DISCLAIMER - Don't own, or make any money from any of this!
A/N - Inspired by and somewhat based on song by Christina Aguilera.
WARNINGS - 1x2, cussing, slight 3x4
He got those lips like sugar cane
Good things come for boys who wait
He's a one stop shop, makes the panties drop
He's a sweet-talkin', sugar coated candy man
He's a one stop shop, makes my cherry pop
He's a sweet-talkin', sugar coated candy man
He's a one stop shop with a real big
He's a sweet-talkin', sugar coated candyman
-Christina Aguilera 'Candyman'
The door closes and I don't know where to begin to start explaining how we ended up here. It was like we always knew without knowing that this would happen. His body presses against mine furiously and his lips find mine effortlessly.
It's Friday night, and I walk into the restaurant quietly, vaguely gazing at the basket of mints on the front desk, hoping no one will recognize an Ex Gundam pilot. Slinking to my table, following the waiter, I'm sure to keep my eyes down. When seated I immediately take up the menu and use all my concentration to keep my face hidden. It's not a fancy place but I still tried to look nice. It was, after all, the first time in six years that I would be seeing him. Quatre warned me about being in public, but my arrogant ass didn't listen.
"He's a one stop shop Heero." What the hell was that supposed to mean? "He's a sweet talking, sugar coated candy man." He tried to explain. How was I supposed to know he meant that literally?
My pants dropped without my ever knowing how, as did he. He was tight in my arms one second and now he was on his knees in front of me.
I only waited about ten minutes before I heard it: a crowd of people outside screaming and yelling. I peered around the side of my menu towards the commotion and my jaw literally hit the table. There he was, still in the lobby of the restaurant, about thirty people piling around him, girls hanging off his arms. His tattooed arms. He wore a very tight black sleeveless shirt that barely hit the top of his low slung, again very tight, black jeans over black motorcycle boots. I could just see the top of some bright red briefs under his jeans. I swallowed, hard.
His mouth wraps around my erection and my hands slam back against the door. Using the door as leverage, I push into his mouth and he takes it slamming his hands to my hips, helping me along in the fucking of his mouth.
I watched his body bounce as he laughed and politely swept the girls off his arms. My mouth suddenly dry, I reached for the glass of water on the table. So this is what Quatre meant. He was no longer a goofy little kid. Hell no he wasn't. I brought the glass to my mouth, face still half covered by the menu, and took a sip.
"Damn!" I hear his voice and nearly inhale the water. Spitting up and coughing, I look back over to where he was being crowded and inhale the spit up water all over again. He's seen me, and is grinning towards me, leading the other onlookers to follow his gaze. Still coughing, I slide down in my seat, behind my menu that I realize, I haven't really looked at yet.
"Fuck! That's good!" I gasp as I pump into his mouth. He nods, causing my cock to jump and hums up and down my length in agreement.
"Well, look who it is!" He yells over the crowd. "Fucking Heero Yuy!" Damn. Cover blown. I let the menu flop down and straighten up in my chair. My eyes come in contact with his form bouncing over. Not the goofy kid bounce that he used to have but a new bounce reeking of sexual confidence. He's got his own rhythm, one that no one else can hear, while he walks over to the table I'm currently occupying. I watch as his hips sway, not side to side like a girls, but front and back, like he fucks the air every time he moves.
Hoping that I can manage to actually drench my mouth, I reach for the glass again. The girls around him have pens out and breasts presented asking for autographs. Without missing a step, and without me missing a very long drink, he took the pens and with a flourish, signed their breasts. An occasional kiss, on the lips I might add, had girls squealing. If he wasn't careful, we were going to be kicked out.
My toes curled and I chanced a look down. He was on spread knees, one hand had it's fingertips on the ground, helping him keep balance; his other hand was wrapped around the base of my erection. This wasn't going to last long.
There were even men around him, uncharacteristically holding out business cards and pocket planners for numbers, emails and autographs. I watched as he took the numbers and emails and signed his autograph with a wink and still occasional kiss. Sexual confidence was right. I could smell it. I slowly stood and heard gasps as our audience recognized me. My name came out as gasps waving around the crowd.
"Da-yamn!" He says as he walks up to me. He's now standing only about three feet in front of me. I take a deep breath and realize that I really can smell him. It's sweet. I can't help but put my hand out for a handshake. He takes it, never taking his eyes off of me, and I find that I can't even begin to think about taking my eyes off of him. His hand pulls on mine, pulling me closer, chest to chest, and he brings his lips to my ear.
"How about blowin' this taco stand?" And he pushes me back away. My face must be the funniest thing ever. He chuckles a little, leaning his weight to one hip that bounces to the song no one can hear as he waits for my answer.
Two can play this game. I tilt the corners of my mouth up in what I hope is as confident a smile as he has right now. "Let's go."
He must've known I was close because he backed off. "Don't stop!" I gasp, nails digging into the door behind me. "Are you kidding me? My turn." He says gently.
I dig out some bucks and leave them on the table for all the trouble we caused. He had already started to make for the lobby. I follow closely behind and watch as he reaches into the basket by the front desk, picks out a mint candy and tosses it into the air a few times before he shoves it into his pocket. The crowd is asking where we're going and he answers that we're hitting a club downtown called 'The Spider.' I have a funny feeling that most of them are going to follow us.
I found out quickly the reason behind his motorcycle boots. He rode one here; a motorcycle. I watched as he walked up to it, took one of the helmets off and threw it to me before grabbing the other and sliding it over his head. He grabbed hold of the handles, kicked the kick stand up and swung his leg over the machine straddling it. His head turned my way and I could see a glint of his eyes behind the wind shield of his helmet. I didn't question it, just slid my helmet over my head and followed suit to a straddle behind him. I didn't know what to do with my hands but as he took off on the black death machine, I hooked one arms around his middle and leaned back on the other behind my butt.
He wasn't as crazy a driver as I imagined him to be, but I could feel him laugh as my arm tightened around a few corners.
I get the hint and kneel in front of him as he fumbles for something in his pocket before he unzips and drops his pants.
I realized quickly that our presence at 'The Spider' was well known news because upon arrival, hoards of people were waiting outside. He rolled us into a parking spot, turned off the beast and pulled his helmet off. Again I followed suit and pulled off the helmet. His hand landed on my knee as he twisted to peel himself off the seat. I could vaguely comprehend the flashes of camera's around us.
For the war being so far in the past, we Gundam Pilots were still very popular. Most of us were at the forefront of society, Wufei and me being lieutenants for Preventers and "two of the sexiest men alive" as some magazines have put it. Quatre kept up Winner Enterprises, and was sought after for the riches he had. Trowa stayed close to Quetra, choosing to be in the background as much as possible, although their relationship had exploded into pop culture not three years ago. The man who leaned up against the bike posing for pictures had taken to doing anything he damn well pleased. He worked with that Hilde girl for a while before getting restless and travelling. I've heard stories (and seen pictures) of his go at modeling. I heard, without the added pleasure of pictures, of his exotic dancing days. He had sent a few pictures to the gang about his mechanics training. Overall, he was the most sought after for pictures topping the list as the 'sexiest man alive."
I scrambled a little less gracefully off the bike, and he hooked a finger into one of my belt loops and pulled me along as we made for the entrance, cameras flashing.
Holy hell he was huge! I don't know whether to be afraid or embarrassed. I lean in and stop, a thought occurring to me. "Won't you need the wall for support?"
We made it in the club easily, being 'celebrities' and all. The first thing he did was make a beeline to the bar, ordering us both something I didn't quite hear. Before it was handed to us, he told the bartender we would be back. I realized why suddenly when a really kinky sounding song started playing. He wanted to dance. His finger still in my belt loop, he dragged me with him onto the floor before letting go and twirling, thrusting his hips into mine. His hands threw up and fell on my shoulders, thrusting into me with the beat of the song.
I will admit to discovering I was actually a pretty good dancer the first time I went clubbing. I guess being agile and aware of your body made dancing all that easier. I rocked my hips front and threw my shoulders into our thrusting. I really wasn't all that aware of the numerous people around us clicking away with their cameras. My dance partner turned with the beat, his back against mine, my crotch rubbing in between his cheeks. He reached up and back for my neck before swiveling his hips and lowering to the ground, his hands splaying over my body.
"Fuck the wall." He says, peeling his shirt off. I put my mouth to his tip and take a nice long lick. "Not literally." He adds sarcastically. I almost laugh realizing that this really was the same him I knew back during the war.
At one point he ended up behind me and breathed into my ear, reminding me about the drinks. We made our way off the dance floor and towards the drinks. Champagne. He ordered champagne. I drank it all in one go, causing his eyes to widen, and ordered Tequila. I got it quickly and drank it just as quickly. He just smiled wickedly over his champagne glass.
We had about thirty dances before I had another drink. We were both sweaty and a little more than exhausted. I wasn't drunk, but I was feeling a little more tingly than usual. I knew he wasn't choosing to drink water after he had finished his initial glass of champagne.
I straddled the bar stool and faced the dance floor. His hand swiveled into my view with another tequila shot. I took it but before I could drink it, he leaned in between my legs, hands on my knees, took the glass between his lips and arched to allow the drink to spill over into his mouth. He lifted his arms from my knees and took them past me onto the counter, his face getting incredibly close. His eyebrow arched at the expectant smirk on my face before he leaned in and placed his lips on mine.
I sucked him off until be bowed over my head for support, hands pulling at my hair. "S-stop!" He gasped. I pulled back one last time, him still leaning over me. I moved my head to the left of his hip and pushed up from the ground, him thrown over my shoulder.
I let him kiss me in the middle of everyone, sure that everyone had seen and vaguely aware of the random flashes of light that had nothing to do with the club. Our mouths parted simultaneously and I felt warm liquid flow into my mouth. I swallowed as it burned, remembering it was the tequila. I reached my hands forward and gripped around his butt pulling his hips towards me. The kiss broke. My hands slid to the front loops of his pants and I tugged down slightly while looking up at him with as much lust as I could muster in my eyes.
He looked down at me and covered my hands with his own. "Missed you 'Ro." He spoke before pulling me up by my wrists. Some people around us followed us out of the club where there were a myriad of 'fans' outside waiting for a moment to meet us. I saw some video cameras and photographers. My puller smiled pleasantly at them all and said, "Sorry guys. We've got somewhere very important to be!" And he pulled me harder into a run for the bike. He got there first and tossed the helmet to me. We slid them on at the same time and he did his kicking maneuver to swing his leg onto the bike. I jumped on behind him, this time reaching down to his hips for a grip. The bike started and I lifted one hand and flipped off the paparazzi before we flew off.
He lifted up so he was straddling my chest as I held him by his butt. From my angle I could easily see his tattooed arms. There was a black and white grim reaper with bright violet eyes on his right arm. Fire surrounded it taking up his whole upper arm. On his left there were what looked like all five Gundams. He had a cross on his forearm and several other 'just for looks' tattoos in other not so important areas. The tattoo I liked most though were the blue eyes right on the middle of his chest. I looked up at him teasingly and he reached around and found my shaft in return.
We raced through the streets and at one point I pushed my hand into the front of his pants. We swiveled so hard then that I seriously worried about dying. It didn't faze me though and I wrapped my fingers around his shaft, a miraculous feat in itself because of how tight his pants were. We swiveled several more times as he took the most out of the way path to ensure that we weren't being followed or filmed as I jerked him off.
He stopped in an alleyway and wrenched my hand off of him so forcefully I thought he was mad, as he stood and swung his leg over the bike before rounding on me.
"Good things come to boys who wait." He teased pressing into me, almost toppling me over the bike. He kissed me quickly before swinging his leg back over and starting the bike. "Which way to your place?" He asked. We made it there without swiveling anymore or being chased. He parked and pulled me off the bike pulled off my helmet and his before he pulled me up the walkway to my condo. He liked to pull.
His hand wrapped around me once again as I carried him to my room. I thought he was just jerking me off but he started wiggled a little to raise himself before I felt the tip of my cock slip into something warm.
"Shit!" I almost dropped him, wondering how in the hell he was able to do what he was doing. He lowered himself onto my cock, no prep, no lube, and started fucking me as I carried him into my room.
It was a very good thing that my room was close by then because I don't think I could've walked anymore with him impaling himself on my cock. I threw him onto my bed, me still in him. He wrapped his arms around my neck hard and I heard something crinkle. I didn't have time to think about it though as his grip lessened and his mouth found mine in another incredible kiss.
Mint. He tasted like mint and as he pushed the damn little candy into my mouth with his tongue I remembered him picking it up on his way out of the restaurant.
I feel my release coming all too soon and reach between us to let him have his.
"D-Duo!!" I moan, the little mint still in my mouth.
"I warned you didn't I?" Quatre's voice sounded over the phone.
"Yes. You did." I said looking at the front page of the newspaper. There was an article named 'Tarzan and Jane swinging on a vine!" with a picture of me on Duo's bike as Duo leaned in grabbing my belt loops. Quatre made a noise that told me that he didn't expect me to admit that he was right.
"Well. Then, don't come crying to me when Une yells at you for damaging the company's, and your own, reputation." He hung up as did I.
A small pop sounded and I looked to find Duo sitting at the bar of my kitchen sucking on a cherry flavored sucker. I strode toward him.
"Good things come to boys who," I pulled the sucker out of his hand, "wait." Sticking the sucker in my mouth, I walked towards my room. When I glanced back, Duo had another sucker in his mouth, following me.