Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Contemplation Indigo ❯ An Understanding ( Chapter 12 )

An Understanding

By DRL

I'm standing in the doorway watching Trowa getting changed. He loosens the knot of his tie, yanks it over his head and throws it over the back of a chair. He then unfastens the first few buttons at the neck of his shirt, then those at the cuffs, pulls the tails free of the waist of his pants, and the shirt then goes the way of the tie, off over his head and across the back of the chair. He then turns to face me, arms akimbo and, to coin a rather coarse phrase of Duo's, I almost cream my pants. He is dressed only in pants, belt, shoes and socks, and as I feast my eyes on the smooth, sun-bronzed skin of his absolutely perfect body, I wonder whether a finer specimen of manhood exists on this planet.

He has been talking to me as he undresses, telling me about a meeting he had attended today, hence the formal attire. Trowa does so hate formal wear and never wears a tie unless he absolutely has to. He is now waiting for my response to what he has been saying. Despite having been drooling over his body, I have taken in every word and am ready with a reply.

"You did absolutely the right thing my love." I tell him.

His beautiful face breaks into a beaming smile and his emerald green eyes sparkle with obvious pleasure at my approval. No, I conclude, there can be no other. My husband is surely the most magnificent being on earth and the colonies. I can resist it no longer, I simply have to touch him. I cross the short distance between us to stand before him, looking up at him as I have to since he is a good six inches and then some taller than I am. Maintaining eye contact, I place my palms lightly on the smooth plane of his stomach and move them slowly upward towards his chest, relishing the feel of the firm musculature beneath the silken skin. Moving ever upwards, my palms cross the darker aureoles of his nipples. Much as I would like to, I do not linger here since my aim is not to arouse him but to satisfy my own craving for touch. I move my hands steadily upward, across his lean shoulders, finally clasping my hungry fingers at the nape of his swan-like neck. He in turn places his arms loosely about my waist and draws me to him, not tightly but gently so that our bodies are in contact, but only lightly. You see, he knows exactly what it is that I need, he always does. He knows how to read and interpret my subtlest signal and he reacts accordingly. On another occasion, what would appear to be the same gestures on my part would result in a quick, rough coupling on the floor, but not today. Trowa knows, Trowa always knows.

"Do you think so?" He says, referring once again to the meeting and engulfing me in that mesmerising emerald gaze.

"Yes, I do," I respond, "But then you always do the right thing." I tear my eyes from his and lay my head on his chest, once again just relishing the touch of him, the feel of him, the smell of him, drinking him in with all of my senses.

All of a sudden a most unwelcome thought comes to my mind unbidden. What would I do if I no longer had my Trowa? I push it immediately from my mind, but the thought, albeit fleeting, causes within me a frisson of abject terror. I hold Trowa just that little bit closer.

"What's the matter darling?" He asks, a subtle note of alarm entering his voice, "Are you alright?"

See what I mean? I said nothing and did almost nothing, but he picked up on my mood and emotions immediately. And I am supposed to be the empath! Like I say, he reads me like a book.

"I'm fine my love." I reply.

"Are you sure?" He asks, still concerned. He runs a hand up and down my back in a soothing gesture.

I nod my head against his chest, fully aware of how ambiguous the gesture is, a nod feeling exactly the same as a shake to him, given our relative positions. I suddenly raise my head and look up at him.

"Trowa, I love you." I say earnestly, almost desperately, as if the declaration would somehow prevent my earlier thought from coming to pass. "I love you so much."

Clearly sensing my mounting tension, he dispels it in a most effective manner. He lowers his head and kisses me, lightly at first, then more intensely, as our tongues meet and meld. My legs all but give way beneath me and I feel as though my arms about his neck are the only things preventing me from collapsing in a boneless heap at his feet. After what seems like a blissful eternity, he breaks the kiss and, sweeping me up into his arms, he deposits me into the chair to keep company with his shirt and tie.

"I'll finish changing and then we'll go and see if we can't persuade Wufei and Treize to join us for dinner today. Heero and Duo should be here any minute."

"Okay Trowa." I say and I gaze dreamily at him. He kisses me once more, then proceeds to finish changing. I sigh contentedly as I watch him. My life, my universe, my Trowa.

Quatre is leaning against the doorjamb of the dressing room. He appears to be listening attentively as I recount the details of a board meeting that I chaired today, but I know that he is watching me as I undress. He likes looking at my body. I don't think that it's anything special, but Quatre tells me that it is, and I'm not going to argue with him. That is one of the things I love about him. He is so appreciative of every tiny aspect of me, even what I consider to be my faults. He makes me feel so good about myself. There was a time , it is a long time ago now and almost forgotten, but there was definitely a time when I had very low self-esteem. Meeting Quatre put paid to all that. His loving me gave me the confidence to love myself, and now everything I am today is due to him.

As I talk I loosen the knot of my tie, pull it over my head and throw it across the back of a chair. I do the same with my shirt, then I turn to face him, bare chested, hands on hips. My last statement was a question and I look at him, awaiting his response. Even though I know he has been ogling my body, his answer comes seamlessly on cue.

"You did absolutely the right thing my love," He says, and he smiles at me, his obvious approval at the way I handled things written all over his angelic countenance. As I said, he is so appreciative. His smile broadens and mischief sparkles in his beautiful blue eyes as he steps towards me, stopping scant millimetres away from me, and looks up at me.

Now, I know that my sensitive and emotional little love needs something from me, but I'm not sure what just yet. Quatre is an extremely needy person emotionally, but he cannot always articulate his needs. It may be physical contact, verbal interaction or merely a little attention that he craves, but he cannot say which because he hardly knows himself. Therefore, those closest to him need to learn to read him and act accordingly. Now don't get me wrong, this does not mean that he is hard work, and even if he were, it would be a labour of love to me and I would do it willingly.

He lays his hands on my stomach and runs them lightly over my torso. This often means that he wants to make love, but then again, not always. When he reaches my chest his hands glide smoothly over the area and come to rest clasped at the base of my neck, his eyes still locked with mine, but his expression softer now, the glint of mischief dulled to a soft gleam of contentment. No, he doesn't want to make love. If he did he would have lingered around my nipples a little longer. He just needs a reassuring little cuddle. I place my arms about his waist and draw him to me, not too tightly since I don't want to arouse him, merely to satisfy his need for touch and physical closeness.

"Do you think so?" I ask in response to his last statement, drowning in the limpid pools of blue that are his eyes.

"Yes I do," He replies, "But then you always do the right thing." He then lays his head on my chest and I look down onto soft, silken hair, the colour of ripe corn. I feel his body relax against mine and I know that I have interpreted him correctly.

We stand like this for some moment, in the centre of our dressing room, just holding each other, then suddenly I sense that all is not well with Quatre. I don't know why I know, and I don't even know what I know, but something is definitely wrong. He tightens his hold around my neck, and this confirms my suspicions.

"What's the matter darling?" I ask him, trying not to sound too anxious, lest I aggravate him further, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine my love." He replies.

"Are you sure?" I ask. I don't believe he's fine for one second. I feel his body tense against mine. There, I knew it - fine my foot! I run a hand up and down his back in the hope of soothing him a little - it usually works anyway. He gestures with his head against my chest in response to my question but whether he nods or shakes his head I cannot tell, not that it matters because I can still feel the tension in his little body. He suddenly raises his head and looks up at me with a stricken expression that it pains me to see.

"Trowa, I love you," He says, uttering the words with an intensity and fervour that I fail utterly to comprehend, "I love you so much."

I don't know that is troubling Quatre so, but I know what to do about it. I lower my head until our lips meet, and I kiss him. I kiss him only lightly at first, waiting for his reaction, but as I feel his body relax against mine once again, his tongue enters my mouth seeking mine, and the kiss intensifies. We kiss deeply like this for some time which we both enjoy immensely, but eventually his relaxation becomes so complete that I feel compelled to act before he collapses in a heap on the floor. With reluctance I break the kiss, gather him up into my arms and set him down onto the chair that formerly held my shirt and tie.

"I'll finish changing and then we'll go and see if we can't persuade Wufei and Treize to join us for dinner today. Heero and Duo should be here any minute." I tell him.

"Okay Trowa." He says, and gazes up at me with that look of utter devotion that simply makes me melt. Unable to resist, I kiss him once more then I continue disrobing. I steal a glance at him as I dress, and I realise that my entire world is there in that chair, regarding me as reverently as if I were a God, and for the millionth time I wonder what I ever did to deserve him - my beautiful, wonderful Quatre.