Story:               MEME

Author:              FancyFigures (fancyfigures@hotmail.com)

Disclaimer:        I don’t own ‘em, wish I did, just enjoy writing about ‘em for free etc

Pairings:           1x2x3x4x5 (gradually …)

Category:          PWP

Warnings:         Yaoi, lemon (duh)

Spoilers:           None

Notes:               Some secrets are only confessed to the anonymity of the virtual world.  But that doesn’t mean they mightn’t come true …

Feedback:         If you liked it, PLEASE let me know!

 

 

PART  3

 

 

 

It was dark and stifling in the movie theatre and Quatre wondered why the hell he’d agreed to come along.  It just wasn’t his kind of movie.  Screeching martial artists and a screen full of mecha where the engineering had so obviously been poorly researched - what was there to admire? He shifted awkwardly in the too-small seat.  He didn’t like popcorn; the air conditioning wasn’t as good as in the apartment block …

 

“Stop wriggling,” came the hiss beside him.  “You’re disturbing us all.”

 

Quatre glared at the brown-haired man on his right side, trying to see the rest of Trowa’s features in the flickering reflection from the screen.  “No problem.  I’ll leave,” he hissed back.  “Let me out of the row.”  He started to stand up from his seat.

 

“No,” said Trowa, his voice low but firm.  Quatre blinked a couple of times at the tone.  “Sit down again.”  To Quatre’s further surprise, Trowa leaned an arm across his chest and pressed him back into the seat. 

 

Quatre looked around, but no-one else in the place seemed to mind them: all of the seats around their group were empty, with the other patrons clustered up nearer to the screen.  He sighed.  When he glanced back, Trowa was gazing at him, his expression far clearer now.  And yet not.  Something familiar sparked along his nerves … something about the way that Trowa held him to his seat … something about the heat and the breath so close to his ear…

 

“I suppose … this is somewhere to go, right?”  Quatre tried for some careless bravado.  “Instead of peering at the same four walls every night.  We’ve all been getting way too restless.  This is something to do.”

 

Trowa leaned further in towards him.  His breath rustled the blond hair curling into Quatre’s neck: his words were a low whisper.  “I can find you something to do.”

 

Quatre swallowed carefully.  The muscles of the other man’s arm tensed against his chest.  He was startled by the fact that his nipples were erect and almost painfully so.  The temptation to caress them was very strong – he only just caught himself from sliding his own hand under his tee shirt and reaching a wet fingertip for them.  It had obviously been way too long with nothing but journal sites to console him late at night.  “I’d just rather be back at the apartment tonight –“

 

“Surfing porn fiction sites with your virtual friends?”  Trowa’s voice sounded thoughtful, rather than scornful.

 

Quatre bristled, nonetheless.  “So what?  We all do it.  Play online, one thing or another.  There’s little else to keep us out of trouble, is there?”

 

“That’s what you reckon,” murmured Trowa.  His hand moved down and settled comfortably on Quatre’s outermost leg.  Quatre looked down at it.  Trowa squeezed the flesh gently – he began to rub his thumb almost aimlessly along the inner thigh.  Just as an accidental side effect, his elbow also began to nudge at Quatre’s groin.  At least, Quatre assumed it was accidental.

 

“What did you say?”  Quatre cursed the fact he sounded so stupid, but he was distracted by the warm rhythm of Trowa’s caress, and anyway, it was damned hard to carry on a decent conversation in a hushed – and public – place.  It was hot in the movie house; he felt suddenly confined.  There were a lot of potential watchers around, and he felt the first prickling sensations of nervousness.

 

“You reckon the online entertainment keeps you out of trouble.  Is that where you want to be, Quatre?”

 

Quatre opened his mouth to snap an answer, then felt the gentle throb in his lap.  There was no imagining now that the elbow caress was accidental.  He glanced round swiftly and hissed out of the corner of his mouth, “Watch what you’re doing, Trowa … the others are here too …”

 

“Hey, don’t let us stop you,” came Duo’s low chuckle. 

 

Quatre‘s head snapped to his left side, staring at his other friends along the row.  Duo grinned back at him, mischief glinting in his eyes in the darkness.  He sat between Quatre and Heero and had both hands comfortably balanced, one on the back of Quatre’s seat and the other in Heero’s lap.  He continued to smile at Quatre, but at the same time he slipped the button of Heero’s jeans and nudged his fingers inside the waistband.  Heero’s head went back, his eyes closing.  He put a hand to his mouth and slipped in a couple of fingers, sucking gently on them.  Quatre thought he could hear him panting in the quiet auditorium.

 

Then Quatre felt a hand on his neck and his head was twisted back to Trowa.  He could smell the other man’s warm breath, feel his hair brushing against his cheek.  When Trowa’s mouth pressed on to his, his lips opened to take in the questing tongue.  Trowa tasted very delicious, and very demanding.  Quatre was worried about anyone turning round to see them, but he couldn’t see anything but the silhouette of heads above the rows in front, and luckily the movie plot seemed to be at a junction that needed concentration.  His concentration was occupied by the slick tongue flickering in and out of his mouth, licking at his lips, mouthing hot shapes against his neck. His hands opened wide, then fisted up again, helplessly.  He wanted to take hold of Trowa – he wanted to grab him and press his body against him, but really …

 

“Trowa, God, not here …”

 

“Yes, here,” hissed Trowa.  His words were muffled against Quatre’s collar.  His hands stroked at Quatre’s waist, tugging his shirt up at the side towards his armpit, half-baring his torso.

 

“Look …” Quatre didn’t know whether to laugh or protest or … surrender.  His own breath was very shallow. “This is great, yeah, I mean, it’d be fun, but not now –“

 

“Yes, now.” 

 

He felt Trowa’s fingers loosening his jeans which on the one hand was excellent, because his cock was swelling fast and aching against the restriction, but on the other hand, he had a fear of someone passing the end of the row - or God forbid, taking a seat along from them! – and seeing him improperly dressed.  He was sure he could explain this to Trowa, who had always been very reasonable.  “When the movie’s over, we can go – “

 

Now,” Trowa repeated, twisting awkwardly in his seat, his mouth sliding down to Quatre’s chest.  He nibbled at Quatre’s right nipple, thick and erect, and the blond man groaned.

 

“Keep the noise down over there,” whispered Duo, though then he spoiled the effect by moaning himself.  Quatre glanced to the left to see him working Heero’s cock with enthusiasm, his left hand pumping up and down under the opened flaps of the dark-haired man’s jeans.  Heero was arched back in his seat, a hand flung out sideways and anchored fiercely in Duo’s hair.  There were strange, grunting noises coming from his throat, Quatre could hear them most clearly, despite the raucous movie soundtrack. 

 

He’d rarely seen Heero look so hot - well, both of them, really.  He couldn’t tear his eyes away.  Then, as his eyes glazed over, Duo’s right hand dropped from the back of the seat and landed on his exposed chest.   Without disturbing his jerking off of Heero, Duo pinched – deliberately - at Quatre’s left nipple.  Quatre moaned aloud, horrified to hear the high-pitched gasp come from his own mouth.

 

Then Trowa slipped off his seat and into the well at Quatre’s feet.  Startled, Quatre looked down on him, at green eyes that shone almost ferally in the shadows below the seats.  “What the hell?” he hissed.  “Get back up here!”

 

Trowa shook his head and smiled.  His hand nudged down the zip of Quatre’s pants and he reached inside to palm at the tented boxers.   Quatre bit his lip and his legs tensed.  Beside him, Duo tightened his twist on his nipple, and chuckled softly.

 

“You want it,” murmured Trowa, still staring up at Quatre.  He opened the fly of the blond’s jeans, wriggling them a little way down his thighs, still caressing the swelling shaft.  “Don’t you, Quatre?  Here and now … you want it.”

 

Quatre sighed: his mouth opened to protest but a deep, primal sigh came out instead.  Yesss…”

 

Trowa smiled.  He looked up briefly, catching Heero’s eye where he sat along the row.  All expressions were laced with lust.  Heero had now twisted sideways in his own seat so that he faced Duo and one of his legs was straddling Duo’s lap. Duo’s upper body had leaned over so that he could caress Quatre’s chest, but now his head was stretched back against his seat, baring his throat.  Heero bent down and nipped at it, releasing a soft growl against the taut Adam’s apple.  At the same time, he nestled himself further into Duo’s lap, and started rubbing steadily against the other man’s groin.  His jeans were still open, slipping down on one hip and showing a patch of nude skin that caught the glint from the screen at the front of the auditorium.  The movement of his buttocks against Duo’s thighs showed that they were both very hard and were both grinding with enthusiasm against each other.

 

Trowa bit back a groan at the erotic sight, then he bent his head forward between Quatre’s legs and nipped at the patch of skin between groin and fabric.

 

Nooo…” moaned Quatre, his whole body shuddering.  “I’ve got to be quiet, here –“

 

Trowa shook his head again.  “You won’t be.  You mustn’t be.”  His tongue lapped at Quatre’s arousal, soaking the thin fabric of his boxers until it clung to the shape rearing out from his lap.  Then Trowa slid his tongue into the button front and started to lick at the bare flesh. 

 

Quatre bit right through his lip as he swallowed a shriek of pleasure.  Shit, Tro … oh my God …”

 

Duo’s voice sounded too close for comfort, and sure enough, a hot tongue lapped greedily at his ear.  “So hot, Quat … look at him, look at him crouched there, sucking you off …”

 

Quatre turned to the couple beside him, ready to protest that this was neither the time nor the place – then Trowa’s hand pulled his cock roughly from his boxers and his mouth sank hungrily over it.  Quatre finally lost the power of coherent speech.  Fingers tangled in his hair, pulling his head round, and his helpless gargles were suddenly buried inside Duo’s mouth, the kiss consuming him, the other man’s tongue thrusting into his mouth in time with their body movements.  Trowa’s mouth pumped swiftly but surely up and down his dick, and Heero ground up and down on Duo’s lap beside him, and Quatre felt the whole row of seats rocking beneath them all.

 

Heero shuddered first, his hips jerking awkwardly against Duo, his cum pumping hotly and messily into his jeans.  Duo tore his mouth off Quatre’s and began to moan as his own climax wracked him.  Heero leant back a little, panting softly, watching as Duo’s eyes closed and his face grimaced with ecstatic shock, watching him come. 

 

He glanced sideways and saw Quatre watching Duo, too.  The blond man had his legs stretched wide, his hand on the top of Trowa’s head as Trowa bobbed up and down his cock.  His eyes could barely focus, and Heero saw moisture tearing at the corners of his eyes.  Heero smiled.  He leant over, took Quatre’s chin in his hand and kissed him, hard.  He swallowed the soft, agonised moans from the other man, felt the muscles of his body shuddering and tensing beneath him.  Then he released him and twisted around to watch Trowa at work.

 

Quatre was close – he was bucking up on his seat, his hands gripping at Trowa’s shoulder, his hips thrusting up into the hot, hasty mouth.

 

“Scream for him,” hissed Heero into Quatre’s ear.  Duo’s eyes shone brightly behind him.  Trowa groaned around his mouthful of cock, his body still bent between Quatre’s legs.  Heero whispered again. “That’s what you want.”

 

Nooo…” moaned Quatre.  He knew he was loud when he had sex, he knew he couldn’t always keep his voice under control.  Not like this, anyway.  He looked around wildly.  He could still only see the backs of people’s heads, but what if someone heard -?  Someone saw -?  He was sweating, his body shivering, his thighs tensed so tightly he was half out of his seat already.  It was dark, but the moving images on the screen lit up the row here and there, time and again, and who knew when the music might fade …

 

“Quatre…” Trowa gave a muffled sigh, and sucked so tightly that Quatre felt himself sink towards the back of his throat.

 

Quatre‘s short, soft sobbing sounds were buried in a rising swell of music from the screen.  There was the flash of a swordfight on screen, and a sudden screech from the protagonists that made the watchers sit up in their seats.

 

Quatre screamed.  He lurched forward, only held back at the last minute by Heero’s hand on his arm, and he climaxed into Trowa’s eager mouth, pumping out, his thighs gripping the head in front of him, his hands grasping for purchase.  Trowaaa …”

 

He slumped back in his seat, waiting for retribution but receiving none from the other moviegoers who thought they had better things to watch, and who imagined the sounds from behind them were the reflections of digital sound.  He was panting – his heart raced – his limbs shook.  There was soft laughter from beside him, and then Trowa staring back up at him, moisture glinting at the corner of his mouth and a hand down his own pants, squeezing gratefully.

 

“I …” hissed Quatre.  His voice failed, and he started again.  ““That was better than I ever…” He paused, his eyes raking Trowa’s face, his hands groping to anchor himself against the other two men.  “But how did you know?  How the hell did you know …?”

 

Trowa smiled, white teeth gleaming in the dim light.  A knee joint cracked quietly as he levered himself back up to his seat. 

 

On screen, the end credits started to roll.

 

 

TBC …