July 2000
Yaoi, 3x4, NC:17.
Quatre looked in the mirror, nervously adjusting his tie. He looked at himself critically. He always thought he looked ridiculous in a formal suit, like a kid playing dress up. And why was he nervous, anyway? He had been to the opera a thousand times, dressed up like this. But never with Trowa, he added mentally. He looked in the mirror again, horrified to realize he was blushing. In his own room, alone. How in the world was he going to handle being alone with Trowa when he couldn't even think about it without blushing and getting aroused, he noted, looking down at himself. Luckily, his erection didn't show too much in the formal pants. Quatre sighed. They would be late if he didn't get going soon.
Earlier...
The pilots were staying at one of Quatre's houses between missions. It was near a large city that had an opera house, so naturally the Winner family owned a large private box.
Quatre could tell the other boys were somewhat bored, so he suggested that they all go see the opera company's latest production. When told the opera to be performed was "Madame Butterfly," Wufei cringed and came up with an implausible excuse that Quatre chose to accept.
Heero and Duo looked at each other, eyes widening. Duo said, "Uh, Q- man, it's not that I don't like opera," Heero coughed significantly at this, "But Heero promised to teach me... um... how to hack Pokemon Stadium tonight, you know, and ..." Duo trailed off lamely.
Quatre was just about to let Duo and Heero off the hook when Trowa spoke up, surprising him.
"Looks like it's just you and me, then, Quatre," the emerald-eyed boy said with a small smile. Trowa looked directly at him and Quatre felt a shiver that went directly from his stomach to his groin. Quatre blushed as he realized Trowa had said something else but he had totally missed it.
"S-sorry?" Quatre apologized, completely missing the smirk Heero and Duo were sharing behind him. Quatre wasn't as subtle as he thought he was about his feelings for the banged pilot.
Trowa hid a smile, feeling sorry for making Quatre uncomfortable. He had wanted to tell the blond angel how he felt about him for a long time, but he didn't feel himself to be worthy of Quatre. Trowa was happy to at least spend some time alone with the object of his affection, even if he could never tell him how he felt.
Trowa repeated, "I don't have anything formal to wear. I assume it's black tie. And I doubt anything you have would fit me," he finished with a rueful smile.
Quatre admired Trowa's tall, lithe frame, imagining him in a tuxedo, or a tailcoat, or nothing at all.... Quatre snapped his attention back to the present and tried to rein in his wandering hormones.
"Um... do you have anything black?" Quatre managed. Trowa nodded. "Then we should be fine. It's a private box, after all, and since my family practically built the new wing, I think they'll overlook not-quite- formal clothing just once."
Trowa nodded in acquiescence.
"It's all settled, then!" Quatre clapped his hands happily. I'll have the limo ready at 7, is that ok, Trowa?" Trowa nodded.
Trowa felt happy to have made his angel smile. He knew he would barely notice the opera tonight, and would just bask in a rare moment alone with Quatre. His mind wandered at the thought of Quatre in a tux, wondering what he would wear underneath.
Duo cleared his throat, and Quatre and Trowa realized they were staring at each other in silence. Both blushed as Duo began, "Well I guess me and Heero will get out of your way, then, so you can... Ouch! Watch the hair, Heero!" Duo yelled as Heero got a secure hold on his braid and tried to drag him out before the longhaired boy started babbling.
"Hn."
Quatre giggled as he watched them go. He hoped they would hurry up and admit their feelings to one another before he had to do it for them. Unconscious of any hypocrisy, he turned back to Trowa, wondering how he could manage to brush up against him in the limo without being too obvious.
Later...
As Quatre descended the stairs, he heard Trowa's voice call out, "The limo's out front, Quatre."
"Coming, Trowa," Quatre called out and stifled another blush at his choice of words. He was concentrating on calming the flock of butterflies in his stomach when he caught sight of Trowa waiting for him at the bottom of the staircase. Quatre gasped and nearly fell down the rest of the stairs as he saw what the other pilot was wearing.
Trowa had somehow managed to pour himself into the tightest pair of black leather pants Quatre had ever seen. Quatre didn't know how Trowa managed to zip them, let alone breathe in them. They accentuated his lean form and left absolutely nothing to the imagination. Quatre somehow dragged his eyes away from Trowa's crotch to take in the fact that Trowa was also wearing a loose black silk shirt that had the effect of emphasizing his narrow waist even more. The first two buttons were undone and Quatre licked his lips at the expanse of creamy skin he could see. He had never seen Trowa in anything other than his turtleneck or flight suit. Trowa looked good enough to eat, and Quatre would have loved nothing better than to do just that.
Trowa, for his part, was so stunned by the vision that was currently descending the stairs he failed to notice that vision was currently acting rather strangely. Trowa's mouth had gone dry at the first glimpse of Quatre. The perfectly cut suit showed off his slim form to perfection, and the black made Quatre look even more luminously golden. His blond hair shone like a crown upon his exquisite head, and his wide blue eyes looked even more expressive swimming above a sea of black. Quatre couldn't have looked more like an angel if he were wearing wings. Trowa had been half-aroused in anticipation of seeing Quatre dressed up, and now his full erection ached as it was constricted by the skintight pants.
Trowa found his voice first, after clearing his throat a couple of times. "You look amazing, Quatre. I've never seen you in black."
"Thanks, Trowa," answered Quatre shyly. "You look great too."
Quatre managed to make his way down the rest of the stairs without incident. He paused beside Trowa, looked up at the banged pilot and said, "Ready?"
You don't know how ready, Trowa thought, but answered only with a nod. They proceeded out to the large black car that awaited them.
Quatre was disappointed that the limo was so large as to preclude any excuse to touch Trowa. The ride to the opera house was uneventful, and soon they arrived.
They were shown to the Winner box with a level of obsequiousness that made even Quatre blush. Complimentary champagne was presented, even though both boys were quite obviously underage. Finally, they were left alone in the small room, surrounded by yards of crushed red velvet. Most of the boxes had individual chairs, but Quatre had requested a small couch be placed in the box, especially for tonight.
"Would you like some champagne?" Quatre asked.
Trowa considered. He didn't usually drink, but he supposed one glass wouldn't hurt. Maybe it would help him relax, in fact. Looking at Quatre in the semi-darkness of the box was giving him funny feelings in his stomach. "Ok."
Quatre poured Trowa a glass, and after some consideration, poured himself one as well. Quatre didn't really like to drink, but he thought it wouldn't hurt just this once.
The two boys settled themselves on the small couch, hips nearly touching. They were both happily contemplating the prospect of nearly two hours alone together. They watched the orchestra tune up and sipped champagne. Quatre found that he greatly enjoyed just being near Trowa and chatting about meaningless things, like normal people. Like normal people on a date, he thought to himself, biting his lip to keep from giggling. Not that he had ever been on a date, but this is how he imagined it might be.
The opera was about to begin. The lights dimmed, and the audience hushed. Quatre noted with satisfaction that no one in the audience could really see into the box. It was very private. Quatre toyed with the idea of scooting closer to Trowa, on the pretense of whispering a question in his ear. Quatre finally gathered the courage to do just that. He leaned over... unfortunately just at the same time Trowa seemed to have the same idea. Their heads connected with a crack, and Trowa lost his grip on his champagne glass. He watched in horror as, seemingly in slow motion, the half full glass tumbled right into Quatre's lap. Both boys gasped.
"Oh, Quatre, I'm so sorry," said Trowa sadly. "I've ruined your pants." Trowa fumbled for a napkin to soak up the spill.
"No, that's ok, Trowa, the servants can get the stain out," said Quatre frantically, realizing that Trowa's hand was heading for his lap. He was already half-aroused, and as Trowa's hand approached his arousal grew further. His condition was not visible in the low light, but Trowa would most definitely feel it any second.
End Part 1
To Be Continued
(:./jade/opera1)
