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keelywolfeTitle: The Psychology of Little Boy Lost
by Keelywolfe
Pairing: 1x3, or Heero/Trowa
Rating: R
Notes: This little ficlet is for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
damoyre, who has always wanted me to write Heero/Trowa. I can't say if this is what she wanted or what I expected to write, but this is the one I had in me. Enjoy. ;)
~~*~~
He couldn't sleep.
The moon was low and bloated in the sky, casting the last of its light over the tents and cages. Trowa sat on the outskirts within one of the unused animal houses, the smell of hay tickling in his nose like a sneeze. He should rest, he knew. A soldier needed sleep, his body needed rest like it needed food, needed warmth but he could only force it to do so much. He could choke down a rotten apple if need be, he could curl into a stinking blanket. Sleep eluded him, his control over that aspect of himself anemic and weak. So he sat, watching the moon through barred windows, only portions of yellow visible to his eyes.
He heard Heero before he saw him and knew it was only because he'd been allowed that courtesy. Heero's skin was ghostly in the faint light, covered with a blanket and bandages, little else.
He slipped in behind Trowa, his back against the unpainted wooden wall. Slid his hands beneath Trowa's shirt, pulling it up and over his head before wrapping the blanket around them both. Trowa endured the growing sweatiness of touching skin to stay warm, fingers of cold creeping in through folds of the blanket. The moon was sinking lower and poured itself in, filling whatever spaces it could touch.
"Are you cold?" Heero's voice was soft, blurred against the soft skin at Trowa's throat.
"No," he said, his eyes open to look at the rough wood above them. He kept his eyes open through it all, strong fingers moving over him with surprising ease. His eyes saw graying wood, the light creeping in through the slats to form bars of darkness and illumination while his body accepted whatever passed for affection from Heero Yuy.
He didn't make a sound, couldn't, words tangled and caught in his throat where they often stayed, only a faint inhalation escaped him, his fingernails digging half-moons into Heero's shoulders as he pushed inside. Even after a half dozen times that first press still hurt, Heero's mouth on his as though to catch a cry that would never come and Trowa took tongue and cock into his body while they moved together, silence in and of itself within the rustling whispers of hay.
Caught in a bright wash of light, Heero's face was luminescent. Eyes closed and his tongue caught softly between his teeth, more statue-like in his arched pose than he ever seemed in his cool distance, a new face unwrapping itself to Trowa's eyes. Beneath him, still in cooler darkness, Trowa closed his own eyes and strove for a sameness, to equal the wet, hot rush of it inside him and thought he only managed an echo, a paler mirror of Heero like the moon reflecting the sun.
Warm, dry hands held his own, fingers entwined. There were no words between them, Heero slipping into sleep with a practiced ease that Trowa couldn't find it within him to mimic. Instead, Trowa watched the moon with their mingled sweat drying to coolness on his skin, her silent, liquid glow covering them both, interspersed with the slashed darkness of the bars.
-finis-
by Keelywolfe
Pairing: 1x3, or Heero/Trowa
Rating: R
Notes: This little ficlet is for
damoyre, who has always wanted me to write Heero/Trowa. I can't say if this is what she wanted or what I expected to write, but this is the one I had in me. Enjoy. ;)~~*~~
He couldn't sleep.
The moon was low and bloated in the sky, casting the last of its light over the tents and cages. Trowa sat on the outskirts within one of the unused animal houses, the smell of hay tickling in his nose like a sneeze. He should rest, he knew. A soldier needed sleep, his body needed rest like it needed food, needed warmth but he could only force it to do so much. He could choke down a rotten apple if need be, he could curl into a stinking blanket. Sleep eluded him, his control over that aspect of himself anemic and weak. So he sat, watching the moon through barred windows, only portions of yellow visible to his eyes.
He heard Heero before he saw him and knew it was only because he'd been allowed that courtesy. Heero's skin was ghostly in the faint light, covered with a blanket and bandages, little else.
He slipped in behind Trowa, his back against the unpainted wooden wall. Slid his hands beneath Trowa's shirt, pulling it up and over his head before wrapping the blanket around them both. Trowa endured the growing sweatiness of touching skin to stay warm, fingers of cold creeping in through folds of the blanket. The moon was sinking lower and poured itself in, filling whatever spaces it could touch.
"Are you cold?" Heero's voice was soft, blurred against the soft skin at Trowa's throat.
"No," he said, his eyes open to look at the rough wood above them. He kept his eyes open through it all, strong fingers moving over him with surprising ease. His eyes saw graying wood, the light creeping in through the slats to form bars of darkness and illumination while his body accepted whatever passed for affection from Heero Yuy.
He didn't make a sound, couldn't, words tangled and caught in his throat where they often stayed, only a faint inhalation escaped him, his fingernails digging half-moons into Heero's shoulders as he pushed inside. Even after a half dozen times that first press still hurt, Heero's mouth on his as though to catch a cry that would never come and Trowa took tongue and cock into his body while they moved together, silence in and of itself within the rustling whispers of hay.
Caught in a bright wash of light, Heero's face was luminescent. Eyes closed and his tongue caught softly between his teeth, more statue-like in his arched pose than he ever seemed in his cool distance, a new face unwrapping itself to Trowa's eyes. Beneath him, still in cooler darkness, Trowa closed his own eyes and strove for a sameness, to equal the wet, hot rush of it inside him and thought he only managed an echo, a paler mirror of Heero like the moon reflecting the sun.
Warm, dry hands held his own, fingers entwined. There were no words between them, Heero slipping into sleep with a practiced ease that Trowa couldn't find it within him to mimic. Instead, Trowa watched the moon with their mingled sweat drying to coolness on his skin, her silent, liquid glow covering them both, interspersed with the slashed darkness of the bars.
-finis-
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2004-10-30 10:26 pm (UTC)I knew you could do it. I knew it. ^________^
I'm getting shivers and... *squeee*! Have I mentioned that your Trowa rocks? *sighs*
Sorry if I'm babbling. If I was an anime character, I'd probably be turning chibi with little stars in my eyes and hearts and sparkly stuff all around my head right about now. *_*
Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2004-11-07 02:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-10-31 01:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-11-07 02:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-11-01 07:57 am (UTC)My favourite parts were: Trowa took tongue and cock into his body and
and thought he only managed an echo, a paler mirror of Heero like the moon reflecting the sun.
no subject
Date: 2004-11-01 07:57 am (UTC)eloquent
no subject
Date: 2004-11-07 02:48 pm (UTC)