Notes and Disclaimers: The characters in the following story are the sole property of Sotsu Agency,Sunrise and Fuji TV. All rights reserved to them.
This is a yaoi lemon. If the idea of sex between two adult males offends you, or you are not of legal age in your home country/state/principality, do NOT read any further. If you choose to do so anyway, I am not responsible for your poor decision-making skills.
This story was written as a response to many of the WAFF-y 3×4 stories out there. I’m not really sure why stright women want Quatre and Trowa to sound and act like girls, so I tried to write them like…gasp…young men.
If you enjoy this story then, as always, let me know at firstname.lastname@example.org.
“Worldshaking” Fanfic supports Yuricon, a celebration of shoujoai and yuri in anime and manga, and where we like yaoi plenty, too. :-)
WSF also supports the Fanfic Revolution, because fanfic doesn’t have to suck.
Quatre swallowed nervously, trying to settle the nausea that threatened to overwhelm him. He thought about his options, but decided that he hadn’t given himself too many.
“You’re too sensitive by half, Quatre,” he said to himself. “Everyone says so.” What the hell was he doing here, anyway? Living in a derelict base protected by several tons of stone and men who would die for him, when other people lived down there, starving, dying…he blinked rapidly as the nausea flared up again.
Turning away from whatever vision had filled his mind, Quatre looked at the room, as he had set it up for the evening. Candles burned brightly on the table, which was set with the best they could manage – not very good by the standards of his early life, but then, nothing was the same as it had been.
Quatre watched the candlelight flicker. It wouldn’t really matter, would it, now? Trowa wasn’t stupid – he’d understand immediately. A wave of heat filled Quatre’s pale face with blood. He’d understand all too well.
Trowa was such an enigma, Quatre thought. A boy with no name, no history, barely literate it sometimes seemed. When Quatre had seen him for the first time – seen his Gundam that is, he had felt something powerful emanating from it, from him. And since that day he had never stopped thinking about Trowa – about them…about them together. He woke up more than once, on the far edge of orgasm, feeling Trowa’s body disappearing from his hands, slipping away from underneath him. And every time he looked at Trowa – Quatre knew that the other man knew. Instantly. As if he had a neon sign blinking on his own forehead. I<blink>want<blink>you<blink>
Quatre sighed. How sad. Here they were, as Earth and her colonies tried desperately to forge some kind of new peace, new hope, as the people they knew and, yes, loved, carved a life out of the wreckage of a mad war. There were Noin and Zechs gone into space, the Preventers laboring against absurd odds, Heero and Relena dancing endlessly around each other in a gavotte of ridiculous posturing and unfulfilled longing – and here he was, preparing to seduce a man whose true name he did not know. Sometimes Quatre’s own dreams sickened him with their triviality.
His servant’s large frame filled the door.
“Master Quatre, your guest has…” Rashid’s voice cut off as Trowa entered the room. Rashid bowed and left. How many nights had he run to Quatre’s door, hearing the young man yelling this person’s name? He knew, as did they all, that their master would die for this nameless one, this Ifrit. And should this wanderer stop his wandering and decide to serve Quatre, Rashid knew that he, boon companion of Quatre Rebalba Winner, would then lay down his life for this Trowa Barton. He clenched his fists and left the two men alone.
Trowa stepped into the room and glanced around. He didn’t bother greeting the blond man – he knew it was not expected. Trowa Barton was not known as a man of many words. He looked at the table, the candles brightly burning, the silver and glass and china sparkling in the low light. And he looked at Quatre, searching his face. The boy had grown recently – as had they all. War did that to people. To survive, you get stronger. His shoulders had filled out slightly, but there was still that air of vulnerability, that over-sensitivity to the indecency of life – the very thing that had driven Trowa to surrender to this boy the first time they had met.
Trowa’s eyes narrowed. He would not surrender this time.
Quatre bowed slightly and smiling, welcomed Trowa to his home once again. Trowa lowered his head perfunctorily, giving Quatre the barest of smiles. The blond flushed – clearly upset by Trowa’s aloofness. He closed the distance between them, gesturing to the table.
“Please, Trowa, have a seat. Dinner will be served shortly.”
Trowa shook his head slightly. “I’m not really hungry,” he said. Seeing the disappointment on Quatre’s face, he stepped closer to the blond, violating the other man’s personal space. Inclining his head slightly, looking down into blue-green eyes, he said quietly, “That’s not why you asked me here, is it?”
Quatre started, but Trowa’s hands gripped him firmly and held him in place. Quatre struggled slightly in the taller man’s grip, but was inexorably drawn closer. Trowa kissed him, hard, then let go. Quatre stumbled back a step, and touched his lips with something like repulsion on his face.
“I hate pretense.” Trowa said shortly. “You wanted a seduction tonight, didn’t you? Full of candlelight and soft music.” The brunet turned away. “I don’t want that, Quatre.”
Something hard flashed across Quatre’s face as he faced the other man. “You don’t want that…but you do want me.” He looked up at Trowa, defying him to deny the obvious truth.
Trowa shrugged. “Yes. So what? I want a lot of things.”
Quatre thrust his face close to Trowa’s. “Like what?”
Trowa looked down at Quatre’s lips, and the smallest smile broke out on his own. The two men closed and kissed. The kiss never broke, as their hands ran across each other’s arms, chest, back. When they parted, Quatre was already moving his mouth down Trowa’s neck towards his chest. Harshly, almost angrily, Quatre pulled Trowa’s shirt over the brunet’s head. Quatre ran his hands across the taut belly as his mouth caressed small, hard nipples. His hands dropped, squeezing Trowa’s firm ass, then slowly coming together at the top of Trowa’s pants. The tall man pulled the blond up, pulling his hands away. Kissing him deeply, as if trying to suck something important from him, Trowa pressed his tongue into Quatre’s mouth, filling it. He could feel Quatre suck on his tongue and a moan forced itself from his throat.
They parted, panting heavily. Trowa met Quatre’s eyes, coldly, evenly.
“I’ll fuck you,” he said, “but I won’t love you.”
Quatre met his gaze, then smiled, a little sadly. “Then fuck me – and we’ll see.”
That was all Trowa needed. For months this boy had filled his dreams, sleeping and waking. The thought of his mouth, so soft and beautiful, and his ass, had made Trowa crazy with desire. So obsessed that he had come here, to find this very thing. Sex. Sex with this beautiful, beautiful blond creature.
Trowa stripped Quatre quickly, without endearments, or soft caresses. His mouth fastened onto Quatre’s. The blond pushed him away, then pulled the taller man onto the floor. Taking up where he had left off, Quatre felt Trowa through his pants, felt the hardness take shape beneath his fingers. He opened Trowa’s pants, wanting only to take Trowa in his mouth. Trowa began to gurgle incoherently as the one fantasy he had dared have became reality. Cool lips, warm tongue traced his cock, until Trowa could think of nothing else, feel nothing else but a hand and mouth that wrapped around him. Pressing Quatre onto him, Trowa thrust himself forward. Quatre laughed, a muffled sound and opened his mouth deeper. Trowa’s whole body became rigid, then jerked forward and again. Quatre choked, but stayed where he was, held down strongly by Trowa’s hands. Time seemed to have stopped – then with a horrible wrenching feeling, Quatre pulled himself away, gagging, coughing…and laughing. Trowa bent over double with the force and speed of his orgasm.
“That was awful!” Quatre gasped, while Trowa merely wilted, his heart pounding as if he had run a distance. “Not what I expected at all.” Quatre’s voice was disappointed. Then his head lifted and his eyes widened. “I don’t mean you tasted bad…I just meant…it was harder than I thought and I choked….”
Trowa stared at the blond, whose lips were now dark with blood. “Let me taste you.” Trowa said simply. He pressed Quatre back to the floor and covered the smaller man’s body with his own. Trowa slithered down on Quatre, until he could grasp the young man’s erection. Already bubbling with precum, Trowa found himself drawn to it. One hand felt between Quatre’s legs, gently stroking the blond’s soft balls, while his tongue stroked the cock before him. Quatre groaned, as if in great pain and grabbed for Trowa.
“Too soon…” Quatre said, as he came. Trowa licked Quatre’s head, lapping up what he could find of the boy’s cum then, holding it in his mouth, pulled himself up to kiss the blond, forcing his tongue into Quatre’s mouth again. Eyes wide, moaning, half fighting to get away, Quatre took his own fluids in his mouth. Trowa kissed him until they had both swallowed, then pulled away. Smiling, the brown-haired man looked at the cock still hard in his hand. His own arousal was obvious. He looked down at the naked figure beneath him, asking with his eyes what he’d never say with his voice.
Quatre, groggily got up from the floor onto his knees. Without question he offered himself to Trowa. He knew now that what he wanted, he would never have. Quatre closed his eyes as Trowa pushed a finger, then two, into his ass. He could imagine Trowa’s cold eyes glittering with lust and he thrust back with his body towards the intrusive hand. He would take what he was offered – what he could get.
If he couldn’t have Trowa’s love, he would at least have his desire.
Quatre turned to look over his shoulder. “Fuck me,” he rasped.
Trowa placed his hands on Quatre’s back and slid them down to the blond’s nearly hairless ass. Caressing what he held, Trowa hesitated for a moment.
“Hard.” Quatre demanded. “I want you in me as hard as you can.” And he screamed as Trowa filled him in a single, maddening motion. Pain mixed with pleasure as Trowa fucked him and he screamed for more, until he felt as if he’d be split in half. Trowa’s hard body slammed into his own over and over and Quatre fell to his elbows, tears streaming from his eyes. Trowa pulled himself into Quatre once more, and held himself there. Quatre could feel Trowa within him, as rigid as without, then the first spasm, and the second; with a grunt, Quatre felt Trowa empty himself deep into his bowels. He cried out again as Trowa left him, and he collapsed to the floor, used, angry, disgusted.
Quatre laid there a long time, sensations of discomfort, of need, warring with sensations of anger, until the anger won. He sat up, looking over at Trowa, whose placid – no, blank – face bespoke no recognition. Quatre stood, his own erection as hard as ever and walked over to where Trowa sat.
The slap was unexpected. Trowa’s head spun to the side with the force of the blow. He looked up at Quatre with shock, and maybe a little fear.
“Get up.” Quatre demanded. His tone brooked no resistance. Trowa stared up at him, as paralyzed with surprise as anything else.
“Get up, I said!” And Quatre hauled on the taller man’s arm, half lifting him from the floor. “Goddamn, you, I said get UP!” And he slapped Trowa once again. Pulling on the dark-haired man, Quatre led him to the neatly set table. With a swipe of the arm, the blond sent dishes and candles flying. Throwing Trowa against the table, Quatre turned him over and held him face down.
“How dare you use me like that?” Quatre’s voice was cold, unpleasant. “I loved you, I offered my love to you…” Quatre took his own cock in his hand and held it to Trowa. “And you used me. Are you inhuman?” He thrust forward angrily. Trowa’s head came up as Quatre entered him with a cry. “Don’t you care for anyone? Anything?” Quatre pulled out and pushed in with the rhythm of his words. In a few moments, the words were lost in animal grunts from both men, until Quatre could not hold back. Digging his fingers into Trowa’s lean ass, he came, hard, almost painfully.
Quatre pulled away and threw himself onto a chair. He wished that he smoked. Instead he simply watched as Trowa slipped from where he was to his knees, then to the floor.
For a long time there was silence. Quatre could hear his own breath rasping in the room and Trowa’s answering gasps, which eventually evened out.
Trowa glanced toward the blond, who met his gaze evenly. Smiling just a little, Trowa said, “Hello to you too.”
Quatre’s face was stony for a moment, then split into a grin. “Welcome back. How long are you here for this time?”
Trowa sat back on his haunches and shrugged. “It depends, I guess.”
Quatre stood up and joined Trowa on the floor. “Stay for a little while.” He leaned forward to kiss the other man.
Trowa pushed his hair out of his eyes. “I can do that,” he said and kissed the blond once more.