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"So, let me get this straight," Natsu said, lounging against Lucy's bedframe. "You tried to make a copy of your copy—"
"Gemini," Lucy corrected, her voice flat.
"Huh?"
"I tried to make a copy of Gemini." She wasn't looking at him, her eyes stuck on the thing sitting cross-legged on her floor. It was stacking plastic cups with an intensity that didn't quite match its skill level.
"Riiight," Natsu drawled. "And now ya can't get rid of it?"
"Basically." Lucy sighed, hugging her knees. "I thought it'd be cool to make multiple copies of myself during battle, but apparently copying your copy isn't the best approach."
Natsu squinted at the thing. "Looks like you, though."
"Yeah, but it's clearly missing a few brain cells," Lucy muttered.
As if to prove her point, the clone clapped enthusiastically for its own collapsed tower.
"Can't even use magic," Lucy went on, sounding exhausted. "And I don't know if it's a blessing or a curse that it barely speaks. Just…squeaks."
Natsu burst out laughing. "You sure it's not a perfect copy?"
Lucy shot him a glare. "Keep your nasty jabs to yourself."
She flipped one of the fallen cups with unnecessary aggression, earning a delighted gasp from the clone, which clapped like it had just witnessed a miracle. Natsu chuckled under his breath.
"I asked for help, not jokes," Lucy grumbled, crawling forward to collect the scattered cups.
Natsu's gaze dropped—automatic and traitorous—down the curve of her back, her skirt riding high enough to bare the soft backs of her thighs and the faint crease where they met the cotton stretched over her ass.
Something lurched low in his gut, warm and unwelcome, and he yanked his eyes back to the clone. Heat crawled up the back of his neck.
When it started clapping again, he reached over, hooked an arm around Lucy's waist, and pulled her back beside him—easier than looking at her.
"Relax," he said, flashing a grin to shake off the feeling. "I did get help."
Lucy blinked. "You did?"
He held out a folded note with a smug tilt of his chin. "Mira wrote it down for ya."
Hope flickered in Lucy's eyes—right up until she opened it. Her shoulders slumped.
"What's wrong?" Natsu asked, leaning in until their shoulders pressed together.
The clone, meanwhile, had grown bored of the cups and was now curled against Lucy's legs, rubbing its cheek against her thigh like a cat. Lucy absentmindedly patted its head, her voice going flat.
"It runs on my magic. It'll vanish when I'm dry—or if I push my body to the brink of collapse, that'll snap the link instantly." She crumpled the note and lobbed it at the wastebasket. "What a load of—"
Clap clap clap.
Lucy groaned. "You don't clap for missed shots," she scolded, then flopped back against the bedframe.
Natsu wheezed. "Oh, man! It's so damn stupid."
Lucy leaned over and pinched his cheek. "Keep laughing, and I'll summon another one."
"Ow! No thanks. One stupid Lucy's enough." He caught her wrist without thinking, his thumb dragging once across her skin before he let go. "Seriously, though. You're usually more patient with this kinda stuff."
Before Lucy could answer, the clone looked up at him—then crawled straight into his lap, nuzzling against his chest like it belonged there. Natsu went rigid. "What the—"
"You have to pat it," Lucy said, voice hollow.
"I need to what?"
"Pat it. It gets upset otherwise."
"Lucyyy." His tone was a plea, but the clone was already pressing its face into his jacket.
"Just do it," she said tiredly.
Natsu exhaled through his nose and gave in, scratching its head with stiff fingers. The hair was soft. It smelled like Lucy—kinda. He kept his eyes forward.
Wrong.
"This is so weird," he muttered. "Copy-Lucy—"
"Copy-Lucy?" Lucy repeated, one eyebrow lifting.
He shrugged. "Acts like your drunk self. All clingy."
Her blush came fast. "Please stop insulting me for today."
"I'll try." He smirked faintly, keeping up the mechanical pets. "So how're we gonna exhaust ya enough to poof it away?"
He leaned in close, grin going crooked. "Wanna fight?"
Lucy pushed his face away, her neck going pink. "As if."
The clone shifted in his lap. Its shirt—way too big, and he was only now registering it was probably all it had on—rode up its thighs. Lucy's eye twitched. She glanced from the clone to him, his face still hovering near hers.
"I don't feel like exercising myself to death," she muttered, tugging at the clone's arm.
"So we're just gonna wait till your magic runs out?" he asked.
"Got a better idea?" she shot back, giving up as the clone whimpered and burrowed closer against him.
She slumped beside Natsu with a huff. The copy's whimpers had softened into low, needy hums as it clung to his lap, its face buried somewhere far too close to where Lucy would never be caught dead. A hot, sharp tug bloomed in her chest.
Just a few hours. Just until my magic runs out. Easy.
"Alright," Natsu grunted, trying and failing to pry the clone off without using real force. "So waitin' it is. But if we're stuck here, we gotta distract it or somethin'." He gave up with a sigh and squinted at her. "And get it off me."
Lucy snorted. "Distract it? Good luck. It's got the attention span of a goldfish and the stubbornness of a—"
She cut herself off. The copy had twisted in his lap, its brown eyes fixing on the small space between her and Natsu—on her space, where she sat shoulder-to-shoulder with him, the heat of his thigh a constant, irritating spark against hers. It stared at the gap like it had personally offended it.
Before Lucy could react, it lunged. One arm wedged between them like a barrier; the other looped around Natsu's waist and dragged him sideways—away from her. The soft hum sharpened into something possessive as it pressed flush against his side, cheek smushed to his arm like a child guarding its favorite toy.
Lucy's jaw tightened.
"Hey—c'mon!" Natsu planted a hand on the copy's forehead and pushed. "Back off. Personal space, y'know?"
It didn't budge. Just blinked up at him with wide, vacant eyes until his push faltered into a resigned pat on the head. "Ugh. You're lucky you look like Lucy, or I'd—"
"Or you'd what?" Lucy cut in, heat flooding her face. "It's not a puppy, Natsu. Stop petting it."
He scowled. "What's with you? You told me to—"
The copy squeaked and lunged again, knocking them both sideways in a tangle of limbs. Lucy turned away, jaw clenched. The sounds of Natsu's struggle—thuds, exasperated groans, muttered curses—made her irritation spike.
Why does this bother me so much?
When she finally looked back, her stomach dropped. The clone was practically grinding against him, its—her?—naked bottom pressing flush against Natsu's, thankfully clothed, thigh. Lucy's face went scarlet.
"OFF!" Natsu barked.
He hooked an arm around its waist and lifted it like a misbehaving cat. It kicked and whined, but he set it down—too gently, in Lucy's opinion—beside the toppled cups and dusted himself off.
"There. Easy fix," he muttered.
Then he turned to her, crouching down to her level as she sat hugging her knees. "Now," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, "where were we? Oh—distractions."
His grin turned boyish, and he leaned closer, voice dropping to that conspiratorial drawl that always meant trouble. "What if we play a game? Like Erza's Guild Master Game, but only the copy has to follow the tasks, and—"
"Hold it." Lucy's scowl didn't quite cover the warmth creeping up her neck. "I already said—"
She didn't finish.
Something small and hard smacked Natsu in the back of the head with a dull thwack. He lurched forward—straight into her.
A crush of warmth. The soft, shocking press of lips. The faint taste of pizza and smoke.
Gone in a heartbeat.
Lucy sat frozen, mind completely blank. Natsu whipped around, rubbing the back of his head with a scowl, already zeroing in on the culprit.
She barely heard whatever he said next. Her fingers drifted to her lips on their own, the ghost of the contact sending a strange, slow dizzy feeling through her chest
By the time her thoughts caught up, Natsu was already wrestling the squirming copy into a length of rope—where had he even gotten that?
“Ha! Finally got ya!” he crowed, triumphant.
The copy looked up at him with wide, trembling eyes, whining piteously.
Despite herself, Lucy sighed and reached over, patting its head and gently working the rope free from around its ankles. "Maybe I should just run a few laps and get this over with…"
Natsu crouched beside her. His fingers circled her wrist, and his frown was soft in a way his words weren't. "You pamper it too much," he said. "No wonder it acts like a brat."
Lucy blinked, heat rising in her cheeks. He was seriously just going to ignore what had just happened?
"Easy for you to say. You didn't have to listen to it cry for twenty minutes before you got here."
He didn’t answer. He just studied her with that quiet, intense look of his. Then, before she could protest, he tugged her wrist and pulled her into his lap, settling her against him with the easy, thoughtless confidence of someone who had never once questioned whether he was allowed to.
"Hey! What are you—"
His arms closed around her, and she went still. He was just holding her. That was all. But his gaze didn't soften the way it usually did—it lingered, settled, something steady and intent in it that made her breath catch in a way she wasn't prepared for.
"Another one," he murmured.
"Huh?" She searched his face, confused—and then realized where his eyes had drifted.
Her heart lurched.
She turned her head away immediately, pressing her hand over her mouth. "N-No way. That was an accident," she mumbled, her voice coming out embarrassingly thin.
When she peeked back, he was frowning slightly, confusion in his eyes.
Without a word, he reached up and gently pulled her hand away from her lips. She didn't resist. She wasn't entirely sure why. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was the way he was looking at her—careful, and focused, like she was the only thing in the room worth looking at.
He leaned in slowly, giving her every chance to pull away.
Lucy didn't move.
When their lips met—soft and unhurried—it wasn't a spark. It was a slow, spreading warmth that moved through her all at once, stealing the air from her lungs before she'd even registered it was happening.
Her fingers curled into the fabric of his jacket. His hand spread wide against her back, the heat of his palm burning gently through the thin fabric of her shirt.
When they parted, her cheeks were on fire, and her lungs had apparently forgotten their one job.
"The real one's definitely better," Natsu said, the grin that followed small and certain and deeply unfair to her current state.
Lucy stared at him, lips still tingling, completely disarmed. For once, she had no retort.
She liked it. The warmth, the closeness, the fact that his eyes hadn't drifted once…
The realization sent another flush of heat through her.
"Natsu…" Her voice came out soft. Shaky in a way she didn't try to hide. Her fingers found the edge of his scarf and tugged gently until it slipped loose and pooled into her lap. "More," she whispered. "Please."
Natsu didn't need the words. The desperate fist clutching his jacket was enough.
He hauled her higher, her thighs spreading over his, the hot, soft weight of her grinding down on the hard ache in his pants. A rough sound tore out of him, and then he was kissing her again—no softness, just teeth and tongue and the taste of her.
A squeak cut through the heat. Wet. Desperate.
Lucy flinched back, burying her burning face in his shoulder. Natsu followed her gaze and froze.
The copy knelt where he'd dumped it, rope still around its wrists, but it had twisted—knees falling open, two fingers working between slick folds, frantic and messy. Juices gleamed on its inner thigh. Each sloppy stroke ended in a choked little grunt that sounded way too much like the noise Lucy had just made against his mouth.
His cock throbbed hard under her weight.
"Didn't think it'd even know how to do that," he muttered.
A weak fist hit his chest. "Eyes on me, idiot."
He looked down: cheeks scarlet, lips bruised, fingers fumbling with his zipper. The sharp sting in her voice lit a whole new kind of fire in his gut.
"Jealous?" It came out rough. Amused.
Lucy kept her eyes on the zipper she was torturing. "As if. You're just easily distracted."
Natsu brushed his mouth over hers, barely a kiss, and pulled back just enough to catch her eyes. "Don't worry." His voice dropped. "I plan to entertain you twice as hard."
Before she could snap back, he kissed her again. Slower this time, deeper, his palms sliding down to cup the full curve of her ass, calluses catching on thin silk and skin. Lucy arched into it, a shaky whimper slipping into his mouth, and something in his gut pulled tight.
The wet, rhythmic sounds from the copy blurred into the background—a filthy soundtrack to every thought he'd ever shoved down about her.
He broke the kiss to drag his mouth along her jaw. "You're soaked, Luce." His fingers found the damp seam of her shorts, pressing the fabric in until her hips jerked. "This what does it for ya? Watchin' yourself?"
A mortified groan. He chuckled low against her throat and kept the pressure slow, teasing, deliberate. "Ya got jealous when it was all over me, right?"
Her nails dug into his jacket. Beside them, the copy keened, hips rocking into its own hand; Natsu didn't glance at it. Didn't need to. His whole world had narrowed to the tremor under his thumb.
He eased off. Just enough.
Lucy's frustrated, dazed blink almost made him grin.
He caught her chin, tipped her face up until she had nowhere to look but at him. Flushed, lips bitten red, already halfway wrecked—his chest did something stupid at the sight of it.
"That wasn't the real question, by the way." His arm locked around her waist. His voice stayed easy. "Why get jealous over a cheap copy?"
She pulled in a shaky breath.
"First…" Her voice dropped to almost nothing. "I want to be your first, Natsu."
The words hit him square in the sternum.
Something cracked open: shock, heat, and something else he didn't have a name for, all at once. His grip went slack. His eyes widened a beat before they narrowed, jaw tightening, a slow burn crawling up the back of his neck and pooling low in his gut.
Not anger.
He let the silence stretch. Let her search his face. Gave her nothing back but that, until her pulse was visibly hammering in her throat.
Then he exhaled, rough and quiet, his thumb brushing the corner of her mouth.
"First kiss was already yours, Luce." His voice came out low. Scraped raw. "First everything else?"
His grip tightened again, fingers pressing into the curve of her hip. "Same answer—long as ya keep sayin' please."
The next few seconds were a blur.
One moment Lucy was in Natsu's lap, the next she was on her back, his mouth already working between her thighs like he'd been thinking about it for a while.
She pressed the back of her hand over her mouth, trying to muffle herself, but Natsu's tongue was relentless: sliding, circling, sucking at her clit in a rhythm that made coherent thought basically impossible.
Her attempts at staying still were embarrassingly futile.
Every stroke dragged another involuntary roll from her hips, and the more she moved, the harder his grip became on her thighs, fingers pressing deep enough that she was dimly aware they might leave marks.
Somehow, that only made it worse—Better, she corrected herself faintly. Definitely better.
"Hnnng—Natsu…"
She wanted to look at him. Managed to lift her head through the haze of her sweaty bangs—when her gaze caught on something past his shoulder.
The copy, still on the floor where he'd left it, hunched forward with its hands still loosely bound, shirt rucked up, working itself with the same single-minded desperation as before. Its eyes were fixed on them. Hungry and vacant all at once.
Lucy's thoughts snagged. She wondered, distantly, how much of that was actually her. Whether she'd look the same, watching from the outside.
The thought sent a hot, complicated wave crashing through her before she could decide how she felt about it.
"Aaahhh~"
Her voice rang out loud enough to echo, and she stopped caring.
Her thighs locked around Natsu's head, holding him in place as the orgasm crested and broke through her.
He'd gone still, but the warm press of his breath against her oversensitive skin only stretched it out longer, pulling a string of helpless sounds from her throat until she finally went slack.
She spread her legs, breathing hard, staring at the ceiling while the last tremors faded out.
Somewhere below her field of vision, the copy made a small, needy sound that Lucy tried to ignore.
Then a shadow crossed her view: pink hair and a very smug grin. Natsu hovered over her, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
Lucy's eyes narrowed. "What?"
His hand slid along her waist and hip, lazy and warm, while he held himself up with the other. The touch sent heat skating along every nerve beneath it, and she pressed her lips together, refusing to react.
"So you do like being watched," he said, like he was stating something obvious.
"Do not." She pouted, and it came out more stubborn than convincing.
"Do too." His hand slid between her folds without warning, fingers dragging upward.
The moan escaped before she could stop it.
When she managed to open her eyes, his fingers were at his lips, tongue working off the slick gathered there with an expression of casual interest that made her face go completely red.
"Stop tasting it, idiot." She hit his chest. It was a very weak hit.
Natsu laughed—low and easy—and the warmth of it spread through her chest in a way she didn't have the energy to overthink right now.
Then a loud moan from the floor snapped both their attention to the side.
Lucy peeked past him to find the copy pressed flush against the floor, trembling through its own climax, fluid slicking down the inside of its thigh.
Lucy's face burned. She became very pointedly aware of the hard length pressing against her as Natsu watched the scene.
She rolled her eyes, though she couldn't honestly say she minded.
There was something quietly flattering about how easily a version of her could do that to him, even a hollow, half-conscious one.
"Hey, Natsu! Should I—"
He didn't let her finish. His hands were already on her, spinning her over and pressing her down into the mattress, palm flat against the back of her neck.
"HEY! What do you think you're—Aagghh!"
Lucy's face hit the sheets as she felt him push into her; thick, slow, filling her completely in one long slide that punched the air right out of her lungs.
Her own slickness made it easier than she expected, but the stretch still made her breath hitch, and her fingers curled hard into the bedding.
"Sorry." Natsu's voice came out low behind her, rough around the edges. "Was gettin' impatient."
His lips pressed to her back—warm, deliberate, almost careful—and the contrast of it against the hand still holding her down made something twist low and hot in her stomach.
He moved slowly. Agonizingly slowly. Each push in and pull out measured and controlled in a way that felt completely at odds with the urgency he'd had two seconds ago.
It felt good—more than good—but it wasn't enough, and the word scraped at her with every careful stroke.
She wanted the roughness that had flipped her over without warning; The impatience he threw into every fight he picked; She wanted him to stop being careful with her.
The words were right there. She couldn't quite get them out.
She felt his grip twitch; turned her head—and found the copy had climbed onto the bed at some point, kneeling beside her, watching with wide eyes and flushed cheeks, its chest rising and falling hard.
Fluids still clung to its inner thighs.
Lucy could see its fingers twitching, restless, not sure what to do with themselves. The fabric of its shirt pulled taut over stiff nipples.
"Fuck," Natsu grunted behind her.
His pace snapped.
Finally.
Lucy's eyes blurred at the edges as he drove into her, each thrust pushing her further into the sheets, his grip shifting from her neck down to her waist to keep her anchored as he moved.
She couldn't look away from the copy; its expression a mirror she hadn't asked for, reflecting everything she couldn't see on her own face right now.
Her fingers uncurled from the sheets. Slowly, she pushed herself up.
Lucy stared at her copy for a second.
Natsu didn't know what she was thinking, and as long as she let him keep going, he told himself he didn't care.
Then she pulled up the copy's shirt and wrapped her lips around its nipple.
Fuck.
His cock pulsed hard inside her. He watched Lucy's tongue work slow circles, dragging slick trails across the copy's chest, and his grip on her hips tightened without meaning to.
"Fuck, that's hot." The words just fell out of him.
Lucy's pretty mouth curved into a smirk against the copy's skin without stopping.
The copy moaned, fingers coming up to pinch its other nipple, holding its shirt bunched against its chest.
Their sounds tangled together—Lucy's low and satisfied, the copy's breathless and needy—and Natsu's hips stuttered at the noise.
He felt her clench around him.
"Fuck, Lucy—I'm—"
He didn't finish.
Well, actually, he did—
The heat just rolled over him, his release pumping out in waves, filling her until he had nothing left. The warmth of her around him made it almost unbearably good, and even then, pulling out felt wrong. He wanted to stay. Wanted to watch her come apart again.
He pulled out with a grunt.
Lucy let go of the copy's chest and collapsed forward into the sheets with a long, high moan that hit him somewhere below the stomach.
He was already missing the heat of her.
His own chest was heaving, but his eyes were already moving: dragging down the line of her back, the flush spread across her skin, the way she lay spread out and glistening in front of him like she had no idea what she was doing to him.
He reached forward and flipped her over. Lucy's breath was still coming hard, chest rising and falling sharply, and Natsu palmed her breast and kneaded, watching her face as she whimpered and squirmed under his hands.
She looked wrecked: lips swollen, cheeks flushed dark, nipples stiff under his fingers. He wanted them in his mouth.
A high-pitched moan from beside them pulled his attention sideways.
The copy had its shirt pushed up, fingers working its own nipples, chasing its next high with Lucy's saliva still slick on its chest. It didn't look tired at all.
Which meant Lucy hadn't hit her limit yet.
The thought settled warm and interested in his gut. He rolled her nipple between his fingers and felt himself getting hard again.
"Hey, Lucy."
"Mmh?" She peeked at him from under the arm thrown over her face, another small moan slipping out at his touch.
"You're still not tapped out." His other hand skimmed firm and slow along her thigh. "Anything ya want?"
He wanted to go again—obviously—but she looked properly wrecked, and he wasn't going to push her into it.
Lucy lifted her head slightly, clocked that he was hard, and immediately dropped back onto the mattress. "I still—hnngg—need a minutaah."
"But the copy's still here," he said, because he had to.
Lucy groaned. He wasn't entirely sure it was just pleasure. "You can still fuck me to exhaustion after I'm back up—aahg. J–just give me five minutes."
Her moans kept slipping out under his hands, and the copy's echoed them from the side, and Natsu's grip tightened.
He frowned.
Lucy exhaled slowly. Then she sat up, took his hand in both of hers, and leaned in until her breath was warm against his ear.
"If you're that impatient," she murmured, voice dropping low and deliberate, "just fuck my copy till I'm back up."
Natsu's mouth went dry.
Lucy leaned back with a satisfied grin, already moving toward her pillow.
"W–wait, Lucy." He glanced at the copy, which had its hand extended toward him, still idly playing with its nipple. He forced his eyes away. "You sure that's—"
"You were the one teasing me about getting excited watching it." She settled back against the pillow. "Don't chicken out now."
She reached over and took the copy's hand, tugging it lightly. It turned on its own, dropping to all fours beside her without being asked, whimpering softly.
Lucy patted its head once, then reached beneath it and spread it open with two fingers, holding Natsu's gaze the entire time.
He swallowed hard.
"Besides." She pushed one finger slowly inside the copy, and it moaned into the sheets. "Isn't this basically just a doll version of me?" Her grin widened. "Ya won't get a chance like this again."
Natsu was already stroking himself.
He shuffled forward, his tip sliding between the copy's folds, catching against Lucy's fingers. When she circled him and pressed slightly inward, both he and the copy made a noise at the same time.
He glanced at Lucy. She was flushed from her cheeks all the way down her chest, grinning like she'd won something.
"Just do me a favor and come on me after."
His rhythm stuttered. The thought had already crossed his mind—he just hadn't expected her to say it out loud like that.
He grabbed the copy's hips and pushed in.
Its moans went muffled against the pillow. And despite knowing exactly what this was, the way it felt still caught him off guard: warm and slick and unmistakably, absurdly her.
He kept his eyes moving between the copy's back and Lucy lying beside it, close enough to touch, holding its hand loosely with her eyes half-shut.
Two of her.
It was the strangest thing he'd ever seen, and he couldn't look away.
He wondered where her boldness had come from and hoped she wasn't going to regret this when the heat wore off. Because she'd been right—it felt like a Lucy doll, and that was the only reason he could do this without it feeling wrong; A hollow shell. A copy with no one home behind the eyes.
He thrust harder. The copy screamed its moans into the pillow, tears pricking at the corners of its vacant eyes, fingers knotted in the fabric right next to Lucy's face. Natsu's jaw tightened. His cock twitched at the image.
He could feel it building again.
The copy shuddered under him, release coating him as it came, and Natsu grunted low. "Lucy."
No response.
The copy tapped weakly against her arm.
Lucy's eyes fluttered open. She blinked at the copy for a moment, then gave it a quiet, small thank you that Natsu hadn't expected—and something in his chest did something he also hadn't expected.
She rolled onto her back and opened her legs.
Natsu thrusted into the copy two, three more times, pulled out, then shifted forward and settled between Lucy's thighs.
He pumped himself once before his release came—covering her stomach, her chest, catching her face despite his attempts at aim.
He finished with a heavy exhale and sat back.
Lucy dragged a finger across her cheek and licked it clean, completely unbothered.
Damn.
At this rate, he was just going to be hard again in thirty seconds. She laughed at whatever his face was doing.
"And?" She tilted her head. "Does its pussy feel like mine?"
He could only nod.
She patted the copy's head, amused. "Hope ya won't miss it too much when it's gone."
The copy stirred. It leaned over Lucy slowly, and then lowered its head and lapped his cum off her chest, tongue dragging careful and thorough across her skin.
Lucy moaned quietly. Both their nipples stiffened. Honestly, he did too. But somehow he only wanted to watch.
He settled between Lucy's thighs and ran his hands along her legs, almost without thinking.
She squirmed under his touch, heat rising off her skin, and his hand had already wrapped around his length before he'd consciously decided to do anything about it.
He was getting hard again—fast, despite having just finished—her moans and the copy's mouth working slowly at her nipples doing more than enough to get him there.
Then the copy shifted, climbing higher over Lucy and blocking his view entirely.
His brow furrowed.
But when he looked down, his irritation dissolved into something else.
The copy's ass flush in front of him, and beyond it, Lucy's legs spread wide, her pussy still slick and dripping with what he'd left in her. The heat in his chest dropped lower and settled there.
He could hear Lucy getting louder beneath whatever the copy was doing. He didn't want to miss that.
He pressed the copy's hips down, pushing its folds flat against Lucy's. Both of them cried out at the contact, sudden and sharp, and Natsu's jaw tightened at the sound. His hand was unsteady as he slid his length between them—feeling both their heat at once, their wetness slicking him easily.
His breath hissed out through his teeth. "Fuck."
Their moans bled together into something muffled and distant as sensation swallowed his focus whole.
His lips twitched—somewhere between a grimace and a grin—stifling the groan trying to claw its way out.
This would be over in ten seconds if he kept going.
He pulled back, angled down along Lucy's folds until he felt the give of her entrance, and pushed in.
She clenched around him immediately, walls pulling tight.
He looked up. She was holding the copy's hand, its face buried in her shoulder as it ground itself against his shaft and her folds at the same time.
Natsu grabbed her ankle, hauled her leg up for a better angle, and picked up his pace.
Her moans climbed higher.
His bangs were plastered to his forehead. His vision was going hazy at the edges, sound and sensation and heat blurring together until there wasn't much room left for thinking.
She was so wet he had to shorten his strokes, going deeper instead, his tip hitting the end of her with every thrust, a grunt punched out of him each time. His rhythm had stopped being careful several minutes ago.
He wanted more of her. Wanted to hear his name louder.
When she shook beneath him—back arching, chest pressing hard into the copy—her body let go all at once.
Slick heat flooded out of her, soaking him, dripping down his length and across the sheets. Natsu's groan came out low and ragged as he slid free, her name still breaking apart on her lips, her fluids running down him in rivulets.
He stared at her for a second, chest heaving.
More.
The word sat blunt and animal in the back of his head.
More of that.
But Lucy was barely holding herself together, and the copy was already pressing back against him, chasing its own high.
He grabbed its ass, spread it open, and heard it whimper at the stretch.
Then something knocked against his ribs. Not a thought, more like a pulse.
Her voice: First.
He exhaled through his nose and pulled back.
His thumb pressed firm against the copy's other entrance—closing it off—as he slid into its pussy instead, setting a pace with no patience left in it.
The copy took it with a muffled, broken moan into the pillow, its hips jolting with every thrust.
His thumb stayed where it was, feeling it clench and pulse, and his mind briefly, traitorously, supplied an image of Lucy in its place—on all fours, his hand on her lower back.
He shoved the thought down. Mostly.
His grip tightened. Only a few more—
His hands hit empty air.
His climax crashed through him anyway, release spilling out across Lucy's stomach and chest as his hips stuttered through it. He rode it out with his eyes screwed shut, pulse thundering, and when he finally blinked his vision clear—
The copy was…gone.
Just gone. Mid-thrust, mid-grip. Nothing left in his hands but air.
He looked at Lucy.
She was spread beneath him, naked, covered in him, completely asleep. Her face was calm. Peaceful, even. Like none of the last however-long had happened at all.
Natsu sat back and stared at her.
His chest was still heaving. It took him a genuine moment to work through it—all of it—like the whole thing had been some overheated fever dream that had somehow left him with aching thighs and Lucy passed out in front of him.
He looked down.
Frowned.
He was getting hard again.
He exhaled long and slow through his nose and told his body firmly that they were done. He was tired. He could tell he was tired. That was final.
He pushed off the bed and made his way to her bathroom, found a towel, came back, and started carefully cleaning her up.
"Thanks for not putting it in its ass."
He nearly dropped the towel.
Lucy was watching him from under half-lidded eyes, a lazy, satisfied smile pulling at her mouth.
He managed a shaky grin and kept wiping. "Don't worry. Can still do it tomorrow with the real deal."
He got the last of it, tossed the towel to the floor, and climbed over her to lie down beside her.
"Ew, you're all sweaty." She made a half-hearted attempt to push him off, but every point of contact just stuck them together. She gave up quickly.
Natsu chuckled and pressed closer, deliberately dragging himself against her.
"Stop it—" She laughed despite herself, breathless. "Wouldn't have even made a difference, you know. Her or me."
Natsu let the laugh settle.
He loosened his grip, just enough to pull back and look at her properly: her face close to his, brown eyes reflecting him back, soft and warm and half-asleep. He held there a second longer than necessary.
"Nah." He brushed a strand of hair off her face. "It smelled different. Something else felt off, too."
Lucy raised an eyebrow. "You mean besides the obvious speech impairment?"
He looked at her, caught off guard. "You mean that was different than norm—Ow!"
"Ha. Ha." She enunciated each syllable, flat and pointed, before rolling away from him.
Natsu rubbed his arm, grinning, then reached over and pulled her back against his chest, tucking his face into her shoulder. "Just kidding."
He felt her roll her eyes. Could practically hear it.
"Nah, I mean it," he mumbled, quieter now.
She found his hand and held it against her chest without comment.
"I can always tell it's you." His thumb moved slowly across her knuckles. "So don't worry about me tryin' it with anyone—" a beat, "—or anything—else."
"Charming," she said. Dry as anything.
But her heartbeat kicked up under his palm, quick and honest, and Natsu decided that was more than enough of an answer. He didn't say anything back—just held her tighter, pressed his nose into her hair, and took a slow breath in: his Lucy.