Adult-FanFiction.org : Gundam, Beyblade, DBZ, FMA

Accelerando a Piacere	By : Maureen Category: Gundam Wing/AC > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 2061 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- 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-Accelerando a Piacere
- 1
Accelerando a Piacere

Pairings:
3x4

Rating:
Uber- NC-17

Disclaimer:
I must have been having an acid flashback when I wrote this.

Warnings:
Supersadistic!Trowa, misuse of sex toys, mild humiliation, sex in a public
place, and, oh yeah, a wee bit of spanking. O.o Also, Quatre swears once or
twice, and the dreaded "C" word is used, but this kind of fic just
calls for that.

Notes:
As stated above, much of the credit for this lies with Anne. She gave me the
title, and also acted as a musical reference. And she begged me to write it.
Anne additionally took beta duties for this one, because I was far too ashamed
to ask Kay to do so. Thanks, I think, Anne ^_~ Also, this does not fall into the
"Sabintha" universe. It�s just a totally random, utterly perverse
PWP. No possible excuses could exist.

Quatre checked his hair in the mirror a final
time, flicking at his wayward bangs. His eyes strayed to the reflection of his
tall lover, leaning casually against the end of their four-poster bed and
looking much too scrumptious in the form-fitting black suit he wore.
"Trowa? We don�t have to go to this � it�s just for appearance�s
sake�"

"No, Quatre. I really don�t mind.
They�re naming the place after you � how could you not go?" In the
spirit of civic betterment, Quatre had donated a large amount of money to the
L-4 symphony orchestra. So much money, in fact, that instead of repairing the
aging building that once housed it, the symphony had constructed a majestic new
one � the Winner Symphony Hall. Tonight was the grand opening gala, and Quatre
was expected to attend so he could be properly honored. Truthfully, he found the
flood of praises that met his charitable donations to be more than embarrassing
in their excesses.

"But first, come here. I have something
that might make the evening a bit more interesting for us both."

Quatre turned to face him, and felt an
unaccustomed jolt of panic at the glint of something almost dangerous darkening
Trowa�s eyes. He hesitated a bit, but mentally berated himself. This was Trowa,
what was there to be nervous about? Trowa, who had been by his side for the five
years since the Eve War had ended. Trowa, who had steadfastly supported him
through every crisis since. Trowa, who loved him and had loved him in ways that
Quatre had never dreamed possible� Shaking away his apprehension, Quatre moved
to stand next to his lover.

Trowa swiped away the stubborn strands of
hair from Quatre�s eyes and smiled warmly down at him. He then ran his hands
down Quatre�s shoulders, to the end of his arms to grasp his hands. After
giving a little squeeze, Trowa bent down to deliver a kiss that left Quatre
dazed in its wake. "Trowa�. We really don�t have to go�"

Trowa simply laughed in that certain full way
that always melted Quatre�s knees. After sitting down on the side of the bed,
he moved his hands to Quatre�s waist. Assuming that this was the initiation of
an embrace, Quatre started to step forward, but was stopped by a tightening
hold. "Trowa?"

"Shhh. And stand still." Trowa
swiftly undid the belt and the fastenings on Quatre�s pants and pulled both
them and the boxers underneath them to Quatre�s knees. "Now, just bend
over here." Trowa patted his lap.

Quatre�s eyes widened and his cheeks
flushed. Bend over Trowa�s knees? Surely he didn�t mean to� The thought
was snapped off by the hand that clamped around his wrist and pulled him off
balance into the ordered position. Trowa brushed aside the tails of Quatre�s
dark gray jacket, exposing his buttocks, and raised one knee slightly so they
were tilted higher. The air on his newly exposed skin sent a wisp of a shiver
through Quatre, a wisp that was strengthened by the implications of the position
in which he found himself. Instinctively, he moved his hands back to cover his
tender flesh, but Trowa caught them both easily and pinned them to the small of
Quatre�s back with one hand. The other stroked lightly over the pert curve of
Quatre�s ass. "You know, I�d never thought of this before," Trowa
commented conversationally. He pressed his thigh against Quatre�s rapidly
hardening shaft. "But it seems as though you may have."

This was all the warning Quatre received. The
caressing hand stopped its gentle movement, lifted off, and returned with a
sharp slap. Quatre jerked, and when the action was repeated, his startled yelp
devolved into a low moan. "Has my Quatre been a naughty boy?" Three
more stinging blows were delivered in rapid succession, and then Trowa stopped,
soothingly rubbing the injured areas. "Yes, it was naughty of you to
distract me. But that will have to be enough punishment for now. I have a
present for you." Trowa released Quatre�s wrists. He reached into his
jacket pocket and brought out a small device with he held in front of Quatre�s
face. "Have you ever seen one of these before, love?" It was a
cylindrical, oblong shaft of metal, no bigger than Quatre�s thumb, with a
twelve inch black cord hanging from one end.

"Nuh-no." Quatre�s answered,
shifting slightly to bring greater contact between his now aching erection and
Trowa�s leg. "Wha- what is it?"

"You�re about to find out." Trowa
laid the object on the bed and reached back into his pocket to pull out a small
tube of lubricant. After squeezing a generous dollop onto his forefinger, he
used one hand to part Quatre�s enflamed cheeks and inserted his finger
carefully into Quatre, thoroughly spreading the moisture all around. He then
picked up the shiny thing, and after applying a bit more of the lube to it, slid
it neatly past the ring of muscle guarding Quatre�s entrance. "You can
stand up, now. And pull your pants back up."

Quatre quietly complied with the command,
easing his boxers over the throbbing flesh of his buttocks and the almost
painful stiffness of his cock, wiggling slightly around the minute internal
pressure as he did so. It wasn�t large enough to chafe, or even to arouse.
Instead of the fullness he felt from being impaled on Trowa, this sensation was
but the mildest tickle. Quatre was perplexed, and it must have shown.

"Curious?"

Quatre nodded in reply. Trowa merely smirked
and went into the bathroom to clean the remaining lube from his fingers. He came
back to flushed blond - one hand resting in his pocket and the other tangled
into the hair at the back of Quatre�s neck - to deliver a searing kiss. From
within, Quatre felt a small thrumming sensation that intensified while their
tongue play continued. As Trowa pulled away, Quatre was forced to cling to him,
legs made totally nerveless by the relentless vibrations the device was
delivering. "Umm, oh- ah! What is that, Trowa?"

"Just a little something I picked up
when I was in Japan a few weeks ago. Do you like it?"

Quatre eyes crossed as he gave a feeble nod.
Trowa�s lapels were quickly being twisted into a wrinkled wreck from the
convulsive grip Quatre had on them. "How � AH!" The vibrator began
to pulse in a measured beat � first falling still and then jumping back to
life in a regular tempo.

Trowa took his hand from his left pocket and
opened it to display a tiny control module. "Remote control � over twenty
different settings of intensity. Thirty patterns." His fingers danced over
the buttons to demonstrate, and he brought his other arm up to keep Quatre from
collapsing entirely. "And nine speeds. An infinite variety of combinations
to choose from." He repocketed the control after setting it at a steady,
slow buzz. "Now we�re ready to go."

Quatre pulled away in horror, but failed at
his attempt to stand without assistance. Trowa�s arms enfolded him before he
crumpled to the floor. "Like this? No, Trowa � you can�t be
serious!"

"Oh, but I am, my Quatre." He
shifted his arm around Quatre�s shoulders and steered them from the room and
to the limo waiting at the front of the house. "I know how you hate
attending public performances of music." Quatre did � he felt too exposed
to be properly swept away in the company of strangers. "And I know that you
hate being fawned over by grateful recipients of your charity even more."
He pulled Quatre onto his lap and held him close after the chauffer shut the
door. "So I thought I might make the whole experience just a bit more
pleasant for you."

The ride was sublimely hellacious. Only
Quatre�s whimpering and Trowa�s soothing exhalations broke the silence in
the enclosed passenger compartment as seemingly every possible combination of
settings for the vibrator was explored. With both hands pinned behind his back
by one of Trowa�s, Quatre could provide himself with no relief. And Trowa knew
too well how to read the tightening of Quatre�s thighs, the suspension of his
breathing, and the clenching of his fists to allow Quatre to come any closer
than the edge of an orgasm. He repeatedly stopped the device to prevent any
release, and by time they reached the Hall, Quatre was torn between cursing him
and praising him. His only consolation was that the solid proof that Trowa was
torturing himself as well, and he sought what little retaliation he could �
shifting his weight to torment the erection pressing against his hip.

Quatre had begun to suspect that Trowa was
evil in the limo, and as they moved slowly through the crowded lobby, he became
fully convinced. Several times well-wishers, community leaders, and fellow
patrons of the arts stopped them. Each time this occurred, Trowa would turn the
vibrations to their highest, most intense setting, leaving Quatre to stammer
through meaningless niceties and pleasantries. More than once, the person he was
conversing with would comment on Quatre�s flushed and dazed appearance, or
inquire after his health. Trowa, the ideal picture of a concerned and solicitous
partner, would reply. "He�s just a little overworked. An evening at the
symphony should be the perfect cure."

It seemed an eternity to Quatre before the
doors of the auditorium swung open and people slowly began to make their way to
the seats. Trowa took his elbow and escorted him to the place that had been
reserved especially for them in the middle of the front row. As Quatre sat, the
vibrator worked deeper in, coming to rest flush with his prostate. Quatre could
barely contain the shout that threatened to burst forth. "Trowa," he
hissed as his devious partner nonchalantly regulated the control to deliver
sharp, sudden bursts. The effect was instantly too much. Quatre tried twitching
and wiggling around to no avail, the device would not budge. He bit his tongue
to stifle a cry as the mayor plopped down next to him.

"Mr. Winner!! I�m sure you�re as
excited as the rest of us about tonight�s concert." You have no idea,
thought Quatre miserable as the pattern changed yet again, thankfully this time
to a fainter pulsation. "I hear you�re quite the musician yourself. I�d
love to see you perform sometime."

"Oh, yes. Quatre�s performances are
something you�ll never forget after having seen one," Trowa said. A
strong, abrupt surge had Quatre clutching at the seat arms as he turned to glare
at Trowa. He was met with the most innocent expression possible.

"AH! My dear Trowa�s being too modest,
" Quatre told the balding, rotund man. "He�s quite dexterous on the
� oh! flute, himself." Sweat broke out on Quatre�s brow, and he could
feel trickles of it worming their way down the back of his neck.

"Are you all right, Mr. Winner? You look
a bit warm." He offered Quatre a handkerchief, which he gratefully took to
hide his panting under the pretext of mopping his face. "It is a bit too
hot in here. Perhaps I�ll just go and suggest they turn the heat down a
bit." The mayor rose and took his leave with a nod of his head.

"Yes, turn it down!" Quatre
pleaded. Trowa�s smile was far too smug as he turned it up, instead. "I
hope you realize that I�ll be getting revenge on you for this,
eventually."

"I�m counting on it."

Quatre continued to try and suppress the urge
to squirm in his seat as the hall steadily filled around them. The mayor
returned with his wife on his arm, and as custom dictated, Quatre rose to greet
her. Trowa surreptitiously supported him as respects were exchanged and steadied
Quatre as he sank back down.

"There, there, Mr. Winner. They�ve
adjusted the climate controls. You should begin to feel a bit better in a few
moments." The mayor patted his arm as the lights began to dim.

"I�m quite sure he�s feeling better
already. Thank you," Trowa said. The tremors came to a halt for a brief
moment; lulling Quatre into believing his lover had finally taken pity on him.
Soon, however, it became apparent that Trowa had not - a pattern of forceful
pulsations broken by five-second intervals began to play out.

The conductor stepped out onto the darkened
stage, highlighted by a single footlight. He droned on for a few minutes in
praise of their kind benefactor. At the end of the speech, Quatre was pinpointed
by a spotlight and forced to again stand, this time without the benefit of
Trowa�s reinforcing arm. He shot his sadistic lover a desperate look. He was
rewarded with a constant quaking for his pains, and he quavered his way through
a wobbly bow before collapsing back into his seat with a broken moan.

"If I didn�t love you so much, I�d
hate you right now!" Quatre whispered fiercely in his companion�s ear.
Trowa merely raised an eyebrow and flicked a finger in the direction of the
stage. The lights dimmed entirely, and the music began, Beethoven�s Symphony
no 1 in C Major � Opus 21. It was a piece that Quatre generally enjoyed, but
he found it impossible to concentrate. Trowa was now manipulating the control so
the vibrator pulsed in time with the rise and fall of the notes, Quatre his
instrument as he accompanied the talented members of the orchestra. The mayor
looked over several times in concern as Quatre unsuccessfully tried not to
fidget, but the skillful way in which Trowa read and relayed every signal of the
conductor�s baton was rapidly proving to be more than he could handle.
Thankfully, the swell of the music camouflaged the whimpers that he could not
suppress, but by the time the piece came to an end, Quatre was a quivering mess.

There was a brief respite as Trowa joined the
rest of the audience in their applause. But as the first strains of the Summer
movement from Vivaldi�s Four Seasons sounded, Quatre was again plunged into
this most exquisite torment. A complementing throbbing deep within met each
rising crescendo of the violin. As the strains began to climb with passionate
intensity, Trowa followed suit. Higher and higher the notes spiraled, and harder
and harder the vibrator shook within him. Quatre felt the chair arms splinter
under his white-knuckled hands, and his thighs trembled uncontrollably. The
keening that Quatre could no longer quietly contain matched the music, and each
time a subdued portion of the score was reached, the noise became plainly
audible to those around them. Quatre was shushed more than once, and when he
tried to sink down in horrified mortification, the vibrator pressed even closer
to his plagued prostate. The final powerful assent of notes brought Quatre
teetering to the very edge of a mind-blowing orgasm, which was snatched from him
by the end of both the music and the stimulation. As this last potent torrent of
playing faded away, Quatre�s loud groan of frustration at his denied release
was only partially concealed by the thunderous clapping. A short intermission
was scheduled, and people began to file out and mill around, several shooting
him mildly curious looks as they passed.

"Mr. Winner!! Please, sir, if you�re
not feeling well, perhaps you should take your leave." Quatre had slumped
forward in his seat, eyes squeezed shut and hips poised at the edge of the chair
as he desperately tried to slow his ragged breathing. The mayor continued with
obvious concern. "I�m sure everyone would be most understanding. After
all, your health is far more important than any social obligation."

The mayor�s wife, a plump but dignified
matron, knelt down in front of Quatre and placed a ring-laden hand on his
forehead. She turned to Trowa. "You�re young yet, so I�m sure you
don�t quite appreciate your duty as the mate of a powerful man. He�s so busy
caring for everyone else, that he forgets to take care of himself � so you
must do it for him." She ruffled Quatre�s bangs and lightly stroked his
cheek. He cracked one eye to see how Trowa was taking this advice, and snorted
softly at the bemused expression on Trowa�s face. "Just like my Harvey,
overworking himself to the point of exhaustion! It�s a mostly thankless job,
young man. But you must remind yourself that none of the great men of history
would have been half as influential or successful without someone watching over
them with tender concern from the shadows."

"Yes, ma�am, you�re right. I think I
will take him home now. Quatre�s had quite enough excitement for one
night." Trowa appeared suitably chastised as the woman beamed her approval
at him.

She motioned to one of the ushers and the
youth swiftly approached. "Please escort Mr. Winner and his companion out
one of the back exits. Mr. Winner is unwell, but doesn�t wish to disturb
anyone�s evening or cause a fuss."

"If that�s the end of tonight�s
excitement, you�re going to go a very long time without any excitement
of your own, darling!" Quatre hissed as Trowa bent over him to help
him rise. Trowa smiled sweetly at Quatre and dipped his hand back into his left
pocket. Quatre stumbled and lurched against him as the vibrations renewed.

"Oh dear me, he is exhausted,
isn�t he?" Mrs. Harvey cooed. "But I can tell you�ll take good
care of him! It warms my heart to see two young people so obviously in
love!"

Quatre managed to mumble goodbye, and with
Trowa�s support stumbled after the usher. They were escorted around the left
curve of the stage, and a casually concealed door was opened to reveal a long,
dark hallway. "This takes you directly to the back exit � straight down
there. I�ll go and call the chauffeurs� pool and tell your man where to meet
you."

The corridor was cool and dim, and as the
door shut behind them with an echoing clang, the noise from the auditorium faded
out entirely. With one hand braced on the wall beside him, Quatre resolutely
shuffled his way towards the exit, refusing to even look at Trowa.

"You�re so quiet, love. Is anything
wrong?" Trowa buzzed him relentlessly.

"Oh, no, dear. Nothing�s wrong at all.
I�m simply trying to think of the best way to return your little favor,"
Quatre gritted. "Right now a hot sauce enema is pretty high on my list of
possibilities."

Trowa pinned him to the wall by his
shoulders. He leaned over to breathe in Quatre�s ear. "What a wonderful
way to show you care."

"Pervert."

Trowa worked one thigh between Quatre�s
buckling knees and brushed it much too lightly against the hardness there.
"And that�s why you love me so much."

Quatre threw himself forward onto the teasing
leg and rubbed shamelessly against it. Twisting his hands tightly around
Trowa�s lapels, he pulled him down. "One of the reasons," he gasped
before silencing himself against Trowa�s lips.

Trowa�s tongue wrapped around Quatre�s as
the blond writhed against him. He broke off with a shudder, bracing his forehead
against Quatre�s. "Do you have any idea how amazingly hot you looked,
losing control in there like that?"

"Show me."

Quatre was already unfastening Trowa�s
pants. "Here? Can�t you wait until we get to the car?"

"No." Trowa�s cock twitched in
Quatre�s grasp.

"Now?"

"Now!!" There was a shadowy niche
about twenty yards further down the hall and Quatre led Trowa there without
releasing him. "Either now, or not for a long, long time!"

Trowa growled and pushed him into the shallow
space, obviously meant to hold coats or costumes on the steel bar running its
length. His hands fumbled with Quatre�s button, and it fell to the floor. He
roughly tore the pants down and spun Quatre around to face the wall. "Hold
on to this." Trowa wrapped Quatre�s hands around the pole.
"Perfect." Trowa bit down on the curve of Quatre�s bowed neck, and
then muttered, "Thank God I put the lube back in my pocket."

Quatre could hear Trowa scrabbling to coat
himself. "Take that thing out of me first."

"Are you sure?" Trowa�s head was
already nudging into him. "That�s what the long cord�s for."

"YES!! I�m sure � get that damn
thing out of me and fuck me NOW!"

"God, I love it when I can make you talk
dirty�" Trowa yanked it out and then plunged himself in with one sharp
shove.

Quatre�s yell of surprise tapered off into
a lingering moan that was repeated as Trowa vigorously thrust into him. Each
stroke lifted him to the tips of his toes, and using the bar as leverage, he
pushed back to meet Trowa. One arm wrapped tightly around his chest, and
Trowa�s other hand came up to cover Quatre�s mouth and muffle the now steady
stream of screams. He hissed a broken mantra into Quatre�s ear as he pounded
him relentlessly. "So good� oh god, so good�"

They were both so far gone that neither of
them heard the footsteps approaching until they had almost reached the niche.
Trowa stopped abruptly as a voice called out. "Mr. Winner? Sirs? Is
everything all right?" The voice came to a halt directly behind them.
"Oh, there you are! The chauffeur was getting a bit worried. Can I help you
out to the car?"

"No!! There�s no ne-eee-eed."
Trowa�s slurred voice cracked as Quatre began to rhythmically clench around
him. He nudged forward involuntarily. "Quatre was just feeling a bit faint.
Why don�t you go and tell the driver we�ll be there in a minute."
Quatre began to squirm against him, and the pants that had up until now remained
high on Trowa�s thighs suddenly drooped down to his knees.

"Ah! I see, sirs. I�ll just
leave you to handle this on your own. Unless, of course, you�d care for some,
ahem, assistance?" Quatre sniggered into Trowa�s hand at the amused tone
lacing the usher�s voice.

"No. That�ll be fine � I think I can
handle it from here." Quatre squeezed again, and laughed a little harder as
Trowa twitched deep inside.

"Well, if you�re absolutely
sure�" The usher lingered.

"YES! I�m sure!" Trowa lifted his
head from Quatre�s back to stare over his shoulder. Quatre almost felt sorry
for the young man � he could tell without seeing that Trowa was giving his
darkest glare. "And we don�t need an audience."

"Yes sir!" The youth quickly
scuttled away, no doubt to escape the cold fire in Trowa�s eyes.

Quatre�s laughter quickly turned into
gasping shouts as Trowa resumed the previous pace of deep plunges as if they had
been uninterrupted. Each burning stroke pushed him closer and closer to the edge
he had been wavering on for the entire evening. The pistoning snap of Trowa�s
hips accelerated to an unbearable blur. Thickly invaded and helplessly pinned,
Quatre howled in ecstatic agony as his orgasm ripped through him. Trowa managed
to withstand the fluctuating crush of Quatre�s over-taxed muscles for only a
short while longer before he came with a snarl that echoed the lengths of the
hall and bounced back. His hand slipped from Quatre�s mouth to grasp at the
bar for support, and pulled the now boneless and trembling Quatre closer to
prevent a collapse.

"See?" Trowa panted through his
struggle for air. "I told you this would be a pleasurable evening."

Somehow they managed to dress themselves with
a minimum of fumbling. A small glint of metal on the floor caught Quatre�s
eye, and Trowa followed his gaze. They both dove for it at the same time, but
Quatre was triumphant. "There�s no way you�re getting this thing
back." He pocketed it swiftly. "Are we ready to go? Did we get
everything?"

Trowa glanced quickly around and gestured
towards the damp patch on the wall and began to laugh. "Well, it seems
you�ve christened the place properly, Master Winner."

Quatre reached up to smack him lightly on the
back of the head. "That�s about enough out of you for one night. Help me
to the car, you heartless sadist."

Quatre was given Trowa�s arm, which he
gracefully accepted as he hobbled down to the exit. The chauffeur was waiting
for them with an arch expression that turned into a smirk as he took in their
disheveled appearance. "If you�ll allow me the indulgence of my
forwardness, I wanted you to know that I will not be opening the door for
you gentlemen upon arrival at the house."

Trowa snickered and wrapped Quatre in a loose
embrace after they had tumbled onto the leather seat. Quatre grumbled and
snuggled into his arms, resting his head on Trowa�s shoulder. As the drive
home finally began, Quatre only had the strength to mutter, "Just you wait,
Trowa Barton, just you wait."
- 1
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Accelerando a Piacere