The second installment (the sequel) to Ace of Spades is now out.
Read 'The Hanged Man' once you've finished this one.
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A rascal with a penchant for making friends with the wrong people, you were often regarded as a troublemaker by...
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His arms around your body are as warm as an open flame as he reached out for you and enveloped you into his chest, snuggling up right against your neck, and you whimper, quiet and soft at the press of him behind you. Overwhelmed by the smell of him on the sheets, pillows, and the sheer strength of his body on you.
The touch of his nose on the back of your neck stirred you awake and the feel of something harder against your leg had you moaning out quietly, breathless and subdued, eyes blinking away the remnants of sleep, and you realize when you look up at the clock that only an hour had passed since you fell asleep, making it four in the morning.
"Peep," He murmured against your skin, voice heavy and deep from the sleep. He pressed a kiss to your spine, sending a thrill down your body at the unexpected affection as he pressed even closer, legs tangled with yours, and his arms draped heavily over your midsection.
Maybe it was because you hadn't expected him to be so affectionate with you so quickly, but you were quite dumbfounded at this new change of events. Who knew he could be so clingy? Or, for a lack of better words, protective?
Maybe you were just the weird one and you couldn't accept the fact that he felt this way? You were an over-thinker, after all. It'd do you good to just accept things as they were like Luffy would, you thought.
Sluggish and warm, you curled up tighter against his broad chest, your breath suddenly swelling, eyes popping open. Startled by the overwhelming feeling of happiness and the intensity of his desire for you, clearly evident by the member that continuously prodded at your leg--sending a massive mess of redness to your already tinted face. Not three hours earlier you were freezing in the rain, injured, and crying, thinking he'd really leave you. And now, you were in the arms of Ace, warm and safe.
The ravenette stirred in his sleep, long ebony lashes fluttering against his face, accentuating his deep freckles before they opened up, squinting at the darkness of the room--irises constricting and dilating to focus on your pinched expression.
Then, with a tired groan, he moved behind you, lips traveling up your spine to rest atop the shell of your ear, his sigh grumbling and honey-sweet, "If you keep moving around like that, I'm afraid I'll get the wrong idea."
You started twiddling with your fingers under the sheets, nervous and exhilarated by this new prospect until his hand found yours, rough and heavy, yet inviting, asking for permission, to which you gave, hesitantly.
You... wanted this. You wanted it bad, for some reason.
That feeling he gave you had your legs squeezing in some sort of desire you knew not of, and the lightheadedness and the heady feeling of desire overclouded all rationality, but not so much that you'd lose sane judgment--no, you were still conscious enough to make a purposeful decision.
