The Challenge | By : Eliztric Category: Gundam Wing/AC > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 1508 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing/AC, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
Hello again! The vast number of hits and few reviews (which will be mentioned further in a moment) have prompted me to give in and get juicy. Well, actually, I really wanted to see ‘Fei and Quatre get it on, so…voila. After all, Quatre still has six days to “convince” ‘Fei, right? Am I right?
Anyway, I hope that the fact that it’s getting a little dirtier now will incite some REVIEWS! Five! A grand total of five! After what, almost 200 hits? I can’t tell if I’m complaining or being ecstatic at you. I really can’t. But I would love more reviews, so here’s your inspiration come knocking.
Speaking of reviews! Thank you, DuosAngel. I do believe I might have read some of your fics in the past, and (like the people I’m criticizing - wow, hypocritical of me, isn’t it? Sorry, guys…You know I love you.) never commented. Thanks for being braver than I am!
And again, to The Reader - the only pairings I truly ‘ship’ for are 1x2/2x1 and 3x4/4x3. I think everyone should ship for Trowa and Quatre because they’re so adorable it makes me want to molest my television sometimes, and Duo and Heero…well. What else do I have to say? Thanks for not being picky, though! I guess in my head I’ve always had this thing, about there being a place for everything…and Wufei’s always so left out. Very much the inspiration for this fic in…about seven syllables. It seems to be a good thing, that I’m wordy. Otherwise there’d be nothing for anyone to read about, and I’d be back to being bored out of my skull.
I also appreciate your comments about the quality of this fic. It makes me happy, to hear you say that you want to read more, and yet more happy, to know that you think it doesn’t really need betaing. So it looks like we are experiencing a mutual honored-and-overjoyed-fest. Thank you for giving me something to work on - keeping you, my Reader, happy. Well, all the readers, but you, too.
As for your grip - I think you’ll be fine. We are, it seems, both of the ‘impatient’ category!
So give me a hint, and maybe I’ll take it.
- The Author
The Chinese man opened his bedroom door to find a Quatre dressed similarly to himself, except that his shirt was a dark navy blue tee and his pants were of a soft brown fabric that sagged on the Arabian’s hips, enough to expose the tops of his boxers. In the half light Wufei tried to discern what colour the pinstripes were against the white fabric. Pink? Or…was it red? Or both? Purple, maybe?
Wufei’s pulse throbbed in his throat as Quatre raised his arms up to stretch, the dark fabric bunching up and exposing the smooth, pale skin of the blonde’s abdomen, lit faintly rosy with the sunset streaming in through the high circular window over the staircase, golden where it tripped over the fine collection of fair hairs that led a sunny path from the base of his sternum down, down, down, past his belly button, beneath the rim of his boxers, and -
“Seven-thirty already!” Quatre fairly chirped, lowering his arms and tugging his shirt more or less back into place. It still bunched up a little around his sides, obviously a close fit.
“Is it?” Wufei replied, leaning against the doorjamb and pretending he hadn’t been staring. At least they were both pink in this light, which made his flush unnoticeable. Quatre had never, to his knowledge, dressed like this before. He found himself caught briefly by the memory of the milky expanse of unmarred skin over lithe muscles, the flaxen pathway…the arch of the blonde’s spine…
“Yes!” Quatre replied, shattering Wufei‘s daydream, “I’m starving, ‘Fei,” he whined. “Let’s go eat before I fall over and die.”
“Is this suitable for where we are headed?” Wufei asked, standing up straight and holding out his arms slightly for inspection. Quatre obligingly stepped back a little, further into the shadowed part of the hall, as if this would make Wufei more visible. With his hands on his hips, Quatre slowly dragged his eyes up Wufei’s body, starting at his feet, up his legs, lingering a little at his hips, before scanning up the path of the pearlescent buttons that held Wufei’s shirt closed, his gaze igniting fire everywhere it graced, until the greatest heat gathered finally in the Chinese man’s face as his eyes locked with Quatre’s. The Arabian advanced, expression dark and the smile on his face enigmatically curved.
Wufei’s breath caught repeatedly as he found himself trapped against the unrelenting wood of his closed doorway. The low sound the blonde made in his throat seemed to be of approval, but his dark-haired counterpart was too busy holding his breath as a pale hand darted out, closing the distance between their bodies at the point of Wufei’s cheek, to notice this and interpret it as positive. No, he was too busy being lost in the intensity of the colour of the Arabian‘s eyes, entranced by the emotion within them that made Wufei burn.
He bit his tongue to stifle the gasp that came as Quatre’s fingertips skated across the plane of his cheek and up, to his ear, collecting raven-black strands of hair as they went, before with a slight broadening of that enigmatic smile into something almost familiar, the blonde tucked the black strands behind the shell of Wufei’s ear. Wufei let out his breath sharply as his weak spot was deftly encountered by the feather-light touch, feeling as if someone had lit a box of matches inside his abdomen. To this slight slip of the tongue, Quatre’s smile increased as his eyelids lowered to half-mast and he looked up at Wufei through his lashes. “You look nice with your hair down,” the blonde murmured, tilting his head at that horribly audacious, jaunty angle that made Wufei want to jump his bones like nothing else in all the colonies and Earth put together. He was close enough, too, all he had to do was -
“They’d be fools, to think of daring to turn down such a handsome man as yourself, when all he wants is something to eat with a friend,” Quatre said, drawing away quicker than Wufei had expected, which meant the Chinese Preventer was suddenly leaning forward to kiss empty air. Flustered, he straightened as if he had meant to do that, and followed Quatre down the stairs without further prompting.
He was still flushed when Quatre led him to the garage, where the blonde turned to him in the darkness and asked, “Which one do you want?”
‘You,’ Wufei thought automatically, before replying, “The red one,” in a voice that was at a lower pitch than usual. ‘Damn straight it is,’ a part of Wufei that threw slang around like Duo Maxwell (and may have been greatly inspired by the American early on in its existence) told the rest of him, ‘You’re hornier than a dog in heat! Hell, you ARE the heat, there’s nothing else left! Quatre’s set the rest of you on fire! No wonder your voice sounds like smoke…’
“The red one it is,” Quatre said, before reaching behind them and flicking the bay lights that swung freely from the garage rafters on. Wufei spotted the car he desperately wanted to screw the blonde senseless in the backseat of immediately - because it was right in front of him, out of sheer miraculousness.
“Lucky pick,” Quatre agreed, walking towards the vehicle assertively.
“Wait, you’re driving?” Wufei asked.
“Well, I know where we’re going,” Quatre said, hands on his hips, looking like he was about to pout - if it weren’t for that telltale glint in his eyes Wufei would’ve taken straight to the task of placating him. However, something told Wufei that Quatre knew very, very well what was going on inside Wufei’s pants, and neither of them needed to look down to check.
“You drive like a maniac,” Wufei said, unable to keep the heat from rising to his cheeks.
“You’re not much better,” Quatre replied with a grin. “Come on, get in,” he called, opening the door and gesturing to it. Wufei walked over and made to get in, but found himself halted by a firm hand on his shoulder and then another turning his face towards the Arabian’s.
“I’m sorry, ‘Fei,” Quatre said, sincerity blooming on his features, before it was eradicated with another very sincere looking emotion - ‘longing, lust, arousal, pick an adjective, it’s all yours,’ Wufei thought in the spare second he had to interpret it - and his foil spoke again, voice dark and throaty like earlier that afternoon as he said, “But I can’t wait.”
Wufei had never had his space violated so wonderfully before. Quatre was everywhere - one hand was in the curve of Wufei‘s spine, the other still cupped his face but tangled partially in the loose strands of dark hair - pressed against his body above the car door, in the air Wufei was rapidly forgetting to breathe, brushing his lips with his own. In the darkness of recklessly closed eyelids Wufei yielded naturally to the pressure, the warmth it brought him usurping his logic, entire body focused on the few points where he and Quatre made contact skin-to-skin. Before he knew it the kiss seemed like it was ending, though it felt as if it had barely begun. So Wufei took the initiative to follow Quatre’s mouth with his, applying his own kind of pressure to the pair of lips against his own.
One of Wufei’s hands had come up to tangle in Quatre’s hair out of subconscious movement, and it was with hesitance that Quatre pulled away, gasping for air in the few inches Wufei relented. He doubted if he knew it, but Quatre could hear Wufei begin breathing again, just as hurriedly and depravedly as Quatre was himself. Daring to flick his eyes upwards, Quatre found himself staring suddenly into the coal-black eyes of Chang Wufei, a tightness filling his chest that barely overrode the heat that had touched him so uniquely. Wufei’s cheeks were obviously flushed, and his eyes glittered as they regarded the smaller pilot, reddened lips parted as if he were going to speak, but found himself lacking words as much as breath to do so.
“I’m s-sorry, ‘Fei,” Quatre breathed, feeling his own face bloom with hot colour - perhaps the deepest flush he’d ever felt in his life. “I - mmph!” he attempted to protest as he found himself suddenly cut off by the return of Wufei’s lips to his own. For a few heartbeats (though the blonde’s were going so fast they were all an inseperable blur), all the Chinese pilot did was hold him there, against his lips, at first firmly, and then gently, as gradually he began to brush his lips against Quatre’s, the hand in the blonde strands of hair cupping the Arabian’s skull comfortingly. Without thinking, Quatre relaxed into the kiss, letting his lips part, and a sigh escape him, eyelids drifting closed. ‘Perfect,’ he thought to himself, just as Wufei whispered against his mouth, “Don’t be, little one.”
He didn’t know what changed, but he didn’t mind, as his gasp was caught in between a voracious, hungry kiss and this softer one. The hand on his head tightened, pressed him closer to Wufei, the car door a firm pressure against his body as Quatre strained to comply. Anything to be closer to Wufei, who now nipped at Quatre’s lower lip, before lapping at it lightly, then drawing it into Wufei’s mouth where he began to suck on it lightly, in such a way that Quatre felt his knees turn to water and his hands dug into Wufei’s shoulders as the temperature rose inside his body and he nearly lost equilibrium. When the taller pilot slipped his tongue into Quatre’s mouth, the blonde could taste the faint metallic flavour of blood, which jolted his senses like a live wire.
Now Quatre was battling with Wufei for dominance of the kiss, which the Chinese pilot didn’t mind. He chuckled slightly as the blonde strained to beat him back, and then follow the kiss into Wufei’s mouth. He couldn’t yield, though a part of him ached to - a new ache was starting, and it was up higher - in his chest. Wufei prepared himself to be sealed off, pressing hotly against the blonde’s lips, fingertips massaging their purchase slightly, before with a last, chaste kiss he pulled away, releasing Quatre almost regretfully. Almost. There were still things he needed to know…things that outweighed kissing the Arabian until the sun came up or someone experienced cardiac arrest.
“Wufei,” Quatre exhaled, looking rumpled and fuckable. “Wh-what is it?”
“I’m…confused,” Wufei admitted. “Not about kissing you,” he added quickly, feeling hot again, “I…I liked that part.” he paused, suddenly shy - a new feeling for the Chinese man. “But…why?”
“Can I…” Quatre said, still catching his breath, heart pounding in his chest, “Can I tell you o-over dinner?” he broke for air, feeling rushed and hot and hungry, “P-Please, Wufei,” Quatre added. The pause of silence nearly killed him right there. Wufei was slightly disheveled but it looked damn good on him - his flush, his wrinkled shirt, his dark eyes gleaming as they fixed on him, saying a thousand things in his gaze that the red, slightly swollen lips hadn’t with words. And yet Wufei was the picture of someone not overcome with confusion, but knowledgeable - educated. Quatre let out a small breath - or perhaps took one in a little sharply than usual - at having pinpointed it. Wufei was educated, no fool, no novice, a hot coal waiting to burn and well aware of just how to do it.
“Alright,” Wufei agreed, “But you will leave nothing out. When I ask you a question, I want the whole answer.” he leaned forward, over the car door, to capture Quatre’s chin in his hand, “Or you’ll suffer the consequences. Understand, little one?”
Quatre shivered at the husky tone to Wufei’s voice. Oh, he hoped those consequences were the ones he was thinking of…licking his lips, the blonde nodded.
“I asked you a question,” Wufei reminded darkly. The blonde felt hot again, hotter than before. Wufei was definitely no fool…had he done this before? Quatre wondered for a heartbeat before answering vocally, the way Trowa had always told him he loved when they did it like this, “Yes, sir.”
“Yes, who?” Wufei prompted, eyes glittering.
“Yes, Wufei…?” Quatre exhaled, feeling the shivers start again, a compressed trembling out of his control - the sign of his loss of it. “Good boy,” Wufei murmured, pulling away a little, smoothing down Quatre’s rumpled hair before commanding, “Get in. I’ll be driving.”
Quatre did as he was told, and carefully slid into the front passenger’s seat, fumbling with the buckle as Wufei shut the door and walked around to the other side of the car, where he slid lithely into the driver’s seat. If he noticed Quatre’s barely suppressed shivering he showed no sign of it, buckling himself in and starting the ignition, before flicking the dashboard switch that opened the garage bay door and wheeling them out of it and onto the driveway, while the blonde squirmed. Once they had pulled out of the carport Wufei flicked the switch again, and it slid smoothly shut behind them.
“Where are we going?” Wufei asked, maneuvering the vehicle to the gate, where they sat, engine thrumming, as the Chinese man waited for Quatre’s reply. It took a moment for the Arabian to summon his voice, but he managed to say, “South End Café,” without stutter. Wufei nodded, keying in the exit code to the gate before he revved the engine and drove them past it, out onto the darkened street, silence heavy in the air between them.
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