Rated: 18+ for graphic sexual situations and language.
Pairing: 3x4
Warnings: AU, Yaoi, Lemon.
Summary: Dessert makes up for a botched romantic dinner.

Quatre emerged from the sedan he’d just parked at the local supermarket. Smiling to no one in particular but himself, he locked the doors with his remote and strolled into the store.

After finishing his degree in journalism, his best friend and lover, Trowa Barton, had landed a job at one of the world’s most well-regarded news organizations. Quatre had hoped to celebrate Trowa’s new position with a calm, relaxing, and most of all, romantic dinner. He mentally recited his shopping list while picking up a basket in the foyer of the market, and started off into the hustle and bustle. A chorus of voices, checkout scanner beeps, and the clanging of metal shopping carts welcomed him.

He hummed along with the catchy tune coming from the tinny speakers in the ceiling as he cruised up and down the aisles. Quatre continued to hum out loud, even as the music was interrupted with intercom pages. Quatre was in quite the jovial mood as he picked up the food he needed, and continued with purpose towards the produce department.

Though no longer a wheel in the corporate machine that was his father’s creation — one that would have been passed on to Quatre himself had he not refused and gone out on his own — Quatre still had the Winner eye for quality in everything that he did. He studied each tomato, looking for just the perfect color and texture. His scrutiny then turned to the other vegetables in the display. In the end, Quatre felt he had the best possible salad in the making as a display of strawberries caught his attention.

“JUST IN! FRESH FROM THE FIELD!” the signs proclaimed. As Quatre looked closer, he found that the signs weren’t lying. These were some of the freshest berries he’d seen. The thought of biting into one took his mind back to a time where Quatre and Trowa had taken a day trip out to the country. They stopped at a roadside stand and ended up with a pint of strawberries. Trowa took one bite of the small red fruit and a satisfied grin crept onto his face, accompanied by a low purr of contented bliss. “These are wonderful,” Trowa said softly. “Strawberries are my favorite. Thank you, love.” The brunet leaned over to kiss his boyfriend on the lips. Quatre tasted the sweet strawberries on Trowa’s lips and grinned himself. A young woman bumped into Quatre, breaking the revelry. She excused herself and left as Quatre, smiling brighter than he had all day, picked up a pint of strawberries from the cooler and placed them on his basket.

After paying for his groceries, Quatre put his bags in the backseat and drove away from the store. He rolled his window down so he could enjoy the sunshine. A cloud here and there broke the sea of sky blue above him. As he drove, he drummed his fingers against the steering wheel in time with the radio. This was going to be a great evening. Trowa would be home in about two hours, which would give him plenty of time to make his culinary masterpiece.

Quatre was about as giddy as one could get without completely losing his composure. He parked the car and made his way to the cozy two-bedroom apartment they shared. It was not luxurious at all, but it was indeed comfortable. Quatre set his groceries on the dining room table, quickly putting the vanilla ice cream, chocolate syrup, and prized strawberries away so they would stay cold. He set out the rest of his food, gathered the supplies from the kitchen and made sure everything was in order.

Trowa gazed blankly at the computer screen. He had written six stories already today, and had another two more before he left at 5:00. He took a sip of coffee and sighed, collecting his thoughts to tackle the last two obstacles between him and freedom for the weekend.

In the back of mind, he thought about what Quatre might be doing right now. He smiled faintly as he remembered the first weeks of living with his boyfriend. It wasn’t perfect at all. Trowa had forgotten to clean the lint screen on the dryer, nearly setting fire to the laundry room. Quatre had crossed some wires when setting up their stereo system, which resulted in an unholy screech and some upset neighbors when Quatre pushed play. Despite the little bumps in the road, he could say he was content. At the end of the day, he was absolutely comfortable with Quatre. Trowa could discuss the recent happenings in the legislature with Quatre just as easily as he could make Quatre think that it was illegal to feel this good from mere touches.

The grin on Trowa’s face grew more devious as he clicked ‘send’ and submitted his eighth story to the editor just as quitting time drew near. He was going to enjoy Quatre in every way possible tonight, and he knew his lover wouldn’t protest in the least. Though they were past the head-over-heels infatuation stage of their relationship, they still were able to enjoy almost every intimate moment as if it were their first.

As Trowa made his way through rush-hour traffic on his bicycle with a white plastic bag in the basket on his handlebars, he noticed the skies were growing cloudy. He hurried as much as he could to try to beat the impending rain. He approached home and the sky above was much darker. However, his apartment door was only yards away. “Almost there,” he said to himself. He fumbled with the front door key for a split second...just as the heavens opened up with a torrential downpour.

Trowa bit back a curse as the keys slipped from his hand. After finally finding the right key, Trowa stepped inside. The rain had soaked his light blue dress shirt and black slacks through and through. The brunet sighed and brushed his hair back with his hand, shaking it dry afterwards. He trudged through the apartment building’s hallway; his shoes made a wet squishing noise with every step.

He opened the door to his apartment to find a cloud of smoke billowing out, the screech of the smoke detector stating what was already obvious. The alarm didn’t quite drown out the creative curses coming from Quatre’s mouth. The young man wielded a fire extinguisher against four flaming pieces on a baking tray and kept repeating the Japanese epithets that his exchange student friend Heero taught him back in high school. White powder shot from the nozzle of the extinguisher, dousing the flames on what was once garlic bread.

Trowa silenced the alarm and opened up the patio door to ventilate the apartment. “Quatre, are you okay?” he asked, concerned.

Quatre sighed, defeated. He was about to open his mouth and explain, but the spaghetti picked that exact moment to boil over on the stove, sending the blonde into another panic and even more cursing. As Trowa helped his roommate clean the mess, he noticed that the meatballs and sauce simmering on the adjacent burner had turned black, having been on the stove too long.

The blonde growled in frustration as the stove and oven were turned off and the ruined spaghetti, meatballs, and garlic bread were discarded. “Well, so much for a celebration,” Quatre commented sarcastically.

“What are you talking about...?” Trowa wondered as he washed the pots from the failed attempt.

“I was going to make you a delicious dinner to celebrate your new job,” Quatre muttered dejectedly, “but instead all we have is salad and dessert. I guess we should order some pizza or something...” Quatre trailed off as he shuffled towards the phone on the wall.

“Hang on, Quat,” Trowa said as he picked up the bag he’d brought home. “I didn’t know you were doing all this. I’d picked up some Chinese before I left for home. I’m okay with celebrating with fortune cookies if you are.” Trowa unpacked the bag as the aroma of stir-fried vegetables, rice, and meat filled the kitchen and eventually replaced the odor of burnt garlic bread.

Quatre nodded as he put the salad in a leftover container and slid it into the fridge for tomorrow night. “Sure...well, at least we can have dessert at the end.”

As Trowa opened the containers to reveal bountiful helpings of sesame chicken and moo goo gai pan, he felt Quatre give him a quick hug from behind, paler arms sliding around the taller man’s waist to hold him close. “Sorry about all this,” Quatre said.

Trowa spun around in his lover’s arms, giving him a quick kiss and smiling. “No worries, Quat.” he said. Trowa pulled Quatre’s chair from the table and gestured for him to sit before the brunet did so himself, grinning at the food before him.

“Sesame chicken, Trowa? How did you know that was my favorite?” Quatre asked.

“Well, I used my journalistic investigation skills and found you order sesame chicken every time we get Chinese,” Trowa deadpanned.

“Dork,” Quatre retaliated as he stuck out his tongue at Trowa.

Dinner passed by quickly, and Quatre’s mood brightened at the conversation about everything from the latest movie in theaters, to how ridiculous the latest proposal up for debate was, and even how Quatre learned all those Japanese curse words.

Quatre grinned and got up from the table, and quickly made his dessert, setting a bowl in front of Trowa. The bowl was filled with three scoops of real vanilla ice cream and topped with sliced strawberries that looked absolutely succulent. Trowa smiled brightly. “Quatre...you have really outdone yourself.” He took one of the whole strawberries off the top of the dish and bit into it, savoring the sweet flesh in his mouth. The strawberries were just as fresh as the ones from the roadside stand. “You’ve really outdone yourself,” Trowa repeated. A wide grin came to his face as he ate his dessert slowly, enjoying every bit of the rich vanilla and sticky-sweet strawberry mingling in his mouth.

“I’m glad you like it, Trowa,” Quatre replied. He ate his dessert, but was much more interested in how Trowa delighted in his own.

After the brunet finished, in an act of feigned innocence, drew each of his fingers into his mouth, getting every last bit of melted ice cream and strawberry juice off his hands. Quatre squirmed in his seat; he knew Trowa didn’t have innocence in mind at all. Nevertheless, it worked oh so well on Quatre. Despite having finished ice cream with a cup of coffee for dessert, his mouth grew dry.

Quatre thanked whatever deity was listening that his freelance musician job didn’t have him doing a gig tonight. He knew he was going to be quite busy.

The two roommates and lovers would wash their dessert bowls properly later. Quatre set them in the sink and Trowa immediately took hold of the blonde’s shoulders and gave him a kiss that further sparked the flame of desire in them both.

Trowa came up for air first, whispering a husky “love you” into Quatre’s ear.

The shorter man shivered and squeezed his lover. “Let’s celebrate the right way,” Quatre said. He led Trowa by the hand into their bedroom with a sly grin. Trowa squeezed Quatre’s hand affectionately before the blonde let go of his hand and turned around, pressing a kiss filled with need and promise to Trowa as Quatre worked on getting rid of that pesky tie and shirt separating him from the slight tan of Trowa’s skin.

Trowa quickly undid the buttons of his shirt to help. Once the offending garments were removed, Quatre instantly latched onto the base of Trowa’s neck, softly nibbling at a very sensitive place. The brunet moaned and shuddered as he reached around to Quatre’s ass, groping it shamelessly before moving his hands to the waistband of his lover’s jeans.

Quatre raised his hands and off came his shirt. Now topless, both boys made quick work of each other’s belts, pants, and underwear. Trowa looked down at Quatre, admiring his boyfriend as if this was the first time he’d seen the musician naked. With a desire-filled growl, Trowa pulled his lover towards him, groaning as he felt the heat of Quatre’s arousal touch his own, moaning into the feverish kiss that Quatre gave him.

Quatre broke the kiss as he put his hands in Trowa’s, nudging them to the bed. Trowa took his own hands and wrapped them around Quatre as they tumbled onto the mattress and resumed their kissing. Quatre reached over to his lover’s erection, stroking and pumping it in the heat between the two young men. Trowa’s moan was like a drug to Quatre; he wanted more, and he wanted it now.

Not breaking the contact on Trowa’s cock, Quatre traced a spit-slicked finger up the brunet’s tummy, stopping to caress and pinch his nipples playfully. Trowa retaliated with a hand creeping around to Quatre’s backside, rubbing against his boyfriend’s hole. He felt Quatre stiffen for an instant before relaxing and pushing back against the teasing finger.

“Yes,” Quatre said, voice soft and heavy with lust. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?” He grinned. “I love giving it to you.”

Trowa groaned and stiffened, freeing himself from the embrace long enough to reach over to the night stand and grab the bottle of clear, slick liquid that meant that wonderful things were going to happen. After slicking up his slender finger, he kissed Quatre. He waited for Quatre to open his mouth slightly, so that Trowa’s tongue could enter at the same time his finger did.

Quatre’s voice, usually a tenor, suddenly turned baritone at the invasion. His eyes closed as he rode the sensation of something slick going up his ass. It was a feeling that Quatre absolutely loved. He returned Trowa’s kiss with equaled passion and impatiently tried to push Trowa’s finger deeper inside him.

“Eager tonight?” Trowa asked as he pulled out his finger to add more lube before putting it back in with another finger added.

Quatre choked on a moan and smiled weakly. “You deserve this, Tro,” he said. The blond made another love mark on Trowa’s neck.

In return, Trowa scissored his fingers inside Quatre’s ass, unintentionally finding the spongy prostate. Trowa gasped as Quatre reacted. “Fuck,” Quatre said shakily. “Don’t stop, Trowa.”

“I don’t plan to,” Trowa remarked. He dipped down to lick and nip at Quatre’s lighter skin, his teeth gently pulilng on a rosy nipple as three fingers went inside the musician’s entrance. The fingers stretched Quatre, showering him with wave after wave of bliss. Quatre felt his temperature rise, especially when his lover found his prostate again, this time purposefully running and pressing against it. Quatre felt as if he was going to burst at any moment. He crushed his lips against Trowa’s, stealing the taller man’s breath in a kiss filled with need and desperation. Trowa fought to catch his breath when Quatre ground out the words that sent sparks directly to Trowa’s dick. “Do it, Trowa.”

“God, yes...” Trowa whispered. He pushed Quatre onto his back and trailed kisses from his lips down to his straining erection. Trowa smiled up at Quatre and kissed the tip of the blond’s cock before taking it into his mouth for a few sweet strokes that nearly drove Quatre over the edge. Quatre threaded his hands through Trowa’s hair, pulling him up and off of his cock. “Don’t...” he warned. “Need you in me now, Trowa. Need to feel you deep inside...”

Trowa chuckled darkly as he lubed himself up, ready to give his lover just what he wanted. He lifted up Quatre’s legs and Quatre wrapped them around Trowa. The brunet locked gazes with him, eye contact never breaking even as Trowa’s erection pushed through the tight ring of muscle and deeper into Quatre. Trowa’s senses were overwhelmed with the tightness, the heat, and the affection and desire in Quatre’s eyes. He nearly lost it on the first thrust, but managed to push all the way in. Trowa stayed where he was, buried to the hilt inside Quatre for only a couple of seconds; the seconds seemed like an eternity. Quatre and Trowa both began to move at once; their bodies almost completely synchronized in their motions.

At first, their lovemaking was quiet — a gasp here, a sigh of ecstasy there. The bed began to protest underneath the two boys, creaking in rhythm with the thrusts which gained momentum. Trowa leaned in, wrapped his arms around Quatre, and thrust hard and fast, enjoying every sensual move as Quatre moaned softly, growing in volume as Trowa pushed into him faster and deeper.

Quatre could feel Trowa getting so close to his prostate. He moved in perfect time with his partner, and Trowa’s dick finally found its target. Quatre cried out his lover’s name in sheer abandon. He could feel the end drawing near; it was an eternity, yet only a moment away. He held on for dear life, bucking and thrusting until he felt his balls draw up, approached the precipice of climax, and gave Trowa the kiss of his life, pushing them both over the edge.

Quatre felt Trowa’s liquid heat spread inside his rear; the feeling sent him into oblivion. He screamed into the kiss, his body shuddering violently with release. He and his lover rode the wave of pleasure to what seemed like a higher plane of being. Neither man felt anything but the warm embrace of his companion.

As the elation and ecstasy subsided, Trowa couldn’t help but chuckle playfully. Quatre remembered the first time they made love. Trowa had the quirky habit of laughing after climax. Quatre had first been offended, thinking Trowa had laughed at him for being a bad partner in bed. Since making a life for themselves together, Quatre now joined in the mirth with his love.

The boys headed to the bathroom to clean up, talking about their day and planning the rest of their week, which promised at least a couple of nights like this one - just the two of them together, enjoying whatever their life threw at them.