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It was a blameless kiss that was placed swiftly on Ace’s freckled cheeks, one long press for each. A hand crept on his nape, cupping him close to her, gently. The warm, licentious wave of thrill born from errant hoping rose inside of him, hitching in his throat and clenching his heart. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to prevent the shaky sound that threatened to spill out.
A simple gesture, one that Rouge exacted on everyone she greeted and departed with. Ace knew full well he wasn't special for the treatment he received, outside of him being her son; he could pull a few more from her, ones where she’d ruffle his hair and call him her boy, if he really wanted them enough. Greedily, it was more often than not.
His mother’s peachy lipstick imprinted onto his cheeks, her sweet perfume attacking his senses as she swooped in close, before she was swaying away, just as fast.
His cheeks heated, and a rosy pink flushed his features, dousing him in color. His mother always chalked it up to embarrassment, for being past the age of wanting a show of such outward motherly kisses and affections, but Ace knew it to be something else.
Many times, he’d been overtly needy in the presence of his parents, purposefully pulling a few extra kisses from his mother, all while glaring over his shoulder at his father. He had a mean jealousy streak, that he could not deny. He loved his mother, sincerely and deeply, but he hated her love for him. In truth, it disgusted him to think of her with him, even before he was known. How his mother fell for a man such as his father, Ace couldn’t fathom. He was monstrously loud, arrogant and too headstrong. He could get nasty in the throes of an argument, he could get drunk, and when it seemed the floor was underneath him, he still found a way to get drunker.
Rouge was not too different, in her ways. It was often a point of contension between the three of them; that Ace was refusing to see the reality of the situation; that he was just like his father in these aspects, with his dogged loyalty to her, and his difficultly settling alongside him.
She pinched his cheeks in one hand, lightly squeezing skin. Not hard enough to redden, but tight enough for Ace to feel the loss of tension when she pulled away and stood on her toes to place a flat kiss on his forehead. “I’ll see you later, make sure Dad takes his meds, and don’t let him trick you. I’ll be home before midnight. He gets cranky if I have to wake him up for them, so please don't forget.”
Ace didnt want to think of his father right now. He listened to her prattling on, reminding him of what to do and how to do it, as if he hadn't been taking care of the old man for years. Quickly, he pushed the thoughts away.
Absentmindedly, he didn’t answer her, instead, hyperfocusing on the warm spot she’d kissed. He brought his hand to the slightly damp skin, feeling the residue of her lipstick on his fingertips. His line of vision peered down, into the top cut of her dress, where her cleavage was plainly on display. The secondary moment of time he slipped into must have been longer than he thought, as Rouge’s hand came back to his face, holding him tenderly.
“…Ce? Ace?” her motherly voiced coaxed. Her eyebrows knitted upwards, wrinkling the skin of her forehead, her mouth downturned in concern.
The snap of reality was as cruel as it always was, like the first snap of winter after a summer of fun. He jerked his hand away, and let it fall to his side, clenching his fist around his thumb.
“Yeah, sure,” he added, hoping it was enough to convince her that he had been tuned into their conversation.
It did not cease her worry, in fact, it proved to do the opposite. “Is everything alright?”
“Yes, Mamá, I’m fine. I promise. I’ll watch over him while you’re gone, he’ll be okay.” Ace tried to withhold the vitriol in his voice when he mentioned him, but he knew it seeped through when his mother flinched slightly.
Sixteen years, and it seemed that Rouge still could not fathom her son’s hatred for the man she’d married. His own father, his flesh and blood. It was more that she didn’t want to see it, than she didn't know of it. She could not understand it, or accept it, but she lived with it all the same. He used to wonder how much she really knew, but when he found himself with growing urges, he tried to stop that line of thought.
Secretively, Ace was almost positive that she knew how much he craved her touch, and that she saw how he lingers after her, hanging on every word. A sweetly pressed kiss on the cheek from her, and his hunger was momentarily gone, until it was replaced with a ravenous feeling of famine, and he was back to waiting. It was the best when she’d expectantly hold her own cheek out, and wait for his kiss.
Steeling herself, she bit her lip. “I wasn’t talking about your father. I was asking for you. I don’t want to be the overprotective mother — you know I’m not, Ace,” she sighed, her voice lowering only slightly above a whisper, “but I do worry over you.”
“I know, I know,” he surrendered easily under her touch. He wasn't lying, when he said it. There was truth to his words, at least in the way he felt about it all. His mother’s love was never smothering, never too much. “You’re not, I know you aren't—”
“—Are you sick?” Rouge fretted with a quiet gasp, cutting him off. The back of her palm came swiftly to feel the heat of Ace’s forehead. Partially due to the rush of blood, partially due to the anger he’d cultivated at the thought of Roger. She was a worrier, naturally, as her husband's sickness became a larger and larger factor in both of their lives, until he was reliant on them, so did her fussing. To have a husband be down, sick and frail, was one thing. To lose a son to it, would be another.
“You’re hot,” distress was thick in her voice. Her hand then touched his left cheek, then his right. When she pulled away, she shook her hand like his skin had been on fire.
“Mamá, I’m fine, really. You should go out with your friends, it’s been a while.”
“No, no, you’re sick, aren’t you?” she cursed, and reached behind him to grab her phone off of the counter that he was pressed so tightly against. “You should have said something. You come first, my ladies can wait. Let me help?”
Ace grabbed the phone out of her hands before she could unlock it. He hated feeling like a burden. He pocketed it, thoughtlessly. “I’m okay, I promise. You don’t need to worry so much. If I was sick, I would tell you, you know that. I don't lie, at least not to you.”
She seemed resigned to staying home. He wanted her to go out, and have some time for herself, feel free and have fun without the constraints of his father. Even if it meant staying behind. Still, he selfishly found himself longing for his mother to stay.
Rouge stepped closer, if it was possible. Ace’s flesh dug into the counter behind him. Awkwardly, he grabbed her arms, gathering her up, and ceasing her disquiet, remembering how she would do it to him. He rubbed down her smooth skin, as she took a few calming deep breaths.
“Are you sure…?”
Ace swallowed the heart in his throat. His stomach was churning, his nerves on fire. All he had to do was ask, and she’d stay. He inhaled shakily and chewed on his lip, before answering, “Yes.”
She saw right through him.
Rolling her chain purse off of her shoulders, she threw it onto the counter behind him. “I’m staying. I’ll make you some tea. Go sit on the couch, or your bed, and I’ll bring it to you. Don't worry about Dad.”
Spite flared in his chest again, scorning him like acid. Before she could pull away, he seized his grip on her arms. If she was shocked, she didn't show it. His clutch was comfortable, snug, yet daring to demand. If she pulled away after this, he would yield himself to just let go.
“Wait.”
She rubbed at the matching freckles on his cheek with her thumb. A small smile formed on her face, revealing her reverie. He betrayed himself, and let his mind begin to travel, musing about how much she wanted him too. Did she need him? Roger was merely a husk of the great man he once was. Ace had never gotten the chance to know him as he had been. It was Ace’s job to step up. Did his mother see that? Did she dare to want it, even if she hadn’t shown it?
When Rouge froze, Ace dropped his hands once more. She wasn’t going to leave. There was no reason for him to be so defensive. He had her.
In a more aggravated place of his mind, he reminded himself that he only had her for as long as Roger willed it, when he’d inevitably call her back to him, wanting water, or to see her face. He shook the thoughts from his head.
His face must have given him away, because Rouge was back to her solemn look, and asking after him once more. “What is it?”
Shrugging, Ace allowed himself to be pitied. The attention was his seventh heaven, buzzing underneath his skin, and growing against his shorts.
“I just miss you. When you’re not working, you’re taking care of Dad. And I don't want to be around him. You don't like hearing it, but you should hear it, it’s true. I… wish it was only us sometimes.” Carefully, he made sure to replace his more sour words, stifling the true bitterness, all to save Rouge’s heart. He felt guilty for it, and tacked on, “I’m sorry.”
Slowly, his hand came to rest on her hip, gently cupping it, scared to ward her off. He approached it like he was coaxing a wild animal to eat from his palm. When she did not budge, or shy away, his motions became louder, and he pinched the rumple in the fabric between his forefingers. His thumb stroked, feeling how thin the fabric of her dress really was. If he were to press hard enough, even a hair more, he would be able to feel the skin underneath.
It felt like torture, but he measuredly let all of his fingers crowd her hip, one after the other, slow like heated sugar, until he was holding her. Hedonistically, he wished for more. He forced himself to push that feeling down, and savored what she had allowed so far.
She looked down, at the dwindling space between them. “I should be the one apologizing. I’ll be honest,” she blushed, and Ace nearly took her there, “I’m surprised that you feel that way.”
Her breath caught, and Ace wanted to kiss it from her. “I thought you were sick of me. I didn’t want to be that mom, and I thought maybe you wanted your own space, you got your own room away from Luffy last year. I assumed it all carried over with that.” Then, a smile overtook her features once more. “I’m happy.”
Rouge wrapped her arms around him, her smaller frame engulfing him in a hug. The feeling of being held by her was so warming, so utterly maddening, that Ace could have died right there. He threw all of his caution to the wind. If she pressed hard enough, and hiked her knee to feel his erection, so what? She’d finally know, for sure, how he wanted her. There'd be no excuse. At least, he had none, and there was nothing he wanted to conjure up as a pardon.
Rocking slowly, her nose settled into the corner of his neck, and his hands audaciously tightening on her waist, Ace smiled into her soft waves, inhaling the salty, fruity scent of her shampoo. He hummed lowly, and the vibration in his chest must have resounded and bounced off of his mother, who hummed back, and fell into a small fit of giggles.
There was no time that would have been long enough for Ace to have been completely fulfilled. When she withdrew, her hands tangled in his hair and ruffled in his black curls, leaving Ace feeling small. Soon enough, they found their place at the nape of his neck, weaving in between locks, and ghosting light scratches on his scalp.
She used her position to nudge Ace’s head downward, until she placed a loving kiss at his crown. It was a quick one, nothing at all to write ballads about, but it still fueled his want, and lit him aflame.
The second, was a sweet, smile-forming peck on the cheek, with her hand coming from behind his neck to cup his cheek and press her closer. It left a smudge of wetness behind, likely a mix of her spittle and lipstick, and Ace nearly wished she were gone, so he could capture it in his fingers, and bring it to his lips.
Pistioning his head with her hand, she placed a parting kiss on the other cheek, mimicking the previous. Ace gulped, and prayed she indulged, and would go in for another.
By some miracle, Rouge did. It was in the same spot, or at least she aimed for it, but Ace couldn’t bare to not strike while the iron was hot. When she angled in to stamp a kiss to his cheek, Ace swiveled his head so quickly that the base of his neck tingled with fuzzy heat, and so tightly that she had no choice but to press her lips to his own. As their mouths met, he inhaled deeply, consuming everything she had to offer. The soft skin of her lips, the peachy taste of her lipstick, the freckles dusting her cheeks, all the way ontowards her nose bridge, with a lone mole on her forehead.
Turning away was impossible, he couldn’t close his eyes. Not until he saw it all. He wished briefly that he had the wisdom and experience his father held, in the simplicity of knowing Rouge for so long. Ace wanted to know where to look, where to touch, what to say. He cursed himself for thinking of Roger in the moment.
Before she could pull away, or even realize what he’d done, Ace tugged her closer, his grip clenching around her waist. Rouge’s mouth went slack against him, retreating from their pucker until they were slim in a flat line. The second Ace felt Rouge ebbing away from him, he pressed their kiss harder, until he was craning towards her. She released his grip on him, hurrying to grab his biceps, but Ace caught her by the elbow, halting her from fully recoiling.
Although she was successful in tearing her mouth from his. Ace followed her almost on instict, his mouth trailing after hers. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and he bit lightly on the bottom, as if it would confine his want. Rouge could not get far, but she hacked the space between them as if she were wielding a cleaver. Her expression was one of disorientation; eyes wide like saucers; mouth slightly ajar — there was little stopping Ace from swooping in and infiltrating her once more.
Her unsure expression, one partly of mortification at what she’d done, albeit accidentally, only stoked the flames to his desire. Ace did not kiss her again, not yet, but he hooked his foot behind her, encircling her. His hand drifted from her elbow to land at her lower back. Rouge brought the free hand to her lips, feeling the kissed skin, the other pressing in protest against Ace’s chest.
His cock was hard, tenting against the constraints of his shorts. Underneath the cloth, he was straining, aching for Rouge’s touch. He pressed it against her front with a snap of his hips, letting her feel his want. His face crowded in close to hers, his once broken, now crooked nose pressing into her cheek, lips hovering over the skin. His breaths came uneven and low as he waited for her to make the first move.
Enveloping her wrist, Ace gently pulled it from her face and brought it to his chest, rubbing his fingers over her own in an attempt to braid their hands together when she did not seem to move. Arching his head down, he kissed her knuckles, looking up at her through his eyelashes, and whispered soft words into her skin.
From there, he turned her hand palm up, and ventured a kiss onto her pulse point, stalling against it just to feel the way it hummed, then pressing another slightly higher. Imprinting one into her temple, her hair was cool and silky as he leaned into it. She was flush with him now, and he knew she could not deny the way he was urging against her. His cock poked her hip, and Ace rutted slightly, letting the friction take him a step closer to bliss.
As quick as a spark leaping wildly from it’s hearth, Ace striked forwards and captured her plush lips once more. His tongue swiped at the thin line that kept them sealed, craving the taste of her mouth. He was terribly inexperienced, Ace had only really seen kisses such as these in action in films, and read about them alongside stagnant picture in shitty porno-mags stolen from Garp’s glovebox. Ergo, he did whatever felt best.
Which meant he was desperately licking at her shut lips, begging for entrance in all but words, sighing, humming, moaning. It was disjointed and messy, and Rouge was hardly breathing underneath his touching. His own breaths were panted, his skin warm with the force of lust that thrummed through him. Trailing his hand to the shoulder strap of her dress, he peeled it away, and as it fell to her bicep, the neckline of her dress lowered. He felt at her breast, tussling the fabric, until it slipped low enough for him to grope.
“Ace, stop—” she laboured against him, trying to counter his assault of kisses. His grip was tight around her wrist, and any attempts she gave at shooing away his wandering hand were lost. She curled her fingers on his wrist, prying them from her skin, but as soon as they were disconnected, they found purchase elsewhere; her lower back, fishing around for the edge of her dress; hooking two fingers into the neck of her dress to pull it down completely; her waist, pinching the skin to make her squirm.
When she spoke, Ace dived his tongue into her mouth, lapping his tongue against hers, tasting the mild hints of caramel and vanilla rum, alongside the sharpness of what was once a breath mint. He sucked her tongue, then moved to her bottom lip. Rouge’s tongue hesitantly swiped against his own — an accident, most likely, but Ace didn’t care.
“Let me,” Ace pleaded into her mouth, biting her lip. A soft gasp elicited from her at that, which Ace drank up with a fervor. “You said you wanted to help me, that I was sick,” the words were slashing as they rained from him, “so help me, Mamá. Help me get better,” he pressed his cock into her dress again, this time arching towards her inner thigh.
“Ace,” Rouge averred, leaving little room for argument, the inflection in her voice almost sounding like a scold. She was still detaching, pulling away from him wherever she could, bit by bit. He couldn’t let her go. His hand lowered to the back of her thigh, pawing at the plump bareness he found, fiddling with the bottom of her dress, then yanking it upwards, exposing her flank, until it was hiked so far up, Ace felt her shiver as the cool air rushed against her.
His finger plucked at the satin fabric of her panties, inching them down her soft skin. She writhed, her legs thrashing, as Ace’s mouth assailed her neck. He nipped with his teeth, and apologized with his tongue, sucking until she was left with a bruise.
Rouge failed to withhold the moan that erupted, as Ace nipped with his teeth, and apologized with his tongue, sucking until she was left with a bruise. The air between them was heady and Ace’s head was whirling with every gasp and sigh.
More and more, Ace pulled the moans from Rouge’s throat, until they were overflowing, matching the tempo of his own. He kissed under her jawline, beneath her ear, all the way to her collarbone.
“We can’t,” she protested between heavy breaths, “your father is in—” she moaned again, her words mumbled and airy, and she seemed to abandoned the thought of Roger — Ace felt something swell in his chest — “you’re my son, it just isn't right.”
“Exactly,” Ace whimpered into her, “I’m yours.”
“What if…” Rouge tried to reason, but she was cut off again by Ace’s lips. He shook his head, there wasn't a single bone in his body that cared what it was she had to say next. She hummed into his kiss, and her lips parted. Their tongues met again, and this time it was Rouge taking the front seat; guiding his head with hers; teasing him with playful licks and pecks.
He clambered for the back of her thigh again, reaching to pull it into his hands and wrap her leg around him. She went willingly, her once battering arms now enveloped around him, tangling in the curls at the base of his nape, and hooking around his shoulder. It allowed Ace to bring her front flush to his, where his cock would hang between her thighs, had he been naked.
With her weight leaning against him, his back was strained against the sharp edge of the countertop, but as she rocked her hips against his slowly, rolling them calculatedly until the tent in his shorts caught underneath her dress, Ace could hardly feel it. His cock twitched, and she must have felt it against her inner thigh, for she brought a hand to it, rubbing the fabric with the flat of her palm.
He moaned into their kiss and chased after the friction she offered up. Soon enough her hand was slipping underneath his belt, rummaging against his zipper, and opening his shorts.
Even with the loss of fabric separating them, it wasn't enough. He’d leaked a wet spot into his briefs, his cock weeping to be set free. Her slender fingers were adept, stroking him until his hips had no choice but to rut against her, his immature thrusts rocking the both of them.
Rouge steadied his hips with a gentle hand when they became too erratic. It left Ace aching for more, but he was resolutely able to listen. It proved to do him good, as she reached into his briefs, and pulled his cock out. He shot a hand out behind him to grapple onto the counter.
She stroked his cock monstrously slow, her fist clenched loosely around the tip of his cock. It did not take long for her palm to become sticky with pre-come, as she jerked him off. Despite the hand around his cock, he could not tear his eyes away from her body. Her lips were marked red, her lipstick smudged, and bruises were beginning to form on her neck where he’d kissed her purple. She bit her lower lip. Her skin was shiny with spit he’d left behind, and her breasts were jostling against him with every flick of her wrist.
“Fuck,” he moaned, clenching her thigh tightly, and willing himself to keep his eyes open, “please don’t stop.”
Rouge did not answer, instead, she looked away to the side, but his cry made her wrist speed up, taking him in her hand from tip to base. His thrusts met her strokes, and the beginnings of an orgasm was gripping him, until she wrenched her hand away, leaving him heaving for air, and rutting into the small cavity of open space between them.
Eagerly, she did not allow her absence to simmer for too long, as she hiked her dress up all the way, so that the ends were circling her navel, and quickly grabbed hold of his cock again. Her panties were half off, lopsided and rolled underneath itself, so she took no time lowering them until they were hanging loosely on her upper thighs. Positioning his cock so that it sat atop her underwear, she resumed her position attached to him. With a hand on the back of his head, she urged him to move.
Canting forward, Ace’s cock slid against her underwear, the wetness she’d spilled mixing with his own, providing a slick surface for him to thrust into. Rouge matched him once more, occasionally gaiting her hips upwards into his strokes, so that the slit of her cunt was sliding atop his cock. The velvety softness that threatened to envelope him was a new sensation, one that kindled an almost boyish excitement. Ace knew the flush on his cheeks was intense, he could see it mirrored on his mother’s face.
Rouge moaned into his neck as she gyrated, kissing the freckles that littered his neck. His cock caught on the edge of her entrance, arching towards her. He stalled his movements, partially in a moment of floundering, partially in part of waiting to see her reaction. Seizing his cock in her grip, she rocked her clit against his shaft with a moan, the wet sounds of her cunt rubbing him filling the room. They were being too loud, Ace knew it.
But as she used his cock for her pleasure, crying out every time he rocked his hips at just the right angle, his tip kissing her clit, any caution he might have had left was thrown to the wind. It took everything in Ace to not come. He was torn between the thought of coming in her panties, pulling them up, and sending her back to Roger, or fucking her right here on the counter.
He watched infatuadedly as she humped his cock, and waited for her legs to shudder just enough for him to reason his next actions. Flipping them, Ace swung her off of her feet, and with her still in his arms, hurled her towards the counter, so that she was laying as flat as she could atop of it. Her feet reached out to rest on the neighboring counters, and her head laying against the broken glasswares cabinet.
Ace crowded in on her, his cock resting on her cunt, his hands coming to hold her thighs to ensure she wouldn’t slip off of the cool surface. He held his cock in his fist, rubbing it on the spot he’d watched Rouge rock on, and basked in the high gasps and moans that tumbled from her as he did it. His cock was red and irritated, craving release. A look down told him that her cunt was too, her lips red and pulsating. Arching over her, he kissed her deeply, their tastes mixing, tongues rolling. Reaching down, he pulled her panties until they snapped, one of the bands breaking. It fell to her ankle, like it had never even been there in the first place. He adjusted his stance all the while, and pressed his cock to her entrance.
“Wait,” she sighed, her hand placed flat against his navel. She pulled her head away, and bent to try to look around the corner. Roger was in his bedroom, although his door was still cracked. Ace buried his face in her neck, kissing and sucking at marks he’d long since created instead of glancing towards the hallway. “The door…”
“No,” Ace concluded, ignoring her hand against him. The door didn’t matter. Roger didn’t matter.
He kissed up her neck until he arrested her lips with his own, kissing the defiance from her. He pressed into her cunt with a loud gasp, tight heat shrouding him as she stretched with his cock. Her jaw fell slack, her head tilting upwards, knocking noisily against the cabinet door as she sighed.
As soon as he bottomed out, Rouge up to the hilt, he thought his legs were going to turn to jelly and give away. It was his mother’s hands snaked around his waist, laying onto his lower back that steadied him. Lowering down, he pressed his forehead against her own, and she gave a small nod.
Ace reared backwards before slamming forward, his hips slapping against the back of her thighs. With the rough motion, she knocked into the cabinet again, and soon, it became a part of their symphony. She guided him through it as best as she could with her body, jerking her hips, pulling him into her, and pressing her ankles into his back when she wanted him to go deeper. His thrusts were disheveled, some shallow, others deeper than he thought possible, and tilted at an angle. He simply chased the high, his pace quickening when his orgasm rumbled low in his belly.
One of Rouge’s hands had retreated, rubbing her clit in tempo with Ace’s thrusts. He took the chance to grapple one of her breasts and squeeze it as it bounced. He pulled on her nipples, and pushed her breast upwards so he could capture it in his mouth. He suckled it, twirling his tongue around the hardened bud.
“Yes! That’s right, baby, keep fucking me, just like that,” she lauded, her other hand clenched in his hair. Her grip was biting, but he arched into it all the same.
Her moans were wild now, and Ace’s too. He’d completely forgotten how to breathe the second he entered her, and any attempts at relearning were accidental. His moan caught in his throat, and he wailed as Rouge’s walls squeezed him on every thrust.
“Oh, Ace!”
His name on her lips was orgasmic in itself. Rouge’s entire face was lit aflame, she was corrupted, and she knew it. Still, it did not stop her from continuing the cry. She repeated it, again and again, and every time it came from her lips, his thrusts quickened, and his moans bellowed throughout the quiet house.
“Mamá,” he echoed, loud and whining. Ace kissed her again.
He fucked her roughly, his inexperience getting the better of him. His skin stung from where it slapped against hers, and he could see red marks all over her from his pawing. She had a red handprint on her breast from where he’d clutched. Her dress had a large rip in the side from where he’d yanked it down, exposing her tits. Ace almost expected there to be a bruise on her cunt the next morning, if not that, then surely redness.
“Kiss me, kiss me properly,” Rouge demanded, and Ace wasted no time delivering it to her.
As he pressed his lips to hers, his orgasm rolled in his stomach, like water spilled from an over-filled cup. He was driven half-mad by the sheer intensity, it’s blindingly hot grip wrenching him dry, leaving him trembling and moaning. His cock throbbed as he spilled inside of her, his hips mindlessly still driving deeper and deeper, his balls flush to her cunt.
It took nearly the rest of what little strength he had left to not collapse on top of her right there. Breathing unevenly, his knees quivered, and his steps were unsure as he pulled his softening cock out. A string of come followed his retreat, dripping onto the edge of the counter, and then to the floor. Rouge’s cunt contracted with his withdrawal, and her hand came to capture the come with her fingers.
He bent his back, and laid is head on Rouge’s stomach, hands curling on her side. She pet his hair lovingly, like a mother would soothe a crying child, easing his lethargic disposition. Her wobbly breathing shook his head, and he turned to press a kiss to her abdomen.
Looking up at her, his chin resting on her, Rouge carressed his face, her thumb rubbing the freckles, and said, “You did good, dear. You did.”
“I love you,” he confessed, like he’d never said it before.
Her smile was ambivalent, but her words were true, “I love you too.”
They stilled in the silence, allowing it to rest over their tired bodies. It was too soon when Rouge was pulling away, lifting Ace’s head from her body, and straining to sit up. Ace followed her motions vigilantly, watching as she slipped from the counter, come smearing down her leg.
Her stance was as unsteady as his, but she did not falter. Righting her dress on her thighs; hoisting her tits back into her dress, she huffed, and ruffled her hair. The tear was gnarly, but she did not comment on it. Instead, she bent to pick her discarded panties off of the floor, and Ace couldn’t help but glance at her ass as she did. He pushed the urge down, his cock was still soft, he’d need more time before another round. Fisting them, she stopped to give Ace a quick peck on the cheek, one which Ace reached back to give her another on the lips, before she retreated.
“I should shower, and I need to change,” Rouge glanced at the oven’s clock, and then back to Ace. Her expression was guilt-ridden as she looked between the two. “I don’t think I can go in there, now. Will you do it for me, Ace?”
He swallowed thickly and pulled his briefs up. Yes. He would, for her sake.
“Of course, Mamá.”
Roger’s bedroom was dark. Even so, Ace could see his large form resting on the bed, and his IV sillouhetted against the wall. He flicked the lights on, bright and intruding, and saw how Roger flinched, his hand coming to cover his eyes.
“It’s time for your meds again,” Ace tried his hardest to sound normal. He couldn’t tell if his voice was too hard, or if it was too soft. There was smugness in his face, and he knew it would be impossible to conceal it completely. “I brought you a fresh drink, too.”
The pill bottle rattled in his hand, as he ventured closer to the bed. He placed the cup onto the bedside table, and twisted the cap open, before shaking two pills out into his open palm. Roger’s shoulder was facing him, and his expression was one that Ace had hardly seen on the man.
His response was delayed, but he held his hand out, waiting for Ace to drop the pills into it, “Thanks.”
“…Yeah,” Ace struggled. “Mamá made sure to remind me. Sorry if you were sleeping. Didn’t mean to disturb you.”
He shook his head and chest coughed loudly, his free hand covering his mouth, “I was awake. Say, is your mother still around?”
Pausing, Ace considered his options. He could easily lie, and say she’d gone already. He could be an asshole, and tell him the truth. He could still hear the shower if he tried. No, he wouldn’t do that. He found it much more thrilling as a secret. Though how private it really was, was still up in the air. They’d been loud, and if he were being hoenst with himself, Roger likely knew, if his dour attitude was anything to base from.
Ace reasoned that he’d stay quiet about it, unless his father would risk speaking his mind. He assumed his mother operated under the same understanding, though, it was up to her. He handed Roger his water.
“Nah, she left already. ‘S why I’m here. Plus, she counts your pills, she’d know if I lied.”
“Ah…” Roger trailed off, clearing his throat before responding again, “Right, that she does, son.”
“You okay? Need anything else?” he asked, unable to deny himself a little dose of haughty vulgarity. The suggestion was beneath his words, and he was well aware how Roger could hear it.
“No. What time is your mother coming back? Did she say?”
“Nah,” Ace repeated. “Didn’t say. Probably late, though. I wouldn’t wait up for her, you need your rest.”
“Right…”