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No one celebrates a one-month anniversary. Heero does not know a lot about dating, or relationships of any kind, but he knows this. He had known immediately from the wide-eyed, bewildered look Duo gave him when Heero first broached the subject, that he had made a grave mistake.
“I—I don’t need anything special,” Duo stammered, face heated with blush. “Heero, it’s only been a month…”
Duo blushes so easily these days, and so often. The color rises like cream to the pallor of his skin, splashed like rosewater against the soft curve of his cheek. Were it not such a beautiful image, it would almost make Heero feel guilty, to think that he distresses Duo so. But over time, he’d come to understand that the newness of their fledgling relationship simply brought out a softer side to him. The confident, brash, easygoing persona that Duo affects around others melts away when they’re alone, and reveals in its place a shy, blushing maiden. Or, at least, something like one.
“Nothing?” Heero had asked. He drew Duo close, and then let his hand slip into the silken veil of Duo’s unbound hair, sifting the strands between his fingers. “Are you sure?”
The heated touch made Duo’s breath hitch, but he only shook his head, a subtle gesture that made the fall of his fringe dust his small nose. “It’s fine,” he managed to get out. “Really. I mean it.” Duo looked up at him almost shyly then, like a nervous fawn, and at that Heero really did begin to feel the guilt settling in his stomach. As much as he liked to see Duo blush, Heero never would have brought this up if he thought it would make Duo so uncomfortable.
It hit him, then, that Duo was probably hesitant to relive the memory of their first time. Though the arrival of Duo’s heat had been marked with stress and uncertainty for them both, it’s a night that Heero looks back on fondly. How could he not? It was the first time Heero had kissed Duo, the first time he’d made love to him. It was the first time Duo had told him I love you. How could Heero feel anything but warmth at the memory of when Duo first became his?
In all this time, Heero hadn’t stopped to consider that Duo may not share those same fond feelings. Though they’d been intimate plenty of times since, and Duo had been perfectly pliant and more than enthusiastic then, nothing had come close to the intensity of their first time together. Heero still remembers how small Duo had looked then, how vulnerable and scared he’d seemed lying beneath him. Heero feels like a fool for not noticing it sooner; of course, Duo wouldn’t want to commemorate such a painful memory.
So he’d dropped a kiss to the top of Duo’s head, and told him not to worry about it. But Duo had remained unusually quiet for the rest of the evening, so Heero doubted that his words had the reassuring effect he’d intended. This wasn’t anything too unusual; Heero still isn’t the best at expressing his affection, and these days it’s getting harder and harder for him to parse what Duo is thinking. But it still worries him, somehow.
Heero doesn’t want obsess over Duo, even if he is obsessed, just a little. He’s always been rather… intense, when it comes to his commitments, but where it concerns Duo, he’s been trying to rein himself in. So as much as Heero wants to dip into his savings and spoil Duo to his heart’s content, he knows that he can’t. What Heero has with Duo is far too new, and far too fragile to risk scaring him away, not after Heero’s spent so long yearning to have him.
Still, Heero can’t let the day go by totally unacknowledged, even if larger celebrations are out of the question, so he settles on something small. Duo doesn’t seem to care much for jewelry; he doesn’t even wear his cross necklace anymore, though he still keeps it carefully tucked away in the drawer of his nightstand. But Duo has always been fond of his long hair, so Heero picks out a pretty gold hairpin, winking with pearl studs, and hopes that Duo won’t kill him for it.
Heero could just give it to him later. After all, Duo had been clear, even in that subtle, understated way of his, that he did not want to celebrate their anniversary.
Which is why, upon Heero’s return to their apartment, he’s shocked at the sight of Duo bustling around their small kitchen, busy as a bee. But that’s hardly the shocking part; what stops Heero dead in his tracks is what his lover is wearing.
At present, Duo is dressed in little more than a silk negligee, a soft, peach pink in color, with lace trim that skims his upper thigh. A sheer robe hangs from his narrow shoulders, flaring behind him each time he spins on his tiptoes, barefooted. And when he bends at the waist to peek through the glass oven door, his lovely braided hair drapes forward over his exposed thigh, fastened at the end with a soft, pink ribbon, tied in a perfect bow.
For a moment, Heero sincerely believes that he’s hallucinating. That this is just another fantasy he’s allowed himself to entertain beyond sensible limits. Surely, this cannot be his Duo, the one who adamantly eschews anything frilly or pink, who has firmly refused, time and time again, to conform to what’s expected of an omega. But what firmly separates this moment from Heero’s fantasies is the smell—the warm, flavorful aroma of whatever Duo’s watching in the oven, and the sweet, enchanting scent of lavender, milk, and honey.
Duo may look like a vision, but he’s all real. All real, and all Heero’s.
His Duo, who is so thoroughly absorbed in his task, like a dutiful housewife, that he still hasn’t noticed Heero come in. Only when Heero lets the door slip shut behind him does Duo startle and whirl around to face him, eyes wide and faintly horrified.
They stare at each other for a moment, stunned silence stretching on between them. Duo looks like he’s ready to bolt, wide-eyed and bristling under Heero’s intent gaze. Duo’s spiking fear only makes his inviting scent that much more potent, and Heero has to consciously fight the instinct that goads him to pin Duo down and take him, right here on the kitchen counter.
But Duo composes himself before he can get the nerve, clearing his throat as he pads over to Heero with featherlight steps. And then, once he’s bridged the gap, Duo rests a tentative hand on Heero’s chest and balances on his tiptoes, leaning up to press a chaste kiss to Heero’s cheek.
“Welcome home,” Duo says softly when he pulls away, lavender gaze darting to the side and cheeks heated with blush.
Were Heero a weaker man, he surely would not survive this. And though he has no idea what he’s done to deserve it, he’s certainly not about to question a gift like this one.
“It’s good to be home,” Heero rasps, his voice nearly shaking with desperation. He slips a hand around Duo’s waist, fingers twisting in the soft fabric, then leans in and kisses him on the mouth.
It makes Duo gasp, a soft, startled sound, and it’s cute. He’s so cute and pretty and perfect, everything about him, always, but especially like this, wearing this soft slip of a thing, like a delicate doll. Heero kisses him deeper, claiming Duo’s small, wet mouth with his own, and Duo yields to it, softening his lips, snaking his slim arms around Heero’s neck, and melting in Heero’s embrace.
It’s Heero who pulls away first, not because he particularly wants to, but because he’s half certain Duo will let himself faint before drawing back for air. Besides that, though, Heero loves seeing Duo like this. The way he gasps for breath, the fluttering rise and fall of his chest, like a songbird’s. So flustered and responsive and beautiful. Duo is a dream, one from which Heero hopes he will never wake.
“...you’re home early,” Duo huffs under his breath. He looks irritated, somehow, or maybe he’s just embarrassed. Heero isn’t sure which he finds more alluring.
“Should I come back later?” Heero teases, making Duo scoff. He reaches out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind Duo’s ear, and there’s a surprise there too. He’s wearing earrings, a touch of gold glinting at his earlobe with a little pearl dangling just below it. Heero didn’t know Duo ever wore earrings; maybe jewels aren’t such a bad gift after all.
“Nah,” Duo sighs, but he still kind of looks like he wants to take Heero up on the offer. “It’s fine, I just… wanted everything to be ready when you got back…”
A rare smile tugs at Heero’s lips, soft and indulgent. “Is that so?” he asks, hand lingering in Duo’s fine hair. The strands catch on the ridges of his fingertips, delicate, like threads of spun silk. “Are we celebrating?”
Duo gives him an incredulous look. “You’re the one who said you wanted to!” he huffs, looking put-out. “I mean, I wanted to surprise you, but I didn’t think you’d totally forget…” Suddenly, a look of panic comes over him, and his gaze darts back to Heero, eyes wide and blazing blue-violet. “I didn’t get the wrong day, did I?”
He didn’t. It’s been exactly one month, to the day, since they started dating; one month since Heero had marked Duo’s once pristine skin, and in doing so, forged their bond for life. Only, Heero hadn’t counted on Duo wanting to commemorate it. Duo, who is still blinking expectantly up at him, while Heero feels his mouth go dry.
“...No,” Heero starts carefully. “I just thought you didn’t want to… relive those memories.”
From anyone else, the words might read as bitter, but for Heero, that couldn’t be further from the truth. He’ll gladly do whatever he can to accommodate Duo; he’d promised to take care of him, after all. Even if it wounds Heero to think that a part of Duo, however small, still fears him, it is only natural. Heero doesn’t fault Duo for it in the least, nor has he ever expected anything else.
Duo blinks up at him, silently stunned, but then his eyes light with understanding. “Is that what you thought?” he asks, soft.
“I don’t mind,” Heero assures. He lets his hand fall to brush against the mark branding Duo’s pale neck, the reminder of what they are and always will be to one another, and sweeps his thumb gently across it. “Really. I know our mating was… difficult, for you,” he says, and it kind of stings, to say it out loud. “I have no problem—”
“Heero.” Duo stops him, bringing a delicate hand up to rest on Heero’s shoulder. His thin brows are drawn together with concern, his often arresting gaze gentle, imploring. “I don’t regret that night.”
It’s nice to hear, of course, but it isn’t so much regret that Heero had been fearing. If Duo truly regretted their mating, then that would be a disaster of far more catastrophic proportions. But it is reassuring, to know that he doesn’t, so Heero nods, and rests his hand over where Duo’s is draped on his shoulder. “That’s good,” he says. “I’m glad.”
Duo’s small nose wrinkles, an expression he sometimes affects when he’s frustrated. “I don’t regret it,” he says, firmer this time. There’s a bit of fire in his eyes now, a bristle to him. “I mean, I was scared at first, yeah, but not because of you. Never of you!” Duo heaves a shaky breath, and brings his other hand up to Heero’s shocked face.
“Duo, what—?”
“I wanted you so much, Heero,” Duo whispers, voice gone soft. “So much that it scared me. But I was never afraid of you. Not then, and not now.”
Duo’s kisses are often chaste, quick and soft, just a brush of lips against skin, and this is no different. He presses a careful kiss to the corner of Heero’s lips, soft and reassuring, and though it’s achingly gentle it fills Heero with unspeakable warmth.
“You just… never talk about it,” Heero manages, when he remembers how to breathe. There’s something about Duo getting so worked up in this outfit that is doing unspeakable things to him, so Heero has to pause and wonder if he’s really hearing right. “I thought…”
Duo demurely lowers his head, all boldness and bravery slipping away. “Oh, I was just… embarrassed,” he admits, giving Heero a sheepish look. “I just didn’t want you to see me like that, or remember…” He cringes at the memory, and makes a weak effort of trying to worm out of Heero’s grasp, but Heero stops him with a hand caressing his cheek.
“You have nothing to be embarrassed about,” he assures, leaning down to press a kiss to Duo’s forehead. “I thought you were beautiful.”
Duo snorts under his breath, the blush pinking his ears. “Even when I was a hot mess?”
“Yes,” Heero says firmly, and the seriousness of the way he says it gets a little laugh out of Duo. “You’re always beautiful.”
Especially now, he thinks. Heero slips his thumb under the thin strap hanging from Duo’s shoulder, ghosting his fingertips along the soft skin, smooth as glass. It makes Duo aware of himself, suddenly, and he jerks back a little, like he’d been burned. But then he stills, swallowing his nerves, and composes himself enough to let Heero appraise him with his steely gaze, heavy with intent.
The soft, pink fabric covers Duo just to the thigh, but it’s nearly transparent, leaving so little to the imagination that it’s practically obscene. Heero can see the outline of Duo’s small, pink nipples, like rosebuds, the taper to his narrow waist, leading into the flare of his hips. And, stretched just across them, are a pair of delicate, lace panties, the outline like a brand against smooth, fair skin.
Duo isn’t big, not in any sense of the word, but even this thin strip of fabric isn’t enough to completely conceal him. There’s traitorous warmth coiling in Heero’s abdomen before the words have even left his mouth.
“You did this for me,” Heero says, his voice low, sounding far less like the question he’d meant it as.
Duo ducks his head, hands worrying at the lace hem of his negligee. His nails are painted a soft, shimmery pink, winking like seashells from the tips of his slim fingers. “I thought you’d like it,” he says, risking a glance up at Heero through his long lashes. Then, softer, “is it too much?”
Briefly, Heero wonders where Duo even got an idea like this. He’s not wrong , but Heero hadn’t really mentioned his more unconventional tastes; he just didn’t want to give Duo more to worry about. Perhaps he hadn’t been as subtle as he’d imagined, though. More than once he’d dreamt of Duo dolled up in some soft, frilly thing, delicate and demure, like a blushing debutante. So it’s not out of the realm of possibility that he’d occasionally let his gaze linger too long on an article he’d like to see Duo in, and Duo is nothing if not observant.
Heero brings his hand up to the curve of Duo’s cheek, lifting the pretty face to meet his gaze. “Duo, you have no idea,” he manages, and it sounds strained, even to his own ears. ‘Like’ does not even begin to scratch the surface of what he’s feeling, but to say the whole of it would probably just scare Duo off. “I only hope you aren’t… uncomfortable, like this,” he adds. Duo is hardly able to look at him, so it certainly seems that way.
If it were even possible, Duo flushes deeper, bowing his head so that Heero can only see the roots of his chestnut hair. “No, it’s okay…” Duo says quietly, almost as though he’s reluctant. His gaze darts to the side, and he heaves a quick, shuddering breath. “I… I kind of like it, too.”
The admission is so soft, Heero nearly doesn’t hear it. But when he does, he can’t help feeling shell-shocked. It’s not something he would have ever expected. For Duo, who has spent years rejecting this part of himself, burying it—admitting it must be agony. And yet he’s done it, all for Heero’s sake.
In that moment, Heero is overcome with devotion, unable to endure all that he feels for his brave, beautiful omega, that he can no longer restrain himself.
“Good,” Heero says, and snaking a hand into Duo’s soft hair, leans in to kiss him.
This time, Duo doesn’t startle in his arms, but rather, he melts. He clings to Heero’s shoulders like a man drowning, and when Heero deepens the kiss, tangling frenzied fingers into the hair at Duo’s nape, a soft, plaintive moan rises at the base of Duo’s throat.
That sound stirs something in Heero, and before he’d even realized it, his hands were at Duo’s slim waist, lifting him up and setting him squarely on the kitchen counter.
“You’ll make a mess,” Duo admonishes between breaths, but he doesn’t sound particularly bothered when Heero bends down to press his lips to the side of his neck, teeth to skin. A loud, wet moan spills from Duo’s painted lips when Heero’s fangs graze that sensitive mark, and that alone is enough to make Heero’s head spin. Duo has always been loud, even when he’s trying not to be, and now, he hardly seems to be trying at all.
“Don’t worry,” Heero murmurs against him. “I’ll clean up after myself.” His whole body is pushed up against the counter, hips pressed between Duo’s parted legs, and he isn’t quite sure whether the wetness there is his or Duo’s. Probably a bit of both, he thinks. His teeth graze against that sensitive spot and it makes Duo keen, and suddenly one of those long, slim legs are hooked around his own, tugging Heero back against him.
The gesture is yet another reminder that Duo wants this, that Duo enjoys this, and the thought that he could make Duo come apart so easily sends blood rushing fast and low onto Heero’s frame. He kisses Duo again, slow but firm, and his pulse quickens when Duo softens into it, lips parted like an invitation. Duo’s lips taste sweet on his tongue, like vanilla and honey and melted sugar, a taste so addicting Heero wishes the kiss might never end.
But then he hears Duo whine softly against him, and Heero has to force himself to pull back so he can meet Duo’s glassy, violet eyes. “Not here,” Duo murmurs weakly, cheeks flushed and lips reddened from far more than just lipstick. “Bedroom?” he asks, and there’s something shy about it as he looks up at Heero with wide, imploring eyes.
Heero could never say no to those eyes, or that face, or that sweet, honeyed voice. On command, he slips a hand under Duo’s knees and the other beneath his back, sweeping Duo’s silk-clad frame up into his arms with ease. Duo is featherlight in Heero’s arms, delicate like a bird as he clings desperately to Heero’s chest, as though he’s afraid he might let him fall.
“I’ve got you,” Heero promises into Duo’s hair, pressing a kiss against his temple. Duo is soft and pliant as Heero carries him into the bedroom, limp like a doll in his arms. As much as he’d like to throw Duo down onto the bed and take that perfect, beautiful body with little preamble, he doesn’t.
Instead, Heero drapes Duo’s long, lean body out onto the bed with tenderness and care, conscious of the way that intelligent, lavender gaze follows his every move. Duo really is such a pretty thing. Cloaked in shimmering fabric, with his long, white limbs drawn in against him, Duo sparkles like a pearl in the low light—a truly precious gem.
No—more than just a pretty thing, Duo is absolutely divine . Heero doubts he’ll ever have the right words to express just how lovely Duo is, but he can’t let that stop him from trying.
“God, you’re beautiful,” Heero whispers. Duo turns his head from the praise, ears pink with blush, so Heero gently tilts his face upwards by the chin. “Don’t hide from me. You’re gorgeous, Duo. I don’t know how I got so lucky.”
Duo shakes his head, hair falling over his bright eyes. “I’m the lucky one,” he insists, with a firm, determined set to his pretty mouth.
Heero doesn’t deserve Duo, he knows that. But he also knows Duo won’t be pleased with that answer, and he won’t spoil this. So he slips a hand into Duo’s hair, sweeping the soft fringe back from his eyes, and concedes, “maybe we both are.”
That gets a smile out of Duo, just the slightest quirk at the corners of his lips, but it softens the rigid uncertainty to his countenance. As though Duo is, slowly but surely, opening himself to Heero, like a flower in bloom.
Briefly, Heero steps back, working on the buttons at his chest as Duo watches with an air equal parts shy and intrigued. When he finishes, slipping his shirt off of his shoulders, he meets Duo’s appreciative gaze, stifling a laugh when Duo quickly looks away.
Heero knows he doesn’t compare to Duo, not in beauty, but it warms him to know that his lover finds him worthy enough to admire.
Once he’s stripped down to his boxers, he settles down on the bed beside Duo, letting a hand come back up to caress his long hair. Heero lets his hand trail down the length of the thick, heavy plait splayed across the pillows, a touch that makes Duo’s breath hitch.
“Will you turn around for me, beautiful?”
Helpless to resist, Duo turns. His robe has slipped down to hang precariously from his elbows, revealing to Heero the bare, moon-white curve of his shoulders, and the slim, narrow panes of his back. His hair falls perfectly between his shoulder blades, long enough that the braid coils where it rests atop the sheets.
Heero tugs the ribbon from the end of it, drinking in the sight of all that long, thick hair unspooling around Duo’s willowy frame. Heero knows from experience better than to pull it, as the one and only time he’d tried had ended with Duo on the brink of tears. So he’s gentle with the long locks, careful not to pull or make a mess—lest he betray Duo’s trust in him.
Heero often thinks of undressing Duo like he’s unwrapping a gift, something precious, meant for his eyes alone. Taking down his hair is only the first, but perhaps the most important step of that process.
“You have such beautiful hair,” Heero murmurs as he brings a hand up to Duo’s nape, massaging the rest of his abundant hair free of its bindings. He leans down to kiss the back of Duo’s neck, inhaling the intoxicating aroma of lavender and jasmine from the silken strands when he does. It’s hair that would put Rapunzel to shame, Heero thinks, though Duo probably wouldn’t appreciate the comparison.
“Is that the hair fetish talking?” Duo teases as he sends a glance back over one shoulder, eyes sparkling with amusement.
It won’t do Heero much good to deny it, at this point. He’s made no secret of his adoration for Duo’s hair; he simply can’t help himself.
“Maybe,” Heero concedes. He turns Duo gently by the shoulders back to face him, looking into his eyes as he does. “But there is not a single part of you that I do not love.”
Duo’s whole face turns red, lashes fluttering and eyes downcast, as he manages a weak laugh. “You really are too much, Heero…”
Duo might think it’s too much, but for Heero, no amount of kind gestures or pretty words will ever be enough to convey all that he feels. Heero has always been a man of action, and not of words. So he kisses Duo again, gently this time, and then carefully eases the sheer robe off of his arms.
“It’s the truth,” he says, dropping a kiss to Duo’s exposed shoulder that makes Duo shiver. “Every inch of you…” Heero slips a hand beneath Duo’s shoulders and the other at his waist, gently easing that beautiful body back against the pillows. The way Duo looks up at him now, hair splayed out beneath him, exposed and vulnerable, is nothing sort of angelic. “Perfect. You’re like a doll.”
Duo’s eyes go wide, and though he tries to laugh it off, it’s clear that the words have an effect on him. Heero can’t help but notice the way he draws his thighs together, a weak attempt to hide the stirring between his legs. Duo has always been weak to praise, but he seems especially susceptible to it now.
“Are you trying to make me blush?” Duo huffs out a nervous laugh.
“What if I am?” Heero asks, and that’s enough to knock the wind from Duo’s lungs. Then, Heero slips a hand under the silk of the negligee, and he can feel Duo’s heart thrumming beneath his fingertips when they graze the smooth pane of Duo’s chest. “Is it working?”
“Yes,” Duo exhales a shaky breath. His whole body arches up into Heero’s hands, the skin flush and heated with want. Heero needs little more encouragement than that.
The lingerie slip is snug on Duo, at least around his chest. Heero finds himself fumbling trying to get it off, and yet reluctant to rip the intricate garment. He’s defused bombs with twice the ease, but this is different, somehow. Touching Duo feels like a far more delicate affair; too important, too easy to hurt. Now, the consequences of failure feel even more dire.
“The tie at the front,” Duo says gently, guiding Heero’s free hand to the ribbon at his chest. “Here, just pull at the end…”
He does, carefully, and the whole thing comes apart easily under his hands. That feels deceptively easy, Heero thinks, but with Duo bare beneath him but for the lace panties, it hardly seems to matter.
Heero drags a finger along Duo’s now exposed chest, touch reverent as he traces a firm, pert nipple. He hadn’t meant to tease, not really, only to admire. But Duo writhes under his hands nonetheless, mewling as much from pleasure as from need.
“Don’t tease,” Duo gasps softly, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. “Just touch me, please, Heero, I…”
Like he could say no to that. Duo gasps when Heero presses a knee between his legs, shifting atop his squirming body, and cries out when Heero’s hand comes to his chest, thumbing at his flushed, wet nipple.
Coming off his suppressants brought about few changes to Duo’s body; he’s always been slim and lean, short in stature, and pretty beyond comparison. In other words, he looks every bit the omega he’d always been. But Heero, who has been at Duo’s side for years, has come to notice the subtle differences. His potent scent is perhaps the most obvious, but there’s a bit of a natural glow about him too, a softness that hadn’t always been there.
What Heero notices now, though, is the faint, almost imperceptible feeling of fullness in Duo’s chest. It’s not something that can be noticed with the naked eye, even now. But when Heero cups the curve of Duo’s chest, he can feel the softness there, and can see the milky liquid that pearls just at his nipples.
Heero lowers his head to lave his tongue over a nipple, taking care even as his teeth graze against the sensitive skin. His free hand strays to the other, and he takes the tender, pink bud between his fingers until it’s just as hard. The assault leaves Duo squirming beneath him, his delicate frame wracked with shuddering breaths, completely and utterly helpless.
Heero loves Duo like this. He loves Duo in all forms, in all capacities, but especially like this, helpless to Heero’s touch, to his kiss. Heero wants to make Duo his in every way imaginable; in body, in spirit, and in name. Wants to fuck him, breed him, fill him up again and again until it finally takes. Duo would be so full here, in chest, if only he were—
“Heero!” Duo gasps, “I—I’m going to—”
Before he can finish, Heero draws back, breathless. He’d gotten carried away; he’d completely lost control. This isn’t like during Duo’s heat, when he might come again and again with hardly a breath for air. If Heero brings him to finish now, it’s unlikely that Duo will be able to continue for some time, and Heero wouldn’t dream of bringing their night to a premature end like that.
“I’m sorry, angel,” Heero soothes, and even that is enough to make Duo whine; he’ll have to be careful if he wants to make this last. He brings his hand to cup Duo’s cheek, gently swiping at a stray tear with his thumb. “Can you hang on a bit longer?”
Weakly, Duo manages to nod, looking up at Heero with eyes so trusting that it makes his chest ache. As much as he delights in the knowledge that he’s Duo’s first and only lover, it pains him to think that he could have defiled someone so inexperienced, and so pure, for his own twisted pleasures.
“What are you thinking about?” Duo asks in that soft, breathy voice of his, leaning his cheek into the palm of Heero’s hand. It brings to mind the image of a particularly affectionate housecat. “I’m alright. You don’t have to worry.”
Heero must look thoroughly unconvinced, because then Duo huffs under his breath, lifting his chin in a way that feels like equal parts defiance and supplication. “I already told you,” Duo says, eyes clouded and cheeks faintly flushed, “I’m not scared. So—So don’t you dare stop now.”
This kind of boldness—it’s rare for Duo, at least in the bedroom. Though Duo has always been vocal in his appreciation for Heero—perhaps too vocal, with walls these thin—he’s always been shy when it comes to initiating, or asking for what he wants.
But this is different. He says it like a challenge, with a haughty set to his glossed lips, a firmness to his jaw. Yet even that can’t hide the quiver to his stomach, the telltale sign of his anticipation of Heero’s touch. The arch to his back, the way he curls his toes in the sheets, fists his fingers in them—it all speaks to a desperation far deeper than Duo would ever admit to, at least, not while in his right mind.
“If you’re sure,” Heero says, pausing only to fix a stray lock of hair by Duo’s cheek. When Duo nods, it’s enthusiastic and a touch frantic, so Heero takes that as a sign that he’s alright.
Carefully, Heero reaches down and slips two fingers under the hem of the silk panties, and almost instantly Duo jumps, hips jerking up involuntarily into Heero’s hand. As color blooms across Duo’s lily-white skin, Heero finds himself unable to hide a smile.
“Don’t laugh at me,” Duo whines as Heero tugs the filmy fabric from his hips, over his thighs. “Stop that!”
“You want me to stop?” Heero asks. The look he gives Duo is a challenge of its own; Heero knows that Duo’s embarrassment won’t outweigh his need.
Duo knows this too, apparently, so he lays his head back and turns his burning face away. He grumbles something like a no, and huffs in his obvious displeasure.
He really is so innocent, Heero thinks fondly. He hikes up one of Duo’s long, slim legs, so suddenly that it makes Duo yelp, and then bends it carefully at the knee as he slips the snug fabric down over his ankle. It’s such a delicate garment, Heero has no earthly idea where Duo found such a thing. Satiny soft with lace trim, and a little pink bow right at the front; dressed like this, Duo looks like nothing less than a princess.
“You’re an angel,” Heero murmurs, leaning over him. He carefully slips the panties off of Duo’s ankles, one at a time, and then casts them aside. “You have no idea how beautiful you are.”
Duo breathes a soft laugh, chest heaving and face flushed. “You’re not so bad yourself, you know,” he huffs, a smile tugging at his lips.
Heero drops a kiss to Duo’s cheek as he reaches up and over to the nightstand, fishing out the lubricant from the top drawer. Duo’s body isn’t quite as prepared outside of his heat cycle, so Heero had been careful to always keep some available nearby. He coats his fingers in it and then rocks back onto his heels, situated between Duo’s thighs, then teases a slicked finger against Duo’s entrance, slowly easing in.
Duo gasps hard, and Heero watches as his fists tighten in the sheets. Sometimes Heero still can’t fathom how tight Duo is. It isn’t like Heero has tons of experience himself, but no one he’s been with has even come close to the way Duo feels. Unbelievably tight and viscerally responsive, Duo is like a virgin, each and every time.
And as he adds a second finger and Duo’s back arches up with a cry, it doesn’t seem like that’s changed.
“Are you alright?” Heero asks, watching Duo’s flushed face for any alarming change in expression. But Duo only nods, his eyes clouded and distant as he writhes helplessly under Heero’s hands.
“Yes,” he gasps out, trembling. “Just—please, I need…”
“What do you need?” Heero asks, working his two fingers into him. Duo somehow finds the strength to pout at him, but his expression shatters when Heero adds a third, making him choke on a gasp.
“I need you!” Duo nearly sobs, tears at the corners of his eyes. “Please, Heero, I… I won’t last—”
It’s tempting to tease him, but it’s abundantly clear to Heero that Duo really won’t last, and to deny him release any longer would be excessively cruel. Duo slumps back against the sheets as Heero draws his fingers out, and then leans down to press a quick kiss to the tears pooling at the corner of Duo’s eye.
Stripped of his boxers, Heero reaches over to palm the bottle of lubricant, taking a generous helping of it into his hands and then onto himself. Truthfully, he prefers when Duo does this for him; Heero revels at the feeling of those small, delicate hands around his cock, touch fleeting and featherlight as they stroke up and down the length of it. But now, Duo looks so beside himself that Heero figures it would be easiest to do on his own.
Heero drops a hand down to lift Duo by the hips, and slips the other under his knee, lifting Duo’s leg to hook over his hip, around his back. Duo gasps out a startled “oh!” at that, but Heero is unfettered as he positions himself at Duo’s entrance. With how wet Duo feels against him, Heero half wonders if they even needed lubricant at all.
Slowly, Heero presses into him, and over the sound of the blood rushing in his ears, he faintly hears Duo gasp. It shouldn’t be a shock anymore, and yet Heero still can’t believe how snug Duo feels around him, how small he is. It takes every bit of strength Heero has left within him not to just plow into Duo, to hold still and resist that primal instinct that goads him into claiming what’s his.
But beneath him, Duo is still squirming with discomfort, chest fluttering with the rise and fall of each labored breath. His eyes are clenched shut, tears like dewdrops beaded on his lashes, and his long, silken hair is haloed out behind him. He looks so fragile like this, Heero thinks, as though he’s made of porcelain. His delicate, porcelain doll.
“Tell me if it hurts,” Heero manages, but Duo only shakes his head. He brings his hands up towards Heero’s face, one grasping at his shoulder and the other at the back of his neck, fingers tangling into Heero’s coarse hair.
“It doesn’t,” Duo exhales in a soft, trembling voice. “I’m okay. I want you to… I just want to feel you, please…”
It’s enough to make Heero shudder. How could he ever deny Duo that? Heero rocks his hips into Duo’s in slow, deep strokes as Duo clings desperately to his shoulders, long legs hooked around Heero’s waist. That physical reminder of Duo’s vulnerability, of his total, absolute trust in Heero, is enough to galvanize him into picking up pace.
“You don’t know how long I used to dream about this,” Heero says between breaths, thrusting his hips forward so he hits that sweet, sensitive spot that makes Duo cry out again and again. “About having you.” He’s not rough about it, not as much as he could be, rocking his hips into Duo’s with as much gentleness and care as he can manage. “You’re more perfect than I ever could have imagined…”
“Heero,” Duo gasps out, his breath warm at the side of Heero’s throat. There’s an urgency to it, a desperation as Duo clutches at Heero’s back, body curved up against him. With each breathless gasp mounting in intensity, Heero knows Duo won’t last much longer.
“Just relax,” Heero soothes when Duo whines against him. “You’ve done so well. Come for me, beautiful.”
And when Heero thrusts into him once more, Duo comes apart with a strangled sob, as loud and unrestrained as ever. He loses his grip on Heero’s shoulders and falls in a tangle of pale limbs and long hair back against the sheets, utterly blissed out. His lips, glossy and pink, part as he gasps for breath, and his long lashes sweep the curve of his flushed cheek when his eyes slip shut. Like this, Duo is the very picture of euphoria.
It’s that very image that pushes him over the edge, and with one last thrust, Heero comes.
In that moment of bliss, it’s as though Heero’s mind has shorted out, vision gone white. And when he finally comes to, his vision clears to the sight of Duo, chest heaving and eyes fluttered half open, dreamy and soft.
And in that moment, Heero can’t imagine ever loving anyone more.
Heero eases out of him, acutely aware of the soft whine Duo makes when he does, and then rolls off of the other to lay beside him. Though he’s thoroughly spent, Heero takes a moment to tug the sheets over them both, taking care to tuck Duo’s limp form safely beneath the covers, lest he get cold.
Once Duo catches his breath, he’s quick to cuddle up to Heero’s side, resting a hand on Heero’s broad, bare chest as he leans his head against his shoulder. It’s not unusual for Duo to be this tactile when they finish. More often than not, Duo will curl up against him like this, reminding Heero once again of the image of some sort of spoiled, domesticated feline. Not that he altogether minds.
“Are you feeling alright?” Heero asks. He rests a hand over the one Duo’s draped across his chest, stroking his thumb over the back of it. “I didn’t hurt you?”
Duo shakes his head, smiling sleepily at him with lidded eyes. “Never,” he assures, snuggling up to Heero’s chest.
And for once, Heero believes him.
Standing in the kitchen in only their undergarments, Heero can’t say that he’s surprised they forgot about dinner. He’s only glad that Duo remembered before they burned the whole kitchen down.
But when he sees Duo’s utterly defeated expression at the black smear in the pan, Heero says, “I’ll still eat it, if you want.”
Duo sighs, tugging his robe over his bare chest, arms folded in on himself. “No, don’t worry about it,” he grumbles, “I guess I just lost track of time…”
“It’s my fault,” Heero insists. “I’m the one who distracted you.”
That’s enough to get a little smirk out of Duo. “It was a welcome distraction,” he assures. “But I should’ve… paid more attention, or something,” Duo sighs. “Some omega I am, I can’t even make a meal right…”
Heero turns to look at him, blinking with surprise. Is that what he’s worried about? It isn’t as though this is Duo’s fault, and he’s always been good at cooking, anyways. Distractions notwithstanding. Does he think he’s a somehow inadequate partner, then? Heero can’t think of anyone who more perfectly embodies all of the things an omega should be than Duo. And standing here in this pretty, pink night robe, flustered and upset, Duo more than looks the part.
“You don’t have to do all of this, you know,” Heero says gently, carding a hand through Duo’s soft, unbound hair. “I never expected you to be some perfect, domestic housewife just because you’re an omega.”
While the thought of a tamed, domesticated Duo answering Heero’s every beck and call certainly makes for a pretty picture, for Heero, it’s never been anything more than a fantasy. Heero had fallen for Duo as his partner—with his wild, spirited ways and all. He had never needed, or wanted, anything different.
Heero lifts a lock of Duo’s hair to his lips and kisses it, making Duo whirl around and blush incredulously. “You know I think you’re perfect exactly as you are,” Heero assures.
“I…” Duo drops his gaze, faintly flushed. “I know that, I just… I wanted to do something for you. To show how much I appreciate… how grateful I am to you, and…”
It takes Heero a moment to realize that Duo is actually on the verge of tears. For years, his mantra had been that age-old, “boys don’t cry,” and he still rarely sheds a tear—not unless he’s overwhelmed by whatever Heero’s doing to him in bed. It’s jarring to see Duo become so emotional over something so small, and though a part of him thinks Duo is just hormonal coming off his suppressants, Heero can’t help wondering if it’s something else. If maybe he really is…
Heero silently stops himself. He can’t waste time thinking about that now, not when Duo is so clearly distraught.
“Duo, it’s alright,” Heero promises, turning him by the shoulders as Duo swipes at his tear-filled eyes. Heero silently wishes that he were better at offering comfort, the way Quatre always seems to be. It’s no wonder that Duo had been so close to him for so long. “You don’t owe me anything. Really, don’t worry about it.”
From the corner of his eye, Heero catches a glimpse of the shopping bag he’d left on the counter, and his eyes light with recognition. “Here, I got you something.”
Duo is still sniffling when Heero turns to fish the long, slim velvet box from the bag, but when he turns back, those lavender eyes are sparkling with interest. “Really?” he asks, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “What is it?”
“An anniversary gift,” Heero says simply, holding it out to him.
Duo takes the little box with both hands, and when he opens it, his breath catches. For a long while, he says nothing, only staring at the pretty gold hairpin with wide eyes, and Heero begins to wonder if he’d been off the mark. So he isn’t expecting it when Duo sets down the box and embraces him, arms thrown over Heero’s shoulders and face buried into the side of his neck.
“It’s beautiful,” Duo murmurs quietly, cheeks damp against Heero’s bare skin. “I love it.”
Heero sighs, relief washing over him. “I… know you’re not much for jewelry,” he starts haltingly, stroking a hand down Duo’s back. “But I thought, if it was for your hair…”
Duo draws back, and Heero can see that he’s still holding the hairpin carefully in one hand, like it’s a treasure to him. “No, it’s perfect!” he insists, lashes fluttering and looking particularly determined. “And besides, I like jewelry,” he adds, a little softer. “I’ve just never had the nicest pieces to wear… And no one’s ever given me something like this…”
Softening, Heero smiles fondly, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair behind Duo’s ear. “You shouldn’t have said that,” he teases, “because now I’m going to buy you so much, you won’t know what to do with it.”
Duo scoffs, laughing softly under his breath. “At this rate, I might even let you.”
Heero smiles, cradling Duo’s cheek in his palm, and then leans down to press a gentle, chaste kiss to his smiling lips. Any excuse to spoil Duo is one that he won’t take for granted.
“Why don’t we just have something delivered?” Heero suggests when he pulls away, before Duo can deflate at the thought of his ruined dinner again. “Maybe from that Japanese place you liked?”
Thankfully, Duo nods, managing a smile. “That sounds nice,” he agrees, but not without a forlorn sigh. “Still, it’s such a waste…”
“Don’t worry about it,” Heero assures. “If it really bothers you, you can always try again another time,” he suggests. Maybe for their next anniversary, he thinks to himself.
After all, Heero is sure that they will have many more to come.