Archive of Our Own

Nanohana, with all it’s perfume, must have him in a daze.

It’s a rush, battling this man. A challenge. He can use all of his fire without limit, and it still doesn’t destroy, doesn’t burn or sear. And he lets himself, becomes fire completely, only is met with white smoke cutting through the flames. The streams try to contain him, but it only gets him higher.

And higher. Soon he forgets the town below them, nearly forgets about Luffy and his crew and everything except for the roar of flame and smoke together. He’s never known anything like this before, and it almost takes him. Until an eye materializes and spies cloudless blue skies.

Ace admits he plays a little dirty—but then didn’t the marine too, carrying a seastone-tipped weapon around? When they finally reconcile, it’s not by the marine’s choice. Ace has stolen the jitte the man carries on his back, tip pressed against his shoulder. The marine is slumped against a crumbling wall, and despite the threat, is face still has what seems like a permanent scowl. Ace bears his teeth.

“Leave Luffy alone,” he says.

He slams the tip of the jitte into the ground next to the marine’s hip, leaving it stuck there. Then he flickers away, down the alley, and doesn’t look back.

-

“Luffy, who was that marine chasing you? There’s no base here.”

Luffy is hanging upside down off the upper deck railing, legs stretched, watching Usopp tinker with something. He drops down into an easy handstand and bends his neck to look at Ace.

“Oh, Smokey? He’s from Loguetown. Dunno why he followed me...” he lowers himself down to sit cross-legged. “He’s strong, but I’ll beat him next time.”

There had better not be a next time. “Smokey?” Really?

“Smoker is the captain of the base in Loguetown. Or, was, I suppose,” says Nami from her deck chair, looking concerned. “Luffy’s right, he’s strong...and ruthless. We’d better watch out if he’s followed us all this way.”

“A little outside his jurisdiction,” Ace points out. Nami nods.

So, a crazed bastard. Probably obsessed with catching Luffy after he slipped away from Loguetown, and couldn’t take a hit to his manhood. Internally, Ace rolls his eyes about it. It was just like Luffy to attract this kind of trouble, though.

“Hey, Ace, why’d you wanna know?” Luffy asks suddenly.

“I want to send him a sympathy card. ‘I’m very sorry for your loss.’”

Luffy laughs, the sound like peels of a ringing bell, or trumpet flourishes. Ace smiles and scruffs a hand through Luffy’s hair. His brother really hadn’t changed.

Well, as bizarre as the fight had been, it was over now. That’s the last he’ll see of the marine, and if the man got the message, it’s the last Luffy will see of him too.

-

Ace arrives at Jondo too late—Teach is already gone, again. He does the best he can to gather information. There’s not much. Apparently Teach didn’t make too much of a scene on this island.

“Your log pose will take two days to set,” the innkeeper tells him at the front desk. “If you’re looking for something to occupy your time, we have plenty of brochures along the wall there...”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Ace says before going up to his room.

He sleeps hard and has strange, vague dreams of the silhouette of a man in a haze. He decides he doesn’t like Jondo—he has an itchy feeling he doesn’t like either, but he can’t tell where it comes from or why it’s there, only that he’s anxious. Maybe it’s the smell—it reminds him of Goa. He can’t wait to leave.

Two slow days pass. He watches the needle of his log pose tilt. Finally. He rushes to the docks. When he approaches his skiff, a voice calls out.

“Portgas D. Ace, you’re under arrest.”

Ace freezes. Damn it, he’s in a hurry. He turns and smiles, all teeth.

It’s that damn marine again. He’s standing, arms crossed with his jitte on his back, that scowl standing out on his face.

“Well,” Ace says. “Fancy seeing you again.”

“Drop the bag and get on your knees with your hands in the air.”

“Sorry, marine. You know I can’t do that.”

“Thought so.”

Ace glances around. He doesn’t have any men with him. And damn it, Ace must’ve been too excited to leave to notice he was being tailed.

“Y’know, I’m surprised you haven’t been shipped back to Loguetown or worse,” Ace says. “Considering how far you are outside of your jurisdiction, Captain.” It puts a sour look on the marine’s face. Good.

“Outside of my jurisdiction or not, I still have authority to arrest you here. So come quietly.”

“I told you, I can’t do that.” The man is already starting to dissolve into smoke. A strange thrill runs down Ace’s spine when he tastes it. “This is a nice place,” he lies, igniting his arms. “You really wanna do this here?”

“Shut up. I’ll take you down now.”

All at once, a cloud descends on him. In, around, between—smoke encompasses him. It feels like before, a hot thrill, and Ace smiles.

It’s an implosion there in the harbor, a ball of fire and smoke, and again it’s like nothing Ace has ever felt before, a raw and unlimited use of his power. It’s a wild, heady thing. In the part of him that’s still human, he wonders if the marine feels the same thing.

It ends quickly, in another stalemate. This time it’s Ace on the ground, pinned down by Smoker’s hand, the other with a hand on the handle of the jitte, ready to strike.

Ace’s hands snake up. He pushes Smoker until he’s on his back and Ace is on top, sitting on top of his hips. Ace’s palms light up where they’re planted on Smoker’s shoulders, but his fire is just met with smoke, wrapping around and through.

“Won’t work,” Smoker says, voice rough with exhaustion. Ace is heaving in air too. “It’ll never work.”

“I should’ve killed you in Alabasta.” Ace grits his teeth. The fun is over. He doesn’t have any more time for this.

“Well, that was your mistake, wasn’t it, pirate?”

“Listen to me, marine. I’ve got a job to do and this is the second time you’ve gotten in my way. Fighting like this is a pointless waste of my time. Just stay away from me and we won’t have any problems with each other, understand?”

He runs. Again. Makes it to his skiff and leaves Jondo and Captain Smoker behind.

-

On the little island of Hushabye, they meet again outside of a public house right after Ace had finally gotten a solid lead on Teach. There’s a crowd gathered in a circle around them. Captain Smoker is turning into a billowing white tower.

“I’m on my way out of town,” Ace tries to reason. He feels sparks under his skin. “There’s no point in doing this again.”

“Backing down from a fight?”

Ace bristles. “No. You’ve caught me at a bad time. I’m in a hurry.”

“Don’t care. Behave and let me arrest you now.”

A warning line of flame blazes across Ace’s shoulders. “Let’s see you try.”

They clash, and the world spins. He hears the screams of the onlookers as they all shove each other to clear out, and Ace does his best to keep his fire from burning any one of them. It’s not easy; the area is crowded, and Smoker is doing him no favors.

Ace leads him away from the street, across rooftops to a quieter part of town. He reforms on a terrace and turns to the haze of smoke that has been following him all this way.

“Appreciate it if we didn’t hurt anyone unnecessarily with this,” Ace says.

A face appears in the smoke. “What do you care, pirate?”

“You should care, marine. Reputation aside, I’m not so much into the smell of the sizzling flesh of the innocent.” He lights his head up and stalks toward Smoker. The man isn’t afraid. He dives for Ace again.

They fall down an alley and zip down it, smoke after fire, until Ace hits a wall. Smoker pins him to the wood. Their faces are so close. The marine’s breath washes over his mouth. How many times will they fight with no conclusion? How many times will Ace run into this man?

“How many times?” Ace asks.

For the first time that Ace has seen, Smoker grins around his cigars. “Getting tired, Portgas?”

Strangely, Ace feels himself flush. “Fuck no. Just sick of seeing your fucking face, old man.”

“Get used to it, kid.”

Ace grimaces at him and ignites his back, burning through the wood. He dodges through the house beyond, out a window, Smoker right behind.

-

The name of this island escapes him at the moment. So does the name of the town, and this street, but the name of the bar is The Elephant Bluefin, and Ace is parched and starving.

It’s busy inside. Ace is looking around for a seat before he sees a familiar head of white hair, and he freezes. Before he can turn back around and get the fuck out of town, the marine looks up and their eyes meet. Gooseflesh.

Just perfect.

If he leaves, Smoker will just follow him. Ace has a bone to pick with him anyway. He saunters over and takes the stool next to the man. “I’m beginning to think it’s me you’re after, with how often we meet,” he says.

Smoker glares at him. Ace hails the bartender. “Gin for me and rum for my friend here.”

“We’re not friends,” Smoker growls as the bartender reaches for the bottle. Ace laughs low.

“No, we’re not, are we? Does it mean I can’t buy you a drink, though?”

“What are you doing here?”

“Fuck if I’m going to tell you. But you’re looking for Luffy.” He smiles as the bartender leaves. “Any closer to catching him?”

“Shut your mouth, Portgas, or I’ll arrest you now.”

“In the middle of this crowded establishment? A little foolish, don’t you think? This place looks pretty flammable...” He looks at the bottles and bottles of alcohol lining the wall behind the bar. “Would hate for it to burn down.”

Smoker looks like he’s about to grind his cigars in half. Ace decide he likes that look on the marine, brow furrowed and vein fit to burst.

“I read about your promotion in the paper,” Ace continue. “Congratulations, Commodore. Job well done, taking credit for Luffy’s actions like that.”

“Tsch. Promotion. If you think I give a shit about what the brass thinks, think again, kid.”

“You seem fine enough with being a part of their conspiracy. Whose credit will you take for your next promotion, Commodore? What’ll be your next cover-up, hm?”

Smoker grabs his arm, so suddenly and sharply it surprises Ace, and when he speaks it’s through a stream of exhaled smoke. “Let me get this straight with you, kid,” he growls. “I give as much of a shit about what my superiors think as you do what I think about your captain. You’re right. Your brother was the one who took down Crocodile. You won’t hear me say otherwise. Understand?”

Smoker releases his arm. Then he drinks the rum, and for some reason unknown to him, that pisses Ace off.

He takes a swallow of his gin and spits it in Smoker’s face with a flare of fire. Of course Smoker’s head goes up in smoke, but Ace doesn’t care; it’s the principle of it. He’s out of the bar in three steps, leaving scorched wood and shouts, Smoker following close behind.

-

He’s an island away from where he should be, he can feel it, and he’s trying to channel some of that undeserved patience Makino had for him. He has no leads, no reports, no nothing—his log pose won’t set for another five days, and he’s getting restless.

Ace recognizes the name on the sail of the ship anchored in the big harbor; it feels like a fate he refuses to believe in that he’s run into it. Maybe it is; maybe it doesn’t matter. Ace is sure he can get what’s there and get out without the marine throwing him in a pair of seastone cuffs.

It’s easy enough to sneak past the watch. The quarters are orderly and the bed is made tight. Typical. He goes to the desk and starts to rifle through, looking for anything he can find on Teach.

It’s only a few minutes before the door opens.

“You,” Smoker says.

“Me, again.”

“The hell are you doing here?”

“What’d you think?” Ace flips open a file and leafs through the papers before closing it again, and moving to the next one. “Pillaging and plundering. I’m here to wreck your office and steal your intelligence and maybe light your bed on fire before I go.” He flashes Smoker a grin. “Looks like you interrupted me before I could get too far.”

Smoker shuts the door. “Get away from my desk, brat.”

“Sorry, I can’t. Not until I get what I need.”

“If what you’re looking for is information about Teach, you’ll be disappointed,” Smoker tells him. Ace pauses. So finally the bastard figured out who he’s after. “There’s nothing there.”

“Doesn’t hurt to look, does it?”

Smoker snuffs his cigars and tucks them into his jacket. “I’ll ask again. Step away from my desk.”

Gods, but he’s tired of this man. Ace turns to look at him, then explodes into a ball of fire. Instantly he’s covered, smoke doing everything it can to keep flames from licking the wooden ship around them. Ace doesn’t really want to burn the ship down, considering he’s on it, but it’s too fun to make the marine panic. And the burning feels so good.

When they re-form, Smoker’s hands are around Ace’s throat, pinned against a wall. Ace sucks in a breath the best he can, then laughs. “Here again, huh, old man?”

“Shut up.”

“We have to stop meeting like this,” he bites out.

“Shut the hell up, pirate, or I’ll—“

“What?” Ace challenges. “You’ll what? You think you can chain me up, old man? You said so yourself, it’ll never work—“

“I’ll run you through here and now.”

“That’s a little dirty, isn’t it, marine?”

“Portgas—“

“With that jitte of yours, would you? Why don’t you—“

He’s cut off, and so is his access to air, and it takes him a moment to realize he’s being kissed hard. It’s crushing pressure. Ace’s lips part in shock. Instantly, Smoker is licking his way inside, and it tastes like so much smoke.

He’s frozen. Smoker starts to back off. Ace catches a glimpse of dark grey eyes, sees what’s reflected there. He seizes the man’s hair and pulls him down again.

The kiss is sloppy and open, tinged with tobacco. Ace can’t stop the moan that rises from somewhere deep. Strong hands lift him, suddenly, like he weighs nothing at all, and then he’s on the bed. Smoker’s body covers his again, and somewhere in it all Ace loses his hat, his boots, his log pose.

Big hands are all over his body, gloved in leather. They both seem to think about it at the same time; Smoker pulls his gloves off with his teeth and throws them aside. When his bare hands touch him, Ace arches into the contact, sighing, and it’s laced with fire and smoke. He wants this with a rising intensity, within him and in his fire. Suddenly Smoker steps away, and Ace sits up on the bed enough to watch Smoker stand in front of him, undoing his belt.

He’s big like the rest of him. Ace feels a rush of blood south and lets his legs fall open. He realizes, suddenly, he’s wanted this for months—maybe since they met. His mouth opens—he means to say ‘fuck me’ or something along the lines of it—but lips capture his, and he groans again.

Hands loosen his belt and drag his shorts down. Smoker grinds their hips together, and Ace moves his too, clawing at Smoker’s shoulders. His hands light up, but they just drag through thick smoke.

“Fuck, yes,” he gasps when they finally part for air. “Yes, yes, yes—“

“Be quiet, brat.”

Ace grins, but it’s shaky with need. “I’m loud.”

“I can tell.”

“Are you gonna fuck me?” Ace asks. He can’t stop how breathy his voice sounds.

Smoker doesn’t reply, just pulls Ace’s shorts off and drops them on the floor. Releasing his cock is a relief, and there’s already precome there that drips onto his stomach, messy. Smoker stands back and looks at him for a moment, pumping his own cock with one hand.

Ace frowns. “What?”

Smoker shakes his head and takes his thighs in his hands, manhandling him into position. He moves him around so easily, it makes Ace grit his teeth, face hot. Smoker doesn’t seem to notice.

He pushes in—no preparation, no lube. The room is clouded, and so are Ace’s thoughts. His head drops back, the sudden, filling feeling almost too much and somehow still not enough. Smoker bites the cut of his jaw, his ear, his neck and starts to move.

“Want you,” he growls.

“Yes—“

“So fucking long. Damn it, brat—“ Smoke and fire mesh. Ace finds that like their fighting, he can flare up as much as he likes, lose it without hurting the man, and it gets him hotter. The flow of smoke through him has him mindless, pure element. Smoker fucking him feels like an ignition—of what, Ace’s words fail him.

“There.” Ace grips Smoker’s arm like he’s falling. “Right there—“

Smoker shifts his angle and fucks him, hard and precise, and Ace’s back arches off the bed—he feels possessed—fire climbs from his body, tries to burn the man above him, but the fire meets smoke and is stoked higher. When Ace comes, he hears the crackle of flame and his own shouts over the rush of blood in his ears.

Smoker pulls out, jacks his cock fast, until he spurts over Ace’s stomach. Ace watches him come through a wavering haze. The room goes quiet save for the sounds of their breathing. Smoker’s body is still covering Ace, and for a moment Ace wonders if he’ll—

“Go.”

Smoker backs off of him, does up his fly. There’s a slight sheen of sweat across his forehead, but his expression is set to his controlled scowl. Ace watches him light a pair of cigars.

“Smoker—“

“I said go.”

Ace gathers his things, gets dressed, and is out the porthole in less than a minute.

-

He’s in the middle of nowhere, out on the open ocean, and he’s taking a rest to eat. As he does, thoughts of a man’s silhouette shrouded in a blanket of smoke crop up, the heavy breathing and feel of flesh against his, and Ace reaches down to press his palm to his cock. After a moment, he sighs and sets his food aside in favor of unhooking his belt. He leans in his skiff, body alight, lets himself burn against the backdrop of the blue sea.

-

Muskolla is another sweltering summer island with waving palms and long beaches. It’s got a sprawling town and a marine base, so Ace throws on a shirt and shoves his hat in his bag. The heat doesn’t bother him. The itching feeling he has does.

There’s a little tavern with an inn attached near the docks, with stone walls and the smell of good food. Ace gets a room and immediately sits at the bar. He’s halfway through his fourth plate before he catches the scent of cigar smoke.

Oh.

Someone sits down on the stool next to him, and he doesn’t have to look up to know who it is. Ace thinks he probably won’t spit in Smoker’s face this time. He’s actually starting to sort of like the man.

“Again,” Smoker mutters.

“You could’ve just passed by, y’know. Then we wouldn’t have to do this.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Because you’re a marine. I know.”

The bartender comes over and Smoker orders food. Ace frowns at him.

“What, you’re gonna wait ‘til I’m done?”

“I’m just hungry, kid. That’s all.”

“Better hope no off duty recruit recognizes me and reports you for fraternization.”

Smoker doesn’t reply to that. Ace goes back to eating, wary.

“Your brother has vanished, you know.”

“Vanished.”

“Yeah. Tried to track him as far as Jaya but he’s just disappeared.”

“You don’t say.”

“Locals said he was heading to Sky Island. Have you ever heard of such a thing?”

Ace hasn’t. He doesn’t know why this conversation is happening. “If Luffy wanted to go to a Sky Island, that’s probably where he is.”

“I thought so too. At any rate, it’s not somewhere I can go. Nothing to do but wait for him to come back down.”

“Too far outside your jurisdiction?”

“I told you, I don’t care about that.”

Ace considers. “You really are angry at your superiors for the promotion, aren’t you.”

“The promotion and the cover up. But yeah.”

“I’m—“ Suddenly, Ace feels himself sway.

The world goes black.

-

It’s not the first time he’s fallen asleep one place then woken up at an entirely different location; it’s not even the first time that location has been on a bed in an inn. Instantly he knows someone is in the room with him. He can smell smoke, and he almost groans.

“About time you woke up.”

Ace takes quick stock: he’s dressed and not chained, though his boots are gone. His knife, however, is not—not that it would do him any good in a fight against Smoker.

“Thought I’d wake up in your brig,” Ace says, sitting up.

Smoker is standing at the window, smoking his cigars. He gives Ace a sidelong look. “Innkeeper said you had a room.”

Ace licks his lips. “So I do.”

Smoker grinds his cigars out in the ashtray on the sill. He walks to the bed and looms over Ace—Smoker is so much bigger than him—he tenses with anticipation—but Smoker only touches his cheek with one bare hand.

Ace will not be the one to initiate; something about making Smoker come to him is intoxicating. He tilts his head up, encouraging. Finally, Smoker seals their lips together.

Finally. Ace moans for him, opens his mouth to taste Smoker’s invading tongue. He wraps his arms around Smoker’s neck, keeping him there. He tastes that tobacco again, and when they part, he presses his face to Ace’s throat.

“More,” Ace gasps, Smoker’s lips against his neck. His palms spark where they touch the man. “I need more.”

-

Idola is an autumn island situated very near the Calm Belt on the Grand Line. It’s ideally situated for trade between the Line and the North Blue, only a short journey through fraught waters to give and receive goods from the entire sea. The city situated on the west side of the island is robust, and it reminds Ace again of Goa and High Town.

They have a yearly fireworks festival that’s in full swing when Ace arrives. Apparently Teach didn’t stick around for the party. Ace surmises he knows he’s after him.

“Again?” Smoker murmurs. Colors light up the room. Ace can barely hear Smoker’s voice over the explosions outside. Smoker bends him over on the bed, Ace’s back curved to make the angle good, though he doesn’t have to do much work; Smoker seems to remember from the first time.

“Harder,” Ace says, and Smoker obeys until Ace’s moans judder with the force of his thrusts. Everyone in town is outside, and anyone inside wouldn’t be able to hear him over the fireworks. It’s a good thing. He couldn’t shut up now if he wanted to.

It’s hazy in the room. When the colorful lights stream in through the window, they catch on the wisps of smoke that bleed from the man behind him. Smoker grabs a fistful of Ace’s hair and pulls his head back for a kiss. When Ace comes, it’s with a high whine against Smoker’s lips that makes him blush—Smoker swallows it all down.

Somehow they both sleep despite the noise. A few hours later, Ace is woken by the jostling of the bed. He watches through an unfocused gaze as Smoker dresses. The man reaches the door and glances back at the bed, but leaves without a word, leaving the lingering scent of smoke.

-

Now that Ace is fairly certain Smoker will just fuck his brains out instead of arrest him, he feels confident climbing through the porthole into the marine’s room. He finds Smoker at his desk, shuffling through what looks like an atrocious amount of paperwork.

Smoker doesn’t look up from his stack. “What are you doing here?”

Figures. “You gonna ask me that every time?”

Smoker turns and looks at Ace with one raised brow and turns back to his paperwork. “Get the hell out of my office, Portgas, before I—“

“Jail me, right. Well, you’ll be glad to know I’m not here to steal your reports or burn down your ship.”

“Then what the hell do you want?”

Ace runs his hands over Smoker’s shoulders, underneath his jacket. He can feel the man is a wisp away from dissolving. “I think you know.”

“I’ve got work to do, kid.”

“You don’t give a shit about that. Besides, I didn’t say you had to stop. Move over.”

“Kid.”

“Stop calling me that. I’m twenty, y’know.” Ace wiles his way in front of Smoker and ducks down under his desk. It’s roomier than it looks. Ace gets comfortable, then reaches for Smoker’s fly.

“You really can’t wait until I’m done?”

“I just like to mess with you,” Ace says, drawing Smoker’s cock out of his pants. Fuck, but he’s big. Ace licks his lips and licks the tip, hearing Smoker sigh.

Ace strokes him into hardness, takes Smoker into his mouth, swallows him down as he listens to the stuttering scratch of Smoker’s pen. He’s getting a rhythm going when all of the sudden, there’s a knock at the door. Then it opens. Ace freezes.

“Commodore, a new report from Headquarters just arrived, marked urgent.”

From his position, Ace can tell Smoker reaches out with his smoke to take the report without his subordinate having to come any closer. Ace takes that as the perfect time to mouth massaging kisses to the head of his cock. There’s a slight twitch in Smoker’s solid arm, but that’s all.

“You can go, Tashigi,” Smoker says, and the door closes.

“Dirty old man.”

“Kid, I swear to every sea—“

“What? It’s not my fault your sergeant doesn’t wait before she walks in.”

Smoker glares. “I’ll put you in chains yet, you understand?”

“Oh, you’re into that?” Ace says before he can stop himself. “Well, I’ll keep that in mind.”

A large hand grabs his scruff and pushes his face back down. It works to hide his smile.

-

They’re laying in the afterglow, Ace’s head on Smoker’s chest while Smoker puffs on a cigar. Smoker isn’t that much bigger than him, but big enough that Ace feels small, curled against him; he likes it, the comfort.

“How close are you to Teach?”

Ace blinks away sleep. “Not sure,” he replies. “I’ve got two reports and either could be him. I need some more information and a map before heading out.”

“You’ll kill him when you find him.”

“Mm-hmm.” Ace closes his eyes again.

“You and your brother are different, aren’t you?”

Ace’s eyes shoot open. “What’s that mean?”

“Relax. I just mean your brother’s not a killer, that’s all.”

“...No, he’s not. He had a mentor...idol, I guess. Red Hair. When he was a kid, before I met him. Pacifist type. Didn’t rub off on me.”

Smoker is quiet for a minute or two. Ace runs a hand up and down his chest and wonders if Smoker would fuck him again tonight. He feels easy thinking about it.

“Before you met him?”

“Yeah. I didn’t know Luffy ‘til I was ten. We’re not...we’re not blood related. But we’re brothers. Understand?”

Smoker puts his cigar between his lips and breathes in...breathes out through his nose. “It figures he’d have someone responsible looking out for him,” he says. “Fool like that would drown in shallow water.”

Ace is about to snap back but then the compliment hits him. Smoker’s other hand comes up to cup the back of his head, fingers mussing his hair.

“Fool like that and you still haven’t caught him?” Ace chooses.

“Every time I’ve come close to catching your brother, someone interrupts. He’s a fool but he’s lucky. And he has friends.”

“Don’t underestimate him. He’s strong, and, well. He’s creative. He’ll figure you out one day.”

“You still haven’t.”

“Commodore, I think you and I are destined to draw until the end of time,” Ace lilts. “I’ve told you before, a fight between us is pointless.”

Smoker seems to consider it. Ace takes the cigar from between Smoker’s fingers and draws on it himself. The taste is so familiar by now. He concentrates, then manages to blow a perfect ring of smoke. “This is better, isn’t it?”

When he looks at Smoker, Smoker is looking back.

-

Whatever this town on this island was called, it wasn’t called anything now.

As soon as he lands, some of Smoker’s men are on him with rifles. “Seastone bullets in those guns?” The recruits glance at each other. “Thought not. Relax,” Ace says. “I just wanna talk to Commodore Smoker. Why don’t you take me to him?”

They do, still at gunpoint. The village is worse off than Ace had imagined. Burned down to nothing, and entire community gone. Citizens mill about with lost looks, standing in front of debris and staring, despondent.

Smoker is sitting among some wreckage, jacket gone with his jitte nearby. He tells the recruits to go away when he sees who they’re tailing.

That sergeant is there too. The woman takes one look at him, gives a surprised gasp, then excuses herself. Ace frowns.

“Teach?” He asks Smoker.

“...No. Should’ve taken your other lead.”

“We should start comparing notes,” Ace tries. Smoker just shakes his head. He looks tired, deeply, not in a way Ace has ever seen on him. It’s wiped away when two children approach him. The younger one is silent, fists clenched, tears in his eyes; the older has her hands on his shoulders, and she speaks to Smoker quietly.

Ace watches. Smoker stands and puts a hand on the older child’s head, then turns to Ace.

“Your man’s not here,” he says. Then he leads the children away.

-

“What happened?”

Smoker’s shoulder is bandaged. It surprises Ace; after battling the marine so many times with no injuries inflicted, the man seems invincible in his mind. Smoker looks like he forgot the wound was there at all.

“We caught up that crew that wrecked Reed Village. They’d gotten ahold of some marine-issue seastone weapons. We’re looking into it. Took me by surprise, that’s all,” he says, shrugging his good shoulder.

“Pirates in your brig, pirate in your bedroom?” Ace jokes. Smoker looks too haunted for it to be funny just now. Still, he pulls Ace onto the bed and into his lap. Ace rides him until they’re both gasping. Ace decides not to poke at that particular bruise anytime soon.

Somehow the wrapping ends up singed. “Sorry,” Ace says, genuinely. Smoker waves him off.

He leaves Ace sprawled on the bed to catch his breath while he gets a cloth and a pair of cigars. Ace stares at his ass from across the room until he realizes Smoker is looking at a fresh roll of bandages, clearly pondering how he’s going to manage changing them himself. Ace gets up and takes the roll.

“Here...let me.”

And Smoker lets him, patiently holds his arm up so Ace can wind the bandaging around him. He thinks he does a good job with it. He smooths his hand over to make sure the tape is secure, mindful to avoid the cut. It’ll scar. Seastone wounds always do.

“There,” he says. “That’s better, right?”

It would be too tender to kiss him now, but Ace finds he wants to. He doesn’t have to; Smoker leans down and captures his lips.

-

Ace decides not to count how many times they’ve met and fucked. It would seem too obsessive, or too guilty, and he doesn’t really feel either way about the old man.

He thinks about reporting back, but it’s not as though he’s compromised. The times they have talked about Pops, it was mostly Ace being defensive. The information they do discuss is all extra material Ace had gathered while tracking Teach. No secrets exchanged.

Except when Smoker had looked the other way while Ace picked through his desk for reports. So if anyone was compromised, it was Smoker.

It just wasn’t worth worrying Pops about a fling, and besides, Ace will find Teach and then it would be over. He’ll go back to his crew and his ship in the New World and probably never see the marine again.

In his skiff, he adjusts his course and swallows down an odd bittersweet feeling in his throat. And he’ll catch up to Teach soon. He can feel it.

-

It’s something like the fourteenth time. The room is mostly dark, one faint lamp glowing on Smoker’s desk. Ace takes off his bag, his boots, his hat, his shorts, and still Smoker doesn’t notice. He has to admire the man’s focus.

“You’ll kill your eyes like that.”

Smoker sits up and turns, blinking. As Ace approaches, he holds out his hands silently. Ace takes them, makes straddle his lap, but Smoker pulls him in first, so he’s sitting sideways.

Smoker wraps him up in his arms, keeps him, his nose pressed to Ace’s cheek. He kisses him there.

His voice rumbles. “Alright?”

“You don’t have to do that,” Ace gets out.

“Do what?”

“Be that...like that.”

From the tenor of his silence, Smoker seems to understand what he means, but still he gives light kisses. Blood rushes to Ace’s cheeks. Stop is on the tip of his tongue, but he doesn’t know why he has the urge to say it—he doesn’t want it to stop. It’s barely any touch at all, but still it overwhelms him.

Suddenly, Smoker lifts him. A surprised sound slips out of Ace.

“Relax, kid.”

He can’t remember the last time he was carried like this. Maybe Gramps. Ace clings to his shoulders while Smoker carries him to bed. He lays Ace down and then starts to undress himself, surveying Ace the whole time with hooded eyes.

“Tired?”

“Not too tired for this.”

He climbs in bed and spreads himself out over Ace, covering his body. Slowly, Smoker works his way down; his throat, his chest, his stomach, to his hips and thighs. He takes his time there, kissing the sensitive inside of Ace’s thigh, a graze of lips. It’s so gentle—Ace shivers.

He presses his nose there, inhaling, licks down to where Ace’s skin is damp with sweat, and this is it, Ace thinks desperately, this is how he breaks. He melts into flame, and cracks one eye open and turns his head to see Smoker’s face half smoke.

“Slow it down, kid.”

“But I want—“

“I know. You’ll get it.”

He takes Ace’s cock in one hand and strokes—and his hand is so big, covering Ace with calloused pressure. Ace’s breath stutters.

“More,” he says.

Smoker obliges him. They fuck—they blend. Ace thinks he likes this most of all; when they blur at the edges.

Later, when they’re through and both still awake, Smoker spoons up behind Ace and buries his face in his hair. Ace can’t get the gentle touches out of his head. He doesn’t...get touched, like that. Very often. Wasn’t really aware Smoker was capable of it, not with him.

Doesn’t really think he’s deserving of it, but here Smoker is, hands gliding over him, kisses soft. The point of a knife wedges it’s way between Ace’s third and fourth rib at the thought.

Smoker sighs, nuzzles his hair. “Alright?”

Ace closes his eyes and turns his face into the pillow to hide. “Yeah.”

-

The seastone chains aren’t so heavy they hinder him; they’re thin cuffs looped through the headboard of Smoker’s bed, and Ace wonders where Smoker got them, if he got them just for this.

The room is hazy with smoke, shedding off Smoker in white-grey plumes. It stings Ace’s eyes, but he breathes it in anyways, tasting it on the back of his tongue. He know Smoker will keep it from entering his lungs, from choking him.

But he could choke him, Ace realizes all of a sudden, along with the realization that he really didn’t ponder all of this out before he agreed to be chained up. And not just with his smoke. Smoker is so much bigger than him, hands strong. He could crush Ace’s throat, break his ribs, twist his back around until he snaps. But Ace knows Smoker, by now—knows that he could, but he wouldn’t.

Trepidation and safety at the same hands, literally. It feels a little like standing at the edge of a precipice and having the same person who pushes him, catch him. A trust fall.

Smoker’s hands cup his ribs and stroke his sides down to his hips. A needy noise shakes it’s way out of Ace. “Please,” he says.

“Please what?” Smoker murmurs.

“Ah...hurry up.”

Smoker shushes him, palming his thighs, positioning him. He kneels there, naked, in front of Ace, and runs his hands up Ace’s chest to thumb hard nipples. Ace takes a deep breath.

He doesn’t hurry up. He moves slow like it’s a massage, and when he finally gets his mouth on Ace, it’s at his navel. Those hands push his legs until fingers can brush his hole, and slide inside.

Finally something Ace can grind against. He does his best to move his hips for more contact despite the immobility of his hands—but Smoker backs off enough that his fingers only brushes that spot in him.

“Sit still.”

“How? You’re driving me crazy down here.”

Smoker adds another finger, up to three now. Ace groans and huffs.

“Fuck, old man.” His legs are spread wide, inviting. He’s hard and wet and trembling, feeling fucked out from Smoker’s fingers alone—this is taking so long, and Ace can’t do a thing about it, hands tied and unable to turn to flame. He squirms and cants his hips up just to feel Smoker pin them down again.

Smoker isn’t smirking, isn’t even smiling; he has a look of concentration, of calm focus, even though Ace can see he’s hard too. It makes the hair on Ace’s head stand up, the scrutiny. It would feel uncomfortable if Ace didn’t find it so fucking hot.

“Fuck me, please?” He tries, nearly a stutter on the f.

“I will.”

“What’re you waiting for?”

“You to come.”

Ace blurts out a nervous laugh. “You’re gonna have to do more for me if you want me to come.”

“I know. I will.” He gives Ace’s prostate a press, more than he had up until now; Ace nearly shouts, and he laughs again.

“Fuck, you trying to kill me?”

“I just want you to slow down.”

“Why?”

Smoker doesn’t answer. He fucks with his fingers more insistently, prolonged thrusts. Ace moans, loud and frustrated, and bears his hips down, trying to goad Smoker, but Smoker only watches him.

“Don’t you wanna fuck me?” Ace asks, desperate.

“Yeah.”

“Well?”

Smoker meets his eye and suddenly there’s less of him than there was a moment ago; his entire form blurs, and Ace has never seen this before without the haze of his fire’s heat in front of him. It’s a strange sight, a man not entirely there.

The smoke touches him everywhere—if Ace had been turned on by the coverage of Smoker’s hands before, he drips now, the sensation and the fear and the assurance of it titillating. And all that gentle touch is back, that barely there contact. He shakes.

“Alright?” Says Smoker’s distant voice.

Ace swallows. “Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh. Keep going.”

‘Keep going’ must be the magic words. Smoker ducks down and takes Ace’s cock in his mouth in one easy motion. Ace gives in to a gasp that turns into a whine, high and reedy. It’s so much more stimulation that he’s had up until this point in the night, and all of the sudden; it’s sweet and it aches. All he wants is more.

He hears himself begging for it, his hips undulating as much as he can, and when Smoker backs off just to tongue come from his slit, his vision tunnels.

He doesn’t know how long he’s out, only that Smoker licks him clean and that his arms are starting to cramp. When he opens his eyes, Smoker still has all that focus suckling at his soft dick, and Ace feels a human rush of heat all over again.

“That’s it, kid,” Smoker says against his skin.

“You really are trying to kill me.”

Smoker looks up from his position and fuck but he looks good there between Ace’s legs, cheek against his thigh, mouth wet. His breath is hot, but somehow it gives Ace chills.

Smoker sits back on his knees and moves closer. Now he has a slight grin. He lifts Ace’s legs and pushes in, angle perfect against his overstimulated prostate. A keening noise breaks out of Ace, and he has the urge to cover his face, to hide, but he can’t.

“Shh.”

“Don’t shush me.”

“Just keep it down.”

“Ri-fuck—“ Ace chokes on the swear.

“Maybe I should gag you next time.”

“You like to hear me,” Ace accuses. He gasps as Smoker starts to pick up the pace.

“Next time I’ll turn you over and eat you out,” Smoker says, voice punctured by his thrusts. “Take my time with you.”

He slows, fucking in and out of Ace with controlled rolls of his hips, before picking up again, and it feels like music. “Fuck me,” falls out of Ace’s mouth. He means ‘more’ or ‘keep going’—he’s not entirely sure which—but he has no more volition.

“I am.”

“Please.”

“That’s it,” Smoker says roughly, smile back. “Asking nicely. Good boy.” Ace turns red at the name, hopes it’s not obvious, but he can tell from Smoker’s look he notices anyway. “Hot little thing, taking me like this. Making it so good for me...”

Ace is flush all over—he’s close—he needs to light up, but he can’t—a terrible shock and seize wracks his body, mind wiped of thought as he comes for the second time that night. Smoker follows with a muffled shout; Ace stares at the ceiling as Smoker shakes above him, listens to the sound of his harsh breathing, feels the hot air against his neck, how Smoker’s hands grip at his flesh.

There’s a quiet click and a snap, and the cuffs fall away. A wave of fire flares down Ace’s torso, just for the feeling of being free. Smoker runs a hand through it, watching still.

Later that night, Ace wakes up to some small noise, and he’s half underneath Smoker, his heavy head on his chest. The cuffs glint on the bedside table, and here he lays, free.

Ace combs his fingers through Smoker’s hair, feels the short strands at the back of his neck, and wonders where his claustrophobia has gone.

-

It’s been a month. The smart part of Ace’s brain knows that’s not really a lot of time, in the grander scheme of things—the stupid part of him craves smoke and big hands.

He’s never actively sought someone out before. He tells himself he’s still following his lead, stopping for supplies and a rest from the roar of his skiff. He ignores his log pose and follows the pull of his fire in the direction of smoke.

It’s late, later than he usually shows up, and the town on this spring island is dark as he coasts up to the docks quietly. The night is still, no breeze and calm waters, the only noise the lap of the sea against the beach. Smoker’s ship is anchored on the other end of the small bay.

At this point the watch could see him and it wouldn’t make a difference. He climbs through the open porthole. Smoker is already in bed, asleep. Ace undresses and pulls the sheets back.

Smoker stirs. Ace leans down, kisses him, and in a moment Smoker is kissing him back, all tongue. Hands take his waist, and Ace sighs in relief, fire making the room glow in low light.

“Want you,” Ace tells him.

“It’s late, kid.” He slurs slightly. There’s an ache deep in Ace’s chest. He straddles Smoker’s hips.

“Slut,” Smoker calls him. He fists Ace’s hair, pulls his head back, kisses his throat with a low, hungry noise.

“Yes,” Ace breathes.

-

Smoker does eat him out. Chains him up again; Ace bent on the bed with his ass in the air, nowhere to go and no fire, no contact but Smoker’s hands spreading him and his tongue. Teeth scrape over his skin and Ace comes undone, in streaks over the sheets. Fucks him while he’s raw, and by the end Ace’s voice is blown out, pillowcase damp with drool.

The cuffs fall away again. Smoke stokes Ace’s body heat back up to burning. When he turns over, hands take his own, thumbs running over the marks on his wrists. “Alright?” Smoker asks.

It’s Ace’s reflex to flinch. He flushes when Smoker presses his lips to the marks. “You don’t have to do that,” he says again.

Smoker kisses him, slow and quiet. A balloon swells in Ace and presses against his ribs until they’re ready to crack. He feels full.

-

Banaro.

“Slut,” Teach calls him. Long fingernails bite into his flesh.

Ace supposes he’s right.