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Buggy, as the resident expert on such matters, felt strongly that birthdays should involve fewer responsibilities and less business, not more.
In fact, Buggy’s ideal number of non-party-related tasks of any kind on a birthday was zero. The birthday didn’t even have to be Buggy’s. He was a good captain who supported his crew, and anyone’s birthday, from his chiefs of staff to the cabin boy whose name he absolutely remembered, was an occasion to kick up his feet, open some booze, and leave his cares for tomorrow. It stood to reason that the birthday of one of his illustrious co-leaders should be especially sacrosanct. No business allowed.
So when September crept around and Buggy stole a peek at Crocodile’s calendar for purposes of party planning, he was dismayed to find the page marked September 5th already filled up with bulleted tasks in the bold black ink of Crocodile’s fountain pen.
“What could be that important?” Buggy had exclaimed to a nonplussed Crocodile over the breakfast table, arms waving.
“Nothing much,” said Crocodile, not even looking up from his paper. “Monitoring Marine activity. Maintaining our supply chains. Clawing us out of the debts your antics have piled on us.”
“You didn’t even save time for birthday sex!”
“Of course there’s time for sex. My entire evening is uncommitted, as usual.”
“Probably because you plan to spend it locked in your office reorganizing your stationery collection, you absolute psychopath.”
Mihawk inserted himself between the two of them to place a bowl of cut fruit on the table. He tutted at Buggy. “I thought you were adamant that birthdays are for doing whatever one feels like.”
“Yeah, but like, fun stuff!”
“Your idea of ‘fun’ involves giving me a migraine,” said Crocodile.
“Nooo–Croccy,” Buggy pleaded. “Mihawk, make him listen!”
“Hush,” said Mihawk. “It’s his choice. I’m sure there will be plenty of time for whatever celebrations you’d like to foist upon us.”
Buggy humphed and might have thrown a tantrum if there hadn’t been too much delicious breakfast waiting in front of him. Instead he ate, grumbling with every bite, and gave one extra loud grumble when Crocodile finally rose, kissed him on the head, and left for work.
September 5th arrived with the smell of bubbling, perfectly seasoned tomato sauce. Crocodile and Buggy sat at the table in Mihawk’s kitchen while Mihawk dished out bowls of shakshuka and plates of toasted homemade bread. Buggy’s shakshuka, prepared in a separate, smaller pot, featured a green sauce in lieu of tomato, since even on Crocodile’s birthday Buggy couldn’t bring himself to touch the stuff.
For a man with roughly nine hours of meetings ahead of him, Crocodile looked as close to blissfully content as Buggy had ever seen him. He’d spent his birthday morning with Daz and had strolled into the kitchen with a placid smile on his face, his shirt buttoned and cravat tied perfectly. Only a few wisps of loose hair around his face rendered his appearance less than immaculate: Daz’s quiet way of leaving a mark. Buggy had witnessed Crocodile and Daz fucking exactly once, when Crocodile had tied Buggy up and forced him to watch, and to this day the memory of it produced a blush that had Buggy’s cheeks matching his nose. Buggy had to avert his eyes and focus intently on his food while Crocodile kissed Mihawk in greeting.
“You’re not gonna miss the party later, right?” Buggy asked Crocodile for about the fifth time after they were all seated, speaking around his mouthful of toast.
“It’s on the schedule,” said Crocodile.
“Or the sex.”
“That’s there as well.”
“Yeah, but I just know you’re gonna end up working late!”
“Silly Clown, he said it’s on the schedule. Do you not expect your Sir to keep his appointments?” Mihawk chided.
Of course Buggy knew he would. It was maybe even a little bit hot how professional Crocodile was, handling business not just as the treasurer of Cross Guild but as the breadwinner of their little trio. Hot except for the part where Crocodile actually had to spend time doing all of that stuff, instead of tending to his partners’ more immediate physical needs.
“Who do you have to see today, anyway?” Buggy asked Crocodile. “And do they have any idea it’s your birthday? Can’t they just wait until tomorrow?”
“Not if you want food on our tables and weapons on our ships,” said Crocodile. He dabbed his lips with his napkin and finished the last of his coffee. “I’ll see you later, little fool,” he said, and he gave Buggy his usual kiss and strolled out the door.
Buggy spent the rest of the morning working with Mihawk to assemble the cake. Crocodile, after much prodding, had requested tiramisu as his birthday dessert, but Buggy insisted that a cake was necessary as well. (“You can’t have a birthday without cake! Besides, he’s a big guy and it’s a big party, of course you need more than one dessert!”) And so there was a cake: two layers of rich-but-not-too-sweet chocolate, covered in an espresso-laced chocolate buttercream and garnished with shavings of more dark chocolate.
“Ta-da,” Buggy sang as he placed the final flourish atop the cake: a perfect white rose. The monochromatic look wasn’t what Buggy would have gone for, but Mihawk said that Crocodile liked white flowers. Mihawk’s lips quirked upward in the tiniest smile of approval at the sight of the finished cake and Buggy beamed.
Later in the afternoon, when all the food for the party was prepped and the decorations (purple, green, and gold) were hung, Buggy said to Mihawk for maybe the sixth time, “Hey, can you come help me convince Crocodile to take a break??”
Mihawk, like all the previous times, frowned and said, “No, fool. You know he asked not to be disturbed.”
“Well, I’m gonna go. He’s not gonna be in any shape to party if he works himself to death like usual.”
“Better you than me,” said Mihawk, but he didn’t stop Buggy as he set off for Crocodile’s office.
Crocodile in fact had three offices. The first was his private study down the hall from their bedrooms. The second and largest was in the main tent, where he received guests who had business with the Cross Guild. The third was also private, connected to the main office by a side door, and mostly housed various files and charts and supplies. What none of the guests knew - which Buggy often giggled to himself about - was that the main office saw plenty of private use as well. The same plush sofa and heavy wooden doors that kept business meetings comfy and confidential were handy for lots of other activities as well.
The office doors were closed when Buggy arrived. He stood pouting outside, debating whether to knock or barge in or just turn around now before he got himself in trouble.
Before he could make up his mind, the doors swung open on their own. Crocodile stood behind them, looming over Buggy with a frown.
“Croccy–hi–!” Buggy sputtered.
Crocodile raised his brows at Buggy. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m–uh, here to rescue you from your next boring work meeting!”
“Clown.”
“Working on your birthday is bad for your health!”
“No.”
“You can’t refuse me, I’m the Emperor!”
Before Crocodile could respond, the sound of footsteps echoed up the hall behind them. Buggy swung around to see two guards escorting Crocodile’s next client to the office.
The guest seemed to be a woman. A hot woman. Her black patent leather heels clicked firm and even against the wood floor of the hall. A chartreuse silk slip dress with a thigh-high slit swished around her muscular legs with every step. She towered over the guards; even without the heels, she would be close to Crocodile’s height, maybe even an inch taller, and of a similar build, powerful without seeming stocky.
Her face was hidden by dark glasses and a lacy ivory headscarf, but beneath the scarf Buggy could see a cascade of dark hair falling down her back in waves.
She was silent as the guards left her with Crocodile, but Crocodile seemed unbothered by this, smiling as he said, “Welcome to Karai Bari, madam. Just a moment.”
Then to Buggy he said, “My Emperor, I’m afraid I must take this meeting. May I visit you at our appointed time?”
Buggy’s mouth flapped wordlessly for a few seconds before he fell into the act and said, with extra magnanimity, “V-very well, keep up the good work.”
Crocodile gave him a strained smile before he ushered the woman into the office and closed the door.
It was a good thing the guards had already left and thus didn’t see their mighty Emperor fuming as his subordinate left him alone in the hallway. Buggy wanted to yell through the door that Crocodile couldn’t hide in there forever, but they couldn’t afford to have outsiders realize that Buggy wasn’t in charge here. So he settled for stomping his feet and stoppering his frustrated whine with gritted teeth.
Fine! He would go get a snack, and when he came back, Crocodile had better pay attention to him.
Half an hour later, the door was still closed.
This was stupid. What could they possibly be doing in there?? Who even was this lady, and how was she more important than an Emperor?!
An idea struck Buggy. He tiptoed down the hall to the side office and slipped inside. Army-crawling past the vacant desk, he crouched beside the door to the main office and slowly, slowly, pushed it open just a crack.
The door opened onto the right side of the main office. Buggy spotted the desk first, and was momentarily flummoxed to see Crocodile’s chair empty. His confusion lasted only a second, though, because Crocodile was most definitely still there. The green leather sofa sat at an angle to Buggy’s line of sight, but he had a plain enough view to tell exactly what was going on.
Crocodile had the woman on her back on the couch, her dress hiked up around her waist, the crotch of her lacy black panties pushed to the side, and her thick cock buried in his cunt.
Buggy’s jaw sank to his knees. He spun around, diverting his eyes from the sight. Then he peeked again. And turned away. And peeked again.
The woman’s hands clung to the arm of the sofa above her head. Crocodile had likely ordered her to place them there, as he sometimes did with Buggy and Mihawk, fashioning restraints with nothing but his own command.
Crocodile rocked languidly on her lap. He still wore his shirt and waistcoat and had his cigar in hand. The woman’s cock glistened with his slick each time it became visible, his labia stretched around its girth.
Crocodile could fuck whoever he wanted, of course, just as Buggy and Mihawk could. The arrangement between the three of them didn’t mean they stopped being pirates. But Buggy didn’t get the sense that Crocodile was in the habit of hooking up with just any rando who tied up at the dock…Unless maybe that was how he got the crew such good deals all the time. He was a very resourceful man, after all.
But no. This lady had to be someone. If Buggy could only see her face…
Just then the woman shifted, lifting up her shoulders against the arm of the sofa so that her head was better supported. Her face came into view. It was striking, long and angular, with a strong nose, dark eyes, and a distinctive tattoo of crisscrossed lines in rust red ink.
Recognition set in slowly, the sheer impossibility of the sight stalling the cogs in Buggy’s brain, but set in it did.
The woman was none other than Monkey D. Dragon, Commander of the Revolutionary Army and Most Wanted Criminal in the World.
Buggy’s jaw dropped so far and fast that it chop-chopped off and landed right on the floor. He scrambled to pick it up and reattach it. Pressing himself closer to the crack in the door, he watched Monkey D. Dragon, Commander of the Revolutionary Army and Most Wanted Criminal in the World as she–he?--moaned and tried to push up deeper into Crocodile.
“Ah-ah, don’t rush me,” said Crocodile.
“Wani, please…please fuck me,” Dragon begged, his deep voice raised into a whine.
A pet name?! Dragon had a pet name for Crocodile. Meaning…1) this was probably not their first time, and 2) they were on affectionate-enough terms for Dragon to use said pet name.
“But you’re doing so well,” said Crocodile. “Such a perfect little whore, with a perfect fat cock all for me to use.”
“Yeah–Wani–it’s yours,” said Dragon, panting with every roll of Crocodile’s hips.
“Good girl…mm, fuck,” Crocodile sighed. “Feels so good.”
Buggy’s hand inched toward the front of his increasingly tight trousers. He whimpered under his breath. Touching himself without Crocodile’s approval was not allowed. Touching himself while spying on Crocodile fucking another lover might never have been expressly forbidden, but it certainly felt like it would be on the list if Crocodile had ever considered it a possibility, and also felt like something that could get him into more than just the usual amount of trouble.
“Wani…” another plea escaped Dragon’s lips, and this time Crocodile showed pity. He leaned down and took Dragon in a soft kiss. Dragon deepened the kiss immediately, tongue sliding into Crocodile’s mouth, and Crocodile didn’t stop him. The kiss erased any remaining doubt that these two were really lovers. It was tender, it was lewd, it was so intimate that Buggy suddenly couldn’t watch anymore.
Flustered and fumbling, Buggy tugged the door closed as quietly as he could and slumped against it in the empty spare office. He listened for any sign that Crocodile had caught him, but heard only silence, punctuated by one low, loud moan from Dragon.
Buggy made his exit in a hurry, but not before chopping his straining dick and sticking it up his sleeve, where he hoped and prayed Mihawk wouldn’t notice it.
Crocodile’s eyes flicked up to the office door as it slipped closed. An amused smirk tugged at his lips.
“Wani?”
“Nothing, doll,” said Crocodile, with a squeeze of his cunt around Dragon’s cock that had Dragon shuddering in pleasure.
Delighted, Crocodile squeezed again, savoring every inch of the rigid length inside him. Dragon’s dick really was exquisite. It stretched him just to the edge of comfort, never farther, and caressed all the right spots inside him without fail. And of course, there was the man it was attached to. So pretty, so obedient, so magnificent.
Allowing Dragon to visit him here was absurdly risky, an almost childish indulgence for men of their authority and responsibility. They’d met only one other time since Crocodile’s escape from Impel Down, while Crocodile was laying low and rebuilding his network and accounts. Dragon had fucked him so desperately that Crocodile almost wondered if no one else had touched him in the whole time they’d been apart.
Dragon knew the danger as well as Crocodile did, and when Crocodile initially rejected his offer, Dragon accepted the decision with his trademark stoicism. Then one day news broke that Dragon’s forces had won control of a critical shipping route to Marie-Joie, sinking a large Marine force in the process. Crocodile knew that Dragon hadn’t done it for him, but that was precisely why it reminded Crocodile of just how attractive this man was. Crocodile barely got the question out over the snail phone before Dragon had gushed that he’d be there.
Crocodile braced himself on Dragon’s chest to ride him harder, taking him in rhythmic, pounding thrusts.
“Oh, Wani–oh, oh fuck,” Dragon gasped, his eyes closing tightly against the onslaught of pleasure.
Crocodile felt the swell of his own fluids and heard the smack of his hips against Dragon’s as he moved, pleasure filling up his cunt and just about to overflow–
–before he rose up in one smooth motion, letting the cock slip out of him to flop swollen and aching against Dragon’s belly. Dragon keened, so deliciously desperate that Crocodile almost tipped over the edge.
Crocodile took a puff of his cigar as he watched Dragon writhe against the couch, dick twitching, stomach flexing. A thin drizzle of precum leaked from his tip. Crocodile’s cunt throbbed, aching just as badly as Dragon’s dick at the loss of stimulation, but the temporary discomfort was worth it to see Dragon overcome like this. It was easier to admire Dragon when Dragon’s eyes were closed and he wasn’t staring back with such raw adoration written on his face.
Crocodile trailed his hand down Dragon’s stomach where the dress was pushed aside. He slipped his thumb under the waistband of the black panties, brushing over the skin beside the trail of hair leading to his dick. The skin there was so enticingly delicate, so at odds with the rest of his powerful body. Dragon shivered at the touch. Crocodile’s hand slid upward again, admiring the drape of smooth silk over hard muscle.
Dragon’s pecs filled out the dress beautifully. The fabric did nothing to hide his pebbled nipples, which stood hard and begging for attention. Crocodile reached down to pinch one and smirked when Dragon twitched in pleasure.
“What a pretty little number,” said Crocodile, sliding the silk between his fingers. “Did you buy it just for this?”
Dragon’s eyes cracked open. Regaining some of his breath, he said, “Got it a few months ago. Been holding onto it. Thought you’d like it.”
“It’s gorgeous on you, sweetheart. Makes me wish I could ravish you all night,” said Crocodile.
Dragon’s hands hadn’t left the arm of the sofa, where his fingers were clenched in the leather like it was the only thing keeping him in his body. “Let me trade places with you. I’ll make you feel so good,” he said.
Crocodile exhaled another lazy plume of smoke. If Dragon were any other man, Crocodile might think he was only offering in an attempt to escape his own torment. But Dragon really did know exactly how he liked it, and if Crocodile let him have his way, he would be sure to make it good enough to fuel Crocodile’s dreams at night for many months to come.
Crocodile glanced at the clock on his desk. Unfortunately, his next appointment was real, and even if it wasn’t, he couldn’t risk keeping Dragon here much longer. He told himself the pang in his heart was merely disappointment at the thought of losing Dragon’s cock for another year.
“Guess you’re lucky I don’t have all day,” said Crocodile.
He lifted himself off Dragon’s hips to stand beside the couch. Dragon stayed put, awaiting Crocodile’s permission to move.
“Here, sweetheart, let’s get these out of the way.” Crocodile leaned over him and delicately took hold of Dragon’s panties with his hook and fingers. He peeled them down over Dragon’s hips, smirking when Dragon twitched again at the brush of fabric against his cock, and drew them lower and lower, over his thighs and toned calves, until Dragon could slip his legs out.
Once freed, Dragon sat up to let Crocodile arrange himself against the opposite arm of the couch. Crocodile reclined there like a king, cigar between his teeth, one leg braced and the other draped off the side of the couch. He dipped a hand down to toy with his own cock and slid his fingers idly up and down his folds while Dragon positioned himself between his legs.
With the dress pushed to the side, Dragon slid the tip of his cock up and down Crocodile’s slit, the broad head warm and well-slicked. Ordinarily Crocodile disliked being teased, but with Dragon he could let himself savor the anticipation with the confidence that Dragon would follow through and the teasing would only enhance the pleasure.
Crocodile almost wished Dragon could play with him longer, building and building the sensations, but they both knew time was short. After only a moment, Dragon lined himself up and slid back inside him with one firm thrust.
“Oh, that’s good,” Crocodile sighed as Dragon began to fuck him in slow, firm strokes.
“Yeah?” Dragon gripped Crocodile’s thigh for leverage with one arm and with the other he reached down to rub his clit, fingers stroking on either side of the thick shaft and circling the sensitive exposed head.
Crocodile’s eyes rolled back at the touch, his orgasm building rapidly. He didn’t want to finish just yet, but they didn’t have much choice. Better make it a good one. “Yeah, faster,” he moaned.
Dragon obeyed, as always. He hunched over Crocodile, sweat on his brow and face tight with concentration, as he sped up his thrusts. Every stroke caressed Crocodile’s lips and massaged his sweet spot perfectly, filling his cunt with liquid pleasure. His pelvis rubbed Crocodile’s dick every time their hips met.
Crocodile’s thighs started shaking with the strength of his building climax and he didn’t care if Dragon noticed. Fuck, Dragon’s cock was so good, fuck, Dragon was so good at this, he should be a fucking professional.
“Oh fuck, sweetheart, yes, like that.” Praise dripped from Crocodile’s tongue; Dragon deserved every word of it. Crocodile could feel him hardening even further as he neared his peak right alongside him.
He pulled Dragon down for a kiss and Dragon panted against his lips, “Wani–please–gonna come–can I?”
Crocodile grinned. “Yes, sweetheart, be a good whore and come inside me.”
Dragon groaned. He collapsed onto Crocodile and clutched him in an embrace as he fucked him faster, until finally his hips stuttered and pushed deep and Crocodile felt his thick cock throb and spurt pulses of heat deep inside him.
The sensation of Dragon’s cum pumping into him pushed Crocodile into his climax. Eyes closed, head tipped back, he let the orgasm roll over him, his cunt clenching around Dragon’s cock. He hooked Dragon close with one leg to keep him there deep inside while he rode it out, until long after Dragon had finished his own climax and was shivering with overstimulation.
“Fuck, fuck, Wani.”
Crocodile cracked an eye. Reluctantly, he released Dragon from the vise of his leg and let him pull out. He felt a trail of cum follow Dragon’s cock and drip down his slit.
Dragon’s gaze was fixed on his cunt. Crocodile chuckled; he knew exactly what Dragon wanted. “All right, why don’t you clean me up, pretty whore?” he said.
Dragon’s mouth was on him in an instant. His tongue dragged through Crocodile’s folds, licking up every drop of slick and cum, before plunging inside his hole to draw out more of the rich fluid. He knew enough to avoid Crocodile’s dick for now, except for a coy brush of his lips that sent a jolt through Crocodile’s core.
“Oh, fuck,” Crocodile moaned, unprepared for just how good the wet warmth of Dragon's mouth felt on his throbbing cunt. Too sensitive to come again anytime soon, he was content to rock on the waves of warm pleasure.
When Dragon had cleaned him thoroughly, he laid himself beside Crocodile, curling an arm around him, and pressed kisses to his jaw. Crocodile turned to claim his mouth, tongue licking deep. The taste of his own salt on Dragon’s lips sparked possessive heat in his belly. He liked leaving a mark that no one else could see, the evidence of how well Dragon had pleasured him.
“I missed you,” said Dragon, after their long kiss. His lips were right beside Crocodile’s ear and the rumble of his voice sent a pleasant shiver down Crocodile’s spine.
“Missed you, too,” said Crocodile.
“Really?” asked Dragon.
“What?” said Crocodile, “Are you actually doubting I enjoy your company after all of that?”
“No, it’s just…different to hear you admit something like that.”
Crocodile gave a noncommittal grunt.
“You seem happy,” said Dragon, bringing a hand up to stroke Crocodile’s damp hair. “It suits you.”
Crocodile’s brow furrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Don’t worry, you’re still an asshole,” said Dragon with a smile in his voice. “Just…a more content asshole.”
Crocodile considered this. He had a business again and it was thriving. Cross Guild and the Revolutionary Army made inroads against the World Government every day. His ex was behind bars and he wasn’t. He had three handsome men to fuck whenever he wanted and a fourth who would risk igniting a global war to come see him on his birthday.
And maybe there was more to it than that, something in him he hadn’t looked very hard at and wasn’t sure he intended to, something that had snuck into him somewhere on the battlefield at Marineford and taken root in the years after. It reminded him uncomfortably of something he’d felt a long, long time ago, around the time he'd first lain in Dragon's arms, and yet it was new. And it was not something he was going to think about right now.
“Huh,” said Crocodile. “Maybe you’re right.”
“It makes me so glad,” said Dragon. “The others take good care of you?”
Crocodile smirked. “Of course.”
Dragon kissed him again. “Good,” he said. “Someone needs to keep you from overworking yourself.”
“Not you, too,” said Crocodile. “And who are you to talk? Does Ivankov at least pry you out of your office at night, or do you sleep under your desk?”
Dragon chuckled. “Ivankov, and Inazuma, yes. Sometimes.”
“Any others?”
“Not for a long time.”
“Hm.”
“They encourage me, but…I miss you too much, Wani.”
A half dozen snide replies flitted through Crocodile’s head, but none of them came out of his mouth. He realized he’d been quiet too long when Dragon claimed him in another kiss. Crocodile kissed him back, indulging in the slow strokes of Dragon’s tongue, until he knew that if kept going he might not be able to stop himself from rolling Dragon over and taking him again.
Crocodile extracted himself slowly from Dragon’s arms and redressed, ignoring the way Dragon watched him from the couch with that sappy smile on his face.
When he was finished with himself, Crocodile tidied Dragon’s hair and retied his headscarf. They’d somehow kept their cum off of the dress, which only showed a little rumpling and a few patches of sweat. An observer could read the signs of what had transpired if they looked closely enough, but Crocodile didn’t particularly care if anyone suspected he’d been fucking a client. If anything, it would only lure them farther from the truth. This was the beauty of such a simple disguise: there could be endless speculation as to the identity of Crocodile’s mysterious lover, but Monkey D. Dragon would not be among any of the guesses. Some things were simply too impossible to consider.
“Can I visit you again?” asked Dragon when they stood at the door of the office, about to open it back onto the world that waited for both of them.
“Once was foolish enough,” said Crocodile.
Dragon smiled at him patiently.
Crocodile rolled his eyes. “Fine. If you don’t get captured on the way home.”
Dragon beamed. He grabbed Crocodile and dragged him into one last kiss.
“Happy birthday, Wani,” he said, and he was out the door before Crocodile could respond.
Crocodile allowed himself to watch Dragon until he disappeared around the corner. “Bastard,” he muttered fondly, before finally closing the door.
The party went down as a great success in Buggy’s book. Crocodile arrived exactly on time and Buggy greeted him with a massive embrace, which he tolerated surprisingly well. Buggy thought there might even have been a hint of emotion behind his eyes when he saw the spread of all his favorite dishes: caprese salad, crocodile steak, mushroom tarts, creamy tiramisu. And he might have smiled just a little at the sight of the splendid black and white cake.
Over the course of the evening Buggy tried to stare at Crocodile only a normal amount. Crocodile seemed not to notice and at no point did he say anything unusual to Buggy, such as, ‘did you have a good time watching me fuck Monkey D. Dragon, Commander of the Revolutionary Army and Most Wanted Criminal in the World, who is also my secret lover?’ Buggy forced himself to file away his questions for another time, even if that time might be 'never.' Questions like: "Since when?" and "Does Mihawk know?" and "Do you know how good you look when you let yourself relax?"
When they finally made it to the bedroom that night, Buggy and Mihawk stepped beside Crocodile and undressed him together, folding and placing aside each piece of clothing, taking all the care of servants attending a king. Then they pressed him to the bed, kissing and massaging and caressing.
Buggy’s fingers dipped to Crocodile’s cunt and stroked cautiously, reverently along his lips, like he might encounter some trace of Dragon there. Of course, he found nothing but Crocodile’s usual warmth. Crocodile sighed and tiled his hips into Buggy’s hand.
“So…did you have a good day?” Buggy asked him.
Crocodile gave him a soft smirk that could have been his usual smirk, or could have been something else. “Indeed. Very productive,” he said.
“Take any time for yourself between all those meetings?”
“I did, in fact.”
“Oh–uh–really?” said Buggy, as he slipped two fingers into Crocodile. Crocodile received him easily, his cunt pampered and relaxed. “That’s good, you should do it more often.”
“You know, I might,” said Crocodile.
Buggy lowered his head to suckle the tip of Crocodile’s hardening cock. Mihawk was kissing and nipping Crocodile’s neck, his eyes tilted toward Buggy.
“‘Cuz you need to take care of yourself,” said Buggy. Crocodile raised an eyebrow and Buggy smiled. “I mean, no one else is gonna pick up the slack around here if you kick it.”
Crocodile snorted.
“And…we want you to be happy,” said Buggy. Crocodile stilled and blinked at him. Mihawk looked at him with soft eyes and a small, warm smile.
Crocodile’s smirk returned as quickly as it had slipped. He curled his hand into Buggy’s hair and urged him back toward his cock. “How about you stop talking and put your mouth back where it belongs, then?” he said.
Buggy grinned at him and went to work.