Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, wish
I did, just enjoy writing about ‘em for free etc
Pairings: 1x2, 3x4, 3x5
Category: PWP
Warnings: Yaoi, lemon
Spoilers: None
Notes: Santa needs a new marketing offensive –
he knows just the movie studio to help him!
Feedback: If you liked it, PLEASE let me know!
Another Christmas ‘Pocky’ fic! Thanks for the
inspiration, Lisa-chan!
“What the hell is this meant to be?” Quatre stood with legs braced, hand on his
hip, and a darkening expression on his attractive brow. He would have been the picture of an
imperious general, or even a royal prince, if he hadn’t been dressed in nothing
but a brief red satin thong and knee-length red leather motorcycle boots. With buckles. In his outstretched hand he gripped a sheaf
of papers, pinned together hastily, and covered in stripes from
various-coloured highlighter pens. He
waved it, agitatedly. “Absolute
drivel, from the title page onwards!
Santa Claus is Cumming to Town? Puh-lease! And am I really expected to do that with Wufei, and Goddamit,
in a reindeer suit?”
Trowa didn’t even look
up. He held a green pen between his
teeth; a yellow one stained his fingers as he moved them swiftly over his own
copy of the script. He sat hunched in
his Director’s chair, dressed in casual shorts and a tee shirt with a
washed-out “WrinkletheSheets Productions” logo on it. “I wish the hell you had something else to
occupy your time at lunch break that didn’t involve me!” he hissed. “I’m trying
to work against a deadline here, y’know.”
Quatre raised a carefully
shaped eyebrow, knowing how it accentuated the shine of his big blue eyes. “I thought that was what I was here for,” he
said, in a deceptively smooth tone.
“Join me for lunch, love, you said.
Come to my trailer, where I have deliciously effective heating on this
miserable December day; slip off your shirt and make yourself comfortable, you
said, and we’ll share some unusual stage
directions –“ His
voice was rising. Judging from the
straining satin at the front of the thong, so was something else.
Trowa sighed. He put down the sheets and gave an apologetic
shrug. “It’s the client, Quat,” he
said. “You understand how it is? She’s something else; no-one’s ever been so
demanding! If we don’t get this film
special shot in the next week, it won’t be out for Christmas, and we’ll all be
scrabbling for new jobs.”
“If I don’t get this shot in the next five minutes…” murmured
Quatre, rubbing suggestively at his groin.
The shape underneath his fingers was impressively long; hungrily
thick. He flashed a hot gaze up at Trowa
from underneath his long blond lashes.
Trowa groaned with the anticipation of defeat.
“Just learn the script,
“I like pastiche, too,”
sighed Quatre, sinking to his graceful knees in front of Trowa’s lap. “With a thick creamy sauce –“
Trowa opened his mouth to
scorn the attractive young man’s joke, but he clamped it shut again as the
nimble fingers peeled open his fly, allowing his own frustrated cock to burst
out into the warm air. “I could hang my
Christmas tree lights on that!” grinned Quatre,
appreciatively. He leant forward, creasing the scattered papers under his knees, and
took the shaft in between his full lips.
Trowa whimpered, and his head fell back against the canvas covering of
the chair. He started to groan in rhythm
with Quatre’s very lively head movements, his mouth moving up and down Trowa’s
cock.
“Now?” murmured Quatre
through his mouthful. “I wouldn’t want
you scrabbling for anything, dear
Trowa, but I can’t think this will take very long, from the taste of it –“
“Now!” moaned Trowa. His body arched up as Quatre slipped his hand
round the back of his pants and down between his cheeks. A slim, long, lubed
finger pressed possessively into Trowa’s ass, and curled around to seek its
target. Trowa yelped; tears came to his
eyes. Then he came, embarrassingly
quickly, with a loud rattling noise in the back of his throat and cum spilling
eagerly into Quatre’s mouth.
The shapely blond grinned,
and slid his sticky mouth off its sweetmeat.
He adjusted one of his boot buckles; he stood up in front of the gasping
Trowa. The brunette gazed at him with
misty eyes – no-one did that manoeuvre quite like Quatre! It had made him the envy of many a casting
conference before now. Trowa dropped his
eyes to Quatre’s exposed cock. That was
also the subject of unadulterated admiration; and rightly so. “My turn now, Mr
Director,” grinned Quatre, eyes bright and feral.
Trowa felt the ache in his
jaw even before he’d started. He dragged
up the last vestiges of his finely-honed negotiation skills. “But you’ll do the movie?”
“Rather do you,” sighed
Quatre. “OK. You talked me into it. Must be that sweet-sucking mouth of
yours…” He reached out, grasped Trowa’s
hair none too gently, and tugged his head forward into his groin.
The trailer rocked for
quite some time after that.
*
“But what exactly is the plot?” asked Duo, a puzzled
expression on his face. “Just some guy visiting the neighbourhood, bringing gifts, kids
running around smiling at him?
Some kinda Public Service broadcast, about the Danger of Strangers?”
Heero rolled his eyes up
and slouched back on their shared bunk, where they were currently sitting,
examining their copy of the new script. “Red suit, Duo – white beard! Soot on his nose! Ring any bells?”
Duo’s eyes lit up, and he
slid a hopeful hand up inside Heero’s vest.
“Like that collar I got you? The one with the sleigh bells? You wanna try that
again, then? You were kinda nervous
about the cats stalking round the trailer the last time…”
Heero flushed hotly. His pants felt too tight again; like they had
done every day since he got together with Duo.
It was a common occurrence. He
knew the only way to pacify his aching groin involved them finding the nearest
– and hopefully most exciting – place to fuck.
And soon! “No, Duo, please listen –“
there was the tinge of desperation in his voice. “Try and get the context of the movie – it’s
the night before Christmas - “ Whatever his body wanted, he had to get Duo to read this script
before morning, else they’d be late for shooting again, and Trowa had already
docked them another day’s pay for that little incident in front of the camera crew
with Duo astride the sound boom…
“You mean it’s about Santa,
on his Christmas Eve rounds?” Duo breathed against his ear. “Do you know, you’re very cute when you’re panicking!” Too late,
Heero felt the brush of Duo’s teasing smile on his skin. Dammit, he was still just that little bit too slow to catch Duo’s
humour sometimes -!
Duo reached over him, the
careless touch making his nipples stand to attention like small winter walnuts,
and his long-haired partner stabbed a finger on the open page of the script. “Hey
Heero – we’re in this scene, y’know – by name.”
“What
– us? No, we’re just the extras, like usual, just
the elves in the workshop…”
“Nah.” Duo
shook his head emphatically, his braid falling forward and nuzzling in Heero’s
groin. As Heero groaned quite loudly at
the rough caress, Duo leant further over into his lap, and flicked over the
pages thoughtfully.
“And
this one! Look…”
“Want to touch, not look –“
panted Heero. His hand slid down
the back of Duo’s pants, fingers easing between the cheeks of his ass. The buttons at the front popped open with ease;
they were used to this.
“Actually,” said Duo, a
little puzzled, despite the delight of Heero’s fingers probing for his entrance,
“we’re in almost all of ‘em. That can’t be right! We never get any sort of a main role in a
film, because –“
“- we can’t be trusted not
to get distracted!” puffed Heero, squashing himself up close to Duo’s bent
torso, and wriggling as many fingers up into him as he could reach. His breathing was very shallow; his face very
flushed.
“I don’t know if I want to be a star in this movie,” said
Duo, cautiously. His partner had eased
his pants down his legs, the fabric crumpling round his thighs, and his ass
cheeks were exposed and glistening under Heero’s sweaty, grasping palms. “Who
wrote this thing -?”
“Some ghost writer – the
client herself. I don’t know,” growled
Heero. “But I know what I want to be in!” He reached under Duo’s arms and flipped him
backwards on to the bunk. The pants were
unceremoniously yanked off his ankles, and his legs spread apart. Duo winced as his toes slammed against the
wall of the trailer. “Gotta get a bigger bed –“ he
moaned.
“Put it on your letter to
Santa,” snapped Heero, fumbling with his own pants with one hand, whilst trying
to keep Duo’s thighs wide apart with the other.
“Along with the Shuichi Shindou
pink wig and the packs of giant Pocky!”
“How’d you know that?”
gasped Duo, grasping at Heero’s hips to pull him closer. “I posted that letter up the chimney, for
Santa’s eyes only!”
“We don’t have a chimney,”
panted Heero, pressing into him. They
both paused, savouring the sensation; the bunk creaked; the young men both
groaned with delight. “It’s a prop,
Duo. Made of papier mache. Trowa had it brought in for the movie – uhhh -!”
Words failed Heero, as he
sank into a tight, hot heaven; Duo had nothing but grunts. When the long-haired man tried to reach under
the bunk for the sleigh bells, Heero slapped his hand away – then they both
fell off the bunk with a loud thump that rocked the trailer. Still deeply inside him, with Duo’s legs
gripping his hips, Heero raised himself up off the floor and thrust into his
lover with renewed enthusiasm.
“O cum all ye faithful –“ warbled Duo,
throwing his head back with passionate relief as he climaxed all over their
combined bellies. Heero tried not to
laugh, but he couldn’t help it, and it tipped him over the edge. Coughing, hiccupping, giggling, he surrendered
to a very satisfying, noisy climax of his own.
“Did you hear the bells ring?”
sighed Duo, with a (temporarily) sated sigh. “Must be Christmas or
something!”
*
“OK, so here’s the plot,
guys.” Trowa stood firmly in front of
his yawning, early-morning cast and crew, assembled in the chilly warehouse
that was to be their set for the movie.
Quatre looked immaculate as always – immaculately debauched, that
was. He wore a long shirt, buttoned at
only one spot, so that plenty of his sculpted torso
was seen with every languid move he made.
He’d made some concession to the occasion of a formal script conference,
in that he’d thrown on a pair of casual, cropped pants. However, they were made of a very sheer mesh;
it proved to be more erotic than nakedness.
Trowa tried not to catch his lecherous gaze too often; he was glad he’d
worn sweats today, because the space between his thighs was rapidly filling up
with something thick and hungry. Wufei
had roared on to the set about an hour ago, waking everyone up with the noise
of his motorbike, and dragging his latest leather-clad squeeze with him. Quatre shot daggers at the boy, a tall, white-blond
twink with a manner almost as arrogant as his
own. There’d been some negotiation with
Trowa and, to Quatre’s professional fury, the boy
would be featuring in some of the scenes.
Heero and Duo had tumbled
out of their trailer and across the parking lot to the warehouse with seconds
to spare – Heero still had breakfast toast in his mouth; Duo was pushing
something into the back pocket of his barely-fastened jeans that looked
suspiciously like the latest sample of latex penis enhancer that had arrived in
the post last week for their review.
Trowa didn’t want to know where it might have been in those intervening
days, though he assumed he’d find out sooner or later. These guys were like damned rabbits, all
right – and he had serious reservations about the script in the first
place! Thank God he’d persuaded Quatre
and Wufei to join the cast; they were well established in the industry. But if Heero and Duo let him down because their
entire lives were ruled by their dicks
–!
He started again, with a sigh. “Let’s set the scene. Santa has a crisis – thinks he needs some more
positive PR this year. He’s been
neglecting his customers’ wishlists of late. He’s in trouble, and needs to re-establish
himself with his adult clientele. So
he’s on his way to deliver a special gift to this particular client. Just a short promo, guys;
some fun with the elves, an X-rated update on the fat old man with the beard,
right?”
“So who’s playing Santa?” Wufei leant over to Quatre to ask, his eyes
glancing appreciatively at his co-star’s toned physique.
“He’s just a presence,
Chang,” snapped Quatre. “Not an actual
character. Hell, man, didn’t you ever
grow up?”
The luscious white-blond
head appeared at Wufei’s shoulder and rested its chin there. The new man gazed at Quatre, amusement in his
eyes. “Oh, Wufei grew up all right!” he smirked.
“Couple times last night – this morning on the back of the bike –“ Wufei flushed with
pleasure, and his hand went back to squeeze at the blond’s
ass.
Quatre groaned, and went
back to wondering why he only had an abbreviated version of the script. “Give me strength,” he muttered. “Chang’s taste in boys continues both to
disgust and bore me rigid…”
“Lust’s young dream?” Heero
grinned at him.
“The Horny and the Lively, more like,”
Quatre quipped. “God, I hate Christmas!”
*
“Scene One!” called
Trowa. “Take twelve!” The crew yawned; the sound man changed his
gum, and off it all went again.
“Here we see Santa’s
elves,” came the seductive voiceover (actually the girl who made the lunchtime
sandwiches), “looking after his reindeer.”
Quatre stood to one side,
dressed in the boots and the thong, tapping a riding crop in his supple
palm. He sneered slightly at Wufei. “Your cue, Adam Antler.”
Wufei glared back. He was dressed in brief brown leather shorts,
with bondage straps of the same hide across his back and torso, and thigh
length black boots. That wasn’t so bad,
of course, he’d worn much worse – but it was the antlers on his head that were
particularly humiliating.
“It’s for the sake of your
art,” hissed his less-than-sympathetic
colleague. “Bend over and let me give
the reindeer a bone, honey –“
Quatre was enjoying this –
a lot. He stroked at Wufei’s ass with
provocative care; he slid his warmed fingers up under the leg of the other
man’s shorts, to tease out the best camera angles for their foreplay. Chang was one of the finer specimens in the
business nowadays – and if he could keep his mind off that bimbo he brought
with him, they could really put on a show for the viewers…
“Sing a carol!” called
Trowa. “Just a few verses –“
Quatre rolled his eyes at
Wufei, and his co-star grinned back, for once in agreement with him. “What about I Saw Three Dicks?” he muttered.
“You wish!” sniggered Quatre. He hummed a few bars of something that
sounded like a 70s glam rock hit, then flipped his cock at Wufei’s ass,
deliberating on his best move. He was
hugely aroused. No-one ever knew quite
what went through Quatre’s mind to get him so ready, so swiftly. But he’d never disappointed the cameras;
never failed to perform at his best. If
he were given the chance, that was…
“Hey!” he called,
urgently. “Where are you going?”
The cameras had swung
smoothly away from the erotic tableau of Rudolph and his greedy groom, and
seemed to be more interested in Santa’s sleigh – albeit it was really only a
couple of orange crates and some hastily pinned painted cardboard. Oh – and plenty of sleigh bells along the
plywood blades.
“Here we see some of
Santa’s special elves, mucking out the stables,” murmured the soundtrack.
“Making out, that is!” hissed Wufei, turning to watch.
Wufei’s new man was
playing some kind of coachman, for he sat on the makeshift bench at the front
of the sleigh, holding the reins that were due to be attached to Wufei’s
harness. There was a sudden disturbance
in the sleigh behind him, and he turned to stare at what appeared to be a pair
of romping elves. While the cameras had been on the other actors, Heero and Duo
had tumbled down there, out of sight, and their clothes were already open in
various places, ready for action. Heero had
hitched his cute little green tunic up round his waist,
and Duo had dropped to his green-tighted knees. Heero waved a hand at the blond driver, with
nothing more than a gasp, gesturing him to move over. He then reared up over the seat himself, leaning
back perilously, and grasped at the copper-coloured hair of his lover, bobbing
between his outstretched knees, and panting with some kind of desperation. Duo’s head bounced up and down, and loud
sucking noises could be heard over the faux-Phil Spector
backing soundtrack.
The blond let the reins
fall from his hands, his mouth still open in surprise. He stared at the enthusiastic fornicating
beside him with some kind of fascination.
The others watched with something more like resignation – it wasn’t like
they didn’t get this kind of show on a regular basis.
“Never - done it on a
sleigh –“ panted Heero. He gripped at the blond’s
shoulder, trying to anchor himself as Duo’s blowjob got more aggressive. The cardboard panel of the sleigh was bowing
outwards with the pressure, and the row of sleigh bells rattled happily all
along the sides.
Duo’s eyes lit up at the
sound of the bells. He started to moan
around Heero’ cock, and that was the trigger for his
lover’s imminent climax. They all knew
the signs. Quatre sighed, and stroked
himself soothingly; Wufei took the time to adjust the edge of his reindeer
antlers which were digging into his ear.
Santa’s coachman just continued to stare; maybe his breathing grew just
a little more shallow; maybe his own green shorts grew
just a little tighter around the lap.
Heero groaned loudly,
shuddering into Duo’s mouth, and one of his elven
ears slipped a little on his left side.
Duo coughed, and laughed, his eyes shining with excitement, and then the
two of them sagged down into the panelled sleigh again.
And still the cameras
rolled…
“Good,” said Trowa, in a
low breath. He made a small notation
against the margin of his script. “But maybe
not good enough for her yet…”
*
“Scene Two!” called Trowa.
“Here we see the elves,”
droned the voice, “on the rooftops in the soft, white snow, preparing Santa’s
journey down the chimneys of the city.”
Quatre stood, bent over
the papier mache chimney,
completely naked now except for his leather boots. A painted backdrop of tower blocks and church
steeples wobbled behind him, giving the illusion that he was standing on the
roof. His buttocks shone with massage
oil; he looked back over his shoulder at the camera, lasciviously. In all honesty, no-one was looking at the
backdrop, and he knew it. He licked his
lips, hungrily. His hand was down at his
groin, stroking himself back between his legs for the best shot.
Had
there been a shot.
“Hey!” he called. But the cameras had moved yet again, and were
no longer concentrating on him. He
looked angrily over to Wufei, but he was also no longer in view; he and his
amour were both in shorts and antlers now, tethered rather fractiously to an
artificial tree, and finding amusement only in nuzzling at each other. Wufei’s eyes were closed – he was playing
happily with his boyfriend’s pert nipple.
Quatre glared at the blond; the blond gazed back, his eyes slightly
glazed with growing excitement. Some knowing
look flickered between them. Quatre
stood up and brushed imaginary soot off his muscled thighs.
Across on the studio ‘lawn’,
there was a ‘snowball’ fight in progress.
At a sign from Trowa, the cameras turned eagerly towards it.
Duo and Heero had tidied
themselves back into their costumes after the scene in the sleigh, but had been
distracted - again. While Quatre was preparing himself
on the ‘roof’, Duo had picked up a handful of the glimmering white flakes and
shoved it down the back of Heero’s green felt collar. Heero had yelped, and grabbed out for his
revenge.
Now they were chasing after
each other, slipping around on the white floor covering; they caught each other,
suddenly; they kissed, noisily and hungrily; they fell against another of the balsa
wood trees, laughing.
Heero was panting, loudly;
the Ronettes were having difficulty being heard over
his whimpers. He was savouring the fingers
reaching down his elven pants; he groaned as they grasped
at his swelling erection.
“Now!” hissed Duo, his
tongue lapping at Heero’s bared neck.
“Here! I’ve never done it in snow before!”
Heero looked wildly round
for somewhere they could snatch some quick privacy. The camera crew were focussed on them; the
girl with the sandwich tray was staring at them; Trowa glared from somewhere
behind his clipboard. Privacy just
wasn’t an option. But then, missing a
chance for Duo to fuck him wasn’t one either. “It’s just fake snow, Duo – a
polyester blanket – artificial flakes on top –“
“All the
better,” panted Duo, starting to tug down Heero’s spandex tights. “Winter Wonderland without the wet ass!”
“I’ll show you wet ass!”
growled Heero, and dragged him bodily round the back of the ‘tree’. Duo sank down on to his butt at the base of
it, and Heero’s mouth and hands followed swiftly. Trowa clicked his fingers, and the cameras
rolled on round to catch every moment.
“I can hear church bells!”
sighed Duo, in both aural and oral ecstasy, as Heero sank down on to him, peeling back cheap
cloth, and releasing his thick, glistening cock.
“It’s only a tape –“ hissed Heero, licking reverently.
“Who cares?” Duo hissed
back. He pushed Heero back off him,
rubbing at himself with eagerness. “Looking for your hips, not lips on this
baby, Heero! Fast!” With a grin, Heero ripped off his spandex and
sat astride Duo’s lap. Holding up the
tunic again – cursing its unsuitability for the purpose – he started to lower
himself eagerly down on to Duo’s waiting shaft.
The sandwich girl gave a small, strangled murmur; and she’d seen a few
adult movies in her day.
*
Quatre was leaning against
the other tree, stark naked, his hand brushing lightly at the young blond’s chest. Wufei
stood the other side of the youth, brow furrowed. They were all bemoaning the loss of attention
from the crew. “So who is the main
feature of this movie?” Wufei complained.
“Am I done up in this ridiculous outfit for nothing but Yuletide atmosphere?” He started to wriggle out of the aggravating
shorts. The blond turned to console him
– Quatre’s hand brushed at the pert young ass, and didn’t miss the clench of
eager buttocks that answered his touch.
He looked over at the action happening on the other side of the set, and
wrinkled his nose in distaste at the two young men currently steaming up the
camera lens.
“I don’t know what the hell’s
going on, I must admit. You know they’re wearing those matching designer briefs?”
he sneered. “Mind you, I suppose we
should be grateful they’re wearing anything at all.”
The blond had turned back
to him, ice-blue eyes fixed on his mouth.
And moving southwards. “I’ve seen all your films, Quatre Winner,” he
breathed, excitedly. “When Wufei said
you’d be here as well, I was thrilled.
Never thought I’d get to see you close up – like this – it’s an honour,
you know -“
“I know,” said Quatre,
calmly. “So – while those elves are occupying
this particular grotto with their unique brand of Wan-king Wenceslas, we’d better think of some other way to keep
ourselves warm, eh?”
Wufei turned to grin at
him. “At last you talk some sense,
Winner. The Twelve Plays of Christmas, eh?”
Quatre leered at the pair
of them, his hand absently stroking at his groin. “The five
golden rings are particularly tempting…” he sighed. The blond looked from one naked man to
another, and his eyes glittered with hopeful anticipation. The three men moved in together more closely,
and possessive hands started to wander.
Oblivious to the rest of
his cast, Trowa was watching Heero and Duo on the camera viewfinder. He wasn’t distracted by their sobs and groans
from the base of the ‘tree’, nor the glares from one of his props men, hiding
behind the structure and holding it firm against the hammering from Heero and
Duo’s bodies. “Much better,” said Trowa.
“Yes… much better, indeed. She’ll
be pleased with that.”
*
“Scene
Three!” Trowa had that edge to
his voice that came with the end to a long day.
“Here we see his elves,
delivering presents…” came the saccharin-sweet voice
in the background.
“Gonna throttle that girl,”
snapped Quatre. “With her own damned
tinsel…”
He sat on a makeshift
platform at the top of a rather precariously constructed plastic Christmas
tree, as if he were the angel placed at its tip. He shifted a set of golden wings attached to
the back of his bondage harness; he stretched a long, muscled leg out in front
of him, wriggling toes to prevent cramp.
At the base of the tree, the blond young man sat amongst some huge
boxes, wrapped as presents. He was dressed
in a fur loincloth and something approximating a Rudolph the Reindeer hood, complete with detachable false red nose – and he gazed
greedily at Quatre’s limb, just out of his reach.
Around the other side of
the tree Heero and Duo were tied against the prickled branches with yards of
red satin ribbon. And
nothing else. A couple of
strategically placed bows hid their privates – but from the look in their eyes,
that wasn’t going to last for long.
“Cameras,” murmured Trowa,
and the equipment began to slide across the studio floor.
One of the presents on the
floor burst open and a nearly-nude Wufei sprang up. “Happy Christmas!” he carolled. His erection bounced happily in a too-small
thong, decorated with a large sprig of velvet holly.
The blond stared, and his
eyes grew wider. At the top of the tree,
Quatre sighed. “What’s the point?” he
groaned. “I’m going to get myself some
kind of a better agent after this debacle…”
Around the other side of
the tree, Duo ran his eyes hungrily up and down Heero’s naked body. He wriggled his own limbs against the plastic
tree branches, and listened to the tinkling of various ornaments.
Heero sighed. “You’ve got some kind of fetish for bells,
haven’t you?”
“Some kinda fetish for you!” hissed Duo. “Look, we could just slip out of these
things, no-one would notice, they’re all distracted by Wufei’s chestnuts roasting by an open fire -“
Heero was already peeling
the ribbon from his left arm, as carefully as he could. A plastic icicle fell from the tree behind
him, and a gold orb swung dangerously close to a winking tree light – his urgent
movements made the platform rattle up above.
Neither of them had seen the direction of the cameras yet – and God
forbid they’d read the script carefully enough to know they were in this scene. But Trowa didn’t seem inclined to remind them
– he seemed content to let nature take its course.
“I’ve never done it up a
tree,” mused Heero.
His long legs kicked out at a particularly awkward knot. He licked his lips in anticipation.
“Be my guest!” came a sardonic sneer from the platform above their
heads. “You think I’m sitting here much
longer, waiting to see if Santa thinks I’m naughty or nice, you’re much
mistaken!” The elegant Quatre swung his
legs down from his perch, and shrugged off the ill-fitting wings.
Heero and Duo needed no
second bidding. They clambered away, up
to the platform, a stream of red ribbon trailing behind them as they shed their
only ‘clothing’.
Quatre watched the
indecent haste with which the cameras followed their trail, and pursed his
infamous lips.
There was some heavy
breathing and some slapping sounds, and finally Duo’s face peeked out from
between two branches. He was on his
hands and knees, it seemed, and Heero’s head could be seen above him, as if he
lay flat on Duo’s back. They both had a
look of ecstatic concentration. Heero
scrunched up his face in a very cute expression – Duo bit at his lower
lip. Then their bodies shuddered in
tandem, as if they locked together, and a smile appeared on both their faces.
“Very good,” groaned
Duo. “Just that little harder, Heero –
oh hell, yes – !”
“And no vertigo at all!”
panted Heero, his body moving back and forth over Duo’s. He looked triumphant. And highly aroused, of
course. But that was usual, where
Duo was concerned.
The heads vanished for a moment
behind an excess of tinsel, and the cameras bustled round to get another
angle. “What does the script say now,
Heero?” came a cry. The voice was breathless – it jerked up and down, as if the
owner was otherwise occupied, and had only just felt guilty enough to remember
he was meant to be at work, not play. Which, of course, described Duo perfectly.
“Can’t
read it now – “grunted Heero. “Too – busy
– now-!“
Duo snickered. Duo whimpered. The tree rattled furiously and several gold
hoops and wooden drummer boys leapt off their perches, scattering for
cover. The tree lights winked once more,
then abandoned all hope, and shut off.
Duo yelled and cursed –
even Quatre raised an eyebrow. “Oh shit,
yes, Heero!! Hard,
those Horny Angels Sing!” There was
a loud laugh from Heero, rather hoarse, and a final shudder of every decoration
below them. A few of the coffee cups
round the set rattled, too.
Bells certainly rang!
A cameraman wiped sweat
from his brow. Another one remembered he
had gum in his open mouth and started up his chewing again.
The noises from the top of
the tree were calming now. Panting had
replaced shrieking. With a satisfied
leer, Trowa marked off the final sentence on his multi-coloured copy of the
script.
*
The two young men tumbled
down from the platform, falling on to their knees, rather bruised. And with some splinters in
awkward places.
“Cut!” called Trowa.
A round of applause
rippled round the crew. Trowa was
beaming from ear to ear. He held a cell
phone to his ear, and he was nodding happily.
“She loves it! She’s seen the
rushes, and she’s thrilled so far! This
last scene will be the icing on the Christmas cake!”
“Huh?” Duo pushed his
unruly hair back behind his ear. His
cheeks were rather flushed – all four of them.
“I don’t understand,”
growled Heero. He felt rather exposed,
with everyone staring and grinning. He’d
never really been comfortable with a
major role in these movies – he’d always just been happy to have a job where he
could earn enough to get by, live with a bunch of friends, and get to enjoy Duo
at all hours of the day and night without anyone batting an eye. Well, where it was more or less obligatory,
really! Even though their fun was always
beyond the Director’s Cut. “So what was the
special gift for the client?”
“You two!” smirked
Trowa. “Making out –
lots of noise – red ribbons. The whole Christmas thing!”
“Us?” Duo still looked a little dazed. He rubbed aimlessly at his nipples, making
them spring to attention again.
Heero frowned. He stared at Duo’s chest, fascinated by the
little brown nubs. His cock twitched
tiredly, yet happily, in between his legs.
“If that’s the case,” he said carefully.
“I think there were parts of that performance that need further
work. I think –“
“Another take?”
interrupted Duo, his eyes shining. He
started to clamber back towards his lover, buttocks wobbling joyfully.
*
Wufei stood, a little
forlornly, his reindeer antlers under his arm like some headless ghost of
Christmas past. His sprig of holly
looked like it had seen better days.
Quatre sidled up to him. “We’ve still got twelve rimmers rimming to do,” he
murmured, sliding a hand under Wufei’s right buttock.
“You know –“ said the blond, hesitantly. They both swung round to stare down at him,
sitting on the floor at their feet. He
flushed. “Those aren’t the real words,
you know –“ he finished, lamely.
Quatre’s gaze was
icy. Wufei snickered. They looked back up at each other and rolled
their eyes simultaneously. “Look, Quatre
love,” said Wufei, companionably. “Let
me pass you the number of my agent. Or
what about setting up our own company?
Let’s do lunch and talk this whole thing over.”
The blond pouted a little,
and they turned their attention back to him.
They stood either side of him, and Quatre gently teased at the
ridiculous, detachable red nose. He
turned to smile at Wufei, who winked back.
Then he leant back down to lift up the blond’s
head to the level of his hips. “So…
Rudolph…” he mused. “What script do we
have for you?”
“Then all the reindeer loved him,” Wufei began, with a smirk on his
face.
“And they shouted out with glee…” quoted Quatre, grinning.
“Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer –“ Wufei continued,
wriggling a finger into the blond’s opening mouth.
Quatre
laughed, full of the joys of Christmas. “You’ll “go down” in history!” And he tugged the blond’s
head comfortably down into the warm nest of his groin.
End