2-10-2002

Hiya! ^_^'
Umm, just felt like writing a little something while I wait for digital to come hit me upside the head…

Warnings and Disclaimers: I don't own Gundam Wing, but then, this fic doesn't even mention them so…it does use a song I don't own though, which is by The Sneaker Pimps

This Fic Contains: lemony stuff sort of, darkness, a club, and all that goes with it…think of it as whoever you want, though personally I pictured my favorite pairing of Duo and Heero ^_^'

 

 

Spin Spin Sugar

By Cs

 

 

It always starts out this way, flashing lights and pounding beats. Bodies thrashing and spinning, molding together and flying. The music pulses through, the lights blind, and all you can do is move to it, join it. He thinks this is all a game, something to be played when he's bored. And like the club, it's always the same.

Even now his hips swivel, sway, and grind. It could be dead silent, but the music in his head would still be playing loud enough to move him. His hands throw themselves into the air, make designs in the strobes, trails in the blacklight. And people watch him move to it, absorbed, and sucked in, mesmerized by the fluidity with which he dances. Entranced by his closed eyes, open mouth, sweating body. He's a draw. The honey to which all flies will go.

I'm everyone - I feel used,

He can't help it, he can't stop, and he wouldn't if he could. His mouth opens a little wider, tongue flicking across his lower lip. Is it an invitation? Half the club will think so, their faces falling when he turns them down, Ignores them in favor of himself, in favor of his own body.

Another sway of those slim hips, another twist and still he moves, hands now like birds that have lost their wings. His hair slaps his cheeks as he shakes his head to the beat, sweet drops of sweat flying; arcing through the air in sparks. He's beautiful all right, but he knows it.

And that's when I come in, that's when I laugh too loudly at a joke I can barely hear, when I rip my eyes from him. When I down my drink and feel dizzy for a moment, anticipation stroking my gut with heavy fingers.

I have to try, don't I? Give it a whirl; split myself apart from myself. And just go for it. What is a lost chance after all, but a chance not taken?

I'm everyone - I need you,

Damn, I'm drawn; I'm a fly too. It bothers me for a second, for a moment, to realize I'm just the same as everyone else. But I can't resist; I can't back away and leave him alone.

Does he know what he does? Does he realize what we feel? The masses that watch him, crave him, want him. Maybe he's blind to it, too caught up in the music, too caught in the oblivion that comes with the club.

I can feel the heat fire itself up inside my groin again as he sways, my heart and my cock all becoming the same thing in one shot. They're both beating with the same rhythm, the one he's dancing to, the pulsing, heavy music.

My feet are moving towards him, my legs pulling me onto the dance floor. Unconsciously I'm already moving to the beat, swaying in sync, face taking on that reverent statement.

I'm everyone - hang your label on me,

Should it surprise me when he accepts my hand on his hip? Should it shock me when he turns and I see his eyes? Should it make me harder when he moves closer? Because it does, all of it.

He is honey, sticky and sweet, the dance having slicked him up, and the heat making his body slippery beneath his clothes. This is sex, who needs penetration.

Our bodies slide, semi-hard to erect in seconds, hip to hip. He's impossibly hot, an inferno of life. My hands slip over the flesh of his back, my mouth leaning closer with no direct voice from my brain. It's all right though, my brain left twenty minutes ago. All that's left now is my body, and his.

I'm everyone - Paint it black and white and easy,

His lips move, whispering words in my ear. And though I can't hear them, I can feel them. I know what they're saying, instant telepathic ability released. My eyes lift, eyelids opening, head nodding in understanding. Yeah, I'll do anything he wants.

In moments my feet are walking again, hand held fast, cock held faster, though nothing holds that piece of me but the vision of him.

I'm everyone - Sticks in me,

We're moving, I know we are, I can see the lights change as we pass through them, I can hear the music move from space to space as we skirt the speakers. In my hand is his, slim fingers delicate and moist, sweating palm, aphrodisiac, ambrosia.

Step, step, move aside, and move closer and suddenly we're touching with more then hands. Backed into a dark corner, people writhing around us in moving musical beats like wind up toys. It's amazing when you look, glance across the crowds, and find they all dance together in harmony. So much confusion and yet they can still move as one when it's this good.

Even when we lean together from thigh to shoulder, legs entwined, we too are moving with the beat, moving at the same pace and mood as the rest of the masses. A giant monster of humanity, all with the same blaring heart resting behind it.

I'm everyone - Sticks with me,

Lights hit my hand as it trails down his cheek, sliding over slicked skin, salt and hot human heat coating my fingertips. Kisses aren't allowed yet, but I knew that. He is after all not one for these things, you can tell by the way he moves when he dances. He avoids contact out there; he avoids eyes, hands, and straying bodies. I barely think about what I don't know while I touch him. I'm thinking instead about what I've seen, that part of him that's there when he moves within the music.

I want perfection - I'm real need,

Other parts of us are making acquaintances. Fuck minds, who needs thought when your body can become like an animal's again? Grunts, smells, touch, and sensation. Heat, beats, and one cock to another. Let's talk.

My mouth travels his skin, picking up a catalogue of melted body heat tasting of fine skill.

I've seen attention - See through me,

Leaning back I catch his eyes again, watching me, knowing I've got the flavor of him all over me now, marked territory. He lets my lips brush his, my tongue finding its way inside, more sensation, now it's not unlike tasting the club itself, stale and hot, sweet with a smoke machine, sharp with vodka. Those hands of his grip my chest, slide and grip my hips, and then we're grinding together against the wall, more frantic with each beat of our bodies.

Call on me - Spin spin sugar

His body is one vast playing field, organic and manmade. The Astroturf of his pants, the fake fur of his shoes, and then the delicious fruity falseness of his chest, one hundred percent pure bubble gum. It doesn't matter that it's really just tight vinyl and a tiny half shirt. It's what I want it to be.

The beat of the music changes, a new song to listen to as the masses shake. Again, the pulse of the crowds around us change, shifting into something harder and more ferocious. It matches our striving flesh perfectly.

Crawl on me - Spin spin sugar

This is what it's like, finding someone amidst the grind of the club, meeting, greeting and then meating, and grating. Our hips brush, mold, and I can feel that we're both hard and turned on, like the lights, flashing and mixing. Podiums of naked skin are out in the crowd, bodies are coming together out there, and we're coming together in our little corner of night.

Stinks on me - Spin spin sugar

My hands go on the move again, slipping around the molded curves of his ass; I give a squeeze tasting his response. That was the right move, are there any wrong ones? Probably not, he accepts everything I'm willing to do, and I'll do anything he wants.

A shift to the right and we're hiding now, the music moving a bit further away, a small shell of privacy. My fingers coast over the waistband of his pants, sliding beneath and stroking smooth skin. Peeling the material downward, taking any effort at modesty far away.

Twists for me - Spin spin sugar

He stills for a moment, pants against me, whispers unheard words into my mouth. If it's stop, it's not going to happen. If it's fuck me into the wall, he'd better brace himself.

A little maneuvering and I've got what needs to be out, naked and ready, his pants wrapping his thighs, my hands spreading him open. He arches under me, his neck bare for a bite, my hands slide up again, grip his own against the wall.

I've seen attention - See through me,

Front to back, a dance best done naked and alone, but something I'm more than willing to do surrounded by thousands. The softness of his skin is a sharp contrasting line when compared to the slick material of his pants. I can just make out the harsh moans emanating from his lips, the little cries he utters. It's like another part of the music.

Is it a wonder then, when that's what drives my hips forward, what moves them back again. When it becomes what guides us, the rhythm of the club beating me into him.

I want perfection - I'm real need,

Slick flesh, coats of perspiration and sweat, skins of masks of, god I'm lost.

I'm everyone - Sticks in me,

The beat is reaching its swell of orgasmic movement. That pinnacle it always reaches for, that one great move that you perform before it ends.

I'm everyone - Sticks with me,

I already want more and I'm not even done yet. I can taste him for days afterwards and I haven't left yet. When I said he was honey, I should've mentioned the kind that kills those flies, because they'll forever want the same sweetness. To taste it again, even if they stick to it, waste away, and die.

Call on me - Spin spin sugar,

Even as I reach for the heights with the swell of the music, I'm buried so deep inside him I can tell it will be years before I forget. My lips drop to his neck again, gathering up his taste on my buds. One final goodbye, a remembrance for my tongue.

Crawl on me - Spin spin sugar,

A shimmy, a shake, a twisted mutilated cry against the wall. It feels so incredibly good I wish I could go back in time and do it again, over and over. His face turns to the side, a beam lighting his eyes for a moment, catching us unaware. His tongue flicks, catching a drop of moisture on his lips.

Stinks on me - Spin spin sugar,

And this is how it always starts, flashing lights and pounding beats. Bodies thrashing and spinning, molding together and flying. The music pulses through, the lights blind, and all you can do is move to it, join it.

Twists for me - Spin spin sugar,

It's a good thing I'm his ride home.

 

 

well, hopefully that wasn't too horrible...

<sipping coffee on a sunday afternoon>

Cs