It was around midnight when Quatre finally stepped into his apartment again after a long but satisfying day off. It had been of those rare occasions when Trowa's circus visited his home colony, and not wanting to waste a minute of time with the green eyed Gundam pilot turned clown turned lion tamer, Quatre had taken the entire day off to spend it with the object for his secret love.

          Oh yes, it was still a secret. Or that's what Quatre thought, anyway. He certainly hadn't told his friend, and unless Duo had squealed... Hm, no. Locking the door behind him, Quatre navigated though the dark apartment towards his bedroom, precious cargo still pinched under his arm. Actually, it was only two plush dolls, but to Quatre it was the most important thing in his universe, at the moment.

          Maybe not something you'd expect the richest guy on L4 to find interesting, but the official merchandise of the circus had been too adorable for Quatre to ignore, quite simply. Well, at least the Trowa plushie. He bought a Catherine doll too, mostly for the alibi, but he quickly dismissed her into the laundry basket without further thought as soon as he entered his room.

          The Trowa doll, on the other hand... Quatre pondered for a moment where to put it, before he boldly, and with a wild blush, placed it on his bed, making the doll's back rest against the headboard. It wasn't Trowa... only the next best thing, Quatre reasoned. Feeling remarkably pleased with himself after a successful day, Quatre whistled out of tune as he stepped into the bathroom for a much-needed shower.

          + + +

          Tossing and turning for a good twenty minutes, plagued by the lingering memories of Trowa's muscular body as he worked the lion taming whip, Quatre did what he could to push the images away and fall asleep, later that night. And failing miserably, of course.

          Trowa's sweaty body gleamed against Quatre in his semi-dreams, and he became increasingly bothered by the visions. Not to mention hot. The boxers strained uncomfortably, so he kicked them off, before rolling over onto his stomach in desperation. He had to sleep now or he'd never make to work on time tomorrow! Alas, such frustrated outbursts did nothing to relieve him of the now painfully pleasurable pressure in his groin.

          Frustrated, Quatre sat up in bed, not yet willing to give in to his sinful fantasies. The Trowa doll gazed questioningly at him in the faintly lit room, the streetlights from far below reflecting in its glassy eyes. For an eerie moment, Quatre thought that perhaps Trowa had a psychic link to the doll, because it suddenly felt as if it was the original rather than the copy that watched him solemnly. Quatre laughed nervously.

          /Too much cotton candy, for sure./

          "But you're not real, are you?" Quatre asked the felt plushie.

          The doll didn't answer, predictably.

          "Because if you were real... in my bed... and I was entirely naked..." Quatre mused, still staring at the doll. "I'd kiss you."

          Then he giggled a little embarrassed, before stopping himself. This wasn't exactly normal behaviour, he realised. Boys don't giggle or talk to dolls in their beds, that's just the way things were. He must be dreaming. Flopping back onto the bed with a dejected sigh, Quatre proceeded to stare at the ceiling.

          If Trowa had been in his bed, and how much did Quatre not wish it were so, he would have kissed him. Then Trowa would gently lean over Quatre, unbuttoning his pajamas slowly while working miracles with his tongue in Quatre's mouth. Nevermind that Quatre always slept in boxers only. In his fantasy, Trowa would push the night-shirt over his shoulder, kissing the exposed area as the fabric fell soundlessly to the floor.

          Although the fantasy had started in a bed, Trowa now picked Quatre up to carry him to a more comfortable place for their nude explorations. The cool sheets pressed into Quatre's back, and the warm body of Trowa pinned him to the bed, hard. Quatre breathed a bit faster, both in reality and in his fantasy. Trowa's hair tickled him as his daydream lover moved downwards, and Quatre knew exactly what was about to happen.

          Grabbing onto a pillow, Quatre's hands moved down his body to emulate the movements of his phantom lover. Absently flicking the fabric across a nipple, and not stopping to pay attention to his belly button, Quatre purposefully moved his hand downward with caressing movements. Trowa wouldn't be this fast; Trowa would tease him until Quatre would beg to be fucked silly. Or he'd simply grab Trowa and do the act himself. Whichever was more convenient.

          A little jolt of pleasure jolted down his groin at the dirty thoughts, and the hand found its target. Quatre moaned as the little pillow in his hand slowly slid over his groin, feeling the glass button eyes cold against his aching erection. He pressed the pillow harder against himself, to brush away some of the burning pressure.

          /Cold... button eyes? Waitaminit!/

          Quatre blinked, momentarily disoriented in his explorations. Taking one deep breath to clear his thoughts, then another one to gather some courage to open his eyes, Quatre tried desperately to remember what had been on his bed. What he was holding against his crotch anyway. Had his boxers been adorned with buttons? Perhaps one of the pillows? Experimentally, he squeezed the tiny pillow in his hand. It felt remarkably like... felt. Quatre cracked an eye open to peer down his body. Sure enough, pressed to his groin was the Trowa plushie.

          /Oh crap.../

          Another nervous laugh could be heard in the dark room, then his body took control of his reactions, as Quatre found that the situation, if possible, made him even more turned on. This was such a forbidden thing to do, to desecrate the little Trowa doll in this manner. Pressing the plushie harder to his groin, Quatre gasped. It felt so good! Felt...

          /Oh my God, what am I doing?/

          Yet he couldn't stop. Moving the doll up and down his erection, Quatre's hands danced over the imitation of Trowa, trying to find the right grip to maximise the friction of the felt against his groin. Oh, it should have been Trowa, but the doll was remarkably convenient in his current Trowa-less situation.

          Quatre arched up into the touch of the cheap fabric against his tender parts, gasping at the little boots of the doll scratched him in entirely pleasurable ways. A moan escaped his now moist lips, any thoughts of keeping quiet to not wake the neighbours now long since gone. Quatre breathed harder, the doll pressed almost painfully against his aching groin.

          Worrying his lip with impatient teeth, Quatre didn't manage to suppress that rather guttural moan of ecstasy. Close, he was so close... He rubbed faster, but it wasn't enough to bring him the blessed release he sought. Frustrated, he snarled to no one in particular, tearing the doll away from his heated flesh.

          More friction was what he needed, but Quatre had no plans on using his own hands for the purpose. There was only one thing to do. Pinching the two little felt feet together, or if it was boots, Quatre wrapped the tiny legs of plushie Trowa harder around his erection, thus gaining the friction he so badly needed. It was a perfect fit. Quatre laughed a little in victory, as he continued his explorations.

          Pounding into the little plushie - or rather, in between the little legs of the plushie - Quatre lost himself in a haze of pleasure. He'd never imagined that sex with Trowa would feel this good. Stroke by stroke of felt against his throbbing desire pulled Quatre against that peak he'd often wished he'd reach with his green eyed lover. Pressing plushie Trowa tightly against himself one last time, Quatre exploded into the most powerful orgasm he'd experienced so far in his seventeen-year-old life.

          Panting, Quatre released the doll, and sagged against the sheets, spent. It took several minutes before he managed to drag himself into consciousness again, and only because of the wet and cold spot on his tummy. The wet spot that the plushie was now resting in. Uh-oh. Quatre leaned up on one elbow to survey the damage.

          The Trowa doll was, sadly enough, now mostly covered in Quatre's semen. He'd like to think it wasn't totally ruined, but all he managed to do was to smear the stuff out further, as he tried to wipe off some white stuff from one of the green button eyes. But what should he do with it?

          It wouldn't do to just dump it in the laundry basket, as his cleaning service would immediately know what those stains were. Not that they would tease him about it... they would more likely leak the story to the press, and then he'd never hear the end of it. /Winner heir takes felt plushie as forbidden lover,/ Quatre mused. And Trowa would find out, too. How utterly embarrassing. There was only one thing to do. He'd have to clean it himself.

          However, having never had to wash even one article of clothing in his entire life, Quatre was at a loss of what to do. The simple solution was to treat the plushie as if had really been Trowa. He poured some hot water into the bathtub, added that bubbly stuff, and plopped the doll into the concoction.

          As Quatre watched the doll gently float in the midst of the foaming mountains, he absently pondered the situation. He came as far as to washing off the already drying remnants of his ejaculation on his lower stomach with a soaked towel, before it finally dawned upon him what had done. He'd just had sex with a doll. Sex. As in S-E-X. Blushing furiously, Quatre came to the inevitable conclusion that he had just lost his virginity to a plush doll. A Trowa plush doll, even.

          "I'm pretty sure there's a special place in hell for perverts like me," Quatre stated solemnly, as he picked up the little doll. "Oh well, we're off to bed, Tro-chan," he added cheerfully, as he did not particularly want to think too much about the effects of his actions, either in this life or the next.

          Sauntering back to his bed again, wet plushie in his hand, Quatre once again felt as if Trowa was watching him through the eyes of the little clown doll. It was odd, that feeling. But maybe it was just guilt. Quatre purposefully ignored it, as he switched the light off to go to bed, again. Maybe he'd have better luck sleeping this time. Maybe he'd do it again tomorrow. His new-found lover, Plushie Trowa, smiled gently at him as Quatre fell asleep that night.

- end -