Reverand Maynard Warnings: NC-17; LEMON; yaoi; 6x3 Disclaimer: I have no legal rights, only stock in perversion. Sweet Delay ~Ring.~ The front door of a sizable apartment opened hastily, the light from the hallway spilling in as a tall man stepped into the room. ~ Ring. ~ A light switch was turned on, flooding the room immediately, lighting the man's path. Keys were dropped onto a nearby table, a black blazer draped haphazardly over the back of a chair. ~ Ring. ~ "Hello?" "Zechs. I thought I might have missed you. Did you just get in?" The voice on the other end was slightly jumpy and staticky but unmistakable to its receiver. "Yes. Where are you?" "On my way. Traffic." "Ah." "I picked up something." A smile graced the man's lips, "Did you, now?" "Mmmhmm." "How long will you be?" "Hmm . . . forty-five, an hour maybe. I think there's an accident ahead." "Oh." "You'll wait up?" "Of course." + There were very few things that Trowa Barton truly found funny. But after the brief conversation with Zechs, hanging up his cell phone and attempting to concentrate on the road, he found himself very near to laughter. The thing that struck him was the sudden realization of exactly how simple his life had become in the past year, the year spent with Zechs. Before Zechs, there was life. He was born, he would die, and life was the disappointment in between. Someone had once told him that life was a gift. A horribly wretched idea if you asked him. Before Zechs there was an annoying job, loathsome chores, and a variety of self depreciating hobbies. Before Zechs there was uncertainty, bitterness, and an unrelenting streak of boredom. Before Zechs there was Heero and Duo and Wufei, all with varying, yet unfulfilling degrees of affection. Before Zechs . . . there was loneliness. Trowa sighed contentedly, watching the fat rain droplets zig-zag down the windshield of his unmoving car. He smiled. He hated traffic. And now, after Zechs, there was only one thing he rushed home for, one thing that made him smile, one thing that cleared away all the other shit and showed him, for the first time, an out. "Zechs," Trowa breathed the name heavily to himself. His groin began to ache at the mere thought of his lover. The patterned sounds of the rain and the darkness enveloping him, lulled him into sensation. The seat-back he leaned against became a broad chest and he pushed against it. An errant hand slipped from the wheel and onto his thigh but he stilled it immediately. He thought of the beautiful creature awaiting him on the other side of an ocean of cars. Anticipation could often be as enjoyable as the act and he would not dull tonight for anything. He moved to put his hand back on the wheel, but changed his mind at the last second and laid it on the horn instead, pushing hard. The car screamed loudly, just as he wanted to but dared not. There were very few things that made Trowa Barton antsy . . . + Almost and hour later, the door to the apartment opened again, this time permitting entrance to a tall but slighter man than the first. He, unlike his lover, was not wearing a suit and tie. Instead, he wore jeans and a sweater, their color darkened several shades from the rain. He dripped soundlessly on the carpet. He dropped his keys, their mail, and a slim, unadorned box onto an end-table and almost called out to the apartment's other occupant. Then, as he looked toward the sofa, he realized he didn't have to. Zechs lay peacefully on the large sofa in the middle of the room. He was still dressed from work, his tie only loosened and not removed, falling off to the side of his chest. One shoe was gone completely, the other, dangled precariously from his toes, as if he'd been in the process of toeing it off when sleep had claimed him. One arm rested on his chest, the other was slung above his head where his hair fell over the arm of the couch, grazing the floor. His face was peaceful, his breathing even, and his mouth was open just slightly. Trowa dripped silently. Even in such a vulnerable position, the man he loved was still beyond sexy. He let his eyes roam over the impossibly long figure, lean and chiseled in all the right places. His suit hid most of his virtues but one with a trained eye could pick out each and every sensuous angle and curve. And then there were a few that only those with a very intimately trained eye knew the significance of. With that in mind, Trowa formed a most wicked plan. + "Ohhhh, Dr. Zechs!" Trowa stood several feet in front of him, his nurse's uniform smaller and tighter than any he'd ever seen. He turned his back to the dashing young doctor, craning his neck so as to peer at him over his shoulder. He bent slowly as he spoke. "I'm behind on my vaccinations, Dr. Zechs." The tiny skirt he wore was no cover for the upturned ass, and Zechs became privy to the knowledge that his favorite nurse did not favor undergarments. "Could you give me an injection, Dr. Zechs?" The question was punctuated by a tiny slap to a soft pink cheek and Zechs's cock jumped at the sound. "Pleeeeaassee . . ." Zechs grunted in response, moving swiftly toward the creature of fantasy and lust, led more by his cock than his feet. The flushed face beckoned him again and he grew harder as he watched cherry lips open wide, saying his name, green eyes closing in ecstasy as if he were already inside that wanton vehicle of fulfillment. And then, inches away, something stopped him. He felt a heavy force pushing against him, forcing air from his lungs. He struggled against it, desire fueling his attempts. Nurse Trowa turned to him, startled, concern painting his pretty face. "Dr. Zechs . . .?" Zechs grasped at the tenuous air around him, fingernails clawing at nothing, making every attempt to stay. "T--trowa!" And then he opened his eyes. The world around him was real, not the skewed realm of his fantasies. And most importantly, the man straddling his stomach, the thing that had woken him and was causing him to breathe a bit shallow, was very real. He blinked at sparkling green eyes. "You're awake." Trowa said as if surprised, and as is he--kneeling over the other man's stomach, one knee at each side, his ass grazing a hardening erection--had nothing to do with it. It took Zechs a moment to fully take in the situation. "You're home," he said with a yawn and a stretch and Trowa smiled when he heard the man's other shoe fall off and hit the floor, "what time is it?" "Around ten." Zechs grimaced, "Sorry for not waiting up, I--" he paused, and gave an adorable look of faint surprise, ". . . you're not wearing any clothes." Trowa just smiled. Indeed, he was quite nude, had been for some time. He'd stripped himself of his wet clothes and had walked around the apartment, picking at his dinner, appreciating his lover from different angles and practicing his own self control. He had been enjoying the sweet delay for such a long time that his hair was nearly dry. Zechs basked in the warmth of that most wicked of grins and moved his hands to rest on Trowa's toned thighs. He let his eyes dance over the planes of the other man, appreciating every inch just as he had been unknowingly admired earlier. "It's staring at me," he growled, meeting the gaze of Trowa's penis lying flat against his chest. "It doesn't look very happy to see me." Trowa smiled again, "We've been working on our self control. Gotten good don't you think?" "Too good." Zechs replied. "Can't say the same for you," Trowa teased, rocking back on his knees and rubbing his ass against Zechs's ever-hardening bulk. "And I hope you never will," Zechs shifted as he spoke, lifting his hips a bit to greet that teasing touch. When he stilled, he turned his attention back to his dilemma. "What's this?" He asked, fingering the hem of the silky material tied around Trowa's shaft. It was white with big red polka dots and fashioned into a bow. He couldn't help but run a taunting finger down the other man's length as he asked the question. There was no response except a flicker across his face and a little nibble at his lower lip. And Zechs didn't miss the moment of hesitation in his response. "It's for you. To replace the one we tore a few weeks ago," his words were only slightly breathy. Zechs smiled, "The one we tore was solid black, not. . ." he tugged on the article, watching for a greater reaction but was rewarded only with one similar to the last, ". . . polka dotted." Trowa shrugged, "I like it." "It's nice." "I think it's sexy." "I love it." With that, Zechs lifted himself up, crushing his lips against the other man's and gathering him to him. The kiss was familiar and loving, yet none the less intense. Zechs mentally cursed the fabric barrier between himself and his love and after a long breathless moment he pulled away to remove it. "Wait." Trowa stopped him before he reached the second button. Zechs's fingers stilled as he waited for Trowa's reasoning. Trowa didn't speak but gently pushed Zechs back down onto the couch, slapping Zechs's fingers away any time they came too near. Silently, he rose from Zechs's lap, the polka dotted handkerchief still tied around his flaccid member, and began the process of divesting Zechs of his clothing. He undid his shirt buttons and spread it open, careful not to touch Zechs directly, and to not remove it entirely. The tie still hung loosely about his neck. And then he moved to his pants, unzipping the fly and tugging a little at the waist. He pulled them down but not off, leaving Zechs still trapped just beneath a layer of cloth. Zechs watched with no little irritation. He loved Trowa, there was no question. He also wanted to fuck Trowa senseless, certainly no question. But this--this slow, detached display, it was unnerving and so unlike his lover. "Trowa--" "Shhh," was Trowa's only answer as he slung a lanky leg back over the other man's lap. He sat down carefully, making sure that Zechs could distinguish between the different textures and warmths as his sat his naked flesh on him, his balls, his cock, his ass. He could feel Zechs tremble beneath him. Trowa reached behind him and rummaged through the opening at Zechs's pants. When Zechs felt that velvety body atop him again, he was renewed with excitement. He wasn't sure who Trowa was trying to torture, himself or Zechs, but he knew that for his part at least, he was doing quite a good job. And then Trowa's fingers wrapped around his aching erection and pulled him free from his trousers. Zechs gasped as he felt those bony fingers on him and Trowa fondled his length, running his fingers along the underside, gently rubbing his testicles from time to time. All of this served to make Zechs doubly hard and he panted ruggedly. Trowa watched, face calm. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Zechs felt Trowa move again, and then those deft fingers were gone. His eyes shot open. Trowa was there, leaning in to kiss him even as his hands were busy elsewhere. Zechs knew they weren't on him and had a good guess as to what they were doing. Moments later, he heard something small hit the floor, and Trowa's hands were back on his erection, this time they were slick and swift. He moaned into the other man's mouth. Trowa smiled. He leaned up out of Zechs's reach and lifted himself from his seated position. During this, he had not stilled his hands and now he gripped the turgid organ, squeezing a little and making Zechs moan. Then, without preamble, Trowa sunk himself onto Zechs's steely shaft and the larger man cried out hoarsely. Zechs was swimmimg in his own mind. He hadn't expected Trowa to be so eager, certainly hadn't expected him to control the moment, and the sudden tight heat that sheathed him was already moving in a half rhythm. He fought to control his excitement. Trowa was bobbing up and down now, leaning forward a little and pushing off of his knees. Zechs's length filled him incredibly well, just as it always did. And every stroke, no matter how much he tried to avoid it, hit that most precious of sweet spots. It was taking all of his concentration not to succumb to ecstasy. He would not give this time. He would not be the first to collapse. He always was and always felt as if he'd let his lover down somehow. That was why he'd been so intent on his self-conrol. But tonight--he clenched his muscles a bit and quickened his pace, smiling at the noises he was drawing from the bigger man--tonight he would win. Zechs felt the other man tighten above him, felt him quicken his pace. He opened his eyes to look at Trowa's face and found a most disturbing thing. He wanted--no, expected to see Trowa's usually placid face awash in crazed ecstasy, eyes closed and mouth open in ragged, panting breaths, just as it always was when he was being thoroughly fucked. Instead, Trowa moved above him, jaw clenched, eyes squeezed tightly in what looked to Zechs to be -- concentration? He looked at his partner's cock, still wrapped in the silk handkerchief and only half hard. Suddenly, their lovemaking became a lot less enjoyable. Trowa was still fighting hard against his body's natural instincts when he felt strong hands grasp his sides and lift him fully into the air, causing Zechs to slip out of him. He opened his eyes quickly. "What's wrong?" he asked as he moved from Zechs's grasp to stand on his own feet. Zechs stood as well, forcing his painfully hard erection back into his pants so as not to look ridiculous when he spoke, "You." Trowa looked hurt, "What--why?" The couple stood less than a foot apart, one looking up, one looking down, as Zechs was fully a head taller. "What are you trying to prove, Trowa?" Zechs's voice was soft and his touch softer as he reached a hand to a burning cheek. "I'm not trying to prove anything, I--I just thought it would be better for you if I . . .if I lasted longer." Somehow the words sounded absurd when he said them outloud. In his mind they'd made perfect sense. But obviously, Zechs hadn't liked the idea. He wasn't sure why but the look of disappointment on his lover's face made it more than obvious. "I'm sorry." Zechs watched as Trowa apologized, averting his eyes from Zechs's. 'He was trying to please me,' he thought to himself, 'doesn't he know he does that every moment I'm with him?' Indeed, Zechs's heart grew lighter every time Trowa entered a room, entered their home, spoke his name. There was rarely a time when Trowa was around that Zechs was not pleased. He thought of Trowa's apology again and swung the other man's chin to face him. "You'd better be," he growled. Trowa's face was one of a little alarm as Zechs grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him down. His knees buckled and seconds later he found himself splayed atop their coffee table, legs spread vulnerably. "You see, Trowa," Zechs began his speech from his perch on the floor between Trowa's knees, "this is a mutual situation." He crawled atop Trowa, hovering largely over the slighter, much more nude body. Trowa shivered at the husky rasp in his voice and the feel of silky, golden locks whispering over his bare skin. "I fuck you . . .," Zechs purred against Trowa's lips, running a hand down his side, " . . .you get fucked . . ." his hand continued it's descent, playing now at Trowa's inner thigh, " . . . and we all come happily ever after." Trowa was still fighting the inevitable, though every touch from the other man made it more and more difficult. Zechs's hand moved again, taking hold of the handkerchief and tugging the knot out of it. Trowa bit back a moan as the material slipped easily away and Zechs threw it to the side. "And you will come, Trowa," his voice was commanding, as was his hand and Trowa's restraint finally broke. He quickly became fully hard in the man's grip at Zechs's last words, "I will make you come." Having nothing more to say at the moment, Zechs put his mouth to better use, licking and kissing down Trowa's throat, running his tongue over pink nipples, delving into a navel. Trowa felt the travel of Zechs mouth on him. It seemed as if Zechs were everywhere at once, all tongue and lips and hair. God he loved that hair. He ran his palms though it now, grabbing handfuls and tugging, pushing, massaging. Zechs was an exquisite lover, what had he been thinking when he'd thought to delay this?! He hadn't. He decided he could only think clearly with Zechs's mouth on him. And ohhhh . . . it was! Zechs swallowed Trowa to the hilt, accepting his lover deep into his throat. He heard the other man cry out and laughed wickedly around his treat, hoping for the same response as he sucked eagerly. He was not disappointed. Trowa moaned again, over and over, in fact, pushing his hips upward until they met resistance against commanding hands that held him to the table. 'Fine,' he thought to the man wrapped around his cock, 'have it your way,' and he tightened his grip on Zechs's head and began pushing him harder onto him. It was a move he regretted a moment later when Zechs pulled away altogether. "Suddenly so eager to have our finish are we?" Zechs teased as he licked his lips and crawled back atop the other man. "Remember," he said, kissing Trowa's bottom lip, "this is a mutual arrangement." Trowa saw the gleam in Zechs's eye and so he was prepared when Zechs caught him around the middle and tumbled with him off of the table, onto the floor. Zechs immediately began stripping himself from his last vestiges of clothing. Trowa helped eagerly. Moments later, Zechs was as naked as his lover, save for the tie that Trowa had asked him to leave on, and the lubricant he'd spread liberally over his thick cock. Trowa knelt before him, ass upturned and peering over his shoulder. Zechs only hoped he wouldn't call him 'Dr. Zechs,' lest he lose all control and hurt the slightly smaller man. "What was my part in this arrangement again?" Trowa asked, pushing backward, nudging his tight cleft against the tip of Zechs's cock. Zechs smiled, "You, my sweet . . ." he gripped slim hips tightly and positioned himself for entrance, " . . . get fucked." With those last word he thrust into Trowa, the penetration all the more delicious than it had been earlier, simply for knowing that Trowa was not holding back. And he definitely was not. Trowa moaned at Zechs's first entrance, reveling in his lack of inhibitions. He'd decided for certain that he had been insane earlier and that there were perhaps two occasions on which he could think clearly: in Zechs's mouth; and with Zechs inside him. And certainly, if pleasure were thoughts, then he was having an epiphany. "OH GOD!" Trowa screamed, slamming himself backward against his lover as Zechs worked up a frantic and crashing rhythm. The glowing heat of the friction inside him was overtaking his entire body. Just as Zechs had been all tongue earlier, he was now all cock. Zechs's hair floated around him, jerking with his lover's thrusts, and the tie grazed over his back to match the rhythm. They continued like this for what seemed like an all too short eternity. Zechs grunted with each snap of his hips, shouting out every now and then, the intensity inside him building. Trowa's body was siphoning his reserves, beckoning release. He reached around Trowa, grasping his neglected erection, and somehow deepened his thrusts. The double assault threw Trowa for a loop and he fought to hold out just a bit longer. Zechs was pounding him hard now, pushing him forward into his hand. Zechs fucked him, he fucked Zechs's hand, it was all quite splendid. And then it happened, Zechs gave a sudden shout, filling his lover with his seed. The shock of it sent Trowa into his own orgasm, spilling his essence over Zechs's hand and the carpet below. He heard Zechs moan again with the last tremors of his release. And as the other man withdrew and collapsed beside him, he let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. + The sated couple lazed sleepily on the floor, blanketed only by each other's flesh and a substantial amount of blond hair. Trowa fondled a few strands, smiling broadly even as he yawned. "You're gloating aren't you?" Zechs asked him. "Maybe," Trowa answered. It was the first time he'd managed to outlast Zechs, even if it was only by a fraction of a fraction of a second. He felt it was a reason to be somewhat proud. "Well," Zechs continued good-naturedly, kissing Trowa's brow, "gloat away, my beauty. You were triumphant." Trowa thought for a moment. 'Speaking of triumphs . . .' "Did you like your gift?" "Mmmm, the 'kerchief? Well, I didn't at first but I think it's growing on me." "Will you wear it to work." "Yes, tomorrow in fact." Zechs smiled, "Though it may be hard to concentrate--remembering where it's been." Trowa returned the smile, "You mean you'll be hard, remembering where you've been." Zechs laughed a little and pulled his lover closer to him, "Quite true, my lovely. Quite true." end [back to the Reverand's fic]