Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ A Different Circumstance (Arc) ❯ #8 - **Interlude ( Chapter 8 )

“Were you jealous?” The question was sudden, the curiosity unexpected and uncharacteristic. The tiny smirk tugging at the corner of Wufei's lips was also quite at odds with the barest of flushes that Heero could see on the bronze cheeks.

 

They were on the couch, fully naked, with Wufei draped over Heero like a living blanket, legs open and loosely straddling either side of Heero's lap, warm hands toying with the edges of Heero's hair. It felt...nice. Comfortable. Natural, even. Outside, Heero could hear the loud, harsh sounds of a solitary car zooming past, and then it faded, to soft rustles of a breeze playing with the broad flat leaves of the decorative palm trees outside the window.

 

“No,” he replied decisively after a moment, running fingertips along the sensuous line curving over the bumps of spine, up to a warm neck, down to between hot and slightly sticky skin. He paused, then prodded lightly, teasingly, reveling as Wufei shuddered slightly, shifted and pressed back, biting down admonishingly on his shoulder. The utter familiarity that had sprung up between their bodies was frightening; as if they had become in sync with each other, knew how best to reduce the other to a quivering mass of pure feeling and painful hardness.

 

“Not at all?”

 

He thought of Trowa, thought of the younger man's starkly handsome face, with its pale skin and its tousled brown hair, the strong, sharp outline of broadening shoulders and arms. He thought of inexperienced, hungry hands on Wufei's skin, sliding over Wufei's chest and abdomen, and then those hands, slick, wet, curled around Wufei's cock, against the tender flesh of an inner thigh. He imagined seeing through light hazel eyes, imagined someone else watching as Wufei writhed and moaned and pleaded with jerky, shameless thrusts of his hips, pretty dirty words spilling from that open mouth with its hot, darting tongue.

 

“Maybe a little.”

 

He could feel Wufei's lips curving against his neck, and Heero felt a pang at how it made his heart flutter in his chest.

 

“Sing to me.”

 

He pulled back, and stared at the man in his arms with consternation. “What?”

 

Wufei smirked for real this time, hands unlocking from behind Heero's neck to slip down and languidly trace distracting patterns on Heero's biceps. “You can't sing?”

 

He had no qualms in admitting it. “I can't.”

 

Wufei smiled, and leaned forward to place a butterfly kiss on his temple. It wasn't playing fair, and they both knew it. “I want to hear it anyway. Anything.”

 

He snorted, growling internally. “No.”

 

Wufei stared at him, and then shrugged, collapsing back against his chest. They sat like that, unmoving and not speaking, and Heero thought again of the million and one things that had gone wrong, and how this felt as right as anything he'd ever done in his life. Still, he was aware when long lashes fluttered against his skin, and when Wufei's breathing slowly evened out.

 

He reached up hesitantly, brushing a stray lock of black hair back from that high brow, tucking it behind the delicate shell of one ear. And then he was doing it before he realized he was doing it, softly singing a song he didn't have the heart to place, the words falling from his lips. He looked down, almost desperately trying to imprint the image of Wufei's sleeping face in his mind. The orange glows of the sunset fell, casting both brilliance and shadow. How long would this last? With a sigh, Heero tucked Wufei tighter under his chin, and then finally let his own eyes close.