by Kay Zozma
The title is a term used in music notation that indicates "repeat from the beginning." Although this story was inspired by the "Sabintha Stories" version of what happened behind the scenes in the canon GW timeline, it is not a "Capture."
December AC 195, Peacemillion
The situation struck him as vaguely amusing, though no one else noticed his smile.
There was so little that he could lay claim to in life. He had a few weeks of memories, the clothes he was currently wearing, and just enough other belongings to fit into one dresser drawer in a circus trailer some thousands of kilometers away. Even the name he was using, Trowa Barton, was only borrowed, his own forgotten twice over.
If he could have asked for anything to call his own, it would have been a place at Quatre Winner's side. That was why he had left the circus, after all--he'd known somehow of Quatre's need for support in a battle. Quatre had triumphed alone anyway, but Trowa had been able to protect the Gundam pilot in the next fight he faced. And Quatre had been a friend to him in the days since then, as they met with more allies, more Gundam pilots and the crew of this impressive spaceship, Peacemillion, that was now their base of operations.
He wondered if Quatre really still needed him.
He stayed anyway, for if there was any chance that he could help the young rebel, he would try. Quatre had called to his heart, and Trowa's trust in his friend had quickly grown into love. Quatre was kind, and patient, and breathtakingly handsome. He also had a surprisingly wicked sense of humor. Trowa had wondered at first if he was just bedazzled by the legendary status of the Gundam pilots, but he felt no such attraction to Duo Maxwell upon meeting him, though Duo's fighting skills and determination equalled Quatre's and his Gundam was even more dramatic. Nor did Trowa feel instantly drawn--as he had been to Quatre--to Heero Yuy or Chang Wufei, who had arrived just hours ago with their own Gundams, to add to the firepower of the alliance that Quatre and Noin were gathering.
He would work with the other pilots to achieve their goals, but he didn't daydream of them, didn't picture them in his erotic fantasies. If Trowa had anything to offer, he'd give it to Quatre.
What Quatre offered him was a reason to fight, and a mobile suit seventeen meters tall.
Heero, Wufei, and their ally Major Po had brought three suits for two pilots. Quatre had suggested that Trowa go to Peacemillion's hangar bay and try the extra one. So while Quatre planned strategy on Peacemillion's bridge, Trowa sat in the cockpit, checking the third suit's controls and displays.
"Does it seem familiar?" asked Chang Wufei, standing on the open hatch next to Duo Maxwell.
"It's a mobile suit. In its current configuration it's not as maneuverable for zero-g as a Space Taurus, and the weapons systems are far more advanced, but I could fly it."
"But do you recognize this suit specifically?" asked Duo.
"No. I can tell it's another Gundam; is that what you mean?"
Duo swore. "I knew you were kind of fuzzy on your past, but this is Heavyarms! It's your own Gundam, Trowa!"
Wufei said, "This is a problem. We need a pilot for this Gundam."
Duo glared at him. "He'll still be the pilot."
"You truly think he can still handle it? Heavyarms requires a pilot who can act without any hesitation. None of the Gundams is an easy machine to handle even for someone at the top of his form." He scowled, and turned to Trowa. "Barton, your intentions to aid Winner prove your honor. Thus, even if you do not have the memories of a Gundam pilot, I still consider myself your friend. But friendship alone is not enough to make you a man I can trust at my back in a battle. Better for you and for us to keep you safely on Peacemillion if you can't keep up with the action."
Trowa acknowledged this analysis with only a steady glance, but Duo pressed his argument. "Even without his memories, he's better than anyone I've seen other than us and Zechs. I've watched what he can do over the last few days. Trust me, Chang, he can pilot Heavyarms."
"Winner clearly believes that, too." Wufei gave him a curt nod. "Very well; I'm convinced for the moment, at least."
Peacemillion's head tech, Howard, appeared behind Duo and Wufei. The aging man with the wild hair and brightly-colored shirts looked frivolous at first glance, but Trowa had seen how meticulous he was in directing his work crews. Howard announced, "Okay, boys, if you're done with your inspection, it's time for my team to start refitting this Gundam for space combat. We'll have it done in two days, or you get a complete refund!"
Trowa and the two Gundam pilots met Heero Yuy in the corridor leading from the hangar to the rest of Peacemillion. Wufei informed Heero of Trowa's lack of memories of the red Gundam.
Heero stared at Trowa intently; Trowa looked back, unsure of what reaction Heero expected from him. "You guys go update Quatre," Heero said. "Let me talk to Trowa for a minute."
"I want to talk about you and Quatre," Heero continued once the others had disappeared around a corner. "Has he told you anything about the incident when you were injured? Or about how well you knew each other before that?"
Trowa repeated the story that Quatre had told him--how Quatre had fallen under the influence of the ZERO System, and had destroyed Trowa's mobile suit when unable to distinguish between enemies and allies. "Duo said his own experience with ZERO was very similar, just shorter and less deadly. I believe that Quatre never meant to hurt me, and he's shown his friendship to me since we met at the circus."
Heero nodded. "Quatre's given you almost the whole story, then. And it seems that you remember some of the rest. I saw how you looked at him when we all met earlier today. Even if you've forgotten everything else, you're still in love with him, aren't you?"
"Still in love with him? I don't understand. Yes, I have feelings for Quatre, but I only met him twelve days ago. Are you saying I felt this way before, too?"
"Yes. The two of you were lovers; he was a virgin, and you'd experienced sex, but never love, before him."
"Wait just a minute--Quatre's never said anything about that! And why would you know so much about it?" It irked him that someone who hadn't been involved knew more about his former sex life than he did. And he couldn't let himself trust in the hope of Quatre's interest without knowing more about why Heero would tell him this.
"I heard your side of things while you tended me after I destroyed Wing--we spent a lot of days as I recovered with nothing better to do but exchange life stories. Quatre's version came out when he and I were in Sanq, during the time we thought you might be dead. You two were deeply attached to each other, in spite of the few opportunities you had to be together. I'm concerned that he hasn't told you about that. I thought he'd worked past his guilt issues over the ZERO incident, so it's strange that he's kept any information from you."
"Maybe he no longer feels the same way he used to. It's been months since we could have met before, and I've changed from the guy he knew then. I'm not that Gundam pilot anymore; I'm just a circus acrobat who can fly a Taurus."
"Talk to him. I saw how he looked at you earlier today, too. His feelings haven't changed, even if he hasn't said anything."
"I will talk to him. Thanks."
Heero nodded. "There's still time to act on your emotions before the battles begin again. We'll be facing many dangers yet before this war is over."
As Heero began walking toward the ship's command levels, Trowa followed silently, thinking about Quatre.
He didn't have a chance to talk alone with Quatre until much later in the day, but that gave him more time to think about how he felt and how to say so. He hadn't yet told Quatre of his feelings, not thinking that they were returned. Furthermore, he hadn't wanted to distract or upset Sandrock's pilot when he clearly had important issues to deal with regarding the war. But knowing now what he'd learned from Heero, Trowa wanted to hear what Quatre might say about their past relationship.
He met him at last outside Quatre's suite on Peacemillion's passenger deck, where the pilots had claimed rooms in a mostly unused part of the ship. Quatre was wearing his usual crisply ironed shirt, slacks and vest. The outfit made him look like a schoolboy, not a pilot and resistance leader, but such contradictions only made him more intriguing to Trowa.
"I'd like to talk with you," he said.
"I've been wanting to talk with you, too, Trowa. Come in and have a seat." Quatre waved him through the door, and gestured him toward a large armchair in the suite's sitting room. "Can I get you anything? Coffee, a snack?" He glanced toward the mini-kitchen set in one wall.
Trowa had just come from the dining hall, but he had noticed before that Quatre seemed happier once he felt himself to be a proper host. "A glass of water would be nice."
Quatre brought the water, and sat in a chair across from him. He spoke first as Trowa sipped politely. "I hope you know that it's all right if you don't want to continue fighting. I've greatly appreciated your help over the last few days, but it wouldn't be fair to expect you to continue in the battles to come, unless you're sure you want to risk so much for our cause. You don't have to stay committed to a mission that you don't remember taking on." He wore an expression of friendly concern.
"I know why I'm fighting, Quatre. I'll stick with you and the other Gundam pilots. It's my best chance to protect Cathy and other people like her. And I still want to help your cause, too."
Quatre smiled. "In that case, welcome to the team, again. Your skills will certainly be welcome, Trowa, and I'm glad to have you around."
"Thank you. I'm glad to be around you, too. Actually, that's why I came to talk with you." Quatre gave him a quizzical look. "Heero and I had a talk, and he told me some more about my past. Quatre, you've been honest with me about almost everything. Why didn't you tell me that you and I had been lovers?"
Quatre sat back abruptly. "He told you that? What was he thinking?"
He doesn't seem too happy that I know. I guess he really doesn't feel the same way about me anymore. Still, it was nice to have that hope for a few hours. To try to cover his disappointment, Trowa said, "I think he's concerned about your continued guilt from your actions under the ZERO System."
"Hm. I regret the consequences of my decision to use ZERO, but I'm not wasting any more time on blaming myself for them. Heero more than anyone has seen the evidence of that."
"So why didn't you tell me about you and...my old self? Help me understand. Have your feelings changed?"
Quatre looked down at his hands. "I don't know what's fair to tell you."
"Just...tell me the truth, Quatre. Don't try to make yourself responsible for how I'll feel about it. The only thing I can't handle is being kept in the dark any longer."
Quatre took a deep breath. "Okay. I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to feel obligated to continue a relationship that you might not want anymore, not under such different circumstances. What could I say, anyway? 'Hi, you have no idea who I am, but we've been having sex,' certainly wouldn't be fair to you. You have the right to act based on what your emotions are now, and not to be held to feelings you can't remember. It's fine with me to just go on as friends, Trowa. I'm happy to be near you in whatever way feels right to you."
"So what you feel now is...?"
"Not as important as how you feel."
Quatre's face seemed merely friendly, but nothing in what he'd said ruled out the other possibilities Trowa had hoped for. Trowa leaned forward in his chair. "And what if my emotions--as they are right now--are leading me to want more than friendship?"
"Trowa?"
"The only thing I've been able to think about all day, since Heero told me you and I had been lovers, is whether I could get you back. But I already wanted you before he said anything. The circumstances might be different this time, but they led to the same outcome. I don't know how long it took me before, but I've fallen in love with you in the few days I can remember knowing you. You didn't answer my other question, though. Have your feelings changed?"
"My feelings haven't changed, Trowa. I still love you. I missed you so much!" Quatre practically threw himself across the space between their chairs; Trowa barely had time to set his water glass out of the way before the pilot squeezed in beside him and hugged him.
"You still love me," Trowa echoed. He wanted so much to believe it, but he had to know for certain. "This me?"
"Everything about you that made me fall for you the first time is still there, Trowa. I love you just as you are. Believe it."
"You love me," Trowa said, the doubt gone from his voice and his mind. "You've been hiding it well. But how could you miss it in me? With what you've told me of your empathic skills, I thought you must know and just weren't interested."
"I was trying not to pry; I was so intent on giving you space to experience your own feelings that I didn't look for any signs of what you did feel," Quatre admitted. "Do you mind if I read your emotions now?"
He shook his head, standing up and holding out his hands to Quatre. "Not if I can ask you for a kiss."
Quatre let himself be pulled slowly to his feet, and leaned up to Trowa cautiously, as if afraid to startle him away. "You can ask me for anything."
Trowa bent his lips to Quatre's, elated but unsure just what to do. Quatre pressed into the kiss, then parted his lips slightly and flicked out his tongue. Trowa echoed the action, and soon was improvising more confidently. Quatre brought one hand up to reach around Trowa's shoulder, pulling their upper bodies together. This closer contact felt wonderful, and Trowa began to move his hands over Quatre's back and arms.
"Mmm," Quatre let out a soft, pleased sound, and Trowa was enchanted. He was the reason for Quatre's delight. He was the one Quatre wanted to be with. Quatre's reactions to his touches were even more exciting than the feeling of being touched himself.
Quatre pulled out of the kiss gently, and whispered into Trowa's ear. "I can feel your love for me, and it's beautiful, Trowa. I need you to know that I love you. I'm so glad that we found each other."
Trowa kissed him again, his hands exploring the feel of Quatre against him. Quatre looked so delicate, the hard lines of his wiry muscles might have been a surprise to touch--if Trowa hadn't already seen how easily he handled his powerful Gundam. They sank to the floor together, lying side by side, still kissing, still touching. As their hands roamed farther, Quatre brushed his hand lightly over Trowa's erection, and the intensity of this new sensation caused Trowa to freeze briefly in surprise. Quatre pulled his hand away, and paused, too.
"This is all new to you again," he said, leaning back from Trowa. "I should let you set the pace. That's what you did for me."
"The pace was fine," Trowa said, propping himself up on one elbow. "Heero said that I'd been your first. Was I? How was I?"
Quatre beamed. "Yes. You were marvelous, Trowa."
"I wish I could remember what that felt like."
Guilt flashed briefly over Quatre's face. "If I knew a way to give you your memories back, I'd do anything to help you."
"Quatre. Don't feel bad about the past. Just...would you help me make new memories?"
The anticipation in those brilliant eyes was irresistible, and Trowa asked again just to see more of that reaction. "Will you give me new memories of making love with you?"
Quatre embraced him and kissed him deeply. "Yes, my Trowa." And yet another kiss, slow and long, as Quatre's body stretched along his. Trowa held him closely, possessively.
When he slid a hand between them and began to unbutton Quatre's vest, Quatre pulled back with an apologetic smile. "I can't wait to be with you again, Trowa. But I want to make this as special for you as I can. Give me five minutes to get some things ready, all right?" Trowa assented, and Quatre slipped through the bedroom door and closed it softly behind him.
Trowa ducked into the suite's bathroom to do some primping. He combed his hair and used a bit of mint mouthwash. Remembering how his own suite had been fully stocked with hygienic aids when he moved in, he opened a high cabinet and located a box of supplies that were appropriate to the situation.
Though he couldn't remember having sex, he knew a bit about it. While he'd been living in Cathy's circus trailer, he'd found a thick, glossy brochure labeled, "Male/Male Pleasure: Basics and Beyond," in his room. Apparently he had acquired it during an earlier stay, and had been planning ahead for future encounters. The brochure was illustrated with rather clinical-looking line drawings of various actions, as well as photos of pairs of men in affectionate, though less explicit, poses. Noticing just how good the men looked together was the first time he'd had sexual thoughts that he could remember. He'd had a physical reaction to reading the brochure as well, and had been glad to be alone in the trailer at the time. After that, he had daydreamed often about how much he wanted to try those activities with someone. And since he had gained Quatre as a focus for his fantasies, his longing was even more intense.
He was waiting by the bedroom door when it opened, and displayed the lube he'd found. Quatre held some clothing folded under his arm. "Let me freshen up and change; I'll join you soon, okay?" he said after kissing Trowa once more.
"Could you leave on the clothes you've got?" Trowa asked him. "That's what I've seen you wear the most, and I've really wanted to take them off you." He unbuttoned Quatre's vest the rest of the way while running one hand through his soft, blond hair. Quatre nodded, eyes wide, and nudged Trowa toward the bedroom.
In just a few moments, he had transformed a standard space bunk into something of a love nest. The lights were dimmed, mellow music played, and the sheets were folded back in the bed alcove. Though the room was richly furnished, sleeping quarters on spaceships were always somewhat enclosed, for safety in the case of an artificial grav failure and the greater danger of a sudden return of gravity. The bed was set into the wall, boxed in above and on all sides but one. Safety grip bars ran across the top of the niche, forming the same arrangement as in Trowa's own bedroom on the ship. He'd been using the bars in his room each day for a limited gymnastics practice, working through moves and positions he'd used for circus performances. Trowa wondered what Quatre's reaction would be to find him posing on them. He might have only theoretical knowledge of most of the skills he'd need that night, but he was confident in his abilities as an acrobat.
Trowa just had time to arrange himself upside-down into a complex position before Quatre returned, padding in quietly on bare feet. The look on his face was quite rewarding, and even more so once Trowa had oh-so-slowly unfolded himself in one smooth twist, showing off his strength and flexibility to excellent advantage. There wasn't enough space to do a really flashy dismount, so Trowa settled for a quick tuck and flip that set him down at Quatre's side. He leaned down to whisper in the Gundam pilot's ear, "I'm all yours."
Quatre turned to meet his gaze, reached out a hand to stroke his face. "And I'm yours."
He tugged Quatre's vest off and started on the buttons of his shirt, tracing one hand down Quatre's chest as he bared it with the other hand. He was a bit relieved to see that Quatre was as hairless there as Trowa was himself--the models in his sex brochure had all been more hirsute, though they'd been older, too. Trowa abandoned that line of thought as he unbuckled Quatre's belt and unzipped his neatly tailored pants. He was slowed down for a moment as Quatre worked his turtleneck off his arms and over his head; then he returned to the crucial matter of baring Quatre's legs.
It proved easier for Trowa to peel off his own jeans as Quatre watched, the front of the blond's boxers demonstrating his excitement. When Trowa reached for the waistband of his own briefs, though, his hands were pushed away. Quatre knelt before him and pulled off his last covering. Trowa felt the fabric slide down his thighs, but then lost all track of it in comparison to a newer sensation--Quatre's agile tongue darting out to taste his cock.
When the acrobat nearly lost his balance in surprise, Quatre danced back from him and bent to remove his own boxers. He took his time straightening to his full height, then turned slowly to show off his lithe body. The room's low lights cast shadows over his form, giving emphasis to tantalizing contours. If Quatre's grin was a fair indication, he seemed pleased with the sight of Trowa, too.
"You're looking well-muscled," Quatre said, and ran the tip of his tongue along his bottom lip.
He shrugged a bit. "All the performances in the circus, and not much to do betweentimes but practice." Trowa felt he could stand there, drinking in the sight of Quatre, for hours. He still didn't remember having been in this situation before, but there was still something about Quatre that seemed so familiar, so right.
"And how do I look?" Quatre asked, though the sparkle in his eye suggested that he already knew the answer.
"You look...you look like a lover. You look like my fantasies." Looking wasn't enough anymore. He stepped up to Quatre and pulled him into his arms. His hands explored skin; his lips sought lips. Quatre stood on his toes, bringing them into even closer contact along chests and thighs, and canceling out their height difference; a shift of his hips pressed their eager cocks together.
When Quatre broke the kiss, his low, throaty whisper was right at Trowa's ear. "How do you want me? What do you want to try?"
He pitched his reply in what he hoped was his own sultry tone. "How many choices do I get?"
"We've got all night."
"What did I like best before?" he asked. "Top..." he scooped Quatre up in his arms and stood next to the bed with him, groping his ass not-quite-roughly and giving a quick bite to his collarbone.
"...or bottom?" He ducked into the bed alcove and let himself fall backward, twisting and tossing so that Quatre ended up above him as they landed on the mattress. Putting on a coy expression, he peered up through his bangs.
"I don't know what's fair to tell you." Quatre winked, smoothing Trowa's hair to the side. "Your tastes might be different now."
"Then we'll obviously have to try it both ways, and I'll compare. Since you already know what to do, you show me first. Show me what it's like to be touched inside."
"All right, but not just yet. There are a few other things I want to show you first."
Trowa found little cause for complaint in the delay, which continued his sensual education quite enjoyably. He learned that male nipples could indeed serve a purpose. He learned that the feathery touch of Quatre's bangs was ticklish over his thighs, but deliciously stimulating above his hips. He learned the effect of varying the rhythm of sliding hands. And he learned that the right look or murmur from Quatre could create nearly as great a physical reaction as any actual touch.
By the time Trowa had one leg bent up before him, Quatre licking the sensitive skin at the back of his knee, he couldn't stand to wait another minute. He repeated his request, and Quatre delayed no longer, simply groaning "Yes" and scrambling to retrieve the lube from the floor beside the bed.
Trowa lay on his back and urged Quatre to begin. Wanting a clear viewing angle, both to enjoy the sight of Quatre's preparations for itself and to gain knowledge for when he would take the lead later, he casually hooked his ankles behind his head. Quatre stammered out something semi-coherent about flexibility, and simply stared until Trowa reminded him to act.
Quatre's fingers were long, slender, and strong--the perfect combination for this important task. Trowa found his plan to watch every motion and memorize it to have a crucial flaw--he hadn't realized the sheer level of pleasure he'd feel at this stage of preparation, guessing that it would feel something like stretching any other muscle before exercise. But Quatre knew ways to make his nerve endings inside and out exult in the process, and he gave up on observing and let himself feel.
Just as Trowa began to think that Quatre's fingers would finish him off, Quatre ended his preparations and gestured for Trowa to wrap his legs around the Gundam pilot's hips. Slick and firm, he began to ease his way inside. He waited for Trowa to relax from the first feelings of discomfort, and then began moving in a flawless cadence.
The pleasure was intense, but it didn't build too quickly to keep Trowa from finding his own additions to the experience. He flexed muscles, lifted himself onto his elbows to change the angle between them, and uttered encouragements that made Quatre pause, or alter his pace, or answer in his own panting voice. He wanted never to stop. But then something changed, some extra touch or perfect phrase reaching just the right place in body or mind, and he knew that there would be an end, overwhelming and sweet, and he was so nearly there.
Quatre was there with him, and together they called out softly as sensation found its pinnacle. Quatre's last thrusts were deep and pure. As his climax faded, Trowa admired the beauty of his new lover with even more amazement than before.
Quatre simply smiled at him for a moment, stroking his hands, then dashed away to fetch warm, damp towels, to clean them both. "It's a bit of a nuisance to wash up so soon," he explained, "but it's easier done right away, and we'll be ready to start again later. Once we've rested a bit, though. I'm quite content to lie here for a while." Tossing the towels to the floor, Quatre lay close to snuggle. Trowa was still flushed and hot, but he happily accepted Quatre's warmth at his side, enjoying the new feeling of having Quatre embrace and hold him.
It was so comfortable, so comforting to just lie there together. Each stroked the other with light, lazy caresses. They found no need to speak; touches were all the eloquence they needed.
Trowa was on the verge of dozing off when he felt Quatre stirring and beginning to climb out of bed. "Quatre?"
"I'm going to start some new music; the last recording just ended."
"I'd rather listen to you--I heard you singing one day in the hangar. And didn't you tell me that you're a musician?"
Quatre settled down next to him again. "I'm better with the violin than with my voice, but I don't think there's enough room to play one in this bed, even if I had it here." He chuckled. "To say nothing of the problem of trying to fit a piano...all right." He lay his head on Trowa's chest and began to hum a simple tune, bright and cheerful. It seemed a bit at odds with Trowa's perceptions of the dashing, bold Gundam pilot, but he already realized that there were many sides to Quatre's personality. This was simply one that was new to his eyes--or ears.
As Trowa listened longer to the tune, he began to feel that something was missing from it. So he began to improvise additions in his head. Before he'd given it much thought, he was humming along in harmony. Quatre's eyes were closed, but his smile was undimmed for that, and he held Trowa closer as their skin cooled and the song continued.
They ended the notes at the same moment, and Quatre leaned up to kiss him before whispering, "Do you remember that tune?"
"Should I? I don't--it just seemed like the right part to add to yours."
"We played it together once; you had a flute, and I think you were improvising. But you repeated it almost exactly; I thought it might be a memory returning." There was a bit of sadness in Quatre's voice.
"I do want to remember, Quatre, but I don't. But I think...regardless, I think I just know how to fit with you. I hope I do, anyway. Then, even if I never remember, things are still okay between us, right?"
Quatre seemed reassured. "Things are better than okay between us, Trowa. And if it wasn't a memory, then it's simply more proof that you're still the same person I knew before, still the one I first fell in love with."
They moved into a new embrace, and soon youthful hormones had reasserted themselves. Once again, they began to explore each other. Trowa wondered how long it might take him to memorize every centimeter of the Gundam pilot's body. He wished desperately that they would have that much time together, and more.
Quatre seemed just as eager to continue to reacquaint himself with the acrobat. He left off licking Trowa's navel to say, "I'll pick out a new recording, and we can start our next experiment."
Trowa groped his thigh before he could leave the bed. "Okay. I wouldn't mind a repeat of the first one at all, though."
"The outcome was most gratifying, but I still think we should vary the inputs to our study. Of course, all the best scientific work relies on repeated testing, so we'll have to try it again this way, too." Quatre stood up and walked to the room's nearby control console, kneeling down to select a new program of music. It took him quite a while to make a decision, but Trowa liked the view too much to want to hurry him along. It occurred to him that Quatre was flaunting himself intentionally.
When Quatre had returned to stand before him, Trowa commented, "You'll need to get the lube, since you tossed it off the bed earlier." He pointed to the spot, just a step away, and Quatre bent over slowly to pick up the tube, facing away from Trowa to do it.
He sprang up, grasped Quatre by the hips, and pulled him back to sit atop his knees. Now that he had a lap full of Gundam pilot, what should he do with him? He began by nuzzling between Quatre's shoulders.
"Your hair feels good, Trowa. Mmm..."
"Finding it stimulating?" Trowa nudged Quatre's legs farther apart, and pulled him closer to rub his arousal between Quatre's buttocks. Quatre began to rock forward and back just slightly, stimulating Trowa in turn. He wrapped one arm around Quatre's chest, and let the other hand roam lower. "Quatre, does it...can we do it like this?"
"We haven't, but I think it works, in theory, anyway. You'll need some room to reach me better with your hands." Quatre dropped the tube he still held on the bed, then reached both hands up to the safety bar above their heads. He pulled himself up a bit to give Trowa access to his cleft. Trowa spread some lube on his fingers, and began to prepare Quatre to take him in. Quatre guided him with sounds of approval or discomfort--a few soft whimpers, but many more pleased sighs. Trowa was a bit nervous about doing this the right way to please Quatre, but that didn't quench his excitement. Quatre whispered, "Okay, ready." Trowa lubed his cock and guided it to his partner's entrance as Quatre slowly lowered himself.
He had anticipated some of what this would feel like, in his fantasies--the ring of exquisite pressure, the softer texture beyond that. But even while his fingers were sampling it, he hadn't imagined the full effect of Quatre's enveloping heat. The sheer wonder of the sensation seemed to complete an erotic circuit running between his brain and his groin, and thought, touch, and emotion flowed through him and merged into one. He let out a wordless groan as Quatre lifted up slightly and sank down onto him once more.
Quatre's movements set his nerves singing, but Trowa felt the urge to set their pace himself. In the position they'd started in, though, he couldn't control their movements as much as he wanted to. That was hardly fair; Quatre had been in charge last time. "Let go!" he said.
"It won't be much longer, but I'm not quite..."
Trowa had to laugh at that remark. "Not that kind of letting go; let loose of the safety bar!"
Quatre chuckled in reply, and strong, slender fingers released their grip. In an instant, Trowa twisted them both to lie on their sides, not letting their bodies separate. With this new position, he gained more freedom to move, to take control of their rhythm. He gripped Quatre firmly as he moved nearly out and even deeper in, powerfully, ecstatically.
Quatre let out a startled "Oh!" and began to tremble in his arms. Trowa froze for a moment.
"Is this all right?" he asked.
"Yeh-heh-hesss. Yes, yes, so good, Trowa!"
He began again--each stroke familiar, each movement new. Their earlier lovemaking had been perfect, but perfection dimmed next to the passion that enveloped him now. He slowed his thrusts at times but never ceased. He gently turned Quatre's face upward, then bent himself around him so their eyes could meet.
He couldn't remember being with him before that night, yet somehow he recognized the look Quatre gave him, the love that met his gaze. He did remember what it felt like to know that Quatre needed him, though now the need was not for protection, but for fulfillment. "Only you, love," Quatre murmured, and he knew it was true. He gave his own truth with lips and hands and body, claiming Quatre even as he gave himself to him.
When mere perfection had been long forgotten, they let go indeed, and passion coalesced and burst outward in a supernova of ecstasy. Quatre called out "Trowa!" and for the briefest moment he remembered that voice making his name his own. He might have been silent for his own part, or maybe he shouted everything he felt until the walls rang; he didn't know. It didn't matter.
He understood now what Quatre had lost, in losing him. Once the brilliance left them, and time meant something again, and sticky-sweaty-tired bodies disentangled themselves, he held him. With tenderness that he could recognize now, though still not remember, he held him, feeling love and loss and hope.
Quatre laughed quietly. "Well, you don't seem to have changed much in your desires after all. You obviously prefer the same position you liked best before."
"You seemed to like it that way, too," he teased back. "Or is that just an empathic reaction to what I enjoyed most?"
"Some of both," Quatre admitted. "Long before our first time together, I'd guessed what my physical preferences in sex would be, and I wasn't wrong. Then, since your urges complement mine, my empathy only adds to those feelings. I don't feel you only inside my body; I feel you in my soul."
Trowa felt honored and humbled and thrilled all at once, but "I love you, too," was all the response he could make. That seemed to say what he needed to express.
And just in time, too. The intercom buzzed. "Winner, this is Noin. We have a situation; I'm calling the Gundam pilots to the bridge. The other three are already on their way."
Quatre groaned and flipped a switch on the wall of the bed alcove. "Understood, Noin. I'll see you in seven minutes. Winner out." He whispered a quick "Sorry," to Trowa, and then leaped up and streaked to the bathroom.
Trowa was only seconds behind him, and joined him in the shower. Quatre started to say, "You don't need..."
"Yes, I do. From now on, you're not facing any battles without me. I'm part of the team, remember? And you said yourself that I'm the same person that you knew before. The way I see it, that makes me a Gundam pilot."
He drew Quatre close to him, kissing him once more before reaching for the soap. "Besides, now I have even more reason to fight at your side."