Author: FancyFigures
Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, wish I did, just enjoy writing about 'em for free etc
see part 1 for warnings

Sweet Summer Sweat + Part 6

The evening sun was low, and its heat was a sultry one now.

Quatre lay naked in Duo Maxwell's lap, and suckled gently at his inner thigh. They may have been in one of the rooms - they may have been somewhere else. It wasn't obvious whether they had just finished sex, or were contemplating it. But they were content within their own world. Both bodies were flushed with excitement, and each of them teased softly at the other one's half-erect cock. Quatre's skin shone white and pink against Duo's darker tone; his vivid blue eyes much paler than the braided man's deep sapphire orbs. Duo's long braid hung over his shoulder, stray strands of it moving in the slight breeze of a fan, stimulating Quatre's small, pale nut-brown nipple. They were a gorgeous contrast.

"It was a good day," sighed Duo. It was obviously, in its way, an appraisal of the blond boy. "You served me well, Quatre."

Quatre moaned with pleasure. "The dark one is very pliant, Duo. Wufei enjoys him a lot. But the sweet one..." he sighed, theatrically. "Now, he is a very different matter."

"But he also cares for his companion - they both came to me with that open in their hearts. It has made them most deliciously vulnerable to me. The sweet one - well, he thinks he might love the dark one. But his passion is confusing him. Such passion!" said Duo, in his low, vibrant voice. There was a strong thread of excitement in it. "He knows so little of it yet..."

"What shall we do, Maxwell?"

Duo stroked at Quatre's hair aimlessly. He began to slide his hand up and down the blond boy's shaft more firmly; watching his widening eyes as he did so. When Quatre gave one of his trademark whimpers, Duo Maxwell smiled with satisfaction.

"Bring the dark one to me. Let him discover himself - let him liberate himself. And then he will bring the other one to me, in turn."

Quatre was panting. His hands had slipped away from Duo's body, and they sought the satisfaction of his own. He teased at his left nipple, pinching it to a painful erection. He sucked on the fingers of his right hand, lathering them with saliva, and then reached down to squeeze his own balls. And to slide a couple of the fingers up into himself, begging for his own pleasure...

Duo laughed softly. He watched the boy writhe in his lap, legs wide and straining, finger fucking himself, as he continued to pump him towards climax. "You are beautiful, Quatre! I know why they loved you... I know why they fucked you in preference to their wives..."

Quatre flushed with a pleasure that was so much more than sexual. "You've always understood, Duo..." he hissed. "Saved my precious memories for me... Let me help you - let me please you -"

But Duo shook his head. Perhaps he was saving himself. "Bring me the dark one, and the sweet one will follow."

"And if he doesn't?" gasped Quatre. He didn't intend to question Maxwell, who owned his whole existence. He just wanted this ecstasy to continue forever, and for that he needed to distract Maxwell and his devastatingly proficient hands.

Duo frowned slightly. "He will. Eventually."

He pumped fiercely - as if he had tired of the game, and wanted a speedy conclusion. He withdrew his hand just as Quatre's cock jumped inside his fist, the boy shrieked, and the warm, glutinous cum burst out over his naked thighs.

"He must," mused Duo, aloud. He seemed to have little attention left for the limp boy beneath him, now. "He must."


Trowa woke in the dark of the night. He reached automatically for Heero - but the other man wasn't there in bed beside him. Where was he? He hadn't seen him since he stumbled back to the room in the morning. He had slept, then - slept for hours. He'd woken, found food in the deserted kitchen, and then taken himself back to bed again.

Such fantastic sex - such satisfying sleep! He'd known nothing of either until now.

His body felt soft - hot - there were gentle little creases across his naked thighs from the crumpled sheet underneath him. The fan limped above him, erratically, as always. He felt as if he'd been here for months; for ever. The slightest breeze stroked his bare chest. His muscles were sore, and a little cramped - his palms hurt from his grip on the kitchen counter earlier.

The memories flushed his face. Memories of burying himself in Wufei's mouth. Memories of ecstasy, and unbearable excitement - and guilt. He'd not thought of what Heero would think, not once - and, perhaps even worse, he had compared it to Heero's performance. And found the two experiences as far apart as the dry Earth and the hot sun.

Where was Heero? his mind nagged him. How many places could a guy hide at this godforsaken motel?

He's here...sighed a secret voice. But you must look after yourself now. Until he understands...

Trowa looked round, shocked. He was dreaming, right? He didn't hear voices; nor did he smell strange fragrances. That was Heero's idiosyncrasy. He was the practical one...they depended on him.

He saw a shadow at the dusty window - what may have been a dark head passing by.

The courtyard...Wufei had said. He had offered more - whatever Trowa wanted. From him.

Trowa sat up abruptly, reaching for his shorts.

He left the room with indecent haste.


The courtyard was an empty, quiet space. Perhaps Heero had sat there earlier, trying to gather his thoughts after his scene with Quatre in the yard. Perhaps he'd looked for Trowa there. For some company; for some explanations. For some comfort.

Whether he had or not, it was silent and deserted now.

The night was cooler than before, though still warm enough to wander about with the minimum of clothing. The sky was clear; the moon was a bright sliver of silver, unobscured by any cloud. The pale light hit the red stone walls of the courtyard and was filtered to a softer, pinker light as it hit the dusty ground. A few tall, thin palm trees clustered in a corner, their rich green foliage a startling contrast in the day, but just a darker shadow now, at night. The floor was paved with large, multi-shaded flagstones, radiating out in a seemingly careless pattern from the centre. The occasional beetle scuttled across them; a rare breeze blew a fallen frond from the trees up against the wall.

Against three of the walls, there were low, wide stone benches, for visitors to sit. For the last few days, Heero had been the only one to make use of them in the day; a way to pass the time. He'd found some peace there - he liked the pleasant arrangement of the paths; the dark red dust against the light-coloured stone. He'd meant it when he asked Quatre why they didn't make more of the courtyard.

But there was no sign of Heero here tonight.

The pool in the middle of the courtyard would draw the eye of any visitor; it was set into the ground, surrounded by a low, circular wall of dark red brick. It was small, but deep, and large enough for a couple of people to take a dip - to balance themselves on the lower step, allowing themselves to be submerged. Perhaps to sit on the edge on a summer's day, and trail their feet in the cooling water. But it had been sorely neglected. It had run dry, and to see it in the daylight, there was clear evidence that the base stones were cracked. Even in the benevolent shadows of the night, it was obvious that it hadn't been used for a long while.

So perhaps it was a trick of the night, that when the breeze whispered next in the trees, there seemed to be an answering splash from within the pool. A gentle ripple against the wall; a glint of water in the moonlight.

And the passing shadow of a tall young man, with braided hair.


It was later, now. The moon was higher, and the courtyard occupied.

Duo Maxwell sat comfortably on one of the stone benches at the side. He leant back on a cushion, propped against the wall behind. There were a few other cushions at his feet - a couple of blankets across the edge of the bench. He wore loose pants, in a fabric that looked and moved like silk, and nothing on his chest. His shoulders were broad and straight, his neck long and white in the lowering light. He was attractively muscled - nothing too obvious, yet with the promise of strength. The braid was lying easily across his shoulder, the curling end draping into his lap. He was barefoot.

"Where is he?" he murmured, gently. But neither of the men standing in front of him was fooled. He was angry - they knew the signs.

Quatre wriggled a foot into the seam between two stones. He wore a different pair of shorts, in a thin khaki fabric, though they were as brief as ever, barely covering the cheeks of his ass. He wore a feather pendant, on a thong round his neck; and nothing else. He, too, was barefoot. "He's here. Of course he's here. Where would he go?"

"That's not what I meant," replied Duo. His voice was ominously calm. "I know exactly where he is, physically, every minute of the day. Do not be so obtuse, Quatre."

Quatre hung his head. His shoulders shook like he might cry.

"It's his mind that's gone," said Duo. His voice grew a little in volume. "I cannot reach it. He won't listen to me."

"How can that be?" ventured Wufei. He wore his usual, silken pants. And, also, nothing else. He rested his hands on his hips, but there was a slight shake to his wrists that belied his habitual composure. "You can reach us all."

"He is using his passion to resist it," sighed Duo. "It's such magnificent passion! He has no idea how strong it has been such a joy to lose myself in it. But he needs me to help him channel it! To reach his true potential." He was suddenly aware of the others, staring at him. He had maybe said too much to them. They couldn't really understand the depths of this matter - the depths of him. But they were his companions - the only constant ones. He needed their approbation and respect. He needed much more from them that they ever knew.

"Is he the true one?" whispered Quatre. "Yours?" Despite his pouting misery at being scolded, his eyes were alert with curiosity. And something that looked like alarm.

"Be quiet!" snapped Duo. "It's no business of yours, is it? I allowed you both to play with them, and it seemed you'd served them well. But I can't reach him."

Quatre gave a strangled sound in his throat. Wufei glared at him

Duo's eyes were narrow slits, shining in the dim light, with a sharpness that cut at them as surely as the knife that had threatened Trowa's fragile equilibrium. "Did you hurt him, Quatre?"

Wufei cast a curious look in his direction. He was not used to seeing such disturbance in Maxwell. Such insecurity.

"Never!" protested Quatre. "He felt it, Duo - he felt Wufei and his lover, from the kitchen. I know he did. I hoped it would excite him. But I think that it upset him."

"He was not to be upset," replied Duo, sharply. "You were to please him!" His eyes caught Quatre's, and the blond shivered. The pupils within Duo's gorgeous blue depths were chill, and dark, and hard.

"I tried..." whispered Quatre. "But he didn't want me."

Duo's eyes widened, but with some kind of pleasure this time. Quatre wondered what he'd done to inspire that, when he'd failed so spectacularly before. His heart began to beat a little more steadily. His cock throbbed gently at the thought of Heero. He'd wanted him... but now he must wait for Duo to fetch him for him.

"He'll come, you said," spoke Wufei, softly. Appeasingly. "I can feel the dark one coming to me. To us. That will be good, won't it? And then his lover will follow."

Duo's eyes were on something far away, now. He nodded, slightly. "It will be good, indeed. The dark one's fresh, and full of desire, and he wants to be with us. I've said before - he's very fine."

"So..." murmured Wufei. "You will have him, in the end. Both of them, if you wish."

Duo's eyes focussed back on the other man's face. Wufei was a few inches taller than he; but he bent very slightly before Duo, as if he were bowing to him.

"You're right, Wufei." Duo looked like he might be calming again. His eyes roamed over the man's classic features; down to the throbbing pulse in his throat. "You're very wise in these things, aren't you? That's what I like about you - your calm sense... your care in everything you do...and are my strong one..."

Quatre sighed, and a smile crept back to his face. He had looked almost frightened before.

Wufei smiled only for Duo. But he, also, seemed to know that a crisis had passed. He slid a hand around Quatre's bare waist, holding him close by - and with his other hand, he reached around Duo's neck, to draw the other man to him as well. As Quatre snuggled up to his side, grateful for the resumed attention, and nuzzling at his shoulder with his hot, slick lips, Wufei leant over and pressed his mouth against Duo's. After a moment, the braided man returned the embrace. His hand cupped Wufei's chin, and his tongue thrust into the dark-haired man's mouth. Wufei gasped with delight, and Quatre felt the shiver through his body, as he accepted Duo's response. They kissed, fiercely, fully, their hands reaching to stroke each other's body, and Duo's neck stretched out sensuously under Wufei's protective palm. Wufei dropped his lips to the man's neck and shoulders, lapping softly, rhythmically. Duo moaned, softly. With satisfaction.

Quatre was fully aroused, and was already reaching out hesitantly to caress Wufei's bulging groin. He didn't dare approach Duo's... he doubted he'd be allowed near the man for a while, now. That was how the punishment would go, for upsetting the sweet one.

And then he knew it would be worse than that, because Duo's hand reached out from behind Wufei's torso, and he pushed Quatre away. "Wait..." he hissed. His eyes were half-lidded, but Quatre knew he was watching him. "You must's Wufei's turn, now..."

He turned his head back to the dark man, and their mouths were hungry on each other again. He drew Wufei down on to the bench, and his hand slid inside the thin fabric of his pants. Quatre stood to one side, frustrated and miserable beyond anything, and he watched Duo's firm hand wrap around Wufei's fierce arousal. He saw Wufei tug at the pants, releasing his groin to the night air. He saw Duo's eyes close, and his mouth suck on Wufei's neck, so that the taller man winced, and cried out, none too softly. Quatre gasped, and flipped open the top button of his shorts. His hand slid inside, to touch himself. He ached. Duo had hurt him, and rejected him, and left him to satisfy himself -

But he was magnificent, and Quatre wanted him no less than he ever did! Every second of him, every inch of him...

He watched the two men caress, his tongue moistening his lips. And all the time, with perfect familiarity, he pumped at his own arousal.

Duo's hand also began to rub, up and down Wufei's shaft, tugging the skin with him, thumbing the silky pre-cum over the tip, and teasing the head as he did so. Wufei groaned aloud, his hands clutching at Duo's shoulders more fiercely, and his hips jerked eagerly against the other man's hand. His breathing grew hoarser - his head fell back.

"Take me, Maxwell," he hissed. "It's been too long..."

"No!" replied Duo. And suddenly his hand slid deeper, up against Wufei's groin, and his fingers pinched at the base of his cock. The impending climax hiccupped, and retreated in frustrated chagrin. Wufei groaned again, more desperately. Duo sighed into his neck. "You deserve it, I know. But I want you to be ready for your visitor, when he arrives. I want you to be desperate for him, Wufei. I want him to know what it is to submit to that - to beg for that. And then to stretch open his body, to let that desperation use and abuse him, just as it wants. To satisfy its own need. Not just his, as he has used the sweet one."

"But it will be his need as well," gasped Wufei. Duo's hand on the base of his cock was agonising. The thoughts of Trowa, and his raspberry-scented breath, and his smooth, flexible body, was additional torment.

"Yes," replied Duo. And he smiled, at last. He lifted his head, and directed his lazy-lidded eyes at Quatre. He released Wufei's cock, and with the same hand, moist and glittering in the moonlight, he beckoned to the boy.

"Dance for us. Show me your skills, little one. Your twisting, turning body - the slow moves of your beautiful, smooth flesh..."

There were genuine tears in Quatre's eyes. "Is it my turn, then, Duo?"

"It is," the braided man nodded. "You always do your best, Quatre. And it's always good..."

The blond boy flushed. He slid his hand back out of his shorts, and he drew himself up. He was back in favour - nothing else mattered. There was music in the air, suddenly - but from no apparent source. And not like a sound system - or material instruments. Just a thread of melody in the air - turning with each rare breath of wind. Bursting across the silent stones; then bubbling vibrantly in the water. It emanated from Quatre himself; from the hand he held up gently; from the hip he dropped deliberately down on one side. From the wide, pale-blue eyes that sparkled with delight at being the centre of attention.

He began to dance to it.

It was a lap dance; a pole dance. It was sexy, and provocative, and his body bent like melted chocolate, and was just as sweet to watch. Wufei sat up from the bench, and smiled in encouragement at the boy's movements. Quatre reached an arm high up above his head, running the fingers of his other hand down it from the wrist, to the soft underside of his upper arm, and into the sensitive hairs of his armpit. He lifted and bent both arms back behind his head, stretching his narrow, boyish chest so that that nascent muscles flexed and tightened. Then he started to sway, taking small, measured steps, as if to a routine that only he knew, and moving steadily around the circular pool. His bare feet brushed at the dust on the stones, tapping rhythmically on their uneven surfaces. His hips twisted from side to side; the thonged pendant leapt on his chest. His tight, young ass swung easily as he turned his body, and the cheeks rippled teasingly from under the flimsy fabric of the shorts.

It wasn't a feminine dance - it wasn't elaborate. It didn't hold its roots in any formal style. It was just Quatre, showing off his body; showing his enjoyment of his good looks, and his bubbling energy. Inviting admiration for his sense of rhythm; for the display of fine bones, and tight flesh, and the strength of a still-growing boy.

Duo stood up from the bench, watching him. He knew that Quatre would feel him; would know that he was with him in every turn; in every suggestive thrust of his pelvis. He felt the warmth that his little one always brought him.

Quatre was biting at his lower lip; humming softly under his breath, accompanying the mystical musical notes in the air of the courtyard. His hands caressed his chest, tugging at the feather; teasing tenderly at his nipples. He dipped fingertips in his navel - thrummed the beat against his lightly muscled stomach. His touch paused at his hips; his fingers nudged at the waist of his shorts, pushing them away from his body, away down his legs. Bringing both heels together in a sharp, smart movement, he let the clothing drop to his ankles, and he stepped free of it. He was naked, now.

Wufei gave a sharp gasp, the sound heard clearly in the still night air. There was nothing else to hear, except for the sultry notes, and Quatre's own, shortening breath.

Quatre lifted a foot up on to the low wall of the pool; his ass was lifted, pert and provocative. He ran his hands down his thigh, over a kneecap, and down the calf to his ankle. Then he slid them back up, caressing the flesh, pressing down into the valley between his thighs. He dropped his head, so that his blond, damp hair fell over his forehead. He looked up through the curtain it made, searching for Duo. His lips pouted; his eyes asked for attention. His whole pose demanded it. He was mischievous; he was sardonic. He presented himself perfectly - he knew himself very well.

But Duo was behind him, suddenly, a hand on his hip; his finger sliding teasingly down between his naked, sweaty cheeks. "Do you remember, Quatre?" he whispered into his ear. Quatre sucked in his breath, and the smile on his face broadened.

"I remember..." he moaned. The white-blond strands of hair whipped gently against his face, as his head tossed from side to side. "Their hands... their pleasure... their praise, as they touched me..." His eyes half closed. He smiled at the private joy of his memories. The music was slower now; softer. He crossed his arms over his chest, and ran his hands smoothly and seductively down his sides as he swayed.

Duo had passed him now, dropping his own pants to the ground, and kicking them to one side. He was as naked as Quatre. He stood, watching the boy as he writhed, and stroking lazily at his half-erect cock. The broad strength of his shoulders ran into the shallow knobs of his spine, and from there, down his back, to a tender dip at the base of his spine - the swell of his ass was seductive enough to beg for a hand's soft touch; the little shadows between his buttocks and his thighs whispered a promise of juicy tastiness. His hips were narrow, spawning strong, slim legs. The nest of hair at his groin was chestnut brown. His limbs were perfect; his body was perfect. There wasn't any other description that anyone would have sought.

For a second, he looked up towards the walkway. And he smiled.

Then he stepped over the low wall, and lowered himself slowly into the pool. There was the sound of water breaking over his feet - drops of moisture flew up and flecked the dry bricks as his body dropped. No-one seemed surprised that the pool was suddenly filled, and in use, and the dry abandonment of the daytime had miraculously vanished.

And Quatre danced on.


Trowa stood, half hidden by the walkway. He was entranced! He had seen the braided man caress Wufei - touching parts of him that Trowa, himself, wanted to touch. He had seen him direct the boy in his astonishing, erotic dance. He had seen him slide, naked, into a pool that he'd never known was there. His heart raced, rather too fiercely for comfort. A superb body, he thought. A superb man!

He knew he had at last seen Duo Maxwell. And there was something vibrant about the man; something sharp, and poignant, and agonisingly gorgeous. Not just the delight of a sensually perfect body. Something more - something that would draw a person to him; something that would make your day start with him; your night beg for him. A charisma that called to you; that caressed you. That told you that you were the best of all.

I don't even know him! thought Trowa, dazedly.

Oh, but you do! came the voice, full of amusement. It sounded like the Presence.

Of course... thought Trowa. He was too dazed to be surprised at anything, now.

"And you know me," murmured another voice at his ear. A deep, rich one, that he knew well, inside his veins. Wufei stood only a foot away, leaning towards him. His shock fought with his excitement.

"Welcome, Trowa Barton," said the tall, dark-haired man. "I hoped you would come tonight."

"Come and join us!" called Quatre, his voice happy with exhaustion, his feet still making steps around the pool.

"Enjoy us," added Wufei. And he took Trowa's unresisting arm, to draw him into the courtyard.


Duo Maxwell sank deep into the warm, soothing water, his arms braced on the walls, holding his head and shoulders above the surface. He sighed, as the small waves and eddies licked at his muscles. He saw Wufei stroke the side of Trowa's face - and although the young man looked shocked, he made no resistance. He saw Quatre hopping with his own brand of excitement around the pair of them.

He turned his mind away from them for a short while.

"Come, sweet one," he murmured. His face was flushed - there was a light in his eye that reflected a deep, selfish concentration. "He wants you. They all do."

He let his head hang back against the stone rim; his eyes closed. A brief grimace chased across his expressive face.

"And I'm waiting for you."

[part 5] [part 7] [back to Fancy Figures' fic]