"You look good getting fucked... now smile for the camera" with sabo fucking ace and marco taking pictures?(also maybe praise kink? requested by anon
warnings/tags: praise kink, overstimulation, gags, bondage, exhibitionism, self-confidence issues,
ships: maracebo
Marco just stares, at first. Ace's skin prickles under the scrutiny, under the knowledge that Marco's camera rests in his lap, easily grabbed and memory card emptied for tonight, but honestly, mainly, he can barely even think about it because Sabo's been working him open for an hour now and Ace can't stop writhing on his lap, about three seconds away from begging Sabo to hurry up and fuck him already.
A particularly rough twitch of Sabo's fingers has him keening, biting down hard on the gag in his mouth, and he latches on to Sabo's shoulders, hands sliding up his neck to frame his face. He tries to glare, but Sabo's only grinning, and then suddenly he hears the camera snap and his face burns. The sound that escapes him is some mangled twist of Marco's name, muffled by the gag, and he digs his hands in to Sabo's shoulders so he doesn't try and pull it off, wanting to kiss and bite and return Sabo's 'favour', suck him off till he was trying to escape any pressure at the same time as he tried to fuck into Ace's mouth.
"Don't you two look beautiful?" Marco says, looking at his camera and then back up at them, grinning as he turns the screen around to proudly show Sabo. Ace's head tilts back and a frustrated noise escapes him, but he doesn't realise he has Sabo's attention until Sabo slides into him hard and fast and Ace finds himself choking at the sudden swell of pressure.
"Debauched," Sabo says, grinning at Ace's half-lidded surprise, and then he rocks forwards and makes Ace fall again, the asshole, except really Ace can't complain because fucking finally, and besides all that all he can think about is sweat and heat and the steady rock of Sabo's hips and his cock pressed between them, so close-
"Ah, Sabo, wait a sec?" Marco asks, and Ace can feel Sabo's hands tighten on his back in a warning not to move before he stops just as Marco asks. Sabo's muscles quiver with the strain, thumbs pressed into Ace's stomach, and Ace tries to rock down, rock forwards, do fucking anything, but Sabo's grip is far too tight and he can only whine. He was finally so close, and Marco calling for a stop makes him wish he could scream.
Marco's thumb runs down his aching cock, stroking with all the grace and patience of an artist organising a model, and Ace's chest hitches so hard that he's sure his heart has stopped beating. His eyes flicker closed just as Marco raises his camera to his eye and says, "Perfect."
The click is so sharp in his ear that Ace is surprised he can even hear himself breathe, aborted half movements all he can manage against Sabo's grip on his hips, and Marco's hand gently runs through his sweaty hair. "You look so good getting fucked," he says, nail tracing a line from Ace's forehead and across his scalp, and Ace shudders, whining. Please, he wishes he could say, or maybe fucking do it then, but he can only bite down hard on the ball gag in his mouth, pressing against Marco's palm as his face furrows into a frown of concentration.
He opens his eyes to glare, to challenge, to taunt, daring Marco to make Sabo move again just so he can fucking get off, but Marco only laughs, grinning. "Our little spitfire's so angry with us," he teases, and Sabo presses his own smile against Ace's throat, missing how Marco raises his camera to get a picture of his clear adoration.
Marco's fingers stroke beneath his chin and Ace almost chokes on his own spit when Marco tilts up his head. "So beautiful," he says, so soft and reverent that Ace almost chokes again, squeezing his eyes shut. Marco runs his thumb below Ace's eye, along his cheekbone. "And you can't complain about me talking about how perfect you are this time, gorgeous."
"He is, isn't he?" Sabo says, his hands framing Ace's sides, and finally finally he rocks up again, but so slow and easy that Ace can't even distract himself from the reverent kisses they lay against his skin. "Gorgeous," Sabo says again, lips against his throat, and Ace's breath hitches far to hard at the word, a whimper escaping him; then, he's coming, his thighs shaking and his eyes squeezed shut.
But he can't stop his stupid breath from hitching, and the gag's too tight for him to breathe properly and-
Marco slips in from his mouth and presses his thumb to the side of Ace's lip, drawing tiny circles against his skin, and his camera is forgotten as he asks worriedly, "Ace?"
He shakes his head, breath thrumming in his throat in a way that he knows is just hate, nothing else, no stress or panic but he still can't get it to fucking stop, and Sabo shifts him till he's cradled in Sabo's lap, Sabo's hand gently stroking his hair. "Ace, are you okay? I'm sorry. Did we push too far?"
Ace's breath hitches, his knees curling up tight and heels against Sabo's thighs, "I-" he tries to say, but the words get stuck. He presses his hand over his nose, trying to stop the tears from coming. "Yes?" he says, and then rubs his hand into the tight frown lines on his forehead. "No? I- I don't-!"
"Hey, hey," Marco says, soothingly, coaxing Ace's hands away from his face before he hurts himself, and then he sways Ace carefully, a low hum in his chest that Ace latches on too, trying to stifle his sniffles. "You're okay, Ace, you did perfectly."
"I'm not-" he says, and Sabo presses kisses to his cheeks.
"We said that you did perfectly. That's okay, right? You can do lots of things really well, and you did everything we asked of you so perfect. So pretty."
His breath hitches again at the words but he manages to nod shakily, head clutched in his hands. Marco rests his chin on Ace's head. "It's okay, yoi. You're doing fine, Ace. Just breathe for us."
"S-sorry," he manages to get out through his stupid hitching breath, wishing he were better at this, wishing he were fucking normal, wishing that he were anyone but himself, but Marco and Sabo swallow his apology and spit back out kindness enough to make his heart ache. They work him down from his panic, patient and calm, and in their arms he feels his eyes flutter closed.
"We weren't-" he mumbles as he feels himself start to drift off, "-done."
"Why not?" Marco says, and Ace can barely feel him shrug, "I have the most captivating photos, and you got off. I dunno what else we need."
"Sab-?"
Sabo shrugs, burying his face in Ace's hair. "Bored now. Wanna sleep."
"See?" Marco says, and Ace doesn't bother fighting anymore, feeling sleep claim him. "We're all good. You're all good."
"You're perfect."
