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The night was bright. The full moon was illuminating the graveyard on the Kuraigana Island. Two figures near the biggest gravestone were adding distinct strokes of colors to this gloomy place: pink and green.
Zoro frowned and stooped his training. He looked up at the sole bright window of the castle. He was outside the whole evening, lifting a giant rock with his pinky over and over again. Perona helped him by sitting at the top of said rock and criticizing his every move.
“What is it? Why did you stop? Are you finally tired, you muscles-for-brain?”
“Nothing,” Zoro said and lifted the rock into the air. “I just felt a familiar presence. Nothing Mihawk can’t handle.”
***
A breeze moved the curtains and brought rustling of the sand with its gentle caresses. A candle flickered but didn’t go out. Mihawk didn’t move, didn’t even lift his head from the book when a person formed next to him, leaning on his table.
“My, my, my, Mihawk, what’s this I saw in your backyard... are you picking strays now?”
Sir Crocodile in all his glory. He shamelessly took the bottle of wine from Hawkeye’s table.
Mihawk turned the page of his book.
“They came uninvited and I extended to them the same courtesy I give to you.”
“Hm?” Crocodile said, reading the label on the bottle.
“I am allowing them to stay.”
“How generous.”
Crocodile poured the wine into a single glass beside his host.
“What brings you to these waters, Crocodile? Weren’t pink birds more to your taste?”
“They are not found in this area.” Crocodile unbuttoned his vest before taking the glass into his hand. “Birds of prey, on the other hand...” He said, giving Mihawk a tantalizing look with his lidded eyes. He took a sip of wine, touching his lips to the very place from which Mihawk drank.
He did not hide why he was here. Mihawk moved only his eyes to look at the ex-warlord, cutting his friend’s smoldering desire with his indifference.
Crocodile wanted the struggle for dominance and excitement of a strong opponent. Mihawk could give him... a bare minimum of that.
Oh, Hawkeye was strong, but he wasn’t that interested in dominating Crocodile. Doflamingo was far more willing to play these games with him. Crocodile was cunning and his mastery of the fruit was worthy of respect, but he was not a swordsman and, disappointingly, Mihawk could subdue him by brute force alone.
“I already have plans for tonight,” Mihawk returned his gaze to the book.
Crocodile leaned down to him, his breath smelling of the expensive wine he just consumed.
“Are you sure?” He purred. “A bird like yourself needs to hold someone in their talons once in a while.”
His hook unceremoniously moved alongside Mihawk's thigh, the coldness of the metal was palpable even through the fabric of the pants.
Crocodile could complain about Doflamingo’s sexual assertiveness all he wanted, but to Mihawk he was no better.
Still... he could play along for the sake of their friendship.
Mihawk closed his book with a loud thud.
***
Crocodile laughed.
Hawkeye’s body was so small against his and yet, he slammed Crocodile against the table with ease, pinning him down by his wrists. He struggled, of course, he did, but it felt like trying to move a brick wall. He shifted form, he kicked, he bit, but Mihawk didn’t need the wine that spilled onto Crocodile’s chest to keep him in place.
Crocodile grinned. That was what he was after. That sudden challenge that boiled his blood and demanded his body to fight... and the inevitable loss that made his head spin with shame. So much of it, he felt insane during his climax, like a bare wire that was assaulted by electricity.
That was, perhaps, the only way he could deal with similar feelings that plagued his dreams... Only now his loss was manufactured, he controlled the narrative, and that made all the difference.
Mihawk’s dick was gliding between his folds, his privates exposed through torn clothes. It was taking too long. Crocodile opened his eyes to stare into the sharp gaze of his friend.
“Ha... I didn’t take you for a coward who can't follow through,” he taunted with a crooked smile on his lips.
Despite his words, there was a delight in knowing that Mihawk was physically stronger them him, but at the same time too polite in sex to do anything drastic.
Hah, Dracule Mihawk wouldn’t enter without an invitation.
The push that followed was reminiscent of a battering ram bursting into the fortress. Crocodile flinched and moaned. Hawkeye’s thrusts were brutal and merciless. Crocodile tried to push him away, to get free of his hold, but the man felt unmovable between his legs. Mihawk’s stamina was legendary. He could do it all day and night if he pleased so. The thought made Crocodile shiver. He hit Mihawk in the coccyx with the heel of his shoe in the last attempt to fight. The blow that would have shattered the bone did nothing to Mihawk. He still felt like an obstacle impossible to move.
Crocodile chuckled. He did not care about the size of the man’s cock as long as he could get high on this, on the feeling of being pinned down. On trying to fight the odds... And losing. Again, again, and again.
***
“Where are you going, huh?” Perona asked, hurrying behind the marimo brute.
“Just want to check something.”
“That familiar presence you talked about? Jeez, you said Mihawk would take care of that.”
Zoro only grumbled. He couldn’t describe how annoying it was to feel Crocodile’s presence not disappearing from the edge of his senses. Mihawk should have thrown the damn guy out by now!
“So why are you in such a rush?” Perona continued. “Don’t forget to knock, you mannerless monkey!”
Zoro ignored her and slammed the door open.
There was a long pregnant pause when the two pairs of eyes looked at the other two pairs of eyes.
Zoro slammed the door closed.
Perona’s pale cheeks were blushed. She covered her open mouth with the tips of her fingers.
Zoro turned his back to the door and crossed his arms.
“Huh,” he said. “As I suspected. Mihawk just spending a quiet night alone.”
“W... what?” Perona said, looking at her companion.
“Nothing out of the ordinary,” Zoro continued and started slowly going down the stairs.
“Are you kidding me?!” She followed him. “Or did you gouge out your second eye while I wasn’t looking?”
“He was even reading a book as he told as he would.
“Reading the...” Perona gasped with indignation unable to even continue the sentence. She whacked the stupid swordsman on the head with her pink umbrella. “Stop.” Whack! “Erasing.” Whack!” “Your.” Whack! “Memory!”
“What a quite ordinary night,” Zoro said, absolutely unfazed by the beating, continuing walking down as if it was a gentle breeze caressing his hair.