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It was a quiet morning for once, and Olivert and Mueller were sitting together on a comfortable couch, waking up, Mueller reading the news.
"You are so beautiful," Olivier sighed, leaning in towards Mueller, gently stroking the man's pale cheek with one hand, the other pressed against his own chest to steady his aching heartbeat. "Do you know that? You really, really are."
The brunette closed his eyes with a small groan. "Olivier," he protested, "do you really have to say these kinds of things?"
"I do," the prince said, looking up at Mueller with honest, overflowing affection that still made the officer's stomach dance with butterflies somehow even now. "It is my duty as a Hunter of Love to--"
"Olivier," Mueller warned.
Olivier sighed. "Okay, fine. All that aside, yes, I do have to. It would be a crime for one as beautiful as you to go without someone properly worshipping their great beauty." He tilted his head to the side and pressed a chaste kiss to Mueller's cheek, then nuzzled up against his neck, curling up against his side, touching his chest.
Mueller flushed, feeling self-conscious. "I'm a thirty year old military officer, Olivier," he grumbled.
"Yes," the prince smiled, "and you are the most beautiful man I have ever laid eyes on." He kissed his neck, gently, then a second time with a light little suck, running his hands up Mueller's broad, muscular chest and onto his shoulders. He looked up at his face - the man looked horribly embarrassed, averting his eyes before scowling at him, face beet red.
"Please," Mueller groaned, covering his forehead with a hand.
"You're going to have to get used to this," Olivier said gently. "I've spent years unable to truly express my love for you. I'm going to be taking every single chance that I can get from now on."
The brunette grimaced, dropping his hand to his side, then let out a small breath. "Do you have to use words?"
The prince smiled, scanning his embarrassed face. "Not exclusively, no," he said with a tone of amusement, then kissed him, Mueller relaxing a bit as he did. The kiss was slow and affectionate, not deep but certainly not chaste either. One of Mueller's hands found its way to Olivier's waist at some point and the prince answered this by caressing his cheek as they kissed, fingers moving over his ear and into the soft, neatly trimmed hair at the back of his neck. Mueller shivered at the touch, Olivier could feel it, and he broke the kiss for air, eyes catching on Mueller's lips as he caught his breath.
"I love you," he confessed once more, looking into clear blue eyes that softened ever so slightly at his words.
Mueller's reply was simply to kiss him, holding his head in his hands, morning newspaper dropped to the ground and forgotten.