Every planned occupation
Surefire disappointment up ahead
Till they treat ya like desert
See mirages of friendship, face turns read
Here's the soon to be anchor
Build bridges to nothing, you'll get nowhere
-Tundra/Desert, Modest Mouse
I feel Yuy straining to go to the long-haired boy after his whispered "Oyasumi" and his descent into unconsciousness.
"Go on," I say. "Tend to him if you must."
"Are you giving me your permission?" he asks dangerously, and I'm struck again by how much I'm attracted to his hostility; we are possibly the most alike of the five pilots, and yet we clash more than anyone, though not as overtly as he does with the American.
The American, Maxwell, who confuses me to no end, sending these feelings I have for Yuy spinning even higher and more out of control. In both of them, I feel complete, and I want them equally.
"Do with it what you will. It's not my concern."
His eyes linger on mine a moment more, something heavy in that gaze, before he turns away and kneels over Maxwell, efficiently checking for major injuries and broken bones, even as he tries to conceal his tender, glancing touches. How can he think I will miss those glimpses of true concern, which give light to how he really feels about the other boy?
I watch closely as Maxwell sighs, his head lolling to the side almost by instinct, his cheek resting against Yuy's thigh. Now the Japanese boy doesn't even try to hide the look in his eyes when he brushes the boy's hair out of his face, tugging his mangled braid out from under him to stroke its tip with a thumb. No, he's not trying to hide anything, I decide, but I know if he were to look up at me, he would be a different person.
I've never wanted so much to be either one of them, to have what they have found in each other. Or perhaps I simply want them, both of them; to discover that something for myself.
It's cold in the cell, and yet I feel a flash of heat when I think about being with the two of them. Maxwell writhing against me, his small hands everywhere at once, Yuy's strong jaw against mine as he nips my ear, his breath stirring my hair.
My usually loose pants feel constricting in this sudden heat, and I have to look away from them, even as the American begins to stir.
"Heero," I hear him whisper, and I give into the urge to let my eyes drift back to them.
He's propped up on his elbows, tracing two pale fingers over the darker skin of the hand clutching his braid. So intimate. I force my breathing to remain even.
The Japanese pilot doesn't move, and the cold light is back in his eyes, although it doesn't seem to affect Maxwell. "Feeling okay?"
"One hundred and ten percent." Maxwell groans and flops backwards, his other hand going to his head. "Well, okay, make that a hundred five."
I think I catch a smirk pass briefly over Yuy's face and he gives a tug on the braid and fingers he has in his grasp. "Is that all?"
My eyes drop to the floor. It's just not right to be watching them like this.
"Hey, even I have an off day sometimes."
Meditation. Meditation will help me now. I just need to concentrate on something else, concentrate on what I will do when we escape.
I don't need them, I whisper to myself. I don't need anyone.
I lay on my side, facing the wall, and squeeze my eyes shut. I must ignore the sudden lack of conversation behind me, ignore the knowledge of what I know is happening. It is difficult to banish the thought of them from my mind, but I know I must if I want any peace.
Maxwell makes a low noise in his throat and I am instantly aroused. I tell myself it's all right to find them attractive. They are beautiful and strong, and I will do nothing but lay here.
I am on a path that I must see through to the end. Any contact with them will destroy me, will put my revenge from my mind, and I can't allow that to happen.
But I'm lonely, so lonely, something inside me says. My belly hurts, sharp little pains that run all the way down my legs to the soles of my feet. I curl into myself, my manacled hands digging into my abdomen. It hurts to be alone, I think. But not as much as it could hurt--
I feel heat against my back, a presence crouching over me. I can't believe I didn't hear him coming.
"Maxwell," I say flatly, hoping he will go away, go back to Yuy and his life, and leave me to this. It's what I deserve.
"Wufei, you don't have to be alone right now."
I roll over to face him, sitting half up. "We are all alone, Maxwell. That's what warriors do, that's the life they have chosen."
He pushes himself up off the balls of his feet and stands over me. "You chose this, Wufei? This isn't what I would've taken, if I had had a choice." He scrutinizes me, his small face furrowing in a rare frown. "And I don't think you ever a had a choice about this. Being alone, I mean."
He holds a hand out to me, palm down, as is my custom. "Never had a choice. Until now."
"Why?" I say defiantly.
"Because we could die tomorrow. Because I want to. We want to." His fingers twitch. "You want to."
I find that this gesture is the thing I am not able to resist: the smooth top of his hand, the downy hairs I can just barely see in the dim light.
I rise slowly, and meet him with my palm against his, and he pulls me towards him.
My eyes flick to Yuy, kneeling where the American left him, and he is watching me intently, his serious gaze asking me if I'm all right.
I nod shortly, just as Duo puts my hand on the top of his overshirt, guiding my fingers to unbutton it. "No need to be alone," he says and his right hand falls to his side, where Heero is already waiting to take the fingers into his mouth, tenderly, and I'm not sure I've ever seen such emotion on the dark-haired boy's face.
Duo's left hand curls around my neck, and I need no more urging to lean forward and kiss him, as my fingers work at the hidden buttons of his shirt.
It may be the best thing I've ever felt; I think this must be what it feels like not to be alone, the thought being so very foreign after a lifetime of self-imposed isolation.
Duo smiles against my mouth as he sinks to the ground, guiding me carefully. Heero pushes the long-haired pilot's braid aside, brushes back a few strands of errant hair that have escaped my ponytail. He's watching us, as intensely as he does everything else, and I find that it only makes me hotter.
Just these small touches have set my insides on fire, and I fumble slightly getting the last of Duo's buttons open, hearing one pop off in my haste, skittering across the cell floor.
He breaks away and laughs for a moment, before the laugh turns to a moan as Heero slides his hand inside his shirt, pinching his nipples through the thin white cotton of his undershirt. He squirms against me, rolling his hips forward, and I gasp as his erection meets mine.
My head falls back at this unexpected sensation, my hands clenching the open edges of his shirt. My hands are still chained, I realize almost dumbly, and I'm unsure how to proceed.
"Take it off him," Heero says softly, staring at my chained hands on Duo's shirt, small stains of red appearing high on his cheekbones.
I comply as best I can, my hands shaking when I push the material down the American's arms, one at a time, slowly.
I've never done this before. I'm not sure that I can do it now. But I'm so warm where before I was freezing, and there are finally hands touching me, holding me, reassuring me.
I glance back at Heero's face, and his eyes are closed, hands in Duo's hair. He removes a lock pick from that mass of hair, and the braided boy barely notices, purring and stroking my hair as Heero continues to massage his neck.
With his other hand, he deftly undoes my manacles in one swift motion, and I shiver when the cool air touches my skin. The Japanese boy raises one of my hands to his lips and draws two digits gently into his mouth, rolling them around with his tongue, suckling softly. He's so gentle, I can't believe this is the assassin I've been fighting alongside for months.
It's a discovery, a wonderful, awe-filled discovery, and I feel my whole body flush.
Bright violet eyes watch us, flick from my face to Heero's, and Duo's fingers dance over my body, sliding into my clothes and easing them off, then turning his attention to Heero, who is now massaging my palm, still sucking ardently on my fingers.
I can barely watch as the Japanese boy's skin is revealed, hard muscles shifting as his hands work mine.
"Now me," Duo says, a hint of a smile playing around his lips. "One handed," he adds, clasping Heero's wrist lightly, holding my hand to his lover's mouth.
It's not as hard as I thought it would be, and when I finally work his riding pants off of him, I find it hard to breathe. He is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, all smooth, soft flesh over ropy muscles. The boy stretches, almost cat-like, across my lap, twisting his body so he can keep sight of Heero's mouth.
Then I follow the line of his arm up, past his elbow, past his wrist, to where he is joined to the other boy. Both of them. Both of them, together, are the most beautiful things I've ever seen.
And they're mine. Finally, they are mine. And I am theirs.
And I know there must be more to this, or I will go insane from the feelings inside of me.
Heero pulls his fingers from my mouth and trails them over Duo's lower back, causing the other pilot to shiver, his eyes closed, his whole body strung tight. He spreads the American open with his other hand, and then his thick fingers are pushing slowly inside the small pucker he finds there.
Duo arches his spine, pushing back against Heero's hand, and small mewling noises escape his throat. The Japanese boy's eyes catch mine as he adds a third finger quickly, deliberately hard, and Duo hisses, "Yes."
I can barely keep my eyes open now, and my hands are trailing over Heero's body of their own accord.
"C'mere," Duo gasps out, Heero thrusting those capable fingers in and out of his body. "'Fei, here, c'mere."
Heero nods, not smiling, but his face softer, encouraging. I slide against his body as I align myself with the American, delighting in his small, sharp exhalation.
Duo all but snatches my hips and drags them closer, sucking furiously on two fingers. I know what he's going to do, and my erection leaps against my belly.
He grins around the fingers, his other hand digging into my thigh as he spreads my legs apart. Another shudder wracks his body, and he pulls his fingers from his mouth wetly, moaning, "Oh, yeah, Heero." His pelvis rolls backwards, and he forces the other boy's fingers deeper inside him. "I don't know how much longer I can do this," he rasps.
Heero smirks, and I have a feeling this is a game they've played often. "We'll see, then, won't we?"
I need to touch myself now, the sight of the two of them too much, but Duo grabs my wrist as my hand drifts down my stomach.
"No, no," he breathes. "That won't do at all. Just wait, Wufei, wait..." And his fingers, long, slim fingers in direct contrast to his lover's, wet with saliva, run behind my balls and find my opening, rubbing the flesh in small circles.
My belly tightens sharply, and it's all I can do to keep myself still.
Heero reaches out and grabs my chin, forcing my gaze up to meet his. "Look at me."
I nod, and it's even better when I feel the tip of one of Duo's fingers enter me, worming its way past the ring of muscle. The feeling is a little odd, and I feel myself tense up.
Then Duo's breath comes across my straining arousal, and I instantly relax, my muscles turning liquid. Suddenly, there are two fingers inside of me, and I know that I'm close to something, to a feeling I've been trying to find my whole life.
A third finger, and there is a measure of pain that comes along with it, but Heero's eyes, now steady and full of trust and encouragement, help me relax further.
I feel as though there is something missing, something that I need, something that goes along with this feeling of being filled. My hand drifts again to my arousal and Duo lets me this time, watching my fingers intently.
I no sooner have run my fingers down my length, when he thrusts his hand gently against me and I feel it--
My hips jerk sharply forwards, and I cry out, "Duì!"
Duo groans and I look down to see him staring at me. "God, say that again, 'Fei. Say anything." His fingers pull out and then thrust forcefully back into me, and stars explode across my eyes.
"Duì," I say again, raggedly. "That's good, so--" in again, harder, and I know I'm so close to coming just from this, "--good. Hen hao, hen --"
Heero pulls Duo away from me suddenly, and flips him onto his back. "You, too, huh?" the American says cheekily. "Just listening to him makes me want to come right now."
"I think Wufei wants more, too," Heero says roughly. "And so do I."
More. I can't imagine what more there could be, and my heart leaps in my chest to think that I may find that feeling that I was so close to, even though I feel so empty now.
Duo winds one arm around me, pulling me close to him, even as he stretches his neck up to capture Heero's mouth in a searing kiss. I watch their tongues tangle in the small space between them as he pulls away and I feel Heero's fingers probing my entrance.
I involuntarily thrust my hips forward, and my erection rubs against Duo's causing the long-haired boy to squirm and let out a low keening noise.
The Japanese pilot grunts and strokes my lower back, guiding me into position above Duo, who is staring at me half-lidded, spreading his legs and drawing his knees up around his shoulders.
For a moment I hesitate, not sure what to do. But then Heero's fingers are touching me, gently leading me forward, until the head of my arousal rests against Duo's tight entrance.
Duo leans up and touches my cheek with one hand, running his fingers through Heero's bangs with his other. "It's okay, Wufei. It'll feel so good, I promise."
I start slowly, pushing my way forward carefully, afraid of hurting the boy under me. His eyes close and a long hiss escapes clenched teeth, his hand tightening in Heero's hair, the hand on my cheek slipping down to rest against the curve of my rear.
I stop, sure that it must be painful for him. "Duo--"
"Oh, no you don't," his forces out, his fingers digging into my bottom, and he pulls, hard. I slide all the way to the hilt in one thrust, and when my pelvis comes into contact with his, Duo's head sinks back with a groan, and he pulls Heero's head forward to rest in the crook of my shoulder.
And the feeling, the feeling of being inside of Duo, this is it.
This is what I've been searching for, surrounded and protected, as I've never let myself before. "Jin... ni feichang jin," I gasp out; the tight warmth of Duo is home, and as I rock my hips against him, he shudders, reaching one hand out to touch my lips wonderingly.
"It gets better."
That's Heero, speaking in my ear, and I feel that his fingers have been stretching me as I entered Duo, preparing me for the next step.
I hold myself still as I feel the head of Heero's erection prodding my entrance, but Duo writhes against me, his rich tenor demanding that Heero hurry and get on with it. I feel the Japanese boy's almost feral grin against the nape of my neck as he slowly, slowly pushes in, and the pleasure and pain is excruciating. "Qing," I plead, one hand scrabbling at his hip. "Qing, I need--"
Duo under me grins impishly and thrust his pelvis against mine, throwing me back, impaling me on Heero. And as his eyes slide shut, as I shout, as I feel Heero's teeth clamp down on my shoulder, I watch the sharp expression that he's been trying to mask with those elfin features take shape, the edge of need and desperation that he keeps so well veiled.
And now I've found what I've been looking for, this feeling of coming home inside of Duo, the feeling of being filled by Heero. Never alone again, not in my quest, not in my head, not in my soul, that's been drying up with each passing day. These two have completed me, and I am the bridge between them: I watch with satisfaction as I draw out of Duo slightly and the sharpness in his face fades a bit, replaced by satiation; I feel Heero's indrawn, shuddering breath as he seats himself deeper inside of me, and his hands gentle on my hips.
I've never felt quite like this before. I didn't know living could be like this.
For a moment, we move quietly, gently against each other. I pull out of the long-haired boy beneath me and push back onto the stoic one behind me; then Heero draws out and pushes me almost lovingly forward, my shaft disappearing slowly into Duo's depths.
Nothing but sighs fill the air, content in this time of strife.
Duo's feet are bumping against my arms, and Heero lets go of one of my hips to grasp one of the American's ankles, hitching his knee over both our shoulders. He turns his head, pulls out of me, pushes me into Duo, then kisses and licks at the boy's pale, lithe calf. I watch as tiny goosebumps mar the boy's smooth flesh, racing down his thighs.
I turn and my own tongue flickers out to join the dark-haired boy's tongue, tangling with it for a moment before I dip my head as low as I can to drag a wet line an inch or so down Duo's flesh. When I can't go any further, I let go of Duo's hip and let my fingers continue the path, stopping only when I reach the apex of his thighs, where his erection jumps and throbs.
I grasp it and squeeze without warning, and the boy's hips jerk wildly, thrusting me forcefully back on Heero, who now, with a groan, latches onto my shoulder again, pulling out of me and slamming back in.
I cry out, pounding into Duo, whose head thrashes on the floor, hair wild, dancing in his flushed face.
Our rhythm is set quickly, dissolves even quicker as we race towards release. My blood is singing in my veins, pounding in my ears; the sensations of taking and being taken are too much, overwhelming. I mutter incoherencies in Mandarin, even as I hear Heero doing the same in Japanese, his hot breath washing over my neck and pooling in the dip of my collarbone.
Duo is screaming, clutching at anything he can, his body twisting frantically, "Yes, yes, that's it," over and over, and I don't think I can take much more.
Suddenly, Duo's eyes snap open, and he stares at his lover over my shoulder, mouthing his name, begging him to push harder, deeper.
Heero's hand, flesh a shade darker than mine, reaches around me to pet the boy's belly.
"I'm..." Duo gasps quietly, his eyes locked with Heero's. "I'm..."
I close my eyes tightly when Duo clamps down hard around me, his neck arching backwards as he shudders violently under me, and I feel his sticky warmth flood my hand and spill over my belly. Heero slams into me from behind, both hands now grasping Duo's hips; I answer with my own thrust forward, hard, as deep as I can into the American, and something inside of me snaps, throwing me over the edge and dragging the dark haired boy with me.
Duo cries out quietly, deliberately holding himself back, as though he hadn't been screaming a moment before. "Heero, Heero," he breathes, cool breath washing over my heated skin.
But it is me inside of him, me bringing him to this oblivion. And still, "God, Heero."
I feel a flash of anger and snap my hips forwards again, determined to hear my name from his lips. But even as I struggle to hold on, I feel him, both of them, slipping away.
Heero grunts softly, his voice far away. My eyes fly open, and I find myself quite cold where I had just now been warm, staring at the damp cell wall in the almost darkness.
Behind me, somewhere in the cell, I hear the soft slap of flesh against flesh, Duo crooning Heero's name, the Japanese boy's harsh breath the loudest sound in the small space.
Gods, no. No, please no.
My hand tightens convulsively on my softening erection, and I realize with a sickening lurch in my stomach that the warm seed coating my fingers is my own.
Why do I do this?
Yuy gives a short, sharp cry, and if I close my eyes again, I'm sure I could see the image of the two of them, shaking and rocking together, burning in my mind. I know it will hurt even as I let myself, my eyes sliding closed, my hand jerking one last time on my cock, roughly, as though I could get myself back to that place I was just moments before.
I feel so empty. Why do I feel so empty?
My insatiable imagination. I would never have them, and somehow, this torture of pretending I could -- of imagining my hand on myself Maxwell's body, my loosened hair the American's curtain of silk, my palm pressed against my backside and my fingers inside myself Yuy's strong body on me, in me -- makes me feel whole. The pain, arcing so surely through me, reminds me that I am truly alone, reminds me of what I have to fight for, to avenge.
My legs are shaking. I feel as though there's a gaping hole inside of me, and a terrible block of cold against me.
And for one moment there is a wealth of pain and incomprehension at what is happening; for one moment, I know true despair as my body is immobilized with pain. My head feels strangely detached from my body -- my body, screaming in agony, cold and hot all at once, my skin turned inside out, the nerves raw and broken.
I reach to grab my head, to pull it back to reality, to help me contain this, but I can't move, because the pain is so overwhelming, breaking me...
A thread of a whisper in my head: I can't take this anymore. Please.
And suddenly, as suddenly as I found myself horrifyingly alone, it all stops, and I'm numb. I will take it, I tell myself savagely. I will.
Because these pilots could make me forget, if I let them. They could make me want them, could make me give up my quest to be with them, to fight for what they are fighting for. And I cannot let that happen. So as my brain wants to unravel these fantasies, lure me into their spell, I manage to twist it, sending hot shards through my belly as I realize with cold finality every time, that I have always been and will always be alone.
Somewhere, deep inside of me, the boy I once was, who breathed words like they were more important than air, who conjured up stories and wove magical tales of peace, who lived quite happily in his own writing, cries brokenly, reaching out plaintively for the two bright spots in his dark life.
Please, don't leave me alone. I hate being so alone, so empty without you, both of you.
They can't leave me, as I've never had them to begin with. The boy screams his denial: the feelings just tumbling through me were so real, surely they were real...
Another wave of pain, this one subsiding as quickly as it comes.
I beat him down, as I have for years, as I will continue to do until this war is over.
I must, for he has no place here, although I let him think he does for a few blissful moments. It makes the pain all that much more sharp when I am brought back from oblivion, and each time, the boy sinks deeper and deeper, until one day I will have no use for him anymore, when the fire of vengeance will be enough to sustain me.
There is a rustle behind me as the two boys pull on their clothes, probably still holding each other, oblivious to my presence. But I don't turn and look. That would be too much to bear, and I'm afraid the boy will break free.
So I stare at the wall, listening to their low whispers, and I curl into myself, wishing fervently that this will be the last time, that now I am purged.