Author: Ravengirl
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: 2x2, 1x2x5
Warnings: The lemons are coming! The lemons are coming! And did I mention...? Lemons, lemons and more lemons! Ah-HEM. Got a little carried away there. Um, lessee, what else... TWT, more of Ravengirl's extremely screwy sense of humor, shifting POVs. Did I get it all?
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, make no money offa them. Er, want my roommate? I'll GIVE 'im to ya.

A/N: Dacia, this one's for you. You know why. ^_^

Whiteout + Chapter 1


Don't ask me how we got stuck in a bloody antique safe-house, in bloody up-state rural New York in the middle of the worst gods-be-damned blizzard for the last fifty years. It's a boring story with absolutely no merit that involves crossed signals, missed emails and a whole shit-load of miscommunication.

Suffice it to say, we should have been gone before the snow even started. We weren't.

Barton and Winner had left on a mission two days previously, the lucky bastards, so it was just three of us watching the piles of white build to window-level and wondering how far up the legs of our camouflaged Gundams it would get before this was over. Hell, the way things were going, we might well be able to stroll right into the cockpits, no winch lines needed.

Turning away from the pale-nothing view through the window, I glanced at my house-mates before resuming my seat and the volume of Keats I'd appropriated from our American-Gothic monstrosity's library -- truly the only worthwhile accoutrement this drafty pile of timber could boast.

From my position on the Queen Ann-style couch, I could see Yuy where he'd taken up residence in the dining room, the blue-white light from his lap-top illumining his face, giving it an eerie cast.

Let me state right now that I have a great deal of respect and -- yes -- admiration for Heero Yuy. Of all my fellow pilots, he is the one I am closest to in temperament and mind-set. Working with him is a pleasure and a privilege... and often a relief. We don't have to second-guess each other. We already know the whys and wherefores of one another's actions. Partnering Yuy is rather like having a mobile extension of myself.

The thought of being trapped indoors for an unspecified amount of time with him as roommate was not causing my mind's disquiet. It took Maxwell to do that.

What words can do justice to Duo Maxwell? Quicksilver spirit? Will o' the wisp? Bloody demonic imp from the bowels of hell? Any or all of the above might fit on any given day. He is an ever-changing enigma hiding behind a jester's wide grin. And he is the biggest, bloodiest pain in the ass I have ever had the misfortune to meet.

Having spent the last few months living and working in concert had given us all a fairly decent knowledge of each others' habits and quirks. And the one thing all of us, even Winner, had come to view with great trepidation was Maxwell's oft-whined line, 'Guys... I'm booo-ored!' It generally presaged a rash of practical jokes and repetitive pestering that would have driven a saint to murder.

And now here was I... stuck in this place for the-gods-knew-how-long with no television, soon-to-be-limited electricity, one boy who'd practically melded with his lap-top and another with the attention span of hyperactive gnat. If I made it out of here without strangling someone, it would be a bloody miracle.


It was just little things at first... my shaving kit disappearing, then turning up under a pile of dirty underwear. Chang's hair-ties abruptly deciding to emancipate themselves. Salt in the sugar bowl, coffee in the tea canister.

Then it escalated. I pulled my hiking boots on to the disgustingly squishy sound/feel of water-filled condoms bursting. A rather vile noise accompanied Wufei's seating himself at the table. I later discovered the source to be, as I have since been informed, a 'whoopie cushion'. How Maxwell managed to acquire and hold onto it in the middle of a war and numerous moves, I have no idea. But that's Maxwell for you. He defies even the most fertile of imaginations.

I admit I am not that imaginative a person. For as far back as I can remember, my life had been rigidly structured and controlled. Even under Odin Lowe's guardianship there was little change to the tenor of my days but the number on the hotel room we occupied. I am 'all about the mission', as Duo would say. That doesn't mean, however, that I am not drawn to a certain fey creature who embodies everything my own self lacks... and always will.

He is like the sun... glorious to look on, life-giving in his heat. But like that fiery star, if you look too hard and too long you'll blind yourself in his radiance. He teases me, torments me, infuriates me... makes me want him desperately, without even trying.

None of these things keep me from the more-than-occasional desire to strangle him with his own braid.

And that's what was going to happen if he didn't. Stop. Pranking. Me.

We'd been trapped in the middle of a whiteout for three days, and I could see Chang's blood-pressure shoot up five points every time that laughing tenor rang out with...

"Joke! Joke, guys. Hey, you gotta admit that one was funny. Guys? Whoa, Wuffie, cool your jets. It was a freakin' joke! Oh shiiiiiiiit..."

The pounding of feet and Chang's raised voice would quickly follow... and soon afterward my temples would be pounding right along with the sound of their altercation. It was enough to make me want to tie and gag both of them and leave them in a room by themselves to contemplate the error of their ways. I was not sure I could take on both of them, though... especially not Wufei. And since he usually wielded that sword of his when chasing Maxwell, I prudently kept myself out of the way.

It was after the sixth such episode that an idea began to form in my mind. Germination time was longer than usual since it was unlike anything I would normally have contemplated.

But after a morning spent hunting for my favorite pair of shorts (and finding them inside my pitcher of sports-drink), followed by an afternoon of hearing Chang yell at a locked door (that proved to have no one behind it when I kicked it down), I was more than ready to listen to the subtle voice of inspiration when my bedroom door banged open and Duo bounced in, clad in nothing but a pair of cartoon-character boxers, and proceeded to sprawl all over my bed.


Snowed-in safe-house. Two extremely fi-yine Asian guys. One horny, really cute Duo. No television. Nothing to do. You'd think I'd be in absolute heaven, about to have my every libidinous desire satisfied.


See, what I didn't mention is that those two gorgeous Asian guys? Well, that would be the absolutely beautiful, absolutely straight Heero Yuy and the so-very-hot, so-will-cut-off-your-balls-if-you-even-think-about-making-a-move Chang Wufei. So poor little Duo is just SOL. Bigtime.

This is why I always revert to poking at them in my own inimitable fashion: it's sure as hell the only way I'm gonna get any attention from either of them.

Wuffie's reactions are always so satisfying... all that yelling and waving of swords... ooooh, that really does it for me. Getting him to chase me's just a bonus. That's a little bit of fantasy right there. Snicker. He'd absolutely string me up if he knew what I was thinking when we're streaking around the house like Ranma and Ryoga... only less directionally-challenged.

And Heero...

God, do I want that boy. Have since the first time I met him. Erm... and then shot him. Twice. Oh well, they say that to forgive is divine. And Heero is my gundanium-winged angel. Snort. Gundanium-Winged... get it?? Oh, never mind.

Anyhoo, that's how I ended up taking my fourth shower for the day: the bathroom door is the only one that has three dead-bolts -- hmn, wonder why? -- and I seriously needed to let things cool down elsewhere.

I let the sweat from my busy day wash off my still-quivering body and thought about what I really wanted. Heero behind me... 'Fei in front of me... at this point it could be either or and I'd be a happy boy.

Leaning back against the tiles, I smoothed a soapy hand down my stomach to wrap around my rock-hard cock. Uhmm...

Heero... rubbing that cut body all over my back, his cock sliding along my crack. Wufei... kissing me like there's no tomorrow, curling a hand around both our erections, stroking them together.

Slick fingers circle the tight pucker of my anus... probe... slide inward... ah god! The pressure of soft/hard against my prick, gentle fingers rolling my balls within their sac.

A broad cock-head breaches my entrance... my ass slowly swallows the rest, clenching as Heero presses all -- the -- way -- in...

I rolled my head against the shower's wall, my hand pumping furiously, my thumb flicking at the slit every stroke. So close... gonna... gonna...

I shot so hard it felt like my balls were turning inside out. My cry of release was still ringing in the air as I slumped, legs no longer holding me up. Wearily, I pulled myself from the shower, briskly rubbed myself down.

I examined my reflection in the mirror as I toweled my hair to the point that it wasn't dripping all over me. Not bad, Maxwell. You're a hell of a lot prettier than the Pink Princess. Just get in there and try.

/ Oh you wish, lover-boy. Like Heero's gonna want a skinny sixteen-year-old guy. /

Pulling on my favorite Batman boxers, I aimed a snarl at my inner bad-attitude. That kind of thinking wouldn't get me where I wanted to be. Walking out of the bathroom with my hair loose and my clothes nearly non-existent, I headed for Heero's room.

[ch. 2] [back to Ravengirl's fic]