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Blind Target	By : Switchblade003 Category: Gundam Wing/AC > General Views: 1296 -:- 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-Blind Target
- 1
Disclaimer: New Mobile War Chronicle Gundam Wing and all affiliated characters are property of Shin Kidousenki and Bandai, Setsu Agency. Likewise, the story-line for "Blind Target" was written by Akemi Omode and illustrated by Sakura Asagi. I take no credit for their work.

Title: Blind Target

Author: Switchblade003

Pairing(s): Only in cases of extreme OOC or emergency do I ever write anything but 3x4x3. I�m attempting to save a pairing, here, people.

Warning(s): If you aren�t comfortable with YAOI, or you aren�t sure what this acronym stands for, do not continue reading this!

Rating: NC-17, for nothing but YAOI SEX.

Archive: www.wuffie.net

Notes: As always, this is an attempt to curb the number of PWP lemons that exist in the internet fandom community. I don�t have a problem with authors penning the occasional random sex scene, but I try to give mine structure. It gives the genre a bad rep, guys. Anyway, I took some serious creative license with the dialogue and events of "Blind Target." The English-dubbed version is available for sale by Viz graphic novels.

Status: This is the revised edition, not posted on wuffie.net (May 2003).

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"You came alone? All the way out here?"

Trowa Barton has always been a man of few words, and when he does employ the use of verbal statements to convey what he typically can through mere facial expressions, I�ve learned to listen. It�s easy to decipher a lot from the tone of his voice, and I could tell from what his smooth tenor had just indicated that he was slightly unnerved with me, or more appropriately, my irresponsible actions.

Rather than feed into his gentle chiding, though, I shrugged, not turning to meet the sage-green eyes that I knew would harbor a myriad of complicated and tense emotion, and I continued to kneel in the grass before the steel lion cage outside the main circus tent, stroking my knuckles cautiously over the muzzle of the enormous feline for which my partner carried such profound reverence.

"My bodyguards didn�t like it," I mused aloud, studying the lion�s white fangs with narrowed blue eyes. That much was true; my bodyguards had been much less than pleased with me when they had discovered my absence during the night. I was a former Gundam pilot, however, and therefore escape�even under watch of trained professionals�was not an exceedingly difficult task. I suppose that that�s why I never feel truly safe, even under their surveillance. No, the only person around which I feel truly guarded would be my Latin counterpart, the boy who risked his own life to save mine countless of times. "But I needed to talk to you in person."

And I needed to talk to him without any annoying guards leaning over my shoulder, or media sources leaking out the details of our discussion. I turned then to face Trowa, and I tried my damnedest to keep my gaze focused on his face, and no where south of that general vicinity, but his risqué lack of clothing was quite distracting. "�About the Gundams."

As I stated before, my silent partner has no apparent gift for language�though he speaks many, when he speaks at all�and he opts to convey his feelings through body language. Such was the case here, as he nodded tersely and clenched his fists at his sides. There was a flicker of something faintly familiar in his brilliant emerald eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, and he remained motionless. His mind had been wandering down the same road as mine.

"�So, it�s been on you mind too," I said quietly, thoughtfully, though it was more a rhetorical statement than a question. "They�re very dangerous. No one can be allowed to get to them." I turned away from the intense scrutiny of his bottle-green gaze, fidgeting slightly. I always felt uneasy under his gaze, though I�ve gotten a bit accustomed to it. Trowa�s not much in the way of conversation, and he makes up for it in causing awkwardness.

Before me, the lion purred contentedly in its cage. No wonder my comrade got along so well with these seemingly ferocious creatures. They really were quite akin in nature. Both seemed deadly, and could be when provoked, but given the proper care and affection they could both be as gentle as kittens.

At least, the lion was. Perhaps Trowa really was as cold and harsh as he outwardly seemed. My partner has always been quiet, reserved, enigmatic in a beautifully lethal way, and he�s fascinated me for quite some time. We�ve grown to understand and respect one another over the course of the war, and I actually happened to fall in love with my reliable and trustworthy companion. It�s not something that I�d ever broached with him, and I doubted that he�d have taken too kindly to it if he had taken to it at all, but it�s something I�d come to accept. I�d probably have gone the remainder of my life with that dirty little secret, but I�d decided that it would be best to keep it from him.

My purpose in coming was to ask Trowa Barton the biggest favor that I could ever have asked of anyone. I wanted Heavyarms, to destroy it along with the other Gundams. The mobile suits were weapons of destruction to be used only during times of war, and the war had been over for months. In order to preserve and ensure the peace that we had fought so valiantly for, I had to ask my best friend to relinquish the last connection that he still retained to the only way of life he knew.

Trowa was a soldier, a child of war who had trained for most of his youth as a mercenary, guerrilla, terrorist, con artist, pilot, what have you, and he only knew how to survive on the battlefield. The end of the war had marked not only a huge victory for him, but a rather pleasant surprise. He hadn�t expected to live through the war, but now that he had, he wasn�t so certain what to make of himself. I don�t think anyone was.

As much as I hated to ask him this favor, I had to. It was part of my duty as a minister of peace. "I think we have to�"

"Heavyarms was never mine to begin with." He stated it plainly, quietly, but with a tone that brooked no arguments. It was simple. In less than ten words, Trowa had invested in me the power to do with his Gundam, his livelihood and only possession in life, whatever I wished. It shocked me a bit, his willingness to give up the suit, the fact that I hadn�t needed any of the convincing, persuading arguments I�d developed during the three hour shuttle flight to the colony, and somehow I was disappointed. It had been too easy, and conflicts were what I lived for.

"Trowa?" I asked questioningly, wondering what, why, how? I turned to study his face carefully, those dazzling olive-colored eyes, the firm set of his thin lips, anything to give me a clue into his mind. What are you thinking, Trowa? Why the pliancy? You�re never this simple� His face registered slightly confused confidence, and his eyes radiated resolve.

"I have no objections to letting it go," he replied in that quiet, gentle voice, and I was amazed at the authority that laced his docile tenor. Trowa really is a complex mix of just enough yielding to keep you guessing, yet a strength of will that I know cannot be broken. He�s quite simple in nature, a sharp contrast to his personality, which is also misguiding. But if he wanted to do things the easy way this time round, then I wasn�t about to make a mountain out of a mow-hill. "Do away with it in whatever way you see fit," he concluded, and I felt a smile tug at the corner of my lips.

"�Thanks, Trowa," I responded softly. I looked down at my hands, twisting them in my lap as I kneeled in the grass that afternoon, the sun bathing my head and torso in warm, rich golden light, and my friend standing over me like a faithful guardian. And it hit me then, why I�d come all this way to see him. I could have called, or sent one of my secretaries to talk this over with him, and it would have been just as effective. But I�d used this as an excuse, a reason to leave the busy and hectic environment of my office building and the constant watch of my bodyguards to flee to something more simple, something familiar and comforting� my partner.

When the Alliance had declared defeat to White Fang, and Hiirou had blown away the last remnants of Libra and Peacemillion, something strange had happened. We Gundam pilots�and even Noin, Sally, and Howard�had all been living the last year or so of our lives day by day, minute by minute, waiting for the next mission to come in, the next signal to go off and tell us to get in our suits and go out to fight.

As we all sat in our cockpits that day and watched Hiirou Yui end the war that he�d practically started, we came to a mind-blowing conclusion; there would be no more missions, battling, endless conflict and negotiations between Earth and the colonies. The combat was over. And that day, I realized that I had an obligation to return to the blasé, dull life from which I had fled in Sandrock so many months ago. I had inherited Winner Enterprises, Inc. from my late father, and now I had an entire multi-trillion dollar corporation to run.

It was stressful, time-consuming, and entirely opposing of my nature to sit around in an office all day, or shuttle from one meeting to the next, discussing marketing strategies and credit figures with men in business attire, instead of going out and organizing battle formations or directing my four closest friends in the adrenaline rush of a lifetime. I actually missed the skirmishes, the heart-pounding pressure of taking on a Taurus unit that outnumbered me seven to one with half a supply of Vernier fuel in my reserves. I yearned for those late nights of sitting up in the mobile suit hangar aboard Peacemillion with Trowa and chatting away idly about theories on music or battle or whatever else suited me at the moment.

I craved being an active solution to a problem, of living my life by the here and now. This mundane existence had ebbed away at my spirit moreso than any OZ interrogation ever could. And Trowa was the thing I linked closest to the whole lifestyle. As Heavyarms was his link to the war, he was mine. That�s why I�d come all this way to see him.

Something told me that I should probably tell him what I�d just realized, but as I looked up from my hands�still twisting in my lap�to speak, everything that I�d just pieced together in my mind shattered like broken glass, and as my mind fell into its own private kristallnacht, I blinked. Trowa Barton had managed to move without me noticing, and was now squatting down beside me, head lilting to one side curiously, a small smile on his thin lips.

He was the most charming and entirely laughable thing I�d ever seen, and I think he knew that. His glittering verdant eyes studied me closely, holding my gaze easily, casually, and he chuckled. "You didn�t come down here to requisition my Gundam, did you?" he asked gently, coaxingly, and I shook my head somewhat sheepishly, meddlesome straw-blonde bangs falling into my eyes.

Trowa lifted one graceful hand to brush my hair out of my eyes, and he hesitated for a nanosecond before pulling back. I lowered my eyes to the grass once more, mind whirling. I knew then that I didn�t want to walk away from this place, away from him, but I knew that to not do so would be childish and irresponsible, so in a moment my adept intellect fabricated for me a reasonable solution to my problem, a workable compromise�bring Trowa back to the colony with me. I looked up into his eyes, again, and it all fell into place.

It was obvious that my bodyguards couldn�t take care of me; hell, even Rashid couldn�t� And I knew that while he loved the circus and his sister, even quiet Trowa lived for the excitement and surge of life in the fast lane and the finesse of carting around loaded weaponry in crowded places. It just so happened that the job description I had in mind would cover both. Catherine was going to kill me�

"Trowa�" I chewed my lower lip nervously. What if he declined? What if he thought that I was too weak to protect myself? In my haste to come up with a plan, I hadn�t worked out all the kinks. Oh, well. It was either ask him now, or walk away never knowing. "I need to ask a favor of you� A big one." He nodded, indicating that I should continue, and I saw a spark of something in his eyes, but it was gone before I could place a name to it. "I need you to be my� bodyguard." I almost winced as I mumbled the last word, and as I waited for him to flat-out reject the little proposition, I felt my heart drop into my stomach, crestfallen.

Green eyes surveyed my face carefully, and I could see him contemplating the idea. So he wouldn�t laugh at me after all, I decided. One point on the board for me. His gaze traveled over my expression for a moment, and then trailed, down my white dress shirt, my tie, and setton ton the left of of my ribcage. I frowned inwardly as I wracked my brain to figure out why he�d focus on that particular area of my body, how it was related to the offer I�d delivered just then, and I almost laughed when the connection dawned on me. That was where Dorothy Catalonia had speared me with a fencing lance on Libra during the last few hours of the war. It was quite comical that he�d remember that while deliberating over whether or not to spend the rest of his life protecting me.

Before he could respond�and much to my disappointment�Catherine happened around the corner and spotted us. "What are you two trouble-makers doing together back there, hm?" she chided good-naturedly, and I smiled involuntarily. Catherine Bloom, the woman who flung sharp objects at the object of my affections, had an inherent way of brightening any room into which she walked.

She was her brother�s complete opposite in personality, and she loved to tease him about the fact. Talkative, caring, and the �mother hen� of the circus, she had a soft spot for us pilots, and she loved fawning over us. "Quatre, you aren�t getting him into any trouble, are you?" she taunted playfully, and Trowa stood to his full height, indignant. He rolled his eyes and offered me a hand, pulling me up easily.

"You two are so cute together." That had sounded more like an observation than another annoying comment, but my stoic partner blanched just the same. I had to laugh a bit at that, half to hide my chagrin and half at the expression on his handsome face. Shooting a glare at his sibling, Trowa placed a hand in the small of my back and pushed me carefully in the opposite direction of his tormenter, muttering under his breath something in vernacular.

"You�re as bad as she is," he sighed as we approached a small, nondescript white trailer. I climbed the narrow wooden steps to the front door, and he stopped directly behind me, his chest pressed to my back. One strong, lithe arm slipped around me to turn the handle and push the door open, and I stepped forward reluctantly, into the dimly-lit main room of the trailer.

Trowa flicked a light switch somewhere and a reading lamp in the far corner of the room spilled yellowish light across the carpeting, illuminating and casting shadows over the couch and television set that were the trailer�s only real furniture. A small card table supported the television, and a vidlink had been mounted to the wall beside one of the cabinets on the other side of the room. It was sparse and homely, which suited Trowa. "It�s not much," he said softly, closing the front door and activating what I assumed was a security system of some kind, "But I assume that you haven�t booked a room anywhere for the night?"

My eyebrows shot up at this, and I turned to smile at him. His audacity was positively outrageous and I loved him for it. "Thanks," I murmured, moving to sit down on the couch. I assumed that this was where he slept, because I knew from personal experience that he loathed the floor. He�d spent far too many nights sleeping on the floor of a prison cell or a military base in his life, and it was quite understandable.

The sofa was actually very comfortable and plush, and I realized suddenly how tired I felt. I leaned back against the cushions, let my head fall back to rest on the top of the couch as my hands reached up to loosen my tie. Trowa had gone into the kitchen area of the trailer, and I heard sounds of something being prepared. Maybe he was cooking dinner? I was pretty hungry�

"Quatre?" His mild tenor prompted my eyes to open�I didn�t remembered closing them�and I turned my head to one side, looking over to where he stood in the doorway to the kitchen. He had thrown on a thin black tee-shirt and changed into a pair of loose-fitting old green cargo pants that I actually recognized as camo gear from a missie�d e�d completed a few months before the war had ended.

"Are you okay?" he asked, and I could see the shadow of concern that clouded his eyes. I nodded, rubbing my eyes with the back of my hand and stifling a yawn. It wouldn�t be very thoughtful of me to pass out on his couch, but my eyelids felt like lead weights. He seemed to notice all this, and he moved into the room quietly, coming to kneel before me.

I watched in shock and a little discomfort as Trowa leaned into me, my thighs to his sides and his hands at my hips. He was acting unusual, and that was a definite cause for concern. "Trowa�?" I started to ask, but he lifted a finger to my lips to silence me. I sat back as quietly as I could and watched him closely. From his eyes I could tell that he was battling with himself internally, struggling with something, but what?

Hisd fed fell away from my lips, fingertips trailing down my chest, his hand coming to rest flat against my abdomen, and I released the breath that I hadn�t realized I�d been holding. After a few tense moments of complete cessation of sound, Trowa lifted his solemn emerald eyes to gaze into my own sea-blue ones, and he swallowed hard before speaking.

"Quatre, I�ve missed you more than I can tell you. I miss the war� the battles� I miss everything. I hate sitting back at night and watching the news to see you, in a business suit," he said quietly, tugging gently at my tie, "instead of your flight suit." His chest heaved as he sighed heavily, and he hung his head, shaking it slowly. "I made a huge mistake, Quatre," he murmured, his hands holding my hips carefully, and he rested his forehead against one of my thighs. "I came back here after the war, instead of following my emotions, like Hiirou told me. I should have� I should have followed you."

My mouth fell open in a silent exclamation of surprise, my eyes wide. Could he really be trying to tell me what I thought he was, or was I reading way too much into what my poor friend was struggling to tell me? "Quat� My life means nothing, now. I have no purpose, no one to protect. During the war, I fought for Catherine, but there�s peace, now. I did my duty for her. When I saw that building go up in flames on TV, and she told me that you had been in there�"

I could feel the tension in his arms, see it in his posture. I could almost feel the terror that he spoke of, the helplessness he must have experienced. He really did care� It was a revelation to me. I had thought that Trowa consed med me a friend, and ally, but nothing more than that. He obviously cared a great deal more than I�d ever imagined.

And my suspicions were confirmed as I suddenly noticed that my thigh felt damp, and I realized that Trowa was crying. Trowa Barton, the most skilled pilot of us all, the perfect soldier that Hiirou could never persevere to become, was crying. There were no sobs, no shaking or shuddering. He didn�t make a sound. But the tears came, and he didn�t seem embarrassed or ashamed. He trusted me. He cared for me. That touched me.

"Trowa, look at me," I whispered gently, reaching down to take his chin. He raised glassy green eyes to meet mine, tears slipping down his cheeks every now and then, and then he lunged carefully upwards, arms slipping around me in a graceful motion, and he buried his face in my throat. I sat stunned on his couch, listening to him as he babbled about everything at once, felt the sheer power and strength lying dormant in his lithe body, heard the raw emotion and concealed pain in his voice, and I realized that I truly did love the man whose arms I was being held in.

"Quatre, I want to protect you," he was whispering. "I want to be at your side, always. I can�t lose you, not after we survived the war. I made it out for you and Cathy. You made me human, Quatre. When everything gon gone crazy in the world, and I started doubting my own abilities, you brought things into focus for me. You saved me."

Trowa lifted his head from my shoulder and gazed down into my eyes, a storm of pain and tortured memories suddenly giving way to a calm of total clarity. He spoke his next words with a profound awe that only magnified the impact of what he whispered. His eyes locked onto mine and he raised a hand to the side of my face, gazing at me in a childlike wonder that made him seem abruptly virginal and unadulterated. "I love you."

I�m still not certain whether it was the words themselves or the full gravity of the meaning behind them that stunned me, but I sat rigid under my best friend, gazing at him soundlessly for what could have been hours. He sat over me, looking down at my still form with the oddest expression of boyish curiosity on his elegant features, and it was as if we�d both suddenly experienced a simultaneous epiphany.

Trowa had realized during the course of his unexpected purging of pent-up emotions that he harbored for me feelings which even he hadn�t been privy to, and I had come upon the discovery that my partner returned all the confusing sentiment that I extended for him. It was an interesting experience, to say the least.

I don�t remember if he moved first to break the silence, or if I did, but we ended up snapping out of our own personal reveries to gaze at one another again, and I smiled up at him. "Does this mean that you�ll come back to L4 with me?" I asjokijokingly, and he didn�t answer, simply moved forward, closing the distance between us, and pressed his lips hesitantly to my own.

It wasn�t like it always is in the movies, where there�s this magical current of electricity that sparks between the two lovers, and they lapse into a choreographed game of tonsil hockey. No, this was simple, and inexperienced, and almost innocent. I knew that Trowa had never kissed anyone�by his own admission�and I certainly hadn�t, so neither one of us knew exactly what we were doing.

He arched against me subtly, tapping the underside of my chin gently, and I opened my mouth, assuming that that was what he�d wanted. My eyes fell closed of their own volition, and his too shut, long, dark lashes fanning over olive-toned skin, and his tongue touched mine timidly. I think I would have laughed had I been able, because the simple absurdity of two Gundam pilots fumbling through something as elementary as kissing seemed comical to me, but instead, I mimicked what my partner did, and after a while we fell into a comfortable exchange of caresses.

He pulled away first, gasping softly for breath, and I could feel his heart pounding in his chest, see how his lips were a bit swollen and darker than they normally appeared. I licked my own lips, tasting him there, a mixture of salt, sugar, and a taste that was uniquely Trowa in my mouth. I liked it. I think he did, too, because he kissed me again, and then he dropped his head to my shoulder. I let one of my hands stroke along his back, feeling warmth through the thin cotton of his shirt, letting the pads of my fingers run over the small bumps of his spine. He moved against me gently, and I could tell that he was enjoying the affection.

I knew that Trowa had had issues with relationships in the past, and from what he�d told me of his experiences with the mercenaries who had raised him, it was understandable. When I had first met him, he had abhorred physical contact with anyone, but over the years that I�d known him he�d loosened up around me. He still jumped when Duo slapped him on the back after a mission well-done, or when Sally had to treat his wounds, but he was getting better. It occurred to me then that perhaps he�d never experienced affection before, without some kind of cruel sexual act taking place directly afterwards. Maybe he associated affection with rape?

Whatever the case, he certainly didn�t seem opposed to my close proximity or tender coddling, now. In fact, I could have sworn he was purring into my shoulder as I stroked his back, feeling the flat planes of muscles under smooth skin, and I suddenly felt the urge to touch skin instead of shirt. Carefully, slowly, I slipped my hand under the hem of his shirt, and slid my palm over the velvet skin at the small of his back.

He tensed in my arms, though only for a moment before sighing softly and turning his head to press a chaste, encouraging kiss to the side of my neck. It sent a shiver down my spine, and I made a small noise of appreciation, stroking my hand along his vertebrae. "Trowa?" I whispered, letting my eyes fall closed once more. He made a sound of acknowledgement and I continued. "Take your shirt off."

Trowa lifted his head, gazing at me curiously, but he obliged, sitting up where he straddled my waist and pulling his shirt up and over his head. He tossed the article to the floor carelessly and sat still under my gaze as my eyes surveyed inches upon inches of bare, tanned skin. He was beautiful, a magnificently-sculptured display of power and grace that amazed me. I noted also, with a bit of amusement, that my nineteen year-old friend was relatively free of body hair, something that I�d often heard Duo joke about, but had never really confirmed for myself. He seemed to notice the laughter dancing in my eyes, because a slight blush stole across his face, and that did cause me to laugh. "Why are you blushing?" I asked softly, and he glared at me.

"I wouldn�t have to if you�d stop staring at me like I�ve got an extra arm or something," he frowned, and shifted his weight suddenly, pulling me gently off of the couch and bearing us both to the carpet, leaning over me on his hands and knees. With a decidedly mischievous smirk tugging at his lips, Trowa proceeded to strip me of my tie and began systematically unbuttoning my shirt, skilled fingers dancing deftly down the row of little plastic buttons.

I squirmed under him as he finished and pushed the folds of my shirt aside, gazing down at my torso. Lust sparked in his green eyes as he trailed his fingers down the center of my chest, over abdominal muscles that trembled under his warm touch. He leaned down, lips caressing the hollow of my throat briefly before following the same path that his hand had, and I writhed under him.

"Beautiful," he whispered as he lapped at my navel languorously, slipping an arm under my hips and stroking my side absently. He dragged his lithe frame up my body, lowering his mouth to close over one of my nipples, kissing and licking and nipping until I cried out in frustration. I wasn�t completely naïve to the act of sexual intercourse, but I was still a virgin. I knew what I wanted, though I wasn�t too certain as to how two males could achieve it.

However. from listening to Duo I knew that it was possible. Trowa didn�t seem to know exactly what he was doing either, but from the small frown that creased his brow, I could discern that he was gauging my reactions in order to decide whether or not he was doing something correctly. I was a little relieved that he�d taken control of the encounter, because he at least had a vague notion of what to do.

I moaned aloud at a sudden change in tactics as Trowa drew the flesh he�d been teasing into his mouth and suckled tenderly. Something strange, foreign, and completely pleasant shot down my spine and straight to my groin, and I reached up to thread my fingers through the short hair at the back of my partner�s head, holding that talented mouth to my chest. "Love you," he murmured against my skin as he lapped his way back down my stomach, muscles rippling in his wake, and he stopped at the hem of my slacks. He stared down at that area for a while, and I opened my eyes, breath coming in short pants, eyes half-lidded in lust. What was he doing�?

Sage-green eyes, dark with desire and hesitation, looked up at me, and he placed a gentle kiss to my navel. "Are you sure that you want this, Quatre? I can stop now, if you want." I shook my head frantically. No, I didn�t want him to stop. I wanted the complete opposite. I wanted to reach whatever climax my body told me that he was driving me towards. Something told me to trust him, that he could show me what to do.

So, accepting my permission, he undid the simple buckle to my slacks, pushing the leather and brass aside and unzipped my pants, tugging them down my thighs and off of my ankles. He hooked his fingers in the elastic of my briefs, pausing to glance up at me, and I nodded again. Those came off as easily as the slacks, and then I was lying on my back on the floor of his trailer, naked except for the shirt that hung off my shoulders. I felt vulnerable and a bit awkward, but it wasn�t as bad as I had thought it would be.

Trowa�s eyes trailed over my body, and though I had an idea that he�d known what to expect when he�d stripped me of my clothing, I could understand why he seemed so fascinated. He ran his hands over my thighs, and I tensed as his fingertips came perilously close to touching me where I wanted it most. "Trowa," I gasped his name, squeezing my eyes closed. When I opened them, I decided that he was wearing too much clothing still, and I reached for him, taking him by the hips and pulling him closer over me.

With shaking hands I undid the metal closure to his pants, then slid the zipper down, tugging feebly at the material that clung to his hips. I pulled his shorts down with them, and he moaned quietly above me as the cloth rubbed over his erection, obvious through the loose material. I sat up on one elbow and pushed coaxingly on the small of his back, and he moved towards me. With my free hand, I finished pulling his pants and shorts down until they reached mid-thigh, and I felt my own groin tighten as I stared at his arousal. "Wow," I muttered, and he blushed again.

"You�re as fully equipped as I am," he quipped, standing to kick off the last of his clothing before kneeling over me, again. Trowa stopped for a passionate, urgent kiss before he moved back down my body. This time, he did stop where I wanted him to, and without a word he bent to take the very tip of my member into his mouth.

Fire laced my veins at that intimate contact and I cried out, holding his head to me again, and the hot cavity of his mouth enclosed the head of my erection, sucking gently, pushing me closer to the brink of whatever it was that I was feeling. My hips bucked up involuntarily, towards the source of the intense pleasure that my lover was giving me. I had never imagined that I�d come here today and end up losing my virginity to this amazing young man, but I was glad that I had.

Trowa appeared surprisingly comfortable in our current position, and he seemed to accommodate my length with an almost practiced ease. It gnawed at the back of my conscience, the thought that he had done this before, but I decided to focus instead on the sensations that he was creating within me, the desire and need pulsing through my body as I thrashed under him. "Trowa, onegai," I whimpered, and he groaned at that, taking me in to the hilt, and the feeling had me reeling with want. The muscles in my thighs tightened, and I felt my stomach contract almost violently, Trowa�s throat milking me more roughly now.

The desire I felt for my partner, the need, the all-consuming lust all spiraled to a single precipice, and as my lover�s tongue ran along the underside of my shaft, the feelings in my body reached their peak, and I must have screamed because it was like nothing I�d ever experienced before. My back arched off of the floor, my head falling back and my eyes snapping wide open, and I emptied myself into Trowa�s mouth.

I lay whimpering softly in the aftershocks of my orgasm as Trowa licked me clean, then crawled up my body to lay over me, nuzzling into the underside of my chin tenderly. I swallowed hard, panting still, and slipped my arms around him, holding him close to me. "Trowa," I murmured, and he leaned up to kiss me fervently. I could taste myself on his lips, and I felt his arousal against my hip. I looked up at his handsome face, strained with want.

"What do you want me to do?" I asked, and he shook his head, sitting up and indicating for me to stay where I was. I hed hed as my lover got up quickly, scampering over to a cabinet on the other side of the room and rummaging around for something. His face lit up when he found whatever it was that he�d been looking for, and he returned with a triumphant flash to his eyes. It was a tube, no larger than a shot glass, but I couldn�t make out the label. So I laid back and trusted that Trowa was knowledgeable about the mechanics of gay sex.

The edge of my mouth quirked a bit at that thought, because it occurred to me then that that�s exactly what we were doing, and I think that Trowa must have caught onto my line of thinking, because he rolled his eyes again and landed an admonishing swat to the side of one of my bare thighs. I snickered softly as he unscrewed the cap and squeezed a small amount of the jelly-like stuff into the palm of his hand; I�d never have pegged Trowa Barton as �homosexual� before, but I guess that it just goes to show that you can�t judge a book by its cover, so to speak.

He didn�t seem overly pleased with being laughed at again, so he smacked my thigh again, though this time his hand landed with more force than it had before, and I moaned a little at the feeling. One elegant eyebrow shot up questioningly at my response, and I sighed and shrugged, much to his amusement. He filed that knowledge away for future reference and rubbed his hands together slowly, to warm up the stuff in his palms, and then nudged gently at the inside of one of my knees, kneeling between my legs.

"This is going to hurt a little," he warned softly, and I nodded. I had expected as much, because he was a bit larger than I would have liked� sort of. Basic geometry told me that he was definitely wider than my entrance, and that some discomfort was inevitable, but he seemed intent on avoiding any unnecessary pain on my part. Carefully, delicately, he slipped a finger into my body, and despite the lubricant it was a bit uncomfortable. He added a second and then a third, thrusting them into me slowly, cautiously.

I chewed my lower lip, eyes narrowed in uneasiness for a few moments, until Trowa hit something inside of me that caused me to moan loudly and thrust back onto his hand. A victorious little smile stole across his lips at my reaction, and I gazed up at him with half-lidded eyes. Trowa slipped his fingers from inside me and moved closer, braced over me on knees and elbows, and he nuzzled my throat in a rather catlike way, whispering into my ear. "Just tell me if you want me to stop, or if I hurt you, all right?"

I nodded, my hands to his sides, and he left himself off braced on one hand as he reached down to spread the lubricant over his own shaft, hissing at the sweet friction it must have created. He took his erection into his hand and guided it to my body, and then, slowly and carefully, he pushed into me. I gasped at the feeling of him forcing himself past the ring of muscle guarding my entrance, clutching at his sides and squeezing my eyes closed as he drove further into me, until he was fully sheathed within my body, buried to the hilt, and I moaned softly into his neck.

He shifted, pulling back out almost completely, and I felt bereft, empty without his insistent pressure. Whimpering, I flexed my hands against his sides, urging him to fill me again, and he obeyed willingly, thrusting into me with gentle strength. I could tell that he was holding back, keeping his hormones in check to avoid hurting me, and I decided that I wanted to put a stop to that.

As he pushed into me in a slow, even rhythm, our hips oscillating in synch with each other�s, I pushed up to meet his downward drive, with force, and Trowa groaned, fighting the instinct to drive himself to completion. My brows knit in frustration, and I tried again, snapping my hips up to hit his, and this time his fragmented control finally broke.

Trowa braced himself up on one hand, the other reaching down to grab my hip, and his slender hips pistoned downward quickly, driving into me adamantly. He hit my prostate hard, and I cried out, bucking up against him for more. My lover slammed into me mercilessly at that, rocking against me, and I opened my eyes briefly to gaze up at him.

He was gorgeous. Brilliant emerald eyes were barely open, unfocused and dazzling as the light caught in them ever so slightly. His head was thrown back, lips parted as he drew in labored breaths while ramming into my body. His face was flushed, awash with pleasure, a frown sitting between his elegant brows. His hair was damp with sweat, auburn-brown bangs tossed up and out of his eyes.

The muscles in his arms trembled from his weight, his stomach quivering in what I assumed were the last few moments before he reached the pinnacle. His body moved with a feline-like grace that held me captivated even as I rocked with his movements, and I felt my own body tensing with my oncoming orgasm, Trowa�s thrusts driving me closer and closer towards the edge. "Quatre�"

My lover moaned my name, gasping loudly as his entire frame went rigid above me, and with one last, impossibly deep ram of his arousal into my body, he lost his iron control, shouting out in vernacular and groaning as he continued motimotions, emptying himself inside of me. That was enough to throw me violently into climax, screaming his name as I spilled my seed over both our stomachs, and he collapsed onto me heavily, breath coming in gasps.

We lay on the floor of his trailer, trying to catch our breaths, Trowa curled against me and holding onto me almost too tightly. After a while, he lifted his head, gazing down at me possessively, and some other undefined emotion clouded his beautiful green eyes. Thin lips pressed to my own softly, languidly. "I love you," he whispered and lay his head to my shoulder once more. I stroked a hand through his short hair, wet with perspiration, and I pressed a kiss to his temple, feeling his pulse racing under my lips.

"I love you as well, Trowa." And as I lay there, my partner in my arms, both of my missions accomplished, I felt a smile tug at my lips. For the first time since the war had ended, I wasn�t dreading returning to the colony to run the business, and my heart didn�t feel nearly as heavy as it had when I�d arrived here. I would return to L4, and the missing part of my lwoulwould return alongside me. And I noted absently, as Trowa�s breathing evened out into the soft rhythms of sleep, that the press would have a field day when they found out that the multi-trillionaire CEO, golden boy Quatre Winner, was a homosexual.

A smirk took my lips as I imagined the reporters� faces when I showed up at an evening affair with Trowa at my side. I mused for a while on how handsome he might look in a tuxedo, and the fact that his new job would require him to wear a suit everyday�he hated suits. With these giddy thoughts dancing through my mind, my eyes fell closed, and I curled around the pilot in my arms. I fell asleep that night not with the stress of maintaining peace between Earth and the colonies, but with the rapture of knowing that my best friend would be there to help me through the whole ordeal.

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Finis.
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