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It always started the same.
Crocodile was minding his own business when Doflamingo decided it was a good moment to start annoying the other man. The blond always got too close, his tone flirty but mocking, pushing every single one of Crocodile's boundaries.
The pink flamingo would make insinuating comments while casually touching the brunet's arm, or would lean into him so their faces were too close. Crocodile would never take a step back, refusing to appear scared or weak, but he would growl and demand the blond to back off.
Of course, Doflamingo never did what was told, enjoying the way the other Warlord would frown or bite his cigar with irritation. The taller man was always delighted to get any kind of reaction from Crocodile, so he never stopped just like that.
After a while of teasing the brunet, Doflamingo would get bolder with his touches, tracing a path with his hand over Crocodile's arm to his shoulder, and then to his chest. Most of the time, the older man would break his cigar in half with his teeth before pushing Doflamingo away.
Then, the blond would grab Crocodile's wrist with a mix of playfulness and warning, but the brunet would try to shake him off anyway. It never worked, and the pink annoyance would get a little bit more violent with his actions.
Doflamingo would try to make Crocodile stay as close as him as possible, until the brunet finally snapped. When that happened, he wouldn't turn to sand to put distance between them, but he would hit the blond with his hook.
The first strike always landed, as it always aimed at Doflamingo's chest or arm. Sometimes, Crocodile would aim at the long legs, but never at the taller man's head. It had been pretty telling after a couple of times.
After that, they would fight, that little dance of theirs always different, always new. And it would last until one of them had the other one pinned against the floor, a wall or any hard surface.
Only then, the two of them panting, exhilarated, hurt from the blows, and with blown pupils, the winner would lean to kiss the loser. A rough, deep, dominant kiss, full of want and neediness none of them would admit having. A kiss that scratched an itch no other lips could.
But the kiss was only another start to more entertaining business.