[ficlet] La Battaglia PG-13 (lime-ish 3xD)

[miaka mouse]

this fic was inspired by a drawing that stefy did of trowa recently...here's a link to stefy's post on the LR ML jus in case u haven't seen the pic or jus to remind urself of how sexy this guy really is...

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/loverefle ... sage/28239

and now...on with the fic... lemme know what you think!

Warning: slightly limey (PG-13 at least)

La Battaglia
*(The Battle)

By Miaka Mouse <?__)~



The large cherry oak doors swung open, revealing a slightly disheveled, tawny haired young man. He looked as if he'd been running, probably in the rain if the droplets on his tousled hair were any indication. He peered through his messy bangs at the expansive dining room he'd just entered.

"Quatre, I'm sorry I--" he stopped abruptly, finally realizing that the only occupant of the room was a lone Maguanac, refilling the crystal water glasses on the magnificent dining table. He looked up and smiled at the surprised young man.

"Ah, Master Trowa. Master Quatre has been detained at work and called to tell us that you would be eating without him. He will speak to you as soon as he arrives." Trowa's eyes narrowed, and he nodded curtly at the Arab man. He then turned around and walked out of the room, drawing the heavy doors firmly closed behind him.

Still at work? he thought indignantly. And I was going to apologize for being late. He needs to stop overworking himself like this. His thoughts seemed to echo in the darkened hallways of Quatre's impressive mansion as he made his way to the room that had been reserved for him ever since the war ended. He only actually used the room on occasions like this, when the circus or Preventer business brought him to the area.

He grasped the brass knob to his room tightly, still annoyed by Quatre's absence. Quatre was most likely detained by one of his nervous shareholders or some greedy politician. It seemed everyone wanted a piece of him these days. He swung the door open forcefully, unbuttoning his shirt slightly damp from the rain. Everywhere he looked, someone was out to manipulate his best friend in some way, but Quatre never seemed to notice. That was the fact that really got to him, he supposed. Finally getting to the last button, he began to slip it off his shoulders, turning to select another shirt from the closet. As he did so, he finally noticed the presence of another person in his room, a person who personified everything he was angry with at that moment. He paused in mid-turn, hands still gripping the lapels of his shirt as he glared at the woman sitting cross-legged on his bed. His iridescent green eyes absorbed the fact that her posture was smug and self-assured; she'd been waiting for him.

"What the hell are you doing here?" He growled the sentence out, proceeding to peel the damp shirt off of his body. She smiled wolfishly, slowly uncrossing her legs and rising off the bed. She wore black wrap dress that plunged generously at the neckline and fell open slightly at the skirt as she stood, flashing a glimpse of her pale knee.

"Well, there's something I didn't expect from our silent clown. You seem annoyed, Trowa." She walked over to him, his figure bent at the waist as he searched for new attire.

"Quatre's not home, Dorothy, if that's why you're here." Trowa finally responded as he straightened, his seamless composure back in place. She smirked and leaned towards him, trailing a well-manicured fingernail along his sternum.

"Oh, I know. Those lovely bodyguards of his let me in, and said I could wait for him. And you know how I can't sit still," she added conspiratorially. "I decided to...explore." She accentuated the last statement by smoothing her elegant hands against his sculpted torso. He backed away from her touch, and she continued speaking in the venomous drawl that she always seemed to use. "Imagine my surprise when I found that one of the rooms actually looked lived in. I never took you to be the type who would leech off his rich friends, Trowa." His head turned sharply to look at her as that sentence left her mouth. Green eyes narrowed, fire flickering within them.

"No, Dorothy, that would be you." Her ice blue eyes flashed as she placed a hand on his bare bicep and stepped closer to him.

"Oh, that's right. Quatre's your friend. He wants you to be here." An indulgent smirk curved her mouth. "Well, I'm Quatre's friend too," she murmured. He glared at her again, the verdant fire in his eyes glowing almost luminously.

"I doubt that." She placed hand on his shoulder, keeping the other one on his arm as she faced him.

"You think you're better than me?" she laughed mirthlessly. "Why? Because your intentions are honorable?" She pressed her body against his. "I'd like to see exactly how honorable your intentions are." He grabbed her wrists, prying her hands off his body. Pushing her against the wall, he brought his gaze level with hers, tousled bangs obscuring the view here and there, but never lessening the intensity behind it.

"Don't even try to pretend that you know anything about me, Dorothy," his voice rumbled, low and dangerous. With his hands pinning hers against the wall, and his legs pressing against the rest of her body, there was only one thing she could do in retaliation.

She kissed him.

Hard.

He pushed right back, answering the challenge of her lips. He wasn't ready to let her win. His mouth pressed painfully against hers, the hardness of his teeth evident against her own. She opened her mouth slightly to bite his lip in retribution, which had him grabbing her jaw with one hand to force it open. He plunged into her mouth without pretense, her tongue warring with his. The battle was just beginning.

Realizing her hands were now free, Dorothy gripped his shoulder, manicured nails digging into his flesh. He growled, pulling his mouth away from hers, and grew infuriated as a victorious grin stretched her swollen lips. Her fingers loosened, believing to have won the battle.

Seeing an opening, he shoved her onto the bed, climbing over her to press his knees against her legs. One hand wrapped around her throat, not quite squeezing it. He looked like a predator leaning over his prey, daring her to try to escape. Her steel blue eyes narrowed, calculating as ever. One hand went to grasp the bulge at his groin as the other went to shove his shoulder once he'd been caught off guard by the intimate touch. She propelled him backwards, so that he lay sprawled against the austere bedding. She straddled him forcefully, pushing her hips against his and grabbing his wrists as she bent down to resume their battle. Her pale blond hair fell around them so that the only thing he could see was her, and her cat-like eyes, as they glared at each other through their kiss.

Her nails dug into his wrists as he bit at her mouth and bucked up against her hips. Her bare knees rubbed against the sensitive area at his kidneys, making his muscles tremble slightly at the contact. He wrenched his hands out of her grasp and grazed against those smooth knees. His touch glided up her thighs and gave her a taste of her own medicine as his fingers dug into the firm flesh of her backside. She moaned involuntarily, her fingers curling at their position on his bare chest. She scraped her nails down his pectorals and trailed her mouth down his jaw, biting along the way. He grasped her earlobe between his teeth as she sank her teeth at the pulse in his neck like a vampire.

A sudden knock at the door had him pushing her off his hips so that she fell in a distinguished heap on the floor. She gave him a venomous glare as she stood up gracefully. The door opened to the sight of Dorothy straightening the highly disarrayed wrap of her dress as Trowa sat fully alert and unaffected on the edge of the bed. The bewildered Maguanac on the other side of the door glanced between the two occupants before clearing his throat to deliver the message he'd been sent there for.

"Master Quatre has returned and is ready to dine, if you are not otherwise...engaged." Dorothy offered the Arab man her most poisonous saccharine smile as she replied,

"Thank you. We will join him shortly." She turned back to Trowa who was now buttoning up the shirt he had pulled out before their skirmish had erupted. He brushed past her and headed down the hallway to greet Quatre. Her blue eyes narrowed to razor-sharp slits as she followed him, closing the door behind her.

"Questa battaglia non ? conclusa."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AN: that last sentence means "this battle is not over"... i decided it would be fun to assume dorothy was italian...her last name kinda sorta made me think she might be... so she's saying that last line in italian!

[Silent Moon Sphinx]

YAAAAAAAY! You posted it! **happy dance** I'm so excited! I looove this fic! It's just so different...in a good way!! Sexy Trowa is ALWAYS a good thing! And a WET Trowa....**DROOL**.

Trowa's the type of guy that when he's angry, he somehow manages to look even hotter. And that Dorothy seems to know just how to get under his skin. You captured the picture so well! Thankies so much for sharing!

~Sphinx

[Chiriru]

miaka mouse, I love it! Dorothy is actually from Spain (Catalonia is a spanish provence so that's the theory on that) but stil, she could/would kind Itlainia -- it's not far of a strech.

Anyways, I love 3xD and I hope you continue this soon!

[Desertbloom]

Very very good!! I love this pairing, after QxC this has to be my favorite. You are very talented!!!!!!!
~Desertbloom

[Katy-did Bug]

Yes I love it, this is my favorite pairing. But the picture, I don't know if you just wanted certain people to see it or not, but It won't link says I'm not a member, but I love the story, very suave and debonaire.

[miaka mouse]

oh hey katy-did if u wanna see the pic.. i think rose ended up putting it in stefy's gallery here: http://inrose.net/phpBB/album_pic.php?p ... c62a3d14c1
if u wanna check it out (which i highly recommend)