Pressure of a Blade

Warning: Lemon, anal...blah.
__________________________________

Despite Catherine’s inevitable wrath, Trowa stopped by the lions’ cages before rejoining circus society. It had been a grating journey for his nerves. It was very difficult to find turbulence in space outside of a meteor belt, but the pilot had managed to do so.

There were several times that Trowa almost hijacked the shuttle just for the peace of mind of having a smoother flight and damn the jail time.

He needed to find a grounding point before subjecting himself to his sister’s concern, so his feet took him to the bars of his furry companions. He let his hands run through the rough manes of the males and allowed the females to bump and nuzzle his torso as he entered the cage.

It was past their meal time; there was no reason for them to be tense. He allowed their indifferent curiosity to fill him and take his tension to dissipate among the pride.

He had missed this as well. Others feared the dangerous creatures, and their fear was the very reason they would never be welcome within the ranks of the regal beasts.

After gaining some sort of center, Trowa found Catherine after a brief stop in his trailer to drop off his duffle bag. There were the typical signs of frustration from yelling accusations to tears of confused acceptance and a few awkward hugs with her damp face pressed into his neck which sent a flush of heat through him as he remembered the last time someone had been pressed there.

Life returned to normal quickly after that. He picked up the lions’ feeding schedule from the terrified new guy. That was some sort of initiation for the newbies before Trowa had arrived and apparently had been reinstated in his absence.

Because the “lion tamer” wouldn’t go near them unless he had his whip handy. He was a coward, and the pride knew it. Trowa didn’t like him either, but they rarely crossed paths.

Trowa got back on the low wire. It had been years since he had fallen so much that he had to use the beginner’s wire, but the muscle imbalances and occasional pain spikes caused him to fall enough that climbing the ladder to the high wire would exhaust him, he needed to be able to just hop off and hop back on when his center of balance was off. It took about a week before he could tumble on the low wire and another week to perform his old routine consistently on the high wire.

A few more days of practice and Trowa felt confident enough to try snippets of the new routine, so he flagged down some help to set up the series of high wires needed, but he knew he wasn’t up to adding the trapezes into the mix even with the net.

Trowa kept waiting to hear from Heero, but when it came down to it, neither of them were big vid phone users. Occasionally, his mind would wander to what the other pilots were up to, if they were still at Sanc or if they had split up to go their separate ways.

Eveything in circus life had returned to normal routine, but the pace had sped up. The new season was beginning in the next few weeks, and manager had become more demanding of the acts. Every act was required to update the routine at least every other season to keep audiences coming back. If the performers were incapable of doing so, the act was cut.

Trowa never had a problem with this; he was constantly striving to compete with himself. His wire routines changed every season, and his new act was already approved. He just hoped he could re-master it before the new season tour started.

The day had started out completely screwed.

The previous evening, the lion tamer had been attacked by one of the females. It was not a life threatening wound; it wouldn’t even affect him permanently. The lioness had taken a swipe at him and left a series of gouges across his left forearm. He was a fool. He had been trying to incorporate one of the new cubs into a new routine, and the mother was not amused. He was lucky he didn’t lose his life.

After receiving some medical attention, the lion tamer walked out.

Trowa couldn’t care less about his departure that evening, but this morning, he learned about the possible sale of all the lions. Without a lion tamer, there is no need for lions.

Caring for wild animals is very expensive.

And all of a sudden, Trowa’s day turned very bad. It was hard to focus on the wire when he was somewhat depressed about losing one of his few sources of strength and serenity.

Along with the personal feeling of loss, his injury still plagued him occasionally, and his timing still needed adjustments. The new season traveling tour started so soon. So Trowa did what he always did when faced with difficulties; he kicked his own ass.

He brought out the trapezes and the timing devices. He threw his hardest tricks on the wire; he forced himself to do the new routine over and over. He fell, he climbed the ladder, and he did it all over again. There were times that his balance was off, but sheer demand of will forced him to stay up there. His body finally rebelled towards dinner time, so he stepped off the wire, rolled over the edge of the net, and began the walk to his trailer. Sweat was rolling down his body, his shirt carried in one hand, letting the slight breeze cool him.

There is a breezeway set up between one of the smaller practice tents and one of the few solid structure temporary buildings. The temp building is easily broken down for transport, but it has to be solid because it houses the show animals’ food. The different varieties of chow can attract strays and local creatures onto the grounds at night unless blocked by solid walls.

Trowa was walking through this breezeway as the shortest path to his trailer, when hands grabbed him from behind and swung him to face the building, one hand gripping his arm behind his back.

Normally, this would pose little problem due to Trowa’s quick reflexes and flexibility; he could get out of this position easy enough with a bit of wriggle room. But he was tired, his muscles fatigued and his strength sapped, so, though he tried to oppose the position, the strength of his attacker won out.

And he was forced face first against the solid wall, one arm wrangled up behind his back, crushed between his spine and Heero’s body pressed tight to his. Trowa knew who had grabbed him the moment his mind caught up with his reactions. That didn’t mean he was going to go down without a fight, but Heero had timed his attack perfectly, and Trowa was essentially defenseless after pushing himself so hard all day.

Heero’s mouth was at Trowa’s ear. “Miss me?”

Tired though he was, the acrobat felt a rush of adrenaline flush his system. “Is there a wrong answer?” He smirked with anticipation.

The steel grip on Trowa’s arm tightened slightly, an unregistered reaction. “Yes.”

“Then no.” Trowa couldn’t help letting some of his amusement slip into his voice, knowing Heero fell into his verbal trap perfectly, knowing Heero would be somewhat frustrated at being such an easy target.

Heero growled slightly at the beginning of his next sentence. “You should watch yourself, you’re already in trouble with me.” His words were fierce, but his body melded into Trowa’s back, his free hand beginning to roam the performer’s hip and up his side to his ribs. The former Preventer dropped his mouth to Trowa’s neck, letting lips graze the damp skin.

“Oh?” Trowa shifted, pushing back into Heero’s hold, surrendering to his captor.

Heero let go and stepped back, leaving Trowa off-balance and confused at the quick transition, until he heard approaching footsteps. The two started walking toward the trailer as soon as Trowa picked up the shirt he had dropped to free his hands during the attack. Heero pulled a duffle bag out from the shadows, and they walked in silence.

As soon as the door closed, Trowa’s back hit it, Heero pressed up against the front of his body. Their mouths collided, hot and hungry for each other. It had been too long for both, though neither of them acknowledged the need until face to face.

Heero pulled his mouth away, gasping for breath. “You owe me.”

Trowa’s mind immediately went to the promise of “next time.” Heero’s aggressive behavior, dominating him, his vulnerable state. Heat flared through his body, pinpricks of flame traveled up his spine, wrapped around his neck, and curled across his scalp, and he wanted Heero.

He wanted that incredible strength to crush him into the wall as Heero took him. He wanted to be overpowered, overwhelmed, utterly taken. Trowa groaned aloud and wrapped his legs around Heero’s waist.

Trowa heard the low rumble of Heero’s laugh, felt it echoing through both of their chests. “There’s that, too, but was referring to something else.”

“What?” Trowa gasped and let his head fall backwards, banging against the trailer door as Heero’s mouth licked and bit at the skin of his neck.

His tongue rasped across the salty skin, sucking it into his mouth. “Next time you give me a hickey, tell me, don’t let me find out when Maxwell points it out to everyone in the room at breakfast.”

Trowa couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out of his throat at the images the statement brought to mind, but a sharp nip above his collar bone cut off his laughter.

“Not funny.” Heero growled.

As he continued to chuckle, Trowa responded. “Pretty funny.”

Heero sealed that laughing smile with his lips, pressing the long limbed acrobat into the door, shifting the mood back where he wanted it. He had been observing Trowa practice for over an hour, watching the flexibility and agility of his new lover, watching the determination and talent, watching the sweat roll down that amazing body, wanting to taste that skin, waiting for the opportune time to move in.

And now that he had him… Heero pulled back, pulled his shirt over his head, and dove back into Trowa’s embrace. “Bedroom?”

Trowa shook his head before leaning forward, catching Heero’s ear between his teeth. “Here’s good.” His long fingers went to his zipper freeing himself, then shifting his weight to free Heero. The Wing pilot groaned as both shafts were pressed together in Trowa’s hand, pumping slowly.

Heero’s hands gripped Trowa’s ass, slowly traveling up to the loosened band. “I want these gone.”

Trowa dropped one leg then the other to bring both limbs underneath him. He kicked off his shoes, and pulled his pants and underwear off, watching intently as Heero did the same. “Stay here.”

The Heavyarms pilot walked, nude, into the bedroom, grabbed the lube and came back. Green eyes tracking Heero’s gaze, the focus on his bobbing cock as he walked. Trowa wasn’t sure whether to feel somewhat self-conscious or damn proud of that intense gaze, so he ignored those thoughts and handed the tube to Heero before wrapping his arms back around that tight body and kissing him.

Feeling that much bare skin pressed to his, made that unbelievable heat bear down on him, disorienting, but when Trowa lifted his legs to wrap around his waist again, Heero was forced to compensate for the added weight or fall. His hands gripped Trowa’s ass and the lubrication, but he felt his body spasm and his knees threaten to buckle when Trowa rocked his groin against Heero’s.

Heero stumbled the few steps to press Trowa against the door. The performer arched his back, pressing their bodies tight together wanting to feel the pressure of Heero’s weight against his body. Heero used the support of the wall to free his hand for opening the tube and squeezing the gel onto his fingers then handed the lube to Trowa.

A few teasing passes across Trowa’s entrance, then solid pressure parted the tight muscle. Trowa gasped and pushed backwards into the invading hand as his slicked palm began coating Heero’s cock.

Trowa felt the burn of being stretched too quickly, too many fingers with too little time to adjust, but it sent a renewed shock of heat through him. It was just another reminder of how completely he was being dominated, how powerful his counterpart was, and how secure he felt as he let go.

“Now, Heero, please.” He urged.

“Too soon.” He grunted as he continued pumping his fingers in and out. “It’ll hurt.”

“I want the burn.” Trowa’s hand gripped Heero’s shaft, rolling his fingers across the sensitive flesh, rocking his palm against the head.

Heero complied, bringing his hands to Trowa’s butt and lifting to line him up with his length. Trowa’s hand held him steady while Heero lowered that tight ass onto his cock.

The burn of penetration seared Trowa’s skin and released a sublime rush of adrenaline through his limbs. It was as if time slowed down, and he lived in the pleasure of Heero’s perfect body splitting his own in half for hours as he swallowed the length. Then Heero pulled out and slammed back in, and time restarted with a spike of ecstasy driven up his spine with the force of Heero’s thrust.

“Gonna be quick, been hard too long.” Heero panted.

Trowa was grinding into Heero’s thrusts almost involuntarily, no conscious control over the movement, driven by the heat, wanting more, needing more. Heero’s hands gripped Trowa’s hips, pulling them into his thrusts, adding force. His body leaned into Trowa’s chest, pinning him to the metal door.

Feeling the pressure of Heero’s length against his inner walls, the pressure of Heero’s body pushing him into the wall behind him, the power of that body almost robbing him of the ability to breathe, struggling to draw air in, Heero gripping his painfully hard cock, all amassed into a white wash of pleasure that coated him inside and out as he succumbed to his climax.

Trowa came back to himself lying on the cold floor staring into blue eyes.

“Miss me?” Heero repeated his earlier question, smirking.

“Yes.” Trowa answered, his voice still soft, still regaining his breath.

“Good.”

The acrobat pulled himself to his feet, unsteady. He used his clothing clean up a little before changing into a pair of loose shorts. “You hungry?”

“Sure.”

As Trowa threw something together in the kitchen, Heero put his clothes away in the bedroom. Dinner was a silent affair, neither feeling awkward with the quiet. After dinner, the two sat down in the main area, Trowa resting his overworked body as Heero summed up the last few weeks worth of Preventer actions.

Trowa relaxed, listening to the deep sound of Heero’s voice, feeling uncharacteristically serene. It wasn’t until he felt the couch dip beneath him and felt Heero’s breath against his face that he realized he fell asleep.

“You should take a shower and head to bed.” Heero’s voice was quiet but echoed through the room.

Glancing at the clock, Trowa shook his head, blinking his eyes to clear them. “Its too early to sleep. I’d feel like I was eighty.”

“If your entire day was anything like the hour I watched, you need the sleep.”

Trowa glared, feeling the need to defend himself. “It was necessary.”

Heero reached out, wrapping his arms around the performer, nudging him until he leaned against the Wing pilot’s strong chest. “Rough day?”

Trowa sighed, letting himself seep into Heero’s strength. “Just disappointing.” An impossible, but appealing idea struck him. “Have you given any thought as to what you intend to do now that you’re no longer a Preventer?”

Heero wanted to know what had been so disappointing that Trowa had felt the need to throw himself so completely into his act earlier, but he answered the question. “A little, I didn’t know how you felt about me working for the circus. If that’s not an option, it would have to be a computer based job, so I could travel with you, maybe programming.”

“So, you wouldn’t mind working for the circus?” Trowa’s mind latched onto some slim hope.

“No, but I don’t know what I could do; I don’t do well with crowds.”

“Strong hands are always needed to build and break down the tents during traveling season, and you’ve got skills with knots.” Trowa stalled.

“I’ll help wherever needed.” Heero drew out his words, sensing something more coming.

“Heero, how do you feel about lions?” Trowa hedged around the actual question, knowing Heero would know what he was asking. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Heero as he asked such an important question to him.

“I know little about lion taming, and I’m not a performer, but I assume you’re asking for a reason.” There was tension in the arms that held Trowa.

“Manager will sell them if there’s no act. I would do it, but I can’t pull two acts per show.” Trowa waited uncomfortably.

“You’d have to teach me.” He sounded uncomfortable with it, but Trowa couldn’t help feeling overwhelmingly relieved.

“Of course, and you might not even be needed. If you were working on an act, it could be a stall method until we found someone else.” Trowa turned in those arms.

“Either way.” Heero smiled, seeing how important this was to Trowa, he knew he would do whatever it took to keep the lions in the show, even if it meant donning the costume himself. Though the thought of threatening the old tamer back into working here was much more appealing. “I better warn you, though, I look terrible in sequins.”

Trowa blinked, unbelieving. He struggled to suppress a smile as he responded. “You know this from personal experience?” He couldn’t contain the laughter after his words, the deep tones echoing through his chest.

Heero smiled, listening to a sound he could get very used to. “Relena.”

Stopping abruptly, green eyes just stared. Trowa had thought Heero joking, but then the truth of what was said settled on him. “Bitch.”

Neither could hold back after Trowa’s comment. They both shared a good laugh, settling the tension that plagued the beginning of the conversation.

Mischief filled Trowa as a parallel thought ran through his head. The last time he heard so much laughter, it had been at Maxwell’s expense. “Hey, Heero, how hard a time did Duo give you about the hickey?” It still brought a smirk to his face thinking about it.

Heero closed his eyes, hiding the roll. “By the end of the week, Chang was joining in, too.”

Trowa raised his brows. “That bad, huh?”

Heero nodded.

“Do you have access to Sanc palace security footage?”

Heero looked at him, brow furrowed, then nodded.

Trowa smirked. “There’s a time stamp I think you might find amusing.” Heero just watched him, waiting, so he continued. “Duo wanted help gaining some flexibility.”

Heero raised an eyebrow, but Trowa refused to give more. He yawned and stood. “A shower and bed sounds really good.” Half-smile still painting his lips, Trowa walked out of the room, leaving Heero to boot up the computer and hack his way into the security set up he created for Sanc grounds.

The next evening Chang Wufei received an email with an attachment labeled as a Sanc security clip from Heero regarding the establishment of a biennial pilot gathering, the first of which Wufei offered to host within the next few months. The email was as follows:

Wufei,

Thank you for the invitation. We will be there. Have the others confirmed?

Heero and Trowa

P.S. Enjoy the show…


THE END

_____________________

Taadaa. Done! I hope ya’ll enjoyed it. I enjoyed writing most of it, although the lemon juice got kinda sticky at times.

I’m so sorry for the extended absence. I did NOT intend to be gone so long. If yer interested, I updated my author page to explain why. Oh, I’m also going to be answering reviews on the author page as well. So if you reviewed the last chapter of Merc, Pressure, or reviewed Becoming Whole and you wanna know my thoughts on your words, check it out.

I’m working on another one shot…I’m trying to see if I can do a “believable” PWP with these two…it might work, who knows.

Tons of love to my readers, twice the love for my reviewers, until next time! Peace.