Overture

Overture
by Raletha

Disclaimer: Mobile Suit Gundam Wing is copyrighted to Bandai, Sunrise, and The Sotsu Agency.

The first time I recognised this desire within myself was a day Quatre and I were shopping for a new dining room suite. I had left him browsing among tables and chairs while I found the store\'s restrooms. When I returned to the dining furniture department, I spotted Quatre before he saw my return.

I saw him talking with a young salesman—a young, attractive salesman, I noticed. They weren\'t just talking either. The young man was flirting with Quatre, and Quatre—judging by his smile and posture was not only flattered, but returning the attention. It wasn\'t anything overt or obscene—just harmless smiling and head tilts and lingering eye contact, but it arrested my progress back to my partner. I wanted to watch them.

I wasn\'t jealous. Not at all. Quite the opposite; it actually turned me on a little, to see someone else wanting Quatre, and to see Quatre blushing under his attention. I watched them make their way over to a particular table, one I\'d said to Quatre I liked, and it looked like the sales clerk was now giving Quatre his pitch. With my hands in my pockets, I strolled back to Quatre, smiled at him and smiled at the clerk, who was still handsome up close. Of Indian descent, he had a musical accent and beautiful dark eyes. The warm brown of his skin I thought would look striking against the pale of Quatre\'s.

That was the first time I thought about watching Quatre with another man.


When we got home that day, it didn\'t take me long to coax Quatre to his bedroom. I fucked him on the floor in front of his dressing room mirror. I watched his face and pretended that my body belonged to the young man from the furniture store, and that I was watching him fuck Quatre.

It was an intense orgasm—for both of us. But afterward, I felt like a pervert, like I\'d betrayed Quatre, even if only within my mind. I put such things from my thoughts for a time, refused to let my fantasies go in that direction. At least I tried.


My resolve held about a week, until one night when Quatre and I were lying on the couch together reading. It was the same day the new table and chairs had been delivered. He set aside his book and simply said to me, without preamble, \"You like to watch me, don\'t you.\"

I put down the magazine I was reading and sat up against the arm of the sofa. I studied him, leaning against the opposite arm, tried to understand what it was he\'d just told me I liked.

He stroked my bare ankle with chilly fingertips. \"Sexually. You like to watch me. Like with the mirror. And, uh, when I was masturbating in the shower yesterday.\"

I could feel my eyes widen. I didn\'t know he knew about the shower watching. It had happened more or less accidentally, but yes, I had enjoyed watching him.

\"It\'s okay. I knew you were there, but I pretended I didn\'t.\" He smiled. \"It really turned me on.\"

\"Yeah?\" That was all I could say. My embarrassment was too tangled up with relief for eloquence.

\"Yeah,\" Quatre affirmed as he leaned forward, crawled over me, and kissed me hotly. When the kiss ended, he asked, \"Would you like to watch me again?\"


A few minutes later and I was. Watching him again.

Quatre knelt on the bed wearing only a half unbuttoned dress shirt, with his thighs splayed, facing me, as I sat in the room\'s armchair paralysed not only by the naked eroticism of Quatre\'s performance, but also by my lingering feelings of perversion. The relief of knowing that Quatre liked me to watch him hadn\'t been quite enough to assuage my discomfort of wanting to. And I thought about the Indian shop clerk again. For a moment I imagined him kneeling behind Quatre, pretended it was his hands manipulating Quatre into pleasure.

I wondered if Quatre ever fantasized about things like that:  someone not me touching him.

On the bed, he turned around and shifted to his hands and knees. He showed me himself stroking the lubricant around his anus. My gaze fixed on his fingers as they pushed inside him, preparing him to receive the butt plug he favoured.

\"What are you thinking about?\" I asked him as he poised the toy at his opening and started to push it in. The black rubber shone darkly against his skin as his body swallowed it.

\"Hmm,\" he started, not a thoughtful sound, but a pleasured one. \"You,\" he murmured, casting a glance over his shoulder at me; his fingers slipped from the base of the plug to fondle his testicles. \"Your eyes on me. Makes me feel sexy.\"

\"You are sexy,\" I said. I tightened my grip on the chair\'s arms and stretched my legs, letting the pull of muscles ease the ache in my groin. I didn\'t want to touch myself though; I only wanted to watch Quatre.

\"Do you ever...?\" I started in a rush, and then stopped. His eyes had slipped shut with a gasp. His head was still turned my way, so I could see his lips form the gasp, moist, flushed. Wanton.

\"Do I ever...?\" he prompted, without opening his eyes.

\"Think about someone else.\" I sat up and leaned forward as Quatre shifted again, lowering himself to one elbow and arching his back, his ass high in the air, his cock and balls suspended heavily between his spread legs as he palmed them. \"Fucking you. Someone else fucking you,\" I said.

He didn\'t reply immediately, just moved his hand to wrap his fingers around his shaft.

\"Sometimes,\" he whispered as he stroked himself. \"Sometimes,\" he said again, even more softly.

\"I think about it too,\" I admitted.

\"Me?\" he asked, \"Or you?\"

\"You. Watching you with someone else.\"

He didn\'t speak, but he released himself and moved back to his hands and knees.

I kept talking. I wanted to tell him now, wanted him to understand even if I didn\'t. \"You\'re so... the way you are when you\'re turned on, or when I fuck you. I love watching you.\"

Quatre turned halfway back around, to look at me, and sat back on his heels. All his attention was on me now. \"You want to watch someone else fuck me?\"

His tone was unreadable. There was—at least—no incredulity or offense, but nevertheless, I hesitated for several breaths. Then I gave into the inevitability of his gaze, and I nodded.

\"Yeah?\" Quatre said with a suddenly shy but very genuine smile.

I smiled then too, the shame dissipating into both Quatre\'s smile and my present arousal.

\"We could,\" he offered carefully, softly, while meeting my gaze and holding my smile. \"We could, if you want, do that sometime.\" He stretched out a hand to me, and I joined him on the bed.


the end