* * *

The next morning Quatre came downstairs to find Trowa already in the kitchen, sipping coffee and reading the newspaper. The blonde set a teapot full of water on to boil, and slid into a chair next to his lover. They usually spent their mornings here, curled up in their cozy breakfast nook; as compared to the more formal dining room.


"I had the strangest dream last night," Quatre said, yawning widely.


Trowa set down his paper, and took a sip from his cup. "Good or bad?"


"Oh, very good, just strange."


The teapot began to whistle, interrupting Quatre. The blonde hauled himself up and made his morning cup of tea before sitting back down and continuing. "I was dressed as Alice, from the book, and I was wandering through the woods. Then I came to a clearing and you were there, lounging naked in a giant tea cup. And you said: 'Join me in a cup of tea?' And I said: 'You're my cup of tea.' There seemed to be a tea theme."


Trowa smiled. "I noticed that." The brunette looked pointedly at the tea Quatre was tentatively sipping. "Maybe you should switch to coffee."


Quatre grimaced. "No, thank you. Besides it was a good dream. You were naked and we did all sorts of bad things in that tea cup." He leaned down and blew into his tea, trying to cool the steaming liquid.


Trowa scooted a little closer. "Is there something you're trying to tell me?"


Quatre looked up. "What do you mean?"


Trowa shrugged, a smile playing on his lips. "I don't know. You were Alice.. I was naked in a tea cup.. That sounds rather nice, so long as the tea wasn't too hot. I could, perhaps, be persuaded to perform a live action version of that."


Quatre laughed. "Oh, you could be *persuaded*, eh? I'm sure. I'd actually be more interested in the whole- I'm Alice, you're the March Hare, kinky tea party fun."


"Oh, really?" Trowa's eyes sparkled in delight. "I'm sure we could arrange that. How long would it take you to get everything you needed?"


Quatre looked thoughtful. He hadn't really expected anything to come of that late night conversation last night, but now that it had.. "I'm sure I can have everything by the end of the week."


Trowa nodded. "That's plenty of time for me to get what I'll need as well. Let me handle the dining room, all right?"


Quatre raised his eyebrows. "Have an idea, do you?"


Trowa smiled mysteriously, and pulled Quatre out of his chair and onto his lap. "I always have ideas where you're concerned. In fact," the brunette reached around the blonde and picked up something off the table, "I'm having an idea right now."


Catching only a glance at the container, Quatre had no clue what was coming until the scent of ripe strawberries wafted to him. "No! Not again! It took me forever to get that off the last time! It's so sticky..."


The response to that was a soft chuckle, and a warm tongue skating over his ear. "But it tastes even sweeter when I lick it off you.."


Quatre tried to protest, but it was hard when his lover's hands were questing under his shirt and easing it over his head. He shivered slightly as the body heated material was removed and his skin was exposed to the cooler air. His nipples began to harden under the temperature change, and Trowa's fingers smoothing the sticky red substance on them brought them to full erection. Quatre tried one last ditch effort, before the taller boy's fingers had a chance to cover more.


"I thought it was jam tomorrow, jam yesterday, but never, *ever* jam today." [2]


Lowering his head, Trowa wrapped his mouth around a strawberry slathered nipple and bit down gently. "The White Queen never had a Quatre to eat her jam off of. Trust me, she would have served jam with every meal if she had."


Blue green eyes slipped shut, and the blonde arched his back, bringing his chest closer to his lover's mouth. "You'll have to clean me off later."


"I plan to clean you off now."


Breakfast was forgotten as the jam made a lovely makeshift finger paint, and Quatre's body a stunning cream colored canvas.

* * *

Saturday dawned drizzly and gray. The weather was unusual for May, normally it was sunny and warm, but today it was cool and rainy. It wasn't exactly the atmosphere the lovers had envisioned, but since they had no plans to leave the house the weather made little difference to them.


Quatre awoke to the wonderful sight of Trowa serving him breakfast in bed. Usually Quatre *was* Trowa's breakfast, but since they had a full day planned they decided to save their energy for later. While the blonde sipped at his morning tea the brunette informed him that he was relegated to their room, and could not, under any circumstances, wander into the other regions of the house. Quatre grumbled a bit, not too happy about being stuck in their room for a portion of the day. But Trowa kissed his nose, and promised it wouldn't be too long. From the way his green eyes were already glittering with excitement Quatre knew it would definitely be worth the wait.


They sat around for a while, spending a lazy morning lounging in bed. Their demeanor gave no evidence to the fact that in a few hours they'd be engaged in an erotic version of a classic children's story.


Trowa finally stretched and stood, ready to commence with the game at hand. He gave his lover a deep kiss, and collected the breakfast dishes. With a wink, and a sinful smile he was gone, leaving Quatre with an already racing heart and rising arousal. The blonde groaned and buried his face in the pillows. He forced himself up and began to stretch. It was something he did every morning, a way for him to keep his muscles loose and limber. And now it had the added benefit of relaxing him and taking his mind off Trowa, and the things he had planned.


Somehow the simple stretch turned into a more active workout. Quatre had a bit of energy he needed to work off before getting ready so he channeled it into exercise. He was limited, as he was stuck in his room, but he managed quite a few sit-ups and even more push ups. His fair skin was slightly sweat damp by the time he was done, and he cooled down by stretching afterwards. Trowa wasn't the only flexible one anymore.


Looking at the clock the blonde saw it was getting close for the time to him to get ready. Quatre decided it would be a good idea to take a shower before getting dressed. He would undoubtedly need another shower later, as he and Trowa always seemed to make quite a mess, but he needed one now as well. With a smile on his lips, and excitement thrumming through his body the blonde turned the water on and stepped under the spray. He shivered at the cool water washed over his skin. He normally liked his showers piping hot, but he hoped that the cold water would keep his body in check. For a while at least.


He stepped from the bathroom sometime later, after a long shower, and thoroughly drying his body and hair. He walked into the bedroom, his outer calmness contrasting with the fast beating pace of his heart. He kneeled under the bed and pulled out a huge clothing box. He placed it on the bed and removed its lid. Inside was his complete costume. He took out everything, and laid the items gently on the bed. Slowly he began the task of getting dressed.


First he slipped on a pair of brand new, pure white panties. They were the softest of cotton, almost silky to the touch. He decided against ruffles, or any other sort of decoration. They were just plain, bikini cut panties. Next he tugged on a pair of white thigh high tights. He really would have preferred socks, but the tights complimented the outfit perfectly, so he struggled with the stretchy fabric. He was worried they would fall down, but for the moment they seemed content to stay in place. Hopefully he wouldn't have to wear them for long. After those were on, he donned a skirt of white netted petticoats. It was layer upon layer of the thin, fishnet material. It was a little scratchy, but not enough to really bother him. And when he put his dress over it, they would hold the skirt out perfectly.


He picked up his dress, and slid it over his head. It was longer than usual; it would have hit his knees if not for the layers of petticoats he wore under it. The dress was a lovely shade of blue; not too dark, but not too light either. It's short, puffed sleeves ended on his upper arm, and once he managed to zip it, it hugged his slender figure. He adjusted the simple rounded collar of the dress before donning a fresh white pinafore. He slid the straps up his arms, and made sure they laid flat on his shoulders. The pinafore was a little difficult to tie, as it tied in the back, but he managed well enough.


He smoothed the pinafore and dress down, making sure to ease out any creases. Then he sat on the bed, and buckled the simple black leather Mary Jane's he had chosen to wear. And finally he placed a black silk headband in his hair. Quatre walked to the full length mirror on the far side of the room. He turned from side to side making sure everything was in place. He smiled at the reflection. His blond hair framed his face, and his eyes twinkled with merriment as he looked over his ensemble. With his heart hammering, and his body already feeling a shade too warm he left the bedroom and made his way to the dining room; where the real fun would begin.

* * *

Quatre smoothed down his pinafore once more, and brushed a stray lock of hair from his face. He didn't know why he was suddenly so nervous; he had suggested this game after all. But his heart was beating erratically in his chest, and his hands were shaking in anticipation. He made his way through the kitchen, but stopped short when he reached the entrance to the dining room. It wasn't exactly what he had imagined when he had proposed the idea. He had been thinking the room would be decorated garishly; with mismatched colors, and gaudy decorations. He had pictured a bright, sunny room with an air of utter chaos and silliness.


Instead, it was just the opposite. The drapes had been pulled shut, so not a beam of light could shine through. The chandelier had been placed on the lowest setting, casting nothing but a dim glow in the room. Thin, silken strands of cobwebs were wrapped around the chandelier in abundance; muting what feeble light it was giving off. A few stray strands were hanging down, the gossamer strings swaying slightly in the air. The webs were also present in the corners of the room, suspended from the ceilings, and working their way down the walls. And that was just the beginning.


The dining room table, long enough to seat a dozen, had been transformed as well. The chairs around it were normally gleaming with cleanliness, and the table covered by a spotless tablecloth. But today the chairs looked old, and un-cared for. The wood appeared dull, and ancient. And the tablecloth on it now might once have been white, but it had discolored into a dingy yellow; and looked to be quite moth-eaten.


The only thing close to what Quatre had pictured was the multitude of tea pots scattered all over the table. There was a huge variety of teapots. Some were tiny, and looked to be from a child's tea set. Some were ceramic, and shaped like different kinds of animals. Some were plain copper, some were metal; no two were alike. But even they differed from what he had imagined. They all looked to be antique, not shiny like he had imagined they would be. And they were all covered by a thick layer of dust. Dust also blanketed the teacups, and saucers that sat in front of each chair.


Once Quatre had taken in the room his eyes moved to his lover. Trowa was sitting at the head of the table. The chair that was normally there had been removed. In it's place was a huge, overstuffed chair of red velvet. The velvet had faded from its original bright red, and Quatre could see a few holes had been ripped into the upholstery. Trowa was leaning back into the chair, his feet propped up onto the table. The green eyed boy was leisurely drinking tea from a chipped tea cup.


Quatre's eyes roamed over Trowa's lean figure. The taller boy was dressed in a suit that looked to be at least fifty years old. When it had first been made it was probably a bright plum color, but time had dulled the shade into a more subdued burgundy. The cuffs of the coat were frayed, and as Trowa lifted his arm to drink Quatre could see a hole in the elbow of one sleeve. When Trowa set the cup down Quatre got a better view of the rest of the outfit.


The brunette was wearing a plain, button down white shirt. It was so worn the material was almost transparent. Over that was a button down vest that matched the rest of the suit. The blonde could see the gaps where a few of the buttons were missing. The whole suit looked shoddy, and threadbare. Like Trowa had been wearing it for the last decade or so. Even the brunette's shoes looked outdated. They were black, and covered with dirty white spats. The only thing that didn't match with the rest of his clothing was the pair of ears that sprouted from his hair. They were light brown and fuzzy looking. One ear stood straight up, while the other flopped over and rested against Trowa's chestnut hair. The rabbit ears appeared to be real, almost like Trowa had suddenly grown them.


Quatre understood what Pip must have felt like at first seeing Miss Havisham. [3] Trowa looked like he had been sitting there for years, waiting for tea party guests that had never arrived. Quatre suddenly felt out of place in his pristine clothes; their bright colors were like a beacon in the darkness. Trowa, however, blended in with the decor. His attire seemed perfectly matched with the almost melancholy atmosphere, while Quatre's wardrobe seemed to contrast the room entirely.


Trowa picked his cup up and took another sip. He seemed completely relaxed, unlike Quatre who felt like there were a million butterflies swarming in his tummy. The brunette set his cup back on the saucer, and let his green eyes fully peruse the fidgeting blonde. "No room," he purred.


Trowa's voice was rich like melted honey, and Quatre could almost feel the words caressing his skin. Shivers raced up and down his spine, and his breathing sped up. Something about the way the room was decorated, and the clothes Trowa was wearing, was affecting him. It wasn't how he had pictured everything; it was more.. seductive. And if he didn't get some control over himself he was going to climax the next time Trowa spoke.


Quatre took a deep breath, and tried to calm his racing heart. He raised his eyebrows, and looked around the table. "There's plenty of room," he said haughtily.


Quatre walked primly into the room and pulled out the chair next to Trowa. He sat down, and brushed the dust from his tea cup.


Trowa smiled at him lazily, and shook his head. "I said, no room."


Quatre motioned to all the empty chairs, and said indignantly, "There's no one else here, so there's plenty of room." [4]


Trowa slid his feet off the table in one fluid movement. He leaned closer to Quatre, his green eyes half lidded as he stared at the blonde. "There's no room. If you'd like to stay I'm afraid you'll have to sit on my lap."


The Arabian raised his head proudly. "Fine."


He stood and moved to Trowa's side. The taller boy leaned back in the chair and patted his lap. Rising to the unspoken challenge Quatre slipped between the table and the chair, and settled himself on Trowa's lap. Even through the layers of petticoats and his skirt, he could still feel the distinct bulge that was evidence of Trowa's enjoyment. Trowa wrapped his hands around the blonde's waist and hauled him back so that Quatre was pulled up tight against his body. It was all the Arabian could do not to moan as he felt Trowa's arousal; hard beneath him, and felt Trowa's arms; strong around him.


Trowa was in the same predicament. Ever since Quatre had walked into the room, looking lost and positively delicious, he had wanted to grab the blonde and make love to his luscious lover. The Arabian looked stunning garbed as was. But it wasn't the dress, or the pinafore, or any of that that turned Trowa on so much. It was Quatre himself. Even though he was dressed as Alice, he still exuded his utterly masculine sexuality. The blonde might be wearing a dress, and tights, but he was unmistakably male, unmistakably Quatre.


Trowa didn't know how long he could keep up the pretense of this game. Quatre was just too beautiful, and arousing. It was hell to have the blonde on his lap and not run his hands all over his supple, perfect body. He took a few steadying breaths, making sure to blow his exhales over Quatre's neck, and ears. He knew just how that affected his lover. Sure enough, the blonde shivered in his arms.


"Would you like some wine?" Trowa asked, his voice low, and sensual. As he spoke he leaned in, and his lips just grazed the top of Quatre's ear. One of the brunette's arms moved from around Quatre's waist. His free hand came to rest on the blonde's knee, just below his skirt.


Quatre was ready to forget the game, and just beg to be taken. He was already so hard, and aching to be touched. When he had felt Trowa's hot sweet breath hit his ear, his nipples had instantly risen to firm peaks. But he wanted this game to last, though Trowa wasn't making it easy. Quatre looked around the table, forcing himself to focus on that instead of the pressure of Trowa's hand on his knee. All he saw on it's surface were the teapots. "I don't see any wine," he commented, his voice husky with desire.


Trowa slid his hand up Quatre's leg a little, just barely moving under his skirt. "That's because there isn't any."


Quatre fought the urge to melt under Trowa's hands. Instead he straightened his posture, and pretended to be offended. "Well, it was very rude of you to offer it, then!"


Trowa laughed softly, the timbre of his voice low, and erotic. "Well, it was very rude of you to sit down without being invited." [5] As he spoke his hand crept higher, stopping when it reached Quatre's upper thigh. He began to slowly stroke the soft skin there with feather light caresses.


Quatre couldn't help spreading his legs, beckoning Trowa's hand to continue its journey. The brunette kneaded his leg softly in reply. Quatre's eyes slipped shut. The touch was so simple, merely Trowa's fingers ghosting over the delicate flesh, but even that slight touch made the blonde's legs quiver.


"You know just because I sat down without being invited doesn't mean that you can molest me." His protest was feeble at best. The quaver in his voice belied his true desire.


Trowa's soft, wet tongue played along his ear, as his deep, rich voice whispered into it. "Actually my dear, that is exactly what that means."


Trowa stopped what he was doing, and pulled his hand from under Quatre's skirt. The hand that was around the blonde's waist was removed as well. Quatre's breath caught; for a moment he feared that Trowa was actually going to stop. But then Quatre felt Trowa's hand brush against his arm as the brunette pulled something from the pocket of his jacket.


The green eyed boy held up something in front of Quatre's eyes. Dangling from Trowa's fingers was a long length of white silk.


"This, my lovely, was a present from my friend Humpty-Dumpty. It's his most favored of cravats; a present from the White King himself. It was given to him for his un-birthday." [6] He laid the fabric on Quatre's lap, keeping it's intentions unknown for the moment.


Trowa shifted Quatre forward, just enough so that he could reach the zipper of the blonde's dress. He pulled the zipper down slowly; the grating sound it made caused both boys' breath to quicken. Trowa parted the soft blue fabric, revealing Quatre's alabaster back to his hungry gaze. The dress slipped down Quatre's shoulders slightly, taking the pinafore with it; the neckline coming to rest just below his collarbone. The green eyed boy leaned down and pressed a wet kiss to the back of Quatre's neck. His hands slid inside the dress, and moved around to the blonde's chest. They ran up and over his flat stomach before seeking out Quatre's erect nipples. Trowa's slim fingers teased the buds, caressing them softly until they ached with tension.


Meanwhile, the brunette's mouth was moving about the creamy flesh in front of him. He kissed along one of Quatre's shoulders, nipping lightly as his fingers squeezed the Arabian's nipples. Quatre responded with a low moan, his body shifting in Trowa's lap as the sensations began to overtake him. Trowa took his hands from inside the dress, and yanked it down Quatre's arms. The blonde struggled to free himself from the sleeves, finally succeeding. Between the two of them they managed to bare the smaller boy's upper body; leaving the dress, and pinafore, bunched around his waist.


Then Trowa retrieved the almost forgotten cravat from where it lay resting. The taller boy pulled his lover's arms behind his back, and tied them together loosely at the wrist. He tugged on the fabric, making sure it wouldn't bind too tightly. He wanted Quatre to be restrained, but not in pain.


Once he was satisfied with it, he took hold of Quatre's shoulders, and turned the boy on his lap. The blonde lifted his legs and slung them over the arm of the chair, then he leaned back so that his back was supported against the opposite arm. The chair was padded so fully that his position was actually quite comfortable. Quatre was now resting sideways across Trowa's lap with one side pressed against the brunette's chest; his arms trapped helplessly under him.


The taller boy wound an arm under his lover's back, sliding it between Quatre's back, and his bound arms. The other arm snaked over Quatre's bare waist, and under it. Trowa's hands were splayed across Quatre's spine, making it easy for the brunette to lift the blonde's chest closer to his hungry mouth. He was set on devouring the delectable cream colored skin before him.


Trowa lowered his head, and drew a stiff pink nipple into his mouth. Quatre gasped, his body instinctively arching into the touch. The Arabian involuntarily tugged at his bonds, as his body jerked under the sensation. Trowa twirled his tongue around the tight little bud, and bit it gently. The blonde cried out, as Trowa's teeth teased his stiffened nipple. He pulled the cravat tight, as he struggled, trying to keep in close contact with his lover's mouth. Trowa continued to lavish his nipple with his mouth, his arms tightening around Quatre; making sure his treasure didn't escape. The taller boy lazily licked a trail from that nipple to its twin, enjoying the way Quatre squirmed on his lap as he did so. As Quatre shifted, the blonde's hands unknowingly brushed over and over the green eyed boy's erection; making it swell larger and harder than it already was.


Trowa moaned sensually as he took the second nipple into his mouth, and bit down. Quatre shrieked in surprise, his body jerking at the unexpected stimulus. Trowa soothed the flesh with his tongue; kissing and licking it better. Quatre sighed sweetly in response, his body melting Trowa's arms. The taller boy lifted his head, panting lightly due to the intense arousal that only Quatre's body could cause.


The brunette took a moment to enjoy the view of his lover spread out so wantonly across his lap. Quatre's body was lax in Trowa's arms, totally trusting his lover, even though he was bound. His blue green eyes were closed, the dark lashes that framed them resting on cheeks that were rosy with excitement. His lips were parted as his breath came in hurried pants; making his chest rise and fall quickly. His nipples stood stiff, and swollen, their ripened pink color standing out against the fairness of the rest of his upper body.


Feeling the perusal of his lover's scorching green gaze, Quatre's eyes fluttered open, revealing the murky, lust heavy, sea colored depths. The blonde smiled provocatively at Trowa's sharp intake of breath. Quatre might have been tied, but he knew he wasn't without power.


Trowa matched his lover's smile, his lips curving wickedly, and making Quatre's breath catch. Slowly the brunette slid his arm from around his lover's slim waist. He trailed his long fingers down Quatre's stomach, enjoying the way the muscles pulled taut under his fingertips. He moved his hand over the fullness of the skirts, making sure to brush lightly over the tell-tale bulge of Quatre's erection.


Quatre sucked in a deep breath, his body trembling in Trowa's arms. The Arabian couldn't do anything with his arms in their current state; he was vulnerable to Trowa's every whim. The silk cravat rubbed against his wrists, the softness of the fabric keeping it from chafing him. It also kept him from touching Trowa; from urging his hands where Quatre wanted them to go. And that made this all the more arousing. All Quatre could do was wait, and watch.


Quatre bit his lip, and let his eyes roam the room as Trowa toyed with the hem of his skirt. As he scanned the somber atmosphere he found his heart beating even faster. The dark, almost melancholy surroundings appealed to some perverse desire in him. The way the room was set, the clothes Trowa wore, and the way he spoke. Quatre felt like wounded prey laid before a ravenous beast; like he had walked right into a well laid trap. It was a different game from the ones they usually played, but Quatre realized he was enjoying it all the same. He loved the haunting, almost dangerous quality that Trowa was exuding. And the way he felt lost, and delightfully wicked, spread across his lover's lap. Quatre licked his lips in intoxicated anticipation.


The brunette watched as his lover eyed the room. He had been unsure while setting it up, but from Quatre's reactions the decor was well received. Trowa lightly rubbed the swell of Quatre's cock through the layers of skirts; the smaller boy loud out a loud lusty moan. Very well received. Quatre looked so exquisite laying half naked and panting across his lap. The blonde turned his eyes up to his lover; pleading. Trowa met his gaze and he slipped his hand under the skirt.


Without wasting time Trowa slid his hand up Quatre's leg, the silky nylon of the tights soft against his palm. He reached the top of the tights, and felt the bare skin of Quatre's upper thigh. The brunette shifted his hand between the blonde's thighs; nudging them wider. The Arabian hastily complied, shifting and spreading his legs open. Trowa moved his hand to the juncture of Quatre's quivering thighs, and cupped the hard flesh encased in the thin panties. Quatre moaned heatedly, his hips arching up and into Trowa's touch. He jerked his bindings tight; straining for Trowa to keep going.


The brunette kept his hand still, doing nothing more but touching Quatre's desire through the silky cloth barrier. "Did you know that today is my un-birthday?"


Quatre shook his head quickly, biting his lip to keep from pleading Trowa to continue.


"It is. And I think that you shall be my present this year." With that, he moved his hand up slightly, just enough to reach the top of the panties.


Quatre was so aroused that his cock was already half free of the soft undergarments. Trowa pulled them down, freeing his lover's erection completely. Quatre sobbed happily, as his aching arousal was finally unrestrained. The blonde lifted his hips, letting Trowa slide the garment to the tops of his thighs. Trowa caressed Quatre's hip, purposefully keeping from touching the blonde's erection; which was just a hairsbreadth away from his fingertips. The blonde squirmed on his lap, and let out little sounds of lust and frustration.


The taller boy was feeling dark and wicked, unlike his usual self. Maybe it was his clothing; the way it was frayed, and worn. Maybe it was the surroundings; the shadowy, neglected room, strung thick with spider webs. Maybe it was Quatre; unsure, but willing on his lap. Maybe it was a bit of everything. The brunette wasn't sure exactly. All he knew was that he was feeling decidedly roguish. He had a beautiful lover writhing on his lap, and with a smirk turning his lips, he concluded he would make full use of the situation.


Trowa moved his hand over and slowly ran one finger up the length of Quatre's swollen cock. Quatre cried out, his hips instinctively rocking up for more of that touch. Trowa chuckled, the sound tenebrous, and erotic. He once again slid an arm under the blonde's back, and lifted the slender body up. Trowa's mouth descend on Quatre's; he fused their lips together in a rough, demanding kiss. Quatre was all too happy to oblige; opening his lips, and letting Trowa's tongue slip inside to ravage his mouth.


While taking complete control of his lover's mouth, Trowa's free hand wrapped around Quatre's arousal. The blonde's eyes went wide, and then slid shut as he shuddered with unrepressed satisfaction. He tried to moan, but the sound was lost in Trowa's mouth, as the brunette's tongue continued to ravish his own. He shifted in Trowa's lap, enjoying the feel of his lover's hand holding him, but needing more than just a simple touch.


Trowa broke the kiss, panting, and smiling rakishly as Quatre did the same. He kept Quatre's body held aloft; dipping his head down to sample the cream colored skin of the Arabian's neck. Quatre tilted his head to allow Trowa to taste freely, but he whimpered when the hand on his erection stayed motionless. Trowa finally decided that he had tormented his lover enough, and as he nibbled on the juncture of neck and shoulder, he firmly stroked the length of Quatre's cock.


The blonde moaned his approval, and tilted his head even further, earning another stroke from his lover. Quatre knew at this point it wouldn't take much for him to reach his climax. Just looking at Trowa, and his sinful grin had put him on the edge. Now, with the brunette's hand moving up and down his aching cock, he knew he was almost ready to plummet over. His cock was dripping, wetting Trowa's hand and making his movements easier. Trowa squeezed his erection, and Quatre's hips shot up; a low, shaky moan tearing from his throat. He was so close.


And then, without warning, the taller boy removed his hand, and wiped the moisture on it onto Quatre's skirt. Quatre let out a mournful wail, and tugged hard on his bindings. He struggled to free himself, and if need be, use his own hands to achieve what he wanted.


But Trowa waved a finger in his face, and chastised him. "Ah, ah, ah. No trying to free yourself. This is my un-birthday, and I'll unwrap my presents as slowly as I want."


Quatre whined plaintively. "Please... PLEASE!"


Trowa nodded, and lifted Quatre's legs from the arm of the chair; depositing them on the floor. He placed his hands on the blonde's waist, and stood him up; turning Quatre so that they faced each other. Then, grinning devilishly, Trowa reached up and under Quatre's shirt and slowly pulled the panties down. One of Quatre's stockings slipped down to his knee in the process, but as his hands were still tied he couldn't tug it back up. Not that he really cared, as the state of his stockings was the last thing on his mind. Trowa finally got the panties all the way down, and Quatre stepped out of them.


The brunette slipped the panties into his coat pocket, and then looked up at his lover; his green eyes alight with lust and need. He was as hard as Quatre was, his cock straining against the front of his pants. But he was, if nothing else, patient. And he knew as soon as he was done with his torture of Quatre, the blonde would repay him in full. His cock seemed to grow even harder at that thought. Trowa forced himself back to the situation at hand. Quatre was breathless, and aroused, and waiting for him to continue.


Trowa put his hands back on Quatre's waist, and lifted his lover to sit on the table. The taller boy moved his chair forward a bit, and spread Quatre's legs wide. The blonde put on foot on each arm of the chair to balance himself. The table was high enough that Trowa, who was still sitting, was perfectly positioned right between Quatre's legs; the blonde's knees were right at shoulder level with him.


The brunette reached up and removed his rabbit ears. They were simply a pair of ears sewn onto a headband the same color as Trowa's hair. However, the effect of the matching colors made it appear that the ears were real, and actually sprouting from Trowa's head. The taller boy set the ears next to Quatre on the table. Then Trowa bent over slightly and moved his head under Quatre's skirts. Above him he could hear the blonde's gasp of surprise, and on either side of him he could feel the tenseness of his lover's thighs.


Trowa gently pressed a kiss to one smooth thigh, and whispered, "I love you," before he took the head of Quatre's erect cock into his mouth.


The blonde threw his head back, Trowa's whispered words making his heart pound, as Trowa's mouth set the rest of him on fire. Quatre leaned back slightly, using his bound hands for leverage. He rested his weight on his hands as he tried to thrust into Trowa's mouth. He couldn't see what his lover was doing, but he felt warm wetness as Trowa's mouth slid down his cock, taking him deeper and deeper into that wet heaven. The roughness of the brunette's tongue swept over his sensitive arousal; it swirled around the head of his cock, and traced downward toward the base.


Quatre squeezed his eyes shut, and bit down on his lower lip. His chest rose and fell quickly as he struggled to breath. His mouth dropped open, and he moaned sensually as Trowa took his erection fully into his mouth. There were no words to describe the euphoric feeling of that hot, moist suction. The blonde's body trembled as his lover began to suck hard on his arousal. Quatre was poised on the precipice of his climax. His blood pounded hot in his veins, his heart raced, his body shook. Even in the chilly room, his body grew damp with perspiration as passion's lascivious heat consumed him.


Under the layers of skirts, Trowa could sense how close Quatre was to coming. He could feel the way the blonde's body quivered, and he knew from experience his lover was almost there. The green eyed boy ran a hand up Quatre's leg, and as he sucked hard on the erection his mouth, his hand cupped Quatre's sac. Trowa's thumb lightly stroked the sac, and he moved his mouth up a bit in preparation.


That small touch was all Quatre needed. His entire body pulled taut; each muscle straining under the pressure. With a loud cry of joy and ecstasy he climaxed. Quatre filled Trowa's mouth with his release; hot pleasure poured forth, and the brunette swallowed as much as he could. He couldn't swallow it all, some spilled from his lips and ran down his chin. But the taller boy managed to enjoy most of his lover's climax; licking Quatre clean when he was done.


Quatre's body relaxed, all the tenseness ebbing away in the wake of his powerful climax. He slumped over, panting and sated. Trowa lifted the blonde's skirts, and revealed his smiling face. He wiped the traces of Quatre's pleasure from his face on the edge of the boy's skirt; dabbing the material on his face like he was wiping away the traces of a fine meal. Trowa pushed the chair back a little, and stood. Quatre's legs fell limply from the arms of the chair, and dangled off the side of the table.


The brunette reached behind his lover, and untied the cravat holding his lover's hands together. Quatre brought his arms around to his front, and rubbed his slightly aching wrists. He had been pulling the bindings so hard they had chafed him slightly.


Trowa took the injured wrists into his own hands, and massaged them softly. "You didn't get hurt did you?" He asked, worried.


Quatre shook his head, and smiled a slow, lazy grin. He pulled his hands from Trowa's grasp and picked up the discarded rabbit ears. He placed them back on Trowa's head, and fixed them so they once again blended in, and looked real. "No, but I can't promise the same for you.." The blonde lifted a foot, and nudged Trowa in the chest. The green eyed boy tumbled back into the chair behind him.


The Arabian stretched his hands high over his head, and arched his back. Trowa gulped. It was time for his payback. Quatre jumped off the table with feline grace, and smiled a smile that put the Cheshire cat to shame. He pulled the pinafore back up his arms, and shimmied so that the rest of his clothing slid down his body. He stepped out of the pile of dress and petticoats, and stood before Trowa clad only in his pinafore, stockings, and shoes. Both stockings had slipped down, and now rested just below his knees, but Quatre made no move to pull them up.


Trowa looked his lover up and down, decidedly aroused by the picture he made. Quatre looked delightfully rumpled, and pleased. The clothing that was left was askew, and Quatre's blonde hair was disarrayed. And the brunette knew that very soon he'd look the same. Quatre closed the small gap between them; he kneeled in the chair Trowa was sitting in, placing one of his knees right between Trowa's splayed legs. His other leg was planted firmly on the ground, and his hands were on the arms of the chair to give him leverage. Quatre pressed his knee against the bulge of Trowa's arousal. The green eyed boy shuddered. Oh, God, he was going to come right then. Quatre pressed his knee against him even harder, and it was all Trowa could do not to grind against his knee, and climax.


"You know," Quatre began thoughtfully, "you're a terrible host." Trowa opened his mouth to protest, but Quatre moved his knee slightly, adding friction to the pressure on Trowa's cock. The brunette's eyes rolled back on his head as blissful pleasure rolled over him.


"As I was saying," Quatre continued. "You're a terrible host. I mean, here I am, this poor lost child, only trying to find my way. And I stumble upon you, and your party, and all I wanted was a spot of tea. And you're awfully rude, telling me there's no room when I can see for myself that there's plenty. And then you take advantage of me.." Quatre tsk-ed. "Is that anyway to treat your guest?"


Trowa whimpered, his leaf green eyes imploring what his mouth could not. Quatre smiled down on him. "I can see that now you're feeling a bit sorry for what you've done. But still, I don't think you've fully learned your lesson.."


The blonde reached down and ripped Trowa's vest open. The garment was so old the remaining buttons all but fell off; the fabric parting easily under his fingers. Quatre then slowly undid the buttons trailing down the brunette's shirt, stopping when he reached the waist of his lover's pants. His pale, nimble fingers made quick work of the one button, and just as assuredly they slid down the zipper. Trowa raised himself up and bit, and Quatre slid the pants down just enough to free the green eyed boy's cock from its cloth prison.


A shaky, but grateful moan ripped itself from Trowa's throat. Though Quatre had not yet touched his rigid erection, the feeling of the cool air moving across his overheated flesh was enough. Quatre smiled knowingly, and finished unbuttoning Trowa's shirt, the edges of hands just brushing the taller boy's arousal. The brunette's hips shot up from the chair at that ghost of a touch; his cock stood hard, and wet against his stomach.


The blonde parted his lover's shirt, baring Trowa's toned chest to his devouring gaze. Quatre shifted, moving his legs so he could better straddle his lover, and keep him under control. Trowa was his to play with now; it was his turn to bring torture, and pleasure. Quatre leaned forward and began to greedily ravish Trowa's neck. He could feel the brunette's pulse racing as his tongue glissaded over the soft skin; he could also feel the vibration of the groan that sounded from Trowa's lips as Quatre's pinafore lightly rubbed against his swollen arousal.


Trowa had the arms of the chair in a white knuckle grip; so great was the pressure he felt. The soft, light material of the pinafore was offering him no relief. In fact, it seemed to be teasing him further, until he felt he might explode if something more solid didn't touch him. But Quatre, enticing demon that he was, would have none of that. Even as the smaller boy smiled, Trowa could see his ocean eyes dancing with undisguised mirth. The brunette was about ready to scream, and grab his insidious lover, and force him to offer relief from the overwhelming tension coiling inside him.


As if reading his thoughts, or perhaps Quatre had seen his hands twitch, the blonde covered Trowa's hands with his own; using his weight as leverage to pin them uselessly to the worn velvet arms.


"You know--," Quatre began.


Trowa made a small, half pleading noise. He couldn't take anymore. If Quatre teased him much longer he'd simply die right there under him. He'd perish from the all-consuming need he felt. The blonde looked at him reproachfully, and cleared his throat. Trowa forced himself to be silent. He bit back the moans, and the begging words he wanted to speak and settled for panting with his mouth wide open.


"You know," he began again, "I don't think it's a coincidence we met today. I think you planned this whole thing. I think you were purposefully trying to seduce me." The blonde lifted one hand, and brushed Trowa's bang from his face revealing both lust fogged bottle green eyes. Quatre leaned in and pressed their lips together. Gently, he slipped his tongue between Trowa's parted lips and licked the roof of his lover's mouth. Then he drew back, and licked his own lips.


If there was anything more erotic than a flushed, and commanding Quatre, straddling him, and licking his lips, Trowa had never laid eyes on it. His entire body shuddered as a desire like he had never known overtook him. Panting, breathless, aching, and about ready to submit to anything he responded. "Yes, I did plan to seduce you. I planned to feel your body writhing under me as I had my way with you. And I shall."


Quatre looked at him, surprised, and decidedly pleased. "But not before *I* have my way with *you*."


The blonde's hand stole between then and wrapped itself firmly around Trowa's cock. He wet his fingers with the moisture from the head of Trowa's erection, and all it took was a few quick strokes to send his lover plummeting to his climax.


Trowa's eyes squeezed shut as Quatre's hand touched him. His cock had been hard for ages; straining for the slightest touch. His entire body was tense, all nerves seemingly focused on that one area. And at the first tender touch of that slightly callused, slender hand he knew so well, Trowa came harder than he thought possible. His seed spilled into Quatre's hand, flowing over the ivory skin, and covering both of them in warm, wet passion. The brunette's body trembled as the ache inside him was finally sated. It felt like his first climax; like the very first time he had ever felt those cool, teasing hands on him. Like the first time his Quatre had ever loved him.


Trowa felt a cool hand on his cheek, and damp fingers on his mouth. He opened his lips and accepted Quatre's fingers into his mouth, tasting his own passion on the hands of his lover. He licked the slender fingers clean, his tongue removing all the remnants of his climax. His eyes still remained closed as Quatre's fingers were withdrawn, and replaced with his lips. The Arabian kissed him softly, lovingly; the hand on Trowa's cheek never leaving.


Slowly, Trowa blinked his eyes open. Quatre was smiling at him, that wicked dark smile that meant the fun wasn't over. The blonde's hands ran up his chest and pinched his nipples; his fingers still wet from being in Trowa's mouth. Trowa gasped at the unexpected stimulation. He had been so relaxed, but now Quatre was determined to arouse him again. Green eyes watched as the pale hands that had so recently brought him to climax wandered over his body. He'd let the blonde play for a minute, just so long as Quatre didn't get too into it. It was Trowa's turn to torture, after all.


Quatre slid a hand up his lover's arm, feeling the muscle through the layers of clothing he still wore. The brunette had so much power in his lithe body, and yet, with just the right touch he melted readily under Quatre's hands. The Arabian's fingers danced higher up the timeworn fabric of Trowa's jacket. The muscles of Trowa's arms flexed, just hinting at the strength hidden under the sleeve. Quatre's other hand strayed lower, moving down Trowa's stomach. With a soft growl the taller boy grabbed the Arabian's hands, hindering them from further exploration. Quatre watched him, his eyes twinkling, daring Trowa to keep going.


"You know, you still haven't been forgiven for sitting down uninvited." The brunette released Quatre's hands, and motioned to the table, reminding his lover of the conversation that they had had earlier.


The Arabian looked a little startled, as if he had forgotten his surroundings, and their game, completely. He recovered and offered a shy smile. "What does one have to do to receive an invitation?"


Quatre reached up and suggestively stroked one of Trowa's rabbit ears. It was soft and fuzzy under his fingers, and he shifted a bit so he could play with it more freely. His other hand moved along Trowa's shoulder, absently dipping down the trace the brunette's collarbone. Trowa reached out and twisted the front of Quatre's pinafore in his hands.


"You'd like an invitation? Well, I'm very exclusive, and picky." Trowa spoke softly, as if thinking out every word; his voice belying none of what he was feeling. His face was level with Quatre's neck, so close that as he breathed his warm breath caressed Quatre's skin with the lightest of touch. Shivers skated down the blonde's spine, bringing his nipples to hard peaks, and making his cock swell.


Trowa felt the hardness rising behind the pinafore that brushed his bare stomach, and his own body started to reply in kind. He shifted a bit, trying to regain his control. "First off, you have to dress the part. And you, my dear, are severely overdressed." He fingered the thin fabric in his hands.


Quatre arched his eyebrows. "Overdressed? I'm wearing far less than you are.."


Trowa shook his head, his hands getting a tighter hold on the white material. "It's still too much."


In one swift motion he ripped the pinafore apart. The fabric split easily under Trowa's strong hands; the thin garment tearing down the middle and exposing Quatre's fair chest under it. A small gasp escaped from Quatre as his last remaining vestige of clothing was quickly dispensed. The taller boy didn't stop under he had successfully severed the pinafore in two; the halves hanging limply from Quatre's shoulders.


The blonde looked down at what was left of his pinafore; there was no way to salvage it. He gracefully removed it, held it up with one hand, and then left it drop to the floor. He sat straddling his lover's lap in only a pair of white thigh high tights, which were now knee high, and a pair of black Mary Jane's. Trowa's burning gaze roamed over his bared body, and Quatre unabashedly arched his back and let him have an eyeful.


The way Trowa had so effortlessly ripped the pinafore from him aroused Quatre even more, and he wasn't ashamed to let the green eyed boy know it. He loved it when Trowa's control slipped, and if he could, he'd make it slip further. The brunette's eyes raked up and down the slender figure perched on his lap, trying to decide where he wanted to start. His arms shot out, and wrapped around Quatre's body, pulling the blonde closer. His blue green eyes went wide as he was pressed against Trowa's chest; their bare skin rubbing together. Quatre's arms were pinned to his side, prohibiting any movement from them, but his mouth was free and he took full advantage of that. He leaned in and pressed his lips to Trowa's, smiling when Trowa's mouth opened under his and permitted his tongue access.


One of Trowa's arms lifted, allowing him to tangle his fingers into Quatre's blonde locks, and cradle the boy's head. Once the smaller boy was held firmly in place, he took over their kiss, his tongue sweeping in to ravish every inch of Quatre's mouth. The Arabian managed to move his hands up enough to clutch at the lapels of his lover's coat, pulling Trowa closer to him; pulling him deeper into the kiss. Their mouths interfused together; lips and tongues so entwined that they dissolved into each other. They didn't know where one ended and the other began, and they didn't care.


They finally had to break apart; both panting from the combination of lack of air, and the rush of desire that was surging through them. Their eyes locked together; storm swept blue meeting passion filled green.


"I believe it's my turn to have *my* way with *you*."


Trowa spoke quietly, but his tone left no room for argument. It had a hint of playful threatening; not meant to intimidate Quatre, but rather to warn him of the things Trowa would do. Naughty, bad, wicked, dark things that Quatre was *so* looking forward to.


The brunette lifted his lover's arms, and placed the blonde's hands on the high back of the chair. "Keep your hands there, and don't try to touch yourself. If you do I'll get my cravat back out and tie you up again." His voice was still soft, but now it had a breathless edge to it. In this position Quatre was raised higher than he was, giving the taller boy perfect access to his lover's more sensitive areas. And the blonde had to lean in to grip the chair, making his body press even closer to Trowa's waiting mouth.


The Arabian's eyes were wide, and his fingers were digging into the material at the top of the chair. He shifted around a bit, gasping when the insides of his trembling thighs brushed against Trowa's legs. The brunette was still mostly clothed, and it made Quatre feel wonderfully wanton to know that he was naked while his lover was dressed. He felt Trowa's heavy breath against his skin; the brunette's mouth was just about level with the blonde's nipples.


Each exhale over the pink buds pulled them tighter and tighter, and when Trowa leaned in and pulled one into his mouth, his teeth just grazing it, Quatre's legs went weak and pushed his body fully against the one underneath him. His fingers didn't lose their grip, but he did let out a wailing moan and buried his face in Trowa's dark hair. The ears springing from the brunette locks tickled Quatre's face, but he didn't care. All he wanted to do was rub himself against his lover's hard, strong body until the tension building inside him was eased. His arousal was fully hard again, and he couldn't stop himself from rocking his hips forward as his erection cried out for some touch, any touch.


Trowa's long fingers settled themselves on Quatre's hips to steady the other boy, he knew Quatre could take a lot more before he succumbed. His thumbs traced circles on Quatre's hipbones, wetness beginning to gather at the head of Quatre's arousal as he did so. The blonde's arms shook, and it was obvious that it was a strain for him to keep his hands away from the action. Trowa slid his hands up Quatre's back, gliding up to his shoulder blades before caressing back down to his ass. He squeezed the pale cheeks gently, smiling when Quatre pushed back into his hands. The brunette's hands wandered back to his lover's front, and began stroking the skin of his inner thighs. The flesh was strained and shaking, a sure sign of Quatre's arousal.


The blonde whimpered as his lover's hands danced over his body. Trowa knew all his weak spots, and wasn't afraid to exploit them. Quatre managed to lean his head down far enough to nibble at the top of the taller boy's ear. The green eyed boy's body shuddered as the Arabian began his own attack. Trowa's cock swelled further as Quatre moved down his ear, and slid the tip of his tongue inside.


"Hands down," he growled, his quivering voice resonating with desire.


Quatre smiled, more than glad to lower his arms, and twine them around Trowa's neck. They shared a long look, neither speaking, only panting as they stared into the other's eyes. And then their mouths crushed together in a twin surge of passion and need. Eyes closed, and hands pulled each other closer, as skin cried out for the most contact it could get. They moaned into the other's mouth, the sound being swept away by the stroke of their tongues. Sweat damp bodies slid together, hard cocks brushed lightly, hands roamed everywhere with a pleasure fueled desperation.


Trowa finally had to break the kiss before Quatre sent him over the edge. He was so close already, and he still had one more surprise for his lover. He sat for a minute, trying to catch his breath and calm his racing heart and pounding cock. Sometimes things between them got so intense so quickly it was overwhelming. It didn't help that Quatre's hand were busily roving all over him.


The taller boy wiggled a bit, shifting around in the chair. The blonde stopped what he was doing and watched him curiously. Trowa quirked his mouth and managed to maneuver Quatre around so the brunette could stand, and place the smaller boy on the seat. Trowa adjusted his shirt, vest, and jacket, all of which still hung open; he left them that way, a tantalizing tease for the Arabian. His pants were still open as well, giving Quatre a perfect view of his rigid erection.


But Quatre was confused as he watched Trowa kneel before him and push the chair back to create a larger space between it and the table. The green eyed boy stayed in that position and looked up at the blonde. His fingers slowly traipsed up a creamy leg and his mouth pressed a kiss to one fair knee.


"You've earned your invitation," he whispered huskily. "You're always welcome at my table now."


His long fingers had reached Quatre's upper leg, and gently they slipped between them and ran up the length of the Arabian's cock. Blue green eyes went wide, and the smaller boy gasped as Trowa stroked him. He arched into the touch, pushing his body into the hands of his lover. Trowa used his other hand to spread Quatre's legs wider, and he slid his body between them. He began to trail kisses along an ivory thigh, while his hand grazed the rock hard arousal resting against the blonde's stomach.


"Do you want me?" Trowa breathed seductively against the thigh he was laving with kisses. He didn't wait for an answer, he didn't need to as Quatre let out a small moan and rolled his slim hips towards the brunette's hand. "Do you want to be taken by me? To feel me inside you as I love you?" He wrapped his hand around his lover's straining erection and gave a quick stroke.


Quatre's hips shot off the chair. His eyes slid shut, and he leaned his head back. "Yes," he whispered. "Yes, yes, yes!" He pulled his kiss-swollen bottom lip between his teeth and nibbled it as he was touched. His fingers curled into the arms of the chair, and he splayed his legs a bit wider.


The green eyed boy smiled wickedly, knowing Quatre couldn't see him. "Good," he intoned softly. He stood abruptly and moved to the table.


Instantly missing the touch, Quatre's eyes flew open and looked beseechingly at his lover. "Wha.. What are you doing?" He was breathless, his chest heaving, and his eyes dazed.


"I'm introducing you to the other guests," Trowa explained simply. "I think you'll like them, and they'll come in very handy." He offered a small smile, and seemed not to be disturbed by the fact that there were no other people in the room.


At least.. Quatre *hoped* there were no more people in the room. His voyeurism fantasies didn't usually mix with his cross dressing ones. What was he saying? He didn't care if Rashid and the Maguanac Corps. rushed in right now. They could all watch Trowa take him on the table for all he cared. He just wanted his lover naked and in him. And he wanted it now!


Trowa opened one of the lids to a nearby teapot and pulled out a tube of lubrication. He held it out to Quatre, and smiled. "You look a little shy, love. Let me introduce you to this tube of lubrication. Quatre, this is Plum lube -- Plum lube, this is Quatre."


The blonde smiled in a frazzled manner and nodded to the tube. "Very nice to meet you." He turned pleading eyes to lover. "Now can you please open that up and use it!"


Trowa smiled wickedly, then tried his best to look outraged. He tossed it aside, shaking his head. "Certainly not, Quatre. It isn't etiquette to use any one you've been introduced to!"


Quatre's eyes went wide, and his mouth dropped open in shock. Trowa paid no attention to his lover's distress, and instead opened another teapot. He extracted a different tube of lube and held this one out to Quatre as well. The Arabian sighed in relief. "Please don't introduce me to this one as well, or--"


"Quatre, this is Cherry lube -- Cherry lube, this is Quatre." [7]


Quatre watched with dismayed eyes as that lube flew across the room like the one before. Trowa had opened another teapot, and was pulling out yet more lube. Quatre was about ready to scream. "Trowa Barton! If you introduce me to that one as well--"


"Quatre, this is--"


"I don't care who or what it is," the blonde cried. "If it's not in me in one second, then you won't be either."


"Quatre, this is--"


Quatre growled in frustration and snatched the tube from Trowa's fingers. The brunette's eyes widened, he had clearly not anticipated his lover taking matters into his hands. Quatre moved back and perched on the chair. He knelt sideways in it, his inner leg bent on the seat, knee touching one arm of the chair, while foot touched the other. His outer leg remained straight, the ball of his foot touching the floor. He leaned his side against the back of the chair, the worn-soft material brushing his skin, and alighting his already burning body.


The Arabian popped the lid off and squeezed a generous amount of lube onto his hand. He clutched the velvet arm before him, and bent forward a little to keep his balance. This gave Trowa, who was across from him, a perfect side view of the curve of the blonde's lower back and tight ass. Trowa couldn't help but groan at the sight of that creamy, curvaceous, oh-so-perfect profile. Quatre wiggled his slickened fingers, drawing Trowa's attention away from his luscious bottom.


The taller boy watched with rapt fascination as those pale, gel-coated fingers slid behind Quatre's back, and made their way down. His green eyes went as wide as the tea saucers on the table when those ivory fingers touched the entrance to Quatre's body, and then went even further; slipping two inside. Quatre gasped as he penetrated himself. He loved the sensation of his cool, slick fingers working themselves inside his body. He slid them in slowly, wanting to savor the feeling of finally being filled, even if it was just with his own fingers. Though, from the sounds of Trowa's panting, he would be filled with something much bigger very soon.


He looked over at his lover, his blue green eyes dark with lust. Trowa's eyes were riveted to his body, scarcely blinking. The blonde's lips curved into a wicked smile as he slid his fingers even deeper. He loved the way Trowa looked at him like that. Like he was the only one that existed in the brunette's universe. The world could erupt into flames around them, and still Trowa's eyes would never leave his body. It was a heady feeling to be wanted that much; and to want the same amount in return.


Quatre licked his lips and drew a ragged breath as he eyed Trowa's cock; the undeniable proof of his desire. It was hard, and dripping; standing swollen and proud; throbbing to be inside him. The blonde moaned. Their eyes met, and melted into each other. Hot burning passion flowing through their gaze, lust and need rolling off their bodies and tangling together. Quatre added a third finger and felt his body stretching around him to accommodate the extra digit. The blonde wanted to close his eyes, and lose himself to the feeling of his body opening around his questing fingers. But he couldn't tear his eyes from Trowa's; couldn't break the gaze that held him so strongly. He was caught in that smoldering emerald fire of desire.


Quatre pushed his three fingers in as far as he could, gasping and arching his back as he struck the spot that made his universe tilt. Before he could recover, Trowa was on him. The taller boy gently pulled Quatre's hand, freeing his fingers from inside his body. Then he lifted the blonde from the chair, and set him on the floor in front of it. He took Quatre's hand, still quite slippery with the excess lubrication, and lead it to his erection.


The blonde understood, and began to coat Trowa's arousal with the remaining gel. His other hand gripped Trowa's lean hip, as he steadily stroked the lube up and down the hard flesh. Trowa had to put a shaking hand on Quatre's wrist to stop him. Given free reign Quatre could, and would, bring him to climax this way. But after seeing the blonde so shamelessly preparing himself Trowa knew there was no way he'd be satisfied unless he came deep inside the smaller boy.


"Turn around," the taller boy managed to vocalize hoarsely.


Quatre nodded vigorously, and turned, facing the faded crimson chair. He clasped either arm, his fingers digging into the tattered velvet; nails ready to claw it like a frenzied cat. Trowa molded himself against Quatre from behind, their slightly sweat-damp skin sliding together. Quatre swore as their bodies touched he could hear the skin sizzle, like it was heated by a passion fueled fire. The want and desire pouring from their bodies seemed to singe the air around them; burning away everything else except the constant, aching need. Quatre could feel Trowa's thick, oiled cock pressing against him, promising ecstasy; if only the green eyed boy would enter him!


"Tr..oooo..wa...!" the blonde wailed; the 'o' sound elongated into a carnal, sensualistic moan. He wasn't afraid to shamelessly beg his lover this late in their game. And he knew that when he spoke his lover's name that way he would fray the last strands of control holding Trowa back.


Trowa knew it too. He knew Quatre was aware of just how aroused he became by hearing the blonde moan for him. The brunette's entire frame shook as his lover turned his name into the most lascivious sounding word he'd ever heard. And if that wasn't enough, Quatre added physical stimulus to the vocal. The smaller boy squirmed under him, rubbing their bodies together in a way that threatened to drive Trowa mad.


One hand took a firm hold of a smooth, fair hip, while the other guided his erection to the welcoming heat. The tip grazed the entrance to Quatre's body, teasing the blonde to the breaking point. Trowa leaned over his lover, and bit possessively at his ear. "I have three hundred and sixty-four un-birthdays. And I plan on spending every single one this way..." With that, he slid his cock through the tight ring, and into the searing passage beyond. Trowa groaned, and had to bite his lip as he felt Quatre's body accept him; felt his lover stretching around him as he pushed deeper and deeper.


Quatre's ocean hued eyes widened as Trowa's arousal filled him, he had prepped himself well, so there was only a small ache as he opened around his green eyed lover. Pleasure, in tandem with the slight pain, was unspooling throughout his body; leaving no nerve ending unaffected. His pale fingers dug into the arms of the chair as he pushed back, trying to get Trowa inside him as quickly as possible.


They moved together, Quatre pressing back, and Trowa pressing forward, until finally the brunette was fully seated within his blonde love. They paused, both breathing deeply, and willing their over aroused bodies not to climax right then. The Arabian writhed under his lover, and felt the taller boy's fingers flex on his hips. Trowa got a firm hold on the slim hips in his hands. He pulled out slightly, and thrust back in. He started with shallow, short strokes, getting his lover used to the feeling before he pounded him through the chair.


Quatre panted as Trowa began to take him. He found the rhythm his lover was creating and followed along with it; pushing his body back as the brunette surged forward into him. The blonde didn't want slow movements and soft hands, he wanted their sex to match the darkly seductive fictional world they had created. As Trowa thrust into him, Quatre slammed his ass back, driving Trowa deep inside him.


"Hard, Trowa," he gasped out.


That was all the encouragement the brunette needed. He slid out and thrust back in quickly. The top of Quatre's head brushed the back of the chair as he was rocked with the force of the movement. The blonde's palms were so damp they slid from the arms, and landed on the seat of the chair. Trowa groaned as Quatre bent over even further, it was even easier to slide in and out of his tight body from this position. The taller boy buried himself in his lover again, the change enabling him to hit the blonde's sweet spot.


Quatre's eyes went wide, and he cried out. His legs trembled, and if not for Trowa's support he would have fallen. In fact, Trowa seemed to be the only stable thing in his world right now. His body thrummed, tension building inside him. His muscles were strained; his energy focused on matching Trowa's thrusts. He was moving ever closer to climax every time Trowa's wonderfully thick cock entered him; every time Trowa touched his sweet spot. Quatre was moaning loudly; wordless pleas, nonsensical entreaties, anything to spur Trowa to keep moving.


The brunette was quickly approaching his own climax. Quatre's voice, so full of unrestrained desire, was going to be his undoing. He didn't want to hurt his lover, but he couldn't hold back, especially when Quatre begged him not to. He leaned over the smaller boy, shortening his strokes as he bit into a pale shoulder. It was killing him to go slow, but he wanted to drive Quatre crazy with his need.


Trowa's bare chest rubbed against Quatre's back, and the edges of his jacket brushed against the blonde's sides. Quatre shivered as the fabric lightly touched his damp skin. It made him feel slightly more vulnerable to know that Trowa was still mostly dressed, and he was fully nude. He felt like he was fully at the mercy of his taller lover, which he was. And he loved it. Knowing he was close to coming he lifted one shaky hand from the chair and wrapped it around his own cock. His hand still had traces of the lube on it, and mixed with his own wetness, his hand slid easily up and down his arousal. He cried out as his erection throbbed in his hand, his body screaming for joy as it was pushed even closer to the brink.


Still nibbling along Quatre's shoulder, Trowa felt the blonde's body shift again as Quatre raised one hand. The green eyed boy could easily tell from the motions what his lover was doing. He licked at one of the bite marks on Quatre's fair skin, and moved up to kiss below his ear. "When you first walked in here all I could think of was doing this to you. I've never wanted anything the way I wanted you." He punctuated this with a hard thrust.


Quatre moaned, at both the thrust, and Trowa's words. His blue green eyes widened when Trowa's hand joined his own. The brunette lifted himself up slightly, enough so that he could pound Quatre harder, but still reach his erection. He twined his darker fingers around Quatre's lighter ones, and together they pumped the Arabian's cock quickly. Quatre closed his eyes, his thoughts and his body concentrated solely on Trowa. Trowa sliding in and out of him. Trowa's hand over his own stroking his cock. Trowa's hot breath fanning across his back. Trowa was all over him, all around him. Quatre's body tensed, the muscles pulling tight. With a loud cry he came, his climax covering their joined hands, and spilling onto the chair below.


Trowa's eyes went wide as Quatre's tight walls constricted around his invading erection. He felt the warmth of Quatre's passion coating his fingers. The combination of the two nearly made him come. He was so close; poised on the edge, and ready to tumble into ecstasy. Quatre wanted to help his lover, to make Trowa feel as amazing as he was feeling. The smaller boy slammed back as his lover surged forward, sheathing Trowa fully inside his hot passage. That was all it took. He screamed Quatre's name as he came, filling the boy under him with his creamy seed.


They shuddered together, their still joined bodies starting to finally relax. With a sated sigh Trowa pulled out of Quatre, and stood him up. He turned the blonde and kissed him. Quatre returned the kiss, and with a little growl, bit at Trowa's bottom lip. Trowa broke the kiss and bit the end of Quatre's nose. The Arabian gasped and tweaked one of the brunette's nipples in retaliation. Trowa arched into the touch, but batted Quatre's hands away.


"No more, no more. I can hardly move as it is." He pulled his pants back up and slipped into the chair. He realized a bit too late that he was sitting in a slightly wet spot. He thought briefly about moving, but he found he really didn't care.


Quatre climbed onto the chair with him, and straddled his lap. One stocking was pooled around his ankle and the other still hugged his leg below the knee. The blonde smiled, his hair all rumpled and his face glowing. He looked like a contented house cat. Well, a house cat who'd just had mind blowing sex with another house cat. Trowa reached out and languidly toyed with a lock of blonde hair. Quatre was tracing idle patterns on his chest. Both of them just savoring the aftermath of their lovemaking. The blonde's hands moved up and began drawing circles around the brunette's nipples. Trowa tried to force down the feeling those touches were stirring.


"Merry un-birthday Trowa."


Trowa smiled softly and let go of Quatre's hair. He ran his hands up and down his lover's bare back gently. "Thank you, love. Trust me when I say I'll never forget it."


A wicked gleam lit Quatre's eyes. He leaned closer to Trowa, his face looking way too mischievous. Trowa felt a twinge of nervousness. He knew that look. Quatre trailed a finger down Trowa's chest and smiled a little too sweetly. "I have one more surprise for you."


Trowa repressed the urge to whimper, and tried not to let his anxiety show. He did so love his Quatre.. but he was worn out. "Oh, and what is it?"


The blonde moved in and nibbled Trowa's earlobe. In a soft, seductive voice he whispered, "Today is my un-birthday too."


~~~~~


the end.


notes:

[1] All of what Trowa read came from- Through the Looking Glass: Chapter 6 - Humpty Dumpty
[2] Through the Looking Glass: Chapter 5 - Wool and Water
[3] Refers to characters from Great Expectations by Dickens.
[4] and [5] The 'no room' / 'wine' conversations come from Alice's Adventures in Wonderland: Chapter 7 - A Mad Tea-Party
[6] Through the Looking Glass: Chapter 6 - Humpty Dumpty
[7] erm.. how to explain this.. it's my version of Alice being introduced the food, and then not being allowed to eat it.. [ Through the Looking Glass: Chapter 9 - Queen Alice ] Lewis Carroll is spinning in his grave.. ^_^;;