Notes: Thank you to Tina for the beta! I'm working 47-50 hour weeks right now, so getting to longer things is taking me some time. But I do have this offering of smut!
Warnings: PWP, Heavy Religious References
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing
Duo raised the glass of vodka to his lips. It burned his mouth, tasted like Trowa's lips and tongue, and he shuddered, leaning back in the chair. Duo's skin was parched for the feeling of work-worn hands, the husky whisper of Russian against his ear. He brought the blunt to his lips and inhaled, watching the door.
12 hours, 19 minutes, 22 seconds since check-in. 23 seconds. 24. And Trowa was silent. Gone. He had disappeared in the depths of space, wearing someone else's name and face. They hadn't spoken in a month. Duo felt his absence like the weight of Gundanium. He filled Trowa's absence with vodka and pot and said his rosary at night, praying that Trowa wouldn't be another nail in his coffin. Another bloody hand print etched on his heart.
Hair hanging loose down his back, Duo stood. He seeped through the apartment like a ghost, skin white in the darkness. Duo opened the door to their bedroom like the doors of the ambry, lying across the bed with reverence. He wanted to receive Trowa's body like communion. Duo set his glass on the bedside table, pressing his face to Trowa's pillow to inhale the lingering scent. With the hope of the faithful he slept, like the dead, waiting for the resurrection Trowa's return would bring.
Trowa entered the bedroom with the darkness of morning at his back, head bent in supplication. His lover was spread over the bed like a statue, hair covering him like a shroud. With trembling hands Trowa sat, flames writhing behind his eyelids. He touched Duo's hair like a crucifix, resting his cheek against it. Duo smelled of frankincense and myrrh, sandalwood staining his skin like wine. The body on the bed rose up, royal-colored eyes fixing emerald with the conviction of the converted.
"No more," Duo's first commandment echoed through the room. Trowa's hand cupped his jaw, thumb stroking the soft skin of his cheekbone.
"Duo," Trowa breathed his name like a benediction. A blessing over the heat of Duo's anger, claiming and possessing him. This anger was his, was for him, and it felt like paper on Trowa's tongue.
"Please," Duo's voice cracked like a stone, like a seal, and Trowa was on him, pressing their lips together, hands cradling Duo's head like a Eucharist. Duo was marble in his arms, cold and hard. And then Trowa ran his tongue over Duo's lower lip, sucking it in to his mouth, and Duo came alive.
Trowa was on his back against the bed, Duo's weight on his hips. His lover ran his hands up his arms, tangling their fingers together as they kissed. Duo tasted like an oasis, cooling the hot desert of Trowa's mouth. There were thin sinner's fingers sliding up Trowa's shirt, pulling it off and smoothing down the down the scarred flesh of his skin.
Duo shuddered with the knowledge of life, of Trowa's life, and what the weight of his loss would feel like if Duo cupped his hands to hold it. He pressed his forehead to Trowa's chest, then mouthed the litany of his wounds. Trowa arched, giving his breath to pleasure and the feeling of Duo's tongue dipping in to the edge of his pants. He was on fire, burning on the pyre of Duo's passion as deft hands slid up his thighs, slick fingers teasing at his entrance. Trowa was prepared quickly, an offering on Duo's alter of need, giving reassurance like a balm, and Duo slid in to him like a spear in to flesh.
And then there was nothing but the sound of their bodies moving together, Duo's moans pressing against the skin of Trowa's neck, nipping the skin and teasing teeth against the column of his throat. Trowa arched in to the touch, hands fevered on Duo's skin. He came like Revelations, shaking and shouting and spilling between the sweat slick stomachs. Duo gasped his name, head tossing back, eyes blank as he rode out his passion.
Duo panted, head resting on Trowa's chest. He murmured confession against his skin, counting Trowa's ribs like beads. One for lack of faith. One for despair. One for the chill in his bones when Trowa didn't call. Trowa took his hand, pressing his lips to his fingertips like flame to a candle.
"I'll stop," Trowa promised, kissing the middle of Duo's palm. Duo's smile washed over him like absolution. His lover leaned in, kissing him and running a hand through his hair.
"Thank you," Duo shifted on to his side, pressing against Trowa and tracing the curve of his spine like the back of a prayerbook. Trowa's lips pressed to the wedding ring on Duo's finger, then his cheek, their bodies lax and lazy in the dawn light.