you’re beautiful [ao3]
pairing DBrDom
words 913
summary There were some things Doom Bringer and Dominator couldn’t see eye to eye on. Mundane, ordinary things such as whether cake with frosting was too sweet, or if coffee best served black or with cream and sugar, or even something so simple but personalized as the taste of their clothes. Little trivial differences that Doom Bringer could overlook. Things one would agree to disagree about.
note inspired by dbreater (@ twitter)’s work (link here)! with permission to post! :> thank you for the lovely add comics!
There were some things Doom Bringer and Dominator couldn’t see eye to eye on. Mundane, ordinary things such as whether cake with frosting was too sweet, or if coffee best served black or with cream and sugar, or even something so simple but personalized as the taste of their clothes. Little trivial differences that Doom Bringer could overlook. Things one would agree to disagree about.
But there was always the touchy topic of their scar.
When Doom Bringer ripped his shackles off, a brilliant and defiant show of his unadulterated freedom that he obtained for himself, Dominator had looked at him with such disdain. They had even fought about it, at first. But this was one topic they’d refuse to let go. Both too stubborn to understand the other at the time.
“It’s an eyesore, Psyker. Maybe it looks good on you,” and there was an unsaid brute such as yourself that Dominator did not tack on as he continued, “but I won’t subject myself to something so imperfect. I look in the mirror and—it’s ugly.” And he would tug his turtleneck up, anything to hide the scar.
They’d argue so much after.
But with time, they would come to try to understand one another. They had to, to move forward from this.
But Dominator would of course still do all he could to hide the scar.
And Doom Bringer let him have that. After all, Dominator didn’t force him to change his stance on this and neither would he. Still, he couldn't help himself sometimes…
It was morning, and Doom Bringer was setting up the coffee for everyone, and for one particular caffeine fiend. He blinked the sleepiness from his eyes as he started the machine, opting for a glass of water himself. Leaning back against the counter, he took absentminded little sips and waited.
Soon, Dominator waltzed in, flashing Doom Bringer a smile and greeting as he took a seat and went back to pouring over data on screens.
“Don’t bring your work to the table,” he muttered. “‘s rude, you know.”
“Yes dear,” Dominator mumbled back, distracted, not once taking his eyes away from the screens before him.
The brawler simply scoffed, shaking his head because he knew the other definitely didn’t hear him, head too wrapped around numbers and formulas as it were. He went about setting up the coffee just as Dominator liked, pulling out their matching mugs and then dumping excessive creamer in Dominator’s, and then followed up by way too much sugar. He made a face as the last sugar cube went in, wondering how Dominator could consume this much sugar and still taste any of the coffee. As he mindlessly counted the amount of sugar the scientist consumed daily, he walked back over, one cup for himself and one for Dominator in hand but stopped mid step to see Dominator was fiddling with the turtleneck.
It was a habit he had formed, Doom Bringer had noticed. He never meant anything by it, but it was subconscious in nature.
Even so, it still bothered him.
Wordlessly, he resumed his pace to the table and sat the mugs down, eyes fixed on Dominator’s neck still. He quietly nudged Dominator’s mug to him.
“Oh, was it already ready? I could definitely use—hmm?” Dominator stopped, finally feeling Doom Bringer’s eyes on him, “Psyker?”
Upon hearing his name like that, he walked over, one hand on the table for support, and the other tugging Dominator gently by the cuff of his turtleneck, pulling the offending article down just enough so he could reach his goal. Once the scar was free, he laid his lips upon Dominator’s neck, almost reverent in nature with how terribly soft he kissed him there. Doom Bringer pulled back, but only just barely, eyes closed, then fixed Dominator with a look so full of emotion, he could feel it stir in his heart. “My love, you’re beautiful.”
Dominator’s eyebrows shot up and his eyes were wide, face already dusted light pink, blushing. “Psyker… ?”
Again, Doom Bringer went back in, lips feather light, barely there as he kissed the spot again.
Dominator gasped audibly, eyes flying shut again, “P-Psyk?” Dominator was putty, head tipped back so the other man could have all the space he wanted.
And at that invitation, the brawler didn’t pull back, he kissed all along the scar, from side to side and top to bottom. Then his kisses trailed about aimlessly, kissing wherever his lips deemed fit, any of Dominator’s skin was fair game. Doom Bringer continued worshiping the area, unable to help himself. How dare Dominator ever think any part of him was ugly. He would kiss him again and again and again until he knew just how beautiful he saw him.
“You are beautiful, Dominator” Doom Bringer said again, lips tracing the words this time along his neck. He was unsure of how long he stayed at Dominator’s neck like that. Minutes. Seconds. Finally. he drew back, but hardly space was left between them, and he rested his forehead against Dominator’s, fixing his eyes on Dominator’s heavy lidded ones.
“Psyk,” Dominator whispered so softly, were it not for how close they were, he certainly would have missed it. He seemed at a loss, unsure of what to say next. So instead he smiled, as tender as Doom Bringer’s kisses across his skin, “Thank you.” And he leaned forward, slotting his lips against his.
And Doom Bringer met him halfway.
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