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"Midnight and Tattoos"Written By: Miss Murdered Disclaimer: I don't own the GW characters - am
just borrowing to torment for my amusement Rating: NC 17 Warnings: m/m sex, smut, angst, bad language,
PWP, Wufei POV Pairings: 2x5 and past 1x2x1 mentioned Summary: Wufei has become isolated from the other pilots after becoming a Preventer Commander. Yet a chance encounter with Duo might be what he needs to reconnect with at least one of his former comrades. A/N: Written as I've been itching to write these
two for so long and to write from Wufei's perspective. I think of
this as my apology to Wufei for Domino and Wufei swimming/in swim
shorts may have been inspired by Free! Thanks to Lunar Pull for the beta.
"Midnight and Tattoos "
It was my favourite time of day to be in the Preventer
gym - close to midnight, no other agents using the 24 hour facilities
- especially normal agents who had partners and children and responsibilities.
A Friday night was not the time for working out. I dried myself off a little and untied my hair, ran
my fingers through it to help it dry and left the warmth of the pool
area to approach the lockers. I walked to the door, looked through
the glass, fogged slightly by condensation, and saw the main floor
of the gym. On looking through the window I saw I was not the only
person taking advantage of the quiet and the fact no one else was
around as there was Duo, kicking at a punch bag, using some kick boxing
moves I had taught him myself. The sight of him, Duo Maxwell – all around fun
guy who had plenty of friends and a lover - at the Preventer gym at
midnight on a Friday night confused me. It was unusual behaviour for
many reasons. Duo, of course, had Heero and he was absent, which was
a highly unusual circumstance as I knew they had worked out together
in the entire duration of their relationship – their competitive
spirits spurring them to work harder and achieve better results. I
also knew that Duo didn't make a habit of midnight training sessions
unlike myself who ended up here most nights – the quiet and putting
my body under intense pressure providing me with the skills to de-stress
after the excessively busy days as a Commander in the organisation. So his presence confused me. I thought briefly about
ignoring it, maybe he needed to blow off steam. Despite being no longer
an active field agent or being able to spend much time with any of
my former comrades, I was aware Duo had just returned from an assignment
so perhaps needed the opportunity to let out any pent up aggression.
I could sympathise. I found an intense work out got out all my withheld
anger after meetings on budgets and training provisions or whatever
bureaucratic nonsense I was meant to care about. Which I didn't care
about. Sometimes I missed the feel of a gun, the slide of blade, the
feeling of piloting. Yet, I had sacrificed it for a corner office
and esteem. I should have just walked by but instead I found myself
approaching the glass door, my attention completely diverted from
the locker rooms, forgetting that I was only dressed in swim shorts,
tight over my legs and a towel around my neck. It didn't occur to
me as I pushed on the glass and then found myself in the cold air-conditioned
air of the gym, an immediate shock to the system from the humidity
of the pool area. For a moment, I thought about not approaching. I glanced
around, saw all the other equipment unused, lifeless in the large
room and then towards Duo, who was concentrating on raising his leg
for each kick of the bag. I perhaps would've left if I'd not observed
him, seen the way his posture was wrong and I found myself reflecting
on my own martial arts training as a child. "Everything begins with posture," I'd been
told so many times and I had learnt how to hold myself correctly. Duo had a natural slouch. Duo had a lack of discipline.
Duo had not been raised like I had where failure was not an option. I watched him feeling vaguely voyeuristic without him
knowing as he was dressed only in low slung black sweat pants, his
chest heaving and gleaming underneath the harsh strip-lighting, his
feet bare and his hands raised in a fighting stance. I saw tattoos
I never knew he had, black and grey images of skulls and scythes and
roses spanning much of his torso. I'd known about those on his arms.
Not the rest of them. And of course my eyes drifted to his hair, trailing
behind him as it always did. There had been discussions about it so
many times – how it contravened policy on appearance, how it
was a risk in the field, how it was unprofessional yet he still had
it, longer now, stopping at mid-thigh, wisps of it sticking to his
sweaty back. He made quite a sight. One that I could appreciate despite
knowing he was clearly off limits - not that I would ever consider
having sex with him - more that I could see he was an attractive man
– much more attractive than the wide-eyed skinny boy he had been. It seemed I'd decided to stay and I spoke as I approached. "Your posture is lacking, Maxwell." He spun then, his fist raised but on seeing it was me,
his automatic aggressive stance relaxed, his fists moving to his sides,
unclenched. "Fuckin' hell, 'Fei, you coulda warned a guy." I only raised an eyebrow at the swearing. At the use
of my nickname that I had long since given up on correcting. It was
an endearment I supposed. One we all suffered. I had few friends and
though I had not seen Duo nor any of the others for some time due
to the nature and pressure of my job, I still considered them all
friends. I could take a nickname. A mauling of my actual name as it
was said with affection. And it was sincere. "Your posture," I said again, "you could
hurt yourself." He waved his hand dismissively. "Yeah, yeah, whatever.
Excuse me for not having perfect posture and all… some of us
weren't born with a stick up our ass, you know." With other people he would've expected a laugh but I
stepped closer, ignored his insinuation. I maybe was not as fun as
he was - but damn, few people were - but I was not the "stick
up the ass" guy he assumed I always was. I think I shocked him
when I went behind him, pulled at his shoulders roughly, laid a hand
across the small of his back, forcing him to stand straighter rather
than his natural slouch. It was in this contact of skin I felt the
slick slide of sweat, the brush of his braid against my fingers and
I was close enough to smell him – male, heady, the smell of exertion. My mouth felt dry, I felt myself unconsciously licking
my lips but I managed to speak, my voice level, calm. "Start
like that." I backed off and he nodded, started his next kick from
that position and his body appeared to move with more fluidity, the
move packing more power, the bag swinging like a pendulum. He looked
back at me then over his shoulder. "Better?" "Much." He smirked and I watched the muscles of his back move
as he collected a towel from the floor and quickly dabbed away some
sweat from his face and torso. "Suppose it's kinda late…
should head back to Quat's. Been trying to avoid this fancy ass soiree
so I made myself scarce, you know. Couldn't really think of anywhere
else to go." I listened to his words, the way he said "soiree"
in such a scathing manner and then I comprehended what he said. "You're staying at Winner's?" "Uh, yeah. I'm totally homeless without Quat." I frowned. "Yuy?" "You didn't hear?" I was tempted to fire back something insulting but I
was more self-aware than my teenage self who may have just said something
without thought or care. I saw the way he rubbed self-consciously
at his arm, how his shoulders hunched forward and I knew what I was
about to be told. And I wondered how I could've been so out of my
former comrade's lives to have missed it. "Me and 'Ro broke up." "You always break up," I said. They did. I'd never known two people who were so compatible
yet so utterly incompatible. It had been five years since the first
war, five years since they first met and they'd spent all those years
in some kind of yo-yoing relationship where they couldn't live with
each other and couldn't live without each other. Yet it was never
over. It was always threatened to be over but never actually was. "Naw… this time it's it, you know?
I've moved out. Collected my shit. The whole nine yards." "When?" I asked, a prickling of guilt squirming
its way into my conscience. "Like seven weeks ago." "Seven weeks?" "Gee, yeah, 'Fei. Seven weeks. Some kinda echo
in here?" I frowned and looked down at the blue padded floor rather
than at his face as I felt that this showed how severely lacking I
was in the friend department if I had not known that he and Heero
had broken up. Not only that – that they had been broken up for
seven weeks. "Yeah, well, totally fine, 'Fei, you're the Commander.
You get the fancy job title, you get all the shit right?" "That would be correct." "See, all good," he said, punching my shoulder
in some show of friendship and giving me a smile that lit up his entire
face. "Now after you, I guess?" He gestured towards the glass panelled doors that led
to the lockers and I turned, started to walk and heard a small gasp. "Shit, 'Fei. I didn't know… damn. Nice ink." It stopped my stride a little but I continued to walk
suddenly awkward knowing that Duo's scrutiny was on my body more than
it had ever been before and that thought made me more uncomfortable
than I cared to admit. I swallowed, heard him follow and catch up,
walking beside me but glancing at me. "It's a big piece." It was. The dragons, the fire, the blade incorporated
that spanned my entire back, a piece that had taken many hours under
the insistent buzz of the tattoo gun. It had been a therapeutic experience,
each hour a moment to reflect on my life, a meditative state achieved
as needles drove into skin, muscle and bumped bone. It was something
that no one saw and I had forgotten that he'd see it, his own interest
in tattooing obviously piqued and I felt more naked under his gaze.
A little hot. He'd never looked at me like this. Maybe he sensed that I was uncomfortable as I pushed
the door and we walked down the corridor to the locker room, as he
asked a few neutral questions about how many hours, how many sittings,
how long I'd had the thing, and I answered them curtly, not elaborating,
feeling like he was seeing me naked for the first time. In one sense,
he was. All I was wearing was the tight swimming shorts that stopped
mid-thigh, my hair was down unlike any of them had ever seen and my
back was exposed, the tattoo to honour the dead and evaluate my own
life visible. It wasn't until we arrived at the locker room and I
had my back to him, opening my locker, did I feel the touch of his
finger against my back, the touch making me shiver. I blamed the changing
of temperature for my body's reaction, the change from the heat of
the pool to the cool of the gym and back to the warmth of the locker
room. "It's beautiful," he murmured and I spun to
face him, grabbing the hand that had been touching my skin, wrapping
my fingers tight around his wrist. He looked a little shocked at the
hurried violence of my movements but his touch had unsettled me and
his proximity was making me react in ways I hadn't for so long. It had been a long time since I'd have sex with either
a man or a woman. I blamed the way I had shuddered underneath Duo's
touch on that. I felt his pulse quickening under my fingers, and I
looked straight into his blue eyes, a look on his face that was confused
by extremity of my reaction. I knew I should let go – my grip was tight around
his wrist but I couldn't, my own heart rate increasing, my eyes glancing
down at the intricate black and grey tattoos over his torso and how
his chest moved with each breath, the way his abs were firm, a part
of me aching to touch. He'd always been forbidden. Always Yuy's. Now
he wasn't and a desire, long since suppressed, surfaced. I pulled. Hard. He fell into me, my back hitting the
locker and I didn't loosen my grip as instinctively our lips connected.
We kissed hard, noses bumped, a lack of co-ordination but plenty of
fire, plenty of tongue and lips and teeth. I'd never had a kiss similar
to what I was having with Duo now, never felt someone so equally strong
pressed up against me, never felt anyone touch my hair, loose, fist
it in his hand and never had anyone grind their body instinctively
to mine with this level of aggression. My fingers finally loosened around his wrist as the
desire was to touch, to reach out, sliding my fingers over his back,
his abs, feeling the hair that led down to where his sweat-pants hung
low and where my hand desired to trail to. I was hard. I could feel
he was. It was inevitable I was going to touch his cock but I felt
a sudden reticence as much as my body was screaming at my brain. I'd
always been accused as a child of thinking too much and not reacting
enough. It was strange how my encounter with Duo brought back so many
memories. I grabbed for his braid, feeling it softer than I anticipated,
and pulled a little so that his face moved away from me and he looked
at me, his eyebrow quirked, his eyes confused yet clearly showing
lust. Lust for me. Not Heero. "I'm not a rebound," I said, breathless. He chuckled and slid to his knees in front of me, his
nose nuzzling the skin around my naval, his fingers removing the tight
material of my swimming shorts, the rush of cold air accompanied by
the feel of his hot breath near my cock, hard, hard for him. "Don't worry… so already did the rebound guy…"
he said, voice low, husky and I wanted to say that I was vaguely disappointed
that he'd already started screwing other men but then I wasn't going
to judge him as his lips opened, his tongue peeked out and he took
me into his mouth, letting me thrust my hips a little, letting me
grab for his hair and demand him to take me deeper. My breath was coming out in moans, I was unable to control
it, as he then released my cock, grinding himself up against my body
so that I could feel him hard against the soft jersey of the sweatpants. He kissed me and I reached for him, palming his groin,
feeling his dick react to my touch and I wanted more, sliding them
down, the boxer briefs as well, until we were both entirely naked
except tattoos. The kiss, the slide of our skin, the need to create
friction was intense, and I wanted him in a way that I couldn't express.
I didn't want to be his rebound after Yuy. Wanted more than that yet
I couldn't say that. Couldn't articulate that. Sex would be enough.
Right now, it would be enough. His hands were all over me, caressing the tattoo, touching
my cock, and I reacted to his touches, pushing him back towards the
low bench, forcing him to sit, straddling his thighs. He attacked
my chest from this new vantage point, licking and nipping at my nipples,
little bites and kisses littering my skin, as I ground down instinctively
on him. I reached for his cock, stroked and he moaned, throwing his
head back as I fisted him roughly, imagining he enjoyed my preferred
technique of masturbation and he spoke through gritted teeth. "We need something…now." "I couldn't… agree more," I panted as
he regained enough composure to lower his fingers to the small of
my back, descending further, teasingly, making me aware of his intentions. Duo was dominant person. As was I. Yet I didn't feel
the need to fight this when he touched ever so lightly there. "I have lube in my locker," he said and his
hand stopped moving and I suddenly realised this whole situation was
not entirely without the spectre of his relationship with Heero Yuy
despite the bravado. I nodded, stood to let him get it, the stalling of our
actions making it all seem suddenly less fierce, less aggressively
sexual. There was a part of me that said I should not be doing this
yet here I was, naked, hard, and wanting him while he was clearly
still damaged about the end of a five year relationship. I maybe wasn't
his first rebound guy yet I was still one. Clearly he had lube in his locker from his relationship
with Heero. Clearly that fact reminded him of that. Clearly it was
not the best idea for us to be having sex as he retrieved it. "Uh," he said, awkwardly, "I'm clean
but I'll… you know." He held up the condom packet and I shook my head. "I'm
clean," I confirmed. He shrugged, putting the packet away and carrying the
lube, and I suddenly felt more naked under his gaze than any point
up until now. I could admit it had been a long time since I'd had
sex with anyone and that made my life appear even more remote than
it already was. I'd cut myself off from so many things for my career
and the obligations of my duty as a Commander that I had stopped myself
from feeling and only a chance meeting, a glance through some glass
covered with condensation led to this. I didn't need to say that and
instead he was in front of me and I realised that perhaps something
showed. "Uhh, we totally don't have to do this, 'Fei." "No," I said, grabbing for him, sliding my
hands down his inked chest, "I want this." I emphasised my words by touching him, making him fully
hard again under my fingers, the awkward interlude having dampened
down some of the previous passion. He moaned at the touch of my hand and he slid his fingers
to the previous position, now slickened, sliding them into me, making
my knees weak. It had been a long time and I had forgotten the intense
pain/pleasure. I needed some stability, something to hold onto and
I moved away, only to lean forward against the bench that ran across
the middle of the locker room, my torso against it, my hands gripping
the wood and I heard his breath hitch, his fingers slide over the
tattoos until one was inside me again, forcing me to grit my teeth
until he skilfully hit my prostate, the sensation making me push back
into him, wanting more - wanting whatever he could give me. "Wufei," he said - not 'Fei, as he was at
my ear, his voice low and I appreciated the use of my name - it also
banished the thoughts of Heero - that he was fully aware it was me
and he ran his lips down my back, mouth warm over the ink, feeling
as though he was tracing the curve of the dragon as his fingers made
me pant, two, three, inside - the feeling intense, his kisses raining
over my shoulders. I looked back as I felt fingers leave me, him preparing
himself, the slide of his hand over his cock an erotic sight, his
braid sticking to his sweaty chest, his eyes closed at the strokes
he was giving himself. He noticed my eyes on him, my eyes scanning
the ink, a dove in flight, some Latin, and he gave me a small shy
smile at my gaze. "You ready?" I nodded and turned my head, lowering it to the wooden
panels, gripping tighter to the edge as I felt him start to enter
me, my body tensing. His hand slid under me, angling my hips and stroking
my cock, relaxing me as he pushed in, the feeling of someone inside
me had been something I'd forgotten and he took it slow, allowed me
to adjust, to feel every inch. I felt sweat collect on my forehead,
my arms tremble from the exertion of holding myself up and one of
his warm hands slid up my back to my shoulder, then to my hair. Duo leaned over my back once I was aware he was fully
inside and he kissed at my neck, his hand still teasing at my cock.
I felt his braid against my back, the strength of his muscles, the
feel of his hand in my hair, the touch of his lips. He was so hot
- hotter than I anticipated and he was holding himself still - I couldn't
help being impressed by his self-control as he slowly rolled his hips,
experimentally, sensually. "You okay?" I was torn between some show of masculine pride - telling
him I wanted to be fucked hard and fast yet the soft slide and touches
were far more erotic. I believed he guessed it had been some time
for me as he was only moving gently, his hand underneath teasingly
stroking my cock with each move in and out, and I pushed backward
to indicate I wanted more, his chest sliding off my back, standing
behind me, both hands coming to my hips then as he increased his pace
forcing me to grip harder. There were things I did to forget about how disappointed
I'd become in my life choice - in accepting the Commander position
rather than continuing in the field that would've made me happy. I
used the gym, I got a large tattoo but nothing was comparable to sex
- not with a man who knew how to touch my body, whose thrusts were
confident, hard, making me close my eyes and grip tighter to the wood
underneath my fingers. "Damn 'Fei," he panted and though he used
my name I suddenly regretted the choice of position, unable to see
his eyes, his reactions. "Stop," I said, my voice steady. Turning my
head to meet his eyes. "I want to see you." At the word "stop" he had seemed utterly confused
but then he pulled out and I stood, already quivering from the intensity
and I grabbed at his braid to bring him to my lips backing him up
on the bench, making him lie across it before I brought my body down
into him, holding his cock as I let him slide back in. There was a breathless moment between us and I traced
his abdominal muscles, the cursive script, the black and grey roses.
I leaned down, crushed our lips together and moved off him a little,
the wood hard underneath my knees, before I lowered myself back down
and released his lips. I leaned back then, my hands on his thighs
for support, as I moved up and down on his cock. "Fuck…you're incredible, Wufei." I took the complement, always prided myself on being
damn focused at any task and this was no different. He didn't say
much else as I began to move at a faster pace, his cock beginning
to make me lose any semblance of control, his hand wrapping around
me, a loose fist created so that I didn't feel the pain of the wood
against my knees or remember the isolation and responsibility of my
job. There was only him. Duo's hips thrust into me, his blue eyes dark and I
hoped that I wasn't a rebound in any way, that he did want me, that
he wasn't thinking of Heero. His hand sped up and I found my own movements
were fast and jerky, and I came, hard and hot, his gaze on me. I coated
his hand, his stomach and I felt him thrust up into me, breathing
my name as he came, his head hitting the bench hard. I didn't move, limp, unable to, and I felt him shake
underneath me, a rumble in his chest and I wondered for a moment what
was happening. He was laughing and a hand was on the small of my back. "I was just thinking about your posture, Chang." I quirked an eyebrow, shot back a retort without missing
a beat. "How was it, Maxwell?" "Pretty damn awesome." I shook my head, feeling my hair down and damp, and
left his body, his eyes on my back, the tattoo again as I went to
my locker, offered him a towel for the mess on his stomach. I heard him move and I wasn't sure what I was supposed
to say - a long time since I'd had a relationship or even a fling.
But I felt his strong arms around me, his body equal to my own and
he whispered close to my ear. "I need to shower. Care to join?" I didn't refuse - didn't wonder anymore about whether
it meant something more than one night of distraction to me and a
rebound for Duo - as I followed him to the showers, briefly seeing
the clock say it was now past midnight. Soon he was under the shower
spray, his back against the tile as I plundered his lips and slid
my fingers over his tattooed skin.
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