Disclaimer: Don't own them and I don't make any money off of this so, please don't hurt me! :(
Warning: Pure Smut! Guys having sex with guys. A 4x3 challenge. (Who says Quatre can't be on top and still be a nice guy?) It's a side story to my arc.
"You can't!"
"I can!"
"Can't!"
"Can!"
Duo snickered and stuffed his face full of popcorn. "Maybe with a bottle of aphrodisiacs or something!" he mumbled.
"Hey!" Quatre hit Duo with a couch pillow hard. Duo yelped and almost choked on his popcorn.
Duo put aside his bowl and sat up. They were both sitting on the couch, a late night movie playing softly on the television. The other pilots had long since gone to bed, unwilling to watch the B horror movie that Duo had chosen. Quatre had surprisingly stayed behind, but his reasons had nothing to do with liking to watch disgusting slime creatures devour helpless citizens on a moon colony. His reasons had been more personal. He wanted advice.
Duo glared. Quatre melted like warm butter and began to apologize. Duo relaxed and smirked. "See what I mean? It just ain't gonna happen, Quatre! Besides, Trowa wouldn't let you. He's definitely not the type!"
"And Heero is I suppose?" Quatre replied with arched, golden brows.
Duo frowned. "That's a special case and you know it... or, I guess I'm the special case and Heero has to go along with me or he ain't getting none, if ya know what I mean?" He fiddled with his braid and looked down, disturbed and flushed.
Quatre's space heart twinged. "Sorry, Duo. I know your past is painful to you, but so is Trowa's. He gets scared just like you do if I ask for too much."
"Then why ask?"
Quatre reddened. The blonde Arabian looked like an innocent ten year old and Duo felt uncomfortable talking about sex with him, even though he knew that Quatre was definitely NOT innocent.
"I want to love him," Quatre said at last, expression wistful. "I don't want to just- just lay there. He makes me feel so good. I want him to know what that's like. I know he's never felt that before."
Duo's face went pinched and haunted. "Yeah, well people can tear a body inside and out so that it can ever be fixed, Quatre. Me and Heero, for example, are still a work in progress. Trowa's never told me about- about being a sex toy for those mercenaries, but I know that look on his face. I see it every time I look at myself in a mirror. I don't want to be crude, but, laying on your back and not moving a muscle is probably the only way Trowa can manage to get it up with you at all. If you were to, uhm, flip him on his back and try to do the nasty, he might just get violently nasty right back."
"I know that!" Quatre replied in exasperation. "That's why I've come to you, Duo."
Duo blinked. "I'm not exactly the romance expert," he replied. "My customers never paid for that and Heero barely understands foreplay. Wine and roses are pointless to him. The flowers die and a pilot should never get drunk: hampers performance."
"But you understand Trowa," Quatre persisted. "I'm sorry to cause you pain, Duo, but I'm really desperate. If you could tell me what would relax you, what would make you want-"
"Nothing!" Duo snarled and backed away to the other end of the couch, drawing his knees against his chest. He huddled there for a full minute, glaring, but then he unfolded like a spring and stood up. Quatre flinched, thinking Duo had snapped and was about to attack him. Instead, Duo grinned. "I know what you can do!"
"It's definitely a rash, Trowa," Quatre said as he surveyed his lover's backside.
The man tried to crane his head so that he could see it too. He had just come from the shower, his long, lean body wrapped in a towel. He had let it slip to bend and get his clothes from the dresser and Quatre had taken that opportunity to make his comment.
"I don't feel anything," Trowa replied, a little embarrassed.
"Better take care of it now or you will later," Quatre told him in a serious tone. "It's in a difficult place to reach. I have some ointment. If you'll let me, I'll put some on the spot."
The anxious eyes Trowa turned on Quatre hurt, but Quatre kept himself quiet, making himself look as small and as vulnerable as possible. I'm not a threat, he tried to say with his body, I'm your little Arabian who wouldn't hurt a fly.
Trowa nodded, but his lips were tight pressed together. "Okay, Love, go ahead."
Quatre smiled shyly and held up the tube of ointment. Trowa was a little surprised and Quatre kicked himself for not putting it in the medicine cabinet first. He scrambled for an explanation. "I noticed it earlier."
Trowa accepted this. He didn't have any reason not to.
"I think it would be easier if you sat on the bed," Quatre suggested.
"How would that be easier?" Trowa wondered with wide eyes.
"Uh, you'll see."
Trowa did as Quatre suggested, but he sat gingerly, ready to get up again if he felt threatened. He hitched the towel around himself defensively. Not good, Quatre thought. He had to get rid of the towel.
"Oh, that'll get all greasy with the medicine," Quatre said breezily and made a shooing motion. "You won't need it."
Trowa didn't want to give it up. His hands tightened on the fabric. Quatre readjusted his plan of attack. "Okay, Trowa. That's fine. You can keep it on."
Quatre kneeled between Trowa's long legs. The man watched him intently from under his long bang, face unreadable. Quatre tried to keep talking, even though he was beginning to see another flaw in his plan. He had never seduced anyone. When he and Trowa had decided to become lovers, Trowa had simply pulled Quatre to his lips and told him to lie still. Trowa was always gentle and beautiful in his lovemaking. Quatre had never regretted a moment of being the submissive partner, but now he was almost at a loss as to how to begin what Trowa had always done so well.
"So, what were you going to do tonight?" Quatre wondered in a strained bantering tone. "I was thinking of curling up next to the fireplace and reading that English novel... you know the one, Lord Byron's Doggerel?" he kept on in that vein as he smoothed some of the 'medicine' over his fingers. His fingers were shaking.
Trowa didn't reply for the longest time and then he said simply, "I don't know."
Quatre raised eyebrows and gave Trowa his gentlest smile, full of warm fuzzies wrapped in his heart. "Don't know? Maybe I can forget the book and we can-"
"Work on Heavyarms, maybe," Trowa finished.
"Oh, all right," Quatre replied, flustered. "Heero did give us all a stack of new maintenance schedules... maybe I could go to the hanger with you and help out."
"I suppose."
From his low position, Quatre had a fine view of Trowa's cock underneath the towel. It wasn't soft, but it wasn't hard either. Long and slender, it moved uncertainly, Trowa's nervousness maybe keeping it from making up its mind. Trowa had smooth, long legs; all muscle with only a faint scattering of dark hair along the fronts of them. Beautiful, Quatre thought. He longed to nuzzle and stroke them, but his business was elsewhere and Trowa was becoming impatient, shifting a little as if he was deciding to get up again. Quatre brought his attention back to his main objective.
Blathering about Gundam specifications and, of all things, Heero's anal retentiveness about them, Quatre slowly began smoothing the 'medicine' over the skin on the underside of Trowa's thigh. That skin shivered.
Very slowly, Quatre began moving his fingers further and further back, towards the spot he had been longing to touch for a long while but had avoided because of Trowa's fears. When he reached it he said, breathlessly, "I have to rub it in good and deep here. That's where the worst of it is. Will that be all right, Trowa love?"
Trowa shivered again. Quatre didn't dare look up into his green eyes, afraid of rejection, afraid of seeing stark fear. Quatre was terrified of either reaction. He wanted to give his lover the same pleasure that Trowa had given him. Quatre felt that he would die if he accidentally gave Trowa the opposite.
"It's all right," Trowa replied finally. "I didn't think you wanted to do anything like that. You should have asked instead of playing this silly game."
Quatre looked up then, shocked, and saw Trowa's nervous but trusting expression. The man was trusting him completely, Quatre realized, trusting him not to hurt or do the cruel things that some men had done to him in the past.
"I love you, Heart of my Heart!" Quatre exclaimed, tears in his large, blue eyes. "Let me show you how much!"
Trowa gave a definite nod and leaned back on his elbows as he took off the towel. His erection was up and flying now. He began to close his green eyes, but Quatre stopped him.
"Look at me, love," Quatre told him. "Don't forget it's me."
Trowa opened his eyes again and did as Quatre suggested, his expression softening as Quatre's fingers began swirling around his anus. Patience, Quatre told himself, feeling his own cock go hard. He had lost one kind of virginity to Trowa, now he was eager to lose another. He wanted to savor it, enjoy every moment, remember it sweetly for the rest of his life. He wanted that for Trowa too. No fear. No pain. Only love and pleasure.
Quatre met Trowa's eyes with his own and carefully slid in a finger. Trowa winced, but he slid his long legs apart and raised his knees to give Quatre better access.
"Oh, Allah!" Quatre choked. "You are so beautiful, my Trowa!"
Trowa was lean and long, taller than Quatre. The hair along his ass and along his legs told Quatre that he was moving towards manhood faster than he was. The thought excited Quatre as he imagined them men together, loving and making love. Quatre groaned and buried his face into Trowa's cock and balls, licking, tasting, suckling with abandon as he slipped another finger into Trowa's anus. Trowa groaned along with Quatre and his legs went wider, inviting Quatre's gentle torment to continue as the little Arabian tried to devour and taste every bit of Trowa's genitals.
Enough! Quatre thought. This was his moment. He couldn't wait any longer. Standing up, he squeezed more lube onto his smaller cock and coated it very well. He was a hard as a rock, needing release, aching for it. He leaned between Trowa's legs. The hairs there tickled his skin and he smiled lovingly into Trowa's face as he hooked the pilot's knees with his arms.
"All right, Trowa?" Quatre asked breathlessly, wondering if he could even stop now if the man told him no. This was different, being the one on top, being the one in control. He still felt small as a child beside Trowa's long body, his gentle nature uncertain with this new dominant position, but his stiff cock didn't leave Quatre any doubt that he could take full advantage of it.
"Do it, Love," Trowa whispered.
"Love you," Quatre responded and pushed into Trowa. The man grunted and writhed. Quatre froze, thinking he had done something wrong, but then he realized that Trowa was bringing his body up, impaling himself on Quatre as Quatre was coming down to impale him.
The sensation of being inside of Trowa was incredible, indescribable, a revelation of feeling and togetherness Quatre had never imagined possible. He tried to be careful, go slow, treat Trowa as gently as the man had treated him... but he couldn't. Quatre's body wanted friction, wanted release. Trowa didn't stop him, didn't try. Trowa was shouting, groaning, and opening his legs as wide as they would go so that Quatre could bury himself fully and hit his prostate. Quatre was almost too small but Trowa bent his body with an acrobat's suppleness and Quatre hit it at last. Trowa went wild then, pulling Quatre down and kissing him with uninhibited passion, clutching and grasping at his small lover as if he wanted to pull Quatre completely inside of him.
Quatre felt Trowa explode into a wet, hot, splatter across both their bellies. His anus constricted with his orgasm and Quatre screamed as he came too, pounding his cum hard and fast into Trowa. Lights exploded behind Quatre's eyes. He felt like he was dying. He wasn't aware of his surroundings again until Trowa curled around him and held him close, kissing his mouth with hot lips.
"You only had to ask," Trowa said softly into Quatre's ear. "I trust you, Love of my life. I always will. What we are together has nothing to do with the dark animals that rutted on me in the past. This is the light. This is love. This is pure joy. We make magic when I love you. With you...," Trowa chuckled softly. "We make fire. I like that... love that. Ask me again, Quatre, please?"
"It makes you a poet," Quatre laughed and kissed Trowa passionately. "Come, Trowa, love, let's make poetry together."
*** Owari***