Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Mmm . . . Butter ❯ One-Shot

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

"Come on, Trowa! This is gonna be great!" Trowa was helpless to do anything but follow his excited boyfriend - popcorn in one arm, Trowa's hand in the other - as he enthusiastically pulled him along.

"Slow down a bit Quatre. It's not like we're going to miss the movie." Trowa couldn't help but chuckle though, as Quatre led him eagerly into the dim movie theatre. Passing their tickets to the usher, Quatre then proceeded to lead Trowa further into the darkened room. Looking briefly around, Trowa noted there were a fair few people sitting scattered around, not enough to call it busy though.

He let out a low groan when Quatre seated them between the middle and the front, nearer to the front. He had wanted to sit at the back . . .

They got settled in their seats, Quatre fidgeting around for a few moments, until he found a comfortable way to sit. With a grin up at him, Quatre said, "do you think this will be any good?"

"Probably not," was Trowa's deadpan reply.

Quatre laughed and gave a shrug, dipping a hand elegantly into the buttery popcorn.

A few moments, and more fidgeting, later the lights dimmed themselves further, and the movie started to play. With the start of the movie, also came the start of Trowa's problems.

It hadn't been his idea at all to go out to the movies that night, but Quatre wanted to see this film, and Trowa could never deny his beauty anything. And it wasn't that Trowa minded, only, he would have preferred to stay home, and finish what Quatre had unwittingly started earlier.

With the memory of earlier, Trowa found himself suddenly a lot more aware of the boy next to him. From the corner of his green eye Trowa studied his beautiful boyfriend, the way that thick, silky-soft blond hair always fell so adorably across those shimmering aqua eyes. The rapt look of attention on his pale face, how the light played across his smooth, creamy skin. Ah, but he was so beautiful!

His eyes fell to the bucket of popcorn Quatre held between them. Watched, as those slim, pale hands delved in, delicately picking out a single piece at a time. Trowa wondered if Quatre realised that he ate his popcorn funny, putting butter smothered piece at a time, watching as Quatre seemed to suck on the small, buttery foodstuff. He felt himself go slightly weak in the legs, as he invisioned, almost felt, the feeling of the warm butter melt the popcorn deliciously onto Quatre's tongue.

Those thoughts were not doing him any good at all, and Trowa tried to force his attention elsewhere. Again, though, he found himself drawn back to watching Quatre's hand picking around in the bucket, the melted butter sliding across those long, slim fingers. When his hand came out again, Trowa saw the liquid butter sticking to those fingers, and found himself longing to catch onto Quatre's thin wrist, and stick those beautiful, firm, musicians fingers into his mouth one at a time, and suck that melted butter off.

Shifting slightly in his seat, Trowa crossed his legs and determined to drive those thoughts away. 'Not now!' he thought to himself. 'Not in a dark movie theatre. Think clean!'

Blinking, Trowa realised that Quatre was gazing up at him, looking at him expectantly. Puzzled, Trowa raised an eyebrow at the blond.

"Don't you want some?" Quatre whispered, leaning forward to Trowa, filling him with his sudden closeness.

'Oh, I want some alright, just not the popcorn, more like you, Quat . . .' Trowa stopped himself whispering that back, and instead, with a smile, slipped a hand into the bucket. He was greeted with the sensation of warm, buttery popcorn. He ate a couple of pieces, and contemplated the idea of using Quatre, a naked Quatre, to wipe the excess butter off on.

Knowing that thought would lead to . . . more uncomfort, Trowa again delved his hand into the popcorn bucket, trying to take his mind off things. This time, he felt Quatre's hand as well, warm and buttery, sliding deliciously slick against his own. 'Ooh.' He had reached for the popcorn at the same time. Quatre looked up, a smile on his face, and Trowa noticed how that butter had moistened those sweet, pink lips. He longed to lick it off. Ah . . . to taste him now.

Trowa cut the thought off, cursing Quatre and how the boy continued to turn him on without the slightest idea of him doing so. Turning back to the movie screen, Trowa tried to focus on that instead, and ignore the sudden tightness in his trousers.

This little evening out was not starting off well, and Trowa almost groaned to himself, he knew it could only get progressively worse. They were watching a horror movie. These always scared Quatre. However stupid they both knew the films were, they never failed to make Quatre jump. And yet, he always loved watching them. Not that Trowa minded, oh no, he wasn't really into horror, but he definitely didn't mind having a jumpy Quatre grasping onto his arm and burying his head into Trowa's chest. This was infact, one of Trowa's favourite past times with the blond, it was a win win situation for both. Ah, but tonight, this was going to be pure torture. And they were only thirty minutes in . . .

Quatre, still occasionaly, absent-mindedly, sucking on his popcorn, was enraptured and looked completely submerged into the movie, whereas Trowa, on the other hand, was fighting the visions abounding in his mind of himself, submering in Quatre.

"Oh!" Quatre let out a slight gasp and reached for Trowa's arm as a part of the movie made him jump.

Forcing back a moan, Trowa let Quatre clutch onto him, moving his arm up to place it around the smaller boys shoulders. Quatre gratefully moved himself closer, as close as he could get to Trowa with an armrest between them, anyway. This was better, at least now, he could safely have some contact. Although, Trowa was busy battling away thoughts of caressing Quatre's naked shoulder and . . .

This went on for another half hour, Quatre gasping and jumping in Trowa's arm, Trowa shifting in his now extremely uncomfortable trousers and praying to whatever God may exist and was currently listening to please let this extreme version of torture end.

"Oh, gross!" Quatre gasped at the incredibly stupid and incredibly fake vampire on screen, jumping all the same. In reaction, Trowa squeezed the blond and gently rubbed his fingers across his shoulder, wishing it was naked skin he were caressing instead.

Trowa wondered what on earth had got him into such a perverted mood this evening. It certainly didn't help, having the gorgeous blond, body pressed up so tightly against his own, jumping and gasping in his arms, making Trowa wish that it wasn't the stupid vampire on the screen eliciting these reactions, but instead the tingly-wet, warm sensation as Trowa did something involving a very naked Quatre, buckets of melted butter, and smothering.

The thought was so arousing, that Trowa let out an audible, low groan, and felt himself stiffen with shock when he realised he'd done so outloud. 'What the hell is this thing with butter? He questioned his perverted mind. Of course, it gave him no answer, and instead opted on throwing out some more delicious fantasies. 'Figures . . .'

This continued on in the same pattern for the duration of the movie. As Quatre jumped and clutched onto his arm, occasionally hiding his head into his chest, Trowa found himself forcing down all sorts of perverted visions, which were all different levels of perversion. There was the one where Trowa, after grabbing Quatre's hand and licking the butter off, finger by finger, placed that hand over his arousal, and having the theatre become mysteriously empty, ended with Quatre fulfilling Trowa's burning need.

Or, there was the one, not featured in the movie theatre, but someplace more private, where Trowa stripped the boy down naked, and proceeded to smother the smooth, pale skin in golden, warm, melted butter. Ah, that was Trowa's favourite.

He grinded his teeth together, trying to stop himself from physically reaching out for Quatre in an improper way, as the boy yet again, clutched tightly onto his arm. When would this torture end? Trowa couldn't stand much longer of this. Quatre was clearly enjoying this movie, and had no idea of the effect all this touching, and eating of popcorn, was affecting Trowa, and the discomfort of his trousers.

Finally, thankfully, the movie was resolved, and the credits began to roll. Without hesitation, Trowa leant over, grasping Quatre's sticky hand in his own, and almost groaning out in a low voice, "come on."

Giving a puzzled look up at his taller boyfriend, Quatre obediantly followed him out of the movie theatre. They stepped out of the harsh indoor lighting, into the dark outside of the evening. "Trowa, are you-?"

Quatre's words were suddenly eaten up by Trowa, who - wasting no time - pushed Quatre up against the building wall and proceeded to kiss the boy close to death. Ah, it was just as he had imagined, those moistened, butter lips sliding slick across his own. Opening his mouth and invading Quatre's, Trowa could taste the popcorn from earlier. He felt Quatre succumb to his heated kiss, and pressed his body closer, pushing the boy into the wall, and grinding his arousal into Quatre's leg.

With a slight squeak, Quatre pulled himself away, and looked up at Trowa, a surprised smirk on his bright face. "What's gotten into you?" he asked.

With almost a growl, Trowa replied. "You! How can you do that?"

Blinking innocently up at him, Quatre shrugged, "do what?"

Trowa let out a groan. "Just, just sit there, and watch the damn movie!"

Giggling, Quatre reached up and caressed Trowa's cheek with his hand, still slightly sticky from the earlier butter. "Aw, is Trowa missing something?" he teased.

Eyes widened, Trowa gasped. "You knew!" Quatre's giggle was confirmation enough. "You sat through that entire movie, knowing exactly what I was feeling, and you did nothing!"

"Well, I didn't do nothing, " was Quatre's coy reply.

Trowa realised what Quatre meant then. He had been doing it on purpose. All of it. Every single damn thing, the blond had done on purpose. Just to arouse him. "Oh, you little tease," his green eyes narrowed as he stared back at the boy, plotting. "Are you going to get it when we get home!"

With another growl, Trowa grabbed the boy, laughing as he led them away from the movie theatre. Ah, the things he had in store for Quatre, for teasing and playing with him that way. Oh, his list was absolutely endless.

In a bright voice, Quatre asked, "does this involve melted butter?"