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"Not Yeti"Written By: Kaeru Shisho Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Gundam Wing
or its characters, nor do I make any monetary profit off this story. Rating: R Warnings: AU, male/male pairings Pairings: 3x6 Summary: It doesn't look like base camp and the occupant is tall, pale, and formidable! What kind of muddle has Trowa Barton walked into in this frozen wasteland? A/N: Created for Waterlily on her birthday. Best
wishes for many more! "Not Yeti"
Frigid air blasted the door open and tiny spiraling snowflake vortices followed in the wake of the tall man coming in from the cold and stomping the snow from his insulated boots. He wiped at his iced eyelashes, while drawing a deep breath of the heated air, restoring warmth to his freezing core. Trowa had only just preceded this man minutes earlier, entering the small building, an outpost at the southernmost pole of the earth, and could recall how wonderful the warmth felt after leaving the deadly grip of cold. He stepped up, grasping the ice-man by the elbow preventing his fall and taking the heavy bag of what he estimated to be near-priceless instruments and camera gear toted by the scientists. The tall man shook out his mane of platinum hair and lashed out at the stranger with a well-aimed elbow. "Who the hell are you? What are you doing here?" Trowa stepped out of reach and blocked the blow, not letting the confrontation turn into a fight, but showing enough force to demonstrate that he was no pushover either. His green-eyed, mildly surprised, but unwavering gaze matched that of the ice man's broken-glass edged, steely glare that promised death in seconds if he didn't like the answers. It wasn't that Trowa blamed him; he didn't like surprises either, but, still, being marooned in this wasteland of ice surely would make anyone glad to see a friendly face? "You weren't expecting me?" Trowa asked. The Iceman scowled down at him. "No," he said curtly, continuing to stare, waiting for an answer or formal introduction. Well. It wasn't the welcome Trowa had expected, but bad weather and exhaustion can to that to a man, he presumed, so he tried a professional sounding introduction and non-combative stance. "Trowa Barton. I'm the assistant you wired for from the main station." "I didn't wire for help," The taller man retorted as he tore off the fur-lined gloves then worked at the lapped seals on his parka. Hmmm, communication problems. That explained the lack of cordiality. The snow went flying as the man moved. The nearly all-white fur lining of the parka plus the thigh-length almost-white hair painted an image in Trowa's mind of a giant of mythical proportions- Bigfoot... or the Yeti. But that wasn't possible. Wasn't one of those from the North American continent and the other... was that around Nepal? So, not the Yeti. Regardless, the Abominable Snowman in the flesh was staring at him, and from the rising intensity of angry body language, patience was not one of his virtues. "Then there IS a Bigfoot with fine motor skills and a way with words," Trowa said, testing out a small, wispy, dry-ice smile. "A comedian. I see. I should get the locks checked." There were none. Unnecessary out in the wilderness with nothing but the howling wind and a scattering of humans. "The door was open. I walked in," Trowa said, patting down his pockets in search of his cell phone. "I have the message that was sent. I can show you. I was contacted... here, on my phone..." But he couldn't. His phone remained dark and withdrawn and powerless. "Batteries don't do well in the cold," the tall blond said, calming down as he warmed up-a see-saw of comfort. "Well, since you're here," the man piled his parka and gloves into Trowa's arms, "make yourself useful." "As a coat rack?" Trowa shook his head. "It's a waste of my talents, but whatever you want." Zechs paused in the removal of his boots. "What are your talents, if I may be so bold as to ask? And ask I must- even though it does seem that I should know since it appears I wired for your services- however, I believe the facts will attest to the fact that I did no such thing." Ah, the great void of the vast white space. How long would it take before he, too, would begin rambling in rants, Trowa wondered? More importantly, where was everyone? At this point, he had expected to see a few more of the science station's personal. Although, it was possible that this man killed them, judging by how unpleasant he was, or they chose to escape into the bleak, frigid landscape and freeze just to get away from him. "I operate the ice core sampling equipment, among other things. The message said you required a backup. Where is the rest of the crew?" The tall man had peeled down to a turtleneck sweater and wool slacks, probably with more layers under that. But even discounting the layers, he filled out the clothes very nicely. Very well-built for your average scientist. Actually, the man was far too handsome to be out here all alone under any conditions. "Ha!" the man laughed, looking even hotter with a smile. "What crew? I'm on a survival mission, you know, a test of my endurance. Man alone against the elements, and all that." "Ummm... So, you really didn't wire me?" "As I contested earlier." "You're not...?" he ran through the possible names that he remembered made up the station crew. The man looked Scandinavian, so the names "Chang" and "Yuy" were unlikely. "Mr. Maxwell... or Winner?" "Oh, God, no, not those geeks. My name is Zechs Merquise, adventurer at large. Your GPS needs fixing. That station is miles over that way," the Adonis in wool gestured with a flick of his hand. Obviously the man wasn't joking. Trowa couldn't believe it. How had he made a mistake like that? Well, he hadn't. Somebody had messed with the location coordinates, which he would prove as soon as he could make it turn on again. "The batteries..." "Dead? As I said. Oh, don't look so disappointed. We would never have met otherwise." He wasn't sure, but Trowa had the creeping feeling that his situation had grown dicier now that the stranger was warming up, feeling balanced and in charge on his home territory. Time to ramp up the good manners, depart as graciously as possible, and, if push came to shove, take his chances with a bolt for the door. "I apologize for... the intrusion," Trowa muttered, looking around for his things. "I'll just be a moment longer... then I'll go-" "I don't believe you'll be going out anytime today, not unless you are insanely stupid, and even then, not until the blizzard has passed. Didn't your weather forecaster warn you about that?" Trowa wished he'd been forewarned of this man. He didn't think of himself as a weakling by any standards, but this "adventurer" was a head taller and outweighed him and looked able to fight off Bigfoot, a Yeti, and an entire herd of whatever else lived nearby, including the pod of researchers he was supposed to have met up with. Still, he wasn't without resources. He could defend himself if it came to that. He didn't need to kowtow to anyone, especially to this...this... really fine looking man. "I knew about it. I got here before it hit, didn't I? I didn't expect to have to go back out-" Trowa attempted again to wake up his GPS device to check the coordinates. "Well, it's not working now." Naturally. "It's no wonder. It wasn't working properly before, was it? Besides, the storm knocks out everything electrical, including the locks. Why, anyone could walk in." He chuckled into his hand at his own joke. He made an attempt to clean up the wet floor with a couple dirty towels. Trowa used the time to gather together his backpack, duffle, and outerwear. Giving the soggy towels a kick to the side signaled the end of his host's cleaning. "There now. Relax. We should get to know one another better, now that you'll be staying. What did you say your name is?" My what? He stopped his actions, leaving his hands on the grip with the guns. He could just see the hilt of the knife hidden in a slot at the side of his boot. What a change in attitude! Precipitously fast, he thought. Cagey? Shifty? Maybe he should evaluate the angry stranger's behavior, now that he was making nice? Trowa became wary of the man's every twitch. "Trowa," he said, keeping the note of despair out of his voice by coughing. "Unusual name. Tro-wa. Trois. Almost French. You're not French, are you?" "No. Well, I don't think so. I don't really know my family or background." His fingers flexed, brushing the bag, and noting the boot was just out of reach, but only a quick lunge away. He ardently wished his artillery was closer at hand and not leaning casually in its bag against the wall of the room. "Well, Trowa, I need to stir up this fire." The man's smile was totally disarming and his body-language was completely non-threatening as he moved to the fireside. "Don't tell anyone, but I had firewood airlifted in. There isn't a bloody stick for miles around." Trowa had to laugh at that. "Not in Antarctica, no. Didn't your research into this place tell you that before you came here? As a survivalist, shouldn't you have been better informed?" Zechs slouched onto a pile of pillows scattered near the generous fireplace. "Oh, I suppose I could have done more to prepare for this, but it was all a last minute thing. A run from... trouble, of sorts. Nothing serious. In any case, when the storm clears you can send a message to your... fellow scientists. Let them know you are all right." "Thanks." Trowa settled into a group of cushions. The room was small but cozy, with plenty of warm throws and a small kitchenette a few steps away. It looked larger from the outside. Maybe the man had an office? Then he wondered what the nature of this "trouble" was? Maybe it was a room for dismembering strangers lured in by his false signals? He snorted at his own crazy imaginings. It was more likely that this man had money to throw around. Not just anyone could acquire a setup like this on a sudden whim. "You didn't pack this in on your back, I take it?" Trowa asked. "No, I did not. God, no! Helicopter dropped everything over a period of a few days. Setting up was a trick, but all in all it's been comfortable." "Not really a survivalist excursion." "It's not?" Zechs appeared surprised then smiled. "It is for me. I'm more of a well-provisioned lodge in the forest man. I hunt, and there is nothing out there, not even the promised seals and penguins." "You shoot penguins?!" "Photographs. Don't look so wounded. Amateur stuff really, but I like the challenge of a new place. The low temperatures are brutal on the equipment though; if there were any living creatures to take pictures of I might be more disappointed." Trowa knew something about both the problems of subzero temperatures on equipment (more now that his electronics were out of action) and the scarcity of life. "There's algae in the ice. At least there was in the first core samples collected. I'll be going deeper than that, though, looking for dust in the layers, like from volcanic action." "I wish you good luck with that. Algae. God, where doesn't that grow?" Zechs leaned back. "What I could use is a bear or moose- or a good steak. Actually, would you like that for dinner?" "A moose? There aren't any here." "No, not a moose. Were you even listening to me? A steak. I have that with a nice Bordeaux I picked out of a tasting five years ago- put up a few cases. This is the last of it, I'm afraid, but I think this occasion requires something with body, good legs... depth, don't you?" Umm... The tone of voice like honey over velvet and the soft smile there at the end turned a menu discussion to a new course of action. "Are you talking about wine?" Trowa asked. It sure sounded like seduction 101. "Could be. Maybe something better. You aren't bothered that I like men..." there was a long pause, clearly for the purpose of adding drama, "... fucking them..." Well, that was direct. Trowa had a better than average filter to separate truth from fiction; an especially keen eye for the lie. That's not to say misperceptions hadn't been made in his past with complete confidence. However. This was no bullshit. He was sure. Pretty sure. Sure enough. "...are you?" Zechs finished with an up-tone-so he was asking a question, but Trowa had lost continuity. Was he interested? "Yes." He was into sex with men. Was he bothered by it? "No." Not when he was part of the action. Yes and no? What was he thinking? "I could be talked into something." Well, that was smooth. No wonder he hadn't a real boyfriend since college. As clumsy as he sounded, though, he figured Zechs would get that he meant he was agreeing to sex. With a stranger. A very hot one. "Excellent. Come sit by me. Warm me up." Why resist? Trowa shook out the lust-bunnies taking up residence in his head. Resist him because you owe your life to not acting rashly! "I don't even know you. You don't know me," he said on the verge of whining. But the protest sounded weak even to him, and the smarmy smile Zechs wore said, oh for Gods'sakes. "We can get to know one another and generate some heat." Make the best of an opportunity-words to live by in his experience. Besides, how well had he known Todd? Or Adam? Or Ramon? Ah, Ramon, or was it Raymond? How picky was he? Now he sounded like a man slut. This man, at least, had an income, a considerable one to afford this setup. Trowa gave up the fight and let his handsome host pull him over and wrap him in his long arms, encasing him in wool sweater. He inhaled Zechs' scent, burying his face in his massive amounts of corn-silk hair, and eased his arm underneath Zechs' head. Warm lips pressed up against his, beginning a spine-tingling celebration throughout his entire body-yes! He enthusiastically returned the kiss, opening his lips to the intrusive tongue. When a hand slipped under his turtleneck, he shivered at the light touch, squirming until he had to sit up and yank the knit top off completely. "Oh, that's much better," Zechs said. "How do you keep so fit? Maybe I ought to try my hand at ice-core work?" The hungry stare devouring his bare chest and neck, fired up his blood, his skin prickling from the blush that started from the top of his head and quickly spread down to below the belt. Trowa had to adjust his pants, which drew the laser beam gaze there. "It's not from taking core samples," Trowa said, not trusting his voice to give out. It was raspy already. "A workout on the trapeze when I visit my sister. She's with a ... sir... sir... circus." He did manage to spit out that final word while Zechs swirled a moist tongue down his belly and around his bellybutton. He closed his eyes as Zechs' tongue ran back up, over his neck, and then tickling around the edges of his lips. "God you are beautiful." At least the words sounded like that when mumbled into his flesh as he pulled him into another brain numbing kiss. Trowa's self-control flagged under attack from those strong lusty hands moving down his sides, silvery blue eyes flickering eagerly over his face, hunger in his eyes. Those hands felt cool and strong as they traced the tendons in his neck. The other sweater had to go. Where it rubbed against his bare skin itched, and Zechs seemed pleased to have his assistance removing it and the silk t-shirt underneath. Trowa had a good understanding of social interactions like this, of the chemistry occurring in his body producing pleasant sensations in his mind. He felt happiness flood his mind as a warm hand slid under his waistband and between his legs. His resistance was slight to the suggestion that he remove the rest of his clothing. And then he helped the other man in the removal of his. They cooperated well together on this united mission. The warm, well-practiced hand found his erection and with a fluid twist of his body, he had Zechs' hardness within sucking range and his own rubbing the other man's nose. It really was artfully done. Came from acrobatic exercise. "Showoff," Zechs chuckled. "See if you can keep your focus." Trowa knew a challenge when he heard one, and started pleasuring the other man while he had the advantage. Soon, though, the feel of slickness and jolting pleasure with every caress and thrust received and given was intoxicating, sending his head spinning when the melting sensation hit his middle. God it was nice! And then... darkness... "Are you all right?" came the sound of a voice near at hand and posed in a languid tone, The caress over the edge of his ear that followed the question shouldn't have surprised him as much as it did. He must have blanked out. It was kind of erotic. Trowa forced his eyes to open and found that he'd been rotated around again so he was face to face with the handsome-faced man. "Yeah." As much as he wanted to express more about how good he felt, that was all he managed to verbalize. It would have to satisfy. "Good. The blizzard's just getting started. I'd hate to wear you out so soon." Zechs smiled. "Maybe you're in need of nourishment?" "Yeah. You mentioned steak earlier?" Trowa asked. Now that the flush of sex had passed, he was more than a little embarrassed if he'd really passed out from just that encounter and certainly didn't want to explore the issue. Zechs laughed aloud. "Yes, I did. Help me up and we can get dinner ready together." With what Trowa had learned about the man, he expected to find an aggressively modern camp kitchen. No sign that he bothered to really cook. Just reheat frozen dinners. But his workspace and culinary skills were several grades better: broiling steaks, baking potatoes, and sautéing green beans with mushrooms. He suddenly felt ravenous. The food was delicious. He licked his plate clean before handing it off to Zechs to toss into the sink with a "later." After the meat-heavy and wine-rich meal, they returned to the pillow and blanket nest in front of the fire for more fun and games, but which soon devolved into Zechs peacefully reading a book of poetry aloud until Trowa dosed off. He may have woken once or twice; Trowa wasn't sure if he dreamed it or not. The storm surged on outside, wind howling, the building shaking. Or it might have been more extreme sex with the other man. Hard to tell what he'd heard until there was a sound more guttural and from a human source. It might have issued from a dream or from his own throat. "Trowa, time to wake up. Trowa? Hey, sleepyhead, we need to get up. It's nearly midday. The storm's over and I think we have guests at the door." He felt Zechs jiggle his shoulder and all Trowa could dredge up was a sleepy grunt and a pout. Zechs continued to prod, fuzzing Trowa's hair into a ridiculous poof and even poking him in the nose until Trowa finally got one disgruntled hazel-green eye open and glared blearily at him. "Have some coffee." After a couple sips, Trowa's awareness level rose to discern a change in sounds outside. "Storm's over?" "The blizzard, yes." "What's that noise?" Trowa asked, yawned, the result of too much red wine the night before. Trowa yawned again, scuffing a hand over his hair until it was even more of a tangled mess around his head but at least the bangs weren't standing up. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Trowa finally seemed to realize he was being observed and he flushed, staring down at the bed and wrinkling the sheets with his toes. It was getting him nowhere. He looked up until he met up with the pair of amused, grey eyes studying him. "What?" "Just drinking you in," Zechs said smiling and then his look turned wistful. "I know I'll wish I'd simply tied you to this spot." "What do you mean by that?" Trowa's concern for his well-being vamped up, bringing him to sudden full wakefulness. Was this man going to hold him hostage or throw him to what sounded like a family of polar bears banging at the door? "I mean, I'm going to have to let them in before they break something I can't fix, like the structural integrity of this building, but that I wish I could enjoy this peaceful time alone with you a little longer first." He really was going to feed him to the wolves! Bears! The spawn of Yeti and all their elders! "Cover yourself or this will get far more embarrassing very fast." Not a sacrificial moment then? "So you know who is out there?" Trowa guessed. And Zechs rewarded him a brisk nod. "And so will you." Trowa reached for his underwear and pants and hopped into them. As he buttoned up a shirt, he kept his eyes on Zechs who was un-battening down the hatches. Two mounds of winter outerwear burst into the building, dusting the floor with drifts of fine snow. "Fuck, that took a while," one man said. Taking off his wool cap revealed a length of braided hair uncoiling like a snake to his knees. "You didn't do much of the shoveling," objected the man by his side. "There's no one here but Peacecraft." Peacecraft? Trowa grasped that detail and hung on. That was the company underwriting the research. Peacecraft. And since it wasn't his name, then it had to be that his host was connected to that family. His concentration was broken when two more young men clamored inside, the last leaning his shoulder into the door to close it. He turned to scan the room and Trowa felt his dark eyes land and stick to him. The door-closer was Asian, Trowa decided. "Yes there is," the doorman snapped. "He's standing right here. Yuy, do you need your eyes checked?" "No, Chang, they have always been blue," Yuy answered and smirked, seemly pleased with his little joke. He removed his wool cap and raked his fingers through his coarse hair making it stick out in all directions. Trowa identified two of the men from the other outpost, whom he'd expected to meet: Chang, the Asian "door man", and Yuy, the "snow shoveler" with the messy dark hair. That meant, Trowa deduced, the other two visitors were most likely to be Winner and Maxwell. Trowa stepped into Yuy's line of sight and folded his arms to hide the steak knife in his grip. "See? He's not alone, as I predicted," Chang said, smugly. "If I may-" Zechs started to say. "- Hey, boss man! You should thank us for clearing your door!" the man with the braid said to Zechs, pointing at the first two comrades, another joining them, and then ending in a broad gesture which included himself. The fourth and final visitor, a pretty-faced blond, smiled as he removed his hat and gloves. Extending a hand toward Trowa he said, "Hello! I'm Quatre Raberba Winner and you must be Trowa Barton, our ice core sample specialist. We're relieved to see you are here. I'm so sorry about the mix-up-" "Will you all shut up?!" Zechs barked. The braided man pantomimed the zipping-shut of his lips. Trowa concluded that this must be Duo Maxwell, the last remaining name of the team members-that he was aware of. "I told you to Shut. Up," Zechs snarled. Duo's grin widened as if to say, "I still haven't said anything." "And I heard everything you didn't say," Zechs growled back at him. And in the silence that ensued, all eyes drifted to Trowa. Interested, friendly, predatory, arrogant. He didn't need to be an ice geologist to figure out that these clowns sent him to Zechs' place on purpose. What purpose, he didn't know exactly, but from the looks of things, it had all worked out as they'd hoped. Getting their "odd-man-out boss" a bedmate had been part of it, he surmised from the existence of four young men that seemed to pair off into semi-defensive positions. Maxwell with Yuy. Chang with Winner. That much was becoming clearer by the minute. Trowa felt the flush start at the top of his head and begin to spread down, his face hot. And this reaction made more dramatic since his face was disciplined to reveal only appropriate emotions, eyes wary, mouth well-shaped held firm. He looked rumpled, felt scruffy and off his game. A quick glance at his host told a different story. Zechs was expensively dressed in careful casualness. The tallest man present, well-built with his sleek pale hair floating over his shoulders and down his back past his waist, which with his dramatic stance gave him the appearance of a male model posed for a camera shoot or a nobleman posing for a portrait painting. His close-fitting black trousers looked immaculate. His camel jacket cut perfectly. His soft white shirt shimmered in silk, worn open at the neck with a delicate blue scarf draped in effortless polished sophistication. His features furrowed in curbed anger. "Uh...I...uh..." Trowa had not thought his face could grow any hotter, but it was doing its damnedest. "Arrived at these coordinates yesterday, before the storm hit." Two of the young men were chattering together both looked pissed, but not as pissed as Zechs. One of them, doorman Chang, huffed at his braided coworker. "I refuse to comply and serve as a myrmidon." "A ... merman?" Duo asked, confusion written all over his face. The pretty blond translated. "Duo, he means he's not your brainless follower who executes orders without question." Duo with the mile long braid, had been looking over the room with wide-eyed wonder, leading Trowa to suspect he at least hadn't been inside the building before. Their eyes met and Duo stepped back and looked over the newcomer, apology in his eyes. "It wasn't all my idea. Really. And we did need an expert ice-core reader after Lucy's ... exodus." "Lucy-?" Trowa wondered aloud. "It isn't at all important," Zechs said, interrupting Trowa's question. But it was important as Trowa found out when Quatre elaborated. "Dr. Lucrezia Noin," the pretty blond said. Trowa couldn't believe it! "You had THE Dr. Lucrezia Noin here... there... working for you?" She was famous in the field. How could they think he'd fill her infamous shoes? Unless... At this point Zechs shifted from his pose. "This is why I wanted you all to shut up. Go. Just go." He pushed loose outerwear back into the hands of the invaders, who cooperated mostly. As he realized what his role was in this farce, Trowa's mood darkened and the pain grew in the pit of his tightening stomach. Why else had he been called in, unless he was here to fill Zechs' personal needs-a sex toy that didn't include female attributes?! "It was nice to meet you! Come visit us soon," the blond cried out. "We really do need your help!" "Door! Out!" "Yeah," Duo of the braid shouted over his shoulder, "don't be a stranger! Those ice cores don't study themselves!" "OUT!" Trowa wanted "out" too. His eyes were on his things, torn between staying put and following the others out the door. "Let me explain." Zechs stood between him and the egress to the cold, cruel world outside. Trowa swept his arm between them, pointing that out. "Do I have a choice?" "Certainly, you do. You always have a choice. You're not my prisoner." Was he not? If he didn't move soon, he would be choosing to remain. "I know it's sudden," Zechs said, pitching his voice low and velvety. "But I feel something special between us." Trowa had felt it too. That was part of the problem. He'd fallen so hard and fast for this stranger and hadn't looked hard enough at the setup aspects of the situation. A flush crept up his neck and merged with the rosiness already in place. He breathed. "You aren't on a solitary endurance test out here." "Correct." Zechs stepped closer. "What my students did was wrong. I should explain... Yes, I'm the professor in charge of the research project and those...well-meaning idiots my graduate slaves, er... students. Dr. Noin and I had a falling out. Frankly, she had ulterior motives not aligned with mine." "She loves you?" Trowa asked. Zechs' hung his head; his silky pale hair brushed against his cheek and he scowled to hide a blush. "She pursued me until I enlightened her as to my sexual preferences, then she left." "Why did that drive you out to here?" "Oh, I'd been planning to move into my own...abode... for some time. Living with four charming young men under my charge was... distracting." "I'll bet. So, I was hired to replace Dr. Noin," Trowa concluded, leaving out the other less admirable intentions, like hooking up the professor in charge with a new distraction. "You were at the top of the list, based on your accomplishments." Trowa looked up sharply. Zechs flashed him a smile meant to be reassuring, he assumed. "I'm sure." Trowa grunted, less sure of his highly esteemed status. "I left it up to the team to find Noin's replacement as my 'home' was delivered at that time. I do remember approving their choice, but settling in here was a priority at the time... I ..." "You forgot I'd been hired?" Trowa shook his head. What an airhead! "I suppose that's one way of putting it," Zechs said ruefully as he leaned heavily on his shoulder. "I apologize." Of course he did; the man was doing everything right now. Trowa stared at where he had placed his pale-skinned hand upon him, the long shapely fingers wrapped around his tanned wrist. "Stay, please." "Am I going to regret this?" Trowa asked. He needed the work and had to admit the other man was charming and very sexy. And the way he looked at him! The intense stare softened instantly and naked desire filled his eyes. Trowa groaned, knowing he wasn't strong enough to resist. "I don't know. I hope not." Zechs smiled. "What does your heart say?" Trowa wished to avoid thinking about that. "The others noticed." "Of course they did! A man looks at the one he's decided upon a certain way and it only deepens after they've become lovers. It's the way I look at you," he whispered, blushing. It was the blush, a sign of uncertainty in the man that tipped the scales for Trowa. All his barriers collapsed. He only had so much willpower. Now, all he could do was nod once. "Come on," Zechs grunted, gripping his wrist, his other hand holding him tightly around his trim waist. "Let's make the best of the last of our weekend." That's right! He would have to begin work soon! With a push, Zechs launched him toward their "nest". "Hey, don't get rough with me," he snapped. "You may change your mind," Zechs said softly, pressing his mouth to his. Trowa actually squeaked, but he kissed him back just the same. Then, he felt hands in his shirt, fondling his favorite places as Zechs' tongue drew lines up and down his neck. Trowa moaned and writhed against him, feeling hands running down his back to grip his rear. Panting, he reached down and undid his pants, leaving Zechs struggling with his own clothes. He uttered a great sigh as the taller man pushed into him, and soon they were entangled with abandon. He moaned and clutched at the cushions behind him, knocking several books to the ground. "I should have put the poetry away last night," he heard Zechs mutter, voice muffled by his own torso, being worshiped by a warm, wet tongue. "Umm," Trowa moaned, his head was thrown back in ecstasy. He hadn't noticed a thing, he was sure of it, and then he let out a grunt as he tumbled over his limit. He continued until the other man was sated, then embraced him with all his might, losing himself in the scent and feel of him. They rested in the warm nest for quite some time, clinging to one another, and then Zechs sighed and kissed him on the end of the nose. "Help me research," he said softly. "Not Yeti. I have one more vacation day owed me." Trowa smiled, and kissed him back, done for. The End.
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