Patient Fei
by Gynocrat

*exclusively for TSFHWGS.com

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

This is how we met once more. I was a Gundam pilot, recruited by fate, and all alone. You were the same. When it was all over you and I were assigned to the same educational program. The school was nonsense and you, like me, rarely bothered to show up. I was shocked to discover that you, like me, were enrolled in a poetry class. That night, the night we met once more, we had to stand in front of class and read aloud.

I was in a new romance, my first one, and one that would linger with me until this very day. He arrived slightly late but managed to catch my whole reading. It was my first time, as an adult, that I'd read aloud in front of an audience something that I had written. That night, when I finished, the audience clapped. Since they'd failed to do the same with the poets prior to me, my head swelled. I absorbed their sounds of laughter and their response to my words. I felt as if I were on fire.

You read later. You read well, but I remember more strongly meeting you afterward. You still had the same mess of chestnut hair and I found myself staring into your eyes after approaching you to tell you that I admired your writing and liked your story better than the others.

Deadpan, as always, you thanked me and returned the compliment. I wasn't sure if you were sincere or just making conversation with an ex Gundam Pilot. You introduced me immediately to Duo, who I had also known during the war. I did not think about Duo though, it was as if he were a hologram that wasn't really there. All that I remembered of that meeting was in intense attraction, the notion that if I met you as an old man I would not remember those Prussian blue eyes or that aquiline nose--no--I would know you by the intense attraction I felt, your eyes boring into me (so I hoped); I am sure your thoughts were much more innocent.

The second time we met again, it was five years later; I had changed from the cold relatively chaste young man into an experienced man of the world. Men get to parade this fact, for if I was a woman, I'd be considered loose or sluttish. I wear those labeled terms I'd been known by like I wear my uniform. The words himbo, slut, been around the block and sex pig instead of lines and my Preventer rank badge.

When I see you again I do look at those eyes, but quickly scan down at the more physical, the more carnal. I like what I see: a strong, gym built body, and you've managed to gain an ass that was MIA during our war years. You are perfect to me, with your baggy jeans and tight shirt. You are still full of gangly brown hair and you have a fondness for green shirts.

I read your story about the body or sex; I imagined making love with you.

"Are you still seeing Duo?" I ask, more interested in your personal than your professional life. I ask you how things are between the two of you, and realize with some humiliation that I have revealed my desire too early.

"Things are fine. We live together now." You explain that Duo is a schoolteacher.

Later, I am still asking you about your personal life. "Do you have diplomatic immunity?"

I must explain this. If you are gay and in Lagrange and in a relationship with another--you either have no permission to screw around--or you do, only if you are far away from your man. Thus, diplomatic immunity. I wanted to ask if you had an open relationship, but I could not muster the nerve.

"Well, kind of." You reply.

"Kind of? What does that mean? You either got it or you don't?" I laugh when I say this and try to sound as if I am poking fun rather than needling you.

You look thoughtful, smile slightly, and change the subject.

I am fascinated with the lack of hair on your forearms. I chalk this up to our respective heritage since I have none either. We Asians are a smooth breed, the hand or tongue traveling unobstructed over hard surfaces. Clean like the skin of a dolphin. I imagine your skin is like a pillowcase, my head pressed into it, the weight of a lover on my back, a pulsing grinding rhythm.

You never speak. You are so quiet sometimes I feel as if I am disturbing some part of you when I ask you a question or bring something to you attention. Still, you don't need to talk during sex. I feel myself leaving the table as others arrive. I listen half intent to others and watch as you listen also.

I'm happy to discover that you like foreplay as well. Some guys come in about as quick a time as I'm thinking of warming up. I am not a slow starter; I just like the tension to build. Great sex is about restraint: pudding cups filled with thick chocolate mousse, and no one around to tell you not to touch. You could dip your finger in it and smooth over the indention--I would never tell!

My mouth waters as I already think of swallowing you and soiling your clothes with my juices.

Articles of clothing slide off one at a time, and of course we take turns. I remove your boot. Then the other. You remove my shirt, but are interrupted because you cannot believe the size of my nipples, so you check them with your tongue to see if they are really that large and round. You suck on them, and the space behind my temples is drawn into the suction and pulses pleasurably throughout my scalp.

I unbutton your jeans until finally both of us are naked.

You suck cock as well as you kill, Heero Yuy.

I try to show you my talents too, I put my tongue up your ass and you writhe above my mouth. I have a weakness for strength, and you have it. So many muscles in your back, thighs, and shoulders, shifting constantly beneath my hands. I try so hard to know you by heart; you make it difficult and press into me with hands, tongue, breath, and cock.

I have always dreamed about getting good at being fucked.

Zechs revealed "It hurts alot at first, but you get used to it. Its not my favorite position."

This sounded good. "How long did it take you to get used to it?"

"Well, it hurt the first two years, then it was okay."

TWO YEARS!?

Of course, Quatre had no problems at all. "I've been putting things up there as long as I can remember. Candles, carrots, lots of C things. It's never hurt at all."

I have been fucked since then, sometimes painfully, other times pleasurably. I want this. I want you. Your cock is long, not real thick, perfectly proportioned, and slick with my spit. I want you in, in, in. Your cock glows in the darkness of my fantasy. Why? I don't know, the light, heat, my desire for it, no matter. Fuck me Heero. Fuck me with all your might.

You take me through the dance all night long, we lose track of time, the music speeds and slows, sometimes there are voices, sometimes only beats, and then sometimes you press into me gently, only to pound into me like an animal. I can feel you up in my stomach, through my legs, to the top of my cock and all through my body. We ejaculate simultaneously as the exact moment of dawn breaks.

"Did you want another?" the waiter asks.

My fantasy is over and I look over at you and see that you await my answer as much as the server. I decline. My mind has exhausted me. This is goodbye: the last class is over and we both have late shuttles back to Earth. I am struck again by how handsome your eyes are.

We agree to meet later and catch the train to the shuttle bay. Rather than my newfound confidence asking "your place or mine?" instead I search for signals in our conversation, shared glances, body language, something.

When I knock on your room door, you are in the middle of a conversation with Duo and you ask me to wait a moment in the other room.

"What are you doing today?" Duo demanded.

"Dinner with a friend and catch the shuttle." your tone sheepish in response to his jealousy.

"And the friends name is...?"

"Fei. Wu Fei, you remember him."

"And are you going to have sex with Fei today, too?"

I peek my head around the door and look at you. Of course, like you, I know it's not going to happen.

Room service arrives with your lunch and desert. You hang up from Duo and offer me some of your meal. I opt for the desert that you refuse to eat.

"So, are you going to have sex with Fei?" I joke.

"In another circumstance, maybe..." you grin.

"You're not, after years of sexual tension and mixed messages, going to leave me without anything, after I've jerked off all week thinking about you." I spilled my guts.

"So it is sexual!" you laugh.

Of course it's sexual. No more fantasy.

We rush to our shuttles and are forced to wait.

I follow him into a temp room and neither of us says a word when I turn off the lights. My heartbeat quickens, I face you and you lean up against the wall. I pull you to me, an innocent brotherly embrace as if to say goodbye. Our torso's touch and press against each other. It is such a sexual embrace.

I press my lips to your. Our tongues begin to dance. You taste as sweet at the French toast you ate for breakfast. I yank up your uniform shirt and lean down, my lips, mouth, and teeth sinking into your perfect chest. Your left nipple is small and round, the tip hard and delicious.

"Fei." You, slightly breathless. "Wu Fei."

I put both my hands on your biceps and press myself back.

"I'm sorry Yuy." I say.

The tenderness in your eyes is exquisite.

But I'm not.

I'd love to make love to you someday Heero Yuy. Until then I will just continue to write my desire for you on the page, eat my words until I come. Keep my longing for you on the page, where it belongs...

I learned patience at an early age.