Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Androgyny ❯ Chapter 2

Disclaimers: I own GW videos, does that count for anything?

Warnings: songfic, yaoi, language, cameos, sexual tension

Pairings: 1x2x1 and 3x4x3

Beta: Gunnmsangel and Raven Layne

A/N: My precious beta has complained about my sexual cliffhanger. I promise that the lemon is on the way... I just needed to get warmed up.

Androgyny
by Solanum Dulcamara

Chapter 2:

As Heero made his way up the few steps to the platform of the dance floor, he had the sudden sensation of a moth flitting about a flame... but could think of nothing he wanted more than to be burned. The floor was crowded as he navigated towards the middle. Lights reflected off bodies meeting sweaty bodies that melted into the steady beat of the music. Lust hung in the air: thick and attainable. Cool blue eyes scanned the floor as Heero moved through the crowd, never belying the nervous hammer of his heart. He quickly found himself at the platform epicenter with no braid in sight.

Heero had only a moment to feel disappointed before thin but strong arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him against a warm body. A voice, barely more than a breath against his ear, whispered, "What took you so long? I've been waiting."

//No sweeter a taste that you could find
Than fruit hanging ripe upon the vine//

A low moan escaped at the sound of that voice. The hands traveled over his abdomen, long digits grazing his waistband before ghosting up his sides.

Heero prided himself on his ability to make decisions. Trowa often joked that he instinctively "knew" all the answers to all the questions. Whether or not any of that had been true, Heero suddenly understood what it meant to instinctively "know." He knew, at that moment, that he needed to see the face of the man who held him captive... that he needed to possess this man as fully as he was possessed. He quickly turned in the arms and grabbed onto the body before him, afraid of falling. Falling where? He didn't know, but he knew he'd never be able to find his way out.

Impossible blue met impossible violet, and Heero fought to catch his breath. A brow raised in question over the wide indigo eyes, and Heero thought he might try to speak, but couldn't find words. Full lips stretched into an amused smile under an upturned nose. He was beautiful, ethereal, and so much more than anyone he'd ever met. Heero found himself face to face with the fantasy he never knew he had. The lush lips parted in a chuckle and the wiry arms wrapped around his neck.

//There's never been an oyster so divine
A river deep that never runs dry//

Perhaps Heero was silent too long or maybe he'd unconsciously been squeezing too tightly. Either way, the mysterious man leaned up to his ear to once again whisper, "I told you I was waiting for you. I'm not going anywhere... at least, not without you. Now, dance with me." And he did. Heero couldn't remember the last time he'd danced, but his body moved of it's own accord, in undulations where need met want.

Hands over skin, body flush to body, with rising temperature and heightened tempo, the dance evolved, primal urges coloring the movements with carnal grace. Their world melted into sensation as their bodies continued the pantomime of other more desirable activities.

//What you need
What you need
What you need//

Trowa watched Heero move forward, then turned his eyes back to his dancer, letting them travel the length of that sensual body once more. "I'll have this one," he thought, determinedly, as he began his slow saunter onto the floor. He paid no heed to the masses about him, weaving expertly towards his goal. He stopped three short feet from the petite blond who turned to face him. Their eyes met across the sporadically lit haze, and for one brief moment, time stood very still. Sometimes it can be difficult to discern the seducer from the seduced.

//The birds and the bees they hum along
Like treasures they twinkle in the sun//

Simultaneously, Trowa stepped forward as the man curled a single finger to beckon. He looked down at the face level with his chest, and into eyes that shifted endlessly between blue and green. Victorian beauty defined the wide eyes, pert nose, and rosy cupid's bow set in a delicate ivory face. The writer raised a hand to trace one defined cheekbone as the smaller man placed a gentle hand on his chest. The pink lips tilted in a small smile, his words were a soft purr, "I've been watching you."

Trowa's hand drifted down the cheek, trailing down the long neck to tangle in the feathery blond hair at its nape, "I could say the same."

The porcelaine-like hand slid up his chest to wrap around his neck and Trowa found the lithe body pressed against him. The blue-green eyes looked up through thick lashes, "Am I a conquest?"

"Am I?" Trowa answered.

The man in his arms laughed, a musical sound like wind chimes in the summer and silver bells at Christmas. The blond backed up slightly, "Buy me a drink." It wasn't a request or a command, so much as a statement of Trowa's thoughts before he'd had a chance to utter them. Trowa wasn't surprised. Nothing compliments sexual tension like a conversation over a suggestive drink. He only smiled and led the way. He might have been surprised to find a small hand in his, if it hadn't felt so natural. Oddly, he lost the lead somewhere along the way and found the blond approaching the bar first. Unwilling to lose the minor power struggle, Trowa called to the bartender, "Two sloe comfortable screws." (1)

Even as he began mixing, Yohji replied with a wink, "Now or later?"

"That depends," Trowa's companion answered, "Where's Aya?"

"Sulking somewhere."

"Because?"

"He doesn't like it when I flirt with the costumers."

"But you're so good at it," the short blond cooed. The barkeep laughed.

Trowa quietly watched the exchange with a discreetly raised eyebrow.

The smaller man continued, "And what about Ken and Omi?"

Yohji fixed him with a significant look, "What do you think they're doing?"

"Don't they ever take a break?"

"Not if they can avoid it." He placed the drinks on the counter. When Trowa reached for his wallet, the bartender waved it away, "Quatre showing an interest in anyone is reason enough for drinks on the house."

The pair took their drinks to a table and sipped them with polite conversation, before Quatre asked, "Are you going to eventually tell me your name, or do I have to guess?"

"Guessing it would be unlikely."

"Then humor me."

"Trowa."

"So, Trowa, are we going to stop sitting here chatting and pretending like I'm not going to end up at your place?"

A warm, rich chuckle bubbled out of Trowa, "No. I suppose not." And without further comment, he stood and lead the way out to his motorcycle in the parking lot.

//Get on board and have some fun
Take what you need to turn you on//

As the dancing progressed, Heero had another flash of insight. He knew he needed to leave the club and he needed this man to leave with him. He abruptly stopped dancing and looked down into the violet eyes for guidance.

"Duo," the braided man offered.

"Heero," he replied, "I think it's time to go."

Duo only nodded and held his hand tightly as they abandoned the building for the seclusion of Heero's car.

A number of little phrases have been coined to describe a person "on" another, like white on rice or a cheap leisure suit. Heero and Trowa quickly learned the depth of their meaning.

//Boys in the girls' room//

The body pressed against Trowa's back proved to be a delicious distraction. The world whipped by as small but capable hands crept under his shirt. The need to keep the bike upright fought with the need to feel more of Quatre.

//Girls in the men's room//

As Heero pulled out of the parking lot, Duo scooted across the seat, nestling himself against the Japanese man's side. His fingers traced idle patterns on Heero's leg while he tucked his face between his neck and shoulder.

//You free your mind in your androgyny//

Quatre's hands grew bolder, kneading his hips and brushing over the bulge in his pants. Trowa was more than aware of the hard evidence of Quatre's anticipation pressing against his ass. He couldn't have gotten home soon enough.

//Boys in the parlor//

Reveling in the warm breath on his neck, Heero reached out a hand to return the soft touches. He let it blindly explore his passenger who clung to him and periodically let out small sounds of pleasure, something between a sigh and a moan.

//They're getting harder//

Pulling into his usual spot behind the apartment building was harder than it should have been. But as soon as the bike was stopped, Quatre was off and dragging him towards the stairwell. The briefest of touches accompanied their ascent, nothing more than a tease.

Heero parked in front of his condo without event. Rather than try to disentangle himself from Duo, he pulled them both out through the driver's side door. They stumbled out and fell against the side of the car, where Duo's mouth met his in a hungry kiss. Distantly, he heard the car door shut before the couple hurried towards the front door.

//I'll free your mind
I'll free your mind
I'll free your mind//


(1) A mixed drink made with sloe gin, southern comfort, and vodka and oj. It's very sweet.