Archive of Our Own

“Is this really necessary?”

“/You/ were the one who had go off on a mission of revenge Quatre. You owe me this.”

“I apologized, /and/ you’re invited to the party.”

“Last time I checked I lived here. I’m one of the /hosts/ for the /damn/ party.”

“Can’t I just take you out to dinner?”

“We go out to dinner all the time. It wouldn’t mean anything.”

The hurt in Quatre’s voice was undeniable. “Going out dinner with me doesn’t mean anything to you?”

“That is /not/ what I said and you know it. Quit trying to change the subject.”

“I am not changing the subject, Trowa. You /said/ going out to dinner would not mean anything.”

“/Quatre./” Trowa’s voice was low and beginning to take on a dangerous edge. “You went into a potentially dangerous situation without letting anyone know what was going on or getting any back up. It was stupid and reckless and you know it. Now stop trying to play games with me. This is not something that a nice dinner and a bottle of wine is going to smooth over.”

“I’d suggest good sex but /that/probably wouldn’t mean anything to you either. Oh and by the way I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself and I would think that /you/ of all people would trust me to do so!”

“Of course I trust you and had I known what you were doing it would have been fine. But some times things happen that are outside of your control and then it would be a good thing if someone else was aware of what was going on so they could pull your ass out of the fire. God /damn/ it Quatre did it even occur to you how risky it is for you to be wandering around the slums of L2? What if you had been recognized? A mugging would have been the least of your problems!”

“No one knew who I was. I /told/ you that.”

“Told me yes but I want to see for myself. I need to know that you were safe for my own piece of mind.”

“And if I don’t want to?” Quatre’s voice had taken on a petulant edge that boded an unpleasant time for anyone foolish enough to stick around. “You should just take my word for it.”

“No, not on something this important. If the situation was reversed you would be doing the exact same thing and you know it. Stop being a brat and get out here.”

“I am /not/ being a brat.”

“Yes you are! You were wrong and you know it! Suck it up and take it like the man I know you are.”

The hallway was still as the angry words hung heavily in the air. A minute passed and then another, with no sign or sound of movement. Trowa’s hands fisted then relaxed as he attempted to glare a hole through the door. After five minutes his patience already strained since Quatre’s return, shattered.

“God damn it, Quatre, either get your ass out here or you can explain to Rashid why the fucking door is in pieces!”

There was a click and the aforementioned door flew open only to slam against the wall with a resounding thud. Quatre stepped forward to stand defiantly in front of his partner, his fists clenched with barely controlled anger. Trowa studied the man in front of him with dispassionate eyes. He took in the black hair that shimmered with electric blue highlights as Quatre moved, the way his bangs caressed his face and made his already light skin look paler than normal. He had to fight the urge to tangle his fingers in the inky strands to see if they still felt as silky soft as they looked.

The blazing blue eyes burning into his were outlined with black kohl so they appeared to slant upward at the outside edges. The effect made him look at least somewhat oriental and changed Quatre’s usual look of wide-eyed sincerity to give him a more cunning and sly edge. One that Trowa had to admit suited him well. In his ears were small gold hoops, three on one side and four on the other. A smile threatened to escape at the hidden message behind them. Quatre may be infuriating on occasion but where their relationship was concerned he was extremely sentimental.

He allowed his gaze to travel down Quatre’s pale throat to the neck of the black t-shirt he wore. Trowa noted how the shirt clung to Quatre’s chest and abs, outlining and defining them, the small nubs of his nipples standing out plainly through the stretchy material. He reined in the desire to capture them in his teeth and flick his tongue across the tips. Instead he continued his path downward to where the shirt ended, exposing just the barest tease of fair skin above the waistband of his pants. The silver chains that crossed his groin caught Trowa’s roving eye and held him, mesmerized by the way they lay like an invitation and warning in one. He noticed that Quatre was already getting hard from the contact friction and had to viciously suppress the urge to reach out and rub them up and down to bring him fully erect. He could hear the breathy moan that was sure to follow ringing in his ears.

Wrenching his gaze free he continued his appraisal. The soft leather of the pants encased Quatre’s legs in a second skin, showing off slender hips and strong thighs. The black riding boots were scuffed and worn looking and they conformed to his long legs as if they had been created to fit him. The silver buckles on them complimented the belt of silver chains.

Taking a mental step back, he took in the whole look. Somewhat mollified he nodded to himself. He would still recognize Quatre as would any of the other pilots but he doubted the average person would put the man in front of him together with Quatre Winner, CEO. Add in bad lighting, smoke and an abundance of alcohol and the odds were extremely low that anyone would have known who he was.

“Take off the coat.” Quatre shrugged out of the black trench coat that completed his outfit and let it drop to the floor, uncaring where or how it landed.

“Turn around. Slowly.” Trowa’s breath hitched as a tight ass in body hugging leather came into view and then disappeared. He noted when Quatre came back to stand in front of him his feet were planted in line with his shoulders so his legs were slightly apart, giving off an air of invitation and challenge. One fine eyebrow arched up to match the smirk that was beginning to form at the corners of his generous lips.

“Well?” he asked, his voice a purr, “do I pass inspection? He paused then added, “If you want to check my underwear you’re out of luck, I’m not wearing any.”

Trowa nodded, not trusting his voice. Pushing off from where he had been leaning against the wall he launched himself at Quatre, pinning him to the other side of the hallway. His hands landed on either side of the blond’s head, effectively caging him as his lips crashed down into a deep searing kiss. He rolled his hips, grinding their groins together, the feel of the metal links exciting him even more.

“Am I forgiven?” Quatre asked, his breath coming in small gasps when Trowa broke the kiss to attack his throat.

Trowa pulled back enough to be able to look his partner in the eye. “I am going to fuck you, hard, right here. Then I am going to take you to bed and make love to you, long and slow until you beg for mercy. Then you’ll be forgiven. If you ever do anything stupid like this again I promise I will tie you to the bed and spank you!”

“I thought you were trying to /dis/courage me.” The sound of Quatre’s smug laugh bounced off the walls followed by a low moan of pleasure as Trowa captured his lips once more.