Aria's Pov
"Do you want me to kiss you?" he asked, voice so calm it made me trip over my tongue.
My brain short-circuited. "Wh—you—did you—huh?!"
He leaned a little closer, tilting his head the other way, the firelight soft against his skin. "I said… do you want me to kiss you?"
I froze. I stared at him, at that faint smile tugging at his lips, at the steady heat radiating from his body. My heart was punching my ribs like it owed it money.
And then I nodded. The tiniest, most cowardly nod in human history.
Ace laughed under his breath, a quiet huff that made my skin prickle. "Now you're shy," he teased.
Before I could combust on the spot, he leaned in and kissed me.
It was slow, careful at first, like he was testing the waters. His lips were warm—no, hot, like they carried his fire even without flame. I let out a stupid little noise, part surprise, part relief, and he deepened it, his hand cupping the back of my head. My arms moved on their own, clutching at his shoulders, tugging him closer.
One kiss turned into two, then three, and then we were tangled, mouths moving with growing hunger, my body pressed to his. Heat coiled low in my stomach, sharp and dizzying, and before I knew it, he was guiding me down to the blanket spread near the fire.
His lips trailed from my mouth to my jaw, down the curve of my throat. Each kiss burned, a molten brand, and I arched helplessly when he lingered at my collarbone, sucking gently, then lower, tugging my shirt up and off before I could think.
"Relax," he murmured when I stiffened. His voice was low, amused, but careful. "Just relax."
My chaos brain was screaming—Ace has his mouth on your boobs, don't you dare die right now—but my body? My body melted. His lips wrapped around my nipple, tongue flicking, sucking, sending jolts down my spine. My back arched off the blanket, a moan slipping out before I could think to strangle it.
He took his time, moving lower. Kisses over my stomach, around my navel, each one slower than the last until I was squirming. When he hooked his fingers into my pants, tugging them down, I let out a strangled laugh.
He glanced up, smirk tugging his lips. "Don't tell me you're nervous now."
I was. I absolutely was. But the second his mouth replaced his fingers, hot tongue sliding over my folds, all coherent thought flew into the sea.
I gasped, hips jerking, and his hands pressed my thighs down firmly. "Easy," he murmured against me, his breath searing. "Let me take care of you."
Oh, and take care of me he did. Slow, deliberate licks, tongue curling just right, his mouth sucking gently on my clit until I was a shaking, whimpering mess. He slipped a finger in, then two, pumping them carefully as he ate me out, building pressure until I thought I'd burst.
When I did, it was like the tide crashing, overwhelming and endless. I cried out, clutching at the blanket, thighs trembling around his head. He didn't stop. Not even when I gasped, "Ace, wait, I—too much—"
He hummed like he hadn't heard, tongue working me mercilessly until a second orgasm tore through me, harder than the first. My vision blurred, body going limp, chest heaving.
Through the haze, I saw him lift his head, chin slick, eyes dark and unreadable. He tugged his pants loose, his cock thick and flushed as he stroked it slowly, gaze locked on me. My mouth went dry. My brain went poof.
"Holy shit," I whispered, half-dazed.
When I reached for him, wanting to feel him, wanting to at least do something, he caught my wrist and pressed it back to the blanket. "Just lay back," he said softly.
And then he was lining himself up, pressing forward. My breath caught as he pushed in—slow, so slow, stretching me inch by inch until I thought I'd split apart. He paused once he was fully sheathed, forehead resting against mine, breath ragged.
"You're so tight," he murmured, voice rough. "Relax for me."
I tried. Really, I tried, but I clenched around him anyway, body reacting on its own. He groaned, deep and low, then pulled back and sank in again.
The pace was slow at first, steady, deep thrusts that made me arch with every roll of his hips. His thumb circled my clit, easy and unhurried, driving me higher and higher. Sometimes he'd speed up suddenly, sharp thrusts that had me gasping, then slow down again, teasing, keeping me right on the edge.
"Feels good?" he asked softly, eyes locked on mine.
All I could do was nod, breathless.
When I came again, it was with a sharp cry, my body clenching around him, trying to drag him over the edge.
He drove into me harder, chasing his own release, and with a final thrust, he came, warmth spilling deep inside me. His whole body shuddered against mine, his groans muffled into my skin as he rode it out, thrusting shallowly until he was spent.
We collapsed together, chests heaving, skin slick with sweat and heat. He pulled out carefully, almost reluctantly, and laid beside me, pulling me against his chest like it was the most natural thing in the world.
His lips pressed a soft kiss to my neck. "Goodnight," he muttered, voice rough, sleepy.
And then—just like that—he was out.
Meanwhile me? I was staring at the fire, brain completely fried, body boneless, thinking of how I'd never again try to find my way home if I could have this forever.
I thought of it for a bit before realizing I couldn't writer Ace smut any other way than slow and intimate. That's just how I feel he'll be. If you disagree, leave it in the comments.