+ Tuesday Afternoon +
Heero was tired of waiting for one of the others to take the first step. It had been a whole day and a half since the decision, and not only none of them had come to his bedroom, but he couldn't walk in a room without seeing them glance at him then away, looking uncomfortable and weirdly fascinated at the same time. They reminded him of mice. Around him they were either frozen in terror or dashing off to hide. He would have thought that they would be eager to get this over with, but apparently their hang-ups were stronger than the sexual frustration.
Or maybe he was ugly; the thought came as he opened the back door.
It wasn't of any importance if he was, he really didn't care either way, but somehow it bothered him that he wasn't socially aware enough to tell. But seeing the way Relena and her friends had tittered about him back at that school, he had a feeling that he couldn't be so ugly. Girls their age were superficial. But maybe guys liked different things. Maybe he was too masculine for them. Or not enough.
He looked down at his hands as he walked to the hangar, frowning thoughtfully. They were callused, and rather large for someone his size, sign, he knew, that he would probably shoot up as soon as he was off the drugs J gave him to keep him small enough to fit in the cockpit. He didn't appear soft and delicate, like Quatre, his muscles well hidden under a layer of baby fat and a skin that had rarely been broken. He didn't have Trowa's graceful built and narrow waist. He didn't have long hair, like Duo or Wufei. He was slim and wiry, rough and scarred.
He scowled. If they refrained from making use of the arrangement because they couldn't find him attractive, then he found them stupid. They didn't have to think about him when they were using his body, after all.
And if they didn't make it work, then he would be on his own later, at the end of the week.
He climbed up Wing's side, slid in the cockpit and sat down, forbidding himself to think about the matter. Now he would concentrate on replacing the screen his head had cracked during the last battle. If one of them decided to stop being skittish, they could come to him. They knew where he was.
When Wufei noticed the thin stack of papers on his bed monday morning, he first thought that it might be yet another of Maxwell's stupid pranks. Then he opened it, saw the pictures, and was persuaded that it was one of Maxwell's pranks.
Then he picked it up with distaste, searching for a candle so that he could burn it.
Then he read a few words, and for some reason finished the paragraph even though his cheeks were taking on a nice scarlet color, and decided that it would be better if it was a prank; he'd be able to kick someone's ass for making him feel embarrassed and then he'd burn that damn report and would stop thinking about it.
But it was from Yuy. Yuy did not play pranks.
He managed to read through it once, only barely maintaining the necessary detachment.
Then he hid it under his bed, and went about his business pretending that it didn't exist.
The cursed report exuded a dark aura, letting Wufei feel its presence all around the room. Even when he sat by the window, he could feel it at his back, and that made the hairs on his nape prickle. By Tuesday, he decided that Yuy might be thinking of checking if he'd read it, and decided to give it another look, just so he could say truthfully that he had read the information provided. Not that he intended on ever putting it in practice.
He tore most of the pictures in two neatly as he came across them and threw them in the trash bin. As informative as they were, they were distasteful and shocking, and he had understood the explanations they illustrated on his own. He didn't need visuals. How could he ever want to do that stuff if he thought about those crude pictures-- not that he had intended to do it anyway. Buggery was just repulsive.
He was so narrow-minded, an angry girl's voice yelled at him from his memories. Even after two years, her voice still made him cringe and think back on his actions guiltily.
He decided after a while that it wasn't the anal sex itself that bothered him, not really.
He had been raised to only think of sex as means to procreation, yes, but he'd been in boarding schools too long to keep imagining that penis in vagina was the only sexual interaction available to humans. He didn't participate much in discussions, but he did have classmates, and he'd overhead lots of stuff. He knew about oral sex --Meiran had taught him how to pleasure her well enough-- and other sorts of fun things, but kinkier stuff wasn't something he'd seriously considered trying for himself (because he'd probably be dead before he got an occasion--better leave that stuff for masturbatory purposes and not lose time hoping to make it happen).
He had still daydreamed about anal sex a few times, like he had daydreamed about a dozen other acts and situations, but... He'd thought of girls on the receiving hand! And his comrades were anything but girly, even that fool Maxwell.
... but as Winner had stressed, there were no girls around here. If he wanted to participate, he would have to -- to... Do that. And to a fellow warrior, too -- not just some random teenager. While he admired Yuy's admirable dedication to the team, he couldn't help but feel as if by going along with it, he would be degrading someone for whom he had a deep respect... even though he refused to admit his feelings out loud. Officially, Heero Yuy was his rival, the one he strove to best.
He wondered if it was cowardly to hope that Quatre's idea would prove itself to be wrong before it was his turn to be bottom. But if it did happen, he'd bear it like Yuy did. There was no way he'd let him get the upper hand just for a matter of delicate sensibilities.
Even with his newfound resolve, the line of thought was still disturbing, so he tried to think of something more immediate. Could he ever get aroused enough to do Yuy? Or would the sight of his body kill his desire?
... maybe -- his cheeks flushed as he glanced at the pictures he'd torn -- maybe if he didn't see his... genitals-- maybe from behind... He could pretend...
But the memory of his behind made him frown. Yuy's ass wasn't round and fleshy like a girl's. It was tight, square almost, a mass of powerful muscles. It didn't look soft and inviting at all. In fact, there was a good chance you could break bricks on his buttocks.
He was probably tight as hell.
"I," Wufei announced to his bedroom as he got up regally, "am NOT thinking about that." He stalked out, counting his steps as loud as he could in his head to drown out the unwanted idea. He could feel it echoing in his skull, fighting to come back. He dropped into a light meditation to clear out his mind, his steps taking him automatically toward his Gundam, the place where he felt the most in control.
Of course, the first thing he saw when he walked in was Yuy's spandex-clad backside sticking out of an open panel in Wing. Even from the door, Wufei could see the play of his muscles under the black cloth.
He'd never realized before how obscene the garment was, how closely it followed every curve and hollow of his body.
'I bet he won't be so tight once the others--'
He bludgeoned that line of thought and buried it twelve feet under.
It refused to stay dead.
'He won't be so tight and strong-- so strong--'
Detachedly, Wufei realized that he had stepped forward. 'I wonder,' he thought dazedly, 'I wonder how it would feel...'
Heero glanced over his shoulder, recognized him, and turned back to his repairs.
'... how it would feel to fuck Heero Yuy... mister Most Accurate Shot... Best Pilot... Strongest--'
Heero bent over again, reaching for some circuit behind the panel, then straightened up and reached over his head for an unscrewed panel. His tank top was pulled taut along his back, unveiling the small of his back and the top of his buttocks.
'How it would feel to top him...? To have him at my mercy? To dominate...'
"Do you want something, Chang?"
Heero's voice was crisp, no-nonsense, his tone short, as if ready to berate Wufei for making him waste his time. The Chinese teen squared his shoulders and lifted his chin.
"As a matter of fact, yes. Don't move," he ordered calmly, feeling a thrill of power when Heero reacted to the obvious "I do have the rank to give you orders and you better obey" note in his voice by freezing in place.
He'd never talked to Heero with that tone before, the superior-to-inferior I-expect-to-be-obeyed tone. First, they were of same rank and he respected him too much to treat him any other way than as an equal, and second, Heero would probably disregard him totally if he tried to enforce an authority that he didn't have clearance for.
But their arrangement gave him that edge.
Heero frowned, and his back tensed as if he was readying himself to push away from his gundam.
"Don't move, Yuy," Wufei ordered sternly. It was amusing to see how deeply ingrained Heero's military training was. He responded marvelously to that voice. But he wouldn't do it long if Wufei didn't do anything with it. Daringly, he pressed his hand on the teen's back, just between his shoulder blades, and just as Heero was going to force his way out of it, he smirked and whispered "It's your week, Yuy."
Heero's muscles tensed a bit more under Wufei's hand, but then, as if reluctantly accepting that the other pilot was right, he relaxed slowly. Wufei felt powerful. He did have the upper hand right now. And he was hardly surprised to notice that it aroused him badly.
... Okay, so he could get it up for Yuy, commented an irreverent mental voice with a suspiciously Americanish accent.
... Now what?
For a long second, he berated himself. He should have read the report with more attention. He knew how to do it with a girl, hell, he knew how to go down on a girl too, and pretty well from what he'd gathered, but anal sex was Terra Incognita for him. He almost asked Yuy, but that wouldn't have helped with his dominant position. So, what was different--ah, right. Sphincter muscles. Way tighter than a vagina. Needed stretching. And there was something about lubricant -- he really should have thought about that whole jumping Yuy thing better, an annoying voice nagged at him.
But then it was Heero Yuy he was planning to nail. Mister Boy Scout.
"Where did you stash the lube?" he asked, whispering in his ear. It was intensely gratifying to see Heero twitch, even though he didn't know if it was because of Wufei's breath in his ear or the fact that he had guessed correctly.
"... sock," the blue-eyed teen admitted reluctantly. Wufei kept a hand on his back as he bent quickly to pull the tube out. Heero tensed as if he was going to kick and spin around.
"Put your hands on the edge of the panel, Yuy."
Heero's body language indicate wariness and annoyance, but he obeyed nevertheless. Wufei let his hand slide from his shoulder blades along his spine; for a fraction of second Heero's back arched involuntarily in his hand.
He had to try twice to manage to hook a finger in the waistband of the skintight shorts. He rolled them down; they fell from Heero's knees, onto those ugly yellow shoes, hindering Heero at the ankles. The only surprise that the spandex had hidden about Heero's ass was the faint scar running down from his hip to the side of his tight, high-placed buttocks. It looked like he'd crashed through a glass panel. There was a deeper, parallel scar a bit lower, on the outside and back of his powerful thigh.
For a few seconds Wufei couldn't breathe. He reached out to caress the scars, but then he remembered that he wasn't with a lover; merely a fuckbuddy. He dropped his hand. He was wary of enjoying too much the pure maleness that Heero exuded. He still liked girls better--hell, what was with that "better" business? He didn't like men at all. What was about to happen was necessary, and he only enjoyed it because--because who wouldn't be exhilarated to have that most dangerous of warriors at his mercy?
He didn't want to wait a second longer. Yuy would think him weak and he wanted to be in him so much... He prepared him hastily, clumsily, aware that this was probably Heero's first time but unable as much as unwilling to coddle him. Under his eyes, Heero's back was tensing up, rope-like muscles rolling under the skin, but he managed to keep his sphincter relaxed. Wufei worked in a third finger, barely, saw Heero bow his head, his nape bared, offered as if in submission, and decided that he'd waited enough.
His free hand closed around Heero's nape, pushing him forward; his cock, hastily lubed up, rubbed between taut buttocks, seeking--there. Then his world contracted into nothing but impossible tightness and hot, moist flesh gripping his aching erection.
He was distantly aware that his hand had dropped from Yuy's nape, that he was now grabbing his hips hard enough to leave him bruises, and then he only paid interest to what his hands were doing because that hold made it slightly easier to pull the other pilot back on his cock.
A distant corner of his brain was still cautioning him to go slowly, to be careful, but the second his belly brushed against Heero's buttocks, he forgot it all. He slid out, a bit faster-- cold! And where was that delicious pressure? He wanted it again. He slammed home, barely registering the grunt of surprise escaping Yuy's throat.
At first, Heero endured it, blocking out the pain. There wasn't any need to stop Wufei; the pain came from the sudden stretching and his bruising hold on his hips. The hard fucking wouldn't cause anything more than mild bruising at the worst and as long as there wasn't any tissue tearing, he didn't see any logical reason to stop him. Wufei obviously needed the release, if being close to getting it made him lose control so badly.
Logic also told him that Chang's behavior wasn't totally rational, and if he tried to pull away, there would be damage. He was too far-gone to appreciate being interrupted. Not that Heero was afraid of eventual violence, but he'd rather avoid injuring his teammate as long as it wasn't strictly necessary.
... But how he was annoyed at his attitude! Wufei obviously thought that fucking him meant that he was his superior. Heero would enjoy getting back at him when it was his week.
He entertained those thoughts for a few seconds before realizing that he didn't hurt so much now. The friction against his sphincter was turning less purely negative and more neutral as the ring of muscles relaxed. He couldn't say that it felt good, but it didn't feel bad anymore. It was probably the endorphins. He allowed his tense arms to bend, leaning forward a little to take the weight off his arms.
And jumped, straightening up as the change of angle made a weird, electrifying sensation run through his lower body. Wufei grunted, shoving his head down once again, and Heero couldn't help it, he lashed back with his elbow instinctively. He felt it glance off Wufei's chest as the other boy twisted his upper body to avoid the blow. His dick slid almost all the way out of him. The Chinese boy snarled in outrage, grabbing his forearms and twisting them behind him, making his back arch, and shoving him chest first against Wing. Heero snarled back over his shoulder, upper lip curling up as if he was going to bite the offender, and then Wufei rammed all the way in and he forgot to fight as the weird shock ran through him again.
He'd thought Wufei was taking him hard before, but that was obviously nothing compared to what he could really do.
He felt echoes of the weird, tingling feeling, enough to make his toes curl in his shoes, but Wufei didn't strike that spot directly again, merely brushing against it during his frenzied thrusting. Heero caught himself accompanying his rhythm, his body following age-old instincts that he wasn't aware he still had.
He didn't know how it felt anymore, but pain wasn't one of the words coming to mind.
And then Wufei grunted loudly, his hold tightening on Heero's waist strongly enough to force the air out of his lungs as his body convulsed against Heero's back. He stopped moving, panting, his forehead against Heero's shoulder blade. His warm breath along his spine made the shorthaired teen shiver.
Heero felt him soften, slip out of him-- Wufei's body tensed, his death grip on Heero's waist relaxed suddenly, as if he had realized what he was doing. There was a few seconds of tenseness and heavy silence, and then clothes rustling as Wufei hastily pulled his pants back up. He hesitated a few second behind Heero-- the short-haired teen could see him reach out from the corner of his eyes, and then as Heero straightened up, Wufei's fingers curled into a fist that fell back at his side, and he hurried out without a word.
Heero was left alone, leaning against Wing's cold surface, his shorts around his ankles and his lower body still tingling weirdly.
'Well. That was interesting,' he thought ironically. Wufei visibly had a few dominance and anger issues to work through, and Heero had been deemed an appropriate target. Oh well. Their agreement could only help him to relax, and he would hopefully unwind enough to stop getting into arguments with Duo quite so often.
Heero straightened up slowly, frowning thoughtfully as he concentrated on his body to assess the eventual damage.
His back and shoulders ached from having to keep the position against Wufei's thrusts. His ass ached more. He didn't feel the sting he would have felt if the skin had been split, but his entrance still felt a bit tender. Not enough to bother him yet, but he had a feeling that by the end of the week he would not be able to shake it off and walk away so easily.
The back of his thighs protested vaguely when he bent over to grab his short and pull them up, and suddenly he felt something wet running down the inside of his leg. He frowned, startled-- was he bleeding finally?
... hnn. No. That was white, not red. He felt --something-- for a second when he realized that this was Wufei's come seeping out of him, but he couldn't for the life of him put a name on the way his mood had just shifted. It was a strange feeling, primal and utterly unexplainable.
"... Next supplies run, think about condoms." Yes. Being practical about it helped to make the weird feeling go away.
After pulling the tube of lube back in his sock, he stepped out of his shorts, not wanting to dirty them unnecessarily, and left the hangar by the small side door. There was a water faucet, if his memory served him right.
Behind his cool, aloof mask, and his apparent disinterest for all things related to social interaction, Trowa was a pervert. So when he walked into the hangar to find Wufei nailing Heero to his Gundam, he immediately stepped out of sight again, sure, but only to find himself a better vantage point.
He watched as Wufei took the brown-haired pilot hard. He watched his expression of feral pleasure as he came. He watched him remember where he was and pull back, embarrassed, then leave, so confused that he didn't even notice the spy. He watched Heero straighten up, the come slowly dripping down the inside of his thighs.
He was ready to take his problem in hand when he remembered the arrangement. If he was horny...
Prologue -- Trowa's turn