[Dedue is surprised by how quickly he has made friends, and how quickly those friendships have opened themselves up into deeper connections. Without the misconceptions of Duscur following him around here, people have been much quicker to call him a friend, and that has been... Nice, if incredibly strange.
But he meant it when he said he would shirk all others if it meant he could have Dimitri.
He nods. Dimitri says of course he is entitled to such a thing, and it makes no sense. He can't wrap his head around any of this, until—
Dimitri hugs him, and there's a wave of relief that washes through him. Dedue instinctively wraps his arms over his liege, feeling that age-old desire to protect him from the world, from every hurt that could befall his heart. Their imprint sinks in, but he knows that even without it, this would feel so... Right.
As Dimitri looks up at him, the gaze of that icy blue eye into his own is so bright he can barely meet it, like looking directly into the sun. Dimitri is so beautiful that his heart breaks, even as they hold each other and confess their love.
He ducks his head to press their foreheads together, and closes his eyes.]
Don't speak. [More words will not help them understand. But for good measure:]
I love you, Dimitri. I always have, and I always will, until the day I die, and into the afterlife.
[It's a promise that is easy to make. Since they met, he has imagined his grave next to Dimitri's.
He cups the side of Dimitri's face and presses their lips together firmly. He cannot believe he is doing this, and yet, he must.]
[Dimitri clings to Dedue, but even more so he holds onto the calming, safe feeling of the imprint that washes over him. He nods when Dedue tells him not to speak. It is easier that way, isn't it? Even if they now, honestly, have far too much to talk about.
There's something about the way Dedue looks at him that makes his face feel flush and something in his chest flutter. But it's so easy to lean forward to press his forehead against Dedue's, the two of them sharing the same breath.
He pulls back, disbelief flickering across his face. Those pesky questions and that pesky doubt is back, but Dedue does the best thing he could've done and guides him into a kiss. Any thoughts or doubts are washed away, there's only him and Dedue and the feeling of their lips pressed together. He parts his lips slightly, tilting his head so their mouths can better fit together. Making a soft sound into the kiss, his hand shifts higher on his chest, fingers curling gently into his shirt. He'd thought about kissing before, but nothing could have prepared him for how wonderful kissing Dedue was.]
[He cannot believe this is happening, and yet, it is. Dimitri, rather than freezing or pulling away or stammering awkwardly, is actually kissing him back, deepening it, and hanging on to him. His liege makes a sound so soft and sweet it swells Dedue's heart incomprehensibly and stirs desire in his gut.
Dimitri. The beautiful, lovely, handsome, sweet, troubled prince. Blonde and fair, blue-eyed and tall, muscular and pretty enough for every schoolgirl in Faerghus to have dreamt of him at one point or another. For this and a multitude of other reasons, Dedue always thought he was completely off-limits.
And now the prince is kissing the man of Duscur.
He is now deeply relieved he declined Tighnari's request to kiss him. At the time, it had seemed somewhat foolish to save himself for someone who likely didn't return his feelings at all, but now he is glad he did, because it means Dimitri is his first kiss, and that is the way it should be. He wraps his arms around him further, hands splayed out to stretch across his back and ribcage and hold him securely, partly afraid he will change his mind and pull away, and partly just wanting to communicate how much he wants this. The prince's lips are so tender that it hurts somehow. How many times had he looked at his gentle mouth and longed to feel it against his skin? For years, he denied himself this, when perhaps he could have had it all along.
It's not worth thinking about right now. He deepens the kiss by parting his lips in turn, pressing them harder against Dimitri's, his cheeks flushed and hot with the overwhelm of this. He isn't quite sure how kissing is meant to work, he only knows how badly he wants this. Dedue's fingers press somewhat urgently into his sides and back.]
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But he meant it when he said he would shirk all others if it meant he could have Dimitri.
He nods. Dimitri says of course he is entitled to such a thing, and it makes no sense. He can't wrap his head around any of this, until—
Dimitri hugs him, and there's a wave of relief that washes through him. Dedue instinctively wraps his arms over his liege, feeling that age-old desire to protect him from the world, from every hurt that could befall his heart. Their imprint sinks in, but he knows that even without it, this would feel so... Right.
As Dimitri looks up at him, the gaze of that icy blue eye into his own is so bright he can barely meet it, like looking directly into the sun. Dimitri is so beautiful that his heart breaks, even as they hold each other and confess their love.
He ducks his head to press their foreheads together, and closes his eyes.]
Don't speak. [More words will not help them understand. But for good measure:]
I love you, Dimitri. I always have, and I always will, until the day I die, and into the afterlife.
[It's a promise that is easy to make. Since they met, he has imagined his grave next to Dimitri's.
He cups the side of Dimitri's face and presses their lips together firmly. He cannot believe he is doing this, and yet, he must.]
no subject
There's something about the way Dedue looks at him that makes his face feel flush and something in his chest flutter. But it's so easy to lean forward to press his forehead against Dedue's, the two of them sharing the same breath.
He pulls back, disbelief flickering across his face. Those pesky questions and that pesky doubt is back, but Dedue does the best thing he could've done and guides him into a kiss. Any thoughts or doubts are washed away, there's only him and Dedue and the feeling of their lips pressed together. He parts his lips slightly, tilting his head so their mouths can better fit together. Making a soft sound into the kiss, his hand shifts higher on his chest, fingers curling gently into his shirt. He'd thought about kissing before, but nothing could have prepared him for how wonderful kissing Dedue was.]
no subject
Dimitri. The beautiful, lovely, handsome, sweet, troubled prince. Blonde and fair, blue-eyed and tall, muscular and pretty enough for every schoolgirl in Faerghus to have dreamt of him at one point or another. For this and a multitude of other reasons, Dedue always thought he was completely off-limits.
And now the prince is kissing the man of Duscur.
He is now deeply relieved he declined Tighnari's request to kiss him. At the time, it had seemed somewhat foolish to save himself for someone who likely didn't return his feelings at all, but now he is glad he did, because it means Dimitri is his first kiss, and that is the way it should be. He wraps his arms around him further, hands splayed out to stretch across his back and ribcage and hold him securely, partly afraid he will change his mind and pull away, and partly just wanting to communicate how much he wants this. The prince's lips are so tender that it hurts somehow. How many times had he looked at his gentle mouth and longed to feel it against his skin? For years, he denied himself this, when perhaps he could have had it all along.
It's not worth thinking about right now. He deepens the kiss by parting his lips in turn, pressing them harder against Dimitri's, his cheeks flushed and hot with the overwhelm of this. He isn't quite sure how kissing is meant to work, he only knows how badly he wants this. Dedue's fingers press somewhat urgently into his sides and back.]