Know Who I Want... + Part 4 (cont)
I lower my head again, this
time moving my mouth unerringly to one small, hard nipple. I wrap my lips
around it and suck hard, and am rewarded by a sudden tremor running through
the frame beneath me, and a startled, choked-off cry. I grin, even as
I continue laving his nipple. He didn't expect that.
"Did you kill those men to avenge your captain?" I ask after a few minutes.
"Duo…" Trowa groans, squeezing his eyes more tightly closed as his fingers
tangle in my hair, trying to pull my head back to his chest.
"Well?" I demand. He doesn't answer for a moment, and I wickedly blow
a stream of cold air across his damp skin.
"God! Duo!" he chokes.
"Did you kill them to avenge him?" I repeat.
"Yes. Yes. Duo…"
I move my mouth to his other nipple and award it the same treatment as
the first, my fingers playing with and teasing the one I just abandoned.
Trowa moans and his whole body twists beneath me, arching toward me, demanding
I run my free hand down his side, my fingers searching out the contour
of his hip bone. He groans more loudly as I touch him there. Weird erogenous
I lift my head. "Did you try to save the captain?" I demand, my fingers
stilled but lingering over the areas I'd been teasing.
"Jesus Christ, Duo," he grinds out. "Stop this. Just…"
"No more until you answer me," I insist, lifting my hands from his skin
all together. "Did you try to save him, Trowa?"
His eyes snap open, and the mixture of fierce desire and haunting torment
I see in those green depths almost shakes me from my plan. "I did,
Duo," he swears, "I tried." I hear the desperate need to be believed in
that despairing assertion.
"I know," I whisper, and I lean down and kiss him, my tongue insistently
swirling over and around his as my hand slowly slides over his hip to
caress the soft skin of his inner thigh.
He moans into my mouth as he kisses me back, his fingers slowly rubbing
We kiss for a long time, delving deeper and deeper into each other. I
feel my own body begin to make demands, and I push back, away from him,
while I still have the control to do it.
"Did that girl - what was her name?" I demand, trying to control my own
"I don't…Duo, don't…"
"What was her name?" I persist, sliding my hand slowly away, breaking
"Duo! Shit!" He swears, opening his eyes to scowl up at me.
"Her name, Trowa."
"Midii Une," he spits out, glaring angrily up at me even as he squirms
beneath me, trying to make me touch him.
I lean back a little, and wrap my hand around his straining arousal, pulling
firmly upward on the hard flesh.
He shouts, his eyes closing in reaction to the sensation.
"Did Midii Une trick you?" I ask.
He opens his eyes again, and again glares at me. "Duo…" he growls angrily.
"Did she trick you?" I demand relentlessly.
He snarls at me, shifting under me again, this time trying to dislodge
me. "Yeah, she tricked me," he snaps. "I'm an idiot. I fell for it and
made everyone else suffer. Happy now? Get off me and…"
"No," I say simply, running my thumb over the tip of his erection before
continuing to move my hand up and down in a slow, steady, rhythm.
"God, Duo, what do you want?" he chokes. "What am I supposed to…"
"I just want you to answer my questions," I tell him gently. My chest
aches for the pain I'm causing him. "She lied to you. Right?" I ask, my
hand stilling momentarily.
His eyes close again, and a shudder runs through his body as he thrusts
upward, into my suddenly lax fingers.
"Right," he grinds out between clenched teeth. "Now for God's sake, Duo…"
"Another question," I interrupt. "Is it my fault Sister Helen and Father
Maxwell died?" I told him and Heero the story of that old bitterness several
months ago. I didn't really want to, but…I had to, somehow. It was between
us - I'd felt it there, that old secret, separating me from the two people
I loved the most. I had to tell them.
It was awful - I felt the guilt and the loss I'd felt then, more intensely
than I'd felt it in years. But they didn't leave, they didn't blame me.
They both told me over and over that it wasn't my fault, that I'd been
trying to save them, that I was only a kid and wasn't responsible for
the actions grown men take in the middle of a war…They told me enough
times, in enough ways, over a long enough period of time, that by now…I
almost believe it. I believe it with my head, I feel the truth in my heart…But
stuff you carry around for that long doesn't go away immediately. And
so I don't expect Trowa to be rid of this guilt right away. I just have
to get him to accept the truth - that he isn't a wanton murderer - with
his head. I need to get him to make this first step.
"No!" he blurts, staring up at me as he makes the unconscious denial.
"Of course…oh!" His words get lost in a cry of pleasure as I resume my
"Why isn't it my fault?" I ask.
He shakes his head. He's no idiot - he knows where I'm leading and he
doesn't want to believe it.
"You were…you weren't responsible," he gasps. "Other people killed them."
I drive him on, further and further. I move upwards, positioning myself
above him, feeling the tip of his hardness against my entrance, and I
have to bite my lips to contain a groan of my own.
"Look at me, Trowa," I command, my own voice barely recognizable. "Open
Reluctantly he obeys. I reach down and hold his hips in place, keeping
him from moving, keeping us both on the edge of ecstasy. A sound remarkably
like a whimper escapes him, and I grin despite myself.
"You were lied to and tricked," I summarize. "You killed the other men
to save your captain, and you really tried to save him. You didn't know
that cross was a transmitter. Right?"
"Duo…" he gasps.
"Please…Duo, please just…"
"Right?" I insist loudly, ignoring his pleas.
"Ok," he gasps, his hands tugging insistently on my waist, trying to pull
me down onto him. "Now, please, Duo, just…"
Carefully, I lean down over his chest, careful not to allow him inside
me, not yet. I move my hands up from his hips and cup his face in my palms.
I stare deep into his eyes. "Trowa, recognizing all that….Is it your fault
that those men died?"
He stares back at me, suddenly still, his eyes stricken.
"Is it your fault, Trowa?" I press, my voice as gentle as I can make it.
He closes his eyes, but not before I see what he's trying to hide. "Duo…
I…I…" His voice trembles; he can't continue.
"Oh, Trowa," I whisper softly, lightly kissing him. I straighten back
"Look at me," I demand.
He slowly opens his eyes, and I see the turmoil within him. I capture
his gaze with my own and hold it as I slowly move down, and we moan together
as he slides inside me.
"It's not," I tell him quietly as I brace my hands on his chest. His hands
cradle my hips and we begin to move together, slowly. "It's not your fault,
Trowa," I tell him insistently as our pace increases. "It isn't. It's
not your fault. You tried to save him. You did what you thought best."
I assure him again and again as we move together - up and down, in and
out, more and more and faster and harder.
I lean over him, gasping in my pleasure, breathing hard against his neck.
He's taken control, demonstrating his incredible strength as he lifts
me up and down atop him. "It's not your fault," I whisper again. "You
were brave. You are brave." He cries out, moving harder and harder
inside me. The pleasure is too intense; I feel myself about to explode.
"You've always been brave," I whisper again. "I love you. God, Trowa,
I love you…so much…so…very…much…"
I completely lose track, forget my intentions, forget to speak as everything
suddenly erupts, the world breaking apart into little pieces of color,
almost unbearably intense pleasure flooding my body. Dimly, as from far
away, I hear Trowa shout - my name - and feel his pleasure erupt inside
Then I collapse limply on Trowa, and feel him roll us both to the side,
wrapping his arm around me and twining his legs with mine. I tuck my head
under his chin, burrowing against his chest, trying to hold on to this
closeness as much as we can.
After a long time I finally stir, sighing softly as I pull back a little.
I open my eyes and lift my head, and see him frowning thoughtfully down
I smile. "Hi," I say, rather inanely.
He doesn't reply; just continues staring at me with that pensive expression.
"Are you mad at me?" I ask tentatively.
He shakes his head automatically. "Why…why did you do that?" he asks slowly.
I shrug. "Lots of reasons," I say vaguely.
"Why?" he presses.
"Well, for one…I like touching you," I tell him, smiling.
He raises a brow at me but is unable to stop a small grin from touching
"And," I continue boldly, pleased so far at the reaction I'm getting,
"I wanted to show you that talking about things doesn't have to be painful."
The grin disappears as he stares at me, that lost expression on his face
again. My chest aches - did this backfire? Was it a bad plan after all?
Suddenly, to my amazement, he smiles again. "I don't know…some of it was
damn painful," he muses meaningfully.
I gape stupidly at him. Was that a joke? A sex joke, even? Couldn't possibly
He smiles wider at my speechlessness. He sighs, looks at the clock, and
reluctantly sits up, gently disengaging himself from my embrace.
"We have to hurry or we are going to be late," he says regretfully.
He gracefully pushes himself out of the bed, tugging me up with him.
"Damn lunch," I grumble, resisting.
"Quatre's been supporting us for a year," he reminds me. "We can eat lunch
with him if he wants us to." He pulls on my arm again, suddenly, jerking
me up against him. I gasp as my bare chest comes in contact with his.
He smiles, then releases me, slapping me lightly on the rump.
"Come on," he said, pointing toward the bathroom. "You said I could wash
I gape at him again. He wants to shower together? He wants to wash my
hair? Either this plan worked better than I ever imagined, or I've driven
"Come on," he insists.
"Trowa." I grab his arm, halting the procession to the shower. "Are you…ok?
You aren't…I mean, I didn't…"
He stops, and stares down at me. "I'm glad…you aren't all…on eggshells
with me," he says slowly. "I thought…" He shrugs, and I can almost see
him retreating back into uncommunicativeness.
Don't look gift horses in the mouth, Maxwell!
"Well," I say teasingly, "I'm just going to have to jump you more often.
Educational and enjoyable! Can't beat that!"
The troubled look slowly fades from his eyes, and he smiles at me again.
"We'd better get going or Quatre is going to beat us," he warns,
shepherding me toward the bathroom.
I can't quite hide the little grin of triumph I feel steal over my face.
And Winner thinks he's the strategist of our merry little band.
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