Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Angel Food ❯ Angel Food ( One-Shot )

Warnings: yaoi, lime, 1x5, PWP, TWT, fluff

Disclaimer: Gundam Wing characters are not mine. Dammit.

Author: Cherry Blossom

Title: Angel Food

Summery: Heero's got a new toy and Wufei helps him play with it.

when you come to me

come to me with cake in your pocket

come to me nicely

with that soft kinda cake that's mostly icing

come to me ready and rude

bring me angel food

- Ani Difranco

He's spread out on the sheets like he was painted there, hair a dark shadow against the creamy butter-coloured silk. His hands draw lazy circles on the bed, long fingers trailing in and around the folds of the covers, fluid and hypnotizing in their movements. Skin the colour of burnt almonds peeks through the pale yellow background in tantalizing snatches. Long legs swish back and forth, parting the silk around them like water. A long torso attached to slim hips rubs insistently against the bed. I wet my dry lips and snap another picture, trying to ignore the flare of desire growing steadily in my belly. The small clicking sound and the rustle of skin against silk is the only sound in the room.

He's awake. I could give him direction now, tell him which way to turn, what pose will give me the best angle of his perfection. But that's not how the game goes, that's not how it works. He'll pretend to be deep in dreams, shifting restlessly in five second pauses and I'll creep around the bed, as silent as any wildlife photographer trying to capture the beast at its best, snapping shots like they were secrets, like a voyeuristic fantasy. Actually, that last analogy isn't too far from the mark.

My lens zooms in on the way his hands fist into the loose folds of silk, lips suddenly pursed in concentration. His body shifts and one leg comes up, offering a fair bit of skin for the camera. The shutter closes.

He's on his back now, only the smallest scrap of yellow silk across those firm buttocks, head turned towards me, hair tossed messily above the brown skin of his forehead. Dark lashes flutter in an unconvincing attempt at looking like they're in full REM cycle. A small bead of sweat trails slowly down his spine. It must itch like crazy, but he remains still, artistically displayed for me, hands curled at his sides. Every breath from his body threatens to dislodge the covers from his backside. I wait for the right moment, finger trembling on the shutter button.

Finally, he sighs gustily and the scrap falls into the shadow of his side, caressing the soft skin as it flicks across one cheek. The creature on the bed moans at the sensation and I snap the picture, jealous beyond measure of that stupid scrap of silk. Completely bare to the world now, his eyes open slowly, dark and velvety, like coffee beans dipped in dark chocolate. His lips lift up at the corners and he nestles deeper into the sheets, rubbing against them suggestively to make sure he has my complete attention. He does.

"Hi," he whispers.

"Hi yourself," I reply, snapping one more picture before laying the camera aside. "Nice dreams?"

"Always," he says. The smile broadens. "Having fun with your new toy?" He gestures to the camera. It was a rather expensive model, small and light with a telephoto lens and hundreds of other gadgets I would probably never need to use. One of my more treasured birthday gifts.

"Mmhm." I slide my shirt off my shoulders and crouch on the bed beside him. He shifts to the side to make room for me. "Thank you very much for my present Wufei."

He accepts the kiss I place on the spot where his collarbone meets shoulder and rises up on his knees so that his hands are free to wander over my bare chest. Short nails drag across my skin and I gasp as his tongue burns a line along the same trail a moment later. He smiles smugly.

"Good."

"But you know," I continue, "I think I might have even more fun playing with an old toy." My hand slips around his half-erect penis as I say this and he lets out a gasp of his own.

"Oh?" He tries to sound nonchalant as I stroke him slowly to full hardness but the tremble of his hands as he continues his exploration of my chest betrays him.

"Yeah," I growl, fist tightening around his erection. He arches towards me and throws his head back, mouth open and panting. For an instant I wish I had my camera again, but then I would have to stop touching him and I can't imagine doing that. His hands come up to brace themselves on my shoulders and he slides himself into my lap with one fluid motion, wrapping those long legs around my waist. I'm still in my jeans and he rubs against the rough fabric urgently. I just hold on tightly as he rides me, hands smoothing over his ass, pressing small quick kisses to any patch of skin that offers itself to my lips. He won't last long, I can tell by the way he's moving. I won't last much longer either. Hell, I've been hard ever since I picked up my camera and fixed that luscious body of his in my sights.

He's making those noises now, the little whimpers that mean he's about to come. I pick up the pace a bit, moving his hips up and into mine, guiding his thrusts. His nails dig into the skin of my biceps and he groans loudly as he releases onto my lap. A few more thrusts and I fall over the edge as well, mingling my own seed with the wetness he's already spread across my jeans. I collapse backwards onto the bed and he follows suit, trying desperately to breath air into our scorched lungs.

Sticky and sated, I close my eyes and try to ignore the sweat dripping down my sides. My bones feel like they've melted and are trying to pour themselves down into the sheets. He usually doesn't wear me out so fast. I must be getting old. I feel his weight leave the bed and reason that he must be headed for the shower. I want to join him but I can't seem to force my limbs to move.

My eyes quickly open as I hear the clicking of a shutter. "Hey!" I protest weakly, not able or willingly to move from my prone position to stop him as he snaps another picture.

"What?" he asks, playing the innocent. "It's only fair that I get a turn. You took pictures of me."

"Yeah, but I took my pictures before you were all sticky and sweaty and exhausted. I'm still wearing these creamed jeans for God's sake."

He zooms in on my face, probably trying to capture the sulky pout I'm sporting, and laughs low in his throat.

"Lover," he purrs, "you have never looked more delicious then you do at this very moment."

I raise one eyebrow, skeptically. "Really?"

"Mmhm," he says, licking his lips. "You look like sex and angel food cake. All that delicious white icing…"

That startles a laugh from me and I catch his arm as he darts in to take another picture, pulling him towards the bed.

"Wants another taste?" I whisper huskily, drawing his head down for a long kiss. He smiles at me and worms his hands down between us to unzip my jeans.

"Are you sure you're up for another round lover?" he teases as he runs a finger through the sticky remains of our last effort and chuckles when my hips jump towards his hand responsively.

"I don't know," I reply truthfully. "But it'll be fun finding out."

He kisses me hard in what I take to be agreement and we leave the camera clustered with my discarded jeans on the corner of the bed. We twine together on those butter-cream sheets once more: burnt almonds and angel food. Picture perfect.

Fin.