Smoker stood under the ice cold spray of the shower and tried to wash everything away. The disgusting stench of too much alcohol that seemed to stick to his skin, the bile in his throat from too much drinking and smoking, the blood on his hands when he punched a hole in one of his walls in frustration, the traces Ace used to leave on his skin with his tongue-
Ace. He tried to wash Ace away, the memories, the feelings, the pain.
Didn't work, though. When he looked down at the water draining off the shower tub he had to think about Ace and how they had have sex in here the other night. If he would walk into his living room right now, he would still see Ace's lighters on the couch table, and if he would look at the door right now, he'd remember how he had Ace pressed against it, and fuck, all the memories in his bedroom-
Why did he feel so bad for kicking Ace out? The next day, when he had been somewhat sober again, before he started his heavy drinking again, he had noticed that all of Ace's clothes were still on his bathroom floor, that he had kicked him out of the house almost naked. So Ace must've gone home barely clothed – and Grand Line City was not known for its safe neighborhoods.
So he did worry about Ace. But then he was still mad at him. So fucking mad. And then he was mad at himself. Really, Ace only a shipwright? I mean, are you slow in the head or something? The first night you caught him, he was speeding on his bike in that area of town. Yeah, his bike, a custom made one with flames all over. That had been the first major hint he just ignored. Numerous hints followed. Ace had flexible hours, he would work even at two in the morning. Then there were Ace's slight injuries. A scratch here, a small wound there, some major bruises – why had he been so blind?
He took one deep breath and tried to calm down, don't smash your fist through the shower tiles, take another deep breath, don't think about Ace, ignore the ache in your heart. He turned the shower off, dried himself with a towel and put some clothes on. He went to the living room and got another bottle of liquor from his stash. Damn, there weren't many bottles left. He started drinking again.
There was nothing he could do, besides drinking and smoking. He could go to the gym, working out till his muscles screamed and he was coughing up blood, yeah, that sounded like a good idea, but shit, he was pretty drunk by now. And he was still a cop. He didn't really feel like losing his driver's license or even his job because he was caught drunk driving. He knew that Vergo was looking for any small excuse to get him fired. So no gym.
He contemplated calling Tashigi and talking to her about everything. He could confess that he did the unforgiveable. Getting involved with an undergrounder. Helping said undergrounder to escape from jail. Letting him rip his heart out.
He took another gulp from his bottle. Oh no, he was so not calling Tashigi drunk and telling her why he was such a major fuck up. He should just go straight to bed again. He glared at his watch: around midnight. Well, he did sleep basically the last twelve hours, but maybe he could go to work tomorrow again.
But what would he do at work? Trying to catch Firefist? Haha, funny.
He groaned and drank some more. His life was suddenly so meaningless again. Empty. Without purpose.
He should just go to bed.
But when he lay down, eyes closed, all he saw was an image of Ace, naked, beneath him, and looking up to him with those deep black eyes. In those moments he believed, in those moments there was no Firefist, no underground, nothing between them. Between the sheets they had only been two bodies who were attracted at each other with an undeniable force – stop thinking about him; that leads to nothing –
Smoker tried to shut his brain down, to erase all thoughts, just don't think at all, do you feel it? Sweet sleep was coming, easing you into a dark nothingness where you can't think-
CLASH.
Smoker bolted upright in his bed. What the fuck? What had been this noise? Sounded almost like a broken window-
There were more noises, shuffling, more breaking glass-
Where did it come from? Smoker slowly crept out of his bed, carefully opened the door to his bedroom and sneaked down the hallway. The sounds definitely came from his living room.
Well, you shitty burglar, you have definitely picked the wrong house to break in. Smoker grinned. Yeah, actually he should thank the burglar, he really needed someone to beat badly. Yeah, a nice fight would be a perfect outlet for his rather black mood.
Slow now, you're almost there. The intruder doesn't necessarily has to notice that he was already on his heels, yeah, right there in his living room, there was a dark figure crouched on the ground-
"Motherfucking shit!" The figure on the ground cursed.
Of course he knew that voice. He should have known.
"ACE!"
"Oh, hey Smoker-"
Smoker stomped over to where Ace was crouching on the ground and gripped the collar of his shirt and yanked him of the ground: "What the FUCK, ACE?" he shouted.
"Don't get so mad-"
"What is this supposed to mean? What the fuck? OF COURSE I'M FUCKING MAD!"
"Don't scream at me, ouch, it hurts-"
"I'm not supposed to scream at you when you just broken into my home! Why didn't you knock at the door?"
"Well… I don't know…figured you wouldn't have let me in-"
"Hell no! You broke my fucking window!" Smoker yelled and observed the damage done to his window. There was glass shattered all over the living room floor.
Ace winced at his words.
Ace.
He came back to him.
He switched the lights on and dismayed when he noticed that Ace's right arm was covered in blood. He saw that there was blood on some shards of glass as well.
"Shit, Ace, your arm." He rushed over to Ace and tried to grasp the seriousness of the injury. Ace looked down on his arm, surprise showing in his face.
"Oh" he said. "Doesn't hurt as bad as it looks."
Smoker grabbed Ace's arm and observed it closely. Blood dripped on the floor. There were severe cuts all over his forearm, and judging from the amount of blood Ace was losing his artery was cut. Fuck. His arm needed sewing, now. Ace seemed to come to the same realization.
"Come on, I'll drive you to the hospital-" he suggested.
"Don't worry old man, it's just some blood. You got a needle and some yarn?"
Smoker looked at Ace incredulous. "You wanna stitch yourself back together?"
"Yeah. It's not the first time I'm doing this." Ace shrugged. More blood was dripping on the floor. Shit. Probably Ace was right, since a ride to the hospital would take way too long, considering the vast amount of blood Ace was leaving on his floor in no time. He hurried of into the bathroom and retrieved his first aid kit.
When he bustled back into the living room, Ace sat on the couch and tried to stop the bleeding with his other hand.
"Hand me the needle-" Ace demanded.
"No way you're gonna stitch yourself back up. Let me do it. I'm not shaking from blood loss."
Ace nodded in defeat and arranged his bloody arm so it was sitting in Smoker's lap. Carefully he wiped most of the blood away, while he still tried to press the edges of the major wounds together, so no more blood would leak out.
"I need a hand here-" he said and Ace understood immediately where his assistance was needed and helped Smoker press his wounds together.
Shit. Ace's wounds were pretty serious and he did worry about his injuries, but damn, he also felt a weird, rather misplaced joy racing through his body, that Ace was finally that close to him again.
While he rummaged in the first aid kit for a needle and some yarn he tried to distract Ace with some questions from the pain. "So how did you mess your arm up like this?" He finally found a needle and some yarn, but fuck, getting the yarn through the eye was rather difficult with his huge hands.
"Well" Ace started, "I wanted to see you. I figured you wouldn't open the door, so I went through the window. I just punched right through it to reach for the handle to open it. When I withdrew my arm I didn't really pay attention-"
"Are you drunk?"
"Pretty much, yeah."
He sighed. That explained it. The yarn was finally through the eye. "This is gonna hurt."
"I can take it."
He started sewing Ace's arm back together. "Why did you wanna see me in the first place?"
"You… I never had the chance to explain last night."
"Explain? Explain why you are a vicious undergrounder?" But when Smoker said those words he noticed that they lacked their usual bite. He couldn't really be angry at a drunken Ace, almost sitting in his lap, looking pretty miserable, while he stitched him back together.
Ace only looked at him with his huge black eyes. "I was seven when I was kicked out of the orphanage."
"What?"
"Yeah. I'm not the only one with a pretty fucked up childhood." Ace winced, probably from his last stitch. "You know, I never met our parents, Luffy and mine. Luffy is my little brother, three years younger. We were together in that shitty place that called itself orphanage. Those were seven dark years for me. They beat the children. If you didn't make your bed properly, they beat you. If you spilled something, you were beaten. Most of the kids were older than us, and they beat us too."
Smoker had heard of those government facilities. The money that was supposed to go in there often got lost in the pockets of corrupt authorities.
"You know, Luffy's appetite is even bigger than mine, can you imagine that?"
"Hardly."
"Yeah, and he was always like this. Even when he was four years old. He ate everything he came across. One day, I can't even remember what we did wrong, they punished us with three days without food. After two days Luffy couldn't take it anymore, I mean he was a four year old kid, crying because he was hungry… I broke into the kitchen that night to get some food for him, and they caught me. We were thrown out of that orphanage in the same night."
"Thrown out?" he gulped. Damn, you simply can't throw four and seven year old kids out of an orphanage. You can't. But he knew that the world was crueler than he wanted it to be.
"Yeah, kicked out. Out on the streets. We were orphans. Of course we had nowhere to go."
Fuck. That was harsh, harsh and cruel.
Ace visibly trembled a bit. "The first nights were the worst. We were hungry and cold. I gave all the food I could steel to Luffy. I almost died back then. We slept beneath bridges and behind trashcans. I…I never want to go back there. Never. But Luffy and I adapted quickly to life on the streets. We were cute looking kids, we were quite good at begging and stealing money from unsuspecting women. But it was hardly enough for food. We still slept in cardboard boxes and we didn't even have shoes."
"Why didn't you go to the police?" Smoker asked, but he already knew the reason why.
"We got kicked out of a government facility. If cops saw us begging, they kicked us and yelled at us. We hated the government. We still hate the government. How can you be so cruel?"
Smoker couldn't say anything in defense. He knew that there were cops out there who would do exactly what Ace had just reported.
"Well, after the first dreadful weeks a small street gang noticed us. We started running errands for the gang and I guess that's how our underground career started."
"So you were seven when you-"
"Yeah. That was my childhood. The first half of it I was beaten in that shitty orphanage, the second half of it I was beaten on the streets. There were always rookies that are stronger than you. Running with a gang meant a certain kind of protection. Of course you were still beaten by other members of the gang who were higher up, but that was fine, well, that was our best option back then."
Smoker nodded. He could understand and he felt his heart ache with compassion. Life on the streets was fucking cruel. He finished sewing the longest of the gashes marring Ace's forearm. Next one.
"One night I was running some errands for the gang and I came across a huge deal down at one of the old warehouses at the harbor. I managed to snatch a box of whatever they were dealing. Later when I opened that box together with Luffy, we discovered bunch of weapons. That was the start of our own underground career. We sold those weapons and that's how it started. Some years later we met this other kid, Zoro, and he joined our little gang. We were just a bunch of rookies that tried to survive on the rough streets of Grand Line City." Ace winced again and clutched with his uninjured hand Smoker's leg.
Damn you, brat. Your touch shows me what I miss if you're not with me, even if you only clutch my leg in pain.
But he concentrated on stitching Ace's arm back together. His pants and his couch were full of blood by now, but he didn't care. The most important thing was that Ace didn't die from blood loss. That damn brat was so fucking reckless.
Ace continued his story: "Well, with Zoro in our small gang things were slightly becoming better. We even had enough money to rent a room! Electricity didn't work, but water did, and you can't imagine the luxury of running water after six years on the streets. We even had enough money for a decent meal a day. But life was still dangerous and harsh out there. Our landlord charged us an outrages amount of money for that shit hole, but we had no choice since we were just kids, I was the oldest one of us and I had been thirteen… Yeah, and to earn money we had to deal with all kinds of shit…One day a man suddenly stands in our shitty room and we were all like: 'What the fuck? Who are you? Get out!' But the man wouldn't leave. His name was Shanks and he was one of the big underground bosses out there. He had heard of us, a bunch of kids causing some trouble, wrecking a lot of havoc here and there, busting up some deals and actually selling their own shit. We all thought: 'Shit, we got too close to the big fishes out there, that's it-' But instead of eliminating us, Shanks offered us a job within the Galleya-Company."
"And you accepted."
"Well-" Ace chuckled. "Not at first. I suspected some kind of trap, you know, I've seen so much of the world and nothing was ever good or for free, but Luffy and Zoro accepted right away. For some messed up reason they simply trusted the man that suddenly showed up in our shitty hole. Well, today I can say their trust wasn't misplaced, but I didn't know that back then. But I could never leave Luffy behind, so I agreed too. And suddenly we all had a real place to stay. A real job, too. Shanks even made us go to school. Damn. I hated him when he made me go to school, but if I look back now I should thank him…"
"Shanks is the leader of the Galleya-Company?"
"Yeah, together with Eisberg. You know, Shanks is responsible for dealing and shit, and Eisberg for building ships and stuff."
"So this Shanks guy got you guys off the streets and made you all work in his company?"
"Oh no, it wasn't like this, haha, you make it sound like child labor-"
"Because it does sound like it-"
"No shit, I wanted to work back then, I didn't want to give everything up I had worked so hard for to achieve it – but Shanks and Eisberg made me go to school and quit working, they both said if graduate high school I can start working for them… I still worked in the yard after school, it was fun, and I've been kinda wild back then, I wouldn't stay off the streets, so Shanks finally agreed to let me work for him… And that's all I'm doing ever since."
"So you've never been on the right side of the law."
"The right side of the law kicked me out when I was seven."
Smoker couldn't really say anything to that. He guessed that Ace was right, in some twisted way. If he would've been in that situation… Alone on the streets, with a little brother to protect… what were your choices? You don't really get that big of a choice in that kind of situation…
He couldn't help it, but he felt compassion towards Ace and his brother. He knew what it meant to be all alone out there. He had been lucky that Hina felt responsible for him, but now Hina's body was long cold, and her murderers were still running around, free, uncharged – and he fucking owed it to Hina for everything that she had done for him to revenge her, fuck, he still needed to revenge his family in the first place.
And still, Ace was here, in his arms, he was stitching him back together – and Ace had never known something else than the underground, while he despised it with every fiber of his being. How is this supposed to work?
It ain't working.
But why did it feel so right to have Ace right there, next to him? What if Ace would just stop being an undergrounder, he could get a real job, on the right side of the law – but as if Ace could read his thoughts he said: "I could never leave the Galleya-Company."
"Why that?"
"They are my family."
And for some screwed up reason he could understand.
Family.
That was such an appealing word. Maybe because he had lost his entire family when he had been so young, maybe he could relate to Ace and his need for a family, his loyalty for his family.
"I think I understand now." Smoker sighed. He was done stitching the last huge gash on Ace's arm and started wrapping gauze around his arm.
"You do this really good." Ace commented.
"And you are rather drunk."
Ace laughed. "As if you didn't drink at all in the last twenty four hours!"
Well, there were various empty bottles standing around. And he wasn't sober after all.
"Yeah."
"Yeah. You know, that had been pretty mean of you, kicking me out like that. I got a huge bruise on my back."
Smoker felt immediately a little guilty. But then he remembered: Ace was Firefist. Now he had some explanations why Ace was a member of the Galleya-Company, but he still didn't know what was behind the whole Firefist thing. "I understand that you are a Galleya worker, but how's this related to Firefist?"
"Firefist is just my pseudonym for all the beautiful fires I create all over Grand Line City-"
"So there is no real reason-"
"I love fire?"
"That ain't no real reason."
"I love the sight of fire? The warmth of fire? The colors of fire?"
"Still no real reason-"
"I love lighters, sparks-"
"Just stop talking." Smoker shook his head in disbelief, but he couldn't help but smile. He carefully put some tape around the wound, and that was it.
"You're all wrapped up."
"Thanks- and by the way, it hurts like hell-"
"I mean, what the fuck were you thinking?"
"I wasn't really thinking at all that moment-"
"Why doesn't that surprise me." He got up and looked at the mess they had created all over the living room. There practically lay most of the window shattered on the ground, empty bottles of whiskey were standing around, a ripped open first aid kit, several ashtrays full of cigar butts, some rests of gauze and yarn, and all over it was Ace's blood, on his pants, on his hands and arms, on the couch, on the shards of glass, on the floor, and all over Ace too.
"Wait here." Smoker instructed Ace.
"I ain't going nowhere."
Smoker quickly washed his hands and his arms clean of Ace's blood. He watched with tired eyes how the red drops fell down on the white porcelain sink and slowly ran down to the drain. He had a headache. What the fuck, Ace? Just breaking into his house like this? Almost dying of blood loss in his living room? What the fuck? Telling him all about his fucked up past – and he had no reason to distrust him, hell, he fucking knew how those government facilities looked, fuck, why did his heart ache so much when he imagined a seven year old Ace out on the streets, begging in the rain, fuck, he was angry, angry at the government, angry at authorities, angry, so angry, angry at himself for faltering.
Because that was exactly what he did. When he had wrapped Ace up he had smelled him, he had felt him close again, his warmth, he had heard his voice, and if that wasn't enough for making him doubt his decision to kick Ace out, it was the story of his past that touched his heart. Fuck. He always thought that the Blackbeards had ripped his heart out twenty-five years ago. But apparently he got it back, right here, he felt it beating and aching in his chest, Ace must've given it back to him somewhere along the way.
Fuck. He smashed his fist down on the sink.
It fucking hurt.
Finally there was no more blood on his arms and hands. He didn't know what to do. He couldn't forgive Ace so easily. He was still an undergrounder. Staying with Ace, hell, loving Ace meant spitting on Hina's grave, meant spitting on the grave of his family.
He had a fucking headache from all this shit.
Why did Ace have to make it so difficult? Why couldn't Ace have stayed away, so he could still hate him?
"You staying in there forever?" he heard Ace call from the living room. He splashed some water in his face and wet a towel so he could remove some of the blood from the couch and clean up Ace a bit. He went back into the living room and Ace was exactly where he had left him, sitting on the couch, lay back in the cushions, head in his neck, staring up at the ceiling, splattered with blood.
"Here." He handed him the towel, but Ace struggled wiping the blood from him with only his left hand. Smoker sighed and sat down next to him, took the towel from his hand – their fingers brushed for a moment, but he ignored the tingle in his fingers – and started wiping some blood smudges form Ace's face.
And as always when he was touching Ace, time seemed to flow slower, life had its own melody and it was only Ace and him, his eyes, his black eyes following every single movement of him – stop.
You spit on the grave of your parents.
When most of the blood was cleaned away he threw the towel away and got a new bottle of liquor from his stash. He needed a drink now. No shit. And a cigar. He sat down on the couch as far as possible from Ace and poured himself probably his twentieth drink that night. He lit his cigar with one of Ace's lighters that still lay on the couch table.
After some moments of silence where he smoked his cigar and drank his liquor Ace finally asked: "What now?"
"What do you mean?"
"Where are we, Smoker? What is this?"
Ace looked so hurt and lost in that moment that he was tempted to just scoot over and hug Ace, wrap his arms around him and take him to bed with him, he was tempted to tell him that it was alright, that he didn't mind, that they could continue their relationship – but that would've been a lie.
He did mind that Ace was an undergrounder. It was the crucial difference for him. He would have forgiven many things, hell, he could even forgive that Ace liked to play with fire from time to time – but he couldn't ignore that Ace was not only involved with the underground on some superficial basis, no, Ace was down to his neck immersed in the spider web of gang criminality.
He'd spit on the grave of his parents, of his brother, of his sister, of Hina.
So his answer was no. This was nothing.
He looked at Ace, and fuck, why couldn't his heart stop aching? "I can't. You are what you are. I understand – but this, whatever we had, it means nothing. It's over for good. Please don't come back to this house, don't come back to me. It's over."
And fuck, why did everything hurt so much? He hated seeing Ace like this, pale, no life in his eyes, some blood stains and scratches all over him – he looked so defeated. As if the fire inside of him suddenly smothered.
You did this. You did smother him.
"I get it." Ace said, and fuck, he hated the empty, lifeless voice of his. "I won't come back here. I'm sorry I broke your window." He stood up and staggered to the door.
"You wanna go home like this?"
"Yeah. I'm not welcome here no longer."
"Fuck, Ace. You're hurt, I basically hat to stitch your whole arm back together. No way I'm letting you go home like this, or let you ride that death machine of yours."
"Then give me a ride."
"I'm pretty drunk."
"You craven bastard, I rode drunk over here-"
"And what good did it to you? You stay here. You can have the couch."
Ace only looked at him with his huge black eyes and finally nodded. "Fine. But you're gonna do something about the shards everywhere. I don't feel like going to the bathroom at night and stepping on shards."
Shards. Yeah, that was probably the right word for his state of mind: He felt like his life was in tiny, sharp shards. "Yeah, just sit back down. I'll get you a pillow, a blanket and a glass of water."
Ace nodded and sat back down.
He quickly found a spare blanket and grabbed a pillow for him. He put a glass of water on the couch table and started sweeping most of the broken glass away. When he was done cleaning most of the mess he looked over to Ace, who was already under that blanket, eyes closed, with a strained expression on his face. His arm must hurt like hell, he realized. Yeah, and his heart probably too. He felt the overwhelming urge to go over there and put a hand in Ace's ruffled hair, tell him that he was going to be fine, but shit, he was the reason for the scowl on his face. He sighed.
"Goodnight Ace" he whispered, but either Ace didn't hear him or he chose to ignore him.
He went in his bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. He looked ten years older than he was.
I hope you did the right thing, Smoker, I really hope you did.
He sighed again and buried his face in his hands. This was all messed up. He went in his bedroom and just fell to bed, under the covers and waited for sleep to come.
Ace woke up and he didn't recognize the place at first - where the fuck was he and why did his arm hurt like hell? Then he made out the shapes of several liquor bottles standing around. Smoker's living room. Right. It was still dark outside, only the moon shone brightly through the damaged window and helped him make out the outlines of the bottles.
Shit, he had been too dumb. Breaking into Smoker's house like this, almost tearing his arm off. That's what you get for your fucking impulsive decisions.
Why did he wake up in the first place? Oh, yeah, his bladder. The amount of alcohol he drank before he came over took its toll. He quietly went into the familiar bathroom and took care of his needs. He lingered a bit in there and looked at the shower.
Damn you, Smoker. The sex they had in there.
Damn you.
Damn you for listening, damn you for understanding, and damn you for still not taking me back.
He was on his way back to the couch, when he lingered. He hesitated for a second or two.
Fuck it.
Fuck it all.
Fuck you, Smoker.
He turned around and marched straight into Smoker's bedroom.
This is not the end.
He quietly tapped over to Smoker's large bed and slid under the covers, carefully not to touch Smoker's heat emitting body. He took a deep breath in and counted to three.
One.
Two.
Three.
"What the fuck? LEAVE!" Smoker yelled. He had totally predicted this reaction.
"No."
"I tell you brat, if you don't get out this exact moment-"
"Remember the first night we met?"
"Get out-"
"I had been speeding, right?"
"Damn obnoxious brat-"
"You know the reason why I've been speeding?"
"For fun?" Sarcasm was dripping from Smoker's voice, but finally he was responding to what he had to say.
"No. That night I was actually racing after some Blackbeards. I came across them on accident and I started following them."
"Why would you wanna follow Blackbeards?"
"Because I'm hunting him down. Blackbeard. Blackbeard and every single one of his pack of rats."
"Why… why are you doing this?"
"You think all of us undergrounders are the same. You think we are all violent fuckfaces, just like Blackbeard and his bunch of shit-eating motherfuckers, but we're not. There are boundaries we'd never step over. For example hurt innocents. Hurt children or women. Those are red lines for us. And the Blackbeards crossed them, many times. That alone would be a reason for me to hunt them down. You know, the Galleya-Company and the Blackbeards had been enemies since I can think back, but then that fucker Blackbeard made the hunt personal. You're not the only one who suffers from a loss caused by Blackbeard, you know this?"
"I didn't-"
"Don't you dare interrupt me. His name was Thatch. And I fucking loved Thatch. Blackbeard murdered him over a triviality. Thatch had been like a brother to me, he was a worker of the Galleya-Company, and in the beginning, when I had been really an impudent brat, he was the one who made me believe in the company, who made me fit in. He was my first new brother within the Galleya-Company. And then, not a year later, Blackbeard comes along and fucking murders him. I've been there. I saw his dead body. You don't hurt my brothers, you simply don't." He shivered. The memory of Thatch's dead body still made him react that strongly. "Since that day I'm out for the hunt after Blackbeard. I've been close and I took out some of the men who were close to him, but shit, Blackbeard is heartless, he didn't mind it when his subordinates were killed, he only saw those losses as slight disturbances. But it made him more careful, and lately it had been fucking hard to get any trace of the Blackbeards. So the night we met, shit, that had been the last useful trace. The moment you stopped me, shit, I had been so fucking mad at you. I felt like you took the last straw from me. But I guess I swallowed my anger and faced you. You know the rest."
"Is it… true?"
"Why the fuck would I lie to you? I fucking hate Blackbeard. Remember that day when your girl arrested me for defying a police officer? The fuckers in that cell were Blackbeards. Pretty low in rank, though, but nevertheless, they had been Blackbeards. Of course they recognized me. I'm quite notorious among them. Did you notice the emblem stitched on their leather jackets? It said BB. So you know in future: Each time you notice a patch that says BB on someone's jacket - shoot that motherfucker in the head."
He sat up and looked down on the broad frame of Smoker beneath the covers. The only light in the room came from the moon shining outside; its light was being dimmed by the thin curtains. But even in the faint light of the moon Ace could tell that Smoker lay motionless on his back, eyes open, only listening, staring at the ceiling.
"You know, Smoker, I should be angry at you, because you're the cop here, and everyone out on the streets knows that the Blackbeards are in the cahoots with the cops-"
"Not all the cops."
"It doesn't matter. What matters is that the Blackbeards don't even need to fear the police anymore."
Smoker slowly turned his head and looked up at him. In the dim light of the room it looked like two black rubies were looking right through him. "I know. I don't wanna boast, but I know that I'm a damn capable cop. Ever wondered why I'm only head of the arson investigation department and only arresting kids who lit some trashcans on fire?"
Ace didn't need to answer that rhetorical question.
"They put me there to have me out of the way. There have been only two others up there that were capable of keeping the Blackbeards and the steady flow of money in check the Blackbeards were bribing the whole system with. One of them had been Hina, and you know what happened with her. The other one was Kuzan, but shit, no one knows what happened to him. How do you fight an enemy, who dines with the police president?"
"You just never give up. You fight dirty. You fight in the shadows. And you light everything on fire that is in the way between you and Blackbeard. Everything. And if you burn down the whole world in the process."
"Except the innocents."
"Innocents don't burn, Smoker. Only true sins are able to burn."
They both were silent for a while. Ace listened to Smoker's breathing. The small sounds never failed to calm his raging mind.
After what seemed a peaceful eternity, Smoker asked: "So that was what you did the other night? Burn some Blackbeards on your path of revenge?"
"You mean the night you found my lighters? The night where you shouted at me? The night you kicked me out? Last night?"
"Yeah"
"You told me about Zeff and the 'Baratie', remember?"
"Yeah"
"Well, the adoptive son of Zeff is the lover of my bro Zoro. And you don't hurt my brothers. Or the friends of my brothers. Also Zeff had been an old friend of Shanks too. What Don Krieg had done was basically a slap in our faces. He provoked us. So we paid back what he had done. We lit his hideout on fire and killed him, just like he had killed Zeff."
"I understand."
"That's all you have to say? You understand?"
But instead of an answer Smoker lifted his massive arm and gently traced the outline of his face. He shivered under his touch.
Smoker, I missed you.
Ace tried to calm his racing heart, his trembling body, and slowly moved over to where Smoker was laying. He lowered himself next to Smoker and sucked in a deep breath of air when he finally lay right next to Smoker, his side touching Smoker's. He smelled Smoker, fuck, why was he trembling so much, why did affect Smoker him so much?
Smoker stirred next to him. He's not moving away from me, isn't he?
But Smoker simply turned around, so he faced him now. There were no words needed. No words.
He released a shaky breath and Smoker wrapped his heavy arms around him, pressed him close, and buried his face in the crook of his neck.
They stayed like this forever. Close, so close. Smoker felt so familiar, and yet so different, so strong, and yet so defeated. He felt Smoker's strong heart beat next to his; he felt his hot breaths on his neck, skin on skin.
I missed you.
Ace couldn't help it, he needed more of Smoker, more body contact, more heat, he pressed his body closer to the big one around him, he clutched Smoker's back in desperation. Fuck you, Smoker, I'll never let you go again.
Smoker responded to his need and pulled him even closer, their legs entangled and a moan slipped from his lips. Ace gasped for air and placed a small kiss on Smoker's neck, fuck, the taste of his skin, he tasted like smoke and musk, and he believed he could taste desperation.
Smoker turned his head and looked at him, simply looked at him, and he stared back at him, back in his dark eyes, and there were still no words needed. Finally Smoker lowered his head and their lips met, fuck, the feeling, too much, don't kiss me like this, don't-
But of course Smoker didn't stop, his lips were on fire, fuck, Smoker, his taste, his tongue, his mouth – it was slow at first, a slow, delicious kiss, they were both divulging in feeling each other's mouth again, tasting what seemed lost. There was no frenzied need, not yet, but they both knew it was soon to come. But first Ace needed to reassure himself that this was really Smoker, he was kissing Smoker, he was tasting Smoker, after they both broke so much – fuck, Smoker, I want you, I need you, don't you ever dare to leave me again –
The kiss became more desperate, no need for air.
Hunger.
They both were so fucking hungry.
Smoker was above him, pinning his arms above his head, kissing, biting, licking, shit, he loved Smoker when he was so dominating above him, Smoker ground his hips into his, shit, he responded with all his body was capable off, their mouths clashed, collided, and they bit each other, tongue, lips, heat-
"Smoker-" Ace moaned when he felt Smoker's tongue trail hot kisses down his neck, fuck, he sucked, shit, it almost felt as if he was marking him-
"Don't stop-" he panted.
But Smoker stilled and looked up, eyes on fire, and breathed: "Never." Then he continued his way down to his throat, fuck, he was so fucking hot, Smoker growled in frustration that he still wore a shirt, he ripped it open, tore it in shreds, chest on chest, finally, they both gasped from the sensation.
Smoker sucked on his nipples, bit down on them, ahh, fuck, more-
And then Smoker released his hands, he was free to do what he wanted, he buried them in Smoker's thick grey hair, roamed over his muscular back, writhed his body beneath him, shuddered, fuck, Smoker, what are you doing to me? How can you make me come undone only with some touches?
And then he was on top of Smoker, straddling him, roaming his hands over his chest, in his hair, touch me, feel me, love me, he bent down and reconnected their mouths, and shit, his mouth wasn't made for eating or talking, it was made to fit onto Smoker's.
Smoker bucked his hips beneath him and he rolled his hips in return, they moaned, the friction, the need, the desperation to feel the other as deep as possible.
Smoker's hands grabbed his hips, they were buried painfully in his side, but shit, he was doing the same, clutching Smoker like he was about to vanish, but he wasn't, he was there, solid, hot, hard, beneath him, suddenly he wasn't on top anymore, Smoker was back above him, tearing at his pants, shit, why did he wore tight jeans, fuck, ahh, finally they were coming off, his cock was free, air, cold air in his lungs; Smoker struggled to take his pants of while he gave Ace's cock a long lick, fuck-
Finally they were both naked, no more foreplay needed, he needed Smoker inside of him, now.
Smoker hastily searched for something in his nightstand, oh, lube, fuck lube, just take me already, Smoker squeezed some lube on his magnificent erection and pushed him back on the bed, beneath him, they clashed their mouths together, Smoker spread his legs and placed them on his shoulders, and without any further preparation just slammed inside.
Oh fuck.
It was tight, it hurt, it burned, they were both sweating, panting, moaning. Smoker bit down on his shoulder and his body went still above him. He knew what was coming and he mentally braced himself for what was about to come.
A shudder seemed to rock Smoker and he slowly withdrew.
Then he slammed back inside, Ace ached his back, oh fuck, Smoker-
It was all frenzy, fuck, Smoker was so large inside him, filling him to the brim, more, Smoker, fuck, their bodies writhed together, bucking, and he received everything Smoker gave him, every forceful thrust, they were so desperate for more, desperate for the other-
More thrusts, Smoker's hands in his hair, their sweat slicked bodies, the noises both made, this wasn't slow and sweet fucking, no, this was a desperate fuck, they both needed to show the other that there was no completion without the other, that they belonged to each other. It was a marking.
Mine. You are mine.
Ace grabbed Smoker's neck, tried to hold onto something while his body ached and shivered, fuck, all the heat, the fire in his groin, fuck, Smoker, he could only stare with wide eyes up to Smoker, his face showed strain, his teeth were bare, ahh, fuck, that thrust had hit his prostate right on the spot, oh shit, he cried out, the feeling, the glow in Smoker's eyes, how beautiful his face was-
"FUCK!"
Smoker chuckled above him, that bastard knew that he was hitting his prostate dead on, shit, more, Smoker, more – and that was exactly what he got, Smoker put the weight of his upper body on his arms and picked up the pace, ohh, fuck, the friction, fuck, fuck, fuck-
He was so deep, deep inside him, shit, his prostate, his cock was about to burst, he already felt his muscles twitch, Smoker, fuck, he couldn't hold on any longer, the pressure, the heat-
His insides tightened, heat, fire, FUCK! His orgasm his him hard, shit, more than he could take, Smoker, have mercy-
.
He must've blacked out for a second, and when he came back to his senses he realized that Smoker was still above him, pumping his huge cock in and out of him, his face so wonderful strained, he took him with all his force, but he felt that he was close, too.
"Ace, Ace, Ace-" Smoker breathed above him, shuddering, clutching his shoulder with one arm and yanking his body up, their chests crashing together, Smoker bit down on his lower lip, and then he shuddered one final time, releasing himself inside Ace.
They both fell down on the mattress again, their bodies still entangled.
Ace panted heavily.
Shit.
They never fucked this intense before.
He slowly turned his head and watched Smoker with heavy lidded eyes, who was licking the blood from his lips. When Smoker looked up he smiled. A slow, satisfied, completely content smile. Ace couldn't help it, he smiled back.
He had Smoker back. They were together, skin on skin, calming down, enjoying the exhausted afterglow.
"Fuck, Ace, shit-" Smoker's concerned voice tore him from his lazy musings. He stared at Smoker, worried that he might found another reason to kick him out again – but Smoker was only fussing over his freshly stitched arm, since the bandages were soaked with blood.
Shit, their sex must've been a bit too much for his injury. He shrugged.
Smoker was already up and in the living room, rummaging around. He came back seconds later with fresh gauze in his hands.
Ace yawned.
Smoker sat down next to his relaxed body and took his arm in his lap and carefully unwrapped the bandages. He yawned again. He trusted Smoker with his wound, he would take care of it. Damn, he was just way too tired.
He looked up at Smoker one last time, admired his serious face in the soft glow of the coming morning that crept through the thin curtains, smiled softly, and fell asleep.
TBC