Pressure of a Blade

Warning: another (slightly less graphic) lime and SAP.

AN: I always hated those fics that made Trowa and/or Heero into a complete romantic sap. I tried to avoid it while still portraying that no matter how hard Trowa's tried to fight it, there is much more emotion there than he's willing to admit, even to himself...I hope it worked without causing the readers to go into sugar-induced vomiting.
______________________________________

It was strange and somewhat surreal, just lying there face to face with Heero. Trowa was taller than Heero, so they’d never had this sort of interaction. It was intimate, slightly uncomfortable, but good. Trowa watched as Heero fought off sleep’s pull.

His hair was disheveled and falling over his face at odd angles. He had a lazy smirk across his lips. His eyes would open only to be dragged closed, and as the acrobat watched, his own body fighting off the same lethargy, he felt content.

There was a serenity that filled him as he watched over the drowsy Wing pilot, an inner peace he felt only when he was in space surrounded by nothing but stars. It was a feeling he strove to replicate by performing gravity-defying acrobatics; he felt a rush of wind that would wrap around him and cradle him in air. He loved flying because it mirrored the feeling flying through space gave him.

But he wasn’t flying in space or flipping in the air; he was lying in a bed on earth. His heartbeat was slow, like it was pumping thick honey through his blood vessels, and his eyes were attracted to Heero’s face like loadstone to iron.

He knew what Heero looked like, but he couldn’t pull his eyes away, memorizing every crease and worry line that had been smoothed in this peaceful place. Dark brows, usually furrowed with concentration, were relaxed and rounded. His lips, jawline, his lashes, his nose, his hairline, every aspect of his face drew Trowa’s attention, and every one brought new discovery about the structures he was studying.

Like the tiny freckle on the left side of Heero’s bottom lip. It looked like a shadow, a trick of light, but there was a small sunspot clear as day now that Trowa was looking.

Or the fact that Heero had very long lashes, if he wore glasses, those lashes would catch on the lens. They fanned across his cheek like a delicate, raven’s wing. To think anything on the hardened pilot’s body could be described as ‘delicate’ is ridiculous, but that’s the description that struck Trowa.

Their skin tones were so different, both colored by the sun, but Heero’s heritage caused his skin to bronze like a golden sculpture. Trowa’s linage meant sunlight browned his olive complexion; though his time on the colonies had taken some of the deep browns he used to wear when stationed on earth, he was darker than most spacers.

That was the last thought he remembered before darkness overtook his vision, and he drowsed into sleep’s embrace.

As the room lightened with dawn’s first rays squeezing through the small gaps in the decorative curtains, Trowa was drifting in that place between dreams and waking, when something against his thigh brushed across his awareness.

Moisture at his hip bone brought him to full attention; it didn’t take much to figure out what was happening, despite his slowed mental state in the morning.

“You said turnabout is fair play.” Heero’s voice was rough and thick with sleep, muffled from the sheet he was hiding underneath.

“So I did.” Trowa gasped as Heero’s mouth left a burning trail from his hip to his groin, passing his growing erection to tongue his balls.

“You were wearing shorts when I went to sleep.” There was a smile hidden in his voice.

“The wet spot started getting cold.” Trowa’s voice trembled as the hot moisture of Heero’s breath passed over his shaft.

“Can’t have that.” His lips were against the flesh of his groin as he spoke, and Trowa felt the vibrations of sound echo up his body and reverberate across his consciousness like a strummed guitar string.

There was a fight going on inside Trowa. Physically, the rhythm Heero was starting to build, his hands against his thighs and sac, his mouth everywhere, were overwhelming and he wanted nothing more than to let Heero have his way with his groin.

Mentally, Trowa was still battling with his control issues. To lie back and let another elicit spasms, moans, and other evidences of a complete loss of control, to allow Heero access to him without restriction…It was a complete surrender, and Trowa was having some difficulties with it.

But it would have to be done. Trowa knew he would need to let slip his need for control; there was no choice if he wanted to remain with Heero. He wanted to keep that feeling of serenity he had experienced before falling asleep. Plus, Heero was apparently very talented at evoking pleasure.

And he trusted Heero.

So he fought back the need to grip Heero’s head and control the rhythm, he refused to thrust his hips deeper into that mouth. He handed everything over to the Wing pilot, gripping the sheets underneath him tight enough to rip through the expensive material.

It didn’t take long for Heero to push him over the edge, his head digging into the pillow behind him, his legs tensing to the point of cramping, the edges of his vision clouding, and pleasure pouring into him from Heero’s mouth and sifting out of every pore of his body.

Damn. Maybe control was overrated.

Then that mouth was on his, demanding, kissing him fiercely, and Trowa tasted the bitter remnants of his cum on Heero’s tongue. One of those deadly hands gripped his and pulled Trowa’s long fingers to his unsatisfied cock.

And control returned to the acrobat with Heero kneeling above him straddling his waist, and completely passive to Trowa’s touch on his stiff flesh.

Unacceptable. Control would always be important to Trowa, but, right now, in this place, he wanted to destroy his absolute need for control. He had loosened his restraints some by lying still during fellatio, but he was afraid that small incident would not be enough to keep the need at bay in the future.

He would not lose Heero now that he finally allowed himself to have him.

Trowa released the shaft he held, and wrapped both hands around, in between Heero’s legs and up onto his ass, pulling his body forward and encouraging him to kneel walk up the length of his body.

Sitting up slightly, Trowa sucked the head of Heero’s cock into his mouth. Heero gripped the ornate headboard for balance as he watched pink lips slide off his length.

Complete surrender, total vulnerability.

Trowa’s head fell back down to the pillow, looking up into blue eyes. “Fuck my mouth, Heero.” His breathing was rapid, and his hands kept pulling Heero’s hips forward. His hands were in no position to protect himself if needed.

“What?” He registered the request, but it was far from what he expected to hear from the Heavyarms pilot.

But Trowa would not be denied; this was not something he could do halfway. He trusted Heero; he would surrender now so that he would be able to do so again in the future. “Now.”

Heero groaned with the combination of Trowa’s order and what he was about to do. His grip stayed firm on the headboard, but let his knees slide backward just the smallest bit on the bed for a better angle.

He felt Trowa’s fingers tighten on his ass as he brought his erection to those lips, and pushed into his mouth. Heero built a slow, fluid rhythm with his hips, rocking in and out of that glorious mouth, feeling Trowa’s suction with every retreat, feeling the resistance of those lips with every advance.

Blue eyes watched his cock disappear and reappear into Trowa’s mouth. It was so erotic, feeling his knees pressing into the bed with every rock of his hips, feeling his ass and thighs burn with the movements, feeling the heat and pressure on such a sensitive area, watching every inch of his flesh disappear into that mouth and throat, and seeing those green eyes rolling backwards with lust.

All this while Trowa fought to remain passive. He curled his tongue and maintained suction against Heero's shaft, but otherwise...Heero was completely in charge. It was sexy, to let him dominate him so thoroughly, but, at the same time, Trowa was shaking with the need to roll over and take advantage of the pleasure Heero was drowning in.

Then Trowa raked his nails down his ass and thighs, and Heero lost it. There was no gradual build up of tension, no ‘I’m almost there moment.’ His climax took him suddenly and violently, jerking his body and thrusting his hips, gasping for air.

And Trowa choked down the unexpected rush of fluid, waiting until Heero’s body movements calmed before he guided those hips to sit on the pillow beside his head.

Heero’s body leaned back against the headboard, breathing still elevated from his release. “Good morning.”

Trowa just smirked, nothing outwardly expressing the war that had raged within him just moments prior. It was still difficult to hand over his control to some one else, he imagined it always would be, but it would get easier. And he trusted Heero with his life, how much harder could it be to trust him with his body? It was an easy concept when thinking through it, but the tension that had run through him when he had woken up to Heero lying between his legs…

But it was easier now, Heero had passed some sort of test of trust just then.

Turning his head, Trowa noted the time. “Breakfast in twenty.” He dragged himself out of the bed and headed to the shower to wash.

Heero showered after him, and they headed down to the dining room to break their fast. Maxwell and Chang were there, but despite the braided pilot’s presence, breakfast was a fairly quiet ordeal. The Preventers were talking about the cleanup, and Duo kept smirking at Trowa, but otherwise, the meal was uneventful.

Lunch was held later than usual to allow for the arrival of Quatre, Relena, and her entourage. That was an uncomfortable ordeal, sitting there in silence avoiding the Winner heir’s attempts to draw a conversation out of him, ignoring Peacecraft’s attempts at demure eye contact with Heero. He was actually very grateful to Duo for keeping the conversations light and fairly amusing.

The next week went by fairly quickly. Heero and Wufei were in and out of the palace, being shuttled off to various battle sites to oversee Preventer protocol.

Relena had quite a bit of press conferences and PR stunts to pull to explain the recent violence and calm the masses.

Trowa spent his time in the library with Maxwell, working on his ideas to counteract the stealth technology in the events that it is replicated in the future. They worked well together, and Trowa was eventually forced to admit that he didn’t mind the talkative pilot’s presence.

It was springtime in Sanc; still a bit of winter’s chill in the mornings, but beautiful weather in the afternoons.

As Trowa’s hip healed, he began to spend time outside attempting to land some of the easier and less demanding acrobatic skills he had acquired over the years. The well-kept lawns had soft grass that wouldn’t hurt too badly if he busted his ass. And Duo was present for these attempts, too.

Damn babysitters.

But it wasn’t too bad. Trowa actually gave in and tried to teach Duo some of the skills. It was amusing, and Quatre even started showing up to watch the braid fly with failed attempts. In all fairness, though, Duo was very agile, so he caught on eventually, but the first few attempts were always fun to watch.

Trowa got more comfortable spending time with Duo and Quatre, and he began to regret not spending more time with the pilots in the past. That is until Maxwell became tired of learning acrobatics…

And started asking Trowa how to become as flexible as the circus performer. The lewd, sexual comments of how much Heero should appreciate a partner as limber as Trowa caused said flexible pilot to sweep one of Duo’s feet out from underneath him resulting in as near a split as Maxwell was capable of.

Trowa smirked and walked away with the sounds of Duo pleading for Quatre to help him out of the position and Quatre laughing hysterically ringing in his ears.

And as he walked away, Trowa realized he was enjoying himself in the presence of others for the first time in as long as he could remember.
_____________________________________

Blah Blah. This chapter wasn't "planned" the material just presented itself while I was writing. Unfortunately, that happens a lot. Soooo, I'm not entirely sure how I feel about this chapter...I hope ya'll like it more than me.

ALSO: A plea for help! I'm not really familiar with Aff.net, so if I wanted to write a lemon in the next chapter with contained an anal scene, I would need to include that warning in the summary, but when I try to edit the summary...the warnings don't show up to be edited. How do I add warnings without having to delete and reload the entire story as a new story? What am I doing wrong? Grr.

Until next time.