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"25 Days of Gundam Wing"Written By: The Plotting Housewife Disclaimer: Gundam Wing belongs to Bandai, Sotsu
and associated Parties. This work is written for pleasure not profit. Rating: NC 17 Warnings: Mild smut, Roleplay, Mild kink, Spanking. Pairings: 3x4 Summary: Trowa and Quatre get their Christmas freak on. Prompt: Noel "25 Days of Gundam Wing "
"Quatre." He froze in the doorway, his arms loaded down with packages. That voice. Quatre knew that voice and what it meant. It was deep, gravelly and dark with danger. He swallowed the lump in his throat and slowly turned towards the direction it came from. The living room was dim, the blinds closed. A tall, broad-shouldered figure sat eerily still in of the armchairs that flanked the fireplace. The man’s features were indiscernible. Only his silhouette was visible, a menacing shadow. Quatre's heart quickened, pounding against his rib cage. He knew exactly who it was and that knowledge was enough to encase his bones in ice. "Trowa? What are you doing here?" Trowa was silent as he rose from the chair. His powerful body loomed as he moved forward into his personal space. Quatre could now see that he was wrapped in a long, red robe, trimmed with white fur. It was parted, revealing the man's strong, smooth chest and Quatre, despite the threatening atmosphere, had to force himself to refrain from touching the tempting skin and feel the sinewy muscles twitch beneath his fingertips. A hand shot out, lightning quick, grabbing him by the throat and pulling him in against the man’s body. Trowa bent his head down and brushed his nose against the soft skin of his neck, his breath hot and laced with arousal. Trowa's lips parted, speaking in a whisper against his fluttering pulse. "You've been a naughty boy." Before Quatre could even find the wits to protest, he was forcefully grabbed and lifted bodily, thrown over the man’s shoulder like a sack of flour. Indignant, he squeaked and thumped Trowa’s back with his fists as he was carried over to the chair. A moment later, the room spun and he found himself face down across Trowa’s lap, his fingers scraping the carpeted floor for purchase. He blushed with mortification as his pants were yanked down to his thighs, followed by a rough, calloused palm caressing the creamy skin of his buttocks. He tried to control his jack-rabbiting pulse, panting against Trowa's bare leg. He knew what was coming and braced himself for impact and he was not disappointed when the punishment came. The silence of the room was broken by the resounding crack of palm against skin. He yelped and squirmed over Trowa's lap, legs kicking, fingers clawing the carpet as another strike came down, then another, and another. "Trowa, please! I didn’t do anything!" There was no response, no pause, or hesitance as the hits continued. He muffled his cries against Trowa’s leg and endured the sting of his punishment, feeling the skin of his ass grow hotter and hotter. After ten strikes, Trowa shoved him off and he rolled across the floor, shaky and sniffling. Trowa remained seated, watching, waiting. Quatre rubbed his sore backside and stared up at the man with frightened eyes. "Wh - what do you want?" Trowa’s eyes gleamed with a sinister light as he rasped, "You know." He shivered and nodded in defeat, reaching down to pull his trousers all the way off and then waited for the next command. Trowa’s hand lifted, palm up as he ordered him to stand up. He shakily got to his feet, flushing at his exposed lower half. Trowa opened his robe all the way, revealing his erection. He crooked his finger and pointed at his groin with the other. “Ride it, baby. You know you want to.” He sniffled, straddled the man's thighs, and sunk down onto the lubricated length, breath catching in his throat from the intense stretching sensation. Trowa grasped his trembling hands and circled his arms around his neck, his own wrapping around Quatre's back and pulling him against his chest. Quatre knew better than to make the first move and waited for the man who held him prisoner to start thrusting. He bit down on his tongue, moaning like a shameless whore as Trowa pressed up into him and began thrusting. He knew exactly how to do it, how to angle his erection to touch the most sensitive places inside him that would cause him to melt with pleasure. He rested his head on the man’s shoulder and resigned himself to the fucking. There was nothing left to do, but enjoy the ride. The rhythm built up to a brutal pace and he felt the imminence of release, keening openly as his climax rose up swift and powerful. Trowa pressed his lips against the shell of his ear and whispered the command that he knew would tumble them both into existential bliss. "Say my name." He hovered at the peak for an endless moment, his mouth opening and closing as his brain struggled to find the right words. “Hnngh...ah, God. Père - Père Noël!” The agony crested and spilled over and he bit down into the meaty flesh of Trowa’s shoulder, his body rolling and shaking, riding the waves of ecstasy. Trowa grabbed a handful of his blond curls and pulled his head up, pressing their mouths together as he groaned through his own climax. After a few moments of white-hot rapture, they collapsed together in a panting, sweating heap of trembling limbs and soft laughter. “Jesus, Trowa,” he huffed, trying to shake the haze of afterglow enough to speak coherently. "Did you like that? Was it kinky enough for you?" He chuckled and kissed his lover’s neck. “And then some. Talk about pleasant surprises.” “Well, I know how hard you’ve been working and how much stress you’ve been under with all this Christmas stuff. I just wanted to help you relax.” “You certainly accomplished that,” he said, lifting up enough to get a proper kiss. “It was perfect. Best Christmas present I ever had." “Better than diamonds?” “Well, diamonds are a girl’s best friend. You can’t deny that a shiny rock would look superb on my hand.” ~ * ~ |
