My small contribution to @graveformydarlingâs Trophy Husband Fighter canon, unfinished and very rough. But if I didnât post it now I might never deem it good enough to see the light of day! So here it is Mel, hope itâs okay,,,
For their second wedding anniversary, Tutor gifts Fighter a necklace. He purposefully purchases one that is metal--silver specifically, thin, that can be worn under clothes. But itâs heavy â Tutor wants Fight to notice the weight, wants his husband to never forget heâs wearing it. Itâs the closest theyâve gotten to a collar, but Tutor wanted something Fight could show offâsometimes.
Tutor remembered how Fight would look at the necklace heâd gifted Tutor so long ago, with both possessiveness and longing, and had known for a long time the earring Tutor had given him and the rings they had exchanged were not enough, for either of them. He also knew Fight was reserved at best when they werenât alone, but also how much he wanted to show off the fact he had Tor as his husband. Extravagant gifts to Tor were one of them. So now it was Torâs turn to be extravagant. It was a fascinating war of interests Tor saw take place sometimes in his husbandâs eyes, expressions, demeanor. So the necklace for Fight was a step in the direction Tor felt they both wanted.
Fight never wears it at their shared workplace, only at home, on their dates, or when heâs wearing a suit for work and itâs hidden. Tutor doesnât usually know when Fighter has that necklace on while theyâre both working at the office, but he has a lot of fun guessing by Fightâs demeanor and then finding out if he was right at the end of the work day. He only keeps score to himself for a few weeks, but he knows Fighter knows this is a game theyâre both playing.
The first time Tor guesses wrong, he blames the work. It was a ten hour day that turned into thirteen and heâd barely seen Fight after their all-too-brief lunch together. As soon as they had sat down to eat, Fight unbuttoned one button on his shirt and loosened his tie, and Torâs first impulse was to guess Fight wasnât wearing it. When their lunch ended, Fight fixed his single loose button, giving Torâs lips a teasing peck rather than a real kiss (not unlike him), and left Tor to his work. Tor had had so much on his mind as heâd returned to work, he forgot to consider the matter further until he drove home by himself that evening, and it occurred to him he hadnât seen Fighter once all afternoon.
When he gets home, Fight is cooking a late dinner for himâTor had texted ahead to tell him he was finally leaving workâand wearing gym shorts, a muscle shirt, andâthe necklace.
Tutor comes up behind his husband to hug him around the waist, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to his neck, right over the silver metal warmed by Fighterâs skin. Fighterâs hands falter in their work chopping vegetables, and go completely still when Tutorâs kisses move up Fightâs neck to suck Fightâs âTâ earring into his mouth and gently nip the soft skin.
âYou wore it, didnât you?â Tor whispers in Fightâs ear, his hands grasping Fightâs hips even harder as he pulls Fight flush against him.
âHmmm,â is Fightâs only response as he sinks into Tutorâs embrace.
He finally confesses to Fight, after his second glass of wine that night, sitting across from Fight on the couch, that heâd been guessing correctly for weeks now. Fight laughs and tells Tor he can stop guessing when heâll wear it and just tell him when he wants him to wear the necklace or not.
Tor hooks a finger under the necklace, just above Fightâs collarbone, and pulls Fight closer to him, until their noses are almost touching. Fightâs hands are now braced on either side of him, his breath hitching, but he doesnât touch Tor. He knows to wait for permission.
âI know why you wear it, PâFight,â Tor says, watching Fightâs eyes become glassy and soft, staring at Torâs lips.
âItâs when you miss me more, isnât it?â Tor asks gently, his gaze drifting down to Fightâs slightly parted lips.
Fightâs eyes glance down, his âHmmâ of response almost too soft.
Thatâs why heâd worn it today. Fight had barely seen him for almost fourteen hours besides their barely twenty minute lunch. At noon.
Torâs fingers drifted from Fightâs collarbone up the side of his neck, feather light. Fightâs face moves almost imperceptibly closer, and Torâs other hand moves to the back of Fightâs neck, fingers carding through his hair.
âI missed you, too,â Tor whispers, pulling Fight forward, closing the space between them.