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The Soldier and the Prince	By : Raletha Category: Gundam Wing/AC > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 1004 -:- 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-The Soldier and the Prince
- 1
The Soldier and The Prince
by Raletha

R :: AU (historical? fantasy), PWP, sex :: 3x4x3
He arrived wearing leather, wool, sweat, and steel, the Soldier from a land far away, weary of the fight, which had grown more and more meaningless to him the longer he was in this foreign land. Thus had he come to the court of the young golden Prince, to see for himself what he had heard whispered only in rumour.
The Prince had wrinkled his nose at their first meeting, for the Soldier was unwashed as was the custom of his culture. It was not the custom here, and so the soldier, upon giving up his arms in surrender to the Prince's guards, was led away by silk clad youths to the palace baths.
Instinctively, the Soldier shied from the naked touches of the boys who bathed him, but not for long. This was why he had come. This land celebrated the sharing of touch between men. He thought upon the fair nobility of the Prince, and hoped he would be accepted.
"You are beautiful," the Prince told him at their second meeting. Now the Soldier wore silk and perfume and jewels at his throat. The metal and gems felt strange and heavy resting at his pulse, and the gossamer fabric of his trousers floated about his legs like a gentle wind. "You wish to join my court?" the Prince asked.
"Yes," answered the Soldier with a deep bow of his head.
"You wish to come to my bed?" the Prince asked.
"Yes," the Soldier answered, his voice but a trembling whisper. "For I am weary of war and ready to learn your ways of peace and pleasure."
"Then I shall teach you," said the Prince.
In the Prince's private chambers the amber light of the lamps throbbed with the sweetly scented breeze from the palace gardens. The Prince's summer bedroom lay wide open, to invite the cooling of the desert night's air.
"Jasmine," the prince answered when the Soldier asked what flower gave such a fair odour.
With a smile, the Prince brought to the bed a glass vial of an oil, scented also with jasmine. The Soldier lay back among the satin cushions and the Prince rubbed the oil into his skin. The Prince touched him everywhere with his slick, perfumed fingers, and the Soldier reveled in his surrender to the Prince's touch.
An oiled hand slipped about the Soldier's stiff sex, smoothed knowing strokes over its length, until the Soldier was arching into the Prince's hand, pleading in meaningless syllables for his release. The Prince shook his head with a smile: not yet. "There's more for you to learn than this," he said.
"What else is there?" asked the Soldier.
"I will open you," said the Prince, "and then fill you where you have been so empty, I will fill with my own flesh."
"Yes," said the Soldier, though he did not understand the full meaning of the Prince's words, they resonated with him deeply, as deeply as the Prince then touched him.
"You must breathe," said the Prince, "and relax."
The Soldier heard the words, and he understood them, but the rawness of sensation swamped him. Inside, the Prince was touching him inside, where none did touch. None till now.
Strange was the touch, visceral too. "Open your legs more," instructed the Prince. One hand guided the Soldier's thighs open: knees bent, legs pulled up to his chest, pelvis canted.
There was pleasure, an edge of something in that touch played along his nerves like a fiddler's bow to his strings. "Yes," said the Soldier; it was the only word he could remember of the Prince's language.
Then the Prince filled him further, with his flesh as he has promised. His sex, glistening with oil, he guided to the place he had opened within the Soldier. It was, the Soldier knew, a forbidden thing in his culture. But he welcomed the Prince into his body with open eyes.
The Soldier succumbed to aching stretch and pressure, friction and fill, and the Prince was embedded in his very bowels.
"Yes," said the Soldier again.
The Prince moved, rocking his hips slowly--to savour, he said, their first joining. His lips brushed across the Soldier's, not quite a kiss, and then with a dip of his fair head, his tongue flicked over the Soldier's pulse and scooped up the jewels at his throat.
With sweat slicking his palms, the Soldier grasped at the prince's shoulders, and he remembered another word: "More," and another, "Please."
More he was given, until his entire body bleared and buzzed with sensation, he could no longer contain the pleasure, and he found his climax, sweet and pure as the first time.

After, they went to the bath together, but the Prince summoned no attendants. They washed each other. And the Prince asked the Soldier, "I am known as Quatre Raberba Winner. What is your name? "
The Soldier did not have a name of his own, but he had one borrowed from another man, a man whom he had fought beside until that man died. The Soldier had taken the name to remember his comrade. "You may call me Trowa," said the Soldier.
"Trowa," said Quatre, and smiled. "I am glad you came."

the end

Serendipity
- 1
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The Soldier and the Prince

The Soldier and The Prince