Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ No Part of Thee ❯ Chapter 1

Title: No Part of Thee
Author: Mookie
Pairing: Trowa/Quatre
Rating: NC17
Word count: 2,513
Warnings: graphic m/m sex, angst
Notes: Set post-EW. Written for Tsuki's New Year's Challenge.

Trowa arched his back as Quatre surged forward again. His thigh muscles tensed, and Quatre turned his face to kiss the side of Trowa's calf, running his lips along the length of the leg hanging over his shoulder, then returned his full attention to thrusting into Trowa. He leaned forward, bending Trowa in half, and placed his hands on the mattress on either side of Trowa's shoulders.

Quatre closed his eyes and bowed his head as he continued to pound into Trowa. Drops of sweat fell from his bangs to Trowa's chest, and mixed with the layer of perspiration already there. Trowa knew Quatre was close. He was panting heavily, and he'd never been able to keep his eyes open during orgasm. Trowa lifted one of his legs and struggled to work it under Quatre's arm, knowing what was coming next. He wrapped his other leg around Quatre's back, locking his ankles together.

"Trowa," Quatre gasped, and then he repeated the name, the urgency in his voice underscoring the almost manic pace of his thrusts. A final shout of Trowa's name and he pitched forward, catching himself on his elbows. Trowa lifted his head and Quatre met his lips eagerly as his climax hit him.

Now that Quatre was no longer rocking back and forth, Trowa slipped his raised leg off Quatre's shoulder and slid it against his torso, hooking it around Quatre's leg. He ran his fingers through the damp hair curling behind Quatre's ear and felt Quatre's lips press against his neck.

They lay like that for a while before Quatre pushed himself up and rolled onto his side. He glanced at Trowa's erection and reached for it, but Trowa shook his head and leaned over to kiss Quatre a second time.

"I'll take care of it myself. You need to get ready to go."

He knew Quatre wasn't looking forward to meeting with the eldest of his sisters. There were so many, Quatre hadn't met half of them, and this one was old enough to be his grandmother. She'd requested an audience with Quatre to discuss what had happened to Iria, but he'd chosen to visit her instead. As he'd told Trowa when the invitation had been issued, he needed the shuttle trip to compose what he was going to say. To work through the images in his mind, to separate reality from the hallucinations he'd had in Heero's Gundam; the facts as he knew them from the guilt he carried for everything that had gone wrong that day.

He placed his hand behind Trowa's head and drew them together for one last kiss, this one fast and hard, before practically throwing himself out of the bed and heading for the bathroom.

Trowa wished there were more he could do to console Quatre, but he knew that the same nightmares that plagued him at times were those that played through Quatre's sleeping mind as well.

He sighed and scratched his stomach. He wasn't really in the mood to do anything about his libido. His erection had already begun to subside, and there was no point bringing it back to full alert status. He glanced at the bathroom door. Quatre had shut it, but left it ajar.

Trowa slipped out of bed and walked toward the door. He wanted to take advantage of their time together. He wasn't sure exactly who would be standing there waiting to be picked up at the shuttle port next week or what changes the visit would bring over the man he'd grown to love. He wanted to remember his time with Quatre the way things were now. Not perfect, but as close as either of them was ever likely to come.

"Are you sure you want to know?" Trowa asked. "It won't change anything between us, no matter what it says." He waved the sealed envelope at Catherine. "I can tear it up right now."

The woman he'd come to think of as his sister reached for the envelope, her eyes glittering brightly. "You'll always be my family, Trowa, but I need to know. Have faith."

He let her remove it from his grasp, watched as she slid her thumb under the flap and tore it open. Watched as she unfolded it with shaking fingers and saw her eyes skim the results of the DNA testing.

His heart fell as tears spilled over her cheeks. She covered her mouth with one hand and handed it back to him, almost dropping it in the process. He caught it and read it quickly.

The percentages on the test's accuracy he ignored, the likelihood of the outcome being false not nearly as important as the impact it had had on Catherine Bloom.

He blinked as the word "positive" jumped out at him, and read it again.

Even after the third time, he couldn't have recited a single bit of information from it, but he knew that, beyond a doubt, he was Triton Bloom.

Catherine wiped her tears from her face with the heel of her hand, and smiled at him. "I knew it," she said, "I think on some level I've known it from the first day I met you."

For the first time since they'd been reunited, Trowa put his arms around Catherine and gathered her into a hug. It was probably the best Christmas present either of them could have received.

"Welcome home, Triton," she said against his neck.

Trowa tightened his arms around her. "It's good to be back, sis."

Trowa looked up as the doorknob rattled and was out of his seat like a shot when it swung open. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask Quatre what he was doing home so early, when his shuttle wasn't scheduled to land for another couple of hours. One look at Quatre's face had him doing nothing more than walking up to take Quatre's coat and hang it up.

He guided Quatre to the couch and waited for the other man to sit before walking to the kitchen to fetch them something to drink. He removed the pitcher of lemonade and poured them a couple of glasses, then marched back into the living room and handed one to Quatre before sitting down next to him.

He sipped his own while Quatre just sat there nursing the glass between his hands. When he felt Quatre's head lean against his shoulder, he turned to nuzzle the strands of blond hair. There would be time to talk about it later.

It was later that night when Quatre seemed to shake loose the despondency that had enshrouded him since he'd returned. Trowa had barely put a knee on the mattress when Quatre reached up and pulled his face down for a kiss. It was full of passion and eagerness, but Trowa swore Quatre's aggressiveness had an edge of anger to it as well. He tamped down the thought and lost himself in the kiss, allowing Quatre to roam cold fingers over Trowa's body, to trace scars made what seemed a lifetime ago, and to lightly scratch at Trowa's back. He rubbed his erection against Trowa's inner thigh, and when Trowa dipped his head down for another kiss, he tilted his head back. Trowa ran his tongue along the exposed Adam's apple and bit lightly at the skin near Quatre's jugular. He felt the tremors run through Quatre's body, and they frightened him.

Quatre's hand fumbled for the tube of lubrication they kept in the nightstand drawer and he thrust it into Trowa's hands, then turned around and buried his face into the pillow, raising his ass in the air and waiting.

Trowa placed a hand on Quatre's lower back. It was unlike Quatre to favor this position - not after a long separation. He wanted to ask what had happened, but he knew that if he broke the mood, somehow he'd also reject Quatre in a way he wasn't sure he understood. He slid a gel covered finger into Quatre, then added a second. As Quatre pushed his lower body back, Trowa began seeking the spot that seemed much easier to stimulate when he was sheathed inside Quatre. He reached around and stroked Quatre's length, pressing firmly against his prostate once Quatre's hips bucked, indicating that he'd found it. He removed his fingers and slathered more of the colorless gel onto his shaft, then slid it slowly into Quatre, guiding himself into place carefully before wrapping his fingers around Quatre's cock once more.

"Trowa!"

He almost froze in mid-thrust, hearing Quatre cry out his name that way, but he kept going, even after he felt Quatre clench around him. Knowing Quatre had already reached his climax spurned him on, and when Trowa came inside him, he was awash with guilt, knowing he'd gotten off quicker just hearing Quatre's anguished cries.

Trowa had to force himself to stay in bed with Quatre and to wrap his arms around Quatre's trembling frame. He held on tightly until Quatre fell asleep, and then decided that perhaps it wouldn't kill them to wake up stuck together.

It took him a while to follow Quatre into sleep.

Trowa found Quatre sitting at the table eating a slice of toast when he stumbled to the kitchen the next morning. He poured a cup of coffee and sat down at the end of the table, reaching over and lacing his fingers through Quatre's.

He didn't need to say anything. That simple touch was all it took to open the floodgates. Quatre began speaking, his words rushed and his tongue tripping over itself, but he didn't stop until he was done.

Trowa got off his chair and dropped his knees beside Quatre, putting his arms around Quatre's waist. The fingers through his hair reminded him of the way he'd sometimes pet the lion's mane.

It probably wasn't the best time to bring up the issue with Catherine, but he did so anyway. He suspected if he didn't tell Quatre now, too much time would pass, and Quatre would find out from someone else.

"Triton Bloom," Quatre said, his voice sounding a bit hoarse.

Trowa looked up from Quatre's lap, and saw the smile on Quatre's lips and in his eyes. He'd made the right choice.

The line was moving slowly, and Trowa resisted the urge to look at the clock again. He'd already been at the government office for thirty-seven minutes, and there were still five people ahead of him. He glanced down at his identification card and at the paperwork in his hand, the proof that his given name was Triton Bloom.

The person at the head of the line moved up to the counter, and everyone else took a few steps forward.

Trowa ran his finger along the edges of the laminated photo, and over the name Trowa Barton in a ten-point sans serif font. His address, the home he shared with Quatre, was printed directly below.

Triton Bloom.

He didn't know why it seemed such an incredible thing. He'd gone without a name of his own for so long, when all this time there had been one out there waiting for him. Fate was often a fickle mistress, but she'd managed to reunite him with his surviving family, and he couldn't be more proud to know that his sister was a strong, independent woman.

The face that looked up at him from the card was serious, but there was a hint of a smile in those off-color eyes. They looked almost blue in the photo, even though his eye color was clearly labeled as green, right under his height, weight, and hair color.

He remembered the day they'd been issued the cards - Heero, Duo, and himself - the day that their adopted names became, in the eyes of the Earth Sphere United Nations, real. It had been a comment Heero had made under his breath while in line to get their photos taken that had made Trowa laugh quietly. He'd remembered it later and relayed it to Quatre when he'd gotten home.

What would his photo look like today, when a new one was taken? He tried to imagine the new ID card, and to picture the new name printed over his address.

The line moved forward again.

Trowa sounds fine to me, Quatre had said to him after they'd destroyed the Gundams. Why not keep it, Trowa?

What's important is that we have a place we can call home, Duo had added. Right?

Trowa had agreed with him, and shortly after that, he'd rejoined Catherine at the circus. He'd always felt like he'd had a home with her. Now, however, his home was with Quatre. He ran a thumbnail along the card again, underscoring their address.

The line advanced, and there were now three people ahead of him.

Earlier that morning he'd gasped out Quatre's name during sex, and Quatre had bitten his lip to keep from doing the same. It hadn't lessened any of the physical enjoyment, but Trowa realized he'd missed it. There was something incredibly intimate about hearing Quatre cry out his name, and it hadn't quite felt the same without it.

Did that mean they were in a rut with their sex life, that Trowa looked forward to certain things that he'd come to expect?

Only two people were ahead of him.

All his life, Trowa had gone by a variety of aliases, of convenient labels, and he'd been more than aware of his lack of a name. It hadn't bothered him, really. As Duo had said, a name was just what other people called you, and no one had ever had any problems addressing him, even when he was just No-name.

He thought of the small things in life. When he gave Quatre his Christmas gift next year, how would he sign the card? He knew Quatre accepted him for who he was, not for the name by which the government recognized him.

One person remained ahead of him.

When the last leaf on the calendar was removed at the end of the week and the New Year began, nothing in his life would be different, only this little bit of laminated plastic. His home was the same, the things he held dear would remain the same. He'd always been Catherine's brother, and if he had anything to say about it, he'd be with Quatre for even longer.

And as Quatre's lover, he wanted to hear his name called out in the heat of passion, just the way it had been from the first time they'd made love.

The person at the front of the line was summoned, and Trowa would have been next in line, had he stayed.

Quatre's words rang in his head again. Hell, the name "Trowa" had always sounded fine to him, too. He smiled. It sounded even better spilling from Quatre's lips in the heat of passion.

And Trowa had plans to see how many times he could hear it before the day was through.

7 December 2004