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"Honeymoon"Written By: Clara Barton Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing. The following
is an intellectual exercise with no intention of profit. That said,
these characterizations, words, and situations are mine. Please ask
before reprinting. Rating: NC 17 Warnings: language, sex Pairings: 2x3 Summary:
"Honeymoon" "The next time we get married, we're doing it simple - hell, we're doing it in secret. No ceremony with half the people you work with and Quatre's entire fucking family. No reception that lasts for seven thousand hours. Just me and you. We won't even need an officiant. I'll take classes online or something and get my license or whatever I need. But we are not going through that circus again. No offense to circuses." Duo's voice echoed off the empty hallway, the rows of identical hotel room doors closed, the emerald carpet stretching out for what seemed like miles in front of them. Trowa arched an eyebrow at Duo. "Under what circumstances do you see us needing to do this again?" Duo shrugged, grinned, and bumped his shoulder against Trowa's. "Dunno. But if you play your cards right…" he trailed off, and waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "If I play my cards right, I get to marry you again, or if I play my cards right, I don't have to marry you again?" Duo sighed. "Babe, I honestly don't even know. All I know, at this moment in time, is that I am dying to get out of this tux." Trowa checked the number on the room key again. 799. He looked back at the room they had just walked past. 713. Trowa wondered if their room even existed. It felt like days since he had last slept - and actually, it had been days. Between Heero's last-minute realization that, as best man, it was his responsibility to throw Trowa a bachelor party, and his insistence that they fly across the country to Vegas in the middle of the night for twenty-four hours of debauchery before getting back to Boston just in time for the rehearsal dinner, followed by Quatre's insistence that Duo and Trowa spend their wedding night apart and the resulting night of drinking and reminiscing with Quatre, and then showing up at dawn at the church that Cathy had started attending last year, had begged in that way she had of not really begging so much as demanding that Trowa and Duo get married there, even though Duo was a belligerent atheist and Trowa an apathetic agnostic. And then the ceremony, which had felt too long and too short at the same time, followed by the reception - which had not been seven thousand hours long but, by Trowa's estimation, had still been at least two hours too long. 785. 787. "Do you even know where we're going at this point?" Duo asked, his whining earning a glare from Trowa. "It's a straight hall. There's only one way to go," Trowa pointed out. Duo sighed again, and readjusted his bag over his shoulder. It had been Quatre's idea, a honeymoon. Duo and Trowa were both busy, reluctant to take time off of work considering the literal shitstorm the world seemed to be descending into, but Quatre had insisted, in that way he had of making it seem like he was only looking out for them, and really he was a genius and kind and generous, and they would be the dumbest assholes in the world to go against his suggestion. Duo, who had been on the edge of backing out of getting married almost as soon as he had finished proposing to Trowa on election night, as cold reality set in and they realized that there would not be a Madame President, had been overwhelmed by the wedding planning, and Trowa had stepped in as soon as Cathy started volunteering to help. Duo had gratefully promised that whatever Trowa wanted was fine, was wonderful, was perfect. The honeymoon had been the same, the idea sprung on them like a trap only a few weeks ago, as Duo was in the midst of job hunting after unceremoniously - or rather, painfully ceremoniously - leaving his job as a prosecutor with the Justice Department. Trowa hadn't even waited for Duo to glumly volunteer to take care of it - he had instead insisted that he be the one to plan it, and Duo had guilty sighed in relief and put it out of his mind entirely. Unfortunately, Trowa had done the same. There had just been too much else to think about - all of the other absurd plans for the wedding, plus his own job as an associate with Sidney Austin. Duo had been forced to quit his job because he couldn't stomach the idea of working for an administration that was the literal antithesis of his morals. And Trowa, who had gone into environmental law and landed himself a position at one of the best environmental law firms in the country, routinely found himself buried in an avalanche of disaster with no end in sight. It hadn't been until last week, when Quatre had gone with him to pick up his tux and asked where they were going for their honeymoon that Trowa had remembered they were going on one at all. In a panic, he had booked a flight and hotel room for a four-day weekend in Key West. He had never been. Duo had never been. He didn't even know if they would enjoy it, but the airfare had been cheap and it would be warm, which was a hell of a lot more than Trowa could say about New York City. So, after the never-ending reception finally ended, they had to rush off to the airport, having no time to even change out of their tuxes before boarding, and by midnight they were blearily staggering down the longest hall in the universe, hopefully towards their hotel room. 799. At last. Duo leaned against the wall, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead to the almost but maybe not quite tacky wallpaper, while Trowa struggled to unlock the door. "You're usually better with your hands than this," Duo mumbled, his eyes still closed, as Trowa tried for a fifth time to insert the room key into the reader. "I've usually had sleep at some point in recent history," Trowa growled. "Mm. Sleep. I've heard of that." Trowa had to smirk at Duo's voice, at the wistful tone and the gravelly, exhausted pitch. Finally, the door chimed, and Trowa was able to push it open. The room they walked into felt like a sauna, and the sound of the heating unit working at full power was almost deafening. "What the fuck?" Duo dropped his bag by the door and strode across the room, his earlier lethargy gone, and proceeded to wrangle with the thermostat. Trowa let him handle it, and instead picked up Duo's bag as well as his own and set them down beside the dresser before taking a good look at the room. It was spacious, with a small breakfast area near the windows, but the room was dominated by the king sized bed that looked as full and soft as a damn cloud. Trowa wanted nothing in the world more than to sink down onto that mattress and close his eyes. "There. We shouldn't burn to a crisp now," Duo muttered, as the sound of the heating unit whined down to a soft purr and then stopped altogether. "That reminds me, we need to get sunscreen for you tomorrow," Trowa said, as he toed off his shoes and started to loosen his bowtie. "I don't need sunscreen," Duo argued, balancing on one foot to pull off his shoes one at a time. Trowa arched an eyebrow at the inelegant display and the words. "It's going to take all of five minutes in the sun before you turn into a lobster," Trowa pointed out. "And I did not marry a lobster." Duo looked mutinous, but as soon as Trowa said the word 'marry', his expression softened. "Yeah? What did you marry?" There was a glimmer in Duo's eyes, the familiar flash of mischief that Trowa had grown to love. "I'm not sure. Why don't you remind me." Duo grinned and, shoes removed, straightened up to his full height. He walked towards Trowa, backing him up until Trowa felt the mattress against his thighs. He took the hint and sat down. "It's funny you say you didn't marry a lobster," Duo said as he tugged at his own tie, having opted for a modern, thin black tie over Trowa's more traditional route, until it came loose. Trowa watched his nimble fingers, mesmerized as he always was by their movements. Duo started to unbutton his shirt, leaving his jacket and vest on, both already open. He didn't bother to untuck the tails of his shirt, and Trowa arched an eyebrow at the display. "Because I seem to recall you appreciating turning my skin red," Duo said, his voice barely above a whisper as he pulled open his shirt, revealing the mottled pink, red and purple marks on his chest, days old now and still bright and distinct. Trowa reached out, tracing over the marks he had left on Duo's pale skin, remembering the feel of Duo's flesh in his mouth, his fingers digging into Trowa's scalp and his breathy voice begging for more. "That is true," he agreed, and spread Duo's shirt open wide enough so that he could pinch one of Duo's flat, brown nipples. Duo hissed at the shock of sensation and rocked towards Trowa. Trowa gave a slight twist, and Duo groaned and leaned forward, dipping his head down to reach Trowa's lips, but Trowa moved backwards, pulling away just enough. Duo's eyes narrowed. "Trowa," he growled. "Duo." He knew the tone, knew what was coming, and Trowa had to smirk as Duo drew in a shaky breath, his tongue darting out to lick his lips in anticipation. "I appreciated your vows," Trowa said, releasing Duo's nipple and smoothing his hand up Duo's chest, around his neck, and found Duo's long braid of hair. He pulled it forward, finding the tie that bound it together, and started to slowly work the plait free. "Yeah?" "Mm." Trowa had been shocked, had actually forgotten his own vows and had to stutter through them for a moment before he remembered what he had planned. "Say it again," he suggested, spreading Duo's hair out across his back and dragging his fingers over Duo's scalp, massaging and tugging just hard enough to have Duo closing his eyes and arching his neck back. "The whole thing?" "Yes." Duo's lips quirked and he opened his eyes, the mischief back. "Like this?" Trowa was a little confused by the question. "Or…" Duo stepped back and knelt down on the floor. With his hair loose and his clothes open to reveal his bruised skin, he looked every inch Trowa's fantasy. "Like this?" "Like that," Trowa agreed, standing himself. Duo grinned, but then he sobered up. "I, Duo Maxwell, take you to be my husband, to have and to hold, from this day forth. I promise to love you, to cherish you, to support you and stand beside you no matter what we face, to obey you, to never forget how lucky I am to have you. I promise to be here for you, through this life and whatever comes next." Every word had meant the world to Trowa, when Duo had said them in the church. He had felt his throat and heart constrict beyond the point of pain, had wondered how he was able to breathe or function at all as Duo looked at him with such open worship as he said the words, as he slipped the white gold wedding band with its thin row of sapphires onto Trowa's shaking hand. "Recycled metal, lab grown gemstones," Duo had whispered to him with a wink when the ring was on. Now, hours later and still wondering if the whole thing had been a dream, Trowa put his left hand against Duo's cheek, admiring the glint of the ring on his hand as he caressed Duo's warm, soft skin. Obey. Trowa still couldn't believe he had said it. He was sure that everyone at the ceremony had assumed it was sarcastic, had figured it was Duo being Duo - had probably thought it was impossible that stubborn, headstrong Duo Maxwell would ever commit, publicly or privately, to obey anyone. But it hadn't been a joke, hadn't been even a little sarcastic. And now, kneeling in front of Trowa, looking up at him with drowning eyes, Trowa felt equal parts burdened and freed by that commitment. It wasn't that Duo didn't obey him - he did, now. It had taken a while, had taken months before Duo was even willing to entertain the idea of more than a heat-of-the-moment slap on the ass as erotic. It had taken a year before Duo started to ask Trowa to tie him up or bend him over his knee. After six years, Duo was finally comfortable, finally eager to be dominated. But Trowa still hadn't expected him to be so public about it. Duo turned his head, catching Trowa's thumb between his lips and giving it a gentle nip. Trowa smirked, and eased the digit further into the wet cavern, until Duo started to suck on it. "You didn't need to say it." Trowa had let Duo ease into things, had made sure that Duo was never more than a few steps into the deep end of things, and it had taken a while for Duo to wrap his head around the idea of Trowa, shy and quiet in public, as someone who wanted to own him, to make him beg for release. Duo released his thumb, trailing his tongue over it in a lingering caress. "I wanted to. I needed to." Trowa arched an eyebrow. "You needed everyone in that church to know you planned on getting on your knees, obeying my every command, begging me to fuck you for the rest of our lives?" Duo gave him a broad, lopsided grin. The same grin that had left Trowa speechless the first time he saw it, almost eight years ago. "I mean, I didn't say all of that." "But you meant it." He tried to make it sound like a statement, but even Trowa heard the question in his own voice. "Oh, hell yes, I meant all of that." Duo turned his head a little and nuzzled against Trowa's thigh. They had both been surprised by how much Duo enjoyed being submissive. Trowa had hoped he would - but even he hadn't thought their relationship would have evolved to the point where it is today. ~ * ~ |
