Serapha - Crocodile's Villa
The night draped Serapha in its velvety cloak, and though the city beyond the villa walls whispered with intrigue, within these walls, silence reigned. A silence laced with something dangerous.
Crocodile leaned against the polished mahogany of his desk, cigar resting between his fingers, its ember faintly illuminating the sharp lines of his face. His gaze, heavy with calculation, lingered on Sineka as she sat near the window, whiskey glass cradled in her hand. The faint silver gleam of moonlight traced the silk robe draped over her shoulders—his robe—loose enough that it threatened to slip and reveal more of her sun-kissed skin. Yet she seemed unbothered, her posture relaxed, her confidence unwavering.
Even now, with the air thick between them, she met his gaze without hesitation. No fear. No submission. Just that infuriatingly unreadable smile.
Sineka raised the glass to her lips, sipping slowly. The faint clink as she set it down seemed louder than it should have been in the quiet room. Rising from her seat, she approached him with unhurried steps, her bare feet silent against the cool marble floor. She stopped within arm's reach, tilting her head slightly as if considering something.
Then, with deliberate ease, she plucked the cigar from Crocodile's fingers.
Bold.
She brought it to her lips and took a slow drag, the faint cherry glow illuminating the curve of her cheek. Smoke curled from her lips as she exhaled, eyes never leaving his. The moment lingered, unspoken tension weaving tighter between them until she extended the cigar back toward him.
Crocodile accepted it without a word, taking a long drag before releasing a stream of smoke that drifted lazily between them. His free hand lifted, fingers brushing the silk robe where it had slipped from her shoulder. He adjusted it back into place—not a gesture of tenderness, but a reminder. A test of control.
"You're enjoying this too much," he murmured, his voice low and rough with amusement.
Sineka's smile didn't waver. "And you're not?"
His fingers ghosted along her collarbone, just shy of an actual touch. Still, she didn't flinch. Didn't lean away.
"You play with fire long enough..." Crocodile leaned in, breath brushing her ear, "...you'll get burned."
Sineka's breath hitched—barely—but Crocodile noticed. He always noticed.
"Then I'll make sure it's worth it." Her fingers traced the lapel of his coat, a light, testing touch. Calculated. Tempting.
Crocodile's hook caught her wrist before she could go further, though not with force. Just enough to halt her movement. To remind her of the danger in stepping too close. His gaze bore into hers, searching for any hint of hesitation.
There was none.
"You have no idea what you're asking for," he warned, voice softer now but no less dangerous.
Sineka tilted her head, eyes gleaming with challenge. "Then show me."
A pause. Long enough to feel like a standstill.
Then, Crocodile's grip loosened. His fingers brushed the inside of her wrist, tracing her pulse—steady. Too steady for a woman facing a man like him.
Interesting.
His lips curved into a slow smirk. "In time."
Sineka met his gaze for a heartbeat longer, then stepped back, slipping from his grasp with the same grace she carried in every movement. Without another word, she collected her whiskey glass, finished the last sip, and disappeared through the doorway, leaving the faint scent of smoke and something distinctly hers.
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A Bride for the Desert King | Crocodile
Fanfiction"Marry me," she commanded, almost. Crocodile narrowed his eyes at the impertinence of the woman who stood in front of him. "Ara," he heard Ms All Sunday mutter amusedly. "Who are you?" "Sineka Duskblade," she replied.
