21-Jun-2001
Title: Special Blend
Authors: Kimmie (JaenKaeGW@hotmail.com) and Aspen (futon@cloudwoven.com)
Archive: GW Addiction.
Category: yaoi, lemon, humour, PWP
Pairings: 3x6/6x3
Disclaimer: We don't own the characters, we mean no harm, we have no money... Stuff like that. Yeah.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None.
Spoilers: None.
Notes: Written just for the sake of the pairing, this little lemon came about sort of just because. This is what you get when you toss us together with lots of anime and a desire to write anything and everything. Blame the coffee bit on Kimmie. She's used it several times before. Let us also note that Aspen does not like coffee. We are aware that our characters are a bit OOC for the series, but this is all for fun. Enjoy!
Trowa finished adjusting his Stupid Little OZ Hat and headed in the direction of the cafeteria. It was rather late morning, but he'd taken the late shift last night, so the only thing he wanted that morning was coffee. Food could wait, after the Twinkies he'd consumed the night before.
//Memo to me: Never buy from the OZ vending machines again.//
There were a few officers gathered around the table which housed the coffee machines, but otherwise, the large room was empty, and their chatting echoed from the sterile walls.
Alex and Mueller were seated between Zechs and Noin, shooting death glares at Zechs, then turning to gaze lovingly at Noin. Occasionally they got confused and smacked each other. Noin was too busy staring at Zechs to notice - Zechs was busy staring at his coffee.
Trowa walked into the room and decided not to get between the glares and stares, so he headed to the coffee machine in front of Zechs, keeping his eyes diverted. As the young officer walked past, Zechs glanced up from his mug... to gaze at Trowa's mug. Trowa caught the gaze in his peripheral vision, though he couldn't really see Zechs' eyes thanks to his Stupid Little Mask.
"Good morning... how's the coffee?" he asked casually.
"Mmm," Zechs incoherented. "Tasty."
Noin orgasmed and fell off the table she was precariously perched upon.
"Overnight brew, huh?"
"Mmm. Yeah."
"Hm." Trowa gazed at all the coffee selections and discovered that he did not want French Roast Extra Tasty Burnt, which was right in front of him. Zechs was leaned against the table elegantly, legs like saw horses in front of him, with 'Caution - No Entrance' tape. "Could you, uh... get me a cup of that regular coffee... no fancy name?"
"Oh, this one? Without the label?" Zechs gestured with his mug. Trowa eyed the delicately-arched wrist and extended pinky.
"Oh, yes. Certainly."
Trowa handed over his mug, which Zechs took with a smile. With practiced movements, Zechs took the coffee pot and filled Trowa's mug with the perfect amount of the nameless coffee.
Zechs glanced at Trowa meaningfully. "If there's anything else you need, just ask."
Trowa sipped the coffee carefully. "Mmm... needs more cream."
"Would you like me to help you find some, Mr.--Oh, excuse me, who are you?[1]"
"Trowa Barton. I would *love* that, Mr. Merquise." Trowa slipped his arm through Zechs'.
"Oh, how nice. You already know my name. Yippee!"
Noin was still spasming on the floor, unaware of Mueller and Alex dragging her by the feet and chuckling,
"Oh, sweet Lucrezia! Let us make sweet love to you by the sugar bin!"
Pots rattled a moment later.
Zechs patted the pocket on his white uniform pants. "Oh, dear... I think I do have some cream, in my other pants. The leather ones."
"Well, let's go see, shall we?"
Trowa pulled Zechs towards the door.
"So forceful!" Zechs mused.
Trowa started off in the direction of Zechs' quarters, knowing where it was just from the rumors, cutting between soldiers walking in their direction.
Before he knew it, he was walking past his own room, and skidded to a halt, Zechs bumping into him from behind.
He grasped his doorknob and pushed the door open with his hip. "Screw the coffee. I have all the cream I need... do you want some, too?"
Zechs, realizing that he was still holding his mug, nodded eagerly. When he was pulled into the room by his hair, his smile grew even wider.
"Are you attached to this?" Trowa put his finger on the side of Zechs' mug.
"Oh, I'm superglued." Zechs tossed it against the wall, where it shattered into shards of ceramic and splashed coffee all over Trowa's wall.
"Thank goodness that was Nichol's bed that broke over. He's in the salon with Lady Une at the moment getting his hair done."
Zechs blinked at the comment. "He doesn't do his own hair? Hmph. And, I took his suggestions on conditioner! No wonder I have split ends!" He shortly found his hair shoved in his mouth. "Mmph."
Trowa placed his hands on the edges of Zechs' mask. "Would you mind terribly if I took the bedpan off of your head?"
Zechs shrugged and put his hands on Trowa's own piece of headgear."Only if you'll lose the pillbox." Less than a second later, they were devoid of headgear and Zechs' jacket was hanging from the ceiling fan. "My, you have fast hands. Have you ever considered juggling?"
Trowa cringed. "That's how I learned to have fast hands. Started with knives, moved on to automatic weapons. I can't juggle scarves, though. They scare me... unless I tie people up with them. But, I don't keep scarves in my room, so, no tying up today. Wanna get naked?"
"Sounds great."
Officer Barton stepped up to Commander Merquise and kissed him fiercely, deftly unbuttoning the other man's shirt before he could pull away. Zechs was busily trying to figure out just how Trowa's jacket fastened so that he could strip him of it. Trowa had enough of the waiting and pulled out of the kiss, stripping Zechs down to his hair. Then, he stripped himself.
With the light that glinted in through the blinds, both men were illuminated by the sharp rays of sunlight, the highly worked planes and angles of their bodies perfectly highlighted. Their arousals were proud and strong, glistening slightly at their tips. Trowa, after discarding the final piece of clothing behind him, stepped back up to Zechs. "So, big boy, you said you had cream for me?"
Zechs smiled and lifted his arms up to rest on Trowa's shoulders. "I've got as much cream as you could possibly take."
Trowa played with Zechs' hair. "Good. I like a lot of cream. Hmm... y'know, let's stop the euphemisms. I want to fuck you. I want to nail your pretty ass to the bed, lube you up real good, and have my way with you until you can't move anymore.Then, I wanna fuck you again until you're just living for the fuck, even if for just a moment. Sound good to you?"
Zechs nodded. "Sure thing! Got lube?"
Trowa ran to the bathroom and came back with a tube of lubricant. "I've got a few more tubes in the medicine cabinet just in case. Now, get on the bed. On your hands and knees like a good little bottom."
Zechs winked at Trowa seductively. "Yes, sir."
The younger man watched as his superior officer elegantly positioned himself on the bed, wiggling his ass and flexing, long silky white-blond hair falling over his shoulders and brushing across his knuckles. He knew he was definitely going to grab handfuls of that amazing hair. He unscrewed the cap from the tube in his hand, squeezing a fair amount onto his middle finger.
The man on the bed caught sight of Trowa's actions. "Mmm," Zechs expessed as he had before, as if he'd taken a refreshing sip of hot coffee. "Is that for me?"
"Of course." Trowa stepped up behind the man, letting Zechs revel in his presence. Zechs was broad, tall - but Trowa wasn't far behind. Zechs stretched forwards then back again, as if straining back towards Trowa. The green-eyed officer allowed himself a slight smile before reaching out and caressing the valley between Zechs' cheeks with one slippery finger. This caused a loud groan to spill from Zechs' defined mouth, his eyes falling shut in temporary bliss. It crumbled away when Trowa removed his teasing finger.
Zechs needn't have worried. Trowa quickly knelt behind him and smoothly inserted a finger into his newfound lover, who accepted it easily and hungrily. After a few more moments, Trowa was moving three slick fingers in and out of Zechs, in rhythm with the man's moving hips.
"I'm ready if you are," Zechs finally groaned.
"Way ahead of you." Trowa was moving into position quickly, having wiped the rest of the lubrication from his fingers onto his eager cock. He leaned into Zechs, resting the head just against his opening and testing his control over his superior officer. Zechs was still wiggling eagerly, Trowa's hands on his hips the only thing keeping them from thrusting back against him.
"I can't resist one more euphemism," Trowa murmured. "Do you like yours black or with cream and sugar?"
Zechs growled, "Hot, black, and in a ceramic Birdman mug!"[2]
"I'd hoped so!" Abandoning his patient calm, Trowa nudged in and slid home in one smooth, controlled thrust, Zechs falling forward a little from the force, cheek pressing into Trowa's white, clean sheets. It smelled of the young man--almost a boy, really, just as he'd been when he entered OZ--clean and smooth and masculine. It felt wonderful having such a hot, thick length pressed into his depths. He was overpowered, and willing.
"Feels good," he groused to Trowa, encouragingly. It felt even better as Trowa's slim, strong fingers slid against his scalp and lifted his head by his hair, in great handfuls - forecful, but not painful. Trowa held on tight and let his hips do the work, beginning the experimental thrusts. To his surprise, Zechs was taking all of this with a practiced eagerness - funny, he'd never pegged him for the uke type, especially with younger men whom he outranked by quite a lot. But he liked his coffee several ways, himself.
Trowa leaned forward, still rhythmically sinking his arousal over and over into that tight moist heaven, tilting Zechs' head to the side and biting gently at his earlobe. Zechs was incredible - without that Stupid Little Mask, the firm lips were put into place with strong cheekbones, a delicate nose, and icy blue eyes which seemed ready to melt at any moment into something less severe. A low groan told Trowa that Zechs definitely liked this whole ear-biting thing. The man bucked as much as he could beneath Trowa, but was held by the hair, arms holding him in his position.
"Oh... shit," Zechs managed, finally surrendering his all to Trowa, who held him firmly and pounded into him relentlessly.
Trowa's fingers slipped delicately through the silk of Zechs' hair, catching at his shoulders as Trowa rose up on his knees, adjusting his angle to something a bit more enjoyable for both of them. Trowa's aching length was buiried deeply, eagerly caressing every bit of Zechs that the man loved to have caressed. "Fuck... this makes me happier than a special at Spacebucks."
Zechs rotated his hips a bit, almost trying for leverage,but not quite. "Oh, this is better than Spacebucks. This is OZ special blend. Fuck me harder, Trowa! Stir! Stir!"
Gasping quite heartily, Trowa began thrusting his hips at a frantic pace. "There's the sugar, get ready for the cream!"
Writhing wantonly, Zechs jerked his neck back as Trowa pulled his hair roughly, muscles tense and firm against him as the other man found his cream, adding it to the mix, reaching down for Zechs' stir stick for a quick caress, preoducing even more "cream". The bedsheets were stained with the evidence of their passion, cream on one bed in the room, coffee and a broken mug on the other. The entire area was a mess, but neither occupant of the room noticed as Trowa pulled himself free of Zechs' embrace to collapse against the bed as Zechs flopped to the sheets next to him. "Oh, that was nice."
Trowa looked up. "Best coffee you've ever had?"
Zechs curled up a bit to face Trowa. "I'm not sure. I'll have to have another cup."
Letting go of Zechs' hair, Trowa smirked. "I'm sure that can be arranged. Let's be sure to have coffee again sometime."
Zechs nuzzled against the pillow. "Can I stir?"
Owari. ^__~
Notes:
[1]: Excuse me, who are you? Excuse me, who are you? Excuse me, who are you? Don't get it? Go rent "Perfect Blue". Excuse me, who are you? Excuse me, who are you? Excuse me, who are you?
[2]: Hahaha, many apologies. We couldn't resist that.
Jenny&Kimmie
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