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Trowa Lin	By : Maureen Category: Gundam Wing/AC > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 524 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing/AC, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Trowa Lin
- 2-2
- 3-3
- 4-4
- 5-5
- 6-6
- 4
- 5
- 6
Trowa Lin 5

Rating:
Filthy, I mean NC-17

Are
you under 17?

If
so, go away now. I mean it. If you are underage, and you continue to read this,
I'm going to come over to your house and hold you down while your mother spanks
your little heinie red!

Oh,
you'd like that? Scratch that threat, then.

Author's
Note: There's going to be a certain place in here where you're going to
say "Now, is that seriously humanly possible?" And Maureen's going to
tell you - yep! I've seen it done - don't ask, cause I'm not about to tell!
Also, in defense of a lemon at this point, go back to the first section of the
fic and follow the link that'll lead you to the original ballad - you'll find
I'm following the storyline...

"Y-
yes" Quatre stuttered.

"Why?"

"I
had never seen such an usual color before, and I was trying to get closer look
when I tripped over you."

"What
do you mean about the color?"

"It's
silver." Trowa was staring at him with what Quatre perceived to be doubt,
so the blonde retrieved the rose and knelt by his side again. "I know it's
hard to believe, but see, it's all silvery and almost sparkly. It's impossible.
It's beautiful.

"Yes,
it is." Trowa whispered, looking oddly at Quatre, before saying in a normal
tone of voice. "Just be glad you can't see all of them like that, you'd
likely go blind or mad."

"Like
what?"

"Without
my Lady's glamour to cover them, of course. My cell dances with a thousand
lights and amazing sights best unseen by human eyes. I wonder by what right your
eyes see the truth in that one flower."

"Wait,"
Quatre struggled to understand. "This rose appears as it really is, while
the rest," he gestured broadly to the more mundane flowers, "Are under
disguise?"

"What
words can form a true picture of reality? You see that single bud with faerie
sight, and the rest with mortal eyes. I am not the one to say which vision is
clearer."

"And
why those three things? For the payment?" Quatre clarified.

"My
Lady gives me the means to ask for what I truly desire, for she knows I am not
likely to receive it. Understand this, by demanding one, I am asking for all
three." Trowa stared intently at the rose between Quatre's fingers,
refusing to look up.

"I
don't understand�"

"The
three are one in the same � although they may be given separately. You could
give me the third without a care for the first or the second, but you could not
give the first without also providing the other two. Know that I wish for all
three." Trowa continued to avoided Quatre's eyes.

"I
still�"

"Enough
of that for now! Circling around again will only dig a deeper trench."

"Well,
one of the choices is out of the question, at least."

"What
do you mean?" asked Trowa in a sharp voice.

"I'm
not a maiden, obviously, so of course I don't have a maidenhead to give
you."

"You
should not be so literal in your interpretation of my words." Trowa was on
hands and knees now, stalking closer to Quatre. "Will you offer me your
ring?"

Quatre
held his hands out between them. "I am not wearing one."

Trowa
shook his head. "Too literal." His lips were against Quatre's ear now.
"Will you cover me in your mantle green?"

"I
have no cloak today�" Quatre was quickly losing his ability to think.
Trowa's scent surrounded him like a tangible thing, eroding at his reason.

"Well,
then," the tip of Trowa's tongue flicked Quatre's ear with each word,
"I guess that only leaves the third option."

Quatre
opened his mouth to protest, and found it filled with Trowa's inquisitive
tongue. Blue eyes flew open wide before wilting shut. The invading and
conquering mouth on his was all that Quatre could feel; he clung to the
sensations it provoked like a lifeline, sucking at the twisting tongue in an
attempt not to drown. He was quite literally gasping for breath by the time
Trowa pulled back. "Does the idea of laying with another man distress
you?" he questioned, green eyes noting the flush on Quatre's face.

"No,
I�" Again Trowa's mouth claimed Quatre's. The flavor of this kiss was
different, languorous and deliberate. Not one bit of his mouth remained
unexplored when Trowa finally released it for a second time, some minutes later.

"And
do you at least find me attractive?" Trowa inquired, diving again toward
the melting boy's lips.

Quatre
raised a hand to slow him briefly. "Why do you even feel the need to ask
that?" His face flamed even brighter and his chest was heaving against
Trowa's.

"Because,"
Trowa spoke softly, staring intently at barely parted lips. "I have no
desired to rape." His mouth waited no longer before returning to Quatre's
and his hands just as quickly found their way under Quatre's shirt. The first
contact of Trowa's fingers against his bare flesh sent a sudden shock through
Quatre's entire body. He jerked closer to Trowa, and whimpered into the taller
boy's mouth. The hands ran up Quatre's straining torso as far as they could
before being hampered by his tunic. With a low growl, Trowa pulled back and
ripped the offending article over Quatre's head. He fit his fingers into the
grooves between Quatre's ribs, and traced the outlines of each blushing areola
with his thumbs. Eager to return the attention, Quatre tugged at Trowa's shirt
until it was removed. Hastily he set his own hands to learning every ridge and
hollow of muscle of the exposed back and chest.

"How
about you?" Quatre asked as he felt Trowa's hand on his breech laces.

"How
about me what?" Trowa reared back to sit on his heels, drawing Quatre's
pants with him. He tossed the useless garment to the side and grabbed one of
Quatre's knees in each strong hand, drawing the petite blonde up by them, and
hooking one over each shoulders. He wrapped his arms around Quatre's slim waist,
pressing their bodies tightly together. Thus suspended, Quatre's shoulders
brushed Trowa's hips.

"Do
you at least find me attractive? I'd hate to think you were a totally unwilling
participant." The gentle teasing did not quite match the panting quality in
Quatre's voice.

Trowa
looked down into Quatre's glowing face, "You are the single most beautiful
thing I have ever seen, mortal man. " He turned his face to the right and
ran a firm tongue from mid to the innermost thigh. Trowa then buried his nose in
the crease between Quatre's leg and scrotum, and nipped lightly at the tensed,
corded tendon that he found there.

"Aren't
you mortal anymore?" Gasped Quatre as he reached up for Trowa's supporting
forearm. "You feel hard and human to me � oh!" The cry rang
involuntarily out as Trowa's grin descended on him.

Trowa's
wicked tongue lapped the underside of Quatre's cock. He could not quite reach
the tip, so he placed one fisted forearm under Quatre's buttocks and lifted the
boy towards his face. With the ridged head in reach, he began to flick at it
with his tongue, using fleetingly light touches. He gave the straining erection
one last long lap and then lowered Quatre slightly. Tightening his grip on the
blonde, Trowa moved his mouth to the smooth strip of skin under the tensed sac,
and nuzzled at it. The sensation caused by the wet pressure shot down Quatre's
spine and flared out through his limbs, wracking his hanging body with
convulsions. "What are you doing?" Quatre asked in a wildly
fluctuating voice.

Trowa
hummed his answer in to Quatre's skin, "Kissing you softly, love." The
tongue returned to its previous work, teasing Quatre open and then finally
diving within.

Quatre
could not contain his startled shout. Every new touch had been a revelation, but
Trowa's madly moving mouth was an epiphany. Although he stiffened with the
initial shock of the terribly intimate kiss, Quatre felt his bones melt away,
and he drifted secure in Trowa's embrace.

After
playing Quatre's chest and sides like a fine tuned instrument for several
agonizingly glorious minutes, Trowa stopped his devious tongue to ask,
"You've really missed me, haven't you?"

Quatre
nodded dumbly, his thighs beginning to quake from need. He jumped as Trowa
licked the back of his left knee, and yelped when tiny teeth tracks started to
creep up his thigh. "Why?" His own voice seemed to echo from somewhere
far away.

Trowa
unhooked Quatre's knees and gently eased the boy down on to the cool grass.
"Because," nipping first at Quatre's curved hipbone, he began to
carefully plot a course of kisses up the blonde's trembling chest. Trowa's hot
erection teased and tickled the inside of Quatre's right thigh. "It's going
to make this all so much sweeter." He then kissed Quatre, hard and hungry,
on his open lips. "So sweet." He murmured into Quatre's mouth as he
positioned himself. His lips slid down Quatre's cheek as his length slid into
Quatre's body. "I've missed you, too." Trowa whispered in the
shivering boy's ear.

Quatre
stiffened immediately, his hands scrabbling at Trowa's back, his own back arched
in a stiff bow. Quatre felt as if he had never felt anything before this moment.
There was pain, but there was an overpowering feeling of being complete,
accompanied by a deep burning pleasure. And then Trowa moved. The fire caused by
the gentle stroking raced up his spine and scorched through every nerve ending
in his body. His vision blurred momentarily, and when it returned he found
Trowa's eyes focused on his own. Sensing a need for reassurance, he slid a hand
up to Trowa's neck and drew him down for a kiss. It was like kissing a feather,
or a ghost, at first; the soft pressure an echo of earlier kisses. Quatre ran
the tip of his tongue lightly along Trowa's bottom lip. He thrust his tongue
into the waiting mouth and rocked his hips in an answering rhythm.

Quatre
had to break the kiss to call out Trowa's name, he had the maddening sensation
building within him that there was no other way to release the incredible
pressure coursing through his body. He did feel lighter with the cry, but had
the instant urge to do it again. The name rang forth several more times
involuntarily from his lips, until Trowa covered Quatre's mouth with his own.
Thus caged, his voice began growling and whining in the back of his throat. He
felt an echoing growl rumbling where Trowa's chest was pressed against his, and
it sent an unexpected wave of pleasure through him. His cock twitched where it
was trapped between their rocking bodies. Trowa pushed himself up on one arm and
reached down to lightly grasp the shaft. He flicked his thumb over the damp tip
and Quatre shouted his approval.

Trowa
released him then and moved both hands to Quatre's hips, bringing the boy with
him as he sat back on his own legs. He tightened his grip on Quatre and used the
leverage to being pistoning in and out of the smaller body. The feeling was
explosive, Trowa driving deeper into him with each plunge. Quatre tried to
thrust back, but found no traction draped as he was down Trowa's lap, so he
placed his arms underneath himself and pushed up, quickly catching Trowa's pace.
When he wrapped his legs around Trowa's waist, the change in angle was enough to
fog his sight.

Just
when Quatre was sure that he could not take another stroke without igniting or
dying, Trowa slowed. The hands left his hips and grabbed his wrists, bringing
the boy upright by them. Quatre's legs unknotted from behind Trowa's back. He
placed his knees on the ground, and his hands grasped at Trowa's neck and
shoulders. "You set the pace, young rider." Trowa husked, his face
buried in Quatre's neck as he ran his hands down youth's sides to nestle again
on the slight hips, fingers splayed wide to caress the firm buttocks.

Quatre
hesitated before starting, but passion coupled with years of practice it the
saddle instructed him how to move. He used his forearms on Trowa's shoulder to
steady himself, and began to rock slowly back and forth. Quatre sped up as his
confidence grew and the powerful feeling began to build within him again. As an
experiment, he tried clenching his internal muscles on the down stroke, and was
rewarded by a feral sound from Trowa. He tried it again, and this time was
gifted by a pinching bite on his collarbone. "Trowa!"

"I'm
sorry," the other whispered as he began to bathe the injured spot with his
tender kisses.

"No,"
Quatre heaved, his internal cadence faltering slightly. "Do it again!"
Trowa complied and Quatre threw his head back in a soundless scream, all
semblance of control lost.

"Are
you ready?" Trowa's soft words brushed his ear.

'More?
There's more?' Quatre's mind stumbled, while his mouth shouted out, "Yes,
yes, yes!" Trowa's powerful hand wrapped around his trembling shaft, and
with three quick strokes brought Quatre to a high cliff and pushed him over the
side. Quatre was distantly aware of his own hoarse cries as his body spasmed
repeatedly on Trowa's lap. He felt several hot splashed of liquid on his chest,
which were echoed deep within his body as Trowa's wordless snarls filled his
ears. And then all fell still. Time halted around the pair as they shivered in
each other's embrace, struggling to remember the normal pace of breathing.

Reluctantly
Quatre shifted, allowing their bodies to disengage. Reality settled back over
him like a cloak in the fading light. Quatre slid awkwardly off of Trowa's lap,
unsure of his legs as well as his emotions. "Stop." Trowa grasped his
chin gently and leaned forward to deliver a soft kiss. "Feel no shame from
this, Little One." Trowa's eyes glowed in the gloaming. "You must
leave now, my Lady and her Rade will be here soon. She must not see you."
He gently cleansed Quatre with his own discarded tunic, and dressed the unsteady
boy quickly. "Take your rose, fair child, you have earned it well," he
finished, tucking the flower careful in Quatre's shirt and slid a tender kiss
across the pale forehead. Trowa started to pull away, but Quatre clenched his
elbow.

"May
I come again to see you?"

"Does
the Lord of Carterhaugh need to ask permission to ride in his own lands?"

"Will
you be here, though? Tomorrow?"

"I
shall return here again and again, until I am here no more." Trowa pushed
him out of the bower and into the lane, where Sandrock was waiting.

"I
beg you, give me a plain answer!" Fear built in Quatre's chest, he was
desperate not to lose Trowa again so soon after he had been found.

"If
you were to arrive earlier in the day, I might see more of your sweet face. I
cannot speak any clearer words." Trowa had finished saddling Sandrock as he
answered. He crushed Quatre in one more embrace, lips a hot brand on bruised
lips. He tossed Quatre onto Sandrock as the last of the day's light slipped
away, and smacked the horse hard on the hindquarters. "Away!"

Quatre
clung numbly to the reins, peering back through the thickening gloom for one
last glimpse. He could see nothing, but it seemed as if merrily ringing bells
chased him from the woods and haunted him all the way home.
- 4
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- 6
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