When It Rains [complete]

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A/N: This is a roleplay between Mephistowaltz and myself (wingless), containing Trowa Barton and my original character, Lucian. This takes place post The Void, which probably doesn\'t make any sense to you. We both participate in an online roleplay called The Black Hole, set in a place called The Void where Lucian was slave to Trowa for six days and nights.

To help things further make sense, Lucian is half devil, half human, and he has one wing of black feathers and one of leather and claws which he can force out of his back at will, though it pains him.

For those who are curious to see more, you can see The Black Hole here:

http://www.livejournal.com/community/blackhole_lost/

And you can read the character profiles page here:

http://www.livejournal.com/community/spacial_void/

Hope you like it!

This roleplay isn\'t consequential to The Black Hole itself; call it a side-story.

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When It Rains

Lucian strode down the sidewalk slowly, his entire body swathed in the loose black cloak about him, the collar buckled up and shadowing his face as well, so that only his eyes could be seen.

There wasn\'t any need for him to hide his face; none of the humans could see him. He just felt less vulnerable that way.

A familiar aura caught his attention, and his ears perked within the large hood he wore, his dark gaze flicking over the crowd.

He spotted Trowa Barton walking down the sidewalk across the street, and the halfling froze on the spot. Humans walked past him and around him, unnoticing, as he stared at the young man who had been his master for six long days and nights, and one he had never expected.

Though it was against his better judgement, Lucian crossed the busy street, almost impossibly avoiding being hit by traffic, which seemed to flow around him.

He reached the sidewalk several feet ahead of the human he was seeking out, and sent out a silent greeting.

Hello, Trowa Barton.

Coffee. Trowa was out of coffee. It wasn\'t surprising, since coffee was about the only sustenance he ever bought himself, the term \'sustenance\' being loose, of course. Food was a nonexistent thing in his apartment- condiments galore lived in the fridge, but food...nadda.

Thank hell Trowa\'s next-door neighbour was still in cooking school and needed her favourite guinea pig.

But coffee he needed.

And so coffee he went for.

The general store down the street sold his favourite, which was neither cheap, nor was it considered decent by consumer standards. But it was his favourite.

He kicked a rock, and it hit the back of a man\'s shoe. God, the sidewalks were always so congested. His oldest friend could\'ve been walking just in front of him and he never would\'ve known.

‘Hello, Trowa Barton’

His name on the wind? No. . .in his head? Trowa stopped, and peered around. That voice. . .He knew it.

He stood, letting the mass of pedestrians part around him and re-mill behind him.

\"You,\" he whispered. \"Where?\"

Lucian stared at the human before him, watched his reactions, gauged them.

The fact that Trowa had heard him told him volumes alone; only a heart open and listening could hear his silent voice. His hands shifted beneath the cloak until he was grasping the backs of his arms, yet still Lucian couldn\'t tear his gaze away from the human.

In front of you.

He didn\'t know what more to say.

What more was there to say? What did he want from this human? A sense of familiarity was what had spurned him into crossing the street... but now he was at a loss.
Unless...

Enter the next alley.

Coffee would have to wait.

Such a concise and direct order had to be obeyed.

Trowa a few steps forward, through the masses, until he could pass left into the alleyway. When he did, it was like being asthmatic and finally able to breathe. Like an entirely different world, one somehow cleaner than the intersection of suit-wearing bulls.

A few metres in, Trowa chose a non-descript spot to stop, he leaned against the wall, and waited.

The rats and mice made horrid skittering noises before making a death-gripped run deeper into the alley and away from Lucian. A cat shrieked and jumped out from the trash near Trowa, and also bolted down the alley as fast as it could without looking back.

Nothing new... animals loathed him.

He stared once more at this human, leaning against the wall, looking around slowly.

He was so trusting, so faithful; he hadn\'t even demanded to know why he was being told to move into the dark side-street, he simply did it.

Was it because he was a soldier and used to taking orders, or was it something else?

It didn\'t matter; what was done was done, and now Lucian had to continue the ripple in this human\'s fate he\'d begun, and carry it out to the end.

Do you remember me, Trowa Barton? Do you remember The Black Hole, The Void?

Trowa watched the cat dart down the alley, afraid of something it could not sense entirely.

Yes, animals always knew. He wondered if he should follow the cat\'s example and bolt, or if this was a matter only understood by a higher brain. In any case, he had wasted too much time deliberating, because his \'old friend\' spoke and sealed the deal, as it was.

Trowa had to smile at the question.

\"I\'m notorious for my memory problems, but I remember you, yes.\" Trowa threw a look in the being\'s general direction. It should\'ve been more unnerving talking to an invisible person, but for some reason it wasn\'t. \"Now then. . .why?\"


He smelled rain on the air; there would be a downpour soon. But Lucian had time, and perhaps if he decided to leave sooner rather than later, he could simply disappear with the first raindrops and watch the human run to seek shelter and warm dwellings rather than stay in an alley with a monster.

The Halfling\'s eyes narrowed as he watched Trowa\'s movements, gauged his reactions, and listened to his vital signs. Heartbeat, slightly faster than normal. Pupils dilated. Synapses firing with more speed than minutes ago.

The human was thinking quickly, and what with this being Trowa Barton, the minimal increases in his vitals meant that he was greatly affected by it.

And then... the human spoke.

Why indeed.

Lucian opened his mouth before he allowed himself the habit of sifting through his words.

You were one of the creatures I met whom I... appreciated.

What more was there to say? Anything else would be too much.

He barely knew how the human was reacting internally to this intrusion on his life; for all Lucian knew, he wasn\'t welcome.

Trowa blinked, and looked to the concrete right in front of his feet, the only place he could really be sure Lucian wasn\'t.

\'Appreciated?\'

What did that mean, really?

Certainly, the being had appreciated Trowa\'s help- his blood, life force, whatever it was that Trowa had given up that day. Memory of that moment, sent a brief tingle through his body that seemed as foreign as ever.

Lucian had been appreciative for that, but that wasn\'t to what he was currently referring. What he was saying. . .small talk? Ice breaker? Could he sense the tension in Trowa\'s body? The increased vitals? Did he know?

No, this wasn\'t small talk. This was an invitation, of sorts. To what, Trowa didn\'t know.
How did he accept the invitation? No. . .wait. . .did he want to? What did he want? Shit.

\"So?\"

Lucian took his time watching, observing.

He had made the human uncomfortable.

Maybe the impending downpour was a blessing of sorts, if he could call anything happening to him a blessing. This was appearing less and less like a wise decision the longer he stood before the human, but something kept him in place.

Thunder sounded in the distance as Lucian uttered aloud, \"I simply wanted to greet you once more, Trowa. I haven\'t had many Masters, but you were the only one I didn\'t mind.\"

Hells.

That came out completely wrong.

Lucian\'s eyebrows knitted together in frustration as the air in the city began to cool, reflecting his change in mood. Yet... as the first droplets of rain began to fall, the halfling found himself unwilling to part with this human just yet.

He hadn\'t lied; Trowa really was the one master he\'d less than loathed.

With a silent, defeated sigh, he lifted one hand, parting his cloak and wrapped it around the human, just as the rain became downpour. Even though he was still invisible to the mortal eye, he was still something physical in this world, and he shrouded Trowa close to his body, keeping the human dry and warm.

To any other human Trowa would appear simply, unbelievably dry.

There was something so. . .contradictory about the whole thing. First the cold connotation in Lucian\'s words, then the warmth of the incorporeal cloak around Trowa\'s body, and in Lucian\'s closeness.

Was protection from the rain meant as an apology for bringing the \'services-rendered\' up, or did Lucian simply feel compelled to protect his \'master?\' Trowa hated the second idea.

He\'d rather walk in the rain than take on that role again. The idea had always upset him, and rendered him uncomfortable. Such serfdom was complete bollocks. There was something else there, though- something he was less comfortable with. The idea of being responsible for someone, and for guiding them. Their slave-master relationship truly was the blinder leading the blind.

Trowa held out a hand, felt the coldness of the rain, and the hardness as it poured down more fiercely. He leaned back slightly- deeper into the comfort of the warmth provided from the beyond.

It was an apology, even if it hadn’t been intended as such.

\"Thank you. These were my only clean clothes, too. I wouldn\'t have had anything to change into, had I soaked them.\"

Lucian tensed slightly as the human leaned closer to him. He took a slow, deep breath and looked straight ahead, out of the alley.

What am I supposed to do now? he thought dryly. Escort the human home?

Hells, hells, hells.

He grit his teeth and wound his arms around the human, pleading silently that Trowa hadn\'t changed much since their last encounter and wouldn\'t cry out upon being lifted.

Pushing his wings out of his back quickly, Lucian hoisted the human into his arms and covered him completely with the cloak like a child, holding him to his chest as he crouched and sprang, taking to the air.

His wings snapped open and sent beads of water flying off of them in an arc as Lucian beat them quickly and tore across the sky, allowing his own form to appear as well as fog began to rise over the city, masking them from sight.

He didn\'t want to ask the question, where do you live?... so instead, he decided he would bring the human to a place he knew was safe enough for the both of them.

Lucian landed atop the apartment building with one last clap of his wings, and he drew them back into his shoulders slowly, only wincing slightly at the pain as he opened the rooftop door and headed down the stairs into the suite.

For once, the dwellings of one of the humans he\'d seen killed would be useful to him.


It was a strange thing, being carried hoisted up and carried around like a child or a bride through a doorframe, or whatever other silly sort of metaphors someone could construct.

Years of shying away from touch entirely, and then falling into an alternate dimension suddenly gave everyone the right to swoop him into their arms and carry him around as they pleased.

Strange, indeed. Then again, Lucian was rather more Gundam than human, sometimes. And it was useful- Trowa had no idea how far they\'d travelled- he could only hypothesize the speed at which they\'d flown. And he was still dry, save for that small splattering between Lucian detracting his wings and them entering a stairwell. Trowa didn\'t know where the hell they were- it sure wasn\'t his apartment.

Not that it really mattered. There was only one thing that mattered.

There had better be coffee.

The halfling drew his cloak back and placed Trowa on his feet gently, before pulling down the hood from his head and unclasping the cloak. He tossed the wet covering across one of the writing desks that had belonged to the last human who lived here, ignoring the writings the wet cloth was no doubt ruining.

A dead man wasn\'t going to care about lost memoirs nobody would ever read.

Lucian placed his hands on his hips and looked around the room. Nobody knew of the man\'s death a few streets away, and his body was still chopped into nine pieces and scattered about the city. It was as though he could return at any moment, and only Lucian and the killer were privy to knowledge otherwise.

\"There is food in the kitchen, and all the necessities for human function,\" he said quietly. \"You can stay here until the rain lets up.\"

He looked down at the thick white carpet he was ruining with his dirty boots, but the halfling\'s expression remained nonchalant.


Since Lucian had offered, in a sense, Trowa up and went to the kitchen. It was a nice place- fairly clean, all white and chrome and modern. There was a swanky espresso maker in the corner, set on a timer. Instead of searching for an everyman type of maker, or coffee, Trowa sped up the timer to start the machine. It gurgled deliciously, and set about its work.

He found mugs in the second cupboard he checked- the first had plates and bowls- and he pulled two and set them down on the counter near the trendy coffee maker. Two. . .did Lucian drink coffee? Should he ask? Lucian drank blood, and it sort of had a similar consistency, but that hardly meant the demon struggled with the coffee bean demon.
It would take time anyway.

Trowa padded back into the carpeted area, slipping his shoes off and tucking them beside the wall on the tiled kitchen floor. He only did so because Lucian seemed so fixed on the black stains on the white carpet. While they were intriguing, Trowa wasn\'t sure he wanted to leave that kind of trail. Where the hell were they?

It certainly wasn\'t Lucian\'s flat. Trowa wasn\'t overly concerned since Lucian didn\'t seem to be, but he was cautious.

\"I\'m making coffee-espresso, rather.\"

He paused. \"Enough for four, or for two people who drink it like I do.\"

This was small talk. Idle chat. Babble.

What the humans did when they had nothing better to do.

Lucian couldn\'t say he was surprised. He had stopped this man in the street, said but a few words to him, and then rushed him off to an apartment he had never seen before.

If anything, he would suspect a normal human to be questioning all of this, and having a fit.

But not Trowa...

It was one of the reasons Lucian felt a little more at ease around Barton than most any other human; Trowa kept calm and seemed to accept things.

The halfling shook his head slowly and walked across the room to the window, sitting on the padded ledge and leaning against the cool glass. \"No... thank you. That particular substance isn\'t appealing to my diet,\" he said quietly, looking up and catching Trowa\'s eye. \"But help yourself to as much as you want.\"

He drew one foot up onto the soft cushioning beneath him, no longer concerned about making a mess now that his boots had been cleaned on the carpet.

The gigantic, spike-soled footprints would remain a mystery to whatever humans worked on the case of the missing tenant.

If it was ever discovered that he was missing.

\"I will, thanks.\"

Trowa sat on the sofa, not reclining or leaning, but not unnaturally stiff-ish either. He looked at the carpet, at the bizarre footprints his companion had made on the otherwise pristine white carpet. Trowa wondered again about the apartment- it was nice enough, much nicer than his pad. It wasn\'t exactly Winner mansion, but it had its own charm.

Maybe it was the large, leather armchair- nearly big enough for two- or maybe just the softness of the white carpet, but it had a richness to it. Trowa rubbed his feet into the fibres of the carpet, warming them. Although his feet weren\'t wet, the day\'s dampness had gotten to him. He needed new shoes, and had for a long time, and his socks had holes in the bottoms.

If they\'d been as such during his days as a merc- what now seemed like a previous life- he would\'ve been beaten a bit. Just enough to remind him a soldier\'s feet were his most important pieces of equipment. Even if you\'d lost your gun, arm, and intestines, your feet could still get you out of harms way.

Hopefully he wouldn\'t need to refer to his feet as equipment here with Lucian.

Hopefully he wouldn\'t need to run away.

He didn\'t know what to say now that they were settled in this room. So he simply looked at his feet, and waited for his espresso, warming to the environment as the rich smell permeated the room, his one true vice muddling his senses.

Lucian stared blatantly at his company.

He had arranged all this himself... he had gone out of his way to speak with the human, and now he had absolutely nothing to say.

So instead, he stood and walked across the room and into the kitchen. The halfling didn\'t make a habit of eating human foods, but he knew how to prepare them after years of simply observing, silent, unseen.

He returned to the living quarters with a freshly-filled ceramic mug of the foul-smelling liquid Trowa had begun to repair, and held it out before the human. \"Have you been well?\" he asked softly, though first glance minutes before on the street told him an immediate story of poor income or poor appearance upkeep... or both.

With little to no effort he could shower wealth upon the human, and take away all of his worldly burdens... but often that brought a worse kind of dissatisfaction and unhappiness in humans, when they couldn\'t think of anything else material they wanted.

A new kind of hell.

Besides that, Lucian found himself doubting Trowa would accept many gifts from the halfling, and he had every reason and right not to trust him; he was what he was by nature and not by choice.

Trowa took the mug from Lucian, brushing the tips of his fingers over the being\'s as he did so. For what reason, he didn\'t know. Maybe just to see if the hot mug affected the halfling, or maybe for another reason altogether.
He sipped at the espresso. It was on the weak side, but good and warm and comforting- Trowa knew he was an addict just by how his body reacted to it.

Much how it reacted to Lucian.

He glanced up at his companion, and considered the question as he sipped again. \"I\'ve been. . .the same as always.\"


He wasn\'t sure if he needed to explain the comment, but he did whisper what Lucian probably already knew.

\"Lost.\"

The halfling nodded slowly.

Seeking answers, seeking knowledge, seeking... seeking acknowledgement, and attention-- even if he wouldn\'t admit it himself.

Lucian knew the ways, knew the path Trowa walked, and the way he looked upon it. He walked it himself, though for different reasons.

He loathed the fact that this human was so desensitized that seeing a creature that spoke worlds about the existence of heaven and hell didn\'t put a dent in his stride.

And yet, he loved it as well-- he knew he could leave Trowa again and never have to worry that he was the cause for mental anguish, for questioning of beliefs and for ripping his world to pieces.

\"For now, two travelers are huddled together as their paths cross once more,\" he whispered back gently, trying to comfort the human they way his presence and attitude comforted Lucian.

If he wanted to be truthful with himself, he\'d admit that there were several reasons why he hadn\'t avoided Trowa Barton on the street all together, and the major one was that he felt some relief in this man\'s presence.

But he didn\'t feel like being truthful with himself just yet, so instead he added a soft, \"Even if it\'s the blind leading the blind, they can feel just as well or even more accurately than one who can see.\"

He reached out and brushed his fingers over Trowa\'s in the same manner that the human had done to him during the exchange of the mug.

Lucian felt a small wave of comfort fill him as he did so, rather than nervous anticipation. And so, he did it again, this time covering one of Trowa\'s hands with his own.

Trowa stared at the hand upon his own- larger, paler, more used to touch than his own that clung to the mug. It was. . .nice, this touch. Being here. Even though he wasn\'t quite sure what constituted \'nice\', he knew it to be so relatively. He looked up at companion, who looked so cold but seemed so very warm at this point. He knew. . .how Trowa felt.

Somehow, even from such different worlds, there was a core sameness to them. Was that why he had simply done as Lucian had demanded on the street? Was that why he had done what he\'d done back in the black hole, catalyzing all of this.

Was Trowa so very different- inhuman, as many had called him- that he had to seek out a. . . companion, friend, something. . .in an entirely different dimension?

Instead of lingering on the thought, Trowa lifted the mug slowly, with both hands, watching Lucian\'s hand as he did so. The touch remained, and Trowa pulled that touch with him as he placed the mug to his lips. So he drank and was filled with heat on both the in and outsides.

He watched the movements, saw the lack of reaction and everything he thought that to mean in reply.

There was no rejection, no darting of pupils for a way to escape the situation.

Lucian\'s stomach tightened at the sight before him as Trowa drank his hot, foul liquid. A human, before him, so easy to ruin, so fragile, so soft... but this one was different.

This one didn\'t strike defensiveness into Lucian\'s heart, nor did Trowa make the halfling\'s desire for death rise.

Rather, it was the opposite.

He wanted to take the human away from his ratty clothes and cold limbs because he had the power to do it....

But that was something he knew he had no permission to interfere with, neither from the fates nor the human in question.

Instead, he settled for keeping the human warm, and increasing his own rising level of need for this type of comfort that the nonresponsive human was giving him.

The halfling scooped Trowa\'s legs up from beneath the knee and laid them across his own leather-clad thighs, and slid his other arm around the human\'s waist, holding him up so he had something to lean against. He stared openly into the human\'s face, searching for something, yearning, as his hand slid down Trowa\'s legs and to his socked feet. He took one into his hand and curled his fingers around the cool toes slowly, putting his warmth into them.

W. . .what?

This was new. This was. . .no, what?

\"What are you. . .?\" Trowa stopped himself, held by Lucian\'s searching eyes. He felt the pressure of Lucian\'s palm slide down his leg to rest on his foot- on the ratty-socked foot. A sudden warmth into him made Trowa realize Lucian saw everything- not just everything Trowa figured he saw, but Every Single Thing.

He shouldn\'t have liked this- being in such close proximity to Lucian. His sphere of comfort had been invaded entirely and Lucian seemed to think nothing of it. And it took no time for Trowa to become acclimatized to this position, this warm embrace. His feet were warm, his mug still half full, and the eyes looking into his comforting, sympathetic, but not patronizing.

Trowa searched Lucian\'s face similarly, unsure of what he\'d find, but curious, and concerned and slightly excited. Excitement. . .was new.

\"I like. . .your eyes,\" he whispered, and sipped his drink.

Lucian blinked in slight surprise. He hadn\'t been expecting that. Well, it made one of the two that liked his eyes.

He was supposed to express his thanks for what sounded like a compliment. And coming from this man, it probably was, rather than a loaded statement.

\"You\'re the first,\" he replied softly, shifting his hand to the other foot and leaving it there for several long, wordless moments as the grandfather clock in the hall ticked away the time moment by moment.

He wanted to make the human\'s entire body warm; wanted to shroud him and protect him from the things that put darkness under and inside his eyes.

He wanted to do for Trowa Barton what he couldn\'t do for himself.

Lucian did the next best thing once more; he pulled Trowa closer to him so that the man\'s shoulder slid under Lucian\'s and their chests were pressed against one another, then he leaned forward slightly, pressing his cheek to the human\'s forehead in an embrace like a parent would for a child.

In no way did he feel superior to this creature, but Lucian did acknowledge that he was the more resilient of the two and he wanted to extend his comfort to Trowa in any way he could manage.

For a few moments, Trowa had assumed he\'d insulted Lucian, which hadn\'t been his intention at all. However, he wasn\'t quite sure what his intention had been in the first place. Just a statement of his own truth. No connotations attached. He had felt a slight sadness in thinking he\'d hurt Lucian, since the being had gone through so much trouble to comfort Trowa in his own way.

Trowa hadn\'t even realized he\'d needed comforting until Lucian had come around, and now. . .
When Lucian had pulled him closer, and touched him more intimately- his face, his forehead- it made him tremble, and he cursed himself for it. His stomach was full of moths, or whatever metaphor people used, and he\'d never really felt that way. He wasn\'t the anxious type. But here and now. . .

Something once dead was being revived.

Trowa clung to the mug as though for his life, and reached out with his other hand to finger Lucian\'s hair. So long and fine, but so much of it- exotic. Beautiful? Trowa didn\'t understand beauty- not at all- but he was sure this was beautiful. He explored the texture, his hands unaccustomed to touching \'beautiful\' things.

He wanted to ask why- why all this- but he didn\'t dare. This was still tenuous- fragile. He didn\'t want to be clumsy and break it- lose it- already.

What was this? An attempt at comfort in return?

No matter what it was, it certainly had the effect.

Lucian leaned into the touch, letting his eyes slide shut as he swallowed hard. He wasn\'t afraid of having the hand in his hair suddenly clench and pull at it, or draw back and sweep down in a jaw-breaking blow. He didn\'t need to fear being strangled with his own locks of ebon, nor did he have to anticipate the sudden sting of skin being broken.

He shivered slightly at the strange touch being given to him. This was the sort of thing he saw human lovers do for each other.

This was the sort of thing animals did when comforting each other, becoming accustomed to the other\'s presence.

Was that what Trowa Barton saw him as? An animalistic creature after the simple pleasures of mating?

Frankly, he found himself uncaring for just that instant as the image of what it would feel like to take a partner who wasn\'t forcibly taking and harming you would be like.

What Trowa would be like.

He shivered again and slid the hand on Trowa\'s back higher, to the base of his skull, where he tipped the human\'s head back slightly while leaning forward the last few inches.

Lucian\'s lips brushed across Trowa\'s slowly as he felt the physical reaction in the human\'s body-- smelled it, tasted it. Pheromones, increased heart rate, and of course, the hand had frozen its trail through Lucian\'s hair.

He heard the mug of espresso hit the floor and stain the carpet anew, but it didn\'t break.


A kiss. Trowa hadn\'t prepared for it- hadn\'t even though of preparing for it. When it happened, he lost himself for a moment- lost his grip on himself and on the mug he\'d been clinging to. His mug- his connection to what he had, what he\'d been. Now, he felt nothing but Lucian. One hand on his back, one on his feet, lips upon his own, his own hand entangled and clutching a strand of black, black hair, his body resting upon this being\'s- his entire world at this moment was this man.

But the kiss. . .what did he do? The last time he\'d kissed someone. . .had been Heero, and he\'d been rejected. In that instance, he\'d never even though of what he was to do after that. Now. . .

Now he needed to stop thinking.

He pressed in, opening his mouth slightly to taste a bit, unsure of why he\'d do it if not for that reason. The hand that had held the mug, he brought to caress Lucian\'s chest, and neck, just following his intuition, or instincts, or whatever that wasn\'t his consciousness. He allowed himself one thought, though.

This. . .yes. I like this.

Lucian\'s own hearts were beating a little faster at the thrills racing through him. The human was not only accepting his curious advances, but he was provoking them.

The halfling\'s curiosity became boldness, and when the lips against his parted, he didn\'t wait for any more permission. His hand left Trowa\'s feet and settled on the man\'s stomach as his tongue slid between his lips and into the human\'s mouth, tasting the foul coffee as well as the human\'s flavour.

His fingers pushed at the cloth of Trowa\'s shirt until it was pulled loose from his pants, and Lucian\'s hand slipped underneath the shirt and across the rapidly warming skin, so smooth and soft.

Whatever it was they were doing, Trowa enjoyed. More than battle, more than killing, did it make his heart race and the electricity fire through his limbs. So this is what it was like to be touched- it was heady. He wondered why he\'d never allowed it before, then remembered and suppressed all the reasons- they were \'killing the mood\' as people said.

He lifted his tongue, pressing it to Lucian\'s- all slick and hot. Trowa pushed forward, pulling the tongue in deeper, fastening his and Lucian\'s lips entirely. Both hands he plunged into the mass of dark hair, one behind the being\'s head, and the other clutching spasmodically at the fine tresses. The hand on his stomach- those cool fingertips and hot palm- he arched against.

Hell.


This had gone far beyond comforting a human being. This was provoking and propositioning a human being.

The halfling knew now how it was that his father, so strict and rigid, could ever have made the first mistake of lying with a human.

From there, the second mistake was allowing his seed to enter her.

The third and worst mistake had been to allow the child growing in the woman\'s belly to thrive, rather than ripping it from her body and tearing its head from its shoulders.

Lucian lost what thoughts of his father and his own creation were bothering him as Trowa continued to respond to him eagerly, and his cheeks warmed.

Was he taking advantage of his past with the human? Was he stepping beyond the boundaries of proper conduct?

He couldn\'t care less as the human sucked on his tongue and kissed him back.

The halfling moved one of Trowa\'s legs until one small, lean thigh was on either side of Lucian\'s hips, and the human was straddling him. His hands searched the body before him eagerly but hesitantly, unsure what to do in a situation where he was the one in charge like this.

He had always been the acceptor, never the aggressor.

So, he did the same thing that would be done to him at this point-- Lucian lifted the human\'s shirt up to the top of his chest, revealing the smooth stomach, and he broke the kiss, instead pressing his lips to the smaller chest, tasting the salt of the skin with lips and tongue.

For a moment, there\'d been something wrong. Lucian had hesitated, and grown tense. Trowa was torn whether to allow this all go, or to pause to let them both regain their footing. He knew he was off balance- he had little to no control over what was happening here, and wasn\'t sure if he liked it. His body liked it- the tingles in his legs and the heat in his crotch told him so.

But his mind didn\'t want to sever that strained connection to the world around him. The coffee mug on the floor, the muddy carpet, the espresso percolating to death in the kitchen.

Lucian\'s mouth on his chest, those lips- that tongue- was haze-inducing. He had to stop thinking about. . .

Why was Lucian doing it? Trowa knew why he was doing it-because he was powerless against this lust. But Lucian. .

Did he want this, or did he simply feel obligated to his previous master?

Trowa hated himself for thinking the thought, but it had simply wormed its way to the surface.

He placed three fingers between Lucian\'s mouth and his own chest, and pushed that beautiful, hot mouth back, tilting Lucian\'s head back up so they could meet eyes. He asked his question, silently, because he simply didn\'t want to say it aloud.

Are you doing this just for my benefit?

There is no benefit on your behalf by allowing a creature like me to do these things to you, Trowa Barton. I am being entirely selfish at the moment, Lucian replied honestly, staring up at the human\'s steady gaze and wishing the fingers would be taken away so he could continue his assault on the delicious skin.

That, or at least have the fingers slide between his lips and force him to suckle them, as he was familiar with.

Instead, he waited, muscles tense.

There was no way he was going to force Trowa to do anything with him-- he wasn\'t that roused that it was a point of no return.

Certainly he was getting close, but luckily he wasn\'t there yet.

Trowa saw the honesty in his companion\'s eyes and accepted it. He wasn\'t quite sure what Lucian was getting out of this- surely not what Trowa was. All the hybrid\'s ministrations culminated in this pleasure inducing haze, but he had yet to really do anything to comfort his companion. Perhaps just the closeness. However, Trowa wanted to show. ..what? His gratitude? His interest?

Both were evident in his budding erection, which Lucian\'s had to feel pressed to his stomach.

But, he wanted to show it- if only for curiosity\'s sake.

Trowa pulled his fingers from Lucian\'s lips, and dragged them down the man\'s rather complex clothing. He pressed his palm on Lucian\'s lower abdomen, where the butterflies lived and the electricity always began, still staring into those eyes.

A gentle kiss he placed on Lucian\'s lips, and then he smiled- a real smile, as much as he could allow himself. It always felt a bit alien, but less so in this company. Pressing firmly, once more on Lucian\'s stomach, Trowa pulled his hand away. Tease? Maybe. Crossing his arms over his chest, he pulled off his shirt and dropped it on the couch next to them.

Lucian watched the display before him, the responses Trowa showed him. Even after being forewarned about what Lucian was doing to him, the human was showing that he wanted to proceed... and possibly take action himself.

As the hand pressed against his stomach once more, Lucian\'s groin came alive. Those fingers were mere inches from his wakening length, just a slight twitch away from being able to brush across it.

And then the hand was removed, as well as Trowa\'s shirt, exposing the entire upper body of this fragile creature on his lap.

Lucian\'s cheeks warmed further as his eyes widened and he suddenly lost his place in reality and linear thought.

He wasn\'t the one in charge any more-- but he certainly could provoke more out of Trowa Barton without much thought.

The halfling allowed his hands to slide across the smooth stomach before him and over the denim of his jeans, along the hips and over the folds where his thighs began. Lucian\'s right hand turned so that the fingers were facing downwards, and he pressed his palm flat at the base of the human\'s stomach, sliding it downwards until he was firmly cupping the straining bulge between Trowa\'s legs.

He moved his hand back and forth slowly over the rough denim without breaking his locked gaze with the man who had once been his master, waiting for the reaction.

Trowa realized they\'d passed the point of no return- he had no choice, now. He wondered if his facade was in tact, or if Lucian had realized that Trowa hadn\'t any clue as to what he was doing. As much as he wanted to just break free of it, he hoped to hell it was still intact- he didn\'t want Lucian\'s pity, nor did he want any coddling because of his inexperience. He just wanted. . .that hand.

He bucked against it, searching for more pressure. To steady himself, he wound his arms around Lucian\'s neck- he probably looked rather desperate, but he didn\'t care at that point.

His lips he dragged along Lucian\'s jaw, flicking his tongue out at interval, until he found one very inhuman ear, half metal with exotic piercings. He suckled the lobe, and traced the holes in flesh and studs and rings, tasting \'metallic\' for the first time that wasn\'t blood.

Lucian\'s lips parted to suck back a surprised gasp, and his hand tightened fiercely upon the bound erection in his grasp as lips and tongue played with his ear, one of his weaker points.

The breath came out in a shuddered moan as his pupils shrank to pinpoints.

Now he was at the point of no return.

A dangerous light illuminated his eyes as he unfastened the human\'s jeans quickly, near tearing them until there was only a thin layer of cloth between his searching fingers and his prize. Lucian pulled the underwear down to the base of Trowa\'s thighs as well, and his fingers brushed lightly along the newfound length before him, grazing the velvety tip softly.

Lucian swallowed hard as he took the last step and closed his fingers around the swollen shaft, drawing them back and sliding them down to the hilt slowly, gripping it tight.


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A/N: that\'s all for now. We\'re currently working on part two!