Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Pull Up For The J! ❯ Fall To Pieces ( Chapter 11 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Chapter Eleven~
“Fall To Pieces” =Velvet Revolver



“So...”
“So...?”
“So...”
“So.”
“So.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, just talk to me!” Duo complained as he glared at Hiiro, who looked at him with a simple frown, chucking an empty can of Sprite into a nearby trash receptacle. The pair were making their way to the gym for their nightly rendevous with the others, and had just left the cafeteria. They had eaten dinner the hour before, and had chosen to visit with the others of their crowd while waiting for their food to settle, to prevent any cramps or aching stomachs during their game.
Hiiro took a few moments to respond to the complaint, reaching up to brush his unruly hair from his face before taking a deep breath and exhaling with much exhaustion. “Look...I know you’ve been saying it over and over and over again during the last two years...but I think this relationship with Relena is going no where.”
“Gee. Whatever gave you that idea?” Duo muttered as he reached into his bag of chips, pulling out a handful and cramming it into his mouth. Rolling his eyes, he looked at Hiiro, saying, “And? What’s this big gossip session pertaining to? Am I going to hear more bullshit about how you think she’s cheating on you and need some advice on how to keep her? Or is it the day when you’re gonna tell me you grew a set of balls an’ you’re gonna break up with her?”
“I didn’t ask to talk to you for your sarcasm, Duo, but yes. Today, I found four hairs on my boys. I think it’s time for me to break up with her.”
“Break-up number three, commenced in five...four...three...two–”
“For real this time.”
Duo snorted, rolling his eyes once more. While he’d heard the speech too many times to count, Duo could hear an insistence in Hiiro’s tone that suggested that this breakup was going to be different this time. So, despite his natural urge to throw his arms in the air and yell that he was tired of hearing it and experiencing the same outcome every time, he chose to listen.
“What’s the reason for it today?” he asked on a tired sigh.
Hiiro smiled faintly, looking away from him to study the dark areas that surrounded them. “I...I have a crush on someone.”
Duo felt his entire world drop away from his feet, and he paused in walking, looking at him curiously. His mouth felt dry, and there was a sudden ringing within his ears. Hiiro looked at him with a questioning expression, frowning. “What?”
“Er...nothing. Nothing!” Duo said quickly, moving once more. He tried to keep his dismay from showing. “So...who is it?”
“I...don’t want to say. But she’s really...she’s really special. I’ve known her for awhile.” Hiiro smiled faintly, looking off into the distance as they neared the gym. “She makes me laugh. With Relena, I barely feel the need to. You know?”
“Eh heh. Heh, heh, heh...so...um, you aren’t going to tell me who she is?” Duo asked, but it was forced, his tone a little heavy. He pasted a bright smile on his face that didn’t feel too good as he looked at Hiiro, pursuing the subject.
“Nah. I don’t want you interfering.”
“Oh...gee...that’s really...really nice of you. Well, congratulations on moving on. It’s about fucking time,” Duo muttered, suddenly finding no other real reason to continue with the fake cheer. He just trudged along behind Hiiro and wished that he didn’t feel so damn sick.
Hiiro stared at him questioningly, wondering why the sudden apathy at his news, and lowered his eyes to the sidewalk. If Duo wanted to be that way, then let him.

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Sylvia tugged her sleeves over her hands and quickly made her way over to the gym. It wasn’t often that she went there, but the times that she had, she had fun oogling the boys there. All sweaty, muscular, determined to get their hands on the ball...ooh, she had shivers just thinking of it! Giggling, she made her way into the gym and ran up to the second level, seeing that the boys had began playing and were currently making their play at center court. Quatre was at command, dribbling the ball effortlessly while Duo crowded him, the pair of them trading good-natured insults while their teams fumbled for a better set-up.
Sylvia watched as one of Duo’s hands shot forward, snatching the ball from Quatre’s mid-dribble, and the pair were running down her way, toward the hoop. Squealing because they were going much too fast and one of them could trip and slam into her, she scurried away from behind the hoop and hurried toward the bleachers. At the crash of a body meeting with the mats centered behind the hoop, she guessed that she had been just in time.
She smiled as she held her sleeves in place, walking up the bleachers to sit next to Trowa, who was looking utterly bored as he watched the game. She was barely able to contain her excitement and extreme nervousness upon gazing upon his handsome face, and she could feel her knees turning into jelly. His good looks made her do a lot of things, and blushing and stammering were a lot of them. Sure, she liked him–who wouldn’t? She knew many girls that had a crush on the guy, as well as several other guys. Most of all who stopped whatever they were doing in the hall to turn and stare at him as he walked by. Sylvia was no different, but the only thing that kept her separated from the others was that she was able to talk to him.
Having made friends with both Felicia and Quatre had given her the advantage of being a somewhat friend with him. Sure, they exchanged nothing more than a few pleasantries, as he was more interested in his boyfriend or other things, but hey, at least they were talking.
“Hi,” she greeted as she sat, leaning back against the next bleacher. “Who’s winning?”
“They are. Quatre’s just fooling around,” Trowa muttered against his palm, his arm propped by his raised knee and his shoulders slouched.
Sylvia noted the dull tone, the bored expression on the Spaniard’s face. She tore her curious blue eyes away from that handsome visage and stared at the court. Duo had the ball and was looking to make a three, but Quatre was interfering, shouting something as he pulled at Duo’s shorts, threatening to pants him. She giggled at their antics, Duo making a wild shot with one hand and wrapping the blond into a headlock, pulling him onto the court. Winnie saw this and collapsed over both of them, creating a dogpile of sorts as William and Travis noticed this and joined to the pile. Amid all the screaming, shouting, cursing and thrown kicks and punches, Triton was busily trying to make a shot with Heero and Otto all over him, giving the pile dirty looks. Mariemaia, the only girl that hadn’t been scared off by the psycho blond, stood near the free throw line, looking lost as she glanced from the dogpile to the activity near the hoop.
“They’re not very serious tonight, are they?” Sylvia murmured, mainly to herself.
“This is so boring,” Trowa muttered, his hand dropping from his face.
Sylvia wanted to ask why he was here watching, then, but noticed a foul expression cross Trowa’s face as something else progressed on court. Turning, she watched as the boys left their dogpile, Quatre just laying there on his stomach with his hands propping his chin, looking entirely lazy and comfortable there. Triton noticed this and was walking over, placing one large shoe on the blond’s back and pressing down. While Quatre said something vicious, Triton threw his head back and laughed, then tried giving him a wedgie.
It had been obvious, from the moment she’d seen them together, that the senior had a very intense crush on the blond. It was very obvious by the way Triton jerked on Quatre’s chain most of the time, and taking a lot of time and effort to touch the boy. A lot of people commented on it, and while Quatre looked severely annoyed at all times, and definitely not into it, some people made the mention that perhaps he was getting into it as well, as he and Trowa were having problems. Triton gave him the attention Trowa wasn’t–Sylvia thought that was bull-cocky, because much progress had been made on both boys’ parts to be that couple they once were.
But then again, she knew kids liked to talk, and that was one of their favorite subjects because both boys were so good-looking, and Triton was so popular with everyone, and Quatre–well, everyone either hated him or liked him (as long as they didn’t talk to him, of course).
Sylvia licked her lips, then sneaked another glance at Trowa, finding the boy to be glaring rather darkly at the activity. She felt waves of anger coming from him, and ducked her head, trying to mask her smile of amusement. Trowa was so jealous and insecure of anyone talking to Quatre that Felicia had secretly named him “Mr. Aniston”, after Jennifer Aniston, who had displayed jealous fits of temper whenever her hubby was out and about with his co-workers. Of course, Sylvia knew this only from the numerous tabloids the girl kept in her room, so she figured it wasn’t the truth, anyway. But, still, she found Trowa’s insecurities amusing, if not attractive.
Attractive because Trowa must cared so much about the blond, and as such, such love was attractive. She’d tried explaining that to Felicia, but the Native American was having none of that.
Sylvia did have a crush on Trowa–but she had one on William, on Triton, on a Sophomore named Blake, Duo, Wufei (woo! Those glasses!), sometimes Quatre when he wore blue, and sometimes Jacob with his unruly hair. She had many crushes on many guys, but it wasn’t as if she had settled on just one to fully pursue. Candy in the candy store had to be judged and decided upon, tested and examined before purchased.
More shouting from the court brought her attention, in time to see Hiiro scoring a three against William, who was much taller than he. As both teams protested William’s fouling action, Hiiro was busy flexing his muscles and roaring with approval.
Ah...she could sit her all night and watch those athletic boys muscle their way around each other on the court. Their arms were toned with muscle, they worked-out regularly, they were all so good-looking and yummy delicious...
“Ooh, I love them all,” she whispered to herself, staring dreamily as Hiiro flexed his back muscles, displaying an impressive cut and definement of his upper shoulders and back. “Yummy, yummy, yummy!”
Duo was laughing at something, jerking his shirt out of his shorts to wipe his face with, displaying a very flat tummy with a dark trail of hair falling from his navel. Sylvia’s eyes darkened and she practically had to drool over the sight, and with a hungry expression, she watched as Triton wiped his own face with the collar of his shirt, the simple movement displaying toned arms and the occasional peek at the waistband of briefs from underneath the hem.
“You’re forming a puddle at my feet, Sylvia. That’s gross.”
Trowa’s annoyed baritone snapped her out of her reverie, and she snapped her mouth shut, looking at him with an embarrassed expression while she wiped her lips. Her cheeks turned noticeably red and she was aware that she was hot all over.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized with a grin. “They’re just so...yummy! I can’t help it!”
“Only you,” he muttered, drawing his other knee up and resting both arms on them, sinking his chin against the support. “Go oogle somewhere else.”
“Don’t be mean that way, Trowa,” she said on a sigh. “If it makes you feel any better, I wasn’t looking at Quatre at all.”
Trowa gave a snort, looking at her with a fierce glare. Her smile died rather weakly, but she tried to keep it in place. She ended up with her teeth clenched and her eyebrows looking pitifully sorrowful. He looked away, resting his head against his arms.
“Whatever,” he muttered.
“No, seriously. I wasn’t. I was just...damn it, Trowa. You’re bi–can’t you appreciate what hunky goodness is on that basketball court down there?” she protested, gesturing with both arms, then gesturing at the other voyeurs that were here for this same reason. “They all know it. They’re all good-looking and super delicious...look, if it makes you feel any better, you’re very yummy up here, too.”
“Go away. You sound as empty-headed as those freshmen girls over there. Like dick is all that ever matters to you. Grow up and go away.”
She sighed, and rose from her seat. “Fine, fine, fine,” she muttered as she left the bleachers, and crossed over to the other section of the gym, to sit in the bleachers opposite Trowa.
“Mean ass bastard anyway. I don’t see how Quatre even bothers with you. He’s so nice,” she muttered to herself with a grumble, settling herself to watch the boys ‘play’ once more. She got into the game, giggling and murmuring in appreciation as their game progressed. Everyone got to see what color briefs Travis wore after Quatre pantsed him (seemingly doing the same thing to anyone that shot, whether they were on his team or not), that Duo had light brown nipples (William had stripped him of his shirt during a dogpile), and that Otto had a mean dragon tattoo on his upper right shoulder (took his shirt off to change into another before leaving the gym). All in all, she was fully enjoying the show and was already planning on coming back tomorrow.
She watched as Mariemaia tried hard to shoot the ball at one point, but with Quatre crowding her and with no one left to pass to, she bounced the ball off his shoe, the ball rolling out of bounds and in her favor. Quatre gave an annoyed expression but let it at that–Mariemaia was proving her worth on the court, and little by little, the blond was letting up on protesting her being on the court. Mariemaia had some guts, Sylvia thought with a smile. She may be a frosh, but she sure knew how to hang in there.
Sylvia didn’t get basketball–she didn’t know the positions, she didn’t know the reasoning of ‘three seconds’, and she certainly didn’t get the point of ‘back court’. All she knew was that she was definitely going to watch every basketball game the Warriors had this year, and no amount of persuasion was going to keep her from the gym. She would learn the rules, eventually, and she would be able to better appreciate the game. But for now...for now, all she wanted to do was sit and watch. And drool, of course. There was nothing wrong with drooling over the handsome, hard, sweaty, toned–ahem.
She wiped her lips with a smile at herself and clapped in appreciation as Triton took off his sweaty shirt, much to the rabid appreciation of other ‘fans’ that he had within the gym. He flexed his muscles, his upper torso a gleaming display of well-toned pectorals, flat stomach and practically hairless chest save for the dark ‘happy trail’ and underarm patch of fluff. She gave an appreciative whistle from her position as Triton walked off court, earning some smarty-ass remarks from those underneath the hoop. It was all made better when the senior, bypassing his obvious crush, pantsed the blond and revealed to everyone that the blond wore form-fitting boxer-briefs. Quatre turned bright red and pulled his shorts up, his own game turned back on him while everyone shouted.
Sylvia giggled, sure to report this to Felicia when the girl came back from wherever she’d left to, and looked up to see Trowa leaving the gym. She frowned at this, noticing the blackened expression on Trowa’s face as he did. Someone must have pointed out this fact to Quatre, because by the time he was finished socking Duo in the arm for some remark, he hurriedly changed out of his basketball shoes, into his slippers, and was out the door as well. Sylvia sighed and hung her head. Oh, well. Boys would be boys.
She then straightened and began watching the rest of the game, all of which consisted of circus shots and wild whooping, the boys more focused on making impossible shots than concentrating on their game. It was obvious the game was over a few minutes later, when Hiiro packed up and left, and William was looking for a girl to escort to the dormitory.
Sylvia stood from her seat on the bleachers and hurried out from the gym, reaching into her pants pocket for an ever-present sucker. Humming in appreciation, she hurried out the front entrance doors and headed up the walkway toward the dormitory. She figured she would get some homework done before taking a shower and heading to bed. After that, she would have nice, yummy dreams of sweaty, athletic boys. The thought made her drool in anticipation.

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Friday morning, and Quatre found himself staring at Felicia’s severely pale face, her eyes reddened with exhaustion and her shoulders slumped. Her eyelids kept threatening to close, and her face was much too close to her computer monitor. At one point, her eyes stayed shut after blinking and her nose made contact with the monitor, and she’d stayed that way for several seconds, until someone’s cellphone rang and she was fumbling with hers.
“Dude...why don’t you just stay home?” he questioned after she relaxed. “You look like shit.”
“I love your balls, too, Quat,” she murmured in reply, leaning back in her chair, chin propped on her chest. “Nighty-night.”
He stared at her for a few seconds, then shook his head as he arranged his computer monitor just so. “Hey, Trowa and I have a date tonight,” he said happily, excitement coursing through him. “Guess what we’re doing?”
When nothing came in reply, he continued. “We’re going to a charity fundraising dinner and to the Hilton! Isn’t that awesome? I’m going to score tonight! After so fucking long, I’m finally going to get some! I’m so damn excited about that, I have to pinch myself to make sure that it’s absolutely happening! Hey, I was wondering...er...ahem. Felicia?”
Frowning at the lack of response, Quatre glared at her. Then, an expression of mischief crossed his face and he glanced at the instructor to see if she were being attentive. She was busy helping some students with the current homework plans, so he slipped out of his seat and crouched at Felicia’s side. He then quickly untied her Nike Crosstrainers and tied the laces to the legs of her chair, then sat back in his chair.
This will be awesome, he smirked. Teach her to ignore me...
After that was settled, he stared blankly into space, wondering how tonight was going to go. He and Trowa had gone out that Wednesday to rent some suits, and while he felt uncomfortable dressing up that way, he didn’t have no problem doing so, because he was going to be with Trowa. And being with Trowa was a very good thing. Especially when they were inching forward to the more physical aspect of their relationship.
Ooh, just thinking about sex made him shiver with delight. It had been so long–!
And then Mr. Ogre and Justin had to show up that night...what was that about?
He frowned. He did feel bad about using Justin, and it was obvious Justin had felt more than just friendship with him...but couldn’t the guy get it in his head? Quatre and Mr. Ogre definitely would not mesh well. Just the thought of that enormous monstrosity had his ass cheeks flexing in fear. But even with the image burned in his memory, he nervously ventured a daydream about it. Perhaps bent over the bed, with Justin behind him, going VERY slow, and perhaps not entering all the way; or even with him doing the penetrating, and they could have had sex, but...damn. Would a guy with that monstrous size ever be satisfied? Would it ever fit all the way in a body? Holy cow, it was enough to make him wince and tentatively reach back to touch his ass quickly, in reassurance. He knew he was definitely not going to do as such with that guy! Hell no! He was cool to hang out with, and maybe to make-out with, but definitely no sex! Ugh, and even having that thing in his mouth had been torture...
Shaking his head to clear out the thoughts that had taken him this far, Quatre focused on his school work and realized that he wasn’t going to concentrate on it. His thoughts of Trowa were overcrowding his more intelligent brain cells, and no amount of figuring out why his health assignment on Mr. Carlson suffering from high cholesterol levels despite a healthy diet was going to tear him away from thinking about how he wanted the former goth to screw him silly. Or even with him screwing Trowa silly. Ooh, it had been much too long! TOO DAMN LONG!
He was a teenage boy, damn it! He had hormones that desperately needed to be used! And once he had a taste of what was out there, how could Trowa think to keep it from him? Oh, cruel, cruel world... everyone was against him, but then again, he’d decided that this thing with Justin had been the karmic retaliation. But then again, how was that fair when Trowa had confessed to having sex with a woman. A WOMAN. Having sex with her! Going all the way, hitting that ass, claiming the pussy-cat, fucking, sexing, DAMN it! At this rate, he was going to be a puddle of sex-needing goo if he kept this up.
Still...it was rather...interesting. Propping his chin upon his palm, he stared up at the ceiling and wondered how it was for Trowa. Did he enjoy it? Did he find it harder to do it with a woman than a man? Aside from obvious differences, did he even know what to do? What was the woman like? Was she like Quatre? Was she blond? Brunette? Red-haired? Trowa hadn’t gone into details, and it was probably for the best. Did they have sex once? Twice? Did she like what he did? Ooh, Quatre knew that he liked what Trowa did. Trowa had a certain kinky side to him that would have made Quatre shudder with disgust earlier on, but now all that the auburn haired boy did was certainly very arousing and tantalizing. Just thinking about it now made Quatre obtain a hard-on. Shifting uncomfortably, wishing his perverted thoughts away so that he may concentrate on class, he glanced at Felicia.
She had fallen asleep, and hadn’t yet moved from that uncomfortable position. Wondering why the bone-dead tiredness, he frowned and reached over, patting her head. Ah well. She’d forget about being so damn tired when she tried to leave her chair. Only good friends helped their friends forget things.

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Trowa blinked at the various eating utensils that were set around his plate, and wondered why the need for four sets of glasses set before him. Quatre was busily buttering one of the yeast rolls from the center of the table, and the string quartet was playing an upbeat tempo from the far corner of the convention room. The pair were dressed in their rented suits, and both of them were mildly uncomfortable with their settings and the fact that they were going to go through a seven-course meal, but hell–this was a date. Their first date since...how long? Probably since before summer! And even then, all they did were movies and take-out, and perhaps an occasional mini-golf. This was a date–going out at a different setting, getting to know each other once more.
He stared at his boyfriend across the table, at the way the neatly trimmed locks were deftly styled so that bangs hung rather boyishly in the bright blue/green eyes. The shadows of the dim lighting revealed the thinness of Quatre’s face, of the slightly sunken cheeks and the thin facial bones. They also reflected slight bags underneath those familiar eyes, and the firm set of slightly pink lips. Trowa adjusted his napkin over his lap, for something to do. Quatre was so different from the first time Trowa had met him–he’d been so reluctant to display his preferences, and was so maniacally high-strung–he pitched the occasional fit upon some hapless subject, but was pretty calm, considering how he used to freak out about Trowa wearing eyeliner during his goth days.
And he did pull pretty mean things on people–giving that girl a bloody nose among other things (even though, Trowa was convinced that had been an accident–Quatre couldn’t be that mean to someone), and saying things that generally riled up the female population...and he was more outgoing with his preferences and was pretty comfortable with it. Trowa never caught him flirting with another guy or even checking one out, and that was pretty cool–Trowa didn’t know what he’d do if he saw Quatre performing a double take on a deliciously sculpted boy that walked past them.
He was still a little miffed about Triton doing his little attention snagging things–that pantsing deal was just too much for Trowa, especially when Quatre did nothing in retaliation...even though, Triton had been leaving, and it really wasn’t Quatre’s fault, but he’d been pissed because the senior was so obvious... Triton behaved around Quatre as if Trowa weren’t even there, and it pissed him off that the senior did those things!
Well, whatever, it wasn’t like Quatre was into Triton–he saw the mean looks Quatre gave the senior and the annoyed warnings that he gave whenever Triton was bothering him, but still. The senior was so damn obvious and didn’t respect Trowa one bit. Not that Trowa found it important what Triton did or thought, it was just the point of things...
Anyway, Quatre was a far cry from the boy Trowa first met nearly a year ago. The boy was so comfortable doing whatever that Trowa found it hard to adjust to the blond’s lack of innocence in many things. Not that he was complaining, it was just...it was just different. Things had definitely changed from then to now, and while he was liking that they had gotten so far in their relationship, it was definitely a change that he had to cope with. He tried not to lean on the table with an elbow, but he continued staring at his boyfriend, who was keeping himself occupied with his bread rolls. Quatre had lost a lot of weight from all the activity he was pulling, and Trowa had noticed the eating habits. While on some level it alarmed him that Quatre had basically stopped eating just to drop twenty pounds, on another, he found it complimentive that the blond was willing to go to such lengths to please him.
He felt doggedly horrible about it–but what could he do? He now found the blond very attractive and physically desirable again, and it was with that realization that he found himself looking forward toward the honeymoon suite. Just thinking about their previous activities before he’d left for Spain over the summer had blood and heat rushing to his loins. With some delight, he found himself thinking more and more of Quatre than Amelie. He was sure that tonight, when he was screwing Quatre into the bed or having Quatre screw him into the bed, he would be thinking of the blond and not of the brunette. Amelie was growing to be nothing but a vague memory, and while he still felt continuously horrible about it, he realized that he was getting over it in a very good way. With Quatre helping him along, his shame was dropping further and further behind him.
He smiled faintly as the blond rearranged the buttered roll halves on his plate, then promptly shoved the plate away, looking up at Trowa. He smiled, and Trowa felt that same bump-de-bump he had felt earlier on in their relationship. He couldn’t help but smile back, equally as goofy.
“You look nice tonight,” Quatre said, almost shyly. “That suit really fits you.”
“Yours, too,” Trowa returned, feeling his face heat slightly at the compliment. “I like that color blue on you. It brings out your eyes.”
“Ah, ahem. Thank you, Trowa. This is...this is really nice, huh?” Quatre commented, looking around himself at the various intimate tables and much bawdier group tables. The restaurant was filled with society members, all of them rich and snobbish, and there was more than a fair sprinkling of entertainment figures there. While he mentally chucked away the sight of various hot young actors and actresses, Quatre looked back at Trowa and found himself practically melting at the way the candlelight illuminated the boy’s face. The high cheekbones, the harsh angle of his jaw, the way his Adam’s Apple bobbed with his swallows as he drank his Sprite, the way his broad shoulders and slim limbs maneuvered to give him a more comfortable sitting position on the cushioned chair...Quatre was so caught up on his boyfriend’s beauty that he didn’t hear the waiter clearing his throat repeatedly at his side.
Finally, Trowa looked his way then at the waiter, drawing Quatre out of his thoughts.
“Er, I’ll have the meat,” he stammered, wondering why that sounded so very suggestive. His face burned as he looked at Trowa, wondering if what he’d said was the right thing.
Trowa snorted, and hid his grin behind his hand. The meal was designed in meat-lover’s, vegetarian, half-and-half, or the soup line–he knew what Quatre wanted from the meal, but was secretly pleased that the blond was thinking more along the lines of what was to come afterward.
“I’ll have the half-and-half,” he ordered, the waiter nodding as he took their meal tickets and walked off.
“Trowa...did I say that right? It sounded so wrong,” Quatre hissed across the table, looking mortified.
“It only sounded wrong because you’re thinking wrong,” Trowa pointed out, smiling. “Not that there’s anything wrong with it...”
Quatre licked his lips, straightening in his chair. “Yeah...it’s been awhile, Trowa. You know that.”
“I know, Quat. But...I had to deal with my own issues before I could...you know.” Trowa looked guiltily at the table, fiddling with the numerous utensils at his disposal. “There isn’t enough apologies in the world I can use to...make up to you with, Quatre.”
“Trowa...don’t even think about that tonight, all right?” Quatre said softly, shaking his head. “Don’t even bring that up. I love you. I got over it. I just want ‘us’, again.”
“I love you, too, Quat.” Trowa flashed him a grateful smile, and fiddled with his drink contents. As ice clinked in the glass, he looked at the table. “Look...I want this night to be entirely special. Everything. We’re going to...get to know each other again. And afterward...at the room...”
“I can’t wait!”
“I know, Quat,” Trowa said with another smile, fidgeting in his chair. “I can’t either. It’s been a long time. You’re so beautiful...”
Quatre felt his face heat, his cheeks turning red. With an embarrassed air, he covered his cheeks with his hands, looking at the table. “Geez...you make me feel like some girl, Trowa.”
“You’re not. But you are beautiful, Quatre. I have to let you know more often.”
“Not too much, all right? Because...I don’t know how to handle that sort of compliment,” Quatre stammered, fiddling and dropping his fork as he grew flustered at the compliment.
Trowa chuckled, leaning forward on the table. The tables were draped with pretty maroon tablecloths, of which hung down to the floor. So no one would pay too much attention as he drew his leg towards Quatre’s, entwining it with the blond’s, hooking his ankle comfortably. Quatre looked at him, smiling slightly, and the two just stared at each other in content, oblivious to all.

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The dinner passed by with much fanfare–the meal took over three hours long, and by the time they declared themselves full, the restaurant was filling with reporters and photographers, eager to catch the famous faces in the act of eating. Trowa and Quatre left after their fifth course, and hand in hand, left for the NPHilton. The tall, massive building was crowded within the downtown district of New Park City, and was illuminated by various lights.
Quatre clutched his boyfriend’s hand very tightly, nervously anticipating their stay in the honeymoon suite. Of course, they weren’t spending the night–just using it for convenience that the dorms couldn’t provide for obvious reasons. His stomach was fluttering nervously, and he’d barely been able to eat, the anticipation of their next activities causing him to have trouble just drawing the fork to his mouth. The food had been delicious–roast beef, glazed ham, well done chicken, savory bits of pork...his mouth drooled with a momentous rush, and he quickly wiped his lips, focusing up at Trowa with a grin. Trowa looked down at him, and smiled right back, displaying whitened, straightened, and perhaps the most straightest teeth Quatre had ever seen on a person.
His grin got even wider as they neared the hotel, having taken to the sidewalk instead of using a cab, for ‘warm-up’ activities. His palm was getting moist with his excitement, so he dropped Trowa’s hand and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. Still decked out in their suits, Quatre felt wholly uncomfortable with it, but went along with the proceeding because they hadn’t brought any extra clothes. Trowa had said that he had everything prepared in the room, and Quatre would just have to trust him.
He’d left his cellphone at the room–he didn’t need any interruptions when his attention would be truly on Trowa. He was going to pay so much attention to Trowa that Trowa was going to be overwhelmed. The thought of getting to that model’s body made his fingers itching, curling with temptation. His knees were growing weak, and he wished desperately that they were at the room already, so they could begin! Over five months had been too long without SEX!
When they finally arrived, Quatre was just in awe at the beautiful scenery–the lobby was huge, boasting mountainous water fountains and greenery, with all the workers decked out in scarily beautiful worker’s clothes, and the Hilton sisters’ paintings were posted variously throughout the walls leading to the entertainment area, and he wrinkled his nose, thinking that rather tacky. He never understood why Nicky and Paris were so fanatically interesting to the rest of the world.
Trowa held his hand again, and Quatre could feel that his boyfriend’s hand was slightly moist as well, heated with his own excitement. Quatre beamed up at him as they reached the elevator, and he took the time to glance around, noting the spectacular costumes of several showgirls that were running through the lobby in stilettos, heading through the entertainment hall.
“Nervous?” Trowa grinned at him as they waited for the elevator, a couple of Chinese tourist groups arriving around them, waiting for the elevator as well.
Quatre couldn’t talk–he merely gazed up at his boyfriend’s face and hoped that his anticipating expression said it all. Trowa chuckled lowly, and bent, kissing him briefly, causing the tourists to remark rather disgustedly. Uncaring of their audience, Quatre caught Trowa’s chin before the boy could retreat, and gave him a full, desirous kiss, tongue and all.
Since they were the only ones that ended up riding the elevator all the way up to their room, they made use of the emptiness for a few well-placed gropes and more frantic kissing, groping their way out of the elevator and heading down the massive hall and around the corner toward the suite. Trowa reluctantly drew away from Quatre’s hungry lips and managed to fumble the keycard from his pocket, to open the room.
Walking in, undoing his tie, Quatre stared open mouthed at the perfectly dim, tactful setting, the floor to ceiling windows covered in white swarthy material, overlooking New Park City’s East side. Whistling lowly, he walked down the slight steps as Trowa shut and locked the door, and Quatre examined the comfortable but hopelessly Martha Stewart settings on his right, which was complete with whole sectionals of living room furniture, holoset, marble end tables, lamps that curved upward in the shape of clouds, the rug plushy and overly spicy...wow. It even smelled of roses and lavender, and as he tugged off his jacket, he stared at the left section, and spotted the massive bed that seemed to take up the entire left half of the suit–the room was massive, and yet simply furnished with a simple round table for a lamp, a custom-made basket of roses, champagne and complimentary tickets to the bar and entertainment area downstairs, and the room smelled lovingly of soft, pretty things. Throughout the room, there were small vases of lilies and roses, all of them adding to a beauteous and pretty smell.
His mind evoking a girls’ underwear drawer for some strange reason, he turned to let Trowa know what he was thinking when the other boy charged at him, practically sweeping him off his feet as he met his lips in a very sexually charged kiss.
Automatically focused on this moment, Quatre gave a small moan and wrapped his arms around Trowa’s neck, and the pair practically shuffled over to the bed, their lips locked passionately. Needing so much from his lover, Quatre was practically a puddle of manipulative goo as Trowa’s tongue explored his mouth with wet, sensational care, lifting the blond from the floor and practically slamming him back onto the firm, yet soft bed. Quatre wrapped his legs around Trowa’s hips, pulling him close as hands fumbled with buttons and belt buckles.
The lights in the room hadn’t yet been turned on, but the lights from the other section of the room was more than enough to light their way. When Quatre’s hands found the familiar territory of Trowa’s chest, the skin warm upon contact, he removed his mouth from insistent lips and began marking the caramel tinted skin. Material was torn, and he wasn’t sure if it were his, or Trowa’s, but whomever’s it was, it was out of the way. His fingers fumbled with nipples, flicking and moisturizing with his tongue, and strong hands groped their way from his hips to his groin.
Letting out a long moan, pushing into that familiar handling, Quatre felt suddenly panicked and desperate for more, and he clawed at Trowa’s shirt, dragging it off from hastily maneuvering arms and upper torso. Then, when Trowa was completely bare from waist up, Quatre moved to his knees, wrapping his arms around the heated skin of his lover’s chest and attacking the long, graceful throat, licking and nipping.
Trowa moaned loudly, tilting his chin up to allow him more access, and Quatre found his pants being roughly torn from his hips, so he moved away from Trowa’s body to kick the annoying material away from him, fully naked before his boyfriend. Trowa’s hands swept over his back, massaging the newly toned muscle, and then snaked their way down to his ass cheeks. Long fingers squeezed with appreciation and care, massaging the firm globes as Quatre panted against his neck, licking the strong lines of Trowa’s collarbone and pressing his hips forward against Trowa’s.
He fumbled with the belt buckle and button, his fingers hurriedly dipping into the half open slacks to find Trowa’s arousal. With a small sound of satisfaction, he gripped the familiar hard cock within one hand and began to pump, whimpering when he felt Trowa’s hands shift from his ass and maneuver to his own hard dick. Trowa nudged his chin out of the way, suckling at his neck, evoking strong cries from Quatre as he practically jerked hard on the cock before him. He let go of the warm, curved dick and pulled Trowa on top of him, pressing his hips forward, needing to be filled.
“Hold still,” Trowa hissed, shifting about as his hands left Quatre’s dick, the blond left moaning piteously as Trowa shifted away from the bed and fumbled with something near the round table. Lifting his head, Quatre watched the slim form of Trowa lurk about in the darkened room, and he began stroking himself, his legs already weak with anticipation of his boyfriend’s body on his. When Trowa came back, fingers fumbling with a complimentary tube of lubrication, Quatre gave a happy hum as he latched onto Trowa’s lips with his own, seeking out his tongue.
“No foreplay?” Trowa asked, shifting on the bed, still encased in his slacks and shoes. He noted with a half grin that Quatre still had on his socks.
“NO! NOW!” Quatre commanded between hasty kisses, wrapping his arms around Trowa’s neck and pulling him down, lifting his hips up with bodily demand.
Trowa was used to such things, and could only grin as he fumbled with the lube–his cock was standing high at attention, ready and willing to perform its service as Quatre’s hands swept over his arms and back, finally pulling at his hips.
Trowa quickly shifted his pants down to his knees, and hastily applied the warm goo to his cock, then coated his fingers. Thrusting the bottle aside with no regard to capping it, or even caring where it went, he bent on all fours, and found his boyfriend’s willing body before him, Quatre’s legs spread. He climbed over the boy, shifting slightly as he found the familiar pink pucker, and as his fingers began dabbling inside, he captured the blond’s lips with his own, drinking in the small noises of pleasure and discomfort that Quatre gave as he shifted uncomfortably against Trowa’s body.
“You all right? You okay?” Trowa could only whisper as he began stretching the muscle, which was tight and unused, easing him slightly to know that if Quatre had cheated on him, then he sure as hell couldn’t tell, because this ass felt very much virgin. He eased his fingers into the canal, feeling Quatre buck against him, moaning deep in his throat as his fingers clutched Trowa’s shoulders, and practically raked his skin with his nails. Wincing, but unable to drop his smile, Trowa fitted the blunt head of his cock against the stretched muscle, and began easing in.
Quatre held him tightly, lifting his hips, pushing against him, and making continuously small noises in his throat, panting heavily as he forced Trowa deeper within him. Trowa’s eyes slid closed in pleasure as he felt the familiar hold of his lover’s body clenching him, holding him tightly in place. He bent his head, searching out his boyfriend’s lips, and finding them. Urgently, he swept his tongue within the panting cavity, and muffled the half-cries and moans that Quatre gave as Trowa pushed himself in all the way. Shifting again, Trowa curled his arms underneath Quatre’s shaking legs and adjusted them high, shrugging them over his shoulders.
Quatre could only lose himself in the pleasure he felt upon Trowa’s entrance, at the way he felt both full and in major discomfort all at the same time. Whimpering, he held onto Trowa’s shoulders, and half-pulled and pushed as Trowa eased his cock out halfway, the abnormal shape of his dick scraping against Quatre’s insides. The very feel of such a thing made Quatre’s entire body stiffen, with both unfamiliarity and yet familiarity at the same time. He gripped Trowa’s shoulders and gave a half-sob, his body seizing with sensation.
When Trowa began moving, slightly, as to keep from hurting him, Quatre pressed his back against the bed and tried to ease away from that discomfort he felt. Even though, at the same time, he felt insanely wild enough to frantically start moving in earnest against the impalement of Trowa’s cock. His fingers trembled violently, and his chest felt tight as Trowa continued to ease out of him. Squeezing his eyes shut, Quatre lifted his hips, taking in the retreating dick with a loud cry, feeling totally uncomfortable with the movement, as he hadn’t experienced sex for the last five months.
“It’s all right, it’s all right,” Trowa’s words were whispered against his ear, but Quatre wanted to get moving. He felt tears of discomfort leak from his eyelids, but he was so desperate for Trowa’s bodily attention that it didn’t matter. He moved his hips again, feeling his body slowly adjust to the invasion, and pulled Trowa down to him, the movement forcing Trowa deeper with him. He cried out against Trowa’s lips, but kissed him fiercely, holding his face between his hands.
Suckling on his boyfriend’s tongue, Quatre continued to make his noises as Trowa slowly began moving, pulling out and sinking in, repeating the motion, his knees being adjusted to the slim muscle of Trowa’s shoulders. Pressing himself hard against the bed, Quatre felt his hips buck against Trowa’s, eager to get moving.
“Slow down,” Trowa whispered against his ear once more, taking the lobe between his lips, suckling and sponging the back with his tongue. The wet noises were insanely desiring–Quatre found himself giving another half-sob, his arms wrapping tightly around Trowa’s neck, pulling himself into an uncomfortable position as he was bent in half, Trowa’s upper half pressing against him, with his own thighs pressing against his chest. Trowa began moving a little faster, sliding in and out with ease, and Quatre found himself totally growing warm all over, the heat transferring to his groin, growing hotter, and hotter as Trowa began moving faster.
Trowa then switched his angling, and hit the spongy mass of Quatre’s prostate. If Quatre wasn’t loud then, he was definitely louder now, crying out loudly and moving quickly, trying to get Trowa to hit that mass once more. Trowa was more than willing to comply, uttering his own noises against Quatre’s ear as he continued to press against that pleasure spot with the curved head of his cock, loving the way the blond responded to him, loving the way Quatre made him feel.
Quatre heard himself getting more and more vocal, his head tilted back on the bed, mouth open as noises escaped, and Trowa was breathing heavily, his breath wet and harsh against his ear, his hips pounding with a loud clap against the lower curve of his ass, Quatre’s feet bouncing in the air with the movement. Quatre could feel his orgasm nearing, such a simple task after months of pent-up desire, and he could feel that it was a strong one. He started getting louder, his cheeks flexing tightly, the white-hot feeling expanding and clenching as a few more strokes brought him closer and closer to the edge. He could feel Trowa’s body sweat dripping on him, and could smell the scent of their bodies wafting in the air, the sounds of their frantic sex accompanying the noise of their combined vocal releases.
Practically incoherent of all thought, Quatre gripped Trowa tightly with both his arms and his inner passage, and found himself orgasming hard, releasing his semen between their bodies with a loud wail. His body seemed to clench in on itself, all tight and warm, and thought was lost on him as he shook violently, feeling entirely detached from the whole act. Panting heavily, blinking to clear away the fog, he slowly came to realize that Trowa was still pounding into him, finding his own orgasm a few minutes later.
Removing Quatre’s legs from his shoulders, Trowa found strength to collapse half-heartedly on his boyfriend’s sweaty torso, panting harshly as he listened to the rapid heartbeat of his lover beneath him. His still-hard cock trapped within the now gooey channel was pulsating with the aftereffects of his own orgasm, and he had to shake his head in grim amusement. That was the hardest and strongest orgasm he’d ever felt from his blond, and it had still effected the poor boy. The trim, hard body beneath him was trembling, throughout his arms and legs, and Trowa knew if he tried to get the boy to move, he’d receive nothing more than a throaty moan or protest that didn’t make sense.
Utterly proud and completely exhausted from the act, which lasted no more than eight minutes (he’d timed himself by the digital clock near the bed, on the nightstand), Trowa lifted his head from the sweaty chest of his boyfriend and grinned at him in the darkness.
“Damn, Quat,” he breathed, placing kisses on the moist skin, gently sliding his softened member from his boyfriend’s body. Moving onto all fours, he found his boyfriend’s mouth, and kissed him deeply, lavishing the limp tongue and the slightly dry recesses of the cavity. Smiling once more at the exhausted state his boyfriend was in, Trowa felt his pride expand tenfold. He brushed his fingers up the still trembling body and found Quatre’s sweaty hair, brushing through the flaxen locks with a loving kiss on the warm forehead.
“Don’t move me,” Quatre whined, turning his head to the side, having finally caught his breath and was now feeling blissfully exhausted. Trowa murmured something he couldn’t hear, shifting to his side. “I can’t move...”
“That was awesome, huh?” Trowa quipped, kicking off his pants and underwear, and shifting to take off the socks that were still encasing size ten and a half feet. He paused in throwing a shirt he’d found at the edge of the mattress completely off the bed, and used that to wipe off Quatre’s cum from his body, and to gently clean the mess made on Quatre’s own body. Thrusting the shirt aside, happy that he’d thought to bring extra clothes when he came by the other day, he then kissed his way up Quatre’s shins, to his knees, to his trembling thighs, to the softened member that lay nestled within wiry golden curls, then to the firm belly, taking his time to explore the slit of his navel. “I think you just lost your reserves on me, man.”
“Told you...it’s been...a long time,” Quatre said, shivering violently when Trowa maneuvered his way to his nipples, giving them special attention. For a few minutes, Quatre savored the attention, running his hands through the oddly styled auburn hair as his nipples were toyed with.
Trowa, licking his lips, moved to kiss Quatre once more, allowing the other to taste what he’d acquired on his journey up from his feet. Quatre was so totally lost in the kiss, running his fingers through the cropped hair and drawing Trowa down on top of him, that when the phone rang, he was thoroughly startled, jerking violently and ending up pulling hard on Trowa’s hair. “The fuck–?”
“Shit. Hold on, Quat,” Trowa muttered, wincing as he rubbed his scalp. With an incredulous expression, Quatre pulled up on his elbows, watching as Trowa moved to answer his cellphone.
“Trowa!” he protested as Trowa left the bed, his slim body silhouetted by the other room’s lights.
“I’m sorry, Quat. Catherine’s still in Spain. It might be an emergency,” Trowa apologized, feeling bad about it, but it was true. He dug his cellphone out from his jacket pocket, his jacket having been lost between rooms. He found the phone, and anxiously checked the window of the BlackBerry. Seeing that it was indeed Catherine, he activated the call and walked back to Quatre, climbing on the bed next to him.
Quatre was irritated, but had exhausted himself in the frantic sex, so he wasn’t about to complain just yet. Trowa answered the call with a casual greeting, shifting against Quatre so that their naked bodies could touch, hip to hip. Needing to refresh his energy reserves, Quatre rolled his eyes when he heard Catherine shriek something on the other end.
“Calm down, Cathy,” Trowa sighed, one hand reaching out to softly fondle Quatre’s limp member, making the blond shift into the touch with a soft sound in his throat. “What’s wrong? Sicily driving you up the wall?”
Catherine continued to shriek, and when Trowa’s grip on Quatre’s dick turned gruesomely vicious, Quatre gave a strong whimper and looked at Trowa in annoyance as he pushed his hand away. But what he saw made him pause, as Trowa looked absolutely devastated, his face visible even in the dark. Alarmed, Quatre rose onto his side, facing Trowa as Trowa sat straight up, Catherine continuing to shriek. Because he could hear her voice, but not her words, Quatre had to assume that it was something terribly devastating for both Trowa and her to be acting that way. He shifted closer, trying to hear what was being said.
“What?!” Trowa’s baritone turned into something completely girlish.
Quatre stared at him in a mixture of surprise and confusion, and leaned in close against the phone, hearing Catherine’s shrill voice shriek something about a Mrs. Robinson and some movie made in Spain. Trowa shoved him away, pretty hard, so Quatre straightened with a bewildered frown as Trowa rose from the bed, pacing in agitated manner.
“Please tell me you’re fucking joking!” Trowa cried, face in his hand as he continued to listen to Catherine shriek on.
Quatre rose from the bed, fretting, unsure of what was going on. He winced when he felt the stretch and discomfort of his anus, semen dripping down his leg, so he hurried off the bed and groped the floor for something to clean himself with.
Finally, in frustration and fury, Trowa flung his cell phone away from him on a very long, harsh cry that had Quatre jumping in surprise. Trowa then hid his face in his hands, sinking to the floor, shaking violently. Quatre looked away from him, then hurried over to the phone, seeing that it was still in one piece, and Catherine was shouting for him. With a cautious glance in his boyfriend’s direction, he picked up the phone, answering softly.
“YOU! YOU FUCKING DICK! I FUCKING HATE YOU!”
Quatre was startled. He looked at the phone as if it would attack him, then held it back to his ear, if not cautiously, in case she might somehow appear out from the screen. “What’d I do?!”
“Whatever you didn’t do drove him to–!”
“QUATRE! HANG UP!” Trowa screamed at him, rising from the floor.
Quatre quickly hung the phone up, but he was left wondering what he didn’t do. Trowa snatched the phone away from him, and hurled it across the room once more, this time succeeding in breaking the thing. As it shattered into tiny bits and pieces, Quatre stared at Trowa, who must have been possessed by something entirely demonic. Sighing, he reached up to rub the back of his neck, looking up at Trowa’s heavily agitated face. Something...was not right. Something...something entirely bad must have occurred for Trowa to turn so damn pale, for his boyfriend to shake as if he were having a seizure. And it must be something so utterly horrible for him to be so...violently wronged.
“Trowa?” he questioned softly, reaching for him.
Trowa shied away from him with a harsh cry. “Don’t touch me!”
“Trowa? What the fuck is wrong?” Quatre exclaimed, completely bewildered as to why Trowa was acting in such a way.
Trowa shook his head, hiding his face once more in his hands. He sank back down onto the floor, his knees weakened. Still shaking violently, he bent his head forward, ignoring Quatre, who stood helplessly nearby.
Sighing, Quatre turned, looking for his underwear. Finding it somewhere near the foot of the bed, he reached for it, pulling it on, grumbling about his newfound dislike for older sisters and the trouble they caused. Trowa heard him. As Quatre found and pulled on his shirt, Trowa was up from the floor and knocking him violently aside.
“SHUT UP!” Trowa screamed, voice cracking with the force.
Caught fully unprepared by the unprovoked attack, Quatre lost his balance and slammed hard against the night stand, pain exploding in his face.
Trowa instantly lost it, crying aloud with misery and utter horror at his situation, crouching near the bed, burying his face once more in his hands. Quatre lifted up from the floor, in numb shock over the situation and the sudden dripping of blood on the carpet. He lifted a hand, finding that he’d busted his lip on the night stand. Very much unaware of why Trowa was acting in such a way, he quickly shuffled away from the misery ladled boy and stumbled toward the bathroom. Without words, he hurriedly snatched handfuls of toilet paper and pressed the wad against his lip, stanching the blood flow. It ached, stung and grew, swelling immediately.
Hiding out in the bathroom, Quatre sat at the edge of the tub and held the wad against his lip, wondering what it was that Catherine had said to set Trowa off. Miserable, he stared at the floor, listening for any sound to indicate what Trowa was doing in the other room. More so, he had to wonder what he was doing wrong for Trowa to do what he did. Whatever that meant. Unless...some nightmare had just come to life, and Trowa did, somehow, find out about him and Justin. Which had his gut twisting in nervous knots as he rose from the edge of the tub and cautiously ventured outside, to see if Trowa was out there.
He walked out from the bathroom just in time to see Trowa striding out the door, slamming it loudly behind him. He ran over to the door, tugging it open and placing himself between the door and the frame, clad only in his shirt and underwear, yelling, “Where are you going?!”
“OUT!!!”
“Are you coming back?! TROWA!!?”
When Trowa ignored him, turning a sharp corner toward the elevators, Quatre groaned in frustration, and hit the doorframe with an angry growl. Because that wasn’t satisfying enough, he kicked the doorframe, and slammed the door wide open as he walked back into the room. Then he slammed the door shut as hard as he possibly could, the sound vibrating throughout the hall and the room, and he felt angry enough to just start in on the small and the throwable. He eyed the nearby flower vase, and even went so far to pick it up and hurl it----in the direction of the massive bed, where it landed gently, spilling out water and fresh cut lilies over the expensive comforter and bed sheets, which had been strewn aside in their earlier display of passion.
Reaching up to his hair, he gripped it tightly within both hands and screamed with frustrated fury.