Plastic 66

Though there were currently a number of parts of Trowa that he thought could not possibly feel any better, still, overall, he felt a lot better once the light was off and his body was hidden from sight.

Quatre had flitted around, getting them cleaned up, letting Trowa remain still and contemplative, going to shut off the lamp in the study next door as well as the light in this room, and at last returning to join Trowa underneath the blanket. Then he curled up right against him, one arm across Trowa’s chest and his breath warm on Trowa’s neck.

Trowa was concentrating in some fascination on the sensations in his lower half: a warm, pervasive satisfaction contrasted with an aching soreness, not to mention the very present, very visceral memory of how it had felt to be so filled, so tight… He never could have imagined how good it would be. But he was also pleased by this gentler contact; Quatre’s fingers were sliding slowly over his chest, exploring him almost lazily.

“You know,” Quatre said presently, “I was expecting your skin to glow in the dark.”

Trowa wasn’t really sure what to say to that. His skin was horribly pale; he supposed it would make some sense for it to phosphoresce.

“Your eyes actually glow…” Quatre went on, leaning forward so he was speaking against Trowa’s shoulder in a sort of conversational kiss. “And your skin sort of glows in the light, so I’m a little surprised it doesn’t in the dark.” When Trowa still had nothing to say, Quatre finished, “Either way, you have the most beautiful skin I’ve ever seen.”

Now Trowa was startled. He’d thought Quatre was remarking on the properties of his cursed body as an insect collector might note some interesting feature of a new specimen; that there could be admiration in the comment had never crossed Trowa’s mind. “It’s so unnatural,” he protested.

“Oh, I know… but it’s a nice unnatural. It’s like a shell — one of those ones that looks like it’s going to be transparent before you pick it up, but then turns out not to be. Besides…” Quatre nuzzled his face against Trowa’s arm with a little contented sigh. “I doubt it was the curse that made it feel so smooth and soft. I wonder if it’s just that the air here is perfect for it, or that you never bathe, or both, or what…” He pressed his lips to Trowa’s shoulder again and then lay still.

Trowa’s level of pleasure at this compliment was unexpectedly great, perhaps because it had come from someone that had just made him feel so amazingly good. He’d always regarded his skin as vaguely distasteful in this state, but he didn’t think Quatre was lying about finding it attractive.

“I’m interested in seeing what you’ll look like once the curse is broken, too,” mused Quatre. “I do hope it won’t change too much, though.”

“Just the skin and the eyes, as far as I remember… though I don’t know why you wouldn’t want to change the rest of it at the same time.”

Quatre snorted. “The rest of what, Trowa? These amazing shoulders? Your perfect chest? This flat stomach? This nice long cock? Your sexy legs?” He touched each as he mentioned it, and Trowa shivered. “Because if you were thinking of trying to change any of that with magic or whatever, I’ll have to officially complain.”

“But I’m so…” Trowa searched for a word that would describe what he was — a starved little pathetic half-man like some sort of skeletal cave-dwelling creature that should probably never come out into the light — and eventually settled for one that only said a small part: “…skinny.”

“Well, I won’t say you couldn’t do with some meat on your bones, but that doesn’t mean they’re not very nice bones.” Quatre chuckled. “And I’ve already gotten you started on a regular routine of eating once a day!”

“So that’s what that’s about.” Trowa’s tone was only half-joking as he implied that Quatre was trying to fatten him up in order to make him more attractive.

“It’s because,” Quatre said somewhat severely, “eating regularly is healthy. And because you’ll need to be in the habit once the curse is broken. And also,” he added more lightly, “because it’s enjoyable, and I want to tempt you into all the pleasures of the flesh.”

Trowa raised a hand to clasp the one of Quatre’s that lay on his chest. “Well, you’re off to an excellent start.”

“‘Excellent?'” Quatre sounded pleased. “Is that how you’d describe it?”

“If you mean the sex…” Trowa took a deep breath. “I don’t really have words to describe it, but ‘excellent’ isn’t a bad place to start.” He tried a few others anyway, trailing off eventually in a murmur: “Amazing… spectacular… incredible…”

“Oh, good,” Quatre said emphatically.

“Were you worried?” wondered Trowa in surprise that bordered on disbelief.

Quatre’s hand squeezed his, and the arm connected to it pressed down in a sort of half hug. “Of course I was. I don’t think anyone ever has sex without being a little worried that the other person won’t like it… and, besides, it was your first time, and sometimes that’s not… as good as it could be.”

“It was good,” Trowa said, astonished to find himself offering what seemed to be reassurance to Quatre. “Better than ‘good.'”

“I’m glad,” said Quatre happily. “It was great for me too.”

“‘Great?'” Trowa echoed cautiously. “Not ‘All right considering I had no idea what I was doing?'” And even ‘doing’ was a generous term, as Trowa had spent most of the time frozen in uncertainty.

“You did fine. It was ‘great.’ It was wonderful. You felt soooo good.”

Trowa found his face heating. “So did you,” he said softly.

“Mmm,” said Quatre, and clasped him tightly.

A long silence passed in warmth and comfort, and Trowa thought Quatre had fallen asleep until he spoke again quietly, very seriously and perhaps even a little forlornly: “I hope you aren’t regretting it or feeling guilty…”

“I’m…” The best Trowa could manage was, “I’m trying not to.”

“I wish I could help you with that,” Quatre said sadly.

Now it was Trowa’s turn to squeeze Quatre’s hand. “Just having you here helps.”

Eventually Quatre’s breathing lengthened and regulated, and Trowa lay in the dark holding his hand, enjoying the warmth of him at his side, and pondering. There was still a part of him maintaining that someone like him didn’t deserve anything like this, didn’t deserve to feel pleasure or contentment; that Quatre was too good for him, and this entire relationship was an inappropriate distraction from what really mattered…

But there was another part, and it was growing stronger, that argued that this wasn’t hurting Duo or prolonging the curse; that Quatre was a very intelligent man and could choose his dalliances as he saw fit; that perhaps even someone like Trowa, even someone that had cursed his best friend, could enjoy himself every now and then without throwing the universe out of balance. He wasn’t sure how much he believed all of this, and perhaps it was just the afterglow talking anyway, but surely the fact that the thoughts were there at all must be a step in the direction Quatre wanted him to take.

And he had been completely serious before; having Quatre there did help. Quatre was still his buffer against self-loathing and shame, and feeling him lying there, solid and warm beside him, made Trowa’s thoughts, made Trowa’s life — seemed, indeed, to make all of existence significantly brighter.

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