Quick feet clattered through the hot and narrow alleys of the old part of Marrakech, their owners brought to flight by the sudden rainstorm that relentlessly pounded down on the citizens. It was as if the sky itself had opened to drown mankind again, and through close gates, up tight stairs, two young men hurried forth over the wet, cobbled passages, urgently seeking their elusive rescue. The unyielding rain, perhaps somewhat unexpected in this part of the world, washed away the drifting desert sand from the stone covered street stones, polished into smooth mirrors by countless feet throughout thousands of years of use. The melody of heavy raindrops on tin roofs and cobblestones drowned out the sound of human activities until only a soft pattering could be heard. Soundlessly, the rain washed over the only two foolish humans daring to defy its might. A quick turn to the left, and the hasting couple found themselves at the goal for their sudden run - a lush garden belonging to one of the city's finer hotels. Coming to a halt under a palm tree, they sought shelter from the deluge. Panting breaths slowed down, mingled with the symphony of raindrops, to then disappear into nothingness. They watched each other in silence for a few moments, until a low laughter interrupted the low pattering serenade, and the blond spoke. "I told you it would rain," he announced triumphantly. The green eyed youth peered cautiously over at his companion, considering his words carefully before speaking. "You cheated," Trowa finally informed him seriously, feigned indignation colouring his voice, as he leaned back against the rough stem of the tree. Watching Quatre for a reply, Trowa wiped water out of his face with the sleeve of his soaked shirt, an act that only worsened the state of his now non-existent hairstyle. Another laugh from the blond, and he knew exactly what was so amusing; Quatre had already mentioned 'drowned cat' once before... Trowa leant over and stole a quick kiss as a compensation for the unspoken and unintended insult. "You missed important intelligence. That's what happened," Quatre finally replied, before he added, "should've listened to the weather forecast, shouldn't you? Therefore... I win," with a sweet smile that was impossible to resist. Even though he tried not to, Trowa couldn't help the slight upward quirking of the corner of his lips. Outwards, it was still the best "I don't really care"-face anyone could ever hope to accomplish, but Quatre would've learned the finer nuances of his non-expressions by now. There was no point denying it - on more than one occasion the blond had proved to be able to tune in on his minuscule mood swings with frightening accuracy, nothing escaped the watchful teal eyes, now least of all. Leaning over the shorter young man, Trowa let the inner smile show to allow Quatre to visually confirm what he already must've known, and Quatre mirrored his expression, his whole being lighting up in a smile that Trowa thought must radiate nothing less but pure love. He moved closer to brush his wet cheek against the blond's, to engulf himself in the brightness emanating from Quatre, happily drowning in whatever feeling was given to him - love, affection, or simply warmth. Wet lips briefly touched Quatre's ear to murmur his inevitable capitulation. "Claim your prize," breathed into Quatre's ear, the words were but a mere exhale, and then he withdrew, demurely averting his eyes to avoid Quatre's steady gaze. His damp fingers absently trailed across the wet fabric of Quatre's shirt that stuck to his skin. Thin, wet, like it wasn't there at all, but warming up under his fingers, the fabric left preciously little to his imagination. It stuck and unstuck as the soaked boy's chest heaved underneath it. Mesmerised by the half-transparent, crinkled fabric - all he wanted to do was to hold Quatre that tight, feel the warm body against him. Quatre only watched him, smiling softly. Running a finger along the shorter boy's jawline, and then tracing the contour of the lips, he caught a raindrop as it made its slow way down across Quatre's flushed face. He sampled the flavour of the single drop of water against his lips, and found it tasted suspiciously like Quatre. Dazedly, he traced the fine lines of Quatre's ribs; slowly moving his hand upwards the sides, before brushing a thumb over a cloth trapped nipple made hard by the cold, or maybe it was by his hands. Quatre let out a little sensual gasp. "Kiss me," Quatre begged with a tiny shiver. Gladly obeying the softly spoken order, Trowa pressed his lips against Quatre's rain soaked ones, nibbling gently at the lower lip, sampling more of Quatre flavoured rain drops before slipping inside. He tasted the blond, explored him with increasing heat, mapping out the different textures of Quatre again and again. Quatre's hand found its way around his neck, pulled him closer, and he allowed his world to fade into nothingness for a few precious moments, as his mind once again lost itself into the silken heat of Quatre. Trowa pressed his body against Quatre's, wrapped his arms around the shorter youth's waist, and felt the evidence of the rapidly building desire pressing against his thigh. Quatre groaned into his mouth as Trowa rubbed against him, teasing the cloth-trapped, heated length. Vacant eyes gazed back at him as he eventually released Quatre. "Trowa... they're watching, let's go inside," Quatre put his hands on Trowa's chest, pushing him away slightly as he peeked over the taller one's shoulder. They hastily moved through the French doors leading from their bedroom to the garden, stopping only after the intruding eyes were gone. Warm hands, as a contrast to their cold clothes, advanced over wet clothing, heating up both of them. Trowa put his hands to Quatre's shirt buttons, and bent down to take the alluring lips under his. The warm, yielding mouth made him fumble with the buttons, before Quatre's nimble fingers helpfully aided him with the task of removing the shirt, and then his own. Breathless, he held Quatre close again, skin against skin. * * * Making love with Quatre was always an experience that involved all of him; no senses were left untouched by the sensually inclined blond. Every time was like the first, and Trowa marvelled at the strength of the emotions Quatre extracted out of him with only slight effort. A kiss behind his ear, a slowly moving finger across his bare forearm, or a whispered word was all it took to forget everything but Quatre - to hear Quatre, taste Quatre, feel Quatre... Only Quatre. A rain soaked kiss, and the world outside had vanished in a blur. Quatre's soft sighs echoed through the room, and pulled him into the warmth again, into the indescribable state of wholeness, body and soul. His legs wrapped tighter around Quatre's waist, drawing them closer together as his lover's hot mouth sought out his. Drugged kisses and the rhythmic waves of quietly burning pleasure washed over him, steadily guiding him towards fulfilment. With the tiniest of moans, he once again surrendered to the cascade of feelings that took control of him, blanking out all conscious thought. Helpless as the fire raged out of control, he collapsed mentally, physically; exhausted in a way only Quatre could accomplish. * * * Trowa placed a tender kiss on Quatre's sweat dampened shoulder, carefully lowering the now slumbering blond onto the cool, white sheets. For a while he just sat there, watching the pale apparition by his side. The blond hair, now dry but mussed up by their activities, lay like a halo around the peaceful face, heightening the eerie feeling of an unearthly presence. He reached out a hand, touching the slightly parted lips, and felt Quatre's warm exhale against his fingertips to confirm what his mind sometimes doubted; Quatre was real, made of flesh and blood, not a vision created by his sensory starved mind that yearned for so much more. Fingers twirled the golden locks, brushed through the silky stands, before he reached out to pull the white sheet over the sleeping form, slowly dragging the cloth over the naked back. Lying down, he rested his head on an arm, and traced Quatre's spine with his fingers. Simply watching the other occupant of the bed, his eyes focused on the calm face less than a hand's width away from him. The orbs of Quatre's eyes, hidden behind closed eyelids, caught his attention; their movement indicated that the young man was already dreaming. Trowa wondered of what, as he watched the thick eyelashes, a few shades darker than the rest of his hair, move along with the eyes behind the closed lids. His visual journey across Quatre's face continued, past the gently curving cheeks, still painted with a slowly fading rosy blush, leading him to the sensuous mouth. Slightly moist, the pinkish lips were only parted enough to allow the sleeping blond to breathe with ease. Every line in their texture seemed familiar to him, and being apart from them suddenly hurt. He reached out to touch them, as if they were a sorely needed balm for his soul. Warm fingers traced the delicate lips, followed the thin contour of the jawline, but stopped before they reached the slender neck. His callused fingers weren't sensitive enough. Slowly, he bent forward and pressed careful lips to the junction between cheek and neck. Quatre's pulse vibrated against him, and before the thought had reached his conscious mind, he had kissed the warm area, nibbled it gently. He withdrew, waiting for any signs that the blond may have woken up, but Quatre only let out a slightly deeper breath. Trowa brushed against the moist mark, and followed the throbbing vein down to the shoulder, where it slowly disappeared into the warmth of Quatre. The first vertebra of the unsuspecting blond's back appeared from behind a lock of golden hair, and he kissed it gently, feeling the skin move over the little mound. Slowly moving downward, he repeated the process on each of them, and Quatre let out a little sigh of contentment. Trowa's lips quirked upwards the slightest bit in amusement of the sleeping blond's behaviour, as he moved down over the pale back, his fingers tracing the areas he had kissed so tenderly only moments ago. Quatre's warm skin was smooth as silk under him, and Trowa imagined that the faint flavour on his lips was a sample of the pure essence of Quatre, something that always were there. Breathing it deeply, Quatre's scent, his flavour, Trowa's eyes drifted shut, a shivering gasp caught in his throat, heart suddenly racing. Steadying himself before continuing, he nibbled on another vertebra, and a little moan escaped Quatre's lips, this time more consciously than before. Trowa stopped, having explored more than half of Quatre's back before the blond noted it. "...mngh, feels good," mumbled words, and the blond's eyes fluttered open. His hand rested on Quatre's slim waist, slowly painting circular patterns with his thumb over the fair skin, waiting for the blond to stop him, turn around, or go back to sleep. When Quatre did nothing but settle himself more comfortably into the mattress, Trowa continued his journey across the prone form underneath his hands. The sheet that covered the warm body slowly slid downwards as he caressed it out of the away to expose the rest of Quatre's back to his eyes. Trowa's lips continued their journey over the curved back, down over the plains of the small of Quatre's back, and stopped to hover over the thin sheet now covering only Quatre's rear. Quatre's breaths came in deep, slow gasps, and he arched up into the light touch of the blanket as Trowa slid it off his behind, leaving him completely naked. Positioning himself between the spread legs, Trowa bent down to part Quatre's cheeks to kiss the last vertebra. The instinct that ordered him to once again join with Quatre the most intimately possible way, almost took control over him, and only a conscious effort of his will helped him fend it off. He took a deep breath, and then more following it, before he trusted himself again. Manoeuvring Quatre's hands to help him in his exploration, Trowa made the blond grasp his own rear and part the cheeks further. He put his hands over Quatre's, spreading the blonde widely apart, making him understand what Trowa wanted him to do. Quatre tensed, rubbing himself into the mattress as his breathing came faster, as he understood. The skin where Quatre's slender legs met each other was soft and smooth beneath Trowa's lips. He flicked his tongue over the sensitive area, and Quatre responded more powerfully this time, whimpering into the pillow. He made Quatre part his buttocks even more, to better reach the hidden sensitive spots, touching the narrow entrance with his tongue, then with slick fingers. Quatre held his breath as Trowa inserted one, then more fingers into him, preparing him, and he stretched himself further, nails digging into his own flesh. It seemed to Trowa, that everything he did had a profound effect on Quatre, and the awoken desire rubbed of on himself too, his own craving fuelled by the gasps, the pliant skin, and the mere sight of Quatre on the bed, legs spread widely apart. Trowa trailed kisses all the way back up to the back of Quatre's neck, before he gently lay down on the blond like a blanket, covering the slighter body under his. The smooth legs parted for him even more as he settled between them and pressed his erection against Quatre's rear. As Trowa pushed inside of Quatre again, he had to close his eyes, the mindless pleasure of the tight grip of Quatre's welcoming body threatening to send him immediately over the edge. "Trowa...uh!" a raw whimper slipped past Quatre's lips as Trowa embedded himself deep into the waiting body with one single, slow thrust. Holding himself still, Trowa felt the desperate grasp of Quatre's body clutching his length, before finally relaxing and letting go of the tight grip. Quatre let out a breath, and nodded once into the pillow, eyes closed. Trowa pressed a kiss at Quatre's cheek, before gently withdrawing again, eliciting more groans from the blond. They moved slower this time, with less raw lust than that needed to be instantly taken care of. He took his time observing the different textures of Quatre, how it felt as the blonde clutched tightly around his aching desire, how the smooth skin of his thighs constantly brushed against him, caressed him. Quatre responded to his every touch, arching his back against Trowa as he let out little lustful gasps and moans. So sensitive, the blond found pleasure in every gentle move, responding in kind to Trowa's slow thrusts. Trowa's world faded again as he focused solely on their ragged breaths, his rapidly beating heart, and the heat where their bodies joined. All he could do was to bury himself in Quatre's welcoming body, again and again. And as he pushed Quatre over the edge into mind numbing pleasure, Trowa followed his blond lover without a thought, closing his eyes as the white lightning coursed through his body again. Quatre moaned softly as he emptied his passion into the thrashing body under him, caught up in his own raging fire. After long, Trowa rested his forehead on Quatre's shoulder, slowly sliding out of and off the blond. He threw an arm and a leg over the still heavily breathing young man, half covered by his damp body, and barely managed to press his lips against Quatre's, murmur a word of affection, before he fell into the familiar warm void as sleep claimed his mind. * * * It was almost dark as they woke up again, the slowly setting sun sending its molten orange rays through a window by the ceiling. They lay still for a while, content with the closeness of the other, on this their last vacation day. Sleep-tangled limbs and sheets gave way only after an effort of sheer persistence, and they laughed as they dropped them in a mess on the floor, racing each other to the bathroom. The sun would inevitably dawn on a new day, their holiday would be over, but this was not on their minds, as only the crickets chirping in the distant garden reminded them about the world outside. -end- |