December 3, 2000
Sequel to 'Have You Ever...'
Quatre and Trowa had returned to their current safehouse--one of Quatre's many establishments--to find the house empty of both Gundams and pilots. Quatre had been immediately worried, but Trowa had reasonably pointed out that another mission had probably arrived while they were away. Quatre would have been satisfied with this answer... if he hadn't had found the note Wufei had left for them.
He had immediately put a call through to the three missing Gundams. Duo was the only one who'd answered his call; both Wufei's and Heero's lines remained silent. Either they weren't near their computers or Gundams, or they were ignoring him. He hoped it was the former and not the later.
The blonde boy sighed, leaning back in his desk chair as he continued to stare at the blank screen. He didn't want to pry into his friends' lives--no, no, that wasn't necessarily true. He wanted to know every juicy detail of what was going on, and really, if that last mission to Hawaii hadn't come up, he would have wheedled the entire story out of Duo by now...
Boy was that a shock!
Quatre had known how Duo felt for the Japanese boy, and he strongly suspected Heero's feelings for the braided boy... but... W*U*F*E*I?
Now *that* was a surprise...
Quatre hadn't even realized the Chinese boy's feelings ran that way... and... he refused to acknowledge that little pang of regret he felt. If he didn't have Trowa...
As if knowing the blonde boy was thinking of him, the tall, graceful young man walked into the study.
"All done packing?" Quatre asked, smiling up at his lover, reaching out his hands to the young man, beckoning him to him. Trowa nodded once, not saying a word as his graceful body covered the distance between the door and the desk. Aquamarine eyes studied that body, caressing the straight lines and curves with intimate knowledge.
"Hmmm," he purred, pulling Trowa into his lap and burying his face in the young man's neck, his tongue darting out to taste his skin before sucking on it.
Trowa purred in response, his head falling to the side, allowing Quatre free access to his throat and shoulder. He could feel the other's hands, moving over his body, stroking him--
On the desk, the vid-phone beeped, breaking the blonde's attention to the body on his lap and in his arms. Growling, he reached forward to answer. Trowa slipped off his lap--much to his disappointment--before the screen blinked to life.
"Wufei!" Quatre cried, pleased to see his friend despite the interruption.
"Winner," the scowling Chinese boy replied, bobbing his head in greeting. "You called?"
"Yes, yes, I did," Quatre said, somewhat distractedly.
Wufei waited a moment, but when the blonde boy didn't continue he prodded, "What about?" He continued to frown, noticing Quatre's flushed appearance over the screen.
"Oh, um, what about?" Quatre fought to keep his mind in order, wiggling in his seat all the while. "Um, well, I was wondering if everything's okay," he said, licking his lips and trying to breathe evenly. "Trowa and I were, ah, expecting you guys to be here when we got back, and, ah--"
"I left a note," Wufei replied calmly, crossing his arms and leaning back in his pilot's seat.
"Yes, yes, you did," the blonde replied, somewhat breathlessly. "But, I was, ah, still worried--"
"There is nothing to be worried about, Quatre," Wufei cut in, his voice more gentle than most would have expected from the Chinese pilot. "It was decided that space was needed. I appreciate your concern--"
"Where are you?" Quatre asked, swallowing a sudden gasp.
"On the Asian Continent," the ebony-haired pilot answered. "I do not know for how long."
"Will you at least maintain contact?" Quatre asked, struggling to maintain his quickly dwindling control. "So we can reach you if or when needed?"
Wufei was silent for a moment... and then he nodded. "Agreed," he told the blonde before dissolving the connection.
Quatre moaned, falling back into the chair, using it to lift his hips and thrust them into Trowa's devilish mouth. From his position on the floor, between Quatre's knees--where he'd been since the beginning of the phone call--Trowa swallowed Quatre's length whole, bobbing his head up and down repeatedly, moving his tongue, his teeth, his lips over the blonde boy's penis.
"That--" gasp "was mean!" pant-pant.
Trowa smiled, pulling away from the engorged flesh with a <<pop>>, nuzzling it with his cheek as his lips trailed lower, his tongue darting out to lick Quatre's testicles. "Really?" he purred, feeling Quatre's hands loose themselves in his hair and thrilling to what he knew was about to happen next.
"Really," Quatre growled, pulling the boy up off his knees and throwing him down across the desk.
"How mean?" Trowa gasped, catching the edge of the desk with his hands and leaning over. Cool hands drove themselves into the waist of his jeans, reaching in and clasping him, yanking him back against Quatre's body, Quatre's penis, hot, searing through the denim.
"Very..." Quatre purred, tugging on those too-tight-but-oh-so-sexy jeans.
"Good..." the taller boy moaned, feeling the cool air hitting his exposed flesh. Deftly, he reached in to a drawer and pulled out a tube of lube, forcing it into Quatre's hand so the other wouldn't forget.
Quatre groaned, Trowa moaned, a lube-slick finger slipping into his opening, a second joining it, and another until...
Trowa moaned, Quatre groaned, feeling that warm heat engulf him, warm, delicious, completely. He leaned over the boy, his lips seizing the other's throat, his one hand steadying the other at the waist, his other trailing circles over his thigh.
"I will never get enough of you," he growled into Trowa's ear before thrusting. Trowa's pleasured cry was his only answer as the blonde boy drove into him again and again.
Trowa came, his hot, sticky fluid coating Quatre's hand as the blonde continued to stroke him, smearing it over his penis. Quatre was only a minute behind him, leaning into him, pushing his body into the desk. They were quiet, panting, for several minutes, and then Trowa stirred.
"I have to go," he said finally.
Quatre shifted, pulling up off the other boy and allowing him to get up. "But I thought you didn't have to leave till tomorrow morning?"
"I changed my flight," the tall young man replied, not meeting the other's eyes as he pulled his jeans up from around his ankles, refastening them.
"But... why?" Quatre asked, already rebuckling his pants. His hands found Trowa's waist, and he pulled the taller boy closer to him. "Why? I thought we could spend a quiet night at home tonight..."
"Quatre..." Trowa looked like he was about to say more, but then he shook his head, pulling away. "It's better for me to leave tonight."
"Well... if you say so..." the blonde replied, looking decidedly not pleased.
"I do," Trowa replied, a thumb brushing over the pink cheek of his lover. "I just came to say good-bye before I left."
'That's one hell of a good-bye,' Quatre thought, but didn't say. Instead he put on a pout, locking his arms around, behind Trowa's waist. "You're sure?" he asked. "There's nothing I can do to make you change your mind?" He pressed his hips against Trowa's, leaning his torso back to look up at his lover.
"Quatre, please..." the tall pilot sighed.
The blonde boy sighed as well, pulling away and going over to his desk. "Okay, fine," he said, scribbling something down on a piece of paper and handing it to him. "Here. This is where Duo's at. Do me a favor and contact him when you get up there, okay?"
Trowa took the paper and nodded, turning to leave. But a hand on his held him back.
"And do me another favor?" Quatre asked, turning those large sea-blue eyes on him.
Trowa said nothing, waiting for the other to speak.
"Be careful, huh?" the blond whispered, leaning up to brush his lips against Trowa's.
End of Part 4: On the Home Front
Andrea Readwolf
Please send comments to: andrea_readwolf@hotmail.com