of the other woman.
“I did not see all of this the last time!” Crocodile says before carelessly flopping down into the pile of plush.
“Careful! Some of those are… Special.” Doffy says, feeling belittled once more by this woman who was still, despite it all, driving her fucking insane.
Turning towards the headboard, one of the errant toys catches Crocodile’s fancy. She pushes it her way with her hook, gently, then grabs it with her other hand by its spiny green back.
“I recognize this animal... A crocodile? Hm?”
“That’s not one of the special ones,” Doflamingo lied.
“I don’t know…” curling her fingers around the sides of the crocodile, Madame holds it closer to her, inspecting it deeper.
Anxiously, Doffy thinks about the embarrassing span of nights she had her arms wrapped around that very toy.
“... You know how some stuffed animals start to look weathered with love? This one certainly does.” Crocodile chuckles, placing the toy on her chest and stroking its head as if it was an actual pet.
“Whatever. I don’t care. You can have it, you clearly seem to like it more than me,” Doffy was unsure if she wanted the other woman to take her up on this offer or not. Undoubtedly, the prospect of the toy changing hands, being in Crocodile's arms for its next string of countless nights, made her feel some type of way.
“I didn’t come to adopt a little friend, Doffy,” Crocodile says, plucking the doll and tossing it off of her.
“Yeah, you know, I thought you came back here with me, well… To do literally anything but judge my decor,” an impatience runs through Doffy’s tone as she shifts on the bed.
“Oh, I know. But once again,” Crocodile leans forward, plucking the flamingo that Doffy had been cuddling out of her hands.
“It is so much fun to watch a woman like you soften up like this. Not cute, you say?” with a pouty expression, Crocodile makes the plush bird playfully dance about in her grasp before tossing it aside with the reptile she’d been messing with before.
“I didn't get to have many toys or dolls after my family left Mariejois, Crocodile. It's a little luxury. For me,” Doflamingo protested, now more flush with humiliation than any other emotion.
Crocodile took pause, a more serious grimace turning on her face as she looked away for a moment from the other woman.
“I'm sorry I mocked it, then. It is endearing, you know. Makes it easy to buy gifts for you,” Madame said, pushing herself towards Doflamingo.
“I'm not a cheap date like that. I'm particular about my plush.”
This was half-true. Each and every one of these was finely crafted, with their own story. She only sought after the highest-quality, softest plush of her favorite kinds of animals. Of course, she had kept some of Sugar's creations around too, just in the palace back home. It felt unsettling to place any of those on the bed. Sugar's powers made Doffy look at toys very differently; seeing too much of a human soul in some of them. She would hate to have Madame get her something too inadvertently uncanny.
“You know, I get a lot of special little knick-knacks shipped in for my casino…”
“It's hard to explain,” Doffy said, firmly.
In one last attempt at deflection, Doflamingo deftly wrapped a thread around the other woman's hook, tugging until the tautness pulled Crocodile into her lean muscled chest.
“Were you not the one who just told me you weren't here to talk about toys?” Doffy said, cloyingly.
Crocodile laughs under her breath, leaning forward to kiss the other woman until she's laid prone. Straddling the cinched waist of the blonde, Madame lets herself be snared by the hook, other hand unbuttoning the loose breezy shirt of the woman beneath her. Doflamingo’s hips buck against the gravity of Madame above her, hands traveling to either side of the beautiful curves that the elegant woman had wrapped up in a pencil skirt this afternoon.
“I love skirts like these, darling.” Doflamingo says, still with a breathy, resilient tone in an attempt to regain some dominance.
The other woman only hums in response before pushing down for another kiss.
“... Easy to just… Slide up…” Doflamingo says, shimmying the charcoal grey garment up to Crocodile’s waist.
Her emotions roiled beneath the heat of Madame, the frenzy behind every kiss as her hand traveled to unbutton Doffy’s slacks. She shuddered as the other woman’s grasp traveled through the thick golden wisps trailing down between her legs. Pent-up and shaky, Doflamingo found herself trying to shimmy off her bottoms against the persistent leg-hold of the other woman.
Nodding her head, Madame clutches the sides of the other woman with her thighs and teases:
“Aht aht. Not yet. I get to decide when these come off. It’s fun to watch you squirm. Maybe I did come here to get a new toy for myself, hm?”
“I’m not just something you can tease at your whims…” Doflamingo whined, weakly.
“On the contrary. I think I remember you showing me quite the little act of devotion last time we’d met, hm?”
Doflamingo’s mind traveled briefly back to their first encounter, the way she had laid herself so bare for this woman. Here and now, it felt so cruel to be teased like this. Her long acrylics dug deeper into Madame’s thighs. When Madame paused and looked down at the tears growing in her stockings, Doffy expected an outburst of frustration. However, it was quite the opposite:
“Go ahead. Tear them off. I can tell you want to. You've already ruined them. Might as well.”
"You know, I can also fix them. Afterwards, with my devil fruit powers..." Doffy said, trying to be a little showy.
"Where's the fun in that?" Madame said before sinking in for another kiss.
Eschewing any humility, Doflamingo bares into the thighs of Madame’s tights, tearing neatly at the runs she had placed across the thin weaving of the garment. Lady Doflamingo worked the contours of the tear towards the soft flesh between Madame's legs.
“I want to taste you,” Doflamingo said, thumbs tracing the crease of Madame’s inner thigh.
With little hesitation, Madame turned in her seat, Doffy aghast beneath her as Madame’s legs straddled the sides of her face.
Madame smelled… Real. Not like the whores who would squirt that cheap, fake perfume up their skirts in desperation before entering Doflamingo’s bedchambers. Before even letting her tongue leave her lips, Doflamingo took in the smell of her lover, fingers curling across the top of Crocodile’s thighs.
Teasing the crease of Madame’s lips with the edge of her tongue, the Lady finally felt the satisfaction of Crocodile weakening at her whims, for what felt like the first time today. Hips sinking into the cheeks of her lover, Crocodile groans as Doffy circles around her entrance, the feeling of her slick sticking to the remaining strands of nylon hugging her bottom half.
Madame Crocodile’s groans were a bellowing, low vocalization reverberating downwards, through the other woman's body. Slowly, trying not to overwhelm Madame in any haste, Doffy continues to circle her tongue until she feels a quaking in Crocodile’s legs, that particular uptick in her voice that told Doffy it had been too much, to pull back. To tease her: Bring the Madame to the edge, feel the jiggle of this little thing’s supple curves above her face. Lady Doflamingo finally felt under complete control of the object of her infatuation. Doffy curled her hips up towards the other woman as she leaned over, that single strong hand traveling into the Lady’s opened slacks once more.
With every moan that Doflamingo let reverberate between Madame’s thighs, the two of them relished the mutual pleasure; Crocodile’s fingers traveling deeper into the underwear Doffy had tossed on this morning from her disorganized drawer of candy-colored lacy thongs. She was powerless to Crocodile’s teasing, the weight of her pressing down firmer as she shimmied off Doflamingo’s bottoms. The slight cool sting of the Madame’s prosthetic made the Lady shiver in anticipation of what would follow, but the reality was underwhelming:
“Such ugly underthings. They look cheap,” with little resistance, Madame snaps the paltry string of Doflamingo’s underwear with one tug of her hook. The blonde bleats in resistance, but Madame only grinds her hips deeper into her face at the sound, enjoying the sensation of the guttural protests.
In careful strokes, Crocodile’s fingers travel between the folds of Doflamingo’s vulva, teasing her, letting her fingers slip deeper every other stroke.
“The more I make you feel good, the better I will. Quid pro quo…” Crocodile quips, legs tightening as the rhythm of her hand paces faster, finding this stimulation would keep her precious plaything ticking.
Doflamingo could not help but think of this offhanded comment, how well they could work together if only given the proper circumstances.
Maybe, all she could do was this, show her devotion in the moments they were dealt. Feeling the friction of Crocodile’s legs against her heating up, Doffy digs her tongue deeper into Crocodile’s folds. The frenzied passion and gravity of her lover made Lady Doflamingo dizzy, whining faintly against the circles of Crocodile's hips.
Commanding even in her saccharine moans, Madame Crocodile's hand stopped, too overwhelmed by the way Doffy's long, muscled tongue worked against her. Palm planted on Doflamingo's stomach, breathy pleas of don't stop leaving her lips, only punctuated by more involuntary outbursts that demonstrated just how pertinent it was not to stop. Not to slow down. Steady in her pace, Doffy's tongue feels the release of her lover on top of her with one final curl of her mouth. The throaty near-scream that punctuates Crocodile's climax echoes through the ostentatious bedroom.
Madame Crocodile leans forward, and as the Lady beneath her catches her breath, the smaller woman crawls across the taut abdominals of the blonde. Fatigued and powerlessly pent-up, Doffy studies how her lover's hips wag, still glistening wet between her legs as she leans her head downwards between Doffy's thighs.
Blood rushes to the Lady's head in overwhelm: Her view, the sensation of Madame's mouth working against her now… She could nearly pass out, only able to elicit paltry laughter from her body as she trembled. In her dizziness, Lady Doffy could barely articulate how she was feeling. She didn't need to: the way her body jolted up every time Madame's lips suckled at her, how she'd melt and squirm at the strokes of Madame's tongue said enough.
Doflamingo got the aching feeling that leaving her speechless was part of the enjoyment Crocodile got from these trysts, seeing the Lady laid so bare and breathless from her adoration and affection. The other woman seemed to care very little for Doflamingo outwardly, and yet in private moments like this, it felt undeniable that something deeper tied them together. There was a chemistry that, for some reason in Crocodile's world, had to be obfuscated.
Not wanting to let her trailing thoughts ruin this encounter, Doflamingo recenters, noticing how Crocodile's pace had slowed above her:
“Something on your mind again? You really have been so distant all day, my dear.” Crocodile says, a genuine concern breaking through her voice. Madame stayed planted atop Doffy, but had started to gingerly caress the top of her thigh, pausing the throes of passion at the feeling that Miss Donquixote’s thoughts currently laid elsewhere.
“Nothing.. Please… Don't stop, why did you stop… Fuck…” a marked frustration painted Doflamingo's reply, concerned that her circling insecurities would sabotage this.
“You seemed… Distracted. One moment, you were, well…” Crocodile traces one finger close to Doffy's vulva again, a demonstration of just how heated the Lady still was.
“... But then, you went silent. I thought perhaps, you had gotten bored, or I was doing something you did not like.”
“No, I just… I just want to enjoy this. Please, please…” maniacism starts to tint Doffy's hunger.
All the waiting. All the teasing. It could not culminate to this point just to crumble.
Just as Doflamingo started to wither at the thought she had self-sabotaged with her own broken brain, Crocodile leaned over once more, her tongue working in the same steady pace, a hum of satisfaction buzzing against Doflamingo that made her redden. As her arousal mounts, Doffy grabs at the sides of Madame, her buttocks still squarely across from the Lady's face. In overwhelm, she doesn't know what to do- spank, grope, spread her wide and keep taking in the view?
Doffy curses under her breath, nails digging into the softened cellulite of the woman atop her. The soft, thick tongue of the other woman felt more and more divine between her legs. She begs for release in one last weakened groan, and the Madame grants it, pressing into the Lady's legs as if to stifle the seismic involuntary movements that follow.
Madame Crocodile sits back, resting on top of Doflamingo's torso calmly. Both of them breathless, Doffy studies the soft pale back of her lover, how the deep raven-violet hair splayed out onto her broad shoulders.
“Every single part of you is so beautiful, Madame,” a compliment punctuated with Doffy's fingers tracing the sides of the smaller woman's frame.
Under her touch, Doflamingo could feel the shift beginning to happen. Inevitable detachment. A cooling down from the other woman that always felt so cutting.
“Take a picture. It'll last longer,” Madame barks, swinging her leg off of the other woman and starting to get dressed in an unnecessary amount of haste.
“Next time I'll keep a camera by the bed, then. Don't tempt me,” Doflamingo snickers.
“Nice one. Like I didn't already worry you had something hidden in this secret army you keep on your bed.” Madame shoots back, pointing towards the plush pile.
Cocking her brow, Madame Crocodile lunges for the green scaly companion that she had picked up earlier.
“I'm taking this one. She's mine now.”
“Hey…” Doffy says in contrived protest. Still exhausted and feeling faint, she did not care if her lover took a little trophy.
“... Fine. But treat her well. She is weathered with love already, after all.”
With a smile, one that felt more golden and warm than the teasing crooked grins that she'd shot in Doflamingo's direction all day, Madame Crocodile takes her leave.
“I will treat her with the utmost care. Until next time, princess.”
A quick peck on the strong bridge of Doflamingo's nose, and with that, their unofficial after-meeting had adjourned.
Doflamingo decides that day, as she flops around in the wake of it all on her bed, that she will never, ever be satisfied with how these days end.