#it isnt stated but they use they/them pronouns cause i cant use he for rogue anymore

[thedarkgodmogar]

Intimacy

Hi I wrote a fic that took all fucking month please read it. Here’s the ao3 link.

Rating: Explicit

Warning: it’s trans sting so theres some mentions of dysphoria and other trans-related issues

Rogue helps Sting realize he’s not broken, and overcome his issues with intimacy.

Sting’s never been good with intimacy. He wishes he was; he wants to be good with it. Sometimes he dreams about it: cuddling on the couch, holding hands while walking down the street, touching himself and his partner without fear. He loves the idea of intimacy. But he hates himself too much to go through with it.

Him and Rogue have been officially dating for six months. Honestly, not a whole lot has changed. They’ve lived together since they were children, slept in the same bed, and always told each other everything. Rogue was the first person Sting came out to, even if it was more out of necessity, since Rogue had seen him naked. They would have let it go if Sting wasn’t ready to say anything, but still. Sting owed them some kind of explanation. They trust each other with everything.

But for some reason, Sting can’t trust them with this.

They’re sitting on the couch, movie playing forgotten on their lacrima TV, and they’re kissing. This, Sting is fine with. He loves kissing. He loves Rogue’s hand in his hair, loves the way Rogue laughs when Sting’s stubble tickles their chin, loves the way it makes him feel warm and fuzzy down to his toes.

It’s when Rogue moans and accidentally rubs against his thigh that Sting tenses up.

Rogue must notice. They pull back, looking at Sting with a mix of confusion and concern, “Sting…? Everything ok?”

Sting nods quickly, the words coming out too fast to be convincing, “Yup! Yea! Totally fine!”

Rogue gives him one of their expasterated don’t lie to me looks. Sting suddenly becomes fascinated with a stain on the couch. Maybe Rogue spilled some wine at some point- it’s red and kinda circular but not enough to look purposeful-

“Sting.” A soft hand cups his cheek, Rogue’s voice equally soft and soothing. “Talk to me, love.”

Sting can’t help but press into the touch. Everything about Rogue is calming; they’ve always shined like a lighthouse in the stormy sea of life. Sting knows he can tell them anything without judgement or ridicule.

But still, Sting stammers, struggling to sort his fears into words, “I...I don’t… I know you...want me but I, uh…”

Rogue tries to keep their face neutral, purely a listener, but Sting sees the flash of hurt in their eyes. “You don’t want me?” “No! No that’s not it,” Sting says quickly. He grabs Rogue’s hands, holding them tight. “I do want you, Rogue. I want you more than anything. I love… I love cuddling with you and kissing you and holding your hand and just being with you but…” He blushes, nodding down to the part of Rogue that was just grinding against his leg. “I don’t know if I can...do that…”

Sting isn’t really sure if Rogue understood- he hopes they did. He doesn’t really want to go further into it right now in fear of spiraling into a hateful hole of dysphoria. Luckily Rogue’s face turns bright red and they look down at themselves sheepily.

“Ah…” they clear their throat, “W-Well I… I didn’t mean to… pressure you into anything. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, or aren’t ready for. But I...must admit I’m a little confused.”

Sting tilts his head, “Confused?”

Rogue nods. They’re blushing furiously now- it’s fucking adorable. “I just… thought maybe this might be something you want. You’ve been...doing stuff in your sleep.”

Sting’s eyes widen, face red as a tomato. He has no doubt he looks like a fish with his mouth opening and closing, struggling to form words.

Rogue’s not wrong. Sting’s been incredibly sexually frustrated lately, and it doesn’t help that Rogue likes to go shirtless around the house in the summer with that damn ponytail. Unable to do anything about it while awake, all that frustration has manifested itself in his dreams. Almost every night he has a dream about Rogue touching him, or vice versa. He’ll have a dream where Rogue fucks him into the mattress, whispering all kinds of lewd things in his ear, then wake up wet and uncomfortable and hating himself.

It’s easier in dreams. He doesn’t have the wrong body in his dreams.

Sting’s decided he really doesn’t want to have this conversation anymore. He’s about to get up and hide out somewhere when Rogue grabs his wrist. “Sting, wait!”

Sting has half a mind to pull away from Rogue and keep walking, but he’s never been able to do that in his life and he’s not going to start now. Especially not when Rogue sounds so frantic.

“If this is about your body, you know I don’t care about that,” Rogue says, “I don’t care what parts you have or don’t have. All I care about is you-”

“I care!” Sting whirls around to face Rogue, face red and splotchy with the effort of holding back tears. “I care, Rogue! I know we’ve seen each other naked and you think it’s not a big deal but it is! This-” he gestures to himself, “isn’t me! I can’t do anything a regular guy can do! I don’t…”

Rogue suddenly pulls Sting into a tight, bone-crushing hug. Sting sinks into it immediately, Rogue’s arms a barrier of comfort and warmth against his insecurities. He knows Rogue’s love is unconditional; all they’ve ever wanted was to make Sting feel loved. But this… there’s so many things that can go wrong with this. Sex and small, casual moments of intimacy are two totally different ball games. Sting can’t lie to himself, he does want it, but he isn’t sure if he can handle it when he’s broken like this.

“I love you, Sting,” Rogue murmurs softly in his ear. “I won’t pressure you into anything. Just know if this is something you want… I’ll give you anything. We can go as fast or as slow as you need, my love. You have always been a man. Having sex won’t change that.”

Their hands rub his back in soothing circles. Sting lets out a shaky breath; Rogue always knows exactly what he’s afraid of, if they hadn’t known each other for so long Sting would think they’re a mind reader.

“Are you sure…?” Sting whispers, because he has to be sure. It’s not only their first time, it’s the first time Sting would let Rogue touch him in a sexual way, the first time anyone-himself included- has touched him. He has to be sure it won’t change the image of the man he sees in Rogue’s eyes- the man he strives to be.

“Yes.” Though there’s still tears in the corner of their eyes, Rogue’s gaze is steady. It calms Sting in a way he almost can’t understand. It wasn’t a dismissive “of course” or “I’m sure.” It was a strong, unarguable yes.

Yes. I will always love you. I will always accept you.

Yes, I can only love you more.

Sting isn’t actually sure who moved first. He thinks it was him. (He’d like to believe it was him, when this is all over and they’re cuddled in bed. He would like to think he was brave enough to move after that.) They’re kissing again, arms wrapped around each other, hands gripping hips and tangling in hair, as if afraid the other might disappear and their touch was the only thing holding them there. Despite the desperation in their hands, the kiss is soft, questioning, treading waters yet unexplored.

Rogue moans and grinds against Sting, and this time he lets them. In fact, Sting grinds right back, moaning in surprise at the jolt of heat that spears through his belly.

Rogue pulls back for one agonizing second, and Sting whines, trying to chase after their lips. Rogue laughs and gently puts a hand on his face to hold him back.

“Shhh, love. Bed.”

“Oh...Oh right!” Sting grins sheepishly and takes Rogue back into their bedroom, Rogue refusing to let go of his hand the whole time.

Once the door closes behind them, it’s as if the whole atmosphere changes. Sting’s palms start sweating, hands shaking, heart beating a mile a minute. It’s the same as the day he officially took over as guild master- that feeling of the world sitting on his shoulders. What if he messes this up? What if he isn’t any good? What if Rogue hates it or they see him with his clothes off and change their mind-

“Sunshine?” Rogue’s calm voice penetrates through his anxious thoughts. “You’re thinking too much again.”

Sting just laughs nervously, looking down at his bare feet.

A gentle hand tips his chin back up, and Sting sees the loving, patient smile on Rogue’s face. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for. We’re going at your pace. You’re in charge, my love.”

“I hate being in charge,” Sting mumbles.

“But being in charge here doesn’t mean paperwork or meetings,” Rogue chuckles and pulls Sting into another kiss. Sting laughs into the kiss, less nervous and more genuine.

“Seriously,” Rogue continues, “anything you want. If you want me to just touch you, that’s fine. We can touch each other at the same time. If you don’t want to be touched at all… well, I’ll feel a little bad about it, but that’s fine too.”

Sting hides his laugh in Rogue’s shoulder, arms wrapping around their waist, “You’re too giving…”

“No,” Rogue says, kissing Sting’s temple, “You just deserve the world.”

Sting isn’t sure if he believes that, but he knows Rogue does wholeheartedly, and they’ve always been the smart one.

They stand in the middle of the room for a moment, arms wrapped around each other, Rogue offering comfort as Sting thinks. They don’t push or shove or try to rush him, and Sting appreciates that immensely. Honestly, he has no idea what he wants, or where this night is going to lead, but there is something he’s always wanted to try…

“Sit on the bed…?” Sting asks.

Rogue nods, making sure to keep a hand interlocked with Sting’s as they sit on the edge of the bed, looking at him with so much love and patience Sting has trouble breathing for a minute.

Sting takes a deep breath and slowly gets down on his knees in front of Rogue. He isn’t exactly sure what he’s doing, but he’s read a little bit about it, and of course there’s what he’s heard from the older members of the guild. Almost everyone does it at some point; it can’t be that hard, right?

Rogue’s breath hitches when Sting pulls down their sweatpants and boxers, taking their cock in his hand. He tries to mask the uncertainty in his movements as he strokes the shaft. He doesn’t do a great job, apparently.

“Ahh, Sting, like this…” Rogue covers Sting’s hand with their own, showing him what to do until their cock hardens in his hand. “Y-Yea, like that,” they moan, hand falling away.

Sting plays with the head of their cock, fingers moving like Rogue showed him. He watches their face- their skin is flushed a pretty pink, red eyes half-lidded and blown with lust, turning the color even darker, like black raspberries. They’re watching Sting with a heated gaze that sets his skin on fire.

“Rogue, I wanna…” Sting trails off. He isn’t exactly sure how to tell a person hey, I really wanna suck your dick without sounding weird. Not to mention the fact he doesn’t know how to suck dick. Maybe he’s getting too ahead of himself. He should just keep doing this, Rogue seems to enjoy it anyways. Yea, this is fine- “Sting,” Rogue groans, “You’re doing it again.”

Sting blushes, realizes his hand stopped moving, and speeds up again. “S-Sorry…”

Rogue grabs his wrist. “Sting, if you don’t want to do this-”

“I do,” Sting quickly cuts them off. “I do want to do this! I just...dammit. Fuck-” Annoyed at his inability to speak, Sting takes action instead. He drops his hand and licks a hot, messy stripe up Rogue’s cock.

“O-Oh shit-!” Rogue gasps. They have to grip the side of the bed to keep from falling off of it. “S-Sting wait…!”

Sting doesn’t listen, worried that if he stops now he’ll lose all courage. Going off what little knowledge he has, he sucks on the head of their cock, feeling it twitch in his mouth.

A hand buries in Sting’s hair, and they both moan. The air is hot and thick, the smell of sex and sweat filling the room.  Sting’s surprised with how much he likes this- having Rogue’s cock in his mouth, feeling it twitch on his tongue, hearing their moans above him. The pleasured response encourages him. He sucks down more of their cock- only to choke and have to pull back with a cough.

“S-Sting…!” Rogue’s voice fills with concern, their hands coming up to cup his face, “Are you ok?”

Sting nods quickly, though in actuality his throat is burning and his jaw hurts. How the hell is this so difficult? Trying to fit it all in his mouth and keeping his damn teeth out of the way- He hears people talk about it all the time at the guild; did they have such a rough first time too? Or is he just doing this completely wrong?

Rogue’s fingers gently weave through his hair, stroke down his cheek and rub over the soreness in his jaw. “Let’s slow down a bit, ok…? Take it one step at a time.”

“But…” Sting bites his lip, and Rogue pulls him up so they can kiss it.

“Shhh, no buts...unless it’s your butt.”

Sting laughs, “Yea yea, ok.” He wraps his hands back around Rogue’s cock exactly the way they showed him earlier. Their skin burns against his hand, their moans echoing through the room, and when they finally cum their voice is a melodious symphony of ecstasy.

“O-oh...oh Sting…” They gasp and shiver in Sting’s hold. He watches, enraptured with the way Rogue’s face is flushed pink, their mouth open in a soft o, their breathing coming in short pants before slowly evening out as their orgasm subsides.

Beautiful…

Rogue looks down at Sting and there’s so much love in that look it takes Sting’s breath away. A small, fond smile spreads across their face, tipped with post-orgasmic bliss. “I love you…”

Sting blushes, about to answer when Rogue’s smile turns nervous, “Um, Sting… can I…” They chew on their lip- Sting has trouble concentrating on anything else. “Can I...feel free to say no. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want. I just… can I touch you too…?”

There’s a long moment where Sting doesn’t answer. He tries to picture Rogue touching him like that- their hand around his cock, or maybe even their mouth if they wanted. The thought makes him shiver: he wants that.

But when he looks down at himself, he’s reminded he can’t have it. He doesn’t have a dick- or, at least, not one big enough Rogue can put their hand around it. He’s been on hormones for two and a half years now. There’s been a lot of changes and a lot of growth that have made him so happy, growing into the man he’s always dreamed of being has made him the most confident he’s ever been in his life, but it’s still not right. And it will never be exactly right without the surgery.

But he can’t afford both bottom surgery and top surgery. Hoping for both- at least anytime soon- is unrealistic. Not to mention the complications that go along with it. He may never have the chance for bottom surgery. Is he really going to live a life of goddamn celibacy just because he got stuck with the wrong parts at birth?

He hates himself, and it’ll be a long, hard road to lessen that hate, but maybe… If Rogue can accept him like this, then he can learn to accept himself to.

“I...yes…” Sting’s voice is barely above a whisper. He looks at Rogue, anxious and unsure, but still with love. Always with love.

Rogue kisses the scar over Sting’s eyebrow, then his lips, so Sting can taste their smile.

“Thank you, sunshine,” Rogue whispers, reverent, as if thanking a god who just bared them a gift.

It makes Sting blush. He keeps kissing Rogue even as they lay him down on his back. Their hands wander over his body, mapping uncharted territory with a wonder and softness that makes Sting shiver. They stay clear from the binder still covering his chest, and Sting can’t appreciate them enough for it.

Their hands are replaced with their mouth, kissing over Sting’s jaw, his shoulders and down his arms. They kiss each of his fingers, and it takes Sting a moment to realize they’re whispering words into his hands.

“I love you- for staying with me.”

“For saving me.”

“For protecting me.”

“For being the only person who could make me laugh.”

“For loving me.”

Sting only stares, speechless, as Rogue continues kissing down his body. He hadn’t been expecting this...intensity at all. He had thought Rogue would be shy and careful in touching him, afraid he might snap. But no, they’re… they’re practically worshiping his body.

Fuck.

There are tears on Sting’s face, and his chest is so tight and full of love he feels like he might explode. He has no idea what he’s done to deserve any of this.

“R-Rogue…”

They kiss down his stomach, pressing a kiss to each of his hips, then pause at his boxers. They look up at Sting, red eyes questioning, asking is this still ok?

Several breaths later, Sting nods.

Rogue tugs his boxers off, throws them to the floor, then turns to at Sting. Their breath catches in their throat; Sting is shaking under them, a blush on his tear-stained cheeks, his hair a mess of blond curls, totally naked except for the binder covering his chest.

“Beautiful…” Rogue breathes.

“W-What?”

“You,” Rogue repeats, “are beautiful.” They trace the curves of his body with their palms as if committing every nook and cranny, every perfection and imperfection, to memory.

“Don’t say stuff like that,” Sting whispers, his blush growing more pronounced.

“Why not?” Rogue looks in his eyes with a kind smile. “It’s the truth. Aren’t you the one always saying the truth deserves to be said?”

“Don’t throw my own words back at me!”

Rogue laughs, “Sorry, sorry.” Their hands trail up Sting’s thighs, making him shiver, when they pause and Sting sees the first sign of uncertainty they’ve shown since this started in the furrow of their brow. “Um…”

“What?” Sting asks.

“It’s...um…” Rogue blushes, and if Sting wasn’t so nervous he would call them cute. They look down and away, tugging their lip between their teeth. “I’m...not sure what I should do.”

Oh. Right. Rogue’s been so sure of themselves through this Sting forgot this is their first time too. That...makes this a little awkward.

“Oh fuck, this is embarrassing,” Sting groans and grabs a pillow to put over his head.

He hears Rogue laugh nervously, “I did kinda kill the mood a bit, didn’t I? Sorry, should I…?”

Sting tugs the pillow down enough so he can see Rogue over it. They’re looking at him again; Sting can still see the wonder in his eyes. It almost makes him pull the pillow back up. “No, it’s...fine. Maybe just...um...just touch me? And I can uh, tell you what feels good? Or what doesn’t?”

Rogue nods. A second later Sting feels their hands on his thighs start moving again, then a soft touch against his labia, making him gasp.

It feels...good? Sting isn’t sure. But Rogue’s running two fingers up and down his slit, making him shiver. They keep one hand anchored on his thigh, kneading gently, and then a finger dips in and touches his cock and- oh yes.

“Oh Rogue,” Sting gasps, “It’s- there. That felt good. Keep touching there.”

“Fuck…” Rogue strokes a finger up and down Sting’s small cock. They can’t take their eyes off his face, mesmerized as his mouth opens on a moan, his eyes flutter shut, and his blush spreads all the way to that stupid pillow he’s holding over his chest. “It really feels that good…?”

“Yes,” Sting breathes. Neither one of them really know what they’re doing, but it still feels like someone’s lit tiny fireworks under Sting’s skin. He can’t seem to hold still, squirming on the bed and wrapping his legs around Rogue’s waist.

And then Rogue adds another finger, stroking and squeezing his cock, and Sting sees stars.

“Rogue Rogue Rogue-” Sting gasps and moans, voice high and breathy, climbing higher and higher until suddenly the world explodes around him in a fraction of light.

Rogue pulls their hand away as Sting comes back down. He shudders under them, breathing hard, thighs sticky, feeling like a bomb of pleasure just exploded inside him.

“Fuck…”

Rogue’s voice filters through the fog in his mind, “-ing. Sting, you ok?”

Sting nods weakly, opening watery eyes to look at Rogue. Maybe it’s the trick of the light, or he’s just seeing things, but it looks like Rogue’s glowing-

Wait, no.

He’s glowing.

He raises a shaking hand to see a faint white glow around his fingers, trailing down his arm. It’s faint enough not to blind anyone, but bright enough to reflect the light across Rogue’s features, as if they’re sharing his light.

“You’re glowing, love,” Rogue whispers softly. Their hand is gently stroking Sting’s jaw, the touch filled with wonder.

“Haha…” Sting slowly lowers his hand back down, blushing. “This...happens when I get really happy sometimes…”

Rogue’s smile is bright enough to rival Sting’s magic. “So you are happy, then?”

“Yea...Yea I am.” Sting smiles softly, because it’s true. One of the reasons he was so hesitant to do this was because he was scared he’d go into a dysphoria-driven panic attack as soon as it’s over, but now that it’s done he doesn’t feel weird. He feels closer to Rogue then ever. He feels happy.

Rogue kisses him softly. “I love you, sunshine.” They pause, then suddenly they’re laughing, “Huh, guess now you’re a literal ball of sunshine!”

“Oh shut up!” Sting laughs and wacks Rogue with the pillow he had been holding to his chest the whole time.

Rogue only catches it, tossing it aside. “Well, was that as good as your dreams?”

“Better than my dreams.”

Rogue laughs, and Sting swoops in to kiss them again.

“Alright, alright. Sting-” Rogue’s still giggling as they gently push Sting away. “Come on, we should go get cleaned up.”

Sting nods, and Rogue pulls him to his feet. They both pause on the way to the bathroom. Sting traces his fingers around the edge of the binder, but eventually shakes his head and takes it off. He’s with Rogue, who has shown their love for him as strongly as they can over and over. Sting may hate his body, but Rogue loves him. He has nothing to hide here.

Rogue says nothing, just smiles and squeezes Sting’s hand. They climb into the too-small bath together, two bodies folded into each other like missing puzzle pieces. They wash each other’s hair, laughing when Sting starts purring, then frantically grabbing a washcloth when soap gets in the others eye, small intimate moments that are worth a lifetime.

It’s messy and clumsy and not quite right, but it’s still them. It’s still Rogue, who cries over romance novels and gets overprotective over the stupidest things. And it’s still Sting, who gives his all for his guild and expects nothing in return, who constantly forgets to wear his contacts and who believes in the five second rule when food falls on the floor. It’s still two people who have gone through hardships unimaginable, and come out hand-in-hand stronger than ever.

And because it’s them, it’s perfect.