Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, wish I did, just enjoy writing about 'em
for free etc
Category: Romance, abuse of food!
Warnings: Yaoi, lemon, PWP
Notes: It's an important night in Trowa's life. He thinks it's to do with
his career - his friends will explain that it's something rather more
Feedback: If you liked it, PLEASE let me know!
Written for MephistoWaltz's Threesome contest 2004.
of the Day
Trowa dragged the chairs out of the back room, and set them around the
last table. It was six o'clock, and he was due to open his new restaurant
in just over an hour. He was taking stock of the current status; and he
could feel depression settling around his heart.
He was short of five place settings, and the temporary waiter hadn't returned
from the crockery supplier; the flowers had obviously been forced to bloom
because they were already wilting; the delivery of prawns had been promised
since dawn today, but had never materialised; and the sous chef was currently
lying drunk in a gutter at the other end of town - or so his furious wife
had said, when she just rang through.
And this was gala opening night.
Trowa thought that he might weep. Or swear. Or both! And he wasn't the
kind of man to give in to either, in usual circumstances.
The phone rang, back in the office, and his whole body started. Someone
cancelling? Another crisis with the suppliers? Greenpeace, with the rallying
cry that they'd released the prawns back to the wild -?
God forbid it should be Quatre! he thought, rather resentfully. He'd barely
heard from his closest friend for several days.
And then he scolded himself, as well. Quatre would be working on the restaurant's
business plan, of course! He was a talented young venture capitalist -
he'd be talking to investment bankers, and extending that outrageous loan
just a few more months; he'd be trying to make Trowa's advance order book
look less like a black hole, and more like a herd of diners, champing
at the bit. He'd taken time away from his own busy life, to wheedle and
cajole, and nurse this project along - and he was doing it all to help
Trowa felt a familiar warmth at the thought of Quatre's care - even if
it was only for his bank balance.
Quatre wouldn't have time to call, and massage my
ego, would he? Trowa smiled to himself, a little ruefully. That was another
thing he rarely gave in to - personal gratification.
But Duo - where was he, then?
Master of Ceremonies, Purveyor of Publicity, as Duo styled himself, with
that infectious grin! Trowa had known that Duo was a miracle-worker in
Advertising and Promotion, but - obviously - there were situations that
demanded even more than that. And he doubted that even Duo Maxwell ranked
himself above God. His friend was a breath of fresh air, and always enthusiastic
- and he'd had great ideas for publicity and posters around town, and
leaflet drops, and celebrity guests. However, he'd been more than evasive
when Trowa had quizzed him about the advance bookings for tonight.
Trowa grimaced - he'd realised, early on, that his commercial flair was
lacking in many areas. But he should never have burdened his friends with
his problems - he knew that would soon strain the soundest of friendships.
He looked around the restaurant, and his heart sank.
Most of it looked good - the décor was based on warm harvest golds and
autumn copper colours. There were soft, laced curtains at the window,
giving a comfortable privacy from outside. The tables were covered in
crisply laundered cloth, and the lights were dimmed very gently, so that
long, slim shadows crept across the floor, building a pleasant ambience.
There were only about ten tables - and a modest bar at the edge of the
room. Glasses sparkled on the tables; thick napkins were folded artistically.
The flowers were -
Trowa sighed again, at the sight of the flowers. Wondered if he should
dash round each table and dead-head some of the more obviously limp blooms.
Wondered if there'd be anything left if he did.
And then the crash came from the kitchen, and the stream of cursing in
several languages, including English. There was the hiss of boiling liquid
spilling on something it shouldn't - the crack of crockery hitting a solid
floor, and the splinter and shattering noise that followed.
Trowa only had one soup tureen, which had cost an arm, a leg, and the
promise of internal organs; and because he had abandoned all hope of success
tonight, he knew without a doubt that it
was the victim.
He groaned, grabbing at the vestiges of his usually calm demeanour, and
turned to go back into the kitchen.
He suspected that the tureen wasn't going to be the only victim tonight.
The first door chime came at 6.45.
"What the hell -?" snapped Trowa. He was on his knees in the kitchen,
still mopping up pureed cauliflower from under the cooker. He was wondering
whether he had enough asparagus to double up on the starters; whether
he could do something creative with prosciutto. His vegetable chefs were
still squabbling over whose fuckin' clumsy fingers had dropped the fuckin'
soup thing in the first place, and a couple of the guys were brandishing
knives in a none-too-culinary manner. Meanwhile, one of the chocolate
tortes had been left too near the naked flames, and was gently dripping
down the side of the worksurface.
At the sound of the chime, Trowa was up on his feet in seconds, and out
through the swing door to the restaurant.
It rocked quietly behind him, with the chefs' swearing blasting in and
out of hearing as it did.
There was a single man, standing at the door to the outside world, and
just closing it behind him. He wore a smart shirt without tie, and perfectly
pressed linen pants. He held an expensive coat in his arms. A little distractedly,
he brushed soft, blond hair away from his face and smiled at Trowa's hurried
"Quatre!" Trowa gasped. Was he pleased to see his friend? Or disappointed
it wasn't a guest? Then he groaned to himself, because he knew now that
there was no way he was going to be ready for guests tonight! There were
three dishes off the already spartan menu; only half the staff he needed;
and he had a headache fit to burst his skull open.
What the hell had possessed him, to think he could be a restauranteur
and mine cheery host?
"Trowa!" came the warm greeting. Quatre's gaze lingered on the man in
front of him a little too long for mere politeness. There was friendship
there - and a flicker of excitement, too. And some puzzlement. "There's
something in your hair, Trowa, that looks like - cauliflower? Will that
be the uniform tonight?"
Trowa scowled, refusing to acknowledge the gentle joke. Why did Quatre
Winner always look so damned good?
Even in the days that they'd been students together, he always looked
well-dressed, and well-assured, and just damned cool!
His family had money, but he was scrupulous that he shared the same arrangements
as all his flatmates - he never pulled rank, never showed off, never took
the easy, moneyed route to life's successes. His academic achievements
had been all his own - his jobs pursued by his own efforts; his promotions
earned by damned hard work, and the glorious, charismatic talent that
Christ, thought Trowa to himself. Sounds like I've got some kinda crush
on the guy! How ridiculous is that?
"Tonight is off, Quatre!" he growled.
"Cancelled - aborted! Whatever you want to call it! This whole thing is
a fucking disaster! Bet you wish you'd never sunk any of your hard-earned
money into such a white elephant!"
Quatre looked alarmed; he placed his fine coat over the back of a nearby
chair with exaggerated care. He looked as if he were nervous of what to
say to an obviously distraught Trowa. "Trowa - sit down. Let's talk about
" - disaster -!"
He walked towards Trowa as if he were approaching a rabid beast with nothing
more than an up-ended chair. "Stay calm. It can't be that bad."
"- monumental catastrophe -!"
He reached Trowa - his friend's face was red with fury and frustration,
and the suspicion of tears. "Trowa, you're exhausted - you've been working
eighteen hour days for weeks now. You should have let me help you tonight
Trowa was disgusted with himself! With his weakness - with his shaking
hands. With the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach; the bitter taste
He looked down at Quatre's hand, as it rested on his arm, comfortingly.
He didn't do a lot of touching, himself - he thought it was too intimate;
too presumptuous. That wasn't to say that he didn't crave it, many times
- but he thought it fair that he didn't invite others to touch him, either.
But - by God - it felt good, the warmth of Quatre's hand; the gentle strength
that he knew ran throughout the man's body. And Quatre seemed more than
happy to hold him like that.
Trowa wondered what the hell he was thinking of, burdening his dearest
friend with such embarrassment.
Then the door chimed again, and another man entered, but with considerably
more noise and activity than the graceful Quatre. A tall man, in tight
jeans and a brightly coloured, close-fitting polo shirt. The end of a
long braid of chestnut-coloured hair swung round, and licked at the base
of his spine, as his leather jacket was slung across a table; a cheerful
greeting was shouted out.
"Cool, guys! You got the bubbles on ice? I've got a thirst the size of
the Kalahari, and after a day with the zombies that work in catering publications,
I've all but lost the will to live!"
"Duo, as well," groaned Trowa. "Duo's here, as well. I should have known
it." His vivacious, charming friend; the man whose astronomic marketing
career showed that he could sell ice to the Eskimos; the man who wore
thrift shop clothes like designer labels; the man whose laugh attracted
admiration and attention wherever he went.
Trowa wondered whether the cellar door might still be open, so that he
could sink through it without trace. He was a disaster, in the face of
his brilliantly successful friends. His humiliation was complete.
Trowa sat at one of his own tables, drinking a rather fine wine that he
didn't remember ordering for his
cellar, and hoping that Quatre would keep his arm round his shoulders
for just a little while longer.
And that was a true measure of his complete collapse, wasn't it?
Within seconds of Duo's arrival, the two friends had converged on him,
Duo assessing the situation even more quickly than Quatre. Trowa had been
swept to a chair, Quatre had reached for a bottle and glasses, and Duo
had vanished out into the kitchen. He'd rolled his sleeves up first. Trowa
wondered why, because Duo had never been much of a cook.
Quatre had watched the long chestnut braid whipping round behind his friend's
back, as he bounded across the room. Trowa had watched Quatre's eyes.
Now that Trowa thought about it, he was pretty sure that Duo and Quatre
had something going on between them. They were often out together - dammit,
they were often in together, whenever
Trowa called either of them! He wouldn't dream of asking anyone about
their personal life, but he'd often wondered if they were gay. Wondered
especially about Quatre.
For curiosity's sake, he thought. No other reason! It wasn't something
that they ever discussed, really. They'd shared a house, for a term or
so - they'd studied, and celebrated, and commiserated together. It had
been the best time of his life! The other guys had plenty of friends,
both boys and girls, though they never seemed to settle with any long-term
partners. Sometimes, these friends had stayed the night; but Trowa had
never pried about sleeping arrangements. In fact, he'd never dared to
ask any of them about their love life; and he had little enough news of
his own to offer in exchange. He didn't see that it was anyone's business
that he was gay himself. It's not like it was tattooed across his forehead!
He felt unaccountably depressed.
"Trowa, do you feel any better?" asked Quatre, quietly. He moved the vase
on the table to one side; a couple of petals fell off. His face was carefully
expressionless. "Nice flowers..."
Trowa laughed, shortly. Quatre's hand tightened on his shoulder, and it
really was a very pleasant feeling. He knew it couldn't last.
"Haven't you got some place to be, Quatre? Things will be fine here -
I'll put a notice on the door. I'll rethink the plan tomorrow - I'll look
for some different staff. Or perhaps I'll sub-let the whole damned place
to another guy who wants to try his luck, and ask for my job back at the
"Hush!" said Quatre, quite sharply. "You have a great talent with food,
Trowa - a vision; a skill that none of us has! But you can't be all things!
Maybe you can't run the whole damned show on your own - maybe you have
to allow others to get closer to you. So you let us help with a couple
of things, but only when we wheedle and insist. You won't acknowledge
that perhaps we want to be more than just investors in the project...!"
Trowa was shaking his head. He'd given up just as much control as he dared
- and he hated bothering other people. He suspected his friends were already
bored with his plans; they were only humouring him. He also wondered when
he'd ever heard Quatre sound angry with him, and realised that this was
probably the first time.
"We're here tonight to give you moral support, Trowa. Because we care
for you; because we want to share this venture with you, just like you've
shared and supported our careers,
and our choices! You've always
been there, always encouraging, not judgemental; pleased for our successes.
We want to do the same for you -"
Trowa was staring at him, with some amazement.
"- but you won't let us, for God's
sake!" came Quatre's over-loud voice.
"Moral support..." mumbled Trowa. He stared at Quatre's wide, blue, angry
eyes. He saw other things in there, besides the fury. He saw things that
he only dreamed about in his most hidden, private moments. He wondered
- not for the first time - what he might be capable of, if he ever let
those dreams loose.
Who he might offend; whose precious friendship he might lose as a result.
Duo was still in the kitchen - a sudden shout distracted them both. He
was yelling; they could hear the loud, strong tones of the voice that
they knew so well from the college sports field. Trowa supposed that he
must have been using an esoteric form of kitchen language, because after
some initial, angry response, the chefs and helpers had been awed into
a grudging silence. Duo was shouting about commitment, and efficiency
and hard work, and it was all accompanied by a mixture of other words
beginning with f* and b*. There were colourful references to dismissal
and disciplinary proceedings, and then something imaginatively phrased
about dismemberment, which - again - was accompanied by the f* words.
The kitchen door swung open and Duo emerged, beaming broadly.
"That's settled, then!" he announced. He absentmindedly moved a vase on
an adjoining table, and one of the flimsy stalks bent, and snapped. "Nice
flowers..." he murmured, and then looked back over at Trowa, the wide,
violet eyes sparkling with adrenalin and self-satisfaction. And a certain
amount of pleasure at seeing his friends together at the table.
"No worries, Trow, with the staff, anyway. They're keen to reconsider
their loyalties, y'know? Any food stuff we can salvage is now in the fridge,
and the pans are soaking in the sink. Then I sent 'em all home with the
threat of death, and the promise of a good bonus if they turn up on time,
same evening next month!" He grinned, confidently - Duo Maxwell didn't
do self-doubt of any kind.
Trowa rose to his feet, abruptly. The chair rocked behind him. "You've
done what?" he yelled. "Sent them
home? How dare you? What about the guests that may be arriving at any
Duo looked across at Quatre. "You didn't tell 'im?"
Quatre shrugged. "Did you? And
it seems like he's not in the mood to listen, Duo."
"Why am I bothering?" said Trowa, to no-one in particular. "It's only
my opening night. It's only the beginning - and the end - of my solo career.
Only the end of my life savings, and my credit rating, and my hopes for
something that I could achieve, and be proud of -"
"No, it's not," said Duo, sharply.
"Not your opening night."
Trowa just gaped at him. Quatre's arm pulled him firmly back down into
Duo sighed, and pulled up a chair on Trowa's other side.
"OK - so we should have said. I'll apologise up front, before you start
with that disappointed, disapproving look you've got down so well. We
didn't think the restaurant was gonna be ready for tonight - but we didn't
think you'd listen to us."
"Not ready..." muttered Trowa. The words sounded alien. "Not opening night
"I changed the date on the posters," said Duo, and grimaced. "Called the
press and postponed the advertising -"
"I reissued the invitations," sighed Quatre. He slipped a glance across
at Duo, who looked as disconcerted as he did himself. "Reworked the business
plan a couple of weeks. I didn't get time to tell the staff, but I was
going to let them go early tonight, after they'd rustled up something
just for us."
"Just for us..." Trowa still sounded stunned.
"We wanted to help you celebrate, Trowa - we wanted to be with you, but
just us." Quatre's voice sounded almost plaintive.
"Yeah," added Duo. He, in contrast, looked belligerent. "Before the hordes
arrive - before you become a celebrity chef, and have no time for your
"I don't appreciate that kind of humour, Duo," Trowa said. His face was
tight with pain. He stood up again, glaring down at his apparently cruel
"Shit!" snapped Duo. "It's not a joke!" His chair scraped back; he stood
as well, glaring back. "Why are you so damned self-sufficient, Trow? So
fucking clever and smug? Why don't
you let us into your life properly?"
Trowa's mouth fell open, in shock. Duo's eyes sparked with anger, and
something like fear. Quatre sighed.
"I'll open another bottle, shall I? I brought a dozen with me. Rather
glad I did, actually..."
They were all looking a little frayed round the edges. Duo was pouring
more wine; Quatre had gone looking for something to eat in the kitchen,
and returned with a plate of assorted delicacies.
Trowa thought he might get well and truly drunk.
"You're so damned difficult to discuss things with," growled Duo. "I tried
to tell you the plan was too tight - the timescale too ambitious. It's
not failure, Trow, to plan a project realistically, with time to develop."
"The money's still there," added Quatre. "Another couple of weeks, and
we can have all the supplies we need - we can interview additional staff
"Different staff!" muttered Duo.
He was the one who'd had to disarm the pastry chef.
"There are a couple of celebrities that are very keen to support the opening
- some friends of my family," Quatre continued. "There's a lot of interest
in you, Trowa - you've made a name for yourself with your newspaper articles
on food and catering - and those demonstration lectures you gave last
year at the university."
"Christ, the order book's full for the first three months already," grinned
Duo. His good humour was quickly being restored, in direct proportion
to the smoothness of the wine.
"No it's not!" gasped Trowa. "What do you mean? There are evenings when
I have little or no customers at all -"
"No, no," Duo rushed on. "I mean the real
order book - the one you asked me to keep! The one I've been promoting
my ass off about! Not that you listen to me - you're continually apologising,
and insisting it's too much of a bother, and I should get my ass back
to my proper job -"
"Shut up, Duo," said Quatre, cheerfully. "You see what our problem is,
Trowa? We've been trying to join in this project with you, and you've
been keeping us at bay! We care about this restaurant as much as you do
- we were thrilled to be asked to invest alongside you. We think we've
got a complement of skills between us that are second to none. It's going
to be a great success!"
"I - what -?"
"But not this month," sighed Duo. "More wine, anyone?"
Trowa had given up trying to understand - he'd just accepted that he didn't
have to worry about a dozen angry diners arriving some time tonight, an
eviscerated chef in the kitchen, and the bailiffs on the doorstep in the
He was also learning to accept Quatre's arms around him. The comforting
hand on his arm had gone; the friendly clutch around his shoulder had
been withdrawn; but in their place, was a firm and delicious hug that
no-one seemed to find unusual, except for him.
"When did you last eat, Trowa?"
"You look pale," said Quatre. "You've got another headache." He was very
close to Trowa; his chair seemed to have been pulled round. Obviously
he was examining Trowa's complexion from a medical point of view. It was
ridiculous - but it was rather heartening, too. Trowa couldn't remember
the last time anyone had really noticed how he looked; let alone commented
"You take too much on yourself," grunted Duo. He was toying with some
soft Italian bread - pulling it apart with his fingers, leaving sticky
traces of rosemary on his fingertips. "You're a pig-headed guy; won't
accept help. Won't accept friendship."
"Not easily, anyway," smiled Quatre. Trowa felt the breath of his comment
against his ear. Everything seemed rather exaggerated tonight. He supposed
he might be in shock.
"We like things that come easily, don't we, Quatre?" Duo was grinning.
He also seemed rather close to Trowa now. Trowa wondered about personal
space issues - but his friends had made enough of a point tonight about
his solitariness, that he didn't want to cause a fuss whenever they strayed
"Uh-huh," agreed the blond. "Those are the things that we like, indeed."
His eyes sparkled. "And we'd like to share them with you, Trowa."
"Share what?" asked Trowa, rather rudely. He had a mouthful of the wine
at the time.
Quatre's arms tightened gently around him. It also felt as if Duo had
rested a hand at the back of his neck; an unusual place to comfort a friend.
Even one facing bankruptcy.
"Got an investment to protect, eh, Quatre?" came the braided man's voice,
laced with amusement. Trowa could smell his warm, spicy cologne. Duo always
smelt good - he exuded hot, sexy strength. Trowa couldn't think for a
minute where that thought had
It must be the wine; he must be more drunk than he thought...
"I don't need protection," he said. His voice sounded rather weak, though.
Quatre just smiled. "Sure, Trowa. Let's eat, though, shall we?"
Trowa was about to protest that there were no staff - that the soup was
ruined - that the whole evening had collapsed into disaster and amazement
around him -
But his friends ignored him.
"What do we have to tempt us?" murmured Quatre. He ran his eyes over the
foods on the plate that he'd brought from the kitchen. Duo was watching
him; a lazy smile crept over his face. He leant across Trowa, and his
long, slim fingers picked up a spear of asparagus, poached gently in butter.
A drop of the warm, pale yellow coating dropped back into the dish with
Trowa wriggled on his seat; he felt awkward, suddenly. Their bodies were
both pressed against him; he could feel the combined heartbeats.
Duo held the asparagus up towards Quatre, as if it were beckoning him.
Their eyes met. They both smiled. Duo reached further forward, the food
teased at Quatre's mouth.
"Mmm..." said Quatre, in a voice that purred. "My favourite."
Trowa watched the slim, green slice of food slide into Quatre's mouth.
He didn't seem to be able to tear his eyes away; Quatre was the only thing
he could focus on. The handsome blond man's lips were round and moist
around the asparagus; he sucked gently, and the tip slipped in quickly.
It was a very messy food item; a generous dribble of melted butter ran
down on to his chin.
Trowa couldn't help himself - he reached up a hand to wipe it off.
Quatre's skin was soft and warm - Trowa removed his fingers rather reluctantly.
The small part of his mind that was still sane was appalled at how familiar
But Quatre didn't seem to mind. His soft sigh was one of pleasure. He
caught at Trowa's retreating hand, the fingers damp and glistening with
the greasy traces of butter. "It's good," he moaned. "You're a brilliant
chef, Trowa - you produce the most perfect tastes. I want more!" He gently
twisted Trowa's unresisting wrist, and brought the fingers back to his
lips; then, lasciviously, he started to lick between the digits, lapping
up the warm globules of melted butter that remained there.
Trowa's eyes widened with shock, and his mouth opened to protest. No words
came out. The caressing tongue was rough like a cat's; yet smooth like
pure, slick muscle. He couldn't believe how exciting it was! His head
swam. Quatre smiled, and moved closer to him, and suddenly his breath
was hot and gentle against Trowa's cheek. "You should taste it yourself,
Trowa," he murmured.
Trowa watched Quatre's soft, nimble fingers wipe the residue from the
corners of his perfect mouth, and then those dampened fingertips were
reaching for his mouth, and they
were pressing firmly in, and his lips were closing around them, instinctively;
"Suck them, Trow," murmured Quatre. "I want to see you suck them in..."
Trowa was shocked into silence and surrender - the sensations running
through his body were something he'd never known before. Christ, he'd
never even imagined that a touch
could be so erotic! Quatre's fingers were inside his mouth, teasing at
the roof, stroking at his tongue; he tugged down Trowa's lower lip, mischievously.
And all the while, he was watching Trowa's mouth, gazing at his throat,
as the chestnut-haired man suckled on the slender digits; as he licked
the last droplets of butter into his mouth, and swallowed.
"Trowa..." sighed Quatre, rolling the words around in the back of his
throat, like he was savouring some of the very fine wine. "You are magnificent..."
His expression had turned from fascination to greed. He licked quickly
at his own lips; at lips that were swollen with something primal, and
wet with the remainder of the asparagus.
Trowa gazed back at Quatre's lips. They both seemed fascinated beyond
reason by each other's mouth. It'd be laughable, if it weren't so thrilling,
thought Trowa. The issue here seemed to be something very much more than
spilt butter. The uncomfortable sensation in his lap was beginning to
hurt. What the hell was going on?
Not that he ever wanted it to stop.
"I want to kiss you, Trowa," whispered Quatre. "Oh God, yes... Please
let me. Please - let me -" His fingers slipped out of Trowa's astonished,
pursed mouth, and his lips pressed down there instead. They were still
moist with butter, and warm with desire. Trowa shuddered with delight;
his skin rippled with sensation. Quatre tasted of asparagus, and wine,
and just about everything bright and gorgeous, that was the man himself.
Trowa wondered if he were on some other planet, watching some other Trowa
Barton, living some other - better
Quatre's head dipped to the side, to settle in against Trowa's neck; to
fit so comfortably against him that he might have been made for it. His
tongue probed gently at Trowa's lips; nudged at his teeth. It wanted entry.
Trowa opened his lips, and accepted his dear friend's eager kiss, in all
its sensual entirety. The pressure on his mouth was amazing - the probing
tongue was thick and bold inside the dark, private cavern of his mouth.
His nerves shivered all the way to his toes.
It was the most exciting, most delicious thing he'd ever tasted! He thought
he'd probably just died and gone to heaven.
When Quatre's arm came around his neck, pulling him in even closer, and
caressing his bared throat, he gave himself up to it.
After all, heaven wasn't for real, was it?
It was about this time that Trowa thought Quatre had grown another pair
of hands. But then he realised that he was being stupid - they were Duo's
hands, of course! Duo's hands, that were sliding up under his untucked,
crumpled shirt, and gently massaging the tense muscles of his back.
What the hell -?
It was as if the daydream suddenly shattered.
Trowa jerked back in shock, his lips springing away from Quatre's, leaving
the blond man still leaning forward, but ghosting fruitlessly for the
mouth he'd been devouring. His face was flushed; his hands still trailed
against Trowa's body, where he'd been holding on to him.
Trowa's shout was rather hoarse. "Duo! What are you doing?"
Duo growled, but the sound was sensual, rather than angry. "Just relaxing
you, Trow. Don't leap about so much! Dammit, I'm as good as a professional
at this, y'know..."
Trowa's head darted back to look at the blond man in front of him, stretched
towards him, his mouth almost panting at the loss of its prey. Then he
shot a similar look at the braided man now nestled up close to his back,
rubbing his warm, strong hands on Trowa's naked flesh...
What did he think he was doing,
for God's sake?
"Stop it!" he cried. "Dammit, I - I'm sorry, I didn't think - oh no
Quatre's eyes opened; Duo's hands stilled.
"Forgive me, Quatre!" Trowa was aghast. "I - don't know what got into
"But - I asked to kiss you
-" murmured Quatre, an eyebrow raised in surprise. He lifted a finger
to his petulant lips; rubbed at the tingling flesh there.
Trowa ignored him. "And Duo - God, I never meant for you to have to touch
me like this - I don't need - I mean - you and Quatre - good friends -
too good friends -"
"What's he going on about?" asked Duo, looking at Quatre over Trowa's
"Hush, Trowa," murmured Quatre. "Don't worry." His pupils were still slightly
dilated with excitement. "Kiss me again." He leant forwards again and,
to his horror, Trowa felt himself leaning back to meet him.
"Doesn't he like it?" asked Duo, of no-one in particular. He sounded amazed.
"We were sure he would!"
Quatre flickered out his rough/smooth tongue, and licked at the edge of
Trowa's mouth. "What's the next course, Duo? He tastes so good..."
"No!" shouted Trowa, totally mortified. Now they both sprang back, and
away from him. Trowa felt the rush of air as Quatre whipped his head away;
he felt the sudden chill on his back as Duo's hands withdrew.
"This has gone far enough!" he gasped. "I don't know what kind of joke
this is - or perhaps the two of you have some misguided idea of cheering
me up! But you'd just better get back to your own domestic bliss, and
leave me to sort this whole mess out -"
"Domestic bliss?" said Duo, a look of puzzlement on his face.
"Trowa - it's not what you think," said Quatre. Then he seemed to realise
quite how hackneyed that phrase was - his face scrunched with frustration.
"I - but you two are together, aren't you?" said Trowa, despairingly.
He did not want to add to the total embarrassment of this whole evening!
But what was he to do? "I won't let myself come between you - I won't
be the cause of any trouble! I don't need any pity!"
Duo stared at him, like he spoke a foreign language. Quatre looked very
"I'm so sorry, Trowa," he said, very quietly. He sounded abashed. "I never
thought that you wouldn't welcome me - that you wouldn't want me -"
Trowa stared back, stunned. Every thrill in every nerve-ridden inch of
his body denied that statement! "Oh no -" he faltered. "That's not the
point at all! I - you - you're -"
"See?" crowed Duo. "Oh, Trowa, you are the best! If you could but see
the adorable flush on your cheeks when you look at sexy blondie here..."
He dragged his chair back up close to Trowa - his hand came back around
his shoulders, and Trowa didn't feel strong enough this time to shuck
him off. "Perhaps this is something else
I needed to explain, and never got round to! I guess we are together,
as you say - Quat and I share many of the same interests; we spend most
of our leisure time together. And we have a lot of fun -" a smirk crept
over his face. "Both in and out of bed! We don't advertise the fact, Trowa
- we just enjoy what suits us both; what makes us both happy." He and
the blond shared glances - shared satisfied smiles. "But that doesn't
mean we don't both want you, too."
Trowa's mouth dropped open. Duo's hand was tight on his shoulder, with
the confidence of a firm masseur; the flesh of his palm was warm, and
- Trowa despaired of ever thinking sanely again - it was all very sensual.
"Is that a problem, Trow?" Duo murmured in his ear. "Quat and I are together
in many ways - but we're not exclusive. We'd like to share a lot more
of our life with you - we've always needed you with us. You bring out
the best in us, y'know? We've waited a long time, until you found what
you wanted to do with your life; until you felt more secure with us. But
we've always wanted you. You're
a treasured friend to us - and you're also damned sexy! Could you consider
that? Being with us?"
Quatre was at his other side - his lips were at his other ear. "It's very
important to me, Trowa. Duo and I have a gorgeous time - but it's you
I want to care for."
Trowa turned to stare into the big, blue eyes. He saw concern there -
he saw a breathless anticipation; he saw desire. He saw his own surrender
in the reflection; the admission of his own need and attraction.
"To care for me? For me?"
It was Quatre's turn to flush. "Too sappy for you, Trow? You've never
liked being too obvious, have you? But you must know how much I like you
- how much I respect your friendship. And it's a lot more, besides - though
you've never given me the opportunity to tell you so. I want you, Trowa.
You're special to me..."
Trowa could barely speak - everything was too much of a shock. But when
the lips came back towards him, tentative now, but as rich and tasty as
before, he opened his mouth gladly, and returned Quatre's passionate kiss.
He knew for certain that he was
in heaven, now!
Trowa knew that his head swam with Quatre's kisses; with the touch of
the firm lips on his mouth; on his neck, at his throat. He knew that he'd
wanted this for a very long time; but that he'd never allowed it to be
a possibility beyond his hot, wet, secret dreams. But now Quatre was moaning
his name; Quatre had admitted he wanted him; Quatre
was sane, and yet this was still happening, here in his very own restaurant!
He had only that swimming head to blame, for his total loss of control
over what was happening. And his sinking - delightedly - into the sensations
that assaulted him.
His chair was being shifted - it was being moved out from under the table,
so that both of the other men could get closer to him.
Even as he felt Quatre's soft, smiling lips on the thin, sensitive skin
at the base of his throat, he felt fingers at the buttons of his loose
shirt, and the fabric being eased off his shoulders, baring his torso.
He didn't think they were Quatre's fingers - Quatre's fingers were tangled
in his hair; and they certainly weren't his own fingers, because they
were tangling back into Quatre's fine blond hair, and caressing the smooth,
He gasped; he arched back in his chair. The hands - which were so obviously
Duo's, for they were firm and assertive, like the man himself - ran smoothly
across his shoulders, and pressed down over his upper arms. Trowa allowed
himself to be distracted, just for the time it took to appreciate the
warm, slightly sweaty palms on his skin; to smell the sharp, sandalwood
fragrance of Duo's body; to feel the soft caress of his thick, chestnut
hair, as the braid swung over his shoulder, and brushed at his exposed
Trowa knew in his mind that Duo was a good friend; he knew that he was
a damned attractive man; he knew that if anyone knew about sensuality,
it would be Duo. His body agreed - and his body asked for a damned sight
more. His body cried out for the touch of that man's hands, all over him.
Trowa had never realised how much he craved it!
"You're so tasty, Trowa," came Duo's throaty murmur. There was an undercurrent
of amusement - a thread of pure, sensual pleasure. His fingertips trailed
over Trowa's flesh, as he drew away again.
Quatre had also moved away - Trowa felt the loss of his soft mouth most
keenly. But then he saw the slim man slide to his knees in front of him,
and put his hands on Trowa's thighs, nudging his legs apart.
"Trowa..." murmured Quatre. His voice was like a melody - it rippled through
the air around Trowa's strained nerves, and stroked him. "Let me taste
Trowa realised what he meant, just as the blond man's gentle hand cupped
his swelling arousal. He felt his hips jerk up towards the touch, his
skin prickling inside the remainder of his clothing - he felt a warm,
sweat-damp feeling around his groin. He wondered for a horrified moment
if his excitement was going to leak through the thin material of his pants!
He shuddered in his seat; he hiccupped, for he was beyond sensible words.
Quatre was talking about something he'd barely even dreamed
of; and Quatre's voice held a thread of barely suppressed enthusiasm for
the whole thing. For him!
Duo was back at his side. His shirt had also gone - Trowa hadn't seen
him take it off, had he? His lips were moist with something dark and slightly
"I love olives," he smiled, chewing one gently between his teeth. Trowa
realised he'd been to find more food; Duo had never been one to inhibit
his appetites! "And ravishment does give me the most ravenous appetite!
How are you, Trowa? How are you coping? I think we've given you too many
surprises tonight, and for that I'm sorry..."
Trowa wondered how Duo thought he could reply. His mouth was drier than
he'd ever known it. His breath was held tightly in his chest, as Quatre's
slim, elegant fingers lowered the zip of his pants, and folded back the
fabric on either side.
Duo laughed, softly. He sat himself down in a chair again, very close
to Trowa, and his eyes followed his friend's; they watched the top of
the blond head, as Quatre stroked at Trowa's groin; as he lifted his growing
arousal out of his boxers; as he sighed with pleasure at the sight. As
he dipped his head again, and licked
at him -
Trowa groaned loudly. Very loudly.
"A very perfect taste..." murmured
Quatre, though the words were a little muffled.
"You - God - Quatre -" Trowa still
couldn't create a sensible sentence. He snapped his head round, shocked,
thrilled - and saw Duo still gazing at the two of them. What was going
on? Would he ever work it out?
"Duo - what are you -?" Trowa knew that he'd rather have died, than think
anyone watched him at such an intimate time - or rather, that's how he
would have felt. Back in that
time before tonight; the time when he was sane; the time when his best
friends had been only that; the time before Quatre and Duo asked to love
"I like to watch him," sighed Duo. It was as if he read Trowa's mind -
Trowa couldn't help but recall how he so often did that, even from when
they were young students together. Everyone thought Quatre was the empathetic
one - but Duo had a sharp perspicacity that he all but hid under his lively
wit. "You'll not refuse me that, will you, Trowa? It's as good to watch
him with you, as it is for myself. Perhaps even more exciting..." he laughed,
softly - greedily. "Relax, Trowa - and enjoy!"
He leant back against the table beside them, and reached for the plate
of food again, picking up a small stick of satay; tender meat morsels,
soaked in a rich, sticky sauce. He put the tip to his mouth; he caught
Trowa's barely focussed eyes, and smiled at him, with a look full of mischievous
conspiracy. Then his lips clamped over the first nugget of meat, and he
tugged it off with his even white teeth. Tendrils of the sweet brown sauce
stretched between the stick and his mouth; his tongue slipped out, catching
at it, and he licked across his full lips.
Trowa's breath forced out a small panting noise.
"Delicious, Trowa..." Duo growled. "Guess we're all feasting tonight!"
Trowa heard the vibration of his friend's rich voice, deep in his chest.
His cock twitched in response, and he felt the blond man between his legs
laugh softly at the uncontrolled reaction.
"You seem to be managing extremely well with the shock!" Duo smiled. "We
always underestimate you, perhaps..."
"Trowa?" Quatre's head lifted for a moment, a thread of saliva still clinging
to his lips, the other end still attached to the tip of Trowa's aching,
leaking cock. "Is this - Trowa, are you all right with this? With us?"
His eyes pleaded; his eyes devoured Trowa's face, looking for agreement.
Trowa gazed back; he flushed. He didn't think he could find coherent words.
So he nodded.
And with a moan of delight, Quatre's skilful mouth surrounded him.
Trowa's whole life was concentrated in his lap - his pants hung loosely
open at the top of his thighs, and he was gazing at Quatre, who'd just
gone down on him.
His whole body thrummed with the amazing joy of it!
Bright blue eyes flashed a smile up at him; soft, pink lips sucked in
smooth cheeks; a slim, strong tongue lapped eagerly at the crown of his
He heard the soft rattle of the food plate on the table beside them, as
Duo pushed it away. Yes - Duo was still beside him; Duo was humming softly
under his breath; Duo's hands were as busy as ever, stroking smoothly,
and almost aimlessly, at Trowa's bare chest. He reached a nipple, flipping
its sharp, erect bud, and Trowa winced.
Duo smiled. His breath was a little more shallow now.
He lifted one of Trowa's bare arms. Holding it up high, by the wrist,
he bent his head, and his tongue lapped softly at the sensitive skin under
Trowa's biceps. He nibbled - he bit at the flesh of the armpit, and Trowa
He realised he was doing a lot of that tonight.
"Trowa..." came the softest murmur from below. Quatre's words rippled
again, tight around his thick, aching arousal. He felt the dangerous curling
in his groin; the agonising anticipation along his nerves.
"Come for me, Trowa!" gasped Quatre. "I want to drink you - I want to
taste you. I'm hungry for you, Trowa..."
His lips began to tighten; Trowa's legs tensed around his talented tormentor.
His fingers grasped at handfuls of Quatre's hair; he briefly wondered
if he were hurting his friend, but he couldn't have let go if his life
depended on it.
Duo had released his arm; he'd finished his satay snack, and was wiping
away a drop of the sticky sauce on his lips.
"Thirsty, Trowa?" he murmured. He reached back to the table again, and
lifted a glass of the rich red wine that they'd enjoyed earlier. "Quat
has the most perfect taste in wine - coupled with, of course, the means
to own it! Let me share it with you..."
He sounded calm, but Trowa saw that his chest was heaving. He knew his
exuberant friend's reactions well. Duo's eyes were unnaturally bright;
he was very excited. Down between Trowa's legs, Quatre gave a petulant,
Duo took a deep mouthful of the wine, and Trowa watched his throat bobbing,
fascinated afresh by the smooth, tanned skin there. Then suddenly, Duo
was bending his head over him, and his lips pressed down firmly on to
Trowa's. Trowa had seconds to acknowledge that Duo's kiss was confident
and thrilling; that the firm sensuality of his lips was very different
from Quatre's gentle seductiveness; then his own lips opened slightly
to accept Duo's persistent tongue. He felt trickles of the warm wine sliding
into his mouth. He recognised the smooth, expensive taste from his earlier
glasses, but now it was mingled in with the sweetness of Duo's saliva
- the provocative taste of his soft laughter, and his panting, and his
murmur of pleasure in tasting Trowa in return.
Trowa swallowed the wine; he felt the alcohol buzzing gently through his
over-sensitive body. When Duo's wet tongue pressed hungrily after it,
reaching into Trowa's mouth, Trowa took it eagerly.
"Ahhh yes..." whispered Duo. "A very
Quatre murmured something unintelligible; his lips sucked greedily around
Trowa, as if he wanted to draw out every drop of the desire that throbbed
between his legs.
Trowa sobbed; he cried out. With an uncontrollable shudder of his whole
body, he sucked hard on Duo's tongue, as he came in Quatre's mouth - hard,
and richly, and deeply.
Trowa was vaguely aware of his friends, their arms around him, settling
him more comfortably back in his chair. His limbs were like jelly; his
heart had beaten so fiercely that he thought it might have burst out of
He found it very difficult to focus, but he thought he could see Quatre
standing beside the nearby table, pressed gently up against Duo; Duo was
peeling his fine shirt up over his shoulders, and off his body. They kissed
softly, lips and breath touching, tongues just ghosting hungrily at each
other. Trowa sat, nursing his shattered emotions, and admiring the fine
bodies in front of him, both of them now stripped to the waist, the muscles
flexing as they caressed each other.
"Main course now, Quat..." growled Duo. His eyes ran up and down Quatre's
slender torso. His tongue slipped out of his mouth, and licked at lips
that were swollen with drink and kissing.
"You're always hungry, Duo," smiled Quatre. His voice was low and rumbling,
like a cat's purr. Trowa remembered the sound of that voice, vibrating
gently around his throbbing cock.
"Do you blame me?" grinned the braided man. His hands ran down Quatre's
sides, pressing possessively against the bare flesh. One hand reached
back up to Quatre's mouth, the fingers thrusting, teasingly, into the
blond man's mouth. The other hand reached in front, to the fastening of
Quatre's smart, fine pants. "Need more, Quat...want
"I - there are no more starters left," said Trowa, aloud. His voice sounded
weak, even to himself. "I - I'd thought of something creative with prosciutto
The other two were beside him in a heartbeat. Quatre's expression was
a mixture of concern and sparkling desire; Duo's looked downright hungry
- for Trowa, perhaps, as well as food.
"Hi, Trowa," said the braided man, the laughter in his voice, as ever.
"I must say, you look substantially more relaxed now than you did, earlier
in the evening..."
"Let's move on from the starters, shall we?" murmured Quatre. Trowa wondered
whether the drops still glistening on his lips were from his cum, or saliva
from Duo's kisses. "Duo's not the only one who has an appetite now..."
"The prosciutto's gone, anyway," sighed Duo. "I - er - found something
creative on my own, I'm afraid!"
A little stunned, Trowa's attention was torn between two very provocative
sights. On the one hand, there was the excitement of Quatre crouching
at his feet again, pulling his pants and boxers down to his ankles, and
peeling them and his boots right off. On the other hand, there was Duo,
wrapping the last thin, salty slice of Italian ham around his middle finger,
then sucking it mischievously between his plump lips.
"Trowa," he grinned. "Good cut of meat, I must say! You wanna taste it
yourself?" His mouth pursed slightly - his eyes fixed on Trowa's mouth.
Trowa knew that he wanted to kiss him again. He met Duo's wide, bright
eyes, and saw things in there he'd never dreamt of.
Perhaps he had - but never in daylight hours.
It both scared and thrilled him!
"I always wanted to be worthy of you both," he said, the words stumbling
slightly. Quatre's hands were soft on his shivering thighs; he was brushing
lovingly at a sticky trail of seed, tangled in Trowa's pubic hairs. Trowa
was all too aware of the fact that he was now entirely naked. He was also
very afraid that every inch of his skin would be blushing. "I wanted to
make my own way - to have my own success. You're both so brilliant - so
"Trowa, that's not how it is," sighed Quatre.
"You're the one we've always admired," said Duo, shaking his head. "You
never seem to need the external praise - never seem to be bothered with
how others see you. You're so self-contained; so cool -"
"So - scared," Trowa butted in, haltingly. "Scared to be part of things
- scared of failure..."
"Hell of a night then, isn't it?" said Duo, softly. "Time to learn a little
more about each other than before."
"We don't measure success in salary checks, Trowa," said Quatre. There
was a slow, easy smile of affection on his face. "You've always been a
success - you've always been more than worthy of us.
It's whether we measure up to
"You have a perfectly balanced view of life, Trowa - you have your own
confidence - your own assertiveness." Duo's words were very persuasive.
"How often do we come to you with our crises, with our angst?"
"You have a wisdom and an objectivity that we need -" added Quatre.
"You have perfect tastes," growled Duo. "And that's what you are to us..."
"A - perfect taste -?" Trowa's voice was almost a whimper.
Duo smiled, most wickedly. There was no doubt, now, that his hunger was
for the man, not his dishes. "So, it seems that you'll be our main course,
Duo turned to his blond friend. "Quat - ?"
Quatre suddenly stood upright again, sheltered within the open stretch
of Trowa's legs. As Trowa watched, he slid down the zip of his own pants.
"Trowa," he hissed. "I want you to take me - I need you, Trowa."
Trowa stared. His dream was coming to life in front of him! He sat on
a chair, stark naked, still recovering from the most amazing blowjob of
his life, and the gorgeous blond man who wandered through both his sleeping
and waking hours, was stripping in front of him!
Quatre dropped his briefs and pants, kicking them away from off his feet.
He toed off his soft leather shoes. He was now entirely naked, and appeared
to have no embarrassment about it at all. Trowa thought that a moan escaped
his parched throat. He'd never thought of himself as a highly sexual man,
but his cock was telling him something else. Laid at rest on his thigh,
it was throbbing gently; and then less
gently. It was swelling with the return of lusty blood; it was determinedly
returning to full erection.
Then Duo was at Quatre's side, and he lifted the blond man's naked body
up on to the table beside them, very carefully. Briefly, Trowa wondered
where the place settings had gone - wondered at the softness of the fine
linen cloth against his lover's back. Wondered what the hell was the matter
with him, that all he was worrying about were such trivial domestic details!
He watched as Quatre lay back, and wrapped his hands carefully around
the sides of the table beneath him, to anchor himself. The cloth creased
in silent complaint underneath him - he lifted his legs, knees bent, and
placed his feet either side of his body, on the edge of the table.
Trowa gazed at him; at the long, muscled limbs; at the pale, glistening
skin. At the thick, jutting cock, rearing out of the dark blond curls
at his groin. At the beckoning split of his buttocks, the opening spread
eagerly for Trowa's appraisal.
"Touch him, Trowa..." murmured Duo's throaty voice, a hot breath at his
ear. "Take him."
"I -" Trowa faltered. He wanted this so much, that he didn't believe it
could really happen. "I - don't have anything - I -"
Duo was there again - was the damned man everyone at once? - with a tube
in his hands, and a wide smile on his face. His skin was flushed - Trowa
couldn't help but notice that the top button of his pants was open, and
his cock was swelled and straining under the material. He was the only
man with any clothing left on him. His feet were already bare.
"Watch this, then, Trowa - he wriggles in the very best way! And it's
all for you, tonight..."
He squeezed a little out of the tube, on to his fingers. Then his hand
slid down between Quatre's legs, reaching down under his balls, nudging
them gently to the side. The dark pink skin wrinkled, and tightened with
anticipation. Quatre's thighs clenched, and his hips thrust gently towards
his lover. He did, indeed, wriggle very erotically.
"Duo..." sighed Quatre. "Don't tease me tonight..."
Duo didn't. He put a hand to the table to steady himself, and flexed the
wrist of his other hand. Trowa couldn't see under the squashed globes
of Quatre's ass, but he knew what was happening. He saw Quatre's back
arch up, and heard his sudden gasp, as Duo's fingers thrust into his hole.
Duo's hand moved back and forth for a short, sweet while - then he drew
He turned his attentions to Trowa himself. The green eyes of his friend
were wide and shocked; Duo held them with his own gaze. Then he grasped
Trowa's chin, and drew his face to him for another kiss. Trowa tasted
the remainder of the wine; the saltiness of the prosciutto. He was more
than eager this time - it was all more, deliciously familiar. His eyes
closed briefly, and he felt Duo's broad, strong hand, slick with gel,
reach down to between his legs, smoothing more lubrication over his fiercely
erect cock. It hurt - it thrilled. Trowa was terrified that he might come
now, before he'd even entered
Then Duo lifted his hands away from his groin, turned him around, and
pushed him gently forward; up against the table, and snugly between the
bent peaks of Quatre's knees.
Quatre's skin was heated; Trowa felt the throb of his heartbeat inside
his chest as he leant over him. He felt the tension of Quatre's thighs
against his waist; he felt the strength of the man's muscles as his legs
gripped him close.
"Don't wait, Trowa - please don't - take me, Trowa -"
Trowa felt as if he were in a dream; as if he were drugged in some way.
But it was the most exciting feeling he'd ever had. He barely felt Duo's
encouraging hands at his body, urging him forward; barely felt Quatre's
hands reaching up to him, to bring him closer. Quatre's mouth was open,
begging for his kiss; Quatre's legs were open, drawing his body in close.
His cock was heavy and damp with pre-cum, and it pressed against Quatre's
belly. He felt the heat of Quatre's cock, similarly excited, and rubbing
against his own stomach; it seemed almost as impatient as the man beneath
With a sigh, Trowa guided his cock to Quatre's puckered hole, and pressed
almost tentatively against it. Quatre moaned; the entrance seemed to flex
open, and Trowa burst on into him.
Trowa felt the deep, tight warmth of Quatre's ass, and he thought that
he might never breathe normally again.
Quatre appeared to be a vociferous lover, if his cries and complaints
tonight were anything to go by. "Trowa - Goddd
- harder, Trowa - deeper - I want it -!"
Duo's voice was in his ear, urging him on. "Take him, Trowa - take him
hard! He's a noisy little beggar in bed - he knows what he wants. Let
him guide you -"
As Trowa thrust, slowly and steadily, marvelling at the feeling - trying
to savour it for as long as possible
- he felt the warmth of Duo's body up against his back. He could feel
the soft hairs of naked flesh; the throb of an erect arousal, damp with
pre-cum, and pressing insistently up against the back of his thighs.
He wondered when Duo had lost his pants. He wondered why he didn't care
- why he actually welcomed the sensation of his friend's nude body, caressing
and stroking his own. It heightened his excitement, buried deep within
Quatre; he felt his body shiver at the anticipation of seeing Duo like
this; of feeling his touches.
"Trowa..." came the seductive murmur. "You're so hot - you're *both* so
hot... I want you too, Trowa. Will you have me as well, Trowa?"
Trowa gasped - he felt Duo's breath on his neck; a long, limber arm snaked
round his waist, holding him securely, even as he rocked into Quatre.
He felt Duo's fast heartbeat in the chest behind him. His cock throbbed
in response, and he felt Quatre wriggle and moan, impaled underneath.
"Let me take you, Trowa," pleaded Duo. "Let me share you with Quatre.
Share him with you..."
His free hand was eager at Trowa's ass - it moved backwards and forwards
with Trowa's thrusting; it caressed the muscles as they clenched and relaxed;
it brushed lovingly at the crevice between the buttocks.
Duo's fingers were still cool and slippery with lubricating gel. They
teased at Trowa's opening; they slipped the first knuckle of a finger
inside him. Trowa gasped; he was tight; he was concentrating on moving
in and out of Quatre; he was assaulted by the thrill of it all. But it
was a brilliant feeling!
"Trowa -" Quatre was almost wailing. He rocked dangerously on the dining
table, one of the legs skittering against the smooth floor. The tablecloth
was impossibly creased, and damp with sweat, and looked to be ripping
apart underneath his writhing body. "Have him too, Trowa - have Duo! Both
of you fuck me -!"
Trowa twisted his head back, to take Duo's gasping mouth on his. It was
a taste he was growing desperate for; it was the taste of another lover,
and one that he would enjoy learning more about - much
Duo moaned in reply, with delight, his finger still inside Trowa, pressing,
and loosening, and caressing... And then Trowa tasted something else
that was rather more familiar to him!
"Duo!" he gasped, fighting back a laugh. "The chocolate torte - where
did you find it -?"
Duo's grin was pressed against his mouth, and the smears of pure chocolate
on his tongue were a dead giveaway.
"This is a gourmet evening, Trowa! What would it be without dessert? And
while we're talking of dessert -"
The hand that Duo held around Trowa's waist slid away - it reached back
behind him, to another table. Then it crept back around the side of Trowa's
body, and Trowa watched with amazement as something white, and thick,
and glutinous dripped slowly off Duo's fingers, and fell in thick dribbles
on to Quatre's chest. They both stared down at the blond man, spread out
beneath Trowa, his hips tight against Trowa's groin, responding in kind
to every thrust that Trowa made. Quatre yelped at the new sensation.
"I always have cream with my dessert," grunted Duo. "You two can lick
it up for me, in just - in just - a minute - oh God
- yes - you feel so good -!"
His cock rubbed its wet, hot tip across Trowa's skin, and both men shuddered
with delight. Duo was impatient, now; he bent his legs slightly, and Trowa
felt his cool fingers back at his buttocks, gripping him none too carefully.
Quatre stilled beneath Trowa, his legs still clutching him close, but
eager not to disturb Duo's joining them.
Trowa felt the wet, sticky head of Duo's cock pressing at his hole. The
stretching fingers had gone - but Trowa felt his muscles still open wide
with the mere memory of them.
He looked down at Quatre; the blond had his eyes half closed with his
encroaching ecstasy; his skin was flushed, and blotched in the places
where Trowa had gripped at him. There were trails of cool, thick cream
all over his torso. His lips were plump and moist, with an edge caught
up under his white teeth, as he held in his moans of pleasure. His hair
was plastered across his forehead with sweat; there were smears of butter
still under his chin.
Trowa thought that nothing on earth could look more desirable!
He bent his head down towards Quatre's chest, and licked at the cream.
It was cool liquid, in amongst the soft, but warmer hairs of his lover's
chest. Quatre's answering laugh was more of a hiccup.
"You are my dream," breathed Trowa.
"Nothing better - " groaned Quatre, struggling with words. He reached
up, to grip at Trowa's hips. "A living dream -"
"Make it a damned good wet one!"
groaned Duo's voice, behind him; and he pushed steadily into Trowa.
Trowa gasped at the sudden invasion - he tried to relax, and adjust to
the new feelings of being pinned between the two men. Duo was gasping,
and keening quietly. He held Trowa again, round the waist; his other hand
stroked at his neck. He wriggled his hips, pushing himself in further
until he stood tightly clenched up against Trowa's ass.
"Trowa..." groaned Quatre. "Move, Trowa -!"
And then Trowa grinned. It was such an astonishing, amazing thing! He
moved slowly forward into Quatre again - felt the blond cry out. Duo's
body moved forward with him - then as he pulled a little way out of Quatre
again, he felt himself thrust back on to Duo's cock, the damp dark hairs
of the other man's pubic area caressing his tense buttocks.
Duo grunted, and Trowa felt his cock swell inside him. "Christ, Trowa
- not long - can't hang on - never felt so good -"
Trowa made the same movement again - and again. He started to build a
rhythm - he could feel completion racing on for all of them. He arched
his back, twisting his head in Duo's grasp, so that they could meet in
an almost aggressive kiss. "You're amazing, Duo," he moaned into the hot,
firm mouth. "I never knew it could be like this!"
"God, Trowa, you are one fantastic lover -" gasped Duo. Their combined
thrusts, both Duo into Trowa, and then Trowa into Quatre, were slowing
- but they were getting deeper and fiercer. "Why the hell
I haven't jumped you before now, I can't imagine -!"
Trowa turned back to gaze down at Quatre; his eyes were glazing over,
and his limbs were beginning to shake.
"Quatre -" His voice sounded uncertain - a little strangled.
"Let it go, Trowa," gasped the blond. He reached his arms up to grasp
Trowa, and hold him to him. "You've given so much more than I ever hoped
for - ohhh God! - I want to come with you - touch me -"
Trowa couldn't speak at all - his orgasm was already racing through his
veins, and he could feel his cock swelling inside Quatre's ass. He couldn't
have stopped himself if it had been a matter of life or death; or the
owner of the satellite Catering Channel had arrived at the door with a
He loosened a hand from Quatre's hip, and wrapped it around the twitching,
blood-red cock that was squashed between their heaving bodies. Quatre
shouted, once, and then it jerked in Trowa's hand as he came. He gripped
at the table, and Trowa felt the slender body shudder underneath him.
There was a warm, sticky explosion from his cock, and the cum sprayed
liberally over Trowa's belly and groin.
"Trowa!" Quatre cried, almost sobbing with the relief of climax. "Oh my
God - my lover -!"
Trowa cried out as well - his hands fell back to Quatre's hips, to anchor
himself back on the planet, because his cock was bursting up into his
lover's spread body, and his body was losing all sense and concentration.
Behind him, both of Duo's arms slid around his waist and gripped him hard,
holding him upright for just one last thrust. With a groan, Duo climaxed
as well, his hips slamming tightly against Trowa's shaking ass.
There was nothing but panting breath, and groaning bodies for a few moments.
The three bodies remained clutched together, breathing in each other's
smell; soaking in each other's sweat; listening to each other's slowing
Then Quatre wriggled on the table, trapped uncomfortably beneath Trowa,
and with a soggy, wet, squelching noise, Duo slipped awkwardly out of
Trowa's ass. They all broke apart, eyes shining, hearing the sounds of
their soft, amazed laughter.
"Shit..." groaned Duo, the first
to speak, as might have been expected. "The service here just so
deserves a good tip!"
There are many of Trowa's friends who still ask how the opening finally
went - and he's always glad to tell them the official report.
It was successful, of course! There were several celebrities there, who
enjoyed a fine and perfectly presented meal. The staff were on astonishingly
good behaviour - the restaurant itself had been redecorated in places,
with some new furniture and fittings that did nothing but enhance the
overall ambience. Everyone commented on the quality of the flowers. The
press had come to scorn, but they left full of praise - and a fine red
The three friends were all there, on the night. Together, as they had
been, for almost every day of the last month's preparations. In fact,
they'd rarely been out of each other's apartments in all that time - there
had always been some reason to bring them together, at all hours of the
day or night. And everyone agreed that the success of the restaurant was
due to a combination of all of their talents.
A measure of Trowa's inspired and adventurous menus, and his relaxed bonhomie
- so unlike his previous character, which many had taken as very reserved!
A measure of Duo's outrageous marketing - he was everywhere, at all times,
charming, and teasing, and gently drafting out many a review article,
so that the journalist concerned would hardly notice.
A measure of Quatre's magical prowess with profit and loss - prices were
pitched at just the right level; suppliers had agreed to very reasonable
contracts; staff had been reorganised to provide affordable support for
Trowa at all times.
"And all knives accounted for," grumbled Duo, who remained very cautious
of the pastry chef.
The restaurant is booked in advance for many months - although it always
closes on Mondays. This tantalises the clientele - it adds to the exclusivity,
and keeps up the hunger for tables from the rich and famous.
It's really just an excuse for the three lovers to take their time together;
to sit and discuss the week's plans. To consider what has been successful
in previous marketing, and what future themes will be. To count the cost
of new menus; to admire the profits made to date. They try out new recipes;
they consider the popularity of dishes, and suggestions from the guests.
Then Quatre clears the cutlery and crockery from one of the sturdier tables;
and Duo fetches a jug of cream from the deserted kitchen.
And then they spend plenty of quality time, savouring their own - and
most personal - 'dish of the day'!
[back to Fancy Figures' fic]