#1 ("Don't you look good on your knees with all that cum on your face.") on the humiliation list with mas? thank you! requested by anon
tags/warnings: bondage
ships maracebo
"Don't you look good on your knees with all that cum on your face."
So stupidly soft, that voice, but Sabo still glares in that direction because he can hear the tease, the amusement in Ace's voice, the way his lips are curling even though there's cum dripping off his eyelashes and onto his mouth.
"So angry," Marco says just as softly, his thumb wiping part of it from Sabo's eyelid gently, but there's nothing gentle with how he pushes his thumb against Sabo's mouth, against his tongue, making him choke as his mouth is forced open. The blunt nail scrapes against his tongue, the faint taste of salt dragged across his tongue and his wet lower lip, and he feels - tastes - another drop of cum that lands on his tongue. "So angry but so pretty like this, hm?"
Ace hums agreement, fingertips dragging the sticky concoction across Sabo's cheeks and down his neck, sparks flying in his wake and across Sabo's skin. His stomach goes tight again, toes curling and shoulders straining against the handcuffs around his wrists, and he can't stop the desperate whine that slips from him.
"Ooh, are you finally ready to apologise?" Ace says, and he kneels in front of Sabo, pressing them together. His skin is so warm; Sabo can't help but shiver, trying to lean closer, and Ace laughs at him, running his hand through his hair before yanking it back to bare Sabo's throat. Sabo grunts, but can't stop the gasp that follows when Ace fastens his teeth around his throat. Ace sucks hard, teeth grazing Sabo's skin and making him shake, a groan budding low in his throat, and his hips buck uselessly against Ace's thigh.
Ace leans away as soon as he does, his leg shifting against Sabo's hard cock and giving just a second of touch that drives him further into a state, hands clenched into fists behind his back. "Not," he breathes out, no matter how much that word costs him, no matter that his shoulders are heaving, and pride curls in his stomach when Ace laughs at his defiance.
"It's so cute how you think you have a choice," Marco says mockingly, and Sabo sets his jaw.
"I get-" he starts, then has to heave in an unsteady breath at the breadth of Ace's warm palms on his side, "get an hour. If you can't make me cry, I don't have to apologise for anything."
"Oh you're on," Ace says in delight, and Marco's hard kiss gives away his grin.
