I created this fic for International Fanworks Day. The Challenge was to take your favorite character and show how they would express the fangirl/fanboy in them. I was very excited for this, I have been waiting years for an excuse to write the below fic.
Come with Me (or Gundam Wing Cosplay)
“Absolutely not.” Quatre said firmly. He went back to signing the mound of papers on his desk. A requisition for steel beams moved to the completed stack, only a hundred more to go. He tried to focus on his work, but he could feel her eyes burning into him. There was no way she was giving up this easily. If two weeks of hinting and suggesting could be called easy.
The plush carpet softened the sound of her high heels as she moved around the desk. A pair of warm arms encircled his neck. Her breath caressed his ear; he could almost feel her lips. He couldn’t stop the shudder that ran down his back. Damn it, it wasn’t fair to use his reactions against him. But this was Dorothy and she played to win.
“Come on, Quatre.” she purred into his ear. “You know you want to see Trowa in his costume.”
He squirmed a little in his chair. The outfit Dorothy had made for Trowa was indecent. Leaving nothing to the imagination, but he imagined it anyway. Just like everyone else who were going to be looking at him. Quatre scowled at his desk. He wasn’t proud of it, but he was a jealous possessive person when it came to his lovers. That they intended to parade around half naked with most of the colony staring at them, just drove him crazy.
“Just think,” Dorothy continued, “after a day of all that attention, Trowa will be so wound up by the time we get home.” Her lips ghosted over his ear. “We’ll slowly peal his clothes off and listen to him whimper and beg for release.” Teeth nipped delicately at an earlobe.
He held on to the moan trying to work its way up his throat. The image of their acrobat writhing on silk sheets, fingers clawing the slippery material, body bowing upward, filled his mind. And the sounds. Oh, the amazing sounds ripped from the usually silent man.
Quatre writhed in his chair. He might despise all of the attention, but Trowa, Trowa loved it. He was an entertainer by profession and desire. There was no longer any need for him to perform. Not with Quatre and Dorothy’s combined assets and real estate. Trowa could afford to live any lifestyle he chose. The circus called him, the crowds, and the applause. There was a fire inside him that burned brightest under the big top lights. Quatre’s most erotic dreams came true after an amazing performance.
“If you don’t come with us,” Dorothy’s voice pulled him back from his imaginings. “I will keep it all for myself.” Her hands slid down the front of his shirt, slipping inside his vest, caressing the muscles beneath the thin layer of fabric. “But it would be much more fun sharing it with you.” She applied her lips and tongue to the side of his neck.
He didn’t even attempt to contain the moan this time. With each pull on his neck it shot heat straight to his groin.
“This-” he gasped, “is blackmail.”
“Hmmm” she purred against his throat.
He was wondering how far she would go. It wouldn’t be the first time they had done it in his office, but he really couldn’t afford to knock all this paper work on the floor. It would take forever to sort out. She found a nipple and he immediately reconsidered.
Then the door opened and Trowa walked in. His breath caught in his throat.
Blue tights molded themselves to long muscular legs; a black belt buckled low exposing just a hint of hipbone. His chest was barely covered by white and gold vinyl literally glued to his chest tapering down to a point at his bellybutton. A beautiful eight pack on display, glorious bare arms, with a short red cape down his back not quite long enough to cover his amazing ass, completed the outfit.
A flush suffused Quatre’s face, he wanted nothing more than to push Trowa down onto the carpet and worship every bit of exposed skin. He could already taste the slightly saltyness on his tongue; hear the quick gasp as he bit down just above the tempting hipbone.
Reluctantly he drug his eyes up to meet Trowa’s gaze. Silent humor glimmer in the quiet green depths.
“Quatre,” Trowa said softly.
It was all over.
“I’ll go.” Quatre felt Dorothy smile against his skin, “I’ll wear whatever you have planned.”
“Thank you,” Dorothy breathed in his ear. She reached down and stroked him through his trousers.
He groaned. “But, we won’t stay long or I’m going to jump him right in the middle of the convention floor.”
Quatre kept his red mask pulled down; it made the spectacle almost bearable. He didn’t need to fear for his reputation, there was no way anyone would recognize him in the red corset and mini skirt. A long black wig and half mask easily concealed his identity. He really wasn’t comfortable with so much exposed skin, but he was under strict orders not to pull his long purple cape around himself.
As they stopped yet again for pictures, he glanced over at Dorothy on the other side of Trowa in her own white corset and mini skirt. She sported a golden tiara which framed her face, a matching gold belt, red cape and she carried a sword. Quatre didn’t know who they were dressed as, but it was causing quite a stir.
Phone cameras flashed with them just standing still, but that wasn’t enough for Dorothy. She reached over and pulled him close, so his cheek rested on Trowa’s chest, while she duplicated it on the other side. There was excited clapping and more flashes.
“Quatre,” Dorothy said, and he turned his face toward her hoping it was over. She grinned at him. He felt his heart melt a little; it was a genuine happy smile. With none of her usual cynicism or sarcasm hiding behind it. It was a rare and precious thing to see her enjoy simple uncomplicated joy. He couldn’t help returning the smile. If it made her happy then maybe it wasn’t so bad.
Without thinking about it, forgetting the audience, he leaned forward and kissed her.
Screams erupted. They were drowned in flashing lights.
He pulled back so there was just a breath between their lips, “could we get out of here?”
Her eyes twinkled mischievously, “I have the power.”