Chapter Text
“Soon,” Duo had been promised, but bureaucracy doesn’t move nearly as fast as Duo would like. Possibly worse than that, Duo is a pregnant concubine. His job—if he has any at all—is to mostly be pampered and take care of himself. He’s offered more food than he’s ever seen outside of great feasts far more often than he’s at all comfortable with, and otherwise is tasked with virtually nothing during his days.
In a fit of irritation and outright boredom, he offers his expertise in Eltoo to ensure that the messenger—when they are chosen and when they go, he has to believe it’s when and not if—they’ll be better prepared. Winner smiles at him in that condescending way that immediately gets under Duo’s skin and makes him want to hit something, then tells him that they’ll certainly take his advice into account when they’re more ready to move into that direction.
Duo doesn’t actually think Heero is dumb enough to send a messanger—or envoy—without consulting Duo on how not to get him killed at first contact, but he’s not as sure about those who advise him.
Regardless, it leaves Duo with Trowa or Wufei—and occasionally Relena—to keep him company most of the time, since Heero doesn’t really trust any of the other soldiers to watch him now, and effectively nothing else to do.
Never in his life has Duo had so much time on his hands and so little to occupy it. None of Heero’s people like seeing him practicing his more dangerous skills—how little he’s been able to keep them polished in the past several months is bad enough, he doesn’t want to get worse—but they also haven’t provided him with any real acceptable alternatives. Instead, some of the servants who often come to help him dress and try to do his hair make suggestions to him as if he’s some dainty creature of leisure. He’s been suggested embroidery or painting, and one lady had suggested studying cosmetics—”Not that you need them, of course, it’s unfair for a man to be so beautiful naturally”—to make himself more presentable to the Lowe court.
Over his dead body.
Another one—who didn’t return after the suggestion—thought that learning to style his hair in “more appropriate and fashionable ways” might be an exercise worthy of his time and attention. While he wanted to give her such a verbal lashing that she ran away crying, he had the distinct impression that the poor thing really was sympathetic and trying to help, so he’d just given her an extremely curt no and left it at that.
She had still looked like she wanted to cry, and—as mentioned—she didn’t come back after that. Duo should probably feel worse about that than he does, but he finds it difficult to remember that the Lowe are people too. Being given a chance to serve the royal concubine—even temporarily—was probably meaningful in some way that Duo isn’t going to pretend to understand.
And he hadn’t been mean or cruel, just firm. Firmness seems to work best with the servants—mostly women—who attend him. A few seemed to expect to be able to bully him somewhat, but when he made it clear that wouldn’t be happening, they backed off somewhat.
Not that he needs help to dress himself most days, though he can’t help but notice a number of new outfits that do, in fact, require someone to help him into them…
And probably more importantly, out of them.
Though he usually looks tired—deep circles growing under his eyes—Heero seems to find solace in being able to end his days with Duo. Having the excuse of having to help Duo out of his gowns seems to please him, as well, and though Duo might like to pettily deny him that little pleasure, he does actually need help.
If it almost invariably leads to Heero stroking his hands over Duo’s skin, kissing at his mark, and eventually sliding in to his far-too-receptive body, well, it’s not like Duo can say he doesn’t enjoy the sex. He would like to—he would really, really like to—but the more often they have sex, the less irritable he finds himself. Not only that, but he feels like the less antagonistic he makes an effort to be, the easier it feels like breathing is. Not that the yoke ever truly, literally, restricted his breathing, but there was a constant thrumming tension and agitation under his skin that seems to ease the more he and Heero… get along.
Duo would like to get along far less, but the bond clearly working to make them behave better with one another is hard to ignore.
Even worse, the more they have sex and the less they fight, the better the sex is getting. That’s a side effect that Duo couldn’t have imagined would come about. After three weeks of being treated softly and tenderly, Duo finds his body beginning to anticipate returning to their rooms in the evening. They finally returned to the previous week, but Duo still does his best to avoid it during the day. Even if the sex is now beginning to border on welcome, and even if now Heero is… tolerable, the rooms are still where Duo was first imprisoned, where he was brought to be violated repeatedly, where he first learned that the gods are cruel in ways both petty and great.
He’d rather have stayed in the guest quarters, which at least don’t have the terrible memories in them.
Still, the frequent, pleasant sex has done its work on his body. He can feel his cock beginning to get hard beneath his gown as he approaches the bedroom, can feel his hole beginning to throb inside. He hates that he can sense the changes in his body as it readies itself for its mate. He doesn’t want to look forward to seeing Heero, doesn’t want to look forward to feeling his large, rough hands take care with the delicate laces and buttons before they stroke over his skin. It does though, as traitorous as the gods who marked him with their curse.
When he finally enters the room, he’s surprised to find himself alone. It’s later than usual—Duo having tried to put off these sensations, the feelings humming through him—but Heero isn’t here. It’s such a surprise that he feels his chest tighten in anxiety. The gown he’s wearing today has tiny buttons in the middle of the back, where he can’t possibly reach them without being unusually flexible or without tearing them off. Though the idea is more than a little tempting, instead he goes to the door.
Trowa is still lingering at the side, actually lounging against the wall, though he straightens when Duo sticks his head out. Seeing him there suddenly makes Duo realize what he’d done. That coming back to find Heero not here, his first instinct had been to go ask one of the men closest to Heero—one of those who still guards him.
Raising a silent eyebrow, Duo can practically hear the question that Trowa wants to ask him, but he stays silent, waiting.
Do you know where Heero is? The question stays trapped in his throat, caught behind his teeth, practically feeling like it’s blocking his voice. He doesn’t want to ask, doesn’t really want to know. What he’d like to do is just go to bed, not wait for his wayward mate to come and undress him. Maybe he could have Trowa summon a servant to help him instead? It is late, but surely there is someone who would be qualified around, and if they can see him unclothed to dress him, then surely they can see him to undress him?
But it feels wrong, even in his head, to imagine it. As if some deeper instinct knows that the only one who should be disrobing him is Heero.
“Is there something you need?” Trowa finally asks when Duo stays silent for too long.
Rubbing a tired hand over his face—though he hasn’t been doing enough today to be tired, who knew being idle could be so exhausting—Duo says, “Can you take me to Heero?”
There. That’s a compromise he can work with. He didn’t ask where Heero is, as if he were worried about him, though it’s not like Duo will ever have to worry about infidelity. Heero’s as trapped by their shared curse regarding that as Duo is. Still, it’s quite late, late enough that all the torches and braziers are lit, and shadows press in on the stone between the lights they throw.
For a long moment, he thinks Trowa is going to ignore him, but he finally inclines his head. “I’m sure he’s still in his study. I can escort you,” he says, motioning Duo forward.
Relieved, and mad to be so, Duo steps fully into the hall, then falls into pace at Trowa’s side. Trowa is too much of a soldier—and seen too much of what Duo is capable of—to like having Duo at his back, and Duo actually respects that. Even if he knows that Duo would be harming his own current position to go against Heero in such a way as attacking or killing one of his best generals, he’d be a fool not to consider that Duo might do it out of sheer spite.
He has certainly considered it.
Duo tries to track the path to the study—he’s been here on two other occasions that he can recall—but the damned halls of the palace all look alike to him, and so do all the old, dead men in the portraits and tapestries that occasionally decorate the walls. He’s taken to spending time wandering around recently just to try to mentally map the damn place, but he’s finding it much more challenging than he originally thought it would be. So many twisting, turning, narrow halls that all look alike. Of course, the palace is also a fortress, and all of those things that are giving Duo difficulty learning the layout are also things that would make it challenging to assail or take, even once inside, but he can resent them for making his everyday life a little harder. Honestly, it’s a wonder that Deathscythe has found a path in through the halls that she fits through, and hasn’t just opted for the balcony entrance all the time.
Fortunately for him, Trowa seems to have no such challenge. He navigates them effortlessly, and Duo has to bite back the urge to make small talk with him. He’s grown to like both Relena—and even Wufei—quite a bit, much to his own irritation, and he’s growing to appreciate Trowa as well, but he doesn’t actually want to make friends with Heero’s people. Relena and Wufei, he can excuse. Relena is a princess—to be queen—in her own right, and while an ally of Heero’s, she doesn't answer to him, and since Wufei mated Relena, that also puts him in a different category.
But Trowa is like Winner, and he is all Heero’s creature. There’s no need to make friends with Heero’s friends except to admit defeat.
Which, if he were a little less stubborn, he should probably do, but he’s still not ready to concede that this will forever be his life. He’s not ready to completely give up the hope that there will be a way out.
So rather than talking to fill the silence, he lets the silence hang. With Trowa, at least, the silence is more comfortable than most. Trowa isn’t an overly talkative person to begin with, and he seems more at ease with the quiet than most people Duo has known.
Duo recognizes—vaguely—the guards standing outside what he presumes to be the doors to Heero’s study, and they both straighten visibly, coming alert as soon as they catch sight of Trowa and him. Duo’s mildly impressed. They hadn’t been at the exhausting level of attention that’s just unsustainable, but they had been alert, waiting for anything that might grab their attention. They hadn’t noticed them until they were in sight, but both he and Trowa have unusually soft footing, so he can’t really call them inattentive.
It really annoys him when he’s reminded the Lowe soldiers are well-trained. It’s part of the reason his people have had such problems with Lowe armies over the years. They struggle against the fast and mobile attacks of Eltoo horse archers, but they’re organized and don’t usually panic either. Eltoo often wins individual encounters, but Lowe holds their ground annoyingly well.
“Sir,” the two guards greet, saluting.
Trowa nods his head. “Evening,” he says. “Can you announce us?”
The guard to the left salutes him again, then turns to the door, knocks a rhythmic cadence Duo has heard enough to memorize at this point, then opens the door and steps just into the opening. “Your Majesty, General Barton, and—Duo.”
There was just the barest pause before he decided to announce Duo by his given name, and Duo could practically hear the whore that the soldier probably wanted to say instead.
“Let them in,” Heero calls.
The guard steps back out, opens the door wider, then motions them forward.
Across from Heero, Winner sits, looking as stressed and worn as Heero does.
“Is it really so late?” he asks, looking around, taking note of the lights as though only just noticing them. “I’m terribly sorry—”
Heero raises a stalling hand. “It’s fine,” he says, then rubs his forehead. “We’re at a good stopping place, and at this point, everything was can do has already been done. Tomorrow is the state funeral—”
“And your coronation over the Zodiac,” Winner reminds him. Heero winces.
“The king is dead; long live the king,” he says with a kind of grim resignation in his voice. “Trowa, thank you. Quatre, you can both retire. I’ll make sure we’ve got a proper escort back.”
Raising another eyebrow at Heero, Trowa says, “I’ll see to that, if I may, Your Majesty.”
It’s not really a question, and Heero’s clearly not of a mind to argue with him. “As you will,” he says.
Trowa and Winner both bow, then see themselves out. Either the guards outside will get their instructions, or Trowa will see that more are sent. Duo doesn’t really care. Instead, he finds himself standing across the desk from Heero, and his skin practically aches with being this close and not touching after such a long day.
“I need help with my gown,” Duo says.
Heero blinks at him for a long moment, then uses the desk to push himself to his feet. “Of course,” he blurts out, and his reaction confirms what Duo suspected about Heero asking that Duo be dressed in clothing he needs to be helped out of.
Rather than commenting, Duo pulls his braid over his shoulder and puts his back to Heero. Once Heero undoes the buttons, he can surely hold the dress together well enough to return to the bed chamber?
But then Heero’s breath is hot against his yoke, and his body sings in anticipation of his mate’s closeness.
“I’ve missed you today,” Heero says, his voice a little rough, as though he’s either been talking a lot or not talked in hours. His hands find the buttons and begin undoing them deftly, and each moment he is so close without actually touching, Duo can feel his own arousal grow.
Heero must be able to smell his desire on him, because as the buttons are released, the gown is loosened, and Heero buries his face in the join of Duo’s neck and shoulder. Duo shudders in his arms, taking the weight of his head easily, even as Heero undoes the last button that allows the gown to release from his body. It’s heavy enough that as Heero works the last button free, it virtually drops from Duo, to his feet, leaving him naked but for his hair, jewelry, and shoes, but before he can say anything, Heero’s wrapping an arm around his waist, pulling Duo tightly to him.
Then he stops.
The arm wrapped around Duo’s waist moves back, until Heero’s hand is resting over his abdomen, and the thing Duo has been ignoring all day—the discomfort at the tightness of the gown’s structure feeling like it was a little too tight all day—is suddenly very real.
Grabbing Duo’s waist, Heero turns him around and presses him up against the desk. Leaning back even a little makes the slight bulge in his belly—the visual proof of his condition, even more so than the mere conception mark—even more pronounced. Heero stares at it for a moment, then slowly sinks down to his knees to put it at his eye level.
“You’re showing,” he says. Breathes out, really. With enough quiet awe in his voice to make Duo intensely uncomfortable, especially since he’s halfway to hard already, and he can feel himself making slick. Heero nuzzles the slight bulge there, obviously making an effort to scent it, and Duo’s instincts preen to please his alpha so much. “Our litter…” Heero all but croons. “Our children…”
At war internally with how much he doesn’t want Heero to be touching him like this and how much his instincts want to be touched like this, Duo says, “We don’t know how many…”
Heero kisses right beneath his navel and says, “You’re magnificent.”
Duo hates that the open praise makes heat rise to his cheeks. Before he can complain, however, Heero catches him off guard by wrapping an arm around his legs, then another around his waist, and seemingly effortlessly lifting him up into the air. Duo yelps, grabbing at his shoulders in surprise, and is lowered gently to the desk. He glares up at Heero but opens his legs up at Heero’s gentle touch.
“Put your feet on the edge of the desk,” Heero says, his voice getting husky in a way that goes right to Duo’s cock, and his legs move without him really thinking about it. Then Heero sinks back down, lifting Duo’s balls out of the way, and licks over his hole.
Reaching for Heero’s head and partially sitting up on instinct, he’s stopped when Heero says, “Grip the desk above your head.”
Too tired, too unprepared to fight the Command, Duo’s hands move automatically, and Heero doesn’t give him a chance to argue before he’s licking again.
“What are you—?” he manages to choke out before Heero’s tongue is slipping into him, and he loses words entirely.
After a moment, Heero pulls back. “I’m pleasing you,” he says simply, then goes back to work.
And so he does. He uses his mouth, and then his fingers, to open Duo up, make him so wet that Duo can feel it gathering on the desk beneath him. He only pays enough attention to Duo’s cock to make sure to press it to his belly when he comes, making sure he sprays his spend on his own chest instead of all over Heero’s face.
He makes Duo come three times before he finally stands up, his mouth sloppy with Duo’s slick as he leans over him, pulling out his cock. Duo doesn’t care. He finally releases the desk to grab the back of Heero’s neck and pull him down, claiming his mouth, licking deep into it as Heero had licked into him, and Heero lets him, sucking on his tongue, welcoming him in, so they’re both panting when they part.
“Fuck me,” Duo demands, feeling the heat of Heero’s cock rubbing between his legs, taunting him.
“I wanted to please you—!” He chokes off slightly as Duo shifts his fingers to press warning claws into the delicate skin of Heero’s neck.
With a low growl of his own, Duo says, “If you want to please me, then fuck me properly… Alpha.”
It’s enough. Heero shifts, his cock presses against Duo’s hole, then with barely any effort, sinks into Duo. Filling him. Completing him. When he’s buried to the hilt—finally, finally—Duo comes again, though he’s so wrung out, that barely any spend escapes him. That’s fine. That’s not what he needs. He pulls Heero down again to kiss him hard, bruising lips, chasing his own taste in Heero’s mouth, and moves with Heero as he fucks into him properly until they both come, Duo screaming into Heero’s mouth, and Heero swallowing them down as if he could feast on them.
Duo has a vague sense of being wrapped up and carried, and Heero must have, because he wakes the next morning in their bed, but he doesn’t really remember anything after Heero finally coming in him. However, when he does wake up, it’s with Heero’s head on his chest, his hand stroking on the barely perceptible swell of his belly, over the conception mark that is now the deep, rich hue of a stable, healthy pregnancy.
“You’re a wonder,” Heero breathes out, barely a whisper in the early morning quiet.
Having no answer for that, Duo remains silent.