Passion Moon Rising
Lista felt like a swirling mass of unspoken emotions. She couldn't understand anything as she watched the celebration fireworks burst in the planet's darkened sky. Night had come so quickly, like a fleeting memory. She felt as if it had only been minutes before that she was sitting in the Raven Starnova, staring blankly as the shards of Libra descended towards Earth and disintegrated against the planet's atmosphere.
She wasn't sure what was wrong with her. Her friends had survived the war. Peace was right around the bend, and yet, something felt out of place inside of her, within the weakened walls of her heart.
Hands placed in her lap, her brows furrowed into the deep green of her eyes, masking her displeasure with the mystery of her emotions. Her fingers curled over her slacks, wrinkling the sensitive fabric.
Her thoughts took off from her, leaving her at a dead-end with no answers to sate her obvious tension. She groaned and closed her eyes, wondering why she still had a sense of unease when her comrades were in the midst of a celebration from all their victories.
A soft hand brushed her shoulder, thrusting her back into reality. She released a hiss of air through her clenched teeth, snapping her head in the direction of the disturbance. Her eyes softened in the darkness, staring at the compassionate golden-haired angel that took lives and regretted every one of them.
"Lista, are you all right?"
Lista lowered her head, saying nothing. She made a noise deep in her throat, one of contemplation, as if she herself knew nothing of her own feelings. She didn't know if she was all right.
Quatre knew immediately that something was troubling her. Her eyes were normally filled with such joy, emerald as even the most lush of forests, but tonight was another matter. It seemed as if they were saddened by something. He couldn't understand what could be troubling her when the war was over and peace was quick on the horizon.
"Lista, are you all right? Please answer me."
Lista looked up at him again, her name on his lips becoming more urgent and worrisome. She shook her head, as if casting away the daze she was in. "Quatre. Oh, Quatre. I'm sorry. I'm just fine, yes. Don't worry about me," she responded quickly, waving her hand despondently.
Quatre shook off her assurance. Falsity dripped from her lips. He turned desperately to those around him, hoping to recruit help, but he knew he was going to get no such thing. Everyone else was far too embroiled in the festivities.
"Lista, I can tell something is bothering you. You have a far-off look in your eyes. You can tell me," he gently prodded, offering her a placid smile to ease her.
"Quatre, I think you may be paranoid. The war is finally over. Why would I be sad?" Lista inquired with a shrug.
It was a good question, but Quatre could not answer it. But he knew something was amiss.
"I'd like to think you are happy that the war is over. But I can tell something is troubling you greatly. You can confide in me. I assure you that it will remain between the two of us. It is not healthy to keep things bottled up, after all," Quatre pointed out.
"Yes, I know," she said, her voice sounding awfully defeatist and quiet. She looked away from him. "Nothing is bothering me. I'm just tired, I think. And besides, if something were bothering me, you would be the first to know of it."
Quatre flinched, taken aback by her revelation. The first? Sure enough, he and Lista had bonded a great deal during the war, but if she were to tell anyone of her troubles, he was sure she would have gone to Duo first. They, after all, had a deep connection through their childhood.
Strangely, he was glad to hear she would confide in him before anyone else. Somehow it made him feel important to her, important in the way he felt about her. He strived to keep jealousy as far away as possible, but he couldn't help but wish Lista would smile and laugh for him as she easily did for the pilot of Deathscythe Hell.
Lista saw the look in his eyes. She pressed her hand against his shoulder, smiling. It was fake. "I'm sorry, Quatre. I don't mean to worry you like this. I'm just… tired. It's been a fairly long day for us all."
Quatre nodded his head in agreement. "Indeed it has. Sleep will be good for all of us." He paused for a moment. "Well then, I will have to be sure to see you to your room when this celebration is over. I would like to be certain you take sleep tonight."
Lista couldn't control the blush splashing against her cheeks. Such a gentleman he was. She snapped her head away from him, hoping to hide it. "That is not necessary, Quatre. You don't have to do anything like that for me."
"Nonsense. I will see you to your bed when the celebration concludes. I must ensure you get what you need," he insisted with a nod of finality.
Face heating up, Lista closed her eyes and swallowed. Somehow his words were suggestive, but she knew he couldn't have meant it in the way she took them. But she almost wished it's what he meant. She wanted him close, wanted to feel the milky warmth of his body against hers, the sun behind his every smile, the glitter in his deep sea eyes.
She bit her bottom lip, coming to a silent but equally torturous revelation.
She was in love with him. She was in love with her comrade.
"Thank you, Quatre. I'm glad to know I have someone like you to watch out for me," she said, turning her head to him just slightly, catching his pleased smile. He nodded once and returned his attention to his other comrades. They were carrying on a casual conversation, Duo quite nearly driving Heero and Wufei into an oblivious aggravation. Trowa seemed unbothered by it, instead focusing his attention on the bursts of color in the midnight sky.
"It seems as if Duo is at it again," Quatre spoke up with an amused smile, chuckling as Duo pouted from the lack of attention from his comrades.
"Yes, it does," Lista agreed, her voice low. Her thoughts returned, but they were less than pure for the Arabian pilot sitting next to her. She wondered when she would catch a break.
Whether Lista was tired or not, Quatre didn't know.
He was worried that his thoughts were no longer his own. His brain was jumbled with things that seemed foreign to him. He was raised as a gentleman, meant to respect women and dote upon them with flowers, chocolates, letters of endearment and that sort of thing. Lista was no different. He had gone through the entire war living with the knowledge that this woman had stolen his heart, and he fought nearly every day with how he could tell her the truth. He didn't know if he would survive his battles, and he believed she deserved to know the truth.
But here they both were, having survived the war and celebrating their plethora of victories. He wanted to experience so much with her, show her just how much of an impact she had on him.
Tonight was his chance. He had to take it.
"Quatre? I think it would be safe to start asking whether you are all right or not," Lista's voice rang in his ear. He turned to look at her, and when he did, he felt himself falter. Her eyes were far more piercing than she realized. They were beautiful. "You have been staring straight ahead for a couple minutes. Are you okay?"
"Forgive me, Lista. I didn't mean to drift off like that. I was just thinking about some things," he assured her, waving his hand dismissively.
"Thinking about what?"
You. You and me, together, and how badly I wish to make love to you throughout the night.
But no, he couldn't say that to her. It was far too forward.
"Well, about a lot of things, like what we're all going to do now that the war is over," he answered instead. It wasn't a lie, of course. He just merely shed several pieces of truth.
Lista nodded, turning away from him in sadness. "I've been thinking about that, too," she admitted. Her fingers reached up for a lock of ebony hair, threading her nails through the silken strands in nervousness. "We were all brought together by this war, and now that it's over, does that mean we are going to go our separate ways?"
Her words struck a sensitive cord. It hurt to think about being separated from his friends, from her. He couldn't have her leave his life when she intoxicated him so much just by being in his presence. She was a necessity to life. He would never let her leave it. He couldn't. She was his salvation after having lost so much.
"I hope that we don't," he murmured, shaking his head.
Lista gazed back up at him, her expression somber. "Me too."
The celebration lasted well into the early hours of the morning. The pilots were all temporarily staying at a hotel several blocks from the park they'd spent their night drinking, eating and watching fireworks. Quatre watched his comrades walk off to their respective rooms, leaving him alone with Lista in the hallway several doors down from her own room.
He turned to face her, smiling. "I promised, did I not?"
Lista couldn't help but chuckle. He offered his arm to her—she gladly took it—and he led her down the hall to her room. Once they came to a stop in front of the closed door, she pulled a gold key out of her pocket and unlocked the door. Placing the key back into her pocket, she pushed the door open with her free hand, the darkness hitting them from inside.
Heart racing, Lista strode inside, still latched onto Quatre's arm. She flipped the light switch, squinting when the light slammed into them. She finally slid her arm from Quatre's so she could shed her jacket, slinging it over the back of a chair in the dining room.
Turning around to look at him, she smiled. "You can stay for a little while, can't you?" she asked, hope flickering in her eyes.
Quatre seemed relieved to hear her ask that. He closed the door behind him, locking it with a swift click. "Certainly. There was something I wanted to speak with you about anyway."
Lista's smile faded. "Is everything all right?" She strolled back up to him when he didn't move from his spot at the door.
Quatre's head lowered, staring at his feet, at hers. "Not necessarily. I have been troubled about something all night, but thought it inappropriate to bring it up with the others around."
Lista clutched her hands against her stomach, swallowing hard. "So, does that mean it has something to do with me? Have I done something to upset you?"
Snapping his head up, Quatre took a step closer to her, sliding his hands under her elbows. "No, of course not!" he exclaimed. He took a deep breath, quieting his voice. "But… It does concern you."
"Quatre, tell me." Her eyes were aflame with apprehension, her mind flurried with what could have Quatre so beside himself.
He took a deep breath and his eyes locked with hers, blue and green clashing together in voluminous silence. His heart skipped in his chest when he leaned close to her, his breath beating against hers in a soft brush. She whimpered quietly, her throat tightening, as the distance between them shifted to nothing, and Quatre's lips dabbed hers in innocent anticipation.
Lista sighed against his gentle kiss, and she settled into him, pleasantly enfolded into his arms as they slid around her back. Her fingers curled over the crisp cotton of his vest, tugging him closer, deeper, into the moment. She never wanted it to end.
Quatre carefully urged her towards her bed, unconscious of nothing but the feel of her lips against his, finally, and the silken touch of her hands as they glided up his chest to cup his face. It was the sweetest surrender.
The back of her knees bumped the edge of the bed. She eased herself onto it, dragging Quatre atop her in a comfortable blanket. Holding himself over her, hands splayed on either side of her head, he pulled away from the kiss, breathless, to gaze upon her. Her cheeks were flushed, now rosy as her lips.
"I love you," he sighed, his heart near to bursting from his chest. The words poured from his mouth like honey, far smoother than he thought it would be.
She stared at him in disbelief, eyes bright and cheeks splashed with color. But when her lips curved into a smile, everything seemed right with the world.
"I never thought I would hear you say that to me," she whispered, her voice wavering. She pulled his face down to hers and grazed her mouth against his jaw. "I love you too, Quatre."
He said nothing, only smiled to hear her sweet voice speak those words. He pushed back silky black tendrils of hair, baring her shoulder for him to explore. His fingers circled the smooth skin there before replacing them with his mouth, nipping and suckling gently.
Really, he knew little of what he was doing. Allah knew he was mere months from sixteen years old, but being around her, this woman that managed to weave him into a pleasant stupor, gave him all the knowledge he needed to ensure her happiness, her pleasure, before the night was over.
With hands only slightly unsteady with nervousness, Quatre grabbed the hem of her shirt, sifting it gently up her body. Lista quickly complied, raising her arms above her head so he could remove it from her body. He felt like he was committing a great sin, and if that were true, he didn't believe he would have much difficulty in acting in such sin if it felt so deliciously good.
As soon as the cotton passed her body and fell to the floor, Lista grazed her fingers along the smooth plastic of his buttons, making quick but tantalizing work of them. Her eyes connected with his as she pushed his vest from his shoulders, and moved straight to his waist, untucking his shirt from his trousers. She was wasting little time to see him, to touch his bare flesh with her fingers like it was always meant to be done.
The cool fabric of his shirt was like ice prickling against fire as it glided down his shoulders, his arms. Her eyes scoped his bare chest, alabaster and pale but not unimpressive. Quatre had muscles, to be sure, from his intense training as a Gundam pilot, but the clothing he so frequently wore did little to accentuate such a physical being.
He was beautiful.
They stared upon one another for silent moments, taking in their half-nakedness and etching it deep within their minds. Quatre reached forward, stroking her cheek and gliding a palm down the long, muscular line of her arm. Her skin was soft as a feather and hot as a lick of fire. Yet another flawless detail of her body he swore to memorize.
Quatre's eyes followed her deft fingers as they landed on his belt buckle. She traced the square shape and began to undo it, metal and leather sifting through one another. His eyes weighed down in desire, the aching in the middle of his body intensifying even as the tension brought on from his trousers loosened. Watching her undress him was torturously difficult. If he didn't have an ounce of manners, he would have taken her already. But no, she deserved far more adoration than their first time being so hasty. He wouldn't have it. His control would remain, whether it pained him or not.
He was thrust out of his thoughts when he heard the sound of his zipper, the rasp of his trousers moving down his hips, his legs, to his ankles. He kicked himself free of the annoying article and found her eyes cemented on the middle of his body, hard against the flimsy fabric of his boxers.
Lista swallowed, her pulse thumping against her throat. Quatre's gaze over her body made her feel like she was ablaze from within. He bent down, eyes boring into hers, before skimming his hands along her neck. And where his fingers trailed, his mouth followed. If she were standing, she was sure her knees would have buckled beneath her.
But no, she was lying below him on her bed, blissfully half-naked as his mouth nipped against the underside of her jaw. She couldn't stop the moan from escaping her lips as she closed her eyes, reveling in the feel of his velvety mouth blanketing her like a warm spring rain. It felt heavenly.
His hands tugged at the hem of her pants, finding the single metal button keeping them snug against her waist. His mouth continued over her skin while he unclasped and unzipped her, sifting the thick material down her smooth thighs. She wriggled her bottom, assisting in their removal until they were gone, lost on the floor with the other articles of clothing.
Quatre pulled away from her, breathless, his legs falling in between hers. She stared up at him and reached up, grazing her thumb against his cheek, over his bottom lip. He took her hand in his, kissing her fingers with adoration, leaving a sweet taste upon his tongue.
She gently tugged her hand out of his and folded her arms behind herself, quickly making work of the set of clasps keeping her bra intact. Quatre watched her as if she were acting out a play, interested and curious, as the straps suddenly loosened and the satin undergarment fell away from her. Her face flared up in color more scarlet than blood, snapping her eyes away from his in embarrassment.
Quatre thought he would be embarrassed as well, seeing her like this, so exposed. He'd never seen a woman's body before. He was delighted to find just how perfect she seemed to be, skin the perfect shade of peach and her nipples perched hard and several shades pinker.
"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice rough like sandpaper. He released a heavy sigh, one he had no idea how long he'd been holding, and reached for her, cupping a cheek into the curve of his palm. "I never thought I would be so lucky, to be here with you, to see you like this."
"I only want it to be you," Lista murmured in returned, her green eyes rivaling that of any emerald. "Only you. No one else."
A spark of elation rose up in his belly, a sense of possession washing over him. He was suddenly glad to be alive merely for her sake, and for the sake of this single moment where time thought it worthy enough to stop for them.
He pressed his body against his, his hard middle sending heated jolts through hers, now damp and aching for his touch.
Patience wearing thin as paper, Quatre's hands made their way between them and found the last remaining line of defense hugging Lista's curvy hips. And just as he worked them down her legs, her hands made short work of his boxers. Both final articles of clothing were tossed carelessly to the side, leaving the pair of Gundam pilots to appreciate flesh against burning flesh.
Quatre slanted his mouth against hers, drawing the sweet breath from her lungs as he rested his body onto hers, pressing his erection against her lower stomach. He felt her jerk in response, but she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down until his full weight settled upon her. The need to feel every nook, every curve of his body against hers was nearly maddening. She never wanted to forget the way it felt for his skin to press against hers, like they were always meant to be this way.
The lock of Lista's arms loosened and they moved down his back, tracing her fingers down as she pulled her knees up and apart, planting the arch of her feet flat on the bed. She urged him to relax between her legs, to which he quickly consented, sighing against her lips as the tension in his muscles ceased.
He positioned himself at her entrance. There mere touch of his erection against her aching womanhood caused her to jerk away, drawing in a sharp moan. The slightest touch sent shivers through her blood, jerking every nerve-ending awake.
"Will you be all right?" he asked before proceeding. Her stroked a tender thumb against her cheek. "I don't want to hurt you."
She shook her head, a small smile curling onto her lips. "You won't."
He nodded once in affirmation and pressed his lips under her ear. "I'll go slow," he whispered, desire dripping from his voice like melted chocolate. With that, he pushed forward, groaning at the resistance he found, the wet heat that threatened to swallow him. He threaded his fingers into the bed of her raven hair, massaging gently and pulling his head away to check her expressions for discomfort. He was relieved to find none.
Taking that as his cue, he moved forward, gaining another inch. And another. Another. Her back instantly curved into his, releasing a breathless moan, as he filled her slowly. He bit down on his lips, careful to take a pace in which she would be able to handle without harming her. She winced a bit when he entered her completely, his body pressed tight against hers. He held there for several seconds before pulling back just as slow, holding back a groan in bliss at just how good it felt to know he was inside her, sheathing him like the softest silk.
He took a leisurely pace, feeling the resistance wane and her body relax against his. He leaned down and kissed her lazily, sweat dewing on his flesh and curling his hair at the ends. Her hands were on his back again, tracing a back and forth trail as if she were a heady explorer resolute to learn every last contour of his body.
He thrust in rhythm with every quickened heartbeat against his chest, her inner muscles defeated and relenting to his pleasant intrusion. He jerked his mouth away to groan, resting his forehead at the base of her neck. His breath heated her skin as he dragged his lips in lazy circles, touching his tongue to taste the salty perspiration that coated her flesh.
Lista spread her legs further, eager to feel him at the far reaches of her body where only he would be able to touch. She closed her eyes, whimpering as the dull sparks of an orgasm began to flicker to life in her belly, urging forward with every inward thrust that caused delicious friction inside her.
"Quatre, oh please," she begged, brows furrowing.
He lifted his head, gazing at her with a dazed sheen over his sea blue eyes. "What is it, sweetheart?" he asked, words barely coherent as he fought to regain his breath. A hand curled over her hip, pulling her closer to him as his thrusts steadily grew faster, harder.
"Don't stop. Please don't ever stop," she cried, coiling her head until her neck formed a perfect arch off the bed.
Quatre couldn't think for the life of him why he would dare stop. Bestowing such sweet torment upon them both was too tantalizing to stop. It was like plucking an apple from a tree in the Garden of Eden, wholly forbidden but its sinful call too loud to be ignored.
Lista's keening cries became more frequent, louder, calling his name in desperate abandon as he moved within her as if it were a clandestine dance only he knew the steps to. Her hips began moving in tune with his, meeting his thrusts with equal passion and a want for her release to explode around her in a nova of pleasurable shards nearly intoxicating.
Quatre felt her muscles bearing down on him, her movements against him erratic and fevered. He groaned her name in a jumble of incoherent syllables, snapping his eyes shut as he attempted to contain the flames which burned inside him, waiting to burst. This moment seemed far too decadent to be real as his breathing took off from him, his heart thrummed against his ribcage, sweat rolled down his face and fell to the body writhing beneath him in ecstasy.
But as he gazed down upon Lista, a petite hand latched onto the bedding while the other dug fingernail-shaped crescents into his back, he continued to pump into her body at a merciless pace and knew this moment was real as it was going to get. They were mere moments from their own brand of fireworks.
Lista released a mewl and her eyes snapped open, locking with his. She panted, whimpered, his name several times. "Oh God, I'm close. So close. Please."
The manner in which she spoke her words, desperate and pleading, was nearly enough to catapult him over the edge himself. He groaned her name loudly and lowered himself, capturing her lips hungrily.
And it was then that Lista's body jerked, his thrusts hitting the right tune inside her, and her release erupted within her like a grand volcano, molten lava warming her insides and careening her into space. She screamed into his kiss, uncaring of who would hear her as tiny explosions continued to go off inside her.
It was heaven.
Seeing her, feeling her, rocking against him and riding out the aftermath of her climax threw Quatre straight into his. He grunted and thrust two more times, allowing his own release to cascade over him, sending his body into a sensory overload of pleasure. Lista's hand fell away from him, pressing against her chest as if to steady her wildly beating heart.
Quatre blinked the stars from his eyes and suddenly lost all the strength in his limbs. He collapsed atop her, burying his face in the crook of her neck. He placed an open-mouth kiss over her pulse, taking small drops of dew on his tongue.
He listened to her shuddering breath in his ear until she finally rustled beneath him, lowering her legs into a more comfortable position. He rolled to his side, curling his arms around her back to pull her into his chest.
"Sweetheart? Are you all right?" he finally asked after several moments of recuperating silence.
Lista hummed contently deep in her throat, but said nothing. Instead, she nuzzled her nose against his shoulder and folded a leg over his. She curled into the warmth of his side, fully sated. Quatre trailed a finger unconsciously along her arm, his cheek rested atop her head.
Quatre didn't need to hear her speak to know what she was thinking. He knew everything he needed to know as he felt her lips brushing against his neck, felt her peering up at him with shattering green eyes. As much as he despised war, and how glad he was that it was over, he had to pass up a silent "thank you" for giving him the opportunity to meet such a woman.
He never thought he would be seeing anything positive in the war, but yet again, life had taken quite a surprising turn, and somehow he couldn't think of a point in his life when Lista was not in it. But he liked it better that way, as she lay falling asleep in his arms.
A/N: This is the second time I revised this story. The previous two versions were told in two first person POVs, but after reading through the old version, I realized the jump between POVs really interrupted the flow of the story, especially one of this genre. Plus, I'm not really a fan of first person POV. Third person allows me to give up so much more. So, I decided to rewrite it. I'm rather pleased with the quality of the scenes, even though they are A/U, even for my universe. Hehe. I like to take some liberties with these two. I think it's safe to say I'm addicted to them. I hope you all enjoyed this! I'm taking the old version down and replacing it with this. Thanks so much for reading!