A Bloodthirsty Angel:
Part Four - One Night
By: Kitty E.
Trowa emerged from the bathroom sometime later, wrapped tightly in his
bathrobe, and avoiding Quatre's gaze. Before he could turn to go to his room,
Quatre caught his hand. He inspected it for a moment, holding up each finger,
and silently comparing them to things unknown, then pressed his lips to the
palm. He tugged Trowa close, wanting to tell him his plans to go, wanting to
deny he'd ever agree to them. "Trowa..." he said softly, it was the only
thought he could manage. My Trowa.
Trowa shifted, allowing himself to be pulled into Quatre's arms, as the
blonde leaned back against the wall. He rested there a moment, running his
hands over Trowa's face, analyzing the intimate action. He sighed softly,
knowing he would miss such things. Through the course of their friendships
he'd come up with a million excuses to touch Trowa, be it under the guise of
an accident, or so carefully placed that it couldn't be misconstrued. Now
Trowa willingly held himself near, closed his eyes and allowed Quatre to
explore the full range of exposed skin. Their lips touched again, and Quatre
was pleased to discover Trowa's kiss still tasted like fire.
He let his hands drop, dragging his fingers down Trowa's neck, and
slipping them into the opening to his bathrobe. He felt Trowa shiver, and
pulled him close, slipping one leg between Trowa's, and wrapping one arm
firmly around his waist. He knew he was pushing it, but he couldn't stop
himself. He wanted, needed everything tonight, so he could leave with as few
regrets as possible. Trowa's breathing was becoming faster, and Quatre
wondered if he could keep sweep him away on a crest of pleasure before he had
time to think.
Trowa pulled away, turning his face slightly, and trying to catch his
breath. Quatre continued undaunted, nibbling carefully on his earlobe, making
a trail of wet kisses down Trowa's neck down to his collarbone. He didn't
press further, knowing Trowa was already in doubt. Instead, he moved to steal
another kiss, tongue delving into Trowa's open mouth before sealing their
lips together. With both hands he pulled Trowa forward, pressing their hips
together.
Trowa moaned softly, almost as though he didn't want Quatre to hear it.
Quatre's kisses wandered lower again, keeping the pressure on each of their
groins constant. Trowa broke away suddenly, and Quatre was delighted to see a
faint blush coloring the taller pilots cheeks. "Where are you going?" he
asked, surprised to find he was out of breath himself.
Trowa huffed slightly, "To get dressed."
"I don't see why," Quatre said, flashing a mischievous smile. He tugged
on the belt of Trowa's bathrobe, pulling him close again.
Trowa put his hands up, maintaining a small distance between them.
"Quatre, I don't think we should-"
Quatre nodded, "Hai, that's true. It's fast, I know, but Trowa, honestly,
how much time do we have? After the mission we may be separated again for god
knows how long. And my beautiful, fragile mortal, what's to guarantee that
you won't be injured, or... or even killed in this next mission? And I..." he
trailed off, wondering if he should even say it. "I don't know when I'll have
to leave the name Quatre Winner behind."
Trowa's brow furrowed, and Quatre used the momentary confusion to pull
Trowa tightly against him once more. "Look at me Trowa, I've the body a
fifteen year old boy... eternally," he said bitterly. "I can only play this
role for so long.
Trowa hesitated imperceptibly as he asked, "You're leaving?"
Quatre smiled faintly, "Not until it's absolutely necessary." He lifted
his head for a chaste kiss, "Don't worry, I wouldn't ever want to leave you
behind." Want, never, need to, hai. Oh god, Trowa, forgive me for this.
He left Trowa abruptly, stealing away all the pleasant sensations of warmth,
intimacy, and affection and leaving Trowa reluctant to stay without them.
Quatre held out his hand, and Trowa was almost helpless to refuse it.
Quatre pulled Trowa down the hallway, heading at first to his room, but
remembering the bags, and debris he'd left inside in enough time to
seamlessly change direction towards Trowa's bedroom instead. He felt Trowa
pause ever so slightly as he opened the door and stepped through. Once
inside, he set about dropping Trowa's inhibitions, using soft kisses, and
exploratory touches as if this were his first time, too. Before Trowa could
realize, or protest they were on the bed, and he was pulled onto Quatre's lap.
More kisses were given to distract him, the hands kneading his already
relaxed muscles made Trowa feel down right languid, sapping any will he had
to reject what was being offered to him. Quatre noticed it for he was held Trowa
so tightly he could feel his every movement, sense his every breath. He fell
back onto the bed, yanking hard enough that Trowa fell atop him. Trowa's
mouth opened, but whatever words he had to say were swallowed by Quatre's
hungry mouth. When Trowa had adjusted to this, Quatre rolled over, trapping
his uncertain lover between the bed and his own surprising strength.
He gently pinned his hands down until the unconscious fists Trowa had
clenched were relaxed, then laced their fingers together. This was
inordinately cruel, he knew that. This would be his greatest lie ever, a
promise of forever to be shattered the next morning. Either way, I leave
tomorrow, he thought as he set about exploring the furthest recesses of
Trowa's mouth. If I could just have this one thing... It's not just
passion, not just for pleasure... this is my one night to tell him everything
I feel.
He pulled away slightly, at last sensing no further resistance in Trowa's kiss,
nor in the suddenly supple body beneath his. He heard Trowa sigh softly,
almost to himself, and let go of his hands. Quatre lifted himself up on his
elbows slightly, going over each and every line of Trowa's face, memorizing
them to be treasured for as long as he could remember them. "You are so
beautiful," he said, a smug half-smile upon his lips. It's my beauty. I am
the first, I will always have this part of you.
Trowa looked away, "I'm not rea-" Quatre's finger pressed softly against
his lips silenced him.
Quatre lowered his head until his lips were next to Trowa's ear. "In all
my time on this Earth I've never seen anything like you. No mortal, vampire,
dream, or work of art has ever stolen my breath like you do." Quatre frowned
when Trowa shut his eyes tightly, "What is it?"
Trowa turned his face slightly towards him, emerald eyes once again
scrutinizing him carefully, "It's just... no one's ever said- anything like
that."
"Then you must have been surrounded by the blind," Quatre remarked,
placing a line of kisses down Trowa's neck, and smiled the other boy's
shivered response.
"Quatre..."
Quatre sat up slightly, tugging open Trowa's bathrobe, but only enough to
expose the muscled chest beneath the terrycloth. "That's not my real name,
you know. Merely one of a hundred I've taken," he slid his hands from Trowa's
shoulders down to his navel, lingering there, but not venturing any further
just yet. "But when you say it sounds like my god-given name, my only name so
long as it's spoken from your lips." He kissed said lips, pleased at the
eager kiss that met his.
He slid his mouth over Trowa's collarbone, grazing the skin with his
teeth, but not hard enough to pierce the skin. He felt Trowa hiss into his
hair, and made amends for his mistake, soothing the red lines he'd made with
his tongue. He blew across the moistened flesh, watching in delight as
goosebumps briefly formed. "I have to admit," he said softly as he moved his
kiss lower. "I haven't fed in days," he flicked his tongue across Trowa's
hardening nipple. "And I still remember how good you taste, I won't be able
to resist..." He obliged Trowa with a firmer touch, "a taste of you, of all
of you."
Trowa made no reply, and Quatre wondered if he had even heard. He
continued his teasing of one nipple, testing his control as he resisted the
urge to bite down. His hands moved downwards, sliding up Trowa's sides and
hips, before slipping between his thighs. The muscles beneath Quatre's palms
tensed slightly, but relaxed as he slid them up further. Trowa's legs opened
for him, for his touch, leaving himself almost completely exposed and
seemingly without reservation.
Quatre smiled, biting his lower lip reflexively as he undid the knot in
Trowa's belt. Both halves of the bathrobe were slipped away, and Quatre
stared, breathless, for a long moment. He kept his mouth away from the
blushing flesh, knowing he couldn't bite just yet and instead ran his hands
over it, over the body that was absolute perfection in his eyes.
Trowa's breathing became nothing but a series of gasps, and sighs as
Quatre's fingers wandered over his skin. At times it felt like Quatre's touch
went down into his very soul. Soft, cold hands moved over his chest, making
agonizingly light circles over his nipples, down his stomach, in teasingly low
sweeps, up his thighs with lightest touch, always avoiding the hardening
shaft, torturing, teasing, but not yet pleasuring. Trowa was clearly lost in
the reverie, not even opening his eyes when he heard, or rather felt,
Quatre's speak.
"I love you, Trowa. That's my only truth in this world. I don't know who
I am, or what I want from this life I can't even live properly, but I do love
you. That will never change, ever. My love will last for eternity." The
soft-spoken words seemed to extend out forever, across the Universe, into the
past, and out into the future.
"Say it again, beloved, say you love me again," he asked as he stripped
his own shirt away.
Emerald eyes were revealed to them, and they were frighteningly clear.
"Hai, Quatre, I love you. I've always loved you. I think I always will...
Just promise- promise me you'll" Soft lips were pressed against his,
silencing him.
"Everything," Quatre whispered, cringing at the lie. "Don't worry about
that, I promise you everything." Trowa's flat eyes were still upon him, and
he kissed, and stroked, and teased until they fell half lidded once more. He
shifted, placing his lips over Trowa's heart, and at last taking hold of his
erection. His touch was tentative at first, watching Trowa carefully, but his
slow, hard strokes were met with nothing other than a shuddering moan.
There'll be no turning back, no regrets... not tonight.
The sound of Trowa's voice calling his name, even a false name, had to be
the most wonderful sound he'd ever heared, and he kept his strokes slow to
prolong it. His own breathing was becoming ragged, twin desires of lust and
hunger overtaking him. Trowa seemed mindless enough, and he felt he could
risk just a taste. He closed his eyes, and opened his mouth, licking the
flesh beneath his lips, and then slowly dragging one fang over it. Trowa
grunted harshly, but Quatre simply sped his strokes of Trowa's aching shaft.
He lapped at the small wound he'd made, soothing it as best he could while
still feeding.
He felt Trowa arch beneath him, and reluctantly stopped drinking to focus
on the climax coming. Trowa panted, words beyond him as came into Quatre's
hand. He stared at the ceiling for a long moment, recovering his breath and
his senses, but Quatre wasted no time, shifting again this time to position
himself between Trowa's legs. His fingers were coated in Trowa's seed, enough
to suit his purpose.
"Trowa," he sighed, lifting Trowa's legs high enough to prepare his
lover. He found it was the only word he was capable of, whispering it over
and over again as he felt time slipping away from him. The morning inching
closer and closer, as he eased one digit inside his lover. He forced himself
to quell his hunger, refusing to make another mark on Trowa's flesh until he
was ready for it.
A second finger was slipped and Trowa finally seemed to decide he
disliked it, tensing up and making the process more difficult. "Iie, Trowa,
don't do that," Quatre chided softly. "Give yourself to me. You're the only
thing I've ever wanted, the only thing I've ever needed, just give yourself
over." It was still a long moment before Trowa adjusted to the second finger,
and Quatre began to worry that he might end up hurting Trowa.
He then smiled, and slipped in the third finger as he ran his tongue down the
length of Trowa's second, and softer erection. Trowa made a noise almost like
a hiccup, and Quatre almost laughed. He was tempting fate, daring himself to
bite down and spoil everything but he teased Trowa into full arousal with his
mouth. He put a fourth finger in for good measure, wanting what was to come
to be as sweet as possible for the both of them, and indulged himself in
another sample of his lover.
Quatre gave him a parting swipe with his tongue, and then moved to kiss
Trowa's inner thigh, rubbing his lips over the tense, sensitive skin. His
mouth opened for a mock bite, then suddenly sank both fangs in. Trowa shouted
one hand fisting in his hair, as his whole body went rigid. Quatre cooed his
apologizes, soothing the punctures with his tongue and breath, feeling
terrible for being so weak. When he had remedied the damage done with his
tasting. He licked his lips, and sat up.
He removed the rest of his clothing, watching Trowa watch him, and
feeling the opposite sides of his nature warring over which would be
sweetest, making love to Trowa, or the inevitable feeding he would take at
climax. By Allah, Trowa, your every feature... every piece of you is a
treasure.
He moved to lay over Trowa, kissing, and sucking at the swollen lips
beneath his until he was confident Trowa was ready. He hooked Trowa's legs
over his shoulders, and guided himself to the opening he'd prepared. He was
aware of Trowa's obvious discomfort but he was simply too far-gone to stop.
He pushed forward slowly, exhaling nothing but a rapid pant until he had
buried himself to the hilt. "Trowa," he breathed, and he began to thrust
forward.
Trowa's body was so tight beneath him, but still he couldn't stop. The
soft moans were now cries gritted out through clenched teeth but Quatre had
been waiting too long to care. He paced himself; once this was over he might
never experience such pleasure again. Slowly, Trowa adjusted, finding the
rhythm as rising to meet it, egged on by the friction of Quatre's stomach
rubbing over his erection. By the time Quatre found, and stroked over
repeatedly the glowing spot inside him he was already working towards
release.
Quatre closed his eyes tightly, and lost himself in sensation. He willed
the world to fall away from him, leaving him only with his lover, the outside
worries, and responsibilities became non-existent, for a fleeting moment. His
lips were on Trowa's neck already, but still he didn't feed, holding back
until Trowa himself reached climax.
Trowa's nails were unconsciously scratching down his back, head thrashing
back and forth, "Quatre, Quatre, my-ah, mine," he moaned, sensing something
well up inside filling every part of him, until his body suddenly released
it. Quatre shuddered as Trowa's body clamped down on him, and his mouth
opened, both to shout out his pleasure, and give over to his other nature.
Trowa was snapped back from the aftershocks of release but the now
familiar sensation of Quatre's small fangs pricking his skin, drinking from
him as quickly as he had the first time he'd bitten. Already weakened, and
exhausted, Trowa held on to consciousness a scant few moments, long enough to
embed his fingers in Quatre's hair. It was that touch that reminded Quatre to
pull away, to disengage from his lover, and grasp at control.
He stared at Trowa's sleeping form a long moment, the whispers, pants,
and moans of a moment before faded away into a perfect silence.
"Hai, Trowa," he said, combing his fingers through the ravished boy's
hair. "I'm yours. Your slave, your worshipper." He leaned over and kissed one
cheek, "No matter what I'm yours."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Trowa woke up with a tremendous headache, feeling sore in more places
than he cared to admit. The events of the previous night came to him slowly,
and he wondered vaguely if it was dream. A quick glance downwards proved they
were indeed memories of something real. He fingered the bandages over the cut
on his chest. "He'll kill me one day..." he said. The mention of Quatre
brought to his attention his absence. He hunted for his bathrobe briefly and
found it. He wrapped it around him tightly to fight the chill he was
beginning to feel throughout his whole body. Where is he? There's no place
to go here.
"Quatre," he called tentatively, he voice without emotion. It's
nothing, he must be here, he told himself when there was no answer. He
has to be, "Quatre?" he asked, slightly louder this time, there was still
no reply. "Quatre!" this time his voice broke. He slammed his fist against
the wall for lack of any other way to express the anguish he was feeling
right then. He wobbled, not having the energy to support himself, he simply
fell against the wall, sliding down till he was curled up on the floor.
"God, please no," he whispered. How could you do this to me? How could
you fucking do this to me, Quatre? You promised! You promised me everything,
and all I wanted was you.
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Part Five