Summary: This takes place just before the episode, "The Sorrowful Battle".
03+01, 06x03 Lemon
This series is set during the show and assumes the reader is familiar with
the story line. This chapter takes place in Antarctica just before "The
Warning: lemon ahead.
Souls + Chapter 8
Lieutenant Noin was a good
soldier. Trowa would never have agreed to leave Sicily with her, and he'd
have done his damndest to keep Heero from going, if he hadn't sensed the
honor in the woman even before she explained Zechs's desire to continue
his duel with Heero. The way she'd just walked in on them in that warehouse
on the Italian docks-- no escort, no gun in sight-- showed guts.
Not that this made the long, cold journey to Antarctica any less of a
bad, stupid, pointless idea. Heero's quest for atonement from General
Noventa's family had at least been understandable, and in the end it was
something Trowa deeply respected, but this seemed like a meaningless risk.
A battle was something you had to fight; there was some purpose, some
objective to be gained.
He'd begun to think he understood Heero. Under that icy exterior, Yuy
really was a surprisingly nice guy, and a kindred spirit. He shared Trowa's
unwavering sense of duty and fearlessness. He treated him like an equal,
too, despite their rough start. He wasn't much a talker, but when he did
say something it was worth hearing. Trowa understood that, too.
Because of all that, Heero's consent to continue a meaningless duel with
Zechs Merquise surprised him. When they'd fought in Siberia that had been
battle. This was a pointless match. Or a trap.
On the other hand, Trowa was curious. During the battle in Siberia Zechs
had given no quarter, but the moment Une had announced that she was holding
the colonies hostage with the fortress Barge, he'd refused to take any
advantage of the situation, not even demanding their surrender, which
would have been his right. And when Heero had self destructed, he'd made
no move to stop Trowa from removing his fallen comrade's body from the
field, or keep any of them from escaping. And now this arcane request
for a duel? Perhaps he was someone worth meeting.
Curiosity aside, Trowa wasn't naive, either. This could still be a trap.
Of course, it never occurred to Trowa not to go with Heero. Heero had
clearly assumed he would, too.
It was flattering, that unspoken expectation. This business with Merquise
was none of Trowa's affair, and he knew that Heero was not the sort to
seek out companions. For his part, Trowa hadn't liked being alone. He'd
grown up as part of a unit, surrounded by men who relied on each other,
fought for each other, and united off the field as friends or lovers.
Ellicott's group had been only a pale shadow of that, and the Barton faction,
too, but at least he'd been part of something again. It was probably why
he'd chosen the circus as his cover, aside from his natural talents. He
was part of something again; a member of a pack, even if at first he'd
had to lie to them about whom he really was.
And in all cases, including the circus, there'd been the physical comfort
of sex whenever he'd cared to seek it out. He hadn't been with anyone
in well over two months now, not since a week or two before Heero had
come out of his coma. He and Heero hadn't shared a bed since they left
the circus, either; Heero had made it quite clear without ever saying
anything that he was not interested in anything more than companionship.
Trowa couldn't understand it. They got along. They were stuck in the same
limbo, with the colonies still held hostage. They shared the bond of being
Gundam pilots. They were young, healthy, and they were always together.
Trowa didn't usually give the matter much thought, but he'd been told
he was reasonably good looking. What could be more natural than the occasional
suck or cuddle to take the edge off or pass the time? There'd been plenty
of nights, like those ones after Heero had been turned away by one of
the Noventas, when he'd clearly been low and in need of comfort. Trowa
would have happily just slept beside him or held him, but any hint of
such an offer got him a blank look or a cold shoulder.
It didn't feel like homophobia, though. As far as Trowa could tell, Heero
just didn't think about such things, any more than he cared what he wore
or if he had enough to eat or a comfortable place to sleep. In that he
was the opposite of Trowa. Trowa was just as tough, but he didn't live
rough by choice. More than once he'd insisted on a decent hotel with good
beds and hot water when Heero would have just as happily have spent another
night in the back of the transport truck.
It was an odd partnership, and Heero was an odd partner, but if he wanted
Trowa's company on this new quest, then he had it. There was no discussion.
It was understood.
The flight from Sicily to the Barclay base was a long one. Noin continued
to treat them like guests rather than prisoners, but they got a few dark
looks from some of her crewmen, and the main suit bay was off limits and
Trowa spent most of the trip showing Heero Heavyarms's controls. Lying
on his back in the com chair, Heero ran through the controls and learned
the weaponry. The massive left arm was going to be a problem. It was the
hardest to work and Heero's left arm was still healing.
He shoved at the joystick and grimaced. "Did you balance the arm to account
for the extra weight of the gun?"
Trowa shook his head. "No, I left it that way on purpose, so I could react
faster when I drop the gat."
That got him an approving nod. It didn't matter to Heero that he had less
than twenty-four hours to pick up the knack, or that he'd already managed
to rip out some stitches and was bleeding through his bandage again. He
would learn this because he had to. There was simply no other option.
Mission accepted, he'd probably told himself, as he always did.
Still, after a moment he paused and did something totally unexpected.
He looked up and gave Trowa an embarassed, almost shy look. "Sorry. We
don't usually like other people touching our own Gundams, do we?"
It was an acknowledgement of fact, but felt so intimate that Trowa blinked
and hid behind his bangs. It was true; he'd let men he hardly knew take
his cock in their mouth, but he'd kill anyone who tried to sit where Heero
was sitting right now. The way Heero was positioned, on his back, legs
slightly splayed, dressed in dark jeans and an old white Oxford Trowa
had lent him--he looked like a normal kid. And hot . . .
Trowa killed that thought fast and hard. // Not Heero. Not with Heero.
"Then you better hurry up and get to know this thing," he replied calmly.
He was very good at hiding his feelings.
The truth about Zechs's presence in Antarctica began to come clear when
they were attacked just as they made landfall. Noin didn't explain, but
from what he and Heero overheard, standing just outside the cockpit, the
people pursuing them were OZ, too, which explained a lot. Why stage a
duel where no one could see it, unless Zechs had something to hide?
"He's defected," Heero muttered.
"Sounds like it. Are you still going to fight him?"'
Of course. But now Trowa was even more curious about this Colonel Zechs.
He'd been Treize Kushrenada's right hand man. What the hell going on?
A squadron of OZ fighter transports appeared and attacked them. Noin impressed
him again when she went to fight them off, ordering the transport to continue
on and get Heero to the base. Her courage was matched by her obvious devotion
to Zechs, and Trowa suspected there was something more at work there than
mere duty. She left the ship in a suit with a few fighters, ordering her
remaining crew to get the boys and the Gundam to Zechs, and not to look
back. It was a bold move, and one worthy of a good officer.
Her captain was too loyal to take her advice, though. Watching on monitors,
they saw the fight go sour. Noin and her wingman went down under overwhelming
forces, and their surrender was not accepted. It seemed clear the attackers
were out to destroy them.
// And that's exactly what was going to happen to the rest of us, flying
a single shuttle back into the face of unbeatable odds, // Trowa thought
as they headed back to help.
The transport was hit by enemy fire before they could get close enough
to do her any good, just as he'd expected.
"Prepare for emergency landing!" the captain ordered.
"Let me off first," Trowa told him. "I'll go fix the mess caused by your
Heero followed him out to the bay. "Good luck. You shouldn't have any
trouble against them."
Trowa gave him a curt nod as he hit the hatch seal. "Thanks. I don't plan
But in the end he screwed up, too. He took out all the enemy suits, and
got the leader last. He thought he'd finished him off with a slash of
his blade, but the man survived long enough to get out a distress call,
informing any OZ forces in range that there was a Gundam here. It was
a stupid, possibly fatal error. Overcome with rage and self-loathing,
Trowa shredded the suit and its pilot, attacking so savagely he wrenched
his right wrist badly. Sickened and in pain, he tumbled out of the cockpit
into the snow. He'd saved Noin, whom he owed nothing, blown their cover
in a totally pointless battle, and failed to do the one thing that most
mattered; silence the enemy.
"Trowa, are you hurt?" Lieutenant Noin called, running to him in concern.
Trowa pushed her away and staggered to his feet. He'd forgotten to put
on the parka she'd given him. The wind cut through his thin clothing.
If he stayed out here more than a few minutes, he'd be dead in no time;
another dumb oversight on his part. "I'm fine. Reload the explosives for
"Never mind that. You need to look after yourself!"
Trowa shook his head and set off for the shuttle, which had landed nearby.
He could see Heero there, standing at the top of a snow bank waiting for
him. Impending hypothermia wouldn't let him veer from his path, but he
didn't look forward to explaining his error.
"They got a call out," he muttered through chattering teeth as he passed
But Heero just took off his parka, and threw it over Trowa's shoulders,
then got an arm around his waist and helped him on toward the shuttle
"Did you hear what I said?" Trowa demanded.
Heero nodded. "Yeah. Couldn't be helped. You need to get warm."
The shuttle took off again and he and the other wounded were given heated
blankets, hot rations, and lots of coffee. Heero sat with him the rest
of the flight, not saying much but obviously concerned. Touched but embarassed,
Trowa threw of the blankets as soon as the shivering subsided and got
back to work.
By the time they landed at the Barclay base, Heavyarms was reloaded and
ready to rock. But there were more surprises in store.
The first was the man himself. In Siberia Trowa had not seen Zechs out
of his mobile suit, but he had seen him on the news and would have known
him by that helmet-like mask he always wore.
Merquise was outside to greet them, a tall figure in a long gray greatcoat.
Below the helmet, his hair was so blond it looked white as the surrounding
snow in this light, and whipped in the wind well past his shoulders. Even
bundled up as he was, Trowa's first impression was-- as Lorca or Ortiz
might have put it--"Fucking sex on legs!"
Merquise welcomed them and extended a hand. Both boys ignored it.
"Are we supposed to shake hands?" Trowa asked dryly. His own reaction
to the man's appearance put him on his guard.
Merquise just smiled and led them and Lieutenant Noin inside and down
Trowa's first impression of the man was reinforced when Merquise discarded
the coat. He was talking to Heero now and Trowa hung back with the woman,
taking in the view as he listened to them sound each other out. Heero
was being his usual charming self.
Heero could handle himself. Trowa wasn't so certain about himself. Instincts
honed by too many weeks of abstinence were threatening to override common
Merquise's legs were very long and slim, encased in tall black
cavalry boots to the knee, and skin-tight white military trousers that
called attention to more than they hid. His close-fitted jacket was cut
like Noin's, but red rather than black and decorated with lots of fancy
gold braid. And if that wasn't enough, the way all that thick, shining
platinum hair swung above that incredible ass as he walked made Trowa's
mouth water. It was a shame that helmet hid most of what he suspected
was a good-looking face. The mouth was nice, that was for sure.
A man this beautiful, enemy or not, possibly crazy or not, took Trowa's
breath away. He surreptitiously adjusted the front of his pants. He'd
be damned if he'd let anyone here, especially Heero, see him saluting
an Oz officer with his dick!
Heero said something terse and Merquise just smiled and led them to a
set of large metal double doors. "We've prepared a friendly reception
for you. Try to make yourselves at home."
He led them into a dimly lit hangar bay and Heero and Trowa both stopped
short. Wing stood there in a repair gantry, right beside Zechs's own Tallgeese.
The Gundam looked perfect. Even the paint job was perfect.
"My-- my mobile suit!" Heero gasped.
Trowa had never heard such a mix of wonder and longing in his friend's
voice before, or seen him look more surprised. And he was equally stunned.
It had to be some sort of trap! Why else would Merquise go to all this
trouble? It couldn't be out of the goodness of his heart.
Merquise introduced them to Meiser, the head mechanic, who seemed genuinely
pleased with the project. It seemed Merquise wanted to resume their duel
exactly where they'd left off, even leaving his own suit partially unrepaired
and at a disadvantage to simulate the damage Heero cause in Siberia.
"When can we start?" Heero asked curtly.
"How does tomorrow morning sound?" Merquise replied.
Noin was annoyed by this exchange. "Heero Yuy! Isn't there something you're
forgetting to say to Colonel Zechs?"
Heero spared her a withering glance. "I will thank him, but in my own
way. I'll kill Zechs." He turned back to Zechs. "That's how I'll show
Noin was shocked, and even Trowa was a little surprised, but Zechs nodded
slightly and said, "That'll be fine."
Heero regarded him for a moment, and then held out his hand. "I've never
shaken hands with anyone before."
Merquise shook with him in a very dignified way. Trowa didn't have much
experience with gentlemen, but he suspected Merquise was one.
Heero distrusted such generosity, but he was impressed with the repairs,
until he saw that the self-destruct switch had been disabled. That threw
a spanner in the works. To Meiser's dismay, he decided to use Heavyarms
after all, and he and Trowa ended up working late into the night to finish
There was a small sleeping alcove in the hangar and Trowa caught some
shut eye, but the sound of Heero still tinkering up there woke him and
he went back out to see how he was doing.
Heero was crouched on the catwalk, clutching his bad arm. Trowa could
see the lines of exhaustion on the boy's face. He also noted that Heero
had changed into his own clothes, those black shorts, tank top and those
ugly yellow sneakers. Trowa shook his head; he had on long pants and a
turtleneck and he was cold.
"What time is it?" Heero called down.
"2:32 a.m. Let me take over."
Heero hesitated, and then said grudgingly, "Appreciate it."
Trowa passed him on the stairs as he came down and saw that he really
was worn out. "Don't worry. Just get some rest. There's a bed right over
there, off that corridor, and no one bothered me. I think they have this
hangar sealed off or something."
Trowa went to work, using a checklist Heero had been working from. He
was busy making some final adjustments to the beam saber controls an hour
or so later when he heard footsteps on the catwalk outside. Climbing out
of the cockpit, he found Zechs Merquise standing there with two mugs of
coffee. He smiled slightly as he handed one to Trowa. "Good morning. I
thought you could use this. Where's Yuy?"
"Ah, good." Merquise looked perfect as ever, despite it being the middle
of the night, and he sounded more relaxed than he had been this afternoon.
That deep, husky voice was friendly, as if they were comrades rather than
enemies. "Noin told me what you did. You have my thanks. She's too good
a soldier to lose to dogs like that."
Trowa shrugged and accepted the coffee, trying to ignore the way that
voice affected him. "I had no choice. The shuttle captain disobeyed orders
and jeopardized the transport. Lieutenant Noin might be willing to die
for you. I'm not."
Zechs nodded slowly. It was hard to read him in that mask. Even the eye
ports were reflective. Trowa watched his mouth instead, and found it expressive.
Merquise liked his answer, or was pretending to.
Trowa gestured up at Wing. "Why are you doing all this?"
Merquise sipped his coffee. "To learn more about these remarkable suits
of yours, at first, and because I thought my superiors were foolish to
ignore such an opportunity. But it turned into a personal challenge. I've
striven to perfect myself as a warrior. Yuy is the best opponent I've
faced. I didn't want to die without fighting him again, and finding out
who is the better pilot. You two are so young, yet so good. From what
I've seen, all of the Gundam pilots are exceptional fighters. It's a pity
we ended up on opposite sides."
"You put us there. If the Earth hadn't chosen to oppress the colonies,
I wouldn't be standing here now."
"We're more alike than you think. When I joined OZ, it was said to simply
be a unit of elite fighters, but our real purpose was to fight the corrupt
Alliance from the inside."
Trowa frowned, trying to decide if he believed him. "Why would you care?"
"I am a knight of the Sanque kingdom. Alliance forces conquered my country,
just as they are attempting to do to your precious colonies. Only it wasn't
enough to conquer it. They wiped out the royal family, a noble line of
true pacifists, and laid the countryside to waste. I wanted revenge."
"Have you achieved it?"
"Yes, but now OZ has been betrayed into becoming the very thing we were
supposed to oppose. Have you heard of the Romefeller Foundation? They're
the ones really pulling the strings. A world wide oligarchy was not what
I joined up to help establish. I thought we would fight for freedom, just
like you. So, as I said, we're not so different, you and I."
Trowa shook his head. "I wouldn't tell an enemy this much about myself."
"What does it matter? Your friend may kill me tomorrow. If not, then I'm
still a hunted man. OZ is on the way. Whatever happens tomorrow, I'm not
walking away. So why shouldn't I sit here and spend my last night drinking
coffee with a fellow warrior? It's better than being alone."
"What about Lieutenant Noin? Why aren't you with her?"
Those expressive lips widened in a mocking smile. "We're not lovers, if
that's what you mean. She's not my type."
"And you don't fuck your men?"
It was a low blow, meant as an insult. His body was betraying him and
he needed to push the man away. But Merquise only chuckled and shook his
head. "Not tonight. Everyone is terribly worried about me, afraid of what's
going to happen. They care far too much about my safety and continued
existence. I'd just have to expend energy reassuring them. No, it's much
more peaceful sitting here with you."
Trowa saw the logic of that and laughed softly in spite of his continued
distrust. There was something of Heero in Merquise: that same dedication
and stubbornness, the same readiness to follow his heart and die for what
he believed. But he was also a little like Trowa, too, seeking out companionship,
even an enemy's, rather than be alone. And of course, there was Siberia.
"Heero is my friend, so I can't really wish you luck," he told him, "but
perhaps things will turn out better than you expect for both of you. It
doesn't have to be to the death."
Merquise raised his coffee mug to salute him. "You're very kind, and very
gallant. You would have done well at the Academy."
"I was raised on the battlefield by common soldiers. I don't think your
Academy would have taught me any better."
"Not about fighting, perhaps, but there's more to life than that, isn't
Trowa said nothing, but found himself thinking of how much he actually
enjoyed the circus work, and the camaraderie there. He even allowed himself
to picture Quatre Winner and wondered what might have been if they'd met
in peacetime. Not that that would have happened, given their backgrounds,
but all the same, he couldn't forget what it had been like to hold him
that night at the desert oasis. It had been warm there, and so was Quatre.
So warm. And Trowa was so cold inside now, and had been for what felt
like forever; maybe since that last kiss in San Francisco.
"It is lonely, isn't it, this war?" Merquise said softly. The man had
an uncanny knack for reading him, something most people couldn't do.
Trowa ducked his head, hiding again he watched the steam rising from his
cup. Anxious to change the subject, he asked, "Do you wear that mask all
"No, not all the time." Merquise pulled it off and shook out long pale
bangs that reminded Trowa far too much of Quatre's. But the eyes were
different. Beautiful, but different. They were an intense, piercing light
blue, and filled with weariness and a strange humor. Trowa's hand tightened
around his cup as a rush of pure lust swept over him.
Merquise laughed softly. "I find you very attractive, too, Trowa."
Trowa blinked, wondering if he'd heard the man correctly. Merquise banished
that doubt by setting his cup aside and closing the distance between them.
He didn't touch him, just stood there close enough for Trowa to feel the
heat of his body and breath. He stared up into those amazing eyes, knowing
what he was seeing there-- the familiar mix of question and challenge-but
still not trusting himself to act. This was crazy! This was wrong.
Merquise touched Trowa's cheek and murmured the age-old question. "Do
you want to?"
"Are you joking?"
"I think you want it. I think you've wanted it since we met."
Trowa wanted to refute that, but couldn't.
Merquise smiled down at him, and freed of that mask, it was devastating.
"Look at it this way. By this time tomorrow I might be dead. I'm assuming
you and Yuy aren't paired, and I'm already a declared a traitor against
OZ, so what's the harm?"
Trowa wanted to back away from the heat of the man and his virile smell
and the lazy, sensuous gleam warming those eyes, but his feet wouldn't
move. It was like being locked in a cage with a lion. A hungry lion. A
hungry, sexy lion in heat. "If you kill Heero, I'll come after you. I'll
Merquise brushed his cheek again. "Fair enough. So, do you want to?"
This time tomorrow, Trowa might be dead, too. He was deep in enemy territory
and OZ troops were probably already on the way, forewarned of his presence.
Mind warred with body and body was winning fast. At last he gritted out,
"No fucking. No kissing. Take it or leave it."
Merquise nodded, then glanced over Trowa's shoulder at the open cockpit
"And not there!" Trowa snapped.
"Of course not. Follow me."
Merquise strode off down the catwalk, leading him to a small, box-like
office at the head of the gantry. It was littered with spare parts and
tools, but there was a narrow cot at the back next to a drafting table.
Still wary, Trowa let Merquise go in first, then followed. Merquise locked
the door. The room had no windows. A small red safety lamp glowed over
the doorway, casting a dim light over the room.
This was stupid, a bad idea, possibly even disloyal to Heero, but Trowa
was cold and tired and horny and past caring and Merquise was already
pressed up behind him, running warm strong hands up under the hem of his
black pullover to caress his belly and chest. Trowa had expected the usual
quick hand or blowjob, but Merquise was taking his time. Knowing fingers
found his hard nipples and circled them with maddening skill. Trowa groaned
and leaned back against him, letting his head fall back against that broad
shoulder. This was stupid but his body didn't care.
Merquise pulled his collar down and licked and nipped his way down the
side of Trowa's neck. He shivered and turned his head away, giving him
better access. Merquise pulled the collar down farther and bit him none
too gently on the top of his shoulder. Trowa hissed and ground back against
the erection pressing at his ass.
With an approving growl, Merquise spun him around so their erections rubbed
together. Merquise felt big. Trowa moaned, eyes half closed, and then
jerked his head back as the other man leaned down. "I told you, I don't
"Sorry. You just have such a beautiful mouth, Trowa Barton."
"And you can fuck it, but that's all."
Merquise growled again, then stripped Trowa naked and urged him down on
the cot on his back.
Trowa's heart was hammering in his chest now. "Condoms. In my pocket."
Merquise grinned and held up a pair of foil packets. They weren't just
rubbers, they were expensive synth skin sheaths; only the best for OZ
officers, apparently. Kneeling beside the bed, Merquise tore one open,
sheathed Trowa's cock, then took it down his throat in one long sensuous
movement of lips and tongue.
The man was a master cocksucker. Trowa almost came right then and there,
but Merquise had a hand around the base of his cock now, squeezing just
hard enough to fend off ejaculation. Trowa was left gasping and bucking
underneath the man, his cock engulfed in the most incredible pleasure
he'd ever felt, his whole body on fire with it. All that thick pale hair
spread across Trowa's hips and thighs, a tickling, caressing fall of silk.
Merquise's free hand roamed Trowa's body, stroking and touching him just
right, as if he knew every inch of him like a lover.
"Let me suck you!" Trowa gasped, trying to push him off before he came.
Merquise released him and stood up. Trowa's body ached in protest, but
he was rewarded with the sight of the man stripping off that uniform to
reveal one incredible body. He was young, but he had the hard, tight muscled
build of a young man, not a boy. His cock was even bigger than Trowa had
thought, and uncut. Lost in lust now, Trowa felt a pang of disappointment
as he rolled the condom on over it. Synth skins were good; they felt almost
like the real thing, but you lost the smell and taste of your partner.
Suddenly Trowa wanted to know what Zechs Merquise tasted like.
Merquise lay down, head to toe, facing him and took Trowa's cock in his
mouth again, swirling his tongue over the throbbing head. His heavy erection
bobbed in front of Trowa's face and Trowa grasped it at the base. It was
hot to the touch and hard as a rock.
Trowa moaned again as Zechs made an encouraging sound around his cock,
but he willed himself not to come yet. Instead, he concentrated on the
heat and sensation as he took that thick shaft in his mouth. Zechs smelled
very clean. Trowa sucked on his head and shaft, seeing how much of it
he could actually take without choking, then pulled off to bury his nose
in that patch of pale musky curls at the base. That rich male aroma hit
like a drug and Trowa shifted around to lick and nuzzle the heavy sac,
rolling the balls with his tongue.
Merquise moaned around his cock, then pulled back just long enough to
whisper, "God, Barton, that's good! So good!" Then he returned the favor,
licking and sucking on Trowa's balls and the sensitive ridge of flesh
just behind them. Pulling Trowa's legs apart, he nipped at the insides
of his thighs, then ducked down and bit the slight curve of his ass.
So this really wasn't going to be a quick suck, Trowa realized, drowning
in pleasure. Merquise wanted more than that, was offering more than that
and Trowa gladly reciprocated. Inflamed with lust, swept away by arousal,
Trowa let himself go, knowing he had a partner as sensually driven as
he was. His hands roamed further, satisfying his curiosity about what
those long legs felt like, and that belly, and the hard round ass. Merquise's
skin was soft and smooth over rippling muscle and slender bones. His nipples
were hard points against Trowa's belly. He reached down and pinched one
and Merquise gasped and sucked harder. No, this was nothing like the quick
couplings he was used to. Trowa had never been with anyone like this before.
It wasn't just sex, it was a feast!
They were both too turned on for it to last long. Trowa came first, fucking
Merquise's mouth hard and fast. Hands locked on Trowa's narrow hips as
Merquise used his tongue to drive him over the edge and held him as he
bucked and moaned around the cock in his own mouth. Trowa came hard and
good and felt it all over his body, not just in his groin like he usually
did. It was amazing.
There wasn't time to savor it, though. If Heero woke up and came looking
for him, he didn't want to have to explain himself. He couldn't.
Trowa pulled off the sheath and sealed it, then pushed Merquise over onto
his back and knelt over him. Merquise surrendered completely, pillowing
his head on one arm, eyes closed, mouth smiling.
Trowa knew how to make a man come fast, but he held back a little, feeling
like he owed him better than that. He took his time at first, licking
and sucking and probing with his tongue. Merquise encouraged him with
soft gasps and moans, and slowly pumped his hips up, seeking more. Trowa
obliged, deep throating him hard and fast. In an instant he had the man's
whole body trembling. Merquise buried a hand in Trowa's hair, but he didn't
try to control his movements, just stroked and caressed his head as he
Trowa had never experienced anything like this. Most men he'd had sex
with had treated him OK, but there'd been no finesse, no lingering, and
not much affection. He wasn't certain what he was feeling from Merquise,
but that touch was soft and sensuous, making him feel appreciated, if
nothing else, rather than just another convenient orifice. He'd never
expected anything like this, and certainly not now.
Merquise's orgasm hit hard, too, and lasted a good long time. It was satisfying
to see that incredible body buck and tremble, all because of what Trowa
was doing to it. He felt real regret when it ended and that caressing
hand fell away.
He tried to get up, already looking for his discarded clothes, but Merquise
caught him by the hand and pulled him down to lie beside him. He didn't
try to hold him, just rolled onto his side and pressed one hand to Trowa's
chest, over his heart. What he felt there made him smile again. They lay
like that for a moment. God, the man was beautiful!
"That was wonderful, Trowa. Thank you so much."
Another first. He'd had men pay him, even give him a curt, "Thanks, kid,"
but never anything so heartfelt. Merquise really meant it. He was grateful.
Trowa sighed, caught between conflicting emotions. He hadn't expected
to feel anything but release. "You were really good, too . . . Thanks.
But this doesn't change anything, you know."
"Of course not. It wasn't intended to. You'd better go get cleaned up
now. There are showers in the bathroom under the gantry." He ran his fingers
back through Trowa's bangs and looked into his eyes. "For what it's worth,
I hope I never have to fight you."
With that, he dressed quickly, pocketing his own used condom and the wrappers.
And then he was gone. Trowa did the same and slipped cautiously out of
the room, careful to take his sealed condom with him. You could never
be too careful with such evidence, he knew. Then again, if this had all
been some ploy to get a DNA sample from a Gundam pilot, why had Merquise
left it behind? Trowa shook his head and slipped out, alert to any observers.
The gantry was still deserted and he met no one on the hangar the way
to the bathroom. He passed the little alcove where Yuy was and saw that
his friend was still asleep. That was good.
In the bathroom he went to a toilet, tore open the condom and flushed
the contents away, along with the torn skin.
The showers were gang style, in a tiled room beyond the toilets and a
rack of towels. Inside, there were showerheads set high in the wall. As
he lathered up under one of them, it occurred to him that he hadn't had
a proper bath in days. He'd probably smelled bad, but Merquise hadn't
seemed to mind. The thought of it made him hard and hot all over again
and he braced one hand against the wall and jerked off, replaying the
scene with Merquise over again in his mind. He'd just had the best sex
of his life, and perhaps the last, with an OZ colonel. He came with a
bitter laugh and stood gasping under the hot spray.
"Trowa? Is that you?"
Still cradling his softening cock in his hand, Trowa looked over his shoulder
and found Yuy in the doorway. He looked worried.
"Yes. Just needed a wash."
"Me, too." Heero disappeared for a moment, and then strode in naked and
cranked on a shower across the room. Trowa watched him as he finished
rinsing himself off. Heero's back was to him now, and he was washing his
hair. Yuy was attractive, there was no getting around that, but Trowa
couldn't help comparing him to Merquise. Heero was hard muscled, covered
in fresh scars, a warrior, and damn attractive. But he was still a boy.
Merquise was a man.
Trowa shook his head and went to find a towel. It didn't matter, any of
it. Heero and Merquise would do what they had to in a few hours and Trowa
would act on the outcome. What had happened between him and Merquise was
just tension and hormones, and loneliness, too. It didn't mean anything,
but it had been good. It was what it was, and it was done. Before him
lay only duty.
All that was true. He harbored no romantic illusions. But as he pulled
his smelly clothes back on, he realized two things. He was warm for the
first time since they'd left Sicily, and he still wondered what Zechs
Merquise tasted like.
[ch. 7] [ch. 9] [back
to Pyrzm's fic]