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When Rocinante was promoted to Warrant Officer, she was finally transferred to a base away from her father.
She pretended to be sad, but inside she was rejoicing, and when her father gave her a personal denden mushi as a going away present, her excitement went through the roof.
(She was fairly certain her father had expected her to chat with her ‘boyfriend’ over the phone, but she rather doubted he expected it to be anything like this... or maybe he did, he had seen her letters after all. And he had made sure to get her a denden with a headphone jack to make her phone conversations more private...
On second thought, he had definitely expected it to be exactly like this.)
Her coworkers hadn’t seemed particularly enthused when she had first arrived, likely expecting her to be the typical Marine Brat, climbing through the ranks on pure nepotism alone. They had obviously been expecting a prissy little princess and had instead gotten Rocinante in all her recent-growth-spurt glory, standing at nearly 9 feet tall and made of pure muscle. The men respected that, she found, and while it certainly wasn’t fair to the women around her who were just as capable as her, if not quite as physically fit, she took advantage of it, nonetheless.
Still, they attempted to haze her regardless, mostly by trying to fluster her with vulgar words and gestures - they were smart enough not to try physical force at least - and were frustrated to find her a stone-cold wall that occasionally snorted at some of their better jokes or worse attempts.
She quickly gained a reputation for being an ice princess, frigid to men. She saw a couple of the other women eye her speculatively, and even approach, assuming she was a lesbian like most of them were, but she told them the truth - she had someone already, and he was far superior to any man she could find on base. (Although she did add that she was bisexual and was more than happy to gossip about pretty women, which got her integrated with her fellow female officers fairly quickly.)
And then the first phone call came and any idea the men had of her being ‘frigid’ was thrown out the window.
(“I can’t wait to see you again, love,” Rocinante sighed into the receiver, “I miss you.”
“Do you miss me, or do you miss my cock?” Doflamingo asked, chuckling.
“Well, your cock is certainly one of the parts I miss most about you.”
There was a clattering noise outside her room, but no one called for help, so she ignored it.)
Needless to say, fellow officers quickly learned that when Rocinante got a call from ‘Vergo’ it meant to steer clear of her room.
The men and women on base knew way more about Rocinante’s sex life than any of them ever wanted to know, and Rocinante wasn’t even phased.
(“If you didn’t want to know, why were you listening to my private phone calls?”
“We didn’t think you’d just be having straight up phone sex!”
“Well why else would he call me so often?”)
So yeah, Rocinante had traumatized quite a number of marines. But it wasn’t her fault they were all so prissy and body shy! ... Or that their sex lives were so vanilla.
“I can’t wait for the next time I can come see you,” she sighed, rubbing her bare cunt as she came down from her second orgasm. “I want you to absolutely wreck me, fuck me stupid until I pass out and then use my unconscious body for your pleasure.”
“The things you do to me,” Doflamingo breathed. She could hear the slick sounds of him fisting his cock even over the receiver. “I want to steal you away from there, chain you to my bed and never let you out again, make you my pretty little sex doll.”
“Mm, I’d kill you if you did that,” Rocinante said idly, rubbing lazy circles on her clit.
“I know, that’s what makes it so tempting,” Doflamingo groaned.
“Is that what gets you off?” Rocinante asked, speeding up her fingers, “knowing I could kill you if I wanted to?”
“Fuck yes,” Doflamingo laughed breathlessly, “you’d give me such a good fight to go out in.”
“In that case,” Rocinante’s breath hitched, her flushed face turning even pinker, “no one can kill you but me, understood?”
“Yes,” Doffy cut himself off with a groan, a sure sign that her words had made him cum.
Rocinante shuddered her way through a third orgasm herself at that realization, riding her cramping hand to completion as they moaned in unison.
For a moment, there was nothing but panting from both sides.
“So, no one can kill me but you huh?” Doflamingo eventually asked, panting breathlessly.
“Did I fucking stutter love?” She slurred back, laying one arm over her eyes.
“No, no you didn’t mi corazón.”
~
Rocinante wasn’t entirely certain what her coworkers were expecting when they met her mysterious boyfriend, but she was pretty certain it wasn’t stoic, spacey Vergo with food almost perpetually stuck to his face and a dorky bowl cut.
“They’re staring at me,” he noted idly.
“They all think you’re some kind of sex freak because of my regular calls with Doffy,” Rocinante murmured back. She was leaned in close to him, draped over his shoulders, so they could covertly whisper about her brother and disguise it as ‘sweet nothings’ as it were.
“... Would you like to prove them right?” Vergo asked, turning his face until they were nose-to-nose.
“Think Doffy would be okay with that?” She asked.
“Doesn’t hurt to ask.”
Rocinante pressed a kiss to Vergo’s lips, reaching down to scoop the shorter man up. Vergo allowed it, finally breaking his stoic air to laugh a bit at her shenanigans as she carried him off under the awed and baffled gazes of their fellow officers.
And indeed, they did ask her brother, murmuring quietly into the den-den so no one would overhear.
“I want to listen,” was all Doflamingo said.
And neither of them had any problem complying with that, setting the denden next to the pillow so Doffy could hear their moans in full stereo, could hear the slick sounds of mouths meeting, of hips slapping. He listened intently to their every pant, his breathing on the other end of the line heavy as he jerked off to the sound of Rocinante crying out Vergo’s name.
Vergo had the stamina to match the Donquixote siblings, but only barely. He brought her to orgasm four times as he fucked her into the mattress, his face stoic and intently focused in a way it so rarely was. When he himself finally orgasmed, he rolled off of Rocinante onto the side of the bed to catch his breath, only for the taller woman to roll on top of him, inching her way down his body until she could get her mouth on his soft cock, sucking the oversensitive organ back to hardness. Vergo withstood the pleasurable pain, his hands spasming and clenching the bedsheets. His cock was still sensitive when she slid herself back onto it, rocking her hips as she rode him to yet another orgasm. Vergo, as he started to catch his second wind, rolled her back over again, pistoning his hips once more. Rocinante moaned in pleasure, reaching blindly next to her until she found the denden mushi, dragging it closer so Doffy could hear her next words clearly
“Harder please,” she said, wrapping her legs around Vergo’s waist, “I want to feel this for a week.”
“As you wish, my lady,” Vergo rumbled, gripping her hips tightly so he could slam into her harder without her sliding up the bed.
Rocinante reached up to wrap her arms around Vergo’s neck, dragging him down for a sloppy kiss.
When she pulled away, she said, “It’s sweet that you call me ‘my lady’ and all, but I think I’d much rather you call me ‘mistress’ in bed.”
Vergo’s hips stuttered against her as he let out a broken moan, his composure faltering. He let his head come down until his forehead met her collarbone, hiding his face from her. Rocinante ran a hand through his shiny black hair, gently raking her nails over his scalp.
“Rocinante,” Doflamingo’s voice came quietly through the den-den by her head for the first time in a while, “describe his face to me.”
Rocinante obligingly used the hand she had in Vergo’s hair to grip tightly, pulling him up by the roots. Another moan ripped its way from his throat.
“Look at you,” Rocinante cooed, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you make such a pathetic facial expression Vergo. Do you like the thought of calling me mistress? You turn such a pretty shade of red when I say it.”
“Yes, mistress,” Vergo rasped, barely audible.
“What was that darling?” Rocinante said sweetly, cupping his face with both hands so he couldn’t look away. His face contorted into one of humiliated pleasure when she called him that. “I don’t think everyone heard you sweetheart.”
“Yes- yes mistress,” Vergo nearly stuttered this time, as he said the words loudly enough for the receiver to pick up.
Doflamingo groaned audibly on the other side of the line.
“I can feel the way your cock twitches every time one of us says ‘mistress’,” she told Vergo, pausing as exactly that happened, making her smile smugly and Vergo flush a lovely pink. “Are you going to cum soon... my Vergo?”
Vergo’s hips lost any sense of rhythm at that, Vergo panting harshly as he tried to continue pleasuring her while she tormented him so.
“I asked a question Vergo,” Rocinante said, digging her nails into his cheeks.
“Y-yes mistress,” this time he really did stutter as he spoke, “I’m going to cum again soon. I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright sweetheart,” Rocinante cooed, softening her grip on his face, running soothing thumbs over his cheekbones.
“You’ve been so good for me,” she told him, “you can cum inside me again if you want.”
Vergo’s hips almost immediately came to a halt as he hilted himself inside her, cumming instantly on the spot. She could feel him fill her once more, hot warmth spreading in her cunt. He stayed still where he was, shuddering over top of her, still gripping her hips even as his softening cock slipped out of her. She allowed him his moment, then tugged his hair to get his attention.
“Good boys clean up after themselves,” she told him, unwrapping her legs from his hips and pushing on his head to make her message clear. Vergo’s eyes immediately darted to her cunt, where his seed was already beginning to drip from between her labia, thick and viscous. He visibly licked his lips, sliding down her body as she had done to him earlier.
She reached down with one hand to spread her cunt open, revealing her pretty pink flesh. Vergo’s eyes zeroed in on her hole, white with both his loads. She flexed, allowing another stream of cum to flow out and Vergo practically darted forward to lick it up, sealing his mouth over her used hole and lapping up his own seed with vigor.
She moaned loudly, bringing her transponder snail down so Doflamingo could hear the filthy slick noises her cunt made as Vergo eagerly ate her out.
“Look at me Vergo,” she panted, waiting for his eyes to shoot open, darting up to meet her’s even as he continued to eat her pussy, sliding his tongue inside her, fucking her open with the thick muscle. “You look good like this,” she told him, “worshipping my cunt like you’re fucking starving for it. Would you be this eager if it was another man’s cum you were lapping up like a dog?”
Vergo and Doflamingo both moaned in tandem. It was obvious who’s cum they wanted it to be, and Rocinante couldn’t blame them when she felt the same.
Vergo finished cleaning her up as much as could with just lips and tongue, and then, much to her pleasure, he moved up, to her clit, where he tongued her to one final orgasm. Over the line, she could hear Doflamingo moaning with her, likely finishing himself off as well.
Afterwards, Vergo slid his way back up her body to press a chaste kiss to her lips.
“How was that?” He asked, directing the question at them both.
“You did a wonderful job Vergo,” Rocinante told him, raking her hands through his hair again. She couldn’t help it really, his hair was very soft, and he looked quite handsome with it ruffled out of its usual strict bowl-cut, even when he was soaked in sweat, some of his silky black locks clinging to his forehead and others sticking up oddly from how much she’d messed with it.
“No one else I’d trust in my sister’s bed without me there,” Doflamingo commented, chuckling a little. He already sounded put together again, which made Rocinante pout.
“I’m honored by that,” Vergo said, quietly enough that only she and the den-den next to her could pick it up.
“You should be,” Doflamingo replied. “Now,” he continued, “I have to get to a meeting - you two should probably shower. You’ve been at it for over four hours.”
“Shit, seriously?” Rocinante asked, looking over at the clock. Sure enough, it was almost time for dinner to start in the mess hall - and they had just had lunch when they started.
“Mm. I’ll see you both soon, until then... I love you both,” Doflamingo hesitated a bit as he said it, but Rocinante couldn’t help but smile beautifully at those rare words.
“I love you,” she said back to him, her eyes flicking to Vergo to let him know that he had come to be included in that statement.
Vergo looked overwhelmed, as though he could not imagine having the love of either of them as he stammered out, “I love you, too.” His eyes flickered from the transponder snail to her, confusion and wonder in his eyes. Rocinante’s heart ached a little for him. Doflamingo never neglected his right-hand man - not physically at least - but Doffy was shit with emotions, both at identifying them (in himself and others) and expressing them.
As if to prove her point, the snail call clicked its end and her little den-den yawned, falling asleep. She scooped them up, carefully transferring them to the little habitat she had made for them, with its dirt and vegetation and hidey-holes and climbable things (this snail heard some nasty shit no snail should ever have to hear, and they had just been up close and personal with them during sex, they deserved the luxury okay?). Vergo smiled a little when he spotted it.
“You’re very kind,” he said, “even to animals.”
“Not really,” she said, stroking between her den-den’s eyestalks and listening to them purr. “I mean, yes I’m kind to creatures, but to people? I’m only nice to most people because it makes my life easier.”
She turned to Vergo, tilting her head at him. “I’m kind to you because you’re mine,” she told him, “and I love all my possessions.”
He looked away from her, face stoic.
She walked back across the room to him, cupping his face so he couldn’t look away from her.
“I can’t be yours the way I am Doffy’s,” she told him quietly, for his ears only, “at least not at this point in time. And I don’t love you with the ferocity that I love him. Not yet, and maybe not ever. But you are mine and more importantly - you are his. And that is more than enough to make me cherish you dearly. I love you as I love my possessions, but don’t think that means my love is fleeting or easily broken.”
Another smile settled on Vergo’s face. “I see,” he said, raising his hands to cover her’s, which still cupped his face. She could see in his eyes that he truly did understand. “In the end, you are just as possessive as your brother,” Vergo told her, “perhaps even more so.”
“That I am,” she murmured.