Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Leather, Violins and James Dean ❯ Chapter02 ( Chapter 2 )

Standard disclaimers apply: I don't own Gundam Wing or its bishounen, nor am I making any monetary profit from this fic whatsoever.

Author: Michalyn (darling_162002@yahoo.com)
Pairings: 3x4
General Warnings: PWP (plotless but not pointless I hope ^_^;;) AU: setting is the 1950s yaoi, angst, sap, lemon
Rating: NC 17

Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I really hope you enjoy this part as well

Feedback: craved ^_^

Leather, Violins and James Dean 2/2 ( possible epilogue to follow?)

By Michalyn

*~*~*

Quatre slowly released him, and Trowa watched as the small blonde quietly moved to the bed and carefully turned back the covers. No expensive silk: just sunny cotton and daisy-printed pillowcases as sweet and unpretentious as the tiny blonde who slept on them. And Trowa desperately wished that he could be more for Quatre. -Or perhaps, less: Less cynical, less jaded - less of a coward…Less of everything that prevented him from being a man deserving of the gift that was being surrendered to him so simply and unselfishly. No demands, no recriminations - no promises…

If only he could feel no guilt…

And still he could not bring himself to turn away: To leave the beautiful youth as untouched as he had found him. He dared not move, dared not utter a single syllable as Quatre sat, modestly turning away, as his fingers worked the tiny buttons along his shirt. The ex-soldier's blood pounded in his veins in bittersweet anticipation, but it seemed wrong - irreverent somehow - to interrupt the ritual with rough, uncontrolled lust. And so Trowa watched with heated, emerald eyes: passion and pain warring within him with every leap of his flesh.

Quatre shrugged out of the shirt, folding it neatly and placing it on the dresser next to his bed. His golden head was shyly bowed, and he didn't look up - nor did waver in his movements as he set it aside and began to unfasten his pants. The garment dropped, pooling softly around his ankles. One smooth knee was revealed - and then the other.

Cold black metal bracketed the joint: encircling both Quatre's thigh immediately above and his calf below, leaving the knee itself exposed, but heavily supported in its metal frame. It was swollen - the joint misshapen and curving faintly inwards. To Trowa, it only made Quatre more beautiful and precious for his obvious strength and determination. Only confirmed what he had known from the minute he had laid eyes on Quatre: The diminutive blonde was made to be cherished.

Feeling the warm emerald gaze - and remembering how it missed nothing, Quatre's head bowed self-consciously lower. He was left in the cumbersome brace around his knee, the vest tucked demurely into pale blue boxers - and the faint blush staining his cheeks.

When he met Trowa's eyes again, his expression was utterly open: An endearing mixture of determination, shyness and trembling expectation as waited for the older man to join him.

Slowly, with the same reverence and slow, careful movements with which he had observed the delicate blonde, Trowa removed his shoes, his jacket, his shirt - each garment until he stood naked before Quatre's curious eyes. The younger man openly admired him, hiding none of his wonder and interest as his blue eyes trailed down the taller man's body, leaving fire in their wake. Trowa kept his hands at his sides, allowing the intimate perusal. Watching as Quatre became flushed and his breathing became shallow - soft gasping breaths echoing in the room between them.

The sight of Quatre's burgeoning passion seared the tall brunette and he hardened, rising slowly under the younger man's gaze. Quatre's eyes widened and he stared, transfixed at the older man's groin. His lips trembled and parted - his eyes sliding shut as tremors shook him - and Trowa could no longer content himself with being a spectator. Slowly, he approached the bed and knelt at the blonde's feet.

Quatre's eyes flew open at the first heated touch of Trowa's tongue tracing his knee, dipping between unyielding metal to the soft flesh beneath. He made a panicked, protesting sound, but strong hands were already caressing his thigh, and then his calf, freeing him from the confines of the brace and exposing his deformity. A choked, tortured moan spilled from his throat and his eyes squeezed shut, unable to bear the humiliating scrutiny.

Trowa lovingly massaged one tiny foot and then the other, kissing each perfect, pink toe in turn before moving upwards, testing the suppleness of Quatre's calf before trailing downwards again. Abruptly he stopped - releasing the petite blonde completely and simply admiring the luminous beauty before him.

Quatre didn't know why the taller man had halted his caresses, but he hoped to seize the opportunity to slide under the covers and shield his leg. He wanted to make love with Trowa, but he just * couldn't * with his knee so exposed. He felt too vulnerable - too monstrous next to the ex-soldier's masculine perfection. Besides, he reasoned: If he slipped in, then maybe Trowa would follow --And he wanted so badly to touch all that smooth tanned skin. Perhaps now was his chance…

Tentatively he cracked one eye open and then the other. --And found emerald eyes staring right at him. When large thumbs circled his knee and gently caressed the puffy scars on either side, he gasped and turned away, helpless tears smarting behind his eyelids.

"Please," he whispered, hating himself for pleading. "Don't-don't touch… it."

Trowa leaned forward, capturing the salty moisture with his lips. He searched Quatre's expression with, dark, concerned eyes. "What is wrong?" he asked anxiously. "Did I hurt you?"

Quatre inhaled shakily and wiped at his eyes as he turned to Trowa. His voice was soft. "Yes," he replied simply. " But not in the way you mean." His mouth turned almost bitterly downwards. "I-- it's too ugly…" he finished, burying his face in his hands.

"No."

Quatre looked up at the quiet utterance. "What?"

Trowa caressed his cheek. "I said no." His thumbs followed the wet tracks of Quatre's tears. "Nothing about you is ugly," he said fiercely. "And this-" He bent, kissing a puckered scar lovingly. " This is part of you as well." He groaned, auburn strands tickling sensitive flesh as he suckled gently. "Beautiful, so beautiful" he murmured between kisses. "Too beautiful for a soldier's hands."

Quatre shook his head sadly and placed a finger against Trowa's lips. "Shhh." He pressed his lips against the brunette's in a fierce, unschooled kiss. "Let's not speak of it," he whispered, tugging the ex-soldier up from his knees and onto the bed beside him. "Not tonight."

"I want you," he said simply. "But I don't know how…" He looked deeply into Trowa's lush irises. "Show me," he whispered.

Emotion constricted Trowa's throat at the intimate request: at the tiny blonde's sweet, abundant passion. He had no defenses against it - nor any desire to. He nodded; lifting Quatre effortlessly and laying him back against the pillows. When he cupped the smaller man's cheeks between his palms and began lowering his head to capture his soft lips, Quatre's eyes automatically fluttered closed and eagerly, his head tilted upwards, leaning to towards Trowa like a flower in warm sunlight.

He nibbled gently at the lush downturn of Quatre's mouth and the rosebud unfurled, granting him entrance before he even sought to ask it. The taste of the slender beauty was intoxicating. --Softness and heat and an elusive hint of spice that tantalized him almost beyond bearing. He licked at the wet insides of Quatre's cheeks, the slickness beneath his bottom lip - questing for that exquisite flavor; and small hands gripped his shoulders tightly, a soft moan bubbling from Quatre's throat.

Trowa groaned, pulling Quatre's precious warmth closer; wanting to draw forth more of those sweet sounds. He slowly devoured him, kissing him tenderly and thoroughly until the gentle blonde was crying out softly and shifting restlessly against him. Trowa pulled away, leaving Quatre trembling; his pale skin damp and sweetly flushed. His generous passion awed the auburn-haired man - humbled him. That he would surrender himself so unquestioningly-He nibbled delicately at the soft lobe of Quatre's ear and the smaller man arched, panting heavily. - So * hotly* - took his breath away. His hands smoothed caressingly down the length of Quatre's arms, massaging sensuously at his shoulders and stopping only when his fingers were entwined with the pale beauty's slender digits. Bringing their hands to his lips, he brushed a kiss over the younger man's knuckles, and Quatre smiled softly and the sadness hovering in his eyes gave it a luminosity that tugged painfully at the ex-soldier's chest, reminding him how fleeting these moments were.

Slowly he released him, tenderly brushing mussed golden strands away from Quatre's forehead. His fingers traced the arch of a pale cheekbone and Quatre followed the caress, leaning into it until he was nestled against Trowa's palm. The brunette groaned, and he bent, trembling with restrained passion as he captured soft lips once more. His hands slid beneath the smaller man's back, holding him arched as Quatre simply melted into the kiss, pale limbs turning to honey. When he pulled away the delicate beauty's lips were parted; flushed, and swollen from Trowa's attentions. He stared up at the older man with dazed, passion-dilated eyes; pale irises almost completely eclipsed by the dark bloom of his pupils, and another groan spilled from Trowa's throat.

"Let me undress you," he pleaded hoarsely.

The words were barely uttered before Quatre was nodding, granting him what he sought without preamble or protest and Trowa shuddered, filled with some sorrowful emotion that threatened to overcome him. He brushed another kiss across Quatre's lips and gently lifted him into a sitting position. Tugging on the soft material, he eased him out of the vest.

Quatre was perfect: smooth and petite, yet lightly muscled. His arms were strong and graceful, his chest narrow and sweetly defined, the milky expanse interrupted only by two delicate and rosily pouting nipples.

And never had two nipples so fascinated Trowa or looked so delicious. He stared, entranced at the dusky circles, their tiny peaks rigid and thrusting gently upwards. Quatre prickled with heat; the avid, heavy look in Trowa's eyes stealing his breath away. He glanced down, following the direction of the older man's gaze. "What is it?" he gasped urgently.

"These," Trowa murmured, eyes darkening and voice almost guttural with arousal. He leaned forward and circled one tender nubbin and then the other with his fingertip, causing Quatre to gasp and shiver as sensation shot through him. "T-Trowa--" he moaned, shivering again as calloused fingers began to rub slowly at the sensitive buds. He groaned, arching his back - desperately trying to press himself into Trowa's palm. Crying out sharply when the hands were removed and suddenly replaced with a hot mouth. Trowa nursed at him, suckling at one nipple and then its partner until Quatre was whimpering and mewling, tugging frantically at the short, auburn strands of the older man's hair.

He didn't even notice when the hot mouth trailed downward, suckling and gently nipping. Tracing patterns between the valley of his ribs and the soft flesh of his stomach - leaving a trail of love-bites on the pale, tender skin. Trowa's tongue darted teasingly into the indent of Quatre's belly button and the blonde arched, squirming deliciously at the ticklish sensation. Strong hands came to the barrier of the younger man's boxers and Trowa paused, kneading Quatre's waist briefly before pulling back and hooking his fingers in the material.

Quatre's erection nuzzled the soft cotton, tenting it - the moisture at tip wetting the thin cloth and rendering it almost transparent to the taller man's gaze. To his embarrassment, Trowa's knowing fingers immediately found it, spreading the erotic slickness, sending pleasure wracking through Quatre's small frame. The other man tugged gently at the waistline of the boxers, inching it downwards until only that hot tip was revealed, peeking erotically above elastic. Trowa stared hungrily at the erotic picture and Quatre groaned, turning his reddened face into the pillow.

The innocent shyness tugged at the brunette's heartstrings and he eased the garment off, reassuringly caressing a smooth, pale hip. His hand turned, finding the soft nest of golden curls and Quatre tensed and shuddered, his eyes squeezing shut.

When Trowa began to smoothly stroke him, he whimpered, hips lifting sweetly off the bed. The tall man increased the firmness of his strokes; his own flesh throbbing painfully as he avidly watched Quatre's flush deepen. The blonde's head thrashed on the pillow and his thighs instinctively fell open as he thrust into Trowa's grasp, wantonly exposing himself to his lover's hungry gaze. And when hot wetness of the brunette's mouth enveloped his hardness, a long, low moan erupted from him. His eyes flew open in shock as abruptly he climaxed, spilling silkily against his lover's throat.

Brushing back the pale, sweaty bangs from Quatre's forehead, Trowa kissed him soothingly, murmuring tender endearments against his panting lips as he reached for the bottle of lotion on the dresser beside the bed. Gently, he spread his lover's thighs, suckling at the soft inner flesh, worshipping the sensitive skin with tongue and fingers until once more, Quatre began to move restlessly against him. He froze when a slick finger probed delicately at his entrance, circling the tiny pucker then dipping past the tight ring of muscle.

"Relax, Petite," Trowa murmured, his voice low and mesmerizing. " I would never hurt you. -Never" he fiercely repeated as his finger withdrew, then returned, probing more deeply. He moaned as he slid in past the first knuckle, Quatre's tightness surrounding him in a loving vise. The invasion rioted along Quatre's nerves and the smaller man cried out, shuddering as he hovered on the precipice of pain and pleasure. Tears sparkled on his lashes and Trowa began a gentle, soothing stroking. Not pressing any deeper, but thrusting shallowly - loosening the tight seal of muscle He only wanted bring this beautiful creature pleasure. - Not pain he vowed desperately. -Never pain.

This time when a slender digit slid all the way in it was Quatre who moaned. His hips pressing sensuously against Trowa's palm, the soft cheeks of his buttocks clenching hungrily around the invading digit.

Trowa pressed into smooth heat, searching for the bump of Quatre's prostate. He stroked it once, teasingly and the blonde's hips bucked wildly, husky cries bubbling from his hips. His fingers clenched in the sheets. "Trowa-" he groaned. "Please!"

He almost sobbed in frustration when he felt the emerald-eyed man pulling away, but Trowa returned, doubling the pleasure, two fingers unerringly stroking that place inside him. The intensity of it rocked the tiny blonde and he could only emit an incoherent stream of moans and whimpers as Trowa took him to heights he had never known existed.

Quatre's scorching sensuality, his passionate cries and his intimate heat spilling over Trowa's palm ravished the last of his control. He needed Quatre - needed him more than anything he had in his life. To be gifted with such beauty - such * passion* …

Emotion burned in his chest, his hands trembling as he slowly lubricated his shaft. Mindful of Quatre's knee, he spooned behind him, pulling him close. Gently, he lifted Quatre's other leg across his hip, slowly opening him. His hands sought the warm crevice, teasing the unfurled bud between the parted cheeks before carefully pressing inwards. Quatre cried out sharply as the hot thickness inexorably pushed in, dragging along sensitive inner tissues. The sensation hovered somewhere between pain and ecstasy and he trembled, panting heavily as he struggled to adjust.

Quatre's heat surrounded him, the clenching of the inner muscles as the blonde tried to adjust to holding Trowa within his body almost destroying the older man's restraint. He kissed the nape of Quatre's neck and his hands roamed the lithe body, tweaking a nipple then sliding between slim thighs, cradling the softness of his testicles and stroking the flagging erection. When Quatre gasped and began to push against him, a guttural groan bubbled from Trowa's throat as the last of his control unraveled. He began thrusting in a slow, deep rhythm, nudging his lover's prostate with each rough stroke.

And Quatre welcomed him, took all of him - moved with him. His tiny cries of pleasure echoing in Trowa's ears, and mingling with the ex-soldier's own sounds of passion. The sight of him, the feel of him - the heady musk of his passion - Trowa savored it all, locking it away in that chamber of his heart he never thought to feel anything in again. When they shattered together it was deep and beautiful and desperate. Fueled by all that was left unsaid between them.

The lithe brunette pulled Quatre onto his chest, showering his face with fierce frantic kisses. And small hands caressed him, lips answering with equal fervor as Quatre pressed desperately into Trowa's arms.

They made love many times - that night and in the gray hours before dawn. And when all had been given and taken Trowa buried his face in the crook of Quatre's neck and wept like a child. Wept for all that he was and all that he was not - and for the man who had shared his fire with him and tried to ease the darkness in his soul. Quatre held him close and comforted him. Wiped away the rain of hot tears with small, pale fingers.

"Don't cry, don't cry," he cooed soothingly, his own voice cracking with unexpressed emotion. His hands trailed caressingly down Trowa's back, kneading the supple muscles on either side of his spine.

Tremblingly he captured the other man's lips.

"Don't cry, sweet soldier," he repeated softly. "It's not morning yet."

*~*~* Owari *~*~*