Ace
The pirate's life may have not been for everyone, but it was sure as hell for you.
Having grown up on the roaring seas with the burning Sun coloring you red day by day, you had made a life and a name for yourself that you had never really expected. Most people from your village, located on a forgotten island tucked in the Grand Line and buried beneath snow, are satisfied with their day-to-day, mind-numbing tasks to keep "the Village prospering". They were happy to fight the harsh winds of the snowy peaks to pick out the bitter fruits that grew in the caves guarded by monstrous fruit bat creatures that often claimed more lives than the food was worth.
But you weren't. You had watched as Village member after village member found their place in that hidden, bleak home, completely satisfied to do the same thing every day without even a small hint of some type of excitement to keep them going. To spend the day harvesting, fishing, hunting, and cooking for a family you were probably bought off into marrying by parental negotiations, with children you may have never wanted before settling down in the bed with someone you may have not held feelings for was not a life you were willing to live.
So, you didn't.
While your parents were discussing marriage proposals and possibly land you could purchase with your future husband, you were sneaking away to the coast to stare at the sea that switched between plates of ice that surfed to the waves that towered well over you. From the beginning of the day to the evening you would stay. You discovered sea life in the shallow rocks when the warmer seasons came to break up the endless blizzards long enough to notice them. You drew pictures in the mixture of sand and snow combined. You even tried to go as far into the chilling water as possible until your feet turned so pale and numb you almost couldn't fit your boots back on. Every day, while your parents were trying to educate you on the roles of the village and what yours would be once you were older, you would sneak away just to watch the sun sink below the end of the sea level and leave you clouded in darkness and a few stars that peaked through the clouds.
And ever since you discovered the sea you felt a calling.
Your parents had made it obvious that they had expected you to grow up into a tamed housewife that harvested the bitter plants, made medicine like most of the other women in the village, and served your hunter-husband at night. You would give him two or more kids and you would raise them in this endless cycle and expect them to comply with the same whims your mother would have implanted in your head. However, that was not what you imagined for your future. As the days passed and you aged, you continued to visit the sea to try and place exactly what this calling was. Even when a handsome hunter had shown up at your house with huge bribery from his family to yours for your hand in marriage, all you could think about at that moment was the ocean and standing at the edges of it once more. So, when the deal was settled, and your future was decided in their hands on your sixteenth birthday did you suddenly realize what that calling had been.
The ocean itself had been calling to you.
Every day, as you stared out at it longingly, it too had stared back in hopes that you would come to it. The waves grasping desperately at your feet, trying to urge you to come to join them in adventures you could only dream of. And you finally caved on the day your future would have been sealed. With your wedding planned for the next day you had packed all the clothes and food, you could fit into one of the tight, leather bags you had for gathering and you stole a fishing boat in the night. With the moonlight as a guide, you followed the calling of the ocean. But the Grand Line was not so forgiving. The waters were deadly, with monsters that you had only read in books haunting them. Ships thrice the size of your own often teased on the edge of the horizon, waiting for you to make one wrong move so they could sweep in like birds of prey to snatch your life away. Having heard stories of pirates in the village, you knew the waters wouldn't exactly be safe, but that was a risk you were willing to take just to fill this calling of yours. But just being on the ocean didn't edge this feeling even the slightest. It lifted it slightly, giving you hope that this was the right choice, but it returned like clockwork to haunt you when you were buried deep into furs and listening to the water hit the bottom of the boat you rocked in.
And it was one night, days after leaving did you realize exactly what calling you had been having. As the stars were glistening above you, serving as your only friends on these late, cold nights did you realize what you were missing; a crew. You wanted to be a pirate. So, you did. It wasn't the easiest journey. Hell, it took you weeks to find an island that wasn't immediately hostile and trying to shank you down for whatever you had fit on your small boat. Then it took you months to learn about pirates and exactly how to go about becoming one. While anyone could become a pirate, not every pirate could survive in the Grand Line. And despite having grown up in these rough lands, you hadn't traveled nor exactly trained yourself to become something of Pirate King material in your lifetime. Really you only had the strength you had from the days of climbing the mountains to steal those bitter fruits from the cave bats that killed so many of your people, but compared to the pirates you've come across you were just a toddler teetering around out there.
So, how do you become useful to pirates?
Funny enough, the thought came to you thanks to a random tavern owner on a lush, tropical island as he served you the worst meal you had ever had the displeasure of eating.
"Pirates are simple enough to please." He had said after your endless questions on them, pausing in polishing glass to lean in close with a twinkle in his gaze. "You just feed 'em!"
And right there was your ticket to your next big thing.
You had cooked and preserved food in your village, sure, but you had never gone to extravagant lengths to make a well-balanced meal that fit every nutritional need of a person. You dried meat and served fish with the seasonings you could find in the forest and hoped it was enough to keep going to the next day. Knowing you were a fish out of water in this situation did you decide to stay on this tropical island, set some roots, and train yourself in the art of cooking. And it wasn't entirely easy either. Three years would pass in a blink during this journey. Three years that were dedicated to learning the sacred art of cooking left you simultaneously satisfied and frustrated to the point you thought of calling a quits and crawling back home to play the housewife role. But, you didn't, and your big break came in the form of a legendary pirate that you had learned of during those years of cooking;
Whitebeard.
Apparently, this island was close enough to the Red Line that, on a trip back into the Grand Line for whatever reason, Whitebeard himself would pay a visit to this land. It could have been for the special fruits this island had on it or to play face and circle like a lion patrolling his territory, but for whatever reason, he was in the very town you were training your skills in and you could only see your big break before you. Whitebeard wouldn't stay for long in this town and you knew it, so you had to act fast and you had to do whatever you could to earn favor and join his ship. And if you failed, there was always the next pirate that came rolling in. Or the next. Or the next. You didn't have standards when it came to what pirate you found, so desperate to fill this void you were ready to hop ship with whatever crew appeared next.
"Please!" Your voice was firm despite how terrified you were at this moment, nails biting the plate as you held it up before you. Whitebeard stared down at you, those deep eyes unmoving as you kneeled before this already gigantic man, offering him a simple plate. No, you weren't offering the plate, you were offering the dish on the plate that had been crafted carefully with a mixture of different food groups and seasonings that you hoped perfectly balanced nutrition and flavor. And when he let out a small noise to acknowledge you did you continue in a voice less firm and demanding.
"Please try my food and let me join your crew!" There were noises around you, maybe other residents of the town reacting with shock at how brazen this practical stranger that had appeared at their shores years ago was acting. Maybe it was Whitebeard's crew reacting with amusement as the old man prepared to take your life. Whatever it was, you blocked it out and simply focused on the man-no, the Captain before you that gave no real reaction to the demand you had given him. Instead, he huffed softly, the fine hairs of his mustache shaking with it before he slowly moved, crouching so he was at least within reach of bringing a hand down to take the plate from your grip. When you released the plate your hands shook and you jerked up to stare with a wide, trapped look on your face as you felt paralyzed before him. Now or never. He didn't seem to treasure the meal at all. Sniffing at it once, he tipped the plate and let the different bites and sauces slide right into his open mouth, dripping out the edges and onto his chest as he gulped. There was no elegance to how he ate nor did he immediately portray how he felt about the food. The silence surrounding this interaction was thick enough that you almost couldn't breathe. Then he laughed.
"What a cocky brat you are." He finally spoke, his words warmer than he appeared as he stood back to full height, dropping the plate to the side. You didn't dare to move, as though afraid you might insult him or cause issues, instead adjusting to look up at the man towering over you. "You approach me, demand I eat your food, then demand to let you join my crew? Where's the respect from you, eh?" The crew that stood near him laughed at the statement, as though he had just told the funniest joke in the world. There was hope rising that you wouldn't be killed on the spot for disrespecting this man. You dropped your head to release the sigh you had been holding in when silence overtook the crew and Whitebeard. You felt fear teasing up your spine once more, so with only a pause of hesitation did you decide to look back up fully expecting them to have all left.
He was holding his hand out for you. While this entire situation was as shocking to you as it was to a good portion of his crew, Whitebeard had apparently enjoyed your brief and brave interaction enough to at least try and pull you onto his ship. Whether it was for his own amusement, to have an extra set of hands in the kitchen for his massive crew, or whatever else was in his mind, you wouldn't know. What you would know was joining that crew under Whitebeard's name had been the best decision of your life.
And it answered your call.
Day in and day out did you find yourself cooking for Whitebeard, affectionately named 'Pops' by the entire crew, and all of your fellow crewmates. There was a lot and the cooks already on his ship were well versed in how to handle the crowd meaning you had to quickly adapt to keep up with them. It wasn't easy, but those three years of endlessly pushing yourself to learn this art definitely gave you the start you needed to keep up. Whitebeard's ship was massive. It was the biggest ship you've ever seen easily and it held enough people to fill up your entire Village. Day in and day out there was always noise happening, with people from all ways of life and backgrounds moving around you. The noise was endless even at night as a few stayed up late into the hours drinking and telling stories or threatening to fight one another over some small squabble that would be solved before the morning came. Days, then weeks, then months, then years would come to pass so fast on this ship.
Another two years, exactly, since your arrival- And you faced your biggest challenge yet; Ace.
Ace would join the Whitebeard crew shortly after you, making his distaste for the situation loudly known. Every day he would throw his body after the Captain in a desperate attempt to defeat him in some kind of fight for what you had assumed was his pride. From your experience so far, pirates didn't take too kindly to losing a fight and would often keep trying until they could no longer move. Whitebeard, however, was unaffected by these constant attempts at his life, almost always brushing Ace away with a firm hand and a few teasing words that left the man more fired up than before. When it would change, you weren't entirely sure. Almost like a blur, one day he couldn't stand Whitebeard's existence and was constantly at his throat in a flurry of blades and flames, and next, he was getting the Jolly Roger colored on his back. Ace and you had a teetering relationship throughout his early days on the ship. He acted like a caged animal, often striking out at anyone who got near. Marco had been the first to step close to him without coming away cursed and burned. You would be one of the next few, only approaching him when the others had eaten and you had noticed he was, once again, choosing to ignore the dinner to sulk against the railing. Unlike Marc, however, you wouldn't stay to chat when you slid a bowl of the soup you and the others had prepared, only making sure it wouldn't fall before you scuttled away into the night. While he didn't entirely hold a soft spot for you, he also wasn't cursing at your attempts to, in his eyes, 'pity him'. Even if the food went untouched, he would simply stare at you with an unreadable gaze before turning back to the sea. That changed when he fully accepted Whitebeard. Ace had been a serious, stern figure before he relaxed on the ship.
Now? He was a kid, much like you had been, falling asleep at horrible times in horrible places and laughing until he's red in the face at the dumbest of jokes. He got more physical in showing affection for his fellow crewmates, often appearing from nowhere to hook an arm around someone and pull them close as he tells them a story of his most recent adventure. And, somewhere along the line, your and his relationship also changed. Where you once silently slid bowls and plates to his side, you now openly invited him to the kitchen to taste test a new dish you had been experimenting with. He would often swing by there first when he would first return to the ship, knowing you would be in there and worrying about him. And, yes, he often fell asleep in that same kitchen while he listened to you talk, leading to him often waking up with an embarrassed smile at being caught. And as you felt your friendship develop over time, your worry for him grew as well. And while he still took risks, he had the strength to back it up and almost always returned unscratched. So, as time passed, it became very obvious that when a replacement was needed, he would be picked to fill the role of Second Division Commander.
And, of course, he said yes. The celebrations that night grew to unspeakable levels. Food was served plentifully, alcohol poured like water, and the voices that sang and yelled filled the once silent air. You had tried to join in, of course, wanting to spend more time next to the young man you've come to enjoy spending time with, but his brothers of the sea refused to give him up so easily. Instead, you would retire into the kitchen to spend time cleaning alone, allowing yourself some peace. The room wasn't soundproof of course, but the yells were kept at a more bearable pace in there and you could properly think.
"Yo!" At least, you could before a familiar voice cut you off while you were drying one of the plates that had been returned. Standing in the doorway was the man of the hour himself; Portgas D. Ace. While his familiar beads still dangled over his chest, his hat was tucked to hang off his neck instead, as though the wind had knocked it off on his journey to visit you. Familiar exposed flesh was tanned nicely from how often he went shirtless with the faint hue of a drunken flush covering his face and chest. A contagious smile spread over his face at having found you and he stepped into the kitchen. The moonlight that lit up his body was snatched away when the door shut behind him, instead leaving him in the glow of candles that you had lit to work in. The lighting from this did him plenty of justice as shadows emphasized the muscles he had developed since on the ship. While he had been very fit when he first arrived, he had definitely gained mass under the guiding hand of Whitebeard. Ace was turning into a handsome, powerful young man that you were almost ashamed to admit you found yourself staring at often. Including now.
"Yo?" Ace repeated, though less confidently as he took more steps to stand directly in front of you, one hand raised to try and startle you from the empty gaze you had been giving him. You gasped, startled at being caught, and cleared your throat.
"Oh, Ace. Shouldn't you be out there? Can't throw a party for someone who isn't there." A smooth save. Or, you had thought, but the grin on Ace's face was enough to convince you he wasn't buying anything you were selling. "Can't have a party without my favorite cook." And there it was. The familiar words that he had started saying a little over a year ago anytime you brought him food or snuck him little treats out at night.
His favorite cook.
And, of course, that had your cheeks flaring red, quickly averting in an attempt to hide that from him to avoid further teasing. With Ace growing more comfortable on the ship did he also grow more confident in the things he said. From flaunting his power to anyone who would challenge him to any sort of challenge, to shamelessly flirting with the cook that had been too nice to him, he had grown to overly cocky levels in that short time.
And it showed in how he grinned so brightly at your reaction.
"See? Only I can make my favorite cook blush all cute like that." His voice was edging on teasing, dipping just an octave too low to not make your heart speed up as you made the mistake of looking at him. While it hadn't been very obvious what he had come for in the beginning, with his charming smile and excited attitude at finding you, it was much more obvious now as he was hanging over you. Alcohol danced on the soft puffs of breath he released that dusted your cheek. The soft, warm air did nothing to quell the flush that was now spreading over your cheeks, dipping down to brush at the collar of your shirt. His eyes followed the coloring as it spread, seeing how your ears and cheeks and neck all lit up in a gentle, rosy color. Another step and his leg were pressing in between your two, pushing you back towards the counter you had just been facing as one hand curled to take the plate from you. Despite it having been freshly dried, he dropped it back into the sink without a second of hesitation. Both hands slipped to catch you at your waist, fingers lightly digging in as he easily lifted you to brace yourself on the edge of the counter. At eye level now, he grinned.
"Can't enjoy my party without a snack from my favorite cook either, hm?"
And this was another part of cocky Ace.
Somewhere in the time frame, where you would feed him chocolate-covered strawberries you snuck onto the ship for him and make sure to make him the special citrus drink he liked before bed, did these intimate moments start to form. Ace hadn't pushed you into anything you wouldn't have wanted, but they definitely sprung up seemingly out of nowhere. One day you were both in the pantry, with him helping you rearrange a few things that you couldn't exactly move, and next, he had you bent over one of the crates and being filled with his cum until it leaked out. While neither of you knew what changed, you both knew you weren't going to just stop with that one encounter in the pantry. You were both being as sneaky about it as you could be. Neither of you knew exactly how Whitebeard would react to his crew having affairs like this considering he viewed them all as his own family. You had no idea if he would welcome it happily or if he would throw you to the sea the moment he knew.
Well, he probably wouldn't go that far, but he would at least be disappointed and that felt worse, somehow.
So, moments like what was happening were stolen between moments when the rest of the crew was busy and you two were forgotten about in the heat of the moment. It was clever of Ace to use this party as a distraction for one such moment, but you knew the time you had would be limited considering this party was about him.
"Ace." You started, your own hands coming up to cup his cheeks to keep him focused on your words as you spoke. "You know they're going to come looking for you, right? It's a party about your, so we-"
"We can't take long." He finished, pressing a quick and fleeting kiss to your top lip. It wasn't a full kiss, but it left you longing and leaning out for one as he pulled back with an even bigger grin than before. "I know, I just came here for a mid-party snack."
And this time, he kissed you. A full, deep kiss as he angled his head to press as close as possible without causing discomfort. His hands that had previously been drawing light circles into your hip came up to squeeze at your back and side, pulling you until you could almost fall if his solid wall of muscle wasn't there to hold you up. With what Devil Fruit he had, the heat he radiated was always cranked up to a near uncomfortable level. Despite how much control he had over it, he would always be so warm that even from just this kiss you could feel sweat starting to gather between you both. The kiss deepened even further when his tongue swiped your lips open, earning a muffled gasp as a reward. He tasted of alcohol and the food you had just spent at least an hour preparing; a strange combination for sure. Ace kissed like a depraved, starving man. Devouring every inch of your mouth with a fierceness he showed in battle, his tongue was relentless in exploring. Sparks from this caused your heartbeat to immediately skyrocket, hands shaking when you tried to hold onto his chest to balance yourself out. A loud gasp followed from the kiss breaking apart as Ace curled his hands down to fight with the opening of your pants. Patience was not his virtue, but at the risk of ripping another pair of paints, he took his time with clumsy touches to finally pull them down.
You wore no underwear.
Whether it was by choice of convenience for these moments or for one less item of clothing to keep up with, you chose to ignore the extra garment. And you could tell Ace was thankful as his grin grew even more before he dropped at a speed so astonishing you thought he had vanished. Instead, he was kneeling before you, both hands curling around your thighs to pull you directly to the edge of the counter so your exposed core was right before him. Despite knowing you were both on limited time, Ace took his time admiring the sight before him. Usually, you were both rushing for the end so fast that he didn't even have a second to admire the figure before him. Nor did he have a chance to admire how easily worked up you got under his touch. Already you were soaked, with drops forming on the counter from the angle he had you at. The light of the candles reflected your core in a nice shine that had Ace already licking his lips. Of course, like many others, did this man enjoy the sex itself that came with these encounters, however, he much more enjoyed the joy of watching how worked up you get on his face. To go from muffling your moans into your hands and desperately quieting yourself so as to not be caught into someone clutching at his hair to demand more pleasure from him left him nearly creaming in his pants each time. And this would be no different. His thumbs would curve to hook against your lips and spread you open to reveal everything to him. From the moisture that continued to drip from your twitching hole to the swollen clit that begged for his attention, he had it all on display for his greedy eyes.
And his greedy eyes only would get the pleasure of this sight.
Patiently, you waited as he brought one thumb in slowly to start his process of teasing, circling the clit in a gentle, rubbing motion that had your legs already twitching. His gaze jerked up to you when the first soft gasp escaped, then it returned focus to his actions as he increased pressure. For each noise you made he doubled up on whatever had caused it. Was it the pressure? He increased it. The tip of his thumb pressing just right into that bundle of nerves? He repeated that action. An attentive lover, Ace was not one to miss out on the noises he could pull from you. That was exactly why when your eyes started to drift from the warm pleasure that eased into your body, did he make the sudden move to press forward and swipe his tongue from hole to clit. That one action alone had you arching nearly off the counter, legs curling to pull him by the shoulders further in. Whether it was by instinct or by choice, you urged him closer and, in turn, did he do that exact same motion again. And again. And again. Each time you began to adjust to the sharp pleasure, eyes not closing entirely so you could dare a glance down at the man settled between your legs.
And he was looking back.
Without hesitation this man would hold eye contact as he brought his hands back to your thighs, holding you in place as his tongue began to circle your clit in a teasing, slow motion. Each swipe or grind of these motions had your thigh muscles clenching, hands desperately grabbing at both the counter and your own mouth to muffle the noises threatening to come out. Between looking down at him and the moments your eyes closed did you try to keep an eye on the door. The last thing you needed was someone sneaking into the kitchen looking for Ace and finding you both like this.
"Hey." His muffled voice send vibrations through your clit that had you jerking, eyes watering before you looked down at him. You were panting over your own hand, choking back noises that escaped in one hiccup when you caught his stern gaze, tongue barely hanging out when he spoke again. "Keep looking at me. Only me." The demand in his voice left nothing to be discussed. That very tone he used left a knot in your throat that dropped right into your gut, stirring the pot of pleasure that had already been simmering in you. His voice alone was enough to send shivers through your body. A full spasm wracked your body when he latched his lips tight around your more sensitive part, sucking and slurping over the nub until you were sobbing and hiccuping from the pleasure. Whatever resistance you had to make noise was gone at that moment. Instead, your focus had shifted to those burning eyes of the man that was desperately trying to drink you dry. Reflexively you tried to close your legs when the pleasure started to peak too much, and each time you were stopped by his strong grip.
Through this all, he never looked away.
You don't know if it was the intense eye contact or the way he flicked his tongue as he sucked, but something caused you to roll in a wave of pleasure that left you crying out much louder than you meant to. Lost in this intense pleasure, did you barely notice how loud you were being. In fact, you didn't notice that at that moment, footsteps were creeping up outside the kitchen. Thankfully, the man below you noticed before you ever would have, reacted with that same astonishing speed to pull you off the counter and onto the ground behind the island in the center of the kitchen. That alone startled you into a squeaking noise that devolved the moment you finally noticed the steps, body tensing and freezing above Ace's own. While it wasn't shocking for a pirate to wander into the kitchen at this hour, you were lost as to who it could be considering the events happening outside.
Then a familiar whistle cut through the sound of the door swinging open and closing and you knew immediately it was Marco.
While you knew there was still a chance of being spotted, you felt your shoulders relax just slightly. Marco only came in here for more drinks or the occasional snack, both of which wouldn't be located on this side of the island that filled the entire kitchen. For this moment, you and Ace would be safe so long as you remain quiet.
Easier said than done the moment Ace picked back up with the gentle, slow swipes of his tongue. Had you not been so focused on the situation, you were certain a moan would have escaped and alerted Marco to the activities happening. But you were prepared and you shot a very shocked look to the young man that was absolutely grinning beneath you. Something in his eyes was burning at the danger of the situation, and it showed as he brought one hand to your lower back to guide you further up to completely cover his mouth and almost his nose. With your thighs casing his face in a warm hold did he return to his previous activity with a new encouragement. His licks, previously teasing, were now entirely focused on bringing you to the edge as fast as possible. The noises that almost escaped you were sealed behind tightly shut lips as your hands immediately dove to lace fingers through his locks. You tugged roughly, urging him to both continue and stop as the pleasure began to immediately mount higher and higher. The steps of Marco paused. Then the sounds of the pantry door opening followed before you heard a curious noise from him; as though he had discovered something new and fantastical. You tried to focus on the sounds of him to make sure he wasn't, for whatever reason, going to suddenly round the island, but that focus wavered from the sounds of him rummaging to the way that tongue encircled your clit before diving to swipe at your hole. The tip would press in just enough to make you clench before retreating and returning to slap against that sensitive knot. Heat boiled in your body, thrumming in pulses just under your skin. You felt way too hot from both the satisfaction and the man of fire trapped by your thighs. Marco suddenly shut the door and you felt the air in your lungs leave. Then he started to walk towards the entrance he had come in through and you allowed yourself to relax a little bit.
A mistake that had you releasing a choked noise you immediately muffled.
But it was too late; Marco's steps paused and you felt Ace's hands on your thighs tighten, though he didn't stop. Silence. Then he called your name curiously, as though in doubt of himself.
"Are you in here?" He asked into the air, louder than when he spoke your name. When nothing responded, despite how much you wanted to scream out as your muscles began to contract, Marco continued to leave. The sounds of the door shutting and clicking into place was a trigger enough for Ace to suddenly move, using that strength he had developed to flip your positions and pin you to the ground. When he pulled his head back to take a deep breath did you see the moisture trickling down his chin. Swiping his tongue to catch as much of your flavor as possible, Ace immediately dove back into work. It didn't take much more to push you over the edge. Your body thrashed lightly, knees pressing close to your face from the exposed position he forced you into. Sloppy, sloshing sounds as your essence flooded his tongue in pulsing waves filled the once silent kitchen and you openly released pitiful, desperate noises that were barely concealed under biting your arm. Ace never once looked away from you. Watching as your face contorted as you still tried so hard to at least muffle your cries of pleasure. He found himself releasing groans into your opening, feeling how it clenched around his waving tongue from the vibrations. Only when you were shaking like a leaf and tears were starting to gather in your eyes did he pull back with a loud, wet gasp. Your pants mixing with his deep gasps were the only noises as he eased your legs down onto the cool floor, thumbs rubbing circles into the marks he had left from holding you so tight. Your own fluid continued to drip from you and onto the floor in a mess you knew you'd have to wipe up before you left, but you didn't care. Not when Ace was staring down at you with those bright eyes and a slightly cocky grin on his face as he thummed your cheek slightly. A wet kiss was pressed to your forehead before he muttered quietly into the skin;
"That's my good cook, always taking care of me. Giving me what I want." A simple whisper, but the praise for basically doing nothing but cumming sent a small ripple through you that had you remembering that Ace himself hadn't cum yet. That this man was still straining against his shorts with his legs spread from the pressure the tight clothing put on him. Bringing one hand up and curling into the front of his shorts, you tugged lightly at the hem to bring his body slightly closer to your own and breaking him from whatever sappy stare he was holding.
"I'm not done taking care of you." You managed to say between your soft pants.
Ace could only grin.