auditorium shores

Thank you ... three people (SariL2, Candy, and Hikari Rioki)
For your reviews, I give you a lemon, as promised
This lemon is for those ... three people (thank you)

Soooo, you know the drill with lemons. NC-17. So, if it\'s illegal for you to see this stuff, don\'t read it.
If you don\'t care about legality, that\'s your own business.

I use the word \"spouse\" between Trowa and Quatre because I wanted to establish a definite monogamous relationship between them. \"Lover\" sounds a little cheesy to me. It\'s everywhere, and it\'s always reminded me of adulterous relationships, rather than just two people in a serious relationship. And, \"partner\" also sounds a little too promiscuous for me....so...I chose \"spouse.\" I know that it normally applies to married couples...so...I suppose, you could assume between Trowa and Quatre, it is the marriage of two minds (thank you, Shakespeare)

This is the first lemon that I\'ve ever written. If you have criticisms, please be gentle (and reasonable). If your critique is harsh (...or would embarrass me...), I\'d appreciate you to e-mail it to me than to post it on a public forum. Then, I\'ll make an effort to correct whatever it is you have a problem with (if it\'s a reasonable concern).

If I\'ve used any technical names for body parts, blame it on my anatomy class. I wanted to call everything by its unromantic textbook name, then realized that it wouldn\'t be very interesting ;>_> or understandable

Thanks for reading.


Part II (with the lemon)

Getting back home was a bitch. The traffic had the majority of the downtown area at a virtual standstill.
Trowa was ever grateful for the liberation of his country; but, at present, he was more keen on the idea of liberating Quatre from his clothing, at least before he fell completely into the clutches of sleep.

In the passenger side of the car, Quatre had slumped over so that his head rested on the window, and in the loose embrace of his arms, he held the bouquet Trowa had given him earlier. His eyes weren\'t closed completely (yet), but their electric blue glow had begun to wane in the face of sleep, a warning sign that Trowa recognized immediately and took to heart.

Trowa really didn\'t want Quatre to fall asleep. If he fell asleep, then that would mean that Trowa wouldn\'t have the heart to wake him later (though he\'d be no less turned on than he already was).

Watching Quatre play the violin, for Trowa, could probably be considered the equivalent of the effect harlequin novels have on housewives (x10). Whether Quatre was playing any instrument in jeans or in a tux, Trowa\'s internal reaction was always the same: admiration and nearly uncontrollable lust.

At present, Quatre was in a three-piece black tailor-fitted suit, sophisticated and disheveled. In the slit of his left lapel, a deep blood-red rose was pinned. It was of such a stark contrast to the brightness of his skin and hair that it seemed nothing short of supernatural to have those colors in the same place at one time.

\"I liked the performance,\" Trowa piped up at seeing Quatre\'s lashes flutter.

Quatre smiled, \"You told me that right after I got off stage.\"

Trowa plumbed his battery of mushy lines for a suitable response.

\"I just want to make sure that every chance I get, that I tell you how much I love you, and how amazing I think you are...\" He held his breath for Quatre\'s response.

Quatre stifled a yawn, \"That was really cheesy.\"

Before Trowa could look too defeated, Quatre added, \"But, I\'ll award you brownie points, anyway.\"

Trowa smiled to himself.

++

When they finally arrived home, carnal pleasures fell a few spots on their list of priorities.

Quatre stumbled slowly into the kitchen in search of something caffeinated while Trowa let Schroe outside and greeted the felines that hadn\'t followed his spouse (Titus and Hermoine were Quatre-loyal).

\"I\'m going to shower,\" Quatre informed Trowa from in front of the fridge.

Trowa made a vague noise of acknowledgement.

++

Thirty minutes later, Quatre followed his intuitive judgement to the kitchen where Trowa was busy working on the previous Sunday edition\'s crossword puzzle.

As quietly as a doe on soft earth, Quatre stepped carefully behind Trowa and embraced him from behind. First, his hands rested briefly on Trowa\'s warm stone shoulders, then as he lowered his head to rest it in the crook of his love\'s neck, his hands slid along Trowa\'s clavicle before stopping on the opposite shoulders. Right hand to left elbow, left hand to right elbow, and his face against Trowa\'s body enjoying the pleasant feeling and the unique smell; Quatre was at peace.

Trowa set down his pencil and leaned back turning his face so that he could see Quatre\'s. From the corner of his eye, he spotted a few of their pets watching them, Schroe was a few feet away sprawled out on the hardwood and wagging his bushy tail.

\"Bedroom,\" he whispered against Quatre\'s cheek.

Quatre nodded and kissed him before releasing him.

++

It was a better image than he\'d previously imagined, Trowa thought as he followed Quatre into their bedroom.

Quatre was wearing one of his thrift shirts, knit thin enough that Trowa could see the outline of his body through the material and the black boxers hugging low on his hips.

Once the door to their room clicked closed Trowa pulled Quatre close to himself, one hand between his shoulder blades and the other, in the same frame of time, trailed down to his posterior. As was his nature, Quatre\'s response was shy (though he\'d been expecting it), a very tiny, almost imperceptible noise issued forth from the back of his throat. He didn\'t like to be loud, but there was always (when he was aroused) a static lump that formed in the back of his throat that plucked at the vocal chords in his larynx, forcing out quiet cries (and sometimes [to Trowa\'s extreme delight] near-screams). Violin is to Quatre as Quatre is to Trowa.

Trowa feathered kisses all over Quatre\'s face before finally stealing his lips. Automatically, Quatre\'s lips parted and Trowa (naturally) took advantage of it pressing his tongue past pliant lips into the warm cavern beyond. He never tired of the sensation of Quatre\'s smooth teeth, soft flesh, and velvet tongue against his own; nor of Quatre\'s arms snaking around his shoulders and body pressed flush against his own.

When they parted, they took a moment to regard each other.

It was still a mystery to them how completely different they looked to each other after the first kiss.
Quatre\'s cheeks dusted with a light blush, his lips pinkened to an exquisite rose, and his eyes seemed to brighten as if they could conduct lightning. That look sometimes filled Trowa with an overwhelming desperation, that Quatre might suddenly disappear right before his eyes like a ghost, a figment of his imagination.

Trowa\'s spirit flared up and projected from his body when he was stimulated; it took the definitive shape of a cat, a predator. His gaze grew more piercing, his features sharpened by the shadow of lust. It was when Trowa was like this that Quatre felt most acutely that he\'d been designed and made only for him.
Trowa kissed Quatre and used his leverage to guide him to the bed.

They parted, Quatre in repose on the cream-colored blankets, and Trowa discarding his t-shirt and jeans. Then, he crawled over Quatre, hands roaming where they pleased. He took his time, nibbling at Quatre\'s ear lobes and running his fingers between the fabric of his spouse\'s shirt and skin, delving into every shallow dip, familliar territory.

The sounds issuing forth from Quatre\'s flush lips were quiet but tinged with a note of urgency, noises that Trowa loved.

Trowa began to kiss down, down Quatre\'s jaw, down the column of his throat that thrashed under the gentle pressure of questing lips, down into the hollow of his clavicle, down to his chest. The shirt was impatiently unbuttoned and pushed to either side so that Trowa had a clear view of Quatre\'s pale chest and rosy nipples. The skin around the little peaks was a light creamy brown while the peaks themselves, engorged with blood and sensitive to the touch, were a subdued pink.

Trowa ran his index finger over the tip of one, and watched Quatre\'s mouth open to let out a shuddering sigh.

The beginnings of a smile pricked the edges of Trowa\'s lips.

At times, he likened Quatre to a piano, touch the right spot and a tiny metaphorical hammer would strike his vocal chords.

He messed around with Quatre\'s chest a while.

\"Kat,\" Trowa whispered into the fragile space between them.

A small smile lit Quatre\'s features in his reply, an equally quiet utterance, \"Trowa.\"

Trowa dipped down for a kiss, one of his hands wandering to the edge of Quatre\'s boxers. He slid a finger under the elastic, the sensation making Quatre\'s stomach shy away from his touch. Quatre pressed his thighs together, making removing his boxers a chore. It was always a challenge to get them off. Even after all the times that Trowa had seen him without a stitch of anything on, it was still embarrassing.

\"Stop squirming, Squirmy,\" Trowa whispered into the shell of Quatre\'s ear, more amused than he was annoyed.

With a great deal of effort, Quatre unclentched his legs and buried his face in his hands as he felt his undergarment slip past his feet.

Trowa pressed a soothing kiss to Quatre\'s forehead, \"You look very lovely.\"

\"Don\'t say that,\" Quatre spoke against his jawline.

\"So. very. lovely,\" Trowa murmured defiantly into Quatre\'s smooth skin as he crept down low, snatching a tube of lubricant from the nighstand somewhere along the way.

\"Now...just think happy thoughts,\" Trowa breathed over the head of Quatre\'s penis, at the same time reaching between his legs with the uncapped lubricant. He felt Quatre tense up a moment beneath him, which tended to happen when Trowa was about to take him into his mouth. Quatre had told him a few times that he didn\'t like the idea of it, but, then again, he never complained about the sensation.

Quatre was a little bit of a prude, but that was part of the appeal.

Trowa took him into his mouth, simultaneously prodding a slick finger past the tight ring of muscle of Quatre\'s anus.

It was always interesting to him, the texture of Quatre\'s insides. The smooth muscle beyond the sphincter was very soft, but reluctant to admit the intrusion of Trowa\'s fingers.

Quatre\'s bottom was so unbelievably tight the first time that he and Trowa had engaged in sexual intercourse, that they\'d both harbored serious doubts as to whether it was physically possible for Trowa to fit inside. Luckily, for him, he did, and had every time since.

Trowa relaxed Quatre\'s orfice as much as it was going to give. He was a little reluctant to stop his minstrations on Quatre\'s front, especially since aforementioned person\'s fingers were wound so wonderfully in his hair. He couldn\'t place the time that they\'d crept down to lock with his locks, but he coud say with great assuredness that he liked it.

After a moment or two more lingering where he was, listening to the breathy moans fall from Quatre\'s lips, Trowa raised himself up, spread lubricant on his erection, and hooked Quatre\'s legs over his arms.

\"Are you ready?\" he asked, watching Quatre\'s face carefully.

Quatre\'s eyes regarded him through a of of lust, and he nodded, \"Yeah.\"

Trowa nodded back to show that he\'d heard and freed an arm so that he could better align himself with Quatre\'s opening. With a bit of effort and clentched teeth, Trowa rested the tip inside Quatre and re-hooked his leg, then slowly pushed the rest of the way inside. It was warm, moist, soft, and incredibly snug.
Trowa paused a moment inside of Quatre to regain his bearings and hold himself back from either A) cumming instantly or B) pounding into Quatre like an animal (and possibly hurting him).

Quatre also needed some time to adjust. Every time, for thest fst few seconds, he felt like he was being pushed well-beyond his limits as far as tab-A barely fits into slot-B was concerned. He held his breath to focus on acclimating himself to his present position. A few stress tears squeezed out of the corners of his eyes. Then, he exhaled and blinked the remaining moisture from his lashes.

\"You can move now,\" he whispered hoarsely. He raised his hips minutely to prove his point.

\"C-cut that out,\" Trowa studdered.

He began very slowly, just rolling his hips to allow both him and Quatre to adjust more.

The discomfort subsided, replaced by a warm pleasureable fullness. Quatre started to rock back against Trowa, testing his patience. Small moans rode on his shivering breaths, reaching Trowa\'s ears and encouraging him to move faster.

Steadily, Trowa added speed and strength to his exploration of Quatre\'s insides, the friction lancing up through him in firey jolts. He leaned further forward, taking Quatre\'s knees with him, thereby raising Quatre\'s bottom for easier access and allowing Trowa to take advantage of his leverage and body weight.
Quatre\'s legs began to tremble and his teeth to chatter. His hands found their way to Trowa\'s back, trying to gain purchase as his body grew increasingly unsteady. His nails drew shallow red lines over Trowa\'s shoulder blades, his fingers curling with each of Trowa\'s body-jarring thrusts. Against his will, his voice rose up out of his throat in barely restrained cries.

Trowa could feel Quatre\'s body tense up under his. Quatre was close, and so was he. His pace became frantic, and Quatre\'s thin arms clamped down on him tighter.

Trowa leaned down for a kiss (albiet, a sloppy one), his tongue clashing desperately with Quatre\'s in the need to further weild their bodies together.SuddSuddenly, Quatre pulled away, turning his face to the side. He cried loudly through clentched teeth as his body drew taut and he came, his body wracked with convulsions, uncontrollable wild jerks.
The channel around Trowa\'s erection became exponentially tighter, and he came with a shout burying his face into Quatre\'s shoulder.

He was completely spent and taking deep shuddering breaths by the time he managed enough willpower to disengage himself from the confines of Quatre\'s body.

He scooted over to Quatre\'s side and laid down next to him so that he could see his face.
tre tre was still blinking a few errant tears out of his eyes, but otherwise seemed alright.

Trowa ran his fingers comfortingly through Quatre\'s dampened hair. He carefully brushed runaway platinum strands behind Quatre\'s ears, smiling a little as he did so.

\"You\'re not hurt?\" he asked (just to make sure).

Quatre dried his eyes with his edge of the blanket and shook his head, \"I\'m fine.\"
He left it at that.

Quatre didn\'t like to discuss sery ery much. As long as within the next five minutes he told Trowa that he loved him, everything would be fine.

Quatre rested his head on Trowa\'s chest enjoying the feeling of its steadying rise and fall and Trowa\'s fingers in his hair. It was his favorite spot, anywhere on Trowa was his favorite spot as long as it could serve as a headrest. He threw and arm around Trowa\'s midsection, though the stickiness of their skin wasn\'t very comfortable, he still found it to be a suitable gesture given his feelings.

In the meantime, Trowa was counting down the minutes and seconds to when Quatre would say his most important line.

Quatre\'s eyes had begun to close before he mumbled, mostly asleep:

\"I love you, Trowa.\"

END