Sweet Summer Sweat
by Fancyfigures

The morning arrived, with a sharp, bright sunlight, that promised as hot a day as before. In room 6, two naked bodies lay casually together on the bed, sheet thrown off in the night. The dark-haired young man lay curled around a thick pillow, clutched to his chest. The chestnut-haired man lay stretched out, on his back, staring at the ceiling. There was a jar that may once have been full of soft, lubricating gel, rolled half-empty on to the floor. A desert bird screeched once as it passed overhead -- there was the soft hitch and rumble of an air conditioning system starting up. Though it was unlikely to be equal to the task of this weather. There may have been the soft sounds of bare feet on the corridor outside the room.

Trowa didn't hear them. He slipped his feet over the side of the bed, and stretched. His muscles ached. The result of several days scrunched up in a battered old car, he guessed. Then he felt the warm, regular breath on his hip, and he turned back to look down on the man sleeping beside him. He smiled. Guess the extra exercise might be to blame, as well!

Heero had been a revelation! He had never known his companion was so uninhibited -- so eager for sex. And so willing to try something new. Or some things... mused Trowa. His face grew hot at the memories. There'd been the first, hot, fierce time. Then more caresses -- more stimulation. More penetration, of an ass now stretched and eased with the silky, sticky remnants of his own cum. More, gasping, astonishing climaxes. And then some more... His early morning erection twitched its approval. And perhaps its greed...

Trowa reckoned he had a healthy enough libido for a young man, but he'd never felt quite so rampant before. It felt as if the heat were crawling through his very skin, and not just from the sun, sneaking through the shutters. He felt the blood throbbing through his veins; the lust lingering in his tired limbs. He teased at his rigid cock, torn between calming it down, and giving in to its demands. It was still a little sticky, with crusty white trails...he eased some trapped hairs out from the foreskin.

With a sigh, he saw that Heero was still deeply asleep. He'd not disturb him yet. Anyway, he ought to go and check out the car, see what state it was in to get them going again this morning. Then he'd find some coffee, or breakfast, and bring it back for them both.

His stomach rumbled, with the thought of breakfast. He realised with some distraction that he had other appetites just as ravenous as his lust. And ones that were more easily attended to! There would be breakfast here, surely -- as there had been supper, the night before. Prepared by the astonishing, yet obviously talented Wufei. He remembered the taste of the food, sharp and exciting on his tongue. It had been very good...

He reached for his clothes to get dressed.

Trowa folded himself out of the car, and slammed the door shut. The hinges creaked. The metal was already beginning to heat up in the sun, and his fingertips smarted from the touch. He wished, not for the first time, that he swore with the same ease as Heero. The situation called for it! He fumbled under the hood, and wrenched it up. He stared at the engine like it was gonna cry ‘good morning' to him, and diagnose what the trouble was itself. He prodded experimentally at some of the grime-encrusted workings. Or not workings, as the case may be. He wondered if Heero knew anything about cars. He was beginning to realise that there were more things he didn't know about his lover than the things that he did.

Wufei stood at the main door to the motel, leant slightly against the post. He held a couple of boxes of eggs, presumably on his way into the kitchen. Trowa hadn't seen him appear, but then, he'd not been concentrating on anything but his frustration.


"Damn car won't start!" snapped Trowa. He reckoned he needed someone to sound off to. Didn't have Heero here, taking his share of the hassle, did he? "It was on its last legs when we arrived, and it looks like they've given way as well. Not a murmur -- it won't even turn over."

"I'll have a look," said Wufei. His voice was calm, and authoritative. He put down the boxes on the step and came over to stand beside Trowa. He had a cool, morning smell about him; like he'd just washed. Like he wore a light cologne, and it was still fresh from application. Trowa tried to ignore it -- he was worrying about the car, wasn't he?

Wufei bent over the engine, and reached confidently for a fixture -- he twisted it. Sighed, when it wouldn't move. He straightened up, and squinted at the sun climbing above them. Then his eyes plunged back down quickly, and caught Trowa gazing at him. Trowa blushed. Wufei just smiled. Without a word, he reached for the hem of his tunic top, and peeled it easily up over his head and off his body. He was half-naked now, and Trowa couldn't stop himself from staring. Above the pair of them, the sky was a pale blue with the morning light. There was a sudden, pregnant silence. Wufei's skin was darker than Quatre's -- nearer to Heero's tone. A line around his neck of emerging sweat drops shone with a sharp reflection; the muscles of his torso rippled with his movement. Trowa noticed the unusually dark pigment and size of his nipples. He also noticed the ache in his groin -- his morning hunger was being piqued beyond food. He wished he'd woken Heero, after all, and claimed some relief...

What the hell was he going on about? he berated himself. One sex-filled night, and he was obsessed by the whole thing! He shook his head slightly, to break the tension.

"Ah -- it's OK, I can call a mechanic --" he began. He didn't want to move away and look rude -- but Wufei's hip was pressing against his, as they stood together at the car. Wufei had bent again, to look around the engine. Trowa couldn't help but admire the obviously knowledgeable way that he knew his way around a car. He also saw the waist of Wufei's pants slip down a little, showing the shallow dip at the base of his spine, before it curved into the cheeks of his ass. That dip was one of the most sensual things he'd ever seen. He felt a lot hotter.

"Distributor seized," said Wufei.

"Wha -?"

"It's seized. No spark. It'll not run without repair -- without a new distributor." Wufei's voice was a calm monotone. He stretched back up, and twisted his shoulders to loosen the muscles. Then he turned suddenly, and his hand grasped Trowa's wrist. He leaned down a little, for he was a good four inches taller. "Nothing will run without a spark," he murmured. His tone was richer, now -- much smoother. The sound rolled lasciviously from his lips. A smile teased at the corners of his mouth.

"Let me go --" gasped Trowa.

Wufei let go of his hand, with a laugh. "You're covered in oil, like me. We'll clean ourselves off in the kitchen."

"Ahh.. no, I'll go back to the room..."

"In the kitchen," repeated Wufei. His dark eyes fixed on Trowa's, and they were like deep pools of command. Trowa felt the Presence tighten its coil in the pit of his stomach; felt it lick at his balls.

He was suddenly, irrationally scared. Scared at what was inside him, apparently beyond his control.

Then he was angry with himself, for being so fanciful. So stupid! It was the heat again -- he was hungry. The man was only trying to help...!

"Sure," he said, looking down at the stripes of black on his hands and arms -- a smudge across his tee shirt. The pungent smell of motor oil was suddenly very vivid to him. "Sure -- lead the way."

Trowa had peeled his own shirt off, and they'd both cleaned up in the big enamel sink of the kitchen. He was relieved to see that he'd been right -- there was a breakfast being prepared. He could smell the cooking bacon; see the breaths of smoke rising from the pan on the hob. His mouth filled with saliva at the smell alone. He wandered over to look, and forgot to put his shirt back on. Or so he would have justified it.

"Are there other guests staying here, Wufei?"

The other man smiled slowly at him. He, also, remained shirtless. "There's plenty of room here, Trowa. Though others will come. But not today. This is for you."

Trowa spun round to stare at him. The tone had been...odd... "Me?"

Wufei shrugged. He moved beside him; he appeared to be busy at the hob. "You -- and your companion. Pass me the eggs, please."

Trowa went to the tray of eggs, and passed over a couple to Wufei's outstretched hand. Trowa's eyes were drawn to the ripple of muscles along his chest. He really was built most splendidly. Arms that looked like they could lift anything -- anyone. Yet Trowa knew his touch could be gentle, if he chose. The way he took the eggs -- so carefully. Cradled them... Unbidden thoughts of being in Wufei's hands flooded Trowa's mind. Thoughts that made him flush, even beyond the aromatic warmth of the kitchen.

He shook his head, angry at himself. Everything seemed to be sexual to him this morning!

"Where can we get a replacement distributor, then?" he asked. "How far into the next town?" He wondered where they kept their own vehicles. They'd have something, wouldn't they?

"A guy will be out with supplies later in the week," replied Wufei. He cracked an egg sharply, on the edge of the pan. It hissed as it fell into the hot oil. "He'll take your order."

"But don't you have a car we could borrow? Or a phone, to call up a local mechanic -?"

"No car. No phone," said Wufei.

"No phone?" said Trowa, incredulously. "No phone? How do you manage? How do you get in contact with the town?"

Wufei shrugged. "Maxwell deals with it all. We don't need anything else. The guy will come, and we'll tell him to find what you need, and that'll be that."

"This is ridiculous -!" spluttered Trowa. A trickle of the fear was back, spitting heat around him, mimicking the fried eggs, cooking in the pan.

Wufei turned and stared at him again. He looked amused again, as well. "Don't you have a cell?"

Trowa flushed. "The battery's dead. Has been for a day or so. I didn't bring a charger." He didn't have to justify himself to this guy like this -!

"You left in a rush," stated Wufei. "You were too eager to leave it all behind. You didn't think where you might be headed to. Life needs commitment to both, Trowa."

Trowa was shocked at the man's nerve. He was just a member of staff here, wasn't he? Just because he was damn right -!

"Look..." he began. "It's -- it's awkward. Y'see, we don't have much money left to pay for the room. We never thought we'd be stuck here for more than a day -- two at the most. We were heading for the city -- we were gonna get jobs, and a place of our own. Pay our way then."

Wufei was smiling at him, in that slow, self-confident way that -- just this morning -- was beginning to irritate the hell out of Trowa. He turned away from the cooker, and with a studied, graceful ease, he stretched his arms up above his head, lacing his hands together; popping the joints of his fingers. He waited until he knew that Trowa was looking at the softer, paler underside of his arms, and the glistening trail of sweat in the hollows by his neck, and then he spoke.

"That's fine. We will wait. You'll pay your way."

"I mean -- we will do that," Trowa rushed on.

"Yes," said Wufei, firmly, still with that knowing, half-smile. "I said you will. There's plenty of room here, I just told you. Just relax."

Trowa's eyes narrowed. Relax... He thought of Heero, lying back in the room, dozing. There was something dreadfully indolent about everything here. He felt it himself -- the seductive lassitude. No phones... no cars....

"As soon as we get a job..." he finished, rather lamely. He resented having to be like this; he felt at the mercy of this man. This gorgeous, sensual man, who appeared totally calm in the face of anything; who had the superb physical condition of an artisan, but apparently the creative talents of an artist.

"A job," mused Wufei. His eyes held Trowa's until he flushed under his gaze. "You could do some work here for us, if you like."

It sounded a good idea, Trowa thought. It would help pay off their expenses here, and keep them busy until the repair guy turned up. But what would they do -?

Wufei read his next question as if he'd spoken it aloud. "Quatre needs help fixing the fencing, and things around the building; Heero could help him. And you could help me in the kitchen."

"What -- will I do?" Trowa laughed, a little too loudly; too falsely. "I can't cook, I don't think." He'd just been told that there were no other guests -- there were no other vehicles in the yard. What the hell kept these guys busy all day?

Wufei stepped away from the counter, leaving the eggs popping quietly under a low heat. He stretched out his hand -- the hand that had held the eggs safe; the hand that had cracked them firmly against the metal of the pan...and he took hold of Trowa's arm. "What does it matter to you? You just want to be with me."

"Wha -?" protested Trowa. His body felt on fire; the dark-skinned man held him too tightly to pull away -- yet not hard enough to hurt. Not yet...

Why did that thought thrill him, rather than terrify?

His words were stuttering. "Look - I guess we could stay another day. I guess I could help out here. But -- ah -- when will the guy be out here next?"

Wufei took just a single step -- but now he was up against Trowa's chest, the hot, strong torso against his own slimmer, shivering one. Wufei's skin was a hair's breadth away. A thin trail of sweat ran down from a nipple -- Trowa fought the almost irresistible desire to bend his head and lick at it...

"He'll come when he wants. He'll take the time he takes."

Huh? thought Trowa. That was no answer at all. And he watched as something that looked like his own hand reached out and laid its palm flat on Wufei's chest. The skin was almost hairless; he could feel the beat of the other man's heart under the sharp plane of his ribs. Wufei drew in a deep breath -- under his fingertips, Trowa felt his lungs move in and out.

"So will you, Trowa, won't you? Take the time you take. Take whatever you will..."

How could such a simple conversation be so charged? thought Trowa. He felt as if his hand were fused on to Wufei's body. He wanted it to stay there indefinitely -- to caress that hot skin. To slide down slowly; to trace out each well-defined muscle. To reach for the stomach; touch the groin. Twist the curling hairs around his fingers -- take the rearing cock into his fist -

"Take me..." whispered Wufei's voice, though Trowa couldn't see his mouth moving. And now he listened more closely, he wasn't sure it was Wufei's voice at all. He just felt the beat of Wufei's heart, and the quickening of his breath on Trowa's neck, and the strange, silent words...

"Take... take..."

He wrenched his hand away as if it were in a lion's mouth. He saw Wufei's eyes widen. Then he saw nothing, except for his own feet, as he turned and stumbled out of the kitchen.

There was something in his way as he made for the door -- not a person -- but not a shadow, either. Something as tall as he was -- with the smell of man, and the touch of skin, as he lurched against it. He jerked away, and twisted past, blind to its form.

He just knew that it was something to do with the Presence.

And was therefore to be feared.

"He likes you," smiled Quatre. "The dark one. He wants you, badly."

"Of course," said Wufei. It didn't seem to bother him. He stood at the cooker, stirring a pot of beans; adding some sauce and seasoning.

"Your recipes are as persuasive as always," murmured Quatre. He was sat up on the worktop, beside the cooker, legs swinging gently. Tap, tap -- his bare heels drummed a slow tattoo against the wooden doors of the cupboards. He wore his ubiquitous shorts, but no shirt this morning. His hair was attractively mussed, as if he'd combed it carefully, but then run his hands wildly through it. He dipped a finger in the pot on the hob, and dragged it out slowly. The thick, rich sauce dripped down from his fingertip -- a single, pale red bean hung from his skin. He lifted his hand, and caught the globule of food on his outstretched tongue.

Wufei was watching him. He put down the spoon. Quatre stared back. He poked his wet finger into his mouth, and slurped the rest of the sauce off noisily.

"Tastes good... and full of what you do best, Wufei...sauce and seasoning..."

He said no more. Wufei's hands were on his shoulders, pushing him none too gently, back down on to the tiled counter. He stood over the blond boy, as Quatre wriggled to get comfortable, his head up against the wall, his legs still hanging over the rim. His chest was heaving a little more noticeably than before.

"He'll go back to his companion, you know."

"I know. He cares for him. Or thinks he does." He tugged at the shorts the blond boy was wearing -- Quatre sighed as they dropped off his ankles, and his exposed cock sprang quickly to attention. A single drop of pre-cum oozed softly on to his stomach, and his muscles shivered in reaction.

"Maxwell's here," he whispered.

Wufei smiled. "Maxwell..." he called, softly. "Duo Maxwell -- join us now! He's ripe for us; the dark one. He thinks he's in control..."

"In control of nothing!" broke in the third voice. And this time, the speaker stepped into full view of the kitchen.

It was as if the air rushed suddenly into a gap, seeking to fill it; as if the temperature of the room shook with fear, torn between rising suddenly or plunging down to an icy cold. There was no kitchen at all; there was no ground underneath them. Just the man at the door. A tall, slender, well muscled man. Sharp, sapphire blue eyes; wide, sensual lips. A look of complete confidence -- almost arrogance. Long, dark hair, the colour of a wild animal's soft-harsh pelt. Braided behind him, like a girl's. Swinging behind him, teasing at his ass. Shouting out his singularity like a town crier. Not that either of the men in the kitchen doubted that. Nor his superiority over them. Their bodies tensed -- the blood coursed more fiercely in their veins. Their pulses rose many beats -- and whether from excitement or fear, they couldn't have said. Inevitably, it was from a mixture of both. Neither of them could have told you how the man dressed -- if, indeed, he was dressed at all. It didn't matter to anyone. And certainly not him.

Wufei smiled; an expression of pure pleasure. He lifted the boy's legs on to his shoulders, gripping his hips with his large, strong hands. Quatre whimpered encouragement. The man didn't speak, but Wufei looked to the far side of the kitchen, and acknowledged some kind of message; his mouth twitched in the smallest of satisfied smiles, and he inclined his head as if to accept orders.

"For the dark one, my twisted master..." he whispered. "Watch me..." He shifted Quatre's legs wider, exposing his white, shining flesh, and the long, slim cock, dark with its eagerness, rising out of the blond nest of hair. Then he pulled his own pants down to his hips, and pressed firmly into the boy beneath him.

There was a cry of pleasure, and a grunt of lust surrendered to.

"It's good," murmured Maxwell. His hand stroked gently at his groin, in the same rhythm as Wufei's thrusts. "The dark one is good. He will be good. But the other -- he is sweet beyond my desires. My imagination. My dreams."

Quatre's moans grew louder. "Maxwell...!" he gasped. "Duo...touch me --"

The braided man moved towards them, and stood behind Wufei's jerking body. He slipped a hand around the dark-haired man's waist. His body moved gently, in mimicry of Wufei's fucking. They moved together, as if they both fucked Quatre's open, begging body, thrusting into him together. Wufei leant back lightly, and brushed his ass against Maxwell's groin.

"He's been taken only by the one. But he's still waiting for his true one. It makes him..." Duo Maxwell sighed, and his forehead temporarily furrowed. "It makes him more difficult to see. I don't understand that..."

Wufei was grunting -- his climax was approaching. Duo stretched his arm further around the front of his sweating body, and grasped Quatre's straining cock. At the same time, he slipped the other hand down into Wufei's pants, and cupped his ass, pinching at the narrow channel between his cheeks. His fingers found the soft bed behind the balls with unerring accuracy -- and probed confidently at the tight hole behind, tempting it to flex and pucker up, begging for more. Wufei groaned at the touch.

"The dark one cares for him," mused Duo. "If either of them know what that means...He wants to possess him. But he's not anyone's to possess!"

Wufei shuddered, and his thrusts became fast and shallow, stimulated not only by fucking Quatre, but by the assured hand at his asshole. It was enough to tip him over the edge. He grunted, bent double as his cock leapt inside the boy underneath him, and his seed spewed out into his tight channel. Quatre writhed under him, legs spread wide and straining to reach around the broad torso, and he wailed as the pressure of the third man's hand on his shaft increased.

"Duo -- harder -- please, harder --", and he moaned, clutching at Wufei as his climax dragged at his balls, and burst the boundaries of his tortured cock, crushed between them. Duo withdrew his hand, just as the seed began to spurt out. It came out like a geyser, coating both stomachs, as Wufei still lay panting on top of him. Quatre made sounds like soft sobs. Perhaps that's what they truly were.

"Not anyone's to possess. Right?" repeated Maxwell. He lifted his hands from the other two, and stepped away, as if he were removing his very presence from the world. Wufei felt the chill at his back -- Quatre the cooling stickiness of an ecstasy now gone, and a shrivelling of his deserted shaft.

"Except perhaps mine."

Trowa found his feet almost too fast for him, as he rushed back to the room. He was disturbed by so much -- by the unreliable car; by the exciting night he'd had with Heero; by Wufei's unnerving touches in the kitchen.

Exciting touches, his mind teased.

And more where that came from, teased the tantalising memory of the Presence. It was still with him -- it was in his head; in his eyes. In his crotch...

He groaned quietly to himself -- he'd still not had breakfast! No wonder he was so off kilter. He'd rouse Heero, and they could go and find something together, and decide what to do about the car and everything.

But Heero was already up when he let himself back into the room. He turned and smiled at Trowa, a little self-consciously. He had a thin sleeveless vest on, and some shorts that Trowa never even knew he owned, let alone had packed. They were more modest than Quatre's outrageous fashion statement of the night before; but the sight of Heero's slender, lithe thighs was still very stimulating. Trowa couldn't help his eyes drifting that way.

"Hi. Where'd you get to?"

Trowa's mouth opened to reply -- then he seemed to think better of it. He sat down on the edge of the bed, his arms folded tightly against his chest. "Looking for breakfast -- are you coming with me?"

Heero stared at him, a little puzzled at his agitated state. "Sure. I just had a wash, and went for a walk along the corridor -- had a look at that courtyard we passed. It looks like it'd be pleasant to sit out there; there's some shade over the benches. And that's a pool in the centre -- well, it's dried out at the moment, I guess, though this is just the weather when it'd be great to take a dip --"

"Whatever," said Trowa. It came out like a snap, and he wished for a second he could bite it back. Heero's words stopped abruptly, and his face twisted. Trowa felt like a real shit.

Heero frowned, and he snapped himself. "So what the fuck's up with you this morning? I don't remember you being so tongue-tied last night, when you were licking my ass!"

Trowa winced at the crudity in the bald light of day. Flushed at the delicious memory. "Yeah, but I'm not the one who sprayed curses around like rice at a wedding, and shrieked his needs at a decibel level that'd wake the dead -!"

It was Heero's turn to flush. "You bastard, Trow! You gotta problem with my bedroom etiquette, you can go fuck yourself, and that's not just swearing, OK?"

Trowa grimaced. "No -- Heero -- look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. It was great -- you know it was -- I mean, it was great for me -- never better --"

Heero sighed. "Sorry, too. It's the heat, I guess. Or -- whatever." He busied himself with folding a towel that was already folded. Settling a pile of them that had already been settled. Trowa thought that he was already in a mood, and it wasn't gonna pass any time soon. He wanted to kick himself. Wanted to kick someone.

"What about the car?" asked Heero, his back still to Trowa. "We ready to get going yet?"

So Trowa told him the bad news. He sat down heavily on the bed beside him.

"Damn! But you reckon Wufei can fix it, if we get the part?"

"Well, yeah --" said Trowa. "But we don't know when that'll be, and we have to wait for this delivery guy to turn up, and Wufei doesn't seem to know anything else about it --"

Heero put out a hand to him, rather tentatively. "Why are you so worried about it, Trow? Another day or so won't matter. There'll be someone out soon -- they have to have food delivered, don't they? We'll either get the car fixed then, or hitch a lift into town."

"I'm not worried, right? But we don't have much money, and there's a way to go yet before we get to the city --"

Heero laughed. Trowa realised it was the first time he'd heard him laugh for a couple of days. "But we've been given an option, to help out -- to pay our way for a bit. Don't you want to help Wufei out? With his miraculous cooking? Sounds like you two have had quite a chat this morning already --"

It was a joke, but Heero realised he'd misjudged it. He didn't understand Trowa's tension. He thought that his lover's response was disproportionately aggressive.

"Shut up, Heero! You know nothing about it! I'm trying to make the money last, and do the best for us, and it's nothing to do with Wufei, OK? We've gotta get going -- we've gotta move on the fastest we can. But then, maybe you fancy helping Quatre out, eh? Maybe with more than a coupla nails and some yard repairs!"

Heero snorted, his mood instantly defensive. "What the fuck are you saying? You are way outta order --"

Trowa raced on -- he was barely in control of his words, now. The Presence was taunting him -- mixing the guys together in his head, confusing him. "Don't be so naïve, Heero -- you can see it as well as I can! He's dripping with it -- the come-on; the buy-one-get-one-free invitation. I saw the way he looked at your ass. The way he drooled over you in the hall, all the time he was spreading his cheeks for a bit of fondling up his hole --"

"You stupid jerk!" yelled Heero. He lurched up to his feet, abruptly. What was going on here? What had happened to Trowa, to turn him like this so suddenly? He couldn't remember them ever arguing -- though maybe it was because he never really disagreed with Trowa before. It had made for an easier life for both of them. He was rapidly rethinking that approach this morning. "Who d'you think you are? I choose what I want to do, OK -- not you! And I'm here with you, aren't I? Leaving it all behind for you! Dammit, you're fucking me, aren't you? What the hell else do you want from me?"

"Stop it, Heero -- I didn't mean -- "

"So what did you mean?" Heero was past compromise, now. It had been a hell of a week so far -- and now no car, no idea where in the damn country he was, apart from being in a small room with a guy who'd turned from lover to abuser in a coupla minutes. "You've always gotta be in charge of everything, Trowa! Money -- car -- who looks at my ass! You don't think I can look after myself, do you? Always the one to say where we go -- when we go -- why we go! What the fuck do you know about me, anyway? You think I'm gonna drop my pants for that hot little half-dressed boy -- when it's you that's drooling over the stud and his sexy food, and his rippling, fucking muscles -!"

Trowa lifted a hand. He was suddenly disorientated; almost nauseous. The Presence was demanding something else of him -- it needed him...

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! OK? Calm down -!"

Heero tried to pull back his racing anger -- the words that seemed to have been festering just under the surface of his daily conversation, for some time now. The feelings that had been repressed there, too. "Trowa - you gonna be like that, I'm outta here, OK? I don't need that! That's what I'm running from, y'know? Telling me what to do -- telling me I'm always wrong -- always stupid --"

Trowa stood as well, and in a single, awkward movement, he clasped Heero to him. He pressed his mouth down on Heero's busy lips, and he thrust his tongue into his mouth to silence him. It was all he could think of doing. It was all he wanted to do. His mouth was greedy, and fierce, and he felt Heero's surprise beneath it; and then his gradual response.

"I didn't mean it, Heero!" he muttered into the dark-haired man's mouth. "I just -- it's just that it's such a change, to be in control of my own life at last -- to be in charge -- not of you -- I just wanna be with you -- " He stopped talking, and began moaning, as his hands ran up under Heero's vest, and sought out the small, erect nipples. Heero arched gently underneath him.

"It was so good, Heero -- last night - I felt so good --"

He pushed them both backwards, up against the bed. Heero's knees buckled, and he rolled on to his back on the newly straightened cover. Trowa came with him, touching; pinching; stroking; kissing --

"Make me feel good again, Heero -- I need you -- I want you so much -- get these damned shorts off, let me touch you --" He struggled with Heero's clothes, until Heero decided to help him. He pushed his shorts down, the boxers as well; helped Trowa tug his own pants off.

"Guess the day's too hot to go out until after lunch..." he gasped, as Trowa knelt at his hips, moaning soft sounds into the creases of his naked groin. He was aroused, now, as fierce and eager as the first time -- as the last time. As any time! Trowa's hands were on his waist -- then pinching a nipple -- then his tongue was reaching for the tip of Heero's cock, sipping at the drops leaking out. We've never done it in the daytime, thought Heero, dizzy with desire. It felt very different. Lots of things were feeling very different at the moment...

"Yeah...We -- should stay in here a while. And we gotta keep ourselves amused, right?" whispered Trowa, and his tongue slid down the soft, warm skin of his lover's shaft. He couldn't believe his desperation -- the agony of suspense in his balls. The terrible need for it -- the need for Heero. He lifted his face back up to Heero, kissing at his chin -- searching for his neck, his tongue. The taste of him. "What do you want, Heero? Tell me whatever you want, I just want to fuck you -- what do you want?"

"Fuck me," Heero whispered in reply. He took hold of Trowa's soft hair, smelled the faint traces of both motor and cooking oil in the strands that brushed his face. He sighed, imperceptibly. He pressed him gently back down towards his groin -- he spread his legs in blatant invitation. "Just fuck me. As hard as you like. That's all I want, too."

Heero stirred lightly in his sleep. From the open window, the noonday sun shone on his face, lighting up the moisture on his lips; the slight sheen of sweat on his heated body. His sleep was deep from exhaustion and the listlessness that came from the incessant heat. But disturbed, too, because he slept so rarely in the daytime. His hand had been flung across Trowa's leg; but now he drew it back. He clutched it around himself, instead. It was an unconscious withdrawal, and never felt by the other sleeping man. Heero gave a soft, drowsy moan -- his body was aching and a little bruised, and his dreams were unusually chaotic.

The voice in his head was low, and soft, and it tugged at something inside him that he never knew he had.

In his dreams, he knew he'd heard it before. It was asking something of him. It needed his permission. For what, he had no idea.

It whispered to him. It called to him; begged for him to come.

You are not anyone's to possess, Heero. You know that. I know that. Come and whisper that to me...I will understand...

Heero shook his head a little, as if to clear it. As if to push the voice away; to deny it. And as he turned away from the window, reaching instinctively in his sleep for his lover, the voice laughed.

But the laugh was bitter.

On to part five. Back to part three.