|
"Love On A Blueprint"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: Gundam Wing: Frozen Teardrop, PWP, Yaoi,
Lemon, Future Fic, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Oral Sex, Smut, Humor Pairings: 3x4, Trowa Phobos/Katherine Winner (Mentioned) Summary: Frozen Teardrop timeline. Quatre is looking
at possible Gundam candidates for Katherine when Trowa decides it's
time for a break. "Love On A Blueprint " Quatre scratched his chin as he looked over the schematics for the new and 'improved' Gundam. The 'improved' part was added on by the pinhead engineer who somehow thought the machine's missile launchers would serve better in a rather...non-conventional...place. Unfortunately, that place was inconveniently, or conveniently, depending on the observer's level of perversion, located between the mech's legs. He couldn't for the life of him figure out why the hell Duo was cackling like an idiot over the phone when he'd forwarded the plans to Quatre's lab. Holding the blueprint up to the light, he now knew why. He had to give mad props to the rookie engineer for imagination, but it would just not do to have Katherine flying around the solar system in a Gundam that shot missiles from its crotch. A giggle erupted from deep in his gut and rose up, like a gas bubble, into his esophagus. It escaped between his lips in a harsh bark of laughter, and he doubled over in a fit of mirth, scribbling 'Dud' onto the blueprint in black, permanent marker. Still chuckling, he made a mental note to shred the thing later, and set it to the side to check the other candidates. At any rate, there was a flaw in the calculations that, if Quatre ever decided to build this monstrosity, and didn't catch it, ran the risk of the missile canons coming loose from their hinges and angling upwards. If that happened and the missiles were launched, they could end up hitting the host Gundam itself. He sifted through one print after another, discarding each one as a definite "No". None of them were any good, it seemed. Where, oh, where have all the good engineers gone, he wondered. They just didn't make them like they used to. Back in his day, when he was flying Gundams, they were built by the most brilliant of minds. Minds that never would have drawn flawed blueprints. Never would have allowed for even the most trivial of mistakes. Quatre's thoughts turned nostalgic. His own dear Sandrock never let him down. That Gundam had been magnificent. Perfect in every way. Instructor H had taken great care in his design and subsequent construction of Sandrock. He swallowed down a wave of emotion as he thought of his beloved Gundam and its wayward creator, may they both rest in peace. He gave the schematics another once-over and crossed them all off the list of possible contenders. There was no way his sister would be operating any of these abominations. Well, he thought, if you want something done right, you gotta do it yourself. He swiped his mechanical pencil off the work surface, after having to brush aside several piles of notes and documents before he could locate it, and began sketching out a preliminary design. Something similar to Sandrock, but enhanced, with more long-range combat options than his Gundam had. He wanted the heat shotels to remain as the primary weapon, but he wanted to add close to the amount of firepower that Heavyarms possessed. He'd never be able to fit guns as large as Heavyarms' onto it with the shotels attached. He wanted the Gundam to be able to move freely and not be weighed down by too much artillery. He settled for a smaller version, tapping the eraser end of the pencil against his lip as he tried to figure out the most optimal place to install them. Let it be said that a working Quatre is a very immersed Quatre. He was someone who delved into his task with a single-minded focus, tunneling out the rest of the world. Which would account for the jump and ear-piercing shriek he let out when arms closed themselves around his midsection from behind. Thankfully, Trowa was well-accustomed to this reaction and swiftly caught the right hook as the startled man whirled around, intent on fighting off his attacker. He held Quatre's fist in a firm hand and waited for him to acclimate himself back to reality. Quatre stared at him, eyes the size of saucers, pupils huge with adrenaline. He took a deep breath, trying to slow his jack-rabbiting heart, and hissed, "Jesus, Trowa! You scared the shit out of me. I hate it when you do that." Trowa's mellow expression never changed. "Sorry," he said, though there was no trace of remorse on his face, or in his voice. There was a slight curl to his lips as his fingers caressed the blond's fist, still captured in his hand. Quatre's eyes narrowed. "I'll bet you are," he muttered, turning back to his work. "I think you enjoy doing that." He flipped his pencil and began erasing the long, squiggly line that he'd mistakenly put there when his lover decided to give him a stroke. "Now, look what you did," he complained as he tried to fix his now ruined design. Trowa leaned against the blond's back, peering over his shoulder. "I didn't do that. You did," he said with infuriating calmness. "Yeah, because you made me because you just had to -" He stopped abruptly when he felt the other man's chest shaking against his back. That son of a bitch was laughing. Quatre groaned, "I hate you." "No, you don't," Trowa said, not fazed in the slightest. "Yeah, well..." Quatre mumbled, beginning to lose himself in his work again. Trowa pressed against the body in his arms, rubbing his groin against the soft swell of buttocks, hands wandering down past Quatre's waist. There was a gasp, a stuttering breath, and the blond tensed. "Uh...what do you think you're doing?" Trowa huffed a soft laugh against the back of Quatre's neck. "If you honestly have to ask me that, we're in big trouble." His deft hands worked their way through the folds of the blond's lab coat, cupping his swelling groin. Quatre's breath caught and he turned in Trowa's arms, brows lowered in disapproval. "Trowa. The kids could walk in on us." He peered around his lover's broad shoulders, as if said "kids" were lurking nearby, waiting to catch them in a compromising position. Quatre wouldn't put it past Katherine. Trowa lifted his shoulders in a shrug. "I sent them out on a date," he said nonchalantly. "You what?!" "What?" Trowa pulled back, confused by the blond's outrage. "I gave them some credits and told them to go have fun. Now, we have the place to ourselves for a few - what's the problem?" Trowa watched as Quatre's still-youthful face contorted with fury. "You sent my little sister on a date? And you didn't inform me of this first? Do you know, are you even aware of all the trouble she - they - could get themselves into? Have you any idea -" "Baby...baby, look. She'll be fine." Trowa cupped his love's face, looked deep into fretting eyes. "She's eighteen years old and she's a Gundam pilot. I think she can take care of herself. And she's with Trowa -" "I know! That's the problem! What if they have sex? Oh God, she's going to get pregnant -" Quatre turned away, hands fisted in his hair, ranting about all the horrible things that could happen if Katherine was let out of his sight for a few hours. Trowa wisely decided not to comment that he was pretty sure they were already having sex. He was also smart enough not to remind Quatre of the things they'd gotten up to when they were Katherine's age. That probably wouldn't help Quatre's current state of mind. "Quat...relax. Nothing bad is going to happen. Hey -" "- Can't believe you would stoop this low just so you could have your naughty time with me, this is just so typical -" Quatre was still going off on his tangent, slapping at Trowa's grasping hands. Trowa scoffed. Naughty time? How old were they? Okay, enough of this. He reached for the blond who was practically foaming at the mouth as he rattled off a laundry list of sexually transmitted diseases they could catch. Trowa was fairly certain Quatre was making a few of them up as he went along. He grabbed him by the lab coat and reeled him back into his arms. Quatre was blattering off in Arabic now and Trowa could pick out the occasional curse word. He paused to take a breath and Trowa seized the moment to press his mouth against Quatre's before his tirade could begin again. Quatre's protest was lost in a moan as Trowa's tongue slipped into his open mouth. His hands traveled up the firm chest, covered by a linen shirt. They snaked around his neck, carding through the short hairs at the back of his lover's neck. Their argument sparked in his mind, reminding Quatre that he was supposed to be angry. He pressed his hands against Trowa's chest, pulling his head away from the kiss. "You're a manipulative bastard," he glared at his lover. Trowa dipped his head and nipped kisses into the crook of Quatre's neck and shoulder. "I learned from the best," he whispered into the slightly damp skin. Quatre groaned, head tipping back. That was a low blow, but the combination of Trowa's lips and tongue were making it hard for him to focus on his righteous indignation. He leaned up, pressing his mouth against Trowa's, kissing him with fervor. To hell with it. They'd discuss the issue afterwards. If his sister ended up pregnant, or diseased, Quatre would just have to castrate Phobos at the first opportunity. He slid his hands down Trowa's chest, popping the little plastic buttons as he went, exposing the muscled chest and abdomen. He trailed kisses over the salty skin, nipping here and there, and Trowa's chest vibrated with a soft groan. Quatre smirked, turning his head, and sucked a nipple into his mouth, massaging it with his tongue. He lightly pressed his teeth around the nub and pulled slightly. Trowa gasped, hands wrapping around the blond's shoulders to push him away from the now too sensitive nipple. But Quatre was stubborn and bit down harder. Not too hard, but enough to remind Trowa that he was still in trouble. Trowa hissed through his teeth as Quatre abandoned the first nipple and kissed his way over to the other, giving it the same treatment. His hands wandered down to the button of his jeans, slipping it through the hole, and grasping the zipper to pull it down. His hands delved inside, bypassing the boxer shorts and going for the prize. Trowa groaned as one of the blond's hands wrapped around his aching erection, the other cupping his balls. Quatre pulled his mouth off the now red and puffy nipple, giving it a final swipe with his tongue. He raised his eyes to meet the dilated gaze of his lover. Quatre gave him a saucy wink and sunk down to his knees, pulling down Trowa's jeans and underwear as he went. The floor was cold and hard through the khaki material of his trousers, but he ignored it. There was a large, throbbing cock right in front of his face that made the mild discomfort more than worth it. He licked his lips and leaned forward, bracing himself by wrapping his hands around Trowa's calves. He poked his tongue out and licked along the side of the shaft before dipping his head to wrap his lips around the tightened skin of Trowa's scrotum, pulling gently. Trowa's hands found purchase on Quatre's head, tangling his fingers into the blond curls. "Fuck...Quat..." He sucked at Trowa's balls until he felt the long, lean legs start to tremble. He raised a hand, massaging them firmly as he pulled his head back. With a quick glance up at his lover through his lashes, he shivered as Trowa's eyes gleamed with hunger. He sucked the head of Trowa's cock into his mouth and Trowa groaned his pleasure as Quatre took the entire length in, laving the velvety skin with his tongue. Trowa's head tipped back, throat vibrating with a moan. Damn, but Quatre was good at that. It helped that Quatre loved doing it. He'd always treated Trowa's cock with reverence. A thing to be worshipped and at times like these, Trowa had never been so grateful for such an attentive, devoted lover. Quatre's head bobbed, taking Trowa's cock deep into his throat, opening up completely, and ignoring his gag reflex as it began to protest the intrusion. He pulled back, mouth full of excess saliva. He used it to lubricate the hard shaft, spreading it liberally with his tongue. A few drops dripped from his lip and slid to his chin. Trowa's hands twitched and pulled, bringing Quatre's head back in until his nose was nestled into the crisp curls of his pubic hair. Quatre inhaled the musky scent and moaned heatedly, vibrating the cock in his mouth, and causing Trowa to hiss through his teeth. His own cock throbbed for attention and he used the heel of his hand to grind down on it. Reassurance that it would soon be tended to, and refocused his attention on Trowa. He pulled back and leaned forward again, swallowing around the head, massaging Trowa's balls between his fingers until his knees began to wobble, breath coming fast and hard. Trowa reached down, wrapping his fingers beneath Quatre's arms, and pulled until the blond struggled to his feet. Trowa wrapped his lover in strong arms and devoured his mouth, hands snaking down to squeeze the cheeks of his ass. Quatre was breathless by the time he pulled away, and he found himself being spun around. Trowa's hands pressing down on his back until he was bent over the workstation, the previously discarded blueprints against his face. He inhaled the strong scent of computer ink as Trowa's hands made quick work unfastening his trousers. They slipped down his legs, pooling around his feet, cool air brushing against his bare skin. His underwear immediately followed and then Trowa was leaning over him. The hard press of his damp cock slipped between Quatre's thighs, brushing against his balls, and teasing his perineum. Quatre groaned as the feeling of vulnerable anticipation swept across his body. The knowledge that he was going to get fucked, right there in the lab, his shirt and lab coat rucked up around his middle, and his body shivered in delight. Trowa pulled back slightly, and Quatre heard the rustling of fabric as he kicked his jeans and underwear off all the way, then rifled through the pockets. Quatre took the opportunity to rid himself of his own pants and underwear, using one foot, then the other, to pull off the garments. He heard the flip of a plastic cap, and then he hissed as fingers, covered in cold gel, worked their way between his buttocks, pressing into his moist, intimate center. The fingers slipped in and Quatre's head dropped to the desk, the scent of paper and ink strong in his nose. The mild discomfort passed in only seconds and was replaced with the mind-bending feeling of fullness. An itch deep within, begging to be scratched. Trowa's fingers, long familiar with the workings of Quatre's body, found that special place with little effort, and rubbed against it. Quatre's legs shook and he groaned helplessly, a slave to the pleasure. Trowa's cock was brushing along his inner thigh and Quatre was dying to get it inside him. "Tro - Trowa - ah! - Oh, god...fuck me..." He slurred against the desk, eyes half closed, unfocused, drool collecting at the corner of his mouth. Trowa pressed his fingers in all the way, rendering the blond mindless. He shoved his shirt and lab coat up his back, pressing his lips to the hot skin, nipping at the ridges of his spine. "Yeah..." he whispered hoarsely into Quatre's vertebrae. He pulled his fingers out and popped the cap on the lube, squeezing a dollop into his palm. He wrapped his hand around his aching cock and moved it up and down, spreading the gel over the turgid flesh. Satisfied that they were both well-lubricated, Trowa held his shaft with one hand and used the other to part the cheeks of Quatre's ass. He pressed forward, the tip of his cock piercing the tiny opening. Without waiting for his lover to adjust, he pushed against him, watching with hungry eyes, as Quatre's body swallowed the length of his cock. He leaned forward, all the way in, pressing his body against his lover's back, and just remained there a moment, feeling the hot clench of Quatre's inner muscles, listening to the hitch in his lover's breath as he panted against the desk, the papers ruffling beneath his cheek. It wasn't long before Trowa's cock became impatient at the lack of movement and it throbbed within the confines of Quatre's body. He leaned up, pressing his hands against the smooth skin of the blond's back and withdrew until only the tip of his cock was buried. He paused, waited for the minute wiggle of Quatre's hips, then pushed in until his balls rested against his lover's backside. He quickened his movements until he established a moderate pace, his hips slapping against the plump cheeks of Quatre's ass, watching as his cock disappeared into his lover's body over and over. Quatre panted, moaned, and drooled onto the desktop, fingers curling around the various documents and blueprints, wrinkling some of them beyond repair. Trowa fucked him harshly, the blinking lights, and scrolling codes of the numerous computer screens flashing in his peripheral vision. Immersed in the searing vice of his love's body, he groaned as he drove himself in and out, mind shutting out everything but the heady pleasure centered in his groin. It rose and ebbed, rose and ebbed, each wave getting stronger and stronger until he felt his balls tightening as he skirted the edge of white, hot ecstasy. He reached around Quatre's trembling body, wrapping his fingers around the blond's weeping cock, pulling and tugging until it pulsed in his grip. He felt the drips across the back of his hand as his lover reached his climax. Felt the vibration against his chest as Quatre's shout echoed off the walls of the lab. Felt his love's body droop and sag against the desktop, spent from his orgasm. Trowa leaned back, grasping Quatre's hips with shaking fingers, and drove his cock into the exhausted body, bouncing his lover against the desk with each powerful thrust. The sensations in his cock reached a crescendo and he teetered at the top for an endless moment, before the searing point of concentrated pleasure burst outward in all directions, spreading sweet agony throughout his body. He held his hips tight against Quatre's ass as he released his orgasm into the sated body in front of him, leaning over onto the sweaty back, burying his face into the folds of the blond's lab coat, as he groaned through his climax. Quatre was slumped over the desk, sweaty, breathing heavily, eyes closed. There was a slight curl to his lips as he basked in the afterglow, reveling at the feel of Trowa softening inside him. Trowa rested against him for a few moments as he gathered his wits about him, then he leaned up, and carefully pulled his cock out. He stretched the crick in his back and turned to locate their pants and underwear. He helped a shaky Quatre upright, laughing when one of the blueprints stuck to his damp cheek, and handed him his garments. Quatre pulled his lab coat off and used it to wipe his groin down, then discarded it on the floor to be cleaned up later. He sat back, gingerly, on a stool as he struggled to work his wobbly legs back into his boxers. He glanced up at Trowa, eyebrow raised at the smug look in his lover's eyes as Trowa buttoned his jeans. He sneered. "Don't look at me like that," he muttered. "Amazing sex notwithstanding...you're still in the doghouse." Trowa smirked, "Okay." "I'm serious, Trowa. She's my sister. I should know these things before they happen." He slid his trousers up his legs and fastened them. Trowa relented. "Quatre...love, she's an adult. It's high time you start treating her like one." "But -" "No buts. You know I'm right." He bent down to retrieve Quatre's lab coat, bundling it up under one arm. The blond sighed. "Damn it. I know." He gave Trowa a baleful look. "I hate it when you're right." Trowa shot him a warm smile. "No, you don't. You love it." "Oh God! Were you two having sex?!" The couple jumped, spinning around to find Katherine standing on a nearby platform, a silent Trowa Phobos behind her, watching them with a neutral expression. Quatre fixed his sister with an affronted look. "Wh - no!" Katherine looked horrified. "Ugh! You were! Ew! Ew ew ew ew ew ewwww..." She spun on her heel and walked out of the room, utterly grossed out. Her lover followed her, a little awkwardly, but he shot the two men a shy smile on his way out. "Hey!" Quatre shouted at her retreating back. "I'll have you know that we've been doing this long bef -" He was cut off as Trowa covered his mouth with a hand. "Not helping," he whispered in Quatre's ear. "Gross!" Katherine's shout was heard from the next room. "Nothing like walking in on your parents." Offended, Quatre wrenched Trowa's arm away from his face. "We are not your parents!" End.
~ * ~ |
