bSpring Green/b
The dew had long since soaked through Quatre's clothes and hair. The chill spring morning seeped into his bones, but the dappled sunlight brought warmth. Trowa's kisses also dappled his skin, and their warmth eclipsed that of the sun, making it seem a feeble thing indeed. Trowa's lips pressed against his breastbone, lower to his solar plexus, lower again to his belly, and Trowa's breath tickled his navel.
When Trowa's hand settled upon his belt buckle, Quatre opened his eyes to the pale green above, looked down into the darker green that silently questioned.
"Please," Quatre said, and Trowa smiled.