"Heartbreak Café"

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: Angst, Drama, Fluff, Smut, Threesome - M/M/M, Polyamory, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Oral Sex, Rimming, Top/Bottom Dynamics, implied infidelity, Breakup, Disability

Pairings: 5x2, 5x2x4, 3x4, 3xMidi Une

Summary: After Trowa breaks his heart, Quatre leaves his life behind to open a coffee shop called the Heartbreak Café. Just when he finally begins to pick up the shattered pieces of his life, his two newest customers arrive to usurp the delicate balance.

" Heartbreak Café"

Chapter 4: Heartbreak Café

The name of the coffee shop had come to Quatre in an epiphany of sorts. Namely one that included getting piss drunk with Adila during the little two-person 'party' she threw for him as a Bon Voyage type deal.

They frequented the bars and clubs of L4, trying new and unique drink concoctions until the wee hours of the morning. Quatre had a pocketful of tiny wooden umbrellas that stabbed him in the groin every time he sat down. He wobbled alongside her, his cane in hand as they walked from one bar to the next.

Adila had gotten him the cane a few weeks ago to replace his walker. It was a beautiful piece of craftsmanship of rich mahogany wood with a marble handle. She'd bought it from an artisan vendor in the Eastern district who was well known for his handmade custom work. She'd presented it to him wrapped in a big red bow. He was still getting used to it. It was harder to balance his weight evenly on it. The walker had been much more stable, but he was determined not to use it anymore. He much preferred the cane. Adila said it gave him quite the distinguished, gentlemanly air.

"Hang on, Addie. I need to sit for a minute." Drinking while on already damaged legs and learning to use a cane didn't make a good combination, he realized too little too late. He dropped down onto a bench, huffing a little. He was tired, his legs ached, but he knew not as much as they would be had he been completely sober.

She sat down beside him and patted his leg. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired, but good. I'm hurting, but not too bad. I have a feeling I'm going to regret all this walking in the morning."

"I think you're going to regret a lot more than that," she chuckled. "What time is your flight?"

"Nine."

"Do you have a transport set up for when you get there?"

"Yeah, I hired a cab."

"What, no limo?" She winked.

He laughed. "No. I'm trying not to draw too much attention to myself. Besides, I'm not a huge fan of limos. You know that."

"True." She rested her head on his shoulder. "I'm going to miss you."

"Me, too. I've really enjoyed all this time we've spent together."

"Even when I was yelling at you and making you work?"

He chuckled. "Yes. Even then. I wouldn't be where I am now if it wasn't for you. I really appreciate all you've done for me these past few months."

"Have you heard from Trowa again?"

He shook his head. "No. Last time I talked to him was two months ago." He shrugged. "I guess he's doing well. He and...her." He was still bitter and he didn't bother to hide his distaste. It still hurt. The secrecy, the betrayal. The fact that they had their happily ever after while Quatre was still trying to cope with the grief and his recovery from his catastrophic injuries.

"I'm sorry, sweetie. You'll find someone new. Someone who loves and appreciates you for you."

"I'm honestly not all that interested." He wasn't sure he could do it all again. He didn't think anyone could possibly know him, or connect with him the way Trowa had. He'd thought Trowa was the One. Soulmates. How did you move on from that? Face it, Quat. You might have had a chance to find love again if it wasn't for the accident. Who would want to deal with the needs of a cripple with too much baggage? Sorry, kiddo. You're used goods.

"Maybe not now, but you will be."

"I don't know. I think I'm just going to sign off on love and relationships for good. Besides, who would want to have sex with me now? My body's all battered..."

"You're still healing. And you are a beautiful man. The right person will see past all that."

He sighed and let it go. He wasn't going to convince her otherwise and he really didn't want to dwell on his pathetically lacking love life. "Maybe. Speaking of which. How about you?"

"Oh, you know me. Married to my job. I like being single. I don't want to have to worry about cooking and cleaning for someone, doing their laundry."

He smiled. "The right one will do his own laundry."

She laughed. "That's true." She sat up and cupped his cheek. "Want to head back? You look tired. You need your rest."

"Little late for that now! You should have thought of that when you were dragging me to every bar in town."

"Hey, we had to see you off in style. You know that. Come on." She linked her arm through his and helped steady him as they walked to the curb to flag a cab.

He immediately flopped down onto the couch when he got home, dragging his exhausted legs up over the cushions and laid back with a heavy sigh. "There we go. Much better." His head was spinning a little from the alcohol, but it was a pleasant buzz and he closed his eyes, feeling strangely relaxed. Adila dropped her purse on a chair and opened the windows. He hummed in contentment as the warm breeze brushed across his face. "That feels nice."

"I'll bet California will feel nice. All those warm sea breezes."

"Oh, yeah. I can't wait. The last time I saw the ocean was when..." He trailed off, remembering his last trip with Trowa. It had only been six months ago and Trowa was uncharacteristically romantic in comparison to the previous six months. He'd been very touchy-feely, cuddly, wanting to make love at least twice a day. Quatre had been in heaven, especially since he'd been getting close to what he considered the cold shoulder. He couldn't figure out what was going on and the only thing he'd ever gotten from Trowa was, "Nothing. Just tired."

Of course, it hadn't lasted. Quatre was dismayed when they returned only to have Trowa become distant again. Far away. That had been three months before he left. Three months before Quatre's life had changed in a way he'd never expected.

Adila lifted his legs off the couch, plopped down, and settled his feet into her lap. She tugged off her hijab and glanced over at him. Her hair was almost as blonde as his, close to the color Iria's had been. Between the three of them, they were the only blondes out of the thirty Winner children. "You know...sometimes it helps to talk about it." She lifted his pant leg. "Your ankles are swollen," she said, her expression guilty.

He snorted. "I'm not surprised." He shook his head and stretched. "No, I've talked about him enough with my therapist. I don't want to talk about him tonight."

"Okay. Just so you know, I'm here if you ever need to go off on a rant, or something."

"I know." He smiled and wiggled his socked toes. "Rub my feet."

She rolled her eyes. "What do I look like? Your slave?" But she rubbed them all the same. He sighed as her fingers worked into the puffy skin, massaging away the soreness and fatigue in his muscles.

"Serves you right after dragging me all over the place." He smirked when she glared at him.

"So, have you come up with a name for your shop?"

"I think so." He hesitated, blushing. "Don't laugh."

"I won't laugh."

"Promise me."

She groaned, exasperated, and held up her hand. "I promise not to laugh."

"Okay. I was thinking about...Heartbreak Café." He eyed her sharply, looking for any quirk of her mouth that would indicate she was about to start laughing.

Her eyes rolled to the ceiling as she thought about it, then nodded. "I like it."

"You do?"

"Yeah. It's very...relevant. And kind of catchy. It's a name people will remember."

"That's what I thought, too. Considering it's the main reason I'm doing all this, I wanted something that would always remind me of what happened."

"I think you'll always remember that, but...no, I really like it. I think it's perfect. Have you thought about the fact that you're probably going to be on your feet all day?"

"Yeah. That occurred to me. I think it's something I'll get used to after a while, but I'm just going to have one of those roller stools so I can scoot around behind the counter when my legs give me fits. One of the nice things about Venice Beach is that it doesn't rain all that much. I mean, it does sometimes, but not a lot. That will help when it comes to things like arthritis. I've read in rainy climates, weather fronts can make it hurt more."

"Are you having arthritis already?"

"I don't know if it's arthritis, or just residual aches. But the doctor did say that I was at high risk for it, so it's always a possibility."

"You make sure you keep up those exercises I taught you, too. You need to keep those legs strengthened."

He smiled. "I know. I will keep up on them." He hummed as the throbbing in his legs subsided into a more tolerable burn. "I'm going to be so busy when I get there. There's so much to do."

"I hope you have insurance on the place and all that."

He nodded. "Oh yeah. I've got the insurance and all the legal stuff covered already. But I still need to shop for the equipment, furniture, decorations. I have to go through the whole hiring process. Lots of things to think about and do."

"I think that's good. It'll keep you busy." She leaned over and brushed a hand over his face. "You should get to bed."

"So should you. Don't you have to work tomorrow?"

"Don't I always have to work? Don't remind me. Is it alright if I crash here? I'll just get up early and head back to my place in the morning to get ready."

"Of course. You know you're always welcome here."

"Are you keeping this place?"

"For now. Maybe I'll sell it sometime in the future, but I figured I'd rent it out in the meantime."

"Think you can be a landlord from all the way in California?"

"No. That's why I'm going to hire one." He smiled.

They headed off to bed shortly after. Adila gave him a hug and patted his cheek before she disappeared into the guest room. Quatre walked into his bedroom and quickly changed into an old t-shirt he'd stolen from Trowa years ago. It was big on him, the fabric soft and worn. And it still smelled like his lover... ex-lover. His heart ached as he gazed at the bed, remembering a time when he'd come home to find his love sleeping soundly, his long body curled around Quatre's pillow. He was coping alright, he supposed, but he missed him. The lonely nights were difficult.

He sighed in relief as his bare legs slid against the cool cotton sheets. He looked down at them, examining them closely. It had taken time for him to be able to actually look at them, let alone look at them without feeling a sickening drop in his belly. For the longest time, they'd looked like they'd been caught under an industrial press and then run through a meat grinder. At least now, they didn't look too terrible in comparison. The bruises were finally beginning to fade, but they didn't look the same. They would never look the same again. They were misshapen, crooked, with scars running along the sides where the surgeons had to cut into them to repair the shattered bones.

It was just something he was going to have to learn to live with. He was permanently handicapped, a disabled person. People were always going to gaze at him with pity in their eyes as he limped and wobbled through life with his cane. It was funny how life could change so drastically in the blink of an eye.

He sighed and flipped the covers over his legs, turned off the lamp, and snuggled down into the pillow. He fell asleep quickly and didn't wake until his alarm went off in the morning. He was grateful for the lack of dreams. A lot of them were typically recurrences of his accident, slowed down to reveal every excruciating detail. The other ones were even more nefarious. In those, it was Trowa who was hit by the car and in some of those dreams, he didn't survive. Quatre often woke in a cold sweat, breathing hard until his adrenaline subsided and he realized Trowa was fine and that the worst had already happened.

Not tonight, though. Tonight he slept peacefully and if he did dream, his mind mercifully didn't recall them.

The shuttle ride was grueling. Public shuttles were always cramped due to the limited space and he wound up spending nearly eight hours with his legs curled into himself, the seat in front of him pressing into his knees. By the time they landed, they were numb, the only sensation was the pinprick of invisible needles. The nerve damage he'd suffered wasn't likely to disappear anytime soon. That kind of trauma took years to recover from, if recovery at all was possible.

He had to spend several minutes stretching his legs out before he could even stand up and prayed they wouldn't lock up on him when he did. Once he'd worked some of the feeling back into them, he used the seat in front of him for support as he lifted himself to his feet.

"Sir? Do you need some help?"

Quatre turned to look at the concerned flight attendant and smiled politely. "No. I'm fine. It's just taking me a few minutes to get my legs under me. It was a long flight."

"I understand. Take all the time you need."

"Thank you."

At least people were willing to help him. He didn't like being treated like an invalid, but just ignoring a person in pain was much worse. He reminded himself that he needed to get used to this and swiped his cane, slowly making his way down the aisle.

He still had difficulty navigating stairs and he gripped the railing tightly as he carefully maneuvered himself down to the relative safety of the ground. He tried not to pull away when a gentleman gripped his arm to assist him and forced himself to be gracious, smiling and thanking the man when they reached the bottom.

The terminal was crowded and he had to scan the thick congregation of people before he finally spotted the driver holding the sign with his name on it. He waved his cane and dragged his luggage behind him, huffing with effort. The driver greeted him and took most of the load for him, walking slowly so Quatre could keep up. He gritted his teeth and bore it, already missing Adila's good humor and jokes about his condition. She had a way of making him feel better about it.

He sunk down into the cab, grateful that fiasco was over, and rolled down the window. He closed his eyes and breathed in the sweet, fresh air that only earth could provide. The coast was beautiful, his favorite place on Earth. His eyes hungrily drank in the sight of the ocean as they drove alongside it, enjoying the palm trees and the people who were out and about, getting the most of the beautiful weather. There were walkers, joggers, bikers, people on roller skates and skateboards. Out in the distance, he could see the silhouette of the occasional surfer in the water.

His place was only a twenty minute drive from the shuttle port which was convenient. He couldn't help but smile when they pulled up in front of it. It was beautiful. It was an older building, rich with history as it had once been a disco club in the 1970's, Before Colony. There was also a wraparound deck that was added on some years later that was perfect for the patio tables he planned on putting out there. It was mere feet from the beach and he relished in the fact that he'd be able to look out his window and see and hear the ocean. The sunsets would be absolutely breathtaking.

He tried not to squeal as he scrambled out of the car and hobbled up to the building, digging his keys out of his pocket. He glanced at the driver.

"Could you bring the bags upstairs for me, please? I'd really appreciate it and I'll pay you extra."

"Sure thing, Mr. Winner."

"Thank you so much."

He unlocked the door and stepped inside. It was dusty from years of disuse and a little musty smelling. He was going to have to hire a cleaning crew to get the place all spiffy and shiny. He held the door open for the driver and thanked him again for bringing his bags up, tipping him generously when he came back down. He worked his way slowly up the stairs, eager to check out his apartment.

That was at least clean as he'd had the upper floor prepped already for his arrival. It was small, two bedrooms which was perfect for when Adila came to visit. It had a little galley kitchen with a little window which overlooked the sea.

The best part though was the sliding doors that opened onto the roof of the soon-to-be coffee shop. It was nice and flat, ideal for his own little makeshift patio. A couple of lawn chairs and some suntan lotion. He bounced on his heels, giddy with excitement.

He'd already ordered furniture to furnish the apartment so his sofa and bed and all the amenities were already set up for him. All he had to do was unpack his clothes and toiletries. He opened up all the windows, smiling as the salty air blew into the apartment, billowing the pale green curtains. He could hear the waves of the ocean and he sat down on the couch, closing his eyes and just feeling. Feeling and hearing. He noticed there were voices that carried across the beach, but nothing bothersome. The ocean itself almost completely drowned them out.

He leaned back into the suede cushions and contemplated the strange turn of events his life had taken. Three months ago, he'd gone home after work to discover Trowa was leaving him. Now, he was alone, single, but free of WEI, and living in a tiny apartment on Earth, making plans to open his own coffee shop. He'd had plenty of curve balls in his life, but this was one of the strangest ones that had ever been thrown at him. It was almost surreal.

Pinch me cause I must be dreaming.

He headed down to the beach, but didn't stay too long. It was difficult walking in the sand and he stumbled on already unsteady feet, almost falling a few times. He spent a long time just sitting on his roof, looking out over the sea and took in the sight of the setting sun. It was just as breathtaking as he remembered and he wished so much that Trowa was beside him to share it.

Remember when we used to do this, Trowa? Remember how you used to hold my hand? Remember how you used to kiss me? I don't know what it meant to you, but for me, it was Heaven.

Would he find love again? He didn't know. Wasn't even sure he wanted to go through all that again. Couldn't be sure it was worth all the pain if he was just going to wind up alone.

He went to bed early, tired from the long day. It was a little difficult falling asleep in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar place. But the open window and the sound of rushing waves soothed him and after a little while longer, they lulled him to sleep.

Quatre looked over the job application and then glanced up at the kid who shifted nervously in the chair across from him. He was seventeen, a recent graduate looking for a summer job. He was a scrawny kid whose hair was a shocking dual tone of blue and bright pink and Quatre had a difficult time not staring at it throughout the course of the interview. Get a grip, Quat. Don't you remember being seventeen? Actually, he did. It was only eight years ago, but he'd been a little busy with Mariemaia Khushrenada's takeover of the ESUN and running WEI to have time to experiment with wild hair colors. He looked back down at the application.

"You've never worked in a coffee shop before, Roger Ramirez?"

"No, Sir. But I've worked in the food service industry since I was fourteen. My uncle Salvador owns a dive in Little Mexico. I got my start washing dishes and busing tables for him. Best authentic food from south of the border. All my grandma's homemade recipes."

"You have a rather extensive list of past employment." He glanced back up. "For someone so young."

The kid blushed. "Well, I - like to get my experience in."

Quatre eyed him sharply, knowing exactly what that meant. "You're flighty is what you're saying."

"Er..." Roger scratched his head. "I...guess? But that was more in my past. I couldn't drive and my mom's car was always breaking down and the buses were always late. But my last couple jobs I was there for quite a while. I'm much more committed now and I would love the opportunity to work for you, Mr. Winner."

"Why did you leave your last couple jobs?"

"I had to go back to school and my mom wouldn't let me work during the school year."

Quatre nodded. "I see. Well, I'd like to think I can rely on my employees. Have you had any problems arriving to work on time in the past couple of years?"

"No, Sir. I have a reliable car now so it's no problem. And...not to toot my own horn, but my bosses always liked me because I work hard and I do well with the customers."

"Well, I could use people who are good with the public. I'm not really looking for seasonal workers, but let's see how you do. If you want the job, it's yours."

The kid's face lit up. "Really? Oh, thank you, Mr. Winner! I promise I won't let you down." He vigorously shook Quatre's hand, nearly tipping his chair over in his excitement.

That made five employees now and combined with himself, he managed to work out three rotating shifts of two people which worked out perfectly. He supposed he didn't have to man the counter, but he found he rather enjoyed it. It kept him on his feet and helped him get to know his customers who he loved engaging with.

The grand opening was a big hit with a line that went out the door and down the beach. For that, he had all five of his employees working as he needed all the help he could get. He was under no illusions about the fact that who he was was responsible for the initial success of the shop. The trick was to keep his customers coming back. His name would only go so far. If he wound up serving an inferior product, had a dirty shop, or rude customer service, it would be over as quickly as it had begun.

At the end of the day, he was exhausted, his legs hurting badly, but he was more elated than he could ever remember being in a long time. It was a refreshing break from the impotent hopelessness and frustration of the past year. He'd come a long way, crawling out of the hole of grief and dealing with his newfound handicap and he was proud of his accomplishment.

Not too shabby, Winner. Maybe there's hope for you yet.

He stretched out on his lawn chair on the roof long after it had gotten dark and stared into the abyss of the ocean at night, his eyes picking out the tiny pinpoints of light of a few boats out for a late night cruise. He flipped his phone open and pressed the speed dial for Adila, eager to talk to her after his successful day. It was past eleven, but Adila was a night owl, often showing up for work after only a few hours sleep.

"Well, hey there, little brother!"

"How are you, Addie?"

"I'm doing just fine, hon. Miss you terribly."

"I miss you, too. How's work?"

"Oh, you know. Same shit, different day. Got this dreadful pitch for an advertising campaign. God, what a mess. Children of War is not going to appreciate a dancing dog puppet announcing our foundation's budget cuts."

"The board's cutting funding again? Why didn't you tell me?"

She unleashed a long winded sigh. "Yeah. Donations are down. It was a bad quarter for us. Oh, Quat. You've already given so much. I hate to keep asking you for handouts. It just amazes me how quickly people forget what kids like you went through."

Adila had started the foundation after the first war. Its goal was to help the surviving child soldiers find homes, as many of them were displaced. The foundation also provided hot meals, medical care, psychiatric care, physical and occupational therapies. They had an outstanding scholarship program for the young soldiers to complete their education and helped recent graduates find jobs. Quatre couldn't have been more proud of Adila. She worked hard to give the struggling and oftentimes forgotten kids a chance to survive in this post war world.

"Don't be silly, Addie. I'll send you a check and have Marisa donate some of WEI's proceeds."

"You think you can talk her into that?"

"Oh, I think we can come to an agreement of some sort." As much as it twisted Marisa's knickers, Quatre still held a significant portion of stocks and bonds for the company. It would be a real shame if he decided to invest in WEI's top competitor.

"You are a shrewd one, little brother."

"We have Father to thank for that."

"Well, that might be part of it, but most of it comes from you. You are a natural born leader. Speaking of which, how was the grand opening?"

He sighed and tipped his head back. "Oh, Addie, it was wonderful! We had a long line out the door all day. I'm so tired, but I'm so happy. The customers seemed to enjoy the experience, too, which is what really matters."

"Your happiness matters, too. Your employees working out good then?"

"Yeah, they're great! I've got five now. We get along really well. They worked really hard today. I'm very proud of them."

"What are they like?"

"Well, there's Roger. He's seventeen, just graduated from high school. He's only here for the summer, but...it's funny because one half of his head is blue and the other half is hot pink."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I had to keep telling myself not to stare at it when I interviewed him." He chuckled. "I can't remember ever seeing that hair color on L4. Not even once. Must be an Earth thing."

Adila laughed. "Kids these days. And no, you wouldn't see that here. L4 is too conservative. I think I've seen three people with odd hair colors my whole life."

"So, then there's Maddie. She's twenty two and she's also a musician."

"Like you!"

"Not quite," he snorted. "She's less...classical, more metal, I suppose. She plays guitar and sings in a rock band. She's also covered in tattoos and piercings."

"Good grief, Quat! Where are you finding these people?"

"That's who's coming to apply. Maddie has a lot of experience working in coffee shops. Her references couldn't say enough good things about her. I think she's going to work out great. Apparently she also does gigs at coffee shops and bars and what not. I thought, maybe at some point, I could have live music on certain days and have her play. If the customers would like that."

"You might want to listen to her band first," she pointed out.

He laughed. "That's true. That might help." He really hoped they didn't sound terrible.

"How are you getting around down there?"

"Okay, I guess. I didn't quite factor in the increased gravity which taxes my legs more than on the colony, but I'm doing alright. Hurting now since I've been on my feet all day."

"Oh, honey!"

"It's okay. I'm fine, really."

"What about your rolling stool thing?"

"It's supposed to come on Tuesday. I had to order it."

"Well, make sure you use it when it comes. I don't want you hurting yourself by overdoing it."

"I won't. I promise."

He could hear her wistful sigh through the phone. "I can hear the ocean waves."

"It's wonderful isn't it?"

"I'm so jealous."

"Why don't you move down here with me?"

"Quat, you know I can't do that."

"Am I going to have the same conversation with you that you had with me three months ago?"

She chuckled. "How did I know that was going to bite me in the ass?"

He grinned. "Fair's fair. You can oversee the foundation from here."

"You're tempting me."

"Well, I did it."

"You sure did. I must admit, I never thought you would. You surprised me."

"If it wasn't for the accident, I probably wouldn't have. It changed my whole perspective."

"Maybe I should get hit by a car."

"Don't even joke about that. Either way, I highly do not recommend it. It's not fun."

"I know. I'll never forget watching you struggle. It was painful."

"Hear hear. But I do hope you'll at least consider it."

"I promise I will think about it. Okay? I would really love to do that and I would like to be closer to you in case you need me."

"You're not responsible for me, Addie."

"I am, though. But only because I love you."

He smiled, a surge of warm affection in his chest just knowing someone cared about him. "I love you, too."

He was bone tired so they wrapped up the conversation and he headed back in to get ready for bed. He hoped she would think it over. He didn't like the fact that she felt responsible for him, but he supposed if their positions were reversed, he would feel the same way, so he couldn't hold that against her. It would be nice to have her so close. Maybe she could even help him out at the shop. He chuckled at the mental image of his sister donning an apron and turning out cappuccinos.

He crawled into bed and snuggled down into his pillows, feeling optimistic for the full day ahead tomorrow. Maybe it was the fact that something good finally happened, that despite his exhaustion, his groin began to swell. He watched the tented sheet rise as his cock filled with blood, almost amazed because it was the first solid erection he'd had since the accident and not the half assed kind he'd only had once, or twice.

Well, why the hell not?

He kicked the sheet away and worked his sleep pants off, ignoring his protesting legs. This would be the first time he'd masturbated in over three months and his hand shook as he reached for his cock. He bit his lip as his fingers wrapped around it, blown away by how good it felt. He worked his hand over himself, the pleasure awakening the desire for penetration. He was far too tired and horny to tease himself, the lack of sexual stimulation for so long, he knew it wouldn't take much to come. His chest heaved, heart pounding with arousal as he swiped the bottle of hand lotion off his nightstand and squeezed a generous amount onto his fingers.

He worked one into his opening, hissing at the sting after months of neglect. But his body remembered. It remembered the carnal pleasure of the act of fucking, the thing he craved the most and he spread his thighs wider, pulling his knees into his chest. He whimpered, helpless to the sensations as he pushed another finger inside. His mouth opened in bliss, hips undulating despite the ache in his pelvis as he fucked himself. The tip of his middle finger touched his prostate and his back bowed as ecstasy fired across his every nerve ending. He moaned loudly, not even caring if passersby heard him through his open window, too far gone now in the dizzying pleasure. He gripped his cock with his other hand and tugged on the throbbing flesh, hips thrashing wildly against the mattress.

He tried not to imagine him, but the images, the memories came to his mind's eye unbidden. Visions of the last time he'd had sex with Trowa, looking up into his handsome face as he drove himself between Quatre's thighs. He held that vision in his mind and on the next thrust in, his fingers struck his prostate at just the right angle. His body convulsed, eyes rolling back into his head as he came all over himself, so consumed by his orgasm, he couldn't even make a sound.

He lay sprawled and panting with his sheets tangled around his legs, come cooling on his chest and belly as he gathered his wits about him. He blinked up at the ceiling, trying to clear his sight from the stars in his vision and cursed in amazement at the power of his climax.

Holy shit, but I should wait another three months to do that again.

Don't be an idiot. You know that will never happen.

Quatre shrugged, grinning in contentment as he snuggled down to sleep, looking forward to another successful day tomorrow. Heartbreak Café was destined for success. He just knew it.

~ * ~

Chapter 5

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