TheAceofFlames

You had been such a flushed, nervous wreck, when you asked Thatch if you could take control, that it took him five minutes to be able to answer you. Not that he was complaining.

Then, or now.

Laid out on the bed, Thatch is shirtless, his arms up over his head, and your breasts in his face. You’re so small compared to him that you’re straddling his chest, struggling to get his wrists tied to the headboard.

“D-don’t,” you practically whimper the words when his breath rolls over your bare skin. You know he wants to use his mouth, but you’re trying your best to get the knots right. You don’t want him to slip free of the ropes, but you also don’t want to cut off circulation accidentally. “I need—Neeeeeed!” His tongue swipes over your nipple. “Ah, to, to concentrate.” You insist, shifting until you’ve smushed his face against the space between your breasts.

“Nawt complainin’,” he mutters against your skin, kissing the space he can reach softly.

“There,” you scoot back, hands on his chest, legs on either side of his waist, giving him an exaggerated pout. “Behave, Bear.” 

“Best nickname ever.” He says with a grin, crinkling his nose when you kiss the tip of it. “If behavin’ means not kissing you, Doll, I might be aimin’ to misbehave already.”

“Behaving means laying back and letting me do what I want.” You do your best to assert. “To you. So… stay.”

You’re so adorable he’s not sure what to do with himself, but he wants you to be satisfied by the end of this, so he relaxes into the bed, and gives you a smile.

“As you wish.” He hums, enjoying the way your flushed face blots your skin all the way down to the space between your breasts. 

Aside from a very mini skirt, you’re not wearing anything else. The two of you had been slowly, and carefully pulling clothes off one another for the better part of the evening after a light dinner. On nights where there weren’t any plans, or when Thatch didn’t have to be up early for the bakery, you took your time. Foreplay could last an hour, if not a little longer, and recently you’d both begun experimenting a little, bringing lingerie and sexy outfits into things.

You were more adventurous than he had expected, and he was certain that he was going to be looking up munches in the area soon. Or workshops for bondage, at this rate, at the very least.

When things were just about to really heat up, you’d asked him if you could be in charge. His brain had stopped working for a moment, and you’d worried you’d overstepped. It took a little bit to untangle it all, but now here he was, eyes barely able to stay focused as you pressed kisses into his skin, slowly working your way down his chest to his stomach.

The kisses were warm, a little dry. You were nervous, but each one felt so good, sending pleasant shivers into Thatch’s spine. The light touch of your fingers tickled a little, but he was strong enough to endure a little unintentional tickling.

When your fingers started tugging at the waistband of his pants he nearly short circuited again. It only took him a second to lift his hips, doing what he could to help as you tug his pants down to his thighs.

Kissing up his legs, he was hard by the time you got back to his hips. Flushed and full mast, he couldn’t help the rush of blood into his own face, cock twitching as your fingers and kisses moved around it. He’d certainly teased you enough before now that he didn’t have any room to complain, but it didn’t stop him from letting soft moans and hisses pass his lips when you drew closer.

“You always stop me.” You say, putting a hand around his shaft. “But you say you’re okay with it, so you can’t stop me this time.” 

The way you’re so resolved is cute, but also he’s about to bust as it is.

That sweet pink tongue slips passed your lips and along his tip and he whimpers.

Gods above and below it feel so good. Your fingers twitch against his length and you lick again, a little heavier, a little longer. Saliva slicks his tip and you kiss against the throbbing head and he’s already wondering which is more likely to break, the ropes or the headboard.

“D-Doll,” his voice is coarse, and you’ve only just started.

“Stay,” you command again, leaning down and taking his tip into your mouth.

Thatch is adamant to not swear around you. Not the ways he would around his brothers at least. He doesn’t mean to treat you like a child or anything, but you’re so sweet and he just wants to be a gentleman for you. But when your head bobs down on his length the second time you press your tongue against the back of his cock and he can’t keep the word contained between his teeth.

“Ffff—uck.” He tries to snap it off in his throat, but he’s going to lose his mind. 

Soft, wet, and incredibly warm. Your tongue licks again and your fingers work spit further down before you go down again and his fingernails are digging into his palms. The only reason he hadn’t ever let you give him head before was because he knew he wasn’t going to last. Just thinking about it was enough to get him to cum when he was jerking himself off, and the real thing was way better than his imagination.

“You like how I taste, Thatch.” You say sweetly and all he can do is whimper openly this time. “I want to know.”

Desperate to think of anything to distract himself, various images and people scroll through his thoughts, but you moan against him when you go down again and he can’t see anything except the crystal clear view he has right now.

You’re holding his cock in your hands, coming up from just barely past the tip, before you lean down and lick all the way up the length, eyes finding his in the soft light of the bedroom. Blood rushes to his face so fast its dizzying, and into his cock so fast he’s actually cold for a split second before it evens out.

“Please,” you make the request despite being in charge right now, and when your mouth consumes him again he can’t take it anymore.

“Kuh-cumming!” He gasps. “I’m cumming Doll, don’t—don’t-.”

You go deeper, taking even more of him in at his words, and his voice stutters. He can feel you start to gag and he can’t do anything about it because he’s already emptying into your mouth. You pull back a bit, a mix of surprise and satisfaction, swallowing against his tip and making his legs twitch from the extra stimulation.

“Sweet gods,” he husks, while you start stroking his shaft with your hand, urging more out of him. “Doll, Doll, pluh-please…”

Lifting your head up, his cock releasing from your lips with a soft pop, you look up at him with a confused expression for a moment. When you lick your lips, Thatch is worried he’s going to cum a second time and cover your face.

Laying back, he gives himself a break by staring at the ceiling. 

“I did good,” you say, half statement, half question, and Thatch chuckles.

“Yeah, Doll, you did great.” 

“Then, I can ride you.” You assert.

“Bwah-huh?” Thatch’s brain can’t keep up. 

“I’m in charge, and I’m doing good, so I’m going to keep going.” You hum, kissing his soft length and watching it twitch.

“S-sure Doll,” he agrees, wondering how he’ll survive this.

“Good Boy,” you say, and watch Thatch go rock hard again.

“Ohmygod.” His head is turned to the side, tucked into his arm. 

You kiss the tip before moving off the bed to get some lube. “I think it’s cute.” 

“The things you learn about yourself when you let your wife do as she wants.” Thatch mutters, smiling at you as you get back on the bed. The title makes you blush. You’d gone through a lot to end up together.

Given all you’d gone through, you were proud of yourself to even ask to take control, let alone how much you were enjoying it.

“It’s going to be cold, I’m sorry.”

“S’alright, Doll.” 

The cool lube was what Thatch needed right now, something to ease the tension in his guts. He often spent most of the night taking you apart with his mouth and hands, because he’d needed time to recover from cumming in his pants before he could go any further. All the sounds you made, the way you smelled, the fact that he was the luckiest man in the world to get matched with you, it was too much.

“I can’t get my fingers as deep as you can,” you say quietly, so quietly Thatch isn’t sure he was supposed to hear you, so he doesn’t react to your words.

Just to the sight of you working lube into your pretty pussy. 

He might have to ask you to do that more often. Maybe ask you to masturbate for him. He wonders if you could do something like that, you’re usually so painfully shy he’s impressed you’re going this far right now.

You’re short enough, and he’s wide enough in the hips, that you can’t easily straddle him, so you end up settling above his cock, shifting back until your slicked heat nudges against his length. Once you know where he is, you reach back and start to line him up.

Feeling it all, without being able to see, watching you work, and having your breasts press against his stomach while you struggle to reach is enough to have him nearly biting through his lip. Once you get the tip in, you moan against him, and he could nearly sob. There’s been no greater battle of wills in his life as far as he’s concerned.

It takes a little work, but you get enough of him inside you that you can sit up, steadying your hands against his stomach. It’s taut, he’s flexing to support you, and your feet are braced against his thighs, giving you better leverage than if you tried to push off the mattress. When you get a little more in you lean back, taking your weight off his stomach and bracing against your own legs. 

It gave Thatch an incredible view. The miniskirt was hiked up and covering nothing, his length was disappearing into your pussy. You were leaned back to reach your calves, giving yourself leverage as you tried to slowly work more of him inside. It left your breasts to shift and tremble with every shivering breath and shaky motion.

Sweet sounds were tumbling down your lips, punctuated by a slight furrowing of your brows as you struggled to take him. Thatch had you a sloppy, prepped mess by the time he’d enter you, and a little lube wasn’t enough to make up for that difference.

But it still felt good to you, and divine to Thatch.

He wanted to thrust up into you. He wanted to pin you to the bed and take you. He wanted to put his thick fingers deep inside you and turn you into a squirming mess of at least three orgasms before he did anything more.

He wanted to be in control, and it was maddening as you sunk deeper and deeper onto him. It was going to be a miracle if he didn’t cum again before you managed to take him all the way in. It felt incredible. He needed to cum a time or two more himself before he could survive a hell this sweet.

The ropes snapped and Thatch didn’t even realize he was flexing against it so hard. 

“Sorry, Doll!” He apologizes even as he sits up, hands wrapping around you to steady you during the shift. 

A hand at your back, his lips against yours, his other hand against your ass, gripping the curve of it firmly and carefully. When he breaks the kiss he leans you back, his mouth on your breasts, lips and tongue licking and teasing your nipples, causing you to cry out and gasp from the pleasure, wriggling against the length inside you without sinking any deeper. 

The pleasure is sweet, the euphoria floods in, and your fingers are digging into his arms as you cum from his lips at your breast and his cock barely halfway inside.

“Th-aaaah-ch,” you cry his name, broken by the sweet pleasure, and he whispers an apology in your ear again before he lifts you up ever so slightly, before guiding you back down. The sensation of being stretched after orgasming like that is strange, and delicious.

You’re trembling, caught between overstimulation and a hungry desire for more. He guides you, helping you ride him, sighing by your ear as you sink all the way down, the quiet moment where neither of you move. 

His hands shift until he’s got one on your thigh, his thumb teasing your clit, the other at the back of your head, steadying you while he leans you back just enough to be able to kiss you and watch your sweet face while he helps you ride him. Or makes you ride him. You have no leverage anymore, but you’re not scared. You know you’re safe in his arms, and when tears pool in your eyes it’s because the pleasure is overwhelming, not because you’re scared or angry. 

When he cums inside you the twitch and pulse of his cock is enough to push you over the edge. Sweet, satisfying, and deep. Warm, soft kisses press against your lips, the quiet murmurs of apology lingering between you, as Thatch carries you both through the afterglow of the shared orgasm.

Moments after, you’re laying against his chest, both of you taking a few moments to collect yourselves before deciding what to do next. Be it another round, or getting cleaned up and snuggling.

“Hm…” You’re trying to decide what you can do to keep Thatch contained next time. The rope snapped so easily, you’re pretty sure the headboard wouldn’t be able to stop him either, if he gets riled up like that again.

“What’s on your mind, Doll?”

“… I’m wondering if any of your brothers can help.” 

“… help?” He doesn’t want to dissuade you from any ideas, but he’s not sure what you mean right now.

Lifting yourself up to look into his eyes you puff your cheeks in an exaggerated pout. “You broke the ropes. Maybe one of your brothers knows what we can do to keep you tied up better.”

“Doll… please don’t ask my brothers for help with this.” Thatch is near to tears. “We—I can ask Izou about some knots maybe—,”

“You broke the rope.” You huff.

“…I can ask about steel shackles.”  He offers, sounding truly apologetic.

“You’ll break the bed.”

“Hey man, watch it, you almost popped her in the face.” He says, a lot more snarl in his voice when he was talking to the other commuter vs when he spoke to you. The small verbal scuffle between them is brief, the other guy probably deciding he didn’t want to try his luck with a dude covered in tattoos and standing tall enough he barely fit on the train.

“Thank you.” You say quietly, looking up at him. He gives you a smile and a wink, and you spend the rest of the ride in silence.

The two of you get off at the next stop together and there’s an odd bit of awkwardness before there’s some space between you. His stride is a lot longer than yours, and he’s up the stairs and gone before you can work up the nerve to say another thanks. You were on your way to a blind date a friend had set up, and you didn’t want to be late, but you didn’t want to be early either, so you took your time up the steps.

You didn’t know who your date was, but the man in the train, tall with his tattoos, wearing leather with a dozen or more pins and patches on it, all spikes and metal and kindness was still on your mind. If you had been anything but painfully shy you probably would’ve asked him for his phone number.

If you had been anything other than painfully shy you wouldn’t need your friend to play match maker for you. But she promised that this guy was almost as shy as you, and quiet more than loud. She did warn that he might look scary, but the looks were for you to decide if you liked anyway.

The only thing Hip gave you, was a number to text when you got there. If you chickened out he wouldn’t have YOUR number, and he wouldn’t know what you looked like, so you wouldn’t have to feel bad.

“I’ll be a couple blocks away, if you really need someone to come rescue you, I’ll accidentally drop by.” She had promised.

You make it to the little bookstore café you were supposed to meet at, and then start to panic. You didn’t know what to text. 

Hi, I’m here, who are you?

What do you look like?

Did you send a picture of yourself?

“Oh hey,” You look up at the familiar sounding voice, and see the pale-blue hair leather and metal guy who had saved you on the train. “You alright?”

He has the door open for you and you step in, looking back at him while you explain your plight.

“Y-yeah, I’m supposed to meet someone and I don’t know what to text.” You admit as he sets a fresh cup of coffee down before pulling out his phone. “Everything I can think of feels so awkward.”

“Nothing wrong with bein’ awkward.” He says reassuringly. “Why don’t you send a text like ‘I’m here next to a tall guy in leather and dreads, come find me’. I’ll keep you company until they find you.”

“Oh, thank you. I’m really nervous too, but I won’t have to worry about them with someone kind like you here.”

“Aww, thanks.” 

You type up the text, and send it. 

The phone in his hand dings and you look over at him. There’s a sheepish smile on his face, before he turns it around to face you so you can read it.

Unknown: I’m standing next to a tall guy in leather and spikes, he’s hard to miss, but I’m here.

You can feel the heat rushing up to your face as realization dawns.

“Oh hey, I found you.” He says, tucking his phone back into his pocket. “I had hoped it was you, when you said something about texting, I swear I didn’t know for sure until my phone dinged.”

You look up at him, face getting hotter, and finally just cover your face with your hands, making a quiet embarrassed groan as everything hits you.

“Oh? Something new, hm? Alright,” you said with a giggle. Something new meant something fun - nipple clamps or anal plugs or being bound in a new way. You were game for all of it, you felt safe with Thatch and trusted his judgement. Thatch picked you off his lap and set you down on the couch, making you pout. 

“Ha, don’t worry. I won’t be gone long,” Thatch said, blowing you a kiss. You weren’t being too bratty yet, you didn’t think he was going to punish you for that. Thatch left his cabin, his massive erection pushing against the fabric of his pants. He was gone for less than a minute before he reappeared with a large freestanding mirror. Your brow furrowed and you frowned as you looked over the mirror. Thatch set it down facing the couch and plopped back down next to you.

“C’mere, I wanna show you something,” he purred at you, pulling you back into his lap. This time he had you facing the mirror as he began rolling your nipples in his large fingers. You turned your head to the side, ignoring the image in front of you completely.

“No, I want you to watch yourself in the mirror,” he chided, his hand grabbing your jaw and turning your head to face the reflection.

“Well, I don’t,” you stated flatly, twisting your head to look at the side of his cabin. “I don’t like this. Can you take it away? I wanna keep going but I don’t wanna look at…all that,” you said with a curl of your lip, waving your hand in the direction of the mirror. You didn’t want to use your safe word but if he wanted you to watch yourself you would. You saw Thatch give you a sad look from the corner of your eye. He turned you around so you were facing his front and away from the mirror.

“You don’t want to watch me?” he asked with hurt in his voice, a finger stroking down your cheek.

“What? No, no! I love looking at you, it’s not that. You’re the most attractive person I’ve ever been with, I can’t get enough of you. I don’t want to watch myself,” you said, disgust tinging the last word. You would never want Thatch to think he wasn’t incredible in every way, the thought that you’d hurt his feelings had you changing your tune immediately.  Thatch frowned and cupped your face in his hands, completely engulfing your cheeks in a tender caress. You tried to pull away again, this was getting a little too emotional for you. But Thatch’s gaze and hands didn’t waver and didn’t let you recede either.

“That’s…sad. We won’t do this if you don’t want to - I’ll put the mirror away. But it makes me upset to think you don’t see yourself like I do. I’m going to turn you around but we’re not going to fool around or have sex, OK? Please?” Thatch asked softly, finishing with a chaste kiss to your lips. You were still frowning but gave a small nod. Thatch turned you around so that you were both facing the mirror again but this time you used your hands to cover your breasts. It felt too raw to be emotionally open and naked at the same time.

“Do you know what I see?” Thatch asked, leaning his chin on your shoulder. You closed your eyes while he was waiting for your answer. He nuzzled into your neck, so close his stubble was rubbing your sensitive neck. 

“Look, just for a moment. See what I see,” Thatch whispered imploringly, his arms wrapping around your middle to pull you flush against his hairy chest. You leaned your head back against him seeking the warm comfort of his embrace. Protection, really, against the harsh reality of what you saw in the mirror. You cracked open your eyes to see your sweet, caring boyfriend and the all too familiar image of yourself in the mirror. After tucking your hair behind your ear, Thatch starts to speak.

“I see someone wholly, completely, and utterly wonderful. I see someone who is the best thing that’s come into my life since I set sail with Whitebeard decades ago. I see someone who isn’t perfect  - you’ve lived a life like anyone else. You have your flaws and your quirks but that doesn’t make you anything but human. You’re not perfect but you're perfect for me,” Thatch said softly, rubbing your sides. You were crying a little bit, your chin wobbling as Thatch soothed your turbulent feelings. Still, you held the image of Thatch comforting you in your eyes as he continued.

“Ace was annoying Marco the other day on deck asking if Marco would love him if he was a worm. I didn’t even have to think for a second. I’d love you if you were a worm, if you were a spider, if you lost a limb, if your tits hung to the floor, I wouldn’t care. None of that matters. What matters is you. Your body is only one part of you, and I love it too. But there's so much more I love about you. I love your smile, your attitude, your morning breath, your intelligence, your sense of humor," he continued, kissing your temple. Now you were truly crying, your tears running down your cheeks. 

“Do you know why?” Thatch asked, kissing away a tear. You shook your head, unsure if your voice would hold for words.

“Because I love you,” he said simply, turning your face to his with one of his hands. 

“Even like th-iis?” you said, voice cracking. You were sure you looked a mess, you’d been told you were an ugly crier as a child and it had always been another insecurity.

“Like this,” he confirmed without hesitation. You uncovered your breasts and turned halfway in his lap so you were facing him.

“I love you too,” you said, looking into his eyes. Leaning forward, you grabbed his shoulders to pull him towards you, kissing him with everything in your soul.

~~~ Later~~~

Reader: So, would you love Ace if he was a worm? 🧐🧐🧐

Thatch: Absolutely not. I’d feed him to Marco. (he wouldn't).

Izou crushes the results delicately between his fingers, turning the paper into a crumpled ball before looking down at you.

“Open.” He commands, and you open your mouth.

Your arms are tied behind your back, and a delicate network of ropes hug your skin in floral patterns. Izou has already spent hours with you, tying you into the decorative shibari. He caught wind of you and Thatch’s plans to “prank” him and ended up several steps ahead of the both of you.

Slick from between your thighs has already stained the ropes down your legs, and your ass was already red because of it. Izou had said that a little brat like you had no place enjoying being tied up, and since you obviously were enjoying it, he needed to correct that. But the spanking only made you mewl more whorishly, so then he purposefully edged you while finishing the rest of the tie.

Your face was puffy and swollen, stained from tears after begging to be allowed to cum, but Izou was not one who bent to others.

“Drop it and I’ll ask Marco to edge you for the next five days.” He explains, his fingers keeping your mouth open. “And if you close your lips, it’ll be worse, my darling little flower. Do you understand?”

You nod your head. Izou walks you over to the large, heavy, dining table in the mess hall that Thatch is currently tied down to. The large man is covered in splatters of dried wax, soft red welts on the insides of his thighs from Izou’s hand - earned because he came without permission while Izou had held your head down onto his pubes, forcing you to deep throat him.

The prank you had in mind wasn’t even that bad, and was truly harmless, but Izou said it didn’t matter. The fact was you’d both agreed to prank him at all, and as your dom he wasn’t going to stand for it. This was a lesson he wanted to be sure you learned exceptionally well.

All six hours before the results of the poll were even handed to him.

Izou helps you up onto the table, steadying you as you straddle Thatch. The big cook whimpers when your wet pussy settles against his cock.

“Once you get all of him inside you,” Izou says, still helping you as you coat Thatch’s cock in your slick. “Stay still.”

“’Ock warh-ing?” You question awkwardly, trying to neither crush the paper ball in your mouth, nor drop it.

“Sure, cock warming, we’ll go with that.” Izou agrees, and Thatch groans.

It barely takes a minute for Thatch to be fully erect beneath you, and just a moment after that for you to work yourself down onto his length. As Izou’s beautiful little flowers, you and Thatch were used to being tangled up in one another in all sorts of ways, but it didn’t make Thatch’s impressive girth any smaller. The sweet stretch almost makes you moan, but you beat the pleasurable sound down.

Izou moves around you easily once you’re in place. He ties your ankles to Thatch’s thighs so that there’s almost no way for you to get off the cook’s cock on your own. After that he puts clamps on your nipples, and Thatchs’, connecting the clips with thin ropes. The tension forces you to lean forward a little, pressing your throbbing and needy clit into Thatch’s rough patch.

The incessant twinge of pain from the clamps is making you even more aware of Thatch’s cock twitching inside your stuff cunt.

“Perfect.” He hums, the ropes and table creaking a little when Thatch shifts a bit to relieve some of the tension building in his muscles. Izou himself was careful not to push either of you too far, and he was skilled at getting you out of predicaments very quickly.

But there was also nothing on the ship that could easily hold Thatch, either, so he was effectively a second layer of safety in the group. Not that anyone wanted to break the bench style table, but if it was a matter of it or your safety, Thatch wouldn’t hesitate.

Izou moves until he’s knelt behind you, settled between Thatch’s spread legs.

“The rules are simple. Whoever cums first will spend the rest of the week being edged and denied.” He explains simply. “I’ll press the whole ship into service if I need to, so accept your fate.” He adds icily, and you and Thatch don’t doubt his words.

“The one who holds out will be treated sweetly for the rest of the week, no matter what they do to the loser, so keep that in mind too.” He hums, walking his fingers lightly up Thatch’s legs until he reaches the soles of your feet.

You tense at the light touch, trying not to jerk. If you buck too much you’ll tug at you and Thatch’s nipples. Thatch can’t hurt you accidentally, he’s too well secured to the table. You’re only well secured to Thatch.

The crumpled paper against your tongue reminds you not to close your mouth as Izou’s fingers dance against your feet. The soft tingle builds and turns more and more into a ticklish sensation - a sensation that makes your body tense, and causes your pussy to clench against Thatch’s cock.

Thatch groans, understanding sinking in as you start to twitch and shiver.

“Ari,” you squeak, trying to apologize to Thatch without being able to speak properly. “Ari!” You gasp the odd apology, as Izou really begins to tickle your feet, making you clench and jerk. You can’t even babble the broken ‘sorry’ from your lips as the laughter bubbles up in your chest.

If you laugh you might drop the paper, or close your mouth, so instead you end up whimpering and gasping. Squeaky pleas for mercy replace the broken sorries falling from your tongue. The first time Izou grabs your waist you jerk and pull on the clamps, making Thatch buck. His hips push him deeper inside of you, grinding against your clit.

You can’t scream, or laugh, you’ll drop the paper, but your body can’t contain the ticklish touch of Izou’s deft fingers, and so your body jerks, wiggles and and rides Thatch’s cock. Every pleasure bites into both of you, but you’re the only one getting tickled.

Thatch is ticklish, you know he is, you’ve seen Marco lock him down while Izou tickles him to tears, but if Izou tickles Thatch he could accidentally break the table. It starts to drive you so crazy you lean forward and start grinding into Thatch.

You aren’t trying to get him off, but if you cum it’ll end the tickling from Izou. Your face is a mess, desperate and dripping tears and drool, and the sounds coming from you are a mix of whimpers from the tickling, and moans from the building pleasure.

You’re a mess on Thatch’s cock, desperate and horny, and he can’t take it. He starts matching your erratic movements as best as he can, bucking his hips up into you as you come down on him, grinding into your clit and bracing against the table to ground himself a little.

“Maybe if you lose, sweet flower,” Izou purrs, not too worried about whether or not you can hear him, but knowing Thatch won’t miss his words. “I’ll put you in a nice rope dress to keep you honest. You’d enjoy it, showing it off to the others, wouldn’t you? Letting Thatch inspect the knots during lulls in the kitchen.”

Izou’s gaze catches Thatch’s just before he puts a bruising kiss on your shoulder, making you cry out in surprise, shivering against Thatch’s cock from the sudden shift in sensations. He goes back to tickling you before you can recover, fingers dancing easily over your skin and the network of ropes.

“I’d love to put you on display on the main mast,” Izou purrs, taking a moment as you screech from the renewed tickling, whimpering as you nearly drop the paper ball. “Letting everyone look at you.”

Thatch’s face goes an impressive shade of red as his head falls back and he starts thrusting up into you so much that you’re forced to ride his cock from the action. Izou stops tickling you, keeping you steady inside as Thatch fucks you from his limited position.

You’ve got the paper ball caught delicately between your teeth, panting heavily around it, catching your breath from all the laughing. Izou’s impressed. He wants to mess you up, crush the ball between your teeth and make you cum until you’re sobbing from repeated orgasms, and he might just do that to you tomorrow.

Since Thatch is currently cumming inside you with the deepest rumbled growl of relief Izou’s heard from him in a long time. His entire body goes slack against the table as the afterglow sinks into his muscles. He’s going to have a rough few days ahead of him, but Izou will show Thatch mercy if his orgasm ban starts to affect his duties as division commander.

Bedroom delights are meant to stay in the bedroom, after all.

And maybe, occasionally, on one of the mess hall tables.