For T-bat with love.

AU, OOC, fantasy, yaoi, sap, LEMON, blah blah blah.

Quatre was laughing silently at the both of them as they crept through the deserted back hallways of the castle, moving with exaggerated caution from corridor to corridor like thieves. Trowa must have caught his mood, because his eyes were sparkling with the same sense of amusement, and he was smiling faintly as he led Quatre through the twisting halls.

They had one close call, as a maid paced deliberately down the hall, turning down the lamps. Hearing her approach, Trowa pulled Quatre into one of the small, crowded storerooms, where they froze, hardly daring to breathe as she moved along. As the corridor darkened in her wake, Quatre took advantage of the moment to nuzzle his face against Trowa's neck, enjoying the moment of closeness and the way Trowa's breath was hitching in his throat. "You're enjoying this far too much, Your Highness," he whispered.

"Damn right I am... and when did we go back to using titles, Lord Barton?" Quatre inquired, tracing the fine bones off Trowa's hand with one finger.

"I don't know. I think she's gone."

"Mm. Lead on, my lord." Quatre chuckled softly, maintaining his grip on Trowa's hand as they ventured out of the storeroom. As they reached the guest wing and Trowa peered around a corner, he asked, "Is it safe?" Trowa nodded." Then this is where our paths ought to separate," he said, offering Trowa the option.

"Only.... only if you want that." His voice was shaking again.

Quatre kissed him, slowly, pressing Trowa's back to the wall. Then he stared at Trowa. "Are you sure?"

"...yes..."

He lifted Trowa's hand, kissing the palm and each fingertip before pulling him down the hall and into his room. They both started a little guiltily as the door clicked shut behind them. "Now that I've got you, Lord Barton... what should I do with you?" Quatre traced the curve of Trowa's jaw slowly.

"I suppose... whatever Your Highness wishes." Trowa gasped a little as Quatre pulled him close, holding him tightly.

"I want to make you happy, Trowa," he whispered fiercely. "Maybe we're nothing but puppets manipulated by the stars, but I don't care anymore whether we chose this or not. I just want to make you happy."

"Quatre..." *How do you do this to me?* Trowa dropped his head to the other's shoulder. "I never... thought you'd be like this... so good."

"No... no, I'm not. I'm stubborn, and impulsive, and selfish... and Duo promises me that I snore. I'm not perfect, Trowa, don't let me fool you like that." Quatre kissed the side of Trowa's neck softly. "But everything that I am, faults and all... is yours."

"Quatre... if you don't' stop talking like that..." Barely more than a whisper, and muffled by Quatre's shoulder, Trowa's voice was barely audible.

"Then what?"

"If you don't stop it... I *am* going to fall in love with you."

Quatre smiled, even though he knew Trowa couldn't see him. "Then we'll just be even."

"You know I'm - that I - he -"

He rubbed long, soothing strokes up and down Trowa's back. "I know. It doesn't matter, not to me, except to make me angry that it happened to you. Okay? That's the only thing that's important."

"Quatre... don't ever let me go."

"Never, Trowa, I promise." Quatre kissed the corner of Trowa's jaw, coaxing the other man to look up with a trail of kisses that led to Trowa's lips. For the first time, Trowa's lips met his without hesitation, parting eagerly before the invasion of Quatre's tongue. They spent long moments standing there, taking time to memorize each other's taste and feel.

Quatre moved away from Trowa's mouth, covering all of Trowa's face with tiny kisses, pausing to nibble on an earlobe and laughing at the sound of Trowa's soft hiss of surprise, then returning to take Trowa's mouth hungrily. His hands seemed to be moving on their own accord, rising to the buttons of Trowa's shirt and working them open.

Trowa shuddered as one slender hand dipped into the open shirt, tracing idle patterns over his chest, brushing over the stiffened nubs of his nipples. "More," he choked when they paused to catch a breath.

Quatre smiled at him, dipping his head and dragging his lips down Trowa's chest, taking a moment to taste the skin at the hollow of his throat before following the planes of Trowa's chest to one peaked nipple.

A choked cry escaped Trowa's throat as Quatre's hot, wet mouth and curious tongue sent fire racing across his body. He pressed his fingers into Quatre's blond hair, silently willing him to continue the sweet torture.

Quatre pulled away, and Trowa almost protested before Quatre took his hands, leading him further into the bedchamber and gently pushing him back on the bed. Quatre pulled off their boots before slowly sliding his way up the length of Trowa's body and resuming his ministrations to Trowa's chest, alternately kissing and licking his way across its breadth.

Trowa tugged at the lacings of Quatre's shirt, fingers made clumsy as Quatre's mouth impaired his concentration. Impatiently, Quatre stopped long enough to tug the garment over his head and toss it aside before pressing himself against Trowa's chest, lavishing his fiancé's face with wet kisses.

They groaned into each other's mouths as Quatre shifted their erections together, the friction too good. Quatre went fumbling for Trowa's pants, undoing them and pushing both pants and undergarments down.

Trowa exclaimed sharply, back arching off the bed as Quatre's fingers glided over his erection, his touch too light to bring any kind of satisfaction. Quatre stroked him slowly, working one finer over the head and earning another wordless cry from Trowa. His lover *did* protest as Quatre lifted his hand away, until Quatre smirked and lowered his mouth over Trowa's erection. Quatre smiled as best as he could, listening to the inarticulate sounds the experimental movements were wringing out of Trowa's throat, and began memorizing *this* part of Trowa, too.

Trowa had his eyes clenched shut, hips lifting reflexively as he lost himself to the world of pleasure Quatre was giving him. It was more than he'd ever expected, too wonderful, spiraling higher and higher, until he was certain he would shatter like spun glass -

Trowa climaxed with a keening wail of surprise as he filled Quatre's mouth. Unprepared for this, Quatre nearly gagged in his first surprise before swallowing. He stretched out beside Trowa, propping himself up on one arm and simply watching the other man fight to regain control of his breathing.

Shocked green eyes turned to meet his. "What about you?" Trowa panted, skin gleaming in the low light from the fireplace.

Quatre leaned down and kissed him, letting Trowa taste himself. "There'll be time for me later, love."

"No..." Trowa worked his fingers quickly into Quatre's pants, the skin-on-skin contact more than enough to bring Quatre's neglected erection back to life. Quatre half-sobbed at the feeling of Trowa's fingers closing around him. "Take me," Trowa whispered into his ear.

Quatre's pleasure and need-fogged mind flashed back to every bit of advice Duo had ever given him. "I don't have anything to make it easier for you," he moaned.

"It's all right," Trowa replied, punctuating his words with movements of his fingers.

"I don't - nnnn - want to - aaaah - hurt you," Quatre gasped.

"You won't hurt me, I trust you." Trowa caught one of Quatre's hands, slipping the fingers into his mouth and suckling them.

"God... Trowa..." Quatre worked his pants the rest of the way off, sliding one leg between Trowa's. "You're too damn hard to resist." He pulled his saliva-glistening fingers from Trowa's mouth, kissing him leisurely. "For God's sake, stop me if I'm hurting you - promise?"

"I promise..." Trowa moaned as Quatre's tongue began long, lazy swipes, cleaning him and exciting him once more. Still, even distracted as he was, he felt the first tentative probing between his legs.

"Trowa - only if you're sure -"

"Do it, Quatre..." Trowa forced himself to relax, letting the first intruding digit past the tight ring of muscle.

Quatre stretched him slowly, afraid to move too quickly, and following half-remembered instructions as he probed inside Trowa for -

Trowa yelped suddenly, his hips jerking as Quatre pressed the spongy lump inside him. Quatre smiled and took advantage of the moment to add a second finger. "Like that, Trowa?"

"More," he said hoarsely.

Quatre shifted his fingers inside Trowa, brushing that spot again as he stretched the muscles.

Trowa fisted a hand in the sheets, hissing a little at the combination of pleasure and pain as Quatre added the third finger for good measure. Quatre looked at him. "We can still stop -"

"No... go on."

Quatre spit into his palm, hoping the saliva and the fluids from his own aching erection would be enough, and slowly positioned himself between Trowa's legs. "Ready?" Trowa nodded once, trying to stay relaxed.

Quatre pushed into Trowa, the pace agonizingly slow as he intently watched Trowa's face for signs of discomfort. It was so difficult to remain aware of the responsibility, though, when it felt so good to be inside Trowa... Quatre moaned as he seated himself fully inside Trowa's body.

Trowa panted, short soundless gasps for air and against the pain. Quatre snaked his hand between their bodies, pumping his erection, the wash of pleasure a counterpoint against the pain.

Quatre waited until Trowa had relaxed, the discomfort easing somewhat from his face, before withdrawing a little and thrusting shallowly, at a different angle. They both moaned. Quatre moved again, at another angle, and Trowa yelled as he hit the spot again.

Quatre smiled, seeing that the pleasure had drowned out the pain, and settled into a slow rhythm. He moaned with each thrust, listening to the soft cries with satisfaction. Although he'd been denied longer than Trowa had, he was determined to see Trowa to completion first. Accordingly, he pumped Trowa's erection harder, angling his thrusts to hit Trowa's spot each time. As the pace became more frantic, Trowa threw his head back, crying out as he came. Quatre shouted as Trowa's muscles tightened around him, pushing him over the edge after Trowa.

Gasping, Quatre collapsed by Trowa, dazed. Sleepily, he fumbled with the blankets, coaxing Trowa to move enough to slide beneath them. Quatre curled up next to him, lacing his fingers with Trowa's. "Love you," he whispered, eyes drifting shut.

Trowa's eyes flicked open, and he looked at Quatre's relaxed, sleeping face and smiled. "Love you too." Then, sighing, he closed his eyes again and let sleep claim him, noting with the last vestiges of consciousness that Quatre did indeed snore.

There. The long-promised lemon...

C&C?

Lys ap Adin