From the Eyes of a Pacifist
Relena sometimes felt she was a terrible pacifist.
He had told her he would be training with Trowa late that afternoon. It wasn't often they saw each other. Trowa, for the most part, lived and worked in the colonies bar the occasional trip when needed whereas Heero was solely based in Brussels with her. Where she went, he went. And so, as each occasion went, they'd grabbed a coffee, caught up, and here they were providing each other with the challenge their every day often lacked.
She didn't know what made her come today. Usually, she would leave them to their devices, knowing Heero would be around her office later in the evening to take her home, giving her some time to catch up on what always needed catching up on.
But then, the writhing form of curiosity had settled into her mind, to the point where her fingers would hover above her keyboard and her eyes were pointlessly scanning the same sentence over and over again. And so, she had grabbed her bag, made her way across the street to the Preventers HQ and down the three flights of stairs to the training centre.
It was well fitted, with a large hall for group exercises and several smaller rooms for private use and specialised equipment. She had only been down here twice, both times to accompany Heero as he collected his belongings from his locker, but she found them easily enough. They were the only ones down here this late after hours.
Peeking a head through the window on the door she expected to find two men engaged in intense had to hand combat. A shot of something electrifying went through her heart and burrowed in her core when she found so much more.
Two men, tall, dark and dangerous prowled around each other on the matted floor. There was a sheen of sweat adorning both bare torsos, toned muscles moving under smooth skin, coiled and ready to spring. Heat pooled in her abdomen and her head felt light. This cannot be real...
It was by far not her first time seeing Heero Yuy bare on top, or bare anywhere else for that matter. It was always a welcome sight, but it not that alone that was causing her stomach to flutter wildly.
She watched them, those stormy blue eyes she had learned to love so and the stark bright green of the other man's connected displaying their hardness, their strength and merciless intent. They would not notice her, she knew. They were all the other saw at that moment.
Her heart beat hard in her chest.
And then they launched, as if weightless, arms and legs moving so gracefully in what she could only call a dance, with both partners leading and none submitting not even for a second. Trowa had Heero on the ground, his feet taken from under him, before fighting his own balance as Heero's hands braced on the ground and his legs kicked upwards, his green-eyed partner narrowly dodging a powerful blow to the head.
Relena didn't try to keep up. She just let herself take it in, trying to even her breathing as something throbbed darkly and deliciously between her thighs.
She saw mist forming on the window from her breath, and she found herself holding it altogether, for fear of disrupting her view. Heero had both of his hands behind him as Trowa attempted to pin him down, a task almost successful until Heero's hands clamped around the wrist holding him and pushed forward, taking the other man over his head and onto the floor before him, not missing a second before swinging a powerful leg over to smack the mat where his opponent had rolled away.
These men, men who she knew were friends, were going for each other with lethal intent. Neither pulled their punches. If Heero's kick had landed, Trowa would have had several cracked ribs. If Trowa's lock had pressed even a millimeter further, Heero's arm would have broken. It should have petrified her.
Yet here she was, liquid fire coursing through her, chewing her lip in a desperate attempt to control the whimpers that made their way to her throat, watching the man she loved and a close friend and ally try to tear each other apart.
She leaned against the wall, away from the view of the window, closing her eyes and letting the images forever burned into her mind dance behind her lids. She needed to relieve this pressure. It was so intense, when her thighs squeezed together in the attempt she gasped from the sinful shock of pleasure that washed over her. She tried it again, and again before it was no longer enough.
She breathed heavily as her hand slid downward, slipping under the waistband of her dress trousers, breath hitching as the pad of her middle finger slid over an over-sensitised bundle of nerves, slick with her desire.
And that's when the door swung open. She immediately pulled away her hand and placed it behind her back, glistening evidence hidden from the gazes of the two men who had just vacated.
Heero was the first to notice her, giving her a puzzled look as he closed the cap on his water bottle.
"I thought you'd be working. Did I make you wait too long?"
Relena felt an instant pang of guilt. This was Heero to a tee, always looking out for her while she was the one spying on his personal time. Like a hormone-controlled teenager, she chided, more than a little annoyed with herself, but her lust still humming inside her.
"No...not at all. I...just finished." Or not, as the case may be, all too aware of her still heated state.
Trowa had just pulled his shirt on, before coming over to join them. Oh, hell.
"Good evening, Relena. Sorry to keep him from you. Are you well?"
An odd question to ask, Relena thought. Why would he assume she wasn't well?
"I'm fine, Trowa. Why do you ask?"
Heero replied for him, lowering his shirt and bottle to the floor, his large hand coming up to push under her bangs and cover her forehead. The touch was electrifying.
"You're very warm, and your face is flushed. Have you been drinking properly?"
Another stab of guilt, and the more she tried to keep it off of her face the more she was convinced it was showing. They knew something was wrong, to be sure, but it would be her complete inability to hide anything from her bodyguard turned lover that would reveal the cause. She didn't think she could handle the embarrassment.
She gulped. "Yes. That must be it. I'm feeling fine, please don't worry on my account."
Heero gave her a small smile before removing his hand, bending over to pick up his water bottle from the floor before her. And this is where he orders me to drink before leaving this building. The man was sometimes overprotective to a fault. It made her smile.
As he picked up the bottle she saw his bare back stiffen suddenly, so fast she had barely seen it, before coming straight again, his eyes locking on to hers in a gaze she knew well. Those eyes told her that he knew something. Impossible! How?
He turned to Trowa, who was taking a long drink of his own with some visible stiffness in the hand holding his bottle. "Trowa, I'll see you in a month." The other man simply smiled and held up his hand in farewell, disappearing into the men's locker rooms.
He was barely through the door when Heero rested his arm above her head and leaned his face towards hers, effectively caging her in. Those eyes were back, those eyes that promised sin. Relena felt so very vulnerable, so much like a prey. Her knees nearly buckled.
She felt his breath on her, heating her already sensitised skin, devouring her with his eyes.
And then her knees did buckle, as a rough hand cupped her through the light material of her suit pants, palm pressing firmly against aching flesh. She whimpered in a breathless cry, eyes slamming shut.
The hand above her head smoothed her hair and down her neck, as it lifted her chin up to align his eyes with hers yet again. Her breathing was coming out in shattered gasps now, a long digit settling on her cotton-covered slit and rubbing gently, tightening a coil inside her that she felt might unspring at any second. It would take so little.
"H...how did you..." How did he know?
And then he smirked, that heart-breaking, dangerous smirk that promised things only reserved for her.
And he brought up the other hand from its place between her thighs, fingers parting to reveal a glistening trail that told it all. She had worked herself up so much, she had soaked right through her suit. She could have died from embarrassment if it wasn't so terribly erotic.
His voice rumbled low and deep in her ear. "So you like to watch me fight?"
That, however, was definitely a reason to be embarrassed.
"I...it's not..." She couldn't think of any legitimate excuse. And from the way he was looking at her, smugness firmly settled on his handsome face, he knew it too.
As his knee wedged between her thighs, his hands roaming underneath her blouse and lips and teeth suckling at her neck she only had one last coherent thought.
I really am a terrible pacifist.