by Tro
Ace's hands were always unnaturally hot, but sliding along the chilled skin of his exposed chest, they were liquid fire. Smoker shivered, as much from the almost painful sensation as the cold, caught between flame and a snowbank at his back.
"Get off me, Portgas. It's too cold out here for this," Smoker growled, but made no effort to dislodge the lean form straddling him.
The pirate chuckled, fingers dancing under the marine's heavy jacket. "Don't worry, old man. I'll keep you warm," Ace purred, "Unless, of course, you can't take it." He arched a dubious eyebrow, shit-eating grin plastered across his freckled face.
"Shut up, pirate." One large hand shot up to harshly cup the laughing boy's head, dragging him down for a rough kiss. There were much better uses for Ace's mouth that talking, after all.
Denied the abrasive chatter of the brat in question, the snowy landscape was quiescent and serene. However, the sudden quiet brought to his attention a soft hissing sound, just barely audible, but undeniably annoying in it's consistency. Glancing away from the boy's face to glare at the perpetrator, Smoker had to roll his eyes.
Thin tendrils of steam poured off the bare expanse of the pirates back as he bent over Smoker, each new flake of snow flash sizzling on contact. It was distracting.
Trust the loudmouthed pirate to find a way to irritate him even with said mouth otherwise occupied.
Without warning, Smoker flipped them, interposing his body between Ace and the falling snow. "I hate you sometimes, brat."
Laughing eyes glittered up at him. "I know," Ace smiled dreamily, then his arms wrapped around the marine's back and pulled him down into warmth once more.
The snow was quickly forgotten.