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"The First Five Times"Written By: Clara Barton Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing. The following
is an intellectual exercise with no intention of profit. That said,
these characterizations, words, and situations are mine. Please ask
before reprinting. Rating: NC 17 Warnings: angst, language, sexy times Pairings: 3x2/2x3, 1x5, past 2x5 Summary: After five months in a 'friends with benefits' relationship with Duo, Trowa is asked to pretend to be his boyfriend for Duo's ex's wedding. A/N: For Crafty Companion, who requested a few
text posts using 3x2. I decided to combine all of them into one fic,
which you maybe intended anyway? ( (text): .a bottle of vodka. My
place. now,(text) pants optional,(text) wanna be my plus one for my
ex's wedding? And pretend to be in love with me?).
"The First Five Times" Chapter One Private parties were, in my experience, either really easy, really good money - or they were complete and absolute hell. And I could always tell, as soon as the door was opened, just how it was going to go. Tonight, as I uneasily adjusted my police officer's uniform, I asked myself, not for the first time, why the hell people found this so erotic. If a cop ever showed up on my front doorstep and started to very thoroughly pat me down, I would be closing my eyes and praying I wasn't about to be thrown in jail again. Not wondering if it was going to turn into a strip-tease. Of course, the people who hired me for these kinds of things didn't usually have to worry about the possibility of a cop entering their home, finding their stash of drugs and/or arresting them for prostitution. I sighed, took off the parade cap and ran my hands through my gel-slicked hair one more time before settling the cap back on and ringing the doorbell. The house was nice. Small, a Craftsman bungalow that looked like it had been recently and expertly renovated, and the yard looked equally well cared for. I could see a fence around the backyard, and I had to tamp down on my jealousy. It must be nice. To be this ordinary, to have to worry about mowing a lawn. I was here for a bachelor party, and, remembering the last bachelor party I had been hired for, I wasn't really looking forward to it. The last party had been interesting, to say the least. The costume request had been a school girl, and I had had to doublecheck - had had to make sure the client understood that I was male, and had gotten a cool chuckle in response. To make matters even more... interesting, the bachelor party had been attended by only two people - both of the grooms-to-be, and they had wanted the full range of services I offered, and after three hours, I had left with a ridiculously hefty tip and an incredibly sore ass from being bent over and spanked, fucked, and spanked more. I didn't think this party would be along those same lines - I didn't think any party would. The door opened, and a tall, attractive Asian woman smiled up at me. "Damn. You're even better looking than your profile photo," she whistled. This, I had to assume, was Meilin. She had been the one to set this up for her cousin, her male 'stick so far up his ass I'm amazed his fiance found the room to put his dick up there' cousin, who was getting married in a week. She didn't seem to need a response from me - and in truth, I wasn't entirely sure what response I could give that wouldn't sound incredibly arrogant - so I merely arched an eyebrow. She smirked and turned her head away slightly, towards the interior of the house. "Oh my God! Someone called the cops! Wufei! What did you do?" I rolled my eyes at the horrible acting, but from the half-empty drink in her hand and the slight glaze to her eyes, I was sure the party had been in full swing for some time - everyone was probably already drunk enough for her to have sounded believable. I walked past her, thumbs hooked through my belt, and surveyed the living room. It was a small group - Meilin, three more Asian women who looked older and each wore wedding rings, a blond haired white man, and a handsome Asian man who had to be Wufei. He looked up at me, and while everyone else went wide-eyed, his narrowed. "Do you have a search warrant?" he demanded, standing up, setting down his drink, and crossing his arms in a pose that I was sure he thought would intimidate me. I shot Meilin a look. "Wufei, I don't think your courtroom finesse is going to get you out of this," she giggled. Perfect. She had hired me to impersonate a cop to strip for a lawyer. I walked closer to him, but he held out a hand to stop me. "No. Don't take another step. Until I see a search warrant and your badge number, you aren't moving." I sighed. It was going to be one of those nights. "Sir," I kept my voice low, "there's been a complaint." His eyes narrowed even further, and a scowl twisted his lips. "What kind of complaint?" he demanded, glaring at Meilin as if this was her fault. And, of course, it was. I pulled out my handcuffs, and the rest of the party gasped. "There have been a number of reports, complaints," I repeated, "that you are entirely too sexy. And I need to do something about that." By this point, everyone else had caught on. Except, of course, for Wufei. He was still glaring at me, but the tension around his mouth had gone slack with confusion. The line had been horribly corny - it had taken me four tries to be able to say it with a straight face, when I first began doing these things - so I wasn't at all surprised that he was confused. "We can do this the easy way," I told him, twirling the handcuffs around one finger menacingly, "or the hard way." I ran my other hand down my body, over my torso and to my groin, and squeezed. The rest of the party gasped or giggled, but I was entirely focused on Wufei. Finally, he got it. He looked past me to Meilin. "I'm going to murder you and tell my mother you were the one who wrecked Uncle Benny's Camero when we were fifteen," he threatened. "Hands up," I instructed, ignoring the byplay and stepping closer. He sighed, glared at me again, but, instead of telling me to get out or threatening to sue, he docilely held his hands out and let me cuff them. "Turn around. I think I need to search you. Thoroughly," I added, to the appreciation and whistles of the other guests. Wufei rolled his eyes, but gamely turned and braced his hands on the mantle. "What's your name?" the blond haired man called out, his voice more than a little slurred. "Officer...?" I rolled my own eyes, glad no one could see them behind my tinted sunglasses, and started to run my hands over Wufei's body, starting at his shoulders. "Officer Barton." I kept meaning to come up with something clever - Cathy, the stripper who had gotten me into this line of work in the first place, kept telling me I needed to - but I just wasn't too interested in devoting my time to coming up with sexual puns. Wufei, under my hands, was surprisingly pliant, his firm body leaning into my touch and his muscles flexing under me as I ran my hands over his arms, down his back. I paused, dramatically, just above his ass. "Don't forget to search his pockets!" Meilin called out helpfully. "Officer Barton," she added, with a giggle that turned into a snort. I slid my hands into Wufei's back pockets, squeezing his ass, and the guests cat-called loudly, but Wufei just softly snorted. I moved my hands over his hips, around to his front, and investigated those pockets as well. "Do you have a concealed weapons permit?" I asked, and the guests howled while Wufei managed a weak, amused cough. I completed the search by stroking down his thighs and legs - his body was trim and toned, and I couldn't help but think, stick up his ass or not, whoever Wufei was about to marry was a lucky guy indeed. I turned Wufei around and noticed that he was smirking, just slightly. Maybe this wasn't going to be so awful after all. "Want me to read you your rights?" He rolled his eyes but his lips twitched, and he allowed me to nudge him onto the nearest chair. "You have the right," I began, removing my hat and placing it on his head to the applause from his friends, "to sit back," I ran my hands down his chest, pushing him fully back onto the chair, "and enjoy the show." It was the cue, and, thankfully, Meilin wasn't drunk enough to miss it. Music started to play, far too loud, and the bass line thrummed through the air and my body, competing with my heartbeat's natural pace. I moved my hands back to my own body, running them over my chest and down to my thighs. Meilin adjusted the music so that it was less deafening, and I started the strip show in earnest. I left my glasses on, for the time being, and started with my shirt, easing one button out at a time, swaying and moving my entire body with the music, giving Wufei and the rest of his guests equal amounts of attention. I had learned that, as much as these things were geared towards rewarding - or punishing - one person, I usually got tipped a lot more if everyone felt involved. So, when I finally pulled off the shirt, I tossed it towards the couch, and one of the married women caught it triumphantly. I wondered if I was going to be able to get it back. I reached down for Wufei's still-cuffed hands, lifting them and placing his palms on my tanned, oiled skin. There were gasps and giggles from the others, and even Wufei seemed to have relaxed enough now to chuckle. I guided his hands across my pecs, down to my well-defined abs, and pretended that he had squeezed them. I gasped and arched into him. He lifted an eyebrow when I moved his hands lower, to my belt. "Not so fast," I chided him, and pushed his hands away, as if he had been the one to go there. The others laughed, and then oohed as I pulled off my belt in one smooth motion and then draped it around Wufei's neck. I popped the top button of my fly, and then turned around, so that my ass was in Wufei's face and I was facing everyone else. I gave him a lap dance, slow and tantalizing, rubbing my ass and thighs against his body in time to the music, until I felt him start to grow erect. I stopped, then, because this wasn't that kind of party - Meilin had been very specific about that: make sure her cousin had a good time, finally got out of his shell, but don't humiliate him too badly. I took a step away from him, straightening up, and then, in a move I had had to practice dozens of times before I got it right, ripped off my pants. More claps and catcalls greeted the sight of my red thong, and I dropped the pants to the floor before turning back to give Wufei the front view, and everyone else a chance to appreciate my ass. Wufei's cheeks were a little flushed, and I knew I was walking that line towards humiliating him too badly, and needed to be careful. Still, they had paid for my services - and I intended to give everyone their money's worth. So I sat down on Wufei's lap, straddling him, and took off my sunglasses and put them on his eyes. "You might need these," I told him, leaning close and standing, slowly, letting my face, chest and abs brush against the side of his face as I stood, until he was eye-level with my groin. I hooked my thumbs in the waistband of the thong and it felt like everyone else was holding their breath, wondering if I was really going to do it. Not everyone liked the full show, as we called it - full nudity made a lot of people deeply uncomfortable. But, to my surprise after her other stipulations, Meilin had insisted upon it. I ripped the thong off and dropped it onto Wufei's lap. Wufei's cheeks were almost as red as the garment, and I had to smirk. It was impossible to see what he was looking at, behind the glasses I had given him, and it was one small kindness in a show like this. I took my hat back from his head, smoothing my hair before putting it on. "Now," I said, "if I hear about any more trouble from you," I reached out and nudged his chin with my curved index finger, until his face was tilted up to mine, "I'll have to take you in, and I know some of the guys are dying to give you a hard time." I emphasized the words, less for his benefit and more for his drunken friends, who cheered and clapped wildly. Wufei was still blushing, though, so I smirked and stepped back. I tipped my hat at the others. "I hope you all have a fine evening. Don't hesitate to call me again if I need to come back." I picked up my clothes, starting with the belt around Wufei's neck, then the trousers on the floor, and then walked over to the couch where one of the women was still clutching my shirt. "Ma'am, I'm going to need that back so I don't have to arrest myself for indecent exposure." She giggled, but I heard someone - probably Wufei - snort derisively at the line. She gave it back, and I rewarded her with a smile that had her sighing and leaning towards me as I stood up and moved away. Reaching into the shirt pocket, I pulled out the key to the handcuffs and held it up, waiting for Wufei to look at me. "Should I release him?" I asked the others. There was a loud chorus of no, and I smirked and tossed the key to Meilin. Even behind the glasses, I could feel Wufei's glare. I walked out of the room, knowing all of their eyes were on my bare ass, and continued until I was out of their sight before I stopped to dress again. Meilin came out to join me. "Oh my god, that was even better than I thought it would be! Any chance you do birthday parties?" "I do all occassions," I assured her as I accepted the roll of twenties she handed to me. I counted it - I had been shorted too many times in the past - and paused when I finished. She had given me an fifty, which was either an outrageous tip or a mistake. I met her eyes and she smirked. "You earned it, Officer Barton. I don't think I've seen Wufei that relaxed since his ex got him drunk when we went to Burning Man." I had a hard time imagining Wufei attending Burning Man, and I had to chuckle. "My pleasure," I assured her, and pocketed the money. "And mine!" I nodded a farewell to her and then walked out of the house. I had parked down the block, knowing it was better to enhance the surprise of my arrival than announce it with headlights and an engine turning over, and walked back to my car sedately. Easy money, Cathy had told me, years ago, when I had hesitated about getting into stripping. Easy money - and you only have to do what you're comfortable with. Of course, I was comfortable with a lot. And after my first week working for Hollywood Strippers, the ridiculous amount of money I had earned had soothed any of my fears. Or at least, allowed me to bury them under the ability to finally - for the first time in years - pay my rent on time, and be able to buy enough groceries to eat and not walk around half-hungry. My car, though, was a reminder of my past - a Nissan Pathfinder with nearly 300,000 miles on it. I had traveled across the country a few times in it, and it had been the one reliable thing in my life for the past ten years. I got in and checked my phone for any missed messages, and had to grin when I saw Duo's name. I had met Duo Maxwell eight months ago, in less than ideal circumstances. It had been late, and I had run out to a corner gas station to grab a six-pack of beer, while Duo, who had just gotten off of his shift as a nurse at the county hospital, had stopped to get a slushie. I had been too busy checking out his ass as we stood in line to even notice when three guys in ski masks came into the gas station, waving guns, shouting for us to get to the ground. I had dropped, instantly, all-too familiar with how quickly this could turn to shit, but Duo, with his smart mouth and complete disregard for personal risk, had been slower, had loudly muttered something about assholes with little pricks, and earned himself a kick to the gut and a trip to the ER when one of the guys shot him in the side. I'd been on the floor beside him, watching him slowly bleed out in front of my eyes, for five minutes before the guys had taken everything and left. It had been another ten minutes before the cops arrived. Another five before the ambulance. I hadn't known what the fuck I was doing, but I'd stripped off my shirt and shoved it against the wound, had had to be practically hauled away when the EMTs had finally arrived, had insisted on going to the hospital with him and waiting for him to get out of surgery. Waiting for him to wake up. And when he had, blinking his eyes open in confusion when he saw me, a complete stranger, in his hospital room, I had told him what a fucking moron he was and he had just grinned at me, still high on pain meds. "You're the cute guy with terrible taste in beer," he had slurred before falling back asleep. It wasn't the most normal way to begin a friendship - but, aside from never really being able to forget about the sight of Duo's pale face and the sound of his ragged, wet breathing, I didn't regret meeting him. We hung out at least once a week - sometimes more, but our work schedules were different enough that it was tough to manage. From the start - me admiring his ass and him calling me cute - there had been blatant sexual tension between us. It had taken three months, though, before Duo finally kissed me and told me he wanted to fuck me. And even now, five months later, we weren't dating. The week before we met, Duo had said, he had broken up with his boyfriend of two years, and he didn't want to jump into anything serious. I had bad luck with relationships - had never had one last more than six months - and I wasn't about to risk screwing up whatever it was I had with Duo by trying to make it fit some conventional romantic model. So, if all he wanted was hanging out once a week - going out to a movie or a bar or, once, bowling, and then going back to his apartment or mine and fucking until we fell asleep together - I wasn't going to complain or force the issue. Friends with very good benefits was enough for me. I relaxed in the Pathfinder, taking off my hat and carelessly tossing it towards the trunk, and looked at the unread messages on my phone from Duo. Me. You. A bottle of vodka. My place. Now. Pants optional. I smirked at that second message, sent immediately after the first, and looked at the time. Half an hour ago, probably when I had been feeling Wufei up against his mantle. Was working. Still want me? I sent the message and, almost immediately, a bubble with an ellipse appeared on my screen. When do I not want you? Also. My bottle of vodka is almost empty. So bring your own. I winced at that. Duo wasn't usually a heavy drinker - something, or someone, from his past made him incredibly leery about being drunk. Rough night? There had been times, in the past, when Duo had told me he needed to forget all the people he hadn't been able to save, when he had begged me to make him forget. Wanna be my plus one for my ex's wedding? And pretend to be in love with me? Well. That wasn't the explanation I had been expecting. Need to change. Be at your place in half an hour. ~ * ~ |
