Scenes from a non-PWP
Sep. 18th, 2001 10:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
windandwaterHeero's hands were brusque -- much like his bedside manner was -- though Quatre did not blame him. He simply sat in his chair, watching as Heero snapped off the cap to the bottle of sunscreen and squeezed a fair amount into his tanned hands.
"I'm sorry to ask you to do this, Heero."
"Hn."
The Japanese boy nearly slapped his hands down across Quatre's back and he did not bother to hide the wince as he felt the sting of his sunburn. Any longer and he would have been burnt to a crisp. Then Heero started to rub the slippery lotion across his shoulders and arms in rough motions. This wouldn't do at all.
"Itai!" Quatre yelped. "Heero, that hurts!"
"You should have remembered to do this *before* you spent an hour in the sun."
But his hands became more gentle. To encourage him, Quatre leaned into Heero's hands, quietly manipulating both of their bodies to send out positive signals. Quatre rolled his neck and shoulders, as if warding off any soreness or stiffness.
"I suppose you're right."
"Hn."
And then Heero's hands were there, rubbing at the knots that had gathered in Quatre's shoulders. It was an expert massage; one delivered by a person who knew just what it felt like to be sore and wanted to get rid of the feeling immediately. Quatre leaned further back into Heero's touch, eyelids dropping in a hazy sense of pleasure.
There. There it was. That change. That shift. That almost-impossible-to-notice change of Heero's hands. No longer were they detached and clinical; they had become alive, running smoothly across Quatre's shoulders and upper arms. He was reacting. He was enjoying. Heero Yuy was *feeling.* Quatre made a soft, appreciative noise in his throat as Heero's hands travelled down the length of his back. And, as if burnt, Heero's hands jerked and he stopped his movements. Looking with a slanted glance over his shoulder, the blond quirked and eyebrow at his companion.
"Is there something wrong, Heero?" he asked with a slight drawl.
"Hn." Strong hands fumbled with the bottle of sunscreen again and Quatre hissed as he felt the cool salve being worked into his heated skin again. Judging from Heero's reaction, and the fact that his hands were once again moving in precise, almost mechanical motions, Quatre knew that he had managed to put another chip into the Japanese boy's armor.
But it was enough.
He had felt how Heero's hands had softened against his skin, becoming more caressing than perfunctory. The dark-haired youth had *enjoyed* placing his hands across Quatre's willing and open body. Even now the memories of wantonly running his hands across the smooth alabaster of Quatre's back were probably running through Heero's mind over and over again. Like a forced looping playback of a battle or skirmish. But the Arabian knew that this was one war that the Perfect Soldier would not be able to win. If he judged correctly, any moment now, Heero would...
The warm hands were abruptly removed from his back and the top was snapped onto the bottle.
... Heero would stop because he was confused.
Quatre looked past the shade of golden-blond obscuring his vision and smiled at Heero. His wide marine eyes marked how Heero continued to wipe his hands against the towel on the bed, how the other boy would rub at his hands as if to remove some invisible stain on his soul. Too easy. It was far too easy.
"Are you all done, Heero?"
"Hn."
"Well, thank you for doing this for me."
"Hn."
And in a bold manuever, Quatre's marine eyes held Prussian blue in a heavy look. And, fully knowing that Heero was watching, Quatre allowed his eyes to rake down the other boy's body, sampling the sight of toned muscle encased in blue jeans and the slight bulge beginning to form. Dark brows raised in response. The Arabian caught sight of flushed cheeks and open pink lips before the mask froze over Heero's features again.
"I better get back to the plants now."
Quatre breezed through the room, making sure not to brush up against the other boy any more, and out into the sunny garden yet again.
He left Heero Yuy in the living room.
Frustrated.
Confused.
And alone.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Heero: Well, at least I'm not shell-shocked and naked.
Quatre: Not *yet,* anyway.
Heero: [glare]
Quatre: If only you *knew,* Yuy. [Quatre breaks off and shakes his head] Oh. [looks down and realizes he's still in his Little Little Shorts (TM)] Oh dear. I went non-PWP again, didn't I?
Heero: Perfect time to get hit with *that* bunny, Winner. Just when I think you can't get any more depraved and *fucked,* you pull off something like this.
Quatre: [reads the snip and blanches] I'm so--
Heero: [holds up a hand] Don't even bother apologizing. If I hear one more "I'm sorry" from you tonight, I'm going to be ill.
Duo: [pokes his head in the room] You guys done in here? Looks like the Writer is taking a fanfic break to scrub her brains out.
"I'm sorry to ask you to do this, Heero."
"Hn."
The Japanese boy nearly slapped his hands down across Quatre's back and he did not bother to hide the wince as he felt the sting of his sunburn. Any longer and he would have been burnt to a crisp. Then Heero started to rub the slippery lotion across his shoulders and arms in rough motions. This wouldn't do at all.
"Itai!" Quatre yelped. "Heero, that hurts!"
"You should have remembered to do this *before* you spent an hour in the sun."
But his hands became more gentle. To encourage him, Quatre leaned into Heero's hands, quietly manipulating both of their bodies to send out positive signals. Quatre rolled his neck and shoulders, as if warding off any soreness or stiffness.
"I suppose you're right."
"Hn."
And then Heero's hands were there, rubbing at the knots that had gathered in Quatre's shoulders. It was an expert massage; one delivered by a person who knew just what it felt like to be sore and wanted to get rid of the feeling immediately. Quatre leaned further back into Heero's touch, eyelids dropping in a hazy sense of pleasure.
There. There it was. That change. That shift. That almost-impossible-to-notice change of Heero's hands. No longer were they detached and clinical; they had become alive, running smoothly across Quatre's shoulders and upper arms. He was reacting. He was enjoying. Heero Yuy was *feeling.* Quatre made a soft, appreciative noise in his throat as Heero's hands travelled down the length of his back. And, as if burnt, Heero's hands jerked and he stopped his movements. Looking with a slanted glance over his shoulder, the blond quirked and eyebrow at his companion.
"Is there something wrong, Heero?" he asked with a slight drawl.
"Hn." Strong hands fumbled with the bottle of sunscreen again and Quatre hissed as he felt the cool salve being worked into his heated skin again. Judging from Heero's reaction, and the fact that his hands were once again moving in precise, almost mechanical motions, Quatre knew that he had managed to put another chip into the Japanese boy's armor.
But it was enough.
He had felt how Heero's hands had softened against his skin, becoming more caressing than perfunctory. The dark-haired youth had *enjoyed* placing his hands across Quatre's willing and open body. Even now the memories of wantonly running his hands across the smooth alabaster of Quatre's back were probably running through Heero's mind over and over again. Like a forced looping playback of a battle or skirmish. But the Arabian knew that this was one war that the Perfect Soldier would not be able to win. If he judged correctly, any moment now, Heero would...
The warm hands were abruptly removed from his back and the top was snapped onto the bottle.
... Heero would stop because he was confused.
Quatre looked past the shade of golden-blond obscuring his vision and smiled at Heero. His wide marine eyes marked how Heero continued to wipe his hands against the towel on the bed, how the other boy would rub at his hands as if to remove some invisible stain on his soul. Too easy. It was far too easy.
"Are you all done, Heero?"
"Hn."
"Well, thank you for doing this for me."
"Hn."
And in a bold manuever, Quatre's marine eyes held Prussian blue in a heavy look. And, fully knowing that Heero was watching, Quatre allowed his eyes to rake down the other boy's body, sampling the sight of toned muscle encased in blue jeans and the slight bulge beginning to form. Dark brows raised in response. The Arabian caught sight of flushed cheeks and open pink lips before the mask froze over Heero's features again.
"I better get back to the plants now."
Quatre breezed through the room, making sure not to brush up against the other boy any more, and out into the sunny garden yet again.
He left Heero Yuy in the living room.
Frustrated.
Confused.
And alone.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Heero: Well, at least I'm not shell-shocked and naked.
Quatre: Not *yet,* anyway.
Heero: [glare]
Quatre: If only you *knew,* Yuy. [Quatre breaks off and shakes his head] Oh. [looks down and realizes he's still in his Little Little Shorts (TM)] Oh dear. I went non-PWP again, didn't I?
Heero: Perfect time to get hit with *that* bunny, Winner. Just when I think you can't get any more depraved and *fucked,* you pull off something like this.
Quatre: [reads the snip and blanches] I'm so--
Heero: [holds up a hand] Don't even bother apologizing. If I hear one more "I'm sorry" from you tonight, I'm going to be ill.
Duo: [pokes his head in the room] You guys done in here? Looks like the Writer is taking a fanfic break to scrub her brains out.
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Date: 2001-09-18 11:29 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-06-12 05:23 pm (UTC)(no subject)
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