Glide

Glide

Characters/Pairing: Quatre/Trowa (ish)
Rating: M/R
Warnings: cross-dressing, masturbation, language
Notes: Written for The Gundam Wing Anonymous Kink Meme. Possibly set in the same universe as "So Bright".
Prompt: "quatre's crossdressing fantasies."


It had started innocently enough, when he was no more than six years old; Quatre remembered. He'd liked to watch Mireille - the last of his sisters who had lived at home - when she got ready to go out. All the colorful makeup, the pretty tubes of glimmering lipstick, the bottles of fragrance, and the soft rainbow palettes of eyeshadow. She would sit in her satin slip at her dressing table, and he would perch on the end of her bed and they'd talk. He'd ask her questions about the makeup or what she was going to wear, and she'd answer him. Sometimes, if he were lucky, she'd put a little lipstick or rouge on him. She'd even once given him one of her old silk chemise's to sleep in, because she knew how he loved the feel of it. It had been a rose petal pink and Quatre had slept in it until the straps had worn out.

He wasn't six now. Home alone tonight, Quatre had retrieved his box from the back of the closet. In it was his makeup. He took his time in the bathroom making up his face. The garter belt and stockings were difficult to fasten, but worth the effort. He wore them now, with a new rose pink chemise and matching satin panties. All it had taken was dressing thus to make his cock hard. It rarely bothered him anymore that this turned him on, what had began as an innocent time spent between siblings. It wasn't about Mireille. It was about feeling so pretty. He loved the way his eyes looked shadowed and lined, how the mascara transformed his pale, nearly invisible lashes to a dramatic sweep. He loved the feel of the lip stick on his lips. Most of all, the slippery slide of the satin and silk, the tug of the garters when he moved his legs, made him feel pretty - not to mention decadent and indulgent. After a week spent choked by ties and enveloped in three piece suits, this made him feel free.

He sprawled on the sofa with a glass of chilled Riesling and Some Like it Hot in the vid player. He didn't really watch the movie. It was familiar enough to him now that he played it more to set a mood than to entertain himself. The entertainment was his hands on his own body. Beneath the satin and silk, his body felt different. With the glide of the fabric between his fingers and his skin, his touch felt different too. He took his time, slowly exploring his upper body with both hands; his gaze, unfocused beneath lowered eyelids, upon the television screen; his legs spread wide, feet braced against the ottoman. His hands moved lower.

Sometimes he'd think about what would happen if Trowa came home and found him like this: working his hands over the satin covering his cock and so wrapped up in sensation that he wouldn't hear the front door. Quatre wouldn't hear the footsteps or see Trowa standing in the dark, flashes of illumination of the television painting him in black and white. He wouldn't see the hunger growing in Trowa's gaze as it crawled over him. Oblivious to his audience, Quatre would move one hand lower and finger himself through the panties, pressing and rubbing the slippery material against his hole, whimpering as he rubbed his cock too.

He wouldn't hear Trowa come near. The next thing he'd know would be Trowa's voice and hands and mouth. He'd say how pretty and sexy Quatre was, how much he wanted him. Trowa's hands would glide over the satin and turn him over and around. He'd rim Quatre through the panties until the fabric was sodden and clinging and Quatre was begging. Trowa wouldn't undress him. He'd just pull the panties to the side, rub his cock slick against Quatre's entrance and then breach him with one smooth push...

Quatre gasped as he climaxed, and the fantasy shattered. He told himself, as he always did, perhaps next time he'd arrange it so he'd be caught.

the end