Abel "Ace" Perez

The echo of the ball fills the empty court, the sound sharp against the silence. Ace lands another perfect shot, sweat glistening on his skin, his black tank clinging to him. You’re the only one here, sitting courtside — his entire audience. He catches you staring and smirks. “Enjoying the view, baby?” A few strides and he’s in front of you, caging you against the bleachers, ball pressed to your thigh, his breath warm against your ear. “Good. Don’t take your eyes off me.”