AN: What happened after The First of April! Did Trowa ever go back to Midii/Madiyah? What do you think ^_~ Besides with Price of Redemption far from over and Midii and Trowa separated (boo hoo) for now, I owe a lot of readers a nice fluffy citrus fic (complete with unabashed Tro-worship) and this is it. hopefully this will tide you over for a bit. Yes this has a lemon warning!!! ID’s checked at the door by Tro-chan’s lion (grrrrrrr)
If you haven’t read The First of April you may be a bit lost here but you’ll get over it! Better yet go back and read the companion fic! If you read this one first you’ll be totally spoiled, too late, you probably already are ^_~
Heck, truth to tell I’m very disappointed with the response to that fic (pout) so here’s a commercial for it, go back and read and review it PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE?!?!?! Thanks muy much to those who did review or write to me ^_^ This sequel is dedicated to you!
///_-; (she has no shame)
The First of April: Can Quatre, the son of a pacifist family really reconcile himself to the life of a Gundam pilot? Meanwhile, Trowa Barton, a lifelong soldier, finds himself falling in love with one of his fellow pilots, but is that pilot the person he thinks it is?
Dig if you will a picture
of you and I engaged in a kiss
the sweat of your body covers me
can you my darling
can you picture this ?
When Doves Cry—Prince
(gah!! That song is so HOT, perfect for desert love scenes, drat, a spoiler, giggle, I kept too many secrets in the last fic to keep any now . . . .///_-;)
(Sequel to The First of April)
By Midii Une
Finding Madiyah again would be no easy task, Trowa thought. Now that he had made his decision he looked impatiently at the daunting expanse of desert drawn on the map Quatre had given him.
“She will be happy to see you, Trowa,” Quatre had said. He was a good person. Trowa had gotten to know him better during the incident with Mariemaia Barton but he had been disappointed that Midii, no, Madiyah had not come to fight. She had remained in space with the Maganacs and he had not seen her.
But that had been the catalyst, after that he thought of her more and more often until remembrance became obsession and the memory of their one brief kiss became the focal point of his desire—to find her again.
Since the end of the war in AC 195 the Maganacs, like all other soldiers, had given up fighting. Quatre had told him that they now lived a traditional nomadic lifestyle, moving their small tent city from oasis to oasis whenever the spirit moved them.
The Arabian traders were hesitant to sell a jeep to a teenager who looked as if he’d never set foot in the desert before. But the young man’s green eyes were like weapons and the determination in them was unshakable. So they sold him the jeep and directed him where he wanted to go with vague hand gestures and mentions of landmarks that shifted in the endless sandstorms.
Trowa rolled up the sleeves of his thin white cotton shirt, the top button and several more were undone. The jeep had no working air-conditioning of course, a performer with a traveling circus couldn’t afford such luxuries, he thought wryly as the dry heat made sweat pop out on his forehead, his long bangs sticking to the moisture.
Something, he didn’t know if it was fate or desire, pulled him in the right direction, a meandering southeast track in the sand showing him the way.
Sunset approached and the vista of sand changed, the colors a palette of pinks and reds, a welcome relief from the monotonous browns and beiges of the desert in the heat of the day but the hot air still wavered in watery mirages. Trowa stopped the jeep and poked first his arms then his head from the top of the open vehicle, casting aside his wide-brimmed hat and wiping the sweat from his forehead uselessly with his soaked shirt sleeve. What he saw made him catch his breath though the figure was too far away to see clearly.
She walked along the top of the hard-crusted dunes, jumping gracefully over the little gullies in movements reminiscent of the tight-rope walkers he worked with at the circus. Her pale hair, or possibly a veil, streamed behind her when she jumped and through the waves of heat she looked like a watercolor painting set in motion. As he watched, enthralled, the sun set lower and she became a black silhouette against the rosy-red ball of fire, her lithe figure outlined against the sinking star.
He left the jeep behind and started to walk. The vehicle was like an abomination in this peaceful place of solitude and pure sands.
Madiyah knelt before a silver bowl in her room. She doused a silk cloth in the cool water of the basin and smoothed the wet material over her face. She closed her eyes and drew it softly over her arms and collarbone, and then across the smooth, taut skin of her bare midriff, removing the desert dust from her fair skin. Madi loved the sunset, she didn’t dare go out any earlier, the light was too harsh for her European complexion. But at sunset she was safe.
She stared into her own blue eyes in the reflection of the water as she brushed out her hair. In the two years since the end of the war it had grown out past her shoulder blades, two stubborn golden waves falling forward and framing her face as they always had. She sighed and blew a stray strand of hair from her face, a frown marring her smooth forehead as her eyes fell on the latest letter she had received from Dorothy.
When will you give up waiting around for your Orsino? Come stay with Sebastian and I for a while, it’s been ages. Aren’t you bored with all that sand? You know that you are always welcome. Please consider it this time! And look what I’ve found while shopping (you should have been with me, it would have been such fun) a copy of Twelfth Night!! In Arabic no less, you can read it aloud to your 40 uncles when you have nothing better to do. Now please Viola, Orsino is stubborn and you need to live a little. Don’t force my hand or I’ll have my darling Sebastian order your father to send you to us for a visit.
She sighed. Dorothy had become a very good, though rather domineering, friend. And she and Master Quatre had found they had much in common after meeting on the MO-II. Madiyah had been relieved that Dorothy had surprisingly found the entire episode a huge joke, when everything had finally come to light.
“It’s just like Shakespeare,” she’d said, laughing a bit nervously in remembrance of the kisses she’d given Madiyah when she’d arrived on MO-II. “I shall have to call you Viola from now on.”
Maybe she’d take Dorothy up on her invitation. She loved it here, truly, but the lure of shopping with her friend was rather tempting. The huge colonial shopping malls on L-4 were a far cry from the desert bazaars she contented herself with.
Madiyah looked up as she heard the subtle sound of a throat clearing. She smiled. It was her father’s way of knocking on a door that was nothing more than a translucent silken barrier between her little nest of pillows and girlish belongings and the more masculine quarters of the Maganacs.
“Yes father,” she said, bowing her head a little. He liked to be treated with respect, and out of love she did so. He had always treated her like a cherished daughter and she adored him and deferred to him in return.
“You have a visitor,” Rasid said, trying to keep his voice non-commital and maintain the atmosphere of surprise he wanted her to feel when she saw who it was.
She raised her thin, pale brows in surprise. She knew no one except her father and his comrades. An unruly, jolly group of uncles who would kill to keep her safe and happy. But that was unnecessary now that peace had truly come, both to the world and to her heart. Yes, she thought, she had made peace with all those she had ever hurt and that would have to be enough. It was more than she had ever hoped to achieve. But even as she thought the words a shadow of disappointment that she had never seen him again darkened her shining eyes.
Madiyah moved past her father, but Rasid stopped her with a hand and lifted the veil that hung from the golden band in her floating hair. She looked at him quizzically as he fastened it gently on the other side of her face.
“Who is it,” she asked, a woman only covered her face before strangers and strangers never came here.
“Someone with intentions toward you Madi,” he said, repressing a grin.
“Oh,” she said, and the Maganac leader detected fear in the girl’s voice.
“It will always be your choice, don’t be afraid,” he said, running a hand over her silken hair and patting her shoulder when she flung her tiny form against his huge one, her slender arms unable to meet around his massive build.
Madiyah walked with her head down. Who could have come, she wondered, no one knew she was here. But of course with 30-odd bragging uncles who had no doubt gossiped that their niece was the most beautiful and perfect woman in the desert it was probably inevitable that some curious soul would show up to look at her eventually. She sighed and hoped the ordeal would be over with quickly.
Without looking she pushed aside the rough curtain of heavy cotton twill and dropped gracefully to the floor on her knees, barely glimpsing a tall, masculine figure standing in the dark corner of the room with his arms folded over his chest.
Her breathing was uneven with nervousness as she heard the man approach her slowly and her throat tightened with fear. Ridiculous, she chided herself, your father and uncles are outside, no one would dare . . . and yet she still felt fear, afraid of ever leaving this safe, hidden place for anyone as she someday must. She was happy and protected here. There was only one who could tempt her to leave this little Eden and he had forgotten she existed it seemed.
He knelt before her, silenced by the sensation of having her reflected in his eyes once more. The years had changed her and it would have been impossible for anyone to ever mistake her for a boy now. Her platinum blonde hair fell in luxurious waves over her bare shoulders and from his angle he looked down on the gentle rise and fall of her full, round breasts as they strained beneath the gleaming pale blue silk midriff blouse she wore.
She gasped and looked at him at last as he reached for the edge of her veil, falling back away from him in shock and catching herself on her elbows as she realized who it was.
“Trowa,” she whispered, as he continued reaching forward and unhooked the veil from her face, the bare touch of his fingers on her cheek sending a quiver through her body. He leaned over her, tempted by her suddenly prone position, trapping her beneath his long body and thinking that her eyes were as welcome as the cool water he had bathed in earlier.
Madiyah pulled herself together and moved away a bit but found her progress impeded by a massive pole that supported the canvas tenting that sheltered them. Her heart pounded as his eyes caught hers again and they stared at each other for an endless moment before she spoke again.
“Two years Trowa,” she said, sadness and a hint of bitterness in her voice. She pulled herself up to a sitting position with the pole at her back, but he moved with her, so close she could feel the cool moisture from his damp hair and see the way the fresh white shirt clung to his damp skin, outlining the shape of his muscles beneath the thin material. “Why are you here now?”
He reached out and caught her small hand in his, he kept his eyes down, studying the effect of her fair skin against his sun-bronzed fingers. Finally he answered.
“It took a year before I could even figure out how I felt about everything,” Trowa said softly. “Then when I knew what I wanted, it took another year to convince myself I was truly feeling something for another person and that you would want me to come to you here.”
“What makes you so sure now,” she asked, unable to resist the temptation to punish him a bit after how long he’d made her wait. But the words were soft and he heard the flirtatious note in them and smiled at her, sliding his hand around the curve of her waist. He heard her whimper softly at his touch.
“I’m not sure about your feelings,” he said, circling his other hand around her waist and drawing her closer. “But I know that I love you. I love you Midii, Quatre, Madiyah, whoever the hell you are. Man or woman, I love you. Please forgive me for having waited far too long to come for you.”
Tears filled her wide blue eyes, tears of joy and disbelief and she felt his mouth move softly over her cheek as his body pressed hers back against the pole and she turned her face up to his as he knelt over her and tasted her tears.
“Don’t cry Madi,” he begged. “Your father will kill me. He made that perfectly clear when he let me come in.”
“I won’t let him,” she promised, her voice shaking with emotion, tears rolling softly from the corners of her eyes as she stared into his intense green gaze until she was overwhelmed and shut her eyes, leaning her head back against the supporting pole.
Trowa looked down at her flushed, wet face, his eyes drawn to her soft, pink parted lips before he swiftly covered them with his own again. He heard her moan softly deep in her throat and he deepened the kiss, tentatively touching her lips with his tongue and plunging inside to explore her mouth when she opened to him unhesitatingly. His hands slid slowly down her arms savoring the feel of her warm, soft skin. His fingers brushing shyly against the fullness of her breasts beneath the thin silk then continuing down her arms till they circled her slender wrists and he pressed himself closer to her as he pulled her arms around the back of the pole, capturing her neatly and holding her there as the position made her arch closer to him.
He felt the soft touch of her tongue moving with his as she moaned again, begging for more. He kissed her till she was breathless and struggling against him, but yet he held her still as he moved his head from hers finally and caressed the column of her neck with his lips before moving along to her shoulders, his tongue flicking out to taste her occasionally and his teeth nipping at her collarbone. His exploring mouth made it to the swell of her breasts and he kissed them through the thin material that was now molded to her curves with perspiration.
“Oh Allah. Oh Trowa,” she gasped. “Let me touch you or I will scream.”
He looked into her passion-glazed eyes and a wicked smile lit his face as he tightened his hold on her wrists and stifled her cries with his mouth again, her soft whimpers breaking his resolve at last and he finally loosened his hold on her and she greedily and immediately wrapped her arms around him, raking her nails eagerly across the back of his shirt before she moved herself forward in a practiced assault move and pushed him back onto the lush Persian rug and straddled him, returning his kisses and ripping his shirt open, popping the buttons. She took a moment to grin down at him victoriously as she moved her hands over his bare chest, lightly slicked with sweat, before she bent her head to his again and kissed him, sheltering their faces beneath the curtains of her silky hair.
Madi laid herself down on top of Trowa and smiled, moving her hands in feather-light circles over his skin and moving her hips in a restless rhythm against his. Trowa closed his eyes and tuned his senses to her touch, the delicate touch of her fingers on his skin, the feel of her warm breath against his chest, her silky, spreading hair was fragrant with jasmine and it fell over him like the lightest, softest of blankets. The movement of her hips as she rubbed against him created an urge that grew until he clenched his hands in the rug beneath him and at last he could bear it no longer.
An almost feral growl escaped his lips and Madiyah’s blue eyes shot open, wide and wondering at the sound as he tightened his arms around her again and rolled her beneath him, pinning her to the floor with his weight. He stared down into those wide, waiting blue eyes before grinding into her, the evidence of his desire hot and straining as he parted her slim thighs with his knee. His hands traveled up and down the length of her body, lingering when her breath came faster and she voiced her pleasure and he finally found his way into the silky wealth of her hair, he twisted his fingers in it to hold her head still as he kissed her deeply as she tried desperately to arch her body to meet his.
A rustling sound and a clinking demanded Madiyah’s attention and faraway smells of cooking rice and roasting meat set off a warning bell in her head.
“Trowa,” she groaned, the sound of her voice saying his name only increasing his passion, making her want to ignore what she knew was coming. But that would be disastrous. His lips on hers begged her attention, the sensual motion of his hands on her body tried to erase thoughts of responsibility. She tried to recite the Five Pillars of Islam to herself in order to regain her self-control but the words wouldn’t come, her mind was full of him.
Masculine laughter and low voices became audible and she knew she had to pull herself together.
“Trowa,” she began again, her voice pleading.
“Dining room,” she moaned urgently as his hand slipped beneath the silk that covered her breasts and she felt his fingers exploring.
“Not hungry,” he growled. “Except for you . . .”
“No,” she said, reluctantly extricating herself from his embrace and rising quickly to straighten her clothes. “This is the dining room.”
A bright red flush colored Trowa’s face as he looked up from his awkward position on the floor at her feet and saw the large room fill quickly with people. He scrambled quickly to a more dignified sitting position as he felt 80 hostile black eyes focus on him.
He tried to catch her eyes but she was studiously examining the rugs on the floor with intense interest. Finally she raised her veil to hide her grin and let her eyes sparkle at him mischievously over the top of the nearly transparent material.
Trowa sighed, the present disaster having been so nearly averted and began edging closer to the object of his desire only to be blocked by a mountainous figure that placed himself directly between them. The younger man’s mouth went dry but their conduct seemed to have gone unnoticed as typical dinner conversation ensued. He could hardly glimpse Madi, her father’s bulk effectively screening her from easy view.
Everyone was interested in hearing the latest news about Master Quatre, whom he had just seen, so he had no choice but to talk and he realized he was very hungry after all.
Madi felt her face grow hot as she peered around her father to watch Trowa eat, she swallowed painfully as he licked the sweet juice of a tangerine off his fingers. Happy tears sparkled like diamonds on her lashes. He was here, here at last, she’d hardly had time to realize but there he was. She could watch him forever, the torchlight that lit the tent gleamed off his hair and added mysterious depths to his green eyes.
The serving girls, in from the little village they camped near, noticed the handsome newcomer too, ignoring the Maganacs as they lingered about the young man, trying to tempt him with the assortment of food on their trays.
Abdul, seated beside Madiyah, grinned as he heard the usually gentle girl snarl in her throat as one of them popped a grape into Trowa’s mouth and let her finger linger momentarily on the fullness of his lower lip.
“Will you kill her now or later, Little One? Shall I lend you my knife,” he chuckled and she blushed at his words and poked an elbow in his ribs.
“Abdul, shhhh,” she begged, glaring at him from pleading blue eyes.
“You’re practically green with jealousy,” he continued teasingly, taking no care to lower his voice, amused by the beet-red color that appeared on her usually pale cheeks. “And are those tears . . .”
“Tears?” Rasid growled, overhearing and glancing searchingly between Madiyah and Trowa.
“No, no Father. I’m fine,” she said hurriedly, gulping as Rasid’s fingers slid over the handle of the rather large knife he wore tucked in his belt. “It’s smoky in here, that’s all. I need some air.”
She bent to kiss his cheek and favored Abdul with a well-aimed kick in the shins that only appeared accidental as she ran out of the room.
Trowa tried to excuse himself to follow but a heavy hand on his shoulder kept him in place. He was tall for his age and the slender build of his early teens had given way to a rather well-developed muscular physique. Still, he felt suddenly small beside the large Maganac who had Madiyah under his protection.
“Stay,” he commanded. “We have to talk.”
The others trickled out of the room and Trowa felt as if they were casting him sympathetic glances. This could hardly be a good sign.
When the room finally emptied Rasid sighed and dug his hand in a pocket, finally pulling out a delicate gold object.
He let it dangle in his fingers before Trowa’s face. The slender gold chain, the cross shattered by a bullet hole.
“You must remember everything she is before this goes further,” the Maganac captain said gruffly. “She is Madiyah now, my daughter, the one who fought beside you, the one you say you love. You promised me when I let you come here that you would never hurt her. But I have been thinking. She is also still Midii Une. This can never change. Have you thought about that? Can you accept the one who betrayed you? I will not let you break her heart. She has been hurt enough. You cannot change your mind later, you must think about all of it now.”
Trowa stared at the cross, it seemed so small now. In memory it was large and heavy, a weight around his neck. He tried to concentrate and remember the face of the captain, but it was dim and far away. He could remember only kindness and the awful sense of loss when he died.
She is still Midii Une.
Rasid’s words deserved consideration, but that had been all he’d thought about in the two years since the war.
“I forgive Midii,” he said carefully. “I have thought about it. She was wrong but she had no choice . . .” He remembered the tears she’d cried and her voice crying out to him. “And I love Madiyah. I truly love her, that’s why I waited so long to come here. I knew she was Midii and yet the ache inside never got better, only worse until I had to find her.”
“Hmmmm,” Rasid said noncommittally, but the stern face seemed to soften a bit.
“She does not belong here with us anymore,” he continued. “She belongs out in the world. My daughter is a beautiful young woman who should not be hiding from life here in the desert. You are not the one I would have chosen. I always hoped that she and Master Quatre . . . but it was not to be. They are truly too much alike to ever be more than friends. And she loves you. She has been brave but we’ve all noticed her sadness these past months. I am glad her belief in you was not for nothing.”
Firelight caught the little cross that still dangled from his big fingers and his voice choked momentarily.
“She was wearing this when we found her,” Rasid said, his voice husky with nostalgia. “When I saw her I knew we had to protect her and care for her. It was the right choice. She needed us then.”
He handed the cross to Trowa.
“But she needs you now,” he said.
They sat silently.
They continued to sit, each lost in their thoughts.
After awhile Rasid coughed a little.
“Ummm, you can go and talk to her now,” he said, an amused grin cracking his big face as the younger man jumped to his feet and disappeared.
Madiyah squealed and flopped back in the small mound of pillows that covered the floor of the small space she called her own. She grabbed up one of the pillows and hugged it tightly, kissing the silky fabric soundly and passionately.
“Trowa! I love you,” she giggled, her eyes growing heavy lidded as she remembered his kisses, his touch.
“I have to call Dorothy!”
She yanked her laptop out from under a heap of veils and tapped in the code. Dorothy’s familiar face appeared on the screen after what seemed an interminable amount of time.
She smirked as she spotted Madiyah’s radiant face.
“Orsino has finally come to his senses,” Dorothy guessed, her own eyes sparkling with unshed tears at seeing her closest friend’s happiness.
“Yes, yes! He’s here. He’s really here. I can’t believe it,” she laughed softly and hugged her Trowa-pillow even closer. “I just had to call and tell you.”
“Well,” Dorothy said, casting an eye at the tall grandfather clock against the wall, he was late . . .”you do know what day this is?”
Madi forced an innocent expression but there was hidden mischief in her veiled eyes.
“Yes, it’s January 6, AC 198. So?”
Dorothy huffed in annoyance as Madi’s laughter finally exploded.
“Alright! Yes, it’s Twelfth Night!,” she admitted as Dorothy frowned at her friend’s silly antics.
The sound of a doorbell rang in the distance and Madiyah watched as Dorothy’s face became suffused with a giddy radiance that matched her own.
“Sebastian?” she guessed, taking her own turn to smirk at her friend’s excited face.
“Of course,” Dorothy said loftily, composing herself. “I never had occasion to misplace my darling Sebastian. Just make sure you keep Orsino close after this Viola darling. I must fly. Good luck!!”
“Good night, Olivia,” Madi smiled, terminating the connection. She scratched a match against the supporting tent pole in the center of the area and lit a small, fragrant candle.
“You will never guess what’s happened,” Dorothy said, pleased beyond pleased to know something that Quatre did not.
“Oh let me see,” Quatre replied smiling at her. “Trowa has found Madiyah and they are very happy.”
“What! How did you know,” Dorothy shrieked, grabbing a nearby pillow and trying to swat her beloved with it.
“Well, how do you think he found her, my lovely Olivia,” the handsome blonde man teased, grabbing the pillow out of her hand and tossing it aside.
“May they be as happy as we are,” he whispered in her ear, pushing aside the long blonde hair with his lips and holding her tightly.
“But that would be impossible,” Dorothy whispered back before their lips met in a long, soulful kiss.
Trowa could see her silhouette against the fabric, backlit by the light of the small candle. He merely watched her awhile, admiring the graceful movement of her arms as she brushed her long blonde hair and he smiled as he heard her hum to herself.
They would be alone at last . . .
He pushed aside the light silken fabric and caught his breath as she turned to look up at him, a welcoming smile on her face. Candlelight gleamed off the narrow gold bracelet that circled her upper arm snugly and made her blue-gray eyes shine.
“I hope Father wasn’t too hard on you,” she said, lifting her thin brows questioningly.
Trowa shook his head, momentarily speechless. After all this time and after all the tricks fate had pulled on them they were together at last. It seemed despite all the tragedy of their life so far would result in a happy ending. She made him happy, he was happy just to look at her sweet, smiling face. To hold her and know she belonged to him, to know that she loved him was an almost unbearable feeling, like a strong light that burned inside.
Her hand reached out for him and he took it and sat beside her, immediately drawn to nuzzling against her fragrant neck and he felt her body shiver as his bangs tickled against her skin.
“Trowa,” she whispered. “I’m so happy you’ve come at last.”
His hand brushed against something square and hard in the small heap of pillows they sat in and he lifted it and stared at the book’s title.
“Twelfth Night, hmmmm,” he said, tossing it aside. “Never read it.”
He gathered her close in his strong arms and squeezed her until he heard her gasp out her breath and laugh softly.
“I love you, Madiyah,” he said, pushing her back against the pillows and admiring her in the soft glow of the candlelight.
He stretched her pale arms out on either side of her and lowered himself onto her, bringing his fingers softly over the inside of her arms slowly. His touch made her laugh and she shivered with delighted goose bumps as she drew him closer so she could feel his full weight on top of her.
“I’ll squash you,” he protested, trying to rise up, but she held him tight.
“No,” she said. “It feels wonderful as if you’re swallowing me up.”
The love and sincerity in her eyes and her voice made him groan as he felt her small fingers push the white cotton shirt away from his shoulders and he felt the touch of her against his bare skin. He gave in and let his weight crush her against the silk and satin pillows and heard her sigh happily as they sank deeper into the jasmine-scented softness.
He rocked against her in an ancient rhythm, as old as the sands that surrounded them, as his lips tasted the sweet-salty tang of her skin and after a time he felt a warm wet tear roll against the tip of his nose. When he looked up there was a shadow of sadness in her eyes.
“What’s wrong,” he asked, his voice concerned as he rolled off her and pulled her small form into his lap and held her close in the circle of his arms.
“It feels so much like a dream,” she choked out. “I’ve loved you for so long Trowa and I waited for you so long. Maybe I’ve finally gone mad and this is nothing but a fantasy.”
He smiled understandingly.
“Forgive me, please love,” he whispered in her ear, taking the slim golden hoop that pierced her lobe between his teeth and tugging gently, making her moan and hide her face against his hot, naked chest. “I missed you and I wanted to be with you. But I had to be sure that when I saw you again it would be forever.”
He lowered her back down again and softly brushed the hair from her face, staring into her eyes.
“This will be forever Madiyah,” he said. “Midii . . .”
He pulled the little cross from his shirt pocket and watched as she raised a trembling hand to her mouth. She reached for it and their fingers brushed. Trowa stroked her hair as she bent her face over the little necklace and traced the broken lines of the cross.
“I thought I lost this long ago,” she whispered, tears staining her cheeks. “How did you get it?”
“Your father had it,” Trowa said. “He wants us to remember our past, more specifically he wants me to remember your past Madi. I do remember it.”
“I know you’ll never forget what I did to you,” she said, turning away from him but immediately feeling him close, his arms circling her, the pounding of his heartbeat at her back.
“I can’t forget, I never want to forget any time we’ve had together. I said it before, I love you. You Madi, the girl you are now, the Gundam pilot and the sad little girl. I love you,” he said, taking the cross from her and fastening it around her neck.
His mouth closed over hers again and he felt the touch of her tongue on his lips and he opened to her willingly, tightening his grip on her shoulders as she moved teasingly beneath him.
Trowa felt her delicate fingers tugging impatiently at the waistband of the loose linen pants he wore and he rose off her to pull them off. She squeaked with laughter as he bent to kiss her flat stomach, his lips tickling her as he ran his hands up the sides of her waist. He looked at her silently and their eyes met in a long penetrating glance of consensual desire.
She pulled herself up and for a moment Trowa thought she wanted to slow things down, but her hands reached out to yank his shirt completely off, pulling the loose garment easily over his arms and drawing him down on her again in a swift, graceful movement.
The skirt she wore was composed of many thin, sheer layers and he pushed each one aside, growing more and more impatient as they never seemed to end and he felt her smile against his shoulder as she clung to him and he made a noise of impatience. She pushed him away slightly and rose up to stand before him, pulling delicately at a ribbon at her waist. The skirt dropped away and she reached up to remove the pink silk bandeau that covered her breasts.
She blushed as he looked at her and she hurriedly dropped to her knees to blow out the candle to leave them in darkness.
Madiyah felt a strong warm hand move over her waist and he was on top of her again, his breathing deep and labored, both of them without words now. Only actions could convey their feelings. His hand slid between her thighs and his other hand brushed over her lips, stifling her soft cries before his mouth closed over hers again as he kissed her deeply. The night was hot and their bodies clung together, sticky with heat and her small tongue darted out to taste the sweat on his face before his lips slid over hers again.
Pressure stung between her legs and her eyes widened in shock and she bit back a cry of pain.
“Madi,” Trowa apologized, holding completely still as he listened to her shallow breathing and choked back sobs. “I hurt you. I-I’m sorry . . .
He started pulling away but she pulled him back, burying her face in his shoulder. “Don’t stop, I want to try,” she murmured. “I love you so much.”
“Relax,” he urged, feeling her muscles tightening as he began to move again. Trowa drew his lips over her cheek and blew softly in her ear, feeling her smile and her body relaxed beneath his and he moved a little faster, letting his weight bear her back against the pillows again.
“Okay,” he asked, hearing soft little sounds deep in her throat, vibrating against the curve of his shoulder.
“Mmmm, much better,” she said.
“Good,” Trowa gasped. “That’s good . . .”
His hand reached to trace its way down the satin skin of her leg and she lifted it to curl it around his waist. Madi heard her heart beating loudly in her own ears and as the pain faded a tiny series of explosions seemed to burst inside and she forgot everything but the feel of Trowa, on top of her, inside her.
She felt the smooth muscles of his back tighten beneath her fingers as he collapsed on top of her and she smiled, nudging him a little.
“Trowa,” she whispered.
“Mmm. . . ,” he groaned, having lost all motivation to talk or move. But his eyes strained to see her face in the dark.
She seemed to read his mind and reached out her arm languidly, one small hand searching the darkness for a match. A whiff of burning wood flashed and she lit the candle again allowing him a glimpse of her tear-streaked face.
“I did hurt you,” he said, dropping his eyes from her face. “I’m so-
She touched her fingers to his lips and smiled.
“Just a little,” she said. “It’s okay, it will get better. Wanna try again?”
He chuckled a little and tightened his arm around her a bit. “Later,” he promised.
He rolled off her and they lay side by side, fingers entwined. They looked at each other in the candlelight.
“It’s so hot,” they both said together, smiling at the coincidence, but it was stifling in the little room.
“We can go for a walk. It’s cool outside now,” she said, surprising him by jumping up and pulling on her clothes.
“Trowa! Hurry, it’s beautiful out,” she said, lying on her stomach and peeking out under the wall of the tent. The stars, you have to see the stars.”
She tossed him his shirt and slid away under the small opening where the wall met the sand and out into the coolness of the night.
Madi sighed as a shaft of light floated over the dark sand as he lifted the wall and slid out after her. She watched him stand and brush himself off.
“Farther out, away from the lights you can see them better,” she whispered, gesturing back toward the campfires behind them.
They walked quietly, hand in hand, over the hard-packed sand until they were surrounded by the night and the stars.
She stared at him, studying the face turned up to the starlight. The light of the heavens touched his features with silver and the breeze played in his hair, revealing and hiding his face from her in turn.
Madi unwrapped the rectangle of silk she’d wrapped around herself and smoothed it down over the sand so she could sit and she continued watching Trowa, memorizing the lines of his face and this perfect moment.
Finally he sat next to her and wrapped an arm around her. She sighed and wrapped her arms around his waist resting her head on his shoulder.
“What are you thinking,” she asked, looking up at him and he looked down, meeting her eyes with his.
He rested his head on her hair awhile, as if he were thinking.
“I think,” he said finally. “I think that there’ll never be another moment as perfect as this one. When I left you those times before I thought I could only be happy in space.”
“And now,” she whispered, a remnant of fear in her voice as she watched him study the stars again.
“Now I can only be happy with you,” he said, taking his eyes from the heavens and filling them with the sight of her.
His lips found hers and they kissed in the starlight, two lost souls who had finally found each other.
AN: ^_^ Aaaaaaaaaaaaah!!! The sap! The sap! This fic written while eating chocolate Easter eggs, obviously—super sugar high authoress=fluff!! Also if you are unfamiliar with Willliam Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night the play’s focus is a girl who dresses herself as a soldier. She falls in love with Count Orsino who thinks she is a boy. Orsino thinks he loves Olivia but she falls in love with Viola, the girl dressed as a boy but eventually marries her twin, Sebastian. At the end Viola wins Orsino’s heart and they all live happily ever after. If this still makes no sense and you didn’t read The First of April, please go read it now ^_^