ᴀᴄᴇ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴘᴀᴅᴇꜱ

Warning

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Ace tiredly scrubbed at his greasy bangs before walking up to the mirror and glancing at his tired visage, the bags under his eyes unusually darker even as he rubbed at them.

Then with a grimace, the boy trudged over to his bathroom and walked into the shower, his fingers reaching over to turn the knobs.

When the water became scorching hot, he walked under the heat and held his face up to the faucet, the grime and anger all melting away under the pain.

He didn't understand his fascination with heat or fire, but somehow, it always calmed him when he was feeling distressed or out of place.

So, with a hand pressed flat against the tiled wall, he sighed out and leaned against it, his forehead resting against the steamy panels as his breaths came out in wafts; hot and humid.

Silently then, the man watched as the strands of his hair slipped down his face, the small droplets splashing onto the floor without resistance as his hand came up to wipe at the heat from his face.

What the hell was he doing?

How could one person do this much to him?

Why was he letting you do this to him?

Even now, all he could think about was you; your pained expression and your curled hands and those eyes--those eyes of absolute heartbreak and defeat.

Fuck.

With a sigh, he gripped at the panel of his shower before his hand wandered down to his slowly hardening cock.

Even now...

All he could imagine was your hands roaming his body--those perfect fingers trailing every scar, every tattoo before wandering down to his hardened member.

The man gripped the base at it and groaned out when he envisioned those lips around them and your eyes turned up at him--all glassy and perfect as you choked on it when he pushed against you harder.

Then, with a broken moan, he quickly thrust into his hands and finished against the wall.

"Fuck..."

Fuck.

When he looked down at the sticky substance coating his fingers, he felt a shadow of anger loom over him. Before he even knew what he was doing, he was pounding his fist against the wall before they began to crack and bled.

All he felt was this unending rage and a need to pour his anger out somewhere.

The only question was, where?

What could he possibly do to rid himself of this building frustration?

However, when he couldn't come up with a single solution, he fell down against the panels again, his free hand going up to rake at his wet locks as a guttural groan escaped from his throat.