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"Puppy Love"Written By: Waterliliylf Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing. All rights
remain with Bandai, Sotsu and associated parties. No profit being
made here. Rating: NC 17 Warnings: sap, angst, fluff, Alternating Trowa/Quatre
POV, AU Pairings: 3x4 get together, Background 1x2, 5x6
Summary: quatre gets a new puppy and has ot take
it to the vet. "Puppy Love"
Chapter 44: 'OK?' Trowa asks, sliding into bed beside me. I blow my nose firmly on the huge wad of tissue he's given me, and attempt to pin on a smile. Then I realise there simply isn't any point. I've already been sobbing on his shoulder; it's just a little bit too late to start worrying about the few shreds of dignity that I may have left. He has been marvellous, not remotely fazed by the fact the way I've been behaving. When I start a feeble apology for all of this, I get a light kiss on the mouth. 'Stop apologising. I told you what I'd do if you kept saying sorry.' One hand gives my bottom a light slap, and then resumes its gentle stroking up my back. 'I'm the one who should be saying that. I said some pretty harsh things, didn't I?' 'I don't blame you.' I sniffle into a tissue. 'I'm going to kill Duo when I get home.' 'Don't do that,' Trowa murmurs. 'I'm sure the condoms will come in useful later.' 'Oh! You mean you still want to - to?' 'Still want to have sex with the hot blond guy who happens to be in bed with me, d'you mean? Oh, God, yeah. I still want that.' The kiss is sweetly, gently insistent. I feel unbelievably cherished, welcome in the warmth of his arms. I feel like I could tell him anything. I don't of course. I could lie here, quite happily, for the rest of my life, with one of Trowa's hands stroking my back. It's a comforting, soothing gesture. I'm not entirely sure when it becomes - something different; when his hands move a little slower, or when his fingers start a little gentle exploration. 'I guess the next question is, do you?' 'I - I don't want you to stop doing that.' I stammer, as his fingers dip just a little deeper. 'That's really good, because I don't either. Let's see, looks like we're going to need this after all.' 'This' is the tube of lubricant, and I think Trowa seems to like this bit. He certainly takes his time applying it. There is a lot of teasing and kissing and not-quite-touching before he actually takes the next step. 'Oh, that feels good,' he gasps, pressing his finger just a little further in. 'Really good. Can you push down a little bit, honey? When I'm pushing in? Ah, that's it,' Trowa bends down to reward me with a kiss. 'Oh, that's perfect. God, you feel incredible. Ready for a little more?' 'Um, I think so.' 'We'll take it really, really slowly.' He withdraws, slowly, very slowly, smiling when my muscles tighten around him. 'Just let me get a little bit more of this.' He squeezes a good dollop of lotion into his palms, rubbing them together. 'I love that you do that.' 'Do what?' 'That you actually warm up the lube before using it.' He just shrugs, like it's not any big deal. 'It makes it easier to relax. Cold just tenses the muscles. How does that feel?' 'Um, stretchy?' 'That is sort of the point,' Trowa deadpans, managing to make me laugh. I never thought that any of this could actually be funny. Or fun, really. 'I'm not hurting you? Good. I tell you what's really amazing; oil that's been heated up a little bit. We'll have to try that next time.' 'There's going to be a next time?' I ask, arching into the first gentle probe of his finger. Fingers this time. 'Oh, lots of next times. Assuming you want to.' 'Do you?' It's hard to frame the question at all coherently, giving the things he is doing to me. 'Trowa, it's so long since I've been with anyone; what if I'm no good?' 'Quatre,' his fingers stop what they were doing, and he shakes his hair back, gazing down at me with both eyes uncovered for once. 'I have you all to myself, naked, in this huge bed. I've been dreaming about this pretty much since I first met you. So you tell me, how the hell can it not possibly be good for me?' Oh. I just want to melt. 'I'm messed up and inexperienced and I'm probably not very responsive and…' 'Not responsive?' He sounds incredulous. 'Winner, I'll damn well show you not responsive!' Nothing he has done so far - nothing that anyone has ever done for me, ever - is even a remote preparation for what happens next. Long, slick fingers stroke my prostrate until I'm ready to scream, to explode, to spontaneously combust. Until there is nothing in my entire world but the place inside me that he is touching. Somewhere, a voice that sounds vaguely like mine is begging for release, and my body is arching up against him, trying desperately to find another point of contact, and then his other hand slips between my legs and I come from the first light stroke of his fingers. This feels incredible. I've never come just from being touched there before. 'There!' He declares smugly. 'Not responsive, my ass.' 'Your ass is pretty responsive, I think,' I say dreamily sliding my arms around his waist and stroking. Simon used to hate me trying to touch him there. Trowa moans satisfactorily and pushes closer against me. 'It is when you do that,' he chuckles. 'So what's next on the agenda? You want to find out just how responsive my ass is?' 'Would you really let me do that to you?' I ask breathlessly, trying to imagine what it would feel like. 'Oh, honey. I wouldn't just let you; I'd beg you.' He slides one hand down his chest and touches his erection. 'But I'm warning you, we've got to do something pretty soon or I'll burst.' I swallow, looking at him. 'Could you …. Could you make love to me first? Please?' It is the biggest gesture of trust I can possibly think of; a tiny apology for having doubted him before. 'Well, since you said 'please', I could probably oblige. Not that I want to or anything.' His mouth is quirked into a grin, his eyes on me are utterly serious. He shifts slightly, so he's lying pressed against me, letting him feel his need for me, rigid against my thigh. 'Hey, you've got nothing to be nervous about. You get to lie there and tell me what to do, and bitch at me if I don't do it just right. I'm the one who has to do all the hard work, and who gets kicked out of the bed if I'm not good enough. That's serious pressure.' 'This is pressure,' I retort, pressing the palm of my hand between his legs, loving the way that makes him moan. 'Oh, I'll show you pressure, Winner,' he growls, reaching for the condoms. I've had one long-term, ultimately disastrous relationship, and a few one night stands. Foreplay has always been a somewhat negligible factor in the equation. A mere means to an end. I've known Trowa for four weeks. Less a day. And it's been one long period of teasing and gathering trust and growing intimacy. Sharing a bed with him is shatteringly familiar and different, all at the same time. I know the little sound his throat makes when he sweeps across my nipples with his tongue; I know the taste of him. I've already felt his erection jolt against mine. But there are still so many things I don't know. The way his breath comes in tiny pants as he gently eases inside me, and the way his mouth swoops down to capture mine. The expression on his face - tenderness, desire, need - when he's finally seated, waiting for me to adjust. The soft play of his fingers on my skin as he starts to move. He is murmuring my name, a slow counterpoint to his body's gathering urgency. It's less gentle now; his fingers are biting into my hips as I buck against him, and his tongue is ravishing my mouth. There are a few seconds, an infinity, where everything is quite simply blurred. And then my world breaks into diamond bright prisms. When things slowly come back into focus, my thoughts are whirling all over the place. I forgot to light any of the candles I'd brought with me. I finally realise what Duo's been talking about. I want to do it again. I have a slight cramp in my left thigh. I can't believe I've waited twenty four years to feel like this. I really want to do this again. Trowa lays me carefully back against the pillows, bending down to nuzzle my cock, then licking and kissing his way up to my neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. 'Now you've branded me,' I say languorously. 'Mmm. Barton, T. Exclusive property of.' Oh, this is wonderful. Quite unbelievably wonderful. Sex with Simon, even at its best, was inevitably followed by showers - separate - and changing of bedlinen. Trowa doesn't seem to care about wet spots or stickiness, or where the condom he removed has landed. 'Isn't it just?' Trowa agrees. I hadn't realised I'd said that aloud. Gosh, I wonder what else I've said to him. The lines between what's happening in reality and what's just in my head are clearly still slightly unclear. 'I take it I passed muster then? Good enough for you to want it again?' 'Oh, yes. Absolutely! Just … not right this minute.' I snuggle down in his arms, wallowing in warmth and closeness and the rich smell of sex. When my eyes drift close, I don't even fight it. It won't hurt to doze for five minutes…. It's almost dark when I finally wake up, apart from the slight glow from the lamp on Trowa's bedside table. 'I fell asleep.' I blink at Trowa uncertainly and he just smiles. 'I can't believe I fell asleep. What time is it?' 'Almost eleven. Don't worry; we both crashed. How are you feeling? Not too sore?' 'Um…' I lick my lips, which are unaccountably dry. 'Not really. Thirsty more than anything.' 'What can I get you?' Trowa asks instantly. 'Water? Tea? Something stronger? I brought a couple of bottles of wine.' 'There's champagne in the 'fridge. The bottle I won at the paint-balling. I know it's really corny, but I thought it would be nice to drink it together. I think it should be cold enough by now.' He grins. 'For you, I'll make the sacrifice of drinking champagne that may not ice-cold. And I wouldn't do that for many people.' 'I appreciate that,' I tell him solemnly. 'I really do.' 'I'm glad to hear it.' His tone is equally serious, belied by the twinkle in his eyes. 'Of course, I do have hopes that you're going to make it up to me.' I pout up at him. 'I might consider it. After I've had a drink and maybe a snack.' 'You,' he tells me severely, 'are getting to be very demanding.' He softens the comment with a sweet kiss, and then slides out of bed. 'Don't you dare fall asleep on me, all right? I haven't finished with you yet.' Oooh. I don't think that I have ever, in all my life, felt this good. I'm not exactly sore, just very conscious of what he did to me. Well, maybe a little sore. I'm still smiling to myself when Trowa comes back up a few minutes later, juggling a bottle, two crystal flutes, a jug of water and a small Tupperware container. 'Your drink, sir. And a small snack.' He winks, setting everything down on his bedside table and pouring us a glass each. 'Getting up early to make desserts for you is becoming a habit. You'd better like this; I was up at five this morning slaving over a hot stove.' 'You made me Tiramisu! Trowa, thank you!' Ignoring the fact that he's holding two brimming glasses, I fling my arms around him, with the inevitable result that there is a certain amount of spillage. 'Clumsy,' he chides gently, bending to lick across my chest. 'Can't waste good champagne now, can we? That would be wrong. Especially considering all the trouble we went to to win it. And this is expensive stuff.' It's actually quite hard to concentrate as he rambles on about boyfriends with bondage fetishes, as his tongue sweeps broad strokes against my skin. Odd, I'm sure there were only a few drops, and I'm sure none of them went there. 'Oh, this is nice,' he decides. 'I - I think you've cleaned up it all now.' 'Mmm. Pity.' He takes a long mouthful from his glass and then leans over to kiss me. 'Oh. That tastes almost as good. Wonder how many other ways we could find to drink this? Let's see.' I catch my breath as his glass tilts deliberately and the cold liquid drips down my skin, followed immediately by the warmth of his tongue. 'Can't waste a drop of this stuff,' he mutters, pushing me back down and licking his way southwards. 'Mmm.' Champagne, or Trowa, or a combination of the two, obviously proves a very effective aphrodisiac. I can't believe I'm almost hard again, and my boyfriend is doing the most magical things with his mouth. 'Quatre, can I ask you something?' He lifts his head for a minute and I wantonly thrust my hips forward. 'D'you like sixty-nining?' 'Um, I don't know.' Ridiculously, I feel myself blush. 'I've just never tried it that way.' 'Would you like to?' He presses a kiss to the very tip of my arousal. 'It can feel really good.' 'OK.' He could suggest anything, anything at all, at this moment, and I would agree. 'Can you just turn this way a little bit? Yeah, like that.' 'Um, which of us starts? And do I copy what you're doing, or just do what I think you'll like or…?' 'There isn't a rule sheet,' he says gently. 'How about we start off with you copying what I do? But, seriously, you know what I like. Feel free to be creative. Just imagine we're playing a duet together if you like. You know the way sometimes it's fun to add a little flourish here and there, or improvise?' Our duet starts off slowly, it's the first time we've played this particular tune in harmony and it doesn't help that Trowa is murmuring jokes about rhythm and the importance of keeping in time, and how flute players have the best knack for blowing but violinists have better fingering techniques. Trowa comes first, reaching his crescendo with a long, drawn-out quaver of my name, and I finish up with a virtuoso solo performance the ends in my calling out his. Duo was right; Trowa is a very good name to scream in the right circumstances. 'Don't fall asleep on me this time,' he warns. 'We need to clean up a little bit.' I nod. 'I do feel a little…sticky. And hungry. Starving actually.' He laughs, handing me a spoonful of tiramisu. 'I forgot all about this, and I had plans for it too. We can save the rest of this for desert. Dinner or shower first?' 'There's a hot tub outside on the deck,' I suggest. 'We could always take our dinner outside and soak and eat at the same time. 'Hot tub sounds nice. Outside…not so good. I'm sort of in favour of us never leaving this bed for the rest of our lives.' 'It's really beautiful outside,' I tell him. 'It's got a view of the sea, and you can hear the waves, and sometimes see falling stars.' 'OK, you've convinced me.' He grins. 'I mean, you convinced the part of me that wasn't already incredibly turned on by the idea of having you in a hot tub with me.' I slant him a coy, little smile. 'Which part would that have been?' That earns me a deep kiss. 'Tell you what; when we get into this tub of yours, I'll give you a practical demo. How's that?' 'I think...I think I'll need to eat something first.' It comes out just a little shaky. 'Well, I suppose you do need to keep your strength up,' Trowa muses. 'We don't want you fainting in the tub at the wrong moment.' 'That...would be bad.' I manage, absurdly proud of myself for getting out four coherent, consecutive words. The thought of being in the tub with Trowa, or what he's undoubtedly planning to do to me, has effectively destroyed my few surviving brain cells. The fact that his tongue is industriously licking me clean, with some little side trips on the way, doesn't help. I've apparently been reduced to pure sensation, and
I just want more of the same. ~ * ~ |
