A/N: Fairy Tail + trans man (+ canon agender Frosch). Stingue smut ahead.

Your Body

"Whoa. Um," Yukino stammered. "Sting?"

Rogue turned around and went still as a statue.

She was holding it. In her hand. Looking at the tiny bottle. Orga, too, sitting nearby. They were staring at it. Shit.

"What's up?" Beside him, Sting's calm tone wrapped around Rogue's racing heart and slowed it just a little.

"Th-This came," Yukino said. "It's addressed to you guys' place, but for some reason got dropped off with the guild mail. I was going through and wasn't looking… Um."

"What is it?" Sting asked, as if he were oblivious to what that little bottle meant. But Rogue could read the tense lines of his body, could see his brain cranking through solutions.

"Hormones," Yukino said softly.

Sting sucked his way down Rogue's neck, desperate. He couldn't get enough of Rogue, couldn't show enough how much he loved him. Fuck, there was so much. So much, making him dizzy. The smell of Rogue's skin was like a drug.

"Hnnn," Rogue groaned.

Sting bit him in response, sucking harder, wanting all of him.

Rogue's fingers clawing into his back made Sting's movements more frenzied, sofa squeaking. When Rogue twisted into his lap and straddled him, it broke Sting's hold on his neck. Rogue's hands were already cupping his face, bringing him into a kiss that was all tongues and lips and desire. Sting melted, Rogue's insistent touches pushing him back into the cushions.

Gods, this was perfect. Everything about Rogue was perfect. Sting would never get tired of this. Never get tired of the feeling of rightness Rogue gave him. Rogue made him feel attractive, want-able, lovable—like Sting was the only person in the world and Rogue's entire being wanted was focused on.

Rogue gave him more affection than Sting ever thought someone like him deserved. It wasn't possible. Rogue was a miracle. Rogue was his light.

Rogue could see the question hovering on Yukino's lips. She wasn't the nosy type: Rogue had a lingering hope she'd stay silent.

Her mouth opened.

"W-Why—?"

His hopes dashed apart like water against the rocks, like the ocean roar filling in his ears. Rogue wasn't good in panic situations—the reason he'd practiced so hard to make sure battle never panicked him.

He hadn't practiced for this. Could it get any worse?

"What's going on?" Minerva demanded, striding over. She whisked the bottle out of Yukino's hands.

Fuck. This was ten times worse.

"What's got you all so quiet?" she went on. Then she read the label and her eyebrows shot up. "Ah. Alright then."

Rogue didn't know what this meant—and apparently Sting didn't either. They shared a half-glance full of wariness. At least they had each other, neither of them facing this alone.

"What is it?" Yukino asked, training her eyes on Minerva. "I mean, what's it for?"

"Transition," Minerva said simply, as if this were the most normal thing in the world. Maybe she did have a socially-conscious bone in her body. She turned back to the Dragon Slayers. "I had no clue."

Rogue wanted to answer but his throat was dry. Somehow, Sting still had words.

"That was the idea," he growled, swiping the bottle back.

This was what they never wanted to happen: for people to know. It was just easier if they didn't.

"This is private, Minerva," Sting said, challenge in his eyes.

The door banged open right as Sting's lips were working across Rogue's collarbone, fingers under his shirt about to pull it off. As the Exceeds bounced into the house with their usual cheerful energy, Sting backed off immediately and Rogue slithered onto the sofa next to him as if they'd just been cuddling.

Not making out and undressing each other.

Frosch, for their part, was completely oblivious. They always were. Lector was a bit more observant of the heat in Sting's face and the raw red marks all over Rogue's throat.

"Frosch wanted to see how Lily's sword worked, so he transformed into his larger form," Lector said, sighing. "Then Frosch spent an hour trying to transform into a frog."

Frosch nodded boisterously.

"You can't transform into a frog," Lector sighed, as if he'd been making this argument for a while. "You can only transform into other Exceed forms. And only if you work hard."

"I work hard." They scowled at Lector. "I can be a frog."

"How did transforming go?" Rogue asked, holding out his hand to the little green cat. Rogue's cool voice seemed to transform the room, rearranging Sting's heartbeat around it, leaving him smiling without ever thinking of doing so.

He'd fallen in love with the way Rogue talked. That was one of the first things…

Frosch climbed into Rogue's lap while Sting asked, "Is anyone else hungry?"

"Me!" Lector piped up.

"I know you are." Sting petted his head, a gesture Lector both loved and hated—embarrassed about the involuntary purring the action sometimes instigated.

"Me too," Rogue said.

Frosch remained suspiciously quiet. Everybody looked at them.

"What do frogs eat?"

Rogue blinked and glanced at Sting, dumbfounded.

"Bugs, I think," Rogue said. "Why?"

"I want that for dinner." Frosch smiled their innocent grin.

Rogue caved immediately. "I know a market where we can get fried insects."

While Frosch cheered, Lector and Sting looked at each other in horrified disgust.

"You two don't have to eat any." Rogue rolled his eyes. "Besides, at this hour the market is closed."

"I wanted some today," Frosch said pitifully.

"Why don't you two go down to the river and catch some night bugs?" Rogue suggested, eyes twinkling, which Sting found extra suspicious.

Realizing where he was going, Sting piped up, "Insects love wet areas. You'll find a whole dinner, Frosch."

Lector began grumbling.

"You should go too," Sting interrupted. "So Frosch doesn't get lost."

Lector gave him a long, piercing glare.

"You owe me a fish, Sting," he said. "C'mon, Frosch. Let's leave them to their hobbies."

"'Kay!" Frosch said, happy and ignorant.

Sting snorted a laugh. If Lector ever met a special Exceed, he'd understand.

As the front door closed, he turned back to Rogue, who had a smug grin on his face—as well as a telling blush.

"Where was I?" Sting asked, slipping a greedy hand beneath Rogue's clothes. When Sting leaned in and bit his boyfriend's ear, Rogue's groan filled the room with eager heat.

"I'm not sure how much time I just bought us..." Rogue panted.

"Is that a challenge, Cheney-san?"

Rogue chuckled. "I think you should take as much time as you want. I'll enjoy whatever you give me."

"Yes, you will," Sting whispered sensually. "I'm going to make you come at least three times before they get back."

Rogue shivered and pressed up against him, slipping his tongue between Sting's lips. Damn, Sting couldn't get enough. For Rogue, he could hike to the fucking moon.

"Whose is it?" Minerva asked, hand propped on her hip as if this were an everyday conversation and her guildmaster weren't giving her a hard glare.

Rogue didn't think his body could get any tenser: his spine was about to snap. It wasn't her business. It wasn't anyone's business. Why did nobody get that?

When Sting's hand brushed against the back of his for a moment, Rogue squeezed his fingers. Strength was something they could always give each other.

"M'Lady," Sting said, the flat word sounding more like a rebuke. "Don't."

"What? It's no big deal. We won't think any less of either of you for being trans."

"Stop it," Sting growled.

Rogue's fingernails were digging into his palms, fists balled tightly as if the pain could deaden all the fury running around inside him.

Despite the warning in Sting's tone, Minerva leaned closer and peered at the White Dragon's face.

"It's you, isn't it? It's fine, Sting. Relax, okay? This is the 790s. For fuck's sake."

"So what if it is mine?" Sting asked, swiping the bottle from her hand.

Rogue froze in shock. Sting… What are you doing?

"I never want to hear about it again, is that clear?"

"That's…clear," Minerva said, grudging. Yukino bobbed her head, eyes wide, while Orga grunted—which for him counted as acquiescence.

Sting turned toward Rogue, blue eyes meeting his without a hint of irony, and took one of Rogue's fists in his free hand.

"Relax, love," he said softly. "You're making yourself bleed."

Startled, Rogue uncurled his fingers, the tang of iron hitting his nose.

"I…"

"We'll talk about it at home."

"Sting."

When Sting met his gaze, Rogue was startled to see the fear there. Sting's voice dropped to a whisper so small even Rogue could barely hear it.

"I love you."

The sentence held another lurking inside it: I need you.

Sting couldn't remember how they got to the bedroom, but he did remember stripping Rogue out of his clothes. He remembered Rogue pressing their bodies together—Sting still clothed—and grinding into him until Sting couldn't take it anymore. Now Rogue was bent over the bed, making exquisite noises as Sting knelt behind him and sucked his clit.

Delicious. Rogue quivered, like every particle was begging for him.

Curling his fingers around Rogue's thighs, Sting drew his nails along taut muscles, leaving lines in the skin. On his elbows panting, Rogue let out a rough growl of appreciation, and Sting's cock jumped in response. He loved making Rogue melt like this. Loved the way Rogue's legs wobbled as Sting sucked across his vulva.

Flattening his tongue against slick folds, Sting tried to find that perfect spot, that place where just the right amount of circling pressure sent his boyfriend to pieces…

Rogue's formless sounds jumped up a decibel. Rogue thrust back against Sting's mouth, seeking pleasure, and Sting surrendered to him, tasting Rogue in every heave. As Rogue's breath grew louder and faster, Sting gripped his legs and slid his hands up over Rogue's ass. Gods, he had muscle fucking everywhere. And Rogue loved being touched like this—Sting knew from experience and from the whimper Rogue let out as Sting explored him, scratching and teasing.

And then Rogue pressed in against him, pulsing on Sting's tongue, and let out a long, low growl. His high lasted for ages (something Sting was always privately jealous of), winding down with muscles shaking. He didn't-quite-fall to the mattress in an exhausted slump, smile painting his face. Sting sat back and stared at that muscled back and hard ass, licking his lips. Fuck, that flavor. It filled his head with Rogue and sex.

"Shiiiit." Rogue's panting was hoarse. "Gods, Sting. Your mouth."

"I'm kind of amazing, right?" Sting said, grinning.

Rogue reached back and pulled Sting against him, Sting's chest meeting the cool skin of Rogue's back. "I think I'm in love with you."

"Took you long enough," Sting quipped. "I've been fucking you for four years, and now you fall for me?"

"Baka," Rogue snorted with affection. "Besides, you have no place to talk."

Rogue had been the first one to say it, the one to break the ice—really the one to start everything. He'd been the one to bring up any issues of his body, the one to ask all the important questions about whether Sting was truly comfortable with this as their relationship got more serious and physical. He had much bigger balls than Sting did.

Bigger tits? Bigger courage. Something. Sting still had trouble knowing which social metaphors were okay.

Point was, Rogue was always the braver one. Sting didn't really mind—he got to be the person who saw Rogue at his weakest and held him up when he was too emotionally beaten to stand. When the words and the pressure and the confines of his body made Rogue crazy and he cried silent tears. Sting was the person Rogue let into his dark spaces—ones even Frosch, for all their experiences of agender discrimination, didn't get to see.

"I love you," Sting muttered, burrowing into the back of Rogue's neck.

"I love you too," Rogue said. "Now fuck me. Fuck me slow and deep." Rogue's voice turned guttural. "Give me that big cock of yours and let me envelop you, let me enjoy every centimeter…"

Sting groaned. Fucking dirty talk. As if he weren't hard enough already.

Twisting around to face him, Rogue looked at Sting with so much passion Sting nearly fell over. He slid Sting's trousers off. An overwhelmed Sting let his boyfriend strip him, captivated by the way Rogue's breasts jolted as he moved. Everything about Rogue's body was gorgeous.

As Rogue glided two fingers over Sting's cock in tantalizing strokes, Sting slipped his hand up Rogue's ribcage, stopping just short of his chest.

"Can I?" he asked, even though he knew the answer.

"Yes," Rogue murmured, leaning in to kiss his ear. "You always can."

Sting slid his thumb up over one of Rogue's nipples and watched Rogue's face draw tight in breathless wonder.

"S-Sting," Rogue hissed, his warm hand going still on Sting's cock.

Grinning, Sting did it again. When Rogue arched into him, Sting felt like he was king of the world.

"Stretch me," Rogue moaned. "And let me hold you."

He moved Sting's hand over his ass to show just what kind of holding he meant. Sting shivered, eyes fluttering shut. In that brief second, Rogue crossed the space between them and swept Sting into a heavy kiss. Lips skated over each other until Sting could hardly breath, Rogue panting into his mouth.

Rolling away from Sting, Rogue propped himself on his stomach again.

"I challenge—hahhh."

Sting slid two fingers up his ass, cutting off Rogue's speech. Caressing Rogue's hip, he reveled in the boiling heat as he stood up and pressed in behind Rogue.

Rogue didn't like his vagina being touched, but that in no way limited their sex life. Just as Sting's desire for Rogue to fuck him was remedied with the aid of a strap-on, Rogue loved taking it up the ass, giving both of them chances to pleasure the other. Creativity—wasn't that what sex should be about regardless? Sting couldn't understand people who refused to date trans partners. After everything he'd been through with Rogue, people like that pissed him off.

Sting was so horny at this point he couldn't resist sliding his cock between Rogue's legs as he prepped him. While Rogue tensed and let out a moan, Sting could hardly make a sound, the slick pressure shooting pleasure up to pool in his belly.

"Fuck, Rogue," he gasped, as he continued frotting against Rogue's clit. Rogue's fingers joined the action, guiding Sting's cock into even more exhilarating movements and rubbing himself at the same time.

It didn't take Sting long to get his partner ready, but Rogue was thrusting against him so wonderfully Sting couldn't stop it. Just as he was wondering if he'd come right here between Rogue's thighs, Rogue let out a shout and tensed around him—and oh, fuck, the pressure. Sting curled his arms around Rogue and glided up to fondle his breasts.

The teasing touches and pinches to Rogue's nipples extended his orgasm for so long Sting was wondering if this counted as multiple. His boyfriend just kept moaning, growing hoarse as Sting worked over the small plump mounds of his breast.

Rogue didn't take a moment to slow down, reaching back to grab Sting's cock and guide him up to his ass.

"Oh, f-fuck," Sting moaned; it was his turn to be a trembling mess. Rogue had a way of sliding his fingers over the tip and slit of his cock that drove Sting crazy. Those amazing touches were just as quickly replaced by the squeeze of Rogue thrusting back onto his cock.

"Ah!" Rogue stopped.

"Too fast," Sting guessed, although his cock was begging for a repeat. "S-Slow down so I don't come all over you right fucking now. I want you to fucking devour me. I am going to inhabit every corner of you..."

Rogue let out a groan, slowly pressing his hips back despite the warning, until Sting fit all the way.

Sting had never felt anything as good as this. As good as Rogue laying siege to him. Swallowing him whole. Fucking Rogue taking every single one of Sting's brain cells and turning them to happy, screaming goo.

Sting eased in and out in slow, steady rhythm, groaning. Panting, Rogue fisted the bedclothes and moved with him, their thighs connecting, sweat making the two men stick to each other. Gods, it was perfect.

Teasing Rogue's clit with his fingers, Sting felt when he was getting closer, tension increasing and with it the pressure on Sting's cock. As Rogue approached the edge, Sting closed his eyes and immersed himself in the feel of Rogue's body.

After Rogue came a third time, trembling so hard Sting had to hold onto his hips, Sting shoved in and let go.

Inside Rogue, there was peace and white noise. White-hot pleasure washed Sting away on an overwhelming tide. He belonged to this body; to Rogue; to this sensation. Sting was at the mercy of this shrill joy.

Rogue collapsed without grace, Sting slipping out, and the White Dragon fell on top of him in surprise.

"Oof," Rogue complained.

"No warning," Sting protested breathlessly, rolling off his beloved and dragging Rogue into a tangled hug. "Fuck. Goddamn."

"You're always speechless after."

"Can you blame me?"

Rogue chuckled with a vulnerable happiness only Sting got to see.

"I almost asked you to bring out the strap-on," Sting said, fingers running lazy circles over Rogue's skin. "But this was fucking amazing. You're always fucking amazing."

"Still could," Rogue said, mischief in his voice.

Sting laughed. "Give me a few minutes to recover."

"Nnmm," Rogue agreed.

He twisted around to stare at Sting.

"You look lovely all sweaty and red like this," Rogue sighed. "You always look beautiful when I make a mess of you."

Grinning, Sting kissed his mouth before collapsing dramatically into the bed.

Rogue's palms weren't that injured. Just shiny red half-moons from where his nails punctured the skin. Still, first time he'd done that out of nerves.

He bandaged his hands up when he realized he was likely to do it again in a few minutes.

He'd made a decision.

Sting sat a few meters away, head propped against his fist as his eyes skimmed over papers. Rogue grinned: Sabertooth's Master looked bored as fuck, with the wide-eyed expression of a kitten denied its favorite treat. Which in Sting's case was doing anything that didn't involve responsibility.

When Rogue laid a hand on his shoulder, Sting startled and looked up.

"Can I have it?" Rogue asked.

"Have…? Oh, yeah." Sting glanced around to make sure nobody was watching before he pulled the bottle out of his pocket and handed it over.

"Thank you for covering for me."

"Yeah," Sting said, taking one of Rogue's hands and staring at the bandage. "Of course."

"But I don't want them to think it's you."

"I don't mind, Rogue." Sting straightened. "So what if people think I'm trans? People can't hurt me like they can you."

"They can't hurt me either, Sting. Not if I don't let them."

"But." Sting's mouth opened and closed.

"This is my guild," Rogue's fist tightened around the bottle of hormones, "and my identity."

Sting nodded. "Okay."

Squeezing Sting's fingers, Rogue turned and approached the table where Yukino was sitting. She looked up, tilting her head and blushing—clearly the confrontation was still fresh in her memory.

Rogue set the bottle on the table as he sat.

"This," he said, "is mine."

Her eyes tracked from the bottle up to his face. As understanding struck, her gaze sharpened, but she didn't look at him differently.

"My father always knew," he said. "I think I did too, except I didn't really know the difference between 'boy' or 'girl.' Didn't see many people."

He took a long breath.

"When I was nine, I told everyone I was a boy. I haven't let anyone call me a girl since."

Yukino's expression was awed, almost adoring, like he was some sort of hero. With anyone else, it might've been an insult, but coming from Yukino, he knew it was her version of appreciating him.

"How long have you been on hormones?" she asked.

"Almost a year."

"Were things ever…difficult before that? Or since?"

"Being a man is easy, because it's natural." Rogue exhaled. "It's people that are hard."

"Have I ever…?"

"No."

"Good," she sighed. "If I ever do anything, tell me."

Rogue stared down at his bandaged palms. "Count on it."

"Hey, Rogue? Thanks."

He gave her one of his rare smiles.

As Rogue rolled onto his back, Sting swept his gaze over the limber form. Sweat made Rogue's brown skin glisten, he was so incredibly fit, and his post-sex glow filled Sting with satisfaction.

"How are you feeling about starting hormones?" he asked.

Arms sprawled, Rogue looked over at him.

"I'm fucking terrified."

"I guess that's normal."

Rogue snorted a laugh. "Unlike your face."

Retaliating with a punch to the arm, Sting slid and put his head on Rogue's chest.

"I like you all ways."

"I know." Rogue slipped an arm around his shoulders. "I'm not looking forward to mood swings. Or having to get used to my body all over again. Or how long the change is going to take."

"What are you looking forward to?"

"No more periods."

Sting laughed. Slanting his gaze sideways at Sting, Rogue cracked a half-smile.

"I'm also looking forward to things being…more right," he went on. "And not feeling helpless."

Sting curled tighter around him, nose smashed against Rogue's breast.

"Yeah," he said, because he didn't know what else to say. It was all an adventure. "You're amazing."

Rogue turned red. "Shut up. I love you."

A/N: Comments are the best encouragement ^^