Summary: AU. Corporate raider Heero Yuy has his sights on one Chang Wufei.
Disclaimer: I so totally own them. Bwahaha.
Feedback: It keeps the boys panting.
One thing I'm learning on this trip — I *belong* to a city. All these macho camping shit is *not* for me.
I curl up more tightly, shivering uncontrollably at the cold. All I had was a thin sleeping bag; hardly any protection against the cold. I swear, even though the sleeping bag is supposed to be water-resistant and it's not raining, the ground *feels* damp. And cold.
A strangled yelp hisses through my lips as a muscle spasms and twists in my right calf. Fuck! I rub it down furiously and in time, the knot loosens and the muscle relaxes.
I'm cold and uncomfortable. Even a bit hungry. But what is overwhelming is the cold; my teeth are actually chattering and my fingers feel like sticks of ice. Actually, on second thought, that’s good — now my nose, I can’t feel.
This is it. This is absolutely the limit. I can stand to lose a finger or two, but I’m fairly sure I need my nose.
I unzip the bag and scramble up, pulling the bag up around my shoulders — coldcoldit'sfrickingcold!! — and run out of my tent. I practically tumble into Chang's tent, pausing only to zip up the flap, before falling onto Chang.
"Wha— Yuy!" Chang bolts upright in shock, eyes wild. “The fuck?!”
I unzip his bag and slip in, ignoring his outraged splutters as wonderful heat registers. "Ahhh... You're so warm." My arms and legs immediately wrap around him, sucking on his lovely, lovely heat and holding him captive — convenient things, sleeping bags — and I nuzzle my frozen nose in his neck. He's a furnace!
"Yuy!" Chang screeches like a banshee as I dig my icy fingers under his sweater.
"I'm cold. The sleeping bag you gave me is not working," I complain.
"What are you talking about? Don't touch me!" Chang yells back, squirming like a netted fish. "And get out! Out!"
"No." I clutch in closer. "Shhhh, relax. I won't try anything tonight, promise. Besides, isn't it better to share body heat this way?"
Chang twists his head and eyes me balefully.
He purses his lips tightly and I suppress a grin. He's caving. The theatrical l shiver I give was not wholly feigned.
Suddenly, it just struck me that his hair is unbound and that he's not wearing his glasses, and I sort of regret my promise. He looks utterly ravishable; hair mussed and eyes dark and heavily-lidded with sleep.
"You had better not try anything," Chang growls grumpily and settles back down again, turning away. That had the very unfortunate effect of placing his bum right in front of my crotch, but I see no need to tell him that.
"Not tonight," I repeat sincerely. Maybe next morning, I think with a leer. "Good night."
The first thing that registers is the warmth in front of me. Chang, I realize muzzily. Then the cold of the ground beneath intrudes rudely, with that uncomfortable hint of *dampness* even through the waterproof fabric of the tent and sleeping bag. The *hardness* of the ground beneath me, a numb ache in my shoulder and a crick in my neck. The lack of feeling in my toes. The odd juxtaposition of warmth on my front and cold on back, the uncomfortable restriction as if I got tangled up in my blanket during the night. Some chirps and whistles and other sounds I'm unaccustomed to hearing, all telling me that I am most definitely *not* in Sanc.
Then something most important registers again. *Chang* in *my* bed. Ok, so it was technically his sleeping bag, but *still*. I crack open my eyes.
He is still asleep. Somehow, he had turned in the night and is now facing me. His head is pillowed on a bent arm, his other arm draped over my hip. Our legs are entangled, his thigh between mine and pressed distractingly *upwards*, a slim, sinewy column of muscle, firm and smooth. My own leg is trapped between his as well, and I can feel his erection digging into my right hip, hot and turgid.
I wriggle yet closer, shifting my hands until they lay flat against his waist. Chang gives a mumble and shifts, a slight rocking movement of hips as he attempts to detangle his leg, and *fuck*. My breath hisses out in a low groan at the innocent movement, fingers tightening unconsciously over his waist. His sweater has rode up during the night, exposing a tantalizing swath of smooth, tanned skin and… oh. My thumb brushes over his navel and he squirms slightly with a ticklish huff.
He feels absolutely delectable in my arms, heavy and solid and so, so warm. I give another squeeze and Chang purrs, his own arms tightening around my hips.
Compared to Duo, or my past lovers, he is more muscular. But it is a lean, compact sort of muscularity, not the awkward bulk of bodybuilders; the kind that is firm but not knot-rigid. I know Chang works out — he runs, bikes, and does some martial arts — and I think he's probably very flexible too.
...and now that I have *that* image in my mind.
I am a successful businessman because I know a great opportunity when I see one, and more importantly, I grab it when I see it. And now, looking down at Chang's slightly parted lips, pink and soft, and oh so close...
They *feel* soft. Normally sensuously thin, they are now slightly pouty from sleep. I feel Chang's lashes flutter ticklishly against my cheek, his eyes opening, pupils dilated and muzzy, but he doesn't push me away. Instead, he gives a lazy smile and *licks* my lips. When my mouth opens in surprise, his tongue darts in.
And when I'm still reeling from *that* surprise, he pushes me back and just slithers on top of me. God, Chang doesn't merely kiss, he fucks with his mouth, mapping territory and staking claim. His tongue sweeps over my lips and teeth, tangles with mine and captures it, leisurely and confidently. Warm hands range over my torso, down my sides and under my sweater, and all the while, he keeps up this undulating motion that rocks his groin against mine, and I can feel the delicious slide of skin against bare skin where my sweater had rode up and the frustrating catch of his pants against mine.
My god. Sex god. Chang, that is.
The touch of his lips and skin against mine leave me weak. And incoherent. I can hardly believe this is happening. When he starts nibbling on my lower lip, I sink my hands into his hair with a defeated groan. Still slightly fuzzy from sleep, I can't think—
God! His fingers—!
Twisted and pinched delicately, my nipples never felt so sensitive. Fiery pleasure streaks between my chest and groin, and oddly enough, tingling all the way down to my toes. It was almost too much, too fast, but still I arch up with a whimper, desperate for more, nails raking Chang's back through his shirt. And when he *tugs*, the sudden pain pushes all the sensations to a peak; I give a few more rabbit-fast thrusts and came with a muffled yell.
His dry humping becomes faster, harder, jerkier, and I watch in satiated fascination, the aftershocks of my release still thrumming through me. His hair, unbound and wild, cascades over his shoulder and back, and his eyes are closed, his lashes looking long and dark in the dim morning light. He looks fey, unreal. Like Odyssey’s siren.
Chang's hands slide down to grip my butt and I rock back obligingly. It wasn't long — too short in fact — before he climaxes with quiet grunt.
The tent is very quiet. Outside, an unconcerned bird chirps on. Chang pants, little tremors heaving his shoulders as he buries his head in the crook of my neck and nuzzles like a cat.
Me, I'm grinning beatifically as I wrap my arms possessively around him. I've no idea what brought *that* on, but I always knew it was only a matter of time before he succumbed. After a few moments, when his breathing has calmed down, I venture a light-hearted quip. "I think, no I'm *sure* you'll be quite the animal in bed, Chang."
My hand slips under his sweater, rubbing in small circles over the warm skin on his back, ever so slightly damp with his exertion.
"Chang?" I twist my head to look at him.
He *fell asleep*?!
Or had he even woken up in the fist place? He had better not deny this, not when he had been such an enthusiastic participant. Snorting wryly, I push him off me and settle into a more comfortable position beside him, well, as comfortable as I could with drying cum and twisted clothing. As I drift back to sleep, an unsettling thought occurs to me.
Damn it! I can feel my cheeks flushing hotly. I have never— I will not be the uke in our relationship!