by Jan
Author's notes: Something was said a while back, and the more I thought about it, the more it bugged me. Far too often 3x4 fics get a bad rap as being sappy. Not to say that sometimes they don't deserve it. There are some pretty sappy 3x4's out there. I got to thinking why 3x4 in general is considered to be a sappy type pairing. My personal take on it is as follows. I think that it is because Quatre doesn't have the intensive physical training that the other 4 have in one form or another. That, coupled with the fact that he is blond and of all the pilots, tends to be the most "innocent" looking. He is sensitive. He senses things, and he is the one that most easily identifies with his feelings. The final nail, of course, is the feeling that of all the pairings, 3x4 seemed to be the most supported by the series. Meaning it is the easiest to "justify" (if that sort of thing is important to you). I have other theories but I'm afraid they would get me stoned for heresy so I'll just leave it at that.
With all that percolating in my head, this sort of bubbled to the top. It was originally written for something else, but it said what I wanted to say. So with a little cleaning up and embellishing, here it is. Thanks to Shira who beta'd it when I first wrote this ... months ago.
It started out as an ordinary evening. We were in the living room. The channels flew by in a series of audibly disjointed erps and blps, Quatre's fingers working the remote to look for his favorite talking heads program. I wasn't particularly interested in the TV that night, so I curled up in the leather wing back with "From Then To Beyond" by Chancey Jack. (1)
The book was a page-turner for me. I can really get into old science fiction, written long before the ideas in the stories were realized in our technologically advanced age. It was very similar to the frontiers of the "wild west", where things were unknown and all they had to go on was speculation, theories and their imagination. And were completely wrong.
The incoherent sounds ceased. Quatre finally found the station he was looking for and sprawled out on the sofa. Things settled down comfortably.
As engrossing as the book was, the feeling of being watched teased the edges of my consciousness. A shiver raced down my spine. I reached up and closed the drapes behind my chair. My attention turned back to my reading, however, I couldn’t shake that feeling. I adjusted my glasses and shifted into another position in the chair, my feet tucked up under me. Still, the prickle on the back of my neck tickled with the sensation of being silently observed. Looking up, I caught sparkling blue eyes staring at me. My breath was stolen from my lungs for a moment, the air crackled as I fell into the depths of his eyes. He smiled, I smiled and the moment broken when he turned back to watch the TV.
The talking heads were a low drone in the background and I was able to keep the chatter to a dull wah-wah-ing. Occasionally Quatre would laugh at something one of the commentators said. His loud chuckles caused me to look up from my reading to watch him in his mirth. I couldn't help but smile.
The CEO of Winner Enterprises, on whose shoulders rested the large responsibility of keeping a corporation going, people employed and a colony running smoothly, was simply the most breathtaking man I've ever seen. His baby soft, blond hair fell in fine strands, accenting his pale, youthful face. Three years after the war he went through a growth spurt and his body filled out, losing the baby roundness of adolescence and harden into the muscled lines of adulthood. His crystal blue eyes still sparkled with flashes of mischief.
As I took inventory of that beautiful man, it slowly dawned on me Quatre was watching me as well. He gave me this look and I found myself once more drowning in his eyes. He licked his lips slowly and smiled again. It turned predatory. Blue eyes full and heated, promising … things…good things. It has never failed to drive me insane with need. Moving on automatic, I got up from my chair, hard as a damn rock made obvious by the tenting in my sweats. He spread his legs and invited me to lie down with him on the sofa. We both leaned back, him against the arm and I between his legs.
We settled into an easy silence once more and I went back to reading my book. Not long after, his hands started to wander. It was innocent at first, a soft stroke down my arm, fingering my Tshirt, a light kiss on the top of my head, combing his fingers through my hair, a whisper light stroke down my cheek.
Soon, his hands ventured more boldly with every pass over my body. He ran his hand under my Tshirt; a soft tweak to a nipple, light palming over my chest, a nibble on my neck, all instantly started me purring. These things combined in sensory input and my skin exploded in goosebumps.
His hands moved confidently over my body, fingering my abs, brushing lightly over the top of my sweats. Deft fingers dove below the waistband to brush my cock head, then back up and over my stomach again, tracing every curve of every muscle. He knew right where to touch to bring every nerve in my body alive. I was ready to burst and try as I did to turn over to face him, Quatre had maneuvered his legs over mine to keep me pinned facing up.
His warm breath wafted gently over my cheek and he started his litany, whispered low in my ear.
"Do you want me, Trowa? Do you want to feel my ass wrapped around your stiff cock? Tell me, baby. Do you want to fuck me harder than you've ever fucked anyone before?"
Talking to me like that reduces me to a raging animal, but with his legs and arms around me, I was effectively restrained against him. I suppose that I could have easily broken free, but that might have hurt him and somewhere in the back of my fogged brain, that was an overriding concern. Left helpless, he teased me without mercy.
"Do you, Trowa? You know what to do. Just tell me. Tell me you want to fuck me," he cooed in my ear.
My blood thundered in my ears. The world around me distilled down to where his hands touched my body. I was senseless. Croaking noises were the best I could manage, my voice fleeing me. Impotent struggling was met with laughter. I couldn't talk, my cock was throbbing, wanting only to fuck and he was holding me down.
He dipped into my sweats again and wrapped his hand around my cock, giving it a couple of strokes. He rocked against my back in time with his hand, his own erection digging into me. One hand stroked me, the other arm tight across my chest. Practiced fingers pulled at a nipple, teeth nibbled on my neck, a whisper in my ear. Tactile overload had me teetering precariously at the edge.
I had no choice but to give him what he wanted. No choice meaning, it just sort of came out before I could stop it. Suddenly my voice found itself and it was begging, pleading with him to please don't tease me and just do it, cursing him the entire time.
He laughed again, his voice low and husky, and he sped up his hand. Hips pressed into my back, friction began to warm my skin. With his mouth so close to my ear, I heard everything. His breath, his soft moans. His litany of how much he loves me, how much I turn him on, how hot I make him, how much he loves it when I take him hard and fast.
The increased heat source at my back, his harsh breathing in my ear, his hand tight on my cock excited me to no end and drove me over the precipice. My control came undone. I tried to be quiet. Tried being the operative word here. I don't know how successful I was, can't say I really cared either. And I came. Hard. It didn't seem to stop but just go on and on. My body jerked and pushed against him, my hips thrusting into his hand. He grunted and exhaled softly, his body stiffened and he pushed his hips hard upwards. I could feel his cock throbbing against my back. This caused another wave of spasms to wash over me.
We laid there a while, our breathing slowly evening out, his hand still inside my sweats. My mind picked its way through the minefield of my fogged brain while I tried to grasp what that was all about. Things like this seem to happen most often when he watches those shows...
I need to remember that channel.
Footnotes:
(1) No, neither this book nor this author exists. However, if you do ever see an author by that name on the NY Times Bestseller List, you'll know who it is. [grins]