A PUBLIC FACE
3x4x3, yaoi, follow-up to A Hard Day, written for jania_monster for Trowa+Quatre day!
Trowa closed the heavy wooden double doors behind him and leant back against them with a heartfelt sigh.
“Are you stalking me?” came a soft chuckle from across the room.
He gasped and straightened up, ready with an apology. It had been the first door he came to; he didn’t know his way around the building; he just needed somewhere quiet to recover for a moment from the heat and the noise and the silent, scandalised stares…
Then he smiled with relief. “It’s you. What are you doing in here?”
Quatre moved towards him, smiling in return, though he looked a little strained. “Taking time out, perhaps – the same as you.”
He’d discarded his jacket and loosened his tie. Trowa frowned at him. “You’ll need to smarten up a bit, I’m afraid. You’re due to present the Young Entrepreneur of the Year Award at ten.”
Quatre shook his head slightly, as if dismissing his words. “They’ll manage without me. That guy from the reality show who won the high-paid executive job can do it. He’s itching to get back in front of the cameras.”
Trowa was concerned at the unusual sharpness of Quatre’s tone. “What’s wrong?”
Quatre stared back. “I could ask you the same. Why did you leave the banquet hall in the middle of dinner?”
“Taking time out, like you said -” Trowa began. Then he sighed, shaking his head. “No, it’s more than that. I needed… a break from it all.”
Quatre nodded. “I know exactly what you mean,” he murmured. For a long moment, they just looked at each other. Then Quatre took the last few steps to Trowa’s side and cupped the dark-haired man’s cheek in his hand. “Kiss me,” he whispered.
Trowa felt the warmth of his lover’s palm and nuzzled gently against him. “Not from this,” he whispered. “I didn’t want the break from this…”
Quatre hushed him. “I know. But I also know there are very proper ways to behave at such a formal function. I know all about it: years of practice, you see. You should be led by me in this case.”
“I should, should I?” Trowa tilted his head back gently, and Quatre’s fingers trailed down the line of his throat. He shivered. “So what’s the proper social response for this particular occasion?”
Quatre leant his blond head in against the dark one and breathed into Trowa’s ear. “I told you already. Kiss me. If you’re having some kind of problem with the etiquette…”
Trowa didn’t let him finish. He reached out, slipping a hand around the back of Quatre’s neck and pulling him in close. Their mouths met. Trowa could taste the champagne on Quatre’s lips. He licked swiftly along the plump flesh, then stabbed gently with his tongue into Quatre’s opening mouth. They gasped soft, nonsensical words at each other, physical excitement spiking through their bodies.
“This can’t be right,” hissed Trowa, temporarily breaking from the caress. His fingers tightened in the hair at Quatre’s collar. His knee nudged gently between Quatre’s thighs.
“What?” Quatre looked dazed. His mouth still ghosted over Trowa’s, looking for more.
“This can’t be the proper way to behave,” Trowa sighed. “Wanting to push you back over the elegant beech wood desk, kneel between your outstretched legs, and lick at your cock through your designer silk pants.”
“Oh shit,” groaned Quatre. “How am I meant to concentrate on announcing the winners in reverse order when I’m nursing a hard-on?”
Trowa laughed. After a minute, so did Quatre. “You’ll make this up to me,” he growled.
Trowa raised an eyebrow. “Well, I’ll have to see what the etiquette manual says about this kind of -”
“No,” said Quatre. “You misunderstand me. That wasn’t a question.” He reached for Trowa again and the kisses got deeper and more aggressive. “We’ll leave early,” he gasped. “To hell with the raspberry pavlova, even if it is my favourite.”
But Trowa didn’t smile this time. “The people out there…” He paused. “You were talking about the proper way to behave…”
“It was a joke,” said Quatre. His voice was slow, as if he trod carefully. “I wanted to make us smile; buoy us up. This evening’s been hard, I know. For you…”
“For both of us,” said Trowa, sharply. “I saw their faces when we arrived. The faces of the ones who were at the Board Meeting last month and heard your announcement about us – and then the ones who have only just learned about it tonight.”
“Our first night out, in a way,” murmured Quatre, but he delivered this joke a little weakly.
Trowa sighed. “Whatever respect they all have for you - had for you – some of them aren’t coming around to the idea that you’re dating a guy.”
Quatre frowned. “I’m not dating you. I’m living with you. I’m loving you.”
Trowa flushed. “Each day, I thank every deity ever invented for that precious truth.”
Quatre didn’t answer him: his own heart was beating very quickly. He wondered about returning the favour of bending Trowa back over the antique furniture and slipping his hand down inside the pants of his lover’s new suit. He wondered… and then he sighed. Not tonight. There’d been enough drama and emotional turmoil already.
Trowa took his hand. He hadn’t missed Quatre’s own nervousness; his distress at being in the centre of such tension. Quatre had borne the evening well and with his habitual politeness and professionalism – but enough was enough. “Let’s go back in together, OK? We’ll go back and face it, though only for a while. There’s no point in forcing things too quickly. Familiarity will take its own sweet time, I guess.”
“But it will come,” Quatre murmured.
Trowa nodded. “I don’t care if it doesn’t.”
“You do.” Quatre’s eyes were grave, but the expression soft. “I do, too.”
Trowa shrugged. “Maybe we do. But there are other things that I care more about. Now let’s go, and there may be some pavlova left over for you.”
Quatre didn’t move, his face rather flushed, just gazing at Trowa’s wide, green eyes.
“What is it?” Trowa asked. “Did you forget something?”
“No,” Quatre smiled, deeply and with evident pleasure. “Quite the opposite. I’m remembering. Remembering the many reasons I’d like to award something to you.”
Trowa frowned. “You’re a fool.” He was smiling again. “Talking nonsense.”
Quatre ignored him. He put a finger to his own mouth and ran it slowly along his lower lip. Then he slid his fingertip in and sucked at it, until a bubble of saliva leaked from the side of his mouth and left a glistening a trail on his knuckle.
Trowa felt a slow, warm flush run through his body. He looked into Quatre’s steady gaze and saw mischief there, and sexual invitation, too. He saw determination and a fierce spirit. He saw…
Everything that they had together. He wanted to touch him – and much, much more.
“Let’s go now,” he said, hoarsely. “Fuck the pavlova.”
Quatre’s grin was broad. “I’d rather not,” he replied, just as hoarsely. “I’ll call for the car at once.”