Early One Morning
Duo entered the kitchen, making his way sleepily to the coffee maker. He pulled a mug from the cupboard, poured coffee and nodded to the blond sitting at the table seemingly without conscious thought. "Morning, Quat. We the only ones up?" he murmured, fingers slipping underneath the hem of his tank to scratch his midriff lazily.
The young blond assented, both hands holding his mug and eyes peering over its rim watching the long-haired man move about. Duo was barefoot, he noted absently, giving him another raking glance. Hair pulled back in a hasty braid, still wild from sleep. Quatre licked his lips to wet their sudden dryness. He could tell his friend wore nothing under the grey sleep pants, and he shifted on his seat to accommodate the growing tightness in his own.
"I should have breakfast ready soon," Duo was saying with the refrigerator door open and he bent over pulling items out. He paused and looked over his shoulder. "What sounds good to you?"
Quatre blinked several times, and bit back the reply he wanted to give. "Oh, anything is fine," he finally answered, waving a hand. Duo's eyes narrowed and he nodded slowly.
"You know, Quat," he commented, head back in the frig again, ass bobbing and swaying with his movements. "I could really use a hand." He turned as he straightened, holding a couple of oranges and a carton of eggs. "Would you rather peel the fruit, or whip the eggs?" A slow smile curved his lips.
Quatre's tongue skated out again, moisture severely lacking even then. "Eggs," he mumbled. He stood and hoped his thoughts didn't show too physically. At the counter, he fumbled with the bowl and nearly dropped the whisk Duo handed him; his eyes kept sliding over to watch his friend as the man deftly peeled and sectioned the two oranges. Holding the bowl in the crook of his arm, his other whipping the dozen or so eggs into a froth, he tried to keep his mind on the task when what he really wanted was standing oblivious next to him.
"Here, have a bite," Duo offered, his fingers holding out a small section of fruit.
No longer working on the eggs, Quatre locked gazes with his friend. Duo's eyes were bright, his mouth lifted at one corner. Quatre leaned forward, and opened his mouth to accept the orange. Instead of dropping the piece, Duo's fingers lingered and Quatre's mouth closed over them, sucking the sticky juices from the skin, his tongue rasping over the pads and outlining the nails.
Duo's breath caught and held. He slowly withdrew his fingers, and brought them to his own mouth. Quatre watched as his tongue licked at his fingertips, and with his eyes never leaving the long-haired man's, he set the bowl down on the counter with a thump. "Duo," he breathed, reaching out and then dropping his hands.
Another slice, but this time Duo brought it to his own lips, parting them only enough to slip the pulpy fruit between. Quatre saw his tongue glide along the underside of the orange. As he bit down on it, the juice ran over his lip and down his chin. His lips closed over the end, sucking slightly before removing it with a slight pop. He chewed slowly, his mouth working the citrus with deliberate sultriness. If Quatre had looked higher, he would have seen Duo watching him with a predatory gleam.
"I'd like another taste," Quatre said in a low tone, his hands going to grasp the other's shoulders. He opened his mouth, and closed his lips over the fruit still held in Duo's fingers, giving them a quick lick. He pulled the man to him, pressing their lips together, the fruit crushed against teeth and tongues.
Fingers hooked into the waistband at Quatre's hips and tugged. Quatre felt the confirmation through the thin material that Duo wore nothing more than sleep pants. The kiss broke and he nudged the man's chin up, trading succulent lips for the soft flesh of his throat. Quatre's mouth followed the same path the juice had made, his tongue lapping at the already drying liquid. Duo's groan spurred him on, and he pushed gently on his shoulders, back to the cabinets and pressed his body flush against his would-be lover's.
Quatre slid his hands over the muscled back, along the sides and down around to Duo's ass. He palmed each cheek, his finger caressed and teased. Duo groaned again, his hands released their grip on the pants and slid up the inside of Quatre's shirt. Letting go of his suction hold on the man's neck, Quatre pulled back, and, giving his friend a quick kiss, asked, "Duo, is this what you want?"
Eyes dark, Duo enunciated each word in a growl, "I want you to fuck me. I want to feel you inside me. I want to make you come. I want you to make me come."
With a short laugh, his pulse beating madly, Quatre's fingers grabbed the elastic of Duo's sweats and pulled, letting them drop to the floor. "It's a good thing we want the same things then," he murmured against willing lips.
"Lounge pants, huh?" Trowa commented softly, watching the long-haired man pull out another item from the frig.
"Forgive me, but yes," Quatre nearly moaned, watching the same man hunt through the spice cupboard. "It's the way they drape on him, see. You can tell he's not wearing anything underneath." He sighed as Duo bent over, ass in the air, digging into a lower shelf and crowing triumphantly when the object of his search was found. Stirring himself, Quatre looked at his lover, smiling softly. "What about you?" he asked, trailing a finger down the man's arm.
Trowa flashed him a look and then back to the man under scrutiny. "You remember those shorts he wore two summers ago up at that cabin we rented?" Quatre's eyes gleamed and he nodded. "Yeah, those. I can't look at the vacation videos without getting hard."
"Sub leathers," Wufei stated almost too loudly, dropping into a chair next to them.
"What?" Quatre choked, looking shocked.
Duo glanced up from the mixing bowl towards their table. "Anything wrong?" he asked, a cup of flour in one hand.
"No." A hasty chorus assured him. The three men exchanged looks and grinned when he turned back to his biscuit making.
"Sub leathers?" Trowa asked, darting a glance to the breakfast cook. "Full-dress, or harness?"
"Harness," Wufei supplied readily. "An ass like that deserves to be shown off."
"In that case, make it chaps," a feminine voice joined the group. The three looked up in surprise to find Dorothy behind them still dressed in silk pajamas, coming in from the living room. At their collective unspoken question, she supplied, "Long, leather chaps, backstrap low on the hips with a strap circling under each cheek. Showcases his ass as well as his goodies." Her eyes narrowed as she leered unabashed at their host. "I'll shave my eyebrows if his package isn't as nice as his ass."
"You've seen his ass?" Wufei demanded loudly causing Duo to glance back at them again.
Her hand went to his hair; she threaded her fingers through its loose black strands and pressed her lips to his temple. "Not on purpose. I â€" sort of surprised him a couple of nights ago while he was changing." Wufei made a noise expressing his doubt, but held his tongue.
Quatre had turned back to watch as Duo rolled the dough out on the counter, hands covered in flour. His mind had the man stripped and outfitted in western style chaps, complete with hat and bandana around his neck. He licked his lips. "So then what would you do?" he asked in a whisper, wanting to hear more of her story.
Leaning closer, Trowa asked softly, "Like the leather?" Without turning, Quatre nodded.
"Ride him like the mount he is." She said it with such authority, the three men looked at her in shock. "What? He's obvious breeding material, and what I wouldn't give to mount him." Her fingers drew tight and Wufei reached up to pull them from his hair.
"But how would you..." Quatre trailed off, looking between the woman and the man her lust-filled gaze was locked on.
"Double strap-on," she answered the half-formed question. "Quite effective."
Wufei was nodding, drawing surprised stares of his own. A slight flush to his cheeks, he held his part-time lover's hand. He took a drink from his mug, hiding behind the cup. "She's very good at what she does," he murmured.
"You're all wrong," Heero said quietly. The four jumped in nervous apprehension. None had heard him approach. "Jock strap." He nodded with a sure knowledge none present could disagreed with. He brushed past Dorothy and went to stand behind his lover, arms going about his waist.
The four at the table watched as Duo turned in the man's arms to bring his own up, circling Heero's neck and keeping his flour-covered hands away from hair. The two shared a kiss and though they didn't see it, the four watchers realized Heero must have said something. Duo let out a startled exclamation and peered over his lover's shoulder at them. His glare had them all looking elsewhere, hiding their faces with a just-caught red-handed blush. Only Dorothy was bold enough to stare him down, one brow raised in contemplation.
Pulling back, Duo caught Heero's eye. "Chaps? You know, they wouldn't be so bad... no spurs though."
Heero grunted. "You're thinking of Dorothy?" his voice hinted with wry amusement.
Duo risked another look over his shoulder. "Nah, she probably uses a riding crop." Heero chuckled, gliding his hands lower over familiar territory. "'Course, if you wanted to play cowboys..." Duo left the suggestion hanging, making floured handprints on the back of Heero's shirt.
Holding his mouth close to Duo's, Heero answered, "After these perverts go back to their own homes to fantasize."
"I miss those black shorts he always wore," Relena whispered half asleep, one arm dropping to rest over Wufei's shoulder while leaning against Dorothy.
In unison, four other heads nodded, all eyes watching the couple make-out over their delayed breakfast.