Remembered

Fic date: 29 July 2003

Legal Mumbo Jumbo: The Gundam Wing series and characters are copyrighted to Sunrise, Bandai & Sotsu Agency. The characters of these works are used WITHOUT permission strictly for entertainment and not for sale or profit.

Notes: This short story was inspired by the fabulous artworkFablFablespinner, entitled “A Love Affair Remembered”. I hope this piece does it justice. This story is the intellectual property of ZED ADAMS and should not be reproduced or posted without her expressed written permission.

Rating: NC17

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REMEMBERED
By ZED ADAMS

Sorrows mbermbered sweeten present joy - Pollock


PEACEMILLION’S HANGAR.

I saw him the moment I slipped out of the cockpit onto the platform outside the Gundam. The hangar was bathed in an amber glow, the diffused lights reflecting off the steel plated walls of Peacemillion’s never-ending corridors. I resisted the urge to rush to him, and settled for watching him from thedowsdows.

I couldn’t take my eyes off him even if I d. Md. My heartbeat seemed overloud. I was torn between hope and fear. Would he remember? How much did he remember? And more importantly, would he find it in his heart to forgive me?

Guilt embraced me in its icy-cold arms. Memories of my own moment of madness flashed before my eyes.

… the cold, silent rage …

… the blinding flash of light …

… his voice calling out to me, telling me return to my gentle self, to be the person he once knew …

… and my anguish as I came to my senses only to find I had killed my best friend in a moment of rage.


For months I wrestled with my personal demons. I couldn’t forget the horrors and the emotional scars that haunted me. My sleep was haunted with nightmares. Nightmares that left me shuddering violently, drenched in cold sweat and the memory of Vayate ripping apart playing in the forefront of my mind.

I never meant to hurt him.

I finally had someone that I wanted to protect, but when I failed to, I realised how much a failure I was.

And months later when I found him, he had followed me, placing his trust in a complete stranger and he fought beside me even if he couldn’t really begin to understand why he should. Monstrosities were committed in the fight for freedom and justice; images of death and destructionshedshed before us so hot it burnt our faces.

It’s been almost a year since we met on that fateful afternoon, and the affinity that I felt for him made me do something that was not in my nature. I surrendered – not just my self, but my heart and soul. I didn’t know what it was, perhaps I was too young then, but I lately realised that I loved him. I didn’t want to lose him. And now, I wanted him back.

I pulled out of my reverie and came back to the present.

He moved down the catwalk of the hangar in slow measured steps. I leaned against the hatch, closed my eyes and tried with my entire soul to make contact with him. Within seconds, a tiny tendril of thought acknowledged me. He stopped in his tracks and gazed upwards to the shadows where I was hiding. For one moment we stood rooted to our spots, studying each other in silence. And then slowly he pulled off his helmet.

“Quatre …” Soft, dulcet tones pronouncing the iambic syllables of my name.

Green eyes bore into mine. A flicker of recognition.

He smiled.

My heart skipped a beat. And another.

“Quatre.”

Did he call loudloud or was it a trick of my mind? I couldn’t tell.

Eyes locked on each other.

Then he surprised me; rising and coming towards me as I drifted down to take him in my arms. Our fingers closed on each other as he pulled me closer. His gesture was certain, but it was extremely tender.

“Quatre.” He repeated my name like a mantra.

My heart almost broke then.

And then I did a bold thing. I lifted my right hand and tilted his chin. We gazed at each other for long moments. My vision blurred as my tears fell unbidden, creating bright, sparkly droplets that orbited around me. I thought I heard a dull sound as his helmet hit the floor, but I wasn’t sure. He could have backed away, but he didn’t.

“Forgive me,” I whispered, as I pulled him closer. My breath hitched painfully in my chest.

His arms curved around me, holding me in a possessive embrace. He leaned his forehead against mine, and all I could see were his eyes, the unshearsears casting a glassy sheen, making them seemed over bright. I opened my mouth, to protest or apologise, I couldn’t tell. He placed a finger against my lips, and shook his head, gently interrupting my words that remained unspoken.

“I can’t remember anything bad between us,” he murmured softly, his breath brushing against my ear.

He must have felt my body stiffen. He made soft comforting noises to calm me as he stroked my back gently. I relaxed into his embrace.

“I remember you, Quatre. And how important you are to me.” He pressed his lips against mine, tentatively at first, then growing bolder.

I trembled violently, breathing sharply against his mouth before slowly relaxing under the pressure of his kiss. My hands tightened brusquely against his shoulders, my lips opening to the press of his tongue. I felt relief flooding through me and a happiness that I hadn’t experienced in the months that I was away from him. I had so missed him, it was unsettling.

For several long seconds we remained locked together, and I was overcome with yearning for him. After a moment I pulled away, trying to steady my breath. He looked at me, a rosy flush spreading over his cheeks.

And he kissed me again. It wasn’t chaste.

“Trowa,” I sighed, unable to articulate the depth of my feelings.

He kissed my tears away and clasped me close to him. “Forgive yourself, Quatre,” he said, his voice low and urgent. “Don’t let your guilt tear you apart. Come back to me, Quatre. Be the warm, gentle Quatre that I once knew,” a pause, then his hand reached out to brush my hair out of my eyes.

I could only stare at him, mesmerised.

“Be the Quatre that I love.” His voice was hushed and full of ache that I felt too clearly; an ache that was matched by the one in my own heart.

My body shook, and the emotions that I had pushed to the back of my mind accumulated to an achat Iat I could no longer contain. In a spilt second it overpowered me. My chest hurt when I tried to breathe. The anguish, the bitterness, the bereavement and a whole slew of repressed emotions surged to the surface, shattering my composure. I screwed up my face against the howl of agonyhtinhting to get out of me.

He held me tight in his arms in a protective embrace, rocking me gently. I wanted to pour my grief out, to purge my inner demons but I did not know how. Deep down inside, I knew that I alone had the power to rid the venom out of myself, and he had the power to break me and put me back together.

Trowa …

I clung to him frantically, like a soul that fin rec received its salvation. He held me tight as I cried myself to exhaustion, until the pounding in my head finally subsided and the vice-like claws that came with it dissolved. He cooed soft comforting words, rocking me gently like a child. I felt his soft, gentle caresses, his tender kiss on my forehead. He enveloped me with warmth and protection.

And I knew he was right.

Only his trust and his love could redeem me from the prison of my heart.


* * * * * * *


We made our way along the corridor that led away from the hangar, speaking infrequently. I reached out for his hand and felt his fingers closing over mine. He turned and smiled at me; he increased his pace and I hastened to match him. My mind wandered back to the battle earlier that day when his memories were restored back to him. How much did you remember, Trowa?

I was still struggling with the import of the situation, and was mildly surprised to find myself standing before the entrance to his sleeping quarters. He unlocked the door and tugged my hand gently, a small questioning smile on his lips. I lowered my eyes demurely as he beckoned me inside.

My heart pounded in my ears as I slowly made my way around the room – running my fingers on the cold, steel wall, picking up objects at random and replacing them, lingering over the titles of the books stacked on a neat pile on his shelf – all the while avoiding any eye contact. I heard the sharp click as the door sealed shut and shuddered at hudacudacity. I kept my back to him, and tried vainly to quell my emotions.

Soft footfalls approached me, and then I felt his hand on my shoulder, gripping it lightly. I closed my eyes and willed my heartbeat to slow. He grip tightened as he called my name softly, encouraging me to turn within the circle of his arms. I couldn’t deny him – I never could. I opened my eyes and staggered mentally as I found myself gazing into the darkened greenness of his eyes; eyes that seemed mainly pupils. He watched my face intently and I felt a hot flush surging to my cheeks. He smiled.

Then his fingers reached out to touch me, and my eyelids fluttered as he traced his way slowly down my cheek, down to my earlobe to the curve of my neck. His arm curved around my waist, pulling me closer and closer still. I felt alternatively hot and cold as his fingers toyed with the tab of my flightsuit’s zipper. I noticed with detached amusement that his flightsuit was unzipped down to his navel and his feet bare.

A sigh escaped me as he brushed his lips gently against my cheek, moving lower, barely making contact with my heated skin. I heard the metallic whisper as he undid the zipper of my suit, and gasped as he pushed the suit off my shoulders and softly sucked at my pulse point, his breath warm against my skin. I moaned shamelessly, my breath growing erratic and harsh. I shuddered as a warm sensa chu churned in my belly, crawling slowly up my spine and prickled my scalp.

Too long.

It’s been too long since we took comfort in each other. And I wanted him so bad that it hurt. He pulled back, his eyes hazing with desire. He undressed me slowly, seductively. I started to make soft strange sounds as he ran his fingers through my hair. I couldn’t help it, not when he touched me that way.

And my troubles vanished, my fears and insecurities vaporised – to be replaced by a feeling of security, comfort and tranquillity. I trembled and choked down a sob as I relaxed against him, nuzzling lightly into his neck. I felt his arms tightened around my waist, his lips pressing urgently against mine.

“Trowa,” I whispered, willing him to understand the volume of love that I felt for him. I had never told him how much I loved him, wanted him and needed him. Words failed me when I needed them most, and I couldn’t articulate my love for him – except physically.

“Quatre,” he murmured, his hands moving slowly up my arms.

Oh God. I realised at that instant how desperately I wanted to consummate my love for him.

He took a step back, then another and led me to his bed. He pulled me onto his lap, and rained urgent kisses on my face, my neck, my shoulder. My breath was heavy with lust and desire, and when he flicked his tongue across my lips I shivered and sighed with bliss.

I pulled back and ran my eyes over the familiar and much beloved contours of his face. I reached out my hand and caressed his cheek gently. I lifted his hand to my lips and kissed his fingers, one by one. I ran my tongue over each elegant digit, sucking and nipping softly. He sighed and drops his head onto my shoulder, his fingers tracing languid circles on my skin. I shifted and tipped him back, burying my face into his neck and marked his smooth skin. He gasped, fingers twisting into my hair, pulling me closer. He tilted his head to one side, giving me better access to his neck. I smiled and suckled harder, and was rewarded by a low moan of pleasure.

I teased my way down his chest, the flat plane of his belly, licking and nipping at his bare skin. I pushed him gently onto his back as I moved lower, flicking my tongue in his navel, and moving lower still. I slid down his legs, nails scratching at his hips, my tongue running circles on his inner thighs. My heart was pounding like a trip hammer, as he arched into my touch. He dug his nails into my shoulder, and called out my name softly. I looked up into his eyes and what I saw there made me gasp; there was a fierce desire burning behind those liquid green, and I knew then that he wanted me, perhaps even more than I wanted him.

I shuddered. I wanted him, I needed to hold him, to tease him, to please him. I wanted to make love to him, I needed to see him writhe sinfully beneath me, clutching at my body, drawing welts on my skin. I needed to hear him call my name in wanton abandon as I pleasured him repeatedly. But right now I wanted him in my mouth, to pleasure him, to taste him, to swallow his seed and make it part of me … I wanted him in my bloodstream, in my flesh, my every nucleus, my very being.

Nails raked my back as I sank to my knees and took him in my mouth in one fluid move. The newness of the intimacy frightened yet excited me; it was as if we were relearning each other. The grip on my hair tightened, forcing my head up and our eyes locked once again. We never broke eye contact even I took him deep inside me, fighting down my gag reflex, my throat closing around him. And when he struggled, I gripped him harder and increased my pressure.

He arched his back, his breathing ragged, his hand clutching wildly at the sheets, his cries shamelessly loud. Quatre … Quatre … Quatre … my name fell from his lips like a mantra as he climaxed inside me. I swallowed every drop of his warm seed, never once breaking eye contact. I thought my heart would burst from the incredible sight of my beloved thrashing beneath me, surrendering himself willingly to me.

Then he was pulling me up brusquely and held me to lie on top of him. I trembled as I breathed deeply, taking in the scent of his sweet muskiness. It comforted me greatly, just to hold him, to have him in my arms once again. I reached up and kissed him deeply, and I pressed my arousal against his belly. His hands curved tighter around my waist, and he pulled back, his eyes carefully watching my face. A chill crawled up my spine; it’s been a while since he had looked at me quite that searchingly.

Our eyes locked for what seemed like an eternity. And then he whispered seductively, “Quatre, make love to me, please.”

I stiffened, unable to believe my ears. My mind reeled, in equal parts of confusion and wonder. He must have sensed my trepidation. I focused my eyes on a point above his left ear, my vision misting.

“Quatre?” he repeated softly, his hand moving to caress my jawrninrning my head slightly so that I was forced to look into the glittering green depths of his eyes. What I saw there blew my mind away – his need, his desire and most importantly the sheer volume of faith he had in me. My eyes widened with comprehension. Could it be his way to show me that he trusted me enough, to let me take the lead this time?

I turned my face hurriedly so that he could not see the tears prickling in my eyes. God, I wanted him so much, to join our bodies and celebrate our passion. But I was afraid of hurting him, both emotionally and physically.

He gently interrupted my thoughts, pulling me closer. “Look at me, Quatre. I still love you no matter what.” He caressed me gently, his warm breath stirring the hair by my ear. “I want to be here, with you.”

I nodded mutely, and clutched at his arms. My tears quivered on my lashes, before splashing gently onto his skin. I exhaled as the burden lifted from my shoulders. I let out a sigh, which caught in my throat, half-sob, half relief. To be honest, I didn’t know what to do. I have always given, never taken, and I was scared senseless of hurting him again. He sensed my hesitation. He shifted me off his body and crossed the room to his bureau. I sat on my heels, clenching and unclenching my fists alternatively, trying to slow my heartbeat.

He came back and pressed something into my hands. My eyes widened, as a semi-hysterical giggle bubbled in my chest.

It was a quarter-full tube of strawberry flavoured lube. Ours.

I clutched my head in mock-horror and he chuckled silently. Then he was clasping my face, his thumb running circles on my skin. He kissed me gently.

“It’s okay,” he assured me, the whisper low, almost seductive. I nodded shakily, my free hand slipping behind his neck and I pushed him slowly onto his back. He reached down, his fingers brushing against my groin, and I felt my arousal hardened once again. I shivered as his fingers closed around my shaft, coating the cool gel liberally on my skin. He placed a small kiss on the corner of my lips, as if to reassure me as he guided me into himself. It was a strange experience; usually it was me who would lie beneath him, succumbing to our mutual desire.

My body felt like combusting as I pressed tentatively into him. He wrapped his arms around my neck, holding me close as I pressed forward. At first he lay unmoving beneath me, accepting the intrusion in silence. I watched his face intently as I started to rock, back and then forward again, carefully pacing myself. Small, incoherent moans spilled from my lips; I shut my eyes against the lightning bolts of pleasure that burst behind my lids. I paused, catching my breath, and opened my eyes. He smiled, his hands gliding across my back. He said nothing, but his body spoke volumes.

“I’m okay,” he assured me gently. His hands skated down my body, resting momentaril my my buttocks. I gasped as he arched into me, forcing me to thrust deeply into him. I closed my eyes and let my natural rooting instinct take over. He rocked against me, whispering my name again as I started to move faster, thrusting in deeper each time, until I couldn’t go any further.

God help me, I think I’m falling. I couldn’t stop my tears as I tried to prove to him the sheer volume of love I felt for him. Powerful sensations overloaded me, sharpening my senses. We writhed and ground against each other, our bodies slick with sweat, our cries shamelessly loud.

“Don’t stop, Quatre,” he breathed, his voice thick with ardour. “Don’t ever stop.”

I opened my eyes again, and the sight that greeted me made my skin tingle, my blood heat like molten lava. I covered his mouth with hard, desperate kisses. I focused on pleasuring him, and when he clamped his legs on my hips and cried out my name, I knew I’d hit the spot.

“Trowa, I love you,” I whispered with fierce conviction. All I could feel was him; his nails raking down my back, his teeth in my flesh, his body squirming beneath mine, his exquisite tightness enveloping me.

Our eyes locked on each other, and after that I couldn’t speak. I threw my head back and thrust harder and faster. I tried to hold my onrushing climax; but I felt like I would die if I weren’t sated soon. And then he was calling my name repeatedly, as he dug his heels into my back and spasm beneath me, his face shattering with the strength of his pleasure. I gripped his hips harder as lt hlt his muscles clench around me. Such exquisite sweetness. I couldn’t hold any longer. My vision blurred, my breathing harsh even as I emptied into him with a shudder.

I took a deep breath, my eyes remained fixed on his face. I knew. I knew that he was the most important person in my life. And I knew I needed him more than anything else.

I knew, with a shattering clarity, that even if I couldn’t forgive myself, it wouldn’t matter, because he would forgive me.

My tears splashed on his skin as my elbows finally give way and I collapsed over him. I buried my face in his neck and sobbed; I felt as if my very being had shattered into a million fragments and he had pieced them together again. And I realised belatedly that he had indeed claimed me and redeemed me from my sins, my guilt, my sorrow. He wiped the tears from my eyes and gathered my in his arms.

No words were spoken.

I exhaled, and with it I felt all my feeling of guilt and sorrow dissipate, like a mist in the morning sun.

I let out a sob that hitched in my throat.

“Trowa …”

It sounded like a sigh. It sounded like a plea.

We held each other in silence, lost in each other’s devotion and I knew that I have finally came home.


END

© Zed Adams, 2003.
Started: 29 July 2003
Completed: 3 August 2003
Archive: BOYSDORM

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Footnotes:
I was influenced by the writing styles of Roald Dahl, Anais Nin and Bram Stoker for this piece. They exuded such effortless grace, and I could only try to emulate their combined genius.

I was also influenced to some extent by the grace and styles of some of the writers in the HP fandom [my main fandom before Book5 made me contemplate quitting cold turkey]. I based my characters on my own interpretation of the GW anime and the mangas.

My readings of GW fan fiction have been very limited, as I only discovered this fandom approximately 6 weeks ago. RL obligations and the fact that I am very fussy reader meant that I prefer published works to fan fictions. Sometimes, phrases stuck to my mind, and may be consciously or subconsciously rehashed in my writings. If you notice any of yours, let me know and I will give you due credit J .

My boys’ affection and love may be idealistic. That is the way I see them, for I believe that love, trust and loyalty to each other will survive everything and anything that life throw in their path.

To paraphrase E.M. Forster, “Like Edward Carpenter, I believe that Uranians remained loyal to each other for ever. Even if loyalty cannot be counted on, it can always be hoped for and be worked towards and may flourish in the most unlikely soil.”


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