May 1998
Quatre's face lit up when Trowa walked into the room, face composed as usual. "Trowa!" he exclaimed happily, throwing himself into the taller boy's arms. "Back from the mission already...yokatta!"
As usual Trowa's eyes seemed to soften slightly. "Konbonwa, Quatre."
"The best of evenings, now that you're here," he responded. He tugged at Trowa's hand. "C'mon, I have everything planned. I made the arrangements as soon as you called."
Quatre beamed over at him. "I'm taking you on a date."
"D-date-o?" Trowa echoed, blinking.
"Yes, and I'm not taking no for an answer," Quatre said firmly. "It's been almost a month since I've seen you! For once, we're going to spend some time together." He gave Trowa his most winning smile.
Reluctantly, Trowa's lips began to turn up at the corners.
"All right," he gave in.
Quatre grinned as he opened the car door for Trowa. "Was that so hard?"
He tried to be flippant about it, but it really was important to him...because of what they were, they didn't get to spend a whole lot of time together. And it had been almost a year since he'd admitted his feelings to Trowa - which Trowa, amazingly, returned - and their relationship while very satisfying to him, just hadn't advanced as far as he might like.
It was maddening. Trowa would just sit there and twiddle his thumbs instead of making *any* sort of first move.
"Where are we going?" Trowa asked calmly, but Quatre could sense the barest trace of curiosity in his voice.
"You'll see," Quatre replied smugly. Inside, he was a little nervous. He wasn't sure if Trowa would like the arrangements he'd made.
(A year previous...)
Trowa jerked as Quatre laid careful hands on the dressing, but his face was carefully expressionless.
"You can yell if it hurts, you know," Quatre told him, wide-eyed. "It's not shameful."
"Why bother?" Trowa shrugged, then hissed a little as the movement sent pain through his wounded shoulder.
"Baka," Quatre scolded him, peeling off the bandage, face intent. He frowned. "We should get you some treatment soon...this is more than I can handle."
"Just patch it up," Trowa said coldly. "I'll be fine. We have to finish what we started."
Quatre shook his head. "It's blown now. They know what we were headed for, and the complex will be too heavily guarded. We'll have to fall back and think of a better plan."
Trowa was silent.
Quatre looked at him with worried eyes. So self-contained - he could never tell if it was hurt he was hiding behind those empty eyes, or if there truly was...nothing. And it was hard to tell when he'd begun to care so much about finding out.
"You should be more careful," Quatre said, trying to keep his voice light. "If you hurt yourself too badly, you won't be able to keep up much longer."
"It doesn't matter."
Frustration welled up in Quatre's throat, along with the desire to do something, *anything* to make Trowa react. To force him to see that people could care for him, and if he got hurt...maybe h-they'd be hurt too. "Why!?" he cried angrily. "Why doesn't it matter, Trowa? Doesn't anything matter?"
One green eye bored into him for a moment, then flicked away.
"It shouldn't have to be like this," he whispered, staring down at Trowa's hands. His own were still a bit flaky with Trowa's drying blood. "I...I wish..."
Trowa shifted a little bit, and he looked up. The lanky pilot was looking away from him, but there was expression, real expression on his face - a fleeting spasm of longing? - and then it was gone so quickly he wondered If he'd actually seen it."I wish you'd understand," he finished quietly, a sinking feeling centering in the pit of his stomach. He knew that he shouldn't say it. But there was still a part of him desperate to see if anything could crack through that impassive shell.
"What?" Trowa's voice was so distant. As if he wasn't really there.
"You shouldn't-you don't have to feel useless, Trowa. There are people who care about you. Catherine cares about you. I-I-" He faltered, then continued doggedly, "I care about you, Trowa. I...I..."
Trowa was still looking at him. He gulped, suddenly feeling very small and unsure of himself. Then he remembered the flat, dead tone of Trowa's voice and plowed on.
"I love you."
Trowa's eyes widened.
Quatre twisted his hands in his lap. "Gomen," he apologized, embarrassment wriggling along his skin as he willfully interpreted the look in Trowa's eyes as disgust, or rejection, or scorn, or...pity... "I'm sorry, Trowa. I'll leave, if you want me to. The way things go you probably won't have to see me again..."
He started to get up, and Trowa's hand caught at his wrist.
"Don't do that," Trowa said quietly, and Quatre sat back down with a thump, stunned. His face was as calm as ever, but Quatre thought he detected a flicker of - life? - in the green depths of his eyes.
"I love you," Quatre repeated shyly, daring to hope.
A corner of Trowa's lips tilted very slightly upwards. Quatre smiled brilliantly in return.
"I didn't think it would ever be for me to say," Trowa murmured. "Despite Heero's advice to be true to my feelings, I didn't think-" He stopped.
Quatre scooted closer to him, and Trowa looked a bit startled. After a moment of silence he relaxed. "Quatre, I feel...the same."
With that, Quatre was more than content.
"How was dinner?" Quatre asked anxiously, as they returned arm-in-arm to the car. Quatre had taken Trowa's arm, of course; his reserved love wouldn't think to offer it.
"It was good," Trowa replied, giving Quatre a little smile.
Quatre felt warm clear through his toes. Of course, that could've been the wine he'd had with dinner. But it was also the expression that Trowa gave to only him. He'd been mostly quiet at dinner, talking little and seeming content with Quatre filling up the silent spaces. Answering the occasional whimsical question.
Both of them had completely avoided the topic of war.
It was an unspoken rule in their relationship, that allowed them to pretend, to keep things from gaining a desperate edge. It was bad enough that sometimes weeks or more had to pass before they could see each other again; it was positively intolerable to talk about a subject that only brought on more grief, and the awful possibilities that could occur...
Trowa smiled faintly as Quatre opened the door for him again. "It was a nice date..." he murmured, as Quatre got in on the other side.
Quatre smiled over at him. "It's not over yet," he said happily.
Trowa arched his eyebrows.
He drove to the charming little oceanside hotel where he'd made reservations, heart thumping in his chest. Normally when they weren't on missions, Trowa stayed in a spare bedroom of the house. Tonight, Quatre was hoping that if they were alone together, without having to worry about intrusive servants and other possible interruptions, their relationship could progress even further. After all, it had been a year. He loved Trowa...Trowa loved him...so...
He swallowed hard, and tried not to remember with embarrassment how long it had taken for them to just kiss, for the first time.
Quatre leapt down lightly from Sandrock, toolkit in his hand. "Trowa! You're back!" he exclaimed joyfully, waving.
The lanky pilot of Heavyarms merely lifted a hand in reply, but his green eyes lit up.
Quatre dropped the toolkit and hugged him. "I'm so glad," he murmured, rubbing his cheek against Trowa's turtleneck. "It's been weeks...I was starting to worry..."
"I'm just fine," Trowa replied, arms tightening around him slightly. There was a hint of wonder in his voice. Even after all these months, he still seemed surprised to discover with each encounter that Quatre still felt the same.
Quatre tilted his head up to look at him, happiness filling him again with Trowa's presence. He stretched up on his tiptoes, hoping as ever that Trowa would take the hint and kiss him. It had been four months since they'd admitted their feelings...and Trowa *still* hadn't kissed him. Quatre was starting to wonder if he'd overestimated the extent of their relationship. Maybe Trowa considered him as just a friend, after all.
He flushed unhappily at the thought.
"Quatre? Is something wrong?" Trowa asked, brushing a hand over his cheek.
Quatre turned his head into the caress, then looked up at Trowa, suddenly daring. *No, I can't be wrong. Not with the way he looks at me, and when he actually does touch me...* Well, if Trowa wouldn't do it, then he would, Quatre reasoned. He stretched up even further, pressing a hand to the back of Trowa's head to guide him down towards his lips, and...
Their noses collided with a thud.
"Ow!" Quatre exclaimed, embarrassed. He rubbed at his nose awkwardly, avoiding Trowa's eyes.
Trowa was silent.When he risked a glance back at the long-banged pilot, Trowa's eyes were unexpectedly soft and startled. Taking hope from that expression, Quatre seized his face in both hands, and tried again. This time their lips met firmly, and Quatre closed his eyes, kissing Trowa with his whole heart.
Trowa's lips were stiff and clumsy underneath his at first, then suddenly they were yielding, and so sweet. Quatre wound his arms around the taller boy's neck, and kissed him deeply. He was surprised at how shy and hesitant the other pilot was -- he had thought that the tall pilot of Heavyarms would be the one to take the lead in their relationship, But after months of scraping his toes, Quatre had gotten tired of this waiting and realized *he* would have to take initiative.
Finally he pulled away, eyes sparkling. Their first kiss, at last. A rocky start, but it had been so nice. Only one thing could possibly make it better...
"I love you," Quatre told him impulsively, brushing a thumb over Trowa's still-parted lips.
Unexpectedly Trowa gave him a smile, that real smile meant only for him. "I...me, too," he replied quietly, and pulled Quatre into his arms.
"Quatre...what are we doing in a hotel?" Trowa asked him suspiciously. "You couldn't have made reservations for dinner, because we just had that."
"That's right," Quatre beamed back at him. "You'll have to wait and see."
He checked them in quickly, hiding the passkey from Trowa that had the room name scrawled clearly on it. Hand in hand, they walked down the hall to the room, and with a growing sense of anticipation and nervousness pooling in his stomach, he opened the door.
Trowa blinked.
Quatre looked at him expectantly.
Trowa blinked again.
Quatre began to get a little anxious. "Ne...Trowa? Do you like it?"
"W-wow..." the tall, brown-banged pilot managed.
Quatre beamed.
The sumptuous honeymoon suite room inside was dimmed almost completely, to provide the perfect backdrop for the dozens of candles scattered around the room. A fire was going in the fireplace, and as Quatre had specified, red rose petals had been scattered all over the white bedspread, the large cushiony white sofa, and the coffee table in front of it was garnished with champagne.
"All this for me?" Trowa said quizzically, that note of self-deprecating wonder entering his voice again.
"Uh-huh," Quatre nodded, tugging him inside and shutting the door. "I want tonight to be special."
"...oh..."
Quatre didn't notice the slightly flat, mechanical note in Trowa's voice, and dragged him over to the couch, not quite having the courage to drag him over to the bed. Not yet, anyway. Maybe after a glass or two of champagne...on top of the wine he'd had at dinner...
He poured them some champagne, then curled up next to Trowa, whose face looked strangely distant, as if he weren't quite all there with him. A little nervously, he put a hand on Trowa's leg, the other hand balanced against the tall boy's chest. He blinked up at him. Trowa didn't appear to register his presence.
"Trowa?"
Quatre's voice called him back from the other place.
"Ne, Trowa?"
He closed his eyes, feeling like he was submerged in murky water.
*"Ne...No name..."*
Hands touched him and he flinched back, throat closing tight, unable to make a sound.
"Trowa! Trowa, what's wrong?"
He forced his eyes open to confront Quatre's sweet open face and something in his chest lurched. "Nothing. Nothing's wrong," he lied.
Quatre looked anxious. "Is it...is it me? Am I doing something wrong?" He started to pull away.
"No!" Trowa blurted in surprise, without even thinking. *I can't tell him. He...he wouldn't want me. Someone like Quatre...shouldn't have someone with my hangups.* "I...I have to go."
"Trowa, what's wrong?" Quatre repeated anxiously, rubbing his hand over the smooth plane of Trowa's pectoral, soothingly he thought.
". . ."
"Tell me," Quatre insisted, taking the hand away and slipping his arm around Trowa's waist, other hand still lightly stroking Trowa's thigh.
Trowa met his eyes, hesitating. Quatre looked resolute. Like he wouldn't let Trowa go anywhere, unless Trowa told him. His heart lurched again. Why did Quatre care about him so much? "The mercenaries...I never told you, but they..." He stopped, mouth clamped in a grim line.
"They what?" Quatre demanded worriedly, brow drawn up in an anxious line. "They...they raped you?" His voice was hushed, horrified.
Trowa looked away. "Not...exactly."
Remorsefully Quatre began to disengage his arms, removing the hand that had been moving back and forth over Trowa's thigh.
"No, don't-" Trowa covered Quatre's hand on his leg with his own. "Don't...take your hands away as if you can't bear to touch me."
"Trowa," he murmured, overwhelmed. He hitched closer to him on the sofa, cradling the other pilot in a loose grasp. "What did they do to you?" Suddenly he felt fiercely protective, and almost laughed at the absurdity. Him, protecting strong capable Trowa.
"Touched me," Trowa muttered thickly, his voice flat, eyes distant. "Pressed...up against me. Every day, it was the same thing. Touching me, putting their hands...and other things...on me, rubbing...They shoved their filthy tongues into my mouth-but they never got to rape. Not once I got my hands on a gun, and didn't let go for nearly three years."
"Trowa," he uttered, appalled, stroking a hand soothingly over the other's back. "Is that why you don't-why you never want to...with me?"
Trowa's green eyes filled suddenly, with that special look that was meant only for him. "It's not that I don't want to," he replied softly. "I do. With you. It's just...I have a hard time starting. But I do want to be with *you,* Quatre."
The golden-haired pilot stretched up to kiss his mouth. "I'm sorry for pushing too fast," he murmured, placing light kisses along his jaw.
Trowa shrugged. "I should have gotten over it before."
Quatre hugged him, and they sat for a long time in silence like that, watching the mesmerizing crackle of the flames in the fireplace. Quatre rested his ear against Trowa's silken heartbeat. "Well, we have the room all night...can we at least sleep together? Just sleep? I want your arms around me. Ne, Trowa?"
"No," Trowa replied, rubbing his hand over the back of Quatre's neck.
"Oh," Quatre replied in a forlorn little voice. "...okay."
"I want you to do more than put your arms around me," Trowa's breath whispered over his cheek.
"Oh!" Quatre exclaimed, eyes flying open. "You mean you'll let me..."
Trowa chuckled, and his hands slid over Quatre's shoulders, feather-light, then pulled him closer. "Well...it *has* been nearly a year, hasn't it, little one?" He kissed his forehead. "Yes. I...I want you to. To erase all those bad memories with your good ones."
Quatre smiled almost shyly. Then he strained up towards his lips again, moving over Trowa's mouth and face like a blind man, re-learning the contours of his face. He licked tentatively over Trowa's lower lip and they parted for him. He slipped his tongue inside as his trembling fingers skipped from the taller pilot's knee, to his thigh.
"Are you sure?" Quatre breathed against his lips, once they broke the kiss.
Trowa nodded and bent to kiss him again, then pulled back after a mere brush.
"T-trowa?" he faltered.
Trowa put his hands to the bottom of his turtleneck, then pulled it over his head. Then he looked suddenly uncertain, as he cast it aside.
Quatre beamed up at him, sliding his hands caressingly up the smooth skin of his sides, and as the tension seeped from Trowa's face, bent to kiss a nipple, pulling a startled 'oh!' from him. He ran his tongue around it, tasting him as the little nub rose up under his tongue. Then he nuzzled at the other one.
Trowa gave him a faint smile as Quatre pulled back, then unbuttoned his own shirt with hasty hands. He tossed it aside and his breath caught as he looked at Trowa, just simply looked at him...*his* Trowa.
The Arabian pilot surged forward, catching Trowa in his arms to kiss him again. He parted the taller pilot's lips with his tongue, ran it along the line of his upper lip until Trowa opened for him, then slipped inside. *I love you...* He placed a hand on Trowa's thigh again, rubbing more firmly this time. His thumb brushed against the bulge of his lover's groin and Trowa shivered.
"You okay?" Quatre murmured, concerned.
Trowa simply nodded and wound his arms around the smaller pilot, pulling him back, blindly seeking his lips like a drowning man. Quatre obliged him, dropping soft kisses over his entire face as he lowered Trowa to the couch slowly, giving him plenty of opportunity to resist if he was uncomfortable. Trowa pulled Quatre closer, and his face was almost serene as he shifted on the couch, legs opening for the golden-haired pilot to settle between them. They both froze at the sensation, then Quatre sighed, rubbing against him.
He kissed a line from collarbone to chest, encountered a nipple and nuzzled at it. Trowa's breath hitched in his throat. He closed on the other one, sucking at it but not too hard, trying to be gentle even though it was getting hard to concentrate with the insistent heat pooling between his legs, focused exquisitely through the contact with Trowa's throbbing, cloth-trapped length. He wandered further down, listening to Trowa's quickened breathing, and kissed at the little recess of his navel, unbuttoning Trowa's pants with fingers that shook only a little.
"Shouldn't we--" Trowa's breath sounded stuck in his throat, more labored.
Quatre froze, about to slip a hand into his pants.
"Shouldn't we do this on the bed?" Trowa's voice cracked slightly.
Quatre tugged at his pants, pulling them off and tossing them aside. "Okay," he replied, and sat back on his heels. He smiled, to distract himself from noticing how Trowa's erection was straining up against his-- "Boxers. I thought so."
Trowa flushed and sat up.
Quatre gave him a quick, messy kiss and pulled him off the couch, walking over to the bed and turning, suddenly breathless, a little overwhelmed at the enormity of what they were doing. The first time, for both of them. Together.
He put a hand to his pants.
"Let me," Trowa murmured, stepping into him and surprising him. Quatre's skin shivered under his touch as Trowa hooked his fingers into the top of his pants, pulling him closer, then unbuttoned his pants. He unzipped them, and a little shiver went through the golden-haired boy's spine at the pressure so close to his aching penis. With a slight push, his pants tumbled around his ankles. Quatre blinked, feeling enormously self-conscious, wondering if he should remove his underwear now or later.
From the look on Trowa's face, *he* certainly wasn't going to do it. The taller pilot's face looked uncertain again.
Quatre suddenly had a teasing thought, and hoped Trowa wouldn't have a heart attack while he did it. He grabbed Trowa's wrists and tumbled him backwards onto the bed. Trowa's eyes widened, then Quatre was on top of him, grinning triumphantly.
"Caught you."
Trowa's lip twitched. "Yes...you did."
Quatre bent down and kissed him, slow and lingering, their tongues twining together. He shifted on top of his lover, then stretched out over his body again, shifting and pressing up against his groin. Quatre let go of Trowa's wrists and grabbed up a handful of rose petals, brushing them over Trowa's smooth skin. He kissed him, slipping his tongue into Trowa's mouth and rocking up against him at the same time. A low noise escaped Trowa's throat.
They kissed for a long time, as Quatre played with the rose petals and smooth expanses of Trowa's skin, then he couldn't wait any longer. He moved down again, and tugged off Trowa's boxers as the other boy's body grew very still, breath catching in his throat.
"Wow," Quatre's eyes rounded.
"What?" Trowa asked tensely.
"It's...you're very..." Quatre blushed. "You'reverybig...Trowa."
Trowa coughed, and the tip of his erection bobbed. Then he laughed. Quatre, abashed, laughed a little too, mostly at himself. Then he brushed a rose petal over the tip of the erection, over the few glistening drops of moisture that had collected at the tip, and Trowa gasped, his hips lifting. Quatre took this as a positive sign, and continued running the velvety soft petal over Trowa's hardness.
"Quatre...please..." Trowa whispered hoarsely, straining upwards.
The golden-haired boy paused, wondering what to do next. He bent over and took Trowa's length in his mouth, running his tongue around the flared rim. A strangled noise escaped the brown-banged pilot's throat and he thrust upward into Quatre's mouth, nearly choking him. Quatre pulled back a little, then tried licking and sucking at him, occasionally plunging his mouth down. He listened, attuned to Trowa's breathing and intermittent moans as a guide to whether or not he was doing it right. Based on Trowa's unusually enthusiastic reactions, he guessed he was.
Finally Trowa's shaft began to throb harder and he pulled back, remembering something.
"Quatre..." Trowa sounded very frustrated.
"No, wait," he replied, patting Trowa's thigh. "I want you to come...when I'm inside of you." He paused. "Is that okay?"
Trowa closed his eyes, then opened them again, meeting Quatre's brilliant sapphire gaze with his own emerald one. Slowly he nodded.
Quatre quickly stripped his underwear off and tossed it where Trowa's boxers had gone, off the edge of the bed. Then he kneeled uncertainly between Trowa's legs. "What--what do I--" Silently Trowa lifted his legs, placing them over Quatre's shoulders and the golden-haired pilot gasped, placing himself at the entrance, looking almost pleadingly down into his lover's eyes, wanting a word of reassurance, or desire, or...something...as he prepared to take him.
Trowa met his gaze steadily. "I love you."
That was it. The first time...
Quatre pushed inside, wincing as Trowa did, face tight with pain, trying to ease up but Trowa clutched at him, with his legs and hands and that tight grabbing ring of muscle and he slid further inside, almost sobbing with the pure delight of this most wonderful first time, both the pleasure of coming into Trowa, and hearing him say those words. He halted, panting, as he finally reached all the way inside, and bent to kiss Trowa's lips again. Trowa groaned as Quatre moved inside him, and his own hardness was pressed and rubbed against the Arabian's taut stomach.
"I love you," he replied, repeating it as his lips wandered over Trowa's mouth, tasting his lips deeply as he started to move inside of him. Trowa kissed him back, slipped arms around him and pulled him close as Quatre thrust faster, caught up in the uncontrollable searing surge of passion that bound them up together. Trowa raised his hips to meet him, and cried out as he began to come, pushing up hard against Quatre's stomach, the thick fluid spurting out over them both.
Quatre gasped, his breath rasping in his throat and he kissed Trowa as he pumped harder, clutching at his shoulders, biting at his lover's lower lip, ate at his mouth and rocked into him with a few slow but intense thrusts. He pulled himself rigid between Trowa's legs, every nerve singing as he emptied his passion into the tight embrace of Trowa's body. Then he collapsed on top of him.
He stroked a hand over Trowa's face, a satisfied smile crossing his lips. Trowa's eyes were closed, his face smoothed of all expression. Quatre started to feel a little anxious as the moment stretched longer. "Ne...Trowa...?"
Trowa's eyes opened. "That was wonderful, Quatre," he murmured.
Quatre's eyes lit up. He slid out of Trowa, letting the tall pilot release his legs from their almost jackknifed position, and cuddled up next to him. "It was really special," he agreed, kissing him again.
"Thank you," Trowa whispered against his hair.
Quatre was surprised. "For what?" Hadn't they both gotten pleasure out of it? He should be thanking Trowa.
Trowa paused. "For a good first date. And this first..." He stopped and hugged Quatre to his chest.
Quatre understood. He smiled happily.
"I love you."
The End
(:./talya/dateo)
