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The bar top was cold underneath Rayleigh’s reddening cheek. It served it’s purpose, keeping him tethered to the realm of the living, cradling his aging, plastered body. Though it was as stiff as last time, and sure to leave him aching. Staring at the few lone cubes of ice that were slowly dissolving into his already watered down glass of whiskey — Shakky thought she was being sly when she slid his final rocks across the bar, but after years of knowing the woman, and years of drinking whiskey like it was water, Rayleigh could tell where he was needed, and when he was dismissed — he realized that he’d drank himself into the New Year.
The days had blurred, just as they always did. Rayleigh would be lying, though, if he said he wasn’t drinking with purpose. It was just him this time around the new year’s cliff. The Rip-Off Bar was ghostly vacant. Nowadays, it seemed that most of it’s patrons finally learned their lesson to stay away. Rayleigh knew that this changed with the seasons, however. It was temporary, as when new pirates, ones with hopeful glints and boats stocked full of eager crew mates docked into Sabaody, they’d wander into Shakky’s bar all the same. They’d get their beating, too.
Shakky retreated to her bedroom above the bar before the clock had even hit twelve. It was unlike her, though Rayleigh assumed her age might’ve been catching up with her, no matter how much she’d deny it, and no matter how young she really looked. The years had been exceedingly kind to her. Rayleigh was unsure that the same could be said for him. It was easy for Rayleigh to assume that she was worn out and bleary eyed from himself, too.
Outside of the bar, although closer to the more populated groves, parties raged on, the night’s festivities reaching their high for the night. He could hear the cheering, the fireworks, and the singing. A part of it stung, knowing he wasn’t included. Albeit that was of no fault but his own, he’d chosen to stay behind. The gambling den would surely be thriving by this time of night. Shakky probably would’ve tossed him out for good, had he ventured there.
The sounds of Sabaody’s liveliness, which was once just background noise, was beginning to border on holiday excusable nuisance. He couldn’t find it in himself to be mad about it, or even all that nettled. But it chafed him, as memories began to seep through the cracks.
Every time his eyes shut, even in the quickest of blinks, when the alcohol wasn’t rendering him insipid, dragging his eyelids down, threatening him with fitful sleep, he saw him.
Roger. His captain.
It was hard not to.
The chiming of the front door’s bell didn’t phase him. The footsteps inching closer, did. He didn’t have to raise his head to tell much about the intruder. They wore boots, heavy ones, at that. Tall, but nothing extreme. No chance it was a Marine.
He clenched his eyes shut, allowing the image of Roger to fill his minds eye one last time, before deciding he needed to get up. Shakky was asleep upstairs, and he was in no position to be serving anyone. She must’ve forgotten to hang the ‘CLOSED’ sign on the door. He’d chase them off, close the bar himself, and hope he could make it to the leather booths before passing out.
All of the strength he’d found to hoist himself up, and turn to face the unwanted guest dissipated when he saw Roger’s face staring back at him. His breath caught in his throat. His vision blurred. He wondered if his glasses had slipped from his face.
But when he looked again, it was Roger’s eyebrows that furrowed in confusion. Even in the darkness that seemed to consume the bar, the fireworks and low bar light only emitting low amounts, Rayleigh could tell that it was Roger’s lips that twitched and stirred. His nose, too.
His ears rang when the man’s voice reached him.
Rayleigh struggled to swallow the feeling it left with him. He could feel the beginning of tears starting to form. He would not release them, no, but the sting was still there. He had let himself go, surely. The lines began to blur.
This was not Roger… But it could be? Rayleigh was far, far, too drunk. His mind must’ve been playing cruel tricks on him. If he were to look away, would this ‘Roger’ disappear? How long did he have?
The man’s voice echoed throughout the empty bar once more. The voice was so familiar, yet so far. It had the same cadence, and a disturbingly familiar accent. The vowels were stretched the same way, the speed at which he spoke was the same. Rayleigh could hear the inklings of something more underneath the man’s voice, just as he could with Roger.
Before Rayleigh could stop himself, his inhibition long gone, his dear, late captain’s name slipped from his lips, “Roger?”
It was barely audible, a decibel above a whisper.
Although it seemed the man had heard him nonetheless. He watched as the man… ‘Roger’… flinched. Taking a cautious step backwards, his eyebrows knitted together, and his lips curled into a snarl. He shouted — something fiery, no doubt, though it went completely unheard.
The world around him spun. He could barely tell up from down, left from right. What was ten feet ahead of him, versus what was only inches away. All he knew was: Roger, Roger, Roger. It drummed in his mind, pulsated in his veins. He was scared to take another step. To move at all.
He was here. He was actually here.
Visible. Tangible. Touchable.
All of the pictures he’d taken — accompanied by the memories of those he wished he had — did not compare. Rayleigh took a courageous step forward, countering ‘Roger’s’ hasty step back. In an instant, it felt like Rayleigh was transported forty years back. Rayleigh and Roger, just the two of them against the world. There were no responsibilities, nothing to worry about other than the occasional Marine, which was commonly Garp, so nothing to worry about at all, really.
They were free. Truly, and happily, free. It had been a long time since Rayleigh had felt that. But looking ahead of him, at Roger — who looked years younger, when the two of them were still getting to know one another. The clumsy hand holding, the nervous, sometimes coy hidden looks. Before Rayleigh was sure.
Now, more than ever, was Rayleigh sure.
Yet here, the man’s words hit his ears harshly, “What did you just call me?”
Rayleigh had to push down a laugh that threatened to escape his throat. He brought a hand to his head, and rubbed a circle into his temple. He shook his head. He couldn’t think too hard about it. His head hurt, the alcohol buzzed underneath his skin. It fuzzed the edges, made everything a little softer. It made the man in front of him a little taller, a little broader, a little sweeter.
“Whatever it is that’s so funny… cut it out, old man.”
“I ain’t that old. You’re one to talk,” came Rayleigh’s reply. “Though… you ain’t as old as I remember.”
‘Roger’ took a deep breath in. “You’ve lost it…”
“Maybe,” Rayleigh shrugged. “Thought we agreed to lose it together.”
“Look…” he trailed, “you’ve got the wrong guy.” His response was stunted, awkward and gritted out. “I just need some help. I thought this was the only place that wasn’t crawling with drunkards, but I see I’m mistaken.”
Rayleigh threw up a pacifying hand. “Now I ain’t no drunk, either.”
‘Roger’ gave him a curious look. “Yeah… sure.”
“What’s a little drink on your birthday? That’s how we always did it, after all.” It was then, that a blush creeped onto Rayleigh’s cheeks, and the crimson red couldn’t be blamed on his drinks. He tried not to get caught in the memories. Not when he should be focusing ahead.
“What…?”
“Don’t tell me you don’t remember? You’re pulling my leg.”
“How did you know it was my birthday?” ‘Roger’ demanded.
Rayleigh allowed the laugh fall from this lips. “How could I forget?”
“You’re not making any sense…”
‘Roger’ gave him another curious look. Perhaps he was too gallant to step away, or simply find someone else to pester. Rayleigh found himself thankful for that. Roger was always moving too quickly. From one place to the next, island to the other. It was a pleasant change. Even if a deeper part of him knew this was a fleeting reunion.
“My name is Ace.”
Ace…? An odd request.
Rayleigh’s eyebrow raised. “Like your sword? Or the playing card?”
Ace opened his mouth to respond, but Rayleigh beat him to it, “Doesn’t matter, I suppose. Whatever you want to be. Whoever. Anything.”
Mumbling, Ace responded. It sounded lackluster, puzzled. Maybe Rayleigh’s words were drunkenly jumbling together, maybe they were getting stuck in this throat. No matter, as Rayleigh didn’t catch what was said, nor did he try to comprehend it. He didn’t see any reason to.
Stumbling across the bar, trying to focus one foot in front of the other, all to reach Ace, he had to fight the urge to not crumble to the floor when he closed in.
He smelt of soot, slightly of leather, and a little of blackened wood. It was the second thing he noticed.
Unsteady on his feet, he braced himself on Ace’s shoulders. Ace grabbed him back, trying to keep Rayleigh foot-sure. The man spoke again, but it was lost on him. He wanted to tell him to be quiet, and to sit in the moment with him. How could he even think of doing anything else? It was baffling.
But it was hard for Rayleigh to focus on much other than the warmth that radiated from his hands. He needed to get closer. He wanted to know — remember, feel — what it felt like to be held tighter by those arms. Snaking his arms around him, he pulled himself in tighter. Snuggling into the crook of his neck, his nose brushing into Ace’s curls, he breathed in. Ace tensed under his grasp, but Rayleigh wouldn’t let him go. Not this time.
Next to his ear, Rayleigh could hear Ace’s faltering breaths. With Ace’s bare chest pressed against his own, albeit clothed, he could feel his heartbeat thumping, increasing in speed with every moment they spent together. The man didn’t embrace him back, at least not to the extent he was being held.
“It’s been so long…” Rayleigh squeezed tighter, as if he would fade into smoke if he were to let go. He refused to let the moment pass by them.
“Delusional old man…”
Rayleigh caught that.
He couldn’t lie; a part of it stung. It was a maturing wound. A reminder, every time he saw his timeworn reflection at the bottom of his glass. The other part, made him chuckle. Roger would say that, wouldn’t he?
A withheld tear trailed down his face. Happiness and sorrow filled his heart to the brim. He shifted his head to an angle, resting his cheek onto Ace’s shoulder, willing his tears to dry before the taller man noticed his grief. He wasn’t sure if it worked, as his figure was shaking, chest threatening to heave. Every intake of breath was ragged, frayed with heartache at the ends and ready to tip the scale.
The tear dripped onto Ace’s shoulder. Rayleigh watched as it evaporated mere seconds after coming into contact with Ace’s unusually warm skin. Unthinkingly, he pressed a hard, long kiss to the spot it fell. His lips pressed against the fervent skin with the long forgotten whims of desire.
After the first kiss, Rayleigh found that he couldn’t stop himself. The next kiss was sloppy. It was wet, and Rayleigh learned how Ace’s body tasted of embers and smoke. It reignited the fervor in Rayleigh’s chest.
He must have just come from a bonfire, Rayleigh thought, as he pressed another wet kiss. This one trailed up to Ace’s neck, and he found himself lapping at the vast expanse of freckles. Rayleigh did not remember those, but it was near impossible to retain everything about Roger, no matter how hard he tried. He would cherish this forever. He wouldn’t forget anymore.
Ace pushed at his shoulders slightly. There wasn’t much force behind it, and Rayleigh knew that Roger could do more damage if he intended to. Rayleigh pushed back, and the two of them fumbled backwards, until Ace’s back was pressed against one of the bar’s walls. Once Ace was surely pushed against it, Rayleigh weaved a leg in between Ace’s. His hands swept from Ace’s back to the back of Ace’s neck, cradling his head.
Ace’s voice reached his ears, irresolute and shaking, “W— Wait.”
Pivoting Ace’s head upwards, allowing him access to his throat, Rayleigh pressed a kiss to his Adam’s apple. “Wait?” He pressed another underneath his jaw, “Why?”
His knee pressed against the wall, and when he nipped at Ace’s skin once more, the younger man’s legs wobbled. Rayleigh took it as his chance to press further in, hiking his knee up until it met Ace’s shorts. Underneath the fabric, Rayleigh could feel him hardening. Waves of pleasure radiated through his body with the knowledge of what he was doing to Ace.
Whatever response Ace had was muffled by Rayleigh slotting their mouths together. He tilted in, felt the slight snarl of Ace’s lips against his. His sharp nose pressed into Ace’s cheek. He sucked on Ace’s bottom lip, trying to soak in everything the man had to offer. His lips tasted fiery, with the slightest hints of sea salt. Rayleigh didn’t waste any time pulling away for breath, instead deciding to swipe his tongue across Ace’s lips in hopes of an open opportunity. Ace didn’t falter, however, so Rayleigh bit his bottom lip.
It elicited a half moan, half gasp from Ace, who’s eyebrows furrowed, but eyes fluttered shut. Rayleigh assumed it was accidental, but the moan that fell from Ace’s lips was intoxicating. It was raspy and hushed. Taking the chance, Rayleigh swooped in, and slid his tongue into the opening. The taste of Ace began to overflow his senses, until he was sure that the two of them were mixing into one. He started to taste his whiskey on Ace’s tongue, and it brewed something stormy in his abdomen.
The tension between them seemed to burst, then. The coiled thing it was, unraveled. It exposed the grittier parts of Rayleigh, the fractured pieces of him that he’d long abandoned.
His hand abandoned it’s post at Ace’s neck, instead trailing down his chest. He was significantly less hairy than he remembered, but Rayleigh chose to pay it no mind. He cupped Ace’s chest with one hand, caressing his bust. His hand found it’s way to his nipple soon enough, and he fiddled with the hardening peak. He twisted it between his pointer and thumb, swirling it, even pulling on them. Rayleigh reveled in the feeling of Ace’s muscles rippling underneath his fingertips.
The noises Ace began to make were sweet-sounding, and only egged Rayleigh on further. Every time he pinched his nipple, and pressed a hard kiss to him — whether it be on the corner of his mouth, or quickly trailing up his jaw — Ace would moan, and wriggle in Rayleigh’s tight grasp. Rayleigh followed the arc of Ace’s body, as he tried to curl away from his touch. To fill the gaps of skin that weren’t touching.
Grabbing his waist, Rayleigh drove his pelvis into Ace’s thigh, desperately seeking friction. His cock throbbed against the constraints of his clothing. Ace began to sport a tent not too long after, and Rayleigh decided he couldn’t wait to get his hands on the beautiful boy in front of him.
Rayleigh’s hand traced the waistband to Ace’s shorts. His knuckles brushed against the deep V-line that Ace sported, ghosting over the trailing path of curls that ran down his abdomen. Hooking a finger into the waistline, he pulled. When his forefinger curved into his shorts and departed from Ace’s skin, he found that there was only one layer between. Pressing his forehead into the wall behind Ace, looking down at what his wandering hand had discovered, Rayleigh’s face flushed.
The realization hit him like bricks. The bastard wasn’t wearing any underwear. His heart began to beat even harder, rising and catching in his throat. Rayleigh had misplaced so many of Roger’s eccentricities in the time that had passed since they’d last seen the other. Lost to time, and pushed away.
Palming at the barely concealed erection in his pants, Rayleigh watched Ace watch him. He gave himself a firm squeeze, twitching with the pleasure that flowed through him with the stimulating motion. He could hear — no, feel Ace’s shaky breaths from where he saddled up next to him. Rayleigh grazed Ace’s stiff cock through the shorts with the back of his hands, teasingly. His cock was most sensitive on the underside, Rayleigh noted, as each jerk of his hand left Ace melting even more than the last.
Ace bit down on his lip, stifling a groan.
Even as the partying continued to storm on, with the close proximity between them, the noises could not drown out Ace. Rayleigh could hear the sounds that erupted from his own throat too, wanton and needy as he palmed at Ace. He smirked.
“You know, you don’t have to be quiet. With all that ruckus outside, no one can hear you, ‘cept for me, of course.” With those words, Rayleigh shimmied Ace’s shorts down his muscled thighs.
Although he was still reeling, Rayleigh couldn’t help but notice the way Ace’s hair thickened the further down he explored. As he pulled further, the base of Ace’s cock peeked out. He was thick, Rayleigh noted, as it bobbed out from beneath the cloth with one fell swoop. The tip was red and glistening with pre-cum, seeking relief.
Rayleigh’s mouth began to water at the sight.
“This isn’t—” Ace tried, but was swiftly cut off by a sudden moan when Rayleigh reached down to hold Ace’s cock in his hand. It was heavy in his grip, he noted, as he wrapped his hand around the girth. Rayleigh gave it a few slow, drawn-out strokes, just to watch how Ace would respond. His grasp wasn’t loose, but just tight enough to encourage friction.
“Ah...” Ace moaned again. He jolted forward, his hips canting. Rayleigh studied Ace’s features. Even in the dim light, Rayleigh could see how every stroke caused his eyebrows to weave upwards, his mouth to fall open, almost in a pout. His eyes screwed shut with want.
Rayleigh thought he looked radiant. With his skin so heated, his moans so sweet… Rayleigh wanted to mark his freckled skin, leave him with pretty, ripening bruises that trailed from his neck to his thighs. His stomach fluttered at the thought.
“Look at you…”
Ace trembled, speechless. The fierce blush that painted his sun kissed skin blossomed into an even deeper red. Rayleigh gave Ace a few experimental fast strokes. When Ace almost doubled over, jerking and grabbing onto Rayleigh’s shirt to stay stable, he warmly chuckled. “We’ll sort you out.”
Caressing his cheek, then taking his chin between his pointer and thumb, Rayleigh traced over Ace’s lips. They were bitten red. Swollen, wet, and ready for more. He grabbed Ace’s face, squeezing gently, and guided him downwards. Ace sunk to the floor, his hands trailing on Rayleigh’s arms, his knees hitting the wooden floors with a loud thunk.
He hovered in front of the hardening arousal in Rayleigh’s pants. Pushing his thumb onto Ace’s pouted lips, he pressed further in, until his digit was fully enveloped by Ace’s mouth. Against his finger, Ace made a noise, but it was too muffled for Rayleigh to make out.
“Suck,” Rayleigh ordered.
Drawing the fingers into his mouth further, Ace swirled his tongue around Rayleigh’s digits. Rayleigh pushed deeper inside, until his knuckles were flush with Ace’s lips. Ace coughed coarsely, and tried to pull off, arching his head away. Rayleigh took slight pity on the boy. When he pulled his fingers back, a trail of saliva followed, which hung heavily between them.
Placing a steadying hand on the top of Ace’s head, Rayleigh canted his hips slightly, while nudging him forward simultaneously. Trapped between the two forces; Rayleigh’s hand, and his body — Ace exhaled titillatingly. His breath hot against Rayleigh’s front. Shifting closer, Ace made to mouth over the erection. He left trailing kisses on the fabric, across his clothed cock.
The pressure coiling inside of him was intense, begging for release, sending jolts of electricity to his cock. Rayleigh felt like exploding. He moved Ace’s head back, and began to unbutton his pants with his free hand. He made quick work of it, dropping them to his ankles and sprang his stiff cock out from his briefs. His cock was longer than it was thick, though nonetheless intimidating. It curved upward, glistening with pre-cum.
Rayleigh tugged at his aching length in earnest, letting his tip fall against Ace’s cheek. It left dews of pre-cum in it’s wake. He thumbed at Ace’s mouth, prying his lips open. Ace caught on quickly, which left Rayleigh with a swell of pride in his chest. Grinning, he tapped Ace’s chin, motioning for him to open his jaw wider, just enough for Rayleigh to slip the tip in.
A low groan escaped his lips as Ace encompassed his head completely. Ace’s mouth was blissfully hot — almost too hot, which only added to his arousal. His tongue lapped at the underside of Rayleigh’s tip, swirling gentle circles. He braced himself on the wall behind Ace, with his other hand finding residence tangled in Ace’s dark curls. Exploring further, Ace’s tongue teased his slit, the salty taste filling his mouth with every swipe.
He suckled, impressed kitten licks and chaste kisses onto him until the hold on his hair tightened. He pressed them to his tip, down his length, into the nestle of curls at the root of his pleasure, and all the way back up. Every kiss lit some part of him on fire. His lips were wet, some of his kisses were sloppy, leaving drool behind. Ace grabbed the base of Rayleigh’s cock with his fist, pumping with haste.
“Shit,” Rayleigh gritted. The knots within him were beginning to untie. When Ace began to suckle once more, Rayleigh took the initiative, unexpectedly plunging his cock fully into Ace’s mouth. He drove Ace’s head forward, his hand cradling his nape, as he thrust to meet him. His nose brushed at the base, and Rayleigh felt Ace’s throat close around him alongside the choke. He gagged, gasping for air through his restricted airway.
When Rayleigh looked down at the messy boy on his knees, he saw how red his face had become, how intense his skin flushed and how hot it burned. He could see the formation of tears glinting in his eyes. He held steadfast for a few moments more, before abruptly pulling away. They separated with a pop, and Ace coughed as Rayleigh’s cock loomed over him. Drool ran down his chin, dropped from his lips, and whatever of the mixture Ace didn’t slurp back, Rayleigh wiped away with his thumb. Sneaking a glimpse, he saw Ace’s neglected cock jerk.
Swallowing thickly, he looked up at Rayleigh. If he wanted to say anything, he kept it to himself.
Instead, he drifted back to Rayleigh’s swollen cock, and enveloped him again. This time, he was not as shy about bobbing his head. His cheeks hollowed, sucking with an upward stroke. Rayleigh sought to keep eye contact with him, staring into his once familiar brown eyes, but every so often, his length was too much for Ace, poking too deep, that he had to clench his eyes shut.
He watched as a few stray tears slipped down his freckled cheeks, and let the overwhelming pleasure flood him. He looked so good like this. He began to propel his hips forward slightly, and nudge Ace’s head further, until any self control he had was drowned out. Below him, he heard Ace choke, he felt his gag reflex, but it only encouraged him more. The alcohol made him lose control far easier. He chased his pleasure, even bending over to press Ace’s head harshly against his middle, caging him.
“I’ve been waiting for this…” Rayleigh groaned. “Dreamt about it for so long.”
Ace lowly hummed a response around Rayleigh’s cock, but the action only made him choke more. It was then that Rayleigh realized how much control Ace had given him. He couldn’t even speak. Something flared in Rayleigh, and as his hips jerked, his climax almost overtook him. Despite his drunken state, Rayleigh still knew his limits, so he gathered whatever self-discipline still remained, and pushed Ace’s mouth off of him.
Both of their breaths were labored, lingering heavily in the air. Rayleigh took it as a chance to cool off. Ace’s mouth radiated so much heat, that even though his mouth was no longer on his cock, his breaths still wafted warm air towards him. His cock twitched at the sensation.
His decision was made. What was he saying? His decision had been made.
He grabbed Ace by the bicep, pulling him up to his feet. Ace was rocky, his legs turned to gelatin and his knees red and sore from the old wooden floors. Rayleigh had to keep him surefooted, his handle on the wavering boy tight. He made sure to guide Ace out of the clothes circling his ankles so he wouldn’t trip, before doing the same for himself. It was a miracle that he was standing, no less keeping another person afloat. He didn’t want to risk falling over, or dropping Ace, so he quickly spun Ace around. Then, he grabbed his wrists, arresting them behind his back, before ushering the both of them to the bar’s leather couches.
Pushing him down, his chest flush to the leather, where only his shins stuck out of the booth, Rayleigh watched him squirm. His cock was trapped underneath his body, wedged between him and the couch. The friction it provided must have been blissful, as Ace hedonistically began to rock his hips into the leather.
Sucking in air, Rayleigh transferred Ace’s wrists to one hand, before ghosting his now free hand over Ace’s ass, which flexed with every jerk his body gave. Fuck. A shuddered sigh fell from his lips. Rayleigh didn’t dare to take himself into his hand. The sight was enough alone. He wanted — needed to savor this.
It didn’t mean he couldn’t touch Ace, however. Trailing a feather’s touch down Ace’s spine, he watched as Ace shivered and his skin prickled with goosebumps. He cupped Ace’s ass, kneading patterns into it. It fit in his hand perfectly.
Ace’s breathy moans began to amplify, his voice deep. It resonated deep in Rayleigh’s bones.
“That’s it,” Rayleigh cooed. “Make yourself feel good, it’s alright.”
“Ngh— I need—” Ace whined, his hips stuttering. Some of his words were muffled into the couch’s cushion, but the sentiment was conveyed all the same. Rayleigh gave him an all-knowing smile from behind him. Threading his fingers into Ace’s hair, he pulls back, arching his head towards the ceiling. He snakes his hand around, and has Ace suck on his fingers once more. Once they’re wet enough, he lets Ace’s face fall back into the cushion.
Pushing his ass cheek to the side with one hand, Rayleigh lined his fingers up with Ace’s hole. The view Rayleigh had of Ace was more intoxicating than any of the alcohol he’d had that night. He teasingly traced a finger over his hole, before winding his hand back and imparting Ace with a harsh smack on his ass. Ace moaned, his hips faltering, before regaining their quick pace.
“That…” Ace struggled, his words half-moan, half-scorn, “that hurt.”
“I know,” Rayleigh chuckled, his lip caught underneath his teeth. He soothed his hand over the mark he’d left. It was in the shape of his palm, but on his ring finger, where he wore his wedding band, a few specks of blood bubbled to the surface. He waited a few moments, before repeating the motion, this time on the other cheek. “That’s why I did it.”
Ace cried out. His shoulders shook.
Alright, alright, Rayleigh thought. He’s had enough teasing. He’s desperate enough.
Slowly, Rayleigh pushed his index finger against his hole. Nudging further, he broke past the friction, entering Ace up to the first knuckle. “There you go,” Rayleigh placated.
Twisting inside, Rayleigh was watching for Ace’s reaction. He squirmed underneath him, but he kept his wrists bound. He sunk further in, but the drag of his fingers was coyishly slow. “Good?”
Ace’s moans were raspy. Worn and almost inaudible from use.
So be it, then.
Rayleigh pumped his finger a few times, before he added another finger. The stretch was steady, though Rayleigh’s fingers were long. Ace’s chest rose and fell, his breath catching every time Rayleigh moved. Scissoring his fingers, he worked the tension out of Ace. Soon enough, there was room for three. He seized when Rayleigh pressed the last finger inside. He no longer needed to move his fingers, as Ace’s wild, arrhythmic jerking did the job just fine. He was fucking himself on Rayleigh’s fingers.
All this, and Rayleigh hadn’t even gotten his cock wet yet. Well — he had, literally, but he was yet to be inside of Ace. He swiftly removed his fingers, leaving Ace shuddering, and his hole clenching over what was lost. His hand shook as he tugged his cock.
He lined his cock up with Ace’s hole, and gave a few experimental thrusts, sliding between his ass. Rolling his hips into Ace’s, he broke the seal, gliding in against the friction. He let go of Ace’s wrists, though unintentionally, to grab Ace’s ass. Ace’s hands flew to the couch’s armrest near his head, his hands clawing at the leather. In the low light, Rayleigh could see the sweat glimmering on his back. It looked explosive, ignitable.
When he pulled back, his tip catching on the edge of his hole, Rayleigh moaned.
Crudely, he thrust forward again, his hips meeting Ace’s ass. He pulled him closer, trying to fill any gaps that there might’ve been. Ace moaned shakily, and threw a hand behind him, trying to steady Rayleigh. His hand came just short of his navel, his fingertips ghosting over the skin. Seeing an opportunity, Rayleigh grabbed the outstretched hand in front of him, pulling it backwards. It caused Ace to lift off of the couch, the friction on his cock missing, leaving him uselessly humping the air. He wailed at the loss.
Hauling him closer, Rayleigh brought Ace’s back flush to his chest. He had him by his reigns, like he was a horse. Smiling, Rayleigh jerked forward. Ace’s head was thrown back towards the ceiling. He was slightly taller than Ace, so he was able to look down at the writhing boy. On the couch, he saw a puddle of white, which trailed back to Ace’s cock. He had come already, and Rayleigh didn’t even notice.
Though it did nothing to dissuade him, as Rayleigh realized Ace’s cock was still hard. Roger always had too much stamina for such a low rejuvenation time. He rocked his hips faster, the sound of their skin slapping together filling the empty bar.
It was just them; nothing else existed. Roger and Rayleigh, as it was in the early days.
“Roger…!” Rayleigh moaned. The memories got to him, and his eyes stung with tears. His chest slightly caved, though Rayleigh was yet to surrender to it. Not now, not when he was busy pleasuring his long lost lover.
Ace made a pained noise and attempted to buck away from him, but the hold Rayleigh had on Ace’s bicep was too tight. Every rough drive forward shook Ace, his body jerking with the fast movements. His moans were filling the room. All Rayleigh could think of was how good he sounded, how lucky he was to be here.
Not before long, Rayleigh’s knees began to buckle. He angled Ace in such a way to ensure he wouldn’t tumble off of the couch, and propelled the both of them forward. They landed on the couch with a smack. Ace’s body was pinned underneath him.
“Fuck,” Rayleigh cursed.
He pressed a kiss to Ace’s head, before nipping at his ear. His hips jerked faster, the steady pace becoming irregular. His calves were beginning to burn.
He brushed some of Ace’s — Roger’s — hair aside, readying to kiss the birthmark on his nape. It was always covered by his hair, but Rayleigh remembered how often they’d joke about the shape.
“Born to be a pirate,” Roger would laugh, showcasing his skull shaped mark. Rayleigh would caress it, he’d press kisses with promises to it. He longed to hear that voice again. Drilling into him, he felt his orgasm on the edge. He was chasing it, allowing the white hot feeling to invade his senses.
For the first time in what felt like ages, Ace found his voice to speak. Though it was stuttered, Rayleigh could just barely make out his croaked words. “I told you — My name —” he moaned, “is Ace!”
Rayleigh groaned.
But the birthmark wasn’t there. It was vastly empty. Covered with freckles, sure, but no birthmark. It looked… wrong. It was wrong. His breath hitched in his throat. That couldn’t be. His face was too familiar. His voice. Even his stance. That same wild look was in his eyes. Rayleigh saw it all when he walked into Shakky’s bar.
Then why was he questioning it? Had his memory truly failed him?
The reminder of Shakky felt like being doused with cold water. His skin was lit aflame with goosebumps. The wedding band around his finger burned. He wasn’t twenty-two. He wasn’t with Roger, not at all. He was seventy-six, washed up in his wife’s bar.
Roger was dead. Twenty years dead. He was with Ace.
Ace.
Ace, not Roger.
Ace, like Roger’s cutlass.
His stomach flipped. Rayleigh couldn’t stop his hips from jerking forward — though he wasn’t sure he wanted them to. Tears began to flow at a steadier rate, trailing down his cheeks, dripping onto the leather next to Ace’s head. He was so warm, so tight. He shoved his body forward, thrusting harder and deeper with every stroke.
Ace’s hips moved too, as the two of them messily broke down. Rayleigh was pawing at Ace, finding somewhere — anywhere to put his hands. To cup his chest, cradle his chin, hold his shoulder, squeeze his ass. Anything.
Rayleigh couldn’t miss the way Ace’s ass clenched around his cock. He was crying out, grabbing fistfuls of the couch, he thought Ace might’ve even ripped it, moaning into the furniture. His body shook with his orgasm, his jaw slack and his eyes rolling back.
With a few more erratic, hard thrusts, Rayleigh was wrenching onto Ace as hard as he could, clutching him in his arms, putting all of his body weight on top of him. He spasmed. His cock twitched inside of Ace, his shoulders shuddered. He came with a loud cry, his orgasm hitting him harder than it ever had. His teeth grit down, catching his cheek in the crossfire. His whistling breaths were loud and panted. His thrusts began to slow, as he fucked Ace through his orgasm.
When it was done, his body was still shaking. He pulled out of Ace carefully, not wanting to overstimulate himself too much — though it seemed Ace was already there, as he jolted when Rayleigh exited. His seed poured out after him, dripping onto the couch and Ace’s thighs. The sight was perverse, but Rayleigh couldn’t deny the euphoria it brought.
His head pounded. He was far, far, too drunk for any of this. But he knew he wouldn’t have been able to handle it sober, either. Rayleigh wondered if he’d even remember it in the morning. Deep down, he knew the answer. He was still riding the high of his orgasm, but he knew that it would haunt him.
Ace, he thought.
He wasn’t sure if it was better to remember or to forget. The world around him blurred. He felt Ace get up from underneath him. He heard the door shut, the bell ringing with what Rayleigh assumed to be his departure. His eyes were drooping, weariness beginning to set in. The leather of the couch was ever so slightly still warm from where Ace had been laying. But it was winter on Sabaody, and the couch was rapidly cooling against his warm, sweaty skin.
The last thought Rayleigh had before he passed out was of Roger, and how similar he was to Ace. He wondered how things would have been, had Roger stuck around.
Regrets were for the dead, he supposed. Yet he was still pulled under.