Author: pyrzm
see ch. 1 for warnings, notes, disclaimer

Summary: Smutfest!

Broken Warriors + Chapter 108
New York, New York

Trowa and his company landed in New York in the middle of a freezing blizzard. During the shuttle ride into Manhattan everyone stared in dismay at the dim outline of skyscrapers and bare trees, dark grey shapes through the snow.

They took over several floors of the Midtown Tower Hotel, owned by Quatre's sister Jasmine, who still liked him and let them have the rooms for free. Trowa, Quatre, Heero and Duo had the rooftop penthouse. There were three bedrooms, one for Wufei and Zechs when they came for the opening. It was a beautiful suite, but Trowa hardly noticed because he was hardly ever there.

He was banking on the showman's creed, "There's no such thing as bad publicity." Everything they'd been through--the shootings and the bombing, the engagements, Quatre's ongoing feud with his family and the lawsuit--it had all had delayed their opening here, but at least kept them in the news. And though he didn't confide his doubts to anyone, he suspected they were going to need every bit of leverage they could get.

New Orleans was a warm, lusty mistress who loved her artists, native or newcomer. New York was a cold hard bitch and damned hard to impress, right up there with Berlin and Paris, their next two venues. If they bombed there after such a long hiatus, it was going to hurt, and hurt bad. They'd made money in New Orleans, but the delays had cost them. If they weren't a hit this time, then other venues could cancel, bills would mount, and he'd fail all the people who'd followed him on this wild ride. Especially Kat, who'd given up everything, and nearly ended up in a mental hospital because of it.

Because of him.

To fail with the show would be to fail Quatre. And he'd fail Duo and Heero, too, who'd invested so much heart in the new show, not to mention their insanely generous financial investment at Christmas.

All this ate at him, along with all the usual stress of putting up a show, but he kept it inside and kept up the mask, hoping that Quatre wouldn't pick up on how deep his worries ran.

The brutal winter cold continued with a vengeance as the rowdies arrived to set up in the Strawberry Fields section of Central Park. Even with the atmospheric dome set up over the tent and changing areas, it was not going to be the same ambience as the Big Easy. It was up to Trowa and his performers to generate the heat.

Fortunately for him, there was no way four ex-Gundam pilots were going to let a little thing like the weather fuck up their mission planning. It was Quatre, with his usual flair for logistics, who came up with the idea for the pre-show blitz. New York was big, so they have to do everything they'd done before on a grander scale.

Instead of the four of them roaming the clubs to drum up interest, they divided the whole circus company into eight masked and scantily costumed teams, each one with members dressed like Trowa's ringmaster and the others in their show costumes, right down to Duo's long braid. Bitter cold precluded roaming the streets so Heero chartered a small fleet of busses to take the various groups around to gay bars, dance clubs, art galleries, bath houses, porno theaters, and other adult venues where they went on what Duo described as "commando rampages", performing street acts, some lewd acts, and throwing around handfuls of the silver tickets. By prearranged (and paid for) agreement with the owners of the venues, at exactly midnight the lights would suddenly go out and dark music would begin to pulse, an intro to Trowa's lewd, husky voice singing his version of pre Colony songwriter Leonard Cohen's anthem "First We Take Manhattan." Heero had discovered that one with his usual accomplished researching, and it fit amazingly well.

As the intro built, the Ringmaster of each group emerged from a roiling crowd of half naked, painted "things" and lip-synced:

"They sentenced me to twenty years of boredom
For trying to change the system from within
I'm coming now; I'm coming to reward them
First we take Manhattan, then we take Berlin.

I'm guided by a signal in the heavens
I'm guided by these scars deep on my skin
I'm guided by the beauty of our bodies
First we take Manhattan, then we take Berlin."

At this point Quatre's stand-in crawled up to twin himself around the ringmaster as Quatre's higher voice continued:

"I'd really like to live beside you, baby
I love your body and your spirit and your clothes
But you see that line there moving through the station?
I told you, I told you, told you, I was one of those."

Then "Trowa" would continue to the crowd:

"Ah you loved me as a loser, but now you're worried that I just might win.
You know the way to stop me, but you don't have the discipline.
How many nights I prayed for this, to let my work begin--
First we take Manhattan, then we take Berlin!"

+

The initial press was mixed. Some critics loved it. Others slammed them--hard, calling it trite and silly grandstanding. The first week of shows sold out anyway, but free tickets were seen in gutters or tossed in public urinals. Others were spotted fluttering in the wake of subway trains. Yet others wound up in the hands of scalpers, going for three times the original rate.

The others were worried, too, but no one said a word.

Their days were taken up with rehearsals. Trowa and Heero had to train especially hard for their act, which had turned out far more complex than originally planned, thanks to Heero's enthusiastic participation. He still had those near superhuman reflexes, and he was stronger than most, even now. He'd taken to aerial work, and for much the same reasons Trowa loved it so. It was the closest thing to flying a Gundam either of them had found.

Duo and Quatre had several acts of their own. Though not as dangerous as Trowa's "Blue Duet", neither of them were completely back to top physical form, especially Quatre, who was still in a walking cast, and had to work around those restrictions. Duo was harder to rein in, and Heero had his hands full with that. Loud sex at night in their own room seemed to be one of his preferred methods. For the first time in his life, Trowa found it a distraction. And it only made him feel guiltier about his own neglect of Quatre in that department but apart from a few quick morning blowjobs, his energies all seemed to flow into the show. Quatre didn't complain, but Trowa knew he hated sleeping alone in that big hotel bed.

When he wasn't at the practice hall, he was overseeing every other act, hanging over Kat and Duo as they put the final touches on the new sets and costumes, wrangling with sponsors, advertisers, reporters, financial backers, more reporters . . .

What little sleep he got was too often exhausted catnaps on the sofa. By two days before the show opened, he'd lost several pounds and was having trouble forcing food down. He caught the others giving him looks of concern, but there was nothing he could do but forge on. There was too much riding on his strength and determination to slack off now. Wufei and Zechs were due to arrive the following day, to help them celebrate opening night. Trowa wasn't sure he'd be in the mood to celebrate anything.

+

Quatre had monitored Trowa's state with increasing alarm. "Red Silk" was on hold until Quatre was well enough for the follow up act, since Trowa refused to perform it with anyone else, but the replacement act with Heero was every bit as dangerous, and Trowa couldn't be this exhausted and be safe.

In the past, he'd always been able to calm Trowa, with sex, with music, with massage or just holding him. But Trowa couldn't stay still long enough for anything, and as much as Quatre tried, he would not listen to reason.

The morning before Wufei and Zechs were due to arrive he tried again, and ended up having a nasty, screaming fight with Trowa instead, which ended with Trowa slamming out before he'd even eaten breakfast, leaving Quatre defeated and in tears.

As he sat dejectedly in the middle of the bed Trowa had not slept in since their arrival, Heero and Duo appeared from their own room, looking as troubled as Quatre felt. "You heard," Quatre sniffled, wiping his face on the sheet as they joined him on the bed and wrapped their arms around him.

"Pretty hard not to," Duo admitted, rubbing his back.

"He and I had words yesterday, too, during rehearsal," Heero told him. "I've never seen him so tense, not even during the war. Was he like this before the New Orleans opening?"

"No, I've never seen him like this. It was fun then, even though it was such hard work and all so new. I think--" He paused, wiping his eyes again and cursing his own crybaby nature. He knew Trowa hadn't meant any of the harsh things he'd spat at him before. "I think he feels there's more to lose now, and he hadn't kept up with his sessions with Dr. B. and so much has happened since--since--"

"Since I came back," Heero finished. "It's been a very strange time. I'm sorry. So much of it was my fault."

"Don't say that!" Quatre burrowed deeper into Heero's arms and pressing his face to his friend's warm, hard chest. "It was those awful people from Japan, and my rotten family, and the press and . . . and . . ."

He went completely to pieces then, sobbing uncontrollably as Heero rocked him and Duo stroked his back and hair.

"You're as exhausted as he is, you know," Duo said.

"What am I going to do?" Quatre gasped. "Tro's right. We must make this work!"

"The two of you self destructing isn't going to help," Heero said, kissing his wet cheek. "There's no Circus without you two. So here's what we're going to do."

+

That afternoon Duo got Trowa on the phone, chewed him out royally for hurting Quatre, and informed him that his husband was sick in bed and that he'd better get his sorry ass back to the suite a.s.a-fucking-p.

"How did he take it?" Quatre asked worriedly, folding back the covers on the freshly made bed.

Duo grinned. "Oh, he's on his way, either to apologize to you or kill me. Maybe both." **

Trowa had been sick with guilt all morning after his fight with Quatre, and the feeling had gotten worse when the other three did not show up at the tent for morning practice. Duo's angry call was just the icing on the cake. He could barely sit still during the short cab ride back to the hotel. His stomach felt like a clenched fist and every nerve was rubbed raw. He wanted to cry or put his fist through the cab window, or just grab his head and scream.

He was vaguely aware of the strange looks he got from the cabbie, and more as he stormed across the elegant lobby. People dodged out of his way, and out of the elevator, too. Catching sight of his face in the polished paneling inside, he could see why. He pressed his palms against his eyes, trying to calm himself. He'd been enough of a shit for one day. He would apologize to Quatre and find some way to make things up to him.

By the time the elevator bell sounded for the penthouse, however, his heart was pounding, his head ached and his stomach didn't feel very well, either.

Goddamn, if he was actually coming down sick . . !

"Meli?"

Trowa looked around the sitting room of the suite with concern. The lights were off and the curtains were drawn against the gray afternoon light. There was no sign of Duo or Heero, which was probably just as well. He slipped off his wet shoes and strode across to the bedroom he shared with Kat. The door was closed and as he reached to open it, he was surprised to see the golden glow of candle light under the door, and caught a rich, heady scent. His quick, sensual mind knew it at once: frankincense oil. Quatre used that for his massages when Trowa was particularly stressed. Trowa smiled wanly as he turned the knob. He was in no mood to relax. There was too damn much left to . . .

Rational thought shut down as he took in the sight that greeted him. The curtains were drawn and candles burned on the dresser, illuminating the three smiling, very naked friends waiting for him. Quatre, wearing nothing but a knowing smile and his cast, lay across the towel-draped bed and Heero and Duo stood beside it. Their bare skin gleamed in the soft light, all covered in the fragrant oil. They'd used depilatory cream everywhere to accommodate the revealing costumes they'd be wearing. The sight of those bare cock and hairless bellies and balls shining with oil like that, together with the way they were looking at him sent him into sensory overload. Speechless, Trowa stood gaping in the doorway, still gripping the doorknob in case his knees gave out.

"I know you're busy, and I know you're stressed," Quatre said, sitting up. He didn't look sick or angry at all. "I know the last thing you want right now is to stop and take a break, but trust me, love, you must, and we're going to make sure you do."

Heero and Duo pulled him into the room and made short work of Trowa's clothing. Duo sent jacket and tee shirt sailing into a dark corner, while Heero's nimble fingers undid his jeans and yanked them and his briefs down around his knees. Strong, wiry arms--Duo's-when the hell had he moved??--hooked under Trowa's, tipping him back so Heero could divest him of boots, socks and pants with a couple of rough tugs. As he straightened up from that task, Heero rubbed the entire front of his hot, hard, oiled body up the length of Trowa's torso. An oily, cuddly Duo was rubbing from behind and Trowa was getting pretty well oiled himself by the time they none too gently led him toward the bed, where Quatre sat, bottle in hand, ready to finish the job.

Trowa surrendered, stretching out on his back in front of him and letting Duo pull his arms over his head and hold them. Quatre poured heated oil down his chest, belly and lavished more on his own bare genitals, then all three of then went to work with their hands, kneading and caressing every tense, aching, worried inch of him, fingertips to balls to the arch of each foot. The scent of the oil had its own magic. Quatre knew a lot about aromatherapy, but he'd never tell Trowa what the properties were, claiming they'd work better if he didn't know.

All Trowa knew right now was that the smell of frankincense, mingled with the heat and touch of three strong sets of male hands and the underlying scent of three beloved male bodies, was driving him out of what was left of his mind. Beyond rational speech, he moaned and groaned appreciatively as the massage remained more therapeutic than sexual. That was all right. He'd missed this, been a fool not to ask for this--the touch of his Quatre and the others. It was all melting him into the bed, every muscle gone lax and soft.

Well, almost every one. Then again, the cock was not a muscle so much as a hydraulic lift and the pressure was building. He couldn't keep his eyes open. Someone's slick hand-Quatre's probably, wrapped loosely around his shaft and stroked it.

"What do you need, Trowa?" Quatre whispered.

Tears welled in the corners of Trowa's eyes. Only hours before he'd shouted hateful, hurtful things at his meli and now here he was, offering forgiveness as only he could. Weeks of stress, night of abstinence robbed him of all higher brain function and he could only gasp out faintly, "You, Corazon! God, I've been such a prick!"

"And not in a good way," Duo readily agreed.

Heero chuckled and then Trowa was being lifted up, turned, and found himself kneeling behind Quatre, who looked over his shoulder and gave Trowa one of those scorching wanton looks only someone as normally innocent looking as Quatre could deliver. As Trowa and the others watched, he pressed two oiled fingers into his own asshole and rode them. "All ready for you, baby. Come on in."

Trowa's oiled hands slid and clutched at those narrow hips, trying for purchase as his wobbly, relaxed body swayed. Suddenly there was a strong warm presence behind him. Heero held him up, supporting him with one strong arm around Trowa's waist. Duo knelt beside them, grasping Trowa's erection and guiding the tip of it to Quatre's pink hole, just teasing the puckered opening.

Heero held him, erection nestled firmly between Trowa's ass cheeks but not entering, and used his pelvis to move Trowa's back and forth, while Duo guided his cock so that he was head-fucking Quatre in slow, shallow strokes. With agonizing slowness, they controlled his every move, gradually feeding his cock deeper and deeper into Quatre's tight channel.

Trowa could still only gasp and groan as he was caressed and overwhelmed by three hot bodies. When he was fully seated at last, Heero bit him gently on the back of the neck and murmured, "You can take it from here, can't you, 03?"

Trowa certainly could. As Heero and Duo moved away, he withdrew long enough to help Quatre over onto his back and pull his legs up over his shoulders. "Want to see you, meli. Bellissimo! Beautiful angel baby!"

Quatre welcomed him back in with a throaty moan, digging his fingers into the fronts of Trowa's tensed thighs. "Fuck me, Trowa! Been too long. Take me hard!"

Pulling Quatre up into his arms, legs around Trowa's waist, he did just that.

+

Sometimes it was good to have an empath as a best friend. Quatre had known without it having to be said that Duo didn't want Heero to fuck Trowa today, and not just because Trowa had been a bastard all week. Deep down, if he was really honest with himself, he really didn't want to share Heero again. Not like that, anyway. That one crazy drunk night had been ok, he guessed, but sober, he just couldn't get into the idea and wondered if it bothered Heero. Quatre had picked up on that, too, and must have said something to Heero, because while they were getting ready for Tro's arrival he'd grabbed Duo from behind, nibbled under his ear in the place that drove Duo nuts, and whispered, "It's all foreplay, little mermaid. You'd better be ready for me when we're done."

The words, growled low against his ear, had sent a jolt straight to Duo's cock, and he felt the same deep thrill now, as Heero caught his hand and pulled him from the bed, leaving Trowa in Quatre's capable---ass.

Heero had gotten even stronger practicing for the circus. He lifted Duo effortlessly into his arms and onto his rock hard erection. "You're mine now. Gonna fuck you so good!"

Duo wrapped his legs around Heero and slid down further on his cock, impaling himself with a guttural yell of pleasure. "Oh baby! Do it!"

Heero pinned him to the wall by the open door, slamming up into him so deep he saw stars. "Christ Heero, you're so--Ah! Oh baby!"

Similar sounds were coming from the bed. Looking over Heero's shoulder, Duo saw Trowa plowing Quatre with long slow strokes, the two of them lost in each other's adoring gaze. It was a beautiful sight, and a very intimate one, too.

"Mmph-Heero. Our room. Now."

Heero hardly missed a beat, still fucking him as he carried Duo out into the sitting room on the way to their room. With his back to the room, Duo didn't at first understand what made him halt halfway to their door or the way Heero's arms tightened around him. But there was no mistaking the fact that Heero was reacting to something that Duo couldn't see. Twisting around, fingers itching for weapons left behind with his clothes, he found himself face to face with a smirking Zechs and a very startled, red-faced Wufei. They stood just inside the suite door, snow still on the shoulders of their long overcoats and in their hair, suitcases on a wheeled rack beside them.

Zechs held up the key card with an apologetic look that didn't quite defeat the smirk. "We caught an earlier-"

Heero cut him off with a curt grunt and a nod toward the bedroom reserved for them, then carried Duo on into theirs and kicked the door closed, but not before Duo heard Trowa's expletive laden climax through their still open door, and Wufei's outraged, "I told you we should have called ahead!"

Duo didn't hear anything after that but the sound of the bedsprings as Heero threw him down and fucked him straight to heaven.

+

Wufei closed their bedroom door and leaned back against it, covering his eyes with one hand willing the hot blush in his cheeks to subside.

"I could get us another suite," Zechs suggested, setting their bags down by the closet. On the other side of the wall, Quatre cried out sharply, a sob of pleasure.

"No, I'm used to it," Wufei sighed. "All I want right now is a hot bath and a nap.

Another moan came through the wall and Zechs grinned and came over, cupping Wufei's chin in one hand and brushing his lips against his. "Are you sure that's all you want?"

Wufei wanted to say yes, that was all, but the delicacy of his lover's touch and the mix of amusement and lust in his lover's blue eyes stopped the words before he could say so. Scents lingered on the air, even with the door closed: bodies and sex and some sweet, heavy perfume. It impossible to shake off the sight of Duo impaled on Heero's thick cock, and the glimpse he'd had through the open doorway of Trowa's room . . .

"Oh hell," he muttered against Zechs's lips. He let his coat slide off his shoulders to the floor and reached to push at Zechs's. "But if you think I'm letting you sleep in their bed tonight, after that . . ."

That's as far as he got before Zechs scooped him up and carried him to the bed.

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