........He never told me he loved me. Quatre never did. As much as I wish he had, I know—as much as I can claim to know anything—that he did love me. I can even remember the exact moment I realised he did.
........At that time, I had yet to regain my memories. Quatre hadn't told me we'd been lovers before, only that we'd been very close—best—friends. It's peculiar now that I have memories of falling for him twice—once on the Destiny, and then again on Peacemillion. I believe I am lucky for this, since I doubt many people can claim to have found their soulmate even once, let alone twice.
........The first time it was he who had initiated things between us—of course. Before the accident, I was ill prepared to have done so myself. Afterwards, when I was free from the burden of my own memories, but Quatre's burden had increased one hundred fold, it fell to me to be the hopeful one, the romantic one.
........He'd had a fearful reluctance to be with me then, but he'd also had a tremendous desire to the contrary. This conflict I interpreted erroneously as discomfort about pursuing a homosexual relationship with me. He'd spoken of his father's attitudes, and while Quatre's father was deceased, I knew the man still had a powerful influence over his only son. Thus I was far more persistent than I would have been had I understood the true nature of his fears.
........I snatched every opportunity to coax away Quatre's reticence by stealing kisses and teasing him with discreet, intimate caresses. Invariably he'd make some small gesture of rejection of my advances, before melting into my embrace with a sigh. I'd be sure to leave him breathless and unsatisfied in the hope that he'd be encouraged to take more initiative himself. However he stubbornly remained in a passive role. It was like he wanted me to push him into a sexual relationship with me, as if something held him back from entering into such a situation wholly of his own volition .
........This was something I refused to do. I could tease him with promises of pleasure to be found together, but I'd never force him into anything more. Even the teasing was beginning to leave a bad taste in my mouth. I decided to give up, to at least try to let things between us revert back to a—hopefully—uncomplicated friendship.

........We'd been in his quarters relaxing after the latest outing. He'd been expectant, waiting for me to kiss him or touch him as I usually would. It took all my willpower not to oblige.
........With him lying so close to me on his small bunk, the smell of battle clinging to his skin, and his flight suit carelessly unzipped, I yearned for him.
........I hungered for him. I wanted to strip the tight black garment from his shoulders, jerk it down his hips and tear away the thin cotton material beneath. I wanted to expose more of his body, more of his skin to my sight, my smell, my touch. I ached to devour him, to take my mouth and tongue to every exposed place, to taste all of him, to fill my senses with him. I longed to sink into his body, to bury myself deep within him, to hold him close, to feel him tremble against me and around me, to feel the heat of his body, damp with sweat, moving with me. I wanted to take him—hard, gentle, fast, deep, slow—in every way I could. I wanted to make love to him for hours, and then fuck him senseless; to take him as thoroughly as possible, and then to start all over again at the beginning...
........But none of these things could I tell him. Instead I said only, "I want to be with you, Quatre, but I'll not pressure you into it." I kissed him once, chastely, got up, and left him alone.
........I made my way back to my own quarters, my desire for him a throbbing ache of frustration. Quatre's distress and confusion remained wedged in my consciousness, indelible and inescapable. I knew he wanted it, wanted me, as much as I wanted him. I could feel it—his desire—trickling through my brain, ticklish and seductive. But until he was comfortable expressing that desire in some way, I had to try to establish some distance between us.

........In the shower, I still couldn't shake his presence in my mind, nor could I shake the hunger burning under my skin. Feverish and dizzy, I wondered if I'd ever used to feel this way about Quatre. Was there something deeply wrong with me that I couldn't shake this hunger? It intruded into both wakefulness and sleep making my fantasies and dreams so vivid they seemed like memories.
........Like memories. If only I'd known.
........I turned off the water, but remained in the shower, my thoughts more than enough to keep me warm. Wiping water from my face with one hand, with the other I took my unrelieved erection. I closed my eyes and leaned against the wall while I called to mind those memory-like images and feelings. I began to touch myself, not the way I usually did—with efficient, well-informed movements—but the way I thought he would.
........Slowly at first, I moved my fingers across the head of my cock, exploring the different textures of the skin there and savouring the pleasurable tingle that began to grow in response. "Would you touch me like this, Quatre?" I murmured to the humid air, willing him to feel what I was feeling, urging the question through the bulkheads to find him.
........"I know you can feel it," I continued, only marginally increasing the speed and precision of my fingers. I imagined Quatre in his room, his attention riveted on his awareness of me. "Are you hard yet?" I asked him.
........Now I visualised him shimmying out of his flight suit, his face flushed with arousal, to stretch out on his back. His naked erection , dusky and swollen, reared up from between his legs.
........"Do you want to know how I'd touch you?"
........I imagined him nodding mutely in response before he pinched his eyes shut and bit down on his bottom lip. As I watched, he spread his fingers and slid his hands down his body. "Show me, Trowa," he whispered, pressing his palms over his stomach. "I want to know."
........My fantasy Quatre bent his knees and spread his legs; one hand moved lower to cup the soft sac of his testicles while the other closed about the hard shaft of his arousal. "Show me, Trowa," he repeated, more loudly, his voice tight, his breathing coming faster. "Show me."
........Eager to comply with his imagined request, I changed the pattern of my fingers' dance—more friction, more contact, faster. I groaned as I wound the thread of my own pleasure tighter.
........Like a marionette bound to the theatre of my mind, Quatre's hand moved, synchronised perfectly with my own as I increased again the speed of my movements.
........The pressure in my belly continued to grow, the euphoria growing evermore dense and focused. But I wanted to draw out my mental drama as long as possible. I gritted my teeth against the urge to succumb to the surfeit of pleasure condensing in my loins.
........"Want you, Quatre," I forced out, grappling for more control. But the fantasy fragmented. My willpower unraveled with the speed and surety of gravity as the leading edge of my orgasm caught me, surging through my entire body in an intoxicating rush.
........"Come for me, Trowa," I heard him whisper in my ear while, like a cobra, my climax struck, tearing a hoarse cry from my throat and pushing the heat of perfect pleasure from me, its remnants spilling over my hand.

........At length my eyes cracked open to take in the small stainless steel shower stall. I was still alone, but for now at least, sated. Panting , I turned the shower back on for a time and stood, letting the cool water soothe my heated skin while my heart slowed.
........Eventually I staggered to my bunk and slipped between the sheets without dressing. I'd probably wake up cold later. Space was very cold, and many nights I'd been very appreciative of the pyjamas Wufei had loaned me. The cold seemed to affect me more than I felt it should, although I didn't have any past memories of sleeping in space with which to compare my current situation. Nevertheless, I often woke up shivering, deeply chilled, and feeling as if I would never know warmth again.
........I struggled to find a comfortable position under the covers, alternating between tucking my legs up near my torso as I lay on my side and lying on my stomach with my arms folded under my pillow. I realised I missed Quatre. Now that I'd found some respite from my physical urges, I wished he were here to talk with. In his absence, I felt a peculiar loneliness. I couldn't ask him anything, or make him laugh. I couldn't doze off listening to one of his stories, or think aloud with him—or just be silent and comfortable in his company.
........But I must have fallen asleep at some stage, since the next thing I was aware of was being awakened by light on my face and the hiss of my cabin door.
........"Hi," he spoke softly after the door whisked shut behind him and my room was plunged once more into the eternal, chill twilight of space.
........My lips formed an answering greeting, but no air escaped my lungs.
........"I'm sorry," he said from where he stood, shadowy and pale, by the door. "I should have come sooner. I just..." he trailed off with a weak shrug.
........Paralyzed and dumb, all I could do was watch him move deeper into the frail light near the centre of the chamber. He looked nearly transparent—his skin and hair too pale to be real.
........"I know what you want. I do," he continued, but didn't look at me. Rather, his eyes were fixed on his hands as he fidgeted with the buttons on his vest. "I can't..." He swallowed. "I can't deny you... it... me," his voice crumpled like damp paper.
........After taking a deep breath, he continued in a steadier tone. "I've made so many mistakes. I want to try to make things right. At least with you." Although Quatre addressed me, I felt like I was merely an audience to his monologue. I didn't understand what he was talking about as he slipped off his vest and turned to lay it over the back of my desk chair.
........"I'm so tired, Trowa," he said, facing away from me while he untucked his shirt. "I'm tired of fighting," he turned back to me, his eyes lowered to his fingers methodically descending the centre of his shirt, unfastening each button. "I can't keep fighting this." He shrugged off his shirt, carefully laying it on top of his vest.
........"I want..." he said to his belt buckle. "I just want..." he pulled his belt free from his pants, draping it over his shirt.
........When he didn't finish that thought, I tried to speak. When I found my voice, "What do you want?" I asked him.
........"I want to forget," he whispered, bending to remove his shoes and socks. I heard him take a ragged breath. "I want to..." his voice broke as he stripped off his pants and underwear. "I want you to..." I realised he was crying.
........"Quatre?" I prompted. A chill seized me when I pushed my sheets away to turn and sit on the edge of my bed.
........"... make me forget," he said to the floor, and then raised his head to meet my eyes at last. "Please? Just for a little while?"
........Silver skin, pewter eyes, and platinum hair matched Quatre's mercury tears. I held out one hand, and, winning the battle with the tightness in my throat, spoke quietly, "Will you let me?"
........I didn't know the source of his sadness. He wouldn't tell me. I had asked, but all he would ever say if I pressed him was, "One day, Trowa. One day, you'll hate me." The prophesy in his voice scared me.
........I didn't care what the source of that sadness was any longer. All I wanted to do was help him chase it away.
........I didn't want to see his tears, but I forced myself to look directly at his grief-etched face, and to smile with as much warmth and reassurance as I could.
........With halting steps he approached the bed. As the fingers of my outstretched hand brushed his wrist, he stopped, twisting his arm to press our palms together, with our fingers pointing up. It was an odd gesture, devoid of any real significance, I was sure, but it lent a ritualistic mood to the moment.
........Our fingers interlaced. I tossed my hair from my face and studied him. I wondered if he looked the same as he had when we'd first met, or if the muscles across his chest and along his arms were more developed now. I wondered if the scratches and bruises had already been there then. And the scar beneath his collarbone—had he told me where he'd gotten it?
........Was his hair longer or shorter now? Had his smile always held such melancholy? Had my gaze always lingered on the slender strength of his form?
........My free hand rose and I touched him. I inhaled slowly, drawing the pads of my fingertips along the ridges of his ribcage to his stomach. My eyes descended before my hand, moving lower, taking in shape of his erection. I allowed my gaze to remain at his crotch, admiring the solid, tangible sign of his desire for me, while my fingertips stroked small spirals over the trembling muscles of his abdomen.
........I discovered something strange as my caresses increased in confidence. Touching Quatre was like piloting a mobile suit. It didn't feel like the first time I'd touched him when I took his shaft in my hand. Somehow I knew just how much he liked me to squeeze, just how to swipe the pad of my thumb over the head as I slid my hand along his length.
........He leaned into my touch, pushing into my palm with shallow thrusts, movements which increased in tempo when I leaned forward to sample the flesh of his torso. Openmouthed, I covered one taut nipple with the full body of my tongue, massaging it with a languorous undulation of that muscle, heedless of the saliva escaping my lips to trickle down his skin.
........The sounds he made, I still don't know how to describe them, but they held something so primal and pure; I was transfixed by the ease with which Quatre gave himself over to my touch.
........Our interlaced fingers broke apart as Quatre freed his hand to hesitantly lay it upon my shoulder. His other arm still hung limply at his side. I slid my free hand around his waist and up his back, enjoying the line of his torso as it flared from his narrow waist and hips to the greater breadth of hard muscles across his ribs and shoulders. Spreading my knees, I scooted closer to the edge of my bunk while drawing him nearer, until he was forced to wrap both arms around me and his erection jabbed into my torso.
........A delighted shiver rippled through him when I curled just the tip of my tongue against his nipple, fine-tuning the attention I paid it. Gradually, my lips and tongue meandered across his chest to find its twin. Circling his areola with my pointed tongue, I quickened the movement of my hand along his cock, now dragging the head over my abdomen as I stroked him, painting myself with the slick fluid seeping forth.
........"Ah, feels good," he gasped, digging his fingertips into my shoulder blades. "I want... Trowa, I want more."
........I pulled back, tilting my head to meet his eyes and understood we wanted the same thing. "Spread your legs a little," I told him. My hand released his shaft and moved to press gently between his thighs, prompting him to obey my request.
........I eased my hand further between his legs, my fingers creeping behind the pouch of his testicles, carefully seeking and softly probing where I found tight, damp heat. This was what I wanted, where I longed to be—inside—surrounded and swallowed by his delicious heat. Slowly, firmly, I rubbed his entrance with my fingertips, watching his face for his response.
........He gritted his teeth against my touch; his glazed eyes bored into mine.
........"I'll be gentle," I promised, brushing his bangs from his face with my other hand. "I won't hurt you."
........Bitterness twisted his lips before he turned his face away. "Don't worry, you won't."
........Realisation. "You've... you're not...?" I stammered, too abruptly withdrawing my hand. I'd simply assumed Quatre had never been with anyone before - certainly not a man.
........"I've done this before, if that's what you're asking."
........Taken aback, I could only mumble a flustered apology to him for having been so wrong. "I'm sorry, I didn't know. I didn't mean to..."
........He cut me off. "Don't be sorry. I didn't tell you."
........I wanted to ask who it had been. Did they care about him as much as I did? Had he enjoyed it? Why hadn't he told me? Where did his bitterness come from?
........He sensed my perturbation and spoke again before I could rally my own words, "Are you upset with me?"
........"No, of course not. I'm just surprised." I didn't like the expression my response elicited, so I tried to explain. "You seemed so uncomfortable about... things." I finished lamely.
........"I didn't want to hurt you."
........"Why would I be hurt? I don't...?"
........He stopped any further commentary from me by bending near and seizing my mouth with his own, kissing me with a savagery I found even more surprising than his recent confession. He pushed me back, forcing me to turn and bring my legs up to the bed, lest I crack my skull against the bulkhead. I lay on my back, breathless, after he broke the kiss and crawled over me. "Shut up," he said. In his eyes flashed something dark. "I don't want to talk any more."
........Pinning my arms at my sides he lowered his head again to kiss me. Hungry, passion-clumsy, and wet his tongue invaded my mouth, gliding over my teeth and gums, retreating so he could nibble and suckle at my lips, and then surging back in to tangle with my own.
........I arched my back, lifting my hips and causing my erection to brush against his. Though that contact was maddeningly light, I began to thrust rhythmically; the ticklish, vague contact doing nothing to soothe the ravening throb at my groin. His hands wandered over me, sure and strong.
........I barely noticed when he broke the kiss, so lost was I in the seductive murmuring of my body. His voice, low, and lush like velvet, leaked through my mental haze.
........"What do you have for lube?" he asked.
........"Mmm," I managed, clawing through my brain for both an answer and the eloquence with which to deliver it.
........But eloquence remained elusive. I was warm. For the first time I could recollect I felt truly warm - perfectly, sublimely, and decadently warm. The warmth emanated from both within and without; my sense of Quatre, his feelings for me, I basked in—soaking up that warmth—his warmth, like the rays of a midnight sun.
........"Hey?" he prompted me, tenderness in his voice. His fingers brushed my closed eyelids, feathery and soft.
........Then suddenly I knew. No, it was more than knowledge—it was something deeper—almost like something that had always been part of me but until now I'd never recognised it. I realised. I recognised. I knew. I loved him.
........My eyes snapped open; I began to speak, but was silenced by his fingers covering my mouth. "Don't say it," he said. "Please don't."
........I nodded and he slowly removed his hand. "Massage oil," I said instead, remembering the leftover bottle Catherine had given me.
........"Where?"
........"Bathroom."
........As I waited for his return, I wondered about my past again. It was unsettling that I couldn't remember any of my own sexual experiences—strange that sex was so immediately familiar, but yet novel.
........After climbing back on the bed to straddle me, Quatre unscrewed the lid of the small brown bottle he'd collected and gave it an experimental sniff. The tangy tart scent of rosemary and citrus reached my nostrils. "Are you sure this isn't for cooking?" he asked, tilting the bottle to read the label.
........"It's not—it's supposed to be refreshing," I laughed. "I acquired it for therapeutic reasons only."
........"It says it's purifying and uplifting," he smirked, pouring a handful, and carefully securing the cap back on the bottle.
........"Purify me then," I said, reaching to caress his thigh, my fingers meandering closer to his crotch.
........He answered, by rubbing his hands together and then taking my cock with one while reaching behind himself with the other. I braced one hand on his shoulder to help him keep his balance, my eyes riveted on the display of his preparations. He stroked me with the same rhythm he used to stretch and lubricate himself. Slow, methodical, and thorough. I could have lived and died in that perfect rhythm, my pleasure building with such lethargy; I could savour each discrete delicious twinge and warm tingle his touch incited.
........I sighed my contentment, relaxing into the gentle delirium of his touch. Before long he was guiding me inside him, shortening the motion of his hand as he gradually replaced it, enveloping me so intimately, so completely.
........"Oh..." he gasped, settling around me. "You feel... oh, you feel... so good." He moved against me so slowly. "It's been so long," he breathed faintly.
........Drowsy and dreamlike, he rolled his hips back and forth, side to side. I felt drugged, snared in some strange thick timelessness, where everything moved in slow motion - my thoughts, my senses, my body, Quatre... all of it.
........But as he continued to sway and swagger above me, I could sense time speeding back up. The gentle honeyed warmth of my passions stirred. What was viscous became liquid. What had been comfortably warm grew white hot. Soon I was digging my fingers into the soft flesh of his buttocks, panting openmouthed, and shoving up into him again and again with sharp, shallow thrusts.
........He leaned back, his hands gripping my thighs almost cruelly, crying out loudly at each jolt of our bodies' impact. Those cries I wanted to swallow; I wanted to drown myself on his lips. I struggled to sit up, and tried to coax him to lean forward.
........But he fell away from me, eluding my desire. He lay on his back between my parted legs and unfolded his own to wrap them loosely about my waist. Still, I wanted to be closer.
........I improvised. One at a time, I slipped my arms beneath his legs to lift them up to my shoulders, pulling him closer to me in the process, and gasping as I sunk deeper.
........Quatre jerked his hips against me—squirming and grinding—his entire body moving with a sinuous, crazy grace. His skin, glossy with sweat and flushed deeply with arousal, only accentuated the rhythmic contractions and relaxations of his muscles. I closed my eyes, unable to continue processing visual information alongside the heat and pressure of Quatre's body flaying my coherency.
........It was too much—too much everything. I burned; I froze. I flew; I fell. The fountainhead of all my pleasure, all my desire—that elusive font of sensation—overflowed, filling me and yet I was never full. The whispering promise of my completion rippled deep in my chest, anchored to the inexorable pull at my groin, but yet woefully far beyond my reach.
........Fragments of Quatre's consciousness caught me. Like vines they elongated and twisted, piercing my skin, sliding into my very soul to twine about the centre of my every feeling. His hold on me seemed to harden, strengthen and tighten, as the sensation of his consciousness infiltrating mine continued unabated.
........With a groan, I opened my eyes to watch him again, and tightened my hold on his thighs flexing against my chest. He lay with his arms flung out to the sides, the pleasure contorting his face so much like pain that my fevered brain thought our joining a crucifixion of lust, with him writhing against his impalement, but with the sounds of his frustrated pleasure pounding into me like nails.
........I was the one who found myself utterly taken and helpless in the throes of our coupling. Seated, with Quatre lying between my thighs, his legs draped over my shoulders, I could achieve no leverage at all to control our rhythm. Quatre's pace was impatient, yet excruciating for the limitation of friction imposed by our positioning.
........"Wait... stop," I panted, sliding my hands down to his hips in an attempt to hold him immobile.
........He fell still except for the rapid, shallow rise and fall of his chest. He opened his eyes to meet mine. Glassy and unfocused, they held a desperate hunger. Had I not also been consumed by that same yearning, I think I would have been unnerved.
........His lips moved, forming two spare syllables, but I didn't hear what he said.
........"What?" I asked, my voice hoarse and low from lack of breath.
........Quatre grimaced, discomfiture flitting across his features, as if whatever it had been, he didn't want to have to say it again. I waited, unmoving, feeling the throb of my own heartbeat suffusing me, parallel to the throbbing of his heartbeat surrounding me.
........A glance at the ceiling was followed by his tongue flicking out to moisten his lips. He closed his eyes. "Fuck me," he said, his voice steady and, this time, loud enough for me to hear.
........"What?" I asked again, wanting to hear him say it again.
........"Fuck me, Trowa," he repeated, but now his voice grew laboured, strained; his brow furrowed, tense. Arching his back, he scooted away from me, both of us making noises of disappointment as I slipped free of his body. I wasted no time in bringing my legs under myself and bending over him. Roughly, I pushed his thighs back, folding him double beneath me, as I stole the kiss he had denied me earlier.
........I grasped my erection with my hand, guiding myself back to where I longed to be. But I was patient. I merely nudged at his opening, before drawing the head of my cock around and over the tight rim of his entrance.
........"Trowa," he complained, breaking the kiss.
........"Say it again," I murmured against the damp skin of his neck, continuing to tease him.
........"Say what?" he asked, but his attempt at innocence failed; it contrasted too sharply with his lust-laden tone.
........I chuckled, and was pleased to hear sounds of amusement from him as well.
........Silky and sweet was his subsequent whisper. "Fuck me, Trowa," he breathed, "Please?"
........I shuddered at the sharp spike of sensation his words inflamed and relented. "You asked so nicely..." I panted and dipped into him slowly, pushing just the head of my erection past the heady resistance of his anus. I stopped while he twisted beneath me, trying to force me deeper.
........Instead I pulled back out. His cry of complaint was more plaintive now, but I cut it off when I returned to him with another slow, shallow intrusion. I repeated this several times, relishing the sensation of his body yielding freshly to me each time I nudged inside. Sounds of not only Quatre's frustration, but also his enjoyment grew louder in response.
........"Why," he panted, "Why're... you... teasing me... like this?"
........I paused, lowering my head to kiss him lazily, taking my time with a languid exploration of his mouth while he quivered, helpless, against me. When I drew back I answered, "Because you like it."
........"I do..." he agreed with a whisper that changed to a long tortured groan as I entered him yet again, this time moving a little deeper before making my full retreat.
........The bonds of my own restraint were rapidly fraying, in danger of tearing completely, but I gritted my teeth, easing back into Quatre, taking my time to savour each sound of his pleasure, each delightful pressure of his body. I swiveled my hips to our mutual benefit. "We should've... done this... much sooner," was my forced hoarse whisper.
........At that Quatre went very quiet and very still.
........But only for a moment. I started to ask him what was wrong, but he wrapped one hand about my neck and pulled me close. "Less talking, more fucking," he growled, his eyes meeting mine with a startling intensity.
........"Okay," I acquiesced, and sat back on my heels, sliding my hands along his legs to slip my elbows under his knees and my palms under his buttocks. I pulled him into my lap and positioned myself.
........Our eyes met in a fleeting moment that yet lingered between us—that yet lingers in my mind now. I remember his expression so clearly. The desperate hunger had abandoned his eyes to be replaced by sudden vulnerability. Moisture gathered in his gaze, and his lips moved, saying my name so softly. My name.
........I pulled him onto me as I pushed forward, rising to my knees, lifting his lower body off the bed, and sliding into him easily. Our eye contact broke when he threw his head back to sob his pleasure. His arms snapped rigid against the bed for support as I bent and gathered him more strongly against me.
........His spine limp with surrender, the weight of his body in my arms was easily obliterated by the slow burn of our passion as I ground my hips into him, seizing every millimetre of contact I could, pushing ever deeper into him and pulling him ever closer. When I was satisfied I could sink no further, I began to fuck him.
........My rhythm was like a bass drum, steady, deep, and relentless, beating away fear; beating away sadness. Together we marched to paradise.
........I was consumed. The way his body clung to me, greedy and hot; the way his insides melted around me, cradling me in such perfect slick liquescence—his body was my altar, his name my prayer, and his cries my hymns. Each thrust took me one more unrepentant step closer to heaven.
........My universe shattered, my senses vanquished—conquered by the thrall of our union. Quatre's screamed perfection seared my brain, tearing me apart, unmaking me in a blinding instant of white rapture.
........I couldn't move for a time, my joints and muscles petrified while reason returned, settling into my mind too heavy and dense. Stiffly, I disentangled our bodies, gingerly stretching out close beside him to rest my head upon his chest. "Quat..." I mumbled, my tongue too thick and leaden to form the final uvular syllable.
........"Cat," he said softly, correcting me. "You used to call me that."
........I smiled against his skin, "Cat," I confirmed. It did feel familiar. "I wish I remembered things."
........He didn't say anything.
........"At least I'm making new memories," I continued. "Thank you."
........A lazy hand tangled in my hair. I drifted to sleep.

........Later he woke me. I opened my eyes to find him fully dressed sitting on the edge of my bunk. He smiled that beautiful melancholy smile of his, brushing his fingertips across my cheek to my lips. My lips curved under his touch.
........"I'm going back to my quarters," he said. It made sense to me. We both needed whatever sleep we could scavenge, and the bunks on Peacemillion were too small for two to share comfortably. I nodded, kissing his fingertips.
........"I'm sorry," he said.
........I raised an eyebrow.
........"I'm so selfish," he explained, although it did nothing to illumine the reasons for his apology to me. "Good night, Trowa."
........"Good night," I replied as he rose, leaving me too swiftly.
........Oh, I wanted him to stay a little longer. I wish he had—just a little longer.
........But I didn't want to ask him to.