Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Takeover ❯ Takeover ( Chapter 1 )

Title: Takeover
Author: Kiarene
Pairings: 1x5
Rating: R. Very R.
Summary: AU. Corporate raider Heero Yuy has his sights on one Chang Wufei. Started: 24th April 2004 Finished: 20th July 2005
Disclaimer: I so totally own them. Bwahaha. Feedback: It keeps the boys panting.  

//Mr Maxwell on line two, sir.\\

“Thank you Sally,” I say politely and press a button on my intercom. “Hello Duo. What can I do for you?”

Leaning back and swivelling my chair around to gaze out at the city as my boyfriend chatters away on the phone. Large panes of glass cover one entire side of my office, giving a panoramic view of the city below. From the CEO office of one of the largest companies in Sanc, WingCorp, it is a very grand view indeed.

My attention wanders. From the fiftieth floor, I could hardly see the people and the vehicles look like toys. It all looks eerily fake — the rest of the world that is. It all seems so insipid, so distant. So beneath me.

Not yet thirty — another two months — and I am already one of Sanc’s richest men. And I did it all on my own.

Not yet thirty and I am already jaded and cynical. I've been called arrogant and cold-blooded too and I don't care. I can't remember the last time I felt excitement or any emotion other than annoyance or anger at the stupidity of people around me. Even another successful coporate takeover only feels expected and routine, instead of generating the fire in my belly it used to when I first started building up WingCorp.

Not yet thirty and I feel like old. No, that isn’t it… It’s not that I feel the dulling of senses that comes inevitably with age, but I feel… disconnected. Disinterested.

Dull.

//Are you listening, Heero?\\

“Yes, Duo,” I say, careful to keep any irritation out of my voice.

Duo Maxwell is quite different from me. A popular model, Duo is beautiful, gregarious and charasmatic; everybody loves him. Wants a piece of him. Well, everybody except Sally that is. But I like that in her; Sally Po doesn't take nonsense from anybody and that's why I pay her so well to be my secretary.

Duo could have anybody he wants, and he had a string of partners, of both genders, in the past. But from the first time he saw me at a party a year ago, he didn't bother to hide the fact that he wants me and chased after me like a dog with its bone. Duo… can be quite exuberant.

Quite flattering, really.

I am under no illusions as to my attraction for Duo. I'm rich and powerful, and incidentally not too bad looking; I used to be consistently listed as one of Sanc's most eligible.

Duo is my boyfriend, but am I Duo's?

I think about it as I grunt into the phone absently.

Well, for the moment. Duo was not too bad as a companion. He’s *alive*, bubbling like New Year’s champagne and I guess I keep him around in hope that some of the glitter might rub off on me. He's on the high maintenance side, but he's smart and amusing. I don't have to be worried about being embarrassed when we attend the high-profile events both often gets invited to. Sex is *great* and god knows that's rare. Plus, and it's a big plus, he keeps the other useless admirers away.

Mentally tallying up a list of pros and cons, it would be more logical to remain with Duo.

I suppose there should be something wrong when I access my personal relationships like I go over one of my companies' quarterly evaluations, but I fail to see why. It is only logical.

//Ja. Maybe I’ll see you for dinner this weekend.\\

"No problem," I murmur. That was another thing I liked about Duo — he isn’t clingy. We both have busy schedules and usually only see each other on the weekends, which suits me fine.

Duo makes some loud kissy sound. I make a non-committal noise — I have never made such juvenile sounds in my life — and replaced the handset, wondering what Duo had been bitching about this time. Probably something about Howard, Duo's agent, again.

However, I do not get back to work immediately. Instead, I continue staring out over the city, feeling restless and wondering if maybe a trip was in order. Maybe a weekend in Hong Kong or Thailand; somewhere with good food.

//You have a visitor, sir. A Dr Chang.\\

I frown. "I've no appointments with... Wait. Is it Chang Wufei?"

//Yes sir.\\ A pause. //Shall I let him in?\\

Chang Wufei is a Biochemistry lecturer at Sanc University. One with a stubborn activist streak a mile wide and skin a foot thick. I’ve never met him before, never seen the guy or heard of him before, but for the past month, he had been among the forefront of WingCorp's critics, taking issue with our environmental practices.

My fingers drum irritably on my desk as I consider.

This wasn't the first time Chang had come to my office, demanding to be heard. I turned him down last week, even refusing to pick up his call when he tried a day later, but it appears that the Chinese man could be very stubborn too. What *is* his problem?

//Mr Yuy?\\

Why the hell not. Maybe if a face-to-face meeting would convince Chang to leave me alone. Turn on the Yuy… charm.

"Send him in, Sally."

//Yes sir.\\

My expression hardens and I lean back, right ankle casually thrown over left knee and fingers steepled.

When Sally opens the door, I barely managed to conceal my surprise. I had been expecting an elderly academic or a middle-aged paper-pusher in tweed and coke-bottle glasses — that was what *I* remembered of my lecturers back in Sank University.

Not this spit-fire.

Chang Wufei strides into my office with the coiled grace and power of a panther, ponytail swinging and dark eyes flashing behind fashionable wire-rims. He is young, probably in his mid-twenties, with black hair that reaches half-way down his back in a tightly caught-back tail and bronzed skin that shows he is definitely *not* just a desk-bound academic.

Dressed in a white Chinese tunic over black jeans, the traditional top emphasizes the almond shape of his piercing eyes and the ebony of his hair. A tiny black embroidered dragon plays on one shoulder, the tail forming an asymmetric row of frog buttons. Quirky.

Chang is an arresting mix of foreign and familiar. With the amount of inter-racial mixing these days, it is rare to find someone of Chang's pure-blooded looks. Myself, I am of mixed descent — a Japanese with blue eyes. Even my Chinese secretary, Sally Po, has hazel hair and blue eyes.

Chang Wufei is *gorgeous*.

"Have you even read or heard anything about what I've been saying about dioxin or PCB poisoning?" Chang slams a folder down onto my desk. "Do you even care?"

Concentrate Yuy. Stop lusting after the guy. I open my mouth, ready with the usual spiel. "We process our by-products carefully--"

"Not carefully enough!" He interrupts and matches me scowl for scowl. Flipping open the folder, he rifles thought the papers inside and plucks out sheet after sheet. "I've been sampling the water, soil and air from the areas surrounding your factories, and the levels of dioxins and other pollutants are still at dangerous levels. Your factories have deplorable standards!"

I glance down at the data, recognizing it from the latest set he sent a few days ago, which I had only given a cursory glance through. "By whose standards are you following? According to the Health Ministry's guidelines—"

"—which are outdated and set for the average male that weighs like a cow—"

"—our levels of pollutants fall within—"

"—and those so-called guidelines do not take into account women and children, who have a lower body mass—"

"—you’re overreacting. There has been no studies to show that—"

"—that's because such epidemiological studies take years, in case you have not realized—"

"—hence you have no proof either that such levels are—"

"—there *have* been animal studies that conclusively show the effects of dioxin exposure, for instance in reduced endocrine and liver functions—" A finger jabs viciously at a figure or diagram to prove this point.

"—animal studies are *not* indicative that the same effects—"

"—do you realize how asinine your last statement was?" Somehow he managed to look down his nose at me even though we were the same height, condescending scorn dripping from his tone. "In what way are animal studies not indicative? And that brings up another point; if the levels of pollutants produced by *your* factories are harmful to humans—"

"—which they *aren't*—"

"—yes they *are*, and don't interrupt me, then they are certainly lethal to the ecosystem and animals that have a lower body mass than humans—"

Suddenly, I realize that we're standing almost nose-to-nose, voices raised angrily. Accusations and rebuttals fly furiously between us. My blood is pumping and I'm sure my cheeks are as flushed as his.

He looks good with color high on his cheeks, I think distractedly.

I haven't had so much fun in a long time.

He is quick, his mind like a trap as he catches my arguments deftly. The usual media spiel won’t work with him. But I am no slouch either — I would not have made it this far in the business world otherwise.

And it certainly helps that he's ...more than easy on the eyes. Intelligent dark eyes — are they as black as his hair or are they just a very deep chocolate? I lean a little closer, curious — flashing as they dart between his painstakingly prepared documents and me, sensual thin lips twisting angrily as sharp words spilled. Lean muscles flexes beneath the silky material of his top as he gestures and I'm suddenly consumed by the thought of seeing him without that top. Without anything at all.

I’m abruptly abushed by thoughts of those sloe eyes heavily hooded and dazed with lust. Lips swollen and wet and throughly kissed. My eyes trail down the sweet curve of his neck before I manage to tear my gaze away.

Shit. I don't need to look down to realize I'm currently as hard as rock, no — I think I can bloody *carve* a rock.

"Are you free tommorrow?" I place my hand over his mouth abruptly. I suppose I could have interrupted him in a better manner, but... I’m feeling bold.

And yes, his lips *are* as soft as they look.

"What?!" Chang tears my hand away, stepping back with an outraged expression on his face.

"Dinner. You can convince me more then, because I'm running late for another appointment now."

"Kisama! Have you even been listening to me? I warn you, I will bring all these data to the newspaper if—"

Gods. So damn fiery.

I give a delighted smile that throughly unnerves him. "Yes I have. That's why I want to have dinner with you tommorrow. The newspaper won't print this anyway."

"What do you mean by that?" Confusion is quickly replaced by fury again. "Do you think they won't believe me?"

"No, not that. Just… give me a chance to listen to you." I flash him my most charming smile and the look on his face is priceless. He looks shocked and suspicious, eyes wide and wary, and kissable lips slightly parted as if to say something.

Gently but firmly, I move around to the front of my desk and place my hand on his forearm, intending to guide him out. Hoping to hell he doesn’t notice my tented pants. He snatches his arm away and shuts his jaw with an almost audible click.

“Seven. I’ll pick you up at the university.”

“No, I’ll come here.” He scowls at me, clearly torn. Probably wondering what the hell I’m playing at.

“Fine.” I open the door, ushering him out. I have an urgent appointment all right — my dick throbs against my pants in impatience.

"Read that," he scolds me as he leaves.

I feel like an errant schoolboy again and grin. "Yes... Teacher."

The sturdy door to my office swings shut and cuts off his reply. Immediately, my back is to the door, my pants and underwear are around my knees and my right hand is around my cock.

Gods. What an exquistite, gorgeous creature. So argumentative and fiesty and brillant and passionate and lickable…

I'm so damn hard I came within a few strokes.

I *came* so damn hard I nearly keeled over, vision exploding in brillant white for a moment. White like his virgin-white silk top.

Fuck.

What have you done to me, Chang?

I sag bonelessly against the door, feeling oddly satisfied and also frustrated. An odd laughter bubbles in me, carbonated silly bubbles of sound. I haven’t lost control like that since… since never! Nobody has *ever* affected me like that.

Duo Maxwell is alive, but Chang Wufei makes *me* feel alive.

*Fuck.*

My spent cock twitches in agreement.

~

 

As I exited the men's room, five minutes to seven, I catch sight of Chang walking along the corridor towards my office. I saw him from the front yesterday; this time I take the chance to admire his rear view.

Today, he is dressed entirely in black: a well-cut black leather jacket shows off the broad set of his shoulders nicely, which tapers down to a trim waist. His hair is caught up in a braid this time, a twisted streak of glossy ebony that catches the light as it swings. Snug black jeans cup the sweet curve of his hips and ass, and I must admit my attention comes to a short circuit there.

Christ. He has a fantastic, tight bubble of an ass. Makes me wonder what he does to keep fit.

Makes me wonder what it looks like without the jeans.

"--to see Mr Yuy, Ms Po," Chang says politely. God, even his voice, deep and sure, sounds like sex. He probably has to beat off his students with a stick.

"Call me Sally, Mr Chang." Sally smiles warmly and I choke. My assistant has often been compared to the Cerberus; as watchful and just as friendly as the mythical gatekeeper to Hell — and I do catch that reference to me as well. Duo has been calling her "Sally" or "Sal" for months, and her response is usually a frosty "Call me Ms Po."

"In that case Sally, call me Wufei."

My scowl deepens and Sally happens to look up at this point, eyes widening as she catches sight of my possessive glare.

*Mine*!

"Mr Yuy!" Sally sounds a bit flustered. Good.

"Give me a moment, Chang." I stride into my office, picking up my laptop and keys. An unfamiliar feeling of doubt coils heavily in my gut and I recall the background check I ordered on Chang Wufei this morning.

Twenty-six, living alone at one of the executive apartments provided for the university lecturers on campus. Only son, parents passed away. Earning a decent salary, frugal and has a good credit line.

Then came the stunner.

Married at twenty-two, widowed at twenty-four. Apparently no serious relationships since then.

Married! To a *female*!

I recall the brief wrenching feeling of disappointment and anger, when I had been sorely tempted throw my laptop against the wall, before I pulled myself together. Like I'm going to let a mere thing like heterosexuality stop me. I'm a Yuy. I've *never* been refused before.

Then I realized — I had never lost my temper to the extent I wanted to throw my beloved laptop against the wall before. I'm not prone to fits of pique or tantrums.

Damnit. What are you doing to me, Chang?

Having recovered from her earlier fright, Sally gives me a knowing smile when I left my office. Nosy woman. She's too observant, but it's good if she knows I'm interested in Chang and keeps her paws off him.

"Night, Sally."

"See you tomorrow, Mr Yuy." Was there a hint of questioning innuendo in her voice? Cheeky woman.

Still, I'll be keeping an eye on her. And Chang. She's Chinese, he's Chinese. I'm not racist but who knows? Maybe Chang is; his dead wife was a pure-blooded Chinese too. A distant cousin of his from the Long clan too. Damn. Maybe his family believes in 'keeping it in the family'. Good thing his parents are dead — one less obstacle for me.

"Have you read—"

"Dinner first, Chang." I drawl. The life dings and we enter.

Chang frowns and flushes slightly.

Standing side by side, he stares straight ahead and so do I. As the lift travels down silently, I catch his eyes in the mirror. "How did you get here?"

Under his jacket, he's wearing a white linen shirt with a mandarin collar. Is it a coincidence? Black and white again. Traditional mourning colors for the Chinese — is he still hung up on his wife?

Catching sight of my furrowed brows and pursed lips in the mirror, I make a conscious effort to relax.

"Motorbike," Chang replies shortly, zipping up his jacket. "Where are we eating?"

Looking at his attire, I make a quick decision. "Hil's Cafe." It's not too high-brow, it's got good food, good view and most importantly, it's private. I do *not* want any interruptions tonight. 

"Ok. I know where that is."

The lift dings again and he walks out first, heading for a sleek black bike parked near the entrance. Once again, my eyes are irresistibly drawn to his rear, the slight sway of narrow hips hypnotic. His gait is smooth and even; he moves like a dancer or a martial artist.

On one hand, I'm disappointed we'll be in separate vehicles. On the other hand, seeing him bent over that sports bike, thighs hugging that powerful machine — I guess that's more than adequate compensation.

As I drive out behind him in my own car, a two-seater Porsche, eyes flickering between the distracting ass and the road, I sincerely hope I do not get into a traffic accident.

~

Dinner was frustrating.

On one hand, Chang is fixated on my factories’ environmental practocols, while I simply couldn’t care less. I want him to focus on *me*. On the other hand, *he* is there.

I’m fascinated by every tilt of his head and curve of his lips, distracted by the flick of his wrist as he gestures passionately, enthralled by the glimpse of ivory of teeth every time he takes a bite. 

I’m in *pain* by the time the waiter clears away the plates and asks us if we would like dessert. I shake my head but Chang nods with a smile.

“You like sweet stuff, Chang?” I ask with interest.

He looks faintly embarassed and keeps his eyes on the menu. “Well, yes. Not so much sweets, but I confess a weakness for chocolate.” I file away that little titbit. Folding the menu, he hands it over to the waiter. “A slice of the chocolate truffle please.”

“A glass of red for me,” I tell the waiter. I don’t really like to drink; I don’t like the idea of losing control, but dining and wining are necessary corporate skills. So I drink a glass — it keeps clients satisfied for most people have this odd notion that it’s rude to be the only one drinking and a few glasses lowers their own inhibitions. I also think it’s a good idea to build up some alcohol tolerance, unfortunately, I have to drink occasionally to keep up that tolerance.

“You’re not really interested in what I’ve been trying to say, are you?” Chang asks bluntly.

“Frankly? I’m not really interested in the scientific or environmental aspects,” I hold up my hand to forestall his retort as his face frowns, “but, I am willing to listen to you.”

“Really,” he snorts derisively.

“Really.” I try to smile sincerely. “It would be good for WingCorp’s image.”

Chang looks disappointed and angry, but resigned. “I guess that’s the best I can hope for.”

“Seriously Chang, I’ve never thought about such issues. Don’t you think that it’s quite an achievement that I’m willing to consider changes after only talking to you twice?” I coax. I may not be the natural charmer like Duo, but I’ve had the best image consultants and body language coaches.

While I’ve never fully given in to demands, I’ve realize that it’s best to compromise a little as well. Give them their small victories and they’ll keep coming back.

“Well, you’re honest. Of course, the real test would be to see if you are truly sincere in making changes,” he sneered.

“What kind of changes do you have in mind?” I asked curiously.

He eyes me for a moment before opening the folder and taking out a few sheets of paper. "I've only sketched out a rough outline, but there are processing and scrubbing technologies available that would render your by-products more environmentally friendly."

He hands the papers to me and starts explaining. I look over the numbers, impressed by the effort he had put in. After all, just two days ago, I wouldn’t have been willing to listen to him, much less implement his changes.

"This will be costly to implement..." I check the figures, frowning. "Firstly, I would have to replace all of the existing equipment, which aren't cheap nor are they wearing out yet. Secondly, the new technologies cost, on average, twenty to thirty percent more."

Chang grimaced. "Yes, unfortunately environmentally friendly processes are still in their infancy. Hence the high cost."

"Do they even work? Deliver the numbers promised? Have they been tested in industry?" A small part of me is asking why I am even giving this serious consideration.

To be really honest? I'm being swayed by a pretty face.

"They should work. I'll have to admit, most of these processes have only been tested in laboratories. Those that have been tried and tested in industry do deliver, although there might be initial hiccups," Chang replies earnestly. A few strands of hair escape from his braid as he nods and he pushes it back behind his ears absently. "I know the outlay is high, but I believe WingCorp can afford it."

I raise a brow. "Yes we can. But why should we, given that none of our competitors are doing it?"

"Don't you ever do anything for the principle of it, regardless of the monetary cost? Some things are more important than material gain," Chang said crossly.

A pang of hurt lances through me at his disapproval but I ignore it. Who is he to judge me? Frowning, I cross my arms and ask him, "Why do *you* do this?"

"Because it's the *right* thing to do. We all have a responsibility to our environment; we *live* here too. WingCorp is not struggling; you can afford to effect these changes. Have you ever..." Chang trails off quietly, eyes dropping to the tabletop.

"Have I ever...?"

"Never mind." Chang shakes his head. "It's not relevant to the discussion at hand."

My frown deepens — I do not like *not* knowing. Who ever said ignorance was bliss was clearly an ignorant fool. But I do not pry further.

"It would be good for WingCorp's image, as you've admitted," Chang continues, raising his head to look at me again. His dark eyes seem to sparkle as he talks about his passion, his gaze intense and tone passionate.

"You can implement these changes gradually, in some of your factories first, and after a few years, your investment *will* pay off. Because the processes are cleaner, you'll be saving in energy cost. Some are even more efficient than traditional practices. Many groups now are lobbying for more stringent standards; I believe it’s only a matter of time before industry has to adhere to more environmentally friendly standards."

His tone turns sly and he waggles his brows playfully. "In fact, some of my own research focuses on such cleaner processes..."

I laugh, teasing him. "Fishing for grants, Chang?"

"It is mutually beneficial. We can share rights to the patents," he smirks, nodding at the waiter who arrives with his desert and my wine.

"Perhaps." I take a sip. I sound non-committal, but actually, that proposal — investing in his research — sounds tempting. "Will you object to overseeing these changes, if I should approve?"

Will I get to see more of you, in other words.

"Will you hire me? Am I not irritating, pestering you like this." Chang smiles and suddenly I want to see him smile like that again. He has a beautiful smile, honest and warm.

“Hire you?” I smirk, thinking of what I’ll want him to do if I could …hire him.

"I warn you, I’m not cheap." Chang quips. Fuck, I’ve a wicked, *wicked* imagination.

Picking up the small fork, he takes a bite of his chocolate truffle and gives a low, estastic moan. "Gods."

I almost choke on my wine. "Good... cake?" My voice comes out a little hoarse.

He glares at me. "It's not *just* a cake." And licks an errant bit of chocolate icing from his upper lip.

"Right," I mutter weakly. His lip gleams wetly in the soft amber lighting. He’s playing with me, I swear.

Chang takes a larger bite, eyes slitting in pleasure. His smile becomes sweet. "So does this mean you'll do it?"

"Yeah." My eyes stay fixated on his lips, full and red after a meal. They part slightly and a pink tongue — wet and soft — darts out to check if any chocolate has been smeared on those lips. There is some chocolate on the tongue in fact, and his tongue’s action stains those previously cleaned lips, and so the tongue comes out again to lick...

"Oh yeah...." I hiss in a low voice.

The slim bronze column of his throat works as he purrs in delight and that sound should be *illegal*. "This is so, so sinfully rich." Digs his spoon into the gooey chocolate, his wrist twisting elegantly and I'm *never* going to look at chocolate in the same way again. "Positively decadent. Horrid to work off..."

And that conjures up images of all things sinful and decadent and *moaning*. Cool sheets and hot limbs entwined. A flash of caramel skin, a smear of dark chocolate.

I manage, very manfully, to stifle a whimper.

His eyes snaps open abruptly, the chocolate-induced orgasmic bliss forgotten when he registers what I've just said. "Yeah? As in, you'll make the changes?"

Changes? I blink. What *did* I say? "Yes...?"

"Great!" Chang's expression lights up. "Everything I recommended?"

Oh. Those changes. Shit.

"Oh. Uhh… Yeah."

Giving myself time to think, I signal for the check. "It's been a long day. Shall we discuss this further, perhaps tomorrow? I pick up the check of course."

"Sure," he chirps happily. Of course he's happy. He just did what nobody else in Sanc had done before — got me to roll over like a docile puppy and offer my tummy for a rub. Figuratively.

Scarily, I probably *would* have done that if he licked his lips like that again.

Wasn't it only last week when I left a board of directors cursing my name when I undercut their offers shrewdly? Cold-hearted bastard was probably the mildest expletive.

Chang is probably laughing at me now, I know it. I glance at him out of my eye as I sign the check, but he's only preoccupied with finishing his desert.

Damn. Now I'm envious of his chocolate. Getting licked and swirled and swallowed.

Well, maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Like he said, WingCorp can afford it. Better yet, it would give me plenty of reasons to see more of him.

Bad, *bad* thought. But my traitorous mind has scampered on ahead with naughty thoughts of bronze-creamy skin and silky black and white clothing that was rapidly *not* there.

"Shall we go?" I stand up abruptly.

Leaving the warm, lit café, we walk slowly towards the darkened streets where our vehicles are parked. He’s talking animatedly about plans to revamp my companies' processing technologies, but I’m not been listening — I'm trying very hard not to think about kissing him. The velvety stroke of tongues, the satin glide of lips, the delightful juxataposition of sharp teeth and soft skin.

No, I'm not thinking about that.

Not thinking about touching him, feeling his skin next to mine, silky warm. Soft caress of rough hands. The sinuous strength of his body arching up against mine, hard planes of his chest and curve of strong shoulders and biceps, and the shallow dip of hipbones that I'll want to map with my tongue.

*Fuck*.

Slow down, Yuy. Is he straight? Could he *even* be attracted to me?

This feeling of lust, of expectancy — it's been steadily creeping up on me the whole day. The longest foreplay I've ever had, exquisitely torturous in its uncertainity. And yet, the sweet promise of *possibility*, that this just *could* blossom...

"Chang." My voice is strained.

He turns around, a faint quizzical expression on his face.

There really is no way to say this without sounding incredibly stupid — so I won't. I take a step closer and his eyes widen, but he does not move away.

"Chang..." I step closer, so close I could smell the faint, spicy cologne he wears. He smells of heat and promise.

"...What?" He asks, silky tenor sandy with nervousness. "Yuy?"

Slowly, recklessly, I raise my hands, one hand cupping the side of his face while my left drops to his shoulder. His eyes are wide, pupils dilated in bewilderment. They're black, not dark brown as I thought, inky pools that beckon and entice, and I cannot resist.

His carriage is stiff but he does not react when I press my lips to his. Buoyed by this, my tongue slips out and traces the outline of his lips, gently at first, and then more insistently. His lips are soft and lax, with the barest taste of chocolate.

Delicious.

 

A faint shiver ripples through him and suddenly, he goes *rigid*. A hard shove and a clumsy stumble back, and I now find myself pinned against my car, arched back uncomfortably over the top of the hood.

His voice is low and shaking, hissing in anger. Dark eyes snapping with indignition. “What was that about, Yuy?”

I stare boldly at him, unfazed by the hand wrapped around my throat. He’s leaning so close to me that I could feel the hot puffs of his breaths against my face. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Chang reddens. “I’m not attracted to you—“

“I think the point is that I’m attracted to *you*.” My lips curl and I roll my hips sinuously against him, my erection leaving him no doubt as to the veracity of my statement. 

He’s struck speechless by my audacity. The hand around my throat falls away and Chang stumbles back, shaking his head. “Dammit Yuy… Look I’m flattered and all, but I’m not even gay!”

“Are you homophobic, Chang?” I ask dryly. Straightening up, I pad towards him, like a predator that had sighted its prey.

I may have compared Chang to a panther before, but all I could think of now was how much he looked like a spooked cat as he backs away until he hits his bike. One hand reaches out to clutch nervously at the handle. Eyes *huge* and shell-pink tongue flickering out to lick skittishly at parted lips. If he had a tail, it would have been fluffed like a brush.

“No, but I was married! I had a wife!”

“But you’re not now.” It *really* wasn’t the smartest thing to do now, but I couldn’t help leering.

“Hun dan!” Chang growls, appearing to recover some of his verve. Spinning around, he mounts his bike in a swift motion. Without bothering with his helmet, he guns the engine and speeds off.

“I’ll phone you!” I call after him, grinning. 

~

Slipping into my chair today, my mind still on the dinner and kiss the night before, I'm in a pretty upbeat mood. Sally left a stack of documents on my desk to look over — the Hamberg deal — but I push it away. Not important now.

Now, what's important...

I boot up my computer — I never leave it on when I'm not there; easiest way to hack into a computer is if one has console access — and start searching for information on Chang Wufei. After all, knowledge is power, and proper research is essential before embarking on any venture.

As a member of many statutory boards in Sanc, I have access to public databases, such as Sanc University's faculty and housing data. As I'm waiting for the download to my system to complete — while staring at a particularly fascinating picture of Chang that was on the official university record — the fax machine starts up.

Saving the picture; it wasn't a really good shot of him because he was frowning slightly and his glasses were askew but he looks kinda cute like that, I turn to my fax, which is still spitting out papers.

Page after page of detailed instructions about environmentally friendly processes, manufacturer's data sheets, installation procedures...

I frown. Then I smirk in understanding.

You're not getting away that easily, Chang. ---

When the information downloads are complete, I shut down my computer again and grab the sheaf of papers and my coat.

I make my way through the quiet hallways of the university science faculty buildings. I had to pass through the chemistry building on my way from the carpark to the biochemistry block, and my nose wrinkles at the metallic-chemical tang that hangs heavily in the air. Ice-makers and glass cabinets line the hallways, and I can hear the whine of fume cupboards within the labs.

The researchers' offices, I've noticed, are located beside the laboratories. I've also noticed that different laboratories have different smells. Not that unpleasant, though I did pass one organic laboratory — says so in block letters on the door — that seems to be dealing with ammonia.

It all seems... smells so unhealthy! And he can say that my factories are environmentally unfriendly?

The biochemistry building wasn't any better. The air here has more of a musty, sharp smell. Like yeast or mold.

I feel more than a bit queasy now. If I can smell it, does it mean the spores are in the air, in my lungs....

Finally, I locate Chang's lab. And it has to be on the fourth floor; the top floor. I wonder how they allocate — old, decrepit researchers on the ground floor and young, strapping ones who can climb on the top floor?

Mmm... speaking of strapping bodies...

Smirking and thinking naughty thoughts, I poke my head into Chang's lab. There are two guys in the lab — I assume they're his students. One is a blond, and the other, a tall brunette. Both are dressed in white coats and standing in front of the work tables, where experiments are clearly going on.

The blond turns to me with a questioning smile. "Are you looking for Dr Chang?"

"Yes. Is he in?"

"In his office." The blond points to an adjoining door and I nod my thanks.

Knocking once, I didn't bother to wait for an answer before I open the door and let myself in. Chang's head pops out from behind his computer monitor as I shut the door behind me.

"Yuy," he growls, brows knitting. "What are you doing here?"

In answer, I wave the stack of faxed papers.

"I faxed across clear instructions and suggestions," he sniffed. "You don't understand?"

I take my time to walk towards him, looking over his desk — and him — as I do so. His desk is the centerpiece of his office, an ergonomic curved shape with plenty of space to work. Like me, his desk is neat; filing cabinets and trays keep the paperwork in check. Unlike me, his desk contains a few personal touches — a tin of Chinese tea, a mug, a glass jar of brightly wrapped chocolate pieces, some curios that looked like puzzles, a small bonsai...

"Finished cataloging my desk yet?" Chang asks sarcastically.

"No," I answer with a grin, and look around idly.

Though small, his office appears quite spacious.  There are large windows that run along two walls, and a few potted plants line the window sill. The morning sun glides warm amber oblongs on the dull concrete flooring and the plants create interesting shadows. A book case takes up one entire wall and on the last remaining wall, there's a chinese scroll and a sword.

Chang even manages to squeeze in a small armchair beside the bookcase. Mm... The things you can do with padded furniture; I'd prefer a couch but an armchair is good too.

"Is there a reason you're here, Yuy?" Chang growls again in irritation. "Some of us do have work to do."

I turn to look at him, and then slowly, I spread the papers on his desk, a bland smile on my face. "Not all of us have doctorates in biochemistry."

He's dressed in a pressed navy shirt, sleeves rolled up to reveal toned forearms, and black jeans. I wonder if it's the same pair as the one he wore yesterday.

"I didn't write them for a fellow colleague, I wrote them so that an idiot can understand." Chang rolls his eyes. "I'm sure you can figure it out, Yuy."

"Then I must be an even bigger idiot than you thought." I tried to give my most retarded look — not that I actually have any retarded looks.

Sighing, Chang pushes up his metal-rims and starts to explain. As he talks, I sidle closer, moving towards the side of the desk where he sits. Chang stands up, still talking.

Curious, I take a mincing step closer. Chang moves a small step away.

Another shuffling step and I'm now right beside his swivel chair. Chang, by now, is on the other side of his desk. Though his voice is steady in full-lecturer mode, his eyes are cast downwards on the papers and the slight hunch of his shoulders scream his defensiveness.

Smirking evilly, I chase him — very slowly — as I make appropriate comments, occasionally even asking a pertinent question. Chang continues to shuffle away — bit by bit — even as he lectures on as if nothing is wrong.

Round and round, like a couple of idiots we dance around his desk.

As Chang's eyes remain glued downwards, I take the fantastic opportunity to ogle him. Lean muscles shifts and flexes beneath his clothes as he moves, and I mourn the thickness of the fabric that covers his latte-creamy skin. He'll look better in silk or satin, I decide, or nothing at all.

I wonder what happens if I do manage to catch him. The image burns in my mind and I'm suddenly feeling rather primal — I feel the urge to mark him, to show the world he's mine with lips and lots of tongue and some teeth. I wonder if he yips or whimpers when nipped... I wonder if he likes biting.

Oooga ooga.

Fuck. Chang has this uncanny ability to do this to me. I'm normally an urbane — all right cold, sometimes even unfeeling — fellow, but Chang has a tendency to bring out the animal in me.

After a few rounds around the maypole of his desk, I decide to call a stop to it.

"Chang. Stop. I do understand what you're saying but listen. Firstly, you're the expert so you're the best person to implement all these. Secondly, don't forget that I am under no obligation to do so."

Chang pauses, swallows and finally looks up at me, face carefully blank. "You're perfectly right. So. What do you want me to do?"

I raise a brow at that suggestive comment, and he blushes faintly. "Lots..."

He crosses his arms and glares at me hotly, practically daring me to say something lewd.

Grinning, I give him a break. "Why don't I bring you down to my plant. Introduce you to the foreman and you can start from there? Are you free now?"

His countenance still wary, Chang glances down at his watch. "...yes." ---

After introducing Chang to the foreman at my nearest factory — just a half-hour easy drive from the university in fact — I head back to the office. Ostensibly to do work, but I can't seem to keep my mind focused on business.

Chang's different from my past lovers. Well for one, nobody has ever rejected me — the name Yuy can do wonders when picking up people — but strangely, that just makes me want him all the more. Knowing that it won't be my name or my money that he's attracted to.

But more so than that, he dares to argue with me; he's not intimidated by me. And that's rare. Even Duo, confident beautiful Duo, acquiesces to me.

Is this a good idea? Chasing after Chang? It won't be easy, especially since Chang seems equally determined to run away. But I've got mulish patience and I've got a trump card.

Besides, I'm sure Chang feels the sparks between us too. My lips curl arrogantly. It's just a matter of time and effort.

It'll be my most expensive — and unusual — courtships. But I don't care. Chang's wrong on that count; it's not the money that interest me, it's the acquisition. It's a game, a hunt, a mission, and money's simply the most convenient means of keeping score.

Speaking of which...

I give Duo a call. I know what I was going to say; I'm not going to break up with Duo, not just yet, not until I know for sure Chang's interested. Always have a back-up.

I'm not going to string them, Duo or Chang, along — I believe in monagomy — but I also believe in hedging my bets.

But for now I'll just need to stall Duo for a bit.

Duo Maxwell is Not Here. He's off getting his Pretty Face photographed for Obscene Amounts of money at some Exotic Location so leave a message after the beep. Try not to drown in your drool. BEEP.

I hang up without leaving a message, smirking. This is very convenient. Now Duo'll be out of town for a few days at least.

I wonder how Duo'll react when I tell him. Will he cling on or will he just shrug? Relationships are dime-a-dozen, especially among the celebrity circle Duo moves about in.

Foolishness. I'm spending too much time obessing over my relationships. Especially when the other parties concerned are not even here.

Shaking my head and forcing my attention back to the present, I turn to the stack of documents on my desk with a determined frown. ---

The next morning, I give a call to Chang's lab. "Hello. Is Chang Wufei in?"

Yes he's in his office. Shall I divert you? Sounds like the blond from yesterday.

I pause, then smirk. "No, I wish to surprise him."

When I step into the lab a short while later, a rose in one hand and a small but expensive box of chocolates in my pocket, that cheeky blond smiles broadly. He's seated near the entrance of the lab and appears to be writing in a log book. The tall brunette isn't around.

"Are you dating Wufei?" He puts down his pen and asks boldly.

"What if I am?" I say noncommitally, taking my first proper look at the blond. He could be a potential ally — or not — in my pursuit of Chang.

"Then I'll warn you to be careful, Mr Yuy." The sunny smile abruptly hardens. When I raise an umimpressed brow, he continues. "I read the society papers, even if Wufei doesn't. I know your track record of lovers, and I know Duo Maxwell is your supposed boyfriend at the moment. What of him?"

"Duo and I have an open relationship." I shrug. That was one of my conditions. We're steady but not exclusive.

Cornflower-blue eyes steeled. "And your intentions towards Wufei? He is… he's not into casual relationships."

"I know he's not," I say quietly. Evasively.

"What do you want?" The blond asks bluntly and stands up in front of me. "If you're expecting some meaningless fling with Wufei, I will throw you out of the lab now."

'Will you?' The sneering challenge is at the tip of my tongue, but I restrain the temptation. My fingers rub absently at the soft petals of the rose, soft as Chang's lips.

What do I want? A fling? Something more?

Something tells me that it can be a lot more, with Chang Wufei.

"Frankly, I cannot promise anything. But—" and why do I even need to justify myself to this whelp? "—what I want with Chang Wufei is not what I have with Duo Maxwell. Do you know what I mean?"

He considers me thoughfully, arms crossed like a loyal guard between me and the entrance ot Chang's office. Finally, he shakes his head slightly and steps aside, turning back to his work. "Ch."

My respect for the blond goes up a notch.

I must be losing my touch — another person who isn't afraid of me.

Again I let myself in quietly, and again Chang looks up to glare at me. But he does not stand up but continues to type away at his computer. Probably hoping that if he ignores me, I'll go away like a bad smell.

A small grin tugs at my lips and I amble around his office, shamelessly looking around. He's getting used to me. The steady clacking of the keyboard is the only sound in the quiet office. Curious, I walk over to the window and look out. The campus grounds are quite deserted. "Summer break for the students?"

"Aa."

"So what have you done with my factory so far?"

"I'm sure Mr Ghemi will tell you."

"I'm sure he will too, but I want to know what you think."

A grunt. "I'll have the full report on your desk tommorrow."

"I don't need a written report." Walking over to the wall with the Chinese scroll, I peer at the creamy velum. Chinese is very similar to Japanese kanji; many words share the same meaning. Looks expensive and...

"Does this say... keep your room clean?" I blink. "You wrote this?"

"Yes. And no, my wife wrote it. She had an odd sense of humor."

"She must have been an interesting woman." My jaw isn't clenched. No, I'm not jealous of some dead female.

"She was." The clacking noises stop. "Yuy..."

"Chang..." I drawl, turning to pad towards him. With a dramatic flourish I'm actually a little embarassed of, I place the rose in front of him.

"Come out for lunch with me today."

His eyes widen comically.

"Just lunch, Chang," I add sincerely.

Suspicious eyes flickers derisively to the rose and he scowls darkly. "I'm not some female to be courted with dead vegetation."

Miscalculation: perhaps I should have brought a potted live plant for my environmentalist instead.

"My mistake," I remark ruefully and I take out the box of chocolates. "Shall I court you with food instead?"

Chang flushes angrily. "Are you mocking me?"

"Never." My tone becomes serious for a moment. "Chang, you know that I want you. But you also know that I'm always honest with you. I'm not playing some mind-game with you — I just want to get to know you better. I want you to know me better."

"Yuy..." He eyes me suspiciously. "Of all the possible people in Sanc... Why me?"

My head tilts slightly as I study him, puzzled. He was gorgeous, smart, and more than all that, he has something that just arrests my attention. "Why not?"

His breath huffs out exasperatedly. "Yuy, I'm heterosexual. That sort of reduces your odds to—" he circles his thumb and forefinger. "Don't waste your time."

"You're a scientist, Chang. You should know there's no absolute." My lips quirk and I lean back against his desk. "An open-minded guy I know, who has, to my knowledge, never been with another guy, said, 'It's not that I'm straight. It's that I've never met another guy I'm attracted to.'"

"Your point being that you think you can convince me, Yuy?" Chang snorts sardonically, crossing his arms as he tilts back in his chair to look up at me. Hm. I quite like this view. "Yuy, ego. Ego, Heero Yuy."

"Of course," I say matter-of-factly. "I'm gorgeous, brillant and rich."

He gives a sudden bark of laughter. "God, you're hilarious Yuy."

"That too," I flash him a grin — even though I had been perfectly serious. "Come on, Chang. It's only lunch."

"All right. You're persistent." Chang complains with a hint of petulance. Then he sits upright and pushes me away from his desk. "Now get lost. I've work to do."

Tempting heat where his hand touches my hips through the thin fabric of my pants and sulky thrust of his lip, and it's not my fault I just had to lean down to brush my lips against his.

A ghosting touch, almost familiar in its easiness. So sweet too, the way his eyes widen and his breath hitches, just so.

Smirking, I stand up and saunter away. "I'll pick you up at eleven-thirty. Dear."

"Don't pick me up! It's not—" His yell trails off to a frustrated expletive when I close the office door behind me.

"YUY!"

The blond gives me the evil eye on my way out. ---

I brought him a small potted plant the next day — a prickly catus because that just reminded me of him — and another box of chocolates. And the next day after that, and day after that, until he now has an impressive row of small pots lining his window sill — cacti and flowering plants and plump leafy ones and trailing vines — and a growing stack of little multi-colored boxes of chocolates on his bookshelf.

The Tottering Tower, the blond informed me too cheerily. One such box sits half-eaten and open on the benchtop, sandwiched between a thick manual and a pipette carousel.

Tower of Yuy, the brunette postgrad chipped in solemnly. Turned out that those two are Chang's postgraduate students and, oh they love chocolates too.

Yuy's Folly, I don't hope.

We go out almost everyday, for a meal, and occasionally even for a show. For a 'peaceful' environmentalist, he has quite a violent streak — I was surprised and delighted to learn that he enjoy martial art movies like me.

And yet, for all my so-called progress, I still feel like I've not moved any. Every step I take towards him, it seems like he's taking one step back. He doesn't run away, but he's not allowing me near as well. Every touch, every kiss I manage to steal from him — it's just that; taken and not given.

I stare morosely at the row of small potted plants — it's my personal goal to get him into bed before the pots reach the other end of the sill and it's already three-quarters there. The evening sun casts amber halos around the plant silhouettes.

Chang is out in his lab, finishing up some experiments. I had made myself comfortable on his armchair, laptop on my lap, while I wait for him. My window is still opened to Duo's latest email where he happily informs me that he'll be back next week.

Damn.

I need…

I need something to break the stalemate between us. This is all very comfortable; the meals, the easy conversation, but I'm going to need something else to jack whatever it is between us to the next level.

Plans form and are discarded just as quickly in my head as I call up the information — all encrypted of course — I've dug up about Chang.

I need something that will break us out of this comfort zone, and it is too comfortable for him because I'm not really pushing him. He's running and I'm allowing him to run.

Preferably something that will get the two of us out of town for a while. I find that being displaced from one's usual environment tends to have a parallel effect of drawing people from their often self-imposed barriers, forcing them to re-examine themselves.

Perhaps a trip? But what would draw Chang away? What would make him agree to go on a trip with me?

And then, I found it.

~

"Yuy!"

My office door bangs open and Chang strides in wrathfully, a piece of paper crumpled in one fist. "What is the meaning of this?"

Behind him, Sally quietly closes the door, an amused smirk on her face.

"What do you mean?" I keep my voice modulated, a similar amused smirk playing on my lips.

"You know what I mean," Chang snarls, waving the piece of paper. "This... notice! Telling me that my family's land in China is being bought over by a certain WingCorp!"

"Oh, that." I shrug and lean back, the padded leather creaking slightly. "Yes, well, WingCorp occasionally does land acquisition."

"Land. Acquisition." Chang's eyes narrows dangerously. "Whatever for?"

"Business. Sometimes to build upon, sometimes because a competitor has his eye on it, sometimes to hold onto and sell again at a later date because of the value of the land..." I explain matter-of-factly.

Sometimes as bait, I think silently.

"How could you? I thought you..." Chang trails off, flushing lightly. I thought you like me, I could fill in smugly. Point to me. Changing track, he asks again. "Did you know I own this?"

"No," I lied. "I accquired a large tract of land in that area — I did not know it included your land."

Standing up, I slid around my desk, planting one hand on the surface as I lean towards him. We're so close; I can feel the stiffness of his body as he tenses up.

"Why, did you think that I would give you special treatment because of my interest in you?" I tease, allowing my voice to lower seductively.

"Yes... No!" His blush deepens adorably. "I mean, um..."

Quick as a striking snake, I plant my other hand on the desk on his other side, trapping him against my desk. So close I can feel the heat of his body; if I lean in a bit more, we would have been touching. Tempting — sinfully, delightfully tempting — but I keep my distance. Sometimes the promise, the imagination, could be a far better seductive technique than any action.

"You mean...?"

Chang's position surely can't be comfortable, back arched back against my desk like this. Beneath me, I can see/feel the faint trembling in his taut muscles. Shit, and that calls to mind an image of him, on my desk, bowed and quivering under me.

"I mean... that this isn't the best way to... enamor yourself with...Yuy, could you possibly move back?"

It's really, really delicious to see this normally self-assured, gorgeous creature blushing and stuttering, and I really, really shouldn't be enjoying this as much as I am.

"No," I answer simply with a vulpine grin.

I decide that he really couldn't be comfortable in this position so I abruptly pushed him down onto my desk. Already off-balanced, Chang lands sprawled out, his temple catching at the corner of my computer monitor.

"The hell?" Chang barks, shifting to get up but I don't give him a chance. I hold his wrists with my hands and pin my body on top of his. "Yuy!"

Pulling his wrists above his head in a swift motion, I capture both with one hand and bring my free hand to rub at his temple. "Sorry. Does this hurt?"

My soft tone and surprising action throws him for a few moments, and he stares up at me, stunned. But he recovers quickly and suddenly I find myself flipped on my back, in his position.

"Dammit Yuy! I'm serious!" Chang snarls in my face, a furious wolf to my teasing fox. "How can you be so... so uncaring? So indifferent? The natural environment is a beautiful, scared gift; why must you despoil it?"

"Advancement is unavoidable—" I say, knowing it would rile him.

"—not at the expense of the environment! Surely there are methods that—"

"—those are less efficient, less—"

"Bullshit, and you know it!" Chang leans closer unconsciously, heated breath ghosting over my face, and my breath hitches. We're now face to face and, well, other things to other things. When had I lost control of the situation? And, why am I not worried?

"It's all numbers! An environmentally friendly process that uses solar energy is perhaps say twenty percent less efficient as compared to one that uses fossil fuels, but that's because you're starting from the wrong baseline. When you add in the cost that went into the making of the fossil fuel, I daresay solar energy is more efficient because energy is not lost along the way in the manufacture of the fossil fuel. But that's not the point — the point is, even if it is less efficient, or more expensive, surely the extra cost, be it monetary or otherwise, is worth it!"

"No, I don't know! I don't know how it is worth it!"

Chang looks taken aback at my frustrated tone, and I'll have to admit I took myself by surprise too. We're know, intellectually, where the other stand, but emotionally, we're still on different levels. I still do not see it from his point of view.

"Show me," I say suddenly.

"What?" He asks, confused.

"Show me what you mean. Show me why it is worth it."  It occurs to me that this was a brillant turn of conversation — after all, wasn't my original plan to take him away?

I'm on a roll. "Bring me to China — to the land I just bought from you. Show me why."

"What?" Chang repeats, a lot more feebly this time.

I nod decisively. "I'm free this weekend. Luckily I've a private jet so we don't have to worry about tickets. How's your schedule?"

Realizing that he's still on top of me, I casually wrap my arms around his waist.

Chang scowls. "I'm not going anywhere with you!"

"Why not?"

"Because you're a prevert." At this point, our positions hit him. Pink chases across his cheeks, and he scrambles off hastily. I let him go reluctantly, allowing my hands to trail down the curve of his butt and side of his hips, and his flush deepens in anger.

"And that's why I'm not going with you!"

"Chang, you know that I can't do anything to you that you don't really want." I sit up, running a hand through my hair in a furtile attempt to neaten it. "We're the same size and you're stronger than I am. You're in absolutely no danger of getting raped by me."

As expected, the jab at his strength, or masculinity, hits home. His scowl becomes darker but he has no easy rebuttal. I have to hide my smirk — he's truly an innocent. Seduction does not require strength.

"Convince me, Chang," I say again disarmingly. "Show me why you do what you do. Show me what drives you."

I can feel him weakening.

"Chang, if you can convince me, the land is yours." I can see the exact moment he succumbs at that promise. "I'll call off the sale."

"You will?" He asks suspiciously.

When I nod, smiling, he shakes his head in defeat. "I must be crazy but..."

"I'll pick you up on Saturday morning." -----

Saturday morning — very early morning — finds me outside Chang's apartment door. I press the doorbell and wait.

And wait. And ring again.

I hear a curse, muffled by the door, and then the click of a latch. The door swings open to reveal a deliciously rumpled looking Chang, clad only in loose white pants that hang so low on his hips I can see the line of very fine, dark hair that starts just below his sexy navel and goes down right to.. god, his morning erection that's tenting the white fabric…

The jerk of fabric breaks my concentration and I look up to see a dark — if somewhat myopic —scowl. Chang pulls his pants up, cheeks flushed in mortification, and tightens the drawstring self-conciously. His hair is unbound and cascades over his shoulders in silken wings.

I grin, staring unabashedly. Chang crosses his arms defensively over his bared chest, faint goosebumps rising all over his tawny skin in the nippy dawn air.

"What the fuck are you doing here at—" he glances down, forgetting that he wasn't wearing a watch, and scowls harder "—this time?"

"I said I'll pick you up, didn't I?" I reply cheerily.

"The sun isn't even up yet," he says testily.

"It is." Sort of, if you can count that sliver of amber that's peeking over the horizon as 'dawn.' I push the door wider and step through. I toe off my shoes and push them with a foot beside the shoe rack by the door.

Chang stares at me muzzily, obviously too sleepy still to come up with a proper retort. He settles for stalking back to his room in a huff, slamming his door petulantly. Almost as an afterthought, the lock clicks shut.

Restraining the urge to snicker, I sit down on the lounge to wait. Truth be told, I did this on purpose. I yawn and change my mind, standing up. If I sit down, I'll probably fall asleep.

It is an ungodly hour but for some reason, I enjoy pushing Chang's buttons and seeing him irritated. It is strange and even childish, like pulling a girl's pigtails at the playground, and I've never felt this way towards any of my past lovers. But something about Chang makes it irresistible. Maybe it's the way he reacts; like tickling a sleeping dragon. Or maybe I'm just regressing, in which case, I blame that on sexual frustration.

I have this sudden image of me pulling Chang's thick and long pigtail.

A glance at my watch — perhaps I should make myself useful. Make breakfast or something. I walk into his kitchen, a small room tiled in orange and ocher. White cabinets, and gleaming black countertops, in the center of the counter, a magnificent ebony and steel centerpiece. An expresso machine.

I can see where his priorities lie.

Feeling strangely domestic, strange because Heero Yuy is never domestic, I rummage through his cabinets and fridge. Peering into Chang's fridge is rather interesting — Chang obviously eats a lot of greens and are those still growing sprouts? I poke my head further in and when a sudden hard slap lands on my backside, I yelp, almost knocking my head against the cold shelves.

"Chang!" I stare at him, eyes wide in shock, and close the fridge door. Did he just touch me on my ass? Ok, so it was a slap, but it was a voluntary touch, and more importantly, it was on my ass.

"That was for waking me up at such an unresonable hour." Chang yawns widely and pads across to the expresso machine. He turns and grins fuzzily at me, still sleepy and uninhibited. He had changed out into a pair of faded indigo jeans and a tight black T-shirt, hair pulled back in a loose tail at the nape. His feet are still bare and I catch a glimpse of graceful ankles.

My knees abruptly feel weak and I sit down heavily on a chair. I have never seen this side of Chang before and it's …delightful. I grin back. "I should wake you up more often then, if that the kind of reception I get."

"Hm? You like getting spanked?" He asks guilelessly. I bite my tongue to hold my reply to that innuendo. He turns and pulls open a drawer. "Do you want a cup of coffee too?"

I've never played those games with my lovers before but at his words, and the image that conured up, I find myself hardening. Perhaps, I think hungrily. Somehow, I'm quite sure he's too sleepy to realize what he had just said. Clearing my throat, I say aloud, "Yes, please."

"Sugar? Creamer?" He plonks two cups on the metal grille.

"Black will suffice." I admire his lithe grace as he moves about silently, opening drawers to take out glass containers of coffee beans and sugar and creamer, and sliding them close with a bump of hip.

Warm pinkish amber rays slant into the kitchen, painting a homely picture.

"Do you need any help?" I feel obliged to ask.

Chang shakes his head. "No need. Better that I do it; you wouldn't know where I keep my stuff. Have you eaten yet?"

When I shake my head, he proceeds to cook a simple breakfast of eggs and toasted bagels. His movements are efficient, though a little sleepier and slower than usual; I find myself entranced by his languid grace. There's just something so sensual, yet homely, about eating breakfast with a lover — or potential lover. Something about the quiet pre-dawn stillness before the rest of the city wakes up.

Something about the hint of having stayed together through the night.

Chang himself seems to be less defensive, wary. As he sits down, the food he prepared heaped on plates between us, our eyes catch and he suddenly gives a small smile. A languorous, warm feeling spreads through me.

"Have I prepared enough? How's the eggs?" He asks self-consciously, pushing a stray wisp of hair behind his ear. He hadn't put on his glasses or contacts yet, and he blinks owlishly at me.

"It's great," I complement sincerely. Gorgeous, sexy and he cooks. Chang's a keeper. "And it's too much food. I normally don't each so much in the mornings."

"You should." Chang shakes his head disapprovingly as he proceeds to spoon more scrambled egg onto my plate. "Breakfast is the most important meal of the day!"

"Chang!" I stare at the mountain of egg on my plate, wondering if it's considered too rude to spoon some of it back.

"Eat up, Yuy. It's not a lot." Chang smiles sweetly at me. "There're bagels too. Do you prefer butter, cream cheese or jam on them?"

I open my mouth to protest further but catch sight of the steely glint in his eyes and change my mind. Sighing, I slowly make my way through breakfast. I feel ...domesticated. Heel Yuy! Sit down Yuy! Roll over and show me your tummy Yuy!

Well, look on the bright side; I'm spending more time with Chang. -----

Chang is suitably impressed as we board my personal plane, a nifty white craft with blue stripes. It's small but fast; the best non-military plane money can buy. Only one pilot is required and it can seat a total of five comfortably.

"You can store your bags in the compartment on the right," I inform him as I buckle myself in. My luggage had already stowed securely on board last night, in the large boxes that are bolted down to the floor at the rear of the plane. I start the plane as he puts away his bags.

"Do you fly often?" Chang asks curiously over the whine of the engines. He buckles himself in the seat beside me and looks the cockpit with wide eyes. The plane is quite spacious, especially since there are only two of us, and the seats are luxuriously upholstered, with generous leg and headroom. There's even a small bar and pantry behind the seating area.

"Aa. At least once or twice a month."

"It's odd. Not that you have a plane — I'm sure you're rich enough — but that you fly it yourself. I would have thought you'd have a pilot." Chang turns around, looking out the window as we taxied down the runway.

"Mm. Why hire someone else to handle the pleasure of flying? Also, I'm a control freak." I grin widely. As the asphalt falls away below us, I can practically feel the tension draining from my shoulders. "I like driving — I like anything that involves gadgets and all sorts of electronic equipment — and I particularly enjoy the freedom of flying. It's great fun, don't you think?"

I wave my hand, indicating the impressive array of lights and buttons and switches. Chang laughs.

"Sometimes I think, if I weren't a businessman, I would like to be a pilot."

"A commerical pilot?" Chang asks doubtfully. "Somehow I cannot imagine you as one…"

"No, a fighter pilot," I confess. It was a childhood fancy of mine. I set the plane on autopilot and check the weather report again. Perfect.

"Didn't you just say you're a control freak? How would you survive in a military environment?"

I consider the question thoughtfully as I unbuckle myself. "I do like control, true, but I can take orders too. I like order and a regular regime; to me, it is one form of control."

Chang pauses for a moment, gazing thoughtfully at me. "You're right. I can see you in a military environment. I think you would make an excellent soldier; you certainly have the discipline for it. Not a common foot soldier, because I think you'll be wasted in such a position, but an elite one."

I didn't try to conceal my pleased surprise at his praise. Under his steady attention, I feel extremely and wonderfully sensitive; my skin practically tingling. "I never knew you thought so highly of me…"

"I had never thought you were stupid or incompetent, Yuy. I have the highest respect for your abilities." Chang unbuckles himself and faces me squarely, his expression sincere. A small grin tugs at his lips. "You can be a bastard at times though."

"I'm hurt! What did I do, or didn't I do?" I protest, enjoying this playful side of him. "I sent you gifts — am I not thoughful?"

"Gifts are nothing!' Chang snorts, jabbing me lightly in my chest. "You also made… tricked me along on this trip," Chang said archly. He shook his head slightly and crossed his arms with a sigh. "And I was an idiot not to have realized it earlier."

"You don't seem to be protesting much." I feel obliged to point out. I shift into a relaxed slouch, facing him.

"Well, it's been some time since I visited China…" Chang smirks.

"I feel used. Taken advantage of." I gave a sad sniff.

"Of course. You're rich."

"Taken in by a pretty face…"

"Hey! I'm not pretty—"

I smirk, nodding. "Very pretty." Gorgeous, I think silently and leered openly.

"Girls are pretty! I'm a guy!" Chang scowls at me, patting his tail self-consciously. "Just because I've long hair…!"

"I wasn't thinking about your hair —  but it is pretty too. And why can't guys be pretty?"

"Because… because it's an adjective to describe females!" Chang splutters, cheeks pinking in embarassment. "Guys… are not pretty!"

"I never knew you're sexist, Chang. Such terms should be able to descibe either gender," I scold, wagging my finger at him. Gods; I haven't had this much fun in years.

Chang is definitely warming towards me.

~

I look down at the tent — my tent. I don't believe it. I've never slept in a tent before. And now I'm suppose to pitch my own tent??

The yellow — yellow! — synthetic fabric is carefully laid out and the aluminium poles are stacked neatly by my foot. I can see the narrow tunnels in nylon where the poles are obviously supposed to go through and the metal-reinforced holes for the ropes, but what are those open flaps for and...

"You have no idea how to set up a tent, do you?" Chang asks flatly. I turn to glare at him, noting with irritation that in the few minutes it took me to lay out my tent, he had already got his red tent up.

"I..." My voice trails off as I look down at the tent again. I didn't even know I had a tent! When Chang asked me, I stupidly looked at the rear of my plane where the emergency supplies were packed. Damn. I should have said no and then Chang would have to share his tent with me.

Damn.

If I admit I don't know how to set it up, he'll do it for me. But that's mortifying...

"God, Yuy! I can believe you had never set up a tent, but I can't believe you didn't ask me for help. Now watch!" Chang crouches down, taking one of the longer poles and threading it through the flaps.

I squat down sullenly beside him.

"'Do you know how to set up this type of tent?' I asked. 'No problem, Chang,' you said. Confidently I might add." Chang shakes his head as he deftly works the poles through.

"Well, it looked easy," I add defensively.

"It is easy," Chang drawls. Then he does something, pushing the poles up and together and suddenly the fabric tightens and the tent... springs up. I blink like an idiot.

"It's a pop-up tent. Kids can set this up," Chang throws me an amused look and I find myself flushing darkly. "Ok, now you do the flysheet. I'll help you with the ropes after that."

"What's that?" I ask before I could catch myself.

Chang breaks out in a peal of laughter. "Oh man! You had never even gone camping before right? No wonder you looked so flummoxed when I announced that we were camping out. Were you expecting, perhaps, some five-star hotel?"

"Of course not!" I shot back weakly. Three-star maybe; I figured there wouldn't be a five-star hotel in this rural area, but...

Chang gives me a knowing look. "Right. Yuy, there's no hotel around here for miles! The nearest village is about seventy miles from here! When you bought this land, didn't you realized what the term 'nature reserve' means?"

"Uncivilized?" I joked with a sinking heart.

When we landed at the small airport — more like a flattened strip of land and a one-storey building with a phone and toilet beside it — Chang had called someone and a while later, a Chinese man came with a battered jeep. It turned out to be a rental service number. The man left the jeep with us and cycled back to …whereever his office is, if he has one.

I realized then that I was perhaps a little out of my depth here...

"That's so, so sad." Chang shakes in snickering laughter. His voice still rippling with suppressed amusment, he stands up, gathers the remaining piece of fabric — a thin sheet of nylon — and fastens it to the top of the tent. "Now this is called the flysheet. Its purpose is to keep the tent dry if it should rain..."

Chang, I'd decided some time back, is taking way too much enjoyment in my suffering. He seems moral and decent, with all his environmentalist attitude and nerdy glasses, but he can be really sadistic.

I stare morosely at my mess-tin, a rectangular aluminium pot I'd found in the same box of emergency supplies, in which I somehow managed to ruin my dinner.

"How can anyone ruin instant noodles?" Chang rolls his eyes and flips the omlette. Chang the oh-so-great backwoodsman, on the other hand, had cooked rice — rice! without a rice-cooker! — some creamy soup, an omlette with meat and onions, and some stir-fry dish. The delicious aromas wafts to me and my mouth waters.

"Shut up." I didn't think we'll be cooking! The couple of packets of instant noodles I brought were meant to be snacks if I should get hungry at night — all hotels rooms have a kettle. That, and a packet of chips. I'm going to die of starvation out here.

"I mean, it's foolproof! Just add hot water and the seasoning packets!"

And I won't be the only dead body. I'll take Chang down with me for making fun of me. I stab savagely at the congealed mess in my mess-tin. Stab, stab, stab. He's...

"Here."

...an angel. I look up at him in surprise, hands automatically clutching the plate of rice.

"You're lucky I brought extra," Chang muttered as he sat down beside me. He cuts the omlette in two and places half on my plate. "But I think I have to go down town to get more food tommorrow."

"There's a town?" I reach hungrily for the stir-fry vegetables, trying not to sound too hopeful.

"There's a town. There's a grocery store, a post-office, a hair-salon even, but no hotel."

I would retort to his sly dig but my mouth is full of food.

"How's the food?" Chang asks absently as he stirs the soup. It's from a can, with minute bits of brown stuff that's supposed to be mushrooms. However, he somehow found some wild mushrooms and edible herbs, so right now, it looks really good. Large chunky pieces float in the soup and I can smell the musky scent of real mushroom soup.

"Tasty."

Chang glances up at my purr and hungry stare at him, and casts his eyes back down again. His hand tightens slightly around the ladle in mild annoyance, like the warning flick of a feline ear.

"What?" I blink innocently. But I decide not to press my luck — since he's the chef — and turn my attention back to my dinner.

Chang had went down to the river to get some water and, for the oddest reason, told me to sit on the ground in front of our tents. "Relax and look at the sunset," he said. "Enjoy it."

I stare in puzzlement at the sun, now halfway past the horizon line. He obviously wanted me to see something; maybe there is a natural phenomenon when the sun sets in this part of the world? I squint a bit. Hm. The colors, pink and purple and orange, were interesting… sort of…

My cellphone rings and I immediately whip it out of my pocket in reflex. "Yuy."

Heero! I'm baack!

"Back where?" I ask in confusion. Duo?

Back in Sanc! How about dinner tonight? I feel like Italian—

"Sorry, I'm out of town," I interrupt brusquely.

Whoa. Rotten luck.

"Yeah." Not, I think, and keep an eye out for Chang. "I'll call you when I get back. Why don't you go out with some other friends instead?"

Ok. Some smooching sounds and a low purr. Is that Chang heading back? Hey, where are you now?

"China." Damn; it is. "Sorry about this Duo, but I've got to go. I'll call you when I get back."

Byeee!

 I quickly flip my phone shut. Then I flip it open again and turn it off, and flip the cover close again. I most certainly do not need Duo calling now.

"Is that a business call?" Chang demands crossly and he puts the pails of water down.

I hold up my hands defensively. "I turned it off!"

"Good," he says approvingly. "I think you work too hard, Yuy. You should learn to relax and take it easy."

"What? Like pitching a tent and cooking dinner, inefficiently I might add, over a wood fire?" I snark back irritably.

"Yes!" He smiles angelically but the devlish gleam in his eyes warns me. "And now we shall wash dishes. It's a very zen-like experience, like a cleansing of metaphoric dirt—"

"Lovely, I'm sure. In fact, far be it for me to lessen your zen-like experience…"

Chang leans in towards me, smirk widening and my voice falters. Damn! This is unfair — he knows how he affects me! Especially when he looks down at me through heavily-lidded bedroom eyes, and drawls in that smoky voice of his, "But we'll wash the dishes later. Now, I want to look at the sunset."

…huh?

He sits down cross-legged beside me in a graceful motion, which again distracts me. Dressed in loose fatigues, a black tank-top and incongruous heavy boots, he's been distracting me the whole day. Everytime he stretches or crouches down and the baggy fabric pulls taut over a firmly rounded ass or broad shoulders, hugging the contours of his thighs and knees; I swear I am this close to jumping him and…

"Stop staring at me Yuy and enjoy the sunset instead." Chang's tone is curt. He looks away, cheeks flushing and forehead furrowing.

"It's just a sunset." I raise a quizzical brow. "It happens everyday."

"Mmm." Chang closes his eyes and takes a couple of deep breaths. "I know."

"So?" I watch him in fascination. Watching as he inhales and sighs, tension visibly bleeding from the hard lines of his shoulders and tightness around his eyes.

"Nothing. I just like it." He gives a small smile, eyes opening in a half-lidded gaze. "It's hard to watch a good sunset over Sanc. Too much smog in the air and too many buildings ruining the skyline."

I turn my attention away reluctantly. "So. Do you find it different, as compared to a sunset over Sanc?"

"Do you?" A quiet murmur.

I stare hard at the pinks and purples, trying to see what Chang sees. The sky changes rapidly in a myriad of colors, the warm vermillion hues soon blurring into cooler violets.

"Maybe," I whisper finally.

~

One thing I'm learning on this trip — I belong to a city. All these macho camping shit is not for me.

I curl up more tightly, shivering uncontrollably at the cold. All I had was a thin sleeping bag; hardly any protection against the cold. I swear, even though the sleeping bag is supposed to be water-resistant and it's not raining, the ground feels damp. And cold.

A strangled yelp hisses through my lips as a muscle spasms and twists in my right calf. Fuck! I rub it down furiously and in time, the knot loosens and the muscle relaxes.

I'm cold and uncomfortable. Even a bit hungry. But what is overwhelming is the cold; my teeth are actually chattering and my fingers feel like sticks of ice. Actually, on second thought, that’s good — now my nose, I can’t feel.

This is it. This is absolutely the limit. I can stand to lose a finger or two, but I’m fairly sure I need my nose.

I unzip the bag and scramble up, pulling the bag up around my shoulders — coldcoldit'sfrickingcold!! — and run out of my tent. I practically tumble into Chang's tent, pausing only to zip up the flap, before falling onto Chang.

"Wha— Yuy!" Chang bolts upright in shock, eyes wild. “The fuck?!”

I unzip his bag and slip in, ignoring his outraged splutters as wonderful heat registers. "Ahhh... You're so warm." My arms and legs immediately wrap around him, sucking on his lovely, lovely heat and holding him captive — convenient things, sleeping bags — and I nuzzle my frozen nose in his neck. He's a furnace!

Bliss.

"Yuy!" Chang screeches like a banshee as I dig my icy fingers under his sweater.

"I'm cold. The sleeping bag you gave me is not working," I complain.

"What are you talking about? Don't touch me!" Chang yells back, squirming like a netted fish. "And get out! Out!"

"No." I clutch in closer. "Shhhh, relax. I won't try anything tonight, promise. Besides, isn't it better to share body heat this way?"

Chang twists his head and eyes me balefully.

"Please?"

He purses his lips tightly and I suppress a grin. He's caving. The theatrical l shiver I give was not wholly feigned.

Suddenly, it just struck me that his hair is unbound and that he's not wearing his glasses, and I sort of regret my promise. He looks utterly ravishable; hair mussed and eyes dark and heavily-lidded with sleep.

"You had better not try anything," Chang growls grumpily and settles back down again, turning away. That had the very unfortunate effect of placing his bum right in front of my crotch, but I see no need to tell him that.

"Not tonight," I repeat sincerely. Maybe next morning, I think with a leer. "Good night."

The first thing that registers is the warmth in front of me. Chang, I realize muzzily. Then the cold of the ground beneath intrudes rudely, with that uncomfortable hint of dampness even through the waterproof fabric of the tent and sleeping bag. The hardness of the ground beneath me, a numb ache in my shoulder and a crick in my neck. The lack of feeling in my toes. The odd juxtaposition of warmth on my front and cold on back, the uncomfortable restriction as if I got tangled up in my blanket during the night. Some chirps and whistles and other sounds I'm unaccustomed to hearing, all telling me that I am most definitely not in Sanc.

Then something most important registers again. Chang in my bed. Ok, so it was technically his sleeping bag, but still. I crack open my eyes.

He is still asleep. Somehow, he had turned in the night and is now facing me. His head is pillowed on a bent arm, his other arm draped over my hip. Our legs are entangled, his thigh between mine and pressed distractingly upwards, a slim, sinewy column of muscle, firm and smooth. My own leg is trapped between his as well, and I can feel his erection digging into my right hip, hot and turgid.

I wriggle yet closer, shifting my hands until they lay flat against his waist. Chang gives a mumble and shifts, a slight rocking movement of hips as he attempts to detangle his leg, and fuck. My breath hisses out in a low groan at the innocent movement, fingers tightening unconsciously over his waist. His sweater has rode up during the night, exposing a tantalizing swath of smooth, tanned skin and… oh. My thumb brushes over his navel and he squirms slightly with a ticklish huff.

He feels absolutely delectable in my arms, heavy and solid and so, so warm. I give another squeeze and Chang purrs, his own arms tightening around my hips.

Compared to Duo, or my past lovers, he is more muscular. But it is a lean, compact sort of muscularity, not the awkward bulk of bodybuilders; the kind that is firm but not knot-rigid. I know Chang works out — he runs, bikes, and does some martial arts — and I think he's probably very flexible too.

...and now that I have that image in my mind.

I am a successful businessman because I know a great opportunity when I see one, and more importantly, I grab it when I see it. And now, looking down at Chang's slightly parted lips, pink and soft, and oh so close...

They feel soft. Normally sensuously thin, they are now slightly pouty from sleep. I feel Chang's lashes flutter ticklishly against my cheek, his eyes opening, pupils dilated and muzzy, but he doesn't push me away. Instead, he gives a lazy smile and licks my lips. When my mouth opens in surprise, his tongue darts in.

And when I'm still reeling from that surprise, he pushes me back and just slithers on top of me. God, Chang doesn't merely kiss, he fucks with his mouth, mapping territory and staking claim. His tongue sweeps over my lips and teeth, tangles with mine and captures it, leisurely and confidently. Warm hands range over my torso, down my sides and under my sweater, and all the while, he keeps up this undulating motion that rocks his groin against mine, and I can feel the delicious slide of skin against bare skin where my sweater had rode up and the frustrating catch of his pants against mine.

My god. Sex god. Chang, that is.

Yeah.

The touch of his lips and skin against mine leave me weak. And incoherent. I can hardly believe this is happening. When he starts nibbling on my lower lip, I sink my hands into his hair with a defeated groan. Still slightly fuzzy from sleep, I can't think—

God! His fingers—!

Twisted and pinched delicately, my nipples never felt so sensitive. Fiery pleasure streaks between my chest and groin, and oddly enough, tingling all the way down to my toes. It was almost too much, too fast, but still I arch up with a whimper, desperate for more, nails raking Chang's back through his shirt. And when he tugs, the sudden pain pushes all the sensations to a peak; I give a few more rabbit-fast thrusts and came with a muffled yell.

His dry humping becomes faster, harder, jerkier, and I watch in satiated fascination, the aftershocks of my release still thrumming through me. His hair, unbound and wild, cascades over his shoulder and back, and his eyes are closed, his lashes looking long and dark in the dim morning light. He looks fey, unreal. Like Odyssey’s siren.

Chang's hands slide down to grip my butt and I rock back obligingly. It wasn't long — too short in fact — before he climaxes with quiet grunt.

The tent is very quiet. Outside, an unconcerned bird chirps on. Chang pants, little tremors heaving his shoulders as he buries his head in the crook of my neck and nuzzles like a cat.

Me, I'm grinning beatifically as I wrap my arms possessively around him. I've no idea what brought that on, but I always knew it was only a matter of time before he succumbed. After a few moments, when his breathing has calmed down, I venture a light-hearted quip. "I think, no I'm sure you'll be quite the animal in bed, Chang."

My hand slips under his sweater, rubbing in small circles over the warm skin on his back, ever so slightly damp with his exertion.

"Chang?" I twist my head to look at him.

He fell asleep?!

Or had he even woken up in the fist place? He had better not deny this, not when he had been such an enthusiastic participant. Snorting wryly, I push him off me and settle into a more comfortable position beside him, well, as comfortable as I could with drying cum and twisted clothing. As I drift back to sleep, an unsettling thought occurs to me.

Just now...

Damn it! I can feel my cheeks flushing hotly. I have never— I will not be the uke in our relationship!

~

The feel of Chang stirring restlessly wakes me up again. I had only been dozing lightly, and easily came fully awake between one blink and the next.

Eyes still closed, Chang mutters choice expletives as he attempts to detangle himself. I can tell he isn't having much success. As much as I would like to prolong the intimacy, the feel of semi-dried cum is pretty gross and I quickly unzip my side of the sleeping bag. Before I could get out though—

"What..." I wince at the ominous tone, both in speech and his sudden stillness. It's like the heavy calm just before a typhoon hits, when the barometer's dropping and everything's just pregnant and heavy with…

"The fuck?"

I blow out a breath. Close my eyes. Well, hmm. What to do now.

Open my eyes. I turn to face him, a blithe smile on my face. "Good morning sunshine."

Dark brows gathered like storm clouds. Not good. Not good at all. Well, in for a penny…

I try for 'hurt'. "You don't remember?"

"Remember what?" Chang said carefully. "I remember you coming into my tent last night. But…" Face frowning, he scrambles out of the sleeping bag. He pauses, stares at the evidence, for want of a better term, and just…

Explodes. "What the hell did you do, Yuy?!" He falls back, landing ungainly on his butt, and scoots backwards.

"Wait! I can explain—" I knew they were the wrong choice of words as soon as they left my mouth; why does this phrase always sound so damn guilty? I pull myself up into a sitting position.

Eyes wide and wild, he holds a hand up as if to ward me off. "Not a step closer, Yuy! Stay right there. And start explaining."

Well, shit! I sort of had a bad feeling that this would happen.

"For your information, it was you who kissed me in my sleep," I lie smoothly. Well, it wasn't really a lie. I barely touched his lips when—

"You licked me. In fact, you practically attacked me, flipping me over and just kissed the hell out of me. Not that I'm complaining," I continue, grinning widely. "I never knew you could kiss like that."

"I…" Chang looks incredulous, and his arm lowers. "Are you saying that I kissed you?"

"Yes. I'm saying that you started it." My grin crosses from 'pleased' and enters 'smug'. My voice drops to a purr and I start to crawl towards him. "Don't deny it Chang. You want me."

His eyes are impossibly wide, and his mouth opens as if to deny, but I catch a hint of something — guilt? indecision? uncertainty? — and I press closer, knowing that I've scored a hit. "I know you want me. When you were half-asleep, you let your guard down."

"No…" His objection is feeble. Then, his expression steels and he clears his throat, eyes flashing angrily. "You're lying. There's no way—"

"You kissed me, and then you humped me until the two of us came," I interrupt firmly, determined not to lose control of this, ahem, discussion. As much as I loathe to admit it— "And, I might add, you were the one on top of me."

How embarrassing.

He glares at me distrustfully. "You made no effort to hide your …lewd intentions towards me from the start. How do I know that you weren't the one who... was doing the... who did..." He stuttered to a red-faced stop, hands clenched. I repress my grin; how can somebody who kissed like that be so prudish?

"Well, like you said. You only have my word for it since you can't remember," I sneer. An unsettling thought occurs to me: what if Chang was only having some ordinary wet dream, the faceless kind, or what if he had been thinking of someone else? But none of that uncertainty shows on my face.

Confidence, Yuy.

You know that Chang does reciprocate your attraction; now you only have to get him to admit it.

"You cannot deny that we did it." I purposely gesture at the wet spot on his pants and his flush deepens. "And worse, after the deed is done, after what you did, you deny any knowledge." I let some anger and hurt through in my voice, and I cross my arms with a scowl.

Actually, I'm not really feeling angry or hurt at all. I've generally been described as an emotionless and cold-hearted bastard before, but I don't think that's a totally accurate assessment; for example, right now, I'm feeling very excited and keyed up.

Do I feel bad about baiting Chang? Well, maybe a tiny, tiny bit. But the way he rants and raves and turns that charming shade of red is just irresistible.

I said that description of me wasn't totally accurate, but it wasn't inaccurate too.

"I... You…" Chang splutters as he glares at me, emotions warring on his face. Then his eyes slides away. "I don't believe you."

"As far as lies go, this is rather contrived and clumsy," I retort. I fold my arms and wait for his reply.

Finally, lips set in a thin furious line, he gets up and pushes his way past me. "I'm not listening to this rubbish anymore."

"Run Chang, but you know I'm telling the truth," I call after him mockingly.

I see his back stiffen in anger and he pauses, but only momentarily. The tent flap flops down and the adrenaline bleeds out of me at the same time. I collapse backwards and look up at the orange fabric. Left alone in the tent, I wonder if I had pushed him too far. If I had played my cards right or if I had blown it.

Outside, it is also very quiet. Almost as if the birds and other morning nuisances have sensed Chang's dangerous mood as well.

A reckless smirk curls my lips.

Oddly enough, I feel great. It feels as if pure energy is coursing through my veins, and I feel revitalized, not drained, by the confrontation. I missed this: taking risks, charged encounters and high stakes. This is precisely just drew me to Chang — his fire, his unpredictability, his vitality. ---

The sun was midway up the sky by the time I leave Chang's tent. I look around but there seem to be no sign of the Chinese man. Well, I'll give him a while to cool off. I duck into my tent and was about to change into some fresh clothes when I catch a whiff of myself. A bath would definitely be in order.

I hadn't brought any soap or towel, and I don't think rummaging through Chang's bags would be a good idea at this point. Grabbing a change of clothing, I make my way down to the stream.

It wasn't very big, perhaps three meters across, or deep, but the water was fairly fast-flowing. I had been half-hoping Chang would be here, but I guess not. There were some rocks, a few boulders here and there; breaking up the stream into little eddies. The water gurgles and splashes as it breaks over the rocks, and I notice that the current is fast enough that little moss grows on the rocks.

I place my clothing carefully on a large boulder at the side of the stream, well above the water-line, and strip. I almost change my mind when I walk into the stream; the water is freezing! The morning air is still a little chilly even though the day is sunny.

Note to self: late afternoon, when the water has warmed somewhat, would be a smarter time to take a bath.

Unfortunately, I'm more or less committed to the cold bath now. I wade towards the middle, where the water came up to just at balls height, and god, that's sensitive. When my legs have gotten somewhat accustomed to the temperature and my nuts have practically crawled into my body, I grit my teeth and lower myself into the water.

Ever notice how limbs are a lot more resilient to extreme temperatures? And that the torso isn't really meant to be subjected to stress such as icy temperatures because that's where all the important bits are?

After a bit of blistering cursing and hopping around, by which time the cold water didn't quite feel so cold, I start to rub myself vigorously.

"Yuy."

I spin around, surprised, but not unpleasantly so. Well, except that standing in cold water isn't really the best way to ...display my attributes. "Chang!"

Chang, still dressed in his sweater and pants, stands besides the boulder where I had left my clothes, a small wry smile on his face. "Here. Catch."

I snatch the white face-towel he threw at me. I started to smile, figuring that it must be his way of apologizing, then remembered that I'm supposed to be as pissed at him as he is at me. I keep the small towel but turn away in a visible huff.

Gingerly, I sit down in the stream again and rub my forearm with the small towel. For a while, I can't hear anything but the bubbling of the brook; I wonder if he had stalked off in anger. Maybe I had gone a little too far; I shouldn't appear overly-eager but I should have given him some encouragement. I'm about to turn around when I hear faint splashing.

Like someone wading towards me.

Startled, I whip around. Chang was naked and making his way carefully towards him. My mind stutters to a halt as my eyes rove greedily. Gone are the previous plans of acting angry or hurt, of careful baiting and seduction...

"Stop staring and turn around," he tells me curtly.

"Why?" I continue admiring blatantly, practically drooling. The most I saw of him — the most gloriously bare skin that is — was when he answered his door topless; I'm certainly not so stupid as to pass up this golden chance.

He blushed, a slow pink that started all the way from his ears and across his cheeks, and he seems to be talking to my collarbone. "Because… Because it's rude."

"We're not teenagers, Chang. Shouldn't we have outgrown this odd modesty? Haven't you taken baths with others before?" I ask dryly, staring happily. Yup, we're definitely not underdeveloped teenagers anymore.

His flush deepens and I can tell that he wants to turn or hide, but he is stubborn. "Likewise, haven't you grown out of the habit of gawking at others' nudity?" Chang says testily, crossing his arms defensively.

"Not when there's something worth admiring." I smirk. "Feel free to look back."

Chang is in superb shape, like a sleek, tawny cat. Lean muscles ripples under bronzed skin as he moves, and I can see the slight tan-lines of his briefs. I also note something else.

"Chang—" I lean down curiously. "Do you tan in the nude?"

"This. Is. It." Chang says quietly, angrily, and something in his expression snaps. Turning on his heels, he walks away.

"Wait, I'm sorry!" I run hurriedly after him, catching him clumsily and wrapping my arms around his torso. "Don't go. I know I've gone too far."

He remains stiff and silent in my arms. I didn't care that I never beg, I forgot that I was suppose to draw him to me, that I wasn't suppose to be running after him like a lovestruck fool. What I do know and realize is that I had been this close to blowing it. That had been stupid of me; there's only a certain point beyond which any person with a decent amount of self-respect would not tolerate baiting.

At least that is what I'm telling myself intellectually. Truthfully? I just panicked when I saw his expression harden.

"Please... don't go," I breathe, pressing my cheek against his hair. All the teasing had gone out of my voice. "I'm sorry."

"You should be." His voice is flat.

"Um… Let's start over?" I offer tentatively. "So… What did you come here for?"

For a long while, he doesn't say anything and I grow increasingly worried that he is still angry. Then, the tension just seems to drain out of him. "Nothing," he sighs, shaking his head.

"It can't be nothing," I quip lightly.

"I just…" Suddenly, and it seems as if I can suddenly feel the annoyance peaking in him again when something occurs to him, he growls. "You still holding me."

"Huh?'

Chang wriggles out of my grip and forcibly turns around. His expression is a mixture of annoyance, exasperation, nervousness and amusement. Before I could analyze that though, he turns me around and pushes down on my shoulders; I get the hint and sit down in the water. Reaching out, he plucks the small towel out from my hand — I can't believe I'm still holding on to it — sits down, and starts scrubbing my back.

I guess this is his way of apologizing? I'm awfully curious, but I keep quiet.

Sure enough, after a while, he starts talking slowly. "Um, about the way I had been behaving earlier… Not to say that you're right or wrong, it's just that I shouldn't have… accused you and walked out like that." A rueful exhale. "That was immature of me. I normally do not behave like that."

Because I struck a nerve? I think smugly to myself.

"I apologize."

Pleasantly startled, and feeling just a twinge of guilt, I turn my head around to look at him. "Chang—"

"No, let me finish," he injects, eyes looking down as he continues to wash my back. "Your behavior was impeccable. You hadn't made any inappropriate advances and you had been more tolerant of me than you should, in light of my inexcusable behavior. In fact, you had been very gracious."

He looks up at me shyly, and that twinge of guilt twinges a bit more. "Can we start over?"

~

The feel of Chang stirring restlessly wakes me up again. I had only been dozing lightly, and easily came fully awake between one blink and the next.

Eyes still closed, Chang mutters choice expletives as he attempts to detangle himself. I can tell he isn't having much success. As much as I would like to prolong the intimacy, the feel of semi-dried cum is pretty gross and I quickly unzip my side of the sleeping bag. Before I could get out though—

"What..." I wince at the ominous tone, both in speech and his sudden stillness. It's like the heavy calm just before a typhoon hits, when the barometer's dropping and everything's just pregnant and heavy with…

"The fuck?"

I blow out a breath. Close my eyes. Well, hmm. What to do now.

Open my eyes. I turn to face him, a blithe smile on my face. "Good morning sunshine."

Dark brows gathered like storm clouds. Not good. Not good at all. Well, in for a penny…

I try for 'hurt'. "You don't remember?"

"Remember what?" Chang said carefully. "I remember you coming into my tent last night. But…" Face frowning, he scrambles out of the sleeping bag. He pauses, stares at the evidence, for want of a better term, and just…

Explodes. "What the hell did you do, Yuy?!" He falls back, landing ungainly on his butt, and scoots backwards.

"Wait! I can explain—" I knew they were the wrong choice of words as soon as they left my mouth; why does this phrase always sound so damn guilty? I pull myself up into a sitting position.

Eyes wide and wild, he holds a hand up as if to ward me off. "Not a step closer, Yuy! Stay right there. And start explaining."

Well, shit! I sort of had a bad feeling that this would happen.

"For your information, it was you who kissed me in my sleep," I lie smoothly. Well, it wasn't really a lie. I barely touched his lips when—

"You licked me. In fact, you practically attacked me, flipping me over and just kissed the hell out of me. Not that I'm complaining," I continue, grinning widely. "I never knew you could kiss like that."

"I…" Chang looks incredulous, and his arm lowers. "Are you saying that I kissed you?"

"Yes. I'm saying that you started it." My grin crosses from 'pleased' and enters 'smug'. My voice drops to a purr and I start to crawl towards him. "Don't deny it Chang. You want me."

His eyes are impossibly wide, and his mouth opens as if to deny, but I catch a hint of something — guilt? indecision? uncertainty? — and I press closer, knowing that I've scored a hit. "I know you want me. When you were half-asleep, you let your guard down."

"No…" His objection is feeble. Then, his expression steels and he clears his throat, eyes flashing angrily. "You're lying. There's no way—"

"You kissed me, and then you humped me until the two of us came," I interrupt firmly, determined not to lose control of this, ahem, discussion. As much as I loathe to admit it— "And, I might add, you were the one on top of me."

How embarrassing.

He glares at me distrustfully. "You made no effort to hide your …lewd intentions towards me from the start. How do I know that you weren't the one who... was doing the... who did..." He stuttered to a red-faced stop, hands clenched. I repress my grin; how can somebody who kissed like that be so prudish?

"Well, like you said. You only have my word for it since you can't remember," I sneer. An unsettling thought occurs to me: what if Chang was only having some ordinary wet dream, the faceless kind, or what if he had been thinking of someone else? But none of that uncertainty shows on my face.

Confidence, Yuy.

You know that Chang does reciprocate your attraction; now you only have to get him to admit it.

"You cannot deny that we did it." I purposely gesture at the wet spot on his pants and his flush deepens. "And worse, after the deed is done, after what you did, you deny any knowledge." I let some anger and hurt through in my voice, and I cross my arms with a scowl.

Actually, I'm not really feeling angry or hurt at all. I've generally been described as an emotionless and cold-hearted bastard before, but I don't think that's a totally accurate assessment; for example, right now, I'm feeling very excited and keyed up.

Do I feel bad about baiting Chang? Well, maybe a tiny, tiny bit. But the way he rants and raves and turns that charming shade of red is just irresistible.

I said that description of me wasn't totally accurate, but it wasn't inaccurate too.

"I... You…" Chang splutters as he glares at me, emotions warring on his face. Then his eyes slides away. "I don't believe you."

"As far as lies go, this is rather contrived and clumsy," I retort. I fold my arms and wait for his reply.

Finally, lips set in a thin furious line, he gets up and pushes his way past me. "I'm not listening to this rubbish anymore."

"Run Chang, but you know I'm telling the truth," I call after him mockingly.

I see his back stiffen in anger and he pauses, but only momentarily. The tent flap flops down and the adrenaline bleeds out of me at the same time. I collapse backwards and look up at the orange fabric. Left alone in the tent, I wonder if I had pushed him too far. If I had played my cards right or if I had blown it.

Outside, it is also very quiet. Almost as if the birds and other morning nuisances have sensed Chang's dangerous mood as well.

A reckless smirk curls my lips.

Oddly enough, I feel great. It feels as if pure energy is coursing through my veins, and I feel revitalized, not drained, by the confrontation. I missed this: taking risks, charged encounters and high stakes. This is precisely just drew me to Chang — his fire, his unpredictability, his vitality. ---

The sun was midway up the sky by the time I leave Chang's tent. I look around but there seem to be no sign of the Chinese man. Well, I'll give him a while to cool off. I duck into my tent and was about to change into some fresh clothes when I catch a whiff of myself. A bath would definitely be in order.

I hadn't brought any soap or towel, and I don't think rummaging through Chang's bags would be a good idea at this point. Grabbing a change of clothing, I make my way down to the stream.

It wasn't very big, perhaps three meters across, or deep, but the water was fairly fast-flowing. I had been half-hoping Chang would be here, but I guess not. There were some rocks, a few boulders here and there; breaking up the stream into little eddies. The water gurgles and splashes as it breaks over the rocks, and I notice that the current is fast enough that little moss grows on the rocks.

I place my clothing carefully on a large boulder at the side of the stream, well above the water-line, and strip. I almost change my mind when I walk into the stream; the water is freezing! The morning air is still a little chilly even though the day is sunny.

Note to self: late afternoon, when the water has warmed somewhat, would be a smarter time to take a bath.

Unfortunately, I'm more or less committed to the cold bath now. I wade towards the middle, where the water came up to just at balls height, and god, that's sensitive. When my legs have gotten somewhat accustomed to the temperature and my nuts have practically crawled into my body, I grit my teeth and lower myself into the water.

Ever notice how limbs are a lot more resilient to extreme temperatures? And that the torso isn't really meant to be subjected to stress such as icy temperatures because that's where all the important bits are?

After a bit of blistering cursing and hopping around, by which time the cold water didn't quite feel so cold, I start to rub myself vigorously.

"Yuy."

I spin around, surprised, but not unpleasantly so. Well, except that standing in cold water isn't really the best way to ...display my attributes. "Chang!"

Chang, still dressed in his sweater and pants, stands besides the boulder where I had left my clothes, a small wry smile on his face. "Here. Catch."

I snatch the white face-towel he threw at me. I started to smile, figuring that it must be his way of apologizing, then remembered that I'm supposed to be as pissed at him as he is at me. I keep the small towel but turn away in a visible huff.

Gingerly, I sit down in the stream again and rub my forearm with the small towel. For a while, I can't hear anything but the bubbling of the brook; I wonder if he had stalked off in anger. Maybe I had gone a little too far; I shouldn't appear overly-eager but I should have given him some encouragement. I'm about to turn around when I hear faint splashing.

Like someone wading towards me.

Startled, I whip around. Chang was naked and making his way carefully towards him. My mind stutters to a halt as my eyes rove greedily. Gone are the previous plans of acting angry or hurt, of careful baiting and seduction...

"Stop staring and turn around," he tells me curtly.

"Why?" I continue admiring blatantly, practically drooling. The most I saw of him — the most gloriously bare skin that is — was when he answered his door topless; I'm certainly not so stupid as to pass up this golden chance.

He blushed, a slow pink that started all the way from his ears and across his cheeks, and he seems to be talking to my collarbone. "Because… Because it's rude."

"We're not teenagers, Chang. Shouldn't we have outgrown this odd modesty? Haven't you taken baths with others before?" I ask dryly, staring happily. Yup, we're definitely not underdeveloped teenagers anymore.

His flush deepens and I can tell that he wants to turn or hide, but he is stubborn. "Likewise, haven't you grown out of the habit of gawking at others' nudity?" Chang says testily, crossing his arms defensively.

"Not when there's something worth admiring." I smirk. "Feel free to look back."

Chang is in superb shape, like a sleek, tawny cat. Lean muscles ripples under bronzed skin as he moves, and I can see the slight tan-lines of his briefs. I also note something else.

"Chang—" I lean down curiously. "Do you tan in the nude?"

"This. Is. It." Chang says quietly, angrily, and something in his expression snaps. Turning on his heels, he walks away.

"Wait, I'm sorry!" I run hurriedly after him, catching him clumsily and wrapping my arms around his torso. "Don't go. I know I've gone too far."

He remains stiff and silent in my arms. I didn't care that I never beg, I forgot that I was suppose to draw him to me, that I wasn't suppose to be running after him like a lovestruck fool. What I do know and realize is that I had been this close to blowing it. That had been stupid of me; there's only a certain point beyond which any person with a decent amount of self-respect would not tolerate baiting.

At least that is what I'm telling myself intellectually. Truthfully? I just panicked when I saw his expression harden.

"Please... don't go," I breathe, pressing my cheek against his hair. All the teasing had gone out of my voice. "I'm sorry."

"You should be." His voice is flat.

"Um… Let's start over?" I offer tentatively. "So… What did you come here for?"

For a long while, he doesn't say anything and I grow increasingly worried that he is still angry. Then, the tension just seems to drain out of him. "Nothing," he sighs, shaking his head.

"It can't be nothing," I quip lightly.

"I just…" Suddenly, and it seems as if I can suddenly feel the annoyance peaking in him again when something occurs to him, he growls. "You still holding me."

"Huh?'

Chang wriggles out of my grip and forcibly turns around. His expression is a mixture of annoyance, exasperation, nervousness and amusement. Before I could analyze that though, he turns me around and pushes down on my shoulders; I get the hint and sit down in the water. Reaching out, he plucks the small towel out from my hand — I can't believe I'm still holding on to it — sits down, and starts scrubbing my back.

I guess this is his way of apologizing? I'm awfully curious, but I keep quiet.

Sure enough, after a while, he starts talking slowly. "Um, about the way I had been behaving earlier… Not to say that you're right or wrong, it's just that I shouldn't have… accused you and walked out like that." A rueful exhale. "That was immature of me. I normally do not behave like that."

Because I struck a nerve? I think smugly to myself.

"I apologize."

Pleasantly startled, and feeling just a twinge of guilt, I turn my head around to look at him. "Chang—"

"No, let me finish," he injects, eyes looking down as he continues to wash my back. "Your behavior was impeccable. You hadn't made any inappropriate advances and you had been more tolerant of me than you should, in light of my inexcusable behavior. In fact, you had been very gracious."

He looks up at me shyly, and that twinge of guilt twinged a bit more. "Can we start over?"

 

      Takeover 13     I check to see if the coast is clear — in other words, if Sally isn’t looking — and walk as quietly as I can out without actually creeping. She should be all right without me for a few hours; I mean, I have my cell phone and I did leave a note, on cheerful yellow post-it no less. And really, while I am the one with the big vision, and the company, I would readily admit that the person who does most of the work in the office is dear Sally.   I really should look into getting a back-door for my office.   Out the door, down the elevator, out into the carpark. However, just when I am almost clear, I hear a familiar voice.   “Heero!”   Cringing at the timing, I turn around. Duo flinches at my impatient look. “Wait, I need to talk to you—“   Ok, I know Duo had been a wonderful boyfriend to me, even if his kiss yesterday *did* ruin my company, and therefore, I’m not blowing him off. Holding up a palm, I interrupt him as politely as I can.   “Duo, look. I know what you’re going to say but I’m not changing my mind.”   “Why not? Aren’t you going to give me a chance?” Duo looks pissed. He’s also looking less than perfect today; his color is wan, lips pinched and eyes narrowed, and his hair is tied in a messy tail instead of a braid today. I recognize all the signs of a bad hangover.   “Because this relationship for me is different…from my previous ones…” I fumble for words, not the first time today I note wryly. “Because I did give you a chance, but I… I didn’t feel anything special on my side. I’m sorry.”   A look of hurt flashes across his face. Then he crosses his arms and sneers snidely. “And how is your new …*boyfriend* going to be any different from your past lovers? How do you know it’s not going to be another quick fling? You go through boyfriends like people go through shoes.”   This time, the right words come to me easily. “Because I *love* him.”   Duo’s face pales even further. I have never used that term before. Never. I use to laugh at the term and consider it frivolous, but I also consider myself a truthful person and so, I don’t use the word ‘love’ in vain. I’m sure I have other qualities that would easily lure potential bed-mates, such as money and good looks. No need to sprout all the ‘love’ nonsense, I used to say.   “No you don’t,” Duo protests weakly. “You… You say you’ve never been in love? How would you know what love is?”   “Yes I do,” I say tiredly. Suddenly, all the stress of the morning just crashed down on me. Not wishing to explain anything else to Duo, I turn and leave.   Duo does not follow.   ---   Figuring that he would be coming back later in the day, Wufei opts to leave his bike at the university. The ride there to the circus is quiet as I don’t feel like turning on the music system in the car. At this time of the day, there’s not much traffic on the roads.   “You seemed much chirpier on the phone,” Wufei notes, realizing that something is off.   “Yeah well, I had a bit of a bad morning. That was stress-induced chirpiness. I think I crashed since.”   It’s still early in the day so there aren’t that many people at the circus yet, so I manage to find a parking space easily. I guess this is the sort of place that would come alive in the evenings.   “Want to talk about it?” Wufei asks hesitantly.   I think about it. “No, not really. I just want to forget about work for a while.”   “All right.”   Turning to him, I force a grin. He’s casually dressed today in a pair of black jeans and a red linen shirt that has a black dragon printed on the side. I feel a bit overdressed in my suit, so I take off my jacket and leave that in the car. It’s a warm day so I also release the top two buttons of my blue shirt and roll up my sleeves.   “Hey hey, I asked you out. I should be focusing on you.”   He slips an arm around my shoulders. “Hey yourself. You don’t have to be a big, tough business tycoon all the time. Let me take care of you too.”   “I don’t need anyone to take care of me,” I protest. His arm around me feels very warm and secure; have I mentioned he’s the same height as me? Simply perfect for kissing. And so I do.   “I’m sure you’re more than able to handle the corporate sharks out there, but you can be clueless in many other things too.” Wufei smiles, and pecks me on the lips again.   The attendant at the circus entrance gives us a knowing smirk when we walk past.   “Just because I didn’t know how to set up a tent…”   “Not just that,” Wufei says, grinning. His black eyes are lively, his cologne distracting. I kiss him again.   “What?”   Wufei shakes his head, chuckling. “Nothing. Let’s just enjoy ourselves. You mentioned you had never been to a circus before?”   “No…” I look at the gaudy stalls and crowds around me with trepidation. It’s all so noisy and chaotic. A clown walks by, his oversized shoes flip-flopping loudly, talking rapidly with a brawny guy in a skin-tight red and green leotard. I mentally add ‘juvenile’ and ‘tacky’ to the list of undesirable adjectives.   Wufei laughs at my horrified expression, his arm tightening around me comfortingly. “It’s not so bad… Look, let’s go and have lunch first. Trust me.”   Shuddering a little, I follow him. “I’m regretting this already.”   ---   But surprisingly enough, I have a good time.   After a meal of assorted kebab-ed snacks and pastries, we walk around and Wufei wins me a prize at one of the game stores — he’s quite a crack-shot. I hang the trinket on my cell phone.   Turns out his graduate student, the tall one, works part-time here in the main circus show. Despite the white clown make-up, the heavy fall of hair over his face is a dead-giveaway. After the show, in which I enjoyed myself more than I thought I would, he brings us round the back to pet the lions.   Then we went around to eat more snack and participate in more ‘juvenile’ activities. The Tunnel of Love is rather tackily named, but fun in its own way, for obvious reasons.   Wufei hops off the wobbly boat easily. When I move to stand up though, the swan threatens to tip me over and I end up clutching the neck in a very undignified manner.   “Hold my hand,” Wufei coaxes. I can see that he’s trying to hold back his laughter.   “I hate you. And your martial arts training,” I declare sullenly. But I take his hand anyway and he helps me off.   Then Wufei gives a sudden yank and I stumble, sprawling into his arms. “We have a problem,” he breathes into my ear. He pulls us under the shade of the trees, and we stand there for a few minutes, arms wrapped around each other.   I roll my hips against his, our erections bumping. “Is that why you were leaning forward and helping me?”   Wufei snickers. “At least I didn’t almost fall off the swan because I was trying to get off the swan in a half-crouched position.”   “Shut up.” I find myself humping against him, instinctively trying to relive the tension down there. “So, what are we going to do now?”   “Nothing. We’re in public and there are children about, for chrissakes,” Wufei hisses. His strong hands grab hold of my errant hips firmly. “This is all your fault.”   “Yeah? You were doing your fair share of groping too.” I smirk. “Besides, what was I to think when you told me we were taking a ride down the tunnel of love?”   “It was supposed to be romantic. Only you would think of it as the tunnel of lust.”   “Can’t help it when I’m with you.” Closing my eyes, I lean forward and press my lips against his. Partially hidden away under the trees and blocked by the fake tunnel structure, the noise of the fairground recedes, and it seems almost private.   He laughs in between kisses, and traps my arms against my sides. “Stop that. You do realize this isn’t helping matters any?”   “What are you going to…” I taunt, wriggling suggestively, “do about it?”   Abruptly, Wufei flips me around, pinning me to the side of the tunnel. His lips curl up in a wicked grin as he purrs throatily at me. “What do you want me to …do?” His head dips, trails a wet trail down my jaw, suckles at the hollow of my throat.   I groan, low and needy. I wish my hands are free; my thigh pushes between his legs, pushes upwards.   “Stop that.” His thighs grip mine. Hard. He nips me hard enough that I yelp.   “Not fair. Why are you torturing me like this?”   He doesn’t reply because he’s too busy sucking a hickey.   “Ohh…” My head lolls to the side and he proceeds to take advantage, nibbling a ruby necklace along my exposed collar. “What happened to the reticent college professor?”   “That’s your stereotypical image of a professor.” He licks a wet trail all the way up my throat, up along my jugular and fuck—   I wince at the bite on my ear lobe. And shiver as he takes the tender piece of flesh into his mouth and laves it soothingly, purring into my ear. “Really. Am I that sort?”   Thinking of the explosive interactions between us, of his fire and feistiness, I grin ruefully. “No. But you’d never seem so enthusiastic before…”   “I’m not a frivolous kind of guy.” He turns his head, catches my lips again. “Wanted to see if you were serious.”   “And, if I am?” I pant against his lips. Opens my eyes and drowns in his.   “Then I am as well. Be warned, Yuy. I am very serious.” His voice drops to a rumble that just goes right through me. Gods. That bedroom voice of his, low and husky. “You’re mine.”   “Yours,” I agree breathlessly.   “Mine,” he repeats. Then he turns to look to the side and dazedly, I turn my head as well.   Duo is standing at the opposite side of the stream, the one that runs through the tunnel, eyes wide open and utterly shocked.   “….Duo?” What’s he doing here?   “I guess you really do love him after all,” Duo whispers, shoulders slumped. He sounds defeated. “You wouldn’t let anyone else do that to you otherwise.”   “Wha…?” I don’t understand.   Wufei stares intently at Duo, arms around me like a dragon hording its gold, and slowly, Duo smiles in resignation. He gives a curt nod. “I understand. Goodbye, Heero.”   I stare at Duo’s retreating back and then it hits me. I should feel offended, but I’m not. Turning back to Wufei, I raise a brow. “Possessive, aren’t we?’   “I don’t share.”   “I don’t mind.”   Wufei smirks, flashing the tip of his pink tongue and hinting at all sorts of obscene promises. “Let’s go then. Your apartment is closer.”   ---   Somehow we manage to drive back without any accident or speeding ticket. It’s definitely not my first time, neither Wufei’s I’m sure, but it’s *our* first time. After *months* of foreplay, of playful banter and kisses and touches, it seems as if all our pent-up tension just exploded. I barely slam my front door close when Wufei, stumbling in a half-step after me, pushes me up against the wall.   “Wait… the bedroom is just down the hall…”   “Can’t wait that long,” Wufei growls around a hungry kiss. He fumbles for my pants, undoing the belt buckle and yanks both my pants and underwear down. I hiss in relief when my erection bounces in the cool air and grasp the base tightly; I’m sure I’m that close to coming. Already the tip is slick and weeping.   “We’re going to do it here? In the foyer?” I’m both incredulous and incredibly aroused by the idea.   “Yeah.” Wufei grins wickedly as he opens the front of his pants. “Let’s go through your place a room at a time.”   Then his hands are sliding up my bare thighs and under my shirt and gods, so warm, the feel of his calloused palms against the smoother skin of my thighs and hips. When he presses his fingers against my lips, I open my mouth automatically. Knowing what’s next, I make sure to coat his fingers well.   Then his fingers are gone, replaced by his mouth, bruising against mine, and a hard thigh is parting my own. I kick away my pants and spread my legs, leaning back against the wall.   “Good,” Wufei coos at me, One finger trails down my balls, tickling it, and circles my hole. With his other hand, he guides my right leg up around his hips. “Put your leg up, it’ll be easier.”   A finger slides in and I moan. Feels like I could fall any second; balanced on one leg and muscles rubbery, but I throw my arms around his shoulders and cling on desperately.   “Can you take another now?” Wufei asks. I nod jerkily, and he slips in another slick digit.   “So tight, almost like it’s your first time,” Wufei murmurs, fingers twisting and scissoring. “You don’t bottom much?”   “Rarely,” I gasp out. Gods, why didn’t I do it more often? It feels so good, so full and oh, oh gods, I think he just found my prostate. And yes, he’s a sadist because he *keeps* bumping at that sweet spot and his other hand has a vice grip on my cock and he just keeps smirking.   “Don’t come yet; I want to be in you first.”   I’m writhing and fucking myself on his fingers and what is he waiting for? “Hurry, in me, now, now,” I gasp out, none too coherently.   And then, he is me, breeching me, filling me. He doesn’t bother to take off his pants even, just pushes them down enough to do the job. My spit and his pre-come are barely enough, but I’m as high as a kite on arousal now and the exquisite burn of his entry only serves to heighten my pleasure.   “Let go, Heero.” Hands grasp my hips firmly. I suck in another deep breath, relaxing as much as I could down there. He slides in slowly, pulling back a bit before pushing in further and repeating. He’s going slowly so as to ease his passage for me, and I can feel every exquisite, thick inch of him.   “So good,” I moan. “Move, yeah, dammit.”   His hips rock back and forth, slowly at first. He shifts, eyes searching my face, and when he finds *that* angle and I shriek, eyes rolling back, he smirks.   “Hold on tight,” he tells me. And snaps his hips forward again.   With a wail, I brace my shoulders against the wall, digging my finger into his shoulders and arching my back and letting him hold me and oh, oh gods… In this position, it’s so good, so deep. Every sure thrust hitting that damn spot and the sensation of him, filling me, warm and solid. A roiling heat curls deep within me, a tight spiral of tension that winds and coils until like brittle glass, I just.   …shatter.   ---   “Ugh. I think you broke me.” Any attempt to move sent a searing jolt through me. *Down* there.   Wufei groans, turning over on his back slowly. He clutches one shoulder gingerly. “The damage was mutual.”   I lie on my front, because it’s impossible for me to flip on my back now, and contemplate the floor. “I hurt more.”   A few seconds pass; I hear Wufei getting up. Then I feel hands pushing up my shirt and parting my ass-cheeks. “It does look kinda red. And swollen.”   “Shut up.” I flush in mortification. Despite the pain, I push myself up on my knees, determined to get up.   “Are you tempting me?”   “Wha—?”   And my arms threaten to give out again when I feel an unmistakable *lick* down there. “Oh god.”   My arms give out, and I surrender with a happy groan.     ~*~ The End ~*~       A/N: Did anyone notice the irony — Heero starts off, planning to mount a hostile assault and storm Wufei’s defenses, but was taken over in the end? But (mostly) everyone’s happy in the end. ^__^   I know there are a couple of loose ends, but I felt like ending the story here. Term start next week. I’m not ready. *buries head in sand*   About Quatre, I’m sure Wufei would just order him to stop bullying Heero.   And Duo, well, I’m sure perhaps Wufei knew about him. After all, Heero’s been chasing him for months and Quatre’s not the only one who reads the papers.