A/N: For Ro. Wishing you a very happy birthday and thanking you for all of the years of friendship and support. And beta reading. And ridiculous email chains. And everything.
A/N2: I couldn't very well have you edit your own birthday fic. So many, many thanks to Kangofu-CB for beta reading this for me.
A/N3: A continuation of Cypress, as requested. This picks up a few months after the vacation in Key West. I would strongly recommend reading that fic first.
Warnings: angst, language, sex.
Pairings: 6x3
Cypress
Chapter Three
"Welcome to Winning Life's publishing office, how can I help you?"
The receptionist was young, with bright orange hair wrapped around her head in an elaborate braid, and wore what looked almost exactly like the uniform Zechs had been forced to wear in primary school.
After a five hour flight and the tension-headache inducing struggle of navigating the airport taxi queue, Zechs felt weary, achy, and in desperate need of a shower.
"I'm here to see Trowa Barton."
"Oh. Oh, hm…" she clicked away at her computer. "I don't have any appointments down for Mr. Barton this afternoon. Are you a walk-in or did he schedule an interview for -"
"He's expecting me," Zechs assured the woman. "I'm Zechs Merquise."
"Oh. Oh. I see."
The look she gave him was blatantly assessing. She even craned her neck a little so she could sweep her gaze up and down his entire body.
"I see," she said again, her lips curved into a very small smile. "He did say he was expecting you. Let me call him."
Zechs wondered just what Trowa had said to make the receptionist continue to grin as she dialed her phone.
"Trowa? Yes, he's here. What do you mean who? He - he is here."
She smirked as she put the phone back in the cradle.
"He'll be right out," she assured Zechs.
And sure enough - almost as soon as she finished saying the words, the large frosted glass doors emblazoned with WL's logo opened forcefully.
It had been four months since Key West. Four months since they had last seen either other without the aid of FaceTime. Four months since Zechs had touched Trowa. Four months since he had traced the curve of his lips or buried his nose in the fine, unruly strands of his hair.
He was… very different than Key West Trowa.
Gone was the straw fedora, sunglasses, deeply cut v-neck t-shirts and fitted shorts.
Standing in front of Zechs now was a man both achingly familiar and intriguingly new.
He was wearing a gray button up shirt and a darker gray tie, neatly tucked into a green cardigan and his tan corduroy trousers were fitted well enough to remind Zechs of the jeans he had stripped off of Trowa down in Key West. Trowa's hair was gelled and combed off of his face and he was wearing glasses.
Zechs had seen the hairstyle before, during some of their FaceTime conversations over the last few months, but he had never seen the glasses.
"Hi."
The soft smirk on Trowa's face was a little guarded, the expression in his eyes just unsure enough that it tugged at Zechs.
"Hi," he responded, and something in his face or his voice made Trowa relax a fraction, made his smirk tilt up and his eyes turn warm.
The receptionist cleared her throat meaningfully.
Trowa started.
"Here, let me -" he started to reach for Zechs's bags.
"I've got it," Zechs assured him, latching onto the handle of his rolling suitcase and adjusting his laptop case back over his shoulder.
Trowa's lips twitched, but he gamely opened the door and gestured for Zechs to proceed him into WL Publishing.
It was, Zechs couldn't help but think, a nightmare that only a millennial would dream up.
The office was open-concept, in that Zechs couldn't see a single wall or cubicle except for a transparent glass divider that separated what he assumed was the conference room from the rest of the space.
The desks, all ten or so of them, seemed to be arranged haphazardly, and while they were all a matching glossy white, they were of varying sizes and styles, and decorated in a riot of color.
The walls had been painted a comfortingly neutral grayish-blue, and they were decorated with black and white photographs of Chicago - Zechs wondered if someone had simply forgotten to turn the walls into the same eyesore as the rest of the office.
Trowa led him past an arrangement of white armchairs and couches situated around a few low white tables, to one of the desks.
There were several plants crowded on it, vines dangling over the computer monitor and the binders and precariously stacked books that were all crammed together on shelves and desk.
Zechs never would have picked it out as Trowa's. Then again, he never would have thought Trowa worked in a place that looked like this.
Something of his bemusement must have been obvious.
"Not quite what you pictured?" Trowa murmured, voice low enough that the men and women at the nearby desks, who were failing miserably at looking busy, couldn't hear him.
Zechs shrugged.
"I can't say that I spent much time picturing you at work."
Trowa smirked and gestured for Zechs to put down his bags.
"Would you like a tour?"
Zechs arched one eyebrow and looked around. He wondered what the tour could possibly include that wasn't already on display.
There didn't even appear to be a break room - a drink trolley was parked beside the sitting area with carafes of coffee, water and juice, sodas, snacks and condiments arrayed on the lower shelves.
"I think I've seen the highlights," Zechs said.
Trowa shrugged, still smirking.
"I didn't realize you would get here so quickly - traffic is usually worse. I wasn't expecting you for another hour."
Zechs shrugged. He had been surprised as well, but the cab ride from O'Hare to downtown Chicago had taken less than twenty minutes.
The Loop, his Lyft driver had corrected him when Zechs gave the address to her.
"We've got a meeting in fifteen minutes, our Team Alignment Meeting. I thought you wouldn't get here until it was over. I -"
"I'm sure I can keep myself occupied," Zechs assured him.
Trowa nodded, and for a moment, they stared at each other in silence. It was almost unbearably awkward.
Zechs hadn't imagined some sort of Hollywood reunion - Trowa running at him and Zechs sweeping him into some grand, romantic kiss that left them both breathless and grinning at each other like fools in front of everyone around them - but he hadn't thought it would be quite like this, either.
They hadn't even touched, except for that aborted attempt of Trowa's to take the bags, just one second of Trowa's fingers brushing against his own.
He had harbored some half-formed idea of hauling Trowa off to his office break room, hanging onto that pleasant fantasy while his Lyft driver tore through shockingly empty streets, and Zechs held onto the door handle for dear life.
That, of course, was now an impossibility. Zechs glared at the beverage trolley again.
But then he had an idea.
"Is there a bathroom?"
Trowa nodded, and then his lips curved upwards into that mocking smirk that Zechs had become very familiar with.
"Don't," he warned Trowa, before the younger man was able to deliver some quip about Zechs' age and his bladder, "I would just like somewhere a little more private than this to properly say hello to you."
That had Trowa simultaneously blushing and smirking.
And heading towards the perimeter of the office, stride brisk and purposeful.
Zechs was smirking himself as he fell into step behind the other man.
He had been half-afraid that the bathroom would not, in fact, be private- perhaps another millennial nightmare that further explored the boundaries of 'open concept' - but Trowa led him into a gender neutral bathroom and locked the door behind them.
Zechs arched an eyebrow, realizing that the bathroom was a single stall unit, that the entire office had no doubt seen Trowa escort Zechs into it.
It wasn't the same as kissing Trowa in front of them, but it wasn't terribly far off.
Trowa didn't seem to have any hang-ups, however. He backed Zechs against the locked door, head tilted up and lips already parted.
Zechs took the invitation without hesitation, reaching out to haul Trowa against him, hands on his ass, and met Trowa's lips with his own in a kiss that was far more desperate than Zechs was comfortable admitting to.
He had longed for this, all of these months, had dreamed of Trowa, of the feel of his lithe body, the scrape of his teeth against Zechs's tongue, his skin, his cock, the heat of his mouth, the firm press of his lips, the playful, taunting dance of his tongue.
The way he practically melted against Zechs when he pulled at Trowa's hair, tilting his head back even further so that he could kiss and bite his way down Trowa's throat.
Trowa's fingers were digging into his hips, silently begging.
Zechs tugged at Trowa's tie, loosening it so that he could work the top two buttons of Trowa's shirt loose.
"Zechs," Trowa groaned.
"What do you want?" Zechs growled and Trowa shivered and thrust against him, hips rocking forward and fingers flexing.
"You," Trowa breathed, his eyes hooded and his lips already swollen, after just that one savage kiss.
Zechs loosened his grip on Trowa's hair and ran one hand down the side of his face.
"You have me," he pointed out.
"Finally," Trowa muttered, petulant and regretful.
"Yes. Finally," Zechs agreed.
He kissed Trowa's mouth again, capturing those too tempting lips, finally possessing the man he hadn't been able to forget, hadn't wanted to forget.
Trowa's hands moved up Zechs's chest, retracing the paths he had taken months ago, tangled in the sheets of their Key West hotel rooms. Trowa curled his hands around Zechs's neck, fingers teasing at the hair he had pulled back into a low tail.
"Mark me," Trowa demanded.
Zechs moved his hand down to Trowa's throat, thumbed over his collarbone and the sensitive skin just above.
"You have your Team Alignment Meeting," he reminded Trowa, but he was already picking out the exact spot he wanted, teasing his thumb up Trowa's throat, just where his collar would almost cover it.
"Please," Trowa looked him in the eye, holding his gaze, daring him as much as begging.
Zechs smirked.
"Since you said please." He pressed another, quick hard kiss to Trowa's mouth, thrusting his tongue into the hot depths simply because he could, because it felt so damn good, and he had wanted to for too long.
He replaced his thumb with his mouth, laying down a broad stripe with his tongue and Trowa shivered and arched against him.
"Yes," he moaned.
Zechs gave the area a delicate, teasing bite, and then he sucked the flesh into his mouth.
Trowa clutched at him, holding his head in place and clinging to him for support at the same time.
Zechs wished they had more time - wished they were someplace that wasn't the hardly private bathroom at Trowa's office, wished this wasn't the first time he had Trowa in his arms in four months.
But even so, as he eased away, he saw Trowa's skin was already a vivid, angry red. He bruised easily, something that Zechs had taken full advantage of in Key West, decorating Trowa's body with marks and then taking visceral pride in the sight of the bruises on his flesh later.
Trowa's eyes were hazy, the pupils dilated, and he looked sated.
Zechs set his shirt to rights, retying the tie while Trowa smirked up at him.
"I missed you," Trowa said as Zechs tugged the tie into place.
Zechs ran his finger over the edge of Trowa's collar, caressing the mark that was still very visible.
"I missed you too," he admitted.
Trowa's smirk settled, his eyes growing warmer, and the awkwardness of before seemed very distant.
"Go to your meeting," Zechs stepped away from the door and nudged Trowa towards it. "I'll be at your desk when you've finished."
Trowa kissed him, light and teasing.
"It won't take long. And then we can go home and keep exploring your idea of a 'proper hello.'"
-o-
Not long turned out to be nearly an hour. It was more than enough time for Zechs to catch up on his work emails - it was more than a little mind boggling just how many things could go wrong when he decided to take a long weekend.
It also gave Zechs time to look around Trowa's desk, to push aside the leaves and vines of his plants and notice the two photographs that Trowa had pinned to a dry erase calendar on the wall of his space.
One was of a red haired woman and two red haired children, all smiling into the camera, sitting on the porch of an old farmhouse.
Zechs assumed it was Catherine, Trowa's sister, and her children. Trowa had mentioned them in passing, down in Key West, and then had told Zechs more about them, and about growing up on a farm in Ohio, during the many phone calls they had exchanged in the months since Key West.
The other photograph made Zechs smirk.
It was of Trowa and Zechs, standing in Mallory Square during sunset. Trowa had been caught mid laugh, his eyes scrunched closed, mouth open and lips curved upwards while Zechs, in contrast, was scowling in concentration.
Zechs had been the one to take the picture, Trowa teasing him all the while about Zechs' inability to take a proper selfie. Trowa had scrolled through Zechs' attempts afterwards and forwarded several to himself before handing Zechs the phone back and pronouncing him a lost cause.
It was the exact same photograph that Zechs had assigned to Trowa in his phone, after leaving Key West. The image of Trowa, delighted at Zechs' ineptitude, cheeks flushed from the sun and the margaritas they had just finished, was difficult to look away from.
Zechs had found himself scrolling through the photographs of their time in Key West with concerning frequency over the last few months.
He had assumed, the morning he left Trowa, still half asleep and wrapped in the rumpled and stained sheets of his hotel room bed, that the two of them might exchange an occasional text but that Trowa would quickly forget about Zechs and move on to new conquests and Zechs… well. He hadn't fooled himself into thinking that Trowa would be easy to forget, but he also hadn't thought he would be so besotted with him.
Trowa had been the first to text. Two days after Zechs had returned to New York, Trowa had gone home to Chicago and he had sent Zechs a photograph of himself wearing a slightly rumpled, pink linen shirt. It was unbuttoned, and he wasn't wearing anything else.
I think this is yours.
It had taken Zechs a moment to even register that there was an actual text accompanying the photograph.
The shirt or you?
I don't fit in the mail.
Then I'll have to arrange a date to collect what's mine in person.
Zechs had wondered at himself, sending that text, hinting at a continuation of… whatever it was they had had in Key West.
But over the next four months, as one suggestive text turned into another - as Trowa created an entire series of photographs of himself wearing Zechs' shirt and doing increasingly more inappropriate things, considering the fact that he always sent Zechs the texts during work hours - Zechs stopped questioning it.
The texts turned into phone calls, the first from Zechs, one night after celebratory drinks at the bar with a client whose case he had just won, and Zechs realizing he wanted, more than anything else, to simply hear Trowa's voice again.
The phone calls became FaceTime and Skype calls, Trowa answering the first call wearing, once again, nothing but Zechs' shirt, and while they had had more than a few of those calls that were actual, surprisingly personal conversations, most of them began or ended with sex.
Zechs found that he quite enjoyed getting to sit back and tell Trowa what to do, how to touch himself, how not to touch himself, when he could get off. And Trowa, meanwhile, proved to be very enthusiastic about doing everything Zechs requested.
It wasn't the same, of course, as talking to Trowa in person, as bending him over the couch in his apartment and fucking him while Trowa begged for more, but it was surprisingly satisfying, all the same.
It had also proved to be an unexpected deterrent for Zechs' dating anyone else.
He had been the one to tell Trowa that this wasn't a relationship, at least not one that should keep Trowa from pursuing someone else. Trowa had given him a look, not quite an eyeroll, but close enough that Zechs had felt foolish for assuming Trowa would be alone and pining after Zechs in the same way that Zechs pined for him.
And yet, none of the men Zechs had gone on dates with or taken home, in the four months since he had had Trowa in his bed, had compared to the other man.
You are so pathetically smitten, Relena had teased him, absolutely delighted when she discovered that her older brother was engaged in a long distance relationship with his vacation fling.
She wasn't wrong, and Zechs knew it was pathetic. Had known that, from almost the start of the entire thing.
It hadn't stopped him from suggesting that they try to meet up, two months ago. It hadn't stopped him from being furious with the senior partner who called Zechs in as his second chair on a case the very week that Zechs had arranged to fly out to Memphis, where Trowa was working on his next piece for work, and Zechs had had to cancel the plans.
And it hadn't stopped him from agreeing immediately when Trowa invited him to come out and visit him in Chicago the first week of November.
Now that he was actually here, now that he had felt Trowa against him and seen that smirk in person and tasted his lips again, Zechs had to wonder if there was a way to describe his feelings for Trowa that encompassed just how far gone he was past pathetically smitten.
When Trowa's meeting finally ended, Zechs forced himself to lean back in Trowa's chair, to look as casually bored and unconcerned as possible, when all he wanted to do was grab his bags, and Trowa, and haul him out of the office and into a bed. Hell, it didn't even have to be a bed. The nearest secluded wall would do.
Trowa's colleagues strolled out of the conference room in pairs, until only Trowa, a smiling blond haired man, and a scowling Asian man were left.
As Zechs watched, Trowa glanced his way and offered up a tight, frustrated smile. Even from across the room, Zechs could read Trowa's body language well enough to know that he was anxious to get out of there.
He wondered if there was something specific to the meeting that Trowa wanted to get away from or, he hoped, if it was simply so he and Zechs could escape.
Finally, the three men rose from the conference table and gathered their things before filing out of the room.
Trowa made a beeline for Zechs, long legs striding across the room in a way that was endearingly more about speed than grace.
Zechs arched an eyebrow when Trowa got close and Trowa arched one in return, the right corner of his mouth quirking upwards to match.
"Ready?" Trowa asked him.
"For what?" Zechs teased, slowly standing up and giving Trowa back his desk chair.
Trowa sat down in the chair, looked very pointedly at Zechs's crotch, and then turned to his computer to begin shutting it down.
"To get out of here and -"
"You must be Zechs."
Trowa's shoulders slumped and he sighed, audibly and loudly.
Zechs turned and saw both the blond man and the Asian man standing nearby.
The blond man was grinning, the expression open and friendly on his handsome face, while the other man was giving Zechs a rather skeptical look.
"Must he be?" The Asian man murmured with a raised eyebrow.
Zechs couldn't decide whether or not he disliked him for that.
"Zechs, this is my boss, Quatre Winner, and Wufei Chang, the senior editor. Wufei, Quatre, this is Zechs Merquise." Trowa made the introductions without looking away from his computer, and his voice sounded weary and uninterested.
"Pleasure to finally meet you," Quatre stepped forward and held out his hand.
Finally?
Zechs met the hand with his own.
"And you," he said, baffled and unable to come up with a smooth response.
Wufei did not offer his hand.
The skeptical look had become downright judgemental, and Zechs prickled under the dark gaze.
"Well. I'll see you on Monday." Trowa stood up from his desk, grabbing a computer bag in one hand and the coat draped over his chair in the other.
Wufei's expression turned amused, but Quatre's grin faltered a little.
"Oh. Skipping out on the office happy hour tonight, then?"
Zechs saw Trowa draw in a deep breath.
"Yeah. Zechs has had a long day and -"
"It's only a few drinks, though," Quatre countered, turning that disarming smile back on Zechs. "It will give us the chance to get to know you a little!"
"Yes," Wufei agreed, smirking openly, "it isn't every day Trowa has an out of town visitor."
Zechs didn't know if the dig was aimed at him or Trowa, but Trowa's lips tightened and he glared at Wufei.
"I'm sure Zechs wants to shower and relax. He's probably hungry and -"
"Can't he speak for himself?" Wufei interrupted.
"I can," Zechs confirmed, but he hesitated to say more. He didn't want to be rude to the two men that Trowa worked for, but Trowa's barely polite rebuttal of the offer to go out wasn't seeming to get through to them.
"We don't meet at the bar until nine, anyway. Plenty of time for a shower and dinner," Quatre waved off that excuse.
Trowa turned from the two men and focused on Zechs. There was nothing in his face that suggested he had any interest in going out with the other men.
But Zechs, who had struggled up the corporate law ladder, clawing his way from associate to junior partner in record time and now angling for a full partnership, knew the damage that avoiding work functions could have on a career.
He shrugged.
"A few drinks sounds good."
Quatre looked delighted, Wufei satisfied, and Trowa completely nonplussed.
"Excellent. Then we'll see you at the Frontier in a few hours!"
The two men walked away and Zechs picked up his bags from beside Trowa's desk.
"Shall we?"
Trowa nodded, his expression still tight, and led the way out of the office.
It wasn't until they were in the elevator, alone and leaning against the rear wall of the car, that Trowa turned to him and spoke again.
"We don't have to go. I can text him and cancel."
Zechs wanted to flatter himself that Trowa didn't want to sacrifice any of their scant time together by squandering it on drinks with his colleagues, but Trowa seemed very determined to avoid going out with them. Which made Zechs curious.
"I don't mind," he assured Trowa. "After all, we'll need some sort of break."
"A break?"
"Hm." Zechs stepped close and angled his head down so he could nip at the mark he had left on Trowa's neck. "I can't keep you handcuffed to your bed for the entire four days I'm here. You'll want to stretch and eat and bathe at some point."
Trowa shivered against him, turning his head so that his lips brushed over Zechs' as he straightened back up.
"You're sure?"
"Well, I don't have another four day sex marathon to compare it to, but I think it's a safe assumption to -"
Trowa gave him a look and snorted.
"You don't want to go. Why?"
It suddenly occurred to Zechs that Trowa might not want to go out with him and his friends and colleagues. After all, Zechs was nearly a dozen years older than Trowa and the other men and women he had seen in that office.
Trowa shrugged, but was saved from answering by the elevator's arrival on the ground floor.
Zechs followed Trowa through the building's lobby and out to the street.
The office building was directly across from Millennium Park, and even though it was cold and fairly windy, Zechs saw more than a few tourists walking towards the infamous Cloud Gate sculpture, the reflective silver surface glinting through the trees.
Trowa was silent as he hailed a cab, and as he helped Zechs load his bags into the trunk before they both slid into the backseat.
After Trowa gave the driver his address, though, he leaned back against the seat and laid his hand, palm up, on the seat between them.
Zechs slid his fingers into Trowa's.
"I'd rather stay home with you. Or go out with just you," Trowa said, answering Zechs' earlier question.
"So would I," Zechs sighed. "But I don't want to get in the way of your work."
Trowa snorted.
"Going out for drinks with them isn't for work. It's so they can give me a hard time about you, and Wufei can try to get under your skin and - and Hilde will probably be there too. And Meilan. And -"
"Two drinks," Zechs cut him off. He leaned over and lowered his voice. "And then we'll go back to your apartment and you can model my shirt for me in person."
Trowa smirked at that, leaning towards Zechs before he caught himself and, with a regretful glance towards the driver who was paying more attention to them than the street in front of him, Trowa eased back against the seat.
"That sounds good."
The rest of the ride was silent, Zechs unashamedly looking out of the windows at the city he had only been to once before, as a teenager. It was nice to sit there with Trowa, touching him, settling into his company again.
After only a few minutes, the driver pulled up beside an ivy covered brick townhouse.
Zechs had to smirk. At the ivy, at the red door. Trowa had never described where he lived, but this - far more than the office he worked at - fit with Zechs' mental image of Trowa and his life.
He waved Trowa's hand away when he tried to pay for the ride, and they unloaded their bags from the trunk and made their way up the the stairs to the front stoop.
Zechs had seen glimpses of Trowa's apartment during their Facetime and Skype calls, so he didn't feel compelled to ask for a tour or make a show of looking around when Trowa opened the door and gestured him inside.
"Here it is. My humble abode."
He nodded and followed Trowa's lead in toeing off his shoes and putting them against the wall.
"So," Trowa dropped his bag by the door and took off his coat. "Are you hungry?"
Zechs sat down his own bags.
"Starving." He hadn't eaten since that morning, grabbing a bagel on his way to LaGuardia to catch his flight.
"Do you want to go out or I could call in something or…" Trowa frowned and glanced towards what Zechs assumed was the kitchen, "I could probably throw together an omelette."
"Tempting."
Zechs moved closer to Trowa and reached for his waist, waiting for Trowa to look up and meet his gaze before he started to loosen Trowa's belt and work the fly of his trousers down.
"I had something else in mind, though. If that's alright with you." He slipped his hand under the soft cotton of Trowa's briefs and palmed his cock.
Trowa released a soft, startled chuckle.
"What kind of host would I be if I didn't let my guest have his way?"
"You don't mind?"
"Letting you have your way with me? I think we've established that I don't mind it at all," Trowa reminded him.
Zechs smirked, both at the words and at the way Trowa's cheeks were already flushed, at just his touch and the thought of more.
He pressed a quick, hard kiss to Trowa's lips and then knelt down, pushing Trowa's trousers and briefs down to his thighs as he did.
He focused his attention on Trowa's cock, already growing hard in his hand, and he guided the shaft into his mouth.
Trowa sighed in contentment, leaning back against the wall and looking down at Zechs as he swallowed Trowa's length.
"Fuck, I've missed you," Trowa groaned when Zechs smoothed his hands over Trowa's bare ass and squeezed the cheeks.
Zechs swirled his tongue around Trowa's cock, feeling it grow harder and longer, swelling and firming under his care.
He ran his teeth against the sensitive flesh just under the head and Trowa shuddered.
His eyes were dark and bottomless, the pupils dilated. It was a look that Zechs had missed, that Facetime could never quite convey.
Another thing Facetime hadn't been able to share had been Trowa's scent, his soap and him combining to make Zechs' mouth water as he inhaled.
Of course, it was the feel of Trowa, of his trembling thighs and his clutching hands and his hips, rocking into Zechs' mouth as Zechs fondled Trowa's balls and sucked on just the head of his cock, leaving the now wet shaft exposed to the cool air of the apartment, that Zechs had missed the most.
He moved his hand away from Trowa's ass and and stroked his cock, keeping his mouth focused on just the head while he worked over the rest of the firm flesh with his fingers.
Soon, he had Trowa on the brink of orgasm. His head was thrown back, eyes closed and long neck stretched out as he gasped and groaned. Zechs could see the mark, bright and straining against the collar of his shirt.
Zechs shifted his angle, taking Trowa's entire length into his mouth again.
"Fuck, oh fuck, yes," Trowa moaned as Zechs hollowed his cheeks and sucked on him in earnest, moving his head backwards and forwards, Trowa's cock filling his mouth and swelling even as his fingers tightened on Zechs' shoulders.
And then Trowa cried out, pleasure and relief coloring the wordless sound and Zechs had to move his hands to Trowa's thighs, holding him upright while he milked him, swallowing Trowa's cum as Trowa gave shallow, involuntary thrusts of his hips with each spurt.
He eased away when he heard Trowa give a low whimper, and he released Trowa's still hard cock from his mouth and rose to his feet.
Trowa met his mouth eagerly, lips parting and his tongue delving into Zechs' mouth to taste himself.
Zechs held him close, pressing the length of his body against Trowa, rocking his own painfully hard cock against Trowa's groin.
Trowa's arms came up around his neck, fingers tugging at his hair even as he opened his mouth wider, inviting Zechs to thrust his tongue inside the hot, welcoming cavern.
Just kissing Trowa felt good. So damn good. The way he met each movement of Zechs' - tongues dancing together, mouth and lips moving against Zechs', hands and fingers clinging to him, soft sighs encouraging him - it was heaven.
Eventually, he gentled the kiss and then pulled away entirely.
He looked down into Trowa's eyes, hooded and hot, at his swollen lips and flushed cheeks.
Trowa looked thoroughly wrecked, and Zechs felt some measure of pride for that.
He smirked and ran his thumb around Trowa's mouth.
The younger man nipped at the digit, capturing it between his teeth momentarily.
"Brat," Zechs said fondly.
Trowa just smirked back up at him.
"That was definitely a proper hello," he said.
Zechs chuckled and had to kiss him again.
"Yes," he agreed. "It was."
-o-
