by Raletha
Disclaimer: Gundam Wing is copyrighted to Sunrise, Bandai, and the Sotsu Agency. I'm not making any money off this.
Thanks: Anne for the encouragement, long conversations about the characters, comments in progress, and beta reading & also to Maureen for her lovely comments whilst I was writing. Thanks!!
Dedication: Of course, this one is for you, Anne.
Feedback to: geekpuella@yahoo.com
] previously [
"This has been pretty close to a perfect day." Trowa commented with a warm smile directed at Quatre as the two entered their home.
"Only pretty close?" Quatre spoke over his shoulder with feigned disappointment while he moved into the kitchen to put their backpack down on the counter.
"It's not over yet... " came Trowa's tone behind him - now smooth and seductive. Soon Quatre found himself being pulled back against his lover's hard, warm body. Trowa's breath was soft behind his ear preceding a whispering caress of lips.
"Oh? So what else did you have in mind?" Quatre abandoned his emptying of the backpack to lean into Trowa's embrace.
"I was thinking you might like to join me for a shower before we go to bed." Hands on his arms turned him around to face his lover. Darkening green eyes met Quatre's gaze as Trowa bowed his head, lips drawing closer to Quatre's.
"Sounds good. And then what?" Quatre murmured against that seeking mouth, parting his lips in an invitation to his partner's tongue to play.
"And then it will be perfect." was the emphatic whisper before Trowa pulled Quatre closer for a lingering kiss.
******
Pulling back from his blond lover to catch his breath, Trowa was reminded of earlier in the day, when they had been interrupted so rudely in the Kiwi House. With Quatre now pressed against him, hard and eager, Trowa was consumed by a hunger to finish what he had intended then. In the low silvery light of the kitchen with its crisp modern lines and gleaming stainless steel appliances, Quatre's complexion was washed out and pearlescent, his hair glowing more platinum than gold. That ethereal colouring combined with the near delicacy of Quatre's features and form lent an almost surreal quality to the moment. Thus enchanted by his lover, Trowa pressed his lips to each of Quatre's closed eyelids, followed by a ravishing kiss to Quatre's slackened mouth before dropping to his knees and tugging down his lover's shorts and boxers.
"Wha...?" Quatre's gasped exclamation turned to a sharp cry as Trowa gripped his hips and closed his mouth over his erection. Initial surprise rapidly metamorphosed into incendiary desire; Trowa felt the tendrils of Quatre's passion writhing through his consciousness, tangling with his own increasing arousal. The brunet pushed forward, taking in more of Quatre's length, suckling and rubbing the delicious flesh vigorously with his tongue. Experience had taught him the swiftest and surest combination of oral techniques to bring Quatre's control crashing down most rapidly and to send him spiraling into ecstasy. Employing them all, he moved his hands to his partner's waist to help support the blond who was now leaning forward somewhat, knees weakened, bracing himself with hands on Trowa's shoulders.
Just as he felt the tension in Quatre's body approach the precipitous verge of release and he heard the boy's moans increasing in both pitch and frequency, Trowa backed off gently, allowing Quatre to hover briefly in a moment of torturous anticipation. The blond whimpered unintelligibly, fingers clenching in frustration before Trowa reapplied himself to pleasuring Quatre with only slightly diminished fervor. He repeated this - bringing Quatre to the brink and backing off before resuming at an ever so slightly slower pace - until there was no longer any means to delay or obstruct the tide of sensation overtaking his lover.
A throaty groan that sounded as if it had been pulled from the deepest reaches of his being issued from his partner as Quatre began to shudder and quake, the vaulted ceiling of deferred pleasure now crumbling and caving in about him. Trowa held him as the slim form collapsed, quivering still as Quatre climaxed long and hard. Through this he cradled his lover in his mouth, taking his own pleasure in accepting all of the salty warmth that spilled forth from pulsing flesh.
After the last of his lover's tremors had faded, Trowa withdrew his mouth from Quatre's spent body and sprawled backwards to lean against the kitchen cabinets. He pulled the smaller boy down to tumble, boneless, into his lap. The brunet slid his hands up under his partner's T-shirt to stroke the supple skin of his back, nuzzling the sweetly scented, damp locks at his temple.
Quatre snuggled against him, pleasantly pliable and warm, pressing moist kisses along Trowa's neck and cheek, before murmuring, "That was... ah... somewhat unexpected... Not that I'm complaining, of course. But, what about the shower?"
"What makes you think we're finished?" Trowa turned his head sideways to awkwardly nudge his lips into contact with Quatre's. The blond responded by shifting back so that their mouths could meet more comfortably. In an alternating fashion, Trowa lightly tugged at each of Quatre's lips with his own, running his tongue across the soft, trapped flesh and suckling gently. Without breaking that contact, Trowa felt Quatre rise above him to straddle his legs. Slender hands moved across his cotton-clad chest and down his abdomen as the blond advanced on him, now dominating and deepening the kiss and forcing Trowa's head back until it collided with the cold hardness of the cabinet door behind him. Now, Quatre was lightly scraping his short fingernails over the rigid swelling of Trowa's erection. The brunet sighed at the contact, lifting his hips in an effort to increase that delightful pressure.
Quatre relinquished the kiss to finally respond, though his fingers kept at their subtle teasing of Trowa's crotch, "Good, because I'm certainly not finished with you..."
Trowa met the hooded gaze of his partner and moved a hand to stroke suggestively between Quatre's naked buttocks, "Actually, I was hoping to... "
Quatre cut him off with a passion-dark laugh and a smirk, "You'll have to wait your turn," turquoise eyes flashed before he continued in a slightly ominous tone, "and you will have your turn..."
"Oh, I do love it when you're bossy," Trowa answered the smirk with his own.
******
In the soft light seeping through the fog, standing surrounded by the hot, pelting drops of three showerheads, the vanilla scented mist swirled around Quatre, who was twined together with the slick, glistening body of his lover. Everything was so hot - the air thick with sultry moisture, the nearly scalding temperature of the water, the slippery smoldering of Trowa's naked flesh everywhere it slid against him, and the ever-increasing heat of his own need. Hands were slowly massaging his lower back as Trowa ground their hips together with torturous indolence.
Drinking deeply of Trowa's water drenched lips, Quatre groped again for the bottle on the ledge beside him and squeezed a fresh handful of shower gel into his hands. With some reluctance he eased his body back from where he'd been pressed so pleasurably against his beloved. He rubbed his palms together forming a rich lather, maintaining the sweltering tangle formed by his and Trowa's tongues. Applying his hands to the firm expanse of his partner's chest, they traveled a sensuous and soapy voyage across that smooth terrain. The trails of fine bubbles left in their wake mixed with fresh water, and were diluted into milky streams, dribbling down pale cinnamon skin. Quatre broke away from the kiss as his hands wandered lower to Trowa's sculpted abdomen. Meeting the dusky green gaze briefly he lowered his head, open mouthed, to the flesh before him. Chasing the prior paths of his hands with lips and tongue, Quatre's mouth lingered to flick a glancing contact over tender nipples before moving back up to capture Trowa's lips once more in a fervid, liquid embrace.
His hands continued meandering downward until his wrists brushed against the steely evidence of Trowa's desire, causing the brunet to thrum with pleasure and roll his hips forward, increasing the slight friction. Not one to disappoint, Quatre answered by taking possession of the rigid shaft with strong slender fingers. Alternating hands, he applied slick pulling stokes along the entire length of Trowa's cock - starting the next before the preceding hand had finished its journey. His tall lover groaned at the stimulation, breaking their oral contact to throw his head back against the shower wall, exposing a delectable expanse of graceful neck to Quatre's questing mouth. His hands, at Quatre's back, slid now to grip the blond's hips, fingers clenching and releasing with each movement of Quatre's hands.
It was with concerted effort - Quatre could sense it - that Trowa dropped his head forward once more and spoke. "So... how do you want me?" came the humid purr near Quatre's ear, sending a delightful trickle of ardent expectation down the blond's spine.
"Hmm," Quatre began as he collected his senses enough for speech, and contemplated the answer while removing his hands from their manipulations and his lips from their explorations. He stepped back, his hands finding and clasping Trowa's, to look over his shoulder at the one mirrored wall of the octagonal shower room, "I think... I think I'd like you facing the mirror." It had been, after all, part of Quatre's commitment to the peculiar design of his bathroom - that it too be a chamber for play and pleasure. The single mirrored wall of the limestone-clad shower room sat opposite the one with the low seat and adjacent to one of the three showerheads he had insisted upon. Heating coils had been installed behind the glass to prevent it from steaming up through the temperature and moisture of an extended shower session.
"Mm, so - how?", Trowa bent further forward, drawing near, to lick and kiss Quatre's closest ear; his voice was thick and sensuous, "How do you want to take me... Quatre...?"
The blond shivered. Hearing Trowa speak his name like that -- and not the usual nickname -- while feeling the underlying desire, hearing it in the tender and low vibration of his lover's voice over the final syllable - he felt doubly flushed and, despite his earlier release, nearly painfully aroused. He wanted... he wanted Trowa, "On your knees..."
Locking his gaze with Quatre and not relinquishing his hold on Quatre's hands, Trowa dropped smoothly to the floor. His upturned face was graced by one of his more rare expressions - the candid yet slightly shy smile the brunet adopted whenever their loveplay found him in the more passive role. The blond's hands were tugged in encouragement. The relinquishing of control continued to be somewhat of a struggle for his lover - and despite Trowa's evident enthusiasm, his acceptance of Quatre's lead constituted an act of most profound trust. Thus feeling the flutter of trepidation under Trowa's more prominent blanket of love and desire, Quatre released one hand to run his fingers through Trowa's wet hair and lowered himself with a smile tempered to assuage apprehension. He scooted closer, squeezing the long fingers that twined with his own, pulling Trowa in for a lingering kiss. An arm slid around his waist, drawing their lower bodies into thrilling proximity. Quatre moved his lips in a slow dance of reassurance, soothing away the traces of Trowa's hesitancy with tender care.
His head listed sideways as agile lips meandered from his mouth to glide along his jaw to his ear. Shivering as he felt ticklish licks tracing the delicate form of his ear, he managed to speak, "Mmm, love...?"
"Hmm?" The titillation at his ear drizzled down his neck.
"Ah, are you sure... sure you still want... me to... ?" Quatre broke off arching into Trowa's delicious distraction with a happy sigh.
His lover didn't reply immediately, now single-mindedly pursuing a languid nibbling at Quatre's shoulder, but just as the blond was beginning to doubt his partner had heard him, the mouth receded and breathed an answering syllable, "Yes."
Pressing more caresses onto his lover, Quatre responded by releasing his hand and moving behind Trowa. The brunet spread his legs to accommodate Quatre's positioning to kneel behind and under him. Reaching up to the ledge above, Quatre fumbled for the small bottle of almond bath oil. Unstopping it, he held it under the shelter of his bent body, his forehead against Trowa's back, to pour a generous handful and smooth it over his hard arousal. Tilting his head to lazily massage the flesh before him with lips and tongue he poured another portion of the unction into his hand before reaching between Trowa's legs and applying the slippery stuff to the hot, sensitive region therein. Slick fingertips found the tense ring of muscle guarding his lover's entrance. Gingerly, he began to ease his index finger past that reluctant tightness. Trowa shifted uncomfortably above him in response to the intrusion, but Quatre could also feel the brunet focusing to relax with deep, even breaths. As his fingers cajoled resistant muscles into capitulation, he moved his other arm around his lover to stroke delicately along the swollen length of Trowa's erection.
At length - after uncooperative tension had blossomed into compliance, and Quatre sensed the flames of his lover's desire once more burning at full intensity - he removed his fingers from Trowa's body and used that hand to further part firm buttocks, while with the other he shifted to position the head of his own cock. Thus poised, Quatre moved his hands to rest on Trowa's hips and raised his eyes to look past Trowa. Briefly, he met his own glazed blue-green regard and smothered an ironic grin against his lover's shoulder before shifting his attention to the spectacle that made him breathless with lust.
Warm skin tones covered in a glossy film of water, sweat, and soapy residue glowed over the sleek, defined physique which was taut with passion as Trowa bent back, reaching behind himself to clasp Quatre's elbows. Spread thighs tensed over Quatre's lap, while his lover's proud, flushed organ swayed with the force of Trowa's breathing. The brunet's head had lolled back, displaying the elegant column of his throat, the fine lines of his neck and collarbone, and the chiseled structure of his jaw. With eyes fluttering closed, and kiss-bruised lips parted, he was a portrait of carnal indulgence and beauty painted onto the glass canvas of the facing mirror.
Eyes riveted on that wanton display, Quatre pressed up against Trowa gently - just a nudge - while applying pressure downward on his lover's hips - a suggestion. Fortifying himself against the yearning for the rapture he knew he would find in his beloved, he steeled himself to remain motionless and allow Trowa to control the union of their bodies. Eyes closed and brow furrowed, the brunet stirred and began to press back and down onto Quatre. With feline grace, Trowa lifted and bowed his head, his back arching and thighs flexing as he slowly impaled himself, encasing the blond's most sensitive shaft in gradual, mind-bending ecstasy. Breathing heavily, Quatre moved his arms to gather Trowa further against him during his glorious descent. Once fully seated within his lover's body, Quatre relaxed the grip on his will and with a deep shudder, surrendered to the intensity of sensation and emotion of the moment.
Luxuriating in the delirium of the passion suffusing his consciousness, he leaned against Trowa, pushing him slightly off balance. Returning his hands to his lover's waist and rising up on his knees he managed to maintain their intimate embrace as Trowa fell forward to all fours. Struggling to catch his breath, he paused before wriggling his hips from side to side and edging as deeply as he could into his partner. Warm drops rained down in a random staccato mingling with sweat as the two rested for a moment in anticipation, to quietly relish the closeness of their joining - Quatre, sunk in the gloriously hot, rippling tightness of his beloved's body, drowning in the heady joy of their intimacy yet buoyed by the twinges of pleasure and desire swimming between them. Trowa's breath was shallow, his head hanging between his elbows, as Quatre skimmed one hand up his water-slick spine to nestle in the short hair at the back of his skull, rubbing fingertips in small circular massages. The blond stretched over his partner's back, panting, to rest his head, feeling the deep rhythm of the heartbeat reverberating under his cheek while he snaked his other arm around Trowa's chest. He turned to press a series of lingering kisses onto the smoothly muscled back before looking up. Gently he tugged at Trowa's sodden hair, compelling the youth to raise his head and meet his teal regard in the mirror.
"Cat...?" was the raggedly breathed query.
"Want to... ah... see your face..." he explained in equally ragged breaths. And with that, Quatre eased his pelvis back slowly, pulling out of the intoxicating haven of Trowa nearly completely. Passion-slack features twitched and green eyes flickered shut for a moment, but opened again, dazed and glassy. Tightening the arm about Trowa's upper body, Quatre swung his hips forward, gasping at the heady sensation of tight heat yielding to him, surrounding him, welcoming him. Trowa shuddered, elbows trembling, biting his lips closed and suppressing a barely audible moan. The next stroke forced a sharp exhalation from his beloved as Quatre stepped up the force of his movements. The blond released Trowa's hair to wrap his other arm about his partner, dragging Trowa harder against him with each inbound lunge.
It was a struggle not to relinquish the reflected eye contact, but Quatre kept his eyes fixed ahead and open. The sliding of their bodies together educed such exquisite contortions of Trowa's typically stoic features, driving Quatre's pleasure to ever increasing heights. Each heavenly thrust into his lover was now punctuated by an inarticulate, vowel tinged utterance as Trowa rocked forward beneath him, before pushing back just as he was pulled to meet the next incoming stroke.
Moving thus in tandem, Quatre found himself soon experiencing the hot and cold waves of his gathering climax. All pleasurable sensation rushed and flowed from his extremities to condense in a dizzying whirlpool of rapture. He cried out, dropping his head to bury the sounds of his exultation into his partner's shoulder as the crest of his orgasm overtook him. With a final, deep plunge into Trowa he came. Below him and around him Quatre felt Trowa begin to shake, the walls that held him now pulling him into a pulsating iron grip while his partner whimpered in the throes of his own gratification.
Trowa collapsed beneath him into an uncomfortable sprawl on the shower floor. Quatre followed him down before carefully disengaging from his partner's sated form and rolling sideways to lie beside Trowa. Though the floor was a brutally unyielding surface, the water pattering down was soothing to their flushed, hypersensitive skin. Lulled thus, the pair lay together awkwardly for a time while their bodies cooled.
Eventually, Trowa stirred. "Ow," he muttered, "floor's hard." Moving stiffly, he maneuvered to sit with legs folded sideways beneath him. He rubbed at his neck with one hand while extending the other to assist Quatre in rising.
Accepting the proffered hand, the blond struggled up to sit cross-legged, before his partner. "We should probably finish getting clean now, huh?" he observed with a grin.
******
Stretched out on his side with his head pillowed on one bent elbow, Quatre lay on the low bed facing the doors of their ensuite, still feeling deliciously clean, warm, and relaxed from the shower. The jewel toned damask bed linens were a pleasant, cool silkiness beneath his heat and water sensitized skin. He squirmed against them happily and closed his eyes, shifting his concentration to feeling Trowa, who was still in the bathroom doing something to his hair. The emotions from his partner were a pleasant buzz of comfort and affection. It was one of Quatre's favourite aspects of their lovemaking - sensing Trowa's unguarded and lax state afterwards.
But, they weren't quite finished with their evening. Soon Trowa would be coming to join him in bed. Gauging how to best present himself for his lover's initial entrance to the chamber, Quatre bent his top leg to drape demurely over his crotch and extended his free arm towards the edge of the bed in languid invitation. He shook his head, allowing his hair to fall in a random mass of damp flaxen waves, and cultivated a small, secretive smile.
That smile deepened as the soft strains of Trowa's tenor filtered to Quatre's ears. His lover was absently humming the piano piece they'd been practicing that week. He heard soft footfalls approach from the bathroom, padding over the hardwood floor of the bedroom, and then being muffled by the plush rug which lay with the bed centered upon it. He felt Trowa's eyes on him, his partner now radiating an aroused and anticipant amusement.
"That's a sight I could get used to..." came the warm voice from somewhere near, but not near enough. Quatre opened his eyes, his gaze alighting on the graceful form of his delightfully nude partner who stood just a few feet away regarding him with a subtle mix of desire and adoration.
"I'm not going anywhere." Quatre replied in a velvet intonation, lazily reaching toward Trowa in entreaty, and shifting his body slightly in sensual proposition.
Eager acceptance shaded widening emerald eyes, "Good." The brunet stepped closer and dropped to kneel beside the bed, taking Quatre's outstretched hand. Rubbing small circles onto the palm with his thumb, he turned the hand to run his lips along each slender digit before replacing that thumb with a soft, lingering kiss into the center of the sensitive flesh.
"You feel happy." Quatre noted, savouring the warmth of Trowa's emotional state just as he savoured the play of those wondrous lips across his skin.
"Probably because I am." Trowa replied without lifting his head and proceeded to work his mouth up to Quatre's wrist, flicking his tongue across the fine patterned relief of the underlying structure. Now, he strung a thread of feathery kisses along the length of inner arm stopping just short of the ticklish region inside Quatre's elbow.
Quatre shivered pleasantly before Trowa relinquished his arm and rose to crawl upon the bed and stretch out facing, but not quite touching, him. The blond watched Trowa watching him for a time, noting the way the green eyes slid over his face, the way their pupils further dilated in response to Trowa's observance.
"Are you still up for another round?" Trowa asked presently, reaching to stroke a solitary finger down the length of Quatre's thigh.
"Oh, I will be." Quatre responded with a grin, but made no move to return the caress, instead contenting himself with the quietude of the moment. In fact, lying like this, both of them enjoying a comfortable sort of anticipation and closeness, it reminded Quatre of a night many, many months ago. That night on Peacemillion - it was before Trowa's memories had returned. They'd taken to stealing time together whenever they were able, and had been sprawled on Quatre's berth, still in their spacesuits, relaxing after a particularly grueling outing in their Gundams. He remembered it so vividly - the closeness of their friendship, the comfort of having gotten to know each other again since the Zero incident, and the anticipation that sparked between them as they were both coming to realise that their friendship was reaching the point where it could easily become so much more. It was that night during which Trowa had first kissed him.
His lover's melodic tones roused him from the recollection, "What are you thinking about?"
He blinked, focusing on Trowa's face, "That night on Peacemillion when you kissed me," he confessed his grin turning rather sheepish.
Trowa smiled at that, a wide, warm smile which even displayed a white sliver of teeth, "That was a good night." The stroking finger on Quatre's thigh became a massaging hand.
Quatre paused, indulging the mostly innocent caress, then asked, "Were you nervous?"
"Of course I was... I was afraid I'd scare you again." Trowa spoke softly, lowering his eyes to watch the journey of his hand from Quatre's thigh to his hipbone.
"You didn't though." Quatre reassured, though it was unnecessary, reaching to rest his fingertips at the side of Trowa's face.
"No... no, I suppose not," the brunet acknowledged, raising his eyes once more, their aspect now nostalgic, sentimental.
"And you know..." Quatre paused, surprised to feel his face heating slightly, "I was going to kiss you - if you hadn't beaten me to it... I think it was the right moment for us."
"Really?"
"Really."
"I didn't know that." Trowa's voice was soft again, his fingertips idly tracing spirals and curlicues onto Quatre's skin.
"I didn't tell you." Quatre matched his lover's tone, now sliding his fingers across Trowa's cheek and temple, "But - sometimes I wish I had been a little braver and kissed you first." he glanced away briefly, his words now thoughtful, "I wonder what that would have been like. How you would have reacted..."
"Hmm. Well..." Trowa's eyes sparkled, but his smile turned slightly bashful, "We could pretend - just for now."
"Pretend?" Quatre asked, confused as Trowa removed his hand from the blond.
"That we've never kissed. You can kiss me for the first time." Trowa responded while taking Quatre's hand from his cheek and placing it along the smaller boy's side. He then retracted his arm once more so the only contact between them was visual.
"We're naked, it's not that credible, you know."
"Just look at my face - and imagine we're back then, that night." Trowa instructed, ever pragmatic.
Or perhaps ever romantic, Quatre amended and then spoke, "Okay. I'll try."
He tried to fix his gaze solemnly on Trowa's face; tried to remember what it had been like before he'd known the glory that was his lover's kiss. Instead, he found an insistent amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth, trying to jerk his face into a lopsided smirk. It was a difficult situation to both imagine and believe, given the events of the previous hours. He saw a similar battle being played out on Trowa's face as the brunet's lips quirked, and his eyes creased at the edges.
"This isn't going to work. You know I'm going to kiss you," he complained finally, letting his face have its way,
"No I don't." Trowa spoke seriously in protest, but his failing struggle to contain his own amused grin belied his emotional state - that and the humour Quatre could feel radiating from him.
Quatre frowned, reassessing the situation. It was still worth a shot, and Trowa felt genuinely intrigued. "Okay, Okay.... here we go - and don't smile like that."
"Sorry." The grin vanished.
"No, you're not." Quatre resisted responding further, knowing any chance to salvage their reenactment depended upon his restraint in that regard.
And with that they both finally did sober. Quatre gazed upon the face of his beloved - it was such a familiar sight to him now - the face he saw first thing every morning and last thing every night. It was the face he'd seen wracked by unfathomable pain and sorrow, yet it was also the face he had so recently seen held in the thrall of ecstasy. And, it was the face whose native, calm expressions made his heart leap every time he laid eyes upon them. Trowa's expression now was one of patient expectation. Just as it had been. Perhaps it wasn't so hard to pretend...
Quatre let his eyes slip to Trowa's mouth. It was that graceful and seductive curve which had fascinated him then, and continued to fascinate him into the present. The slight rosy tint of firm lips - he imagined they were smooth though, soft like silk against bare skin. He thought about how sensitive his own lips were, how they would feel pressed to the others - and now, he was drawn to satiate that curiosity.
Hesitantly he bent his head forward in an initial overture, his eyes jumping between Trowa's eyes and mouth to evaluate the other boy's reception of his intent. Emerald eyes widened imperceptibly while lips parted in a relaxed assent. Quatre tilted his head now slightly, decreasing the distance between them until he felt the other's breath across his own lips. "Trowa ... " he breathed quietly, and stopped his progress, allowing the brunet the opportunity to pull back if he so desired. Instead, Trowa closed his eyes.
Time hung in the brief span of several shallow inhalations. Ensnared by the fantasy, Quatre imagined he had never before so much to lose - nor so much to gain - as he did then. In that moment, his heart beating a dull memory of time, he leaned in towards the taller boy, parting his lips, closing the remaining space between them. As his lips imparted a hesitant caress across Trowa's, it seemed as if the universe were closing in around him; the only thing in existence was that tentative contact. Soft flesh melded together, breaths mingled, and two souls touched in a fleeting moment of concord that would forever change them.
Slowly, reluctantly, Quatre withdrew his mouth from Trowa's, and in a shaky whisper inquired, "How was that?"
Trowa's eyes drifted open, slightly dazed. The brunet edged closer to wrap an arm around Quatre and pull the smaller boy close, "Mmm, good, very good... magnificent... incomparable..." Trowa's gaze now turned hungry, and his tone grew lush and seductive like a hot tropical night, "But, I want more..." That mellow sound crawled into Quatre, igniting a flickering flame that trickled through his limbs and nestled in his groin. Further stoking the heat of his reawakening, Trowa's mouth closed over his, its attitude matching Trowa's sultry intonation. The kiss was not tentative in the least, but rather ravenous - nearly insatiably so. Quatre moaned as his jaw was forced wide open by the ardor with which Trowa applied himself. Surrendering wholly to his partner's passion, Quatre allowed himself to be rolled onto his back with Trowa's body covering him, hot, insistent, and demanding. Finally, Trowa pulled back, his eyes dark, lips flushed and coated with a sheen of saliva. "Much more..." he whispered before lowering his head again.
The blazing tempest of Trowa's mouth devoured him, mind body, and soul. Intoxicating, liquid heat glazed from his mouth across his face, down his neck. Suckling warmth flowed over his collarbone, lingering on first one nipple, then the other. Wide sweeps of Trowa's tongue melted across his abdomen while strong hands moved to grasp his thighs, drawing them apart so that Trowa could settle between his legs. Nuzzling his face against Quatre's waist, Trowa paused, panting. "Quatre..." he mumbled, speaking as if that word held his salvation.
Maintaining only the weakest grip on his coherency, Quatre quivered, gasping for air in the wake of his partner's ravenous, sanity-stealing appetite. He tangled one hand in Trowa's hair and gathered himself to reply hoarsely, "Don't stop... please, don't stop..."
Wordlessly, his lover rose and crawled to the nightstand, fumbling in the drawer for a moment before returning to hover over Quatre. Quatre found himself being studied in ardent contemplation as green eyes narrowed appraisingly, sweeping across his breathless form like those of a starving man at a banquet. Trowa reached to grab a one of the large, decorative cushions from the head of the bed. It was a plush, overstuffed thing of raw silk in a vibrant shade of sapphire. "Lift your hips," he prompted. Pressing up from his heels, Quatre complied, arching his back high to permit his partner to place the pillow under his pelvis. Trowa's eyes glittered appreciatively at the unselfconscious display before Quatre settled, hips raised.
"Close your eyes," was the next suggestion. Vibrating in anticipation, Quatre acquiesced, and his senses dwindled by one. Concentrating on what remained, he noted the fine fabric under his back was smoother than the more textured covering of the cushion supporting him - though both were soft. A whispering rustle and the shifting slide of skin against his legs told him his lover was moving on the bed. He could smell Trowa too, freshly clean and warm accompanied by the slight rosemary tang of his shampoo. In his mouth, he held the remnants of flavour from his partner's cinnamon toothpaste. But, ricocheting through and dominating all of these was Trowa's simmering, imperative desire.
Hands gripped his thighs, lifting his legs and tilting his pelvis. After that contact receded, Quatre, feeling along his partner's body with one leg, drew it up the outside of Trowa's arm to drape the limb over one shoulder. The other leg he spread more widely and bent at the knee to hook about Trowa's torso. Sliding through that embrace, Trowa lowering himself. The blond's breath hitched as fingers suddenly emerged to sketch briefly, deliriously along one thigh before traveling inward and lower to cradle the tender pouch between his legs. He whimpered as he felt a lubricated finger easing into him while simultaneously, Trowa's mouth closed over the head of his aching arousal. With uncanny deftness, Trowa played his most sensitive regions as if he'd been born to the task, leaving Quatre writhing and sobbing incoherently as wave after relentless wave of delicious sensation washed over him.
Then it stopped; the stimulation retreated. In that fleeting and unwelcome absence of touch, formless entreaties burned from Quatre's lips as his painfully inflamed passions demanded quenching.
His eyes snapped open just as Trowa repositioned himself, hands caressing the tender flesh of Quatre's inner thighs in a provocative dance. Darkening green eclipsed radiant turquoise. Then - abruptly - with a solitary, urgent movement, Trowa entered him. Quatre cried out as his body was forced open in the wake of that sudden, thick penetration. He groped blindly for his lover; his fingers grasped hard, kinetic flesh as Trowa withdrew and, without pause, surged back in to bury himself deeply in Quatre's willing, craving body.
"Tro....OH!" he managed, the utterance shaped by the now thundering tempo of his partner's thrusts, "... AH!"
Trowa moved with a certain desperation, striving as if he could find a perfect rhythm, a perfect intensity to their joining that would result in more than just a physical union. Quatre sought to answer that desperation for such an ephemeral conjunction as he experienced every millimeter of friction acutely, profoundly through the juxtaposition of feeling wrought by his empathy.
Dizzy and drunk with this sensation - both embodied and ethereal - Quatre was rendered helpless against the inexorable, glacial pressure building within him. However, the pace of their coupling did slow marginally as Trowa bent near to bury his lips in the hollow below Quatre's jaw, under his ear. Trowa's hand slid up the leg Quatre had draped over his shoulder and neck to grip the back of his knee. The limb was pushed back, so that he found it nearly in contact with his underarm. Tightening the grip of his other leg about Trowa's waist, he struggled to flex his hips in time with the even, ecstatic stroking of his body.
Quatre's awareness constricted until there was only the symphony of the marriage of their bodies. His ragged cries mingled with the softer exhalations of Trowa's exertion, their flesh impacting, sensation ebbing and flowing - ever heightening - now rising and contracting into indescribable rapture, hovering for a brief moment, and then bursting, blooming into the multifaceted bliss of completion.
Gripped in the paroxysm of release, he dimly heard Trowa calling his name, felt himself gathered tightly in his lover's arms as, with a final vehement shove into his quaking body, Trowa came into him with the shuddering force of an avalanche.
Quatre found himself returning to reality still gripped tightly in his partner's embrace; Trowa's breathing was hot and erratic against his neck, and their bodies slick with sweat and the evidence of Quatre's orgasm. Quatre relaxed his own hold on the brunet, moving his hands to trace nonsense patterns on Trowa's back. After a time, his lover rose with weary effort and disengaged with a soft groan. He tugged away the cushion, tossing it carelessly over the side of the bed, to allow Quatre to settle more comfortably beneath him. Their eyes met as Trowa gingerly lowered his head. The kiss was delicate - sweet, and tender. It was a cool, refreshing balm for the weight of fatigue settling over the blond in the aftermath of their almost frenzied coupling. Emanating from Trowa, he felt not just love, but also profound gratitude. Smiling in response to that, he moved a hand to run his fingers through the sweat-damp hair dangling from his lover's bent head. Trowa turned his head to kiss Quatre's wrist before returning the smile, and then flipping sideways to flop down onto his back. Quatre shifted, turning to his side to face Trowa.
"That was quite an interesting reaction to a first kiss," he teased mildly, leaning to kiss Trowa on the cheek. His partner chuckled lazily in response, but before long his expression turned pensive. Quatre now sensed a peculiar wash of melancholy from Trowa. It was not an emotion he typically felt after they had engaged in such erotic play - at least not since Trowa had come home. "What is it?" he gently prompted, raising himself up onto one elbow.
"I was just thinking..." Trowa began, eyes fixed straight up at the ceiling, but their focus was somewhere entirely different.
"About..." Quatre encouraged, plumping his pillow beneath him and staving off his drowsiness to attend to his partner.
Trowa spoke quietly and calmly without turning his head or changing the focus of his gaze, "How so many different things could have gone wrong... especially during the war. How close I've come to losing you."
"But you didn't. You haven't, and..." Quatre paused to add emphasis to the last, "you won't."
The brunet turned then to meet his eyes, a small smile gracing his lips and reaching his eyes, "I'm glad. I can't imagine being without you." Trowa hesitated a moment, seeming to collect his next words with care, "And, Cat, I do feel happy now - I'm pretty certain of that. It's nothing I ever dared to hope for until you and Cathy became part of my life. But now... " he broke of at that, communicating the rest of his thoughts by rolling over to scoot close and enfold the blond in a warm embrace. "Everything is perfect," his words were a mild caress through Quatre's hair, and the two spoke no further. They drifted together into a contented slumber, cradled by the peaceful harmony of their well-fed affections.
******
fin
