PART EIGHT

Heero woke suddenly; he sat up, bolt upright. What was the thumping of his heart? Fear? Thrill?

He wasn’t in room 6 – he had found another, unoccupied room. There may have been a number 4 on the door, he didn’t really remember. Not that he thought there was any issue with going in, and using it – he’d never seen another occupant at the motel since they arrived. And somehow he knew that all the rooms would look the same – they would all be made up the same, with thick, deep pillows, and soft, clinging sheets, and a bathroom ridiculously well-stocked with personal toiletries. He had just chosen the first that he came to, and closed the door quietly behind him.

He had left Quatre in the yard, while the morning sun was still high and hot, and at that time, he had no thoughts except to hide. To be away from the sultry, cloying appeal of the blond boy; to be away from the lover that he knew was slipping away from him. To think more carefully – and painfully - on what was going on here.

He had run back towards the courtyard, seeking the peace that he sometimes found there. He wandered through, forcing his beating heart to calm down. Here had been a sanctuary of sorts, discovered by him in the last few days – a pale-stoned and empty place, with a thin carpet of red dust. Dry air; nothing moving but the trees, their foliage high and waxed. No, there was nothing specific that endeared him to the place… but there was a charge here, that he found nowhere else. A strange comfort – and at the same time, a disturbing one.

He’d known he wouldn’t find anyone else around. And yet where could they hide, here? Where was Trowa – was he with Wufei, the man who could seduce him with rich food, and even richer temptations of the flesh? Or with Maxwell – this mysterious man who ran the whole show?

He sat, but was restless on the stone bench. His mind nagged at him – his body sulked, with unsatisfied, unspecified lust. So he had risen from his seat, and made his way back to the guest rooms.

The voice had returned to him, then; I’m only for you, Heero. I’m saving myself for you, Heero. Come to me…

He’d leant back against the door of the room he’d chosen, as if it might protect him.

He’d thought that sleep was the answer. Too much sun had distorted his thoughts – he would rest, and then things would be calmer.

But that wasn’t to be, was it?

*

It was night, now. The fan here was faster than the one in his other room – but his body was still drenched in sweat.

He groaned, lifting his feet off the bed. He was still in his shorts, damp against his legs. He’d slept on his vest, unintentionally – it looked like a rag. He knew he needed a shower, or at the least a wash – and he’d have to go and get a clean shirt. The nights were cooler, and he felt a slightly ridiculous need for some more clothing. He didn’t know if Trowa would be in their room. Didn’t know if he wanted him to be. He’d face that eventuality when he had to.

The voice was whispering for him. Calling him. He’d ignored it so well, so far.

But now he knew he’d get up, and go to find it.

And perhaps Trowa would be there.

*

There were noises in the courtyard. The night was still hot, and his clean shirt was already sticking slightly to his back. There was moonlight, and a slight breeze, and – he thought his ears were deceiving him! – the sound of water in the sunken pool. He stopped his steps a little short of the end of the walkway, and listened. There were gasps, and soft laughs. A few, fast footsteps, like dancing. Grunts, shaken out of a body – a cry, and then a drawn-out moan that was unmistakably one of approaching climax. Heero flushed at the sound – he knew it too well.

It was Trowa.

He stepped around the shadow of the last room, and gazed at the scene in front of him.

The courtyard was bathed in shadows that blended from a midnight blue black, to cool, steel grey. But the shadows moved; individually and together. There was the flash of white teeth in a smile – the shine from a sweat-soaked body. There were towels beside the pool, and the evidence that people had bathed there – that there was inviting water in it once again. There were baskets with some fruit and bread in them, and pastries, and a few half-empty bottles of dark, red wines. Cups stood on the stones, one of them on its side, rolling occasionally in any breeze.

There were two men, standing beside the pool, melded together in the night-time light, so that they could barely be distinguished individually. Two heads leaned close together – an arm appeared out of the centre, then snaked back round the combined torsos. Ran down someone’s side, then back up again. Legs pressed against each other, holding each other upright. It was a very intimate, and sexy scene.

As Heero stared, one of them broke away, and put a hand down to the pool wall. His hair swung about his shoulders in a swathe, and Heero saw from the man’s height and bearing that it was Wufei. He was talking to another man, in the pool – there was the soft sound of his laugh. With his head still facing the pool, he reached for a wine bottle, and poured out a cup.

Heero’s eyes were growing accustomed to the dim light, but even without that, he would have known the man in the pool as Trowa; relaxing, with his arms stretched out on the low walls. Trowa, who raised his head to Wufei, and smiled in return. Wufei put the cup to his lips, for him to drink. There was another soft laugh, when some of the wine spilt down Trowa’s chin. Wufei leaned further down, and his tongue slipped out to lave at the other man’s pale throat. Heero felt a stab of some unidentified emotion in his gut.

They were all naked, and the various skin tones blended like a painted canvas against the muted background of the courtyard, and the glittering surface of the water. But the bodies were much more alive than a canvas – they were very active indeed, and their warmth and amusement could be seen as clearly as if invisible brushstrokes mocked at him.

Heero gazed at Wufei’s careful, covetous touching of Trowa’s neck. It made his heart ache. And when he tore his eyes away, and turned back to look for the other man, he had gone.

*

There was a splash, and a head broke from the pool’s surface, beside Trowa. Heero saw short hair, plastered to a young, smooth skull. Water flowing down over the slim, narrow shoulders. A boy who pulled himself smoothly and easily out of the pool, stretching his arms, and shaking off the excess water. Quatre, of course. He stood beside the crouching figure of Wufei, and put a hand to his shoulder, to steady himself. His laugh was a loud, musical sound in the sultry air. He, also, was naked – Heero could see the profile of his half erect cock, as he unfolded his limbs.

Quatre had been in the pool with Trowa; under the water; naked. Heero examined the confusing, disturbing feelings that brought. Without a doubt, he knew that Quatre had been pleasing Trowa. With his hands; his mouth; whatever else he could use.

He’d heard Trowa’s cry of completion, hadn’t he? He knew.

He stood, staring at the trail of wet that Quatre had left in his wake. He marvelled that the pool was now full of water. When the hell did that happen? How the hell did that happen? Why, in God’s name, was he worrying about such stuff?

Trowa stood up in the water, balancing on the step. He reached up for Wufei, and the taller man took his arm, holding him upright. He passed the cup of wine to Quatre, who slid back into the pool, going round to Trowa’s other side. He laughed again, as one foot slipped a little, and his hand encircled Trowa’s waist, anchoring himself. Trowa never turned to him, but gazed up at Wufei – the larger man leant over again, and they kissed. Very deeply; tongues fierce and hungry. Heero heard Quatre’s sigh on the still air.

The blond boy was trailing his fingers in the wine, lifting them up, to let most of the dark-shadowed drops trickle back into the cup. He reached his wet hand out to Trowa’s chest, and aimlessly painted a meandering pattern across the pale skin. It was a jagged pseudo-scar, in the dim light of night. Then he leant forward, and started to lick at the liquid; his tongue flickered against the dark nub of Trowa’s nipple. Heero had done that himself, many times. Trowa liked it, he knew.

Heero wondered why he wasn’t as distressed as he probably should be. His lover – the man he thought he was having a relationship with – was in an intimate, sexual menage a trois, yet all he could think of was how gorgeous they all looked together.

To his mild astonishment, he felt the stirrings of arousal between his own legs.

And then the fourth man joined him.

*

Heero was aware of him, even before he became visible. He was almost silent, but his breath was on Heero’s bare shoulder as he passed – his feet padded gently on the flagstones behind him. And then he was beside Heero, watching the tableau in front of them. And yet Heero knew he was really watching him.

The voice was still only in his head. “Welcome, Heero Yuy.”

“You are Duo Maxwell,” he said, softly. The man nodded. The smell of citrus was very sharp around him; it tantalised Heero’s senses. “You’ve been speaking to my mind. You’ve been saying things that are quite outrageous…”

Duo smiled, and it was like the ripple of the wind chimes in Heero’s head. “You can ignore me, Heero. Sometimes you do, don’t you?”

“But – sometimes I can’t,” sighed Heero.

Duo was taking form beside him, like he’d drifted in on a smoky mist. Or maybe it was just the heat, and the thumping of his heart, distorting his vision. The man was half nude, and he could see the shine of the moon on the flesh of his upper body. He wore a towel around his waist; this parted easily as he moved, and Heero caught the flash of smooth thigh. He was a little taller – a little slimmer than Heero. His skin glowed luminescent in the moonlight – his hair reflected auburn lights, and the braid teased mischievously at his hips. There were fingertips close to Heero’s thigh, for Heero could feel the living heat from them. Duo had obviously been the man in Wufei’s embrace, when Heero first arrived, and Heero sighed, unconsciously. He understood why anyone would want to embrace Duo Maxwell. He wanted to reach out and take his hand – to touch that skin.

There was a strange lassitude all over him; he had never been so tired – nor so relaxed. He struggled to decide whether he liked the feeling, or hated it. He had wanted to see this man, so very badly – and he wasn’t convinced that his reasons were entirely explicable.

“Ignore me…” murmured Duo. “No, that’s true…sometimes you can’t.” It was the first time that Heero had heard his voice aloud. It didn’t disappoint. It was low, and rich, and musical. And very seductive. It was as familiar to Heero as his own – as soft as velvet; as comforting as a fresh, clean bed at night; as thrilling as the day he met Trowa and was first allowed to touch his body. “You’re not always so strong. Sometimes, you are more open to me. And I do love to talk to you – to reach you, Heero.”

“When am I more open to you?” whispered Heero.

Duo laughed, softly. “When you love Trowa Barton, of course. And when you hate him, as well…”

Heero shivered. How dare this stranger talk about him and Trowa like that? His tone became aggressive. “Are you some kind of a ghost? I know that I’m only seeing you now because you want me to. But you’re always there! First it was the smells; the aromas that only I could smell. And then the voice. It was you, wasn’t it? It is you.”

“Yes,” replied Duo. “It’s always been me.” Then he was in front of Heero, obscuring his view of the writhing bodies in the courtyard. Heero looked into wide, dark blue eyes – saw the thick, lush lips smiling. “I’m not a ghost, Heero! This is no ghost house. Everyone is very much alive.” He paused, and the look that he gave Heero was like a warm hand, stroking down his back. “Very much alive. We’ve been waiting for you to join us.”

Heero stepped back. But Duo moved with him – always that tantalising hand’s width away. It didn’t seem obvious – and never did he touch him. But he was with him, all the same.

“So you’re the voice!” he said, harshly. He felt, rather than saw the other young men pause in their caresses in the pool – turn their heads towards him and Duo. “I guess I was interested to see what you looked like, in the flesh…”

Why did he wish he’d never used that particular phrase?

Duo quirked an eyebrow. His gaze was amused. “So now you see me!” Heero saw the skin crinkling at the corners of his eyes. “And so what do you propose to do with me?”

Heero scowled. He turned his head to the side, almost as if he tried to avoid Duo’s gaze. Though the other man did nothing to force himself on him.

You’re here, Duo Maxwell! snapped Heero, to himself. It’s not like you need to do anything else!

Duo’s grin spread across his face. There was suddenly the light of something feral in his eyes. He gestured towards the nearest bench – and started to move forwards, herding Heero back towards it. “Come and sit with me, Heero. Talk to me. I know that you want to learn about me. As I want to learn about you.”

Heero sat down, rather heavily. Quatre had left the others at the pool, and joined them at the side of the courtyard. He didn’t sit down, but then Duo slid into the space on the other side of the bench. Heero found himself flanked by two gorgeous, near-naked men. He knew his face was heavily flushed – he knew his body raged, mocking him with its insubordination.

“Will you take wine, Heero?” asked Quatre, his voice a study in pretended innocence. “Or will you take me?” He laughed at Heero’s shocked face. “Wine it is, for the moment, then –“

“No!” gasped Heero. “I – I don’t drink much. Water?”

Quatre raised his eyebrows – shot a quick, disappointed look at Duo. “Of course, Heero.” Heero hadn’t seen any water jugs by the pool, but Quatre didn’t go back to the motel – he just leant down beside the bench, and reached for something there. His naked ass bounced, and pressed lightly against Heero’s thighs – his hand brushed against his hip. The skin was cool, even in the hot evening, and still damp with droplets from his dip in the pool. Heero shivered, and knew that Duo would have seen it. When Quatre straightened up, he held a cup and a glass jug of cold water. The sides of the jug were clouded with condensation – Heero could see the steam from the surface; hear the blessed tinkle of ice cubes. His mouth watered. Quatre handed him the filled cup, and he drained half in one gulp. He could feel Duo’s eyes on him; he thought he was watching his throat.

Quatre was also watching closely, but then he stepped to stand in front of them both. He stretched a hand in front of him, parting the two men, and he leant against the wall. His head dipped down; his blond hair whispered against Heero’s ear – but it was Duo whom he gazed at. Duo lifted his head, to look directly into his shaded eyes.

Quatre opened his mouth slightly, and a smile teased at the edges of it. They could both see the glint in his mouth of an ice cube – the tip of his tongue rolled it gently behind his teeth. He put his weight forward on to his braced arm, and he dropped his lips down on to Duo’s. Heero leaned away from them, instinctively, but he stared, fascinated, at their wet, hungry mouths; the short little breaths that came from Quatre’s greedy kisses; the flickering of their probing tongues.

“Kiss me some more, Maxwell,” gasped Quatre. He pressed the melting cube to the front of his mouth; it wiped a cool trail across Duo’s swelling lips. “Take it into your mouth – lick it out – lick me out, Duo…” His panting became harsher, and his hand rested on Duo’s shoulder.

Suddenly Heero’s hand darted out and grabbed at Quatre’s arm. Quatre paused, surprised – he drew his head away from Duo.

“Heero -?”

“Stop it, Quatre!” he said. His voice rasped – he barely recognised it as his own. His own breathing was too shallow, surely, to support the throbbing in his chest? “I – want to do that myself –“

Quatre pursed his rich little lips, and the ice cube was sucked back in. With a slow smile, he straightened up, his arm withdrawing lazily from the wall behind them. He looked at Duo to get his reaction.

Duo was staring at Heero; entranced. Greedy. Eyes shining. Like a hawk watching its prey. Quatre wondered if he’d been looking at Heero that way, all the time, even when he was kissing him. He swallowed the remainder of the cube, and the cool water pulsed in his throat – but no-one was watching.

“Go to the others, Quatre,” came Duo’s low, slow command.

Quatre shrugged. He turned, and walked back to the others – his hips were swinging; though he knew the two men on the bench still weren’t watching him. He moved towards the pool, intending to drop back in, but at the last moment, Wufei caught at his arm and stopped him.

“Come here, bright one,” he growled. His eyes glittered with something both affectionate and keen.

Quatre let the pleasure slide back into his face. “You asking?” he hissed. His animal-bright eyes flickered between Wufei and Trowa, by his side.

“We’re telling –“ came Trowa’s reply; his smile was all for the beautiful boy. Wufei turned Quatre in his arms, and bent to kiss him. Hard. The possessive hands were harsh on his waist, and then Trowa’s hands joined in, massaging the muscles down his back. The boy was pressed gently between them. When Trowa tugged his hips back, he arched, like a self-satisfied cat – he clung to Wufei, and he spread his legs slightly, in anticipation. Trowa smiled at Wufei, over the boy bent beneath him. He teased, almost carelessly, at his cock, stroking an arousal that was responding enthusiastically. Then he parted the soft globes of flesh that offered themselves to him, and, sighing, he pressed his cock against the silky entrance.

Quatre moaned. Wufei stroked his hair, tugging playfully at a lock of it, as he held him upright in his arms. Trowa began a slow - and tantalising - penetration.

Over at the bench, Heero was staring at the scene as it unfolded. His breath hurt in his chest; he was vibrantly aware of the hot body beside him – the steady breathing that in no way matched his own.

He moaned, aloud. It was as if the sound escaped him, against his will. And Duo touched him for the first time, then. His hand laid itself over Heero’s, and his fingers pressed softly at his knuckles. Heero dragged in a breath, and felt the heat begin to flow through his veins more strongly. He didn’t understand how that could happen, from just a touch – but he knew that it would only happen with Duo. With this man.

Duo gently took the cup from his other hand. It was shaking.

*

Trowa was gasping, slowly; in rhythm with his thrusts. His hand slid around to the front of Quatre’s body, and stroked at his cock as it jutted up from his groin; wet and engorged, and bobbing with their combined movement. Wufei watched them – watched Trowa’s misting eyes.

Duo was watching Heero, and his fingertips played carelessly in the water of his discarded drink.

“Heero…” he whispered, but there was no answer. Heero’s face was turned away from him – his profile half in shadow as he watched the others.

Duo rolled a half-melted ice cube out of the cup, and into his palm. Thin, silvery drips of the cold water ran between his fingers. The cup dropped to the ground, with the echo of a splash, and a clatter in the still air. He reached up, silently, and touched the cube to Heero’s cheek. He was rewarded by a gasp from the dark-haired man; a tightening of his chest.

Heero’s senses exploded in his head at this further, sensory shock; he was assailed by the sound of Duo’s deep breathing; the sight of the sexual scene in front of him, rich in its playfulness and pleasure. The heady aroma of Duo’s particular blend of citrus and lusty body scents. Now the addition of the sharp, burning pain of the ice cube against his taut skin – a shock to nerves already straining to hold together. And over it all, the deep, gnawing ache in his groin that would not let itself be ignored for much longer. That admonished him; that begged him for attention – or for someone else’s.

Duo’s hand was taking the ice down, down, slippery in his fingers; down to Heero’s throat, snagging on its way at his dry lips. Down to the hollows at his shoulders; down to his chest. Heero shivered – goosebumps leapt up on his skin, at the contrast between the sweat and the cold. His dark eyes darted like a rabbit’s; from the games in front of him, to the naked thigh at his side; to the glinting moonlight in the sky above.

“So sweet…” sighed Duo.

Then Heero sighed, and his body relaxed. He allowed it. He was entirely passive – Duo’s hand passed further down, pushing the thin fabric of his shirt aside. One hand pinched at a nipple, whilst the other brushed the ice almost cruelly against the other. Heero winced – the combination of pain, and cold, and ecstasy – he fought against the incredible feelings that swamped him. A desire – and a longing – and a desperate need.

His hand came down over Duo’s, stopping the progress of that man’s caresses. Duo’s eyes widened. Heero peeled his fingers up – scooped the ice into his own hand. There was little left now - it had melted rapidly, against the heated skin of Heero’s torso. Heero could feel the trail of water that it had left, down between his nipples; down to the pool of his stomach; down to the ache of his groin.

He turned to look at Duo, fully, at last. He knew it was probably the most dangerous thing he’d ever done. But every inch of him wanted it. He sank into the wide, jewel-bright eyes; felt the caress of the smooth, flushed skin. He lifted the last, sparkling shard of cool ice to Duo’s mouth, and pressed against it. There was a soft, liquid sound, and it opened suddenly – the ice slipped in over thick, red lips. He saw the flicker of Duo’s tongue inside, lapping at the moisture.

Kiss me, Heero…

But still Heero’s reason struggled.

“Why me, Duo? Why didn’t Trowa feel you? Hear you? Why hasn’t he smelt the fragrances – heard the voices?”

Duo laughed, softly. To Heero, it felt as if one of his hands was still at his chest; as if he still teased at one of his nipples. It was painfully erect – it felt bruised. “But Trowa Barton is a very different person, Heero – you know that already. He’s responded in a different way. He has a past that you will never know… a reason for his darkness, and his own brand of strength. He’s opened to me more swiftly – he has connected with Wufei, and so I’ve been with him for the whole time.”

“With him?” croaked Heero. He couldn’t stop staring at Duo’s lips, moving as he spoke.

“With him. Inside him, Heero. In whatever way you wish to explain it to yourself. Because he’s wanted that, since he arrived. Perhaps even before that.”

“And I haven’t?”

Duo’s voice caught awkwardly, for the first time. “You’re different, Heero. You’ve smelt the flowers and the herbs, and heard my voice, and the voices of the others – that’s more than Trowa has seen and heard, because you are stronger. Because you haven’t opened completely to me.” The hand on Heero’s body felt cold – the chill was like a brand, searing him, in amongst the heat of the air around them. “Instead, you have connected directly to me – and although that holds the promise of more joy, it’s – it’s different, Heero.”

Heero groaned. He wanted that heat – he wanted that chill. But he persisted. “You mean – you can’t come inside me, like you have with Trowa, can you? Is it – am I somehow protected from you? Resisting you?”

For the first time, the confidence and the assurance in Duo’s eyes flickered with uncertainty. For the first time, there appeared to be pain.

“Is that what you want, Heero? Do you wish to be protected?”

There were soft, grunting sounds from beside the pool – Quatre had draped his arms around Wufei’s neck, leaving the tall, dark man’s hands free, to play with his own cock. His head was thrown back, and he was pumping hard. Trowa was leant down on to Quatre’s back, still gripped between his legs, still plunging in and out of the soft shelter of his ass. His hand clutched forcefully around Quatre’s shaft, so that the boy was pulled back and forth, as if they were joined as one.

Wufei hissed suddenly, and his climax shuddered out of him, the seed splattering up over Quatre’s white-blond hair, and down on to the stones beneath the pair of them. Quatre groaned with the sight, his tongue licking out, as if to try to catch the drops. He bucked hard against Trowa’s hips, crying out with his own delight, as his cock leapt in Trowa’s hand, and his cum also burst out, with its own, glimmering trail, stark against the shadowed darkness of their bodies.

Heero wondered if he really did see Trowa’s head lift up from the haven of Quatre’s jerking body; whether he really saw his face turn towards him; whether he really saw the familiar dark green eyes slide close with passion, and his mouth open soundlessly. But there was no mistaking that he felt his lover’s gaze crawl inside him, and the imprint of his hands on his own body, and then – with a shocked, horrified fascination – he felt the delicious shudder of Trowa’s climax ripple through his own groin, reaching its spurting satisfaction deep into Quatre’s tight, welcome body.

*

Heero felt disorientated – his head was elsewhere. His body listened to his words - distant and weak - and his body laughed at him.

“Who are you, Duo Maxwell?”

Duo shrugged – Heero felt the pressure of supple muscles against his shoulders. Duo sat very close to him now. “I own this place, Heero. You call on it, and I must provide what you need. I like to provide what you need. It pleases me. It amuses me. It satisfies me.”

“No…” moaned Heero. Duo’s hand was on his thigh. His hand was on Duo’s. It had never felt so comfortable. “I don’t mean…I want to know who you are…”

Duo’s voice was back in his head. “Who do you want me to be, Heero?”

“No!” he snapped, again. “Don’t bullshit me! I want you to be who you really are, of course –“

And now Duo’s voice was sharp in reply. “No, Heero! Be honest. None of us want that, not truly. We all have stories for our lives; fables that we wish to be truth.”

“Truth…” echoed Heero.

Duo’s tone was seductive; persuasive. “You came here, both of you - not with your true selves. You had your own agenda – your own alibis. You wanted to reinvent yourselves, didn’t you? Like us all.”

Watch my lips, Heero…. kiss me, Heero…

“What do you mean -?”

A sigh. Anger. “Heero! What can I say to you?” His eyes flashed – his hand squeezed on Heero’s leg, but in frustration, rather than seduction. Heero watched the play of emotions on his face – the dangerous flashes in his eyes. He felt a surge of something inside him that was astonishingly like power. And he knew that he was disturbing Duo Maxwell more than anyone else ever had.

“Heero…” the braided man was tense; struggling in his own way. “You understand more than you think. You have more power than you realise…”

And then Heero leaned forward just a fraction more, and he kissed him.

There was no sound in the courtyard except for their shared breath.

*

Heero stood now, at the side of the courtyard, arm flat against the wall, as if he might fall if he moved from there. Duo was close beside him; Duo was stroking his thigh. Duo was whispering kisses against his ear, and into his neck. Duo’s lips were soft and firm, and indescribably luscious; Heero knew that, because he’d tasted them at last, and – as part of their unique flavour - he’d tasted the cool ice water, and the hot desire, and the mixture of fruit and lemons and an earlier glass of wine. He’d never felt so fantastic in his life. He was so very painfully aroused; never had he felt so desperate, not even for Trowa – not even when they were still at home, when they may have been kept apart for days, and had fallen back on each other in their shameful little corners, grabbing and clumsy and so full of lust that it clouded even their words…

Duo shook his head, gently, for he heard Heero’s thoughts. “It’s not shameful, Heero. It’s beautiful. But so much better with the right one – “

“The true one,” interrupted Quatre. His voice was strangely sharp. He was back on Heero’s other side, naked, and slippery with water droplets. He was a water baby – he’d slipped from Wufei and Trowa’s embraces, down into the pool, to wash himself; to wash away the hot, messy attentions of the others. To cleanse himself – inevitably - for the next. Then sprang out again, like a leaping, wriggling fish. Laughing – shaking his hair dry – returning to Duo’s side.

Duo glared at him, now, as if he shouldn’t have said anything. Heero saw the look, and stored it in his mind. Then the braided man was back to his relentless persistence; the words in Heero’s ear, the touches; the temptations. “Who do you want, Heero? Your lover? Did you see him deep inside Quatre? It was magnificent to watch. His confidence – his dominance. My bright one’s moans, and the way his body twisted under Trowa’s hands…”

Quatre’s laugh was brittle, and like the high notes of a piano. Heero gasped under Duo’s onslaught. His lips ached to touch him again – his hands waved uselessly at his sides, for Duo seemed sometimes to move too fast to be caught. He was at his mouth – then he was behind him. Then somewhere else, with only the echoing fingerprint of his hands on Heero’s body.

“Do you want to be taken by him, like Quatre?” whispered the voice. Quatre smiled; he was tugging at Heero’s shirt, flipping the small buttons open – it slipped back off his shoulders, and fell to the ground with a sigh. Quatre’s nimble fingers began to loosen the thread of his shorts as well.

“Or do you want to take him? To plunge inside him – to sheathe yourself in him, and feel him trapped beneath you – at your command –“

“I –“ gasped Heero. The thought of it made his heart skip out of synch. The fingers were all over him – “We never –“

Quatre laughed with pure pleasure. “But he is so gorgeous, Heero, when he’s taken! He melts into you – he moves with you like he belongs against your hips. And when he comes, he makes such a soft, plaintive cry – and he begs for you to come deeper; to fuck him harder –“

Heero stared, shocked. “I – Trowa? – shit –“

Duo laughed softly. He drew back from Heero, suddenly; cruelly. The absence of him was like a cold, biting wind on the heat of his desire. Heero realised that he was naked now – he didn’t remember when Quatre had removed all his clothes, but there was no sign of them any more.

“Watch him, Heero.” He turned towards the pool, and beckoned. “Come to me, Trowa.”

*

Trowa came over to where they stood. His eyes ranged across Duo’s face, with a searching need – with an anticipation of excitement. And then they turned to Heero. His face flushed – his eyes were almost unnaturally bright.

“Touch yourself, Trowa,” murmured Duo. “Like Wufei touched himself. That’s what you liked, wasn’t it? To see him pleasing himself. Let us see you doing the same –“

“Heero?” Trowa whispered. His hand slipped down to his crotch, gently fondling at his balls. His other hand crept up to his mouth – he sucked on the fingertips. His eyes shone up from under his limp fringe; he gazed at Heero.

“He’s watching,” came another voice, and now Wufei was behind Trowa, sliding hands around his waist. “And so am I, Trowa. I want to see you touch yourself – show me how well you know your body. Show us your comfort – your control. Show us what you like…”

His head rested gently against Trowa’s; Trowa leant back, briefly, to rest against his broad shoulder. Then he started to pump at his cock; slowly; with relish. Heero felt his breath catch.

Duo was there – of course. His voice in his head. His smell in his nostrils.

“Watch them, Heero. You enjoy the watching, don’t you? Trowa knew you would…”

Trowa was panting; animalistic sounds that were both low and shallow. He slicked his hand over the top of his cock, spreading pre-cum that shone in the shadows. His hips thrust out at an imaginary lover; his legs bent to support himself. Wufei clasped him tighter, and his body moved behind him, in a copy of his sensual stretching. Trowa ran his other hand down behind his ass, and jerked gently, as he probed a single fingertip up inside himself.

Heero gasped. “Trowa – fuck…”

“Isn’t he good?” came the reverberations. He knew that Duo was close, now. Back beside him – his breath caressing his naked skin. “He loves you, Heero. But he loves himself as well. He wants this for himself. Doesn’t he deserve that? Don’t we all?”

Wufei groaned, as if he couldn’t bear the passivity any more. His hand gripped at Trowa’s neck, turning his head back so that he could reach his lips with his own. He kissed him – he held his chin in his hand, while his tongue thrust into Trowa’s mouth, and they moaned passion into each other’s open lips.

“They’re magnificent together, aren’t they?” breathed Duo, with open admiration. “They understand the joy of it so well. The pursuit of pleasure - the satisfaction –“

“The sharing…” said Heero. His voice was stronger than he thought it would be.

He felt Duo tense with surprise. He felt the frisson of delight across the other man’s skin, and then Duo’s hands were turning Heero’s head to him again, his hunger deep in the ocean-blue eyes – expressing something that had passed between them that Heero had almost missed. Heero slid his arms around him – felt the rippling muscles down his back; the mysterious plunge into physical promise in the dip at the base of his spine.

Behind them, Wufei turned Trowa so that he faced the wall; he pushed him forward, so that he threw out his hands to support his bent body.

Duo’s voice was aloud now, and panting into his mouth. He was a very real thing in Heero’s hands – there was a very real plea in his gasped words. “It’s all for you, Heero… whatever I do. Kiss me, Heero –“ His tongue was hot and furious in the other man’s mouth, probing the corners, pushing against his teeth, and demanding to be tasted. Even though Heero’s arms were still holding him tight, his strength was obvious – it thrilled Heero in its own way. He felt Duo’s arms wriggle on top of his own – the eager struggle for dominance. He didn’t know who was embracing whom…

“I – can’t, Duo – I –“

“Hush,” moaned Duo. “Let me help you. You’re taking strength from us here, Heero. You are more than you could ever imagine –“

“Taking strength?” he groaned. His legs shook – he needed the support of the wall, it wasn’t enough to be trapped in Duo’s arms, kissing and feeling the strong, supple limbs mirroring his own. “From you?”

“Not yet –“ Duo gave a hitched breath. He tore his mouth away – he was still panting. His chest moved jerkily, his stomach tensed above his groin. Heero wanted to gaze at his legs – his hips – his cock. He wanted to reach for it…

Duo’s eyes were greedy; they were scouring Heero’s mouth, as if to find some last drop of excitement that he may have missed devouring. “Wait, Heero - watch him! He calls for you –“

And so Heero turned and watched the men beside them, as Wufei bent eagerly over his lover’s back, parting his long, stretching legs. He watched, as Wufei guided his damp, fiercely erect cock up against Trowa’s ass. As he pressed for entry; as Trowa bent further, and put a hand back to pull himself open, ready to welcome it. And he watched, as Trowa’s eyes lifted to his, and his face contorted with pleasure and amazement, as Wufei thrust into him.

He watched Trowa be taken. He had never seen his lover show such willingness – such eagerness. And never had he seen him offer submission. Not even when Heero had gathered the courage to ask.

No – never before had he seen such a look of ecstasy on Trowa Barton’s face.

TBC