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Hot, hotter than the desert sun itself, is the temperature of Doflamingo's heaven. His mouth hangs agape with panting breaths and his eyes waver like they hold a mirage. Sweat gathers in every dipping valley of his skin; rivulets run down the trail of his spine and trace the lines of his facial features. The world around him could be ablaze and it still wouldn't touch the intoxicating paradise that was atop of him. He could burn - is burning - and would want nothing more than to feel every all-consuming flame on every last cell that makes up his mortal form.
It was never of any doubt to him that Crocodile would set him ablaze, but even still, Doflamingo finds himself stunned by the sheer fucking heat of his lover. The rough scorch of his palm, the boiling spill of his saliva, the captivating flame of pleasure that flashes like wildfire in his eyes - Crocodile is heat incarnate. In these moments especially, when Doflamingo's been summoned for Crocodile's use, that he's allowed to truly bask in it. Though his lover may only want Doflamingo when his body craves sexual release, Doflamingo will take everything he offers. He's too selfish to refuse, or maybe too foolishly addicted to put a stop to their sexual arrangement. He could never turn down a request from Crocodile, not when his words hold such wicked promises that reflect what Doflamingo sees in his dreams. He doesn't have the self control to deny himself or Crocodile, no matter what his vicious deity asks of him.
Strings - Doflamingo's own - wrap around the celestial dragon's own wrists and ankles. The near-invisible threads lace and wind up his extremities, all the way up to his shoulders and thighs. Though they're tight enough to press lines into his skin, it's Doflamingo who's pulling them taut, keeping himself trapped in his own bindings. He has to fight to stay bound like this - not only against his own body, which strains to keep his strings held in place, but against his own mind as well. To be caught and tied down goes against the instincts that run down to the spongy insides of his bones. Yet, for Crocodile, he allows it. For every time that they've slept together, Crocodile demands it of him, and even though it send his nerves into a panic, Doflamingo complies.
"Please, just this once."
Though that doesn't mean he doesn't try to beg for more.
"One time, Croc," Doflamingo's voice scratches against his throat as he speaks, the strain of his breathing made worse by the harsh arch in his back. "Just one!" His infamous glasses are askew on his face, allowing him an unobstructed view of the closest thing to a god that he'll ever see. He hardly blinks, pupilless eyes hanging onto every movement of Crocodile's body like Doflamingo's gaze is the jewelry Crocodile deserves to be draped in. Doflamingo would decorate him with all the finest metals and jewels in the world, if Crocodile would let him. Doflamingo would clasp them around his the warm skin of his neck and let them cascade over his broad chest and shoulders. His fingers would linger on every touch, whispered oaths of devotion spilling from his lips the entire time. Crocodile deserves nothing less, in Doflamingo's opinion, though the other man allows himself not even this basic affection. Doflamingo thinks that it's the least he could do for being allowed to experience such wonderful sin with someone so undeniably divine.
Crocodile doesn't even look at him, his eyes closed tight as he focuses on the movement of his hips. His thighs flex as he shifts his weight up, canting his pelvis in time with the motion in a way that has Crocodile grunting while a choked hiss pulls free from Doflamingo's chest. "Shut up," Crocodile commands with a breathiness to his tone that makes Doflamingo's heart clench. Crocodile slides down again, engulfing Doflamingo in the addictive heat of his body as a thin string of precum connects the tip of Crocodile's erection to the straining muscles of Doflamingo's abdomen. Even that fragile point of attachment makes Doflamingo's lovesick mind buzz with excitement.
He can feel a wild grin pushing at his facial muscles but he couldn't care less about the sore ache in his cheeks. "Oh c'mon-" His words are clipped with how shallow his breathing is. "One time, Croc. I'll fucking worship you if you'll just let me." The words have an untamable glee to them, but it's evenly matched by a weak, simpering plea. How does Crocodile expect him to keep living like this? Does he expect Doflamingo not to collapse under the weight of being unable to show appreciation to his lover? Because if so, Crocodile gives him too much credit - Doflamingo will decay from the inside out if he remains so useless in his efforts to worship Crocodile.
It's all he wants, all he could ever want. He wants to show his undying, unconditional love to this prideful man who comes to Doflamingo to sate his needs. Crocodile may be an uncaring deity, but that doesn't make Doflamingo want to worship any less. He'd be Crocodile's most devout follower and dedicate his every waking moment to pleasing him.
Crocodile doesn't respond immediately, and hope makes itself an involuntary visitor in Doflamingo's mind. "Please," he gasps, wondering if maybe, maybe, Crocodile is considering Doflamingo's eagerly offered deal. "You know I'm telling the truth." The pace of Crocodile's hips slows, and more hope sprouts in the taller man's heart like blood from a laceration. "You know I'd do it right, don't you? I'm fucking obsessed with you. I'd worship you exactly like you deserve."
The vulgar sound of skin on skin returns suddenly, so suddenly that Doflamingo doesn't even realize Crocodile is fucking himself on his cock until his body goes hot and rigid, seizing with pleasure. Now the pace is ruthless - Crocodile's had enough of teasing Doflamingo, he's decided to chase his climax. "I don't give a shit about worship," he growls between his own shallow breaths. A wretched, wicked smirk spreads out over his lips and Doflamingo's mind goes rose-tinted and red with love and lust and longing. Crocodile leans down, leans in, and for a moment Doflamingo thinks that Crocodile may even grant him a kiss. Their first kiss-
A gravelly chuckle spills into his ears instead. Crocodile looks him directly in the eye - the only person alive who's ever done so - and says in a voice more beautiful than an angels, "I prefer torture."
Doflamingo's head falls back as he groans in both pleasure and anguish. He should have expected something like this from his cruel lover. Then again, it's for these same cunning, cutting ways that Doflamingo fell for Crocodile. So if his sinful god prefers torturing his subjects, Doflamingo will endure it gladly.