… confessing a fetish AND pinning the other against a wall + marcoace? requested by anon
warnings/tags: praise kink, strength kink, confessions, grinding
ships marcoace
Ace grunts as they hit the wall, hands lacing around Marco's neck and tangling around his hair to keep Marco's teeth against the skin of his throat, and Marco breathes out hard.
"Fuck, you're gorgeous," Marco whispers to his skin, and heat spreads along Ace's cheeks, warmth flooding his stomach. His head thumps against the wall behind him as he tilts his head back and tries to ignore how flustered Marco's compliments make him. "How am I supposed to get any work done when you're around?"
"Figure out how to concentrate better?" Ace says, voice high with how he gasps, and Marco laughs, hand skimming up Ace's side and digging below his ribs, fingertips pressing against his back to make Ace arch forwards against him.
"I would rather concentrate on you. Concentrate on you making those beautiful noises," he says, and the admission; the honesty with which he says it makes Ace's breath hitch. His blood is roaring now, in a way that he can't ignore, and he shifts, pressing down on Marco's thigh.
"Fuck," he wheezes, grinding forwards and biting the top of Marco's ear. "You asshole."
Marco gives a surprised laugh, pulling away to stare at him. "What for this time?" he asks with a grin, and Ace takes a deep breath.
"Saying- that."
"Wanting to concentrate on you?"
"The-" he can't help but shift, nerves churning in his stomach, and the temporary high is fading as he tries to figure out how to admit the weird way his stomach twists when Marco compliments him. "I just really fuckin' like it when you do that. When you- say I look pretty. Or that I'm doing good."
Marco tilts his head and goes, "Oh." Then, he grins slowly, eyes calculating. "Oh."
Ace fidgets under his scrutiny, but doesn't have to wait long for Marco's plan;
"So if I said something like-" his hand slides down to Ace's hip, tracing the muscle of his abdomen and making Ace's stomach tighten involuntarily, "you're fucking gorgeous, and I want to get my mouth on every inch of you," - Ace's heart hammers, and he squeezes his eyes shut, barely able to stifle his moan, - "Oh." Marco repeats, and then grins like he's been given a present. "Oh you're perfect," he says, and Ace swats him in the shoulder. Marco laughs, catching his hand and pressing kisses along his palm and wrist, tangling their fingers together.
"And how much do you like it?" he asks, the scruff of his beard tickling Ace's jaw before he leans in for a kiss. With their lips still pressed together he whispers, "Could you come just from me talking?"
"Could already do that," Ace says with a cheeky snort, easily able to remember the times when Marco had called him when either of them had been out on a mission and the one time Ace had been called out for a battle with his belt undone and an obvious stain on the front of his pants.
Marco hums, lips twitching into a grin at what is likely a similar memory, and his thumb rubs circles on the outside of Ace's hand. "But could you do it with compliments?" he asks, "Could I hold you down and not touch and get you to make a gorgeous mess of yourself? Get you to make those beautiful sounds I love right before you cum all over your perfect chest?"
Shivers race up his spine, and Ace feels his mouth go dry. "I- don't- maybe-?"
Marco presses fluttering kisses against his lip, sealing what might grow into a panicked protest.
"Won't you be good for me?" Marco murmurs, and Ace whines, his head tilting back.
"Oh fuck you," he says breathlessly, and Marco grins.
"Ah, no, that's my plan, yoi."
