Work Text:
There was something…wrong, Klavier realized suddenly, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. The sweat pearling up on the sides of his face, the faint tremble in his adorable antennae, the flush darkening on his face… Apollo was scared, if he had to put a word to it.
He made a mental checklist in his head.
Their relationship was fine, if not a little awkward, still. A few disastrous dates had done little to disrupt them (wouldn’t the tabloids be glad to know that his mysterious “sabbatical” a few months ago was caused by a seafood allergy he hadn’t even known he had? Or that Apollo’s mysterious black eye during a fairly famous trial was caused by both of them trying to open a car door at the same time?). And, really, as of late, their “business lunches” had gone fine. He’d learned so much about his beloved Apollo, including an indulgence for rich cheesecake and freshly made bread with a bit of olive oil. And Apollo seemed happy, even if they occasionally shook the walls during an argument (it was more a problem of forgetting their “indoor voices” than one of anger, really, he’d explained to the neighbors). In fact, the last thing they argued over was whether Phoenix Wright or Miles Edgeworth had had the better run in their court days, and that was more playful than anything.
No, he and Apollo were…really good together. Both of them were intelligent and quick-witted, and even if they had tiny differences — like Apollo’s aversion to loud music or his own lingering attachments to his brother — they got along wonderfully. There was nothing he found more calming than simply sitting near Apollo. To his chagrin, he’d even managed to fall asleep in Apollo’s lap on late night at the office. It was all lovey-dovey and happy like those sugary American pop songs he competed with…but it was true.
They’d managed to keep the relationship fairly well hidden from the media. But, no, Apollo wouldn’t be mad about that — their friends and coworkers knew. Hell, even Kristoph knew, and his mild, subtle insults were the closet thing to disapproval they had. Fräulein Trucy baked them a magical cake herself.
And so, Klavier was forced to think about the…physical aspects of their relationship. Honestly, he preferred not to. He hadn’t thought he’d ever feel ashamed of some of the….indiscretions of his younger days. But Apollo was so…pure. So virginal. So he’s always held back. Even when their first shaky kisses turned deep, he waited until Apollo’s lips shyly opened against his own and a tongue peeked out. After that, sure, he’d ravaged the attorney’s mouth and left him senseless on the couch…maybe he went too far that time, but, still, he was holding back. He’d kept his wandering hands still (mostly) and his kisses (relatively) chaste while they were dating, and even now….
…they still hadn’t had sex. And now Apollo was looking at him with those nervous eyes when they were barely fooling around on the couch. It was maddening.
Asking? Out of the question. Apollo would make up some excuse and flee. Klavier wanted to sigh, but he didn’t need Apollo feeling any more down. He could get rid of the obvious. Trauma? Not by the way Apollo reacted. No, if anything, Apollo was a creature of barely constrained instinct, and when they were playing around, he reacted. He wanted. At least until his brain caught up with him. So it definitely wasn’t a lack of desire. He wasn’t playing coy, either. Maybe it bothered him that they were both guys? No, that was foolish. Klavier swore mentally. The stress was getting to him, if he was falling back into those old traps.
But…what? They’d been kissing, wet and eager mouths crushing against each other, tongues playing ferociously. He’d pushed Apollo down against the soft couch, fingers tangling in his shorter hair, barely breathing. His free hand was squeezing Apollo’s hand, moving up his clothed arm, down his chest, flirting with hard nipples and making Apollo gasp against their kiss. All fine. And then he’d moved to touch that delicious bit of stomach peeking out from a shirt that was riding up…
That was when Apollo had frozen, eyes going wide like a deer in the headlights.
Something about his stomach, then? “Apollo,” he murmurs softly, comfortingly. “You alright?”
Apollo nods at him, turning faintly red. “S-sorry, Klavier,” he says, “I…I just…”
“It’s alright.” He flashes that winning smile, and Apollo leans forward to kiss him again. ‘Sorry, Apollo,’ he thinks, feeling those gorgeous lips on his. ‘Sorry that I’m going to do this again.’ Slowly, he pulls one arm around Apollo’s waist, but only he knows that, more than an embrace, he’s planning a trap. He kisses Apollo guiltily, the eagerness of his mouth suddenly torturous.
Apollo starts to pull away, sensing, with that impeccable sense of his, that something is wrong. But Klavier’s hand is already poised to strike…right under that pretty white shirt. Apollo gives a rather unmanly squeak when long fingers suddenly attack his soft belly. He’s not sure what he’s looking for but…
Before Apollo manages to squirm away, he feels the familiar line of a scar.
Apollo is looking at him, a mixture of anger and… “Shit,” Klavier swears under his breath. Apollo’s eyes are watery, and he’s looking at the ground. “Apollo…I didn’t mean…”
“It’s not you,” Apollo sniffs.
“Apollo,” Klavier says again, and he grabs the attorney up against him. “That scar…it’s not…?” He can’t decide which crazy theory he should say aloud. A million scenarios, all terrible, running through his head…
“Hmm? Oh, that,” Apollo says, smiling ruefully. “Appendix scar. They said it would go away, but I guess it’s still there.”
Klavier lets out a breath, then a laugh. “I’m glad,” he says, and when Apollo looks at him questioningly, he continues, “Kri…my brother…you’ve seen his hand, ja?” Apollo blinks and nods. “It…is not a good story,” he finishes lamely. “I thought, for a moment…”
“I’m sorry,” Apollo says. He braces himself for a moment. “I’m sorry, it…it’s…so stupid!” He shouts suddenly.
“I won’t laugh,” Klavier says.
“I know…it’s just…stupid.” Apollo is petulant, like a kid, but it’s endearing enough to calm the last racing beats of Klavier’s heart. Apollo’s hands draw up against either side of his face, trembling against skin and hair. “You’re…beautiful,” he says, but his smile is tinged with sadness.
Oh, oh no. No way. “Apollo,” Klavier starts to say, “Tell me, you don’t…”
“I don’t think I’m ugly,” Apollo says, “…just plain.” He stops Klavier from replying to the outrageous claim. “And I don’t mind it. I don’t think I could handle being like you. I just…”
“Apollo…” Klavier wants to say something more profound than just the name. Maybe something like, ‘please, God, I fell in love with you to get away from the fangirls falling all over me,’ or ‘I think you’re the most beautiful creature in the world.’
“I’m glad you’re beautiful,” Apollo is continuing. “I mean…I love your hair, and it would look silly on me to be that long. And your skin is so soft and pretty, and…I love it when I see you in the magazines. Even the…the sexy ones.” He turns a little red.
Wait…magazines? Klavier almost laughs at loud. He grabs Apollo’s hand and guides it to his back. Apollo looks terribly red, but…ah, there. “Feel those?” he says. He knows them all too well, the small, round scars. Ugly little things. “From chickenpox, when I was young.” He lifts his shirt up a bit, feeling Apollo’s eyes on him. “Pimples, too, from drinking too much soda at lunch.” He moves to his leg next, pulling at the pants. “You see that?” he asks, and Apollo’s eyes go wide. “I broke my ankle on tour once. It’s still a bit crooked.”
“I…I never saw…” Apollo starts to say, his eyes adorably cross-eyed as he stares.
“Really, Forehead” — he slips back to the old nickname easily — “If you wanted to see, you could have asked,” he teases gently. “Those magazines…do you know how long you spend in make-up? And at the end,” — he can barely contain a laugh — “it’s Photoshop, ja?” At Apollo’s incredulous look, he finally bursts into laughter. “Have you ever looked at yourself in those magazines, Apollo?” Apollo slowly shakes his head. “I might have some.”
He grabs Apollo’s hand (and the way Apollo squeezes back still makes his heart race) and drags him off to the bedroom. He’s not ashamed to say he has more than a few of the magazines featuring Ace Attorney Apollo Justice (some from before they even met, in fact). If anything, he’s only a little sad that he’s never had the same opportunity to look at Apollo in “the sexy ones.” He sniggers. Maybe they could have a private photoshoot later.
Apollo’s eyes widen even further as he pulls them out, issue after issue, headlines blaring everything from the mundane (“Justice triumphs again” reads one rather terrible headline) to the laughable (“Justice and the mysterious date! Couple seen exiting Wonder Bar” from a rather notorious tabloid. Maybe he should start warning Fräulein Trucy to use Mr. Hat…or, perhaps not, he thinks, imagining “Justice in a steamy three-way!” headlines). For such a famous lawyer, Apollo was remarkably unaware of his own popularity.
He finally finds it. A handsome, glossy news magazine, boasting an exclusive interview with the star of the new jury system. Apollo gasps as he opens up the full page print of some picture taken in the courtroom. It’s really a gorgeous picture, one Klavier has looked at many times since that very case. True, part of it was the skill of the photographer managing to catch Apollo mid-objection, fierce eyes blazing, sweat flying. But surely even Apollo realizes his eyes aren’t quite that bright, or his skin quite that milk-white and pristine. And that lovely halo of light reflecting off his hair…that’s just making it too obvious.
Even if that is how Klavier sees him.
“I think you look very beautiful, Apollo,” he says, and Apollo shivers at the possessiveness in his voice. He leans over to kiss that long, pretty neck. He can feel the shivers, this time, feel the dull thud of blood and taste the nervous sweat. “So beautiful… Let me show you?”
Apollo nods, and he willingly lets Klavier push him down against the soft comforter of his bed. He looks around nervously for a moment before relaxing against the blankets. He’s quiet, but the way he moves, easily allowing Klavier access to his throat, the juncture of his shoulder, is so drop dead sexy Klavier loses his breath for a moment. It’s getting hot, and he moves to shrug off his shirt. Apollo’s eyes go impossibly wide.
Well, Klavier never said he wasn’t beautiful. He does have a nice, toned body, maybe a bit on the skinny side. Apollo’s hand shyly reaches towards him and hesitates before gently pressing against the smooth flesh of a pectoral, feeling the heartbeat. When he starts to move, rubbing gently, Klavier moans, startling him, making him smile, urging him towards a flat nipple.
He’s slow, agonizingly, beautifully slow. Soft. Careful, as if he would break like fine china. When Klavier’s hands move to Apollo’s shirt, he stills, but lets Klavier slowly pull it up and over his head. His eyes are closed, but he doesn’t move to cover himself, or stop Klavier’s eyes from wandering the darker, more tanned flesh, the soft belly, a little rounder than his, the faint scar at the edge of his stomach. Soft, but with a masculine, muscular physique beneath. His skin is rough in places, and some hairs stick out in odd directions. He could stand to get a little more in shape, but, then again, who couldn’t?
“Beautiful,” he breathes. The word is feminine, exaggerated, far too intense. But he feels it’s the only one that will reach Apollo’s ears. He teases at a round little belly-button until Apollo giggles. Klavier smiles up at him. Finally, their eyes meet. “Beautiful,” he says again, and Apollo just rolls his eyes.
“Alright,” he says in resignation. “I get it, I get it.” But Klavier doesn’t miss the tiny smile and the faint blush.
Klavier moves to kiss more of the soft belly. He would never call Apollo fat. Not even a little tubby. But the flesh is still soft — hardly the male dream of rippling muscles. Maybe this embarrasses him…? His tongue traces the thin, almost white scar, barely visible to his eyes but still there. Appendix, huh? He strokes up against Apollo’s sides, drawing a hoarse laugh, and finally settles on a pair of dark tan nipples. Apollo’s groans are delightful — sharp and startled, then low and deep. It’s fun to play with them, pinching them til they’re hard and sucking them in his mouth.
Apollo’s fingers move to his hair. He said that before: ‘I love your long hair; it wouldn’t look good on me.’ He nudges his head forward, urging Apollo’s fingers on. His carefully tended and gelled hair is going to be a tangle by the next morning, but Apollo’s fingers make him shiver in delight. The feeling of fingers — Apollo’s fingers — in his hair is the best feeling. Just the thought of Apollo’s hands twisting against his head during sex…
He stops, probably too suddenly from the way Apollo is looking at him. “How far?” he asks, suddenly aware that is careful restraint is starting to break.
“Everything,” Apollo says, before he lunges forward for a devouring kiss. His hands are suddenly bold, gripping against his back, the flat, bony blades of his shoulders, the curve of his spine. He moans appreciatively, letting Apollo do as he wants, finding harder, faster motions. Apollo’s lips are a little rough, chapped against his skin, but it feels incredible. Soon Apollo is sizing up his chest, the lines of muscle, the erect nipples. Tentatively, he takes one into his mouth, rubbing his lips against the eager flesh, finding his balance of kissing and licking, just as he had on their first tentative kisses.
“Mmm, use your teeth. Carefully, ja?” Klavier whispers. He wants Apollo to tell him what to do, so he sets an example. And when Apollo’s teeth first scratch against is already aching nipples, his pants are suddenly far too tight. Does Apollo even know how wild he’s driving him?
Everything, Apollo says. At this rate, they’ll barely make it past foreplay.
Though maybe that’s not so bad.
It’s awfully hard to make decisions with Apollo’s mouth doing wicked things like that, and the devilish, self-satisfied smile he’s making at each gasp, each moan. If Klavier had to read anything in to that smile, it might be, ‘you may have the perfect body, but I’m the one who makes it scream.’ But if it got Apollo’s confidence back up…and made him keep up that delicious sucking…
He waits for Apollo’s teeth to be clear of his skin before he makes a move towards Apollo’s groin, counting on the fact that the attorney has to be as hard as he is. Apollo’s low whine, the swift thrust against his fingers, and the delicious handful of that stiff flesh in his grasp confirm his suspicions. Hardly subtle, but it gets his point across.
“You must be beautiful down here, too, ja?” he whispered slinkily, and Apollo tried vainly to give him a mock-glare. But he falls against Klavier’s chest as Klavier begins to move his hand, even with the fabric of the pants between them. He can still feel the heat, the pulse… it’s difficult to let go long enough to fumble with the belt (why was the belt even still on?) and the zipper, then Apollo’s desperately thrashing legs as he tried to kick the pants off and rub himself against Klavier at the same time. White briefs are kicked off with surprising ease, given how embarrassed Apollo was before.
Ah, Klavier thinks, who knew the solution to body image and self-esteem was regular, passionate sex? He should sell that to the magazines the next time they ask for an interview.
Klavier is soon struggling to undo his own pants. He, fortunately, doesn’t have the problem of underwear, just a slinky bit of stretchy, black fabric that barely counted as a thong. Apollo’s hot gaze is as intoxicating as alcohol.
Apollo’s vicious little mouth is devouring his again, their bodies writhing together. For a moment, Klavier almost regrets that they won’t even make it to sex, but the animal thrusting between them is too much, too good for him to discount it. It’s far more than enough…and they will always have time later.
Apollo swallows up their passionate cries, and, after a moment, they collapse against the bed together.
Klavier is first to speak. “Ach, Apollo…You didn’t even let me finish reassuring you.” A soft laugh. “I’ve not even gotten to see your back, your legs…” His eyes drift downwards to the handsome organ between Apollo’s legs, the soft hair and the white, still-wet cream sticking against his stomach. “Not even this pretty thing,” he says with a smirk, moving to stroke a long finger along the length.
Apollo only grins at him, catlike, barely moving. “I see they didn’t Photoshop that,” he says pointedly.
“Now, where in the world would you find those kinds of pictures, Apollo?” Klavier chuckled, moving to get a warm cloth to clean them up.
“Your fansites are pretty interesting,” he hears behind him.
“All the pictures are fake, I swear,” Klavier replies. “Unless I was drunk…” Actually, now that he thinks about it…
He makes it back to the bed, and shoos Apollo over so he can pull back the blankets. Apollo moves off, grumbling. He cleans himself off, and then runs the soft cloth against Apollo’s skin, stealing a quick kiss. He’s surprisingly tired…for now, at least.
Apollo falls into his bed easily, and their bodies are close…not much different from how they’ve slept together before, except, well, the nakedness and the post-sex high. “You don’t really think I…” Klavier starts to say, but it’s hard to force the words out. “I’m so much better than you?”
Apollo smiles. “You can be intimidating, Herr Rock star.” He lies on his back, stretching, staring at the ceiling. “I mean…you’re the pretty one. Everyone loves you. And me…I’m just me.”
“They love their images of me,” Klavier said. He moves to look upwards as well. Just the two of them, lying in bed. There’s an odd note in his voice. Bitterness, perhaps?
“I love you, Klavier.”
Klavier’s eyes blur for a moment, even if he doesn’t acknowledge it. “Forgive me if I love you as well, Forehead, no matter how plain you claim to be.”
That shy smile again, the one he tries to hide whenever Klavier compliments him, not matter how foolishly. Apollo sits up and leans over him, resting on his arms. “Well…you might be the beautiful one, Klavier, but at least I win in court.”
“For now, Forehead, for now,” Klavier mumbles. You’d think they’d be tired of kissing by now.
Actually, you’d think they’d just be tired by now. So why is Apollo making him so hot again?
All he’d wanted to do was make Apollo happy. As Apollo’s hand starts to creep along his leg, he sighs, just a little. Who knew he’d end up unleashing such a monster?
Still, the thought of getting to take a more, ahem, in-depth look at Apollo’s gorgeous body….kissing his way up pretty, splayed thighs and jutting hip bones, squeezing every inch of that delectable backside, learning every scar and mole and sensitive area until he was quite sure Apollo wasn’t just saying what he wanted to hear….until Apollo really, truly believed him every time he said “beautiful”…
Mmm, they could take a vacation together, maybe. Spend some of this newly-discovered energy on a private honeymoon. Then he’d have plenty of time to convince Apollo of his attributes. What was it they said here? Rabbits. Something about how rabbits mated. Constantly, perhaps? That sounded good, he thought. Rabbits and cats. Cat baths.
Klavier yelped as Apollo’s hand closed over his groin, startling him from his dreamy thoughts. The faint tremble in Apollo’s hand betrayed his nervousness. Hmm, why wait, Klavier thought. It would definitely take them some…time…to get back to where they were before. “Mmm, Apollo, what would you say if I told you I wanted to peruse your beautiful body a little longer?”
“I wouldn’t mind,” Apollo replied breathily.
“Hmm, where to start?” Klavier murmured, pleased at the deep gulp Apollo took to steady himself. “Maybe at the top, with those strong shoulders? Or down at your toes?” Apollo looked at him in surprise. “Ah, don’t tell me you’ve never had a foot massage? It can be very relaxing…” Apollo gulped again, but smiled.
Oh, no. A lifetime of reassurance didn’t look bad at all.