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Cages (ribs and otherwise)

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“No good?” Sabo murmured at the back of Ace's head. Untangling his fingers from the ribbons at hand, he smoothed one hand down the side of Ace's waist, the lovely line that was already developing. “Alright, let me loosen—”

“I didn't say—” Ace's voice was still a bit strained, but not like the shocked gasp from before. Sabo watched his chest heave, visibly lifting up and down a couple of times. “I didn't say that. You can keep going, just... Give me a moment you impatient bastard.”

With a happy little hum, Sabo started pulling on the ribbons from the bottom. He only fiddled at first, but when no protest came from Ace, he put some strength into it. Pulled taut one stretch of ribbon until the boning was aligned top to bottom. Moved up, repeated. Twirl the loose ends between his knuckles and fasten all the way.

The waistline became just a bit more prominent as the corset cinched over Ace's pelvis. Ace stuttered out another startled little breath.

“You look fucking gorgeous,” said Sabo, turning his attention back to the top laces. Through the gap between the two dark vermillion pieces, Sabo could see the caramel of Ace's skin. Caressed it softly with his gloved hands until Ace shivered. Tightened the black satin ribbon across the sensitized nerves. “Look at you, taking this so well.”

“You just like causing me pain,” Ace grunted. The way his hands dropped to quickly stroke the bodice though, spoke volumes more about his true feelings. And besides, Sabo could see in the lift of his chin how indulgent Ace wanted to be. So Sabo dipped his head, pressed an open-mouth kiss to Ace's neck. Let his tongue poke out right between his lips and stroke at skin. Ace inhaled deep and sharp, but bared his neck more.

“I do,” Sabo confessed, drawing the ribbon tighter at the center. It hurt him to hurt Ace, but frankly, that was the point. “You're mine, aren't you, when I tie you up like this? When you feel the strain of every breath—” Tighter. Ace's head falling back onto Sabo's shoulder with spit-shined parted lips. Pupils completely blown. “—when you let me hurt you, make things hard for you...”

They take a moment to chuckle breathlessly into each other's ears. Ace took both of Sabo's hands and wrapped them around his waist, smoothing over the material together. Then he took Sabo's hand lower, gliding the bottom edge of the corset, under which Ace only had on tight black shorts.

“Damn right you make things hard for me,” Ace said, the whole corset creaking when he thrusted his hips forward at Sabo's touch. Sabo though, reluctantly got back to the task at hand, fingers tangling back into the ribbons. Four inches in the gap. Then three.

“See? All mine,” Sabo said as he looped up the ribbons at the center of the waist and began knotting them together. Ace hasn't complained, could probably go a bit more, but Sabo had never been really good at pushing Ace (at least, not on the same source of pain, the way he can and wanted to push himself to endure ten, twenty, forty more hits). And Ace didn't get the same kind of enjoyment out of enduring like Sabo did anyways. So Sabo wrapped everything up nice and neat, and circled his arms back around Ace. He pressed all the way forward this time, until his front was flush with Ace's back, the black leather of his gloves gliding so smoothly over Ace's skin, then the red of the corset. “Nobody else's. Just mine.”

“...Oh, was that aimed at me yoi?”

“Did you hear someone say something Ace? 'Cause I didn't.”

“You know, if you'd tell me what I've done, I can apologize.”

Sabo grinded up on Ace's ass even harder, and stuck his tongue out at Marco, seated on the chair in the corner of the room. Marco, with a lift of an eyebrow, rattled the handcuff keeping him in place.

“Oh don't give him that, you haven't done anything Marco,” Ace said loudly with a roll of his eyes. He still sighed happily though, when Sabo got his hands around the new shape of Ace's waist and squeezed. “He's just too embarrassed to admit—”

The words broke off into a squeak when Sabo's grip tightened even more. Ace glared, and Sabo learned what slightly charred satin smelled like.

“Admit what?” Marco asked, amused. The handcuff wasn't even sea stone, but the drape of his wrist over it was still so martyred.

“He doesn't like that last time, when we did that scene with you and the chains and the water,” Ace continued to babble like the complete traitor he was. With a displeased little growl, Sabo buried his face in Ace's shoulder and held on tight. “You made him feel all sorts of feelings. So now he's gotta overcompensate by tying you up and ignoring you.”

“Oh.” A small furrow appeared in Marco's brow. And then he settled back in his chair. Crossed his legs. “Well, I'm sorry to hear that.”

Sabo waited, and waited, and waited. Then finally, when it was clear Marco really wasn't going to just snap the handcuff and get all up in Sabo's face and set things right, he none-too-gently slapped Ace's ass. Ace's snickering cut off to an offended, “hey!”

And then Ace rolled his eyes again.

“Sabo wants me to ask you—which he should really do himself, but he won't 'cause he's an idiot—what you're going to do about it.”

“Apologize, yoi,” Marco answered, still acting all stupidly sincere. “I know that these things we do aren't so easy to bear sometimes, and that's on top of the usual stresses of a relationship. So all I can really say is sorry Sabo, and if it upset you so much we won't do it again—”

“That is not what I meant and you know—”

Sabo bit down on his tongue, turning his head slowly back and forth between Marco and Ace's expressions, both of which were turning rapidly more smug, all hahah, we tricked you into talking to Marco. With a grunt of disgust (but mostly embarrassment) Sabo dropped his arms and stepped away from Ace.

Or—he tried to. Ace, considering he was laced into a brand-new corset, moved quite quickly to snatch Sabo by the cravat. He then walked Sabo backwards until Sabo was up against the wall, beside Marco.

“I brought you a present,” Sabo told Ace, affronted. “You were supposed to be on my side.”

“I am on your side,” Ace shot back. “Am I not trying to get us all laid tonight, despite your emotional constipation?”

Sabo squinted.

“Did putting on that corset... make you want to dom me?”

“No, you being foolish made me want to dom you,” Ace snapped. Then he glanced down in consideration. “I guess this didn't hurt. So to speak.”

“Well, you look—” Awesome. Drool-worthy. Like Sabo could lie Ace down, stroke him off, then clean up the mess on the corset with his tongue. “—regal.”

Ace's whole stance changed, and that's when Sabo knew he was fucking finished.

“Regal enough to put you on your knees?” The smirk of Ace's lips begged for a dark red lipstick, creamy to match his outfit. “You handcuffed Marco to that chair, you gotta help him out with the consequences.”

Sabo's knees were already on the ground. But he still couldn't help but mumble, “Marco could've gotten it off by himself.”

“Why would he need to get off by himself,” Ace asked with grinning teeth, “when your mouth is right there?”

From his new vantage point, Sabo could see the bottom of Ace's corset at eye level, and the black pants underneath in happy distension. On his other side was Marco, whose posture was now a lot less martyred and a lot more self-satisfied, the handcuff held out over the arm of the chair like a goddamn signet ring.

It was turn for Sabo's breath to catch.

“This really wasn't what I had in mind when I brought that corset,” he said, but parted his knees to shoulder width, straightened his posture, and assumed position.

“You're welcome,” Ace replied, hands happily tracing the new flare of his hips. “Now take off your clothes. Oh but—leave the gloves.”