How Do I Love Thee
Poem by: Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806-1861)
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
Trowa stood and watched the lone angelic young man upon the hill, bathed in sparkling moonlight, his white, loose linen pajamas almost glowing as they reflected moonbeams that seemed to pierce right through Trowa's heart.
Bare feet waded through neatly manicured grass, the blades slipping between toes to tickle soft pale flesh and Quatre giggled at the sensation, unaware of his audience, who stood enraptured at the scene.
"Even doing something as simple as walking through the grass, you make it beautiful." Trowa sighed slipping from the shadows to climb the hill. A dark green, terry cloth robe wrapped around him, a matching sky blue one in his hands.
Quatre turned when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and smiled as the figure approached. "Trowa? What are you doing up?" He asked as Trowa neared.
"I couldn't sleep, and I happened to see you out. Here, it's chilly tonight, you should put this on so you don't get cold." Trowa said passing the robe to Quatre.
Quatre's eyes began to sparkle like stars and his flashing smile, made even more brilliant, by the light dusting of rose that began to color his cheeks. "Thank you Trowa. But you shouldn't worry about me. I'm a big boy you know, I can take care of myself." Quatre said as he turned to slip his arms into the robe Trowa was holding up and open for him to step into.
Arms wrapped around him, closing the robe around slender shoulders and to hold the garment in place in lieu of the belt. Quatre sighed and sank into the warm embrace. "I know you're a big boy. Trust me, I noticed, repeatedly. I wouldn't feel this way over a child." Trowa said, his breath rushing past Quatre's ear, sending a shiver down the young blonde's spine.
"Why Trowa, if I didn't know any better, I'd swear you were trying to seduce me." Quatre sighed and Trowa smiled and planted a kiss, in just the right spot, behind Quatre's ear, that always made him as pliant as warm butter.
Quatre moaned. "Whatever gave you that idea mon petit?" Trowa purred, placing another kiss in the same spot behind the other ear.
"Oh god, don't talk French Trowa. Mmmmmm" Quatre weakly protested, melting to the earth like ice cream on a very hot day as Trowa slowly lowered them both to the grass, his kisses, soft and warm, on the cool flesh of Quatre's neck.
"I thought you liked it when I spoke the language of love." Trowa chuckled, moving to capture a supple earlobe in his teeth, suckling and making Quatre shiver violently in his arms.
Quatre was so easy to get turned on, Trowa almost felt guilty.
Almost.
"I. Do. but. oh God. Trowa you're evil.. Stop. someone will see us." Quatre tried again to end the torture of Trowa's affections.
He wasn't really trying very hard.
"No one will see us. This is your garden, we're out in the middle of nowhere, everyone else that could hope to see us, are all asleep. Now do you really want me to stop?" Trowa asked, moving to the other earlobe.
"No." Came the half moan, half whisper as Quatre sank slowly to his back to the soft earth, Trowa's body covering his own, eclipsing the moon above with his beauty. "No one should be as handsome as you. It should be illegal." Quatre said reaching up to push unruly bangs out of emerald eyes, darkened with desire.
"No one should make me feel the way you do Quatre. That should be illegal." Trowa said silencing the conversation as he captured pink lips in a hungry kiss.
"I love you." Trowa whispered as he began divesting Quatre of his pajama bottoms.
"I love you too, ohhhhhh" Quatre cried as his eyes rolled back when Trowa kissed him where only Trowa had ever kissed.
"Better than all the candy in the world." Trowa praised as he lavished attention on his gasping and panting lover. Quatre was far too easy to please, Trowa grinned briefly, before using his mouth to better advantage.
"Trowa! Stop teasing!" Quatre wailed. He was through being a human lollipop. He wanted more, and wanted more now.
He watched Trowa reach into his robes pocket, the bastard had come prepared, devious son of a bitch. Quatre thought then smiled. That was one of his favorite traits of his rather stoic lover. Always prepared, ever ready, infinitely flexible, in more ways than one, and just downright a pleasure for all senses, sight, sound, touch, taste, and feeling.
Especially that last one. "I love you Trowa, but hurry please!" Quatre whimpered wiggling provocatively underneath Trowa.
"Shhhh, in a minute Quatre. So impatient you are. You're gonna get it, never fear on that account." Trowa chuckled urging Quatre to roll up onto all fours.
"Oh YES!" Quatre moved quickly, he loved it when Trowa was feeling a bit animalistic.
Quatre was barely in position before he felt that welcome invasion thrust home, hard.
"YES! YES! YES! YES! YES!" Punctuated each thrust from both voices.
Quatre did like it a bit rough once in a while.
So did Trowa if truth be told, nothing sounded quite as nice or near taboo, as Quatre cried out "Harder!"
It was almost wicked, sinful, and Trowa happily complied. "Whatever you wish Mon Petit!"
"NOT THE FRENCH! OH GOD!" Quatre wailed. Losing control the moment Trowa assaulted him with language as well as his other attributes.
French was a real turn on for Quatre, and Trowa knew it, used it, and abused it.
Not that Quatre minded at all.
It was near dawn before either of them had recovered enough energy to stagger back toward the house to fall into bed.
"I love you Quatre, you know it's not just the sex. Right?" Trowa asked as he crawled in next to Quatre to wrap around the smaller young man.
"I know. And I love you too silly. I wouldn't LET you do the things you do to me if you didn't love me." Quatre said kissing the end of Trowa's nose. "Now must we go through this every time? I love when you do crazy things like seduce me in the middle of the night in the garden. Please don't worry." Quatre added and Trowa nodded, smiled and just pulled Quatre close.
"I can't help but worry, my whole world is you Quatre." Trowa said and Quatre smiled and nestled into the embrace.
"And the sun rises and sets because of you. How do I love thee? Let me count the ways." Quatre began, reciting the poem just before they both drifted to sleep, sharing in the joy of mutual love and devotion.
I make no apologies for the crap you just read. It's that way on purpose, and I did warn you after all, not my fault if you read it all the way through.
^_^
D