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Nerima, Tokyo, was a beautiful residential area with small businesses galore, beautiful afternoons and regular rain showers. The high population of martial artists kept the city streets crime-free (although that same population was also responsible for the high cost of insurance in the area but worrying about a burst wall or two was better than worrying about the possibility of a bullet in the brainpan). Restaurants of every kind and variety sprang up on the sides of the street, from small vegetable stands to okonomiyaki restaurants to authentic Chinese cuisine. Speaking of authentic Chinese cuisine.... the Nekohanten was closed for repairs.
Shampoo sighed, utterly and completely bored. There were no books in Chinese here that she had not already read, that she did not know by heart. It was a beautiful rain-free day outside, perfect for her pursuit of one Ranma Saotome, but somehow she could not face the possibility of being forced into acting like such a... well. Such a *bimbo* as Ranma seemed to require in a wife. He was beautiful, yes, and strong, that, too, but to be perfectly honest.. He wasn't the sort of husband material a smart girl would choose on her own, phrased tactfully. She stared morosely out the screen of the back door into the small alley behind the kitchen. No, today was not going to be one of her better 'bimbo' days.
"Xi'an Pu!" came her great-grandmother's cry from the splintered remnants of their dining room. They had still not received the new shipment of tables that were due to arrive this afternoon although the wooden floor had been replaced only days ago. Ranma and Ryouga had utterly destroyed most of the room only last week and Mu Tsu's desperate attempts to get them out of the Nekohanten had only resulted in more damage.
"Yes, great-grandmother?" she replied in soprano-lilting Mandarin, a lavender eyebrow raised as she swayed through the door from the kitchen. Her obaba stood perched on one of the old tables that Mousse had managed to put back together for their own temporary use, her box of treasures open beside her.
"Here, child," the old woman replied in kind. "Look through these again. None of the jewelry pieces are quite so harmful as the brooch you chose last time and perhaps you'd like one of the baubles you may find here. I think I'll go start supper. Call Mu Tsu, won't you?" With that, the little old ghoul hopped down from the table and shuffled off towards the kitchen.
Call Mu Tsu. Another thing that Shampoo did not think she was capable of facing today. He had pursued her with single minded fervor for nigh on thirteen years and for all that he had grown to be a beautiful man with perfect satin-black hair and intense pearl-grey eyes, she did not love him. He was her friend, yes; and if she could only get him to see that he could never be her mate, he would be a fine addition to the men's council, one of her highest advisors. Mu Tsu was highly intelligent and sensitive to most situations as any male should be to get by in a world in which women reigned absolute in their loves. {Hm. X'pritz should not have spoiled him so,} she thought with a heavy sigh as she sifted through the jewels laid out upon the table. {Perhaps if she taught him as a child that he was a mere male to be dominated and subjected to her will instead of teaching him such ridiculous theories of equality..} That thought trailed off as she carefully set aside a box that would not open easily. She wasn't opening any locked boxes today, thank you very much. The last one had been enough.
"SHAMPOO!" came a joyful cry from the doorway of the restaurant. She turned to glance at the tall figure there, the honeyed baritone of his voice carrying in the small room as he bustled straight past her to lay a gentle hand against the stone pot of a purple bush near the kitchen. His confused voice made her teeth grit as he declared in Japanese, "When did you start wearing stone dresses, Shampoo? Is it some sort of new training exercise?"
Sudden irritation rose sharply in her veins as she hefted a little jade effigy from the table. The weight of the thing was comfortable and its head fit perfectly in her palm as her eyes narrowed sharply. Damn Mu Tsu! Why didn't he just wear his glasses? WHY could he not remember the rules which should have been ground into him as a child? There was no chance that she could ever belong to the blind warrior and his pursuit of her drive her nigh on to MAD!
Violet eyes glittered with anger as she hefted the statuette, growling, "Mousse stupid idiot come flying to hold Shampoo! He call potted plants Shampoo, he call statues Shampoo.. he call crazy Kodachi-girl SHAMPOO! Shampoo no able to accept Mousse now no more than before! Shampoo.... Oooo..." The frustration singing in her veins from her thoughts directed, as always, at the boy she had known since they were barely days old. With a sharp fling, the jade carved piece tumbled through the air heavily, spinning end over end. "SHAMPOO WISH YOU LEAVE HER ALONE IN FUTURE!"
Mousse turned, pushing his glasses down on the bridge of his nose. His movement was in perfect time with the landing of the heavy jade, glasses shattering into pieces and falling to the floor as it slammed against the side of his head, bringing forth a sharp cry of pain, something Ranma could never have gotten him to utter. He crumpled as she watched, long silky black hair pooling around him before a sudden brilliant flash of light filled the room, making her cry out with the pain of it.
"Oh, great-granddaughter. What have you done?" Cologne asked from the doorway, her tones horrified. She pongoed over on her staff before sliding to the floor and picking up the heavy little statue.
Shampoo looked around for Mousse worriedly. "Shampoo just tell him be gone and throw statue at him. Shampoo do that all time!"
Cologne sighed and fondled the statue. "But this little statue has the unpredictable ability to give the owner one wish. You seem to have wished Mousse out of existence, Shampoo. Or out of our time, from the sound of that shout. Oh, what am I going to tell his mother?" She sighed again.
"M...M...Mousse... GONE?" Shampoo asked, horrified. She hadn't meant... to... Tears welled up in her eyes. "Shampoo wish Mousse away FOREVER?"
Cologne nodded slowly. "Yes, great-granddaughter. I believe that it is so."
A choked cry of denial broke her throat and she fell to her knees, sobbing. For all that Mousse was a nuisance... for all that she did not love him in the manner for which he yearned...
Mousse was her only real friend here. And she had banished him beyond her reach!
Cologne patted the weeping girl's back. She would comfort her Xi'an Pu, the future leader of the Joketsozuko, and then it would be best that she go and prepare for the journey to their homeland. She would have to tell X'pritz herself, face to face, that her son, her only child, was gone. With a heavy sigh, she gently rocked Xi'an Pu back and forth. The duties of an elder wore on her more and more as the days went by, fleeing from her. Even after three hundred years of life, it was difficult to face what she would now be required to do. Decision made, she gently nudged Xi'an Pu. "Go dry your eyes, my dear. You may stay here. I will go to the village alone."
* * * * *
Wufei sent a blazing sheet of fire out against one of the mechs attacking the other four Gundam pilots, jumping into the middle of the fray. Damn Khushrenada! Damn him and damn him again! A muscle jumped in his jaw as his entire Gundam shook with the impact of a solid hit against its back, despite the fact that he'd managed to thin out the flock surrounding the others a little.
"What the fuck is THAT!?" Duo's voice came over the comm channel fuzzily and it was then that he saw it, fluttering white robes and black hair falling into the middle of the firefight. Without thinking, he dove to catch whoever or whatever it was that was falling from the sky, cradling it in the giant hand of his Gundam even as the mech hit the ground, shaking the entire battlefield and nearly knocking him unconscious.
"Unh..." Wufei opened night-dark eyes, tense, looking into the palm of Shenlong. It looked like.. a woman, but he couldn't be sure. "I think it's a woman," he reported darkly. "I'll take her off the field and see to her, try to find out where she came from. If she's a spy... I'll deal with it."
Heero's voice sputtered over his failing intercom. "The rest of us are getting out as well. Ninmu kanryou."
Wufei brought his hand up to cradle the body gently as he took off for the hangar to steal a plane and to get the body into. Then, maybe, he could figure out what was going on.
It was a short dirty fight to get to the planes, difficult when Shenlong's hand was cradled to its chest with a body held delicately in those fingers. Parry, thrust, pass, a beam saber coming straight at him only to have that mech's arm grabbed tightly in Heavyarms' grip. Wufei gave Trowa a quick salute of gratitude and slipped into the area where the cargo planes were kept. It took only moments to ascertain which planes were ready for flight and which planes were not, and he placed red flags in the windows of those that were to let the other pilots know which planes were acceptable. He wished there was time to see to whoever or whatever lay cradled in Shenlong's palm but a quick round of mortar fire nearly blew off the large doors meant to shut weather out of the hangar and it was all he could do to get Shenlong inside and get the body settled peacefully on the floor before sliding himself into the pilot's seat.
Well, it could wait. He would go to his current safehouse in what had once been central Russia where the unpleasant cold was already beginning to settle in thickly in the late September season. Once there, he would ascertain whether the person was friend or foe and dispatch them accordingly.
* * * * *
A low, steady stream of quietly muttered expletives underlaid the sound of water pattering musically against water. The young Chinese pilot swore to himself as he wrung out the ragged cloth he was using to clean the body of his... what? Hostage? Refugee? Had he rescued an innocent victim or captured an enemy?
After all, there was little chance of an innocent falling into the middle of a firefight between multiple mechs....
But, then, there was nothing about this boy that looked suspicious.
Which in itself was suspicious.
But....
Wufei gritted his teeth and swore a little more loudly, carefully brushing back thick black bangs to swab at the darkened wound on the other boy's temple.
This strange creature was definitely male, though he had mistaken the long hair, almost delicate features, and rich, traditional clothing for those of a female until he had actually opened the tunic and discovered a chest as flat as his own.
The boy was Chinese, which was either a weird coincidence, or even more suspicious. Wufei was still undecided on that matter. He appeared to be a year or two older than Wufei, possibly more. He was certainly taller, and for all he was slender, he was firmly muscled, with a warrior's build, and dragging him into this remote cabin had been a pain in the rear. Wufei growled.
He was mostly unwounded, except for a few abrasions and a nasty lump on his head. Wufei frowned as he tended that wound. It looked as though something had struck the boy, hard, and he wondered if somehow he had done this. He thought he was pretty proficient with Nataku -- more so than *anyone* else could ever be, not that he'd ever let anyone else pilot his Gundam -- and he'd tried to be gentle... but they'd been in the midst of a heated battle. So maybe it was his fault the other boy was so deeply unconscious.
Wufei chewed on his lower lip, shivering in the chill air. This cabin was well-hidden, but there were drawbacks to this. This was a cold country, and the small shelter had no heating system. There were piles of blankets on the bed, as well as a fine goosedown comforter, but Wufei wasn't in the bed. His... guest was.
"Hn." Finished with his rough nursing duties, he packed things back in the med-kit, watching the quiet body with narrowed eyes.
He had pulled the long hair back in a neat braid before he began, to keep it out of his way. Though... he had found himself for some reason thinking it had seemed a shame to restrain it, as he had felt the soft strands flow over his wrists. He shook his head sharply. Such long hair was foolishness for a warrior. Likewise, the thick bangs falling nearly to hide the boy's eyes were a liability. He still couldn't figure out how Trowa managed to function with that thick chestnut fall hiding almost half his face!
The boy's body was bared, except for his boxers and a few bandages. Definitely the body of a warrior, sleek and trim, firmly muscled and without an ounce of fat to be found. Wufei could find nothing lacking when comparing the boy's physique to his own.
Suddenly he noticed that the boy was shivering. Well, hell, so was he! It was *cold* in here! Wufei scowled. There was only the one bed. He wasn't about to sleep on the floor, but neither was he cruel or unrefined enough to thrust a wounded person into that position in his place.
"Hn." He folded his arms about himself, feeling his own flesh chill beneath his fingertips. Oh, hell with it! This boy may be a warrior, and he may be as suspicious as anything Wufei had ever run across in his life, but surely Wufei was up to this challenge! If the boy awoke, he would probably be confused and in pain from the head wound. If Wufei couldn't hold his own against someone in that condition, then he deserved defeat!
This decided, the Gundam pilot crawled into the bed, shoving his guest aside and tugging the thick covers up over both of them. He shivered a few long, agonizing moments, the touch of the chilled sheets almost unbearable against his bare arms, seeming to sap the warmth out of his tank and pants. He knew it would get better as soon as he had been here long enough to heat the pocket around him, but for some reason the wait seemed unendurable. His teeth were chattering and he couldn't restrain the shivers breaking over his goosepimpled limbs, even though he could usually keep exquisite control over every function of his body!
With a stifled curse, Wufei curled closer to the unconscious boy in the bed with him. That immediately improved matters. He sighed, somewhat unhappily. Sharing body warmth was the only intelligent thing to do, especially since the other boy was wounded, but....
Carefully, he wrapped an arm around the strange boy's chest, wincing as his cheek came to rest against the boy's shoulder. He didn't even get this close to people he knew, had never even touched Trowa, outside the few times their fingers had brushed while handing each other cups or tools, and yet.... And yet....
He was rapidly warming, and it didn't feel too bad to be resting against another body, and it had been a hard fight with a prolonged escape, and sleepiness tugged at his lids. It was stupid to fall into vulnerable slumber while in bed with someone who was most probably an enemy... but....
But....
Wufei yawned and let the dark wings of oblivion sweep over his muddled thoughts and blurred senses.
To hell with it.
* * * * *
Mousse sighed deeply in his sleep and wrapped an arm more firmly around the warmth beside him. He was almost awake but his mind didn't want to admit to wakefulness. Not yet. He turned, head aching, and buried his cold nose in silken hair that smelled of patchouli and coconut and something else indefinable, good, that teased at his senses. Dragging his eyes open hurt and when he did he wondered why he had bothered. The world was an indistinguishable blur of color in the tiny amount of light coming in from somewhere that he couldn't make out, even the faintest of outlines blurred beyond his eyes' reach. It had always been thus and he accepted it, yet each morning he woke he prayed that it would be the tiniest bit better, that perhaps today, *this* day, would be the one in which he could look at Shampoo with clear slate bright eyes unclouded by thick lenses and declare his love.
His eyes closed again and he pressed against the warmth of the body beside him, thoughts vague and incoherent. Mmm, so warm. It had been forever since he woke with someone pressed beside him, since he had left his Amazon village, in fact. It had not occurred to him yet to question whose body lay pressed so close under the huddle of those heavy blankets, so caught up was he in his own thoughts, cryptic though they were. He pressed his cheek against that head and hugged the sleeping body close for a moment, thinking of Xi'op and the pained expression on his face as Mousse told him he must follow Xi'an Pu, be it to the ends of the earth. Xi'op had never understood how Mu Tsu could hold his body so tightly in the cold nights of the mountain province in which they lived and yet declare his love for Xi'an Pu the very next day. He had thought it bewitchery and Mousse had to admit that it was entirely possible. Why else would a man allow himself to be humiliated and hurt as desperately as Shampoo had done to him so many times? His Master had spent years trying to convince him that it was better to accept a man's genuine affection than to chase a creature such as Shampoo, a woman destined for great things in their small Amazon village. Mousse had heard the words but they had not found their way into his heart. He had loved her madly, selflessly, for all of his life.
Well, the last words Shampoo had spoken had
obviously been meant. For all that he could not see his surroundings, his other
senses made up for it. He carefully slid away from the heated body beside him
and laid one warm foot on the bare boards of the cold floor, shivering. The
well-worn polish of the floorboards here were a third of the width of those in
the Nekohanten and
they were silky beneath his foot unlike the rough bare
boards in the upper floor of the restaurant. The shape of the room was hazy and
he could not make out anything even remotely likely to be his clothing. One hand
raised to rub against the bump on his head.
It had not been this cold in Nerima, not by far. Nor had there been this deep delicious silence, the sound broken only by a low whistle he took to be the sound of wind moving through pine branches. These things, when added to his groggy condition, led him to believe the only thing which he could: that, while he lay unconscious, the two Chinese women had drugged him and had him taken from Nerima to get him out of their hair. Well, if that was the way things were going to be... He sighed, standing, weaving only slightly as he clutched his aching head. Who did he think he was fooling? He couldn't even fool himself. Mousse knew that as soon as he found his robes and his glasses, he'd be on his way back to Nerima, no matter how furious he might be between now and then. Dejected, he moved forward, hands out, reaching. Where was the wall....?
A quiet click sounded behind him, the sound recognized only because he had seen one Jackie Chan movie too many. His hands raised slowly and he turned, the thud of his hair wrapped in a braid behind him a comfort against his back. "I'm unarmed," he said simply, which was true. It wasn't as if he was prepared for battle without his robes or his weapons. "And I couldn't see you even if the lights were on."
Wufei narrowed his eyes, the gun held steady and unwavering. The boy was a slim line of silvery-white flesh in the darkness, and it was true he was unarmed. Wufei was certain of that much, as he had himself stripped the unconscious stranger to his boxers. There had been a rather esoteric collection of knives and other blades carefully hidden in those winging sleeves, but beyond that, nothing.
Still, the boy was most certainly a warrior, and even in the darkness of the room, in a state of obvious confusion, had moved with a singular grace that only those well-versed in martial arts possessed. A warrior needed not be 'armed' to be dangerous, when his body and mind were weapons in themselves, as Wufei well knew.
Even in the dim evening light filtering through the one small window this cabin boasted, Wufei could see that there was something wrong with this boy's eyes. Perhaps he was faking it, but for some reason Wufei's gut instincts told him the stranger spoke the truth. The boy squinted, though it did not seem to help, and his gaze was not focused on Wufei's face, or even the gun in his hands, but sort of encompassed all of him, as though he was a blur that was only faintly distinguishable from the bed. Wufei doubted anyone could fake such myopia; even Yuy.
"Hn." He lowered the gun -- not his weapon of choice, but a necessity -- and clicked the safety on. He worried at his lower lip as he thought swiftly. Follow his intuition, that was telling him this boy was not a threat and was nothing more than what he looked... or remain suspicious as only someone hunted from every quarter needed to be?
"Anou...."
The boy lowered his hands carefully, one finger going to the bridge of his nose in an unconscious gesture; pushing up glasses that did not rest upon his face. Wufei smiled unwillingly at that, then grinned more widely at the muffled sound of irritation and embarrassment as the boy realized what he had done. He could see that the boy was starting to shiver, clad only in a light pair of boxers as he was.
"Aren't you cold?" he asked finally, cocking his head.
The boy started at his words, thick brows creasing as he apparently tried to place the voice.
Wufei sighed. "Come back to bed. It's going to be a long night." He was getting chilled, too, where he had thrown back the covers to fix his firearm upon the boy. He tugged them carefully back over his legs, ignoring the stranger, and carefully tucking the gun away where he was pretty sure the other could not find it. Finally he looked up, adding as an afterthought, "Ore wa Wufei."
Mousse shook his head slightly, the braid irritating him. He reached around and carefully let loose the tie to shake his hair back out, concentrating on sensing any movements from the 'Wufei' on the bed. "Ore wa Mu Tsu," he responded simply. "But I'm sure you knew that, right?" He sighed softly. "Whatever they paid you to be rid of me, I hope they gave it to you up front. I'm going back to Nerima as soon as possible. Would you be so kind as to tell me where my glasses have been placed? I won't bother you anymore after I have them."
Paid!? Wufei wasn't sure whether he was insulted or intrigued and he frowned in the darkness of the room, silvery thin sheen of a hangnail moon giving what little light came tumbling into the room and highlighting that slender shivering frame with its flowing black tresses. "You weren't wearing any. It's possible they fell off when you came tumbling out of the sky in the middle of a mobile suit battle but if they did then they're undoubtedly crushed beyond repair now."
Mousse's grey eyes narrowed. "You're having me on, aren't you? Mobile suits! Ha! Children's Saturday morning cartoons. I'm not that stupid, Wufei-whoever-you-are. In fact, I'm not stupid at all aside from my love for Shampoo. Now where are my clothes?"
This conversation was beginning to verge on the bizarre. Saturday morning cartoons for children? Shampoo? "With hair like that I can understand why you love shampoo." {I think,} Wufei decided confusedly. "But the fact remains that we are in the middle of Eurasia seventy miles from the nearest town and the only way out of here is Nataku and my motorbike, neither of which I'm willing to lend you, or give to you, as the case may be. It is cold and wet outside and you might as well come back to bed before that head injury drops you to the ground. In the morning, you may tell me where this Nerima of yours is and I shall return you there myself." {Before I contract whatever maddening disease you obviously have.}
Mousse did not correct Wufei's assumption concerning Shampoo but stood shivering indecisively only steps away from the warmth of the bed. He did not want to get back into the bed; he wanted to take his clothing and return to Nerima, now, tonight. If what Wufei said was true, however, there would be no getting back tonight, and his head did ache abominably. The swimming of his vision intensified and with it came a distinct feeling of nausea. All right, so he probably had a concussion. Well, Ranma had given him worse and he'd kept fighting but somehow he didn't think he wanted to chance that tonight. Wordlessly, he returned to the precise position at which he had left the bed, hand reaching down and pulling the covers up without looking, sliding beneath them, flesh icy.
Wufei could feel this 'Mousse' shivering next to him, quite violently, but he made no move toward him. Even though he was freezing too. It just... wasn't possible for him. It had been one thing when the boy was asleep, but it was another entirely while they were both awake!
And so he lay stiffly, controlling himself enough that his shivering was not as apparent as Mousse's, listening as the other boy's breathing tapered off into the soft, light exhalations of sleep, in spite of the fact that his body was still shaking. His head wound must have been worse than Wufei had thought for him to fall asleep so swiftly.
Wufei was now fully convince that Mousse was nothing from the Federation or OZ. He was completely *insane*, of course, but that in itself was no threat. As long as Wufei stayed on his guard, he would be all right. But he still intended to be shed of this lost one as quickly as possible.
In the morning. After he'd managed to pry the entire story from the boy's crazed mind and babbling lips. Whether he *believed* the story once told was another matter, but he at least wanted to find out what the boy *considered* to be the truth.
Now that Mousse was for certain asleep, it wasn't as much of an internal battle for Wufei to scoot carefully over. This was embarrassing, but they both needed the shared heat.
Long, lean arms reached, and pulled him in tightly, before he could gingerly settle himself closer to Mousse's body. He fought the urge to struggle, only because he knew Mousse was truly moving in his sleep. That didn't make him any less irritated at the boy, but he could hardly protest. Even though he wanted to.
"Hmm...."
Wufei's eyes widened as Mousse's face pressed to the top of his head, and one powerful thigh slid between his. Bakayarou! If he hadn't been asleep....
But he was. And Wufei wasn't going to beat him for motions enacted while unconscious of the world around him.
Though it was certainly tempting....
* * * * *
Mousse nuzzled blearily into the silken hair beneath his nose, thigh rubbing higher between the two that were clamped around one of his own. The dream was wonderful and he wrapped his arms tight around masculine shoulders, pressing his lips to the delicate curve of an ear, almost purring. So real! How incredible that he should dream of Xi'op in his arms after all this time. He had dreamed of him before but it was almost always nightmares of their last parting; the shouted words, the accusations, the wild heated tears that Mousse had sensed despite the fact that he could not see them. He knew, in his sleep, that leaving Xi'op had been the wrong thing and yet in his waking moments his sweet lover with those satiny strands of lustrous black hair and the full mouth that had pleaded so prettily with him, pressing to his warm skin with the sweetest of kisses, disappeared from his thoughts as though Shampoo was a witch that could banish even that amount of light and love allowed into his life before he had cast it aside to follow her to Japan.
What a damned fool love chase that was, his and hers. Saotome was a bastard for playing with the hearts of so many men and women, all of them dancing upon tenterhooks in anxious indecision as they awaited Saotome's every thought and new game. It was frustrating to see a woman as intelligent as Shampoo forced into behaving as though she had not a thought in her brain while attempting to capture a man who was not worthy of her. Of all Saotome's endless procession of brides (and not a few bridegrooms; there had been certain rumors to the effect that Ranma was engaged in licentious activities with Kuno Tatewaki and it was *not* his girl side), Mousse had to admit that the obvious choice for the boy-girl was Akane Tendo. The girl had a penchant for female flesh and so much the better if Saotome provided her with what she desired.
Of course, that would leave Shampoo free once again, despite the fact that he could not claim her as an Amazon male. What he would not give to be an outsider! To be free to gain Shampoo and her heart by such a simple device as defeat would be the most incredible luxury known to man! Unfortunately, he was not an outsider and this meant that he must show all possible obedience and adoration to her at every moment, actions which gave him distinct problems. For one, the accepted form of Amazon male veneration seemed to irritate her more and more as time passed and they learned more of Japanese culture. Mousse did not truly object to this for he hated behaving as though there was no thought but her in his head whenever she was in 'view'. Being forced to hide one's intelligence because one was male chafed and it was difficult for him to maintain that pose.
Secondly, obedience was sometimes onerous as well. He could not force himself to commit acts which went against the grain of what he knew to be right or wrong. Some things, such as attaching a bomb to Saotome's body, were acceptable. Saotome could always get loose from such traps with ease. Using magic or similar tactics against Saotome's other fiancees, on the other hand, was not. Certainly something so simple as instant nanniichuan would be acceptable but memory loss shampoos or the Full Body Cat Tongue were fine examples of taking things too far. Wars of the heart were the same as real wars. They should be fought with honor and dignity or the winning of them meant nothing in the end.
Still, he was wasting wonderful dream time thinking serious thoughts and that simply would not do. With gentle lips, he pressed the softest of kisses against that warm forehead, the skin almost the exact same shade as his own, or so he thought now that he was close enough to see it. Mousse began to flutter feather-soft kisses across that beautiful oval face, his hands holding the other boy's head gently between his palms before he placed his mouth against that of the other and tenderly sucked that full lower lip between his teeth to nibble teasingly, not caring particularly that it was morning or that the warm cavern was vaguely coppery with sleep.
Wufei stirred lazily, caught up in another one of *those* dreams. They were disturbing to him while awake, but when weighted by the bonds of slumber, they always seemed to take a natural course and flow through his mind like the smoothest of silk.
He hadn't even thought of sex since that one night... that night with his-- with... with Nataku. Had tried to wipe the knowledge that such things were possible from his mind. He certainly didn't obsess over it, like so many boys his age seemed to. He had far more important matters filling his thoughts; like staying alive and winning this war!
However, lately, his body and unconscious mind seemed to wish to argue that fact with him. It was bad enough he woke some mornings with a steely erection that took forever to calm, bad enough that he had so little control over both his body and his sleeping thoughts... but the worst part, as far as he was concerned, was that he invariably dreamt of his fellow pilots! And it wasn't even Trowa, whom he knew better than the others -- though this was something of a relief, for if he were to have something like a friend, that would be the tall, quiet, emerald-eyed pilot of Heavyarms -- or Quatre, whose beauty was so close to feminine; though still remaining masculine. No, it was... the other two. One or the other, usually.
Wufei hadn't thought he was attracted to male flesh. He knew that such feelings existed -- Trowa and Quatre were ample proof of that! -- and he had no qualms about accepting such feelings as natural... mostly. But the tricks of his own subconscious thoughts confused him, made him wonder....
When he was awake, that was. Right now he was sound asleep, and in his dreams, warm lips traveled over his face, strong hands touching him, holding him. He kept his eyes closed within his dream, allowing his fingers to "see" for him. This must be Yuy, who assaulted his mouth so sweetly, so forcefully. So his foggy mind told him, until his fingertips danced over broad shoulders to tangle in thick strands of hair falling across the other's chest. Maxwell, then?
Wufei frowned vaguely in his sleep. Dare da...?
Oh well. His slumber-hazed mind told him firmly that it didn't matter. As long as it felt good, nothing mattered but the fire rising within his flesh, warming his core.
Hai. That was what was important.
Mousse's mouth was warm and wet, his tongue invading the opening provided as the other boy parted his lips in a shiver of sound that made him groan softly, delicious baritone brushing vibrations across that soft mouth. His hands fumbled a path down slender arms to lock fingers, tugging both arms above that head to clasp them in a single hand. Those tender kisses continued to rain on warm skin as he leaned to trace the curve of an ear with his tongue, sucking gently at the lobe. The almost inaudible whimper of pleasure was so unlike his noisy Xi'op that he almost chuckled as he continued to give quick nipping bites over the pounding pulse of his jugular, sucking hard enough to bruise as he traced the nerves there. He knew it had to be a dream! There was no way Xi'op wouldn't be groaning and writhing madly beneath him by now!
With care, he brought one hand down to brush over the body beneath his own, cupping a hip and pressing down against the length of the other boy, sliding between thighs that seemed to part by sheer magic as he moaned again, letting loose a waft of moist breath even as he placed a kiss lightly in the hollow of that beautiful sweet caramel throat. His mouth saw for him what he could not, the delicate winging of collar bones, the firm flesh of the cotton-clad chest beneath them making him moan deep in his own. With care, he slid his hand from that hip to shove up the tank still covering his lover, pushing it up under his arms and lifting his head slightly to move down and take a nipple between his teeth. He rolled it expertly between his tongue and the perfect white line of his teeth, fingers walking across that rock-hard belly to circle the warmth of a navel.
Wufei whimpered, the dream-touch tickling even as he wrapped his hands in the long strands of that hair. It felt so good, Maxwell's mouth on his body, and then a sturdy hand wrapped around his erection through the material of his pants and he almost came up off of the bed entirely, he arched so hard into that touch. His stuttered gasp verged on soundless as the hot mouth sucking so sweetly at his nipple took it between teeth and tugged before allowing it to snap loose, hot wet kisses moving across his chest to the mate. The motions were repeated as the elongated flesh wrapped in the soft cotton of minute briefs and the thick sturdy warmth of his pants was grasped and stroked through them, making him almost wretchedly breathless, the sudden tossing of his head back and forth making him flush hot as he gave a little sob, wretched with wanting.
Mousse knelt up, reaching to strip away pants and
underwear and leaving the other boy's tank, sliding between his legs to nip a
heated wet path down to his navel, tongue plunging deep even as he felt the tip
of his lover's
erection press against his chin. Odd, he hadn't thought Xi'op
was so large, certainly not with a girth to match his own rather large member,
but it didn't matter. Dreams were not required to be identical to reality, that
much was certain, and the difference he had noticed with his first touch against
that heated shaft was ignored as he gave hot sucking kisses down that belly to
the stiffness grasped so carefully between dexterous fingers. A sharp nipping
bite at the base and he moved to engulf the heat of that erection, taking it to
the back of his throat in a smooth movement of long-accustomed
practice.
Wufei let out a thin, keening cry, head and shoulders pressing against the pillow as he arched into the unexpected, unfamiliar feeling of heat and wet and tightness. Maxwell had never done anything like this in any dreams before! Nor had Yuy! He had never felt anything like this, awake or asleep; hadn't known anything could feel so good!
His hands fumbled, coordination lost in the haze of sleep and blur of arousal filling his mind, tangling in the sheets and finally finding that long, silken hair, twining through those lovely locks. He sobbed slightly as he writhed beneath that so-good feeling, breath catching in his throat in thick whimpers. Self control, so hard to hang onto already, shattered before this skilled, heated assault, and he gave over willingly to the pure shivers of sensation breaking over his skin, limbs tense and trembling with the force of the passion rising inside him.
The early morning air was chill against his face and shoulders as the covers slipped slightly in response to his squirming, but he barely took note of this fact, and it was not enough to wake him from his dream of heated ecstasy and Maxwell's mouth clasped closely about him. He was already more than half awake, anyway, but unaware of this fact, and unable any longer to distinguish fantasy from reality. He always thought he was awake in his dreams, anyway. Now, it was simply a matter of not thinking -- only experiencing!
Mousse's hands moved beneath him, cupping the firm globes of his ass and kneading the flesh gently. His hands were trembling... so long! It had been so long and the stuttering motions of his lover's hips, the violent trembling beneath his fingers, all led him to believe that he was ready, willing. With quick motions, he removed his mouth from that shaft, nipping his way down to suck at tender orbs of heated flesh, kissing just behind them before nuzzling his way down to the tight orifice that would receive him. With a gentle brush of his tongue, he found it, caressing wetly across the rosebud of the other boy's anus, his hands shaking as he shifted those thighs around his head, shivering as his feet worked loose from the covers at the bottom. What a crazy intense dream-fantasy this was! He could even feel the cold air! Still, it wasn't worth thinking about when the noises he'd so longed to hear were beginning to peal out, sobbing cries as his tongue plunged deep inside with a sudden motion.
With care, the cursed boy wet a finger and withdrew his tongue to replace it with that digit, the strangely musky taste lingering. Still, an Amazon male was not without the ability to please his partners, male or female; the practices were often spurned by such as Ranma Saotome and yet Mu Tsu knew that he could pleasure Shampoo with far more finesse than Ranma could ever dream of possessing, gods forbid a *male*, as evidenced by the raw groans and quick clenching of tight muscles around the finger that had begun to tenderly caress across his lover's delicate prostate. A second digit entered and then a third, stretching that orifice with exquisite attention to detail even as his hand petted the other boy's belly tenderly, his tongue returning to lick a heated path against that swollen erection.
Wufei sobbed for breath, inarticulate sounds breaking unbidden but impossible to restrain from his taut throat. His head moved fitfully against the pillow, eyes scrunched tightly closed, tears leaking from beneath the lids to trickle down the smooth sweep of his cheeks and tickle his earlobes. He clutched at the bedsheets, unable to do anything more than moan and arch at the dual feelings of pain and pleasure racing through his heated body. It hurt to be stretched so, it did! Opened in a manner he had never experienced before, even in imagination. But there was such intense pleasure that came with the pain, unexpected and overwhelming, settled deep inside his body as careful fingers brushed over something within.... And, along with that, the now-familiar feeling of wet-warm caresses moving over his throbbing member.... The doubled pleasure forced its way to the forefront of his attention, pain becoming less immediate, only an underlying sensation, giving bitter-sweet flavor to the force of ecstasy sweeping over him.
He pressed a foot flat to the mattress, lifting his hips upward, crying out as those fingers were pushed deeper by this action, wordlessly asking for what he wanted, needed... even though he wasn't really certain what *that* was, but knowing if he didn't get it soon, he would shatter, explode, that the itch within him must be scratched before he went insane! He twisted, stuttering sobs clenching deep in his chest, wild desire burning him from within. Please, oh, please!!
Impatient, Mousse rose finally, those pleading sobs recognized. With gentle movements, he settled himself between wide-spread thighs, grimacing momentarily because of the lack of lubricant. He wondered if he dreamed about lubricant, would it mysteriously appear? Thoughts in disarray, he decided that it didn't really matter - it was, after all, a dream! And, being a dream, it shouldn't hurt Xi'op if he was careful... A hard kiss later, he spat into his hand and reached between them, stroking saliva over his erection with a hiss of pleasure before nuzzling the head of that thick shaft between the perfect cheeks of the other boy's ass. "Shhhh," he whispered, brushing strands of black hair out of that glowing golden face. The color of it was as exquisite in his fogged mind and blurred eyes as he remembered and he snapped his hips forward with a firm even thrust even as he covered that passionate mouth with his own to capture the cry as he filled the other boy's body, the tight clamp of muscles around him unbearably good and hot and sweet.
Wufei let out a loud shout, the sound muffled under those firm lips, his entire body nearly coming up off the mattress; both reactions more of shock than of pain, it taking several moments before that second sensation actually struck, shattering across his mind and body. Then the mingled pain and pleasure of such unaccustomed stretching, the pressure of being so filled, wrenched a second, louder cry from him.
He was definitely wide awake now! But his mind was clouded with morning forgetfulness, and he was lost in the ripples of crimson fire and golden pleasure that danced a waltz over his skin, heat burning in his middle, both of the most intense ecstasy he had ever felt, and the wild agony from being opened, penetrated.... He had no idea who was doing this thing to him, but by now, he didn't care!
He squirmed beneath the feeling, trying desperately to adjust to it, wrapping his arms about broad shoulders, fingers tangling almost violently in long strands of silken hair. He kept his eyes tightly closed, neck arched back. He was somehow almost afraid to see who was above him -- within him -- willing himself back into the fantasy realm of dreams for only a little longer.
Mousse groaned, his mouth traveling over his lover's face, that shout in his ear making him realize that he was on the edge of wakefulness but he could not force himself to care that it was so. Muscles were clamping tightly on his shaft and he trembled, holding still to give them time to adjust as he breathed in Mandarin, "{Be still, beloved. Hold on, it won't hurt for long, you know that as well as I.}" One hand slid between their bodies to stroke the erection there that had flagged ever so slightly, gasping as another tight clench damned near drove him over the edge.
Wufei shook wildly, still completely lost in the shivering waves of pleasure and pain ripping through his body, but grounded slightly by the feeling of warm, smooth flesh over firm muscles that remained solid and unshifting beneath his fingertips, and greatly calmed by the language of his childhood breathing in his ear. He barely processed the words themselves, wasn't sure whether he believed them, but all this irregardless, it soothed his fevered mind to hear them spoken in a manner that touched his deepest self, went somewhere inside his soul that not much else could reach. He gasped for breath and struggled to follow the instructions, holding on, waiting for the pain to pass.
Mousse withdrew gently and thrust back, his free hand going to stroke the face beneath his own, the face he could not see, mouth soft and sweet upon those lips. His tongue traced the lower one and slid inside, ravishing with tongue and nibbling teeth, pearl-grey eyes partially open. Even with his vision problems, he could make out the high flush of color on that face as he moved, hips gaining a rhythm matched by his hand as he drove into that tight aperture. He shook as he shifted onto his knees to lift those hips with his hands, forcing his entrance more deeply even as he brushed against the inner wall, a purring growl breaking from his throat.
Wufei tossed his head back recklessly against the pillow, sound trapped within his body, unable to escape his taut throat, his chest aching with the swell of the loud cry it could not bring forth. It was all he could do to keep breathing, respiration coming in quick, choking pants, heat shimmering through his entire body until he felt as though he would burst into flames at any moment. Sharp-salt tears broke free of black lashes and streamed down his face, mingling with the thick sheen of sweat covering his flushed face. Oh, sweet gods....
"Shhh... shhhh!" Mousse murmured as he placed one hand against the other boy's belly, feeling the quick jerking brought on by the movements of his diaphragm. the fingertips of his other hand moved to wrap around the thick erection bobbing between their bodies, stroking the salt-wet tip with each stroke of his hand and groaning loudly. Gods! He couldn't remember anything ever being so deliciously tight or hot, not even the first time he'd taken his former lover, and all he could do now was gasp in amazement and drive inside, the head of his cock ramming across Wufei's prostate with each and every thrust. His lip was bitten tightly, head dropped back so that his hair tickled the backs of his thighs just below where his boxers were bunched from his lack of patience, his desire to get them far enough off of his body that he could take the wonderful squirming boy beneath him.
Wufei bowed upward, curling into each thrust, one leg wrapping as closely about that slim waist as the awkward angle and stuttering motions of both young bodies would allow. His other knee rose to press against one powerful shoulderblade, silken hair tangling under his thigh and tumbling about his calf as he attempted to move even more tightly against that hard shaft plunging so relentlessly into his body. Silver and gold flashes were bursting against the darkness contained behind his eyelids, echoing the impossible intense flares of pleasure breaking through his body. The feeling of fire and stretching and something pressing deep and hard, of a powerful palm stroking his manhood, strong fingers fondling the over-sensitized flesh... golden fountaining of pure ecstasy rolled through him in rich waves, each stronger than the one before, each one driving him closer to the brink, that release that he instinctively sought; the culmination, the end to this sweet torment, the only thing within his shattered thoughts at this moment in time.
A grunt echoed as black hair was tugged under a knee but it didn't really matter to Mousse as he raised the hand that had been stroking the warm belly to clutch it tight, allowing the other boy that much more purchase even as he began to rock in deep impossibly hard rhythm, grunting with each thrust. The fingers of his opposite hand continued working their magic as he groaned loudly, pleadingly, "{Come on, sweet one. Come for me, come for me....}" He knew, knew, that it wasn't a dream anymore, had probably half-known all along that he was actually doing this, just as he knew when he woke sleepwalking or making ramen in the middle of the night but it no more mattered to him now than it ever had or could because it felt too good and his mind couldn't seem to grasp the implications of the act. No, all he could do was thrust harder into that heat and gasp for breath, the pleasure of it echoing up his spine with each movement, each clench.
So close... so close.... Wufei clutched at the bedsheets, his entire body tightening as he teetered impossibly, frustratingly on the verge... then pulling taut as he broke through. He arched, a soundless shout breaking from him as his world exploded in a rush of sheer stimulation. His vision filled with white light, his other senses overwhelmed in this flash, every shiver of sensation felt so far this morning resurging and condensing into one instant. It was not so much a fire that burned him, as a void that swallowed him whole, taking away all that he was and giving him all of existence in return, before spitting him out the other side, replete, every ounce of tension draining from his body, like violent floodwaters flowing through him, leaving warmth and soft tingles in its wake.
The sharp clenching of muscles around his shaft and the rapid spill of strings of semen across his hand made him shudder violently, those slate-grey eyes closing tightly as he continued to shove into that trembling body for long seconds before he followed, slamming to the absolute depth as he dropped across the other boy, trembling violently, breath caught in his throat with the sheer force of his orgasm. It trembled down spine and nerve-endings, making him shudder even as he gathered that unresisting body close against his own. For forever, no time at all, he stroked shaking hands across the face beneath his own, 'learning' the feel of it, stroking strands of silken hair away from it. His mind was without thought, only feeling the utterly delightful clench of muscles still tight around his shaft and so he withdrew to the sound of soft protest; probably pained protest, which made him wince.
There was a certain sadness in him now. It was not Xi'op and he was stupid to have thought so. The unbearable pain of regret filled him -- not regret because he was sorrowful of what he had done, precisely, for the body beneath him was precious and responded beautifully to his every touch, to each of his whims. No, the regret was simply because he had not been coherent; he didn't even know if the other boy was willing, and he spread sweet kisses across that face for long moments in apology, saying nothing, simply keeping the firm line of an exquisitely tiny body pressed against his own. The boy was even smaller than Shampoo! It was a miracle Mousse hadn't damaged him!! That thought sent tremors of pure fear down long limbs and he clutched the boy tightly. He could have hurt him!
Wufei frowned vaguely against the warm, sweat-damp flesh of the broad chest he was pressed against. His thoughts were strangely lethargic and fuzzed, and he couldn't focus; didn't think he wanted to focus on anything outside his skin. He was tired. He ached, but somehow it didn't feel so bad. Not yet. The after-effect to the pleasure that had wracked him just recently still whispered within him, and as long as he didn't move, he wasn't too uncomfortable.
Somehow he thought he ought to be feeling very, very upset right now....
But it was easier, more pleasant, to just lie here, cradled closely in a pair of strong arms, sheltered by a large body, heated flesh to heated flesh, the covers -- which had slipped almost all the way off during... events -- pulled to settle over them both by one gentle movement of the other. He wasn't going to think about who this was. He wasn't going to think about what had just happened. Not yet. He just wasn't going to think.
It was easier not to think.
Mousse gently rolled onto his back, pulling the other boy's body with him. The previous night was a blur; in fact, a great deal of the past day or so was absolutely incomprehensible to him. His head still ached from the blow dealt him by Shampoo and he shivered, stroking his hands down the warm arms and back of the slender frame pressed so closely against him.
Shampoo.
That was something best left unthought of for the moment. It tortured him, somehow, that it was so easy to be unfaithful to her; so easy to clasp this male body against his own and know that it excited him far more than she ever could have.
With a regretful sigh, he continued gently stroking up and down between the shoulderblades, massaging gently against the tender back of the neck. How to apologize for an act one was not even fully aware of having committed until it was far too late to stop? He didn't know, really, although he should know by now, surely, considering his sleep-walking (and talking and eating and cooking) habit.
Wufei stirred, hovering on the verge of falling asleep. He was exhausted, drained, without even the wish for a return to tension in his mind, seemingly without the ability in his limbs. His every muscle was lax, his body limp, and the large hand rubbing his back wasn't helping him gain any coherency.
Gods... he didn't want to move. Didn't want to leave this warmth and comfort. Human contact had always made him distinctly uncomfortable before, but this somehow felt... right. As though he belonged here, pressed closely to this powerful body.