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"Bedayat Jadeda"Written By: The Plotting Housewife Disclaimer: Gundam Wing belongs to Bandai, Sotsu
and associated Parties. This work is written for pleasure not profit. Rating: NC 17 Warnings: Threesome - M/M/M, Drama, Angst, Humor,
Fluff, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Rimming, Oral Sex, D/s, Kinks, Daddy
Kink, Dirty Talk, Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Delay,
Top/Bottom Dynamics, Rough Sex, Feminization, consensual restraint,
Disability, Porn With Plot Pairings: 2x5x4 and many variations of. Summary: Sequel to Heartbreak Café. Quatre tries to settle into his new relationship with Duo and Wufei, learning the dynamics of polyamory while still trying to overcome the demons of his past. Duo and Wufei are determined to heal his pain and make him realize that he is worthy of everlasting love. Bedayat Jadeda, translated from Arabic to 'New Beginnings'.
" Bedayat Jadeda" There was something about aggressive caveman behavior that put Quatre into a state of mind reminiscent of the women he'd seen on the covers of his sisters' romance novels. The kind where they arched their backs, offering their bodies in a show of wanton submission to the handsome, muscular men who held them tenderly. 'Take me', their eyes seemed to say and when Quatre was brave enough to venture into the novels, the gallant heroes always did just that. He knew he was supposed to be like the men in those stories. Desiring power and strength and the beautiful woman of his dreams. He was supposed to want to be those men. Supposed to fantasize about ripping bodices and ravishing creamy soft feminine bodies. That's what his sisters thought he was imagining when he was caught gazing at the glossy artwork on the covers, or less frequently, delving inside for the juicy details. "Oh, Quatre," they would admonish. "Someday you'll find a beautiful girl to look after and protect, and yes, even make love to," they said as they took the books from his hands. "But you're still too young for such things." He didn't tell them that he'd been fantasizing about being the women in those novels. His desires centered around not ravishing, but being ravished by the big, strong heroes. Even at a young age, somehow he'd known he shouldn't say anything. That there was something inherently wrong with craving such things. Disturbed, he could only hope it was something he'd grow out of. Except, he didn't. Those desires only got stronger the closer he reached puberty. He'd gotten much better at not getting caught looking at the books and even stole a few, his guilty pleasure hidden in a tiny alcove behind the bookcase in his bedroom. When he knew it was safe, he took them out and devoured them over and over until they were worn and falling apart. Time and time again, he imagined himself being swept off his feet by a strapping knight, or a poor, but courageous peasant boy, and carried off to some enchanted forest, or a dusty stable where he was laid out on a bed of moss and stripped bare. His hero would look down at him with a heady mixture of loving tenderness and burning lust and Quatre would surrender himself for the taking, biting down on his lip and wrapping a trembling hand around himself as the erotic fantasies played out behind his fluttering eyelids. Meeting Trowa seemed like a dream come true. Especially while on the Peacemillion when he'd appeared at Quatre's door in the middle of the night after regaining his memories. One thing led to another, as they always say, and Quatre found himself giving up his virginity. It was all of his fantasies finally coming to fruition and he'd instantly fallen love with his own brave and beautiful hero. They established a relationship shortly after the second war and within six months, Trowa had moved in with him. He remained with the circus, required to go on long stints of travel for several months out of the year, but they found time to spend together during the breaks and they more than made up for lost time when the tour season was over. For three years, it had been nothing short of bliss. They knew each other inside and out and Quatre believed nothing could ever come between them. It was a love so strong, so unbreakable, nothing could ever destroy it. Their sexual relationship was incredible, even a little adventurous. Quatre loved being the recipient during intercourse which worked out well because Trowa preferred topping. During those private moments, Quatre learned to let go of all the misgivings and misinterpretations, the stigmas of being a man who loved to get fucked. With Trowa's love and support, it was easy to become comfortable with who and what he was. He discovered that wanting to be fucked, that being fucked had no bearing on a man's strength. Nor did it affect the prowess that he demonstrated outside of the bedroom. Shortly after their fourth anniversary, however, things began to turn sour. Trowa became more confrontational and distant, pulling away from Quatre with no explanation. The affection he'd had no problem expressing previously decreased to disturbing levels along with the frequency in which they were intimate. Quatre's sister, Adila, had told him it was simply the end of the 'honeymoon phase' and that it was the natural evolution of a long term relationship. So Quatre grinned and bore it, still trying his best to keep the romance alive despite his grueling work schedule. It was disappointing when Trowa began to turn away his advances with claims that he was tired, but Quatre tried to be understanding. Trowa's schedule was almost as harrowing as his own. Traveling with the circus six months out of every year, working his body to the bone with each performance, and dealing with jet lag on top of all that, it made sense that Trowa didn't always have the energy for lovemaking. At one point though, it became a little ridiculous after two months without sex. The endless hours of work, dealing with the exhausting tasks and responsibilities that come with running a large corporation, and a two month stretch of abstinence, Quatre was frustrated beyond his ability to be understanding. The hurried wanks and fingerings he gave himself during his showers were no longer cutting it and he was so desperate for a fucking, he nearly took Trowa's head off one Saturday morning when his lover asked him if he'd grabbed the paper. "No, I didn't grab the fucking paper, Trowa. You have legs. Go get it yourself." And that ultimately led to an emotionally draining fight that lasted the entire weekend. Quatre was at his wit's end by the end of it, crying brokenly into his pillow like an angst-ridden teenager. Trowa walked in later that night after Quatre had dozed off and apologized, which then led to a mind-blowing round of languid sex. Quatre wept again, this time from the pleasure of finally being touched where he needed it. His fingers were a poor substitute for his lover's cock. For a time, things were smoothed over, but unfortunately, it was only a temporary fix. Their sex life was reduced to somewhat short and emotionless fucking, at least on Trowa's end, once or twice a month. It seemed as though Trowa was just going through the motions, or doing it only to get his rocks off. Quatre was too busy being grateful that he was actually making love to him to dwell on the fact that his lover's heart didn't seem to be in it. Rather, he chose to ignore it because it was too painful to think about. Things came to a head again a year later when Quatre couldn't find his phone one morning. Late for work and in a rush, he used Trowa's to try to locate it. When he turned the screen on, he noticed that Trowa had several unread text messages from a woman named Miidi Une. Quatre vaguely remembered the name when Trowa had told him he'd run into an old childhood friend while he was grocery shopping and they'd had lunch. Quatre was fine with that, but after the last several months with Trowa increasingly pulling away from him and denying that there was anyone else in his life when Quatre grilled him about it, he was floored and devastated at the revelation that his lover was talking to this girl in secret. It inevitably led to an explosive fight when Quatre questioned him about it. Trowa was defensive, angry at Quatre for having the nerve to ask. That was what really drove home the reality that something else was going on with Trowa. It was the first time they attacked each other, emotionally and physically, wielding razor sharp words as weapons designed to hurt each other. Overcome with betrayal, Quatre shoved at the larger man, hitting him across the face, trying to inflict as much pain as he was feeling. He was knocked to the floor by a powerful backhanded slap, and sported a bruised cheek that he'd had to explain away to the people at work. Excuses flowed from his lips, the lies coming surprisingly easy. Adila was furious when she found out the real reason behind Quatre's injury, wanting to confront Trowa for hurting her brother. Quatre begged her, then shouted in anger and frustration over being treated like a child, insisting that he could fight his own battles. "I hit him first, Adila. I had it coming. Now will you let me handle my own problems?" "Fine, but if he ever touches you like that again, I'm going to kill him." Trowa had left for a few months after that fight, staying with Cathy, and while Quatre missed him, the old him, he was grateful for the reprieve and lack of tension between them, realizing they both needed a break. He just hoped they could work things out when he returned. For a time, it seemed they had. It got better for a while, but Quatre was despondent when the distant behavior crept back up. He didn't know what to do about it, or how to address it. He wondered if maybe they'd just gotten together far too young, not giving themselves enough time to recover from the war before launching headlong into a commitment neither of them had any experience with. The media didn't help matters. They constantly hounded Quatre, and by association, Trowa. That only added more obstacles for them to work their way around as Trowa didn't appreciate having their private business plastered all over every tabloid, especially with the intensely personal speculations about their sex life which crossed the line more often than not. When Quatre returned home on that fateful night and discovered Trowa was leaving him for good, he was so devastated, he drank himself into oblivion and spent the rest of the night lying in their bed, staring at the ceiling and occasionally blubbering into the ominous silence of the empty house. He'd completely forgotten his lunch date with Adila the following day and despite not wanting to go, he didn't have the energy to argue with his sister's bullheaded persistence. He went to the lunch and just when he'd thought his life couldn't get worse, he was struck by a taxi cab and laid in a coma for two weeks, waking only to find out that his legs were permanently damaged and disfigured. He often wondered now if there wasn't something to the whole fate thing. He'd never been one to subscribe to the idea that everything happened for a reason. That everyone had a predetermined path to follow, a divine destiny to reach. What seemed like the end of his life turned out to be the start of something new. What seemed like an endless sequence of bad luck turned out to be the catalyst for him to finally seize control of his own life. After nearly dying in that accident, he realized how important it was to do something that made him happy because life was simply too short and far too precious. He signed over the reigns of his father's company to his second oldest sister, moved to Venice Beach, California, and opened his own coffee shop. The endeavor was hugely successful and Quatre found himself a new lease on life. A reason to get up in the mornings. He loved what he did and where he lived, though the increased gravity of the earth took some time for his crippled legs to adjust to. After several months, he was excited to have Adila join him, running her Children of War foundation from her new office in Venice Beach. Quatre loved having her so close by and thoroughly enjoyed it when she helped out at his shop. He'd made new friends along the way and his life, while hectic, was much more bearable. The real twist had been eighteen months after he'd opened Heartbreak Café. He was floored when his old war comrades, fellow Gundam pilots, and friends came into his shop. It was the first time in four years that he'd seen them and he was over the moon by what he initially thought was an impromptu visit. He was blown away when he was subsequently taken out to dinner and then seduced. Fucked against his own couch while his head spun with ecstasy and Duo's strong concoction of Jack and Coke. When he woke up the following morning, with a cobwebbed, but much more sober mind, he thought he'd just made the worst mistake of his life and ruined the relationship of his best friends. Only he hadn't. He learned that they'd come to him with the intent of seduction and he was sure he'd stepped out of the real world and into a fantasy when they asked him to be a part of their relationship. He'd known nothing about polyamory at the time and didn't understand why they wanted to add him to the equation. After another mind-boggling round of sex, it seemed nothing could be better, or stranger, than finding out that they were looking for a bottom and that they'd found one in him. He left for work shortly after, his mind swimming with a strange mixture of arousal, confusion, and insecurity. It took a lecture from Adila and then another one from his employees to convince him it was something he should go for. What happened after he'd reached his decision could only be described as surreal.
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