DISCLAIMER: I do not own Gundam Wing or any song by the Smashing Pumpkins. I am simply an E5 in the USN, and thus have no money. So ha.

A/N: Ah yes, the infamous chapter 19. Contains lemony content. If this squigs you out, skim it. For those who've been awaiting this thing, enjoy!

-BEGIN FIC-

I won't deny the pain
I won't deny the change
and should I fall from grace here with you
will you leave me too?

Galapogos

-- 21:51 --

Trowa sighed quietly, his voice weary and tired as he lugged the last of the heavy suitcases that had been tossed errantly into the back of the beaten white Mercedes he had driven to the night-riddled city of Los Angeles from the desert's depths. "That should be the last of them," he grunted, hefting the metal-sided case onto one of the twinned full-sized beds that occupied the spacious room.

"Thank you, Trowa. I'm sorry I couldn't help," Quatre's worn voice simpered from the nearby bathroom.

"Don't apologize. I understand."

Silence followed, penetrated by nothing but the hiss of hot water spraying from the silver showerhead that erupted from the tile wall of the shower stall.

Trowa took the opportunity to glance about their newest hotel room. 'Well, at least we're keeping it modest and not drawing attention to ourselves. I was afraid he'd be ordering one of those luxury suites under the Winner credit card.'

Indeed, they were in a Holiday Inn Express just outside of downtown Los Angeles. It was a simple room with nondescript blue-gray carpeting that was almost threadbare it was so thin. Two full sized beds, one dresser upon which sat a twenty inch television and a coffee pot with its prerequisite paper cups and coffee ground packages, a miniature refrigerator with a small microwave bolted to its top, a night stand situated between the paired beds with a telephone and an alarm clock seated atop of it, a simple small round table with a pair of overstuffed tan-colored chairs around it made up the major living space's conglomeration of furniture. A small closet was all that was provided for storage, a singular bar with three coat hangers within its confines, located in the small area between the sink and the carpeted living area in the tiled recesses of what almost might be considered the beginning of the bedroom. Through a door to the left as one faced the mirror with its three simple spherical sconce lights and the counter with its sink was the single toilet and its accompanying bath tub with its showerhead along with its normal faucet. A simple room for a reasonable price purchased using cash so their identities remained unknown.

Trowa sighed as he stared at the metal-sided case that rested upon the comforter-covered bed, taking in the stark contrast of steel against rose and beige swirled patterns. 'We still have to get that Mercedes replaced. And we're going to have to do some shopping. We didn't grab any clothing.'

He lifted his gaze and peered through his bangs as the bathroom door opened and his partner emerged, his head drooped and shoulders slack. "You alright?" Trowa instantly asked, arching one brow to belay his concern.

"Aa. Wound reopened, but I should be able to live with it," Quatre groaned softly, one thin and pale hand pressed to an equally thin and pale shoulder. Strolling tiredly to the bed the taller pilot was seated on, his bare feet silent on the carpeted floor, the blonde smoothed his boxers before sitting down. "I'll be fine. No reason for you to be concerned, Trowa."

Nodding once, Trowa leaned back to garner a better glimpse at the wound in question. "That's going to get infected if it keeps reopening."

"I washed it out well."

"I'm going out for supplies."

"No," Quatre instantly shot, his eyes fierce as he turned his gaze to meet Trowa's. "Stay put for the time being."

"…."

"We've got to ensure that the coast is clear," Quatre clarified as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and knitting his brow even as he laced his fingers together.

"And how are we to accomplish that? We can't go out and perform surveillance if we have nothing to work with, to live on, or to wear. We can't ensure the coast is clear if we don't have supplies to begin with. We need supplies now, Quatre. Not five days from now. We didn't grab any food, any medicinal supplies or any clothing."

"I'm aware of that. I've got a phone, though, and a few reliable allies in the area. They'll be fetching our supplies for us."

"Allies?"

Smiling faintly, Quatre nodded. "Abdul's going to kill me for using him as a courier, but he'll do as I ask. Though I hate having to utilize the Maguanac like this, they're the only recourse I've got."

Trowa blinked once, then twice. 'That's right. I'd forgotten that at least two of his personal army members are roaming around in this area.' "But aren't they a bit conspicuous?"

"Thinking our assailants will follow them to find us?"

Trowa nodded. "It would be a simple enough task," he added. "From what I've seen, respect them as I might, they're not the most subtle of people."

A giggle leaked past Quatre's lips as he shook his head. "I'd have to agree with that. However, there's no one else around."

"True."

"So, what're your dimensions?"

Trowa hung his head and chuckled softly. 'I can't believe him at times.'

After giving Quatre the information he required and watching as the boy hefted the phone's handle to his ear and deftly punched number after number on the keypad, Trowa lightly rested a hand upon the smaller boy's shoulder. He smiled as the boy relaxed under his touch.

'Despite all that just happened yesterday, he makes me so calm and relaxed. It's like nothing can possibly go wrong at this moment in time and nothing can interfere.'

'I think that's one of his most endearing traits. He had that during the war as well – time seemed to stand still when he was around.'

'And even now, I find myself more interested in touching him than in figuring out what's going on and how we were found. Typical.'

As Quatre quickly spoke in his native tongue, Trowa sighed and lightly began to kneed that flesh that was uninjured on his companion even as a frown took his lips.

'How DID they find us? And what truly IS going on?'

'I still haven't figured anything out. Only thing I know is that I'm here for you, Quatre. I'll protect you from everything, whether it's ambushers or yourself. I won't deny myself or you any longer, whether it brings about happiness or pain. I won't deny the changes in my feelings that have come to fruition, developing since we first met on the battlefield called 'Earth'. Because I love you, even as you confessed to loving me.'

-- 13:50, 186 Days Ago--

As Duo turned away to cover his weakness with a hanky and blow his nose, Quatre smiled. "We'd forgotten to tell him," he whispered.

"Oops."

Trowa felt Quatre's arms snake back around his waist one more time.

"You keep yourself safe, OK?"

Trowa nodded.

"I love you."

Trowa turned to face Quatre, his lips parting.

"All first-class passengers, please report to boarding gate 14. All first-class passengers, boarding gate 14, please," the announcer's loudspeaker squealed.

With a smile, Quatre lightly patted Trowa's shoulder. "Take care. Call me to let me know you've gotten home safely, neh?"

Trowa nodded, even as he was ushered towards the gate, checked in, and shoved by pale, thin hands through the boarding gate and towards the plane.

By the time he'd turned back to speak to the boy, he'd been swept up in the crowd and was now being herded up onto the escalator that would bring him to the plane.

-- 22:30 --

"And a dress shirt in gray. I hope it will work for you, Quatre-sama."

A light laugh erupted from the blonde seated on the edge of the bed closest to the hotel room's door. "I'm certain it will be fine. I really don't need everything custom tailored, despite popular belief."

"Anything else?"

Trowa leaned against the refrigerator, elbow rested atop the microwave that was whirring as it earnestly heated a container of Cup Noodles. Arching a brow, he kept his gaze firmly situated upon the tall Arab man with his sunglasses and his fez as he and Quatre calmly discoursed with one another. "How about Sandrock Gundam?"

Both Quatre and Abdul turned their gazes to Trowa, blue eyes stunned, brown eyes almost incredulous at being spoken to by someone other than one of his Corp or Quatre. Turning his eyes to Quatre, Abdul arched one brow over the rim of his dark glasses.

"It's alright. Trowa is allowed to know all that's going on so far as the Gundams are concerned. Him being Heavyarms' pilot, he has a right to critical information of that nature."

"Understood, Quatre-sama," Abdul replied before leaning against the wall beside the door and crossing his arms over his chest. "The Gundam has been moved to our stronghold in the Arabian desert."

"Which country?"

"Syria."

Quatre nodded calmly. "Anyone notice?"

"No, Quatre-sama. We take great pride in being able to move anything about or between our desert homes undetected by all. The Gundam was simply part of the entourage of desert survival equipment the Maguanac were moving for permanent storage as reliable backup supplies, as new upgrades to our current equipment have been released. Our allegiances ensure that news of the Gundam's relocation won't be spread."

"Excellent," Quatre sighed, his shoulders sagging in visible relief. "Be careful. If you remain in the area with the Gundam, whoever might be seeking it-"

"We've already relocated, Quatre-sama."

Trowa nodded once before opening the microwave door and pulling his piping hot soup from its confines. Setting it on the dresser and laying his chopsticks over its top to hold the paper lid firmly in place and allow the noodles within the Styrofoam cup to more effectively absorb the freshly heated water, the brunette asked, "So, any clue as to who was after the Gundam, and why?"

"We've been looking into that, Mr. Barton," the mercenary sighed, shaking his head. "We have few leads. The person who managed to break into our holding facility also managed to elude us when we set chase. Slippery bastard. All we've got is the surveillance videos."

"Do you have them?" Trowa interjected.

"Not on me. They're with Rashid."

Quatre scratched his chin, frowning lightly as he asked, "Do you remember anything remarkable about this person? Were you there?"

"Oh, I was there, Quatre-sama," Abdul replied pushing his sunglasses firmly along the bridge of his nose. "Very nondescript person. The broadness of his shoulders and the lack of hips and breasts clarified that it was male, but other than that there were no real distinguishing features. Not thin, not thick, not short, not tall. Brown hair that was straight and not that long, the beginnings of a beard that could either have been allowed to grow out or shaved by this time, not overly full eyebrows, brown rounded eyes. The average man in every respect. Only thing that struck me as odd was his polo shirt."

"What about it?" Quatre questioned, his eyes staring without blinking at his retainer.

"He had the initials 'CD' embroidered upon it. Almost looked like it was a uniform shirt, actually."

"'CD?'" Trowa reiterated, lifting his chopsticks from the top of his cup and pulling the cover of his dinner back.

"Yeah. A grease-stained red shirt with 'CD' on the breast pocket. That was the best image I can recall having seen before he ran from us and dove into the drainage system of the hanger bay."

"The intruder escaped through the drainage system? Those have grated covers," Quatre pressed.

"The grate to the particular drain he chose had been removed. We'd been clearing a blockage from that duct the night before and were considering going back in to make certain it was completely removed."

"Damn," Trowa muttered even as he scooped the first of many mouthfuls of noodles from the confines of his cup and slurped them down.

"That certainly isn't much to go on," Quatre grumped. "'CD' could be a company logo, a person's initials, a designer brand; it could be anything, really."

"Now you understand our dilemma?" Abdul said, arching a brow and letting a quirky smirk take his lips.

"I understand," Quatre agreed with a nod. "And I also understand that this person had to have been observing our location for quite some time. Whoever it was managed to enter without detection, and also knew that the grating to part of the hangar bay drainage system which serviced the location Sandrock was stored in was removed."

"We were infiltrated is what you're suggesting?"

"Yes," Quatre simply replied with a nod. "Did you have anyone other than the Maguanac around our mobile suits?"

"Only those contractors sent by the Earth Sphere United Nation to begin regulating demilitarization."

Quatre and Trowa looked to one another before returning their combined concerned gazes to the soldier that accompanied them. "Go on," Trowa continued after a moment of silence.

"We're required by the new government to register our suits and weaponry with them so accountability for everything can be kept. Professional contractors approved by the United Nation are supposed to disassemble all mobile suits and all weapons of mass destruction to maintain that accountability. Basically they're afraid that if we disassembled our suits ourselves, we'd keep everything of worth that could be remanufactured into something destructive."

"So outsiders are surveying your suits?" Trowa questioned after slurping down another mouthful of noodles.

"We don't have a choice other than to let them do so."

"Who are all of these contractors?" Quatre hissed, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Abdul arched a brow. "You suspect it could have been one of them? They're all working under the approval of the United Nation."

"That doesn't mean a thing," Trowa said with a nod. "I agree with Quatre. Whichever companies had representatives present at your base are suspect. Which were they?"

Bowing his head, the soldier frowned. "I don't know. As the Earth Sphere United Nation contracted them, we didn't have knowledge of their separate companies if they were from differing companies at all, and we had no access to that information. They were simply presented as ESUN contractors there to appraise our weapons and their capabilities for future demilitarization and disassembly."

"And Sandrock?"

"We never informed anyone that your Gundam was there, Quatre-sama," Abdul quickly shot, his eyes betraying feelings of hurt. "We would never utter a word of its existence to anyone. We know how important your suit is to you," he finished.

Bowing his head, Quatre sighed. "I didn't mean to question you, Abdul. I simply meant to ensure that it was unrevealed through all of this."

"As you're aware, it was being maintained in a separate hanger from the rest. I'd thought that the Gundam's hanger was undetectable, but the fact that we'd an intruder proved me wrong."

Nodding once, Quatre glanced over at Trowa. "Back to square one with that one, neh?"

"Aa," the taller pilot agreed as he fished a corn kernel out of his cup.

"Thank you for all of your assistance, Abdul. I'm forever in your debt," Quatre said with a smile and a slight bow from his seat upon the bed.

A bright grin turned the bespectacled Arab's lips before he bowed in return to the blonde businessman. "No reason to thank me, Quatre-sama. Just glad to be of service. And worry no more about your Gundam. On my life, it will be kept safe."

As Abdul turned to leave, Trowa nodded at the retreating man's back. "Excellent ally you've got there, Quatre."

"I know. I'm lucky to have their loyalty, even if it hinders my ability to act independently ever again in my life," the blonde quietly giggled. "They're a great bunch – just a little overprotective."

"Overprotective? You need it right now, Quatre."

"Phah."

Trowa smirked slightly, shaking his head. 'Just as you need me right now, though you won't admit it. You're not getting rid of any of us. No matter what, this fool you love somehow is here with you.'

-- 20:31, 69 Days Ago --

Trowa ventured one glance at the young blonde woman behind him after he'd pulled the last of the Zero System DIO cards from the massive control center he was in. 'Truly a sad person,' he silently sympathized. 'I was like that once. Hopeless and alone, without a home to return to.'

'But this woman is strong. She will fare well enough.'

Turning away from the computer structure he'd finished disassembling, he swiftly made his way to the smaller pilot who sat braced against a wall, hand over the conspicuously bleeding wound piercing his side.

'I've more important people to worry about,' Trowa mentally muttered to himself even as he kneeled and offered the wounded boy a hand. "Can you stand up, Quatre?"

"Trowa," the blonde wheezed, his voice weak and tired. "You've got to do me a favor."

Trowa let a frown touch his lips even as he reached for the boy. They needed to escape, and soon. Whatever favor Quatre wished of him could certainly wait.

"Look after her and forget about me."

Mentally, Trowa scowled. 'Forget about you? Quatre, you damned fool….'

Outwardly, he simply lifted his wounded companion's arm and looped it across his shoulders behind his neck, hefting him as gently as he could to his feet. "Don't worry, Quatre," he softly reassured, "she's strong enough to take care of herself."

"Yeah, I guess so," Quatre quietly agreed.

As he helped his partner to the doorway, he took a moment to glance back at the woman who'd so injured Quatre, who's mental fortitude had been broken even as the boy hanging upon his side's lung had been pierced. 'By all rights, I should hate her. Part of me does. Quatre is worth a thousand times more than she is; his ability to love unconditionally and completely demonstrates that worth.'

'He proclaimed so long ago that he loves me.'

'I can't let the one person who loves me despite the lie I live die.'

As Quatre wheezed at his side, Trowa turned completely to face Dorothy Catalonia, watching as she took the floating helmet that had linked her to the Zero-System controller for the Mobile Doll system in her shaking hands. 'Of course, Quatre would have sensed something kind and good within you, too. Otherwise he wouldn't have asked me to do something so ridiculous as to abandon him for you. It would upset him if you were to die now.'

"You'd better hurry. Don't get yourself killed."

'Don't upset him. You've already injured his body – don't injure his heart as well.'

'If you do, I'll never forgive you.'

As he lead Quatre away from the room that had housed their dramatic encounter, Trowa turned his concerned gaze to the blonde's side. "You certain you'll be alright?" he ventured.

"Aa," Quatre's quiet voice muttered. "You didn't do as I asked. I know she's strong, but if she can't find that strength in time to escape, she'll die with this space station."

"I'm not here for her, Quatre."

Quatre blinked, staring at the taller pilot.

"I'm here for you."

-- 14:23, 186 Days Ago--

Trowa blinked as the plane began to roll away, taking his view of the blonde boy away from his eyes.

Blinking once more, Trowa felt an odd sensation upon his cheek.

Lifting a finger, he touched it then stared at his fingertip.

It glistened with wetness in the dim cabin lights.

Sighing, he wiped his eyes before returning his gaze to the outside world.

'You told me so many times, Quatre…'

'And I couldn't tell you.'

'I couldn't tell you that I love you.'

'Not even once…'

-- 22:52 --

'I swear to you. That's a mistake I never intend to make again. I will tell you, Quatre.'

'This time, I've shown you how I feel. I promise I'll tell you.'

"Something on your mind, Trowa?"

Startled clear out of his thought, Trowa blinked once before uttering, "No."

His mind wasn't on his words. It was on recollections from days past as his eyes remained focused on soft pink lips that smirked playfully at him.

-- 09:41, 4 Days Ago --

Rubbing his forehead, he leaned back, returning his focus to the television, trying to lose himself into the less perplexingly intrinsic complexities of the game that played on. 'I wish I had a few answers. I wish I knew what was going on.'

'I wish I could truly help you.'

The phone clicked onto its base behind him. Without turning Trowa asked, "They're going to get your phone?"

"Yeah," Quatre said quietly, crawling along the bed to sit beside him once again. Turning his gaze to Trowa's face he frowned slightly, his gesture washing his face in a blanket of concern. "I know nothing either. Please, stop troubling your mind about this. If we sit on our brains all day and simply try to figure all of this out without actively seeking information, we're going to be running in circles and coming up with naught but the conclusions we've already reached."

Arching a brow, Trowa glanced over. "How did you know…?"

A calm shrug moved Quatre's shoulders. "I just do. Now please, do relax. There's nothing we can do at this moment than play into their hands and see what move they'll make next."

Trowa narrowed his eyes.

"After all, even in the most perfectly played of games there must be sacrifices if one's to see what their opponent's strategizing."

As the boy's quietly spoken words registered in the emerald-eyed boy's mind, Trowa felt his lips turn with another frown. 'And just who is that sacrifice supposed to be, Quatre? Me?'

'Or is it you?'

'That won't be allowed. Not so long as I am here. Not so long as you're in my care.'

"Can't always be safe in this life, Trowa," Quatre softly said, closing his brilliant blue eyes. "After all, it's only for a sacrifice of pain and the betrayal of our deepest desires that we get a piece of the game. And only once we sacrifice ourselves can we ever hope to escape this board and fly from this horrible plot that envelops us all…."

Trowa snarled.

And, unable to take Quatre's soft proclamations that he would indeed be the sacrifice offered to those who hunted him for the simple prize of information and resolution, he did the only thing he could think to do to silence him.

The blonde froze, eyes wide, as Trowa took his lips with his own.

Many a long minute passed before they finally separated and Trowa brought himself to look into the smaller boy's eyes.

-- 22:54 --

Caught up in memories of the past, Trowa seated himself next to the blonde, tossing his emptied dinner cup into the nearby trashcan. Moments later, he rested his hand on Quatre's shoulder.

"Something is definitely on your mind," the blonde whispered, turning to face the brunette.

"…."

"Something you care to share?"

Bowing his head, Trowa sighed. 'I can't begin. Christ.'

He blinked rapidly.

Soft lips were pressed to his, engaging him in a light, yielding kiss.

Closing his eyes, Trowa breathed in that kiss, taking in the air passed into his waiting mouth by the blonde he cherished, hungrily pressing back into that gesture with eager desire even as his arms wrapped around his partner's thin frame. As pale arms encircled him in turn, Trowa pulled Quatre close, nearly easing the boy into his lap.

As they separated, Trowa gasping softly for breath, he stared at the blonde.

"I love you," Quatre whispered before returning his lips to Trowa's, lightly sealing his words with a press of mouth upon mouth.

Trowa licked lightly as those lips as Quatre pulled them away. Tightening his grip around the blonde, taking care as to not aggravate his wound, he pressed his cheek to Quatre's and let his sigh trace his warm breath along his partner's pale neck.

"I love you too."

"I want you."

Trowa nodded, his bangs brushing against Quatre's ear. "Take me."

-- 23:40 --

Trowa sighed happily, holding the blonde that he cradled in his arms with almost ridiculous care. Burying his chin in soft golden locks, he let a slight smile touch his lips.

He was quite sore.

But then again, Trowa had never been in a situation like that before. It was something he was entirely unfamiliar with.

It was a situation he would be glad to find himself in once again.

-- 22:57 --

Trowa lifted his arms obediently, letting Quatre lift his shirt away from his body. He shivered slightly as the warm fabric was stripped away, leaving his tanned flesh to be touched by the wispy chill fingers of the air breathed by the air vents situated throughout the hotel room. Moments later his thighs and calves were assaulted by that same touch as his pants were eased away, him worming away from the encasing fabric to assist his partner in his task of removing them. Next his socks hit the floor, leaving him in nothing but his war-beaten wristwatch and his boxers.

Fingers fumbling embarrassingly, the brunette tried to make quick work of the button and zipper that held Quatre's black slacks in place on his body. A soft laugh met his ears as slender pale fingers encased Trowa's broad hands, holding them steady. "Calm down. Patience is a virtue, you know."

Trowa took a deep breath, lifting his gaze and staring at the blonde's smiling eyes. 'Calm down? I'm this close to living my fantasy and you tell me to calm down?'

"Yes, I'm telling you to calm down," Quatre hotly breathed even as he lifted one of Trowa's hands to lightly kiss its back while unzipping his pants with the other. Gripping his partner's fingers, he slipped them easily into the gaping front of his slacks, a quiet moan of pleasure taking his lips. "Be calm and take pleasure in what you're doing."

"Aa," Trowa breathed softly, his eyes slowly closing as his hand caressed the warm front of silk boxers even as the fabric that encased them was shed by the blonde's free hand. As kiss after kiss laid itself upon the back of his left hand, he leaned forward, pressing his right more desperately into that warmth.

Quatre sucked lightly on his index finger, gently biting at its tip.

A hiss of breath escaped Trowa's lips as his eyes flew open, staring at the blonde. That slight nibble, that tiny suggestive action, had already hardened him.

Laughing quietly, Quatre slid Trowa's hand away from his crotch and laid the taller pilot's fingers upon the front of his own boxers. "Keep yourself occupied for a little while, will you?" he whispered, his voice hot and sultry, as he sauntered towards the bathroom, stopping at the refrigerator to grab something out of its depths first.

Trowa's boxers hit the floor in record time, and his hand swiftly hastened itself in getting to work.

'He managed to get me that excited with one simple gesture? God….'

Minutes later, Quatre returned, the bottle he'd snatched from the fridge in his hand and slicked with hot water from the shower. "So excited already, Trowa?" he playfully quipped as he shuffled back to the bed, sliding easily beside the boy and laying his hands upon the taller adolescent's shoulders.

Trowa groaned in pleasure as Quatre's lips met his again, leaning into that touch, trying to absorb more of his partner into himself with that contact. His hands hastily left his own excitement to grip his companion's waist, pulling him close, attempting to press their bodies completely together.

He didn't fight as those soft, surprisingly strong hands upon his shoulders pushed him back onto the bed.

Arms completely encircling the frame that nestled atop him, Trowa moaned into their continued kiss, lifting his hips slightly, pressing his excitement against the smaller boy's frame, belaying his urgency.

Quatre responded by breaking their kiss and slithering down his frame through the tunnel his arms created. Soft lips parted, letting a warm, wet tongue slip lightly down Trowa's hot skin, tasting a long trail down his chin, his neck, his chest. Platinum bangs brushing against hard pectoral muscles, Quatre tilted his head and neck to set his tongue to the task of licking a brown nipple, hushed puffs of breath teasing it with every pass even as his muscular organ tickled it erect. Once finished, the blonde turned his attention to the other, slithering atop his taller partner to reach his destination, and gently pinched it between his teeth, eliciting a hiss of pleasure and a squinting of emerald green eyes from his impromptu mattress.

Opening his eyes, Trowa stared as the blonde trailed kisses down his chest to his stomach, heading for that achingly engorged part of him that lusted for attention, his silky bangs leaving singing trails of tingling pleasure burning along his front as they swept through the wet trail left by lips and tongue.

Trowa cried out in pleasure as paired fingers tasked themselves to kneed his nipples, pulling and rubbing those darkened nubs into hardened points even as soft lips parted and surrounded just the head of his erection, the wet tongue held in the heated mouth behind those lips lightly prodding the rounded rod's hole. His hips rose, attempting to sink his length into that warm cavern, brushing against the back of his partner's throat, scraping along his perfect white teeth.

Quatre easily met his enthusiasm, taking one deep breath through his nostrils before sinking down along Trowa's length, easing it into his throat.

Lifting his shaking hands, Trowa sank his fingers into soft golden locks, trying desperately to hold onto that which felt too incredible to be real, that which was his ultimate fantasy. He hardly noticed as delicate fingers left his nipples, as warm palms slithered along his sides and rubbed his warm flesh. All that existed was Quatre's touch, Quatre's scent, Quatre's heat, Quatre's wet mouth surrounding his phallus, Quatre's tight throat gulping down his aching head as if trying to completely swallow the thick member.

His voice hitched as one hand slid under a pale chin to nuzzle his heavy testes, pressing lightly against his hot scrotum and tenderly rolling the contents of that pouch within their flesh pocket and against one another. One thin finger lightly pressed into the delicate flesh between his opening and his sack even as the rest of the hand tightened its hold. Gripping the hair in his grasp as tightly as he could, he verily screamed in ecstasy as he came.

Head falling back onto his pillow, Trowa stared blearily at the ceiling even as the blonde's throat worked mightily around the head of his manhood, sweeping his seed away forever. "God…" he softly whispered, his fingers becoming lax in their grip.

Quatre smiled faintly as he pulled away. "Hardly."

Trowa moaned again as the finger of the hand upon his testes that had prodded near his opening slowly slid its tip into his body.

It wasn't the first time he'd experienced this. It was simply the first time someone other than himself had invaded him.

Relaxing as well as he could, he let his eyes close once more even as he curled his fingers into his sheets while the blonde sank his digit into his hot recess.

"Turn over," Quatre's voice softly urged as he pulled his finger away.

Trowa immediately complied, his movements slow and tired but enthusiastic nonetheless.

Hitching himself onto his knees, hugging his pillow in his arms, Trowa spread his legs and sighed into his feathery cushion. 'This is what I've been wanting. What I've been lusting for since I first saw him in that bed….'

-- 23:21, 194 Days Ago --

Trowa listened with a satisfied smile as the doorknob clicked its confirmation that he had indeed succeeded in undoing the locking mechanism inside.

Carefully turning the knob, he slowly opened the door, keeping his moves precise and snail-paced to prevent the door from squeaking or creaking. Slipping in, he carefully shut it behind him, letting it fall back into place without a single click.

After entering the room, Trowa quickly slid against the wall, making his way into the open closet, ducking amongst the clothing to watch what was happening from the safety of obscurity.

His eyes nearly burned with rage as he watched the writhing mass under the blankets.

Suddenly, a dark-haired head burst free of the covers, gasping loudly as if for air before turning its steely gaze back upon whatever was below it. The head began to duck back down, lips pursed to deliver a kiss.

That kiss was never delivered.

Trowa lowered his SIG P229 Sport, his narrowed eyes shining with smug satisfaction as the larger form that carried the head he'd just shot with his .357 slug fell back onto the bed with a heavy thud, blood spraying from the perfect shot that ruptured the artery that fed the brain and soaking the pillows and covers that surrounded it.

Marching out of the closet, he approached the bed. Gripping the covers, he whipped them back and peered.

There was a small pale-skinned body lying below the other man.

That was completely nude.

-- 23:19 --

'I've been wanting this ever since I first saw that. I was so jealous….'

'I was wishing it was me instead of that bastard.'

Trowa groaned as the oily contents of the bottle the blonde had warmed in the shower's water were spread lightly around his entrance, his excitement rising as he tightened his grip on his pillow. "Quatre…."

"What?" Quatre quietly whispered as he eased the oiled tip of a finger back into the taller pilot, lubricating his innards for the next act in their first encounter.

"Please…" Trowa grunted.

"Hai," Quatre compliantly breathed.

The pillow barely muffled Trowa's cry as he was penetrated, Quatre's engorged manhood, dripping with the same oils that had been used to coat the brunette's inner recesses, plowing easily through the passage made slick by vegetable oil and patient play that encouraged relaxation and trust. Hips rocking back to meet the plummet of his partner, sinking his teeth into his pillow, the world bursting with color through his closed eyelids, Trowa's breath slid harshly from his nostrils and between his teeth with each grunted push.

Quatre gasped as he pushed into his partner, his own excitement betrayed by the pleasured moans that erupted from his thin throat. Sinking his fingers into the taller boy's waist, he pulled harshly at his pelvis, sinking himself completely into his companion with every stroke.

Riding their wave of pleasure, care for the intrinsic plots of the world and the dangers of the outdoors thrown to the wind, they cried in combined pleasure and love as they fell from grace in that dingy hotel room, as that moment changed their perspectives towards one another forever.

tbc...