Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, wish I did, just enjoy writing about 'em
for free etc
see part 1 for warnings
Summer Sweat +
The day had stretched to two...
"So hot," groaned Heero. He lay naked on the top of the bed covers. He
could feel a single drop of sweat trickling down his side. The fan was
whirring bravely, but the day was starting as steamy as before. "I can't
even bother with breakfast this morning. Does the damned weather go on
like this all the time out here?"
Trowa leant over and trailed a hand over his thigh, pleased by the answering
shudder he saw across his lover's stomach. He caught up Heero's hand,
and tugged it over to his groin - he wrapped the fingers around his growing
"Again?" murmured Heero. The word was plaintive, but Trowa saw the smirk
on his face that contradicted it. "More sex again? Only twice last
night... only an hour ago, when the sun came up...I'm pretty sore, Trowa."
Trowa snorted. "It's not only me who's insatiable, love. I've never known
you so responsive - so eager."
"So tasty -" mumbled Heero. He teased his hand up Trowa's cock, and trailed
a thin strand of pre-cum from his finger as he moved it away. He rolled
over on to his stomach; batted a lazy foot against the coverlet. Then
he slid his sticky finger into his mouth, and pursed his lips around it.
He looked up at Trowa through half-lidded eyes.
"Yeah," grinned Trowa. He felt his taste buds respond, a dampness in his
mouth. "You are very tasty -"
"Surprised you can find room for me, after your disgustingly enthusiastic
appetite for Wufei's cooking," protested Heero. He'd been amazed at how
much Trowa was eating, especially in this hot weather. And although they'd
apparently still got a coupla dollars left to pay for their board, Trowa
had started to go into the kitchen at meal times, to offer to help out.
Heero wondered idly how much a room cost here. Trowa didn't tell him -
and there was no tariff displayed anywhere. He'd not actually been presented
with a bill. Still, he knew that Trowa wouldn't let a debt go unpaid -
he was pretty retentive that way. It must have been settled up to date.
"It's good food," Trowa shrugged. He turned his face aside, because he
was suddenly afraid that Heero would see something that he didn't recognise.
The Presence stirred in the pit of his stomach, as if in anticipation.
As if in appreciation... "You know I like my food. He's some kinda genius
in creating such meals out of simple ingredients...don't you love the
Heero shrugged. It was food, that was all. He thought he'd go help Quatre
today, in the yard. He never told Trowa, but since their fight, he had
been avoiding the blond. He spent as little time as necessary in the dining
room - he took himself out to the courtyard whenever he could, and sat
quietly by himself, reading or sketching idly on the back of discarded
papers. Luckily, no-one else ever seemed to go there.
This wasn't just to keep Trowa happy, though... there was more to it than
that. But he was getting bored of the solitude, now. There was only so
much time you could spend reading old newspapers and torn paperbacks,
wasn't there? Oh, and fucking on an extremely regular basis, of course.
"The bathroom has been stocked again," said Heero. He hitched himself
up on to one arm, the muscles of his chest tightening across his torso.
"There's a new massage oil... smells like raspberries."
Trowa felt his mouth go moist at the thought. They were his favourite
fruit! The sharp tangy sweetness - the vicious little pips, just looking
to spike his tongue as he ate. The burst of luscious taste in his mouth
as he bit into one -
"Gonna try it..." he whispered. His hand ran up Heero's outside leg, then
rolled into the valley of his inner thighs. Heero's knees slid apart almost
instinctively, and there was a jerk of the nerves in his cock, trapped
under his prone body.
"Might as well..." Heero whispered back. He rolled up on to his side,
and turned his head to the chestnut-haired man. Their mouths met like
well practised partners now.
"All over you," groaned Trowa, swiping his tongue across Heero's lower
lip. Savouring the early morning saliva there, still relatively cool against
the sweat of his own flesh. "I'm gonna smooth it all over your skin -"
"And inside," hissed Heero. "Take it up inside me, Trow. The lube's all
gone - we can use whatever else we find. Take your fingers up there, and
massage me from the inside out..."
He rolled back on to his back, as Trowa stumbled eagerly off the bed to
fetch the oil.
Heero gazed lazily up at the fan, blinking its shadow across the ceiling,
still only a pale discolouring of dark in the rapidly rising sun. Its
tentacles flipped across his naked body, in a slow, hypnotic sprawl.
He wondered at the mirror tiles around it - they were too cracked and
marked for him to see much. To watch, perhaps, him and Trowa fucking.
He thought - with an extra frisson of excitement - that he might like
that. As it was, all he could see were his dark blue eyes, glinting back
at him, and the distorted smudge of his nude skin.
He wondered when the delivery guy was gonna turn up - the damned motel
never seemed to get short of anything it needed. There was always food
at meal times; clean sheets and towels. Another book, when he'd just got
bored with the previous one. Plenty of toiletries - he thought about the
raspberry oil. It was a seductive thought.
Hold that thought close...came the voice. He was used to it now.
He would listen to it, or ignore it, as he wished. It was especially persistent
when he was in the courtyard - but he was also most in control of it there.
He didn't know if hearing it meant he were going mad, or if it were the
heat. Or whatever. This damned place...
Trowa was back, spreading himself and the oil all over Heero's body; a
greedy Trowa; an assertive Trowa. A masterful one.
Or so he thought, smiled Heero. He welcomed his lover into his arms, and
into his body with his usual fierce thrusts. He'd think about it all later
Trowa walked into the kitchen, seeing the familiar equipment, smelling
the familiar aromas of spices and herbs. At breakfast time, there was
hot oil and bubbling mushrooms and tomatoes, and fried bread to add to
the mix. He'd helped at several of the meals over the last couple of days,
as well as clearing and washing up - he'd found a surprising pleasure
in cooking, then enjoying what he'd created. He still felt disturbed around
Wufei - but he rather suspected that he also found a surprising pleasure
in that as well. He was dreadfully confused; he was almost scared of the
strong, sensual man; but he kept returning. He didn't tell Heero anything
about his feelings.
It was a strange, guilty thing that he held to himself. A consuming thing.
A thing that flowed within him; both driven and dragged through by the
Wufei was there this morning - of course. He always was, though Trowa
varied his arrival time, and supposed that Wufei must have other duties
elsewhere on the site. Trowa wasn't puzzled by it anymore. He'd also stopped
asking when the delivery man would arrive, as he never got a satisfactory
answer. Or any answer at all, really.
Wufei looked up, and his eyes fell briefly to Trowa's clothes. To his
lower body. Trowa flushed. He wore a thin vest, and a pair of Heero's
shorts - he had none of his own, except for old sports shorts, and he'd
been glad to leave them behind with his old, child's life. Heero was a
smaller size than he was, but these had a drawstring waist, and did well
enough for Trowa. It was too hot for pants, he'd argued, back in the room.
Heero had shrugged, and agreed.
It was too hot for anything, really, thought Trowa. When he pulled his
clothes on of a morning - and sometimes during the day, after a session
in the room with Heero - they felt awkward. They chafed; they had an alien
roughness to them. Did he want to go around naked? he joked to himself.
Though the laugh was weak.
He stared back at Wufei, and was shocked to see an amused flicker in the
other man's dark eyes that suggested he knew exactly what Trowa was thinking.
"Your breakfast is ready," Wufei said, in that low, smooth voice. He also
had a sleeveless, white vest on this morning, and the usual light, loose
pants. They clung around his hips, faintly damp from the growing steaminess
in the kitchen. Trowa could see the muscle-swelled definition of his thighs.
There was only one plate ready on the counter.
"Heero..." started Trowa.
"He won't be eating this morning," replied Wufei, as if Trowa wasn't grasping
for the right words.
"Ah... no, he won't." How did Wufei know? He eyed the food hungrily -
God, his appetite never ceased to amaze him at the moment! "I'll eat in
the dining room -"
"You'll eat here," stated Wufei. "Sit. I'll bring it to you."
Trowa was too astonished to argue. Wufei brought the breakfast each morning
- but never just to Trowa. Never in the kitchen. There were a couple of
stools at the corner of the room, set against a clear area of the counter.
Trowa stepped back hesitantly, and hitched himself up on to one. Wufei
put the plate down in front of him. It was still hot - delivery timed
Wufei leant back against the counter and watched him eat. His eyes held
Trowa's for a second, then dipped to his mouth. Trowa blushed a little
under the scrutiny. What was he staring at? he thought. The food slipping
into his mouth, forkful after forkful. The movement of his jaw; the drop
of pink moisture on his lips from tomatoes. A fleck of some seasoning
on his teeth...
Wufei licked his lips. Slowly. Deliberately. There was a small boxed container
beside him on the worktop, and his fingers toyed with it. Trowa assumed
it held some food of some kind; there were air holes in the cardboard.
Wufei flipped the lid open, and dipped his hand in. His eyes were still
on Trowa's mouth. He lifted his fingers out, holding something close within
"Take this. It's for you."
"No, thanks," Trowa said. His voice was hoarse. He didn't know what he
was accepting. He had a feeling it would be more than just the contents
of Wufei's hand.
"Take it," said Wufei. "You want to."
At the last minute, as Trowa lifted his hand to take whatever it was,
Wufei batted him away. Then he leant forward, and pressed his own fingers
against Trowa's lips, forcibly enough so that Trowa had to open his mouth,
and accept what he held. He felt a cool, sweet freshness on his tongue.
A fruity softness - followed by the tang of a seed or two. A dribble of
pale pink liquid ran down his chin.
"Raspberry -?" he whispered, astonished. The flavour was in his mouth,
the aroma in his nostrils; filling his senses.
Wufei smiled. Yet again, it seemed he knew exactly what Trowa was thinking.
His hand moved swiftly, and his fingertips brushed away the wetness on
Trowa's skin. Trowa was vibrantly aware of the dampness of his palm.
Trowa rolled the plump fruit to the back of his mouth and swallowed. He
realised suddenly how close Wufei's face was to his. The man had leaned
forward, hands bracing himself on the counter. Either side of Trowa -
effectively trapping him there.
Trowa saw, through a haze, the same dark pink stains on Wufei's lips.
His thick, bold lips. They were very close to his own...he smelled the
raspberry flavour, and he sighed.
It could have been taken as some kind of a surrender.
Heero brushed back the hair from his forehead, and coughed out some dust.
He and Quatre had fixed up several metres of broken fencing round the
back of the building, and the door of the small storage unit abutting
the kitchen wall. Now he was stacking up some spare planks inside the
store room, ready for any future need. He was going to be finished soon.
He stretched his back up, with a small groan. It hadn't been exhausting
work by any means, but the heat was mounting steadily, and he hadn't realised
how tired he was.
He looked over at Quatre, rolling up a length of twine that they'd used.
He marvelled at the boy - who'd have thought he was the type to set to
physical labour? But he'd worked as hard as Heero, and shown a steady-handedness
and commonsense in the work.
Heero admitted that there'd been some truth in Trowa's accusations. He
knew that he found Quatre hot - he was fascinated by the blond's brashness;
by his easy sensuality. He'd fought his own for so long - it was astonishing
to find someone who was so comfortable with theirs. Even here, in the
middle of the yard, Quatre wore nothing but the brief shorts. His chest
was pinking slightly in the sun's rays; it made the skin shine. His slim
legs bent easily to his task, and there were creditable muscles showing
under the pale, soft flesh. He'd flipped open the top button of the shorts,
and there was a shallow pool of sweat in his exposed navel. It made Heero
feel rather warm in his groin whenever he caught sight of it. The boy
was attractive in the way that sin was; he asked to be caressed; he begged
without words to be fucked. Heero marvelled how someone could be built
And he was sure that Quatre was aware of his effect on him. Dammit, he
was playing to it! He'd raised a single eyebrow when Heero came to offer
help this morning. Then smiled, and shown him what was needed. With exceptional
care. He pointed out the wood, with a steadying hand on Heero's
elbow. He fetched tools down from the wall by stretching across Heero's
chest, brushing at his body. He showed Heero the storage in the narrow
unit, then turned so suddenly that they were pressed up together for a
few seconds. Enough time for Heero to feel the swelling in the blond boy's
shorts, uncomfortably confined between his legs.
Yeah, Heero knew that Quatre wanted him. A few months ago, he would either
have denied such an awareness, or been deeply embarrassed by it. He hadn't
seen himself as much of a sexual being. And now look at him! Something
had been unleashed when he met Trowa - something that burned, and something
that thrilled. Something that nagged at his sleep, and encouraged him
to roll into bed with Trowa at every waking opportunity. Or was that only
since they arrived here?
And what about him and Trowa? He was struggling with it all. During
the flight from home, and the frenzied journey - that had been all he
needed to concentrate on. To get away from the persecution - to be alone
with the man he wanted. The man that he thought he might love... But then
they had stalled here - the situation had changed. Now he was learning
another relationship, and it was too new for him to know how he should
be. And he didn't think that Trowa knew any more than he. The sex was
hot - yeah, it was very hot! - but, then, what did either of them
know about it, apart from each other? When that was done, he thought that
they were already drifting - they were finding some difficulty in conversation
outside of bed. Trowa mystified him - his tension. His sudden secrecy,
and strange reactions. His need to be in control.
Heero knew that control meant a little more than just who was seme. Heero
thought that he was learning a damned sight more since he left home than
he'd ever learnt before.
Quatre was calling to him; lifting a hand to his eyes, shielding them
from the sky. The shadow was dark across his face and neck - his sweat-damp
blond hair was painful on the eyes where the sun struck it.
Heero remembered the lobby, on the day they arrived; Quatre's unfocussed
eyes; his panting breath, as Wufei slipped long, strong fingers up inside
him. And caressed him with them...
Heero knew what that felt like. He knew how he could be stimulated from
within. How he could be brought to a gasping, sobbing climax.
But he wondered now how it would feel to reciprocate.
He wondered what it was, to be seme. To take someone - to enter their
ass, and plunge in and out, your cock sheathed in a tight, warm channel,
so much firmer and more responsive than a hand. He wished that Trowa would
A sigh reverberated in his head. He dismissed it, instinctively. But he
didn't think it had taken any notice of him. It liked these thoughts in
his head - it liked listening to the naked needs; the dark desires; the
desperate dreams. It wanted to play amongst them, he knew. But he didn't
dare let it - not yet.
He sighed. And always the desire, hot in his belly. What was with this
Quatre turned his blond, dusty head up, and gazed at Heero. It was a blatantly
sexual, hungry look; his eyes lingered at Heero's crotch, then trailed
up to his nude chest - his vest top had also been long abandoned. With
a sigh, Quatre let his arm fall back to his chest; he stroked the skin,
almost aimlessly. Ran a nail down between his nipples, and watched whether
Heero's eyes followed it. Then he walked over to where Heero stood. A
trail of sweat trickled down Heero's face, running on down into the hollow
at the base of his neck. Quatre reached out, and flicked the trail away
softly with his finger. He lifted the damp digit, and holding Heero's
gaze, he sucked it into his mouth, right up to the knuckle.
"Tastes good," he said, softly. "I bet all of you tastes good. Real
"Quatre... persisted Heero. Heero knew he was dirty and sweaty, and he
also knew without a doubt that Quatre would be happy to take him that
way. That wasn't what this was about. He also knew he was aroused - he
somehow took this as read, nowadays. He noted Quatre's greedy gaze, seeking
out the bulge under his shorts. But he wasn't going to be doing anything
about it at the moment. There were some answers that he sought.
"What about the pool, Quatre? In that charming little courtyard. Why don't
we fix that up, instead of these old fences, out back? It'd be a great
facility, especially in the summer. And do up some of the rooms...Why
do you let this place get so seedy?"
"The pool?" Quatre's expression shifted. It was more than a little sly.
"The pool is fine as it is..."
"What do the guests say about the motel?" Heero pressed on. "The other
guests? Where are they, Quatre? What sorta place are you running here,
"Questions..." sighed Quatre. He gave an exaggerated shrug. "The other
guests have moved on, Heero. They always do. And Maxwell runs the place,
not me. I just..." for a moment, his mouth twisted in a greedy smile.
"I just take orders."
Heero despaired of him. There were too many odd things here. Too many
mysteries. Too much damned heat, too much damned sex... "How did you
get here, Quatre? To this motel. And why are you still here?"
The blond flushed. But he answered quite smoothly and, it seemed, sincerely.
"Nowhere else to go, Heero. I had plenty of guys wanted to know me at
home - plenty of 'em got to know me well, y'know? I was good at
what I did - and I didn't cost 'em anything but a few drinks and sometimes
a hit. Everyone enjoyed it." He looked almost proud of himself. Heero
realised with a slight shock that he must have been a whore of some kind.
Whether officially, or just known as such around his home town. He looked
at the boyish, gamine looks, and the sexuality oozing out of his every
exaggerated move, and he saw how that might be. He wondered what it would
be like to buy Quatre a drink and have him bend over for him.
Christ! he thought.
Quatre was watching his expression carefully. "Then they got jealous,
didn't they? The women - the wives. Didn't want their guys sticking
it up any ass but their own. When they were the ones rationing it out
in the first place, driving the guys mad! Anyway, they threw me out. Dumped
me with barely a bus fare and a jacket and fuck all else. Worked my ass
through the state until I got here. And then Maxwell took care of me."
He smiled - a broad, almost childlike grin. Heero wondered what age he
really was. "I was damned good, Heero! I could do it all, and they all
wanted me. Everyone knew me...I was like a celebrity, y'know? You don't
forget that easily..."
Quatre's face darkened suddenly, and his whole body language turned from
pride to shame. Heero saw his lungs suck in a sharp breath; his arms fold
protectively across his chest. "Hey, that's something else. He was messed
up when he came here. He was running away from it all. He wanted
to forget... but Maxwell took care of him as well."
"What did he do? What was he running from?"
Quatre hesitated. "It was a mistake, OK? He never meant to hurt the guy!
There was some fight - something about stealing some of Wufei's stuff.
He just hit out - and the other guy's skull was cracked. I mean - he's
not a dangerous guy, y'know? Just - a mistake..."
He saw Heero's horrified expression. He shrugged. "Everyone has secrets,
Heero. Everyone runs from something or other. It's just that we've found
a sanctuary here. With Maxwell."
"But who the fuck is Maxwell?" growled Heero. The heat was nagging
at his head again - his neck ached; his limbs were weary. Everything confused
him... and the voice chuckled at him.
And then Quatre leaned in to him, and placed his sweaty palm against his
chest. He spoke into his ear - very close, very breathlessly. "He's the
voice, isn't he, Heero? He directs us - he owns us. We want him. And so
we hear him as a voice..."
Heero stared. Speechless.
They were standing quite close to the wall of the building now. And suddenly
he saw Quatre's attention waver, just for a second. His head jerked slightly
towards the motel. As if he heard someone calling him. But there was no
other sound out here, except for the bushes crackling in the sun's heat;
the occasional bird calling. He watched, fascinated, as Quatre took his
hand from his chest, and stretched it out towards the wall - touched his
fingertips to it. His eyes closed for a second, and his cheeks flushed
Then Quatre exhaled, deeply. And turned back to Heero. The smile was back
on his face, though his eyes were a little misty.
He placed a hand on Heero's arm. "We can rest now, OK? Let me relax you,
Heero - you've worked hard. Let me clean you up..." His tongue slipped
out of his mouth, and ran smoothly around his full lips. Heero imagined,
wildly, the effect of that tongue on his sweaty body - like a cat, a little
rough, licking at the skin; nipping at his nipple; sipping at his tired,
stretched skin. Cleaning all the grime and the aches away...
But Heero had heard the voice again, and suddenly he knew that it had
reached for Quatre as well. There was a light in both their eyes that
knew a familiar call. They were together in this. It played with both
And he had felt it, too. The sudden surge of sensuality in the
air. How else could he explain this wave of lust that was threatening
to consume him? He shook it off with difficulty - shook off the desperate
desire to push Quatre to the dusty ground and wrench off his ridiculous
shorts, and suck on his swollen dick until he screamed for completion
Where had that obscenity come from? And - more critically - where was
it taking him?
In the kitchen, Trowa was bent back over the counter, hands pressing against
Wufei's strong shoulders, his mouth filled with the other man's thick,
probing tongue. He groaned - he protested; but despite it all, he sucked
eagerly and willingly. Again and again, the taller man thrust into his
mouth, in a parody of fucking. His teeth nipped at Trowa's lip, breaking
a small bead of blood from it. And Trowa gasped, and let the invasion
continue. He felt his groin tighten under the inadequate shorts - when
Wufei reached for the waist, he welcomed the warm hand sliding inside.
He didn't know which he wanted more - Wufei to touch his cock, or Wufei
to caress his ass.
He wondered how the hell a single raspberry could have caused such agonising
need in him!
"He's with us both, now, Trowa," hissed Wufei, in his ear. "Maxwell will
have us both, to do his will..." His teeth were at Trowa's neck now, scraping
shallowly, as if he played at vampires. It sent a shudder through Trowa's
body that he couldn't have hidden if his life depended on it. The hand
was inside his shorts, and it was down the front of his boxers, and his
flesh throbbed and strained to be grasped.
"Do it -" he groaned, not even knowing what he asked for. His back
pressed painfully against the edge of the worktop; his hips were crushed
against the wooden door. He felt a cup slide away from under him and fall
to the floor with a crash.
"No, not yet!" murmured Wufei. "You like to control it all, Trowa.
But that's not going to happen, is it?"
"Wha -?" Trowa's head was spinning. He reached, wildly, his hands aching
and not knowing what to hold. The counter, to steady himself - or Wufei,
to bring him closer.
"You can only tease for so long. Finally you must ask for what you want.
And then you can receive it. I was reluctant once, you know. I didn't
want it to reach inside me - to saturate me like it does. You know how
that feels, don't you, Trowa?"
"Yes..." he whispered, horrified in amongst his desire. Wufei meant the
Presence, he knew. It was coiled inside him - it teased at his reactions
- at his very nerves. It laughed, and it scorned, and it drew him wherever
it wanted. And just now, that was into a pulsating block of craving flesh
- and up close to Wufei's magnificent body.
He broke away. He didn't want to - and yet he did. He was panting, heavily.
Wufei stared, his pupils dilated; then raising his hands in a sign of
appeasement, he stepped just one pace away from him. It wasn't even a
gesture - Trowa knew how easily this man could overpower him if he wanted.
Or if he wanted.
But Wufei was still. And so was his calm smile. "No, dark one... you must
learn to lose yourself in it! You must learn the joy of being victim as
well as victor. That's what Maxwell taught me. He made it the most glorious
thing for me." He began to move steadily back towards Trowa, smiling,
smiling. His eyes flared with something that Trowa feared was reflected
from his own expression.
Trowa snatched up a knife, a thick-bladed kitchen one. He had no idea
what he was going to do with it. He just wanted one last chance to gather
his thoughts - to state his case - to direct this whole mad situation
Wufei's eyes narrowed; his head shook slowly. He answered, though Trowa
had no notion of having spoken aloud. "No-one directs but Maxwell, Trowa.
You know that, though, don't you?" His arm moved out, as if in slow motion,
and he plucked the knife from Trowa's hand as easily as a thread of cotton
on his sleeve. Then he moved the strong body more gracefully than Trowa
would ever have imagined; he gripped Trowa's arm, he twisted him round
against his chest, and his own arm clamped tightly against the chestnut-haired
And the knife was now in his hand.
It looked far more at home in Wufei's large, strong hand. He flexed his
wrist slightly; he held it almost loosely. And it remained a few inches
away from Trowa's throat, which was throbbing now with shock. But he held
Trowa completely immobile; his elbow pressed painfully on the young man's
shoulder; the muscles of his chest tight against his back.
Trowa was helpless. He realised he'd never known what fear really was.
A trite phrase - but now a terrifyingly reality.
Wufei's breath was hot on his ear. Trowa bent his head slightly to the
side, but then the breath was on his neck, and to his horror, he felt
a stimulation; a stirring in his groin. Wufei laughed softly.
"A victim, Trowa....How does it feel? Does it thrill you? Does
it scare you? Look at yourself, Trowa! Your cock is harder than ever,
and yet you don't know quite how I will react. You want my food, and my
body, and you want - desperately - to surrender to the Presence
"No..." whispered Trowa.
"Yes!" hissed Wufei. "I have you, now - you're powerless. I could
take you. I could take whatever you have, and then some. You should be
fearful of that. And yet your mind is open to it - your body wonders what
it would be like. Do you wonder what it's like to be taken, Trowa? Like
you take him? Fast, and hard? With your heart beating so
fast it may burst out of you, and your cock thick and slick with pre-cum,
and your balls aching, as tight as they are with need. But then there
are hands gripping your hips, so fierce that they leave bruises.
Spreading your legs; prising open the cheeks of your ass. And you're filled
with a thrusting cock that's even harder, and even faster, and it's tight
up inside your barely stretched ass, and someone's balls are banging up
close to your buttocks, as you're nailed harder than you've ever nailed
anyone else before -"
"God..." whispered Trowa. His face had paled beyond white.
"Imagine it happening to you! You've never been fucked, have you?
A hot cock up your ass - another man's hands on your shoulders, holding
you down to take him in. All of it! But you want it - badly. Everything
about you cries out for it."
"No - you don't know -" gasped Trowa.
"You want me to do it," Wufei hissed. "So ask me! Whatever you want...
I will do it for you. I will do it to you -! But you must ask..."
Trowa knew that people said there was always one moment of decision -
one action, when the choice arose, that would take you down a particular
path. He knew he was at that moment. He felt the cold breath of the knife,
and the hot pressure of Wufei's erection against his ass. He felt the
Presence in his gut, and he let it curl around his thundering heart. He
had one brief, flickering moment of thought about Heero, and then that
"It's not for me to control you, Trowa," murmured Wufei. The muscles of
his shoulders relaxed around the other man's neck, and he lifted his arm
away. Gently, he placed the knife down on the top beside them. He turned
the rigid man around in his arms, and bent to lick at his lips; at his
neck. He felt Trowa shiver underneath him. "Not yet. First it must be
your desire - your request. For now, I'm at your command."
"Maxwell... he's here?" gasped Trowa. The tongue was soft, it was consoling,
it was thawing his fear and his shock, and lighting small flames at the
base of his desire again.
"Maxwell is always here," laughed Wufei, softly.
They stared at each other.
"Suck me," sighed Trowa, in a voice that broke on each word. "That's what
"Where is Maxwell?" cried Heero. He grabbed at Quatre, but the
boy wasn't perturbed. "What sort of twisted fuck is he? What's
he doing to you all?"
"Not just us," whispered Quatre. He gazed at Heero's mouth - at the mobile
lips, working around the angry words. "He does it to everyone... and they
all enjoy it..."
"Christ!" exploded Heero. He wanted to slap this stupid bastard - he wanted
to squeeze bruises into the babyish flesh of his arms - he wanted to force
his lips down on him, and thrust his tongue into his mouth -
Instead, he let go of Quatre's arms, and stepped back.
Quatre looked shocked at his reaction. As if he hadn't expected such self-control.
"You chose to come here, Heero, didn't you? Don't resist it. Don't resist
me. Don't resist him..."
"No - it wasn't choice -" stuttered Heero. "What are you talking
"You ran." Quatre's voice was calm and very soft. And smug. "You
ran, because you wanted something you couldn't get at home. You ran, and
Duo Maxwell heard your steps. Heard your cries, and your pain, and your
loneliness. And he led you here. Whatever you want, Heero, you can find
it here. Duo will get you anything you want..."
Wufei dropped to his knees on the tiled floor of the kitchen, one arm
around Trowa's legs, the other tugging at his shorts. Trowa let them be
pulled to his ankles, and the boxers followed. He tried to wriggle them
off his feet, but Wufei's hands were already at his hips, so he leaned
back, his surrender all the more complete with his feet hobbled together.
The hands were warm and wide, and the pads of the palms caressed the smooth,
protected flesh of his inner thighs. He let his knees sag a little, clutching
the worktop with his hands, struggling to keep himself upright and awake
for what was going to happen to him. The hands were sliding behind, to
massage at his cheeks - to run a teasing finger up and down his crack.
They caressed his flesh, and then he felt the hot breath at his groin,
and the flickering tip of a tongue on his rearing cock.
Wufei's mouth engulfed him.
He moaned. It was incredible! It was so different from Heero's attentions,
but he couldn't have explained why. Perhaps just because it was different...
He ripped at his vest, pulling it up over his head, his hair getting tangled
in the cloth. He flung it aside - he had no idea where it went. His hips
were inches from Wufei's face, and it was taking all his efforts not to
jerk them back and slam forward, begging to fuck his mouth with his cock.
He looked down on the dark head, moving firmly back and forth; he heard
the lapping, liquid noises, as he was washed with hot saliva and his own
Then Wufei's hands slid back behind him, and gripped at his ass. The sucking
paused - the tongue stilled on his flesh-red, aching shaft.
Trowa gasped with frustrated agony. He heard his vicious panting, harsh
in the silent kitchen. His hand wavered over Wufei's head - he had to
Wufei slid his cock out, to rest on his bottom lip, and lifted his eyes
up to gaze at him. He was panting, too, but Trowa knew that he was far
from exhausted. His dark eyes were dilated; they were greedy for more
of him. It was the most erotic thing Trowa had ever seen. "He does this
to you, doesn't he, Trowa? Your lover...? Does he suck you in like this?
Does he suck you in as deep as this?"
- and he pulled Trowa's body forward.
Trowa felt his cock slide back in, deeper than he'd have thought possible
- so deep, that his balls rested against Wufei's chin. So deep that the
hairs on his groin must have tickled up into Wufei's nose. So deep that
when he thrust, he could feel the back of Wufei's tongue, and the tip
of that tongue was licking hungrily at the base of him, hot on the wrinkled
"Fuck!" he gasped. So this is what it was to be deep-throated!
"Yes," sighed Wufei. The word was muffled; it reverberated around Trowa's
cock. "You can have that as well if you want. When you want. Just let
me fuck you with my mouth now..."
And he did. That's what it really feels like! thought Trowa, in a daze
of ecstasy, fighting the waves of climax that swamped him, then receded
- then threatened again. His hips slammed against the man's chin - he
plunged into the hot, wet mouth, again and again, and he could think of
nothing he'd ever felt to compare with it. Not Heero's mouth; not Heero's
"Have you ever had it so good, Trowa? Has anything ever felt so marvellous?"
Trowa heard the words in Wufei's voice - but he wasn't sure that he'd
spoken them. Surely his mouth was too busy, caressing his cock - sliding
the skin up against his teeth, then down again to slither against his
lips, slippery with saliva. His fingers were between Trowa's cheeks, and
for a horrified, terrified, ecstatic second, Trowa thought he felt the
tip of a long, strong finger dip into the tight pucker of his hole...
"No...." whimpered Trowa. Nothing ever had felt so good!
He wanted to release it all now - he wanted to come. But he was scared
that the pain would be too great - the passion would overwhelm him - "Never..."
"Thank Maxwell for that, Trowa," sighed Wufei's mouth. "Come, now." One
last, deep lick across the over-sensitive slit, and Trowa almost screamed
with his obedient response. He bucked against the kneeling man - he clutched
at his hair, not caring if he hurt him. The nerves fled from every limb
and into the one concentrated point of his cock, as it leapt against Wufei's
lips, spewing its creamy contents into him. Trowa's whole body shook -
he watched through blurred eyes, fascinated at the delight with which
Wufei licked it all in; drinking it; savouring it.
He slumped back against the counter, pain in his chest from the tension.
His cock still throbbed.
Wufei stood slowly, stretching his bent limbs; flexing the superb muscles.
"Thank Maxwell," he murmured, again. His mouth came to Trowa's limp lips
- his tongue thrust in, swiping drops of cum against Trowa's own tongue,
insisting that he taste it. Then he pulled back. He looked up and down
Trowa's naked body with appreciation. He stroked slowly at the front of
his pants - the bulge inside was large, and looked like it might be impatient.
But with a smile on his face, he started to back out of the kitchen.
"The courtyard, tonight, Trowa. Tonight..."
Then Trowa's muscles abandoned him, and he slid slowly down to sit awkwardly
on the floor.
Heero stood in the sweltering, disorientating sun of the yard, and felt
his feet move under him - they turned him away from Quatre's astonishing
words. Away from the seductive speaker.
"I'd be good!" He heard Quatre's plaintive cry, behind him. "You should
take me! That's what you want, Heero. Who are you saving yourself
for? That companion of yours?"
Heero was walking away. He knew he had to get away. He knew what Quatre
might say next.
"You're not to be his, Heero," hissed the boy. "Where do you think he
is now? He's not with you - because you can't give him everything he wants.
And you - well, you know he's not the true one, don't you? Not
Heero didn't trust himself to do or say anything else. The relative cool
of the courtyard called to him, and he knew it was the one place in this
lunatic motel that he felt at all at peace.
He let the voice soothe him as his unsteady steps turned into a full and
frantic running - for it drowned out Quatre's words.
[part 4] [part 6] [back
to Fancy Figures' fic]