Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Rain ❯ Chapter 1

Rain

By Misanagi

Rating: NC17

Pairing: 3x4

Warnings: Lemon, mild bondage, yaoi

Summary: Trowa is upset and Quatre is hurt. As the water falls, they get the chance to connect again and create a new memory.

Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing or the characters, I just like to play with them and make them do unspeakable things, just for my writing pleasure.

Archive: http://www.psinergy.com/dryerspace/gundaniumline/misanagi/misanagi.html

Feedback: Very much appreciated.

Thanks a lot to Anne, for the wonderful beta read. *Hugs*

Notes: 1. This fic is a sequel to Helios (also archived at Gundanium Line). To understand some of the plot you need to read that one first or you are going to be lost.

2. This fic is the result of an agreement between Anne Olsen and me. While she wrote a mind blowing lemon called 'To Be Free' (wait for it, it's not posted yet), I wrote this. (I think I got the winning end of the deal. ^_^) Enjoy.

==============

Trowa walked behind Duo and Quatre, keeping his distance and petting his new kitten. They had just arrived at Preventers' HQ after a complicated mission and since the place was practically deserted, Quatre and Duo were talking loudly.

At the moment, Trowa preferred to watch the show from a safe distance rather than to get involved in what was obviously, a less than friendly discussion. Normally, he would have left the two of them alone to talk, but Trowa wasn't very happy with Quatre either, and he was quite enjoying watching his lover get an earful from Duo.

"Would you just spill it out so I can know how badly I have to kick your ass?" asked Duo, stopping in the middle of the hallway, and blocking Quatre's way.

"Like you could," answered Quatre smugly, "but you are welcome to try."

Duo glared at Quatre and if the blond had been anything less than a Gundam Pilot, he would have probably crumbled in fear. "Quatre, you know that Une's going to want a complete report, so you won't be able to keep the story to yourself."

"I know that, Duo," said Quatre, his voice revealing that he was tired of discussing that specific topic. "You'll find out everything, later. Now, can we please go to the tech lab so we can cut this off?" He held his cuffed hands out in front of him.

"Well, Quatre, you are out of luck," commented Duo casually as he leaned against the wall, crossing his arms in front of him. "You see, it's still too early and I'm afraid that the tech lab is closed."

Quatre didn't look happy with that answer. "It's not like you can't manage to get inside."

"Of course I can," replied Duo in a bored tone, "but I don't want to. Last time I did something like that, Une chewed my ass and I really don't feel like doing it again now."

"Fine," said Quatre, blowing some locks out of his face. "I can do it myself."

"Well, that's going to be rather difficult since you seem to have lost your lockpicks and you can't borrow mine."

"Duo," said Quatre, sounding edgy. "What are you planning?"

"Me? Nothing at all. I just think that you need some time to think about what you did before I can help you with your little mishap."

Quatre blinked. "What?"

Duo moved from the wall and took the kitten out of Trowa's arms. "I'll take care of her," he said to Trowa and then turned around to look at Quatre. "Why don't you take a shower? We can talk later. I hate to say it, man, but you stink."

"Well I can't bloody do it if I have my hands cuffed, can I?"

Trowa suppressed a snicker. Quatre must have been getting pretty upset if he was swearing. Duo, however, seemed unimpressed by it and just turned his back on Quatre and started walking. "I'm sure Trowa will be happy to help."

"Duo Maxwell, get back here," yelled Quatre. "How I'm I supposed to take my clothes off?"

"Like I said, Trowa can help," said Duo, stopping in front of a door. He turned around and smiled wickedly at Quatre. "Besides, I'm sure you can afford a new shirt." That said, he walked into the room, closing the door behind him.

Quatre was left in the middle of the hallway blinking at the closed door. Trowa let a chuckle escape at the vision of his lover, frustrated and clueless.

The blond turned around and glared at Trowa. "Do you find this funny?"

"A bit," Trowa admitted.

"You know you could have helped me," grumbled Quatre, sounding annoyed.

"Come on," said Trowa walking towards his lover and holding his hand. "A shower is not a bad idea." Quatre looked like he wanted to protest but instead, he sighed and let Trowa guide him to the showers.

The shower room, like the rest of the building, was deserted. People normally showed up at seven o'clock but it was only five fifteen so only a few of the night shift personnel were around. Trowa closed the door behind him and took a look at the room. It had ten shower heads lined up against a wall. There were some tile covered dividers to allow some privacy but they weren't very tall and there wasn't any type of door. Attached to the wall were a couple of dispensers, which contained soap and shampoo, and in front of the showers rested some benches and lockers.

Quatre untangled his hand from Trowa's and sat on one of the benches. He pressed his back against a wall and glared at Trowa.

"Aren't you going to get undressed?" asked Trowa, not moving from his spot near the door. "Do you need some help?"

"I can manage on my own," replied Quatre, dryly.

Trowa shrugged and watched Quatre slowly undress. Quatre's boots came off first, and he let them drop on the floor without a second glance. He then took off his socks and left them on the bench. Trowa noticed how his lover hesitated a moment before he stood and removed his belt. After dropping it on the bench, he unzipped his pants and then raised his head and looked at Trowa again. "Do you really need to be here?"

Trowa looked at the blond suspiciously. "Why? Is there something you don't want me to see?"

Quatre sighed but he didn't answer. That was all the indication Trowa needed to know that he was right. "What else are you keeping from me, Quatre?"

"Nothing," answered the blond, but before he could elaborate, Trowa interrupted him.

"You've been very secretive about this mission. You're not like that unless you are hiding something and when you are hiding something it means... it means you were in danger." Trowa could feel the anger rising again. He hated feeling like this but Quatre had a unique way of making him angry. He just had to put himself in danger needlessly and Trowa found himself channeling all his worry in anger towards his lover.

"I can take care of myself, thank you very much." Quatre didn't look too happy either. His fingers were still clutching the fabric of his pants and he was looking at Trowa with fury in his eyes.

"Like you did on this mission?" asked Trowa. He regretted his words the moment he had finished speaking.

"What I did was necessary for the mission. I don't think I need to prove myself to you right now, Trowa, but feel free to sign for the evaluation committee. Then you'll be able to judge me at will."

Trowa sighed. He knew that the conversation was going nowhere and that they were both upset enough to say things that they didn't mean. "We can continue this later," he said after a while, "but now, just take a shower so we can get you checked by a doctor and home for some proper rest."

Quatre kept glaring at his lover for a moment but finally, he nodded at Trowa. "You need to cut my shirt," he said in a calm voice.

After searching for the spare knife he always carried in his boot, Trowa approached Quatre. He reached for Quatre's shirt and started cutting the buttons one by one, until the shirt hung open revealing Quatre's chest. Trowa pressed his knife against the collar of Quatre's shirt and with a swift movement, he cut the material. He repeated the operation with the other side and then simply used his hands to rip the rest of the shirt. No matter how mad Trowa was at his lover, he couldn't help but snicker. He had to do that again, when he and Quatre were in a better mood. He dropped the remains of the navy shirt on the floor and focused on Quatre again. "Need help with anything else?"

The blond smiled. "Could you please find me a towel?"

The clean towels were kept on the back of the room, Trowa nodded and went there. He took one towel from the shelf and went back to where he had left Quatre. To his surprise, Quatre was already in the shower, naked and with his back turned to Trowa. The water had just begun to wet his hair and while some parts remained dry, others were dripping slowly on his back. Trowa had always admired Quatre's back. His shoulders were broad but not excessively and his spine was straight, marking a neat line in the middle. The muscles were strong and they showed with the slightest movement. The lines of his torso were defined and ended in a slim waist. Trowa watched as the water traveled slowly down Quatre's back. The movement of the water made the skin look smother and Trowa could just picture his hands flowing with the water, caressing Quatre's back. His gaze traveled lower, to Quatre's ass and strong legs, to end in the pool of slightly pink water forming around Quatre's feet.

Blood, Quatre was bleeding.

Trowa moved his eyes away from the floor, trying to focus on anything but the fact that his lover was bleeding. It wouldn't do any good to start fighting with Quatre again. There would be time to do that later.

Oblivious to the vision he was giving his lover, Quatre took a bar of soap in his hands and started to awkwardly clean himself. The cuffs didn't let him move freely and Trowa could hear him wince every time he tried to move his hands too much.

Before Trowa realized what he was doing, he had already taken off his clothes and was walking to the showers. He stood behind Quatre and gently took the soap out of the blond's hands. Quatre didn't even turn his head, instead, he moved towards the wall to make space for Trowa. Slowly, Trowa started to clean Quatre's back. His fingers glided swiftly down the wet skin, softly touching every inch, the warm water of the shower falling irregularly on his hands, head and chest. Soon, the soap fell to the floor but Trowa's hands kept massaging Quatre's back; first, only with the tips of his fingers barely touching the skin and then with his whole hands caressing every muscle.

Suddenly, Quatre turned around, his face dripping and his eyes focused on Trowa's. "Stop. Now is not the time."

Quatre was right. Trowa had let himself get carried away but they still needed to solve their problems. "Let me help you with your hands," he said, letting Quatre know that he agreed with him.

The blond hesitated for a moment but eventually raised his hands, leaving them in front of Trowa's chest, and waiting for him to hold them. He didn't have to wait long. Trowa took a moment to retrieve the soap from the floor and then took hold of Quatre's right wrist. Slowly, he moved the cuffs back and winced when he saw the damaged skin beneath it. The skin was red and the constant friction with the metal had managed to tear it in some parts. Trowa couldn't help but wonder about all the things Quatre must have done to end up with his wrists like that. He raised his face and met Quatre's. The blue eyes were hiding some of the discomfort the sting of the water was causing on the open wounds.

It was obvious the fact that Quatre was already in pain so Trowa decided that it was not the best time to confront him again about what exactly had happened on that mission. Instead, he concentrated on washing the dirt off Quatre's wrist. After falling into a garbage container, Quatre's hands were covered in filth. Slowly, the warm water washed away the dirt, letting Trowa see again the beautiful hands of his lover. The red on Quatre's wrists contrasted with the white hands. Right now, under the misty fog created by the hot shower, Trowa could visualize those hands free of their restrains, moving quickly over the strings of a violin or the keys of a piano; long fingers, brushing away Trowa's bangs; strong callused hands holding a gun. Dried blood mixing with the clear water as the bound hands were cleansed.

The man in front of him wasn't fragile, Trowa knew that. He also knew what Quatre had done during the war and he knew very well his capabilities as a soldier. Still, that didn't stop Trowa from feeling the urge to protect him, to hold him close and make sure that he stayed safe.

Trowa's hands pressed on Quatre's back and pulled him close, leaving the cuffed wrists pressed between their chests. Before Quatre could protest, Trowa pressed his lips on top of Quatre's. Trowa parted his lips slightly and he could feel Quatre doing the same. Some drops of water managed to fall between their lips, mixing with the taste of their mouths. Quatre parted his lips a little more, allowing some of the water to slip inside. Trowa used the moment to slowly push his tongue inside Quatre's mouth.

Quatre didn't respond. He stayed still and allowed Trowa to gradually explore his mouth. The tip of Quatre's tongue rested on top of his lower teeth, calmly waiting for Trowa to play with it. Trowa allowed his tongue to do all the work and finally retreated from Quatre's mouth, closing his lips slowly and brushing them one last time against Quatre's half open mouth.

What Trowa wasn't counting on, was Quatre untangling his arms and putting them around his neck. He pulled Trowa back to him, and this time, he was the one in control. His kiss wasn't tender and slow like Trowa's had been, but powerful and demanding. Quatre didn't wait for Trowa to open his mouth; he simply grabbed Trowa's lower lip between his teeth and slowly pulled at it. Trowa let a moan escape as the sensations took all of his focus and his eyes drifted shut. Quatre played with Trowa's lip for a moment before he relinquished it and pushed his tongue inside Trowa's mouth. His tongue moved quickly, tasting furiously every inch of Trowa's; massaging the tongue and tickling the roof of the mouth. It was a ceremony of possession and Trowa didn't mind being claimed.

The kiss ended as suddenly as it had begun. Quatre pulled away from Trowa but his hands remained around Trowa's neck, telling him that it wasn't over. Trowa's eyes opened to be confronted by a vision of Quatre. The water was still falling steadily onto Quatre's face, random drops shining in the light and making his hair seem like it was glowing. Aquamarine eyes looked back at Trowa, desire and love reflecting in the pupils.

Trowa's mouth moved to Quatre's neck. He started by delivering some soft kisses but soon began to lick the water flowing down Quatre's skin. Meanwhile, his hands had traveled lower. He stopped at the lower back for a moment, and then let a single finger slide slowly down the middle of Quatre's ass, past the opening and below. After he heard Quatre groan, he let his finger move up, the water from the shower letting it slide smoothly.

Kneeling on the wet floor, Trowa's mouth moved lower and Quatre's hands grabbed Trowa's head. He kissed Quatre's nipples and abs, and stopped at the navel to lick the small puddle of water that had formed inside. He took a moment to kiss the infamous Dorothy scar and then continued down Quatre's hips and thighs. Just as Trowa was about to head back up, he noticed Quatre's knees out of the corner of his eye. Trowa stopped abruptly, letting his hands fall to his side, his eyes fixed on the dark purple bruises and torn flesh of Quatre's knees.

A sigh was heard. The blond let his hands fall from Trowa's head and spoke in an apologetic tone. "It's not that bad. It barely hurts now."

Trowa remained kneeling on the floor, watching the clear water wash the last blood remains from Quatre's flesh. That explained the bleeding. "What happened?" he asked, trying to control the coldness in his voice.

Another sigh. It was obvious that Quatre didn't want to discuss the mission at that precise moment but he answered none the less. "I fell when I was trying to climb a wall."

"More than once," stated Trowa.

"Yes," Quatre admitted, "but it had to be done if I wanted to escape."

Trowa stood up in a swift movement. He gave Quatre an icy look and silently challenged him to say another word. "Quatre, I'm getting tired of hearing what had to be done or what was necessary. You really need to get your priorities in check. I know that you do what you feel is best but sometime you can be quite selfish about it."

"Selfish?" asked Quatre, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, Quatre, selfish. You have this twisted idea that taking care of yourself isn't a priority and you put thousand of things before that but do you ever stop to think that maybe your disregard for your personal safety is not a selfless act?"

"I don't know what you mean," answered Quatre, regarding Trowa with a confused look.

"What's the most important thing to you? The thing you cherish above all?"

Quatre looked at Trowa as if he had just asked if the sun rose every day. "You, of course," he finally answered.

"Now think, Quatre. Think for a moment how it feels to see me hurt. Picture in your mind how you would feel if I wasn't around." Trowa stopped for a moment and pushed back his wet locks. "Quatre, you don't have to take care for you, you have to do it for me. You are mine now, just as much as I'm yours, and you don't have the right to endanger what is mine, what I cherish above all... you."

Trowa felt drained, like he had finally taken all he carried inside and let it free, and damn the consequences. It was a strange feeling, letting go of something he had held onto for so long. He had finally said something, and it was no longer a burden. Trowa couldn't tell if it was a single tear falling down Quatre's cheek or if it was just one more drop from the shower but he could see that the defiance had left his eyes and had been replaced by something else. Sorrow? Regret? Trowa couldn't tell.

Neither willing to move, they stood beneath the shower for a moment, hearing only the steady sound of the water hitting the floor. It was an awkward silence, one that wasn't normal between them.

Slowly, Quatre raised his hands above his head and over the showerhead, letting the cuffs hold him in place. He fixed his eyes on Trowa and spoke sincerely. "You are right, Trowa. I'm yours." The water could no longer touch Quatre and Trowa could only see him though the waterfall, as a blurred figured calling to him. "Yours forever." It wasn't an invitation, it was an offering. A gesture of understanding and comprehension, a way to show Trowa that Quatre knew how to surrender and accept his mistakes.

One of Trowa's hands went trough the water and stopped just above Quatre's face. Trowa let his hand caress his lover's face; the wet cheek, the small nose, the long eyelashes, the pouting lips and the angry purple bruise on Quatre's cheek. The blond stayed still and Trowa could see, even through the water, that Quatre's eyes hadn't left his.

Letting the water fall on his back, Trowa approached Quatre. The blond looked amazing. Naked and pressed again the wall, his hands cuffed above his head and his face held high. His golden hair was dripping and drops of waters were shining all over his body. His muscles were defined and strong. The long legs were marked by the wound on his knees but Trowa ignored them, focusing on the picture of perfection that had been offered to him, that was already his.

Trowa's hands moved lower but his eyes stayed fixed on Quatre's. He let the tip of his fingers move slowly around Quatre's chest, making irregular patterns so that the blond would never know what was going to happen next. Quatre's eyes unfocused when Trowa let his hand travel further down and brush momentarily against Quatre's erection. As soon as Trowa's fingers retreated, Quatre glared at him but stayed still, being true to the unspoken promise to let Trowa be in control. Trowa snickered and that only earned him another glare from the blond.

Without breaking eye contact, Trowa once again got on his knees. He grasped Quatre's erection firmly in one hand and then swallowed him whole in one simple movement. Quatre moaned in pleasure but managed to keep his eyes opened and trained on Trowa's.

It was a challenge and Trowa wasn't about to withdraw or be defeated. Using his free hand, and without stopping the actions of his mouth, Trowa started teasing Quatre's opening. By the look of shock and the groan that followed, Quatre hadn't been expecting that. Trowa took the opportunity to pull back from Quatre's erection, leaving only his lips and tongue lingering at the tip, teasing Quatre with fickle and almost inexistent touches.

After he heard another groan, Trowa penetrated Quatre with one finger as he swallowed him again. That was the breaking point. Quatre closed his eyes and his mouth opened to let out a soundless scream. Quatre's breathing was fast and getting faster as Trowa used his tongue and finger to make him go into sensual overload.

With every moan of Quatre's and by the sensation of having his lover's body surrendering to him, Trowa could feel himself losing control. He didn't need to touch himself to get closer and closer to climax. It was a strange feeling, getting excited by the knowledge of having Quatre under his sexual control; of approaching the edge with every sign of pleasure he heard from him. The delicious and frustrated sounds Quatre made; the slight shivers that went through his entire body when Trowa's finger hit that spot; the lust filled eyes; the hands trapped above Quatre's head; the looks he gave him. The feeling of his hardness growing inside Trowa's mouth; the soft skin of his butt brushing Trowa's hand; the hot testicles Trowa was tormenting with tender touches; the sound of the handcuffs clashing against the showerhead when Quatre couldn't resist the urge to touch Trowa too. That last cry that came when Quatre finally exploded inside his mouth, sent Trowa over the edge as he swallowed Quatre's essence and closed his eyes, finally defeated.

Trowa was lost for a moment. His mind wouldn't process any thoughts and his body seemed unable to respond. A few drops of warm water hit his face and he reluctantly opened his eyes. He had managed, somehow, to fall and he was now lying on the tiled floor, right under the water. He brushed some of the liquid away from his eyes and took a couple of deep breaths before he gathered the strength to get into a sitting position. The water was in front of him again, and behind it, he could see Quatre, still standing with his hands above his head. His face was hidden by the wet locks falling in front of it, and his whole body was supported by the wall and the showerhead. Quatre was obviously too exhausted to do it himself.

That was all it took for Trowa to get up from the floor and free Quatre's hands from the showerhead. He was ready to catch Quatre's body when it fell forward and after making sure that his lover was secured in his arms, Trowa lowered them to the floor.

After a few moments below the water, Quatre opened his eyes. They were unfocused, as if he was still searching for the way back. Trowa let his fingers lazily brush drop after drop of water until Quatre saw him and his lips curved into a smile.

They remained there, holding each other and waiting, feeling the warm drops fall on their skin. Trowa couldn't tell how much time passed before they finally got up and silently cleaned themselves. The rest of the shower was only a number of fragments in Trowa's mind. A kiss, the smell of the shampoo Trowa used to wash Quatre's hair, whispered words and the feeling of Quatre close, always close.

When the shower was turned off, Trowa realized how much it sounded like rain. He smiled at Quatre as an unknown verse repeated in his mind. 'Rain, your love is coming down like rain'. [1]

- The end-

Notes:

[1] Rain by Madonna from her album Erotica.