Endless Weiss: TrowaXOmi - Little Secrets

There it was again, moaning. Both occupants froze, eyes snapping opening to regard each other. They lay down in complete silence until it started again, this time louder, and within a flutter the younger boy had pinned his ears to the wall, eyes wide.

Trowa kept his face expressionless, grabbing his pillow to block off the sounds coming from the next room. As long as it wasn't Quatre's voice wafting through the air, he absolutely didn't give a whit who was doing what to whom so loudly that it beat out the storm pounding outside. Omi however, was attached to the wall, face a parody of shock. "Masaka!"

Trowa shrugged, uncaring. The room was the last in the hall, with only them to hear the moaning and no one else. Probably the drunken florist and Duo.

"Masaka." It was whispered to full of disbelief that Trowa's curiosity was at least skimmed. He peered to the small boy, who was about to poke his arm. "Is Heero-kun really so…" his voice trailed off, not knowing how to describe it.

Heero? Trowa sat up, a curious feeling nagging at his head. So the next room belonged to… Aya wasn't it? From Omi's reaction and what he himself saw he deducted that this Aya wasn't much of an extrovert himself. Then how could it be possible that… Surely they were mistaken! Sheets trampled to the floor, he was next to Omi against the wall.

/"Mmm… more, faster. Faster!"/

Fists clenched, almost shaking. "What the hell are they doing?" Trowa murmured, mostly to himself. In front of him Omi almost fell over. "Honto?"

"Faster?" Trowa looked confused despite the barest flicker of variation in expression. Heero, definitely the Wing pilot's arrogant voice, was making the most awful sounds, moaning and half-screaming as if he was being tortured. Surely something was wrong - this from a boy who merely winced when shot twice? He had not heard his co-pilot say any more before!

He turned to Omi, who was looking nervously at his hands, and to a certain extent raised his brow. Was the boy hiding something? His friend could be hurt, if one so menacing as to threaten Heero had entered their room. "Tsukiyono-san, we must see if the others are alright." He didn't want to frighten the boy, but this could be urgent.

Omi bowed his head, flushing to his roots. "We c-can't Trowa-kun...!"

"Why not?" Trowa would never show it, but he was getting concerned. If Heero was injured in any way it would be a hindrance to future missions. He took hold of Omi's wrist sternly.

Omi almost gasped at the contact, realization dawning piece by piece, as if he refused to admit it. But when he looked up and encountered the sincere face, it clicked in. Oh.

"Oh." What to say? "You. Don't. Know…"

He could have burst into giggles right there and then, regardless of the chagrin he knew Trowa would not *show*, but something young and precocious and avid was pulling at his strings to keep a straight face and *consider* other options. Teasing Ken with his innocence was one thing, but someone who actually knew nothing?

Oh my.

Trowa's face was blank, analyzing and thinking to a certain extent before finally asking. "Know what?"

"Aya and Heero. They're… being intimate."

Trowa shrugged. He knew of Heero's preferences, and their red-haired host was quite attractive. But he still could not understand the racket. He didn't have to ask, didn't think anything of asking or felt that he had to. He just did.

"What exactly are they doing?" Deadpan as ever.

Omi had to smile. A real smile. It couldn't be helped. Their knees where touching.

"Trowa-kun, you really don't know?"

He merely nodded. He was… curious. Kissing could never be so noisy. He remembered how Duo had kissed him before, soft and sweet, and the usually garrulous baka had uttered not a word during the whole two seconds their lips touched. A record.

/"Uhngn… Gods!"/

With careful scrutiny he pressed his lips on the sunny smile and stayed there, waited. Omi was caught by surprise, not expecting to *be* kissed, hands automatically held in front of him. That was… fast, certainly faster than he could have imagined Trowa could move - almost like when his stalker from Schwartz had pulled him into a dark corner and ravished him before sending him back to the Koneko all dazed and giddy and *hard*.

And he did pick something up. He could still hear the husky voice prodding in his ear.

*Tell me where you want to be kissed.*

Green, Trowa's eyes were green. He hadn't closed them, didn't know the need to. Lighter than the venomous jade that had set the fire in his hormonal teenage body on fire but with the same depth.

Tiny fingers clasped the light cotton fabric of Trowa's shirt, tugging. Omi closed his eyes, hoping Trowa would follow suit, and slowly, shyly kissed back, awkwardly imitating the passionate outburst in his memories. Unfortunately, Trowa failed to respond.

Numerous as it was the number of times he had made-out with Aya's large bed pillows, a real life partner that was *this* passive sucked. *In a bad way.*

He pulled harder, kissed faster. He could have imagined that he was still kissing the assassin or maybe Ken-kun, but knowing it was Trowa did just as well. The older boy was quite handsome, and stoic, and basically a *stranger*. Omi hated strangers for some unknown reason for as long as he can remember, but for a naïve bishounen to be in his room, his arms and his *bed*, well…

Trowa could almost be… mysterious.

And so he persisted until finally Trowa had the grace to close his eyes and at least move his mouth in flow with Omi's, trying to find a pattern. And there was one; head tilting to the right, then the left, then back… Opposite directions, open and close, just setting movements per set. It was easy.

He was getting the hang of it, reading Omi's movements, when it stopped. Trowa blinked open, surprised. He had not tried making sounds yet, testing if it was possible to speak while kissing. Blue eyes were on him, unsteady.

"What are we doing wrong?"

Trowa frowned, a conversation the last thing he was expecting. Was Omi asking him? He shrugged his indifference, fingers to his lips. They felt strange, almost like they were tingling.

"Trowa-kun, this is supposed to be fun." Omi sounded like he was pouting, visually upset by their experience. Before he had been kissed he had never thought of it, and after, it was all he ever thought of. He thought it would always be fantastical, as movie-momentus as when Aya-kun had swiped his hand and brushed his mouth over them in dashing-fashion or sweet like when he would peck at Ken-kun on awkward places of his face and see the older boy blush to his roots. And then there was The Kiss, *everywhere*, by the graceful shadow trailing him after school. But now without the emotion, or passion, kissing was as inanimate and tedious as shaking hands repeatedly.

He had tried, and pushed, and pulled, but something had been missing. Trowa was *not* getting the message.

/"Aa~ah!!/ Heero's husky voice echoed through the walls, teasing at Omi like a pat on the head.

/Maybe next time chibi…/ He raised an imaginary fist, hearing the utterly annoying words hurled at him again - and so realistically rendered in Yoji-kun's voice.

Oh, how did they do it?!? Heero and Aya-niichan, the two least affectionately adept people Omi ever met, so entangled in a heated exchange just beyond thin walls that they forgot just who was next door. Innocent Omi. Naïve Omi. Virginal Omi.

Well he could only not deny the last part, because it was, alas, true, and never had it felt truer so. Omi turned to look at Trowa again, a silent, unresponsive rock by his side. Planning, planning.

/Aya! Who covers my eyes during "love scenes" in movies!/

He toyed with the hem of his shirt, making sure that his belly-button was peeking deliciously above the hem of his pajamas - Ken-kun fell for it each time. But then Trowa's gaze fell directly to the wall, and the only way for him to even notice Omi's little play was if Omi stood in front of him and shoved it to his face. Unsightly indeed.

Sigh. Maybe he should just tell him.

/Why not…?/

It would have needed prodding, granted that Omi was sort of shy in some ways, but he knew how to handle that. Quickly he took in the rumpled array of clothing, long lean legs bent back on both sides and what was in bet- oi not that! Omi tightened his fists and fought the urge to blush. Well, there was still Trowa's naturally inviting lower lip and sexy shoulders and… with not a deep breath, he hurled himself over Trowa.

"O-omi-kun?" The hansome stoic was collected as ever, but Omi saw the little flicker in his eyes. This would be his second, and last, approach.

"Trowa-kun, why don't you tell me what *you* want…?" He batted thick lashes in what he hoped was a seductive manner. Damn the posies if this didn't work…

Trowa thought for a moment, then looked at him directly. "Why are they making those noises? Kissing isn't that exciting, if at all." Ouch.

Ouch… Well, Omi thought he'd let that one pass this time. Greater things were ahead. If anything, Omi regarded, or forced himself to regard it, as a challenge. Suddenly he could feel his insides stir and quiver.

"I'll tell you why…" He put out his tongue, darting at Trowa's nose. It felt silly, but he tried to make it seem sexy and even racy. Ah, his bishounen did say he looked like a pin-up for yaoi mag - he could *do* racy. Before Trowa could say anything else, he drew in the guts and went for the cotton hem of Trows's shorts.

*Direct works best, all the time, angel.*

Trowa had no idea what Omi was going to do, but the moment cold fingers latched over his groin the reaction was instantaneous. He took Omi's shoulders as if to push him away, but of course, couldn't. The small fingers were soft and steady and firm and…

And Trowa's head fell back, the rapid change of expression almost impossible for the stoic boy. "O-omi!" Gods the boy seemed to know what he was doing!

And he *did*. This was something Omi did master, if only by practicing it to himself. By the way Trowa's expression had completely turned around, he knew, he was doing something right. Carefully he wrapped his palm over the building flesh, cradling it and pinching slightly at the skin.

Slowly at first, he pulsed, just kneading enough for Trowa to come to life, working at hardening the amount at his hands. Pretty impressive, Omi noted. That is, larger than his.

"O-omi what are y-you…" Gods, this was getting good! Trowa sounded like he was struggling with the words, and was starting to suck in breath in large gasps. Omi clasped a hand around Trowa's mouth. "You wanted to know didn't you?"

Trowa nodded, eyes falling shut. "Good. Now relax."

He let his fingers work gently at first, then started to move faster when he noticed that Trowa was trying to control the sensation. Oh, but there was a bright crimson line over his cheeks and he was beginning to sweat, fists clenching as his body went rigid, trying not to fall back. And then the lips parted.

It was his cue. Pulling roughly now Omi seized the opportunity, biting Trowa's lower lip to pull his entire upper body nearer then taking Trowa's mouth and finally tasting it. And oh did Trowa kiss him back this time! This time he let his eyes close and he *knew* the difference, full, wide lips crushing against Omi's like he did it all the time.

Omi almost yelped when he was grabbed by the shoulders and gathered close, broad hands rubbing up and down his back, the nape of his neck and even his hair, sudden heat burning between his thighs. This from Trowa, who couldn't even respond just minutes ago! He tried to inch closer, raising his legs over Trowa's to let their bodies collide and wrap them around his hips. He practically wanted to straddle him but didn't feel quite ready, virginal little shivers erupting at the thought. He was getting nervous now! He could still remember The Kiss…

The memory rapped hard at his head and he found himself thrusting his tongue into the wet cavern of Trowa's mouth, who ate on him as though he drew strength from it. Omi strained against the itchy elastic on his wrist, deciding to be rid of it once and for all by extracting the throbbing erection out of the cotton boxers and squeezing - hard. Just for attention. And it worked.

The minute he tightened his hold green eyes had snapped open in shock, abandoning previous pleasure for a look of pleading for more. Omi beamed - it was a Moment; he could very well be Trowa's first, and the thought of "devirginizing" someone, nonetheless handsome, *older* Trowa Barton made him feel absolutely… well, experienced! Yoji-kun can tease him all he wants now, and he couldn't care less. Let's see him resist this little number Omi was sure he would be mastering!

"Come on now Trowa, now's your chance. Try it." He kneaded firmly, delighting on how the steely defenses had slipped and how he was wriggling in place by now. Trowa had always been quiet, too quiet during the whole evening. He wanted to hear the steady voice, *unsteady*.

"This is why, Trowa." Omi whispered into Trowa's ear, the silky, suggestive undertone in his voice genuine this time. Omi himself was more than breathless, but he had way, way more control over the situation. He pinched the tip of Trowa's cock between two fingers, sliding a thumb none-too-gently over the head and into the slit, toying with the forming moisture. With other fingers joining he kept his hand only at the very tip - and stayed there. Tight fists balled up the fabric at the back of his pajamas

"Say something." Trowa scrunched his eyes, wanted to feel more, wanting to bury deeper into Omi's hands. He had and could do this himself but hot damn this was something else! Not just the fact that it was someone else's hand but it was different, how he was being stroked and handled from elsewhere, the angle, the texture, the pressure, and the baby blond haired, blue-eyed Tsukiyono Omi who so unhesistantly surprised him.

He wanted to press as closely to the little blond, his mind vaguely appreciating the graceful softness of Omi's body - he didn't know what was wrong with him but his hands couldn't get enough of the boy! He let his hands wander inside Omi's blouse and felt the boy tense when he felt skin against skin, Omi's back smooth and warm and supple under his fingers. When he tugged the small waist forward a bit roughly this time he heard Omi let out a shivery moan, teeth latching to his ear and coaxing.

"Say anything Trowa. I want to hear it!" Sharp nails poised to scratch the sensitive skin, movement almost ceased. In half-misted awareness Trowa parted his mouth not for better access for Omi's tongue ready to do whatever he had to for the molten pressure in his groin to explode.

"Faster Omi-kun…" Trowa almost begged in murmurs, reining every part of himself that he could. It was so typical of him, but Omi did *not* like murmurs, did not want whispers for his efforts. He tugged long and forceful, then halted near the end, bending forward with a wicked idea.

*Mmm… tender.*

"Aa~agh!!!" Trowa gripped both Omi's shoulders, back arching as sharp teeth cut through the skin between his neck and shoulder. Omi tasted the coppery flavor then winced, and blinked. Blood?

"Oh! Gomen Trowa-kun!" The blush on his own cheeks darkened. He had not intended to wound Trows, just tease. But his skin was so soft on his lips, so invinting - maybe he had been too enthusiastic! Oh no, now Trowa-kun would think he was a psycho-hentai!

Oh but it felt good when he himself was stimulated that way, never mind the tear-jerking twang of pain when the German decided to mark him as his, piercing his right ear with a silver dangling cross right there and then with his bare hands, just pushing the sharp edge into the flesh of his ears.

Well, it couldn't be so that bad since Trowa was obviously *enjoying* the situation as he was! The struggling pilot had not pushed him away or expressed concern, and if anything had buried his face on his neck! He wanted to hear it again though, a scream, a moan, anything, and he would do what was needed but Trowa beat him to the punch.

With a shudder, a strangled sob and head throw, the green eyes shot open. Silence. Then…
"AAAAAAAAA~AAAHHHH!!!!!!!!!! OMI!!!!!!!!!"

Creamy dampness filled his palm, jutting out forcefully. Trowa fell to his elbows, panting. Immediately Omi stood up, stepped out, and ran to the bathroom down the hall. p

The moment he entered the Weiss' shared bathroom Omi almost melted, winded from his sudden dash across the hall. Oh Kami!!! Trowa had screamed his name, and not just screamed but *moaned*!!! Omi stood pale-faced against the wall, a thousand and one scenarios flashing in his mind…

He wanted to see Trowa out-of-control and begging, but not that much! If anyone was, and surely there was, awake then they would have heard and instantly know! He had done it, made Trowa, made someone else come… But what if Ken-niichan had heard, or Yoji-niichan, and surely Heero and Aya-niichan were still awake and…
Oh just screw it! Right now he had better things to do!

Quickly he delved into his pajamas, eyes lidding as he found his own painfully neglected and rightfully earned erection, pumping the moment flesh found flesh. His fingers were incredibly cold and it felt amazingly jolting, the friction heating his entire body up quickly. He sank to the floor.

"Aa~ah!!!" He had been waiting for too long! Already he could feel the surging heat down his lower abdomen, maybe lower, begging for it. Absently he wondered how it would feel, what he did to Trowa, recalling with precise diligence Schulderich's lean, muscular thigh that rubbed against his shy erection, the strong broad hands that cupped his buttocks so eagerly as he was groped, sampled and forced to a dark corner, Yoji obliviously smoking somewhere in his peripheral vision just across the street. After that one time he had never viewed Ken the same way again, hoping desperately that he would also be capable of handling Omi so…

*You like it rough, little one. I sense it.*

"Aa~ah!" Golden green sparks burst all over, soccer balls spinning over his head and sticky creaminess inside his shorts. Finally…

Sparkling jade eyes lit over him, grinding, grinding, "H-hai!" - that was all he ever got to say. And now he was sprawled on the floor, a boneless pile of boyish and not-so-boyish fantasies drifting after an efficient, self-induced climax. The tiles felt so cold suddenly under his legs and on the nape of his neck, but he wasn't that sweaty. He had barely finished, hand still lightly pumping once, twice, when…

Bang!

Omi's heart must've stopped, fingers clenching over the flaccid remains of his arousal. It was as if he didn't even recognize him at first, and the overwhelming feeling of dread and horrification glued him to the spot.

"Uh… Niichan…"

Violet orbs broke up into a searing glare, straight to the source of interruption. Omi didn't know now whether to scream or sob - Aya had burst into the bathroom, so urgent his need that he did *not* notice him seated by the tub with his hands caught in his pajamas!

Aya stood there for a full Moment, the two of them staring at each other in disbelief for having caught one another, the last two people they expected or wanted to see. Not young innocent Omi. Not serious, stern Aya. Not the Omi he wanted to teach everything. Not the Aya who he'd only have the nerve to ask by acting naïve… Calmly Aya withdrew his hand from his pajamas, proptly placing it behind his back.

"O-omi." Red faced, barely-controlled fury, voice still as calm as always. "Get out." Omi squeaked and turned to flee, but not without a tight grip grabbing his collar from behind…
"Wait."


Wobbly knees took a step at a time, soap-scrubbed hands pulling the door knob open after padding across the hallway with his little secret, little secrets that spilled more than usual that night - one now lying on his bed. God had Aya given him a fright! And of all people! With all the moaning and cooing they heard from his room he had expected Aya to be the least in need of relief! Strangely though the older boy had still the sense of discipline to make him wash his hands when all he wanted to really do was scramble out of the bathroom and wish Aya would think it was a dream in the morning!


Trowa remained still, fallen asleep, even as he crawled on his side and twisted to find a comfortable position, tempted to snuggle up to the older boy but not wanting to disturb him.
Funny, he was exhausted. Must be all the thinking, Omi mumbled, dozing of. "Oyasumi Trowa-kun" he murmured sleepily.

"Oyasumi."

Omi eyes blinked open one at a time. He thought he heard Trowa say something, but the boy was still on the same position, unlikely awake. Omi shrugged, shifting in position to move a little closer to the barely lit fine features. Long arms and limbs opened and welcomed him, a small but actual smile. Omi beamed.

"Ah. Sweet dreams Trowa-kun."


Omi: Thank you for reading! If you liked this fic, please visit my niichan's dojo at http://clik.to/shiine