"Never End"

By: Princess Sassafras

Warning: This fan work contains heavy adult material. Also, it's not everyone's piece of pie…so don't read it if you're not into threesomes. Its purpose is to put the reader (female) in a personal/sexual relationship with two adult males (in this case, my two favorite Gundam Wing characters).YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

-------------------------------

It's kept my mind all locked down like grit in gears…the feeling. I stop to think on it, and suddenly I can't think. And then when I least want it to, it takes memories and makes them slide in and out so easily…mixing imaginary touch with laundry and the smells of hair and breath.

I buried my face in his dark red shirt. It smelled of bike exhaust, his must, and cigarette smoke. Marlboro Menthols. There was an oil stain near the collar and a rip near the bottom. But it was never discarded; it was kept until it hung off his shoulders in mere threads.

Well-worn, personal, brazenly individual, unapologetically raw…

His thick auburn hair thrills me strangely, the knotty, tangled mass of it begging to be undone—blazing wires fight the binding braid, aching to assume their naturally wild position. Just like his hair, his very body seems to fight his clothing, seems to want to escape it violently—but not unkindly—as if clothes are there for the purpose of boasting removal. Deep eyes and Cheshire smile say they would come off in a second, if only I wanted them to.

But all the times I've wanted it in my mind, scraped the thoughts raw—and still he remains, guarded and tantalizing, close enough to touch you with his heat, but far enough away to avoid any return touch.

He sits here now. Ten feet away and completely unaware of the mischief my mind is creating for him. If I extend my voice to him, he will instantly become the kind of friend I need and have always needed; he never ceases to keep me from becoming too serious. Something quick and lighthearted will be his response to anything I might say, something safe like bumping shoulders with a best friend on the sidewalk on the way out to lunch.

Men shuffle in, and two of them I know. Wufei moves toward the second floor corridor immersed in a blue file, and… Quatre shifts slowly, scanning the room. When he sees me, his eyes grow warm and a familiar sweet smile touches his lips. Hello, they say. It's always good to see you.

Hello, say my eyes, I can never get enough of you. But I still don't think he's ever heard them.

When he looks at Duo sitting in the swivel chair, chewing hard on a pen and with one black boot steering by means of the tabletop, those eyes are momentarily inscrutable.

What are you thinking? You're so lovely. My mind resumes its constant rhapsody of his face. Blue eyes and blonde lashes as heavy as his hair, as visible as if they'd been frosted, have never stopped capturing me, enthralling me. When he blinks and the corners of his eyes lift in a smile, I feel a place in my chest tear open oh so slowly. It's not like the fast, hot emotions I feel when I'm near Duo. Being near Quatre pulls and stretches me slowly, like being rocked by a wave. Being near him is sometimes like being barely awake or half dreaming.

I had thought myself incapable of pursuing him, mostly due to he and Trowa's unfaltering connection to each other post-war. Quatre was the easiest to want, he being the closest to me during our wartime. I thought surely they—Trowa and the ever-evasive object of my desire—were together, or at least contemplating the option, but no.

He sweeps his hand through his hair, a much more self-conscious than gloating gesture. He keeps looking at me and then looking back at Duo as he approaches. This makes me wonder…always made me wonder. There was the time he walked in on us when "we" were doing laundry…Duo's lucky shirt (the one I love to smell when no one's looking) was clutched in my left hand, my right was on Duo's bare chest. I had been pushing him backwards playfully, as he had demanded his shirt barbarian style…but, well, he grabbed my wrist to stop me. Enter Quatre, sweaty from track and expecting no one in the laundry room at 11:45 p.m. He had obviously been deep in thought, because he didn't even notice we were there until he was four feet away.

I guess the sight of us half-clothed, the smell of Duo freshly showered (which is a nice smell), and the added sight of my hand on Duo's left pectoral was unsettling, though at the time I couldn't fathom why. There I was, minding my own business, sniffing men's shirts, when I was accosted in succession by the two men I most wanted to…fuck.

Things were a little funny for a couple of days…I mean, mostly on Quatre's part. His unease dampens the ardent fantasies that I continually attempt to wish into life. It's the same with Duo's…blocking. Each of us feels the other's awareness, but is unwilling to act upon it. It's quite maddening. Just as I shift forward, someone shifts away. Or vice versa. It's as if I can't make up my mind. Do I want each of them separately, or…? But the magic is in their presence…here, together, with me. Is this healthy?

I want to grab them both by their belt loops and drag them into the heavily barred staff closet. I want to kiss Quatre's soft mouth and feel Duo's thick, coarse hair blanketing my shoulders and his hot breath in my ear, meaning nothing. I want…

"Do you want an early lunch break?"

In the few moments—or what I had thought were but a few—I had daydreamed, Quatre had made a query to Duo and he had risen in response. They were now directing their attention towards me.

"Hm?" I attempt to appear perky, forcing my eyelids to draw back from their previously hooded position.

"We're going over to Kelsie's around the corner. We might get a patio seat at this hour." Duo stretches and yawns. "I'm getting sick of Office Space anyhow."

Quatre nods mutely, and begins gathering his laptop and papers into the leather shoulder bag perched on the table. "I'm in the mood for soup," he says quietly, and Duo grins.

"They have the best soups and chowders in the universe!" He grabs Quatre's elbow. "Let's go…babe?"

"I'm coming…hang on a sec," I say. I begin fishing for my pocketbook and stuff it in my purse.

"Yeah right, honey, I'm paying today!" He grins and motions for us to follow him out into the hall and down the spiral steps to the lobby, and then out onto the street.

I guess you think I'm going to go into detail on our "eating outing." I'm not really in the mood. I will, however, switch tense, as this one is increasingly awkward.

In brief, Quatre and I ordered chowder and Duo ordered some sort of Mexican relish soup. The sky was beautiful, even though it was gray. The wind was chill, and we had to pay our ticket and run when the rain started to come down. Big fat drops, soaking us near to the bone. Duo threw his brown trench over our heads like a cape but it did little good. Quatre's long sleeved polo was sticking to his body, and my hands were like ice. When we arrived Shelly (the receptionist) told us that Boss-man said we could hightail it home. It had been a slow day and we had a good excuse in appearance.

Tired and wet, but glad to be away from the bleak office building, we piled into the cold truck and headed for the west side of town.

"It'll be good to get home!" said Quatre, sounding relieved through his chattering teeth. Duo looked across, his dark brow pinched momentarily in mild concern.

"Your lips are blue, Cat." He reached out a hand across the seat back and covered Quatre's quivering lips.

"Your hands are warm," Quatre said softly, but withdrew his face from the offered cup of Duo's hand. I saw his cheeks flush through the cold. I felt an answering flush creep up through my belly. The road seemed longer than I was used to.

"We're here." Duo said finally, almost reverently. He put the truck in park and we ran out and through the rain again, and climbed up under the protective ledge of the front porch.

The house was dark and empty. Even the windows were out like candles. The door latch was cold when I followed them in. Quatre ran in first and turned the hall light on. We were instantly warmer, and I felt myself smile at the looks of relief on their faces. We left our socks and shoes at the doormat and Quatre and I crept up the staircase barefoot. Duo went into the kitchen to make hot tea. I fell onto my bed upstairs, pulling the thick comforter over my feet and legs, while Quatre stood in the doorway quietly.

He had his hands in the band of his sweatpants (which he'd pulled on hurriedly after tossing his wet khakis and polo in the hamper). His bare shoulders were stooped and his head was bowed. He kept tensing and untensing his eyebrows, and his lips were tight. That he looked pensive would have been an understatement.

"Baby Boy," I began to play, "Come get in this big warm cocoon with me."

He smiled suddenly, showing his pretty teeth, and his brow untwisted from its knot. "There's not enough room." But I saw the gentle teasing in his blue eyes.

"In this?" Teasing back, I held up the miles of soft dark blue fabric. "Of course not!"

He walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, his blonde curls hanging gently over his eyes, which were looking back into whatever world he'd been in before I broke him out of it. His hands, clutching the dark blue, looked paler and slenderer than most men's, but the square shape of his finger pads and the slightly more protrusive veins in his forearms betrayed the hormone testosterone. I wanted to run my fingers up the arm nearest me, to touch the wrist, the elbow, and then the soft curve of his bicep. I looked up.

"What?" I asked, searching his pale and troubled face. He looked far away, and it bothered me a little. "What is it?"

When he did not answer, I sat up. There were few secrets between us. Manipulative parents and broken relationships…all had been shared. But joy is more vital than pain. I felt something in the way his mouth was set. He seemed more perplexed than sad, and my heart skipped suddenly in a wash of hope. Irrational, maybe, but I couldn't help myself: what was he thinking?

"I was just thinking," he said softly as if answering my silent question, "about that other day that we got caught in the rain."

"I remember," I said fondly. "We tried to fit ourselves under a narrow shop-ledge, and the owner kept glaring at us through the window. He was a little oriental man. He wasn't very attractive."

"Do you remember," he said quietly, the touch of a smile on his lips fading as quickly as it had come, "do you remember how we slid sideways into the covered alleyway, and huddled there shivering? How we talked until the rain stopped?"

"Yes," I almost whispered. I was wondering, I was hoping past hope.

He looked into my eyes suddenly, direct and sharp and sad; my greatest fear. "Why don't we talk like that anymore?" His voice caught wetly in his throat and he turned his face as if trying to stopper it. My chest felt broken. Oh my sweet Quatre.

"I don't know," I said. "That time was almost…well, it was almost stolen. We're so—"

"Busy…now."

I nodded, but he didn't see it. I felt the sudden to desire to make him realize I was there. He was hunched and turned away. I wanted him open and looking at me, just looking, like he had when he had asked me why. I found my hand lifting itself and placing itself gently on his bowed back. He jerked as if I'd burned him.

When he turned I finally saw the sheer willpower being exerted over his countenance. He didn't want to be open because it hurt. And shit, did I ever understand.

I wanted so much at that moment that it was overwhelming. I couldn't let my hands leave him. I ran the hand that had been on his back over his bare shoulder. Trapped wholly in the moment I began touching his face with my other hand, blindly running my fingers over his cheeks and brow, while, to my amazement, he closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. Even though it was a powerful thing—this right that I was being given to touch him how I wanted—I felt like I was being very brave when I touched his lips, but his mouth parted and I felt his warm breath run through my fingertips. I touched his closed eyelids, I touched his curls and I caressed the skin behind his ears, making smoothing motions over the ringlets there…as I often had when putting him to sleep.

He put his hand suddenly over mine and opened his eyes. They were hooded and intense, like I knew mine were, and so blue. Just once I wanted—

I turned at a sudden movement in the doorway. Duo stood framed there, his damp hair draped over a towel on his shoulder, a mug of hot tea in each hand and a third held between the crook of his elbow and his chest. It was his turn to be shocked, having walked in on something potentially intimate. Something already intensely intimate.

His arm bearing the loose mug shifted slightly, and some of the hot liquid sloshed onto his stomach. He let out a soft, albeit vehement, expletive and dropped the mug. I was up before I could stop myself, my hand leaving Quatre and reaching out to grab the falling mug. Smart girl that I am, I caught the mug while allowing nearly the full remainder of steaming liquid to slosh over my wrist, scalding me. Duo was on his knees in front of me in a split second, the shocked look on his face now mixed with but not replaced by a look of concern. "Shit," he said. "Shit." The two mugs were on the floor and his hands were over my throbbing wrist. I was tired of all this, already. I think the burn made the rest of my reactions, or senses, burst alive, because I felt a fierce need to touch him too, to clutch at something. So I clutched at the hand that was fluttering over the burned part of my own. "Leave it," I said. I realized at that moment that my voice was not my own. I sounded breathless, incredibly husky. He looked into my eyes, shocked. Then his gaze turned to searching, frantically looking for something.

"Are you…"? He had probably meant to ask if I was okay, but his voice caught somewhere in the back of his throat, and he trailed off, still staring.

I went insane. That's my only excuse. As I reached out my uninjured hand to touch his face, I heard a sharp intake of breath behind me. I turned to see Quatre with his knotted brow in his white knuckled hand. He was hunched over again, his arm over his stomach. Empathy washed over me; this moment was overwhelming to him; this allowance of emotion was snowballing, becoming something unexpectedly intense and real. Wrong?

"Cat?" Duo rasped out dazedly. He rose on watery legs, nearly tripping over one of the mugs with his bare feet. I retrieved it blindly and put it on a chair by the doorway.

"Quatre?" I watched as Duo placed a tentative hand on Quatre's shoulder, and Quatre looked up at him with pure amazement in his cornflower eyes. I don't know why it was so amazing, that touch. They had wrestled, shoved playfully, tugged hair, and slapped butts with towels for fuck's sake! Why was this, this simple touch on a shoulder, so potent? It didn't really matter though, because it was, and I could see their eyes lock in realization. The touching had become different at some point in time unknown to us. Or maybe we were just wising up. It didn't matter which.

I could see Duo's eyes darken, could see him leaning down, running his hand almost desperately up the back of Quatre's neck to cup the base of his skull. I felt my body ignite, felt the burning take me. I could hardly see, could hardly breathe. The kiss was blurred to me, but unbearably hot. I heard Quatre make a sound like a whimper and Duo make some guttural noise deep in his throat. My body was propelled forward against its will. But once I was there, just standing there next to my two best friends locked together by their mouths, I had no idea what to do next. For a split second I felt like an intruder. But I banished this instantly; it had been barely minutes before that Quatre and I were being intimate, and Duo had had the opportunity to feel like the intruder. But none of us really were. We were all there, and wanting to be there, together.

I felt more than heard their lips separate slowly, clingingly. Duo was staring at Quatre's mouth as if in shock, but Quatre turned his glazed and smoldering eyes on me, and I finally did what I had been wanting to do for so long: I let myself be taken in, let myself fall forward and kiss his soft and parted mouth with a long-caged passion. I felt his hand on my cheek, tracing from my ear to where our mouths met. Our kiss was turning desperate, my tongue stretching wildly in an attempt to touch—to feel—every part of his warm mouth, when I felt a hand tangling in my hair. Anyone who knows me personally knows that I become instantly weaker when someone starts touching anything near my scalp. Duo knew this, and as he tugged and tangled his hand deeper in, my mouth separated from Quatre's, and for a few moments we were only breathing each other's moist air. I was beginning to wonder if this trouble I was having in the area of vision would be a constant result of being in their presence. All I could see was the blurred outline of Quatre's honey-frosted eyelashes laid out on his cheeks. So pretty…

I was being tugged backwards, almost viciously. All at once Duo's thick arms were tight around me, his heart was beating a hole in my back, and his hair was falling around me. "Is this…" his rasped, "what you really want?"

He seemed to be talking to Quatre as well as me. I could see my dear heart's face tighten slightly for a moment before his eyes turned up at us again, and his look of assent and desire was enough answer. "Yes," I answered, sounding breathless. "Yes."

Duo was nuzzling my neck now, and I felt like my whole body was buzzing with electricity. I heard him take a long, deep lung-full, smelling my hair, and a feral twitch went through his body. I felt it in me like it was my own. My breasts suddenly felt heavy and swollen. He kneaded them hard, but not hard enough to bruise. He kissed me roughly, sideways, and suddenly my lips could take more. I wanted more.

"Oh God." I was delirious. All of the wanting, the quiet desperation, was spilling out and over me. What was more, I knew I wasn't alone in this feeling; and I couldn't decide whether this was an exciting or frightening thought.

His kisses on my neck were half parted, his breath and the moisture of his tongue slipping past his lips to touch my skin. He trailed his mouth up my cheek to my lips, where he crushed us together, burning. I was twisted around, and felt Duo's thick, hard body press along my front. Then there was another, softer pair of hands caressing my back; I knew it was him. I felt him lay his forehead on my shoulder, and I heard his soft voice whispering. I had no idea what he was saying, or if it even really mattered. Soothing words, maybe, nonsensical and sweet.

Do you know, do you feel it? Oh, please…

"I know, baby. I know…" I wanted to have them all at once, and the visions running through my mind were almost too much for me to contain. I stopped trying to think.

"I want you to…" I whispered, looking up into Duo's frantic eyes. "I want you to kiss him again." And I pushed them onto the bed.

The room blurred dramatically, leaving only bodies.

The one movie-picture memory that has burned itself into my brain is of Duo, his brown back flexing and his thick hair all around them like a curtain, kissing Quatre's sweet mouth. Quatre's white belly arching between them. The breaths they took. They took them all; I couldn't breathe.

Quatre reached for me then. He sighed, and pulled me in. The blue sheets rolled up to ensconce me. They took me between them and surrounded me. The feel of Quatre's body arching under mine the way that it had done only moments ago under Duo's was electric. His white neck, his nipples with the circling of blonde hair and the darker, deeper golden hair trailing temptingly low over his belly. Duo pressing my head down. I don't know what his eyes were saying, but Quatre was staring up into them over my back and he looked…passionately and uncontrollably lost. His skin was so hot under my mouth it could have burned. I wanted to be burned. Duo was taking my clothes off, but so slowly. I never thought…

Quatre was gasping, and I think he said something…strangled but I can't remember for the life of me what it was. His stomach trembled. My chest was bare, and Duo's hands took advantage smoothly but quickly, like he was stealing something sweet. I hadn't been touched like that in a long time. I came to realize that my lips were still, but my hands kept trailing over Quatre's body in long caresses. I wanted him to feel how much I wanted him. His fingers were in my hair, and he was looking at me with that lost expression I've come to tender. Beautiful.

I lowered my mouth again, and moved my hands to take away what was between it and all of that sweet skin. I felt hands other than mine doing it for me, and Duo saying "Oh yes…!"

My lips came in contact with the sweetest, most potent part of Quatre. The scent of him made me crazy. It was like searching for the scent of sweat on the cleanest skin; at first it wasn't there, but it crept up on me, assailing me. I heard him pant and his dick throbbed against my cheek. I was kissing everything I could reach with my lips, but I wanted more. I touched him. I caressed his sac and took him slowly into my mouth…like he was sugar. He melted. Duo's own gladness was clutched between my thighs through my panties. I felt him trail his hand down, ghosting, his fingers slipping underneath and inside the fabric. I felt how wet I was at the same time I tasted Quatre's salt in my mouth. As Duo touched me I tightened my lips, rocking my head. Quatre's panting was maddening, and Duo's fingers were like a tickling. The tickle turned into a throbbing. Everywhere he touched me with his fingers—my clit, my lips, and the soft inner tissue felt suddenly swollen. I moaned around Quatre's dick, and pulled back to taste the salt trickling from his slit. When I looked up I thought I would come. He was biting his own fingers, pink-faced and wanton. His eyes were nearly completely pupiled, black. His tongue was a beckoning at his full lower lip. Duo's hand moved to cup me, his lips trailing my lower back as I climbed what felt like ten thousand miles in two seconds to Quatre's panting mouth. They say you never forget the best of kisses. I can never remember that kiss well enough. When our mouths came together, I felt my vocal chords untie. When I would moan into his mouth, he would return it, arching under me, his wet member tickling that spot between my legs that was begging for more touch.

Something wonderful happened then. Something became more in sync.

As Quatre arched under me—every time he would arch under me, brushing me—Duo's fingers would slip inside and he would rock against my thigh. I felt his teeth on my shoulder, grazing. I felt a sudden urge to see him as I had been seeing Quatre. I reached behind me only to feel myself being rocked backward. He pulled me into the crook of his lap, evading my sideways kisses. I almost yanked his hair in frustration. I felt him grin into my ear, and heard a deep chuckle that was hot but tender. I felt his knees lifting my own, then pressing them apart, then locking them in place. He ripped the hip bands of my panties, and he threw the piece of cloth aside. The air was maddening on my flesh. Quatre kneeled between my legs and kissed me, his hands finding what I so wanted them to find. His lips moved from mine to Duo's and I felt him groan. He was so hard and still waiting. Then it came so quickly I barely saw it happening. Quatre's hot blue eyes lowering, his pink mouth lowering and opening, his tongue injecting me deliciously. Duo rocked his dick into my crack. I came so fast I lost my heartbeat. Quatre caught it all in his sweet mouth.

I remember him standing afterwards in front of me on the bed. I caressed his thighs, the crinkling hair, and the tender spot behind his knee. I turned my cheek into Duo's shoulder, and nearly cried. Duo's mouth was full of Quatre's pulsing skin, Quatre's fingers trailing tremblingly around the place where Duo's mouth took him in. Quatre came, his knees buckling and his voice shattering. He sounded wounded, and as he fell against me I cradled him, kissing his hair. His sweat is the most beautiful smell.

After what felt like almost an hour, Quatre pulled away. He crawled backwards to the headboard, and resting upon it, he smiled. Duo's softened member was still between my thighs, but as his arms started to move around me I felt an awakening.

I heard Quatre speak and it was "yes."

Duo lowered me to the bed, and I reached between us to touch what had been for so long touching me. He moaned and pressed me deeper into the sheets, one brown arm flexing against my shoulder, and his other hand trailing down my body. It was so good. I had never felt so good. When he touched me again I knew what I wanted. I arched up against him, spreading my legs to take him in. After a few shifts he found me, sank into me and collapsed, his heavy body pressing me down. He began to rock into me, his member rocking inside of me. His intense eyes rose to meet mine and locked.

Quatre's fingers were in our hair, I remember. He was tangling it like he was mixing us. It was magic.

I lost myself in them again; I let myself be given what they wanted to give, aching with all I had and had never been able to let go. When I came it was beautiful white noise. Someone was above me, and someone lifted my head and brushed away my tangled hair from my sweated face. Quatre smoothed his hands along my brow, along my cheeks. Duo kissed me slowly, then leaned upward, making something tender in me jar unmercifully. He kissed Quatre, and I heard my blonde lover sigh.

It was peaceful that night, for the first time. I slept with my cheek against Quatre's chest, his heartbeat lulling me, and Duo's hair blanketing my shoulders. I could hear them breathing. "Your hand looks beautiful, there." Duo placed his hand over mind, where it was resting on Quatre's chest.

"So does yours." I smiled and wished that some things never ended.

They never end.

-----------------------------

If you've made it to the end, you like this kind of stuff! Encourage me! ;)