Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Breathing Methods ❯ Intermission - The Fighting Game ( Chapter 2 )

 

 

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Intermission - The Fighting Game

 

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Balmy sunlight, annoying as it lands across my forehead and cheeks, making me feel uncomfortably hot as I roll over lazily. Cool shadows caress me, and I hear someone sigh gently, a wiry arm wrapping around my waist as I rest my head on something warm and soft. I yawn, my jaw creaking, fingers flexing against the gentle curve of a rib as I slowly start to remember what happened last night.

 

Anyway, with him gently kissing me and all, it's not really all that hard to recollect.

 

I lick the inside of his lips before pulling back with a hum, ignoring his protesting grumble as I nudge him in the ribs. Amazingly enough, I think I've slept a full eight hours, something I haven't done in…forever. With the exception of injuries, of course, but I don't really count being unconscious as sleeping. Well, sometimes I do, but drugs don't bloody count.

 

“Today is a good day” Duo remarked softly, and I slowly open my eyes before I have to choke on my laughter. It seems my fellow pilot has a very bad, very unsightly tangle of bed-hair and hasn't seemed to realise it yet. Much fun shall be had, as I tease his undisturbed form mercilessly, and much enjoyment shall be derived from the process. That is, until I reach up to touch my own hair, and moan softly. In horror. Damn the bed-hair death that has infected this particular conjunction of mattress, pillows and sheets. Damn it to cotton throw hell.

 

I hit him when he starts giggling, glaring with all the haughtiness of an offended cat, and quickly try to untangle my hair tie from my usually silky strands. Snarls, tangles, ow, that hurt…aha! Elastic! Fantastic. I slowly extricate the black band, wrapping it around my wrist as I sit up properly, reaching for the hairbrush I just know is on the other side of the bed, near the leg. To do that I have to lean over him…and he takes the opportunity to pull me on top of him, so that I'm straddling his waist.

 

Hairbrush in hand I smile sleepily, as cobalt eyes fill with glimmering laughter, and slowly begin to process of brushing my hair. First, the ends, and as I lean back it pulls my abdomen muscles taught, and he runs callused fingertips over my skin and bellybutton until they start to quiver from their gentle, thoughtful pressure. I arch my hips, pressing my morning erection against his own, smile turning into a leering grin as he gasps softly, eyes shutting as he grinds back, carefully. What an amazing way to start the day.

 

The hairbrush has done its magic as the slow grinding becomes rhythmic, Duo panting and gasping as my breath starts to catch, remembering the feel of him, last night. Hot cock filling me, stretching me, invading me and I can't help my low moan as he jerks savagely against me, eyes slit with lust and pleasure. He's gay. Totally. Well, perhaps bi, but that's not the point. I've done the impossible, and turned the self proclaimed God of Death from a slightly inexperienced virgin into a horny, qualified lover. Life, `tis good, as they say.

 

Never mind the fact that my hair may need more brushing, I put the brush down carefully before fastening my hands onto the hollows of his collarbone. It gives me the leverage I need to fully thrust against him, hardness rubbing sensually against my own, and I feel my cheeks warm as he murmurs, “Jesus, you're hot…” Nice boy, my Duo, isn't he? Especially with a pretty impressive erection grinding into mine with delicious force. Whoever said Americans have no stamina have obviously never met this particular Yank….wait. Yank. Heh. Heh, heh, heh. Before too long I'm pretty much giggling like a schoolgirl, and he growls at me, thrusting his hips up in a long arc that makes me fall silent immediately, gasping, because he had just pressed his cock against my tender little ass.

 

“You bastard” I wheeze, and he fails to look even remotely contrite before he grins savagely, wrestling me down onto the mattress so that we're side by side, my hand plunging into the waistline of his boxers before he can blink. His does its own spelunking expedition, and we kiss hungrily as we run hands over each other, his cock warm and heavy as I pump it fluidly. He takes a slightly different approach, all different textures and grips, and I promptly begin to melt into the mattress, one long, liquid, writhing nerve. Damn, his hands feel good…who would have thought that after a night of incredible sex Duo Maxwell would, again, be inching his way closer to my entrance? I growl in warning, still feeling slightly sore, and he grins apologetically, gasping, as his hand curls around the base of my cock again.

 

I tense, and then cry out, Duo plundering my mouth as I spill over his hands, my cock and balls throbbing as my hips jerk to their rhythm at the intense pleasure, his own cock starting to throb quite nicely under my administrations. He comes quietly, moaning softly as his eyes lock with mine, and I love the feel of the warm liquid that dribbles slowly onto my hand, spurting in time with the furious pulses against my palm. We lay there for awhile, softly panting, eyes closed, before I remove my hand from his boxers and study it carefully. Yup. That's nice. I give it a judicious lick, just to taste him, and I don't miss his groan as he sees the rather explicit sight that greets him when his eyes blink open.

 

“Damn, `Fei…” he moans, and I smile as he carefully wipes his hands clean with the towel he used last night to wipe me down. He hands it to me silently and I use it too, a small grin on his face, and he watches me as I finish brushing my hair, two hundred strokes that make me feel slightly more human and less like some nest for a voracious condor. I sigh, chucking the hair brush aside, and grab my towel and bag as I carefully extricate myself from the tangled, musky sheets. He pulls me down, and kisses me goodbye, and I roll my eyes but feel slightly happier all the same.

 

“Shower time. I feel like a family of mice have been using me for a patio.”

 

“That's…strange. Hmm…..'kay, `Fei. Better save some hot water for me.”

 

“I guarantee nothing” I warn, and leave the room with his quiet laughter following me like a blessing. My boy is a rather nice fellow, when you start to think about it. Been lovers for what…twelve hours?…and he's already fallen into a perfectly acceptable and enjoyable routine. We are Gundam pilots, after all. Different situations have to be quickly adapted to, if you want to survive.

 

I slip into the bathroom without getting caught, and I regard my reflection with some surprise as I look in the mirror. My eyes…calmer, a hell of a lot calmer, almost filled with a kind of satisfaction. No wonder he had come when he stared into my eyes. Bruises, on my hips and shoulders, from his fingers…I bruised him too, so I consider us even…all in all, I look like somebody who's had a night of great sex. That, or I've been beaten up by somebody who's very gentle or very wussy. I snort, and step under the hot water.

 

Ooooh…hot water. Nice. Luxuriating, almost. Too bad I kinda have to keep my promise to Duo, leaving him some of the hot water, but it doesn't mean I don't enjoy it any less. I wash my hair, digging my fingertips into my scalp, moaning at the lovely feeling of being clean. And wincing as the stretching irritates my back, but it's a good ache, in a way. You kinda know sex is going to be messy and pain inducing, but when faced with the harsh reality…yup, better to be nice and clean again.

 

I sigh as I step out, wrapping my towel firmly around my waist - I feel no great pleasure in exposing any more than I have to, to the cold air - and quickly rub my hair dry with the hand towel I keep especially for that purpose. I brush my teeth, brush my hair again, and sit on the toilet seat lid, cheek in palm, and stare hazily at the corner until I dry naturally. Call me crazy, but I don't want anything rough touching my skin. It's sensitive enough already, as it is. Damn Duo and his hands of liquid sex. I can still feel that orgasm shuddering through me.

 

I don't put my hair up as tightly as usual…I leave some black strands framing my face, the others pulled into a just snug ponytail at the back of my head…and slip into a comfortable pair of old black jeans that I found a couple of months ago at a thrift shop. Long sleeved red shirt, white socks, and I wander into the small kitchen/living room/entrance hall to collapse on the tiny love seater couch.

 

I groan pathetically as Quatre walks pass, murmuring a polite, “Good morning Wufei.”

 

“Good, yes…” I sigh, and bury my face in a cushion. I can almost feel his confused gaze resting on me, then air displaced from shrugging shoulders as he crosses to sit at the small card table set up as the dining area. “Uh…are you okay? You're not hurt, or anything?” I raise my eyebrows, still with my nose buried in my cushion, and wave a hand around unimpressively. “Meh?”

 

“Oh, it's just that me and Trowa heard screaming…and you growling. And something that sounded like Duo laughing, and then squealing, but we couldn't be sure…” I blush, glad my face is still firmly planted in tough upholstery fabric, and wave the hand again. “Meh. Mawbanna jadeite.” What did I just say? Oh, I don't care. I'm slightly sore, and comfortable, and as I lift my head I snigger as I catch sight of Duo, who still hasn't realised his hair dilemma yet, as he wanders sleepily towards the bathroom.

 

Quatre gapes openly, aquamarine eyes wide as he stares at 02, and I take the opportunity to lazily observe his cute hotness. Oh yes, there are many degrees of hotness. Sexy hotness. (Duo.) Strong hotness. (Heero.) Silent Hotness. (Trowa.) Quatre's in a class of his own when it comes to cute, though.

 

Shining, soft blonde hair, that always seems as if it's been just blown and teased by the wind. Milk fair skin, not too many scars. That innocent expression that's fooled so many - including all of us - that hides a quick mind and a calculating nature underneath. He keeps that side quiet, though, generally just letting his niceness and warmth to flood everything he comes into contact with. I think he might be gay, too. I mean, come on. Pink shirt, purple vest, patent leather shoes? Right, judge not lest ye be judged, yada, yada, yada…

 

He's not slightly buff, like Duo or Heero, nor is he slim to the point of skinniness, like me and Trowa. Slim in a nice, soft way, nice muscle tone, some long, sexy legs that just won't quiet. He'd be a switcher, I think, always changing top and bottom depending on his mood, which I've discovered can be quite volatile when Blondie hasn't imbibed his calming cup of tea. Besides, he likes to chat. When I'm not feeling homicidal and/or like a raging fire, I quite like to talk, too. Perhaps that would be happening more often now that I have the promise of sex on a regular basis to subdue my irritable temper.

 

I must have dozed off, because the next thing I know somebody is sitting on my back. I blink, wondering who the hell would have the temerity to do such a thing, before I catch the scent of lemons and cheap deodorant and sigh. Duo. I allow it though, because I'm sleepy, and his weight feels nice as it forces my muscles to writhe into a more comfortable position. Quatre is nowhere to be seen.

 

He's braiding his hair, a thoughtful little smile on his face when I dare to turn my head, and I watch him quietly as he expertly begins to twist the three hanks of hair around each other. It takes him less than a minute, and then he leans against the back of the couch, feet dangling over the edge from the added height of having me as a strange sort of cushion.

 

“Comfy, are we?” I ask sarcastically, and he grins. “You know it, sexy `Fei. Wonder what's for breakfast, I'm starved…” Oh yes, he's starving and I think the couch might be eating me alive. How similar our hunger situations are. How curiously sinister they both are. I haven't forgotten the time he ate three large pizzas by himself. That had been a disgusting display of human greed and pure selfishness. He stole the last of the chicken satay, my favourite. I still haven't quite forgiven him for that.

 

“Need a hand up, sexy man?” I accept his hand with good humour, allowing him to pull me to my feet, before I collapse again, this time at the table. He hands me a stack of toast and I nod favourably, giving him a warm smile before I started nibbling on one with chocolate spread. I like chocolate spread. Rather, I used to, as Duo calmly remarks that the spread looks like baby shit. I glare, and toss it at him, and move onto one covered with a good dollop of honey. He opens his mouth, probably to comment again, and I send him a look so ferocious I'm surprised his hair isn't singed by the blast radius of it. He swallows hard, smiles gamely, and promptly devours an entire loaf of bread.

 

“I hate you.”

 

“Aw, `Fei, it doesn't really look like baby poo. I was just winding ya up.”

 

“I still hate you. Pass me that jar, and that big spoon there.”

 

“Bossy, bossy, boss-“

 

“Please?” I pout cutely, wriggling a little, and he hands it to me with widened eyes. I smirk in triumph, and proceed to eat peanut butter straight from the jar. He rolls his eyes, and picks moodily at the remains of the plastic the loaf of bread had been wrapped in while I abandon the oily peanut paste go back to my yummy honey treat.

 

Heero. I narrow my eyes as I bite into my toast, threatening him with honey covered jaw death. Bastard. Too damn good looking for his own good. I guess I haven't quite forgiven him for talking to me like a two year old the other day.

 

And what has he got in his hand- rice pudding. Oh no, I love rice pudding. And to see him eating it…

 

I swallow hard, and Duo watches me curiously as I stare at 01. He remains oblivious, eating his breakfast with the same mechanical precision he exudes at nearly all times, and I nearly pass out as he licks some that had been on his upper lip with a little sweep of his tongue. Duo grins, looking impressed, and I kick his ankle as he opens his mouth again - probably to say something else traumatising and damaging, something that will scar my soul for all time and probably ruin another tasty treat - that or get me killed. He winces, pokes his tongue out, and watches me watching Heero.

 

The sweet, sugary torture eventually ends, and Heero fixes me with a scowl as he places the bowl neatly in the middle of the table. I glower right back. The tension is thick in the air, but Duo's not looking impressed. Rather, he's looking at my chest, and I blush when I realise that again…probably from a combined mixture of Sexy Heero Beast Glare And Rice Puddin' Lickin' and the orgasmic effects still trying to wriggle out of my body…my nipples have gone hard. I need a diversion, because Heero's narrowing his eyes suspiciously…

 

“Watermelon rodents of doom!” I cry, and race to the love seat again, diving head first into my previously smothering cushion. There is a shocked silence, before a burst of laughter shatters it, and also a heavy thump, signalling that my boy has fallen off his chair. Idiot. That moron needs a seatbelt at all times, I swear…

 

“Chang, are you on drugs?” Heero asks flatly, and I scowl into the rough, large thread woven green cotton that is my death ally cushion. “I wish” I mutter, wriggling into a more comfortable position, flinching as my ass protests slothfully at the sudden movement. “Having to put up with you all day, every day,…well, pretty much all day, every day…Ritalin's legal, I could get some…baby shit, I'll kick his ass.” I rant/grumble for another few minutes, ignoring both Duo, who's hyperventilating he's laughing so hard, and Heero, who's glaring at me for the slight on his lovely, precious companionship. I continue to ignore them both, and grumble until I'm silent. Fun to do.

 

Trowa and Quatre walk into the room, Trowa wiping grease from his hands with an all purpose cloth, Quatre glaring at the slightest black stain on his once immaculate gay- er, pink shirt, and they seat themselves at the table. I watch, trying hard not to laugh, as they notice Heero, still glaring murderously at me, and Duo, who's so red in the face he could burn something with it, his laughs now strangled giggles, rolling around on the floor like a demented puppy.

 

“Right…” Trowa narrows his eyes, and silently digs into my now forfeit stack of toast. I hope he dies from grease poisoning. Quatre is trying to tug the empty bowl of ex-rice pudding away from Heero, who must have gripped it sometime during the glare-o-mania, with little success. Duo gets up suddenly, and leaps at me, making my day complete.

 

I growl with a feral like attitude, before I start squirming, blinking up at him with huge shocked eyes. He wouldn't. Cobalt gleams mischievously, and he indeed does what I fear, tickling me mercilessly under my ribs. I keep a game face on as the others stare at him in shock, probably wondering if he has a death wish of some sort, before I can't help myself anymore. I'm mortified. Ashamed. Going past terror into the realms of amused horror.

 

I'm giggling like a fucking schoolgirl again. In front of them!

 

“No!” I squeal, rolling off the couch and pulling him with me, both of us landing in a confused tangle of limbs and laughter on the floor. “Stop it, Duo, please! Mercy! Mercy, you bastard of epic proportions!” He grins, sitting on my stomach as I try to wriggle away, hands seemingly everywhere at once. “Not until you admit it does look like baby shit” he mutters, and I scream as he attacks a soft spot on my lower belly.

 

“No! Chocky spread! It calls my name like the siren of the dammed, lulling me beyond the silent white light at the end of mucky tunnels and incredible sex!” I scream, because I can. And besides, it makes Duo laugh, which in turn jostles me, which in turn is nice. Very nice. Heh. Never mind me, I must have been a slut in a past life. Or in this one. Doesn't matter, honestly… “Incredible sex! Mind bending sex! Alright! Baby shit! It's baby shit!”

 

He crawls away from me, laughing manically again, and I have to wonder if hormones had created some sort of dam in his mind, blocking part of his odd sense of humour…until I released it, that is. The others are staring at me like I just sprouted breasts and tattoos, he's laughing, I want to lie down again, and my death ally pillow is nowhere in sight.

 

“I hate you.” I scowl ferociously, and rub my sore ass.

 

“You know you love me, `Fei” he grins, and then blanches, and then grins again, looking sheepish. I start laughing, holding my stomach as I collapse on the floor, the rough carpet rubbing my back as I slowly convulse in a semi circle, cackling like a loon. Having this relaxed attitude with him is so…so refreshing. I haven't been able to let my guard down in a very, very long time.

 

Eventually we stop, and just lie there, panting and grinning like brainless idiots. Heero suddenly announced, and quite loudly too, “Chang is on drugs. Maxwell is being Maxwell. And Chang's nipples got hard when he ate honey. You are all duly warned.” I frown, and snap my fingers together. My diversion didn't work. Duo chuckles, and crawls over to my side, collapsing on his own and supporting his head with a crocked elbow.

 

“Sexy `Fei” he rumbles appreciatively, and I can't help but smile at him as he draws a hand up along my ribcage. Quatre chokes, and a piece of bitten off apple flies across the room. There is a crash as Trowa's arm jerks and knocks the plate of toast to the floor, making the china shatter. Heero's back stiffens slowly, the very air around him screaming shock.

 

“I think I'm still coming, from earlier” I complain softly, rolling a little and curling into his side, his arm coiling around my waist again. His lips brush my forehead, and he grins, cobalt eyes dark and teasing as he sends the tiniest of glances at the others. “Not my fault I can't keep my hands off of you…you're too damn hot” he murmurs gently, rotating me a little so that our lips meet.

 

This is so voyeuristic, and wrong, it's right. I open my mouth with a sigh, allowing him to sweep his tongue against mine, suckling on it gently as it brushes deeper, making my gums tingle and my lips tremble. He groans, moving his hand to cradle my jaw, tilting my head slightly for better access as my hands clamp down on his shoulders. We're devouring each others mouths as if it was the last thing we would ever do, and I can't help the shaky cries escaping my throat as it becomes more and more intimate. And highly arousing. I eventually pull back, panting, gaze ensnared by laughing cobalt as we move apart from each other slowly.

 

“Damn, `Fei…” he says softly, pressing the pad of his thumb to his bottom lip, eyes hazy with pleasure. “It keeps getting better and better, every time I kiss you.” Quatre chokes again, Trowa twitches in his chair like he's got epilepsy, and Heero's still so stiff with shock I don't doubt a brisk breeze would make him shatter.

 

“Hmmm” I hum, suddenly deliriously happy for no discernible reason, and death ally cushion makes a reappearance - it was under Duo - as I snuggle into it. “You're not that bad yourself, Maxwell.”

 

“Well, thankyou, Chang” he smiles, and rolls onto his back, staring up at the ceiling with a sigh. “Last night was good, ne? I've never had an orgasm that hard and intense before.”

 

Quatre chokes again, Trowa falls off his chair in sudden floor envy not unlike Duo, and Heero resembles nothing but mortar and stone.

 

“You had never had sex before” I point out logically, lips twitching into a grin. “The first time is totally different than jacking off, Duo.”

 

“I know that” he huffs, rolling his eyes, and fiddles with the end of his braid. “You were so tight, and hot…so fucking sexy. Who would have thought it, Chang Wufei, one big ball of slut and sex and lust.”

 

“Slut's a bit over the top, don't you think?” I ask softly, and he smiles, a little mysteriously. “I'm not the one fantasising about other…people…when eating breakfast, dearest Master Of Depraved Sexual Antics. You're likely to give people a heart attack when you eat a banana.”

 

“Just because I want to have certain…people…fuck me, doesn't make me a slut” I declare, sitting up and glaring at him slightly, though a smile glimmers in my eyes. “I'm a cuddly, touchy feely type of person.” I spread my arms wide. “I just want to share the love, Duo. Just want to share the love.”

 

“Share away, `Fei.”

 

“Lover of mine, one day, I will make sure your mouth is doing something more satisfying than blathering about like a headless chicken.”

 

He smiles, delighted. “Really? Do you know how? Can you teach me? I've wanted to go down on you since the peanut butter…”

 

I seriously think Quatre is about to hack up a lung, in a decidedly gory manner. Trowa is lying on the floor, his one visible eye glazed, and I think he might have hit his head on the way down. Heero finally shifts, turning around in his chair to fix bewildered stares on the both of us.

 

“Of course, Duo.” I smirk, brushing my fingertips across his flushed cheek, and murmur, “I can't deny you anything…that will lead to pleasure for me.”