When It Rains, Chapter Two

When It Rains
by Michalyn
Rating: MA

Quatre sat comfortably swathed in the soft folds of the blanket … and in the savory aroma of spices. The small blond chatted animatedly while he ate, one hand holding the edges of the blanket together; in the other he deftly wielded the silver fork, savoring the rich flavor of the meal.

“Mmm, Tro, this is absolutely delicious.” He sipped the darkly gleaming wine in his glass, admiring the vivid color. “Et le vin…” Quatre’s eyes closed, “Wonderful…”

“Hmm? Ah thank you, Little One.”

Trowa could have been eating sawdust for all he cared. He was much more distracted by Quatre’s bare shoulder, exposed through the parted folds of the blanket. When Trowa taken the sodden bundle of clothes from the gentle blond, he had been unable to ignore the pair of silky blue boxers topping the pile. The knowledge that Quatre was gloriously naked beneath the flimsy barrier of cloth was a teasing, tantalizing torture. Trowa had done nothing throughout the meal but imagine in agonizing detail just what treasures lay beneath that blanket.

Trowa watched as Quatre brought another forkful to his lips, his gaze fixed on the sensuous bow of the Arabian’s mouth and the crushed berries of his lips. Quatre seemed even more beautiful in the soft light of the dining room. His cheeks were flushed, and his damp hair, curling slightly at the ends, was a shining cap in the amber glow of the lamplight. Trowa wanted to taste every shade of creamy vanilla, soft rose and gold that was Quatre—and then come back for more.

Mentally, Trowa groaned. His thoughts were having a rather pronounced effect on the fit of his jeans, and discreetly he rearranged himself. Trowa thought of the long night ahead of him and sighed. This really would not do. He had to stop this ridiculous self-torture or he’d be up all night—literally as well as figuratively.

Quatre glanced over at Trowa, who had been withdrawn and somewhat distracted throughout the meal. Was something wrong? No … it didn’t seem so. Usually he could sense if Trowa was troubled, and he sensed nothing of the sort. Perhaps Trowa just had a lot on his mind. Quatre had been distracted himself throughout the meal. Trowa’s green eyes sparkled in the light, and the rich autumn tones of his silky auburn hair seemed to beckon his caress.

As always, Quatre was mesmerized by the perfection of sinew and limb. Every action Trowa executed was with the precise graceful movements of a cat, at times deceptively lazy, but always sensual. Tonight, Trowa seemed to be radiating a strange energy that he could only describe as … heat. It was like being caressed by a single delicious flame—pleasurable, in and of itself, but only hinting at the true intensity of the fire.

Quatre thought perhaps he had had too much wine to drink. He didn’t drink often, and he did feel a tad lightheaded. It was no doubt the cause of these unusual feelings. All things considered, he was quite grateful for the voluminous folds of the blanket, which successfully hid his arousal. Quatre could only imagine the embarrassment of rising from the table with a raging hardon. It was definitely not something he wanted to experience first hand.

The meal being finished, Trowa contemplated his options. He could leave the table now and reveal to Quatre just how much he’d been enjoying his company, or he could wait for the blond to leave and hopefully he’d regain some measure of control over his body before he joined Quatre in the bedroom. But how to explain to his love that he wanted to remain seated at the table when it was obvious there was no reason for doing so? No, that wouldn’t work. He’d have to think of something else. Hmm, that empty salad bowl was quite large. Placed strategically…

“Trowa, why don’t we spend the rest of the evening reading together … or we could just relax and listen to music?”

“That sounds lovely, Little One. Why don’t you go on ahead? I’ll be right behind you.”

Quatre beamed. He moved to rise from the table, carefully clutching the blanket. He was already pushing in his chair when he stopped.

“Oh, but the dishes,” he said his tone full of chagrin, “I should help. You prepared such a wonderful meal and I here I’ve done nothing but lounge around for the whole day. You go on, I’ll stay behind to do the washing up.”

“Ah, that’s really not necessary, love. I’ll do the dishes. Besides how would you manage, with one hand holding up the blanket?”

Quatre looked down at the soft material clutched in his palm.

“Oh yes,” he said, a faint blush mounting his cheeks. “I had forgotten. Well, I’ll go shower while you’re cleaning up in here.”

Trowa rose from the table as Quatre left the room. He moved around the table, stacking the dirty dishes. Placing them in the sink, he turned on the hot water and began washing. He hoped the mundane activity would help keep his mind off Quatre. He could hear the hum of the water as the blond showered, and Trowa tried his damnedest not to imagine a naked Quatre, skin slick from the water. Instead, he focused on the swirls of soap disappearing down the drain. His frustration, he unleashed on the hapless kitchenware. Reaching for a thoroughly caked pan, he set to scrubbing vigorously.

————————————

Quatre stepped out of the shower and reached for one of the towels hanging on the nearby rack. Drying off, he wrapped the towel around his waist and padded into the bedroom. The air felt delightfully cool against his bare flesh as he rummaged through his clothes in search of a pair of pajamas. Finding the silky garment, he unwrapped the towel and discarded it on the bed. He shrugged into the pajama top, glancing down at his unruly flesh with a grimace. Not even the cold shower had been enough to completely ease his erection. He eyed the pajama bottoms. Perhaps he should reconsider silk, in favor of something less …revealing. Quatre walked over to the dresser. He was sure he had a pair of sweatpants in there somewhere.…

Trowa untied the apron at his waist and dropped it into the laundry hamper on his way out of the kitchen. His arousal remained a dull ache in his loins, and while not completely abated, he felt he could now face Quatre without causing undue embarrassment to them both. To his surprise, though, Quatre was not reading on the couch as expected. Trowa had heard the water shut off some minutes ago and had assumed that the blond was already dressed and comfortably curled up with a book. Admittedly, Trowa had taken longer than he expected in the kitchen. Perhaps Quatre had decided to wait for him in the bedroom. After all, Quatre had merely suggested an evening together; it was Trowa who’d assumed that they’d remain in the den.

Trowa walked to the bedroom, pushing open the door, which was already slightly ajar. He entered, an apology for keeping his love waiting, ready on his lips.

“Little One I…” Trowa’s words faded to nothingness as he was confronted by the sight of Quatre, clad only in the indigo pajama top, rummaging through the dresser drawers. The blond looked up, horrified at the sound of the taller man’s voice.

“Tr…Trowa!” he squeaked, blushing and stammering as he frantically grabbed the first item of clothing his hand landed upon, thinking to use it to shield himself. Dismally he discovered it was a sock which dangled from his fingers. Quatre could feel his cheeks flame even brighter crimson as he used his hands to cover his nudity as best he could.

This definitely was not his day.

Closing the door softly behind him, Trowa walked up to Quatre, who seemed rooted to the spot, cheeks scarlet as he tried to shield himself. Looking into the blond’s wide eyes, Trowa gently pulled Quatre’s hands away, holding them lightly at his sides.

“Don’t hide,” he said softly, voice husky with desire. “I’ve been dying to see you like this all evening.” Slowly, Trowa released Quatre’s wrists.

Quatre was torn between embarrassment at being exposed to Trowa’s gaze and the desire that surged through him at the sound of his love’s desire-darkened voice, and the hungry caress of his eyes. Quatre’s hands remained at his sides, trembling slightly as he fought the conflicting emotions.

Trowa’s eyes feasted on the sight before him. The smaller pilot was slender and sleekly muscled, and his fair skin gleamed like a pearl under the soft lights. His gaze fell to the golden curls at Quatre’s groin, where he discovered that he had not been alone in his desire. Quatre’s hardened length, jutted proudly before him, moisture beading at its tip. Slowly, irresistibly, Trowa dragged his thumb over the sensitive head, causing Quatre to jerk forward, crying out in shock as pleasure arced through him.

“Beautiful,” Trowa murmured, capturing Quatre’s soft lips in a gentle kiss. Lightly, he nipped at the blond’s sensuous lower lip, running his tongue over the seam of Quatre’s closed lips, coaxing him to invite him into the honeyed softness of his mouth. Quatre eagerly parted his lips, his tongue tentatively mating with Trowa’s as his hands moved to clasp Trowa’s neck, drugged, by the unique taste of his lover. Quatre had never imagined that a kiss could be like this—sweet and burning and everything in between.

The tentative movements of Quatre’s mouth and body heated Trowa’s blood like nothing he had felt before. He savored the slide of silk over skin as he caressed Quatre’s back, and his hands gripped the blond’s hips, pulling him forward, until the hard proof of Quatre’s naked desire was pressed against Trowa’s belly. They both gasped at the contact, electricity seeming to spiral out from that point where their bodies met.

Reverently, Trowa lifted Quatre in his arms and placed him on the bed, his heart aching with the beauty of the boy beneath him—this beautiful angel who had saved his soul. Trowa stared into Quatre’s eyes, memorizing every detail of the blond’s face—the smooth forehead, the tawny wings of his eyebrows, the dusky crescents of his lashes as they fanned against his cheeks. He placed soft, butterfly kisses on each part his gaze fell over, savoring the feather-light caress of Quatre’s lashes against his lips. Trowa followed the line of the slender, slightly upturned nose down to the softly parted lips, tongue stealing inside once more to taste of Quatre’s sweetness.

Quatre clasped the back of Trowa’s neck, fingers caressing the hair at the sensitive nape. The tender kisses Trowa was showering upon him spoke of love and trust and a deep passion. Quatre’s heart ached with the beauty of the experience. This was all he had ever wanted, right here in his arms. His arms tightened around Trowa as he deepened the kiss, the movements of his body mirroring the message of his heart.

Trowa savored the answering thud of Quatre’s heartbeat against his own as the blond held him in his arms. He broke the kiss to mouth the tender flesh beneath Quatre’s ear, his lips moving upwards, sucking the tender lobe of Quatre’s ear into his mouth. Quatre, gasped at he sensation, fingers clenching in Trowa’s hair as Trowa continued his gentle seduction, trailing kisses along Quatre’s jaw, the pale column of his throat, and suckling gently at the hollow of his winged collarbones.

He teased the rosy nub of a nipple through the silky material of Quatre’s shirt, feeling the tiny bud stiffen beneath his touch. Taking the silky cloth between his fingers, Trowa stroked the cool material lightly and repeatedly over the tender flesh. Slowly, deliberately, he outlined each erect nub through the cloth with his tongue, delighting in the heat that bloomed beneath Quatre’s flesh, and the languid arching of the smaller man’s body as he was held on the prongs of desire by the whisper-light caresses.

Trowa removed the shirt from his love’s body, deliberately, brushing the sensitive nubbins as he did so and Quatre whimpered, shocked by the live wire of sensation that connected his nipples to his hardened length. The hot wet suction of Trowa’s mouth covered one turgid peak, tongue stabbing, and teeth raking the tiny nipple, while his hands tormented its partner, shaping the nubbin to rigidity.

By the time Trowa’s mouth strayed across to his other nipple, Quatre was shuddering, incoherent sounds of passion falling from his lips as he begged Trowa to end the torture, but there was sweeter territory yet to be discovered.

Trowa’s fingers tangled in Quatre’s soft golden nether curls, idly drawing circles through the gleaming thatch. The muscles of Quatre’s stomach tightened as Trowa placed soft kisses on the smooth flesh, burying his face in the nest of Quatre’s pubic hair and inhaling deeply of the boy’s musk. Embarrassed, Quatre tried to pull away, but Trowa’s hands held his hips firmly in place as his tongue traced the deep lines where muscular torso and thigh met.

His head dipped lower to Quatre’s distended length and the blond jerked, emitting a startled cry at the feel of Trowa’s tongue tracing the length of his violently sensitive flesh. Encouraged, Trowa placed an open-mouthed kiss at the plum-shaped tip of Quatre’s erection. At the burning center of the kiss, his tongue dipped into the sensitive slit. The tang of Quatre’s passion burst across Trowa’s lips as he delicately lapped at the tip, catching the single pearl that had escaped Quatre’s control. Making a guttural sound of pleasure, Trowa took the blond’s length in his mouth, slowly tracing the ridge of the vein on the underside of his hardness.

The first time Trowa had done this, he had thrown up afterwards, his bruised body curled into a fetal ball. He had never been able to perform the intimate oral act again.

Until now.

Trowa craved the Quatre’s taste, savored the feel of the silky smooth skin of his hips beneath his palms, the sounds he made in his passion… The tip of Quatre’s length butted gently against Trowa’s throat, and for a moment, the shadows threatened to overwhelm him, but he fought it, focusing on the taste and texture of his love’s desire. His mouth moved in a deliberately random rhythm over the turgid flesh, keeping the blond off balance and Quatre’s head moved back and forth on the pillow, body covered in sweat, breath coming in harsh, panting gasps. This… this was too much; too intense… he couldn’t… his fingers clenched in the sheets.

“Tr..Trowa … mon dieu!”

Trowa could feel the shudders wracking the Quatre’s body—knew that he was close. His hands cupped the soft spheres of Quatre’s testicles, lightly pressing and Quatre gave a throaty cry and spilled his seed into his lover’s awaiting mouth. Trowa suckled, savoring the taste of Quatre’s release and the knowledge that he had been able to bring him pleasure. His love lay flushed and panting beneath him and Trowa kissed him, following the salt of the tears drying on his cheeks to his swollen lips. Trowa had been wrong. This was no angel, but a beautiful, sensual man—deliciously exquisite and all his. The love Trowa felt at that moment was inexpressible. He lay down next to Quatre, pulling his slight form into his arms. His own neglected arousal throbbed painfully beneath the constriction of his jeans, but he was content to simply hold Quatre. There would be other times when his needs would be attended to.

Quatre reached up to place a soft kiss on Trowa’s lips, his mind still trying to assimilate the intense experience his body had just gone through. Feeling utterly sated and content, he snuggled into his lover’s arms … and felt the hard ridge of Trowa’s erection against his hip.

He wanted to give his love the same mind-bending pleasure that had just been given to him, needed to show Trowa how much he loved him after the older man’s seduction of his senses. Quatre’s hands deftly unbuttoned Trowa’s shirt, slipping inside to find his lover’s erect, rose-brown nipples. Tentatively, he mimicked the movements of Trowa’s hands on his body, teasing and pinching the sensitive flesh, then soothing the tortured nubbins with the soft movements of his mouth. Trowa’s hips thrust involuntarily off the bed, and he moaned at the unexpected caress.

Amazed that he could draw such sweet sounds of abandon from his normally stoic partner, Quatre repeated the heated movements of his hands and mouth. The fact that Trowa was vulnerable to his touch as well filled him with a heady sense of power. Quatre lowered his mouth to Trowa’s flesh, memorizing every contour and plane of the muscular torso. When he unbuttoned Trowa’s jeans and released his erection, pumping in a slow, hard rhythm, Trowa arched completely off the bed, his mouth open in a silent scream. The contrast of Quatre’s soft palm against his painfully sensitized flesh was almost too much for Trowa to bear. He was too violently aroused. It would take only a few more of those firm strokes to send him over the edge.

Quatre watched in fascination as Trowa struggled for control. His head was thrown back and his eyes were tightly shut as his hips snapped upwards to meet Quatre’s strokes. The heated column of flesh in Quatre’s hand pulsed and throbbed, the plum shaped head of Trowa’s erection deeply flushed, and bobbing in time to the movements of his palm. Avidly, Quatre watched the milky drops beading at the tip of his lover’s thick length. Experimentally, he gave a sharp rotation to his wrist, and Trowa suddenly and violently came, spilling his seed all over his stomach and Quatre’s hands. Quatre lifted his fingers, watching the pearlescent liquid. Trowa had tasted him.… He licked his fingers, marveling at the unique taste of Trowa’s passion.

Trowa, still shaken by orgasmic tremors, opened his eyes to the erotic sight of Quatre delicately lapping up his seed. He groaned, unable to tear his eyes away from the blond. At this rate, he would be aroused again in no time. Quatre was utterly absorbed in the sensual exploration and completely oblivious to his lover’s scrutiny. Trowa continued to watch as Quatre paused for a moment, as if undecided, then bending his head, the pink flame of his tongue stole out to trail through the splatterings on Trowa’s stomach.

“Quatre…” Trowa rasped, “stop.”

Quatre looked up, expression slightly dreamy.”Hmm?”

Trowa didn’t know whether to groan or to smile. He pulled the small blond into his arms, placing a kiss on the soft platinum strands on the Arabian’s forehead. Quatre came willingly into the embrace, returning Trowa’s kiss and sharing the taste of his passion with him. Trowa could feel Quatre’s semi-erect length against his own burgeoning arousal as they lay in the intimate embrace, but even as the blond’s slender thigh insinuated itself between his own, Quatre’s head buried deeper into Trowa’s shoulder and his eyelids drooped sleepily. His last words before he drifted off to sleep were barely audible, but Trowa heard them, and his heart blossomed as it always did at the sound of the three beautiful words that had changed his life:

“I love you.”

Outside, he could hear the rain falling softly again. The mournful sound of the wind as it rushed through the trees was nothing more than a love song to Trowa and he let the sound of the rushing water and the whispering wind lull him to sleep. He tightened his arms around Quatre, pulling the blanket over them both. He smiled to himself. When it rained it certainly poured.

End