........I want to write about my experiences with Quatre—especially those after we became lovers—because I don't want to forget him. Already the faces, voices, and other details of people I knew in my youth—people whom I thought I'd never forget—fade in my mind. I fear the same happening with Quatre, so I shall write my most intimate memories of him before they grow dim with time, and I shall treasure him, and what we shared. I'll celebrate these memories for they are what I still have of him, and through them, I can keep him in my life. I shall start with the last time we were together in what I would call innocence.

........ It was in the wee hours of the morning of the day we were to launch our attack at New Edwards. A sense of dread had settled in my stomach; it had disrupted my sleep and my dreams, and thus, I had abandoned attempts at both. Quatre lay sleeping beside me. Serenity graced his features in sleep, his lips having settled in an almost childlike pout, and the soft gold of his hair having spread across the pillow like satin. I gazed at him for what felt like hours, allowing my eyes to caress all the angles and curves of his features—to memorise them. Occasionally I'd close my eyes, and in my imagination, I'd sketch his face so that I could later call the image to mind with immediate fidelity.
........ After one such attempt, I opened my eyes and found him staring back at me, his half-lidded gaze sleep-muddled and soft. "S'it morning?" he mumbled at me.
........ "Not quite," I smiled. "You can go back to sleep."
........He rubbed sleep from his eyes, and propped himself up in a pose that mirrored my own. "I felt you watching me."
........"I couldn't sleep."
........He frowned at that and freed an arm from under the covers to reach for me. I let him push me onto my back and lie over me. "I believe I can help you with that," he said with a lazy smirk, and pressed his hips down. His burgeoning arousal pressed into mine, causing yet more blood to flee my mind in pursuit of more visceral pleasures.
........I relaxed under his touch, humming my pleasure when he kissed me. I savoured his lips against mine, and his tongue in my mouth—flavoured faintly with the tang of the strawberries he'd ordered from room service earlier. Deeply I inhaled, drawing the breath from his lungs as my hands drew him closer. After I returned his breath, he broke away to scoot down my torso. The friction of his belly sliding down my erection pulled a gasp from me, which encouraged him to rub against me repeatedly as he extended his tongue to toy wetly with one nipple. That stimulation crackled along my nerves to merge with the more tempered, but no less demanding, ache at my groin.
........The trickle of his desire insinuated itself into mine; I concentrated on it so my awareness of him would grow. Some isolated and abstract part of my mind marveled again that I could feel him at all, let alone this intensely at times. To feel his desire for me, to feel his responses to feeling my desire for him, it spun through me, sometimes so tangled I could hardly tell where I ended and he began. Other times, the threads of our passion were more distinct and separate. Right now his desire was a hunger rapidly consuming me.
........"Cat," I choked out, my fingers grasping and tugging the slippery material of his pyjamas, fumbling for bare skin, wanting to be as close to him as possible, wanting more of him inside me, wanting to be wholly ravished by him.
........I didn't have to tell him this; he could sense it all perfectly, and I felt his caresses change in response. Gentle hands grew insistent, and tender kisses turned bruising. He rose above me, stripping off his pyjamas, before tugging down my boxer-briefs and tossing them aside. His wide eyes glittered darkly in the soft light of our hotel suite.
........"Roll over," he said. Although Quatre spoke quietly, his tone was rough edged and infected with the urgency of our mutual want.
........I complied, spreading my legs as he settled between them on his knees. Caught beneath me, my cock throbbed, impatient for attention. But also clamoring for my attention was the more novel yearning to be filled by my lover, to feel him breach me so intimately and be taken so thoroughly.
........Vulnerable and exposed, I wasn't afraid. Part of my mind said I should be, but I wasn't. Rather, my position with Quatre left me suffused with a deeper arousal than merely that of my body. To be this close to him, to allow myself to trust him so implicitly—I was glad I had taken the leap of faith required to be with Quatre. If he could believe we'd survive the war, then I'd at least try.
........His fingers were gentle, almost too gentle, as he prepared me. Rarely did I experience such impatience, but I wanted to feel him inside me desperately.
........In retrospect, I wonder if it was because of my uncertainty—of truly not knowing what would pass later that day and of not knowing when—or if—I'd see him again. I find it ironic this didn't inspire me to want our foreplay paced more leisurely that morning.
........He stretched out above me to lie along my back, his weight a warm and heavy pressure rendering me immobile and somewhat breathless as I felt the head of his erection ease through the tight gate of body. His hands closed over my shoulders, and his lips caressed the side of my neck. A shudder rippled through me, a muffled groan escaped my lips, and Quatre paused for a moment.
........"How do you feel?" he asked me, his lips forming the words against the sensitive shape of my ear. It had amused me the first time we'd been together, that he—an empath—would ask such a thing. He'd explained that he didn't directly perceive my physical responses, only what he called my 'emotional interpretation' of them. Thus, my pleasure remained something of an enigma to him, and Quatre, being Quatre, was gravely concerned for my experience of our sex.
........My reply the first time had been, "I'll show you." And I had. We'd not slept at all that night. In the throes of our newfound passion and explorations, both time and our impending mission had slipped away. For that night, the universe had contained only he and I—curious, awestruck, and insatiable.
........"Incredible," I answered, my breathing long since grown rapid and shaky, and I was sweating. Although my range of motion was limited, I managed to squirm a little against him and was rewarded with an increase in the mind-bending pressure his presence exerted within me.
........"You do feel incredible," he murmured his breath tickling my neck as his fingers dug into muscle and bone. He resumed pressing forward.
........Receptive and relaxed, my body embraced the gradual slide of his length into me. With perfect clarity, I felt each moment of growing contact, each heady pressure, and each exquisite millimetre of friction.
........Though I wanted him moving within me fast and hard, he took me slowly that morning, using my impatience against me. Trapped beneath him, I had no recourse but to relax into his steady, measured torture. The way he built up the pleasure within me was almost delicate - exquisite for its focused intensity. He brought me to the edge many times before stopping and letting the incoming tide of my climax recede. When I finally came, it was with such euphoric purity, I nearly lost consciousness.
........Heedless of the remnants of our pleasure clinging to my skin, at last I drifted to sleep.

........
........When the time arrived to wake up, the buzz of the alarm clock roused me from a deep slumber. I heard Quatre swear rather indelicately, and flail blindly at the source of the noise. After several attempts, he succeeded in smacking the sleep button. He rolled over and our eyes met without words. I have to admit, my conviction wavered then. For the first time I can recall, I questioned the rightness of my being a soldier. It had been the way of things for me for as long as I remembered; now I took for granted my role as a fighter.
........Looking into Quatre's eyes, I doubted that role. I briefly imagined what my life would be without the continual summoning of conflict. I saw myself living somewhere remote with a well-stocked personal library and a housecat curled in my lap. I saw myself with Quatre, sipping coffee and watching a sunrise. I saw myself relaxed and smiling. I wanted that life; the desire for it twisted bitterly in my heart. I felt the pain of losing something I'd never even had.
........"What is it?" he asked, picking up my momentary despair.
........I forced a smile. God knows why I felt the need to lie through my expression. "Nothing you need to worry about," I said.
........"Okay," he sounded doubtful, but didn't press me. This was one of many things I loved about Quatre; he never tried to demand or take more from me than I was able to give.
........But I wanted to tell him. I wanted to tell him everything—of my dreams that he had encouraged, of my new hopes, and of my old fears. I wanted to stay in that room with him all day and tell him my life story, all of it. Without holding anything back, I wanted to tell him every joy and every sorrow, every triumph and every failure. I opened my mouth, but the words froze in my throat. No, they didn't freeze; they simply vanished. My vocabulary, my ability to articulate my thoughts, simply disappeared.
........Frustrated, I slid from the bed, and made my way to the bathroom without looking back at him. I moved through the routines of personal hygiene mechanically, struggling to rediscover my commitment to fight that day. But I was weary, tired to my very bones. If I'd ever truly felt young, I'm sure I would have wondered how I'd come to feel so old.
........Needless to say, I managed to summon enough internal fortitude to get through the preparations for battle that morning. I knew Quatre was concerned about me, and I knew my long silences and short replies pained him. However, I also knew no other way to get through the mission. I even told myself that any hurt I caused him that morning would surely make my death easier to bear should I die. Mentally I kicked my inner cynic. No such thing was true, yet I remained incapable of veering from the path of the stoic soldier. It was the way I had learned to survive.
........By the time we set out for the New Edwards Base I was actually looking forward to the battle. After so many years in the pilot's seat, it was comfortable and familiar enough that I embraced the meditative calm that overtook me in combat. My focus sped the demons of doubt from my mind, and I fought.
........The next time I saw Quatre; I didn't recognise him.