Chapter Text
“I’m proud of you. For telling me. Thank you for trusting me.” Crocodile’s brain hurt. It was all fuzzy, like it was stuffed full of cotton. He wasn’t sure what to do with Dragon’s words. If he should even do anything. All he knew was that it felt good. Really good. And that he ached. He ached with want. Here he was, stuck wanting something he couldn't have. This was just how Dragon was, it didn’t mean anything.
Yeah, that’s all this was. Dragon being Dragon. Dragon the gentleman. Dragon the Nice Guy. It didn’t mean a thing. It couldn't.
___
When Crocodile wandered into his place, Mihawk was propped against the footboard of his bed, hip popped and one leg sticking out of his silk robe. He already had a goblet of wine in his hands and a raised brow.
“You were out late.” And by that, he meant that Crocodile spent the night somewhere and he wanted to know exactly where.
“Didn’t mean to.”
“If you say so.”
“I told Dragon.”
“That you’re in love with him.” No. No he didn’t do that. Fucking Mihawk, with his fucking goddamn sparkle in his eye and everything.
“About the diagnosis.”
Mihawk’s sparkle burnt out, fizzling, crashing, and burning. “You told him. And he took it well.”
“Yeah. Yeah, he did. I don’t…I don’t know why. ” Mihawk didn’t respond, opting to swirl his wine glass and take a sip. “You think it’s because he’s in love with me.” He eyed Crocodile over the rim of his glass.
Crocodile scoffed and shook his head, shuffling out of his shoes and throwing himself down on his bed. He needed a nap. A nap and to forget about last night. He couldn't handle it, it was all too much.What had he been thinking, trusting Dragon with his diagnosis? With that precious piece of crazy? What was he thinking going over there and hoping Dragon would, what? Confess to him all over again after weeks upon weeks of nothing from him?
He ignored Mihawk’s inquiry about homework and his subsequent sigh when he was met with stubborn silence, dedicated on throwing himself his own personal pity party of lo–liking a man he couldn’t have.
___
Dragon was at a loss. He was utterly confused, lost, and hopelessly in love with a man that drove him crazy. Crazy in the absolute best and worst ways. He drove Dragon wild with his body, his mind, his very being. Every part of him entranced Dragon, enrapturing and enchanting him/ He was a man possessed, possessed with thoughts of only him. Only Crocodile.
He tried to stop thinking about him–he really did. He tried when they were fucking, after he confessed his love to Crocodile– before he confessed his love to Crocodile, after Crocodile stormed out, when he’d been in a damn drought of the man, when he’d seen him in the bar that one night, during his walk home, and even whileCrocodile was actively sleeping in the room over from Dragon.
It never worked. He never got Crocodile out of his damn head. He’d laid in bed that night, limbs splayed and eyes wide open, staring up at the ceiling. Crocodile was in his home. Crocodile was in his home again jesus christ he was there. He was really there. After all that time, Crocodile came back. He hadn’t lost him and he came back.
And now here he was, once again without the man he’d been obsessing over since they first kissed. Crocodile might think it was his body that got Dragon hooked. The curves and cunt–in Crocodile’s words–or even the bountiful bouncing breasts he did his best to hide. But it wasn’t. It wasn’t even the sex that sealed the deal for him. It was the kiss. The singular kiss they’d first shared, bodies pressed together put lips slightly hesitant. It was that hesitance that intrigued Dragon. Like it was asking for something more, something different. Dragon would kill to be that difference. To provide that little something Crocodile might be looking for.
He’d almost given up on it–given up on Crocodile and lived with the man in his head rent free for the rest of his single, miserable life. But then he’d shown up. He’d shown up at his door–or rather, right outside his apartment–and they’d had a night together.
And you know what? They didn’t even sleep together. Not even once. No, they’d laugh and enjoyed their night. Hell, Crocodile had willingly cuddled up next to him and he’d told him shit. Like actual, real life, serious, personal shit .
Dragon thought he’d never see the day. Not in this lifetime at least. But no, Crocodile had bared his soul and cried his eyes out…and then fallen asleep. And that, out of everything unexpected that happened that night, got Dragon the most. Crocodile felt safe in his home. Safe enough to invite himself over, to share something personal and scary, and to fall asleep peacefully.
Dragon had barely slept that night, but he hadn’t heard Crocodile stir. No mumblings, murmurs, twitches or flailing. Nothing on the coffee table was out of place, and his blankets were still firmly and gently placed over his shoulder. He’d slept soundly and for that, Dragon couldn’t be more grateful.
That and the fact that he was clean. Crocodile. Clean. As in sober. He never thought he’d see the day. The sun was low in the sky, painting everything in a rich golden, amber light. A lot like Crocodile’s eyes. Dragon sighed like a blushing maiden, waiting in her tower for her charming prince to rescue her. Except he wasn’t a blushing maiden, nor was Crocodile exactly charming or a prince. And Dragon certainly wasn’t in need of rescuing. And yet…he sighed.
Another night alone. His friends busy and the love of his life who knows where, Dragon settled on the couch with trashy TV and a bottle of beer. Half way through his bottle, the apartment’s buzzer rang.
___
Crocodile wasn’t horny. Not even slightly. He wasn’t horny and he didn’t want to fuck. But his body…it needed it . So he ignored Mihawk’s knowing glance trailing him out the door and slunk over to Dragon’s apartment. He was freshly showered, no trace of alcohol or anything else on him or his clothes. No reason for Dragon to turn him away. It wasn’t like they’d done this before. Countless times even.
He hit the buzzer. And waited. He hated the fucking waiting.
“Yes?”
Dragon. “It’s me. Let me up.” Short and sweet. Truth was, Crocodile’s body was burning for something and it was only getting worse the closer he got to the possible solution. His skin crawled with the need for it, tight and uncomfortable where it stretched across his skin. He ached for it, needed it. Felt like he’d die without it. They’d done this before, it’d all work out. Crocodile would get his fix, Dragon would get his kisses, and they’d part ways both happier than a lark.
There was a moment of silence. Crocodile’s heart froze. Fuck, he fucked it. Fucked it all up with his pitiful admission and sickening truth. Dragon knew now. Knew how fucked he was in the head. Knew how crazy he was, how insane and psychotic. He’d call the nearest asylum and get him locked in solitary, alone, without sunlight, and most importantly, without Dragon. He’d never–
Bzzt. The gate clicked open and Crocodile swung the door open, quickly shoving his spiralling thoughts deep down along with the embarrassment that accompanied them. He shuffled into the dingy, old apartment building, pet the cat as he jogged up the steps, and slid to a stop before Dragon’s door with a shaky sigh.
The fuck was wrong with him? They’d done this before. Fucking millions of times. So what was the fucking problem?
Crocodile raised his hand to knock when the door flew open. Dragon looked mildly breathless, cheeks slightly flushed and eyes sparkling. He knew what he wanted, what he needed . What his body was burning , screaming , begging for.
He stared at Dragon with wide eyes, lips agape just slightly. His mouth was dry, dry and sandy. He wanted. He needed. He needed him. Crocodile threw himself forward, crashing their lips together and pushing Dragon in the apartment. Crocodile kicked the door closed and twirled them around, slamming Dragon against the wood.
“F–mmh–fuck, Croc–mmh– ocodile! ”
“Less talking.” He managed to mumble out against Dragon’s lips, hands searching and sliding under clothes, pulling at shirts and fumbling with buttons. “More this.”
His body switched to automatic, going through the motions to just get close to get together . He stepped back to slide his own shirt off before diving right back in to nip and suck at Dragon’s mouth, lapping and pressing–all teeth and tongue. Dragon joined in happily, pulse quickening under Crocodile’s touch. Dragon’s hands joined the collision of bodies, searching and exploring skin, slipping under the waistband of Crocodile’s jeans and playing with the hem of his compression top–yet never dipping under the tight fabric. That was a boundary Dragon never crossed.
A hand crept up Crocodile’s back, sliding up his neck and winding itself into his hair. Dragon tugged slightly, guiding Crocodile’s head here and there, back and to the side. Crocodile moaned into the kiss, lapping into Dragon’s mouth and nipping at his lips impatiently. It wasn’t enough. He needed more.
“Bed.” He mumbled between nips.
Dragon nodded against him and slid his hands to cup his ass, patting once to tell him to hop up. Crocodile jumped and Dragon caught him, walking them back to the bedroom and laying Crocodile down on the bed. He shifted his hips, grinding up and searching for friction. Pulling Dragon down to meet his hips and give him something to grind on, Crocodile trapped his body with his legs, pinning him in place.
Dragon moaned and ground down, fumbling with his own zipper and then going for Crocodile’s. He pressed another kiss to Crocodile’s lips, lapped into his mouth, and managed to pull back, hands on the hem of his jeans.
“Can I?”
Crocodile bit his lip in response, muffling a whine as he wiggled his hips and lifted them. Dragon shucked off Crocodile’s pants before stripping his own.
“ Fuck…” Dragon breathed into his mouth and palmed himself before pressing in and grinding his dick into Crocodile’s clothes sex. Crocodile muffled another whine and ground into Dragon, hard, hot, and heavy. His breathing picked up, chest heaving and tight from where it was constricted by his binder.
He wanted it off, just once. Just once, he wanted it off so he could breathe, so he could feel skin in skin for once. To feel close and cared for, valued, cherished and accepted. He huffed at the injustice of it all. Dragon’s chest was bare. He could rub and heave and feel skin on skin to his heart’s content. So why couldn't Crocodile?
Because you don't want to be a girl. His own brain whispered and hissed traitorously. He wasn't. But sometimes….some people think he is, especially when the binder comes off. They grip and grab, bite and suck, claiming what isn't theirs and calling him princess, and girlie, little bird, bitch, and whore.
Maybe it would be different with Dragon…you trusted him with your crazy, trust him with this.
This voice was different, it didn’t hiss or bite, didn't growl or sneer. No, this voice seemed sincere. Sincere and honest. Sincere and honest like he had been before. Before, when he whispered his secrets, his psychosis and insanity.
He thought about it, stripping it off and breathing free. But it choked him, the mere thought of it–creeping up his chest and wrapping around his neck, squeezing tight, suffocating and going for the kill.
Gentle, needy hands brought him back, lifting the snakey vines from his neck and swiping up warmed skin and cupping his jaw. Another hand wrapped around his hip, running down his thigh and gripping it firmly, pressing his hips into Crocodile’s center roughly. Crocodile groaned in relief, the friction just right to give him something . But it wasn’t enough. He needed more. He needed–needed–
Dragon trailed kisses down his front, slipping his hands up his thigh and down his sides until both met at his hips. He captured Crocodile’s boxers in his teeth and glanced up in question, a spark in his eyes. Crocodile threw lifted his hips and threw his head back in anticipation, getting comfortable for what he knew was coming, legs already starting to clench.
After Dragon had pulled his boxers down and off, he trailed kisses back up his leg, peppering his skin with his lips and sucking red marks into the insides of his thighs. He slowly crept up Crocodile’s skin, switching from one leg to the other until he reached his folds, breathing in deeply, lapping his tongue up his slit, and sucking Crocodile’s clit into his mouth, giving it a swirl with his tongue. Crocodile gasped, hot pleasure jolting through him. He clenched his legs, thighs snapping closed around Dragon’s head.
Dragon only hummed and continued devouring him, lapping, sucking and fucking into Crocodile’s hole with his tongue. He nipped, swirled, and sucked at his dick, doing whatever he could to get Crocodile to break silence.
It was a game Crocodile suspected Dragon played around the third time they slept together–what could Dragon do to get Crocodile screaming. So far, it hadn’t been too successful. Sure, he’d loosened his control on his gasps, groans, and moans, even let himself mutter some words and Dragon’s name here and there but mostly, mostly he kept quiet.
It did feel good though. Fuck did it feel good. Crocodile hummed and closed his eyes, taking in the pleasure with hitching breaths. Dragon knew how to use his tongue, that was for sure. He knew how to get to work.
Crocodile’s hand drifted down to fist itself in Dragon’s hair, moving the man exactly where he wanted him.
Eventually, two fingers slipped up near his folds, pressing in and massaging Crocodile’s walls, searching for that gummy, little sp– there. Fuck, right there…right there, that felt so fucking good.
“Yeah, like that? Tell me how much you like that.”
Oh that little smug prick. Crocodile hadn’t meant to say anything out loud but with Dragon’s fingers pressing into that spot just right again, and again, and again and his mouth sucking and twisting on his clit, he really stood no chance. His thighs shook and trembled around Dragon’s smirking face as he dove back in–mostly courtesy of Crocodile’s hand and insistence.
Dragon kept pushing, rubbing, sucking, licking, nipping, and lapping at his center, luring and coaxing him slowly but surely to the edge bit by bit. He was right there , legs quivering, stomach clenched and chest stuttering–but it wasn’t enough. He still wanted.
Crocodile squirmed and pulled Dragon up by his hair, yanking hard. The man looked wrecked, face soaked with slick and eyes fogged over. That must be his happy place, between my legs, right where he belongs. That voice was…unpleasant. It was cruel, cold, narcissistic and possessive. It sounded a lot like Doffy. Crocodile hated it.
Fingers pulled out and firmly in his mouth, he moaned lewdly, eyes searching to meet Crocodile’s and– jesus fuck he coudn’t look at that. That was too much.
“Hurry up, need you in me.” Crocodile huffed breathlessly, pretending to be irritated. And really, he was. As good as Dragon’s oral had felt, it wasn’t right. Wasn’t what he wanted.
Dragon shucked off his boxers as Crocodile resituated himself further up on the bed. Dragon crawled up on the bed, sliding on top of Crocodile and hiking a leg up around his hips. “Like this?”
Crocodile shifted his hips in response, sighing huffily, yanking him in for a kiss.
Dragon chuckled into his mouth and lined himself up, slipping the head of his dick inside Crocodile’s folds with ease. Pushing past that tight rim, Crocodile’s breath hitched at the stretch. A twinge jolted through him and Crocodile frowned. It had been…too long. Too long since he’d fucked Dragon. And Dragon’s dick…was bigger than what he had been taking recently. Not that Dragon needed to know that.
Or that he needed to know Crocodile hadn’t fucked anyone–not even Mihawk–in two weeks. He needed to be stretched longer, needed more fingers, more slick. Dragon’s pre and spit with his own wetness wasn’t enough right now. It usually was. It just wasn’t right . Wasn’t what he needed.
Dragon groaned on top of him, head buried in his neck as Crocodile’s hole clenched around him. He breathed through the stretch as quietly as he could, grateful Dragon was taking it slow and letting him adjust. Dragon ground into him, thrusting shallowly to get them both used to the feeling.
Fuck, he had missed Dragon. Missed his mouth, his body, his cock, him, his very being. He missed him. Dragon hoisted Crocodile’s hips further up, trying to find the right angle again, that spot and– there.
Right there….
“There? Yeah? Feel good?” Dragon pressed a kiss to his lips and breathed him in, one hand cupping his cheek while the other held his hips up.
“Shut up…”
“You’re the one talking, love.”
Love. Love. That was new. And Crocodile…he didn’t hate it. Not as much as he should have. The second thing was…apparently he was talking. Talking. Already. He wasn’t even feeling it, not yet at least.
Dragon pressed kisses into his neck, sucking harshly before lapping apologetically to soothe the reddened skin. Crocodile hummed in pleasure. It felt good, it really did, but it….wasn't quite what he wanted. What he needed.
Maybe if… Dragon drew out to the top and slowly slipped back in, dick hard as a fucking rock and hot as hell, fucking into him slowly but firmly and hitting that spot just right.
Crocodile threw his head back, half from pleasure, half from frustration. This wasn't what he wanted. Wasn't what he needed.
“Fuck…fuck you feel so good, love. Feel so fucking good. So tight…so warm….god…” Dragon pressed kisses up his neck and shoulders, showering him with little nips, sucks, and laps of his tongue.
Everything Crocodile liked.
Except…he didn't like it. Not right now. He didn't dislike it, he just….didn't really want it. He wanted something else. Dragon ran his hand down to his side and up again to caress his cheek. It was all very…sweet. And this time, this time Crocodile didn't hate it like he usually did. He didn't find it repulsive or sappy. In fact, he couldn't even find it in himself to pretend it was.
Maybe if his compression top was off. Maybe that would help. Get that skin contact he'd been craving. Chest on chest, sticky skin on sticky skin, slick slide of sweat on sweat.
Crocodile pushed Dragon up and wrestled to shimmy his hands under the binder, squirming until it started to roll up. Dragon’s hands came over to rest on Crocodile’s pausing his movement.
“Crocodile…you don't–”
“Just help me get it off, need it off.”
Dragon looked him over, worried frown cutting through pleasure, but he helped Crocodile take it off, folding up the end to slip it off rather than Crocodile’s usual ripping fling.
His heart stopped at the realization of what he'd just done. Chest open to the air, Dragon could do anything, anything at all. He could squeeze and grip, yank and twist, fuck and use as fucking handholds. He–he could–
He rubbed his ribs, tight fabric leaving red marks in his skin as usual. Thumbs swiped at the indented skin and Dragon lowered himself to press a gentle kiss to Crocodile’s lips, completely ignoring his chest. And yet, skin to skin, it felt wonderful. Dragon slid his hands under Crocodile’s back, lifting him up and shifting back on his ass to balance Crocodile on top of him. He ran his hands over his shoulder blades, up and down smooth, fabric imprinted skin. Pawing at his bare back, Dragon captured his mouth in a deep kiss, chaste for their position, Dragon’s dick grinding up into Crocodile’s hole.
Dragon leant him back again, holding him up by his back and thrusting in and out, in, out, in, out, and in once more before laying him down again.
“Fuck Crocodile…so good. You're so good…”
Crocodile didn't say anything.
The thrusting stopped. Dragon was still, halting his hips and moving his head back to look at Crocodile. That drew his attention again, eyes meeting Dragon’s. Dark brown fought it's way through a haze of pleasure to manage to look concerned.
Dragon lowered Crocodile’s hips slowly, dick still buried deep inside. His other hand came up to cup the other cheek.
“What's wrong?”
“You stopped, that's what.”
Dragon hummed. “No. That's not it.” He took Crocodile in, eyes roaming his face and torso. “Something wrong, what is it?”
“You fucking stopped.” Crocodile needed this. He needed it, what part of that did Dragon not understand? He lifted his hips, moving himself on Dragon’s cock before the other man stopped him with a firm hand around his hip. “Dragon I–”
“Don't want this.” He finished for him. “You don't want this, do you?”
“No, I need it, please, Dragon I need–need–”
“I know what you need.” He pulled back, slipping out of Crocodile’s hole and rubbing his hips soothingly. “Give me a moment.” Dragon grabbed his pants and headed to the bathroom, leaving Crocodile high and dry on the bed, tits out on full display. He tried not to feel self conscious. It really wasn't fucking working. He shouldn't have taken his top off, why the fuck had he done that?
Dragon returned a few moments later, cock soft and boxers on but no sweatpants. He grabbed Crocodile’s and tossed them at him, warmed damp cloth in the other hand. Moving to spread Crocodile’s legs apart, he gently wiped him down, cleaning up fluids and sweat before tossing it in the corner.
Crocodile was reeling, confused as to why the fuck Dragon had stopped. Why he'd pulled out, what he'd noticed, and why he'd bothered cleaning Crocodile up when he'd barely done anything for him in return. Dragon looped Crocodile’s boxers over his feet, sliding them up to his knees when Crocodile finally came back to himself, slipping his boxers over his hips. Dragon crawled up behind him and wrapped him arms around him.
Crocodile frowned and squirmed. He wanted, needed something and this–this wasn't it. Couldn't be it. What the fuck did Dragon think he was doing?
“Let me take care of you, let me give you what you need.”
What he needed? The fuck did Dragon know about that?
He looped his arms around Crocodile, pressing skin against skin. Crocodile went to cover his chest, arms wrapped around himself awkwardly.
“C’mere, c’mere love.”
Crocodile’s eyes narrowed, but he didn't have the energy or desire to yell at him. Dragon pulled him in, pressing chest to chest and playing with the strand of hair on Crocodile’s bare back. One hand stroked up and down, the other playing with hair at the base of his neck now, running his hands through the long dyed strands.
Crocodile’s chest melted, body slowly untensing. Dragon wasn't gripping at him, wasn't clawing or consuming. He was just holding, pressing him close and tangling their legs together. Dragon pressed a kiss to his head and squeezed him in tighter. It felt…nice. Felt nice to be held. Relief coursed through him, he hadn't wanted anything in him, nothing touching him like that, he just wanted touch.
And somehow…somehow he knew , Dragon knew. He always fucking knew. He didn't pry, didn't force, didn't conveniently fall into pleasure and stop hearing him, he knew and he respected that. Respected what Crocodile didn't even fucking know.
This was right. This was what he needed.