A Domestic Moment #5
Duo came back with the earliest of birds. He didn't bother keeping the noise down, fumbling with his key as he let himself back in, knocking against the coat stand and the heavy jacket he wished he’d taken with him.
Even so, he was surprised to see Trowa sitting quietly in the lounge. The TV was off. A book was laid on the table, a bookmark peeking from half-way through its pages.
They stared at each other for a moment.
Duo coughed. “Fucking cold out there.”
Trowa nodded silently. Duo knew the eloquence of Trowa’s silences. Hell, there was a wide portfolio of them, and let’s not forget their companions, the sighs. Trowa mobilized them when he was too damned tired to argue. Duo wondered when they’d both started to accept them in place of words.
“You want me to go?” He knew he sounded aggressive. He thought he’d worked off the pain and confusion, but guessed he was wrong. Again.
Trowa’s breath hitched and his eyes darkened. “No, of course not.”
Duo felt his heart rock with pleasure but he couldn’t seem to make it reach his face. The scowl was a furrow between his eyes, making him squint at Trowa as the other man rose to his feet.
“No,” Duo said sharply, interrupting him. He took three quick steps into the middle of the room, banging his shin against the table, stumbling awkwardly up against Trowa’s outstretched hands. “I’m shit.”
Trowa rushed to speak at the same time, gripping at Duo’s arms. “I don’t make it easy.”
Duo reached around Trowa’s neck, tangling his hands in the soft, dark hair that nestled against his spine in the night. “Neither of us does.” Trowa’s breath was warm and urgent on his face, their mouths clumsy with need.
“I’ll try –“ Trowa started.
“Shut up,” growled Duo. “It’s fine. It’s good. Not now. Tomorrow.” He opened his mouth to Trowa’s tongue and felt the shiver run through his whole body. He was already toeing off his boots, damp with the morning dew from the lawn outside the apartment. He grabbed the hem of Trowa’s vest and peeled it up over his head. Trowa lifted his arms, most helpfully.
“Tomorrow,” echoed Trowa, nodding, smiling hesitantly. He clasped Duo like he was precious which, of course, he was, even if no-one ever said it. “But now…”
Duo only groaned, tugging his lover to the floor, right there in front of the silent TV, kicking the table to the side, careless of the book as it tumbled to the floor. The need and the fear would make him fast but – he hoped – not too fierce.
Trowa grunted once and Duo paused in his thrusts, panting, watching as his lover’s fingers clawed at the carpet. The air hummed with tension, their breath smelt of lust and familiar tastes. Duo couldn’t remember why he’d ever thought anywhere else – anyone else – could compare. The feelings were sharp and rich and ran along his nerves like goose bumps.
They didn’t have time or appetite for talk. But the silence this time was hot and satisfying. He thought he might develop a portfolio of his own. One day.