Play My Game: Game Start
by Blue Soaring
The flickering lights cast shadows on the walls and the dancers as he watched the room move around him. His eyes trailed almost lazily over the throng, unimpressed with what the world had to offer him. Surely, there was something more. The bar was stagnant to him; the flow of life reduced to a sluggish crawl. Sighing, he rose, intent on leaving the people to their mindless existences. But a figure in the faceless mass caught his eye. He halted, hovering slightly above his chair, studying the person. The body he watched so intently moved throughout the crowd, with them, but not; seemingly separate from the people even while surrounded by them. He sank back into his chair for the moment, intrigued.
Here was something more.
I leaned easily on the bar, with my back to it and facing the room. I scanned the crowd milling around inside the Black Sun - idiotic name for a bar - again as I waited for my drink. I watched everyone dance, enjoying the show. Some people just didn't have a clue. No, I'm not a cynical bastard, really. Some people honestly just didn't have a clue how to dance. I've seen men having seizures move with more rhythm. Think that was too harsh? That's funny. Almost as funny as you believing that I care what you think. My eyes settled on a particularly interesting couple. The man moved sinuously to the pounding beat, and the poor woman he was with looked like she was in the middle of her death throes.
The bartender slammed my drink down on the bar, followed quickly by the dull slap of his hand. I pocketed the change when he moved and raised the glass to my lips, letting my gaze move from the dance floor to the bar. Someone was very busy staring at me, and he was making no effort of hiding it. In fact, it looked to me like he was waiting for me to notice. I looked him over quickly, noticing that he wore plain black boots, hard leather pants of the same shade, and a partly unbuttoned collared shirt. Oddly enough, it was sleeveless, showing off the dark, golden skin of his arms. I raised my eyebrow, throwing him a small smirk and mouthing "Yes?"
In answer to my question, he let his eyes drop down and wander over my body, much more leisurely than I had. I was, if I do say so myself, dressed to kill. I had chosen black vinyl pants for tonight, worn low on my hips and tight across my ass and thighs. The material from my knees down was cut straight, not tapered to my legs in the close fitting style worn by some men. I wore a shirt of the same material and color, cut in a narrow, sharp V from the collar to the hem, which rode just above the waistband of the pants, leaving a band of pale skin showing around my waist and up the center of my chest. The contrast between the black clothing and my skin was startling, and I used it to my full advantage. Over this, I wore a long coat, also black, which fell to my heels. And no, I'm not that short. I had it custom made. You should have seen the look on the woman's face when I told her what I wanted. The coat was leather, but was very soft, not stiff. I moved easily in it, and it barely weighed anything because the leather was so thin. Thin enough, but crafted to resist any tearing. The inside was entirely lined with silk. It had cost a small fortune, but it was worth it.
Worth it even more now, as I watched the man's eyes travel slowly upwards. His gaze was so intense I could feel it. A tongue peeked out from his mouth to quickly moisten his lips as his eyes met mine again. I felt my body heat rise in response to his eyes, and a slight quirk at the side of his mouth said he knew it. He spun around on the high stool, planting one foot firmly on the floor and left the other on the footrest of the stool. He crossed his arms over his chest. On anyone else it would look like a defensive gesture, on him it looked like an invitation. I was never one to turn down a good invitation.
Pushing off the bar, I walked over to him. He watched me with those burning eyes of his, and I knew I was hard. Time to see if he knew, and if he was too. I stood between his open legs and leaned forward, putting one hand behind him on the counter top and pressing my knee against his groin. Definitely hard. My braid fell over my shoulder as I leaned in further, ghosting my lips along his jawbone up to his ear.
"You were staring at me," I whispered, pleased when a small tremor ran through him when my breath touched his ear.
"Hai . . . I was," he replied.
The word startled me, and I drew back just enough to see his face more clearly in the fitful lighting. His features were finely chiseled, high cheekbones led to amazing, almost almond shaped eyes. His eyes still burned, and now I could see they were a rich cobalt blue. I let my eyes drop to his lips. They were full, and a little moist from his tongue. His lips parted when I pressed my knee against him a little harder, and I felt more than heard the sharp intake of breath. My mind registered somewhere along the way that his hair was dark, darker than my chestnut brown, and in a style that could be called messy, except it didn't look like an intentional style. It fell over his eyes in small chunks. I briefly toyed with the idea that it was meant to look natural, but he chose that moment to slide his hands into my coat and run them over my ass. Lost as I was in studying him, the feel of his hands on me surprised me, and I let out a quick breath of air.
His lips curved in a seductive smile then, and he brought one hand up to trail his fingers lightly across the bared skin around my waist. When he reached my stomach, he let his hand dip between my legs and kneaded the hardness there. My eyes closed partially and I couldn't help but rock against his hand. I knew my breathing was coming in short pants now. I did, however, resist the urge to spread my legs wider. His other hand ran almost idly over the cleft of my ass. This man knew what he was doing, that was for sure. I had the fleeting thought that coming in my pants might not be a good idea, but that thought flew out of my mind when he let out a soft groan. I noticed then that my rocking motion had caused my leg to rub against his erection, torturing him as much as he was torturing me.
"Are you gonna tell me your name," I asked, my voice heavy, "or can I make one up?" I punctuated my question with another small thrust of my hips.
"Heero," he groaned, taking a deep breath. "My name is Heero," he said again in a voice only slightly more steady, rolling the 'r'.
A Japanese name to go with the Asian looks. His accent sent little thrills down my spine. I instantly wondered what that accented voice would sound like screaming in passion, and begging me to touch him. Moistening my own lips with my tongue, I placed the tip of my finger on his lips. Again his tongue darted out, but this time it was to taste my fingertip. I watched the flash of pink recede back into his mouth. I ran my hands down his arms then, and pulled him to his feet. He stood barely an inch taller than me.
"Come dance with me, Heero," I said, glancing over his body for a moment, just long enough to notice he was slender like me, although I could feel the muscles of his arms shifting under my hands. He wrapped his arm around my waist under my coat, hooking his fingers in the waistband of my pants. He made his way through the crowd, taking me with him.
When we reached the dance floor, I turned around quickly, back on to him, and pressed the full length of my body against his. Heero growled low in his throat. He grabbed my hips as I began to rock against him to the beat of the music. I leaned back into him and moved my head to the side so I could watch his face. His eyes were heavy and clouded. I rested my hands over his for a moment before bringing one hand up to trail over the side of his neck. We fell into a rhythm easily. Not only did Heero know what he was doing, he could dance too. I wonder what else he did well? The thought led me down a very nice path, and I absently licked my lips.
Heero was watching my mouth, and suddenly he spun me around and slammed me against the front of his body, still moving with the music. He reached under my coat again and ground his erection into mine. My eyes widened, then grew heavy again. I was lost in the music, the smell of his skin, and the feeling of his heat pressing against me. I automatically wrapped my arms around his neck when he crushed his mouth to mine. He growled again when I opened my lips and he dipped his tongue inside. I felt his tongue brush over mine, stroking it with his own. I moaned into his mouth and twined my tongue with his, tasting the inside of his mouth as he tasted mine. He nipped at my bottom lip, drawing it into his mouth. My brain was heady with heat and sensation, and our kiss broke. I looked at his eyes before he descended again, this time with frantic, open-mouthed kisses. I felt rather than saw him pull back; my eyes were closed and my lips still parted and moist. I fought to control my breathing.
"And what . . ." he breathed into my ear, "do I call you?"
My first thought was he could call me damn well anything he wanted. Foregoing that, I said, "Duo. Call me Duo."
"Good moooooooornig everybody! It's 5:45, and what a GLORIOUS summer morning we have out there! Traffic across the bridges is slow moving, seems like everyone wants to take it sloooow today. Right now, it's a nice 79 degrees, and we'll have highs today of a scorching 93! And now . . ."
I groaned into my pillow, listening as the announcer rambled on about the weather for the next week. Someone should shoot him, it's unnatural to be that goddamn CHIPPER in the morning . . . .
Last night came back to me in a rush. The club. Heero. I groaned again, remembering the sound of my name on his lips. Better yet, my lips on his. I grinned foolishly.
More pieces of last night filtered back into my foggy brain. He had teased me relentlessly on the dance floor, and I almost regretted asking him to dance. Almost. I should have asked him to fuck me instead. I wasn't quite sure, but I probably DID ask him that last night, somewhere along the line. The bartender had made last call, Heero's hands were on me, pressing me against him, his voice husky in my ear . . . . I sat up in the bed quickly. A small shiver passed over me when I remembered what he said.
~ "Play a game with me, Duo." His voice was low. His lips brushed my ear as he spoke. I know I quivered in his arms, I couldn't help myself. "My game . . . ."
Right at that moment, I would have agreed to anything, and I mean ANYTHING. Without really thinking, I turned my head and kissed him again, running my tongue along his lips. He moaned and opened his mouth, and I plunged my tongue inside. It was my way of agreeing to his request. ~
With a start I realized I had my fingers pressed to my lips and was suffering from a major hard on. I threw back the covers and stood, stretching. "Radio off," I said, and the noise was obediently cut off. I loved modern technology. As I made my way into the bathroom that adjoined my bedroom, I let my thoughts wander. Heero had disappeared at last call, right after I kissed him. Did he know that I had agreed? I sighed, looking into the mirror and unwinding my braid. For some reason, I was sure he did. I ran a brush through my hair, and stepped into the shower, closing the opaque door behind me.
"All jets, 82 degrees," I said, and the water streamed down. I stood there for a while, just letting the water flow over me. Finally, I roused myself and started the arduous task of washing my hair. I suppose that's what I get for being vain. And for having hair that fell well below my ass when it was unbraided. I grinned again, remembering the look on Heero's face when he had wrapped his long fingers around my braid, and starting stroking it in a delightfully suggestive manner. The thought didn't help my situation one bit. I was never going to get anything done if the mere thought of Heero left me like this. And thinking of thoughts of Heero . . . .
The feeling of my hands, covered in soap, running over my body suddenly wasn't as innocent as merely washing. My left hand slid down, over my stomach and wrapped around my erection. A jolt of sheer pleasure coursed through me. I moved my hand slowly up the shaft to the sensitive head, rubbing my thumb over tip, and back down again. My other hand danced across my chest, toying with a nipple. I tightened my grip at the same time as I pinched my nipple, and the two sensations melded together. My mouth dropped open in a low moan. I clenched my eyes shut, moving my hand faster over the ache between my legs. My breath was coming in short pants now, the hot water sending tendrils of steam swirling around me. I felt my stomach tighten. I let my hand drop from my chest to brush over my hidden entrance. I shuddered and slipped one soapy finger just past the ring of muscle there. That sent me over the edge to orgasm. I pumped myself a few more times before wrapping my hand firmly around the base of my cock. I let my orgasm ride me, my mouth open in a silent scream of pleasure.
Minutes later I was still catching my breath, leaning against the shower wall. I shakily righted myself and quickly finished my shower. Stepping out of the stall, I grabbed a towel and made my way back into the bedroom to dress. The rest of the morning found me wondering if I would see Heero again. As for his game . . . I had a pretty good idea which game he had in mind.
Three days later I still hadn't heard from Heero. I was sitting in my office, watching my computer search through millions of files. Curiosity had finally gotten the better of me. I was searching for Heero. I had no idea what I would do if I found him, I hadn't bothered to think that far ahead. Step one was finding him, step two was figuring out what to do once I did.
I snorted in frustration. I was still stuck on step one. The man was impossible to find. I had the fleeting thought that he had given me a false name, but I quickly banished that idea. Best not to start thinking like that until I exhausted all possibilities. The vidscreen to my left beeped at me then, drawing my attention away from my computer.
"Audio/visual," I said absently, still watching the data flow across the computer screen. "Sico Inc., Lachine Towers division," I still hadn't bothered to look at the vid.
"Miss me, Duo?" an accented voice asked.
My head whipped around so fast I'm surprised I didn't crack my neck. The vidscreen was black. No picture. But there was not mistaking the deep resonance of Heero's voice. The game had begun.
"How did you get this number?" I blurted. My private office number was unlisted, all calls were directed through the front desk. And I certainly didn't remember giving it to Heero.
I heard a soft chuckle. The sound sent thrills through me again, even more intense than before. Oh, yes, I had missed him. I wasn't about to tell him that, though.
"You're a very hard man to find, Mr. Maxwell," he said, amusement evident in his voice.
"I try," I replied. If he wanted to banter, fine with me.
"The game has already begun, Duo. But it is still early."
Okay, he didn't want to banter. I thought about his statement for a moment, then realized it was true. I tapped my pen on top of the desk in annoyance. He hadn't had trouble finding me, he was making me wait. Another realization hit me then. The game had begun long before he had even asked me to play.
A chime signaled the completion of my computer's search. I glanced over and felt a triumphant surge. One file was displayed matching the criteria I had entered. I quickly opened the file, and my feeling of success changed to nervous anticipation. I watched, eyes wide with disbelief as the words scrolled across the screen.
Bad form, Duo.
If you play my game, you play by my rules.
The game will go on as long as you dare to play.
Meet me at the Pyro on Fifth, ten tonight.
And remember: my rules.
How far will you go?
I stared at the screen, my mouth open in shock. "Wha . . .?" I said, turning to look at the useless vidscreen. A small icon blinking in the corner told me that Heero had cut the call. I mumbled "end call" under my breath, and the vid went completely blank. Then I flopped back into my chair, looking at the message on my computer again.
The Pyro was a notorious private club on Fifth Street, Downtown. I had only ever seen the blank face of the building. I'd heard even less. Apparently the people who got in didn't bother telling the rest of us about it. Running everything through my head that I knew about the club, I debated what clothes would be appropriate.
I didn't even consider the idea of not going. Refuse the invitation to go to a private club with an amazingly sexy stranger who has the ability to track me down while I find out nothing about him? Fuck no. Heero knew how to play the game much too well.