fic: Counting Coup NC17 3x2
Title: Counting Coup
Author: Seraphim Grace
Rating: NC17
Series: Gundam Wing
Pairings: 3x2x3
Notes: For Nekojita. Counting Coup is an ancient American Indian tradition, where instead of killing each other, they would simply touch, or count coup, I used that here. I gave Trowa Shadows hair and this is post canon by several years in which 3 + 2 have been in a relationship for years. Unbetaed
Warnings: Citrus flavoured fluff.
Duo Maxwell was up to something. It was a bit of an understatement. Duo Maxwell was always up to something. Trowa watched the way Duo was stalking him, like a leopard, with a wry amusement from under his bangs whilst pretending he didn’t see. Duo had been stalking him for upwards of ten minutes now. He was trying to do it surreptitiously, with fixed glances as he moved from the kitchenette of their small apartment, to the bedroom door, then slunk to the window.
Trowa hid his smile and pretended to read his book whilst watching Duo’s reflection in the television screen, listening for the soft exhales that were almost laughter. There was no malice in this. Duo was playing.
Trowa knew this game.
He waited until Duo was just to the side of him in the chair, just out of sight, and leapt himself to tackled Duo to the ground.
Duo saw the move almost before he made it and jumped back with a triumphant “Ha!” On jumping back he had overestimated the distance between him and the potted palm, losing his balance and almost falling. Trowa was on him in an instant.
He darted out of the way, more by being flexible and luck than skill or room to manoeuvre. “Usual rules?” he asked. “I catch you, I top?”
Trowa just grinned and then jumped back, almost falling over the arm chair he had been sat on as Duo lunged for him.
Trowa rolled to his feet and stepped over the coffee table. They had played this game before, and the stakes were irrelevant, he would let Duo top if he wanted, but Duo liked to have an incentive when he played, whether that was caramel milk instead of strawberry, or blue PowerAde instead of green. Duo would play for playing’s sake, but he much preferred to win.
Trowa knew that, but it didn’t mean he’d give in without trying to win just as hard, because he liked to win too.
Duo slipped out of his hands before he could close them and managed to upright the lamp in one particular move that had Trowa almost close enough to kiss him. A hand on the back of his overshirt had Trowa shuck it like a snake shedding it’s skin with a slip of the shoulders he had learned from his lover. Duo cursed it even as he laughed, throwing the shirt towards the laundry basket.
“Gonna be like that then, lover?” Duo said with a lunge, but Trowa saw it coming and darted out just as quickly meaning Duo had to bend back to avoid being caught. It made him look like he had no spine. He held his arms up to catch Trowa if he fell. Trowa had to catch himself quickly to prevent that even as he laughed.
“Always,” Trowa said stepping over him quickly and darting, backwards, towards the bedroom. He had an ambush in mind.
Duo was fast in pursuit, coming at him from the side, turning him towards the counter, Trowa knew it was coming and danced to the side turning them around giving Duo little room against the counter to move.
Duo answered with a laugh, jumping up unto the counter and swinging his legs around and taking the step back to the entrance so that he had his back against the front door. Trowa laughed at the ingenuity of it even as they circled each other and he found his feet slipping on the rug as Duo shamelessly drove him towards the front hall.
One of the reasons they had taken this small apartment had been its age. It had been part of a large old house that had been converted so it had all sorts of strange original features, including a keyhole doorway from the hall into the sitting room. The apartment was full of ancient wonders which always made Duo laugh with glee when he found a new one, whether it was a tile that had been papered over or a carved niche under a windowsill full of some child’s treasures. Trowa had simply liked the old parquet flooring. He might not admit it but Trowa lived for those moments.
Now he was being backed up against the door with no hint of giving in or allowing him an escape when Trowa pounced. Using the small table that sat beside the door as a foothold he launched himself up the wall and towards the arch of the keyhole door, grabbing it with both hands and sailing past Duo as his lover swore.
He mistimed his landing, arriving on the pink wool rug, a housewarming gift from Relena, and skidding straight to the wall, and the potted palm that stood there.
“Oh, god, Tro,” Duo said turning seeking to make sure he was okay, rather than continue the game.
Trowa got to his feet just as Duo came near and took the moment to win the game once and for all. He jumped up, catching Duo’s waist with his shoulder and straightening, with his lover in a fireman’s lift.
“And thus the Trowa,” Duo intoned seriously, sure now that Trowa hadn’t hurt himself if he still wanted to play, “upon catching it’s prey retreats to it’s lair for a serious ravishing.”
“Are you complaining?” Trowa asked as he carried him into the bedroom.
“Absolutely not at all,” Duo said, “you’re not hurt beyond a few bruises are you?”
Trowa made a show of crumpling under Duo’s weight as he threw him on the bed. “I’ve done worse closing a car door,” Trowa said in a show of masculine strength. It was ruined by the mischievous twinkle in his eyes and the fact that Duo had his hair-tie in his hand, meaning Trowa’s ponytail, a request from Duo, was now loose about his face.
Duo laughed, “you look like Cousin It.”
Trowa was mock offended, with one hand to his chest, “I’m not the one that needs to wrangle the werewolf in the shower trap.”
Duo sat up, “and you don’t help grow them in there.” He threw his braid over his shoulder as Trowa started to crawl up his body. “I don’t know, when we got together I thought you were quiet.”
“Hn,” Trowa said before he stuck his tongue out at him.
“Don’t do that,” Duo chided grabbing handful’s of Trowa’s soft dark blonde hair and pulling him closer, “unless you intend to put it to good use.”
“And who says I won’t.”
“Well,” Duo flipped them over so that he was on top, straddling Trowa on the patterned quilt, a housewarming gift from Sally, “You keep talking when you could be ravishing me.”
“Ah, the Duo beast shows it’s true stripes at last.” Trowa said slipping his hands into Duo’s loose braid, “the ridging down it’s spine made me think it might be a shy creature, but really it’s wanton.”
“Wanton,” Duo said pulling his sweater over his head, disentangling Trowa’s hands from his hair as he grinned “horny, one of the two.”
“good,” Trowa said, slipping out of his own shirt, and then lowered his mouth to Duo’s.
Kissing Duo was always wondrous and new. Trowa had once compared it to a dog sniffing its paw at the end of a long summer day. Duo was still unsure whether or not he liked the comparison although Trowa had meant it well. It was always new things to discover, new nuances to his taste, to his breath, to the texture of his tongue, the smooth slickness of teeth, the way his face fit against Trowa’s as he tried to press more and more of himself into the kiss. His hands were buried in Trowa’s hair, which was the main reason Trowa never let it be cut shorter than it was now, because he loved the feel of Duo’s hands bunching in his hair. He loved the feel of Duo arching up or down to kiss him. He loved the feel of his lips and the sometimes gravel of stubble. He loved the callused hands that even now were slipping from his hair, as their owner suckled on his t tongue, down his back, to slip into his pants and cup his ass.
Sex with Duo was like storming the moon base with nothing but a hand rifle and a flash bang. It was adrenaline and war and fire and release.
It was the best the world had to offer, and sometimes in the quiet dark if they huddled together like newborn cubs that was okay too, because he understood, because he had been there, and because he smelt of pride and love and want and need.
He made quick work of Duo’s trousers because he wanted to lie against his skin, rough with scars and the coarse hairs of his thighs. He wanted to bury his face in the juncture of arm and chest and breath in deep of the chestnut coloured hairs he found there. He wanted to rub his cheek against the soft skin of his inner thigh, rich with his scent, and scrape his teeth over his balls. He wanted to bring his leg up to lick the creases at the back of Duo’s knee.
Duo, however, wasn’t that passive a lover. He wanted to touch, to lick, to bite, to kiss just as much as Trowa, and he was slippery. Trowa rolled him over so he was underneath, his legs parted and their crotches pressed deliciously together through layers of fabric, “hold still so I can ravish you,” he admonished, “or do you want me to tie you down?”
Duo chuckled, “Maybe later.” He said, “and if you hurried up I wouldn’t be so eager.” Deft thumbs undid Trowa’s button fly and a warm hand slipped inside, wonderfully rough. These were a man’s hands, used to machinery and skinned knuckles, and the thought surged through Trowa’s blood as he bore down on that hand, on those thick fingers even as he struggled with Duo’s belt.
“Too many clothes.” Trowa snarled burying his face in the curve of Duo’s neck, using his teeth and tongue to try and devour Duo whole, to make him part of him, to take him inside himself that they might never be parted. Duo fascinated and completed him. He was reminded of the lines of a poem that he breathed along Duo’s neck, “I believe right now if I could, I would swallow you whole.”
“Damn right,” Duo murmured as he always did to Trowa’s declarations of love, then he ran coarse palms over his nipples, “now lets get naked.”
Trowa found himself naked in moments, a wonder that was solely Duo’s, except for a pair of socks which caused the laughter to bubble up even as Duo slipped out of his own jeans. “What?” Duo asked, “I haven’t got lucky charms stuck in my belly button again, have I?”
“Socks,” Trowa managed, “I’m naked in socks.”
“Well get them off,” Duo said pushing him on the chest, “I aint gonna let my ravishment be by some man that’s naked in socks, it’s embarrassing.” But Trowa knew he was joking as he rolled unto his side to reach his feet.
“Well, I got ravished by a man with lucky charms in his navel.” Trowa said, “and that might be worse than socks.”
“Nah, that was just over enthusiastic breakfast food sex.” Duo said and pulled him over for another kiss, “now you have those accursed socks off, ravish me.” He lay back with one arm above his head, the other making designs against his navel, possibly checking for more marshmallows with his fingertips. He was heavy lidded and hard, looking like the promise of a huge meal to a starving man and Trowa simply had to take a bite.
A quick kiss on lips and then down to the golden expanse of his chest, tongue flickering at nipples as a hand rolled around the balls that hung heavily between Duo’s thighs. Duo gasped as his thick fingers slipped back into Trowa’s hair, he was feeling indulgent, Trowa knew, to allow him to ravish him without ravishing in return. He was also impatient as the other hand, the one that had toyed with his stomach muscles was even now rooting around under the pillow for the bottle of lube that they had left there this morning.
He considered the lube to be the ultimate in consideration, in that it was self warming so no longer did either of them have to suffer that instant of freezing lube on warm skin.
He squeezed an amount unto his own hand and with the other, pulled Trowa up, “watch me, Tro,” he husked and reached down between his own legs, “I’m not in the mood for it to be drawn out today,” he hissed as he slipped a finger inside, “in fact, lover, I want you to fuck me, I want you to fuck me so hard that the bed breaks, that we end up in old Mrs Whittaker’s downstairs, I want this,” his other hand surrounded Trowa’s cock with warm slick lube, “as far inside me as it will go, and when it’s done, I want to go again.” His grin was devilish, “now fuck me.”
Duo knew what reaction his bedroom talk had on his normally taciturn lover. He could see the fire that was always banked in his eyes when he looked at Duo blaze, he could feel the burning heat of his erection between his legs angling him, lifting his hips. It was a wondrous sight, Trowa knew, watching Duo’s fingers between his own legs, reaching so deep inside him as his palm caressed his balls and his wrist rubbed against his heavy erection.
Could anything be hotter, Trowa thought, than the braided leather bobbing on his wrist as his fingers dipped and pressed and smoothed and withdrew. Could anything compare, he wondered, to the sight of this strong, virile male spread out before him, wanting him. “Want me?” Duo asked, “take me, fuck me, make me scream.”
So Trowa did, turning Duo so he was on his hands and knees, his face buried in his forearm Trowa pushed inside him, then when he had settled when Duo’s pants had slowed slightly, he took him by the biceps and pulled him back.
It was an unusual position which allowed deeper penetration and it showed. Duo’s head was lashing back and forth, his hands held away from his cock and Trowa’s engaged in pulling him back, making the world centre on the sensation inside him, the slip the slide, the push the pull, the burning fullness.
“God,” Duo started to pant, “oh god, god, more, please god, more, Tro fuck me, fuck me Tro, oh god, Tro fuck me!”
Trowa was silent during sex except for the vocalisations he couldn’t quite control, the grunts and groans that escaped him and he could see Duo’s back arch, trying to force more of him inside, trying to bring their heads together, trying to bend that way on his own so his hands were free, so that he could touch, or kiss. “Oh God!” And just like that Duo came.
Duo always came quickly, but he had a wonderful recovery time. He slumped forward as Trowa let him slip from his hands, collapsing unto the bed and the patterned quilt, with a murmur pleasure as Trowa rocked lazily against him. This was how Trowa preferred it, slow and patient.
Eventually Duo started to rock back again, rubbing himself against the comforter and his hands flailing uselessly to pull Trowa deeper as he murmured and groaned and licked his lips trying to get more.
They came together the second time and Trowa wiped them down with the wet wipes left on the bedside table, balling them up and putting them in the bin, he even washed the sweat from Duo’s hairline and neck, kissing him as he looked at him lying there, his hair scrambled and his face red, his eyes languorously half shut. “Tro,” he murmured, “gonna have a nap, then again, kay?”
Trowa didn’t say anything, he knew he was the only one Duo hunted, and sometimes, he didn’t mind being caught.
Author: Seraphim Grace
Rating: NC17
Series: Gundam Wing
Pairings: 3x2x3
Notes: For Nekojita. Counting Coup is an ancient American Indian tradition, where instead of killing each other, they would simply touch, or count coup, I used that here. I gave Trowa Shadows hair and this is post canon by several years in which 3 + 2 have been in a relationship for years. Unbetaed
Warnings: Citrus flavoured fluff.
Duo Maxwell was up to something. It was a bit of an understatement. Duo Maxwell was always up to something. Trowa watched the way Duo was stalking him, like a leopard, with a wry amusement from under his bangs whilst pretending he didn’t see. Duo had been stalking him for upwards of ten minutes now. He was trying to do it surreptitiously, with fixed glances as he moved from the kitchenette of their small apartment, to the bedroom door, then slunk to the window.
Trowa hid his smile and pretended to read his book whilst watching Duo’s reflection in the television screen, listening for the soft exhales that were almost laughter. There was no malice in this. Duo was playing.
Trowa knew this game.
He waited until Duo was just to the side of him in the chair, just out of sight, and leapt himself to tackled Duo to the ground.
Duo saw the move almost before he made it and jumped back with a triumphant “Ha!” On jumping back he had overestimated the distance between him and the potted palm, losing his balance and almost falling. Trowa was on him in an instant.
He darted out of the way, more by being flexible and luck than skill or room to manoeuvre. “Usual rules?” he asked. “I catch you, I top?”
Trowa just grinned and then jumped back, almost falling over the arm chair he had been sat on as Duo lunged for him.
Trowa rolled to his feet and stepped over the coffee table. They had played this game before, and the stakes were irrelevant, he would let Duo top if he wanted, but Duo liked to have an incentive when he played, whether that was caramel milk instead of strawberry, or blue PowerAde instead of green. Duo would play for playing’s sake, but he much preferred to win.
Trowa knew that, but it didn’t mean he’d give in without trying to win just as hard, because he liked to win too.
Duo slipped out of his hands before he could close them and managed to upright the lamp in one particular move that had Trowa almost close enough to kiss him. A hand on the back of his overshirt had Trowa shuck it like a snake shedding it’s skin with a slip of the shoulders he had learned from his lover. Duo cursed it even as he laughed, throwing the shirt towards the laundry basket.
“Gonna be like that then, lover?” Duo said with a lunge, but Trowa saw it coming and darted out just as quickly meaning Duo had to bend back to avoid being caught. It made him look like he had no spine. He held his arms up to catch Trowa if he fell. Trowa had to catch himself quickly to prevent that even as he laughed.
“Always,” Trowa said stepping over him quickly and darting, backwards, towards the bedroom. He had an ambush in mind.
Duo was fast in pursuit, coming at him from the side, turning him towards the counter, Trowa knew it was coming and danced to the side turning them around giving Duo little room against the counter to move.
Duo answered with a laugh, jumping up unto the counter and swinging his legs around and taking the step back to the entrance so that he had his back against the front door. Trowa laughed at the ingenuity of it even as they circled each other and he found his feet slipping on the rug as Duo shamelessly drove him towards the front hall.
One of the reasons they had taken this small apartment had been its age. It had been part of a large old house that had been converted so it had all sorts of strange original features, including a keyhole doorway from the hall into the sitting room. The apartment was full of ancient wonders which always made Duo laugh with glee when he found a new one, whether it was a tile that had been papered over or a carved niche under a windowsill full of some child’s treasures. Trowa had simply liked the old parquet flooring. He might not admit it but Trowa lived for those moments.
Now he was being backed up against the door with no hint of giving in or allowing him an escape when Trowa pounced. Using the small table that sat beside the door as a foothold he launched himself up the wall and towards the arch of the keyhole door, grabbing it with both hands and sailing past Duo as his lover swore.
He mistimed his landing, arriving on the pink wool rug, a housewarming gift from Relena, and skidding straight to the wall, and the potted palm that stood there.
“Oh, god, Tro,” Duo said turning seeking to make sure he was okay, rather than continue the game.
Trowa got to his feet just as Duo came near and took the moment to win the game once and for all. He jumped up, catching Duo’s waist with his shoulder and straightening, with his lover in a fireman’s lift.
“And thus the Trowa,” Duo intoned seriously, sure now that Trowa hadn’t hurt himself if he still wanted to play, “upon catching it’s prey retreats to it’s lair for a serious ravishing.”
“Are you complaining?” Trowa asked as he carried him into the bedroom.
“Absolutely not at all,” Duo said, “you’re not hurt beyond a few bruises are you?”
Trowa made a show of crumpling under Duo’s weight as he threw him on the bed. “I’ve done worse closing a car door,” Trowa said in a show of masculine strength. It was ruined by the mischievous twinkle in his eyes and the fact that Duo had his hair-tie in his hand, meaning Trowa’s ponytail, a request from Duo, was now loose about his face.
Duo laughed, “you look like Cousin It.”
Trowa was mock offended, with one hand to his chest, “I’m not the one that needs to wrangle the werewolf in the shower trap.”
Duo sat up, “and you don’t help grow them in there.” He threw his braid over his shoulder as Trowa started to crawl up his body. “I don’t know, when we got together I thought you were quiet.”
“Hn,” Trowa said before he stuck his tongue out at him.
“Don’t do that,” Duo chided grabbing handful’s of Trowa’s soft dark blonde hair and pulling him closer, “unless you intend to put it to good use.”
“And who says I won’t.”
“Well,” Duo flipped them over so that he was on top, straddling Trowa on the patterned quilt, a housewarming gift from Sally, “You keep talking when you could be ravishing me.”
“Ah, the Duo beast shows it’s true stripes at last.” Trowa said slipping his hands into Duo’s loose braid, “the ridging down it’s spine made me think it might be a shy creature, but really it’s wanton.”
“Wanton,” Duo said pulling his sweater over his head, disentangling Trowa’s hands from his hair as he grinned “horny, one of the two.”
“good,” Trowa said, slipping out of his own shirt, and then lowered his mouth to Duo’s.
Kissing Duo was always wondrous and new. Trowa had once compared it to a dog sniffing its paw at the end of a long summer day. Duo was still unsure whether or not he liked the comparison although Trowa had meant it well. It was always new things to discover, new nuances to his taste, to his breath, to the texture of his tongue, the smooth slickness of teeth, the way his face fit against Trowa’s as he tried to press more and more of himself into the kiss. His hands were buried in Trowa’s hair, which was the main reason Trowa never let it be cut shorter than it was now, because he loved the feel of Duo’s hands bunching in his hair. He loved the feel of Duo arching up or down to kiss him. He loved the feel of his lips and the sometimes gravel of stubble. He loved the callused hands that even now were slipping from his hair, as their owner suckled on his t tongue, down his back, to slip into his pants and cup his ass.
Sex with Duo was like storming the moon base with nothing but a hand rifle and a flash bang. It was adrenaline and war and fire and release.
It was the best the world had to offer, and sometimes in the quiet dark if they huddled together like newborn cubs that was okay too, because he understood, because he had been there, and because he smelt of pride and love and want and need.
He made quick work of Duo’s trousers because he wanted to lie against his skin, rough with scars and the coarse hairs of his thighs. He wanted to bury his face in the juncture of arm and chest and breath in deep of the chestnut coloured hairs he found there. He wanted to rub his cheek against the soft skin of his inner thigh, rich with his scent, and scrape his teeth over his balls. He wanted to bring his leg up to lick the creases at the back of Duo’s knee.
Duo, however, wasn’t that passive a lover. He wanted to touch, to lick, to bite, to kiss just as much as Trowa, and he was slippery. Trowa rolled him over so he was underneath, his legs parted and their crotches pressed deliciously together through layers of fabric, “hold still so I can ravish you,” he admonished, “or do you want me to tie you down?”
Duo chuckled, “Maybe later.” He said, “and if you hurried up I wouldn’t be so eager.” Deft thumbs undid Trowa’s button fly and a warm hand slipped inside, wonderfully rough. These were a man’s hands, used to machinery and skinned knuckles, and the thought surged through Trowa’s blood as he bore down on that hand, on those thick fingers even as he struggled with Duo’s belt.
“Too many clothes.” Trowa snarled burying his face in the curve of Duo’s neck, using his teeth and tongue to try and devour Duo whole, to make him part of him, to take him inside himself that they might never be parted. Duo fascinated and completed him. He was reminded of the lines of a poem that he breathed along Duo’s neck, “I believe right now if I could, I would swallow you whole.”
“Damn right,” Duo murmured as he always did to Trowa’s declarations of love, then he ran coarse palms over his nipples, “now lets get naked.”
Trowa found himself naked in moments, a wonder that was solely Duo’s, except for a pair of socks which caused the laughter to bubble up even as Duo slipped out of his own jeans. “What?” Duo asked, “I haven’t got lucky charms stuck in my belly button again, have I?”
“Socks,” Trowa managed, “I’m naked in socks.”
“Well get them off,” Duo said pushing him on the chest, “I aint gonna let my ravishment be by some man that’s naked in socks, it’s embarrassing.” But Trowa knew he was joking as he rolled unto his side to reach his feet.
“Well, I got ravished by a man with lucky charms in his navel.” Trowa said, “and that might be worse than socks.”
“Nah, that was just over enthusiastic breakfast food sex.” Duo said and pulled him over for another kiss, “now you have those accursed socks off, ravish me.” He lay back with one arm above his head, the other making designs against his navel, possibly checking for more marshmallows with his fingertips. He was heavy lidded and hard, looking like the promise of a huge meal to a starving man and Trowa simply had to take a bite.
A quick kiss on lips and then down to the golden expanse of his chest, tongue flickering at nipples as a hand rolled around the balls that hung heavily between Duo’s thighs. Duo gasped as his thick fingers slipped back into Trowa’s hair, he was feeling indulgent, Trowa knew, to allow him to ravish him without ravishing in return. He was also impatient as the other hand, the one that had toyed with his stomach muscles was even now rooting around under the pillow for the bottle of lube that they had left there this morning.
He considered the lube to be the ultimate in consideration, in that it was self warming so no longer did either of them have to suffer that instant of freezing lube on warm skin.
He squeezed an amount unto his own hand and with the other, pulled Trowa up, “watch me, Tro,” he husked and reached down between his own legs, “I’m not in the mood for it to be drawn out today,” he hissed as he slipped a finger inside, “in fact, lover, I want you to fuck me, I want you to fuck me so hard that the bed breaks, that we end up in old Mrs Whittaker’s downstairs, I want this,” his other hand surrounded Trowa’s cock with warm slick lube, “as far inside me as it will go, and when it’s done, I want to go again.” His grin was devilish, “now fuck me.”
Duo knew what reaction his bedroom talk had on his normally taciturn lover. He could see the fire that was always banked in his eyes when he looked at Duo blaze, he could feel the burning heat of his erection between his legs angling him, lifting his hips. It was a wondrous sight, Trowa knew, watching Duo’s fingers between his own legs, reaching so deep inside him as his palm caressed his balls and his wrist rubbed against his heavy erection.
Could anything be hotter, Trowa thought, than the braided leather bobbing on his wrist as his fingers dipped and pressed and smoothed and withdrew. Could anything compare, he wondered, to the sight of this strong, virile male spread out before him, wanting him. “Want me?” Duo asked, “take me, fuck me, make me scream.”
So Trowa did, turning Duo so he was on his hands and knees, his face buried in his forearm Trowa pushed inside him, then when he had settled when Duo’s pants had slowed slightly, he took him by the biceps and pulled him back.
It was an unusual position which allowed deeper penetration and it showed. Duo’s head was lashing back and forth, his hands held away from his cock and Trowa’s engaged in pulling him back, making the world centre on the sensation inside him, the slip the slide, the push the pull, the burning fullness.
“God,” Duo started to pant, “oh god, god, more, please god, more, Tro fuck me, fuck me Tro, oh god, Tro fuck me!”
Trowa was silent during sex except for the vocalisations he couldn’t quite control, the grunts and groans that escaped him and he could see Duo’s back arch, trying to force more of him inside, trying to bring their heads together, trying to bend that way on his own so his hands were free, so that he could touch, or kiss. “Oh God!” And just like that Duo came.
Duo always came quickly, but he had a wonderful recovery time. He slumped forward as Trowa let him slip from his hands, collapsing unto the bed and the patterned quilt, with a murmur pleasure as Trowa rocked lazily against him. This was how Trowa preferred it, slow and patient.
Eventually Duo started to rock back again, rubbing himself against the comforter and his hands flailing uselessly to pull Trowa deeper as he murmured and groaned and licked his lips trying to get more.
They came together the second time and Trowa wiped them down with the wet wipes left on the bedside table, balling them up and putting them in the bin, he even washed the sweat from Duo’s hairline and neck, kissing him as he looked at him lying there, his hair scrambled and his face red, his eyes languorously half shut. “Tro,” he murmured, “gonna have a nap, then again, kay?”
Trowa didn’t say anything, he knew he was the only one Duo hunted, and sometimes, he didn’t mind being caught.